Hir wordes spoken ben so syghingly, With so pitousë chere and contenaunce, That every wight that meneth trewely Demeth that they in herte have such grevaunce; 25 They seyn so importáble is hir penaunce That, but hir lady lust to shewe hem grace, They right anoon +mot sterven in the place. 'A, lady myn!' they seyn, 'I yow ensure, As doth me grace, and I shal ever be, 30 Whyl that my lyf may lasten and endure, To yow as humble and lowe in ech degree As possible is, and kepe al thing secree Right as your-selven liste that I do; And elles moot myn herte breste a-two.' 35 Ful hard it is to knowe a mannes herte; For outward may no man the trouthe deme; When word out of his mouthe may noon asterte But it by reson any wight shuld queme, So is it seyd of herte, as hit wolde seme. 40 O feythful woman, ful of innocence, Thou art deceyved by fals apparence! By proces women, meved of pitee, Wening that al thing were as thise men sey, They graunte hem grace of hir benignitee 45 For that men shulde nat for hir sake dey; And with good herte sette hem in the wey Of blisful lovë--kepe it if they conne; Thus other-whylë women beth y-wonne. And whan this man the pot hath by the stele, 50 And fully is in his possessioun, With that woman he kepeth not to dele, After if he may fynden in the toun Any woman, his blinde affeccioun On to bestowë; evel mote he preve! 55 A man, for al his othes, is hard to leve! And, for that every fals man hath a make, (As un-to every wight is light to knowe), Whan this traitour this woman hath forsake, He faste him spedeth un-to his felowe; 60 Til he be there, his herte is on a lowe; His fals deceyt ne may him not suffyse, But of his treson telleth al the wyse. Is this a fair avaunt? is this honour, A man him-self accuse thus, and diffame? 65 Now is it good, confesse him a traitour, And bringe a woman to a sclandrous name, And telle how he her body hath do shame? No worship may he thus to him conquere, But greet esclaundre un-to him and here! 70 To herë? Nay, yet was it no repreef; For al for vertu was it that she wroughte; But he that brewed hath al this mischeef, That spak so faire, and falsly inward thoughte, His be the sclaundre, as it by reson oughte, 75 And un-to her a thank perpetuel, That in a nede helpe can so wel! Althogh of men, through sleyght and sotiltee, A sely, simple, and innocent woman Betrayed is, no wonder, sith the citee 80 Of Troye--as that the storie telle can-- Betrayed was, through the disceyt of man, And set on fyre, and al doun over-throwe, And finally destroyed, as men knowe.