Ye wote well, that the beast is in a place
That is not derke, and hath roume and eke space
To welde an axe, or swerde, staffe, or knife,
So that me thinketh he should save his life,
If that he be a man, he shall do so:
And we shall make him balles eke also
Of wexe and towe, that whan he gapeth fast,
Into the beestes throte he shall hem cast,
To sleke his honger, and encomber his teeth,
And right anon whan that Theseus seeth
The beest acheked, he shall on him leepe
To sleen him, or they comen more to keepe:
This weapen shal the gailer, or that tide,
Full prively within the prison hide:
And for the house is crencled to and fro,
And hath so queint waies for to go,
For it is shapen as the mase is wrought,
Thereto have I a remedy in my thought,
That by a clewe of twine, as he hath gon,
The same way he may returne anon,
Folowing alway the threde, as he hath come,
And whan this beest is overcome,
Than may he flien away out of this stede,
And eke the gailer may he with him lede,
And him avaunce at home in his countre,
Sens that so great a lords sonne is he."

This is my rede, if that ye dare it take.
What shold I lenger sermon of it make,
The gailer cometh, and with him Theseus,
Whan these things ben accorded thus.

Downe sate Theseus vpon his knee,
"The right lady of my life," (quod he)
"I sorowfull man, ydamned to the deth :
Fro you, whiles that me lasteth breth,
I wol nat twinne, after this aventure,
But in your service, thus I woll endure,
That as a wretch vnknow, I woll you serve
For evermore, till that mine herte sterve,
Forsake I woll at home mine heritage,
And as I said, ben of your court a page,
If that ye vouchsafe that in this place,
Ye graunt me to have soche a grace,

That I may have nat but my meate and drinke,
And for my sustinaunce yet woll I swinke,
Right as you list, that Minos ne no wight,
Sens that he saw me never with eyen sight,
Ne no man else shall me espie,

So slily, and so well I shal me grie,
And me so wel diffigure, and so low,

That in this world there shall no man me know,
To have my life, and to have presence
Of
you, that done to me this excellence,
And to my father shall I sende here,
This worthy man, that is your gaylere,
And him so guerdon, that he shall well be
One of the greatest men of my countre,
And if I durst saine, my lady bright,
I am a kings soune and eke a knight
As wold God, if that it might be,
Ye weren in my countrey all thre,
And I with you, to beare you companie,
Than shuld ye sene if that I thereof lie,
And if that I profer you in lowe manere,
To ben your page, and serven you right here,
But I you serve as lowly in that place,
I pray to Mars to yeve me soch grace,
That shames death on me there mote fall,
And death and poverte to my frends all,
And that my sprite by night mote go,
After my death, and walke to and fro,

That I mote of traitour have a name,
For which my sprit mote go, to do me shame,
And if I clayme ever other degree,
But ye vouchsafe to yeve it mee,

As I have said, of shames death I dey,
And mercy, lady, I can naught else sey."

A semely knight was this Theseus to see,
And yonge, but of twenty yere and three,
But who so had ysene his countenance,
He wold have wept, for routh of his penance:
For which this Ariadne in this manere,
Answerde to his profre and to his chere.

"A kings sonne, and eke a knight,” (quod she) "To ben my servaunt in so lowe degree, God shilde it, for the shame of women all, And lene me never soch a case befall, And sende you grace, and sleight of herte also You to defend, and knightly to sleen your foe, And lene hereafter I may you find

To me, and to my suster here so kind,
That I ne repent nat to yeve you life,
Yet were it better I were your wife,
Sith ye ben as gentill borne as I,
And have a realme nat but fast by,
Than that I suffred your gentillesse to sterve,
Or that I let you as a page serve,

It is no profite, as vnto your kinrede,

But what is that, that man woll nat do for dred,
And to my suster sith that it is so,

That she mote gone with me, if that I go,
Or els suffre death as wel as I,

That ye vnto your sonne as trewly,

Done her be wedded, at your home coming,
This is the finall end of all this thing,

Ye swere it here, vpon all that may be sworne?"
"Ye lady mine," (quod he)" or els to torne
Mote I be with the Minotaure or to morrow,
And haveth here of mine herte blood to borow,
If that ye woll, if I had knife or speare,
I would it letten out, and thereon sweare,
For than at erste, I wot ye would me leve,
By Mars, that is chiefe of my beleve,
So that I might liven, and nat faile
To morow for to taken my bataile,
I nolde never fro this place flie,
Till that ye should the very profe se,
For now, if that the soth I shall you say,
I have loved you full many a day,
Though ye ne wist nat, in my countre,
And aldermost desired you to see,
Of any earthly living creature,
Upon my truth I sweare and you assure,
This seven yere I have your servaunt be,
Now have I you, and also have ye me,
My dere herte, of Athenes duchesse."

This lady smileth at his stedfastnesse,
And at his hertely wordes, and at his chere,
And to her suster said in this manere:

"And sothly suster mine," (quod she)
"Now be we duchesses both I and ye,
And sikerde to the regals of Athenes,
And both hereafter likely to be queenes,
And saved fro his death a kings sonne,
As ever of gentill women is the wonne,
To save a gentil man, enforth hir might,
In honest cause, and namely in his right,
Me thinketh no wight ought vs herof blame,
Ne bearen vs therefore an yvel name,"
And shortly of this mater for to make,
This Theseus of her hath leave ytake,

And every point was performed in dede,

As ye have in this covenaunt herde me rede,
His wepen, his clewe, his thing that I have said,
Was by the gailer in the house ylaid,
There as the Minotaure hath his dwelling,
Right fast by the dore, at his entring,
And Theseus is lad vnto his dethe,
And forth vnto this Minotaure he gethe,
And by the teaching of this Adriane,

He overcame this beest, and was his bane,
And out he cometh by the clewe againe
Ful prively, whan he this beest hath slaine,
And the gailer gotten hath a barge,
And of his wives treasure gan it charge,
And toke his wife, and eke her suster free,
And by the gailer, and with hem al three
Is stole away out of the lond by night,
And to the countre of Enupie him dight,
There as he had a frende of his knowing,

There feesten they, there daunsen they and sing,
And in his armes hath this Adriane,

That of the beest hath kept him fro his bane,
And get him there a noble barge anone,
And of his countrey folke a ful great wone,

And taketh his leave, and homeward saileth hee,
And in an yle, amidde the wilde see,
There as there dwelt creature noue,
Save wild beestes, and that full many one,
He made his shippe a londe for to sette,
And in that yle halfe a day he lette,

And said, that on the londe he must him rest.
His mariners have done right as him lest,
And for to tell shortly in this caas,
Whan Ariadne his wife a slepe was,
For that her suster fayrer was than she,

He taketh her in his honde, and forth goeth he
To ship, and as a traitour stale away,
While that this Ariadne a slepe lay,
And to his countrey warde he sailed blive,
A twenty divel way, the winde him drive,
And found his father drenched in the see.
Me liste no more to speke of him parde,
These false lovers, poison be hir bane.

But I wol turne againe to Adriane,
That is with slepe for werinesse ytake,
Ful sorowfully her herte may awake.

Alas, for thee mine herte hath pite,
Right in the dawning awaketh she,

And gropeth in the bed, and fond right nought:
"Alas," (quod she)" that ever I was wrought,
I am betrayed," and her heere to rent,
And to the stronde barefote fast she went,
And cried: "Theseus mine herte swete,
Where be ye, that I may nat with you mete?
And might thus with beestes ben yslaine."

The halow rockes answerde her againe,
No man she saw, and yet shone the Moone,
And hie vpon a rocke she went soone,
And sawe his barge sayling in the see,
Cold woxe her herte, and right thus said she:
"Meker then ye find I the beestes wilde."
Hath he nat sinne, that he her thus begilde?
She cried, "O turne againe for routhe and sinne,
Thy barge hath nat all his meine in,"
Her kerchefe on a pole sticked she,
Ascaunce he should it well yse,

And him remembre that she was behind.

And turne againe, and on the stronde her find.
But all for naught, his way he is gone,
And downe she fel a swowne on a stone,

And up she riste, and kissed in all her care
The steppes of his feete, there he hath fare,
And to her bed right thus she speketh tho:
"Thou bed," (quod she) "that hast received two,
Thou shalt answere of two, and not of one,
Where is the greater parte, away gone?

"Alas, wher shal I wretched wight b come?
For though so be that bote none here come,
Home to my countrey dare I nat for drede,
I can my selfe in this case nat rede."

What should I tell more her complaining,
It is so long, it were an heavy thing?
In her epistle, Naso telleth all,
But shortly to the end tell I shall,
The goddes have her holpen for pite,
And in the signe of Taurus men may see,
The stones of her crowne shine clere,
I will no more speake of this matere,
But thus this false lover can begile
His trew love, the divel quite him his wile.

THE

LEGEND OF PHILOMENE.

THOU yever of the formes, that hast wrought
The fayre world, and bare it in thy thought
Eternally, er thou thy werke began,
Why madest thou vnto the slaunder of man,
Or all be that it was not thy doing,
As for that end to make soch a thing,
Why suffredest thou that Tereus was bore,
That is in love so false and so forswore,
That fro this world vp to the first Heven,
Corrumpeth, whan that folke his name neven?
And as to me, so grisly was his dede,
That whan that I this foule storie rede,
Mine iyen wexen foule, and sore also,
Yet lasteth the venime of so longe ago,
That enfecteth him that wolde behold
The storie of Tereus, of which I told,
Of Trace was he lord, and kin to Marte
The cruel god that stante with blody darte,
And wedded had he with blisfull chere
King Pandionis faire doughter dere,
That hight Progne, floure of her countre,
Though Juno list not at the feast be,
Ne Himeneus, that god of wedding is,
But at the feast ready ben iwis,

The furies three, with all hir mortall bronde,
The oule all night above the balkes wonde,
That prophete is of wo, and of mischaunce.
This revell, full of song, and full of daunce,
Last a fourtenight, or little lasse,
But shortly of this storie for to passe,
(For I am weary of him for to tell)
Five yere his wife and he togither dwell,
Till on a day she gan so sore long
To seene her suster, that she saw not long,
That for desire she nist what to say,
But to her husbond gan she for to pray
For Gods love, that she mote ones gone
Her suster for to seene, and come ayen anone,
Or else but she mote to her wend,
She praied him that he would after her send:
And this was day by day all her prayere,
With al humblesse of wifehood, word and chere.

This Tereus let make his ships yare,
And into Grece himselfe is forth ifare,
Unto his father in law gan he pray,
To vouchsafe, that for a moneth or tway,
That Philomene his wives suster might
On Progne his wife but ones have a sight,
"And she shall come to you again anon
My selfe with her, I will both come and gon,
And as my hertes life I will her kepe."

This old Pandion, this king gan wepe
For tendernesse of herte, for to leve

His doughter gon, and for to yeve her leve,
Of all this world he loved nothing so,
But at the last, leave hath she to go,
For Philomene with salt teares eke
Gan of her father grace to beseke,
To seene her suster, that her longeth so,
And him enbraceth, with her armes two,
And there also yong and faire was she,
That whan that Tereus saw her beaute,
And of array, that there was none her liche,
And yet of beautie was she to so riche,
He cast his fierie herte vpon her so,
That he woll have her, how so that it go,
And with his wiles kneled, and so praied,
Till at the last Pandion thus saied.

"Now sonne," (quod he)" that art to me so dere,

I thee betake my yong doughter dere,
That beareth the key of all mine hertes life,
And grete well my doughter, and thy wife,
And yeve her leave sometime for to pley,
That she may seen me ones or I deie."
And sothly he hath made him riche feast,
And to his folke, the most and eke the least,
That with him came: and yave him yefts great,
And him conveieth through the master streat
Of Athenes, and to the sea him brought,
And tourneth home, no malice he ne thought.
The ores pulleth forth the vessell fast,
And into Trace arriveth at the last,
And vp in to a forest he her led,
And to a cave prively he him sped,
And in this darke cave, if her lest
Or list nought, he had her for to rest,
Of which her herte agrose, and saied thus:
"Where is my suster, brother Tereus ?"
And therewithall she wept tenderly,
And quoke for feare, pale and pitiously,
Right as the lambe, that of the wolfe is bitten,
Or as the culver, that of the egle is smitten,
And is out of his clawes forth escaped,

Yet it is aferde, and a waped,

Lest it be hent eftsones: so sate she,
But vtterly it may none other be,

By force hath this traitour done a deede,
That he hath reft her of her maidenhede,
Maugre her head, by strength and by his might.
Lo here a deede of men, and that aright.
She crieth" Suster," with full loude steven,
And "Father dere, helpe me God in Heven:"
All helpeth not, and yet this false thefe,
Hath done this lady yet a more mischefe,
For feare lest she should his shame crie,
And done him openly a villanie,

And with his sweard her tong of kerfe he,
And in a castell made her for to be,
Full prively in prison evermore,

And kept her to her vsage and to his store,

So that she ne might never more astarte.
O sely Philomene, wo is in thine herte,
Huge been thy sorowes, and wonder smart,
God wreke thee, and sende thee thy bone,
Now is time I make an end sone,

This Tereus is to his wife icome,
And in his armes hath his wife inome,
And pitiously he wept, and shoke his hedde,
And swore her, that he found her suster dedde,
For which this selie Progne hath soch wo,
That nigh her sorowfull herte brake a two.
And thus in teares let I Progne dwell,
And of her suster forth I woll you tell.

This wofull lady ilearned had in youth,
So that she worken and enbrauden couth,
And weaven in stole the rade vore,
As it of women hath be woved yore,
And sothly for to saine, she hath her fill
Of meate and drinke, of clothing at her will,
And couthe eke rede well inough and endite,
But with a penne she could not write,
But letters can she weave to and fro,
So that by the yere was all ago,
She had woven in a flames large,
How she was brought fro Athens in a barge,
And in a cave how that she was brought,
And all the thing that Tereus wrought,
She wave it wel, and wrote the storie above,
How she was served for her susters love.
And to a man a ring she yave anon,
And praied him by signes for to gon
Unto the queene, and bearen her that clothe,
And by signe swore many an othe,
She should him yeve what she getten might.

This man anon vnto the quene him dight,
And toke it her, and all the maner told,
And whan that Progne hath this thing behold,
No worde she spake, for sorow and eke for rage,
But fained her to gon on pilgrimage
To Baccus temple, and in a little stound
Her dombe suster sitting hath she found
Weeping in the castell her selfe alone,
Alas the wo, constraint, and the mone
That Progne vpon her dombe suster maketh,
In armes everich of hem other taketh,
And thus I let hem in hir sorow dwell,
The remnaunt is no charge to tell,
For this is all and some, thus was she served
That never agilt, ne deserved

Unto this cruell man, that she of wist.
Ye may beware of men if that you list,
For all be that he woll not for shame
Doen as Tereus, to lese his name,
Ne serve you as a murtherer or a knave,
Full little while shull ye trew him have,
That wol I sain, al were he now my brother,
But it so be that he may have another.

THE

LEGENDE OF PHILLIS.

By prove, as well as by aucthorite,
That wicked fruicte commeth of a wicked tree,
That may ye find, if that it liketh you,
But for this end, I speake this as now,

To tell you of false Demophon,
In love a falser heard I never non,
But it were his father Theseus,

God for his grace fro soch one kepe vs,
Thus these women praien, that it here,
Now to the effect tourne I of my matere.
Destroied is of Troie the citee,
This Demophon came sayling in the see
Toward Athenes, to his paleis large,

With him came many a ship, and many a barge
Full of folke, of which full many one

Is wounded sore, and sicke, and wo begone,
And they have at the seige long ilaine,
Behind him came a winde, and eke a raine,
That shofe so sore, his saile might not stonde,
Him were lever than all the world a londe,
So hunted him the tempest to and fro,
So darke it was, he could no where go,
And with a wave brusten was his stere,
His ship was rent so lowe, in such manere,
That carpenter could it not amende,
The see by night as any torche brende,
For wood, and posseth him vp and doun,
Till Neptune hath of him compassioun,
And Thetis, Chorus, Triton, and they all,
And maden him vp a londe to fall,
Wherof that Phillis lady was and queene,
Lycurgus doughter, fairer vnto seene
Than is the floure again the bright Sonne,
Unneth is Demophon to londe iwonne,
Weake and eke werie, and his folke forpined
Of werinesse, and also enfamined,
And to the death he was almost idriven,
His wise folke consaile have him yeven,
To seken helpe and succour of the queene,
And loken what his grace might bene,
And maken in that lande some chevesaunce,
And kepen him fro wo, and fro mischaunce,
For sicke he was, and almost at the death,
Unneth might be speake, or draw breath,
And lieth in Rhodopeia him for to rest,
Whan he may walk, him thought it was best
Unto the countrey to seeken for succour,
Men knew him wele, and did him honour,
For at Athenes duke and lord was he,

As Theseus his father hath ibe,
That in his time was great of renoun,

No man so great in all his regioun,

And like his father of face and of stature,

And false of love, it came him of nature,
As doth the foxe Renarde, the foxes sonne,
Of kind he could his old father wonne
Without lore, as can a drake swimme
Whan it is caught, and carried to the brimme:
This honorable queen Phillis doth him chere,
Her liketh well his sporte and his manere,
But I am agroted here beforne,

To write of hem that in love been forsworne,
And eke to haste me in my legende,
Which to performe, God me grace sende,
Therfore I passe shortly in this wise,
Ye have well heard of Theseus the gise,
In the betraiyng of faire Adriane,
That of her pite kept him fro his bane,
At short wordes, right so Demophon,

The same way, and the same pathe hath gon
That did his false father Theseus,

For vnto Phillis hath he sworne thus,

To wedden her, and her his trouth plight,
And piked of her all the good he might,

Whan he was hole and sound, and had his rest,
And doth with Phillis what so that him lest,
As well I could, if that me list so,
Tellen all his doing to and fro.

He sayd to his countrey mote him saile,
For there he would her wedding apparaile,
As fill to her honour, and his also,
And openly he tooke his leave tho,
And to her swore he would not sojourne,
But in a month again he would retourne,
And in that londe let make his ordinaunce,
As very lorde, and tooke the obeisaunce,
Well and humbly, and his shippes dight,
And home he goeth the next way he might,
For vnto Phillis yet came he nought,
And that hath she so harde and sore ibought,
Alas, as the storie doth us record,

She was her owne death with a corde,
Whan that she saw that Demophon her traied.
But first wrote she to him, and fast him praied
He would come, and deliver her of pain,
As I rehearse shall a worde or twain,
Me liste not vouchsafe on him to swinke,
Dispenden on him a penne full of ynke,
For false in love was he, right as his sire,
The Devill set hir soules both on a fire,
But of the letter of Phillis woll I write,
A worde or twain, although it be but lite.
"Thine hostesse" (quod she) "O Demophon,
Thy Phillis, which that is so wo begon,
Of Rhodopeie, vpon you mote complain,
Over the terme set betwixt vs twain,
That ye ne holden forward, as ye sayd:
Your ancre, which ye in our haven layd,
Hight vs, that ye would comen out of doubt,
Or that the Moone ones went about,
But times fower, the Moone hath hid her face
Sens thilke day ye went fro this place,
And fower times light the world again,
But for all that, yet shall I sothly sain,
Yet hath the streme of Scython not brought
From Athenes the ship, yet came it nought,
And if that ye the terme reken would,
As I or other true lovers doe should,
I plain not (God wot) before my day."
But al her letter writen I ne may,
By order, for it were to me a charge,
Her letter was right long, and therto large,
But here and there, in rime I have it layd
There as me thought that she hath wel sayd.

She sayd, "The sailes commeth not again,
Ne to the word there nis no fey certain,
But I wot why ye come not" (quod she)
"For I was of my love to you so fre,
And of the goddes that ye have swore,
That hir vengeaunce fall on you therfore,
Ye be not suffisaunt to beare the pain,
To moche trusted I, well may I sain,
Upon your linage, and your faire tong,
And on your teares falsely out wrong,
How coud ye wepe so by craft?" (quod she)
May there soche teares fained be?

"Now certes if ye would have in memory, It ought be to you but little glory,

To have a selie maide thus betrayed,

To God" (quod she) "pray I, and oft have prayed,
That it be now the greatest price of all,
And most honour that ever you shall befall,
And whan thine old aunceters painted bee,

In which men may hir worthinesse see,

Than pray I God, thou painted be also,
That folke may reden, forth by as they go.
"Lo this is he, that with his flattery
Betraied hath, and done her villany,
That was his true love, in thought and drede.
"But sothly of o point yet may they rede,
That ye been like your father, as in this,
For he begiled Ariadne iwis,
With such an arte, and such subtelte,
As thou thy selves hast begiled me:

As in that poinct, although it be not feire,
Thou folowest certain, and art his heire.
But sens thus sinfully ye me begile,
My body mote ye sene, within a while
Right in the haven of Athenes fleeting,
Withouten sepulture and buriyng,
Though ye been harder than is any stone."

And whan this letter was forth sent anone,
And knew how brotell and how fals he was,
She for dispaire fordid her selfe, alas,
Such sorow hath she, for she beset her so.
Beware ye women of your subtill fo,
Sens yet this day men may ensample se,
And trusteth now in love no man but me.

THE

LEGENDE OF HYPERMESTRE.

IN Grecen whilom were brethren two
Of which that one was called Danao,
That many a son hath of his body wonne,
As such false lovers ofte conne.

Emong his sonnes all there was one,
That aldermost he loved of everychone,
And whan this child was borne, this Danao
Shope him a name, and called him Lino,
That other brother called was Egiste,
That was of love as false as ever him liste,
And many a daughter gate he in his life,
Of which he gate upon his right wife,
A doughter dere, and did her for to call,
Hypermestra, yongest of hem all,
The which child of her nativite,
To all good thewes borne was she,
As liked to the goddes or she was borne,
That of the shefe she should be the corne,
The werdes that we clepen destine,
Hath shapen her, that she must needes be
Pitous, sad, wise, true as stele,

And to this woman it accordeth wele,

For though that Uenus yave her great beaute,
With Jupiter compowned so was she,
That conscience, trouth, and drede of shame,
And of her wifehode for to kepe her name,
This thought her was felicite as here,
And reed Mars, was that time of the yere
So feble, that his malice is him raft,
Repressed hath Uenus his cruell craft,
And what with Uenus, and other oppression
Of houses, Mars his venime is a don,
That Hypermestre dare not handle a knife,
In malice, though she should lese her life,
But nathelesse, as Heaven gan tho turne,
Two bad aspectes hath she of Saturne,
That made her to die in prison,
And I shall after make mencion,

Of Danao and Egistes also,

And though so be that they were brethren two,
For thilke tyme nas spared no linage,

It liked hem to maken mariage
Betwixt Hypermestre, and him Lino,
And casten soch a day it shall be so,
And full accorded was it vtterly,

The aray is wrought, the time is fast by,
And thus Lino hath of his fathers brother,
The doughter wedded, and ech of hem hath other,
The torches brennen, and the lamps bright
The sacrifice been full ready dight,
Thensence out of the fire reketh soote,
The floure, the leefe, is rent vp by the roote,
To maken garlandes and crounes hie,
Full is the place of sound of minstralcie,
Of songes amourous of mariage,

As thilke tyme was the plain vsage,
And this was in the paleis of Egiste,
That in his hous was lord, right as him liste,
And thus that day they driven to an end,
The frendes taken leve, and home they wend,
The night is come, the bride shall go to bed,
Egiste to his chamber fast him sped,
And prively let his doughter call,
Whan that the house voided was of hem all,
He looked on his doughter with glad chere,
And to her spake, as ye shall after here.

66

My right doughter, tresour of mine herte, Sens first that day, that shapen was my shert, Or by the fatall suster had my dome, So nie mine herte never thing ne come, As thou Hapermestre, doughter dere, Take hede what thy father sayth thee here, And werke after thy wiser ever mo, For alderfirst doughter I love thee so, That all the world to me nis halfe so lefe, Ne nolde rede thee to thy mischefe, For all the good vnder the cold Mone, And what I meane, it shall be said right sone, With protestacion, as sain these wise, That but thou doe, as I shall thee devise, Thou shalt ba ded, by him that all hath wrought, At short wordes thou ne scapest nought Out of my paleis, or that thou be deed, But thou consent, and werke after my reed, Take this to the fearfull conclusioun." This Hypermestre cast her iyen doun, And quoke as doth the leefe of ashe grene, Deed wext her hew, and like ashen to sene, And sayd: "Lord and father all your will, After my might, God wote I will fulfill, So it be to me no confusion."

"I nill" (quod he) "have none excepcion," And out he caught a knife, as rasour kene, "Hide this" (quod he)" that it be not isene, And whan thine husbond is to bed go, While that he slepeth cut his throte atwo, For in my dreme it is warned me, How that my nevewe shall my bane be, But which I not, wherfore I woll be siker, If thou say nay, we two shall have a biker, As I have sayd, by him that I have sworn." This Hipermestre hath nigh her wit forlorn, And for to passen harmelesse out of that place, She graunted him, there was none other grace: And withall a costrell taketh he tho And sayd, "Hereof a draught or two, Yeve him drinke, whan he goeth to rest, And he shal slepe as long as ever thee lest,