|
And yet of oure apprentice Janekyn, |
| 310 | For his crispe heer, shynynge as gold so fyn, |
| And for he squiereth me bothe up and doun, |
| Yet hastow caught a fals suspecioun. |
| I wol hym noght, thogh thou were deed tomorwe! |
| But tel me this, why hydestow, with sorwe, |
| 315 | The keyes of my cheste awey fro me? |
| It is my good as wel as thyn, pardee; |
| What, wenestow make an ydiot of oure dame? |
| Now by that lord that called is Seint Jame, |
| Thou shalt nat bothe, thogh that thou were wood, |
| 320 | Be maister of my body and of my good; |
| That oon thou shalt forgo, maugree thyne eyen. |
| What nedeth thee of me to enquere or spyen? |
| I trowe thou woldest loke me in thy chiste. |
| Thou sholdest seye, "Wyf, go wher thee liste, |
| 325 | Taak youre disport, I wol not leve no talys, |
| I knowe yow for a trewe wyf, dame Alys." |
| We love no man that taketh kepe or charge |
| Wher that we goon, we wol ben at our large. |
|
| And yet of our apprentice, young Jenkin, |
| 310 | For his crisp hair, showing like gold so fine, |
| Because he squires me walking up and down, |
| A false suspicion in your mind is sown; |
| I'd give him naught, though you were dead tomorrow. |
| But tell me this, why do you hide, with sorrow, |
| 315 | The keys to your strong-box away from me? |
| It is my gold as well as yours, pardie. |
| Why would you make an idiot of your dame? |
| Now by Saint James, but you shall miss your aim, |
| You shall not be, although like mad you scold, |
| 320 | Master of both my body and my gold; |
| One you'll forgo in spite of both your eyes; |
| Why need you seek me out or set on spies? |
| I think you'd like to lock me in your chest! |
| You should say: "Dear wife, go where you like best, |
| 325 | Amuse yourself, I will believe no tales; |
| You're my wife Alis true, and truth prevails." |
| We love no man that guards us or gives charge |
| Of where we go, for we will be at large. |
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