And bade him as he hath behight:1
And by the bridle she him seizeth,
But God wot how that she him pleaseth!
Of suche wordes as she speaketh,
Him thinketh wel-nigh his heart breaketh
For sorrow that he may not flee,
But if he would untrue be.
He would algate his trouthe hold,
And every knight thereto is told,
What hap soever him befall.
Though she be the foulest of all,
Yet, to honour of woman-hed,
Him thought he shoulde taken heed:
So that, for pure gentiless,
As he her couthe best address,
In ragges as she was to-tore,
He set her on his horse to-fore,
And forth he taketh his way soft.
No wonder though he sigheth oft!
But, as an owl flyeth by night
Out of all other birdes sight,
Right so this knight on dayes broad
In close him held, and shope his road
On nighte's time, till the tide
That he come there he would abide :
And privily, without noise,
He bringeth this foule great coise
To his castell in such a wise
That no man might her shape avise
Till she into the chamber came
Where he his privy council name*
Of suche men as he moste trust;
And told them that he needes must
This beste wedde to his wife,
For elles had he lost his life.
The privy women were a-sent,
That shoulden ben of his assent:
Her ragges they anon off draw,
And, as it was that time law,
She hadde bath, she hadde rest,
And was arrayed to the best.
But with no craft of combes brode
They might her hore lockes shode,'
And she ne woulde nought be shore2
For no counsel and they therefore,
With such attire as tho was used,
Ordainen that it was excused,
And hid so craftily about
That no man mighte seen them out.
But when she was fully array'd,
And her attire was all assayed,
Tho was she fouler unto see!
But yet it may none other be:
They were wedded in the night.
So woe-begone was never knight
As he was then of marriage!
And she began to play and rage,
As who saith I am well enough.
(But he thereof nothing ne lough')
For she took thenne cheer on hand
And clepeth him her houseband,
And saith, "My Lord, go we to bed!
For I to that intent thee wed,
That thou shalt be my worldes bliss ;"
And proffer'th him with that to kiss,
As she a lusty lady were.
His body mighte well be there;
But as of thought, and of memoire,
His hearte was in purgatoire.
And when they were a-bedde naked,
Withoute sleep he was awaked;
He turneth on that other side,
For that he would his eyen hide
Fro looking of that foule wight.
The chamber was all full of light;
The curtains were of sendall' thin:
This newe bride which lay within,
Though it be nought with his accord,
In armes she beclipt her lord,
And pray'd as he was turned fro,
He would him turn again-ward tho.
For "now," she saith, "we be both one;"
But he lay still as any stone;
And ever in one she spake and pray'd,
And bade him think on that he said
When that he took her by the hond.
He heard and understood the bond,
How he was set to his penance:
And, as it were a man in trance,
He turneth him all suddenly,
And saw a lady lie him by
Of eighteene wintere age,
Which was the fairest of visage
That ever in all the world he sigh ;'
And as he would have take her nigh,
She put her hand and by his leve
Besought him that he woulde leave,
And say'th, that for to win or lese1
He mote one of two thinges chese,'
Wher he will have her such o'night,
Or elles upon dayes light,
For he shall not have bothe two.
And he began to sorrow tho,
In many a wise, and cast his thought,
But for all that, yet could he nought
Devise himself which was the best:
And she that woulde his hearte rest,
Pray'th that he shuld chuse algate :
Till at the laste, long and late
He said, "O ye, my life's hele,*
Say what ye list in my querele,"
I wil, that ye be my mistress,
For I can nought myselve guess
Which is the best unto my choice.
Thus grant I you mine whole voice;
Chuse for us bothen, I you pray!
And, what as ever that ye say,
Right as ye wille, so will I."
"My lord," she saide, "grand-merci!"
For of this word that ye nou sayn
That ye have made me sovereign,
My destiny is over passed;
The kinges daughter of Sicile
I am; and fell but sith a while,
As I was with my father late,
That my step-mother, for an hate
Which toward me she had begun,
For-shope' till I hadde won
The love and the soveraintee
Of what knight that in his degree
All other passeth of good name:
And, as men sayn, ye be the same,
The deede proveth it is so,
Thus am I yours for evermo.
Tho was pleasance and joy enough;
Each one with other play and lough;
They lived long, and well they far'd,
And clerkes, that this chance heard,
They written it in evidence,
To teach, how that obedience
May well fortune a man to love,
And set him in his lust above."
Lydgate. It has been the custom with many respectable critics, such as Bishop Percy, Ritson, Pinkerton, and Ellis, to decry Lydgate's talents. The cry was first raised by Ritson, who was at once an acute critic and a thorough literary blackguard; with prejudices so violent against the clergy in especial, that he was the bitter contemner of the lowest of the order. Indeed the argument upon which he principally relied to uncanon
2 Ellis's Spec. Early Eng. Poets, vol. 1., p. 142. Compare this selection with p. 215 of this work.
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