5 10 15 20 fol. 62v 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 fol. 63r 80 85 90 95 100 105 110 115 120 125 fol. 63v 131 135 140 145 150 155 160 165 170 175 180 fol. 64r 185 190 195 200 205 210 215 220 225 230 fol. 64v 236 240 245 250 255 260 265 270 275 280 285 fol. 65r 290 295 300 305 310 315 320 325 330 335 fol. 65v    341 345 350 355 360 365 370 375 380 385 390 395

Lordyngys curtase and hende, Lystyns how this tale schall ende      That I wyll yow seyne. And if ye wyll with gode wyll here, Gret gode ye may therin lere,      In hert, if ye it leyn. I schall tell wyffe and man How Owre Lady helpe can      That to hyr clepe at nede. Thar schall no man, sykerly, Do nought for owre dere Lady      Bot he schall have his mede.1 Thys schall I preve thorow a skyll; Herkyns if it be your wyll      Thys gest for to here: A feyr merakyll of a knyght, And of hys lady feyr and bryght,      That was hym leffe and dere. A knyght wonyd her besyde, That had inoghe of gret pride      Unto hys lyffys ende. A lady he had to hys wyffe, That he lovyd as hys lyffe,      Was com of nobull kynde. Syche a grace God them gafe, That thei myght no chyld have      Of all a seven yere. Therfor the knyght and hys lady Both thei were full sory,      And changyd oft ther chere. Nevertheles, the knyght and hys wyffe Both thei were of gowd lyffe.      To God thei made a bone That he schuld them some chyld send; Jhesu Cryst, that is so hend,      God grantyd them well sone. So long together thei gan praye, That he sent them childer tweye      Of ther awne blode. The knyght and hys lady were full blythe, And thankyd God many a sythe      Of hys sond gode. Thus the knyght and hys wyfe Lyved mery in clen lyffe,      With joy and grete solas, Tyll sche was with the thyrd chyld. Well oft thei thankyd Mary myld      That sent them that grace. Than thei were both blyth and glad; Iche to other grete joy made,      Both erly and late. The devell therof had envy, And went aboute as a spy,      Ther trew lufe to abate. Thus dyd the fend, the fowle wyght; He was about dey and nyght      In bale to bryng them bothe. Bot he myght never be the more, In all the tyme ther before,      Ons to make them wrothe. Sych a maner had the knyght, In serteyn usage every nyght      Thorow the longe yere, Into hys chapell for to wend Befor Owre Lady gode and hend      To make hys prayer. Befor Oure Lady suete and dere, Ther he made hys prayer      With full gode wyll. Hys lady never ondername When he yede ne when he came,      Bot ley and slepyd wyll styll. The fend of hell fondyd fast If that he myght wordys cast      For to wrothe them atwyn, And for hys wyked intysment, Well nyghe thei had both be schent —      Herkyns, I schall yow seyn. Upon a dey, as ye may here, The knyght and his lady dere      Sate in solas, And ther feyre chylder twey Went afore them for to pley,      In that iche place. The thyrd was in hyr wome, iwys; The knyght therof had joy and blysse,      And his lady in that stownd. “Leff syr,” seyd sche, “Lovyst thou any thing beter than me,      That owhere may be fond?” “Sertys, dame,” he seyd, “nay, In no thing me nevyn may      I ne have so grete lykyng, Bot of a woman that I wote I love wele more, God it wote,      Than any erthly thyng.” “Ye, ye!” than seyd sche, “Lovyst thou another better than me?”      And thought a lyther gyn. And wend that hyr lord than Had lovyd some other woman,      In the maner of synne. Nay, be God, it was not so, It was another worth the two      That he lovyd in lede. It was Owre Lady that he ment, And els thei had both be schent      At ther most nede. The devyll of hell wyst wele this, That hyr herte wrethyd is,      And thought it schuld be more. To helle he went withouten feyle, At the fendys to take counseylle      What hym best do were. Thorow counsyll of the fendys felle, The most schrewe that was in helle      Went withouten feyll; To a wych in the toune he wente, That was out of the ryght entent,      And told hyre hys counsell. “Sey, woman,” than seyd he, “Wyll thou wynne gold and fe?      Hast thou therto nede? Inowghe I schall thee gyfe of tho, That thou of myn erand go,      And do als I thee rede. “To a castyll I wyll thee send; To the lady gode and hend,      Go thou now forth rathe. Sche is a party of my kyn, Wherfor I wold with som gynne      Warn hyr of hyr skathe. “Sche is led with grete unryght: Hyr lord aryseth every nyght,      And fro hyr goth full styll. To another woman wendys he, That he lovys more than such thre,      And pleys with hyr hys fylle. “All cold he comys agen hyr to. Go to hyr and sey hyre so;      No word thou schalt lye. The next nyght that schall com, He schall do that he is wone—      Loke that sche aspye. “Sey hyr that sche schew hym nought, So myght sche sone to deth be brought.      Byd hyr lye full styll. If thou do as I thee rede, Thow schalt have rych mede,      Of rede gold thy fylle.” “Yis,” sche seyd, “well glad am I For to go to my lady;      I schall be ther full rathe. Sche hath do me full mykyll gode; I ame full joyfull in my mode      To wern hyr of hyr skathe.” Thorow the devyllus intysment, To the castell sche is went,      And salewygh the lady ther. “Leffe madam,” seyd scho, “I wold speke a word with yow,      If it your wyll were. “Comly lady, gent and fre, I wold thee tell a privyté,      If thou me not bewrye. Thow schall leve onne my lare; Thyng that thow ne wyst are,      Herkyns now, I schall thee sey. “Thy lord that thow lovys so myche, He betrays thee, sykerlych,      And doyht thee vylony. He gose fro thee iche nyght ons To a woman in hys wonys;      Luke that thow aspye. “The next nyght that schall come, He schall do as he is wone,      By hyr for to lye. Bot that thou schew hym nought — So myght thou sone to deth be broght —      Styll that thow lye.” The lady spake wordys no mo. “Woman,” sche seyd, “if it be so,      Thow schall have thi mede.” Crystys cursse on ther hedys than, The wych and hyr lorys-man,      For that ilke dede. The fyrst nyght that after cam, The knyght wente to bede anon,      And hys lady dere. Styll sche ley as sche slepe, For that sche wold take kepe,      The soth how it were. Hyr lord wend sche had slepe tho, And ros up and gan to go,      Als he was bowne. Into his chapell he gan wend To pray to Owre Lady hend,      That bare Godys son. When the lady wyst tho That hyr lord was fro hyr go,      Sche seyd “Alas!” that whyle. “Now I wote that soth it is That the wydew seyd me, iwys,      My lord had do me gyle. “He lovys another better than me. Alas, alas!” than seyd sche,      “Myn herte is full of care! The werke that he wyrkys now, It schall not fall for hys prow;      It schall hym rew full sore.” Thus sche gan alon speke, And thought how sche myght it wreke,      To schend hyrselve that tyde. Sche drew a knyfe, soth to seyn, And slew hyr feyr chylder tweyn      That ley be hyr syde. When sche had this werke wroght, Sche seyd “Alas!” and hyr bethought,      “Myn hert is full of sorow. Wyte my lord what I have don, He wyll me scle ryght sone,      That no man schall me borow. “Ney, that schall not be so; Wers I schall myselve do,      What ever therof fall.” With a knyffe was kene and scherpe She smote hyrselve to the herte —      That was werst of all. Now was this a rewfull syght, In that chamber that same nyght,      The man that myght behold. The lady and hyr chylder twey, In hyr wombe the thyrd I sey,      All thei were wele cold. The fend of hell was glad of this, For he wend wele iwys      Of them he schuld not feyle. Bot ye schall here in a whyle How that he was begyle,      And lest all hys traveyle. For the knyght, as ye may her, Ley welle fast in hys prayer,      With full gode wylle. When hys prayers were a-done, To hys chamber he went sone,      Hymselve alone wele stylle. To the bed the knyght gan go; He fond hys wyfe, hys chylder two,      Ded thei ley ther. The bede was spred with ther blode. The knyght for sorow wex ne wode,      And wonderyd on that fare. “Lady, mersy!” seyd the knyght, “Who has ben here this nyght      And done this rewfull dede? Lady, helpe — I ame forlorn, Bot ye that I have ben beforn      Helpe me at this nede! “Thys woman hath hyrselve schent Thorow the fendys entysment —      Lord how may this be? If I be takyn in this lede, I schall be hangyd for this dede —      Whether may I fle? “Thys castell is so strong withall, I ne mey owte at the wall      Nouwher aboute Tyll tomorn that it be dey, Bot I may than skape awey;      Of my deth I doute.” Thus he wepyd and made wo. To Owre Lady he clepyd tho —      In herte had he no game. As he was gyltles of that dede, He prayd her helpe hym in that nede,      And scheld hym fro schame. To the chapell he went in haste, And prayd Our Lady swyth faste      Send hym of hyr grace. What for sorow and for wepe, Sone he fell fast on sclepe      In that same plas. Owre Lady forgate hym nothing, Ne hyr sone, heven kyng,      To helpe at that nede. Ther schall no man, sykyrly, Do nought for owre dere Lady,      Bot he schall have his mede. Herkyns how the fendys felle, How that they went oute of hell,      So lothe thei were to tyne. A thousand went on a raw, For thei wend in a throw      The sawle have to pyne. Som were ragyd and long tayled, Scharpe clawyd and long nayled,      The fendys every-ichon. Som had hornes grete and long, Oute of ther mouth the fyre sprong —      Withouten lake were non. Than this was a grysly syght, Who so had sen them that nyght,      Com rakyng on a raw. Lystyns now and herkyns game, How all ther joy was ternyd to schame      In a lytell throw, Thorow the myght of meyd Mary, That sche com doune from hevyn hy      Agene the fendys felle. Sche seyd, “Fendys, fle awey, For her ye have tyned your pray;      The saule schall with me duelle.” “Ney, for soth,” seyde Sathanas, “Hyte hath hyr happyd a foule cas;      Thou feylest of thi arte. Sche slew hyrselve with myght and onde, And hyr chylder with hyr hond;      Of them thou hast no parte.” The quen of heven stude full styll, And sofyrd them to sey ther wyll;      Therof sche gan smyle. “He that lyght in my servys, It schall be at hys asyse;      He schall not tyn hys whyle.” The fendys cryed as thei were wode, “Go we hens with body and blode;      No lenger wyll we duelle!” Fowre thousand fendys and one Wend to take hyr and gone      Withoute lettyng to helle. “Late be, fendys, your feleny; Wene ye for to have mastry      At your awne wyll? Fyrst we schall speke wordys mo, That schall yow lyke non of tho,      Bot make your hertys gryll. “I congour thee, fend, that thou me sey, That thou ne lete for love ne aye,      How came this sorow in place, And in what maner it fyrst began, Whether that it were thorow fend or woman —      Tell me or thou passe.” “For soth, lady,” seyd he, “It com thorow a wych and me;      I may it not forsake. Boldly I have it wroght; Therfor thei schall to hell be brought,      Ther pays for to make.” “Ney, ther me thinke thou doyst wrong, When ye hyr chermyd to your hond      That lyved in pese and gryght. Take ye,” sche seyd, “that ye have wrought, And leve that my sone hath bought,      And delyth no more them wyth. “Nay, I you sey sothly, Whyll sche dyd this foly,      Hyr lord was my servant. And thorow hyre lordys besekyng They schall have lyffe and gode endyng,      Thorow my sones grante.” The fendys lowd thei gan crye, And seyd, “Late be that, Mary,      Hens I rede thou fle. Sche dyd it thorow a myschans, Without schryft and repentans;      Our sche schall be.” Than ansuerd the quen Mary, “Late be this noys and this cry;      It helpe you ryght nought. Hyr lord and sche be of a blode, And thorow his werkys trew and gode      To lyfe thei schall be brought. “And ches tham at ther fre wyll, After that they thinke skyll,      To whom thei wyll them hold: With my son for to duell, Or with you fendys of hell,      That makys you so bold.” When the angellus began to sey The bodys schuld on lyve be      Thorow Oure Ladys saw, Every angell a devyll hente, And thyrst them that ther rybbys bent,      For tene of ther plaw. The fendys saw that they had lorne. Every fend had other torne      With a mody chere. Never thei stynte ne blane, To thei to the wych came,      And sette hyr house on fyre. The fyre was blo as brymston; They brake the wychys bakebone,      Oneth on lyffe hyr lete. Hyr neyghbors ther besyde Dorste no lenger abyde,      Bot fled awey full sore. . . .

Gentlemen; gentle; (see note); (t-note) tell to you; (t-note) learn attend to; (t-note) call [at times of] need explanation story beloved dwelled near here enough; satisfaction Was born; family (see note) good faith plea courteous two time message (gift) wholesome life pleasure to end creature sorrow the more [successful] Once; angry (see note) noticed when; returned well (very) peacefully attempted immediately divide them with anger; (t-note) enticement ruined same womb, indeed condition; (t-note) Dear anywhere I can name know evil scheme thought in the land otherwise; ruined In their greatest [time of] need knew angered (t-note) fierce most wicked [creature]; (t-note) witch; (t-note) i.e., was evil-minded gold and fee (reward) those [rewards] advise gentle quickly ally of my family scheme injury (i.e., done to her) treated; injustice quietly accustomed Tell her; tell (reveal) reward red (bright) quickly mind (heart) injury salutes (greets) secret betray take heed to my instruction did not know before does; dishonor once as is his custom (t-note) accustomed of that tell; (t-note) teacher take heed (keep watch); (t-note) thought prepared to go (t-note) indeed; (t-note) turn out to his benefit he shall regret avenge; (t-note) destroy (see note) thought to herself [When] my lord knows slay rescue pitiful believed well indeed beguiled lost; work fixed deeply nearly went mad event lost killed manner To where cannot get out escape fear joy Deliver him weeping forgot him not at all (see note); (t-note) treacherous; (see note) to be deprived of [a soul] row believed; instant for punishment; (see note) shaggy each one disfigurement (fault, sin) rushing in a line brief moment wicked here; lost i.e., she has earned an evil fate power malice (envy) share (see note) allowed lies (acts within) judgment; (see note) lose (waste) his time insane Thought hindrance Think; power grieve order; tell; (see note) hold back; fear How this sorrow happened here before you go disavow (t-note) journey amity an evil deed (see note); (t-note) i.e., linked by blood According to what they think reasonable judgment seized squeezed them so that anger; argument lost a different course angry heart stopped nor delayed blue Scarcely alive they left her (see note)