| 720 |
This fresshe May hath streight hir wey yholde, |
| With alle hir wommen, unto Damyan. |
| Doun by his beddes syde sit she than, |
| Confortynge hym as goodly as she may. |
| This Damyan, whan that his tyme he say, |
| 725 | In secree wise his purs and eek his bille, |
| In which that he ywriten hadde his wille, |
| Hath put into hire hand, withouten moore, |
| Save that he siketh wonder depe and soore |
| And softely to hire right thus seyde he: |
| 730 | "Mercy! and that ye nat discovere me, |
| For I am deed if that this thyng be kyd." |
| This purs hath she inwith hir bosom hyd, |
| And wente hire wey; ye gete namoore of me. |
| But unto Januarie ycomen is she, |
| 735 | That on his beddes syde sit ful softe. |
| He taketh hire, and kisseth hire ful ofte, |
| And leyde hym doun to slepe, and that anon. |
| She feyned hire as that she moste gon |
| Ther as ye woot that every wight moot neede; |
| 740 | And whan she of this bille hath taken heede, |
| She rente it al to cloutes atte laste, |
| And in the pryvee softely it caste. |
|
| 720 | This lovely May then did her straight way hold, |
| With all her women, unto Damian. |
| Down by his bed she sat, and so began |
| To comfort him with kindly word and glance. |
| This Damian, when once he'd found his chance, |
| 725 | In secret wise his purse and letter, too, |
| Wherein he'd said what he aspired to, |
| He put into her hand, with nothing more, |
| Save that he heaved a sigh both deep and sore, |
| And softly to her in this wise said he: |
| 730 | "Oh, mercy! Don't, I beg you, tell on me; |
| For I'm but dead if this thing be made known." |
| This purse she hid in bosom of her gown |
| And went her way; you get no more of me. |
| But unto January then came she, |
| 735 | Who on his bedside sat in mood full soft. |
| He took her in his arms and kissed her oft, |
| And laid him down to sleep, and that anon. |
| And she pretended that she must be gone |
| Where you know well that everyone has need. |
| 740 | And when she of this note had taken heed, |
| She tore it all to fragments at the last |
| And down the privy quietly it cast. |
|
