The dai was clier, the Sonne hot, The Gregeis weren in gret doute, The whyle that here lord was oute: Thei wisten noght what scholde tyde, Bot waiten evere upon the tyde, To se what ende scholde falle. Ther stoden ek the nobles alle Forth with the comun of the toun; And as thei loken up and doun, 3760 Thei weren war withinne a throwe, Wher cam the bot, which thei wel knowe, And sihe hou Jason broghte his preie. And tho thei gonnen alle seie, And criden alle with o stevene, “Ha, wher was evere under the hevene So noble a knyht as Jason is?” And welnyh alle seiden this, That Jason was a faie kniht, For it was nevere of mannes miht 3770 The Flees of gold so forto winne; And thus to talen thei beginne. With that the king com forth anon, And sih the Flees, hou that it schon; And whan Jason cam to the lond, The king himselve tok his hond And kist him, and gret joie him made. The Gregeis weren wonder glade, And of that thing riht merie hem thoghte, And forth with hem the Flees thei broghte, 3780 And ech on other gan to leyhe; Bot wel was him that mihte neyhe, To se therof the proprete. And thus thei passen the cite And gon unto the Paleis straght. Medea, which foryat him naght, Was redy there, and seide anon, “Welcome, O worthi kniht Jason.” Sche wolde have kist him wonder fayn, Bot schame tornede hire agayn; 3790 It was noght the manere as tho, Forthi sche dorste noght do so. Sche tok hire leve, and Jason wente Into his chambre, and sche him sente Hire Maide to sen hou he ferde; The which whan that sche sih and herde, Hou that he hadde faren oute And that it stod wel al aboute, Sche tolde hire ladi what sche wiste, And sche for joie hire Maide kiste. 3800 The bathes weren thanne araied, With herbes tempred and assaied, And Jason was unarmed sone And dede as it befell to done: Into his bath he wente anon And wyssh him clene as eny bon; He tok a sopp, and oute he cam, And on his beste aray he nam, And kempde his hed, whan he was clad, And goth him forth al merie and glad 3810 Riht strawht into the kinges halle. The king cam with his knihtes alle And maden him glad welcominge; And he hem tolde the tidinge Of this and that, hou it befell, Whan that he wan the schepes fell. Medea, whan sche was asent, Com sone to that parlement, And whan sche mihte Jason se, Was non so glad of alle as sche. 3820 Ther was no joie forto seche, Of him mad every man a speche, Som man seide on, som man seide other; Bot thogh he were goddes brother And mihte make fyr and thonder, Ther mihte be nomore wonder Than was of him in that cite. Echon tauhte other, “This is he, Which hath in his pouer withinne That al the world ne mihte winne: 3830 Lo, hier the beste of alle goode.” Thus saiden thei that there stode, And ek that walkede up and doun, Bothe of the Court and of the toun.