“O mercy, deare father,” quoth the maid. And with that word she both her armes laid About his neck, as she was wont to do, (The teares burst out of her eyen two), And said, “O goode father, shall I die? Is there no grace? is there no remedy?” “No, certes, deare daughter mine,” quoth he. “Then give me leisure, father mine, quoth she, “My death for to complain* a little space *bewail For, pardie, Jephthah gave his daughter grace For to complain, ere he her slew, alas! <7> And, God it wot, nothing was her trespass,* *offence But for she ran her father first to see, To welcome him with great solemnity.” And with that word she fell a-swoon anon; And after, when her swooning was y-gone, She rose up, and unto her father said: “Blessed be God, that I shall die a maid. Give me my death, ere that I have shame; Do with your child your will, in Godde’s name.” And with that word she prayed him full oft That with his sword he woulde smite her soft; And with that word, a-swoon again she fell. Her father, with full sorrowful heart and fell,* *stern, cruel Her head off smote, and by the top it hent,* *took And to the judge he went it to present, As he sat yet in doom* in consistory. *judgment And when the judge it saw, as saith the story, He bade to take him, and to hang him fast. But right anon a thousand people *in thrast* *rushed in* To save the knight, for ruth and for pity For knowen was the false iniquity. The people anon had suspect* in this thing, *suspicion By manner of the clerke’s challenging, That it was by th’assent of Appius; They wiste well that he was lecherous. For which unto this Appius they gon, And cast him in a prison right anon, Where as he slew himself: and Claudius, That servant was unto this Appius, Was doomed for to hang upon a tree; But that Virginius, of his pity, So prayed for him, that he was exil’d; And elles certes had he been beguil’d;* *see note <8> The remenant were hanged, more and less, That were consenting to this cursedness.* *villainy Here men may see how sin hath his merite:* *deserts Beware, for no man knows how God will smite In no degree, nor in which manner wise The worm of conscience may agrise* frighten, horrify Of wicked life, though it so privy be, That no man knows thereof, save God and he; For be he lewed* man or elles lear’d,** *ignorant **learned He knows not how soon he shall be afear’d; Therefore I rede* you this counsel take, *advise Forsake sin, ere sinne you forsake. Notes to the Doctor’s Tale 1. Livy, Book iii. cap. 44, et seqq. 2. Faconde: utterance, speech; from Latin, “facundia,” eloquence. 3. Slothe: other readings are “thought” and “youth.” 4. Meschance: wickedness; French, “mechancete.”