mette hym at a brayde,
And I drewe nere to herke what they two sayde.
In faythe, quod Suspecte, spake Drede no worde of me?
Why, what than? wylte thou lete men to speke?
He sayth, he can not well accorde with thé.
Twyst,[273] quod Suspecte, goo playe, hym I ne reke.
By Cryste, quod Fauell, Drede is soleyne freke:
What lete vs holde him vp, man, for a whyle?
Ye soo, quod Suspecte, he maye vs bothe begyle.
And whan he came walkynge soberly, 190
Wyth whom and ha, and with a croked loke,
Me thoughte, his hede was full of gelousy,
His eyen rollynge, his hondes faste they quoke;
And to me warde the strayte waye he toke:
God spede, broder![274] to me quod he than;
And thus to talke with me he began.
SUSPYCYON.
Ye remembre the gentylman ryghte nowe
That commaunde[275] with you, me thought, a party space?[276]
Beware of him, for, I make God auowe,
He wyll begyle you and speke fayre to your face: 200
Ye neuer dwelte in suche an other place,
For here is none that dare well other truste;
But I wolde telle you a thynge, and I durste.
Spake he a fayth no worde to you of me?
I wote, and he dyde, ye wolde me telle.
I haue a fauoure to you, wherof it be
That I muste shewe you moche[277] of my counselle:
But I wonder what the deuyll of helle
He sayde of me, whan he with you dyde talke:
By myne auyse[278] vse not with him to walke. 210
The soueraynst thynge that ony[279] man maye haue,
Is lytyll to saye, and moche[280] to here and see;
For, but I trusted you, so God me saue,
I wolde noo thynge so playne be;
To you oonly, me thynke, I durste shryue me
For now am I plenarely dysposed
To shewe you thynges that may not be disclosed.
DREDE.
Than I assured hym my fydelyte,
His counseyle secrete neuer to dyscure,[281]
Yf he coude fynde in herte to truste me; 220
Els I prayed hym, with all my besy cure,
To kepe it hymselfe, for than he myghte be sure
That noo man[282] erthly coude hym bewreye,
Whyles of his mynde it were lockte with the keye.
By God, quod he, this and thus it is;
And of his mynde he shewed me all and some.
Farewell, quod he, we wyll talke more of this:
Soo he departed there he wolde be come.
I dare not speke, I promysed to be dome:
But, as I stode musynge in my mynde, 230
Haruy Hafter[283] came lepynge, lyghte as lynde.
Vpon his breste he bare a versynge boxe;
His throte was clere, and lustely coude fayne;
Me[284] thoughte, his gowne was all furred wyth foxe;
And euer he sange, Sythe I am no thynge playne.
To kepe him frome pykynge it was a grete payne:
He gased on me with his gotyshe berde;
Whan I loked on hym, my[285] purse was half aferde.
HARUY HAFTER.[286]
Syr, God you saue! why loke ye so sadde?
What thynge is that I maye do for you? 240
A wonder thynge that ye waxe not madde!
For, and I studye sholde as ye doo nowe,
My wytte wolde waste, I make God auowe.
Tell me your mynde: me thynke, ye make a verse;
I coude it skan,[287] and ye wolde it[288] reherse.
But to the poynte shortely to procede,
Where hathe your dwellynge ben, er ye cam here?
For, as I trowe, I haue sene you indede
Er this, whan that ye made me royall chere.
Holde vp the helme, loke vp, and lete God stere: 250
I wolde be mery, what wynde that euer blowe,
Heue and how rombelow, row the bote, Norman, rowe!
