Anoon the feend into his herte ran, And taughte him sodeinly, that he by slighte This mayde to his purpos wynne mighte. For certes, by no fors, ne by no mede, Him thought he was not able for to speede; For sche was strong of frendes, and eek sche Confermed was in such soverayne bounte That wel he wist he might hir never wynne, As for to make hir with hir body synne. And gaf him giftes precious and deere. Whan schapen was al this conspiracye Fro poynt to poynt, how that his lecherie Parformed scholde be ful subtilly, As ye schul here after-ward openly, Hom goth this clerk, that highte Claudius. This false juge, that highte Apius,— (So was his name, for it is no fable, But knowen for a storial thing notable; The sentence of it soth is out of doubte), This false jugge goth now fast aboute To hasten his delit al that he may. And so bifel, soone after on a day This false juge, as telleth us the story, As he was wont, sat in his consistory, And gaf his domes upon sondry caas; This false clerk com forth a ful good paas, And saide, 'Lord, if that it be your wille, As doth me right upon this pitous bille, In which I pleyne upon Virginius. And if he wile seyn it is nought thus, I wil it prove, and fynde good witnesse, That soth is that my bille wol expresse.' The juge answerd, 'Of this in his absence I may not give diffinityf sentence. Let do him calle, and I wol gladly hiere; Thou schalt have alle right, and no wrong heere. Virginius com to wite the jugges wille, And right anoon was red this cursed bille; The sentence of it was as ye schul heere. 'To yow, my lord sire Apius so deere, Scheweth youre pore servaunt Claudius, How that a knight called Virginius, Ageins the lawe, agens alle equyte, Holdeth, expresse ageinst the wille of me, My servaunt, which that my thral is by right, Which fro myn hous was stolen on a night Whiles sche was ful yong, that wol I preve By witnesse, lord, so that ye yow not greve: Sche is nought his doughter, what so he say, Wherfore to yow, my lord the jugge, I pray, Yelde me my thralle, if that it be your wille.' Lo, this was al the sentence of the bille. Virginius gan upon the clerk byholde; But hastily, er he his tale tolde, And wolde have proved it, as schold a knight, And eek by witnessyng of many a wight, That al was fals that sayde his adversarie, This cursed juge wold no lenger tarye, Ne heere a word more of Virginius, But gaf his jugement, and saide thus; 'I deme anoon this clerk his servaunt have. Thou schalt no lengur in thin hous hir save. Go bringe hir forth, and put hir in oure warde. This clerk schal have his thral; thus I awarde.' And whan this worthy knight Virginius, Thurgh thassent of this juge Apius, Moste by force his deere doughter given Unto the juge, in lecchery to lyven, He goth him hom, and sette him in his halle, And leet anoon his deere doughter calle; And with a face deed as aisshen colde, Upon hir humble face he gan byholde, Sche riseth up, and to hir fader sayde; 'Blessed be God, that I schal deye a mayde. Geve me my deth, er that I have a schame. Do with your child your wille, a goddes name!' And with that word sche prayed him ful ofte, That with his swerd he schulde smyte hir softe; And with that word on swoune doun sche fel. Hir fader, with ful sorwful hert and fel, Hir heed of smoot, and by the top it hente, And to the juge bigan it to presente, He bad to take him, and honge him faste. For knowen was the fals iniquite. By maner of this clerkes chalengyng, 'Than geve me leve, fader myn,' quod The remenaunt were anhanged, more and sche, 'My deth for to compleyne a litel space; For pardy Jepte gaf his doughter grace For to compleyne, er he hir slough, allas! And God it woot, no thing was hir trespas, But that sche ran hir fader first to se, To welcome him with gret solempnite.' And with that word aswoun sche fel anoon, And after, whan hir swownyng was agoon, lesse, That were consented to this cursednesse. Her may men se how synne hath his merite; Be war, for no man woot how God wol smyte In no degre, ne in which maner wise SIR THOMAS MALORY (Fifteenth Century) From LE MORTE D'ARTHUR The Last Battle and the Passing of Arthur, THEN were they condescended that King Arthur and Sir Mordred should meet betwixt both their hosts, and every each of them should bring fourteen persons; and they came with this word unto Arthur. Then said he: I am glad that this is done: and so he went into the field. And when Arthur should depart, he warned all his host that an they see any sword drawn: Look ye come on fiercely, and slay that traitor, Sir Mordred, for I in no wise trust him. In likewise Sir Mordred warned his host that: An ye see any sword drawn, look that ye come on fiercely, and so slay all that ever before you standeth; for in no wise I will not trust for this treaty, for I know well my father will be avenged on me. And so they met as their appointment was, and so they were agreed and accorded thoroughly; and wine was fetched, and they drank. Right soon came an adder out of a little heath bush, and it stung a knight on the foot. And when the knight felt him stung, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the adder, and thought of none other harm. And when the host on both parties saw that sword drawn, then they blew beamous, trumpets, and horns, and shouted grimly. And so both hosts dressed them together. And King Arthur took his horse, and said: Alas this unhappy day! and so rode to his party. And Sir Mordred in likewise. And never was there seen a more dolefuller battle in no Christian land; for there was but rushing and riding, foining and striking, and many a grim word was there spoken either to other, and many a deadly stroke. But ever King Arthur rode throughout the battle of Sir Mordred many times, and did full nobly as a noble king should, and at all times he fainted never; and Sir Mordred that day put him in devoir, and in great peril. And thus they fought all the long day, and never stinted till the noble knights were laid to the cold earth; and ever they fought still till it was near night, and by that time was there an hundred thousand laid dead upon the down. Then was Arthur wood wroth out of measure, when he saw his people so slain from him. Then the king looked about him, and then was he ware, of all his host and of all his good knights, were left no more on live but two knights; that one was Sir Lucan the Butler, and his brother Sir Bedivere, and they were full sore wounded. Jesu mercy, said the king, where are all my noble knights become? Alas that ever I should see this doleful day, for now, said Arthur, I am come to mine end. But would to God that I wist where were that traitor Sir Mordred, that hath caused all this mischief. Then was King Arthur ware where Sir Mordred leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. Now give me my spear, said Arthur unto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the traitor that all this woe hath wrought. Sir, let him be, said Sir Lucan, for he is unhappy; and if ye pass this unhappy day ye shall be right well revenged upon him. Good lord, remember ye of your night's dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you this night, yet God of his great goodness hath preserved you hitherto. Therefore, for God's sake, my lord, leave off by this, for blessed be God ye have won the field, for here we be three on live, and with Sir Mordred is none on live; and if ye leave off now this wicked day of destiny is past. Tide me death, betide me life, saith the king, now I see him yonder alone he shall never escape mine hands, for at a better avail shall I never have him. God speed you well, said Sir Bedivere. Then the king gat his spear in both his hands, and ran toward Sir Mordred, crying: Traitor, now is thy death day And when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him with his sword drawn in his hand. And there King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with a foin of his spear, throughout the body, more than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death wound he thrust himself with the might that he had up to the bur of King Arthur's spear. And right so he smote his father Arthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth; and the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he swooned ofttimes. And Sir Lucan the Butler and Sir Bedivere ofttimes heave him up. And so weakly they led him betwixt them both, to a little chapel not far from the seaside. And when the king was there he thought him well eased. Then heard they people cry in the field. Now go thou, Sir Lucan, said the king, and do me to wit what betokens that noise in the field. So Sir Lucan departed, for he was grievously wounded in many places. And so as he yede, he saw and hearkened by the moonlight, how that pillers and robbers were come into the field, to pill and to rob many a full noble knight of brooches, and beads, of many a good ring, and of many a rich jewel; and who that were not dead all out, there they slew them for their harness and their riches. When Sir Lucan understood this work, he came to the king as soon as he might, and told him all what he had heard and seen. Therefore by my rede, said Sir Lucan, it is best that we bring you to some town. I would it were so, said the king. But I may not stand, mine head works so. Ah Sir Launcelot, said King Arthur, this day have I sore missed thee: alas, that ever I was against thee, for now have I my death, whereof Sir Gawaine me warned in my dream. Then Sir Lucan took up the king the one part, and Sir Bedivere the other part, and in the lifting the king swooned; and Sir Lucan fell in a swoon with the lift, that the part of his guts fell out of his body, and therewith the noble knight's heart brast. And when the king awoke, he beheld Sir Lucan, how he lay foaming at the mouth, and part of his guts lay at his feet. Alas, said the king, this is to me a full heavy sight, to see this noble duke so die for my sake, for he would have holpen me, that had more need of help than I. Alas, he would not complain him, his heart was so set to help me: now Jesu have mercy upon his soul! Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother. Leave this mourning and weeping, said the king, for all this |