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| This duk, of whom I make mencioun, When he was come almost unto the toun, In al his wele and in his moste pryde, He was war, as he caste his eye asyde, Wher that ther kneled in the hye weye A companye of ladies, tweye and tweye, Ech after other, clad in clothes blake; But swich a cry and swich a wo they make, That in this world nis creature livinge, That herde swich another weymentinge; And of this cry they nolde never stenten, Til they the reynes of his brydel henten. |
This duk, of whom I make mencioun, When he was come almost unto the toun, In al his wele and in his moste pryde, He was war, as he caste his eye asyde, Wher that ther kneled in the hye weye A companye of ladies, tweye and tweye, Ech after other, clad in clothes blake; But swich a cry and swich a wo they make, That in this world nis creature livinge, That herde swich another weymentinge; And of this cry they nolde never stenten, Til they the reynes of his brydel henten. |
| ‘What folk ben ye, that at myn hoom-cominge Perturben so my feste with cryinge?’ Quod Theseus, ‘have ye so greet envye Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crye? Or who hath yow misboden, or offended? And telleth me if it may been amended; And why that ye ben clothed thus in blak?’ |
‘What folk ben ye, that at myn hoom-cominge Perturben so my feste with cryinge?’ Quod Theseus, ‘have ye so greet envye Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crye? Or who hath yow misboden, or offended? And telleth me if it may been amended; And why that ye ben clothed thus in blak?’ |
| The eldest lady of hem alle spak, When she hadde swowned with a deedly chere, That it was routhe for to seen and here, And seyde: ‘Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven Victorie, and as a conquerour to liven, Noght greveth us your glorie and your honour; But we biseken mercy and socour. Have mercy on our wo and our distresse. Som drope of pitee, thurgh thy gentillesse, Upon us wrecched wommen lat thou falle. For certes, lord, ther nis noon of us alle, That she nath been a duchesse or a quene; Now be we caitifs, as it is wel sene: Thanked be Fortune, and hir false wheel, That noon estat assureth to be weel. And certes, lord, to abyden your presence, Here in the temple of the goddesse Clemence We han ben waytinge al this fourtenight; Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy might. |
The eldest lady of hem alle spak, When she hadde swowned with a deedly chere, That it was routhe for to seen and here, And seyde: ‘Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven Victorie, and as a conquerour to liven, Noght greveth us your glorie and your honour; But we biseken mercy and socour. Have mercy on our wo and our distresse. Som drope of pitee, thurgh thy gentillesse, Upon us wrecched wommen lat thou falle. For certes, lord, ther nis noon of us alle, That she nath been a duchesse or a quene; Now be we caitifs, as it is wel sene: Thanked be Fortune, and hir false wheel, That noon estat assureth to be weel. And certes, lord, to abyden your presence, Here in the temple of the goddesse Clemence We han ben waytinge al this fourtenight; Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy might. |
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