I am a kynge of hyȝ degré,
Ther xal non ben above me,
I have florens and fryhthis fre,
Parkys and powndes pleyne.
But goth to fynde that ȝe seche,
And yf ȝe knowe suche a leche,
And ȝe hym fynde, I ȝow beseche,
Comyth aȝen be me.
And I xal be bothe blythe and do bowne,
That alle worchep to hym be done,
With reverens I xal seke hym sone,
And honor hym on kne.
And, therfore, kynges, I ȝow pray,
Whan ȝe have don ȝour jurnay;
Come aȝen this same way.
The trewthe to me to telle.
Come and telle me as ȝe spede,
And I xal qwyte ryght wel ȝour mede,
With gold and tresour and ryche wede,
With furres ryche and wurth pelle.
Primus Rex. Kynge have good day,
I go my way,
To seche
Lord of myght,—
He xal be ryght
Oure leche.
Secundus Rex. Kynge fful sterne,
Be felde and ferne,
I goo
To sekyn a kynge,—
He takyth wonynge
In woo.
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