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Syrs, he feyde, wythowt fayle,
Yf ye wyl do be my counsayle,

Grete worschyp schulde ye wynne.
Knowe ye the erle of Tollous ?
Moche harme he hath done us, : -

Hys boste y rede we blynne ; Yf ye wyll do aftur my redd, Thys day he schall be dedd,

So god me fave fro synne.

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That oon knyght Kamiters, that odur Kaym
Falser men myght no man rayme,

Certys then were thoo;
Syr Trylabas was the thrydde,
Hyt was no mystur them to bydd

Aftur the erle to goo.
At a brygge they hym mett,
Wyth harde strokes they hym besett,

As men that were hys foo;
The erle was a man of mayn,
Faste he faght them agayne,

And soone he New twoo.

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The thrydd fledd, and blewe owt fafte,
The erle ovyrtoke hym at the laste,

Hys hedd he clofe in three; .


The cuntrey gedyrd abowte hym fafte,
And aftur hym yorne they chaste,

An hundurd there men myght see.
The erle of them was agafte,
At the laste fro them he paste,

Fayne he was to flee;
From them he went into a waste,
To reste hym there he toke hys caste,

A wery man was hee.
All the nyght in that foreste
The gentyll erle toke hys reste,

He had no nodur woon;
When hyt dawed he rose up soone,
And thankyd god that syttyth in trone,

That he had scapyd hys foon.
That day he travaylyd many a myle,
And ofte he was in grete parylle,

Be the way os he can gone,
Tyll he come to [a] fayre castell,
There hym was levyst to dwelle,

Was made of lyme and stone.


Of hys comyng, hys men were gladd,
Be ye mery, my men, he badd,

For nothyng ye spare;


The emperour, wythowte lees,
Y trowe wyll let us be in pees,

And warre on us no mare.
Thus dwellyd the erle in that place,
Wyth game myrthe and grete folafe,

Ryght os hym levyft ware.
Let we now the erle alloon,
And speke we of dame Beulyboon,

How sche was caste in care.


The emperour lovyd hys wyfe,
Al fo moche os hys own lyfe,

And more yf he myght;
He chose two knyghtys that were hym dere,
Whedur that he were ferre or nere,

To kepe hur day and nyght.
That oon hys love on hur caste,
So dud the todur at the laste,

Sche was feyre and bryght; Nothyr of othyr wyste ryght noght, So derne love on them wroght,

To dethe they were nere dyght.


So hyt befelle upon a day
That oon can to that othyr fay,
Syr, al fo mufte y thee,

Methynkyth thou fadyste all away,
Os man that ys clongyn in clay,

So pale waxeth thy blee.
Then seyde that other, Y make a vowe,
Ryght fo methynkyth fareste thou,

Why fo evyr hyt bee;
Telle me thy cause, why hyt ys,.
And y fchall telle the myn, y wys,

My trouthe y plyght to thee.


Y graunte, he seyde, wythowt fayle,
But loke hyt be trewe counfayle.

Therto hys 'trowthe he plyght.
He seyde, My lady the emperes,
For love of hur y am in grete dystresse,

To dethe hyt wyll me dyght.
Then feyde that othyr, Certenly,
Wythowte drede, fo fare y

For that lady bryght;
Syn owre love ys on hur sett,
How myght owre bale beste be bett?

Canste thou rede on ryght ?


Then seyde that othyr, be seynt John,
Bettur counsayle can y noon

Methynkyth then ys thys;


Y rede that oon of us twoo
Prevely to hur goo,

And pray hur of hur blys ;
Y myselfe wyll go hur tylle,
Yn case y may gete hur wylle,

Of myrthe schalt thou not mys;
Thou schalt take us wyth the dede,
Leste thou us wrye sche wyll drede,

And graunte thy wylle, y wys,


Thus they were ai oon assent,
Thys false thefe forthe wente,

To wytt the ladyes wylle ;
Yn chaumbyr he founde hyr so free,
He sett hym downe on hys knee,

Hys purpose to fulfylle.
Than spake that lady free,
Syr, y see now well be the,

Thou haste not all thy wylle;
On thy sekenes now y see,
Telle me now thy prevytė,

Why thou mornyft fo ftylle.

Lady, he seyde, that durste y noght.
For all the gode that evyr was wroght,

Be grete god invyłybylle ;


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