32
"Lo, good Madame," seyd god Apollo,
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"What may he do more but sew to your grace.
Beholde how the teares from hys eyen go.
Hit ys satysfaccion half for hys trespase.
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Now gloryous goddesse shewe your pyteous face
To thys poore prysoner at my request.
All we for your honour thynke thus ys best.
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"And yef hit lyke yow to do in thys wyse,
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And to foryeue hym clerely hys offense,
Oon thyng suerly I will yow promyse,
Yef he eft rebelle and make resystence
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Or dysobey vnto your sentence,
For euery tree that he maketh fall,
Out of the erthe an hundred aryse shall.
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"So that your game shall nat dyscrese
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For lak of shade, I dar vndyrtake."
"Well, syr Apollo," seyde she than, "woll I cese
Of all my rancour and mery with yow make."
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And then god Neptunus of hys mater spake,
Seying thus, "Apollo, though Diana hym relese,
Yet shall he su to me to haue hys pese."
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35
"A," seyde Apollo, "ye wend I had foryete
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Yow for my lady Diane, the goddesse.
Nay, thynke nat so, for I woll yow entrete
As well as hyr without long processe.
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Wyll ye agre that Pheb[e] your mastresse
May haue the guydyng of your varyaunce?"
"I shall abyde," quod he, "her ordynaunce."
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"Well then," quod Apollo, "I pray you goddes all,
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And goddesses eke, that be heere present,
That ye compaygnably wyll aboorde fall."
"Nay then," seyde Othea, "hit ys nat conuenyent,
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A dew ordre in euery place ys expedyent
To be had, wherfore ye may nat let
To be your owne marchall at your owne banket."
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