# The Legend of Good Women/Appendix/Balade
### Appendix -- Balade

| | Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere; |
| | Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun; |
| | Hyd, Ionathas, al thy frendly manere; |
| | Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun, |
| | Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun; |
| | Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude and Eleyne, |
| | Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne. |
| 210 | Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere, |
| | Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun, |
| | And Polixene, that boghte love so dere, |
| | Eek Cleopatre, with al thy passioun, |
| | Hyde ye your trouthe in love and your renoun; |
| | And thou, Tisbe, that hast for love swich peyne; |
| | Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne. |
| | Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle in-fere, |
| | And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun, |
| | And Canace, espyed by thy chere, |
| 220 | Ysiphile, betrayed with Jasoun, |
| | Mak of your trouthe in love no bost ne soun; |
| | Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye pleyne; |
| | Alceste is here, that al that may desteyne. |
| | Whan that this balade al y-songen was, |
| | Upon the softe and swote grene gras |
| | They setten hem ful softely adoun, |
| | By ordre alle in compas, alle enveroun. |
| | First sat the god of love, and than his quene |
| | With the whyte coroun, clad in grene; |
| 230 | And sithen al the remenant by and by, |
| | As they were of degree, ful curteisly; |
| | Ne nat a word was spoken in the place |
| | The mountance of a furlong-wey of space. |
| | I, lening faste by under a bente, |
| | Abood, to knowen what this peple mente, |
| | As stille as any stoon; til at the laste, |
| | The god of love on me his eye caste, |
| | And seyde, "who resteth ther?" and I answerde |
| | Un-to his axing, whan that I him herde, |
| 240 | And seyde, "sir, hit am I"; and cam him neer, |
| | And salued him. Quod he, "what dostow heer |
| | In my presence, and that so boldely? |
| | For it were better worthy, trewely, |
| | A werm to comen in my sight than thou." |
| | "And why, sir," quod I, "and hit lyke yow?" |
| | "For thou," quod he, "art ther-to nothing able. |
| | My servaunts been alle wyse and honourable. |
| | Thou art my mortal fo, and me warreyest, |
| | And of myne olde servaunts thou misseyest, |
| 250 | And hindrest hem with thy translacioun, |
| | And lettest folk to han devocioun |
| | To serven me, and haldest hit folye |
| | To troste on me. Thou mayest hit nat denye; |
| | For in pleyn text, hit nedeth nat to glose, |
| | Thou hast translated the Romauns of the Rose, |
| | That is an heresye ageyns my lawe, |
| | And makest wyse folk fro me withdrawe. |
| | And thinkest in thy wit, that is ful cool |
| | The he nis but a verray propre fool |
| 260 | That loveth paramours, to harde and hote. |
| | Wel wot I ther-by thou beginnest dote |
| | As olde foles, whan hir spirit fayleth; |
| | Than blame they folk, and wite nat what hem ayleth. |
| | Hast thou nat mad in English eek the book |
| | How that Crisseyde Troilus forsook, |
| | In shewinge how that wemen han don mis? |
| | But natheles, answere me not to this, |
| | Why noldest thou as wel han seyd goodnesse |
| | Of wemen, as thou hast seyd wikkednesse? |
| 270 | Was ther no good matere in thy minde, |
| | Ne in alle thy bokes coudest thou nat finde |
| | Sum story of wemen that were goode and trewe? |
| | Yis! god wot, sixty bokes olde and newe |
| | Hast thou thy-self, alle fulle of stories grete, |
| | That bothe Romains and eek Grekes trete |
| | Of sundry wemen, which lyf that they ladde, |
| | And ever an hundred gode ageyn oon badde. |
| | This knoweth god, and alle clerkes eke, |
| | That usen swiche materes for to seke. |
| 280 | What seith Valerie, Titus, or Claudian? |
| | What seith Ierome ageyns Iovinian? |
| | How clene maydens, and how trewe wyves, |
| | How stedfast widwes during al his lyves, |
| | Telleth Jerome; and that nat of a fewe, |
| | But, I dar seyn, an hundred on a rewe; |
| | That hit is pitee for to rede, and routhe, |
| | The wo that they enduren for hir trouthe. |
| | For to hir love were they so trewe, |
| | That rather than they wolde take a newe, |
| 290 | They chosen to be dede in sundry wyse, |
| | And deyden, as the story wol devyse; |
| | And some were brend, and some were cut the hals, |
| | And some dreynt, for they wolden nat be fals. |
| | For alle keped they hir maydenhed, |
| | Or elles wedlok, or hir widwehed. |
| | And this thing was nat kept for holinesse, |
| | But al for verray vertu and clennesse, |
| | And for men shulde sette on hem no lak; |
| | And yit they weren hethen, al the pak, |
| 300 | That were so sore adrad of alle shame. |
| | These olde wemen kepte so hir name, |
| | That in this world I trow men shal nat finde |
| | A man that coude be so trewe and kinde, |
| | As was the leste woman in that tyde. |
| | What seith also the epistels of Ovyde |
| | Of trewe wyves, and of hir labour? |
| | What Vincent, in his Storial Mirour? |
| | Eek al the world of autours maystow here, |
| | Cristen and hethen, trete of swich matere; |
| 310 | It nedeth nat alday thus for tendyte. |
| | But yit I sey, what eyleth thee to wryte |
| | The draf of stories, and forgo the corn? |
| | By seint Venus, of whom that I was born, |
| | Although [that] thou reneyed hast my lay, |
| | As othere olde foles many a day, |
| | Thou shalt repente hit, that hit shal be sene!" |
| | Than spak Alceste, the worthieste quene, |
| | And seyde, "god, right of your curtesye, |
| | Ye moten herknen if he can replye |
| 320 | Agayns these points that ye han to him meved; |
| | A god ne sholde nat be thus agreved, |
| | But of his deitee he shal be stable, |
| | And therto rightful and eek merciable. |
| | He shal nat rightfully his yre wreke |
| | Or he have herd the tother party speke. |
| | Al ne is nat gospel that is to yow pleyned; |
| | The god of love herth many a tale y-feyned. |
| | For in your court is many a losengeour, |
| | And many a queynte totelere accusour, |
| 330 | That tabouren in your eres many a thing, |
| | For hat, or for Ielous imagining, |
| | And for to han with yow som daliaunce. |
| | Envye (I prey to god yeve his mischaunce!) |
| | Is lavender in the grete court alway. |
| | For she ne parteth, neither night ne day, |
| | Out of the hous of Cesar; thus seith Dante; |
| | Who-so that goth, alwey she moot [nat] wante. |
| | This man to yow may wrongly been accused, |
| | Ther as by right him oghte been excused. |
| 340 | Or elles, sir, for that this man is nyce, |
| | He may translate a thing in no malyce, |
| | But for he useth bokes for to make, |
| | And takth non heed of what matere he take; |
| | Therfor he wroot the Rose and eek Crisseyde |
| | Of innocence, and niste what he seyde; |
| | Or him was boden make thilke tweye |
| | Of som persone, and durste hit nat with-seye; |
| | For he hath writen many a book er this. |
| | He ne hath nat doon so grevously amis |
| 350 | To translaten that olde clerkes wryten, |
| | As thogh that he of malice wolde endyten |
| | Despyt of love, and hadde him-self y-wroght. |
| | This shulde a rightwys lord han in his thoght, |
| | And nat be lyk tiraunts of Lumbardye, |
| | That usen wilfulhed and tirannye. |
| | For he that king or lord is naturel, |
| | Him oghte nat be tiraunt ne cruel, |
| | As is a fermour, to doon the harm he can. |
| | He moste thinke hit is his lige man, |
| 360 | And that him oweth, of verray duetee, |
| | Shewen his peple pleyn benignitee, |
| | And wel to here hir excusaciouns, |
| | And hir compleyntes and peticiouns, |
| | In duewe tyme, whan they shal hit profre. |
| | This is the sentence of the philosophre: |
| | A king to kepe his liges in Iustyce; |
| | With-outen doute, that is his offyce. |
| | And therto is a king ful depe y-sworn, |
| | Ful many an hundred winter heer-biforn; |
| 370 | And for to kepe his lordes hir degree, |
| | As hit is right and skilful that they be |
| | Enhaunced and honoured, and most dere -- |
| | For they ben half-goddes in this world here -- |
| | This shal he doon, bothe to pore [and] riche, |
| | Al be that here stat be nat a-liche, |
| | And han of pore folk compassioun, |
| | For lo, the gentil kind of the lioun! |
| | For whan a flye offendeth him or byteth, |
| | He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth |
| 380 | Al esily; for, of his genterye, |
| | Him deyneth nat to wreke him on a flye, |
| | As doth a curre or elles another beste. |
| | In noble corage oghte been areste, |
| | And weyen every thing by equitee, |
| | And ever han reward to his owen degree. |
| | For, sir, hit is no maystrie for a lord |
| | To dampne a man with-oute answere or word; |
| | And, for a lord, that is ful foul to use. |
| | And if so be he may him nat excuse, |
| 390 | [But] axeth mercy with a sorweful herte, |
| | And profreth him, right in his bare sherte, |
| | To been right at your owne Iugement, |
| | Than oghte a god, by short avysement, |
| | Considre his owne honour and his trespas. |
| | For sith no cause of deeth lyth in his cas, |
| | Yow oghte been the lighter merciable; |
| | Leteth your yre, and beth somwhat tretable! |
| | The man hath served yow of his conning, |
| | And forthered your lawe with his making. |
| 400 | Whyl he was yong, he kepte your estat; |
| | I not wher he be now a renegat. |
| | But wel I wot, with that he can endyte, |
| | He hath maked lewed folk delyte |
| | To serve you, in preysing of your name. |
| | He made of the book that hight the Hous of Fame, |
| | And eek the Deeth of Blaunche the Duchesse, |
| | And the Parlement of Foules, and I gesse, |
| | And al the love of Palamon and Arcyte |
| | Of Thebes, thogh the story is knowen lyte; |
| 410 | And many an ympne for your halydayes, |
| | That highten Balades, Roundels, Virelayes; |
| | And, for to speke of other besinesse, |
| | He hath in prose translated Boece; |
| | And of the Wreched Engendering of Mankinde, |
| | As man may in pope Innocent y-finde; |
| | And mad the Lyf also of seynt Cecyle; |
| | He made also, goon sithen a greet whyl, |
| | Origenes upon the Maudeleyne; |
| | Him oghte now to have the lesse peyne; |
| 420 | He hath mad many a lay and many a thing. |
| | "Now as ye been a god, and eek a king, |
| | I, your Alceste, whylom quene of Trace, |
| | I axe yow this man, right of your grace, |
| | That ye him never hurte in al his lyve; |
| | And he shal sweren yow, and that as blyve, |
| | He shal no more agilten in this wyse; |
| | But he shal maken, as ye wil devyse, |
| | Of wemmen trewe in lovinge al hir lyve, |
| | Wher-so ye wil, of maiden or of wyve, |
| 430 | And forthren yow, as muche as he misseyde |
| | Or in the Rose or elles in Crisseyde." |
| | The god of love answerde hir thus anoon, |
| | "Madame," quod he, "hit is so long agoon |
| | That I yow knew so charitable and trewe, |
| | That never yit, sith that the world was newe, |
| | To me ne fond I better noon than ye. |
| | That, if that I wol save my degree, |
| | I may ne wol nat warne your requeste; |
| | Al lyth in yow, doth with him as yow leste |
| 440 | And al foryeve, with-outen lenger space; |
| | For who-so yeveth a yift, or doth a grace, |
| | Do hit by tyme, his thank is wel the more; |
| | And demeth ye what he shal do therfore. |
| | Go thanke now my lady heer," quod he. |
| | I roos, and doun I sette me on my knee, |
| | And seyde thus: "madame, the god above |
| | Foryelde yow, that ye the god of love |
| | Han maked me his wrathe to foryive; |
| | And yeve me grace so long for to live, |
| 450 | That I may knowe soothly what ye be |
| | That han me holpen, and put in swich degree. |
| | But trewely I wende, as in this cas, |
| | Naught have agilt, ne doon to love trespas. |
| | Forwhy a trewe man, with-outen drede, |
| | Hath nat to parten with a theves dede; |
| | Ne a trewe lover oghte me nat blame, |
| | Thogh that I speke a fals lover som shame. |
| | They oghte rather with me for to holde, |
| | For that I of Creseyde wroot or tolde, |
| 460 | Or of the Rose; what-so myn auctour mente, |
| | Algate, god wot, hit was myn entente |
| | To forthren trouthe in love and hit cheryce; |
| | And to be war fro falsnesse and fro vyce |
| | By swich ensample; this was my meninge." |
| | And she answerde, "lat be thyn arguinge; |
| | For Love ne wol nat countrepleted be |
| | In right ne wrong; and lerne this at me! |
| | Thou hast thy grace, and hold thee right ther-to. |
| | Now wol I seyn what penance thou shalt do |
| 470 | For thy trespas, and understond hit here: |
| | Thou shalt, whyl that thou livest, yeer by yere, |
| | The moste party of thy lyve spende |
| | In making of a glorious Legende |
| | Of Gode Wemen, maidenes and wyves, |
| | That were trewe in lovinge al hir lyves; |
| | And telle of false men that hem bitrayen, |
| | That al hir lyf ne doon nat but assayen |
| | How many wemen they may doon a shame; |
| | For in your world that is now holden game. |
| 480 | And thogh thee lesteth nat a lover be, |
| | Spek wel of love; this penance yeve I thee. |
| | And to the god of love I shal so preye, |
| | That he shal charge his servants, by any weye, |
| | To forthren thee, and wel thy labour quyte; |
| | Go now thy wey, thy penance is but lyte." |
| | The god of love gan smyle, and than he seyde, |
| | "Wostow," quod he, "wher this be wyf or mayde, |
| | Or quene, or countesse, or of what degree, |
| | That hath so litel penance yeven thee, |
| 490 | That hast deserved sorer for to smerte? |
| | But pitee renneth sone in gentil herte; |
| | That mayst thou seen, she kytheth what she is." |
| | And I answerde, "nay, sir, so have I blis, |
| | No more but that I see wel she is good." |
| | "That is a trewe tale, by myn hood," |
| | Quod Love, "and that thou knowest wel, pardee, |
| | If hit be so that thou avyse thee. |
| | Hastow nat in a book, lyth in thy cheste, |
| | The grete goodnesse of the quene Alceste, |
| 500 | That turned was into a dayesye: |
| | She that for hir husbande chees to dye, |
| | And eek to goon to helle, rather than he, |
| | And Ercules rescued hir, pardee, |
| | And broghte hir out of helle agayn to blis?" |
| | "And I answerde ageyn, and seyde, "yis, |
| | Now knowe I hir! And is this good Alceste, |
| | The dayesye, and myn owne hertes reste? |
| | Now fele I wel the goodnesse of this wyf, |
| | That bothe after hir deeth, and in hir lyf, |
| 510 | Hir grete bountee doubleth hir renoun! |
| | Wel hath she quit me myn affeccioun |
| | That I have to hir flour, the dayesye! |
| | No wonder is thogh Iove hir stellifye, |
| | As telleth Agaton, for hir goodnesse! |
| | Hir whyte coroun berth of hit witnesse; |
| | For also many vertues hadde she, |
| | As smale floures in hir coroun be. |
| | In remembraunce of hir and in honour, |
| | Cibella made the dayesy and the flour |
| 520 | Y-coroned al with whyt, as men may see; |
| | And Mars yaf to hir coroun reed, pardee, |
| | In stede of rubies, set among the whyte." |
| | Therwith this quene wex reed for shame a lyte, |
| | Whan she was preysed so in hir presence. |
| | Than seyde Love, "a ful gret negligence |
| | Was hit to thee, to write unstedfastnesse |
| | Of women, sith thou knowest hir goodnesse |
| | By preef, and eek by stories heer-biforn; |
| | Let be the chaf, and wryt wel of the corn. |
| 530 | Why noldest thou han writen of Alceste, |
| | And leten Criseide been a-slepe and reste? |
| | For of Alceste shuld thy wryting be, |
| | Sin that thou wost that kalender is she |
| | Of goodnesse, for she taughte of fyn lovinge, |
| | And namely of wyfhood the livinge, |
| | And alle the boundes that she oghte kepe; |
| | Thy litel wit was thilke tyme a-slepe. |
| | But now I charge thee, upon thy lyf, |
| | That in thy Legend thou make of this wyf, |
| 540 | Whan thou hast other smale mad before; |
| | And fare now wel, I charge thee no more. |
| | "At Cleopatre I wol that thou beginne; |
| | And so forth; and my love so shalt thou winne." |
| | And with that word of sleep I gan a-awake, |
| | And right thus on my Legend gan I make. |
| | Explicit prohemium |