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All the lykyng of hys longe travayle
Was away wythowten fayle,

In forowe was lie stadde. .
All the lordys that were hym by,
Recowmforde bym full kyndely,

And bad hym not be adradd Tyll we the fothe have enqueryd, Bothe of lewde and of lernydd ;

Thes wordys yyt made hym gladd.


Then came Egravayne, wythowten lees,
Faste prekynge into the prees,

The fothe he wolde have tolde,
But Mylys owte wyth a swyrde kene,
And wolde Egravayne tenc,

But he a mantell can folde
Ofte fythys abów te hys arme.
And kepyd hym wele fro any harme,

That hardy was and bolde.
The emperowre bad put them in fondur,
And of yow fchall bye thys blundur

Whych häth the wronge in holde.


Syr Eğravayne feyde, Syr, now.y schall
Tell yow a full sekyr tale,

And ye wyll here hyt wele.. .

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Syr, when ye went unto the fee,
Ye lefte an hundurd men, and us thre,

Armed in yron and stele,
To kepe Florence tyll ye came agayne;
And that made my brodur Sampson Rayne,

And wroght hath myn unhele.


Unnethe were ye on the see
When Mylys seyde, here standyth he,

That ye for evyr were gone.
He seyde he wolde be emperowre,
And wedde yowre lady whyte as flowre,

That worthy ys yn wone ;
He had an hundurd at hys assente,
And hyght them londys and ryche rente;

That made fyr Sampson None:
And broght hym home on a bere-tree,
And tolde Florence that hyt was ye,

Thon made (che full grete moone;


And when he wolde hur have wedde,
Faste away fro hym sche fledde,

And wolde have stolyn awaye.
Then Mylys made to arme twelve knyghtes,
To kepe the place day and nyghtys,

And wach abowte hur lay ;


And certys y was to them sworne,
And ellys had my lyfe be lorne,

The certen fothe to saye.
I went to the pope and tolde hym fa
And he assoyled me a pena et culpa

Wythowtyn any delay.


Then he gart ame an hundurd clerkys,
Doghty men and wyse of werkys,

To the palés he can them brynge,
They bonde the false bothe hond and fote,
And in pryson caste them, god hyt wote,

And ther yn can them thrynge;
And Florence let owt Mylys nowe,
For to wende agenste yow,

Be Jhesu, hevyn kynge;
Thys wyll wytnes pope Symoud,
He wolde not for a thousand pownde,

Telle yow a lesynge ;
Ye schall come home, as y yow say,
Be to-morne that hyt be day,

And thys was at the none.
The emperowre in thys whylys,
Drewe a swyrde to fyr Mylys,

But lordys helde hym soone ;


He badd, False traytur, flee!
That thou nevyr thy brodur see,

For wykkydly hast thou done.
Evyn to Rome ageyne he rode,
Haftely wythowten bode,

Or evyr he wolde awey gone,


To feyre Florence can he saye,
A lesyng that hur wele can paye,

My lorde byddyth that ye schall
Come agayne hym in the mornynge.
Blythe therof was that maydyn yynge,

And trowed hys false tale.
Sche sente to the pope over nyght,
And bad he schulde be tymely dyght, :

Wyth mony a cardynale;
And sche ordeygned hur meyné als,
And went wyth hym that was false,

And pafsyd bothe downe and dale.
When they came wythowte the cytè
Mylys seyde, My lady free,

We two muste ryde faste,
And let the pope and hys meynè
Come behynde the and me,

For thus then ys my caste;


That thou may speke wyth my lorde thy fylle,
And wyth Garcy wykkyd of wylle,

And be nothynge agaste.
For when the emperowre the pope can fee, 1410
Mekyll fpeche wyll ther bee,

And that full longe wyll laste.

Mylys, fche seyde, god yylde hyt the,
That y foone my lorde may fee,

Thou makyst me full fayne.
The ryght wey lay evyn efte,
And he lad hur fowthe-weste,

And thus he made hys trayne, come
Tyll they came downe in a depe gylle;
The lady seyde, We ryde ylle, . 1420

Thes gates they are ungayne; .
I rede we lyght unto the grownde,
And byde owre fadur the pope a stownde.

He seyde, Nay, be goddys payne, 'Thou schalt hym see nevyr mare. Tho the lady fyghed wondur fare,

And felle of on hur palfray.

He bete hur wyth hys nakyd fwyrde,
And fche caste up many a rewfull rerde,

And seyde ofte Wele a faye !


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