The time is come, a knave child she bare; Mauricius at the font-stone they him call. This Constable *doth forth come* a messenger, *caused to come forth* And wrote unto his king that clep’d was All’, How that this blissful tiding is befall, And other tidings speedful for to say He* hath the letter, and forth he go’th his way. *i.e. the messenger This messenger, to *do his avantage,* *promote his own interest* Unto the kinge’s mother rideth swithe,* *swiftly And saluteth her full fair in his language. “Madame,” quoth he, “ye may be glad and blithe, And thanke God an hundred thousand sithe;* *times My lady queen hath child, withoute doubt, To joy and bliss of all this realm about. “Lo, here the letter sealed of this thing, That I must bear with all the haste I may: If ye will aught unto your son the king, I am your servant both by night and day.” Donegild answer’d, “As now at this time, nay; But here I will all night thou take thy rest, To-morrow will I say thee what me lest.*” *pleases This messenger drank sadly* ale and wine, *steadily And stolen were his letters privily Out of his box, while he slept as a swine; And counterfeited was full subtilly Another letter, wrote full sinfully, Unto the king, direct of this mattere From his Constable, as ye shall after hear. This letter said, the queen deliver’d was Of so horrible a fiendlike creature, That in the castle none so hardy* was *brave That any while he durst therein endure: The mother was an elf by aventure Become, by charmes or by sorcery, And every man hated her company. Woe was this king when he this letter had seen, But to no wight he told his sorrows sore, But with his owen hand he wrote again, “Welcome the sond* of Christ for evermore *will, sending To me, that am now learned in this lore: Lord, welcome be thy lust* and thy pleasance, *will, pleasure My lust I put all in thine ordinance. “Keepe* this child, albeit foul or fair, *preserve And eke my wife, unto mine homecoming: Christ when him list may send to me an heir More agreeable than this to my liking.” This letter he sealed, privily weeping. Which to the messenger was taken soon, And forth he went, there is no more to do’n.* *do O messenger full fill’d of drunkenness, Strong is thy breath, thy limbes falter aye, And thou betrayest alle secretness; Thy mind is lorn,* thou janglest as a jay; *lost Thy face is turned in a new array;* *aspect Where drunkenness reigneth in any rout,* *company There is no counsel hid, withoute doubt.