The Manciple's Tale
Folio 213r
5 of 8 folios
That to myn herte it was a reioysynge
To here thi vois allas what song is this
Bi god quod he I synge nat amys
145
Phebus quod he for al thi worthinesse
For al thi beaute and al thi gentilesse
For al thi sang and al thi mynstralcye
For al thi waityng blered is thin eye
With on of litel reputacioun
150
Noght worth to the in comparisoun
The montance of a gnat so mot I thryue
For in thi bedde thi wif I say him swyue
What wol ye moore the crow anon him tolde
By sadde toknes and bi wordes bolde
155
How that his wif hadde doon hir lecherie
Him to grete shame and to gret vileynye
And tolde him ofte he sey it with his eyen
¶ This Phebus gan a weyward for to wrien
And thoght his sorowful herte brast atwo
160
His bow he hent and set ther ynne a flo
And in his Ire his wif than hath he slayn
This is theffect ther nys na more to sayn
For sorwe of which he brak his mynstralcye
Bothe harpe and lute and geterne and sawtrie
165
And eek he brak his arwes and his bowe
And after that thus spak he to the crowe
¶ Traitour quod he with tonge of scorpioun
Thow hast me broght to my confusioun
Allas that I was wroght whi nere I ded
170
O dere wif .o. gemme of lustihed
That were to me so sadde and eek so trewe
Now lystow deed with face pale of hew
Ful giltelees that durst I swere I wis
O rakil hand to doon so foule amys
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O trowble wit o Ire recchelees
That vnauysed smytest giltelees
O wantrust ful of fals suspecioun
Where was thi wit and thi discrecioun
O euery man be war of rakelnesse