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Full text of "The history of Fulk Fitz Warine, an outlawed baron in the reign of King John. Ed. from a manuscript preserved in the British museum, with an English translation and explanatory and illustrative notes, by Thomas Wright .."

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F U L K F I T Z W A R I N E. 














THERE had lain long concealed in a manuscript 
in the ancient Royal Library, now in the British 
Museum (MS. Reg. 1%, c. xii), a narrative 
which appears to have escaped attention partly 
through the indefinite manner in which it was 
described in the catalogue : Historia rerum 
Anglicarum, a W. I., usque ad regem Johannem : 
Gallice ; Ubi plura sunt fata, pr&cipue de 
Fulcone quodam ; and it was not till about twenty 
years ago, when the then new movement in his- 
torical research caused such manuscripts to be 
more carefully examined, that the real character 
and interest of this record were discovered. It 
forms the text of the following pages. The 
manuscript is in a hand of the reign of Edward II, 
and I think there can be little doubt that it was 
written before the year 1320 ; but it is evidently 
not the original text of the story, but a paraphrase 



of an earlier record. To any one who is accus- 
tomed to read the French and Anglo-Norman 
literature of the middle ages, a simple glance at 
the style and character of this history will carry 
the conviction that that original record was an 
Anglo-Norman poem. But we are not left to 
assume this from the general character only, for 
here and there, where the writer who turned it 
from verse into prose appears to have been 
seized with a fit of idleness, he has actually pre- 
served the rhymes of the original. In two in- 
stances, where he has given prophecies of Mer- 
lin, the words of the original poem remain so 
uncorrupted, that I have thought it right to print 
both passages in verse. But in several other places 
the original verse betrays itself in the midst of the 
paraphrase. If, for example, the reader will turn 
to the lower part of p. 17, and the upper part of 
p. 18, he will easily see that the original metres 
must have run somewhat as follows : 

Willam, quant ce oy surrit, 
Bele nece, bien avez dit; 
E de mon poer vus ayderay 
De tel seignur purchacer. 
E si vus dorray Blanche-Tour, 


E quanque apent ou tut Fonour; 
Quar femme que ad terre en fee 
Serra d'assez plus desiree. 
Lors fist Willam une crie 
En meynte terre, en meynte cite, 
Qe tous chevalers de valours, 
Qe torneier veilent pur amours, 
A la feste seint Michel 
Vienent a chastiel Peverel; 
E le chevaler qe mieux fra, 
E le tornoy venkera, 
Avera .... F amour 
Melette de la Blaunche-Tour, 
E sire serra e seignour 
De Blanche -Ville e tot Fonour. 
Tost fust ceste criee 
Par plusors terres publiee. 
Guaryn de Meez, le vaylaunt, 
Ne avoit femme ne enfant, 

I need only refer to pp. 20, 26, 7, etc., for 
passages where the original verse is equally ill dis- 
guised ; and in one instance at least (p. 48, ce 
fust pur nient, d ce qe Vestoyre dyt\ the author 
of the paraphrase makes a direct appeal to his 
original. In addition to this internal evidence, we 
have the distinct statement of John Leland, in 


the reign of Henry VIII, that he had in his hands 
" an olde French historie yn rime of the actes of 
the Guarines"; and his brief notice of it answers 
so exactly to the story as told in our prose ver- 
sion, that we can have no doubt of its having 
been the identical poem from which the para- 
phrase was made. 

Thus, from the date of the manuscript of the 
existing paraphrase in prose, we may fairly con- 
clude that the original Anglo-Norman poem was 
composed before the end of the thirteenth century. 
There are circumstances, however, connected 
with it, which enable us, conjecturally at least, 
to approximate still nearer to the exact date of its 
composition. We know that in the latter end of 
the reign of king John, Fulk fitz Warine was 
again in arms against the crown, as an adherent 
to the baronial cause, and it was not till the 4th 
of Henry III, that he made his peace with the king, 
and obtained the final restoration of his estates. 
I believe that our history is correct in stating 
that after this time Fulk withdrew from public 
life, and eventually retired to the religious house 
of which his father was the founder. Fulk's son, 


another Fulk fitz Warine, appears during his 
father's lifetime to have assumed the position as 
a powerful baron which the latter had retired 
from, and to have taken a very active part in 
public affairs, which was no doubt the cause of 
Dugdale's mistake in taking the father and son to 
be one person. It was, we can hardly doubt, the 
son who, according to Matthew Paris, was sent in 
1245 by the community of armed knights assem- 
bled at Luton and Dunstable, to wait upon the 
pope's clerk, master Martin, and warn him to leave 
the kingdom; and his behaviour on that occasion 
showed him to be a true son of the proud outlaw 
whose adventures are told in the present volume. 
At the decisive battle of Lewes, in 1264, he 
fought on the king's side, and met his death by 
drowning. I have shown (see note on p. 182) a 
reason for supposing that his father was alive in 
1256, very soon after which date I suspect he 
died. If the poem had been composed after the 
death of Fulk fitz Warine at Lewes, I think his 
fate would have been mentioned in it ; it might 
have been composed before the death of his father, 
who was already dead to the world, in which case 

the mention of his death would be a subsequent 
addition, but I am myself inclined to think that 
this was not the case. We should thus fix the 
date of the composition of the Anglo-Norman 
poem to the period between 1256 and 1264. 
Though this, of course, is nothing more than 
conjecture, I am inclined myself to believe that 
it was written very soon after the middle of the 
thirteenth century. 

It is a curious circumstance that Leland, who 
gives a brief abstract of the adventures of the 
Fitz Warines in his Collectanea (vol. i, p. 230), 
informs us that he took the greater part of it 
" owte of an old Englisch boke yn ryme of the 
gestes of Guarine and his sunnes", thus revealing 
to us the fact that there was an early English 
metrical version of the history I here publish. 
The language of this English poem was evidently 
obscure and difficult, for we see by a comparison 
of Leland's abstract with the history now pub- 
lished, that he continually misunderstood it, and 
that he fell into gross errors in the attempt to 
give its meaning. From one or two passages in 
Leland's abstract, I am inclined to suspect that 


this English poem was written in pure alliterative 
verse, like that of Piers Ploughman, a style of 
poetical composition which seems to have been 
popular on the Border. In the passage of Leland 
quoted at p. 19 of the present volume, we re- 
cognize an alliterative couplet in the statement 
that Joce de Dynan and Walter de Lacy met 

At a bent by a Sourne, 
At a bridge ende; 

meaning literally, " in a meadow by a burn or 
stream, at the end of a bridge". Leland has mis- 
taken the word bourne for the name of a place. 
In the next sentence preceding this, we have, by 
a mere transposition of words, an alliterative 
couplet equally perfect 

Owt of Zacy and Zudlow 
Of march hordes the greatest. 

This would partly explain Leland's errors, for the 
alliterative poetry is always and by far the most 
difficult to understand ; and I suppose that by " a 
book in rhyme", Leland only meant that it was in 
verse, or in rhithm. This English poem was pro- 
bably of about the same date as the Anglo-Norman 
prose paraphrase now printed, that is, of the begin- 


ning of the fourteenth century, at which period, for 
some cause or other, the adventures of Fulk fitz 
Warine were very popular. Robert de Brunne, 
a well-known English poet, who wrote during the 
first quarter of that century, in describing the 
condition to which Robert Bruce was reduced, 
when his defeat at Methven obliged him to seek 
refuge in the wilds of Scotland, compares it to 
that of Fulk fitz Warine, and actually refers to 
the book or history of his adventures. 

And wele I understode that the kyng Robyn 
Has dronken of that blode the drink of dan Waryn. 
Dan Waryn he les tounes that he held, 
With wrong he mad a res and misberyng of scheld. 
Sithen into the foreste he 3ede naked and wode, 
Als a wilde beste ete of the gres that stode ; 
Thus of dan Waryn in his boke men rede ; 
God 3yf the kyng Robyn that alle hys kynde so 
spede! (Hearnds edit., p. 335). 

The question of the historical value of this re- 
cord has greatly puzzled those who, accustomed 
chiefly to the more exact monuments of history, 
have had occasion to examine it. The general 
outline of the history is undoubtedly true, and 
many of the incidents are known from other evi- 


dence to have happened exactly or nearly as here 
related ; but it is equally certain that others are 
untrue, and some are strangely misplaced. The 
anachronisms, indeed, are extraordinary ; and, 
strangely enough, in that part of the history which 
comes nearest to the time of the narrator, the 
wild adventures of Fulk fitz Warine during his 
outlawry, it is assumed that king John was con- 
tinually present in England, whereas we know 
from the most undoubted authorities that he was 
during the whole time absent in Normandy. 
Most of these errors and anachronisms are pointed 
out in the notes at the end of the present volume, 
and it will therefore not be necessary to repeat 
them here. 

To understand them, it is necessary that we 
should take into consideration the peculiar cha- 
racter of the literature, as well as of the manners, 
of the age in which the original poem was written. 
It was the custom with the great barons to employ 
writers, who were often kept in their service, to 
compose poetical histories of their families, and 
other similar productions, which it was the busi- 
ness of the minstrels these composers were some- 


times minstrels themselves to recite on festive 
and other occasions. It was not necessarily the 
whole poem which they recited, but particular 
incidents, as they were called for. Thus, in the 
present case, the reciter might he called upon to 
tell the adventures of Fulk fitz Warine and 
king John in Windsor park, or the story of the 
first Fulk and the lady Hawise. The materials 
of these poems were neither taken from historical 
records nor from the imagination of the composer, 
but they were the traditions of the family, and 
we all know how such traditions are often modi- 
fied and disfigured in their progress from one 
mouth to another. An event, which was true in 
itself, became exaggerated, and sometimes dis- 
placed. In this instance, where a race of chiefs 
through several generations bore the same name 
of Fulk, this displacing of events, and ascribing 
to one acts which belonged to .another, and thus 
bringing together names which were not coeval, 
was hardly to be avoided. In fact, the writer of 
this history has actually made one person out of 
two individuals, and this error has been continued 
by Dugdale, and by all the compilers of peerages 


since his time, who have repeated the same error 
with regard to the two next generations of the 
same family, and made only two personages where 
there were really four. 

The writer of the history of the Fitz Warines 
was evidently an Anglo-Norman trouvere in the 
service of that great and powerful family, and 
displays an extraordinarily minute knowledge of 
the topography of the borders of Wales, and more 
especially of Ludlow and its immediate neigh- 
bourhood. Whatever historical mistakes he may 
have made, he never falls into an error with 
regard to localities, and his descriptions are so 
exact that we never fail to recognize the spot he 
describes. The narrative contained in pages 25 
to 30 was written by one whose eye was un- 
doubtedly habituated to the prospect from the 
towers of Ludlow castle, and he, no doubt, tells 
us truly what, in the thirteenth century, were 
the traditions at Ludlow of the history of that 
noble fortress. He repeated, as they were handed 
down by memory in the family, the history, or 
rather histories, of the Fitz Warines, for they 
were probably preserved rather as so many tales of 


the past, than in any way as a connected narrative. 
Hence, he would the more easily misplace them. 
In stories of adventures like these, it was easy to 
mistake at times the individual whom a particular 
Fitz Warine encountered or allied himself with, 
because with most of the border families, the re- 
lationship, whether friendly or hostile, had con- 
tinued from generation to generation ; and as one 
individual of a family was more celebrated, and, 
therefore, readier in people's mouths than another, 
his name was easily introduced in cases where 
another of his family was the real actor. In the 
same way, as there was a natural tendency to 
elevate and exaggerate the deeds of remarkable 
men, individuals of higher rank were gradually 
substituted for persons of lower degree, and adven- 
tures in which king John himself is here made 
to take a part in person, may really have occurred 
with some of his great officers. If the writer of 
the poem heard them told as he has related them, 
he would have no inclination to doubt, and 
if he did doubt or suspect their truth, it is not 
probable that he would have any means of testing 
it. When, however, his hero once took to sea, 


and left the English shores, he seems to have con- 
sidered that he was allowed free scope for his 
imagination ; for we can hardly help thinking that 
his adventures in Spain and Barbary were adopted 
from some of the current romances of the day, 
and they, therefore, are quite out of the pale of 
sober criticism. 

It will be understood, from these remarks, that 
we must take the history of the Fitz Warines, 
here published, for a historical document in a 
peculiar point of view ; it does not possess the 
exactitude of an official record, or even of a 
monastic chronicle, though, perhaps, it has more of 
the spirit of history, if we may here use the term, 
than either. It is traditional history, preserved 
in a great family, which had been much mixed in 
historical events, written down at an early period, 
and not long after a portion of the events which 
form its subject. It contains the errors which 
naturally belong to such a record of history, but 
it is truthful in its general character, and it pre- 
sents a most interesting and important picture of 
the manners and feelings of the period to which 
it relates, as well as of the characters of individuals 
as they were popularly appreciated. 


This very remarkable record of past ages has a 
peculiar interest for me, as a borderer by birth 
and education, and I have always desired to give 
an English edition of it. It was first made public 
in an edition by M. Francisque Michel (one of the 
most industrious and experienced of the French 
literary antiquaries), printed in Paris in 1840. 
A very careful collation of the original manu- 
script has enabled me to correct a few errors 
which had escaped the Parisian editor. My 
wish has been to present it in as popular a form 
as is consistent with the strict presentation of the 
original text; and as there are very few persons who 
can read with ease the peculiar language in which 
it is written, I have given with it a literal English 
translation, intended chiefly to facilitate the read- 
ing of the text, and a few illustrative notes. The 
object of the latter is chiefly to explain the allu- 
sions to places and persons ; and in regard of 
these, I have had the advantage of communication 
with a gentleman profoundly acquainted with the 
history of the county to which our narrative 
chiefly relates during the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries, and who has communicated his inform- 


ation with uniform liberality, the Rev. R. W. 
Eyton, of Ryton, in Shropshire, the author of the 
" Antiquities of Shropshire", now in the course 
of publication, which I look upon as, in its limits, 
the best local history that this country possesses. 
Some of Mr. Eyton's communications I have 
thought it but just to give in his own words, and 
with his initials. 


14, Sydney Street, Brompton. 
March 20th, 1855. 



EN le temps de Averyl e May, quant les prees e les 
herbes reverdissent, et chescune chose vivaunte recovre 
vertue, beaute, e force, les mountz e les valeys reten- 
tissent des douce chauntz des oseylouns, e les cuers de 
chescune gent, pur la beaute du temps e la sesone, 
mountent en haut e s'enjolyvent, donqe deit home re- 
menbrer des aventures e pruesses nos auncestres, qe 
se penerent pur honour eii leaute quere, e de teles 
choses parler qe a plusours purra valer. 

IN the season of April and May, when fields and plants 
become green again, and everything living recovers virtue, 
beauty, and force, hills and vales resound with the sweet 
songs of birds, and the hearts of all people, for the beauty of 
the weather and the season, rise up and gladden themselves, 
then we ought to call to memory the adventures and deeds 
of prowess of our forefathers who laboured to seek honour 
in loyalty, and to talk of such things as shall be profitable 
to many of us. 



Seygnours, vus avez oy eynz ces houres qe Willam 
Bastard, due de Normaundie, vynt ou grant gent e 
pueple santz nounbre en Engleterre, e conquist a force 
tote la terre, e ocist le roy Heraud, e se fist coroner a 
Loundres, e si estably pees e leys a sa volente, e dona 
terres a diverse gentz qe ou ly vyndrent. En ycel temps 
Yweyn Goynez fust prince de Gales, e si fust vailaunt 
e bon guerreour, e le roy le dota mout le plus. Cesty 
Yweyn out guaste tote la marche, e tote fust voyde de 
Cestre tanqe al mont Gylebert. Le roy se apparilla 
mout richement, e vint ou grant ost en le countee de 
Saloburs, e trova tote les villes arses de Cestre desqe 
a Salobure ; quar le prince clama tote la marche pur 
la sue e aportenaunte a Powys. Le prince se retret, 

Lords, you have heard heretofore how William the Bas- 
tard, duke of Normandy, came with a great host and people 
without number into England, and conquered by force all 
the land, and slew king Harold, and caused himself to be 
crowned at London, and established peace and laws at his 
will, and gave lands to divers people who came with him. 
At that time Owen G-wynned was prince of Wales, who 
was a valiant and good warrior, and the king feared him 
much the more. This Owen had ravaged all the march, 
and all was waste from Chester to Mount Gilbert. The 
king apparelled himself very richly, and came with a great 
host into the county of Shrewsbury, and found all the towns 
burnt between Chester and Shrewsbury; for the prince 
claimed all the march for his own and as belonging to 


quar yl ne osa atendre le roy. Le roy fust mout sages, 
e pensa qu'il dorreit les terrea de la marche as plus 
vaylauntz chevalers de tut le ost, pur ce qu'il devereynt 
defendre la marche de le prince a lur profit e al honour 
lur seignur le roy. Ly roy apela Rogier de Bele- 
healme, si li dona tote la counte de Salobure mout 
franchement, e si fust apellee counte palays. Rogier 
funda dehors la vylle de Salobure une abbeye de Seynt- 
Piere, e la feiFa mout richement; e tint le counte a 
tote sa vie. Si comenga un chastiel a Brugge, e un 
autre chastel comenga en Dynan ; mes yl ne les parfist 
poynt. Apres qe Roger fust devye, Robert, son fitz, 
avoit tote la countee de Salobure ; e Ernaud, son puysne 
fitz, avoit Penebrok. Ceux furent gentz trop demesu- 

Powis. The prince retreated, for he dared not await the 
king. The king was very wise, and thought that he would 
give the march lands to the most valiant knights of all his 
host, in order that they should defend the march from the 
prince to their profit and to the honour of their lord the 
king. The king called Roger de Belehealme, and gave him 
all the county of Shrewsbury very freely, and it was called 
a county palatine. Roger founded outside the town of 
Shrewsbury an abbey of St. Peter, and endowed it very 
richly; and he held the county all his life. He began a 
castle at Brugge, and another castle he began at Dy- 
nan ; but he did not finish them. After Roger was dead, 
Robert, his son, had all the county of Shrewsbury; and 
Ernald, his youngest son, had Pembroke. These were very 

B 2 


rees e trop culvers, e grantment mespristrent countre 
lur seignour le roy Henre, fitz Willam Bastard, frere 
roy Willam le Rous ; e parfirent le chastel de Brugge 
contre la defense le roy Henre ; dont le roy Henre les 
desheryta e fist exiler pur tons jours, et dona lur ter- 
res as ces chevalers. Le chastel de Dynan e tut le 
pays entour devers la ryvere de Corve, ou tut 1'onour, 
dona a monsire Joce, sun chevaler; e d'enapres retint 
le surnoun de Dynan, e fust apele par tut Joce de 
Dynan. Cely Joce parfist le chastiel qe Roger de Bele- 
healme en son temps avoit comence, e si fitst fort e 
vaylaunt chevaler. E si fust la ville bien longement 
apelle Dynan, qe or est apellee Ludelawe. Cesti Joce 
fist fere, desouth la ville de Dynan, un pount de pere 

licencious people and very wicked, and greatly misconducted 
themselves towards their lord king Henry, the son of 
William the Bastard and brother of king William Rufus ; 
and they completed the castle of Brugge in spite of king 
Henry's inhibition; for which king Henry disinherited 
them and condemned them to perpetual exile, and he gave 
their lands to his knights. The castle of Dynan, and all the 
country round towards the river of Corve, with all the 
honour, he gave to sir Joce, his knight ; who thenceforth 
retained the name of Dynan, and was called everywhere 
Joce de Dynan. This Joce completed the castle which 
Roger de Belehealme in his time had begun, and he was a 
strong and valiant knight. Now, the town was a very 
long time called Dynan, which is now called Ludlow. This 
Joce caused to be made, below the town of Dynan, a bridge 


e chaus, outre la ryvere de Temede, en le haut chemyn 
qe va parmy la marche e de Cestre desqe Brustut. 
Joce fist son chastiel de Dynan de tres baylles, e le 
envyrona de double fossee, une dedens e une dehors. 

Le roy Willam Bastard aprocha les mountz e les vals 
de Gales, si vist une ville mout large, close jadys de 
hautz murs, qe tote fust arse e gastee ; e pardesouth 
la ville, en une pleyne, fist tendre ces pavylons, e la 
demorreit, ce dit, cele nuyt. Lors enquist le roy de 
un Bretoun coment la ville avoit a noun e coment 
fust ensi gaste. " Sire," fet le Bretoun, tf je vus dirroy. 
Le chastiel fust jadys apellee chastiel Bran; mes ore 
est apelee la Vele Marche. Jadys vindrent en ceste pays 
Brutus, un chevaler mout vaylaunt, e Coryneus, de 

of stone and linie, over the river of Teme, into the high road 
which goes amid the march from Chester to Bristol. Joce 
made his castle of Dynan of three bails, and surrounded it 
with a double foss, one within and one without. 

When king William the Bastard approached the hills 
and valleys of Wales, he saw a very large town, formerly 
inclosed with high walls, which was all burnt and ruined ; 
and in a plain below the town he caused his tents to be raised, 
and there he said he would remain that night. Then the 
king inquired of a Briton what was the name of the town 
and how it came to be so ruined. "Sire", said the Briton, "I 
will tell you. The castle was formerly called Castle Bran ; 
but now it is called the Old March. Formerly there came 
into this country Brutus, a very valiant knight, and Corineus, 


qy Corncwayle ad uncore le noun, e plusours autres 
cstretz du lignage Troyene ; e mil n'y habita ces par- 
ties, estre trelede gentz, grantz geans, dount lur roy 
fust apelee Geomagog. Cyl oyerent de la venue Brutus, 
e se mistrent en la voye a 1'encountre; e al dreyn 
furent tous le geantz occys, estre Geomagog, qe fust 
mervilous grant. Coryneus le vaylant dist que volen- 
tersjuttreyt ou Geomagog, pur esprover la force Geo- 
magog. Le geant a la premere venue enbraca Cory- 
neus si estroitement qu'il debrusa ces trois costees. 
Coryneus se corona, si fery Geomagog del pee qu'il 
chay de un grant roche en la mer ; e si fust Geomagog 
neye. E un espirit del deble meyntenant entra le cors 
Geomagog, e vynt en ces parties, e defendy le pays 

from whom Cornwall still retains the name, and many 
others derived from the lineage of Troy; and none inhabited 
these parts except very foul people, great giants, whose 
king was called Geomagog. These heard of the arrival of 
Brutus, and set out to encounter him ; and at last all the 
giants were killed, except Geomagog, who was marvellously 
great. Corineus the valiant said that he would willingly 
wrestle with Geomagog, to try Geomagog's strength. The 
giant at the first onset embraced Corineus so tightly that he 
broke his three ribs. Corineus became angry, and struck 
Geomagog with the foot, that he fell from a great rock into 
the sea ; and Geomagog was drowned. And a spirit of the 
levil now entered the body of Geomagog, and came into 
these parts, ami defended the country long, that never 


longement, qe unqe Bretoun n'osa habiter. E longe- 
ment apres, le roy Bran fitz Donwal fist refere la 
cite, redresser les murs, e afermer les grantz fosses ; 
e fesoit Burgh e Grant Marche; e le deble vint de 
nuyt, e oost quanqe leynz fust ; e pus en sa unqe nul 
n'y habita." 

Le roy s'en mervyla mout; e Payn Peverel, le fier 
e hardy chevaler, cosyn le roy, ad tot escote, e dit 
qu'il asayereit cele nuyt la merveille. Payn Peverel 
se arma mout richement, e prist son escu lusant d'or ou 
une croys de asur endentee, e xv. chevalers, e autres 
sergauntz ; et s'en ala en le plus halt paloys, e se her- 
berga yleqe. E quant fust anuyetee, le temps devynt 
si lede, neir, obscur, e tiele tempeste de foudre e 

Briton dared to inhabit it. And long after, king Bran the 
son of Donwal caused the city to be rebuilt, repaired the 
walls, and strengthened the great fosses; and he made 
Burgh and Great March ; and the devil came by night, and 
took away everything that was therein ; since which time 
nobody has ever inhabited there." 

The king marvelled much at this story ; and Payn 
Peverel, the proud and courageous knight, the king's 
cousin, heard it all, and declared that that night he would 
assay the marvel. Payn Peverel armed himself very richly, 
and took his shield shining with gold with a cross of azure 
indented, and fifteen knights, and other attendants ; and 
went into the highest palace, and took up his lodging there. 
And when it was night, the weather became so foul, black, 


tonayre, qe tous iceux que la furent devyndrent si en- 
pourys qu'il ne purreint pur pour mover pie ne 
meyn, eynz cocherent a la terre come mortz. Payn le 
fer fust mout poury; mes s'en fia en Dieu, de qy yl 
porta le signe de la croys, e vist qe nul aye n'avereit 
si de Dieu noun. Se cocha a la terre, e ou bone de- 
vocioun pria Dieu e sa mere Marie que ly defendreynt 
cele nuyt del poer de deble. A peyne out fyny sa 
preere, vynt le malfee en semblance Geomagog ; e si 
porta un grant masue en sa mayn, e de sa bouche 
geta fu e fumee dont la ville fust tot enluminee. Payn 
avoit bon espeir en Dieu, e se seigna de la croys, e 
hardiement asayly le malfee. Le malfee hauQa sa mace, 

dark, and such a tempest of lightning and thunder, that all 
those who were there became so terrified that they could 
not for fear move foot or hand, but lay on the ground 
like dead men. The proud Payn was very much frightened ; 
but he put his trust in God, whose sign of the cross he 
carried with him, and saw that he should have no help but 
from God. He lay upon the ground, and with good devotion 
prayed God and his mother Mary that they would defend 
him that night from the power of the devil. Hardly had he 
finished his prayer, when the fiend came in the semblance 
of Geomagog ; and he carried a great club in his hand, and 
from his mouth cast fire and smoke with which the whole 
town was illuminated. Payn had good hope in God, and 
signed himself with the cross, and boldly attacked the fiend. 
The fiend raised his club, and would have struck Payn, but 


si vodra feryr Payn, mes yl guenchy le coup. Le deble, 
par vertu de la croys, fust tut enpoury e perdy force ; 
quar yl ne poeit adeser la croys. Payn le pursy wy, 
qu'il ly fery de 1'espee qu'il comer^a crier, et chey 
tut plat a terre, e se rendy mat. " Chevaler," fet-yl, 
" vus m'avez veneu, ne mie par force de vus meismes, 
eynz avez par vertue de la croys qe vus portez." " Dy 
moy," fet Payn, "vus, lede creature, quy vus estes 
e quey fetes en ceste ville ; je te conjur en le noun Dieu 
et de seynte croys." Le malfee comenga counter, de 
mot en autre, come le Bretoun out eynz dit ; e si dit 
qe, quant Geomagog fust mort, meintenaunt il rendy 
1'alme a Belzebub lur prince; e si entra le cors Geo- 
magog, e vynt en semblance de ly en ces parties, pur 

he avoided the blow. The devil, by virtue of the cross, was 
all struck with fear and lost his strength ; for he could not 
approach the cross. Payn pursued him, till he struck him 
with his sword that he began to cry out, and fell flat on the 
ground, and yielded himself vanquished. " Knight," said 
he, "you have conquered me, not by your own strength, but 
by virtue of the cross which you carry." " Tell me," said 
Payn, "you foul creature, who you are, and what you do in 
this town ; I conjure thee in the name of God and of the 
holy cross." The fiend began to relate, from word to word, 
as the Briton had said before, and told that, when Geomagog 
was dead, he immediately rendered his soul to Belzebub 
their prince; and he entered the body of Geomagog, and 
came in his semblance into these parts, to keep the great 


garder le grant tresor qe Geomagog aveit amasse e 
mys en une mesone qe yl avoit fet desouth la terre en 
cele ville. Payn ly demaunda quele creature yl fust ; 
e il ly dist qe jadys fust aungle, mes or est par son 
forfet espirit de deble. " Quel tresour," fet Payn, 
" avoit Geomagog?" " Buefs, vaches, cygnes, poons, 
chevals, e totes autres bestes, tregettes de fyn or ; e si 
avoit un tor d'or, qe parmy moy fust son devyn, e en 
ly fust tote sa creance ; e il ly dist ces aventures qe 
furent avenir. E deus foyth par an soleynt les geantz 
honorer lur dieu, ce fust le tor d'or, dont tant or est 
amassee q'a merveille. E pus avynt qe tote ceste 
countre fust apellee la Blaunche Launde ; e moy e mes 
compaignons enclosames la launde de haut mur e pro- 
treasure which Geomagog had collected and put in a house 
he had made underground in that town. Payn demanded 
of him what kind of creature he was ; and he said that he 
was formerly an angel, but now is by his forfeit a diabolical 
spirit. "What treasure", said Payn, "had Geomagog?" 
"Oxen, cows, swans, peacocks, horses, and all other animals, 
made of fine gold; and there was a golden bull, which 
through me was his prophet, and in him was all his belief; 
and he told him the events that were to come. And twice 
a-year the giants used to honour their god, the golden bull, 
whereby so much gold is collected that it is wonderful. And 
afterward it happened that all this country was called the 
White Laund ; and I and my companions enclosed the laund 
with a high wall and deep foss, so that there was no entrance 


founde fosse, yssi qe nul entre fust, si noun par my 
ceste ville qe pleyne fust de mavoys espiritz ; e en la 
lande feymes jostes e tornoyementz ; e plusours vindrent 
pur vere les merveilles, mes unqe nul n'eschapa. A 
taunt vynt un disciple Jhesu qe apele fust Augustyn, 
e par sa predicatioun nus toly plusors des nos, e bap- 
tiza gent, e fist une chapele en son noun ; dount grant 
encombrer nus avynt." " Ore me dirrez," fet Payn, " ou 
est le tresour dont avez dit?" " Vassal," fait-il, " ne 
paries mes de ce ; quar yl destyne as autres ; mes vus 
serrez seignour de tut cet honour, e ceux qe vendrount 
apres vus le tendrount ou grant estrif e guere. 

E de ta maunche issera 
Ly loup qe merveilles fra, 

except through this town which was full of evil spirits ; and 
in the laund we made jousts and tournaments ; and many 
came to see the marvels, but never one escaped. At length 
came a disciple of Jesus who was called Augustine, and by 
his preaching took many from us, and baptized people, and 
made a chapel in his name ; whereby great trouble happened 
to us." "Now you shall tell me," said Payn, "where is the 
treasure of which you have spoken V " Vassal," said he, 
" speak no more of that ; for it is destined for others ; but 
you shall be lord of all this honour, and those who shall 
come after you will hold it with great strife and war. 

And from thy sleeve shall issue 
The wolf who will do wonders, 


0,'avera les dentz aguz, 
E de tous serra conuz, 
E serra si fort e fer 
Qu'il enchacera le sengler 
Hors de la Blaunche Launde ; 
Tant avera vertue graunde. 
Ly leopard le loup sywera, 
E de sa cowe le manacera. 
Ly loup lerra boys e montz, 
En ewe meindra ou peschons, 
E tresvoera la mer, 
Environera cet ydle enter. 
Audreyn veyndra le leopart 
Par son engyn e par son art ; 

Who will have sharp teeth, 
And shall be known of all people, 
And shall be so strong and fierce 
That he will drive away the boar 
Out of the White Laund ; 
Such great virtue will he have. 
The leopard will follow the wolf, 
And with his tail will threaten him. 
The wolf will leave woods and mounts, 
Will remain in water with the fishes, 
And will pass over the sea, 
Will encircle this whole island. 
At last he will conquer the leopard 
By his cunning and by his art ; 


Pus en ceste lande vendra, 
En ewe son recet tendra." 

Qant Fespirit ou dit ce, s'en issit du corps ; e tiel 
puour avynt, dont Payn quida devyer. E quant passe 
fust, la nuyt enclarsyst e le temps enbely ; e les che- 
valers e les autres, qu'enpourys furent, s'enveylerent ; 
e mout s'en mervelerent de 1'aventure qe lur aveit 
avenu. Lendemeyn fust la chose mostre al roy e a tot 
1'ost. E le roy fist porter le cors Geomagog e gittre 
en un parfond put dehors la ville ; e fist garder la mace, 
e la mostra longement a plusours, pur la merveille 
q'ele fust si graunde. 

Le roy s'en vet de yleqe, e vent en une centre 

Then he will come into this laund, 
Will have his stronghold in the water." 

When the spirit had said this, he issued out of the body ; 
and there arose such a stink, that Payn thought he should 
have died through it. And when it was. past, the night 
became light, and the weather fair : and the knights and 
others, who were overcome with fear, recovered themselves ; 
and they marvelled much at the event which had happened 
to them. Next day the thing was shown to the king and to 
all the host. And the king caused the body of Geomagog 
to be carried and thrown into a deep pit outside the town ; 
and he caused the club to be preserved, and long showed it 
to many people on account of its marvellous magnitude. 

The king went thence, and came to a country joining to 


joygnant a la Blanche Launde, qe jadys fust a un 
Bretoun, Meredus fitz Beledyns; e delees si est un 
chastelet q'est apellee Arbre Oswald ; mes or est apelee 
Osewaldestre. Ly roy apela un chevaler, Aleyn fitz 
Flaeu, e ly dona le chastelet ou tut 1'onour qe apent; 
e de cely Aleyn vindrent tous les grantz seignurs 
d'Engletere qe ount le sournoun de Fitz Aleyn. Pus 
cesti Aleyn fist enlarger mout le chastel. 

Ly roys passa la ryvere de Salverne, e vist le pays 
entour bon e bel ; e apela un chevaler qe fust nee en 
Loreygne, en la cyte de Mees, qe mout fust renomee 
de force, de bealte, e de corteysie. E sa enseigne fust 
de un samyt vermayl, a deus poons d'or. E ly dona 
Alburburs, ou tot 1'onour q' apent. E issi dona ly roys 

the White Laund, which belonged formerly to a Briton, 
Meredus son of Beledins ; and beside it is a little castle which 
is called the Tree of Oswald ; but now it is called Osewald- 
estre (Oswestry). The king called a knight, Alan fitz 
Flaeu, and gave him the little castle with all the honour 
appertaining to it ; and from this Alan came all the great 
lords of England who have the surname of Fitz Alan. 
Subsequently, this Alan caused the castle to be much 

The king passed the river of Severn, and saw that the 
country around was good and fair ; and he called a knight 
who was born in Lorraine, in the city of Metz, who was 
greatly renowned for strength, beauty, and courtesy. 
And his banner was of a red samit, with two peacocks of 
gold. And he gave him Alberbury, with all the honour 


a ces meillour chevalers e plus afiez totes les terres, 
chaces, e fees, de Cestre desqe a Brustut. 

Ly roy apela Payn Peverel, e ly dona la Blaunche 
Launde, e foreste, guastyne, chaces, e tut le pays. E si 
aveit une mote environee de marreis e de ewe ; e la fist 
Payn un tour bel e fort ; e fust la mote apelee Wayburs ; 
e si court une ryvere delees qe de Payn Peverel tint 
le noun, e si est apelee Peverel ; mes pus fust apellee 
Pevereyes. Le roy, quant issi aveyt establie ces terres, 
retorna a Londres, et de Loundre a Normandie, e 
yleqe morust. Pus reigna en Engletere Willam le 
Rons, son fitz; e apres ly Henre, son puysne frere, 
qe pus detint Robert Courtheose, son eyne ffrere, en 
prisone tote sa vye; 1'encheson ne vus serra ore dyte. 

appertaining to it. And thus gave the king to his best and 
most trusty knights all the lands, chaces, and fees, from 
Chester to Bristol. 

The king called Payn Peverel, and gave him the White 
Laund, with forest, waste, chaces, and all the country. 
And there was a mound surrounded with marsh and water ; 
and there Payn made a fair and strong tower; and the 
mound was called Waybury ; and a river runs by it which 
took its name from Payn Peverel, and it was called Peverel ; 
but it was afterwards called Pevereyes. The king, when 
thus he had settled these lands, returned to London, and 
from London to Normandy, and there died. Then reigned 
in England William Rufus, his son ; and after him Henry, 
his younger brother, who subsequently detained Robert 


Puys avynt que Payn Peverel morust en son chastel 
en le Peeke ; e Willam Peverel, le fitz sa soere, regust 
e avoit tut 1'eritage Payn. Pus cely Willam par coup 
d'espee conquist tote la terre de Morelas tanqe a 1'ewe 
de Dee, Ellesmere, Maylour, e Nauhendon. Cesty 
Willam fist en la Blanche-Launde un tour, e le apela 
Blaunche-Tour; e la ville q'est entour est uncore 
apelee Blaunche-Ville, en Englois Whytyntone. En 
Ellesmere fist un autre tour, e sur 1'ewe de Keyroc 
un autre. Willam avoit deus beles neces, Eleyne, la 
eynsne, e Melette, la puysne; e si maria Eleyne al 
fitz Aleyn, e dona ou ly en mariage tote la terre de 
Morlas desqe Keyroc. Melette d'assez fust la plus 

Courthose, his elder brother, in prison all his life; the 
cause will not be told you on this occasion. 

It happened afterwards that Payn Peverel died in his 
castle in the Peak ; and William Peverel, his sister's son, 
received and had all the heritage of Payn. Subsequently, 
this William conquered by the sword all the land of Morlas, 
as far as the water of Dee, Ellesmere, Maylour, and Nau- 
hendon. This William made in the White Launde a tower, 
and called it White Tower ; and the town which is about it 
is still called White Town, in English Whittington. In 
Ellesmere he made another tower, and on the water of 
Keyroc another. William had two fair nieces, Elen, the 
elder, and Melette, the younger ; and he married Elen to 
the son of Alan, and gave with her in marriage all the land 
of Morlas, as far as Keyroc. Melette was the fairest, and 


bele, e pur sa bealte fust mout desirree ; mes nul nc 
ly vynt a gree. Willam la enresona, e pria qe ele se 
descovereit a ly, s'yl y avoit en la terre nul chevaler 
qe ele voleit prendre a baroun ; e si nul tel y fust, yl 
la eydereit a son poer. " Certes, sire," fet-ele, " yl n'y a 
chevaler en tot le mound qe je prendroy pur richesse 
e pur honour de terres; mes si je james nul averoy, 
yl serra bel, corteys, e bien apris, e le plus vaylant de 
son corps de tote la Cristienete. De la richesse ne fas- 
je force ; quar, je le pus bien dire, qe cely est riche qe 
ad qe son cuer desire." Willam, quant ce oy, surryst, 
e dist, " Bele nece, bien avez dit ; e je vus ayderay a 
mon poer de tel seignur purchacer. E si vus dorray 
Blanche-Tour e quanqe apent ou tut 1'onour; quar 

for her beauty was the most sought ; but nobody was 
found to please her. William expostulated with her, and 
begged her to open her mind to him, if there was in the 
world any knight whom she would take for husband ; and 
if there was no such one, he would aid her to his power. 
" Truly, sir," said she, " there is not a knight in the whole 
world that I would take for the sake of riches and for 
honour of lands ; but if I ever should have one, he shall be 
handsome, courteous, and accomplished, and the most valiant 
of his body in all Christendom. Of riches I make no ac- 
count; for, I may well say, he is rich who has what his 
heart desires." William, when he heard this, smiled, and 
said, " Fair niece, you have said well ; and I will aid you 
to my power to obtain such a lord. And I will give you 



femme que ad terre en fee serra d'assez plus desirree." 
Lors fist Willam une crie en meynte terre, en meynte 
cite, qe tous les chevalers de valours qe torneier veilent 
pur amurs, a la feste Seint Michel vienent a chastiel 
Peverel, q'est en la Peeke; e le chevaler qe mieux 
fra, e le tornoy venkera, avera 1' amour Melette de la 
Blaunche-Tour, e sire serra e seignour de Blanche- 
Ville e de tot 1'onour. Ceste criee fust tost depubliee 
par plusors terres. Guaryn de Meez, le vaylaunt, ne 
avoit femme ne enfant; mes manda a Johun, due de 
la Petite-Bretaigne, tot 1'afFere de ceste crie, et ly pria 
ayde e socours a cele bosoigne. L[e] due fust moult 
vaylant ; sy avoit dys fitz chevalers, les plus beals e 

White-Tower and its appurtenances, with all the honour; 
for woman who has land in fee will be so much the more 
sought after." Then "William made a proclamation in many 
a land, in many a city, that all the knights of worth who 
desired to tournay for love, let them come at the feast of 
St. Michael to castle Peverel, which is in the Peak ; and 
the knight who shall do best, and shall conquer the tourna- 
ment, shall have the love of Melette of the White-Tower, 
and shall be lord and seignour of White-Town and of all 
the honour. This proclamation was soon published through 
various lands. Gruarin de Metz, the valiant, had neither 
wife nor child ; but he sent to John duke of Little Britain 
(Britany) all the affair of this proclamation, and prayed 
him for aid and succour in this need. The duke was very 
valiant ; he had ten sons knights, the fairest and most 


plus vaylantz de corps qe furent en tote la Petite - 
Bretaygne; Roger le eyne, Howel, Audwyn, Urien, 
Thebaud, Bertrem, Amys, Gwychard, Gyrard, e Guy. 
Le due maunda ces x. fitz e c. chevalers ou eux, bien 
mountes e de totes apparillementz richement aprestez, 
a son cosyn Garyn de Mees ; e yl les res9ust a grant 
honour. Eneas, le fitz le roy d'Escoce, vint ou le conte 
de Morref, e les Brutz, Donbars, Umfrevilles, e deus 
c. chevalers. Iweyn, le prince de Gales, vint a deus 
c. escus ; le due de Borgoyne ou ui c . chevalers. Ydro- 
mor, fitz le rey de Galewey, vint ou c. e L. chevalers. 
Les chevalers d'Engletere sunt nonbrez a ni c . Guaryn 
de Mees e sa compaignie se herbigerent en tentes faitz 
en la foreste delees ou le tornoiement serroit, bien ves- 

valiant of body that were in all Little Britain ; Roger the 
eldest, Howel, Audoin, TJrien, Theobald, Bertram, Amis, 
Guichard, Gerard, and Guy. The duke sent his ten sons 
and a hundred knights with them, well mounted and with 
all accoutrements richly furnished, to his cousin Guarin de 
Metz; and he received them with great honour. Eneas, 
son of the king of Scotland, came with the earl of Murray, 
and the Bruces, Dunbars, Umfrevilles, and two hundred 
knights. Owen, prince of Wales, came with two hundred 
shields ; the duke of Burgundy with three hundred knights. 
Ydromor, son of the king of Galloway, came with a hundred 
and fifty knights. The knights of England were numbered 
at three hundred. Guarin de Metz and his company lodged 
in tents made in the forest near where the tournament 



tuz tot a volente de un samit vermayl ; e les destre[r]s 
furent covertz tot a la terre au fuer de guere. Guaryn 
meismes, pur estre desconuz des autres, avoyt un crest 
de or. Lors resonerent le[s] tabours, trompes, busynes, 
corns sarazynes, qe les valeyes rebonderent de le soun. 
Lors comenc.a le tornoy dur e fort. La poeit-um vere 
chevalers reverseez des destrers, e meynte dure coupe 
donee, e meynte colee. La damoisele e plusours dames 
furent monteez une tour, e virent la bele assemble de 
chevalers, e coment chescun se countynt. A descrivre 
les coupes e continances je n'ay cure ; mes Guaryn de 
Meez e sa compaignie furent ce jour le meylours, plus 
beals, e plus vaylauntz tenuz, e sur tous si fust Garyn 
le plus preyse en tous poyntz. Avynt qu'il avespry ; e 

should be, well clad all at will in red samit; and their 
steeds were covered down to the ground in manner of 
war. Guarin himself, in order to be unknown to the others, 
had a crest, or. Then resounded the tabors, trumpets, bu- 
synes, and saracen horns, till the valleys rebounded with the 
sound. Then began the tournament with vigour and force. 
There might one see knights overthrown from their steeds, 
and many a hard blow given, and many a stroke. The 
damsel and a number of ladies had ascended a tower, and 
saw the fair assemblage of knights, and how each bore him- 
self. To describe their blows and bearings I care not ; but 
Guarin de Metz and his company were this day held the 
best, handsomest, and most worthy, and above all was 
Guarin the most praised in all points. Evening now came 


le tornoy, pur la nuyt, ne purra outre durer. Les che- 
valers s'en alerent a lur ostels. Guaryn e sa compaign[i]e 
se tornerent privement a lur tentes en la foreste, e se 
desa[r]merent, e grant joie demenerent. E nul des 
autres grant seignours ne savoient ou yl devyndrent, 
ne qy yl furent, tant se countindrent coyement; mes 
de tous furent desconuz, Lendemeyn crie fust par tot 
une joste. Ataunt vynt Garyn a jostes vestu de foyle 
de ere tot vert hors de la foreste, come cely qe fust 
aventurous e tot desconu. Quant le due de Borgoyne 
1'ad veu, meyntenant ly corust sur, e ly fery grant 
coup de une lance. Guaryn le refery, qu'il tribucha de 
le chyval en my la place ; pus un autre, pus le tierce. 
Melette de la Blanche-Tour ly manda son gant, e pria 

on; and the tournament, on account of the night, could 
last no longer. The knights went away to their inns. 
Guarin and his companions turned off privately to their 
tents in the forest, and disarmed, and made great rejoicing. 
And none of the other lords knew what had become of 
them, nor who they were, they held themselves so shy; 
but they were unknown of all. Next day was proclaimed 
everywhere a joust. Then came Guarin to the jousts dressed 
with leaf of ere (?) all green out of the forest, as he who was 
adventurous and all unknown. When the duke of Bur- 
gundy had seen him, he immediately rushed upon him, and 
struck him a great blow with a spear. Guarin returned the 
blow, that he rolled over from his horse in the middle of 
the place; then another, then the third. Melette of the 


qu'il la defendist. Yl dit que si freit a son poer ; e si se 
repeira a la foreste, e se arma de ces armes vermails, 
e vint ou ces compaignons en le champ, e si venqui 
le tornoy, e purprist le champ pur totes les gentz qe 
la vyndrent; dount jugement se prist entre tons les 
grantz seignours e herrautz e disours qe Guaryn, qe 
fust le chevaler aventurous, a resoun avereit le pris 
del tornoy e Melette de la Blaunche-Tour. E yl, a grant 
joie, la prist, e la dammoysele ly. Si maunderent le 
evesque de la countre, e, veaunt touz, le ad espose. 
Willam Peverel tint une feste mout riche a les espo- 
sayles ; e, quant la feste fust departy, Guaryn prist sa 
mulier e sa compagnie, e s'en alerent a Blaunche-Ville, 
e demorent yleqe a grant joie quaraunte jours. Donqe 

White-Tower sent him her glove, and requested that he 
would defend her. He said that he would do it to his 
power ; and then repaired into the forest, and armed him- 
self with his red arms, and came with his companions in 
the field, and conquered the tournament, and held the field 
against all people who should come there; whereupon 
judgment was taken among all the great lords and heralds 
and umpires, that Guarin, who was the knight adventurous, 
should by right have the prize of the tournament and 
Melette of the White-Tower. And he, with great joy, took 
her, and she him. They sent for the bishop of the country, 
and, in sight of all, she married him. William Peverel held 
a very rich feast at the marriage ; and, when the feast was 
over, Guarin took his wife and his company, and went to 
White-Town, and remained there with great rejoicing 


repeyrerent les dys freres ou lur c. chevalers a Bre- 
taigne le Menure ; mes Gwy, le puysne frere, remist en 
Engletere, e conquist par coup d'espee meyntes beles 
terres, e si fust apelee Gwy le Estraunge, et de ly vin- 
drent tous les grantz seignurs de Engletere qe ount le 
sournoun de Estraunge. 

Owaryn de Meez tint longement a grant honour la 
seignurie de Blaunche - Vile ; mes Yervard, le fitz 
Yweyn, prince de Gales, ly fesoit grant damage, ocist 
ces gentz, destruit ces terres. Atant asistrent jour de 
bataylle, ou meynt prodhome perdy la vye. Al dreyn, 
torna la perte a Yervard ; quar yl perdy plusours de 
ces gentz, e guerpist le champ, e s'en fuist a deshonour. 
Lors mist Guaryn un chevaler mout fort e vaylant, 

forty days. Then the ten brothers with their hundred 
knights returned to Britain the Less ; but Guy, the youngest 
brother, remained in England, and conquered with the 
sword many fair lands, and he was called Guy the Estrange 
(the foreigner), and from him came all the great lords of 
England who have the surname of Estrange. 

Guarin. de Metz held long in great honour the lordship 
of White-Town ; but Yervard, the son of Owen, prince of 
Wales, did him great injury, killing his people and spoiling 
his lands. At last they made a day of battle, where many 
a good man lost his life. In the end, the loss turned to 
Yervard ; for he lost many of his people, and quitted the 
field, and fled away in dishonour. Then Guarin appointed 
a knight very strong and bold, Guy son of Candelou of 


Gwy le fitz Candelou de Porky ntone, a garder 1'onour 
de Blaunche-Ville e ces autres terres. 

Avynt qe la dame enseynta. Quant fust delyvres, 
al houre qe Dieu ordyna, apelerent 1'enfaunt Fouke. 
E quant 1' enfant fust de set anz, si le manderent a Joce 
de Dynan pur aprendre e noryr; quar Joce fust clie- 
valer de bone aprise. Joce le resQust a grant honour e 
grant cherte, le norry en ces chambres ou ces enfauntz ; 
quar yl avoit deus fyles, dont la puysne fust de meyme 
1'age qe Fouke fust, e si fust apelee Hawyse. La eyns- 
nee fust apelee Sibylle. A ycel temps grant descord 
e guere fust entre sire Joce de Dynan et sire Water 
de Lacy, qe donqe sojorna mout a Ewyas ; pur quel 
descord meint bon clievaler e meynt prodhome perdy 

Porkington, to guard the honour of White-Town and his 
other lands. 

The lady became with child. When she was delivered, 
at the time ordained by God, they called the child Fulke. 
And when the child was seven years old, they sent it to Joce 
de Dynan to teach and nourish ; for Joce was a knight of good 
accomplishment. Joce received him with great honour and 
great affection, and educated him in his chambers with his 
own children ; for he had two daughters, the younger of 
which was of the same age as Fulke, and was called Hawyse. 
The elder was called Sibylle. At this time there was great 
discord and war between sir Joce de Dynan and sir Walter 
de Lacy, who then dwelt much at Ewyas ; for which dis- 
cord many a good knight and many a brave man lost his 


la vye ; quar chescun corust sur autre, arderent lur ter- 
res, preierent e robberent lur gentz, e meinte autre 
damage fyrent. Quant Fouke fust de xviii. ans, moult 
parfust beals, fortz, e grantz. 

Un jour de este, sire Joce leva matin, si mounta un 
tour en my son chastiel, pur survere le pais ; e regarda 
vers la montaigne q'est apelee Whyteclyf, e vist les 
champs covertz de chevalers, esquiers, serjauntz, e 
vadletz, les uns armes sur lur destre[r]s, les uns a pie ; 
e oyt les chyvals hynnyr, e vist les healmes relusantz. 
Entre queux vist-yl la banere sire Water de Lacy, re- 
flambeaunt novel d'or ou un fes de goules par my. Lors 
escrie ces chevalers, e les comanda armer, e mounter 
lur destrers, e prendre lur arblasters e lur archers, 

life; for each invaded the other, burnt their lands, plun- 
dered and robbed their people, and did much other damage. 
When Fulke was eighteen years of age, he was very hand- 
some, strong, and large. 

One summer's day, sir Joce rose early in the morning, 
and ascended a tower in the middle of his castle, to survey 
the country ; and he looked towards the hill which is called 
Whitcliff, and saw the fields covered with knights, squires, 
sergeants, and valets, some armed on their steeds, some on 
foot; and he heard the horses neigh, and saw the helms 
glittering. Among whom he saw the banner of sir Walter 
de Lacy, blazing new with gold, with a fess of gules across. 
Then he called his knights, and ordered them to arm and 
mount their steeds, and take their arblasters and their 


e aler al pount de south la vile de Dynan, e garder le 
pount e le gue, qe nul n'y passast. Sire Water e sa 
gent quiderent passer seurement; mes les gentz sire 
Joce les unt russhe arere, e plusours d'ambepartz 
sunt naufrez e tuez. Atant vynt sire Joce e sa banere 
tote blaunche d' argent, a trois lyons d'asur passauntz, 
coronez d'or; ou ly v c ., qe chevalers, qe serjauntz, a 
chyval e a pee, estre les borgoys e lur serjantz qe bons 
furent. Donqe a grant force passa Joce le pount, e 
hurterent les ostz corps a cors. Joce fery Godebrand, 
qe porta la banere de Lacy, par my le cors de une 
launce. Donqe perdy le Lacy sa banere. Atant la gent 
s'entreferirent, e plusours sunt d'ambepartz occis. Mes 
al Lacy avynt le pys ; quar yl s'en vet fuaunt e des- 

archers, and go to the bridge below the town of Dynan, 
and defend the bridge and the ford that none passed it. 
Sir Walter and his people thought to pass safely ; but the 
people of sir Joce drove them back, and many on both 
sides were wounded and killed. At length came sir Joce 
and his banner all white with silver, with three lions 
passant, of azure, crowned with gold; with five hundred 
with him, knights and servants on horse and foot, besides 
the burgesses and their servants, who were good. Then 
with great force Joce passed the bridge, and the hosts 
encountered body to body. Joce struck Godebrand, who 
carried the banner of Lacy, through the body with a spear. 
Then the Lacy lost his banner. Then the people exchanged 
blows, and many on both sides were slain. But the Lacy 
had the worst ; for he went off flying and discomfited, and 


confitz, e prent sa voie delees la ryvere de Temede. 
La dame, ou ces filles e ces autre damiseles, fust mon- 
tee une tour; si unt vue tot 1'estour, e prient Dieu 
devoutement qu'il salve lur seignour e ces gentz de 
anuy e de encombrementz. Joce de Dynan conust 
Water de Lacy par ces armes, e le vist fuaunt tout 
soul ; quar yl aveit grant pour de perdre la vie. Si 
fert son destrer des esperouns, e passa mountz e vals, e 
en poy de oure ad ateynt le Lacy en une valee desonth 
le boys, vers Champ-Geneste, si ly comaunda retorner. 
Le Lacy nully ne vist si sire Joce noun, e se retorna 
mult hardiement. E s'entreferirent durement; quar 
nul n'out cure de autre esparnier. Grantz coupes e 
fortz s'entredonerent. Joce sembla qe la medle dura 
trop longement, hausa 1'espee de maltalent, si fery le 

took his way beside the river of Teme. The lady, with her 
daughters and her other damsels, had ascended a tower; 
whence they saw all the battle, and prayed God devoutly 
to save their lord and his people from hurt and defeat. 
Joce de Dynan knew Walter de Lacy by his arms, and saw 
him flying all alone; for he had great fear of losing his 
life. He struck his steed with his spurs, and passed hills and 
vales, and in a short time has overtaken the Lacy in a valley 
under the wood, towards Bromfield, and commanded him to 
turn. The Lacy saw nobody but Joce alone, and returned 
very boldly. And they fought fiercely ; for neither cared 
to spare the other. They exchanged great and heavy 
blows. It seemed to Joce that the encounter lasted 
too long, and he raised his sword with ire, and struck 


Lacy a 1'escu, qe tot le porfendy par my, e ledement 
le naufra par my le bras senestre. Joce 1'assaut egre- 
ment; e a poy qu'il ne Peust pris, quant sire Godard 
.de Bruyz e deus chevalers ou ly vindrent socoure le 
Lacy. Sire Godard e ces compaignons mout hardie- 
ment asaylent sire Joce de tote partz ; e yl se defent de 
eux come lyon. La dame e ces fyles en la tour veient 
lur seignur si demene q'a poyne pussent ester, crient, 
palment, e grant duel demeynent ; quar James ne qui- 
dent ver lur seignour en vie. Fouke le fitz Waryn 
fust remys en le chastel, quar yl ne fust que xviii. anz, 
si oy le cry en la tour, monta hastivement, si vist sa 
dame e tous les autres ploure[r]. Yl s'en ala a Hawyse, 
e demaunda quey ly fust e pur quoy fesoit si mourne 

the Lacy on the shield, that he clove it through the 
middle, and gave him an ugly wound on the left arm. 
Joce attacks him eagerly, and had nearly captured him, 
when sir Godard de Bruce and two knights with him came 
to succour the Lacy. Sir Godard and his companions very 
boldly assailed sir Joce on all sides, and he defended him- 
self against them like a lion. The lady and her daughters 
in the tower see their lord so pressed that he could hardly 
endure, and cry, faint, and make great lamentation ; for 
they never expected to see their lord alive. Fulk fitz 
Warine was left in the castle, for he was only eighteen 
years old, and he heard the cry in the tower, ascended in 
haste, and saw the lady and all the others crying. He went 
to Hawyse, and asked what ailed her, and why she made 


chere. " Tes-tey," fet-ele ; "poy resembles-tu ton pere 
q'est si hardy e si -fort, e vous estes coward, e tous 
jours serrez. Ne veiez-vus la mon seignour, qe grant- 
ment vus ad chery e suefment norry, est en peryl de 
mort pur defaute de ayde ? e vus, maveys, alez sus e 
jus seyntz, e ne donez ja garde." Le vadlet, pur la 
repreofe que ele avoit dyt, tot enrouy de yre e de mal- 
talent; e s'en vala meintenant de la tour, e trova en 
la sale un viel roynous haubert, e le vesty meyntenant 
a mieux qu'il savoit ; e prist une grose hasche denesche 
en sa mayn. Si vynt a une estable qe ert delees la 
posterne par ount home vet vers la ryvere, e trova 
la un somer. Yl mounta meyntenant le somer, e s'en 
issist par la posterne, e passa bien tost la ryvere, e vynt 

such sorrowful cheer. " Hold your tongue," cried she, 
" you resemble little your father who is so bold and strong, 
and you are coward, and always will be. See you not there 
my lord, who has cherished you and nursed you affec- 
tionately, is in peril of death for want of help 1 And you, 
wretch, go up and down unhurt, and care nothing for 
him." The valet, for the reproof she had given him, was all 
filled with anger and ire ; and at once went down from the 
tower, and found in the hall an old rusty hauberc, and put 
it on as well as he knew how ; and took a great Danish axe 
in his hand. He came to a stable which was near the 
postern by which they go towards the river, and found 
there a cart horse. He now mounted the cart horse, and 
went out by the postern, and soon passed the river, and 


al champ ou son seignur fust abatu de son destrer e 
en poynt de estre ocys, s'yl ne ust survenu. Fouke 
aveit un healme lede, e ly covry apoy les espaudles. 
E a sa premere venue fery Godard de Bruz, qe aveyt 
saysy son seignour, de sa hasche, e ly coupa 1'eschyne 
del dors en deus meytes, e remounta son seignour. 
Fouke se torna vers sire Andre de Preez, sy ly dona 
de sa hache en le healme de blanc asser, qe tut le 
purfendy desqe a dentz. Sire Ernalt de Lyls veit bien 
qu'il ne puet en nulle manere eschaper, quar yl fust 
sorement naufre, e se rendy a sire Joce. Le Lacy se 
defendy ; mes en poy de oure fust seysy. 

Ore est sire Water de Lacy pris e sire Ernalt de 
Lyls, e sunt menez outre la ryvere vers le chastel de 

came to the field where his lord was struck down from 
his steed and in point to be killed, if he had not ar- 
rived. Fulk had a foul helmet, which almost covered his 
shoulders. And at his first onset he struck Godard de 
Bruce, who had seized his lord, with his axe, and cut his 
back bone in two parts, and remounted his lord. Fulke 
turned towards sir Andrew de Preez, and gave him with 
his axe on his helm of white steel, that he split it all 
down to the teeth. Sir Arnald de Lys saw well that he 
could in no manner escape, for he was sorely wounded, and 
he surrendered to sir Joce. The Lacy defended himself; 
but he was soon taken. 

Now is sir Walter de Lacy taken and sir Arnald de Lys, 
and they are led over the river towards the castle of Dynan. 


Dynan. Donqe parla sire Joce : " Amys borgeis, mout 
estes fort e vaylant; e si vus ne ussez este, je usse este 
piega mortz. Je vus su mout tenuz, e serroy pur tous 
jours. Vus demorrez ou moy, e je ne vus faudrey 
james." Joce quida qu'il fust borgeis ; quar borgeys 
relement ont vestu les armes, e ceus qe 1'enfant avoit 
furent roynous e ledes. Donqe respount 1'enfant e dit : 
" Sire, je ne sui nul borgeys ; e ne me conussez poynt ? 
je su Fouke, vostre norry." " Beal fitz," fet-il, " be- 
neit seyt le temps que je vus unqe nory ! quar james 
son travayl ne perdra qe pur prodhome fra." Atant 
amenerent sire Water e sire Ernalt en une tour qe est 
apelee Pendovre ; e yleqe fist mediciner lur playes, e 
garder a grant honour. E la dame e ces fyles e lur 

Then spoke sir Joce : " Friend burgess, you are very strong 
and valiant ; and if it had not been for you, I should have 
been dead before this. I am much bound to you, and shall 
be always. You shall live with me, and I will never fail 
you." Joce thought he had been a burgess ; for burgesses 
really have put armour on, and those which the lad had 
were rusty and foul. Then the lad answered and said: 
" Sir, I am no burgess ; do you not know me 1 I am Fulke, 
your foster-child." " Fair son," said he, " blessed be the 
time, that ever I nourished you ! for a man will never lose 
his labour which he does for a brave man." Then they 
carried sir Walter and sir Arnald into a tower which is 
called Pendover; and there caused their wounds to be 
healed, and guarded them in great honour. And the lady 


damoyseles chescun jour conforterent c solacerent 
sire Water e sire Ernalt de Lyls. 

Sire Ernalt fust jeuene bachiler e bel, e grantment 
fust suppris de Tamur Marioun de la Bruere, une mout 
gentile damoisele, e si fust la mestre chaunbrere la 
dame del chastiel de Dynan. Sire Ernalt e la damoi- 
sele entreparlerent sovent; quar ele soleit chescun 
jour venir en la tour ou sa dame, de conforter sire 
Water de Lacy e sire Ernalt. Avynt qe sire Ernalt, 
quant veyt temps, aresona la damoysele, e dit qe ele 
fust la chose qu'il plus ama, e qe tant est suppris de 
s' amour qe repos ne puet avoir jour ne nuyt si ele ne 
se asente a ly ; quar ele ly puet socours fere de tous 
ces anuys. E, si ele le voleyt fere, yl la freit seurete 

and her daughters and their damsels every day comforted 
and solaced sir Walter and sir Arnald de Lys. 

Sir Arnald was a young bachelor and handsome, and he 
was greatly overtaken with the love of Marion of the Heath, 
a very pretty damsel, who was the chief chamber-maid of 
the lady of the castle of Dynan. Sir Arnald and the damsel 
often conversed together ; for she used to come every day 
into the tower with her lady, to comfort sir "Walter de Lacy 
and sir Arnald. It happened that sir Arnald, when he 
saw an opportunity, pleaded with the damsel, and told her 
that she was the thing which he loved most, and that he 
was so much overtaken with her love, that he could have 
no rest day or night unless she yield to him ; for she could 
give him relief from all his sorrows. And, if she would do 


a sa volente demeyne que james nulle autre n'amera, 
sy ly noun ; e, al plus tost qu'il serreit delyvres, yl la 
prendreit a femme. La dammoisele oy la bele pro- 
messe, e ly graunta fere sa volente en totes choses, 
e prist seurete de ly qu'il la tendreit covenaunt de sa 
promesse. La damoisele les promit qe ele les eydereit 
en tous poyntz privement, qu'il fussent delyvres de 
prisone. E prist towayles e lynceles, si porta en la 
tour, e les fist coutre ensemble, e par els avala sire 
Water e sire Ernalt de la tour, e lur pria qu'il ten- 
ysent lur lealte e la promesse qe eux ly aveynt promys. 
E yl la dysent qe lealment se contendreynt a ly sauntz 
fauser nul covenaunt, e la comanderent a Dieu. 

it, he would make her a surety at her own will that 
never would he love another but her; and, as soon as 
he should be set at liberty, he would take her for his 
wife. The damsel heard the fair promise, and yielded 
him to do his will in all things, and took surety of him 
that he would hold with her according to his promise. 
The damsel promised them that she would help them in all 
points secretly, that they might be delivered from prison. 
And she took towels and sheets, and carried them into the 
tower, and sewed them together, and by means of these she 
let down sir Walter and sir Arnald from the tower, and she 
prayed them to keep their faith and the promise which they 
had made her. And they told her that they would behave 
faithfully towards her, without breaking any covenant, and 
bid her adieu. 


Sire Water e sire Ernalt tot souls alerent lur che- 
myn a pee ; e, al aube de jour, vindrent a Ewyas, a le 
chastiel sire Water de Lacy. E quant les gentz virent 
lur seignur seyn e heyte revenuz, ne fet a demaunder 
si lees furent; quar yl le quiderent aver perdus pur 
tons jours. Joce de Dynan leva matin, e s'en ala a sa 
chapele dedenz son chastel, qe fust fet e dedie en 
1'onour de la Magdaleyne, dount le jour de la dedica- 
tion est le jour seynt Cyryac e LXX. jours de pardoun. 
Si oy le service Dieu ; e, quant avoit ce fait, mounta 
le plus halt tour q'est en la terce bayle del chastel, 
qe or est apele de plusours Mortemer. E pur cele re- 
soun ad le noun de Mortemer, qe uns des Mortemers 
fust leynz bone piece en garde. Joce survist le pays, 

Sir Walter and sir Arnald all alone went their way on 
foot ; and, at the dawn of day, came to Ewyas, to the castle 
of sir Walter de Lacy. And when his people saw their 
lord returned sound and well, it need not be asked if they 
were joyful ; for they thought they had lost him for ever. 
Joce de Dynan rose early, and went to his chapel within 
the castle, which was made and dedicated in honour of the 
Magdalene, the day of dedication of which is the day of St. 
Ciriac and seventy days of pardon. He heard the service 
of God; and, when he had done that, he mounted the 
highest tower in the third bail of the castle, which is now 
called by many Mortimer. And it has the name of Mortimer 
for this reason, that one of the Mortimers was in it a good 
while imprisoned. Joce surveyed the country, and saw 


rien ne vist si bien noun. Descendy de la tour, si fist 
corner a laver, e si maunda pur son prison, sire Water. 
Quar tant honur ly feseit qe nul jour ne vodra laver 
ne manger eynz ly. Les prisouns furent quis par tot. 
Ce fust nyent ; quar eschapez erent. Sire Joce ne fist 
nul semblant qu'il se repenty de lur aler, ne ja garde 
ne dona. 

Sire Water pensa qu'il se vengereit ou morreit ; 
maunda pur ces gentz d'Irlaunde, e prist souders 
chevalers e autres, issi qe fort estour e dur assaut 
fust entre sire Water e sire Joce. Les countes e barons 
d'Engletere virent la grant mortalite e damage qe fust 
avenu, e uncore entre eux de jour en jour avynt; 
pristrent un jour d' amour entre sire Water e Joce ; e 

nothing but what was well. He descended from the tower, 
and caused the horn to be sounded for washing, and sent for 
his prisoner sir Walter. For he honoured him so much that 
he would never wash or eat before he did the same. The 
prisoners were sought everywhere. It was in vain ; for they 
were escaped. Sir Joce made no semblance of being sorry 
for their going, and took no care of it. 

Sir Walter thought that he would revenge himself or die ; 
he sent for his people from Ireland, and took into his pay 
knights and others, so that there was strong contest and 
hard battle between sir Walter and sir Joce. The earls 
and barons of England saw the great mortality and hurt 
which had happened, and which still happened between 
them daily ; they arranged a love-day between sir Walter 

D 2 


yleoqe furent totes grevances redressez, e les parties 
acordeez e devant les grantz seignours furent entre- 

Joce de Dynan maunda ces lettres a Waryn de Mees 
e Melette sa bone dame, le piere* Fouke 1'enfaunt. 
Fouke fust auke brun, e pur ce fust pus apele de 
plusours Fouke le Brun. Waryn e Melette e grantz 
gentz vindrent al chastel de Dynan, e furent res9ti 
ileqe a grant honur e joie, e se enveiserent une symai- 
gne. Joce molt corteisement parla a Guarin, e ly dit : 
"Sire," fet-yl, "vus avez seynz un fitz que je vus ay 
nory. J'espoir qu'il serra prodhome e vaylant; e serra 
vostre heir, sy yl vus survist. E je ay deus files, qe 
sunt mes heyrs ; e, si vus pliist, vodrey-je qe nus fus- 

and sir Joce ; and there all grievances were redressed, and 
the parties were accorded, and embraced each other before 
the great lords. 

Joce de Dynan sent his letters to Guarin de Metz and 
Melette his good lady, the father of the youth Fulke. 
Fulke was of a dark complexion, and therefore he was called 
by many Fulke the Brown. Guarin and Melette with a great 
retinue came to the castle of Dynan, and were received 
there with great honour and joy, and remained there a 
week. Joce spoke very courteously to Guarin, and said to 
him : " Sir," said he, " you have here a son whom I have 
fostered for you. I trust that he will be a brave man and 
valiant ; and he will be your heir, if he survive you. And I 
have two daughters, who are my heirs ; and, if it please you, 


soms entrealiez par mariage, e donqe ne doteroms 
gueres mil grant seignur d'Engletere, qe nostre partie 
ne serreit meintenu a dreit e a resoun. E, si vus le 
volez graunter, je vueil qe Fouke le Brun espouse Ha- 
wyse, ma puysne file, e qu'il seit heir de la meyte de 
tote ma terre." Guaryn ly mercia molt de soun beal 
profre, e dit qu'il le grantereit tot a sa volente de- 
meyne. Lendemayn maunderent a Herford pur le 

evesque Robert de Le evesque vint, e a 

grant honour fist les esposailles. Joce tint grant feste 
xv. jours. Quant la feste fust departy, sire Joce e sire 
Guaryn e lur meynes s'en alerent vers Hertlande ; quar 
yleqe vodreint sojorner une piece. E Marion de la Bruere 
se feynist malade, e se cocha en son lyt, e dit qe si 

my wish is that we enter into alliance of marriage, and then 
we should hardly fear any great lord in England, that our 
party should not be maintained with right and reason. 
And, if you will agree to it, I will that Fulk the Brown 
marry Hawyse, my younger daughter, and he shall be heir 
to the moiety of all my land." Guarin thanked him much 
for his fair offer, and said that he would agree to all accord- 
ing to his own will. Next day they sent to Hereford for the 
bishop Robert de . . . The bishop came, and with great honour 
performed the marriage ceremony. Joce held great festivity 
during fifteen days. When the feast was ended, sir Joce and 
sir Guarin and their households all went towards Hertland ; 
for they wished to sojourn there a while. And Marion of 
the Heath feigned sickness, and took to her bed, and said 


malade fust qe ele ne se poeit mover, si noun a grant 
peyne. E demora al chastel de Dynan. Joce comanda 
qe ele fust guarde tot a talent. E, pur doute de le 
Lacy e autres gentz, soudea xxx. chevalers e LX. dis 
serjantz e vadletz, e les bayla son chastel a garder 
tanqe a son repeyr en le pays. Quant Joce fust passe, 
lendemein manda Marion son message a sire Ernalt de 
Lyls, e ly pria, pur la grant amiste qe entre eux fust, 
qu'il n'obliast les covenauntz qe entre eux sunt affer- 
mez, e qu'il viegne hastivement parler ou ly a le chas- 
tel de Dynan, quar le seignur e la dame e la force 
de lur meynage sunt vers Hertlande ; e qu'il vienge a 
meisme le lu ou dreyn s'en ala de le chastel. Quant 
sire Ernalt avoit oy le mandement sa amie, meynte- 

that she was so ill that she could not move except with 
great difficulty. And she remained at the castle of Dynan. 
Joce commanded that she should be carefully attended to. 
And, for fear of the Lacy and other people, he took into 
his pay thirty knights and seventy sergeants and valets, 
and delivered them his castle to keep until his return into 
the country. When Joce was gone, next day Marion sent 
a messenger to sir Arnald de Lys, and prayed him, for the 
great friendship that was between them, that he would not 
forget the covenants which were made between them, and 
that he come hastily to talk with her at the castle of 
Dynan, for the lord and the lady and the strength of their 
household are gone to Hertland, and that he come to the 
same place where last he escaped from the castle. When 
sir Arnald had heard the message of his mistress, he imme- 


nant remanda meisme le messager, e pria pur s'amur 
qe ele mesurast la hautesse de la ffenestre par ount yl 
issist dreyn de le chastel; e quele gentz e quantz e 
quele meisnie lur seignour avoit lesse derere ly, si 
remandast par le dit messager. La damoisele, qe mil 
suspecioun de tresoun n'aveit, prist un fyl de say, e le 
vala par my la fenestre desqe la terre, e tot 1'estre del 
chastiel maunda a sire Ernalt. Donqe remanda sire 
Ernalt a sa amie qe le quarte jour, avant houre de 
mie nuyt, serreit a ly a meisme la fenestre par ont yl 
passa; e la pria qe ele ly atendist yleqe. 

Sire Ernalt de Lyls fist fere une eschiele de quyr 
de meisme la longure de le fyl de saye qe s'amie ly 
maunda. Donqe s'en ala sire Ernalt a soun seignour, 

diately sent back the same messenger, and prayed that for 
his love she would measure the height of the window by 
which he last escaped out of the castle, and that she should 
send him back information by the said messenger what kind 
of people, and how many, and what household their lord 
had left behind him. The damsel, who had no suspicion of 
treason, took a silk cord, and let it down through the 
window to the ground, and sent information of all the con- 
dition of the castle to sir Arnald. Then sir Arnald sent 
back to his mistress that on the fourth day, before it struck 
midnight, he would be at the same window through which 
he passed ; and begged that she would wait for him there. 
Sir Arnald de Lys caused to be made a ladder of leather of 
the same length as the silk cord which his mistress had sent 
him. Then went sir Arnald to his lord, sir Walter de Lacy, 


sire Water de Lacy, e ly counta que Fouke, le fitz 
Waryn de Mees, avoit espose Hawyse, la fille sire Joce 
de Dynan, e qe sire Waryn e sire Joce aveyent lesse 
garnesture en le chastel de Dynan, e furent alez vers 
Hertlande pur quere souders e pur assembler yleqe 
lur gentz e pur auner host e pueple santz nombre. 
" E, quant tut Tost serra assemble, meyntenaunt ven- 
dront a Ewyas, e ardrount e prendront vos terres. E, 
si yl poent vostre corps prendre, vus serrez detrenche 
en menu pieces, e vous e les vos desherytez pur tous 
jours. E ce me mand[e] cele qe vus bien savez ; quar 
ele siet e ad oy la verite." Quant sire Water entendy la 
novele, devynt tut pal pur angoise, e dit : " Certes, je 
ne pus crere qe sire Joce me freit tiele deceyte, depus 

and told him how Fulk, the son of Guarin de Metz, had 
espoused Hawyse, the daughter of sir Joce de Dynan, and 
how sir Guarin and sir Joce had left provision in the castle 
of Dynan, and were gone to Hertland to seek soldiers, and 
to assemble there their men, and to collect a host and 
people without number. " And, when all the host shall be 
assembled, they will come at once to Ewyas, and will burn 
and take your lands. And if they can take your body, you 
will be cut in small pieces, and you and yours will be 
deprived of your inheritance for ever. She whom you know 
well has sent me this information ; for she knows and has 
heard the truth." When sir Walter heard this news, he 
became pale with vexation, and said : " Truly, I cannot 
believe that sir Joce would do me such a deceit, since we 


qe nus sumes acordeez, e, veantz plusours, entrebay- 
seez; e je harrey mout qe nos piers diseynt qe le 
acord serreit eiifreynt endreit de moy, e sire Joce est 
tenuz leal chevaler." " Sire," fet sire Ernalt, " vus 
estes mon seignur; je vus garny de vostre damage; 
quar je say la verite par cele qe ad oy le consayl. E ne 
ditez mie autre foyz qe je savoy vostre damage e ne le 
vus vodray garny r, ne qe je vus ay menty ma fey." 
Sire Water devynt molt pensyf, e ne savoit nul bon 
consayl sur cele bosoigne. Atant dit : " sire Ernalt, 
qei me loez-vus de fere ?" " Sire," fet-il, " creez 
mon consayl, si frez bien. Je irroy meismes, ou ma com- 
pagnie, si prendroy par engyn le chastiel de Dynan ; 
e quant sire Joce avera fayly de soun recet, il vus 

are accorded, and there are many witnesses to our having 
embraced each other ; and I was provoked much that our 
peers said the accord would be broken on my part, and sir 
Joce is held a loyal knight." "Sir," said sir Arnald, "you 
are my lord ; I warn you of your hurt ; for I know the 
truth through her who has heard the counsel. And tell 
me not another time that I knew of your hurt and would 
not warn you of it, or that I have belied my faith to you." 
Sir Walter became very thoughtful, and he knew no good 
counsel for this matter. At length he said : " Sir Arnald, 
what do you advise me to do ?" " Sir," said he, "trust my 
counsel, and you will do well. I will go myself, with my 
company, and I will take by cunning the castle of Dynan ; 
and when sir Joce shall have lost his stronghold, he will 


grevera le meynz e se retrerra de sa pensee ; e par 
tant poez estre venge de ly de le hounte qu'il nus ad 
so vent fait. E, sire, pensez qe, seit ce a droit on a tort, 
home se deit de son enymy venger." Sire Water del 
tot se mist en le consayl sire Ernalt, e quida qu'il ly 
aveit dit veir de quanqu'il avoit dit; mes yl menti 
come fans chevaler. 

Sire Ernald apparilla sa compaignie, qe grant fust ; 
quar yl avoit en sa compagnie, qe chevalers, esquiers, 
e serjauntz, plus qe myl. E vynt al chastiel de Dynan 
par nuy t ; e fist partie de sa compagnie demorer en le 
boys pres de Whyteclyf, e partie enbucher desouth le 
chastiel en les gardyns. La nuyt fust mout obscure ; 
quar yl ne furent aparu de gueyte ne de autre. Sire 

grieve you the less and will give up his design ; and so far 
you will be revenged of him for the disgrace which he has 
often inflicted upon us. And, sir, consider that, be it by 
right or by wrong, one ought to revenge oneself of his 
enemy." Sir Walter yielded himself entirely to the counsel 
of sir Arnald, and supposed that he had told him truth in 
what he had said ; but he lied like a false knight. 

Sir Arnald prepared his company, which was numerous ; 
for he had in his company, knights, squiers, and sergeants, 
more than a thousand. And he came to the castle of 
Dynan by night, and caused part of his company to remain 
in the wood, near Whitcliff, and part to lay in ambush 
below the castle, in the gardens. The night was very dark, 
so that they were not perceived by the watch, or by any 


Ernalt prist un esquier qe porta la eschiele de quyr, 
e s'en alerent a la fenestre ou Marion les attent. E 
quant ele les vist, unqe ne fust si lee ; si en vala jus 
une corde, e traist sus la eschiele de quyr, si la ferma 
a un kernel de le mur. E Ernalt monta bien e legere- 
ment la tour, e prist sa amye entre ces bras e la beysa; 
e fyrent grant joie, e s'en alerent en une autre cham- 
bre, e soperent, e pus alerent cochier, e si lesserent 
la eschiele pendre. L' esquier qe la porta ala por les 
chevalers e la grant compaignie qe furent enbuchez 
en le jardyn le seygnur e aylours, e les amena a Pes- 
chiele. E c. homes bien armes mounterent par 1'es- 
chiele de quyr, e s'en avalerent de la tour de Pendovre* 
e s'en alerent par le mur derere la chapele ; e troverent 

one else. Sir Arnald took a squier, who carried the ladder 
of leather, and went to the window where Marion was 
waiting for them. And when she saw them, she was never 
so joyful ; and she let down a cord, and drew up the ladder 
of leather, and fastened it to a battlement of the wall. 
And Arnald mounted easily and lightly the tower, and 
took his mistress between his arms and kissed her ; and they 
made great joy, and went thence into another chamber, and 
supped, and then went to bed, and left the ladder hanging. 
The esquier who carried it, went for the knights and the 
great company who were in ambush in the lord's garden 
and elsewhere, and brought them to the ladder. And a 
hundred men, well armed, mounted by means of the ladder 
of leather, and went down from the tower of Pendover, and 
went along the wall behind the chapel. And they found 


le geyte somoilant, quar yl devynt tut pesant contre 
la mort ; e ly pristrent meyntenant, e ly vodreynt aver 
ruee jus de son tour en la profonde fosse ; e yl cria 
mercy, e pria qu'il ly vodreynt soffryr sifler une note 
avaunt qu'il morust. E yl ly granterent; mes yl le fist 
pur ce qe les chevalers de leynz se devereynt garnyr. 
Mes ce fust tut pur nient. Tant come il sifla, tut le 
plus de les chevalers e serjauntz furent decoupees; 
brayerent e crierent en lur lytz, qe Dieus poeit aver 
pite. Mes les compaignons sire Ernalt furent santz 
piete ; quar quanqe leynz fust mistrent a lede mort, e 
meynte lyncele qe fust blanche a seyr tot fust enrouy 
de sang. Al dreyn ruerent le gueyte en la profonde 
fosse, e rompi le col. 

the watch sleeping, for he seemed to be heavy under the 
presentiment of death ; and they took him immediately, 
and would have thrown him down from his tower into the 
deep foss ; but he cried for mercy, and begged that they 
would suffer him to whistle one note before he died. And 
they granted it him ; but he did it in order that the 
knights within should be warned. But it was all in vain. 
While he whistled the greater part of the knights and 
sergeants were being cut to pieces ; and they screamed and 
cried in their beds that God might have pity. But the 
companions of sir Arnald were without pity ; for all who 
were therein they put to a foul death, and many a sheet 
which was white at even, was all reddened with blood. At 
last they threw the watch into the deep foss, and broke his 


Marion de la Bruere cocha deleez son amy sire Er- 
nalt, e rien savoit de la treson qe sire Ernalt avoit 
fet ; si oy grant noise en le chastiel, leva del lit e re- 
garda jus en le chastiel, oyt la noyse e le cry de 
naufrez, e vist chevalers armeez e les blanks healmes 
e haubercz; meyntenant apargust qe sire Ernalt ly 
avoit desgu e trahi, si comenga mout tendrement a 
ploure[r], e dyt pytousement : " Alas !" fet-ele, " qe 
unqe nasquy de mere ! quar, par mon forfet, ad mon 
seignur, sire Joce, qe suef me norry, perdu son chastel 
e sa bone gent; e, si je ne usse este, rien ne fust perdu. 
Alas ! qe je unqe cru cest chevaler ! quar, par son 
losenge, m'ad-yl desgu, e mon seygnur, de cuy plus 
me est." Marion tote ploraunte saka Fespeye sire 

Marion of the heath lay in bed beside her love, sir Arnald, 
and knew nothing of the treason which sir Arnald had per- 
petrated ; she heard a great noise in the castle, rose from 
the bed, and looked down into the castle, heard the noise 
and cry of the wounded, and saw knights in arms and 
white helms and haubercs. Now she perceived that sir 
Arnald had deceived and betrayed her, and began to weep 
very affectingly, and said piteously : " Alas ! " said she, 
" that ever I was born of mother ; for by my fault, my 
lord, sir Joce, who fostered me tenderly, has lost his castle 
and his good people ; and had I never been, nothing would 
have been lost. Alas ! that ever I believed this knight ; 
for by his flattery he has deceived me, and my lord, which 
is still more to me." Marion, all weeping, drew the sword 


Ernalt, e dit : " Sire chevaler, esveyllez-vus ; quar 
estrange compaignie avez amene en le chastiel mon 
seignur santz congie. Mes qe vus, sire, e vostre es- 
quier, fussez par moy herbygez, les autres, qe seyntz 
par vus sunt, ne furent mes. E, depus qe vus me 
avez desc,u, vus ne me poez a reson blamer, si je vus 
renke service apres vostre desert; mes james ne vus 
avanterez a nulle amye qe vus averez qe, par ma de- 
ceyte, avez conquis le chastiel de Dynan e le pays." 
Le chevaler se dresga en estant. Marion, de la espeye 
qe ele tynt trete en sa mayn, fery le chevaler par my 
le cors ; e si morust le chevaler meyntenant. Marion 
savoit bien qe, si ele fust prise, ele serreit lyvre a male 
mort, e ne savoit qe fere ; mes se lessa cheier a une 
fenestre devers Lyneye, si rompy le col. 

of sir Arnald, and said, " Sir knight, awake ; for you have 
brought strange company into the castle of my lord with- 
out leave. But if you, sir, and your esquier, were lodged 
by me, the others, who have come in through your means, 
were not. And, since you have deceived me, you cannot 
rightly blame me if I render you service according to your 
desert ; but you shall never boast to any mistress you shall 
have, that by my deceit you have gained the castle of 
Dynan and the country." The knight raised himself erect. 
Marion, with the sword which she held drawn in her hand, 
struck the knight through the body, and the knight died 
immediately. Marion knew well that if she were taken, 
she should be delivered to an evil death, and knew not 


Les chevalers qe furent en le chastel defermerent 
les portes, e s'en alerent en la vyle, e overyrent la 
porte de Dynan vers la ryvere, e fyrent totes lur gentz 
entrer. Si mistrent au fyn de chescune rywe en la 
vyle grant nombre de gentz, e fyrent esprendre la 
vile de fu; e en chescune rywe fyrent deus feus. 
Les borgeys e les serjauntz de la vyle, quant vyrent 
le feu, leverent des lytz, les uns nuz, les uns vestuz, 
e ne saveint qe fere, quar tut furent a poy forsenez. 
Les chevalers e les esquiers de Lacy les corurent sur, 
si les decouperent e ocistrent espessement. Les bor- 
gois ne se poeynt ne saveynt defendre ; quar tous 
qe trovez furent detrenchez ou ars en le feu. Les 

what to do ; so she let herself fall from a window towards 
Linney, and broke her neck. 

The knights who were in the castle unfastened the doors, 
and went into the town, and opened the gate of Dynan 
towards the river, and admitted all their people. They 
placed at the end of each street in the town a great number 
of people, and caused the town to be set on fire ; and in each 
street they made two fires. The burgesses and the ser- 
geants of the town, when they saw the fire, rose from their 
beds, some naked, others clothed, and knew not what to do, 
for they were almost mad. The knights and esquiers of 
Lacy fell upon them, and cut them to pieces and slew 
them in great numbers. The burgesses had no power or 
thought to defend themselves ; for all who were met with 
were cut to pieces or burnt in the fire. The damsels went 


damoiseles alerent par les veneles, vyrent lur pieres e 
lur freres gisir detrenchez par les rywes, s'engenule- 
rent, prierent mercy e pardon de vye. Ce fust pur 
nient, a ce qe 1'estoyre dyt ; homes, femmes, ou en- 
faun tz, jeovenes e grantz, tous furent ocys, ou de arme 
ou de feu. Ataunt vynt le jour; donqe manderent a 
lur seignur qu'il, ou tot son poer, venist al chastel de 
Dynan. E si fist-yl, e fist mettre sa banere sur le Pen- 
dovre en signe de victorie qu'il aveit conquis ce qu'il 
eyns fust en prison mys; mes la vile e quanqe fust 
leyns fust arse a neyrs charbouns. 

Quant la novele vynt a sire Joce e Guaryn de Meez, 
mout dolent, triste, e morne furent. Si manderent par 
tot a lur parentz, amys, e a lur gentz demeyne, issi 

along the lanes, saw their fathers and their brothers lie 
slaughtered in the streets, fell upon their knees, and im- 
plored mercy and pardon of their life. It was in vain, as 
the history says ; men, women, or children, young and 
great, all were slain, either by weapon or by fire. At last 
day came ; then they sent to their lord that he, with all his 
power, should come to the castle of Dynan. And so he did, 
and caused his banner to be raised on the Pendover in sign 
of victory that he had gained the spot in which he was 
formerly put in prison ; but the town with all that was in 
it was burnt to black charcoal. 

When the news came to sir Joce and Guarin de Metz, 
they were much grieved, sad, and sorrowful. They sent to 
all their kinsmen, friends, and to their own people, so that 


que yl aveient dedenz une moys set myl de bone gent 
bien apparillez. E vindrent a chastel Key, qu'est ferme 
desuz un tertre, une lywe de voye de Dynan. Mes 
chastel Key fust viel a ycel houre, e les portez furent 
porrys; quar nulle gent ne le aveyent habitee c. ans 
avaunt. Quar Key, le seneschal mon sire Arthur le 
roy, le avoit fet, e tot les pays a ly fust apendant, e 
le noun de ly uncore tient, quar la gent du pays le 
apelent Keyenhom. Joce e Garyn e Fouke le Brun, ou 
lur gent, lendemeyn vont vers le chastiel de Dynan, 
si le assailent mout egrement .de tote partz. Sire 
Water e ces chevalers defendent mout hardiement les 
kernels e les murs; e pus sire Water e ces Irreis s'en 
issirent de le chastel, e si rendirent fort estour a ceux 

they had within a month seven thousand men well pro- 
vided. And they came to castle Key, which is intrenched 
upon a knoll, a league's distance from. Dynan. But castle 
Key was old at that time, and its gates were decayed ; for 
no people had inhabited it for a hundred years past. For 
Key, the steward of my lord Arthur the king, had made it, 
and all the country belonged to him, and it still retains his 
name, for the people of the country call it Keyenhom 
(Gainham). Joce and Guarin and Fulk the Brown, with 
their people, go on the morrow towards the castle of Dynan, 
and attack it very fiercely from all sides. Sir Walter and 
his knights defend very courageously the crenels and the 
walls ; after which sir Walter and his Irishmen sallied 
from the castle, and made a fierce attack on those who 



qe dehors furent. Joce, Garyn, e Fouke les assaylent 
de totes partz e les occient espessement. Les Irreis gi- 
sent detrenchez par le pres e jardynz, issi qe a sire 
Water e les suens avynt le pys ; yl e sa gent se re- 
treyent e entrerent le chastiel e defendent les murs. 
E, si yl ussent demoree dehors, bientost ussent oy 
noveles mout dures. Sire Joce e sire Waryn se retor- 
nerent a lur herberges e se desarmerent ; e, quant 
urent mangee, s'entresolacerent. Lendemeyn aysay- 
lirent le chastel mout egrement de totes partz, mes ne 
le purreyent prendre. E quanqu'il purreyent encoun- 
trer dehors, les detrencherent. Ceste sege dura longe- 
ment. Pus apres avynt qe, par le assent de un roy 
d'Engleterre, furent les portes de le chastel, qe tre- 
blees erent, ars e espris par feu que fust illumee de 

were outside. Joce, Guarin, and Fulk, attack them on all 
sides, and slay them in great numbers. The Irish lay cut to 
pieces in the fields and gardens, so that sir Walter and his 
had the worst of it ; he and his people retreated and entered 
the castle and defended the walls. And, if they had re- 
mained outside, they would soon have heard very hard 
news. Sir Joce and sir Guarin returned to their lodgings 
and disarmed ; and, after they had eaten, they were merry 
together. On the morrow they attacked the castle very 
fiercely from all sides, but could not take it. And all they 
could find outside, they cut them to pieces. This siege 
lasted long. Subsequently it happened that, by the assent 
of a king of England, the gates of the castle, which were 
treble, were burnt and consumed by fire which was lighted 



bacons e de grece, e la tour sur la porte ars dedenz. 
E le halt tour q'est en le tierce bayl de chastel, qe fort 
e bien ovree fust qe home ne saveit a cele oure nul 
plus fort ne meylour, fust de grant partie abatu, e cele 
bayle a poy tote destruyt. 

Sire Waryn devynt malades, e prist congie de sire 
Joce, e s'en ala a Albrebures soulement ou un esquier, 
e morust. Fochun le Brun, quant son pere fust mort, 
vynt a Albrebures, e prist homage e fealte de totes les 
gentz qe tindrent de son pere ; e prist congie de Me- 
lette, sa mere, e Hawyse, sa femme, e revynt a sire 
Joce, e ly counta coment fust avenu de son pere ; 
dount Joce fust moult dolent de la novele. 

Sire Water fust dolent e irascu qu'il avoit perdu sa 

with bacons and grease, and the tower over the gate burnt 
in. And the high tower which is in the third bail of the 
castle, which was so strong and well built that no stronger 
or better tower was at that time known, was in great part 
beaten down, and that bail almost entirely destroyed. 

Sir Guarin fell ill, and took leave of sir Joce, and went to 
Alberbury only with one esquier, and died. Fulk the 
Brown, after his father's death, came to Alberbury, and took 
homage and fealty of all the people who held of his father ; 
and he took leave of Melette, his mother, and Hawise, his 
wife, and returned to sir Joce, and related to him what had 
happened to his father, at the news of which Joce was much 

Sir Walter was sorrowful and angry that he had lost his 



gent, e mout dota de estre mat e vencu, e se purpensa 
mout estroytement, si maunda une letre a Yervard 
Droyndoun, prince de Gales, come a son seignur, 
amy, e parent, e li counta par lettre qe sire Willam 
Peverel, qe tint Maylour e Ellesmere, est mortz; e 
dit qe ceus terres sunt de sa seignurie aportenauntz 
a Powys, e sire Willam les tint de le doun le rey 
d'Engletere a tort, e le roy les seysera en sa meyn. 
"E, si issi fait, il vus serra mout mal veysyn, quar il 
ne vus ayme poynt. E pur ce, sire, venez chalenger 
vostre droit; e, si vus plest, me vueil lez socours 
maunder, quar je su durement assegee en le chastel 
de Dynan." 

Yervard, quant oy avoit la novele, fist assembler 

people, and he feared much to be beaten and conquered, 
and after anxious consideration he sent a letter to Jervard 
Droyndoun, prince of Wales, as to his lord, friend, and kins- 
man, and informed him by letter that sir William Peverel, 
who held Maelor and Ellesmere, is dead ; and he said that 
those lands are of the lordship belonging to Powis, and sir 
William held them by gift of the king of England wrong- 
fully, and the king will seize them into his hand. " And, if 
he does so, he will be a very bad neighbour to you, for he 
does not love you. And therefore, sir, come and challenge 
your right ; and, if you please, send me succour, for I am 
closely besieged in the castle of Dynan." 

Jervard, when he heard the news, caused to assemble 


Galeys, Escoteys, Yrreys, plus qe vynt myl ; e se hasta 
vers la marche, ardy les vyles, robba le gentz, e tant 
avoit grant gent qe le pays ne les purra contre-ester. 
Joce fust cointe e apanjust la venue Yervard; e yl e 
sa gent e Fouke se armerent, e hardiement assaylerent 
Roger de Pouwys e Jonas, son frere, qe vyndrent en 
Pavant-garde de 1'ost Yervard, e ocistrent plusours 
de lur. Roger e Jonas ne poyent durer 1'estour, e se 
retrestrent arere. Ataunt vynt Yervard armee, dont 
les armes furent de or e de goules quartyle, e en 
chescun quarter un leopart; e assayly sire Joce e 
Fouke. E yl se defendyrent longement, e ocistrent 
plusours de lur gent; mes yl avoient tant gent que 
sire Joce ne purra meyntenir Festour, e se retorna 

Welsh, Scots, and Irish, more -than twenty thousand ; and 
he hastened towards the march, burnt the towns, plundered 
the people, and he had such a great host that the country 
could not withstand them. Joce was wary and got intel- 
ligence of the approach of Jervard ; and he and his people 
and Fulk armed, and boldly attacked Roger de Powis and 
Jonas his brother, who came with the vanguard of Jer- 
vard's host, and slew many of their men. Roger and Jonas 
were not able to withstand the attack, and retreated. At 
length came Jervard armed, and his arms were of or, quar- 
tered with gules, and in each quarter a leopard; and he 
assailed sir Joce and Fulk. And they defended themselves 
long, and slew many of their people ; but they (the Welsh) 
had so many people that sir Joce could not maintain the 


vers chastiel Key, a une lywe de Dynan. Mes molt ly 
mesavynt; quar yl avoit perduz plusours de sa gent. 
Yervard e ly Lacy, qe donqe lee fust, pursiwy sire 
Joce e Fouke, e les assistrent en le chastelet, e les 
assaylerent mout egrement. Joce, Fouke, e lur cheva- 
lers, treis jours, santz beyvre ou manger, defenderent 
lur feble e viel chastelet contre tut 1'ost. Al quart 
jour, dit sire Joce qe greyndre honour serreit pur eux 
de lessir le chastel e morir en le champ a honour, qe 
morir en le chastel de feym a desonour ; e meintenant 
vindrent en le champ, e ocistrent a lur premer avenue 
plus qe treis cent, qe chevalers, esquiers, e sergantz. 
Yervard Droyndon e ly Lacy e lur gent asaylerent 
sire Joce e sa gent, e yl se defendirent come Icons ; 

contest, and he fell back upon Castle Key, at a league from 
Dynan. But it was very disastrous to him ; for he had lost 
many of his people. Jervard and the Lacy, who was now 
glad, pursued sir Joce and Fulk, and besieged them in the 
little castle, and assailed them very fiercely. Joce, Fulk, 
and their knights, during three days, without drinking or 
eating, defended their weak and old little castle against all 
the host. On the fourth day, sir Joce said that it would be 
greater honour to leave the castle and die in the field with 
honour, than to die in the castle of hunger and with disho- 
nour ; and thereupon they went into the field and slew at 
their first encounter more than three hundred, knights, es- 
quiers, and sergeants. Jervard Droyndoun and the Lacy 
and their people assailed sir Joce and his people, and they 


mes tant gent les assistrent entre eux qu'il ne poeynt 
longement durer; quar le cheval sire Joce fust ocys, 
e yl meismes durement naufre ; e ces chevalers, les 
uns pris, les uns ocys. Donqe pristrent sire Joce e 
ces chevalers, e les manderent a prison a le chastel de 
Dynan, la ou il soleit estre seignur e mestre. Quant 
Fouke vyst prendre e amener sire Joce, a poy qu'il 
ne forsena de duel e de ire ; brocha le cheval de espe- 
rons, si fery un chevaler qe le mena d'une launce 
par mi le cors. Atant vynt Yweyn Keveylloke, un 
chevaler hardy e fer, e de une launce de freyne 
fery Fouke par my la voyde du corps, e la launce 
debrusa, e le tronchoun remist en le cors ; mes les 
entrayles ne furent rien entameez. Fouke se senty 

defended themselves like lions ; but so many people hemmed 
them in that they could not hold out long ; for the horse of 
sir Joce was killed, and he himself severely wounded ; and 
his knights, some taken, some slain. Then they took sir 
Joce and his knights, and sent them to prison to the castle 
of Dynan, there where he used to be lord and master. 
When Fulk saw sir Joce taken and led away, he went 
almost mad with grief and anger ; he struck his horse with 
the spurs, and struck a knight who led him through the 
body with a lance. Then came Owen Keveylloke, a bold 
and fierce knight, and with a lance of ash struck Fulk 
through the hollow of his body, and the lance broke, and 
the piece remained in his body ; but his entrails were not 
touched. Fulk felt himself terribly wounded, and could 


fierement blesse, e rien se poeit defendre; se mist a 
la fute, e leS autres 1'enchacerent deus lywes e plus, 
e, quant ne le poeint ateindre, se retornerent e seisirent 
totes les terres que Fouke aveyt. E pristrent Gyoun, 
le fitz Candelou de Porkyntone, qe le conestable Fouke 
esteit, e manderent a prison a Rothelan, e ces vij . fitz 
ou ly. 

Fouke grant duel fet pur son seignour; si ad en- 
tendu que le roy Henre est demoraunt a Gloucestre, e 
s'en va laundreit. Si come yl approcha la ville, si fust 
le roy apres soper alaunt sey dedure en un pree, si 
vist Fouke venant arme al chyval, e mout poinouse- 
ment chyvalchaunt ; quar yl ert feble, e son destrer las. 
" Atendoms," fetle roy, "ja orroms noveles." Fouke 

no longer defend himself; lie took to flight, and the others 
hunted him two leagues or more, and, not being able to 
catch him, they returned and seized all the lands which 
Fulk had. And they took Guy, the son of Candelou of 
Porkington, who was Fulk's constable, and sent him to 
prison at Rhuddlan, and his seven sons with him. 

Fulke was in great grief for his lord; and, as he had 
heard that king Edward was dwelling at Gloucester, 
he went thither direct. As he approached the town, 
the king was going after supper to divert himself in the 
meadow, and saw Fulk coming armed on horseback, and 
riding very painfully ; for he was weak, and his steed weary. 
" Let us wait," said the king, " we shall now hear news." 
Fulk came all on horse to the king, for he could not dis- 


vint tut a chyval al rey , quar yl ne poeit descendre, 
si counta le roy enterement tote la aventure. Le roy 
rouly les oyls mou[lt] ferement, e dit qu'il se vengereit 
de tels malfesours en son realme. E ly demanda qu'il 
fust e dount fust nee. Fouke counta le roy ou ert nee 
e de qele gent, e qu'il estoit le fitz Guaryn de Meez. 
" Beau fitz," fet le roy, " vus estes bien venuz a moy ; 
quar vus estes de mon sang, e je vus ayderoy." Le 
roy fist mediciner ces playes. E maunda pur Melette, 
sa mere, e Hawyse, sa femme, e lur autre meyne, si les 
retynt ou ly, e fesoit Hawise e Melette demorer en 
les chambres la reygne. Hawyse fust grosse enseinte, 
e quant terme vynt fust delyvres de enfaunt, e firent 
apeler 1' enfaunt Fouke. Cely en son temps fust mout 

mount, and told the king entirely the whole affair. The 
king rolled his eyes very fiercely, and said that he would 
revenge himself of such evil-doers in his realm. And he 
asked him who he was, and from whom descended. Fulk 
related to the king where he was born, and of what race, 
and that he was the son of Guarin de Metz. " Fair son," 
said the king, " you are welcome to me ; for you are of my 
blood, and I will help you." The king caused his wounds 
to be doctored. And he sent for Melette, his mother, and 
Hawise, his wife, and the rest of their household, and re- 
tained them with him, and caused Hawise and Melette to 
dwell in the queen's chambers. Hawise was advanced in 
pregnancy, and when her time came she was delivered of a 
child, and they caused the child to be named Fulk. He in 


renomee, e ce fust a bondreit; quarylfust sauntz pier 
de force, hardiesse, e bountee. 

Quant Fouke le Brun fust seyn de sa playe, le roy 
Henre maunda une letre a sire Water de Lacy, e co- 
manda sur vie e menbre ju'il ly delyverast Joce de 
Dynan, son chevaler, e ces chevalers, qu'il tient a tort 
en sa prisoun ; e, si yl ne le fet, yl les vendra quere 
meymes, e fra tiele justice qe tote Engletere em par- 
lera. Quant sire Water avoyt oy le maundement, molt 
fust empoury de le maundement ; si delyvera sire Joce 
e ces chevalers, e les vesty e monta honorablement, e 
les amena par la posterne devers la ryvere de Temede 
e outre le gwe de Temede e outre Whyteclyf, tan qu'il 
vyndrent en le haut chemyn ver Gloucestre. Quant 

his time was greatly renowned, and it was with good reason ; 
for he was peerless in strength, courage, and goodness. 

When Fulk the Brown was healed of his wound, king 
Henry sent a letter to sir Walter de Lacy, and commanded 
him on pain of life and member to deliver Joce de Dynan, 
his knight, and his knights, whom he holds wrongfully in his 
prison ; and, if he did not do it, he will come and seek them 
himself, and will do such justice that all England shall talk 
of it. When sir Walter heard the message, he was much 
frightened at it ; and he set sir Joce and his knights at 
liberty, and clothed and mounted them very honourably, 
and conducted them through a postern towards the river of 
Teme and beyond the ford of Teme and beyond Whitcliff, 
until they came to the high road to Gloucester. When sir 


sire Joce vint a Gloucestre, le roy le re9ust mout lee- 
ment, e ly promist ley e resoun. Joce sojorna ou le 
roy tant come ly plust, pus prist congie e s'en ala a 
Lambourne, e sojorna yleque ; e bien tost apres mo- 
rust, e fust enterree yleoqe. Dieus eit merci de la 
alme ! 

Le roy Henre apela Fouke, e ly fist conestable de tut 
son host ; e ly comanda tote la force de sa terre, e qu'il 
presist gent assez e qu'il alast en la marche, si en cha- 
sast Yervard Droyndon e son poer hors de marche. 
Issi fust Fouke fet mestre sur tons ; quar fort ert e 
coragous. Le rey remist a Gloucestre; quar yl fust 
malengous, e gueres ne poeyt traviler. Yervard avoit 
pris enterement tote la marche de Cestre desqe Wyr- 

Joce came to Gloucester, the king received him very gladly, 
and promised him law and right. Joce resided with the 
king as long as he pleased, and then took leave and went to 
Lambourne, and resided there ; and soon after died, and was 
interred there. God have mercy on his soul ! 

King Henry called Fulk, and made him constable of all 
his host ; and placed under his command all the force of his 
land, and that he should take people enough and go to the 
march, and drive thence Jervard Droyndoun and his power 
out of the march. Thus was Fulk made master over all ; 
for he was strong and courageous. The king remained at 
Gloucester; for he was ailing, and not in a condition for 
labour. Jervard had taken entirely the whole march from 
Chester to Worcester, and he had disinherited all the barons 


cestre, e si avoit/tous les barouns de la marche des- 
heritee. Sire Fouke, ou Tost le roy, meint fer assaut 
fist a Yervard ; e a une batayle delees Herford, a Wor- 
meslowe, ly fist fuyr e guerpyr le champ. Mes avant, 
d'ambepartz, furent plusours ocys. La guere fiere e 
dure dura entre sire Fouke e le prince quatre anz, a- 
tant qe a la requeste le roy de Fraunce fust pris un jour 
d'amur a Salobures entre le roy e Yervard le prince, e 
furent entre-beysez e acordeez. E le prince rendy a les 
barons de la marche totes les terres qu'il avoit de eux 
prises, e al roy rendy Ellesmere ; mes Blanche-Ville e 
Maylor ne vodra rendre pur nul or. " Fouke," fet le 
roy, " depus qe vus avez perdu Blaunche-Ville e Maylor, 
en lu de ce vus doyn-je Alleston e tut 1'onour qu'apent, 

of the march. Sir Fulk, with the king's host, gave many 
fierce assaults to Jervard ; and in a battle near Hereford, at 
Wormeslow, made him fly and quit the field. But before he 
fled, many were killed on both sides. Fierce and hard war 
between Fulk and the prince lasted four years, until at the 
request of the king of France a love-day was taken at 
Shrewsbury between the king and Jervard the prince, and 
they embraced mutually and came to an agreement. And 
the prince restored to the barons of the march all the lands 
which he had taken from them, and restored Ellesmere to 
the king; but for no gold would he render White-Town 
and Maelor. " Fulk," said the king, " since you have lost 
White-Town and Maelor, I give you instead Alleston and 
all the honour which belongs to it, to hold for ever." Fulk 


a tenir pcrdurablement." E Fouke le mercia cherement. 
Le roy Henre dona a Lewys, le fitz Yervard, enfant 
de vij. anz, Jonette, sa fyle; e en mariage lur dona 
Ellesmere e autres terres plusours, si mena Lewys a 
Loundres ou ly. Le prince Yervard, ou sa meyne, prist 
congie du roy, e s'en ala vers Gales ; si dona a Rogier 
de Powys Blaunche-Vile e Maylour. Rogier pus dona 
a Jonas, soun puysnee frere, Maylour. Ore avez oy 
coment sire Joce de Dynan, Sibille, la eyne, e Hawyse, 
le puisne, ces filles, furent desheritez de le chastel e 
1'onour de Dynan, qe sire Water de Lacy tient a tort ; 
mes pus fust la ville de Dynan reparillee e refetee, 
e si fust apellee Ludelowe. E si avez oy coment 
sire Fouke, le fitz Waryn de Meez, est desherytee 

thanked him dearly. King Henry gave to Lewis, the son 
of Jervard, a child of seven years, little Joan, his daughter ; 
and he gave them in marriage Ellesmere and many other 
lands, and carried Lewis with him to London. The prince 
Jervard, with his retinue, took leave of the king, and went 
to Wales; and he gave White- Town and Maelor to Roger 
de Powis. Roger subsequently gave Maelor to Jonas, his 
younger brother. Now you have heard how Joce de Dynan, 
his daughters Sibylle the elder and Hawise the younger, 
were disinherited of the castle and honour of Dynan, which 
sir Walter de Lacy holds wrongfully; but the town of 
Dynan was afterwards repaired and restored, and was called 
Ludlow. A.nd you have heard too how sir Fulke, the son of 
Guarin de Metz, is disinherited of White-Town and Mae- 


de Blanche- Ville e Maylour. Sibile, la suere eyne, 
fust pus mariee a Payn le fitz Johan, molt valiant 

Fouke e Hauwise tant aveient demore ou le roy, 
qu'il avoit synk fitz, Fouke, Willam, Phelip le Rous, 
Johan, e Alayn. Le roy Henre avoit quatre fitz, Henre, 
Richard Cuer-de-Lyon, Johan, e Gaufre, qe pus fust 
counte de Bretaygne le Menour. Henre fust coronee 
vivant son pere, mes il morust avant le piere ; e apres 
la mort le pere, Richard; e apres Richard, Johan, 
son frere, qe tote sa vie fust maveys et contrarious e 
envyous. Fouke le jeouene fust norry ou les iiij. fitz 
Henre le roy, e mout ame de tous, estre de Johan; 
quar yl soleit sovent medler ou Johan. Avint qe Johan 

lor. Sibylle, the elder sister, was subsequently married to 
Pain Fitz John, a very valiant knight. 

Fulk and Hawise dwelt so long with the king, that he 
had five sons, Fulk, William, Phillip the Red, John, and 
Alan. King Henry had four sons, Henry, Richard Coeur- 
de-Lion, John, and Jeffrey, who was afterwards earl of 
Lesser Britain. Henry was crowned during his father's 
life time, but he died before his father; and after the 
death of his father, Richard was crowned; and after 
Richard, John, his brother, who all his life was wicked 
and ill-grained and envious. Young Fulk was bred with 
the four sons of king Henry, and much beloved by them 
all, except John ; for he used often to quarrel with John. 
It happened that John and Fulk were sitting all alone in 


e Fouke tut souls sistrent en une chambre, juauntz a 
eschekes. Johan prist le eschelker, si fery Fouke grant 
coupe. Fouke se senti blesce, leva le piee, si fery 
Johan en my le pys, qe sa teste vola contre la pareye, 
qu'il devynt tut mat e se palmea. Fouke fust esbay ; 
mes lee fust qe nul fust en la chambre, si eux deus noun, 
si frota les oryles Johan, e revynt de palmesoun, e s'en 
ala al roy, son piere, e fist une grant pleynte. " Tes-tey, 
maveys," fet le roy ; " tous jours estes conteckaunt. Si 
Fouke nulle chose si bien noun vus fist, ce fust par 
vostre desert demeyne." E apela son mestre, e ly fist 
batre fynement e bien pur sa pleynte. Johan fust molt 
corocee a Fouke; quarunqe pus ne le poeitamer de cuer. 
Quant le roy Henre le pere fust mort, donqe regna 

a chamber, playing at chess. John took the chess-board, 
and struck Fulk a great blow. Fulk felt himself hurt, 
raised his foot, and struck John in the middle of the 
stomach, that his head flew against the wall, and he 
became all weak and fainted. Fulk was in consternation ; 
but he was glad that there was nobody in the chamber but 
they two, and he rubbed John's ears, who recovered from 
his fainting-fit, and went to the king, his father, and made 
a great complaint. " Hold your tongue, wretch," said the 
king, " you are always quarrelling. If Fulk did anything 
but good to you, it must have been by your own desert." 
And he called his master, and made him beat him finely and 
well for complaining. John was much enraged against Fulk ; 
so that he could never afterwards love him heartily. When 
king Henry, the father, died, then reigned king Richard, 


rey Richard, si avoit molt cher Fouke le Brun, le fitz 
Waryn, pur sa lealte ; e fist apeler (levant ly a Wyncestre 
le Y. fitz Fouke le Brun, Foket, Phelip le Rous, Wil- 
lam, Johan, e Aleyn, e lur cosyn, Baudwyn de Hodenet, 
e les adubba molt richement e les fist chevalers. Sire 
Fouke le jeouene e ces freres ou lur compagnie passe- 
rent la mer, pur quere pris e los ; e n'oierent parler de 
nul tornoy ne joustes qu'il ne vodra estre la. E tant 
fust preyse par tot qe la gent diseient communement 
que yl fust santz pier de force, bounte, e hardiesse; 
quar yl aveit tele grace qu'il ne vynt en nul estour 
qu'il ne fust tenuz e renomee pur le meylour. Avynt 
qe Fouke le Brun, lur piere, morust. Le rey Richard 
maunda ces lettres a sire Fouke qu'il venist en Engle- 

who loved dearly Fulk the Brown, fitz Warine, for his 
loyalty ; and he called before him at Winchester the five 
sons of Fulk the Brown, little Fulk, Phillip the Red, 
William, John, and Alan, and their cousin, Baldwin de 
Hodnet, and adubbed them very richly, and made them 
knights. The young sir Fulk and his brothers with their 
company passed the sea, to seek praise and renown ; and 
they heard talk of no tournament or jousts but he would be 
there. And he obtained so much reputation everywhere, 
that people said commonly that he was peerless in strength, 
goodness, and courage ; for he had such grace, that he came 
to no encounter in which he was not held and reputed for 
the victor. It happened that Fulk the Brown, their 
father, died. King Richard sent his letters to sir Fulke 


tere a receyvre ces terres, quar son piere fust mort. 
Fouke e ces freres furent mout dolent qe Fouke le 
Brun, lur bon pere, fut mort ; si revindrent a Londres 
a le roy Richard, qe mout fust lee de eux, si lur 
rendy totes les terres dont Fouke le Brun morust 
seysy. Le roy se apparilla vers la Terre-Seynte, e co- 
manda tote la marche a la garde sire Fouke. Le roy 
1'ama mout e chery pur sa lealte e pur la grant reno- 
mee qu'il aveit, e Fouke fust molt bien de le roy tote 
la vie le roy Richard. 

Apres cui mort, Johan, le frere le roy Richard, fust 
coronee roy d'Engletere. Donqe maunda a sire Fouke 
qu'il venist a ly parler e treter de diverse bosoignes 

that he should come into England and receive his lands, 
for his father was dead. Fulk and his brothers were much 
grieved that Fulk the Brown, their good father, was dead : 
and they returned to London to king Richard, who was 
very glad of them, and delivered to them all the lands of 
which Fulk the Brown died seized. The king made him- 
self ready towards the Holy Land, and he entrusted all the 
march to the keeping of sir Fulk. The king loved him 
much, and cherished him for his loyalty and for the great 
renown which he had, and Fulk was very well with the 
king all the life of king Richard. 

After whose death, John, the brother of king Richard, 
was crowned king of England. Then he sent to sir Fulk 
that he should come to him to talk and treat of divers 


qe tochoyent la marche, e dist qu'il irreit visiter la 
marche; e s'en ala al chastiel Baudwyn, qe ore est 
apelee Mountgomery. E quant Morys, le fitz Roger de 
Powys, seignur de Blaunche-Ville, apar^ust le roy 
Johan aprocher la marche, si manda au roy un destrer 
gras e beal e un girfaut tut blanc muer. Le roy le mercia 
mout de le present. Donqe vint Moryz parler al rey ; 
e le roy le pria demorer ou ly e estre de son consayl, 
e ly fist gardeyn de tote la marche. Quant Morys vist 
soun temps, si parla au roy e ly pria, si ly plust, 
qe yl ly velsist confermer par sa chartre Fonour de 
Blaunche-Ville, a ly e ces heyrs, come le roy Henre, 
soun pere, 1'avoyt eynz conferme a Roger de Powys, 
son pere. Le roy savoit bien qe sire Fouke avoit dreit 

matters touching the march, and said that he would go 
visit the march ; and he went to castle Baldwin, which is 
now called Montgomery. And when Moris, the son of 
Roger de Powis, lord of White -Town, knew that king John 
was on his way to the march, he sent the king a fat and 
fair steed, and a gerfalcon all white. The king thanked 
him much for his present. Then came Moris to talk with 
the king ; and the king requested him to dwell with him 
and be of his council, and made him keeper of all the march. 
When Moris saw his time, he spoke to the king, and prayed 
him, if he pleased, that he would confirm to him by charter 
the honour of White-Town, to him and his heirs, as king 
Henry, his father, had before confirmed it to Roger de 
Powis, his father. The king knew well that sir Fulk had 


a Blaunche-Ville, e se remenbra de le coupe qe Fouke 
ly avoyt eynz donee, e se pensa qu'il se vengereit par 
yleqe ; e granta qe quanqe Morys voleyt fere escrivre, 
yl le enselereyt. E, a ce fere, Morys ly promist c. 
livrez d' argent. 

Yl y avoit bien pres un chevaler qe tut aveit oy qe 
le roy e Morys aveyent parle, si vynt hastivement a 
sire Fouke, e ly counta qe le roy confermereit par sa 
chartre a syre Morys les terres a queux yl avoit dreyt. 
Fouke e ces quatre freres vindrent devant le roy, e 
prierent qu'il puissent aver la commune ley e les terres 
a queux yl aveyent droit e resoun, come le heritage 
Fouke; e prierent qe le roy velsist receyvre de lur 
c. lyvres, a tieles que yl lur velsist graunter le award 

right to White Town, and he called to mind the blow which 
Fulk had formerly given him, and thought that he would now 
be avenged ; and he granted that whatever Moris would put 
in writing, he would seal it to him. And, for doing this, 
Moris promised him a hundred pounds of silver. 

There was close by a knight, who had heard all the con- 
versation between the king and Moris; and he went in 
haste to sir Fulk, and told him that the king was about to 
confirm by his charter to sir Moris the lands to which he 
had right. Fulk and his four brothers came before the 
king, and prayed that they might have the common law 
and the lands to which they had claim and right, as the in- 
heritance of Fulk ; and they prayed that the king would 
receive from them a hundred pounds, on condition that he 

F 2 


de sa court de gayn e de perte. Le roy lur dist qe ce 
qu'il avoit grantee a sire Morys, yl le tendreit, quy 
qe se corocereit ou qy noun. Atant parla sire Morys 
a sire Fouke, e dit : " Sire chevaler, molt estes fol, qe 
vus chalengez mes terres. Si vus dites qe vus avez 
dreit a Blaunche-Ville, vus y mentez; e, s'il ne fust 
de vaunt le roy, je le proverey suz vostre corps." 
Sire Willam, le frere Fouke, sauntz plus dyre, sayly 
avaunt, sy fery de le poyn en my le vys sire Morys, 
qe tut devynt senglant. Chevalers s'entre-alerent, qe 
plus damage ne fut fait. Donqe dit sire Fouke al roy : 
" Sire roy, vus estes mon lige-seignour, e a vus fu-je 
lie par fealte, tant come je fu en vostre service e tan 
come je tienke terres de vus; e vus me dussez meyn- 

should grant them the award of his court of gain and loss. 
The king told them that what he had granted to sir Moris 
he would hold to it, whoever might be offended, or who not. 
At length sir Moris spoke to sir Fulk, and said : " Sir 
knight, you are a great fool to challenge my lands. If you 
say that you have right to White-Town, you lie ; and, if 
we were not in the king's presence, I would prove it on 
your body." Sir William, Fulk's brother, without a word 
more, sprang forwards, and struck sir Moris with his fist in 
the middle of his face, that it became all bloody. Knights 
interfered, that no more hurt was done, Then said sir 
Fulk to the king ; " Sir king, you are my liege lord, and 
to you was I bound by fealty, as long as I was in your 
service, and as long as I held lands of you ; and you ought 


tenir en resoun, e vus me faylez de resoun e commun 
ley; e unqe ne fust bon rey qe deneya a ces franke 
tenauntz ley en sa court : pur quoi je vus renke vos 
homages." E a cele parole s'en parti de la court, e 
vjTit a son hostel. 

Fouke e ces freres se armerent meyntenant, e Bau- 
dwyn de Hodenet ensement ; e quant furent passez une 
demie-luwe de la cite, vindrent apres eux xv. cheva- 
lers bien montez e armes, les plus fortz e valyantz de 
tote la meyne le roy, e les comaunderent retorner, e 
diseyent qu'il aveyent promis al roy lur testes. Sire 
Fouke retorna, e dit : " Beau sires, molt fustez fols 
quant vus promistes a doner ce qe vus ne poez aver." 
Atant s'entreferirent de lances e de gleyves, issint 

to maintain me in right, and you fail me in right and 
common law ; and never was he a good king who denied 
his frank tenants law in his courts ; wherefore I return you 
your homages." And with this word he departed from the 
court, and went to his hostel. 

Fulk and his brothers armed immediately, and Baldwin 
de Hodnet likewise; and when they were gone half a 
league from the city, there came after them fifteen knights 
well mounted and armed, the strongest and most valiant of 
all the king's household, and commanded them to turn 
back, and said that they had promised the king their heads. 
Sir Fulk turned back, and said : " Fair sirs, you were 
great fools to give what you cannot have." Then they en- 
countered with lances and swords, so that four of the most 


qe quatre de plus vaylantz chevalers le roy meinte- 
nant furent ocis, e tous les autres naufrez au poynt 
de mort, estre un qe vist le peryl e se mist a la fute. 
Vynt a la cite ; le roy ly demaunda si Guaryn fust pris. 
" Nanil," fet-yl, " ne rien malmys; yl e tous ces 
compaignons sunt aleez ; e nus fumes tous ocys, estre 
moy, qe a grant peyne su eschapez." Fet le roy : 
" Ou est Gyrart de Fraunce, Pieres de Avynoun, e 
sire Amys le Marchys ?" " Sire, ocys." Atant 
vindrent x. chevalers tut a pee, quar sire Fouke meyne 
les destrers. Les uns des chevalers aveyent perdu le 
nees, les uns le menton ; e tut furent defolees. Le roy 
jura grant serement qu'il se vengereit de eux e de tote 
lur lignage. 

valiant of the king's knights were killed outright, and all 
the others wounded almost to death, except one, who saw 
the danger and took to flight. He came to the city ; the 
king asked him if Warine were taken. " No," said he, 
" nor nothing hurt ; he and all his companions are gone ; 
and we were all slain, except me, who with great difficulty 
have escaped." Said the king : " Where is Gerard de 
France, Piers d' Avignon, and sir Amis the Marquis V 
" Sire, slain." At length came ten knights all on foot, for 
sir Fulk carried off their steeds. Some of the knights had 
lost their noses, others their chins ; and they were all ill- 
treated. The king swore a great oath that he would be re- 
venged of them and of all their lineage. 

Fulk came to Alberbury, and related to dame Hawise 


Fouke vynt a Alberburs, e conta a dame Hawyse sa 
mere coment aveyent erre a Wyncestre. Fouke prist 
grant aver de sa mere, e s'en ala, ly e ces freres, a ces 
cosyns, en Bretaygne le Menur, e sojorna tant come ly 
plust. Le rey Johan seysy en sa meyn totes les terres 
qe Fouke aveit en Engleterre, e fist grant damage a 
touz les suens. 

Fouke e ces quatre freres, Audolf de Bracy, son 
cosyn, e Baudwyn de Hodenet, son cosyn, pristrent 
congie de lur amys e cosyns de Bretaygne le Menur, 
e vindrent en Engletere. Les jours se reposerent en 
boschages e en mores, e les nuytz errerent e travile- 
rent; quar yl n'oserent attendre le roy, quar yl ne 
aveyent poer contre ly. Atant vyndrent a Huggeford, 

his mother how they had fared at Winchester. Fulk took 
great treasure from his mother, and went, he and his 
brothers, and their cousins, into Lesser Britain, and so- 
journed there as long as they pleased. King John seized 
into his hand all the lands Fulk had in England, and did 
great damage to all his friends. 

Fulk and his four brothers, Aldulf de Bracy, his cousin, 
and Baldwin de Hodnet, his cousin, took leave of their 
friends and cousins in Britain the Less, and came into Eng- 
land. By day they reposed themselves in woods and in 
moors, and by night they wandered and laboured ; for they 
dared not await the king, as they had not power to resist 
him. At last they came to Huggeford, to sir Walter de 


a mon sire Water de Huggeford, qe avoit esposee dame 
Vyleyne, file Warin de Meez ; mes son dreit noun fust 
Emelyne, e fust la aunte sire Fouke. Pus Fouke s'en 
va vers Alberburs ; e quant vynt ileqe, la gent du pays 
dient qe sa mere est enterree, pur qy Fouke fet grant 
duel, e prie mut pitousement pur sa alme. 

Sire Fouke e sa gent cele nuyt vont en une foreste 
q'est apellee Babbyng, qe esta delees Blaunche-Ville, 
pur espier Morys le fitz Rogier. Ataunt vint un 
vadlet de la meyne Morys, si les apar^ust, e s'en revet 
arere, e counta Morys. ce qu'il avoit veu. Morys se 
arma mout richement, e prent le vert escu a deus sen- 
glers d'or batu; d' argent fust la bordure, ou flours de 
glys d'asure. E si avoit en sa compagnie les nuef fitz 

Huggeford, who had married dame Vileine, daughter of 
Guarin de Metz ; but her right name was Emeline, and she 
was the aunt of sir Fulk. Afterwards Fulk went his way 
towards Alberbury ; and when he came there, the people of 
the country told him that his mother was buried, for which 
Fulk made great grief, and prayed very piteously for 
her soul. 

Sir Fulk and his men that night go into a forest which 
is called Babbing, which is near White- Town, to spy Moris 
Fitz Roger. At length there came a valet of Moris's house- 
hold, who perceived them, and went back, and related to 
Moris what he had seen. Moris armed himself very richly, 
and took his green shield, with two boars of beaten gold ; 
the bordure was of argent, with fleurs-de-lis of azure. And 


Guy de la Montaigne e les treys fitz Aaron de Cler- 
fountaygne, issint qe xxx. y aveyent bien mounteez 
e v c . de gent a pee. Quant Fouke Morys vist, hastive- 
ment de la foreste issist. Entre eux fust comence dur 
estour, e yleqe fust Morys naufre par my 1'espaudle, 
e plusours chevalers e gentz a pie occis furent. E, au 
dreyn Morys s'enfui vers son chastel, e Fouke le 
parsywy, si li quida feryr en fuaunt en le healme; 
mes le coupe descendy sur le cropoun del destrer. 
Atant vint Morgan le fitz Aaron, si trayst de le 
chastel, e fery Fouke par mi le jaunbe de un quarel. 
Fouke fust molt dolent qe yl ne se poeit venger a sa 
volente de sire Morys, e de sa playe en le jaunbe 
ne dona ja garde. Sire Morys fist sa pleynte al roy 

he had in his company the nine sons of Guy of the Moun- 
tain and the three sons of Aaron de Clairfontaine, so that 
there were thirty well mounted and five hundred footmen. 
When Fulk saw Moris he issued in haste from the forest. 
There was begun between them a hard contest, and there 
was Moris wounded through the shoulder, and many knights 
and footmen were killed. And at last Moris fled towards 
his castle, and Fulk pursued him, and thought to have 
struck him on the helm as he fled ; but the blow fell on 
the crupper of his steed. At length came Morgan Fitz 
Aaron, and shot from the castle, and struck Fulk through 
the leg with an arrow. Fulk was much grieved that he 
could not avenge himself as he would on sir Moris, and paid 
no attention to the wound in his leg. Sir Moris made his 


qe sire Fouke fust revenuz en Engletere e ly avoit 
naufre par my le espaudle. Le roy devynt si coroce 
qe a inerveyle; e ordina c. chevalers ou lur meynie 
d'aler par tot Engletere, d'enquere e prendre Fouke e 
ly rendre al roy vyf ou mort. E si averount totes lur 
costages de[l] roy; e s'il le puissent prendre, le roy 
les dorreit terres e riche feez. -Les chevalers vont par 
tot Engletere quere sire Fouke ; mes la ou yl entendy- 
rent qe sire Fouke fust, la ne vodreient aler a nul fuer ; 
quar yl ly doterent a demesure, les uns pur amour 
qu'il aveyent a ly, les autres pur doute de sa force e 
de sa noble chevalerie, qe damage ne mort lur avensist 
par sa force e sa hardiesse. 

Sire Fouke e sa compagnie vindrent a la foreste de 

complaint to the king that sir Fulk was returned into 
England and had wounded him through the shoulder. The 
king became so incensed that it was wonderful ; and he ap- 
pointed a hundred knights with their company to go through 
all England, to seek and take Fulk and deliver him to the 
king alive or dead. And they shall have all their costs 
from the king ; and if they could take him, the king would 
give them lands and rich fees. The knights go through all 
England to seek sir Fulk ; but then when they heard that 
sir Fulk was there, they would not go for any king; for 
they feared him excessively, some for love they had for 
him, others for fear of his strength and of his noble knight- 
hood, lest damage or death might happen to them by his 
strength and boldness. 

Sir Fulk and his company came to the forest of Bra- 


Bradene; e demorerent yleqe privement, quar aper- 
tement n'oserent pur ly roy. Donqe vindrent de la 
outre x. borgeys marchauntz, q'aveyent de les deners 
le roy d'Engleterre les plus riches draps, pelures, es- 
peces, e gyans, pur le corps le roy e la reygne d'En- 
gletere achatez; si I'amenerent par desouth la foreste 
vers le roy, e xxiiij. serjauntz armees sywyrent pur 
garder le tresour le roy. Quant Fouke apargust les 
marchauntz, si apela Johan son frere, e li dit qu'il 
alast parler ou cele gent e qu'il encerchast de quele 
terre sunt. Johan fery le destrer de esperouns, si vint 
a les marchauntz, e demanda quele gent fuissent e de 
quele terre. Un vaunt-parlour orgulous e fer sayly 
avant, e demanda quey yl avoit a fere d'enquere quele 

dene ; and they dwelt there secretly, for they dared not do 
it openly on account of the king. Then came from abroad 
ten burgher merchants, who had bought with the money of 
the king of England the richest cloths, furs, spices, and 
gloves, for the body of the king and the queen of England ; 
and they were carrying them under the forest towards the 
king, and thirty-four sergeants armed followed to guard the 
king's treasure. When Fulk perceived the merchants, he 
called his brother John, and told him to go and talk with 
those people and inquire of what land they were. John 
struck his steed with his spurs, and came to the merchants, 
and demanded what folks, they were and from what land. A 
fore-speaker proud and fierce sprang forward, and de- 
manded what business it was of his to inquire what folk 


gent y fussent. Johan lur demanda en amour venyr 
parler ou son seigmir en la foreste, ou si noun il 
vendreynt maugre lur. Atant sayly avant un serjant, 
si fery Johan de un espee grant coupe. Johan le 
refery en la teste, qu'il chay a terre palmee. Donqe 
vynt sire Fouke e sa compagnie, e assaylerent les 
marchantz; e yl se defendyrent mout vigerousement. 
Audreyn se rendirent, quar force lur fist ce fere. 
Fouke les mena en la foreste, e yl ly conterent qe 
marchantz le roy erent; e quant Fouke ce entendy, 
mout fu lee. E lur dist: " Sire marchantz, si vus 
perdisez cest avoyr, sur qy tornereit la pierte? dite- 
moi le veyr." " Sire," font-yl, " si nus le perdisoms 
par nostre coardise ou par nostre maveise garde de- 
were there. John demanded of them to come in love to 
speak with his lord in the forest, or if not they should come 
in spite of themselves. Then a sergeant sprang forward, 
and struck John a great blow with a sword. John struck 
him again on the head, that he fell to the ground insen- 
sible. Then came sir Fulk and his company, and assailed 
the merchants ; and they defended themselves very vigor- 
ously. In the end they surrendered, for they were forced 
to do so. Fulk led them into the forest, and they related 
to him that they were merchants of the king; and when 
Fulk heard that, he was very glad. And he said to them : 
" Sirs merchants, if you should lose these goods, on whom 
will the loss turn 1 tell me the truth." " Sir," said they, 
" if we should lose it by our cowardice or by our own bad 


meyne, la pierte tornereit sur nus ; e si en autre 
manere le perdisoms, en peril de mer ou par force 
de gentz, la pierte tornereit desuz le roy." " Ditez- 
vus le voyr?" " Oyl, sire," fount-yl. Sire Fouke, 
quant entendy qe la pierte serreit al roy, donqe fist 
mesurer le riche drap e riche pelure par sa launce, 
e si vesfi tous ceux qe ou ly furent, petitz e grantz, 
de eel riche drap, e dona a chescun solum ce qu'il 
estoit ; mes mesure avoit chescun assez large. De 1' au- 
tre aver prist chescun a volente. Quant il fust avespre, 
e les marchauntz aveynt bien mange, si les comanda 
a Dieu, e pria qu'il saluasent le roy de par Fouke fitz 
Warin, qe ly mercia mout de ces bones robes. Fouke 
ne nul de suens, de tot le tens qu'il fust exilee, unqe 

keeping, the loss would turn upon us ; and if we lose it in 
other manner, by danger of the sea or by people's force, the 
loss will turn upon the king." " Say you the truth ?" 
" Yes, sir," said they. Sir Fulk, when he heard that the 
loss would be the king's, caused the rich cloth and rich 
skins to be measured with his spear, and clothed all those 
who were with him, little and great, with that rich cloth, 
and gave to each according to what he was ; but every one 
had large measure enough. Of the rest of the goods each 
took at his will. When evening was come, and the mer- 
chants had eaten well, he bade them adieu, and prayed them 
to salute the king from Fulk Fitz Warine, who thanked 
him much for his good robes. Fulk nor any of his, during 
the whole time that he was outlawed, would ever do hurt 


ne voleint damage fere a nully, si noun al roy e a ces 
chevalers. Quant les marchantz e lur serjantz vindrent 
naufrez e mayhaymes devant le roy, e counterent al 
roy ce qe Fouke lur charga e coment Fouke aveit son 
aver pris, a poy qu'il ne enraga de ire. E fist fere 
une criee par mi le realme, que cely qe ly amerreit 
Fouke, vyf ou mort, yl ly dorreit myl lyvres d' argent, 
e estre ce yl ly dorreit totes le terres qe a Fouke fu- 
rent en Engleterre. 

De yleqe vet Fouke, e vient en la foreste de Kent, 
e lessa ces chevalers en 1'espesse de la foreste, e s'en 
vet tot soul chyvalchant le haut chemyn ; si encontra 
un messager trop jolyvement chauntant, e avoit vestu 
la teste de un chapelet de rose vermayl. Fouke ly pria 

to any one, except to the king and to his knights. When 
the merchants and their sergeants came wounded and 
maimed before the king, and related to the king Fulk's 
message and how Fulk had taken his goods, he almost 
went mad with rage. And he caused it to be cried through 
the kingdom, that whoever would bring him Fulk alive or 
dead, he would give him a thousand pounds of silver, and 
besides that he would give him all the lands which were 
Fulk's in England. 

Fulk went thence, and came into the weald of Kent, and 
left his knights in the thick of the forest, and went all alone 
riding in the high road ; and he met a messenger singing 
Vei 7 joyously, with his head decorated with a chaplet of 
red roses. Fulk prayed him for love that he would give 


pur amur qu'il ly donast le chapelet; e, si yl avoit 
afere de ly, yl ly rendreit le double. " Sire," fet le mes- 
sager, " il est mout eschars de son aver, qe un chapelet 
de rose ne velt doner a la requeste de un chevaler." 
E dona le chapelet a Fouke ; e il ly dona xx. sols de 
loer. Le messager le conust bien, quar yl le avoit 
sovent veu. Le messager vint a Canterbures ; si encon- 
tra les c. chevalers q'aveyent quis Fouke par mi tot 
Engleterre, e lur dit : " Seignours, dont venez ? Avez 
trove ce qe vus avez quis par le comandement nostre 
seignur le roy e pur vostre avancement?" " Nanyl," 
fount-yl. " Qey me dorez-vus ?" fet-il, " e je vus amer- 
roi la ou je ly vy huy e parlay." Tant donerent e pro- 
mistrent al messager qu'il lur dit ou yl ly avoit veu, e 

him the chaplet ; and if he had need of him, he would repay 
him double. " Sir," said the messenger, " he is very spar- 
ing of his goods, who will not give a chaplet of roses at the 
request of a knight." And he gave the chaplet to Fulk ; 
who gave him twenty sols for his pay. The messenger 
knew him well, for he had often seen him. The messenger 
came to Canterbury; and met the hundred knights who 
had sought Fulk through all England, and said to them : 
" Lords, whence come ye 1 Have you found that which 
you have sought by command of our lord the king and for 
your advancement 1" " No," say they. " What will you 
give me 1" said he, " and I will take you to the place 
where I saw him and spake to him yesterday." They gave 
and promised so much to the messenger that he told them 


coment yl ly dona xx. s. pnr le chapelet qu'il ly dona de 
gree. Les c. chevalers firent somondre hastivement tot 
le pays, chevalers, esquiers, e serjauntz, e enseggerent 
tote la foreste tot entour; e mistrent tosours e rece- 
vours come furent venours, e mistrent viele gent e 
autres par tot le champ ou corns, pur escrier Fouke 
e ces compaignons, quant furent issuz de la foreste. 
Fouke fust en la foreste, e rien ne savoit de cest affere. 
Atant oy un chevaler soner un gros bugle, si avoit 
suspecion, e comanda ces freres mounter lur destrers, 
Willam, Phelip, Johan, e Alayn. Ces freres monterent 
meyntenant. Audulf de Bracy e Baudwyn de Hodenet, 
Johan Malveysyn, monterent ensement. Les treis freres 
de Cosham, Thomas, Pieres, e Willam, furent bons ar- 

where he had seen him, and how he had given him twenty 
sols for the chaplet which he gave him gratis. The hun- 
dred knights caused all the country to be summoned in 
haste, knights, esquiers, and Serjeants, and beset the forest 
all round; and set starters and receivers as if they were 
hunters, and placed old people and others all over the 
field, with horns, to raise the cry upon Fulk and his 
companions, when they should have issued from the forest. 
Fulk was in the forest, and knew nothing of this matter. 
At length he heard a knight sound a great bugle, and had 
suspicion, and commanded his brothers to mount their 
steeds, William, Philip, John, and Alan. His brothers 
mounted at once. Aldulf de Bracy and Baldwin de Hodnet, 
with John Malveysin, mounted also. The three brothers of 
Cosham, Thomas, Pierce, and William, were good arblasters, 


blasters, e tote Pautre meyne Fouke furent tost aprestee 
a le assaut. 

Fouke e ces compagnouns issirent de la foreste, 
si virent, devant tuz les autres, le c. chevalers qe les 
aveynt quis par mi Engletere. Si se ferirent entre eux, 
e ocistrent Gilbert de Mountferrant e Jordan de Cole- 
cestre e plusours autres chevalers de la compaignie ; 
si passerent outre par my les c. chevalers, e autres- 
foyth revyndrent par my eux, e les abatirent espes- 
sement. Atant survyndrent tantz chevalers, esquiers, 
borgeys, serjantz, e pueple santz nounbre, qe Fouke 
aparQust bien qu'il ne poeit durer la batayle, si se re- 
torna a la foreste ; mes Johan son frere fust naufre en 
la teste par my le healme. Mes, eynz qu'il tornasent 

and all the rest of Fulk's people were soon ready for the 

Fulk and his companions issued from the forest, and saw, 
before all the others, the hundred knights who had sought 
them through England. And they charged among them, 
and slew Gilbert de Mountferrant and Jordan de Colchester 
and many other knights of the company ; and they passed 
through the midst of the hundred knights, and sometimes 
returned among them, and struck them down in numbers. 
At length there came upon them so many knights, esquiers, 
burghers, sergeants, and people without number, that Fulk 
saw well he could not support the contest, and returned into 
the forest ; but his brother John was wounded in the head 
through the helm. But, before they turned to the forest, 


a la foreste, meint bon chevaler, esquiers, e serjantz 
furent detrenchez. Fouke e ces compaignons ferirent 
les destrers des esperouns, e fuyrent. Les gentz par 
tut leverent la menee sur eux, e les pursywyrent ou 
menee par tut. Atant entrerent en une veye, e ne vyrent 
qe un lever la menee ou un corn. Un de la compaignie 
le fery par mi le corps de un quarel ; atant lessa le cri 
e la menee. 

Fouke e ses compagnons lesserent lur chyvals, e tot 
a pie s'enfuyrent vers une abbeye qe lur fust depres. 
Quant le porter les vist, si corust fermer ces portes. 
Alayn fust mout haut ; si passa meyntenant outre les 
murs, e le porter comen9a fuyr. " Atendez," fet Alayn. 
Si ly corust apres, e prist les clefs de ly ; e fery de la 

many a good knight, squiers, and sergeants, were cut up. 
Fulk and his companions struck their steeds with their 
spurs, and fled. The people every where raised the hue and 
cry upon them, and everywhere pursued them with the 
country. At length they entered in a way, and saw but one 
raising the hue and cry with a horn. One of the company 
struck him through the body with an arrow ; upon which 
he left the cry and the pursuit. 

Fulk and his companions quitted their horses, and all on 
foot fled towards an abbey which was near at hand. When 
the porter saw them, he ran to shut the gates. Alan was 
very tall ; and passed at once over the walls, and the porter 
began to fly. " Wait," said Alan. And he ran after him, 
and took the keys from him ; and he struck him with the 


masuele dont les clefs pendyrent un coup qu'a resoun 
ly grevereit pur sa fute. Alayn lessa tous ces freres 
entrer. Fouke prist un abit de un viel moyne, e se 
vesty meyntenaunt ; e prist un grant potence en sa 
mayn, e s'en ala hors a la porte, e fist clore la porte 
apres ly, e s'en vet. Vet clochaunt de le un pee, apuant 
tot le cors a le grant potence. Atant vindrent cheva- 
lers e serjantz, ou grant pueple. Donqe dit un chevaler : 
" Daun veylard moyne, avez-vus veu nuls chevalers 
armes passer par ycy ?" " Oyl, sire ; Dieu lur rende 
le damage qe il ont fet!" " Qey vus ount-il fet?" 
" Sire," fet-yl, " je su viels, e ne me pus ayder, tant su 
defet; e si vindrent vij. a chyvals, e entour xv. a pie; 
e, pur ce qe je ne lur pooy hastivement voider le 

staff on which the keys hung a blow that fairly stopped his 
flying. Alan let all the brothers come in. Fulk took a 
habit of an old monk, and immediately dressed himself in 
it ; and took a great club in his hand, and went out at the 
gate, and caused the gate to be shut after him, and goes 
away. He goes limping with one foot, supporting all his 
body on the great club. At length came knights and ser- 
geants, with much people. Then said a knight : a Sir old 
monk, have you seen any knights armed pass by here V 
" Yes, sir; may God repay them the hurt they have done !" 
" What have they done to you ?" " Sir," said he, " I am aged, 
and can no longer help myself, I am so decrepid ; and there 
came seven on horseback, and about fifteen on foot; and 
because I could not quickly get out of their way, they took 

G 2 


chemyn, yl ne me esparnierent de rien, mes firent lur 
chyvals coure outre moy, e ce fust pecchie dont poy 
lur fust." " Tes-tey," fet-il, " vus serrez bien venge 
eynz buy." Les chevalers e trestous les autres hastive- 
ment passerent avant a pursyvre Fouke, e furent bien 
tost esloygneez une lywe de le abbeye. 

Sire Fouke estut en pees pur plus ver. Atant vynt 
sire Gyrard de Malfee e x. compaignons, chevalers 
bien monteez, quar il furent venuz de la outre; e 
amenerent ou eux chyvals de pris. Donqe dit Gyrard 
en mokant : " Veiez-cy un moygne gros e grant ; e si 
ad le ventre bien large a herbiger deus galons de 
chens." Les freres Fouke furent dedenz la porte, e 
aveyent oy e veu tote la continaunce Fouke. Fouke, 

no care of me, but made their horses run over me, and little 
did they reck of what they had done." " Say no more," 
said he, "you shall be well revenged before the day is 
over." The knights and all the others passed forwards in 
haste to pursue Fulk, and were soon a league's distance 
from the abbey. 

Sir Fulk raised himself on his feet, to see more. At length 
came sir Girard de Malfee and ten companions, knights well 
mounted, for they were come from abroad ; and they brought 
with them horses of value. Then said Girard in mockery : 
" Here is a monk who is stout and tall ; and he has a belly 
large enough to hold two gallons inside." Fulk's brothers 
were within the gate, and had heard and seen all Fulk's 
proceedings. Fulk, without more words, lifted up the great 


santz plus dire, leva le grant potence, si fery sire 
Gyrard desouth 1'oryle, qu'il chay tot estonee a terre. 
Les freres Fouke, quant ce vyrent, saylerent hors a 
la porte, si pristrent les x. chevalers e sire Gyrard 
e tote lur herneys, e les lyerent mout ferm en la loge 
le porter, e pristrent tote lur herneys e lur bons des- 
trers ; e s'en alerent, qe unqe ne fynerent de errer eynz 
qu'il vindrent a Huggeford. E ileqe fust Johan sanee 
de sa plaie. 

Quant avoient ileqe sojorne une piece, dount vint 
un messager qe avoit bien longement quis sire Fouke, 
e ly dit salutz de par Hubert, 1'arcevesque de Caun- 
terbures, e ly pria hastivement venir parler ou ly. 
Fouke prist sa gent, e vynt deleez Canterbures, en la 

club, and struck sir Girard under the ear, that he fell quite 
stunned to the earth. Fulk's brothers, when they saw this, 
rushed out at the gate, and took the ten knights and sir 
Girard and all their equipments, and bound them very tight 
in the porter's lodge, and took all their harness and their 
good steeds ; and went their way, so that they never ceased 
wandering till they came to Huggeford. And there John 
was healed of his wound. 

After they had dwelt there awhile, there came a mes- 
senger who had been very long seeking sir Fulk, and sa- 
luted him on the part of Hubert archbishop of Canterbury, 
and begged him in haste to come and talk with him. Fulk 
took his people, and came near Canterbury, in the forest 


foreste ou eyntz avoit estee ; e lessa tote sa compagnie 
ileqe, estre Willam son frere. Fouke e Willam se aty- 
rerent come marchauntz, e vindrent a Caunterbures a 
le evesqe Hubert. Le archevesqe Hubert le Botiler lur 
dit : " Beal fitz," fet-yl, " vus estes bien venuz a moy. 
Vus savez bien qe sire Thebaud le Botiler, mon frere, 
est a Dieu comandee, e avoit esposee dame Mahaud 
de Caus, une mout riche dame e la plus bele de tote 
Engletere. E le roy Johan la desire taunt pur sa 
bealte, qe a peyne ele se puet garder de ly. E je 
la tienke seyntz, e vus la verrez. E je vus prie, cher 
amy Fouke, e comant sur ma benoysoun qe vus la 
prenez a espouse." Fouke la vist; e savoit bien qe 
ele fust bele, bone, e de bon los, e qe ele avoit en 

where he had been before ; and left all his company there, 
except his brother William. Fulk and William dressed 
themselves as merchants, and came to Canterbury to bishop 
Hubert. The archbishop Hubert le Botiler said to them : 
" Fair sons," said he, " you are very welcome to me. You 
know well that sir Theobald le Botiler, my brother, is de- 
parted to God, and had espoused dame Maude de Caus, a 
very rich lady and the fairest in all England, and king John 
lusts after her so much for her beauty, that she can with 
difficulty be kept from him. And I have her here within, 
and you shall see her. And I pray you, dear friend Fulk, 
and command you on my benediction that you take her to 
wife !" Fulk saw her; and knew well that she was fair, 
good, and of good repute ; and that she had in Ireland 


Yrlaunde fortz chastels, cites, terres, e rentes, e grantz 
homages. Par assent Willam son frere, e par consayl 
de le erchevesqe Hubert, esposa dame Mahaud de 
Caus. Fouke demora deu jours yleqe, e pus prist 
congie de 1'evesqe, e lessa sa femme yleqe, e revynt 
al boys a ces compaignouns, e lur conta quanqu'il 
avoit fait. Yl ly escharnyerent e rierent, e le ape- 
lerent hosebaunde ; e ly demanderent ou il amerreit 
la bele dame, le quel al chastel ou a le boys; e s'entre- 
solaserent. Mes grant damage firent a le roy par tot ; 
e a nul autre, si noun a ceux qe furent overtement lur 

Un chevaler qe fust apelee Robert le fitz Sampsoun 
fust menaunt en la marche de Escoce, e soleyt mout 

strong castles, cities, lands, and rents, and extensive ho- 
mages. With the assent of his brother William, and by the 
counsel of archbishop Hubert, he married the lady Maude 
de Caus. Fulk remained two days there, and then took 
leave of the bishop, and left his wife there, and returned to 
the wood to his companions, and told them all he had done. 
They made game of him and laughed, and called him hus- 
band; and asked him where he should take the fair lady, 
whether to castle or to wood ; and made merry together. 
But they did everywhere great damage to the king ; and to 
no other, but to those who were openly their enemies. 

A knight who was called Robert Fitz Sampson was dwell- 
ing in the march of Scotland, and used very often to receive 
sir Fulk and his people and lodge them with great honour ; 


sovent receyvre sire Fouke e sa gent e les herbiger a 
grant honour j e si fust home de grant tresour. E sa 
femme fust apelee dame Anable, e fust molt corteise 
dame. En eel temps fust un chevaler en la contree qe 
fust apelee Pieres de Bruvyle. Cely Pieres soleit as- 
sembler tous les fitz de gentils homes de le pays qe 
volagous erent, e autre rybaudayle ; e soleynt aler par 
le pays, e ocistrent e robberent lele gent, marchanz 
e autres. Cely Pieres, quant yl ou sa compaignie ala 
robber les gentz, se fesoit apeler Fouke le fitz Waryn ; 
pur quey Fouke e ces compaignons furent trop male- 
ment aloseez de ce qu'il n'aveyent coupe. Fouke, qe 
trop longement, pur doute de le roy Johan, ne poeit 
demorer en un lyu, vint par nuyt en la marche d'Es- 
coce, e vynt mout pres la court sire Robertz le fitz 

and he was a man of great wealth. And his wife was called 
the lady Anable, and was a very courteous lady. At that 
time there was a knight in the country who was called 
Piers de Bruvile. This Piers used to collect all the sons of 
gentlemen of the country who were wild, and other ribald 
people ; and used to go about the country, and slew and 
robbed loyal people, merchants, and others. This Piers, 
when he with his country went to rob people, caused him- 
self to be called Fulk Fitz Warine, whereby Fulk and his 
companions gained very ill fame for that of which they were 
not guilty. Fulk, who could not, for fear of king John, 
remain too long in one place, came by night into the march 
of Scotland, and came very near the court of sir Robert 


Sampsoun. E vist grant lumere dedenz la court, e 
oy parler leynz e sovent nomer son noun ; si fist ces 
compaignons arester dehors. Fouke meismes hardie- 
ment entra le court, pus la sale, si vist Peres de 
Bruville e autres chevalers seantz a soper; e Robert 
le fitz Sampsoun e sa bone dame e la meyne furent 
lyez e juteez d'une part la sale. E sire Pieres [e] ces 
compaignons trestouz furent vysureez; e trestous qe 
servyrent leynz engenulerent devant sire Pieres, e le 
apelerent lur seignur sire Fouke. La dame, qe just lye 
deleez son seignur en la sale, dit molt pitousement: 
" Hay ! sire Fouke," fet-ele, " pur Dieu merci, je ne 
vus unqe meffis, mes vus ay amee a mon poer." Sire 
Fouke estut en pees, e avoit escote quant qu'il aveyent 

Fitz Sampson. And he saw a great light within the court, 
and heard talking within and frequent mention of his 
name ; and he made his companions halt outside. Fulk 
himself boldly entered the court, and then the hall, and saw 
Piers de Bruvile and other knights sitting at supper ; and 
Robert Fitz Sampson and his good lady and the household 
bound and cast on one side of the hall. And sir Piers 
and his companions were all masked ; and all who served 
within bent the knee before sir Piers, and called him their 
lord sir Fulk. The lady, who lay bound near her lord in 
the hall, said very piteously : " Ha ! sir Fulk," said she, 
" for God's mercy, I never did you hurt, but have always 
loved you to my power." Sir Fulk stood up on his feet, 
and had heard all that he had said ; but when he heard 


dit ; mes quant il avoyt oy la dame parler, qe grant 
bounte ly avoit fait, pur nulle chose du mounde ne 
se poeit plus deporter. Tut santz compaignon se mist 
avant, e sa espeie trete en sa meyn, e dit : " Ore, 
pees ! je vus comand, trestous qe seynz voy, qe nul ne 
se moeve tant ne quant." E jura grant serement qe, 
[si] nul fust tant hardy de sey mover, il le detrenche- 
reit en menuz pieces. Pieres e ces compaignouns se 
tindrent engyneez. " Ore," fet Fouke, " qy de vus se fet 
apeler Fouke ?" " Sire," fet Pieres, " je su chevaler, 
si su apellee Fouke." " De par Deus," fet-yl, " sire 
Fouke, levez sus tost, si liez bien e ferm tous vos com- 
paignons, ou si noun tut premer perderez le chief." 
Pieres fust molt enpourys de la manace, e leva sus; 

the lady speak, who had done him great kindness, for no- 
thing in the world could he longer contain himself. All 
without companion he stept forward, with his sword drawn 
in his hand, and said : " Now, peace ! I command you, all 
whom I see in here, that no one stir the least." And he 
swore a great oath that, if any one was so bold as to stir, he 
would cut him into small pieces. Piers and his companions 
felt themselves overreached, " Now," said Fulk, " which of 
you causes himself to be called ' Fulk' ?" " Sir," said 
Piers, " I am a knight, and am called Fulk." " By God," 
said he, " sir Fulk, rise quickly, and bind well and tight all 
your companions, or if not, you shall be the first to lose 
your head." Piers was much terrified with the threat, and 
rose ; and he unbound the lord and the lady and all the rest 


e delia le seignour e la dame e tous les autres de la 
meynee, e lya bien e ferm tous ces compaignouns. 
E quant tous furent liez, Fouke ly fist couper les 
testes de tous iceux qu'il avoit liez. E quant yl avoit tous 
ceux compaignons decoleez, " Vus recreant chevaler qe 
vus fetez apeler Fouke, vus y mentez. Je su Fouke, e 
ce saverez-vus bien; e je vus rendroy qe faucement 
m'avez alosee de larcyn." E ly coupa la teste meynte- 
nant ; e quant avoit ce fet, apela ces compaignouns, e 
soperent la, e se fyrent bien aeese. E issi sire Fouke 
salva sire Robert e tut son tresour, qe rien ne perdy. 

Le roy fist grant damage mout sovent a sire Fouke. 
E sire Fouke, tot fust-il fort e hardy, yl fust sages 
e engynous ; quar le roy e sa gent pursiwyrent molt 

of the household, and bound well and tight all his compa- 
nions. And when all were bound, Fulk made him cut off 
the heads of all those whom he had bound. And when he 
had beheaded all his companions, [said Fulke], "You re- 
creant knight who cause yourself to be called Fulk, you lie 
in doing so. I am Fulk, and that you shall know well ; and 
I will pay you off for falsely procuring me the reputation of 
a robber." And he immediately cut off his head ; and when 
he had done that, he called his companions, and they supped, 
and enjoyed themselves much. And thus sir Fulk saved sir 
Robert and all his treasure, that nothing was lost. 

The king very often did great damage to sir Fulk. And 
sir Fulk, strong and bold as he was, was also prudent and 
crafty ; for the king and his people very often pursued sir 


sovent sire Fouke par le esclotz des chyvals ; e Fouke 
molt sovent fist ferrer ces chyvals e mettre les fers a 
revers, issint qe le roy de sa sywte fust des9\i e engy- 
nee. Meynt dur estour sofFry sire Fouke eynz qu'il 
avoit conquis son heritage. 

Sire Fouke prist congie de moun sire Robert le fitz 
Sampsoun, e se vynt a Alberburs, e fist fere sa loge 
en une foreste deleez sur la ryvere. Fouke apela 
Johan de Raunpaygne; " Johan," fet-yl, " vus savez 
assez de menestralsie e de jogelerye ; estes-vus osee 
d'aler a Blanche- Ville, e juer devant Morys le fitz 
Roger, e d'enquere lur afTere ?" " Oyl," fet Johan. 
Yl fist tribler un herbe, e la mist en sa bouche ; e sa 
face comen9a d'engroser e emflyr moult gros, e tut 
devynt si descoloree qe ces compaignons demeyne a 

Fulk by the footmarks of his horses; and sir Fulk very 
often caused his horses to be shoed with the shoes reversed, 
so that the king was deceived and tricked in the pursuit, 
Many a hard battle Fulk endured before he gained his 

Sir Fulk took leave of sir Robert Fitz Sampson, and went 
to Alberbury, and caused his lodging to be made in a forest 
near the river. Fulk called John de Raunpaigne ; " John," 
said he, " you know enough of minstrelsy and jonglery ; 
dare you go to White-Town, and play before Moris Fitz 
Roger, and spy how things are going on 1" " Yea," said 
John. He caused a herb to be crushed, and put it in his 
mouth; and his face began to enlarge and swell very 
great, and became all discoloured that his own companions 


grant peyne le conurent. Johan se vesti asque povre- 
ment, e prist sa male ou sa jogelerie e un grant bas- 
toun en sa meyn ; vynt a Blanche-Ville, e dit al porter 
qu'il fust un jogelour. Le porter le mena devant sire 
Moris le fitz Roger ; e Morys ly demaunda ou yl fust 
nee. " Sire," fet-il, " en la marche d'Escoce." " E 
quele novelesr" "Sire, je ne sai nulles, estre de 
sire Fouke le fitz Waryn, q'est ocys a une roberye 
qu'il fist a la mesone sire Robert le fitz Sampson." 
"Dites-vus voir?" " Oyl, certes," fet-il; " ce dient 
totes les gentz du pays." " Menestral," fet-il, " pur 
vostre novele je vus dorroy ceste coupe de fyn argent." 
Le menestral prent la coupe, e mercia molt son bon 
seignur. Johan de Rampaigne fust molt led de vys 

hardly knew him. John dressed himself very poorly, and 
took his box with his instruments of joglery and a great 
staff in his hand ; came to White-Town, and said that 
he was a jogelour. The porter took him before sir Moris 
Fitz Roger; and Moris asked him where he was born. 
" Sir," said he, " in the march of Scotland." " And what 
news ?" " Sir, I know none, except of sir Fulk Fitz Warine, 
who has been killed in a robbery which he was executing at 
the house of sir Robert Fitz Sampson." "Do you say the 
truth ?" " Yes, certainly," said he, "all the people of the 
country say so." " Minstrel," said he, " for your news I 
will give you this cup of fine silver." The minstrel took 
the cup, and thanked very much his good lord. John de 
Rampaigne was very ill-favoured in face and body ; and on 


e de corps ; e, pur ce, les rybaudz de leynz ly eschar- 
nierent e defolerent e detrestreint par ces chevoyls e 
par ces pees. Yl leva son bastoun, si fery un rybaud 
en la teste, qe la cervele vola en my la place. " Malveys 
rybaud," fet le seignur, " qey as-tu fet?" " Sire," 
fet-yl, "pur Dieu mercy, je ne pus meez ; j'ai une ma- 
ladie qe trop est grevouse, e ce poez vere par la face 
qe j'ay si emflee. E cele maladie me tent certeygnes 
houres de jour tut le seen, dont je n'ay poer mey- 
meismes a governer." Moris jura grant serement, s'il 
ne fust pur la novele qu'il aveit porte, yl ly freit estre 
decolle meintenant. Le jogelour se hasta qu'il fust 
passee de la, quar molt ly sembla long la demuere. 
Revynt a Fouke, e counta de mot en autre coment aveit 

this account the ribalds of the household made game of him 
and treated him roughly and pulled him by his hair and by 
his feet. He raised his staff, and struck a ribald on the 
head, that his brain flew into the midst of the place. 
"Wretched ribald," said the lord, "what hast thou done ?" 
" Sir," said he, " for God's mercy, I cannot help it ; I have 
a disease which is very grievous, which you may see by my 
face which is so much swollen. And this disease takes en- 
tire possession of me at certain hours of the day, whereby I 
have not power to govern myself." Moris swore a great 
oath, that if it were not for the news he had brought, he 
would have his head cut off immediately. The jogelour 
hastened his departure, for the time he remained there 
seemed very long. He returned to Fulk, and told him from 


erre, e dit qu'il avoit oy en la court qe sire Morys e 
ces xv. chevalers e sa meyne irreynt lendemayn al 
chastel de Saloburs, quar il esteit gardeyn de tote la 
marche. Quant sire Fouke ce savoit, molt fust lee e 
ces compaignouns ensement. 

Lendemeyn leva Fouke matyn, e fust armee tot a 
talent, e ces compaignons ensement. Morys vynt vers 
Soloburs, e quinze chevalers ou ly, e le iiij. fitz Gwy 
fitz Candelou de Porkyntone, e sa autre meyne. E 
quant Fouke ly vyst, molt fust lee ; e molt fust irree a 
ly, pur ce qu'il ly detient a force son heritage. Morys 
regarda vers le pas de Nesse, si vist un escu quartilee 
de goules e d'argent endentee, e par ces armes conust 
qe ce fust Fouke. " Ore sai-je bien," fet Morys, " qe 

word to word how he had proceeded, and said that he had 
heard in the court that sir Moris and his fifteen knights and 
his household would go on the morrow to the castle of 
Shrewsbury, for he was keeper of all the march. When sir 
Fulk knew that, he was very glad and his companions also. 
Fulk rose early on the morrow, and was armed all at his 
will, and his companions likewise. Moris came towards 
Shrewsbury, and fifteen knights with him, and the four sons 
of Guy Fitz Candelou of Porkingtone, and the rest of his 
household. And when Fulk saw him, he was very glad; 
and he was much angered against him, because he detained 
from him his inheritance by force. Moris looked towards 
the pass of Nesse, and saw a shield quartered with gules 
and endented argent, and by his arms knew that it was 


jogelers sunt mensungers ; quar la voy Fouke." Moris 
e ces chevalers furent molt hardis ; e hardiement asay- 
lyrent Fouke e ces compaignouns, e les apelerent 
larouns, e diseyent qe lur testes eynz la vespree ser- 
reient assis al haut tour de Salobures. Fouke e ces 
freres se defendirent molt vigerousement ; e yleqe fust 
sire Morys e ces xv. chevalers e les iiij. fitz Gwy fitz 
Candelou de Porkyntone ocys ; e de atant aveit Fouke 
le meyns enymys. 

Fouke e ces compaignons s'en alerent de yleqe vers 
Rothelan deparler ou sire Lewys, le prince, q'aveit 
esposee Johane, la fyle le roy Henre, suere le roy 
Johan ; quar le prince e sire Fouke e ces freres furent 
norys ensemble en la court le roy Henre. Le prince 

Fulk. " Now know I well," said Moris, " that jogelours are 
lyers ; for there is Fulk." Moris and his knights were very 
courageous ; and they boldly attacked Fulk and his compa- 
nions, and called them thieves, and said that before evening 
their heads should be placed on the high tower of Shrews- 
bury. Fulk and his brothers defended themselves very 
vigorously ; and there were Moris and his fifteen knights 
and the four sons of Guy Fitz Candelou of Porkingtone 
slain ; and by so many had Fulk the fewer enemies. 

Fulk and his companions went their way thence toward 
Rhuddlan to talk with sir Lewis, the prince, who had mar- 
ried Joane, the daughter of king Henry, sister of king John ; 
for the prince and sir Fulk and his brothers were educated 
together in the court of king Henry. The prince was very 


fust molt lee de la venue sire Fouke, e ly demanda 
quel acord fust entre le roy e ly. " Sire," fet Fouke, 
"mil, quar je ne pus aver pees pur nulle chose; e pur 
ce, sire, su-je venuz a vus e a ma bone dame pur 
vostre pees aver." " Certes," fet le prince, " ma pees 
je vus grant e doynz, e de moy bon resut averez. Le 
roy d'Engletere ne pees ou vus ne moy ne autre siet 
aver." "Sire," fet Fouke, "grant mercis ; quar en 
vus molt me affy e en vostre grant lealte. E, pus qe 
vus me avez vostre pees grantee, je vus dirroy autre 
chose ; certes, sire, Morys le fis Roger est mortz, quar 
je 1'ay ocys." Quant le prince savoit qe Morys fust 
mortz, molt fust irree ; e dit qe, s'il ne ly avoit sa pees 
donee, yl ly freit trayner e pendre, pur ce qe Morys 

glad of sir Fulk's visit, and asked him what accord there 
was between the king and him. " Sir," said Fulk, "none, 
for I cannot have peace for anything ; and therefore, sir, am 
I come to you and to my good lady to have your peace." 
" Truly," said the prince, " my peace I grant and give you, 
and from me you shall have good protection. The king of 
England knows not how to have peace with you or me or 
anyone else." " Sir," said Fulk, "much thanks ; for I trust 
me much in you and in your great loyalty. And, since you 
have granted me your peace, I will tell you another thing ; 
truly, sir, Moris Fitz Roger is dead; for I have slain him." 
When the prince knew that Moris was dead, he was much 
enraged; and said that, if he had not given him his peace, 
he would have had him drawn and hanged, because Moris 



fust son cosyn. Donqe vynt la bone dame, e fist 
accord entre le prince e sire Fouke, issint qu'il furent 
entrebayseez e toutz maltalentz pardoneez. 

En icel temps grant descord fust entre le prince 
Lewys e Guenonwyn, le fitz Yweyn Keveyloc; e a 
cely Guenonwyn grant partie de le pays de Powys 
apendeit, e si fust molt orgoylous, hauteyn, e fer, 
e ne vodra rien deporter le prince, mes fist grant 
destruxidn en sa terre. Le prince a force avoit tot 
abatu le chastel Metheyn, e avoit pris en sa meyn 
Mochnant, Lannerth, e autres terres qe furent a Gue- 
nonwyn. Le prince eomaunda la mestrie de tote sa 
terre a Fouke, e ly eomaunda coure sur Guenonwyn 
e destrure totes ces terres. Fouke fust sages e bien 

was his cousin. Then came the good lady, and brought 
about an accord between the prince and sir Fulk, so that 
they embraced each other and all offences were forgiven. 

At this time there was great discord between prince 
Lewis and Gwenwynwyn, the son of Owen Keveyloc ; and 
to this Gwenwynwyn great part of the country of Powis be- 
longed, and he was very proud, haughty, and fierce, and 
would not submit to the prince in anything, but made great 
destruction in his land. The prince by force had totally 
demolished the castle of Metheyn, and had taken into his 
hand Mochnant, Lannerth, and other lands which belonged 
to Gwenwynwyn. The prince entrusted the mastry of all 
his land to Fulk, and commanded him to go against Gwen- 
wynwyn and destroy all his lands. Fulk was prudent 


avysee, e savoyt bien qe le tort fust al prince ; si ly 
dist en bele manere : " Sire, pur Dieu," fet-il, " mercy ! 
si vus ce fetez qe vus avez devysee, vus serrez molt 
blame en estrange regneez de totes gentz. E, sire, si 
vus plest, ne vus peyse qe je le vus dy, tote gent 
dient qe vus avez peschie de ly. E, pur ce, sire, pur 
Dieu, eiez mercy de ly, e yl se redressera a vus a 
vostre volente, e vus servira de gree. E vus ne savez 
quant vus averez mester a vos barouns." Tant precha 
Fouke au prince e parla, qe le prince e Guenonwyn 
furent entreacordeez ; e le prince ly rendy totes ces 
terres qe de ly eynz furent prisees. 

Le roy Johan fust a Wyncestre. Ataunt vynt la 
novele a ly qe Fouke avoit ocys Morys le fitz Roger, e 

and cautious, and knew well that the wrong was on the 
prince's side ; so he said to him in fair manner : " Sir, for 
God's sake," said he, " pardon ! if you do that which you 
have devised, you will be much blamed in foreign kingdoms 
by every body. And, sir, if you please, be not offended that 
I tell it to you, all people say that you have sinned against 
him. And therefore, sir, for God's sake, have mercy towards 
him, and he will return to his service to you at your will, 
and will serve you with gladness. And you do not know 
when you will have need of your barons." Fulk preached 
and talked so much to the prince, that the prince and 
Gwenwynwyn were reconciled ; and the prince restored to 
him all his lands which had been before taken from him. 
King John was at Winchester. At length came news to 

H 2 


qu'il fust demoree ou Lewys le prince, q'aveit esposee 
Johane, sa suere ; si devynt molt pensyf, e bone piece 
ne sona parole. Pus dit : " Hay, seinte Marie ! je 
su roy, Engletere guye, due su d'Angoye e de Nor- 
maundye, e tote Yrland est en ma segnorie; e je 
ne pus trover ne aver en tot moun poer, pur quanqe 
je pus doner, nul qe me velt venger de le damage 
e hontage qe Fouke m'ad fet. Mes je ne lerroy qe 
je ne me vengeroy de le prince." Si fist somoundre 
a Salobures tous ces countes e baronz e ces autres che- 
valers, qu'il seient a un certeyn jour a Salobures ou tot 
lur gent. E quant furentz venuz a Salobures, Lewys fust 
garny par ces amys qe le roy Johan ly movereit grant 
guere; e apela Fouke, si ly mostra tote le aventure. 

him that Fulk had slain Moris Fitz Roger, and that he was 
dwelling with prince Lewis, who had married Joan, his sis- 
ter; upon which he became very thoughtful, and for a good 
while uttered not a word. Then he said : " Ha ! St. Mary ! 
1 am king, rule England, am duke of Anjou and Normandy, 
and all Ireland is in my lordship ; and I cannot find or have 
in all my dominion, give what I will, anyone who will 
avenge me for the injury and shame that Fulk has done me. 
But I will not fail to avenge myself of the prince." He 
caused to be summoned to Shrewsbury all his earls and 
barons and his other knights, that they should be on a cer- 
tain day at Shrewsbury with all their people. And when 
they were come to Shrewsbury, Lewis was warned by his 
friends that king John would stir up great war against 


Fouke fist assembler al chastel Balaham en Pentlyn 
xxx. mil de bons honmes ; e Guenonwyn le fitz Yweyn 
vynt ou ces gentz, qe fortz e hardys furent. Fouke 
fust assez sage de guere, e conust bien tous les pas- 
sages par ont le roy Johan covenist passer. E le pas- 
sage fust mout escars, enclos de boys e marreis, issi 
qu'il ne poeit passer si noun le haut chemyn. E le 
passage est apele le Gue Gymele. Fouke e Guenonwyn 
ou lur gentz vindrent al passage, e fyrent fouer, outre 
le haut chemyn, une fosse long, profound, e lee ; e 
firent emplyr la fossee d'ewe, issi qe nul poeit passer, 
quei pur le marreis, qei pur la fosse. E, outre la fosse, 
firent un palys trobien bataillee ; e uncore puet home 
vere la fosse. 

him ; and he called Fulk, and showed him all the circum- 
stances. Fulk caused to assemble at castle Balaham in 
Pentlyn thirty thousand good men ; and Gwenwynwyn, the 
son of Owen, came with his men, who were strong and bold. 
Fulk was skilful enough in war, and knew well all the 
passes by which it behoved king John to pass. And the 
pass was very narrow, closed in by woods and marshes, 
so that he could pass only by the high way. And the pass 
is called the Ford of Gymele. Fulk and Gwenwynwyn and 
their people came to the pass, and caused a long, deep, and 
broad ditch to be dug across the highway ; and they caused 
the ditch to be filled with water, so that, what for the ditch 
and the marsh, nobody could pass. And beyond the ditch 
they made a defence of pales very well fortified ; and the 
ditch may still be seen. 


Ly roy Johan ou tot son host vynt al gue, e a 
quida passer seurement ; e vyst de la chevalers armes 
plus qe dys mil, qe gardoient le passage. Fouke e 
ces compaignons furent passez le gue par un prive 
chemyn qu'il avoyent feit, e furent de cele part ou le 
roy fust, e Guenonwyn e plusours autres chevalers ou 
eux. Le roy escria Fouke, e les chevalers le roy de 
totes partz assailerent Fouke ; mes molt lur mesavynt, 
qu'il ne le poeynt avenyr si noun par my le frount 
sur la cauce. Fouke e ces compaignons se defendirent 
com lyons, e sovent furent demonteez e sovent re- 
mounteez ; e plusours des chevalers le roy furent ocys ; 
e Guenonwyn fust sorement naufree par my le healme 
en la teste. Quant Fouke veit qu'il ne sa gent ne 

King John with all his army came to the ford, and 
thought to pass it safely ; but they saw on the other side 
more than ten thousand knights in arms, who guarded the 
passage. Fulk and his companions had passed the ford by 
a secret road which they had made, and were on that side 
where the king was, and Gwenwynwyn and many other 
knights with them. The king cried Fulk, and the king's 
knights on all sides assailed Fulk ; but it was much to their 
disadvantage, that they could not come at him except in 
front by the causey. Fulk and his companions defended 
themselves like lions, and were often dismounted and often 
remounted ; and many of the king's knights were slain ; and 
Gwenwynwyn was sorely wounded in the head through the 
healin. When Fulk saw that he and his people could not 


poeynt durer longement dehors lur fosse, si retorne- 
rent par lur prive chemyn, e defendyrent lur palys 
e la fosse ; e des quarels e autres dartz launcerent e 
gitterent a les gentz le roy, e ocistrent grant gentz, 
e naufrerent pueple a demesure. Ceste fere e dure 
medle dura tanqe a seyr. Quant le roy vist tantz de 
ces gentz ocys e naufrez, tant fust dolent ne savoit qey 
fere ; mes se retorna vers Salobures. 

Le roy Johan fust home santz conscience, mavois, 
contrarious, e hay de tote bone gent, e lecherous ; e, 
s'yl poeit oyr de nulle bele dame on damoisele, femme 
ou fyle de counte ou de baron e d'autre, yl la voleyt a 
sa volente aver ; ou par promesse ou par don engyner, 
ou par force ravyr. E pur ce fust le plus hay ; e pur 

long hold out on the outside of their ditch, they returned 
by their secret way, and defended their pales and the ditch, 
and hurled and threw quarels and other darts on the king's 
people, and slew a great number, and wounded people beyond 
measure. This fierce and hard battle lasted till evening. 
When the king saw so many of his people slain and wounded, 
he was so grieved that he knew not what to do ; but he re- 
turned to Shrewsbury. 

King John was a man without conscience, wicked, quar- 
relsome, and hated by all good people, and letcherous ; and 
if he could hear of any handsome lady or damsel, wife or 
daughter of earl or baron or other, he would have her at his 
will ; either seducing her by promise or gift, or ravishing 
her by force. And therefore he was the more hated ; and 


cele encheson plusours grantz seignurs d'Engleterre 
aveyent rendu al roy lur homages ; dont le roy fust le 
meynz dote d'assez. 

Johan Lestraunge, seignour de Knokyn e de Ru- 
tone, se tynt tous jours ou le roy, e fist damage as 
gentz le prince. E pur ce le prince fist abatre le 
chastel de Rutone, e prendre ces gentz e les enpriso- 
ner ; dount Johan fust molt dolent. Le prince vynt al 
chastel Balaham, et apela Fouke, si ly dona e rendy 
tote Blanche-Ville, son herytage, e Estrat, e Dynorben. 
Fouke le mercia molt, e prist ceus qu'il voleyt e s'en 
ala a Blanche-Vyle ; e fist refermer e par tut amender 
le chastiel. 

Johan Lestrange vynt al roy, e ly conta qe Fouke 

for this reason many of the great lords of England had 
thrown up their homages to the king ; for which the king 
was the less feared. 

John Lestrange, lord of Knokyn and of Ruton, held al- 
ways with the king, and did damage to the prince's people. 
And therefore the prince caused the castle of Ruton to be 
demolished, and took his people and imprisoned them ; at 
which John was much grieved. The prince came to castle 
Balaham, and called Fulk, and gave and restored to him all 
White-Town, his inheritance, and Estrat, and Dinorben. 
Fulk thanked him much, and took those he would and went 
to White-Town; and caused the castle to be thoroughly 
fortified and repaired. 

John Lestraiige went to the king, and told him how Fulk 


ly avoit fet grant damage de sa gent e abatu le chas- 
tiel de Rutone ; e pria al roy (quar il fust bien de ly) 
qe yl ly aydast de poer, e yl se vengereit bien de sire 
Fouke e de ces gentz. Le roy apela sire Henre de 
Audelee, qe fust seignour e premer conquerour de le 
chastiel Rous e de 1'onour ; si ly comanda prendre x. 
mil chevalers des plus vaylantz d'Engletere, e qu'il e 
ces chevalers fuissent en totes choses entendauntz a 
sire Johan Lestrange. Sire Henre e sire Johan e lur 
chevalers s'aparillerent vers Blaunche-Ville ; e, en che- 
minant, quanqu'il troverent, homes e femmes, ocis- 
trent, e robberent le pays. Le cry se leva par tot. 
Fouke fust a Blanche- Ville, e tynt yleqe bele com- 
paignee, pur ce qu'il avoyt donqe son novel entre en 

had caused him great loss of his people and demolished his 
castle of Ruton ; and prayed the king (for he was in favour 
with him) that he would aid him with power, and he would 
avenge him effectually on Fulk and his people. The king 
called sir Henry de Audley, who was lord and first conqueror 
of Red Castle and of the honour ; and commanded him to 
take ten thousand knights of the most valiant in England, 
and that he and his knights should be in all things obedient 
to sir John Lestrange. Sir Henry and sir John and their 
knights proceeded towards White-Town ; and, in their pro- 
gress, slew all they found, men and women, and robbed the 
country. The cry was raised everywhere. Fulk was at 
White-Town, and entertained there a fair company, because 
he had then new entry into his lands ; and there were there 


ces terres; e furent ileqe de Gales vij c . chevalers, e 
serjantz plusours. Quant la novele vynt a Fouke qe 
sire Johan e sire Henre vindrent vers ces parties, se 
armerent meyntenant e s'en alerent privement al pas 
de Mudle. E quant sire Johan vist sire Fouke, brocha 
le destrer, sy feri sire Fouke de sa lance, qe ele vola 
en menu pieces. E sire Fouke referi sire Johan en my 
la face par my le healme, qe le coupe tote sa vie fust 
aparisaunt; e sire Johan vola tot plat a terre. Sire 
Johan fust molt vaylant; sayly tost en pies, e s'escria 
molt halt : " Ore, seynours, a Fouke tous !" Fouke re- 
spond cum orgoilous : " Certes," fet-il, " e Fouke a 
tous !" Donqe les chevalers d'ambepartz s'entrefe- 
ryrent. Fouke e sire Thomas Corbet e ces autres com- 

from Wales seven hundred knights, and many Serjeants. 
When the news came to Fulk that sir John and sir Henry 
were approaching those parts, they armed at once and 
went privately to the pass of Mudle. And when sir John 
saw sir Fulk, he spurred his steed, and struck sir Fulk 
with his lance that it flew into little pieces. And sir Fulk 
in return struck sir John in the face through the helm, 
that the blow was apparent all his life; and sir John 
fell all flat on the ground. Sir John was very valiant ; he 
jumped up quickly on his feet, and shouted very loud : 
" Now, lords, all at Fulk !" Fulk replied proudly : "Right," 
said he, "and Fulk at all!" Then the knights on both 
sides encountered each other. Fulk and sir Thomas Corbet 
and his other companions slew many. Alan Fitz Warine 


paignons plusours ocistrent. Aleyn fitz Guaryn c 
Phelip, son frere, furent naufrez. Quant Fouke vist 
ces freres naufrez, a poy qu'il n'enraga (Tyre. Sire 
Fouke se mist en la presse, e quanqu'il ateynt ne puet 
avoir socours de mort. Sire Fouke n'aveit a la jorne 
qe vij c . chevalers, e les autres furent x. myl e pluz ; 
pur quoy Fouke ne poeit veyndre Festour, si se retorna 
vers Blanche- Ville. Sire Audulf de Bracy fust de- 
montee en mi la presse, e molt se defendy hardiement ; 
audreyn fust pris e amenee vers Saloburs. Sire 
Henre e sire Johan furent molt leez de la prise; si 
vyndrent a Salobures devant le roy, e rendirent sire 
Audulf al roy, qe ly aresona molt fierement, e jura 
grant serement qu'il ly freit trayner e pendre, pur ce 

and Philip, his brother, were wounded. When Fulk saw 
his brothers wounded, he went almost mad with rage. Sir 
Fulk put himself in the thick of the fight, and whomever 
he reached, he could have no succour from death. Sir Fulk 
had that day but seven hundred knights, and the others 
were ten thousand and more; wherefore Fulk could not 
conquer in the battle, but returned towards White-Town. 
Sir Audulf de Bracy was dismounted in the press, and de- 
fended himself very courageously ; but at length he was 
taken and carried to Shrewsbury. Sir Henry and sir John 
were very glad of the capture ; and came to Shrewsbury to 
the king's presence, and gave up sir Audulf to the king, who 
questioned him very proudly, and swore a great oath that 
he would have him drawn and hanged, because he was his 


qu'il fust son tray tour e son laroun, e avoit ocys ces 
chevalers, ars ces cites, ces chastels abatuz. Audulf ly 
respondy hardiement, e dit qe unqe ne fust traytour, ne 
nul de son lignage. 

Fouke fust a Blaunche-Ville, e fist laver e mediciner 
ces freres e ces autres gentz. Atant ly sovynt de sire 
Audulf, e le fist quere par tot ; e quant ne poeyt estre 
trovee, yl ne ly quida vere a nul jour, si demena si 
grant duel qe home ne poeit greynour. Atant vynt 
Johan de Rampaygne, e vist Fouke fere tiel duel. 
" Sire," fet-il, "lessez estre ce duel; e, si Dieu plest, 
eynz demayn prime orrez bone novele de sire Audulf 
de Bracy; quar je meismes irroy parler au roy." 

Johan de Rampaygne savoit assez de tabour, harpe, 

traitor and his thief, and had slain his knights, burnt his 
cities, and demolished his castles. Audulf replied to him 
boldly, and said that he was never traitor, nor any of his 

Fulk was at White-Town, and caused his brothers and his 
other people to be washed and doctored. At length he be- 
thought him of sir Audulf, and caused him to be sought 
everywhere ; and when he could not be found, he thought 
he should never see him again, and made so great lamenta- 
tion that one could not do more. At last came John de 
Rampaigne, and saw Fulk making this lamentation. " Sir," 
said he, " leave this mourning ; and, if God please, before 
prime to -morrow you will hear good news of sir Audulf de 
Bracy; for I myself will go and talk with the king." 


viele, sitole, e jogelerie; si se atyra molt richement, 
auxi bien come counte ou baroun. E fist teyndre ces 
chevoyls e tut son corps entierement auxi neyr come 
geet, issi qe rien ne fust blanke si ces dentz noun. 
E fist pendre entour son col un molt beal labour; 
pus monta un beal palefroy, e chevalcha par my la 
vile de Salobures, desqe a la porte du chastiel ; e de 
meynt un fust regarde. Johan vynt devant le rey, 
e se mist a genoylounz, e salua le roy mout cortey- 
sement. Le roy ly rendy ces salutz, e ly demanda dont 
yl estoit. " Sire," fet-yl, " je su un menestral Ethio- 
pien, nee en Ethiopie." Fet le roy : " Sunt touz les 
gentz de vostre terre de vostre colour?" " Oyl, mon 
seignur, home e femme." " Qei dient-yl en estrange 

John de Rampaigne knew enough of tabor, harp, fiddle, 
citole, and jogelery ; and he attired himself very richly, like 
an earl or baron. And he caused his hair and all his body 
to be entirely dyed as black as jet, so that nothing was 
white except his teeth. And he hung round his neck a very 
fair tabor; then mounted a handsome palfrey and rode 
through the town of Shrewsbury to the gate of the castle ; 
and by many a one was he looked at. John came before 
the king, and placed himself on his knees, and saluted the 
king very courteously. The king returned his salutation, 
and asked him whence he was 1 " Sire," said he, " I am an 
Ethiopian minstrel, born in Ethiopia." Said the king : 
" Are all the people in your land of your colour V " Yea, 
my lord, man and woman." " What do they say in foreign 


regneez de moy?" " Sire," fet-yl, " vus estez le plus 
renomee roy de tote la cristienete ; e, pur vostre grant 
renoun, vus su-je venu vere." " Bel sire," fet le roy, 
" bien viegnez." "Sire, mon seignur, grant mercy." 
Johan dist qu'il fust renomee plus pur maveste qe 
bounte j mes le roy ne 1'entendi point. Johan fist le 
jour meynte menestralsie de tabour e d'autre instru- 
mentz. Quant le roy fust alee cocher, sire Henre de 
Audelee fist aler pur le neyr menestral, e le amena en 
sa chambre. E fesoient grant melodic ; e quant sire 
Henre avoit bien beu, donqe dit a un vadlet : " Va 
quere sire Audulf de Bracy, qe le roy velt ocyre de- 
meyn ; quar une bone nutee avera avant sa mort." Le 
vadlet bien tost amena sire Audulf en la chambre. 

realms of me?" "Sire," said he, "you are the most re- 
nowned king of all Christendom ; and, for your great re- 
nown, am I come to see you." " Fair sir," said the king, 
" you are welcome." " Sire, my lord, great thanks." John 
said he was more renowned for wickedness than goodness ; 
but the king heard him not. John during the day made 
great minstrelsy of tabour and other instruments. When 
the king was gone to bed, sir Henry de Audley sent for the 
black minstrel, and led him into his chamber. And they 
made great melody ; and when sir Henry had drunk well, 
then he said to a valet, " Go and fetch sir Audulf de Bracy, 
whom the king will put to death to-morrow ; for he shall 
have a good night of it before his death." The valet soon 
brought sir Audulf into the chamber. Then they talked 


Donqe parlerent e juerent. Johan comenga un chanson 
qe sire Audulf soleit chaunter; sire Audulf leva la 
teste, si ly regarda en my le vys, e a grant peyne le 
conust. Sire Henre demanda a beyvre; Johan fust 
molt servisable, saily legerement en pies, e devant 
tons servy de la coupe. Johan fust coynte ; gitta un 
poudre en la coupe, qe nul ne le apargust, quar yl 
fust bon jogelere; e tous qe burent devyndrent si 
sommylous qe bien tost apres le beyre se cocherent 
dormyr. E quant tuz furent endormys, Johan prist 
un fol qe le roy aveit, si ly mist entre les deus che- 
valers qe devereynt garder sire Audulf. Johan e sire 
Audulf pristrent les tuayles e lintheals qe furent en la 
chambre ; e, par une fenestre devers Salverne, s'escha- 

and played. John commenced a song which sir Audulf 
used to sing; sir Audulf raised his head, looked at him 
full in the face, and with great difficulty recognized him. 
Sir Henry asked for some drink ; John was very serviceable, 
jumped nimbly on his feet, and served the cup before them 
all. John was sly ; he threw a powder into the cup, which 
nobody perceived, for he was a good jogeler; and all who 
drunk became so sleepy that soon after drinking they lay 
down and fell asleep. And when they were all asleep, John 
took a fool whom the king had, and placed him between the 
two knights who had the custody of sir Audulf. John and 
sir Audulf took the towels and sheets which were in the 
chamber; and, by a window towards Severn, escaped and 


perent e s'en alereiit vers Blanche -Ville, qe ert xij. 
lywes de Salobures. 

La chose ne poeit longement estre celee ; quar len- 
demeyn fust tote la verite dite al roy, qe mout fust 
corocee pur 1'eschap. Fouke fust leve matyn lende- 
meyn, quar poy aveit dofmi la nuyt ; si regarda vers 
Salobures, e vist sire Audulf e Johan venyr. Ne fet a 
demaunder s'il fust lee quant il les vist ; si les corust 
enbracer e beysir. II les demanda quele noveles j e 
sire Audulf ly conta coment Johan se contynt e coment 
il eschaperent; dont Fouke, qe eyntz dolent ert, fist 
deduyt e grant joye. 

Ore lessum de Fouke e parloms de dame Mahaud 
de Caus. Quant le roy, qe tant 1' aveit desirree, sa- 

went to White-Town, which was twelve leagues from Shrews- 

The thing could not be long concealed ; for next day the 
whole truth was told to the king, who was much enraged at 
the escape. Fulk had risen early on the morrow, for he had 
slept little during the night; he was looking towards 
Shrewsbury, and saw sir Audulf and John coming. It need 
not be asked if he was glad when he saw them ; he ran to 
embrace and kiss them. He asked them what news; and 
sir Audulf related to him how John had acted and how they 
escaped; on which Fulk, who was before sorrowful, made 
great solace and great joy. 

Now let us leave Fulk and talk of dame Maude de Caus. 
When the king, who had so much lusted for her, knew of a 


voit de verite q'ele fust esposee a sire Fouke, son 
enymy, par le consayl 1'archevesqe Hubert, molt fist 
grant damage a le archevesqe e a la dame ; quar il la 
voleit fere ravyr. E ele fuy a moster, e yleqe fust 
delyvre de une fyle, e 1'archevesqe la baptiza Hau- 
wyse, qe pus fust dame de Wemme. Fouke e ces 
compaignonz vindrent une nuyetee a Caunterbures, e 
amenerent la dame de yleqe a Huggeforde, e demora 
une piece yleqe. Pus avynt qe la dame fust enceinte, 
e fust privement demorant a Albrebures. E le roy la 
fist espier, e ele s'en ala de yleoqe privement a Sa- 
lobures ; e ileqe fust espie, e ele fust si grosse qe ele 
de yleqe ne poeit traviler. E s'en fuy a la eglise 
Nostre-Dame a Salobures ; e ileqe fust delyvre de une 

truth that she was married to sir Fulk, his enemy, by the 
counsel of archbishop Hubert, he did great damage to the 
archbishop and to the lady ; for he wanted to have her car- 
ried off by force. And she fled to the church, and was there 
delivered of a daughter, whom the archbishop baptised by 
the name of Hawise, and who was afterwards lady of Wem. 
Fulk and his companions came one night to Canterbury, and 
conducted the lady from thence to Hugford,and she remained 
awhile there. Then she became again with child, and was 
residing privately at Alberbury. And the king set spies upon 
her, and she went thence privately to Shrewsbury ; and there 
she was followed by the spies, and she was too big to 
support the labour of removing from thence. And she took 
refuge in the church of Our Lady at Shrewsbury ; and was 


file qe fust baptize Johane, qe pus fust mariee a sire 
Henre de Penebmgge. Pus avoit Mahaud un fitz, qe 
fust nee sur un montaigne de Gales, e fust baptizee 
Johan en une russele qe vyent de la fontaigne de 
puceles. La dame e Fenfant furent molt fiebles ; quar 
F enfant nasquist deus moys avaunt son terme. E 
quant 1' enfant fust conferme de evesqe, yl fust apelee 
Fouke. La dame e 1'enfant, qe febles erent, furent 
aporteez de la montaigne a une graunge, qe fust celle 
a Carreganant. 

Quant le roy ne se poeit en nulle manere venger de 
Fouke, ne la dame honyr e prendre, si fist une letre 
al prince Lewys, q'avoit esposee Johane, sa suere, 
e ly pria par amour oster de sa meynee son mortel 

there delivered of a daughter who was baptised Joan, who 
was afterwards married to sir Henry de Pembridge. Subse- 
quently Maude had a son, who was born on a mountain in 
Wales, and was baptised John in a brook which comes from 
the Maidens' well. The lady and the child were very weak ; 
for the child was born two months before its term. And 
when the child was confirmed by the bishop, it was named 
Fulk. The lady and the child, who were weak, were carried 
from the mountain to a grange, which was that at Carre- 

When the king could in nowise avenge himself of Fulk, 
or put the lady to shame and take her, he wrote a letter to 
the prince Lewis, who had married his sister Joan, and 
prayed him out of love to expel from his household his mortal 


enymy e son feloun (ce fust Fouke) ; e yl ly rendroit 
tous les terres qe ces ancestres aveyent unqe prises 
de sa seignurye, a teles qu'il ly fesoit avoir le cors 
Fouke. Le prince apela en sa cambre Johane, sa feme, 
e la mostra la lettre qe le roy son frere ly avoit maun- 
dee. Quant la dame avoit oy la letre, manda prive- 
ment a sire Fouke tot le tenour e qe le roy velt acor- 
deer a son seignur. Quant Fouke oy la novele, molt 
fust dolent e se dota de tresoun; si maunda dame 
Mahaud par Baudwyn de Hodenet privement a 1'evesqe 
de Canterbures, e assygna Baudwyn de venyr a ly a 
Dovere. Fouke e ces quatre frere e Audulf e Johan de 
Rampaygne se armerent tot a talent, e lur autres gentz 
vindrent al chastiel Balaha devant le prince. " Sire," 

enemy and his felon (that was, Fulk) ; and he would restore 
to him all the lands which his ancestors had ever taken from 
his lordship, on condition that he should cause him to have 
the body of Fulk. The prince called into his chamber 
Joan, his wife, and showed her the letter which the king her 
brother had sent him. When the lady had heard the letter, 
she sent privately to sir Fulk all the tenor of it and that the 
king wanted to accord with her lord. When Fulk heard 
this news, he was much grieved and feared treason ; he sent 
dame Maude by Baldwin de Hodnet privately to the bishop 
of Canterbury, and assigned Baldwin to come to him at 
Dover. Fulk and his four brothers and Audulf and John 
de Rampaigne armed themselves at their will, and their 
other people, and came to castle Balaha before the prince. 

i 2 


fet Fouke, "je vus ay servy a mon poer lealment; 
mes ore, sire, ne siet-um a qy affyer; quar, pur la 
grant promesse le roy, me volez-vus gerpyr. E le roy 
vus ad maundee une lettre, laquele, sire, vus avez celee 
de moy ; dount, sire, je me doute le plus." " Fouke," 
fet le prince, " demorez ou moy; quar, certes, ne le 
pensay de vus fere tresoun." " Certes, sire," fet 
Fouke, " je le crey molt bien; mes, sire, je ne remeyn- 
droy en nulle manere." E prist conge de le prince e 
de tous ces compaygnons. De yleqe tant erra nuyt e 
jour qu'il vynt a Dovre ; e yleqe encontra Baudwyn, qe 
la dame mena a 1'archevesqe. E se mistrent en meer, 
e aryverent a Whytsond. 

Fouke e ces freres e ces autres compaignouns, quant 

" Sire," said Fulk, " I have served you to my power loyally; 
but now, sir, one knows not in whom to put trust; for, in 
return for the king's great promise, you intend to desert me. 
And the king has sent you a letter, which, sir, you have 
concealed from me; wherefore, sir, I fear the more." 
" Fulk," said the prince, " remain with me ; for, truly, I 
had no thought of committing treason against you." " Truly, 
sir," said Fulk, " I believe it full well; but, sir, I will not 
remain in any wise." And he took leave of the prince and 
of all his companions. From thence he wandered so day 
and night that he came to Dover ; and there he met Bald- 
win, who had conducted the lady to the archbishop. And 
they put themselves to sea, and arrived at Whitsand. 
Fulk and his brothers and his other companions, when 


vyndrent a Parys, si vyrent le roy Phelip de Fraunce, 
qe fust venuz as champs pur vere ces chevalers de 
Fraunce jostier. Fouke fust uncore mu, e ces com- 
paignons ensement ; quant vyrent tant beal assemble, 
demorerent pur vere les jostes. Quant les FraunQoys 
virent chevalers d'Engleterre, se penerent molt le plus 
de bien fere. Donqe sire Druz de Montbener, un molt 
orgoilouse Franceys, maunda a sire Fouke e ly pria 
joster ou ly; si Fouke meyntenaunt ly granta sa re- 
queste. Fouke e ces freres se armerent e monterent 
les bons destrers. Johan de Rampaigne fust molt ri- 
chement atyree e bien mountee; e si avoit un molt 
riche labour, e fery le tabour al entre des renks, dont 
les montz e les vals rebondyrent e les chyvals s'en- 

they came to Paris, saw king Philip of France, who was 
come to the fields to see the knights of France joust. Fulk 
remained silent, and so did his companions ; when they 
saw so fair an assemblage, they remained to see the jousts. 
When the French saw the knights of England, they la- 
boured much the more to do well. Then sir Druz de Mont- 
bener, a very proud Frenchman, sent to sir Fulk and asked 
him to joust with him ; and Fulk immediately granted him 
his request. Fulk and his brothers armed and mounted 
their good steeds. John de Rampaigne was very richly 
attired and well mounted ; and he had a very rich tabor, 
and he struck the tabor at the entrance of the lists, that 
the hills and valleys rebounded and the horses became joy- 
ful. When the king saw sir Fulk armed, he said to sir 


jolyverent. Quant le roy vist sire Fouke armee, si 
dist a sire Druz de Montbener : " Avyseez-vus bien ; 
quar cely chevaler engleys est molt pruz e vaylant, e ce 
piert bien." " Sire," fet-yl, " n'y a chevaler en tot le 
mond qe je n'osase bien encontrer, al chyval ou a pee, 
cors contre cors." " De par Dieu !" fet le roy. Fouke 
e sire Druz brocherent les destrers e s'entre-feryrent. 
Fouke ly fery de sa launce par my Peschu e pierQa le 
bon hauberke, e par my 1'espaudle, qe la lance vola en 
pieces ; e sire Druz chey tut plat a terre. Fouke prist 
le chyval sire Druz ; sy Vamena e le manda en present 
a sire Druz, quar sire Fouke n'avoit cure a detenir le 
chyval. Atant vynt un chevaler franceis, qe a son 
vueyl voleit venger sire Druz; sy fery Fouke de sa 

Druz de Montbener : " Be on your guard ; for this English 
knight is very able and valiant, and this is very apparent." 
"Sire," said he, "there is not a knight in all the world 
whom I dare not encounter, on horse or on foot, body 
against body." " God be with you !" said the king. Fulk 
and sir Druz spurred their steeds and encountered each 
other. Fulk struck him with his lance in the middle of the 
shield and pierced his good hauberc, and through the 
shoulder, that the lance flew in pieces ; and sir Druz fell all 
flat on the ground. Fulk took the horse of sir Druz ; he led 
it away, and sent it as a present to sir Druz, for sir Fulk 
had no desire to keep the horse. At last came a French 
knight, who volunteered to avenge sir Druz ; he struck Fulk 
with his lance in the middle of the shield, that his lauce 


launce par my Pescu, qe sa launce depessa. Fouke le 
refery en my le healme, qe sa lance tote defruscha ; e 
le chevaler voida les argons, volsist ou noun. Les 
frere Fouke e ces compaignons furent prestz a joster; 
mes la roy ne le voleyt sofryr. Le roy vynt poignant 
a Fouke, e ly dyt : " Chevaler engleys, seiez benet ; 
quar trop bien avez fet." E ly pria demorer ou ly. 
Fouke mercia molt le roy, e ly granta de estre a sa 
volente. Fouke le jour de meynt un fust regardee, 
alowe, e preysee par tot. Fouke avoit tele grace qu'il 
ne vynt unqe en nul lyu ou hardiesse, chevalerie, prou- 
esse, ou bountee fust, qu'il ne fust tenuz le meylour e 
santz pier. 

Fouke demora ou le roy Phelip de Fraunce, e fast 

broke. Fulk returned the blow in the middle of his helm, 
that he all bruised his lance ; and the knight quitted his 
saddle, whether he would or not. Fulk's brothers and his 
companions were ready to joust ; but the king would not 
sufler it. The king came pricking to Fulk, and said to 
him : " English knight, God bless you ; for you have de- 
meaned yourself right well." And he invited him to remain 
with him. Fulk thanked the king much, and consented to 
be at his will. Fulk that day was of many a one regarded, 
praised, and esteemed everywhere. Fulk had such favour 
that he came never to any place where courage, knight- 
hood, prowess, or goodness was, that he was not held the 
best and without equal. 

Fulk remained with king Philip of France, and was loved 


amee e honoree de l[e] roy e la roigne e totes bone 
gentz. Le roy ly demanda quel noun avoit; Fouke 
dit qu'il fust apelee Amys del Boys. " Sire Amys," fet 
le roy, " conussez-vus Fouke le fitz Warin, de qy urn 
parle grant bien partut?" " Oil, sire," fet-il, " je 1'ay 
sovent veu." " De quel estature est-il ?" "Sire, a 
mon entendement, de meisme 1'estature qe je suy." 
Fet le roy, " Yl puet bien, quar vaylantz estes ambe- 
deus." Fouke ne poeit oir de mil tornoy ne jostes par 
tute France qu'il ne voleyt estre ; e par tot fust pryse, 
amee, e honoree, pur sa proesse e sa largesse. 

Quant le roy d'Engleterre savoit qe sire Fouke fust 
demorant ou le roy Phelip de Fraunce, manda al roy 
e ly pria, si ly plust, qu'il volsist oster de sa meynee 

and honoured by the king and the queen and all good peo- 
ple. The king asked him what was his name ; Fulk said 
that he was called Amis du Bois. " Sir Amis," said the 
king, " do you know Fulk Fitz Warine, of whom they say 
much good every where ?" " Yes, sire," said he, " I have 
often seen him." " Of what stature is he ?" " Sire, to my 
estimation, he is of the same stature as I am." Said the 
king, " It may well be, for you are both valiant." Fulk 
could hear of no tournament or jousts in all France but he 
would be there ; and everywhere he was prized, loved, and 
honoured, for his prowess and his liberality. 

When the king of England knew that sir Fulk was resid- 
ing with king Philip of France, he sent to the king and 
prayed him, if he pleased, that he would expel from his 


e de sa retenance Fouke le fitz Guarin, son enymy 
mortel. Quant le roi de France avoit oy la letre, si 
dist par seint Denys qe nul tiel chevaler fust de sa 
retenance; e tiele respounce manda al roy d'Engle- 
tere. Quant sire Fouke avoit oy cele novele, vynt al 
roy de Fraunce e demanda congie de aler. Fet le roy : 
" Ditez-moy si nulle chose vus faut, e je hautement 
fray fere les amendes pur quoy volez departir de 
moy." " Sire/' fet-yl, " je ay oy teles noveles par ont 
me covyent partir a force." E par cele parole en- 
tendy le roy qu'il fust Fouke. Fet le roy : " Sire Amys 
de Boys, je quid qe vns estez Fouke le fitz Waryn." 
" Certes, mon seignur, oyl." Fet le roy : " Vus de- 
morrez ou moy, e je vus dorroy plus riches terres qe 

household and from his suite Fulk Fitz Warine, his mortal 
enemy. When the king of France had heard the letter, he 
declared by St. Denis that no such knight was in his rete- 
nance ; and this was the answer he sent to the king of Eng- 
land. When sir Fulk heard this news, he came to the king 
of France and asked leave to go. Said the king, " Tell me 
if anything is wanting to you, and I will cause full amends 
to be made for anything that gives you cause to leave me." 
" Sire," said he, " I have heard such news as compels me to 
go." And by this speech the king understood that he was 
Fulk. Said the king : " Sir Amis du Bois, I think that you 
are Fulk Fitz Warine." " Truly, my lord, yes." Said the 
king : " You shall dwell with me, and I will give you richer 
lands than ever you had in England." " Truly, sire," said 


vus unqe n'avyez en Engleterre." " Certes, sire," 
fet-il, "yl n'est pas digne de receyvre terres de autruy 
doun, que les suens de dreit heritage ne puet tenir a 

Fouke prist congie de le roy, e vynt a la mer ; e 
vist les nefs rioter en la mer, e nul vent fust vers 
Engletere, e le temps fust assez bel. Fouke vist un 
maryner, qe sembla hardy e feer; e le apela a ly e 
dit : " Bel sire, est ceste nef la vostre ?" " Sire," fet- 
il, " oyl." " Q'est vostre noun ?" " Sire," fet-il, " Ma- 
dor del Mont de Russie, ou je nasqui." " Mador," 
fet Fouke, " savez-vus bien cest mester e amener gentz 
par mer en diverse regions?" "Certes, sire, yl n'y 
ad terree renomee par la cristienete qe je ne saveroy 

he, " he is not worthy to receive lands of another's gift, who 
cannot hold rightfully those which are his own by direct 

Fulk took leave of the king, and came to the sea ; and he 
saw the ships afloat on the sea, and no wind was towards 
England, though the weather was fair enough. Fulk saw 
a mariner, who seemed bold and courageous, and he called 
him to him and said : " Fair sir, is this ship yours ?" " Sir," 
said he, "yes." " What is your name ?" " Sir," said he, 
" Mador of the mount of Russia, where I was born." 
" Mador," said Fulk, " do you know well this business, and 
to carry people by sea into divers regions ?" " Truly, sir, 
there is not a land of any renown in Christendom whither 
I could not conduct a ship well and safely." " Truly," said 


bien e salvement mener nef." " Certes," fet Fouke, 
" molt avez perilous mester. Dy-moi, Mador, bel douz 
frere, de quel mort morust ton pere ?" Mador ly res- 
pond qe neyeez fust en la mer. " Coment ton ael?" 
" Ensement." " Coment ton besael ?" " En meisme la 
manere ; e tous mes parentz qe je sache, tanqe le quart 
degree." " Certes," dit Fouke, "molt estes fol hardys 
qe vus osez entrer la mer." " Sire," fet-il, " pour quoy ? 
Chescune creature avera la mort qe ly est destinee. 
Sire," fet Mador, " si vus plest, responez a ma de- 
maunde : Ou morust ton pere ?" " Certes, en son lyt." 
" Ou son ael ?" " Einsement." " Ou vostre besael ?" 
" Certes, trestous qe je sai de mon lignage morurent en 
lur lytz." " Certes, sire," fet Mador, " depus qe tot 

Fulk, "you have a very perilous occupation. Tell me, 
Mador, fair sweet brother, of what death died thy father V 
Mador replied to him that he was drowned in the sea. 
" How thy grandfather 1" " The same." " How thy great- 
grandfather 1" "In the same manner; and all my rela- 
tions that I know to the fourth degree." " Truly," said 
Fulk, "you are very fool-hardy that you dare go to sea." 
" Sir," said he, "wherefore ? Every creature will have the 
death which is destined for him. Sir," said Mador, "if you 
please, answer my question : where did thy father die V 
" Truly, in his bed." " Where thy grandfather ?" " The 
same." "Where your great-grandfather?" "Truly, all 
of my lineage that I know died in their beds." " Truly, 
sir," said Mador, " since all your lineage died in beds, I 


vostre lignage morust en litz, j'ay grant merveille qe 
vus estes osee d'entrer nul lyt." E donqe entendy 
Fouke qe ly mariner ly out verite dit, qe chescun home 
avera mort tiele come destinee ly est, e ne siet le quel, 
en terre ou en ewe. 

Fouke parla a Mador, qe savoit la manere des nefs, 
e ly pria pur amur e pur du suen, qu'il ly volsist de- 
vyser e ordyner une neef; e il mettreit les costages. 
Mador ly granta. La neef fust fete en une foreste de- 
leez la mer, solum le devys Mador en tous poyntz, e 
totes cordes e autres herneis quanqe apendeit, si bien 
e si richement q'a merveille ; e fust a demesure bien 
vitaillee. Fouke e ces freres e sa meysne se mistrent 
en la mer, e acosterent Engleterre. Adonqe vist Mador 

marvel greatly that you have dared to go into any bed." 
And then Fulk perceived that the mariner had told him 
the truth, that every man shall have such death as is 
destined for him, and he knows not which, on land or in 

Fulk spoke to Mador, who knew the manner of ships, 
and prayed him for love and for money that he would 
devise and ordain a ship, and he would pay the costs. 
Mador agreed to it. The ship was made in a forest beside 
the sea, according to the design of Mador in all points, and 
all the ropes and other furniture that belonged to it, so 
well and so richly as was wonderful ; and it was exceedingly 
well provisioned. Fulk and his brothers and his men put 
to sea, and coasted England. Then saw Mador a ship well 


une neef bien batailee venant vers eux ; e quant les 
neefs s'aprochierent, un chevaler parla a Mador e dit : 
" Danz maryner, a qy e dount est cele neef qe vus 
guyez ? quar nulle tiele n'est custumere de passer par 
ycy." " Sire," fet Mador, " c'est la moye." " Par 
foy!" fet le chevaler, "noun est; vus estes larounz, e 
je le say bien par le veyl quartronee q'est des armes 
Fouke le fitz Waryn ; e il est en la neef, e eynz huy 
rendroi-je son corps a roy Johan." " Par foy !" fet 
Fouke, "nounfreez; mes si rien desirrez de nostre, 
vus le averez volenters." "Je averei," fet-il, "vus 
tous e quanqe vus avez, estre vostre gree." " Par 
foy !" fet Fouke, " vus y menterez." Mador, qe bon e 
hardy maryner fust, lessa sa neef sigler ; si trespersa 

fitted for fighting coming towards them ; and when the 
ships approached each other, a knight spoke to Mador and 
said : " Master mariner, whose is that ship which is in your 
governance? for none such is accustomed to pass here." 
" Sir," said Mador, " it is mine." " Faith !" said the knight, 
"it is not; you are thieves, and I know it well by the 
quartering of the sail, which is the arms of Fulk Fitz 
Warine ; and he is in the ship, and before to-day is past I 
will deliver his body to king John." " Faith !" said Fulk, 
"you will not do so; but if you desire anything of ours, 
you shall have it willingly." "I will have," said he, "you 
all, and whatever you have, in spite of you." " Faith !" said 
Fulk, " you shall be proved a liar." Mador, who was a good 
and bold mariner, let his ship sail ; and he run right into the 


1'autre neef tot par my, dont la mer entra. E si fust la 
neef pery ; mes eynz y out meint dur coupe donee. E 
quant la neef fust vencue, Fouke e ces compaignons 
pristrent grant richesse e vitaille, e aporterent en lur 
neef. Atant perist e enfoundry 1'autre neef. 

Fouke tot eel an entier demora costeant par Engle- 
terre ; e a nul home ne voleit fere mal, si noun al roy 
Johan; e sovent prist son aver e quant qu'il poeit del 
suen. Fouke comen9a sigler vers Escoce; atant lur 
vynt de le Occident un vent favonyn, e lur cliaga treis 
jorneez de la Escoce. Atant virent un yle molt de- 
litable e bel, a ce qe lur fust avys, e se trestrent 
laundreit, e troverent bon port. Fouke e ces quatre 
freres e Audulf e Baudwyn alerent en la terre pur 

middle of the other ship, so that the sea entered it. And 
thus the ship perished ; but many a hard blow was given 
first. And when the ship was conquered, Fulk and his 
companions took great riches and provisions, and brought 
it into their ship. At last the other ship perished and 

Fulk all that whole year continued coasting England; 
and he desired to injure nobody but king John; and he 
often took his goods, and whatever he could get of his. 
Fulk began to sail towards Scotland; at last there came 
from the west a favonine wind, which drove them three 
days from Scotland. At length they saw an island that was 
very pleasant and fair, as they judged, and they proceeded 
to it, and found good port. Fulk and his four brothers and 


vere le pays e vitailler lur neef. Atant virent un ju- 
ve[n]cel gardant berbis ; e quant vist les chevalers, 
s'en ala vers eux e les salua de un latyn corumpus. 
Fouke ly demanda s'il savoit nulle viande a vendre en 
le pais. " Certes, sire," fet-il, "nanil; quar c'est une 
yle q'est habile de nule gent, si noun de poy, e cele 
gent vivent de lur bestes. Mes si vus plest venir ou 
moy, tele viaunde come j'ay averez volenters." Fouke 
le mercia e ala ou ly; le vadlet lur mena par une 
caverne desoutz terre, qe fust molt bele, e lur fist seer 
e lur fist assez bel semblant. " Sire," fet le vadlet, 
"j'ay un serjant en la montaigne ; ne vus peise si je 
corne pur ly; e bien tost mangeroms." "De par 

Audulf and Baldwin went on land to observe the country 
and to victual their ship. At last they saw a lad keeping 
sheep ; and when he saw the knights, he went forwards to 
them and saluted them in a corrupt Latin. Fulk asked him 
if he knew of any meat to sell in the country. " Truly, 
sir," said he, " no ; for it is an isle which is inhabited by no 
people, except a few, and these people live by their beasts. 
But if you please to come with me, such meat as I have you 
shall have willingly." Fulk thanked him, and went with 
him; the youth led them into a cavern under ground, 
which was very fair, and made them be seated, and showed 
them good countenance enough. " Sir," said the youth, 
" I have a servant in the mountain ; be not annoyed if I 
sound the horn for him ; and we will soon eat." " In God's 


Dieu !" fet Fouke. Le juvencel ala dehors le caverne, 
e corna sys meotz, e revynt en la caverne. 

Bien tost vindrent sis gros e grantz vilaynz e fers, 
vestuz de grosse e vyls tabertz, e chescun avoit en sa 
meyn un gros bastoun dur e fort. E quant Fouke 
les vist, si avoit suspecion de maveste. Les sis vyleinz 
entrerent une chambre, e osterent lur tabertz, e se 
vestirent de un escarlet vert e sodlies d'orfreez; e de 
tous atirs furent auxi richement atireez come nul roy 
poeit estre. E revyndrent en la sale, e saluerent sire 
Fouke e ces compaignonz ; e demanderent les eschetz, 
e um lur porta un molt riche eschecker ou meyne 
de fyn or e argent. Sire Willam assist un geu ; mes 
il le perdy meyntenant. Sire Johan assist un autre ; 

name, let it be so !" said Fulk. The lad went outside the 
cavern, blew six moots, and returned into the cavern. 

Soon there came six great and tall clowns and fierce, clad 
in coarse and filthy tabards, and each had in his hand a 
great staff which was hard and strong. And when Fulk saw 
them, he had suspicion of their ill designs. The six clowns 
entered a chamber, and put off their tabards, and dressed 
themselves in a green scarlet and shoes of orfrey ; and in all 
articles of dress they were as richly attired as any king 
could be. And they returned to the hall, and saluted sir 
Fulk and his companions, and there was brought to them a 
very rich chessboard with chessmen of fine gold and silver. 
Sir William sat to a game ; but he lost it immediately. Sir 
John sat to another ; it was immediately lost. Philip, Alan, 


meintenant fust perdu. Phelip, Aleyn, Baudwyn, e 
Audulf, chescun apres autre, assist un giw, e chescun 
perdy le suen. Donqe dit un des plus fers berchers a 
Fouke, "Volez-vus juer?" " Nanyl," fet-il. " Par 
foil" fet le bercher, "vus juerez ou luttrez, malgre le 
vostre." " Par foil" fet Fouke, "maveys vileyn ber- 
cher, vus y mentez ; e, depus qe je dey luttre ou juer 
malgre mien, je jueroy ou vus en la manere qe j'ay 
apris." Si sayly sus, haunga 1'espee, si ly fery qe la 
teste vola en my la place ; pus un autre, pus le tierce, 
issi qe Fouke e ces compaignouns ocistrent tous les 
vileynz glotouns. 

Fouke en une chambre entra, e trova une vele seant ; 
e avoit un corn en sa meyn, e sovent le mist a sa 

Baldwin, and Audulf, one after the other, sat to a game, and 
each lost his game. Then said one of the fiercest of the 
shepherds to Fulk, " Will you play ?" " No," said he. 
" Faith !" said the shepherd, "you shall play or wrestle, in 
spite of your will." " Faith !" said sir Fulk, " wretched 
clown of a shepherd, you lie in that ; and, since I must 
wrestle or play in spite of my will, I will play with you in 
the manner I have learnt." And he jumped up, drew his 
sword, and struck him with it that his head flew into the 
middle of the place; then another, then the third, until 
Fulk and his companions slew all the clownish rascals. 

Fulk entered a chamber, and found an old woman seated ; 
and she had a horn in her hand, and often put it to her 



bouche ; mes ele ne le poeit de rien corner. Quant ele 
vist Fouke, ly cria merci; e il la demanda dont le 
Corn servireit, si ele le poeit corner. La viele ly dist 
qe, si le corn fust cornee, socours lur vendreit a 
plente. Fouke le corn prist, e en une autre chambre 
se mist. Donqe vist sect damoiseles, qe a demesure 
furent beles ; e molt richement furent vestues, e molt 
riche oevre fesoient. E quant virent Fouke, a genoyls 
se mistrent, e ly crierent merci. Fouke lur demanda 
dont il estoient; e la une ly dyt : " Sire," fet[-ele], 
"je su la fyle Aunflorreis de Orkanye; e mon seignur 
demorant a un son chastiel en Orkanie, q'est apelee 
chastel Bagot, qu'est sur la mer, deleez une molt 
bele foreste, avynt qe je e ces damoiseles, a quatre 

mouth ; but she could not blow it at all. When she saw 
Fulk, she cried for mercy ; and he asked her what use the 
horn would be, if she could sound it. The old woman told 
him that, if the horn were sounded, succour would coine to 
her in abundance. Fulk took the horn, and passed into an- 
other chamber. Then he saw seven damsels, who were 
wonderfully beautiful ; and they were very richly dressed, 
and were working very rich work. And when they saw 
Fulk, they threw themselves on their knees, and cried him 
mercy. Fulk asked them whence they were ; and one said 
to him : " Sir," said she, " I am the daughter of Aunflorreis 
of Orkney ; and my lord dwelling in a castle of his in Ork- 
ney, which is called castle Bagot, and is on the sea, beside 
a very fair forest, it happened that I and these damsels, 


chevalers e autres, entrames un batil en la mer, si 
alames deduyre. Atant survyndrent les seet fitz la 
vele de seynz, ou lur compagnie, en une neef; si 
ocistrent tous nos gentz, e mis amenerent sa, e si 
ount desole nos corps, estre nostre gree, Dieu le siet; 
dont nus prioms en le noun Dieu, en qy vus creez, 
qe vus nus aidez de ceste cheytyvetee, si vus poez de 
cy eschaper; quar je vey bien, par vostre semblant, 
qe vus n'estez mie de ce pays menant." Fouke con- 
forta les damoyseles, e dyt qu'il les aydera a son poer. 
Fouke e ces compaignons troverent grant richesse, 
vitaille, e armure ; e ileqe trova Fouke le haubergon 
qu'il tynt si riche e qe molt ama, qu'il soleit user 
privement, qu'il ne voleit en tote sa vie pur nul aver 
vendre ne doner. 

with four knights and others, entered a boat in the sea, and 
went to solace ourselves. At last came upon us the seven 
sons of the old woman within, with their company, in a 
ship ; and they slew all our people, and brought us hither, 
and have dishonoured our bodies, against our will, God 
knows ; wherefore we pray in the name of God, in whom 
you believe, that you will help us from this captivity, if you 
can escape hence ; for I see well, by your appearance, that 
you are not dwellers in this country." Fulk comforted the 
damsels, and said that he would aid them to his power. 
Fulk and his companions found great riches, victual, and 
armour, and there Fulk found the haubergeon, which he 
held so rich and which he loved so much, which he used to 

K 2 


Fouke richement garny sa neef ; e arnena les damoi- 
seles a sa neef, e les eesa en quanqu'il poeit. E pus 
comanda totes ces gentz qu'il se armassent hastive- 
ment; e quant tous furent armeez a volente, donqe 
leva Fouke la menee de le petit corn qu'il avoit pris 
de la vele, e donqe vindrent corantz par les champs 
plus qe deus c. des larons de la countree. Fouke e 
sa compagnie les corurent sur, e yl se defendyrent 
vigerousement. Yleqe furent ocys plus qe ii c . des rob- 
beours e larouns ; quar yl n'y avoyt nulle gent en tote 
cele yle si robbeours e larouns noun, qe soleynt ocire 
quanqu'il porreynt ateyndre e prendre par mer. Fouke 
demanda Mador sy ly savoit amener par mer en le 

use privately, and which he would not in all his life for 
any consideration sell or give. 

Fulk furnished his ship richly ; and carried the damsels 
to his ship, and made them as much at their ease as he 
could. And then he commanded all his people to arm in 
haste ; and when they were all armed at will, then Fulk 
raised the hue and cry with the little horn which he had 
taken from the old woman, and then there came running 
over the fields more than two hundred of the thieves of the 
country. Fulk and his company run at them, and they 
defended themselves vigorously. There were slain more 
than two hundred of the robbers and thieves ; for there was 
no people in all that island but robbers and thieves, who 
used to slay all they could reach or take by sea. Fulk 
asked Mador if he knew how to conduct him by sea into the 


realme qe um apele Orkanie. " Oyl, certes," fet-il; 
" ce n'est qe un isle, e le chastel Bagot est molt pres 
de le port." Fouke dit: "A eel chastiel vodrey-je 
estre." " Sire, eynz huy vus y serrez." Quant Fouke 
fust aryvee, dont demanda les damoyseles sy yl aveyent 
conisance de le pais. " Certes, sire," fetlaune, " c'est 
le realme Aunflour mon piere." Fouke vynt al chas- 
tiel, e rendy al roy sa fyle e les damoyseles ; e il a 
grant honour les regust, e dona a Fouke riche douns. 

Fouke ad tant siglee, pur vere merveilles e aven- 
tures, qu'il ad envyronee les vii. yles de le Occean, 
la Petite-Bretaygne, Yrlande, Gutlande, Norweye, 
Denemarche, Orkanye, la Graimde-Eschanye. En Es- 
chanye ne nieynt nul home, fors serpentz e autres 

realm which they call Orkney. " Yes, truly," said he; "it 
is but an isle; and castle Bagot is very near the port." 
Fulk said : " At that castle would I be." " Sir, within this 
day you shall be there." When Fulk was arrived, then he 
asked the damsels if they had knowledge of the country. 
" Truly, sir," said the one, " this is the realm of Aunflour 
my father." Fulk came to the castle, and restored to the 
king his daughter and the damsels; and he received them 
with great honour, and gave Fulk rich gifts. 

Fulk has sailed so much, to see marvels and adventures, 
that he has gone round the seven isles of the ocean, Little 
Britain, Ireland, Gothland, Norway, Denmark, Orkney, and 
Great Eschanie. In Eschanie dwells no man, but serpents 
and other foul beasts. And there Fulk saw horned ser- 


lede bestes. E la vist Fouke serpentz cornuez, e les 
corns furent molt aguz; e si ount iiii. peez, e sunt 
volantz come oysels. Un tel serpent asayly Fouke 
e ly fery de son corn, e trespe^a son escu par my. 
Fouke s'en mervila molt de le coupe ; e se avysa molt 
bien qe, quant le serpent ly fery en 1'escu, ne poeit 
hastivement dely verer son corn ; e Fouke le bota par 
my le cuer de son espee. Ileqe vist Fouke beste ver- 
minouse q'avoit teste de mastyn, barbe epees come 
chevre, oreiles come de levre ; e autres plusors bestes 
qe seint Patrik encha9a d'Yrlande, e les encloyst ileqe 
par la vertu de Dieu ; quar le prodhome seint Patrik 
fust bien de ly. E uncore nulle beste venymouse ne 
habite la terre d'Yrlande, si noun lesartes descowes. 

pents, and the horns were very sharp-pointed; and they 
have four feet, and fly like birds. One of these serpents 
assailed Fulk, and struck him with his horn, and pierced 
through his shield in the middle. Fulk wondered much at 
the blow ; and he perceived very well that, when the serpent 
struck him in the shield, he could not quickly withdraw his 
horn; and Fulk stabbed him through the heart with his 
sword. Then saw Fulk a venomous animal which had the 
head of a mastiff, a thick beard like a goat, and ears like a 
hare ; and many other animals which St. Patrick drove out 
of Ireland, and inclosed them there through the virtue of 
God; for the good man St. Patrick was in favour with him. 
And still no venomous animal inhabits the land of Ireland, 
except lizards without tails. 


Fouke vet siglant vers le north par la mer occian, 
outre Orkanye, si trova tant de freydure e gelee, qe 
home ne poeit la freidure durer, ne la nef en la mer 
pur la gelee ne poeit avant passer. Fouke se retorna 
vers Engleterre. Atant vynt une molt hydouse tem- 
peste, dont trestous quidoient pur la tempeste moryr, 
e il crierent devoutement a Dieu e a seint Clement 
qu'il lur delyvrast del torment. Ceste tempeste lur 
durra xv. jours. Donqe vyrent terre, mes ne savoient 
quele. Fouke s'en ala a terre, e vist un chastiel molt 
biel. II entra le chastel, quar la porte fust deferme, e 
ne trova leynz honme ne beste vivant, ne en tot le pays. 
E s'en merveila molt qe si bel lu fust de nully habitee. 
Revynt a sa neef, si le counta a sa meyne. " Sire," fet 

Fulk goes sailing towards the north over the ocean sea, 
beyond Orkney, and found so much cold and ice, that one 
could not endure the cold, nor could the ship pass forward 
in the sea for the ice. Fulk turned back towards England. 
At length came a very hideous tempest, whereby all ex- 
pected to perish by the tempest, and they cried devoutly to 
God and St. Clement to be delivered from the storm. This 
tempest lasted them fifteen days. They then saw land, but 
knew not what. Fulk went ashore, and saw a very fair 
castle. He entered the castle, for the gate was unclosed, 
and he found within neither man nor beast living, nor in 
all the country. And he wondered much that so fair a 
place should be inhabited by no one. He returned to his 
ship, and told it to his company. "Sir," said Mador, "let 


Mador, "lessum si la neef e aloms tous a terre, estre 
ceux qe garderount nostre vitaile; e bien tost par 
aventure orroms par ascun coment il est de cet pays." 
Quant vindrent a la terre, encontrerent un pesant. 
Mador ly demanda quele terre ce fust, e coment apelee, 
e pur quoy n'est habitee. Ly pesant lur dyt qe " c'est 
le reygne de Yberye, e cest pays est apellee Cartage. 
Cest chastiel est al due de Cartage, qe tient de le roy 
de Yberye. Cesti due avoit une file, la plus bele pucele 
qe um savoit en le regne de Yberye. Cele damoisele 
mounta un jour le mestre tour de cest chastel. Atant 
vynt un dragoun volaunt, e prist la damoisele, e la 
porta sur un haut mount en la mer, si la manga. Cesti 
dragoun ad ocys e destrut tot cet pays; pur qy nul 

us leave the ship and go ashore, except those who shall 
guard our provisions ; and soon, perhaps, we shall hear from 
somebody what is the matter with this country." When 
they came on shore, they met a peasant. Mador asked him 
what land it was, and how it was named, and why it was 
not inhabited. The peasant told them that " it is the king- 
dom of Iberie, and this country is called Cartage. This 
castle belongs to the duke of Cartage, who holds of the king 
of Iberie. This duke had a daughter, the fairest maiden 
that one knew in the kingdom of Iberie. This damsel 
mounted one day the principal tower of the castle. Then 
came a flying dragon, and took the damsel, and carried 
her to a high mountain in the sea, and ate her. This 
dragon has slain and destroyed all this country ; on which 


home n'est osee cet pays habiter, ne le due n'est osee 
cet chastel entrer, tant est hydous le dragoun." 

Fouke se retorna a sa galye, e siglerent avant. 
Donqe virent un grant mont en la mer. " Sire," fet 
Mador, " c'est le mont ou meynt le dragon ; ja sumes- 
nus tons en grant peril !" " Tes-tey," fet Fouke, " un- 
core ne veiez si bien noun. Dantz Mador, volez estre 
mort de poour ? Meynt dragon avoms veu, e Dieu nus 
ad bien de peril delyvere. Unqe ne fumes uncore en 
peryl dont, la merci Dee, n'avoms bien eschape. 
Vostre maveis confort mettreit coars a la mort." Fouke 
prist Audulf de Bracy, e par degrees monta le mont, qe 
bien haut ert ; e quant vindrent al somet de le mont, 
virent meint bon hauberc, healmes e espeiez e autres 

account no man has dared to inhabit the country, nor has 
the duke dared to enter this castle, the dragon is so hideous." 
Fulk returned to his galley, and sailed forward. Then 
they saw a great mountain in the sea. " Sir," said Mador, 
"it is the mountain where the dragon dwells ; now we are 
all in great peril !" " Hold thy peace," said Fulk, " as yet 
you see nothing but good. Master Mador, will you be dead 
of fear 1 Many a dragon we have seen, and God has easily 
delivered us from danger. We were never yet in peril from 
which, thank God, we have not well escaped. Your bad 
comfort would put a coward to death." Fulk took Audulf 
de Bracy, and by steps ascended the mountain, which was 
very high ; and when they came to the summit of the 
mountain, they saw many a good hauberk, helms and swords 


armes, gisantz yleqe, e ne vyrent delees les armes 
nulle chose si os des gentz noun. E virent un arbre 
gros e bel, e une fontaigne par desouth corant d'ewe 
bele e clere. Fouke se regarda deleez, e vist une roche 
crosee ; leva sa destre e se seygna en le noun le Piere, 
Fitz, e le Seynt-Espyryt ; saka sa espeye, e mout har- 
diement se mist dedenz, come cely qe s'en fya del tot 
a Dieu. E vist une molt bele damoisele ploraunte e 
grant duel demenaunte. Fouke la demaunda dont 
estoit. " Sire," fet-ele, " je su file al due de Cartage; 
e j'ai este seynz seet anz. E unqe n'y vy cristien seynz, 
s'il ne venist malgree le suen, e, si vus estes de poer, 
pur Dieu, alez-vus-ent ; quar, si le dragoun de seynz 
vienge, james n'eschapez." " Certes," fet Fouke, 

and other arms, lying there, and they saw beside the arms 
nothing but people's bones. And they saw a large and fair 
tree, and a fountain beneath it running with fair and clear 
water. Fulk looked about him, and saw a hollow rock; 
raised his right arm and crossed himself in the name of the 
Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost ; drew his sword, and very 
boldly entered, as one who trusted entirely in God. And 
he saw a very fair damsel Aveeping and making great la- 
mentation. Fulk asked her whence she was. " Sir," said 
she, " I am daughter of the duke of Cartage ; and I have 
been in here seven years. And I never saw a Christian 
herein, unless he came against his will, and, if you have the 
power, for God's sake, go away ; for if the dragon come from 
within, you will never escape." " Truly," said Fulk, " I 


"uncore ne vueil aler, eynz orroy e verroy plus. Da- 
moisele," fet Fouke, "que fet le dragoun de vus? Ne 
vus fet-il si ben noun?" " Sire," fet-ele, " le dragoun 
est fier e fort; e portereyt un chevaler armee en ces 
mountz, s'il ly poeit prendre en ces powees ; e meynt 
un ad si aportee e mangee, dount vus poez la dehors 
vere les os ; e pluz ayme humayne char qe nul autre. 
E quant sa hydouse face e sa barbesunt ensenglaunteez, 
donqe vient-il a moy e me fet laver de clere ewe sa face 
e sa barbe e son pys. E quant ad talent de dormyr, 
vet a sa couche qe tot est de fyn or ; quar il ad tele na- 
ture qu'il est trop chaut a demesure, e or est molt freyd 
par nature ; e, pur sey refroidir, yl se couche en or. E 
quant vet a sa couche, il prent un gros piere, come vus 

will not go hence till I hear and see more. Damsel," said 
Fulk, " what does the dragon do with you 1 Does he do 
you no harm V " Sir," said she, " the dragon is fierce and 
strong; and he would carry an armed knight to these 
mountains, if he could take him in his claws ; and many a 
one has he brought and eaten, of whom you may see there 
outside the bones; and he likes human flesh better than 
any other. And when his hideous face and his beard are 
covered with blood, then he comes to me, and makes me 
wash with clear water his face and his beard and his breast. 
And when he wants to sleep, he goes to his couch which is 
all of fine gold ; for such is his nature that he is very hot in 
the extreme, and gold is very cold by nature ; and, to cool 
himself, he lies on gold. And when he goes to his couch, 


poez vere la, si le met al us devant, pur doute de moy 
que je ne le deveroy ocyre en dormant; quar il ad sen 
de honme e me doute grantment. E, adrein, je say 
bien qe il m'ociera." " Par Deu !" fet Fouke, " si 
Dieu plest, noun fra." 

Fouke prist la damoisele, si la bailla a sire Audulf 
a garder, e s'en issirent de la roche. E ne furent geres 
issuz qu'il ne vyrent le dragoun volaunt en 1'eyr venyr 
vers eux, si gitta de sa bouche, qe chaut ert, fumee e 
flambe molt oryble. E si fust trop lede beste ; si avoit 
grosse teste, dentz quarreez, fers les powes, long la 
cowe. Le dragoun, quant vist Fouke, si se fery a ly, 
e de sa powe en volant ly fery en 1'eschu qu'il 1'en- 
racha par my. Fouke leva 1'espee, si ly fery le dra- 

he takes a great stone, as you may see there, and puts it 
before the door, for fear of me lest I should kill him when 
asleep ; for he has the sense of a man and fears me greatly. 
And, in the end, I know well that he will slay me." " By 
God !" said Fulk, " if it please God, he shall not do it." 

Fulk took the damsel, and gave her in charge to sir 
Audulf, and they came out from the rock. And they had 
not long come out when they saw the flying dragon in the 
air come towards them, and it cast forth from its mouth, 
which was hot, smoke and flame very horrible. And it was 
a very foul beast j and it had a great head, teeth squared, 
sharp claws, and long tail. The dragon, when it saw Fulk, 
aimed at him, and with its claw in flying struck him on the 
shield that it tore it through the middle. Fulk raised his 


goun en la teste auxi durement come il poeit. E le 
coup ne ly malmist de rien, ne il ne s'enmaya de rien 
pur le coup, tant out dur 1'escharde e 1'esclot devant. 
Le dragoun prent son cours de loyns pur durement fe- 
ryr; e Fouke, qe le coup ne puet endurer, guenchy 
derere Parbre q'esta utre la fontaygne. Fouke apar- 
c.ust qu'il ne poeit le dragoun damager devaunt, si se 
avysa a un retorn qe le dragon fist, si ly fery bien del 
corps sur la cowe, e la coupa en deus. Le dragon co- 
menQa crier e brayre ; saut a la damoysele, si la voleit 
prendre e porter aylours ; e sire Audulf la defendy. Le 
dragon prist sire Audulf de sa powe si estroytement qe, 
si Fouke n'ust venuz plus hastivement, il le ust afolee. 
Donqe vynt Fouke, si coupa la powe, e a grant peyne 

sword, and struck the dragon on the head as hard as he 
could. And the blow did not hurt him at all, nor did he at 
all flinch at the blow, so hard had he both bone and skin. 
The dragon took his run from afar to strike hard ; and Fulk, 
who could not withstand the blow, shrunk behind the tree 
which stood beyond the fountain. Fulk perceived that he 
could not hurt the dragon in front, so he contrived, at 
a return which the dragon made, to strike him well in 
the body upon the tail, and cut it in two. The dragon 
began to cry and roar ; jumps at the damsel, and would take 
her and carry her elsewhere ; and sir Audulf defended her. 
The dragon took sir Audulf with his claw so tightly that, if 
Fulk had not come very hastily, he would have crushed 
him. Then came Fulk, and cut off his paw, and with great 


delyvra sire Audulf; quar durement le avoit de sa powe 
encloee par my le hauberc. Fouke fery le dragoun en 
my la bouche de 1'espee, e par ileqe le ocist. 

Fouke fust molt las, e se reposa une piece ; puis ala 
a la couche le dragon, e prist le or quanqu'il yleqe 
trova e fist aporter a sa galye. Johan de Rampaigne 
tasta la plaie sire Audulf, e la medicina; quar bien 
savoit de medicines. Mador retorna sa neef vers Car- 
tage, e ariverent en la contree, e rendyrent al due sa 
file, qe molt fust lee quant yl la vist. La damoisele ad 
counte a son seignur quele vie ele ad demenee, e 
coment Fouke ocist le dragoun. Le due chay as pees 
Fouke, e le mercia de sa file ; e ly pria, si li plust, 
qu'il volsist demorer en le pays, e il ly dorreit tote 

difficulty set sir Audulf free, for he had fixed him hard with 
his paw through the hauberk. Fulk struck the dragon 
through the middle of the mouth with his sword, and by 
that slew him. 

Fulk was very weary, and reposed himself awhile ; then 
he went to the dragon's sleeping place, and took all the 
gold he found there and caused it to be carried to his galley. 
John de Rampaigne examined the wound of sir Audulf, and 
doctored it ; for he knew much of medicines. Mador turned 
back his ship towards Cartage, and they arrived in the 
country, and restored to the duke his daughter, who was 
very glad when he saw her. The damsel related to her lord 
what life she had led, and how Fulk slew the dragon. The 
duke fell down at Fulk's feet, and thanked him for his 


Cartage ou sa file en manage. Fouke ly mercia fine- 
ment de cuer pur son bel profre, e dit qe volenters 
prendreit sa file, si sa cristienete le poeit soffryr ; quar 
femme avoit esposee. Ce dit, Fouke demora ileqe tanqe 
Audulf fust seyn de sa playe ; e donqe prist congie del 
due, qe molt fust dolent pur le departyr. Le due lur 
dona meynt bon juel e bel, e destrers molt bels e 
ygnels, e a chescun dona ryche dons. 

Fouke e ces compaignouns siglerent vers Engleterre. 
Quant vyndrent a Dovre, entrerent la terre, e lesserent 
Mad or ou la nef en un certeyn leu la ou il ly por- 
reyent trover quant vodreyent. Fouke e ces compai- 
gnons avoient enquis des paissantz qe le roy Johan fust 

daughter; and prayed him, if he pleased, that he would 
dwell in the country, and he would give him all Cartage 
with his daughter in marriage. Fulk thanked him finely 
and heartily for his fair offer, and said that he would wil- 
lingly take his daughter, if his Christianity would suffer it ; 
for he had already a married wife. This said, Fulk dwelt 
there until Audulf was whole of his wound ; and then he 
took leave of the duke, who was very sorrowful for his de- 
parture. The duke gave them many a good jewel and fair, 
and steeds very handsome and swift, and to everyone he 
gave rich gifts. 

Fulk and his companions sailed towards England. When 
they arrived at Dover, they went on shore, and left Mador 
with the ship in a certain place where they could find him 
when they would. Fulk and his companions had learnt 


a Wyndesoure, e se mistrent privement en la voie vers 
Wyndesoure. Les jours dormyrent e se reposerent, les 
nuytz errerent, tanqu'il vyndrent a la foreste ; e la se 
herbigerent en un certeyn lyw ou yl soleynt avant estre 
en la foreste de Wyndesoure, quar Fouke savoit yleqe 
tous les estres. Donqe oyerent veneours e berners 
corner, e par ce saveyent qe le rey irroit chacer. Fouke 
e ces compaignons s'armerent molt richement. Fouke 
jura grant serement qe pur pour de moryr ne lerreit 
qu'il ne se vengeroit de le roy, q'a force e a tort ly ad 
desherytee, e qu'il ne chalengereit hautement ces drey- 
tures e son herytage. Fouke fist ces compaignons de- 
morer yleqe ; e il meymes, ce dit, irreit espier aventures. 

from the people who passed them that king John was at 
Windsor, and they set out privily on the way towards 
Windsor. By day they slept and reposed, and by night 
they wandered, until they came to the forest ; and there 
they -lodged in a certain place where they used before to be 
in the forest of Windsor, for Fulk knew all the parts there. 
Then they heard huntsmen and men with hounds blow the 
horn, and by that they knew that the king was going to 
hunt. Fulk and his companions armed themselves very 
richly. Fulk swore a great oath that for fear of death he 
would not abstain from revenging himself on the king, who 
forcibly and wrongfully had disinherited him, and from 
challenging loudly his rights and his heritage. Fulk made 
his companions remain there ; and himself, he said, would 
go and look out for adventures. 


Fouke s'en ala, e encontra un viel charboner portant 
une trible en sa meyn ; si fust vestu tot neir, come apert 
a charboner. Fouke ly pria par amour qu'il ly velsist 
doner ces vestures e sa trible pur du seon. " Sire," 
fet-il, "volenters." Fouke ly dona x. besantz, e ly 
pria pur s'amour qu'il ne le contast a nully. Le char- 
boner s'en va. Fouke remeynt, e se vesty meyntenant 
de le atyr qe le charboner ly avoit donee, e vet a 
ces charbons, si comence de adresser le feu. Fouke 
vist une grosse fourche de fer, si la prent en sa 
meyn, e dresse saundreyt e landreyt ces coupons. 
Atant vynt le roy ou treis chevalers, tot a pee, a 
Fouke la ou il fust adresaunt son feu. Quant Fouke 
vist le roy, assez bien le conust, e gitta la fourche de 

Fulk went his way, and met an old collier carrying a 
triblet in his hand ; and he was dressed all in black, as a 
collier ought to be. Fulk prayed him for love that he 
would give him his clothes and his triblet for money. " Sir," 
said he, "willingly." Fulk gave him ten besants, and 
begged him for his love that he would not tell anybody of 
it. The collier went away. Fulk remained, and now dressed 
himself in the attire which the collier had given him, and 
went to his coals, and began to stir up the fire. Fulk saw 
a great iron fork, which he took in his hand, and arranged 
here and there the pieces of wood. At length came the 
king with three knights, all on foot, to Fulk where he was 
arranging his fire. When Fulk saw the king, he knew him 
well enough, and he cast the fork from his hand, and sa- 


sa meyn, e salua son seignour, e se mist a genoyls 
devant ly molt humblement. Le roy e ces trois che- 
valers aveyent grant ryseye e jeu de la noreture e de la 
porture le charboner; esturent ileqe bien longement. 
" Daun vyleyn," fet le roy, " avez veu nul cerf on bisse 
passer par ycy ?" " Oyl, mon seignour, piega." " Quele 
beste veitez-vus ?" " Sire, mon seignur, une cornuee ; 
si avoit longe corns." " Ou est-ele ?" " Sire, mon 
seignur, je vus say molt bien mener la ou je la vy." 
"Ore avant, daun vyleyn! e nus vus siweroms." 
" Sire," fet le charboner, " prendroy-je ma forche en 
mayn ? quar, si ele fust prise, je en averoy grant perte." 
" Oyl, vyleyn, si vus volez." Fouke prist la grosse 
fourche de fer en sa meyn, si amoyne le roy pur archer ; 

luted his lord, and went on his knees before him very 
humbly. The king and his three knights had great laughter 
and game at the breeding and bearing of the collier ; they 
stood there very long. " Sir villan," said the king, " have 
you seen no stag or doe pass here V " Yes, my lord, a 
while ago." " What beast did you see V " Sir, my lord, a 
horned one; and it had long horns." "Where is it?" 
" Sir, my lord, I know very well how to lead you to where 
I saw it." " Onward, then, sir villan ; and we will follow 
you." " Sir," said the collier, " shall I take my fork in my 
hand 1 for, if it were taken, I should have thereby a great 
loss." "Yea, villan, if you will." Fulk took the great 
fork of iron in his hand, and led the king to shoot ; for he 
had a very handsome bow. " Sir, my lord," said Fulk, 


quar yl avoit un molt bel arke. " Sire, mon seignur," 
fet Fouke, " vus plest-il attendre, e je irroy en Pespesse 
e fray la beste venir cest chemyn par ycy ?" " Oil," ce 
dit le roy. Fouke hastyvement sayly en le espesse de 
la forest, e comanda sa meyne hastivement prendre le 
roy Johan; " Quar je Fay amenee sa, solement ou treis 
chevalers ; e tote sa meysne est de 1'autre part la fo- 
reste." Fouke e sa meyne saylyrent hors de la espesse, 
e escrierent le roy, e le pristrent meintenant. " Sire 
roy," fet Fouke, "ore je vus ay en mon bandon; tel 
jugement froi-je de vus come vus vodrez de moy si vus 
me ussez pris." Le roy trembla de pour, quar il avoit 
grant doute de Fouke. Fouke jura qu'il morreit pur 
le grant damage e la desheritesoun qu'il avoit fet a ly 

" will you please to wait, and I will go into the thicket, and 
make the beast come this way by here ?" " Yea," said the 
king. Fulk hastily sprang into the thick of the forest, and 
commanded his company hastily to seize upon king John, 
" For I have brought him there, only with three knights ; 
and all his company is on the other side of the forest." Fulk 
and his company leaped out of the thicket, and cried upon 
the king, and seized him at once. " Sir king," said Fulk, 
" now I have you in my power ; such judgment will I exe- 
cute on you as you would on me if you had taken me." 
The king trembled with fear, for he had great dread of 
Fulk. Fulk swore that he should die for the great damage 
and disinheriting which he had done to him and to many a 

i, 2 


e a meint prodhome d'Engleterre. Le roy ly cria 
mercy, e ly pria pur amour Dieu la vie ; e yl ly ren- 
dreyt enterement tou son heritage e quanqu'il aveit 
tolet de ly e de tous les suens, e ly grantereit amour e 
pees pur tous jours, e a ce ly freit en totes choses tiele 
seurete come yl meysmes voleit devyser. Fouke ly 
granta bien tote sa demande a tieles qu'il ly donast, 
veantz ces chevalers, la foy de tenyr cest covenant. Le 
roy ly plevy sa fey qu'il ly tendroit covenant, e fust 
molt lee que issi poeit eschaper. 

E revynt a soun paleis, e fist fere assembler ces 
chevalers e sa meisne, e lur counta de mot en autre 
coment sire Fouke le avoit desgu ; e dit que par force 
fist eel serement, pur quoy qu'il ne le velt tenyr; e 

good man in England. The king implored his mercy, and 
begged his life of him for the love of God ; and he would 
restore him entirely all his heritage and whatever he had 
taken from him and from all his people, and would grant him 
his love and peace for ever, and of this he would make him 
in all things such security as he might himself choose to de- 
vise. Fulk soon yielded his demand, on condition that he 
gave him, in presence of his knights, his faith to keep this 
covenant. The king pledged his faith that he would hold the 
covenant, and he was very glad that he could thus escape. 

And he returned to his palace, and caused his knights 
and his courtiers to assemble, and told them from word to 
word how sir Fulk had deceived him ; and he said that he 
had made that oath through force, and therefore he would 


comaunda que tous se armassent hastivement a prendre 
ces felons en le parke. Atant pria sire James de 
Normandie, que fust cosyn le roy, qu'il poeit aver 
1'avaunt-garde ; e dit qe "les Engleis, a poy tous les 
grantz, sunt cosyns a sire Fouke, e pur ce sunt trei- 
tours al roy, e ces felouns ne vueillent prendre." Donqe 
dit Rondulf le counte de Cestre : " Par foy, sire che- 
valer ! sauve le honour nostre seigneur le roy, noun 
pas vostre, vus y mentez." E ly vodra aver feru del 
poyn, si le counte mareschal ne ust este ; e dit qu'il ne 
sount ne unque furent treitours a le roy ne a suens, 
mes bien dit que tous les grantz e le rey meismes est 
cosyn al dit Fouke. Dont dit le counte mareschal: 
" Aloms pursyvre sire Fouke; donqe verra le roy qui 

not hold it ; and commanded that they should all arm in 
haste to take those felons in the park. At length sir James 
of Normandy, who was the king's cousin, prayed that he 
might have the advanced guard ; and said that " the Eng- 
lish, nearly all the men of rank, are cousins to sir Fulk, and 
for that are traitors to the king, and will not take those 
felons." Then said Randolf earl of Chester : " In faith, sir 
knight ! saving the honour of our lord the king, not yours, 
you lie." And he would have struck him with his fist, and 
it not being for the earl marshal ; and said that they neither 
are nor never were traitors to the king nor to his, but he said 
right that all the men of rank and the king himself were 
cousins to sir Fulk. Then said the earl marshal : " Let us 
go and pursue sir Fulk ; the king will then see who will 



se feyndra pur la cosynage." Sire James de Nor- 
mandye e ces x\. compaignouns chevalers se armerent 
molt richement e tot de blaunche armure, e furent tous 
noblement mountez de blancz destrers ; e se hasta de- 
vant ou sa compagnie, pur aver pris. 

E tot lur affere avoit Johan de Rampaigne espiee, e 
counte a sire Fouke, qe ne poeit en nulle manere 
eschaper si par bataille noun. Sire Fouke e ces com- 
paignouns se armerent molt richement, e se mistrent 
hardiement centre sire James, e se defendirent vige- 
rousement, e ocistrent tous ces compaignouns, estre 
quatre que furent a poi naufres a la mort; e sire James 
fust pris. Sire Fouke e ces compaignouns se armerent 
meintenant de les armes sire James e des autres Nor- 

flinch for his cousenage." Sir James of Normandy and fif- 
teen knights his companions armed themselves very richly 
and all in white armour, and were all nobly mounted on 
white steeds ; and he hurried forward with his company, to 
have the capture. 

Now John de Rampaigne had spied all their proceedings, 
and told them to sir Fulk, who could in no manner escape 
except by battle. Sir Fulk and his companions armed 
themselves very richly, and put themselves boldly against 
sir James, and defended themselves vigorously, and slew all 
his companions except four, who were almost wounded to 
death ; and sir James was taken. Sir Fulk and his com- 
panions now armed themselves with the arms of sir James 
and of the other Normans ; and mounted their good steeds, 


mauntz; e mounterent lur bons destrers que blanks 
erent, quar lur destrers demeyne furent las e mesgres ; 
e armerent sire James de les armes sire Fouke; e lye- 
rent sa bouche, qu'il ne poeit parler, e mistrent son 
helme sur sa teste ; e chevalcherent vers le roy. E 
quant yl les vist, il les conust par les armes, e quida qe 
sire James e ces compaignouns amenerent sire Fouke. 
Lors presenta sire Fouke sire James a le roy, e dist 
que ce fust sire Fouke. Le counte de Cestre e le 
counte mareschal, quant ce virent, mout furent dolentz. 
Le roy, pur le present, ly comaunda qu'il ly baysast ; 
sire Fouke dit qu'il ne poeit attendre de oster son 
healme, quar yl ly covensist pursyvre les autres fitz 
Waryn. Le roi descendy de soun bon destrer e co- 

which were white, for their own steeds were tired and lean ; 
and they armed sir James with the arms of sir Fulk ; and 
bound his mouth, that he could not speak, and put his 
helm on his head ; and rode towards the king. And when 
he saw them, he knew them by their arms, and thought 
that sir James and his companions were bringing sir Fulk. 
Then sir Fulk presented sir James to the king, and said 
that it was sir Fulk. The earl of Chester and the earl 
marshal, when they saw this, were very sorry. The king, 
for the present, commanded him that he should kiss him ; 
sir Fulk said that he could not wait to take off his helm, for 
he must go and pursue the other Fitz-Warines. The king 
descended from his good steed, and commanded him to 


manda qu'il le mounta, quar isnel ert a pursiwre ces 
enymys. Sire Fouke descendy, e mounta le destrer le 
roi, e s'en va vers ces compaignouns, e s'en fuyrent 
bien sis lyws de yleqe. E la se desarmerent en un 
boschage, e laverent lur playes ; e benderent la playe 
Willam, son frere, qe durement fust naufre de un des 
Normauntz, e le tyndrent pur mort ; dont tous fesoient 
duel a demesure. 

Le roy comaunda meyntenaunt pendre sire Fouke. 
Atant vint Emery de Pyn, un Gascoyn, qe fust parent 
a sire James, e dit qu'il le pendreit; e le prist, e le 
amena un poy de yleqe, e fist oster son healme ; e 
meyntenant vist qe ce fu James, e delya sa bouche. E 
il ly conta quanqe avynt entre ly e sire Fouke. Emery 

mount it, for it was fleet to pursue his enemies. Sir Fulk 
descended, and mounted the king's steed, and went his way 
towards his companions, and they fled soon to a distance of 
six leagues from thence. And there they disarmed in a wood, 
and washed their wounds ; and they bandaged the wound of 
William, his brother, who was severely wounded by one of 
the Normans, and they held him for dead, for which they 
all made excessive lamentations. 

The king commanded on the spot to hang sir Fulk. At 
length came Emery de Pin, a Gascon, who was kinsman to 
sir James, and said that he would hang him; and took 
him, and led him a little from thence, and caused his helm 
to be taken off ; and now he saw that it was James, and 
unbound his mouth. And he told him all that had hap- 


vint meintenaunt au roy, e amena sire James, qe ly 
conta coment sire Fouke ly avoit servy. E quant le 
roy se aper9\ist estre issi des9u, molt fust dolent, e jura 
grant serement qe ja ne se devestereit de son haubreke 
avaunt qu'il avoit ces treytres pris. E de ce ne savoit 
sire Fouke rien. 

Le roy e ces countes e barouns les pursiwyrent par 
le esclot des chivals, tant qu'il vindrent a poy a le 
boschage la ou Fouke fust. E quant Fouke les aper- 
9ust, plourt e weymente Willam, son frere, e se tient 
perdu pur tous jours. E Willam lur prie qu'il coupent 
sa teste e la emportent ou eux, issi qe le roy, quant 
trovee son cors, ne sache qui yl fust. Fouke dit qe ce 
ne freit pur le mounde, e prie molt tendrement en 

pened between him and sir Fulk. Emery came immediately 
to the king, and brought sir James, who told him how sir 
Fulk had served him. And when the king perceived that 
he was thus deceived, he was much vexed, and swore a 
great oath that he would not divest himself of his hauberk 
until he had taken these traitors. And of this sir Fulk 
knew nothing. 

The king and his earls and barons pursued them by the 
footmark of their horses, until they came almost to the 
wood where Fulk was. And when Fulk perceived them, 
he wept and lamented for William his brother, and held 
himself lost for ever. And William begged of them that 
they would cut off his head and carry it with them, that 
the king, when he found his body, might not know who he 


ploraunt qe Dieu pur sa piete lur seit en eyde ; e tiel 
duel come entre eux est, ne veistes uriqe greindre fere. 
Rondulf le counte de Cestre vint en prime chef; e 
quant ape^ust sire Fouke, comaunda sa meisne ares- 
tier, si voit privement a sire Fouke, e li pria pur le 
amour de Dieu rendre sei al roy, e yl serroit pur ly de 
vie e de menbre, e qu'il serroit bien apesee al roy. 
Fouke redist que ce ne froit pur tut le aver du mounde ; 
" Mes, sire cosyn, pur 1' amour de Dieu, je vus prie qe 
mon frere qe la gist, quant il est mors, qe vus facez 
enterrer son cors, qe bestes savages ne le devourent, e 
les nos, quant mort sumes. E retornez a vostre seignur 
le roy, e fetes a ly vostre service sanz feyntyse e saunz 
avoir regard a nus, qe sumes de vostre sang; e nus 

was. Fulk said that he would not do that for the world, 
and prayed very tenderly and in tears that God for his pity 
would be to them in aid ; and such grief as was among 
them, you never saw greater made. 

Rondulf, earl of Chester, came in the first place; and 
when he perceived sir Fulk, he commanded his 
halt, and went alone to sir Fulk, and prayed him for the 
love of God to yield himself to the king, and he would 
answer for him for life and limb, and his peace would be 
easily made with the king. Fulk replied that he would not 
do that for all the wealth in the world ; " But, sir cousin, 
for the love of God, I pray you for my brother, who is 
there, when he is dead, that you cause his body to be buried, 
that wild beasts may not devour it, and ours too, when we 


receveroms ore issi la destine qe a nos est ordinee." 
Le counte tot emplorant retorna a sa meyne. Fouke 
remeint, qe molt tendrement plourt de piete pur son 
frere, qe ly covent a force ileqe lesser ; e prie a Dieu 
qu'il lur socourt e eyde. 

Le counte comande sa meisne e sa compaignie a le 
asaut, e yl s'i ferirent vigerousement. Le counte meis- 
mes asaily sire Fouke ; mes a dreyn le counte perdy 
son chival, e sa meisne fust grant partie ocys. Fouke 
e ces freres se defendirent hardiement ; e come Fouke 
se defendy, sire Berard de Blees ly vynt derere e ly 
feri de son espee en le flanc, e le quida aver ocis. 
Ataunt se retorna Fouke, e ly referi sur le espaudle se- 
nestre ou ambedeus les mayns, e ly coupa le cuer e le 

are dead. And return to your lord the king, and do your duty 
to him without feintise, and without having regard to us, 
who are of your blood ; and we will receive now here the 
destiny which is ordained for us." The earl, all weeping, 
returned to his company. Fulk remained, who very ten- 
derly wept with pity for his brother, whom he was compelled 
to leave there ; and prays God to succour and aid them. 

The earl commanded his retinue and his company to the 
assault, and they laid on vigorously. The earl himself 
attacked sir Fulk ; but at last the earl lost his horse, and 
his retinue were in great part slain. Fulk and his brothers 
defended themselves bravely; and as Fulk was defending 
himself, sir Berard de Blees came behind him, and struck 
him with his sword in the side, and believed he had killed 


pulmoun, e chei mort de soun destrer. Fouke avoit 
taunt seigne qu'il palma sur le col de son destrer, e le 
espeye chey de sa meyn. Donqe comenga duel a mer- 
\eille entre les freres. Johan, son frere, sayly derere 
Fouke sur le destrer e ly sustynt qu'il ne poeit cheyer ; 
e se mistrent a fuyte, quar poer ne aveient de demorer. 
Le roy e sa meyne les pursiwyrent, mes prendre ne les 
purreynt. Tote la nuit errerent issi, qe lendemayn 
matyn vindrent a la mer a Mador le maryner. Donque 
reverci Fouke, e demaunda oil il fust e en qy poer ; e 
ces freres ly confortoyent a mieux qu'il purroient, e ly 
cocherent en la nef en un molt bel lit, e Johan de 
Rampayne medicina ces playes. 

him. At length Fulk turned round, and returned the blow 
on his left shoulder with both his hands, and cut through 
his heart and lung, and he fell dead from his steed. Fulk 
had bled so much that he fainted on the neck of his steed, 
and his sword fell from his hand. Then began grief won- 
derfully among the brothers. John, his brother, leapt 
behind Fulk on the steed, and held him up that he could 
not fall ; and they took to flight, for they had not power to 
remain. The king and his retinue pursued them, but they 
could not take them. Then they wandered all the -night, till 
on the morrow morning they came to the sea to Mador the 
mariner. Then Fulk revived, and asked where he was, and 
in whose power ; and his brothers comforted him in the 
best way they could, and laid him in bed in the ship in a 
very fair bed, and John de Rampaigne doctored his wounds. 


Le counte de Cestre avoit grantment perdu de sa 
gent, e vist dejouste ly Willam le fitz Waryn a poy 
mort, e prist le cors e le maunda a une abbeye pur 
medeciner. Au drein fust ileqe apargu, e le roy le fist 
venyr en litere devant ly a Wyndesoure, e la fist ruer 
en profounde prisone, e molt fust coroce a le counte de 
Cestre pur ce qu'il le cela. Fet le roy : " Fouke est 
naufre a la mort, e cesti ay-je ore ici ; les autres averei- 
je bien, ou qu'il seient. Certes, m'en poise durement 
de le orgoil Fouke ; quar si orgoil ne fust, il ust un- 
quore vesqy. E tant come il fust en vie n'y out tiel 
chevaler en tot le mounde ; dont grant pierte est de 
perdre un tel chevaler." 

En la mer pres de Espaigne est une ysle tote close 

The earl of Chester had lost greatly of his people, and 
saw near him William Fitz-Warine almost dead, and took 
the body and sent it to an abbey to be doctored. In the 
end he was discovered there, and the king caused him to 
be brought in a litter to Windsor before him, and caused 
him to be thrown into a deep prison, and was much angered 
against the earl of Chester because he concealed him. Said 
the king : " Fulk is mortally wounded, and this one have I 
now here; the others I shall easily take, be they where 
they will. Truly, I am greatly annoyed at the pride of 
Fulk; for had it not been for his pride, he would have 
been still alive. And as long as he was alive there was 
not such a knight in all the world ; wherefore it is a great 
loss to lose such a knight." 


de haut roche, e si n'est que une entre, si est apelee 
Beteloye, une demie luwe de long e autretant de lee, e 
la n'y avoit home ne beste habitaunt. Le sisme jour 
vindrent a ce ysle. Fouke comenc,a donqe dormyr, 
quar sis jours devant ne avoit dormy. Ces freres e sa 
meisne alerent a la terre; e yl meismes soulement 
dormy en la nef, que fust fermee a la roche. Ataunt 
survynt un hydous vent, e rompy le cordes de la nef, e 
emporta la nef en haute mer. Lors se enveilla Fouke, 
e vist les estoilles e le firmament, apela Johan son 
frere e ces autres compaignons ; e nully le respondy, 
e vist qu'il fust soulement en haute mer. Donqe co- 
menga a plurer e maldire sa destine, que ly fust si dure, 
e regreta ces freres. Lors ly prist un somoil, e bien tost 

In the sea near Spain is an island entirely closed in with 
high rock, and there is only one entrance ; it is called 
Beteloye, half a league long and as much broad, and there 
was neither man nor beast inhabiting it. The sixth day 
they came to this isle. Fulk began then to sleep, for during 
six days before he had not slept. His brother and his 
retinue went on shore ; and he himself alone slept in the 
ship, which was attached to the rock. At length came a 
hideous wind, and broke the cords of the ship, and carried 
the ship out into the open sea. When Fulk awoke and 
saw the stars and the firmament, he called his brother John 
and his other companions ; and nobody answered him, and 
he saw that he was alone on the open sea. And then he 
began to weep, and to curse his destiny, which was so hard, 


ariva sa nef e[n] la terre de Barbaric a la cite de 
Tunes. E yleqe adonqe estoit Messobryns, le roy de 
Barbarie, ou quatre rois e sis admirals, qe tous furent 
Sarazyns. Le roi se apua en un tour vers la mer, e 
vist cele merveilleuse galye arive en sa terre, e comanda 
deus serjauntz aler e vere ce qe fust. Les deus ser- 
jauntz entrerent la nef; rien ne troverent si le chevaler 
noun, qe uncore fust endormy. Le un le bota de ces 
pies e le comaunda esveiller. Le chevaler saut sus 
come honme effraee, si le fery de le poyn qu'il chay 
outre bord en my la mer ; le autre se mist a fuste, e 
vint counter le roi coment ly avynt. Le roi comanda 
c. chevalers aler prendre cele nef, e amener a ly le 

and he regretted his brothers. Then a slumber seized upon 
him, and soon his ship arrived in the land of Barbary, at 
the city of Tunis. And there at that time was Messobryns, 
king of Barbary, with four kings and six admirals, who 
were all Saracens. The king leaned on a tower towards 
the sea, and saw this marvellous gaily arrive in his land, 
and commanded two Serjeants to go and see what it was. 
The two Serjeants entered the ship; they found nothing 
but the knight, who was still asleep. The one pushed him 
with his feet, and commanded him to awake. The knight 
jumped up like a man in a fright, and struck him with his 
fist that he fell overboard into the middle of the sea ; the 
other took to flight, and came to tell the king how it had 
happened to him. The king commanded a hundred knights 
to go and take that ship, and bring the knight to him. 


chevaler. Les c. chevalers tot armes vindrent a la nef, 
e le assailerent de tote partz. Fouke se defent hardie- 
ment countre tous ; mes a drein se rendy a tieles qu'il 
ne averoit si bien noun. Yl le amenerent devant le 
roy, e il comaunda qu'il fust bien servi en une chambre. 
Isorie, la suere le roy, le soleit sovent visiter e con- 
forter, e si fust trebele e gentile damoisele ; e aper9ust 
qu'il fust playe en la flanke, e ly pria pur amour que 
yl la dist coment out noun e de quele terre fust e en 
quele manere fust playe. Yl la respoundy qu'il avoit 
a noun Maryn le Perdu de Fraunce, e qu'il ama ten- 
drement de cuer une damoisele file de un counte de son 
pais, e ele ly refist grant semblaunt d' amour; mes ele 
ama plus un autre. "E avynt que ly e moy un jour 

The hundred knights, all armed, came to the ship, and 
assailed it on all sides. Fulk defended himself courageously 
against them all ; but at last he surrendered on condition 
that he should have no hurt. They led him before the king, 
who commanded that he should be served well in a chamber. 
Isorie, the king's sister, used often to visit and comfort 
him, and was a very fair and gentle damsel ; and she saw 
that he was wounded in the side, and prayed him for love 
that he would tell her how he was named, and from what 
land he was, and in what manner he was wounded. He 
replied that he was named Marin le Perdu of France, and 
that he loved tenderly from his heart a damsel, daughter of 
an earl of his country, and she made him in return great 
semblance of love ; but she loved more another. " And it 


fumes assembles par grant amour, e ele me tint entre 
les bras molt estroit ; ataunt survynt le autre qe ama 
plus, e me feri issi de un espe ; e pus me mistrent en 
une galye en la mer pur mort, e la galye me amena en 
ces parties." " Certes," dit Isorie, " cele damoisele 
ne fust geres cortois." Isorie prist sa harpe, qe molt 
riche fust, e fist descaunz e notes pur solacer Fouke ; 
quar le vist bel e de corteise poiture. 

Fouke demaund a Isorie la bele quei fust la noyse 
qe fust devaunt le roi en la sale. " Certes," fet-ele, 
" je le vus dirroi. En la terre de Yberie avoit un due 
qe fust apele due de Cartage, e avoit une tres bele 
fyle, Ydoyne de Cartage. Cele vivaunt le pere sojorna 
en un son chastiel de Cartage. Atant vint un dragoun, 

happened that she and I one day were together through 
great love, and she held me in her arms very tight; at 
length came the other whom she loved more, and struck 
me here with a sword ; and then they placed me in a galley 
on the sea for dead, and the galley brought me into these 
parts." " Truly," said Isorie, " that damsel was not over 
courteous." Isorie took her harp, which was very rich, and 
made descants and notes to solace Fulk ; for she saw that 
he was handsome, and of courtly breeding. 

Fulk asked of Isorie the fair what was the noise that was 
before the king in the hall. " Truly," said she, " I will tell 
you. In the land of Iberie was a duke who was called duke of 
Cartage, and he had a very fair daughter, Ydoine of Cartage. 
She during her father's life dwelt in his castle of Cartage. 



qe la prist e emporta en un haut mount en la mer ; e 
la tynt plus qe sept aunz, si la qe un chevaler de 
Engletere, que fust apele Fouke le fitz Waryn de Mees, 
vint sur eel mont, e ocist le dragoun, e la rendy a son 
piere. Tost apres le due morust, e ele tient tote la du- 
cheyse. Le roi mon frere maunda a ly messagers qu'il 
la prendroit a femme, e ele le refusa ; e pur vergoyne 
qe le roi avoit, fist assembler grant pueple e destruit 
ces cites, abati ces chastiels. La damoisele s'en fui en 
estraunge regne pur qerre socours ; mes ore est-ele re- 
venue ou pueple saunz nonbre, e comence fierement a 
guerrer le roy, e si est preste de fere bataille countre 
ost ou chevaler countre chevaler, issi que si le suen 
seit vencu qe ele ayle vers sa terre, e si le nostre seit 

At length came a dragon, and took her and carried her to 
a high mountain in the sea ; and held her more than seven 
years, when there came to the mountain a knight of Eng- 
land, who was called Fulk Fitz-Warine de Metz, and slew 
the dragon, and restored her to her father. Soon after the 
duke died, and she holds all the duchy. The king, my 
brother, sent messengers to her that he would take her to 
wife, and she refused him ; and for shame which the king 
had, he caused a great multitude to be assembled, and 
destroyed her cities and beat down her castles. The damsel 
fled thence into a foreign country to seek succour; but 
now she is returned with people without number, and 
begins fiercely to make war upon the king, and she is 
ready to do battle against host, or knight against knight, 


vencu, qe le rey mon frere entierement restore ces da- 
mages. E sur ce vindrent huy en sale fieres messa- 
gers ; e plust a dieu Mahoun que vus fussez tiel qe la 
bataille de par le roy mon frere ossasez prendre ; quar 
grant honeur vus avendreit." " Certes, ma damoysele, 
je su grantment tenuz a mon seigneur le roy, e nome- 
ment a vus ; mes james bataille ne prendrei pur Sara- 
zyn countre Cristien, pur perdre la vie. Mes si le roy 
vueille reneyer sa ley e devenyr Cristien e estre bap- 
tize, je prendroy la bataille, e salver oy sa terre e ces 
gentz, e ly froi aver cele damoysele dount me avez 
counte." Isorie va tot counter Messobryn, son frere, 
le roy de Barbaric, quanqe Fouke, qe se fet appeler 

so that if her's be vanquished she shall go to her own 
country ; and if ours be vanquished, the king, my brother, 
shall make good all her damages. And upon this there 
came to-day proud messages; and may it please the god 
Mahoun that you were such as you dare take the battle for 
the king my brother ; for great honour would accrue to 
you." " Truly, my damsel, I am greatly obliged to my 
lord the king, and especially to you ; but I will never take 
battle for Saracen against Christian, though I should lose 
my life. But if the king will relinquish his faith, and 
become a Christian, and be baptized, I will take the battle, 
and will save his land and his people, and will cause him to 
have that damsel of whom you have told me." Isorie goes 
to tell to Messobryn, her brother, the king of Barbary, all 
that Fulk, who had assumed the name of Marin le Perdu of 

M 2 


Maryn ie Perdu de France, ly out promis. Le roy 
graunta meyntenaunt quanqe vodra ordyner, si yl purra 
cele bosoigne issi achevyr. 

Le jour qe la bataille fust ordyne, le roy arma mout 
richement sire Fouke, e Isorie meismes de bone volente 
ly servy. Le roy e ces Barbaryns, ces admyrals, e tous 
ces autre gentz, furent richement armes, e grant pueple 
ou eux ; e mistrent avant son chevaler Fouke, que 
devereit fere la bataille; e la duchesse mist avant le 
suen. Les chevalers, que fiers furent, brocherent les 
chivals des esperouns, e fierent de launces, que tron- 
cjouns volent par les chauns ; pus treient les espies, e 
si entrefierent hardiement. Fouke fery le cheval son 
compaignon, que mort le abati ; mes a son vueil yl ust 

France, had promised her. The king at once granted all 
that he would ordain, if he could so effect this business. 

The day of the battle was ordained, the king armed sir 
Fulk very richly, and Isorie herself served him very wil- 
lingly. The king and his Barbarines, his admirals, and all 
his other people, were richly armed, and much people with 
them ; and they put forward his knight Fulk, who was to 
do the battle ; and the duchess put forward her (knight). 
The knights, who were fierce, urged their horses with spurs, 
and struck with their lances, that the pieces flew about the 
field; then drew their swords, and encountered each other 
courageously. Fulk struck the horse of his companion, that 
he felled it down dead; but it was his intention to have 


feru le chevaler. Quant le chevaler fust a terre, dont 
dit : " Maveis payen, maveis Sarazin de male foy, Dieu 
de ciel vus maldie ! pur quoy avez ocis mon chival?" 
Fouqe descendy a pie, e s'entrecombatyrent durement 
tot le jour. Quant fust a poy avespree, dit le chevaler 
a Fouke : " Daun paien, tu es fort e vigerous; par 
amours dy-moy, ou nasquiste-vus ?" "Si vus plest 
saver mon nation, je ne le vus dirroi mye, si vus ne me 
diez eynz del vostre; e je le vus grant." Le chevaler 
ly dit qu'il fust Cristien nez en Engletere, le fiz Waryn 
de Mees, e fust appele Phelip le Rous ; e counta de 
mot en autre tot par ordre entierement tote sa vie e 
ces freres, e come la ducheyse vynt en une nef par le 
ysle de Beteloye, e les resgust en la nef e les sauva ; 

struck the knight. When the knight was on the ground, 
then said he : " Wicked pagan, wicked Saracen of ill faith, 
God of heaven curse you ! why have you slain my horse ?" 
Fulk dismounted on foot, and they fought one another hard 
all day. When it was almost evening, said the knight to 
Fulk : " Sir pagan, you are strong and vigorous ; for love 
tell me, where were you born ?" " If it please you to know 
my nation, I will not tell it you, if you do not first tell me 
yours ; (on that condition) I grant it you." The knight 
said that he was a Christian born in England, the son of 
Warine de Metz, and that he was called Philip the Red ; 
and he related to him in order from word to word entirely 
all his life and that of his brothers, and how the duchess 
came by ship to the isle of Beteloye, and received them in 


quar demy- an e plus y furent, e mangerent lur chivaus 
pur feym. " E quant la countesse nus ust veu, meyn- 
tenaunt nus conust, e nus trova quanqe mestier nus 
fust ; e nus counta que ele vint de Engletere, e la nus 
avoit quis pur sa gere meintenyr ; e tiele dure vie avoms 
demeyne." Lors dit Fouke : " Beu frere Phelip le 
Rous, ne me conusez-vus? je su Fouke, vostre frere." 
" Nay, certes, daun Sarazyn, non estes ; mes ore me 
vodrez engyner. Par Dieu ! noun fres." Donqe ly dit 
Fouke verroy enseigne, qu'il bien conust. Donqe de- 
menerent grant joye, e respiterent la bataille tanqe 
lendemeyn. Phelip conta la ducheyse qe ce fust Fouke 
son frere ou qy il avoit combatu, issi qe par le consayl 
Fouke e Phelip e ces autres freres, le roy e tote sa 

the ship and saved them ; for they were there half a year 
and more, and eat their horses for hunger. " And when the 
countess saw us, she knew us at once, and found us what- 
ever we needed ; and told us that she came from England, 
and that she had sought us there to maintain her war; and 
such hard life have we led." " Fair brother Philip the Red, 
do you not know me? I am Fulk, your brother." " Nay, 
truly, sir Saracen, you are not ; but now you would deceive 
me. By God ! you shall not do it !" Then Fulk told him 
a true mark, by which he knew him well. Then they made 
great joy, and respited the battle till the morrow. Philip 
told the duchess that it was Fulk his brother with whom he 
had fought, so that by the counsel of Fulk and Philip and 
his other brothers, the king and all his household were bap- 


meysne furent baptize, e le roy esposa la duchesse a 
grant honour. 

Fouke e ces freres e sa meyne demorerent une piece 
ou le roy, pus se apresterent mout richement vers En- 
gletere. Le roy lur dona or, argent, chivals, armes, e 
totes richesses que il voderount aver ou coveyter; e 
emplyrent lur nef de taunt de richesse qe a merveille. 
Quant furent arivez privement en Engleterre, Fouke 
ordina qe Johan de Rampayne se freit marchaunt e 
enquerreit ou le roy Johan fust, e si Willam, soun 
frere, fust en vie ou ne mye. Johan se apparilla molt 
richement a gyse de marchaunt, vint a Loundres, e se 
herberga a la mesoune le meyr, e se fist servir molt 
richement, e se acointa ou le meyr e tote la meyne, e 

tized, and the king married the duchess with great ho- 

Fulk and his brothers and his retinue remained a while 
with the king, then prepared them very richly towards 
England. The king gave them gold, silver, horses, arms, 
and all the riches that they would have or desire ; and they 
filled their ship with so much riches as was wonderful. 
When they had arrived secretly in England, Fulk ordered 
that John de Rampaigne should make himself a merchant 
and inquire where king John was, and if William, his 
brother, were alive or not. John dressed himself very richly 
in guise of a merchant, came to London, and lodged in the 
house of the mayor, and caused himself to be served very 
richly, and obtained the acquaintance of the mayor and all 


lur dona bel douns ; e pria al meir qu'il ly fesoit aver 
conisaunce de le rey, issi qu'il purreit ariver sa nef en 
sa terre. E quanqu'il parla fust latyn corupt; mes le 
meir le entendy bien. Le meir le amena devant le roy 
Johan a Westmoster, e le marchant mout cortoisement 
ly salua en son langage. Le roi 1'entendi bien, e de- 
maunda qui il ert e dont vint. " Sire," fet-il, " je su 
marchaunt de Grece, si ay este en Babiloyne, Alixandre, 
et Ynde le Majour, e ay un nef charge de avoir de 
pois, riche dras, perye, chevals, e autres richesses qe 
grantment purreint valer a ceste reigne." " Je vueil," 
fet le roy, " qe vus e vos bien aryvez en ma terre, e je 
vus serroi garant." E furent comaundez demorer a 

his household, and gave them fair gifts; and prayed the 
mayor that he would cause him to have knowledge of the 
king, so that he could bring his ship to the shore in his 
land. And what he talked was corrupt Latin; but the 
mayor understood it well. The mayor conducted him to 
the presence of king John at Westminster, and the mer- 
chant very courteously saluted him in his language. The 
king understood it well, and asked who he was and whence 
he came. " Sir," said he, " I am a merchant of Greece, and 
have been in Babylon, Alexandria, and India the Greater, 
and have a ship laden with avoirdepoise, rich cloths, pearls, 
horses, and other riches which might be of great worth to 
this kingdom." " I will," said the king, " that you and yours 
come to shore well in my land, and I will be your warrant." 
And they were commanded to stay and eat. The mayor 


mangier. Le meir e le marchant mangerent ensemble 
devant le roy. Atant vindrent deus serjauntz de mace, 
e amenerent en la sale un chevaler grant, corsu, longe 
barbe e neyre, e fieblement atyre, e le assistrent en my 
le eyr, e ly donerent a manger. Le marchaunt de- 
maunda al meir qui ce fust ; e il ly dit un chevaler 
nome sire Willam le fitz Warin, e ly counta entierement 
tote le estre de ly e ces freres. E quant il le oy nomer, 
donqe fust molt lee qu'il le vist en vie ; mes molt a 
deseesee de cuer qu'il le vist si meseyse. Le marchaunt, 
al plus tost qu'il poeit, se hasta vers sire Fouke, e ly 
counta tot soun affere, e fist amener la nef auxi pres la 
cite come il poeynt. Lendemeyn le marchant prist un 
palefroy blanc (si bel ne fust en tote le roialme), e le 

and the merchant eat together before the king. At last 
came two sergeants-at-mace, and conducted into the hall a 
tall knight, stout, with a long and black beard, and meanly 
clad, and they seated him in the midst of the area, and 
gave him to eat. The merchant asked the mayor who he 
was; and he told him a knight named sir William Fitz 
Warine, and related to him entirely all the affair of him and 
his brothers. And when he heard him named, then he was 
very glad that he saw him alive ; but much grieved in his 
heart that he saw him so ill at ease. The merchant, as soon 
as he could, hastened to sir Fulk, and told him all his pro- 
ceedings, and caused them to bring the ship as near the 
city as they could. On the morrow the merchant took a 
white palfrey (there was not so beautiful a one in all the 


presenta a le roy Johan, qe molt leement le re9ust pur 
sa belte. Le marchant dona si largement qu'il se fist 
amer de tous, e poeit fere en court quanqe ly plust. 

Un jour prist ces compaignons, e se armerent bien, 
e pus vestirent lur gounes come a mariners apent, vin- 
drent a Westmoster a court, e ileque furent noblement 
resQuz, e virent Willam le fitz Warin qe fust amene de 
ces gardeins vers la chartre. Le marchaunt e ces com- 
paignouns, malgree les gardeynz, le pristrent a force e 
le aporterent a lur batil, que flota assez pres desouz le 
paleis, e se mistrent eynz. Les gardeynz leverent la 
menee e les pursiwyrent; les marchauntz furent bien 
armes e se defendirent hardiement, e s'eschaperent a 

kingdom), and presented it to king John, who received it 
very joyfully on account of its beauty. The merchant gave 
so liberally, that he made himself beloved by all, and could 
do in court what he pleased. 

One day he took his companions, and they armed them- 
selves well, and then put on their gowns as is the custom 
with mariners, came to Westminster to court, and were 
there nobly received, and saw William Fitz Warine who 
was led by his keepers towards the prison. The merchant 
and his companions, in spite of the keepers, took him by 
force and carried him to their boat, which was afloat pretty 
near below the palace, and put themselves in. The keepers 
raised the hue and cry, and pursued them ; but the mer- 
chants were well armed, and defended themselves cou- 
rageously, and escaped to their galley, and sailed towards 


lur galye, e siglerent vers haute mer. Quant Fouke 
vist Willam, son frere, e Jon de Rampaigne qe fust 
marchant. ne fet a demaunder si lee fust; e s'entre- 
beyserent, e chescun counta [a] autre sa aventure e son 
meschief. E quant le roy entendy qu'il fust engyne 
par le marchant, molt se tynt mal bayly. 

Fouke e ces compaignouns aryverent en Bretaigne 
le Menour, e demorerent la demy-an e plus, ou ces 
parentz e cosyns. Atant se purpensa qu'il ne lerreit 
pur rien qu'il n'yrreit en Engletere. E quant vint en 
Engletere, en la Novele-Forest, ou yl soleit converser, 
encontra le roy, que pursiwy un cengler. Fouke e ces 
compaignouns le pristrent e sis chevalers ou ly, e le 
amenerent en lur galye. Le roy e tous les suens furent 

the high sea. When Fulk saw William, his brother, and 
John de Rampaigne, who was merchant, it need not be 
asked if he was joyful ; they kissed each other, and each 
told the other his adventures and his griefs. And when the 
king heard that he was taken in by the merchant, he was 
very much mortified. 

Fulk and his companions arrived in Britain the Less, and 
dwelt there half a year and more, with his kinsmen and 
cousins. At length he thought that nothing should hinder 
him from going into England. And when he came into 
England, in the New Forest, where he used to haunt, he 
fell in with the king, who was pursuing a boar. Fulk and 
his companions took him and six knights with him, and 
carried him into their galley. The king and all his were 


molt esbays. Molt de paroles furent; mes a dreyn le 
roy lur pardona tot son maltalent, e lur rendi tote lur 
heritage, e lur promist en bone fei qu'il freit crier lur 
pees par tote Engletere ; e a ce fere lessa ses sis cheva- 
lers ou eux en hostage, si la qe la pes fust crie. 

Le roy s'en ala a Westmostier, e fist assembler coun- 
tes, barouns, e la cleregie, e lur dit apertement qu'il 
avoit de gree graunte sa pees a Fouke le fitz Warin e 
a ces freres e a tuz lur aherdauntz, e comanda qu'il 
fuissent honorement res9uz par tot le roialme, e lur 
granta entierement tot lur heritage. Quant Hubert le 
erchevesqe ce oy, molt fust lee, e maunda meynte- 
naunt ces letres a Fouke e al counte de Gloucestre e a 

much abashed. There were many words ; but at last the 
king pardoned them all his spite, and restored them all 
their inheritance, and promised them in good faith that he 
would cause their peace to be proclaimed through all Eng- 
land ; and for the doing of this he left his six knights with 
them as hostages, until the peace was proclaimed. 

The king went thence to Westminster, and caused to as- 
semble earls, barons, and the clergy, and told them openly 
that he had of his own will granted his peace to Fulk Fitz 
Warine and his brothers and all his adherents, and com- 
manded that they should be honourably received through 
all the kingdom, and granted them entirely all then* heri- 
tage. When Hubert the archbishop heard this, he was very 
glad, and sent his letters immediately to Fulk and to the 
earl of Gloucester, and to Randulf carl of Chester, and to 


Rondulf le countc de Cestre e a Hue counte mareschal, 
qu'il venissent hastivement a ly a Caunterbery ; e quant 
furent venuz, ordinerent qe Fouke e ces freres se ren- 
dreynt a Loundres a le roy. Fouke e ces freres e les 
trois countes ou lur poer se apparillerent auxi riche- 
ment come yl saveient e poyeynt, si vindrent par mi 
Londre ou noble apparail, e s'engenoillerent al roy a 
Westmoster, e se rendirent a ly. Le roy les re$ust, e 
lur rendy quanqe lur fust en Engleterre, e les co- 
maunda demorer ou ly ; e si firent-yl un mois entier. 
Puis prist Fouke congie, e demora ou le counte mares- 
chal ; e le counte ly dona sur Asshesdoune, Wantynge, 
e autres terres. Fouke e ces freres se armerent a 
talent, e vindrent a Abyndone, e remuerent de ileqe 

Hugh earl-marshal, that they should come in haste to him 
at Canterbury ; and when they were come, they ordained 
that Fulk and his brothers should surrender themselves at 
London to the king. Fulk and his brothers and the three 
earls with their power apparelled themselves as richly as 
they knew how and were able, and came through London 
with noble apparel, and knelt before the king at West- 
minster, and rendered themselves to him. The king re- 
ceived them, and restored to them all that was theirs in 
England, and commanded them to remain with him ; which 
they did a whole month. Then Fulk took leave, and re- 
mained with the earl-marshall ; and the earl gave him on 
Ashdown, Wanting, and other lands. Fulk and his brothers 
armed themselves to their liking, and came to Abingdon, 


quanqu'il purreynt trover a vendre, e les firent porter e 
carier a Wantynge; e fist feyre yleque e ville mar- 
chande, que pus en sa ad este tenu e uncore est. 

Fouke prist counge de le counte mareschal, e s'en 
ala a le counte Rondulf de Cestre, que se apparilla ou 
grant pueple vers Yrlaunde pur defendre ces droitz 
yleque. Quant il furent arivez, si virent grant assem- 
ble de lur enymis. Le counte comaunda qe tous se ar- 
massent; e le counte avoit ou ly trois juvencels freres, 
qe furent gent de grant valour e force e furent armes 
e bien mountes, e ou eux fust Fouke. Ataunt virent 
un hidous geant entre lur enimys, que fust bien arme, 
tot a pie, hidous, neir, e orrible, plus long que nul autre 
de xii. pies; e criout : "Counte de Cestre, maundez- 

and removed thence all that they could find to sell, and 
caused it to be taken and carried to Wanting, and he made 
there a fair and a market town, which has been since held 
there and is still. 

Fulk took leave of the earl-marshall, and went thence to 
earl Randulf of Chester, who was appareling himself with 
much people towards Ireland to defend his rights there. 
When they arrived, they saw a great assemblage of their 
enemies. The earl commanded that all should arm; and 
the earl had with him three youthful brothers who were 
people of great valour and force and were armed and well 
mounted, and with them was Fulk. At length they saw a 
hideous giant among their enemies, who was well armed, 
all on foot, hideous, black, and horrible, longer than any 


moy le plus valiant chevaler qe vus avez pur dereyner 
vostre dreit." Les treis juvencels, que le oyrent, se 
mistrent a ly chescun apres autres ; e il les ocist meyn- 
tenaunt de sa hasche qu'il tynt. Atant lest Fouke 
coure le destrer, e ly vodra aver feru de sa launce ; e 
le geant gwencha un poy, e fery a Fouke qu'il le ust a 
poy afolee. Fouke le dota grantment e le avysa bien, 
issi qe de sa launce le fery par mi le cors ; yl chay a 
terre, e en gisant fery le cheval Fouke e ly coupa les 
deus pies. Fouke chay a terre e resailly, e saka Tespee 
e coupa sa teste ; e emporta sa hasche a Blaunche- 
Ville, ou Fouke avoit fet fermer en marreis un chastel 
fort e bel. E issi conquist le counte tous ces terres e 

other by twelve feet ; and he cried : " Earl of Chester, send 
me the most valiant knight you have to advocate your 
right." The three youths, who heard it, encountered him 
each after the other ; and he slew them immediately with 
the axe he held. At last Fulk let go his horse, and would 
have struck him with his lance ; and the giant flinched a 
little, and struck at Fulk that he had almost killed him. 
Fulk feared him much and watched him well, until with 
his lance he struck him through the body ; he fell to the 
ground, and as he fell struck Fulk's horse and cut off two 
of his feet. Fulk fell to the ground, and sprung up again, 
and drew his sword and cut off his head ; and he carried his 
axe to White-Town, where Fulk had caused to be built in 
the marsh a strong and fair castle. And thus conquered 
the earl all his lands and castles in Ireland. And when he 


chastiels en Irlaund. E quant avoit ileqe demorree, e 
restorre ces terres, pus retorna en Engleterre. 

Fouke vint a Blaunche-Ville, e trova ileque Mahaud, 
sa femme, e ces enfaunz, qe molt furent lee de sa venue ; 
e grant joye entrefirent. Donqe fist Fouke aporter ces 
tresours e ces richesses; terres, chivals, dona a ces 
serjauntz e amis molt largement, e meintint sa terre a 
grant honour. Fouke se purpensa qu'il avoit grantment 
meserre countre Dieu, come en occisioun des gentz 
e autres grauntz meffetz; e, en remissioun de ces 
pecchies, founda une priorie en le honour de Nostre- 
Dame seinte Marie de le ordre de Grantmont pres de 
Alberburs, en le boschage, sur la rivere de Sauverne ; 
e si est appelee la Novele Abbeye. E n'i a geres apres 

had remained there, he replenished his lands, and then 
returned to Eiigland. 

Fulk came to White- Town, and found there Maude, his 
wife, and his children, who were very glad of his coming ; 
and they made great joy between them. Then Fulk caused 
his treasures and his riches to be brought ; gave lands and 
horses to his Serjeants and friends very largely, and main- 
tained his land in great honour. Fulk bethought him that 
he had greatly sinned against God, as by slaughter of people 
and other great offences; and, in remission of his sins, 
founded a priory in the honour of our lady St. Mary of the 
order of Grandmont near Alberbury, in a wood, on the river 
Severn; and it is called the New Abbey. And not long 
after died dame Maude de Cause, his wife, and was interred 


morust dame Mahaud de Cans, sa femme, e fust enterree 
en cele priorie. E bone piece apres qe cele dame fust 
devye, Fouke esposa une molt gentile dame, dame 
Clarice de Auberville; e de la une e 1'autre dame 
engendra bials enfauntz e molt vaillauntz. Quaunt 
dame Johane, la femme Lowis le prince de Walys, que 
fust la file le roi Henre de Engleterre, fust devyee, 
pur le grant renoun de prowesse e de bounte que sire 
Fouke aveit, yl maunda a ly pur Eve sa file ; e il la 
graunta, e a grant honour e solempnete furent esposee. 
Mes Lowis ne vesqui que un an e demi apres ; morust, 
e fust ensevely a Aberconewey, saunz heir engendre 
de Eve. E pus fust ele espose a ly sire de Blanc- 
Mostiers, que fust chevaler de grant aprise, coragous e 

in this priory. And a good while after ths lady was dead, 
Fulk married a very gentle lady, lady Clarice de Auber- 
ville ; and by his two wives he begat fair children and very 
valiant. When lady Joane, wife of Lewis prince of Wales, 
who was the daughter of king Henry of England, was dead, 
for the great renown of prowess and goodness that sir Fulk 
had, he sent to him for Eve his daughter; and he gave her 
to him, and they were married with great honour and 
solemnity. But Lewis only lived a year and a half after ; 
he died and was buried at Aberconway, without heir be- 
gotten of Eve. And afterwards she was married to the lord 
of White-Minster, who was a knight of great breeding, 
courageous and bold. 




Fouke e dame Clarice, sa femme, une nuit cho- 
cherent ensemble en lur chaunbre ; la dame dormy, e 
Fouke veilla e se purpensa de juvente, e molt se re- 
penti de cuer de son trespeis. Ataunt vist en la chaun- 
bre si grant clarete que a merveille, e se pens a que ce 
poeit estre. Donque oy une vois come ce fust de tonayre 
en le heir, e disoit : " Vassal, Dieu te ad graunte ta 
penaunce, que mieux valt ci qe aillours." A cele pa- 
role, la dame enveilly, e vist la grant clarete, e mussa sa 
face de pour. Ataunt envanist cele clarete. E pus 
cele clarete, unque ne poeit Fouke vere plus ; mes fust 
veogle pur tous jours. 

Cesti Fouke fust bon viaundour e large; e fesoit 
turner le real chemyn par mi sa sale a soun maner de 

Fulk and lady Clarice, his wife, one night were sleeping 
together in their chamber ; the lady was asleep, and Fulk 
was awake and thought of his youth, and repented much in 
his heart for his trespass. At length he saw in the chamber 
so great a light that it was wonderful, and he thought what 
could it be. Then he heard a voice as it were of thunder in 
the air, and it said : " Vassal, God has granted thee thy 
penance, which is better here than elsewhere." At that 
word, the lady awoke, and saw the great light, and covered 
her face for fear. At length this light vanished. And 
after this light, Fulk could never see more; but he was 
blind all his days. 

This Fulk was very hospitable and liberal ; and he caused 
the king's road to be turned through his hall at his manor 


Alleston, pur ce que nul estraunge y dust passer s'il 
n'avoit viaunde ou herbergage ou autre honour ou bien 
du suen. Merlyn dit que 

En Bretaigne la Graunde 

Un lou vendra de la Blaunche-Lavmde ; 

xii. dentz avera aguz, 

Sys desouz e sis desus. 

Cely avera si fer regard, 

Qu'il enchacera le leopard 

Hors de la Blaunche-Launde ; 

Tant avera force e vertue graunde. 

Mes nus le savom qe Merlyn 

Le dit par Fouke le fitz Waryn ; 

of Alleston, in order that no stranger might pass there 
without having meat or lodging or other honour or goods of 
his. Merlin says that 

In Britain the Great 

A wolf will come from the White-Launde ; 

Twelve teeth he shall have sharp, 

Six beneath and six above. 

He shall have so fierce a look, 

That he shall drive away the leopard 

Out of the White-Laund ; 

He shall have such great force and virtue. 

But we know that Merlin 

Said it for Fulk Fitz Warine ; 


Quar chescun de vus deit estre ensur 

Qe en le temps le roy Arthur 

La Blanche- Launde fust appelee, 

Qe ore est Blaunche-Vile nomee, 

Quar en eel pays fust la chapele 

De seint Austyn, que fust bele, 

Ou Kahuz le fitz Yweyn sounga 

Qu'il le chaundelabre embla, 

E qe il a un home acountra 

Qe de un cotel le naufra, 

E en la coste le playa ; 

E il en dormaunt si haut cria, 

Qe roi Arthur oy le a, 

E de dormir esveilla. 

For each of you may be sure 
That in the time of king Arthur 
That was called White-Launde, 
Which is now named White Town. 
For in that country was the chapel 
Of St. Augustine, which was fair, 
Where Kahuz the son of Ywein dreamt 
That he stole the candelabrum, 
And that he encountered a man 
Who wounded him with a knife, 
And gave him a wound in the side; 
And in his sleep he cried so loud, 
That king Artur heard him, 
And awoke from his sleep. 


E quant Kahuz fus esveillee, 
Si mist sa meyn a son costee ; 
Le cotel yleqe ad trovee 
Qe par mi ly out naufre. 
Issi nus counte le Graal, 
Le lyvre de le seint vassal. 
Yleqe recovery ly reis Arthur 
Sa bounte e sa valur, 
Quant il avoit tot perdu 
Sa chevalerie e sa vertu. 
De eel pais le lou issist, 
Come ly sage Merlyn dist ; 
E les xij. dentz aguz 
Par son escu avom conuz. 

And when Cahuz was awake, 

He put his hand to his side ; 

There he found the knife 

Which had made the wound in him. 

Thus the Graal tells us, 

The book of the holy vessel. 

There king Arthur recovered 

His goodness and his valour, 

When he had lost all 

His chivalry and his virtue. 

From that country the wolf issued, 

As the wise Merlin says, 

And the twelve sharp teeth 

We have recognised by his shield. 


Yl porta 1'escu endentee, 
Come les disours ont devisee ; 
En 1'escu sunt xii, dentz 
De goules e de argentz. 
Par le leopart puet estre conuz 
Le roy Johan e bien entenduz ; 
Quar il porta en son escu 
Les leopartz de or batu. 

Cesti Fouke remist sept aunz veogle, e soffri bone- 
ment sa penaunce. Dame Clarice morust, e fust ense- 
vely a la Novele Abbeye; apres qi mort, Fouke ne 
vesqui qe un an, e morust a Blaunche-Vyle. E a grant 
honour fust enterre a la Novele-Abbeye ; de la alme de 

He carried a shield indented, 
As the sayers have devised ; 
In the shield are twelve teeth 
Of gules and of argent. 
By the leopard may be known 
And well understood king John ; 
For he carried on his shield 
The leopards of beaten gold. 

This Fulk remained seven years blind, and suffered well 
his penance. Lady Clarice died, and was buried at the New 
Abbey ; after whose death, Fulk lived but a year, and died 
at White-Town. And in great honour was he interred at 
the New Abbey ; on whose soul may God have mercy. Near 


cui Dieus eit merci ! Joste le auter gist le cors. Deus 
eit merci de tons, vifs e mortz ! AMEN ! 

the altar lies the body. God have mercy on us all, alive 
and dead ! AMEN. 



Page 2. Yweyn Goynez. Owen Gwynned, or Gwyneth, 
ruled North Wales from 1137 to 1169, so that there is 
here an anachronism of at least fifty-six years. 

Mont Gylebert. Mount Gilbert was the common name, 
in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, for the Wrekin. 

Vint ou grant ost. The Saxon Chronicle places king 
William's expedition to Wales in 1081. Leland, follow- 
ing the early English poem, says, " William Conqueror 
toke counsel of Corbet and Mortimer for strenkething 
of his marches aboute the quarters of Shropshire agayn 
the Walschmen." 

Page 3. Rogier de Belehealme. This is a mistake of the 
composer of the narrative, who, of course, means 
Roger de Montgomery, to whom the Conqueror gave 
the earldom of Shropshire after 1071, but the exact 
year is not known. The title, de Belesme, belonged 
to earl Roger's first wife, and from her descended to 
their eldest son Robert. 

Une ableye de Seynt-Piere. Shrewsbury Abbey, dedicated 
to St. Peter, was the foundation of Roger de Mont- 
gomery, as here stated. The building appears to have 
been commenced in 1087. 

186 XOTES. 

Brugge. Bridgnorth. Earl Roger did not begin the castel 
here ; but he built a castle at Quatford, which his son 
Robert transferred to " Brugge." 

Dynan. Ludlow. The history of the commencement of 
Ludlow Castle is very obscure, and the territorial 
division of the district, as stated in Domesday, would 
seem to contradict the statement of its being begun by 
earl Roger, or, at least, to render it improbable. Yet 
I cannot but think that there was some foundation for 
the statement of our writer, which was evidently the 
common belief of the locality in the thirteenth century. 

Robert. Robert de Belesme, the eldest son of Roger de 
Montgomery. It was his brother, Hugh de Mont- 
gomery, however, who succeeded his father in the 
Shropshire estates, on whose death they reverted to 
Robert de Belesme. 

Ernaud. Arnulf de Montgomery, Roger's fifth and youngest 
son, had the custody of Pembroke Castle. The violent 
and unprincipled lives of these two brothers are related 
by Ordericus Vitalis. The account of the insurrection 
alluded to on the next page, will be found in Orde- 
ricus, lib. xi, c. 3; and more briefly in Florence of 
Worcester, under the years 1101 and 1102. 

Page 4. Joce, sun chevaler. " Ludlow, in all probability 
came to the hands of Henry I, not by forfeiture of 
Robert de Belesme, but as an escheat of de Lacy ; nor 
is it at all likely that Joceas de Dinan obtained footing 
there under the auspices of Henry I, but of Stephen 
or of the empress." R. w. E. 

Unpount de pere e chaus. This bridge, from the allusions 
to it further on, must have occupied the site of the 

NOTES. 187 

present Castle, or Dinham, bridge; but there is no 
tradition at present of any other than a wooden bridge 
having crossed the river Teme at this place until 
recent times. I am informed by old inhabitants of 
Ludlow that within their recollection the river below 
Dinham was crossed by a wooden bridge for foot 
passengers only, that it was a very old one, and that 
all horses and carriages had to cross a ford, which at 
times became exceedingly dangerous ; in consequence 
of which, the bridge was replaced by a wooden bridge 
for carriages, and about thirty years ago this also was 
taken down, and the present stone bridge erected. 

Page 5. Double fossee. This brief description answers 
exactly to Ludlow Castle as it now stands, the three 
baillies being the keep, the inner court, and the outer 
court. The two fosses were, that which still exists in 
the outer court, and one which separated the wall of 
the outer court from the town, now filled up and 
turned into a promenade. 

Una ville mout large. It is not easy to fix on the site of 
this ruined city, of whom our writer has preserved the 
wild legend that follows. Yet I am inclined to 
think that it may be Old Oswestry. It is worthy, 
however, of remark, that the articles mentioned in p. 10 
are just such as are commonly found, made of bronze, 
on Roman sites. The wrestling match between Corineus 
and Geomagog, or Gogmagog, is well known to every 
reader of the fabulous British history. 

Page 7. Payn PevereL This is another anachronism. 
Payn Peverel was not a contemporary of William the 

188 NOTES. 

Conqueror, but he owed his first advancement to Henry 
I, who gave him the forfeited honour of Brunne, in 

Page 10. Blaunche Laund. The White Laund was 
evidently the district around Whittington ; but I 
have not met with the name elsewhere applied to it. 

Page 12. The boar and the wolf probably refer to the 
badges of the families to whom this prophecy applied. 

Page 14. Meredus fitz Beledyns. Meredith ap Blethyn. 
" Meredith ap Blethyn, the person alluded to, was a 
contemporary of William I, and Prince of North Wales 
at the time when that king invaded it. He died in 
1133. It was his son Madoc whose name became asso- 
ciated with Oswestry, of which he seems to have been 
possessed during the exile of William fitz Alan, in 
Stephen's time. Alan fitz Flaald was not a contem- 
porary of William I. He was advanced by Henry I. 
The same is probably true of Warine de Metz." R. w. E. 

AUyn fitz Flaau. In the abstract of the English poem in 
Leland he is called Alan Fleilsone. 

Samit. The samit was a kind of rich satin, usually inter- 
woven with gold or silver thread, and appears to have 
been rather a favourite material for banners that were 
to be more splendid than usual. The oriflamme of 
France is sometimes spoken of as being of vermeilsamit. 

Alburburs. Alberbury is a village about seven miles to the 
west of Shrewsbury, and eleven from Oswestry. 

Page 16. Payn Peverel morust. " Payn Peverel was 

XOTES. 189 

never lord of the Peak. His successor, William Peverel, 
of Dover and of Brun, was either Payn's own son, or 
his brother's son. William Peverel, of Brun, had no 
neices answering this description. His four sisters 
were his heirs. The wives of the first William fitz 
Alan were a niece of Robert the Consul, and, on her 
death, Isabel de Say, baroness of Clun." R. w. E. 
Leland tells us, from the English poem : " Payne 
Peverel had no issue. But his sister had a sunne, 
caullid William, a worthy knight, that wan the hun- 
dredes of Ellesmere and Melior, and other mo. This 
William in his enterprises was wonded so sore that no 
man beheight hym life ; yet by eating of a sheelde of 
a wilde bore he got an appetite, and after recoverid. 
This William made thre chirches, as testifieth the book 
of the romance." 

Morelas. This ought probably to have been rendered 
" from Morelas to Keyroc." 

ElesmerC) Ma.ylour, e Nauhendon. The town of Ellesmere 
is about five miles north of Whittington. The hundred 
of Maelor was a district in the north-west of Shrop- 
shire, but belonging to the Welsh county of Flint. 
I am not able to identify Nauendon, or Navendon. 

Whytyntone. Whittington, a considerable village, about 
two miles N.N.E. of Oswestry. There are still con- 
siderable and picturesque remains of the Castle, said 
here to have been first built by William Peverel. 

ISewe de KeyrocJc. The river Ceiriog is a tributary of the 
Dee, which it enters on the borders of Denbighshire, 
a few miles below Llangollen. 

Page 18. Fist William uiu crie. " The pretended tourna- 
ment at Peak Castle may be a tradition of some similar 

190 NOTES. 

affair at William Peverel's castle of Whittington. If, 
however, Owen, prince of Wales, was there, it will 
have happened after his accession in 1137, and before 
William Peverel's death in 1147. But Warine de Metz 
must have been married long before, for his sons Roger 
and Fulk attest deeds early in Stephen's reign. There 
is some reason to believe that the Fitz Warines and 
Lestranges were related." R. w. E. 

Page 19. Perhaps it will be the safest to consider all this 
story of the tournament as romance, and not attempt 
to identify the persons mentioned in it. 

Page 23. Si fust apelee Gwy le Estraunge. " Guy 
Lestrange, if, indeed, he were father of the three well 
known brothers of Henry II's time, is mentioned here 
with circumstances of some probability ; but it is the 
only notice we have of the father of those three 
brothers. We know, upon better evidence, that their 
mother was an Englishwoman." R. w. E. 

Yervard, le fitz Yweyn. Jorwerth ap Owen, otherwise 
known as Jorwerth Drwyndwn, or Jorwerth (Edward) 
with the broken nose, from a damage on his face, on 
account of which he was not allowed to succeed his 
father Owen, as prince of Powis. The English poem, 
as abridged by Leland, tells this incident somewhat 
differently. " Gwarine warrid apon the Walschmen, 
and they on him. After the death of Iweynes, Jere- 
verd was prince of that part of Wales. One Roger, 
a stoute knight, and a great owner in Powis lande, 
counselid Jereverde to warre apon Guarine and the 
marches there aboute. Syre Gioun Gaudeline kept 

NOTES. 191 

Whitington, Guarines castel ; and when Jereverd with 
syr Roger was prikking thither-warde, he watchid in 
a marisck and wodde, firste hurting Roger, and then 
Jereverd. Gioun Gaudeline sent one Morgan for help 
to Albourbyri. Guarine cam to the Walschmennis 
campe, and ther Jonas, brother to the aforesaide Roger, 
prikid againe hym. But at the conclusion Jereverde 
was discomfitid, and fledde with his hoste." Leland 
adds in the margin, apparently also from the English 
poem, the following note on the site of the skirmish in 
which Roger and Jorwerth were wounded : " This 
skirmouche was by the Maiden welle, and in the 
Maiden frithe." 

Page 24. Gwy lefitz Candelou de Porkyntone. Porkington 
is a hamlet about three miles from Whittington. 

Apelerent Venfaunt Fouke. " Warine de Metz had two 
sons, Roger and Fulk. The last eventually succeeded 
him, and died about 1171, leaving Fulk II his son 
and heir. It was Fulk II who married Hawyse, 
daughter and coheir of Joceas de Dynan. Fulk II 
died about 1197, leaving Fulk III his son and heir. 
It is of Fulk II and Fulk III principally that this 
narrative speaks, though it combines in the former 
much that can be true only of his father. There is no 
probability whatever that Joceas de Dynan and Walter 
de Lacy were antagonists in Irjeland, or anywhere. 
The former must have been an old man, and deceased 
before the latter attained his majority." R. w. E. 

Le manderent d Joce de Dynan. It was the practice among 
the Normans, almost as generally as among the Celtic 
race, for the chiefs to send their children to be edu- 

192 NOTES. 

cated or " fostered" in the families of other chiefs, 
thus establishing relationships more intimate even 
than those of blood. 

The abstract of the English poem, in Leland, tells 
these events briefly as follows : " Joos, a knight, was 
lefte as a governer to yong Fulco. Guarine and he 
defendid his landes agayne one Walter, the greatest of 
the niarche lordes owt of Lacy and Ludlow. They 
mette at a bent by Bourne, at a bridge ende, a litle 
from Ludlowe. Joos bare a sheeld of sylver, with thre 
blew lyons coronid with gold. Joos had a doughter 
caullid Hawise, whom Fulco Guarine entirely lovid, and 
seyng her in great dolour, askid the cause of her sorow, 
and she answerid that it was no matier for an hauker to 
amende. : and he upon that toke his horse and spere 
to rescow Joos, her father, as one Godarde was aboute 
to streke of his hede ; so that Godarde was slayne of 
hym, and Gualter Lacy dryven away. Then Joos reco- 
vered a horse, and sone woundid syr Arnold, that did 
hym much hurte. Ther Fulco killid one Andrew, a 
knight longging to Walter Lacy. Gualter Lacy and 
syr Arnold were taken prisoners, and put in the castel 
of Ludlow, in a prison caullid Pendover. A gentil- 
woman, caullid Marion, deliverid booth these knighttes 
by treason owte of Pendover, for the love of syr Arnold 
de Lis, one of them, that promisid her falsely mariage." 
Ewyas. The castle of Ewyas, in Herefordshire, named 
from this family Ewyas Lacy, was the head seat of 
Walter de Lacy's barony. 

Page 25. Un tour. Probably one of the towers on the 
north-east side of the castle. 

XOTES. 193 

Page 27. Vers Champ- Geneste. Literally the Broom-field. 
The village of Bromfield is hardly two miles from 
Ludlow. This is an exact description of the scene, as 
it may be viewed from Ludlow Castle, the banks of 
the Teme, the wood of Whitcliff descending towards 
them, and Bromfield in the distance. 

Page 28. Sire Godard de Bruyz. The Bruces were located 
in the marches, and were much concerned in the 
border wars during the twelfth century. William de 
Bruce, lord of Brecon, was one of the most turbulent 
of the border barons towards the end of that century. 

Page 30. Sire Ernalt de Lyls. I have not been able to 
ascertain who this individual was, or if he be merely a 
name of romance. The name, literally Arnald of the 
Lilly, sounds rather poetical. 

Page 31. Quar borgeys relement out vestu Us armes. This 
is an allusion to one of the strong prejudices of feudal 
chivalry. As Joce says, there were instances of 
" burgers" having shewn themselves worthy of bearing 
the armour of a knight ; and such instances are made 
the subject of one or two of the medieval romances, 
but it generally turns out that the upstart had come 
some way or other of gentle blood. 

Pendover. From the sequel, it is evident that this tower 
must have stood at the eastern extremity of the north 
front of the castle. 

Page 32. Marioun de la Eruere. There are still several 
places named the Heath in the neighbourhood of 


194 NOTES. 

Ludlow, from some one of which Marion may have 
taken her name. Chaunbrere is perhaps not well 
represented by the modern English chamber-maid. 
The maidens attendant upon the ladies of knights and 
barons were damsels of gentle blood, who were placed 
with them to learn good manners and the forms of cour- 
tesy, as well as the accomplishments which could only 
be learnt there. They were often numerous, and lived 
with their lady in her chamber (whence their title), 
where they worked with her at embroidery, spinning, 
weaving, needlework, etc. 

Page 34. A sa chapele. This allusion is no doubt to the 
round chapel in the inner court of Ludlow Castle, the 
walls of which still remain, with some good Norman 
arches. It appears from this account to have been 
dedicated to St. Mary Magdalene. 

Seynt Cyryac. The day of St. Cyriac, or Ciriac, was the 
8th of August. The seventy days of pardon were of 
course to be the reward of those who offered up a 
prayer for the founder. 

Que or est apele de plusours Mortemer. It is curious that a 
tower in the outer court (third bailly) of the castle is 
still popularly known by the name of Mortimer's 
Tower, which it thus seems to have retained since the 
thirteenth century ; for I think there is no room for 
doubt that it is identical with the one alluded to in 
the text. 

Page 35. Corner d laver. The regularity with which all the 
domestic operations were carried on in the middle ages 
is well known to readers of the literature of that 

NOTES. 195 

period ; it was the more necessary from the Dumber of 
persons who had to act in unison. The usual signal 
for meals, etc., was the blowing of a horn. 
Gentz d'lrlaunde. The Lacies had large possessions in 
Ireland, in the conquest of which, Hugh de Lacy, the 
father of Walter de Lacy, took an active part, and he 
was rewarded with a grant of the whole county of Meath. 
Un jour d'amour. Love days (dies amoris) were days 
agreed upon for settling differences by umpire, instead 
of having recourse to violence, or to legal proceedings. 
They appear to have been sometimes a means of hinder- 
ing justice, and the ecclesiastics seem generally to have 
managed them, and to have made them a source of 
profit and of temporary enjoyment, for they appear 
usually to have been accompanied with a feast. The 
reader of the fine border poem of Piers Ploughman 
will remember the lines, 

" Ac now is religion a rydere, 

A romere aboute, 

A ledere of love-dayes, 

And a lond-buggere [buyer of land], 

A prikere on a palfrey, 

Fro manere to manere." 1. 6217. 
Chaucer tells us of his friar, who was 

"... over al, ther eny profyt schulde arise, 

Curteys .... and lowe of servyse, 

In love-dayes ther couthe he mochil helpe." 

Canterbury Tales, 1. 260. 

Page 37. Le evesque Robert de . . . . The scribe, for some 
reason or other, has left a blank for the name in the 

o 2 

196 XOTES. 

MS. There were three Roberts, bishops of Hereford, 
in the twelfth century ; Robert de Betun, from 1131 to 
1148; Robert de Melun, from 1162 to 1167; and 
Robert Folio t, from 1174 to 1186. The prelate alluded 
to was probably the latter, who must have been bishop 
about the time of the marriage of the second Fulk 
fitz Warine. 

Vers Hertlande. Hartland in Devonshire. It appears that 
Leland read it Ireland. See the note on p. 48. 

Page 42. Le boys pres de Whyteclyf. The wood adjacent 
to "Whitcliff will be familiar to every one who has 
visited Ludlow. The gardens belonging to the castle 
lay in the meadows to the north, at the foot of the 
rock, and bordering on the river Teme, perhaps ex- 
tending to the river Corve, which runs into the Teme, 
at a very short distance from the castle. 

Page 43. Par le mur derere la chapele. The parapet along 
the wall behind the chapel was the direct way from 
the towers on the north-east of the inner court to the 
entrance of the keep tower, in which the knights who 
guarded the castle, and their attendants, appear to 
have had their lodgings. The watchman must have 
been stationed at this entrance of the keep, just over 
the gateway leading into the outer court, and, there- 
fore, into the town. The object of the assailants was, 
by securing this watchman before he could give an 
alarm, to obtain an easy entrance into the keep tower, 
and take the knights by surprise and in a defenceless 
condition, as they had done before he had whistled his 
" one note." 

NOTES. 197 

Page 46. Unefenestre devers Lyneye. The name of Linney 
is still preserved, and its position, just below that part 
of the castle where the rock is steepest and highest, 
fixes that of the tower of Pendover, the scene of 
Marion's adventures. The state apartments were placed 
here because it was least exposed to attack, and this cir- 
cumstance would also facilitate the enterprise of sir 
Arnald de Lis, as, on account of the impossibility of 
any one entering the castle on that side, except by 
such an act of treason as that here described, no watch- 
men would be stationed there. 

Page 47. La porte de Dynan. The gate of the town, called, 
in modern times, Dinham Gate. The majority of sir 
" Arnold's men had been left outside ; and now that the 
castle had been surprised and taken, they were ad- 
mitted into the town. The original town of Dynan 
was built under the immediate protection of the castle, 
and probably occupied only that part of the present 
town in and adjacent to what is still called Dinham. 
No doubt one of the two names is only a corruption of 
the other. 

Page 48. A ce qe Vestoyre dyt, i.e., " As it is related in the 
original narrative, of which this is a paraphrase." The 
following is Leland's abridgment of this part of the 
English metrical history, in which there appears to 
have been mention of at least one individual, Owen of 
Cornwall, who does not figure in our Anglo-Norman his- 
tory. It may be remarked, that the Cornwalls were esta- 
blished in this neighbourhood, but not till the century 
following. " Fulco Guarrine weddid Hawise, doughter 

198 NOTES. 

to Joos, at Ludlow castelle. Joos and Fulco Guarine 
toke a journey into Ireland. Marion taried, faming 
sikenes, behinde, and write a lettre to her love sir 
Arnold de Lis, to cum secretely to her up into the 
castel with a lader of leder and cordes. Owen of 
Cornewale. Arnold cam acording to Marions desier, 
and had his pleasure of her ; and sone after cam his 
bande, and secretely scalinge the walles killid the 
castellanes. Then Mariane, seing this treason, lept 
owte of a toure, and brake her nek. And Arnold killid 
aftir many of the burgeses of Ludlow toune, sparing 
nother wife, widow, nor childe. Walter Lacy, hering 
that the castel and toune of Ludlow was won, cam with 
his band thither, and rnannid and vitailid Ludlow, 
keping it as his owne. This tidinges was tolde to Joos 
lying at Lambourne." 

Page 49. A chastel Key .... Keyenhom. Caynham camp, 
a well-known entrenched hill, about two miles to the 
eastward of Ludlow. There are still traces of the re- 
mains of building upon it, and pieces of mortar are 
picked up in the ground, of very ancient character, I 
think not improbably Saxon. It is curious that at 
the early period of this history it should be already a 
ruin. There was a well towards the eastern end of the 
inclosure, which has only been filled up at a very 
recent period. I think it not improbable that it was 
originally a Roman post. 

Key, le seneschal mon sire Arthur. Sir Key, or Cay, the 
well-known seneschal or steward of king Arthur's court, 
holds a very prominent place in the romances of this 
cycle. The way in which the legend has here, and in 

NOTES. 199 

other parts of this history, been located on the border, 
is extremely curious. 

Page 50. Treblees. I may mention, that in one or two 
instances in this book, I have been obliged to trans- 
late a word rather by guess than with a certain 
knowledge of its meaning, and I am not sure that the 
interpretation I have given to this word is correct. 

Page 51. Fochun. The objective case of FouJce, as Gioun t 
in the extract from Leland in an ensuing note, is of 
Guy. This objective case of proper names in on or oun 
is constantly used in the Anglo-Norman and early 
French romances ; but it was already becoming obso- 
lete when our prose text was written. 

Page 52. Tervard Droyndoun. " Jorwerth Drwyndwn, 
eldest son of Owen Gwyneth, was never prince of 
North Wales. His and his son's exclusion from the 
government, if not originally suggested by the con- 
trivance of Henry II, was perpetuated by the policy of 
that king, and of Richard I. The narrative in this 
part, and indeed throughout, gives a glimmering allu- 
sion to facts which we know, from other sources, to 
have had an existence. The way in which such facts 
are combined is, on the other hand, in defiance of all 
chronology. For instance, the inveterate hostility of 
Jorwerth Drwyndwn to the English king, the dis- 
affection of Walter de Lacy, the sometime possession 
of Ellesmere by the last William Peverel of Brun, are 
all facts ; but the earliest and latest of these facts were 
separated by an interval of half a century." E. w. E. 

200 NOTES. 

Page 53. Roger de Pouwys e Jonas son frere. Roger de 
Powis and his brother Jonas were both in the service and 
pay of king Henry II. Roger had two sons, Meredyth 
and Meurich, the latter of whom was the Morice of 
our history. Roger and his eldest son died between 
1179 and 1187. Meurich fitz Roger went with king 
Richard to Normandy in 1194, and was under the 
constant patronage of that king; he seems to have 
died about A.D. 1200, which proves the inaccuracy of 
several passages in the narrative. His son, Wrenock, 
succeeded him, and was deprived of Whittington in 
consequence of king John's reconciliation with the 
Fitz Warines ; but he was in the pay of the English 
crown till 1224. Wianus, son of Jonas de Powis, 
occurs as receiving favours from kings Richard and 
John from 1194 to 1209. 

Page 55. Yweyn Keyvelloke. Owen Cyveilioc was the 
nephew of Madoc ap Meredydh, prince of Powis, and 
held considerable estates in that principality. Owen 
was prince of Higher Powis, Madoc of Powis Vadoc, 
or Lower Powis. He was one of the chiefs who acknow- 
ledged the sovereignty of England ; but he often sided 
with the Welsh princes against the English king, and 
on either side he was an active partizan. 

Page 56. A Rothelan. Rhuddlan, in Flintshire. 

Leland has, in this part of the story, singularly mis- 
understood his original. " Gualter Lacy sent to the 
prince of Wales for help, and he cam wynning by the way 
Whitington, the which Gioun Gaudelines sunne had 
kept a while, but after he was taken prisoner, and sent 

NOTES. 201 

to the Rutheland. Deonoan, a place aboute Ludlo, 
wither the prince of Wales with his men resortid to 
help Lacy. Fulco Guarine hurte the prince of Wales 
in the shoulder, and drave hym to a castelle caullid 
Cayhome, where Cay had be lorde, and there asseging 
by thre days parte of the princes men, killid many of 
them at a certen issue. Fulco was woundid, and yet 
roode to mete king Henry by Glocestre, of whom he 
was welle interteynid as his kinnesman, and there had 
his wounde that Arnoldes brother gave hym yn the 
waste welle helid." 

Leland has noted in the margin that Deonoan may 
be Deouoan, or Deovoan, but I cannot identify the 
place alluded to. 

A Gloucestre. It would perhaps be a fruitless labour to 
trace the exact visit of king Henry to Gloucester, here 
alluded to; he was there in the year 1175, when, in 
consequence of the troubled state of the border, king 
Henry held a great council in that city. Many of the 
Welsh princes came to him here, and made their peace, 
and Jorwerth Drwyndwn himself at last followed 
their example. At a council held in 1177 at Oxford, 
David, prince of North Wales, Rhys ap Gryffydh, and 
Owen Cyveilioc, and other chieftains in Powis, came 
upon Henry's summons to confer with him on the 
state of their country. It was on this occasion that 
the king granted Ellesmere to David, prince of North 
Wales, and the territory of Merioneth to Rhys ap 
Gryffydh. The king appears to have been at Gloucester 
again in 1179 and in 1184, and perhaps in other years. 

Apres soper. It must be borne in mind, that the hours of 
the domestic meals differed very widely from those of 
the present day. The king's hour of supper was pro- 

202 NOTES. 

bably four o'clock in the afternoon, his dinner hour 
being ten in the morning. These continued during 
several centuries to be the regular hours of dinner and 
supper both in England and France. So late as the 
year 1510, a letter, written from the court of Louis XII, 
tells us, " Apres souper, environ entre quatre et cinq, 
nous allasmes avec le roy chasser au parcq." 

Page 58. Outre Whyteclyf. The original high road down 
the border was of course the Roman road, which is 
still called the Watling Street (though it is not the 
real Watling Street), and ran through Clungunford, 
Leintwardine, Wigmore, and Aymestrey, and so on 
direct to Hereford, or rather to Kenchester. At an 
early period, a part of this road, to the north of 
Wigmore, seems to have been deserted, and travellers 
turned down the valley of the Oney, to Bromfield, and 
thence apparently on the western side of the Teme to 
Ludlow Castle ; they appear then to have turned over 
Whitcliff hill, and to have joined the old road again at 
Wigmore. Ludlow Castle thus protected as well as com- 
manded the road, and merchants and travellers might 
be subjected to any exactions as they passed, Fulk fitz 
Warine, when he escapes from a skirmish, which is 
represented as taking place between Caynham and 
Ludlow, goes "over" or "beyond" WhitclifF, on his way 
to Gloucester, which he would not have done by the 
present road from Ludlow to Leominster and Hereford. 
Giraldus Cambrensis seems to have passed by Bromfield, 
under Ludlow Castle (without entering the town), and 
onward to Leominster, by this road. 

Page 59. A Lambourne. Larnburne, in Berkshire. 

NOTES. 203 

Elyjist conestable. This is probably an error: we have no 
evidence that this office was ever given to Fulk fitz 
Warine, and all the facts we know lead us to believe 
the contrary. 

Page 60. Delees Herford, a Wormeslowe. It is not easy to 
decide whether this be meant for Wormlow, about five 
miles to the south-west, or Wormseley, about eight miles 
to the north-east of Hereford; but probably the latter. 
The battle is not recorded in any of the chronicles. 

Vus doin-je Alleston. " The allusion is to Alveston, in 
Gloucestershire, undoubtedly a manor of the Fitz 
Warines, but given to them much earlier than the 
period indicated. The first Fulk fitz Warine held it 
in capite in 1156." E. w. E. 

Page 61. Lewis, lefitz Yervard. The lady to whom prince 
Lewis was married was a natural daughter of king 
John, and not of Henry II, and the marriage took place 
in 1204, many years after the events here related. It 
is true that the lordship of Ellesmere was given with 
the princess as her dower; but other parts of the 
statement are inaccurate. " It was Henry II who gave 
Whittington to Roger de Powis. It is hardly possible 
that the claim of the Fitz Warines on Whittington 
arose from any blood relationship to the Peverels, but 
much more probably by feoffment. It may confidently 
be asserted, that from 1140 to 1200 no Fitz Warine 
was tenant in capite of Whittington. Neither, as under 
tenant, was any Fitz Warine of the twelfth century 
the sole tenant of Whittington. A portion thereof was 
held by d'Engaine, independently of Fitz Warine, and 

204 NOTES. 

d'Engaine's tenure was certainly by feoffment of (not 
by inheritance from) Peverel." R. w. E. 

Page 62. Sibile d Payn le fitz Johan. This is 

another error. " Sibil, the eldest daughter and co-heir 
of Joceas de Dynan, was wife of Hugh de Plugenai. 
Both Sibil and Hawyse were widows in 1199, their re- 
spective husbands having died within the five years 
previous. As to Sibil, wife of Pain fitz John, though 
I cannot undertake to name her parentage, she was 
married before 1125, and her husband was killed in 
1136." R. w. E. 

Page 63. Juauntz d eschekes. Chess was the fashionable 
game at this period, and indeed generally, from the 
time the Western Christians first became acquainted 
with the Saracens, to the introduction of cards. The 
Anglo-Norman princes and barons were great chess 
players. The game of the Anglo-Saxons was tcefd, 
something of the nature of our backgammon. 

Page 64. Baudivyn de Hodenet. Baldwin de Hodnet was 
hereditary seneschal of Montgomery castle, and held 
Hodnet in capite by that service. He also held 
Westbury, under the barons Corbet of Caus, and Fitz 
Warine was vassal of the same barons at Alderbury. 
It is very probable that Fitz Warine and he were 
relations, as here stated; they are found attesting 
jointly deeds of the Corbets, and Baldwin's partici- 
pation in Fitz Warine's rebellion and forfeiture is 
proved by the contemporary records. " The narrative 
here begins to be much more consistent with chrono- 

NOTES. 205 

logical probability. Baldwin de Hodnet is introduced 
under circumstances wonderfully consonant with what 
else is known of him. The time of the death of Fulk 
fitz Warine II, and his son's succession, are also cor- 
rectly indicated (allowing for the writer's ignorance of 
the existence of Fulk I)." R. w. E. 

Fouke le Brun, lur piere, morust. Fulk II died before 1199, 
but after king Richard's return from the Holy Land. 
. Leland's abridgment of the English poem adds here, 
" King Henry dubbid Fulco and thre of his bretherne 
knightes at Winchester, and also Balduine with them. 
Fulco the secunde was warring yn Lotabardy at such 
tyme as hys father died. Fulco the first byried at 
New Abbay, by Alberbyry. King Richarde the first 
goyng into the Holy Lande left Fulco the secunde to 
kepe the marches of Walys." 

Page 66. Al chastiel Baudwyn. Montgomery is still 
called by the Welsh Baldwin's town (Tref Faldwyn). 

Un girfaut tut llanc muer. The falcons and hawks of 
Wales were highly prized, at a time when falconry 
was so much in fashion. They were often, therefore, 
given as most acceptable presents by the Welsh chief- 
tains to the kings of England, or exacted by the latter 
as tribute or fines. When, on the invasion of Wales 
by king John, the bishop of Bangor was taken prisoner, 
his ransom was fixed at two hundred hawks. 

Donqe vint Noryz. Meurich, the son of Roger de Powis, 
did fine with king John for Whittington, but the fine, 
instead of a hundred pounds, was fifty or sixty marks. 
A subsequent fine of his son Wrenoch is variously 
stated at eighty marks and two palfreys, or a hundred 
pounds and four palfreys. 

206 NOTES. 

Page 67. Que le roy velsist receyvre de lur c. lyvres. 
"Fulk fitz Warine's counter-fine of 100 is as cor- 
rectly stated as if the writer had seen the Oblata 
roll." R. w. E. 

Page. 70. Gyrart de Fraunce, Pieres de Avynoun, e sire 
Amys le Marchys. These names sound so much like 
those of heroes of romance, that we should hardly look 
for them in sober history. 

Page 71. A Wyncestre. King John was at Winchester on 
the 6th and 7th of May, 1201, and he was not there 
again until after the date of Fulk fitz Warine's pardon. 

Audolf de Bracy, son cosyn. " Audulf de Bracy was of 
Meole, near Shrewsbury. Several generations of the 
family bore the same Christian name of Audulf. The 
individual here mentioned was, in the time of king 
John, involved in a great litigation with his suzerain, 
Roger de Mortimer, of Wigmore, as to the tenure of 
the manor of Meole, which is still known as Meole- 
Brace." R. w. E. 

A Huggeford, d mon sire Water de Huggeford. Huggeford 
is Higford, near Shiffnall. " Sir Walter de Huggeford 
was lord of this manor in king John's time, but dame 
Emeline was more probably the widow of his father, 
another Walter." R. w. E. 

Page 72. Dame Vyleyne .... mes son dreit noun fust 
Emelyne. Emeline, or Elvina, de Huggeford was a 
widow before the death of Richard I, so that Fulk 
could not have repaired to her husband at the time of 
which we are now speaking. 

XOTES. 207 

Une foreste q'est apellee Babbyng. Perhaps this is what is 
now called Babies Wood, about a mile and a half to 
the south-east of Whittington, the modern name being 
a corruption of the old one. 

Page 73. Guy de la Montaigne . . Aaron de Clerfountaygne. 
These are perhaps translations of well known names on 
the border, which it would not be very easy to identify. 
They appear to have been Welshmen. 

Page 75. A la foreste de Bradene. Leland calls this forest 
Holt, as will be seen in the extract in a subsequent 
note, mistaking the English word holt, a wood, for a 
proper name. 

E xxiiij. serjauntz. In giving the literal representative of 
this word in the translation, I hope the general reader 
will not be led into any misunderstanding. The word 
sergeant, derived from the Latin serviens, belonged 
properly to a class of men at arms who were bound to 
a particular service ; but it was also applied more 
usually to hired fighting men or guards, and was 
generally employed almost in the sense of our soldiers. 

Page 78. Un chapelet de rose vermayl. The wearing of 
garlands or chaplets of flowers, especially of roses, was 
a very common piece of gallantry, or of foppery, in the 
middle ages, and is frequently alluded to in the old 

Page 80. Johan Malveysyn. William Malveissin is men- 
tioned in the records, which will be given in a subse- 
quent note, as one of the outlaws of Fulke's party, who 

208 NOTES. 

received his pardon of king John at the same time as 
his chief. " There were Mauveysyns in Shropshire, 
lords of Berwich, near Atcham, still known as Berwich 
Maviston. I know of no other interest of theirs, more 
immediately connecting them with the border. Their 
tenure of Berwich was, however, under Fitz Alan. The 
Mauveysyn who was lord of Berwich in John's reign 
was not John, nor yet William." E. w. E. 
Les treis freres de Cosham. I have not been able to ascer- 
tain who these three brothers were ; and it would be in 
vain to try to identify several of the persons who are 
mentioned in the following pages. 

Page 85. Hubert, Varcevesque de Caunterlures. Hubert 
Walter was archbishop of Canterbury from 1193 to 1205. 

Page 86. Thebaud le Botiler. Theobald Walter, the 
brother of archbishop Hubert, accompanied Henry II 
into Ireland in 1171, and that monarch conferred upon 
him the office of chief butler of Ireland. He also ac- 
companied prince John into Ireland in 1185. It was 
his son, however, who first assumed the surname of 
Le Botiler, or Butler, in 1221. This Theobald Walter 
was the ancestor of the dukes and marquises of Ormond. 
He is said to have died in 1206, which would overthrow 
the whole of this romantic story of the manner of the 
marriage of Fulk fitz Warine with his widow. The 
latter was the daughter and heir of Robert Vavasour, 
a Yorkshire baron. 

Que ele avoit en Yrlaunde. It need hardly be stated that 
the Butlers were among the great Irish barons. 
Theobald Walter possessed the baronies of Upper and 
Lower Orrnond, besides numerous other territories. 

NOTES. 209 

Page 87. Esposa dame Mahaud de Cans. Of this mar- 
riage there can be no doubt, as appears by the following 
documents taken from the Close Rolls of the ninth of 
king John, that is A.D. 1207, which seem to confirm 
the statement that Theobald Walter died in 1206. 

" Rex Willelmo de Breosa, etc. Mandamus vobis 
quod sine dilatione faciatis habere Fulconi filio Warini 
et Matildae quae fuit uxor Theobaldi Walteri, vel 
certo nuncio suo, rationabilem dotem ipsius Matildae 
quae earn contingit, scilicet tertiam partem de liberis 
tenementis quae ipse Th. Walterus de nobis tenuit in 
Hibernia ; quia reddidimus praedictis Fulconi et Matildae 
maritagium et dotem ipsius Matildas integra sicut ea 
concesseramus prius Roberto Vavasur, patri ipsius 
Matildse. Teste Gr. filio Petri, apud Wintoniam, j. die 
Octobris. Sub eadem forma scribitur Waltero de 
Lascy. Sub eadem forma scribitur comiti W. Marescallo. 
Idem Fulco habet litteras ad justiciarium Hiberniae, sub 
eadem forma quam habuit Theobaldus Walteri ad 
eundem justiciarium. Idem Fulco et Matilda habent 
litteras had vicecomitem Lancastriae, sub tali forma 
quam Theobaldus Walteri ad eundem vicecomitem. 

" Rex vicecomiti Norfolcensi, etc. Praecipimus tibi 
quod de omnibus terris quae fuerunt Theobaldo Walteri 
in balliva tua, facias habere Fulconi filio Warini et 
Matildae uxori ejus, quae fuit uxor Theobaldi Walteri, 
suum tertium sine dilatione. Teste Gr. filio Petri, 
apud Wintoniam, j. die Octobris." 

Page 88. Pieres de Eruvyle. He is called Bromeville by 
Leland, whose account of these events, abridged from 
the English poem, is as follows ; 

210 . NOTES. 

" Morice, sunne to Roger that had Whitington 
castel gyven hym by the prince of Wales, was made 
governor of the marchis by king John, that yn no wise 
lovid Fulco Guaryne. Moryce desirid to have the title 
of Whitington confermed to hym by the brode seale of 
king John, to whome he sent a cursore welle trappid 
to Balduines castel, and obtainid his purpose. Fulco 
and his brethern, with Balduine, desired justes of king 
John for Whitington. But he could have no gratious 
answer. Wherfore he and his bretherne forsakid their 
homage to king John, and went from Winchester. King 
John sent one Gerard, a lorde of Fraunce, and xv. 
knightes with hym, to recounter with Fulco and his 
bretherne. But Gerard was slayn of them, and the 
knighttes discomfitid. Hawise counselid Fulke and 
the residew of her sunnes to flee into Litle Britane, 
and so they did, taking Bawdewine and Bracy with 
them. King John seasid Fulcos landes. In the meane 
season Hawise their mother died for thought. And 
they after shortely returnid into England, cumming to 
Hugforde and to sir Gualter and Emeline their aunt. 
Syr Maurice bare in a grene shild thre bore of golde, 
and borderid of sylver, with asure floures, fulle faire. 
Fulco and his brethern put Morice to flite. Bracy did 
hurt Maurice on the sholdre. King John caussid a 
hunderith knightes to seke Fulco and his brethern, 
and apon that they fled to Holt woode, and there got 
a greate pray of sylkes and baudekins preparid for 
king John. King John sent oute many knightes to 
take Fulco, and made Gilbert de Mount Frerraunt 
theire captaine, whom Fulke and his bretherne did 
kille. Fulco and his brethern sone weried with fight- 

NOTES. 211 

ing fledde to an abbay. Fulco after killid Gerard de 
Maunce, an aunciente ennemye of his, and one that 
rode with other knightes to seke hym. Fulco and his 
brethern fled to Hugforde. Hubert archebisshop of 
Cauiitorbyri willid Fulco prively to resort to hym to 
mary one Maude, that was his brothers wife, that 
descendid of Caurs blode. But after he had maried 
her, he taried but two dayes, and was fayne yet to 
escue and fly the kinges displeasure. Fulco fledde to 
Robert Sampson, and yn those quarters one Pers 
Bromeville, a perilous knight, soute him ; and yet at 
the laste Fulco forcid Pers Bromeville to smite of the 
hedes of certeu of his owiie company ; and then Fulco 
did smite of Pers hedde hymselfe." 

E autre rybaudayle. The ribalds formed a class, or caste, 
of society in the middle ages, consisting of persons who 
seem to have been considered out of the pale of the 
laws and of morality ; they had no particular occu- 
pation, but lived upon the overflo wings of people's 
tables, and were ready to perform any infamous act or 
outrage that might be required of them. Of such 
people it was easy for men like this Piers de Bruvyle 
to form a band of brigands who would carry no scruples 
with them to the work of depredation. This anecdote 
forms a lively picture of the condition of the country 
in the thirteenth century. 

Page 92. A mettre lesfers a, revzrs. We are told that when 
the Scottish patriot, Robert Bruce, fled from London 
to head a rising of his countrymen, he adopted this 
same expedient of having his horse shoed with the shoes 
turned backward, in order to deceive his pursuers. It 

p 2 

212 NOTES. 

seems to have been not an uncommon trick in the 
middle ages. 

Jokan de Raunpaygne. The jogelour, or minstrel, was so 
welcome a guest wherever he went, that he was often 
employed as a spy, or the guise of a minstrel adopted 
for that purpose. The account given here is an admir- 
able and correct picture of a minstrel of this period. 
Here, again, Leland must have singularly misunderstood 
the words of his English poem. " Fulco resortid to one 
John of Raumpayne, a sothsayer, and jocular, and 
minstrelle, and made hym his spy to Morice at Whit- 
ington. Fulco and his bretherne laide waite for Morice 
as he went toward Salesbyri ; and Fulco there woundid 
hym, and Bracy cut of Morice hedde. The sunnes of 
Gaudeline were with Fulco at this skirmouche." 

Page 95. Vers le pas de Nesse. Ness is a parish about 
seven miles to the north-west of Shrewsbury, through 
which the road runs from that town to Oswestry and 
Whittington. The scene of this adventure was perhaps 
the neighbourhood of the hill called Ness- cliff, which 
overlooks the road, and in the state of the country at 
that time was probably the best position along the 
road for laying in ambush to intercept a party going 
to Shrewsbury. 

Page 96. Sire Lewys, le prince. By Lewys, we must of 
course understand Llewellyn, the prince of Wales, who 
married king John's illegitimate daughter, Joane. 

Page 98. Entre le prince Lewys e Guenonwyn. Grwen- 
wynwyn succeeded to the sovereignty of the higher 

NOTES. 213 

Powis on the death of his father, Owen Cyveilioc, in 
1197. In 1201, Llewelyn prince of North Wales, at 
peace with king John, called a great council of the 
Welsh chieftains to receive their fealties as their 
suzerain, at which Gwenwynwyn refused to attend. 
Llewelyn, with the authority of the whole assembly of 
chieftains, made war upon the prince of Powis, and 
invaded his territories ; but through the mediation of 
mutual friends, a reconciliation was effected, and 
Gwenwynwyn made his submission. These events 
occurred just about the time of this part of the adven- 
tures of Fulk fitz Warine, and seem to be those 
alluded to in the text. 

Le chastel Metheyn. Probably Mathrafal, in Montgomery- 
shire, an ancient palace of the princes of Powis, where 
a castle was built early in John's reign. 

Mochnant. The wild romantic valley of Mochnant, on the 
borders of the counties of Denbigh and Merioneth, is 
well-known to travellers in search of Welsh scenery, 
on account of its lofty cataract, the celebrated Pistyl- 

Lannerth. Llanerch, in Denbighshire. 

Page 100. A Salobures. At Shrewsbury. King John him- 
self was not at Shrewsbury until the latter days of the 
month of January 1209, long after Fulk and his com- 
panions had been pardoned, so that, so far as relates 
to the presence of the king in these transactions, the 
narrative here cannot be correct. The narrator may, 
however, have inserted here the traditionary account 
of events which really occurred in king John's expe- 
dition against the Welsh at a subsequent date. The 

214 NOTES. 

king was, however, on the border immediately after 
his coronation. He was at Gloucester on the 29th and 
30th of October, 1200 ; at Westbury, on the 30th and 
31st of the same month ; at St. Briavells, from the 1st 
to the 3rd of November ; at Hereford, on the 4th and 
5th ; at Ledbury, on the 6bh ; at Upton Bishop, on the 
7th ; at Feckenham, on the 8th and 9th ; at Bridge- 
north, from the llth to the 14th ; and on the 15th at 
Haywood, in Nottinghamshire, on his return. 

Page 101. Al chastel Ealaham en Pentlyn. It is called 
Balaha in p. 115, and was no doubt Bala, in Merioneth- 
shire, called by Powell, sub annis 1202-3, "Bala in 

Le Gue Gymele, The description is not sufficiently pre- 
cise to make it easy to identify the locality here alluded 
to, though it is a question well worth investigation. 
The dyke spoken of was probably an ancient earth- 
work. The liaut chemyn, which is spoken of as a cause- 
way, was perhaps a Roman road, which seems to have 
run along the valley of the Dee. 

Page 104. Johan Lestraunge, seignour de Knokyn e de 
Rutone. Knockin and Ruyton are respectively about 
eight miles S.S.E., and twelve miles S.E. of Oswestry. 
The Lestranges of Knockin are said to have been 
descended from the youngest of the sons of the Guy 
Lestrange who figures in the earlier pages of this 
history, of whom the John Lestrange, here mentioned, 
was a grandson. The truth of the statement that his 
castles had been destroyed in the border wars of king 

NOTES. 215 

John's reign, is proved by the circumstance, that in 
the 3rd of Henry III, he obtained the king's precept to 
the sheriff of Shropshire for aid to rebuild his castle of 
Knockin. John Lestrange's steady adherence to king 
John is proved by abundant evidence, and this fidelity 
is spoken of years afterwards by Henry III in granting 
Wrockwardine to his son. 

Page 105. Sire Henre de Audelee. Henry de Audley, or 
Alditheley, the founder of the great family of the 
Audleys, was distinguished by his attachment to the 
cause of king John during the whole of his wars with 
the barons, Henry de Audley built Redcastle, in 
Shropshire, in the reign of Henry III. 

Page 106. Al pas de Mudle. Middle is a village about 
seven miles to the north of Shrewsbury, at which are 
the remains of a castle erected there to command the 
valley or pass. 

Sire Thomas Corbet. The Corbets were lords of Caus in 
Shropshire. Thomas Corbet was eldest sou of Robert 
Corbet, baron of Caus ; but as his father survived king 
John, he was not himself lord of Caus during that 
king's reign. Thomas Corbet's disaffection, however, 
which lasted till the end of John's reign, was made the 
ground of proceedings against the father, and his 
castle of Caus was seized to the crown, and was not 
restored until the third of Henry IIL " If Thomas 
Corbet were in arms with Fitz Warine at the very 
beginning of the thirteenth century, he must have 
lived to an extraordinary age, for he died, I think, in 

216 NOTES. 

1273. I do not, however, question the accuracy of the 
chronicle in this matter, and there are other evidences 
of Thomas Corbet's entry upon active life, at least as 
early as the time here implied." R. w. E. 

Page 111. Jo/tan comen$a un chanson. The whole of 
these adventures of John de Rampaigne furnish a 
most interesting picture of the manners of the min- 
strels in the middle ages, and the anecdote of his 
making himself known to the prisoner by a song, will 
remind the reader of the story of Richard I, when in 
prison, and the troubadour, Blondel de Nesle. 

Page 112. Qe ert xij. lywes de Salobures. Whittington is 
sixteen miles from Shrewsbury; so that this would 
give about a mile and a half of our present measure to 
the league, according to the estimate of the thirteenth 

Page 113. A master. To the minster or cathedral of 

Hauwyse, qe pus fust dame de Wemme. " Ha wise must 
have married William Pantulf, baron of Wem. This is 
the only record I have met with of the marriage, which 
is, however, very probable ; for on the death of William 
Pantulf, in 1233, Fulk fitz Warine purchased the 
wardship and marriage of his infant heirs (Fines, vol. i, 
p. 237)." R. w. E. 

A la eglise nostre dame a Salobures. St. Mary's is one of 
the most interesting churches in Shrewsbury, and a 
great part of the building is the same which was 

NOTES. 217 

standing at the time when the lady Maude is said to 
have taken refuge in it. 

Page 114. Jokane, qe pus fust mariee d sire Henre de 
Penebrugge. This statement is correct. Sir Henry de 
Pembridge, of Peinbridge in Herefordshire, was sheriff' 
of that county in the 42nd and 43rd Henry III. Pem- 
bridge is a village about half-way between Leorninster 
and Kington. 

La fontaigne de Puceles. Leland, from the English poem, 
calls this the Maiden-frith; but I can identify 
neither it nor Carreganant, mentioned in connexion 
with it. 

Page 117. Le roy Phelip de Fraunce. Philip II, who 
occupied the French throne from 1180 to 1223. The 
known hostility of Philip to king John, gives a great 
air of probability to this part of the story, and at the 
time at which it may be supposed to have occurred, 
there was a temporary but insincere peace between 
the two monarchs, which ended after the murder of 
Arthur of Britany, in 1202. It is hardly worth the 
labour to attempt to ascertain if such a person as sire 
Druz de Montbener ever existed, or who he was. 

Page 120. Ainys del Boys. The name thus assumed by 
Fulk fitz Warine, which means literally Amys of the 
Wood, is quite in character with his position as an 

After relating the death of Moris fitz Roger, Leland 
continues his abridgement from the English poem as 
follows : " Fulco fledde to Balahames castelle. Syr 

218 NOTES. 

Iweine Kandelokes sunnes. Mountcler adversary to 
Fulco. The prince of Wales, Morice being deade, 
restorid Fulk to Whitington. Leugen, Lewis, and 
Straunge, gentilnien of the marchis. Fulco had robbid 
Ruyton, a castel longging to Straunge. Henry [de 
Audley], an hardy knight, was lord of Heley. Syr 
Bracy was sore woundid, and token, and brought by 
Audeleghe to king John. Straunge was sore woundid, 
and brought to Blakrner. John Rampayne founde 
the meanes to caste them that kepte Bracy into a 
deadely slepe, and so he and Bracy cam to Fulco to 
Whitington. Maude had by Fulco a doughter caullid 

Ha wise, and she was weddid to Maude had 

after another doughter, whom the erle of Pembroke 
weddid. After Maude had a sunne, christenid in the 
Maiden frithe, and caullid John, and at confirmation 
namid Fulco. Mawde was ever much welcum to 
Johan, sister to king John, and wife to Lewys prince 
of Wales. King John prively sent to prince Lewys 
that he should by sum polycie take Fulco and his 
bretherne and hed them. But Johan, wife to Lewys, 
caussid Maude to waren Fulco and his bretherne of 
this, and apon that they fled into Fraunce, wher Fulco 
did get much honor yn justes, and namid hymself 
syr Amice." 

Page 123. De quel mort morust ton pere. This anecdote 
is not new, but was, if I remember right, taken from 
one of the old classical writers. The adventures of 
Fulk in the Northern Seas are rather too marvellous in 
character to invite much critical investigation, and I 
may merely observe, that they are in perfect accord- 

NOTES. 219 

ance with the general knowledge (or rather, in this 
case, ignorance) and belief of people of that age with 
regard to the regions he is said to have visited. 

Page 132. Si robleours e larouns noun. The reader need 
hardly be informed that piracy was a general occu- 
pation of the inhabitants of the Northern Islands, the 
descendants of the old vikings. 

Page 133. La Graunde-Eschanye. Scania or Scandia, or, 
as we now call it, Scandinavia. 

Page 134. E uncore nulle beste veny mouse. The story of 
the expulsion of the venomous animals from Ireland 
by St. Patrick, is so well known, that it is hardly 
necessary to illustrate this passage. Giraldus Cam- 
brensis, Topog. Hibern., c. 23, says, " Inter ornnia ver- 
mium genera, solis non nocivis Hibernia gaudet, 
venenosis enim omnibus caret. Caret serpentibus et 
colubris ; caret bufonibus et ranis ; caret tortuis et 
scorpionibus, caret et draconibus. Habet tamen, 
araneas, habet sanguisugas, habet et lacertas, sed pror- 
sus innocuas." 

Page 135. E a seint Clement. St. Clement was the patron 
of sailors, and is generally figured with an anchor. 

Page 136. Al due de Cartage, qe tient de le roy de Yberye. 
We are probably to understand by this, Cartagena, in 

Page 144. Qe le roy Johan fust a Wyndesoure. One inci- 

220 NOTES. 

dent in the adventures in Windsor forest, that with 
the collier, bears rather a close resemblance to one in 
the French metrical history of Eustace le Moine. 

Page 145. Une trible. I have translated this by the word 
triblet, as the only one I could get which seems to 
answer to it. It was, perhaps, a rod of iron, used in 
arranging the wood for burning ; though it is by no 
means impossible that we ought to read crible, a sieve. 
In the manuscripts it is impossible to distinguish be- 
tween c and t. 

X. besantz. The value of a besant is variously estimated at 
from ten to twenty sols. It was a foreign coin of gold, 
receiving its name from Byzantium, and it is therefore 
quite in character that it should be the money which 
the adventurers would possess on their return from 
their strange wanderings abroad. 

Page 149. Sire James de Normandie, que fust cosyn 
le roy. I can find no account of this near relative to 

Rondulf le counte de Cestre. This was the celebrated Ran- 
dulf earl of Chester, who, having been born at Oswestry, 
and being so much connected with the border, could 
not but feel an interest in the Fitz Warines. The 
knight of Normandy was quite correct in his estimate 
of the great connexions which the Fitz Warines had 
among the English barons. Earl Randulf remained 
steady to the royal cause during his wars with the 
barons. The earl marshal mentioned here, was the no 
less celebrated Hugh Bigot. 

NOTES. 221 

Page 155. Sire Berard de Blees. Blees is of course Blois. 

Page 157. En la mer pres de Espaigne est une ysle 

apelee Beteloye. Perhaps this name is made up from 
one of the names Baetulo or Betuli, placed in Spain by 
the ancient geographers. 

Now that Fulke and his companions proceed abroad, 
the whole becomes again a mere romance, and we 
might as well imagine ourselves reading Guy of 
Warwick, or Bevis of Hampton, or any other romance 
of that class, some of which perhaps furnished the in- 
cidents of our story. 

Page 163. Plust d dieu Malioun. Mahoun is the mediaeval 
form of the word Mahomet, whom the popular belief of 
the West turned into an idol, and by degrees it became 
customary to call any idol a Mahoun. Here, however, 
it is evidently used to signify the god of the Saracens. 

Page 167. Demorerent une piece ou le roy. At this place 
the manuscript of the English poem used by Leland 
broke off abruptly, from mutilation. The following is 
his abridgement of the concluding portion. " But 
after that king John had wryten to the king of 
Fraunce that he kept Fulco his rebelle, he misdemid 
straite that syr Amice was this Fulke, and knowing 
the trueth, he promisid a barony in Fraunce to Fulco ; 
but he refusid it, desiring to depart, and so cam to 
Madour of the Mounte, a joly capitain by se, and 
there with Fulco preparid a stronge shyp, and saylid 
into the cost of England, wher he slew a knight that 
in shippe layd watch for hym. And thens he saylid 

222 NOTES. 

into Orkany, and there he wonne the hauberk of harde 
steele that he held ever, and ryd certayne ladies owt 
of prison, whereof one was Amfloures heire, and brought 
them to Bagotes castel, and after how he and his 
were long tyme se-dryven with tempestes into straunge 
countereis, and to Carthage, and after long tyme how 
he landid at Dover, and cam to a woodde by Windesore 
parke, and because that he herde that the king wold 
hunte in that place, for fere of knowing he chaungid 
his clothes with a colyar, and sone after the king cam 
by, and askid hym if he saw any game, and he an- 
swerid ye, and so ledde hym to his tente, where is 
bretherne and his company were in covert, and there 
havyng hym, manacid hym for his banischment with 
death. But the king grauntid them al pardone apon 
his honor and trueth, and gave hym fre hunting from 
the holt onto his castel. But he after resorting to 
Windesore forthought hym of his pardon and graunt 
to Fulco, and sent fiftene knightes to take them, 
wherof one was caullid James of Normandy. But 
Fulco and his overcam them. King John sent after 
Randol erle of Chester to take Fulco ; but he fled to 
se, and at the last by tempest was dryven ynto Barbary. 
William, Fulcos brother, was sore woundid, lefte 
behynd, taken, and put in a doungeon. Fulco was 
taken by the Soldanes men, and brought onto hym." 

During this period of his outlawry, Fulk fitz Warine 
appears to have been deserted by some of his comrades, 
who had no doubt joined him as an ally in circumstances 
similar to those in which he had been thrown. We 
find in the patent rolls that on the 30th April, 1202, 
Eustache de Kidwelly, one of Fulk's companions, 

NOTES, 223 

obtained his own pardon. " Rex, etc., justiciariis, 
vicecomitibus, et omnibus ballivis et fidelibus suis 
Anglise, etc. Sciatis nos, quantum ad nos pertinet, 
pardonasse Eustacio de Kivilly fugam quam fecit et 
utlagariarn in eum promulgatam occasione Fulconis filii 
Guarini, cujus socius fuit ; et concessimus ei quod in 
terrain nostram Anglise redeat et pacem nostram ibi 
habeat. Ita tamen quod pacem faciat cum illis quibus 
malum intulit et propter quos fugam illam fecit, vel 
stet recto si q^uis erga ipsum loqui voluerit, vel libere 
et sine impediments terrain nostram Aiiglise egrediatur, 
si hoc facere noluerit. Teste H. Cantuariensi archi- 
episcopo, cancellario nostro, apud Pontem Archarum, 
xxx. die Aprilis." The king was at this time in 
Normandy, at Pont-de-1'Arche. 

Page 168. Latin corupt. This has been already mentioned 
as the language in which Fulk conversed with the 
pirates of Orkany, and it is alluded to in other 
medieval writings as a dialect in which people of 
different countries understood one another, especially 
merchants. It was, in fact, something like the Lingua 
Franca of the Mediterranean in modern times. It was 
quite in the character of a minstrel who travelled from 
country to country to understand it. 

Babiloyne, Alexandre, et Tnde le Majour. The city known 
as Babylon in the middle ages was Cairo in Egypt, the 
capital of the Egyptian khalifs. This city, and that of 
Alexandria, were the great emporia of the medieval 
trade with the East, and especially with India. 

Page 171. En la novele Forest, It may be well to observe 

224 NOTES. 

here, that none of these adventures can be correctly 
told, as far as regards the presence of the king, as we 
learn from the dates of the records on the rolls, that 
John was absent, engaged in his wars in Normandy, 
from the end of May 1201, till the 7th of December, 
1203, when he returned to Portsmouth, that is, during 
nearly the whole period of Fulk fitz Warine's outlawry. 

Page 172. A Westmostier . . . Hubert le erchevesqe. Accord- 
ing to the records, Fulk and his companions owed their 
pardon to the bishop of Norwich and the earl of 
Salisbury, and not to Hubert Walter ; but the arch- 
bishop, who held the two important offices of lord 
chancellor and grand justiciary, may still have been the 
real and primary mediator. There is a greater error 
in laying the scene of this last act of the adventures of 
the outlaws at Westminster, for the king was all this 
time in Normandy, and did not return to Westminster 
until the 22nd of January, 1204, more than two months 
after the pardon was given. According to the patent 
rolls, it wac on the 20th of August, 1203, that king 
John first gave Fulk and his companions a safe con- 
duct for a fortnight to come to the court, then at 
Verneuil, in Normandy. " Rex, etc., omnibus, etc. 
Sciatis quod prsestamus Fulconi filio Guarini et sociis 
suis salvum et securum conductum in veniendo ad nos 
et redeundo, a die Jovis, die scilicet Decollacionis sancti 
Johannis Baptists, anno, etc., quinto, usque in xv. dies 
sequentes. Et ideo vobis firmiter prohibemus ne eos 
interim super hoc impediatis, aut quicquarn molestise 
inferratis. Teste me ipso apud, etc. 

On the 12th of September, the king, then at Herbetot, 

NOTES. 225 

granted another safe-conduct, for a week, to Fulk fitz 
Warine and Baldwin de Hodnet and their companions. 
" Rex, etc., omnibus fidelibus suis, etc. Sciatis quod 
concessimus Fulconi filio Guarini et Baldewino de 
Hodenet et hiis quos secum ducent salvum et securum 
conductum veniendi ad nos et redeundi, a Dominica 
proxima post Nativitatem beatae Mariae in viij to . dies. 
Et in hujus rei, etc. Teste me ipso apud Herbertot, 
xij. die septembris." On the 2nd of October, another 
safe-conduct for a fortnight was granted to Fulk 
fitz Warine and such as he might bring with him, 
the king being then at Montfort. " Rex, etc., omnibus, 
etc. Sciatis quod concessimus Fulconi filio Guarini 
et hiis quos secum ducet salvum conductum veniendo 
ad nos et redeundo. Durabit conductus ille a die 
sancti Dionisii in xv. dies, anno, etc., quinto." 

At length, on the 15th of November, Fulk fitz 
Warine received his pardon from the king, who was 
then at Caen. " Rex, etc., justiciariis, vicecomitibus, 
etc. Sciatis quod nos recepimus in gratiam et beni- 
volentiam nostram Fulconem filium Guarini, ad pe- 
titionem venerabilis patris nostri J. Norwicensis epis- 
copi, et comifis W. Sarisberiensis, fratris nostri, 
remittentes ei excessus quos fecit, eique perdonantes 
fugam et utlagariam in eum promulgatam. Et ideo 
vobis mandamus et firmiter praecipirnus quod in firmam 
pacem nostram habeat ubicumque venerit. Teste, etc." 
On the llth of November, the king, then at Rouen, 
gave a similar pardon to Vivian de Prestecotes, one of 
Fulk's companions, who had been outlawed for some 
act of violence against Jorvet dc Hulton. " Rex, etc., 

226 NOTES. 

justiciariis, vicecomitibus, etc. Sciatis quod nos, ad 
petition em venerabilis patris nostri J. Norwicensis 
episcopi, et comitis W. Sarresberiensis, fratris nostri, 
quantum ad nos pertinet, perdonavimus Viviano de 
Prestecotes fugam et utlagariam in eum promulgatani 
pro roberia et pace nostra infracta, unde Jorvet de 
Hultonia eum appellavit, et pro consortio Fulconis filii 
Guarini. Et ideo vobis mandamus et firmiter prae- 
cipimus quod in firmam pacem nostram habeat. Teste 
meipso, apud Rothomagum, xj. die Novembris." 
Whittington was restored to Fulk fitz Warine soon 
afterwards, as we know from the same records. "Rex, 
etc., vicecomiti Salopesbirise, etc. Scias quod reddidimus 
Fulconi filio Gwarini castellum de Wuitintona cum 
omnibus pertinenciis suis, sicut jus et hereditatem. 
Et ideo, etc. Et in hujus rei, etc." 

The same records give us as follows, the names of 
those of Fulk's companions who received their pardon 
at the same time, distinguishing them into those who 
had originally joined in Fulk's rebellion, and those 
who, having been outlawed for other causes, afterwards 
joined him. The first list contains the names of several 

" [Isti fuerjunt utlagati [pro consorjtio Fulconis filii 
[Guarini], et inlagati sunt [per petitionjem domini 
J. [Norwicensis episcopi], et comitis [W. Sarresberiensis], 
fratris domini regis : 

Badwinus de Hodenet. 
Willelmus filius Fulconis. 
Johannes de Tracy. 
Rogerus de Prestona. 

Pro servitio Ful- 
conis filii Guarini, 


Philippus filius Guarini. 
Ivo filius Guarini. 
Radulfus Gras. 
Stephanus de Hodenet. 
Henricus de Pontesbiria. 
Herbertus Branche. 
Henricus le Norreis. 
"VVillelmus Malyeissin. 
Radulfus filius Willelmi. 
Abraham Passavant. 
Matheus de Dulvustiria. 
Hugo Ruffus. 
Willelmus Gernun. 
Walterus de Alwestana. 
Johannes de Prestona. 
Ricardus de Prestona. 
Philippus de Hanewuda. 
Hamo de Wikefelda. 
Arfin Marnur. 
Adam de Creckefergus. 
Walter le Sumter. 
Gilbertus de Dovre. 
Willelmus de Eggrernuudia. 
Johannes de Lamboma. 
Henricus Walenger. 
Johannes Descunsit. 
Willelmus Fet. 
Willelmus Cocus. 
Gaufredus filius ejus. 
Philippus de Wemma. 
Ricardus Scott. 
Thomas de Lidetuna. 
Henricus Gloc'. 


Pro servitio Ful- 
conis filii Guarini. 

'228 NOTES. 

Isti fuerunt utlagati pro excessibus suis, et postea 
venerunt ad ipsum Fulconem, et inlagati sunt ad peti- 
tionem domini Norwicensis episcopi, et comitis W 
Sarresberiensis, fratris domini regis : 

Hugo Fressellus. 

Orun'. de Prestecotes. 

Rogerus de Waletona. 

Reinerus films Reineri. 

Willelmus filius Willelmi. 

Willelmus filius Ricardi de Bertona. 

Ricardus de Wakefelda. 

Henricus filius Roberti le Kinge de Uffinton. 

Johannes filius Toke. 

Henricus le Franceis. 

Walterus Godric. 

Thomas frater ejus. 

Rogerus de Onderoude. 

Rogerus de la Hande. 

Willelmus filius Johannis. 

Page 173. Ly dona sur Asshesdoune, Wantynge, e autres 
terres. Wanting in Berkshire, now called Wantage, 
is supposed to have been originally a Roman station, 
and was a place of some importance in Saxon times, 
being well known as the birth-place of King Alfred. 
The manor was given from the crown in the reign of 
Richard I, to Baldwin de Bethune earl of Albemarle, 
from whom it passed to William de Valence earl of 
Pembroke, and his eldest daughter carried it by mar- 
riage to Hugh Bigot, the earl marshal. Hugh Bigot, 
as here stated, granted this manor to Fulk fitz Warine, 

NOTES. 229 

but the grant was made in reward for military services, 
and its date was 1215, long after that at which it 
appears here to be placed. 

Page 174. Fist fey re yleque e ville marchaude. It was the 
usual custom to include in such grants a fair as well 
as a market. 

Page 176. Une priorie . . . . la Novele Abbeye. The king's 
charter confirming the foundation of this abbey at Al- 
burbury, is dated at Hereford, on the 12th day of 
December, in the 17th Henry II, that is in the year 
1171. It must therefore have been founded by Fulk 
fitz Warine, the father of him of whom we are now 
speaking, as, according to the abstract given in Leland, 
was stated more correctly in the early English metrical 
version of the history. 

Page 177. Morust dame Mahaud de Cans. I have been 
able to obtain no information relating to this lady, or 
to Clarice de Auberville, or the pretended marriage of 
Eve with the prince of Wales, so that we can only take 
these events as they are here told. 

Quant dame Johane fust devyee. Joane, wife of 

Llewelyn, prince of North Wales, died in 1237, and 
was buried in the church of Llanvaes, near Beaumaris, 
in Angles"ea, where Llewelyn afterwards built a monas- 
tery of Dominican friars. The monument of the 
princess is still preserved, and has been engraved 
in one of the illustrations to my Archceological 

E fust ensevely a Aberconeway. Llewelyn died in 1240, 

230 NOTES. 

and was buried in the Cistercian abbey of Conway, 
which he had founded. 

Pus fust de espose a ly sire de Blanc-Mostiers. Blanc- 
Mostiers, or White-Minster, means, probably, Whit- 
church in Shropshire, though I think it has been 
interpreted to mean Oswestry. 

Page 182. E morust d Blaunche-Vyle. The date of the 
death of this Fulk fitz Warine is not known. It is pro- 
bable that he was alive in 1256, as the Fulk fitz Warine 
who was drowned at the battle of Lewes in 1264, and 
who was no doubt his son, is described in January 
1256, as Fulk fitz Warine junior. 

Leland abridges the conclusion of the story from 
the Anglo-Norman metrical history : Here lakkid a 
quay re or ii. in the olde Englisch booke of the nobile 
actes of the Guarines, and these thinges that folow, I 
translatid owte of an olde French historie yn rime of 
the actes of the Guarines onto the death of Fulco the 
2. Fulco, after that he had bene longe aboute the 
quarters of Cartage and Barbary, and ther had the 
love of a nobile ladie caullid Idonie, he repayrid 
agayn to the quarters of England, and there hering 
that his brother William was alyve, he founde meanes 
to have king Johns perdone, good wylle, and restitution 
of his castelle of Whitington ; and also perdon for his 
bretherne by the meanes of Randol erle of Chester, the 
erle of Glocestre, Hughe Bigot, erle marescal, and 
Hubert, archebisshop of Cantorbyri. After this, Hugh 
the erle marescal, for love that he bare to Fulco, gave 
hym the lordship and landes of Waneting ; where the 
village by Fulcos meane was after made a market 

NOTES. 231 

toune. Then went forthe Fulco on warfare with 
Randol counte of Chestre into Ireland, and there did 
noble feates. After Fulco foundid ^s I remember, 
the New Abbay, a priory in the the English his- 
honor of owr ladie in a wood by Al- torie of the Fitz- 
bourbyri. Fulco the secunde ma- Warines attri- 
ried a wife caullid Clarice. This butith this to 
Fulco for nobilite was communely Fulco the firste. 
caullid Proudhome. After that Johan the sister of 
king John was dead, Lewys prince of Wales maried 
Eva doughter to Fulco the secunde, at Blauncheville. 
Lewys ly vid a yere and a half after that he maried Eva, 
and then dying withowte issue of her, was buryed at 
Aberconwey. Eva was after maried to a noble knight 
of Blancheminstre. Fulco lyvid seven yere devotely 
with Clarice his wife, and yn his latter dayes was striken 
with blyndenes. Clarice died afore Fulco, and was 
byried yn the New Minstre or Abbay. Fulco after 
dying was also with much honour enterred at the New 









? ^ EDITED BY v N\ N ^ 

/^X x ^ N 

j. o? HALLIWELL, X ESQ., F.R.S., 





AMONGST the miscellaneous English manuscripts 
of the fifteenth century which have hitherto re- 
mained inedited, there is not perhaps one more 
deserving of attention than that from which the 
present collection has been selected. It is a thick 
but small volume, written on vellum and paper 
in the reign of Edward IV, and, from being pre- 
served at Porkington, in the county of Salop, in 
the library of W. Ormsby Gore, Esq., M.P., has 
been generally known as the Porkington Manu- 
script. Scarcely any of its contents have been pub- 
lished, and, when the original volume was confided 
to my trust for a short time some years ago, through 
the interest of one of the possessor's intimate 
friends, the opportunity was taken of transcribing 
from it the curious pieces which are now offered 
to the notice of the members of the Warton Club. 
The Porkington Manuscript was first brought 
prominently into notice by Sir Frederic Madden, 


who, in 1839, printed from it the story of Syre 
Gawene and the Carle of Carelyle, in his excellent 
collection of the romance-poems of Syr Gawayne.* 
This curious piece is the first poem in the manu- 
script, the articles which precede it consisting of 
a calendar, a table of eclipses calculated for the 
period from 1462 to 1481, a tract on the weather, 
etc. The next which follows is the curious treatise 
on planting and grafting, printed in the present 
volume, pp. 66-72, which will be read with some 
interest by those whose curiosity leads them to 
inquire into the progress made by our ancestors 
in these subjects at so early a period. In 
the agricultural and botanical sciences they were 
clearly not very far advanced, but they made 
amends for this by attaining a singular proficiency 
in all the appliances of the pictorial art. On this 
account, as well as in regard to the nature of the 
subject itself, the minute receipts in aid of " the 
crafte of lymnynge of bokys", p. 72, are likely to 
be of considerable importance in any researches 

* Sir F. Madden is of opinion (Syr Gawayne, p. 429) that 
slronge, at the commencement of this poem, should be 
strange. The manuscript has the former reading, but the 
use of the o for the , which will be found constantly in 
the following pages, appears to be a dialectical indication 
that ought to be preserved. 


respecting the history of English art. After a 
few brief poems, the next article of any import- 
ance in the manuscript is the " Vision of Philibert 
regarding the Body and the Soul"; a curious and 
hitherto unnoticed early metrical translation of the 
Latin poem on that subject, generally attributed to 
Walter Mapes. It is given in the present volume, 
pp. 12-39. This is followed by the short, but 
quaint, poems of " Earth upon Earth", and the 
" Mourning of the Hare", both of which are in- 
serted in this collection. A few of the shorter metri- 
cal pieces have been already printed in other col- 
lections, and, though interesting in themselves, it 
was thought not to be worth while to reproduce 
them. Some have been printed in the Reliquiae 
Antiques, and others in works of limited circulation, 
but sufficiently accessible to the student. The ten 
articles now printed comprise the chief of the 
inedited pieces of any real value, and constitute, 
with those elsewhere published, as complete a 
copy of the manuscript as will generally be 

To the above^brief enumeration of the contents 
of the manuscript may be added the version of the 
amusing tale of the Friar and the Boy, printed 
in the following pages, pp. 46-62. Several copies 
of this poem have been preserved, and as they all 


vary considerably from each, other, the present is 
worth preservation, as perhaps the least incorrect 
of any of the early manuscript copies known to 
exist. Another, preserved in MS. Cantab. Ee. 
iv. 35, was printed by Mr. Wright, 18mo, 1836. 
The story is well known, and was a common 
chap-book history, in a modernized form, until a 
very recent period. 

February, 1855. 



LOVELY lordynges, ladys lyke, 

Wyves and maydynus ryallyke, 

So worthy undere wede, 

And alle, lystynes to my talkynge, 

God grant hem hys dere blesynge, 

And hevene to her mede. 

By one foreste as I cone ryde, 

I saw a byrd by a woode syde, 

Bry3te sche was of ble ; 

Her wenges were of colowrs ryche, 

As an aungelle me thojte her lyche, 

Full semely hit was to se; 

The byrd was go ; my joy was stylle, 

For woo, alasse ! myselffe I spylle, 

To Cryste I make my mone, 



For a love that was so newe, 

That so bry3te was of hewe, 

Fro me was sche gone. 

A blestfulle songe that byrd gone synge, 

And I abode for love talkynge, 

To wilt of whene sche wore ; 

And as sone as sche se me, 

Sche toke her fly3te for to fle 

To an holte so hore ; 

Forthe I walked in that foreste, 

By a rever est and weste, 

Under ane holte syde, 

Tylle I come undere a lovele tre, 

That semely cone I se 

Undere a buske abyde. 

That lovely byrd one bowys bare, 

Sche sange a songe with sy3kyng sare 

Opone ane haselle tre : 

With wordys myld and hende, 

To that byrd cone I wende, 

Off bale her bote to be. 

Whenne that I tylle her come, 

By the wengus I her nome, 

And stroked her fulle softe : 

With wordys myld and stylle, 

I hasked the byrd of her wylle 


Fele tymys and ofte ; 

The byrd answerd and sayd, Do way ! 

Me lykes no5te of thy play, 

Ne talkyng of thy talys : 

I am known undere thys tre, 

So as I come let me fie, 

By downs and by dalus : 

For wonte I was to be in cage, 

And with my feres to play and rage, 

With game and with gle : 

Now I fly with my fethere hame, 

As wyld fowle and nothyng tame ; 

Be dere God, woo is me ! 

Nay, dere byrd, let be thy care, 

And thou woldus gladly with me fare, 

And leve one my talkynge ; 

Of thy ruthe I wold a-ruwe, 

Thy cage shal be made anewe ; 

Thou shalte have thy lykynge. 

The byrd answerd with wordys fre, 

Whereof schuld my cage be, 

And I the love wold r 

The flore schold be of argentum, 

Clene sylver alle and sume, 

That trewe love my3te behold. 

The walle schal be of galmeowne, 

B 2 


Frankensensse and lymesone, 

That savour that is so swete. 

The postes schal be of syperesse, 

The furste tre that Jhesu chesse, 

Off bale to be owre bote : 

The towres shal be of every, 

Clene corvene by and by, 

The dore of whallus bone ; 

The cowpuls alle of galyngalle, 

The bemus alle of ryche coralle, 

Ryally begone ; 

The dosers alle of camaca, 

The bankers alle of taffaca, 

The quysschyns alle of velvet ; 

The wyndows alle of jasper stone, 

The pelowrs of coralle everychone, 

With joye joyned in gete : 

The hyllynges thereof schal be blewe, 

And dyaper with aser hew 

Comly for the noneste : 

Pynnaculs alle of aurum, 

Clene gold alle and summe, 

Fulle of precyowse stonus : 

The creste blewe and whyte as rysse, 

The pynnaculs schalle go alle by vysse, 

Within and withowte, 


With Vent Creator spiritus, 

And, Gloria in excelsis, 

With aungels songe alle abowte. 

Fyve whelys therein schal be, 

In the medylle schal be the Trinite, 

That pere as none, 

And the forwte thereabowte, 

To Jhesu Criste for to lowte, 

Marke, Mathew, Luke, and Johne. 

The perche schalbe of carbuncul stone, 

To rest jow one, my joly lemone, 

So semely is to my syjte ; 

The ny3tyngale, the throstylcoke, 

The popejay, the joly laveroke, 

Schalle singe 3ow day and ny3te ; 

The popejay, jour lady fre, 

In jour cage with jow to be, 

30\v to honour and quene; 

The throstelcoke Gabrielle, 

The wyche gret owre lady welle, 

With ane Gracia plene. 

The ny3tyngale with benedicite, 

In 3our cage with 3ow to be, 

For the fendys rowte ; 

The laveroke schalle synge hye, 

With Gloria tibi Domine, 


And blysse the cage alle abowte. 

Thys cage is made withowtyne weme, 

For the love of one woman, 

Mary that is so fre ; 

The mane that better cage make canne, 

Take thys byrd to his lemane, 

That is the Trinite. 

God, that is fulle of myjte, 

And sofored for us payns ply3te, 

For his ordors tenne, 

Mot save and kepe this company 

Fro schame and eke fro velony, 

Ad vitam eternam ! Amen. 


Lord, how schalle I me complayne, 

Unto myne owne lady dere, 
For to telle hereof my payne, 

That I felte this tyme of the heire ? 
My lovfe, yf that 36 wylle hit here, 

Thowje I can noo songis make, 
Soo yowre lovfe changys my chere, 

That whenne I slepe I may not wake. 
Youre lovfe dose me soo meculle wow, 

I lovfe yow best I make a wowe, 


That my schowe byndys my lyttylle towe, 

And alle my lowf, swyt, hit ys for yow ; 
Forsothe me thynkyt hit wylle me slow, 

But 30 sum what my sowrro slake, 
That barfot to my bede I goo, 

And whenne I slepe I may not wake : 
Whosoever wyst what lyfe I lede, 

In myne obserwans in dyveris wyse, 
Now the tyme that I gow to my bede, 

I eyte no met tylle that I aryse. 
36 my3t telle hit for a gret emprys, 

That this morne for yowre sake, 
Soo mekulle I thinke one yowre serwyse, 

That when I slepe I may not wake. 
In the mornyng when I ryse schalle, 

Me lyst ry3t welle for to dyne, 
But commynly I drynke noo nale, 

Yf that I may geyt anny good wyne. 
To make yowre hert to me inclyne, 

Suche turment to me I take, 
Synggyng dothe me soo mycheylle pyne, 

That whenne I slepe I may not wake. 
I may unnethe buttyn my slewys, 

Soo myn armys waxin more ; 
Uridure my hyelle is that me grevys, 

Fore at my hart I fele noo sowre. 


Evyry day my gyrdylle gothe out avore, 

I clynge as dothe a whettyne cake, 
And for yowre lowf I sy3e soo sowre, 

That when I slepe I may not wake. 
Therefore but 36 quyte me my hyre, 

Forsothe I not what I schalle donne, 
And for yo\vr lovf, lady, by the fyre, 

Glowys wyll Y were noon. 
I lawje and synge and make no mone, 

I waxe as leyne as anny rake ; 
This in longure I leyfe alonne, 

That whan I slepe I may not wake. 
My dooblet ys more then hit was, 

To lovfe yow furst when I beganne, 
Hit most be wyddyre be my lase 

In yche a spas and stede by a spone. 
My lovfe, sethe I become youre mane, 

I havfe reddyn thorow monny a lake, 
Woone myleway mornyng I came, 

And jeyt whan I slepe I may not wake. 
This in longure I am lente, 

Longe are 366 doo soo for me ; 
Take good hyde unto my tent, 

For this schalle my conclucyone bee, 
Me thinke I loofe as welle as 3ee, 

Never soo cayey thow3e 366 hit make ; 


Be this insampulle 36 may see, 

That when I slepe I may not wake. 

Amen. Et-c. 


As I went one my playing, 

Undure an holt uppone an hylle, 
I sawe and ould mane hoore make mornyng, 

With sykyng soure he sayd me tylle, 
Sum tyme this worde was at my wylle, 

With reches and with ryallte, 
And now hit layd done ful stylle ; 

This word is but a wannyte. 
That one the morrow when hit fayre and chere, 

Afternone hit wendys awaye, 
And commyth to the nyjt as hit was ere : 

This word ys but a daye : 
Goo for ry3t alle owre lewyng heyre ; 

Frow chyldwood unto mannys degre, 
Owre enddyng drawyt nere and nere, 

This word is but a wannyte. 
I leccone my lyfe unto the morrow-tyde; 

When I was chyld so bare i-bore, 
For me my modyr soffyrd gret soure, 

With grouttyng and weppyng was I bore, 


But thow one me was wem ne hore ; 

Sethe in sinne I have i-be, 
Now I am olde I may no more, 

This word is but a wannyte. 
At myde-morroo daye I lernnyd to goo, 

And play as chyldorne done in strete ; 
As chyldwood me tho3t and tau3t I dyde tho, 

With my fellous to fyjt and beyt. 
What I dede methojt hit swete, 

Ryjt as chyldhod tajt hit me ; 
Now may I say with terrus weete, 

This word is but a wannyte. 
At under day to skole I was i-sete, 

To lerne good as chyldorn dothe, 
But whenne my master woold me bete, 

I wold hym cowrs and wax folle rowthe : 
To lerne good I was fulle rowthe, 

I tho3t one play and gollytte ; 
Now for to say the sothe, 

This world is but a wannyte. 
At mydday I was dobbyt a knyjte, 

In trothe I lernnyd for to ryed ; 
There was none soo bold a wy3te, 

That in battaylle durst me abyde. 
Where be-commy3t alle owre pryd, 

Owre jollytte and fayre boutte, 


Frow dethe I may not me here hyde, 

This word ys but a wannyte. 
At nonne I was crounyd a kynge, 

Alle this world was at my wylle ; 
Ever to lyvfe here was my lykynge, 

And alle my lust I wold fulfylle : 
Now age is croppyn one me ful stylle, 

He makyt me hore, blake, and bo we ; 
I goo alle dounward with the hylle, 

This world is but a wannyte. 
At myd-undure-none wondorly I waxe, 

My lust and lykyng hit went away, 
From the world my chere ys goon, 

Fro ryalte and ryche araye : 
Owre lewyng ys but one daye, 

Ajeynst the world that evyre schalbe ; 
Be this matter I dare welle saye, 

This word ys but a wanyte. 
At ewynsong tyme I was so cold, 

That now I goo alle by a stafe, 
Therefore is dethe one me so bold, 

And for his hyre he dothe me chawfe : 
Whenne I am dede and layd inne grawe, 

Then no thing schalle save me, 
But welle and woo that I done havfe, 

This word ys but a wannyte. 


Now ys this day commyn to the nyjt ; 

I ha we lost my lewyng ; 
A dredefulle payne is for me dyjte, 

In cold claye there inne to clynge. 
As I went on my playing, 

Undure an holt by a tre, 
This hard I an old manne mak mornyng, 

This world ys but a wannyte ! 
In Domino confydo. Amen, dico vobis. 


The Fadyr of pytte and most of myserycorde, 

That alle this word throw his grace relewyt, 

He ys soo mercyfulle, called gracys Lord, 

That all oure syne the wyche his lordschypp grevyth, 

Full oft of verey pytte that hym mevyte, 

To oure freywelte hawyng advertans, 

He remytteth sone and grantteth indulgens. 

And thoje it be so he wyll no man be pereched, 
He sofford us oft to falle grevusly ; 
Whom he reypreweth whom he woll have cheryd, 
There is no creature can tel this truly : 
Werfore, O frendus, alle this counsel I, 
Consydyr youre lyve stondyth in gret drede ; 
Beth wel awysid therefor, 30 have gret ned. 


Al this I meve for a nottabul a storrye, 

The wych a clarke in Lattayne lyst for to wryet, 

To floure for ever worthely in memorrye, 

And hard harttus to try and exsyte 

To perfeccyon, and cans men to have delyte 

In her God, and meve hem new and newe 

To alle good warkus, al evyl to esschew. 

And as I dorst for verey drede and schame, 

Of sympul connyng and bestyal rudenysse, 

I toke one me to translate the same 

Into owre tonge after the prossese 

In Lattayn ; weifore with alle humblenesse, 

Every genttyl redere I reyquere 

To be my supporter, I aske non other hyere. 

And in this matter weras I fynde 
Anne thinge that may behold suspecte, 
As towchyng enny word befor or behynde, 
To throwe dysscression I offyr and derecte 
Al syche defawtes to amende and correcte, 
Lest one me be fond any offense, 
In anny place of worthie audyense. 

O sovereyn Lord of sapiens infeynyte, 
Sum lecur of thi grace one me destylle, 
Sonnere my style helpe me to indyte, 


That to thi lawde I may this processe fulfyle : 
Soffyre me not, Lord, a3eynst thi wyle, 
But so my pene dyrecte at my nede, 
That to thi lawde this processe may precede. 

O Crystes modyre, dow3tter to Sente Anne, 
Be whom al grace is new begonne ; 
That feede 3eure chyld with the heyvynly mane, 
And 3ave hym drynke of youre good lytonne. 
O norreyschere to Cryst clothid with the sone, 
The chefe temppul of oure soferayn deseyryde, 
And of the Holly Gost electe and enspyryd. 

Nowe wy3t-save, lady, of youre maydonhede, 

Sum Iy3t of grace one me to sende, 

That my rude wyte may be oute of drede 

Of this simpul dytte to make ann ynd : 

And lest hit be so that I do offende, 

Let yowre grace uppon me, youre servant, schyne, 

That by a quene aboven the ordors nyne. 

And to my porpos I wyl turne al newe, 

As befor I began to wryte, 

And after a storry to the I wylle the matter sewe, 

As 36 schal here without more respyte. 

In Frans sometym there cleyllyd an hermete, 


Holly and devoute, and set in perfeccyone : 
He was allso a worth! kyngis sone. 

This ermet be name was cleyppyd Philberte, 
Secrete with God, as in conclysion 
The matter schowy3t, who wysely wyl advert, 
And in his slepe he hade syche a vyssyone : 
He saw a boddy not feynyd be illisione, 
Deede and pale, and one the erthe laye ; 
And, as hit semyd, the spret was away. 

By the body the spret stod and weppyd, 
And in his langaug the body dyde repreve ; 
Why hadyst thou not better thi soule keppyte r 
Alas, that ever thou commyst of Adam and Eve ! 
Who cast the doune into this myscheyfe ? 
Who hath the put into this gret mysyre ? 
Thy sollen festus be changyt into serre. 

Not long agoo, the word was thi subejecte ; 

Al this regeone thi lordschype hade in drede. 

Wer is now that mayne, thou stynkyng and abjecte, 

That thou wert wont so ryally to fede ? 

Here gret observans and there takyng hede ? 

Al is gone ! thi welth is from the wenyde ! 

Thow foul caryon, thus dethe hath the dysmayde. 


Thy dwellyng is not now in hy3e towrus, 

Ne in hyje paleys of famus largenyse, 

But in a grave clousyd alle in flowryse, 

Schort enow3e, it hath no gret wydnys ; 

What awaylly3t now thi strengthe and thi reches ? 

Thy 3othe, thi bowtte, and thin appareyle ? 

Frome hens forthe thi wyl not the awayle. 

Where is now thy hy3e palleys, reyplete 

Of reches flouyng in gret abundanse ? 

Thi hale is now of vij. fete : 

The wormus bene thi kyn and thin alyanse ; 

Thi fryndeus in whome was alle thi affyanse, 

Here terms be almost exspend ; 

When thi dyrge was done, heere soroo was at an ynd. 

I am a sole after thi simlytude 

Of God, a creatur in a ry3t nobul wyse, 

And ordent to be of that multutud, 

That up to God glory schul ascend and ryse ; 

But thou, alas ! madyste me to dyspyse 

My God ; so wellaway the whylle ! 

For to eternal dethe he wyle us both exile. 

O stynkyng fleche ! with me thou art damnyde, 
But and thou knewyst the gret sowrro and payne 


Ordent for the, when thou schalt be exsempned, 
A thousande sythe thou schalt crye and playne, 
And say this word, God, that we twayne 
The day of owre byrth we had byn in our grave ! 
But suche grave wer we not or dent to have. 

Hit is gret merwelle, as semy3t me, 

Thoj oure dedys were not at Godis pleysans, 

In ouer lyve, whyle I was kyn to the, 

For of me thou hadyst alvay the governans, 

And when thou felyst I wold have done pennans, 

For owre syn thou woldyst never asente, 

Ne at no time porpos the to amende. 

Wer beth thi lonndys by exstorcyone take ? 
Thin hyj pallys that thou hast belde, and towrys ? 
Thy freche ryngis, thi goomes wyet and blake, 
Thy golde and sylwyre, and thi gret honnouris ? 
All is lost, and now thi sempul bouris 
In the, and thou art layd now fulle lowe ; 
Thus whom hym lyst dethe cane ovyre-throwe. 

Thy ryche vesture, thi beddys of collors dyverse, 
Thi wennesone, thi wyld foulle, spycus of delyte, 
Vesselle, nappre, mettus, I cannot reyhers, 
Sawsis, subdelytys to thine appetyte ; 


Thy lusty pellois, thi schettus fayre and whyte ; 
Where ys this now ? one this was alle thi thoujte : 
Here mayst thou se worldis joy is nojte. 

Answere to me, for I wylle apposse 

Thin wloge, yf hit do the apleyse ; 

Say one thy tyxte, for now may be no glous, 

For now thy haulle roofe lyth uppon that noose : 

Hit is so streyt, thou hast no membure at ese ; 

Thi moth, thi eene, thi tonge, and thi brethe, 

Thi fete and thi hondys stynke alle of dethe ! 

Thy gret ryches that thou hast gette some tyme, 
With farade, with fawyre, with strenjte, or with 


Be now changyt into erthe and slyme, 
And no were the world of me takyt none hede : 
Thus dethe aquyttyt every man his mede : 
Wyth-oute doute, who soo dothe attend 
Of worldly joy is evyre at the heynd. 

In heyvyne and erthe thou hast never a frynde ; 
Thy fadyre and thi modyre of the takys noo kepe : 
Thyne eyrris hath alle, thy good is dysspend ; 
Thy lusty wyfe dothe no lengure weppe : 
Alas ! that evyre thou coudyst goo or crepe ! 


There his no prayere that may the now awaylle : 
Thow fylthye fleche ! now mayst thou cry and weppe. 

I knowe this well, thin eyrrys ne thi wyfe 

Wyl not 3eyfe o fote of thi lond 

To reystore the agayne here to thi lyve, 

And jeyt alle thi trust thou puttust in here honcl. 

A ! wold God, thou my3ttyst undyrestonde, 

As thou lyes nowe stynkyng one the here, 

Thi frenschype and thou dyid bothe in feere. 

Now mayste thou see this world is but false ; 
His fayre prommes fol monny hathe begyllyde. 
The -fendis mallis thi curssid flecche alse, 
Many a thowsand have 36 there exsylyd 
Owte of joy, as mony a clarke hathe compylyd 
In sondry storrys, who so luste to rede ; 
But ale-tho3e men take of dethe no hede. 

Thi wester nowe is nothing presiouse, 
The wallure thereof is but symepul i-nowje : 
The schape me thingk is not made ful curiuse, 
Al thi bede-schettes beth alle row3e : 
And tho thi skynne be never so hard and tow3e, 
3et wylle the wormus into thi body crepe : 
Wherefore, thou fleche, thou hast grete caus to wepe. 

c 2 


And tho thou feele no turment novve nor payne, 

Als thou lyiste here dede and palle of hewe, 

At the hy jugement doutles we twayne 

Schall be sore poonneschyde, we may hit not esschew ; 

And suffure endles payne ever new and newe ; 

A3ens us bothe is 3eve the jugement and senttense ; 

There is no favor to make reyssystens. 

O fulle of mysserie, that never haddyst pytte 

Uppone the pore in al thi dayis here, 

But by exstorsion hast robbyd alle the sytty, 

There as thou hast deyllyd from heyre to 3ere, 

Now arte thou layd fulle lowe uppone the bere : 

Of alle owre sorrow thou arte the cause ; 

Com of and thou canste, and answere to this clause. 

Whenne at the body hade hard every worde 
Of the sowle and evere complaynt, 
Upe the chest frome hym he cast away the bord 
Wyth gret vyolens, as he were nothing faynt, 
And furiusly and wood the false fleche ataynte : 
With ferfull langgage he began the sole to accuse, 
As 36 schalle here, and hymeselfe to excuse. 

Art thou my soule, that hast me reyprevyte 
With scharpe reysone curiusly made and w 


Yf myne answere be ryjt wel apprewyte, 
Alle thi argamenttus schalle be set at nojte, 
And anone the truthe anone schalle be soujte, 
Wyche of us to is most worth! here, 
To bere the blame, anon 36 schall here. 

This knowe I wel, I have made the erre 
In monny a warke and manny a sory dede, 
But what is the cause nowe of oure werre 
I wylle declare, withouttyne anny drede ; 
How myjt the body syne, I pray the take hede, 
Withoute the soule ? thou cannist not this denye ; 
Tarry a whyle, and I schalle tel the whye. 

The word, the feend, and the fleche, in fere, 

By the gret frendys and of old alyance, 

And but the sole ryjt as dothe the brere, 

Hale a3ene anone this they wyll aspye, 

What myjte cause the body to aplye 

To here luste and to here cursyde werkus ; 

Now answere, soule, for this say the the clarkus. 

This know I welle, as thou dydyst reyherse, 
God formyd the after his owne ymage, 
And made the ry3t with manny vertues dyverse, 
And ordent the body bothe in 5oughet3 and age, 
To be thy thral, thy servant, and thi page : 


Have I not do so, as somme then kythe ? 
But al for no3te, I se proferd serves stynkit : 

Thow, soule, wer made lady and mastries 

In thy creacione, bye Godis provysionne : 

Reysone, mynd, and wyll, God of his goodnyse 

Ordent to the only, to this conclusione, 

That thou schulddyst kepe thi body from confusion, 

And ajeynst al synne to make resistense ; 

Thus dyddyst thou never answere to my senttens. 

Hit may not be the bodye schold be blamyte, 
But only the sole that hath the soffrentte ; 
Thow haddyst the governans ; art thounot a-schamyd ? 
Why puttest thou one me alle thi defaute : 
To be my subjecte say what nedyethe the ? 
Sethe of the body thou haddyst alle the charge, 
What was the cause thou suffurist me to go at 
large ? 

Withoute spret, pardy, the body his 
Withoute spret the body is no3t sussteynnyde : 
To kepe the body thou were made and wrojte : 
Answere, thou wer my sufferayne and long hast 

Thow wer my soferayn and longe haste raynnyde 


On me ; why tokyst thou no better hede, 
At all owrys when that I hade nede ? 

Thy symppul fleche, the wyche is corryptybulle, 
Without the spret can noudyre good ne harme. 
How myjt hit be, hit is unpossybulle 
That the body, the wyche is nothinge warme, 
But deyde and cold, schuld put forth his arme, 
Or withowt the soule eny membur meve ; 
Withowt the soule the body may nothing greve. 

Thothe the body and the spryt most nede asente, 
Whatever he sayth he most say the same, 
And as subjecte serve his masteris intente : 
Why schuld the servant bere the masteris blame ? 
Without the sole the body his blynd and lame ; 
My felyng, my mevyng, ale commyjt of the : 
For thin offens why reyprevyst thou me ? 

Remembure, O sool, what thou hast offendyte 

More then I, thou cannyst the not excuse : 

Oure both defawttus thou myjttyst have amendyte ; 

This knowyst thou welle, thou mayst hit not reyfuse. 

Thow obayist my wylle : why doste thou acuse ? 

Thy bytter langgag hath grewyd me sore : 

Go frome me, sole, and wex me no more. 


Wylle, abyd a whylle and tarie, 

And at thi ergamenttes anone reypleye, 

Thow hast ofFendy t, thou canniste not say the conttrary ; 

mollyd carryen, out one the, I crye. 
Fyrst take the pylere out of thyne ye, 
Or one me thou put anny defaute : 

Fulle causles me thing it, thou dost me asaute. 

1 know this welle, I schuld have mad reysustens 
A3eyns the fleche, fals and dyssaywabulle, 

But thi freelte anon stod at defense ; 
To thi soule thou were never favereabulle : 
My wylle was oft to 3eld me culpapulle, 
But thou3 the world and the fende alsoo 
In no wyse wold never asent thereto. 

O wrecheyd fleche, O thou stynkynge donge, 
That al thy dayis hast the word followyd ! 
What arte thou now ? thy knyl is ronge, 
Thy dyrge is done, the erthe hase the swallovyd ! 
Thow art defygurt, thi eyne beth depe hollowed ! 
Now art thou dede, thou mayst not askape ; 
Not long agone thou madyst hereof a jappe. 

When thy concianse wold the have mad chastessed, 
With wygellus, fastynge, or with allmysdede, 


Thow woldyst say nay, I be awyssed 
I may lyve longe 3eyt, I have no nede 
To amend myself ; of deth I take no hede : 
I wylle dance whylle the world wylle pype ; 
The frut fallyt syld, but 5eyf hit be rype. 

Thow hast of me take alle the charge, 

Thow soffyrd me never to have the soffyriantte ; 

After thi lust thou wenttust alway at large, 

Thow hast myschevyd bothe the and me. 

A ! what pestelens is wors or adversite, 

In this world then a famylly or frende ? 

Withowttyne dout he is wors then a fynde. 

I know me gyltte that I have erryd ; 

Sethe I was sofferayne, I have the not reystreynyd, 

But suffyrd the body evere to be referryde, 

Trowth, the falsnis undyre dessayvyd. 

A ! now I know the worldis joye is faynyde ; 

Alle to lat I do my sorro complayne, 

Fayre promese ofte makyth foollis fayne. 

O wrecched fleche, whi dydyst thou not advarte 
The sottel fraud of this world and gyle, 
And on thi God wonly set thin herte, 
That ever was raydy the to reyconsyle : 


But now, alas ! he wylle us both exsyle 

Oute of joye, for oure gret offence. 

There is no juge that wylle with us dyspense. 

Not long agone the world dyde lave one the, 
And made the promese thou schuld longe indure ; 
But thou wer blynd, thou my3ttyst not see, 
The perelus end and thin myssawentture : 
O deth, thou wendyst thou hade byne sure 
To leve alle way, and never to have dyid, 
3ete amonge a thousand dethe hath the aspyid. 

The world methinke I may reysemble wele 
To a thefe that came, both faynd and glose, 
And when thou wenyst he be as trow as styelle, 
He sonnyst dyssaywyth the, thou schalt never odyre 


But as a sarpent that creppyt under they roose, 
Lythe awayet, every tyme and houre, 
To sley the best that dare toche the floure. 

Tho that wer thi frynddys be now waxt al strange, 
Uppon thi grave they wyl not ons beholde, 
And nowe that abbay is torned to a grange, 
Farewel thi frenschype, thi kechyne is cold ! 
O fremel flech, ful oft I have the told, 


When thou art dede, thi frenschype is aslepe ; 
And at that word the boddy began to wepe. 

My soule, trowyst thou I undyrestond, 
Whil I was levynge in all my bessenyse, 
That so sodenly wold have passid the flod, 
Uppone the ebbe I tho3t never to exprese ; 
My hart was ever uppon my rechese : 
I trowyd never to have enturrid into my grave. 
I lest not whyl the world sayd have. 

And now I know truly at the beste, 

That alle my reches may nothing prewayle, 

And nowe my loge is low in cheste, 

My powere, my berthe, to me wyl nothinke avayle 

Ajeyns dethe, the wyche wyl never fayle 

To come at the last, tarie hem never so longe ; 

The worldis joye hath ever sorrow amonge. 

We have offendyt ouer Lorde God sovereyne, 
But thin offyns his a gret del more : 
Why schuld the body have so gret a payne 
As the sole ? he hath not offendyt so sore. 
I have gret wrong, as me-thingit therefore, 
To be ponnescheyd with the sole in fere : 
Tarry a whyle, and why thou schalt here. 


Of every dyscryte this is well consayvyde, 

And know also by auctorryte of Scrypture, 

So gret gyftus of God thou reysayvyd, 

So here is thine astate and good awentture ; 

Tho God soffyre the never so long to indure, 

At the last answere thou must make 

Of thi gret charge that thou hast undyretake. 

God 3eyf the reyssone, wyl, and mynde, 

With dyveris goodis he induit the ; 

He 3ave the alle, and left me behynd, 

He mad me thi subjecte in ful sympul degre ; 

But thou wer neclygent and roullyd by me, 

Thow scholdyst therefore have the more payne, 

Be veery reyssone methinkyth, of us twayne. 

After his oune image God mad the ryjt fayre, 
Of my v. wyllus he toke the the keye, 
Withoute thin asent I my3te never apayre 
In thin absens how my3t I rage or playe, 
But as a chyld his master dothe obbaye, 
Dare not, for feyre he schuld be bete ; 
Be well awyssyd, one my resons grete. 

Now ame I dede, my colour is appalyde ; 
My sole is gone, the body may not meve, 
And 3eyt to answere nowe ame I callycle, 


Unavvyssid in this gret myscheyf ; 
Now dethe hath take me by the sieve, 
I must 3eve acounttus, I may not ascape, 
Deth, takyth heyd, can nother play ne jape. 

Sum tyme I hade menne one me to wayte, 

Freche arayid, was none to me to dere, 

And now my chambure is ful narro and streyt, 

There may not to loge there in fere : 

What is the body, whenne hit is one bere ? 

Hit is not ellus but wormus mete : 

This his the heynd of every smale and gret. 

And I know welle that I schalle aryce 

To jeyf aconttus at the laste, 

Befor the most feyrful Justyse, 

How ferful trowly there is no tong can saye : 

Whether schal I fle, alase and wellawaye ! 

Frou the sy3t of ther fueyrfulle juge ? 

There is no creature may be my reyfuge. 

3eyt say I more with a sorroffull harte, 

Of my playnis, O soule, take hede. 

The grettyst payn amonge my paynnis smerte, 

Was when my sole dyde from me reysede, 

At that departtyng wofful of feere and drede, 


When that my sole, that was my next frend, 
Was dampnyd for ever in helle to be a fende. 

Sone after the sperit with a dredly speche 

Begane to crye, and sayd, I ame lorne ! 

For my soor, alase, there is no leche ; 

Why wold my Makere soffyre me to be borne 

In this world, seth he knew toforne 

That I schwld be dampnyd in his presense, 

At the last, for my gret offence ? 

A ! wold God I had byne unreyssonnabule 
As an hond ; then had I byne out of payne ; 
But now my end is most abhomynabule, 
Hit awayllyth no3t, thoj I crye or playne ; 
I ame so fare, I may not torne a3eyne 
To have mercy, for ry3t hath clossyd the gate 
There mercy sojornit; I ame come to late. 

In paynus moste scharpe I ame and ever schal be. 

I have no tong that playnly canne tele 

My longe sorro, my gret adversitte 

Wyche I suffyre doune alowe in heelle ; 

But, alase ! of alle my sorrowe they wylle, 

Is that I schale never come ajeyne to grace, 

But etternally dweylle in that darke place. 


The body spake to the spret ajeynne, 

3ife hit be so that thou hast byne in heylle, 

To see there the gret torment and payne 

Ordent for Lucyfere, that oute of hewyne felle ; 

Is there anny raye, I praye the soletele, 

Or anny gladnyse, or any estate keppite ? 

The soule sayd nothinge, but stod stil and weppyd. 

To gret lordys and nobles there is somme place 
Of worschype, ordent after herre degre ! 
Thay leve in hope to have mercy and grace 
At the last, how myjt hit ellis be ? 
May almys dedis helpe nowe, tel me, 
Or holy sufFragyse in this gret nede ; 
Sume of this methinky3 alway schal spede. 

Thy questione, thou body, is not reysonabule, 
Nor out of helle may no man be redempte ; 
The gret sorroo there is so abbomynabule, 
Of ire, of envy, murmure and contempte ; 
Al gladnis and joy is there exsempte; 
None astate there schal be preferryde, 
The payn is taxed after as thi have erryde. 

Thoj al the world wer ful of almus dede, 
Of pytty and mercy, and of gladnyse, 


And pray for us reyt, schuld thou not spede : 
Thouj at onys thi offyrd alle ther ryches, 
Al is in vayne, labure and besinys, 
That is done for us that byn in helle : 
Of this mater 3ete have I mor to telle. 

For al this world, lordschype and treyssere, 
The fend wyl not sofFer une sool out of helle 
To be reyfrechid the tyme of halfe an oure ; 
There is non aschapyth out of his chene, 
Be no sottaylte, nor be no false trayne : 
He most abyd in that presone evyre, 
That ones commyjt in, for out goth he never. 

To know reydyly thou sayst his thi desyre, 
If gret estatys schold be punnesscyd soore ; 
Her paynus be scharpure, the hotter is the fyre 
That thei byne in, and schuld more and more 
Then annye othere, I warne the before. 
The gretter estate, the gretter is his falle ; 
I may no lenger tarry to tel the of alle. 

When at the soole had mad his complaynte, 
Of to feyndis anon he was take ; 
Thay wer so feyrfule, there is no man coud paynt, 
Suche to there wer so foul and so blake ; 


For verry feyre the soule dyd trymmyl and quake 
At here commynge, it is and was gret wondyre, 
There followyd then gret tempas and thondore. 

In her hondys thei bare yrone speyruse, 
The fereful soule to feyre and enchase ; 
Fyre smot on at here mowthus and eryse, 
Lyk ij. lyons thei dyde the soule arace; 
Ful dredful was here ymage and here face : 
In this world there is no creature one lyve, 
That coud here fygurs by and by descryve. 

Here contenance, here eyne, were so orryble, 

Al brennyng fyre, schynyng as the glase, 

To tel yow al it is impossibulle ; 

Here hornnys were gret, thei semyd al of brase ; 

Gret stronge smoke about them there wase ; 

Brennyng feyre wase about ther hornyse, 

And al here eyrus wer scharpe as any thornus. 

This to fendys foule and abbomynabule, 

Fersly with tonggys blasyng for heyte, 

With mony a cry and wordyse reyprevabule, 

Thay hallyd the soul into paynus grete. 

Thus pettyusly he wase schorgyt and bete, 

And with here naylys he was dysmemborte ; 

Of alle and halfe his paynus I cannot be rememburte. 


Surae with cheynnys bond the soule faste, 

Sume with 3erdys smote ful hard and soore ; 

Sume byllyd mettayl, and in his moth than caste ; 

Some made fyre byhynde, and somme byfore : 

And to increse his payne more and more, 

Into a pyt anone he was in caste, 

Of fyere and sulfure brennyng aye ful fast. 

Then al the fendys in schame and reyplete 

Of the soule, sayd in this wyes : 

O false attaynte ! O thou cursyd theve ! 

Now arte thou bond, thou mayst never aryse ! 

Thow arte quyte for thi long serwyse ! 

Thow mayst not aschape thou arte tyid so faste. 

Alle oure serwanttus, lo! commyj hedere at the laste. 

For verry sorrow the soule began to wepe, 
And sayd, alas ! I may not torne a3eyne 
Owt of this dongoone, that is wyde and depe. 
A ! God, my makere, to the I cry and playne, 
Where is thi mersy, that wase wont to rayne ? 
Amonge thi pepul lete hit nowe awayle, 
Doune alowe into this darke dale ! 

The fendyse anon sayd, Thou cryiste to late 
After thi God ; nowe that mayst not spede ! 
The portter of heyvyne hathe cloussyd the 3ate ; 


Of thi crye thay take none heed : 
Hit awayllyj not, tho thou say thi crede 
A thowsand sythe novve alowe in helle, 
For dowtles here thou most nedys dwelle. 

The gret darknys thou mayste grope and fele ; 
From hensforth thou schalt never se no lyjte ; 
Thy bytter heyt there is no man may kele ; 
Thy lusty day is tornyd into ny3te. 
Thy bowtte is changyt, passid is thi my3t ; 
Hit awayllyj not, wepe thou never so sore : 
Then endyth my drem : of this I sawe no more. 

When I hade hard complaynt alle 

Betwyne the body and the soule in fere, 

Frow my eyne the teris begane to fale ; 

I pray to God with myne herte in fere, 

He wold witsavfe to grant, while I wer here, 

Of al my synnys to have wery reypentance, 

And ever in my werkys to do unto his pleysance. 

Owt of my slepe I woke alle dysmayid, 
I sow5t abowt, I coud no thinge fynde, 
And of my vesione I was foule afrayid, 
The body and the soule wer ever in my mynde, 
And ever me thoo3t I sawe the feynd byhynd : 

D 2 


So was his feger so pryntyd in my thojte ; 
Whil I was alyve I forgat hyme nou3te. 

The wordys joy, the wyche is transsetorrye, 

My gold, my sylver, al I sete ate nowjte ; 

Myne erytage, myne alyaunse, al is but faynyd glorye, 

Oute of mynd, as hit had never be thoi^te ; 

And for his mercy, oure Lord I be-sou3te, 

He wold reyseyf me holly into his hondyse, 

And kepe me ever oute the fendis hondyse. 

And tho hit was so I was a kyngis sone, 
I offyrd my selfe to wylful poverte, 
And in dysserte al my lyve to wone, 
I mad ful promes with ale humylyte ; 
There I lowet longe in streyt chastyte, 
Abydyng Goddis wylle, when that he wyl send 
For my sowle, and therto make ann ynde. 

And for that moste begynnere and sovereyn love, 
What he schowyth to al mankynd here, 
When he dyssenddyt frome his glorie above 
Into a chast wombe of a wyrgene clere, 
I prayd my Lord he wold whytsavfe to here 
My symppul orysone, for his mercy and grace, 
And preserfe me ever frowe that darke place. 


Consydure, O frendys, in yowre presensc 

Of this speryte, the dredfule tragedye, 

And in specyal 36 that hawe no concyanse, 

Lete this a storry be byfor youre eey ; 

Beth wel awyssyd, for truly 36 schal dye, 

But whenne and wer there is no mane cane telle ; 

Tho 36 dred note God, 3ete be ferd of helle. 

For in this world have we no sekyrnys, 

But as a schadowe that crepyth and away glydythe, 

So passy3 yowre lyve here, youre joy and gladnis, 

Al is transetorrye, there is nothinge abydethe ; 

And dethe, that so prevyly hymeselfe hydyte, 

Oute of courte he wyle al sodenly crepe, 

36 schale not when wakyng or aslepe. 

Behold in the Evangelii, and there 36 may see 
How God in owre .werkys takyth gret heed ; 
He sethe the gardynere kyttyth adoune the tree, 
For he bare that 3ere nother frute ne seede : 
How schal thou do then, that arte but a weede, 
And ale thi dayis leve by extorsyoune ? 
Trowyst thou not thou schalt be kyte adowne ? 

3eys, withowte doute, and fast i-bonde 
As a fagot, and then thou schalt be caste 
Into a fyre fare byneth the grond, 


And thus in preson thou schalte syte at ny3te ; 
Thus oure Lord aquyttyz hym at the laste, 
That with wronge poore mennis goodus hathe ; 
Be thou never so fals, thou schalt accontus make. 

And thou that haste Crystus spos dyspysyte, 

Here one erthe, terme of alle thi lyve, 

With hote fyre thou schalt be brent and bylyde ; 

The hosbond nedus most defend the wyfe : 

Wynste thou God sley the not with a kneyfe ? 

Anone he wyl avenge his sentuarrye, 

Thou3e of his mercy he abyde and tarie. 

Rede us this to myend, whyl thou hast thi helthe, 
Of what a state thou be, or of conndesione : 
Thow3e God send the propirte and welthe, 
Day by day he makyth the amonisione, 
By syknes and by wordly persecusione, 
That at the last nedys thou must dye : 
Therfore from syne I rede the fast hye. 

Many a regyonne, and monnye a nottable cyty, 
God hathe dysstryid for here sinnis grete, 
And of monny a thousannt mo he hath had pette, 
Of his goodnes, tho he manese and threte : 
Thouje he be wrothe, he wse not anon to bete, 


He wold so fayne every thinge were welle : 
Amend thowe, therefore ; dyspayre yow never a dele. 

Reymembure youre lyve enduryt but a whylle : 
36 stond in dout ho we longe we and 36 schal abyde; 
Let not yowre dedus yowreselve begyle ; 
Whyl 36 be here for youre soule prowyde. 
Wy3t and dyscreyssyone let be youre gyde ; 
Keppe yowe wel frowe the synnys vij., 
And after youre end 36 schale comme to Heyvyne. 

Amen ! Amen ! 


Lo ! wordly folkus, thou3 this procese of dethe 
Be not swetene, synke not in youre mynde. 
When age commyth, and schorteth is here brethe, 
And dethe commyth, he is not far behynde ; 
Then here dyscression schal wel know and fynde 
That to have mynd of deth it is ful nessesery, 
For deth wyl come ; doutles he wyl not lang tarrye. 

Of what estate 36 be, 3oung or wold, 
That redyth uppon this dredful storrye, 
As in a myrroure here 36 may be-holde 


The ferful ende of al youre joye and glorie : 
Therefore this mater redus us to youre memorie : 
36 that syttyth nowe hye uppon the whele, 
Thynke uppon youre end, and alle schal be wele. 

Erthe uppo erthe is woundyrely wro3te ; 
Erthe uppon erthe has set al his thoujte, 
How erth uppon erthe to erthe schall be brou3te ; 
Ther is none uppon erth has hit in thou3te, 

Take hede ; 
Whoso thinkyse one his end, ful welle schal he sped. 

Erth uppon erth wold be a kynge, 
How erth schal to erthe he thinkes nothinge ; 
When erth byddyth erth his rent whome brynge, 
Then schal erth fro the erth have a hard parttynge, 

With care ; 
For erth uppon erthe wottus never wer therefor to fare. 

Erth uppon erth wynnis castylles and touris ; 
Then say the erth to erth, al this is ourus : 
When erth uppon erth has bylde al his boures, 
Then schal erth fro the erth soifyre scharpe schorys, 

And smarte j 
Man, amend the betyme, thi lyfe ys but a starte. 


Erth gose one erth as mold uppone molde, 
Lyke as erth to the erth never agayne schold : 
Erth gose one erth glytteryng in gold, 
3et schale erth to the erth, rather then he wolde 

Be owris ; 
jefe thi almus with thi hand, trust to no secateur. 

Why that erth lovis erthe merwel me thinke, 
For when erth uppon erth is brotht to the brynk, 
Or why erth uppon erth wyl swet or swynke, 
Then schal erth frou the erth have a fool stynke 

To smele, 
Wars then the caryone that lyis in the fele. 

Lo ! erth uppon erth, consayfe this thou may, 
That thou commys frome the erth nakyd alway ; 
How schuld erth uppon erth, soe prod or gaye ? 
Sene erth into erth schal pase in symple araye, 

Unclad : 
Cloth the nakyd whyl thou may, for so God the bad. 

Erth uppon erth, me thinky3 the ful blynd, 

That on erth ryches to setal thi mynd ; 

In the gospel wryttyen exampul I fynde, 

The pore went to heyvyn, the rych to hel I fynd, 

With skyle : 
The commandmentus of God wold he not fulfyle. 


Erth uppon erth, deyle duly thy goode 

To the pore pepul, that fautt the thi foode ; 

For the love of thi Lord, that rent was one the roode, 

And for thi love one the crose schedhis hart blode, 

Go rede ; 
Withoute anny place to reste one his hede. 

Erthe uppon erth, take tent to my steyvyne ; 
Whyl thou levyst, fulfyle the werkys of mercy vij . 
Loke thou lete, for oode ne for ewyne, 
For tho byne the werkus that helpyne us to heyvyne, 

In haste ; 
Tho dedus who so dose thar, hyme never be agaste. 

Erth uppon erth, be thou never so gaye, 
Thow moue wend of this world an unreydy waye ; 
Turne the be-tyme, whyle that thou maye, 
Leste it lede the into hele, to logege therefor ay, 

In pyne j 
For there is nother to gett, bred, ale ne wyne. 

Erth uppon erth, God 3eyf the grace, 
Whyle thou levvyst uppon erth to purway the a plas 
In heywyn to dweylle, whyl that thou hast space ; 
That myrthe for to myse, it wer a karful case, 

For whye, 
That myrth is withowttyn end, I tel the securly. 


I concele erth uppon erth, that wykydly has wrojt, 
Whyl erth is one erth, to torn alle his tho^t, 
And pray to God uppon erth, that al mad of noirjt, 
That erth owte of erth to blys may be boujt, 

With myjthe, 
Thorow helpe Jhesu Cryst, thatwas ouer ladus byrthe, 

Do for thi self. 


Bi a forrest as I gane fare, 

Walkyng al myselvene alone, 
I hard a mornyng of an haare, 

Rouffully schew madde here mone.- 
Dereworth God, how schal I leve, 

And leyd my lyve in lond ? 
Frou dale to doune I am i-drevfe, 

I not where I may syte or stond ; 
I may nother rest nor slepe 

By no wallay, that is so derne, 
Nor no covert may me kepe, 

But ever I rene fro herne to herne. 
Hontteris wylle not heyre there mase, 

In hope of hunttyng for to wend, 


They cowpully3t there howndus more and lase, 

And bryngyth theme to the feldys ende. 
Rachis rennyn one every syde, 

In forrous thi hoppe me to fynd ; 
Honteris takythe there horse and ryde, 

And cast the conttray by the wynd. 
Anonne as they commyth me behynde, 

I loke alowe, and syt ful style and loue ; 
The furst mane that me doth fynde, 

Anon he cryit, So howe ! So hoowe ! 
Lo ! he sayth, where syttyt an haare ! 

Aryse upe, Watte, and go forthe blyve ! 
With sorroe and with mych care, 

I schape away with my lyve. 
Att wyntter, in the depe snoue, 

Men wyl me sche for to trace, 
And by my steyppus I ame i-knowe, 

And followyjt me fro place to place. 
And yf I to the toune come or torne, 

Be hit in worttus or in leyke, 
Then wyl the wyffys also 36 wrne, 

Fere me with here dogis heyke : 
And yf I syt and crope the koule, 

And the wyfe be in the waye, 
Anone schowe wylle swere, by cokkus soule, 

There is an haare in my haye. 


Anone sche wyle clepe forth hure knave, 

And loke ry^t welle wer I syte ; 
Byhynd sche wyl, with a stave, 

Ful wel porpos me to hette. 
Go forthe, Wate, with Crystus curse, 

And, yf I leve, thou schalt be take ; 
I have an hare-pype in my puree, 

Hit schal be set al for thi sauke. 
Ten hath this wyffys ij. doggz grete, 

On me sche byddyt heme goe, 
And as a scrowe sche wyll me thret, 

And ever sche cryit, go, dooge, gooe ! 
But alle way this most I goo, 

By no banke I may abyde ; 
Lord God, that me is woo, 

Many a hape hath me bytyde. 
There is no best in the word, I wene, 

Hert, hynd, buke ne dowe, 
That suffuris halfe so myche tene 

As doth the sylly Wat, go where he go. 
jeyfe a genttyl mane wyl have anny gamine, 

And fynd me ine forme where I syte, 
For dred of lossynge of his name, 

I wot wele he wyle not me hyte, 
For an acuris bred he wylle me se, 

Or he wylle let his hondus rene. 


Of alle the mene that beth alyve, 

I am moost behold to genttyl- men ; 
As sonne as I can renne to the laye, 

Anon the greyhondys wyl me have. 
My bowels beth i-throue awaye, 

And I ame bore home one a staufe ; 
Als sone as I am come home, 

I ame i-honge hye up on a pyne ; 
With leke worttus I ame eette anone, 

And whelpus play with my skyne. 

Amen, etc. 


GOD that dyed for us alle, 

And dranke both eysell and galle, 

He bryng us alle oute off bale, 

And gyve hym good lyve and long, 

That woll attend to my song, 

And herkyne oneto my talle. 

Ther dwelyd a man in my contre, 

The wyche hade wyvys thre : 

Yn proses of certyn tyme, 

Be hys fyrst wyffe a chyld he had. 

The wyche was a propyr lad, 


And ryght ane happy hynd : 

And his fader lovyd him ryght welle, 

Hys steppe dame lovyd hyme never a delle, 

I telle 30 we as y thynke. 

She thoght it lost, be the rode, 

Alle that ever dyd hyme good, 

Off mette other of drynke ; 

Not halfe ynowe thereof he had, 

And 3yt, in faythe, hit was fulle bad, 

And alle hyr thoght yt lost ; 

Y pray God evyll mot sche fare, 

For oft sche dyde hym moche care, 

As far-forthe as sche durst. 

The good wyffe to hyr husbond gone say, 

For to put away thys boy 

Y hold yt for the beste, 

In fayth he hys a lether lade, 

Y wold sum other man hym had, 

That beter my3t hym chaste. 

Than anone spake the good man, 

And to hys wyff sayd he than, 

He ys but yong of age ; 

He schall be with us lenger, 

Tyll that he be strenger, 

To wyn beter wage ; 

We have a mane, a strong freke, 


The wyche one fyld kypythe owr nette, 

And slepyth half the day ; 

He schall come home, be Mary myld, 

And to the fylde schalle go the chyld, 

And kepe hem, jyfe he may. 

The wyff was not glad varamente, 

Nere-the-les therto sche asente, 

And sayd, Ser, that ys beste. 

Erly yn the morowe, whan it was day, 

Furthe than went the lytelle boy, 

To the feld he was full preste : 

Off no mane ryght nojt he gaffe, 

Uppone hys schulder he bare his stafe, 

The boy was mery y-nowe : 

Furth he went, as y 3ow sayne, 

Tylle he com into the playn, 

Hys dyner forth he drowe ; 

Whan he sawe that yt was bade, 

Lyttyll lust therto he hade, 

He put yt up anone. 

Be Cryst, he was not moche to wyte, 

And sayd he wold ette but lyte, 

Tyll evyn that he com home ; 

Uppon ane hyll he hym sete, 

An old mane sone after he mete 

Cam walkyng be the way : 


God sped, he sayd, good sone ; 
Ser, he sayd, 36 be ry3te welcome, 
The sothe 3ow for to say ; 
The old man was an-hongoryd sore, 
And sayd, Hast thou onny mete in store, 
That thou may gyve me ? 
Ser, he sayd, so God me save ! 
To soche vyttayllys as y have, 
Thou art welcome to me. 
He toke hyme soche as he had, 
And bad hym ette and be glade, 
And sayd, Welcom 36 be ! 
The olde mane was fulle good to pleas, 
He ette and made hyme well at eas, 
Gramersy, sone, sayd he ; 
For thys mete thou haste gyfe me, 
Y schalle the gyve gyftys thre, 
That schalle not be forgete. 
The boy sayd, as y trowe, 
Hit ware best y had a bowe, 
Byrdys for to schete. 

Thou schalt have a bowe and boltes blyth, 
The wych schall dure the alle thy lyve, 
And ever to the alyche mete : 
Schete whersoever thou wyll, 
Thou schalt never faylle, thou schalt it kyll, 



The pryke rydy them schalt kepe : 

The bowe yn hand sone he felt, 

The boltes he put undyr hys belt, 

Ryght meryly than he lowe. 

Be my troth, had y a pype, 

Thoj it war never so lyte, 

Thane war y mery y-now3e ! 

A pype, boy, thou schalt have also, 

Trewe of mesore schall it goo, 

Y put the out of dowte. 

What man that thys pype doth here, 

He schall not hemselfe stere, 

But hope and dawnce aboute. 

Say one, boy, what schall the other be ? 

For thou schalt have gyftes thre, 

As y hote the befor ; 

The lytell boy stode and Iow3e, 

And sayd, In fayth, y have y-nou3e, 

I wyll dyssyer no more. 

The olde man sayd, Y the plyjte ; 

Thou schalt have as y the hyght ; 

Therfore, say on, lete see. 

The boy sayd, Be Saynt Jame, 

Y have at horn a stepe-dame ; 

Sche ys a schrewe to me, 

For whanne my fader gyve me mete, 


Sche wold the devylle schuld me cheke, 

Sche staryth so yn my face : 

Whanne sche lokyth on me soo, 

I wolde sche lete a crake or too, 

That my3t ryng alle the place. 

The olde mane sayd the boy on-too, 

Whan sche lokythe on the soo, 

Sche schalle begyne to blowe ; 

And as many as her dothe here, 

For lawyng schalle they not stere, 

Whyll sche ys there, y trowe. 

No we, far welle, sayd the olde mane, 

And, farwell, sayd the boy thane ; 

My leve y take of the. 

Allmy3ty God, that beste may, 

Spede the bothe nyght and day ! 

Gramercy, sone, sayd he. 

Afterward, whanne it was nyjte, 

Horn went the boy full ryght, 

As was hys ordynance. 

He toke hys pype and gane to blowe, 

Hys bestes com rakyng on a rawe, 

Abowt hym they gan to daunce ; 

The boy pypyd throw3 the town, 

The bestes hym foloyd alle and some 

Horn to hys fadyrs clos. 



Anone as ever he com home, 

He sete up hys bestes anone, 

And yn to the halle he gos. 

Hys fader at soper sat, 

The lytyll boy aspyed that, 

And spake to hys fader anone. 

He sayd, Jake, well come ! 

Wher ar thy bestes, good sone ? 

Hast thou hem bro3t home ? 

Fader, he sayd, yn good fay, 

Y have heme kept alle this day, 

And they be now up-schete. 

A capons legge he toke hym thoo, 

And sayd, Sone, that ys welle doo, 

Thou schalt fare the bete. 

That grevyd hys dames hart fulle sore, 

As y have told 3ow before ; 

Sche staryd in hys face. 

Anone sche lete goo a blaste, 

That sche mad hem alle agaste, 

That war yn that place. 

All they low and had good game, 

The wyffe sche wex rede for schame, 

Sche wold a be agone. 

Jake sayd, wylle 36 wytte, 

That gonne was welle smet, 


Tho3 it had be with a stonne, 

Angerly sche lokyd on hym thoo, 

Another rape sche lette goo ; 

Hyr ars was ny to-rente. 

Jake sayd, Wyll je see ; 

Another pelat sche wyll lete fley, 

Or ever that sche wylle stent. 

Every man lowj and had good game ; 

The wyff went hyr way for schame, 

Sche was in mykyll sorowe. 

The good man sayd, Go thy way, 

For it ys tyme, be my fay, 

Thyne ars ys not thy borowe. 

Afterward than wyll 36 here, 

To the hows there come a freyre, 

And loggyd ther all nyght ; 

The wyff lovyd hym as a seynt, 

Anone to hyme mad sche hyr playnt, 

And tolde hym full ryght, 

We have a boy that with us wonys, 

He is a schrewe for the nonys, 

And doth me mekylle care : 

Y dar note loke hym upone, 

I am aschamyd, be swet Seynt Johne, 

To telle 30 w how y fare : 

And 3yff 36 mete that boy to morow, 

Bete hym welle, and gyve hym sorow, 


And make that lad lame. 

Be God, he ys a schrewd byche, 

In fayth, y trow, he be a wyche, 

He dothe me mykyll grame. 

The freyr sayd, Y wyll wyte. 

Y pray the, ser, lete it not be forgete, 

For that wold greve me sore. 

The fryer sayd, Yn good fay, 

But y chastys welle that boy, 

Trust me never more. 

Erly in the morow the boy he ros, 

And Iy3tly to the feld he gos ; 

Hys bestes he gan dryve ; 

The freyr went out at the gate, 

He wend he schuld have come to late ; 

He ranne fast and blyth. 

Whanne he come one hye the lond, 

Sone the boy ther he fond, 

Kypyng hys bestes ylkone. 

Boy, he sayd, God gyve the schame ! 

What hast thou done to thi dame ? 

Loke thou tell me anone ; 

But yf thou kane excus the better, 

Thou schalt abye, be the seker, 

Y wyll no longer abyde. 

Ser, he sayd, what aylys the nowe ? 

My dame farythe as well as thowe ! 


What menys thou thus to chyd ? 

Ser, he sayd, and 30 wylle wytt, 

How welle byrdes that y kan schett, 

And do heme down to fall : 

3ondyr is on that ys but lytte, 

As y trow, y schall hym smytt, 

And gyve hym the y scliall. 

The byrd sat upon the breyr : 

Schot one, boy, sayd the freyr, 

For that me leste to se. 

The boy hyt the byrd upon the heel, 

Yn the hegge he fell down dede ; 

Hyt myght no forther fley. 

The freyr into the hegge he went, 

And lyjtly he it up hent, 

As it was for to done. 

The boy cast down hys bowe, 

And toke hys pype and began to blowe 

Full lyjtly and full sone; 

Whanne the freyr the pype herde, 

As a wood mane than he ferd, 

And began to stertyll abowt. 

Among the boyschys small and grete, 

Fast abowte he gan to lepe, 

But he cowd not come owte. 

The bramblys chrachyd hym in the face, 

And in many another place, 


That hys sydes began to blede, 

And rent hys clothys by and by, 

Hys kyrtyll and hys kapelary, 

And alle hys other wede. 

The freyr often held up hys hond, 

And cryed unto the boy among, 

And prayd him to be stylle. 

Ser, my trewt y plyght to the ; 

Thou schalt have no harm for me, 

Nor never wyll do the yll. 

The boy sayd yn that tyde, 

Crepe oute on the tother syde, 

And hye that thou ware agoo ; 

My dame hathe mad hyr complaynt to me, 

In fayth the best that y kan se ; 

Goo playn to hyr also. 

The freyr out of the hegge went, 

All to-ragged and to-rent, 

To-torne on every syde. 

He had not left an nolle clowte, 

Wherwith to hyde hys body abowte ; 

Hys armes heng full syde. 

Whan he come to hys oste, 

Off hys jurney mad he no boste, 

He was both torne and talle ; 

Mykyll sorowe in hert he had ; 

Full sore of hym they wer adrad, 


Whan he come into the halle. 

The good wyffe sayd, Wer hast thou be ? 

Yn schrewyd plas, as thynkys me, 

Hyt semyth be thyne aray. 

The freyr sayd, Y have be with thi sone ; 

The devell of helle hym overcome, 

For certes y ne may. 

Soon after com horn the good man ; 

Be God, sayd the wyffe than, 

Her is a schrewed aray ! 

Thy sone, that is the lyffe and deyre, 

Had all-most slayn this swet freyr, 

Alas ! alas ! a welle away ! 

The good mane sayd, Benedycyte ! 

What hath the boy do to the ? 

Tell me, without stryffe. 

Ser, he sayd, be Seynt Jame, 

Y have dawnsyd in the devylys name, 

Tyll y had ny loste my lyff ! 

The good mane sayd to hym tho, 

Yff thou had lost thy lyff so, 

Thou had be in gret syne. 

Ser, sayd the freyr, sekerly, 

Methow3t he pyped so meryly, 

That y cowde never blyne. 

The good man sayd, So mot y thee, 

Than is that a mery glee, 


And ellys thou war to blame ; 

That pype, he sayd, woll y here. 

So wolle not y, quod the freyere, 

Be God and be Seynt Jame ! 

Afterward, whan it was ny3t, 

Horn come the boy full ry3t, 

As he was wont to done ; 

Whan he com into the hall, 

Anone hys fader gane hyme call, 

And sayd, Hydyr com thou, sone. 

Boy, he sayd, now thou art here, 

What hast thou done to thys freyr ? 

Tell me without lessyng. 

Fadyr, he sayd, yn good fay, 

Y dyd ryjt nojt to hym to day, 

But pyped hym a spryng ; 

Boy, that pype wyll y here : 

So wyll not y, quod the freyr, 

For that wer hevy tydyng. 

The good man sayd, 3ys, be Godes grace. 

The freyr sayd, alas ! alas ! 

And handes began to wryng. 

For Gods love, sayd the freyr, 

Yff 36 wyll thys pype here, 

Bynd me one to a poste. 

Y-wys y kan no beter rede, 

Well y wot y schall be dede, 


My lyff is ny-hand loste. 

Ropys anon they toke in hond, 

The freyr to the post they bond, 

That stod in the mydes of the halle. 

All they that at the soper sate 

Low3, and had good game ther ate, 

And sayd, the freyr my3t not fall. 

Than bespake the good mane, 

And to hys sone sayd he thanne, 

Pype on whan thou wylt. 

All redy, fadyr, sayd he ; 

36 schall her of my gle, 

Y wyll geve yowe a fytt. 

As sone as ever the pype went, 

Then my3t no man hymselfe stent, 

But began to dawnce and lepe. 

They that gan the pype here, 

Myght not hemselfe stere, 

But hurled upone an hepe. 

Than they that at soper sate, 

Over the tabull 3ede som under crape, 

And sterte up in that stond. 

They that sat upon the forme, 

Had no tyme for to torne, 

But war bore downe to the ground. 

The good man wex in dyspayr, 

And Iy3tly he lept out of hys chare, 


And with a full good chere ; 

Som in fayth lepe over the stoke, 

And brake her schynys ajens the bloke, 

And som fell yn the fyere. 

Than com in the good wyff behynd, 

Sche began to lepe and to wynd, 

And fast began to schake. 

Whan sche lokyd one lytell Jake, 

And hyr neybors to hyr spake, 

Hyr ars began to crake : 

The freyr was all-moste loste, 

He knokyd hys hed ajen the post, 

He had no beter grace. 

The ropys robyd away the skyne, 

That the blode ran to hys chyne, 

In many a dyverys place. 

Than whent the boy pypyng in the stret, 

And after hym hurlyd all the hepe, 

They cowd not hemselfe stynt : 

They went out at the dor so thyke, 

That eche man fell in otherys neke, 

So wyghtly out they wente. 

Than the men that dwelyd therby, 

They herd the pype sekyrly, 

In setes wher they sette. 

Som in fayth lepe over the hache, 

They had no tyme to seche the lache, 


For they were loth to lette. 

Than they, that in here bedys lay, 

Stert up Iy3tly, as y 3ow say, 

Both las and more. 

Ynto the strete to the play 

Anone they toke the ryjt way, 

As nakyd as they wer bore ; 

Whan they were gaderyd all abowt, 

Than was ther a fulle grete rowte 

In the mydys of the strete : 

They that wer lam and myjt not goo, 

3ete they hopyd abowte also 

On her hondys and fete. 

The boys fader sayd, it is tyme to reste ; 

All redy, fader, y hold that for the beste, 

With a full good chere. 

Make an end whan thou wylt ; 

In fayth it is the beste fyte, 

That y herd thys vij. yere. 

Whan the pype went no more, 

Than wer they all amarvelyd sore 

Off ther governaunce. 

By sente Mary, sayd some, 

Wher ys all thys myrthe become, 

That mad us thus to dawnce ? 

Thus every man mad good cher ; 

Save the good wyff and the freyr, 


They wer all dyssmayd. 

Whether it be good or yll, 

They that have not her wylle, 

They wyll not hold them payd. 

Hyt ys every good wyffys wone, 

For to love hyr husbandes sone, 

Yn well and eke yn woo ; 

In olde termys it is fownd, 

He that lovythe me lovythe my hound, 

And my servaunt also. 

So schuld every good chyld 

Be to hys moder meke and myld, 

Be good in every degre. 

All womene that love her husbondes sone, 

Yn hevyn blys schall be her wone ; 

Amen, Amen, for charyte ! 


As I stod in a ryalle haulle, 

Where lordys and ladys were byd to syt, 
A loufly letter one a walle, 

A word of wysdome I sawe wryt ; 
This word ys in my hert i-knyt ; 

To lern this lessone who soo hath wylle, 


Where ewyre thou goo, stond, or sytt, 

Ewyre say wylle, or hold the styll. 
Say wylle, or keppe thi word in store, 

For speche was never soo well aspayd, 
Nor never soo monne lyvis i-lore, 

Throw wordys that hath byn myssayd. 
Now wysly, mane, thi wordis dewyd j 

Be- war whom thou spekyst hylle ; 
Yf thou most nedys the sowth to hyde, 

3eyt say wylle, or hold the stylle. 
For soothe may not alle day be sayd, 

Among soo mony as raynnyt nowe ; 
Yff som of the sothe be well apayd, 

jet some wylle not the sowthe alowe : 
And hard hit is ewyre word to awowe, 

Though hit be never of soo gret a skylle, 
Therefore I rede yow for youre prowe, 

Evyre say wylle, or hold yow stylle. 
Where-evyre thou fall in company, 

Att churche, at chepyng, or at nale, 
Awyse the welle who syttys the by, 

Lest he wylle repport thi talle, 
And dysschalndure the after to gret and smalle, 

Thy good los with his spyche to spylle. 
Evylle tongys brwys myche balle ; 

Therefore say wylle, or hold the stylle. 


Evyre say wylle, for lowfe or drede, 

And chast thi tong with wyt and charryte, 
And say be thi ney3theboure, yf he have nede, 

Ry3t as thou woldyst he sayd be the. 
Among alle thingis thowjt ys fre ; 

Hold thiself abowff the hyll ; 
In rest and eyse yf thou wyll be : 

And evyre say wylle, or hold the style. 
Roule thi tong for lowf or hate, 

Be noo parttys none evylle thou say, 
Nor thowth men be now at the batte, 

Thay may be frendys anodyre day. 
And for thi tale thou mayst bere the blame away, 

Of every syde with gram and grille : 
Thanne thei wyll the Iy3tly afray, 

Therefor say wylle, or hold the sty lie. 
Say welle, and thynke one yooth and eld, 

Frow God may nothing be hyde nore loke ; 
But think one the rekenyng that thou schalt 3eyld, 

Off every ydylle word that thou hast spoke, 
Les and more hole and brouk, 

Thay schalle be wryttyne in a bylle ; 
Lest God one the wylle be awroke, 

Evyre say wylle, oore hold the sty lie. 
For off all that God hath wro3t, 

Spyche ys com of a speschalle grace ; 


A best hath a mothe, but he spekkyt 1103!, 

Of God we have that fayre purches ; 
Now spend welle thi spyche, wyl thou hast space, 

One truthe let ever thi tong tryle ; 
Thow schalt a-se the day pas ; 

Thowwolddystfayn spek, when thou schalt be styll. 
At domys-day when God schalt syt 

On the rowd, as he was tak, 
With speche we schalle be damnd or quyt, 

There schalle no man ther mastre mak ; 
Then I hope owre sorrow schalle aslake, 

When all stondyt evyn, both dale and hyle ; 
A sinfulle man wylle sorrow may mak, 

When God schalle speke, and man be stylle. 
Noue God geyf us grace ouer speche to spend, 

Soo that we may, withouttyne nay, 
All that ever we have myssayd amend, 

Or that we com to that dredfulle day, 
Whan God schal sit and his armis dyssplay, 

Gabrelle schalle bloo both brymne and scry lie ; 
Then helpp us He that best may, 

To heywyn wynd, and ther abyd stylle. 

Amen, etc. 



HERE begynnyth a schorte tretice for a mane to knowe 
wyche tyme of the 3ere hit is best to graffe or to plante 
treyus, and also to make a tre to bere o manere frute 
of dyverys colourys and odowrys, with many othere 

Whenne the mone is in Tauro hit is good to plante 
treys of pepyns, and whenne hit is in Cancro, in Leone, 
or in Libra, thanne hit is good to werche in treys that 
be new spronge : and whenne the mone is in Virgine, 
hit is good tyme to sowe alle maner thynges, for fro 
the myddys of Januarie, Septembyre into the myddys 
of Decembyre, and than is opyne tyme of plantynge 

and ryjt ddys of Januarie into the .... 

he but in thys tyme is the mone is v. 

vj. vij. viij. or ix. days old byfor the fulle of the mone. 
Also, after the fulle of the mone, whenne hit is xxj. 
xxij. xxiij. xxiiij. or xxv. days old; for in thyes 
quarterys the conjunction is moste temperate. 

Also to remeve treys fro place to place : jiff it be a 
grete tre, or a tre that berythe the frute, chese the a 
fulle mone fro the myddys of Octobyre into the myddys 
of Decembyre, takynge up the rotys as hole as thou 
mayste, and leve of his howne erthe stylle abowte the 


rote as myche as thou mayste, and hit is not 

se tho the mone be not lie so hit be in the 

secund quarter. This governance is in 

plantyng and kepynge, and maketh dowbelyng beryng 
of frute. There is moste connabylle tyme for sedys, 
graynys, and pepyns, and Autumpe for spryngys, and 
plantys, that one tre may bere dyvers frutys, and dyvers 
colourys and dyvers savorys. 

In the fyrste 3ere, graffe in dyvers branchys of a 
cheri tre dyvers graffys to thy lykynge, and leve some 
of thy branchys ungraffyd ; the secund 3ere, make holys 
thorow the chery tree, and drawe thorow an hole a 
vyne branche, and schave away the utter rynd, so that 
hyt fylle the hole, and let hyt stond so a 5ere, and than 
kut away the rotys, and of the vyne, and wrappe hit 
abowte welle with temperat erthe, and wynd hyt welle 
with lynnyn clothe, and the same maner thro3e anothere 
hole of a rede rosere branche. 

For to have frute of dyvers colourys, thou schalt 
make an hole in a tre ny3e the rote, evene to the pythe 
of the tre, and than do therein good asure of Almayne, 
so hyt be ny3e fulle, and stope the hole welle with a 
schort pyne, and wrap hit welle with temperat erthe, 
and wynd hit welle, as thou doste a graffe, and that 
frute schalbe of blewe colour, and so hit may be do of 
a vyne, and this may be do with alle manere colourys. 

F 2 


Iff thou wylt that thy appyllys be rede, take a graff 
of an appyltre, and ympe hit opone a stoke of an elme 
or an eldre, and hit schalbe rede appylles. Also 
Master Richard saythe, to do the same thyngge, make 
an hole with a wymbulle, and what colour that thou 
wylt dystemper with water, and put hit in at the hole, 
the frute schalbe the same colour. And wytt welle 
every tre that is plantyd and set in the erthe one the 
feste of Seynt Lambarte schalle not be perichyd that 
3ere. Iff thou wylt make a tre to bere as myche frute 
as ever he dyd byfore, dystemper scamony welle with 
water, and put in an hole that is perichyd to the pyth 
of a tre, and stope the hole with a pynne that is made of 
the same tre, and hit schalle bere as welle as ever hit dyd. 

For to make an old tre that begynnyth to wex drye 
to quykyne a3ene. Aristotille tellyth in the Boke of 
Plantes, the erthe that is abowte the rotys most be do 
away. And thenne chese ij. or iij. of the gretter rotys, 
and cleve hem with a ax, and dryve a wegge of tymbyre 
in the clevynge, and kever the rotes a3ene with the 
same erthe. 

Also frute that is sowre, for to make hit swete. 
Aristotylle seyth, in the Boke of Plantes, the tre schalbe 
bedolvyne abowte, and dongyd with pygges dongge. 
Also make a hole with a wymbylle, and put therein 
water y-medyllyd with hony, and stope the hole a3ene 


with a pyne of the same tre, and loke the hole passe 
not the pythe of the tre. 

Also that a perle, or a precius stone, or a ferthyng, 
or ony othere maner thynge be fownd in an appylle. 
Take a appulle, or a pere, after hit is flowryd, and 
sumwhat waxyne, and thrust in hard at the huddes 
end wych thou wolte one of thyes thynges aforesayde, 
and let hit growe, and marke welle the appulle that 
thou dyd put in the thynge what ever hit be. 

Also hit is sayde there sehalbe no tre perischyde 
that is plantyd in thys maner. Take and put a welowe 
stoke in a forowe y-made in the erthe for the nonys, 
and lett hym growe then above ; one the upper syde 
make holys evene longe, as many as thou wylt, in the 
wyche clyftes put smalle branchis of the mulbery tre, 
or of othere, the wych most be kut in maner of a 
wegge, that the plantynge may stond juste in the clyftes, 
and stope the clyftes be-syde, and so put all the stoke 
of the welow under the forowe, that hit be hid under 
the erthe, the wych if thou wylt after the fyrst 3ere is 
paste or the secund, depart hit one sondyre, or thou 
mayste kut hit with a sawe betwene the 3onge branchis 
asondere, and so plante hem in dyvers placis. 

Also yf a peche tre begynne to dry, let hym be welle 
moystyd with donge. And Paladys seythe hit is best 
dongyng with dreggys of wyne, and that same dongyng 


kepyth hym fro schedyng of hys frute : and some othyre 
sayne that the beste donge of hym is that he be moystyd 
with water of the sethyng of benys ; and yf the pechys 
begynne to falle, cleve the rotes with an ax, and in the 
clyft dryve a wegge mayd of a pynsapylle tre, or ellys 
make holys with a wymbulle, and make pynnys of 
welow, and smyte heme in fast with a maylet of tre, 
and than wolle the frute abyde thereon. 

Iff an appulle tre begyne to rote, or yf the appulles 
wax rotyne, thanne hit is a-seyne that the barke of the 
tre is syke, therefore kut hit with a knyffe, and lett hyt 
be opynyd, and when the humerus thereof sumwhat 
be flown owte, lett dong hym welle, and stoppe a3ene 
the opynyng with towje clay. 

Iff thou wolt that in the stone of a peche appulle be 
fownd a nott kyrnelle, graffe a sprynge of a peche tre 
one the stoke of a nott tre. Also a peche tre schalle 
brynge forthe pomegarnardys, if hit be spronge oft 
tymys with gotys my Ike iij. days, when hit begynnyth 
to flower. Also the appullys of a peche tre schalle 
wex rede, yff his syone be graffyd one a playne tre. 
Alle the same grafiyng may be understond of an 
grysmolle tre ; that is better than a peche. 

Iff wormys wex in a tre, take askys that be medelyd 
with oyle, olyve, or myrre, and that schalle sle hem. 
And therto also is good to stryke the tre with myxture 


made with ij. partys of ox pysse, and the third part of 

The quynce tre wold be remevyd every fourthe 
3ere, alle the whyle that hit is abylle to be plantyd, 
and that schalle make hym to bere grete plente of frute. 
Also hit is good for alle maner treys, that whenne a bowe 
is kutte away, that the place there as the bowe is kutt, 
that hit be hyllyd with a plaster of erthe, for to defend 
wedyrs and waterys sokynge therein. Et-c. Amen. 

To make cheris to growe withowte stonys. Cleve a 
jonge schote of a 3onge cherytre that is a spanne longe 
or ij. fro the toppe evene downe to the rote, but let 
hym stond stylle on the stalke, and thanne drawe 
owte the pyth one ever) 7 syd with some maner of iryne, 
and anone joyne every perty togedyre, and bynd hem 
welle, and donge hem welle with clay one every syd 
fro the toppe to the rotte, and when a jere is paste 
there hys wond is, sowde a graffe in the same stoke a 
syone that never bare frute, and thereon schalle growe 
cherys withoute ony stonys. Also a grape to growe 
withowte pepyns, whenne the pythe of the vyne is 
take owte. Also of alle othyre y-lyke. 

Iff thou wolt have many rosys in thy herbere, thou 
schalte take a hard pepyne of the same rose that be 
ry3t rype, and sawe heme in the erthe in Feve^ere 
or in Marche, and whenne they spryngyne, dewe heme 


welle with water, and after that thou mayste transpose 
hem ey there frome othere, etc. 

Also, he that wylle have rosys tymely to blowe, 
dewe heme abowte the space of ij. hand-brede, and 
moyste her syons oft tymys with hoote water. 


Here begynnyth the crafte of lymnynge of bokys; who 
so kane wyesly considere the nature of his colours, 
and kyndely make his commixtions with naturalle pro- 
porcions, and mentalle indagacions connectynge fro 
dyvers recepcions by resone of theyre naturys, he 
schalle make curius colourys, etc. 

To temper vermelone to wryte therewith. Grynde 
vermelone one a stone with newe glayre, and put a 
lytylle of the 3olke of an ay thereto, and so wryte 
therewith ; and if thou wylle temper it to floryche with 
bokys, take and grynde hit smalle, and temper hyt 
with gum water. 

To temper asure, grynd hit one a stone, with the 
thyrdyndele of gume and twyse so mych of water. 

To temper roset, grynd hit one a stone, with as 
myche gume and also myche water as of rosytt. 

To temper ceruse, grynd hit one a stone with water 
and gume. 


To temper rede lede, medylle hyt wyth gleyre of ane 
egge, and temper hit in a schelle with thy fyngere. 

To make grene coloure, take the juce of wortys and 
vetegrece, and medylle heme welle togedyre, and thou 
schalt have a good grene. 

To temper turnnesole, wete hit in watere of gume, 
and chaufe hit in thy hond. 

A false asure and dede. Take ceruse and rosyne, 
and medylle heme togedyre. 

To make asure to schyne bryjt. Take byralle, and 
grynd hit with gleyre, and glase above with a penselle. 

For an incarnacion, take sable and saffrone, and rede 
lede, and medylle heme welle togedyre, &c. 

To make a cyse to gyld unburned gold one bokys. 
Take chalke and a lytylle saffrone, and gleyre, and 
grynd hem togedyre a longe tyme one a stone, tylle hit 
be somdele tacchynge, and thanne put hit into ane 
home, and if hit be nede, alay hit with water, and so 
worke therewith. Also take bule and ceruse, and 
gleyre, and saffrone, or the same manere take the 
scrapynge of ymages that be olde. 

To temper asure fyne, take asure, and put hit in a 
home, and put thereto gume and watere halfe one 
halfe, othere more or lesse, if hit be nede ; and take a 
lytylle styke, and stampe hem welle togedyre to hit be 
evene medelyd, and thanne wryte therewith. 


Also yf thou temper asure in a schelle, put a lytylle 
asure into a schelle, and gum water, and rub hit faste 
togedyre with thyne fyngere, and thenne worche hit as 
thou wolt, with a penselle. 

Iff vermelone be blake and bade, grynde hit welle 
one a stone alle drye, and thanne put hit into a pece 
of sylver, and wasche hit welle with clene water ij. or 
iij. tyme, and thanne poure owte the water therefro, 
and make a pytt in a clene chalke stone, and cast in 
that pytt alle thy vermelone, and let hit stonde so a 
whyle to hit be rede ; and thanne grynd hit eft-sone 
one a stone, and thanne ley hit obrode one a skyne of 
parchernent to dry in the sonne ; and whenne thou 
wylle, temper hit to wryte with. Take the rynde of a 
walnot tre, and schere hit smalle in the gleyre of egges, 
and let hit stond so a whyle, and than temper there- 
with thy vermelone withowte ony more gryndynge. 

To temper rosette, put hit into a schelle with gleyre 
that is newe made thereto, tylle hit be welle y-scorpyd, 
and thenne amenge hit with thy fyngere, and so worche 
there with. 

To make a false asure, take a lytylle asure and a 
lytylle seruse, and grynd hem togedyre with gume and 
water, and temper hit uppe in a schelle. 

To make a false roset. Do as thou dyd with the 
asure in alle wyse. 


To make seruse, take seruse gum and water, and 
grynd hem togedyre, and temper hit uppe in a schelle, 
and wryte therwith whyelle that hit is new. 

To temper a good grene : take good vertgrese, and 
a lytelle argule and saffrone, and grynd heme welle 
togedyre with wyne or with venegre or ale, or the juce 
of a appulle, tylle hit be grene y-noje ; and if hit be 
to derke, take more saffrone, and iff hit be to 3elowe, 
take more vertegrece, and put hit in a schelle, and 
wryte therewith. 

To temper rede lede. Do rede lede into a schelle, 
and put newe gleyre thereto, and temper hit with thy 
fyngere, and worche hit. 

To temper turnesole; lay a lytelfe pece in thyne 
hond, and put thereto newe gleyre, and temper hit oft 
in the pawme of thyne hond, and wrynge hit into a 
schelle, and so worch therewith. 

To make a fyne blake, take a clene pece of brasse, 
or a basyne, and hold hit overe a brynynge candelle of 
roseyne, to the fyre have congeylyd blacke on the brase 
or one the basyne ; and whenne there is inoje thereone, 
ley hit downe to hit be cold, and thanne wyppe hit of 
with a fethyre opone a clene stone, and grynd hit with 
gume and water ; than put hit in a schelle, and worche 
hit. Also thou mayste wete thy basyn with good ale 
or thy pece of brasse, and hold hit overe the candelle, 


and do as thou dydyste ere ; thanne thou schalt have 
fyne blacke. 

To temper ockere, grynd hit with gume and water, 
and if thou wylle do a lytylle whyte thereto, do hit in 
a schelle and worche hit. 

To visage coloure; take fyne blake and saffrone, 
and grynd hit togedyre, and putt hit into a schelle and 
worche therewith. 

To make ane incarnacione ; take whyte and a lytelle 
rede, and temper heme togedyre, and worche hit so. 

To temper brasylle good to newe with ; schave thy 
brasylle smalle into a clene veselle, and do gleyre 
thereto, and so let hit stepe longe tyme togedyre, and 
when hit is stept y-no3e, worche therewith. 

To make gume ; take the whyte of xx. egges, and 
make clere gleyre of heme, and thanne take a bledder 
of a beste that is newe slayne, and put therein thy 
gleyre, and knyt faste the bladdere, and honge hit in 
the sonne or overe the fyre in the smoke xl. days, and 
thanne hast thou good gum for alle inckys. 

Asure in anothere manere; take stronge venegre, 
and wasshe thyne asure therewith ij. or iij. tymys, as 
longe as thou fyndys ony fylthe above the venegre, 
and whanne thou fyndys thyne asure alle blewe y-no3e, 
powre owte the venegre clene, and if the asure be alle 
grete of grayne, temper hit with the water of gume, 


and the lengere hit stondeth y-tempered, the better hit 
wol be. 

Grene for bokys; grynde welle j. li. of vertgrece 
on a stone, and put thereto a chyde of saffrone in the 
gryndyng thereof, or more, and hit nede, to thou se hit 
be grene y-noje, and thanne temper hit uppe with the 
juce of a rotyne appylle strayned thorowe a clene 
clothe, and let it stond so ij. days in an home withowte 
ony straynyng ; and whanne thou wolte worche there 
with, take of the clereste that hovy3te above, and 
there thou schalt fynde a goode grene for alle maner 
thynges, and medelle the juce of the appulle with a 
lytelle gume water. 

To make tornesole in anothere manere : take gum 
water, and put hit into a schelle of an oystere ; then 
take a pece of tornesole, and ley hit in the water of 
gum, and let hit ly awhyle therein, and then wrynge 
it thro3e a clothe to thou se the water be welle colouryd, 
and than floryche bokys therewith that have rede 

To make brasyle to flouryche letterys, or to reule 
with bokys ; take braysyle, and scrape hit smale with 
a knyfe, and putt thereto a lytelle gleyre, and a 
lytelle powder of alom glasse, and let hit stond so alle 
a day, and thanne streyne the juce therefro throje a 
lynnene clothe, and rule bokys therewith. 


To temper seruse. Grynd hit smalle one a stone 
with gum water, and so worche therewith. 

Iff thou wylt preve asure bice, if hit be good or 
badde, take a penselle or a penne, and drawe smale 
rulys on blew letteris with the seruse, and if thi seruse 
be not clere and bryjte and wyte, but fade and dede, 
than is the asure-bice not good ne fyne. 

How thou schalte make cenopere : take v. galonis 
of old urine, and do sethe hit overe the fyre to hit be 
clere and welle y-stomyd, and than let hit kele to hit 
be lewke-warme; and than take j. li. lake, and breke 
hit smale, and serse hit into powdere, and put that 
powdere into the uryne by lytelle and lytelle, and alwey 
stere hit welle, and than eft-sone set hit one the fyre 
to hit boyle, and than strayne hit thro3e a bagge of 
canvas, so that alle the drastys byleve thereine, and 
thanne eft-sone set hit on the fyre to hit boyle, and in 
the boylynge put therein iij. unce of alome glasse made 
into powdere, and alwey stere hit, and whanne hit hathe 
sodyne awhyle, take hit fro the fyre and thanne take j. 
unce, and j. di. of alome glas molte into clere water, 
and sprynge of that water alle abowte, and that schalle 
gadere alle thy mater togedyre, and than streyne hit 
throje a smale bagge of lynnen clothe, and of the sub- 
stance that levythe in the bagge after the straynynge 
make smalle ballys thereof, as hit were hasylle nottes, 


and let hem dry withowte ony sonne or wynd, and than 
take j. li. of turbentyne, and j. li. of frankencens, and 
melte hem togedyre, and put thereto oyle of lynsede, 
as myche as nedythe ; and thus thou schalt asay iff hit 
be welle molte togedyre, take a drop or ij. of clere 
water, and sprynge hit thereinne ; and than take a lytelle 
thereof bytwene thy fyngyrs, and if hit be holdynge 
togedere as gum-wex, than hit is good and fyne, and 
if it do not so, put thereto more oyle to hit be holdynge 
as wex, and than let hit kele, for hit is made welle. 

To make aurum misticum : take a vyele of glas, 
and lute hit welle, or elles a longe erthyne potte ; and 
take j. li. of salle armoniac, j. li. of sulphere, j. li. of 
mercury crude, j. li. of tynne : melt thyne tynne, and 
than caste thy mercury therein, and so alle the othere 
by-foreseyde ; and grynd all thyes togedyre opone a 
stone, and thanne put alle thyes togedyre into a vyole, 
or into ane erthyne pote, and stoppe alle the mowthe 
thereof, safe only a lytelle hole, as a spowte of a pauper 
or of perchemyne may be set thereinne ; and than set 
hit overe the fyre in a furneyse, but furst make an esy 
fyre, and afterward a good fyre the space of xxiiij. 
howrys, to thou se no more brethe come owte of the 
glas, and than take hit fro the fyre, and breke the 

To make a good grene. Take j. ii. of limayle of 


coper, and ij. li. of unsleked lyme, and a galone of 
venegre, and put thyes in an erthyne potte, and stoppe 
faste the mowth thereof that none eyre come therein, 
save a lytelle hole above, and so let hit stonde in the 
erthe, or in a donge hille, iiij. monthys. 

To make letterys of gold ; fyrste make clere glayre, 
and afterward take whytte chalke that is dry, and of 
the ryngynge of thyne egges, and grynd hem togedyre 
alle one a stone the space of ij. owrys, and thanne put 
thereto a lytelle saffrone, but loke that thy coloure be 
not to 3elowe, and loke there come no water thereto 
but gleyre bothe in the gryndynge and in the temper- 
yng, and let hem stonde so iij. or iiij. days; but if hit 
be temperyd with old gleyre, thou mayst worche 
therewith anone, and if hit be newe gleyre, let hit 
stond iij. or iiij. days, and thanne make letterys there- 
with, and let hit ly to dry alle a day ; and be well ware 
that thou handelle hit nojte with thyne hondys, 
whanne hit is dry, for if thou do, hit wylle take no 
golde; and whenne thy letter is fully dry, take the 
tothe of a bore or of an hogge, and take uppe thy 
gold with a penselle in thi lefte hond, and ley hyt one 
the letter, and lett thy left hond go byfore thy ry3te, 
and with thy ry3te hond do rub one thy gold with the 
tothe of the bore, and thou schalt se fayre letterys. 
And if thou wolle make letterys one a borde, ley thy 


syse as thynne thereone as thou mayste, and do alle 
the remanant as is seyd before. 

To make whyte lede ; take platys, and make in 
everyche of hem ane hole in the one ende, and hange 
hem one a stafe, as thou woldyste hange sprottes, so 
that no plate towch othere, and thanne in a tunne or in 
a barelle put venegre or eyselle, and honge the platys 
there overe, and stoppe faste the mowthe of the vesselle 
that none eyre come in ne owte, and let hit stonde so 
vj. wekys, and, after the vj. wekys, opyne the vesselle 
softly, and take uppe the platys esely, and schave of 
the whytte that is one heme uppone a dene borde, and 
whanne thou wolt worche therewith, grynd hit welle, 
and temper hit with gleyre of hogges, or with gum water, 
but that is not so good as is the gleyre. 

To make rede lede. Take iij. or iiij. pottes of erthe 
more than a foote longe, and lett the pottes be over 
alle a-lych myche fro the bothum to the mowthe, and 
than take whytte lede, and put hit to heche potte a 
goode 'quantite, and thanne sett thy pottes alonge in 
an ovyne made therefore, every potte bysyde othere, 
and lette the mowthys of the pottes ly a party owt of 
the ovyns mowthe, and than make a good fyre, to the 
pottes be welle hote, and than take owte one of the 
pottys, and hyld owte that is thereinne on a stone, and 
grynd hit faste alle hoote a good cowrse with venegre, 



and than put hit into the potte ajene, and ley hit in the 
ovyne as hit was byfore ; and so take eche after othere 
as thou dydeste byfore, to thou se the lede turne into 
a fayre rede and a fyne at thy lykynge, but loke thou 
sese not of gryndyng of the lede with venegre, ne of 
bakynge, to thou have do, for thys makyng is perfytte. 

To temper rede lede : grynd hit as thou doste ver- 
melone, and wesshe hyt, and dry hit, and so in all 
wysse do as here is sayde before, and thou schalt do 

To wryte on a swerd or one a knyfe ; take the pow- 
der of alome glas, and salle gemme, and temper hit 
with olde uryne, &c. 

To dy grene threde ; fyrste do woode hit, and than 
take the lye of woode asschys, and take woode, and cut 
hit in to a lytylle porcione of vertegrece, and a quantite 
of blake sope, and put hit to the threde, and so sethe 
hem togedyre, and hyt wolbe fyne. 

To sowde ; take boras, and sethe hit in water, and 
wete thy thynge therewith. 

To make sowder of tynne ; take v. partys of pece 
sylvere, and of latone, and do medylle hit togedyre 
with a lytelle boras. 

To make coralle ; take harttes hornnys, and madere 
ane handfulle or more, and sethe hit to hit be as 
nesshe as glew. 


To dy selke. To dy rede sylke ; take brasylle, and 
schave hit smalle, and boyle hit in the water of a marie 
pytte ; the lengere that hit boylythe, the better hit is. 

To make jelowe water ; take woode and stronge lye, 
and sethe hem togedyre, and put thereto a lytelle alome 
glas whyle hit boyleth, and whanne hit is sodyne ynoje, 
put owte the water frome the woode. 

To make blewe water ; temper the flowre of the 
woode fatte with lye ; the lesse lye, the better wolbe 
thy blewe. 

To make grene water ; take blewe and 3elowe, and 
menge hem welle togedyre. 

To make towny water; take rede, and lay hyt on 
3elowe, and let hit dry, and if thi rede be gode, thy 
towny schalbe myche the bettyr. 

To make rede lethyre that is clepyd lysyne; take 
alome glas, and dissolve hit into water, and in that 
water wasshe thy lethyre, and let hit dry, and thanne 
sethe brasylle in stondynge water, and dry hit in the 

To make lynnene clothe 3elowe ; take wyld woode, 
and sethe hit in lye, and ley thi clothe thereinne, and 
anone take hit howte, and ley hit to dry. 

To make blewe lethyre; take the juce of brasylle, 
and of saveyne, and of vertegrese, and let the leste 
parte be of brasylle, and so worche hit. 

G 2 


To make rede water ; take brasylle that flotyn, and 
put hit into an erthyne potte, with ly made of lyme, 
that hit be wesshe, and sethe hit to the halvendele ; 
and thanne asay hit, whyle hit is hoote, and thys 
wolbe a good rede. 

To make ly of lyme ; take a quantite of hote lyme 
as hit comythe fro the kylne, and put hit into a 
vesselle, and put water thereto, and a lytelle alome, 
and a lytelle swete mylke, and let hit stonde so and 
crude. Another manere ; take the uryne of a manne, 
sethe hit and scome hit into the braselle chalke, and 
let hit boyle ; thanne set hit fro the fyre, and strayne 
hit into the chalke stone, and let hit stonde so, for this 
is good. 

To cowche gold ; take gleyre and saffrone y- grownd 
togedyre, and cowche on thy gold whyle it is moyste. 

To make a blake water; take gumme galle, and 
coperose, of eche a pownd, and take a vesselle for eche 
of thyes, and put to a pownd a galone of water, and 
let heme stepe so alle a ny3te ; and afterward take a 
vesselle, and do therein thy galle and thy coperose, 
and sethe hem to halfe be wastyd, and than put thy 
gum therein, and set hit downe to that hit be colde. 

To make a rede water; take a potelle of rede 
venegre, and a 3. of brasyle, and iiij. part of a 3. of 
verm el one, and do hit into an erthyne potte to halfe 


be sodyn away, and thanne put thereto an 3. of alomc 
glas powdere, and seth hit eft-sone a lytelle, and do 
worche therewith alle hote. 

To make whyte lethyre ; take halfe an unce of whyte 
coperose, and di. 3. of alome and salle-peter the mown- 
tance of the jolke of an egge, and yf thou wolle have 
thy skynne thykke, take of whetmele ij. handfulle, 
and that is sufficiant to a galone of water ; and if thou 
wolle have thy skynne rynnyng, take of ry mele 2 
handfulle, and grynd alle thyes saltes smale, and caste 
hem into lewke warme water, and let heme melt 
togedyre, and so alle in ewene warme water put 
therein thy skynne. And if hit be a velome skynne, 
lett hit be thereinne 9 days and 9 ny3tes, and thanne 
take hit uppe, and wryng hit into the same water oft, 
and lett hyt dry in the eyre to hyt be halfe dry, and if 
hit be a perchement skyne, let hit ly thereinne 4 days 
and 4 ny3tes, and knowe welle that a perchement 
skynne that is fatt is not beste for this ocupacion, but 
yf he be thyke, he is the better ; thanne take coperase 
of the whyttest the quantite of ij. benys for j. skynne, 
and the 3olke of j. egge, and breke hit into a dysse, 
and than put water overe the fyre, and put thereinne 
thy coperas, and than put thy 3olke in thy skyne, and 
rub hit alle abowte, and thanne ley thy skynne in the 
seyde water, and let hit ly, ut dictum est. 


To dy grene threde ; do wood hit fyrste, and than 
take ly of woode asschyne, and take wold, and kyt hit, 
and a lytelle porcione of vertegrece, and a quantite of 
blake sope, and -put hit into the trede, and sethe heme 

To make lynnene clothe rede ; take alome glas, and 
brasyle, and sethe heme welle togedyre in welle water, 
and than do owte the water by hym-selfe into anothere 
vesselle, and wasshe thy clothe thereinne, and lay hit 
to dry. 

For 3elowe ; take wyld woode, and sethe hit in lye, 
and ley thy clothe there in, and anone take hit owte, 
and ley hit for to dry. 

For grene ; fyrst wasshe thy clothe in the flowre of 
woode, and thanne put hyt in 3elow juce, and dry hit. 

To make rede lassche ; Take water of suffloure, 
alome, glas, and dissolve hit into water, and in that 
water wasshe thy lethyre, and let hit dry, and sethe 
brasyle in stondynge water, and anoynte thy lethyre 
therewith ij. or iij. and let hit dry ajense the sonne. 

To gyld metalle. Take water of suffloure that is 
the fyrste leche, and salle armoniac, and grene 
coperose, and bray heme togedyre in a morter of 
brasse, and take as myche of the one as of the othere, 
and putt heme into the water of suffloure, and let hit 
stonde the space of halfe an owre, and than take the 


metalle and .make it clene, and ley thy water thereone, 
and thanne dry hit on wood coole; thanne let hit 
kele, and bornesshe hit welle. 

To gyld irene or stele ; fyle thy metalle, and schave 
hit with a grate cleve, and towche thereone with water 
of borase, and thanne ley one thy gold, and thanne 
crache hit, and burnesshe hit, etc. 

For scripture ; grynd cristalle one a marbylle stone 
to smalle powders, and temper hit with the whyte of 
an egg, and wryte therewith what thou wolte, and let 
hit dry ; and thanne rub thereone with gold, sylver, or 
coper, and hit schalle apere in scripture. 

To wryte in stele ; Take salle armoniac v. d. wyjte, 
and vytriall 9 d. wyjte, and powdere hem togedyre, 
and temper hem with pysse thyk as pappe, and take 
paynterys oyle and vermelone, and melle heme togedyre, 
and wryte therewith one stele. 

Thus 36 schal begyne to make 3our waterys bothe 
for redys and for crimesynes : 36 schalle fylle your 
lede fulle of water, and whenne 36 have put inne your 
branne, whethyr hit be ij. buschylys or iij., and 
thanne let hit boyle welle : thenne fylle hit uppe with 
colde water, and whenne thou haste fyllyd up thy lede, 
bere hit overe into a fatt, and lett hit stond ij. days or 
iij., tylle hit be rype. Thenne moste 36 bere hit overe 
into your lede afore or that 30 make ony colours a 


goode sawley with the secund parte of water, and 
thanne let hit be ny^e at boylynge or 36 temper or 
pure your alome ; and as sone as 36 have puryd your 
alome, caste in your colours that schalbe rede afore a 
prety whyle, or thy crimesons gyne ; and thanne let 
hem boyle togedyris a good owre large and more, and 
kepe the same boylynge to eftesonys, for hit most 
serve anothere tyme ry3t welle. 

Item, if 36 wolle make fyne redys^e moste take to a 
dosyne iij. pownd of alome, and to crimesons the same, 
whenne 36 boyle hem, and thanne schalle 36 make fayre 
colours and lusty in theyre maderynge in warantise. 

Item, at your maderynge 36 schalle take of the same 
wateris that 36 made, and bere hem overe into your 
lede as myche as 36 seme wolle serve 3ow ; if 36 have 
no3te y-no3e, take a kowlle fulle, or ij. or iij., or as 
mony as 36 seme wolle serve 3ow ; thenne let hit be 
but mylke-warme, whenne thou doyste in thy madere : 
when the madere is in flotte, breke hit smalle that 
there be no ballys, for to every 3erde 36 moste take a 
pownd of madere. And among hem caste in thy redys 
that thou wolt have, and thanne make a good fyre 
ondere thy lede, and loke ever that thou handy lie thy 
clothe that is in the lede tylle that the note that is in 
the lede begynne to sethe. And ever thanne amonge, 
whyle that 36 handylle, take uppe a parte, and lokc 


thereonne ; and whenne 30 seme that hit is welle, take 
hit uppe, and when hit is uppe, cole hit welle opone a 
rayle to hit be cold ; thanne moste 36 make a master- 
ynge therefore. 

Item, for the masterynge, 36 moste cast owte 5owre 
olde flote of jowre maderynge, and make a newe flote 
for 3our masterynge of clene water in your lede com- 
petently as wolle serve 3ow, and whenne hit is more 
than schalde-hote, drowe owte 3our fyre clene, and 
thanne caste in 30111- aschys in the lede, yf 36 wolle 
make a rowe masterynge. If hit be so that 36 wolle 
have a fre masterynge, caste heme in a fatte besyde, 
and temper hit with the same lycoure in 3our lede iij, 
tymes or iiij., tylle that 3our lye be stronge, and let hit 
pyche welle tylle hit be clere : thanne caste the lye into 
the lede afore the clothe, and stere hit welle togeder 
with a stafFe ; and thanne caste in thy clothe to mas- 
terynge, and handelle hyt welle with a staffe a good 
while or thou take hit up, and than by the grace of 
God 36 schalle have good redys and fyne : yf hit be so 
that 36 wolle have 3owe masteryng, 30 moste breke up 
the aschys welle with the flote afore or 36 cast in 3our 
clothe, and thanne handylle hit welle with a staffe 
abowte; and when hit is masfceryd, take hit up and 
wasche hit clene cute of the ayschys, as 36 kanne, and 
so owte of boylynge, and also of the maderynge, &c. 


Item, for crymsons, hit may not have halfe so meche 
mader as rede hathe, for hit moste be but lytylle 
y-maderyd, but halfe as meche as rede hathe of madyre 
crymson 36 schalle geve, for after hit is y-maderyd, 33 
moste korke hit, for the korke is a settynge up, and a 
masterynge, for if 36 wolle korky crymsons, 36 moste, 
after 36 have maderid hit, let make a new flote of clene 
water, and whenne hit is alle-moste at boylynge, caste 
in 3our corke, and thenne after 3our clothe, and so let 
hit boyle welle to-gederys a good longe whyle or 36 take 
hit up, and so, by Godes grace, 36 schalle make fayre 
crymsons and good. 

Item, as for vyolettys withowte wode, 36 moste make 
a kynd blake note, for to browne heme welle therein 
of aldyre ryndys, and of clene water, and boyle heme 
welle to-gedire, and so lett hit stond iij. days or iiij., 
and thanne 3our flote is made fore 3our sangweyns, and 
also for 3our viollettes, and 5our viollettes saddere 
thanne 3our morreys : and thanne 36 moste weysche 
heme oute of that ; thanne 56 moste make 3our flote 
fore 3our maderyng for 3our violettes, and 3our morreys ; 
and to a dosyne of violettes viij. pownd of madyre, and 
to a dosyn off morreys vj. li., and loke 36 madere heme 
as 36 do 3our redys, and in lyke wyse madere hem, and 
mastry heme, and thenne wesch heme oute clene 
thereof, and so 3our colouris beth y-made everyche in 
her perty, as they schold be one Avarantyse. 


Item, yf 30 wolle make crymsons withowte corke in 
clothe or wolle, 36 most browne heme in blake note 
afore the sadnese of 1 d. ob. in the same blake note, 
and after that 30 have browned hem so aftere the 
valour, 36 moste a lytille wode hit opone in the sprynge 
of the fatte, and thanne 36 moste a lytylle mader hit 
uppone, and thanne 3our crymsons beth y-made in 
warantyse withowte fayle. 

Item, yf 36 wolle make 3our lystes blewe with-owte 
wode, 36 moste a lytylle browne hit afore owte of the 
whytte, that the whitte be turned fro knowlyche, and 
woolle the same ; thanne 36 moste wasche hit owte 
clene thereoff, and 36 moste korke hyt welle, and that 
hit have korke y-no3e ; and whanne 30 have korkyd 
hyt, 36 moste wasche hit clene, and thanne 36 schalle 
have a fayre blewe withowte fayle, &c. 



Page 3, I. 14. Let be thy care. The phrase let be has been 
thought by Steevens worthy of a long note. It is of 
constant occurrence in early English. So in the 
romance of the Sowdane of Bdbyloyne, Middlehill 

Speke we now of sir Laban, 
And let Charles and Gy be. 

Page 4, 1. 8. The dore of whallus bone. The ivory which 
was made of the teeth of the walrus, is constantly 
alluded to as whale's bone, and instances of the phrase 
are all but innumerable. It seems also that ivory was 
so called long after that made from elephant's teeth 
was in common use. " As white as whale's bone" was 
the usual simile. " His wyfe as white as whales bone", 
Syr Isenbras. " A mayden as white as whales bone", 
Syr Eglamoure. " Her skin was white as whales bone 
or milk," Hawes' Pastime of Pleasure. In Skelton's 
Garlande of Laurell, Works, ed. Dyce, i. 380, is a pas- 
sage which may be compared with that in the text : 

With turkis and grossolitis enpavyd was the grounde ; 

Of birrall enbosid wer the pyllers rownde ; 

Of elephantis tethe were the palace gatis, 

Enlosenged with many goodly platis 

Of golde, entachid with many a precyous stone ; 

An hundred steppis mountyng to the halle, 

One of jasper, another of whalis bone. 



It will be observed, that elephant's teeth, as well as 
whales' bone, are mentioned in the above extract. 
Page 4, L 20. Noneste. This is a form of nonce. 
Page 6, I. ] 7. Heire. An early provincial form of year. 
The manuscript possesses several of these uncouth forms, 
the explanations of which will be readily gathered 
from the context. 

Page 8, 1. 8. Glowys. That is, gloves. Shortly afterwards 
we have cayey for coy, a very corrupt form of the word. 
Page 9. Word for world. Common in this manuscript. 
Page 10, 1. 16. Cowrs. That is, curse. 
Page 12. The reader is referred, for information respecting 
the subject of the poem here printed, to the learned ob- 
servations of Mr. Wright in his edition of Walter Mapes, 
pp. 95, 322. The present appears to be a closer version 
of the Latin of Mapes than those which are printed by 
Mr. Wright, with introductory and concluding stanzas 
not elsewhere found. It is also curious as attributing 
the vision to be that of a French hermit, who " be 
name was cleyppyd Philberte", a statement which has 
only hitherto been discovered in a MS. at Yienna, in 
which there is a copy of the Latin poem, with eight lines 
prefixed that contain the same account. He is there like- 
wise described as a king's son, filius regalis. The lines 
themselves are printed in Mr. Wright's Mapes, p. 95. 
Page 16, 1. 10. Thy hale is now of mj. feet. Hole, that is, 
hall. The Latin is merely, vix nunc tuus tumulus 
septem capit pedes. Mr. Wright quotes a parallel 
passage from the Saxon Chronicle. See Mapes, p. 96, 
and the well known passage in Henry IV, beginning, 
" When that this body did contain a spirit." 
Page 26, I. 21.. Abbay is torned to a grange. To bring an 

94 NOTES. 

abbey to a grange, a common old proverb. So in 
Skelton's Colyn Cloute, 

Howe ye brake the dedes wylles, 
Turne monasteris into water-niilles, 
Of an abbay ye make a graunge. 

Page 32, 1. 23. To. That is, two. Duo dcemones, Lat. 

Page 36, L 10. / was a kyngis sone. This refers, of course, 
to Philibert, and the whole of this addition is probably 
translated from some Latin original not now known to 
be in existence. 

Page 39. The poem here printed, of " Earth upon Earth", 
is the most complete copy known to exist. Other 
versions, varying considerably from each other, are 
preserved in MS. Seld. sup. 53 ; MS. Rawl. C. 307 ; 
MS. Rawl. Poet. 32; MS. Lambeth 853; and in the 
Thornton MS. in Lincoln Cathedral. Portions of it are 
occasionally found inscribed on the walls of churches. 

Page 43. Bi a forrest. Another copy of this poem is pre- 
served in MS. Bibl. Publ. Cantab. Ff. v. 48. The 
present is the most complete version. 

Page 44, I. 3. Rochis in MS. Raches were scenting 
hounds, and are frequently mentioned, e.g., in Arthour 
and Merlin, p. 172 : 

Thre grehoundes he ledde on hond, 
And thre raches in on bond. 

.8. / loJce alowe. This line is as follows in the 

Cambridge MS. " I loke asyde, I lurke fulle lowe". 

I. 10. So howef so howef This was the hunting cry 

used when the hare was pursued. It is again men- 
tioned in a somewhat similar poem on the hare printed 
in Turbervile's Boke of Hunting, where the animal 
thus complains : 

NOTES. 95 

But I, poore beast, whose feeding is not scene, 
Who breake no hedge, who pill no pleasant plant: 
Who stroy no fruite, who can turne up no greene, 
Who spoyle no come, to make the plowman want : 
Am yet pursued with hound, horse, might and maine 
By murdriug men, untill they have me slaine. 

' Sa haw' sayth one, as soone as he me spies ; 
Another cryes, * Now, Now,' that sees me start ; 
The hounds call on, with hydeous noyse and cryes ; 
The spurgalde jade must gallop out his part : 
The home is blowen, and many a voyce full shryll 
Do whoupe and cry, me wretched beast to kyll. 

Page 44, 1 25. Soide. " Mawe", MS. Cantab. 

Page 45, 1. II. And as a scrowe scke wyll me thret. " And 

as a swyne thei wil me bete", MS. Cantab. The 

Cambridge MS. thus concludes : 

Go bet, Wat, with Crystes curse ! 

The next tyme thou shal be take ; 
I have a hare-pype in my purse, 

That shall be set, Watte, for thi sake. 
The next tyme thou comes therin, 

Be my trowthe I the behete, 
Tho thou thorowe the hege ren, 

Thou shal be hongut be the throte ! 
Thus I droupe, I drede my deth : 

Alas ! I dye long or my day ; 
For welle and woo away it gothe, 

And this word hit wendes away. 

Page 46, 1. 13. Eyselle and galle. Eysell and gall are 
frequently mentioned together, especially in connexion 
with the well known passage in the Gospels. " Venegre 

96 NOTES. 

or eyselle" is noticed in a receipt at page 81. It is 
made synonymous with alegar, or vinegar made from 
ale, in the Forme of Cury, p. 56 ; but vinegar of any 
description appears to have passed under the name of 
eysell or ay sell. 

Page 48,7. 1. Nette. That is, neat cattle. 

Page 67, I. 4. Spryngys. Springs here seem to mean 
slips. They are, properly, the first shoots of a plant. 
" Springe or ympe that commeth out of the rote", 
Huloet's Abcedarium, 1552. 














FEW personages in modern history have received 
more notice, have been invested with a greater 
attraction, or have been spoken of with more in- 
dulgent friendship or more partial hostility, than 
the queen of France and Scotland, the fair and 
unhappy Mary Stuart. The books relating spe- 
cially to her have become numerous enough 
to form, if collected, a rather considerable li- 
brary, and now, within the last few years, (I 
speak of France only), the publication of do- 
cuments by Prince Labanoff, the Latin thesis 
for the grade of doctor by M. Cheruel, who, 
we are informed, will soon resume more at large 
and in French the same subject, the in form 
rather historical romance of M. Dargaud, and the 
excellent history by M. Mignet, are proofs that 
the interest of the subject is not exhausted, and 
that it is always possible to awaken curiosity 



and sympathy by recalling to our memory one 
who, by her death at least, seems sanctified as a 
martyr, and of whom we may still say that in 
most hearts 

" The memory is green." 

But we leave this as without our scope ; for our 
far more modest aim in this publication is not to 
renew and judge the inquiry, but only to print 
for the first time the contents of a small manuscript 
in the handwriting of the young Mary, the oldest, 
probably, of her productions which can be pro- 
duced, and which will be a quite new, although 
but a small, stone added to the monument raised 
to her by posterity. Rather unimportant in the 
historical point of view, it is so singular an in- 
stance and so true a pearl in curiosity, that Eng- 
land, since she may not have the original, may 
perhaps be glad to receive an accurate copy of it, 
which being, from the limited number of the im- 
pression, conveniently reserved to the hands of 
some fit judges and friends, it may be said, will 
not go down in the open area and meet the great 
common light too strong for its harmless inge- 
nuity. It is a delicate and superfluous ornament, 


" the very button of the cap" but good only to be 
put into learned hands, habitually conversant with 
rare books. Those only may hold it with the pious 
and interested lightness in the grasp, that will 
not crush it, as too stern a hand might do. It is 
not to be discussed, nor even used ; it is only a 
very curious and particular memorial, and the 
memorials of long deceased persons, which are in 
appearance trifling, are often the more dear and 

This little book has remained long undisturbed, 
and the more effectually was it hidden, from the 
circumstance of its being wrongly described in 
the very well known catalogue of one of the 
most important libraries in the world. For, in 
the printed catalogue of Latin manuscripts in 
the Royal, now Imperial, Library of Paris, it was 
thus entered : " vm MDCLX. Codex chartaceus, 
olim Joannis Balesdens. Ibi continentur Maria? 
Stuartae, Scotorum reginse et GalliaB delphinae, epi- 
stolae varige, Latine et Gallice. Is codex decimo 
sexto sseculo exaratus videtur." Not only is 
the last appreciation unnecessarily indefinite, for 
the precise year is, as it will be said, written in 


the manuscript, but the whole article is a blun- 
der. The book has consequently been asked for 
many times, as seeming to contain real letters, that 
is to say, historical documents ; but, as this was 
not the case, it was laid aside as useless. 

Recently, however, a French scholar, M. Lu- 
dovic Lalanne, well known by his historical pub- 
lications, happening to see this manuscript, exa- 
mined it more closely, and came to the curious 
conclusion that it was neither a correspondence, 
nor a collection or transcripts of real letters, but 
that it was what French schoolboys call a cahier 
de corrigds, the autograph transcript by Mary 
Stuart of the Latin, into which she had trans- 
lated French letters given to her as themes. 
Under these circumstances the interest of the 
manuscript was very different from that which 
it had been supposed to possess, not so great per- 
haps, but still so curious, that M. Lalanne in- 
serted a description of it, with some well selected 
extracts naturally taken from the French part, in 
the weekly Parisian paper, called V Atlieneum 
Frangais* of which he is the director, and to the 

* 1853, 33rd number, Samedi 13th August, pp. 775-7. 

readers of which the notice of this little discovery 
was particularly acceptable. Thus M. Lalanne, 
who ascertained first the true character of the 
volume, may be said to have discovered it. I owe 
to him the knowledge of the book, and I am 
pleased to have the opportunity of fully express- 
ing all my obligation to his clever article on the 
subject, without which the present publication 
would never have seen the light. 

The manuscript, written on strong paper, is an 
18mo., rather square, measuring 0.095 millimeters 
in width, by 0.139 in height, and consists of 86 
folios, numbered by a later hand. 

Its present binding, dating only from the end 
of the seventeenth century, is plain red morocco ; 
the back is ornamented with fleurs-de-lys, and 
the sides with the arms of France. The edges 
are gilt, and we will remark that, in gilding the 
edges, the binder has been careful with them ; for 
it is usual to see the letters closely written at the 
end of lines to get in an entire word, and the last 
letters are in no instance cut. It is thus certain 
that the volume has retained its original shape. On 
its garde is the present number 8660, and, on the 


first leaf numbered, the older number 6641 2 . 
Underneath the latter are these contemporaneous 
lines : " Maria D. G. Scotor. Keg. Galliae vero 
Delphina," thus evidently written after Mary's 
wedding with Francis, the first son of Henry II, 
which took place on the 4th of April, 1558, when 
she was sixteen years of age, and before the acces- 
sion of her husband to the French throne, which 
occurred on the 10th of July, 1559 ; for it was only 
during that time she could be called dauphine of 
France. Under it is the signature of Ballesdens, 
which may be seen in the fac-simile, and concern- 
ing whom it is here necessary to say a few words, 
in order to show by whose worthy hands the ma- 
nuscript was preserved. 

Jean Ballesdens was born in Paris at the end 
of the sixteenth century ; he was advocate at the 
Parliament and Council, and private secretary to 
the chancellor Pierre Seguier, who was much at- 
tached to him, and presented him for election to 
the Academic Francaise, of which he was the 
protector. At a first candidature, Ballesdens, be- 
ing in competition with the great dramatist, Pierre 
Corneille, was so just and respectful to the genius 


of his rival as to decline all pretensions against 
him. This becoming and honourable modesty 
served Ballesdens ; for he was the next elected in 
1648, in the place of the poet Claude de Malle- 
ville, one of the first founders of this literary so- 
ciety. Although Ballesdens held frequent inter- 
course with all the learned men and authors in 
his country, he wrote little himself, but, as a true 
collector of books and manuscripts for so he was, 
and many are known signed by him was rather 
an editor of the works of others, among which we 
may quote the Elogia Clarorum Virorum by Pa- 
pyrius Masson ; the theological works of Grego- 
rius Turonensis ; the deeds relating to the acqui- 
sition of the Dauphine by the crown of France ; 
many works by Savonarola ; and the Epistles of 
St. Catharine of Sienna. He died on the 27th 
of October, 1675. 

As already stated, the manuscript contains the 
French theme and the Latin translation. The Latin, 
of which the titles are written in capitals with 
abbreviations reproduced in this edition,* is all by 

* It is almost unnecessary to say that the letters S. P. D., 
frequently used in these directions, are for the words salu- 
tem plurimam dicit. 


the hand of Mary, not transcribed at once, but 
written severally and probably day by day. The 
writing, the pen, the ink, are different, although 
by the same hand, neat and clever, quite Italian 
in form, and indisputable, as it will be seen by 
comparison with the numerous fac-similes of her 
later handwriting. But it is quite different with 
the French. It is evident that the book was blank 
when given to Mary, who was to transcribe her 
themes on the recto of each leaf, but who some- 
times was so inattentive as to write on the verso. 
When the book was nearly full, the French themes 
were collected and written in their fit places by 
one hand, and perhaps at once; for the hand- 
writing is identical in all places, and it is evi- 
dently that of a manual copyist ; and, as some 
themes were lost, the leaf waiting them was left 
blank. This, as well as the character of the let- 
ters, though still gothic in their form and very 
bold, prevents the supposition that the French is 
a version by her fellow-scholar Elizabeth, from 
the Latin letters directed to her by Mary ; some 
slight differences furnish also another proof that 
this French is in fact the original theme, and not a 


version from the Latin. It is also improbable that 
we have there the hand of the preceptor ; for the 
reader will soon discover some blunders which 
show evidently the hand of a mere amanuensis. 

It would be curious to ascertain the name of 
this preceptor ; Brantome does not inform us of it 
in his article on Mary, but M. Lalanne has judi- 
ciously suggested that it is probably indicated in 
Brantome's article on Elizabeth ; she, at least during 
one year, having had the same preceptor as Mary, 
as in one of these letters written by him he addresses 
himself to the two princesses.* The name of her 
preceptor, therefore, would give the name of the 
preceptor of Mary. These are the words of Bran- 
tome, speaking of Elizabeth : " Elle avoit beau 
scavoir, comme la royne sa mere 1'avoit faicte bien 
estudier par M. de Saint Estienne, un precepteur 
qu'elle a toujours aime et respecte jusqu'a sa 
mort." Some words of the Spanish historian of 
Mary agree entirely wijh this hypothesis : " En- 
tregandolo a Catalina de Medicis, reyno de Fran- 
cia, la fue errando con el mesmo amor que si fuera 
su madre."f Yet this can only be given as a 

* See letter XLV and also letter xxu. 

t Antonio di Herrera, Historia de lo Succedido en Esco- 

supposition, with the possibility of its being au- 
thenticated or destroyed by the discovery of fur- 
ther facts. And it is very possible that the pre- 
ceptor of Mary came with her from England, when 
we bear in mind that this form of letters was 
used and perhaps traditional in England for the 
institution of royal pupils ; for the very curious 
book of Latin letters and exercises of Edward VI, 
when prince, preserved in the Harleian manu- 
scripts, No. 5087 (Catalogue, vol. iii, p. 1245), 
is in all respects a companion to Mary's themes. 

As to the turn and form of this education, it was 
naturally, in accordance with the character of 
the time, rather profane than sacred. The first 
letter is an invocation to the sacred muses, and 
the gods are as frequently cited as God. All the 
examples are taken from antiquity ; Plato, Cicero, 
and, above all, Plutarch, are the authors most fre- 
quently quoted. One modern author appears, how- 
ever, but one who had so much of an ancient in his 
spirit, that the rule is confirmed rather than broken 
by the introduction of Erasmus, of whom are cited 

cia e Iriglaterra, en quarenta y quatro anos que vivio Maria 
Estuarda, reyna di Escocia. Lisboa, 1590, in 8vo. p. 35 verso. 


three dialogues : that named Diliculum (letter 
xix) ; that (letter xxi) of the abbot and learned wo- 
man Magdalia (Abbatis et eruditce\ of which there 
was then a well known and elegant translation in 
French verses by the amiable poet Clement Ma- 
rot, and published about this time ; and the dia- 
logue of Philodoxus with Simbulus (letter xxxiv) ; 
and it is to be inferred from these quotations that 
the whole book of the Colloquia was read by 
the royal girls. 

Generally the letters are on separate subjects, 
but in one instance they form a series. It had 
been said by one of the court, probably before the 
royal girls, and by allusion, perhaps, to the turn 
of their education, that women had nothing to do 
with learning; and, by way of justification for 
himself and encouragement to his pupils, the pre- 
ceptor fills fifteen letters (xxvi XL) with the 
names of learned girls and women. His learning 
was easy ; numerous were the books on illustrious 
women, and perhaps he did not even seek so far. 
In one place (letter xxxv) he speaks of a cer- 
tain Cassandra Fidelis as praised by Politianus in 
some one of his Epistles, and when we refer to 


them, this letter of Politianus, the thirteenth in the 
third book, is found to be on the subject of learned 
women, and with the commentary of Franciscus 
Silvius in the Parisian edition of 1523, in 4to., it 
contains almost all the names used by the pre- 

But with these subjects, which are little more 
than commonplaces, these themes would have no 
more to recommend them to curiosity than the 
themes of the duke of Burgundy, with this differ- 
ence still, that St. Etienne or Mary's precep- 
tor, whoever he was, is not a stylist like Fenelon. 
Happily, and this does honour to the understand- 
ing of the former, he has given interest to his 
themes, and that for us as well as for his pupils, 
in making them real letters to living and neigh- 
bouring persons ; they have thus in them some- 
thing of the life of the times. 

The letters are in number LXIV ; two only, XLI 
and XLIV, are directed by the preceptor to Mary ; 
but the ordinary correspondent of Mary is her 
fellow-student Elizabeth, daughter to King Henry 
II, who was to be married to the melancholy 
Spanish king, Philip the Second, and in 1554 was 


nine years of age, having been born in 1545. Twice 
only Mary directs letters (ix, xi) to Claudia, an- 
other daughter of the French king, but younger, 
being born in November 1547, who married in 
1559 the duke of Lorraine, Charles the Third, 
and to whom certainly relates the childish allusion 
in letter xxn. 

By the direction of the tenth letter we learn 
the name of another fellow-student of Mary, whose 
presence is even more curious, from the circum- 
stance that this other fellow-student is not a girl 
but a boy. Unhappily the Latin form involves 
the name in a doubt, only to be removed by 
chance. I confess I cannot guess what may be in 
French the name Quarlocoius ; is it not possible 
that he was, perhaps, the son of some great Scotch 
nobleman, who came into France with his young 
queen ? I leave the question, however, to th e 
learning of the Scottish antiquaries. 

The other correspondents of Mary were her 
uncle the famous duke of Guise (letters xxm, 
xx iv), and the French dauphin, who was soon to be 
her husband. One, the xvnith. is directed to a 
man whose name it is singular to see in this place, 


to the great reformator Calvin. The letter is of 
1554, and it is curious to remark that a Latin 
edition of his book V Institution Chretienne was 
published by Robert Etienne in 1553 : as is well 
known, one part of it is occupied with the negation 
of purgatory, and the letter is precisely on this 
point. Was the letter ever sent? It is rather 
improbable. The others I speak not of those to 
Elizabeth, which were to be versions to her 
being directed to friends and relatives, who were 
curious and proud to see the progress of Mary's 
learning, were certainly sent. But the letter to 
Calvin stands in a different light. The fact of a 
letter to him from such a princess her youth also 
would have shown it was dictated to her and conse- 
quently avowed would have been too important 
to be easily admitted. It is, I think, necessary to 
reduce the question to lesser proportions, and sup- 
pose that, the book of Calvin and his opinion on 
purgatory having been spoken of before the young 
queen, the preceptor thought good to introduce 
them in his next lesson to his pupil. However, 
and whatever may be the case, it is curious to, see 
this -childish letter to Calvin, and to think how 


the same girl, when a queen, subsequently suf- 
fered from the wrath and fury of Calvin's dis- 
ciple, John Knox. 

Some names of places are written at the end of 
some letters, generally in the French part, and in- 
teresting, because we see by them the town or 
castle where the court was, and Mary with it. The 
names which occur under these circumstances are 
those of Rheims, i iv ; Compiegne, v vm,xi 
xin, xv, XVIT, xvni, xx ; Villers Cotterets, xxv 
vi ; Paris, xxxvi, xxxvm ; Saint Germain, XLI, 


For the dates, however scarce, they are not 
only curious but important, since they tell us the 
age of the young Mary when she was put to 
this discipline and occupied with these exercises. 
From them it may be ascertained that this occu- 
pation existed between the 26th July and the 9th 
January following (letters v and LXI), that is to 
say, during seven months of the life of Mary, 
of which these faded pages are the only memorial. 
For the year, nothing would have indicated it, if 
it were not positively written in four letters ; for 
we find these dates, " 25 d'aoust 1554," " 12 (Toe- 


tobre 1554," " dernier jour de cest an 1554," 
fi 5 Janvier 1554," affixed to the letters xxn, 
xxxvi, LVII, LVIII. A remark is here necessary. 
The date of the 5th January 1554, which would 
be 1555 according to the new style, is, as it was 
to be expected, written according to the old style, 
in which the year began on the 25th of March. 
But Mary, although continuing to write 1554 
after a letter dated 26th December and another 
dated the day of St. John the Evangelist after 
Christmas, that is to say, the 27th December, 
writes in the letters immediately following : the last 
day of this year 1554, using thus at the same time 
the two manners of ending the year. It is only a 
new proof, that if the ordonnance which in France 
made the year begin with January was rendered 
only by Charles the Ninth, in 1563, the use, thus 
made official and legal, was in fact already esta- 
blished. An observation curious to make, before 
leaving this date of 1554, is, that the same year is 
inscribed by Mary in her prayer-book, preserved at 
St. Petersburg, and described by Prince LabanoiF 
in the last volume of his edition of the letters of 
Mary. On one leaf of it may be read, in her 


handwriting these words : " Ce livre est a moi. 
Marie, Royne. 1554." 

One word more, and I will close this already 
too long an introduction. Much has been said on 
the early learning of Mary. The great credit 
she has received on this account will be perhaps 
a little destroyed by this publication ; for the 
reader will see her knowledge of the Latin to be 
not very sound nor firm, and some blunders are 
of such a nature as to render us somewhat incre- 
dulous as to her own knowledge at this period of 
life. The admiration, inspired by the praise be- 
stowed by Brantome on the famous Latin speech 
delivered in the French court, will be somewhat 
impaired by the thought that it was a little after 
our themes, which perhaps were given to her 
as a first preparation towards this subject, and 
show us that she was certainly not unaided in the 
composition of her speech. However, the words 
of Brantome, in his life of Mary, are worthy of 
being quoted here, because they relate to the same 
period and the same nature of ideas : 

" Pour la beaute de 1'ame, elle estoit toute pa- 
reille ; car elle s'estoit faicte fort scavante en 


bien scant aux femmes de scavoir les lettres et ars 
liberaux. Au quel endroit je diroys en quelle ad- 
miration d'un chacun. vous auries este ouye, et 
quelle esperance auroit este concue de vous par 
toute cette noble compaignie, si je le pouvois dire 
sans soubcon de flatterie. Ce que j'aime mieux 
estre tellement quellement exprime par ce vers 
d'Ovide, parlant de Germanicus Csesar, petit fils 
d'Auguste, eleg. 5 du 2 de Pont, 

" ' Quant ta bouche celeste eut ouvert ton soucy, 
L'on eut dit que les dieux souloient parler ainsi, 
Et que d'un prince estoit digne telle excellence, 
Tant avoit de douceur ta divine eloquence.' 

Que pleut a votre Majeste que j'eusse pu finer de 
cette tant elegante oraison, ou plutot de la Fran- 
^oyse traduction qu'il vous en pleut faire quelque 
terns apres ; il ne m'eust este besoin chercher si 
loing des exemples, etc." 

By this it will be seen that this speech was then 
preserved in two forms, in Latin and in French, 
and I suppose the last to have been less a transla- 
tion by Mary, than the original given to her 
by her preceptor to be by her put in Latin. 
Perhaps it exists, and owes to its commonplace 


character the fate of having remained unnoticed 
to this day. With the indication of Fouquelin it 
will be now easily recognised when met with ; but, 
as its discovery may be only accidental, I am sa- 
tisfied to leave the honour of it to more fortunate 

Paris, 31st May, 1855. 

MA- s 

./_ juta ekaw hen avud J&s 

/o / 

2 &&&& party erew ypmt&ff** ejl Leo nwfi 
4v ki 

M?& izft 

/- fcf*Jwfsit Marietta 

t f>r*jGhtoAfa#* rr'rfa* ' 

/ * 


Represents, first, the title of the theme addressed to 
Claudius Quarlocojus, p. 13 of the present edition, with 
ten examples of Mary's handwriting taken from different 
themes, namely : 

1. From theme vi, page 7. 

2. xvi, 21. 

3. xix, 23. 

4. xxiii, 29. 

5. xxiv, 31. 

6. xxix, 39. 

7. xxxviii, 49. 

8. xxxix, 51. 

9. Ivii, 71. 
10. Ixii, 77. 

Two dates from the French text, being the conclusions of 

Theme xxii, page 28, and 
Ivii, 70. 

And, lastly, the signature of J. Ballesdena. 





Puis que les Muses (comme toutes autres choses) 
prennent leur commancement de Dieu : il est raison- 
nable, que pour bien faire 1'oeuvreque je commance, mon 
entree soit de par lui, et que du tout mon entendement 
implore son aide et sa grace tres saincte. A Reims. 


CE ii'est pas asses au commancement de tes estudes, 
ma seur tres aimee, de demander Taide de Dieu: 
mais il veut que de toutes tes forces tu travailles. Car, 
ma mie, les anciains ont dit que les Dieus ne donnent 
leurs biens aus oisifs, mais les vendent par les labeurs. 
Adieu, et m'aime autant que je t'aime. A Reims. 


QUUM musee (ut caetera omnia) principium a Deo 
accipiunt, sequum est, ut bene faciam in ea re quam 
aggredior, meus prim'-" sditus sir. per eum, meusque 
animus imploret auxiliurr, et g)'3tiam Domini sanc- 



NON est satis in principle tuorum studiorum a Deo 
petere auxilium. Seel ipse vult ut totis viribus labores. 
Nam, arnica summa mea et soror, antiqui dixerunt 
Decs npn dare bona sua otiosis, sed ea vendere labo- 
ribus. Bene vale, et me, Tit amo te, ama. 

B 2 



JE vous ecrivoi hier (ma seur) que vertu vient de 
Festude des bonnes lettres, et pour ce a nous princesses 
sont-elles plus necessaires qu'aux autres. Car tout 
ainsi qu'un prince surmonte ses subiects en richesses, 
en puissance, en autorite et commandement : ainsi doit 
estre entre tous le plus grand en prudence, en conseil, 
en bonte, en grace, et toute sorte de vertu. Par quoi 
les Egyptiains ont paint un ceil au sceptre des rois, et 
disoient que nulle vertu n'est mieus seante a un prince 
que prudence. A Reims. 


Puis doncques qu'un prince doit surmonter ses subiects 
non en voluptes et delices, mais en sens, en temperance, 
et en prudence : et que son devoir et office est de 
preposer les utilites dela Republique aux siennes; il 
faut, ma seur, que mettions peine d'estre bien sages. 
Et que ne laissions aller un seul jour sans apprendre 
quelque chose. A Pexemple d' Appelles peintre, qui en 
son art a este de si grande diligence, qui ne laissoit 
passer un jour seul, au quel de son pinceau ne tirast 
quelque ligne. Adieu, et m'aime toujours bien. 
A Reims. 




SCRIBEBAM heri, dilectissima soror, quod virtus venit 
de studio bonarum literarum. Quare eaedem sunt 
magis necessariae nobis principibus quam privatis. 
Nam ut princeps subditis suis vult antecellere divitijs, 
potestate, autoritate, et imperio : sic debet inter omnes 
excellere prudentia, consilio, bonitate, gratia, et omni 
genere virtutis. Qua de re hierogliphica ^gyptiorum 
notaverunt oculum in sceptro regum, dicebant enim 
nullam virtutem magis principem decere quam pru- 



QUUM igitur princeps debet antecellere privatis non 
voluptatibus delicijsve, sed sensu, temperantia, et pru- 
dentia : et suum officium anteponere utilitatis reip. 
suis : opus est (soror omnium charissima) nos dare 
operam ut sapiamus, exemplo Appellis pictoris, qui 
tanta fuit in arte sua diligentia ut nullus praeteriret 
dies in quo non ipse lineam aliquam penicillo duxisset. 
Vale, et me ama ut soles. 



JE ne me puis assez ebahi de quoi sur les fautes 
d'autrui nous sommes plus clairs voians qu' Argus, qui 
avoit cent yeus. Mais pour voir et corriger les notres, 
nous sommes plus aveugles que la taupe. C'est de 
quoi se mocque JEsope, qui dit qu'en la besace de 
devant nous portons les vices d'autrui, et en celle qui 
pend derriere nous mettons les notres. Ne faisons 
ainsi, ma seur, car celui qui veut parler d'autrui doit 
estre sans culpe. De Compienne ce 26. Juillet. 


HIEB je lisoi une fable en ^Esope autant profitable 
que plaisante. La formis en temps d'hyver faisoit 
bonne chere du ble qu'elle avoit amasse en este, quand 
la cicade aiant grand fain vint a elle, pour lui demander 
a manger. Mais la formis lui dit, Que faisois-tu en 
este ? Je chantoi, dit-elle. Si tu chantois en este, 
repondit la formis, saulte maintenant en hyver. La 
fable signifie, ma seur, que pendant que sommes jeunes 
devons mettre peine d'apprendre des lettres et vertus 




NON possum satis mirari quod simus oculatiores in 
errores alienos quam Argus, qui habebat centum 
oculos : sed ut videamus et emendemus nostros, sumus 
caeciores talpa. Qua de re JEsopus ridebat, et dicebat 
nos ferre aliena vitia in mantica qua? dependet ad 
pectus, et in alia quse ad tergum ponimus nostra. 
Ne ita faciamus, soror dilectissima, nam qui de alijs 
vult loqui, debet esse sine culpa. Vale. 



LEGEBAM heri apud ./Esopum fabulam non minus 
utilein quam urbanam. Formica hyeme laute vivebat 
tritico quod collegerat sestate, quando cicada laborans 
fame venit ad illam, et petebat cibum. Sed formica 
dicit, Quid faciebas restate ? Cantabam, dixt. (sic). 
Si tu canebas sestate, hyeme salta. Fabula significat 
(suavissima soror) nos debere (dum iuvenes sumus) 


pour nous conduire en viellesse. A Dieu, et m'aime 
autant que tu pourras, tu pourras autant que tu 
voudras. A Compienne. 26. Juillet. 


J'AI entendu par notre maitre, ma seur ma mignonne, 
que maintenant vous estudies fort bien, de quoi je suis 
tres joieuse, et vous prie de contintier, comme pour le 
plus grand bien que sauries avoir en ce monde. 
Car ce que nous a donne nature est de peu de duree, et 
le redemandera en viellesse, ou plus tost. Ce que nous 
a preste fortune elle nous 1'ostera aussi. Mais ce que 
vertu (laquelle procede des bonnes lettres) nous donne, 
est immortel, et le garderons a jamais. A Com- 
pienne. 25. Juillet. 


CATON disoit, ma seur, que 1'entendement d'un chacun 
est semblable au fer, lequel tant plus est manie, de tant 
plus reluyt. Mais quand on le laisse en repos il devient 
rouille. Ce que tesmoigne bien Cicero au livre des 


[The end has never been written.'] 


M. SC. R. EL. SOliOKI S. P. D. 

AUDIVI a nostro prseceptore, soror integerrima, te 
studere optime, ex quo gaudeo, et te deprecor ut sic 
pergas, nam estexcellentissimum bonum quod iposisfsicj 
habere. Quod enim natura dedit, parum durat, et 
repetet in senectute vel prius. Quod mutuo dedit 
fortuna deponet etiam. Sed quod virtus, quae pro- 
cedit a bonarum literarum lectione, donat, est immor- 
tale et nostrum semper erit. Vale. 



CATO ingenium uniuscuiusque dicebat, soror, ferro 
esse simile, quod usu splendescit, at in otio rubigine 
obducitur : id quod Cicero testatur in libro de claris 
oratoribus, quando dicit se singulis diebus scribere 


Orateurs illustres, quand il dit que tons les jours ou il 
ecrivoit quelque chose, ou il declamoit en Grec, ou en 
Latin. Et d'avantage, croies, ma seur, qu'oisivete estla 
mere de tous vices. Par quoi il nous faut a toutes 
heures exercer notre esprit en erudition ou en vertu. 
Car Pexercer en choses vainnes et mechantes, ce n'est 
Texercer mais le corrompre. A Compienne 28. Juil- 


Ce n'est pas sans cause, mes seurs tres aimees, que la 
roine nous commandoit hier de faire ce que nous 
diront noz gouvernantes. Car Cicero dit, tout au com- 
mancement du second livre des Lois, que celui qui scait 
bien commander a autresfois obei. Et que quicunque 
modestement obeit est digne de commander une fois. 
Plutarque, auteur digne de foi, a dit que les vertus 
s'apprennent par preceptes aussi bien que les arts. 
Et use de cet argument. Les homines apprennent a 
chanter, a sauter, les lettres aussi, a laborer la terre, a 
se tenir a cheval, a se chausser, a se vestir, a faire 
cuisine. Et penserons-nous que vaincre ses affections, 
commander en une Rep. (chose entre toutes tres difficile), 
bien conduire une armee, mener bonne vie, penserons- 


aliquid vel declamare graece vel latine. Prseterea 
crede mihi, soror, otium esse matrem omnium vitiorum. 
Quapropter opus est omnibus horis exercere ingenium 
nostrum eruditione . vel virtute, nam exercere rebus 
vanis aut flagitiosis hoc non exercere est sed corrum- 
pere. Vale. 5. Cal. August!. 



NON abs re (suavissimse sorores) regina jubebat heri 
nobis facere id quod gubernatrices dicent. Nam Cicero 
sic ait in principio secundi libri de le gibus. Ille qui 
bene scit imperare, aliquando obedivit, et qui modeste 
obedit est dignus imperare aliquando. Plutarchus autor 
locuples ait virtutes discendas esse prseceptis ut alise 
artes, et utitur illo argumento. Homines discunt can- 
tare, saltare, literas, colere terram, equo insidere, 
calceari, vestiri, et coquere : et nos credemus vincere 
vluptates (sicj, imperare reipublicse (quse res inter 
onmes difficilima est) ducere exercitum, instituere 
vitam, credemus, inquam, id e venire fortuito? Ne 
hoc credamus, sed discamus, obediamus hoc tempore, 


nous, di-ie, que cela advienne par fortune ? Ne le 
croions point, mais apprenons, obeissons maintenant, 
afin de scavoir commander, quand serons venues en 
age. 29 Juillet. 


POUR quelques vertus, scavoir, ou autres graces que tu 
aies, ne t'en glorifie point, mais plus tost donnes en 
louange a Dieu qui seul est cause de ce bien. Ne te 
mocque de personne, mais pense que ce qui advient a 
un, il peut advenir a chacun. Et, comme ja je t'ai dit, 
ren graces a Dieu de quoi il t'a mis hors de tel povre 
sort, et prie que telle chose ne t'avienne, et aide a 
1'affiige si tu puis. Car si tu es misericordieus aus 
homines, tu obtiendras misericorde de Dieu. Au quel 
je prie vouloir favoriser a toutes tes entreprinses. 
1 jour d'Aoust. 


LE meilleur heritage qui peut estre delaisse aux enfans 
desbons parens, c'est la voie de vertu, et la connoissance 


ut sciamus imperare cum pervenerimus ad maiorem 
oetatem. Bene valete. 3. Cal. August!. 



QUIBUSCTTNQUE virtutibus, sapientia, eruditione, et aliis 
gratiis praeditus sis, ne gloriare, sed potius da gloriam 
Deo qui solus caussa est tanti boni. Neminem irri- 
deto irrideto (sicj, sed puta quod evenit uni posse 
accidere omnibus. Et, ut jam dixi tibi, age gratias 
Deo omnipotenti quod te posuerit extra sortem tarn 
miseram et precare ut talis res non tibi eveniat. Sub- 
veni afflicto si possis, nam si tu fueris misericors aliis, 
consequeris misericordiam adeo (sic, pro a Deo), quern 
deprecor ut faveat omnibus tuis coeptis. Vale. 



OPTIMA hereditas quae potest relinqui liberis a bonis 
parentibus est via virtutis, cognitio plurium artium, 


de plusieurs arts, et sciences. Les quelles choses, 
selon la sentence de Ciceron, valent mieux que le plus 
riche patrimoine. Par quoi je ne sauroi asses louer la 
prudence du roy et de la royne, qu'ils veullent que 
notre jeune age soit imbut et de bonnes meurs et de 
lettres, suivant 1' opinion de plusieurs sages, qui n'ont 
tant estime bien n'aistre, (sic, for naistre), que bien 
estre institue. Dont, mes seurs, de notre coste, faisons 
nostre devoir. A Compienne. 7. jour d'Aoust. 


FOTJK ce que la vraie amitie, de la quelle je vous aime 
plus que moi-mesme, me commande que tout le bien 
qu'aurai jamais sera commun entre nous, ma seur, je 
vous vueil bien faire participante d'une belle similitude 
que je leu hier en Plutarque. Tout ainsi, dit-il, que 
qui empoisonne une fontaine publique, de laquelle 
ehacun boit, n'est digne d'un seul supplice : ainsi est 
tres malheureus et mechant qui gaste 1'esprit d'un 
prince, et qui ne lui corrige ses mauvaises opinions, 
qui redonderont a la perte de tant de peuple. Par quoi, 
ma seur, il nous faut ouir et obeir a ceux qui nous 
remontrent. De Compienne. 8. d'Aoust. 


atque scientia. Quse res (ut sententia Cicseronis tes- 
tatur) est melior ornni patrimonio. Unde non possum 
satis laudare prudentiam regis reginaeque nostrse, qui 
volunt hanc nostram rudem setatem imbui bonis mori- 
bus et literis : sequuti opinionem plurimomm homi- 
num sapientum, qui prseclarius duxerunt bene institui 
quam bene nasci. Quare quantum ad nos attinet, 
fungamur nostro officio. Valete. 

M. SC. R. EL. SORORI 8. D. P. 

QUUM vera amicitia qua te ante me amo, soror, imperet 
mihi ut omne bonum quod unquam habebo sit inter 
nos commune, volo te facere participem pulcherrimae 
similitudinis quam heri legebam apud Plutarchum. 
Nam, inquit ille, quemadmodum qui inficit veneno 
fontem publicum, de quo omnes bibunt, non est dignus 
solo supplicio, ita ille est infelicissimus et nocentissimus 
qui inficit animum principis et qui non emendat malas 
opiniones quae redundent in perniciem multorum. 
Quare, soror, oportet nos obedire iis qui nos corripiunt. 



C'EST pour vous inciter a lire Plutarque, ma mie, et 
ma bonne seur, que si sou vent en mes epitrcs je fai 
mension de lui. Car c'est un philosophe digne de la 
Ie9on d'un prince. Mais oies qu'il adioute an propos 
que je vous tenoi hier. Si, dit-il, celui qui gaste et 
contrefait la monnoie du prince est puni, combien est 
plus digne de supplice qui corrout 1'entendement d'i- 
celui? Car, ma seur, quels sont les princes en la 
Rep., disoit Platon, tels ont accoutume d'estre les 
citoiains. Et pensoit les Rep. estre bien heureuses, 
qui etoient gouvernees par princes, et doctes, et sages. 
De Compienne, 9. d'Aoust. 


LA vraie grandeur et excellence du prince, ma tres 
aimee seur, n'est en dignite, en or, en pourpre, en 
pierreries, et autres pompes de fortune : mais en 
prudence, en vertu, en sapience, et en scavoir. Et 
d'autant que le prince veut estre different a son peuple 
d' habit, et de fa^on de vivre, d'autant doit-il estre 
eloigne des folles opinions du vulgaire. Adieu, et 
m'aimes autant que vous pourres. 10 d'Aoust. 



M. R. S. EL. SORORI S. P. t>. 

QUUM tarn saepe facio mentionem Plutarchi, arnica 
summa mea et soror, in meis epistolis, hoc facio ut 
ad hunc legendum te incitem. Nam est philosophus 
dignus lectione principis. Sed audi quomodo perficit 
propositum quod heri scribebam ad te : Si is qui 
viciat monetam principis punitur, quantopere ille est 
dignior supplicio qui corrumpit ingenium ejus. Pro- 
fecto quales sunt principes in Rep. dicebat Plato, tales 
solent esse cives, et Resp. felicissirnas putabat si a 
doctis et sapientibus principibus regerentur. Vale. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

VERA principis majestas non est in amplitudine, in 
dignitate, auro, purpura, gemmis et aliis pompis for- 
tunae : sed in prudentia, sapientia et eruditione. Verum 
quantopere princeps vult abesse ab habitu et victu 
plebeio, tantopere ille debet etiam abesse a sordidis 
opinionibus et stul[ti]tiis vulgi. Vale et me ama quan- 
tum poteris. 



POUR toujours, selon macoutume, vousfaire participante 
de mes bonnes lemons, je vous vueil bien dire comme 
j'apprenoi devant Her que le prince ne doit vanter 
les armes, et autres enseignes de noblesse qu'il a de ses 
parens : mais plus tost doit suivre et exprimer les 
vertus et bonnes meurs d'iceulx. Car, ma seur, la vraie 
noblesse c'est vertu. Et le second poinct que doit 
avoir le prince, c'est qui soit instruict de la connoissance 
des arts et sciences. Le tiers, et qui est le moindre, 
qui soit orne des paintures et armes de ses pre- 
decesseurs. Et de cettui nous sommes asses ornees. 
Efforceons-nous done d' avoir le premier. Adieu. De 
Compienne. 13. d'Aoust. 


JE lisoi anjourdhui, ma seur, que Platon appelloit les 
princes gardes de la Rep. Et dit qu'il faut qu'ils 
soient a leurs pa'is ce que les chiens sont au troppeau. 
Et appelle le prince cruel et tyrant, lion. Sainct Paul 
parlant de Neron 1' appelloit ainsi. Je suis, disoit-il, 
delivre de la bouche du lion. Le sage Salomon a 



M. R. SO. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

UT semper more meo faciam te participem lectionum 
mearum, ecce discebam nudius tertius quod princeps 
non debet jactare stemata et imagines nobilitatis quae 
habet a suis parentibus, sed potius debet sequi et ex- 
primere virtutes et bonos mores illorum. Nam vera 
nobilitas est virtus, turn debet instruct us esse princeps 
cognitione disciplinarum, et, quod minus est, ornatus 
picturis et stemmatibus majorum quibus, soror, satis 
sumus ornatae. Vale. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

LEGEBAM hodie, soror, quod Plato appellabat prin- 
cipes custodes Reip., dicens eos oportere patriae esse 
quid canes gregi. Quod si canes vertuntur in lupos, 
quid sperandum est de grege ? Turn vocat principem 
crudelem et tyrannum, leonem. Divus Paulus loquens 
de Nerone ita etiam appellabat. Liberatus sum, dixit, 

c 2 


semblablement ainsi depeint le prince tyrant, disant : 
Le prince mauvais sur son povre peuple est un lion 
rugissant et un ours affame. Apprenons done main- 
tenant les vertus, ma seur, lesquelles nous rendront 
chiens fideles a nos troppeaus, et non loups, ni ours, 
ni lions. Mon maitre m'a dit que vous trouves mal, je 
vous irai tantost voir. Ce pendant je vous di adieu. 
14. d'Aoust. 


Si en notre jeune age nous apprenons les vertus, ma 
seur, ainsi que je vous ecrivoi hier, le peuple ne nous 
appellera jamais loups ni ours, ni lions, mais nous 
honorera, et aimera comme les enfans ont coutume 
aimer les peres et meres. Le propre d'un bon prince 
est ne blecer personne, profiter a tons, mesmement 
aux siens. Et que cette vois tyrannique soit loin de 
son entendement. Je le vueil ainsi, je le commande 
ainsi, et pour toute raison ma volonte soit. Car, ma 
seur, cette vois est vraie qui ja est allee en proverbe, 
ils haient quand ils craignent. A Dieu. Ce 17. d'Aoust. 
A Compienne. 


de ore leouis. Sapiens ille Solomon ad hunc modum 
depinxit tyrannum principem. Impius princeps, inquit, 
super pauperem populum est leo rugiens et ursus 
esuriens. Nunc igitur discamus, soror, virtutes omnes, 
quse nos efficient canes fideles nostris gregibus, non 
lupos, non ursos, neque leones. Praeceptor meus dixit 
mini te laborare ventre, ego statim te visam. Cura 
interim ut bene valeas. 


M. SC. K. EL. SOKOEI S. P. D. 

Si in hac nostra juventa aetate didiscerimus virtutem, 
ut heri dicebam, nunquam populus nos appellabit lupos, 
ursos, neque leones, sed nos amabit et colet ut pueri 
solent amare parentes. Proprium boni principis est 
ledere neminem, omnibus praesertim suis, Denique 
vox ilia tyrannica absit ab animo principis, 

Sic volo, sic iubeo, sit pro ratione voluntas. 

Est enim ista vox vera quse iam abijt in proverbium, 
Oderint dum metuunt. Bene vale, suauissima soror. 



SOCRATES disoit qu'il i avoit deus voies par lesquelles 
les espris sortent du corps. Car ceus qui se sont 
gardes chastes et entiers, et qui aus corps humains 
ont ensuivi la vie des Dieus, ils retornent facilement a 
eus. Et ceus qui se sont du tout souilles de vices, ont 
un chemin detorne du conseil, et de la presence des 
Dieus. Mais les espris de ceus qui se sont quasi fais 
serviteurs des voluptes, et non toutesfois du tout, sont 
long temps a errer par la terre avant que de retorner au 
ciel. Tu vois done que Socrates, Platon, et plusieurs 
autres philosophes ethniques, ont eu cognoissance du 
purgatoire que toi, doue de la loi de grace, miserable- 
ment et a ta perte tu nies. Jesuchrist le fils de Dieu te 
vueille rapeller, Calvin. De Compienne. 18. d'Aoust. 


Vous ebahisses, ma seur, pour quoi je sorti hier de la 
chambre de la Royne, veu qu'il estoit dimenche, pour 
aller en mon estude. Croies que depuis deux jours je 
li un colloque d'Erasme qu'il appelle Diluculum, tant 
beau, tant joieus, et tant utile que rien plus. He 




SOCRATES dicebat duplices esse vias quibus animi 
exeunt e corpore. Nam illi qui se seruarunt castos et 
integros et qui in corporibus humanis imitati simt 
vitam deorum redeunt facile ad eos. Illi vero qui se 
totos contaminarunt vitiis habent viam seclusam a 
consilio et prsesentia deorum. Sed eorum animi qui 
se praebuerunt quasi ministros voluptatum, et non 
tamen omnino, diu errant circa terram antequam rede- 
ant in ccelum. Tu vides ergo quod Socrates et Plato 
et plures alij philosophi ethnici habent notitiam pur- 
gatorii, quod tu misere et tuo damno negas, cum sis 
dotatus lege gratise. Christus filius Dei te auocet, 
Calvine, interim cura ut recte et pie sapias. 



MIEARI, soror, cur egressa sum heri cubiculo Reginae, 
quum esset dominicus dies, ut discederem in musaeolum 
meum. Crede mihi, lego abhinc duobus diebus dia- 
logum Erasmi, quern Diluculum appellat, certe adeo 
pulcherrimum, adeo laatum, et utilem ut nihil supra. 


Dieu, comme il tanse ceux qui dorment si tard, et font 
si pen de cas de perdre le temps, qui entre toute chose 
est la plus precieuse. Davantage le latin i est si 
facile, et si elegant, qui n'est possible d'estre plus 
poli. Je le vous expliquerai aujourdhui si j'ai loisir. 
Adieu. Ce 20. d'Aoust. 


PLTJTARQTJE dit que la colere et la mauvaitie est 
plus dangereuse en un prince qu'en une personne 
privee : d'autant que le prince a puissance de beaucoup 
oflencer et 1'autre non. Et pour ce a bon droict 
requiert il doctrine et prudence en un prince. Car 
comme disoit Bias, Pun des sept sages de Grece, 
1'ceuvre du sage est (combien qui soit offence) de ne 
nuire a personne, encores qu'il en ait la puissance. En 
quoi il ensuit la bonte de Dieu, lequel ne fait rien si 
souvent ni si volontiers que de pardonner. A Com- 
pienne, 23. d'Aoust. 


Proh Juppiter, ut animadvertit in eos qui dormiunt in 
tantam lucem, non curantes perdere tempus quod in 
re praeciosissima praeciosissimum est. Preeterea sermo 
latinus adeo purus, et elegans est, ut politior esse non 
possit. Explicabo tibi hodie si licuerit per otium. 
Vale. 20. Aug. 


M. SC. B. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

PLTJTAKCUS dicit iram et malitiam esse in principe 
periculosiorem, quam in priuatis. Nam princeps po- 
test plurimura offendere, alter vero minime. Qua- 
propter requirit doctrinam et prudentiam in principe. 
Nam quomodo dicebat Bias, unus septem sapientum 
Grseciae, opus sapientis est (quamuis offensus sit)nocere 
nemini etiam si possit. Qua in re sequitur bonitatem 
Dei qui nihil saepius facit, nee libentius quam parcere. 
Bene vale. 



JE croi, ma seur, le diet de Magdalia, que lisions hier 
en Erasme, estre tres veritable, a scavoir, nul ne 
pouvoit vivre suavement, si ne vit bien. Aussi 
mettoit Bias le souverain bien en la vertu de 1' esprit, 
et la plus g[r]ande misere en vice et en la malice des 
hommes. Car, comme dit Cicero au livre de viellesse, la 
souvenance de plusieurs beaus actes est tres plaisante ; 
et an contraire, comme tesmoigne le sage en ses pro- 
verbes, crainte est touiours avec ceus qui font mal. 
Et Plaute dit que rien n'est si miserable que 1'esprit 
qui se sent coulpable de quelque mal faict. Pour ce, 
ma seur, sur toute chose estudions a Vertu. 24. d'Aoust. 


QUAND hier au soir mon maitre vous prioit de re- 
prendre votre seur, de quoi elle vouloit boire se 
voulant mettre au lict : vous lui repondistes que vous 
mesme voulies boire aussi. Voies done, ma seur, 
quelles nous devons estre qui sommes Texemple du 
peuple. Et comme oserons-nous reprendre les autres, 
si nous mesme ne sommes sans faute ? II faut qu'un 



M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

CREDO ego, soror suavissima, sententiam Magdaliae 
quam legebamus heri apud Erasmum esse verissimam, 
neminem posse viuere suauiter nisi bene viuat. Quare 
Bias ponebat summum bonum in solo animi virtute set 
maiorem et miseriam (szc) in vitiis et malitia hominis. 
Nam, ut Cicero ait in libro de senectute, imiltorum acto- 
rum recordatio jucundissima est, contra, ut sapiens tes- 
tatur in prouerbiis, Pauor est iis qui operantur malum. 
Et Plautus dicit nihil esse miserius quam animus sibi 
conscius. Quse cum ita sint, soror, studeamus virtuti. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

QUUM heri sero meus praeceptor te deprecabatur ut 
reprehenderes sororem tuam quod vellet bibere volens 
discedere cubitum, respondisti te non audere, quia 
ipsa volebas potare. Vide ergo, soror, quales nos 
debemus esse quae sumus exemplum populo quomodo 
igitur audebimus alios emendare nisi sine errore 
fuerimus. Oportet bonum principem vivere ad hunc 


bon prince vive de sorte que les plus grands et les 
plus petis prennent exemple de ses vertus. Qui face 
qu'en sa maison il ne puisse estre reprins de personne. 
Et que dehors ne soit veu que faisant, ou pensant chose 
pour 1'utilite publique. Et doit avoir grand cure que 
sa parole ne sente rien que vertu. Soions done du 
tout adonnees aus bonnes lettres, ma seur, et il en pren- 
dra bien a nous et a nos sujets. A Dieu. De Com- 
pienne, 25. d'Aoust. 1554. 


CARNEADES disoit, que les enfans des Hois n'appren- 
oient rien bien qu'a picquer un cheval : pour ce qu'en 
toutes autres choses chacun les flatte. Mais le cheval, 
par ce que n' en tend si c'est un povre ou un riche qui 
est sur lui, un prince ou une personne privee, il jecte 
bas quicunque ne se scait bien tenir. Et maintenant 
encore voit-on ceci estre faict en beaucoup d'endroicts. 
Car ni les nourrices seullement, ni les compagnons ou 
serviteurs des princes les flattent, mais aussi et le 
gouverneur, et le precepteur, ne regardant a ce qu'ils 
laissent le prince meilleur, mais qu'ils s'en allent bien 
riches. O chose miserable, et la cause que tant le 
povre peuple souffre, c'est que les princes ne sont bien 
apprins. Qui me fait vous prier, mon oncle, de re- 
commander tousjours ma jeunesse a ceux qui plus 
aiment la vertu que les biens. 26. d'Aoust. 


modum ut maiores et minores omnes ab eo capere pos- 
sint exemplum virtu tis. Sic faciat domi ut a nemine 
possit reprehendi. Et non videatur foris nisi faciens 
vel cogitans publicam utilitatem. Turn debet curare 
maxime ut sermo illius nihil sapiat nisi virtutem. Id 
quod non potest fieri sine doctrina. Simus ergo 
omnino deditae bonis literis, soror, et prseclare nobis- 
cum et subditis agetur. Vale. 



CARNEADES dicebat, spectatissime avuncule, liberos 
Regum nihil recte discere prseter artem equitandi, quia 
in omnibus rebus unusquisque illis assentatur. Sed 
eequs, quia non inteligit si sit pauper vel dives qui 
insidet, princeps an privatus, excutit a tergo quicunque 
non bene. insiderit. Nunc etiam hoc videmus fieri 
multis in locis ; nam nee nutrices solum nee comites et 
ministri principum adulantur illis, sed etiam modera- 
tores et praeceptores : non advertentes si relinquant 
principem meliorem, modo illi abeant locupletiores. 
O rem miserrimam. Ea certe causa est cur subditi 
omnes patiantur, nam principes non emendantur. 
Quare te deprecor, mi avuncule, ut me semper com- 
mendes ijs qui ante divitias virtutem amant. Vale. 



LA cause pour quoi tant de gens errent aujourdhui en 
1'ecriture saincte c'est qui ne la manient avec un cueur 
pur et net. Car Dieu ne donne 1'intelligence de ses 
secres, si non aux innocens et gens de bien. Et n'est 
facile a tous de conoitre que c'est que de Dieu, comme 
mieux le scaves que moi. J'ai leu que Simonides, 
interrogue de Hiero quel estoit Dieu, et que c'estoit de 
lui, demanda un jour pour en repondre, et quand le 
lendemain lui demanda reponce, il demanda de rechef 
deus jours. Mais quand toujours redoubloit le temps, 
et que Hiero lui demandoit pourquoi il faisoit cela, 
pour ce (dit-il) que de tant plus j'i pense, tant plus la 
chose me semble difficile et obscure. 29. d'Aoust. 


J'AI entendu, ma seur, qu'hier a votre lecon vous 
fustes opiniatre. Vous aves promis de ne le plus 
estre; je vous prie laisser cette coutume. Et penser 
que quand la princesse prend le livre entre ses mains, 
elle le doit prendre non pour se delecter seulement, 
mais pour s'en retorner meilleure de la Ie9on. Et la 




MTJLTI homines errant his temporibus in scriptura 
sancta, mi avuncule, quod earn non legunt puro corde 
et mundo. Nam Deus non dat intellectum arcanorum 
suorum nisi innocentibus. Nee facile est omnibus 
Deum cognoscere, ut tu melius quam ego scis. Legi 
quod Simonides interrogatus ab Hierone quis esset 
Deus, postulavit unum diem ut responderet. Et quando 
postridie quaeret idem, petiit iterum duos dies. Quum- 
que ssepius duplicaret numerum dierum petijt Hiero 
cur id faceret. Quia, inquit, quanto diutius cogito, 
tanto res est mihi obscurior. Vale. 3. Cal. Sept. 


M. SC. R. ELI. SOROEI 8. P. D. 

INTELLEXI, soror, quod heri in tua lectione fuisti 
pertinax. Promisisti te non amplius esse. Te de- 
precor ut relinquas istam consuetudinem, et cogites 
quod quum princeps accipit librum, sumere debet non 
solum ut delectetur, sed ut discedat melior a lectione, 
et major pars bonitatis est velle bonum fieri, quod 


plus grande partie de la bonte est vouloir le bien estre 
fait. Que si vous le voules, certainement vous le 
poves, et a fin que bien tost aies 1'esprit digne de 
princesse, penses que ceux qui vous reprennent, et 
amonestent librement, sont ceus qui vous aiment le 
plus. Pour quoi acoutumes vous a ceus la, et les 
aimes aussi. A Villiers Cotterets. 8. de Septembre. 


A FIN que puissies repondre a ces beaus deviseurs qui 
disoient hier que c'est affaire aus femmes a ne rien 
scavoir: je vous vueil bien dire, ma seur, qu'une 
femme de votre nom a este si scavante qu'elle leur cut 
bien repondu si elle i eut este. C'est Elizabet 
abbesse d'Allemaigne, laquelle a ecrit beaucoup de 
belles oraisons aus seurs de son couvent, et un oeuvre 
des chemins par lesquels on va a Dieu. Themistoclea, 
seur de Pythagoras, estoit si docte, qu'en plusieurs 
lieus il a use des opinions d'icelles. Et afin que vous 
aies de quoi satisfaire a tels messieurs, je vous en 
apprendrai un grand nombre d'autres. Adieu, et 
celle qui vous aime, ma seur, aimes la beaucoup aussi. 
A Villiers Cotterets. 10. de Septembre. 


si tu vis, certe potes. Turn ut statim habeas animum 
principe dignum cogita illos qui recognoscunt et emen- 
dant errata tua et libere te decent esse qui te plurimum 
amant. Quare et illos assuescito amare. Vale. 


1. SC. E. EL. SORORI S. P. D, 

UT possis respondere bellis istis blateronibus qui heri 
dicebant esse foeminarum nihil sapere. Volo tibi 
dicere, soror, foeminam tui nominis adeo sapientem 
fuisse ut bene respondisset illis si adfuisset. Est 
Elizabeta abbatissa Germanica, quse scripsit plures 
orationes ad sorores sui conventus, et opus de vijs 
quibus itur ad superos. Themistoclea soror Pytha- 
gorae ita docta erat, ut pluribus in locis usus sit illius 
opinionibus. Et ut habeas unde satisfacias ijs homun- 
culis, te docebo magnum alliarum numerum. Vale, et 
illam quae te plurimum amat, soror, ama. Vale iterum. 
10. Sept. 



VOTJS dires encores a ces babillars qu'il i a eu trois 
Corrinnes tres doctes, des quelles celle qui estoit de 
Thebes a ecrit cinq livres d'epigrammes, et cinq fois 
vainquit Pindare, prince de poetes lyriques. Erinne 
en langtie dorique composa un poeme de trois cents 
vers, et beaucoup d'autres epigrammes. Et disent que 
ses carmes approchoient de la gravite, et majeste 
d'Homere. Elle fut morte en 1'age de .19. ans. Sappho 
a este admirable en tout genre de carmes. Polla, 
comme on dit, femme de Lucain, a este de si grande 
doctrine, qu'elle a aide a son mari a corriger les trois 
premiers livres de Pharsale. Aspasia a enseigne la 
rhetorique, et a este maitresse de Pericles, et sa femme. 
Je vous en nommerai demain plusieurs autres. Adieu. 
11. de Septembre. 


CLEOBTTLINE, fille de Cleobule, qui fut un des sept sages 
de Grece, a ecrit beaucoup de beaus enigmes en 
vers exametres. Cornificia, seur de Cornificius, poete, 
a fait des epigrammes tres elegans. Cornelie, femme 



M. SO. B. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

DICES adhuc illis homunculis futilibus tres fuisse 
Corinnas doctissimas, quarum quse erat Th'ebana scrip- 
sit quinque libros epigrammatum, et vicit quinquies 
Pindarum principem poetarum lyricorum. Erinna 
lingua Dorica composuit poema trecentis versibus et 
alia epigrammata. Et ferunt quod illius carmina 
accedebant ad gravitatem Homeri. Mortua est annos 
nata 19. Sappho fuit admirabilis in omnibus generibus 
carminum. Polla, ut aiunt, uxor Lucani, fuit tanta 
doctrina ut adiuverit maritum in coripiendis tribus 
primis libris Pharsaliae. Aspasia docuit rhetoricen, 
fuit magistra Periclis, et tandem uxor. Cras numerabo 
alias quam plurimas. Vale. 11. Septemb. 


M. SC. B. EL. SOBORI S. P. D. 

CLEOBTTLINA, filia Clcobuli, qui fuit unus septem 
sapientum Greeciae, scripsit plura pulcra eenigmata 
versibus exametris. Cornificia, soror Cornificij poetae, 
composuit epigrammata elegantissima. Cornelia, uxor 

D 2 


de FAfricain et mere des Gracchiains, a laisse des 
epitres bien latinement ecrites, et d'elle est sortie 
1'eloquence de ses enfans. La fille de Lselius en par- 
lant exprimoit 1'eloquence de son pere ; et 1'oraison 
de la fille d'Hortense qu'elle fit devant les triumvirs, 
temoigne qu'elle estoit tres eloquente. Retenes dili- 
gemment toutes celles que je vous nomine, afin de povoir 
repondre a tous ceus qui tant meprisent notre sexe, 
disant n'estre affaire aus femmes d'apprendre la langue 


Vous leur dires encores (ma seur) qu'Anastase, dis- 
ciple de Chrysogone martyr, a este et bien docte et bien 
saincte. Elle fut brulee pour ce qu'elle ministroit 
aus saincts. Damophila, grecque, ecrivit les louanges 
de Diane et quelques poesies d'amours. Hypathia, 
femme du philosophe Isidore, a compose de 1'astro- 
nomie, et a montre en Alexandrie plusieurs disciplines 
d'une si grande dexterite d' esprit, que les echoliers 
venoient a elle de tous costes. Leontia, fillette grecque, 
a tant poursuit les disciplines de philosophic, qu'elle 
n'a redoute avec une grande louange ecrire centre 
Theophraste philosophe tres renomme. Praxilla a 


African! et mater Gracchorum, reliquit epistolas latine 
scriptas, et ab ilia effluxit eloquentia filiorum. Filia 
Laelij exprimebat loquendo eloquentiam patris. Et 
oratio Hortensiae, Hortensij filiae, quam habuit ante 
triumviros, testatur quod erat elegantissima. Manda 
memoriae diligenter omnes quas numerabo, ut possis 
respondere ijs, qui spernunt nostrum sexum, quique 
dicunt non esse officium foeminae discere linguam la- 
tinam. Vale. 12. Septem. 


M. SC. K. EL. SOROE.I S. P. D. 

ILL,IS itaque dices, soror, quod Anastasia, discipula 
Chrysogoni martyris, fuit multum et docta et pia. 
Cremata est quia ministrabat sanctis. Damophila 
Graeca scripsit laudes Dianae et quaedam poematse amoris. 
Hypathia, uxor philosophi Isidori, composuit in astro- 
nomiam et docuit in Alexandria plures disciplinas 
tanta dexteritate ingenij ut discipuli avvolabant undique 
ad illam. Leontia, puela graeca, adeo prosecuta est 
disciplinas philosophicas ut non dubitaverit cum magna 
laude scribere in Theophrastum philosophum optimum. 
Praxilla excelluit multum in omne arte poetica. Quia 


grandement triumphe en poesie. Pour ce que vous 
estes malade, je ne ferai ma lettre plus longue. 
Demain je poursuivrai mon propos. A Dieu. 13. Sept. 


PHEMONOE est du nombre de ces doctes et sages 
femmes. Sosipatra a este poete, et pleine de tant de 
disciplines, qu'on pensoit qu'elle eut este nourrie de 
quelques dieus. Theano fut une femme excellente 
en vers lyriques. Une autre de ce mesme nom a este 
femme pythagoriaine, laquelle a ecrit en philosophic 
des commentaires de vertu, et des poesies et apoph- 
thegmes aussi. Zenobia, royne des Palmyriains, a 
este scavante en la langue grecque et egiptienne, et 
non ignorante en la latine. Elle a enseigne les lettres 
a deus enfans qu'elle avoit. Et souvent fait des 
oraisons a ses gendarmes lesquelles aiant I'armet en 
teste elle recitoit. Alpaides, vierge, a este si amie 
de la religion, qu'elle a du ciel merite comprendre le 
sens de la Bible, et de 1'ecriture saincte. C'est aujourd'- 
hui la feste de la ste crois, en laquelle pour nostre 
salut a pendu 1'eternel Jesuschrist fils du Dieu eternel. 
Je voi au pare pour un petit recreer mon entendement, 
qui est cause que je fai ici fin. 


aegrotas non faciam meas literas longiores. Cras 
sequar meum institutum. Vale. 13. Septembris. 


M. SC. E. EL. SOROKI S. P. B. 

PHEMONOE ascribitur numero istarum doctarum et 
sapientum foeminarum. Sosipatra fuit vates et plena 
tantis disciplinas (sic), ut crediderint omnes earn fuisse 
educatam a quibusdam numinibus. Theano excelluit 
apud Locros versibus lyricis. Altera ejusdem nominis 
fuit pythagorica, quse scripsit in philosophiam com- 
mentarios de virtute, poemata quoque et apopthegmata. 
Zenobia regina Palmireorum fuit eruditissima sermonis 
graeci, segiptij, et non ignara latini. Erudijtfiliosduos 
quos habebat literis. Et plerunque habuit orationes 
apud suos milites quas galatea (for galeata) recitabat. 
Alpaides virgo fuit adeo religionis arnica, ut meruerit 
celitus percipere sensum bibliorum, et scripturae sacrae. 
Hodie est festus dies sanctse crucis, in qua pro nostra 
salute pependit seternus Jesus Christus films seterni 
patris. Dicedo in arbustum ut recreem meum inge- 
nium, quare finem scribendi facio. Vale. 14. Septemb. 



DELEORA, femme de la lignee d'Effrain, estoit docte, 
et devinoit les choses futures. Lastemia et Axiothea 
(comme temoigne Plutarque) ont este disciples de 
Platon, et a fin qu'elles eussent plus de moien de con- 
verser ca et la avec les gens scavans, elles entroient 
a I'echolle en habit d'homme. Michale tres doctement 
a enseigne a Thessale le remede d' amours. Diotima 
et Aspasia ont tant profite en philosophic, que Tune, a 
scavoir Diotima, Socrates, prince des philosophes, n'a 
eu honte appeller sa maitresse, ni d'aller aus legons de 
1'autre, comme Platon a laisse par ecrit. Lactantius 
dit que Themiste devant tout autre a este excellente 
en philosophic, Le roi m'a donne conge de prendre 
un daim au pare avec ma dame de Castres, dont je 
n'ai loisir vous faire plus longue lettre. 15. Sept. 


ARETE est pervenue a si grande doctrine, qu'apres 
que son pere Aristippe fut mort, elle tint son echole 
en philosophie, et cut plusieurs auditeurs. Dama, 
fille de Pythagoras, avoit Tesprit si grand en philoso- 



M. SC. K. EL. SOB. S. P. D. 

DELBORA, mulier ex tribu Effrain, erat peritissima, 
quae praedicebat res futuras. Lastemia et Axiothea, 
ut testatur Plutarcus, fuerunt discipulse Platonis, et ut 
facilius cum hominibus doctioribus versarentur, ingre- 
diebantur scholas cum habitu virili. Michale doctis- 
sima docuit apud Thessalos remedium amoris. Dio- 
thima et Aspasia adeo in philosophia profecerunt ut 
Socrates princeps philosophorum non veritus sit 
alteram, videlicet Diotimam, nominare magistram, et 
alterius lectionibus interesse, ut Plato scriptum reli- 
quit. Lactantius dicit Themistem ante omnes alias 
fuisse excellentiorem in philosophia. Rex mihi per- 
misit accipere damam in Theriotrophio ; eo \ r enatum 
cum domina a Castris, unde non licet per otium plura 
scribere. Vale. 



ARETE pervenit ad tarn maximam doctrinam, ut patre 
Aristippo mortuo rexerit scholas in philosophia, ha- 
buitque plures auditores. Dama filia Pythagorae prse- 
dita erat ingenio philosophise dedito, ut exposuerit patris 


phie, qu'elle a expose les plus difficiles sentences de 
son pere. Thargelia pareillement a este tres illustre 
en philosophic. On dit que Musca a este poete 
lyrique, et a ecrit plusieurs epigrammes. Carixena a 
fait aussi beaucoup de vers tres elegans. Ma lettre ne 
sera plus longue, ma seur, pour ce que n'estes encores 
asses bien guerie. Si je ne vous fu hier voir, le 
medecin en est cause, qui ne le voulut, pour ce qu'aves 
prins medecine. 18. Sept. 


ON loue aussi Msero pour une hynne qu'elle a faite a la 
louange de Neptune. Agallis de Corce (sic) a este fort 
illustre en grammaire, et Telesilla en poesie, laquelle loue 
grandement Pausanias, et lui fut erigee une statue en 
1'insule d'Argos, devant le temple de Venus. Hippar- 
chia, femme grecque, a semblablement este merveill- 
euse aus disciplines de philosophic. Je ne vous en 
nommerai d'autres pour le present, pour ce qui faut 
que j'alle voir le roi qui print au soir des pillules. Je 
n'eu loisir de vous visiter hier, je vous prie, ma seur, 
de me pardonner. 20. Sept. 


dificiliores sententias. Thargelia pariter illustrissima 
fuit in philosophia. Ferunt Muscam fuisse poetriam 
lyricam, quae scripsit plura epigrammata : Charixena 
fecit etiam plures elegantissimos versus. Non erit 
aepistola mea longior, suavissima soror, quia nondum 
satis convalescis. Si te non viserim heri, medicus in 
causa est, noluit enim propterea quod acceperas medi- 
cinam. Vale. 


M. SC. R. EL. SOEORI S. P. D. 

LAUDATUB etiam Msero hymno condito in laudem 
Neptuni. Agallis Corcirea fuit illustrissima in arte 
grammatica. Telesilla in poetica quam Pausanias 
valde celebrat, erecta fuit illi statua apud Argos ante 
templum Veneris. Hipparchia, mulier Grseca, simi- 
liter excelluit in disciplinis philosophicis. Nullas nu- 
merabo alias in praesentia, quia oportet me ire ad 
regem, qui sero accepit catapotia. Non licuit per 
otium imdsere te heri, quare te oratum velim, soror, 
ut mihi parcas. Vale. 



CAssANDRE,fillede Priam, a este prophete et de doctrine 
tres acomplie, et de ses ennemis honoree d'un temple en 
Lacedemone. Statins Papinius eut une femme nominee 
Claudia d'un esprit tres grand et admirable doctrine. 
Eudoxia, femme de Theodore le plus jeune, outre une 
grande beaute et une singuliere pudicite, a tant ex- 
celle aus lettres qu'elle a mis en lumiere un beau 
livre. Istrina, reyne des Scythes, temoin Herodote, a 
enseigne les lettres grecques a Syle son fils. C'est 
asses pour maintenant. II faut ouir que demande 
Philodoxus a Simbulus en Erasme. Adieu. 22. Sep- 


POLITIEN lone grandement Cassandre Fidele, fille 
venitiaine, laquelle il dit avoir manie le livre au lieu 
de la laine, la plume pour le fuseau, et le style pour 
1'eguille. De laquelle au commencement de quelque 
epitre il parle ainsi: O vierge, Thonneur d'ltalie, 
quelle grace te pui-je rendre de quoi tu ne dedaignes 
m'honorer de tes lettres. Proba Valeria, fillette 



M. SC. B. EL. SOEOEI S. P. D. 

CASSANDRA filia Priami fuit vates et illustris doctrina, 
et apud hostes templo insignita in Lacedemone. Sta- 
tius Papinius habuit uxorem nomine Claudiam, magno 
ingenio, et non vulgari doctrina prseditam. Eudoxia, 
uxor Theodori j unions, prseter egregiam formam, et 
singularem pudicitiam, ita excelluit literis, ut librum 
quondam emiserit in lucem. Istrina, regina Scytha- 
rum, ut testis est Herodotus, docuit Sylem filium 
literas Grsecas. Hsec hactenus, audiamus quid velit 
Philodoxus Simbulo apud Erasmum. Vale. 22. 


M. SC. B. EL. SOEOEI S. P. D. 

POLITIANUS laudat mirum in modum Cassandram 
Fidelem filiam Venetianam, quam dicit tractasse librum 
pro lana, pennam pro fuso, et stylum pro acu. De 
qua in principio cujusdarn epistolae ita loquitur. O 
virgo decus Italise, quales gratias possim tibi reddere, 
quod non dedigneris me honorare tuis literis. Proba 
Valeria puella Romana fuit excellentissima, cum grsecis 


romaine, a este tres excellente et aus lettres grecques, 
et aus latines, et a fait des gestes de Jesucrist, et de 
sa mort un oeuvre tres noble. La royne m'a defendu 
de vous aller voir, ma seur, pour ce qu'elle pense que 
vous aves la rougeolle, de quoi je suis bien fort marrie. 
Je vous prie me mander comme vous portes. 23. Sep- 


BAPTISTE premiere fille du prince Mal[at]este, a sou- 
vent dispute contre gens des plus doctes, avec une 
tres grand louange, et a ecrit des livres de la fragilite 
humaine et de la vraie religion. Isota, fille de Veronne, 
a fait grande profession de philosophic et a quelque 
fois ecrit a pape Nicolas cinquiesme, et Pie second de 
ce nom. Elle a encor ecrit un dialogue, auquel elle 
dispute lequel a le plus offense, Adam ou Eve : aus 
quelles louanges des lettres elle a adjoutte le veu de 
perpetuelle virginite. A Dieu, ma seur, bien aimee. 
A Paris, 12. d'Octobre 1554. 


[The French las 


turn etiam latinis literis et scripsit opus nobilissimum 
gestorum Jesu Christi, et mortis illius. Regina vetuit 
ne te viserem, soror, quod putet te laborare pustulis 
sive boa. Qua de re dolenter fero, atque unice te oro 
mihi significes ut valeas. Vale. 



BAPTISTA, prima Malatestse Pisauriensis principis filia, 
saepe magna sui laude disputavit cum viris doctissimis, 
et scripsit libros de humana fragilitate, et de vera reli- 
gione. Isota Navarola Veronensis professa est philo- 
sophiam, et quandoque scripsit ad Nicolaum quintum 
et Pium secundum, pontifices. Conscripsit etiam dia- 
logum quo disputatur uter peccaverit gravius, Adam, 
an Eva, quibus laudibus adjecit virginitatis votum 
perpetuum. Vale, arnica summa mea et soror. Lu- 
tetiae, 12. Octobris. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

MINERVA, prima Jovis filia, non prbpter aliud relata 
est in numerum deorum, nisi quia docta esset in 


never been written.] 


CATHERINE, fille du roi d' Alexandria, a este si bien 
apprise aus saintes lettres, et par son labeur, et par 
inspiration divine, qu'elle a vaincu plusieurs hommes 
doctes appelles de son pere pourlui persuader 1'idolatrie, 
et [faire quitter] la religion d'un seul Dieu. Fabiole, 
femme romaine, a d'un cueur si grand ambrasse les 
sainctes lettres, et lisoit si souvent les propheties, evan- 
giles, et autres bonnes Ie9ons, qu'elle a grandement 
augmente 1'amour de la religion. Sainct Hierome a 
souvent ecrit a Marcelle romaine, pour ce qu'elle scavoit 
fort bien les lettres grecques, et lui a dedie le livre qu'il 
a fait du mepris du monde, de notre foi, et de la 
doctrine des heretiques, du blaspheme contre le St. 
Esprit, et plusieurs autres choses. II faut que j'alle a 
vespre avec la roine, qui me garde vous faire plus 
longue lettre. A Paris. 


omnibus bonis artibus, quarum fuit inventrix. Manto 
quae dedit nomen Mantuge fuit sapientissima vaticinijs 
claruit. Nicostrata grsecas literas inpense dicta 
[This theme is left unfinished.] 


H. SC. R. EL. SOROEI S. P. D. 

CATHARINA, regis Alexandria filia, adeo sacris literis 
imbuta fuit, partim suo labore, partim afflatu divini 
spiritus, ut vicerit plures doctissimos viros vocatos a 
patre ad persuadendam idolatriam, et fugiendam unius 
Dei religionem. Fabiola, mulier Romana, tanto studio 
amplexa est sanctas literas, et revolvebat prophetias, 
evangelia, et alias bonas leetiones, ut auxerit vehemen- 
ter amorem religionis. Divus Hieronimus saepe scrip - 
sit Marcellse Romanae propter sacras literas quas egre- 
gie callebat, et ad earn scripsit librum quern fecit de 
contemptu mundi, de nostra fide, de doctrina hereti- 
corum, de blasphemia in spiritum sanctum, et alia id 
genus permulta. Oportet me interesse vesperis cum 
Regina, quare addam finem meis literis. Lutetise. 
28. Octob. Vale. 



EUSTOCHITJM, fille de Paule femme romaine, a excelle 
aus etudes de lettres hebraiques, greques, et latines : 
tant que de son temps elle fut appellee nouveau monstre 
du monde. Elle se voua, et s'addonna du tout aus 
letres sainctes, de quoi St. Hierome 1'aima, et loua 
fort. Genebria, femme de la nation de Veronne du 
temps de pape Pie 2. par sa grande erudition se rendit 
immortelle. Elle a ecrit des epitres pleines de grande 


CONSTANTIA, femme d'Alexandre S force, est mise au 
nombre des femmes excellentes en doctrine. Laquelle 
des son enfance a estudie aus bonnes disciplines, de 
sorte que promptement sans y avoir pense elle scavoit 
parler elegamment. Elle avoit tousjours aus mains les 
oeuvres de St. Hierome, de St. Ambroise, de St. 
Gregoire, Cicero, et Lactance. Promptement elle 
ecrivoit des carmes tres elegans, ce qu'on disoit qu'elle 
avoit appris sans maitre. Elle eut une fille nominee 
Baptiste, d'une si grande doctrine qu'elle epouvantoit 



M. R. SC. EL. SORORI S. P. D. ' 

EUSTOCHITJM, filia Paulee mulieris Romanse, excelluit 
study's literarum hebraicarum, grsecarum et latinarum, 
adeo ut suo tempore appellata fuerit novum monstrum 
totius mundi. Vovit et addixit se omnino sacris literis, 
quapropter divus Hieronimus earn et amavit et maxime 
laudavit. Genebria, mulier natione Veronensis tern- 
pore pontificis Pij. 2. meruit immortale nomen incredi- 
bili sua eruditione. Scripsit epistolas maxima doc- 
trina plenas. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

CONSTANTIA, uxor Alexandri Sfortise, ascribitur nu- 
mero feminarum excellentium doctrina. Quse ab 
infantia studuit bonis disciplinis, ita ut imparata poterat 
loqui eleganter. Semper habebat in manibus opus Sti. 
Hieronimi, Ambrosij, Gregory, Ciceronis, et Lactancij. 
Scribebat ex tempore (sic) carmina elegantissima. 
Id quod fertur didiscisse sine prseceptore. Habuit 
filiam, nomine Baptistam, tanta doctrina, ut terreret 
doctiores eloquentia. Manda memorise id quod ad te 

E 2 


les plus docte[s] de son eloquence. Retenes ce que je 
vous ai ecrit de toutes ces femmes, ma seur, et a leur 
exemple mettons peine d'apprendre les bonnes lettres, 
lesquelles, ainsi comme elles, nous rendront immor- 
telles a jamais. 


IL ne faut pas que vous soies marrie, si toutes les fois 
que vous failles, vous estes reprise. Car en toute 
institution, et mesmement en celle du prince, telle 
diligence y doit estre mise que la severite du precepteur 
corrige et emende les follies d'icelui. Et pour ce n'en 
aimes moins ceux qui vous tensent : mais au contraire, 
estimes fideles non ceus qui louent tout ce que vous 
faites et dites, mais ceus qui quand vous failles vous 
reprennent aprement. Ceus la, ma dame, sont les 
vrais et plus seurs amis du Prince. Adieu. De notre 
Bibliotheque a St. Germain, ce 23. Novembre. 


IL ne nous faut perdre le courage, ma seur, si la vertu 
et le scavoir sont longs a apprendre, car toutes choses 


scrips! ex istis omnibus feminis, soror, et exmplo \Jor 
exemplo] illarum demus operam ut discamus bonas 
literas, quae ita ut illas nos reddent immortales. Vale. 



NON est quod egre feras, hera, si quoties erras, repre- 
henderis. Nam in omni istitutione (sicj, et maxime in 
ea quae pertinet ad principem, ea adhibenda est dili- 
gentia, ut severitas praeceptoris corrigat et emendet 
illius laciviam (sic). Quare ne illos minus ama qui te 
objurgant: sed contra existima eos esse fideles, lion 
qui laudant quicquid dixeris fecerisve, sed qui te 
erantem increpant. Illi, hera, veri sunt amici principis. 
Vale. Ex nostra biblioteca, apud Stm. Germanum. 
23. Novembris. 



NON oportet nos despondere animum, soror, si virtus 
et eruditio discantur cum longo tempore. Nam ea 


qui si tost sont faites, tost elles perissent aussi. 
Agatharchus paintre se vantoit de paindre legerement, 
et que Zeuxis [restoit] trop long temps sur 1'ceuvre. 
Mais Zeuxis repondit, Je mets long temps a paindre, 
car je pain pour jamais. Les choses si tost nees 
perissent bien soudainement, et celles qui sont long 
temps elaborees durent un long age. La bete croit 
bien tost, et le buis petit a petit : regardes, ma seur, 
lequel dure plus. Prenes done courage, ma joie, la vertu 
est eternelle. A St. Germain. 24. Novembre. 1554. 


AGESILAUS interrogue par quel moien povoit acquerir 
honneste renommee : Si parle, repondit-il, ce qui est 
tres bon, et fait ce qui est tres honneste. Socrates 
respondit ainsi a celui qui demandoit le mesme, Si 
tu estudies, dit-il, a estre tel que tu veus estre veu. 
Car la gloire acquise par fards, n'est vraie gloire et ne 
dure gueres. Gardons nous done, ma seur, ni en jeu 
ni a bon esciant de dire ni faire que choses bonnes. 
A Dieu. 


omnia quse cito fiunt, cito etiam pereunt. Agatharchus, 
pictor, sese jactabat de celeritate pingendi, quod 
Zeuxis immoraretur operi. At Zeuxis respondit, 
diu pingo, sed pingo aeternitati. Res tarn subito natae, 
pereunt cito, et illae quae diu sunt elaboratae, durant 
per longam aetatem. Beta statim crescit, et buxus 
paulatim. Vide, soror, utrum plus durat. Sis animo 
forti, mea voluptas unica, virtus aeterna manebit. 
Apud St. Germanum. 24. Novembris. Vale. 

M. SC. E. EL. SOROEI S. P. D. 

AGESILAUS interrogatus qua ratione quisque posset 
assequi honestam famam : Si loquatur, inquit, id quod 
optimum sit, et fecerit quod honestissimum. Socrates 
itidem respondit idem petenti, si tu studeas esse talis, 
qualis haberi velis. Nam gloria parta fucis, non est 
vera gloria, nee diuturna. Curemus igitur, soror, ne 
ioco, vel serio, quid dicamus faciamusve, nisi quod 
optimum sit. Vale. 27. Novembris. 



JE lisoi au soir, un peu devant que m'endormir, une 
sentence d'Antalcidas digne d'estre apprise d'un 
chacun et mesmement d'un prince. Icelui, interrogue 
comment quelcun pourroit plaire aus hommes : Si 
parle, dit-il, a eux gratieusement, et leur donne choses 
utiles. Ilvous apprent (mes dames) qu'en vos propos 
il i ait grand douceur de paroles, et que soies liberales, 
donnant choses qui apportent grand profit a ceus aus 
quels vous donneres. 27. Novembre. 


QUAND quelque fois Denis entra en la chambre de son 
fils, et apperceut un si grand monceau de vases d'or 
et d'argent, s'ecriant, N'as-tu, dit-il, 1'entendement 
royal, que tu n'as fait quelque ami de tant de pots que 
je t'ai donnes ? Voulant dire que sans la benevolence 
des citoiens le royaume ne se peut acquerir ni estre 
garde. Et n'i a rien qui plus concilie I'amitie et 
benevolence que liberalite. Mais le jeune enfant, 
ignorant du maniment de choses, pensoit estre plus 
grand heur avoir de 1' argent que des amis. Fuions 
Favarice, ma seur, car elle est du tout indigne de la 
nature du prince. 




HEKI legebam paulo ante quam discederem cubitum, 
Alcidse (sic) sententiam dignamqusediscatur ab unoquo- 
que, et a principe maxime. Is interrogatus quomodo 
quisque posset hominibus placere : Si loquatur, inquit, 
illis jucundissime, et det illis utilissima. Vos docet, 
herse suavissimse meae, ut in colloquijs vestris sit ser- 
monis comitas maxima, tarn ut sitis liberale dando 
quae adferant utilitatem ijs quibus dederitis. Bene 
valete. 27. Novembris. 



QUUM aliquando Dionisius ingrederetur cubiculum 
filij, et videret magnam vim poculorum aureorum et 
argnteorum (sicj, exclamans, Non habes, inquit, regium 
animum, qui nullum feceris amicum ex tantis poculis 
quse dedi tibi? Sentiens sine benevolentia civium 
regium non posse parari, nee servari. Nihil est quod 
plus conciliet amicitiam et benevolentiam quam libe- 
ralitas. Sed juvenis imperitus rerum putabat esse 
felicius habere argentum quam amicos. Fugiamus 
avvaritiam, soror, nam indigna est omnino natura 
principis. Vale. 28. Novembris. 



ARISTODEMUS, un des grands amis d'Antigonus roi 
de Macedone, encores qui fut fils d'un cuisinier, lui 
persuadoit de retraindre sa depence et ses liberalites. 
Tes paroles, dit-il, Aristodeme, sentent la saulce. 
Montrant la chichete, si elle estoit aus cuisiniers, ne 
devoir estre aus rois. Et que par tel conseil il lui 
souvenoit de quel pere il estoit ne, et non de qui il 
estoit ami. Antigone montroit par cela ce que disoit 
Artoxerces fils de Xerces ; a scavoir, qu'il est plus digne 
a un prince d'augmenter les honneurs et richesses de 
ceus aus quels ils commandent, que les diminuer. 


CETTE histoire, ma seur, n'est de moindre dignite et 
utilite que celle que je vous contoi Her. Perillus, un 
des amis d'Alexandre, lui demanda douaire pour ses 
filles. Le roi commanda qu'il prist cinquante talents. 
Perillus repondit que dix seroient asses. C'est asses 
a toi, dit Alexandre, d'en recevoir autant, mais a moi 
non de n'en donner qu' autant. O liberalite digne 
d'un vrai prince. A Dieu, ma seur, je ne vous ferai 
plus longue lettre, par ce que j'ai mal aus dents. A 
St. Germain. 




QTJTJM Aristodemus unus ex numero amicorum Anti- 
goni Regis Macedonia, quamvis esset prognatus a 
coquo, persuaderet regi detrahere impendia et largitiones, 
Tua verba, inquit, Aristodeme, ius olent : demonstrans 
avaritiam esse coquorum, non regum, et tali consilio 
ind[i]care a quo patre natus esset, non cujus erat 
amicus. Antigonus hoc dicto demonstrabat, id quod 
Artoxerces films Xercis dicebat, videlicet dignius esse 
principi augere honores, et divitias eorum, quibus 
imperat, quam minuere. Vale. 4. Calend. Decemb. 
apud St. Germanum. 


M. SC. E. EL. SOROBI S. P. D. 

H^c historia non est indignior nee inutilior ilia quam 
tibi recitabam heri. Perillus, unus amicorum Alex- 
andri, ab Alexandro petijt dotem pro suis filiabus. 
Rex jussit ut acciperet quinquaginta talenta. Perillus 
respondit decem satis esse. Sufficeret tibi, inquit 
Alexander, tantum accipere, sed mini non satis est 
tantum dare. O liberalitatem dignam vero principe. 
Vale, soror dilectissima mea, non possum longiorem 
facere epistolam, quia laboro dentibus. Apud St. 
Germanum. 3. cal. Decemb. 



JE trouve la liberalite d'Alexandre si emerveillable 
que je ne me puis tenir vous en parler. Quand quel- 
que fois Xenocrates philosophe refusa cinquante talens 
qui lui envoia en don, disant qu'il n'en avoit que faire, 
lui demanda s'il avoit point d'amis qui en eussent 
besoin. A grand peine les richesses de Darius (dist 
le roi) m'ont-elles suffit pour mes amis. 


JE vous raconterai (ma seur) une liberalite plus grande 
que toutes les autres. Anaxarchus philosophe vint au 
roy Alexandre pour ce qui scavoit bien qu'il estoit 
liberal, et qu'il aimoit fort les lettres, et lui demanda 
argent pour bastir un college. Le roy commanda a 
son tresorier qui donnast au philosophe ce qu'il 
demanderoit. Le tresorier, estonne de la demande du 
philosophe, remoritra au roy qu'il demandoit cents 
talents. II fait bien, dit-il, sachant qu' Alexandre en 
peut et veut autant donner. Voiant ce roy avoir 
acquis une si grande renommee par liberalite, je suis 
marrie que je n'ai de quoi je puisse faire paroitre ma 



M. SO. E. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

TANTA mihi videtur liberalitas regis Alexandri ut non 
possum quin tibi iterum loquar de illo. Quum aliquo- 
ties Xenocrates philosophus recusavit quinquaginta 
talenta quse misit illi dono, dicens non esse illi opus.: 
Petijt si non haberet amicos quibus esset opus. Vix, 
inquit, opes Darij mihi suffecerunt in meos amicos. 
Vale. Apud St. Germanum. Decembris. 


M. SC. R. EL. SOEORI S. P. D. 

HANC etiam tibibi (sic) recitabo liberalitatem majorem 
omnibus alijs. Anaxarchus philosophus venit ad regem 
Alexandrum, quod sciret eum esse liberalem et amare 
literas, et petiit ab eo argentum ut gymnasium sedi- 
ficaret. Rex imperavit quaestori ut daret philosopho id 
quod peteret. Quaestor turbatus petitione philosophi 
indicavit Regi ilium petere centum talenta. Bene 
facit, inquit, scit enim Alexandrum et posse et velle 
tantum dare. Quare videns hunc Regem tantam 
acquisisse famam liberalitate, dolet mihi quod non 
habeam unde possim patefacere meum beneficen- 
tissimum animum. Decembris. 


JE vous prie, ma seur, vouloir entendre la reponce 
que fit ce tres liberal roy Alexandre. Interrogue ou 
il mettroit tons ses tresors, Devers mes amis, dit-il; 
signifiant, que les richesses ne peuvent estre mises 
plus seurement. Car quand la chose et le temps le 
requiert, elles reviennent a nous avec usure. Appre- 
nons, ma seur, qu'il est plus honneste donner que 
prendre, et pensons que Dieu ne nous a donne tant de 
richesses pour les garder en un monseau, mais pour 
les departir a ceux qui en ont besoin. 


JE me suis ebahi ce matin, ma seur, de voir les 
anciens ethniques, prives de la cognoissance de notre 
foi, estre plus sages que nous. Je lisoi que Socrates 
disoit qui ne failloit demander a Dieu que sa grace, 
reprenant ceux qui demandent une femme bien douee, 
des biens, des honneurs, des roiaumes, longue vie, 
comme voulant enseigner a Dieu ce qu'il faut faire. 
Ne faisons pas ainsi, ma seur, car Dieu scait mieux ce 
qui nous est bon, et ce qui nous est mauvais que 
nous mesme. 



M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

ORO te, soror, ut intelligas quid respondent libera- 
lissimus rex Alexander. Interrogatus ubi reconderet 
suos thesauros, Apud meos amicos,, significans 
quod opes non possunt reponi tutius. Nam cum res 
et tempus postulant, redeunt ad nos cum foenore. 
Discamus, soror, quod est fcelicius dare quam accipere. 
Et putemus Deum non nobis dedisse tantas opes ut 
cumulatim servaremus; sit ut daremus illis quibus 
opus est Vale. 11. Decembris. 

M. SC. B. EL. SOBORI S. P. D. 

MIRABAR hodie, soror, veteres ethnicos privatos cog- 
nitione nostrae fidei esse sapientiores nobis ipsis. 
Legebam Socratem dicere non oportere nihil a Deo 
petere, preeter suam sanctissimam gratiam, obiurgan- 
tem eos qui petunt uxorem bene dotatam, opes, 
honores, regna, longuam (sic) vitam : tanquam volentes 
Deum docere quid oporteat facere. Ne ita faciamus, 
soror, nam Deus optimus maximus melius scit quid 
nobis optimum sit et quod opessimum (sic), quam nos 
ipsi. Vale. 



LA coutume des Lacedemoniens estoit que le plus viel 
montroit la porte a tous ceus qui entroient aus banquets, 
disant, Qu'une seule parole ne resorte par la. Les 
admonestant qu'il ne failloit rien reporter, si librement 
il estoit dit quelque chose au banquet. Et institua 
cette coutume Lycurgus. Fuions done les raporteurs 
et les flateurs, ma seur, imitant Alexandre, envers 
lequel quand on accusoit quelq'un, il etoupoit 1'une 
de ses oreilles. Interrogue pour quoi il faisoit cela, 
je garde, disoit-il, Fautre entiere a celui qu'on acuse. 


QUAND je lisoi les beaus faicts d' Alexandre, le plus 
grand que fut jamais aus armes, j'ai note, Mons r> , qui 
n'aimoit rien tant que les lettres. Car quand on lui 
porta un petit coffret, si beau que rien ne se trouvoit 
plus excellent entre les richesses de Darius, et qu'on 
demandoit a quel usage il seroit destine, les Tins 
disant d'un, les autres d'autre : II lui sera donne 
Homere a garder, dit-il ; voulant dire qu'il n'estoit 
tresor plus grand que cela. Ce qu'il approuva une 



M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

CONSUETUDO Lacedemoniorum erat, ut is qui senior, 
ostenderet fores illis omnibus qui ingrediebantur con- 
vivia, inquiens, ne quis sermo per has fores egrediatur. 
Admonens eos nihil effutiendum esse, si quid liberius 
diceretur in convivio. Hunc morem institutur Ly- 
curgus. Fugiamus igitur adulatores, et linguaces, 
soror, imitantes Alexandrum, apud quern, cum aliquis 
accusabatur, occludebat alteram aurem. Interogatus 
cur hoc faceret, Servo, dicebat, alteram integram illi 
qui accusatur. Vale. 



QUUM legerem pulchra facinora Alexandri, maioris 
quam qui unquam fuerit in armis hoc unum notavi 
(princeps illustrissime), eum nihil seque ac literas amare. 
Nam cum tulissent illi scriniolum adeo pulcrum ut 
nihil pulcrius inter opes Darij, et petiissent in quern 
usum destinandum esset : alijs aliud suadentibus da- 
bitur huic servandus Homerus, inquit, signifigans se nihil 
potius amare, nee u[l]lum eo thesaurum praeciosiorem. 
Id quod alias probavit, quum quidam gaudio gestiens 


autre fois par autre fa$on, quand quelquun s'eiouissant 
fort accourut a luy, pour luy raconter quelque chose 
heureusement advenue. Que m'annonceras tu de 
grand, dit-il, mon amy, si tu ne disois qu'Homere 
requist [revequist] ? Signifiant toute la gloire de 
beaus faicts perir, si ni a un tel bon chanteur qu'a 
este Homere. Aimes doncques les lettres, Mons% 
lesquelles seullernent n'augraenteront vos vertus, mais 
rendront immortels vos beaus faicts. A St. Germain. 
20. de Decembre. 


L' AMOUR que je vous porte, Mons% m'a donne hardi- 
esse de vous prier que le plus que vous pourres aies 
avecques vous gens vertueux et sc,avans, et que sur tout 
aimes votre precepteur, a 1'exemple d'Alexandre, qui 
a d'une telle reverence honore Aristote qu'il disoit ne 
luy devoir moms qu'a son pere. Pour ce que de son 
pere il en avoit pris le commancement de vivre, et de 
son maitre le commancement de bien vivre. 


accurreret, ut recitaret aliquam rem feliciter gestam. 
Quid magni, bone vir, mihi anuncies, inquit, nisi dicas 
Homerum revixisse j significans gloriam pulcrorum 
factorum perituram, si desit talis preco, qualis Home- 
rus fuit. Ama igitur literas, princeps illustrissime, 
quse non solum augebunt tuas virtutes, sed tua pulcra 
facta immortalia redeunt (for reddunt). Vale. Apud 
St. Germanum. 13. Calend. Januar. 



AMOR quo te unice complector, princeps illu[s]trissime, 
efficit ut ausim te deprecari tecum habeas quantum 
poteris probos et sapientes homines, et ante omnia 
praeceptorem ames, exemplo Alexandri, qui tanta reve- 
rentia Aristotelem prosecutus est, ut diceret se non 
minus illi quam patri debere : quod a patre initium 
vivendi solum, a prseceptore bene vivendi initium 
accipisset. Vale. 



AGESILATJS volant que plusieurs estoient entaches 
d'avarice, avoit coutume d'admonester ses amis qui 
n'estudiassent tant a s'enrichir de pecunes que de 
force et de vertu. Pour ce qu'en vain acquiert des 
richesse, qui est sans les vrais biens de 1'esprit. Car, 
ma seur, ceux-ci nous accompaignent, et font honneur 
apres notre notre (sic) mort ; et les autres nous trom- 
pent, et perissent en un moment. A St. Germain, 26. 


ARISTIPPE interrogue quelle difference il y avoit entre 
les doctes et les ignorans, autant qu' entre les chevaux 
dontes et ceus qui ne le sont point. Car tout ainsi 
qu'un cheval qui n'est point dresse est incommode a 
tout usage, pour son ignorance et ferocite : ainsi celui 
qui est transporter de ses affections, lesquelles la seule 
philosophic apprivoise, est inutile a toute coutume de 
la vie. A St. Germain, le jour St. Jean apres la 
natiuite de Jesuchrist. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

QUUM videret Agsilaus (for Agesilaus) plures laborare 
pecuniae studio, solebat admonere amicos ut ne tarn 
pecuniis studerent ditescere, quam fortitudine et virtute. 
Nam frustra parat opes qui est sine veris bonis animi. 
Hsec nos comitantur, soror, et nobis addunt honorem : 
ilia vero nos decipiunt, et pereunt uno momento. Vale. 
Apud St. Germanum. 


M. SC. R. EL. SOEOEI S. P. D. 

ARISTIPPUS interrogatus quo differebant docti ab 
ignorantibus : quo equi domiti ab ijs qui sunt indomiti. 
Nam ut equs qui indomitus est incommodus est ad 
omnem rem ob iscitiam et ferocitatem, ita ille qui 
rapitur suis affectibus quos sola philosophia domat est 
inutilis ad omnem consuetudinem vitae. Apud St. 
Germanum, die St. loannis a nativitate lesu Cristi. 



ARISTIPPE disoit que mieux valloit estre povre 
qu'estre indocte, pour ce que le povre a seulement 
afaire d'argent, et 1'autre d'humanite. Et d'avantage 
celuy n'est moins homme auquel defaut argent, mais 
celui n'est homme auquel defaut sgavoir. Outre plus, 
celui qui a faute d'argent, en demande a ceux qui 
rencontre : et celui auquel defaut prudence, ne sollicite 
personne pour en avoir. Nous avons des richesses 
asses, ma seur, efforgons nous d'acquerir de la doctrine. 
A St. Germain, dernier jour de cest an 1554. 


Nous devons vouloir, ma seur tres aimee, que soions, 
pendant que sommes jeunes, reprinses d'un chacun, 
arm que soions plus tost sages. Et ne nous faut dire 
tantost a 1'un, tantost a Fautre, Quoi? t'appartientil de 
me reprendre ? Diogenes disoit a Xeniades du quel il 
estoit achete, combien que je soy serf, si est il necessaire 
que tu m'obeisses, car qui a un nautonnier, ou medecin 
serviteur, il est contrainct de lui obeir, s'il en veut 
recevoir profit. Je ne vueil oblier a vous dire que j'ai 



M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

ARISTIPPTJS dicebat satius esse fieri pauperem quam 
indoctum : quia ille tantum eget pecunijs, hie vero 
humanitate. Et porro ille non minus homo est cui 
pecunia deest, sed non homo est cui sapientia deest. 
Prseterea cui pecunia deest, petit ab obvijs, et ille cui 
prudentia deest, neminem sollicitat ut habeat. Satis 
habemus opum, soror, conemur adipisci doctrinam. 
Vale. Apud St. Germanum, die ultimo anni 1554, 


M. SC. R. EL. SOR. S. P. D. 

DEBEMUS velle (arnica summa sua et soror) dum 
iuvenes sumus, emmendari ab unoquoque, ut simus 
citius sapientiores ; nee oportet nos dicere modo huic, 
modo illi : Quid pertinet ad te reprehendere me ? 
Diogenes dicebat Xeniadse a quo emptus erat, etiam 
si servus sum, tamen necesse est ut tu mini pareas, 
quia qui habet nauclerum, vel medicum servum, cogi- 
tXir illi obedire, si velit perciperc utilitatem ab illo, 
Non obliviscar tibi dicere modo intellexisse me regem 


entendu que le roy se porte mieux qui ne faisoit hier, 
dont j'en rens graces a Dieu, qui vous garde en bonne 
sante. A St. Germain. 5. de Janvier, 1554. 


EPENETUS avoit coutume de dire les menteurs estre 
auteurs de tons crimes et toutes iniures. Laquelle 
sentence ne discorde point aus lettres des Hebreus, 
lesquelles narrent que par la menterie du serpent les 
portes out este ouvertes a tout genre de vice. Par ce 
nom de menterie sont aussi contenus les flateurs, 
calumniateurs, medians conseilleurs et maulvais gou- 
verneurs, qui sont fontaine de tous maulx. Puis 
done que tant le mensonge deplait a Dieu et [est] si 
dommageable aus homines, faisons, ma seur, que 
touiours soions veritables. 

PLUSIEURS belles histoires temoignent que les anciens 
ont este plus studieus de la Rep. et salut des citoiens, 
que ceus qui ont regne depuis. Temoin en est 
Pomponius homme notable et digne de grande louange, 


melius habere quam heri. -^Jnde ago gratias immor- 
tales Deo opt. max., qui tuam valetudinem feliciter 
conserved Vale. 5. lanuarij. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

EPENETTJS dicere solebat mendaces esse autores om- 
nium crimiimm, et omnium iniuriarum. Quse senten- 
tia non dissonat a literis Hebreorum, quse narrant ut 
mendacio serpentis, fores apertae fuerunt omni generi 
vitiorum. Et hoc nomine mendacium adulatores, ca- 
lumniatores, mali consiliarij, et perversi educatores 
continentur, qui sunt fontes omnium malorum. Cum 
igitur mendacium Deo tantum displiceat, et perniciosum 
sit hominibus : faciamus, soror, ut ne quidem ioco 
mentiamur, sed simus omne tempore veraces. Vale. 
7. January. Apud St. Germanum. 


M. SC. R. EL. SORORI S. P. D. 

PLURES pulcrse historise testantur veteres fuisse stu- 
diossiores reipublicse et salutis civium quam illos qui 
regnaverunt ab eo tempore. Ponponius, homo in- 
signis et dignus magna laude, testis est, qui multis 


lequel estant fort blece fut amene a Mitbridates, qui 
lui demanda si le faisoit penser, il vouloit estre son 
ami ? Si tu veus (repondit Pomponius) estre ami aus 
Remains, je serai aussi le tien. Vous voies que sa vie 
ne lui estoit si chere que I'amitie qui portoit a la 
republique. A St. Germain, 8. de Janvier. 


TEES elegamment a chante le poete qui a dit la 
liberte ne povoir asses estre achetee. Du quel advis 
estoit Diogenes, tres excellent philosophe, qui re- 
pondit a ceus qui louoient le bon heur d'Aristote de 
quoi il vivoit avec le fils d'un roy : Aristote, dit-il, 
dinne quand il plaist a Alexandre, Diogenes quand il 
plaist a Diogenes. Voulant dire riens n'estre heureux 
si liberte defaut. Apprenons done les arts et bonnes 
disciplines, ma seur, par lesquelles plus facilement 
nous acquerrons vertu, nourrice et mere de liberte, 
car temoin 1'ecriture saincte, quicunque fait peche est 
serviteur d'iceluy. 


vulneribus confossus, adductus fuit ad Mithridatem, 
et cum ab eo qusereretur si curaret eum vellet sibi 
amicus esse ? Si tu, inquit, fueris amicus Romanis me 
etiam amicum habebis. Vides amicitiam qua rem- 
publicam prosequebatur maiorem et vita ipsa cariorem. 
Vale. 8. lanuarij. 


M. SC. K. EL. SOROEI S. P. D. 

Hoc carmen cecinit eleganter poeta, 

Non bene pro toto libertas venditur auro. 

Cuius opinionis erat Diogenes philosophus eximius, 
qui respondit illis qui laudabant felicitatem Aristotelis 
quodviveret cum regis filio : Aristoteles, inquit, prandet 
quand[o] placet Alexandro, Diogenes quando placet 
Diogeni. Significans nihil esse beatum si libertas 
desit. Discamus ergo bonas diciplinas et artes, soror, 
per quas facilius parabimus virtutem matrem et neutri - 
cem libertatis. Nam, ut sta. Scriptura testatur, qui- 
cumque facit peccatum servus est peccati. Vale. 
9. Ian. 



DIOGENES disoit les homines bons estre les images et 
simulacres de Die us, plus tost que les statues d'or, 
d' argent, ou d'airain : car il est propre aus Dieus de 
bien faire a tous, et ne nuire a personne. Ce que 
mieus reluit aus sages et aus bons, qu'aus statues 
quelques precieuses qu'elles soient. II disoit encores 
une autre chose que vous loueres grandement, ascavoir, 
entre les indigens et miserables n' estre tenu celuy qui 
s'est acquis de bonnes sciences et de bons amis. 
Mais que celui estoit malheureusement povre qui 
n'estoit pourveu de quelque vertu. 


[The French has never been ivritten.'] 



M. SC. R. EL. SOEOEI S. P. D. 

DIOGENES dicebat bonos viros esse imagines et simul- 
acra deorum, potius quam statuas aureas, argenteas, 
vel aereas, Nam proprium est deorum bene facer e 
omnibus et nocere nemini. Id quod magis elucet in 
sapientibus et bonis viris quam in statuis quantisvis 
(for quantumvis) preciossissimis. Dicebat etiam aliud 
quod maxime laudabis, videlicet inter pauperes et miseros 
ilium non haberi qui sibi paravit bonas scientias, et 
probos amicos. Sed eum esse infeliciter egenum qui 
non sit preditus aliqua virtute. Vale. 



LEGEBAM hodie apud Ciceronem, soror, non oportere 
efFerri rebus felicibus et prosperis ; nam, ut dixit Solon, 
Crejo nemo ant (for ante) obitum felix. Rotat omne 
fatum, et si fortuna blanditur nobis hodie, eras mina- 
tur. Quomodo accidit Policrati regi Samiorum poten- 
tissimo, et usque adeo felici ut ab omnio prselio re- 
portorit victoriam. Et tamen evenit quod Oretes, 
prsefectus Ciri rex Persarum eum superavit et afixit 




[The French has never been written.] 



cruci. Quanto ergo superiores simus tanto nos su- 
missius geramus. Dicentes cum Davide rege et pro- 
pheta, in manibus tuis sortes mese, non nobis Domine, 
non nobis, sed nomini tuo sanctissimo laus, honor et 
gloria sit in secula seculorum. Amen. Vale. 



QUEMADMODTTM non debemus efferi quavis bona for- 
tuna que nobis evenit, ita adversa non debemus de- 
spondere animum, nee quoquomodo turbari, veluti 
legimus de Socrate, qui nunquam visus est vultu aut 
hilari magis aut turbato. Xantippse (sic) testatur, quse 
dixit se semper ipsum vidisse eodem vultu exeuntem 
domo et revertentem. Porro si sumus pauperes in hoc 
seculo, in hoc sumus similes Deo, et patri nostro, qui 
non habuit ubi reclinaret caput suum. Si homines 
nos odaerint, hoc pollicetur nobis gloriam regna (for 
regina) celorum. Vale. 




jFiftcrntfj Centura. 







THE Sloane MS. No. 2593, in the British Museum, 
has been long known to the literary historians of 
the English middle ages, and several of the songs 
contained in it have been printed. I myself, when 
first entering on the study of this class of literature, 
edited a selection from it in a small black-letter 
volume published by the late Mr. Pickering. Since 
that time, another volume of the same kind, and 
containing second copies of some of its contents, 
fell into my hands accidentally, and I edited it 
entire for the Percy Society, under the title of 
Songs and Carols, now first printed from a 
Manuscript of the Fifteenth Century. As far as I 
have been able to ascertain, these are the only col- 
lections of the kind known to exist ; they are both 
of them apparently the song -books of minstrels; 

and they are both curious for the character and 
variety of the poetical effusions they contain, and 
for the interesting illustration they afford us of 
contemporary popular sentiments ; they are both 
also of about the same date. The Sloane MS., from 
which the present collection is printed, has been 
generally ascribed, from the character of the writing, 
to the reign of Henry VI. I have thought, there- 
fore, that it would not be unacceptable to the 
readers of our old poetry, if I gave a complete 
edition of the Sloane Manuscript, as a companion 
to the volume printed for the Percy Society. 

One of these songs, No. lii, p. 73, furnishes us with 
curious data for fixing more exactly the period at 
which it at least was composed, if we could identify 
the circumstances alluded to in it. The reader, or 
rather the hearer, of this song, is reminded, as so 
many memorials of the frailty of human affairs, of 
certain great disasters which, at the time it was 
composed, were fresh in people's memories. The 
first of these were the " dear years three/' in which 
multitudes of people died of hunger ; the next were 
two pestilences of a fearful description ; after this 
came a tempest a wind's blast which blew down 
steeples, and was accompanied with terrible thunder 

and lightning, by which the priory of the Carmelites, 
and the tolbooth at Lynn, in Norfolk, were burnt. 
This last circumstance would fix the date imme- 
diately, but unfortunately I have not been able to 
discover any historical notice of the event to which 
it alludes. Pestilences and famines were rather 
common during the fourteenth and fifteenth cen- 
turies, and when described in general terms are not 
easily identified. After a comparison of the events 
of this kind mentioned in the old chronicles, I am 
inclined to think, however, that the two pestilences 
mentioned in our song are those two celebrated pes- 
tilences of the fourteenth century (occurring in the 
years 1349 and 1361-2) which are commemorated 
in the well-known popular poem of Piers Plough- 
man, and that the " wyndes blast " of our song is 
the terrible south-western wind of the same remark- 
able poem, which occurred on the 1 5th of January, 
1362, and of which we are there told 

He preved that thise pestilences 

Were for pure synne, 

And the south-westrene wynd 

On Saterday at even 

Was pertliche for pure pride, 

And for no point ellis ; 

Pyries and plum-trees 

Were puffed to the erthe, 
In ensaumple that the segges 
Sholden do the bettre ; 
Beches and brode okes 
Were blowen to the grounde, 
Turned upward hire tailes, 
In tokenynge of drede 
That dedly synne er domes-day 
Shal for-doon hem alle. 

Piers Ploughman, I. 2500. 

Stowe says of this tempest, "The king held his 
Christmas at Windsore, and the xv. day following 
a sore and vehement southwest winde brake forth, 
so hideous, that it overthrew high houses, towers, 
steeples, and trees, and so bowed them, that the 
residue which fell not, but remained standing, were 
the weaker/' The first of the two pestilences was 
followed by a period of excessive dearness, which I 
suspect was identical with the three dear years of 
our song. 

Now the great pestilences of the fourteenth 
century were certainly well remembered for two 
centuries afterwards, but they were remembered 
not as the two pestilences, but as the three pesti- 
lences, of which the third occurred in the year 1369. 
If I am right, therefore, in explaining the allusions, 

this song must have been originally composed be- 
fore the third pestilence, or between 1362 and 1369, 
and probably very soon after the former year. 

Of course this date would apply only to the 
particular song in question, and it proves nothing 
as to the age of the others ; but I think we may 
fairly infer from it, that the songs contained in 
these two collections do not by any means belong 
to the particular age of the manuscripts in which 
they are found, but that they belong to a numerous 
class of popular literature which were preserved in 
the memory of the sort of people who sang them, 
during several generations, and that some of them 
were only at times copied down by accident in 
collections like the two which I have edited, which 
we may therefore regard as very curious monuments 
of the minstrel lore. All this explains the great in- 
correctness with which they are written, and the 
numerous variations we find where we have more 
than one copy of the same song, which would 
naturally arise in taking it down from the memory 
of different persons at different times. The collection 
printed for the Percy Society is the more curious 
of the two, both because it contains a larger pro- 
portion of songs not of a religious character, and 

because some of them are accompanied with the 
musical notes. 

I will only add that in editing the Sloane MS. I 
have followed the same principle adopted in the 
volume printed for the Percy Society, of strictly 
following the manuscript, even in its errors, many 
of which are in themselves philologically curious. 
The Latin, especially, is in many cases extremely 


14, Sydney Street, Bromptou, 
April, 1850. 



Thou wost wol lytyl ho is thi foo. 

MAN, loke thou have this gys, 
Quat sum evere thou xalt doo, 

Of thi speche the wil avys, 

Thou wost wol lytil ho is thi foo. 

Man, rewle thi tunge in swych a gys, 
That non mysspeche come the froo ; 

For than thou dost as the wys, 
Thou wost wol lytil ho is thi foo. 

Idil speche I rede thou spys, 

Lok to horn thou seyst thi wil too ; 

Qwether thou stonde, walke, or ryde, 
Thou wost wol lytil ho is thi foo. 



The bryd seyde on his devys, 

Thou mytyst telle sum man thi woo, 

He wol it were dublyd thryis ; 
Thou wost wol lytil ho is thi foo. 

If thou wyt beryn awey the prys, 

Lestene this song and synge the too, 

Of thi speche the wil avys, 

Thou wost wol lytil ho is thin foo. 


Now bething the, gentilman, 
How Adam dalf and Eve span. 

IN the vale of Abraham 
Cryst hym self he made Adam, 
And of his rybbe a fayr womman, 

And thus this semly word began. 

" Cum, Adam, and thou xalt se 
The blysse of paradis that is so fre ; 
Therm stant an appil-tre, 

Lef and frewt growit theron. 

Adam, if thou this appil ete, 
Alle these joyis thou xalt foi^ete, 


And the peynis of helle gete." 

Thus God hym self warnid Adam. 

Quan God was fro Adam gon, 
Sone after cam the fend anon ; 
A fals tretour he was on, 

He tok the tre, and krep theron. 

" Quat eylyt the, Adam, art thou wod ? 
Thi lord ha3t tawt the lytil good, 
He wolde not thou understod 
Of the wyttes that he can. 

Tak the appil of the tre, 
And ete therof, I bidde the, 
And alle hese joyis thou xalt se, 
Fro the he xal hedyn non." 

Quan Adam hadde that appil ete, 
Alle hese joyis wern fo^ete, 
Non word more my3t he speke, 
He stod as nakyd as a ston. 

Than cam an aungil with a swerd, 
And drof Adam into a disert ; 
Ther was Adam sore aferd, 

For labour coude he werkyn non. 

B 2 



Alle maydenis, for Godes grace, 
Worchepe $e seynt Nicolas. 

SEYNT Nicholas was of gret poste, 
For he worchepid maydenis thre, 
That wer sent in fer cuntre 

Common wommen for to be. 

Here fader was man in powre aray, 
Onto his dowteres he gan say, 
" Dowteres, 36 must away, 

Non lenger kepe 3011 1 may. 

Dowteres, myn blyssing I 3011 3eve, 
For .catel wil not with me thryve, 
36 must with 3owre body leve, 
3our worde3e must dryve." 

The eldest dowter swor, be bred of qwete, 
" I have levere beggyn myn mete, 
And getyn me good qwer I may gete, 
Than ledyn myn lyf in lecherie." 

The medil dowter seyde, so mote che the, 
" I hadde levere hangyd and drawyd be 


With wylde hors to or thre, 

Than ledin myn lyf in lecherie." 

The 3ongere lechery gan to spyse, 
And preyid saynt Nicholas, as che was wise, 
" Saynt Nicholas, as he was wyse, 
Help us fro lecherie." 

Saynt Nicholas, at the townys ende, 
Consoylid tho maydenis horn to wynde, 
And throw Godes grace he xulde hem synde 
Husbondes thre good and kind. 


God that alle mytes may, 
Helpe us at our ending daye. 

THIS word, lordingges, I understonde, 
May be lyknyd to an husbonde, 
That taket a ferme into his honde 
To 3elde therof serteyn pay. 

Spende we neyther speche ne spylle, 
Neyther for good ne for ille, 
We xuln jevyn acountes grylle 

Beforn our Lord on domys daye. 


Leve lordynges, be war of this, 
For oftyn tyme we don amys, 
Ther is non of us i-wys 

But that we trespasyn every day. 

This word, lordynges, is but a farye, 
It faryt ry3t as a neysche weye, 
That now is wet and now is dreye, 

For sothe serteyn, as I jou say. 

Now is joye and now is blys, 
Now is balle and bitternesse ; 
Now it is, and now it nys ; 

Thus pasyt this word away. 

Now I hope and now I synge, 
Now I daunce, now I sprynge, 
Now I weyle and now I wrynge, 

Now is wel, and now is way. 

Now I hoppe and now I daunce, 
Now I preke and now I praunce ; 
This day heyl, te morwe perchaunce 

We mown be ded and ley in clay. 

At domis day quan we xul ryse, 


And come beforn our heye justyse, 

And 3evyn acountes of our servise, 

And payin up our laste pay, 

Help us, Mary, for than is nede ; 

Help to excusyn our misdede, 

As thou art monevvere at our nede, 

Help us than, and sey not nay. 


flos de Jesse virgula, 
Laus tibi sit et gloria. 

ADAM our fader was in blis, 
And for an appil of lytil prys 
He loste the blysse of paradys, 
Pro sua superbia. 

And alle that evere of hym cam 
The ryth weye to helle nam, 
Bothe Ysaac and Abraham, 
Teste profecia. 

Than these profetes prechyd aforn, 
That a chyl'd xuld be born 


To beye that Adam hadde forlorn, 
Sua morte propria. 

Moyses ferst in his lawe told 
A chyld ther xuld be born so bold, 
To beye a3yn that Adam sold, 
Sua node pessima. 

Isaac withoute lesyng 
Profeciid in his prechyng 
Of Jesse rote a flour xuld spryng 
De viraine purica. 

Jeromy, that was so 3yng, 
Profecyid of his comyng, 
That is veri lord and kyng, 
jSummi patris gratia. 

Ferthere more, as I 3ou telle, 
Than profecyid Danyelle, 
Of hys comyng he gan spelle, 
Gentibus in Judea. 

Quan tyme cam of God almy3t, 
That wolde brynge mankynde to ry3t, 
In a maydyn he gan Iy3t, 
Que vocatur Maria. 


Now is he born, that blysful chyld, 
Of Mary moder mayde myld, 
Fro the fynd he us schyld, 
Qui creamt omnia. 

Prey we to hym with al our mynde, 
That ha3t mad al mankynde, 
He brynge us alle to good ende, 
In die novissima. 


Eya, Jhesus hodie 
Natus est de virgine. 

BLYSSID be that mayde Mary, 
Born he was of here body, 
Godis sone that syttit on hy, 
Non ex virili semine. 

In a manjour of an as 
Jhesu lay and lullyd was, 
Harde peynis for to pas, 

Pro peccante homine. 

Kynges comyn fro dyvesse londe, 
With grete 3yftes in here honde, 


In Bedlem the child they fonde, 
Stella ducte lumine. 

Man and chyld bothe eld and ying, 
Now in his blysful comyng, 
To that chyld mow we syng, 
Gloria tibi, Domine. 

Nowel, nowel in this halle, 
Make merye, I prey 3011 alle, 
Onto the chyld may we calle, 
Ullo sine crimine. 


Gay, gay, gay, gay, 

Think on drydful domis day. 

EVERY day thou my3t lere, 

To helpe thi self qwil thou art here, 

Quan thou art ded and leyd on here, 

Cryst help thi sowle, for thou ne may. 

Thynk, man, on thi wyttes fyve, 
Do sum good qwyl thou art on lyve ; 
Go to cherche, and do the schryve, 

And bryng thi sowle in good aray. 


Thynk, man, on thi synnys sevene, 
Think how merie it is in hevene ; 
Prey to God with mylde stefne, 

To be thin helpe on domys day. 

Loke that thou non thing stere, 
Ne non fals wytnesse bere ; 
Thynk how Cryst was stunge with spere, 
Quan he deyid on good Fryday. 

Loke that thou ne sle non man, 
Ne do non foly with non womman ; 
Thynk the blod from Jhesu ran, 
Quan he deyid withoutyn nay. 


Wommen be bothe good and trewe, 
Wytnesse of Marye. 

Or hondes and body and face am clene, 
Wommen mown non beter bene, 
In every place it is sene, 

Wytnesse of Marie. 

It is knowyn and evere was, 
Ther a womman is in plas, 


Womman is the welle of gras, 

They lovyn men with herte trewe, 
Ho wyl not chaungyn for non newe, 
Wommen ben of wordys ffewe, 


Wommen ben trewe without lesyng, 
Wommen be trewe in alle thing, 
And out of care they mown us bryng, 
Wytnesse of Marie. 


Jhesu, Jhesu, Jhesu, Jhesu, 
Saf us alle thorw thi vertu. 

JHESU, as thou art our savyour, 
That thou save us fro dolour ; 
Jhesu is myn paramour ; 

Blyssid be thi name, Jhesu. 

Jhesu was born of a may, 

Upon Cristemesse day, 

Sche was may beforn and ay ; 

Blyssid be thi name, Jhesu. 


Thrc kynges comen fro segent, 

To Jhesu Cryst they browte present ; 

Lord God omnipotent, 

Saf us alle throw thy vertue. 

Jhesu deyid and schad his blod 
For al mankynde upon the rod ; 
He graunt us grace of happis good, 
I beseke the, swete Jhesu. 

Jhesu, for thy moderes sake, 
Kepe us fro the fyndis blake, 

hym that we mown wake ; 

And save us alle throw thi vertu. 


Now go gyle, gyle, gyle, 
Now go gile, gyle, go. 

GYLE and gold togedere arn met, 
Coveytyse be hym is set, 
Now hajt gyle leyd his net, 

To gyle bothe frynd and fo. 

Ther is non man wo^t a schelle, 
But he cun plete with wryt or bylle, 


His neybowres for to spylle, 

And othere men to werkyn wo. 

Coweytise in herte is lent, 
Ryjt and resoun awey is went; 
Man, be war thou be not schent, 
Gyle wil thy herte slo. 

Now ha3t gyle get hym gre, 
Bothe in town and in cete, 
Gyle goth with gret mene, 

With men of lawe and othere mo. 

Trewthe hevene mot he wynne, 
Gyle xal in helle brenne ; 
He that made al mankynde, 

Amend hem that mys han do. 


Syng we alle and sey we thus, 
Gramersy myn owyn purs. 

QUAN I have in myn purs i-now, 
I may have bothe hors and plow, 
And also fryndis i-now, 

Throw the vertu of myn purs. 


Quan my purs gynny3t to slak, 
And ther is nowt in my pak, 
They wil seyn, " Go, far wil, Jak, 

Thou xalt non more drynke with us." 

Thus is al myn good i-lorn, 
And myn purs al totorn, 
I may pleyine with an horn, 

In the stede al of myn purs. 

Far wil, hors, and far wil, cow, 
Far wil, carte, and far wil, plow ; 
As I pleyid me with a bow, 

I seyd, " God, quat is al this ? " 


Synful man, for Godis sake, 
I rede that thou amendis make. 

THOW thou be kyng of tour and town, 
Thow thou be kyng and were coroun, 
I sette ry3t not be thi renown, 

But if thou wylt amendys make. 

That hast here is othere menys, 

And so it xal ben quan thou art hens ; 


Thi sowle xal abeye thi synnys, 

But if thou wit amendes make. 

Thow thou be bothe stef and strong, 
And many a man thou hast do wrong, 
Wellaway xal be thi song, 
But, etc. 

Man, be war, the weye is sleder, 
Thou xal slyde thou wost not qweder ; 
Body and sowle xul go togeder, 
But, etc. 

Man, ber not thi hed to heye, 
In pumpe and pride and velonye ; 
In helle thou xalt ben hangyd hye, 

But if thou wilt amendis make. 


Of a rose, a lovely rose, 
Of a rose is al myn song. 

LESTENYT, lordynges, bothe elde and 3ynge, 
How this rose began to sprynge ; 
Swych a rose to myn lykynge 

In al this word ne knowe I non. 


The aungil cam fro hevene tour, 
To grete Marye with gret honour, 
And seyde sche xuld here the flour, 

That xulde breke the fyndes bond. 

The flour sprong in heye Bedlem, 
That is bothe bry3t and schen ; 
The rose is Mary hevene qwyn, 

Out of here bosum the blosme sprong. 

The ferste braunche is ful of my3t, 
That sprong on Cyrstemesse ny3t ; 
The sterre schon over Bedlem bryjt, 
That is bothe brod and long. 

The secunde braunche sprong to helle, 
The fendys power doun to felle ; 
Therin my3t non sowle dw[e]lle ; 

Blyssid be -the tyme the rose sprong. 

The thredde branche is good and swote, 
It sp[r]ang to hevene crop and rote, 
Therin to dwellyn and ben our bote ; 

Every day it schewit in prystes hond. 


Prey we to here with gret honour, 
Che that bar the blyssid flowr, 
Che be our helpe and our socour, 

And schyd us fro the fyndes bond. 


Man, be war, be war, be war, 

And kep the that thou have no car. 

THI tunge is mad of fleych and blod, 

Evele to spekyn it is not good, 

But Cryst, that deyid upon the rood, 

So 3yf us grace our tunge to spare. 

Thi lyppis arn withoute bon ; 
Spek non evyl of thi fon ; 
Man, I rede, be seynt Jon, 

Of evyl speche that thou be war. 

Quan thou seyst thi evyl seying, 

Be it of eld, be it of 3yng, 

Among many men thi speche may spring, 

And make thin herte of blysse ful bare. 


Therfore I telle the, be seynt Austyn, 
Ther xal non man of evele speche wyn 
But sorwe and schame and moche syn, 
And to his herte meche care. 

Prey we to God and seynt Margerete, 
That we mown our tunges kepe, 
Qwether we wake or slepe, 

And our body fro evele fare. 


God be with trewthe qwer he be, 
I wolde he were in this cuntre. 

A MAN that xuld of trewthe telle, 
With grete lordys he may not dwelle, 
In trewe story as klerkes telle, 

Trewthe is put in low degre. 

In laydyis chaumberes comit he not, 
Ther dar trewthe settyn non fot ; 
Thow he wolde, he may not 

Comyn among the heye mene. 

With men of lawe he hajt non spas ; 
They lovyn trewthe in non plas ; 

c 2 


Me thinkit they ban a rewly grace, 

That trewthe is put at swych degre. 

In holy cherche he may not sytte ; 
Fro man to man they xuln hym flytte ; 
It re wit me sore in myn wytte, 

Of trewthe I have gret pete. 

Religiuus, that xulde be good, 
If trethe cum ther, I holde hym wood ; 
They xuldyn hym rynde cote and hood, 
And make hym bare for to fle. 

A man that xulde of trewthe aspye, 
He must sekyn esylye 
In the bosum of Marye, 

For there he is for sothe. 


I drukke, I dare, so wil I may, 
Quan I thynke on myn endyng day. 

I AM a chyld, and born ful bare, 
And bare out of this word xal fare ; 
3yt am I but wermys ware, 

Thow I clothis go never so gay. 


Thow I be of meche prys, 

Fayr of face, and holdyn wys, 

Myn fleych xal fadyn as flour-de-lys, 

Quan I am ded and leyd in clay. 

Quan I am ded and leyd in ston, 
I xal rotyn fleych and bon, 
Fro myn fryndys I xal gon; 

Cryst help myn sowle quan I ne may. 

Quan I xal al my frendes forsake, 
Cryst schyld me fro the fendes blake ; 
To Jhesu Cryst my sowle I betake, 

He be our help on domys day. 


Gay, gay, to be gay, 
I holde it but a vanite. 

3YNG men that bern hem so gay, 
They think not on domys day, 
Quan they xul stonde in powre aray, 
And for here dedes damnyd be. 

God that made se and sond, 
With blody woundis he xal stond, 


" Come 36 alle on my ryjt bond, 

30 chylderin that han servyd me." 

To wykkyd men Jhesu xal say, 
"36 han led your lyf bothe ny3t and day, 
3our sowle into a wykkyd way, 
Out of myn syte wynd 36. 

Quan I was nakyd, 36 me not clad ; 
Quan I was hungry, 36 me not fad ; 
Quan I was in prisoun and harde bestad, 
36 wold not visite me, 

Therfore myn chylderyn xuln han i-wys 
That ilke joye, that ilke blys, 
That arte ha3t ben, and alwey is, 

Beforn myn angel fayr and fre." 


Be war, sqwyer, ^eman, and page, 
For servyse is non erytage. 

IF thou serve a lord of prys, 
Be not to boystous in thin servys, 
Damne not thin sowle in non wys, 
For servyse is non erytage. 


Wynteris wether and wommanys thowt, 
And lordis love, schaungit oft; 
This is the sothe, if it be sowt, 
For servyse, etc. 

Now thu art gret, to morwe xal I, 
As lordys schaungyn here baly ; 
In thin welthe werk sekyrly, 
For, etc. 

Than serve we God in alle wyse, 
He xal us quityn our servyse, 
And jevyn us 3yftes most of pryse, 
Hevene to ben our erytage. 


A, a, a, a, 

Nunc gaudet Maria. 

MAKY is a lady bryjt, 
Sche hajt a sone of meche myjt, 
Over al this word che is lyjt, 
Bona natalicia. 


Mary is so fayr of face, 
And here sone so ful of grace, 
In hevene he make us a place, 
Cum sua potencia. 

Mary is so fayr and sote, 
And here sone so ful of bote, 
Over al this word he is bote, 
Bona voluntaria. 

Mary is bothe good and kynde, 
Evere on us che hajt mende, 
That the fend xal us not schende 
Cum sua malic-la. 

Mary is qwen of alle thinge, 
And here sone a lovely kynge ; 
God graunt us alle good endynge, 
Regnat del gracia. 


Man, be war, er thou be wo, 
Think on priclo and let him goo. 

PRYDE is out, and pride is ine, 
And pride is rot of every synne, 


And pride wil never blynne, 

Til he hajt browt a man in woo. 

Lucyfer was aungyl bryjt, 

And conqwerour of meche myjt ; 

Throw his pride he les his lyjt, 

And fil doun into endeles woo. 

Wenyst thou for thi gaye clothing, 
And for thin grete othis sweryng, 
To be a lord or a kyng, 

Lytil it xal avayle the too. 

Quan thou xalt to cherche glyde, 
Wermys xuln ete throw thi syde, 
And lytil xal avayle thi pride, 

Or ony synnys that thou hast doo. 

Prey to Cryst, with blody syde, 
And othere woundes grile and wide, 
That he forjeve the thi pride, 

And thi synnys that thou hast doo. 



I may synge of a may, 

Of joyis fyve and merthis most. 

THE ferste joye, as I jou telle, 
With Mary met seynt Gabrielle, 
" Heyl, Mary, I grete the welle, 

With Fader and Sone and Holy Gost." 

The secunde joye, in good fay, 
Was on Crystemesse day, 
Born he was of a may, 
With Fader, etc. 

The thredde joye, withoutyn stryf, 
That blysseful her the was ful ryf, 
Quan he ros fro ded to lyf, 
With Fader, etc. 

The forte joye, in good fay, 
Was upon halewyn thursday, 
He stey to hevene in ryche aray, 

With Fader and Sone and Holy Gost. 

The fyfte joye, withoutyn dene, 
In hevene he crownyd his moder clene, 
That was wol wil the eyr a sene, 
With Fader, etc. 



Man, be war of thin wowyng, 
For weddyng is the longe wo. 

LOKE, er thin herte be set, 
Lok thou wowe er thou be knet ; 
And if thou se thou mow do bet, 

Knet up the haltre and let here goo. 

Wyvys be bothe stowte and bolde, 

Her husbondes ajens hem durn not holcle, 

And if he do, his herte is colde, 

How so evere the game go. 

Wedewis be wol fals i-wys, 
For cum bothe halse and kys, 
Til onys purs pikyd is, 

And they seyn, Go, boy, goo. 

Of madenys I wil seyn but lytil, 
For they be bothe fals and fekyl, 
And under the tayl they ben ful tekyl, 

A twenty devele name, let hem goo. 



Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, 
Deo patri sit gloria. 

Salvator mundi, Domine, 
Fader of hevene, blyssid thou be, 
Thou gretyst a mayde with on ave, 
Que vocatur Maria. 

Adesto nunc propicius, 
Thou sendyst thi sone swete Jhesus, 
Man to become for love of us, 
Deo patri sit gloria. 

Ne mentem sompnus oprimat, 
Betwyx an ox and an as 
Cryst hym self born he was 
De virgine Maria. 

Te reformator sensuum, 
Bothe lytil and mekil and alle a[nd] sum 
Wolcum the tyme that now is com, 
Deo patri sit gloria. 

Gloria tibi, Domine, 
Thre personys in trenyte, 
Blyssid mot they alle be, 
Deo patri sit yloria. 



Now el el el el el el el el el el el el, 
Mary was gret with Gabriel. 

MARY moder, meke and mylde, 
Fro schame and synne that 30 us schyllde, 
For gret on grownd 36 gon with childe, 
Gabriele nuncio. 

Mary moder, be not adred, 
Jhesu is in 3our body bred, 
And of 3our bryst he wil be fed, 
Cum pudoris lilio. 

Mary moder, the frewit of the 
For us was naylid on a tre, 
In hevene is now his majeste, 
Fidget resurreccio. 

Mary moder, the thredde day 
Up he ros, as I 3ow say, 
To helle he tok the 173 te way, 
Motufertur proprio. 

Mary moder, after thin sone, 
Up thou steyist with hym to wone ; 
The aungele wern glad quan thou were come 
In celi palacio. 



I SYNG a of a mayden 

that is makeles, 
Kyng of alle kynges 

to here sone che ches. 
He cam also stylle 

ther his moder was, 
As dew in Aprylle 

that fallyt on the gras. 
He cam also stylle 

to his moderes bowr, 
As dew in Aprille 

that fallyt on the flour. 
He cam also stylle 

ther his moder lay, 
As dew in Aprille 

that fallyt on the spray. 
Moder and maydyn 

was never non but che ; 
Wei may swych a lady 

Godes moder be. 



I HAVE a gentil cook 

crowyt me day, 
He doth me rysyn erly 

my matynis for to say. 
I have a gentil cook, 

comyn he is of gret, 
His comb is of red corel, 

his tayil is of get. 
I have a gentyl cook, 

comyn he is of kynde, 
His comb is of red scorel, 

his tayl is of hide; 
His legges ben of asour, 

so gentil and so smale, 
His spores arn of sylver qwyt 

into the wortewale ; 
His eynyn arn of cristal, 

lokyn al in aumbyr ; 
And every ny3t he perchit hym 

in myn ladyis chaumbyr. 



Omnes gentes plaudite. 

I saw myny bryddis setyn on a tre ; 

He tokyn here fley3t and flowyn away, 

With, Ego dixi, have good day ! 

Many qwyte federes ha3t the pye : 

I may noon more syngyn, my lyppis arn so drye. 

Manye qwyte federis ha3t the swan : 

The more that I drynke, the lesse good I can. 

Ley stykkys on the fer, wyl mot is brenne ; 

3eve us onys drynkyn er we gon henne. 


ADAM lay i-bowndyn, 

bowndyn in a bond, 
Fowre thowsand wynter 

thowt he not to long ; 
And al was for an appil, 

an appil that he tok, 
As clerkes fyndyn wretyn 

in here book. 
Ne hadde the appil take ben, 

the appil taken ben, 


Ne hadde never our lady 

a ben hevene quen. 
Blyssid be the tyme 

that appil take was ! 
Therfore we mown syngyn 

Deo gracias. 


I HAVE a jong suster 

fer be3ondyn the se, 
Many be the drowryis 

that che sente me. 
Che sente me the cherye 

withoutyn ony ston ; 
And so che dede [the] dowe 

withoutyn ony bon ; 
Sche sente me the brere 

withoutyn ony rynde ; 
Sche bad me love my lemman 

withoute longgyng. 
How xuld ony cherye 

be withoute ston ? 
And how xuld ony dowe 

ben withoute bon ? 


How xuld ony brere 

ben withoute ryncle ? 
How xuld y love myn lemman 

without longyng ? 
Quan the cherye was a flour, 

than hadde it non ston ; 
Quan the dowe was an ey, 

than hadde it non bon ; 
Quan the brere was onbred, 

than hadde it non rynd ; 
Quan the maydyn ha3t that che lovit, 

che is without longyng. 


Al the meryere is that place, 

The sunne of grace hym schynit in. 

THE sunne of grace hym schynit in, 

in on day quan it was mor[we], 
Quan our Lord God born was, 

withoute wem or sorwe. 
The sunne of grace hym schynit in, 

on a day quan it was pryme, 
Quan our Lord God born was, 

so wel he knew his tyme. 


The sunue of grace hym schynit in, 

on a day quan it was non, 
Quan our Lord God born was, 

and on the rode don. 
The sunne of grace hym schynit in, 

on a day quan it was undy[rn]. 
Quan our Lord God born was, 

and to the herte stongyn. 


I HAVE a newe gardyn, 

and newe is begunne ; 
Swych another gardyn 

know I not under sunne. 
In the myddis of my gardyn 

is a peryr set, 
And it wele non pere bern, 

but a pere jenet. 
The fayrest mayde of this toun 

preyid me 
For to gryffyn here a gryf 

of myn pery tre ; 
Quan I hadde hem gryffid 

alle at here wille, 

D 2 


The wyn and 4he ale 

che dede in fille. 
And I gryffid here a g[ryf] 

ry3t up in here honde, 
And be that day xx. wowkes 

it was qwyk in here w[ombe]. 
That day twelfve monith 

that mayde I mette, 
Che seyd it was a pere robert, 

but non pere jon[et]. 


OUT of the blosme sprang a thorn, 
Quan God hym self wold be born, 
He let us nevere be forlorn, 

That born was of Marie. 

Ther sprang a welle al at here fot, 
That al this word is t[o]rnyd to good, 
Quan Jhesu Cryst took fleych and blod 
Of his moder Marie. 

Out of the welle sprang a strem 
Fro patriarck to Jerusalem, 
Til Cryst hymself ajen it nem 
Of his moder, etc. 


In wynter quan the frost hym fres, 
A powre beddyng our Lord hym ches ; 
Betwyin an ox and an as 
Godes sone born he was 
Of his, etc. 

It was upon the twelwe day, 
Ther come thre kynges in ryche aray, 
To seke Cryst ther he lay 
And his, etc. 

Thre kynges out of dyves londe, 
Swythe comyn with herte stronge, 
The chyld to sekyn underfonge, 
That born was of Marie. 

The sterre led hem a ryte way 
To the chyld ther he lay ; 
He help us bothe ny3t and day, 
That born was of Marie. 

Baltyzar was the ferste kyng, 
He browte gold to his offeryng, 
For to presente that ryche kyng, 
And his moder Marie. 


Melchiar was the secunde kyng, 
He browte incens to his offering, 
For to present that ryche kyng, 
And his, etc. 

Jasper was the thred kyng, 
He browte myrre to his ofFeryng, 
For to presente that ryche kyng, 
and his, etc. 

Ther they offend here presens, 
With gold and myrre and francincens, 
And clerkes redyn in here seqwens 
in Ephifanye. 

Knel we down hym beforn, 

And prey we to hym that now is born, 

And let us never be forlorn, 

that born was of Marye. 


Of alle the spyces that I knowe, 
Blyssid be the qwete flour. 

QWETE is bothe semely and sote, 
Of alle spyces that is bote, 


The vertu spryngit out of the rote, 

so blyssid be the qw[e]te flour. 

The secunde vers I sey beforn, 
Qwete is kyng of every corn ; 
Jhesu hym self for us was born, 
so blyssid, etc. 

The thredde vers, with Godes grace, 
Qw[e~]te is good in every place, 
In qwete is porteyidid Godes face, 
so, etc. 

The forte vers, withoute stryf, 
Of qwete is mad the bred of lyf, 
Us to receyvyn in clene lyf, 
so, etc. 

The fyfte vers, withoute skorn, 
Qwete is a spyce, a wol good on, 
King that is of every corn, 
so, etc. 

The sexte vers, I xal 3ou seye, 
Jhesu Cryst that sit on heye 
He let us never for hunger deye, 

so blyssid be the qwete flour. 



The sterre hym schon bothe nyjt and day, 
To lede thre kynges ther our Lord lay. 

JHESU was born in Bedlem Jude, 
Of mayde Mary, thus fynde we ; 
Out of the est come kynges thre 

with ryche presentes, as I jow say. 

As they went forth in here pas, 
The sterre schon al in here fas 
As bryjt as golde withine the glas, 

to Bedlem to ledyn hem the way. 

Kyng Herowdes was most of pryse, 

He seyde to tho thre kynges that wern so wys 

" Go and sekit me jone chyld of pryse, 

and comit ageyn be me, I jou pray. 

And I myself xal with jow wynde, 
The chyld to worchepe, the child to fynde, 
And worchepyn hym with al myn mynde, 
with al the onour that I may." 

Q,uan they kemyn into that plas 
Ther Jhesu with his moder was, 


They settyn hern doun and made solas, 
and every kyng to other gan say. 

Quan they haddyn oiferid up here presens, 
With gold and myrre and francincens, 
As clerkes redyn in here sequens, 

he took it of hem, and seyd not nay. 

Quan they hadde offerid here offeryng 
To Jhesu that is hevene kyng, 
Of an aungyl they hadd warnyng, 

to wendyn horn be another way. 

The aungyl cam fro hevene kyng, 

And bad tho thre kynges ageyn horn wynd, 

Therm to dwelle, therin to ben, 

til kyng Herowdes endyng day. 

Kyng Herowde wox wol ille, 

For tho thre kynges comyn hym not tille, 

For to fulfille his wykkyd wille, 

and to his knytes he gan say. 

Kyng Herowdes wox wroth anon, 
The chylderin of Israel he dide slon, 
He wende Jhesu hadde ben the ton, 
and 3yt he falyid of his pray. 


Kyng Herowdes deyid, and went to helle, 
For swete Jhesus that we spelle ; 
God saf us fro the peynis of helle, 

and fro the wykkid fyndes pray. 


Robynn lyth in grerie wode bowndyn. 
I HEKDE a carpyng of a clerk 

al at 3one wodes ende, 
Of gode Robyn and Gandeleyn 

was ther non other gynge. 
Stronge thevys wern the chylderin non, 

but bowmen gode and hende ; 
He wentyn to wode to getyn hem fleych, 

if God wold it hem sende. 
Al day wentyn the chylderin too, 

and fleych fowndyn he non, 
Til it were ageyn evyn 

the chylderin wold gon horn ; 
Half a honderid of fat falyf der 

he comyn ajon, 
And alle he wern fayr and fat inow, 

but markyd was ther non. 
Be dere Gode, seyde gode [Robyn], 

hereof we xul have on. 


Robyn went his joly bo we, 

therin he set a flo, 
The fattest der of alle the herte 

he clef a- to. 
He hadde not the der i-slawe 

ne half out of the hyde, 
Ther cam a schrewde arwe out of the west 

that felde Robertes pryde. 
Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and west, 

be every syde, 
" Hoo hat myn mayster slayin ? 

ho hat don this dede ? 
Xal I never out of grene wode go 

ti[l] I se sydis blede." 
Gandeleyn lokyd hym est and lokyd west, 

and sowt under the sunne, 
He saw a lytil boy he clepyn 

Wrennok of Doune ; 
A good bowe in his hond, 

a brod arewe therine, 
And fowre and xx. goode arwys 

trusyd in a thrumme. 
" Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn, 

herof thu xalt han summe. 
Be war the, war the, Gandeleyn, 

herof thou gyst plente." 


"Evere on for another," seyde Gandeleyn, 

"mysaunter have he xal fle." 
" Qwerat xal our marke be ? " 

seyde Gandeleyn. 
" Every che at otheris herte," 

seyde Wrennok ageyn. 
" Ho xal 3eve the ferste schote ?" 

seyde Gandeleyn. 
" And I xal 3ewe the on beforn," 

seyd Wrennok ageyn. 
Wrennok schette a ful good schote, 

and he schet not to hye, 
Throw the sanchothis of his bryk 

it towchyd neyther thye. 
"Now hast thou jovyn me on beforn," 

al thus to Wrennok seyde he, 
" And throw thu my3t of our lady 

a bettere I xal 3eve the." 
Gandeleyn bent his goode bowe, 

and set therin a flo, 
He schet throw his grene certyl, 

his herte he clef on too. 
" Now xalt thow never 3elpe, Wrennok, 

at ale ne at wyn, 
That thou hast slawe goode Robyn 

and his knave Gandeleyn ; 


Now xalt thou never jelpe, Wrennok, 

at wyn ne at ale, 
That thou hast slawe goode Robyn, 

and Gandeleyyn his knawe." 
Robyn lyjth in grene wode bowdyn. 



eya nobis annus est, 
Virginis ex utero, 

gloria, laudes, 
Deus homo factus est, et immortalis. 

Sine viri semine, 

eya nobis, etc. 
Natus est de virgine, 

gloria, laudes, 
Deus homo, etc. 

Sine viri coitu, 

eya nobis annus est, 
Pleno sancto spiritu, 

gloria, laudes, 
Deus homo factus est, etc. 


Syne viri copia, 

eya nobis, etc. 

Natus est ex Maria, 

gloria, laudes, 

Deus nobis factus est, et immortalis. 

In hoc festo de termino, 

eya nobis annus est, 

Benedicamus Domino, 

gloria, laudes, 

Deus homo factus est, et immortalis. 


A NEW 3er, a newe jer, a chyld was i-born 
Us for to savyn that al was for-lorn, 

So blyssid be the tyme. 

The fader of hevene his owyn sone he sent, 
His kyngdam for to cleymyn. 

So blyssid be the tyme. 

Al in a clene maydyn our Lord was i-ly3t, 
Us for to savyn with al his myjt. 
So blyssid, etc. 



Al of a clene maydyn our Lord was i-born, 
Us for to savyn that al was for-lorn. 
So blyssid, etc. 

Lullay, lullay, lytil chyld, myn owyn dere fode, 
How xalt thow sufferin be naylid on the rode ? 
So, etc. 

Lullay, lullay, lytil chyld, myn owyn dere smerte, 
How xalt thow sufFerin the scharp spere to thi herte ? 
So, etc. 

Lullay, lullay, lytyl child, I synge al for thi sake, 
Many on is the scharpe schour to thi body is schape. 
So, etc. 

Lullay, lullay, lytyl child, fayre happis the befalle, 
How xal thou sufFerin to drynke ezyl and galle ? 
So, etc. 

Lullay, lullay, lytil chyld, I synge al beforn, 
How xalt thou sufFerin the scharp garlong of thorn ? 
So, etc. 

Lullay, lullay, lytil chyld, qwy wepy thou so sore ? 
And art thou bothin God and man, quat woldyst thoi 
be more ? 

So, etc. 


Blyssid be the armys the chyld bar abowte, 
And also the tetes the chyld on sowkid. 
So, etc. 

Blyssid be the moder, the chyld also, 
With benedtcamus Domino. 

So blyssid be the tyme. 


Moder, qwyt as lylie flour, 
jour lullyng lassyt myn langour. 

As I me ros in on morwenyng, 
Myn thowt was on a mayde 3ynge, 
Che song aslepe with here lullynge 
Here dere sone, our Savyour. 

As che hym tok al in here lap, 
He tok that maydyn be the pap, 
And tok therof a ry3t god nap 

And sok his fille of that licour. 

To his moder than he gan say, 
" For this mylk me muste day, 
It is myn kynde therwith to play, 

My swete moder, myn paramour." 


That mayde frely began to synge, 
And in here song che mad murnynge, 
That here sone, that is our kynge, 

Xuld schred his blod with gret dolour. 

"3our wepyng, moder, grevit me sore, 
But I wold deye, 36 wern forlore ; 
Do wey, moder, and wepe non more ; 

3our lullyng lassit myn langour." 


Keges de Saba venient, 
Aurum, tus, myrram, efferent. 

Now is the twelthe day i-come, 

The Fader and Sone togeder arn nome, 

The Holy Gost, as they wern wone, 

in fere. 
God send us good newe 3ere. 

I wil 3ou synge with al myn my3t, 

Of a chyld so fayr in syjt, 

A maydyn hym bar this ender nyjt, 

so stylle; 
As it was his wylle. 


Thre kynges out of Galylie 
Kemyn to Bedlem that cete, 
For to takyn in to that se, 

be nyte ; 
It was a ful fayr syte. 

As they kerne for3t with here offeryng, 
They mette with Herowdes, that mody kyng ; 
He askyd hem of here comyng, 

that tyde, 
And thus to hem he seyde : 

"Fro qwens come 36, kynges thre?" 
" Out of the est, as thou mayst se, 
To sekyn hym that evere xal be, 

throw ryte, 
Lord and kyng of myte." 

" Quan je han at that kyng i-be, 
Comit ageyn this weye be me, 
And tel me the sytes that han se ; 

I praye, 
36 gon non other waye." 

Of Herowdys, that mody kyng, 

He tokyn here leve, of eld and 3yng ; 


And foth they wente with here offeryng 

in syjte, 
And ther wey come be nyte. 

Quan they comyn into the plas 
Ther Jhesu with his moder was, 
Thei made offeryng with gret solas, 

not ferre, 
With gold, incens, and myrre. 

As they wern horn-ward i-went, 
The Fader of hevene an aungyl sent 
To tho thre kynges that made present, 

or daye, 
And thus to hem gan saye. 

" My Lord hajt warnyd 3011 of 3our fon, 
Be kyng Herowdes that 36 not gon ; 
For if 36 don, he wil 3011 slon, 

and traye ; 
36 gon another waye." 

Quan they comyn horn to here cuntre, 
Blythe and glad they wern alle thre 
Of the sytes that they had se, 

be nyte, 

Jhesu and Mari bryte. 

E 2 


With tresoun to us gan he sayn, 
He trowid Jhesu to han slayn ; 
Into Egypt thei went ful playn, 

be syde ; 
Josep was here gyde. 

Into Bedlem thei gunne pas, 

The sterre gan schynyn in here fas 

Brytter than evere schon sunne in glas, 

in londe, 
Jhesu with Mari thei fonde. 

Kyng Herowdes he made his vow, 
Gret plente of chylderin he slow, 
He wende ther xuld a be Jhesu ; 

I saye, 
He falyid of his praye. 

Herowdes was wod in ryalte ; 

He slow schylderin ryjt gret plente 

In Bedlem, that fayre cete, 

with stryf; 
Ne left he non on lyf. 

The chylderin of Israel cryid " wa, wa ! " 
The moderis of Bedlem cryid "ba, ba!" 


Herowdes low, and seyd, "a ha! 

that qwede, 
The kyng of Juwys is dede." 

Almyty God in mageste, 

In on God personys thre, 

Bryng us to the blysse that is so fre, 

in fere ; 
And send us a good newe jere. 

Reges de Saba venient, aurum, his, mirra, offere[_ni\. 


As I went throw a gardyn grene, 

I fond an erber makyd fill newe ; 

A fayrere syte had I non sene, 

On every tre song a turtil tie we. 

Therm a womman bry3t of hewe, 

Che seyde in here song not lest, 

This was he[re] carpyng, as I knewe, 
Verbum carofactum est. 

I askyd that mayde quat che ment, 

Che bad me abydyn and I myjt lere 


To here song than tok I intent, 

Che seyde a song woys clere. 

" The pryns that is without pere 

Is born and leyd betwyn tweyn best ; 

Therfore I synge, as thou myjt here, 
Verbum caro factum, est." 

In that wone for3t gan I wynde, 

A. semely song than herd I tho, 

Of thre schepperdes that wern ful hynde, 
Gloria in excelsis Deo. 

I wold not the hadde ferryd me froo, 

Wol faste after hem than gan I prest ; 

Thei told me that they sungyn soo, 
For verbum caro factum est. 

3yt ferthere more in that fryth, 

I saw thre kynges comyn corown ; 

I sped me faste to speke hem wyt, 

And to tho lordes I knelid adown. 

Tho kynges curteys to me gun rown, 

And seydyn thei woldyn fare prest, 

" To Bedlem bour now arn we bown, 
For verbum caro factum est" 


This is as meclie for to say, 

As Godes sone bccum is fleych, 

He was born this ilke day, 

A blysful weye us for to wych. 

That may now withoutyn mys, 

Here I wyte bothe most and lest, 

For che was the cause i-wys. 

Of verbum carofactum est. 

Godis sone becomyn is fleych, 

That bote ha}t of al our bale, 
A blysful weye us for to wych, 

That mayde hym herberwyd in here hale. 

Che curid that lovely in here sale, 

Che hyld that hyndin in here rest, 

With trewe tunge che teld the tale, 
For verbum caro factum est. 

Verbum caro is to say 

That Godes sone becomyn is man ; 
He was born this ilke day, 

To savyn us fro the fend Sathan. 

That may that is qwyt as swan, 

Che fed that Lord upon here bryst ; 

Theifore I synge 3ou as I can, 
Verbum caro factum cst. 



BE the way wanderyng as I went, 

Sore I scyid for sorwenis sad, 

For harde happys that I have hent, 

Murnyng makyd me masyd and mad. 

To a lettere alone I me ledde, 

That wel was wretyn upon a wal ; 
A blysful word theron I redde, 

Was, evere more thank God of al. 

3yt I redde wel ferthere more, 

With trewe intent I took thertyl, 

Cryst may wel our stat restore, 

It is not to strywe agen his wil. 

He may us save, and that is skyl, 

Thynk ry3t wel we ben his thral ; 

Quat thou tholyst, wo or yl, 

Evere more thank God of al. 

If that thou waxe blynd or lame, 

Or ony evyl to the be set, 
Thynk ry3t wel it is non schame, 

With swych grace God hajt the gret. 


In sorwe and care if thou be set, 

And thi ryches begynne to falle ; 

I can not se thou may do bet 

Than evere more thank God of al. 

If thou welde thi wordele goodes, 

And ry3t ryally leve in thi rest, 

Fayr of face, frely of fode, 

Ther is non swych be est ne west. 

God wil sende ryjt as hym leste, 

For ryches tranyt3 as a bal ; 
In ilke a manere this is the beste, 

Evere more to thank God of al 

If thi good begynne to pase, 

And thou waxe a powre man, 
Thak good cumfort and mak good fase, 

And trust on hym that al began. 

Of God ferst our good began, 

He may us reve bothe bour and halle ; 
Betere counsel I non can, 

Than evere more thank God of al. 

Thynk on Job that was so ryche, 

He wex powre fro day to day. 


His bestes drenkelyd in every dyche, 
His good wansid al away. 

He was put in a powre aray, 

Neyther in purpyl ne in palle, 

In sympel wede, as I 3011 say, 

And evere he thankyd God of alle. 

For Godes love, so do 36, 

He may 3011 bothe 3eve and take ; 
Quat myschyf 36 in be, 

He ha3t my3t 3our wo to slake. 

Ful good amendes he wil us make, 

If we to hym wil crye or callc ; 

Quat wel or wo we ben in take, 

Evere more thank God of al. 

If thi fryndes fro the fayle, 

And deth ha3t reft hem of here lyf ; 
Qwerfore xuldyst thou wepyn or wayle, 

It is not to stryve ageyn his wyl. 

Thynk he made bothe man and wyf, 

And that we alle ben his thral ; 

Quat wo thou sufferyst or how thou thryf, 
Evere more thank God of al. 


Dyves sondes God hajt us sent, 

Here and also in othere place ; 

Tak we hem in good atent, 

The sunnere God wil sendyn us grace. 

If jour body be bowndyn in bas, 

Lok 5our herte be good and stal ; 

Thynk he is 3yt ther he was, 

And evere more thank God of al. 

For Godes love be not as a chyld, 

Ne mak thi self not to stowt, 
But take with god herte and myld 

The good that God sendit al abowt. 

Than dar I seyn, withoute dowt, 

In hevene blysse is. mad your halle ; 

Ryche and powre that 36 lowe lowt, 

And evere more thank God of alle. 

This wordele good xuld meres, 

And eche man kynde wold be, 

And partyn abowtyn of here ryches 
To hem that arn in poverte. 

A wonder thing now may we sene, 

That kynde love adoun is falle ; 

Non betere counsel can I mene, 

Than evere to thank God of alle. 



Worchyp we bothe more and lesce 
Crystes body in furme of bred. 

IT is bred fro hevene cam, 
Fleych and blod of Mary it nam, 
For the synnys of Adam, 

He sched his blod that was so red. 

He that onworthi this bred ete, 
The peyne of helle he xal gete, 
My swete body awey to lete, 

And makyn his sowle to ben ded. 

He that this bred hajt in myride, 
He xal levyn withoutyn ende ; 
This is bred to jevyn a frende, 

Withoutyn qwyte, withine red. 

On Schyre-Thursday, al at the messe, 
To hese desipele he seyde thisse, 
" Etyjt this bred, myn body it isse, 
Lok therof 36 han non dred." 

Aftyrvvard at here soper, 

He tok the wyn that was so cler, 


And blyssid it with mylde cher, 

" This is myn blod that is so red." 

The Juwys wern bothe wylde and wode, 
He puttyn Jhesu upon the rode, 
For to spyllyn his herte blode ; 

For manys synne he sufFerid ded. 

Jhesu, lynd us this bred to ete, 
And alle our synnys for to forjete, 
And in hevene a place to gete, 

Throw the vertu of this bred. 


Synge we, synge we, 
Gloria tibi, Domine. 

MAN, if thou hast synnyd owth, 
Chaunge redely thi thowth, 
Thynk on hym that ha3t the bowth, 
So dere upon the rode tre. 

Thynk he cam for to ben born, 
To beyin ajen that was forlorn, 
Many a m 1 3er beforn, 

Out of his owyn mageste. 


Thynk the Juwis quan hym tokyn, 
Hese desipele hym forsokyn, 
Alle the veynys on hym schokyn, 

For dowt of deth wold he not fle. 

Thynk the cros he dedyn hym here, 
Garlond of thorn he dedyn hym were, 
False tretowres that they were, 

Til he kemyn ther he wolde be. 

Thynk he dedyn hym on the rode ; 
Thynk it was al for our goode ; 
Thynk the Juwys wyxin wode, 

On hym they haddyn non pete. 

Thynk how sore he was bowndyn ; 
Thynk he sufferid harde woundys, 
Of tho false helle howndys, 

With schorge and spere and naylys thre. 

Thynk, man, on the werste of alle, 
He jevyn hym drynkyn ezyl and galle, 
Hely for peyne he gan to calle 
To his fader in trenite. 

Thynk, man, wytterly, 
Think he bowt the bytterly ; 
Forsake thi synne and to hym cry, 

That he have mercy upon the. 



SEYNT Stevene was a clerk 

in kyng Herowdes halle, 
And servyd him of bred and cloth, 

as every kyng befalle. 
Stevyn out of kechoun cam 

with boris hed on honde, 
He saw a sterre was fayr and bryjt 

over Bedlem stonde. 
He kyst adoun the bores hed, 

and went into the halle, 
" I forsak the, kyng Herowdes, 

and thi werkes alle. 
I forsak the, kyng Herowdes, 

and thi werkes alle, 
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born, 

is beter than we alle." 
" Quat eylyt the, Stevene : 

quat is the befalle r 
Lakkyt the eyther mete or drynk 

in kyng Herod wes halle?" 
" Lakit me neyther mete ne drynk 

in kyng Herowdes halle ; 
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born, 

is beter than we alle." 


Quat eylyt the, Stevyn ? art thou wod ? 

or thou gynnyst to brede ? 
Lakkyt the eyther gold or fe, 

or ony ryche wede ?" 
" Lakyt me neyther gold ne fe, 

ne non ryche wede ; 
Ther is a chyld in Bedlem born, 

xal helpyn us at our nede." 
"That is also soth, Stevyn, 

also soth i-wys, 
As this capoun crowe xal 

that lyth here in myn dych." 
That word was not so sone seyd, 

that word in that halle, 
The capoun crew Christus natus est 

among tho lordes alle. 
" Rysyt up, myn turmentowres, 

be to and al be on, 
And ledit Stevyn out of this town, 

and stonit hym with ston." 
Tokyn he Stevene, 

and stonyd hym in the way 
And therfore is his evyn 

on Crystes owyn day. 


Nowel el el el el el el el el el el el el el el el. 

MARY moder, cum and se, 
Thi sone is naylyd on a tre, 
Hand and fot, he may not go, 

His body is woundyn al in woo. 

Thi swete sone, that thu hast born 
To save mankynde that was forlorn, 
His hed is wrethin in a thorn, 

His blysful body is al to -torn. 

Quan he this tale began to telle, 
Mary wold non lenger dwelle, 
But hyid here faste to that hylle, 

Ther Jhesu his blod began to spy He. 

" Myn swete sone, that art me dere, 
Qwy han men hangyd the here ? 
Thi hed is wrethin in a brere, 

Myn lovely sone, qwer is thin chere. 

Thin swete body that in me rest, 
Thin comely mowth that I have kest, 


Now on rode is mad thi nest ; 

Leve chyld, quat is me best?" 

" Womman, to Jon I the betake ; 
Jon, kyp this womman for myn sake ; 
For synful sowlys my deth I take, 

On rode I hange for manys sake. 

" This game alone me muste play, 
For synful sowles I deye to day ; 
Ther is non wyjt that goth be the way, 
Of myn peynys can wel say." 


A, a, a, a, 

Nunc gaudet ecclesia. 

LESTENYT3, lordynges, bothe grete and smale, 
I xal 3011 telyn a wqnder tale, 
How holy cherche was brow[t] in bale, 
Cum, magna injuria. 

The greteste clerk of al this lond, 
Of Cauntyrbery, 36 understond, 
Slawyn he was [be] wykkyd hond, 
Demonis potencia. 


Knytes kemyn fro Hendry kyng, 
\Vykkyd men, withoute lesyng, 
Ther they dedyn a wonder thing, 
Ferventes insania. 

They sowtyn hym al abowtyn, 
Withine the paleys and withoutyn 
Of Jhesu Cryst hadde they non dowte, 
In sua malicia. 

They openyd here mowthis wonder wyde, 
To Thomeys they spokyn mekyl pryde, 
"Here, tretour, thou xalt abyde, 
Ferens mortis tedia." 

Thomas answerid with mylde chere, 
" If 36 wil me slon in this manere, 
Let hem pasyn alle tho arn here, 
Sine contumilia" 

Beforn his aunter he knelyd adoun, 
Ther they gunne to paryn his crown ; 
He sterdyn the braynys up and doun, 
Optans celi gaudia. 

F 2 


The turmentowres abowtyn sterte, 
With dedly wondys thei gunne him hurte ; 
Thomas deyid in moder cherche, 
Pergens ad celestia. 

Moder, clerk, wedue, and wyf, 
Worchepe 36 Thomeys in al 3010- lyf ; 
For lij. poyntes he les his lyf, 
Contra regis consilia. 


Man, be glad in halle and hour, 
This tyme was born our Savyour. 

IN this tyme Cryst ha3t us sent 
His owyn sone in present, 
To dwelle with us verement, 

To ben our helpe and socour. 

In this tyme ros a sterre cler, 
Over Bedlem, as bry3t as fer, 
In tokenyng that he hadde non per, 

Lord God, kyng, and emperour. 

In this tyme it is befalle, 
He that deyid for us alle, 


Born he was in assis stalle, 

Of Mary, that swete flour. 

In this tyme kemyn thre kynges, 
He kemyn fro fer with ryche thinges, 
For to makyn here offerynges 

On here knen with gret honour. 

In this tyme prey we 

To hym that deyid on the tre, 

On us have mercy and pete, 

And bryng us alle to his tour. 


M and A, and E and I, 
Syngyn I wyl a newe song. 

IT wern fowre letterys of purposy, 
M and A, R and I, 
Tho wern letteris of Mary, 
Of horn al our joye sprong. 

On the mownt of Calvory, 
With M and A, R and I, 
There he betyn his bryte body 

With schorges that wern bothe scharp and long. 


Our swete lady stod hym by, 
With M and A, and R, and I, 
Che wept water with here ey, 

And alwey the blod folwyd among. 

God that sit above the sky, 
With M and A, and R, and I, 
Save now al this cumpany, 

And send us joye and blysse ammong. 


How hey, it is [non] les, 

I clar not seyn, quan che sey$ pes. 

3YNG men, I warne 3011 every chon, 

Elde wywys tak 36 non, 

For I myself have on at horn ; 

I dare not seyn, quan che sey3t pes. 

Quan I curn fro the plow at non, 
In a reven dych myn mete is don, 
I dar not askyn our dame a spon ; 
I dar not, etc. 

If I aske our dame bred, 

Che takyt a staf and brekit myn hed, 


And doth me rennyn under the led ; 
I dar not, etc. 

If I aske our dame fleych, 
Che brekyt myn hed with a dych ; 
"Boy, thou art not wo^t a reych;" 
I dar, etc. 

If I aske our dame chese, 

" Boy/' che sey3t, " al at ese ; 

Thou art not worjt half a pese." 

I dar not sey, quan che seyjt pes. 


Synge we, synge we, 
Regina cell, letare. 

HOLY maydyn, blyssid thou be, 
Godes sone is born of the ; 
The fader of hevene worchepe we, 
Regina celt, letare. 

Heyl, wyf ! heyl, maydyn ! heyl, brytj of ble ! 
Heyl, dowter ! heyl, suster ! heyl, ful of pete 
Heyl, chosyn to tho personys thre ! 
Regina, etc. 


Thou art empresse of hevene so fre, 
Worth! maydyn in mageste ; 
Now worchepe we the trenyte, 
Regina, etc. 

Lady so lovely, so goodly to see, 
So buxsum in thi body to be, 
Thou art his moder for humylite, 
Regina cell, letare. 

These ben curteys kynges of solunte, 
They worchepyd thi sone with umylite ; 
Mylde Mary, thus rede we. 
Regina, etc. 

So gracius, so precyows in ryalte ; 
Thus jentyl, thus good, thus fynde we 
Ther is non swych in non cuntre. 
Regina } etc. 

And therfore knel we doun on our kne, 
This blyssid berthe worchepe we ; 
This is a song of humylyte. 



Synge we no we alle and sum, 
Ave, rex gentes Anglorum. 

A NEWE song I wil begynne, 

Of kyng Edmund that was so fre, 
How he deyid withoute synne, 

And bowdyn his body was to a tre. 
With arwys scharpe they gunne hym prykke, 

For non rewthe wold they lete ; 
As dropys of reyn they comyn thikke, 

And every arwe with other gan mete. 
And his hed also thei of smette, 

Among the breres thei it kest ; 
A wolf it kepte withoutyn lette, 

A blynd man fond it at the last. 
Prey we to that worthi kyng 

That sufferid ded this same day, 
He saf us, bothe eld and jyng, 

And scheld us fro the fendes fray. 


Man, be wys, and arys, 
And thynk on lyf that lestenit ay. 

THYNK, man, qwerof thou art wrout, 
Powre and nakyd thou were heder browt, 
Thynk how Cryst thi sowle ha3t bowt, 
And fond to servyn hym to pay. 


Thynk, man, on the dere jeres thre ; 
For hunger deyid gret plente, 
Powre and ryche, bond and fre, 

Thei leyn dede in every way. 

Thynk, man, on the pestelens tweye ; 
In every cuntre men gunne deye ; 
Deth left neyther for lowe ne heye, 
But lettyd hem of here pray. 

Deth is wonder coveytous ; 
Quan he eomit in a manys hous, 
He takit the good man and his spows, 
And bryngit hem in powre aray. 

After cam a wyndes blast, 
That made many a man agast ; 
Stefve stepelys that stodyn fast, 

The weyke fyllyn and blewyn away. 

Many merveylis God ha3t sent, 
Of lytenyng and of thunder dent ; 
At the frere camys ha3t it hent, 

At Lynne toun, it is non nay. 

Lytenyng at Lynne dede gret harm, 
Of tolbothe and of fryre carm ; 


Thei stondyn wol cole, that stodyn wol warm ; 
It made hem a wol sory fray. 

Lok, man, how thou ledyst thi lyf, 
And how thou spendyst thi wyttes v. ; 
Go to cherche, and do the schryf, 

And bryng thi sowle in redy way. 


Go bet, peny, go bet, go, 

For thou mat makyn bothe frynd and fo. 

PENY is an hardy knyjt ; 
Peny is mekyl of myjt ; 
Peny of wrong he makyt ryjt, 

In every cuntre qwer he goo. 

Thow I have a man i-slawe, 
And forfetyd the kynges lawe, 
I xal fyndyn a man of lawe 

Wyl takyn myn peny and let me goo. 

And if I have to don fer or ner, 
And peny be myn massanger, 
Than am I non thing in dwer 

My cause xal be wol i-doo. 


And if I have pens bothe good and fyn, 
Men \vyl byddyn me to the wyn ; 
"That I have xal be thin;" 

Sekyrly thei wil seyn so. 

And quan I have non in myn purs, 

Peny bet, ne peny wers, 

Of me thei holdyn but lytil fors, 

" He was a man, let hym goo." 


We ben chapmen ly^t of fote, 
The fowle weyis for to fle. 

bern abowtyn non cattes skynnys, 
Pursis, perlis, sylver pynnis, 
Smale wympel for ladyis chynnys ; 

Damsele, bey sum ware of me. 

I have a poket for the nonys, 
Therine ben tweyne precyous stonys ; 
Damsele, hadde 36 asayid hem onys, 

36 xuld the rathere gon with me. 

I have a jelyf of Godes sonde, 
Withoutyn fyt it can stonde ; 


It can smytyn and ha3t non honde ; 
Ryd yourself quat it may be. 

I have a powder for to selle, 
Quat it is can I not telle ; 
It makit maydenys wombys to swelle ; 
Therof I have a quantyte. 


Ave marts stella, 

the sterre on the see, 
Dei mater alma, 

blyssid mot xe be. 
Atque semper virgo, 

pray thi sone for me, 
Felix celi porta, 

that I may come to the. 
Gabriel, that archangyl, 

he was massanger, 
So fayre he gret our lady, 

with an ave so cler. 
Heyl be thou, Mary, 

be thou, Mary, 
Ful of Godes grace, 

and qwyn of mercy. 


Alle that am to grete, 

withoutyn dedly synne, 

Forty dayis of pardoun 

God grauntyt hym. 


Man, be glad in halle and bour, 
This tyme was born our savyour. 

IN this tyme a chyld was born, 
To save tho sowle that wern forlorn ; 
For us he werde garlond of thorn, 
Al it was for our honour. 

The eytende day he was schorn, 

To fulfylle the lawe that was beforn ; 

Of meknesse he blew his horn 

On Good Fry day was don on rode ; 
The Juwes spyltyn his herte blode ; 
Mary, his moder, be hym stode ; 

36 ben our help and our socour. 

On Esterne day he gan up ryse, 
To techyn hem that wern onwyse ; 


Jhesu, for jour woundes five, 
59 ben our, etc. 

On Halwyn Thursday he gan up steye, 
To his fader that sit on heye ; 
Jhesu, for your curteysye, 
56 ben, etc. 

On Qwytsunday he gan doun sende 
Wyt and Wysdam us to amende ; 
Jhesu, bryng us to that ende, 

Withoutyn delay, our savyour. 


Nowel, el, el, el, 

Now is wel that evere was woo. 

A BABE is born al of a may 
In the savasyoun of us, 
To horn we syngyn bothe nyjt and day, 
Pent creator spiritus. 

At Bedlera, that blyssid p[l]as, 
The chyld of blysse born he was ; 
Hym to serve geve us gras, 
O lux beata trinitas. 


Ther come thre kynges out of the est, 
To worchepe the kyng that is so fre, 
With gold and myrre and francincens, 
A solis ortus cardine. 

The herdes herdyn an aungele cry, 
A merye song then sungyn he, 
Qwy arn 36 so sore agast, 

Jam ortus soils cardine. 

The aungele comyn doun with on cry, 
A fayr song then sungyn he, 
In the worchepe of that chyld, 
Gloria tibi, Domine. 


Man, be merie as bryd on berie, 
And al thi care let away. 

THIS tyme is born a chyld ful good, 
He that us bowt upon the rod ; 
He bond the devyl that is so wod, 
Til the drydful domys day. 

Quan the chyld of meche myjt 
Wold be born of Mary bry3t, 


A tokene he sente to kyng and knyjt, 

A sterre that schon bothe ny5t and day. 

The sterre schon as bry3t as fer, 
Over al the world bothe fer and ner, 
In tokene he was withoutyn per ; 

And pereles he xal lastyn ay. 

The .viij. day he was circumsise, 
For to fulfylle the profeeye ; 
The profetes with wordes wyse 

Hym present with ryche aray. 

The .xij. day come kynges thre, 

Out of the est, with herte fre, 

To worchepyn hym thei knelyd on kne, 

With gold and myrr[e] and francincens. 


I may seyn to most and lest, 
Verbum carofactum est. 

JHESU of his moder was born, 
For us he werde garlond of thorn, 
And ellys hadde we ben forlorn ; 

He tok his deth for most and lest. 


I xal 3011 telle good skele qwy 
That he was born of Mary, 
For he deyid on Calvory, 
He tok, etc. 

He wrowt us alle with his hond ; 
The fendes woldyn adoun us wrong, 
He bowt us ageyn with peynys strong, 
He tok his, etc. 

A kerche thanne to him was fet, 
A spere to his herte was set ; 
Than seyde the Juwys, "have thou that!" 
He, etc. 

The Juwis 3evyn hym drynk ezyl and galle, 
Quan Jhesu after drynk gan calle ; 
God, let us never in synne falle. 
He tok, [etc.] 

Prey we to that lord so fre, 
For us he deyid on a tre, 
At domys day our helpe he be. 
He tok, etc. 



Nowel, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el, el. 
NOWEL, el, bothe eld and 3yng, 
Nowel, el, nowe mow we syng, 
In worchepe of our hevene kyng, 
Almyty God in trinite. 

Lesteny3t, lordynges, bothe leve and dere, 
Lestenyt, ladyis, with glad chere, 
A song of merthe now mow 36 here, 

How Cryst our brother he wolde be. 

An aungyl fro hefne was sent ful snel, 
His name his clepyd Gabriel, 
His ardene he dede ful snel, 

He sat on kne and seyde " Ave !" 

And he seyde, " Mary, ful of grace, 
Hevene and erthe in every place 
Withine the tyme of lytyl space 
Reconsilid it xuld be." 

Mary stod stylle as ony ston, 
And to the aungyl che seyde anon, 



"Than herd I nevere of manys mon, 

Me thinkit wonder thou seyst to me." 

The aungyl answerd anon ful wel, 
"Mary, dryd the never a del, 
Thou xalt conseyve a chyld ful wel, 

The Holy Gost xal schadue the." 

Mary on bryst here hand che leyd, 

Stylle xe stod, and thus xe seyd, 

" Lo me here Godes owyn handmayd, 

With herte and wil and body fre." 

Mary, moder, mayde myld, 
For the love al of thi chyld, 
Fro helle pet thou us schyld ; 

Amen, amen, now synge we. 

Prenegard, prenegard, 
Thus bere I myn baselard. 

LESTENIT, lordynges, I jou beseke ; 
Ther is non man worjt a leke, 
Be he sturdy, be he meke, 

But he bere a baselard. 


Myn baselard hajt a schede of red, 
And a clene loket of led ; 
Me thinkit I may here up myn hed, 
For I here myn baselard. 

My baselard ha3t a wrethin hafte ; 
Quan I am ful of ale cawte, 
It is gret dred of man-slawtte, 
For then I bere, etc. 

My baselard hajt a sylver schape ; 
Therfore I may bothe gaspe and gape ; 
Me thinkit I go lyk non knape, 
For I bere a baselard. 

My baselard hajt a trencher kene, 
Fayr as rasour scharp and schene ; 
Evere me thinkit I may be kene, 
For I bere, etc. 

As I 3ede up in the strete, 
With a cartere I gan mete, 
"Felawe," he seyde, "so mot I the, 
Thou xalt forego thi baselard." 

The cartere his qwyppe began to take ; 
And al myn fleych began to qwake, 


And I was lef for to aseape, 

And there I left myn baselard. 

Quan I cam forjt onto myn damme, 
Myn hed was brokyn to the panne ; 
Che seyde I was a praty manne, 

And wel cowde bere myn baselard, 


I may seyn, and so mown mo, 
That in semenaunt goth gyle. 

SEMENAUNT is a wonder thing, 
It begylyt bothe knyjt and kyng, 
And makit maydenys of love-longyng ; 
I warne 3011 of that gyle. 

Semenaunt is a sly peyntour, 
It florchyt and fadit in many a flour, 
And makit wommen to lesyn here bryte colour, 
Upon a lytil qwyle. 

In semenaunt be thinges thre, 
Thowt, speche, and prevyte ; 
And trewthe xuld the forte be 
It is hens a m 1 ' myle. 


Trewthe is fer and semyt hynde, 
Good and wykkyt it hajt in mynde ; 
It faryt has a candele ende 

That brennit fro half a myle. 

Many man fayre to me he spekyt, 
And he wyste hym wel bewreke, 
He hadde we[T] levere myn hed to-breke, 
Than help me over a style. 

God that deyid upon the cros, 
Ferst he deyid sythin he ros, 
Have mercy and pete on us ; 

We levyn here but a qwyle. 


Kep thi tunge, thi tunge, thi tunge, 
Thi wykyd tunge werldt me w[o]. 

THER is non gres that growit on ground, 
Satenas ne peny round, 
Wersse then is a wykkyd tunge, 

That spekit bethe evyl of frynd and fo, 

Wykkyd tunge makit ofte stryf 
Betwyxe a good man and his wyf, 


Quan he xulde lede a merie lyf, 

Here qwyte sydys waxin ful bio. 

Wykkyd tunge makit ofte stauns, 
Bothe in Engelond and in Frauns j 
Many a man wyt spere and launs, 

Throw wykkyd tunge, to dede is do. 

Wykkyd tunge brekit bon, 

Thow the self have non ; 

Of his frynd he makit his fon, 

In every place qwere that he go. 

Good men that stondyn and syttyn in this halle, 
I prey jou bothe on and alle, 
That wykkyd tunge s fro 3ou falle, 
That 36 mown to hefne go. 


Alma Eedemptoris mater. 

As I lay upon a nyjt, 

My thowt was on a mayde bry3t 

That men callyn Mary of my3t, 

Redemptoris mater. 


To here cam Gabriel so bryjt, 
And seyde, "Heyl, Mari, ful of myjt, 
To be cald thou art adyjt 

After that word that mayde bryjt 
Anon conseyvyd God of my3t, 
And therby wyst men that che hy3t 

Ryjt as the sunne schynit in glas, 
So Jhesu in his moder was, 
And therby wyt man that che was 

Now is born that babe of blys, 
And qwen of hevene is moder is ; 
And therfore think me that che is 

After to hevene he tok his flyjt, 
And ther he sit with his fader of my3t ; 
With hym is crownyd that lady bryjt, 
Redemptoris mater. 



NON pudescit corpore, 
Quod testatur hodie, 

Manna monument!, 

Adest procul dubio 
nova res auditu, 

Infans viso gladio 
cessat a vagitu, 

Innocencium sanguine 
Rubent matrum lacryme, 

o licor suavis, 
Nali danti jugulo, 
Set caret preposito 

Herodes tua vis, 

Bonus pastor prodiit, 

gaude, grex Anglorum, 

Cujus primus extitit 

Thomas, flos pastorum, 


Thomas Cantuarie, 
Omni carens carie, 

pro lege luctaris 
Dans mucroni militis 
Tinam tui capitis, 

sic quod coronaris, 

Patitur se parvulus 
carne circumcidi, 

Qui pro carnalibus 
venerat occidi, 

O stupenda pietas, 
Amoris quod immetas 

verbi incarnati, 
Nam stillat sub calice 
Cruor carnis tenere 

Jhesu nuper nati, 




MEUM est propositum in taberna mori, 
Et vinum appositum scicienti ori; 
Ut dicant cum venerint angulorum cori, 
Deus sit propicius iste potatori. 

Potatores singuli sunt omnes benigni ; 
Tarn senes quam juvenes in eterna igni 
Cruciantur rustici, qui non sunt tarn digni 
Qui bibisse noverint bonum vinum vini. 

Unum super omnia bonum diligamus, 
Nam purgantur vissia dum vinum potamus, 
Cum nobis sint copia vinum dum clamamus, 
Qui vivis in gloria, te Deum laudamus. 

Magis quam ecclesiam diligo tabernam, 
Ipsam nullo tempore sprevi neque spernam, 
Donee sanctos angelos venientes cernam, 
Cantantibus pro ebriis requiem eternam. 

Fertur in convivium vinus, na, num, 
Masculinum duplicet atque femininum, 
Set in neutro genere vinum est devinum, 
Loqui facit socios optimum Latinum. 



IF I synge je wyl me lakke, 

And wenyn I were out of myn wy t ; 
Therfore smale notes wil I crake, 

So wolde God I were qwyt. 
Syn me muste take this mery toyn, 

To glade withal this cumpany, 
I rede, or ony swych be don, 

For Godes love, tey up 3our ky. 
For sothe I may not synge, I say, 

My voys and I arn at discord ; 
But we xul fonde to take a day, 

To takyn myn avys and myn acord. 


Wolcum, jol, thou mery man, 
In worchepe of this holy day. 

WOLCUM be thou, hevene kyng, 
Wolcum, born in on morwenyng, 
Wolcum, for horn we xal syng, 

Wolcum, 30!. 

Wolcum be 36, Stefne and Jon, 
Wolcum, innocentes everychon ; 
Wolcum, Thomas, marter on ; 

Wolcum, 50!. 


Wolcum be 36, good newe 3ere, 
Wolcum, twelthe day, bothe in fere ; 
Wolcum, seyntes, lef and dere ; 

Wolcum, 30!. 

Wolcum be 36, candylmesse ; 
Wolcum be 36, qwyn of blys, 
Wolcum bothe to more and lesse ; 

Wolcum, 30!. 

Wolcum be 36 that arn here ; 
Wolcum, alle, and mak good chere ; 
Wolcum, alle, another 3ere ; 

Wolcum, 3ol 


Lullay, myn lykyng, my dere sone, myn swetyng ; 
Lullay, my dere herte, myn owyn dere derlyng. 

I SAW a fayr maydyn syttyn and synge, 
Sche lullyd a lytyl chyld, a swete lordyng, 

Lullay, myn, [etc.] 

That eche lord is that that made alle thinge, 
Of alle lordis he is lord, of alle kynges kyng. 



Ther was mekyl melody at that chyldes berthe, 
Alle tho wern in hevene blys thei made mekyl merthe, 


Aungele bry3t thei song that nyjt and seydyn to that chyld, 
Blyssid be thou, and so be sche that is bothe mek and 


Prey we now to that chyld, and to his moder dere, 
Grawnt hem his blyssyng that now makyn chere. 



Hostis Herodis impie, Christum venire quid times ? non erpit 

ENMY Herowde, thou wokkyd kyng, 
Qwy dredes thou the of Cristes comyng ? 
He dezyryt here non erthely thing, 
That hevene hajt at his 3evyng. 

Ibant magi quam viderant stellam sequentes, premant lumen. 
Thre kynges thei saw a sterre ful bryjt, 
Thei folwyd it with al here my3t, 
Bryjtnesse thei saw throw that Iy3t, 
Thei knewe God with here 3yftes ry3t. 


Lavacra puri gurgitis selestis angnus attigit peccata ---- non... . 
The welle hajt waschyn us fro wo, 
The lomb of hevene is comyn us to, 
He that synne nevere wold do, 

waschyn clene our synnys us fro. 

Novum genus potencie aque rubescunt idrie unurn. . . .ine. 
His my3t is chawngyd of newe maner, 
The water wyx red in pecher ; 
The water is turnyd to wyn ful cler, 
Ageyn the kynde thow it were. 

Gloria tibi, Domine, qui aperuisti hodie cum patre et sancto 
spiritu in sempiterna secula. Amen. 

Lovyng Lord be to the ay, 
That hajt schewyd the to us this day, 
With fader and holy gost veray, 
That in the word never fayle may. 


As I me lend to a lend, 

I herd a schepperde makyn a schowte ; 
He gronyd and seyde, with sory syghyng, 

" A, Lord ! how gos this word abowte. 


" It gos ful wrong, ho so it wyst, 

A frend he may ken fro his foo ; 
To horn I may trewely trost, 

In fayth I fynde but fewe of tho. 

" The sothe me thinkyt, if I xulde say, 
Trewe frendes arn fewe withoutyn dowte ; 

Alle half frendes wel worth hem ay, 
0, Lord ! how gos this word abowte. 

" Alle trewe frendes wel worth hem ay, 

In wel, in wo, in hert, in thowth, 
It must be soth that alle men say, 

He was nevere good frend was wroth for nowth. 

" Now wel, now wo; now frend, now foo; 

Now lef, now thef ; now in, now out ; 
Now cum, now go ; now to, now froo ; 

O, Lord ! how gos this word abowte ! 

" The werst wytes werte of alle mankende, 
Alle wykkyd tunges ay worth hem woo ! 

Thei arn ful fayin fals talis to fynd, 
Thei gref me thus I may not goo: 



" But, God, of hem thou take sum wreche, 

And arest hem alle be rowt, 
That fals arn and fayre cun spake ; 

O, Lord ! how gos this word abowte ! 


Mak me merthe for Crystes berthe, 
And syng we 30! til candilmesse. 

THE ferste day of 30! we han in mynde, 
How man was born al of our kende, 
For he wold the boudes onbynde 

Of alle our synne and wykkydnes. 
The secunde day we synge of Stevene, 
That stonyd was, and fid up evene, 
With Cryst ther he wold stonde in hevene, 

And crownyd was for his promys. 
The threde day longe to saynt Jon, 
That was Crystes derlyng, derest on, 
To horn he lok, quan he xuld gon, 

His dere moder for his clennes. 
The forte day of the chylderyng 3yng, 
With Herowdes wretthe to deth were wrong, 
Of Cryst thei cowde not speke with long, 

But with here blod bare wytnesse. 
The fyfte day halwyt seynt Thomas, 


Ryth as strong as peler of bras, 
Hyld up his kyrke and slayin was, 

For he stod faste in rythwynes, 
The extende day tok Jhesu his nam, 
That savyd mankynde fro synne and schame, 
And circumsysed was for non blame, 

But for insane and mekeness. 
The xii. day ofFeryd to him kynges iij. 
Gold, myrre, incens, this 3yftes fre, 
For God, and man, and kyng is he, 

And thus theiworchepyd his worthinesse. 
The forty day cam Mary myld, 
Onto the temple with here schyld, 
To schewyne here alone that never was fyld ; 

And herewith endis Crystemesse, 


Mak ^e merrie, as ye may, 
And syng with me, I jou pray. 

IN Patras ther born he was 

The holy buschop seynt Nycholas, 

He wyst mekyl of Godes gras, 

Throw vertu of the Trinite. 
He reysyd thre klerkes fro deth to lyfve, 
That wern in salt put ful swythe, 
Betwyx a bochere and his wyfve, 

H 2 


And was hid in privyte. 
He maryid thre maydenys of myld mod ; 
He 3af hem gold to here fod ; 
He turnyd hem fro ille to good, 

Throw vertu of the Trynyte. 
Another he dede sekyrly, 
He savyd a thef that was ful sly, 
That stal a swyn out of his sty ; 

His lyf than savyd he. 
God grawt us grace, bothe old and jyng, 
Hym to serve at his plesyng ; 
To hevene blysse he us bryng. 

Throw vertu of the Trinite. 


Kyrie, so kyrie, Jankyn syngyt merie, with aleyson. 

As I went on 30! day 

in owre prosessyon, 
Know I joly Jankyn 

be his mery ton ; ' 
Jankyn began the offys 

on the 30! day ; 
And 3it me thynkyt it dos me good, 

so merie gan he say, 



Jankyn red the pystyl 

ful fayre and ful wel, 
And jyt me thinkyt it dos me good, 

as evere have I sal. 
Jankyn at the sanctus 

crakit a merie note, 
And jit me thinkyt it dos me good, 

I payid for his cote. 
Jankyn crakit notes, 

an hunderid on a knot, 
And 3yt he hakkyt hem smallere 

than wortes to the pot. 
Jankyn at the angnus 

beryt the pax brede, 
He twynkelid, but sayd nowt, 

and on myn fot he trede. 
Benedicamus Domino, 

Cryst from schame me schylde. 
Deo gracias thereto, 

alas ! I go with schylde. 


Page 2, line 9. Now bething the, gentilman. This is 
but another form of the old popular proverb 
When Adam dolve and Eve span, 
Who was then the gentleman? 

It was the well-known motto of the English popular 
insurrections of the fourteenth century. Holinshed, 
speaking of the troubles in the reign of Richard II, and of 
the priest John Ball, says, " When all the prisons were 
broken up, and the prisoners set at libertie, he being 
therefore so delivered, followed them, and at Blackeheath 
when the greatest multitude was there got togither (as 
some write) he made a sermon, taking this saieng or 
common proverbe for his theame, whereupon to intreat, 

When Adam delv'd and Eve span, 
Who was then a gentleman? 

and so continueing his sermon, went about to proove by 
the words of that proverbe, that from the beginning all 
men by nature were created alike, and that bondage or 
servitude came in by unjust oppression of naughtie men." 
The same proverb existed in German, and is given by 
Agricola (Prov. No. 264) as follows : 

So Adam reutte, und Eva span, 
Wer was da ein eddelman? 

104 NOTES. 

In a Manuscript in the British Museum of the fourteenth 
century, (MS. Harl. No. 3362, fol. 7) the same proverb is 
given in Latin leonines 

Cum vanga quadam tellurem foderit Adam, 
Et Eva nens fuerat, quis generosus erat? 

Page 2, 1. 11. In the vale of Abraham. According to the 
mediaeval notion, the scene of the creation lay in the valley 
of Hebron, which was afterwards the residence of Abraham. 
"And in that same place," says Maundevile (p. 66), "was 
Abrahames hous ; and there he satt and saughe thre 
persones, and worschipte but on, as holy writt seythe, Tres 
vidit et unum adoravit, that is to seyne, he saughe thre, 
and worschiped on ; and of the same resceyved Abraham 
the aungeles into his hous. And righte faste by that place 
is a cave in the roche where Adam and Eve duelleden, whan 
thei weren putt out of Paradyse, and there goten thei here 
children. And in that same place was Adam formed and 
made, aftre that that sum men seyn. For men weren wont 
for to clepe that place the feld of Damasce, because that it 
was in the lordschipe of Damask. And fro thens was he 
translated into Paradys of delytes, as thei seyn ; and aftre 
that he was dryven out of Paradys, he was there left." 

Page 2, I. 17. An appil-tre. The popular religious 
writers in the middle ages believed literally that the tree 
of knowledge was an apple-tree, and that the fruit which 
Eve plucked was an apple. In the curious sermon, in 
French verse of the thirteenth century, published by 
M. Jubinal, we read 

O Deus, quele dolor 
Et cum grant tristor 
Lor vint a soffrir, 

NOTES. 105 

Par icele pome 
Qui a un sol home 
Vint si a plaisir ! 

The account of the fall in the same poem may be quoted 
as illustrative of our song, especially in the circumstance 
that the part acted by Eve is omitted, and the serpent is 
supposed to have tempted Adam. 

Grant mal fist Adam, 
Qui par le Sathan 

Tel conseil crut ; 
Mal conseil li dona, 
Qui ceo lui loa, 

Car tost Tout soduit. 
Par I'enticement 
Del mortel serpent 

Fu tost deposes ; 
Mult par fu chatifs 
Quant de Parais 

Fu deserites. 
Mult par pout plorer 
Quant ne pout entrer 

La dum il esteit ; 
Li angres ert clevant 
s'espee ardent 

Qui deffendeit. 

Page 4, 1. 3. Seynt Nicholas... may denis thre. This was 
one of the stories of the beneficent interference of St. 
Nicholas which was very popular in the middle ages. It 
is told as follows in Caxton's edition of the Liber Festivalis 
(1484). "Than fyl it so that there was a ryche man that 
had doughters fayre and yonge wymmen, ^but by myschyef 
he was fallen unto poverte, so for grete nede he ordeyned 

106 NOTES. 

hem to be comen women for to geten her lyvyng and hys 
bothe ; and whan Nicholas herde therof, he had grete 
compassyon of hem, and on a nyght pryvelye at a windowe 
he caste a bagge wyth a somme of golde into the mannes 
chaumbre. Than on the morowe-tyde that man aroos and 
founde thys golde ; than was he glad therwith that no man 
coude telle hit, and anone with that golde he maried his 
elder doughter. Than another nyght Nycholas caste 
another somme of golde into the mannes chaumbre as he 
dyd before ; and so the iij. nyght, whan this man herde the 
golde falle, anone he went out and overtoke Nycholas, and 
knewe that it was he that had holpen hym soo in his 
myschyef, and knelid doun and wold have kissed his fete, 
but he wold not suffre hym, but prayed hym to kepe 
counceyl whyle he lyved." 

Page 6, I. 5. Farye. An enchantment ; a scene of 

Page 11, 1. 13 Wommen be bothe good and trewe. 
Another copy of this song is found in MS. Harl. No. 7358, 
which, as it presents some variations, may be given entire 
for comparison. 

Wymmen beth bothe goude and truwe, 

Wytnesse on Marie. 
Wyrnmen beth bothe goud and schene, 
On handes, fet, and face clene ; 
Wymmen may no beter bene ; 

W. o. M. 

Wymmen beth gentel on her tour ; 
A womman bar oure Savyour ; 
Of al thys wor[ld] wyman is flour ; 

W. o. M. 
Wyrcbyp we wyrnmanys face, 

NOTES. 107 

Wer we scth hem on a place ; 
For wymman ys the wyl of grace. 

W. o. M. 

Love a womman with herte truwe, 
He nel chongy for no newe ; 
Wymmen beth of wordes fewe ; 

W. o. M. 

Wymmen beth goud, withoute lesyng; 
Fro sorwe and care hy wol us bryng ; 
Wymman ys flour of alle thyng ; 

W. o. M. 

Page 16, 1. 7. Man, be war. This stanza, with slight 
variation, forms the commencement of a song in the Songs 
and Carols edited for the Percy Society, p. 4. 

Page 16, 1. 15. Of a rose. Another copy of this song 
will be found in the Percy Society Songs and Carols, p. 21. 

Page 20, I. 7. Religiuus. It may perhaps be well to 
observe that this word, in old English, meant almost 
invariably people in the monastic orders. 

Page 26, 1. 2. Of joy is Jive. A different song on the "five 
joys" is printed in the Percy Society Songs and Carols, p. 68. 
It is a subject celebrated in a vast number of petty effusions 
in verse and prose, and in many languages, scattered 
through the manuscripts of the middle ages. A short 
English poem on the same subject will be found in the 
Reliquiae Antique, vol. i, p. 48. 

Page 27, I. 6. Knet up the haltre and let here goo. 
Nearly the same phrase occurs as the burthen of a ballad 
on the fickleness of women, of the age of Henry VI, printed 
in the Reliquiae Antiques, vol. i, p. 75, the first stanza of 
which is as follows. 



I not what I shall syng nor say, 

I, man forsakyn, wo worth the whyle ! 
Ho may hold that wyll away ? 

My soveren laid has don me gyle. 

I have betho^t me upon a wyle, 
Sythen that hur hert ys turnyd me fro, 

I hold yt the best, for drede of gyle, 
Turne up hur halter and let hur go. 

Another poem on the same subject and of the same period, 
printed also in the Reliquiae Antiquce (vol. i. p. 27), has a 
similar burthen, taken like it from the language of hawking. 
The first stanza is 

Who carpys of byrddys of grete j entry s, 

The sperhawke me semyth makys moste dysporte, 
And moste acordynge for alle degreys, 

For smalle byrddys sche puttys to morte. 
Y reclaymyd on, as y schalle reporte, 
As longe as sche wolde to me aply ; 

When sche wolde no^t to my glove resorte, 
Then plukkyd y of here belly s, and let here fly. 

Page 28, 1. 1. Another copy of this song, with variations, 
and the omission of the third stanza, will be found in the 
Percy Society Songs and Carols, p. 18. 

Page 29, L 2. Gret withy i. e., greeted by. A not un- 
usual phrase in early English. 

Page 31, 1. 1. The writer of this song appears to have 
had in his eye the description of the cock in Chaucer's 
Nonne Prestes Tale (Cant. T. 16,335). 

In which sche had a cok, hight Chaunteclere, 
In al the lond of crowyng was noon his peere. 
His vois was merier than the mery orgon, 
On masse dayes that in the chirche goon ; 

NOTES. 109 

Wei sekercr was his crowyng in his logge, 

Than is a clok, or an abbay orologge. 

By nature knew he ech ascencioun 

Of equinoxial in thilke toun ; 

For whan degrees fyftene were ascendid, 

Thanne crewe, he, it might not ben amendid. 

His comb was redder than the fyn coral, 

And bat ay Id, as it were a castel wal. 

His bile was blak, and as the geet it schon ; 

Lik asur were Ms legges, and his ton ; 

His nayles whitter than the lily flour, 

And lik the burnischt gold was his colour. 

Page 31, 1. 16. Wortewale. The skin which covered the 

Page 32, I. 11. Adam lay i-bowndyn. Adam was 
supposed to have remained in bonds, with the other patri- 
archs, in the limbus patrum, from the time of his death till 
the crucifixion of the Saviour. 

Page 33, I. 7. The sort of paradoxes contained in this 
curious popular song seem to be of considerable antiquity, 
and have been preserved in nearly the same form, almost, 
if not quite, down to our own time. They will be found in 
the following ballad, which is here given from a chap-book 
printed at Newcastle about the beginning of the present 
century, but which is no doubt of much greater antiquity. 


The lord of Koslin's daughter 

Walks through the wood her lane, 

And by came captain Wedderburn, 
A servant to the king. 

110 NOTES. 

He said unto his servant man, 
Were it not against the law, 

I would take her to my own bed, 
And lay her next the wa'. 

I'm walking here alane, she says, 

Amang my father's trees, 
And you may let me walk alane, 

Kind sir, now, if you please. 
The supper bell it will be rung, 

And I'll be miss'd, you knaw ; 
So I will not lie in your bed, 

Neither at stock nor wa'. 

He says, My pretty lady, 

I pray lend me your hand, 
And you'll have drums and trumpets 

Always at your command, 
And fifty men to guard you with, 

That well their swords can draw, 
And we'll baith lie in ae bed, 

And thou's ly next the wa'. 

Hold away from me, kind sir, 

I pray let go my hand ; 
The supper bell it will be rung, 

No longer will I stand ; 
My father he'll no supper take, 

If I be miss'd, you knaw; 
So I'll not lie in your bed, 

Neither at stock nor wa'. 

Then said the pretty lady, 
I pray, tell me your name. 


My name is Captain Wedderburn, 

A servant to the king. 
Tho' thy father and his men were here, 

Of him I'd not stand in aw ; 
But wou'd take thee into my bed, 

And lay the next the wa'. 

He lighted off his milk-white steed, 

And set his lady on, 
And held her by the milk-white hand, 

Even as they rode along. 
He held her by the middle so jimp, 

For fear that she shou'd fa'; 
So I'll take thee to my own bed, 

And lay the next the wa'. 

He took her to his lodging house, 

His landlady look been, 
Since many pretty ladies 

In Edinburgh I've seen ; 
But such a pretty face as thine 

In it I never saw. 
Go meake her up a down bed, 

And lay her next the wa'. 

Hold away from me, kind sir, 

I pray you let me be ; 
For I will not go to your bed 

Till you dress me dishes three. 
Dishes three you must do to me, 

If I shou'd eat them a', 
Before that I lie in your bed, 

Either at stock or wa'. 

112 NOTES. 

0, 1 must have to my supper 

A cherry without a stone ; 
And I must have to my supper 

A chicken without a bone ; 
And I must have to my supper 

A hird without a ga'; 
Before that I lie in your hed, 

Either at stock or wa'. 

When the cherry is in the bloom, 

I am sure it has no stone ; 
And when the chicken's in the shell, 

I'm sure it has no bone ; 
The dove it is a gentle bird, 

It flies without a ga' ; 
And we's lie baith within ae bed, 

And thou's lie next the wa'. 

Hold away from me, kind sir, 

I pray you give me o'er; 
For I will not go till your bed, 

Till you answer me questions four. 
Questions four you must tell me, 

And that is twa and twa, 
Or I will not lie in your bed, 

Neither at stock or wa'. 

You must get me some winter fruit 

That in December grew ; 
And I must have a silk mantle, 

That wraft was ne'er ca'd throw ; 
What bird sings best and wood buds first, 

That dew doth on them fa' ; 
And then I'll lie into your bed, 

Either at stock or wa'. 


My father has some winter fruit 

That in Decemher grew ; 
My mother has a silk mantle, 

That wraft was ne'er ca'd throw ; 
The cock crows first, cyder buds first, 

The dew doth on them fa' ; 
So we'll baith lie in ae bed, 

And thou's lie next the wa'. 

Hold away from me, kind sir, 

And do not me perplex ; 
For I'll not lie into your bed 

Till you answer me questions six ; 
Questions six you must tell me, 

And that is four and twa, 
Before that I lie into your bed, 

Either at stock or wa'. 

What is greener than the grass ? 

What's higher than the trees ? 
And what is worse than woman's voice ? 

What's deeper than the seas ? 
A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn, 

This night to join us twa, 
Before I lie into your bed, 

Either at stock or wa'. 

Death is greener than the grass ; 

Sky is higher than the trees ; 
The devil's worse than woman's voice ; 

Hell's deeper than the seas ; 
A sparrow's horn you may well get, 

There's one on ilka pa', 
And two upon the gab of it, 

And you shall have them a'. 


114 NOTES. 

The priest he's standing at the door, 

Just ready to come in, 
No man can say that he was horn, 

No man without a fin : 
A hole cut in his mother's side, 

He from the same did fa'; 
So we will both lie in ae bed, 

And thou's lie next the wa'. 

0, little did the lady think, 

That morning when she raise, 
That it was to be the last night 

Of her maiden days ; 
But there is not in the king's realm 

To be found a blyther twa : 
And now they both lie in one bed, 

And she lies next the wa'. 

In his interesting little volume, Popular Rhymes and 
Nursery Tales, p. 150, Mr. Halliwell has given the follow- 
ing verses, as current in the north of England, which 
resemble still more closely those in our text : 


I have four sisters beyond the sea, 

Para-mara, dictum, domine. 
And they did send four presents to me, 

Partum, quartum, paradise, tempum, 

Para-mara, dictum, domine. 

The first it was a bird without e'er a bone ; 

Para-mara, dictum, &c. 
The second was a cherry without e'er a stone ; 

Partum, quartum, &c. 

NOTES. 115 

The third it was a blanket without e'er a thread ; 

Para-mara, dictum, &c. 
The fourth it was a hook which no man could read ; 

Partum, quartum, &c. 

How can there he a bird without e'er a bone? 

Para-mara, dictum, &c. 
How can there be a cherry without e'er a stone ? 

Partum, quartum, &c. 

How can there ha a blanket without e'er a thread ? 

Para-mara, dictum, &c. 
How can there be a book which no man can read ? 

Partum, quartum, &c. 

When the bird's hi the shell, there is no bone ; 

Para-mara, dictum, &c. 
When the cherry's in the bud, there is no stone ; 

Partum, quartum, <fcc. 

When the blanket's in the fleece, there is no thread ; 

Para-mara, dictum, &c. 
When the book's in the press, no man can read ; 

Partum, quartum, &c. 

Page 37, 1. 3. Betwyin an ox and an as. The ox and 
ass were perhaps first introduced for the sake of pictorial 
effect, to show that the scene was really a stable ; but it 
became subsequently an article of literal belief that these 
two animals attended the birth of the Saviour, and they 
always appear in the illuminations of missals, etc. 

Page 37, 1. 18. Baltyzar. The legends differ in the order 
of the kings, and also in the appropriation of their offerings. 
In the Coventry Mysteries, as in our song, the first king is 

116 NOTES. 

Baltazare, and he offers gold ; the second, Melchizar, who 
offers incense ; and the third, Jasper, whose offering is 
myrrh. The order is the same in the French Gfeu des 
Trois Roys, published by M. Jubinal. In the Towneley 
Mysteries, the first king is Jaspar, who offers gold; the 
second, Melchor, who offers " rekyls" (incense) ; the third, 
Balthesar, who offers myrrh. The English legend of the 
Three Kings, published in my edition of the Chester Plays, 
tells us, " Melchior that was kyng of Nube and of Arabic, 
that offred gold to God, he was lest of stature and of per- 
sone ; Baltazar, that was kyng of Godolie and of Saba, that 
offred encense to God, he was of mene stature in his per- 
sone ; and Jasper that was kyng of Taars and of Egripwille, 
that offred mirre to God, he was most in persone, and was 
a blacke Ethiope." 

Page 42, I. 5. Robynn. This song furnishes us with 
rather a curious example of the danger of hasty criticism. 
Ritson, who printed it in his Ancient Songs and Ballads, 
took the word lyth for a proper name, although the form 
it takes in the refrain at the end, ly^th, shows clearly 
enough its meaning, lieth. Not content with this, by a 
little stretch of his imagination, he has given a short sketch 
of the life of his hero, Robin Lyth, whom he even supposed 
to be one of Robin Hood's own men, who set up the trade 
of outlaw for himself after the death of his master. 
" Who or what this Robin Lyth was," he observes, " does 
not, otherwise than by this little performance, composed, it 
should seem, to commemorate the manner of his death, and 
of the revenge taken for it, anywhere appear. That he was 
a native or inhabitant of Yorkshire is, indeed, highly pro- 
bable, for two reasons : the first is, that a few miles north 
of Whitby is a village called Lythe, whence he may be rea- 

NOTES. 117 

sonably supposed to have acquired his surname ; the second, 
that near Flamborough, in Holderness, is a large cavern 
in the rocks, subject, at present, to the influx of the sea, 
which, among the country people, retains to this day the 
name of Robin Lyth hole; from the circumstance, no doubt, 
of its having been one of his skulking places. Robin Hood, 
a hero of the same occupation, had several such in those 
and other parts ; and, indeed, it is not very improbable that 
our hero had been formerly in the suite of that gallant 
robber, and, on his master's death, had set up for himself." 

Page 42, 1. 8. Gandeleyn. This name seems to be con- 
nected with that of Gamelyn, in the Cokes Tale attributed 
to Chaucer. It was probably a well known one in this class 
of ballads. 

Page 42, 1. 10. Chylderin. This word evidently means 
here upgrown men. It is one of those words which appear 
to have been formerly used in a much less restricted sense 
than at present, and we have such examples as ' Horn 
child,' etc. 

Page 48, I. 7. Moder, qwyt as. Another copy of this 
song, with variations, and one stanza more at the end, will 
be found in the Songs and Carols of the Percy Society, p. 
50. The additional stanza is 

Swych mornyng as the maydyn mad, 

I can not telle it in this howr; 
Therfor be mery and glade, 

And make us mery for our Savowr. 

Page 49, 1. 9. Reges de Saba. Another copy of this song 
also occurs in the collection printed for the Percy Society, 
p. 46, where it is much more complete. 

Page 60, L 15. On Schyre-Thursday. Shear-Thursday, 

118 NOTES. 

or Maundy-Thursday, the day on which Christ's last supper 
with his disciples is commemorated. 

Page 63, 1. 1. Seynt Stevene. I do not know whence this 
strange legend of St. Stephen being king Herod's clerk of 
the kitchen is derived. 

Page 65, 1. 1. Nowel. This song also occurs with varia- 
tions, as usual, among the Percy Society Songs and Carols, 
p. 38. 

Page 66, 1. 17. The greteste clerk. Thomas Becket, arch- 
bishop of Canterbury. 

Page 68, 1. 9. For lij. poyntes. This must, I suppose, 
refer to the " Constitutions" of Clarendon, which, however, 
were sixteen in number, and not fifty-two. The manu- 
script, however, is very incorrectly written, and the songs 
are apparently taken down from memory. 

Page 69, 1. 11. M. and A. Another copy of this song 
will be found in the Songs and Carols of the Percy Society, 
p. 31. 

Page 73, 1. 4. Of kyng Edmund. Edmund king of the 
East Angles; the wolf and the blind man figure in this 
legend, which will be found in Capgrave, Nov. Leg. Anglice. 

Page 74, 1. 1. The dere ^eres thre. I. 5. The pestelens 
tweye. .13. A wyndes blast. See on these allusions, the 

Page 74, 1. 19. At the frere camys . . . at Lynne toun. 
There was a priory of Carmelites, or White Friars, at 
Lynn, in Norfolk, but I have not been able to trace any 
other mention of the accidental burning of it, which is 
alluded to in our song. 

Page 75, 1. 7. Go let, peny. This song was printed by 
Ritson, in his Ancient Popular Poetry. The subject was 
far from an uncommon one, and is found versified in French 

NOTES. 119 

and Latin, as well as in English. See my edition of the 
Latin Poems commonly attributed to Walter Mapes, pp. 223, 

Page 88, 1. 7. Wykkyd tunge. It is perhaps hardly ne- 
cessary to remark that this was a very old and popular 

Page 92, 1. 1. Meurn est propositum. This is very curious, 
as being, as far as I am aware, the earliest instance in which 
these celebrated lines, taken from one of the poems attri- 
buted to Walter Mapes, are given in the form of a song. 
The song, in its ordinary form, was first printed, I believe, 
in Camden's Remaines. It is made up from lines in the 
Confessio Golice. See my Latin Poems attributed to Walter 
Napes, p. 71. 

Page 99, I. 18. In Patras. It is hardly necessary to 
make any further remark upon this song, than that the 
stories alluded to in it will be found in the legendary life of 
St. Nicholas, One of them has already been the subject of 
a song in this collection. See Song in. 

Page 100, 1. 23. Kyrieleyson. The Greek, Kv 
i. e., Lord, have mercy upon us, a part of the Liturgy. 


Fulk Fitz-Warine 

The history of Fulk Fi