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The Canterbury Tales - The Monk's Tale
Heere bigynneth the Monkes Tale
De Casibus Virorum Illustrium.

	I wol biwaille in manere of tragedie
	The harm of hem that stoode in heigh degree,
	And fillen so that ther nas no remedie
	To brynge hem out of hir adversitee.
1995	For certein, whan that Fortune list to flee,
	Ther may no man the cours of hire withholde.
	Lat no man truste on blynd prosperitee;
	Be war by thise ensamples trewe and olde.

Lucifer

	At Lucifer, though he an angel were
2000	And nat a man, at hym wol I bigynne.
	For though Fortune may noon angel dere,
	From heigh degree yet fel he for his synne
	Doun into helle, where he yet is inne.
	O Lucifer, brightest of angels alle,
2005	Now artow Sathanas, that mayst nat twynne
	Out of miserie, in which that thou art falle.

Adam

	Loo Adam, in the feeld of Damyssene
	With Goddes owene fynger wroght was he,
	And nat bigeten of mannes sperme unclene,
2010	And welte al paradys savynge o tree.
	Hadde nevere worldly man so heigh degree
	As Adam, til he for mysgovernaunce
	Was dryven out of hys hye prosperitee
	To labour, and to helle, and to meschaunce.

Sampson

2015	Loo Sampsoun, which that was annunciat
	By th' angel longe er his nativitee,
	And was to God Almyghty consecrat,
	And stood in noblesse whil he myghte see.
	Was nevere swich another as was hee,
2020	To speke of strengthe, and therwith hardynesse;
	But to his wyves toolde he his secree,
	Thurgh which he slow hymself for wrecchednesse.
	Sampsoun, this noble almyghty champioun,
	Withouten wepen save his handes tweye,
2025	He slow and al torente the leoun,
	Toward his weddyng walkynge by the weye.
	His false wyf koude hym so plese and preye
	Til she his conseil knew; and she, untrewe,
	Unto his foos his conseil gan biwreye,
2030	And hym forsook, and took another newe.
	Thre hundred foxes took Sampson for ire,
	And alle hir tayles he togydre bond,
	And sette the foxes tayles alle on fire,
	For he on every tayl had knyt a brond;
2035	And they brende alle the cornes in that lond,
	And alle hire olyveres, and vynes eke.
	A thousand men he slow eek with his hond,
	And hadde no wepen but an asses cheke.
	Whan they were slayn, so thursted hym that he
2040	Was wel ny lorn, for which he gan to preye
	That God wolde on his peyne han some pitee
	And sende hym drynke, or elles moste he deye;
	And of this asses cheke, that was dreye,
	Out of a wang-tooth sprang anon a welle,
2045	Of which he drank ynogh, shortly to seye;
	Thus heelp hym God, as Judicum can telle.
	By verray force at Gazan on a nyght,
	Maugree Philistiens of that citee,
	The gates of the toun he hath up plyght,
2050	And on his bak ycaryed hem hath hee
	Hye on an hill whereas men myghte hem see.
	O noble, almyghty Sampsoun, lief and deere,
	Had thou nat toold to wommen thy secree,
	In al this world ne hadde been thy peere!
2055	This Sampson nevere ciser drank ne wyn,
	Ne on his heed cam rasour noon ne sheere,
	By precept of the messager divyn,
	For alle his strengthes in his heeres weere.
	And fully twenty wynter, yeer by yeere,
2060	He hadde of Israel the governaunce.
	But soone shal he wepe many a teere,
	For wommen shal hym bryngen to meschaunce!
	Unto his lemman Dalida he tolde
	That in his heeris al his strengthe lay,
2065	And falsly to his foomen she hym solde.
	And slepynge in hir barm upon a day,
	She made to clippe or shere his heres away,
	And made his foomen al his craft espyen;
	And whan that they hym foond in this array,
2070	They bounde hym faste and putten out his yen.
	But er his heer were clipped or yshave,
	Ther was no boond with which men myghte him bynde;
	But now is he in prison in a cave,
	Where-as they made hym at the queerne grynde.
2075	O noble Sampsoun, strongest of mankynde,
	O whilom juge, in glorie and in richesse!
	Now maystow wepen with thyne eyen blynde,
	Sith thou fro wele art falle in wrecchednesse.
	The ende of this caytyf was as I shal seye.
2080	His foomen made a feeste upon a day,
	And made hym as hire fool biforn hem pleye;
	And this was in a temple of greet array.
	But atte laste he made a foul affray,
	For he two pilers shook and made hem falle,
2085	And doun fil temple and al, and ther it lay --
	And slow hymself, and eek his foomen alle.
	This is to seyn, the prynces everichoon,
	And eek thre thousand bodyes, were ther slayn
	With fallynge of the grete temple of stoon.
2090	Of Sampson now wol I namoore sayn.
	Beth war by this ensample oold and playn
	That no men telle hir conseil til hir wyves
	Of swich thyng as they wolde han secree fayn,
	If that it touche hir lymes or hir lyves.

Hercules

2095	Of Hercules, the sovereyn conquerour,
	Syngen his werkes laude and heigh renoun;
	For in his tyme of strengthe he was the flour.
	He slow and rafte the skyn of the leoun;
	He of Centauros leyde the boost adoun;
2100	He Arpies slow, the crueel bryddes felle;
	He golden apples rafte of the dragoun;
	He drow out Cerberus, the hound of helle;
	He slow the crueel tyrant Busirus
	And made his hors to frete hym, flessh and boon;
2105	He slow the firy serpent venymus;
	Of Acheloys two hornes he brak oon;
	And he slow Cacus in a cave of stoon;
	He slow the geant Antheus the stronge;
	He slow the grisly boor, and that anon;
2110	And bar the hevene on his nekke longe.
	Was nevere wight, sith that this world bigan,
	That slow so manye monstres as dide he.
	Thurghout this wyde world his name ran,
	What for his strengthe and for his heigh bountee,
2115	And every reawme wente he for to see.
	He was so stroong that no man myghte hym lette.
	At bothe the worldes endes, seith Trophee,
	In stide of boundes he a pileer sette.
	A lemman hadde this noble champioun,
2120	That highte Dianira, fressh as May;
	And as thise clerkes maken mencioun,
	She hath hym sent a sherte, fressh and gay.
	Allas, this sherte -- allas and weylaway! --
	Envenymed was so subtilly withalle
2125	That er that he had wered it half a day
	It made his flessh al from his bones falle.
	But nathelees somme clerkes hire excusen
	By oon that highte Nessus, that it maked.
	Be as be may, I wol hire noght accusen;
2130	But on his bak this sherte he wered al naked
	Til that his flessh was for the venym blaked.
	And whan he saugh noon oother remedye,
	In hoote coles he hath hymselven raked,
	For with no venym deigned hym to dye.
2135	Thus starf this worthy, myghty Hercules.
	Lo, who may truste on Fortune any throwe?
	For hym that folweth al this world of prees
	Er he be war is ofte yleyd ful lowe.
	Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe!
2140	Beth war, for whan that Fortune list to glose,
	Thanne wayteth she her man to overthrowe
	By swich a wey as he wolde leest suppose.

Nabugodonosor

	The myghty trone, the precious tresor,
	The glorious ceptre, and roial magestee
2145	That hadde the kyng Nabugodonosor
	With tonge unnethe may discryved bee.
	He twyes wan Jerusalem the citee;
	The vessel of the temple he with hym ladde.
	At Babiloigne was his sovereyn see,
2150	In which his glorie and his delit he hadde.
	The faireste children of the blood roial
	Of Israel he leet do gelde anoon,
	And maked ech of hem to been his thral.
	Amonges othere Daniel was oon,
2155	That was the wiseste child of everychon,
	For he the dremes of the kyng expowned,
	Whereas in Chaldeye clerk ne was ther noon
	That wiste to what fyn his dremes sowned.
	This proude kyng leet maken a statue of gold,
2160	Sixty cubites long and sevene in brede,
	To which ymage bothe yong and oold
	Comanded he to loute, and have in drede,
	Or in a fourneys, ful of flambes rede,
	He shal be brent that wolde noght obeye.
2165	But nevere wolde assente to that dede
	Daniel ne his yonge felawes tweye.
	This kyng of kynges proud was and elaat;
	He wende that God, that sit in magestee,
	Ne myghte hym nat bireve of his estaat.
2170	But sodeynly he loste his dignytee,
	And lyk a beest hym semed for to bee,
	And eet hey as an oxe, and lay theroute
	In reyn; with wilde beestes walked hee
	Til certein tyme was ycome aboute.
2175	And lik an egles fetheres wax his heres;
	His nayles lyk a briddes clawes weere;
	Til God relessed hym a certeyn yeres,
	And yaf hym wit, and thanne with many a teere
	He thanked God, and evere his lyf in feere
2180	Was he to doon amys or moore trespace;
	And til that tyme he leyd was on his beere
	He knew that God was ful of myght and grace.

Balthasar

	His sone, which that highte Balthasar,
	That heeld the regne after his fader day,
2185	He by his fader koude noght be war,
	For proud he was of herte and of array,
	And eek an ydolastre was he ay.
	His hye estaat assured hym in pryde;
	But Fortune caste hym doun, and ther he lay,
2190	And sodeynly his regne gan divide.
	A feeste he made unto his lordes alle
	Upon a tyme and bad hem blithe bee;
	And thanne his officeres gan he calle:
	"Gooth, bryngeth forth the vesseles," quod he,
2195	"Whiche that my fader in his prosperitee
	Out of the temple of Jerusalem birafte;
	And to oure hye goddes thanke we
	Of honour that oure eldres with us lafte."
	Hys wyf, his lordes, and his concubynes
2200	Ay dronken, whil hire appetites laste,
	Out of thise noble vessels sondry wynes.
	And on a wal this kyng his eyen caste
	And saugh an hand, armlees, that wroot ful faste,
	For feere of which he quook and siked soore.
2205	This hand that Balthasar so soore agaste
	Wroot Mane, techel, phares, and namoore.
	In all that land magicien was noon
	That koude expoune what this lettre mente;
	But Daniel expowned it anoon,
2210	And seyde, "Kyng, God to thy fader lente
	Glorie and honour, regne, tresour, rente;
	And he was proud and nothyng God ne dradde,
	And therfore God greet wreche upon hym sente,
	And hym birafte the regne that he hadde.
2215	"He was out cast of mannes compaignye;
	With asses was his habitacioun,
	And eet hey as a beest in weet and drye
	Til that he knew, by grace and by resoun,
	That God of hevene hath domynacioun
2220	Over every regne and every creature;
	And thanne hadde God of hym compassioun,
	And hym restored his regne and his figure.
	"Eek thou, that art his sone, art proud also,
	And knowest alle thise thynges verraily,
2225	And art rebel to God, and art his foo.
	Thou drank eek of his vessels boldely;
	Thy wyf eek, and thy wenches, synfully
	Dronke of the same vessels sondry wynys;
	And heryest false goddes cursedly;
2230	Therefore to thee yshapen ful greet pyne ys.
	"This hand was sent from God that on the wal
	Wroot Mane, techel, phares, truste me;
	Thy regne is doon; thou weyest noght at al.
	Dyvyded is thy regne, and it shal be
2235	To Medes and to Perses yeven," quod he.
	And thilke same nyght this kyng was slawe,
	And Darius occupieth his degree,
	Thogh he therto hadde neither right ne lawe.
	Lordynges, ensample heerby may ye take
2240	How that in lordshipe is no sikernesse,
	For whan Fortune wole a man forsake,
	She bereth awey his regne and his richesse,
	And eek his freendes, bothe moore and lesse.
	For what man that hath freendes thurgh Fortune,
2245	Mishap wol maken hem enemys, I gesse;
	This proverbe is ful sooth and ful commune.

Cenobia

	Cenobia, of Palymerie queene,
	As writen Persiens of hir noblesse,
	So worthy was in armes and so keene
2250	That no wight passed hire in hardynesse,
	Ne in lynage, ne in oother gentillesse.
	Of kynges blood of Perce is she descended.
	I seye nat that she hadde moost fairnesse,
	But of hir shap she myghte nat been amended.
2255	From hire childhede I fynde that she fledde
	Office of wommen, and to wode she wente,
	And many a wilde hertes blood she shedde
	With arwes brode that she to hem sente.
	She was so swift that she anon hem hente;
2260	And whan that she was elder, she wolde kille
	Leouns, leopardes, and beres al torente,
	And in hir armes weelde hem at hir wille.
	She dorste wilde beestes dennes seke,
	And rennen in the montaignes al the nyght,
2265	And slepen under a bussh, and she koude eke
	Wrastlen, by verray force and verray myght,
	With any yong man, were he never so wight.
	Ther myghte no thyng in hir armes stonde.
	She kepte hir maydenhod from every wight;
2270	To no man deigned hire for to be bonde.
	But atte laste hir freendes han hire maried
	To Odenake, a prynce of that contree,
	Al were it so that she hem longe taried.
	And ye shul understonde how that he
2275	Hadde swiche fantasies as hadde she.
	But natheless, whan they were knyt in-feere,
	They lyved in joye and in felicitee,
	For ech of hem hadde oother lief and deere,
	Save o thyng: that she wolde nevere assente,
2280	By no wey, that he sholde by hire lye
	But ones, for it was hir pleyn entente
	To have a child, the world to multiplye;
	And also soone as that she myghte espye
	That she was nat with childe with that dede,
2285	Thanne wolde she suffre hym doon his fantasye
	Eft-soone, and nat but oones, out of drede.
	And if she were with childe at thilke cast,
	Namoore sholde he pleyen thilke game
	Til fully fourty [wikes] weren past;
2290	Thanne wolde she ones suffre hym do the same.
	Al were this Odenake wilde or tame,
	He gat namoore of hire, for thus she seyde:
	It was to wyves lecherie and shame,
	In oother caas, if that men with hem pleyde.
2295	Two sones by this Odenake hadde she,
	The whiche she kepte in vertu and lettrure.
	But now unto oure tale turne we.
	I seye, so worshipful a creature,
	And wys therwith, and large with mesure,
2300	So penyble in the werre, and curteis eke,
	Ne moore labour myghte in werre endure,
	Was noon, though al this world men sholde seke.
	Hir riche array ne myghte nat be told,
	As wel in vessel as in hire clothyng.
2305	She was al clad in perree and in gold,
	And eek she lafte noght, for noon huntyng,
	To have of sondry tonges ful knowyng,
	Whan that she leyser hadde; and for to entende
	To lerne bookes was al hire likyng,
2310	How she in vertu myghte hir lyf dispende.
	And shortly of this storie for to trete,
	So doghty was hir housbonde and eek she,
	That they conquered manye regnes grete
	In the orient, with many a fair citee
2315	Apertenaunt unto the magestee
	Of Rome, and with strong hond held hem ful faste,
	Ne nevere myghte hir foomen doon hem flee,
	Ay whil that Odenakes dayes laste.
	Hir batailles, whoso list hem for to rede,
2320	Agayn Sapor the kyng and othere mo,
	And how that al this proces fil in dede,
	Why she conquered and what title had therto,
	And after, of hir meschief and hire wo,
	How that she was biseged and ytake --
2325	Lat hym unto my maister Petrak go,
	That writ ynough of this, I undertake.
	Whan Odenake was deed, she myghtily
	The regnes heeld, and with hire propre hond
	Agayn hir foos she faught so cruelly
2330	That ther nas kyng ne prynce in al that lond
	That he nas glad, if he that grace fond,
	That she ne wolde upon his lond werreye.
	With hire they maden alliance by bond
	To been in pees, and lete hire ride and pleye.
2335	The Emperour of Rome, Claudius
	Ne hym bifore, the Romayn Galien,
	Ne dorste nevere been so corageus,
	Ne noon Ermyn, ne noon Egipcien,
	Ne Surrien, ne noon Arabyen,
2340	Withinne the feeld that dorste with hire fighte,
	Lest that she wolde hem with hir handes slen,
	Or with hir meignee putten hem to flighte.
	In kynges habit wente hir sones two,
	As heires of hir fadres regnes alle,
2345	And Hermanno and Thymalao
	Hir names were, as Persiens hem calle.
	But ay Fortune hath in hire hony galle;
	This myghty queene may no while endure.
	Fortune out of hir regne made hire falle
2350	To wrecchednesse and to mysaventure.
	Aurelian, whan that the governaunce
	Of Rome cam into his handes tweye,
	He shoop upon this queene to doon vengeaunce.
	And with his legions he took his weye
2355	Toward Cenobie, and shortly for to seye,
	He made hire flee, and atte laste hire hente,
	And fettred hire, and eek hire children tweye,
	And wan the land, and hoom to Rome he wente.
	Amonges othere thynges that he wan,
2360	Hir chaar, that was with gold wroght and perree,
	This grete Romayn, this Aurelian,
	Hath with hym lad, for that men sholde it see.
	Biforen his triumphe walketh shee,
	With gilte cheynes on hire nekke hangynge.
2365	Coroned was she, as after hir degree,
	And ful of perree charged hire clothynge.
	Allas, Fortune! She that whilom was
	Dredeful to kynges and to emperoures,
	Now gaureth al the peple on hire, allas!
2370	And she that helmed was in starke stoures
	And wan by force townes stronge and toures,
	Shal on hir heed now were a vitremyte;
	And she that bar the ceptre ful of floures
	Shal bere a distaf, hire cost for to quyte.

De Petro Rege Ispannie

2375	O noble, O worthy Petro, glorie of Spayne,
	Whom Fortune heeld so hye in magestee,
	Wel oghten men thy pitous deeth complayne!
	Out of thy land thy brother made thee flee,
	And after, at a seege, by subtiltee,
2380	Thou were bitraysed and lad unto his tente,
	Where as he with his owene hand slow thee,
	Succedynge in thy regne and in thy rente.
	The feeld of snow, with th' egle of blak therinne,
	Caught with the lymrod coloured as the gleede,
2385	He brew this cursednesse and al this synne.
	The wikked nest was werker of this nede.
	Noght Charles Olyver, that took ay heede
	Of trouthe and honour, but of Armorike
	Genylon-Olyver, corrupt for meede,
2390	Broghte this worthy kyng in swich a brike.

De Petro Rege de Cipro

	O worthy Petro, kyng of Cipre, also,
	That Alisandre wan by heigh maistrie,
	Ful many an hethen wroghtestow ful wo,
	Of which thyne owene liges hadde envie,
2395	And for no thyng but for thy chivalrie
	They in thy bed han slayn thee by the morwe.
	Thus kan Fortune hir wheel governe and gye,
	And out of joye brynge men to sorwe.

De Barnabo de Lumbardia

	Off Melan grete Barnabo Viscounte,
2400	God of delit and scourge of Lumbardye,
	Why sholde I nat thyn infortune acounte,
	Sith in estaat thow cloumbe were so hye?
	Thy brother sone, that was thy double allye,
	For he thy nevew was and sone-in-lawe,
2405	Withinne his prisoun made thee to dye --
	But why ne how noot I that thou were slawe.

De Hugelino Comite de Pize

	Off the Erl Hugelyn of Pyze the langour
	Ther may no tonge telle for pitee.
	But litel out of Pize stant a tour,
2410	In which tour in prisoun put was he,
	And with hym been his litel children thre;
	The eldest scarsly fyf yeer was of age.
	Allas, Fortune, it was greet crueltee
	Swiche briddes for to putte in swich a cage!
2415	Dampned was he to dyen in that prisoun,
	For Roger, which that bisshop was of Pize,
	Hadde on hym maad a fals suggestioun,
	Thurgh which the peple gan upon hym rise
	And putten hym to prisoun in swich wise
2420	As ye han herd, and mete and drynke he hadde
	So smal that wel unnethe it may suffise,
	And therwithal it was ful povre and badde.
	And on a day bifil that in that hour
	Whan that his mete wont was to be broght,
2425	The gayler shette the dores of the tour.
	He herde it wel, but he spak right noght,
	And in his herte anon ther fil a thoght
	That they for hunger wolde doon hym dyen.
	"Allas!" quod he, "Allas, that I was wroght!"
2430	Therwith the teeris fillen from his yen.
	His yonge sone, that thre yeer was of age,
	Unto hym seyde, "Fader, why do ye wepe?
	Whanne wol the gayler bryngen oure potage?
	Is ther no morsel breed that ye do kepe?
2435	I am so hungry that I may nat slepe.
	Now wolde God that I myghte slepen evere!
	Thanne sholde nat hunger in my wombe crepe;
	Ther is no thyng, but breed, that me were levere."
	Thus day by day this child bigan to crye,
2440	Til in his fadres barm adoun it lay,
	And seyde, "Farewel, fader, I moot dye!"
	And kiste his fader, and dyde the same day.
	And whan the woful fader deed it say,
	For wo his armes two he gan to byte,
2445	And seyde, "Allas, Fortune, and weylaway!
	Thy false wheel my wo al may I wyte."
	His children wende that it for hunger was
	That he his armes gnow, and nat for wo,
	And seyde, "Fader, do nat so, allas!
2450	But rather ete the flessh upon us two.
	Oure flessh thou yaf us, take oure flessh us fro,
	And ete ynogh" -- right thus they to hym seyde,
	And after that, withinne a day or two,
	They leyde hem in his lappe adoun and deyde.
2455	Hymself, despeired, eek for hunger starf;
	Thus ended is this myghty Erl of Pize.
	From heigh estaat Fortune awey hym carf.
	Of this tragedie it oghte ynough suffise;
	Whoso wol here it in a lenger wise,
2460	Redeth the grete poete of Ytaille
	That highte Dant, for he kan al devyse
	Fro point to point; nat o word wol he faille.

Nero

	Although that Nero were as vicius
	As any feend that lith ful lowe adoun,
2465	Yet he, as telleth us Swetonius,
	This wyde world hadde in subjeccioun,
	Bothe est and west, [south], and septemtrioun.
	Of rubies, saphires, and of peerles white
	Were alle his clothes brouded up and doun,
2470	For he in gemmes greetly gan delite.
	Moore delicaat, moore pompous of array,
	Moore proud was nevere emperour than he;
	That ilke clooth that he hadde wered o day,
	After that tyme he nolde it nevere see.
2475	Nettes of gold threed hadde he greet plentee
	To fisshe in Tybre, whan hym liste pleye.
	His lustes were al lawe in his decree,
	For Fortune as his freend hym wolde obeye.
	He Rome brende for his delicasie;
2480	The senatours he slow upon a day
	To heere how that men wolde wepe and crie;
	And slow his brother, and by his suster lay.
	His mooder made he in pitous array,
	For he hire wombe slitte to biholde
2485	Where he conceyved was -- so weilaway
	That he so litel of his mooder tolde!
	No teere out of his eyen for that sighte
	Ne cam, but seyde, "A fair womman was she!"
	Greet wonder is how that he koude or myghte
2490	Be domesman of hire dede beautee.
	The wyn to bryngen hym comanded he,
	And drank anon -- noon oother wo he made.
	Whan myght is joyned unto crueltee,
	Allas, to depe wol the venym wade!
2495	In yowthe a maister hadde this emperour
	To teche hym letterure and curteisye,
	For of moralitee he was the flour,
	As in his tyme, but if bookes lye;
	And whil this maister hadde of hym maistrye,
2500	He maked hym so konnyng and so sowple
	That longe tyme it was er tirannye
	Or any vice dorste on hym uncowple.
	This Seneca, of which that I devyse,
	By cause Nero hadde of hym swich drede,
2505	For he fro vices wolde hym ay chastise
	Discreetly, as by word and nat by dede --
	"Sire," wolde he seyn, "an emperour moot nede
	Be vertuous and hate tirannye --"
	For which he in a bath made hym to blede
2510	On bothe his armes, til he moste dye.
	This Nero hadde eek of acustumaunce
	In youthe agayns his maister for to ryse,
	Which afterward hym thoughte a greet grevaunce;
	Therefore he made hym dyen in this wise.
2515	But natheless this Seneca the wise
	Chees in a bath to dye in this manere
	Rather than han another tormentise;
	And thus hath Nero slayn his maister deere.
	Now fil it so that Fortune liste no lenger
2520	The hye pryde of Nero to cherice,
	For though that he were strong, yet was she strenger.
	She thoughte thus: "By God! I am to nyce
	To sette a man that is fulfild of vice
	In heigh degree, and emperour hym calle.
2525	By God, out of his sete I wol hym trice;
	Whan he leest weneth, sonnest shal he falle."
	The peple roos upon hym on a nyght
	For his defaute, and whan he it espied,
	Out of his dores anon he hath hym dight
2530	Allone, and ther he wende han been allied
	He knokked faste, and ay the moore he cried
	The fastere shette they the dores alle.
	Tho wiste he wel, he hadde himself mysgyed,
	And wente his wey; no lenger dorste he calle.
2535	The peple cried and rombled up and doun,
	That with his erys herde he how they seyde,
	"Where is this false tiraunt, this Neroun?"
	For fere almoost out of his wit he breyde,
	And to his goddes pitously he preyde
2540	For socour, but it myghte nat bityde.
	For drede of this hym thoughte that he deyde,
	And ran into a gardyn hym to hyde.
	And in this gardyn foond he cherles tweye
	That seten by a fyr, greet and reed.
2545	And to thise cherles two he gan to preye
	To sleen hym and to girden of his heed,
	That to his body, whan that he were deed,
	Were no despit ydoon for his defame.
	Hymself he slow, he koude no bettre reed,
2550	Of which Fortune lough, and hadde a game.

De Oloferno

	Was nevere capitayn under a kyng
	That regnes mo putte in subjeccioun,
	Ne strenger was in feeld of alle thyng,
	As in his tyme, ne gretter of renoun,
2555	Ne moore pompous in heigh presumpcioun
	Than Oloferne, which Fortune ay kiste
	So likerously, and ladde hym up and doun
	Til that his heed was of, er that he wiste.
	Nat oonly that this world hadde hym in awe
2560	For lesynge of richesse or libertee,
	But he made every man reneyen his lawe.
	"Nabugodonosor was god," seyde hee;
	"Noon oother god sholde adoured bee."
	Agayns his heeste no wight dorst trespace,
2565	Save in Bethulia, a strong citee,
	Where Eliachim a preest was of that place.
	But taak kep of the deth of Oloferne:
	Amydde his hoost he dronke lay a-nyght,
	Withinne his tente, large as is a berne,
2570	And yet, for al his pompe and al his myght,
	Judith, a womman, as he lay upright
	Slepynge, his heed of smoot, and from his tente
	Ful pryvely she stal from every wight,
	And with his heed unto hir toun she wente.

De Rege Antiocho illustri

2575	What nedeth it of kyng Anthiochus
	To telle his hye roial magestee,
	His hye pride, his werkes venymus?
	For swich another was ther noon as he.
	Rede which that he was in Machabee,
2580	And rede the proude wordes that he seyde,
	And why he fil fro heigh prosperitee,
	And in an hill how wrecchedly he deyde.
	Fortune hym hadde enhaunced so in pride
	That verraily he wende he myghte attayne
2585	Unto the sterres upon every syde,
	And in balance weyen ech montayne,
	And alle the floodes of the see restrayne.
	And Goddes peple hadde he moost in hate;
	Hem wolde he sleen in torment and in payne,
2590	Wenynge that God ne myghte his pride abate.
	And for that Nichanore and Thymothee
	Of Jewes weren venquysshed myghtily,
	Unto the Jewes swich an hate hadde he
	That he bad greithen his chaar ful hastily,
2595	And swoor, and seyde ful despitously
	Unto Jerusalem he wolde eftsoone
	To wreken his ire on it ful cruelly;
	But of his purpos he was let ful soone.
	God for his manace hym so soore smoot
2600	With invisible wounde, ay incurable,
	That in his guttes carf it so and boot
	That his peynes weren importable.
	And certeinly the wreche was resonable,
	For many a mannes guttes dide he peyne.
2605	But from his purpos cursed and dampnable,
	For al his smert, he wolde hym nat restreyne,
	But bad anon apparaillen his hoost;
	And sodeynly, er he was of it war,
	God daunted al his pride and al his boost.
2610	For he so soore fil out of his char
	That it his limes and his skyn totar,
	So that he neyther myghte go ne ryde,
	But in a chayer men aboute hym bar,
	Al forbrused, bothe bak and syde.
2615	The wreche of God hym smoot so cruelly
	That thurgh his body wikked wormes crepte,
	And therwithal he stank so horribly
	That noon of al his meynee that hym kepte,
	Wheither so he wook or ellis slepte,
2620	Ne myghte noght the stynk of hym endure.
	In this meschief he wayled and eek wepte,
	And knew God lord of every creature.
	To al his hoost and to hymself also
	Ful wlatsom was the stynk of his careyne;
2625	No man ne myghte hym bere to ne fro.
	And in this stynk and this horrible peyne,
	He starf ful wrecchedly in a monteyne.
	Thus hath this robbour and this homycide,
	That many a man made to wepe and pleyne,
2630	Swich gerdoun as bilongeth unto pryde.
	The storie of Alisaundre is so commune
	That every wight that hath discrecioun
	Hath herd somwhat or al of his fortune.
	This wyde world, as in conclusioun,
2635	He wan by strengthe, or for his hye renoun
	They weren glad for pees unto hym sende.
	The pride of man and beest he leyde adoun,
	Wherso he cam, unto the worldes ende.
	Comparisoun myghte nevere yet been maked
2640	Bitwixe hym and another conquerour;
	For al this world for drede of hym hath quaked.
	He was of knyghthod and of fredom flour;
	Fortune hym made the heir of hire honour.
	Save wyn and wommen, no thing myghte aswage
2645	His hye entente in armes and labour,
	So was he ful of leonyn corage.
	What pris were it to hym, though I yow tolde
	Of Darius, and an hundred thousand mo
	Of kynges, princes, dukes, erles bolde
2650	Whiche he conquered, and broghte hem into wo?
	I seye, as fer as man may ryde or go,
	The world was his -- what sholde I moore devyse?
	For though I write or tolde yow everemo
	Of his knyghthod, it myghte nat suffise.
2655	Twelf yeer he regned, as seith Machabee.
	Philippes sone of Macidoyne he was,
	That first was kyng in Grece the contree.
	O worthy, gentil Alisandre, allas,
	That evere sholde fallen swich a cas!
2660	Empoysoned of thyn owene folk thou weere;
	Thy sys Fortune hath turned into aas,
	And for thee ne weep she never a teere.
	Who shal me yeven teeris to compleyne
	The deeth of gentillesse and of franchise,
2665	That al the world weelded in his demeyne,
	And yet hym thoughte it myghte nat suffise?
	So ful was his corage of heigh emprise.
	Allas, who shal me helpe to endite
	False Fortune, and poyson to despise,
2670	The whiche two of al this wo I wyte?

De Julio Cesare

	By wisedom, manhede, and by greet labour,
	From humble bed to roial magestee
	Up roos he Julius, the conquerour,
	That wan al th' occident by land and see,
2675	By strengthe of hand, or elles by tretee,
	And unto Rome made hem tributarie;
	And sitthe of Rome the emperour was he
	Til that Fortune weex his adversarie.
	O myghty Cesar, that in Thessalie
2680	Agayn Pompeus, fader thyn in lawe,
	That of the orient hadde al the chivalrie
	As fer as that the day bigynneth dawe,
	Thou thurgh thy knyghthod hast hem take and slawe,
	Save fewe folk that with Pompeus fledde,
2685	Thurgh which thou puttest al th' orient in awe.
	Thanke Fortune, that so wel thee spedde!
	But now a litel while I wol biwaille
	This Pompeus, this noble governour
	Of Rome, which that fleigh at this bataille.
2690	I seye, oon of his men, a fals traitour,
	His heed of smoot, to wynnen hym favour
	Of Julius, and hym the heed he broghte.
	Allas, Pompeye, of th' orient conquerour,
	That Fortune unto swich a fyn thee broghte!
2695	To Rome agayn repaireth Julius
	With his triumphe, lauriat ful hye;
	But on a tyme Brutus Cassius,
	That evere hadde of his hye estaat envye,
	Ful prively hath maad conspiracye
2700	Agayns this Julius in subtil wise,
	And caste the place in which he sholde dye
	With boydekyns, as I shal yow devyse.
	This Julius to the Capitolie wente
	Upon a day, as he was wont to goon,
2705	And in the Capitolie anon hym hente
	This false Brutus and his othere foon,
	And stiked hym with boydekyns anoon
	With many a wounde, and thus they lete hym lye;
	But nevere gronte he at no strook but oon,
2710	Or elles at two, but if his storie lye.
	So manly was this Julius of herte,
	And so wel lovede estaatly honestee,
	That though his deedly woundes soore smerte,
	His mantel over his hypes caste he,
2715	For no man sholde seen his privetee;
	And as he lay of diyng in a traunce,
	And wiste verraily that deed was hee,
	Of honestee yet hadde he remembraunce.
	Lucan, to thee this storie I recomende,
2720	And to Swetoun, and to Valerius also,
	That of this storie writen word and ende,
	How that to thise grete conqueroures two
	Fortune was first freend, and sitthe foo.
	No man ne truste upon hire favour longe,
2725	But have hire in awayt for everemoo;
	Witnesse on alle thise conqueroures stronge.

Cresus

	This riche Cresus, whilom kyng of Lyde,
	Of which Cresus Cirus soore hym dradde,
	Yet was he caught amyddes al his pryde,
2730	And to be brent men to the fyr hym ladde.
	But swich a reyn doun fro the welkne shadde
	That slow the fyr, and made hym to escape;
	But to be war no grace yet he hadde,
	Til Fortune on the galwes made hym gape.
2735	Whanne he escaped was, he kan nat stente
	For to bigynne a newe werre agayn.
	He wende wel, for that Fortune hym sente
	Swich hap that he escaped thurgh the rayn,
	That of his foos he myghte nat be slayn;
2740	And eek a sweven upon a nyght he mette,
	Of which he was so proud and eek so fayn
	That in vengeance he al his herte sette.
	Upon a tree he was, as that hym thoughte,
	Ther Juppiter hym wessh, bothe bak and syde,
2745	And Phebus eek a fair towaille hym broughte
	To dryen hym with; and therfore wax his pryde,
	And to his doghter, that stood hym bisyde,
	Which that he knew in heigh sentence habounde,
	He bad hire telle hym what it signyfyde,
2750	And she his dreem bigan right thus expounde:
	"The tree," quod she, "the galwes is to meene,
	And Juppiter bitokneth snow and reyn,
	And Phebus, with his towaille so clene,
	Tho been the sonne stremes for to seyn.
2755	Thou shalt anhanged be, fader, certeyn;
	Reyn shal thee wasshe, and sonne shal thee drye."
	Thus warned hym ful plat and ek ful pleyn
	His doghter, which that called was Phanye.
	Anhanged was Cresus, the proude kyng;
2760	His roial trone myghte hym nat availle.
	Tragedies noon oother maner thyng
	Ne kan in syngyng crie ne biwaille
	But that Fortune alwey wole assaille
	With unwar strook the regnes that been proude;
2765	For whan men trusteth hire, thanne wol she faille,
	And covere hire brighte face with a clowde.

Explicit Tragedia.
Here stynteth the Knyght the Monk of his tale.

Site Updated March 31, 2011