Thou fiers god of armes, mars the rede Queen Anelida and false Arcyte Chaucer, Geoffrey, d. 1400. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A18557 of text S121657 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 5090). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 21 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 10 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A18557 STC 5090 ESTC S121657 99856828 99856828 22462 2240866663

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A18557) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 22462) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1:02) Thou fiers god of armes, mars the rede Queen Anelida and false Arcyte Chaucer, Geoffrey, d. 1400. [20] p. W. Caxton, [Westminster : 1477?] An edition of: Chaucer, Geoffrey. Queen Anelida and false Arcyte. Title from first line of text, [A]1r. Place of publication and printer's name from and publication date conjectured by STC. In verse. Signatures: [A]¹⁰. Reproduction of the original in the Cambridge University Library. eng eebo Thou fiers god of armes, mars the rede Chaucer, Geoffrey, 1477 20 3193 13 0 0 0 0 0 40.71 D The rate of 40.71 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the D category of texts with between 35 and 100 defects per 10,000 words. 2002-02 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-03 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2002-04 Sampled and proofread 2002-04 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2002-05 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
●hou fiers god of armes / mars the rede That in the frosty contre called trace Within thy grysly temple ful of drede Honourd art as patron of that place With thy bellona / pallas ful of grace Be present and my song contynue & gye At my begynnyng thus to the I crye For it ful depe is sonken in my mynde With pieteus herte in english for tendyte This olde storye in latyn that I fynde Of quene anelida & fals arcyte That elde that all can frete and byte As it hath freten many anoble storye Hath nyh deuoured out of my memorye Be fauorable eke thou polimia On pernaso that with thy sustren glade By elycon / not fer from cirrea Singest with wis memorial in the shade Vnder the laurer the whiche may not fade And do that I my ship to hauen wynue First folowe I stace and after that corynne Whan theseus with werres long & grete Thaspre folk of cithye / had ouercome With laurer crowned in his chare gold bete Home to his contre hool is come For whiche the peple / blisful al and some So cryeden / that to the sterres it wente And hym to honouren / dide al thair entente Biforn this duc in signe of victorie The trompes come / and in his baner large The ymage of mars / & in tokening of glorie Men might see of tresour many a charge Many bright helme & many a spere & targe Mani a fresh kinght & mani a blisful route On hors & fote al the felde aboute Ipolita his wyf / the hardy quene Of cythia / that he conquerd had With emelie / her youg suster shene Fair in a chare of gold / he with hym lad That al the ground aboute her chare she sprad With brightnes of the beaute of her face Fulfillyd with largesse of alle grace With this tryumphe & laurer crowned thus In alle the floure of fortunes yeuyng Lete I this noble prynce Theseus Toward atthenes in his way rydyng And fonde I wil shortly for to bryng The sleyght way of that I gan to write Of quene anelida / and false arcyte Mars that with his furyous cours of Ire Th olde wrathe of Iuno to susfylle Hath sette the peples hertes bothe a fire Of thebes aud grece / eche other to kylle With blody speres / ne rested neuer stylle But throng / now here / now there amonge botle Til eueryche other slowhe so were they wrothe For whan amphiorax and tideus Ipomedon and / parthonope also Were dede and slayn and proud campaneus And whan the wretched brethern two Were slayn and kyng adrastus hom y go So desolate stode thebes / and so bare That no wight / couthe remedye of his fare And whan th olde creon gan espye How the blode ryal was brought adoun He helde that cyte by his tyrannye And dyde the gentyls of that regyoun To ben his frendes / & women in that toun So what for loue of him / & what for awe The noble folk were to the toun ydrawe Among alle these / anelida the quene Of ermonye / was in that toun dwellyng That fayrer was / than is the sonne shene Thurgh the world so gan her name spryng That her to seen / had euery wyght lykyng For as of trouth / is ther none her lyche Of alle the women / in the world ryche Yonge was this quene / of .xx. yere olde Of myddel stature / & of suche fayrnes That nature had a Ioye / her to byholde And for to speke of her stedefastnes She puffed hath penolope & lucres And shortly yf she shal be comprehended In her myght nothyng been amended This theban knyght eke soth to seyne Was yong & ther with al a lusty knyght But he was double in loue & nothing pleyn̄ And subtyl in that craft ouer ony wight And withe his cunnyng wan the lady bright For so ferforth he gan to her trouth ensure That she hym trusted ouer ony crature What shold I seyn she loued arcyte so That whan he was absent ony throwe An̄on her thought her herte brest atwo For in her sight to her he bare hym lowe So that she wend haue al his herte yknowe But he was fals it was but feyned chere Al nedeth not to men suche craft te lere But natheles ful mychel besynes Had he or he myght his lady wynne And sware he wold dye for desires Or from his witte he said he wold twynne Allas the whyle for it was routh & synne That she vpon his sorowes wold rewe But nothing thinketh the fals as the trewe Hye fredam̄ fonde arcyte in suche manere That al was his that she hath / moche or lite Ne to no creature / made she chere Further / than that it lykyth to arcyte Ther nas lack / wherwith he myght her wite She was so ferforth yeuen him to plese That al that lyketh hym it dede her eese Ther nas to her / no maner ●rē sent That touched loue / from ony maner wight That she ne shewid it hym / er it was brent So pleyn she was & dyd her ful myght That she nel hiden nothing from her knyght Lest he of ony vntrouth her vpbreyde With oute bode / his heste she obeyde And eke he made hym Ielouse ouer here That whan ony man had to her said Anon he wold prayen her to swere What was the word / or make him euel paid And than wende she out of her wyt haue brayd But al this nas but sleyght & flaterye Without loue he feyned Ielousye And all this toke she so debonairly That al his will it thought her skilful thing And euer the lenger she loueth hym tenderly And dide hym honour / as he were a kyng Her herte was to hym wedded with a ring So ferforth vpon trouthe / is her entente That where he goth / her herte with hym wente Whan she shal ete / on hym is al her thought That wel vnuethe / of mete toke she kepe And whan that she was to her reste ybrought On hym she thought alway / til that she slepe Whan he was absent / pryuely she wold wepe Thus lyneth fayr anelyda the quene For fals arcyte / that dyd her al this tene This fals arcyte / of his newfanglenes For she to hym / so lowly was and trewe Toke lasse deynte / of her stedfastnes And sawe another lady proude and newe And right anon he clad hym in her hewe Wote I not whether / in whyte rede or grene And falshede fair anelīda the quene But natheles grete wonder was it none Though he was fals / it is kynde of man Syth lameth was / that is so long a goon To be in loue as fals / as euer he can He was the first fader that began To louen two / and was in bygamye And he fond tentes first but yf men lye This fals arcyte / somwhat muste he feyne Whan he was fals / to couere his trayterye Ryght as an hors / that can both bite & pleyne For he bar her on hond / of trecherye And swore / he couthe her doublenes espye And al was falsnes that she to hym ment Thus swore this theef & forth his way he went Allas what herte / myght enduren it For routh & woo / her sorow for to telle Or what man hath the connyng or the witte Or what man myght within the chambre duelle Yf that I reherce shold the helle That suffreth fair anelida the quene For fals arcyte / that dide her al this tene She wepith . wayleth . sw●wneth pytously To ground dede / she falleth as a stone Crampissheth her lymens / ●●ckedly She spekith as her wit were al agone Other colour than asshen / hath she none None other worde speketh she moche or lyte But mercy cruel herte myn arcyte And thus endureth til that she was so mate That she and foot on whiche she may sustene But forth languysshing euer in this astate On whiche arcyte hath couthe non ne tene His herte was els where / newe and grene That on her woo / not deyneth hym to thinke Hym recketh not / whether she flete or synke His newe lady holdeth hym so narow Vp by the brydel / at the staues ende That euery worde / he drad as an arowe Her dannger made hym bothe bowe and bende And as her liste / made hym turne & wende For she ne granteth hym in her lyuyng No grace / why that he hath lust to syng But d●of hym sorth vnnethe ●●st her knowe That he was seruant / vnto her ladyship But leste that he were proud she held hym lowe Thus serueth he / withoute mete or sype She sent hym now to land & now to shype And for she gaf hym daunger / al his fyll Ther fore she had hym / at her owen wyll Ensample of this ye thryfty women alle Taketh hede of anelida and arcyte That for her liste / hym dere herte calle And was so meke / therfore he loueth her lite The kynde of mans herte / is to delyte In thing that strange is / also god me saue For what he may not gete / that wold he haue Now torne we to anelida agayn That pyneth day by day languysshyng But whan she sawe / that her gate no gayn̄ Vpon a day / ful sorowful wepyng She cast her●for to make a compleynyng And of her owen hand she gan it wryte And sende it to her theban knyght arcyte
Here foloweth the compleynt of anelida quene of hermenye vpon false arcyte of Thebes . So thirleth with the point of remembrance The swerd of sorow / whet with fals plesance My hert bare of blisse / & blak of hewe That torned is / in quakyng / al my daunce My sewerte in awhaped contenaunce Syth it auaylleth not to be trewe For who so trewest is it shal her rewe That serueth loue / and doth her obseruance Alway tyl one / and changeth for no newe I wote my self / as wel as ony wight For I loued one with al my hert & myght More than my self / an . C. thousand sythe And called hym / my hertis lyf / my knyght And was all his / as fer as it was right And whan he was glad / than was I blithe And his disese / was my deth as swithe And he agayn / his trouth hath me plight For euermo / his lady me to kythe Now is he fals / alas / and causeles And of my woo / he is so routheles That with a word / hym list not ones deyne To brynge agayn / my sorouful herte in pe● For he is caught vp / in an other lees Ryght as hym lyst / he laweth at my peyne And I ne can my herte / not restreyne For to loue hym / neyther thelees And of alle this / I note to whom̄ to pleyne And shal I pleyne / alas the hard stounde Vnto my foo / that yaf my herte / a wounde And yet desireth / that my harme be more Nay certes / for ther shal neuer be founde None other helpe / my sores for to sounde My destyne hath shape it so / ful yore I wil none other medycyn / ne lore I wyl be ay / ther I was ones bounde That I haue seyd be seyd for euermore Allas / where is bicome your gentillesse Your wordes ful of plesance and humblesse Your obsernances / and lo lowe manere Your awaytyng / and your besynesse Vpon me / that ye called your maistresse Your souerayne of thise world is here Alas / and is ther now no word ●e chere Ye wuchen sauf , vpon my heuynesse Alas / your loue / I bye it al to dere Now certes swete / though that ye Thus causeles / the cause be Of my dedely / aduersite Your manly reson / ought it to respyte To sle your frende / & namely me That neuer yet in no degre Offendyd / as wysly he That al wote / oute of wo my soule quyte But for I was so playn arcyte In al my werkis / moche & lite And so besy / you to delite Myn honour sauf / meke . kynde . and free Therfore ye put on me this wite And also ye reken not a myte Though that the swerd of sorow bite My woful herte / thurgh your cruelte My swete foo / why doo ye so . for shame And thinke ye / that furtherd be / your name To loue a newe / and be vntrewe / nay And put yow / in sklaundre now / & blame And do to me / aduersyte / and grame That loue you most / god thou wost / alwaye Yet come agayn / & be thou playn / some daye And then shal this / the nowe is mis / be game And all foryeue / whyle I lyue / maye Lo herte myn / alle this is for to seyn As whether shal I pray / or ellis pleyn Whiche is the way / to do you to be trewe For eyther mote I han you in my cheyn Or with the deth / ye mote departe vs tweyn Ther lye none other mene weyes newe For god so wysly / on my soule rewe As veryly ye sle me with the peyn That may ye se vnfeyned an my hewe And shold I praye / and weyuen womāhede Nay rather dye / than do so cruell dede And axe mercy causeles / what nede And yf I pleyne / what lyf that I lede Thenne wil ye lawhe I knowe it out of deede And yf that I to you / myn othes bede For myn excuse / a skorn shal be my mede Your chere flourith / but it wil not sede For longe a goo / I ofte han take hede For though I had you to morn ageyn I myght as wel holde apryll for reyn As holden you / to make you stedfaste Alle myghty god of trouth souereyn Wher is the trouthe of man who hath it sleyn Who the hym loueth shal hym fynde as faste As in a tempeste is a roten maste Is that a tame beest / that is ay fayn To fle away / whan he is leest agaste But mercy swete / yf I mys seye Haue I ought seyd out of the weye I note / my witte is half a weye I fare as doth the songe of chanteplure For now I pleyne / and now I pleye I am so marred that I deye Arcyte hath born awey the keye Of alle my world and good auenture For in this world / nys creature Wakyng in more discumfiture Than I / ne more sorow endure And yf I slepe / a furlong weye or twey Thenne thinketh me / your fygure Before me stont / clothid in azure To profren eft / and new assure For to be trewe / and loue me / til he deye The longe nyght / this wonder sight / I drye And on the day / for thilke affray / I dye And of all this right nought ywis ye recche Ne neuer mo / myn eyen two / be drye And to your routhe / & to your trouthe / I crye But we le awey / fer ben they / to fecche Thus holdeth we / my destyne / a wrecche But me to rede / out of this drede / or gye Ne may my wyt / so weyke is it / not strecche Thenne I thus / syn I may do no more I yeue it vp / for now and euermore For shal I neuer / eft putten in balance My sikernes / or lerne of loue the lore But as the swan / I haue herd seye ful yore Agayn his deth / shal syngen his penance So synge I here / my destyne or chance How that arcite / anelida so sore Hath thirled with the peynt of remembrance Thus endeth the compleynt of anelida
The compleint of chaucer vnto his empty purse To you my purs / and to none other wight Compleyne I for ye be my lady dere I am sory now / that ye be light For certes / ye now make me heuy chere Me were as ●ef / be leyd vpon a bere For whiche / vnto your mercy thus I crye Be heuy agayn / or ellis mote I dye Now wuchesauf / this day or yet be nyght That I of yow / the blisful sowne may here Or see your colour like the sonne bright That of yelownes had neuer pere Ye be my lyf / ye be my herte● stere Quene of confort / and of good companye Be heuy agayn / or ellis mote I dye Now purs that be to me my lyues light And saueour / as doun in this world here Out of this toun helpe me by your might Syn that ye wil not be my tresorere For I am ●haue / as nyghe as ony frere But I pray vnto your curtoisye Be heuy agayn / or ellis mote I dye
The nuoye of chaucer vnto the kynge O conquerour of brutes albyon Whiche that by lyne / and fre election Ben veray kynge / this to yow I sende And ye that may / alle harmes amende Haue mynde vpon my supplicacion̄ Explicit . Whan feyth failleth in prestes sawes And lordes hestes ar holden for lawes And robbery is holden purchas And lechery is holden solas Than shal the lond of albyon Be brought to grete confusion̄ Hit falleth for euery gentilm̄an To saye the best that he can In mannes absence And the soth in his presence Hit cometh by kynde of gentil blode To cast away al heuynes And gadre to gidre wordes good The werk of wisedom herith witnes
Et sic est finis