Brocours of love that deceiven, No wonder is thogh thei receiven After the wrong that thei decerven; For whom as evere that thei serven And do plesance for a whyle, Yit ate laste here oghne guile Upon here oghne hed descendeth, Which god of his vengance sendeth, 4580 As be ensample of time go A man mai finde it hath be so. It fell somtime, as it was sene, The hihe goddesse and the queene Juno tho hadde in compainie A Maiden full of tricherie; For sche was evere in on acord With Jupiter, that was hire lord, To gete him othre loves newe, Thurgh such brocage and was untrewe 4590 Al otherwise than him nedeth. Bot sche, which of no schame dredeth, With queinte wordes and with slyhe Blente in such wise hir lady yhe, As sche to whom that Juno triste, So that therof sche nothing wiste. Bot so prive mai be nothing, That it ne comth to knowleching; Thing don upon the derke nyht Is after knowe on daies liht: 4600 So it befell, that ate laste Al that this slyhe maiden caste Was overcast and overthrowe. For as the sothe mot be knowe, To Juno was don understonde In what manere hir housebonde With fals brocage hath take usure Of love mor than his mesure, Whan he tok othre than his wif, Wherof this mayden was gultif, 4610 Which hadde ben of his assent. And thus was al the game schent; She soffreth him, as sche mot nede, Bot the brocour of his misdede, Sche which hir conseil yaf therto, On hire is the vengance do: For Juno with hire wordes hote, This Maiden, which Eccho was hote, Reproveth and seith in this wise: “O traiteresse, of which servise 4620 Hast thou thin oghne ladi served! Thou hast gret peine wel deserved, That thou canst maken it so queinte, Thi slyhe wordes forto peinte Towardes me, that am thi queene, Wherof thou madest me to wene That myn housbonde trewe were, Whan that he loveth elleswhere, Al be it so him nedeth noght. Bot upon thee it schal be boght, 4630 Which art prive to tho doinges, And me fulofte of thi lesinges Deceived hast: nou is the day That I thi while aquite may; And for thou hast to me conceled That my lord hath with othre deled, I schal thee sette in such a kende, That evere unto the worldes ende Al that thou hierest thou schalt telle, And clappe it out as doth a belle.” 4640 And with that word sche was forschape, Ther may no vois hire mouth ascape, What man that in the wodes crieth, Withoute faile Eccho replieth, And what word that him list to sein, The same word sche seith ayein. Thus sche, which whilom hadde leve To duelle in chambre, mot beleve In wodes and on helles bothe, For such brocage as wyves lothe, 4650 Which doth here lordes hertes change And love in other place strange. Forthi, if evere it so befalle, That thou, mi Sone, amonges alle Be wedded man, hold that thou hast, For thanne al other love is wast. O wif schal wel to thee suffise, And thanne, if thou for covoitise Of love woldest axe more, Thou scholdest don ayein the lore 4660 Of alle hem that trewe be.