This merchant, which that was full ware and wise, Creanced hath, and paid eke in París To certain Lombards ready in their hond The sum of gold, and got of them his bond, And home he went, merry as a popinjay. For well he knew he stood in such array That needës must he win in that voyáge 3771 A thousand francs, above all his costáge. 3772 His wife full ready met him at the gate, As she was wont of old uságe algate; 3773 And all that night in mirthë they beset; 3774 For he was rich, and clearly out of debt. When it was day, the merchant gan embrace His wife all new, and kiss’d her in her face, And up he went, and maked it full tough. “No more,” quoth she, “by God ye have enough;” And wantonly again with him she play’d, Till at the last this merchant to her said. “By God,” quoth he, “I am a little wroth With you, my wife, although it be me loth;