Disputend, in hire Latyn,

With that child Florentyn.

The messagers on knes hem sette,

And the seven wise thai grette,
In th' emperours bihelue,

And the child be himselue:
And seide that emperour het,

His sone that thai brinngge him sket,
To Rome toun, to his presens.
"Your trauail, and youre despens,
He wil aquite for ech a yer,
After that yhe worthi wer."
The messagers were welcome,
And bi the hond quik y-nome,
And at the mete tales hem telde,
What the sonne gan to helde.
Hout wente the maistres sevene,
And bihelden up toward hevene :

330

Thai seghe the constillacioun.

The wisest in that so was Katoun ;

340

He gan to loke in the mone,

And seide that him thought sone:

"Lordinges, he saide, for Godes sond,

To mi telling understond!

The emperour to ous had sent,

To brenge him his sone gent.
Yif we him bring biforn our lord,
He sterueth ate ferste word

That he schal in court speke!
Thanne he wil of ous be wreke,
To-draue ous, other to-hongi sone.

This I se wel in the mone."

The other said, withouten oth,
That Catoun hem saide soht.

Schild Florentin was lered in boke,
And, in a ster he gan to loke,
Whiche that sat next the mone;
And saide that him thoughte sone,
That he wist thourgh alle thing,

Of that sterre the toknyng.

Thanne saide the maistres to Florentin,

"What sextou, leue child, tharin ?”
He seide," Maistre, I schal wel liuen,
Yif I mai, this daies seuen,
Kepe me fram answering,
I mai live to god ending,
And sauve me to warisoun,
And you fram destruccioun."
The maistres han wel devise

350

360

The childes tale was god and wise.

370

Than seide master Bancillas,

"Here is now a ferli cas!

Counseil we al herupon;

Hou that we mai best don."

Than seide the schild," Saunz fail,

Ich you right wil counseil.

This seven daies I n'el nowt speke;
Nowt a word of mi mowht breke;
And

ye beth maistres gode and wise, In al this werld of mest prise;

Litel ye conne, par ma fai,

But echon of yo mai saue me a dai!
The aighteden dai, ich meselue,
So the ax pelt in the helue,

That schal hewe the wai atwo

That had wrout me this wo."
Than saide master Bancillas,

380

"So God me helpe, and Seint Nicholas,

I schal the waranti o dai!"

"And I," quath Catoun, " par ma fai,

Schal the warrant another also."

Alle the maistres speken tho,
Thai wald, [by] wit and resoun,
Saue the child fram destruccioun,
Fram schame, and fram vilani.
"Maistres, he saide, graunt merci!
Certes, hi[t] bihoveth so,
For I sschal tholi mochel wo,
Gret despit, and strong tourment,
But ye be queinte of argument!"

With this word, thai ben alle
Departed, and comen to halle,
And maked at ese the messagers,
With god semblant, and glade chers.

390

400

And whan hit com to time of night,

To riche bed thai were i-dight;
And Florentin the schild, also,
To his bed he gan to go;

And thought al night, her and ter,
Hou that he might be wis and wer
To overcome the emperice,

That he n'ere nowt i-holden nice.

The night passeth, the dai comen is;
The seuen maistres arisen, I wis.
The maistres, and the messagers,
Habbeth greithed here destrèrs,
And that schild, wel fair i-dight:
And went hem forht anon right.

Thai dede hem out of that gardin,

410

That is i-cleped "the bois of Seint Martin," 420

And here way toke to Rome.

The maistres here wai ayèn nome.

Tiding had th' emperour,

His sone com with gret hondur.

Anon he let a stede dight,

And rod him ayèn with mani a knight.

Whan he him seghth than was he blithe,

And kest him wel mani a sithe.

Knight, and erl, and mani baroun,
Kiste the emperour's sonn,

And ladde him, with gret noblais,
To th' emperour palais.

430

The emperice him wil honour,
Do him sonde into hire bour.
Scho ladde fram bour to bour,

And dede here mené make retour.

She schette the dore, and set him on benche.
Wil ye nou i-here of wommannes wrenche?
The emperice was queinte in dede,

And [in] hire wrenche, and in hire falshede. 440
Sche and the schild alone wer than ;

Was with hem non other man.

Be his side sche set hire fast,
On him sche gan her egghen kast,
And saide, "Mi leve suete grom,
Swithe welcome be thou hom !
I have i-cast to thè mi loue,
Of al worhtlich thing aboue.

Thi louerd, the emperour, is old;
Of kinde, of bodi he is cold.

I swere, bi sonne and bi

mone,

With me ne hadde he neuer to done;
But, for ich herde telle of thi pris,
That thou were honde, gentil, and wis,
For to haue with thè acord,

450

Ich am i-wedded to thi lord.

Kes me, leman, and loue me,

And I thi soget wil i-be.

So God me helpe, for he hit wot,

To the ich have i-kept mi maidenhod!"

460