t to prison fore/ and on the sercle aboue thempour was
wreton/ I make them live in misery/ that I see lyue dismesurably/ And
therfore hit apperteyneth to a Iuge to shewe to the peple for to drede
and doubte to doo eyull/ And hit apperteyneth to the gardes and officers
to doubte the Iuges and to do trewly their seruyces and offices And hit
apperteyneth to a prynce to menace the traytours and the malefactours of
right greuous paynes. And herof we fynde in the auncyent historyes of
cecylle that the kynge denys had a broder whom he louyd sore well/ But
allway where he wente he made heuy and tryste semblant/ And thus as they
wente bothe to gyder on a tyme in a chare/ ther cam agayn hem two poure
men wyth glad visage but in foule habite/ And y'e kynge anon as he sawe
them/ sprange out of his chare and resseyuyd them worshipfully with
grete reuerence/ wherfore his barons were not only ameruaylled but also
angry in their corages/ notwithstandynge fere and drede letted them to
demande hym the cause/ But they made his broder to demande the cause and
to knowe the certaynte/ And whan he had herde his broder saye to hym the
demande/ and that he was blessyd & also a kynge whiche was ryche and
full of delites & worshipis/ he demanded hym yf he wold assaye & knowe
the grace and beneurte of a kynge And his broder answerd y'e/ And that he
desired and requyred hit of hym/ and than the kinge comanded vnto alle
his fugettis that they shold obeye in alle thynges only vnto his broder
And than whan the oure of dyner cam and alle thynge was redy/ the broder
was sette at the table of the kynge And whan he sawe that he was seruyd
wyth right noble botelliers and other officers. And he herde the sownes
of musicque right melodious The kynge demanded hym than/ yf he supposid
y't he were benerous and blessid. And he answerd I wene well that I am
right well blessid and fortunat/ and that I haue well proued and fele
and am expert therof And than the kynge secretly made to be hanged ouer
his heed a sharp cuttynge swerde hangynge by an hors heer or a silken
threde so small that no man myght see hit where by hit henge/ and whan
he sawe his broder put no more his hand to the table/ ne had no more
regarde vnto his seruantes/ he sayd to hym why ete y'e not/ ar y'e not
blessid/ saye yf y'e fele ony thynge otherwyse than blessid and well/ And
he answerde for as moche as I see this sharp swerde hangynge so subtilly
and parillously ouer my hede I fele well that I am