Wherethrough that ye may honoure wynn,
And be the greatest of your kynne.
I pray to god and our lady,
Sende you the whele of vyctory,
That my father fo fayne may be,
That he wyll wede me unto thee,
And make the king of this countrè,
To have and holde in honestè,
Wyth welth and wynne to were the crowne,
And to be lorde of toure and towne ;
That we might our dayes endure
In parfyte love that is so pure;
And if we may not fo come to,
Otherwyfe then must we do;
And therfore, fquyer, wende thy way,
And hye the fast on thy journay,
And take thy leve of kinge and quene,
And fo to all the courte bydene.
Ye fhall not want at your goyng
Golde, nor fylver, nor other thyng.
This feven yere i fhall you abyde,
Betyde of you what fo betyde;
Tyll seven yere be comen and gone
I shall be mayde all alone.
The fquyer kneled on his kne,
And thanked that lady fayre and fre;
And thryes he kyfsed that lady tho,
And toke his leve, and forth gan go.
The kinges fteward stode full nye,
In a chambre faft them bye,
And hearde theyr wordes wonder wele,
And all the woyng every dele.
He made a vowe to heaven kynge,
For to bewraye that fwete thynge,
And that fquyer taken shoulde be,
And hanged hye on a tree;
And that falfe ftewarde full of yre,
Them to betraye was his defyre;
He bethought hym nedely,
Every daye by and by,
How he myght venged be
On that lady fayre and fre,
For he her loved pryvely,
And therfore dyd her great envye.
Alas! it tourned to wroth her heyle
That ever he wyfte of theyr counfayle.
But leve we of the stewarde here,
And fpeke we more of that fquyer,
Howe he to his chambre wente,
Whan he past from that lady gente.
There he araied him in scarlet reed,
And fet his chaplet upon his head,
A belte about his fydes two,
With brode barres to and fro;
A horne about his necke he cafte;
And forth he went, at the last,
To do hys office in the hall,
Among the lordes both great and small.
He toke a white yeard in his hande,
Before the kynge than gane he stande,
And fone he fat hym on his knee,
And ferved the kynge ryght royally,
With deynty meates that were dere,
With partryche, pecoke, and plovere,
With byrdes in bread ybake,
The tele, the ducke and the drake,
The cocke, the curlewe, and the crane,
With fefauntes fayre, theyr were no wane,
Both ftorkes and fnytes ther were also,
And venyfon freshe of bucke and do,
And other deyntés many one,
For to fet afore the kynge anone:
And when the fquyer had done fo,
He ferved the hall to and fro,
Eche man hym loved in honeftè,
Hye and lowe in theyr degrè,
So dyd the kyng full fodenly,
And he wyft not wherfore nor why.
The kynge behelde the fquyer wele,
And all his rayment every dele,
He thought he was the femlyeft man
That ever in the worlde he fawe or than.
Thus fate the kyng and eate ryght nought,
But on his fquyer was all his thought.
Anone the stewarde toke good hede,
And to the kyng full foone he yede,
And foone he tolde unto the kynge
All theyr wordes and theyr woynge;
And how the hyght hym lande and fe,
Golde and fylver great plentye,
And how he should his leve take,
And become a knight for her fake:
"And thus they talked both in fere,
And i drewe me nere and nere,
Had i not come, in verayly,
The fquyer had layne her by,
But whan he was ware of me,
Full faft away can he fle;
That [this] is fothe here my hand
To fight with him while i may stand."
The kyng fayd to the fteward tho,
may not beleve it should be fo;
Hath he be fo bonayre and benynge,
And ferved me fyth i was yynge,
And redy with me in every nede,
Bothe true of word, and eke of dede,
I may not beleve, be nyght nor daye,
My doughter dere he wyll betraye,
Nor to come her chambre nye,
That fode to longe with no foly;
Though fhe would to hym confente,
That lovely lady fayre and gente,
I trufte hym fo well, withouten drede,
That he would never do that dede;
But yf he myght that lady wynne,
In wedlocke to welde withouten fynne,
And yf fhe asfent hym tyll,
The fquyer is worthy to have none yll.
For i have fene that many a page
Have become men by mariage;
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