The Tale
There was, as telleth Titus Livius,
A knight, that called was Virginius,
Full filled of honoúr and worthiness,
And strong of friendës, and of great richéss.
This knight one daughter haddë by his wife;
No children had he more in all his life.
Fair was this maid in excellent beautý
Aboven ev’ry wight that man may see:
For nature had with sov’reign diligence
Y-formed her in so great excellence,
As though she wouldë say, “Lo, I, Natúre,
Thus can I form and paint a creatúre,
When that me list; who can me counterfeit?
Pygmalion? not though he aye forge and beat,
Or grave or paintë: for I dare well sayn,
Apelles, Zeuxis, shouldë work in vain,
Either to grave, or paint, or forge, or beat,
If they presumed me to counterfeit.
For he that is the former principal,
Hath madë me his vicar-general
To form and painten earthly creatúrës
Right as me list, and all thing in my cure is,
Under the moonë, that may wane and wax.
And for my work right nothing will I ax;
My lord and I be full of one accord.
I made her to the worship of my lord;
So do I all mine other creatúres,
What colour that they have, or what figúres.”
Thus seemeth me that Nature wouldë say.
This maiden was of age twelve year and tway,
In which that Nature haddë such delight.
For right as she can paint a lily white,
And red a rose, right with such paintúre
She painted had this noble creatúre,
Ere she was born, upon her limbës free,
Where as by right such colours shouldë be:
And Phoebus dyed had her tresses great,
Like to the streamës of his burned heat.
And if that excellent was her beautý,
A thousand-fold more virtuous was she.
In her there lacked no conditión,
That is to praise, as by discretión.
As well in ghost as body chaste was she:
For which she flower’d in virginitý,
With all humility and abstinence,
With allë temperance and patience,
With measure eke of bearing and array.
Discreet she was in answering alway,
Though she were wise as Pallas, dare I sayn;
Her faconde eke full womanly and plain,
No counterfeited termës haddë she
To seemë wise; but after her degree
She spake, and all her wordës more and less
Sounding in virtue and in gentleness.
Shamefast she was in maiden’s shamefastness,
Constant in heart, and ever in business
To drive her out of idle sluggardy:
Bacchus had of her mouth right no mast’rý.
For wine and slothë do Venús increase,
As men in fire will casten oil and grease.
And of her owen virtue, unconstrain’d,
She had herself full often sick y-feign’d,
For that she wouldë flee the company,
Where likely was to treaten of follý,
As is at feasts, at revels, and at dances,
That be occasións of dalliánces.
Such thingës makë children for to be
Too soonë ripe and bold, as men may see,
Which is full perilous, and hath been yore;
For all too soonë may she learnë lore
Of boldëness, when that she is a wife.
And ye mistrésses, in your oldë life
That lordës’ daughters have in governánce,
Takë not of my wordës displeasánce:
Thinkë that ye be set in governings
Of lordës’ daughters only for two things;
Either for ye have kept your honesty,
Or else for ye have fallen in frailtý
And knowë well enough the oldë dance,
And have forsaken fully such meschance
For evermore; therefore, for Christë’s sake,
To teach them virtue look that ye not slake.
A thief of venison, that hath forlaft
His lik’rousness, and all his oldë craft,
Can keep a forest best of any man;
Now keep them well, for if ye will ye can.
Look well, that ye unto no vice assent,
Lest ye be damned for your wick’ intent,
For whoso doth, a traitor is certáin;
And takë keep of that I shall you sayn;
Of allë treason, sov’reign pestilence
Is when a wight betrayeth innocence.
Ye fathers, and ye mothers eke also,
Though ye have children, be it one or mo’,
Yours is the charge of all their surveyance,
While that they be under your governance.
Beware, that by example of your livíng,
Or by your negligence in chastisíng,
That they not perish for I dare well say,
If that they do, ye shall it dear abeye.
Under a shepherd soft and negligent
The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to-rent.
Sufficë this example now as here,
For I must turn again to my mattére.
This maid, of which I tell my tale express,
She kept herself, her needed no mistréss;
For in her living maidens mightë read,
As in a book, ev’ry good word and deed
That longeth to a maiden virtuous;
She was so prudent and so bounteous.
For which the fame out sprang on every side
Both of her beauty and her bounté wide:
That through the land they praised her each one
That loved virtue, save envý alone,
That sorry is of other mannë’s weal,
And glad is of his sorrow and unheal—
The Doctor maketh this descriptioún.—
This maiden on a day went in the town
Toward a temple, with her mother dear,
As is of youngë maidens the mannére.
Now was there then a justice in that town,
That governor was of that regioún:
And so befell, this judge his eyen cast
Upon this maid, avising her full fast,
As she came forth by where this judgë stood;
Anon his heartë changed and his mood,
So was he caught with beauty of this maid
And to himself full privily he said,
“This maiden shall be mine for any man.”
Anon the fiend into his heartë ran,
And taught him suddenly, that he by sleight
This maiden to his purpose winnë might.
For certes, by no force, nor by no meed,
Him thought he was not able for to speed;
For she was strong of friendës, and eke she
Confirmed was in such sov’reign bounté,
That well he wist he might her never win,
As for to make her with her body sin.
For which, with great deliberatioún,
He sent after a clerk was in the town,
The which he knew for subtle and for bold.
This judge unto this clerk his talë told
In secret wise, and made him to assure
He shouldë tell it to no creatúre,
And if he did, he shouldë lose his head.
And when assented was this cursed rede,
Glad was the judge, and made him greatë cheer,
And gave him giftës precioús and dear.
When shapen was all their conspiracy
From point to point, how that his lechery
Performed shouldë be full subtilly,
As ye shall hear it after openly,
Home went this clerk, that hightë Claudius.
This falsë judge, that hightë Appius—
(So was his namë, for it is no fable,
But knowen for a storial thing notáble;
The sentence of it sooth is out of doubt);—
This falsë judgë went now fast about
To hasten his delight all that he may.
And so befell, soon after on a day,
This falsë judge, as telleth us the story,
As he was wont, sat in his consistóry,
And gave his doomes upon sundry case’;
This falsë clerk came forth a full great pace,
And saidë; “Lord, if that it be your will,
As do me right upon this piteous bill,
In which I plain upon Virginius.
And if that he will say it is not thus,
I will it prove, and findë good witnéss,
That sooth is what my billë will express.”
The judge answér’d, “Of this, in his absénce,
I may not give definitive senténce.
Let do him call, and I will gladly hear;
Thou shalt have allë right, and no wrong here.”
Virginius came to weet the judgë’s will,
And right anon was read this cursed bill;
The sentence of it was as ye shall hear:
“To you, my lord, Sir Appius so clear,
Sheweth your poorë servant Claudius,
How that a knight callëd Virginius,
Against the law, against all equity,
Holdeth, express against the will of me,
My servant, which that is my thrall by right,
Which from my house was stolen on a night,
While that she was full young; I will it preve
By witness, lord, so that it you not grieve;
She is his daughter not, what so he say.
Wherefore to you, my lord the judge, I pray,
Yield me my thrall, if that it be your will.”
Lo, this was all the sentence of the bill.
Virginius gan upon the clerk behold;
But hastily, ere he his talë told,
And would have proved it, as should a knight,
And eke by witnessing of many a wight,
That all was false that said his adversary,
This cursed judgë would no longer tarry,
Nor hear a word more of Virginius,
But gave his judgëment, and saidë thus:
“I deem anon this clerk his servant have;
Thou shalt no longer in thy house her save.
Go, bring her forth, and put her in our ward;
The clerk shall have his thrall: thus I award.”
And when this worthy knight, Virginius,
Through sentence of this justice Appius,
Mustë by force his dearë daughter give
Unto the judge, in lechery to live,
He went him home, and sat him in his hall,
And let anon his dearë daughter call;
And with a facë dead as ashes cold
Upon her humble face he gan behold,
With father’s pity sticking through his heart,
All would he from his purpose not convert.
“Daughter,” quoth he, “Virginia by name,
There be two wayës, either death or shame,
That thou must suffer—alas that I was bore!
For never thou deservedest wherefore
To dien with a sword or with a knife,
O dearë daughter, ender of my life,
Whom I have foster’d up with such pleasánce
That thou were ne’er out of my remembrance;
O daughter, which that art my lastë woe,
And in this life my lastë joy also,
O gem of chastity, in patiénce
Take thou thy death, for this is my senténce:
For love and not for hate thou must be dead;
My piteous hand must smiten off thine head.
Alas, that ever Appius thee say!
Thus hath he falsely judged thee to-day.”
And told her all the case, as ye before
Have heard; it needeth not to tell it more.
“O mercy, dearë father,” quoth the maid.
And with that word she both her armës laid
About his neck, as she was wont to do,
(The tearës burst out of her eyen two),
And said, “O goodë father, shall I die?
Is there no grace? is there no remedý?”
“No, certes, dearë daughter mine,” quoth he.
“Then give me leisure, father mine,” quoth she,
“My death for to complain a little space:
For, pardie, Jephthah gave his daughter grace
For to complain, ere he her slew, alas!
And, God it wot, nothing was her trespáss,
But for she ran her father first to see,
To welcome him with great solemnity.”
And with that word she fell aswoon anon;
And after, when her swooning was y-gone,
She rose up, and unto her father said:
“Blessed be God, that I shall die a maid.
Give me my death, ere that I havë shame;
Do with your child your will, in Goddë’s name.”
And with that word she prayed him full oft
That with his sword he wouldë smite her soft;
And with that word, aswoon again she fell.
Her father, with full sorrowful heart and fell,
Her head off smote, and by the top it hent,
And to the judge he went it to present,
As he sat yet in doom in consistóry.
And when the judge it saw, as saith the story,
He bade to take him, and to hang him fast.
But right anon a thousand people in thrast
To save the knight, for ruth and for pitý,
For knowen was the false iniquity.
The people anon had súspect in this thing,
By manner of the clerkë’s challengíng,
That it was by th’ assent of Appius;
They wistë well that he was lecherous.
For which unto this Appius they gon,
And cast him in a prison right anon,
Where as he slew himself: and Claudius,
That servant was unto this Appius,
Was doomed for to hang upon a tree;
But that Virginius, of his pitý,
So prayed for him, that he was exil’d;
And ellës certes had he been beguil’d;
The remenant were hanged, more and less,
That were consenting to this cursedness.
Here men may see how sin hath his meríte:
Beware, for no man knows how God will smite
In no degree, nor in which manner wise
The worm of consciéncë may agrise
Of wicked life, though it so privy be,
That no man knows thereof, save God and he;
For be he lewëd man or ellës lear’d,
He knows not how soon he shall be afear’d;
Therefore I redë you this counsel take,
Forsakë sin, ere sinnë you forsake.