But after that in play thus saidë she. “Aurelius,” quoth she, “by high God above, Yet will I grantë you to be your love (Since I you see so piteously complain); Lookë, what day that endëlong Bretágne Ye remove all the rockës, stone by stone, That they not lettë ship nor boat to gon, I say, when ye have made this coast so clean Of rockës, that there is no stonë seen, Then will I love you best of any man; Have here my troth, in all that ever I can; For well I wot that it shall ne’er betide. Let such follý out of your heartë glide. What dainty should a man have in his life For to go love another mannë’s wife, That hath her body when that ever him liketh?” Aurelius full often sorë siketh; “Is there none other grace in you?” quoth he, “No, by that Lord,” quoth she, “that maked me.” Woe was Aurelius when that he this heard, And with a sorrowful heart he thus answér’d. “Madame,” quoth he, “this were an impossíble. Then must I die of sudden death horríble.” And with that word he turned him anon.
Then came her other friends many a one, And in the alleys roamed up and down, And nothing wist of this conclusión, But suddenly began to revel new, Till that the brightë sun had lost his hue, For th’ horizón had reft the sun his light (This is as much to say as it was night); And home they go in mirth and in solace; Save only wretch’d Aurelius, alas! He to his house is gone with sorrowful heart. He said, he may not from his death astart. Him seemed, that he felt his heartë cold. Up to the heav’n his handës gan he hold, And on his kneës bare he set him down. And in his raving said his orisoún. For very woe out of his wit he braid; He wist not what he spake, but thus he said; With piteous heart his plaint hath he begun Unto the gods, and first unto the Sun. He said; “Apollo God and governoúr Of every plantë, herbë, tree, and flow’r, That giv’st, after thy declinatión, To each of them his time and his