<< Ther hadde he doon gret chivalrye Through his vertu and his maistrye; And for the love of his lemman [Had] cast doun many a doughty man. 1210 And next him daunced dame FRAUNCHYSE, Arrayed in ful noble gyse. FRAUNCHYSE. She was not broun ne dun of hewe, But whyt as snowe y-fallen newe. Hir nose was wrought at poynt devys, 1215 For it was gentil and tretys; With eyen gladde, and browes bente; Hir heer doun to hir heles wente. And she was simple as dowve on tree, Ful debonaire of herte was she. 1220 She durste never seyn ne do But that [thing] that hir longed to. And if a man were in distresse, And for hir love in hevinesse, Hir herte wolde have ful greet pitee, 1225 She was so amiable and free. For were a man for hir bistad, She wolde ben right sore adrad That she dide over greet outrage, But she him holpe his harm to aswage; 1230 >> Où il ot faite por s'amie Mainte jouste et mainte envaïe, Et percié maint escu bouclé, Maint hiaume i avoit desserclé, Et maint chevalier abatu, Et pris par force et par vertu. Après tous ceus se tint Franchise, Qui ne fu ne brune ne bise, Ains ere blanche comme nois; Et si n'ot pas nés d'Orlenois, 1200 Ainçois l'avoit lonc et traitis, Iex vairs rians, sorcis votis: S'ot les chevous et blons, et lons, Et fu simple comme uns coulons. Le cuer ot dous et debonnaire: Ele n'osast dire ne faire A nuli riens qu'el ne déust; Et s'ele ung homme cognéust Qui fust destrois por s'amitié, Tantost éust de li pitié, 1210 Qu'ele ot le cuer si pitéable, Et si dous et si amiable, Que se nus por li mal traisist, S'el ne li aidast, el crainsist Qu'el féïst trop grant vilonnie. Vestue ot une sorquanie, << Hir thoughte it elles a vilanye. And she hadde on a sukkenye, That not of hempen herdes was; So fair was noon in alle Arras. Lord, it was rideled fetysly! 1235 Ther nas nat oo poynt, trewely, That it nas in his right assyse. Ful wel y-clothed was Fraunchyse; For ther is no cloth sitteth bet On damiselle, than doth roket. 1240 A womman wel more fetys is In roket than in cote, y-wis. The whyte roket, rideled faire, Bitokened, that ful debonaire And swete was she that it bere. 1245 By hir daunced a bachelere; I can not telle you what he highte, But fair he was, and of good highte, Al hadde he be, I sey no more, The lordes sone of Windesore. 1250 And next that daunced CURTESYE, CURTESYE. That preised was of lowe and hye, For neither proud ne fool was she. She for to daunce called me,