And than thou schalt with ous go And live with ous ever mo, And yif thou makest ous y let, Where thou be, thou worst y fet[93] And to tore thine limes al, That nothing help the no schal, And thei thou best so to torn Yete thou worst with ous y born. When king Orfeo herd this cas, O we![94] quath he, allas! allas! Lever me were to lete[95] mi liif, Than thus to lese the quen mi wiif, He asked conseyl at ich man, Ac no man him help no can. A morwe the under tide is come And Orfeo hath his armes y nome, And wele ten hundred knightes with him, Ich y armed stout and grim; And with the quen wenten he, Right unto that ympe tre. Thai made scheltrom[96] in ich aside, And sayd thai wold ther abide, And dye ther everichon, Er the quen schuld fram hem gon: Ac yete amiddes hem ful right, The quen was oway y twight,[97] With fairi forth y nome, Men wist never wher sche was bicome. Tho was ther criing, wepe and wo, The king into his chamber is go, And oft swoned opon the ston And made swiche diol[98] and swiche mon, That neighe his liif was y spent; Ther was non amendement. He cleped to gider his barouns, Erls, lordes of renouns, And when thai al y comen were: Lordinges, he said, bifor you here Ich ordainy min heigh steward To wite[99] mi kingdom after ward, In mi stede ben he schal, To kepe mi londes over al, For now Ichave mi quen y lore,[100] The fairest levedi that ever was bore; Never eft y nil no woman se, Into wildernes Ichil te,[101] And live ther ever more, With wilde bestes in holtes[102] hore; And when ye under stond that y be spent, Make you than a parlement, And chese you a newe king: Now doth your best with al mi thing. Tho was ther wepeing in the halle, And grete cri among hem alle; Unnethe[103] might old or yong For wepeing speke a word with tong. Thai kneled adoun al y fere,[104] And praid him yif his wille were, That he no schuld nought from hem go. Do way! quath he, it schal be so: All his kingdom he forsoke, But a sclavin[105] on him he toke; He no hadde kirtel, no hode, Schert, no nother gode, Bot his harp he toke algate,[106] And dede him barfot out atte gate: No man most with him go. O way! what ther was wepe and wo, When he that hadde ben king with croun, Went so poverlich out of toun. Thurch wode, and over heth, Into the wildernes he geth, Nothing he fint that him is ays,[107] Bot ever he liveth in gret malais[108]; He that hadde y werd the fowe[109] and griis,[110] And on bed the purper biis,[111] Now on hard hethe he lith, With leves and gresse he him writh[112]: He that hadde castels, and tours, River, forest, frith with flours; Now, thei it commenci to snewe and frese,