Thou spake a jape not longe ago,-
And, sir, that was ryght yvel do,-
Of a yonge man that here repayrede,
And never yet thys place apayrede.
Thou saydest he awayted nothynge,
But to deceyve Fayre-welcomyng.
Ye sayde nothyng soth of that;
But, sir, ye lye; I tel you plat;1
He ne cometh no more, ne goth, parde!
I trowe ye shal hym never se.
"Fayre-welcomynge in prison is,
That ofte hath played with you er thys
The fayrest games that he coude,
Withoute fylthe, styl2 or loude;
Nowe dare he not himselfe solace.
Ye han also the man do chase,
That he dare neyther come ne go.
"What meveth you to hate hym so,
But properly your wycked thought,
That many a false leasyng hath thought?
That meveth youre foole eloquence,
That jangleth ever in audience,
And on the folke areyseth blame,
And doth hem dishonour and shame,
For thyng that maye have no prevyng,
But lykelynesse, and contryvyng.
For I dare sayne, that Reason demeth.
It is not al soth thynge that semeth,
And it is synne to controve
Flatly (Fr. plat, Ger. platt). 2 Still. Exciteth. Invent (Fr antrouver).
Thynge that is for to reprove;
Thys wote ye wele. And, syr, therfore
Ye arne to blame the more.
And, nathlesse, he recketh lyte ;
He geveth nat nowe therof a myte;
For yf he thoughte harme, parfaye,
He wolde come and gone al daye;
He coude not himselfe abstene.
"Nowe cometh he not, and that is sene,
For he ne taketh of it no cure,
But yf it be through aventure,
And lasse than other folke algate.
And thou her watchest at the gate,
With speare in thyne arest alwaye ;
There muse, musard,1 al the daye ;
Thou wakest nyght and daye for thought;
Iwys thy traveyle is for nought.
And Jelosy, withouten fayle,
Shal never quyte the thy travayle.
"And skath is that Fayre-welcomyng, Wythoute any trespassyng,
Shal wrongfully in prison be,
There wepeth and languysheth he.
And though thou never yet, ywys,
Agyltest man no more but thys,
Take not a-greefe, - it were worthy
To putte the out of thys bayly,
And afterwarde in prison lye,
And fettre the tyl that thou dye;
For thou shalt for this synne dwelle
Right in the devels ers of helle,1
But-if that thou repente thee."
"Mafay, thou liest falsly!" quod he. 7580 "What? welcome, with myschaunce nowe ! Have I therfore i-herberd yowe
To seye me shame, and eke reprove?
With sory happe to youre bihove,
Am I to day youre herbergere!
Go, herber yow elles-where than heere,
That han a lyer callede me.
Two tregetours art thou and he,
That in myn hous do me this shame,
And for my sothe-saugh ye me blame.
"Is this the sermoun that ye make?
To alle the develles I me take,
Or elles, God, thou me confounde,
But er men diden this castel founde,
It passith not ten daies or twelve,
But it was tolde right to my selve,
And as they seide, right so tolde I,
He kyste the rose pryvyly.
"Thus seide I now, and have seid yore;
I not 5 where he dide ony more.
Why shulde men sey me such a thyng,
If it ne hadde bene gabbyng?
Ryght so seide I, and wole seye yit ;
I trowe I liede not of it,
1 The coarseness is English. Cf. Canterbury Tales, 1. 11,732 That is, Wikked-tonge. 3 Lodge. 4 Tricksters. 5 Know not.
66 THIS MAN YOW LOVETH." 473
And with my bemes1 I wole blowe
To alle neighboris a-rowe,
How he hath bothe comen and gone."
Tho spake Fals-semblant right anone,
"Alle is not gospel, oute of doute,
That men seyn in the towne aboute;
Ley no deef ere to my spekyng,
I swere yow, sir, it is gabbyng.
I trowe ye wote wel certeynly,
That no man loveth hym tenderly,
That seith hym harme, if he wote it,
Alle be he never so pore of wit.
And soth is also sikerly,
This knowe ye, sir, as wel as I, —
That lovers gladly wole visiten
The places there her loves habiten.
This man yow loveth and eke honoureth;
This man to serve you laboureth;
And clepith you his freend so deere,
And this man makith you good chere,
And every where that you meteth,
He yow saloweth, and he you greteth.
He preseth not so ofte, that ye
Ought of his come 2 encombred be;
Ther presen other folk on yow
Fulle ofter than he doth now.
And if his herte hym streynede so
Unto the rose for to go,
Ve shulde hym sene so ofte, nede,3
Trumpets. Cf. Canterbury Tales, 1. 9010. ? Coming.
That
ye shulde take hym with the dede;1
He cowde his comyng not forbere,
Though ye hym thirlled with a spere;
It nere not thanne as it is now.
"But trustith wel, I swere it yow,
That it is clene out of his thought.
Sir, certis, he ne thenkith it nought;
No more ne doth Faire-welcomyng,
That sore abiethal this thing.
And if they were of oon assent,
Fulle soone were the rose hent,
The maugre youres,* wolde be.
"And, sir, of o thing herkeneth me:
Sith ye this man, that loveth yow,
Han seid such harme and shame, now
Witeth wel, if he gessed it,
Ye may wel demen in youre wit,
He nolde no thyng love you so,
Ne callen you his freende also,
But nyght and day he wole wake,"
The castelle to destroie and take,
If it were soth as ye devise ;
Or some man in some maner wise
Might it warne hym everydele,
Or by hym-silf perceyven wele.
For sith he myghte not come and gone
As he was whilom wont to done,
He myght it sone wite and see;
1 Legal term: "in the manner." 2 Pierced. 8 Suffereth for In spite of you. Watch.
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