Text Box: She did look upon Aurelius; "Is this your desire," said she, "and say you thus? Never before," she said, "Did I know what you meant. But now, Aurelius, I know your intention, By that same God that gave me soul and life, I shall never be an untrue wife In word nor deed, so long as I have my wits; I will be his to whom that I am knit. Take this for my final answer." But after that in play thus she said: "Aurelius," she said, "by high God above, Yet would I grant you to be your love, Since I see you so piteously lament. On whatever day that from end to end of Brittany You remove all the rocks, stone by stone, So that they do not prevent ship nor boat to go -- I say, when you have made the coast so clean Of rocks that there is no stone seen, Then will I love you best of any man; Have here my pledged word, in all that is in my power." "Is there no other grace in you?" he said. "No, by that Lord," she said, "that made me! For well I know that it shall never happen. Let such follies pass out of your heart. What pleasure should a man have in his life To go love another man's wife, Who has her body whenever he pleases?" Aurelius very often bitterly sighs; Woe was Aurelius when he heard this, And with a sorrowful heart he thus answered: "Madame," he said, "this would be an impossiblity! Then I must die of sudden horrible death." And with that word he turned away immediately.    She gan to looke upon Aurelius;
"Is this youre wyl," quod she, "and sey ye thus?
Nevere erst," quod she, "ne wiste I what ye mente.
But now, Aurelie, I knowe youre entente,
By thilke God that yaf me soule and lyf,
Ne shal I nevere been untrewe wyf
In word ne werk, as fer as I have wit;
I wol been his to whom that I am knyt.
Taak this for fynal answere as of me."
But after that in pley thus seyde she:
"Aurelie," quod she, "by heighe God above,
Yet wolde I graunte yow to been youre love,
Syn I yow se so pitously complayne.
Looke what day that endelong Britayne
Ye remoeve alle the rokkes, stoon by stoon,
That they ne lette ship ne boot to goon --
I seye, whan ye han maad the coost so clene
Of rokkes that ther nys no stoon ysene,
Thanne wol I love yow best of any man;
Have heer my trouthe, in al that evere I kan."
"Is ther noon oother grace in yow?" quod he.
"No, by that Lord," quod she, "that maked me!
For wel I woot that it shal never bityde.
Lat swiche folies out of youre herte slyde.
What deyntee sholde a man han in his lyf
For to go love another mannes wyf,
That hath hir body whan so that hym liketh?"
Aurelius ful ofte soore siketh;
Wo was Aurelie whan that he this herde,
And with a sorweful herte he thus answerde:
"Madame," quod he, "this were an inpossible!
Thanne moot I dye of sodeyn deth horrible."
And with that word he turned hym anon.
                   

 

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