So bere I forth an angri snoute Ful manye times in a yer. Bot, fader, now ye sitten hier 130 In loves stede, I yow beseche, That som ensample ye me teche, Wherof I mai miself appese. Mi Sone, for thin hertes ese I schal fulfille thi preiere, So that thou miht the betre lere What mischief that this vice stereth, Which in his Anger noght forbereth, Wherof that after him forthenketh, Whan he is sobre and that he thenketh 140 Upon the folie of his dede; And of this point a tale I rede. Ther was a king which Eolus Was hote, and it befell him thus, That he tuo children hadde faire, The Sone cleped was Machaire, The dowhter ek Canace hihte. Be daie bothe and ek be nyhte, Whil thei be yonge, of comun wone In chambre thei togedre wone, 150 And as thei scholden pleide hem ofte, Til thei be growen up alofte Into the youthe of lusti age, Whan kinde assaileth the corage With love and doth him forto bowe, That he no reson can allowe, Bot halt the lawes of nature: For whom that love hath under cure, As he is blind himself, riht so He makth his client blind also. 160 In such manere as I you telle As thei al day togedre duelle, This brother mihte it noght asterte That he with al his hole herte His love upon his Soster caste: And so it fell hem ate laste, That this Machaire with Canace Whan thei were in a prive place, Cupide bad hem ferst to kesse, And after sche which is Maistresse 170 In kinde and techeth every lif Withoute lawe positif, Of which sche takth nomaner charge, Bot kepth hire lawes al at large, Nature, tok hem into lore And tawht hem so, that overmore Sche hath hem in such wise daunted, That thei were, as who seith, enchaunted. And as the blinde an other ledeth And til thei falle nothing dredeth, 180 Riht so thei hadde non insihte; Bot as the bridd which wole alihte And seth the mete and noght the net, Which in deceipte of him is set, This yonge folk no peril sihe, Bot that was likinge in here yhe, So that thei felle upon the chance Where witt hath lore his remembrance. So longe thei togedre assemble, The wombe aros, and sche gan tremble, 190 And hield hire in hire chambre clos For drede it scholde be disclos And come to hire fader Ere: Wherof the Sone hadde also fere, And feigneth cause forto ryde; For longe dorste he noght abyde, In aunter if men wolde sein That he his Soster hath forlein: For yit sche hadde it noght beknowe Whos was the child at thilke throwe. 200 Machaire goth, Canace abit, The which was noght delivered yit, Bot riht sone after that sche was.