This Phoebus, that was flower of bach’lery, As well in freedom 4947 as in chivalry, For his disport, in sign eke of victóry Of Python, so as telleth us the story, Was wont to bearen in his hand a bow. Now had this Phoebus in his house a crow, Which in a cage he foster’d many a day, And taught it speaken, as men teach a jay. White was this crow, as is a snow-white swan, And counterfeit the speech of every man He couldë, when he shouldë tell a tale. Therewith in all this world no nightingale Ne couldë by an hundred thousand deal 4948 Singë so wondrous merrily and well. Now had this Phoebus in his house a wife, Which that he loved morë than his life. And night and day did ever his diligence Her for to please, and do her reverence: Save only, if that I the sooth shall sayn, Jealous he was, and would have kept her fain. For him were loth y-japed