Were it by destiny, or áventure, Were it by influence, or by natúre, Or constellation, that in such estate The heaven stood at that time fortunate As for to put a bill of Venus’ works (For allë thing hath time, as say these clerks), To any woman for to get her love, I cannot say; but greatë God above, That knoweth that none act is causëless, He deem of all, for I will hold my peace. But sooth is this, how that this freshë May Hath taken such impressión that day Of pity on this sickë Damian, That from her heartë she not drivë can The remembráncë for to do him ease. “Certain,” thought she, “whom that this thing displease I reckë not, for here I him assure, To love him best of any creature, Though he no morë haddë than his shirt.” Lo, pity runneth soon in gentle heart. Here may ye see, how excellent franchise In women is when they them narrow advise. Some tyrant is—as there be many a one— That hath a heart as hard as any stone, Which would have let him sterven in the place Well rather than have granted him her grace; And then rejoicen in her cruel pride. And reckon not to be a homicide. This gentle May, full filled of pitý, Right of her hand a letter maked she, In which she granted him her very grace; There lacked nought, but only day and place, Where that she might unto his lust suffice: For it shall be right as he will devise. And when she saw her time upon a day To visit this Damían went this May, And subtilly this letter down she thrust Under his pillow, read it if him lust. She took him by the hand, and hard him twist’ So secretly, that no wight of it wist, And bade him be all whole; and forth she went To January, when he for her sent. Up rosë Damian the nextë morrow, All passed was his sickness and his sorrow. He combed him, he proined him and picked, He did all that unto his lady liked; And eke to January he went as low As ever did a doggë for the bow. He is so pleasant unto every man (For craft is all, whoso that do it can), Every wight is fain to speak him good; And fully in his lady’s grace he stood. Thus leave I Damian about his need, And in my talë forth I will proceed.
Some clerkës holdë that felicitý Stands in delight; and therefore certain he, This noble January, with all his might In honest wise as longeth to a