They toke theyr ynnes in good intente,
And to theyr fupper foone they wente.

Whan he was fet, and served at meate,
Than he fayd he had forgete

To take leve of that lady fre,
The kynges doughter of Hungre.
Anone the fquyer made him ayre,
And by hym felfe forth can he fare,
Without ftrength of his meynè,

Unto the castell than went he.

Whan he came to the posterne-gate,

Anone he entred in thereat,

And his drawen fwerd in his hande,

There was no more with him wolde ftande:

But it ftode with hym full harde

500

As ye fhall here nowe of the stewarde.

510

He wende in the worlde none had be

That had knowen of his pryvitè,

Alas! it was not as he wende,

For all his counfayle the stewarde [kende].

He had bewrayed him to the kyng

Of all his love and his woyng;

And yet he laye her chambre by,

Armed with a great company,

And befet it one eche fyde,

For treafon walketh wonder wyde.

520

The fquyer thought on no mystruste

He wende no man in the worlde had wyfte,

But yf he had knowen, ne by faynt John

He had not come theder by his owne;

Or yf that lady had knowen his wyll,
That he should have come her chamber tyll,

She would have taken hym golde and fe,
Strength of men and royaltè;

But there ne wyft no man nor grome
Where that fquyer was become;
But forth he went hymfelfe alone
Amonge his fervauntes everychone.
Whan that he came her chambre to,
Anone, he fayde, Your dore undo!
Undo, he fayde, nowe, fayre lady!
I am befet with many a spy.
Lady, as whyte as whales bone,
There are thyrty agaynft me one.
Undo thy dore! my worthy wyfe,
I am befette with many a knyfe.
Undo your dore! my lady fwete,
I am befet with enemyes great;

530

540

And, lady, but ye wyll aryfe,

I fhall be dead with myne enemyes.

Undo thy dore! my frely floure,

That lady with those wordes awoke,
A mantell of golde to her she toke;

She fayde, Go away, thou wicked wyght,
Thou shalt not come here this nyght;

For i wyll not my dore undo

For no man that cometh therto.

There is but one in Christentè

That ever made that forwarde with me;
There is but one that ever bare lyfe,
That ever i hight to be his wyfe;
He fhall me wedde, by Mary bryght,
Whan he is proved a venterous knyght;
For we have loved this seven yere,

550

560

There was never love to me fo dere.

There lyeth on me both kyng and knyght,

Dukes, erles, of muche might.

Wende forth, fquyer, on your waye,

For here ye gette none other praye;
For i ne wote what ye fhould be,

That thus befecheth love of me.

I am your owne fquyr, he fayde,

For me, lady, be not dysmayde.
Come i am full pryvely

To take my leave of you, lady.

Welcome, the fayd, my love fo dere,

Myne owne dere heart, and my fquyer;
I fhall you geve kysses thre,

A thousande pounde unto your fe,
And kepe i fhall my maydenhede ryght
Tyll ye be proved a venturous knyght.
For yf ye fhould me wede anone,
My father wolde make flee you foone.
I am the kynges doughter of Hungrè,
And
ye alone that have loved me,
And though you love me never fo fore,

For me ye fhall never be lore.

Go forth, and aske me at my kynne,

And loke what graunt you may wynne;

Yf that ye gette graunte, in faye,
Myfelfe therto fhall not fay nay;
And yf ye may not do so,
Otherwyfe ye fhall come to.

Ye are bothe hardy, ftronge, and wight,

570

580

Go forth, and be a venterous knight.

590

I pray to god, and our lady,

To fend you the whele of Victory,
That my father fo leve he be
That wyll profer me to thee.
I wote well it is lyghtly fayd,
Go forth, and be nothyng afrayde.
A man of worshyp may not do fo,
He must have what neds him unto;
He must have gold, he must have fe,
Strength of men and royaltè.
Golde and fylver spare ye nought,
Tyll to manhode ye be brought;

To what batayll foever ye go,

Ye shall have an hundreth pounde or two;
And yet to me, fyr, ye may faye,

That i woulde fayne have you awaye,

That profered you golde and fe,

Out of myne eye-syght for to be.
Nevertheleffe it is not fo,

It is for the worshyp of us two,

Though you be come of fymple kynne,
Thus my love, fyr, may ye wynne,
Yf ye have grace of victory,

As ever had fyr Lybyus, or fyr Guy,

600

610