# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 70

Layout 2
LXX
The crone, desirous to console Fair-Welcome’s grief and bitter dole, The Lover’s story doth relate, Who is for him disconsolate.
The chaplet If only you are brave and wise; For through my hands, by great surprise, The noblest gallant known on earth, Of fairest wit and greatest worth, And who with grace saluteth you Each time I see him passing through13280 The street, doth this fair chaplet send, As token from a loving friend. Most gladly, saith he, would he see Your face, and die right willingly, Nor care to know another day Of health, if only he might pay ​His court to you, and do your will, All other good he counts but ill. He swears by God and good saint Foy, That unto him the greatest joy13290 On earth would be to gain one smile Or word from you, therefor exile He’d count as nought though he should be To Pavia sent all nakedly. Reckless is he of all beside, If only he may near you bide.
The Author.
Whence comes it? Fair-Welcome straight desires to know What kindly hand would fain bestow On him the chaplet, for no will Hath he to take the gift, until13300 He knows the quarter whither sent Hath been this graceful compliment. Forthwith the harridan reveals The tale at full, nor aught conceals.
The Duenna.
’Tis from that youth, you know right well, Of whom you oft have heard me tell, And surely ’twas for his dear sake That Evil-Tongue foul war did make Against you—ah! vile child of vice! He’s gone—but not to paradise.13310 Full many a man hath he defamed, But now the fiends his soul have claimed. His death from fear of slander frees All men, none care for him two peas. ​And e’en should he again revive, Lover’s And reappear on earth alive, He could not injure you one whit, For I know more than he of it. The Lover’s merits Believe me then, this chaplet take, And wear it for the Lover’s sake.13320 He loves you well, oh doubt it not, With love that hath nor stain nor blot. And if he had an afterthought Thereon, he dared to tell me nought. Would he some thoughtless folly try, That may you easily deny; He who doth wrong must drink the brew, But trust in him, I counsel you. No fool is he, but staid and wise, And would nought wrong or base devise,13330 Therefore he hath my earnest love. Fear not that he so vile will prove, As dare to make to you a prayer But what the fiercest light will bear. Most loyal of all men is he, As all who keep his company Would gladly witness and confess. The very flower of gentleness Is he, nay, woman never bare A child of soul more passing fair,13340 And no man living ever heard Against him harsh or cruel word But from the lips of Evil-Tongue;
But what he said and what he sung Are now by all true men forgot, While he himself is left to rot. ​More than the half of what he said Have I forgotten, by my head, And do but know ’twas false and bad, It seemed as he an anvil had13350 For forging lies. The Lover’s generosity Had it but been Known to the Lover, well I ween That he had slain him, for none can Compare with this most noble man For knighthood. In his bounteous deeds Of largess he by far exceeds King Arthur, nay, his gifts are grander Than those of far-famed Alexander. Did he but own unbounded store Of gold, like those famed men of yore,13360 His bounties far would overgo Their gifts a hundred times I trow. Yea, did he wealth of goods possess To keep pace with his generousness, Most bounteous were be of all men. I pray you take this chaplet then, Its flowers are sweet as dittany.
The Author.
I fear ’twould bring ill hap to me, Fair-Welcome cried, whose very frame Trembled with fear, while went and came13370
The colour to his cheeks. She thrust The gift on him, as needs he must Accept it, though his hand away He turned, and said: Forgive me, pray, ​If I so fair a gift refuse, And my ungracious act excuse.
Yet fain would he the garland take, Whate’er might follow for its sake.
Fair- Welcome.
The chaplet refused Right fair the chaplet is, quoth he, But rather I, by far would see,13380 The clothes in which I stand afire Than take that which misfortune dire Most surely must bring down on me; What shall we say to Jealousy? I doubt me nowise that she’ll tear The flowers in fragments off my hair, And then, foul traitress, will outright Destroy me, or in cruel spite, Knowing from whom the prize I got, Thrust me in closer gaol to rot,13390 With suffering more severe than e’er Before hath been my lot to bear. And if I flee her cruel face, Where can I find safe hiding-place? Alas! my foe would soon contrive To take, and bury me alive, For many a one with hue and cry
Would follow me persistently— I’ll not receive it!
The Duenna.
Yes, you will,
Fair-Welcome.
But if she asks whence comes the prize?
The Duenna.
Oh! I can forge you twenty lies.
Fair-Welcome.
But if she question me amain. How shall I answer her again? If in her rage she cruelly Rebuke me, how shall I reply? I can but put her off, forsooth. With some fair plausible untruth. And I, if she thereof should know, Pain worse than death must undergo.13410
The Duenna.
What shall you say? If you have not A better tale, ’twere well I wot To say you had it straight from me, That would above suspicion be, And nought of blame would you receive For taking that I chose to give.