Stanzas XLVI–LX

Then the mynstrelle weyndus on his way,
Als fast as he may,
Be none of the thryd day
He funde thaym atte the mete ;
The lady and hur mene,
And gestus grete plente,
Butte porter none funde he,
To werne him the ȝate.
Butte rayket in-to the halle,
Emunge the grete and the smalle,
And loket a-boute him aure alle,
He herd of no threte ;
Butte rialle seruys, and fyne
In bollus birlutte thay the wyne,
And cocus in the kechine,
Squytheli con squete !

Then the ladi conne he loute,
And the biurdes alle a-boute,
Bothe with-inne and with-oute,
No faute he ther fonde :
Knyȝte, squyer, ȝoman, ne knaue,
Horn lacket noȝte that thay schuld haue,
Thay nedut notte aftur hit to craue,
" Hit come to hor honde.
Thenne he wente to the dece,
Be-fore the pruddust in prece,
That lady was curtase,
And bede him stille stonde ;
He sayd, he was knoun and couthe,
And was comun fro bi-southe,
And ho had myrthe of his mouthe
To here his tithand.

A sennyȝt duellut he thare,
Ther was no spense for to spare,
Burdes thay were neuyr bare,
Butte euyr couurt clene ;
Bothe knyȝte and squiere,
Mynstrelle and messyngere,
Pilgreme and palmere,
Was welcum, I wene.
Ther was plenty of fode,
Pore men hade thayre gode,
Mete and drinke or thay ȝode,
To wete, wythe-outyn wene ;
The lord lenge wold noȝte,
Butte come home, qwen him gode thoȝte,
And bothe he hase with him broȝte
The kinge and the quene.

Now ther come fro the kechine
Rialle seruice and fine,
Ther was no wonting of wine,
To lasse ne to mare ;
Thay hade atte thayre sopere,
Riche metes and dere,
The king with a blythe chere,
Bade hom sle care !
Then sayd the kinge opon hiȝte,
Alle sq withe to the knyȝte,
" Suche a seruice on a nyȝte
Se I neuyr are !"
Thenne Bawdewyn smylit, and on him loghe,
Sayd, " Sir, God hase a gud pluȝe,
He may send vs alle enughe,
Qwy schuld we spare ?"

" Now I cummawunde the," quod the king,
To-morne in the mornyng,
That thou weynde on huntyng,
To wynne vs the dere ;
Fare furthe to the fenne,
Take with the howundus and men.
For thou conne hom best kenne,
Thou knoes best here.
For alle day to-morne wille I bide,
And no forthir wille I ride,
Butte with the lades of pride,
To make me gud chere."
To bed bownut thay that nyȝte,
And atte the morun atte days liȝte,
Thay blew hornys opon hiȝte,
And ferd furthe in fere.

Thenne the kynge cald his huntere,
And sayd, " Felaw, come here ;"
The tother, with a blithe chere,
Knelet on his kne ;
Dowun to the kinge con he lowte,
" I commawunde the to be alle nyȝte oute,
Bawdewyn, that is sturun and stowte,
With the schall he be.
Erly in the dawyng,
Loke that ȝe come fro huntyng,
If ȝe no venesun bring,
Full litille rechs me !"
The tother vnsquarut him ther tille,
Sayd, "Sir, that is atte ȝour aune wille,
That hald I resun and skille,
As euyr myȝte I the !"

And atte euyn the king con him dyȝte,
And callut to him a knyȝte,
And to the chambur full riȝte,
He hiees, gode waye ;
Qwere the lady of the howse,
And maydyns ful beuteowse,
Were curtase and curiowse,
For sothe in bed lay.
The kyng bede " Vndo;"
The lady asshes, " Querto ?"
He sayd, " I am comun here loe,
In derne for to play"
Ho sayd, " Haue ȝe notte ȝour aune quene here,
And I my lord to my fere,
To nyȝte more neȝe ȝe me nere,
In faythe gif I may !"

"Vndo the dur," quod the kinge,
" For bi him that made alle thinge,
Thou schalle haue no harmynge,
Butte in thi none wille !"
Vppe rose a dameselle squete,
In the kinge that ho lete,
He sette him downe on hur beddus fete,
And talkes so hur tille.
Sayd, " Medame, my knyȝte
Mun lye with the alle nyȝte,
Til to-morne atte days liȝte,
Take hit on non ille ;
For als euyr myȝte I the,
Thou schalle harmeles be,
We do hit for a wedde-fee,
The stryue for to stylle."

Thenne the kyng sayd to his knyȝte,
" Sone that thou were vndyȝte,
And in ȝondur bedde ryȝte,
Hie the, gud spede !"
The knyȝte did as he him bade,
And qwenne ho se him vnclad,
Then the lady wex drede,
Worlyke in wede.
He sayd, " Lye downe preuely hur by,
Butte neghe noȝte thou that lady,
For and thou do, thou schalle dey,
For thi derfe dede ;
Ne noȝte so hardy thou stur,
Ne onus turne the to hur ;
The tother sayd, " Nay, Sur,"
For him hade he drede.

Thenne the kyng asshet a chekkere,
And cald a damesel dere,
Downe thay sette hom in fere,
Opon the bed syde ;
Torches was ther mony liȝte,
And laumpus brennyng fulle briȝte,
Butte notte so hardy was that knyȝte,
His hede onus to hide.
Butte fro thay be-gan to play,
Quyle on the morun that hit was day,
Euyr he lokette as he lay,
Baudewynne to byde ;
And erly in the dawyng,
Come thay home from huntyng,
And hertis conne thay home bring,
And buckes of pride.

Thay toke this venesun fyne,
And hade hit to kechine,
The kinge sonde after Bawdewine,
And bede him cum see ;
To the chaumbur he takes the way,
He fyndus the king atte his play,
A knyȝte in his bedde lay,
With his lady.
Thenne sayd the king opon hiȝte,
" To nyȝte myssutte I my knyȝte,
And hithir folut I him riȝte,
Here funden is hee ;
And here I held hom bothe stille,
For to do hom in thi wille,
And gif thou take hit now tille ille,
No selcouthe thinge me."

Then the king asshed, " Art thou wrothe ?"
" Nay, Sir," he sayd, "with-outen othe,
Ne wille the lady no lothe,
I telle ȝow as quy ;
For hitte was atte hur awen wille,
Els thurt no mon comun hur tille,
And gif I take hitte thenne to ille,
Much maugreue haue Y,
For mony wyntur to-gedur we haue bene,
And ȝette ho dyd me neuyr no tene,
And iche syn schalle be sene,
And sette fulle sorely"
The king sayd, " And I hade thoȝte,
Quy that thou wrathis the noȝte,
And fyndus him in bed broȝte,
By thi laydy ?"

Quod Bawdewyn, " And ȝe wille sitte,
I schalle do ȝow wele to witte;"
" ȝisse," quod the king, " I the hete,
And thou wille noȝte layne."
" Hit be-felle in ȝour fadur tyme,
That was the kyng of Costantyne,
Puruayed a grete oste and a fyne,
And wente in-to Spayne.
We werrut on a Sawdan,
And alle his londus we wan,
And him seluun, or we blan,
Then were we fulle fayn ;
I wos so lufd with the king,
He gafe me to my leding,
Lordus atte my bidding,
Was buxum and bayne.

He gafe me a castelle to gete,
With alle the lordschippus grete,
I hade men atte my mete,
Fyue hundrythe and mo ;
And no wemen butte thre,
That owre seruandis schild be ;
One was bryȝtur of ble
Then ther othir toe,
Toe were atte one assente,
The thrid felow haue thay hente,
Vnto a welle ar thay wente.
And says hur alleso ;
" Sithin alle the loce in the lise,
Thou schalle tyne thine aprise ;"
And wurchun as the vnwise,
And tite conne hur sloe.

And for tho werkes were we wo,
Gart threte tho othir for to slo,
Thenne sayd the tone of tho,
" Lette vs haue oure life ;
And we schalle atte ȝour bidding be,
As myculle as we alle thre ;
Is none of ȝow in preuete
Schalle haue wontyng of wyfe."
Thay held vs wele that thay heȝte,
And diȝte vs on the day liȝte,
And thayre body vche nyȝte,
With-outun any stryue ;
The tone was more louely,
That the tother hade enuy,
Hur throte in sundur preuely,
Ho cutte hitte with a knyfe.