The romance of Guy of Warwick. The first or 14th-century version.
Zupitza, Julius, ed. 1844-1895.
GUYE IS to courte come,
As man that is in sorowe nome.
On knees before Felice he hym didde, [Caius MS. 107 page 12]
And sorowfully seide in that stede,
All with quakyng steuene;
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Thus he seide, and spake full euene:
'Felice the faire, for goddis loue, mercy!
On me haue reuthe for our lady,
That y ne fynde the my full foo,
For loue y you praye, herken me to.
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Hense forewarde y woll not hele
The grete loue, that me doth fele:
Shewe y muste the peyne and sorowe
That y haue for you euyne and morowe.
Ye bee that thynge for whom y mourne,
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Fro you ne may my herte tourne:
Ouere all thinge y muste you loue,
Whether it tourne benethe or aboue,
Bot that y shall loue you aye,
Whiles that y lyue maye.
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Vnder heuen noo thinge is,
Were it good or yuel ywis,
That y for the doo it [ne] wolde,
My lif to lese though y shulde.
Ye bee my lif and my deth y-wis:
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Withoute you loste is all my blis.
Well more y loue you than me: [Caius MS. 107 page 12:2]
Deye y shall for loue of you pardee,
Bot thou haue mercy on me,
Myself y shall for sorowe slee.
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Yf ye wiste the heuynesse,
The grete peyne, and the sorowfulnesse,
That y haue for you nyghte and daye [Caius MS. 107 page 13]
(With true loue y it saye)—
And you it might witterly see,
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I trowe ye wolde haue mercy on me.'
Felice to him answerde thoo,
'Telle me, Guye, if ye bee so
The Stywardis sone that highte Sywarde,
I holde you for a fole musarde.
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Nowe thou me haste of loue besoughte,
To fole-hardy thou art in thoughte,
Or thou me takest for a fole.
Thou art taughte of wikked scole,
Whiles y am thy lordes Doughter by name;
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Me thinketh thou doost him mikel shame,
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Whan thou of loue besechest me,
And that y shulde thy lemman bee.
Ne fonde y neuere man that so moche mysseide,
Nor that so folisshe of loue me preide,
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Neither knyghte, Erle, ne baron;
Bot thou art bot a garson,
That art my man, and shuldest bee.
Euyll were my beaute besette on the,
Yf y a grome loued and toke,
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And so many faire knyghtis forsoke.
Erles, Dukes, of all the beste,
And of all the worlde the richeste
Ouere all men desired me a plighte,
Suche as on me neuere had sighte;
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Dispreised to moche y shuld bee
To leue all theim and take the!
All to grete hardiship thou thoughtest, [Caius MS. 107 page 14]
Whan thou of loue me besoughtest.
By my moder soule y the swere,
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And y to my fader this tyding bere,
To slee the or the vtterly fordoo,
(By the shull bee warned other moo)
Or with wilde hors all to-drawe,
For thy folie that were the lawe.
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. . . . .
. . . . .
Goo hense swithe! vp arise,
And come nomore here in this wise!'
