XXVI.
The knight is sorely pressed.
For þat prynce of pris de-presed hym so þikke.
Nurned hym so ne3e þe þred, þat nede hym bi-houed,
Oþer lach þer hir luf, oþer lodly re-fuse;
He cared for his cortaysye, lest craþayn he were,
& more for his meschef, 3if he schulde make synne,
& be traytor to þat tolke, þat þat telde a3t.
"God schylde," quod þe schalk, "þat schal not be-falle!"
With luf-la3yng a lyt, he layd hym by-syde
Alle þe speche3 of specialté þat sprange of her mouthe.
Quod þat burde to þe burne, "blame 3e disserue,
3if 3e luf not þat lyf þat 3e lye nexte,
Bifore alle þe wy3e3 in þe worlde, wounded in hert,
Bot if 3e haf a lemman, a leuer, þat yow lyke3 better,
& folden fayth to þat fre, festned so harde,
Þat yow lausen ne lyst, & þat I leue nouþe;
And þat 3e telle me þat, now trwly I pray yow,
For alle þe lufe3 vpon lyue, layne not þe soþe,
for gile."
Þe kny3t sayde, "be sayn Ion,"
& smeþely con he smyle,
"In fayth I welde ri3t non,
Ne non wil welde þe quile."