On þat lady, his loue, with langour & wo.
He kairet to þat comly with comfortable wordys,
And menyt hir in maner hir mournyng to voide;
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Yet sesit not hir sorow for solas of hym.
Ne noght glad of þat geste, but greatly anoyet,
Paris greuit at þat grete & gird out in yre;
Saide hir full soberly sittyng these wordes:—
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"What lyffe is þis, lady, to lede on þis wise?
Noght sesyng of sorow, & sobbyng vnfaire
On dayes to Endure, with drouping on nightes.
Who sothely might suffer þe sorow þat þou mase,
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With care & with complaint comynly ay:
Lamentacoun & langour the long night ouer?
Thus tourment with tene, & tides non end,
Ne hopis þou not it harmys, & thy hew chaunges;
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And enpaires thy person, & proffettes no more?"
THE WORDES BETWENE PARYS & ELAN AT TENYDON IN THE CASTELL.
In faithe the burde fell of falling of terys.—
"And þou drunkyn hade dewly as mony du sopis,
As shottes of shire water has shot fro þin ene,
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Thou faithfully were fillid vnto þi faire swyre.
Therfore, lady, & it like you, lighten your chere;
Comford you kyndly, kacches sum rest;
ffor in this riall Reme of my riche fader,
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Ne faute shall ye ffynde, ne your fre buernes. [folio 52b]
Tho truly þat are takon and temyn to you,
Shalbe plesit with plenty at þere playne wille,
And haue riches full ryfe: red ye non oþer.
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And ye sothely, your selfe, souerain of all,
Shalbe worshipped worthely & your wille haue,
And honouret of all men as your astate shuld;
To be gouernet in your grettenes, most godely of other,
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