The two maidens hir biside No durst with hir no leng abide, But ourn[76] to the palays ful right, And told bothe squier and knight, That her quen awede[77] wold, And bad hem go and hir at hold. Knightes urn[76], and levedis al so, Damisels sexti and mo, In the orchard to the quen hye come, And her up in her armes nome,[78] And brought hir to bed attelast, And held hir there fine fast; Ac ever sche held in o cri And wold up and owy. When Orfeo herd that tiding Never him nas wers for no thing; He come with knightes tene To chaumber right bifor the quene, And biheld and seyd with grete pite: O lef[79] liif, what is te,[80] That ever yete hast ben so stille, And now gredest[81] wonder schille[82]; Thi bodi, that was so white y core,[83] With thine nailes is al to tore, Allas! thi rode,[84] that was so red, Is al wan as thou were ded; And also thine fingres smale, Beth al blodi and al pale; Allas! thi lovesum eyghen[85] to Loketh so man doth on his fo; A dame, Ich biseche merci, Let ben al this reweful cri, And tel me what the is, and hou, And what thing may the help now? Tho lay sche stille attelast, And gan to wepe swithe[86] fast, And seyd thus the king to: Allas! mi lord, sir Orfeo, Seththen[87] we first to gider were, Ones wroth never we nere, Bot ever Ich have y loved the As mi liif, and so thou me, Ac now we mot[88] delen ato, Do thi best, for y mot go. Allas! quath he, forlorn Ich am, Whider wiltow go and to wham? Whider thou gost Ichil with the, And whider Y go thou schalt with me. Nay, nay, sir, that nought nis, Ichil the telle al how it is: As Ich lay this under tide, And slepe under our orchard side, Ther come to me to fair knightes Wele y armed al to rightes, And bad me comen an heighing,[89] And speke with her lord the king; And Ich answerd at wordes bold, Y durst nought, no y nold. Thai priked oghain[90] as thai might drive, Tho com her king also blive, With an hundred knightes and mo, And damissels an hundred al so; Al on snowe white stedes, As white as milke were her wedes, Y no seighe never yete bifore So fair creatours y core! The king hadde a croun on hed, It nas of silver, no of gold red, Ac it was of a precious ston; As bright as the sonne it schon: And as son as he to me cam, Wold Ich, nold Ich, he me nam, And made me with him ride, Opon a palfray bi his side, And brought me to his pallays, Wele atird in ich ways; And schewed me castels and tours, Rivers, forestes, frith[91] with flours; And his riche stedes[92] ichon, And seththen me brought oghain hom, In to our owhen orchard, And said to me after ward: Loke dame, to morwe thatow be Right here under this ympe tre;