| In Flaundres whilom was a compaignye |
| Of yonge folk that haunteden folye, |
| 465 | As riot, hasard, stywes, and tavernes, |
| Where as with harpes, lutes, and gyternes, |
| They daunce and pleyen at dees bothe day and nyght, |
| And eten also and drynken over hir myght, |
| Thurgh which they doon the devel sacrifise |
| 470 | Withinne that develes temple in cursed wise |
| By superfluytee abhomynable. |
| Hir othes been so grete and so dampnable |
| That it is grisly for to heere hem swere. |
| Oure blissed Lordes body they totere -- |
| 475 | Hem thoughte that Jewes rente hym noght ynough -- |
| And ech of hem at otheres synne lough. |
| And right anon thanne comen tombesteres |
| Fetys and smale, and yonge frutesteres, |
| Syngeres with harpes, baudes, wafereres, |
| 480 | Whiche been the verray develes officeres |
| To kyndle and blowe the fyr of lecherye, |
| That is annexed unto glotonye. |
| The hooly writ take I to my witnesse |
| That luxurie is in wyn and dronkenesse. |
| 485 | Lo, how that dronken Looth, unkyndely, |
| Lay by his doghtres two, unwityngly; |
| So dronke he was, he nyste what he wroghte. |
| Herodes, whoso wel the stories soghte, |
| Whan he of wyn was repleet at his feeste, |
| 490 | Right at his owene table he yaf his heeste |
| To sleen the Baptist John, ful giltelees. |
| Senec seith a good word doutelees; |
| He seith he kan no difference fynde |
| Bitwix a man that is out of his mynde |
| 495 | And a man which that is dronkelewe, |
| But that woodnesse, yfallen in a shrewe, |
| Persevereth lenger than doth dronkenesse. |
| O glotonye, ful of cursednesse! |
| O cause first of oure confusioun! |
| 500 | O original of oure dampnacioun, |
| Til Crist hadde boght us with his blood agayn! |
| Lo, how deere, shortly for to sayn, |
| Aboght was thilke cursed vileynye! |
| Corrupt was al this world for glotonye. |
| 505 | Adam oure fader, and his wyf also, |
| Fro Paradys to labour and to wo |
| Were dryven for that vice, it is no drede. |
| For whil that Adam fasted, as I rede, |
| He was in Paradys; and whan that he |
| 510 | Eet of the fruyt deffended on the tree, |
| Anon he was out cast to wo and peyne. |
| O glotonye, on thee wel oghte us pleyne! |
| O, wiste a man how manye maladyes |
| Folwen of excesse and of glotonyes, |
| 515 | He wolde been the moore mesurable |
| Of his diete, sittynge at his table. |
| Allas, the shorte throte, the tendre mouth, |
| Maketh that est and west and north and south, |
| In erthe, in eir, in water, men to swynke |
| 520 | To gete a glotoun deyntee mete and drynke! |
| Of this matiere, O Paul, wel kanstow trete: |
| "Mete unto wombe, and wombe eek unto mete, |
| Shal God destroyen bothe," as Paulus seith. |
| Allas, a foul thyng is it, by my feith, |
| 525 | To seye this word, and fouler is the dede, |
| Whan man so drynketh of the white and rede |
| That of his throte he maketh his pryvee |
| Thurgh thilke cursed superfluitee. |
| The apostel wepyng seith ful pitously, |
| 530 | "Ther walken manye of whiche yow toold have I -- |
| I seye it now wepyng, with pitous voys -- |
| They been enemys of Cristes croys, |
| Of whiche the ende is deeth; wombe is hir god!" |
| O wombe! O bely! O stynkyng cod, |
| 535 | Fulfilled of dong and of corrupcioun! |
| At either ende of thee foul is the soun. |
| How greet labour and cost is thee to fynde! |
| Thise cookes, how they stampe, and streyne, and grynde, |
| And turnen substaunce into accident |
| 540 | To fulfille al thy likerous talent! |
| Out of the harde bones knokke they |
| The mary, for they caste noght awey |
| That may go thurgh the golet softe and swoote. |
| Of spicerie of leef, and bark, and roote |
| 545 | Shal been his sauce ymaked by delit, |
| To make hym yet a newer appetit. |
| But, certes, he that haunteth swiche delices |
| Is deed, whil that he lyveth in tho vices. |
| A lecherous thyng is wyn, and dronkenesse |
| 550 | Is ful of stryvyng and of wrecchednesse. |
| O dronke man, disfigured is thy face, |
| Sour is thy breeth, foul artow to embrace, |
| And thurgh thy dronke nose semeth the soun |
| As though thou seydest ay "Sampsoun, Sampsoun!" |
| 555 | And yet, God woot, Sampsoun drank nevere no wyn. |
| Thou fallest as it were a styked swyn; |
| Thy tonge is lost, and al thyn honeste cure, |
| For dronkenesse is verray sepulture |
| Of mannes wit and his discrecioun. |
| 560 | In whom that drynke hath dominacioun |
| He kan no conseil kepe; it is no drede. |
| Now kepe yow fro the white and fro the rede, |
| And namely fro the white wyn of Lepe |
| That is to selle in Fysshstrete or in Chepe. |
| 565 | This wyn of Spaigne crepeth subtilly |
| In othere wynes, growynge faste by, |
| Of which ther ryseth swich fumositee |
| That whan a man hath dronken draughtes thre, |
| And weneth that he be at hoom in Chepe, |
| 570 | He is in Spaigne, right at the toune of Lepe -- |
| Nat at the Rochele, ne at Burdeux toun -- |
| And thanne wol he seye "Sampsoun, Sampsoun!" |
| But herkneth, lordynges, o word, I yow preye, |
| That alle the sovereyn actes, dar I seye, |
| 575 | Of victories in the Olde Testament, |
| Thurgh verray God, that is omnipotent, |
| Were doon in abstinence and in preyere. |
| Looketh the Bible, and ther ye may it leere. |
| Looke, Attilla, the grete conquerour, |
| 580 | Deyde in his sleep, with shame and dishonour, |
| Bledynge ay at his nose in dronkenesse. |
| A capitayn sholde lyve in sobrenesse. |
| And over al this, avyseth yow right wel |
| What was comaunded unto Lamuel -- |
| 585 | Nat Samuel, but Lamuel, seye I; |
| Redeth the Bible, and fynde it expresly |
| Of wyn-yevyng to hem that han justise. |
| Namoore of this, for it may wel suffise. |
| And now that I have spoken of glotonye, |
| 590 | Now wol I yow deffenden hasardrye. |
| Hasard is verray mooder of lesynges, |
| And of deceite, and cursed forswerynges, |
| Blaspheme of Crist, manslaughtre, and wast also |
| Of catel and of tyme; and forthermo, |
| 595 | It is repreeve and contrarie of honour |
| For to ben holde a commune hasardour. |
| And ever the hyer he is of estaat, |
| The moore is he yholden desolaat. |
| If that a prynce useth hasardrye, |
| 600 | In alle governaunce and policye |
| He is, as by commune opinioun, |
| Yholde the lasse in reputacioun. |
| Stilboun, that was a wys embassadour, |
| Was sent to Corynthe in ful greet honour |
| 605 | Fro Lacidomye to make hire alliaunce. |
| And whan he cam, hym happede, par chaunce, |
| That alle the gretteste that were of that lond, |
| Pleyynge atte hasard he hem fond. |
| For which, as soone as it myghte be, |
| 610 | He stal hym hoom agayn to his contree, |
| And seyde, "Ther wol I nat lese my name, |
| Ne I wol nat take on me so greet defame, |
| Yow for to allie unto none hasardours. |
| Sendeth othere wise embassadours; |
| 615 | For, by my trouthe, me were levere dye |
| Than I yow sholde to hasardours allye. |
| For ye, that been so glorious in honours, |
| Shul nat allyen yow with hasardours |
| As by my wyl, ne as by my tretee." |
| 620 | This wise philosophre, thus seyde hee. |
| Looke eek that to the kyng Demetrius |
| The kyng of Parthes, as the book seith us, |
| Sente him a paire of dees of gold in scorn, |
| For he hadde used hasard ther-biforn; |
| 625 | For which he heeld his glorie or his renoun |
| At no value or reputacioun. |
| Lordes may fynden oother maner pley |
| Honest ynough to dryve the day awey. |
| Now wol I speke of othes false and grete |
| 630 | A word or two, as olde bookes trete. |
| Gret sweryng is a thyng abhominable, |
| And fals sweryng is yet moore reprevable. |
| The heighe God forbad sweryng at al, |
| Witnesse on Mathew; but in special |
| 635 | Of sweryng seith the hooly Jeremye, |
| "Thou shalt swere sooth thyne othes, and nat lye, |
| And swere in doom and eek in rightwisnesse"; |
| But ydel sweryng is a cursednesse. |
| Bihoold and se that in the firste table |
| 640 | Of heighe Goddes heestes honurable, |
| Hou that the seconde heeste of hym is this: |
| "Take nat my name in ydel or amys." |
| Lo, rather he forbedeth swich sweryng |
| Than homycide or many a cursed thyng; |
| 645 | I seye that, as by ordre, thus it stondeth; |
| This knoweth, that his heestes understondeth, |
| How that the seconde heeste of God is that. |
| And forther over, I wol thee telle al plat |
| That vengeance shal nat parten from his hous |
| 650 | That of his othes is to outrageous. |
| "By Goddes precious herte," and "By his nayles," |
| And "By the blood of Crist that is in Hayles, |
| Sevene is my chaunce, and thyn is cynk and treye!" |
| "By Goddes armes, if thou falsly pleye, |
| 655 | This daggere shal thurghout thyn herte go!" -- |
| This fruyt cometh of the bicched bones two, |
| Forsweryng, ire, falsnesse, homycide. |
| Now, for the love of Crist, that for us dyde, |
| Lete youre othes, bothe grete and smale. |
| 660 | But, sires, now wol I telle forth my tale. |
| Thise riotoures thre of whiche I telle, |
| Longe erst er prime rong of any belle, |
| Were set hem in a taverne to drynke, |
| And as they sat, they herde a belle clynke |
| 665 | Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave. |
| That oon of hem gan callen to his knave: |
| "Go bet," quod he, "and axe redily |
| What cors is this that passeth heer forby; |
| And looke that thou reporte his name weel." |
| 670 | "Sire," quod this boy, "it nedeth never-a-deel; |
| It was me toold er ye cam heer two houres. |
| He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres, |
| And sodeynly he was yslayn to-nyght, |
| Fordronke, as he sat on his bench upright. |
| 675 | Ther cam a privee theef men clepeth Deeth, |
| That in this contree al the peple sleeth, |
| And with his spere he smoot his herte atwo, |
| And wente his wey withouten wordes mo. |
| He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence. |
| 680 | And, maister, er ye come in his presence, |
| Me thynketh that it were necessarie |
| For to be war of swich an adversarie. |
| Beth redy for to meete hym everemoore; |
| Thus taughte me my dame; I sey namoore." |
| 685 | "By Seinte Marie!" seyde this taverner, |
| "The child seith sooth, for he hath slayn this yeer, |
| Henne over a mile, withinne a greet village, |
| Bothe man and womman, child, and hyne, and page; |
| I trowe his habitacioun be there. |
| 690 | To been avysed greet wysdom it were, |
| Er that he dide a man a dishonour." |
| "Ye, Goddes armes!" quod this riotour, |
| "Is it swich peril with hym for to meete? |
| I shal hym seke by wey and eek by strete, |
| 695 | I make avow to Goddes digne bones! |
| Herkneth, felawes, we thre been al ones; |
| Lat ech of us holde up his hand til oother, |
| And ech of us bicomen otheres brother, |
| And we wol sleen this false traytour Deeth. |
| 700 | He shal be slayn, he that so manye sleeth, |
| By Goddes dignitee, er it be nyght!" |
| Togidres han thise thre hir trouthes plight |
| To lyve and dyen ech of hem for oother, |
| As though he were his owene ybore brother. |
| 705 | And up they stirte, al dronken in this rage, |
| And forth they goon towardes that village |
| Of which the taverner hadde spoke biforn. |
| And many a grisly ooth thanne han they sworn, |
| And Cristes blessed body they torente -- |
| 710 | Deeth shal be deed, if that they may hym hente! |
| Whan they han goon nat fully half a mile, |
| Right as they wolde han troden over a stile, |
| An oold man and a povre with hem mette. |
| This olde man ful mekely hem grette, |
| 715 | And seyde thus, "Now, lordes, God yow see!" |
| The proudeste of thise riotoures three |
| Answerde agayn, "What, carl, with sory grace! |
| Why artow al forwrapped save thy face? |
| Why lyvestow so longe in so greet age?" |
| 720 | This olde man gan looke in his visage, |
| And seyde thus: "For I ne kan nat fynde |
| A man, though that I walked into Ynde, |
| Neither in citee ne in no village, |
| That wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age; |
| 725 | And therfore moot I han myn age stille, |
| As longe tyme as it is Goddes wille. |
| Ne Deeth, allas, ne wol nat han my lyf. |
| Thus walke I, lyk a restelees kaityf, |
| And on the ground, which is my moodres gate, |
| 730 | I knokke with my staf, bothe erly and late, |
| And seye `Leeve mooder, leet me in! |
| Lo how I vanysshe, flessh, and blood, and skyn! |
| Allas, whan shul my bones been at reste? |
| Mooder, with yow wolde I chaunge my cheste |
| 735 | That in my chambre longe tyme hath be, |
| Ye, for an heyre clowt to wrappe me!' |
| But yet to me she wol nat do that grace, |
| For which ful pale and welked is my face. |
| "But, sires, to yow it is no curteisye |
| 740 | To speken to an old man vileynye, |
| But he trespasse in word or elles in dede. |
| In Hooly Writ ye may yourself wel rede: |
| `Agayns an oold man, hoor upon his heed, |
| Ye sholde arise;' wherfore I yeve yow reed, |
| 745 | Ne dooth unto an oold man noon harm now, |
| Namoore than that ye wolde men did to yow |
| In age, if that ye so longe abyde. |
| And God be with yow, where ye go or ryde! |
| I moot go thider as I have to go." |
| 750 | "Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shalt nat so," |
| Seyde this oother hasardour anon; |
| "Thou partest nat so lightly, by Seint John! |
| Thou spak right now of thilke traytour Deeth. |
| That in this contree alle oure freendes sleeth. |
| 755 | Have heer my trouthe, as thou art his espye, |
| Telle where he is or thou shalt it abye, |
| By God and by the hooly sacrement! |
| For soothly thou art oon of his assent |
| To sleen us yonge folk, thou false theef!" |
| 760 | "Now, sires," quod he, "if that yow be so leef |
| To fynde Deeth, turne up this croked wey, |
| For in that grove I lafte hym, by my fey, |
| Under a tree, and there he wole abyde; |
| Noght for youre boost he wole him no thyng hyde. |
| 765 | Se ye that ook? Right there ye shal hym fynde. |
| God save yow, that boghte agayn mankynde, |
| And yow amende!" Thus seyde this olde man; |
| And everich of thise riotoures ran |
| Til he cam to that tree, and ther they founde |
| 770 | Of floryns fyne of gold ycoyned rounde |
| Wel ny an eighte busshels, as hem thoughte. |
| No lenger thanne after Deeth they soughte, |
| But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte, |
| For that the floryns been so faire and brighte, |
| 775 | That doun they sette hem by this precious hoord. |
| The worste of hem, he spak the firste word. |
| "Bretheren," quod he, "taak kep what that I seye; |
| My wit is greet, though that I bourde and pleye. |
| This tresor hath Fortune unto us yiven |
| 780 | In myrthe and joliftee oure lyf to lyven, |
| And lightly as it comth, so wol we spende. |
| Ey, Goddes precious dignitee! Who wende |
| To-day that we sholde han so fair a grace? |
| But myghte this gold be caried fro this place |
| 785 | Hoom to myn hous, or elles unto youres -- |
| For wel ye woot that al this gold is oures -- |
| Thanne were we in heigh felicitee. |
| But trewely, by daye it may nat bee. |
| Men wolde seyn that we were theves stronge, |
| 790 | And for oure owene tresor doon us honge. |
| This tresor moste ycaried be by nyghte |
| As wisely and as slyly as it myghte. |
| Wherfore I rede that cut among us alle |
| Be drawe, and lat se wher the cut wol falle; |
| 795 | And he that hath the cut with herte blithe |
| Shal renne to the town, and that ful swithe, |
| And brynge us breed and wyn ful prively. |
| And two of us shul kepen subtilly |
| This tresor wel; and if he wol nat tarie, |
| 800 | Whan it is nyght, we wol this tresor carie, |
| By oon assent, where as us thynketh best." |
| That oon of hem the cut broghte in his fest, |
| And bad hem drawe and looke where it wol falle; |
| And it fil on the yongeste of hem alle, |
| 805 | And forth toward the toun he wente anon. |
| And also soone as that he was gon, |
| That oon of hem spak thus unto that oother: |
| "Thow knowest wel thou art my sworen brother; |
| Thy profit wol I telle thee anon. |
| 810 | Thou woost wel that oure felawe is agon. |
| And heere is gold, and that ful greet plentee, |
| That shal departed been among us thre. |
| But nathelees, if I kan shape it so |
| That it departed were among us two, |
| 815 | Hadde I nat doon a freendes torn to thee?" |
| That oother answerde, "I noot hou that may be. |
| He woot that the gold is with us tweye; |
| What shal we doon? What shal we to hym seye?" |
| "Shal it be conseil?" seyde the firste shrewe, |
| 820 | "And I shal tellen in a wordes fewe |
| What we shal doon, and brynge it wel aboute." |
| "I graunte," quod that oother, "out of doute, |
| That, by my trouthe, I wol thee nat biwreye." |
| "Now," quod the firste, "thou woost wel we be tweye, |
| 825 | And two of us shul strenger be than oon. |
| Looke whan that he is set, that right anoon |
| Arys as though thou woldest with hym pleye, |
| And I shal ryve hym thurgh the sydes tweye |
| Whil that thou strogelest with hym as in game, |
| 830 | And with thy daggere looke thou do the same; |
| And thanne shal al this gold departed be, |
| My deere freend, bitwixen me and thee. |
| Thanne may we bothe oure lustes all fulfille, |
| And pleye at dees right at oure owene wille." |
| 835 | And thus acorded been thise shrewes tweye |
| To sleen the thridde, as ye han herd me seye. |
| This yongeste, which that wente to the toun, |
| Ful ofte in herte he rolleth up and doun |
| The beautee of thise floryns newe and brighte. |
| 840 | "O Lord!" quod he, "if so were that I myghte |
| Have al this tresor to myself allone, |
| Ther is no man that lyveth under the trone |
| Of God that sholde lyve so murye as I!" |
| And atte laste the feend, oure enemy, |
| 845 | Putte in his thought that he sholde poyson beye, |
| With which he myghte sleen his felawes tweye; |
| For-why the feend foond hym in swich lyvynge |
| That he hadde leve him to sorwe brynge. |
| For this was outrely his fulle entente, |
| 850 | To sleen hem bothe and nevere to repente. |
| And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie, |
| Into the toun, unto a pothecarie, |
| And preyde hym that he hym wolde selle |
| Som poyson, that he myghte his rattes quelle; |
| 855 | And eek ther was a polcat in his hawe, |
| That, as he seyde, his capouns hadde yslawe, |
| And fayn he wolde wreke hym, if he myghte, |
| On vermyn that destroyed hym by nyghte. |
| The pothecarie answerde, "And thou shalt have |
| 860 | A thyng that, also God my soule save, |
| In al this world ther is no creature |
| That eten or dronken hath of this confiture |
| Noght but the montance of a corn of whete, |
| That he ne shal his lif anon forlete; |
| 865 | Ye, sterve he shal, and that in lasse while |
| Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a mile, |
| This poysoun is so strong and violent." |
| This cursed man hath in his hond yhent |
| This poysoun in a box, and sith he ran |
| 870 | Into the nexte strete unto a man, |
| And borwed [of] hym large botelles thre, |
| And in the two his poyson poured he; |
| The thridde he kepte clene for his drynke. |
| For al the nyght he shoop hym for to swynke |
| 875 | In cariynge of the gold out of that place. |
| And whan this riotour, with sory grace, |
| Hadde filled with wyn his grete botels thre, |
| To his felawes agayn repaireth he. |
| What nedeth it to sermone of it moore? |
| 880 | For right as they hadde cast his deeth bifoore, |
| Right so they han hym slayn, and that anon. |
| And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon: |
| "Now lat us sitte and drynke, and make us merie, |
| And afterward we wol his body berie." |
| 885 | And with that word it happed hym, par cas, |
| To take the botel ther the poyson was, |
| And drank, and yaf his felawe drynke also, |
| For which anon they storven bothe two. |
| But certes, I suppose that Avycen |
| 890 | Wroot nevere in no canon, ne in no fen, |
| Mo wonder signes of empoisonyng |
| Than hadde thise wrecches two, er hir endyng. |
| Thus ended been thise homycides two, |
| And eek the false empoysonere also. |
| 895 | O cursed synne of alle cursednesse! |
| O traytours homycide, O wikkednesse! |
| O glotonye, luxurie, and hasardrye! |
| Thou blasphemour of Crist with vileynye |
| And othes grete, of usage and of pride! |
| 900 | Allas, mankynde, how may it bitide |
| That to thy creatour, which that the wroghte |
| And with his precious herte-blood thee boghte, |
| Thou art so fals and so unkynde, allas? |
| Now, goode men, God foryeve yow youre trespas, |
| 905 | And ware yow fro the synne of avarice! |
| Myn hooly pardoun may yow alle warice, |
| So that ye offre nobles or sterlynges, |
| Or elles silver broches, spoones, rynges. |
| Boweth youre heed under this hooly bulle! |
| 910 | Cometh up, ye wyves, offreth of youre wolle! |
| Youre names I entre heer in my rolle anon; |
| Into the blisse of hevene shul ye gon. |
| I yow assoille, by myn heigh power, |
| Yow that wol offre, as clene and eek as cleer |
| 915 | As ye were born. -- And lo, sires, thus I preche. |
| And Jhesu Crist, that is oure soules leche, |
| So graunte yow his pardoun to receyve, |
| For that is best; I wol yow nat deceyve. |
| But, sires, o word forgat I in my tale: |
| 920 | I have relikes and pardoun in my male, |
| As faire as any man in Engelond, |
| Whiche were me yeven by the popes hond. |
| If any of yow wole, of devocion, |
| Offren and han myn absolucion, |
| 925 | Com forth anon, and kneleth heere adoun, |
| And mekely receyveth my pardoun; |
| Or elles taketh pardoun as ye wende, |
| Al newe and fressh at every miles ende, |
| So that ye offren, alwey newe and newe, |
| 930 | Nobles or pens, whiche that be goode and trewe. |
| It is an honour to everich that is heer |
| That ye mowe have a suffisant pardoneer |
| T' assoille yow in contree as ye ryde, |
| For aventures whiche that may bityde. |
| 935 | Paraventure ther may fallen oon or two |
| Doun of his hors and breke his nekke atwo. |
| Looke which a seuretee is it to yow alle |
| That I am in youre felaweshipe yfalle, |
| That may assoille yow, bothe moore and lasse, |
| 940 | Whan that the soule shal fro the body passe. |
| I rede that oure Hoost heere shal bigynne, |
| For he is moost envoluped in synne. |
| Com forth, sire Hoost, and offre first anon, |
| And thou shalt kisse the relikes everychon, |
| 945 | Ye, for a grote! Unbokele anon thy purs." |
| "Nay, nay!" quod he, "thanne have I Cristes curs! |
| Lat be," quod he, "it shal nat be, so theech! |
| Thou woldest make me kisse thyn olde breech, |
| And swere it were a relyk of a seint, |
| 950 | Though it were with thy fundement depeint! |
| But, by the croys which that Seint Eleyne fond, |
| I wolde I hadde thy coillons in myn hond |
| In stide of relikes or of seintuarie. |
| Lat kutte hem of, I wol thee helpe hem carie; |
| 955 | They shul be shryned in an hogges toord!" |
| This Pardoner answerde nat a word; |
| So wrooth he was, no word ne wolde he seye. |
| "Now," quod oure Hoost, "I wol no lenger pleye |
| With thee, ne with noon oother angry man." |
| 960 | But right anon the worthy Knyght bigan, |
| Whan that he saugh that al the peple lough, |
| "Namoore of this, for it is right ynough! |
| Sire Pardoner, be glad and myrie of cheere; |
| And ye, sire Hoost, that been to me so deere, |
| 965 | I prey yow that ye kisse the Pardoner. |
| And Pardoner, I prey thee, drawe thee neer, |
| And, as we diden, lat us laughe and pleye." |
| Anon they kiste, and ryden forth hir weye. |