And with this worde he right anone

Yhent me up bytwene his tone,

And at a windowe in me brought

That in this House was, as me thought,

And therewithal me thought it stent,

940

955

Or els he tolde it opinly,

Right thus, and faid, Ne woft nat thou

That is betiddin, lo! right nowe?

No, certis, (quod he;) tel me what; And than he tolde him this and that, And swore therto that it was fothe, Thus hath he faid, and thus he dothe, And this fhal be', and thus herde I fay, That fhal be founde, that dare I lay;

960

That al the folke that is on lyve
Ne have the konninge to discrive
Tho thingis that I herdin there,
What aloude and what in the ere;
But al the wondir mofte was this,
Whan one had herde a thinge ywis
He came ftreight to anothir wight,
And gan him tellin anone right

The fame tale that to him was tolde
Or it a forlonge way was olde,
And began fomwhat for to eche
Unto this tidinge in his speche
More than evir it spokin was,
And nat fo fone departid n'as

965

970

975

And that encrefinge evirmo,

As fire is wont to quicken and go,

From a sparcle fprongin amis,

Tyl al a cite brent up is.

And whan that that was ful up fpronge,

And waxin more on every tonge

990

1050

For al mote out or late or rathe
Allè the fhevis in the fathe.

I herdin a grete noise withall
Within a cornir of the hal,
There men of love tydingis tolde,
And I gan thidirwarde beholde,
For I fawe renninge every wight

1055

As faste as that they haddin might,

And everyche cride, What thinge is that?

And fome faid, I n'ot nevir what:
And whan they were al on an hepe
Tho thei behinde gonnin up lepe,
And clambin up on othir faste,
And up the noise on hyghin caste,
And tredin faft on othir's heles,
And ftampe, as men done aftir eles:
But at the laste I fawe a man

Whiche that I nought difcrive ne can,

But he yfemid for to be

A man of grete auctorite,

And therewithal I 'anon abraide
Out of my flepè halfe afraide,...
Remembring wel what I had fene,
And howe hye and ferre I had bene,
In my goft, and had grete wonder
Of that the mighty god of Thonder
Had let me knowen, and gan to write
Lyke as ye have herde me endite,

1060

Ιεός

1070

1075

Wherfore to study' and rede alway

I purpose to do day by day.

And thus in dreminge and in game

Endith this litil Boke of Fame.

1080

Here endeth The Boke of Fame.

CERTAINE BALADES, &c.

Here foloweth a godely balade of Chaucer.

MOTUIR of norture, beft beloved of all,

And freshè floure, to whom gode thrift God fende,
Your childe, if it lufte you me fo to call,

All be' l' unable my self so to pretende,
To your difcrecion I recommende

Mine herte and all, with every circumftaunce,
All wholly to be' undir your govirnaunce.
Mofte defire I, and have, and evir shall,
Thing which that might your hert'is efe amende;
Have me excufed, my powir is but small;
Natheleffe of right ye ought for to commende
My gode will, whichè fainè would entende
To doe you fervice, for my
fuffifaunce

Is wholly to be' undir your govirnaunce.

Meulx'un in herte, whiche nevir fhall apall,
Aie freshe and new, and right glad to dispende
My time in your service, what so befall,
Befechyng your excellence to defende
My fimpleneffe if ignoraunce offende
In any wife, fith that myne affiaunce
Is whollie to be' undir your govirnaunce.

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