Then saw he knightes jousting in a plain. And after this he did him such pleasance, That he him shew'd his lady on a dance, In which himselfe danced, as him thought. And when this master, that this magic wrought, Saw it was time, he clapp'd his handes two, And farewell, all the revel is y-go.* *gone, removed And yet remov'd they never out of the house, While they saw all the sightes marvellous; But in his study, where his bookes be, They satte still, and no wight but they three. To him this master called his squier,

And said him thus, "May we go to supper? Almost an hour it is, I undertake, Since I you bade our supper for to make, When that these worthy men wente with me Into my study, where my bookes be." "Sir," quoth this squier, "when it liketh you. It is all ready, though ye will right now." "Go we then sup," quoth he, "as for the best; These amorous folk some time must have rest." At after supper fell they in treaty What summe should this master's guerdon* be, *reward To remove all the rockes of Bretagne, And eke from Gironde <16> to the mouth of Seine. He made it strange,* and swore, so God him save, *a matter of Less than a thousand pound he would not have, difficulty* *Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon.* *see note <17>* Aurelius with blissful heart anon Answered thus; "Fie on a thousand pound! This wide world, which that men say is round, I would it give, if I were lord of it. This bargain is full-driv'n, for we be knit;* *agreed Ye shall be payed truly by my troth. But looke, for no negligence or sloth, Ye tarry us here no longer than to-morrow." "Nay," quoth the clerk, *"have here my faith to borrow."* *I pledge my To bed is gone Aurelius when him lest, faith on it* And well-nigh all that night he had his rest, What for his labour, and his hope of bliss, His woeful heart *of penance had a liss.* *had a respite from suffering* Upon the morrow, when that it was day, Unto Bretagne they took the righte way, Aurelius and this magician beside, And be descended where they would abide: And this was, as the bookes me remember, The colde frosty season of December. Phoebus wax'd old, and hued like latoun,* *brass That in his hote declinatioun Shone as the burned gold, with streames* bright; *beams But now in Capricorn adown he light, Where as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn. The bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain, Destroyed have the green in every yard. *courtyard, garden Janus sits by the fire with double beard, And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine: Before him stands the brawn of tusked swine And "nowel"* crieth every lusty man *Noel <18> Aurelius, in all that ev'r he can, Did to his master cheer and reverence, And prayed him to do his diligence To bringe him out of his paines smart, Or with a sword that he would slit his heart. This subtle clerk such ruth* had on this man, *pity That night and day he sped him, that he can, To wait a time of his conclusion; This is to say, to make illusion, By such an appearance of jugglery (I know no termes of astrology), That she and every wight should ween and say, That of Bretagne the rockes were away, Or else they were sunken under ground. So at the last he hath a time found To make his japes* and his wretchedness *tricks Of such a *superstitious cursedness.* *detestable villainy* His tables Toletanes <19> forth he brought, Full well corrected, that there lacked nought, Neither his collect, nor his expanse years, Neither his rootes, nor his other gears, As be his centres, and his arguments, And his proportional convenients For his equations in everything. And by his eighte spheres in his working, He knew full well how far Alnath <20> was shove From the head of that fix'd Aries above, That in the ninthe sphere consider'd is. Full subtilly he calcul'd all this. When he had found his firste mansion, He knew the remnant by proportion; And knew the rising of his moone well, And in whose face, and term, and every deal; And knew full well the moone's mansion Accordant to his operation; And knew also his other observances, For such illusions and such meschances,* *wicked devices As heathen folk used in thilke days. For which no longer made he delays; But through his magic, for a day or tway, <21> It seemed all the rockes were away.

Aurelius, which yet despaired is Whe'er* he shall have his love, or fare amiss, *whether Awaited night and day on this miracle: And when he knew that there was none obstacle, That voided* were these rockes every one, *removed Down at his master's feet he fell anon, And said; "I, woeful wretch'd Aurelius, Thank you, my Lord, and lady mine Venus, That me have holpen from my cares cold." And to the temple his way forth hath he hold, Where as he knew he should his lady see. And when he saw his time, anon right he With dreadful* heart and with full humble cheer** *fearful **mien Saluteth hath his sovereign lady dear. "My rightful Lady," quoth this woeful man, "Whom I most dread, and love as I best can, And lothest were of all this world displease, Were't not that I for you have such disease,* *distress, affliction That I must die here at your foot anon, Nought would I tell how me is woebegone. But certes either must I die or plain;* *bewail Ye slay me guilteless for very pain. But of my death though that ye have no ruth, Advise you, ere that ye break your truth: Repente you, for thilke God above, Ere ye me slay because that I you love. For, Madame, well ye wot what ye have hight;* *promised Not that I challenge anything of right Of you, my sovereign lady, but of grace: But in a garden yond', in such a place, Ye wot right well what ye behighte* me, *promised And in mine hand your trothe plighted ye, To love me best; God wot ye saide so, Albeit that I unworthy am thereto; Madame, I speak it for th' honour of you, More than to save my hearte's life right now; I have done so as ye commanded me, And if ye vouchesafe, ye may go see. Do as you list, have your behest in mind, For, quick or dead, right there ye shall me find; In you hes all to *do me live or dey;* *cause me to But well I wot the rockes be away." live or die*

He took his leave, and she astonish'd stood; In all her face was not one drop of blood: She never ween'd t'have come in such a trap. "Alas!" quoth she, "that ever this should hap! For ween'd I ne'er, by possibility, That such a monster or marvail might be; It is against the process of nature." And home she went a sorrowful creature; For very fear unnethes* may she go. *scarcely She weeped, wailed, all a day or two, And swooned, that it ruthe was to see: But why it was, to no wight tolde she, For out of town was gone Arviragus. But to herself she spake, and saide thus, With face pale, and full sorrowful cheer, In her complaint, as ye shall after hear. "Alas!" quoth she, "on thee, Fortune, I plain,* *complain That unware hast me wrapped in thy chain, From which to scape, wot I no succour, Save only death, or elles dishonour; One of these two behoveth me to choose. But natheless, yet had I lever* lose *sooner, rather My life, than of my body have shame, Or know myselfe false, or lose my name; And with my death *I may be quit y-wis.* *I may certainly purchase Hath there not many a noble wife, ere this, my exemption* And many a maiden, slain herself, alas! Rather than with her body do trespass? Yes, certes; lo, these stories bear witness. <22> When thirty tyrants full of cursedness* *wickedness Had slain Phidon in Athens at the feast, They commanded his daughters to arrest, And bringe them before them, in despite, All naked, to fulfil their foul delight; And in their father's blood they made them dance Upon the pavement, -- God give them mischance. For which these woeful maidens, full of dread, Rather than they would lose their maidenhead, They privily *be start* into a well, *suddenly leaped And drowned themselves, as the bookes tell. They of Messene let inquire and seek Of Lacedaemon fifty maidens eke, On which they woulde do their lechery: But there was none of all that company That was not slain, and with a glad intent Chose rather for to die, than to assent To be oppressed* of her maidenhead. *forcibly bereft Why should I then to dien be in dread? Lo, eke the tyrant Aristoclides, That lov'd a maiden hight Stimphalides, When that her father slain was on a night, Unto Diana's temple went she right, And hent* the image in her handes two, *caught, clasped From which image she woulde never go; No wight her handes might off it arace,* *pluck away by force