e
Towardes love in no degree:
Bot in mi slep yit thanne I se
Somwhat in swevene of that me liketh,
Which afterward min herte entriketh,
Whan that I finde it otherwise.
So wot I noght of what servise 3300
That Slep to mannes ese doth.
Mi Sone, certes thou seist soth,
Bot only that it helpeth kinde
Somtyme, in Phisique as I finde,
Whan it is take be mesure:
Bot he which can no Slep mesure
Upon the reule as it belongeth,
Fulofte of sodein chance he fongeth
Such infortune that him grieveth.
Bot who these olde bokes lieveth, 3310
Of Sompnolence hou it is write,
Ther may a man the sothe wite,
If that he wolde ensample take,
That otherwhile is good to wake:
Wherof a tale in Poesie
I thenke forto specefie.
Ovide telleth in his sawes,
How Jupiter be olde dawes
Lay be a Mayde, which Yo
Was cleped, wherof that Juno 3320
His wif was wroth, and the goddesse
Of Yo torneth the liknesse
Into a cow, to gon theroute
The large fieldes al aboute
And gete hire mete upon the griene.
And therupon this hyhe queene
Betok hire Argus forto kepe,
For he was selden wont to slepe,
And yit he hadde an hundred yhen,
And alle alyche wel thei syhen. 3330
Now herkne hou that he was beguiled.
Mercurie, which was al affiled
This Cow to stele, he cam desguised,
And hadde a Pipe wel devised
Upon the notes of Musiqe,
Wherof he mihte hise Eres like.
And over that he hadde affaited
Hise lusti tales, and awaited
His time; and thus into the field
He cam, where Argus he behield 3340
With Yo, which beside him wente.
With that his Pype on honde he hente,
And gan to pipe in his manere
Thing which was slepi forto hiere;
And in his pipinge evere among
He tolde him such a lusti song,
That he the fol hath broght aslepe.
Ther was non yhe mihte kepe
His hed, the which Mercurie of smot,
And forth withal anon fot hot 3350
He stal the Cow which Argus kepte,
And al this fell f