That she ne hath foot on which she may sustene ; But forth languisshing ever in this estate, Of which Arcite hath nother routhe ne tene; His herte was elles-where, newe and grene, 180 That on hir wo ne deyneth him not to thinke, Him rekketh never wher she flete or sinke. His newe lady holdeth him so narowe Up by the brydel, at the staves ende, That every word, he dradde hit as an arowe ; 185 Hir daunger made him bothe bowe and bende, And as hir liste, made him turne or wende; For she ne graunted him in hir livinge No grace, why that he hath lust to singe; But drof him forth, unnethe liste hir knowe 190 Nay, certes! ferther wol I never +founde Alas! wher is become your gentilesse! Your wordes fulle of plesaunce and humblesse ? Your observaunces in so low manere, And your awayting and your besinesse 250 Upon me, that ye calden your maistresse, Your sovereyn lady in this worlde here? Alas! and is ther nother word ne chere Ye vouchesauf upon myn hevinesse ? Alas! your love, I bye hit al to dere. 255 5. Now certes, swete, thogh that ye Thus causeles the cause be 220 Of my dedly adversitee, Your manly reson oghte it to respyte To slee your frend, and namely me, 260 That never yet in no degree Offended yow, as wisly he, More then my-self, an hundred thousand sythe, And called him my hertes lyf, my knight, And was al his, as fer as hit was right; And whan that he was glad, than was I blythe, 225 And his disese was my deeth as swythe; And he ayein his trouthe me had plight For ever-more, his lady me to kythe. 2. 325 I fare as doth the song of Chaunte-pleure. The longe night drye, And on the day And of al this recche. 6. 330 this wonder sight I for this afray I dye, 334 right noght, y-wis, ye |