^898.] SMYTH — PERICLES AND APOLLOXIUS. 253 



Fro deth to lyve areved ! 



Wher liys Tiophele ? hym moste y have." 



He stoud sire aferyd. 



" Madame, y am her at youre wille ! " 



He stod as he schulde sterve : 



" Sche tok me the to spille, 



Deonyse whom I serve." 



The citesaynes Strangulion toke, 



And hys wyf for hire trecherye, 



Out of the cite drowe wit hoke 



Into a place ther-inne to dye : 



They stened him wit stone, 



And so hy wolde Teophele also ; 



Tarse bygan him defende sone. 



To dethe he ne was nought do. 



And saide, ye yaf me grace 



To pray God Almyght, 



I schal him yeve lyves space. 



Ellys ye ne hadde ne never seye in sight ; 



Appolyn dwellede ther fourty dayes, 



And gaf grete giftes to alle men; 



And thennes sailede to Cirenen : 



Yut was hys ffader-in-lawe alyve, 



Archistrates the goud kyng, 



ffolk come ayeynes him so blyve. 



As eny myghte by other thryng ; 



They songe, daunsede, and were blythe. 



That were hy myhte that day y-seo, 



And thankede God a thousand sythe ; 



The king was gladdest, suyr be ye : 



Tho he saw hem alle byfore, 



His doughter and hys sone in lawe, 



And hys doughter so fair y-core, 



A kinges wyf, he was wel fawe : 



And her child ther also, 



Al clene of kings blod; 



Pie kuste them, he was glad tho ; 



But the olde king so goud 



He made hem dwelle al thoe yer. 



And deyde in hys doughter arm. — 



Wit gret gladnesse he deyde ther, 



If God nolde hit was harm. 



Tho nolde Appolyn nevere fyne 



Ar he hadde the ffischere sought, 



That yof him half hys sclaveyne, 



Tho he was firste to londe y- brought ; 



