Whiche under lock and under key,
That no man may it ftele awey,
Hath al the trefor underfonge,
That unto love may belonge.
The lefte loking of her eye
May nought be stole, if he it sigh,
And who fo gruccheth for fo lit
He wolde fone set a wite
On him, that wolde ftele more.
And that me greveth wonder fore,
For this proverb is ever newe,
That ftronge lockes maken trewe
Of hem that wolden ftele and pike.
For fo wel can there no man flike
By him ne by no other mene,
To whom daunger wol yive or lene
Of that trefor he hath to kepe.
So though I wolde ftalke and crepe
And waite on eve and eke on morwe,
Of daunger shal I nothing borwe,
And ftele wot wel may I nought.
And thus I am right wel bethought,
While daunger ftont in his office,
Of ftelthe, which ye clepe a vice,
I shall be gilty never mo.
Therfore I wold he were ago
So fer, that I never of him herde,
How fo that afterward it ferde,
For than I mighte yet parcas
Of love make some purchas
By ftelth or by fome other
That now fro me ftont fer away.
But, fader, as ye tolde above,
How ftelthe goth a night for love,
I may nought wel that point forfake,
That ofte times I ne wake
On nightes, whan that other slepe.
But now, I pray you take kepe,
Whan I am logged in fuch wife,
That I by nighte may arise
At fome window and loken out
And fe the housing al about,
So that I may the chambre knowe,
In which my lady, as I trowe,
Lith in her bed and flepeth softe,
Than is min hert a thefe ful ofte,
For there I ftonde and behold
The longe nightes, that ben cold,
And thenke on her, that lieth there.
And than I wisshe, that I were
Als wife as was Nectanabus
Or elles as was Protheus,
That couthen both of nigromaunce
In what likeneffe, in what femblaunce
Right as him lift him felf transforme.
For if I were of fuche a forme,
I fay, thanne I wolde flee
Into her chambre for to fe,
Some thing of love pike and stele.
And thus I thenke thoughtes fele,
And though there of no thing be foth,
Yet efe as for a time it doth.
But ate lafte whan I finde,
That I am fall into
my minde,
And se, that I have ftonde longe
And have no profit underfonge,
Than stalke I to my bed withinne.
And this is all that ever I winne
Of love, whan I walke on night.
My will is good, but of my might
Me lacketh both, and of my grace,
For what so that my thought embrace,
Yet have I nought the better ferde.
My fader, lo, now have ye herde
What I by stelth of love have do,
And how my will hath be therto,
If I be worthy to penaunce,
it to your ordenaunce.
My fone, of ftelth I the behete,
Though it be for a time swete,
At ende it doth but litel good,
As by enfample how that it stood
Whilom, I may the telle now.
I pray you, fader, say me how.
My fone, of him, which goth by day
And in his Methamor he tolde
A tale, which is good to holde.
The poet upon this matere
fuper ifto latrocinio, Of ftelthe wrote in this manere. quod de die contingit,
ponit exemplum. Et Venus, which hath the lawe in honde Leuchothoe Orchami Of thing, which may nought be withstonde,
arcta matris cuftodia As fhe, which the trefor to warde virgo prefervabatur,
Phebus eius pulcritu- Of love hath within her warde, dinem concupifcens,
in conclave domus Phebus to love hath fo conftreigned,
virginis pudiciciam That he withoute rest is peined
ravit, unde ipfa in- With all his herte to coveite
pregnata iratus pater A maiden, which was warded ftreite
liendum vivam effo- Withinne chambre and kept so clos,
florem,quem folfequi- That felden was, whan fhe defclos um vocant, dicunt
confequenter Goth with her moder for to play.
Leuchothoe, so as men say,
This maiden hight and Orchamus
Her fader was. And befell thus,
This doughter, that was kept fo dere,
And hadde be from yere to yere
Under her moders difcipline
A clene maide and a virgine,
Upon the whose nativite
Of comeliheed and of beaute
Nature hath fet all that she may,
That lich unto the fresshe may,
Whiche other monthes of the yere
Sourmounteth, fo withoute pere
Was of this maiden the feture,
Wherof Phebus out of mesure
Her loveth and on every fide
Awaiteth, if so may betide,
That he through any fleighte might
Her lufty maidenheed unright,
The which were all his worldes welth.
And thus lurkend upon his ftelth
In his await fo longe he lay,
Till it befell upon a day,
That he through out her chambre wall
Came in all fodeinlich and stall
That thing, which was to him so lefe.
But wo the while, he was a thefe,
For Venus, which was enemy
Of thilke loves michery,
Defcovereth all the pleine cas
To Climene, which thanne was
Toward Phebus his concubine.
And fhe to lette the covine
Of thilke love dedely wrothe
To pleign upon this maide she goth
And tolde her fader, howe it stood,
Wherof for forwe well nigh wode
Unto her moder thus he faide:
Lo, what it is to kepe a maide.
To Phebus dare I nothing speke,
But upon her it shall be wreke,
So that thefe maidens after this
Mow take enfample, what it is
To fuffre her maidenheed be stole,
Wherof that she the deth shall thole.
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