that I am fordo. Mine heritagë must I needës sell, And be a beggar; here I will not dwell, And shamen all my kindred in this place, But I of him may gettë better grace. But natheless I will of him assay At certain dayës year by year to pay, And thank him of his greatë courtesy. My trothë will I keep, I will not lie.” With heartë sore he went unto his coffer, And broughtë gold unto this philosópher, The value of five hundred pound, I guess, And him beseeched, of his gentleness, To grant him dayës of the remenant; And said; “Master, I dare well make avaunt, I failed never of my truth as yet. For sickerly my debtë shall be quit Towardës you how so that e’er I fare To go a-begging in my kirtle bare: But would ye vouchësafe, upon suretý, Two year, or three, for to respitë me, Then were I well, for ellës must I sell Mine heritage; there is no more to tell.”
This philosópher soberly answér’d, And saidë thus, when he these wordës heard; “Have I not holden covenant to thee?” “Yes, certes, well and truëly,” quoth he. “Hast thou not had thy lady as thee liked?” “No, no,” quoth he, and sorrowfully siked. “What was the causë? tell me if thou can.” Aurelius his tale anon began, And told him all as ye have heard before, It needeth not to you rehearse it more. He said, “Arviragus of gentleness Had lever die in sorrow and distress, Than that his wife were of her trothë false.” The sorrow of Dorigen he told him als’, How loth her was to be a wicked wife, And that she lever had lost that day her life; And that her troth she swore through innocénce; She ne’er erst had heard speak of apparence; That made me have of her so great pitý, And right as freely as he sent her to me, As freely sent I her to him again: This is all and some, there is no more to sayn. The philosópher answer’d; “Levë brother, Evereach of you did gently to the other; Thou art a squiër, and he is a knight, But God forbiddë, for his blissful might, But if a clerk could do a gentle deed As well as any of you, it is no drede. Sir, I releasë thee thy thousand pound, As thou right now were crept out of the ground, Nor ever ere now haddest knowen me. For, Sir, I will not take a penny of thee For all my craft, nor naught for my travail; Thou hast y-payed well for my vitáille; It is enough; and farewell, have good day.” And took his horse, and forth he went his way.