The Tale of Florent

Use the glossary in The Riverside Chaucer for words not glossed in the margins; see also a note on Gower's spellings.

Confessio Amantis, Book I, 1407-1882
































































































Ther was whilom be daies olde 
A worthi knyht, and as men tolde 
He was Nevoeu to th'emperour 
And of his Court a Courteour: 
Wifles he was, Florent he hihte, 
He was a man that mochel myhte, 
Of armes he was desirous, 
Chivalerous and amorous, 
And for the fame of worldes speche, 
Strange aventures forto seche, 
He rod the Marches al aboute. 

And fell a time, as he was oute, 
Fortune, which may every thred 
Tobreke and knette of mannes sped,
Schop, as this knyht rod in a pas, 
That he be strengthe take was, 
And to a Castell thei him ladde, 
Wher that he fewe frendes hadde: 
For so it fell that ilke stounde 
That he hath with a dedly wounde 
Feihtende his oghne hondes slain
Branchus, which to the Capitain 
Was Sone and Heir, wherof ben wrothe 
The fader and the moder bothe. 

That knyht Branchus was of his hond 
The worthieste of al his lond, 
And fain thei wolden do vengance 
Upon Florent, bot remembrance 
That thei toke of his worthinesse 
Of knyhthod and of gentilesse, 
And how he stod of cousinage 
To th'emperour, made hem assuage,
And dorsten noght slen him for fere: 
In gret desputeisoun thei were
Among hemself, what was the beste. 

Ther was a lady, the slyheste 
Of alle that men knewe tho, 
So old sche myhte unethes go, 
And was grantdame unto the dede:
And sche with that began to rede, 
And seide how sche wol bringe him inne, 
That sche schal him to dethe winne 
Al only of his oghne grant, 
Thurgh strengthe of verray covenant 
Withoute blame of eny wiht. 

Anon sche sende for this kniht, 
And of hire Sone sche alleide
The deth, and thus to him sche seide: 
"Florent, how so thou be to wyte 
Of Branchus deth, men schal respite 
As now to take vengement, 
Be so thou stonde in juggement
Upon certein condicioun, 
That thou unto a questioun 
Which I schal axe schalt ansuere; 
And over this thou schalt ek swere, 
That if thou of the sothe faile, 
Ther schal non other thing availe, 
That thou ne schalt thi deth receive. 

And for men schal thee noght deceive, 
That thou therof myht ben avised, 
Thou schalt have day and tyme assised
And leve saufly forto wende, 
Be so that at thi daies ende 
Thou come ayein with thin avys. 

This knyht, which worthi was and wys, 
This lady preith that he may wite, 
And have it under Seales write, 
What questioun it scholde be 
For which he schal in that degree 
Stonde of his lif in jeupartie. 

With that sche feigneth compaignie, 
And seith: "Florent, on love it hongeth 
Al that to myn axinge longeth: 
What alle wommen most desire 
This wole I axe, and in th'empire 
Wher as thou hast most knowlechinge 
Tak conseil upon this axinge." 

Florent this thing hath undertake, 
The day was set, the time take, 
Under his seal he wrot his oth, 
In such a wise and forth he goth 
Hom to his Emes court ayein; 
To whom his aventure plein 
He tolde, of that him is befalle. 
And upon that thei weren alle 
The wiseste of the lond asent, 
Bot natheles of on assent 
Thei myhte noght acorde plat, 
On seide this, an othre that. 
After the disposicioun 
Of naturel complexioun 
To som womman it is plesance, 
That to an other is grevance; 
Bot such a thing in special, 
Which to hem alle in general 
Is most plesant, and most desired 
Above alle othre and most conspired, 
Such o thing conne thei noght finde 
Be Constellacion ne kinde: 
And thus Florent withoute cure 
Mot stonde upon his aventure, 
And is al schape unto the lere,
As in defalte of his answere. 

This knyht hath levere forto dye 
Than breke his trowthe and forto lye 
In place ther as he was swore, 
And schapth him gon ayein therfore. 
Whan time cam he tok his leve, 
That lengere wolde he noght beleve, 
And preith his Em he be noght wroth, 
For that is a point of his oth, 
He seith, that noman schal him wreke, 
Thogh afterward men hiere speke 
That he par aventure deie. 

And thus he wente forth his weie 
Alone as knyht aventurous, 
And in his thoght was curious 
To wite what was best to do: 
And as he rod al one so, 
And cam nyh ther he wolde be, 
In a forest under a tre 
He syh wher sat a creature, 
A lothly wommannysch figure, 
That forto speke of fleisch and bon 
So foul yit syh he nevere non. 

This knyht behield hir redely, 
And as he wolde have passed by, 
Sche cleped him and bad abide; 
And he his horse heved aside 
Tho torneth, and to hire he rod, 
And there he hoveth and abod, 
To wite what sche wolde mene. 

And sche began him to bemene,
And seide: "Florent be thi name, 
Thou hast on honde such a game, 
That bot thou be the betre avised, 
Thi deth is schapen and devised, 
That al the world ne mai the save, 
Bot if that thou my conseil have." 

Florent, whan he this tale herde, 
Unto this olde wyht answerde 
And of hir conseil he hir preide. 
And sche ayein to him thus seide: 
"Florent, if I for the so schape, 
That thou thurgh me thi deth ascape 
And take worschipe of thi dede, 
What schal I have to my mede?" 

"What thing," quod he, "that thou wolt axe." 

"I bidde nevere a betre taxe,"
Quod sche, "bot ferst, er thou be sped, 
Thou schalt me leve such a wedd,
That I wol have thi trowthe in honde 
That thou schalt be myn housebonde." 

"Nay," seith Florent, "that may noght be." 

"Ryd thanne forth thi wey," quod sche, 
"And if thou go withoute red, 
Thou schalt be sekerliche ded." 

Florent behihte hire good ynowh 
Of lond, of rente, of park, of plowh, 
Bot al that compteth sche at noght. 
Tho fell this knyht in mochel thoght, 
Now goth he forth, now comth ayein, 
He wot noght what is best to sein, 
And thoghte, as he rod to and fro, 
That chese he mot on of the tuo, 
Or forto take hire to his wif 
Or elles forto lese his lif. 

And thanne he caste his avantage, 
That sche was of so gret an age, 
That sche mai live bot a while, 
And thoghte put hire in an Ile, 
Wher that noman hire scholde knowe, 
Til sche with deth were overthrowe. 
And thus this yonge lusti knyht 
Unto this olde lothly wiht 
Tho seide: "If that non other chance 
Mai make my deliverance, 
Bot only thilke same speche 
Which, as thou seist, thou schalt me teche, 
Have hier myn hond, I schal thee wedde." 
And thus his trowthe he leith to wedde.

With that sche frounceth up the browe: 
"This covenant I wol allowe," 
Sche seith: "if eny other thing 
Bot that thou hast of my techyng 
Fro deth thi body mai respite, 
I woll thee of thi trowthe acquite, 
And elles be non other weie. 
Now herkne me what I schal seie. 

"Whan thou art come into the place, 
Wher now thei maken gret manace 
And upon thi comynge abyde, 
Thei wole anon the same tide 
Oppose thee of thin answere.
I wot thou wolt nothing forbere 
Of that thou wenest be thi beste, 
And if thou myht so finde reste, 
Wel is, for thanne is ther nomore. 
And elles this schal be my lore, 
That thou schalt seie, upon this Molde 
That alle wommen lievest wolde 
Be soverein of mannes love: 
For what womman is so above, 
Sche hath, as who seith, al hire wille; 
And elles may sche noght fulfille 
What thing hir were lievest have. 

"With this answere thou schalt save 
Thiself, and other wise noght. 
And whan thou hast thin ende wroght, 
Com hier ayein, thou schalt me finde, 
And let nothing out of thi minde." 

He goth him forth with hevy chiere, 
As he that not in what manere 
He mai this worldes joie atteigne: 
For if he deie, he hath a peine, 
And if he live, he mot him binde 
To such on which of alle kinde 
Of wommen is th'unsemlieste: 
Thus wot he noght what is the beste: 
Bot be him lief or be him loth, 
Unto the Castell forth he goth 
His full answere forto yive, 
Or forto deie or forto live. 

Forth with his conseil cam the lord, 
The thinges stoden of record, 
He sende up for the lady sone, 
And forth sche cam, that olde Mone. 
In presence of the remenant 
The strengthe of al the covenant 
Tho was reherced openly, 
And to Florent sche bad forthi 
That he schal tellen his avis, 
As he that woot what is the pris. 
Florent seith al that evere he couthe, 
Bot such word cam ther non to mowthe, 
That he for yifte or for beheste 
Mihte eny wise his deth areste. 

And thus he tarieth longe and late, 
Til that this lady bad algate 
That he schal for the dom final 
Yive his answere in special 
Of that sche hadde him ferst opposed:
And thanne he hath trewly supposed 
That he him may of nothing yelpe, 
Bot if so be tho wordes helpe, 
Whiche as the womman hath him tawht; 
Wherof he hath an hope cawht 
That he schal ben excused so, 
And tolde out plein his wille tho. 

And whan that this Matrone herde 
The manere how this knyht ansuerde, 
Sche seide: "Ha treson, wo thee be, 
That hast thus told the privite, 
Which alle wommen most desire! 
I wolde that thou were afire." 
Bot natheles in such a plit 
Florent of his answere is quit: 

And tho began his sorwe newe, 
For he mot gon, or ben untrewe, 
To hire which his trowthe hadde. 
Bot he, which alle schame dradde, 
Goth forth in stede of his penance, 
And takth the fortune of his chance, 
As he that was with trowthe affaited. 

This olde wyht him hath awaited 
In place wher as he hire lefte: 
Florent his wofull heved uplefte 
And syh this vecke wher sche sat, 
Which was the lothlieste what 
That evere man caste on his yhe: 
Hire Nase bass, hire browes hyhe, 
Hire yhen smale and depe set, 
Hire chekes ben with teres wet, 
And rivelen as an emty skyn
Hangende doun unto the chin, 
Hire Lippes schrunken ben for age, 
Ther was no grace in the visage, 
Hir front was nargh, hir lockes hore,
Sche loketh forth as doth a More, 
Hire Necke is schort, hir schuldres courbe,
That myhte a mannes lust destourbe, 
Hire body gret and nothing smal, 
And schortly to descrive hire al, 
Sche hath no lith withoute a lak;
Bot lich unto the wollesak
Sche proferth hire unto this knyht, 
And bad him, as he hath behyht,
So as sche hath ben his warant, 
That he hire holde covenant, 
And be the bridel sche him seseth.

Bot godd wot how that sche him pleseth 
Of suche wordes as sche spekth: 
Him thenkth welnyh his herte brekth 
For sorwe that he may noght fle, 
Bot if he wolde untrewe be. 

Loke, how a sek man for his hele 
Takth baldemoine with Canele,
And with the Mirre takth the Sucre,
Ryht upon such a maner lucre
Stant Florent, as in this diete: 
He drinkth the bitre with the swete, 
He medleth sorwe with likynge, 
And liveth, as who seith, deyinge; 
His youthe schal be cast aweie 
Upon such on which as the weie 
Is old and lothly overal. 

Bot nede he mot that nede schal: 
He wolde algate his trowthe holde, 
As every knyht therto is holde, 
What happ so evere him is befalle: 
Thogh sche be the fouleste of alle, 
Yet to th'onour of wommanhiede
Him thoghte he scholde taken hiede; 
So that for pure gentilesse, 
As he hire couthe best adresce, 
In ragges, as sche was totore, 
He set hire on his hors tofore 
And forth he takth his weie softe; 
No wonder thogh he siketh ofte. 
Bot as an oule fleth be nyhte
Out of alle othre briddes syhte, 
Riht so this knyht on daies brode 
In clos him hield, and schop his rode
On nyhtes time, til the tyde 
That he cam there he wolde abide; 

And prively withoute noise 
He bringth this foule grete Coise
To his Castell in such a wise 
That noman myhte hire schappe avise, 
Til sche into the chambre cam: 
Wher he his prive conseil nam
Of suche men as he most troste,
And tolde hem that he nedes moste 
This beste wedde to his wif, 
For elles hadde he lost his lif. 

The prive wommen were asent, 
That scholden ben of his assent: 
Hire ragges thei anon of drawe, 
And, as it was that time lawe, 
She hadde bath, sche hadde reste, 
And was arraied to the beste. 
Bot with no craft of combes brode 
Thei myhte hire hore lockes schode,
And sche ne wolde noght be schore 
For no conseil, and thei therfore, 
With such atyr as tho was used, 
Ordeinen that it was excused, 
And hid so crafteliche aboute, 
That noman myhte sen hem oute. 

Bot when sche was fulliche arraied 
And hire atyr was al assaied, 
Tho was sche foulere on to se: 
Bot yit it may non other be, 
Thei were wedded in the nyht; 
So wo begon was nevere knyht 
As he was thanne of mariage. 
And sche began to pleie and rage, 
As who seith, I am wel ynowh; 
Bot he therof nothing ne lowh, 
For sche tok thanne chiere on honde 
And clepeth him hire housebonde, 
And seith, "My lord, go we to bedde, 
For I to that entente wedde, 
That thou schalt be my worldes blisse:" 
And profreth him with that to kisse, 
As sche a lusti Lady were. 

His body myhte wel be there, 
Bot as of thoght and of memoire 
His herte was in purgatoire. 
Bot yit for strengthe of matrimoine 
He myhte make non essoine,
That he ne mot algates plie
To gon to bedde of compaignie: 
And whan thei were abedde naked, 
Withoute slep he was awaked; 
He torneth on that other side, 
For that he wolde hise yhen hyde 
Fro lokynge on that foule wyht. 

The chambre was al full of lyht, 
The courtins were of cendal thinne
This newe bryd which lay withinne, 
Thogh it be noght with his acord, 
In armes sche beclipte hire lord, 
And preide, as he was torned fro, 
He wolde him torne ayeinward tho; 
"For now," sche seith, "we ben bothe on." 
And he lay stille as eny ston, 
Bot evere in on sche spak and preide, 
And bad him thenke on that he seide, 
Whan that he tok hire be the hond. 

He herde and understod the bond, 
How he was set to his penance, 
And as it were a man in trance 
He torneth him al sodeinly, 
And syh a lady lay him by
Of eyhtetiene wynter age, 
Which was the faireste of visage 
That evere in al this world he syh: 
And as he wolde have take hire nyh, 
Sche put hire hand and be his leve 
Besoghte him that he wolde leve, 
And seith that forto wynne or lese 
He mot on of tuo thinges chese, 
Wher he wol have hire such on nyht, 
Or elles upon daies lyht, 
For he schal noght have bothe tuo. 

And he began to sorwe tho, 
In many a wise and caste his thoght, 
Bot for al that yit cowthe he noght 
Devise himself which was the beste. 
And sche, that wolde his hertes reste, 
Preith that he scholde chese algate, 
Til ate laste longe and late 
He seide: "O ye, my lyves hele,
Sey what you list in my querele, 
I not what ansuere I schal yive: 
Bot evere whil that I may live, 
I wol that ye be my maistresse, 
For I can noght miselve gesse 
Which is the beste unto my chois. 
Thus grante I yow myn hole vois, 
Ches for ous bothen, I you preie; 
And what as evere that ye seie, 
Riht as ye wole so wol I." 

"Mi lord," sche seide," grant merci, 
For of this word that ye now sein, 
That ye have mad me soverein, 
Mi destine is overpassed, 
That nevere hierafter schal be lassed 
Mi beaute, which that I now have, 
Til I be take into my grave; 
Bot nyht and day as I am now 
I schal alwey be such to yow. 

"The kinges dowhter of Cizile
I am, and fell bot siththe awhile,
As I was with my fader late, 
That my Stepmoder for an hate, 
Which toward me sche hath begonne, 
Forschop me, til I hadde wonne 
The love and sovereinete 
Of what knyht that in his degre 
Alle othre passeth of good name: 
And, as men sein, ye ben the same, 
The dede proeveth it is so; 
Thus am I youres evermo." 

Tho was plesance and joye ynowh, 
Echon with other pleide and lowh; 
Thei live longe and wel thei ferde, 

And clerkes that this chance herde 
Thei writen it in evidence, 
To teche how that obedience 
Mai wel fortune a man to love 
And sette him in his lust above, 
As it befell unto this knyht. 

Forthi, my Sone, if thou do ryht, 
Thou schalt unto thi love obeie, 
And folwe hir will be alle weie. 
Min holy fader, so I wile: 
For ye have told me such a skile 
Of this ensample now tofore, 
That I schal evermo therfore 
Hierafterward myn observance 
To love and to his obeissance 
The betre kepe: and over this 
Of pride if ther oght elles is, 
Wherof that I me schryve schal, 
What thing it is in special, 
Mi fader, axeth, I you preie. 
Now lest, my Sone, and I schal seie: 
For yit ther is Surquiderie,
Which stant with Pride of compaignie; 
Wherof that thou schalt hiere anon, 
To knowe if thou have gult or non 
Upon the forme as thou schalt hiere: 
Now understond wel the matiere. 






stated, alleged 

if it be so that 



moan, speak 



as a pledge 

ask, question 



forhead was narrow 


limb . . . defect 
sack of wool 



gentian with cinnamon 
myrrh . . . sugar 

the honor 

Cf. WBT 1081 

journey, riding 

ugly womman 


separate, comb 


rich cloth 


saviour of my life 

not long ago 



Text adapted from: The English Works of John Gower, ed. G. C. Macaulay, EETS e.s. 81-82. London. 1900-01.