433 Sone to Florys tydyng men tolde
434 Þat þe Amyral wold Fest holde;
435 His erls, barons comyn sholde,
436 And al þat wold of him lond holde,
437 For to herkyn his hest,
438 And for to honoure his feest.
439 Glad was Florys of þat tydyng.
440 He hoped to come to þat gestyng,
441 3if he my3t in þat halle,
442 His lemman see among hem alle.
443 Now to þat citee Florys is come;
444 Feire he hath his ynne ynoome
445 At a palaise, was none it lyche.
446 Þe lord of þat ynne was fulle ryche;
447 He hadde ben ferre and wyde.
448 Þe Childe he set next his syde,
449 In al þe feirest seete.
450 Alle þey dronken and ete;
451 Al þat þerynne were,
452 Al þey made good chere;
453 Þey ete and dronke echoon with other,
454 But Florys þou3t al another.
455 Ete ne drynke he my3t no3t;
456 On Blauncheflour was al his þou3t.
457 Þan spake þe burgays,
458 Þat was hende and curtays:
459 "Ow, child, me þynkeþ welle
460 Þat muche þou þynkest on þy catelle."
461 "Nay, sir, on catel þenke y nou3t,"
462 On Blauncheflour was al his þou3t,
463 "But y þynke on al wyse
464 For to fynde my marchaundise;
465 And 3it it is þe most woo,
466 When y it fynd, y shal it forgoo."
467 Þan spak þe lord of þat ynne:
468 "Þis sender day, þer sate here-yne
469 Þat faire Maide Blauncheflour.
470 Boþ in halle and in boure,
471 Euer she made mornyng chere,
472 And bement Florys, her lyf fere.
473 Ioye ne blis made she noon;
474 But for Florys she made her moon."
475 Florys toke a coupe of syluer clere,
476 A mantyl of scarlet with menyuere.
477 "Haue þis, sir, to þyn honour;
478 Þow may þonke it Blauncheflour.
479 He my3t make myn hert glade,
480 Þat couþ me tel wheder she is ladde."
481 "Child, to Babyloyn she is brou3t;
482 Þe Amyral hur haþ bou3t:
483 He gaf for hur, as she stood vpry3t,
484 Seuen sithes of gold hur wy3t,
485 For he þenkeþ without weene.
486 Þat faire may haue to Queene.
487 Among his maydons in his toure
488 He hur dide with much honoure."
489 Now Flores resteþ him þere al ny3t,
490 Tyl on þe morrow þe day was ly3t.
491 He roos on þe morownyng.
492 He gaf his ost an hundryd shelyng,
493 To his ost and to his ostesse,
494 And toke his leue and feire dide kysse.
495 And 3erne his ost he besou3t,
496 Þat he him help, 3if he my3t ou3t,
497 3if he my3t with any gynne
498 Þat feire may to him wynne.
499 "Childe," he seide, "to a brygge þow shalt come,
500 The senpere fynde at hoom.
501 He woneth at þe brygges ende;
502 Curtays man he is and hende;
503 We arn bretheren and trouthes ply3t:
504 He can þe wyssh and rede ary3t.
505 Þow shalt bere him a rynge
506 Fro myself to tokenynge,
507 Þat he help þe in boure and halle,
508 As it were my self befalle."
509 Florys takeþ þe ryng and nemeþ leue,
510 For longe wold he nou3t beleue.
511 By þat it was vndern hy3e,
512 Þe brygge come he swyth nye.
513 Þe Senperes name was Darys.
514 Florys gret him wel feire ywys,
515 And he him þe ryng arau3t,
516 And ful feire it him betau3t.
517 Þrou3 þe token of þat ilk ryng
518 Florys had ful faire gestnyng
519 Off fyssh and flessh and tender breed,
520 Of wyn, both white and reed,
521 And euer Florys sate ful colde,
522 And Dares bygan þe childe beholde.
523 "Leue child, what may þis be,
524 Þus þou3tful as y the see?
525 And þow nou3t al in feere,
526 Þat þow makist þus sory chere,
527 Or þou lykkest no3t þis yn?"
528 Þan Floreys answered him:
529 "3is, sir, by Goddes ore,
530 So good ne had y mony day 3ore.
531 God let me abyde þat daye
532 Þat y þe quyte wel may,
533 But y þenke on al wyse
534 Most vppon my marchaundyse;
535 And 3it it is most woo,
536 When y hit fynde, y shal it forgoo."
537 "Childe, woldest þow telle me my gryf,
538 To hele þe, me were ful lyf."
539 Euery word he haþ him tolde,
540 How þe mayde was fro him solde,
541 And how he was of Spayn a kynges sone,
542 For grete loue þeder ycome,
543 To fonde with quayntyse and with gyn,
544 Blauncheflour for to wynne.
545 "Now," seith Dares, "þow art a folt,
546 And for a foole þe childe he halt.
547 "Now y woot how it geeth,
548 Þow desirest þyn own deeth.
549 Þe Amyral haþ to his iustinges
550 Oþer half hundred of ryche kinges,
551 And þe alderrychest king
552 Durst not begynne suche a þing.
553 3if Amyral my3t it vnderstonde,
554 He shulde be drawe in his owne londe.
555 About Babyloyn, y wene,
556 Six longe myle and tene.
557 At euery myle is a walle þerate
558 Seuen sithes twenty 3ate
559 And xx toures þer ben ynne,
560 Þat euery day chepyng is ynne;
561 Euery day and ny3t þrou3-out þe 3ere
562 Þe chepyng is ylyche plenere.
563 And þau3 al þe men þat ben bore
564 Had on hur lyf swore
565 To wynne þat maide feire and free,
566 Al shul þey die, so moot y the.
567 In þat bour, in mydward py3t,
568 Stondeþ a toure, y the ply3t,
569 An hundryd fathum it is hye.
570 Who-soo beholdeþ hit, fer or nere,
571 An hundred fathum it is yfere.
572 It is made without pere,
573 Of lyme and of marbulstone;
574 In al þis world is suche noon.
575 Now is þe morter made so wele,
576 Ne may it breke iren ne steele.
577 Þe Pomel þat aboue is leide,
578 It is made with muche pride,
579 Þat man ne þar in þe tour berne
580 Nouther torchee ne lanterne;
581 Suche a pomel was þer bygone,
582 Hit shyneþ a ny3t so doþ þe soon.
583 Now arn in þat ilk toure
584 Twoo and fourty nobell boure
585 Wel were þat ilke man
586 Þat my3t woone in þat oon!
587 Ne durst him neuer more ywys
588 Couete after more blysse
589 Naw arn þer seriauntes in þat stage
590 Þat seruen þe maydons of hy3e parage;
591 But no serieaunt may serue þerynne
592 Þat bereþ in his breche þat gynne
593 To serue hem day and ny3t,
594 But he be as a capoun dy3t.
595 At þe 3ate is a 3ateward;
596 He is not a Coward.
597 He is wonder proude withalle,
598 Euery day he goþ in ryche palle.
599 And þe Amyral haþ a wonder woon,
600 Þat he þat is come of Cristendome,
601 Euery 3ere to haue a new wyf,
602 Þen he loueþ his Queene as his lyf.
603 Then shul men brynge doun of þe toure.
604 Al þe maidens of grete honoure,
605 And brynge hem into an orchard,
606 Þe feirest of al mydlerd,
607 Þeryn is mony fowles song;
608 Men my3t leue þeryn ful long.
609 About þe Orchard is a walle;
610 Þe fowlest ston is cristalle.
611 And a welle spryngeþ þerynne
612 Þat is made with muche gynne.
613 Þe wel is of muche prys,
614 Þe stremes com froo Paradyse;
615 Þe grauel of þe ground is precious stoones,
616 And al of vertu for þe noones.
617 Now is þe well of muche au3t;
618 3if a woman com þat is forlau3t,
619 And she be doo to þe streeme
620 For to wesshe her honndes clene,
621 Þe water wylle 3elle as it were wood,
622 And bycome red as blood.
623 On what maide þe water fareþ soo,
624 Sone she shal to deþ be doo.
625 Þoo þat ben maidens clene,
626 Þey may wesshe þeryn, y wene;
627 Þe water woll stonde feire and clere;
628 To hem makeþ it no daungere.
629 At þe walles hed stondeþ a tree,
630 Þe feirest þat on erthe may be.
631 It is cleped þe tree of loue;
632 Floures and blossomes spryngen aboue.
633 Þen þey þat maydons clene bene,
634 Þei shul be brou3t vnder þe trene,
635 And which-so falleþ on þe floure
636 Shal be Queene with muche honour.
637 3if any mayden þer is
638 Þat þe Amyral telleþ of more pris,
639 Þe flour shal be to her sent
640 Þrou3 art of enchauntement.
641 Þe Amyral cheseþ hem by þe flour,
642 And euer he herkeneþ after Blauncheflour.
643 Thre sithes Flores sownyd anoon
644 Ri3t byfore hem euerychoon.
645 When he awoke and speke my3t,
646 Sore he wept, and sore he sy3t,
647 And seide: "Dares, y worth now deed,
648 But þat y hope of þe som reed."