A lady, which withoute guile Supposeth trouthe al that sche hiereth: Bot often he that evele stiereth His Schip is dreynt therinne amidde; And in this cas riht so betidde. Nectanabus upon a nyht, Whan it was fair and sterre lyht, 2290 This yonge lord ladde up on hih Above a tour, wher as he sih The sterres suche as he acompteth, And seith what ech of hem amonteth, As thogh he knewe of alle thing; Bot yit hath he no knowleching What schal unto himself befalle. Whan he hath told his wordes alle, This yonge lord thanne him opposeth,[912] And axeth if that he supposeth 2300 What deth he schal himselve deie.[913] He seith, ‘Or fortune is aweie And every sterre hath lost his wone,[914] Or elles of myn oghne Sone I schal be slain, I mai noght fle.’ Thoghte Alisandre in privete, ‘Hierof this olde dotard lieth’: And er that other oght aspieth, Al sodeinliche his olde bones He schof over the wal at ones, 2310 [Sidenote: =P. iii. 79=] And seith him, ‘Ly doun there apart: Wherof nou serveth al thin art? Thou knewe alle othre mennes chance And of thiself hast ignorance:[915] That thou hast seid amonges alle Of thi persone, is noght befalle.’ Nectanabus, which hath his deth, Yit while him lasteth lif and breth, To Alisandre he spak and seide That he with wrong blame on him leide; 2320 Fro point to point and al the cas He tolde, hou he his Sone was. Tho he, which sory was ynowh, Out of the dich his fader drouh, And tolde his moder hou it ferde In conseil; and whan sche it herde And kneu the toknes whiche he tolde, Sche nyste what sche seie scholde, Bot stod abayssht as for the while Of his magique and al the guile. 2330 Sche thoghte hou that sche was deceived,[916] That sche hath of a man conceived, And wende a god it hadde be. Bot natheles in such degre, So as sche mihte hire honour save, Sche schop the body was begrave. And thus Nectanabus aboghte The Sorcerie which he wroghte: Thogh he upon the creatures Thurgh his carectes and figures 2340 [Sidenote: =P. iii. 80=] The maistrie and the pouer hadde, His creatour to noght him ladde, Ayein whos lawe his craft he useth, Whan he for lust his god refuseth, And tok him to the dieules craft,[917] Lo, what profit him is belaft: That thing thurgh which he wende have stonde, Ferst him exilede out of londe Which was his oghne, and from a king Made him to ben an underling; 2350 And siththen to deceive a queene, That torneth him to mochel teene; Thurgh lust of love he gat him hate, That ende couthe he noght abate. His olde sleyhtes whiche he caste,[918]