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Title: The complete works of John Gower, volume 2
The English works

Author: John Gower

Editor: G. C. Macaulay

Release date: July 10, 2023 [eBook #71162]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
COMPLETE WORKS OF JOHN GOWER, VOLUME 2 ***

Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious typographical errors in punctuation have been silently corrected.
In particular, these typos were corrected:

Page cxxxii - corrected respcet to respect
Page 477 - corrected “feminine from” to “feminine form” in note 2677.
Page 481 - corrected “too” to “two” in note 390.
Footnote 1275 - Added “margin” to linenote for line 2052

The Corrigenda et Addenda have been corrected in place.
All other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

THE COMPLETE WORKS
OF
JOHN GOWER
G. C. MACAULAY
**
THE ENGLISH WORKS

HENRY FROWDE, M.A.
PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD

LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK

MS. Fairfax 3, f. 125 vo. (upper portion)

THE COMPLETE WORKS
OF

JOHN GOWER
EDITED FROM THE MANUSCRIPTS
WITH INTRODUCTIONS, NOTES, AND GLOSSARIES

BY

G. C. MACAULAY, M.A.
FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE

**
THE ENGLISH WORKS
(Confessio Amantis, Prol.—Lib. V. 1970)

‘O gentile Engleterre, a toi j’escrits.’

Oxford
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1901

Oxford
PRINTED AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
BY HORACE HART, M.A.
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

PREFATORY NOTE
The circumstances under which this edition was undertaken have
already been stated in the Preface to the volume containing the French
Works, where mention is also made of the editor’s obligations to many
librarians and private owners of manuscripts.
At present it need only be said that the editor has become more and
more convinced, as his work went on, of the value and authentic character
of the text given by the Fairfax MS. of the Confessio Amantis, which as
proceeding directly from the author, though not written by his hand, may
claim the highest rank as an authority for his language.
It is hoped that the list of errata, the result chiefly of a revision made
during the formation of the Glossary, may be taken to indicate not so much
the carelessness of the editor, as his desire to be absolutely accurate in the
reproduction of this interesting text.
The analysis of the Confessio Amantis which is printed in the
Introduction, was undertaken chiefly at the suggestion of Dr. Furnivall.
With reference to this it may be observed that in places where the author is
following well-known sources, the summaries are intentionally briefer, and
in the case of some of the Biblical stories a reference to the original has
been thought sufficient.
Oxford, 1901.

CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction vii
Confessio Amantis:—
Prologus 1
Liber I 35
Liber II 130
Liber III 226
Liber IV 301
Liber V 402
Notes 457

INTRODUCTION
The Confessio Amantis has been the subject both of exaggerated praise
and of undue depreciation. It was the fashion of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries to set Gower side by side with Chaucer, and to represent them as
the twin stars of the new English poetry, a view which, however it may be
justified by consideration of their language and literary tendencies, seems to
imply a very uncritical estimate of their comparative importance. Some of
these references are collected below, and they serve to indicate in a general
way that the author had a great literary reputation and that his book was
very popular, the latter being a conclusion which is sufficiently vouched for
also by the large number of manuscripts which existed, and by the three
printed editions. We shall confine ourselves here to drawing attention to a
few facts of special significance.
In the first place the Confessio Amantis is the earliest English book
which made its way beyond the limits of its own language. There exists a
Spanish translation, dating apparently from the very beginning of the
fifteenth century, in which reference is made also to a Portuguese version,
not known to be now in existence, on which perhaps the Castilian was
based. This double translation into contemporary languages of the
Continent must denote that the writer’s fame was not merely insular in his
life-time.
Secondly, with regard to the position of this book in the sixteenth
century, the expressions used by Berthelette seem to me to imply something
more than a mere formal tribute. This printer, who is especially
distinguished by his interest in language, in the preface to his edition of the
Confessio Amantis most warmly sets forth his author as a model of pure
English, contrasting his native simplicity with the extravagant affectations
of style and language which were then in fashion. In fact, when we compare
the style of Gower in writing of love with that which we find in some of the
books which were at that time issuing from the press, we cannot help
feeling that the recommendation was justified.

Again, nearly a century later a somewhat striking testimony to the
position of Gower as a standard author is afforded by Ben Jonson’s English
Grammar. The syntax contains about a hundred and thirty illustrative
quotations, and of these about thirty are from Gower. Chaucer is cited
twenty-five times, Lydgate and Sir Thomas More each about fourteen, the
other chief authorities being Norton, Jewel, Fox, Sir John Cheke and the
English Bible.
Finally, our author’s popularity and established position as a story-teller
is decisively vouched for by the partly Shakesperian play of Pericles. Plots
of plays were usually borrowed without acknowledgement; but here, a plot
being taken from the Confessio Amantis, the opportunity is seized of
bringing Gower himself on the stage to act as Prologue to four out of the
five acts, speaking in the measure of his own octosyllabic couplet,

‘To sing a song that old was sung
From ashes ancient Gower is come,’ &c.

The book was so well known and the author so well established in
reputation, that a play evidently gained credit by connecting itself with his
name.
The following are the principal references to Gower in the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries. The author of The King’s Quair dedicates his poem to the memory (or
rather to the poems) of his masters Gower and Chaucer. Hoccleve calls him ‘my
maister Gower,’

‘Whos vertu I am insufficient
For to descrive.’

John Walton of Osney, the metrical translator of Boethius, writes,

‘To Chaucer, that is flour of rhethorique
In english tonge and excellent poete,
This wot I wel, no thing may I do like,
Though so that I of makinge entermete;
And Gower, that so craftely doth trete
As in his book<es> of moralite,
Though I to hem in makinge am unmete,
Yit moste I schewe it forth that is in me.’

Bokenham in his Lives of the Saints repeatedly speaks of Gower, Chaucer and
Lydgate, the last of whom was then still living, as the three great lights of English
literature. Caxton printed the Confessio Amantis in 1483, and it seems to have been
one of the most popular productions of his press.
In the sixteenth century Gower appears by the side of Chaucer in Dunbar’s
Lament for the Makaris and in Lindsay’s poems. Hawes in the Pastime of Pleasure
classes him with Chaucer and his beloved Lydgate, and Skelton introduces him as first
in order of time among the English poets who are mentioned in the Garland of Laurel,

‘I saw Gower that first garnysshed our Englysshe rude,
And maister Chaucer,’ &c.,

a testimony which is not quite consistent with that in the Lament for Philip Sparow,

‘Gower’s Englysh is old
And of no value is told,
His mater is worth gold
And worthy to be enrold.’

Barclay in the Preface of his Mirour of Good Manners (printed 1516) states that
he has been desired by his ‘Master,’ Sir Giles Alington, to abridge and amend the
Confessio Amantis, but has declined the task, chiefly on moral grounds. The work he
says would not be suitable to his age and order (he was a priest and monk of Ely),

‘And though many passages therin be commendable,
Some processes appeare replete with wantonnes:
. . . . . . . .
For age it is a folly and jeopardie doubtlesse,
And able for to rayse bad name contagious,
To write, reade or commen of thing venerious.’

Leland had some glimmering perception of the difference between Chaucer and
Gower in literary merit; but Bale suggests that our author was ‘alter Dantes ac
Petrarcha’ (no less), adding the remark, taken perhaps from Berthelette’s preface, ‘sui
temporis lucerna habebatur ad docte scribendum in lingua vulgariA.’ In Bullein’s
Dialogue against the Fever Pestilence (1564) Gower is represented as sitting next to
the Classical poets, Homer, Hesiod, Ennius and Lucan. Puttenham in the Art of
English Poesie (1589), and Sidney in the Defence of Poesie (1595), equally class
Gower and Chaucer together. The latter, illustrating his thesis that the first writers of
each country were the poets, says, ‘So among the Romans were Livius Andronicus
and Ennius, so in the Italian language ... the poets Dante, Boccace and Petrarch, so in
our English, Gower and Chaucer, after whom, encouraged and delighted with their
excellent foregoing, others have followed to beautify our mother tongue, as well in
the same kind as in other arts.’
In Robert Greene’s Vision, printed about 1592, Chaucer and Gower appear as the
accepted representatives of the pleasant and the sententious styles in story-telling, and
compete with one another in tales upon a given subject, the cure of jealousy. The

introduction of Gower into the play of Pericles, Prince of Tyre has already been
referred to.

The uncritical exaggeration of Gower’s literary merits, which formerly
prevailed, has been of some disadvantage to him in modern times. The
comparison with Chaucer, which was so repeatedly suggested, could not but
be unfavourable to him; and modern critics, instead of endeavouring to
appreciate fairly such merits as he has, have often felt called upon to offer
him up as a sacrifice to the honour of Chaucer, who assuredly needs no such
addition to his glory. The true critical procedure is rather the opposite of
this. Gower’s early popularity and reputation are facts to be reckoned with,
in addition to the literary merit which we in our generation may find in his
work, and neither students of Middle English, nor those who aim at tracing
the influences under which the English language and literature developed
during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, can afford to leave Gower’s
English work out of their account.

THE ENGLISH WORKS.
i. Literary Characteristics.—The reason of the success of the
Confessio Amantis was naturally the fact that it supplied a popular need.
After endeavouring to ‘give an account of his stewardship’ in various ways
as a moralist, the author at length found his true vocation, and this time
happily in his native tongue, as a teller of stories. The rest is all machinery,
sometimes poetical and interesting, sometimes tiresome and clumsy, but the
stories are the main thing. The perception of the popular taste may have
come to him partly through the success of Chaucer in the Legend of Good
Women, and the simple but excellent narrative style which he thereupon
developed must have been a new revelation of his powers to himself as well
as to others. It is true that he does not altogether drop the character of the
moralist, but he has definitely and publicly resigned the task of setting
society generally to rights,

‘It stant noght in my sufficance
So grete thinges to compasse,
. . . . . .
Forthi the Stile of my writinges
Fro this day forth I thenke change

And speke of thing is noght so strange,’ &c. (i. 4 ff.)

He covers his retreat indeed by dwelling upon the all-pervading influence of
Love in the world and the fact that all the evils of society may be said to
spring from the want of it; but this is little more than a pretext. Love is the
theme partly because it supplies a convenient framework for the design, and
partly perhaps out of deference to a royal command. There is no reason to
doubt the statement in the first version of the Prologue about the meeting of
the author with Richard II on the river, and that he then received
suggestions for a book, which the king promised to accept and read. It may
easily be supposed that Richard himself suggested love as the subject, being
a matter in which, as we know from Froissart, he was apt to take delight.
‘Adont me demanda le roy de quoy il traittoit. Je luy dis, “D’amours.” De
ceste response fut-il tous resjouys, et regarda dedens le livre en plusieurs
lieux et y lisyB.’ It was certainly to the credit of the young king that he
should have discerned literary merit in the work of the grave monitor who
had so lectured him upon his duties in the Vox Clamantis, and should have
had some part in encouraging him to set his hand to a more promising task;
and if it be the fact that he suggested love as the subject, we cannot but
admire both the sense of humour displayed by the prince and the address
with which our author acquitted himself of the task proposed.
The idea of the Confession was no doubt taken from the Roman de la
Rose, where the priest of Nature, whose name is Genius, hears her
confession; but it must be allowed that Gower has made much better use of
it. Nature occupies herself in expounding the system of the universe
generally, and in confessing at great length not her own faults but those of
Man, whom she repents of having made. Her tone is not at all that of a
penitent, though she may be on her knees, and Genius does little or nothing
for her in reply except to agree rather elaborately with her view that, if
proper precautions had been taken, Mars and Venus might easily have
outwitted Vulcan. Gower on the other hand has made the Confession into a
framework which will conveniently hold any number of stories upon every
possible subject, and at the same time he has preserved for the most part the
due propriety of character and situation in the two actors. By giving the
scheme an apparent limitation to the subject of love he has not in fact
necessarily limited the range of narrative, for there is no impropriety in

illustrating by a tale the general nature of a vice or virtue before making the
special application to cases which concern lovers, and this special
application, made with all due solemnity, has often a character of piquancy
in which the moral tale pure and simple would be wanting. Add to this that
the form adopted tends itself to a kind of quasi-religious treatment of the
subject, which was fully in accordance with the taste of the day, and
produces much of that impression of quaintness and charm with which we
most of us associate our first acquaintance with the Confessio Amantis.
The success of the work—for a success it is in spite of its faults—is due
to several merits. The first of these is the author’s unquestionable talent for
story-telling. He has little of the dramatic power or the humour which
distinguish Chaucer, but he tells his tales in a well-ordered and interesting
manner, does not break the thread by digressions, never tires of the story
before it is finished, as Chaucer does so obviously and so often, and carries
his reader through with him successfully to the end in almost every case.
His narrative is a clear, if shallow, stream, rippling pleasantly over the
stones and unbroken either by dams or cataracts. The materials of course
are not original, but Gower is by no means a slavish follower in detail of his
authorities; the proportions and arrangement of the stories are usually his
own and often show good judgement. Moreover he not seldom gives a fresh
turn to a well-known story, as in the instances of Jephthah and Saul, or
makes a pretty addition to it, as is the case in some of the tales from Ovid.
Almost the only story in which the interest really flags is the longest, the
tale of Apollonius of Tyre, which fills up so much of the eighth book and
was taken as the basis of the plot of Pericles; and this was in its original
form so loose and rambling a series of incidents, that hardly any skill could
have completely redeemed it. There is no doubt that this gift of clear and
interesting narrative was the merit which most appealed to the popular taste,
the wholesome appetite for stories being at that time not too well catered
for, and that the plainness of the style was an advantage rather than a
drawback.
Tastes will differ of course as to the merits of the particular stories, but
some may be selected as incontestably good. The tale of Mundus and
Paulina in the first book is excellently told, and so is that of Alboin and
Rosemund. The best of the second book are perhaps the False Bachelor and
the legend of Constantine and Silvester, in the latter of which the author has

greatly improved upon his materials. In the third book the tale of Canace is
most pathetically rendered, far better than in Ovid, so that in spite of
Chaucer’s denunciation his devoted follower Lydgate could not resist the
temptation of borrowing it. The fourth book, which altogether is of special
excellence, gives us Rosiphelee, Phyllis, and the very poetically told tale of
Ceix and Alceone. The fifth has Jason and Medea, a most admirable
example of sustained narrative, simple and yet effective and poetical,
perhaps on the whole Gower’s best performance: also the oriental tale of
Adrian and Bardus, and the well told story of Tereus and Philomela. In the
seventh we shall find the Biblical story of Gideon excellently rendered, the
Rape of Lucrece, and the tale of Virginia. These may be taken as specimens
of Gower’s narrative power at its best, and by the degree of effectiveness
which he attains in them and the manner in which he has used his materials,
he may fairly be judged as a story-teller.
As regards style and poetical qualities we find much that is good in the
narratives. Force and picturesqueness certainly cannot be denied to the tale
of Medea, with its description of the summer sea glistening in the sun,
which blazes down upon the returning hero, and from the golden fleece by
his side flashes a signal of success to Medea in her watch-tower, as she
prays for her chosen knight. Still less can we refuse to recognize the
poetical power of the later phases of the same story, first the midnight
rovings of Medea in search of enchantments,

‘The world was stille on every side;
With open hed and fot al bare,
Hir her tosprad sche gan to fare,
Upon hir clothes gert sche was,
Al specheles and on the gras
Sche glod forth as an Addre doth:
Non otherwise sche ne goth,
Til sche cam to the freisshe flod,
And there a while sche withstod.
Thries sche torned hire aboute,
And thries ek sche gan doun loute
And in the flod sche wette hir her,
And thries on the water ther

Sche gaspeth with a drecchinge onde,
And tho sche tok hir speche on honde.’ (v. 3962 ff.),

and again later, when the charms are set in action, 4059 ff., a passage of
extraordinary picturesqueness, but too long to be quoted here. We do not
forget the debt to Ovid, but these descriptions are far more detailed and
forcible than the original.
For a picture of a different kind, also based upon Ovid, we may take the
description of the tears of Lucrece for her husband, and the reviving beauty
in her face when he appears,

‘With that the water in hire yhe
Aros, that sche ne myhte it stoppe,
And as men sen the dew bedroppe
The leves and the floures eke,
Riht so upon hire whyte cheke
The wofull salte teres felle.
Whan Collatin hath herd hire telle
The menynge of hire trewe herte,
Anon with that to hire he sterte,
And seide, “Lo, mi goode diere,
Nou is he come to you hiere,
That ye most loven, as ye sein.”
And sche with goodly chiere ayein
Beclipte him in hire armes smale,
And the colour, which erst was pale,
To Beaute thanne was restored,
So that it myhte noght be mored’ (vii. 4830 ff.),

a passage in which Gower, with his natural taste for simplicity, has again
improved upon his classical authority, and may safely challenge comparison
with Chaucer, who has followed Ovid more literally.
It is worth mention that Gower’s descriptions of storms at sea are
especially vivid and true, so that we are led to suppose that he had had more
than a mere literary acquaintance with such things. Such for instance is the

account of the shipwreck of the Greek fleet, iii. 981 ff., and of the tempests
of which Apollonius is more than once the victim, as viii. 604 ff., and in
general nautical terms and metaphors, of some of which the meaning is not
quite clear, seem to come readily from his pen.
Next to the simple directness of narrative style which distinguishes the
stories themselves, we must acknowledge a certain attractiveness in the
setting of them. The Lover decidedly engages our interest: we can
understand his sorrows and his joys, his depression when his mistress will
not listen to the verses which he has written for her, and his delight when he
hears men speak her praises. We can excuse his frankly confessed envy,
malice and hatred in all matters which concern his rivals in her love. His
feelings are described in a very natural manner, the hesitation and
forgetfulness in her presence, and the self-reproach afterwards, the
eagerness to do her small services, to accompany her to mass, to lift her into
her saddle, to ride by her carriage, the delight of being present in her
chamber, of singing to her or reading her the tale of Troilus, or if no better
may be, of watching her long and slender fingers at work on her weaving or
embroidery. Sometimes she will not stay with him, and then he plays with
the dog or with the birds in the cage, and converses with the page of her
chamber—anything as an excuse to stay; and when it grows late and he
must perforce depart, he goes indeed, but returns with the pretence of
having forgotten something, in order that he may bid her good-night once
more. He rises in the night and looks out of his window over the houses
towards the chamber where she sleeps, and loses himself in imagination of
the love-thefts which he would commit if by any necromancy he had the
power. Yet he is not extravagantly romantic: he will go wherever his lady
bids him, but he will not range the world in arms merely in order to gain
renown, losing his lady perhaps in the meantime at home. We take his side
when he complains of the Confessor’s want of feeling for a pain which he
does not himself experience, and his readiness to prescribe for a wound of
the heart as if it were a sore of the heel. Even while we smile, we
compassionate the lover who is at last disqualified on account of age, and
recommended to make a ‘beau retret’ while there is yet time.
But there is also another character in whom we are interested, and that
is the lady herself. Gower certainly appreciated something of the delicacy
and poetical refinement which ideal love requires, and this appreciation he

shows also in his Balades; but here we have something more than this. The
figure of the lady, which we see constantly in the background of the
dialogue, is both attractive and human. We recognize in her a creature of
flesh and blood, no goddess indeed, as her lover himself observes, but a
charming embodiment of womanly grace and refinement. She is surrounded
by lovers, but she is wise and wary. She is courteous and gentle, but at the
same time firm: she will not gladly swear, and therefore says nay without an
oath, but it is a decisive nay to any who are disposed to presume. She does
not neglect her household duties merely because a lover insists upon
hanging about her, but leaves him to amuse himself how he may, while she
busies herself elsewhere. If she has leisure and can sit down to her
embroidery, he may read to her if he will, but it must be some sound
romance, and not his own rondels, balades, and virelays in praise of her.
Custom allows him to kiss her when he takes his leave, but if he comes
back on any pretext and takes his leave again, there is not often a second
kiss permitted. She lets him lead her up to the offering in church, and ride
by her side when she drives out, but she will take no presents from him,
though with some of her younger admirers, whose passion she knows is a
less serious matter, she is not so strict, but takes and gives freely. Even the
description of her person is not offensive, as such descriptions almost
always are. Her lover suspects that her soul may be in a perilous state,
seeing that she has the power of saving a man’s life and yet suffers him to
die, but he admits there is no more violence in her than in a child of three
years old, and her words are as pleasant to him as the winds of the South.
Usurious dealing is a vice of which he ventures to accuse her, seeing that he
has given her his whole heart in return for a single glance of her eye, and
she holds to the bargain and will not give heart for heart; but then, as the
Confessor very justly replies, ‘she may be such that her one glance is worth
thy whole heart many times over,’ and so he has sold his heart profitably,
having in return much more than it is worth.
However, the literary characteristic which is perhaps most remarkable in
the Confessio Amantis is connected rather with the form of expression than
with the subject-matter. No justice is done to Gower unless it is
acknowledged that the technical skill which he displays in his verse and the
command which he has over the language for his own purposes is very
remarkable. In the ease and naturalness of his movement within the fetters
of the octosyllabic couplet he far surpasses his contemporaries, including

Chaucer himself. Certain inversions of order and irregularities of
construction he allows himself, and there are many stop-gaps of the
conventional kind in the ordinary flow of his narrative; but in places where
the matter requires it, his admirable management of the verse paragraph, the
metrical smoothness of his lines, attained without unnatural accent or forced
order of words, and the neatness with which he expresses exactly what he
has to say within the precise limits which he lays down for himself, show a
finished mastery of expression which is surprising in that age of half-
developed English style, and in a man who had trained himself rather in
French and Latin than in English composition. Such a sentence as the
following, for example, seems to flow from him with perfect ease, there is
no halting in the metre, no hesitation or inversion for the sake of the rhyme,
it expresses just what it has to express, no more and no less:

’Til that the hihe king of kinges,
Which seth and knoweth alle thinges,
Whos yhe mai nothing asterte,—
The privetes of mannes herte
Thei speke and sounen in his Ere
As thogh thei lowde wyndes were,—
He tok vengance upon this pride.’ (i. 2803 ff.)

Or again, as an example of a more colloquial kind,

‘And if thei techen to restreigne
Mi love, it were an ydel peine
To lerne a thing which mai noght be.
For lich unto the greene tree,
If that men toke his rote aweie,
Riht so myn herte scholde deie,
If that mi love be withdrawe.’ (iv. 2677 ff.)

There is nothing remarkable about the sentiment or expression in these
passages, but they are perfectly simple and natural, and run into rhyming
verse without disturbance of sense or accent; but such technical skill as we
have here is extremely rare among the writers of the time. Chaucer had

wider aims, and being an artist of an altogether superior kind, he attains,
when at his best, to a higher level of achievement in versification as in other
things; but he is continually attempting more than he can perform, he often
aims at the million and misses the unit. His command over his materials is
evidently incomplete, and he has not troubled himself to acquire perfection
of craftsmanship, knowing that other things are more important,

‘And that I do no diligence
To shewe craft but o sentence.’

The result is that the most experienced reader often hesitates in his metre
and is obliged to read lines over twice or even thrice, before he can satisfy
himself how the poet meant his words to be accented and what exactly was
the rhythm he intended. In fact, instead of smoothing the way for his reader,
he often deliberately chooses to spare himself labour by taking every
advantage, fair or unfair, of those licences of accent and syllable
suppression for which the unstable condition of the literary language
afforded scope. The reader of Gower’s verse is never interrupted in this
manner except by the fault of a copyist or an editor; and when we come to
examine the means by which the smoothness is attained, we feel that we
have to do with a literary craftsman who by laborious training has acquired
an almost perfect mastery over his tools. The qualities of which we are
speaking are especially visible in the more formal style of utterance which
belongs to the speeches, letters and epitaphs in our author’s tales. The reply
of Constance to her questioner (ii. 1148 ff.) is a good example of the first:

‘Quod sche, “I am
A womman wofully bestad.
I hadde a lord, and thus he bad,
That I forth with my litel Sone
Upon the wawes scholden wone,
Bot what the cause was, I not:
Bot he which alle thinges wot
Yit hath, I thonke him, of his miht
Mi child and me so kept upriht,
That we be save bothe tuo.”’

And as longer instances we may point to the reflexions of the Emperor
Constantine near the end of the same book (ii. 3243 ff.), and the prayer of
Cephalus (iv. 3197-3252). The letters of Canace and of Penelope are
excellent, each in its own way, and the epitaphs of Iphis (iv. 3674 ff.) and of
Thaise (viii. 1533 ff.) are both good examples of the simple yet finished
style, e.g.

‘Hier lith, which slowh himself, Iphis,
For love of Araxarathen:
And in ensample of tho wommen,
That soffren men to deie so,
Hire forme a man mai sen also,
Hou it is torned fleissh and bon
Into the figure of a Ston:
He was to neysshe and sche to hard.
Be war forthi hierafterward;
Ye men and wommen bothe tuo,
Ensampleth you of that was tho.’ (iv. 3674 ff.)

In a word, the author’s literary sphere may be a limited one, and his
conception of excellence within that sphere may fall very far short of the
highest standard, but such as his ideals are, he is able very completely to
realize them. The French and English elements of the language, instead of
still maintaining a wilful strife, as is so often the case in Chaucer’s metre,
are here combined in harmonious alliance. More especially we must
recognize the fact that in Gower’s English verse we have a consistent and
for the moment a successful attempt to combine the French syllabic with
the English accentual system of metre, and this without sacrificing the
purity of the language as regards forms of words and grammatical inflexion.
We shall see in our subsequent investigations how careful and ingenious he
is in providing by means of elision and otherwise for the legitimate
suppression of those weak terminations which could not find a place as
syllables in the verse without disturbing its accentual flow, while at the
same time the sense of their existence was not to be allowed to disappear.
The system was too difficult and complicated to be possible except for a

specially trained hand, and Gower found no successor in his enterprise; but
the fact that the attempt was made is at least worthy of note.
With considerable merits both of plan and execution the Confessio
Amantis has also no doubt most serious faults. The scheme itself, with its
conception of a Confessor who as priest has to expound a system of
morality, while as a devotee of Venus he is concerned only with the affairs
of love (i. 237-280), can hardly be called altogether a consistent or happy
one. The application of morality to matters of love and of love to questions
of morality is often very forced, though it may sometimes be amusing in its
gravity. The Confessor is continually forgetting one or the other of his two
characters, and the moralist is found justifying unlawful love or the servant
of Venus singing the praises of virginity. Moreover the author did not resist
the temptation to express his views on society in a Prologue which is by no
means sufficiently connected with the general scheme of the poem, though
it is in part a protest against division and discord, that is to say, lack of love.
Still worse is the deliberate departure from the general plan which we find
in the seventh book, where on pretence of affording relief and recreation to
the wearied penitent, the Confessor, who says that he has little or no
understanding except of love, is allowed to make a digression which
embraces the whole field of human knowledge, but more especially deals
with the duties of a king, a second political pamphlet in fact, in which the
stories of kings ruined by lust or insolence, of Sardanapalus, Rehoboam,
Tarquin, and the rest, are certainly intended to some extent as an admonition
of the author’s royal patron. The petition addressed to Rehoboam by his
people against excessive taxation reads exactly like one of the English
parliamentary protests of the period against the extravagant demands of the
crown. Again, the fifth book, which even without this would be
disproportionately long, contains an absolutely unnecessary account of the
various religions of the world, standing there apparently for no reason
except to show the author’s learning, and reaching the highest pitch of
grotesque absurdity when the Confessor occupies himself in demolishing
the claim of Venus to be accounted a goddess, and that too without even the
excuse of having forgotten for the moment that he is supposed to be her
priest. Minor excrescences of the same kind are to be found in the third
book, where the lawfulness of war is discussed, and in the fourth, where
there is a dissertation on the rise of the Arts, and especially of Alchemy. All
that can be said is that these digressions were very common in the books of

the age—the Roman de la Rose, at least in the part written by Jean de
Meun, is one of the worst offenders.
Faults of detail it would be easy enough to point out. The style is at
times prosaic and the matter uninteresting, the verse is often eked out with
such commonplace expressions and helps to rhyme as were used by the
writers of the time, both French or English. Sometimes the sentences are
unduly spun out or the words and clauses are awkwardly transposed for the
sake of the uninterrupted smoothness of the verse. The attainment of this
object moreover is not always an advantage, and sometimes the regularity
of the metre and the inevitable recurrence of the rhyme produces a tiresome
result. On the whole however the effect is not unpleasing, ‘the ease and
regularity with which the verse flows breathes a peaceful contentment,
which communicates itself to the reader, and produces the same effect upon
the ear as the monotonous but not wearisome splashing of a fountainC.’
Moreover, as has already been pointed out, when the writer is at his best,
the rhyme is kept duly in the background, and the paragraph is constructed
quite independently of the couplet, so that this form of metre proves often
to be a far better vehicle for the narrative than might have been at first
supposed.

ii. Date and Circumstances.—The Confessio Amantis in its earliest
form bears upon the face of it the date 1390 (Prol. 331 margin)D, and we
have no reason to doubt that this was the year in which it was first
completed. The author tells us that it was written at the command of King
Richard II, whom he met while rowing on the Thames at London, and who
invited him to come into his barge to speak with him. It is noticeable,
however, that even this first edition has a dedication to Henry earl of Derby,
contained in the Latin lines at the end of the poemE, so that it is not quite
accurate to say that the dedication was afterwards changed, but rather that
this dedication was made more prominent and introduced into the text of
the poem, while at the same time the personal reference to the king in the
Prologue was suppressed. If the date referred to above had been observed
by former editors, the speculations first of Pauli and then of Professor
Hales, tending to throw back the completion of the first recension of the
Confessio Amantis to the year 1386, or even 1383, would have been spared.
Their conclusions rest, moreover, on the purest guess-work. The former

argues that the preface and the epilogueF in their first form date from the
year 1386, because from that year the king (who was then nineteen years
old) ‘developed those dangerous qualities which estranged from him,
amongst others, the poet’; and Professor Hales (Athenæum, Dec. 1881)
contends that the references to the young king’s qualities as a ruler, ‘Justice
medled with pite,’ &c. certainly point to the years immediately succeeding
the Peasants’ revolt (a time when Gower did not regard him as a responsible
ruler at all, but excuses him for the evil proceedings of the government on
account of his tender age)G, that the reference to Richard’s desire to
establish peace (viii. 3014* ff.) must belong to the period of the negotiations
with the French and the subsequent truce, 1383-84, though Professor Hales
is himself quite aware that negotiations for peace were proceeding also in
1389, and finally that the mention of ‘the newe guise of Beawme’ must
indicate the very year succeeding the king’s marriage to Anne of Bohemia
in 1382, whereas in fact the Bohemian fashions would no doubt continue to
prevail at court, and still be accounted new, throughout the queen’s lifetime.
It is on such grounds as these that we are told that the Confessio Amantis in
its first form cannot have been written later than the year 1385 and was
probably as early as 1383.
All such conjectures are destroyed by the fact that the manuscripts of
the first recension bear the date 1390 at the place cited, and though this does
not absolutely exclude a later date for the completion of the book, it is
decisive against an earlier one. Moreover, the fact that in the final recension
this date is omitted (and deliberately omitted, as we know from the erasure
in the Fairfax MS.) points to the conclusion that it is to be regarded
definitely as a date of publication, and therefore was inappropriate for a
later edition.
This conclusion agrees entirely with the other indications, and they are
sufficiently precise, though the fact that one of these also has unluckily
escaped the notice of the editors has caused it to be generally overlookedH.
The form of epilogue which was substituted for that of the first
recension, and in which the over-sanguine praise of Richard as a ruler is
cancelled, bears in the margin the date of the fourteenth year of his reign
(viii. 2973 margin), ‘Hic in anno quarto decimo Regis Ricardi orat pro statu
regni,’ &c. Now the fourteenth year of King Richard II was from June 21,

1390, to the same day of 1391. We must therefore suppose that the change
in this part of the book took place, in some copies at least, within a few
months of its first completion.
Thirdly, we have an equally precise date for the alteration in the
Prologue, by which all except a formal mention of Richard II is excluded,
while the dedication to Henry of Lancaster is introduced into the text of the
poem; and here the time indicated is the sixteenth year of King Richard
(Prol. 25), a date which appears also in the margin of some copies here and
at l. 97, so that we may assume that this final change of form took place in
the year 1392-93, that is, not later than June 1393.
Having thus every step dated for us by the author, we may, if we think it
worth while, proceed to conjecture what were the political events which
suggested his action; but in such a case as this it is evidently preposterous to
argue first from the political conditions, of which as they personally
affected our author and his friends we can only be very imperfectly
informed, and then to endeavour to force the given dates into accordance
with our own conclusionsI.
It will be observed from the above dates that we are led to infer two
stages of alteration, and the expectation is raised of finding the poem in
some copies with the epilogue rewritten but the preface left in its original
state. This expectation is fulfilled. The Bodley MS. 294 gives a text of this
kind, and it is certain that there were others of the same form, for
Berthelette used for his edition a manuscript of this kind, which was not
identical with that which we have.
In discussing the import of the various changes introduced by the author
it is of some importance to bear in mind the fact already mentioned that
even the first issue of the Confessio Amantis had a kind of dedication to
Henry of Lancaster in the Latin lines with which it concluded,

‘Derbeie comiti, recolunt quem laude periti,
Vade liber purus sub eo requiesce futurus.’

This seems rather to dispose of the idea that a dedication to Henry would be
inconsistent with loyalty to Richard, a suggestion which would hardly have
been made in the year 1390, or even 1393. No doubt those copies which

contained in the preface the statement that the book was written at the
command of the king and for his sake, and in the epilogue the presentation
of the completed book to him (3050* ff.), if they had also appended to them
the Latin lines which commend the work to the earl of Derby, may be said
to have contained in a certain sense a double dedication, the compliment
being divided between the king and his brilliant cousin, and very probably a
copy which was intended for the court would be without the concluding
lines, as we find to be the case with some manuscripts; but the suggestion
that the expressions of loyalty and the praises of Richard as a ruler which
we find in the first epilogue are properly to be called inconsistent with a
dedication of the poem to Henry of Lancaster, his cousin and counsellor, is
plausible only in the light of later events, which could not be foreseen by
the poet, in the course of which Henry became definitely the opponent of
Richard and finally took the lead in deposing him. It is true that the earl of
Derby had been one of the lords appellant in 1387, but after the king’s
favourites had been set aside, he was for the time reconciled to Richard, and
he could not in any sense be regarded as the leader of an opposition party.
That Gower, when he became disgusted with Richard II, should have set
Henry’s name in the Prologue in place of that of the king, as representing
his ideal of knighthood and statesmanship, may be regarded either as a
coincidence with the future events, or as indicating that Gower had some
discrimination in selecting a possible saviour of society; but it is certain that
at this time the poet can have had no definite idea that his hero would
become a candidate for the throne.
The political circumstances of the period during which the Confessio
Amantis was written and revised are not very easy to disentangle. We may
take it as probable that the plan of its composition, under the combined
influence of Chaucer’s Legend of Good WomenJ and of the royal command,
may have been laid about the year 1386. Before this time Richard would
scarcely have been regarded by Gower as responsible for the government,
and he would naturally look hopefully upon the young sovereign, then just
entering upon his duties, as one who with proper admonition and due choice
of advisers might turn out to be a good ruler. During the succeeding years
the evil counsellors of the king were removed by the action of the lords
appellant and the Parliament, and in the year 1389 a moderate and national
policy seemed to have been finally adopted by the king, with William of
Wykeham as Chancellor and the young earl of Derby, who had been one of

the appellants but had quarrelled with his uncle Gloucester, among the
king’s trusted advisers. By the light of subsequent events Gower
condemned the whole behaviour of the king during this period as malicious
and treacherous, but this could hardly have been his judgement of it at the
time, for Richard’s dissimulation, if dissimulation it were, was deep enough
to deceive all parties. Consequently, up to the year 1390 at least, he may
have continued, though with some misgivings, to trust in the king’s good
intentions and to regard him as a ruler who might effectually heal the
divisions of the land, as he had already taken steps to restore peace to it
outwardly. It is quite possible also that something may have come to his
knowledge in the course of the year 1390-91 which shook his faith. It was
at this time, in July 1390, just at the beginning of the fourteenth year of
King Richard, that his hero the earl of Derby left the court and the kingdom
to exercise his chivalry in Prussia, and for this there may have been a good
reason. We know too little in detail of the events of the year to be able to
say exactly what causes of jealousy may have arisen between the king and
his cousin, who was nearly exactly of an age with him and seems to have
attracted much more attention than Richard himself at the jousts of St.
Inglevert in May of this year. Whatever feeling there may have been on the
side of the earl of Derby would doubtless reflect itself in the minds of his
friends and supporters, and something of this kind may have deepened into
certitude the suspicions which Gower no doubt already had in his heart of
the ultimate intentions of Richard II. The result was that in some copies at
least of the Confessio Amantis the concluding praises of the king as a ruler
were removed and lines of a more general character on the state of the
kingdom and the duties of a king were substituted, but still there was no
mention of the earl of Derby except as before in the final Latin lines. Two
years later, 1392-93, when the earl of Derby had fairly won his spurs and at
the age of twenty-five might be regarded as a model of chivalry, the
mention of Richard as the suggester of the work was removed, and the
name of Henry set in the text as the sole object of the dedication.
The date sixteenth year must certainly be that of this last change, but the
occasion doubtless was the sending of a presentation copy to Henry, and
this would hardly amount to publication. The author probably did not feel
called upon publicly to affront the king by removing his name and praises,
either at the beginning or the end, from the copies generally issued during
his reign. Whether or not this conduct justifies the charge of time-serving

timidity, which has been made against Gower, I cannot undertake to decide.
He was, however, in fact rather of an opposite character, even pedantically
stiff in passing judgement severely on those in high places, and not bating a
syllable of what he thought proper for himself to say or for a king to hear,
though while the king was young and might yet shake himself free from
evil influences he was willing to take as favourable a view of his character
as possible. Probably he was for some time rather in two minds about the
matter, but in any case ‘timid and obsequious’ are hardly the right epithets
for the author of the Vox Clamantis.
Before leaving this subject something should perhaps be said upon a
matter which has attracted no little attention, namely the supposed quarrel
between the author of the Confessio Amantis and Chaucer. It is well known
that the first recension of our poem has a passage referring to Chaucer in
terms of eulogy (viii. 2941*-57*), and that this was omitted when the
epilogue was rewritten. This fact has been brought into connexion with the
apparent reference to Gower in the Canterbury Tales, where the Man of
Law in the preamble to his tale disclaims on Chaucer’s behalf such ‘cursed
stories’ as those of Canace and Apollonius, because they treat of incest. It
has been thought that this was meant for a serious attack on Gower, and that
he took offence at it and erased the praise of Chaucer from the Confessio
Amantis.
It is known of course that the two poets were on personally friendly
terms, not only from the dedication of Troilus, but from the fact that when
Chaucer was sent on a mission to the Continent in 1378, he appointed
Gower one of his attorneys in his absence. It is possible that their friendship
was interrupted by a misunderstanding, but it may be doubted whether there
is sufficient proof of this in the facts which have been brought forward.
In the first place I question whether Chaucer’s censure is to be taken
very seriously. That it refers to Gower I have little doubt, but that the attack
was a humorous one is almost equally clear. Chaucer was aware that some
of his own tales were open to objection on the score of morality, and when
he saw a chance of scoring a point on the very ground where his friend
thought himself strongest, he seized it with readiness. Some degree of
seriousness there probably is, for Chaucer’s sound and healthy view of life
instinctively rejected the rather morbid horrors to which he refers; but it
may easily be suspected that he was chiefly amused by the opportunity of

publicly lecturing the moralist, who perhaps had privately remonstrated
with himK. As to the notion that Chaucer had been seriously offended by the
occasional and very trifling resemblances of phrase in Gower’s tale of
Constance with his own version of the same original, it is hardly worth
discussion.
There is of course the possibility that Gower may have taken it more
seriously than it was meant, and though he was not quite so devoid of a
sense of humour as it has been the fashion to supposeL, yet he may well
have failed to enjoy a public attack, however humorous, upon two of his
tales. It must be observed, however, that if we suppose the passage in
question to have been the cause of the excision of Gower’s lines about
Chaucer, we must assume that the publication of it took place precisely
within this period of a few months which elapsed between the first and the
second versions of Gower’s epilogue.
Before further considering the question as to what was actually our
author’s motive in omitting the tribute to his brother poet, we should do
well to observe that this tribute was apparently allowed to stand in some
copies of the rewritten epilogue. There is one good manuscript, that in the
possession of Lord Middleton, in which the verses about Chaucer not only
stand in combination with the new form of epilogue, but in a text which has
also the revised preface, dated two years laterM. Hence it seems possible
that the exclusion of the Chaucer verses was rather accidental than
deliberate, and from this and other considerations an explanation may be
derived which will probably seem too trivial, but nevertheless is perhaps the
true one. We know from the Fairfax MS. of the Confessio Amantis and from
several original copies of the Vox Clamantis that the author’s method of
rewriting his text was usually to erase a certain portion, sometimes a whole
column or page, and substitute a similar number of lines of other matter. It
will be observed here that for the thirty lines 2941*-2970*, including the
reference to Chaucer, are substituted thirty lines from which that reference
is excluded. After this come four Latin lines replacing an equal number in
the original recension, and then follow fifteen lines, 2971-2985, which are
the same except a single line in the two editions. It may be that the author,
wishing to mention the departure of the Confessor and the thoughts which
he had upon his homeward way, sacrificed the Chaucer verses as an
irrelevance, in order to find room for this matter between the Adieu of

Venus and the lines beginning ‘He which withinne daies sevene,’ which he
did not intend to alter, and that this proceeding, carried out upon a copy of
the first recension which has not come down to us, determined the general
form of the text for the copies with epilogue rewritten, though in a few
instances care was taken to combine the allusion to Chaucer with the other
alterations. Such an explanation as this would be in accord with the
methods of the author in some other respects; for, as we shall see later on,
the most probable explanation of the omission in the third recension of the
additional passages in the fifth and seventh books, is that a first recension
copy was used in a material sense as a basis for the third recension text, and
it was therefore not convenient to introduce alterations which increased the
number of lines in the body of the work.

iii. Analysis.
Prologus.
1-92. Preface. By the books of those that were before us we are
instructed, and therefore it is good that we also should write something
which may remain after our days. But to write of wisdom only is not good. I
would rather go by the middle path and make a book of pleasure and profit
both: and since few write in English, my meaning is to make a bookN for
England’s sake now in the sixteenth year of King Richard. Things have
changed and books are less beloved than in former days, but without them
the fame and the example of the virtuous would be lost. Thus I, simple
scholar as I am, purpose to write a book touching both upon the past and the
present, and though I have long been sick, yet I will endeavour as I may to
provide wisdom for the wise. For this prologue belongs all to wisdom, and
by it the wise may recall to their memory the fortunes of the world; but after
the prologue the book shall be of Love, which does great wonders among
men. Also I shall speak of the vices and virtues of rulers. But as my wit is
too small to admonish every man, I submit my work for correction to my
own lord Henry of Lancaster, with whom my heart is in accord, and whom
God has proclaimed the model of knighthood. God grant I may well achieve
the work which I have taken in hand.
93-192. Temporal Rulers. In the time past things went well: there was
plenty and riches, with honour for noble deeds, and each estate kept its due

place. Justice was upheld and the people obeyed their rulers. Man’s heart
was then shown in his face and his thought expressed by his words, virtue
was exalted and vice abased. Now all is changed, and above all discord and
hatred have taken the place of love, there is no stable peace, no justice and
righteousness. All kingdoms are alike in this, and heaven alone knows what
is to be done. The sole remedy is that those who are the world’s guides
should follow good counsel and should be obeyed by their people; and if
king and council were at one, it might be hoped that the war would be
brought to an end, which is so much against the peace of Christ’s religion
and from which no land gets any good. May God, who is above all things,
give that peace of which the lands have need.
193-498. The Church. Formerly the life of the clergy was an example to
all, there was no simony, no disputes in the Church, no ambition for worldly
honour. Pride was held a vice and humility a virtue. Alms were given to the
poor and the clergy gave themselves to preaching and to prayer. Thus
Christ’s faith was first taught, but now it is otherwise. Simony and worldly
strife prevail; and if priests take part in wars, I know not who shall make the
peace. But heaven is far and the world is near, and they regard nothing but
vainglory and covetousness, so that the tithe goes at once to the war, as
though Christ could not do them right by other ways. That which should
bring salvation to the world is now the cause of evil: the prelates are such as
Gregory wrote of, who desire a charge in order that they may grow rich and
great, and the faith is hindered thereby. Ambition and avarice have
destroyed charity; Sloth is their librarian and delicacy has put away their
abstinence. Moreover Envy everywhere burns in the clergy like the fire of
Etna, as we may see now [in this year of grace 1390] at Avignon. To see the
Church thus fall between two stools is a cause of sorrow to us all: God grant
that it may go well at last with him who has the truth. But as a fire spreads
while men are slothfully drinking, so this schism causes the new sect of
Lollardy to spring up, and many another heresy among the clergy
themselves. It were better to dike and delve and have the true faith, than to
know all that the Bible says and err as some of these do. If men had before
their eyes the virtues which Christ taught, they would not thus dispute about
the Papacy. Each one attends to his own profit, but none to the general
cause of the Church, and thus Christ’s fold is broken and the flock is
devoured. The shepherds, intent upon worldly good, wound instead of
healing, and rob the sheep unjustly of their wool. Nay, they drive them

among the brambles, so that they may have the wool which the thorns tear
off. If the wolf comes in the way, their staff is not at hand to defend the
sheep, but they are ready enough to smite the sheep with it, if they offend
ever so little. There are some indeed in whom virtue dwells, whom God has
called as Aaron was called, but most follow Simon at the heels, whose
chariot rolls upon wheels of covetousness and pride. They teach how good
it is to clothe and feed the poor, yet of their own goods they do not
distribute. They say that chastity should be preserved by abstinence, but
they eat daintily and lie softly, and whether they preserve their chastity
thereby, I dare not say: I hear tales, but I will not understand. Yet the vice of
the evil-doers is no reproof to the good, for every man shall bear his own
works.
499-584. The Commons. As for the people, it is to be feared that that
may happen which has already come to pass in sundry lands, that they may
break the bounds and overflow in a ruinous flood. Everywhere there is lack
of law and growth of error; all say that this world has gone wrong, and
every one gives his judgement as to the cause; but he who looks inwards
upon himself will be ready to excuse his God, in whom there is no default.
The cause of evil is in ourselves. Some say it is fortune and some the
planets, but in truth all depends upon man. No estate is secure, the fortune
of it goes now up, now down, and all this is in consequence of man’s
doings. In the Bible I find a tale which teaches that division is the chief
cause why things may not endure, and that man himself is to blame for the
changes which have overthrown kingdoms.
585-662. Nabugodonosor in a dream saw an image with the head and
neck of gold, the breast and arms of silver, the belly and thighs of brass, the
legs of steel, and the feet of mixed steel and clay. On the feet of this image
fell a great stone which rolled down from a hill, and the image was
destroyed. Daniel expounded this of the successive kingdoms of the world.
663-880. These were the Four Monarchies, of Babylon, of Persia, of
the Greeks, and of the Romans. We are now in the last age, that of
dissension and division, as shown by the state of the Empire and the
Papacy. This is that which was designated by the feet of the image.
881-1088. We are near to the end of the world, as the apostle tells us.
The world stands now divided like the feet of the image. Wars are general,

and yet the clergy preach that charity is the foundation of all good deeds.
Man is the cause of all the evil, and therefore the image bore the likeness of
a man. The heavenly bodies, the air and the earth suffer change and
corruption through the sin of man, who is in himself a little world. When he
is disordered in himself, the elements are all at strife with him and with
each other. Division is the cause of destruction. So it is with man, who has
within him diverse principles which are at strife with one another, and in
whom also there is a fatal division between the body and the soul, which led
to the fall from a state of innocence. The confusion of tongues at the
building of the tower of Babel was a further cause of division, and at last all
peace and charity shall depart, and the stone shall fall. Thenceforward every
man shall dwell either in heaven, where all is peace, or in hell, which is full
of discord.
Would God that there were in these days any who could set peace on the
earth, as Arion once by harping brought beasts and men into accord. But
this is a matter which only God can direct.

Lib. I.
1-92. I cannot stretch my hand to heaven and set in order the world: so
great a task is more than I am able to compass: I must let that alone and
treat of other things. Therefore I think to change from this time forth the
style of my writings, and to speak of a matter with which all the world has
to do, and that is Love; wherein almost all are out of rule and measure, for
no man is able to resist it or to find a remedy for it. If there be anything in
this world which is governed blindly by fortune, it is love: this is a game in
which no man knows whether he shall win or lose. I am myself one who
belongs to this school, and I will tell what befel me not long since in regard
to love, that others may take example thereby.
93-202. I fared forth to walk in the month of May, when every bird has
chosen his mate and rejoices over the love which he has achieved; but I was
further off from mine than earth is from heaven. So to the wood I went, not
to sing with the birds, but to weep and lament; and after a time I fell to the
ground and wished for death. Then I looked up to the heaven and prayed the
god and the goddess of love to show me some grace. Anon I saw them; and
he, the king of love, passed me by with angry look and cast at me a fiery

lance, which pierced through my heart. But the queen remained, and asked
me who I was, and bade me make known my malady. I told her that I had
served her long and asked only my due wage, but she frowned and said that
there were many pretenders, who in truth had done no service, and bade me
tell the truth and show forth all my sickness. ‘That can I well do,’ I replied,
‘if my life may last long enough.’ Then she looked upon me and said, ‘My
will is first that thou confess thyself to my priest.’ And with that she called
Genius, her priest, and he came forth and sat down to hear my shrift.
203-288. This worthy priest bade me tell what I had felt for love’s sake,
both the joy and the sorrow; and I fell down devoutly on my knees and
prayed him to question me from point to point, lest I should forget things
which concerned my shrift, for my heart was disturbed so that I could not
myself direct my wits. He replied that he was there to hear my confession
and to question me: but he would not only speak of love; for by his office of
priest he was bound to set forth the moral vices. Yet he would show also the
properties of Love, for he was retained in the service of Venus and knew
little of other things. His purpose was to expound the nature of every vice,
as it became a priest to do, and so to apply his teaching to the matter of love
that I should plainly understand his lore.
289-574. Sins of Seeing and Hearing. I prayed him to say his will, and I
would obey, and he bade me confess as touching my five senses, which are
the gates through which things come into the heart, and first of the principal
and most perilous, the sense of sight. Many a man has done mischief to love
through seeing, and often the fiery dart of love pierces the heart through the
eye. (289-332.)
Ovid tells a tale of the evils of ‘mislook,’ how Acteon when hunting
came upon Diana and her nymphs bathing, and because he did not turn
away his eyes, he was changed into a hart and torn to pieces by his own
hounds. (333-378.)
Again, the Gorgons were three sisters, who had but one eye between
them, which they passed one to another, and if any man looked upon them
he was straightway turned into a stone. These were all killed by Perseus, to
whom Pallas lent a shield with which he covered his face, and Mercury a
sword with which he slew the monsters. (389-435.)

My priest therefore bade me beware of misusing my sight, lest I also
should be turned to stone; and further he warned me to take good heed of
my hearing, for many a vanity comes to man’s heart through the ears. (436-
462.)
There is a serpent called Aspidis, which has a precious stone in his head,
but when a man tries to overcome him by charms in order to win this stone,
he refuses to hear the enchantment, laying one ear close to the earth and
stopping the other with his tail. (463-480.)
Moreover, in the tale of Troy we read of Sirens, who are in the form of
women above and of fishes below, and these sing so sweetly, that the sailors
who pass are enchanted by it and cannot steer their ships: so they are
wrecked and torn to pieces by the monsters. Uluxes, however, escaped this
peril by stopping the ears of his company, and then they slew many of them.
(481-529.)
From these examples (he said) I might learn how to keep the eye and
the ear from folly, and if I could control these two, the rest of the senses
were easy to rule. (530-549.)
I made my confession then, and said that as for my eyes I had indeed
cast them upon the Gorgon Medusa, and my heart had been changed into
stone, upon which my lady had graven an eternal mark of love. Moreover, I
was guilty also as regards my ear; for when I heard my lady speak, my
reason lost all rule, and I did not do as Uluxes did, but fell at once in the
place where she was, and was torn to pieces in my thought. (550-567.)
God amend thee, my son, he said. I will ask now no more of thy senses,
but of other things. (568-574.)
The Seven deadly Vices.—Pride.
575-1234. Hypocrisy. Pride, the first of the seven deadly Vices, has five
ministers, of whom the first is called Hypocrisy. Hast thou been of his
company, my son?
I know not, father, what hypocrisy means. I beseech you to teach me
and I will confess. (575-593.)
A hypocrite is one who feigns innocence without, but is not so within.
Such are many of those who belong to the religious orders, with some of

those who occupy the high places of the Church, and others also who
pretend to piety, while all their design is to increase their worldly wealth.
(594-672.)
There are lovers also of this kind, who deceive by flattery and soft
speech, and who pretend to be suffering sickness for love, but are ready
always to beguile the woman who trusts them. Art thou one of these, my
son?
Nay, father, for I have no need to feign: my heart is always more sick
than my visage, and I am more humble towards my lady within than any
outward sign can show. I will not say but that I may have been guilty
towards others in my youth; but there is one towards whom my word has
ever been sincere.
It is well, my son, to tell the truth always towards love; for if thou
deceive and win thereby, thou wilt surely repent it afterwards, as a tale
which I will tell may show. (672-760.)
Mundus and Paulina. At Rome, in the time of Tiberius, a worthy lady
Pauline was deceived by Mundus, who bribed the priests of Isis and
induced them to bring her to the temple at night on pretence of meeting the
god Anubus. Mundus concealed himself in the temple and personated the
god. Meeting her on her way home he let her understand the case, and she,
overcome with grief and shame, reported the matter to her husband. The
priests were put to death, Mundus was sent into exile, and the image of Isis
was thrown into the Tiber. (761-1059.)
The Trojan Horse. Again, to take a case of the evil wrought by
Hypocrisy in other matters, we read how, when the Greeks could not
capture Troy, they made a horse of brass and secretly agreeing with Antenor
and Eneas they concluded a feigned peace with the Trojans and desired to
bring this horse as an offering to Minerva into the city. The gates were too
small to admit it, and so the wall was broken down, and the horse being
brought in was offered as an evidence of everlasting peace with Troy. The
Greeks then departed to their ships, as if to set sail, but landed again in the
night on a signal from Sinon. They came up through the broken gate, and
slew those within, and burnt the city. (1060-1189.)

Thus often in love, when a man seems most true, he is most false, and
for a time such lovers speed, but afterwards they suffer punishment.
Therefore eschew Hypocrisy in love. (1190-1234.)
1235-1875. Inobedience. The second point of Pride is Inobedience,
which bows before no law, whether of God or man. Art thou, my son,
disobedient to love?
Nay, father, except when my lady bids me forbear to speak of my love,
or again when she bids me choose a new mistress. She might as well say,
‘Go, take the Moon down from its place in heaven,’ as bid me remove her
love out of my breast. Thus far I disobey, but in no other thing. (1235-
1342.)
There are two attendants, my son, on this vice, called Murmur and
Complaint, which grudge at all the fortune that betides, be it good or bad.
And so among lovers there are those who will not faithfully submit to love,
but complain of their fortune, if they fail of anything that they desire.
My father, I confess that at times I am guilty of this, when my lady
frowns upon me, but I dare not say a word to her which might displease her.
I murmur and am disobedient in my heart, and so far I confess that I am
‘unbuxom.’
I counsel thee, my son, to be obedient always to love’s hest, for
obedience often avails where strength may do nothing; and of this I
remember an example written in a chronicle. (1343-1406.)
There was a knight, nephew to the emperor, by name Florent,
chivalrous and amorous, who seeking adventures was taken prisoner by
enemies. He had slain the son of the captain of the castle to which he was
led; and they desired to take vengeance on him, but feared the emperor. An
old and cunning dame, grandmother to the slain man, proposed a condition.
He should be allowed to go, on promise of returning within a certain time,
and then he should suffer death unless he could answer rightly the question,
‘What do all women most desire?’ He gave his pledge, and sought
everywhere an answer to the question, but without success. When the day
approached, he set out; and as he passed through a forest, he saw a loathly
hag sitting under a tree. She offered to save him if he would take her as his
wife. He refused at first, but then seeing no other way, he accepted, on the

condition that he should try all other answers first, and if they might save
him he should be free. She told him that what all women most desire is to
be sovereign of man’s love. He saved himself by this answer, and returned
to find her, being above all things ashamed to break his troth. Foul as she
was, he respected her womanhood, and set her upon his horse before him.
He reached home, journeying by night and hiding himself by day, and they
were wedded in the night, she in her fine clothes looking fouler than before.
When they were in bed, he turned away from her, but she claimed his bond;
and he turning towards her saw a young lady of matchless beauty by his
side. She stayed him till he should make his choice, whether he would have
her thus by night or by day; and he, despairing of an answer, left it to her to
decide. By thus making her his sovereign, he had broken the charm which
bound her. She was the king’s daughter of Sicily, and had been transformed
by her stepmother, till she should win the love and sovereignty of a peerless
knight. Thus obedience may give a man good fortune in love. (1407-1861.)
Know then, my son, that thou must ever obey thy love and follow her
will.
By this example, my father, I shall the better keep my observance to
love. Tell me now if there be any other point of Pride. (1862-1882.)
1883-2383. Surquidry or Presumption holds the third place in the court
of Pride. He does everything by guess and often repents afterwards: he will
follow no counsel but his own, depends only on his own wit, and will not
even return thanks to God.
When he is a lover, he thinks himself worthy to love any queen, and he
often imagines that he is loved when he is not. Tell me, what of this, my
son?
I trow there is no man less guilty here than I, or who thinks himself less
worthy. Love is free to all men and hides in the heart unseen, but I shall not
for that imagine that I am worthy to love. I confess, however, that I have
allowed myself to think that I was beloved when I was not, and thus I have
been guilty. But if ye would tell me a tale against this vice, I should fare the
better. (1883-1976.)
My son, the proud knight Capaneus trusted so in himself that he would
not pray to the gods, and said that prayer was begotten only of cowardice.

But on a day, when he assailed the city of Thebes, God took arms against
his pride and smote him to dust with a thunderbolt. Thus when a man thinks
himself most strong, he is nearest to destruction. (1977-2009.)
Again, when a man thinks that he can judge the faults of others and
forgets his own, evil often comes to him, as in the tale which follows.
The Trump of Death. There was a king of Hungary, who went forth with
his court in the month of May, and meeting two pilgrims of great age,
alighted from his car and kissed their hands and feet, giving them alms also.
The lords of the land were displeased that the king should thus abase his
royalty, and among them chiefly the king’s brother, who said that he would
rebuke the king for his deed. When they were returned, the brother spoke to
the king, and said he must excuse himself to his lords. He answered
courteously and they went to supper.
Now there was ordained by the law a certain trumpet of brass, which
was called the Trump of Death: and when any lord should be put to death,
this was sounded before his gate. The king then on that night sent the man
who had this office, to blow the trumpet at his brother’s gate. Hearing the
sound he knew that he must die, and called his friends together, who
advised that he with his wife and his five children should go in all humility
to entreat the king’s pardon. So they went lamenting through the city and
came to the court. Men told the king how it was, and he coming forth
blamed his brother because he had been so moved by a mere human
sentence of death, which might be revoked. ‘Thou canst not now marvel,’
he said, ‘at that which I did: for I saw in the pilgrims the image of my own
death, as appointed by God’s ordinance, and to this law I did obeisance; for
compared to this all other laws are as nothing. Therefore, my brother, fear
God with all thine heart; for all shall die and be equal in his sight.’ Thus the
king admonished his brother and forgave him. (2010-2253.)
I beseech you, father, to tell me some example of this in the cause of
love.
My son, in love as well as in other things this vice should be eschewed,
as a tale shows which Ovid told.
There was one Narcissus, who had such pride that he thought no woman
worthy of him. On a day he went to hunt in the forest, and being hot and

thirsty lay down to drink from a spring. There he saw the image of his face
in the water and thought it was a nymph. Love for her came upon him and
he in vain entreated her to come out to him: at length in despair he smote
himself against a rock till he was dead. The nymphs of the springs and of
the woods in pity buried his body, and from it there sprang flowers which
bloom in the winter, against the course of nature, as his folly was. (2254-
2366.)
My father, I shall ever avoid this vice. I would my lady were as humble
towards me as I am towards her. Ask me therefore further, if there be ought
else.
God forgive thee, my son, if thou have sinned in this: but there is
moreover another vice of Pride which cannot rule his tongue, and this also
is an evil. (2367-2398.)
2399-2680. Avantance. This vice turns praise into blame by loud
proclaiming of his own merit; and so some lovers do. Tell me then if thou
hast ever received a favour in love and boasted of it afterwards.
Nay, father, for I never received any favour of which I could boast. Ask
further then, for here I am not guilty.
That is well, my son, but know that love hates this vice above all others,
as thou mayest learn by an example. (2399-2458.)
Alboin and Rosemund. Albinus was king of the Lombards, and he in
war with the Geptes killed their king Gurmond in battle, and made a cup of
his skull. Also he took Gurmond’s daughter Rosemund as his wife. When
the wars were over, he made a great feast, that his queen might make
acquaintance with the lords of his kingdom; and at the banquet his pride
arose, and he sent for this cup, which was richly set in gold and gems, and
bade his wife drink of it, saying, ‘Drink with thy father.’ She, not knowing
what cup it was, took it and drank; and then the king told how he had won it
by his victory, and had won also his wife’s love, who had thus drunk of the
skull. She said nothing, but thought of the unkindness of her lord in thus
boasting, as he sat by her side, that he had killed her father and made a cup
of his skull. Then after the feast she planned vengeance with Glodeside her
maid. A knight named Helmege, the king’s butler, loved Glodeside. To him
the queen gave herself in place of her maid, and then making herself

known, she compelled him to help her. They slew Albinus, but were
themselves compelled to flee, taking refuge with the Duke of Ravenna, who
afterwards caused them to be put to death by poison. (2459-2646.)
It is good therefore that a man hide his own praise, both in other things
and also in love, or else he may fail of his purpose.
2681-3066. Vain Glory thinks of this world only and delights in new
things. He will change his guise like a chameleon. He will make carols,
balades, roundels and virelays, and if he gets any advantage in love, he
rejoices over it so that he forgets all thought of death. Tell me if thou hast
done so.
My father, I may not wholly excuse myself, in that I have been for love
the better arrayed, and have attempted rondels, balades, virelays and carols
for her whom I love, and sung them moreover, and made myself merry in
chamber and in hall. But I fared none the better: my glory was in vain. She
would not hear my songs, and my fine array brought me no reason to be
glad. And yet I have had gladness at times in hearing how men praised her,
and also when I have tidings that she is well. Tell me if I am to blame for
this.
I acquit thee, my son, and on this matter I think to tell a tale how God
does vengeance on this vice. Listen now to a tale that is true, though it be
not of love. (2681-2784.)
There was a king of whom I spoke before, Nabugodonosor by name.
None was so mighty in his days, and in his Pride he ruled the earth as a god.
This king in his sleep saw a tree which overshadowed the whole earth, and
all birds and beasts had lodging in it or fed beneath it. Then he heard a
voice bidding to hew down the tree and destroy it; but the root (it said)
should remain, and bear no man’s heart, but feed on grass like an ox, till the
water of the heaven should have washed him seven times and he should be
made humble to the will of God. The King could find none to interpret this
dream, and sent therefore for Daniel. He said that the tree betokened the
king, and that as the tree was hewn down, so his kingdom should be
overthrown, and he should pasture like an ox and be rained upon and
afflicted, until he acknowledged the greatness of God. The punishment was
ordained, he said, for his vain glory, and if he would leave this and entreat
for grace, he might perchance escape the evil.

But Pride will not suffer humility to stand with him. Neither for his
dream nor yet for Daniel’s word did this king leave his vain glory, and so
that which had been foretold came upon him.
Then after seven years he remembered his former state and wept; and
though he might not find words, he prayed within his heart to God and
vowed to leave his vain glory, reaching up his feet towards the heaven,
kneeling and braying for mercy. Suddenly he was changed again into a man
and received his power as before, and the pride of vain glory passed for
ever from his heart. (2785-3042.)
Be not thou, my son, like a beast, but take humility in hand, for a proud
man cannot win love. I think now again to tell thee a tale which may teach
thee to follow Humility and eschew Pride.
3067-3425. Humility. The Three Questions. There was once a young
and wise king, who delighted in propounding difficult questions, and one
knight of his court was so ready in answering them that the king conceived
jealousy and resolved to put him to confusion. He bade him therefore
answer these three questions on pain of death: (1) What is it that has least
need and yet men help it most? (2) What is worth most and yet costs least?
(3) What costs most and is worth least? The knight went home to consider,
but the more he beat his brains, the more he was perplexed. He had two
daughters, the younger fourteen years of age, who, perceiving his grief,
entreated him to tell her the cause. At length he did so, and she asked to be
allowed to answer for him to the king. When the day came, they went
together to the court, and the knight left the answers to the maiden, at which
all wondered. She replied to the first question that it was the Earth, upon
which men laboured all the year round, and yet it had no need of help, being
itself the source of all life. As to the second, it was Humility, through which
God sent down his Son, and chose Mary above all others; and yet this costs
least to maintain, for it brings about no wars among men. The third
question, she said, referred to Pride, which cost Lucifer and the rebel angels
the loss of heaven, and Adam the loss of paradise, and was the cause also of
so many evils in the world.
The king was satisfied, and looking on the maiden he said, ‘I like thine
answer well, and thee also, and if thou wert of lineage equal to these lords, I
would take thee for my wife. Ask what thou wilt of me and thou shalt have

it.’ She asked an earldom for her father, and this granted, she thanked the
king upon her knees, and claimed fulfilment of his former word. Whatever
she may have been once, she was now an earl’s daughter, and he had
promised to take her as his wife. The king, moved by love, gave his assent,
and thus it was. This king ruled Spain in old days and his name was
Alphonse: the knight was called Don Petro, and the daughter wise
Peronelle. (3067-3402.)
Thus, my son, thou mayest know the evil of Pride, which fell from his
place in heaven and in paradise; but Humility is gentle and debonnaire.
Therefore leave Pride and take Humility.
My father, I will not forget: but now seek further of my shrift.
My son, I have spoken enough of Pride, and I think now to tell of Envy,
which is a hellish vice, in that it does evil without any cause. (3403-3446.)

Lib. II.
1-220. Sorrow for another’s Joy. The next after Pride is Envy, who
burns ever in his thought, if he sees another preferred to himself or more
worthy. Hast thou, my son, in love been sick of another man’s welfare?
Yea, father, a thousand times, when I have seen another blithe of love. I
am then like Etna, which burns ever within, or like a ship driven about by
the winds and waves. But this is only as regards my lady, when I see lovers
approach her and whisper in her ear. Not that I mistrust her wisdom, for
none can keep her honour better; yet when I see her make good cheer to any
man, I am full of Envy to see him glad.
My son, the hound which cannot eat chaff, will yet drive away the oxen
who come to the barn; and so it is often with love. If a man is out of grace
himself, he desires that another should fail. (1-96.)
Acis and Galatea. Ovid tells a tale how Poliphemus loved Galathea, and
she, who loved another, rejected him. He waited then for a chance to grieve
her in her love, and he saw her one day in speech with young Acis under a
cliff by the sea. His heart was all afire with Envy, and he fled away like an
arrow from a bow, and ran roaring as a wild beast round Etna. Then
returning he pushed down a part of the cliff upon Acis and slew him. She

fled to the sea, where Neptune took her in his charge, and the gods
transformed Acis into a spring with fresh streams, as he had been fresh in
love, and were wroth with Polipheme for his Envy. (97-200.)
Thus, my son, thou mayest understand that thou must let others be.
My father, the example is good, and I will work no evil in love for
Envy. (200-220.)
221-382. Joy for another’s Grief. This vice rejoices when he sees other
men sad, and thinks that he rises by another’s fall, as in other things, so also
in love. Hast thou done so, my son?
Yes, father, I confess that when I see the lovers of my lady get a fall, I
rejoice at it; and the more they lose, the more I think that I shall win: and if
I am none the better for it, yet it is a pleasure to me to see another suffer the
same pains as I. Tell me if this be wrong.
This kind of Envy, my son, can never be right. It will sometimes be
willing to suffer loss, in order that another may also suffer, as a tale will
show. (221-290.)
The Travellers and the Angel. Jupiter sent down an angel to report of the
condition of mankind. He joined himself to two travellers, and he found by
their talk that one was covetous and the other envious. On parting he told
them that he came from God, and in return for their kindness he would
grant them a boon: one should choose a gift and the other should have the
double of what his fellow asked. The covetous man desired the other to ask,
and the other, unwilling that his fellow should have more good than he,
desired to be deprived of the sight of one eye, in order that his fellow might
lose both. This was done, and the envious man rejoiced. (291-364.)
This is a thing contrary to nature, to seek one’s own harm in order to
grieve another.
My father, I never did so but in the way that I have said: tell me if there
be more.
383-1871. Detraction. There is one of the brood of Envy called
Detraction. He has Malebouche in his service, who cannot praise any
without finding fault. He is like the beetle which flies over the fields, and
cares nothing for the spring flowers, but makes his feast of such filth as he

may find. So this envious jangler makes no mention of a man’s virtue, but if
he find a fault he will proclaim it openly. So also in Love’s court many
envious tales are told. If thou hast made such janglery, my son, shrive thee
thereof. (383-454.)
Yes, father, but not openly. When I meet my dear lady and think of those
who come about her with false tales, all to deceive an innocent (though she
is wary enough and can well keep herself), my heart is envious and I tell the
worst I know against them; and so I would against the truest and best of
men, if he loved my lady; for I cannot endure that any should win there but
I. This I do only in my lady’s ear, and above all I never tell any tale which
touches her good name. Tell me then what penance I shall endure for this,
for I have told you the whole truth.
My son, do so no more. Thy lady, as thou sayest, is wise and wary, and
there is no need to tell her these tales. Moreover she will like thee the less
for being envious, and often the evil which men plan towards others falls on
themselves. Listen to a tale on this matter. (454-586.)
Tale of Constance. The Roman Emperor Tiberius Constantinus had a
daughter Constance, beautiful, wise, and full of faith. She converted to
Christianity certain merchants of Barbary, who came to Rome to sell their
wares, and they, being questioned by the Soldan when they returned, so
reported of Constance that he resolved to ask for her in marriage. He sent to
Rome and agreed to be converted, and Constance was sent with two
cardinals and many other lords, to be his bride. But the mother of the
Soldan was moved by jealousy. She invited the whole company to a feast,
and there slew her own son and all who had had to do with the marriage
except Constance herself, whom she ordered to be placed alone in a
rudderless ship with victuals for five years, and so to be committed to the
winds and waves. (587-713.)
For three years she drifted under God’s guidance, and at last came to
land in Northumberland, near a castle on the bank of Humber, which was
kept by one Elda for the king of that land Allee, a Saxon and a worthy
knight. Elda found her in the ship and committed her to the care of
Hermyngheld his wife, who loved her and was converted by her.
Hermyngheld in the name of Christ restored sight to a blind man, at which
all wondered, and Elda was converted to the faith. On the morrow he rode

to the king, and thinking to please him, who was then unwedded, told him
of Constance. The king said he would come and see her. Elda sent before
him a knight whom he trusted, and this knight had loved Constance, but she
had rejected him, so that his love was turned to hate. When he came to the
castle he delivered the message, and they prepared to receive the king; but
in the night he cut the throat of Hermyngheld and placed the bloody knife
under the bed where Constance lay. Elda came the same night and found his
wife lying dead and Constance sleeping by her. The false knight accused
Constance and discovered the knife where he had placed it. Elda was not
convinced, and the knight swore to her guilt upon a book. Suddenly the
hand of heaven smote him and his eyes fell out of his head, and a voice
bade him confess the truth, which he did, and thereupon died. (714-885.)
After this the king came, and desiring to wed Constance, agreed to
receive baptism. So a bishop came from Bangor in Wales and christened
him and many more, and married Constance to the king. She would not tell
who she was, but the king perceived that she was a noble creature. God
visited her and she was with child, but the king was compelled to go out on
a war, and left his wife with Elda and the bishop. A son was born and
baptized by the name of Moris, and letters were written to the king, and the
bearer of them, who had to pass by Knaresborough, stayed there to tell the
news to the king’s mother Domilde. She in the night changed the letters for
others, which said, as from the keepers of the queen, that she had been
delivered of a monster. The messenger carried the letters to the king, who
wrote back that they should keep his wife carefully till he came again. On
his return the messenger stayed again at Knaresborough, and Domilde
substituted a letter bidding them on pain of death place Constance and her
child in the same ship in which she had come, and commit them to the sea.
They grieved bitterly, but obeyed. She prayed to heaven for help and
devoted herself to the care of the child (886-1083). After the end of that
year the ship came to land near a castle in Spain, where a heathen admiral
was lord, who had a steward named Theloüs, a false renegade. He came to
see the ship and found Constance, but he let none else see her; and at night
he returned, thinking to have her at his will. He swore to kill her if she
resisted him, and she bade him look out at the port to see if any man was
near: then on the prayer of Constance he was thrown out of the ship and
drowned. A wind arose which took her from the land, and after three years
she came to a place where a great navy lay. The lord of these ships

questioned her, but she told him little, giving her name as Couste. He said
that he came from taking vengeance on the Saracens for their treachery, but
could hear no news of Constance. He was the Senator of Rome and was
married to a niece of the Emperor named Heleine. She came to Rome with
her child and dwelt with his wife till twelve years were gone, and none
knew what she was, but all loved her well. (1084-1225.)
In the meantime king Allee discovered the treachery and took
vengeance on his mother, who was burnt to death after confession of her
guilt; and all said that she had well deserved her punishment and lamented
for Constance. Having finished his wars, the king resolved to go to Rome
for absolution, and leaving Edwyn his heir to rule the land, he set forth with
Elda. Arcennus reported to his wife and to Couste the coming of king Allee,
and Couste swooned for joy. The king, after seeing the Pope and relieving
his conscience, made a feast, to which he invited the Senator and others.
Moris went also, and his mother bade him stand at the feast in sight of the
king. The king seeing him thought him like his wife Constance, and loved
him without knowing why. He asked Arcennus if the child were his son, and
from him he heard his story and the name of his mother. The king smiled at
the name ‘Couste,’ knowing that it was Saxon for Constance, and was eager
to ascertain the truth. After the feast he besought the Senator to bring him
home to see this Couste, and never man was more joyful than he was when
he saw his wife. (1226-1445.)
The king remained at Rome for a time with Constance, but still she did
not tell him who she was. After a while she prayed him to make an
honourable feast before he left the city and to invite the Emperor, who was
at a place a few miles away from the city. Moris was sent to beseech him to
come and eat with them, which request he granted; and at the time
appointed they all went forth to meet the Emperor. Constance, riding
forward to welcome him, made herself known to him as his daughter. His
heart was overcome, as if he had seen the dead come to life again, and all
present shed tears. So a parliament was held and Moris was named heir to
the Emperor. King Allee and Constance returned home to the great joy of
their land; but soon after this the king died, and Constance came again to
Rome. After a short time the Emperor also died in her arms, and she herself
in the next year following. Moris was crowned Emperor and known as ‘the
most Christian.’ (1446-1598.)

Thus love at last prevailed and the false tongues were silenced. Beware
then thou of envious backbiting and lying, and if thou wouldest know
further what mischief is done by backbiting, hear now another tale. (1599-
1612.)
Demetrius and Perseus. Philip king of Macedoine had two sons,
Demetrius and Perseus. Demetrius the elder was the better knight, and he
was heir to the kingdom; but Perseus had envy of him and slandered him to
his father behind his back, saying that he had sold them to the Romans.
Demetrius was condemned on suborned evidence and by a corrupt judge,
and so put to death. Perseus then grew so proud that he disdained his father
and usurped his power, so that the father perceived the wrong which had
been done; but the other party was so strong that he could not execute
justice, and thus he died of grief.
Then Perseus took the government and made war on Rome, gathering a
great host. The Romans had a Consul named Paul Emilius, who took this
war in hand. His little daughter wept when she parted from him, because
her little dog named Perse was dead, and this seemed to him a prognostic of
success, for Perseus had spoken against his brother like a dog barking
behind a man’s back. Perseus rode with his host, not foreseeing the
mischief, and he lost a large part of his army by the breaking of the ice of
the Danube. Paulus attacked him and conquered both him and his land, so
that Perseus himself died like a dog in prison, and his heir, who was exiled
from his land, gained his bread by working at a craft in Rome. (1613-1861.)
Lo, my son, what evil is done by the Envy which endeavours to hinder
another.
I will avoid it, my father; but say on, if there be more.
My son, there is a fourth, as deceptive as the guiles of a juggler, and this
is called False Semblant. (1862-1878.)
1879-2319. False Semblant. This is above all the spring from which
deceit flows. It seems fair weather on that flood; but it is not so in truth.
False Semblant is allied with Hypocrisy, and Envy steers their boat.
Therefore flee this vice and let thy semblant always be true. When Envy
desires to deceive, it is False Semblant who is his messenger; and as the

mirror shows what was never within it, so he shows in his countenance that
which is not in his heart. Dost thou follow this vice, my son?
Nay, father, for ought I know; but question me, I pray you.
Tell me then, my son, if ever thou hast gained the confidence of any
man in order to tell out his secrets and hinder him in his love. Dost thou
practise such devices?
For the most part I say nay; but in some measure I confess I may be
reckoned with those that use false colours. I feign to my fellow at times,
until I know his counsels in love, and if they concern my lady, I endeavour
to overthrow them. If they have to do with others than she, I break no
covenant with him nor try to hinder him in his love; but with regard to her
my ears and my heart are open to hear all that any man will say,—first that I
may excuse her if they speak ill of her, and secondly that I may know who
her lovers are. Then I tell tales of them to my lady, to hinder their suit and
further mine. And though I myself have no help from it, I can conceal
nothing from her which it concerns her to know. To him who loves not my
lady, let him love as many others as he will, I feign no semblant, and his
tales sink no deeper than my ears. Now, father, what is your doom and what
pain must I suffer? (1879-2076.)
My son, all virtue should be praised and all vice blamed: therefore put
no visor on thy face. Yet many men do so nowadays, and especially I hear
how False Semblant goes with those whom we call Lombards, men who are
cunning to feign that which is not, and who take from us the profit of our
own land, while we bear the burdens. They have a craft called Fa crere, and
against this no usher can bar the door. This craft discovers everything and
makes it known in foreign lands to our grievous loss. Those who read in
books the examples of this vice of False Semblant, will be the more on their
guard against it. (2077-2144.)
Hercules and Deianira. I will tell thee a tale of False Semblant, and
how Deianira and Hercules suffered by it. Hercules had cast his heart only
upon this fair Deianira, and once he desired to pass over a river with her,
but he knew not the ford. There was there a giant called Nessus, who
envying Hercules thought to do him harm by treachery, since he dared not
fight against him openly. Therefore, pretending friendship, he offered to
carry the lady across and set her safe on the other shore. Hercules was well

pleased, and Nessus took her upon his shoulder; but when he was on the
further side, he attempted to carry her away with him. Hercules came after
them and shot him with a poisoned arrow, but before he died he gave
Deianira his shirt stained with his heart’s blood, telling her that if her lord
were untrue, this shirt would make his love return to her. She kept it well in
coffer and said no word. The years passed, and Hercules set his heart upon
Eole, the king’s daughter of Eurice, so that he dressed himself in her clothes
and she was clothed in his, and no remedy could be found for his folly.
Deianira knew no other help, but took this shirt and sent it to him. The shirt
set his body on fire, and clove to it so that it could not be torn away. He ran
to the high wood and tore down trees and made a huge fire, into which he
leapt and was burnt both flesh and bones. And all this came of the False
Semblant which Nessus made. Therefore, my son, beware, since so great a
man was thus lost. (2145-2312.)
Father, I will no more have acquaintance with False Semblant, and I
will do penance for my former feigning. Ask more now, if more there be.
My son, there is yet the fifth which is conceived of Envy, and that is
Supplantation, by means of which many have lost their labour in love as in
other things. (2313-2326.)
2327-3110. Supplantation. This vice has often overthrown men and
deprived them of their dignities. Supplantation obtains for himself the profit
of other men’s loss, and raises himself upon their fall. In the same way there
are lovers who supplant others and deprive them of what is theirs by right,
reaping what others have sown. If thou hast done so, my son, confess.
For ought I know, father, I am guiltless in deed, but not so in thought. If
I had had the power, I would long ago have made appropriation of other
men’s love. But this only as regards one, for whom I let all others go. If I
could, I would turn away her heart from her other lovers and supplant them,
no matter by what device: but force I dare not use for fear of scandal. If this
be sin, my father, I am ready to redress my guilt. (2327-2428.)
My son, God beholds a man’s thought, and if thou knewest what it were
to be a supplanter in love, thou wouldest for thine own sake take heed. At
Troy Agamenon supplanted Achilles, and Diomede Troilus. Geta and
Amphitrion too were friends, and Geta was the lover of Almena: but when
he was absent, Amphitrion made his way to her chamber and counterfeited

his voice, whereby he obtained admittance to her bed. Geta came
afterwards, but she refused to let him in, thinking that her lover already lay
in her arms. (2429-2500.)
The False Bachelor. There was an Emperor of Rome who ruled in peace
and had no wars. His son was chivalrous and desirous of fame, so he
besought leave to go forth and seek adventures, but his father refused to
grant it. At length he stole away with a knight whom he trusted, and they
took service with the Soldan of Persia, who had war with the Caliph of
Egypt. There this prince did valiantly and gained renown; moreover, he was
overtaken by love of the Soldan’s fair daughter, so that his prowess grew
more and more, and none could stand against him. At length the Soldan and
the Caliph drew to a battle, and the Soldan took a gold ring of his daughter
and commanded her, if he should fall in the fight, to marry the man who
should produce this ring. In the battle this Roman did great deeds, and
Egypt fled in his presence. As they of Persia pursued, an arrow struck the
Soldan and he was borne wounded to a tent. Dying he gave his daughter’s
ring to this knight of Rome. After his burial a parliament was appointed,
and on the night before it met, this young lord told his secret to his bachelor
and showed him the ring. The bachelor feigned gladness, but when his lord
was asleep, he stole the ring from his purse and put another in its stead.
When the court was set, the young lady was brought forth. The bachelor
drew forth the ring and claimed her hand, which was allowed him in spite
of protest, and so he was crowned ruler of the empire. His lord fell sick of
sorrow, caring only for the loss of his love; and before his death he called
the lords to him and sent a message to his lady, and wrote also a letter to his
father the Emperor. Thus he died, and the treason was known. The false
bachelor was sent to Rome on demand of the Emperor, to receive
punishment there, and the dead body also was taken thither for burial.
(2501-2781.)
Thus thou mayest be well advised, my son, not to do so; and above all
when Pride and Envy are joined together, no man can find a remedy for the
evil. Of this I find a true example in a chronicle of old time, showing how
Supplant worked once in Holy Church. I know not if it be so now. (2782-
2802.)
Pope Boniface. At Rome Pope Nicholas died, and the cardinals met in
conclave to choose another Pope. They agreed upon a holy recluse full of

ghostly virtues, and he was made Pope and called Celestin. There was a
cardinal, however, who had long desired the papacy, and he was seized with
such envy that he thought to supplant the Pope by artifice. He caused a
young priest of his family to be appointed to the Pope’s chamber, and he
told this man to take a trumpet of brass and by means of it speak to the Pope
at midnight through the wall, bidding him renounce his dignity. This he did
thrice; and the Pope, conceiving it to be a voice from heaven, asked the
cardinals in consistory whether a Pope might resign his place. All sat silent
except this cardinal of whom we have spoken, and he gave his opinion that
the Pope could make a decree by which this might be done. He did so, and
the cardinal was elected in his stead under the name of Boniface. But such
treason cannot be hid; it is like the spark of fire in the roof, which when
blown by the wind blazes forth. Boniface openly boasted of his device; and
such was his pride that he took quarrel with Louis, King of France, and laid
his kingdom under interdict. The king was counselled by his barons, and he
sent Sir William de Langharet, with a company of men-at-arms, who
captured the Pope at Pontsorge near Avignon and took him into France,
where he was put in bonds and died of hunger, eating off both his hands. Of
him it was said that he came in like a fox, reigned like a lion, and died like a
dog. By his example let all men beware of gaining office in the Church by
wrongful means. God forbid that it should be of our days that the Abbot
Joachim spake, when he prophesied of the shameful traffic which should
dishonour the Church of God. (2803-3084.)
Envy it was that moved Joab to slay Abner treacherously; and for Envy
Achitophel hanged himself when his counsel was not preferred. Seneca says
that Envy is the common wench who keeps tavern for the Court, and sells
liquour which makes men drunk with desire to surpass their fellows. (3085-
3110.)
Envy is in all ways unpleasant in love; the fire within dries up the blood
which should flow kindly through his veins. He alone is moved by pure
malice in that which he does. Therefore, my son, if thou wouldest find a
way to love, put away Envy.
Reason would that I do so, father; but in order that I may flee from this
vice, I pray you to tell me a remedy.

My son, as there is physic for the sick, so there are virtues for the vices,
which quench them as water does a fire. Against Envy is set Charity, the
mother of Pity, which causes a man to be willing to bear evil himself rather
than that another should suffer. Hear from me a tale about this, and mark it
well. (3111-3186.)
Constantine and Silvester. In Latin books I find how Constantine, the
Emperor of Rome, had a leprosy which could not be cured, and wise men
ordered for his healing a bath of the blood of children under seven years
old. Orders were sent forth, and mothers brought their children from all
parts to the palace. The Emperor, hearing the noise of lamentation, looked
forth in the morning and was struck with pity. He thought to himself that
rich and poor were all alike in God’s sight, and that a man should do to
others as he would that others should do to him. He resolved rather to suffer
his malady than that so much innocent blood should be shed, and he sent
the mothers and children away happy to their homes. In the night he had a
vision of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, saying to him, that as he had shown
mercy, mercy should be shown to him, and bidding him send to fetch
Silvester from Mount Celion, where he was hiding for fear of the Emperor,
who had been a foe to Christ’s faith. They told him their names and
departed, and he did as they commanded. Silvester came and preached to
the Emperor of the redemption of mankind and the last judgement, and said
that God had accepted the charity and pity which he had shown.
Constantine received baptism in the same vessel which had been prepared
for the blood; and as he was being baptized, a light from heaven shone in
the place and the leprosy fell from him as it were fishes’ scales. Thus body
and soul both were cleansed. The Emperor sent forth letters bidding all
receive baptism on pain of death, and founded two churches in Rome for
Peter and Paul, to which he gave great worldly possessions. His will was
good, but the working of his deed was bad. As he made the gift, a voice was
heard from heaven saying that the poison of temporal things was this day
mingled with the spiritual. All may see the evil now, and may God amend it.
(3187-3496.)
I have said, my son, how Charity may help a man in both worlds;
therefore, if thou wouldest avoid Envy, acquaint thyself with Charity, which
is the sovereign virtue.

My father, I shall ever eschew Envy the more for this tale which ye have
told, and I pray you to give me my penance for that which I have done
amiss, and to ask me further.
I will tell thee, my son, of the vice which stands next after this. (3497-
3530.)

Lib. III.
There is a vice which is the enemy to Patience and doth no pleasure to
nature. This is one of the fatal Seven and is called Ire, which in English is
Wrath.
25-416. He has five servants to help him, of whom the first is
Melancholy, which lours like an angry beast and none knows the reason
why. Hast thou been so, my son?
Yea, father, I may not excuse myself therof, and love is the cause of it.
My heart is ever hot and I burn with wrath, angered with myself because I
cannot speed. Waking I dream that I meet with my lady and pray her for an
answer to my suit, and she, who will not gladly swear, saith me nay without
an oath, wherewith I am so distempered that I almost lose my wits; and
when I think how long I have served and how I am refused, I am angry for
the smallest thing, and every servant in my house is afraid of me until the fit
passes. If I approach my lady and she speaks a fair word to me, all my
anger is gone; but if she will not look upon me, I return again to my former
state. Thus I hurt my hand against the prick and make a whip for my own
self; and all this springs from Melancholy. I pray you, my father, teach me
some example whereby I may appease myself.
My son, I will fulfil thy prayer. (25-142.)
Canace and Machaire. There was a king called Eolus, and he had two
children, a son Machaire and a daughter Canace. These two grew up
together in one chamber, and love made them blind, so that they followed
only the law of nature and saw not that of reason. As the bird which sees the
food but not the net, so they saw not the peril. At length Canace was with
child and her brother fled. The child was born and the truth could not be
hid. The father came into her chamber in a frenzy of wrath, and she in vain
entreated for mercy. He sent a knight to her with a sword, that she might

slay herself; but first she wrote a letter to her brother, while her child lay
weeping in her breast. Then she set the pommel of the sword to ground and
pierced her heart with the point. The king bade them take the child and cast
it out for wild beasts to devour. Little did he know of love who wrought
such a cruel deed. (143-336.)
Therefore, my son, have regard to love, and remember that no man’s
might can resist what Nature has ordained. Otherwise vengeance may fall,
as in a tale that I will tell. (337-360.)
Tiresias saw two snakes coupled together and smote them with his staff.
Thereupon, as he had disturbed nature, so he was transformed against
nature into a woman. (361-380.)
Thus wrote Ovid, and thus we see that we ought not to be wroth against
the law of nature in men. There may be vice in love, but there is no malice.
My father, all this is true. Let every man love whom he will; I shall not
be wroth, if it be not my lady. I am angry only with myself, because I can
find no remedy for my evils. (381-416.)
417-842. Cheste. The second kind of Wrath is Cheste, which has his
mouth ever unlocked and utters evil sayings of every one. Men are more
afraid of him than of thunder and exclaim against his evil tongue. Tell me,
my son, if thou hast ever chid toward thy love.
Nay, father, never: I call my lady herself to witness. I never dared speak
to her any but good words. I may have said at times more than I ought, the
best plowman balks sometimes, and I have often spoken contrary to her
command; but she knows well that I do not chide. Men may pray to God,
and he will not be wroth; and my lady, being but a woman, ought not to be
angry if I tell her of my griefs. Often indeed I chide with myself, because I
have not said that which I ought, but this avails me nothing. Now ye have
heard all, therefore give me absolution.
My son, if thou knewest all the evils of Cheste in love, thou wouldest
learn to avoid it. Fair speech is most accordant to love; therefore keep thy
tongue carefully and practise Patience.
My father, tell me some example of this. (417-638.)

Patience of Socrates. A man should endure as Socrates did, who to try
his own patience married a scolding wife. She came in on a winter day from
the well and saw her husband reading by the fire. Not being able to draw an
answer to her reproaches, she emptied the water-pot over his head: but he
said only that rain in the course of nature followed wind, and drew nearer to
the fire to dry his clothes. (639-698.)
I know not if this be reasonable, but such a man ought truly to be called
patient by judgement of Love’s Court.
Here again is a tale by which thou mayest learn to restrain thy tongue.
(699-730.)
Jupiter, Juno and Tiresias. Jupiter and Juno fell out upon the question
whether man or wife is the more ardent in love, and they made Tiresias
judge. He speaking unadvisedly gave judgement against Juno, who
deprived him of his sight. Jupiter in compensation gave him the gift of
prophecy, but he would rather have had the sight of his eyes. Therefore
beware, and keep thy tongue close. (731-782.)
Phebus and Cornide. Phebus loved Cornide, but a young knight visited
her in her chamber. This was told to Phebus by a bird which she kept, and
he in anger slew Cornide. Then he repented, and as a punishment he
changed the bird’s feathers from white to black. (783-817.)
Jupiter and Laar. The nymph Laar told tales of Jupiter to Juno, and he
cut off her tongue and sent her down to hell. There are many such now in
Love’s Court, who let their tongues go loose. Be not thou one of these, my
son, and above all avoid Cheste.
My father, I will do so: but now tell me more of Wrath. (818-842.)
843-1088. Hate is the next, own brother to Cheste. Art thou guilty of
this?
I know not as yet what it is, except ye teach me.
Listen then: Hate is a secret Wrath, gathering slowly and dwelling in the
heart, till he see time to break forth.
Father, I will not swear that I have been guiltless of this; for though I
never hated my lady, I have hated her words. Moreover I hate those envious
janglers who hinder me with their lies, and I pray that they may find

themselves in the same condition as I am. Then I would stand in their way,
as they stand in mine, and they would know how grievous a thing it is to be
hindered in love.
My son, I cannot be content that thou shouldest hate any man, even
though he have hindered thee. But I counsel thee to beware of other men’s
hate, for it is often disguised under a fair appearance, as the Greeks found to
their cost. (843-972.)
King Namplus and the Greeks. After the fall of Troy the Greeks,
voyaging home, were overtaken by a storm and knew not how to save their
ships. Now there was a king, Namplus, who hated the Greeks because of his
son Palamades, whom they had done to death, and he lighted fires to lure
their ships towards his rocky coast. They supposed that the fires were
beacons to guide them into haven, and many of their ships ran on the rocks.
The rest, warned by the cry of those that perished, put forth again to sea.
By this, my son, thou mayest know how Fraud joins with Hate to
overthrow men. (973-1088.)
1089-2621. Contek and Homicide. Two more remain, namely Contek,
who has Foolhaste for his chamberlain, and Homicide. These always in
their wrath desire to shed blood, and they will not hear of pity. Art thou
guilty of this, my son?
Nay, my father, Christ forbid. Yet as regards love, about which is our
shrift, I confess that I have Contek in my heart, Wit and Reason opposing
Will and Hope. Reason says that I ought to cease from my love, but Will
encourages me in it, and he it is who rules me.
Thou dost wrong, my son, for Will should ever be ruled by Reason,
whereof I find a tale written. (1089-1200.)
Diogenes and Alexander. There was a philosopher named Diogenes,
who in his old age devised a tun, in which he sat and observed the heavens.
King Alexander rode by with his company and sent a knight to find out
what this might be. The knight questioned Diogenes, but he could get no
answer. ‘It is thy king who asks,’ said the knight in anger. ‘No, not my
king,’ said the philosopher. ‘What then, is he thy man?’ ‘Nay, but rather my
man’s man.’ The knight told the king, who rode himself to see. ‘Father,’ he
said,’tell me how I am thy man’s man.’ Diogenes replied, ‘Because I have

always kept Will in subjection to me, but with thee Will is master and
causes thee to sin.’ The king offered to give him whatsoever he should ask.
He replied, ‘Stand thou out of my sunshine: I need no other gift from thee.’
From this thou mayest learn, my son; for thou hast said that thy will is
thy master, and hence thou hast Contek in thine heart, and this, since love is
blind, may even breed Homicide. (1201-1330.)
Pyramus and Thisbe. In the city of Semiramis there dwelt two lords in
neighbouring houses, and the one had a son named Piramus, and the other a
daughter, Tisbee. These loved each other, and when two are of one accord
in love, no man can hinder their purpose. They made a hole in the wall
between them and conversed through this, till at length they planned to
meet near a spring without the town. The maiden was there first; but a lion
came to drink at the spring with snout all bloody from a slain beast, and she
fled away, leaving her wimple on the ground. This the lion tore and stained
with blood, while she lay hid in a bush, not daring to move. Piramus came
soon and supposed she had been slain. Reproaching himself as the cause of
her death, he slew himself with his sword in his foolhaste. Tisbee came then
and found him dead, and she called upon the god and goddess of love, who
had so cruelly served those who were obedient to their law. At last her
sorrow overcame her, so that she knew not what she did. She set the
sword’s point to her heart and fell upon it, and thus both were found lying.
(1331-1494.)
Beware by this tale that thou bring not evil on thyself by foolhaste.
My father, I will not hide from you that I have often wished to die,
though I have not been guilty of the deed. But I know by whose counsel it is
that my lady rejects me, and him I would slay if I had him in my power.
Who is this mortal enemy, my son?
His name is Danger, and he may well be called ‘sanz pite.’ It is he who
hinders me in all things and will not let my lady receive my suit. He is ever
with her and gives an evil answer to all my prayers. Thus I hate him and
desire that he should be slain. But as to my lady, I muse at times whether
she will be acquitted of homicide, if I die for her love, when with one word
she might have saved me.

My son, refrain thine heart from Wrath, for Wrath causes a man to fail
of love. Men must go slowly on rough roads and consider before they
climb: ‘rape reweth,’ as the proverb says, and it is better to cast water on the
fire than burn up the house. Be patient, my son: the mouse cannot fight with
the cat, and whoso makes war on love will have the worse. Love demands
peace, and he who fights most will conquer least. Hasten not to thy sorrow:
he has not lost who waits.
Thou mayest take example by Piramus, who slew himself so foolishly.
Do nothing in such haste, for suffrance is the well of peace. Hasten not the
Court of Love, in which thou hast thy suit. Foolhaste often sets a man
behind, and of this I have an example. (1495-1684.)
Phebus and Daphne. Phebus laid his love on Daphne and followed his
suit with foolish haste. She ever said him nay, and at length Cupid, seeing
the haste of Phebus, said that he should hasten more and yet not speed. He
pierced his heart therefore with a golden dart of fire, and that of Daphne
with a dart of lead. Thus the more Phebus pursued, the more she fled away,
and at length she was changed into a laurel tree, which is ever green, in
token that she remained ever a maid. Thus thou mayest understand that it is
vain to hasten love, when fortune is against it.
Thanks, father, for this: but so long as I see that my lady is no tree, I
will serve her, however fortune may turn.
I say no more, my son, but think how it was with Phebus and beware. A
man should take good counsel always, for counsel puts foolhaste away.
Tell me an example, I pray you. (1685-1756.)
Athemas and Demephon. When Troy was taken and the Greeks returned
home, many kings found their people unwilling to receive them. Among
these were Athemas and Demephon, who gathered a host to avenge
themselves and said they would spare neither man, woman, nor child.
Nestor however, who was old and wise, asked them to what purpose they
would reign as kings, if their people should be destroyed, and bade them
rather win by fair speech than by threats. Thus the war was turned to peace:
for the nations, seeing the power which the kings had gathered, sent and
entreated them to lay aside their wrath. (1757-1856.)

By this example refrain thine heart, my son, and do nothing by violence
which may be done by love. As touching Homicide, it often happens
unadvisedly through Will, when Reason is away, and great vengeance has
sometimes followed. Whereof I shall tell a tale which it is pity to hear.
(1857-1884.)
Orestes. Agamenon, having returned from Troy, was slain by his wife
Climestre and her lover Egistus. Horestes, his infant son, was saved and
delivered into the keeping of the king of Crete. When he grew up, he
resolved to avenge his father, and coming to Athens gathered a power there
with the help of the duke. When he offered sacrifice in a temple for his
success, the god gave him command to slay his mother, tearing away her
breasts with his own hands and giving her body to be devoured. He rode to
Micene and took the city by siege: then he sent for his mother and did as the
oracle had commanded. Egistus, coming to the rescue of Micene, was
caught in an ambush and hanged as a traitor.
Fame spread these deeds abroad, and many blamed Horestes for slaying
his mother. The lords met at Athens and sent for him to come and answer
for his deed. He told how the gods had laid a charge upon him to execute
judgement, as he had done, and Menesteus, a duke and worthy knight,
spoke for him and championed his cause. They concluded upon this that
since she had committed so foul an adultery and murder, she had deserved
the punishment, and Horestes was crowned king of Micene. Egiona,
daughter of Egistus and Climestre, who had consented to the murder of
Agamenon, hanged herself for sorrow that her brother had been acquitted.
Such is the vengeance for murder. (1885-2195.)
My father, I pray you tell me if it is possible without sin to slay a man.
Yea, my son, in sundry wise. The judge commits sin if he spares to slay
those who deserve death by the law. Moreover a man may defend his house
and his land in war, and slay if no better may be.
I beseech you, father, to tell me whether those that seek war in a worldly
cause, and shed blood, do well. (2196-2250.)
War. God has forbidden homicide, and when God’s Son was born, his
angels proclaimed peace to the men of good will. Therefore by the law of
charity there should be no war, and nature also commends peace. War

consorts with pestilence and famine and brings every kind of evil upon the
earth. I know not what reward he deserves who brings in such things; and if
he do it to gain heaven’s grace, he shall surely fail. Since wars are so evil in
God’s sight, it is a marvel what ails men that they cannot establish peace.
Sin, I trow, is the cause, and the wages of sin is death. Covetousness first
brought in war, and among the Greeks Arcadia alone was free from war,
because it was barren and poor. Yet it is a wonder that a worthy king or lord
will claim that to which he has no right. Nature and law both are against it,
but Wit is here oppressed by Will, and some cause is feigned to deceive the
world. Thou mayest take an example of this, how men excuse their wrong-
doing, and how the poor and the rich are alike in the lust for gain. (2251-
2362.)
Alexander and the Pirate. A sea-rover was brought before Alexander
and accused of his misdeeds. He replied, ‘I have a heart like thine, and if I
had the power, I would do as thou dost. But since I am the leader of a few
men only, I am called a thief, while thou with thy great armies art called an
Emperor. Rich and poor are not weighed evenly in the balance.’ The king
approved his boldness and retained him in his service. (2363-2417.)
Thus they who are set on destruction are all of one accord, captain and
company alike. When reason is put aside, man follows rapine like a bird of
prey, and all the world may not suffice for his desires. Alexander overran
the whole earth and died miserably, when he thought himself most secure.
Lo, what profit it is to slay men for covetousness, as if they were beasts.
Beware, my son, of slaying. (2418-2484.)
Is it lawful, my father, to pass over the sea to war against the Saracen?
My son, Christ bade men preach and suffer for the faith. He made all
men free by his own death, and his apostles after him preached and suffered
death: but if they had wished to spread the faith by the sword, it would
never have prevailed. We see that since the time when the Church took the
sword in hand, a great part of that which was won has been lost to Christ’s
faith. Be well advised then always ere thou slay. Homicide stands now even
in the Church itself; and when the well of pity is thus defouled with blood,
others do not hesitate to make war and to slay. We see murder now upon the
earth as in the days when men bought and sold sins.

In Greece before Christ’s faith men were dispensed of the guilt of
murder by paying gold: so it was with Peleus, Medea, Almeus, and so it is
still. But after this life it shall be known how it fares with those who do
such things. Beasts do not prey upon their own kind, and it is not reasonable
that man should be worse than a beast.
Solinus tells a tale of a bird with man’s face, which dies of sorrow when
it has slain a man. By this example men should eschew homicide and
follow mercy. (2485-2621.)
I have heard examples of this virtue of Mercy among those who
followed the wars. Remember, my son, that this virtue brings grace, and
that they who are most mighty to hurt should be the most ready to relieve.
(2622-2638.)
Telaphus and Theucer. Achilles and his son Telaphus made war on
Theucer, king of Mese. Achilles was about to slay the king in the battle, but
Telaphus interceded for him, saying that Theucer once did him good
service. Thus the king’s life was spared but the Greeks won the victory.
Theucer, grateful for this and for other service before rendered by Achilles,
made Telaphus heir to all his land, and thus was mercy rewarded. (2639-
2717.)
Take pity therefore, my son, of other men’s suffering, and let nothing be
a pleasure to thee which is grief to another. Stand against Ire by the counsel
of Patience and take Mercy to be the governor of thy conscience: so shalt
thou put away all homicide and hate, and so shalt thou the sooner have thy
will of love.
Father, I will do your hests; and now give me my penance for Wrath,
and ask further of my life.
My son, I will do so. Art thou then guilty of Sloth?
My father, I would know first the points which belong to it.
Hearken then, and I will set them forth: and bear well in mind that shrift
is of no value to him that will not endeavour to leave his vice. (2718-2774.)

Lib. IV.

1-312. Lachesce is the first point of Sloth, and his nature is to put off
till to-morrow what he ought to do to-day. Hast thou done so in love?
Yes, my father, I confess I am guilty. When I have set a time to speak to
that sweet maid, Lachesce has often told me that another time is better, or
has bidden me write instead of speaking by mouth. Thus I have let the time
slide for Sloth, until it was too late. But my love is always the same, and
though my tongue be slow to ask, my heart is ever entreating favour. I pray
you tell me some tale to teach me how to put away Lachesce. (1-76.)
Eneas and Dido. When Eneas came with his navy to Carthage, he won
the love of the queen Dido, who laid all her heart on him. Thence he went
away toward Ytaile; and she, unable to endure the pain of love, wrote him a
letter saying that if he came not again, it would be with her as with the swan
that lost her mate, she should die for his sake. But he, being slothful in love,
tarried still away, and she bitterly complaining of his delay, thrust a sword
through her heart and thus got rest for herself. (77-146.)
Ulysses and Penelope. Again, when Ulixes stayed away so long at Troy,
his true wife Penolope wrote him a letter complaining of his Lachesce. So
he set himself to return home with all speed as soon as Troy was taken.
(147-233.)
Grossteste. The great clerk Grossteste laboured for seven years to make
a speaking head of brass, and then by one half-minute of Lachesce he lost
all his labour. (234-243.)
It fares so sometimes with the lover who does not keep his time. Let
him think of the five maidens whose lamps were not lit when the
bridegroom came forth, and how they were shut out.
My father, I never had any time or place appointed me to get any grace:
otherwise I would have kept my hour. But she will not alight on any lure
that I may cast, and the louder I cry, the less she hears.
Go on so, my son, and let no Lachesce be found in thee. (244-312.)
313-538. Pusillanimity means in our language the lack of heart to
undertake man’s work. This vice is ever afraid when there is no cause of
dread. So as regards love there are truants that dare not speak, who are like
bells without clappers and do not ask anything.

I am one of those, my father, in the presence of my lady.
Do no more so, my son, for fortune comes to him who makes
continuance in his prayers. (313-370.)
Pygmaleon. There was one named Pymaleon, a sculptor of great skill,
who made an image of a woman in ivory, fairer than any living creature. On
this he set his love and prayed her ever for a return, as though she
understood what he said. At length Venus had pity on him and transformed
the image into a woman of flesh and blood. Thus he won his wife; but if he
had not spoken, he would have failed. By this example thou mayest learn
that word may work above nature, and that the god of love is favourable to
those who are steadfast in love. About which also I read a strange tale.
(371-450.)
Iphis. King Ligdus told his wife that if her child about to be born should
be a daughter, it must be put to death. A daughter was born, whom Isis the
goddess of childbirth bade bring up as a boy. So they named him Iphis, and
when he was ten years old he was betrothed to Iante. Cupid took pity on
them at last for the love that they had to one another, and changed Iphis into
a man. (451-505.)
Thus love has goodwill towards those who pursue steadfastly that which
to love is due.
My father, I have not failed for lack of prayer, except so far as I said
above. I beseech Love day and night to work his miracle for me. (506-538.)
539-886. Forgetfulness. There is yet another who serves Accidie, and
that is Foryetelness. He forgets always more than the half of that which he
has to say to his love.
So it has often been with me, father: I am so sore afraid in her presence
that I am as one who has seen a ghost, and I cannot get my wits for fear, but
stand, as it were, dumb and deaf. Then afterwards I lament and ask myself
why I was afraid, for there is no more violence in her than in a child of
three years old. Thus I complain to myself of my forgetfulness; but I never
forget the thought of her, nor should do, though I had the Ring of Oblivion,
which Moses made for Tharbis. She is near my heart always, and when I am
with her, I am so ravished with the sight of her, that I forget all the words

that I ought to speak. Thus it is with me as regards forgetfulness and lack of
heart.
My son, love will not send his grace unless we ask it. God knows a
man’s thought and yet he wills that we should pray. Therefore pull up a
busy heart and let no chance escape thee; and as touching Foryetelness I
find a tale written. (539-730.)
Demophon and Phyllis. King Demephon, as he sailed to Troy, came to
Rhodopeie, of which land Phillis was queen. He plighted his troth to her,
and she granted him all that he would have. Then came the time that he
should sail on to Troy, but he vowed to return to her within a month. The
month passed and he forgot his time. She sent him a letter, setting him a
day, and saying that if he came not, his sloth would cause her death. She
watched and waited, putting up a lantern in a tower by night, but he did not
return. Then when the day came and no sail appeared, she ran down from
the tower to an arbour where she was alone, and hanged herself upon a
bough with a girdle of silk. The gods shaped her into a tree, which men
called after her Philliberd, and this name it has still to the shame of
Demephon, who repented, but all too late. Thus none can guess the evil that
comes through Foryetelness. (731-886.)
887-1082. Negligence is he who will not be wise beforehand, and
afterwards exclaims, ‘Would God I had known!’ He makes the stable-door
fast after the steed is stolen. If thou art so in love, thou wilt not achieve
success.
My father, I may with good conscience excuse myself of this. I labour to
learn love’s craft, but I cannot find any security therein. My will is not at
fault, for I am busy night and day to find out how love may be won.
I am glad, my son, that thou canst acquit thyself of this, for there is no
science and no virtue that may not be lost by Negligence. (887-978.)
Phaeton. Phebus had a son named Pheton, who, conspiring with his
mother Clemenee, got leave to drive the chariot of the Sun. Phebus advised
him how he should do, and that he should drive neither too low nor too
high. But he through Negligence let the horses draw the car where they
would, and at last the world was set on fire. Phebus then caused him to fall
from the car, and he was drowned in a river. (979-1034.)

Icarus. As in high estate it is a vice to go too low, so in low estate it
does harm to go too high. Dedalus had a son named Icharus, and they were
in prison with Minotaurus and could not escape. This Dedalus then
fashioned wings for himself and his son, and he warned his son not to fly
too high, lest the wax with which his wings were set on should melt with
the sun. Icharus neglected his father’s warning and fell to his destruction:
and so do some others. (1035-1082.)
1083-2700. Idleness is another of the brood of Sloth and is the nurse of
every vice. In summer he will not work for the heat and in winter for the
cold. He will take no travail for his lady’s sake, but is as a cat that would eat
fish and yet not wet his claws. Art thou of such a mould? Tell me plainly.
Nay, father, towards love I was never idle.
What hast thou done then, my son?
In every place where my lady is, I have been ready to serve her, whether
in chamber or in hall. When she goes to mass, I lead her up to the offering;
when she works at her weaving or embroidery, I stand by, and sometimes I
tell tales or sing. When she will not stay with me, but busies herself
elsewhere, I play with the dog or the birds and talk to the page or the
waiting-maid, to make an excuse for my lingering. If she will ride, I lift her
into the saddle and go by her side, and at other times I ride by her carriage
and speak with her, or sing. Tell me then if I have any guilt of Idleness.
Thou shalt have no penance here, my son; but nevertheless there are
many who will not trouble themselves to know what love is, until he
overcome them by force. Thus a king’s daughter once was idle, until the
god of love chastised her, as thou shalt hear. (1083-1244.)
Rosiphelee, daughter of Herupus, king of Armenie, was wise and fair,
but she had one great fault of sloth, desiring neither marriage nor the love of
paramours. Therefore Venus and Cupid made a rod for her chastising, so
that her mood at length was changed. She walked forth once in the month of
May, and staying alone under the trees near a lawn, she heard the birds sing
and saw the hart and the hind go together, and a debate arose within her as
to love. Then casting her eyes about, she saw a company of ladies riding
upon white horses. They had saddles richly adorned and were clothed in the
fairest copes and kirtles, all alike of white and blue. Their beauty was

beyond that of earthly things, and they wore crowns upon their heads such
that all the gold of Cresus could not have purchased the least of them.
The king’s daughter drew back abashed and hid herself to let them pass,
not daring to ask who they were. Then after them she saw a woman on a
black horse, lean, galled and limping, yet with a richly jewelled bridle. The
woman, though fair and young, had her clothing torn and many score of
halters hanging about her middle. The princess came forth and asked her
what this company might be, and she said these were they who had been
true servants to love, but she herself had been slow and unwilling; and
therefore each year in the month of May she must needs ride in this manner
and bear halters for the rest. Her jewelled bridle was granted her because at
last she had yielded to love, but death came upon her too suddenly. ‘I
commend you to God, lady,’ she said, ‘and bid you warn all others for my
sake not to be idle in love, but to think upon my bridle.’ Thus she passed out
of sight like a cloud, and the lady was moved with fear and amended her
ways, swearing within her heart that she would bear no halters. (1245-
1446.)
Understand then, my son, that as this lady was chastised, so should
those knights take heed who are idle towards love, lest they deserve even a
greater punishment. Maidens too must follow the law of love and not waste
that time during which they might be bearing the charge of children for the
service of the world. And about this I think to tell them a tale. (1447-1504.)
Jephthah’s daughter. Among the Jews there was a duke named Jepte,
who going to war against Amon, made a vow that if victory were granted to
him, he would sacrifice to God the first who should meet him on his return.
He overcame his foes and returning met his daughter, who came forth to
welcome him with songs and dances. When she saw his sorrow and heard
the vow that he had made, she bade him keep his covenant, and asked only
for a respite of forty days to bewail her maidenhead, in that she had brought
forth no children for the increase of her people. So with other maidens she
went weeping over the downs and the dales, and mourned for the lost time
which she never could now redeem. (1505-1595.)
Father, ye have done well to rebuke maidens for this vice of Sloth: but
as to the travail which ye say men ought to take for love, what mean ye by
this?

I was thinking, my son, of the deeds of arms that men did in former
times for love’s sake. He who seeks grace in love must not spare his travail.
He must ride sometimes in Pruce and sometimes in Tartary, so that the
heralds may cry after him, ‘Valiant, Valiant!’ and his fame may come to his
lady’s ear. This is the thing I mean. Confess, if thou hast been idle in this.
(1596-1647.)
Yea, my father, and ever was. I know not what good may come of
slaying the heathen, and I should have little gain from passing over the sea,
if in the meantime I lost my lady at home. Let them pass the sea whom
Christ commanded to preach his faith to all the world; but now they sit at
ease and bid us slay those whom they should convert. If I slay a Saracen, I
slay body and soul both, and that was never Christ’s lore.
As for me, I will serve love, and go or stay as love bids me. I have heard
that Achilles left his arms at Troy for love of Polixenen, and so may I do:
but if my lady bade me labour for her, I would pass through sky or sea at
her command. Nevertheless I see that those who labour most for love, win
often the least reward, and though I have never been idle in deed, yet the
effect is always idleness, for my business avails me nothing. Therefore idle
I will call myself.
My son, be patient. Thou knowest not what chance may fall. It is better
to wait on the tide than to row against the stream. Perchance the revolution
of the heavens is not yet in accord with thy condition. I can bear witness to
Venus that thou hast not been idle in love; but since thou art slow to travail
in arms and makest an argument of Achilles, I will tell thee a tale to the
contrary. (1648-1814.)
Nauplus and Ulysses. King Nauplus, father of Palamades, came to
persuade Ulixes to go with the Greeks to Troy. He, however, desired to stay
at home with his wife, and feigning madness he yoked foxes to his plough
and sowed the land with salt. Nauplus saw the cause and laid the infant son
of Ulixes before his plough. The father turned the plough aside, and
Nauplus rebuked him for thus unworthily forsaking the honour of arms and
for setting love before knighthood. He repented of his folly and went forth
with them to Troy. (1815-1891.)
Thus a knight must prefer honour to worldly ease and put away all
dread, as did Prothesilai, whose wife wrote to him that he should lose his

life if he landed at Troy; and he took no heed of her womanish fears, but
was the first to land, choosing rather to die with honour than to live
reproved. (1892-1934.)
Saul too, when the spirit of Samuel told him that he should be slain in
battle, would not draw back from the danger, but with Jonathas his son he
met his enemies on the mountains of Gelboe, and won eternal fame. (1935-
1962.)
Education of Achilles. Prowess is founded upon hardihood, and we
know how Achilles was brought up to this by Chiro, called Centaurus. He
was taught not to make his chase after the beasts that fled from him, but to
fight with such as would withstand him. Moreover a covenant was set that
every day he should slay, or at least wound, some savage beast, as a lion or
a tiger, and bring home with him a token of blood upon his weapon. Thus
he came to surpass all other knights. (1963-2013.)
Other examples there are, as of Lancelot and many more, which show
how Prowess in arms has led to success in love. Let this tale be witness of
it. (2014-2044.)
Hercules and Achelons. King Oënes of Calidoyne had a daughter
Deianire, who was promised in marriage to Achelons, a giant and a
magician. Hercules, that worthy knight who set up the two pillars of brass
in the desert of India, sought her love, and the king dared not refuse him. It
was ordained then that combat should decide between them. Achelons,
stirred up to prowess by love, fought boldly, but Hercules seized him with
irresistible strength. Then Achelons tried his craft, changing himself into a
snake first and then a bull. Hercules, however, held him by the horns and
forced him down, till at length he was overcome. Thus Hercules won his
wife by prowess. (2045-2134.)
So Pantasilee, queen of Feminee, for love of Hector did deeds of
prowess at Troy; and Philemenis, because he brought home the body of
Pantasilee and saved some of her maidens, had a tribute granted to him of
three maidens yearly from the land of Amazoine. Eneas also won Lavine in
battle against king Turnus. By these examples thou mayest see how love’s
grace may be gained, for worthy women love manhood and gentilesse.
(2135-2199.)

What is Gentilesse, my father?
Some set that name upon riches coming down from old time, but there
is no true merit in riches; and as for lineage, all are descended from Adam
and Eve. Rich and poor are alike in their birth and in their death; the true
gentilesse depends upon virtue, and for virtue love may profit much.
Especially love is opposed to Sloth, and Sloth is most of all contrary to the
nature of man, for by it all knowledge is lost. (2200-2362.)
By Labour it was that all useful arts were found out, and the names of
many inventors have been handed down by fame, as Cham, Cadmus,
Theges, Termegis, Josephus, Heredot, Jubal, Zenzis, Promotheus, Tubal,
Jadahel, Verconius, and among women Minerve and Delbora. Saturnus
found out agriculture and trade, and he first coined money. (2363-2450.)
Many philosophers have contrived the getting and refining of metals
and the science of Alconomie, by which gold and silver are multiplied, with
the working of the seven bodies and the four spirits for the finding of the
perfect Elixir.
The philosophers of old made three Stones: the Vegetable, by which life
and health are preserved, the Animal, by which the five senses are helped in
their working, and the Mineral, by which metals are transformed. This
science is a true one, but men know not how to follow it rightly, so that it
brings in only poverty and debt. They who first founded it have great
names, as Hermes, Geber, Ortolan and others. (2451-2632.)
With regard to Language, Carmente was the first who invented the
Latin letters, and then came those who laid down the rules of rhetoric, as
Aristarchus, Dindimus, Tullius and Cithero. Jerome translated the Bible
from Hebrew, and others also translated books into Latin from Arabic and
Greek. In poetry Ovid wrote for lovers, and taught how love should be
cooled, if it were too hot.
My father, I would read his books, if they might avail me; but as a tree
would perish if its roots were cut away, so if my love were withdrawn, my
heart would die.
That is well said, my son, if there be any way by which love may be
achieved; and assuredly he who will not labour and dares not venture will
attain to nothing. (2633-2700.)

2701-3388. Somnolence. The chamberlain of Sloth is Somnolence, who
sleeps when he should be awake. When knights and ladies revel in
company, he skulks away like a hare and lays himself down to rest; and
there he dreams and snores, and when he wakes, he expounds his dreams. If
thou wilt serve love, my son, do not thou so.
Surely not, father; it were better for me to die than to have such
sluggardy, or rather it were better I had never been born. I have never been
sleepy in the place where my lady was, whether I should dance with her, or
cast the dice, or read of Troilus. When it is late and I must needs go, I look
piteously upon her and take leave upon my knee, or kiss her if I may; and
then before I depart from the house, I feign some cause to return and take
leave of her again. Then afterwards I curse the night for driving me away
from her company, and I sigh and wish for day, or think of the happiness of
those who have their love by their side all the long night through. At last I
go to bed, but my heart remains still with her: no lock may shut him out,
and he passes through the strongest wall. He goes into her bed and takes her
softly in his arms, and wishes that his body also were there. In my dreams
again I suffer the torments of love, or if I dream sometimes that I meet her
alone and that Danger has been left behind, I wake only to find all in vain.
My son, in past times many dreams have told of truth, as thou mayest
know by a tale. (2701-2926.)
Ceix and Alceone. Ceix, king of Trocinie, went on a pilgrimage for the
sake of his brother Dedalion, and left at home Alceone his wife. She
besought him to fix the time of his return, and he said ‘Within two months.’
The time passed and she heard no tidings, and Juno, to whom she prayed,
sent Yris to the house of Sleep, bidding him show this lady by dream how
the matter was.
Yris bent the heaven like a bow and came down, and she went to the
place where Sleep had his dwelling, in a cave where no sun ever shone and
no sound could be heard but the murmur of the river Lethes, which ran hard
by. He himself was sleeping in a chamber strewn up and down with dreams,
and long it was ere her words could pierce his ears. When he at length
understood the message, he chose out three, Morpheus, Ithecus and
Panthasas, to do this deed. Morpheus appeared to Alceone in the form of
her husband lying dead upon the shore, while the other two showed her in

action the scene of the tempest and the wreck. She cried out in terror and
awoke, and on the morrow, going down to the sea, she saw his body
floating on the waves. Careless of death she leapt into the deep, and would
have caught him in her arms; but the gods pitied them and changed them
into birds of the sea, and so they dwelt together lovingly. (2927-3123.)
Thus dreams prove sometimes true.
Father, I have said that when I am in my lady’s company, I do not desire
to sleep. But at other times I care little to wake, for I cannot endure to be in
company without her. I know not if this be Somnolence.
I acquit thee, my son, and I will tell a tale to show how little love and
sleep are in accord. (3124-3186.)
Prayer of Cephalus. He who will wake by night for love may take
example by Cephalus, who when he lay with Aurora prayed to the Sun and
to the Moon that the night might be made longer and the day delayed, in
order that he might follow only the law of love. Sloth cares nothing for the
night except that he may sleep, but Cephalus did otherwise. (3187-3275.)
My father, that is no wonder, since he had his love by his side. But this
is never my case, so I have never need to entreat the Sun to stay his chariot,
or the Moon to lengthen her course. Sometimes I have a dream that makes
me glad, but afterwards I find it untrue: so that I know not of what use sleep
is to man.
True, my son, except that it helps nature, when it is taken in due
measure. But he who sleeps unduly may come by misfortune, as I can show
by a tale. (3276-3316.)
Argus and Mercury. Jupiter lay by Io, wherefore Juno changed her into a
cow and gave her into the keeping of Argus, who had a hundred eyes.
Mercury came to steal the cow, and he piped so cunningly that Argus fell
asleep. So Mercury smote off his head and took away Io. Therefore, my
son, beware thou sleep not overmuch. (3317-3364.)
Love will not let me do so, father: but ask further, if there be more.
Yea, my son, one there is to tell of still. (3365-3388.)
3389-3692. Tristesce. When Sloth has done all that he may, he
conceives Tristesce, which drives him to utter wretchedness. With Tristesce

is Obstinacy, and despair follows them. So it is with some lovers, who lose
all hope.
I am one of these, father, except that I do not cease to pray.
My son, do not despair; for when the heart fails, all is lost. Listen to a
tale about this. (3389-3514.)
Iphis and Araxarathen. Iphis, son of king Theucer, loved a maid of low
estate. Though a prince, he was subject to love, but she would not listen to
his suit. At length being brought to despair, he came before her house in the
night, and having bewailed his case and lamented her hardness of heart, he
hanged himself upon the post of the gate. On the morrow the maiden took
the guilt upon herself, and prayed that no pity might be shown to her, as she
had shown no pity to him. The gods took away her life and changed her into
stone; and men carried the body of Iphis to the city and set up the stone
image of the maiden above his tomb, with an epitaph telling of their fate.
(3515-3684.)
Thus, my son, despair, as I say, is a grievous thing.
Father, I understand now the nature of Sloth, and I will take heed.

Lib. V.
Avarice is the root of all strife among men. He ever gets more and more
and lets nothing go, and yet he has never enough. He has no profit from his
riches any more than an ox from his ploughing or a sheep from his wool:
instead of being master of his wealth, he serves it as a slave. Dost thou fare
so in love, my son?
No, my father, for I was never in possession; but I cannot here excuse
my will, for if I had my lady, I would never let her go; and herein I am like
the avaricious man. Moreover, though I have not the wealth, yet I have the
care, and am like that ox of which ye told before. Judge if this be Avarice.
My son, it is no wonder if thou art a slave to love; but to be a slave to
gold is against nature and reason. (1-140.)
Midas. Bacchus had a priest named Cillenus, and he being drunk and
wandering in Frige was brought in bonds before Mide, the king of that land.

This king dealt with him courteously, and Bacchus in reward of this bade
him ask what worldly thing he would. He debated long within himself
between three things, pleasure, power and wealth; and at length he asked
that all things might be turned by his touch to gold. The boon granted, he
tried his power on stone and leaf, but when he at length sat down to meat,
then he saw the folly of Avarice, and prayed Bacchus to take back his gift.
The god took pity and bade him bathe in Paceole, and so he recovered his
first estate; but the stones in the bed of the river were changed to gold. He
went home and put away his Avarice, and taught his people to till the land
and breed cattle rather than seek increase of gold. (141-332.)
Before gold was coined, war and usury were unknown, but now through
Avarice all the world is out of joint. When thou seest a man have need, give
him of thy substance, for the pain of Tantalus awaits those who will not
give: they stand in a river up to their chin and yet cannot drink, and fruit
hangs over and touches their lips, of which they cannot eat. Thus Avarice
hungers ever after more, though he has enough, and gets no good from that
which he has. If thou desirest to be beloved, thou must use largess and give
for thy love’s sake: if thou wilt have grace, be gracious, and eschew the
disease of Avarice. Some men have no rest for fear their gold should be
stolen, and so some lovers cannot be at peace for Jealousy. (333-444.)
What is this Jealousy, my father?
It is like a fever, my son, which returns every day. It makes a man look
after his lady wherever she goes, and if she make the least sign of
countenance to another man, he turns it to a cause of quarrel. Nothing can
please him that she does. If he goes from home, he leaves some one to
report her doings, and finds fault where there is none. The wife who is
married to such a man may well curse the day when the gold was laid upon
the book. As the sick man has no appetite for food, so the jealous man has
no appetite for love, and yet like the avaricious he is tormented with the fear
of losing his treasure. Love hates nothing more than this fever of which I
speak, and to show how grievous it is, I will tell thee an example. (445-
634.)
Vulcan and Venus. Vulcan the smith had the fair Venus for his wife,
whom Mars loved and was beloved again. Jealousy caused Vulcan to spy
upon them, and he devised so by his craft that they were caught as they lay

together and bound with chains. He called the gods to see, but was only
rebuked for his pains. Hence earthly husbands may learn that by Jealousy
they bring shame upon themselves. (635-725.)
This example, my father, is hard to understand. How can such things
happen among the gods, when there is but one God who is Lord of all?
How come such gods as these to have a place?
My son, such gods are received by the unwise in sundry places: I will
tell thee how. (726-747.)
747-1970. The Religions of the World. There were four forms of belief
before Christ was born.
The Chaldees worshipped the Sun, Moon and Stars and the Elements,
which cannot be gods because they suffer change. (747-786.)
The Egyptians worshipped beasts, and also three gods and a goddess, of
whom the goddess, Ysis, came from Greece and taught them tillage. (787-
834.)
The Greeks deified the men who were their rulers or who became
famous, as Saturnus king of Crete and Jupiter his son,—such was their
folly. Of gods they had besides these Mars, Apollo, Mercury, Vulcan, Eolus,
Neptune, Pan, Bacchus, Esculapius, Hercules, Pluto, and of goddesses
Sibeles, Juno, Minerva, Pallas, Ceres, Diana, Proserpine; also Satyrs,
Nymphs and Manes,—it would be too long to tell the whole. (835-1373.)
Yes, father, but why have ye said nothing of the god and the goddess of
love?
I have left it for shame, my son, because I am their priest, but since thou
desirest it, I will tell thee. Venus was the daughter of Saturn, and she first
taught that love should be common. She had children both by gods and
men: she lay with her brother Jupiter and her son Cupid, and she first told
women to sell their bodies. Therefore they called her the goddess of love
and her son the god. (1374-1443.)
The Greeks took a god to help in whatsoever they had to do. Dindimus,
king of the Bragmans, wrote to Alexander, blaming the Greek faith, and
saying that they had a god for every member of their body, Minerva for the
head, Mercury for the tongue, and so on. (1444-1496.)

Idol-worship came first through Cirophanes, who set up an image of his
son, and after that Ninus made a statue of his father Belus, which he caused
to be worshipped, and third came the statue of Apis or Serapis, who spoke
to Alexander in the cave, when he came riding with Candalus. (1497-1590.)
Thus went the misbeliefs of Grece, of Egypt and of Chaldee. Then, as
the book says, God chose a people for himself. Habraham taught his lineage
to worship only the one true God, and after they had multiplied in Egypt,
God delivered them wondrously by Moises and brought them into the land
of promise. But when Christ was born, they failed and fell away; so that
they now live out of God’s grace, dispersed in sundry lands. (1591-1736.)
God sent his Son down from heaven to restore the loss which we
suffered in Adam: so that original sin was the cause of man’s honour at the
last. By this faith only we can attain to Paradise once more, but faith is not
enough without good deeds. Therefore be not deceived by Lollardy, which
sets the true faith of Christ in doubt. (1737-1824.)
Christ wrought first and then taught, so that his words explained his
deeds, but we in these days have the words alone. Our prelates are like that
priest who turned away his eyes and let Anthenor steal the Palladion of
Troy. Christ died for the faith, but they say that life is sweet, and they
follow only their own ease. Therefore the ship of Peter is almost lost in the
waves, and tares are sown among the corn. Gregory complains of the sloth
of the prelacy, and asks how we shall appear beside the Apostles in the day
of Judgement. We shall be like the man who hid his lord’s besant and got no
increase upon it. We are slow towards our spiritual work, but swift to
Avarice, which, as the apostle says, is idolatry.
My father, for this which ye have said I shall take the better heed: but
now tell me the branches of Avarice as well in love as otherwise. (1825-
1970.)
1971-2858. Coveitise. Avarice has many servants, and one of these is
Coveitise, who is her principal purveyor and makes his gain in every place.
He is as the pike who devours the smaller fishes: for him might is always
right. I will tell thee a tale of the punishment of this vice. (1971-2030.)
Virgil’s Mirror. Virgil made a mirror at Rome, wherein the motions of all
enemies for thirty miles round might be seen. They of Carthage had war

with Rome, and took counsel with the king of Puile how they might destroy
this mirror. Crassus, the Roman Emperor, was above all things covetous.
They sent therefore three philosophers to Rome with a great treasure of
gold, which they buried in two places secretly. These men professed to the
Emperor that by dreams they could discover ancient hoards of gold, and
first one and then the other of these buried treasures was found. Then the
third master announced a yet greater treasure, to be found by mining under
the magic mirror. As they mined, they underset the supports of the mirror
with timber, and on a certain night these three set fire to the timber and fled
out of the city. So the mirror fell and was destroyed, and Hanybal slew so
many of the Romans in a day, that he filled three bushels with their gold
rings. The Romans punished their Emperor by pouring molten gold down
his throat, so that his thirst for gold might be quenched. (2031-2224.)
Coveitise in a king or in those of his court is an evil thing, my son; but
he who most covets often gains least, and Fortune stands for much as well
in courts as elsewhere. (2225-2272.)
The Two Coffers. A king heard that his courtiers complained of unequal
rewards for their service. He resolved to show them that the fault lay not
with him, and he caused two coffers to be made in all respects alike, the one
of which he filled with gold and jewels, and the other with straw and stones.
He called before him those who had complained, and bade them choose.
They chose the worthless coffer, and he proved to them by this, that if they
were not advanced, their fortune only was to blame. (2273-2390.)
Like this is the story of the Two Beggars whom the Emperor Frederick
heard disputing about riches, and for whom he prepared two pasties, one
containing a capon and the other full of florins. (2391-2441.)
Thus it is often with love: though thou covet, yet shalt thou not obtain
more than fortune has allotted thee. Yet there are those that covet every
woman whom they see, finding something to their liking in each. They can
no more judge in matters of love than a blind man can judge of colours.
My father, I had rather be as poor as Job than covet in such a manner.
There is one whom I would have, and no more. (2442-2513.)
There are some also who choose a woman not for her face nor yet for
her virtue, but only for her riches.

Such am not I, father. I could love my lady no more than I do, if she
were as rich as Candace or Pantasilee; and I think no man is so covetous
that he would not set his heart upon her more than upon gold. To one who
knows what love is, my lady seems to have all the graces of nature, and she
is also the mirror and example of goodness. It were better to love her than
to love one who has a million of gold. I say not that she is poor, for she has
enough of worldly goods; yet my heart has never been drawn to her but for
pure love’s sake.
It is well, my son, for no other love will last. Hear now an example of
how coveitise prevailed over love. (2514-2642.)
The King and his Steward’s Wife. There was a king of Puile, whom his
physicians counselled to take a fair young woman to his bed, and he bade
his steward provide. The steward had a wife whom he had married for lucre
and not for love, and he set his coveitise before his honour. Having received
a hundred pounds from the king to procure him the woman, he brought at
night his own wife, against her will. Before the morning he came and
desired to take her away, but the king refused to let her go, and at length the
steward was compelled to tell him who she was. The king threatened him
with death if he remained one day longer in the land, and afterwards he took
the woman for his wife. (2643-2825.)
Beware, my son, of this, for it is a great evil when marriage is made for
lucre.
Father, so think I, and yet riches may sometimes be a help to love. Now
ask me more, if more there be. (2826-2858.)
2859-4382. False Witness and Perjury. Coveitise has two counsellors,
False Witness and Perjury, who make gain for their master by lying. So
lovers often swear faithful service to a woman, and it is all treachery.
I am not one of these, father: my thought is not discordant to my word. I
may safely swear that I love my lady, and if other men should bear witness
of it for me, there would be no false swearing.
My son, I will tell thee a tale to show that False Witness is at last found
out. (2859-2960.)
Achilles and Deidamia. Thetis, in order that her son Achilles might not
go to Troy, disguised him as a girl and put him to dwell with the daughters

of king Lichomede. There he was the bedfellow of Deidamie, and so her
maidenhead was lost. The Greeks in the meantime assailed Troy in vain,
and it was told them by divination that unless they had Achilles, their war
would be endless. Ulixes therefore was sent with Diomede to bring him,
and coming to the kingdom of Lichomede he could not distinguish Achilles
from the rest. Then he set forth the gifts which he had brought for the
women, and among them a knight’s harness brightly burnished. Achilles left
all the rest and chose this, and then he came forth armed in it before them.
He was glad enough, but not so Lichomede, who had been so overseen.
Thus came out the treachery of False Witness; and if Thetis, who was a
goddess, thus deceived Deidamie, what security have women against the
untruth of lovers? (2961-3218.)
My father, tell me some tale about Perjury.
I will tell thee, my son, how Jason did to Medea, as it is written in the
book of Troy. (3219-3246.)
Jason and Medea. Jason was the nephew of king Peleus; and desiring to
achieve adventures and see strange lands, he took a company of knights,
and among them Hercules, and sailed to the isle of Colchos to win the
fleece of gold. On the way they touched at Troy, where the king Lamedon
treated them discourteously, and then they came to Colchos. Oëtes, who
was king there, endeavoured to persuade Jason to leave his adventure, but
without success; and then the princess Medea entertained him with
welcome. Moved by love of him she offered him her help to win the fleece,
and he plighted his troth to her and swore that he would never part from her.
She taught him what to do, and gave him a magic ring and an ointment,
telling him also what charms and prayers to use, so that he might slay the
serpent which guarded the fleece, yoke the fire-breathing oxen to the
plough, sow the teeth of the serpent and slay the knights who should spring
up.
He took his leave of her, and passing over the water in a boat did as
Medea bade him. Returning with the fleece he was welcomed back by
Medea and the rest, and that night he took Medea and her treasure on board
his ship and they sailed away to Greece. It was vain to pursue: they were
gone.

When they came to Greece, all received them with joy, and these lovers
lived together, till they had two sons. Medea with her charms renewed the
youth of Eson, Jason’s father, and brought him back to the likeness of a
young man of twenty years. No woman could have shown more love to a
man than she did to Jason; and yet, when he bare the crown after his uncle
Peleus was dead, he broke the oath which he had sworn and took Creusa,
daughter of king Creon, to wife. Medea sent her the gift of a mantle, from
which fire sprang out and consumed her; then in the presence of Jason she
killed his two sons, and was gone to the court of Pallas above before he
could draw his sword to slay her. Thus mayest thou see what sorrow it
brings to swear an oath in love which is not sooth. (3247-4229.)
I have heard before this how Jason won the fleece, but tell me now who
brought that fleece first to Colchos.
Phrixus and Helle. King Athemas by his first wife had two children,
Frixus and Hellen; but his second wife Yno hated them and contrived a
device against them. She sowed the land with sodden wheat; and when no
harvest came, she caused the priests of Ceres to say that the land must be
delivered of these children. The queen bade men throw the children into the
sea; but Juno saved them, and provided a sheep with golden fleece, which
swam with them over the waves. Hellen for dread fell off his back and so
was lost, but her brother was borne over to the isle of Colchos, and there the
fleece was set, which was the cause why Jason was so forsworn.
My father, he who breaks his troth thus is worthy neither to love nor to
be beloved. (4230-4382.)
4383-4670. Usury. Another of the brood of Avarice is Usury, whose
brokers run about like hounds, hunting after gain. He has unequal weights
and measures, and he takes back a bean where he has lent a pea. So there
are many lovers, who though the love they gave will hardly weigh a mite,
yet ask a pound again; and often by the help of their brokers these buy love
for little.
My father, I am not guilty of this. That which I give is far more than
ever I take again. Usury will have double, but I would be content with half.
If my lady reward me not the better, I can never recover my cost. Nor yet
have I ever used brokers in love. But thought is free, my father, and to me it
seems that my lady herself cannot be excused of this that ye call Usury. For

one glance of her eye she has my whole heart, and she will render me
nothing again. She has all my love and I go loveless: she says not so much
as ‘Thanks.’ Myself I can acquit, and if she be to blame in this, I pray God
to give her grace to amend.
My son, thou speakest ill in that thou accusest thy lady. She may be
such that her one glance is worth thy heart many times reckoned. Moreover
in love the balance is not even: though thy love weigh more, thou must not
ask for return as a debt that is due; for Love is lord and does after his own
will. Be patient, and perchance all may turn to good. I am well pleased that
thou hast used in love no brokerage to deceive. (4383-4572.)
Echo. Brokers of love receive at last that which they have deserved.
Juno had Echo among her maidens, and she was of accord with Jupiter to
get him new loves and to blind her lady’s eyes. When Juno understood this,
she reproved her and took vengeance, sending her to dwell in the woods
and hills and repeat always the sound of the voices that came to her ears.
(4573-4652.)
If ever thou be wedded man, my son, use no such means as this.
4671-4884. Parsimony or Scarceness. Another there is whom Avarice
has for the keeper of his house, and his name is Scarceness. It is easier to
flay the flint than to get from him the value of a rush to help another. How
is it with thee, my son? Hast thou been scarce or free towards thy love?
My father, if I had all the treasure of Cresus or the gold of Octovien, I
would give it all to her, if I might. But indeed I never gave her any gift, for
from me she will not take any, lest I should have some small cause of hope.
Yet she takes from others and gives again, so that all speak well of her. As
for me, she knows that my heart and all that I have is at her command and
will be while I live. (4671-4780.)
Babio and Croceus. Scarceness accords not with love, and often a man
has lost the coat for the hood. With gift a man may do much, and meed
keeps love in house. Babio had a love named Viola, who was both fair and
free; but he was a niggard, and so she was ill served. Croceus, liberal and
amorous, came in her way, and she left Babio loveless. (4781-4862.)
My father, if there be anything amiss in me toward my love in this
matter, I will amend it.

Thou sayest well, and I will pass on. (4863-4884.)
4885-5504. Ingratitude or Unkindness. This is a vice which repays no
service, and when he has received a barnful, grudges to give a grain in
return. God and Nature both condemn this vice, and even a beast loves the
creature who does him kindness, as this tale will show by example. (4885-
4936.)
Adrian and Bardus. Adrian, a great lord of Rome, while hunting in a
forest, fell into a pit. He cried for help all day, but none heard till evening,
when one Bardus, a woodcutter, came by with his ass, and heard Adrian
promise to give half his goods to him who should help him. He let down a
rope, and first an ape and then a serpent was drawn up by it. Bardus was
terrified, but still the voice implored help, and at length Adrian was drawn
up. At once this lord departed without thanks, and threatened Bardus with
vengeance if ever he should claim the promise. The poor man went home,
not daring to speak more, and on the next day, going to get wood, he found
that the ape had requited his kindness by gathering for him a great heap of
sticks, and so continued to do day by day; and the serpent brought him a
precious stone in her mouth. This last he sold to a jeweller and afterwards
found it again in his purse, and as often as he sold it, the same thing
followed. At length this came to be known, and the Emperor heard of it.
Calling Bardus before him he listened to his tale, and gave judgement that
Adrian should fulfil his promise. (4937-5162.)
Flee this vice, my son, for many lovers are thus unkind.
Alas, father, that such a man should be, who when he has had what he
would of love, can find it in his heart to be false. As for me, I dare not say
that my lady is guilty of this Unkindness, but I for my part am free.
Thou must not complain of thy lady, my son. Perchance thy desire is not
such as she in honour can grant. It is well that thou art not guilty of
Unkindness, and I will tell thee a tale to keep thee in that course. (5163-
5230.)
Theseus and Ariadne. Minos, king of Crete, having war with those of
Athens, compelled them as a tribute to send nine men yearly, whom he gave
to be devoured by Minotaurus. The lot fell at last upon Theseus, son of the
king of Athens, and he went with the rest to Crete. Adriagne, daughter of

Minos, loved him, and she gave him help to slay the monster. Then he took
her away with him by ship, and her sister Fedra went in their company.
They rested in the isle of Chio, and there he left Adriagne sleeping, and
sailed away with Fedra. Thus by his ingratitude and falsehood he broke the
law of love, and evil came of it afterwards. (5231-5495.)
5505-6074. Ravine. Ravine, in whose service is extortion, seizes other
men’s goods without right and without payment. So there are lovers who
will take possession by force. (5505-5550.)
Tereus. Pandion, king of Athens, had two daughters, Progne and
Philomene. Progne was married to Tereus, king of Thrace, and desiring to
see her sister, she sent Tereus to Athens to bring her. Coming back in
company with Philomene he ravished her, and then maddened by her
reproaches cut out her tongue, so that she could speak no articulate words.
Then he shut her up in prison, and coming home to his wife, he told her that
her sister was dead. Philomene in her prison prayed for deliverance, and at
length weaving her story with letters and imagery in a cloth of silk, she sent
it by a privy messenger to Progne. Progne delivered her sister, and together
they concerted vengeance, with prayers to Venus, Cupid and Apollo. Progne
slew the son which she had by Tereus and served up his flesh to him for
meat, and when he would have pursued the sisters to take vengeance, the
gods transformed them all three, Philomene to a nightingale, which
complains ever for her lost maidenhead, Progne to a swallow, which
twitters round houses and warns wives of the falsehood of their husbands,
and Tereus to a lapwing, the falsest of birds, with a crest upon his head in
token that he was a knight. (5551-6047.)
Father, I would choose rather to be trodden to death by wild horses or
torn in pieces, than do such a thing as this against love’s law. (6048-6074.)
6075-6492. Robbery. The vice of Robbery gets his sustenance by that
which he can take on the high-roads, in woods and in fields. So there are
lovers, who, if they find a woman in a lonely place, will take a part of her
wares, no matter who she may be; and the wife who sits at home waiting for
her husband’s return from hunting will hear from him nothing of this, but
only how his hounds have run or his hawks have flown. (6075-6144.)
Neptune and Cornix. Cornix was a maid attendant on Pallas, and as she
went upon the shore, Neptune thought to rob her of the treasure which

passes all others and is called the maidenhead. She prayed to Pallas, and by
her help escaped from him in the form of a crow, rejoicing more to keep her
maidenhead white under the blackness of the feathers than to lose it and be
adorned with the fairest pearls. (6145-6217.)
Calistona. King Lichaon had a daughter Calistona, who desired ever to
be a maiden and dwelt with the nymphs of Diane. Jupiter by craft stole her
maidenhead, and Diane discovering it reproached her, so that she fled away.
She was delivered of a son, Archas, but Juno in vengeance transformed her
into a bear. In that likeness she met her son in the forest, and he bent his
bow against her, but Jupiter ordained for them both so that they were saved
from misfortune. (6225-6337.)
Such Robbery, my son, is ever to be avoided, and I will tell thee how in
old days Virginity was held in esteem.
Valerius tells how the Emperor did honour to the virgin, when he met
her in the way, and we hear also of Phirinus, who thrust out his eyes in
order that he might the better keep his virginity.
Valentinian moreover, the Emperor, in his old age rejoiced more that he
had overcome his flesh, than that he had conquered his enemies in battle.
(6338-6428.)
Evil follows when Virginity is taken away in lawless manner, as when
Agamenon took Criseide from the city of Lesbon, and plague came upon
the host, so that they sent her back with prayer and sacrifice.
Therefore do no Robbery in love’s cause, my son. (6429-6492.)
6493-6960. Stealth. Coveitise has also a servant called Stealth, who
takes his prey in secret, coming into houses at night, or cutting purses by
day. Like the dog that comes back from worrying sheep, he looks all
innocent, so that no man knows what he has done. There are lovers also
who take by stealth, either kisses or other things. Hast thou done so? (6493-
6561.)
I dare not, father, for my heart is hers and will not do anything against
her. Moreover Danger is so watchful a warden that none can steal anything
from her. Strong locks make thieves into honest men, and by no lying in
wait can I slip through his guard. Yet at night I often wake when others
sleep, and I look out from my window upon the houses round, and mark the

chamber where she lies. I stand there long in the cold and wish for some
device of sorcery, whereby I might enter that chamber and steal. It brings
me ease for the time to think of these things, but it profits me nothing in the
end. It is for you to judge if I deserve penance for this or no.
Stealth does little good, my son, in the end. I will tell thee a tale from
Ovid of stealth which was done by day. (6562-6712.)
Leucothoe. Phebus loved Leuchotoe, whom her mother kept close in
chamber and seldom allowed to go forth. On a day he came in suddenly
through her chamber wall and stole her maidenhead. Her father, when he
knew, dared not take quarrel with Phebus, but without pity he caused her to
be buried alive; and Phebus wrought so that she sprang up as a golden
flower, which ever follows the sun. (6713-6783.)
No wonder that this came to evil, my father, because it was done in
broad day, but lovers sometimes have kept their thefts more secret. Tell me
of something done by night. (6784-6806.)
Hercules and Faunus. Hercules and Eolen, going together on a
pilgrimage towards Rome, rested in a cave. Faunus, with Saba and her
nymphs, were in a wood hard by, and Faunus, having had a sight of Eolen,
thought to come by night and steal. Hercules and Eolen went to rest on
separate beds, having to offer sacrifice on the morrow, and as they had
exchanged clothes with one another in sport, she had his mace by her and
his clothes upon her bed, and he her wimple round his face and her mantle
over him. The servants slept like drunken swine. Faunus came into the cave,
and feeling the mace and lion’s skin, he left her bed alone and went over to
the other. Hercules seized him and threw him on the floor, where he still lay
helpless on the morrow, a laughing-stock to Saba and the nymphs.
I have too faint a heart, father, for any such michery. (6807-6960.)
6961-7609. Sacrilege. God has laid down a law that men shall not steal,
but work for their sustenance, and yet there are those who will even take the
goods of holy Church, and this is called Sacrilege. [There are three kinds of
Sacrilege, namely, theft of holy thing from holy place, of common thing
from holy place, or of holy thing from common place. (7015*-7029*.)]
Three princes especially in old days were guilty of this, Antiochus,
Nabuzardan and Nabugodonosor. This last wrought sacrilege in the temple

at Jerusalem, and Baltazar his heir paid the penalty. (6961-7031.) [A tale is
told of one Lucius at Rome, who robbed the statue of Apollo of a ring, a
golden mantle and a golden beard, and excused himself, saying that he took
the ring because it was held out towards him and offered, the mantle
because it was too heavy for summer and too cold for winter, and the beard
because it was not fit that Apollo should have a beard, when his father, who
stood near him, was beardless. Thus can men feign and excuse themselves.
(7105*-7209*.)]
There are lovers who at mass will whisper in their lady’s ear or take
from her hand a ring or glove. Some go to churches to seek out women and
to show themselves there in fresh array, looking round upon them all and
sighing, so that each thinks it is for her; and yet such a man loves none of
them, but goes there only to steal their hearts. All this is Sacrilege.
My father, I do not so: but when my lady goes to matins or to mass,
thither I go also; and then my looks are for her alone, and my prayers are
that God may change her heart. I watch and wait to steal from her a word or
look, and when I lead her up to the offering with my hand about her waist, I
win a touch as well. Except in such things I have done no Sacrilege, but it is
my power and not my will that fails.
Thy will is to blame, my son; the rest that thou hast said is of little
account. Yet all things have their time and place: the church is for prayer
and the chamber for other things. That thou mayest know how Sacrilege is
punished, I will spend on thee a tale. (7032-7194.)
Paris and Helen. Lamedon was king of Troy, and against him the
Greeks made war, and they slew him and destroyed his city. With other
prisoners they took the fair Esiona his daughter, and she was given to
Thelamon. Priamus, son of Lamedon, built up Troy again, and with advice
of his parliament he sent Antenor to demand back Esiona. The Greeks and
Thelamon stoutly refused his request, and Priamus called his parliament
again to debate of war or peace. Hector spoke for peace, alleging grounds of
prudence, though he was ever the first in war; but his brother Paris gave his
voice for avenging the wrong. He told how, as he slept beside a well, three
goddesses came before him in a vision, and Venus, to whom he assigned the
golden apple which was the prize of beauty, had promised to give him in
Greece the fairest woman of all the earth. Paris then went forth to Greece,

though Cassandra and Helenus lamented for the evil that was to come.
Landed in an isle he met the queen Heleine, who came to do sacrifice there
to Venus, and he stole her heart. Heleine was in the temple all the night,
offering prayer to Venus, and Paris came all suddenly and bore her to his
ship. This Sacrilege was the cause why the Greeks laid siege about Troy,
and at last burnt and slew all that was within it. (7195-7590.)
Note also how Achilles saw Polixena in the temple of Apollo, and how
Troilus first laid his love on Criseide in a holy place. Take heed therefore to
thyself.
Thus Avarice has more branches than any other vice, and the working of
it is everywhere seen; but if a man would live rightly, he must do Largess.
(7591-7640.)
7641-7844. Prodigality and Largess. Virtue lies between two extremes:
here we see Avarice and Prodigality, and between them Liberality or
Largess, which holds the middle path between too much and too little.
Where Largess guides a man, he does what is right both to God and the
world, and God rewards him with the gift of heaven. The world gives ever
to him who hath; but it is better to give than to receive, to have thine own
good than to crave that of others. ‘If thy good suffice thee not, then refrain
thy desires and suffice to thy good.’ Charity begins with itself: if thou
enrich others making thyself poor, thou wilt have little thanks. ‘Jack is a
good fellow,’ they say while his money lasts, but when that is gone, then
‘Jack was a good fellow,’ and they leave him to starve. (7641-7760.)
There are lovers who spend and waste their love with Prodigality,
setting their heart upon many. But he who makes himself thus common,
loses the special love of one, if she be wise. Hast thou thus wasted thy love?
Nay, father: I have tasted here and there, but never truly loved any
excepting one. On her indeed my love is wasted, for it brings no return: I
know not whether this is what ye mean by Prodigality.
My son, perchance thy love is not lost nor wasted. None can say how
such a thing will end; therefore I know not whether thou hast lost or won.
As summer returns after winter, so perchance thou mayest yet recover thy
grace of love. (7761-7834.)

Lib. VI.
1-14. Gluttony. The great original sin which brought death on all
mankind was Gule, that is, Gluttony. The branches of it are many, but I shall
speak of two only.
15-616. Drunkenness makes a wise man foolish and a fool think
himself wise. The drunken man thinks that there is nothing that he does not
know and nothing that he cannot do, yet he is withal so helpless that he can
neither stand nor go; he knows not what he is, nor whether it is day or night.
In the morning he calls again for the cup which made him lose his wits at
night. The wine binds him fast and makes him a subject and a slave. (5-75.)
There are lovers so besotted with love, that they know no more than
drunken men what reason is. The greatest men have been thus overcome:
Salomon, Sampson, David, Virgil and Aristotle. Confess if thou art thus
drunken, for I think by thy countenance thou art schapen to this malady.
It is true, my father: I confess that I am drunk with love, and often I
know not what I do, so that men marvel at me. When I am absent from my
lady I am drunk with the thoughts of her, and when I am present, with
looking upon her. At times I am in Paradise, and then I wake and my joy is
turned to woe. I suffer then the fever of hot and cold, and the evil is that the
more I drink, the more I am athirst. Yet I think if I had truly a draught of the
drink that I desire, I should be sobered and do well; but tasting of this is
forbidden me. (76-305.)
Love-drunkenness, my son, is a grievous thing, and yet none can
withstand it. It is not all of one kind, for Jupiter has two tuns full of love-
drink in his cellar, the one sweet and the other bitter. Cupid is butler of both,
and being blind he gives men to drink of them by chance, now of this and
now of that, so that some laugh and others lower. I know by thy tale that
thou hast drunk of the potion that is bitter. (306-390.)
Bacchus in the Desert. But thou must ever pray to attain to the other,
whereby thy thirst may be allayed, as Bacchus prayed in the desert, when he
and all his host were in danger of perishing by thirst. Jupiter sent a ram,
which spurned the ground, and there sprang up a fountain of water. (391-
439.)

Pray thou thus in thy need: a dumb man seldom gets land. Remember
moreover that the butler is blind, and he may by chance give thee a drink of
the sweet, which shall cause thee to grow sober.
Of love-drunkenness an example is Tristram, who drank with Bele
Ysolde of the drink which Brangwein gave them: and that thou may the
more eschew the company of drunken men, hear this tale. (440-484.)
Marriage of Pirithous. The fair Ipotacie was wedded to Pirotoüs, and he
invited his friends to the feast. They became drunk both with wine and with
desire, and so they carried away the bride by violence from her husband.
(485-529.)
Galba and Vitellus were rulers of Spain, and so drunken were they both
that the land cried out against them. They ravished both wife and maid, but
at length they were brought under the law and condemned to die. Then they
filled full a great vessel of wine and drank until their senses left them, and
so they were slain, being already half dead. (537-595.)
617-1260. Delicacy. The vice of Delicacy will not lack any pleasure
which meat or drink can give, and desires always something new.
So he who is delicate in love cannot content himself with what he has;
but though he have a fair wife, yet he will set his heart on others, and
though his lady make him cheer, he must have more than she can with
honour give.
I am not guilty of this, father: I would be satisfied if I could be fed at all,
except with woe. Yet some dainties I pick which please me for the time.
(617-752.)
My sight is fed with dainties when I look upon her face and form, yet it
may never be fed to the full, but always longs for more. (753-826.)
My hearing has a dainty feast when men commend her worthiness and
grace, and above all when I hear her speak, for her words are to me like the
winds of the South. Or again, I feed my ears with tales of those who loved
before I was born, of Ydoine and Amadas and of many more, and I think
how sorrow endures but for a time. (827-898.)
Finally, I have a cook whose name is Thought, who keeps his pots ever
boiling with fancy and desire, and sets before me on the table all the

pleasant sights that I have seen and words that I have heard. Yet it is no full
meal, but one of woulds and wishes, so that the food I have does me little
good, and serves only to keep off starvation, till I have the feast which shall
satisfy my hunger. (899-938.)
Such are my three delights, and I take my food thus of thinking, hearing
and seeing, as a plover does of air. By Delicacy such as this I hope that I do
no Gluttony.
It is in small things only that thou hast thy delight, my son; but
remember always that the delights of the body do grievance to the soul.
(939-974.)
Dives and Lazarus. Christ tells a tale against this vice, which is read in
Latin, but for the better knowledge of the truth I will declare it in English.
Christ saith, &c. (975-1109.)
Thus, my son, he who follows Delicacy and gives no alms shall fall into
distress. He who has power over the good things of this world may wear the
richest ornaments and eat the choicest food, yet he must put away Delicacy,
if he would not starve his soul while feeding his body. (1110-1150.)
Nero followed his lusts against nature, and in regard to Delicacy he
wrought a subtle thing to know how his stomach fared. He chose three men
to eat and drink at his table. On a certain day after meat he caused one to
ride, another to walk, and the third to sleep, and after this he killed them, in
order that he might see which had best digested his food.
He refrained from nothing that was pleasant to him, and above all he set
his heart on women, so that he spared neither wife nor maid. So drunk was
he with his lusts. (1151-1226.)
Delicacy and Drunkenness go together and pass all bounds of reason.
Thus too Love is at times so unrestrained that he takes no heed of God’s
law, but calls in the powers of heaven and earth and hell to achieve his
purpose. (1227-1260.)
1261-2407. Sorcery. There is nothing that love will not dare. He
follows no law but his own, and goes forth like Bayard the blind horse, till
he fall into the ditch. Thus at times he follows Sorcery, whether Geomance,
Ydromance, Piromance or Nigromance, with all the craft both of invocation
of spirits and of natural magic.

I know nothing of this, father; but to win my lady I would once have
done all that might be done, whether in hell or heaven.
That goes very near, my son: but I warn thee that he who does so is
beguiled at last, and that Sorcery has no good end. (1261-1390.)
Ulysses and Telegonus. Of those that were at Troy Uluxes had a name
above all for craft and magic arts. This king was vexed by storms as he
returned, and in spite of needle and stone his ship was driven upon the
strand of Cilly, where he found two queens, Calipsa and Circes. These were
sorceresses and they changed many of his men to the form of beasts, but he
overcame them with his sorceries, and at length he took his course for
home, leaving Circes with child. His wife and all his people rejoiced at his
home-coming, but when a man is most in his prosperity, then fortune makes
him soonest fall. He had a dream, as he lay upon his bed, and he seemed to
see a form of heavenly beauty. He embraced that image and it embraced
him again, and it said to him: ‘Our acquaintance shall be hereafter to our
sorrow: one of us two shall take his death from this love in which we now
rejoice.’ It showed him then a sign, three fishes wrought upon a pennon, and
so all suddenly went forth from him.
Uluxes started from sleep, and making his calculations upon this, he
judged that the danger was to be feared from his son Thelamachus. Him
therefore he shut up within castle wall, and he made for himself a
stronghold and set his servants to keep guard. But none can make resistance
against his fate: Thelogonus, his son by Circes, came to find his father,
bearing as his ensign a pennon with three fishes upon his spear, and he
came to this stronghold of Uluxes. The guards denied him entrance and an
affray arose at the gate. The king came forth, and Thelogonus cast his spear
at him, not knowing who he was. Uluxes was wounded to death, but he
recognized the figure of his dream and the sign upon the pennon, and
embraced his son, commending him to the care of Thelamachus before he
died.
Lo, what evil came to him of Sorcery: by Sorcery he begat his son, and
that which was done against nature was against nature avenged. (1391-
1788.)
Nectanabus. The king of Egypt, Nectanabus, a great magician, fled from
his enemies to Macedoine. In the chief city there the queen Olimpias kept

the feast of her nativity and rode forth to be seen by the people. Nectanabus
stood with the others, and gazed upon her so steadfastly, that the queen sent
for him and asked him who he was. He replied that he was one who had a
message for her, which must be said in private. She appointed a time, and
he told her how the god Amos of Lybia desired to be her bedfellow and
would beget a child of her who should subdue the whole earth. To prove his
words he caused her by his magic to have a vision, which she took for
prophecy; and so at length, coming in the person of the god and
transforming himself into various shapes, he had his will of her and begat a
son. Nectanabus caused Philip the king, being from home, to have a vision
whereby he supposed that a god had lain with his wife, and returning he
found her with child. Still he doubted, but by further signs and wonders
Nectanabus caused him to forget his jealousy. Amid portents of earthquake
and of tempest the child was born, and his name was called Alexander. He
grew up, and Aristotle taught him philosophy, while Nectanabus instructed
him in astronomy. On a certain night, when they were upon a tower
observing the stars, Nectanabus prophesied by them that his own death
should be by the hands of his son. Alexander, to prove that he lied, threw
him from the tower to the ground, asking what was the use of his art if he
could not prophesy his own fate rightly. Nectanabus made known the truth,
and Alexander was sorry, and told his mother how it was. Thus he died and
was buried, and this was the reward of Sorcery. (1789-2366.)
Zoroaster too and Saul came to evil by Sorcery. I counsel thee never to
use this, my son. (2367-2400.)
I will not, father. But I beseech you tell me something of that
Philosophy which, as ye said, Aristotle taught to Alexander: for to hear of
something new might ease my pain.
Thou sayest well; but I, who am of the school of Venus, know not much
of this high lore. Yet, as it is comprehended in a book, I can in part show
forth to thee how it is. (2401-2440.)

Lib. VII.
1-60. Thou hast prayed me to declare to thee the school of Aristotle, and
how Alexander was taught. This is not the matter on which we were set to

speak; yet since wisdom is to be desired above all things, I will tell thee of
that which Calistre and Aristotle wrote to Alexander.
There are three principal points of Philosophy: Theoric, Rhetoric,
Practic.
61-1506. Theoric. The parts of Theoric are three: Theology, Physics and
Mathematics. The first treats of God and things spiritual; the second of
bodily things, such as man, beast, herb and stone; and the third has four
divisions, Arithmetic, Music, Geometry and Astronomy. (61-202.)
Aristotle taught this young king of the four elements and the four
complexions of man, of the principal divisions of the earth, and of the fifth
element, Orbis, which contains the whole. (203-632.)
To speak next of Astronomy, this Orbis is that which we call the
firmament, and in it are first the seven Planets, and then the twelve Signs of
the Zodiac, about each of which Alexander was taught in turn. (633-1280.)
Nectanabus, teaching him natural magic, informed him of the Fifteen
Stars and of the stone and herb appropriate to each, by means of which
wonders may be worked. (1281-1438.)
The authors who taught this science of Astronomy were first Noë, then
Nembrot, and after them many others, but principally Tholomee, who wrote
the book of Almagest, and Hermes. (1439-1492.)
Thus these Philosophers taught Alexander in regard to that which is
called Theoric. (1493-1506.)
1507-1640. Rhetoric. Speech is given to man alone and he must take
heed that he turn it to no evil use. There is virtue in stones and in herbs, but
word has virtue more than any earthly thing. But the word must not be
discordant with the thought, as when Uluxes by his eloquence persuaded
Anthenor to betray to him the city of Troy. Words are both evil and good,
they make friend of foe and foe of friend. For a true example of Rhetoric
read how Julius and the consul Cithero pleaded against one another when
the treason of Catiline was discovered.
1641-5397. Practic. This has three divisions, Ethics, Economics and
Politics. A king must learn the first in order that he may rule himself in the

way of good living, the second teaches him how to order his household, and
the third how to govern his kingdom. (1641-1710.)
1711-1984. The first point of Policy is Truth, which above all things
ought to be found in a king; and this is in part signified by the jewels of his
crown.
To show thee that Truth is the sovereign virtue of all, I will tell thee a
tale. (1711-1782.)
King, Wine, Woman and Truth. Daires, Soldan of Perce, had three wise
men about his chamber, Arpaghes, Manachaz and Zorobabel. To them he
put the question, which is strongest, wine, woman, or a king. Of this they
disputed in turn, and Arpaghes said, ‘A king is the strongest, for he has
power over men and can raise them up and cast them down: also he alone
stands free from the law.’ Manachaz said, ‘Wine is the strongest, for this
takes reason away from the wise and makes the fool seem learned, this
turns cowardice to courage and avarice to largess.’ Zorobabel said, ‘Women
are the strongest, for the king and all other men come of women and bow to
the love of women,’ and he told how he had seen Cirus upon his throne
overcome by the love of Apemen, daughter of Besazis, so that she did with
him what she would. Women too make men desire honour, and woman is
next to God the greatest help of man, as Alceste, wife of Ametus, gave her
life to save her husband. Thus Zorobabel told his opinion, but nevertheless
he said that above all these the mightiest of all earthly things is Truth: and
so the question was concluded, and Zorobabel was most commended for his
judgement. (1783-1984.)
1985-2694. Largess is the second point of Policy. A king must be free
from the vices both of Avarice and of Prodigality. As Aristotle taught by the
ill example of the king of Chaldee, he must spend his own substance and
not that of his people, he must do justice before he makes gifts, and his gifts
must be to those who have deserved them. (1985-2060.)
Julius and the poor Knight. A knight came to plead his cause at Rome,
where the Emperor Julius was in presence; but he could get no advocate,
because he was poor. He prayed for justice to the Emperor, and Julius
assigned him an advocate. The knight was angry, and said, ‘When I was
with thee in Afric, I fought myself and put no man in my stead: and so thou

here shouldest speak for me thyself.’ Julius took his cause in hand; and thus
every worthy king should help his servants when in need. (2061-2114.)
Antigonus and Cinichus. A king should know how much to give. A poor
knight asked King Antigonus for a great sum, and he replied, ‘That is too
much for thee to ask’: then when the knight asked a very small gift, he said,
‘That is too little for me to give.’
Kings must not exceed the due measure in giving, and especially they
ought not to give to flatterers, who offend against God, against the prince
and against the people. Yet flattery is always found in the courts of kings.
(2115-2216.)
Diogenes and Aristippus. Two Philosophers went from Carthage to
Athens to learn, and thence returned again. The one, Diogenes, was content
to dwell apart and study, the other, Arisippus, went to court and got honour
and wealth by flattery. Diogenes was gathering herbs in his garden and
washing them in the river, when Arisippus passed by with a company, and
said, ‘If thou hadst known how to make thyself pleasing to thy prince, there
would have been no need for thee to pick herbs.’ The other replied, ‘If thou
hadst known how to pick herbs, there would have been no need for thee to
make thyself pleasing by thy flatteries.’ (2217-2317.)
But the example of Arisippus is chiefly followed, and flattery is that
which makes men beloved. [Dante the poet said once to a flatterer, ‘Thou
hast many more servants than I, for a poet cannot find how to feed and
clothe himself, but a flatterer may rule and lead a king and all his land.’]
There was a custom among the Romans, which was established against
flattery, as follows. (2318-2354.)
Roman Triumph. When an Emperor had a triumph after victory, he went
in pomp with four white horses and the nobles of the land before and
behind him: but one sat with him in his car, who said continually, ‘Know
thyself, and remember that good fortune is only for a time.’ Moreover he
and every other man might speak whatever truth he knew to the Emperor,
whether good or bad. (2355-2411.)
The Emperor and his Masons. Again, when an Emperor was enthroned,
his masons came to ask him how he would have the stone made for his
tomb. There was no flattery then, to deceive princes. (2412-2448.)

Caesar’s Answer. One came and did reverence to Cesar, as if he were a
god: then he came and sat down by his side as an equal. ‘If thou art a god,’
he said, ‘I have done well in worshipping thee, but if a man, in sitting by
thy side.’ Cesar answered that he was a fool, and had done ill in one of two
things, either in sitting by the side of his god or in worshipping a mere man.
They that heard this took it as a lesson against flattery. (2449-2490.)
The king who bestows his goods upon flatterers does harm to himself
and his land. There is an example in the Bible. (2491-2526.)
Ahab and Micaiah. 1 Kings xxii. (2527-2694.)
2695-3102. Justice is the third point of Policy. A land is nothing without
men, and men cannot be without law. It is for the king above all others to
guide the law, and though he is above the law, yet he must not do things
which are against it. He must make his own life right towards God, and then
endeavour to rule his people rightly, and he must see that his judges are
both wise and true. (2695-2764.)
Maximin, when he appointed a judge, inquired carefully whether he
were virtuous or no. Thus the course of law was not hindered by coveitise.
(2765-2782.)
Gaius Fabricius, consul of Rome, when the Samnites brought him gold,
tried it with taste and smell, and said he knew not for what it would serve. It
was better, he said, to rule the men who had the gold, than to possess gold
and lose the liberty to be just. (2783-2817.)
In those times none was preferred to the office of judge unless he were a
friend to the common right. (2818-2832.)
Conrad ordered matters so that in his time no man durst set aside the
law for gold. (2833-2844.)
Carmidotoire the consul slew himself rather than allow his own law to
be broken, when by inadvertence he had come armed to the Senate-house.
(2845-2888.)
Cambyses flayed a corrupt judge, and nailed his skin upon the chair
where his son was set to judge in his place. (2889-2904.)
Ligurgius, prince of Athens, having established good laws in his city,
took an oath from the citizens that they would change nothing during his

absence; and so he departed, never to return, desiring that Athens might still
enjoy good laws. (2917-3028.)
The first Lawgivers. The names of those who first made laws ought to
be handed down to fame. They are Moses, Mercurius, Neuma Pompilius,
Ligurgius, Foroneus, Romulus. Kings ought to be led by law, and it is a
scandal to a king if the law be not executed. (3029-3102.)
3103-4214. The fourth point of Policy is Pity. This is the virtue by
which the King of kings was moved when he sent his Son down to this
earth. Every subject should fear his king, and every king should have mercy
on his people. [The apostle James says that he who shows no pity shall find
none. Cassodre says that the kingdom is safe where pity dwells. Tullius that
the king who is overcome by pity bears a shield of victory. We read how a
knight appealed from the wrath of Alexander to his pity and so obtained
grace. (3149*-3179*.)] Constantine said, ‘He who is a servant to pity, is
worthy to rule all else.’ Troian said that he desired his people to obey him
rather from love than fear. (3103-3162.)
[The Pagan and the Jew. Two travellers went through the desert
together, and each asked the other of his belief. The one said, ‘I am a Pagan,
and by my faith I ought to love all men alike and do to others as I would
they should do to me.’ The other, ‘I am a Jew, and by my faith I ought to be
true to no man, except he be a Jew, as I am.’ The day was hot and the Pagan
rode on an ass with his baggage, while the Jew went on foot. The Jew asked
the Pagan to let him ease his weariness by riding, and the other assented. So
they went on, but when the Pagan desired his ass back, the Jew rode on,
saying that thus he did his duty by his law. The Pagan prayed to God to
judge his quarrel, and going on further he found the Jew slain by a lion and
the ass with the baggage standing by him. Thus a man may know how the
pitiful man deserves pity, and that lack of pity is the cause of evil.
(3207*-3360*.)]
Codrus, king of Athens, having a war, was informed by Apollo that
either he must perish in the battle or his people be discomfited. He had pity
upon his people and gave his life for them. Where have we such kings now?
(3163-3214.)
Pompey had war against the king of Ermenie, and having taken him
captive, he gave him his crown again and restored him to his kingdom.

(3215-3248.)
Cruelty is the opposite of Pity. (3249-3266.)
Leoncius the tyrant cruelly cut off the nose and lips of the merciful
Justinian: he was so served himself by Tiberius, and Justinian was restored
to the empire. (3267-3294.)
Siculus the cruel king caused Berillus to make a bull of brass, within
which men should be burnt to death. Berillus was himself the first who
suffered this torture. (3295-3332.)
Dionys fed his horses on man’s flesh and was slain by Hercules. (3341-
3354.)
Lichaon devoured the bodies of his guests and was changed into a wolf.
(3355-3369.)
Tyranny may not last. The Lion will not slay the man who falls down
before him to entreat mercy, and how then ought a Prince to destroy the
man who asks his mercy? Yet some tyrants have been so cruel that Pity
cannot move them. (3370-3416.)
Spertachus, a warrior and a cruel man, made war on the queen
Thameris, and having taken her son prisoner, he slew him without mercy.
The queen gathered a power and took the tyrant in an ambush. Then she
filled a vessel with the blood of his princes and cast him therein, bidding
him drink his fill of blood. (3417-3513.)
A king, however, must not fail to slay in the cause of Justice, and he
must be a champion of his people without any weak pity. If he fears without
cause, he is like those in the fable who were in dread when the Mountain
was in labour, and at length it brought forth a mouse.
As there is a time for peace, so there is also a time for war, and here too
virtue stands between two extremes, between foolish pity and rash cruelty.
Of men who have undertaken war for a righteous cause there are examples
in the Bible, and of those I will tell thee one. (3514-3626.)

Story of Gideon. Judges vii. (3627-3806.)
Saul and Agag. Saul failed to obey God’s command to slay Agag,
showing pity wrongfully: therefore he lost his life and his kingdom. (3807-
3845.)
On the other hand Salomon obeyed his father David’s command in
slaying Joab, and yet he showed mercy in his reign and wrought no tyranny.
Also he was wise and had worthy men about him, and there is nothing
better for a ruler than Wisdom. Salomon asked for this gift from God, and
this it is which a king chiefly needs in order to hold the balance even
between Justice and Pity. (3846-3944.)
Courtiers and Fool. Lucius, king of Rome, asked his steward and his
chamberlain what men said about him. The steward merely flattered in his
reply, but the chamberlain answered that people thought he would be a
worthy king if he had good counsellors. The fool, who played with his
bauble by the fire, laughed at both, and said, ‘If the king were wise, the
council would not be bad.’ Thus the king was instructed and put away his
bad counsellors. (3945-4010.)
Folly of Rehoboam. 1 Kings xii. 1-20. (4027-4129.)
Counsel of young men thus leads to ruin. There is a question whether it
is better that the king be wise or his council. The answer is that it is better to
have wise counsellors. (4130-4180.)
The Emperor Anthonius said he would rather have one of his subjects
saved than a thousand of his enemies slain. Mercy mingled with justice is
the foundation of every king’s rule. Thus I have spoken of four points,
Truth, Largess, Pity and Justice. There is yet a fifth. (4181-4214.)
4215-5397. Chastity, the fifth point of Policy. The male is made for the
female, but one must not desire many. A man must keep the troth he has
plighted in marriage, and this all the more in the high and holy estate of a
king.
Aristotle advised Alexander to frequent the company of fair women, but
not to beguile himself with them. For it is not they who beguile the men, but
the men beguile themselves. The water is not to blame if a man drown
himself in it, nor the gold if men covet it. It is by nature that a man loves,

but not by nature that he loses his wits: that is like frost in July or hose worn
over the shoe. Yet great princes have been thus misled. (4215-4312.)
Sardanapalus lost his kingdom and his honour, because he became
effeminate in his lusts. (4313-4343.)
David, however, though he loved many women, preserved the honour of
knighthood. (4344-4360.)
Cyrus had a war with the Lydians, and he could not conquer them.
Then, feigning, he made a perpetual peace with them, and they fell into
idleness and fleshly lust, so that he subdued them easily. (4361-4405.)
Balaam advised king Amalech to send fair women among the Hebrews,
and these led them into lust, so that they were discomfited in battle, till
Phinees caused them to amend their ways. (4406-4445.)
This virtue of Chastity belongs especially to a king.
Salomon took wives of sundry nations and did idolatry in his folly.
Therefore after his death his kingdom was divided.
Antonie, son of Severus, gave an evil example of lust; and the tale
which here follows will show what is the end of tyranny and lechery. (4446-
4592.)
Tarquin the tyrant had many sons, and among them Arrons. He had a
war with the Gabiens, and to their city Arrons went, showing wounds which
he said he had received from his father and brethren. They took him as their
leader, and he by his father’s advice cut off the heads of their chief men,
and so the Romans conquered the city. They made a solemn sacrifice in the
temple of Phebus, and a serpent came and devoured the offerings and
quenched the fires. Phebus said that this was for the sin and pride of
Tarquin and his son, and that he who should first kiss his mother, should
avenge the wrong. Brutus fell to the ground and kissed his mother Earth.
(4593-4753.)
Tarquin had a war afterwards with Ardea, and they were long at the
siege. A dispute arose between Arrons and Collatin as to the virtue of their
wives, and they rode to Rome to see how they were employed. At the
palace they found the wife of Arrons full of mirth and thinking nothing of
her husband; at the house of Collatin, Lucrece was working with her

women and praying for her husband’s return. Arrons was smitten with love
of her, and returning again the next day he ravished her. She on the morrow
called her husband and her father, with whom came Brutus, and told them
her tale. Refusing their forgiveness she slew herself, and they took the body
into the market-place, where Brutus told the tale to the people. They
remembered also the former evil doings of Tarquin and his son, and sent
both into exile. (4754-5130.)
Virginia. When Appius Claudius was governor of Rome, he set his
desire upon a gentle maid, daughter of Livius Virginius, and he caused his
brother Marcus to claim her unrightfully as his slave. Her father was with
the host, but he rode hastily to Rome; and when Appius adjudged her to his
brother against the law, finding that he could save her from dishonour in no
other way, he thrust her through with his sword and made his way back to
the host. Thus the tyranny came to men’s ears and the unrighteous king was
deposed by the common consent. (5131-5306.)
As an example of chastity in marriage we read the story of Sarra the
daughter of Raguel. Seven men who married her were strangled by the
fiend Asmod, because they took her only for lust; but Thobie, taught by
Raphael, had his will and yet kept the law of marriage. God has bound
beasts by the law of nature only, but men must follow also the law of reason
and do no lechery. Thus the philosopher taught to Alexander. (5307-5397.)
I thank you, father. The tales sound in my ears, but my heart is
elsewhere; for nothing can make me forget my love. Leave all else
therefore, and let us return to our shrift.
Yes, my son, there is one point more, and this is the last. (5398-5438.)

Lib. VIII.
1-198. Laws of Marriage. God created Adam and Eve to repair the loss
of Lucifer and his angels, and bade them increase and multiply. In the first
generation by God’s law brother and sister were joined in marriage, then
afterwards cousin wedded cousin, as in the time of Habraham and Jacob. At
last under Christian law Marriage was forbidden also in the third degree.
Yet some men take no heed to kinship or religion, but go as a cock among

the hens and as a stallion among the mares. Such love may be sweet at first,
but afterwards it is bitter.
199-2008. Examples of Incest. Caligula the Roman Emperor bereft his
three sisters of their virginity: therefore God bereft him of his life and of his
empire.
Amon lay with his sister Thamar, and Absolon his brother took
vengeance upon him.
Lot lay with his daughters, and the stocks which came from them were
not good.
Thus if a man so set his love, he will afterwards sorely repent it; and of
this I think to tell a tale which is long to hear. (199-270.)
Apollonius of Tyre. In a Chronicle called Pantheon I read how king
Antiochus ravished his daughter and lived with her in sin. To hinder her
marriage, he proposed a problem to those who sought her love, and if a man
failed to resolve it, he must lose his head. At length came the Prince
Apollinus of Tyre, and the king proposed to him the question. He saw too
clearly what the riddle meant, and Antiochus fearing shame put off the time
of his reply for thirty days. (271-439.)
The Prince feared his vengeance and fled home to Tyre, and thence he
departed secretly in a ship laden with wheat. Antiochus sent one Taliart in
all haste to Tyre, with command to make away with the Prince by poison.
Finding that Apollinus had fled, he returned.
In the meantime the Prince came to Tharsis, and took lodging there with
one Strangulio and his wife Dionise. The city was suffering famine, and
Apollinus gave them his wheat as a free gift, in return for which they set up
a statue of him in the common place. (440-570.)
A man came to him from Tyre and reported that king Antiochus desired
to slay him. He was afraid and fled thence again by ship. A storm came
upon him and the ship was wrecked: Apollinus alone came alive to land. A
fisherman helped him and directed him to the town of Pentapolim, where he
found the people gathered to see games, and the king and queen of the
country there present. (571-695.)

He surpassed all others in the games, and the king called him to supper
in his hall. At supper he was sad and ate nothing, and the king sent to him
his daughter to console him. To her he told his name and country, and with
that he let the tears run down his cheeks. She fetched a harp and sang to it,
and he took it from her hand and played and sang divinely. They all saw
that he was of gentle blood. (696-799.)
The king’s daughter desired her father that he might be her teacher, and
in the course of time she turned with all her heart to love of him. She so lost
her appetite for meat and drink and sleep that she was in danger of her life.
Three sons of princes demanded her in marriage, and she by letter
informed her father how the matter stood: if she might not have Apollinus,
she would have none other. (800-911.)
The king sent for Apollinus and showed him his daughter’s letter. He
assented gladly, and the marriage took place with great festivity. Soon after
this men came from Tyre reporting that Antiochus and his daughter were
dead, having been both struck by lightning, and entreating him to return to
his own people. All were rejoiced to hear that the king’s daughter had
married so worthy a prince. (912-1019.)
Apollinus sailed away with his wife, she being with child. A storm arose
and she began to be in travail. In anguish she was delivered of a maid child,
but she herself lay dead. (1020-1058.)
Apollinus sorrowed as never man sorrowed before, but the master of the
ship required that the dead body be cast out of the ship, because the sea will
not hold within itself any dead creature, and the ship would be driven on the
shore if the body remained within her. They made therefore a coffer closely
bound with iron and covered with pitch, in which they placed the corpse,
with gold and jewels, and with a letter praying that she might receive burial;
and so they cast it overboard. Apollinus in the meantime sailed first to
Tharsis. (1059-1150.)
The coffer was cast up at Ephesim and was found by Cerymon, a great
physician. He by his art restored the seeming corpse to life, and she took
upon herself the rule of religion and dwelt with other women in the temple
of Diane. (1151-1271.)

Apollinus coming to Tharsis entrusted his infant daughter Thaise to the
care of Strangulio and Dionise, and so he sailed on to Tyre. This daughter,
until she was fourteen years old, grew up with the daughter of Strangulio,
but Thaise was preferred to the other in all places where they went, and
Dionise was therefore wroth. She bade her bondman Theophilus take
Thaise down to the shore of the sea and there slay her. He brought her to the
sea, but her cry called forth pirates from their hiding-place, who carried her
with them away to Mitelene and sold her to Leonin, master of a brothel.
(1272-1423.)
The young men who came to her were moved by compassion and did
her no wrong, so that Leonin sent his own servant in to her. She entreated to
be permitted to make gain for him in some other way, and being taken from
the brothel and placed in security, she taught such things as gentlewomen
desire to learn, and her name went forth over all the land. (1424-1497.)
Theophilus reported that he had slain Thaise, and Dionise, pretending
that she had died suddenly, made a great funeral and set up a tomb with an
epitaph. After this, Apollinus came to seek for his daughter at Tharsis, and
hearing that she was dead, he put forth to sea again in grievous sorrow. He
lay weeping alone in the darkness of the ship’s hold, until under stress of
storm they came to Mitelene. (1498-1617.)
Hearing of his grief, the lord of the city, Athenagoras, sent Thaise to
comfort him. He at first rejected all her consolation, but then to his joy
discovered that she was the daughter for whom he mourned. Athenagoras
asked for her in marriage and was wedded to her. (1618-1776.)
They went forth all together with intent to avenge the treason at Tharsis,
but Apollinus was warned in a dream to go to Ephesim, and there in the
temple of Diane he found the wife whom he supposed to have been dead.
Thence they voyaged to Tyre and were received with joy. Athenagoras and
Thaise were there crowned king and queen, and Apollinus sailed away and
took due vengeance upon Strangulio and Dionise. (1777-1962.)
When this was done, a letter came to him from Pentapolim, praying him
to come and receive that kingdom, since the king was dead. They had a
good voyage thither, and he and his wife were crowned there and led their
life happily. (1963-2008.)

Thus, my son, thou mayest see how it is with those that love in a good
manner, but it is not love when men take their lust like beasts.
2029-3172. Conclusion. Father, I may acquit myself in this, but I
entreat your counsel as to what way I shall follow in my love.
I counsel thee, my son, to labour no more in things which bring thee no
profit. The end of every pleasure is pain. Love is blind, and makes all his
servants blind: thou mayest yet withdraw and set thyself under the law of
reason.
It is easy to say so, father. My woe is but a game to you, feeling nothing
of that which I feel. The hart that goes free knows not the sorrows of the ox
under the yoke. But I entreat you to present for me a Supplication to Venus
and Cupid, and bring me a good answer back. (2009-2188.)
Then arose a great debate between my Priest and me: my reason
understood him well, but my will was against him. At length he agreed to
deliver my Supplication, and with tears instead of ink I wrote the letter thus:
‘The wofull peine of loves maladie,’ &c. (2189-2300.)
The Priest went forth to present my petition, and I abode. Suddenly
Venus stood by me, and I fell upon my knee and prayed her to do me grace.
‘What is thy name?’ she said, as if in game. ‘John Gower,’ I replied. ‘I have
read thy bill,’ she said, ‘in which thou hast complained to Nature and to me.
Nature is mistress where she will, and I excuse thee for following her law:
but as for what thou sayest, that I am bound to relieve thee, because thou
hast served in my Court, I will give thee medicine that will heal thy heart,
but perchance it will not be such as thou desirest.’ (2301-2376.)
Half in scorn she spoke to me of my age and hoary locks, and
counselled me to make a ‘beau retret,’ while there was yet time; for even
though I should attain to my desire, I could not hold covenant duly with
love.
I grew cold suddenly for sorrow of my heart, and lay swooning on the
ground. Then methought I saw Cupid with his bow bent, and with him a
great company, those gentle folk who once were lovers, arrayed in sundry
bands. (2377-2459.)
Youth was the leader of one company, and these had garlands, some of
the leaf and some of the flower. They went with piping and with song which

resounded all about: they laughed and danced and played, and talked of
knighthood and of ladies’ love. There was Tristram with Ysolde, Lancelot
with Gunnore, Jason with Creusa, Hercules with Eole, Troilus with
Criseide, but in his mirth he was yet heavy of cheer because of Diomede.
Those also I saw who died for love, as Narcissus, Piramus, Achilles; and the
women who were forsaken, Dido, Phillis, Adriagne, Deianire and Medea.
Many others too I saw, but four women especially who were most
commended as examples in marriage, Penolope, Lucrece, Alceste and
Alcione. Youth, which led this company, took no heed of me. (2460-2665.)
Then came Eld, leading a company not so great. Their music was low
and their dancing soft: they smiled, but they did not laugh aloud. There was
David with Bersabee, and Salomon with his wives and concubines,
Sampson with Dalida, and Aristotle with the queen of Greece; Virgil also
and Plato and Ovid the poet. (2665-2725.)
When this company was come to the place where I lay, they entreated
Venus for me, and even some of the younger band said that it was great pity.
Cupid came with Venus to me as I lay, and the lovers all pressed round to
see. Some said that love was folly in the old, and others that no age could
be free, and that while there was yet oil in the lamp, it might always be set
alight. Cupid groped after me till he found me, and then he drew forth that
fiery lance which before he had cast through my heart, and Venus anointed
my wound with a cooling ointment and gave me a mirror in which I might
behold myself. I saw my face wrinkled and my eyes dim, and I likened
myself to that time of year when winter has despoiled the earth. Then
Reason returned to me and I was made sober and sound. (2726-2869.)
Venus beheld me, and laughing asked me what Love was. I answered
with confusion that I knew him not, and prayed that I might be excused
from my attendance on her Court. As touching my Confession too, I asked
an absolution, and the Priest gave it readily. Then the queen delivered to me
a pair of beads to hang about my neck, and on them was written Por
reposer in gold. ‘Thus,’ said she, ‘have I provided for thine ease, and my
will is that thou pray for peace. Stay no more in my Court, but go where
moral virtue dwells, where are those books which men say that thou hast
written: thou and I must commune together never again.OAdieu, for I must
go from thee.’ And so enveloped in a starry cloud, Venus was taken to her
place above, and her Priest departed also at the same time. I stood for a

while amazed; and then I smiled, thinking of the beads that she had given
me and of the prayers that I should say. And thus I took my way softly
homeward. (2870-2970.)
To God, the Creator of all things, I pray for the welfare of this land, and
that it may have peace and unity, which every estate should desire. I pray
that the clergy may work after the rule of charity, that the order of
knighthood may cause extortion to cease and defend the right of the
Church, that merchants may follow honesty, and above all that the king may
keep himself and all the other estates of the kingdom in the right way. The
king who humbly follows the law of God shall be blessed, and his name
shall be remembered for ever. (2971-3105.)
I promised to make in English a book between play and earnest, and
now I ask that I may be excused for lack of curious skill. I have written in
rude plain words, as sickness and age would suffer me; and I pray my lords
that I may stand in their grace, for I desire to do pleasure to those under
whose rule I am. (3106-3137.)
And now my Muse bids me rest and write no more of love, which turns
the heart away from reason. Of this love then I take my final leave. But that
love which stands confirmed by charity, which may save the body and
amend the soul, such love may God send us, that in heaven our joy may be
without end. (3138-3172.)

iv. Orthography and Phonology.—In the remarks upon Gower’s
language which here follow there is no systematic completeness. Attention
is called to such points as seem to be important or interesting, reference
being made especially to the language of Chaucer, as dealt with in B. ten
Brink’s Chaucers Sprache und Verskunst (second edition, 1899). It is
necessary perhaps to remark here upon a difference of procedure which
distinguishes this investigation from those which have for their object the
text of Chaucer or of other writers whose work is handed down to us in
manuscripts which do not proceed from the author himself. In such cases
we have first to ascertain what the author actually wrote, before we can
draw any valid conclusions about the laws of his language. It may even be
necessary to restrict the discussion to such forms as are authenticated by
rhyme; but when we are compelled to do this, we must remember that we

are accepting a rather dangerous limitation. The conclusions drawn from the
rhyme-words of a Middle English author will probably not be precisely
applicable to his language in general. The sphere of our investigations will
be that in which the licentious and exceptional is most likely to be found. If
he has any tendency to borrow from other dialects than his own or to use
irregular forms, this tendency will be most seen in his rhymes, for it will
probably be the exigencies of rhyme which suggest the variation. Chaucer
repeatedly uses ‘here,’ in the sense of the modern ‘her,’ to rhyme with such
words as ‘bere,’ ‘spere,’ but we should certainly not be justified in
concluding that this and not ‘hire’ was the normal form of his language.
Similarly in the case of Gower by examination of his rhymes alone we
might be led to many very doubtful results. For example, we should gather
that he almost always used the form sinne rather than senne, wile (verb) and
not wole or wol, axe and not aske, sek (adj.) and never sik, hond and never
hand, couthe and never coude, sente (pret.) rather than sende, the adverb
ending -ly in preference to -liche or -lich. In these cases and in many others
we might easily be misled, the forms of these words as used in rhyme being
determined chiefly by the comparative frequency of the various rhyme-
syllables. Most of the conclusions above mentioned, and others like them,
have in fact been arrived at in a paper by K. Fahrenberg, published in the
Archiv für die neueren Sprachen, vol. 89. The author of this paper, having
only Pauli’s text before him, very properly confines himself to an
examination of the rhymes, and within these limits most of his results are
sound enough; but it would be very unsafe to treat them as generally
applicable to the language of Gower. In our case it must be understood that
the Fairfax manuscript is regarded (for reasons which will afterwards be
stated) as a practically accurate reproduction of the author’s original text,
and consequently the occurrence of a particular form in rhyme is not held
necessarily to be of any special significance.

Orthography.—This being premised, we shall proceed to note first
some points which call for attention in the orthography of the text.
In describing the British Museum MS. Harl. 3869, Pauli takes occasion
to observe: ‘This copy is very remarkable on account of its orthography,
which has been carried through almost rigorously according to simple and
reasonable principles.’ This system he appears to attribute to the copyist of

the manuscript in question, but it is in fact that of the author, the text being
copied very faithfully from the Fairfax manuscript itself. Pauli appears to
have been repelled by the outward appearance of this ‘small stout folio’
with its rather untidy writing. He did not take the trouble to examine the
Oxford copies; but he seems to have perceived that its orthography was the
same as that of the Stafford manuscript, and this should have enlightened
him. In fact, if instead of taking Berthelette as his basis, he had simply
printed the text of the Harleian volume, there would hardly have been need
of another edition.
The orthography of the Fairfax text, first hand, confirmed as it is in
almost every particular by that of the Stafford manuscript, and supported
also by the testimony of others, more especially of MS. Bodley 902, may be
assumed to be that of the author; and it is well worthy of our attention, for
he evidently regarded exactness and consistency in spelling as a matter of
some importance.
We may observe in the first place that it was not Gower’s practice to
mark vowel-length by doubling the vowel. Naturally there are some MSS.
in which this is occasionally found, and in particular the third hand of A
gives caas, paas, glaade, maade, saake, waas, bee, breeþ, soo, aroos,
moore, schoon, ooþer, toold, &c. with considerable frequency, while very
many MSS. have book, look, took, oon, heere, mateere, and some other
forms of the same kind; but this is not in accordance with the author’s rule.
In the Fairfax MS. the cases of doubled vowel are only occasional, except
in the instance of good, which is thus regularly distinguished from god.
Of oo there are very few cases except good. We have oon about three times for on,
and blood, brood, cooste, do (=doe), foode, hool, schoo, too (=toe), woot, in isolated
instances. The doubling of e is more frequent, as beere, cheeke, cleene, dee (pl. dees),
degree, eem, eer, fee, feede, feer, feere, feet, greene, meene, meete, pees, queene,
scheete, see (subst.), seene, slee, spreede, thee, tree, weer, weere, wreeche, ȝee, ȝeer,
and a few more. Most of the above words, however, and in general all others, are
written usually with a single vowel, and we have quite regularly (for example) ded,
dede, drem, ek, fend, fre, gret, hed, her (=hair), lef, red, slep, bok, bon, brod, fol, gon,
hot, lok, non, schon, sone (soon), tok, wok, and so on. Where there is variation of
spelling in this respect, it is not felt to be a matter which concerns the rhyme; for we
have weer: pouer, pees: reles, sene: meene, there: feere, good: stod, fode: goode, do:
schoo, &c., though sometimes the spelling of the rhyme-words is evidently brought
into harmony, as meene: Almeene, ii. 2465 f., beere: weere, iv. 1323 f., brood: good, v.
4375 f., goode: foode, vii. 519 f. In a few cases however a phonetic distinction seems
to be intended, as when we find eet as preterite of ete, and beere (also bere) pret. plur.
of beren.

Maii (the month) is regularly written with ii, but rhymes with mai, gay, &c.

The doubling of final consonants, apparently to indicate vowel
shortness, is more common, as in all, bladd, charr, hadd, happ, madd, bedd,
fedd, fett, spedd, bitt, bridd, chidd, godd, rodd, beside al, char, had, hap,
mad, bed, fet, &c.
The doubling of s in a final tone syllable seems to have no such significance, as in
Achilles: press, iv. 2161 f., but Ulixes: pres, iv. 147 f., so natheles: encress, pes:
encress, in all of which the vowel must be long.

One of the most noteworthy points of the orthography is the frequent
use of ie in tonic syllables for close ē. This appears in French words such as
achieve, appiere, chief, chiere, clier, grieve, matiere, messagier, pier, &c.
(also in many of these cases e, as chere, cler, matere), but it is very
commonly used also in words of English origin and seems invariably to be
associated with the close sound of the vowel. Thus we have hiede, spriede,
lief (but levere), sieke, diel, stiel, whiel, dieme, sieme, diere, fiere (=
company), hiere (adv.), hiere (verb), liere, stiere, and others, which have in
most cases the alternative spelling with e, as hede, sprede, seke, del, stel,
whel, deme, seme, &c., but in all of which the vowel has the close sound.
It is impossible here to discuss the question how far this habit of
spelling may have been introduced by analogy from French words with a
similar sound of the vowel, and how far it may have grown out the Kentish
use of ie, ye for O. E. ēo, ē, īe. Reference may be made to the remarks in the
Introduction to the volume of Gower’s French Works, p. xxi, where it is
suggested that ie, having lost its value as a diphthong in later Anglo-
Norman, came to be regarded as a traditional symbol in many cases for
close ē, and hence such forms as clier, clief, pier, prophiete, &c., and as
regards ie in the Kentish dialect there is a useful statement in the paper by
W. Heuser, Zum Kentischen Dialekt im Mittelenglischen, published in
Anglia, xvii, 78 ff.
In any case the fact is pretty clear that this variation was confined by
Gower to words in which he gave to the vowel a close sound, and it is
therefore useful as a distinguishing note, though there are few words in
which this is the only form of spelling.
Both in stems of words and in their terminations i is on the whole
preferred to y, so that we have crie, hide, lif, like, mile, ride, &c. more

usually than crye, hyde, &c. (but perhaps y more often after m, n, as knyht,
myhte, nyht), and also arrai, mai, dai, hardi, ladi, worþi, mi, thi, more often
on the whole than array, may, &c., but -ly in adverbs more often than -li.
In some few cases it seems that a distinction is pretty consistently made,
as between wryte (inf.) and write (past participle), and perhaps between wite
(know) and wyte (blame).
Before gh followed by t we find a, o almost regularly in place of au, ou.
Thus we have aghte, straghte, taghte, boghte, broghte, doghter, noght,
oghte, oght, soghte, wroghte, &c., but occasionally broughte, doughter,
ought, &c. Beside some of these there are forms in which au (aw), ou (ow)
are written, but followed by simple h, as strawhte, tawhte, douhter
(dowhter).
There is no difference between -oun and -on as terminations of such French words
as divisioun, complexioun, &c., but -oun is much the more usual formP. Where they
occur in rhyme, the rhyme-words are usually assimilated to one another in form of
spelling, but sometimes -oun, -on rhyme together, as division: doun, ii. 1743 f., toun:
condicion, v. 2551, constellacioun: relacion, vi. 2253 f.
In the case of an followed by a consonant in a tone-syllable the variation to aun
seems to be merely a question of spelling, and we have such rhymes as chaunce:
remembrance, ii. 893 f., demande: comaunde, iv. 2794, supplanted: enchaunted, ii.
2491, covenant: supplaunt, ii. 2367. In the French terminations -ance, -ant, the simple
form is decidedly preferred (but governaunce: porveaunce, Prol. 187 f., graunt:
amblaunt, ii. 1505 f.), and so also in many other words, as change, strange, comande,
demande, supplante (also comaunde, supplaunte). In other cases au is either the usual
or the only form, as daunce, daunte, enchaunte, haunte, sclaundre.

With regard to the consonants, it should be observed that Gower
consistently wrote sch for sh initially, so that we have regularly schal,
schape, sche, schewe, schip, schrifte, and also lordschipe, worschipe, &c.Q,
in other places usually ssh, as bisshop (also bisschop), buissh, fissh, fleissh
(also fleisch), freissh, reisshe, wisshe.
The almost regular use of h for gh in such words as hih, nyh, sih, kniht,
liht, miht, niht, heihte, sleihte, &c. will be spoken of later.
Gower did not use ȝ for h or gh. Such forms as miȝte, riȝt, uȝte, wrouȝt,
are practically unknown in the best MSS. (F has nouȝt once.) On the other
hand initially in such words as ȝe, ȝer, ȝive (forȝive), ȝong, &c., ȝ is
regularly used. Only late and inferior MSS. have y. In regard to this letter
Gower’s usage is exactly the reverse of that which we find in the Ayenbite

of Inwyt. We have þ for th regularly except in the case of a capital letter
being required, as at the beginning of a line, or in connexion with some
foreign words and names as thalemans, thevangile, rethorique, Athemas,
Anthenor, Thebith. Cases of th for þ in ordinary English words are very rare
in F (but i. 2890, v. 2319, vii. 4203).
In some words there is an interchange of c and s, as decerte, pourchace
pourchase, service servise, rancoun, suffice suffise, sufficant, &c., and the French
termination -esse is also spelt -esce, as largesse largesce, simplesce simplesse; so also
encresce, redresce, &c. In such points the orthography of Romance words is usually
in accordance with that which we find in the author’s French writings, in which also
are found such etymological forms as deceipte, doubte.

Before quitting the general subject, we ought to note certain words of
common occurrence which are spelt not quite in the usual way. The author
regularly writes bot for but, be for by, when used as a preposition and
unemphatic, ous for us (pers. pron.), noght for not (not being used for ne
wot). Some forms of proper names, as Habraham, Irahel, are characteristic.
In these points, as in many others, the writer evidently followed a definite
system, and in spite of the variations recorded, the orthography of the
Fairfax and Stafford MSS. certainly conveys to the reader the general
impression of regularity and consistency.

Phonology. (1) O. E. short vowels and diphthongs.
O. E. a, æ, ea. In the case of a (o) before a lengthening nasal
combination, ld, nd, mb, ng, &c., we may note that though hond, honde,
hondes are preferred, as by Chaucer, yet hand, handes pretty frequently
occur, as i. 2, 1807, 2994, ii. 574, iii. 116, v. 1505, &c. (also handle, iii.
1956, v. 1949), and that without any necessity of rhyme. In fact hand seems
to be rather preferred except in rhyme. Contrary to what is apparently
Chaucer’s usage we find thonk, thonke as the regular forms in Gower, and
only occasionally thank, as ii. 60, 2012. This may be due to the Kentish
tendency to lengthen before nk, which perhaps was pronounced nearly as ng
(see Morsbach, Mittelengl. Gramm., p. 128), and in this connexion we may
note the fact that the Fairfax MS. twice has þong for þonk. On the other
hand there is no definite trace of the principle which has been discovered in
some of the Kentish texts of lengthening before these combinations when a
vowel follows, while preserving a when the consonant group ends the word,

honde, stonde, þonke, &c., but hand, stand, þankR. Gower uses handes as
well as hand, and interchanges hange and honge, sang and song, according
to convenience.
Note that upon rhymes freely with on (= one), anon, gon, &c., but the supposed
rhyme on (ăn): mone, i. 2179, noted by Fahrenberg, is really one (ān): mone. In some
cases of original ǣ shortened to æ Gower prefers e to a, as eny, only occasionally any,
eddre beside addre, but lesse, ledde only for the sake of rhyme.

ea before h becomes ī in sih (from seah, sæh, pret. of sēon), which in
Gower is the usual form of the word, æg forms ai (ay), as in dai, lay, mai,
fain, slain, and other ai forms, which are not interchangeable with ei (but
said with variant seid by influence of seie).

O. E. e. When we are dealing with so careful a rhymer as Gower, we
need hardly remark upon the absolute distinction made between ę̄ derived
from O. E. ĕ and ẹ̄ of whatever origin. The case of skiereþ: hiereþ, cited by
Fahrenberg as an instance of the opposite, cannot be regarded as a real
exception, in view of the uncertain derivation of skiere. His other cases of
supposed ę : ẹ are instances of the pret. pl. spieke (speke), from sprǣcon, as
spieke : beseke, ii. 959, sieke : spieke, ii. 1455. One is doubtful, viz. seke :
mispeke, ii. 2007, where mispeke may be pret. subjunctive; and besides
these, undergete: flete, ii. 1133 f. is irregular.
There is, however, also a well-marked distinction between new-
lengthened ę̄ in words like trede, stede, bere, spere, &c., forȝete, gete,
begete (inf. and partic.), mete (subst.), &c., and ę̄ from ǣ or ēa, the
distinction being due presumably to imperfect lengthening. With the first
class rank also words in which e is derived from O. E. y in open syllables,
as lere (loss) from O. E. lyre, stere (stir) from styrian, dede (pret.) from
dyde, and also e in answere.
Thus we find the following quite distinct sets of rhymes: bede, forbede (past
participles), bede (subst.), dede (pret. = did), stede (stead), trede, forming one class
and rhyming together, while they are kept entirely apart from threde, drede, dede (=
dead), rede, pl. adj. (= red), which have ę̄ from ēa or ǣ. On the other hand, bede the
pret. plur. of bidde (from bǣdon) rhymes with dede (dead), e.g. i. 2047.
So also answere, bere (subst.), bere (verb inf.), forbere, dere (destroy), lere (loss),
stere (stir), bestere, swere (verb), tere (verb), were (wear), were (defend), form one
class of rhyme-words as against ere, fere (fear), there, were (from wǣron), &c. But
eere (verb) from erian rhymes with there, v. 819 f., and scheres with teres, v. 5691.

The case of bere rhyming with were (from wǣron), i. 2795 f., vii. 1795 f., is not an
exception to the rule, being the preterite plural, from bǣron.
Another group is chele, fele (many), hele (cover), stele, wele, as against hele
(heal), dele, &c.: but we find hele (hǣlo): hele (helan), iii. 2755 f.
Again we have ete, gete (inf. and partic.), begete, forȝete, mete (meat), sete (past
partic.), kept apart from grete (great), bete (beaten), strete, tete, lete (lǣtan), swete
(verb, = sweat), threte, whete, &c. It may be noted that beȝete (subst.) belongs to the
class grete, bete, &c.
There is every reason to suppose that the same distinction would hold with other
endings, in the case of which no sufficient rhyme-test is forthcoming, as breke, speke
(inf.), wreke (inf. and past partic.), which have no other words with ę̄ with which they
could be rhymed, eke, seke, meke, &c., all having ẹ̄.

On the whole we may say that this distinction is very carefully kept in
Gower’s rhymes, and must certainly indicate a difference of pronunciation.
The adverb wel, also written wiel, has a double sound, as in Chaucer,
either ę̄ or ẹ̄, rhyming with del (diel), stiel, whiel, &c., and also with
naturel, Daniel, and the substantive wel for wele.
eg forms ei, which is often interchangeable with ai, as seie, leie, weie,
aȝein.

O. E. i. There is nothing in Gower’s rhymes to lend support to the
theory that i from O. E. ĭ in open syllables (i.e. before a single consonant
followed by a vowel), as in the past participles write, drive, schrive, and the
infinitives ȝive, wite, is of doubtful quantity. The past participle and plural
preterite write have ĭ and rhyme with wite (know), while the infinitive wryte
rhymes with wyte (blame), verb and substantive: the infinitives live, ȝive,
forȝive and the participles drive, ȝive, schrive, &c. rhyme among themselves
and not with schryve (inf.), alyve, fyve: the short vowel words wile (verb),
skile, bile are separate from wyle (subst.), whyle, ile, &c. This would not be
worth mentioning but for ten Brink’s argument (Chaucers Sprache, §§ 35,
325), based on the very smallest positive evidence.
hire (hir) is used regularly for the personal and possessive pronoun of
the third person sing. fem. (= her), and never here, as is Chaucer’s usage in
rhyme.
cherche is Gower’s regular form from cirice, but chirche is common in
the orthography of the Praise of Peace, e.g. 197, 210, 225, &c., beside

cherche, 232, 254.

O. E. o. wolde, scholde, golde, molde rhyme with tolde, holde, colde,
&c., but in open syllables a distinction is observed (as in the case of e)
between new-lengthened ǭ and ǭ from O. E. ā, so that tofore, before,
therfore, score and the participles bore, forbore, lore, schore, swore are kept
separate in rhyme from such words as hore, more, lore (subst.), ore, rore,
sore, to which later group should be added More (Moor), and the Romance
verb restoreS. This distinction seems to be recognized by Chaucer, cp.
Troilus, v. 22-26, but with a good many exceptions, as Legend of Good
Women, 452 f., 550 f., 1516 f., Cant. Tales, A 1541 f., 3237 f., &c., chiefly,
but not exclusively, in the case of more. Gower is very much stricter and
allows very few exceptions (overmore: tofore, i. 3361 f., nomore: therfore,
vii. 3279* f., more: therfore, vii. 3869 f., more: fore, viii. 991 f.), which
must be regarded as imperfect rhymes. Considering the frequency with
which words of these two classes occur in rhyme, it is remarkable that the
distinction should be so well kept.
We may note that bowe (subst.) from boga rhymes with words like
knowe, in which ow is from āw.

O. E. u. In some words o and u interchange, as begonne begunne, conne
cunne, coppe cuppe, dronkeschipe drunkeschipe, further forther, ronne
(over)runne, sonne sunne, thurgh thorgh(soght), tonge tunge, tonne tunne,
&c., but we have without variation, bole, hunger, note (nut), some, under,
wonder, &c. The regular rhyme under: wonder is enough to show that the
sound was the same.
love, above rhyme together and not with any other word. (For the rhyme
at v. 7047 f., see under ō.)
sone (from sunu), wone (custom), astone, rhyme only with one another:
in the rhyme wones: ones, which occurs iv. 2217 f., viii. 611 f., we have to
do of course with a different word.
dore (door) rhymes with spore and dore (subjunctive of dar), bole with
wole (verb).

O. E. y. This is usually represented by e (except before h, gh), e.g.
abegge, berie, berthe, besy, bregge, dede (did), evel, felle (also fille), felthe,
ferst, fest, hell (also hill, hull), ken (also kin), kende (usually kinde), kesse
(also kisse), knette, krepel, lere, lest (listen), lest (= pleases, also list), mende
(also minde), merie, merthe, pet (also pitt, put), scherte, schetten, senne
(also sinne), stere (stir), thenke (from þyncan), werche (also worche), werse
(also worse): to these must be added hedde, hed, pret. and past partic. of
hyde, in which original ȳ was shortened (also hidde, hid). On the other
hand, we have gilt (also gult), gultif, lifte (sky), stinten (not stenten), thinne
(not thenne), thurste, wierdes. Gower does not use the forms birthe, bisy,
dide (did), mirie, mirthe, stire.
The results obtained for certain words from rhymes by FahrenbergT are
rather misleading. For example, he suggests the conclusion that fille (subst.)
and fulfille are used with i only, but of the nineteen instances which he
quotes, all but two are in rhyme with wille, a natural combination (at least
for fulfille), and one which has determined the form in most cases. Apart
from this, both felle (subst.) and fulfelle are found (felle in rhyme, iii. 2609).
Again, senne is much more common than would appear from the
rhymes. Fahrenberg can quote only one instance in rhyme, as against
twenty-nine of sinne, but this is certainly due to the greater frequency of the
words (such as beginne, winne, &c.), which give rhymes to sinne. The word
occurs seven times in the Prologue, once it is in rhyme, Sinne : inne, and of
the other six instances five are of senne and one only of sinne. On the other
hand, hell (from hyll) alone appears in rhyme, but hill or hull are commoner
forms in use.
The mistakes tell both ways, but on the whole the conclusion that i is
much commoner than e in these words is seriously incorrect.
For the use in rhyme of the words of this class with open tone syllable,
as stere, lere (from lyre), see under e.

(2) O. E. long vowels and diphthongs.
O. E. ā. The ǭ of hom rhymes, as in Chaucer, with the ọ̄ of the preterites
com, nom, and also fom with nom, v. 4007. These must be regarded as
imperfect rhymes, due to the want of strictly correct rhyme-words. Gower

has regularly most (O. E. māst) and but once in rhyme mest (O. E. mǣst),
lest : althermest, i. 3101 f.: also regularly oght, noght, and oghte (verb), but
tawht : awht, i. 2770, and aghte : betaghte, viii. 747.

O. E. ǣ. This, when representing West-Germanic ā, Gothic ē, appeared
as ē in the Old Anglian and Kentish dialects, and might naturally be
expected to be sometimes close e in the language of Chaucer and Gower. It
is well known that Chaucer uses many of the words which have this vowel
in a variable manner.
The same is true to some extent also in words where the original ǣ
corresponds to Germanic ai, and in which we find Old Kentish ē. Of these
leden, clene, menen, leeren appear in Chaucer sometimes with ẹ̄ (and evere,
nevere always). For these and some other cases see ten Brink, Chaucers
Sprache, § 25.
When we compare Chaucer’s usage with that which we find in our
author, we find what our former experience has prepared us to expect, viz. a
greater strictness and regularity of usage in Gower. The examples of
fluctuation between the two sounds are comparatively few.
Taking first the words in which ē is from ǣ corresponding to West-Germanic ā,
we find the following with ę̄:
bede (pret. pl.), from bǣdon, (dede : bede, i. 2047 f.).
breth (: deth, i. 119, 2127, &c.).
fere, ‘fear,’ (: ere, i. 462, ii. 46).
her, ‘hair,’ (heres : teres, i. 2999).
lete, from lǣtan, (: grete, i. 3365, &c.).
lewed (: thewed, i. 274, beschrewed, iii. 479).
sete, pret. pl., (sete : grete, iv. 1309), but siete (not in rhyme), v. 3339.
strete (: grete, i. 938, bete, i. 1156).
there (: ere, i. 499, 558, &c.), but also there : swere (neck), iv. 859, and hiere
(adv.) : there, Praise of Peace, 178.
were, from wǣron, (: ere, Prol. 235, i. 2808, &c.), but also ẹ̄ in a few instances, as
hiere (verb): were, i. 2741 f., hiere (adv.): were, v. 747 f.
where (e.g. elleswhere: eere, Prol. 9), but here (adv.): elleswhere, v. 361 f.
The substantive and verb red, rede rhyme about equally with ẹ̄ and ę̄, the latter
cases being almost all with ded, dede (dead, sing. and pl.), as i. 1446, iv. 1940, 1960,

&c. On the other hand, rede : hiede, i. 447 f., rede : spede, i. 1293 f., ii. 103 f., &c.,
red : sped, iii. 1991 f.
The following words of this class have as a rule ẹ̄:
cheke (chieke) (: mieke, v. 2471, eke, v. 3019).
dede, ‘deed,’ (: fede, Prol. 465, mede, i. 1553, &c., spede, i. 2653, &c., ȝede, ii.
855, forbiede, iii. 1122), but dede (dead): dede, i. 1037 f.
drede (: nede, i. 1987, 2240U, : spede, iv. 629, : hiede, iv. 1448, &c.), but dede
(dead) : drede, ii. 3405 f., drede : rede (from rēad), iv. 185 f.
leche (: seche, ii. 3220, beseche, iii. 413).
meete, ‘dream,’ (: meete, from mētan, iii. 51).
mete (unmete), adj. (: mete, from mētan, ii. 458, iii. 1100).
slep, slepe, subst. and verb, (kepe : slepe, Prol. 309 f., 475 f., slep : kep, i. 155,
&c.), but slep : hep (hēap), iv. 3007 f.
speche (spieche) (: seche, Prol. 174, beseche, i. 1986).
spieke (speke), from sprǣcon, pret. pl. (: beseke, ii. 959, sieke, ii. 1456).
thred (: sped, i. 1419).
ȝer, ȝere, (ȝere : stiere, ii. 2379, ȝer : hier, iii. 129, ȝeeres : pleiefieres, iv. 481),
with no instances apparently of ę̄.
If we take now the words in which ē is from ǣ corresponding to Germanic ai, we
obtain the following results.
With ę̄:
er (: ner, ii. 2285).
geth (: deth, ii. 1804, 2616, &c.).
lene, ‘lend,’ (: bene, v. 4407).
leve, ‘remain,’ (: bereve, Prol. 412).
se (see), ‘sea,’ (: stree, iii. 86, iv. 1715, sle, iv. 1664), but be : se, iv. 1625 f.,
me : see, viii. 1723 f.
ȝe (ȝee), ‘yea,’ (: slee, iii. 262, 2068, stree, iii. 668).
(stre, slee, have no ẹ̄ rhymes, so we have no reason to suppose, as in the case of
Chaucer, that final ē has a close sound.)
With ẹ̄:
areche, from ārǣcan, (: beseche, ii. 666).
clene (: sene, ii. 3461).
del (diel), somdiel, &c. (: whiel, Prol. 137, stiel, Prol. 612, 828).
evere, nevere, (: levere, Prol. 38, ii. 5, ii. 2417, &c.).
-hede (-hiede) as a suffix: hiede : godhiede, Prol. 497 f., cp. i. 1211 f., 1719 f., v.
595 f., viii. 95 f., mede : wommanhiede, iii. 1607 f., wommanhiede : fiede, vi. 695 f.,

maidenhede : spede, vii. 5145 f., viii. 1419 f., and so on, but once ę̄,
Maidenhede : rede (from rēad), v. 5987.
hete, subst. and verb, ‘heat,’ (: swete, ‘sweet,’ ii. 2740, vi. 249), but hete : tobete,
iii. 121 f., hete : bete, viii. 1195 f.
lede (: hiede, v. 156, : fede, vii. 2336*), but dede (dead) : lede, ii. 2779 f.
lere (liere), from lǣran, (: hiere, verb, i. 454, iii. 2204, v. 2029, diere, viii. 1462,
hiere (adv.), viii. 1497, unliered : stiered, Prol. 233 f.).
mene (meene), verb, (: sene, ii. 2830, iv. 1645, wene, i. 1937, &c., grene, i. 777,
&c., tene, iii. 771, queene, iv. 786).
sprede (spriede) (: fede, i. 2824, spede, ii. 504, spredeth : nedeth, v. 7679 f.,
feedeth, vi. 895 f.), but sprede : hede (head), vii. 845 f.
teche (: beseche, i. 590, 2260, iii. 132).

The above are the results arrived at by examination of the rhymes with
vowels of undoubted quality; i.e. ę̄ from O. E. ēa, and ẹ̄ from O. E. ē, ēo, īe.
In addition to this, an investigation has been made of the rhyming of these
words among themselves and with words of Romance origin, in the process
of which some additional words with ē from ǣ, as dele, hele, swete, ‘sweat,’
wete, are brought in. This cannot here be given in full, but it may be said
that in almost all points it confirms the results arrived at above. A few
words, however, to which an open vowel is assigned above, rhyme with
other words from ǣ which almost certainly have ẹ̄, and therefore must be
set as having unstable pronunciation. Thus, in spite of the rhyme lene
(lend) : bene mentioned above, we have lene : mene (both verb and subst.)
and lene : clene, and though fere rhymes more than once with ere, we have
lered : afered and unlered : afered, which suggest that the close sound was
possible.
On the whole we may set down the following as the result of our
examination.
With open vowel: of the ǣ (ē) class, bede, pret. pl., breth, her (pl.
heres), lete, lewed, strete: of the ā = ai class, er, geth, leve (remain), ȝee
(yea).
With close vowel: of the former class, leche, meete (dream), mete (fit),
slepe, speche, speke, pret. pl., thred, wete, wreche, ȝer, and with one
exception only in each case dede, slep: of the latter class, areche, clene, del,
evere, lere, mene, nevere, teche, and with one exception in each case, -hede
(-hiede), lede, sprede.

With unstable vowel: from ǣ (ē), drede, eve, fere (fear), red (subst.),
rede, there, were, where: from ǣ = ai, hete, lene, see (sea).
The conclusions to which we are led are, first that in Gower’s usage
there is less instability of vowel-sound in these words than in Chaucer, the
number of words with unstable vowel being smaller and the variations even
in their case more exceptional; secondly that Gower’s language has a
strongly pronounced leaning towards ẹ̄; and finally that this tendency is
quite as much visible in the words of the ǣ = ai class as in the others.

O. E. ēa. The substantive believe has ẹ̄ by influence of the verb.
There is no use apparently of nę̄de from nēad or of ȝę̄r from gēar, and
ek, eke, seems invariably to have ẹ̄.
From ēage, flēah, hēah, nēah we have yhe, flyh, hih, nyh.
There seems no reason to suppose that stre, sle had ẹ̄, as has been
concluded for Chaucer’s language because of such rhymes as sle : he,
stre : she, stree : we, see ten Brink, Chaucers Sprache, §23.
It has already been shown that see (sea), which we have supposed to
have unstable vowel quality, very seldom rhymes with words having ẹ̄,
notwithstanding the frequent opportunity for such rhymes, and ȝee, ‘yea,’
never. It may be questioned whether the rule laid down by ten Brink for
Chaucer is a sound one, and whether Chaucer’s practice does not really
depend simply upon the larger supply of rhymes in ẹ̄, such as he, she, me,
thee, be, se (verb), tre, three, &c. It is at least possible that the difference
here between Gower and Chaucer arises from the fact that the latter was
less strict in his rhymes, and certainly the later developments of sle, see,
stre, ȝee supply no confirmation of the idea that they had ẹ̄ regularly in
Chaucer’s language.

O. E. ēo. By the side of sek (siek) there is occasionally sik.
The form fil, fille for fell, felle, pret. sing. and pl. from falle, are not
used by Gower. He rhymes fell (fēoll) : hell (hyll) and felle, pret. pl.: felle
(fyllan).

The personal pronoun ȝow (ȝou) from ēow rhymes with thou, now, &c.

O. E. ī. Fahrenberg’s instances of ī : ē, i. 177 f. and iii. 413 f., are both
founded on mistakes.

O. E. ū. The personal pronoun from O. E. ūs is always written ous, but
rhymes in some instances with -us in Latin names, e.g. Tricolonius : ous,
Tereüs : ous.
būtan is shortened to bot, not but. It occurs also as a dissyllable in the
form bote.

O. E. ȳ. The only example of ȳ as ē is fer from fȳr, which occurs in
rhyme with ȝer, iii. 694, (elsewhere fyr). Chaucer has fere, dat., rhyming
with here, adv., Troilus, iii. 978, and also afere in rhyme with stere, ‘stir,’
Troilus, i. 229.
The cases of hedde, hed, pret. and past participle (from hȳdan), are
examples of shortened ȳ passing naturally to e, and so also fest from fȳst,
felthe from fȳlþe, threste from þrȳsta.
From ȳg in drȳge we have dreie, but also drye.

O. E. ō. Gower, like Chaucer, rhymes the word do (misdo, undo, &c.),
and occasionally to in therto, with words that have ǭ derived from ā, not
only so, also, two, wo, but also tho, adv. (i. 2609, iii. 683, v. 5331, &c.), go,
ago (ii. 2483, 3513, iv. 1161, 3465, v. 5173, &c.), overmo (i. 2385), no (v.
4776), fo (iv. 3407). These words also rhyme with proper names, such as
Juno, Lichao, Babio. The other forms of do, as doth, don, rhyme nearly
always with ọ̄, but once we have doth : goth, v. 3967 f., and once
don : anon, v. 3627 f. The rhyme soth : goth also occurs, v. 1579 f. This
latter class of rhyme, as don : anon, don : gon, sothe : bothe, soth : wroth,
occurs frequently in Chaucer’s earlier work, as the Book of the Duchess, but
much less so in the later.

These rhymes, like those of hom with com, &c., noticed above under ā,
are to be explained as due to scarcity of exactly corresponding rhyme
words. The only exact rhyme for do and to is in fact schoo, which is found
in Prol. 356, but obviously could not be of frequent occurrence. The
explanation given by ten Brink, Chaucers Sprache, § 31, and repeated
mechanically by others, is that certain words which have ǭ from ā, as wo,
two, so (swā), may equally have ọ̄ upon occasion owing to the influence of
w. This is shown to be wrong both by the fact that the rhymes in question
are, as we have seen, by no means confined to these words, and by the
absence of other evidence in the case of wo and so that they ever had a
tendency to ọ̄. The fact that the rhyme do : so is by far the commonest
instance is due simply to the more frequent occasion for using the words.
In the rhyme glove : love, v. 7047 f., we have to deal with ọ̄, and there
can be no question here of love from lufian. Both sense and rhyme point to
a verb love corresponding to the substantive lof or love, mod. luff, and
signifying the action of bringing a ship’s head up nearer to the wind. The
other rhymes used with glove are behove, Prol. 357, prove, iii. 2153.
We may note that wowe from wōgian rhymes with bowe (būgan), which
does not fit in with ten Brink’s very questionable theory about the
development of ou (ow), Chaucers Sprache, § 46, Anm.

(3) Romance Vowels. A few notes only will be added here to what has
already been said in the Introduction to Gower’s French Works.
Words with -oun (-on) ending, as condicioun (-on), opinioun (-on), &c.,
rhyme only among themselves or with toun, doun, &c. There are no rhymes
like Chaucer’s proporcion : upon, and it is to be noted especially that the
rhyming of proper names in -on, as Salamon, Acteon, &c., with this class of
words, which is very common in Chaucer, does not occur in Gower’s
English, though we occasionally find it in his French. At the same time the
possibility of such rhymes cannot be denied, for we have toun : Ylioun, v.
7235 f., and Lamedon : Jasoun, v. 7197 f.
Adjectives in -ous do not rhyme with -us, as in Chaucer
Aurelius : amorous, Theseüs : desirous.

The terminations -arie, -orie are not used at all, but instead of them the
French forms -aire, -oire, as adversaire, contraire, necessaire, gloire,
histoire, memoire, purgatoire, victoire. Latin proper names in o rhyme with
ǭ, as Cithero (: also), Leo (: also), Phito (: tho), Juno (: so, tho), &c., but
also in several cases with do. There seems no sufficient reason to suppose,
as ten Brink does, that they regularly had ọ̄.

(4) Consonants. The termination -liche (-lich) in adjectives and
adverbs, which Fahrenberg judging by the rhymes sets down as very
uncommon compared with -ly, is by far the more usual of the two. It is true
that -ly occurs more frequently in rhyme, but that is due chiefly to the
greater abundance of rhyme words corresponding to it, e.g. forthi, by, cri,
merci, enemy: we have, however, redely : properly, Prol. 947 f. The general
rule of usage is this: -ly usually in rhyme (but besiliche : swiche, iv. 1235
f.), and before a consonant in cases where the metre requires a single
syllable, as i. 2069, ‘Al prively behinde his bak’ (but frendlich, viii. 2173), -
liche or -lich before a vowel, as i. 373, ‘That ronne besiliche aboute,’ cp. ii.
1695, v. 1247, and -liche of course where two syllables are required, as i.
1035, ‘Was thanne al openliche schewed,’ so ii. 918, iv. 57, and compare
also iii. 2065 f.,

‘Unkindely for thou hast wroght,
Unkindeliche it schal be boght.’

But in Prol. 719 we have only before a vowel,

‘Noght al only of thorient,’

though onliche occurs in a similar position, i. 1948, and onlich, iii. 42.
Again, 911,

‘And sodeinly, er sche it wiste,’

but Prol. 503,

‘Al sodeinliche, er it be wist,’

cp. iv. 921, compared with i. 1336.
The treatment of the O. E. spirant h (= χ) deserves some attention. This
occurring before t is recognized as having in M. E. a palatal or a guttural
sound, according to the nature of the preceding vowel, but the texts of our
period usually give it as gh in both cases. Gower, however, makes a
distinction, writing almost regularly alihte, briht, dihte, fihte, flihte, kniht,
liht, miht, mihte, niht, riht, sihte, wiht, heihte, sleihte, &c., but aghte,
caghte, straghte, boghte, broghte, noght, oght, oghte, soghte. Occasionally
however in the first class we find g, as rarely bryghte, lighte, more
frequently heighte, sleighte, and pretty regularly eighte; and there are
several words in the second which have variants with h, but in these cases
w(u) is inserted, as cawhte, strawhte, dowhter (douhter), owhte: otherwise u
is generally absent, as we have already seen. The form referred to is
commoner with the vowel a than with o.
It is hardly necessary to repeat here that plit is a word of Romance
origin, and rhymes properly with delit, appetit, not with liht, niht, &c.,
being separate in etymology from O. E. pliht.
From the fact that there is no rhyming of -iht with -it either in Gower or
Chaucer, we may certainly gather that the sounds were somewhat different;
but the fact that Gower does not usually write gh after i indicates, no doubt,
that in this case the sound of the spirant was less marked than when
preceded by broader vowels.
Where O. E. h is a final aspirate, g is not usually written, as sih, hih, nih,
bowh, lowh, plowh, slowh, ynowh, except in the case of thogh, but very
occasionally we find such forms as drogh, plogh. In the words which have
w(u) h is often dropped, as in bowes, low, slow (preterites), ynow.

v. Inflexion.—(1) Substantives. In a certain number of words there is
variation in the matter of final e: thus we have drink drinke, felawe felawh
(fela), flyht flyhte, half halve, help helpe, kep kepe, lack lacke, lyf lyve, myn
myne, queene queen, sor sore, wel wele, will wille, wyndou wyndowe, to

which must be added many words with the suffixes -hede, -hode, -schipe,
and the termination -inge, e.g. falshed(e), knyhthod(e), manhed(e),
felaschip(e), hunting(e), knowleching(e), teching(e), wenyng(e). In these
latter cases the presence of the e ending is not wholly dependent on the
accent, for we have huntíng, i. 350, but húntynge, iv. 2429, techyng and
techinge both equally in rhyme, i. 1592, v. 611, gládschipe, i. 3128, knithód,
v. 2057, felaschíp, ii. 1217. Accent however has some influence, and it is
hardly conceivable that the final e should count in the metre except where
the accent falls on the preceding syllable, so that where the accent is thrown
back, we find that the word is regularly followed by a vowel. In the case of
the (English) termination -ere the final e is usually written: such words are
beggere, forthdrawere, hindrere, ledere, lovere, makere, repere, spekere,
writere. This -e, however, is either elided or passed over in the metre (as
with janglere, v. 526), unless an accent falls on the termination, in which
case it may be sounded, as vii. 2348, ‘The Sothseiere tho was lief.’
The forms game, gamen appear side by side both in singular and plural,
as i. 347, vi. 1849, viii. 680.
As regards the oblique cases we note the following genitive forms:
cherche, herte (also hertes), hevene, ladi, soule, sterre (pl.), wode (also
wodes), to which add dowhter (also dowhtres), fader (also fadres), moder.
In the expressions horse side, horse heved, &c., horse is genitive singular.
The -e termination of the dative appears in a good many prepositional
phrases: to (in) bedde, in boke, to borwe, be (to) bote, with (of) childe, unto
the chinne (but unto the chin, i. 1682), be daie, to (fro) dethe (also fro deth),
of dome, on (under) fote (but upon the fot, at his fot), on fyre, to (upon)
grounde, fro (unto) the grounde (also fro the ground), on hede, at (fro) home
(also at hom), in (on, upon) honde, to (into) honde, (but ‘bar on hond,’ be
the hond), on horse, to horse, to (in, of) house (but in myn hous), to (into)
londe, be (in, over) londe, of (out of) londe, fro the londe, (but of his lond,
&c.), be lyhte, to lyve, to manne, to mowthe, be mowthe, be nyhte (also be
nyht, and regularly at nyht, on nyht, a nyht, to nyht), to rede, be (to, into, out
of) schipe (also to schip), to scorne, to slepe (also to slep), to toune, to
wedde, to wyve, to ȝere, be ȝere.
In the plural we have hors, schep unchanged, and also with numerals,
mile, monthe, pound, ȝer (beside ȝeres), wynter. The plural of thing is

thinges, sometimes thinge, not thing. Mutation plurals, feet, men, teeth,
wommen. Plurals in -en, brethren, children, oxen (also oxes), ton, yhen.
The forms in -ere have plurals -ers, as janglers, kepers, lovers. From
maiden we have beside maidens also maidenes (three syllables), iv. 255,
which is perhaps the true reading in Chaucer, Leg. of G. Women, 722. From
angel we have plural anglis, iii. 2256, as well as angles, and Nimphis, v.
6932, but there are few examples of plural in -is.
With regard to Romance substantives Gower appears to be stricter than
Chaucer in preserving their form. He gives us regularly beste ‘beast,’ feste,
requeste, tempeste. We have however baner (also banere), host, maner,
matier (beside manere, matiere), press (beside presse), travaile, conseile
(substantives) very occasionally for travail, conseil.
Several distinctively feminine forms are used, as capiteine, chamberere,
citezeine, cousine, enemie.
In some cases the Latin inflexion is introduced, as Tantaly, Apollinis,
Centauri, in Cancro, Achillem, Esionam, Phebum, the two last apparently
introduced after the first recension.

(2) Adjectives and Adverbs. A few adjectives vary as regards final e in
the uninflected form, for example ech eche, lich liche, low lowe, many
manye, moist moiste, old olde, other othre, such suche (?), trewe trew,
wommanyssh wommannysshe.
In comparative forms -e is often dropped, as fairer, further, longer,
rather, ȝonger, but more often written, as furthere, deppere, ferre, gladdere,
grettere, lengere, rathere. This -e, however, is either elided or passed over
in the metre (as ii. 503, iv. 1459, vi. 1490, 1525, 2010). Where there is
syncope of the penultimate, as after v(u) in levere, the final e counts
regularly as a syllable, so that in case of elision the word is reduced to a
monosyllable, which never takes place with rathere, furthere, &c.
When adjectives or adverbs ending in weak e are combined with a
suffix or another word, -e is often dropped; thus we have everemore
evermore, furthermore, joieful joiful, hevenely hevenly, trewely trewly (so
also trewman), and so on. In such cases a previously syncopated
penultimate ceases to be so on loss of the following e.

A few cases occur of -id for -ed in adjective endings, as nakid (also
naked), wickid wikkid (usually wicked), also hundrid (usually hundred).
The definite form is used pretty regularly in the case of English
monosyllabic adjectives, and usually also in monosyllables of French
origin. This rule applies (1) to adjectives used after the definite article, a
demonstrative pronoun or a possessive; (2) to those employed as vocatives
in address; (3) to adjectives in combination with proper names or words
used as proper namesV. Thus we have regularly (1) ‘the grete hert,’ ‘the
stronge coffre,’ ‘The qwike body with the dede,’ ‘this proude vice,’ ‘this
ȝonge lord,’ ‘my longe wo,’ ‘his lose tunge,’ ‘thi fulle mynde,’ ‘whos rihte
name,’ &c. (2) ‘O derke ypocrisie,’ ‘O goode fader,’ ‘lieve Sone,’ &c. (3)
‘grete Rome,’ ‘Blinde Avarice,’ ‘proude Envie’ (but ‘proud Envie,’ Prol.
712), ‘faire Eole,’ ‘stronge Sampson,’ ‘wise Tolomeüs,’ &c.
We must note also the inflexions in the following expressions, ‘so hihe a
love,’ ii. 2425 (but hih, vii. 2413), ‘so grete a wo,’ v. 5737, so grete a lust,’
v. 6452, ‘so schorte a time,’ vii. 5201.
With Romance adjectives we find ‘his false tunge,’ ‘the pleine cas,’
‘false Nessus,’ &c., and so usually in monosyllables.
In the case of English monosyllables the exceptions are few. ‘His full
answere,’ i. 1629, ‘hire good astat,’ i. 2764, ‘here wrong condicion,’ ii. 295,
‘his slyh compas,’ ii. 2341 (but ‘his slyhe cast,’ ii. 2374), ‘the ferst of hem,’
iii. 27, v. 2863, cp. 5944 (usually ‘the ferste,’ as i. 580, &c.), ‘my riht hond,’
iii. 300, ‘the trew man,’ iii. 2346, ‘his hih lignage,’ iv. 2064 (due perhaps to
the usual phrase ‘of hih lignage’), ‘the hih prouesse,’ v. 6428*, ‘hire hih
astat,’ v. 6597, ‘the gret oultrage,’ vii. 3413, ‘hire freissh aray,’ vii. 5000,
‘hire hol entente,’ viii. 1222, cp. viii. 1710, 2968 (but ‘ȝoure hole conseil’).
Among Romance adjectives the want of inflexion is more frequent in
proportion to the whole number of instances, e.g. ‘the vein honour,’ Prol.
221, ‘the fals emperour,’ Prol. 739, ‘Hire clos Envie,’ ii. 684, &c.
In the case of adjectives of more than one syllable, whether English or
French, the definite form is exceptional. The commonest case is that of
superlatives, in which the definite form -este is regularly used when the
accent falls on the termination, whether in rhyme or otherwise, as faireste, i.
767, v. 7427, slyheste, i. 1442, wiseste: myhtieste, i. 1097 f., wofulleste, vii.

5017. Even when the accent is thrown back, the definite inflexion is more
usually given than not, as faireste, i. 1804, hoteste, i. 2492, treweste, ii.
1282, povereste, iv. 2238, heyeste, vii. 935, but sometimes dropped, as ‘the
purest Eir,’ Prol. 921, ‘the ȝongest of hem,’ i. 3133, ‘the lowest of hem alle,’
vii. 224: in all cases, however, where the accent is thrown back, the
adjective is followed by a word beginning with a vowel, so that the metre is
not affected.
Other adjectives of which the termination is capable of accent may take
the definite inflexion, when the accent is thrown on the termination, as ‘the
covoitouse flaterie,’ ‘this lecherouse pride,’ this tyrannysshe knyht,’ but on
the other hand ‘his fals pitous lokynge,’ ‘the pietous Justinian,’ ‘the proude
tyrannyssh Romein,’ and cases where the adjective is used as a substantive,
‘the coveitous’, ‘This Envious,’ ‘thaverous,’ &c. We have ‘the parfite
medicine,’ iv. 2624 (but ‘the parfit Elixir,’ iv. 2522, with accent thrown
back), and ‘O thou gentile Venus,’ viii. 2294; but perhaps parfite, gentile are
to be regarded as feminine forms, as almost certainly devolte, i. 636.
Where the final syllable of the adjective is incapable of accent, there is
ordinarily no question of a definite inflexion, except where there is syncope
after v (u), as in evele. Such words are croked, wicked, cruel, litel, middel,
biter, dedly, lusti, sinful(l), wilful, woful(l), wrongful, and we may note that
comparatives in -ere and adjectives in -liche (with accent thrown back)
sometimes appear in the truncated form of spelling even where a definite
termination is suggested by their position, e.g. ‘hire ȝonger Soster,’ v. 5395,
‘hir goodlych yhe,’ ii. 2026, ‘Ha, thou ungoodlich ypocrite,’ v. 6293, ‘hire
dedlich yhe,’ vii. 5089 (-lich in these latter cases to avoid the hiatus of
‘ungoodly ypocrite,’ &c.). As an exceptional instance the form nakede
should be observed, ‘his nakede arm,’ iv. 421, given so both by F and S.
The formation of plurals in adjectives and participles used attributively
is governed by the same principles. We have ‘preciouse Stones,’ iv. 1354,
but ‘the most principal’(pl.), v. 1115. In the expression ‘the chief flodes,’ v.
1112, chief must be considered perhaps as a substantive, like hed in ‘the hed
planete.’ Naturally words like wicked, woful, lusti, &c., take no plural
inflexion, but we have manye (manie) beside many apparently as a plural
form, though manye also occurs in the singular, and enye once as plural of
eny. In the expression ‘som men’ som is without inflexion in the plural, e.g.
Prol. 529, iii. 2113, but ‘somme clerkes,’ Prol. 355, ‘some thinges,’ i. 1265.

Adjectives used as predicates or in apposition are to some extent treated
according to convenience of metre or rhyme, but in the case of
monosyllables there is a decided preference for inflexion. The following are
some of the instances: ‘Whan we ben dede,’ Prol. 2, ‘hem that weren
goode,’ 42, ‘my wittes ben to smale,’ 81, ‘Ther ben of suche manie glade,’
299, ‘become grete,’ 303, ‘ben with mannes senne wrothe,’ 920, so blinde, i.
774, smale, 1145, glade, 1151, hyhe, smale, i. 1678 f., hore and whyte, i.
2045, stronge, iii. 1112, dulle, iv. 947, whyte, fatte, grete, iv. 1310, &c. We
have also ‘hise thoghtes feinte,’ iv. 118, ‘thinges ... veine,’ i. 2689, ‘hise
bedes most devoute,’ i. 669, ‘in wordes so coverte,’ iv. 1606, wher the men
ben coveitouse, v. 4800.
On the other hand, ‘Of hem that ben so derk withinne,’ i. 1077, ‘Hire
chekes ben with teres wet,’ i. 1680, ‘Thei wexen doumb,’ iv. 345, ‘Here
bodies weren long and smal,’ iv. 1320, ‘Thei weren gracious and wys,’ vii.
1447, ‘thei weren glad,’ viii. 881, and so frequently.
The participle used as predicate is ordinarily uninflected, but there are a
few examples of a plural form adopted for the rhyme, as made, Prol. 300,
ansuerde, i. 3246, iv. 2343, hidde, v. 6789.
The usage of al, alle as an adjective is in some ways peculiar, but
tolerably consistent. In the singular before an article, a demonstrative
pronoun or a possessive, the uninflected form al (occasionally all) is used,
as ‘al the baronie,’ ‘al the world,’ ‘al his welthe,’ ‘all his proude fare,’ ‘al a
mannes strengthe’ (also ‘the Cite all,’ ii. 3473), but before a substantive the
form alle (dissyllable)W, as ‘alle grace,’ ‘alle thing,’ ‘alle untrouthe,’ ‘alle
vertu,’ ‘in alle wise,’ ‘in alle haste,’ ‘alle wel,’ ‘alle charite,’ but sometimes
before vowels al, as ‘al honour,’ i. 879, ‘al Erthe,’ i. 2825, ‘al Envie,’ ii.
168, ‘al untrowthe,’ ii. 1684. In the plural, ‘al the,’ ‘all these,’ ‘alle the,’ &c.
(‘alle’ being counted as a monosyllable), and without the article, ‘alle’ (but
‘al othre,’ iv. 1532).
Note also the adverbial expression ‘in none wise,’ cp. ‘othre wise.’ In
cases of the combination of a French adjective with a feminine substantive
of the same origin the adjective occasionally takes the French feminine
form. Instances are as follows: ‘devolte apparantie,’ i. 636, ‘veine gloire,’ i.
2677 ff., ‘vertu sovereine,’ ii. 3507, ‘seinte charite,’ iv. 964, ‘herbe
sovereine,’ vii. 1392, ‘joie sovereine,’ viii. 2530, and even as predicate,

‘Dame Avarice is noght soleine,’ v. 1971. Possibly also, ‘O thou divine
pourveance,’ ii. 3243, ‘the parfite medicine,’ iv. 2624, ‘a gentile ... on,’ v.
2713, and ‘O thou gentile Venus,’ viii. 2294, may be examples of the same
usage.
There is one instance of the French plural adjective in -s, Prol. 738,
evidently introduced for the sake of the rhyme.

(3) Pronouns. The personal pronoun of the first person is regularly I,
not ich. It is usually written y by the copyist of the last 235 lines of the
Fairfax MS. and in the Praise of Peace.
The third person sing. fem. is sche (never written she), once scheo: the
oblique case is hire, hir (never here), and hire, though usually equivalent to
a monosyllable, sometimes has -e fully sounded, as i. 367, iv. 766, v. 1178.
The third person neuter is it, seldom hit.
In the first person plural the oblique case is ous, not shortened to us in
spelling.
The possessives of the first and second persons sing., min, thin, have no
plural inflexion, but the disjunctive form thyne pl. occurs, i. 168. On the
other hand his, originally an uninflected form, has usually the plural hise,
but sometimes his. The form hise is never a dissyllable.
The feminine possessive, 3rd pers., is hire or hir, freely interchanged
and metrically equivalent. There is no question of a plural inflexion here,
and we find ‘Hire Nase,’ ‘hire browes,’ ‘hir lockes,’ ‘Hire Necke,’ quite
indifferently used, i. 1678 ff. The disjunctive is hire, v. 6581, and hires, v.
6857. The forms oure, ȝoure are usual for the possessives of the 1st and 2nd
pers. plur., and these are commonly used as monosyllables, e.g. i. 2062,
2768, and interchanged with our, ȝour; but they are also capable of being
reckoned as dissyllables, e.g. Prol. 5, iii. 1087. Here again there is no plural
inflexion (‘ȝour wordes,’ iii. 627). The disjunctive ȝoures occurs in i. 1852.
The possessive of the 3rd pers. plur. is here, her, which is practically
never confused in good MSS. with hire, hir of the fem. sing.X We are fully
justified in assuming that for Gower the distinction was absolute.

The ordinary relatives are which and that: who is little used as a relative
except in the genitive case, whos. The plural whiche is usually pronounced
as a monosyllable, as ii. 604, iv. 1496, v. 1320, and often loses -e in writing,
as Prol. 1016, iv. 1367, 1872, v. 4041, but also sometimes counts as a
dissyllable, e.g. i. 404, vii. 1256.
In combination with the definite article the singular form is ‘the which,’
not ‘the whiche,’ as Prol. 71, 975.
(4) Verbs. In the Infinitive and Gerund, apart from the cases of do, go,
se, sle, &c., few instances occur of the loss of final e. The verb sein (sain)
has seie and also say, and beside the regular infinitive pute we have also put
in several instances, the next word beginning with a vowel or mute h. The
cases are as follows: ‘And thoghte put hire in an Ile,’ i. 1578, ‘To put his
lif,’ &c., i. 3213, ‘put eny lette,’ ii. 93, and so also ii. 1021, iii. 1166, iv. 756,
2615, v. 273, viii. 892: but also, ‘It oghte pute a man in fere,’ i. 462, ‘To
puten Rome in full espeir,’ ii. 1551, ‘Theucer pute out of his regne,’ iii.
2648, &c. In addition to the above there are a few instances of the same in
other verbs, as ‘get hire a thank,’ ii. 60, ‘It schal noght wel mow be forsake,’
ii. 1670, ‘flitt his herte aside,’ iv. 214, ‘let it passe,’ viii. 2056. (In vi. 202,
‘If that sche wolde ȝif me leve,’ we ought perhaps to read ȝive with S: cp. i.
1648.)
The gerund ‘to done’ is common, but we do not find either ‘to sene’ or
‘to seine.’
Present Tense. In the 1st pers. sing, of the present, apart from such
forms as do, go, &c., and prai beside preie praie, there are a few cases of
apocope, as in the infinitive: ‘Than cast I,’ iv. 560, ‘let it passe,’ iv. 363, ‘I
put me therof in your grace,’ i. 732, ‘I put it al,’ v. 2951, ‘I red thee leve,’ vi.
1359, ‘Nou thenk I,’ vii. 4212. In two of these instances it will be noticed
that the following word begins with a consonant.
In the 3rd pers. sing. the syncopated and contracted forms are very
much used by Gower. He says regularly bit, ett, get, put, schet, set, sit (2nd
pers. sist), smit, writ; arist, bint, fint, holt (halt), lest, went, wext; berth,
brekth, bringth, crith, drawth, drinkth, falth, farth, forsakth, leith, lyth,
preith, spekth, takth (or tath), thenkth, ȝifth, and only occasionally draweth,
drinketh, fareth, kepeth, sitteth, waxeth, &c. In vi. 59 the best MSS. agree in
giving sterte for stert, and in viii. 2428 most have sitte for sit, but these are

probably accidental variations. For the 3rd pers. plural Fahrenberg (p. 404)
quotes several supposed instances of th ending. Of these most are
expressions like ‘men seith,’ where ‘men’ is used as singular indefinite. One
only is valid, viz. vii. 1107, ‘Diverse sterres to him longeth’: cp. vii. 536.
Preterite. With regard to the tense formation of Strong Verbs reference
may be made to the Glossary, where all the characteristic forms are
recorded. We confine ourselves here to a few remarks.
The following instances may be noticed of gradation between the
singular and the plural of the preterite: began, pl. begunne begonne, gan, pl.
gonnen, ran, pl. runne, wan, pl. wonne, bond, pl. bounden, fond, pl.
founden, song (sang), pl. songe sunge, sprong, pl. spronge sprungen, drank
(dronk), pl. drunke, bar, pl. bere (beere), brak, pl. brieken, spak, pl. spieke,
sat, pl. sete(n) siete(n) seete, bad, pl. bede, lay (lih), pl. lihe leie(n), wax, pl.
woxen, wrot, pl. write(n), rod, pl. riden, ches, pl. chose, and among
preterite-presents can, pl. conne, mai, pl. mowe, schal, pl. schulle schull
schol, wot, pl. wite.
There are some few instances in F of strong preterites with irregular -e
termination in the 1st or 3rd pers. singular, but in no case is this
authenticated by metre or rhyme. The following are examples in which F
and S are agreed, ‘schope a wile,’ v. 4278, ‘he bare him,’ v. 5236, ‘which
sihe his Soster,’ v. 5810, ‘lete come,’ vi. 1186, ‘he tho toke hire in his arm,’
viii. 1732. These are perhaps mistakes, and they have sometimes been
corrected in the text on the authority of other MSS.
The 2nd pers. sing. has the -e termination, as sihe (syhe), iii. 2629, iv.
599, were, iv. 600, knewe, vi. 2313, come, viii. 2076, but tok, i. 2421. The
2nd pers. sing. of the preterite-present mai is regularly miht (myht), never
‘mayest.’ Occasionally the best MSS. give it as mihte, e.g. i. 2457, vii.
2637, 3819, but there is no metrical confirmation of this form. The preterite
plural is very rarely found without -e, as v. 3300, 7534, vii. 3574.
Among Weak Verbs those which have the short or syncopated form
keep the -e termination almost regularly. Such preterites are, for example,
aspide, cride, deide, leide, obeide, payde, preide, seide, teide, hadde, made,
brende, sende, answerde, ferde, herde, solde, spilde, tolde, wende, betidde,
dradde, fedde, fledde, hedde, gradde, ladde, radde, spedde, spradde, crepte,
duelte, felte, hente, kepte, kiste, lefte, lepte, loste, mente, slepte, wente,

wepte, alihte, caste, dihte, grette, knette, kutte, laste, liste, mette, plyhte,
putte, schette, sette, sterte, triste, arawhte, broghte, cawhte, oghte, roghte,
schryhte, soghte, strawhte, tawhte, thoghte, wroghte, cowthe, dorste, mihte,
moste, scholde, wiste, wolde.
At the same time it must be noted (as in the case of the infinitive) that
with some of these forms there is an occasional tendency to drop the -e
before a vowel at the beginning of the next word (that is, where elision
would take place), and the agreement of the best MSS., especially F and S,
makes it certain this was sometimes done by the author. It is impossible to
trace any system, but the number of verbs affected is not large, and in
nearly every case the instances of this kind of elision-apocope are largely
outnumbered by the examples of normal inflexion in the same verbY.
The following is a tolerably full list of references for these preterite forms, which
are given in alphabetical order: ‘Beraft hire,’ v. 5647, ‘it betidd upon the cas,’ vii.
4381, ‘Sche cast on me,’ i. 152, ‘cast up hire lok,’ v. 5436, ‘he cast his lok,’ vi. 1035,
‘dorst he,’ ii. 1633, ‘drad him,’ viii. 1368, ‘And felt it’ (subj.), viii. 2165, ‘so ferd I,’
viii. 2445, ‘had herd hem,’ v. 5865, ‘Hir bodi hent up,’ v. 5702, ‘herd he noght sein,’
iii. 2082, ‘And kept hire,’ ii. 181, ‘Sche kept al doun,’ v. 1495, ‘he kest him,’ vi. 1746,
‘And kist him,’ v. 3777, 5592, ‘and knet it,’ v. 6866, ‘he kut it,’ vii. 4525, ‘what him
list he tok,’ iii. 2446, ‘Sche lost al,’ ii. 2290, cp. v. 3465, ‘That mad hem,’ ii. 310, and
so also v. 986, 3393, 3822, ‘ne myht I,’ i. 1280, ‘miht eschuie,’ iii. 1356, and so also
iii. 1440, vii. 4285, ‘Put under,’ Prol. 683, ‘Wan and put under,’ Prol. 718, ‘He put
hem into,’ i. 1013, ‘Sche put hire hand,’ i. 1807, and so also ii. 3267, v. 3045, 4088,
5326, 6409, vi. 2062, vii. 4402, viii. 2702, ‘thei putt hem,’ v. 7417, ‘Of ous, that
schold ous,’ Prol. 543 (so SF), ‘schold every wys man,’ ii. 578, ‘And seid hir,’ i. 3188,
‘Seid ek,’ v. 4309, ‘And set hire,’ ii. 2220, ‘He set him,’ v. 3691, ‘he set an
essamplaire,’ vii. 4262, ‘And tawht hem so’ (‘tawhte’ S), iii. 176, ‘told him,’ i. 3187,
ii. 803, 2865 (‘tolde’ S), vii. 4688, told hem,’ v. 3883, viii. 1555, ‘he told out,’ ii. 884,
‘every man went on his syde,’ v. 7403, ‘And went hem out’ (pl.), v. 7533, ‘sche wist
it,’ ii. 2010, ‘thanne wold I,’ i. 183, ‘and wold have,’ v. 4217, ‘I wold stele,’ v. 7137,
‘wold I,’ viii. 2298, to which we may add ‘myht obeie,’ and ‘behight him’ from the
Praise of Peace, 39, 41.
Of these examples it is to be remembered, first that in only one case, ‘I wold
stele,’ v. 7137, does this apocope take place before a consonant, though in one other
instance, v. 5865, the following word begins with an aspirated h; and secondly, that
with all these, except perhaps put, the full form of the preterite is that which usually
occurs before a vowel as well as elsewhere. Even in the case of put we have the form
putte frequently when it is subject to elision, as Prol. 1069, ‘And putte awey
malencolie,’ and so ii. 713, 2684, iv. 399, 1368, &c., as well as regularly before a
consonant, as ‘With strengthe he putte kinges under,’ i. 2797. The form putt occurs in
v. 7417, and in this case the verb is plural. The only other instances of plurals in the
list are Prol. 543 and v. 7533.

With regard to the weak verbs which form preterites with ending -ede,
the loss of the final e is somewhat more common, but it is usually retained,
and sometimes it counts as a syllable in the verse. Where this is not the
case, it is either elided in the usual way, or if it be dropped in writing, this is
only under the conditions which apply to the verbs mentioned above,
namely, before a vowel at the beginning of the succeeding word.
It is, however, noteworthy that the use of these forms, whether in -ede
or -ed, is decidedly rare, and was avoided by our author even in cases where
the -e would have been subject to elision. It is evident that he was always
conscious of this ending, even if he did not always write it, and yet he felt
that the two weak syllables ought not to have full value in the metre. The
result was that he avoided the use of the form generally, so far as it was
reasonably possible to do so. The whole number of these preterites in -ede, -
ed to be found in the Confessio Amantis is surprisingly small, both actually
and relatively, that is, taking account of the extent to which the verbs in
question are employed in their other tenses. The method pursued is chiefly
to substitute in narrative the present tense, or the perfect formed with ‘hath,’
for the 3rd person singular of the preterite, ‘Conforteth’ for ‘Confortede,’
‘Hath axed’ for ‘axede,’ ‘feigneth’ for ‘feignede,’ and this apparently as a
matter of habit and even in cases where a vowel follows. No doubt the use
of the present tense in narrative is quite usual apart from this, but the
extremely frequent combination of strong or syncopated preterites with the
present tenses of verbs of this class seems to me to indicate clearly how the
matter stood.
The following are a few of the examples of this: ‘For sche tok thanne chiere on
honde And clepeth him,’ i. 1767 f., ‘The king comandeth ben in pes, And ... caste,’
3240 f., ‘Comendeth, and seide overmore,’ 3361, ‘he him bethoghte,... And torneth to
the banke ayein,’ ii. 167 ff., ‘for hem sente And axeth hem,’ 613 f., ‘lay ... clepeth oute
... sterte,’ 848 ff., ‘Sche loketh and hire yhen caste,’ 1066, ‘This child he loveth
kindely ... Bot wel he sih ... axeth ... seide,’ 1381 ff., ‘Sche preide him and conseileth
bothe,’ 1457, ‘Which semeth outward profitable And was,’ 2201 f., ‘And he himself
that ilke throwe Abod, and hoveth there stille,’ iii. 1232 f., and so on.

These examples will serve to illustrate a tendency which every reader
will observe, when once his attention has been called to it. There are indeed
many narrative passages in which nearly all the strong or syncopated verbs
are used in the preterite, and all the others in the present, and it is evident
that this cannot be accidentalZ.

There are, however, a certain number of instances of the use of weak
preterites, indicative or subjunctive, and a few in which the final e (or -en)
is sounded in the metre.
The following are examples of -ede preterites (in one instance -ide): ‘I wisshide
after deth,’ i. 120, ‘he passede ate laste,’ 142, ‘he hem stoppede alle faste,’ 522, ‘And
warnede alle his officiers,’ 2506, ‘Mi ladi lovede, and I it wiste,’ ii. 502, ‘he axede
hem anon,’ 1248, ‘he rounede in thin Ere,’ 1944, ‘Bot he hire lovede, er he wente,’
2027, ‘Thogh that he lovede ten or tuelve,’ 2063, ‘Supplantede the worthi knyht,’
2453, ‘Sche pourede oute,’ iii. 679, so also iii. 1631, 2556, iv. 468, 825, 842, 934,
1340, 1345, 1444, ‘Lo, thus sche deiede a wofull Maide,’ iv. 1593, ‘it likede ek to
wende,’ 2150, ‘Controeveden be sondri wise,’ 2454, ‘Translateden. And otherwise,’
2660, ‘And foundeden the grete Rome,’ v. 904, ‘He feignede him,’ 928, ‘And clepede
him,’ 951, ‘He percede the harde roche,’ 1678, ‘Thei faileden, whan Crist was bore,’
1697, ‘Thei passeden the toun,’ 2182, ‘Alle othre passede of his hond,’ 3258,
‘Welcomede him,’ 3373, ‘walkede up and doun’ (pl.), 3833, ‘axede him,’ 5129, so also
5774, 6132, 6791, 6887, ‘oppressede al the nacion’ (pl.), vi. 568, ‘That loveden longe
er I was bore,’ 882, ‘he usede ay,’ 1207, ‘exilede out of londe,’ 2348, ‘Enformeden,’
vii. 1495, ‘Devoureden,’ 3346, ‘Ensamplede hem’ (pl.), 4441, ‘Restorede hem,’ 4445,
so also 4632, 4986, 4992, 4998, &c., ‘Eschuieden to make assay,’ viii. 373, ‘With love
wrastlede and was overcome,’ 2240.

This list of examples, which is fairly complete up to v. 1970, will
sufficiently show the manner in which -ede preterites are used. In more than
three-fourths of the instances quoted the -e is subject to elision, and of those
that remain nine are examples of the plural with -eden termination, and
three only of the ending -ede, viz. ii. 2063, ‘Thogh that he lovede ten or
tuelve,’ ii. 2453, ‘Supplantede the worthi knyht,’ and v. 1678, ‘He percede
the harde roche,’ of which the first is really a case of syncope, ‘lov’de,’ as
also ii. 502 (cp. vi. 882) and iv. 1593, whereas in ii. 2027 ‘lovede’ occurs
unsyncopated but with -e elided. It will be noted that in the plural the form -
eden is used regularly when the syllables are to be fully pronounced, though
-ede can be used for the sake of elision.
The -ed form of preterite is less frequent than the other, and I am not
aware of any clear example of its employment before a consonant or in
rhyme. We have, for example, ‘And used it,’ i. 342, ‘Sche cleped him,’ i.
1535 (‘humbled him,’ i. 2065, is probably a participle, ‘to have humbled
himself’), ‘pryded I me,’ i. 2372, ‘ne feigned I,’ ii. 2061, ‘the goddes ...
Comanded him,’ iii. 2140 f., ‘Thei cleped him,’ v. 876, cp. 1057, &c. In iii.
1759, ‘The Gregois torned fro the siege,’ we have most probably a
participle, ‘were torned.’ We may observe that the -ed form stands also in
the plural.

Among weak preterites from originally strong verbs we may notice
abreide, crepte (but past participle crope), foghte, fledde, schotte, slepte
(also slep, with past participle slepe), smette (beside smot), wepte. The pret.
satte in vii. 2282, ‘He satte him thanne doun,’ seems to arise from confusion
of sat and sette.
Imperative. The Confessio Amantis is peculiarly rich in imperatives.
Beside the regular imperative singular forms, e.g. ared, besech, behold,
ches, com, do, forsak, griet, help, hier, hyd, kep, lef, ly, lei, lest, lep, prei,
put, say, schrif, spek, tak, tell, thenk, understond, ȝif, &c., the MSS. give us
also hyde, iii. 1502, seie, vii. 4084, speke, vii. 5422, take, iv. 2674, v. 6429,
thenke, iii. 1083, but not in such positions as to affect the metre. The forms
axe, herkne, loke, wite are regular, but lok also occurs (i. 1703, v. 1220).
In some instances the short form of imperative seems to be used as 3rd
pers., e.g. ‘hold clos the ston,’ v. 3573, for ‘let him hold,’ ‘tak in his minde,’
viii. 1128, for ‘let him take,’ cp. viii. 1420. The singular and plural forms
are often used without distinction, as v. 2333 ff., ‘Ches ... and witeth ... ches
and tak ... goth ... taketh,’ v. 3986, ‘So help me nou, I you beseche,’ with
‘Helpeth,’ just above, several persons being addressed, and so ‘taketh hiede
And kep conseil,’ viii. 1509 f., to one person. In the interchange of speech
between the Confessor and the Lover, while sometimes the distinction is
preserved, the Confessor saying tak, tell, understond, and the Lover telleth,
axeth (e.g. i. 1395, 1875), at other times the Lover says lest, say, tell, lef,
&c. (i. 1942, 1972, ii. 2074, iii. 841, &c.)AA.
Present Participle. The form of the present participle is the most
characteristic part of Gower’s verb inflexion as compared (for example)
with Chaucer’s. Chaucer seems regularly to have used the form in -inge
(often with apocope -ing): Gower uses ordinarily the form -ende, and
normally with the accent thrown on the termination, as i. 204, ‘To me
spekende thus began,’ 236, ‘Whos Prest I am touchende of love,’ 428,
‘Stondende as Stones hiere and there,’ 633, ‘So that semende of liht thei
werke,’ 1379 f., ‘That for I se no sped comende, ... compleignende,’ 1682,
‘Hangende doun unto the chin.’
Sometimes the same form is used with accent on the preceding syllable,
and in this case the -e is systematically elided, e.g. Prol. 11, ‘In tyme
comende after this,’ 259, ‘Belongende unto the presthode,’ i. 296, ‘As

touchende of my wittes fyve’ (cp. 334, 742), 3025, ‘And wailende in his
bestly stevene.’
In a relatively small number of instances the form -inge occurs either in
rhyme, as i. 524, ‘So whan thei comen forth seilinge,’ in rhyme with
‘singe,’ i. 1710, ‘And liveth, as who seith, deyinge,’ in rhyme with ‘likynge’
(subst.), or with the accent thrown back, as i. 115, ‘Wisshinge and wepinge
al myn one,’ v. 518, ‘Abidinge in hir compaignie,’ vi. 717, ‘I mai go fastinge
everemo’; rarely out of rhyme and with accent, as i. 2721, ‘Mi fader, as
touchinge of al.’
The final e is never lost in writing, but when the accent is thrown back it
is always elided.
Past Participle. The -id termination of weak past participles is very
rarely found in the Fairfax MS., except in the concluding passage, which is
copied in a different hand from the rest. It occurs commonly in the Praise of
Peace. Examples found elsewhere in F are weddid, iv. 650, medlid, iv.
1475.
From setten besides the regular past participle set there appears the form
sete twice in rhyme, vii. 2864, forȝete: sete, and viii. 244, misgete (past
partic.): upsete. This seems to be formed after the analogy of gete. On the
other hand we have ferd, i. 445, &c., but also fare(n), iii. 2692, v. 3797, &c.
The past participle of se is sen, sein, seie, but most commonly sene. In a
few instances a final e is given by the MSS. in weak past participles, e.g.
herde for herd, v. 4231, schope for schop, v. 4278, sette for set, vi. 10, wiste
for wist, viii. 37.
The cases of weak past participles with plural inflexion (e.g. Prol. 300,
i. 3246, iv. 2343, v. 6789) have already been mentioned in dealing with
adjectives.
There is hardly any use of the prefix y- (i-), but we have ybore, ii. 499.

vi. Dialect. Gower’s language is undoubtedly in the main the English
of the Court, and not a provincial dialect. Making allowance for the
influences of literary culture and for a rather marked conservatism in
orthography and grammatical inflexions, we can see that it agrees on the
whole with the London speech of the time, as evidenced by the

contemporary documents referred to by Prof. Morsbach. At the same time
its tendencies are Southern rather than Midland, and he seems to have used
Kentish forms rather more freely than Chaucer. This is shown especially (1)
in the more extensive use of the forms in which e stands for O. E. y̆ , as
senne, kesse, pet, hell, &c.; (2) in the frequent employment of ie, both in
French and English words, to represent ẹ̄, a practice which can hardly be
without connexion with the Kentish cliene, diepe, diere, hier, hield, niede,
&c.; (3) in the use of -ende as the normal termination of the present
participle. (The Ayenbite regularly has -inde.) Probably also the preference
shown by Gower for the close sound of ē, from O. E. ǣ, may be to some
extent due to Kentish influence. Other points of resemblance between the
language of Gower and that of the Ayenbite (for example) are the free use of
syncopated forms in the 3rd pers. sing. of verbs and the regular employment
of ous for us.

vii. Metre, &c. The smoothness and regularity of Gower’s metre has
been to some extent recognized. Dr. Schipper in Englische Metrik, vol. i. p.
279, remarks upon the skill with which the writer, while preserving the
syllabic rule, makes his verse flow always so smoothly without doing
violence to the natural accentuation of the words, and giving throughout the
effect of an accent verse, not one which is formed by counting syllables.
Judging by the extracts printed in Morris and Skeat’s Specimens (which are
taken from MS. Harl. 3869, and therefore give practically the text of Fairfax
3), he observes that the five principal licences which he has noted generally
in the English verse of the period are almost entirely absent from Gower’s
octosyllabics, and in particular that he neither omits the first unaccented
syllable, as Chaucer so often does (e.g. ‘Be it rouned, red or songe,’ Hous of
Fame, ii. 214, ‘Any lettres for to rede,’ iii. 51, ‘Of this hill that northward
lay,’ iii. 62), nor displaces the natural accent (as ‘Of Decembre the tenthe
day,’ Hous of Fame, i. 111, ‘Jupiter considereth wel this,’ ii. 134, ‘Rounede
everych in otheres ere,’ iii. 954), nor slurs over syllables.
To say that Gower never indulges in any of these licences would be an
exaggeration. Some displacement of the natural accent may be found
occasionally, even apart from the case of those French words whose accent
was unsettled, but it is present in a very slight degree, and the rhythm
produced does not at all resemble that of the lines cited above from

Chaucer: e.g. i. 2296, ‘Wher that he wolde make his chace,’ 2348, ‘Under
the grene thei begrave,’ 2551, ‘“Drink with thi fader, Dame,” he seide.’
Such as it is, this licence is nearly confined to the first foot of the verse, and
is not so much a displacement of the natural accent of the words as a
trochaic commencement, after the fashion which has established itself as an
admitted variety in the English iambic. We may, however, read long
passages of the Confessio Amantis without finding any line in which the
accent is displaced even to this extent.
Again, as to slurring of syllables, this no doubt takes place, but on
regular principles and with certain words or combinations only. There are
hardly more than three or four lines in the whole of the Confessio Amantis
where a superfluous syllable stands unaccounted for in the body of the
verse, as for example,

iv. 1131, ‘Som time in chambre, som time in halle,’
v. 447, ‘Of Jelousie, bot what it is,’
v. 2914, ‘And thus ful ofte aboute the hals,’
v. 5011, ‘It was fantosme, bot yit he herde.’

The writer seems to have no need of any licences. The narrative flows on in
natural language, and in sentences and periods which are apparently not
much affected by the exigencies of metre or rhyme, and yet the verse is
always smooth and the rhyme never fails to be correct. If this is not
evidence of the highest style of art, it shows at least very considerable skill.
In Gower’s five-accent line, as exhibited in the Supplication of viii.
2217-2300 and in the poem In Praise of Peace, Schipper finds less
smoothness of metre, ‘owing perhaps to the greater unfamiliarity and
difficulty of the stanza and verse’ (Englische Metrik, i. 483 ff.). His
examples, however, are not conclusive on this point. Some of the lines cited
owe their irregularity to corruptions of text, and others prove to be quite
regularly in accordance with Gower’s usual metrical principles.
For instance, in viii. 2220 the true text is

‘That wher so that I reste or I travaile,’

which is a metrically perfect line. Again, in the Praise of Peace, l. 79,

‘And to the heven it ledeth ek the weie,’

it is impossible, according to Gower’s usage, that ‘heven’ should stand as a
dissyllable. He wrote always ‘hevene,’ and the penultimate was syncopated.
So also ‘levere’ in l. 340, ‘evere,’ l. 376. Hence there is no ‘epic caesura’ in
any of these cases. Nor again in l. 164, ‘Crist is the heved,’ can ‘heved’ be
taken as a dissyllable in the verse: it is always metrically equivalent to
‘hed.’ The only fair instance of a superfluous syllable at the caesura is in l.
66,

‘For of bataile the final ende is pees.’

It seems that the trochee occurs more commonly here than in the short line.
Such examples as Schipper quotes, occurring at the beginning of the line,

‘Axe of thi god, so schalt thou noght be werned,’
‘Pes is the chief of al the worldes welthe,’

are of the same character as those which we find in the octosyllabics.
Perhaps, however, a difference is afforded by the more frequent occurrence
of the same licence in other parts of the verse, as,

‘So that undir his swerd it myht obeie,’ 39.

The rhyming on words like ‘manhode,’ ‘axinge,’ &c., is in accordance with
the poet’s general usage.
On the whole, the combination of the syllabic and the accentual system
is effected in the five-accent line of these stanzas almost as completely as in
the short couplet; and in his command of the measure, in the variety of his
caesura, and the ease with which he passes without pause from line to line
and rounds off the stanza with the matter, the author shows himself to be as

fully master of his craft upon this ground as in the more familiar measure of
the Confessio Amantis.
As regards the treatment of weak syllables in the metre, Gower’s
practice, in accordance with the strict syllabic system which he adopted, is
very different from Chaucer’s. The rules laid down by ten Brink, Chaucers
Sprache, § 260, as to the cases in which weak final e is never counted as a
syllable in the verse, except in rhyme, require some qualification even when
applied to Chaucer (for example, ‘sone’ is certainly a dissyllable in Cant.
Tales, A 1963, Hous of Fame, i. 218), and they are almost wholly
inapplicable to Gower, as we shall see if we examine them. (α) Gower has
the forms hire, oure, ȝoure, all occasionally as dissyllables apart from
special emphasis or rhyme. (β) these, some, whiche are all sometimes
dissyllables. (γ) The strong participles with short stems as come, drive,
write as a rule have the final e sounded. (δ) The -e of the 2nd pers. sing. of
the strong preterite may be sounded, e.g. iii. 2629 (but ‘Were thou,’ iv. 600).
(ε) The form made, both singular and plural, regularly has -e sounded, were
(pret.) usually, and wite sometimes. (ζ) sone, wone, schipe (dat.), and the
French words in -ie (ye), &c., have -e regularly counted in the metre: so
also beste, entente, tempeste. (η) before, tofore, there are used in both ways.
Gower’s usage with reference to this matter is as follows:
The personal and possessive pronouns hire, oure, ȝoure, here and hise (as plural of
his), written also hir, our, &c., are as a rule treated as monosyllables. We have
however ‘Fro hire, which was naked al,’ i. 367, ‘And thenke untoward hire drawe,’ iv.
559, so v. 1178, 2757, vii. 1899, &c., ‘In oure tyme among ous hiere,’ Prol. 5 (but
‘Oure king hath do this thing amis,’ i. 2062), ‘As ȝe be ȝoure bokes knowe,’ iii. 1087,
cp. v. 2951 (but ‘Bot, fader, of ȝoure lores wise,’ i. 2768). Add to these alle (pl.)
before definite article.
In the following words also the final e is sometimes suppressed for the verse:
these (also thes), Prol. 900, 1037, i. 435, ii. 237, &c. (but thesë, v. 813, 1127, vii.
1005, &c.): whiche plur. (also which), ii. 604, iv. 1496, &c. (but whichë, i. 404, v.
1269, vii. 822, 1256, &c.): eche (also ech), v. 6883, according to F, cp. Prol. 516:
there (usually ther), viii. 2311, 2689 (but therë, iii. 1233, &c., and often in rhyme):
were pret. ind. or subj. (also wer), iii. 1600, iv. 600, 1657, 1689 (but more usually
werë, as Prol. 1072, iii. 762, v. 2569, vii. 4458): where (usually wher), v. 4355 (but
wherë, v. 2720): more (also mor), ii. 26, v. 2239, 6207, vii. 3237 (but morë, Prol. 55*,
640, iv. 2446, vii. 3287, &c.): before, tofore (also befor, tofor), i. 2054, 2864, iii. 2052
(but beforë, Prol. 848, and often in rhyme): foure, vii. 2371 (but fourë, ii. 1037, iv.
2464): fare (wel), iii. 305, iv. 1378 (but farëwel, v. 4218): sire, i. 2878, ii. 2995 (but
sirë, v. 3547, 5593): wite, ii. 455 (but witë, v. 3150, 3445): wole (also wol), v. 2891,
2911, &c.: bothe, ii. 1966, 2154, iv. 2138, &c. (but bothë, Prol. 1068, i. 851, &c.):
wolde (also wold), v. 4413 (usually woldë): come, ii. 789, iv. 2826 (but comë, pp. iv.
1283, vi. 1493, vii. 4840, inf. viii. 1362): some, pl. subst., iii. 2112, v. 2252 (but somë,

i. 2034 ff.): have, Prol. 708, i. 169, 2724, ii. 550, iv. 1600 (but havë, ii. 332, iv. 1598):
love, subst. iv. 930, vi. 1261 (but lovë much more often, e.g. i. 103, 251, 760, &c.):
tuelve (also tuelf), iv. 1983 (but tuelvë, vii. 1005): trewe (also trew), v. 2877 (but
trewë, pl., Prol. 184, def., iii. 2228): mowe, inf. (also mow), iv. 38: seie, inf. and 1st s.
pres. iii. 1737, iv. 672, v. 2616, 6428, &c. (but seië often): preie, 1st s. pres. (also
prai), v. 4531 (but preië, v. 3230): furthere, forthere (also further, forther), iii. 81,
885: lengere (also lenger), i. 1516, ii. 2602: rathere (also rather), ii. 503, vii. 4161,
viii. 2141: janglere, v. 526: also some isolated cases, as aboute, v. 2914, Take, v. 7169,
Minotaure, v. 5327 (but Minotaurë, 5291, &c.), Theophile, viii. 1500.
In iv. 1131, v. 447, 5011, which we have quoted above, the superfluous syllable in
each case may be connected with the pause in the sentence, as in Mirour de l’omme,
10623, ‘L’un ad franchise, l’autre ad servage.’

Syncope (so far as regards the metre) regularly takes place in the
following: covere (discovere, &c.), delivere (but not deliverance, i. 1584, v.
1657), evene, evere, fievere, havene, hevene, levere, nevere, povere, sevene
(also sefne), swevene (also swefne), and some other words of a similar kind,
to which add heved, evel, devel. In these cases a final e is always
pronounced unless elided, and in case of elision a word like hevene, nevere
is reduced to a monosyllable, as

‘This world which evere is in balance.’

The following also are sometimes syncopated: lovede, loveden, ii. 502,
vi. 882, but without syncope ii. 2027, beloved, i. 1928, belovëd, i. 1920 f.,
behovely, behovelich, iii. 1330, v. 4012, vii. 1949 (but unbehovëly, viii.
2884), leveful, v. 7053, Averil, vii. 1029, soverein, vii. 1776 (but usually
three syllables, as Prol. 186, i. 1609, and sovereinete, five syllables, i.
1847), amorous, iii. 745 (but usually three syllables, as i. 1414), fader, ii.
2387, cp. fadre, ii. 2519 (but ordinarily a dissyllable), unkendeli, ii. 3124
(but unkindëly, iii. 2065), comelieste, comelihiede, v. 3048, 6734 (but
comëly, ii. 441), namely, viii. 3041, also namly, ii. 47 (but usually three
syllables, as Prol. 144, iii. 63), Termegis, iv. 2408. We may note, however,
that this kind of syncope is less used by Gower than by Chaucer, and that
chivalerie, chivalerous, foreward, foretokne, loveday, pilegrin, surquiderie,
&c., are fully pronounced.
Unaccented i before weak e either final or in inflexions has the force of a semi-
vowel, and forms no syllable of itself: so studie, carie, tarie, chirie, merie, manye,
&c. are equivalent to dissyllables, and are reduced by elision to the value of
monosyllables, as Prol. 323, ‘To studie upon the worldes lore,’ i. 452, ‘To tarie with a
mannes thoght,’ i. 3238, ‘And manye it hielden for folie,’ ii. 2648, ‘Thei carie til thei

come at Kaire’; and so also in the other parts of the same words, e.g. i. 1645, ‘And
thus he tarieth long and late,’ and in plurals like bodies, iv. 2463. Similarly Mercurie
is made into a dissyllable by elision, ‘And ek the god Mercurie also,’ i. 422. Akin to
this in treatment is the frequent combination many a, many an, counting as two
syllables (so ‘ful many untrewe,’ v. 2886), but many on, manion as three. We may
note also the case of statue, Prol. 891, ‘As I tolde of the Statue above,’ which is
reduced by elision to a monosyllable.

Elision of weak final e takes place regularly before a vowel or an
unaspirated h. We must observe that several classical proper names ending
originally in ē, as Alceone, Daphne, Progne, Phebe, have weak e and are
subject to elision, and under this head it may be noted that Canace rhymes
to place, whereas Chaucer (referring to Gower’s story) gives the name as
Canacee, in rhyme with he. Also the combinations byme, tome, tothe, &c.,
have weak -e and are elided before a vowel.
An aspirated h prevents elision as effectively as any other consonant.
We have ‘min holë herte,’ ‘gretë hornes,’ ‘Cadmë hyhte,’ ‘Mi Sonë, herkne,’
‘proprë hous,’ ‘fastë holde’ (and even ‘othrë herbes,’ iv. 3008); but there are
some words in which h is aspirated only when they are emphatic in sense or
position, as have, hath, he, him, hire, how, &c. For example, elision takes
place usually before have, he, how, but not so as a rule in cases where they
are used in rhyme or with special emphasis, e.g. i. 2542, ‘Of such werk as it
scholde have,’ ii. 2479, cp. v. 7766, ‘Wenende that it were he,’ iv. 3604,
‘And al the cause hou it wente.’ On the other hand, the preterite hadde
seems to have an aspirated h even in unemphatic position, as ii. 589, ‘The
Sceptre hadde forto rihte’: compare vii. 2364, ‘Victoire hadde upon his fo,’
with vii. 2392, ‘Thogh thou victoire have nou on honde.’ Elision also takes
place before hierafter, though not before hiere.
There is one instance of hiatus, viii. 110, ‘That he his Sone Isaäc,’ and it
may be noted that the same thing occurs with the same name in the Mirour,
12241, ‘De Isaak auci je lis.’
The article the regularly coalesces with a succeeding word beginning with a vowel
or mute h, as thaffeccioun, thalemans, thamende, thapostel, thastat, theffect,
themperour, thenvious, therbage, therthe, thexperience, thonour, thother,
thunsemlieste, thyle, &c. The exceptions, which are very few, are cases of special
emphasis, as i. 3251, ‘The Erthe it is.’ Similarly the negative particle ne with a
succeeding verb beginning with a vowel, as nam, naproche, nis (but ne have), and
also occasionally with some words beginning with w, forming nere, nost, not, nyle,
nyste, &c. In some few instances to coalesces with the gerund, as tacompte, teschuie.

There is diaeresis regularly in such proper names as Theseüs, Peleüs,
Tereüs, and also in Saül, Isaäc. We have Moïses usually, but Moises
(dissyllable), iv. 648, Thaise usually, but Thaïsis in the epitaph, viii. 1536.
One example occurs affecting the -ee termination, viz. Caldeë, v. 781
(usually a dissyllable), so Judeë, Galileë in Mirour, 20067, 29239. This is
an essentially different case from that of degreës, which is found in
Chaucer. The termination -ius is usually dissyllabic, but vii. 2967, ‘The god
Mercurius and no man.’ The endings -ioun, -ious, -ien, &c., are always fully
pronounced.
As regards accent, it has been already observed that the natural accent
of words is preserved far better in Gower’s verse than in Chaucer’s. There
are, however, a number of words of French origin, of which the accent was
unsettled, and also some instances of English words in which a secondary
syllable was capable of receiving the principal accent, either in case of
composition, as in kingdom, knihthode, treweliche, or with a formative
termination, as that of the superlative, fairéste, &c., or the present
participle, as wepénde. In such cases the accent was often determined by the
metre. Many Romance words are quite freely treated in the matter of
accent, as for example folie, fortune, mercy, mirour, nature, parfit, preiere,
resoun, science, sentence, tempeste. The terminations -hode, -hede, -inge, -
liche, -ly, -nesse, -schipe are all capable of accent, and also the penultimate
syllables of answere and felawe.
Nearly all that is important about rhyme has already been said under the
head of Phonology. We may here remark on some of the instances in which
the form of words is accommodated to the rhyme, these being sometimes
cases where variants are supplied by neighbouring dialects. Thus we have
aise for ese, ar for er, hair for heir, naght once for noght, fer once for fyr,
hade, with the original long vowel, for hadde, geth (the originally correct
form) for goth, fore for for; and alternatives such as moneie monoie, aweie
awey away, seide saide, soverein soverain, are used in accordance with the
rhyme, though it is difficult to say for certain in all cases whether there was
difference of sound. Thus, while we have away as rhyme to day, awey is
found rhyming to ey, i. 2545, said, saide rhyming with paid, Maide, while
seide rhymes with alleide, obeide; we find soverein : aȝein, but brayn :
soverain. The form yhe often varies to ÿe when in rhyme with -ie
termination, as clergie : ÿe, Prol. 329 f., ÿe : agonie, i. 967 f. (but also yhe :

pourpartie, i. 405 f., yhe : specefie, i. 571 f.). Sometimes however the other
rhyme-word is modified to correspond to it, as pryhe : yhe, v. 469 f., and
there was probably no perceptible difference of pronunciation in this case.
So also the preterite lowh is written low when in rhyme with now, Prol.
1071, and similarly thou : ynou, vii. 2099 f. (but bowe: ynowhe, ii. 3225 f.).
We have already seen that the use of such alternative forms as sinne senne,
wile wole, lasse lesse, hedde hidde, -ende -inge is sometimes determined by
the rhyme.
Alliteration is used by Gower in a manner which is especially
characteristic of the new artistic style of poetry. It is sufficiently frequent,
both in formal combinations, such as ‘cares colde,’ ‘lusty lif,’ ‘park and
plowh,’ ‘swerd or spere,’ ‘lief and loth,’ ‘wel or wo,’ ‘dike and delve,’ ‘slepe
softe,’ ‘spille ... spede,’ and as an element of the versification:

i. 886 f. ‘For so, thei seide, al stille and softe
God Anubus hire wolde awake.’
iv. 2590 ‘The lost is had, the lucre is lore.’
iv. 3384 f. ‘Which many a man hath mad to falle,
Wher that he mihte nevere arise.’
v. 3670 f. ‘And thanne he gan to sighe sore,
And sodeinliche abreide of slep.’
vii. 3468 f. ‘Sche hath hir oghne bodi feigned,
For feere as thogh sche wolde flee.’

But it is not introduced in accordance with any fixed rules, and it often
assists the flow of the verse without in the least attracting the attention of
the reader. We do not find any examples of the rather exaggerated popular
style which Chaucer sometimes adopts in passages of violent action, e.g.
Cant. Tales, A 2604 ff. The whole subject of alliteration in Gower has been
carefully dealt with by P. Höfer in his dissertation, Alliteration bei Gower,
1890, where a very large number of examples are cited and classified; and
to this the reader may be referred.

viii. Text and Manuscripts. About forty manuscript copies of the
Confessio Amantis are known to exist in public or private libraries or in the

hands of booksellers, and probably there may be a few more in private
possession, the existence of which has not yet been recorded. As the broad
lines for their classification are necessarily laid down by the fact that the
book was put forth by the author in several different forms, it is necessary,
before proceeding further, to say something about this matter.
That the poem exists in at least two distinct forms, characterized by
obvious differences near the beginning and at the end, has been matter of
common knowledge. Even in Berthelette’s edition of 1532 the difference at
the beginning was noted, and though the printer did not venture to deviate
from the form of text which had been made current by Caxton, yet he gave
in his preface the beginning of the poem as he found it in his manuscript.
Dr. Pauli accordingly proceeded on the assumption that there were two
normal forms, one having a dedication to Richard II at the beginning and a
form of conclusion in which mention is made of Chaucer, and the other
with a dedication to Henry of Lancaster and a conclusion in which Chaucer
is not mentioned. Copies which do not conform to these standards are for
him simply irregular. He is aware of the additional passages in Berthelette’s
edition and in the Stafford MS., and in one place he speaks of three classes
of MSS., but he does not know that there are any written copies except the
Stafford MS. which contain the additional passages. If he had had personal
knowledge of the manuscripts at Oxford and at Cambridge, instead of being
satisfied to gather scraps of information about the former from Bodley’s
Librarian and about the latter from Todd, he would have found the passages
in question also in MS. Bodley 294 at Oxford and in the Trinity and Sidney
MSS. at Cambridge.
There are then at least these three classes of manuscripts to be
recognized even by a superficial observer, and we shall find that the more
obvious differences which have been mentioned are accompanied by a
number of others of less importance. The first recension according to our
classification is that in which the conclusion of the poem contains praises of
Richard II as a just and beneficent ruler and a presentation of the book for
his acceptanceAB. The second has the additional passages of the fifth and
seventh books, with a rearrangement of the sixth book which has not
hitherto been noticed, while the conclusion of the poem has been rewritten
so as to exclude the praises of the king, and in some copies there is also a
new preface with dedication to Henry of Lancaster. The third exhibits a

return to the form of the first as regards the additional passages, but has the
rewritten preface and epilogue. Against this merely threefold division some
objections might fairly be made. It might be pointed out that the so-called
second recension includes at least two distinct forms, and moreover that
upon further examination we see reason to divide the manuscripts of our
first recension into two main groups, one exhibiting an earlier and the other
a later text, this last being more in accordance generally with that of what
we call the second and third recensions than with the earlier form of the
first. For practical purposes, however, the division which has been laid
down above may fairly be adopted. As regards the order of time, from the
political tendency of the differences between them it is clear that what we
call the first recension logically precedes the third. The intermediate
position of the second is given chiefly by the fact that one of the seven
existing manuscripts gives the earlier form of preface, and this may also
have been the case with two others, which are defective at the beginningAC.
However, as has been said, the name is used for convenience to cover a
class of copies which, as regards the character of their text, do not all
belong to the same period, and they must be looked upon as representing
rather a concurrent variety of the first or the third recensionAD than as a
type which is distinctly intermediate in order of time. At the same time the
smaller variations of text exhibited by these seven MSS. in combination, as
against all othersAE, mark them as really a family apart, more closely
related to one another than to those that lie outside the group.
For the sake of clearness the manuscripts are in this edition regularly
grouped according to this classification, and in the critical notes each class
is cited by itself. At the same time it must not be assumed that the
manuscripts of each recension stand necessarily by themselves, and that no
connexion is traceable between one class and another. On the contrary, we
shall find that many errors in the text of the first recension appear also in
some copies of the second, and even of the third. The process by which this
was brought about is made clearer to us by the fact that we have an example
of a manuscript which has passed from one group into another partly by
erasure and partly by substitution of leaves, apparently made under the
direction of the author. This is MS. Fairfax 3, which forms the basis of our
text, and the handwriting of some of the substituted pages is one which may
be recognized as belonging to the ‘scriptorium’ of the poet.

The example is a suggestive one and serves to explain several things. It
makes it easy to understand, for example, how the additional matter
introduced into the second recension came to be omitted in the third. The
author in this instance had before him a very fully revised and corrected
copy of his first edition, and this by a certain amount of rewriting over
erasure and by a substitution of leaves at the beginning and end of the poem
was converted into a copy of what we call the third recension, which his
scribes could use at once as an authoritative exemplar. The introduction of
the additional passages in the fifth and seventh books could not have been
effected without a process of recopying the whole book, which would have
called for much additional labour of the nature of proof-reading on the part
of the author, in order to secure its correctness. This argument would apply
to a book which was intended to remain in the hands of the author, or rather
of the scribes whom he employed, and to be used as an archetype from
which copies were to be made. If a new book had to be specially prepared
for presentation, the case would be different, and it might then be worth
while to incorporate the additional passages with the fully revised and re-
dedicated text, as we find was done in the case of the so-called Stafford MS.
Another matter which can evidently be explained in the same way is the
reappearance in some copies of the second recension of errors which belong
to the first. In producing the originals of such manuscripts as these, partially
revised copies of the first recension must have been used as the basis, and
such errors as had not yet received correction appear in the new edition.
The assumption that a certain number of errors are original, that is to
say, go back either to the author’s own autograph or to the transcript first
made from it, is in itself probable: we know in fact that some which appear
in every copy, without exception, of the first and second recensions at
length receive correction by erasure in Fairfax 3. So far as we can judge, the
text of the Confessio Amantis during its first years exhibited a steady
tendency to rid itself of error, and the process of corruption in the ordinary
sense can hardly be said to have set in until after the death of the author.
There are a large number of various readings in the case of which we find
on the one side the great majority of first recension MSS., and on the other
a small number of this same type together with practically the whole of the
second and third recensions, as, for exampleAF:

i. 2836 to H₁XERCLB₂ do AJMG, SAdBΔΛ, FWH₃
2847 be om. H₁XGERCLB₂ ins. AJM, SAdBΔ, FWH₃
2953 wele H ... B₂ weie AJM, SAd BΔ, FWH₃
3027 preieth H₁ ... B₂, W braieth, AJM, S ... ΔΛ, FH₃
3374 an Erl hier H₁ ... B₂, Λ mad a Pier AJM, SAdBΔ, FW (H₃ def.)
3381 place H₁ ... B₂, BΛ maide AJM, SAdΔ, FW (H₃ defective)
ii. 833 that diere H₁ ... B₂, B that other AJ(M), SAdΔΛ, FWH₃
iii. 12 euermore H₁ ... B₂ enemy AJM, SAdBTΔ, FWH₃
354 I may H₁ ... B₂ he may AJM, SAdBTΔ, FWH₃
iv. 109 day H₁ ... B₂, H₃ lay AJM, SBTΔ, FW (Ad def.)
v. 316 thanne (than) H₁ ... B₂, Δ hom AJM, SAdBTΔ, FWH₃
368 And for no drede now wol I wonde H₁ ... B₂, Λ In helle thou schalt
understonde AJM, S ... Δ, FWH₃ cp. 394, 424, 786, &c.
2694 Whan that sche was bot of ȝong age For good ERCLB₂ That only for thilke
avantage Of good AJMH₁XG, S ... ΔΛ, FWH₃
2771 nyh om. ERCLB₂ ins. AJMH₁XG, S ... Δ, FWH₃
3110 burned as the silver ERCLB₂ burned was as selver AJMH₁XG, S ... ΔΛ,
FWH₃ cp. 3032, 3246, &c.

We see in these examples, selected as fairly typical, that some of the
variants have evidently the character of errors, while in other cases the
difference of reading is due to an alternative version. The circumstances,
however, of these two cases are not distinguishable, the errors are supported
by as much authority as the rest, and it must be supposed that both have the
same origin. If then we assume that such variations as we find (for
example) in i. 3396, 3416, v. 30, 47, 82, 368, 2694, &c., are due to the
author, as is almost certain, there can be no doubt that the form of text
which is given by the group AJM in combination with the second and third
recensions is the later of the two: and if the group H₁ ... B₂ represents an
earlier type as regards this class of variation, it must surely do so also as
regards the errors, which, as we have seen, stand upon the same ground in
respect of manuscript authority. As we cannot help believing that the author
wrote originally ‘To holde hir whil my lif may laste,’ v. 82, and ‘The more
he hath the more he greedeth,’ v. 394, so we may reasonably suppose that
errors such as ‘it’ for ‘hid,’ i. 1755, ‘that diere’ for ‘that other,’ ii. 833,
‘what’ for ‘war,’ iii. 1065, existed in the copy which first served as an
exemplar.

It may be observed here that in cases where revision seems to have
taken place, we can frequently see a definite reason for the change; either
the metre is made more smooth, as i. 1770, 2622, 3374, ii. 671, 751, 1763,
iii. 765, 2042, 2556, iv. 234, v. 368, 1678, &c., or some name is altered into
a more correct form, as where ‘Element’ is changed to ‘Clemenee,’ iv. 985,
with a corresponding alteration of the rhyme, or the expression and run of
the sentence is improved, as i. 368, 3416, v. 30, 1906, 6756, &c. In
particular we note the tendency towards increased smoothness of metre
which is shown in dealing with weak e terminations.
It is to be assumed on the principles which have been stated that the
group ERCLB₂ and the other manuscripts which agree with them represent
with more or less accuracy the first form of the author’s text, that H₁YXG
and a few more form a class in which correction and revision has taken
place to some extent, but partially and unsystematically, and that AJM &c.
give us the first recension text in a much more fully revised and corrected
form.
It has been already said that F was originally a manuscript of the first
recension. We shall find however that it did not exactly correspond to any
existing first recension manuscript. Setting aside the small number of
individual mistakes to be found in it, there are perhaps about eighty
instances (many of a very trifling character) in which its text apparently
differed originally from that of any first recension copy which we have, and
in about half of these the text of F agrees with that of the second recension.
The manuscript which comes nearest to F in most respects is J (St. John’s
Coll., Camb.), and there is a considerable number of instances in which this
MS. stands alone among first recension copies in agreement with the
Fairfax text. In the sixth book, for example, if J be set aside, there are at
least twenty-three passages in which F gives an apparently genuine reading
unsupported by the first recension; but in sixteen of these cases J is in
agreement with F. It must be noted, however, that this state of things is not
equally observable in the earlier part of the poem, and indeed does not
become at all marked until the fifth book.
Besides variations of reading, there are in the Fairfax MS. a few
additions to the text which are not found in any first recension copy. These
are Prol. 495-498, 579-584 and i. 1403-1406, two passages of four lines
each and one of six, as well as some additions to the Latin notes in the

margin (at Prol. 195, i. 2705, and v. 7725), of which the first two were
evidently put in later than the accompanying text. Finally, there are three
other additions to the text which are found in a single copy of the first
recension, MS. Harl. 3490 (H₁). These are i. 2267-2274, where four lines
have been expanded into eight, i. 2343-2358, an interesting addition of
sixteen lines to the tale of Narcissus, and i. 2369-2372. Thus in the matter
of additions to the text H₁ stands nearer to F than AJM &c., and in a few
other passages also it is found standing alone of its recension in company
with F, e.g. i. 2043, 2398, ii. 2247. This manuscript does not belong to the
‘fully revised’ group, but it gives the revised readings more frequently
perhaps than any other outside that group.
Thus notwithstanding the differences between the first recension copies,
as we have them, and the Fairfax MS. as it originally stood, we shall have
no difficulty in regarding the latter as having been originally a revised and
corrected copy of that recension, exhibiting a text to which tolerably near
approaches are made by A, J, and H₁, each in its own way, though no copy
precisely corresponding to it is known to exist.
Passing to the second recension, we must first repeat what has already
been said, that it did not supersede the first, but existed and developed by its
side, having its origin probably in the very same year, or at latest in the
next. Its characteristic point is the presence of considerable additions in the
fifth and seventh books, together with a rearrangement of part of the sixth.
There are seven manuscripts known to me, of which three are defective at
the beginning. All these (except one, which is also defective at the end)
have the rewritten epilogue, one in combination with the Chaucer verses
and the others without them. Of the four which are perfect at the beginning,
one, namely B, has the earlier form of preface, and the other three, ΛP₂ and
S, the later. Of the others it is probable, but by no means certain, that T
agreed with B in this respect, and practically certain that Δ agreed with S. A
more satisfactory line of distinction, which divides the manuscripts of this
class into two groups, is given by the general character of the text which
they exhibit, and by the insertion or omission of certain of the additional
passages of which we have spoken. While some of the passages, viz. v.
6395*-6438*, 7086*-7210*, vii. 3207*-3360*, are common to all the
copies, as are also the transposition of vi. 665-964 and (except in case of Λ)
the omission of v. 7701-7746, three of them are found in AdBTΛP₂ only,

and are omitted in SΔAG, viz. v. 7015*-7036*, vii. 2329*-2340* and
3149*-3180*. Then, as regards the text generally, the five MSS. first
mentioned all have connexions of various kinds with the unrevised form of
the first recension, while the last two represent a type which, except as
regards variants specially characteristic of the second recension, of which
there may be about sixty in all, nearly corresponds with that of the Fairfax
MS.AH
The relations of the group AdBTΛP₂ with the first recension and with
one another are difficult to clear up satisfactorily. Broadly, it may be said
that of these B represents an earlier type than the rest in regard to correction
and Λ in regard to revision: that is to say, B retains a large number of first
recension errors which do not appear in the rest (sharing some, however,
with Λ), while at the same time, in cases where a line has been rewritten B
almost regularly has the altered form, though with some exceptions in the
first two books. On the other hand, though it often happens that Λ is free
from original errors which appear in B, yet in many places where B has the
revised form of text Λ gives us the original, in agreement with the earlier
first recension type, while in others Λ agrees with B in giving the revised
reading. Then again, there can be no doubt of the close connexion between
B and T, but the agreement between them is not usually on those points in
which B follows the first recension in error. It is as if they had been derived
from the same archetype, but T (or a manuscript from which T was copied)
sprang from it at a later stage than the original of B, when many of the
errors noted in the first recension had been corrected, while the text of the
book generally was allowed to remain as it wasAI. Finally, the text of Ad
approaches very near to a fully revised and corrected type. It very
occasionally reproduces the earlier first recension, as if by accident, but
seems never deliberately to give an ‘unrevised’ reading. It should be
observed that from a point towards the end of the fifth book (about v. 6280)
AdBT is a group which is very frequently found in special agreement,
whereas before that point we usually find BT (or BTΛ) with Ad on the other
side.
Passing now to the third recension, which has the preface and epilogue
as in Λ and S, but excludes the additional passages, we find it represented
by eight manuscripts, with Fairfax 3 at their head. We have already seen
that this manuscript was originally one of the first recension, and was

altered by the author so as to substitute the new epilogue and the new
preface. Besides these changes, fresh lines are in several places written over
erasures, as i. 2713 f., iv. 1321 f., 1361 f., &c., the marginal date is erased at
Prol. 331, and additions have been made to the marginal notes. All these
alterations, as well as the points previously noted, in which F originally
differed from the other copies of the first recension, are reproduced in the
other MSS. of the third recension.
Of these remaining MSS. one is directly copied from F, and another
seems to be certainly derived from the same source, though perhaps not
immediately. In the case of H₃ (MS. Harl. 7184) the question of origin is not
quite so simple. Its text generally seems to suggest ultimate dependence on
F, but it is very unequal as regards accuracy, and in one part it regularly
follows the early first recension readings and seems to belong for the time
to the ERCLB₂ group. In addition to this it has a Latin marginal note at the
beginning of the Prologue, which is wanting in F. The problem is perhaps to
be solved by means of the Keswick MS. This is written in several hands,
varying greatly in accuracy, and exactly in that place where H₃ seems to
follow a first recension copy the Keswick MS. is defective, having lost
several leaves. It also contains the marginal note referred to above, and on
examination we find that a whole series of corruptions are common to the
two MSS. There seems to be very little doubt that K is the source of H₃, the
inequality of the latter MS. being to a great extent in accordance with the
change of hands in K, and the variation of H₃ in a portion of the third book
to a different type of text being exactly coincident with the gap left in K by
loss of leaves, a loss which must apparently have taken place in the first
forty or fifty years of its existenceAJ. As to the text of K itself, in the parts
which are most carefully written it reproduces that of F with scrupulous
exactness, giving every detail of orthography and punctuation, and for the
most part following it in such small errors as it has. It is impossible for one
who places these MSS. side by side, as I have been able to do, to avoid the
conviction that in some parts at least the exemplar for K was the Fairfax
MS. itself. On the other hand, the Latin marginal note at the beginning was
derived from some other copy, and setting aside the many mistakes, which
possibly are due to mere carelessness on the part of some of the scribes, the
Keswick MS. does undoubtedly contain some readings which seem to be
derived from a different source. In form of text generally it corresponds
exactly with F, reproducing all the additions and corrections made by

erasure or otherwise, and containing the same Latin and French pieces in
the same order at the end, so far at least as it is perfect. The Magdalen
College MS. must be derived ultimately from the same source as H₃, and it
has the same lapse from the third recension to the first, coinciding with the
gap in the Keswick book. On the other hand W, though in form of text it
corresponds with these and with F, is quite independent of the group above
mentioned, and probably also of the Fairfax MS. It is late and full of
corruptions, but in several instances it assists in the correction of errors
which appear in F, and it is apparently based on a copy which retained some
of the variants of the earlier text still uncorrected.
As for the remaining manuscript, which was formerly in the Phillipps
collection, but is now in the hands of a bookseller, I have had so little
opportunity for examining it that I ought not to attempt a classification.
Reviewing the whole body of authorities, we can recognize readily that
two are pre-eminent as witnesses for the author’s final text, that is to say, S
and F, the Stafford and the Fairfax MSS. These are practically identical in
orthography, and, except as regards the characteristic differences, which
sufficiently guarantee their independence, exhibit essentially the same text,
and one which bears the strongest marks of authenticity. Both are
contemporary with the author, and it is perhaps difficult to say which best
represents his final judgement as to the form of his work.
The Stafford MS. seems to be the earlier in time, that is to say, it
probably precedes the final conversion of the Fairfax copy. It was evidently
written for presentation to a member of the house of Lancaster, perhaps to
Henry himself before his accession to the throne. It was doubtless for some
such presentation copy that the preface was rewritten in 1392-3, with the
dedication to Henry introduced into the English text, while most of the
other copies issued during Richard’s reign probably retained their original
form. If we suppose that the new forms of preface and epilogue were at first
intended only for private circulation, we can account for the very
considerable preponderance of the first recension in regard to the number of
copies by which it is represented, and also allow sufficient time for the
gradual development of the text, first into the type which we find in A or J,
and finally into that of F, as it originally stood, a process which can hardly
be satisfactorily understood if we suppose that from 1393 onwards the
Lancastrian dedication had its place in all copies put forth by the author. It

seems on the whole probable, for reasons to be stated afterwards, that the
final conversion of F (that is as regards the preface) did not take place until
after the deposition of Richard, and it is reasonable enough to suppose that
copies were usually issued in the original form, until after that event
occurred.

Manuscripts. The following account of the MSS. is given on my own
authority in every detail. I have been able to see them all, and I wish here to
express my thanks to the possessors of them, and to the librarians who have
them in their charge, for the readiness with which they have given me the
use of them. I am indebted especially to the Councils of Trinity College and
St. John’s College, Cambridge, and to Corpus Christi, Wadham, Magdalen,
and New College, Oxford, for allowing their MSS. to be sent to the
Bodleian Library for my use, and to remain there for considerable periods.
Except in the case of one or two, to which my access was limited, I have
examined every one carefully, so that I am able to say (for example) to what
extent, if at all, they are imperfect. They are arranged as far as possible in
accordance with the classes and groups to which they belong, as follows:
1st Recension (a) AJMP₁ChN₂E₂ (b) H₁YXGOAd₂CathQ (c)
ECRLB₂SnDArHdAsh 2nd Recension (a) SΔ (b) AdTBΛP₂ 3rd Recension
FH₂NKH₃MagdWP₃ Hn

First Recension.
(a) Revised.
A. Bodley 902, Bodleian Library (formerly Arch. D. 33, not in
Bernard’s Catalogue, 1697). Contains Confessio Amantis followed by
‘Explicit iste liber’ (four lines), ‘Quam cinxere freta,’ and ‘Quia
vnusquisque.’ Parchment, ff. 184, measuring 13⅜ × 9⅛ in., in quires of 8
with catchwords. Well written in double column of 46 lines in three
different hands of early fifteenth cent., of which the first extends to the end
of the second quire (ff. 2-16), the second from thence to the end of the tenth
quire (ff. 17-80), and the third from f. 81 to the end. The columns nearly
correspond with those of the Fairfax MS. up to f. 81, after which point some
attempt is made to save space by writing the Latin verses in the margin.

Latin summaries in the margin, except very occasionally, as on ff. 10 and 11
vo. Floreated half border in fairly good style at the beginning of each book
except the fifth, and one miniature on f. 8, of the Confession, remarkable
for the fact that the figure of the Lover is evidently intended as a portrait of
the author, being that of an old man and with some resemblance in features
to the effigy on Gower’s tomb. The Confessor has a red stole, which with
his right hand he is laying on the penitent’s head, much as in the miniatures
which we have in C and L. The note for the miniaturist still stands in the
margin, ‘Hic fiat confessor sedens et confessus coram se genuflectendo.’
The first leaf of the book is lost, and has been supplied in the sixteenth
cent. from Berthelette’s second edition. It should be noted that this is not the
form of commencement which belongs properly to the MS., being that of
the third recension, taken by Berthelette from Caxton. The first line of f. 2
is Prol. 144.
As to former possessors, we find written on the last leaf ‘Anniballis
Admiralis dominicalis,’ on f. 80 ‘Be me Anne Russell’ (?), and on f. 115
‘Elyzebeth Gardnar my troust ys in god,’ all apparently sixteenth cent. The
first name is evidently that of Claude d’Annebaut (also called d’Hannybal),
who was Admiral of France, and died in 1552. He was in England about the
year 1547. The book came to the Bodleian from Gilbert Dolben, Esq., of
Finedon, in Northamptonshire, in the year 1697, and not being in the
Catalogue of 1697, it has to some extent escaped notice.
The text is a very good one of the revised type. It should be noted, however, that
while in the earlier books AJM &c. stand very frequently together on the side of F as
against the rest of the first recension, in the later, and especially in the seventh and
eighth, AM &c. have an increasing tendency to stand with the first recension
generally, leaving J alone in support of the corrected text. In the earlier books A
sometimes stands alone in this manner, as i. 1960, ii. 961, 1356.
The orthography (especially that of the second hand) is nearly that of F. As regards
final e, the tendency is rather to insert wrongly than to omit. Punctuation agrees
generally with that of F.

J. St. John’s Coll., Camb. B 12. Contains the same as A. Parchment, ff.
214, 12 × 9½ in., in quires of 8 with catchwords: double column of 39 lines,
written in a very neat hand of the first quarter of fifteenth century. Latin
summaries usually omitted, but most of them inserted up to f. 5 (Prol. 606),
and a few here and there in the fifth and seventh books.

The first page has a complete border, but there are no other decorations
except red and blue capitals. Old wooden binding.
The seventh leaf of quire 12 (v. 57-213) and the first of quire 14 (v.
1615-1770) are cut out, and a passage of 184 lines is omitted in the first
book (i. 631-814) without loss of leaf, which shows that the manuscript
from which it was copied, and which here must have lost a leaf, had the
normal number of 46 lines to the column.
Various names, as Thomas Browne, Nicolas Helifax, J. Baynorde, are
written in the book, and also ‘John Nicholas oweth this book,’ with the date
1576. At the beginning we find ‘Tho. C. S.’, which stands for ‘Thomas
Comes Southampton.’ The book was in fact bought with others by Thomas
Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, from William Crashaw, Fellow of St.
John’s College, and presented by him to the College Library in the year
1635.
This MS. gives a text which is nearer to the type of F than that of any other first
recension copy. In the later books especially it seems often to stand alone of its class
in agreement with F, as v. 649, 1112, 1339, 1578, 3340, 4351, 4643, 5242, 6059,
6461, 6771, vi. 162, 442, 784, 973, 2089, vii. 445, 1027, 1666, 2424, 3235, 4336,
5348, viii. 13, 239, 747, 845, 1076, 1415, 1456 ff., 2195, 2220, 2228, 2442, 2670 ff.,
and it is noteworthy that this is the only first recension copy which supplies the
accidental omission of ‘eorum disciplina—materia’ in the author’s Latin account of
the Conf. Amantis at the end. As regards individual correctness it is rather unequal. In
some places it has many mistakes, as vi. 1509 ff., while in others it is very correct.
The spelling is in most points like that of F, and it is usually good as regards
terminations; but the scribe has some peculiarities of his own, which he introduces
more or less freely, as ‘ho’ for ‘who,’ ‘heo’ for ‘sche’ (pretty regularly), ‘heor’ for
‘her,’ ‘whech’ for ‘which.’ It must also be an individual fancy which leads him
regularly to substitute ‘som tyme’ for ‘whilom’ wherever it occurs. Punctuation
usually agrees with that of F.

M. Camb. Univ. Mm. 2.21 (Bern. Cat. ii. 9648). Contains Conf. Amantis
only, without ‘Explicit,’ &c. (the last leaf being lost). Parchment, ff. 183, 14
× 9½ in. Quires of eight with catchwords and signatures: double columns of
46 lines: Latin summaries usually in margin, but occasionally in the text, as
in A. Several hands, as follows, (1) ff. 1-32, 41-64, 73-88, 97-136, 145-152,
161-176; (2) ff. 33-40, 89-96, 137-144; (3) ff. 65-72; (4) ff. 153-160; (5) ff.
177-183. Finally another, different from all the above, adds sometimes a
marginal note which has been dropped, as on ff. 4, 32 vo, 65, 72 vo. The

first hand, in which more than two-thirds of the book is written, is fairly
neat: the third much rougher than the rest, and also more inaccurate.
Floreated half border in fairly good style at the beginning of each book,
except the third, fifth, and seventh, and two rather rudely painted
miniatures, viz. f. 4 vo, Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (the king in bed,
crowned), and f. 8, the Confession, a curious little picture in the margin.
The priest is laying his stole on the head of the penitent, whose features are
evidently meant for a portrait. It is quite different however from that which
we have in A. Below this picture we find the note, ‘Hic fiat Garnimentum.’
The last leaf is lost, containing no doubt the ‘Explicit,’ ‘Quam cinxere,’
and ‘Quia vnusquisque,’ as in A.
The names Stanhope and Yelverton are written on f. 39 (sixteenth cent.),
and ‘Margareta Straunge’ on the first leaf (seventeenth cent.). Later the
book belonged to Bishop Moore of Norwich (No. 462 in his library), and it
passed with the rest of his books to the University of Cambridge in 1715, as
a gift from the king.
M is very closely connected with A, as is shown by very many instances of special
agreement, and some considerations suggest that it may be actually derived from it, as
for example the writing of the Latin verses in the margin after f. 80, which in A seems
to be connected with a change of hand, whereas in M it begins at the same point
without any such reason. On the other hand M has a good many readings which are
clearly independent, either correcting mistakes and omissions in A, as Prol. 195
marg., 937, i. 673 marg., 924, 1336, 3445, ii. 951, iii. 2529, vi. 620, or giving an early
reading where A has a later, e.g. Prol. 869, i. 1118, 1755, ii. 961, 3516, iii. 1939, v.
3914, 5524, &c. In correctness of text and of spelling M is much inferior to A,
especially as regards final e: for example, on f. 53 vo,

Came neuer ȝit to mannes ere Cam A
Tiding | ne to mannes siȝt Tidinge ... sihte A
Merueil whiche so sore aflihte Merueile which A
Amannes herte as it þe dede þo A
To hym whoche in þe same stede him which A

P₁, formerly Phillipps 2298, bought in June, 1899, by Mr. B. Quaritch,
who kindly allowed me to see it. Parchment, leaf measuring about 9 × 6½
in., double column of 39 lines, in a fairly neat running hand, with many

contractions because of the small size of the leaf. Latin summaries omitted.
No decoration. Text agrees with AJM group, so far as I have examined it.

Ch. Chetham’s Libr., Manchester, A. 6. 11 (Bern. Cat. ii. 7151).
Contains Conf. Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (4 lines) and ‘Quam cinxere.’
Parchment, ff. 126, about 15¼ × 10¾ in., quires usually of 12 or 14 leaves.
Rather irregularly written in double column of 47-61 lines, late fifteenth
century. No ornament. Marginal Latin almost entirely omitted, but some
English notes by way of summary occasionally in margin, perhaps by later
hand.
The first leaf is lost, the MS. beginning Prol. 193, and also two leaves in
the second quire (i. 1092-1491) and one in the tenth (viii. 2111-2343); but
besides these imperfections there are many omissions, apparently because
the copyist got tired of his work, e.g. ii. 3155-3184, iii. 41-126, 817-842,
877-930, 1119-1196, iv. 17-72, 261-370, 569-704, 710-722, 915-968, 1117-
1236, v. 72-112. There is also a good deal of omission and confusion in v.
6101-7082. At the end in a scroll is written ‘Notehurste,’ which indicates
probably that the book was copied for one of the Chethams of Nuthurst,
perhaps Thomas Chetham, who died 1504. The word ‘Notehurst’ also
occurs at the end of the Glasgow MS. of the ‘Destruction of Troy,’ which
has in another place the names of John and Thomas Chetham of ‘Notehurst’
as the owners of it.
In text it belongs to the AJM group, and sometimes, as iv. 208, stands alone with
J. There are many corruptions, however, and the spelling is late and bad.

N₂. New College, Oxford, 326. Contains Conf. Amantis only (no
‘Explicit’). Parchment, ff. 207 + 4 blanks, about 13¾ × 9½ in., in quires of
8 with catchwords; neatly written in double column of 40 lines (or 39). No
Latin summaries or verses. The handwriting changes after f. 62 (at iii. 2164)
and becomes rather larger and more ornamental.
Two leaves lost after f. 35, containing ii. 1066-1377, and some of the
leaves of the MS. from which it was copied had been displaced, so that iv.
2501-2684 comes after 2864, then follows 3049-3232, then 2865-3048, and
after these 3233 ff. (two leaves displaced in the original). Lines omitted
sometimes with blanks left, as i. 1044, 2527.

From the coats of arms which it contains the book would seem to have
been written for Thomas Mompesson of Bathampton, sheriff of Wilts in
1478 (K. Meyer, John Gower’s Beziehungen, &c.). It was given to John
Mompesson by Sir Giles Mompesson in 1650, and to New College by
Thomas Mompesson, Fellow, in 1705.
The text is a combination of two types. It has the Lancaster dedication at the
beginning, but the conclusion which belongs to the first recension. On examination it
proves that the scribe who wrote the first eight quires followed a manuscript not of the
F, but of the SΔ class (agreeing for example with S in i. 1881 f., 2017 ff., ii. 2387, iii.
168, 1241, and differing from F in regard to i. 2267 ff., 2343 ff., &c.), while the
copyist of the remainder followed one of the revised first recension. The spelling is
poor.

E₂. Bibl. Egerton 913, Brit. Museum. A fragment, containing Conf.
Amantis from the beginning to i. 1701. Paper, ff. 47, 11½ × 8 in., in quires
of 16 with catchwords: single column, 30-37 lines on page: Latin
summaries in margin. Three hands, (1) f. 1-26, 31-36; (2) 27-30; (3) 37-47.
On f. 26 vo. there is an omission of i. 387-570 (one leaf of 184 lines lost
in the copy). This is supplied by the insertion of four leaves after f. 26,
containing i. 375-580.
The text belongs to the revised group, as shown by Prol. 6, 7, 115, 659, 869, i.
162, 278, 368, 1262, &c.

(b) Intermediate.
H₁. Harleian 3490, Brit. Museum. Contains, ff. 1-6 St Edmund’s
Speculum Religiosorum, ff. 8-215 Confessio Amantis, left unfinished on f.
215 vo. Parchment, 215 leaves, 14½ × 10 in., in quires of 8 with
catchwords: double column of 34-51 lines, small neat hand of middle
fifteenth cent., with some corrections, perhaps in the same hand. Latin
summaries in the text, underlined with red. Blank leaf cut out after f. 6, and
f. 7 left blank, so that Gower begins on the first leaf of the second quire.
The text is left unfinished at viii. 3062*, part of the last page remaining
blank.
Floreated pages at the beginning of the books and also at f. 11, with
various coats of arms painted.

The text given by this MS. is of an intermediate type. Occasionally throughout it
is found in agreement with AJM &c. rather than with ERC &c., as Prol. 6, 7, i. 162,
630, 1755, 1768 ff., 1934, &c., and in a large portion of the fifth book it passes over
definitely in company with XG &c. to the revised class, but it does not contain the
distinctive readings of XG. Sometimes it stands alone of the first recension in
company with F &c., as iv. 2414, vii. 1749, viii. 2098, and especially in regard to the
three passages, i. 2267 ff., 2343 ff., 2369 ff. In individual correctness of text and
spelling the MS. does not rank high, and it is especially bad as regards insertion and
omission of final e, as ‘Wherof him ouht welle to drede,’ ‘Ayenste the poyntes of the
beleue,’ ‘Of whome that he taketh eny hede.’ It has th regularly for þ and y for ȝ.

Y. In the possession of the Marquess of Bute, by whose kindness I have
been allowed to examine it. Contains Confessio Amantis, imperfect at
beginning and end. Parchment, 15½ × 10¾ in., in quires of 8 with
catchwords on scrolls. Very well written in double column of 50 lines, early
fifteenth cent. Latin summaries in text (red). Floreated page finely
illuminated at the beginning of each book, with good painting of large
initials, some with figures of animals, in a style that looks earlier than the
fifteenth cent. Spaces left on f. 2, apparently for two miniatures, before and
after the Latin lines following i. 202.
Begins in the last Latin summary of the Prologue, ‘Arion nuper
citharista,’ followed by Prol. 1053, ‘Bot wolde god,’ &c., having lost six
leaves. Again, after iv. 819 nine leaves are lost, up to iv. 2490, and one leaf
also which contained vi. 2367-vii. 88: the book ends with viii. 2799, two or
three leaves being lost here. The book belonged to the first Marquess of
Bute, who had his library at Luton. At present it is at St. John’s Lodge,
Regent’s Park.
This is a good manuscript, carefully written and finely decorated. There are very
few contractions, and in particular the termination -oun is generally written in full, as
‘confessioun,’ i. 202, ‘resoun,’ iii. 1111, ‘devocioun,’ ‘contemplacioun,’ v. 7125 f. &c.,
and th is written regularly for þ. As regards individual accuracy and spelling it is very
fair, but the scribe adds -e very freely at the end of words. The type of text represented
is evidently intermediate to some extent, but I have not been able to examine it
sufficiently to determine its exact character. It supports the revised group in a certain
number of passages, e.g. i. 264, 630, 3374, 3396, 3416, ii. 31, 1328, 1758, &c.,
sometimes in company with H₁ and sometimes not. In particular we may note the
passage i. 3374 ff., where in some lines it is revised as above mentioned, and in
others, as 3381, 3414, 3443, it keeps the earlier text. Occasionally Y seems to have a
tendency to group itself with B, as i. 208, 604, and in other places we find YE or YEC
forming a group in agreement with B, as i. 161, iii. 633, v. 1946, 3879.

X. Society of Antiquaries, 134. Contains, ff. 1-30 Lydgate’s Life of the
Virgin (imperfect at beginning), f. 1 begins in cap. xiii. ‘Therefore quod
pees,’ ff. 30-249 Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (six lines), ‘Quam
cinxere,’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque,’ ff. 250-283, Hoccleve’s Regement of
Princes, with ‘Explicit Thomas Occlef,’ ff. 283 vo, metrical version of
Boethius [by John Walton of Osney] with leaves lost at the end, ends
‘Amonges hem þat dwellen nyȝe present.’ Parchment, ff. 297, about 15 × 11
in., in quires of 8 without catchwords, in a good and regular hand. The
Conf. Amantis is in double column of 41 lines. Latin summaries in text
(red). Ornamental borders at the beginning of books and space for miniature
of Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream on f. 34 vo. One leaf lost between ff. 134 and
135, containing v. 1159-1318.
The book belonged formerly to the Rev. Charles Lyttelton, LL.D., who
notes that it came originally from the Abbey of Hales Owen.
I owe thanks to the librarian of the Society of Antiquaries for
courteously giving me access to the manuscript.
The text is of the intermediate type, passing over in a part of the fifth book with
H₁ &c. to the revised group, but not giving the revised readings much support on
other occasions. It forms however a distinct sub-group with GOAd₂, these
manuscripts having readings apparently peculiar to themselves in several passages,
e.g. v. 3688 and after v. 6848.
The spelling is not very good, and in particular final e is thrown in very freely
without justification: there are also many -is, -id, -ir terminations, as ‘servantis,’
‘goodis,’ ‘nedis,’ ‘ellis,’ ‘crokid,’ ‘clepid,’ ‘vsid,’ ‘chambir,’ ‘aftir,’ and ȝ usually for gh
(h), as ‘hyȝe,’ ‘nyȝe,’ ‘ouȝt,’ ‘lawȝe,’ ‘sleyȝtis,’ &c. The text however is a fair one, and
the use of it by Halliwell in his Dictionary preserved him from some of the errors of
the printed editions. The scribe was apt to drop lines occasionally and insert them at
the bottom of the column, and some, as iii. 2343, are dropped without being supplied.

G. Glasgow, Hunterian Museum, S. i. 7. Contains Confessio Amantis,
imperfect at the end. Parchment, ff. 181 (numbered 179 by doubling 94 and
106) with two blanks at the beginning, 16½ × 10¾ in., in quires of 8 with
catchwords: well and regularly written in double column of 46 lines, early
fifteenth century. Latin summaries in the text (red). Floreated page at the
beginning of each book, so far as they remain, and illuminated capitals.
Many catchwords lost by cutting of the margin: it must once have been a
very large book.

The manuscript has lost about sixteen leaves at the end, and eight
altogether in various other places. In every case except one, however, the
place of the lost leaf is supplied by a new leaf inserted, one of which has the
missing portion of the text copied out from an early edition, while the rest
are blank. The leaves lost are mostly such as would probably have had
miniatures or illuminations, including the beginning of the first, second,
sixth, seventh, and eighth books. The losses are as follows: f. 4 (containing
Prol. 504-657, probably with a miniature), text supplied by later hand, f. 7
(Prol. 984-i. 30), f. 9 (i. 199-336, probably with a miniature), f. 28 (i. 3402-
ii. 108), f. 129 (131) (v. 7718-vi. 40), f. 143 (145) (vi. 2343-vii. 60), a leaf
after f. 175 (177) (vii. 5399-viii. 126), f. 177 (179) (viii. 271-441), and all
after f. 179 (181), that is from viii. 783 to the end.
A former owner (seventeenth cent.) says, ‘This Book, as I was told by
the Gent: who presented it to me, did originally belong to the Abbey of
Bury in Suffolk.’ If so, the Confessio Amantis was probably read in this
copy by Lydgate.
I am under great obligations to Dr. Young, Librarian of the Hunterian
Museum, for the trouble he has taken to give me access to this excellent
manuscript.
The Glasgow MS. is especially related to X (iv. 2773, v. 1486, 3582, 3688, 4110,
6848 ff., vi. 101, vii. 769, &c.), and belongs more generally to the group H₁X &c.,
which passes over to the revised class almost completely in a considerable part of the
fifth book. The text, however, is on the whole much better than that of X, being both
individually more correct and more frequently found on the side of the corrected
readings, e.g. i. 2836, ii. 1441, 1867, v. 781, 1203, 2996, 4425, 5966, 6839, 7223,
7630, vi. 86, 746 (corrected), 1437, vii. 510, 1361, 1574, 2337, 3902, viii. 568. In at
least one place, vii. 1574, it stands alone of the first recension, while in others, as v.
4425, 5966, 7630, vi. 746, 1437, &c., it is accompanied only by J. On the other hand
in some passages, as v. 5802, 6019, 6257, vii. 1172 marg. &c., G has an earlier
reading and X the later, while there is also a whole series of passages where G,
sometimes in company with X, seems to show a special connexion of some kind with
B (BT), as ii. 1925, iii. 733, iv. 2295, 2508, v. 4, 536, 2508, 3964, 4072, 7048, vi.
1267, 1733, vii. 3748, 4123, &c.
The book is carefully written, and corrected in the same hand, e.g. v. 3145, 5011,
vi. 430, 746, vii. 4233. The spelling is pretty good, and in particular it is a contrast to
X in the matter of final e. This is seldom wrongly inserted, and when it is omitted it is
usually in places where the metre is not affected by it. Punctuation often in the course
of the line, but not at the end.

O. Stowe 950, Brit. Museum. Confessio Amantis, imperfect at
beginning and end. Parchment, ff. 175 (177 by numbering leaves of another
book pasted to binding), 14¼ × 10 in., in eights with catchwords and
signatures, double column of 44-46 lines; written in a small, neat hand.
Latin summaries in text (red). No decorated pages.
Has lost seven leaves of the first quire, to i. 165 (incl.), and also after f.
16 one leaf (i. 2641-2991), after f. 35 one (ii. 2486-2645), after f. 44 two
(iii. 673-998), after f. 97 one (v. 3714-3898), after f. 108 two (v. 5832-
6184), after f. 136 two (vii. 771-1111), and at least four leaves at the end
(after viii. 2549).
Formerly belonged to Lord Ashburnham.
In text this belongs to the XG group, agreeing with them, for example, at v. 3688,
6848, and in general with H₁XG, where they go together (so far as I have examined
the book), e.g. in the Latin verses after v. 2858 (‘Vltra testes falsos,’ ‘penitus’) and in
the readings of v. 1893, 1906, 2694, 3110, &c.
The handwriting is somewhat like that of H₁: the spelling sometimes fairly good,
but unequal; bad especially at the beginning. The metre generally good.

Ad₂. Additional 22139, Brit. Museum. Confessio Amantis, imperfect,
with the author’s account of his books, ‘Quia vnusquisque,’ at the end,
followed by Chaucer’s poems, ‘To you my purse,’ ‘The firste stok,’ ‘Some
time this worlde,’ ‘Fle fro the pres.’ Parchment, ff. 138, 13¾ × 10¼ in., in
quires of 8 with catchwords: regularly and closely written in double column
of 53 lines by two hands, the first (ff. 1-71) somewhat pointed, the second
rounder and smaller. Date 1432 on a shield, f. 1. Latin summaries in text
(red). Illuminated borders at beginning of books (except the eighth) and
many gilt capitals: a miniature cut out on f. 4 (before Prol. 595).
The first leaves are much damaged, f. 1 having only two lines left (f. 2
begins Prol. 177), f. 3 has lost Prol. 455-478 and 505-527, &c., f. 4 has a
miniature cut out, with Prol. 716-726 on the other side, f. 6 has lost Prol.
979-1061. After f. 7 there is a loss of seventeen leaves (i. 199-ii. 56), after f.
31 (originally 48) two quires (sixteen leaves) are lost and f. 32 is damaged
(iii. 1150-iv. 1517), after f. 81 one leaf lost (v. 7807-vi. 154).
Bought by Brit. Museum from Thos. Kerslake of Bristol, 1857.

The text is closely connected with that of X, but not copied from that manuscript
itself (see ii. 1711, vii. 92, viii. 2650). There are corrections here and there in a
somewhat later hand, e.g. ii. 671, 1045, 1457, iii. 1052, iv. 2922, several of which are
cases of lines supplied, which had been dropped. In v. 3688 the ordinary reading has
been substituted doubtless for that of X, and in some cases the alterations are wrong,
as vii. 2639, viii. 51. The manuscript has a good many individual errors and the
spelling is rather poor.

Cath. St. Catharine’s Coll., Camb. Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’
(six lines), ‘Quam cinxere’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque.’ Parchment, ff. 188,
17¾ × 12¼ in., in quires of 8 with catchwords: well written in double
column of 47 lines, afterwards 40, before the middle of fifteenth cent. Latin
summaries in text (red). Floreated whole border at the beginning of each
book: miniature on f. 4 vo of Nebuchadnezzar’s Dream, and f. 8 vo the
Confession (Priest on stool to left of picture, laying hand but not stole on
penitent’s head), fairly well painted.
Leaves are missing which contained i. 3089-3276, ii. 3331-3518, v.
1182-1363, 6225-6388, vi. 107-460, vii. 984-1155, and viii. 2941-3114*,
and the last leaf containing ‘Explicit,’ &c., is placed now at the beginning of
the volume. There is a confusion of the text in the third book, iii. 236-329
being repeated after 678 and 679-766 left out, also a considerable omission
in the fourth (iv. 2033-3148) without loss of leaves in this MS. (The
statement in the MS. that seven leaves are here lost is a mistake.) In the
passage vii. 1486-2678 several leaves have been disarranged in the quire.
Given to the College in 1740 by Wm. Bohun of Beccles (Suffolk), to
whose great-grandfather, Baxter Bohun, it was given in 1652 by his
‘grandmother Lany.’
The text is of a rather irregular type, but often agrees with the XGO group. It has
many mistakes and the spelling is poor.

Q. Belonged to the late Mr. B. Quaritch, who kindly allowed me to
examine it slightly. Parchment, leaves measuring about 14 × 8¾ in., in
double column of 49 lines, well written, early fifteenth cent. Ends with the
account of the author’s books, ‘Quia vnusquisque.’ Floreated pages at the
beginning of books and a good miniature of the Confession on f. 3, of a
rather unusual type—the priest seated to the left of the picture and the
penitent at a little distance. Latin summaries in text (red). Begins with Prol.

342, having lost two leaves here, and has lost also Prol. 529-688, Prol. 842-
i. 85, and perhaps more.
The book formerly belonged to a Marquess of Hastings.
This is a good manuscript, and the spelling is fairly correct. I place it provisionally
here, because its readings seem to show a tendency towards the XG group.

(c) Unrevised.
E. Egerton 1991, Brit. Museum. Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (six
lines), ‘Quam cinxere,’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque,’ after which ‘Deo Gracias.
And þanne ho no more.’ Parchment, ff. 214, 15¼ × 10 in., in quires of 8
with catchwords: regularly written in a very good large hand in double
column of 42 lines, early fifteenth cent. Latin summaries in text (red).
Floreated pages at beginning of books, and a finely painted miniature of the
Confession on f. 7 vo.
Two leaves lost, originally ff. 1 and 3, containing Prol. 1-134 and 454-
594. The book has also suffered from damp, and parts of the first and last
leaves are so discoloured as to be illegible.
A seventeenth cent. note on f. 1 vo tells us that the book was given on
April 5, 1609, ‘at Skarborough Castle’ to the lady Eliz. Dymoke by her aunt
the lady Catherine Burghe, daughter of Lord Clynton, who was afterwards
earl of Lincoln and Lord High Admiral, to whom it came by her mother, the
lady Eliz. Talboys. On f. 2 we find the register of the birth of Master Harry
Clinton, son and heir of Lord Clinton, born at Canbery, June 6, 1542. The
name Willoughby occurs also in the book (sixteenth cent.), and on a flyleaf
inserted at the beginning we find ‘John Brograve, 1682,’ with Latin lines in
the form of an acrostic about his family, signed ‘Thomas Tragiscus,
Bohemus.’ Bought by the Brit. Mus. August 6, 1865, at Lord Charlemont’s
sale.
The text of this fine MS. belongs clearly to the unrevised group. At the same time
its original must have had some corrections, and some also appear on the face of this
MS. It stands alone of the first recension in agreement with S, F in a few passages, as
v. 5438, vi. 1954, vii. 4318 marg., and with J in ii. 2576, iii. 176, v. 4989 f., 7327, vii.
3484. It has also some connexion with B (BTΛ), standing in this matter either with C
(or YC), as iii. 633, v. 3688, 3814, 5667, 6318, or by itself, as Prol. 169, i. 2122, ii.
1353, iv. 3401, v. 3992, 6336, vii. 323, 978, viii. 1761, 2706.

The scribe seems to have had a good ear for metre, and seldom goes wrong in any
point of spelling which affects the verse, though apt to omit final e in case of elision.
Sometimes, however, he drops words, as ‘swerd,’ i. 433, ‘so,’ v. 122, ‘chaste,’ v. 6277.
On the whole the text of E is probably the best of its class.

C. Corpus Christi Coll., Oxf. 67 (Bern. Cat. i. 2. 1534). Confessio
Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (four lines), ‘Quam cinxere,’ and ‘Quia
vnusquisque,’ after which ‘Deo Gracias.’ Parchment, large folio, ff. 209, of
which three blank, in quires of 8 with catchwords: written in double column
in a good hand of first quarter fifteenth cent. Latin summaries in text (red).
Pages with complete borders at beginning of books (except Lib. i), and two
very fair miniatures, f. 4 vo Nebuchadnezzar’s Image, f. 9 vo the Confession
(priest laying stole on youthful penitent’s head). The book has lost four
leaves, the second of the first quire (Prol. 144-301), the last of the 22nd and
first of the 23rd (vii. 3137-3416), and the first of the 26th (viii. 1569-1727).
We find on the last leaf in a hand perhaps as early as the fifteenth cent.
‘Liber partinet Thomam Crispe Ciuem et Mercerium Londiniarum,’ and on
the flyleaf at the beginning a device containing the same name, and also A.
Crispe, F. Crispe, W. Rawson, Anne Rawson. ‘Augusten Crispe me Iure
tenet’ is written on the first leaf of the text, and also ‘Liber Willelmi
Rawson Ao. Dni 1580.’ Finally, ‘Liber C. C. C. Oxon. 1676.’ The device
referred to above appears also in the decoration of the book both at the
beginning and the end, but the manuscript must have been written much
earlier than the time of Thomas Crispe.
This is a good copy of the unrevised group, having some connexion, as we have
seen above, with E, but less good in spelling, especially as regards final e. For special
connexion with B, see i. 2234, iv. 359, &c. CL go specially together apparently in
some places, as Prol. 937 f., i. 94, 161, 165, 433, 916, but not throughout. There are
some corrections by erasure of final e, and a line supplied by a different hand, vi.
1028. No punctuation.

R. Reg. 18. C. xxii, Brit. Museum. Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’
(six lines), ‘Quam cinxere’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque.’ Parchment, ff. 206,
14¼ × 3¾ in., in eights with catchwords: double column of 44 lines, well
written, first quarter fifteenth cent. Latin in text (red). Floreated border of
first page with miniature of the Confession in the initial O; also a miniature

on f. 4 vo of the Image of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (hill with stone to left of
picture), and half borders at beginning of books, except Lib. i.
Two blanks cut away at the end, from one of which is set off ‘This boke
appertayneth vnto the Right Honorable the Ladie Margaret Strange’
(presumably the same whose name appears in M). The binding has ‘Lady
Mary Strainge.’
A very fair MS. of its class and almost absolutely typical, but gives distinctively
revised readings in a few passages, as ii. 925, iv. 1342, v. 3145, viii. 1621. Omits vii.
2889-2916 and some of the Latin summaries. The words ‘pope’ and ‘papacie’ are
regularly erased, see especially f. 47. Spelling and metre fairly good: no punctuation.

L. Laud 609, Bodleian Library (Bern. Cat. 754). Confessio Amantis
with ‘Explicit’ (four lines), ‘Quam cinxere’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque.’
Parchment, ff. 170, 16 × 10¾ in., in quires of 8 with catchwords: double
column, first of 40 lines, then about 44, and after f. 16 of 51: well written,
first quarter fifteenth cent. Latin in the text (red). Floreated border of first
page and half borders at the beginning of books, well executed. Two
miniatures, on f. 5 vo the Image of the dream, and on f. 10 the Confession,
both much like those in C and B₂, but damaged.
After f. 109 one leaf is lost (v. 5550-5739), one after f. 111 (v. 6140-
6325), and eight (quire 16) after f. 118 (v. 7676-vi. 1373).
The names Symon and Thomas Elrington (sixteenth cent.) occur in the
book, ff. 89, 170, and ‘Liber Guilielmi Laud Archiepiscopi Cantuar. et
Cancellarii Vniuersitatis Oxon. 1633’ on f. 1.
In correctness of text and spelling the text is decidedly inferior to the foregoing
MSS. We may note apparently good readings in the following passages, Prol. 159, i.
3023, v. 1072, vii. 374, 3040, 3639, viii. 358, 483.

B₂. Bodley 693, Bodleian Library (Bern. Cat. 2875). Confessio Amantis
with ‘Explicit’ (six lines), ‘Quam cinxere’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque.’
Parchment (gilt edged), ff. 196, 15 × 10 in., in eights with catchwords. Well
written, first quarter fifteenth cent., in double column of 46 lines. Latin in
text (red). Floreated border of first page and half borders at beginning of
books (also on f. 8 vo), well executed: two small miniatures, f. 4 vo the

Image of the dream, f. 8 vo (within an initial T) the Confession, like those in
C and L, but smaller.
At the end we have ‘ffrauncois Halle Ao mvcvi’ (i.e. 1506), ‘Garde le
ffine.’ In the initial on f. 1 a coat of arms is painted surrounded by the
Garter and its motto. The arms are those of Charles Brandon duke of
Suffolk (Brandon with quartering of Bruyn and Rokeley, see Doyle, Official
Baronage, iii. 443), and on the same page is painted the Brandon crest
(lion’s head erased, crowned per pale gules and arg., langued az.). These
must have been painted in later than the date of the MS. The binding is
deeply stamped with the arms of Great Britain and Ireland in colours, and
the letters I. R., showing that the book belonged to James I. It was presented
to the Bodleian by Dr. John King, who was Dean of Ch. Ch. 1605-1611. We
must suppose that James gave it to Dr. King.
The fineness of the vellum and the general style of the book seems to indicate that
it was written for some distinguished person. The text is very typical of its class. In
correctness and spelling it is less good than L, oftener dropping final e and having less
regard for the metre.

Sn. Arch. Seld. B. II, Bodleian Library (Bern. Cat. 3357). Confessio
Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (four lines), ‘Quam cinxere’ and ‘Quia
vnusquisque.’ Paper (with some leaves of parchment), ff. 169, 14½ × 10¾
in. Quires with varying number of leaves, usually 12 or 16, signatures and
catchwords. (No written leaves lost, but blanks cut away in quires nine and
ten.) Written in double column of 44-65 lines (no ruling), in a small hand,
middle fifteenth cent. Latin in text. Red and blue initials, but no other
decoration.
The book has the name ‘Edwarde Smythe’ (sixteenth cent.) as the
owner. It came into the Bodleian among John Selden’s books.
The text is a poor one with a good many corruptions, from the first line of the
Prologue (‘To hem’ for ‘Of hem’) onwards, many of them absurd, as ‘who thoghte’
for ‘we the while’ (v. 6752), ‘homicides’ for ‘houndes’ (vii. 5256), and some arising
from confusion between þ, ȝ, and y. Thus the scribe (who usually has th for þ and y
for ȝ) is capable of writing ‘aþen’ or ‘athen’ for ‘aȝein,’ ‘yer of’ for ‘þer of,’ ‘yeff’ for
‘þef,’ ‘biþete’ for ‘biȝete.’ There are many mistakes in the coloured initials, e.g. ii.
2501, iii. 2033, 2439. Some northern forms, as ‘gude,’ iii. 1073, ‘Qwhat,’ iii. 2439.
Note agreement with B in some places, as i. 365, 1479, iii. 1222, v. 2417, 6296, and a
few more.

D. Camb. Univ. Dd. viii. 19 (Bern. Cat. ii. 9653). Confessio Amantis
(imperfect). Parchment, ff. 127, quires of 8 with catchwords: double column
of 48 (sometimes 50) lines, regularly written in a hand using very thick
strokes. Latin in text (red). Spaces left for miniatures, f. 4 vo, f. 8 vo (the
latter marked ‘hic Imago’), and perhaps also f. 1. Many spaces left for
illuminated capitals.
After f. 83 follows a quire of six with 5 vo blank (after end of Lib. iv.)
and 6 lost: then a quire of eight with 5 and 6 (also part of 4) blank, and 7, 8
lost: then, f. 94, ‘Incipit liber Sextus.’ So that of Lib. v. we have only about
four leaves (v. 1444-2149). The leaves numbered 16, 17, 15 should stand
last (in that order), and the text ends (on f. 15) with vii. 3683, the line
unfinished and the rest of the page blank.
Successive owners in sixteenth cent., Magister Asshe, Thom. Carson (or
Cursson), Ambr. Belson, J. Barton. It was one of Bishop Moore’s books
(No. 467), and came to the University in 1715.
The text shows no leaning, so far as I know, to the revised group. Perhaps
somewhat akin to the MSS. which precede and follow: see Prol. 331 marg., i. 110,
370.

Ar. Arundel 45, College of Arms (Bern. Cat. ii. 5547). Confessio
Amantis (imperfect). Paper, 168 leaves (numbered 167, but one dropped in
numbering after f. 42) + two parchment blank at beginning, 11½ × 8¼ in.
Quires of 8 (usually), with catchwords, double column of 46-51 lines, small
neat writing, middle fifteenth cent. Latin in text (red): no illumination, but
spaces left for initials.
One leaf lost after f. 7 (i. 63-216), two after f. 116 (v. 5229-5594), and
all after viii. 1102 (about twelve leaves gone at the end).
Former possessors, ‘Thomas Goodenston, Gerdeler of London,’ and
(before him probably) ‘Jhon Barthylmewe, Gerdyllarr and Marchant.’

Hd. At Castle Howard, the property of the Earl of Carlisle, who most
kindly sent it for my use. Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (four lines),
‘Quam cinxere’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque.’ Parchment, ff. 111 (numbered as
110) 14 × 11 in., in quires of 8 (usually), marked iiii, v, vi, &c. In double

column of 60-74 lines, rather irregularly written in a small, fairly clear
hand, later fifteenth cent. Latin in text. Some red and blue initials; no other
decoration.
Seventeen leaves lost at the beginning, f. 1 begins at i. 3305, and f. 8 is
the first leaf of quire iiii: after f. 73 four leaves lost, containing vi. 264-
1306, and in the last quire one, containing viii. 2566-2833. The leaves in the
latter half of the book, from f. 66, have been much disarranged in the
binding.
The name ‘Tho. Martin’ is written at the beginning, in the handwriting
of the well-known Thomas Martin of Palgrave. This of course is not the
book mentioned in Bern. Cat. ii. 611 as among the books collected by Lord
William Howard at Naworth Castle. There seems to be at present no Gower
MS. at Naworth.
Some readings seem to show a connexion of Hd with L, as iii. 1885, 2763, ‘Now
herkne and I þe þo,’ iv. 1341, 3086, 3449, 3535, but it is not derived from it. Note also
the readings of ii. 1577 ‘Ne,’ 2825 ‘by,’ iii. 1173 ‘Iupartie,’ v. 3306 ‘Oute.’ There are
many corruptions in the text as well as some deliberate alterations, as ‘cleped’
regularly to ‘called,’ and words are often dropped or inserted to the injury of the
metre.

Ash. Ashmole 35, Bodleian Library (Bern. Cat. 6916). Confessio
Amantis (imperfect). Paper, ff. 182, 13½ × 9½ in. Quires of 12 (usually),
with catchwords, double column of 42-48 lines, fairly well written: no Latin
verses or summaries, but summaries in English written in the text (red),
mostly omitted in the last thirty leaves. Some initials in red, spaces left for
larger capitals.
Begins with Prol. 170, having lost two leaves (one blank) at the
beginning. After f. 2 one leaf is lost (Prol. 541-725), one after f. 4 (i. 1-169),
one after f. 32 (ii. 1749-1927), one after f. 91 (v. 2199-2366), three after f.
181 (viii. 2505-2893), one after f. 182, which ends with viii. 3082*. Half of
f. 182 is torn away, but the beginning of the Chaucer verses remain, as well
as a whole column of the early form of conclusion, in spite of the statement
in the Ashmole Catalogue. Even if the conclusion were really wanting, there
would be no difficulty in assigning the MS. to its proper class.

Second Recension.
(a) S. The Stafford MS., now in the possession of the Earl of
Ellesmere, by whose kind permission I have been allowed to make use of it.
Contains Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (six lines) and ‘Quam cinxere.’
Parchment, ff. 172 (the last three blank), 14 × 9¾ in., quires of 8 with
catchwords and signatures (24 in all, the last of five leaves): written in
double column of 46 lines in a good square hand of late fourteenth century
type. Latin summaries in the margin. The first page has a well-executed
border of geometrical pattern and a rather rudely painted miniature of
Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, in style resembling that of F. This page has also
three heraldic shields and a crest, of which more hereafter. Floreated half
borders at the beginning of books and illuminated capitals throughout, well
executed and with an unusual amount of gold. On f. 56 a well painted
grotesque figure of a man with legs and tail of some animal, wearing a
pointed headpiece and armed with an axe. This is part of the initial
decoration of Lib. iv.
The book has unfortunately lost in all seventeen leaves, as follows: one
after f. 1 (Prol. 147-320), one after f. 7 (Prol. 1055-i. 106), three after f. 46
(iii. 573-1112), one after f. 68 (iv. 2351-2530), two after f. 69 (iv. 2711-
3078), one after f. 70 (iv. 3262-3442), two after f. 71 (iv. 3627-v. 274), one
after f. 107 (v. 6821-7000), one after f. 125 (vi. 2357-vii. 88), two after f.
139 (vii. 2641-3004), two after f. 153 (vii. 5417-viii. 336). In addition to
this, one leaf, f. 50 (iii. 1665-1848), is written in a different and probably
rather later hand, and seems to have been inserted to supply the place of a
leaf lost in quite early times.
The question about the former owners of this fine manuscript is an
interesting one. As to the devices on the first page, the first shield (within
the initial O) is sable and gules per pale, a swan argent, the second (in the
lower margin) sable, three ostrich feathers (argent?) set in three scrolls or,
while in the right margin there is a crest of a lion, collared with label of
three points, standing on a chapeau, and below is suspended a shield
quartered az. and gules, with no device. The crest is evidently meant for that
of John of Gaunt, though it is not quite correct, and the three ostrich
feathers (properly ermine) were used by him as a recognisance (see
Sandford’s Genealogical Hist. p. 249), while the swan is the well-known
badge of Henry his son, to be seen suspended from Gower’s own collar of

SS on his tomb and in the miniature of the Fairfax MS. It seems probable
then that the book was prepared for presentation to a member of the house
of Lancaster, probably either John of Gaunt or Henry. If it be the fact that
the swan badge was not adopted by Henry until 1397, this would not be the
actual copy sent on the occasion of the dedication to him in 1392-93. On the
other hand the absence of all royal emblems indicates that the book was
prepared before Henry’s accession to the throne.
In the sixteenth cent. (Queen Elizabeth’s reign) the book belonged to
one William Downes, whose name is written more than once on f. 170. The
ornamental letters W. D. on f. 21 are probably his initials, and on f. 76 we
have Phillipp Downes in a fifteenth-cent. hand. On f. 171 vo there is a note
about ‘the parsonages of Gwend ... and Stythians in the county of
Cornewell, percell of the possessions of the late monastary of Rewley,’ and
also about the ‘personage of Croppreadin in the county of Oxforde,’ granted
for xxi years by Edward VI and paying lvi pounds a year. ‘T. P. Goodwyn’
is another name (seventeenth cent.). When Todd saw the MS. at the
beginning of this century, it belonged to the Marquess of Stafford.
S has the Lancaster dedication and the rewritten epilogue, and with these the three
additional passages, v. 6395*-6438*, 7086*-7210*, vii. 3207*-3360*, omitting v.
7701-7746, and transposing vi. 665-964. In correctness it is inferior only to F, and
these two stand far above all others as primary authorities. Their independence of one
another is certain, and the general agreement of their text gives it the highest
guarantee of authenticity. The spelling is practically the same, as will be seen in those
passages which are printed from S in this edition, e.g. vii. 3207*-3360*, indeed in
most places the two texts are absolutely the same, letter for letter. As regards f. 50,
which is in a different hand, it should be noted not only that it is far less correct than
the rest, but also that it is copied from a different original, a MS. of the unrevised first
recension, distinctive readings of which are given in iii. 1686, 1763, 1800, 1806,
while no trace of such readings appears in any other part of S.

Δ. Sidney Sussex Coll., Camb. Δ. 4. 1 (Bern. Cat. i. 3. 726). Contains
Confessio Amantis, with ‘Explicit’ (six lines) and ‘Quam cinxere,’ (ff. 2-202
vo), and then an English version of Cato’s Disticha. Paper, ff. 211 (of which
four blank), 11½ × 8½ in., in quires of 12 with catchwords and signatures.
Written in double column of 41-48 lines in a fairly good hand, middle
fifteenth century, with a good many contractions. Latin summaries usually
in text, sometimes in margin. No decoration. The first leaf is lost,
containing Prol. 1-140.

The book was left to the College by Samuel Ward, Master, 1643. One of
the blank leaves has the word ‘temsdytton’ (i.e. Thames Dytton) in an early
hand.
In regard to form of text this MS. agrees throughout with S, and it must no doubt
have had the Lancaster preface. It is remarkable as containing the additional lines
printed by Caxton at the end of the Prologue (which may have been also in S), and it
has eleven Latin hexameters substituted for the prose summaries at Prol. 591 and 617,
beginning,

‘Dormitans statuam sublimem rex babilonis,’

and again four after the Latin prose at vii. 2891, beginning,

‘Sede sedens ista iudex inflexibilis sta.’

The text has many corruptions and the spelling is not very good. Δ does not give
the first recension readings on f. 50 of S, which of itself is sufficient proof that it is
not derived from that manuscript, for the insertion of this leaf must be much earlier
than the date of Δ.

(b) Ad. Additional 12043, British Museum. Confessio Amantis,
imperfect at beginning and end. Parchment, ff. 156 (the last blank), 13 × 9¼
in., in quires of 8 with catchwords: well written in double column of 45-50
lines, beginning of fifteenth century. Latin summaries in the margin up to f.
16 (ii. 382), after which they are omitted. Floreated pages in good style at
the beginning of each book.
More than twenty leaves are lost, viz. ten at the beginning, up to and
including i. 786, one after f. 45 (iv. 1-190), two after f. 47 (iv. 559-932), two
after f. 86 (v. 4605-4983), one after f. 131 (vii. 3071-3269*), one after f.
151 (viii. 1440-1632), and five or more at the end, after viii. 2403. There is
also omitted without loss of leaf iii. 1665-1848, no doubt owing to loss of
leaf in the copy: see below.
‘Elizabeth Vernon’ (fifteenth century?) on blank leaf at the end. The
book belonged in the present century to Bp. Butler of Lichfield.
This MS. heads the group AdBTΛ, being nearer to the fully revised type than any
of the rest, and showing only very occasional traces of the earlier readings (but iii.
254, 941, v. 6418, vii. 3298, viii. 856, 1076, &c.). It agrees with the rest, as against
SΔ, in giving v. 7015*-7034*, vii. 2329*-2340*, and 3149*-3180*, but does not seem
fully to join the group until the latter part of the fifth book. In connexion with this we

may note the curious fact that the omitted passage, iii. 1665-1848, is precisely that
contained in f. 50 of S, which apparently was supplied in place of a lost leaf. In
correctness and spelling the MS. is very fair, but not good in regard to final e.
Punctuation often where there is a pause in the line.

T. Trin. Coll., Camb. R. iii. 2 (Bern. Cat. i. 3. 335). Contains, ff. 1-147,
Confessio Amantis, imperfect at the beginning, with ‘Explicit’ (six lines)
and ‘Quam cinxere,’ ff. 148-152 vo the French Traitié, with the Latin pieces
‘Quis sit vel qualis,’ ‘Est amor in glosa,’ and ‘Lex docet,’ f. 152 ‘Quia
vnusquisque,’ f. 152 vo-154 vo the Latin Carmen super multiplici viciorum
pestilencia, ending with the ten lines ‘Hoc ego bis deno.’ Parchment, ff.
154, 14¾ × 10 in., quires of 8 with catchwords, double column of 46 lines.
Latin summaries in margin, but in some parts omitted. Well written in
several hands, early fifteenth century, of which the first wrote ff. 1-8, 50-57,
74-81, 84 vo-89, 98-113 ro, the second ff. 9-32, the third ff. 33-49, 58-65,
82, 83, 84 ro, 90-97, the fourth ff. 66-73, 113-154. No decoration except
coloured or gilt capitals.
The book has lost five whole quires at the beginning, and begins at
present with ii. 2687. Also the second col. of f. 84 ro is left blank with
omission of v. 7499-7544. A large part of f. 33 is blank, but there is no
omission.
Presented to the College by Thomas Nevile, Master.
A good MS., with form of text in v, vi, vii, like that of AdB, and obviously having
a special connexion in its readings with B. T, however, is of a more fully corrected
type than B, and it must remain doubtful whether the preface of the poem in T was of
the earlier or the later form. In any case the original of the two, if (as it seems) they
had a common original, was not made up earlier than 1397, for the resemblance of the
manuscripts extends to the French and Latin poems which follow the Conf. Amantis,
and the last of these is dated the 20th year of king Richard.
The third and fourth hands are neater and better than the other two. The first is
rather less correct and less good in spelling than the others, and also it omits the Latin
marginal notes. The parts written in this hand are ii. 2687-iii. 608, v. 1415-2874,
5805-7082, v. 7545-vi. 1040, vi. 2201-vii. 2532.
With regard to the connexions within the group AdBTΛ, attention may be drawn
especially to v. 659, where Ad has the usual reading, T omits the line, leaving a blank,
while B and Λ have bad lines made up for the occasion, to v. 4020, where Ad again
has the usual text, TΛ omit, and B has a made-up line, and to v. 7303, where AdBT
omit two lines necessary to the sense which Λ inserts. We may note the alteration by
erasure in T of v. 5936, apparently from the reading of the unrevised text.

B. Bodley 294, Bodleian Library (Bern. Cat. 2449). Contents, as in T,
ff. 1-197 Conf. Amantis, &c., ff. 197-199 vo Traitié, f. 199 vo ‘Quia
vnusquisque,’ ff. 199 vo-201 Carmen super multiplici, &c., ending with the
lines ‘Hoc ego bis deno.’ Parchment, ff. 201, 15½ × 10¾ in., quires of 8
with catchwords. Well written in double column of 42-47 lines, first quarter
of fifteenth cent. Latin summaries in text (red): ‘Confessor,’ ‘Amans,’
usually omitted. Complete border of first page and at the beginning of each
book except i and ii, painted in good style. Two miniatures, f. 4 vo
Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (the king in bed crowned), f. 9 the Confession,
nearly as in E. No leaves lost.
The name ‘Edwarde Fletewoode’ appears on f. 1, and the book was
probably given by him to the University in 1601.
Form of text in v, vi, vii the same as AdT. We have in this MS. a combination of
the early preface with the rewritten conclusion, a form which we might reasonably
expect to find, and which may have been that of T, as it certainly was of the MS. used
by Berthelette. Something has already been said of the text of this MS., and for the
rest sufficient information will be found in the critical apparatus. The spelling of B is
exemplified in the passages printed from it, Prol. 24*-92*, v. 7015*-7036*, vii.
2329*-2340*, 3149*-3180*. As in the case of E, the copyist is careful of metre, and
while omitting final e freely before a vowel, rarely does so where it affects the metre,
and seldom adds -e unduly. There is hardly any punctuation.

Λ. Wollaton Hall, in the possession of Lord Middleton, who kindly
allowed me to examine it. Contents as B. Parchment, ff. 197, 15¼ × 10½
in., in quires of 8 with catchwords and signatures. Well and regularly
written in double column of 46 lines, early fifteenth century. Latin
summaries in text (red) as a rule, sometimes in margin. Spaces left for
miniatures at the beginning, and for initials throughout, not painted. No
leaves lost.
The text of this MS. is in many ways interesting. It has Lancaster dedication, but
in text it often seems to belong to the unrevised first recension; for though many of
the errors of this group are found to be corrected in Λ, even in cases where B retains
them, as Prol. 7, 219, Lat. Verses after 584, 812, 844, 937 f., i. 8, 54, 264, 278, &c., ii.
671, 833, &c., and though there are also many of the revised readings, as i. 368, ii.
1758 ff. (in both of which B is unrevised), iv. 517, 766, 985 f., 2954, 3153, v. 30, 47
f., 82, 2694 f., 3110, &c., yet in many other places the original readings stand in Λ, as
i. 3374 ff., iv. 2407, 2556, v. 274, 316, 394, 1893, 1906 f., &c., where BT are revised.
The characteristic second recension readings are almost regularly given by Λ, which
agrees with AdBT against SΔ in regard to the passages inserted; but there are some
important differences between this MS. and all others of its class, viz. (1) after v.

6430* it has a combination of first and second recensions. (2) v. 7701-7746 is inserted
as in the first and third recensions. (3) viii. 2941-2959 is inserted as in the first
recension (with the curious corruption ‘Cuther’ for ‘Chaucer’), the rewritten epilogue
being carried on from the line ‘Enclosed in a sterred skye.’
It will be observed that BTΛ often form a distinct group, as (to take only a few
examples) iv. 1567, 1996, 2034, 3132, 3138, v. 654 ff., 4138, &c. We may note,
however, v. 7303 f. which are inserted by Λ, though omitted in AdBT, and the reading
‘she’ in iv. 2973.

P₂. Phillipps 8192, at Thirlestaine House, Cheltenham. Same contents as
BTΛ. Parchment, ff. 193, large fol. Well written in double col. of 46 lines,
early fifteenth cent. Latin summaries in margin. Illumination on the first
page and at the beginning of books, except i. and iii. On the first page a
miniature of Nebuchadnezzar’s Image, with a small figure in the border,
and also a figure painted in the initial O. Two leaves missing and supplied
in blank after f. 1 (Prol. 154-509), and one later (vii. 3199-3382). On f. 1 vo
‘Joh: Finch Comitis Winchilsea filius 1700.’
A fine MS. of an early type. It has the Lancaster dedication in the Prologue and
the later form of epilogue, and as regards the additional passages it agrees with
AdBTΛ. In text P₂ is closely related to Λ, but it does not include v. 7701-7746 or viii.
2941-2960, nor does it agree with Λ in v. 6431* ff. As instances of their agreement we
may cite Prol. 14, ‘It dwelleth oft in,’ 115, ‘vneuened,’ 127, ‘ben nought diuided,’ &c.
In the marginal note of Prol. 22 P₂ has ‘sextodecimo,’ but the first three letters are
over an erasure.

Third Recension.
F. Fairfax 3, Bodleian Library (Bern. Cat. 3883). Contains, ff. 2-186,
Confessio Amantis, with ‘Explicit’ and ‘Quam cinxere,’ ff. 186 vo-190 vo
Traitié, &c., ff. 190 vo-194 Carmen de multiplici viciorum pestilencia,
ending with the lines ‘Hoc ego bis deno,’ &c., f. 194 ‘Quia vnusquisque,’ f.
194 vo sixteen Latin lines by ‘a certain philosopher’ in praise of the author,
beginning ‘Eneidos Bucolis que Georgica,’ f. 195 a leaf of a Latin moral
treatise from the old binding. Parchment, ff. 195 (including one blank
flyleaf at the beginning and one of another book at the end), 13½ × 9¼ in.,
in quires of 8 with catchwords; the first quire begins at f. 2, the twenty-
fourth quire has six leaves and the twenty-fifth (last) three. The leaves of
the seventh quire are disarranged and should be read in the following order,
50, 52, 53, 51, 56, 54, 55, 57. The Confessio Amantis is written in double

column of 46 lines, in a very good hand of the end of the fourteenth cent.
Latin summaries in the margin. Half borders, some with animal figures, at
the beginning of each book, and two miniatures, one at the beginning, rather
large, of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, and the other on f. 8 of the Confession,
in which the priest is dressed in green and has a wreath of roses on his head,
while the penitent, whose features are damaged, wears a hood and a collar
of SS with a badge, probably a swan, dependent from it. This was no doubt
intended as a portrait of the author: the collar and badge have somewhat the
appearance of having been added after the original painting was made. The
size of the illuminated capitals indicates precisely the nature of the various
divisions of the work.
On f. 2 is written ‘The Ladie Isabell Fairfax daughter and hare of
Thwats hir bouk,’ on f. 8 ‘This boke belongeth to my lady farfax off
Steton,’ and on f. 1 ‘Sr Thomas fayrfax of Denton Knighte true owner of
this booke, 1588.’ This Lady Isabell Fairfax was the granddaughter and
heiress of John Thwaites of Denton, who died in 1511, and was married to
Sir William Fairfax of Steeton. Sir Thomas Fairfax of Denton, whose name
appears in the book, was her grandson. The book no doubt came from the
Thwaites family, and we are thus able to trace it back as far as John
Thwaites of Denton, who died in old age not much more than a hundred
years after the death of the author. It was bequeathed with other MSS. to the
University of Oxford by Sir Thomas Fairfax the parliamentary general,
grandson of the above Sir Thomas Fairfax of Denton, and was placed in the
Bodleian Library in 1675.
The first leaf of the text, up to Prol. 146, is written in a second hand which has
also written ff. 186-194, including the last lines of the Conf. Amantis from viii. 3147.
A third hand (with very different orthography) has written viii. 2938-3146, being the
last 29 lines of f. 41 vo (over an erasure) and the whole of f. 185, which is a leaf
inserted in the place of one cut away (the last of quire 23). At viii. 2938 there is
visible a note, ‘now haue, etc.,’ for the guidance of the scribe after the erasure had
been made. From the fact that two hands have been employed in the transformation of
the MS. at the beginning and end it seems probable that the changes were made at two
separate times (as we also know by the dates that the rewritten epilogue preceded the
rewritten preface), and that what I have called the third hand was really the second in
order of time, being employed to substitute the later epilogue for the former, while the
other hand, doing its work probably after the accession of Henry IV, replaced the first
leaf by one containing the Lancaster dedication, which had been in existence since
1392-3, but perhaps only in private circulation, and added also the Traitié and the
Latin poems, with the account of the author’s books, ‘Quia vnusquisque,’ in its
revised form. I say after the accession of Henry IV, because the reference in the third

recension account of the books to Richard’s fall, ‘ab alto corruens in foueam quam
fecit finaliter proiectus est,’ seems to require as late a date as this. It should be noted
that this hand is the same as that which has made somewhat similar additions to the
All Souls and Glasgow MSS. of the Vox Clamantis. Other examples of alteration of
first recension readings by erasure in F are Prol. 331 marg., 336, i. 2713 f., iv. 1321 f.,
1361 f., Lat. Verses after vii. 1640, Lat. Verses after vii. 1984.
As this edition prints the text of the Fairfax MS. and its relations have already
been discussed, little more need be said here except as to the manner in which the text
is dealt with in the printing. It should be noted then that i and j, u and v are used in
accordance with modern practice, that no distinction is made between the two forms
of s, that th is used for þ, and y for ȝ in ȝe, ȝit, ȝiue, aȝein, beȝete, &c. (this last rather
against my judgement, for no good MS. has it). It should be observed also that the
Fairfax scribe frequently uses v for u at the end of a word, as ‘nov,’ ‘hov’ (often
‘hou’), ‘þov’ (usually ‘þou’), ‘ȝov’ (also ‘ȝou’), ‘auov,’ ‘windov,’ ‘blev,’ ‘knev,’ &c.,
and sometimes in other positions, either for the sake of distinction from n or merely
for ornament, as ‘comvne,’ ‘retenve,’ ‘rvnne,’ ‘þvrgh,’ ‘havk,’ ‘fovl,’ ‘hovndes,’
‘movþ,’ ‘rovnede,’ ‘slovh,’ ‘trovþe,’ ‘ynovh,’ &c., beside ‘comune,’ ‘runne,’ ‘þurgh,’
‘hauk,’ ‘foul,’ &c. In all these cases v is given in the text as u. The termination ‘-o̅ n̅ ’ is
regularly printed as ‘-oun.’ French words with this ending appear in F with -o̅ u̅ or -o̅ n̅ ,
usually the latter (but ‘resoun’ in full, Prol. 151), and sometimes we have ‘to̅ n̅ ’ for
‘toun,’ as vii. 5313, viii. 2523. So also ‘sto̅ n̅ de: wounde,’ i. 1425 f., ‘gro̅ n̅ de’ for
‘grounde,’ i. 2051, ‘expo̅ n̅ de: founde,’ i. 2867 f., ‘bra̅ n̅ che: staunche,’ i. 2837 f.,
‘cha̅ n̅ ce,’ i. 3203, ‘gra̅ n̅ teþ,’ ii. 1463, ‘suppla̅ n̅ te,’ ii. 2369, ‘skla̅ n̅ dre,’ v. 5536
(‘sclaundre,’ v. 712), ‘coma̅ n̅ de: launde,’ vii. 2159.
The contraction ꝑ as a separate word is in this edition almost regularly given as
‘per.’ It is hardly ever written fully in F, but we have ‘Per aunter,’ v. 3351, ‘Per
chaunce,’ v. 7816, and J regularly gives ‘per chance,’ ‘per cas,’ &c., without
contraction. Other MSS., as A and B, incline rather to ‘par.’ F has ‘perceive,’
‘aperceive,’ but ‘parfit.’
With regard to the use of capitals, this edition in the main follows the MS. Some
letters, however, as k, v, w, y, can hardly be said to have any difference of form, and
others are used rather rarely as capitals, while in the case of some, and especially s,
the capital form is used with excessive freedom. It has seemed desirable therefore to
introduce a greater degree of consistency, while preserving the general usage of the
MS. Proper names are regularly given in this edition with capitals (usually so in the
MS., but not always), and sentences are begun with capital letters after a full stop. On
the other hand the I (or J), which is often used as an initial, has frequently been
suppressed, and occasionally this has been done in the case of other letters. It may be
observed, however, that capital letters are on the whole used very systematically in the
MS., and other good MSS., especially S, agree with F in the main principles. Certain
substantives as ‘Ere,’ ‘Erthe,’ ‘Schip,’ ‘Sone,’ ‘Ston,’ are almost invariably used with
capitals, and names of animals, as ‘Cat,’ ‘Hare,’ ‘Hound,’ ‘Leoun,’ ‘Mous,’ ‘Oxe,’
‘Pie,’ ‘Ro,’ ‘Schep,’ ‘Tigre,’ of some parts of the body, as ‘Arm,’ ‘Hiele,’ ‘Lippes,’
‘Nase,’ ‘Pappes,’ ‘Skulle,’ and many other concrete substantives, are apt to be written
with capitals, sometimes apparently in order to give them more importance. Capitals
are seldom thus used except in the case of substantives and some numerals, as ‘Nyne,’
‘Seconde,’ ‘Sexte,’ ‘Tenthe,’ and in many cases it is pretty evident that a distinction is
intended, e.g. between ‘Sone’ and ‘sone’ (adv.), ‘Se’ (= sea) and ‘se’ (verb), ‘Dore’
and ‘dore’ (verb), see iv. 2825 f., ‘More’ and ‘more,’ ‘Pype’ and ‘pipe’ (verb), iv. 3342

f., ‘Myn’ and ‘myn’ (poss. pron.), ‘Mone’ and ‘mone’ (verb), but see v. 5804, 5808,
‘In’ and ‘in,’ vii. 4921 f., viii. 1169 f., 1285 f. That some importance was attached to
the matter is shown by the cases where careful alterations of small letters into capitals
have been made in the MS., as Prol. 949, i. 1687, v. 1435, 3206, 4019, vii. 2785, &c.
Many corrections were made by the first hand, and some of these are noteworthy,
especially the cases where a final e seems to be deliberately erased for the sake of the
metre or before a vowel, as i. 60 ‘get’ for ‘gete,’ iii. 2346 ‘trew’ for ‘trewe,’ vi. 1359 ‘I
red’ for ‘I rede,’ vii. 1706 ‘ffyf’ for ‘ffyue,’ or where an e has been added afterwards,
as ii. 3399 ‘deþe,’ iii. 449 ‘bowe,’ v. 1269, 3726, 5265, ‘whiche.’
It remains only to speak of the punctuation of the MS., which is evidently carried
out carefully. The frequent stops at the ends of lines are for the most part meaningless,
but those elsewhere are of importance and usually may be taken as a guide to the
sense. They are sometimes certainly wrong (e.g. i. 1102 Togedre· 1284 will· 2965 fro·
ii. 1104 wille· 1397 name· 2354 astat· iii. 2638 be· iv. 497 grace· 1751 besinesse·
1985 hardi· 2502 alle· 3354 Slep· 3635 lif· v. 4 good· 231 herte· 444 wynd· 1342
See· 1630 only· 2318 bord· &c.), but the proportion of error is small, and the
punctuation of F generally must be treated with respect. There is usually a stop
wherever a marked pause comes in the line, and this punctuation occurs on an average
about once in ten lines. The following record of the punctuation of iv. 1301-1600 will
serve as an illustration of its nature and extent: 1303 loue· 1307 ladis· 1316 cloþed·
1369 seide· 1374 seiþ· 1376 loue· 1388 slow· 1409 wepe· 1412 Dame· 1415 loue·
1439 hirself· 1457 is· 1459 peine· 1461 haltres· 1466 told· 1470 paramours· 1471
lawe· 1474 ianglinge· 1489 take· 1490 loue· 1491 herte· 1492 mariage· 1496
children· 1497 mai· 1499 tarie· 1501 let· 1512 god· seide· 1532 oþre· 1534 ferste·
1535 dovhter· 1536 cloþes· 1547 Tohewe· 1560 seiþ· 1561 point· 1566 maidenhod·
1567 had· 1591 come· 1592 deþ·

H₂. Harleian 3869, Brit. Museum. Contains the same as F, with some
religious poems in a different hand on blanks at the beginning and end.
Paper, except outer leaves of each quire, ff. 368 (including four leaves at the
beginning and two at the end with religious poems as above mentioned),
11¼ × 7½ in., in quires of 16 (usually), with signatures, first quire
beginning f. 5 and having 14 leaves. Written in single column of 38-50
lines, rather irregularly. Latin summaries in margin (red). On f. 5 at the
beginning of the Confessio Amantis a large picture of Nebuchadnezzar’s
dream, like that in F, on f. 8 an ill-painted picture of the Confession.
On f. 1 we find written ‘London ye 28 Jany. 1628, George Cogiluy,’ and
on f. 2 ‘Jan. 22. 1721 Oxford’ (i.e. Harley). On the same page is the date,
‘1445 ye 23 of May.’
This MS. appears to be copied directly from F, and gives an excellent text,
reproducing that of the Fairfax MS. with considerable accuracy, and for the most part
copying also its mistakes and peculiarities, as Prol. 80 officie, 249 wich, 419 com,

588 sende, 592 befalle, 668 marg. diminuntur, 723 chiualrie, 1078 waxed, i. 120
wisshide, 160 scheo, 227 beleft, 234 sone sone, 335 whilon, 1626 vnsemylieste, 2511
Embroudred, ii. 352 Ennvie, Lat. after 382 infamen, 710 hiere, 949 þong, 1169 no,
1441 keste, 1539 om. the, and so on. Some obvious mistakes are corrected, however,
as Prol. 370, i. 1257, 2105, 3357, ii. 117.

N. New College, Oxf. 266 (Bern. Cat. i. 2. 1230). Confessio Amantis
with ‘Explicit’ (six lines) and ‘Quam cinxere.’ Parchment, ff. 183
(originally 187), 13¼ × 9 in., quires of 8 (one of 10 and the last 9) with
catchwords. Well written in double column of 46 lines usually, sometimes
more, first quarter fifteenth cent. Latin summaries in margin. Many
floreated pages (half borders) and illuminated capitals, well executed. Also
a large number of miniatures, of which some have been cut out and others
much damaged.
The first two leaves are damaged, and four leaves have been cut out,
viz. the original f. 7 (Prol. 1066-i. 106), f. 35 (ii. 1521-1704), f. 74 (iv.
2229-2397) and f. 113 (v. 5505-5662), also the outer half of f. 171 (viii.
271-318) and several miniatures with text at the back.
The name of John Cutt of Schenley, Hertfordshire, appears in the book
(late fifteenth cent.), and on the first leaf ‘Thomæ Martin Liber,’ perhaps the
Thomas Martin who was Fellow of New College 1538-1553, and died in
1584. The binding of old black leather has stamped upon it the letters W. D.,
with a double-headed eagle crowned.
This book seems to be derived from F, though perhaps not immediately. The
orthography is like that of F, but differs in some points, as ‘shal,’ ‘she,’ &c., for
‘schal,’ ‘sche,’ ‘noht’ for ‘noght,’ besides being very uncertain about final e, often to
the destruction of the metre. As examples of particular correspondence with F we may
note Prol. 370 argumeten, 588 send, 592 befalle, 723 chiualrie, 957 mistormeth, i. 120
wisshide, 227 beleft, 234 sone sone, 1036 be shrewed, 3357 seled, ii. 318 ff. fela,
felaw, felawh (varying as F), after 382 infamen, &c., but sometimes F is corrected in
small matters, as Prol. 201 erthly, 249 which, 280 pacience, i. 110 to fare, &c.
The feature of the book is the series of miniatures, illustrating it throughout. In
this respect it is unique, so far as I know; though other copies similarly illustrated
must once have existed. The following is a complete list of the subjects (leaves cited
by original number): f. 15 (i. 1417) Florent and the old woman, f. 18 (i. 2021) man
blowing trumpet, lord, wife, and five children looking out of a castle, f. 23 (i. 2785)
cut out, f. 34 (i. 3067) cut out and sewn in, much damaged, f. 30 (ii. 587) cut out, f. 44
(ii. 3187) mothers bringing babies to Constantine, f. 56 (iii. 1885) Clytemnestra torn
by horses, two crowned persons conversing in the foreground, f. 59 (iii. 2363) Pirate
brought before Alexander, f. 61 (iv. 1) Dido killing herself, Eneas riding away, f. 68
(iv. 1245) lady with halters and red bridle questioned by Rosiphelee, f. 71 (iv. 1815)

cut out, f. 72 (iv. 2045) fight between Hercules and Achelous, f. 77 (iv. 2927) Alceone
in bed dreaming, body of king in the water, f. 83 (v. 141) Midas at table, f. 93 (v.
2031) Crassus having gold poured down his throat, f. 94 (v. 2273) king opening
coffers, f. 95 (v. 2391) cut out, f. 96 (v. 2643) cut out, f. 98 (v. 2961) almost defaced,
f. 100 (v. 3247) cut out, f. 109 (v. 4937) Bardus pulling Adrian out of the pit, f. 111 (v.
5231) Ariadne left sleeping, ship sailing away, f. 117 (v. 6225) a procession of naked
nymphs to bathe, f. 120 (v. 6807) cut out, f. 133 (vi. 1391) Telegonus supporting his
father’s head, guards lying dead, f. 136 (vi. 1789) cut out, f. 150 (vii. 1783) cut out, f.
158 (vii. 3417) cut out, f. 159 (vii. 3627) Gideon and his men blowing trumpets, &c.,
enemy asleep in a tent, f. 165 (vii. 4593) cut out, f. 171 (viii. 271 ff.) half the page cut
away, with probably three miniatures, for only 52 lines are gone, whereas there was
space for 92.

K. Keswick Hall, near Norwich, in the possession of J. H. Gurney,
Esq., who most kindly sent it to Oxford for my use. Contains the same as F,
but is slightly imperfect at the end. Parchment, ff. 189, 13 × 9¾ in., quires
of 8 with catchwords. Well written in double column of 46 lines
(corresponding column for column with F throughout), apparently in six
different hands, of which the first wrote quires 1, 2, 6, 8-11, 21, the second
3 and perhaps 7, the third 4, 5, 16, 17, the fourth 12-15, 19, the fifth 18, and
the sixth 20, 22-24. Latin summaries in the margin (sometimes omitted).
Three leaves are lost in the seventh quire (iii. 1087-1632), and one at the
end, containing the last thirteen lines of the Latin Carmen de multiplici,
&c., with probably the account of the books and the piece ‘Eneidos,
Bucolis.’ A floreated initial to each book, and space left for miniatures on ff.
1 and 7. Old stamped leather binding.
Former possessors, Thomas Stone ‘of Bromsberrowe in the County of
Glouc.’, Henry Harman, William Mallowes (Q. Elizabeth’s reign?), John
Feynton.
The various hands differ very much from one another in correctness. The first and
the fourth give a text so closely corresponding to that of F, that it is almost impossible
not to believe that it is copied from it. In the case of some of the other hands this exact
correspondence in details of spelling and punctuation disappears, and a much less
correct text is given, but this seems chiefly due to carelessness (the third hand, for
example, is evidently inaccurate and much neglects the metre). At the same time it
must be noted that K has the marginal note at the beginning of the Prologue, which is
wanting in F, ‘Hic in principio,’ &c., and there are some readings which seem to be
derived from another source, as iii. 778, 906, 921, 1732, 1832 (all in the seventh
quire), where there is agreement with AM. On the whole the question of the
dependence of K upon F must be left doubtful.
We can trace to this MS. a good many of the mistakes which appear in H₃ and the
Magdalen MS., and found their way sometimes thus into printed editions, e.g. Prol.

160 bothe, 260 to make manhode, i. 3170 om. his, ii. 78 fader, 101 hem wolde, 103 all
hys cause, 126 he, 135 pore, 138 wich, 162 In (originally The). The cause of the great
increase of error about the beginning of the second book is the appearance on the
scene of the careless third hand, which on f. 40 (for example) in its last ten lines has at
least twenty variations in spelling, &c., from the text of F, while the first hand
resuming has not a single one in its first eighteen lines. Indeed, whole columns may
be found in the parts copied by the first or the fourth hand which do not differ from F
in the smallest particular, either of spelling or punctuation.

H₃. Harleian 7184, Brit. Museum. Confessio Amantis, imperfect.
Parchment, ff. 134, 21½ × 14½ in., in quires of 12 with catchwords:
regularly written in double column of 49 lines, in a large pointed hand of
the middle fifteenth cent. Latin summaries in the text (red). Large capitals
finely illuminated and pages bordered at the beginning of the books (the
first page especially is richly decorated, but has suffered damage), also
illuminated titles, ‘Liber Primus,’ &c., at the head of each page.
The book has lost more than fifty leaves, viz. one leaf after each of the
following, f. 25 (i. 3322-ii. 46), f. 55 (iii. 1908-2103), f. 61 (iv. 400-576), f.
78 (iv. 3701-v. 161), f. 110 (v. 6183-6360), and f. 118 (vi. Latin Verses i. 4-
182), twelve leaves after f. 126 (vi. 1571-vii. 1405), four after f. 131 (vii.
2354-3088), and thirty or more after f. 134, from vii. 3594 to the end of the
book.
On the first page ‘Oxford B. H.’
This is a very large and magnificent volume, written on fine parchment, doubtless
for some distinguished person. The text, however, is late and not very good. It is
almost certain that it is derived ultimately from the Keswick MS. The evidence of this
is as follows: (1) Mistakes made in that MS. are nearly regularly reproduced in H₃.
Some instances have been referred to in the account of K: we may add here that where
K omits the Latin summaries in a part of the seventh book, e.g. vii. 1641-1884, 1917-
2765, H₃ does the same, and where variants apparently from the AM group appear in
K, as iii. 778, 906, 921, 1732, they are found also in H₃. (2) The inequality which is to
be observed in the text of H₃, some parts being much less correct than others,
corresponds in the main with the difference of hands in K. Thus we find that a great
crop of error springs up in H₃ from the point where the third hand of K begins, the
preceding portion of the text being very fairly correct, and so to some extent
elsewhere. For example, in v. 917-1017 (a part written in K by the first hand) there are
about eight metrical faults in a hundred lines, while in vi. 183-283 (written in K by the
third hand), there are at least twenty-five. (3) In a certain part of the third book H₃
suddenly ceases to follow the third recension text, and almost regularly gives the
readings of the ERCLB₂ group. This appears first in iii. 1088 and ceases to be the case
after iii. 1686, thus remarkably corresponding with the gap caused in K by the loss of

three leaves after iii. 1086. It is difficult not to believe that this very marked change
was caused by the following of another MS. in a place where K was defective.
The spelling of H₃ is rather late: there is no use of þ, and y is used for ȝ in ‘ye,’
‘yiue,’ &c.

Magd. Magdalen College, Oxf. 213 (Bern. Cat. i. 2. 2354). Confessio
Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (six lines) and Table of Contents in English (on two
fly-leaves at the beginning and one at the end). Parchment, ff. 180 + 3 (as
above), 18¾ × 13¼ in., in quires of 8 with catchwords: written in double
column of 48 lines in a large hand of the middle fifteenth cent, something
like that of H₃. Table of contents and columns 2, 3, 4 of f. 2 in a different
hand. Latin summaries in text (red). Fine coloured letters with floreated half
borders at the beginning of each book, and some neat drawing in connexion
with the scrolls of the catchwords.
The book has lost one leaf after f. 22 (ii. 409-586) and eight after f. 88
(v. 701-2163). On f. 155 vo the MS. omits vii. 2519-2695 without loss of
leaf or blank.
Presented to the College by Marchadin Hunnis in 1620. A note by the
present Librarian states that he was elected a demy of the College in 1606,
appointed second master of the College Grammar School in 1610, and
dismissed from that office as ‘insufficiens’ in Dec. 1611. The book is
reported missing in Coxe’s catalogue.
This MS. is in many points like H₃ in its text, and must certainly have the same
origin, both being perhaps derived from a MS. dependent on K. It reproduces most of
the corruptions which we find in H₃, adding many others of its own, and it has the
same readings in the third book which we have already noted in H₃.
A point of interest about this MS. is its apparent connexion with Caxton’s edition.
It seems evident that among the MSS. from which Caxton worked (and he had three at
least) was either this very copy or one so like it as to be practically undistinguishable.
Of this we shall say more when we speak of Caxton’s edition.

W. Wadham Coll., Oxf. 13. Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (six
lines) and ‘Quam cinxere,’ then the Traitié, slightly imperfect at the end,
ending ‘un amie soulain,’ xvii. 9. Paper, ff. 450, including two original
blanks at the beginning, 11½ × 8¼ in., in quires of 8 with catchwords:
written in column of 30-48 lines (without ruling) in two hands, of which the
first wrote up to iv. 2132, and the other from thence to the end. Latin

summaries in margin, but sometimes omitted or cut short. Some decoration
of the first page of the text in black and red; capitals, titles, &c. in red.
Three leaves are lost in the Conf. Amantis, containing Prol. 728-794, iv.
2386-2473, and v. 1-78, and several also at the end of the volume. There is
great confusion in the text of the Prologue, which goes as follows: 1-92,
499-860 (with loss as above), 93-144, 861-1044, 145-498, and then 1045 ff.
This is not produced by any disarrangement of leaves in the present MS.,
but a considerable dislocation of quires has taken place in a later part of the
volume, seven quires of the fourth and fifth books having been taken out of
their proper place and bound up between vi. 2132 and 2133.
This book was evidently written for one John Dedwood, since his name
and device, a piece of the trunk of a dead tree, occur as part of the
decorations of the first page. The two blanks at the beginning are written
over with a list of Mayors and Sheriffs for a series of years, and these prove
to be those of the city of Chester from the year 1469-1499 (see Ormerod’s
Hist. of Cheshire, i. 211 f.). The name of John Dedwood occurs among
these as Sheriff in the year 1481 and as Mayor in 1483 (but the record in the
MS. is here damaged). He had also been Mayor in 1468. We may therefore
suppose that the MS. dates from about 1470. The name Troutbecke occurs
several times (with other names) in the book, and later (1765) it belonged to
Rich. Warner of Woodford Row, Essex.
The first hand of this MS. is cramped and ugly, varying a good deal in size, the
second is neat and uniform. The text is late and full of mistakes, and the spelling bad,
even such forms as ‘loves,’ ‘beres,’ ‘gos’ being quite common for ‘loveth,’ &c., and
often -et or -ut as a participle termination, ‘despeyret,’ ‘resignet,’ ‘weddut,’ ‘cleput,’
&c. A certain interest attaches to the MS. however from the fact that it seems to be
clearly independent of F as well as of the KH₃ group. While agreeing with F
completely in form of text, and supporting it also as a rule against the mistakes of
KH₃, it has a considerable number of readings which belong to the first recension
uncorrected type, and in other cases it agrees specially with B. Instances of the former
are to be found in Prol. 159, i. 8, 1839, 2423, 2801, 3027, ii. 961, 1200, 1441, 3306,
3516, iii. 68, 626, 2056, v. 1698, 2500, 3376, vi. 543, 1151, 1631, vii. 1490, Latin
verses after 1640 and 1984, 5104, viii. 510, 2342, 2925, &c. These, with others of a
similar kind, scattered through the whole book, seem to be of the nature of accidental
survivals, a first recension copy (the remote ancestor of W) having been altered by
collation with one resembling F. W agrees with apparent mistakes of F and the rest of
the third recension in some passages, as iii. 446, iv. 2867, 2973, vii. 5135, viii. 1069,
1999, but supports what is apparently the true reading against them in Prol. 1078, i.
1068, ii. 2299, 2537, iii. 1605, v. 2906, &c. In most of these last instances W merely
remains in agreement with the first recension, where F, &c. depart from it, therefore
its testimony may be of an accidental character.

The list of Mayors and Sheriffs of Chester on the first pages has perhaps some
local interest, as it is contemporary and probably made by a responsible person.
Comparing it with that given in Ormerod’s Hist. of Cheshire, we find several
differences, as ‘Ric. Sadler’ for ‘Rich. Smith’ as one of the Sheriffs of 1475, ‘John
Monkesfelde, Rob. Pleche,’ Sheriffs for 1478, ‘Mathewe Hewse’ for ‘Mathew
Johnson,’ 1479, ‘Rychard Kir e’ for ‘Rich. Barker,’ 1492. The same pages have some
notes about current historical events, as (under 1469), ‘The which yere were hedet the
lorde Wellybe and the lorde Well. his son for the grete insurreccion and rysing of the
Comyns of the Counte of Lyncolne. Also the same yere entred our Souereyne and
moste noble Prince Kynge Edward now reynynge,’ &c. Under 1470 is a note of the
battles of Barnet and Tewkesbury, and at 1476 the record of a visit to Chester of ‘our
Souereigne lorde Prince,’ who stayed there from Christmas to Easter.

P₃. Formerly Phillipps 8942, bought in March, 1895, by Messrs. H. S.
Nichols & Co., and afterwards in the possession of Messrs. Maggs,
Booksellers. Confessio Amantis, imperfect, ending viii. 3119, ‘As Tullius
som tyme wrot.’ Parchment, rather roughly written, middle of fifteenth
century. From the Towneley Collection.

Hn. Hatton 51, Bodleian Library (Bern. Cat. 4099). Confessio Amantis,
imperfect. Parchment, ff. 206, 12 × 9 in., in quires first of 6 and then
usually of 8 (lettered); double column of 42-48 lines, untidy writing. Has
lost k 4 (iii. 1314-1475), n 2 (iv. 2118-2268), s 2 (v. 5169-5333), t 2 (v.
6774-6914), and five or six at the end (after viii. 2408). Copied from
Caxton’s edition, including the Table of Contents and the confusion in leaf
numbering.
Besides these, there are several MSS. which contain selections from the
Confessio Amantis, as

Harl. 7333, Brit. Museum, which, besides the Canterbury Tales and
other things, has seven stories from the Conf. Amantis, viz. f. 120 Tereus (v.
5551 ff.), f. 122 Constance (ii. 587 ff.), f. 126 The Three Questions (i. 3067
ff.), f. 127 vo The Travellers and the Angel (ii. 291 ff.), f. 127 vo Virgil’s
Mirror, f. 128 vo The Two Coffers, f. 129 The Beggars and the Pasties, &c.
(v. 2031-2498). Parchment, large folio, column of 66 lines, no Latin. These
stories are in the same hand as the Cant. Tales, which go before, and the

Parlement of Foules, which follows them. The text is that of the first
recension unrevised; a very poor copy.

Camb. Univ. Ee. ii. 15. Paper, ff. 95, end of fifteenth or beginning of
sixteenth cent., much mutilated. Contains ff. 30-32, a fragment of The
Three Questions (i. 3124-3315), and ff. 33-35, a fragment of the Trump of
Death (i. 2083 ff.).

Camb. Univ. Ff. i. 6. Paper, ff. 159, 8½ × 6 in., written in various hands.
Contains, ff. 3-5, part of the tale of Tereus (v. 5920-6052), ff. 5-10, iv. 1114-
1466 including the tale of Rosiphelee, ff. 45-51, The Three Questions (i.
3067-3425), ff. 81-84, iv. 2746-2926, ff. 84 vo-95, viii. 271-846. The text of
iv. 1321 agrees with that of the second recension.

Ball. Coll., Oxf. 354. Paper, ff. 253, 11½ × 4¼ in. Contains a
miscellaneous collection of verse and prose, with memoranda &c., all, or
nearly all, apparently in the hand of the owner of the book, one Richard Hill
of Langley, Herts, who has registered on f. 21 (25) the birth of his seven
children, from the year 1518 to 1526, and has kept a short journal of public
events which ends with the year 1536. Among the extracts are several
stories from the Confessio Amantis, neatly written, about 54-60 lines to the
page, with no Latin. These extend over about 46 leaves of the book and are
as follows (leaves by old numbering): ff. 55-70 vo Tale of Appolinus, viii.
271-2028, ff. 70 vo-81 vo Tales of Constance and of Perseus, ii. 587-1865,
ff. 81 vo-83 vo Adrian and Bardus, v. 4937-5162, ff. 83 vo-84 vo, vi. 485-
595, ff. 84 vo-86 vo Dives and Lazarus &c., vi. 975-1238, ff. 86 vo-89 vo
Constantine, ii. 3187-3507, ff. 89 vo-91 vo Nebuchadnezzar, i. 2785-3066,
ff. 91 vo-94 vo Tales of Diogenes and of Pyramus, iii. 1201-1502 and 1655-
1672, ff. 94 vo-96 Midas (unfinished), v. 141-312, ff. 171 vo-175, The Three
Questions, i. 3067-3402. The text is copied not from Caxton’s edition but
from a MS. of the first recension (b) or (c). It is not very correct, and short
passages or couplets are omitted here and there, as i. 3051-3054, viii. 1763-
1766, 1945 f., &c.

Rawlinson D. 82, Bodleian Library. Contains on ff. 25-33 Conf.
Amantis, viii. 2377-2970. Paper, written in single column of 33 lines, no
Latin. Copied from a MS. resembling B, but not apparently either from B
itself or from Berthelette’s MS.

Phillipps 22914 is reported as a fragment (four leaves) containing
Confessio Amantis, v. 775-1542.

Nine good miniatures cut out of a MS. of the Conf. Amantis are in the
possession of Mr. A. H. Frere, who kindly allowed me to see them. They are
as follows. (1) Tereus, (2) Codrus, (3) Socrates and his wife, (4) Dives and
Lazarus, (5) Roman Triumph, (6) Ulysses and Telegonus, (7) The Three
Questions, (8) Lycurgus taking an oath from the Athenians (?), (9) King on
a quay with bales and gold vessels, apparently landed from a ship near,
perhaps Apollonius landing at Tarsis. Several of the pictures represent more
than one scene of the story, as that of Tereus, in which we have the king at
meat presented with the head of his son, while there are three birds in the
background and the scene of the outrage on Philomene on the left; and
again in (4), where the rich man and his wife are sitting at table and
refusing food to the beggar, while in the background on the right an angel is
receiving the soul of the dying Lazarus.
These miniatures are supposed to have belonged to Sir John Fenn,
editor of the Paston Letters. The MS. from which they were cut seems to
have been of the middle of the fifteenth cent.
Evidence is afforded of one other large and well written MS. of the
Conf. Amantis by a fragment of parchment in the Shrewsbury School
Library, of which a photograph has most kindly been sent to me by Dr.
Calvert of Shrewsbury. It contains about 70 lines of the Prologue, viz. 189-
195 (with the Latin), 224-244, 274-294, 323-343. The leaf to which it
belonged must have measured at least 15½ × 11½ in., and was written in
double column of 50 lines.
Three other MSS. are mentioned in the Catalogue of 1697 (vol. ii. pt. 1),
viz. 611 ‘John Gower’s Old English Poems’ with ‘S. Anselmi Speculum
Religiosorum,’ at Naworth Castle, which I strongly suspect is identical with

Harl. 3490 (H₁), 4035, ‘Goweri Confessio Amantis, Fol. magn.,’ belonging
to Ric. Brideoake, Esq., of Ledwell, Oxon., and 6974, ‘Jo. Gower’s Poems,
fol.,’ belonging to Sir Henry Langley of the County of Salop (i.e. of the
Abbey, Shrewsbury).
The average excellence of the Gower MSS. stands high, and there is a
surprisingly large proportion of well written and finely decorated copies,
which attain to more than a respectable standard of correctness.
Manuscripts such as L or B₂, which stand in the third rank among copies of
the Confessio Amantis, would take a very different place among the
authorities for any of Chaucer’s works, second only to the Ellesmere MS. if
they were copies of the Canterbury Tales, and easily in the first place if it
were a question of the Legend of Good Women or the Hous of Fame. It is
evident not only that Gower was careful about the text of his writings, but
also that there was some organized system of reproduction, which was
wanting in the case of Chaucer.

Version. It remains to say something of the Spanish prose version of the
Confessio Amantis, which exists in manuscript in the Library of the Escorial
(g. ii. 19). Information about this was first given me by Mr. J. Fitzmaurice-
Kelly, and since then by the learned Librarian of the Escorial, Fr. Guillermo
Antolin, O.S.A., who most obligingly sent me an account of it. The
Catalogue (1858) thus describes the book: ‘Confision del amante, libro así
intitulado compuesto por Juan Goer natural del Reyno de Englaterra, e
tornado en lengua Portuguesa por Roberto Payn ó Payna canónigo de la
ciudad de Lisboa, e despues fué puesto en lenguaje castellano por Juan de
Cuenca natural de Huete. Cod. escrito en papel el año de 1400, fol. menor.
pasta.’ The statement about the author and the translators is taken from the
beginning of the translation itself. It seems to be rather implied that the
Castilian version made by Juan de Cuenca was based upon the Portuguese
of Robert Payn, no doubt an Englishman. The present Librarian adds that it
is a book of 411 leaves, and of the end of the fourteenth or beginning of the
fifteenth cent.
The translation was made from a copy of the first recension. So far as I
can judge by the extracts with which the Librarian has furnished me, it is a
tolerably close version. For example, Prol. 22 ff. ‘e por que pocos escriven

en lenguaje yngles yo entiendo de componer en el un lybro a onrra del Rey
rricardo cuyo sugebto yo so en todo obedescimiento de mi coraçon, como
dicho sugebto puede y deue a su dicho señor,... asy fue que un tiempo
acaescio como avía de ser que yo yendo en un batel a rremos por el rrio de
atenas que va a la cibdad de noua troya ... y yo estonces falle por ventura a
este mi señor e luego como me vido mando que fuese a una barca en que el
venia, y entre otras cosas que me dixo,’ &c. And again viii. 2941 ff. (the
Chaucer greeting), ‘Saluda de mi parte a caucer mi disciplo e mi poeta,
quando con el topares, el qual por mi en la su mancibia fiso toda su
diligencia para componer y escreuir desyres e cantares de diversas maneras
de los quales toda la tierra es llena, por la qual cosa en especial le soy
mucho tenido mas que a ninguno de los otros. Por ende dile que le enbio
desir que tal esta en su postrimera hedad por dar fyn a todas sus obras se
travaje de faser su testamento de amor, asi como tu has fecho agora en tu
confision.’

Editions. The Confessio Amantis has been already six times printed, viz.
by Caxton, by Berthelette (twice), in Chalmers’ English Poets, by Pauli, and
by Prof. Henry Morley. All the later editions are dependent, directly or
indirectly, on Berthelette.

Caxton printed the Conf. Amantis in 1483. His text is a composite one,
taken from at least three MSS. At first he follows a copy of the third
recension, either the Magdalen MS. itself or one remarkably like it, and he
continues this for more than half the book, up to about v. 4500. Then for a
time he seems to follow a second recension copy, either alone or in
combination with the other, but from about v. 6400 to the end he prints from
a manuscript of the unrevised first recension, inserting however the
additional passages in the seventh book and the conclusion (after the
Chaucer greeting) from one of his other MSS. The account of the books
‘Quia vnusquisque’ at the end is from a first recension MS. The principle,
no doubt, was to include as much as possible, but two of the additional
passages, v. 7015*-7036* and 7086*-7210*, were omitted, probably by
oversight, while a first recension copy was being followed. The later form
of epilogue was perhaps printed rather than the other because it is longer.
Caxton prints the lines at the end of the Prologue, which are given only by

Δ, and there are some other indications that he had a MS. of this type; but
he had also one of the AdBT group, which alone contain vii. 2329*-2340*
and 3149*-3180*.
On f. cxvi vo Caxton still agrees with Magd. almost regularly, e.g. v. 4450 And
myn hap 4454 is not trouble 4465 But for that 4467 ne shall yeue and lene 4484 doo
4503 A good word, whereas on f. cxvii he differs repeatedly, e.g. 4528, 4532, 4543,
4555, 4560, 4572, and seems never to be in full agreement after this. That he is
following a first recension copy after about v. 6400 is clear from the unbroken series
of readings belonging to this class which he exhibits. The text generally is very poor
and the metre extremely bad.

Berthelette in 1532 printed the Conf. Amantis from a MS. very closely
resembling B. He did not venture, however, to substitute the preface which
he found in his copy for that to which Caxton had given currency, but
merely expressed surprise that the printed copies should deviate so much
from the MSS., and printed separately that which his manuscript gave. He
also takes from Caxton the lines at the end of the Prologue, the additional
third recension passages, Prol. 495-498, 579-584, i. 1403-1406, 2267-2274,
2343-2358, 2369-2372AK, and also the Chaucer greeting, viii. 2941-2960*,
but he has overlooked v. 7701-7746. He inserts of course all the additional
passages in v. and vii, as he found them in his MS., loudly protesting
against Caxton for omitting ‘lynes and columnes, ye and sometyme holle
padges.’
Berthelette’s text is better than Caxton’s, but his manuscript must have
been decidedly inferior in correctness to B.
The second edition, 1554, is a reprint of the first, column for column, in
different type. A few mistakes are corrected, and the spelling is somewhat
changed, especially by substitution in many cases of i for y.

Chalmers published the Conf. Amantis in vol. ii. of the collection of
British Poets, 1810, taking the text from Berthelette’s edition of 1554.

Pauli professed to follow Berthelette’s first edition with collation
throughout of MSS. Harl. 7184 and 3869, and occasional reference to Harl.
3490 and the Stafford MS. It is almost impossible that this full collation can

really have been made, for by it nearly all Berthelette’s errors might have
been corrected, whereas we find them as a matter of fact on every page of
Pauli’s edition. As to the critical judgement of the editor, it is enough to say
that he regarded Harl. 7184 as a better authority for the text and spelling
than either Harl. 3869 or the Stafford MS. (being attracted apparently by the
external magnificence of the volume), and that he actually pronounced it to
be of the fourteenth cent. His diligence may be measured by the fact that
because Harl. 3490 stops short at viii. 3062* (in the middle of a sentence),
being left unfinished by the scribe, therefore Pauli’s edition omits the
remainder of this conclusion, 3063*-3114*AL, though he had the MS. in the
Royal Library (R) within his reach, by means of which he might have
completed his copy. He is also seriously inaccurate in the statements which
he makes about the Stafford MS. as regards the additional passages.
A certain number of the errors in Berthelette’s edition are corrected, but
very many remain, and in some cases further corruption has been
introduced by the editor, either from Harl. 7184 or otherwise. The
orthography has been ‘restored,’ but hardly with success.

Morley (1889) followed Pauli’s text, with conjectural alterations of his
own, and a few corrections from Berthelette, as i. 773. Often the changes
are quite wrong, e.g. Prol. 82, 608, i. 777, 1675 f., 2957 f., the most
extraordinary perhaps being iv. 2408 f. The editor professes to omit iii. 142-
338 and a few lines here and there in other places. The omissions, however,
are much more extensive than this seems to imply. In the fourth book alone
they are as follows, 401-408, 428-436, 443-506, 516-523, 1467-1475, 1490-
1594, 2131-2182, 2754-2770, 2858-2862, 2883-2888, 3181-3302, and in
some cases it is impossible even to conjecture on what principle they are
made.

The Present Edition. The text follows the Bodleian Fairfax MS. and
every deviation from this is noted. The critical apparatus is constructed
upon the following principles.
Three manuscripts have been collated throughout with the text of F, viz.
Bodley 902 (A), Corpus Christi Coll. 67 (C), and Bodley 294 (B). These are
selected to represent respectively the first recension revised, the first

recension unrevised, and the second recension texts. A is an excellent copy,
the best of its class, C is a carefully written MS., the best of the group to
which it belongs, with the exception of Egerton 1991, and B, besides being
a good copy and almost the only second recension MS. which is not
imperfect, has perhaps a special claim to attention because its text is of the
type which all the editions except that of Caxton have followed. In all cases
where variation has been found, except where it is merely of form and
spelling or of a very trifling and accidental kind, the readings of at least
fourteen other selected copies have been ascertained, and by this procedure
those variations which are merely individual have been distinguished from
those which are shared by a class or a group. The result is given in the
critical notes, all the variations of A and B being there cited except those
that are very triflingAM, while the readings of C are usually given only
when shared by some other manuscript.
It is important that it should be observed which the manuscripts are
which have thus been referred to and how their evidence is cited. They are
divided always according to their recension, first, second or third, and they
are cited in an unvarying order, as follows: AJMH₁X(G)ERCLB₂, SAdBTΔ,
FWH₃ (or K), so that A ... B₂ means the whole series of the first class, and S
... Δ that of the second, while H₁ ... B₂ stands for H₁X(G)ERCLB₂, and E ...
B₂ for ERCLB₂. These nineteen (or eighteen) manuscripts are present as
witnesses throughout, whether named or not; for when the manuscripts are
named which give a variation, it is to be assumed that the remainder have
the reading of the text. Thus the note
‘1295 wisdom] wordes H₁ ... B₂, H₃’
must be taken to imply that ‘wisdom’ is the reading of AJM, SAdBTΔ, FW
and ‘wordes’ of H₁XGERCLB₂, H₃:
‘1296 gostly B’
means that the reading of the text, ‘goodly,’ is given by every one of the
nineteen except B:
‘1318 How þer(e) H₁G ... B₂’
means that the reading of the text is that of AJMX, SAdBTΔ, FWH₃ and
that of the note belongs to H₁GERCLB₂:

‘1330 for to] þat þou SAdBTΔ’
indicates a reading of the second recension only:
‘3340 tho] þe AM ... B₂’
stands for the fact that all the first recension copies except J vary from F,
while the rest agree. Occasionally readings of other MSS. are cited besides
those mentioned above, as Y, Λ or Magd., but the absence of such citation
must not be taken to imply anything.
It must be observed, however, that in some cases a more limited
reference seemed desirable, especially on matters of form and spelling,
points about which it would be idle to adduce any evidence but that of a few
copies. Where selection of this kind is employed, the manuscripts on both
sides are cited: thus such notes as
‘3691 set AJ, S, F sette C, B,’
‘4307 all S, F alle AJ, B’
must not be taken to imply the reading of any copy except those mentioned.
In a few cases this form is used to avoid misunderstanding in passages
where the record of readings is for some reason incomplete, as i. 2300, viii.
566, 1713, 1927.
In citing a variation as given by a class or group of MSS. no attempt is
made to give the spelling of each one separately. The form cited is that
given either by the majority or by a leading MS. with variations sometimes
added in parentheses.
Attention should be paid also to the following points: (1) It was not found possible
to complete the collation of the Glasgow MS. (G) before the text was printed, and
consequently its readings must not be taken as implied, when not mentioned, any
further than v. 1970. The collation has since been completed and some of the results
are noted in the account of the MS. (2) K takes the place of H₃ in vi. 1671-vii. 1405,
and vii. 3594 to the end, where H₃ is defective. (3) Before assuming the evidence of
any MS. ex silentio it is necessary that the reader should assure himself that it is not
defective in the part concerned. The means of doing this are fully afforded by the
accounts given of the separate MSS., where their imperfections are noted, and it must
be remembered that J and Ad are for the most part defective as regards the Latin
summaries, and that this is the case with T also in certain parts. The readings of S on
f. 50 are for the most part passed over, as not originally belonging to that MS. (4) A
few abbreviated Latin terms are used in the critical notes, as in ras. to indicate that the
text is written over an erasure, or p. m. to denote the reading of the first hand.

The lines are numbered in each book (for the first time), and the
numbers with an asterisk attached are those of the lines in other recensions
than that of the text. In addition to this it should be observed that as nearly
all references to Gower for the last forty years have been made by Pauli’s
edition, it has been thought advisable to place in the margin of this text
indications of the volumes and pages of that edition: thus P. 1. 153 stands
for ‘Pauli, vol. i. p. 153.’
Setting aside matters of spelling, punctuation and grammatical form, we
may note that the material differences of reading between the text of this
edition and that of Pauli are in number about two thousand.

Other English Works. With regard to the text of the poem In Praise of
Peace all that need be said will be found in the notes upon it. The Trentham
MS., which contains it, has already been fully described in the volume of
‘French Works.’
A poem in five seven-line stanzas, beginning ‘Passe forthe þou pilgryme
and bridel wele þy beste,’ occurs in (Shirley’s) MS. Ashmole 59, f. 17 vo
(Bodl. Libr.), with the title ‘Balade moral of gode counseyle made by
Gower.’ The same without the final stanza (owing to loss of a leaf) occurs
in MS. Rawlinson C. 86, but with no title or ascription of authorship, and
both texts have been printed (not quite correctly) by Dr. Karl Meyer in his
John Gower’s Beziehungen, &c., 1889. In addition to these copies there is
one in the British Museum MS. Addit. 29729, which has been published by
Dr. Max Förster in the Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen, vol.
102, p. 50. In this MS. the piece is ascribed to Benedict Burgh, and it is
called ‘A leson to kepe well the tonge.’
It is almost impossible that these verses can have been written by
Gower, but out of deference to Shirley’s authority (which is not very
weighty however), and in order that the reader may judge, it is printed here,
all deviations from the Ashmole text being noted, except in the case of ‘th’
for ‘þ,’ and some readings of the Rawlinson copy (R) being added in
parentheses.

Balade moral of gode counseyle made by Gower.

Passe forth, thou pilgryme, and bridel wel thy beeste;1
Loke not agein for thing that may betyde;2
Thenke what thou wilt, but speke ay with the leeste;
Avyse thee wel who stondeth thee besyde;3
Let not thyne herte beo with thy tonge bewryde;
Trust not to muche in fayre visayginge,
For peynted cheere shapeth efft to stynge.4
Byholde thy selff, or that thou other deme;
Ne beo not glad whane other done amyss;5
10 Sey never al that which wolde the sothe seme,6
Thou maist not wite what thy fortune is:7
For there is no wight on lyve iwyss8
That stondeth sure, ther fore I rede beware,9
And looke aboute for stumbling in the snare.

Reporte not muche on other mennes sawe;10
Be ay adrad to here a wicked fame;11
For man shal dye by dome of goddes lawe,
That here enpeyreth any mannes name.12
Avyse thee wel ther fore or thow attame13
20 Suche as thou mayst never revoke ageyn;14
A good name leste is leste for ay certain.15

Pley not with pecus ne ffawvel to thy feere;16
Chese thou hem never, yif thou do affter me;
The hande is hurt that bourdeth with the bere;17
Fawvel fareth even right as doth a bee;18
Hony mowthed, ful of swetnesse is she,19
But loke behinde and ware thee from hir stonge,20
Thow shalt have hurt yf thou play with hir longe.21

Dispreyse no wight but if effte thou may him preyse,
30 Ne preyse no firre but thou may discomende:
Weyghe thy wordes and hem by mesure peyse;

Thenke that the gilty may by grace amende,
And eke the gode may happen to offende:
Remember eke that what man doth amiss,22
Thou hast or art or may be suche as he is.23

This is full of lines that Gower would not have written, with superfluous
syllables in the metre, as ll. 1, 5, 10, 17, 29, 33, 35 (omitting those that
might pass with amended spelling), accent on weak syllables, as ll. 20, 25,
26, 31, defective rhyme, as ‘besyde’: ‘bewryde’ (participle), and ‘feere’
(companion): ‘bere,’ or suppression of syllable at the beginning, as in l. 12.
The form ‘mayst’ (maist) for ‘miht’ is not found in any respectable Gower
MS. Moreover the style is not that of Gower, but evidently imitated from
Chaucer’s poem ‘Fle from the pres.’

LINENOTES:
1 1 forþe wele
2 2 ageine
3 4 weele stondeþe
4 7 shapeþe (efft] her R)
5 9 gladde (glad R) amysse
6 10 þee
7 11 wit (witte R)
8 12 ewysse
9 13 stondeþe
10 15 mens (mennys R)
11 16 adradde
12 18 enpeyreþe mans (mannes R)
13 19 wele þowe
14 20 ageyne
15 21 gode (good R) certaine
16 22 (Playe not pecus R)
17 24 hurte bourdeþe (a brere R)
18 25 fareþe doþe
19 26 right ful (full R)
20 27 frome
21 28 þowe shalt kache hareme to pley wt þeos beestis longe (Thow
shalt haue hurt yf þou play with her longe R)
22 34 Remembre doþe amisse
23 35 haste arte

CORRIGENDA ET ADDENDA
p. 2, note on 24-92, for Λ, read ΛP₂, and for Of these H₃ Magd. have read
Of these Magd. has
p. 13, note on 331, for RSnDAr read RSnDAr, Δ
p. 14, l. 349, for new read newe
p. 19, note on 543, read scholde A, B, K schold S, F
p. 23, note on 668, for hol] hole AC read hol B, F hole AC note on 683, for
A read AM
p. 25, l. 747, for for read forto
p. 29, l. 871, for form read forme
p. 33, l. 1024, for wist read wiste
p. 57, l. 782, for There read Ther
p. 60, l. 914, for She read Sche so also p. 244, l. 679
p. 64, l. 1052, for righte read rihte
p. 70, l. 1275, for Commandeth read Comandeth
p. 72, note on 1338, for SΔ read SAdΔ, H₃
p. 88, l. 1946, for wenyinge read wenynge
p. 96, l. 2248, for well read wel
p. 100, l. 2365, for myght read myht so also p. 117, l. 2990
p. 107, l. 2630, for discoevered read descoevered
p. 109, l. 2710, for all read al so also p. 156, l. 966, p. 238, l. 447, p. 346, l.
1668
p. 112, l. 2822, for bare read bar
p. 113, l. 2838, for But read Bot

p. 133, below l. 96, a small space should be left
p. 138, l. 274, for greveth read grieveth
p. 150, l. 750, for her read hire
p. 170, l. 1498, for Till read Til
p. 182, note on 1916, for RCLB₂, H₃ read RCLB₂, Δ, H₃
p. 200, note on 2592, for AdB read SAdBΔ
p. 234, note on 313, for H₁ ... B₂ read H₁ ... B₂, Δ
p. 252, note on 983, add pater Δ
p. 257, note on 1164, for XRCLB₂ read H₁XRCLB₂
p. 260, note on 1258, for AdT read AdTΔ
p. 262, note on 1336 (margin), add om. Δ
p. 265, note on 1448, for X ... B₂, WH₃ read X ... B₂, Δ, WH₃
p. 266, note on 1473, for AdBT read SAdBTΔ
p. 269, note on 1605, for SBΛ read BΛ and for AdTΔ read SAdTΔ
p. 280, note on 2023, for Phoreus T read Phoreus TΔ
p. 282, l. 2077, for hounde read hound
p. 284, note on 2166, for W read Δ, W
p. 289, l. 2357, for pouere read povere
p. 292, note on 2444, for H₁ ... B₂ read H₁ ... B₂, SΔ
p. 307, l. 225, for distruid read destruid
p. 314, l. 498, for accordant read acordant
p. 334, l. 1224 (margin), add Confessor
p. 346, l. 1653, for accompte read acompte
p. 351, note on 1872, for AC read AC, S
p. 387, l. 3188, for By read Be
p. 396, l. 3507, for thinge read thing

p. 421, l. 716, for harme read harm
p. 464, note on 745 ff., add The authority here followed is the Trésor of
Brunetto Latini, pp. 84-88 (ed. 1863).
p. 468, note on 463 ff., add The authority for this is perhaps the Trésor, p.
191.
p. 473, l. 11, for 7101), Spertachus for Cyrus (vii. 3418), &c. read 7101).
p. 489, note on 2459 ff., for I am unable [to say where Gower found this
version of the story. The name Geta is quite unknown in the classical]
form of it. read The name Geta was taken by Gower from the Geta of
Vitalis Blesensis, a dramatic piece in Latin elegiacs founded on Plautus,
in which Geta takes the place of Sosia: see Wright’s Early Mysteries,
&c., pp. 79-90.
p. 509, note on 2606, for on the ferst, read on the ferste,

AN ADDITIONAL MS. OF THE ‘CONFESSIO
AMANTIS’
On June 12, 1902, a very valuable manuscript of the Confessio Amantis,
which had not hitherto been described, was offered for sale by Messrs.
Sotheby. By the kind assistance of Dr. Furnivall, who was allowed by the
auctioneers to examine the book before the sale, I am able to give the
following description of it.
Fountaine MS. Contains Confessio Amantis with ‘Explicit’ (six lines),
‘Quam cinxere,’ and ‘Quia vnusquisque,’ after which ‘Deo gracias.’ Then at
the end an alphabetical index to the contents of the poem. Parchment, ff.
213 (originally), 17½ × 12¼ in., neatly written in double column of 46 lines
to the column, Latin summaries in the text, red: middle of the fifteenth
century. Illustrated throughout with well-painted miniatures, of which there
were originally 108, including pictures of the signs of the Zodiac and of the
positions of the principal stars. Of these miniatures nine are missing from
the book, but these have now been identified with the series of nine
miniatures in the possession of Mr. A. H. Frere, which are described on p.
clxvi of my Introduction. At the end of the text (f. 203) is written ‘Andw.
Fountaine, 1791. Æ. 20.’
This is a very large folio, giving a fair text of the first recension. The interest of it
depends upon the miniatures. In describing the illustrated New College MS. 266 I
remarked that other similar copies must once have existed. In saying this I was
referring to the Frere miniatures, and it is a matter of some interest to me to have been
able to identify these with the nine which are missing from the Fountaine MS. The
subjects of the Frere miniatures correspond duly with the places from which pictures
have been cut out, and the words which in some cases have been cut away with the
pictures fit in with those that remain in the MS. For example, on f. 26 a miniature has
been cut out before i. 3067 (the tale of the Three Questions), the text of the Latin
summary above the missing picture being cut off after the words ‘tocius perdicionis.’
The Frere miniature which relates to this tale continues the sentence, supplying the
words ‘causam sua culpa ministrat’; and so also with some of the others. In some
respects we can now correct our account of the Frere miniatures. The subjects of
seven are correctly given in the description, but the last two represent, as we can now
see, (8) Alexander and the Pirate, iii. 2363 ff., (9) Lycurgus departing with his goods
from Athens, vii. 2917 ff. The book was bought by Mr. Quaritch for £1550, certainly
the highest price ever paid for a Gower manuscript.

G. C. M.

CONFESSIO AMANTIS[24a]

i. Torpor, ebes sensus, scola parua labor P. i. 1
minimusque
Causant quo minimus ipse minora canam:
Qua tamen Engisti lingua canit Insula Bruti
Anglica Carmente metra iuuante loquar.
Ossibus ergo carens que conterit ossa loquelis
Absit, et interpres stet procul oro malus.

Incipit Prologus
Of hem that writen ous tofore
The bokes duelle, and we therfore
Ben tawht of that was write tho:
Forthi good is that we also
In oure tyme among ous hiere24
Do wryte of newe som matiere,25
Essampled of these olde wyse26
So that it myhte in such a wyse,27

Whan we ben dede and elleswhere, [Design of the
Book.]
10 Beleve to the worldes eere
In tyme comende after this.
Bot for men sein, and soth it is,
That who that al of wisdom writ
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit
To him that schal it aldai rede,28
P. i. 2
For thilke cause, if that ye rede,
I wolde go the middel weie
And wryte a bok betwen the tweie,
Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore,
20 That of the lasse or of the more

Som man mai lyke of that I wryte:
And for that fewe men endite
In oure englissh, I thenke make29 Hic in principio
declarat qualiter in
*A bok for Engelondes sake,30 anno Regis Ricardi
The yer sextenthe of kyng Richard. secundi sexto
decimo Iohannes
What schal befalle hierafterward Gower presentem
God wot, for now upon this tyde libellum composuit
Men se the world on every syde31 et finaliter
compleuit, quem
In sondry wyse so diversed,32 strenuissimo
That it welnyh stant al reversed, domino suo domino
Henrico de
As forto speke of tyme ago. Lancastria tunc
The cause whi it changeth so Derbeie Comiti
It needeth nought to specifie,33 cum omni
reuerencia
The thing so open is at ÿe specialiter
That every man it mai beholde: destinauit.
30 And natheles be daies olde,
Whan that the bokes weren levere, P. i. 3

Wrytinge was beloved evere34
P. i. 4
Of hem that weren vertuous;
40 For hier in erthe amonges ous,
If noman write hou that it stode,35
The pris of hem that weren goode
Scholde, as who seith, a gret partie
Be lost: so for to magnifie
The worthi princes that tho were,
The bokes schewen hiere and there,36
Wherof the world ensampled is;37
And tho that deden thanne amis
Thurgh tirannie and crualte,38
P. i. 5
50 Right as thei stoden in degre,
So was the wrytinge of here werk.39
Thus I, which am a burel clerk,40
Purpose forto wryte a bok
After the world that whilom tok
Long tyme in olde daies passed:
Bot for men sein it is now lassed,

In worse plit than it was tho,
I thenke forto touche also
The world which neweth every dai,
60 So as I can, so as I mai.
Thogh I seknesse have upon honde
And longe have had, yit woll I fonde
To wryte and do my bisinesse,41
That in som part, so as I gesse,
The wyse man mai ben avised.
For this prologe is so assised
That it to wisdom al belongeth:
What wysman that it underfongeth,42
He schal drawe into remembrance
70 The fortune of this worldes chance,
The which noman in his persone43
Mai knowe, bot the god al one.44
Whan the prologe is so despended,
This bok schal afterward ben ended
Of love, which doth many a wonder45
And many a wys man hath put under.46
And in this wyse I thenke trete
Towardes hem that now be grete,
Betwen the vertu and the vice
P. i. 6
80 Which longeth unto this office.47
Bot for my wittes ben to smale [Dedication.]
To tellen every man his tale,
This bok, upon amendment
To stonde at his commandement,
With whom myn herte is of accord,
I sende unto myn oghne lord,
Which of Lancastre is Henri named:
The hyhe god him hath proclamed
Ful of knyhthode and alle grace.
90 So woll I now this werk embrace
With hol trust and with hol believe;
God grante I mot it wel achieve.

*48A bok for king Richardes sake,49
To whom belongeth my ligeance50
With al myn hertes obeissance
In al that evere a liege man51
Unto his king may doon or can:
So ferforth I me recomande52
30* To him which al me may comande,
Preyende unto the hihe regne53
Which causeth every king to regne,
That his corone longe stonde.
I thenke and have it understonde, Hic declarat in
primis qualiter ob
As it bifel upon a tyde, reuerenciam
As thing which scholde tho betyde,—54 serenissimi
Under the toun of newe Troye, principis domini sui
Regis Anglie
Which tok of Brut his ferste joye,56 Ricardi secundi55
In Temse whan it was flowende57 totus suus humilis
Iohannes Gower,
40* As I be bote cam rowende,58 licet graui
So as fortune hir tyme sette, infirmitate a diu
My liege lord par chaunce I mette; multipliciter
fatigatus, huius
And so befel,60 as I cam nyh,61 opusculi labores
Out of my bot, whan he me syh, suscipere non
recusauit, set59
He bad me come in to his barge. tanquam fauum ex
And whan I was with him at large, variis floribus
Amonges othre thinges seid63 recollectum,
presentem libellum
He hath this charge upon me leid,64 ex variis cronicis,
And bad me doo my besynesse65 historiis,62
poetarum
50* That to his hihe worthinesse philosophorumque
Som newe thing I scholde boke,66 dictis, quatenus sibi
infirmitas permisit,
That he himself it mihte loke67 studiosissime
After the forme of my writynge.68 compilauit.
And thus upon his comandynge
Myn herte is wel the more glad69
To write so as he me bad;

And eek my fere is wel the lasse
That non envye schal compasse
Withoute a resonable wite70
60* To feyne and blame that I write.
A gentil herte his tunge stilleth,
That it malice non distilleth,71
But preyseth that is to be preised;
But he that hath his word unpeysed
And handleth <onwrong> every thing,72
I preye un to the hevene king73
Fro suche tunges he me schilde.
And natheles this world is wilde
Of such jangling, and what befalle,74
70* My kinges heste schal nought falle,
That I, in hope to deserve
His thonk, ne schal his wil observe;
And elles were I nought excused,
For that thing may nought be refused
Which that a king himselve bit.75
Forthi the symplesce of my wit76
I thenke if that it myhte avayle77
In his service to travaile:78
Though I seknesse have upon honde,
80* And longe have had, yit wol I fonde,79
So as I made my beheste,80
To make a bok after his heste,81
And write in such a maner wise,
Which may be wisdom to the wise
And pley to hem that lust to pleye.
But in proverbe I have herd seye
That who that wel his werk begynneth82
The rather a good ende he wynneth;
And thus the prologe of my bok83
90* After the world that whilom tok,
And eek somdel after the newe,

I wol begynne84 for to newe.85

ii. Tempus preteritum presens fortuna [The former Time
better than this.]
beatum
Linquit, et antiquas vertit in orbe vias.86
Progenuit veterem concors dileccio pacem,
Dum facies hominis nuncia mentis erat:
Legibus vnicolor tunc temporis aura refulsit,
Iusticie plane tuncque fuere vie.87
Nuncque latens odium vultum depingit amoris,
Paceque sub ficta tempus ad arma tegit;88
Instar et ex variis mutabile Cameliontis
(10) Lex gerit, et regnis sunt noua iura nouis:
Climata que fuerant solidissima [Temporal
Rulers.]
sicque per orbem
Soluuntur, nec eo centra quietis habent.

If I schal drawe in to my mynde
The tyme passed, thanne I fynde De statu regnorum,
vt dicunt, secundum
The world stod thanne in al his welthe: temporalia,
Tho was the lif of man in helthe, videlicet tempore
Tho was plente, tho was richesse, regis Ricardi
secundi anno regni
Tho was the fortune of prouesse,
sui sexto decimo.89
Tho was knyhthode in pris be name,
100 Wherof the wyde worldes fame
Write in Cronique is yit withholde;
Justice of lawe tho was holde, P. i. 7
The privilege of regalie
Was sauf, and al the baronie
Worschiped was in his astat;
The citees knewen no debat,
The poeple stod in obeissance
Under the reule of governance,
And pes, which ryhtwisnesse keste,90
110 With charite tho stod in reste:

Of mannes herte the corage
Was schewed thanne in the visage;
The word was lich to the conceite91
Withoute semblant of deceite:
Tho was ther unenvied love,92
Tho was the vertu sett above
And vice was put under fote.
Now stant the crop under the rote,
The world is changed overal,
120 And therof most in special
That love is falle into discord.
And that I take to record
Of every lond for his partie
The comun vois, which mai noght lie;93
Noght upon on, bot upon alle
It is that men now clepe and calle,
And sein the regnes ben divided,94
In stede of love is hate guided,
The werre wol no pes purchace,
130 And lawe hath take hire double face,
So that justice out of the weie
With ryhtwisnesse is gon aweie: P. i. 8
And thus to loke on every halve,
Men sen the sor withoute salve,
Which al the world hath overtake.
Ther is no regne of alle outtake,
For every climat hath his diel
After the tornynge of the whiel,
Which blinde fortune overthroweth;
140 Wherof the certain noman knoweth:
The hevene wot what is to done,
Bot we that duelle under the mone
Stonde in this world upon a weer,95
And namely bot the pouer96
Of hem that ben the worldes guides
With good consail on alle sides

Be kept upriht in such a wyse,97
That hate breke noght thassise
Of love, which is al the chief98
150 To kepe a regne out of meschief.
For alle resoun wolde this,
That unto him which the heved is Apostolus. Regem
honorificate.
The membres buxom scholden bowe,
And he scholde ek her trowthe allowe,
With al his herte and make hem chiere,99
For good consail is good to hiere. Salomon. Omnia
fac cum consilio.
Althogh a man be wys himselve,100
Yit is the wisdom more of tuelve;
And if thei stoden bothe in on,101
160 To hope it were thanne anon
That god his grace wolde sende
To make of thilke werre an ende, P. i. 9
Which every day now groweth newe:
And that is gretly forto rewe
In special for Cristes sake,
Which wolde his oghne lif forsake
Among the men to yeve pes.
But now men tellen natheles
That love is fro the world departed,102
170 So stant the pes unevene parted
With hem that liven now adaies.
Bot forto loke at alle assaies,
To him that wolde resoun seche
After the comun worldes speche
It is to wondre of thilke werre,
In which non wot who hath the werre;
For every lond himself deceyveth
And of desese his part receyveth,
And yet ne take men no kepe.
180 Bot thilke lord which al may kepe,
To whom no consail may ben hid,
Upon the world which is betid,

Amende that wherof men pleigne
With trewe hertes and with pleine,
And reconcile love ayeyn,
As he which is king sovereign
Of al the worldes governaunce,
And of his hyhe porveaunce
Afferme pes betwen the londes
190 And take her cause into hise hondes,
So that the world may stonde appesed
And his godhede also be plesed. P. i. 10

iii. Quas coluit Moises vetus aut nouus [The Church.]
ipse Iohannes,
Hesternas leges vix colit ista dies.
Sic prius ecclesia bina virtute polita
Nunc magis inculta pallet vtraque via.
Pacificam Petri vaginam mucro resumens
Horruit ad Cristi verba cruoris iter;
Nunc tamen assiduo gladium de sanguine tinctum
Vibrat auaricia, lege tepente sacra.103
Sic lupus est pastor, pater hostis, mors miserator,
(10) Predoque largitor, pax et in orbe timor.104

To thenke upon the daies olde,
The lif of clerkes to beholde, De statu cleri, vt
dicunt, secundum
Men sein how that thei weren tho spiritualia, videlicet
Ensample and reule of alle tho tempore Roberti
Whiche of wisdom the vertu soughten. Gibbonensis, qui
nomen Clementis
Unto the god ferst thei besoughten sibi sortitus est,
As to the substaunce of her Scole, tunc antipape.105
200 That thei ne scholden noght befole
Her wit upon none erthly werkes,106
Which were ayein thestat of clerkes,
And that thei myhten fle the vice
Which Simon hath in his office,
Wherof he takth the gold in honde.107
For thilke tyme I understonde

The Lumbard made non eschange
The bisschopriches forto change,
Ne yet a lettre for to sende
210 For dignite ne for Provende,108
Or cured or withoute cure.
The cherche keye in aventure
Of armes and of brygantaille
Stod nothing thanne upon bataille; P. i. 11

To fyhte or for to make cheste109
It thoghte hem thanne noght honeste;
Bot of simplesce and pacience
Thei maden thanne no defence:
The Court of worldly regalie110
220 To hem was thanne no baillie;
The vein honour was noght desired,
Which hath the proude herte fyred;
Humilite was tho withholde,
And Pride was a vice holde.
Of holy cherche the largesse
Yaf thanne and dede gret almesse
To povere men that hadden nede:
Thei were ek chaste in word and dede,
Wherof the poeple ensample tok;
230 Her lust was al upon the bok,
Or forto preche or forto preie,
To wisse men the ryhte weie
Of suche as stode of trowthe unliered.
Lo, thus was Petres barge stiered111
Of hem that thilke tyme were,
And thus cam ferst to mannes Ere
The feith of Crist and alle goode
Thurgh hem that thanne weren goode
And sobre and chaste and large and wyse.
240 Bot now men sein is otherwise,
Simon the cause hath undertake,
The worldes swerd on honde is take;
And that is wonder natheles,

Whan Crist him self hath bode pes
And set it in his testament, P. i. 12
How now that holy cherche is went,
Of that here lawe positif
Hath set to make werre and strif
For worldes good, which may noght laste.112
250 God wot the cause to the laste
Of every right and wrong also;
But whil the lawe is reuled so
That clerkes to the werre entende,
I not how that thei scholde amende
The woful world in othre thinges,
To make pes betwen the kynges
After the lawe of charite,
Which is the propre duete
Belongende unto the presthode.
260 Bot as it thenkth to the manhode,113
The hevene is ferr, the world is nyh,
And veine gloire is ek so slyh,
Which coveitise hath now withholde,
That thei non other thing beholde,
Bot only that thei myhten winne.
And thus the werres thei beginne,
Wherof the holi cherche is taxed,114
That in the point as it is axed
The disme goth to the bataille,
270 As thogh Crist myhte noght availe
To don hem riht be other weie.
In to the swerd the cherche keie
Is torned, and the holy bede
Into cursinge, and every stede P. i. 13
Which scholde stonde upon the feith
And to this cause an Ere leyth,
Astoned is of the querele.
That scholde be the worldes hele
Is now, men sein, the pestilence
280 Which hath exiled pacience115

Fro the clergie in special:
And that is schewed overal,
In eny thing whan thei ben grieved.
Bot if Gregoire be believed,
As it is in the bokes write,
He doth ous somdel forto wite
The cause of thilke prelacie,
Wher god is noght of compaignie:
For every werk as it is founded
290 Schal stonde or elles be confounded;
Who that only for Cristes sake
Desireth cure forto take,
And noght for pride of thilke astat,
To bere a name of a prelat,
He schal be resoun do profit
In holy cherche upon the plit
That he hath set his conscience;
Bot in the worldes reverence Gregorius. Terrenis
lucris inhiant,
Ther ben of suche manie glade, honore prelacie
300 Whan thei to thilke astat ben made, gaudent, et non vt
Noght for the merite of the charge, prosint, set vt
presint,
Bot for thei wolde hemself descharge episcopatum
Of poverte and become grete; desiderant.
And thus for Pompe and for beyete
The Scribe and ek the Pharisee P. i. 14
Of Moïses upon the See
In the chaiere on hyh ben set;
Wherof the feith is ofte let,
Which is betaken hem to kepe.
310 In Cristes cause alday thei slepe,
Bot of the world is noght foryete;
For wel is him that now may gete
Office in Court to ben honoured.
The stronge coffre hath al devoured
Under the keye of avarice
The tresor of the benefice,
Wherof the povere schulden clothe116

And ete and drinke and house bothe;
The charite goth al unknowe,
320 For thei no grein of Pite sowe:
And slouthe kepeth the libraire117
Which longeth to the Saintuaire;
To studie upon the worldes lore
Sufficeth now withoute more;
Delicacie his swete toth
Hath fostred so that it fordoth
Of abstinence al that ther is.
And forto loken over this,
If Ethna brenne in the clergie,
330 Al openly to mannes ÿe
At Avynoun thexperience118
Therof hath yove an evidence,
Of that men sen hem so divided.
And yit the cause is noght decided; P. i. 15
Bot it is seid and evere schal,
Betwen tuo Stoles lyth the fal,119
Whan that men wenen best to sitte:
In holy cherche of such a slitte120
Is for to rewe un to ous alle;
340 God grante it mote wel befalle
Towardes him which hath the trowthe.121
Bot ofte is sen that mochel slowthe,
Whan men ben drunken of the cuppe,
Doth mochel harm, whan fyr is uppe,
Bot if somwho the flamme stanche;
And so to speke upon this branche,
Which proud Envie hath mad to springe,122
Of Scisme, causeth forto bringe
This newe Secte of Lollardie,
350 And also many an heresie
Among the clerkes in hemselve.
It were betre dike and delve
And stonde upon the ryhte feith,

Than knowe al that the bible seith123
And erre as somme clerkes do.
Upon the hond to were a Schoo
And sette upon the fot a Glove
Acordeth noght to the behove
Of resonable mannes us:
360 If men behielden the vertus
That Crist in Erthe taghte here,
Thei scholden noght in such manere,
Among hem that ben holden wise,
The Papacie so desguise P. i. 16
Upon diverse eleccioun,
Which stant after thaffeccioun
Of sondry londes al aboute:
Bot whan god wole, it schal were oute,
For trowthe mot stonde ate laste.
370 Bot yet thei argumenten faste124
Upon the Pope and his astat,
Wherof thei falle in gret debat;
This clerk seith yee, that other nay,125
And thus thei dryve forth the day,
And ech of hem himself amendeth
Of worldes good, bot non entendeth
To that which comun profit were.
Thei sein that god is myhti there,
And schal ordeine what he wile,
380 Ther make thei non other skile
Where is the peril of the feith,
Bot every clerk his herte leith
To kepe his world in special,
And of the cause general,
Which unto holy cherche longeth,
Is non of hem that underfongeth
To schapen eny resistence:
And thus the riht hath no defence,
Bot ther I love, ther I holde.
390 Lo, thus tobroke is Cristes folde,

Wherof the flock withoute guide
Devoured is on every side,
In lacke of hem that ben unware
Schepherdes, whiche her wit beware P. i. 17
Upon the world in other halve.
The scharpe pricke in stede of salve126
Thei usen now, wherof the hele
Thei hurte of that thei scholden hele;
And what Schep that is full of wulle
400 Upon his back, thei toose and pulle,
Whil ther is eny thing to pile:
And thogh ther be non other skile
Bot only for thei wolden wynne,
Thei leve noght, whan thei begynne,
Upon her acte to procede,
Which is no good schepherdes dede.
And upon this also men sein,
That fro the leese which is plein
Into the breres thei forcacche127
410 Her Orf, for that thei wolden lacche128
With such duresce, and so bereve
That schal upon the thornes leve
Of wulle, which the brere hath tore;
Wherof the Schep ben al totore
Of that the hierdes make hem lese.
Lo, how thei feignen chalk for chese,
For though thei speke and teche wel,
Thei don hemself therof no del:
For if the wolf come in the weie,129
420 Her gostly Staf is thanne aweie,
Wherof thei scholde her flock defende;130
Bot if the povere Schep offende
In eny thing, thogh it be lyte,
They ben al redy forto smyte; P. i. 18
And thus, how evere that thei tale,
The strokes falle upon the smale,

And upon othre that ben grete
Hem lacketh herte forto bete.
So that under the clerkes lawe
430 Men sen the Merel al mysdrawe,
I wol noght seie in general,
For ther ben somme in special
In whom that alle vertu duelleth,
And tho ben, as thapostel telleth, Qui vocatur a deo
tanquam Aaron.
That god of his eleccioun
Hath cleped to perfeccioun
In the manere as Aaron was:
Thei ben nothing in thilke cas
Of Simon, which the foldes gate
440 Hath lete, and goth in othergate,
Bot thei gon in the rihte weie.
Ther ben also somme, as men seie,
That folwen Simon ate hieles,
Whos carte goth upon the whieles
Of coveitise and worldes Pride,
And holy cherche goth beside,
Which scheweth outward a visage
Of that is noght in the corage.
For if men loke in holy cherche,
450 Betwen the word and that thei werche131
Ther is a full gret difference:
Thei prechen ous in audience
That noman schal his soule empeire,132
P. i. 19
For al is bot a chirie feire
This worldes good, so as thei telle;
Also thei sein ther is an helle,
Which unto mannes sinne is due,133
And bidden ous therfore eschue
That wikkid is, and do the goode.
460 Who that here wordes understode,
It thenkth thei wolden do the same;
Bot yet betwen ernest and game
Ful ofte it torneth other wise.

With holy tales thei devise
How meritoire is thilke dede
Of charite, to clothe and fede
The povere folk and forto parte
The worldes good, bot thei departe
Ne thenken noght fro that thei have.
470 Also thei sein, good is to save
With penance and with abstinence
Of chastite the continence;
Bot pleinly forto speke of that,
I not how thilke body fat,
Which thei with deynte metes kepe
And leyn it softe forto slepe,
Whan it hath elles al his wille,
With chastite schal stonde stille:
And natheles I can noght seie,
480 In aunter if that I misseye.
Touchende of this, how evere it stonde,
I here and wol noght understonde,
For therof have I noght to done:
Bot he that made ferst the Mone, P. i. 20
The hyhe god, of his goodnesse,
If ther be cause, he it redresce.134
Bot what as eny man accuse,135
This mai reson of trowthe excuse;
The vice of hem that ben ungoode
490 Is no reproef unto the goode:
For every man hise oghne werkes
Schal bere, and thus as of the clerkes
The goode men ben to comende,
And alle these othre god amende:
For thei ben to the worldes ÿe136
The Mirour of ensamplerie,
To reulen and to taken hiede
Betwen the men and the godhiede.

iv. Vulgaris populus regali lege subactus [The Commons.]

Dum iacet, vt mitis agna subibit onus.
Si caput extollat et lex sua frena relaxet,
Vt sibi velle iubet, Tigridis instar habet.
Ignis, aqua dominans duo sunt pietate carentes,
Ira tamen plebis est violenta magis.

Now forto speke of the comune,
500 It is to drede of that fortune
Which hath befalle in sondri londes: De statu plebis, vt
dicunt, secundum
Bot often for defalte of bondes accidencium
Al sodeinliche, er it be wist, mutabilia.137
A Tonne, whanne his lye arist,
Tobrekth and renneth al aboute,
Which elles scholde noght gon oute;
And ek fulofte a litel Skar
Upon a Banke, er men be war,
Let in the Strem, which with gret peine,
510 If evere man it schal restreigne. 138 P. i. 21

Wher lawe lacketh, errour groweth,
He is noght wys who that ne troweth,
For it hath proeved ofte er this;
And thus the comun clamour is
In every lond wher poeple dwelleth,
And eche in his compleignte telleth
How that the world is al miswent,
And ther upon his jugement139
Yifth every man in sondry wise.
520 Bot what man wolde himself avise,
His conscience and noght misuse,
He may wel ate ferste excuse
His god, which evere stant in on:
In him ther is defalte non,
So moste it stonde upon ousselve [Man the Cause of
Evil.]
Nought only upon ten ne twelve,
Bot plenerliche upon ous alle,
For man is cause of that schal falle.
And natheles yet som men wryte