Florys drouȝ forþ þ{a}t ryng Þat his moder him gaff at her p{ar}tyng~: “Haue þis ryng~, le{m}man myn{e}; 968 Þ{o}u shalt not dye while it is þyn{e}.” Blaunchefloure seide þoo, [_No gap in MS._] “So ne shal it neu{er} goo, Þat þis ryng~ shal help me, 972 And þe deed on þe see.” He droȝ forþ a riche ring, His moder him ȝaf at his p{ar}ting. 684 “Haue þis ring, le{m}man min, Þu ne miȝt noȝt deie þe while he is þin.” Þe ring he haueþ forþ araȝt And to blau{n}cheflur bitaȝt. 688 “Þe ring ne schal neure aredde me; For deþ ne mai ihc se on þe.” [Sidenote: She attempts to force the ring back on him; it falls to the ground and is picked up by an earl.] Florys þ{a}t ryng~ hur rauȝt, And she it him agayn~ betauȝt, Nouther ne wyl other deed seene; 976 Þey let it falle hem bytwene; A king~ com~ after; a ryng~ he fonde, And brouȝt it forth in his honde. Þe ring heo wolde aȝe reche, And to floriz hi{m} biteche. 692 Ac for al þ{a}t heo miȝte do, He hi{m} nolde aȝen ifo. And þe ring bi one stunde, Fel adu{n} to þe grunde. 696 A duc stupede {and} hi{m} vp nom, And was þer of wel bliþe mon. Þus þe Children wepyng~ com~ 980 To þe fire and hur doom~. Byfore þe folk~ þey were brouȝt; Drery was her bothes þouȝt; Nu þes childre forþ me bri{n}geþ To here dom, al wepinge. 700 [Headnote: _The ‘fairness’ of the children excites compassion._] [Sidenote: The ‘fairness’ of the children excites compassion.] Þ{er}e was noon~ so stern{e} man 984 Þat þe Children loked oon~, Þ{a}t þey ne wolde, al wel fawe, Her iugement haue w{i}t{h}drawe, And w{i}t{h} grete Catel hem bygge, 988 Ȝif~ þey durst speke or sygge; For Flores was so feire a ȝonglyng~, And Blaunchefloure so swete a þing~, Þ{er} wyst no man whor hem were woo, 992 For no semblaunt þ{a}t þey made þoo. Ac þ{er} nas no{n} so st{ur}ne mon, Þ{a}t he{m} lokede vpon, Þ{a}t nolde þo suþe saȝe Þ{a}t iugem{en}t were wiþdraȝe. 704 [_No gap in MS._] For floriz was so fair ȝongling, And blau{n}cheflur so suete þing, Of me{n} {and} wi{m}me{n} þ{a}t buþ nuþe, Þ{a}t goþ {and} seoþ {and} spekeþ wiþ muþe, 708 Ne buþ so faire in here gladnesse, So hi were in here sorinesse. [Sidenote: But the Admiral is very wroth.] Þe Admyral was so wood~, Ne myȝt he nouȝt kele his hoot blood~; He bade þe Children fast be bound~, 996 And in to þe fire slong~. Ac þe admiral was so wroþ {and} wod, He q{ua}kede for g{ra}me þ{er} he stod. 712 And het he{m} binde wel faste And i{n} to þe fire caste.