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And to hire speche his Ere he leide

And hath merveile of that sche seide. 1680

For in proverbe and in probleme

Sche spak, and bad he scholde deme

In many soubtil question:

Bot he for no suggestioun

Which toward him sche couthe stere,

He wolde noght o word ansuere,

Bot as a madd man ate laste

His heved wepende awey he caste,

And half in wraththe he bad hire go.

Bot yit sche wolde noght do so, 1690

And in the derke forth sche goth,

Til sche him toucheth, and he wroth,

And after hire with his hond

He smot: and thus whan sche him fond

Desesed, courtaisly sche saide,

"Avoi, mi lord, I am a Maide;

And if ye wiste what I am,

And out of what lignage I cam,

Ye wolde noght be so salvage."

With that he sobreth his corage 1700

And put awey his hevy chiere.

Bot of hem tuo a man mai liere

What is to be so sibb of blod:

Non wiste of other hou it stod,

And yit the fader ate laste

His herte upon this maide caste,

That he hire loveth kindely,

And yit he wiste nevere why.

Bot al was knowe er that thei wente;

For god, which wot here hol entente, 1710

Here hertes bothe anon descloseth.

This king unto this maide opposeth,

And axeth ferst what was hire name,

And wher sche lerned al this game,

And of what ken that sche was come.

And sche, that hath hise wordes nome,

Ansuerth and seith, "My name is Thaise,

That was som time wel at aise:

In Tharse I was forthdrawe and fed,

Ther lerned I, til I was sped, 1720

Of that I can. Mi fader eke

I not wher that I scholde him seke;

He was a king, men tolde me:

Mi Moder dreint was in the See."

Fro point to point al sche him tolde,

That sche hath longe in herte holde,

And nevere dorste make hir mone

Bot only to this lord al one,

To whom hire herte can noght hele,

Torne it to wo, torne it to wele, 1730

Torne it to good, torne it to harm.

And he tho toke hire in his arm,

Bot such a joie as he tho made

Was nevere sen; thus be thei glade,

That sory hadden be toforn.

Fro this day forth fortune hath sworn

To sette him upward on the whiel;

So goth the world, now wo, now wel:

This king hath founde newe grace,

So that out of his derke place 1740

He goth him up into the liht,

And with him cam that swete wiht,

His doghter Thaise, and forth anon

Thei bothe into the Caban gon

Which was ordeigned for the king,

And ther he dede of al his thing,

And was arraied realy.

And out he cam al openly,

Wher Athenagoras he fond,

The which was lord of al the lond: 1750

He preith the king to come and se

His castell bothe and his cite,

And thus thei gon forth alle in fiere,

This king, this lord, this maiden diere.

This lord tho made hem riche feste

With every thing which was honeste,

To plese with this worthi king,

Ther lacketh him no maner thing:

Bot yit for al his noble array

Wifles he was into that day, 1760

As he that yit was of yong Age;

So fell ther into his corage

The lusti wo, the glade peine

Of love, which noman restreigne

Yit nevere myhte as nou tofore.

This lord thenkth al his world forlore,

Bot if the king wol don him grace;

He waiteth time, he waiteth place,

Him thoghte his herte wol tobreke,

Til he mai to this maide speke 1770

And to hir fader ek also

For mariage: and it fell so,

That al was do riht as he thoghte,

His pourpos to an ende he broghte,

Sche weddeth him as for hire lord;

Thus be thei alle of on acord.

Whan al was do riht as thei wolde,

The king unto his Sone tolde

Of Tharse thilke traiterie,

And seide hou in his compaignie 1780

His doghter and himselven eke

Schull go vengance forto seke.

The Schipes were redy sone,

And whan thei sihe it was to done,

Withoute lette of eny wente

With Seil updrawe forth thei wente

Towardes Tharse upon the tyde.

Bot he that wot what schal betide,

The hihe god, which wolde him kepe,

Whan that this king was faste aslepe, 1790

Be nyhtes time he hath him bede

To seile into an other stede:

To Ephesim he bad him drawe,

And as it was that time lawe,

He schal do there his sacrifise;

And ek he bad in alle wise

That in the temple amonges alle

His fortune, as it is befalle,