Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 75
LXXV
Herein examples may you see
Of Nature’s power and subtlety.
The captive bird
The bird which from the wood is lured,
Captured, and in gay cage immured,
Tended with gentle love and care,
And fed with choice and dainty fare,
With pleasant song our ear enchants,
But yet one thing doth lack, it pants14660
Once more to flit among the boughs
And branches which so well it knows
And where ’twould once more gladly be.
In vain you nurse it tenderly,
Ever it pineth to regain
That liberty whereof ’tis fain;
Its food it treads beneath its feet,
And ’gainst the bars its wings doth beat,
And up and down its prison goes
From daylight’s dawn till twilight’s close.14670
Seeking its passage to make good
Through door or window to the wood.
Women love liberty
And every woman doth possess
Within her that same restlessness,
Whatever her condition be,
Matron or maid; unceasingly
One only thought hath she in mind,
Which is, how she may some way find
Her ancient liberty to get,
Thereon, ’fore all, her heart is set.14680
And so it is with every wight
Who hath him in a cloister pight,
For so he feels repentance’ pang
That almost he for rage would hang
Himself, he hath but one desire,
Which burneth up his heart like fire;
He pants once more for liberty,
And vain the struggle findeth he
With change of frock to change his bent
For worldly pleasure;—sacrament14690
And holy vows are nought to him.
E’en so a foolish fish doth swim
Within a net, whose mouth is wide
For entry, but when once inside.
The netted fish
Shuts on him, and for evermore
A prisoner stays he, till ashore
He’s cast to die; but those without
Crowd round untroubled by a doubt
But what he hath great plenitude
Therein of leisure, peace, and food,14700
When they perceive him wheel and turn
As if content, and fain would learn
How they may likewise live at ease
With nought to do except appease
Their hunger, and the livelong day
They pass in seeking out some way
By which they too may enter in
And equal life of joyance win:
They vex and worry them to get
An entry to that envied net,14710
But once within, they must remain,
Escape past hope, repentance vain,
And they therein their lives must spend
Till friendly death brings welcome end.
So each bright youth to servitude
Doth go who takes the monkish hood,
For neither cowl, nor broad-brimmed hat,
Nor cloister gown, can smother that
Which Nature in his heart did plant,
And, unfulfilled, still leaves a want.14720
He’s worse than dead, for all his life
Is racked and torn by mental strife,
Or else with broken spirit he
Plays virtue ’gainst necessity.
Dame Nature lieth not, but still
His mind with bitter thoughts doth fill
Of freedom lost: Horace this thing
Saith well, ’tis worth remembering:
“Though any man should seize a fork,
To drive dame Nature from her work,14730
Beat her, and chase her out of doors,
She’ll quick return to pay old scores.”
What matters it? Do what you will,
Each living creature must fulfil
Its nature, and although you drive
It far, it will return and thrive;
Nature despiseth violence,
And hath of man-made law small sense:
And thus finds Venus fair excuse
When she from trammels breaketh loose;14740
And so it is with dames, I trow,
Who chafe beneath the marriage-vow.
Nature it is who draws them still
Towards freedom, or for good or ill,
And she so strong is that in vain
Men seek her power to curb and rein.
Example of the cat
If one should take, dear son, a cat
That ne’er had known of mouse or rat,
And feed him up most tenderly
With choicest meats, nor let him see14750
By any chance or rat or mouse,
Yet if should run across the house
Or one or other in his view,
Like bolt from bow he’ll ’scape from you
And snap it up, for Nature ’tis
Impelleth him thereto ywis;
He’ll rather hunt a mouse than sate
His maw with morsels delicate,
For ’twixt the twain can never be
Treaty of peace and amity.14760
Example of the horse
Or if a new-foaled colt you rear,
So that he ne’er beholds a mare
Till he becomes a full-grown steed
For bit and saddle good at need;
A jennet comes within his sight,
At once he neighs with proud delight,
And speedeth madly o’er the field,
Unless he needs to rein must yield.
Not only black steed seeks a black,
But brown, or grey as soon will back,14770
Or roan, or any other strain,
Unless he’s held by bridle-rein.
He troubles not to spy around,
But gaily takes them as they’re found,
And in succession serves them all,
If but the chance to him befall.
So with a little chestnut mare,
Unless she be restrained with care,
She’ll seek brown, grey, and black in turns
E’en as desire within her burns;14780
The first one that her fancy takes,
Husband of him she straightway makes.
And what of horse and mare, I say,
Whether black, brown, or roan, or grey,
Is likewise true of bull and cow,
And eke of ram and ewe, I trow,
For rest assured that each of these
Of either sex make free to please
And suit themselves, as e’en they may,
With spouse at will from day to day.14790
Bold avowal
So is it, by my soul, I swear,
Fair son, with every human pair,
Although the law doth claim of right
To check somewhat the appetite.
Somewhat! methinks, a deal too much,
For when folk fall within the clutch
Of law, it bids that each shall cling
To each in every mortal thing,
And husband seek his wife alone,
And she be his both flesh and bone,14800
And both shall each to other give
Themselves, unchanging while they live;
Yet each, forsooth, doth long to be
From all restraint and bondage free.
And those who view this thing with clear
Impartial eye will know ’tis fear
And shame alone that hold folk back,
Who else would tread in Nature’s track,
And, like the cattle, follow sense:
Thereof I’ve had experience14810
Myself, for I would give away
My love to any day by day.
And had I not been cowed by shame,
Which curbs the will of many a dame,
When through the town I marching went
(Which none could hinder or prevent),
So decked and dizened, all might know
The part I played, from outward show,
And saw well-liking varlets cast
Soft looks upon me as I passed14820
(Good Lord! what tremors through me ran
Exchanging glances with a man),
Not one, but all would I embrace,
Could I but find fit time and place;
Giving to each in turn his due
Had I been equal thereunto;
And each had will, as I believe,
In turn my favours to receive:
All men faithless
Prelate or monk except I not,
Nor knight, nor canon, sage or sot,14830
Burgess or friar, within my fold
All would I take, if not too old.
Religion they’d have cast aside,
Except they feared to be denied
When they should court me. If that they
Had only understood my way
Of thinking, as of women all,
Such fear they ne’er had let befall
Their hearts. Each one, had they dared,
I trow, had readily declared14840
Their wedlock void, that they to me
Might give themselves all utterly,
Religion spurning, and despite
Of oath or honour, faith or right,
Except perchance, ’twere some poor fool,
Who ne’er had let his love grow cool
For her whose heart he’d gained in youth.
Such one would courteously, forsooth,
Decline my love and turn to her
His well-beloved sweet comforter.14850
But lovers of that sort are rare.
By God and Saint Amand I swear,
If only opportunity
Of time and place were given to me
To talk with such an one on love,
If lies or truth his tongue should move
And whether he lay or churchman were,
Or regular or secular,
Cinctured with girdle grey or red,
Or hood or hat bedecked his head,14860
He should right soon declare his flame,
Whether in me he saw the same
To burn, or only deemed a whim
I had myself to yield to him.
Nature for ever busies her.
Desire in all men’s hearts to stir,
Mars and Venus
Therefore, dear son, should we be slow
Venus and Mars to blame, I trow.
And though the Gods in mockery laughed
To see the pair by Vulcan’s craft14870
Ensnared, yet many a one full fain
Had been, could he the place have ta’en
Of Mars, in Venus’ fond embrace,
While Vulcan, mad with his disgrace,
Two thousand marks had rather given
Than cuckold stand before high heaven.
The pair he thus exposed to shame,
Reckless of scorn henceforth became,
And boldly practised that which they
Strove erst to hide from light of day,14880
Shame and decorum cast aside.
And then the Gods told far and wide
The tale, till all through heaven ’twas known,
From mouth to mouth mid laughter thrown.
And Vulcan stormed with rage to think
The draught he brewed he needs must drink,
Since for his folly nought could he
Find balsam, salve, or remedy.
Rather than trap the twain, indeed,
’Twere wiser to have given no heed,14890
But silently resolve in mind
To be to Venus’ failings blind.
So long as she towards him behaved
With kindness, granting all he craved.
Folly of Jealousy
From this, let no man e’er forget
That grievous folly ’tis to set
A trap whereby a wife may be
Convicted of inconstancy;
For if she find her thus exposed,
The door of virtue feels she closed14900
Behind her, and the unhappy wretch,
Whom evil-eyed suspicions stretch
Upon the rack, when he hath caught
His wife, shall ne’er again know aught
Of peace or happiness, but die
(Continued from l. 14550)
The prey of cruel Jealousy.]
But she, forsooth, doth merely make
Pretence of jealousy to wake
His anger, and yet cause that he
With love may burn more ardently.14910
And if he parry not the stroke,
But saith, her anger to provoke,
’Tis true he hath another friend;
Then she, with view to gain her end,
Should cry: No button doth she care,
What is his other love to her?
For knows she all the while that he
Thereto entends not seriously.
A woman’s sense
Then in her turn will she, with mind
More closely round his heart to wind14920
Her toils, pretend some other is
More suited to her taste, ywis,
And fain of him would she be quit,
Exclaiming: ’Tis but right and fit,
Since I am cuckolded by you,
That our old love were broken through.
Is it surprising if I wish
We both should eat from out one dish?
And then shall he be vexed above
All measure, if so be he love14980
Her fondly, reft his chief delight;
For no man feels love’s flame burn bright
Within his breast, but’s racked with dread,
Lest horns, perchance, adorn his head.
Then, as if some wild beast gave chase,
The chambermaid, with fear-struck face,
Runs in, and cries: Alas! we’re lost,
The master hath this moment crossed
The fore-court! When the damsel hears
This cry, her face wild terror wears,14940
While she her gallant thrusteth in
To some dark cupboard, chest, or bin,
Whence, when the proper time arrive,
She lets him out, more dead than ’live.
And he, who anxiously doth wait
Until she comes to liberate
Him once again, by dire despair
And fear is torn while crouching there.
A lover tricked
Then, if it prove some new-lit flame,
To whom, incautiously, the dame,14950
Hath given untimely rendezvous,
She’ll quick determine what to do;
And while she keeps the one close hid,
The later comer will she bid
Welcome in some small chamber near,
And grant the grace he seeks of her,
But let him know he must away
Forthwith, howe’er he beg to stay,
And though with rage and grief he cry,
Boldly to him will she reply:14960
Hence! hence! delay behoveth not,
For I within the house have got
My husband and my cousin kin,
And were you found by them herein,
I swear, by God and Saint Germain,
I ne’er should see your face again;
Another time I’ll gladly make
You welcome till the morning break,
But stay not now, nor hesitate,
My presence all those folk await.14970
The house of him she needs must clear,
For till he goes she’s racked with fear.
And then must she return in haste
To where the other one doth waste
His hour in terror, lest that he
Be dragged forth ignominiously;
And freeing him from where he’s hid,
For consolation doth she bid
Him welcome to her loving arms,
As solace for his past alarms;14980
But, ere permitting all he will,
Into his mind doth she instil
A sense of what great risks she’s run,
And fearsome dangers undergone,
While she of madness doth accuse
Herself, who thus by artful ruse
Deceives her husband, e’en while she
Doth wrong herself exceedingly.
Danger heightens pleasure
And, by her father’s soul she swears
That this adventure which she dares14900
To pleasure him doth cost too dear,
Although, God wot, they’ve less to fear
Within her room than those who go
To sport in fields ’neath vines arow,
But pleasure all the more ’tis spiced
With danger is more highly prized.
And whensoe’er they come to lie
Together in their secresy,
’Tis well that she exclude the light
From every casement, lest he might15000
Upon her body spy some spot
Or blemish, when right well I wot
Forth from her chamber would he go
As bolt or arrow shot from bow.
[Pass eighteen lines, they nought avail
To make, but rather mar the tale.]
And should they twixt themselves agree
That, opportune ’twould sometimes be
For her in turn to make repair
To where he dwells, she’ll take good care15010
So to arrange that somewhat late
She comes, for if she makes him wait
Awhile, she doth but fan the fire
Of anxious unfulfilled desire,
The game of love, I scarce need say.
But winneth zest by short delay.
And little joy the heart doth reap
From pleasure it may win good cheap.
False fears
But when she comes within the house
And finds reception amorous,15020
She then should vow, with signs of fear,
How that her jealous spouse anear
Hath watched her, and she dreads to think
What bitter draught she needs must drink,
So soon as she again doth come
Beneath his tyrant hand at home.
But howsoe’er she plain and sigh,
Whether she speak the truth or lie,
A parlous fear should she dissemble,
And, dreading nought, seem all atremble,15030
For this will much the joy enhance
Betwixt them of soft dalliance.
But if to him she cannot fare
Nor bid him to her home doth dare,
So close a watch her jealous spouse
Maintains both in and out the house,
To free her she must cause to wink
His wakeful eyes ’neath well-spiced drink,
And if he fail to nod ’neath wine,
Herbs should she with his drink combine,15040
Or mix with food (but in such wise
That nought of danger thence arise),
And then shall he so soundly sleep
As neither watch nor ward to keep,
And she at leisure may fulfil,
Unlet or hindered, all her will.
If lackeys hath she, let her heed
That this and that one forth she speed
While coin, if wisely on them spent,
Will greatly help her fond intent.15050
Or if she fears lest they should know
Her secret, make them drunk also.
The bagnio
Or to her husband may she say:
“I feel quite out of health to-day,
Some fever, gout, or inward grief,
Affecteth me past all belief;
Our baths are useless, I must hie
Me towards the bagnio presently;
A vapour bath alone can give
Me ease, if you would have me live.”15060
Though for a while the wretch delay
Consent, at last she gets her way;
For when he hath with sorry face
Pondered thereon, with wry grimace
He yields though of his shame afraid.
Then goes she with her chambermaid,
Or else some friendly neighbour, who
Knows well what ’tis her will to do,
Or some companion hath perchance
With whom she carries on love’s dance.15070
Then to the bagnio will she speed,
Though to the baths she gives small heed,
Or else perhaps the bathhouse shuns
And to her swain’s embraces runs.
Unless indeed between them ’twere
Agreed that they a bath should share,
For should he knowledge gain that she
Comes there, there also will he be.
No man a woman can protect
Who for herself hath no respect.15080
Yea, e’en was Argus overmatched
Though with his hundred eyes he watched,
Whereof one moiety he kept
Wide open while the other slept,
For therefore Mercury was sped
By Jove to shear off Argus’ head,
Fair Io to revenge I trow,
Whom he transformed had to a cow.
Futile his watch—a heavy yoke
Bears he who meddles with such folk.15090
Love-potions useless
But let a woman note this well:
Whatever clerks or laymen tell
Let her no idle tales believe
(Which none but fools as truth receive)
Of sorcerers and enchanters dire,
Or witches dancing round the fire,
E’en though they might surpass the fancy
Of Helenus in necromancy
And second-sight, nor let her think
That she by potions and charmed drink15100
Can draw some lover to her side
Who from his faith hath wandered wide.
Ne’er could Medea win again
False Jason, he of Glauce fain;
Nor could wise Circe’s magic art
Control Ulysses’ wandering heart.
A woman’s gifts
Most careful should a woman be,
Though she a man loves tenderly,
Gifts to forbear of value great:
A pillow soft and delicate,15110
A purse, a handkerchief, or hood,
Not costly, though fair made and good,
A silken lace, a belt to clasp
His waist with inexpensive hasp.
Or pretty pocket-knife of steel,
Or scarf fine wove, and soft to feel,
Such as are made by cloistered nuns.
But give not to those holy ones
Your love, for women secular
In such affairs are safer far.15120
More free are they to do whate’er
They fancy, and on hand they bear
Their friends or spouses as they please,
But costly both are those and these;
Yet deem I, should I judge the twain,
That nuns cost most with no more gain.
But women’s gifts will men of sense
Receive with doubt and diffidence,
For all too often are they nought
But traps whereby fond fools are caught;15130
And ’gainst their nature women sin,
Who seek by gifts men’s love to win.
Largess is better left to men;
Women but compass mischief when
They give great gifts; I’ve noticed oft
The devil made our hearts too soft.
But nought it matters—few are they
Of women who give much away.
The gifts that I have named to you,
Fair son, are such as well will do15140
The fools to cozen, cheat, and gull,
Of which, good Lord, the world’s brimfull.
Forget not old age
All that is given to you, hold fast,
Remembering youth will soon be past,
For on us creepeth, day by day,
Old age which none can let or stay.
Take care to garnish well your purse,
For thus may you avoid the curse
That surely falls on all folk left
In age’s cave, of goods bereft.15150
Get wealth, for men of starveling need
Are valued not one mustard seed.
Alas! poor fool! that I did not
Practise what now I preach, God wot!
All the fair gifts that came to me
From those who loved me follily,
As readily I gave again
To men of whom my heart was fain,
And gifts have brought me in old age
To eat the bread of vassalage;15160
The flight of time ne’er troubled me,
And hence, alas! my misery.
Of poverty had I no dread.
But as time came e’en so it sped,
All that I gat I freely spent,
’Twas lightly won and lightly went;
Yea, by my soul I might have been,
If prudent, wealthy as a queen,
For many a rich man at my feet
Had I, when gentle, young, and sweet,15170
And held them fast within my snare.
Infatuation
By God and St. Thibaud I swear
That all I had amassed I gave
Unto a false and traitorous knave,
Who pleased me above all, though he
Put me to shame most cruelly:
My love, I many another called,
But he ’fore all my heart enthralled;
Alas! though tender, true, and keen
My love, he prized me not a bean.15180
Ah! then to what disgrace I fell!
The villain made my life a hell,
Entreated me with foul disgrace,
And called me strumpet ’fore my face.
A woman am I and no more,
And woman’s judgment-wit is poor.
The man who loved me, loved I not,
But him who did my features blot
With blows, and beat me with his fist,
Adored I, and that foul hand kissed.15190
The more he beat me, all the more
My heart felt to its very core
Fond love of him. So well his peace
He made, that soon another lease
Of love I gave him, though my back
And bosom beat he blue and black
With ugly bruises, and no trace
Of beauty left he on my face,
Till I to him for mercy cried,
And then when he repentant sighed15200
(Of loving favours once more fain),
The wretch, who held my life amain
Within his power, so deftly spake,
That I permitted him to make
His peace within my arms, for he
The game of love knew perfectly.
Ah! villain, traitor, perjured thief,
How fond my love! how keen my grief!
I cared to live for him alone,
And at his beck had freely gone15120
Across the seas; yea had he sped
To London, I had followèd.
A wastrel
So loved I him, so loved he me,
That each shamed each right recklessly,
And he in riotous display
All that I gave him cast away,
In taverns lording it at dice,
Deep sunk in every wildest vice,
And scorning any craft to learn
Whereby he might fair living earn,15220
Nor saw why he thereof should heed
While I supplied his wasteful need,
And well I knew the means whereby
To feed his lawless luxury.
For all the world my tenants were,
And what I gained with many a care
And deep disgrace, I showered on him,
While he indulged each caitiff whim.
No thought had he to pass the time
In aught but riot, vice, and crime,15230
And was of mouth so tender, it
Loved not to feel the needful bit.
But a drear season dawned at last,
The day of light-won gifts was past,
We begged our bread devoid of home,
Our goods not worth a hackle-comb.
No husband had I ever wed,
But hither came as I have said,
Torn, worn, and scratched with many a briar.
Walk warily
Most earnestly do I desire,15240
Fair son, that you should learn of me
Wisely to walk and warily.
And thus my sad experience
May to your youth be shield and fence.
For when your Rose is withered quite,
And raven locks exchanged for white,
Then will you lack the gifts that snow
On every side around you now.
The Author.
Thus the Duenna preached and prosed,
To which Fair-Welcome nought opposed,15250
But gladly gave the sermon ear,
Feeling of her less dread and fear
Than he had done in time gone by;
For now it seemed, assuredly,
That but for Jealousy’s ill-will
And those three porters who fulfil
Her hestings (three at least alive
Who still with mad endeavour strive
To hold the fort), but light it were
To take the stronghold unaware,15260
But yet he doubts that scarce can be.
While it is watched so studiously.
Evil-Tongue unregretted
The death of Evil-Tongue doth not
Cause unto them much grief, I wot:
For he within the place had made
Few friends, but each in turn betrayed
And slandered to foul Jealousy,
Past master of all falsehood, he.
Not one among the whole of them
Had given a wretched garlick stem15270
To save his life, except that dame
Perchance, whom I of late did name.
Upon her ear more sweetly fell
His slanders than a chapel bell,
And, her foul wretchedness, delight
Found, when his shalm piped hate and spite.
From her he hid no evil thing,
That he could through long memory bring
To light, if it might mischief do
And foul misfortune thence ensue.15280
But counted ’mong his worst of crimes
It was, that he would oftentimes
Declare for truth tales false and vile,
The which he would invent the while;
Or add to simple stories true
A fringe, which mean and base he knew,
And thus, confounding wrong with right,
Please Jealousy’s foul appetite,
For of a truth he all his life
Pastured on envy, hate, and strife.15290
For him no mass was said or sung,
When in the moat his corse was flung,
Nor did his friends his loss deplore,
For when their strength they reckoned o’er,
They judged they might the place defend,
Although five thousand men should spend
Their force thereon courageously.
The Three Porters.
Certes, cried they, but weak were we
If we should fail the fort to hold
Without this thief, this lying scold,15300
This traitor false, this felon dire,
God grant the master of hell fire
May harass and torment his soul!
On all men wrought he grief and dole.
The Author.
Though these proud words the porters sped,
Truth was it, whatsoe’er they said,
Great loss to them was Evil-Tongue.
When the Duenna had outsung
Her tale, Fair-Welcome took the word,
And spake as one who having heard15310
Discourse, knows how to gloss thereon.
Fair-Welcome.
Fair-Welcome’s reply
Madam, great honour have you done
To me in teaching me your art,
And therefor thank you from my heart,
But when you spake to me of love,
That bitter-sweet disease, above
My power it was to understand
Your meaning, but at second-hand,
Nor long I more thereof to learn.
When you describe how I might earn15320
Great wealth, thereto I can but say
I have enough, and fain the way
Would keep of gentle courtesy,
Which sweet and grateful is to me.
But devilish arts to magic due
Despise I, whether false or true.
Admit Fair-Welcome
As to the youth on whom such high
Praises you deign to multiply,
And in whose manners, ways, and face,
The fairest virtues find a place,15330
God grant that still in him they thrive.
Nor him, nor any man alive
I envy, nor indeed hath he
Hold on my love to high degree,
For though the chaplet that he sent
I took, thereby no more I meant
Of love than men mean when we hear
Them say: “God save you,” or “Good cheer;”
Or e’en as neighbours passing by:
“God bless you, friend,” politely cry.15340
Honour I give to him above
Most men, but no exceeding love;
Yet since he sent this chaplet fair,
And I accepted it, I swear
Nought else had pleased me half as much.
And since that his desire is such
To see me, let him come e’en now
And great will be my joy, I vow,
To see his face; but time must he
outwitted Choose when his foe, Dame Jealousy,15350
Goes hence, for greatly should I fear
Mishap if she should find him here,
And sorely dread that she may lack
Some thing or other, and turn back,
Though forth she pass, for ofttimes she
Returns all unexpectedly;
Then straight, with temper more than warm,
About my head she’d raise a storm.
Such hatred in her breast doth burn
Against me, that should she return15360
By chance, and find the lover here.
Though of all blame I might be clear.
My blood, past doubt by her, were shed.
And I alive dismemberèd.
The Author.
Then the Duenna readily:
The Duenna.
Jealousy outwitted
Nay, leave the care thereof to me;
Although that he were in the house.
With Jealousy the despitous.
So help me God and St. Remy,
More easily an ant’s egg she15370
Should find within a truss of hay,
Than one I hide from light of day
Herein, for every nook I know
Fair-Welcome.
To see him enter were I fain,
Quoth he, but trust he may refrain
From outrage or unseemliness.
The Duenna.
The Duenna consents
By body of God! thou dost express
Thyself, fair son, in wondrous wise:
A jewel art thou in mine eyes.15380
The Lover.
They ceased—no more was left to say,
And each one sped a different way,
Fair-Welcome to his chamber hied,
While the duenna must provide
For matters of the house. But when
Time, place, and season suited, then
The hag, with will the work to do
For which she gave her promise to
Fair-Welcome, down the stair of stone
Ran quickly, seeing him alone,15390
From out the tower, nor weary felt
Until she came to where I dwelt,
Hasting to tell me how I might
Get of Fair-Welcome speech and sight.
Then spake she as one wearied out.
The Duenna.
If I should bring to you, past doubt,
News that your heart to joyance lifts,
The Lover.
The Fair gifts! aye, verily, good store,
Rich robe and mantle fitted for15400
A queen, and hood with fur bedight,
And dainty boots, and hosen white,
If you but aid my cause;—then said
The entry granted
The hag that, well it were I sped
Me towards the tower, where I should see
Fair-Welcome, who awaited me;
But ere she flitted did explain
How best I might good entry gain.