+And telle of false men that hem bitrayen, +That al hir lyf ne doon nat but assayen +How many wommen they may doon a shame; For in your world that is now holde a game. And thogh thee lyke nat a lover be, 490 +Spek wel of love; this penance yive I thee. +And to the god of love I shal so preye, +That he shal charge his servants, by any weye, +To forthren thee, and wel thy labour quyte; Go now thy wey, this penance is but lyte. 495 *And whan this book is maad, yive hit the quene *On my behalfe, at Eltham, or at Shene.' +The god of love gan smyle, and than he seyde, +'Wostow,' quod he, 'wher this be wyf or mayde, +Or quene, or countesse, or of what degree, 500 +That hath so litel penance yiven thee, +That hast deserved sorer for to smerte? +But pitee renneth sone in gentil herte; +That maystow seen, she kytheth what she is.' +And I answerde, 'nay, sir, so have I blis, 505 +No more but that I see wel she is good.' +'That is a trewe tale, by myn hood,' +Quod Love, 'and that thou knowest wel, pardee, +If hit be so that thou avyse thee. +Hastow nat in a book, lyth in thy cheste, 510 +The grete goodnesse of the quene Alceste, +That turned was into a dayesye: +She that for hir husbonde chees to dye, +And eek to goon to helle, rather than he, +And Ercules rescowed hir, pardee, 515 +And broghte hir out of helle agayn to blis?' +And I answerde ageyn, and seyde, 'yis, +Now knowe I hir! And is this good Alceste, +The dayesye, and myn owne hertes reste? +Now fele I wel the goodnesse of this wyf, 520 +That bothe after hir deeth, and in hir lyf, +Hir grete bountee doubleth hir renoun! +Wel hath she quit me myn affeccioun +That I have to hir flour, the dayesye! +No wonder is thogh Iove hir stellifye, 525 +As telleth Agaton, for hir goodnesse! +Hir whyte coroun berth of hit witnesse; +For also many vertues hadde she, +As smale floures in hir coroun be. +In remembraunce of hir and in honour, 530 +Cibella made the dayesy and the flour +Y-coroned al with whyt, as men may see; +And Mars yaf to hir coroun reed, pardee, +In stede of rubies, set among the whyte.' +Therwith this quene wex reed for shame a lyte, 535 +Whan she was preysed so in hir presence. +Than seyde Love, 'a ful gret negligence Was hit to thee, that ilke tyme thou made *"Hyd, Absolon, thy tresses," in balade, *That thou forgete hir in thy song to sette, 540 *Sin that thou art so gretly in hir dette, And wost so wel, that kalender is she *To any woman that wol lover be. For she taughte al the craft of fyn lovinge,