Was thennè not so hot as I
Of thilkè sore which privily

Mine heartès thought withinne brenneth.
The ship which on the wavès renneth,
And is forstormèd and forblowe,1
Is not more painèd for a throwe?
Than I am thennè when I see
Another which that passeth me
In that fortune of Lovès gift...
But this ye may right well believe,
Toward my lady that I serve,
Though that I wistè for to sterve,3
Mine heart is full of such folly
That I myself may nought chasty.*
When I the court see of Cupide
Approach unto my lady side
Of them that lusty been and fresh,
Though it avail them nought a resh,5
But only that they been of speech,
My sorrow then is not to seech ;6
But, when they rounen in her ear,
Then groweth all my mostè fear;
And, namely, when they talen long,8
My sorrow thennè be so strong,
Of that I see them well at ease,
I can nought tellè my disease.
But, sire, as of 10 my lady-selve,
Though she have wooers ten or twelve,
For no mistrust I have of her
Me grieveth nought."

But netheless I am beknow12
That when I see at any throw,13
Or else if that I may it hear,

16

That she make any man good cheer,
Though I thereof have nought to doon,1
My thought woll entermete1á him soon.
For, though I be myselven strange,1
Envy maketh mine heart to change,
That I am sorrowfully bestad17
Of that I see another glad

14

1 Storm-driven and blown about.

3 Though I knew I should die.

6 Seek. 7 Chiefly. 8 Tell long tales.

11 I do not grieve for mistrust of her.
14 Nothing to do with it. 15 Interpose.

2 For a time.
4 Chastise.
9 Because.
12 To confess.
16 Estranged.

5 Not a rush. 10 As regards. 13 Time. 17 Distressed.

With her; but of other,1 all
Of love what-so may befall,

Or that he fail, or that he speed,
Thereof take I but little heed.

Book II.

LOVE AND HATE.

Confessor. Now list, my son, and thou shalt hear.
Hate is a wrathè nought shewend,2

But of long time gatherend,3
And dwelleth in the heartè locken1
Till he see timè to be wroken.5
And then he sheweth his tempest
More sudden than the wildè beast,
Which woť nothing what mercy is.
My son, art thou knowen' of this?

Lover. My good father, as I ween,s
Now wot I somedeal9 what ye mean.
But I dare safely make an oath
My lady was me10 never loath.11
I woll nought swearè netheless
That I of hate am guiltèless.
For, when I to my lady ply
From day to day, and mercy cry,
And she no mercy on me laith,12
But shortè wordès to me saith,
Though I my lady love algate,13
The wordès must I needès hate,
And wolde they were all dispent,"
Or so far out of londè15 went
That I never after should them hear;
And yet love I my lady dear.
Thus is there hate, as ye may see,
Between my lady's word and me:
The word I hate, and her I love,
Whatso16 shall me betide of love!

14

THE STORY OF PHOEBUS AND DAPHNE.

A maiden whilom1 there was one
Which Daphne hight; 2 and such was none
Of beauty then, as it was said.
Phoebus his love hath on her laid;
And thereupon to her he sought
In his fool-haste, and so besought
That she with him no restè had.
For ever upon her love he grad,3
And she said ever unto him "Nay."
So it befell upon a day,

Cupidè, which hath every chance
Of love under his governance,
Saw Phoebus hasten him so sore;
And, for he should him hasten more,
And yet not speeden at the last,
A dart throughout his heart he cast,
Which was of gold and all a-fire,
That made him many-fold desire
Of love morè than he did.

To Daphne eke in the same stead
A dart of lead he cast, and smote,
Which was all cold and no-thing hot.
And thus Phoebus in lovè brenneth,
And in his haste aboutè renneth
To look if that he mightè win ;
But he was ever to begin.
For ever away fro him she fled,
So that he never his love sped.
And, for to make him full believe
That no fool-hastè might achieve
To getten love in such degree,
This Daphne into a laurel tree
Was twined; which is ever green,
In token, as yet it may be seen,
That she shall dwell a maiden still,
And Phoebus failen of his will.

THE DILIGENT LOVER.

Book III.

Confessor. Now, son, tell me then so,
What hast thou done of busy-ship

1 Place.

To Love, and to the ladyship
Of her which thy lady is?

Lover. My father, ever yet ere this
In every place, in every stead,1
What so my lady hath me bid2
With all my heart obedient
I have thereto been diligent;
And, if so is that she bid nought,
What thing that then into my thought
Comth first of that I may suffice,
I bow and proffer my service,
Sometime in chamber, sometime in hall,
Right as I see the times fall.

And, when she goth to hearè mass,
That timè shall not overpass
That I n'approach her lady-head,
In aunter3 if I may her lead
Unto the chapel and again ;a
Then is not all my way in vain.
But afterward it doth me harm
Of pure imagination;

For thennè this collation5
I make unto myselven oft,

And say: Ha, lord, how she is soft,
How she is round, how she is small ;
Now, wolde God, I had her all
Withoute daunger at my will!
And then I sigh and sittè still,
Of that I see my busy thought
Is turned idle into nought.
But, for all that, let I ne may,"
When I see time another day,
That I ne do my busyness
Unto my lady's worthiness;
For I thereto my wit affaite9
To see the timès and await
What is to done10 and what to leave.
And so, when time is, by her leave,
What thing she bid me done I do ;
And where she bid me gone I go;
And, when her list to clepe,11 I come.
Thus hath she fully overcome

2 Bidden.

5 Comparison. 9 Subdue.

3 To adventure. 4 To the chapel and home again. 8 Service.

6

Fear.

10 Do.

7 I cannot hinder.

11 Call.

Mine idlenessè till I sterve1

So that I must her needès serve;

For, as men sayn,2 "need hath no law;"
Thus must I needly3 to her draw.

I serve, I bow, I look, I lout;
Mine eye followeth her about.
What so she wollè, so woll I;
When she woll sit, I kneelè by;

And, when she stont, then woll I stond;
And, when she taketh her work on hond
Of weaving, or of embroiderie,
Then can I nought but muse and pry
Upon her fingers long and small.
And now I think, and now I tale,
And now I sing, and now I sike,
And thus my countenance I pike."
And, if it fall as for a timè
Her liketh nought abide by me,
But busien her on other things,
Then make I other tarryings
To dretchè forth the longè day;
For me is loth depart away.
And then I am so simple of port10
That, for to feignè some disport,11
I playè with her little hound,
Now on the bed, now on the ground,
Now with the birdès in the cage;
For there is none so little page,
Ne yet so simple a chamberere,12
That I ne make them allè chere,
All for13 they shouldè speakè well.
Thus may ye see my busy wheel,
That goth nought idelich1a about.
And, if her list to riden out
On pelrinage1 or other stead,16
I come, though I be nought bid,17
And take her in mine arm aloft,
And set her in her saddle soft,

And so forth lead her by the bridle,-
For that I woldè not been idle.