Counterfeit the sophimës of his art; Nor worthy were t’ unbuckle his galoche, Where doubleness of feigning should approach, Nor could so thank a wight, as he did me. His manner was a heaven for to see To any woman, were she ne’er so wise; So painted he and kempt, at point devise, As well his wordës as his countenánce. And I so lov’d him for his obeisánce, And for the truth I deemed in his heart, That, if so were that any thing him smart, All were it ne’er so lite, and I it wist, Methought I felt death at my heartë twist. And shortly, so farforth this thing is went, That my will was his willë’s instrumént; That is to say, my will obey’d his will In allë thing, as far as reason fill, Keeping the boundës of my worship ever; And never had I thing so lefe, or lever, As him, God wot, nor never shall no mo’.
“This lasted longer than a year or two, That I supposed of him naught but good. But finally, thus at the last it stood, That fortune wouldë that he mustë twin Out of that placë which that I was in. Whe’er me was woe, it is no questión; I cannot make of it descriptión. For one thing dare I tellë boldëly, I know what is the pain of death thereby; Such harm I felt, for he might not byleve. So on a day of me he took his leave, So sorrowful eke, that I ween’d verily, That he had felt as muchë harm as I, When that I heard him speak, and saw his hue. But natheless, I thought he was so true, And eke that he repairë should again Within a little whilë, sooth to sayn, And reason would eke that he mustë go For his honoúr, as often happ’neth so, That I made virtue of necessitý, And took it well, since that it mustë be. As I best might, I hid from him my sorrow, And took him by the hand, Saint John to borrow, And said him thus; ‘Lo, I am yourës all; Be such as I have been to you, and shall.’ What he answér’d, it needs not to rehearse; Who can say bet than he, who can do worse? When he had all well said, then had he done. Therefore behoveth him a full long spoon, That shall eat with a fiend; thus heard I say. So at the last he mustë forth his way, And forth he flew, till he came where him lest. When it came him to purpose for to rest, I trow that he had thilkë text in mind, That allë thing repairing to his kind Gladdeth himself; thus say