|
"Aurelie," quod she, "by heighe God above, |
| Yet wolde I graunte yow to been youre love, |
| Syn I yow se so pitously complayne. |
| Looke, what day that endelong Britayne |
| 285 | Ye remoeve alle the rokkes, stoon by stoon, |
| That they ne lette shipe ne boot to goon, - |
| I seye, whan ye han maad the coost so clene |
| Of rokkes that ther nys no stoon ysene, |
| Thanne wol I love yow best of any man, |
| 290 | Have heer my trouthe in al that evere I kan." |
| "Is ther noon oother grace in yow?" quod he. |
| "No, by that lord," quod she, "that maked me; |
| For wel I woot that it shal nevere bityde; |
| Lat swiche folies out of your herte slyde. |
| 295 | What deyntee sholde a man han in his lyf |
| For to go love another mannes wyf, |
| That hath hir body whan so that hym liketh?" |
|
| "Aurelius," said she, "by God above, |
| Yet would I well consent to be your love, |
| Since I hear you complain so piteously, |
| On that day when, from coasts of Brittany, |
| 285 | You've taken all the black rocks, stone by stone, |
| So that they hinder ship nor boat - I own, |
| I say, when you have made the coast so clean |
| Of rocks that there is no stone to be seen, |
| Then will I love you best of any man; |
| 290 | Take here my promise - all that ever I can." |
| "Is there no other grace in you?" asked he. |
| "No, by that Lord," said she, "Who has made me! |
| For well I know that it shall ne'er betide. |
| Let suchlike follies out of your heart slide. |
| 295 | What pleasure can a man have in his life |
| Who would go love another man's own wife, |
| That has her body when he wishes it?" |
|
