“That pity runneth soon in gentle heart (Feeling his simil’tude in paines smart), Is proved every day, as men may see, As well *by work as by authority;* *by experience as by doctrine* For gentle hearte kitheth* gentleness. *sheweth I see well, that ye have on my distress Compassion, my faire Canace, Of very womanly benignity That nature in your princples hath set. But for no hope for to fare the bet,* *better But for t’ obey unto your hearte free, And for to make others aware by me, As by the whelp chastis’d* is the lion, *instructed, corrected Right for that cause and that conclusion, While that I have a leisure and a space, Mine harm I will confessen ere I pace.”* *depart And ever while the one her sorrow told, The other wept, *as she to water wo’ld,* *as if she would dissolve Till that the falcon bade her to be still, into water* And with a sigh right thus she said *her till:* *to her* “Where I was bred (alas that ilke* day!) *same And foster’d in a rock of marble gray So tenderly, that nothing ailed me, I wiste* not what was adversity, *knew Till I could flee* full high under the sky. *fly Then dwell’d a tercelet <30> me faste by, That seem’d a well of alle gentleness; *All were he* full of treason and falseness, *although he was* It was so wrapped *under humble cheer,* *under an aspect And under hue of truth, in such mannere, of humility* Under pleasance, and under busy pain, That no wight weened that he coulde feign, So deep in grain he dyed his colours. Right as a serpent hides him under flow’rs, Till he may see his time for to bite, Right so this god of love’s hypocrite Did so his ceremonies and obeisances, And kept in semblance all his observances, That *sounden unto* gentleness of love. *are consonant to* As on a tomb is all the fair above, And under is the corpse, which that ye wet, Such was this hypocrite, both cold and hot; And in this wise he served his intent, That, save the fiend, none wiste what he meant: Till he so long had weeped and complain’d, And many a year his service to me feign’d, Till that mine heart, too piteous and too nice,* *foolish, simple All innocent of his crowned malice, *Forfeared of his death,* as thoughte me, *greatly afraid lest Upon his oathes and his surety he should die* Granted him love, on this conditioun, That evermore mine honour and renown Were saved, bothe *privy and apert;* *privately and in public* This is to say, that, after his desert, I gave him all my heart and all my thought (God wot, and he, that *other wayes nought*), *in no other way* And took his heart in change of mine for aye. But sooth is said, gone since many a day,