thousand pound he would not have, Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon. Aurelius with blissful heart anon Answered thus; “Fie on a thousand pound! This widë world, which that men say is round, I would it give, if I were lord of it. This bargain is full-driv’n, for we be knit; Ye shall be payed truly by my troth. But lookë, for no negligence or sloth, Ye tarry us here no longer than to-morrow.” “Nay,” quoth the clerk, “have here my faith to borrow.” To bed is gone Aurelius when him lest, And well-nigh all that night he had his rest, What for his labour, and his hope of bliss, His woeful heart of penance had a liss.
Upon the morrow, when that it was day, Unto Bretágne they took the rightë way, Aurelius and this magicián beside, And be descended where they would abide: And this was, as the bookës me remember, The coldë frosty season of December. Phoebus wax’d old, and huëd like latoun, That in his hotë declinatioún Shone as the burned gold, with streamës bright; But now in Capricorn adown he light, Where as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn. The bitter frostës, with the sleet and rain, Destroyed have the green in every yard. Janus sits by the fire with double beard, And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine: Before him stands the brawn of tusked swine, And “nowel” crieth every lusty man. Aurelius, in all that ev’r he can, Did to his master cheer and reverence, And prayed him to do his diligence To bringë him out of his painë’s smart, Or with a sword that he would slit his heart. This subtle clerk such ruth had on this man, That night and day he sped him, that he can, To wait a time of his conclusión; This is to say, to make illusión, By such an áppearánce of jugglery (I know no termës of astrology), That she and every wight should ween and say, That of Bretágne the rockës were away, Or else they werë sunken under ground. So at the last he hath a timë found To make his japës and his wretchedness Of such a superstitious cursedness. His tables Toletanës forth he brought, Full well corrected, that there lacked nought, Neither his collect, nor his expanse years, Neither his rootës, nor his other gears, As be his centres, and his arguments, And his proportional conveniénts For his equatións in everything. And by his