+And, for a lord, that is ful foul to use. +And if so be he may him nat excuse, [But] axeth mercy with a sorweful herte, 390 +And profreth him, right in his bare sherte, +To been right at your owne Iugement, +Than oghte a god, by short avysement, +Considre his owne honour and his trespas. +For sith no cause of deeth lyth in this cas, 395 +Yow oghte been the lighter merciable; +Leteth your yre, and beth somwhat tretable! +The man hath served yow of his conning, And forthered your lawe with his making. *Whyl he was yong, he kepte your estat; 400 *I not wher he be now a renegat. But wel I wot, with that he can endyte, He hath maked lewed folk delyte +To serve you, in preysing of your name. +He made the book that hight the Hous of Fame, 405 +And eek the Deeth of Blaunche the Duchesse, +And the Parlement of Foules, as I gesse, +And al the love of Palamon and Arcyte +Of Thebes, thogh the story is knowen lyte; +And many an ympne for your halydayes, 410 +That highten Balades, Roundels, Virelayes; And for to speke of other besinesse, +He hath in prose translated Boëce; *And of the Wreched Engendring of Mankinde, *As man may in pope Innocent y-finde; 415 +And mad the Lyf also of seynt Cecyle; (B. 426) +He made also, goon sithen a greet whyl, +Origenes upon the Maudeleyne; +Him oghte now to have the lesse peyne; +He hath mad many a lay and many a thing. 420 +'Now as ye been a god, and eek a king, +I, your Alceste, whylom quene of Trace, +I axe yow this man, right of your grace, +That ye him never hurte in al his lyve; +And he shal sweren yow, and that as blyve, 425 +He shal no more agilten in this wyse; +But he shal maken, as ye wil devyse, +Of wemen trewe in lovinge al hir lyve, +Wher-so ye wil, of maiden or of wyve, +And forthren yow, as muche as he misseyde 430 +Or in the Rose or elles in Crisseyde.' +The god of love answerde hir thus anoon, +'Madame,' quod he, 'hit is so long agoon +That I yow knew so charitable and trewe, +That never yit, sith that the world was newe, 435 +To me ne fond I better noon than ye. That, if that I wol save my degree, +I may ne wol nat warne your requeste; Al lyth in yow, doth with him what yow leste +And al foryeve, with-outen lenger space; 440 +For who-so yeveth a yift, or doth a grace, +Do hit by tyme, his thank is wel the more; +And demeth ye what he shal do therfore. +Go thanke now my lady heer,' quod he. +I roos, and doun I sette me on my knee, 445 +And seyde thus: 'Madame, the god above +Foryelde yow, that ye the god of love