With fuch a wounde him hath through fmite,
That he must nedes fele and wite
To which no cure of surgery
Can helpe. But yet netheles
At thilke time he helde his pees,
That he no countenaunce made,
But openly with wordes glade,
So as he couthe in his manere,
He spake and made frendely chere,
Till it was time for to go.
And Collatin with him alfo
His leve toke, so that by night,
With all the hafte that they might,
They riden to the fiege ayein.
But Arrons was fo wo befein
With thoughtes, which upon him
That he all by the brode funne
To bedde goth nought for to refte,
But for to thenke upon the befte
And the faireft forth with alle,
That ever he figh or ever fhalle,
So as him thought in his corage
Where he portreieth her ymage.
First the fetures of her face,
In which nature had alle grace
Of womanly beaute beset,
So that it mighte nought be bet.
And how her yelwe hair was treffed
And her attire fo wel adreffed.
And how she spake, and how she wrought,
And how the wepte, and how she thought,
That he foryeten hath no dele,
But all it liketh him fo wele,
That in the worde nor in dede
Her lacked nought of womanhede.
And thus this tirannisshe knight
Was foupled, but nought half aright,
For he none other hede toke,
But that he might by fomme croke,
All though it were ayein her wille,
The luftes of his flesh fulfille,
Which love was nought resonable.
For wher honour is remevable,
It oughte well to ben avised.
But he, which hath his luft affifed
With melled love and tirannie,
Hath found upon his trecherie
A wey, which he thenketh to holde,
Audaces fortuna And faith: Fortune unto the bolde
Is favorable for to helpe.
And thus within him felf to yelpe,
As he, which was a wilde man,
Upon his trefon he began.
And up he fterte, and forth he wente
On horfbacke, but his entente
There knew no wight, and thus he name
The nexte waie, till he came
Unto Collacea the gate
Of Rome, and it was fomdele late
Right even upon the fonne fette.
And he, which hadde fhape his nette
Her innocence to betrappe,
And as it shulde tho mishappe,
As privelich as ever he might
He rode and of his hors alight
To-fore Collatines inn
And all frendelich goth him in,
As he, that was coufin of house.
And she, which is the goode spouse,
Lucrece, whan that she him figh,
With goodly chere drewe him nigh
As she, which all honour supposeth,
And him, so as she dare, oppofeth,
How it ftood of her husbonde.
And he tho did her understonde
With tales feigned in this wise,
Right as he wolde him felf devife,
Wherof he might her herte glade,
That she the better chere made.
Whan fhe the gladde wordes herde,
How that her houfbonde ferde,
And thus the trouthe was deceived
With flie trefon, which was received
To her, which mente alle good.
For as the feftes thanne ftood,
His fouper was right wel arraied,
But yet he hath no word affaied
To speke of love in no degre.
But with covert fubtilite
His frendly speches he affaiteth,
And as the tigre his time awaiteth
In hope for to cacche his pray.
Whan that the bordes were awey
And they have fouped in the halle,
He faith, that flepe is on him falle,
And praith, he mote go to bedde.
And she with alle haste spedde,
So as her thought it was to done,
That every thing was redy fone.
She brought him to his chambre tho
And toke her leve, and forth is go
Into her owne chambre by.
And she that wende certainly
Have had a frend and had a fo,
Wherof fell after mochel wo.
This tiraunt though he lie fofte, Out of his bedde aros full ofte And goth about and laid his ere To herken, till that alle were To bedde gone and flepten fafte. And than upon him felf he cafte A mantel and his fwerde all naked He toke in honde, and the unwaked A bedde lay. But what she mette, God wot, for he the dore unshette So prively, that none it herde, The fofte pas and forth he ferde Into the bed, where that the flepte, All fodeinly and in he crepte.
And her in bothe his armes toke.
With that this worthy wife awoke,
Which through tendreffe of womanhed
Her vois hath loft for pure drede,
That o word fpeke fhe ne dare.
And eke he bad her to beware,
For if she made noise or cry,
He said, his fwerd lay fafte by
To fleen her and her folke about.
And thus he brought her herte in doubt, That lich a lamb, whan it is fefed In wolves mouth, fo was difefed Lucrece, which he naked fonde, Wherof she swouned in his honde, And as who faith lay dede oppreffed. And he, which all him hadde adreffed To luft, toke thanne what him liste And goth his wey, that none it wiste, Into his owne chambre ayein And cleped up his chamberlein And made him redy for to ride. And thus this lecherous pride To horse lept and forth he rode. And fhe, which in her bed abode, Whan that she wift he was agone, She cleped after light anone And up aros long er the day
her fresh array, As fhe, which hath the world forfake,
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