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With his triumph and laurir corouned thus
In all the floure of Fortun'is yevyng
Lete I this noble prince, this Thefeus,
Toward Athenis in his waie ridyng,
And fonde I woll in shortly for to bryng
The flie wale of that I began to write
Of Quene Annelida and falfe Areite.

Mars, that through his furious course of ire,

The olde wrathe of Juno to fulfill,

Hath fet the peplis hertis bathe on fire
Of Thebes and Grece everich othir to kill

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But throng now here now there emong 'hem both, That everiche ethir flue, so were thei wroth:

For when Amphiorax and Tydeus,
Hippomedon and Parthenope' alfo

Were dedde, and flain was the proude Capaneus,
And when the wretchid Thebans brethrin two
Were flain, and Kyng Adraftus home ago,
So defolate flode Thebis and fo bare
That no wight could remedie of his caro.

And when that the old Creon gan espie
How that the blode roiall was brought adoun
He helde the cite by his tyrannie,

And did the gentils of that regioun

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To ben his frendis and dwell in the toun;

So what for love of him, and what for awe
The noble folke were to the toune idrawe.

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Emong all these Annelida the Quene
Of Ermonie was in that toune dwellyng,

That fairir ferre was than the fonnè shene;
Throughout the worlde so gan her name to spryng,
That her to fe had every wight likyng,
For as of trouthe ne is there none her liche
Of all the women in this worldè riche."

Yong was this quene, of twentie yeris olde,
Of middle stature, and of soche fairenesse
That Nature had a joye her to beholde;
And for to fpekin of her stedfastnesse,
She paffid hath Penelope' and Lucreffe;
And, thortlie, if the fhall ben comprehended,
In her there mightin nothyng ben amended.
This Theban knight Arcite eke, fothe to faine,
Was yong, and therwithal a luftie knight,
But he was double' in love and nothing plaine,
And fubtil in that crafte ovre' any wight,
And with his connyng wan this ladie bright,
For fo ferforthe he gan her trouth affure
That the hym truftith o'er any creture.

What should I faine? fhe lovich Arcite fo
That when that he was abfent any throwe
Anone her thought her hertè braft a two,
For in her fight to her he bare hym lowe;
So that he wende have all his herte iknowe;
But he was falfe, it n'as but fainid chere,
As nedith not foche craftis men to lere.

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But nerthèleffe full mikill bufineffe
Had he er that he might his ladie winne,
And swore that he would dyin for distreffe,
Or from his witte he fayid he would twinne;
Alas the while! for it was routhe and finne
That the upon his forowis would rue;
But Nothing thinketh the falfe as doth the true.

Her fredome found Arcite in foche manere
That al was his that she hath, moche or lite,
Ne to no manir ereture made she chere
Furthir then as it likid to Arcite;

Ther was no lack with which he might her wite;
She was fo ferforthe yevin him to plefe...
That all that likid hym did her to ese.

There n'as to her no manir lettir sent,
That touchid love, from any manir wight,
That she ne fhewid hyn or it was brent,
So plain she was, and dyd her fulle might..
That the n'ill hidin nothyng from her knight,
Left he of any untrouthe her upbreide;
Withoutin bode his hertè fhe obeide.

And eke he made hym jelous ovir her, an
That what that any man had to her faied si
Anon he would yprayin her to fwere
What was that worde, or make him illapaied;
Then wenid fhe out of her witte have braied:
But all was nought but fleight and flattirie;
Withoutin love he fainid jeloufle.

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And all this toke the fo debonairly
That al his wil her thought it skilful thyng,
And er the lengir loved hym tendirly,
And did hym honour as he were a kyng;
Her herte was to hym weddid with a ryng,
For fo ferforthe on trouthe is her entent
That where he goith her hert with him went.
Whan fhe fhal ete on him is so her thought
That wel unnethis of mete toke fhe kepe,
And whan that she was to her rest ybrought
On him the thought alway tyl that she slepe,
Whan he was abfent prively dothe she wepe:
Thus livith faire Annelida the Quene
For false Arcyte, that dyd her al this tene.
This falfe Arcyte, of his newfangleneffe,
For fhe to him fo lowly was and trewe,
Ytoke leffe deintè for her ftedfasteneffe,
And fawe anothir lady proude and newe,
And right anon he clad him in her hewe,
Wote I not whethir in white, red, or grene,
And falfid faire Annelida the Quene.

But nerthèleffe, grete wondir was it none
Though he were falfe, for it' is the kinde of man
Sithe Lamech was, that is fo longe agone,

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To be in love as falfe as er he can;

He was the firftè fathir that began

To lovin two, and was in bigamie,

And he founde tentis first but yf men lye.

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This falfe Arcite fomwhat must he nede faine Whan he was falfe to coveren his traitourie, Right as an horse that can both bite and plaine, For he bare her in honde of trechirie, And fwore he coude her doubleness espye, And al was falfeneffe that she to him ment; Thus fwore this thefe, and forth his way he went. 161

Alas! what hertè might endurin it

For routhe or wo her forowe for to tel,

Or what man hath the conning or the wit,

Or what man might within the chambre dwel,
If I to him reherfin fhall the hel

That fuffrith faire Annelida the Quene,
For falfe Arcite, that did her al this tene?
She wepith, wailith, fwounith, pitously;
To grounde as ded she fallith as a stone;
She crampishith her limmis crokidly;
She spekith as her witte were al agone;
Othir colour than afhin hath the none,
Ne none othir worde speketh fhe moch or lite
But Mercy, cruil bertè min, Arcite!

And thus endureth til that fhe was fo mate
That the ne' hath fote on which she may fuftene,
But forth languishing er in this estate,

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Of which Arcite hath neithir rothe ne tene;
His herte was ellifwhere fette new and grene,

That on her wo ne deineth him not to think;
Him reckith ner whethir fhe flete or finke.

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