a maner of ferdnesse crepeth in his herte, not for harme, but of
10
goodly subjeccion; namely, as men reden that aungels ben aferde
of our saviour in heven. And pardè, there ne is, ne may no
passion of disese be; but it is to mene, that angels ben adradde,
not by †ferdnes of drede, sithen they ben perfitly blissed, [but]
as [by] affeccion of wonderfulnesse and by service of obedience.
15
Suche ferde also han these lovers in presence of their loves, and
subjectes aforn their soveraynes. Right so with ferdnesse myn
herte was caught. And I sodainly astonied, there entred in-to
the place there I was logged a lady, the semeliest and most
goodly to my sight that ever to-forn apered to any creature; and
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trewly, in the blustringe of her looke, she yave gladnesse and
comfort sodaynly to al my wittes; and right so she doth to
every wight that cometh in her presence. And for she was so
goodly, as me thought, myn herte began somdele to be enbolded,
and wexte a litel hardy to speke; but yet, with a quakinge
25
voyce, as I durste, I salued her, and enquired what she was;
and why she, so worthy to sight, dayned to entre in-to so foule
a dongeon, and namely a prison, without leve of my kepers.
For certes, al-though the vertue of dedes of mercy strecchen to
visiten the poore prisoners, and hem, after that facultees ben had,
30
to comforte, me semed that I was so fer fallen in-to miserye and
wrecched hid caytifnesse, that me shulde no precious thing
neighe; and also, that for my sorowe every wight shulde ben
hevy, and wisshe my recovery. But whan this lady had somdele
apperceyved, as wel by my wordes as by my chere, what thought
35
besied me within, with a good womanly countenance she sayde
these wordes:—
'O my nory, wenest thou that my maner be, to foryete my
frendes or my servauntes? Nay,' quod she, 'it is my ful entente
to visyte and comforte al my frendshippes and allyes, as wel in
40
tyme of perturbacion as of moost propertee of blisse; in me shal
unkyndnesse never be founden: and also, sithen I have so fewe
especial trewe now in these dayes. Wherefore I may wel at more
leysar come to hem that me deserven; and if my cominge may
in any thinge avayle, wete wel, I wol come often.'
45
'Now, good lady,' quod I, 'that art so fayre on to loke,
reyninge hony by thy wordes, blisse of paradys arn thy lokinges,
joye and comfort are thy movinges. What is thy name? How
is it that in you is so mokel werkinge vertues enpight, as me
semeth, and in none other creature that ever saw I with myne
50
eyen?'
'My disciple,' quod she, 'me wondreth of thy wordes and on
thee, that for a litel disese hast foryeten my name. Wost thou
not wel that I am Love, that first thee brought to thy service?'
'O good lady,' quod I, 'is this worship to thee or to thyn
55
excellence, for to come in-to so foule a place? Pardè, somtyme,
tho I was in prosperitè and with forayne goodes envolved, I had
mokil to done to drawe thee to myn hostel; and yet many
werninges thou madest er thou liste fully to graunte, thyn home
to make at my dwelling-place; and now thou comest goodly by
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thyn owne vyse, to comforte me with wordes; and so there-thorough
I ginne remembre on passed gladnesse. Trewly, lady,
I ne wot whether I shal say welcome or non, sithen thy coming
wol as moche do me tene and sorowe, as gladnesse and mirthe.
See why: for that me comforteth to thinke on passed gladnesse,
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that me anoyeth efte to be in doinge. Thus thy cominge bothe
gladdeth and teneth, and that is cause of moche sorowe. Lo, lady,
how than I am comforted by your comminge'; and with that
I gan in teeres to distille, and tenderly wepe.
'Now, certes,' quod Love, 'I see wel, and that me over-thinketh,
70
that wit in thee fayleth, and [thou] art in pointe
to dote.'
'Trewly,' quod I, 'that have ye maked, and that ever wol
I rue.'
'Wottest thou not wel,' quod she, 'that every shepherde ought
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by reson to seke his sperkelande sheep, that arn ronne in-to
wildernesse among busshes and perils, and hem to their pasture
ayen-bringe,
