Loke, how a sek man for his hele Takth baldemoine with Canele, And with the Mirre takth the Sucre, Ryht upon such a maner lucre Stant Florent, as in this diete: He drinkth the bitre with the swete, He medleth sorwe with likynge, And liveth, as who seith, deyinge; 1710 His youthe schal be cast aweie Upon such on which as the weie Is old and lothly overal. Bot nede he mot that nede schal: He wolde algate his trowthe holde, As every knyht therto is holde, What happ so evere him is befalle: Thogh sche be the fouleste of alle, Yet to thonour of wommanhiede Him thoghte he scholde taken hiede; 1720 So that for pure gentilesse, As he hire couthe best adresce, In ragges, as sche was totore, He set hire on his hors tofore And forth he takth his weie softe; No wonder thogh he siketh ofte. Bot as an oule fleth be nyhte Out of alle othre briddes syhte, Riht so this knyht on daies brode In clos him hield, and schop his rode 1730 On nyhtes time, til the tyde That he cam there he wolde abide; And prively withoute noise He bringth this foule grete Coise To his Castell in such a wise That noman myhte hire schappe avise, Til sche into the chambre cam: Wher he his prive conseil nam Of suche men as he most troste, And tolde hem that he nedes moste 1740 This beste wedde to his wif, For elles hadde he lost his lif. The prive wommen were asent, That scholden ben of his assent: Hire ragges thei anon of drawe, And, as it was that time lawe, She hadde bath, sche hadde reste, And was arraied to the beste. Bot with no craft of combes brode Thei myhte hire hore lockes schode, 1750 And sche ne wolde noght be schore For no conseil, and thei therfore, With such atyr as tho was used, Ordeinen that it was excused, And hid so crafteliche aboute, That noman myhte sen hem oute. Bot when sche was fulliche arraied And hire atyr was al assaied, Tho was sche foulere on to se: Bot yit it may non other be, 1760 Thei were wedded in the nyht; So wo begon was nevere knyht As he was thanne of mariage. And sche began to pleie and rage, As who seith, I am wel ynowh; Bot he therof nothing ne lowh, For sche tok thanne chiere on honde And clepeth him hire housebonde, And seith, “My lord, go we to bedde, For I to that entente wedde, 1770 That thou schalt be my worldes blisse:” And profreth him with that to kisse, As sche a lusti Lady were. His body myhte wel be there, Bot as of thoght and of memoire His herte was in purgatoire. Bot yit for strengthe of matrimoine He myhte make non essoine, That he ne mot algates plie To gon to bedde of compaignie: 1780 And whan thei were abedde naked, Withoute slep he was awaked; He torneth on that other side, For that he wolde hise yhen hyde Fro lokynge on that foule wyht. The chambre was al full of lyht, The courtins were of cendal thinne, This newe bryd which lay withinne, Thogh it be noght with his acord, In armes sche beclipte hire lord, 1790 And preide, as he was torned fro, He wolde him torne ayeinward tho;