Som saiden women loven best richesse, Som saiden honour, som saiden jolinesse, Som riche array, some saiden lust a-bedde, And oft time to be widewe and to be wedde. Some saiden that we ben in herte most esed Whan that we ben yflatered and ypreised. He goth ful nigh the sothe, I wol not lie; A man shal winne us best with flaterie; And with attendance and with besinesse Ben we ylimed bothe more and lesse. And som men saiden, that we loven best For to be free, and do right as us lest, And that no man repreve us of our vice, But say that we ben wise and nothing nice: For trewely ther n'is non of us all, If any wight wol claw us on the gall, That we n'ill kike for that he saith us soth; Assay, and he shal find it that so doth: For be we never so vicious withinne We wol be holden wise and clene of sinne. And som saiden, that gret delit han we For to be holden stable and eke secre, And in o purpos stedfastly to dwell, And not bewreyen thing that men us tell; But that tale is not worth a rake-stele. Parde we women connen nothing hele, Witnesse on Mida; wol ye here the Tale? Ovide, amonges other thinges smale, Said Mida had under his longe heres Growing upon his hed two asses eres, The whiche vice he hid, as he beste might, Ful subtilly from every mannes sight, That, save his wif, ther wist of it no mo; He loved hire most, and trusted hire also; He praied hire that to no creature She n'olde tellen of his disfigure. She swore him nay, for all the world to winne She n'olde do that vilanie ne sinne, To make hire husbond han so foule a name: She n'olde not tell it for hire owen shame. But natheles hire thoughte that she dide That she so longe shulde a conseil hide; Hire thought it swal so sore about hire herte, That nedely som word hire must asterte; And sith she dorst nat telle it to no man, Doun to a mareis faste by she ran; Til she came ther hire herte was a-fire: And as a bitore bumbleth in the mire, She laid hire mouth unto the water doun. Bewrey me not, thou water, with thy soun, Quod she; to thee I tell it, and no mo, Min husbond hath long asses eres two. Now is min herte all hole, now is it out, I might no lenger kepe it out of dout. Here may ye see, though we a time abide, Yet out it moste; we can no conseil hide. The remenant of the Tale, if ye wol here, Redeth Ovide, and ther ye may it lere. This knight, of which my Tale is specially, Whan that he saw he might not come therby, (This is to sayn, what women loven most) Within his brest ful sorweful was his gost. But home he goth, he mighte not sojourne; The day was come that homward must he turne. And in his way it happed him to ride, In all his care, under a forest side, Wheras he saw upon a dance go