“Madam,” said the merry man, “Mary reward you,
For I have found, in good faith, your fraunchise is noble;
Others by hearsay hold their opinions,
And the honour they mete is more than my merit,
But ’tis kindness in you, that of courtesy comes.”
“By our Lady,” she answer’d, “but I hold it other:
For were I more worth than all women alive
And all the wealth in the world I might wield at my will
And chaffer and choose to achieve me a lord,
Yet for nobleness, Sir Knight, that I have known in you here,
Your beauty and bounty, and your blithe demeanour,
And for all I e’er heard (and I hold it but true),
Should no free upon fold before you be chosen.”
“I wis,” said the wight, “ye have won you a better,
But I am proud of the price that upon me ye set;
I am soothly your servant, my sovrain I deem you,
And your knight I’ll become: and may Christ you reward.”
Much did they moot of till midmorn was past,
And áy the lády made líke as she lov’d him too well,
But he fared with defence, as faithful man should.
“Though I were fairest of the fair,” in fear did she ponder,
“The less might his love be”—for the loss that he bode
that day,
The dint that should him deave,
That he might shun no way.
The lady spoke of leave,
And he granted her straightway.