He went in to the kinges halle; Then seighe he ther a semly sight, A tabernacle blisseful and bright Ther in her maister king sete, And her quen fair and swete; Her crounes, her clothes, schine so bright, That unnethe bihold he hem might. When he hadde biholden al that thing, He kneled adoun bifor the king; O Lord, he seyd, yif it thi wille were, Mi menstraci thou schust y here. The king answerd, what man artow, That art hider y comen now? Ich, no non that is with me, No sent never after the. Seththen that ich here regni gan, Y no fond never so fole hardi man That hider to ous durst wende, Bot that Ichim walde of sende. Lord, quath he, trowe ful wel, Y nam bot a pover menstrel, And, sir, it is the maner of us, To seche mani a lordes hous, Thei we nought welcom no be, Yete we mot proferi forth our gle. Bifor the king he sat adoun And tok his harp so miri of soun, And tempreth his harp as he wel can, And blisseful notes he ther gan, That al that in the paleys were, Com to him for to here, And liggeth adoun to his fete, Hem thenketh his melody so swete. The king herkneth, and sitt ful stille, To here his gle he hath gode wille. Gode bourde[137] he hadde of his gle, The riche quen al so hadde he. When he hadde stint[138] his harping, Than seyd to him the king, Menstrel, me liketh wele thi gle, Now aske of me what it be, Largelich Ichil the pay, Now speke, and tow might asay. Sir, he seyd, Ich beseche the, Thatow woldest give me, That ich levedi bright on ble,[139] That slepeth under the ympe tre. Nay, quath the king, that nought nere, A sori couple of you it were, For thou art lene, rowe, and blac, And sche is lovesome with outen lac; A lothlich thing it were forthi,[140] To sen hir in thi compayni. O sir, he seyd, gentil king, Yete were it a wele fouler thing To here a lesing[141] of thy mouthe, So, sir, as ye seyd nouthe,[142] What Ich wold aski have Y schold; And nedes thou most thi word hold. The king seyd, seththen it is so, Take hir bi the hand, and go; Of hir Ichil thatow be blithe. He kneled adoun, and thonked him swithe.[143] His wiif he tok bi the hond And dede him swithe[144] out of that lond; And went him out of that thede,[145] Right as he came the way he yede.[146] So long he hath the way y nome, To Winchester he is y come, That was his owhen cite, Ac no man knewe that it was he, No forther than the tounes ende, For knoweleche no durst wende, Bot with a begger y bilt ful narwe, Ther he tok his herbarwe,[147] To him, and to his owhen wiif, As a minstrel of pover liif, And asked tidings of that lond, And who the kingdom held in hond. The pover begger, in his cote,[148] Told him everich a grot[149]