Upon her goddes grace abide
To ferven him the nightes tide.
The preftes tho gon home ayeine, And she goth to her sovereine Of goddes will. And as it was She tolde him all the plaine cas, Wherof he was deceived eke
And bad, that she her fhulde meke All hole unto the goddes hefte. And thus she, which was all honeste To godward, after her entent At night unto the temple went, Where that the false prestes were. And they receiven her there With fuche a token of holineffe, As though they seen a goddesse, And all within in prive place A fofte bedde of large space They hadde made and encortined, Where he was afterward engined. But she, whiche all honour fuppofeth, The false prestes than opposeth And axeth by what obfervaunce She might most to the plesaunce Of god that nightes reule kepe. And they her bidden for to slepe Liggend upon the bedde a loft, For, so they said, al still and soft God Anubus her wolde awake. The counfeil in this wife take
The preftes fro this lady gone. And she that wiste of guile none In the maner as it was faid To flepe upon the bedde is leid, In hope that she sholde acheve Thing, which stode than upon
Fulfilled of all holinesse. But she hath failed as I geffe, For in a closet faste by
The duke was hid fo prively,
That she him mighte nought perceive.
And he that thoughte to deceive
Hath fuche array upon
That whan he wold unto her come
It fhulde femen at her eye, As though the verriliche feie God Anubus, and in suche wise This ypocrite of his queintise Awaiteth ever til she slept. And than out of his place he crept So ftille, that she nothing herde, And to the bed stalkend he ferde And fodeinly, er she it wiste, Beclipt in armes he her kifte, Wherof in womannisfhe drede She woke and nifte what to rede. But he with fofte wordes milde Comforteth her and faith, with childe He wolde her make in fuche a kinde, That al the world shall have in minde
The worshippe of that ilke sone, For he fhall with the goddes wone And ben him felfe a god also. With fuche wordes and with mo, The which he feigneth in his fpeche, This ladies wit was al to feche
As she, which alle trouthe weneth. But he, that all untrouthe meneth, With blinde tales fo her ladde, That all his will of her he hadde. And whan him thought it was inough, Ayein the day he him withdrough So prively, that she ne wiste
Where he be come, but as him liste Out of the temple he goth his way. And she began to bid and pray, Upon the bare ground knelende, And after that made her offrende And to the preftes yeftes great She yaf, and homeward by the strete The duke her mette and faide thus: The mighty god, whiche Anubus Is hote, he fave the Pauline, For thou art of his discipline So holy, that no mannes might May do, that he hath do to night Of thing, which thou haft ever eschued. But I his grace have fo pursued, That I was made his lieutenaunt. Forthy by way of covenaunt
Fro this day forth I am all thine, And if the like to be mine
That ftant upon thin owne wille. She herde his tale and bare it stille And home she went as it befell Into her chambre and there fhe fell Upon her bed to wepe and crie And faide: O derke ypocrisie, Through whofe diffimulation Of false ymagination
I am thus wickedly deceived, But that I have it apperceived I thonke unto the goddes alle. For though it ones be befalle I shall never eft while that I live, And thilke avow to god I yive. And thus wepende she compleigneth Her faire face and all difteigneth With wofull teres of her
So that upon this agonie
Her husbonde is inne come
And figh how she was overcome
With forwe and axeth her what her eileth.
And the with that her felf beweileth
Well more than fhe didde afore And faid: alas, wifehode is lore In me, which whilom was honest, I am none other than a beste Nowe I defouled am of two. And as the mighte fpeake tho
Ashamed with a pitous onde, She tolde unto her husebonde The foth of all the hole tale,
And in her speche dead and pale She fwouneth well nigh to the laste. And he her in his armes fafte Upheld and ofte fwore his oth, That he with her is nothing wroth, For wel he wot she may there nought. But netheles within his thought His hert stode in a sory plite
And faid, he wolde of that defpite Be venged how fo ever it falle, And fend unto his frendes alle. And whan they were come in fere, He tolde hem upon this matere And axeth hem what was to done. And they avised were fone
And said, it thought hem for the beste To fette first his wife in refte And after pleine to the king Upon the matter of this thing. Tho was his wofull wife comforted By alle waies and difported,
Til that she was fomdele amended. And thus a day or two dispended The thridde day she goth to pleine With many a worthy citezeine And he with many a citezeine. Whan themperour it herde faine
« PreviousContinue » |