Part 22

Crist wroghte ferst and after tawhte, So that the dede his word arawhte; He yaf ensample in his persone, And we the wordes have al one, Lich to the Tree with leves grene, Upon the which no fruit is sene. 1830

The Priest Thoas, which of Minerve The temple hadde forto serve, And the Palladion of Troie Kepte under keie, for monoie, Of Anthenor which he hath nome, Hath soffred Anthenor to come And the Palladion to stele, Wherof the worschipe and the wele Of the Troiens was overthrowe. Bot Thoas at the same throwe, 1840 Whan Anthenor this Juel tok, Wynkende caste awei his lok For a deceipte and for a wyle: As he that scholde himself beguile, He hidde his yhen fro the sihte, And wende wel that he so mihte Excuse his false conscience. I wot noght if thilke evidence Nou at this time in here estatz Excuse mihte the Prelatz, 1850 Knowende hou that the feith discresceth And alle moral vertu cesseth, Wherof that thei the keies bere, Bot yit hem liketh noght to stere Here gostliche yhe forto se The world in his adversite; Thei wol no labour undertake To kepe that hem is betake. Crist deide himselve for the feith, Bot nou our feerfull prelat seith, 1860 “The lif is suete,” and that he kepeth, So that the feith unholpe slepeth, And thei unto here ese entenden And in here lust her lif despenden, And every man do what him list. Thus stant this world fulfild of Mist, That noman seth the rihte weie: The wardes of the cherche keie Thurgh mishandlinge ben myswreynt, The worldes wawe hath welnyh dreynt 1870 The Schip which Peter hath to stiere, The forme is kept, bot the matiere Transformed is in other wise. Bot if thei weren gostli wise, And that the Prelatz weren goode, As thei be olde daies stode, It were thanne litel nede Among the men to taken hiede Of that thei hieren Pseudo telle, Which nou is come forto duelle, 1880 To sowe cokkel with the corn, So that the tilthe is nyh forlorn, Which Crist sew ferst his oghne hond. Nou stant the cockel in the lond, Wher stod whilom the goode grein, For the Prelatz nou, as men sein, Forslowthen that thei scholden tile. And that I trowe be the skile, Whan ther is lacke in hem above, The poeple is stranged to the love 1890 Of trouthe, in cause of ignorance; For wher ther is no pourveance Of liht, men erren in the derke. Bot if the Prelatz wolden werke Upon the feith which thei ous teche, Men scholden noght here weie seche Withoute liht, as now is used: Men se the charge aldai refused, Which holi cherche hath undertake.

Bot who that wolde ensample take, 1900 Gregoire upon his Omelie Ayein the Slouthe of Prelacie Compleigneth him, and thus he seith: “Whan Peter, fader of the feith, At domesdai schal with him bringe Judeam, which thurgh his prechinge He wan, and Andrew with Achaie Schal come his dette forto paie, And Thomas ek with his beyete Of Ynde, and Poul the routes grete 1910 Of sondri londes schal presente, And we fulfild of lond and rente, Which of this world we holden hiere, With voide handes schul appiere, Touchende oure cure spirital, Which is our charge in special, I not what thing it mai amonte Upon thilke ende of oure accompte, Wher Crist himself is Auditour, Which takth non hiede of vein honour.” 1920 Thoffice of the Chancellerie Or of the kinges Tresorie Ne for the writ ne for the taille To warant mai noght thanne availe; The world, which nou so wel we trowe, Schal make ous thanne bot a mowe: So passe we withoute mede, That we non otherwise spede, Bot as we rede that he spedde, The which his lordes besant hedde 1930 And therupon gat non encress. Bot at this time natheles, What other man his thonk deserve, The world so lusti is to serve, That we with him ben all acorded, And that is wist and wel recorded Thurghout this Erthe in alle londes Let knyhtes winne with here hondes, For oure tunge schal be stille And stonde upon the fleisshes wille. 1940 It were a travail forto preche The feith of Crist, as forto teche The folk Paiene, it wol noght be; Bot every Prelat holde his See With al such ese as he mai gete Of lusti drinke and lusti mete, Wherof the bodi fat and full Is unto gostli labour dull And slowh to handle thilke plowh. Bot elles we ben swifte ynowh 1950 Toward the worldes Avarice; And that is as a sacrifice, Which, after that thapostel seith, Is openly ayein the feith Unto thidoles yove and granted: Bot natheles it is nou haunted, And vertu changed into vice, So that largesce is Avarice, In whos chapitre now we trete.

Mi fader, this matiere is bete 1960 So fer, that evere whil I live I schal the betre hede yive Unto miself be many weie: Bot over this nou wolde I preie To wite what the branches are Of Avarice, and hou thei fare Als wel in love as otherwise.

Mi Sone, and I thee schal devise In such a manere as thei stonde, So that thou schalt hem understonde. 1970

Dame Avarice is noght soleine, Which is of gold the Capiteine; Bot of hir Court in sondri wise After the Scole of hire aprise Sche hath of Servantz manyon, Wherof that Covoitise is on; Which goth the large world aboute, To seche thavantages oute, Wher that he mai the profit winne To Avarice, and bringth it inne. 1980 That on hald and that other draweth, Ther is no day which hem bedaweth, No mor the Sonne than the Mone, Whan ther is eny thing to done, And namely with Covoitise; For he stant out of al assisse Of resonable mannes fare. Wher he pourposeth him to fare Upon his lucre and his beyete, The smale path, the large Strete, 1990 The furlong and the longe Mile, Al is bot on for thilke while: And for that he is such on holde, Dame Avarice him hath withholde, As he which is the principal Outward, for he is overal A pourveour and an aspie. For riht as of an hungri Pie The storve bestes ben awaited, Riht so is Covoitise afaited 2000 To loke where he mai pourchace, For be his wille he wolde embrace Al that this wyde world beclippeth; Bot evere he somwhat overhippeth, That he ne mai noght al fulfille The lustes of his gredi wille. Bot where it falleth in a lond, That Covoitise in myhti hond Is set, it is ful hard to fiede; For thanne he takth non other hiede, 2010 Bot that he mai pourchace and gete, His conscience hath al foryete, And not what thing it mai amonte That he schal afterward acompte. Bote as the Luce in his degre Of tho that lasse ben than he The fisshes griedeli devoureth, So that no water hem socoureth, Riht so no lawe mai rescowe Fro him that wol no riht allowe; 2020 For wher that such on is of myht, His will schal stonde in stede of riht. Thus be the men destruid fulofte, Til that the grete god alofte Ayein so gret a covoitise Redresce it in his oghne wise: And in ensample of alle tho I finde a tale write so, The which, for it is good to liere, Hierafterward thou schalt it hiere. 2030

Whan Rome stod in noble plit, Virgile, which was tho parfit, A Mirour made of his clergie And sette it in the tounes ije Of marbre on a piler withoute; That thei be thritty Mile aboute Be daie and ek also be nyhte In that Mirour beholde myhte Here enemys, if eny were, With al here ordinance there, 2040 Which thei ayein the Cite caste: So that, whil thilke Mirour laste, Ther was no lond which mihte achieve With werre Rome forto grieve; Wherof was gret envie tho. And fell that ilke time so, That Rome hadde werres stronge Ayein Cartage, and stoden longe The tuo Cites upon debat. Cartage sih the stronge astat 2050 Of Rome in thilke Mirour stonde, And thoghte al prively to fonde To overthrowe it be som wyle. And Hanybal was thilke while The Prince and ledere of Cartage, Which hadde set al his corage Upon knihthod in such a wise, That he be worthi and be wise And be non othre was conseiled, Wherof the world is yit merveiled 2060 Of the maistries that he wroghte Upon the marches whiche he soghte. And fell in thilke time also, The king of Puile, which was tho, Thoghte ayein Rome to rebelle, And thus was take the querele, Hou to destruie this Mirour.

Of Rome tho was Emperour Crassus, which was so coveitous, That he was evere desirous 2070 Of gold to gete the pilage; Wherof that Puile and ek Cartage With Philosophres wise and grete Begunne of this matiere trete, And ate laste in this degre Ther weren Philosophres thre, To do this thing whiche undertoke, And therupon thei with hem toke A gret tresor of gold in cophres, To Rome and thus these philisophres 2080 Togedre in compainie wente, Bot noman wiste what thei mente. Whan thei to Rome come were, So prively thei duelte there, As thei that thoghten to deceive: Was non that mihte of hem perceive, Til thei in sondri stedes have Here gold under the ground begrave In tuo tresors, that to beholde Thei scholden seme as thei were olde. 2090 And so forth thanne upon a day Al openly in good arai To themperour thei hem presente, And tolden it was here entente To duellen under his servise. And he hem axeth in what wise; And thei him tolde in such a plit, That ech of hem hadde a spirit, The which slepende a nyht appiereth And hem be sondri dremes lereth 2100 After the world that hath betid. Under the ground if oght be hid Of old tresor at eny throwe, They schull it in here swevenes knowe; And upon this condicioun, Thei sein, what gold under the toun Of Rome is hid, thei wole it finde, Ther scholde noght be left behinde, Be so that he the halvendel Hem grante, and he assenteth wel; 2110 And thus cam sleighte forto duelle With Covoitise, as I thee telle. This Emperour bad redily That thei be logged faste by Where he his oghne body lay; And whan it was amorwe day, That on of hem seith that he mette Wher he a goldhord scholde fette: Wherof this Emperour was glad, And therupon anon he bad 2120 His Mynours forto go and myne, And he himself of that covine Goth forth withal, and at his hond The tresor redi there he fond, Where as thei seide it scholde be; And who was thanne glad bot he?

Upon that other dai secounde Thei have an other goldhord founde, Which the seconde maister tok Upon his swevene and undertok. 2130 And thus the sothe experience To themperour yaf such credence, That al his trist and al his feith So sikerliche on hem he leith, Of that he fond him so relieved, That thei ben parfitli believed, As thogh thei were goddes thre. Nou herkne the soutilete.

The thridde maister scholde mete, Which, as thei seiden, was unmete 2140 Above hem alle, and couthe most; And he withoute noise or bost Al priveli, so as he wolde, Upon the morwe his swevene tolde To themperour riht in his Ere, And seide him that he wiste where A tresor was so plentivous Of gold and ek so precious Of jeueals and of riche stones, That unto alle hise hors at ones 2150 It were a charge sufficant. This lord upon this covenant Was glad, and axeth where it was. The maister seide, under the glas, And tolde him eke, as for the Myn He wolde ordeigne such engin, That thei the werk schull undersette With Tymber, that withoute lette Men mai the tresor saufli delve, So that the Mirour be himselve 2160 Withoute empeirement schal stonde: And this the maister upon honde Hath undertake in alle weie. This lord, which hadde his wit aweie And was with Covoitise blent, Anon therto yaf his assent; And thus they myne forth withal, The timber set up overal, Wherof the Piler stod upriht; Til it befell upon a nyht 2170 These clerkes, whan thei were war Hou that the timber only bar The Piler, wher the Mirour stod,— Here sleihte noman understod,— Thei go be nyhte unto the Myne With pich, with soulphre and with rosine, And whan the Cite was a slepe, A wylde fyr into the depe They caste among the timberwerk, And so forth, whil the nyht was derk, 2180 Desguised in a povere arai Thei passeden the toun er dai. And whan thei come upon an hell, Thei sihen how the Mirour fell, Wherof thei maden joie ynowh, And ech of hem with other lowh, And seiden, “Lo, what coveitise Mai do with hem that be noght wise!” And that was proved afterward, For every lond, to Romeward 2190 Which hadde be soubgit tofore, Whan this Mirour was so forlore And thei the wonder herde seie, Anon begunne desobeie With werres upon every side; And thus hath Rome lost his pride And was defouled overal. For this I finde of Hanybal, That he of Romeins in a dai, Whan he hem fond out of arai, 2200 So gret a multitude slowh, That of goldringes, whiche he drowh Of gentil handes that ben dede, Buisshelles fulle thre, I rede, He felde, and made a bregge also, That he mihte over Tibre go Upon the corps that dede were Of the Romeins, whiche he slowh there.

Bot now to speke of the juise, The which after the covoitise 2210 Was take upon this Emperour, For he destruide the Mirour; It is a wonder forto hiere. The Romeins maden a chaiere And sette here Emperour therinne, And seiden, for he wolde winne Of gold the superfluite, Of gold he scholde such plente Receive, til he seide Ho: And with gold, which thei hadden tho 2220 Buillende hot withinne a panne, Into his Mouth thei poure thanne. And thus the thurst of gold was queynt, With gold which hadde ben atteignt.

Wherof, mi Sone, thou miht hiere, Whan Covoitise hath lost the stiere Of resonable governance, Ther falleth ofte gret vengance. For ther mai be no worse thing Than Covoitise aboute a king: 2230 If it in his persone be, It doth the more adversite; And if it in his conseil stonde, It bringth alday meschief to honde Of commun harm; and if it growe Withinne his court, it wol be knowe, For thanne schal the king be piled. The man which hath hise londes tiled, Awaiteth noght more redily The Hervest, than thei gredily 2240 Ne maken thanne warde and wacche, Wher thei the profit mihten cacche: And yit fulofte it falleth so, As men mai sen among hem tho, That he which most coveiteth faste Hath lest avantage ate laste. For whan fortune is therayein, Thogh he coveite, it is in vein; The happes be noght alle liche, On is mad povere, an other riche, 2250 The court to some doth profit, And some ben evere in o plit; And yit thei bothe aliche sore Coveite, bot fortune is more Unto that o part favorable. And thogh it be noght resonable, This thing a man mai sen alday, Wherof that I thee telle may A fair ensample in remembrance, Hou every man mot take his chance 2260 Or of richesse or of poverte. Hou so it stonde of the decerte, Hier is noght every thing aquit, For ofte a man mai se this yit, That who best doth, lest thonk schal have; It helpeth noght the world to crave, Which out of reule and of mesure Hath evere stonde in aventure Als wel in Court as elles where: And hou in olde daies there 2270 It stod, so as the thinges felle, I thenke a tale forto telle.

In a Cronique this I rede. Aboute a king, as moste nede, Ther was of knyhtes and squiers Gret route, and ek of Officers: Some of long time him hadden served, And thoghten that thei have deserved Avancement, and gon withoute; And some also ben of the route 2280 That comen bot a while agon, And thei avanced were anon. These olde men upon this thing, So as thei dorste, ayein the king Among hemself compleignen ofte: Bot ther is nothing seid so softe, That it ne comth out ate laste; The king it wiste, and als so faste, As he which was of hih Prudence, He schop therfore an evidence 2290 Of hem that pleignen in that cas, To knowe in whos defalte it was. And al withinne his oghne entente, That noman wiste what it mente, Anon he let tuo cofres make Of o semblance and of o make, So lich that no lif thilke throwe That on mai fro that other knowe: Thei were into his chambre broght, Bot noman wot why thei be wroght, 2300 And natheles the king hath bede That thei be set in prive stede. As he that was of wisdom slih, Whan he therto his time sih, Al prively, that non it wiste, Hise oghne hondes that o kiste Of fin gold and of fin perrie, The which out of his tresorie Was take, anon he felde full; That other cofre of straw and mull 2310 With Stones meind he felde also. Thus be thei fulle bothe tuo, So that erliche upon a day He bad withinne, ther he lay, Ther scholde be tofore his bed A bord upset and faire spred; And thanne he let the cofres fette, Upon the bord and dede hem sette. He knew the names wel of tho, The whiche ayein him grucche so, 2320 Bothe of his chambre and of his halle, Anon and sende for hem alle, And seide to hem in this wise: “Ther schal noman his happ despise; I wot wel ye have longe served, And god wot what ye have deserved: Bot if it is along on me Of that ye unavanced be, Or elles it be long on you, The sothe schal be proved nou, 2330 To stoppe with youre evele word. Lo hier tuo cofres on the bord: Ches which you list of bothe tuo; And witeth wel that on of tho Is with tresor so full begon, That if ye happe therupon, Ye schull be riche men for evere. Now ches and tak which you is levere: Bot be wel war, er that ye take; For of that on I undertake 2340 Ther is no maner good therinne, Wherof ye mihten profit winne. Now goth togedre of on assent And taketh youre avisement, For bot I you this dai avance, It stant upon youre oghne chance Al only in defalte of grace: So schal be schewed in this place Upon you alle wel afyn, That no defalte schal be myn.” 2350 Thei knelen alle and with o vois The king thei thonken of this chois: And after that thei up arise, And gon aside and hem avise, And ate laste thei acorde; Wherof her tale to recorde, To what issue thei be falle, A kniht schal speke for hem alle. He kneleth doun unto the king, And seith that thei upon this thing, 2360 Or forto winne or forto lese, Ben alle avised forto chese. Tho tok this kniht a yerde on honde, And goth there as the cofres stonde, And with assent of everichon He leith his yerde upon that on, And seith the king hou thilke same Thei chese in reguerdoun be name, And preith him that thei mote it have. The king, which wolde his honour save, 2370 Whan he hath herd the commun vois, Hath granted hem here oghne chois And tok hem therupon the keie. Bot for he wolde it were seie What good thei have, as thei suppose, He bad anon the cofre unclose, Which was fulfild with straw and stones: Thus be thei served al at ones. This king thanne in the same stede Anon that other cofre undede, 2380 Where as thei sihen gret richesse, Wel more than thei couthen gesse. “Lo,” seith the king, “nou mai ye se That ther is no defalte in me; Forthi miself I wole aquyte, And bereth ye youre oghne wyte Of that fortune hath you refused.” Thus was this wise king excused, And thei lefte of here evele speche And mercy of here king beseche. 2390

Somdiel to this matiere lik I finde a tale, hou Frederik, Of Rome that time Emperour, Herde, as he wente, a gret clamour Of tuo beggers upon the weie. That on of hem began to seie, “Ha lord, wel mai the man be riche Whom that a king list forto riche.” That other saide nothing so, Bot, “He is riche and wel bego, 2400 To whom that god wole sende wele.” And thus thei maden wordes fele, Wherof this lord hath hiede nome, And dede hem bothe forto come To the Paleis, wher he schal ete, And bad ordeine for here mete Tuo Pastes, whiche he let do make. A capoun in that on was bake, And in that other forto winne Of florins al that mai withinne 2410 He let do pute a gret richesse; And evene aliche, as man mai gesse, Outward thei were bothe tuo. This begger was comanded tho, He that which hield him to the king, That he ferst chese upon this thing: He sih hem, bot he felte hem noght, So that upon his oghne thoght He ches the Capoun and forsok That other, which his fela tok. 2420 Bot whanne he wiste hou that it ferde, He seide alowd, that men it herde, “Nou have I certeinly conceived That he mai lihtly be deceived, That tristeth unto mannes helpe; Bot wel is him whom god wol helpe, For he stant on the siker side, Which elles scholde go beside: I se my fela wel recovere, And I mot duelle stille povere.” 2430

Thus spak this begger his entente, And povere he cam and povere he wente; Of that he hath richesse soght, His infortune it wolde noght. So mai it schewe in sondri wise, Betwen fortune and covoitise The chance is cast upon a Dee; Bot yit fulofte a man mai se Ynowe of suche natheles, Whiche evere pute hemself in press 2440 To gete hem good, and yit thei faile.

And forto speke of this entaile Touchende of love in thi matiere, Mi goode Sone, as thou miht hiere, That riht as it with tho men stod Of infortune of worldes good, As thou hast herd me telle above, Riht so fulofte it stant be love: Thogh thou coveite it everemore, Thou schalt noght have o diel the more, 2450 Bot only that which thee is schape, The remenant is bot a jape. And natheles ynowe of tho Ther ben, that nou coveiten so, That where as thei a womman se, Ye ten or tuelve thogh ther be, The love is nou so unavised, That wher the beaute stant assised, The mannes herte anon is there, And rouneth tales in hire Ere, 2460 And seith hou that he loveth streite, And thus he set him to coveite, An hundred thogh he sihe aday. So wolde he more thanne he may; Bot for the grete covoitise Of sotie and of fol emprise In ech of hem he fint somwhat That pleseth him, or this or that; Som on, for sche is whit of skin, Som on, for sche is noble of kin, 2470 Som on, for sche hath rodi chieke, Som on, for that sche semeth mieke, Som on, for sche hath yhen greie, Som on, for sche can lawhe and pleie, Som on, for sche is long and smal, Som on, for sche is lyte and tall, Som on, for sche is pale and bleche, Som on, for sche is softe of speche, Som on, for that sche is camused, Som on, for sche hath noght ben used, 2480 Som on, for sche can daunce and singe; So that som thing to his likinge He fint, and thogh nomore he fiele, Bot that sche hath a litel hiele, It is ynow that he therfore Hire love, and thus an hundred score, Whil thei be newe, he wolde he hadde; Whom he forsakth, sche schal be badde. The blinde man no colour demeth, But al is on, riht as him semeth; 2490 So hath his lust no juggement, Whom covoitise of love blent. Him thenkth that to his covoitise Hou al the world ne mai suffise, For be his wille he wolde have alle, If that it mihte so befalle: Thus is he commun as the Strete, I sette noght of his beyete.

Mi Sone, hast thou such covoitise?

Nai, fader, such love I despise, 2500 And whil I live schal don evere, For in good feith yit hadde I levere, Than to coveite in such a weie, To ben for evere til I deie As povere as Job, and loveles, Outaken on, for haveles His thonkes is noman alyve. For that a man scholde al unthryve Ther oghte no wisman coveite, The lawe was noght set so streite: 2510 Forthi miself withal to save, Such on ther is I wolde have, And non of al these othre mo.

Mi Sone, of that thou woldest so, I am noght wroth, bot over this I wol thee tellen hou it is. For ther be men, whiche otherwise, Riht only for the covoitise Of that thei sen a womman riche, Ther wol thei al here love affiche; 2520 Noght for the beaute of hire face, Ne yit for vertu ne for grace, Which sche hath elles riht ynowh, Bot for the Park and for the plowh, And other thing which therto longeth: For in non other wise hem longeth To love, bot thei profit finde; And if the profit be behinde, Here love is evere lesse and lesse, For after that sche hath richesse, 2530 Her love is of proporcion. If thou hast such condicion, Mi Sone, tell riht as it is.

Min holi fader, nay ywiss, Condicion such have I non. For trewli, fader, I love oon So wel with al myn hertes thoght, That certes, thogh sche hadde noght, And were as povere as Medea, Which was exiled for Creusa, 2540 I wolde hir noght the lasse love; Ne thogh sche were at hire above, As was the riche qwen Candace, Which to deserve love and grace To Alisandre, that was king, Yaf many a worthi riche thing, Or elles as Pantasilee, Which was the quen of Feminee, And gret richesse with hir nam, Whan sche for love of Hector cam 2550 To Troie in rescousse of the toun,— I am of such condicion, That thogh mi ladi of hirselve Were also riche as suche tuelve, I couthe noght, thogh it wer so, No betre love hir than I do. For I love in so plein a wise, That forto speke of coveitise, As for poverte or for richesse Mi love is nouther mor ne lesse. 2560 For in good feith I trowe this, So coveitous noman ther is, Forwhy and he mi ladi sihe, That he thurgh lokinge of his yhe Ne scholde have such a strok withinne, That for no gold he mihte winne He scholde noght hire love asterte, Bot if he lefte there his herte; Be so it were such a man, That couthe Skile of a womman. 2570 For ther be men so ruide some, Whan thei among the wommen come, Thei gon under proteccioun, That love and his affeccioun Ne schal noght take hem be the slieve; For thei ben out of that believe, Hem lusteth of no ladi chiere, Bot evere thenken there and hiere Wher that here gold is in the cofre, And wol non other love profre: 2580 Bot who so wot what love amounteth And be resoun trewliche acompteth, Than mai he knowe and taken hiede That al the lust of wommanhiede, Which mai ben in a ladi face, Mi ladi hath, and ek of grace If men schull yiven hire a pris, Thei mai wel seie hou sche is wys And sobre and simple of contenance, And al that to good governance 2590 Belongeth of a worthi wiht Sche hath pleinli: for thilke nyht That sche was bore, as for the nones Nature sette in hire at ones Beaute with bounte so besein, That I mai wel afferme and sein, I sawh yit nevere creature Of comlihied and of feture In eny kinges regioun Be lich hire in comparisoun: 2600 And therto, as I have you told, Yit hath sche more a thousendfold Of bounte, and schortli to telle, Sche is the pure hed and welle And Mirour and ensample of goode. Who so hir vertus understode, Me thenkth it oughte ynow suffise Withouten other covoitise To love such on and to serve, Which with hire chiere can deserve 2610 To be beloved betre ywiss Than sche per cas that richest is And hath of gold a Milion. Such hath be myn opinion And evere schal: bot natheles I seie noght sche is haveles, That sche nys riche and wel at ese, And hath ynow wherwith to plese Of worldes good whom that hire liste; Bot o thing wolde I wel ye wiste, 2620 That nevere for no worldes good Min herte untoward hire stod, Bot only riht for pure love; That wot the hihe god above. Nou, fader, what seie ye therto?

Mi Sone, I seie it is wel do. For tak of this riht good believe, What man that wole himself relieve To love in eny other wise, He schal wel finde his coveitise 2630 Schal sore grieve him ate laste, For such a love mai noght laste. Bot nou, men sein, in oure daies Men maken bot a fewe assaies, Bot if the cause be richesse; Forthi the love is wel the lesse. And who that wolde ensamples telle, Be olde daies as thei felle, Than mihte a man wel understonde Such love mai noght longe stonde. 2640 Now herkne, Sone, and thou schalt hiere A gret ensample of this matiere.

To trete upon the cas of love, So as we tolden hiere above, I finde write a wonder thing. Of Puile whilom was a king, A man of hih complexioun And yong, bot his affeccioun After the nature of his age Was yit noght falle in his corage 2650 The lust of wommen forto knowe. So it betidde upon a throwe This lord fell into gret seknesse: Phisique hath don the besinesse Of sondri cures manyon To make him hol; and therupon A worthi maister which ther was Yaf him conseil upon this cas, That if he wolde have parfit hele, He scholde with a womman dele, 2660 A freissh, a yong, a lusti wiht, To don him compaignie a nyht: For thanne he seide him redily, That he schal be al hol therby, And otherwise he kneu no cure.

This king, which stod in aventure Of lif and deth, for medicine Assented was, and of covine His Steward, whom he tristeth wel, He tok, and tolde him everydel, 2670 Hou that this maister hadde seid: And therupon he hath him preid And charged upon his ligance, That he do make porveance Of such on as be covenable For his plesance and delitable; And bad him, hou that evere it stod, That he schal spare for no good, For his will is riht wel to paie.

The Steward seide he wolde assaie: 2680 Bot nou hierafter thou schalt wite, As I finde in the bokes write, What coveitise in love doth. This Steward, forto telle soth, Amonges al the men alyve A lusti ladi hath to wyve, Which natheles for gold he tok And noght for love, as seith the bok. A riche Marchant of the lond Hir fader was, and hire fond 2690 So worthily, and such richesse Of worldes good and such largesse With hire he yaf in mariage, That only for thilke avantage Of good this Steward hath hire take, For lucre and noght for loves sake, And that was afterward wel seene; Nou herkne what it wolde meene.

This Steward in his oghne herte Sih that his lord mai noght asterte 2700 His maladie, bot he have A lusti womman him to save, And thoghte he wolde yive ynowh Of his tresor; wherof he drowh Gret coveitise into his mynde, And sette his honour fer behynde. Thus he, whom gold hath overset, Was trapped in his oghne net; The gold hath mad hise wittes lame, So that sechende his oghne schame 2710 He rouneth in the kinges Ere, And seide him that he wiste where A gentile and a lusti on Tho was, and thider wolde he gon: Bot he mot yive yiftes grete; For bot it be thurgh grete beyete Of gold, he seith, he schal noght spede. The king him bad upon the nede That take an hundred pound he scholde, And yive it where that he wolde, 2720 Be so it were in worthi place: And thus to stonde in loves grace This king his gold hath abandouned. And whan this tale was full rouned, The Steward tok the gold and wente, Withinne his herte and many a wente Of coveitise thanne he caste, Wherof a pourpos ate laste Ayein love and ayein his riht He tok, and seide hou thilke nyht 2730 His wif schal ligge be the king; And goth thenkende upon this thing Toward his In, til he cam hom Into the chambre, and thanne he nom His wif, and tolde hire al the cas. And sche, which red for schame was, With bothe hire handes hath him preid Knelende and in this wise seid, That sche to reson and to skile In what thing that he bidde wile 2740 Is redy forto don his heste, Bot this thing were noght honeste, That he for gold hire scholde selle. And he tho with hise wordes felle Forth with his gastly contienance Seith that sche schal don obeissance And folwe his will in every place; And thus thurgh strengthe of his manace Hir innocence is overlad, Wherof sche was so sore adrad 2750 That sche his will mot nede obeie. And therupon was schape a weie, That he his oghne wif be nyhte Hath out of alle mennes sihte So prively that non it wiste Broght to the king, which as him liste Mai do with hire what he wolde. For whan sche was ther as sche scholde, With him abedde under the cloth, The Steward tok his leve and goth 2760 Into a chambre faste by; Bot hou he slep, that wot noght I, For he sih cause of jelousie.

Bot he, which hath the compainie Of such a lusti on as sche, Him thoghte that of his degre Ther was noman so wel at ese: Sche doth al that sche mai to plese, So that his herte al hol sche hadde; And thus this king his joie ladde, 2770 Til it was nyh upon the day. The Steward thanne wher sche lay Cam to the bedd, and in his wise Hath bede that sche scholde arise. The king seith, “Nay, sche schal noght go.” His Steward seide ayein, “Noght so; For sche mot gon er it be knowe, And so I swor at thilke throwe, Whan I hire fette to you hiere.” The king his tale wol noght hiere, 2780 And seith hou that he hath hire boght, Forthi sche schal departe noght, Til he the brighte dai beholde. And cawhte hire in hise armes folde, As he which liste forto pleie, And bad his Steward gon his weie, And so he dede ayein his wille. And thus his wif abedde stille Lay with the king the longe nyht, Til that it was hih Sonne lyht; 2790 Bot who sche was he knew nothing.

Tho cam the Steward to the king And preide him that withoute schame In savinge of hire goode name He myhte leden hom ayein This lady, and hath told him plein Hou that it was his oghne wif. The king his Ere unto this strif Hath leid, and whan that he it herde, Welnyh out of his wit he ferde, 2800 And seide, “Ha, caitif most of alle, Wher was it evere er this befalle, That eny cokard in this wise Betok his wif for coveitise? Thou hast bothe hire and me beguiled And ek thin oghne astat reviled, Wherof that buxom unto thee Hierafter schal sche nevere be. For this avou to god I make, After this day if I thee take, 2810 Thou schalt ben honged and todrawe. Nou loke anon thou be withdrawe, So that I se thee neveremore.” This Steward thanne dradde him sore, With al the haste that he mai And fledde awei that same dai, And was exiled out of londe.

Lo, there a nyce housebonde, Which thus hath lost his wif for evere! Bot natheles sche hadde a levere; 2820 The king hire weddeth and honoureth, Wherof hire name sche socoureth, Which erst was lost thurgh coveitise Of him, that ladde hire other wise, And hath himself also forlore.