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The complete works of Geoffrey Chaucer

Edited, from numerous manuscripts by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat

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To Daunger cam I, al ashamed,
The which aforn me hadde blamed,
Desyring for to pese my wo;
But over hegge durst I not go,
For he forbad me the passage.
I fond him cruel in his rage,
And in his hond a gret burdoun.
To him I knelid lowe adoun,
Ful meke of port, and simple of chere,
And seide, ‘Sir, I am comen here
Only to aske of you mercy.
That greveth me, [sir], ful gretly
That ever my lyf I wratthed you,
But for to amende I am come now,

192

With al my might, bothe loude and stille,
To doon right at your owne wille;
For Love made me for to do
That I have trespassed hidirto;
Fro whom I ne may withdrawe myn herte;
Yit shal I never, for Ioy ne smerte,
What so bifalle, good or ille,
Offende more ageyn your wille.
Lever I have endure disese
Than do that shulde you displese.