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Unto her chambre she is gone,
And fell in fownyng fone anone,
With much forow and fighing fore,
Yet seven year she kept hym thore.
But leve we of that lady here,
And speake we more of that fquyer,
That in pryfon so was take,
For the kinges doughters fake.
The kyng hymfelfe, upon a daye,
Full pryvely he toke the waye,
Unto the pryfon sone he came,
The fquyer fone out he name,
And anone he made hym swere
His counfayl he should never diskere.
The fquyer there helde up his hande,
His byddyng never he should withstande. 870
The kyng him graunted ther to go
Upon his jorney to and fro,
And brefely to passe the sea,
That no man weste but he and he,
And whan he had his jurnay done,
That he wolde come full soone:
“ And in my chambre for to be,
The whyles that i do ordayne for thee:
Than shalt thou wedde my doughter dere,
And have my landes both farre and nere.”
The squyer was full mery tho,
And thanked the kynge, and forth gan go.
The kyng bym gave both lande and fe.
Anone the squyer passed the se.
In Tuskayne and in Lumbardy,
There he dyd great chyvalry,
In Portyngale, nor yet in Spayne,
There myght no man stand hym agayne ;
And where that ever that knyght gan fare,
The worshyp with hym away he bare :
And thus he travayled seven yere,
In many a land both farre and nere;
Tyll on a day he thought hym tho
Unto the sepulture for to go;
And there he made his offeryng soone,
Right as the kinges doughter bad him don.
Than he thought hym on a day
That the kynge to hym dyd saye.
He toke his leve in Lumbardy,
And home he came to Hungry.
Unto the kynge soone he rade,
As he before his covenaunce made,
And to the kyng he tolde full soone
Of batayles bolde that he had done,
And so he did the chyvalry
That he had sene in Lumbardy.
To the kynge it was good tydande,
Anone he toke him by the hande,
And he made him full royall chere,
And fayd, Welcome, my fonne so dere.
Let none wete of my méyne
That out of prison thou shuldest be,
But in thy chamber holde the styll,
And i shall wete my doughters wyll.
The kynge wente forth hymfelfe alone,
For to here his doughters mone,
Right under the chambre-window,
There he might her counseyle knowe.
Had the wyst, that lady fre,
That her father there had be,
He shulde not, withouten fayle,
Have knowen fo muche of her counfayle,
Nor nothing she knew that he was there
Whan the began to carke and care.
Unto that body she sayd tho,
Alas, that we should parte in two!
Twyse or thryfe she kyssed that body,
And fell in lownynge by and by.
Alas! than fayd that lady dere,
I have the kept this seven yere,
And now ye be in powder small,
I may no lenger holde you withall.
My love, to the earth i lhall the brynge,
And preeftes for you to reade and synge.
Yf any man aske me what i have here,
I wyll say it is my treasure.
Yf any man alke why i do so,
For no theves shall come therto :
And, fquyer, for the love of the,
Fy on this worldes vanytè !
Farewell golde, pure and fyne ;
Farewell velvet, and satyne;
Farewell castelles, and maners allo ;
Farewell huntynge, and hawkynge to;
Farewell revell, myrthe, and play ;
Farewell pleasure, and garmentes gay;
Farewell perle, and precyous stone;
Farewell my juielles everychone;
Farewell inantell, and scarlet reed;
Farewell crowne unto my heed ;
Farewell hawkes, and farewell hounde ;
Farewell markes, and many a pounde ;
Farewell huntynge at the hare;
Farewell harte and hynde for evermare.
Nowe wyll i take the mantell and the rynge,
And become an ancresse in my lyvynge:
And yet i am a mayden for thee,
And for all the men in Chrystentè.
To Chryst i shall my prayers make,
Squyer, onely for thy fake;
And i shall neve: no masse heare,
But ye shall have parte in feare:
And every daye whyles i lyve,
Ye shall have your masses fyve,
And i thall offre pence thre,
In tokenynge of the trynytè.
And whan this lady had this fayde,
In sownyng she fel at a brayde.
The whyle she made this great mornynge,
Under the wall stode har father the kynge.
Doughter, he fayde, you must not do so,
For all those vowes thou must forgo.
“ Alas, father, and weleawaye !
Nowe have ye harde what i dyde faye.”