Of Armenye, I rede þus, Ther was a king, which Herupus Was hote, and he a lusti Maide To dowhter hadde, and as men saide Hire name was Rosiphelee; Which þo was of gret renomee, ffor sche was boþe wys and fair, And scholde ben hire fader hair. Bot sche hadde o defalte of Slowþe Towardes loue, and þat was rowþe; ffor so wel cowde noman seie, Which mihte sette hire in þe weie Of loues occupacion Thurgh non ymaginacion; That scole wolde sche noght knowe. And þus sche was on of þe slowe As of such hertes besinesse, Til whanne Venus þe goddesse, Which loues court haþ forto reule, Haþ broght hire into betre reule, fforþ wiþ Cupide and wiþ his miht: ffor þei merueille how such a wiht, Which þo was in hir lusti age, Desireþ nother Mariage Ne ȝit þe loue of paramours, Which euere haþ be þe comvn cours Amonges hem þat lusti were. So was it schewed after þere: ffor he þat hihe hertes loweþ Wiþ fyri Dartes whiche he þrovreþ, Cupide, which of loue is godd, In chastisinge haþ mad a rodd To dryue awei hir wantounesse; So þat wiþinne a while, I gesse, Sche hadde on such a chance sporned, That al hire mod was ouertorned, Which ferst sche hadde of slow manere: ffor þus it fell, as þou schalt hiere. Whan come was þe Monþe of Maii, Sche wolde walke vpon a dai, And þat was er þe Sonne Ariste; Of wommen bot a fewe it wiste, And forþ sche wente priuely Vnto þe Park was faste by, Al softe walkende on þe gras, Til sche cam þer þe Launde was, Thurgh which þer ran a gret riuere. It þoghte hir fair, and seide, Here I wole abide vnder þe schawe: And bad hire wommen to wiþdrawe, And þer sche stod al one stille, To þenke what was in hir wille. Sche sih þe swote floures springe, Sche herde glade foules singe, Sche sih þe bestes in her kinde, The buck, þe do, þe hert, þe hinde, The madle go wiþ þe femele; And so began þer a querele Betwen loue and hir oghne herte, ffro which sche couþe noght asterte. And as sche caste hire yhe aboute, Sche syh clad in o suite a route Of ladis, wher þei comen ryde Along vnder þe wodes syde. On faire amblende hors þei sete, That were al whyte, fatte and grete, And euerichon þei ride on side: The Sadles were of such a Pride, Wiþ Perle and gold so wel begon, So riche syh sche neuere non: In kertles and in Copes riche Thei weren cloþed, alle liche, Departed euene of whyt and blew; Wiþ alle lustes þat sche knew Thei were enbrouded oueral. Here bodies weren long and smal, The beaute faye vpon her face Non erþly þing it may desface; Corones on here hed þei beere, As ech of hem a qweene weere, That al þe gold of Cresus halle The leste coronal of alle Ne mihte haue boght after þe worþ: Thus come þei ridende forþ.