Which put me there in double peine,
That what to do ne what to feine
Wift I not, ne what was the best;
Ferre was my hert then fro his rest,
For as I thought that smiling figne
Was tokin that the hert encline
Would to requeftis refonable,
Becaufe Smiling is favorable
To every thing that shall thrive,
So thoughtin I tho anon blive
That Worldleffe answere in no toun
Was tane for obligacioun,
Ne callid furety in no wife
Amongst them that callid ben wife:
Thus was I in a joyous dout,
Sure and unfurift of that rout;
Right as mine hert ythought it were
So more or leffe wexin my fere,
That if one thought ymade it wele
Anothir fhent it everydele,
Till at the last I couth no more,
But purpofed as I did before
To ferve truly my lyv'is space,
Awaiting er the yere of grace,
Which may yfall yet or I fterve,
If that it plese her that I ferve,
And fervid have, and woll do ever,
For thyng is none that me is lever
Than is her service, whofe prefence
Mine heven is whole, and her abfence
An hell all full of divers paines,
Whych to the deth full oft me ftraines.
Thus in my thoughtis as I ftode,
That unneth felt I harme ne gode,
I saw the quene a litil paas
Come where this mighty lord ywas,
And knelid downe in prefence there
Of all the ladies that there were,
With fobir countinaunce avifed,
In few wordis that well fuffifed,
And to this lord anon prefent
A bill, wherein whole her entent
Was writtin, and how she besought,
As he knew every will and thought,
That of his godhed and his grace
He would forgyve all old trespace,
And undifplefed be of time past,
For fhe would evir be stedfaft,
And in his fervice to the deth
Ufe every thought while fhe had breth,
And fight and wept, and said no more,
Within was writtin all the fore:
At whychè bill the lord gan fmyle,
And faid he would within that yle
Be lord and fyre both est and west,
And cal'd it there his new conqueft,
And faied he trowid her compleint
Should aftir caufe her be corfeint;
And in his fleve he put the bill,
Was there none that yknew his will,
And forth he walke apace about,
Beholding all the lusty rout,
Halfe in a thought with smiling chere,
Till at the laft, as ye shall here,
He turned unto the quene ageine,
And faid, To morne here in this pleine
I woll that ye be and all yours,
That purpofid ben to were flours,
Or of my lufty colour use,
Here will I in ftate be yfene,
And turned his visage to the quene,
And you give knowledge of my will,
And a full anfwere of your bill.
Was there no nay, ne wordis none,
But very' obcifaunt femed echone;
The quene and othir that were there
Well femid it they had grete fere,
And there toke lodging every knight,
Was none departid of that night,
And fome to rede old romances
Them occupied for ther plefances,
Some to make verèlaies and laies,
And fome to othir diverfe plaies,
And I to me a romance toke,
And as I reding was the boke
Methought the spherè had so run
That it was rifing of the fun,
And fuch a pres into the plaine
Affemble gone, that with grete paine
One might for othir go ne stand,
Ne none take othir by the hand,
Withoutin they diftourbid were,
So huge and gret the pres was there.
And aftir that within two houres This mighty lord clad all in floures Of divers colours many' a paire
In his eftate up in the aire
Well nigh two fathom, as his hight,
He fet him there in all ther fight,
And for the quene and for the knight,
And for my lady' and every wight,
In haft he fent, fo that ner one
Was there abfent, but come echone:
And when they thus affemblid were,
As ye have herd me fay you here,
Without more tarrying on hight,
There to be fene of every wight,
Up ftode among the pres above
A counfaylir, fervaunt of Love,
Which femid well of gret eftate,
And fhewid there how no debate
Othir then godely might be used
In gentilneffe and be excused,
Wherefore he faid his lord'is will
Was every wight there fhould be ftill
And in pees, and of one accord,
And thus commaundid at a word,
And can his tongue to fwiche language
To turne, that yet in all mine age
Herd I nevir fo conningly
Man fpeke, ne halfe fo faithfully,
For every thing he faid there
Semid as it infelid were,
Swiche was his cunning language newe,
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