Rest on me, my lord, and stay yourself;

14.21096The way seems tedious to your agèd limbs.

Nay, rest on me, kind friend, and stay thyself;

14.41098Thou art as old as I, but more kind.

Ah, good my lord, it ill befits that I

14.61100Should lean upon the person of a king.

But it fits worse that I should bring thee forth,

14.81102That had no cause to come along with me,

14.91103Through these uncouth paths and tireful ways,

14.101104And never ease thy fainting limbs a whit.

14.111105Thou hast left all -- ay, all -- to come with me,

14.121106And I, for all, have nought to guerdon thee.

Cease, good my lord, to aggravate my woes

14.141108With these kind words, which cut my heart in two

14.151109To think your will should want the power to do.

Cease, good Perillus, for to call me "lord,"

14.171111And think me but the shadow of myself.

That honorable title will I give

14.191113Unto my lord so long as I do live.

14.201114Oh, be of comfort, for I see the place

14.211115Whereas your daughter keeps her residence.

14.221116And, lo, in happy time the Cambrian prince

14.231117Is here arrived to gratify our coming.

Were I best speak or sit me down and die?

14.251121I am ashamed to tell this heavy tale.

Then let me tell it, if you please, my lord.

14.271123'Tis shame for them that were the cause thereof.

What two old men are those that seem so sad?

14.291125Methinks I should remember well their looks.

No, I mistake not, sure it is my father.

14.311127[Aside] I must dissemble kindness now of force.

14.321129Father, I bid you welcome, full of grief,

14.331130To see your grace used thus unworthily,

14.341131And ill-befitting for your reverend age

14.351132To come on foot a journey so indurable.

14.361133Oh, what disaster chance hath been the cause

14.371134To make your cheeks so hollow, spare, and lean? --

14.381135He cannot speak for weeping. For God's love, come,

14.391136Let us refresh him with some needful things

14.401137And at more leisure we may better know

14.411138Whence springs the ground of this unlooked-for woe.

Come, father; ere we any further talk,

14.431140You shall refresh you after this weary walk.

Comes he to me with finger in the eye

14.451142To tell a tale against my sister here,

14.461143Whom I do know he greatly hath abused?

14.471144And now, like a contentious crafty wretch,

14.481145He first begins for to complain himself,

14.491146Whenas himself is in the greatest fault.

14.501147I'll not be partial in my sister's cause,

14.511148Nor yet believe his doting vain reports,

14.521149Who, for a trifle, safely I dare say,

14.531150Upon a spleen is stolen thence away,

14.541151And here, forsooth, he hopeth to have harbor

14.551152And to be moaned and made on like a child.

14.561153But ere't be long, his coming he shall curse,

14.571154And truly say he came from bad to worse.

14.581155Yet will I make fair weather to procure

14.591156Convenient means, and then I'll strike it sure.