118rb] 5 10 15 20 25 30 118va] 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 118vb]    75 80 85 90 95 100 105

¶ Une fable vueil comencer Qe je oy l’autrer counter De Un esquier e une chaunbrere, Que comence en ytiele manere.    Un chevaler jadis estoit Que une tres bele femme avoit, Mes ele n’amoit pas soun lygnage. De ce, ne fist ele que sage. Son frere estoit son esquier, Si ly servy de tiel mestier Come a esquier apent. E la dame ensement Avoit une sue cosyne, Qe molt estoit gente meschyne. E l’esquyer la daunea, E de molt fyn cuer la ama.    Avynt issi par un jour, Que l’esquier la requist d’amour, E cele a sa dame counte Coment l’esquier requist sa hounte.    E dit la dame, “Savez bien Qu’il vous ayme sur tote rien?”    “Oil, certes, ma dame. Ce me jure il par s’alme.”    “Ore arere tost va E ditez vostre amour ne avera Quar vous ne poez saver Qu’il vous ayme de cuer enter Si il ne vous feist une rien, E de ce vous asseurist bien: Vostre cul beiser, premerement, Si que ne sache pas la gent.    E quant avera toun cul beisé, De toi fra sa volenté. E, pus, me dirrez la verité Quant il vous avera ce graunté.”    La pucele ne s’est oblié. A l’esquier est repeyré, Que li dit tot son talent. La pucele dit erralment Que ele ne puet crere ne quider Qu’il l’ayme de cuer entier. Pur ce, si il velt s’amour aver, S’il li covent son cul beyser, E ce si privément Qu’il ne soit aparsu de la gent, “Quar de ce n’averez ja blame.”    “Volenters,” fet il, “par m’alme! Ore tost terme me metez.”    “Tauntost,” fet ele, “si vous volez, La sus en cel jardyn Desouz le perer jahenyn. Alez e ileque m’atendez. Je y vendroi, ce sachez.”    L’esquier avant ala, E la pucele retorna A sa dame si l’a countee, Que molt ad joie demenee. A l’esquier la envoia.    E a soun seigneur meismes ala Ov bele chere, ov bel semblant. “Sire,” fet ele, “venez avaunt Si verrez vostre frere Beyser le cul ma chaunbrere.”    “Certes,” dit il, “je ne quid mie Qu’il freit tiele vyleynie. Si frez, par seint Martyn, Ce mettroi un tonel de vyn.”    La gagure ount affermee E as fenestres sunt alee. La damoisele se est venue A l’esquier, que la salue.    Yl leve sus les dras derer. Pus pensout, “Si a bon mester!” L’esquier, a soun voler, De son affere ne vodra failler. Yl sake avaunt bon bordoun, Si l’a donné enmy le coun. Un gros vit, long e quarré, Si ly a enmy le coun doné. Si la ensi a ly de ces bras afferma Qu’ele ne poeit gwenchir, sa ne la.    E la dame ly escria E hastivement a li parla Ov grosse voiz e longe aleyne: “Gwenchez, trestresse! Gwenchez, puteyne!         Gwenchez! Dieu te doint mal fyn! J’ay perdu le tonel de vyn!”    E ly sire ly dist, en riaunt: “Tien tei, leres, je te comaunt! Frapez la bien e vistement, Je te comaund, hardiement! De lower averez, par seint Thomas, Un cheval qe vaudra dis mars! Ore, dame, me diez, par amour, Ay je gayné le wagour? E, dame, vous ne fetez mie qe sage De haier ceux qe sunt de mon lynage, De pus qe je tendrement Aym les vos entierement.”    Le prodhome fist son frere Esposer cele chaunbrere, E pus aprés ycel jour La dame ama par tendrour Ceux qe soun seygneur ama, E molt de cuer les honora. De La chaunbrere e l’esquier, N’est ore plus a treter.

¶ I want to begin an idle tale That I heard told the other day About A Squire and a Chambermaid, Which begins in this way.    There was once a knight Who had a very fair wife, But she didn’t love his lineage. In this, she wasn’t being at all wise. His brother was his squire, And he served him in such office As is expected of a squire. And the lady likewise Had [in service] one of her cousins, Who was a very refined girl. And the squire courted her, And loved her sincerely.    It happened thus one day, That the squire asked for her love, And she tells her lady How the squire asked for her disgrace.    And the lady says, “Know you well That he loves you above all things?”    “Yes, indeed, my lady. He swears this to me upon his soul.”    “Now go back quickly And tell him he won’t have your love Because you’re not able to know Whether he loves you with his whole heart      Till he does a trivial thing for you, And by this gives you proof: To kiss your ass, first, In such a way that people won’t know,    And when he’s kissed your ass, He’ll have from you what he wants. And, then, tell me truly When he’s granted you this.”    The girl doesn’t waste time. She’s gone back to the squire, Who tells her all his will. Forthwith the girl says That she can’t believe or think That he loves her with his whole heart. For this reason, if he wants to have her love, It’s necessary that he kiss her ass, And this so secretly That he not be seen by people, “So you won’t ever be blamed for this.”    “Gladly,” he says, “upon my soul! Now quickly give me a time.”    “Right away,” she says, “if you want, Up there in that garden Under the pear-jonette tree. Go there and wait for me. I’ll come there, I promise.”    The squire went forth, And the girl returned To her lady and told her about this, Which has made the lady quite merry. To the squire she sent her.    And to her lord she herself went With glad look, with glad expression. “Lord,” she says, “come out And you’ll see your brother Kiss my chambermaid’s ass.”    “Certainly,” he says, “I don’t believe That he’d do something so crude. If you’re willing, by Saint Martin, I’ll wager a cask of wine.”    They’ve agreed on the wager And have gone to the windows. The young lady has come To the squire, who greets her.    He lifts up her gown in the back. Then he thought, “Here’s a good office!” The squire, following his will, Didn’t want to fail in his business. He draws out the sturdy staff, And gives it to her in the center of the cunt. A big prick, long and thick, He’s given her in the center of the cunt. And he’s so bound her to him with his arms That she can’t turn away, this way or that.    And the lady cried out to her And hastily spoke to her With a big voice and a long breath: “Turn away, traitress! Turn away, whore! Turn away! God give you a bad end! I’ve lost the cask of wine!”    And, laughing, the lord said to him: “Hold on tight, rascal, I command you! Strike her well and quickly, I command you, heartily! As a reward you’ll have, by Saint Thomas, A horse that’ll be worth ten marks! Now, lady, tell me, for love’s sake, Have I won the wager? And, lady, you’re not acting at all wisely To hate those who are of my lineage, Since I tenderly Love yours thoroughly.”    The good man had his brother Marry the chambermaid, And ever since that day The lady loved with tenderness Those whom her lord loved, And honored them sincerely. Of The Chambermaid and the Squire, There’s now no more to discuss.

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