by: Anne Laskaya (Editor) , Eve Salisbury (Editor)
from: The Middle English Breton Lays 1995
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And though that he were worthy, he was wys,27 Ne non semblyere in syght. A: And mery sche was on sighte. The description of Clarys in B parallels that of Cleges in line six.
And of his port as meeke as is a mayde.
(General Prologue, 68-69)
O then bespoke the babe,The motif has also been noted in the Wakefield Master's Secunda Pastorum in The Towneley Cycle (see introduction).
within his mother's womb:
"Bow down then the tallest tree,
for my mother to have some."
Thei prechen ous in audienceThe fruit also appears in an elaborate description of the hortus conclusus in The Pistel of Swete Susan: "The chirie and the chestein that chosen is of hewe" (line 93).
That noman schalle his soule empeyre,
For al is bot a chirie feire.
Somtime I drawe into memoire
Hou sorwe mai noght evere laste;
And so comth hope in ate laste,
Whan I non other fode knowe
And that endureth bot a throwe,
Riht as it were a cherie feste;
Al the pore peple . pese-coddes fetten,A "ripe cherry" is likened to the material world in A Father's Instructions to His Son, a companion piece in B: "Son, set nought by this world's weal, for it fares as a ripe cherry."
Bake benes in bred . thei brouhten in heor lappes
Chibolles, cheef mete . and ripe chiries monye,
And proferde Pers this present . to plese with hungur.
(ed., Skeat, A text, VII, 279-82; see also B VI 294-97.
The line is omitted in the C text.)
a basket of considerable size for carrying provisions, fish, or other commodities; in later use mostly restricted to those carried by a beast of burden (usually in pairs, one on each side, slung across the back), or on the shoulders of a man or woman.255 There seems to be an error in chronology. If the miracle occurs on Christmas Day then Cleges' journey to deliver the gift to King Uther takes place on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas.
He sette him wel logheIn Piers Plowman, Will experiences poverty first hand:
In beggeres row.
Ich haue mete more than ynough . ac nought so moche worshipB: Go. T emends to To.
As tho that seten atte syde-table . or with the souereignes of the halle
But sitte as a begger bordeless . bi myself on the grounde.
(ed., Skeat, B text, XII, 199-201)
An usher or marshal, without fail, must know all the estates of the Church, and the excellent estate of a king with his honourable blood. This is a notable nurture, cunning, curious and commendable . . . and now I will show you how they should be grouped at table in respect of their dignity, and how they should be served. (As quoted in The Babees Book: Medieval Manners for the Young, ed., Edith Rickert, pp. 69-71.)316 wernyng. A: lesyng. The variant readings are worth noting. A implies that the usher expects Cleges to lie; B expects compliance.
Elyng is the halle . vche daye in the wyke,484 a geyst i-seyd. H observes a significant variance between MSS in this passage. While in A the harper sings a song of Cleges, in B the subject of the song is not mentioned.
There the lord ne the lady . liketh noughte to sytte
Now hath vche riche a reule . to eten bi hym-selue
In a pryue parloure . for pore mennes sake,
Or in a chambre with a chymneye . and leue the chief halle,
That was made for meles . men to eten inne.
(ed., Skeat, B, X, 93-99)
Lystyns, lordynges, and ye schall here
Off ansytores, that before us were,
Bothe herdy and wyght.
In tyme of Uter and Pendragoun,
Kyng Artour fader of grete renoune,
A sembly man of syght.
He had a knyghht, hyght Sir Clegys;
A doughtyere man was non at nedys
Of the Ronde Tabull ryght.
He was man of hy statoure
And therto feyre of all fetour,
A man of mekyll myght.
Mour curtas knyght than he was one
In all this werld was ther non;
He was so gentyll and fre.
To squyres, that traveyled in lond of werre
And wer fallyn in poverté bare,
He gaff them gold and fe.
Hys tenantes feyre he wold rehete;
No man he wold buske ne bete;
Meke as meyd was he.
Hys mete was redy to every man,
That wold com and vyset hym than;
He was full of plenté.
The knyght had a gentyll wyff,
A better myghht non be of lyfe
Ne non semblyere in syght.
Dame Clarys hyght that lady;
Off all godnes sche had treuly
Glad chere bothe dey and nyght.
Grete almusfolke bothe thei were
Both to pore man and to frere;
They cheryd many a wyght:
Fore them had no man ought lore,
Whether thei wer ryche ore pore,
Of hym thei schuld have ryght.
Every yere Sir Clegys wold
In Crystynmes a fest hold
In the worschype of that dey.
As ryall in all thynge,
As he hade ben a kynge.
For soth, as I you saye,
Ryche and pore in that contré
At that fest thei schuld be;
There wold no man sey nay.
Mynstrellus wold not be behynd,
Myrthys wer thei may fynd.
That is most to ther pay.
Mynstrellus, when the fest was don,
Schuld not withoutyn gyftes gon,
That wer both rych and gode,
Hors and robys and rych rynges,
Gold and sylver and other thynges,
To mend with ther mode.
Ten yere our twelve sych festes thei held
In worschype of Hym, that all weld
And fore us dyghed upon the Rode.
Be than his gode began to slake,
Sych festes he gan make,
The knyght of jentyll blode.
To hold hys feste he wold not lete;
Hys rych maners to wede he sete;
He thought hymselve oute to quyte. 1
Thus he festyd many a yere
Both gentyll men and comenere
In the name of God allmyght.
So at the last, soth to sey,
All hys gode was spendyd away;
Than he had bot a lyte.
Thoff hys god were ne hond leste,
In the wyrschyp he made a feste;
He hopyd, God wold hym quyte.
Hys ryalty he forderyd ay,
To hys maners wer sold awey,
That hym was left bot one,
And that was of lytell valew,
That he and hys wyfe so trew
Oneth myght lyfe therone.
Hys men, that wer so mych of pride,
Weste awey onne every syde;
With hym ther left not one.
To duell with hym ther left no mo
Bot hys wyfe and his chylder two.
Than made he mekyll mone.
It fell on a Crystenmes Eve,
Syre Clegys and his wyfe,
They duellyd by Cardyff syde.
When it drew towerd the none,
Syre Clegys fell in swownyng sone;
Wo bethought hym that tyde,
What myrth he was wonte to hold,
And he, he had hys maners solde,
Tenandrys and landes wyde.
Mekyll sorow made he ther;
He wrong hys hondes and wepyd sore,
Fore fallyd was hys pride.
And as he walkyd uppe and done
Sore sygheng, he herd a sowne
Off dyverse mynstralsy,
Off trumpers, pypers, and nakerners,
Off herpers notys and gytherners,
Off sytall and of sautrey.
Many carrals and grete dansyng
In every syde herd he syng,
In every place, treuly.
He wrong hys hondes and wepyd sore;
Mekyll mon he made ther,
Sygheng full pytewysly.
"A, Jhesu, Heven Kyng,
Off nought Thou madyst all thyng;
I thanke The of Thy sonde.
The myrth, that I was won to make
In this tyme fore Thi sake,
I fede both fre and bond,
And all, that ever com in Thi name,
They wantyd nother wylde ne tame,
That was in any lond,
Off rych metys and drynkes gode.
That longes for any manus fode,
Off cost I wold not wonde."
Als he stode in mournyng so,
And hys wyfe com hym to,
In armys sche hym bente.
Sche kyssed hym with glad chere
And seyd: "My trew wedyd fere,
I here wele what ye ment.
Ye se wele, sir, it helpys nought,
To take sorow in your thought;
Therefore I rede ye stynte.
Let your sorowe awaye gon
And thanke God of Hys lone
Of all that He hath sent.
"Be Crystes sake, I rede ye lynne
Of all the sorow that ye be ine,
Agene this holy dey.
Now every man schuld be mery and glad
With sych godes, as thei had;
Be ye so, I you pray.
Go we to ouer mete belyve
And make us both mery and blythe,
Als wele as ever we may.
I hold it fore the best, trewly;
I have made owre mete treuly,
I hope, unto your pay."
"Now I assent," quothe Cleges tho,
In with hyre he gan go
Somwhat with better chere.
When he fell in thought and care,
Sche comforth hym ever mour,
Hys sorow fore to stere.
After he gan to wex blyth
And wyped hys terys blyve,
That hang on hys lyre.
Than thei wesch and went to mete
With sych god as thei myght gete
And made mery chere.
When thei had ete, the soth to sey,
With myrth thei drofe the dey awey,
The best wey that they myght.
With ther chylder pley thei dyde
And after evensong went to bede
At serteyn of the nyght.
The sclepyd to it rong at the chyrche,
Godes servys forto wyrche,
As it was skyll and ryght.
Up thei ros and went thether,
They and ther chylder together,
When thei were redy dyght.
Syre Cleges knelyd on hys kne;
To Jhesu Cryst prayd he
Be chesyn of hys wyfe:
"Grasyos Lord," he seyd tho,
"My wife and my chylder two,
Kepe us out of stryffe!"
The lady prayd hym ageyn;
Sche seyd: "God, kepe my lord fro peyn
Into everlastyng lyffe!"
Servys was don and hom their wente;
The thankyd God omnipotent;
They went home so ryfe.
When he to hys palys com,
He thought his sorow was overgon;
Hys sorow he gan stynt.
He made hys wyfe before hym gon
And hys chylder everychon;
Hymselve alone he wente
Into a garthyn ther besyde;
He knelyd adoun in that tyde
And prayd to God verament.
He thankyd God with all hys hert
Of all desesyd in poverté,
That ever to hym He sente.
As he knelyd oune hys kne
Underneth a chery tre,
Makyng hys praere,
He rawght a bowghe in hys hond,
To ryse therby and upstond;
No lenger knelyd he ther.
When the bowghe was in hys hond,
Gren levys theron he fond
And ronde beryes in fere.
He seyd: "Dere God in Trinyté,
What maner beryes may this be,
That grow this tyme of yere?
"I have not se this tyme of yere,
That treys any fruyt schuld bere,
Als ferre as I have sought."
He thought to tayst it, yff he couthe
One of them he put in hys mouthe;
Spare wold he nought.
After a chery it relesyd clene,
The best that ever he had sene,
Seth he was man wrought.
A lytell bow he gan of slyfe
And thought he wold schewe it hys wyfe;
In hys hond he it brought.
"Lo, dame, here is a nowylté;
In ouer garthyn upon a tre
Y found it sykerly.
Y ame aferd, it is tokenyng
Be cause of ouer grete plenyng,
That mour grevans is ny."
His wyfe seyd: "It is tokenyng
Off mour godness, that is comyng;
We schall have mour plenté.
Have we les our have we mour,
Allwey thanke we God therfore;
It is the best, treulye."
The lady seyd with gode chere:
"Late us fyll a panyere
Off the frute, that God hath sente.
Tomorrow, when the dey do spryng,
Ye schall to Cardyff to the Kyng,
Full feyre hym to presente.
Sych a gyft the may hafe ther,
That we schall the beter fare;
I tell you, verament."
Syr Clegys grantyd sone therto:
"Tomorowe to Cardyff I wyll go
After your entent."
The morne, when it was dey lyght,
The lady had the pannyere dyght;
To hyre eldyst son seyd sche:
"Take up this pannyere gladly
And bere it at thy bake esyly
After thi fader so fre."
Syr Clegys than a staff he toke;
He had no hors, so seyth the boke,
To ryde hys jorneye,
Nether sted ne palferey,
Bot a staff was his hakney,
As maner in poverté.
Syre Cleges and hys son gent
The ryght wey to Cardyfe went
On Crystenmes Dey.
To the castell gate thei com full ryght,
As thei wer to mete dyght,
At none, the soth to sey.
As Sir Cleges wold in go,
In pore clothyng was he tho,
In a symple aray.
The porter seyd full spytously:
"Thow schall withdraw the smertly,
I rede, withoute deley,
Els, be God and Seynt Mary,
I schall breke thi hede smertly,
Go stond in begers route.
Iff thou draw any mour inwerd,
Thow schall rew it afterwerd;
I schall the so cloute."
"Gode sir," seyd Sir Cleges tho,
"I pray you, late me in go:
Thys is withouten doute:
The Kyng I have a present browght
Fro Hym, that made all thinge of nought;
Behold and loke aboute!"
The pourter to the pannyere wente;
Sone the lyde up he hente;
The cherys he gan behold.
Wele he wyst, fore his commyng,
Fore hys present to the Kyng,
Grete gyftes have he schuld.
He seyd: "Be Hym that me dere bought,
In at this gate commys thou nought,
Be Hym that made this mold,
The thyrd parte bot though graunte me
Off that the Kyng wyll gyff the,
Whether it be sylver our gold."
Syre Cleges seyd: "Therto I sente."
He gave hym leve, and in he wente
Withouten mour lettyng.
In he went a grete pas;
The offycers at the dore was
With a staff standyng.
In com Sir Cleges so wyght;
He seyd: "Go, chorle, out of my syght,
Without any mour lettyng.
I schall the bete every lythe,
Hede and body, withoutyn grythe,
And thou make mour presyng."
"Gode sir," seyd Sir Cleges than,
"For Hys love, that made man,
Sese your angry mode,
For I have a presante brought
Fro Hym, that made all thyng of nowght
And dyed upon the Rode.
Thys nyght this fruyt grew;
Behold, whether I be fals our trew;
They be gentyll and gode."
The usschere lyfte up the lyde smertly;
The feyrest cherys, that ever he sey,
He mervyllyd in his mode.
The usschere seyd: "Be Mary suete,
Thou comyst not in this halle on fete,
I tell the, sykerly,
Bot thou graunte me, without wernyng,
The thyrd parte of thi wyneng
When thou comyst ageyn to me."
Syre Cleges sey non other wone,
Bot ther he grantyd hym anon;
It wold non other weys be.
Than Sir Cleges with hevy chere
Toke his son and his pannyere;
Into the hall went he.
The stewerd stert fast in the hall,
Among the lordes in the halle
That weryd ryche wede.
He went to Sir Cleges boldly
And seyd: "Who made the so herdy,
To come hether, our thou were bede?"
"Cherle," he seyd, "thou arte to bolde.
Withdraw the with the clothes olde
Smertly, I the rede."
He seyd: "Sir, I have a presant brought
Fro that Lord that us dere bought
And on the Rode gan bled."
The stewerd stert forth wele sone
And plukyd up the lyde anon,
Als smertly as he mought.
The stewerd seyd: "Be Mary dere,
Thys saw I never this tyme of yere,
Seth I was man i-wrought.
Thow schall cum no nere the Kyng,
Bot if thou grante me myn askyng,
Be Hym that me dere bought.
The thyrd parte of the Kynges gyfte
I wyll have, be my thryfte,
Or els go truse the oute!"
Syre Cleges stode and bethoughht hym than:
And I schuld parte betwyx thre men,
Myselve schuld haue no thyng.
Fore my traveyll schall I not gete,
Bot if it be a melys mete."
Thus thought hym sore sygheng.
He seyd: "Herlot, has thou no tong?
Speke to me and tary not long
And grante me myn askyng,
Or with a staff I schall the twake
And bete thi ragges to thi bake
And schofe the out hedlyng!"
Syre Cleges saw non other bote,
Hys askyng grante hym he mote,
And seyd with syghyng sore:
"What that ever the Kyng rewerd,
Ye schall have the thyrd parte,
Whether it be lesse our more."
When Sir Cleges had seyd that word,
The stewerd and he wer acorde
And seyd to hym no more.
Up to the Kyng sone he went;
Full feyre he proferd hys presente,
Knelyng onne hys kne hym before.
Syre Cleges uncoveryd the pannyere
And schewyd the Kyng the cherys clere,
Upon the ground knelyng.
He seyd: "Jhesu, ouer Savyoure,
Sente you this fruyt with grete honour
Thys dey onne erth growyng."
The Kyng saw the cherys fressch and new,
And seyd: "I thanke the, swete Jhesu,
Here is a feyre newyng."
He comandyd Sir Cleges to mete,
A word after with hym to speke,
Without any feylyng.
The Kyng therfore made a presente
And send unto a lady gente,
Was born in Corneweyle.
Sche was a lady bryght and schen;
After sche was hys awne Quen,
Withouten any feyle.
The cherys wer served throughe the hall;
Than seyd the Kyng, a lord ryall:
"Be mery, be my conseyle!
And he that brought me this present,
I schall make hym so content
It schall hym wele avayle."
When all men wer merye and glad,
Anon the Kyng a squyre bade:
"Bryng hym me beforne,
The pore man that the cherys brought."
Anon he went and taryd nought,
Withouten any scorne;
He brought Cleges before the Kyng.
Anon he fell in knelyng,
He wend hys gyft had be lorn.
He spake to the Kyng with wordes felle;
He seyd: "Lege lord, what is your wylle?
I ame your man fre borne."
"I thanke the hertely," seyd the Kyng,
"Off the grete presentyng,
That thou hast to me do.
Thow hast honouryd all my feste
With thi deyntes, moste and leste,
And worschyped me allso.
What that ever thou wyll have,
I wyll the grante, so God me save,
That thin hert stondes to,
Whether it be lond our lede
Or other gode, so God me spede.
How that ever it go."
He seyd: "Gare mersy, lege Kyng!
Thys is to me a hye thing,
Fore sych one as I be.
Forto grante me lond our lede
Or any gode, so Gode me spede,
Thys is to myche fore me.
Bot seth that I schall ches myselve,
I aske nothyng bot strokes twelve,
Frely now grante ye me,
With my staff to pay them all
Myn adversarys in this hall,
Fore Seynt Charyté."
Than ansuerd Uter the Kyng;
He seyd: "I repent my grantyng,
The covenand, that I made."
He seyd: "Be Hym that made me and the,
Thou had be better take gold our fe;
Mour nede therto thou hade."
Syr Cleges seyd withouten warryng;
"Lord, it is your awne graunteyng;
I may not be deleyd."
The Kyng was angary and grevyd sore;
Never the les he grante hym thore,
The dyntes schuld be payd.
Syre Cleges went into the hall
Among the grete lordes all,
Withouten any mour.
He sought after the stewerd;
He thought to pay hym his rewerd,
Fore he had grevyd hym sore.
He gafe the stewerd sych a stroke,
That he fell doune lyke a bloke
Among all that there were,
And after he gaff hym strokes thre;
He seyd: "Sir, for thi curtassé,
Stryke thou me no mour!"
Out of the hall Sir Cleges wente:
To pay mo strokes he had mente,
Withowtyn any lette.
To the usschere he gan go;
Sore strokes gaffe he tho,
When thei togeder mette,
That afterwerd many a dey
He wold wern no man the wey
So grymly he hym grete.
Syr Cleges seyd: "Be my thryfte,
Thou hast the thyrd parte of my gyfte,
Ryght evyn as I the hyght."
To the porter com he yare;
Foure strokes payd he thare;
His parte had he tho.
Aftyrwerd many a day
He wold wern no man the wey.
Nether to ryde ne go.
The fyrst stroke he leyd hym onne,
He brake atwo hys schulder bone
And hys ryght arme also.
Syre Cleges seyd: "Be my thryfte,
Thow hast the thyrd parte of my gyfte;
Covenant made we so."
The Kyng was sett in hys parlere,
Myrth and revell forto here;
Syre Cleges theder wente.
An harper had a geyst i-seyd,
That made the Kyng full wele apayd,
As to hys entente.
Than seyd the Kyng to this herpere:
"Mykyll thou may ofte tyme here,
Fore thou hast ferre wente.
Tell me trew, if thou can:
Knowyst thou thys pore man,
That this dey me presente?"
He seyd: "My lege, withouten les,
Somtyme men callyd hym Cleges;
He was a knyght of youre.
I may thinke, when that he was
Full of fortone and of grace,
A man of hye stature."
The Kyng seyd: "This is not he in dede;
It is long gon that he was dede,
That I lovyd paramour.
Wold God that he wer wyth me;
I had hym lever than knyghtes thre:
That knyght was styff in stoure."
Syre Cleges knelyd before the Kyng;
For he had grantyd hym hys askyng,
He thankyd hym curtasly.
Spesyally the Kyng hym prayd,
The thre men that he strokes payd,
Wherefore it was and why.
He seyd: "I myght not com inwerd,
To I grantyd iche of them the thryd parte
Off that ye wold gyff me.
Be that I schuld have noght myselve;
To dele among theym strokys twelve
Me thought it best, trewly."
The lordes lewghe, both old and yenge,
And all that there wer wyth the Kyng,
They made solas inowghe
They lewghe, so thei myght not sytte;
They seyd: "It was a nobull wytte,
Be Cryst we make a vow."
The Kyng send after hys stewerd
And seyd: "And he grante the any reward,
Askyth it be the law."
The stewerd seyd and lukyd grym:
"I thynke never to have ado with hym;
I wold I had never hym knaw."
The Kyng seyd: "Withouten blame,
Tell me, gode man, what is thi name,
Before me anon ryght?"
"My lege," he seyd, "This man you tellys,
Som tyme men called me Sir Cleges;
I was your awne knyght."
"Arte thou my knyghht, that servyd me,
That was so gentyll and so fre,
Both strong, herdy and wyght?"
"Ye, lord," he seyd, "so mote I the,
Tyll God Allmyght hath vyset me;
Thus poverté hath my dyght."
The Kyng gaffe hym anon ryght
All that longes to a knyght,
To aray hys body with.
The castell of Cardyff also
With all the pourtenans therto,
To hold with pes and grythe.
Than he made hym hys stuerd
Of all hys londys afterwerd,
Off water, lond and frythe.
A cowpe of gold he gafe hym blythe,
To bere to Dam Clarys hys wyfe,
Tokenyng of joy and myrthe.
The Kyng made hys son squyere
And gafe hym a colere forte were
With a hundryth pownd of rente.
When thei com home in this manere,
Dame Clarys, that lady clere,
Sche thankyd God verament.
Sche thankyd God of all maner,
Fore sche had both knyght and squyre
Somwhat to ther entente.
Upon the dettys that they hyght,
They payd als fast as thei myght,
To every man wer content.
A gentyll stewerd he was hold;
All men hym knew, yong and old,
In lond wer that he wente.
There fell to hym so grete ryches,
He vansyd hys kynne, mour and les,
The knyght curtas and hend.
Hys lady and he lyved many yere
With joy and mery chere,
Tyll God dyde fore them send.
Fore ther godnes, that thei dyd here,
There saulys went to Heven clere,
There is joy withouten ende.
hear; (see note)
Of ancestors; (see note)
hardy; strong; (see note)
Uther Pendragon; (see note)
handsome; to look upon; (see note)
called; (see note)
stronger; in time of need
virtuous (lawful); (see note)
high stature; (see note)
More courteous; (see note)
struggled in wartime
gave; fee; (see note)
nourish (cheer up); (see note)
quarrel with nor punish; (see note)
Meek (humble); maid; (see note)
more beautiful; (see note)
was called; (see note)
almsgivers; (see note)
friars; (see note)
On account of them; lost; (see note)
Christmas; (see note)
royal; (see note)
where; (see note)
their delight; (see note)
go without gifts
[For] ten or; they; (see note)
who rules all; (see note)
died; Rood (Cross)
But then; fortune; fall away; (see note)
manors as security; put up
commoner; (see note)
to tell the truth
but little left
Though; goods; nearly lost
defray the expense (redeem him)
royal estate; frittered away
Until; manors were
Scarcely; live; (see note)
Fell away; (see note)
dwell; (see note)
a great moan
i.e., in the region of; (see note)
noon; (see note)
into a swoon suddenly; (see note)
joy; could have
Tenancies; extensive property; (see note)
wrung; wept sorrowfully
Utterly gone; (see note)
Pitifully sighing; sound
diverse; (see note)
trumpeters, pipers; drummers
harpers' music; cythernists'; (see note)
citole; psaltery; (see note)
carols; dancing; (see note)
Everywhere he heard singing
Great moan; there
Out of nothing
for; sending (message)
neither wild nor domestic game
Whoever desires; man's food; (see note)
Because of; withhold
companion; (see note)
hear; complain about
counsel to desist
our dinner eagerly
to your liking
then; (see note)
Whenever; anxiety; (see note)
they drove; day
their children play they did
At an appropriate time
They slept until [the bell]
For the discretion (choice, resolve); (see note)
Gracious; (see note)
on his behalf
done; home they went
They; (see note)
quickly; (see note)
[who] suffer; (see note)
on his knee; (see note)
reached for a bough with his hand
help him rise; stand up
Green leaves; found; (see note)
berries in abundance
kind of berries might these
trees should bear any fruit
taste; if; could
As; released clean; (see note)
bough; to cut off
I am afraid; omen; (see note)
more grievance; coming
Of more goodness
less or; more
Let us fill a basket
Such; have there; (see note)
we shall fare better
As you advise
morrow, i.e., next day
basket prepared; (see note)
on your back easily
Nothing but; hackney
In the manner of poverty
were preparing for dinner
Just as he was
scornfully; (see note)
remove yourself promptly
break your head
stand in the beggars' class; (see note)
any further inward
so [thoroughly] beat you
From; out of nothing; (see note)
Quickly; lid; lifted
unless you grant
Of whatever; will give you
[The porter]; permission
He entered a great hallway
officer; door; (see note)
beat you; limb
If you advance any further
false or true
usher; lifted; promptly
fairest cherries; saw
You; during the feast
Unless; refusal; (see note)
said no other word
But; agreed immediately
It would be no other way
steward started forth quickly
Who wore rich clothing
before you were invited
Instantly, I advise you
came; immediately; (see note)
plucked up; swiftly
As quickly; might
come no nearer
By Him who
thought to himself
trouble; get nothing; (see note)
He [the steward]; Harlot; tongue; (see note)
beat you; (see note)
ribs into your back
shove you out headfirst
were in agreement
novelty (i.e., something new)
without fail; (see note)
avail him well
Soon thereafter; commanded
As soon as
knew; payment; lost
you have given
Whatever you want
land or people
Grant mercy liege
a great honor
Were you to grant me land or holdings
But if I might choose [for] myself
own granting; (see note)
vexed; sorely grieved; (see note)
blows; paid; (see note)
down like a block
fiercely; (see note)
By my good luck; (see note)
as I promised you
laid on him
broke in two
seated; chamber; (see note)
Joy; revelry; hear
told a story; (see note)
According to his desire
It's long been thought; dead
Whom; very much
I wish to God
would rather have him
staunch in battle
Specially; inquired of him about
laughed; young; (see note)
laughed [so hardily]; sit
want nothing to do
wish; known him
so might I thrive
Thereafter; has been my lot
appurtenances; (see note)
land; royal forest
As a token
collar to wear; (see note)
in every way
advanced; (see note)
Until; sent for them
good works; on earth
Their souls; shining
Where there; (see note)