Which he desireth most of alle. And whan the time is so befalle That Troie was destruid and brent, He made non delaiement, Bot goth him home in alle hihe, Wher that he fond tofore his yhe His worthi wif in good astat: And thus was cessed the debat 230 Of love, and Slowthe was excused, Which doth gret harm, where it is used, And hindreth many a cause honeste. For of the grete Clerc Grossteste I rede how besy that he was Upon clergie an Hed of bras To forge, and make it forto telle Of suche thinges as befelle. And sevene yeres besinesse He leyde, bot for the lachesse 240 Of half a Minut of an houre, Fro ferst that he began laboure He loste all that he hadde do. And otherwhile it fareth so, In loves cause who is slow, That he withoute under the wow Be nyhte stant fulofte acold, Which mihte, if that he hadde wold His time kept, have be withinne. Bot Slowthe mai no profit winne, 250 Bot he mai singe in his karole How Latewar cam to the Dole, Wher he no good receive mihte. And that was proved wel be nyhte Whilom of the Maidenes fyve, Whan thilke lord cam forto wyve: For that here oyle was aweie To lihte here lampes in his weie, Here Slowthe broghte it so aboute, Fro him that thei ben schet withoute. 260 Wherof, my Sone, be thou war, Als ferforth as I telle dar. For love moste ben awaited: And if thou be noght wel affaited In love to eschuie Slowthe, Mi Sone, forto telle trowthe, Thou miht noght of thiself ben able To winne love or make it stable, All thogh thou mihtest love achieve. Mi fader, that I mai wel lieve. 270 Bot me was nevere assigned place, Wher yit to geten eny grace, Ne me was non such time apointed; For thanne I wolde I were unjoynted Of every lime that I have, If I ne scholde kepe and save Min houre bothe and ek my stede, If my ladi it hadde bede. Bot sche is otherwise avised Than grante such a time assised; 280 And natheles of mi lachesse Ther hath be no defalte I gesse Of time lost, if that I mihte: Bot yit hire liketh noght alyhte Upon no lure which I caste; For ay the more I crie faste, The lasse hire liketh forto hiere. So forto speke of this matiere, I seche that I mai noght finde, I haste and evere I am behinde, 290 And wot noght what it mai amounte. Bot, fader, upon myn acompte, Which ye be sett to examine Of Schrifte after the discipline, Sey what your beste conseil is. Mi Sone, my conseil is this: Hou so it stonde of time go, Do forth thi besinesse so, That no Lachesce in the be founde: For Slowthe is mihti to confounde 300 The spied of every mannes werk. For many a vice, as seith the clerk, Ther hongen upon Slowthes lappe Of suche as make a man mishappe, To pleigne and telle of hadde I wist. And therupon if that thee list To knowe of Slowthes cause more, In special yit overmore Ther is a vice full grevable To him which is therof coupable, 310 And stant of alle vertu bare, Hierafter as I schal declare. Touchende of Slowthe in his degre, Ther is yit Pusillamite, Which is to seie in this langage, He that hath litel of corage And dar no mannes werk beginne: So mai he noght be resoun winne; For who that noght dar undertake, Be riht he schal no profit take. 320 Bot of this vice the nature Dar nothing sette in aventure, Him lacketh bothe word and dede, Wherof he scholde his cause spede: He woll no manhed understonde, For evere he hath drede upon honde: Al is peril that he schal seie, Him thenkth the wolf is in the weie, And of ymaginacioun He makth his excusacioun 330 And feigneth cause of pure drede, And evere he faileth ate nede, Til al be spilt that he with deleth. He hath the sor which noman heleth, The which is cleped lack of herte; Thogh every grace aboute him sterte, He wol noght ones stere his fot; So that be resoun lese he mot, That wol noght auntre forto winne. And so forth, Sone, if we beginne 340 To speke of love and his servise, Ther ben truantz in such a wise, That lacken herte, whan best were To speke of love, and riht for fere Thei wexen doumb and dar noght telle, Withoute soun as doth the belle, Which hath no claper forto chyme; And riht so thei as for the tyme Ben herteles withoute speche Of love, and dar nothing beseche; 350 And thus thei lese and winne noght. Forthi, my Sone, if thou art oght Coupable as touchende of this Slowthe, Schrif thee therof and tell me trowthe. Mi fader, I am al beknowe That I have ben on of tho slowe, As forto telle in loves cas. Min herte is yit and evere was, As thogh the world scholde al tobreke, So ferful, that I dar noght speke 360 Of what pourpos that I have nome, Whan I toward mi ladi come, Bot let it passe and overgo. Mi Sone, do nomore so: For after that a man poursuieth To love, so fortune suieth, Fulofte and yifth hire happi chance To him which makth continuance To preie love and to beseche; As be ensample I schal thee teche. 370 I finde hou whilom ther was on, Whos name was Pymaleon, Which was a lusti man of yowthe: The werkes of entaile he cowthe Above alle othre men as tho; And thurgh fortune it fell him so, As he whom love schal travaile, He made an ymage of entaile Lich to a womman in semblance Of feture and of contienance, 380 So fair yit nevere was figure. Riht as a lyves creature Sche semeth, for of yvor whyt He hath hire wroght of such delit, That sche was rody on the cheke And red on bothe hire lippes eke; Wherof that he himself beguileth. For with a goodly lok sche smyleth, So that thurgh pure impression Of his ymaginacion 390 With al the herte of his corage His love upon this faire ymage He sette, and hire of love preide; Bot sche no word ayeinward seide. The longe day, what thing he dede, This ymage in the same stede Was evere bi, that ate mete He wolde hire serve and preide hire ete, And putte unto hire mowth the cuppe; And whan the bord was taken uppe, 400 He hath hire into chambre nome, And after, whan the nyht was come, He leide hire in his bed al nakid. He was forwept, he was forwakid, He keste hire colde lippes ofte, And wissheth that thei weren softe, And ofte he rouneth in hire Ere, And ofte his arm now hier now there He leide, as he hir wolde embrace, And evere among he axeth grace, 410 As thogh sche wiste what he mente: And thus himself he gan tormente With such desese of loves peine, That noman mihte him more peine. Bot how it were, of his penance He made such continuance Fro dai to nyht, and preith so longe, That his preiere is underfonge, Which Venus of hire grace herde; Be nyhte and whan that he worst ferde, 420 And it lay in his nakede arm, The colde ymage he fieleth warm Of fleissh and bon and full of lif. Lo, thus he wan a lusti wif, Which obeissant was at his wille; And if he wolde have holde him stille And nothing spoke, he scholde have failed: Bot for he hath his word travailed And dorste speke, his love he spedde, And hadde al that he wolde abedde. 430 For er thei wente thanne atwo, A knave child betwen hem two Thei gete, which was after hote Paphus, of whom yit hath the note A certein yle, which Paphos Men clepe, and of his name it ros. Be this ensample thou miht finde That word mai worche above kinde. Forthi, my Sone, if that thou spare To speke, lost is al thi fare, 440 For Slowthe bringth in alle wo. And over this to loke also, The god of love is favorable To hem that ben of love stable, And many a wonder hath befalle: Wherof to speke amonges alle, If that thee list to taken hede, Therof a solein tale I rede, Which I schal telle in remembraunce Upon the sort of loves chaunce. 450 The king Ligdus upon a strif Spak unto Thelacuse his wif, Which thanne was with childe grete; He swor it scholde noght be lete, That if sche have a dowhter bore, That it ne scholde be forlore And slain, wherof sche sory was. So it befell upon this cas, Whan sche delivered scholde be, Isis be nyhte in privete, 460 Which of childinge is the goddesse, Cam forto helpe in that destresse, Til that this lady was al smal, And hadde a dowhter forth withal; Which the goddesse in alle weie Bad kepe, and that thei scholden seie It were a Sone: and thus Iphis Thei namede him, and upon this The fader was mad so to wene. And thus in chambre with the qweene 470 This Iphis was forthdrawe tho, And clothed and arraied so Riht as a kinges Sone scholde. Til after, as fortune it wolde, Whan it was of a ten yer age, Him was betake in mariage A Duckes dowhter forto wedde, Which Iante hihte, and ofte abedde These children leien, sche and sche, Whiche of on age bothe be. 480 So that withinne time of yeeres, Togedre as thei ben pleiefieres, Liggende abedde upon a nyht, Nature, which doth every wiht Upon hire lawe forto muse, Constreigneth hem, so that thei use Thing which to hem was al unknowe; Wherof Cupide thilke throwe Tok pite for the grete love, And let do sette kinde above, 490 So that hir lawe mai ben used, And thei upon here lust excused. For love hateth nothing more Than thing which stant ayein the lore Of that nature in kinde hath sett: Forthi Cupide hath so besett His grace upon this aventure, That he acordant to nature, Whan that he syh the time best, That ech of hem hath other kest, 500 Transformeth Iphe into a man, Wherof the kinde love he wan Of lusti yonge Iante his wif; And tho thei ladde a merie lif, Which was to kinde non offence. And thus to take an evidence, It semeth love is welwillende To hem that ben continuende With besy herte to poursuie Thing which that is to love due. 510 Wherof, my Sone, in this matiere Thou miht ensample taken hiere, That with thi grete besinesse Thou miht atteigne the richesse Of love, if that ther be no Slowthe. I dar wel seie be mi trowthe, Als fer as I my witt can seche, Mi fader, as for lacke of speche, Bot so as I me schrof tofore, Ther is non other time lore, 520 Wherof ther mihte ben obstacle To lette love of his miracle, Which I beseche day and nyht. Bot, fader, so as it is riht In forme of schrifte to beknowe What thing belongeth to the slowe, Your faderhode I wolde preie, If ther be forthere eny weie Touchende unto this ilke vice. Mi Sone, ye, of this office 530 Ther serveth on in special, Which lost hath his memorial, So that he can no wit withholde In thing which he to kepe is holde, Wherof fulofte himself he grieveth: And who that most upon him lieveth, Whan that hise wittes ben so weyved, He mai full lihtly be deceived. To serve Accidie in his office, Ther is of Slowthe an other vice, 540 Which cleped is Foryetelnesse; That noght mai in his herte impresse Of vertu which reson hath sett, So clene his wittes he foryet. For in the tellinge of his tale Nomore his herte thanne his male Hath remembrance of thilke forme, Wherof he scholde his wit enforme As thanne, and yit ne wot he why. Thus is his pourpos noght forthi 550 Forlore of that he wolde bidde, And skarsly if he seith the thridde To love of that he hadde ment: Thus many a lovere hath be schent. Tell on therfore, hast thou be oon Of hem that Slowthe hath so begon? Ye, fader, ofte it hath be so, That whanne I am mi ladi fro And thenke untoward hire drawe, Than cast I many a newe lawe 560 And al the world torne up so doun, And so recorde I mi lecoun And wryte in my memorial What I to hire telle schal, Riht al the matiere of mi tale: Bot al nys worth a note schale; For whanne I come ther sche is, I have it al foryete ywiss; Of that I thoghte forto telle I can noght thanne unethes spelle 570 That I wende altherbest have rad, So sore I am of hire adrad. For as a man that sodeinli A gost behelde, so fare I; So that for feere I can noght gete Mi witt, bot I miself foryete, That I wot nevere what I am, Ne whider I schal, ne whenne I cam, Bot muse as he that were amased. Lich to the bok in which is rased 580 The lettre, and mai nothing be rad, So ben my wittes overlad, That what as evere I thoghte have spoken, It is out fro myn herte stoken, And stonde, as who seith, doumb and def, That all nys worth an yvy lef, Of that I wende wel have seid. And ate laste I make abreid, Caste up myn hed and loke aboute, Riht as a man that were in doute 590 And wot noght wher he schal become. Thus am I ofte al overcome, Ther as I wende best to stonde: Bot after, whanne I understonde, And am in other place al one, I make many a wofull mone Unto miself, and speke so: "Ha fol, wher was thin herte tho, Whan thou thi worthi ladi syhe? Were thou afered of hire yhe? 600 For of hire hand ther is no drede: So wel I knowe hir wommanhede, That in hire is nomore oultrage Than in a child of thre yeer age. Whi hast thou drede of so good on, Whom alle vertu hath begon, That in hire is no violence Bot goodlihiede and innocence Withouten spot of eny blame? Ha, nyce herte, fy for schame] 610 Ha, couard herte of love unlered, Wherof art thou so sore afered, That thou thi tunge soffrest frese, And wolt thi goode wordes lese, Whan thou hast founde time and space? How scholdest thou deserve grace, Whan thou thiself darst axe non, Bot al thou hast foryete anon?" And thus despute I loves lore, Bot help ne finde I noght the more, 620 Bot stomble upon myn oghne treine And make an ekinge of my peine. For evere whan I thenke among How al is on miself along, I seie, "O fol of alle foles, Thou farst as he betwen tuo stoles That wolde sitte and goth to grounde. It was ne nevere schal be founde, Betwen foryetelnesse and drede That man scholde any cause spede." 630 And thus, myn holi fader diere, Toward miself, as ye mai hiere, I pleigne of my foryetelnesse; Bot elles al the besinesse, That mai be take of mannes thoght, Min herte takth, and is thorghsoght To thenken evere upon that swete Withoute Slowthe, I you behete. For what so falle, or wel or wo, That thoght foryete I neveremo, 640 Wher so I lawhe or so I loure: Noght half the Minut of an houre Ne mihte I lete out of my mende, Bot if I thoghte upon that hende. Therof me schal no Slowthe lette, Til deth out of this world me fette, Althogh I hadde on such a Ring, As Moises thurgh his enchanting Som time in Ethiope made, Whan that he Tharbis weddid hade. 650 Which Ring bar of Oblivion The name, and that was be resoun That where it on a finger sat, Anon his love he so foryat, As thogh he hadde it nevere knowe: And so it fell that ilke throwe, Whan Tharbis hadde it on hire hond, No knowlechinge of him sche fond, Bot al was clene out of memoire, As men mai rede in his histoire; 660 And thus he wente quit away, That nevere after that ilke day Sche thoghte that ther was such on; Al was foryete and overgon. Bot in good feith so mai noght I: For sche is evere faste by, So nyh that sche myn herte toucheth, That for nothing that Slowthe voucheth I mai foryete hire, lief ne loth; For overal, where as sche goth, 670 Min herte folwith hire aboute. Thus mai I seie withoute doute, For bet, for wers, for oght, for noght, Sche passeth nevere fro my thoght; Bot whanne I am ther as sche is, Min herte, as I you saide er this, Som time of hire is sore adrad, And som time it is overglad, Al out of reule and out of space. For whan I se hir goodli face 680 And thenke upon hire hihe pris, As thogh I were in Paradis, I am so ravisht of the syhte, That speke unto hire I ne myhte As for the time, thogh I wolde: For I ne mai my wit unfolde To finde o word of that I mene, Bot al it is foryete clene; And thogh I stonde there a myle, Al is foryete for the while, 690 A tunge I have and wordes none. And thus I stonde and thenke al one Of thing that helpeth ofte noght; Bot what I hadde afore thoght To speke, whanne I come there, It is foryete, as noght ne were, And stonde amased and assoted, That of nothing which I have noted I can noght thanne a note singe, Bot al is out of knowlechinge: 700 Thus, what for joie and what for drede, Al is foryeten ate nede. So that, mi fader, of this Slowthe I have you said the pleine trowthe; Ye mai it as you list redresce: For thus stant my foryetelnesse And ek my pusillamite. Sey now forth what you list to me, For I wol only do be you. Mi Sone, I have wel herd how thou 710 Hast seid, and that thou most amende: For love his grace wol noght sende To that man which dar axe non. For this we knowen everichon, A mannes thoght withoute speche God wot, and yit that men beseche His will is; for withoute bedes He doth his grace in fewe stedes: And what man that foryet himselve, Among a thousand be noght tuelve, 720 That wol him take in remembraunce, Bot lete him falle and take his chaunce. Forthi pull up a besi herte, Mi Sone, and let nothing asterte Of love fro thi besinesse: For touchinge of foryetelnesse, Which many a love hath set behinde, A tale of gret ensample I finde, Wherof it is pite to wite In the manere as it is write. 730 King Demephon, whan he be Schipe To Troieward with felaschipe Sailende goth, upon his weie It hapneth him at Rodopeie, As Eolus him hadde blowe, To londe, and rested for a throwe. And fell that ilke time thus, The dowhter of Ligurgius, Which qweene was of the contre, Was sojournende in that Cite 740 Withinne a Castell nyh the stronde, Wher Demephon cam up to londe. Phillis sche hihte, and of yong age And of stature and of visage Sche hadde al that hire best besemeth. Of Demephon riht wel hire qwemeth, Whan he was come, and made him chiere; And he, that was of his manere A lusti knyht, ne myhte asterte That he ne sette on hire his herte; 750 So that withinne a day or tuo He thoghte, how evere that it go, He wolde assaie the fortune, And gan his herte to commune With goodly wordes in hire Ere; And forto put hire out of fere, He swor and hath his trowthe pliht To be for evere hire oghne knyht. And thus with hire he stille abod, Ther while his Schip on Anker rod, 760 And hadde ynowh of time and space To speke of love and seche grace. This ladi herde al that he seide, And hou he swor and hou he preide, Which was as an enchantement To hire, that was innocent: As thogh it were trowthe and feith, Sche lieveth al that evere he seith, And as hire infortune scholde, Sche granteth him al that he wolde. 770 Thus was he for the time in joie, Til that he scholde go to Troie; Bot tho sche made mochel sorwe, And he his trowthe leith to borwe To come, if that he live may, Ayein withinne a Monthe day, And therupon thei kisten bothe: Bot were hem lieve or were hem lothe, To Schipe he goth and forth he wente To Troie, as was his ferste entente. 780 The daies gon, the Monthe passeth, Hire love encresceth and his lasseth, For him sche lefte slep and mete, And he his time hath al foryete; So that this wofull yonge qweene, Which wot noght what it mihte meene, A lettre sende and preide him come, And seith how sche is overcome With strengthe of love in such a wise, That sche noght longe mai suffise 790 To liven out of his presence; And putte upon his conscience The trowthe which he hath behote, Wherof sche loveth him so hote, Sche seith, that if he lengere lette Of such a day as sche him sette, Sche scholde sterven in his Slowthe, Which were a schame unto his trowthe. This lettre is forth upon hire sonde, Wherof somdiel confort on honde 800 Sche tok, as she that wolde abide And waite upon that ilke tyde Which sche hath in hire lettre write. Bot now is pite forto wite, As he dede erst, so he foryat His time eftsone and oversat. Bot sche, which mihte noght do so, The tyde awayteth everemo, And caste hire yhe upon the See: Somtime nay, somtime yee, 810 Somtime he cam, somtime noght, Thus sche desputeth in hire thoght And wot noght what sche thenke mai; Bot fastende al the longe day Sche was into the derke nyht, And tho sche hath do set up lyht In a lanterne on hih alofte Upon a Tour, wher sche goth ofte, In hope that in his cominge He scholde se the liht brenninge, 820 Wherof he mihte his weies rihte To come wher sche was be nyhte. Bot al for noght, sche was deceived, For Venus hath hire hope weyved, And schewede hire upon the Sky How that the day was faste by, So that withinne a litel throwe The daies lyht sche mihte knowe. Tho sche behield the See at large; And whan sche sih ther was no barge 830 Ne Schip, als ferr as sche may kenne, Doun fro the Tour sche gan to renne Into an Herber all hire one, Wher many a wonder woful mone Sche made, that no lif it wiste, As sche which all hire joie miste, That now sche swouneth, now sche pleigneth, And al hire face sche desteigneth With teres, whiche, as of a welle The stremes, from hire yhen felle; 840 So as sche mihte and evere in on Sche clepede upon Demephon, And seide, "Helas, thou slowe wiht, Wher was ther evere such a knyht, That so thurgh his ungentilesce Of Slowthe and of foryetelnesse Ayein his trowthe brak his stevene?" And tho hire yhe up to the hevene Sche caste, and seide, "O thou unkinde, Hier schalt thou thurgh thi Slowthe finde, 850 If that thee list to come and se, A ladi ded for love of thee, So as I schal myselve spille; Whom, if it hadde be thi wille, Thou mihtest save wel ynowh." With that upon a grene bowh A Ceinte of Selk, which sche ther hadde, Sche knette, and so hireself sche ladde, That sche aboute hire whyte swere It dede, and hyng hirselven there. 860 Wherof the goddes were amoeved, And Demephon was so reproeved, That of the goddes providence Was schape such an evidence Evere afterward ayein the slowe, That Phillis in the same throwe Was schape into a Notetre, That alle men it mihte se, And after Phillis Philliberd This tre was cleped in the yerd, 870 And yit for Demephon to schame Into this dai it berth the name. This wofull chance how that it ferde Anon as Demephon it herde, And every man it hadde in speche, His sorwe was noght tho to seche; He gan his Slowthe forto banne, Bot it was al to late thanne. Lo thus, my Sone, miht thou wite Ayein this vice how it is write; 880 For noman mai the harmes gesse, That fallen thurgh foryetelnesse, Wherof that I thi schrifte have herd. Bot yit of Slowthe hou it hath ferd In other wise I thenke oppose, If thou have gult, as I suppose. Fulfild of Slowthes essamplaire Ther is yit on, his Secretaire, And he is cleped Negligence: Which wol noght loke his evidence, 890 Wherof he mai be war tofore; Bot whanne he hath his cause lore, Thanne is he wys after the hond: Whanne helpe may no maner bond, Thanne ate ferste wolde he binde: Thus everemore he stant behinde. Whanne he the thing mai noght amende, Thanne is he war, and seith at ende, "Ha, wolde god I hadde knowe]" Wherof bejaped with a mowe 900 He goth, for whan the grete Stiede Is stole, thanne he taketh hiede, And makth the stable dore fast: Thus evere he pleith an aftercast Of al that he schal seie or do. He hath a manere eke also, Him list noght lerne to be wys, For he set of no vertu pris Bot as him liketh for the while; So fieleth he fulofte guile, 910 Whan that he weneth siker stonde. And thus thou miht wel understonde, Mi Sone, if thou art such in love, Thou miht noght come at thin above Of that thou woldest wel achieve. Mi holi fader, as I lieve, I mai wel with sauf conscience Excuse me of necgligence Towardes love in alle wise: For thogh I be non of the wise, 920 I am so trewly amerous, That I am evere curious Of hem that conne best enforme To knowe and witen al the forme, What falleth unto loves craft. Bot yit ne fond I noght the haft, Which mihte unto that bladd acorde; For nevere herde I man recorde What thing it is that myhte availe To winne love withoute faile. 930 Yit so fer cowthe I nevere finde Man that be resoun ne be kinde Me cowthe teche such an art, That he ne failede of a part; And as toward myn oghne wit, Controeve cowthe I nevere yit To finden eny sikernesse, That me myhte outher more or lesse Of love make forto spede: For lieveth wel withoute drede, 940 If that ther were such a weie, As certeinliche as I schal deie I hadde it lerned longe ago. Bot I wot wel ther is non so: And natheles it may wel be, I am so rude in my degree And ek mi wittes ben so dulle, That I ne mai noght to the fulle Atteigne to so hih a lore. Bot this I dar seie overmore, 950 Althogh mi wit ne be noght strong, It is noght on mi will along, For that is besi nyht and day To lerne al that he lerne may, How that I mihte love winne: Bot yit I am as to beginne Of that I wolde make an ende, And for I not how it schal wende, That is to me mi moste sorwe. Bot I dar take god to borwe, 960 As after min entendement, Non other wise necgligent Thanne I yow seie have I noght be: Forthi per seinte charite Tell me, mi fader, what you semeth. In good feith, Sone, wel me qwemeth, That thou thiself hast thus aquit Toward this vice, in which no wit Abide mai, for in an houre He lest al that he mai laboure 970 The longe yer, so that men sein, What evere he doth it is in vein. For thurgh the Slowthe of Negligence Ther was yit nevere such science Ne vertu, which was bodely, That nys destruid and lost therby. Ensample that it hath be so In boke I finde write also. Phebus, which is the Sonne hote, That schyneth upon Erthe hote 980 And causeth every lyves helthe, He hadde a Sone in al his welthe, Which Pheton hihte, and he desireth And with his Moder he conspireth, The which was cleped Clemenee, For help and conseil, so that he His fader carte lede myhte Upon the faire daies brihte. And for this thing thei bothe preide Unto the fader, and he seide 990 He wolde wel, bot forth withal Thre pointz he bad in special Unto his Sone in alle wise, That he him scholde wel avise And take it as be weie of lore. Ferst was, that he his hors to sore Ne prike, and over that he tolde That he the renes faste holde; And also that he be riht war In what manere he lede his charr, 1000 That he mistake noght his gate, Bot up avisement algate He scholde bere a siker yhe, That he to lowe ne to hyhe His carte dryve at eny throwe, Wherof that he mihte overthrowe. And thus be Phebus ordinance Tok Pheton into governance The Sonnes carte, which he ladde: Bot he such veine gloire hadde 1010 Of that he was set upon hyh, That he his oghne astat ne syh Thurgh negligence and tok non hiede; So mihte he wel noght longe spede. For he the hors withoute lawe The carte let aboute drawe Wher as hem liketh wantounly, That ate laste sodeinly, For he no reson wolde knowe, This fyri carte he drof to lowe, 1020 And fyreth al the world aboute; Wherof thei weren alle in doubte, And to the god for helpe criden Of suche unhappes as betyden. Phebus, which syh the necgligence, How Pheton ayein his defence His charr hath drive out of the weie, Ordeigneth that he fell aweie Out of the carte into a flod And dreynte. Lo now, hou it stod 1030 With him that was so necgligent, That fro the hyhe firmament, For that he wolde go to lowe, He was anon doun overthrowe. In hih astat it is a vice To go to lowe, and in service It grieveth forto go to hye, Wherof a tale in poesie I finde, how whilom Dedalus, Which hadde a Sone, and Icharus 1040 He hihte, and thogh hem thoghte lothe, In such prison thei weren bothe With Minotaurus, that aboute Thei mihten nawher wenden oute; So thei begonne forto schape How thei the prison mihte ascape. This Dedalus, which fro his yowthe Was tawht and manye craftes cowthe, Of fetheres and of othre thinges Hath mad to fle diverse wynges 1050 For him and for his Sone also; To whom he yaf in charge tho And bad him thenke therupon, How that his wynges ben set on With wex, and if he toke his flyhte To hyhe, al sodeinliche he mihte Make it to melte with the Sonne. And thus thei have her flyht begonne Out of the prison faire and softe; And whan thei weren bothe alofte, 1060 This Icharus began to monte, And of the conseil non accompte He sette, which his fader tawhte, Til that the Sonne his wynges cawhte, Wherof it malt, and fro the heihte Withouten help of eny sleihte He fell to his destruccion. And lich to that condicion Ther fallen ofte times fele For lacke of governance in wele, 1070 Als wel in love as other weie. Now goode fader, I you preie, If ther be more in the matiere Of Slowthe, that I mihte it hiere. Mi Sone, and for thi diligence, Which every mannes conscience Be resoun scholde reule and kepe, If that thee list to taken kepe, I wol thee telle, aboven alle In whom no vertu mai befalle, 1080 Which yifth unto the vices reste And is of slowe the sloweste. Among these othre of Slowthes kinde, Which alle labour set behinde, And hateth alle besinesse, Ther is yit on, which Ydelnesse Is cleped, and is the Norrice In mannes kinde of every vice, Which secheth eases manyfold. In Wynter doth he noght for cold, 1090 In Somer mai he noght for hete; So whether that he frese or swete, Or he be inne, or he be oute, He wol ben ydel al aboute, Bot if he pleie oght ate Dees. For who as evere take fees And thenkth worschipe to deserve, Ther is no lord whom he wol serve, As forto duelle in his servise, Bot if it were in such a wise, 1100 Of that he seth per aventure That be lordschipe and coverture He mai the more stonde stille, And use his ydelnesse at wille. For he ne wol no travail take To ryde for his ladi sake, Bot liveth al upon his wisshes; And as a cat wolde ete fisshes Withoute wetinge of his cles, So wolde he do, bot natheles 1110 He faileth ofte of that he wolde. Mi Sone, if thou of such a molde Art mad, now tell me plein thi schrifte. Nay, fader, god I yive a yifte. That toward love, as be mi wit, Al ydel was I nevere yit, Ne nevere schal, whil I mai go. Now, Sone, tell me thanne so, What hast thou don of besischipe To love and to the ladischipe 1120 Of hire which thi ladi is? Mi fader, evere yit er this In every place, in every stede, What so mi lady hath me bede, With al myn herte obedient I have therto be diligent. And if so is sche bidde noght, What thing that thanne into my thoght Comth ferst of that I mai suffise, I bowe and profre my servise, 1130 Somtime in chambre, somtime in halle, Riht as I se the times falle. And whan sche goth to hiere masse, That time schal noght overpasse, That I naproche hir ladihede, In aunter if I mai hire lede Unto the chapelle and ayein. Thanne is noght al mi weie in vein, Somdiel I mai the betre fare, Whan I, that mai noght fiele hir bare, 1140 Mai lede hire clothed in myn arm: Bot afterward it doth me harm Of pure ymaginacioun; For thanne this collacioun I make unto miselven ofte, And seie, "Ha lord, hou sche is softe, How sche is round, hou sche is smal] Now wolde god I hadde hire al Withoute danger at mi wille]" And thanne I sike and sitte stille, 1150 Of that I se mi besi thoght Is torned ydel into noght. Bot for al that lete I ne mai, Whanne I se time an other dai, That I ne do my besinesse Unto mi ladi worthinesse. For I therto mi wit afaite To se the times and awaite What is to done and what to leve: And so, whan time is, be hir leve, 1160 What thing sche bit me don, I do, And wher sche bidt me gon, I go, And whanne hir list to clepe, I come. Thus hath sche fulliche overcome Min ydelnesse til I sterve, So that I mot hire nedes serve, For as men sein, nede hath no lawe. Thus mot I nedly to hire drawe, I serve, I bowe, I loke, I loute, Min yhe folweth hire aboute, 1170 What so sche wole so wol I, Whan sche wol sitte, I knele by, And whan sche stant, than wol I stonde: Bot whan sche takth hir werk on honde Of wevinge or enbrouderie, Than can I noght bot muse and prie Upon hir fingres longe and smale, And now I thenke, and now I tale, And now I singe, and now I sike, And thus mi contienance I pike. 1180 And if it falle, as for a time Hir liketh noght abide bime, Bot besien hire on other thinges, Than make I othre tariinges To dreche forth the longe dai, For me is loth departe away. And thanne I am so simple of port, That forto feigne som desport I pleie with hire litel hound Now on the bedd, now on the ground, 1190 Now with hir briddes in the cage; For ther is non so litel page, Ne yit so simple a chamberere, That I ne make hem alle chere, Al for thei scholde speke wel: Thus mow ye sen mi besi whiel, That goth noght ydeliche aboute. And if hir list to riden oute On pelrinage or other stede, I come, thogh I be noght bede, 1200 And take hire in min arm alofte And sette hire in hire sadel softe, And so forth lede hire be the bridel, For that I wolde noght ben ydel. And if hire list to ride in Char, And thanne I mai therof be war, Anon I schape me to ryde Riht evene be the Chares side; And as I mai, I speke among, And otherwhile I singe a song, 1210 Which Ovide in his bokes made, And seide, "O whiche sorwes glade, O which wofull prosperite Belongeth to the proprete Of love, who so wole him serve] And yit therfro mai noman swerve, That he ne mot his lawe obeie." And thus I ryde forth mi weie, And am riht besi overal With herte and with mi body al, 1220 As I have said you hier tofore. My goode fader, tell therfore, Of Ydelnesse if I have gilt. Mi Sone, bot thou telle wilt Oght elles than I mai now hiere, Thou schalt have no penance hiere. And natheles a man mai se, How now adayes that ther be Ful manye of suche hertes slowe, That wol noght besien hem to knowe 1230 What thing love is, til ate laste, That he with strengthe hem overcaste, That malgre hem thei mote obeie And don al ydelschipe aweie, To serve wel and besiliche. Bot, Sone, thou art non of swiche, For love schal the wel excuse: Bot otherwise, if thou refuse To love, thou miht so per cas Ben ydel, as somtime was 1240 A kinges dowhter unavised, Til that Cupide hire hath chastised: Wherof thou schalt a tale hiere Acordant unto this matiere. Of Armenye, I rede thus, Ther was a king, which Herupus Was hote, and he a lusti Maide To dowhter hadde, and as men saide Hire name was Rosiphelee; Which tho was of gret renomee, 1250 For sche was bothe wys and fair And scholde ben hire fader hair. Bot sche hadde o defalte of Slowthe Towardes love, and that was rowthe; For so wel cowde noman seie, Which mihte sette hire in the weie Of loves occupacion Thurgh non ymaginacion; That scole wolde sche noght knowe. And thus sche was on of the slowe 1260 As of such hertes besinesse, Til whanne Venus the goddesse, Which loves court hath forto reule, Hath broght hire into betre reule, Forth with Cupide and with his miht: For thei merveille how such a wiht, Which tho was in hir lusti age, Desireth nother Mariage Ne yit the love of paramours, Which evere hath be the comun cours 1270 Amonges hem that lusti were. So was it schewed after there: For he that hihe hertes loweth With fyri Dartes whiche he throweth, Cupide, which of love is godd, In chastisinge hath mad a rodd To dryve awei hir wantounesse; So that withinne a while, I gesse, Sche hadde on such a chance sporned, That al hire mod was overtorned, 1280 Which ferst sche hadde of slow manere: For thus it fell, as thou schalt hiere. Whan come was the Monthe of Maii, Sche wolde walke upon a dai, And that was er the Sonne Ariste; Of wommen bot a fewe it wiste, And forth sche wente prively Unto the Park was faste by, Al softe walkende on the gras, Til sche cam ther the Launde was, 1290 Thurgh which ther ran a gret rivere. It thoghte hir fair, and seide, "Here I wole abide under the schawe": And bad hire wommen to withdrawe, And ther sche stod al one stille, To thenke what was in hir wille. Sche sih the swote floures springe, Sche herde glade foules singe, Sche sih the bestes in her kinde, The buck, the do, the hert, the hinde, 1300 The madle go with the femele; And so began ther a querele Betwen love and hir oghne herte, Fro which sche couthe noght asterte. And as sche caste hire yhe aboute, Sche syh clad in o suite a route Of ladis, wher thei comen ryde Along under the wodes syde: On faire amblende hors thei sete, That were al whyte, fatte and grete, 1310 And everichon thei ride on side. The Sadles were of such a Pride, With Perle and gold so wel begon, So riche syh sche nevere non; In kertles and in Copes riche Thei weren clothed, alle liche, Departed evene of whyt and blew; With alle lustes that sche knew Thei were enbrouded overal. Here bodies weren long and smal, 1320 The beaute faye upon her face Non erthly thing it may desface; Corones on here hed thei beere, As ech of hem a qweene weere, That al the gold of Cresus halle The leste coronal of alle Ne mihte have boght after the worth: Thus come thei ridende forth. The kinges dowhter, which this syh, For pure abaissht drowh hire adryh 1330 And hield hire clos under the bowh, And let hem passen stille ynowh; For as hire thoghte in hire avis, To hem that were of such a pris Sche was noght worthi axen there, Fro when they come or what thei were: Bot levere than this worldes good Sche wolde have wist hou that it stod, And putte hire hed alitel oute; And as sche lokede hire aboute, 1340 Sche syh comende under the linde A womman up an hors behinde. The hors on which sche rod was blak, Al lene and galled on the back, And haltede, as he were encluyed, Wherof the womman was annuied; Thus was the hors in sori plit, Bot for al that a sterre whit Amiddes in the front he hadde. Hir Sadel ek was wonder badde, 1350 In which the wofull womman sat, And natheles ther was with that A riche bridel for the nones Of gold and preciouse Stones. Hire cote was somdiel totore; Aboute hir middel twenty score Of horse haltres and wel mo Ther hyngen ate time tho. Thus whan sche cam the ladi nyh, Than tok sche betre hiede and syh 1360 This womman fair was of visage, Freyssh, lusti, yong and of tendre age; And so this ladi, ther sche stod, Bethoghte hire wel and understod That this, which com ridende tho, Tidinges couthe telle of tho, Which as sche sih tofore ryde, And putte hir forth and preide abide, And seide, "Ha, Suster, let me hiere, What ben thei, that now riden hiere, 1370 And ben so richeliche arraied?" This womman, which com so esmaied, Ansuerde with ful softe speche, And seith, "Ma Dame, I schal you teche. These ar of tho that whilom were Servantz to love, and trowthe beere, Ther as thei hadde here herte set. Fare wel, for I mai noght be let: Ma Dame, I go to mi servise, So moste I haste in alle wise; 1380 Forthi, ma Dame, yif me leve, I mai noght longe with you leve." "Ha, goode Soster, yit I preie, Tell me whi ye ben so beseie And with these haltres thus begon." "Ma Dame, whilom I was on That to mi fader hadde a king; Bot I was slow, and for no thing Me liste noght to love obeie, And that I now ful sore abeie. 1390 For I whilom no love hadde, Min hors is now so fieble and badde, And al totore is myn arai, And every yeer this freisshe Maii These lusti ladis ryde aboute, And I mot nedes suie here route In this manere as ye now se, And trusse here haltres forth with me, And am bot as here horse knave. Non other office I ne have, 1400 Hem thenkth I am worthi nomore, For I was slow in loves lore, Whan I was able forto lere, And wolde noght the tales hiere Of hem that couthen love teche." "Now tell me thanne, I you beseche, Wherof that riche bridel serveth." With that hire chere awei sche swerveth, And gan to wepe, and thus sche tolde: "This bridel, which ye nou beholde 1410 So riche upon myn horse hed,- Ma Dame, afore, er I was ded, Whan I was in mi lusti lif, Ther fel into myn herte a strif Of love, which me overcom, So that therafter hiede I nom And thoghte I wolde love a kniht: That laste wel a fourtenyht, For it no lengere mihte laste, So nyh my lif was ate laste. 1420 Bot now, allas, to late war That I ne hadde him loved ar: For deth cam so in haste bime, Er I therto hadde eny time, That it ne mihte ben achieved. Bot for al that I am relieved, Of that mi will was good therto, That love soffreth it be so That I schal swiche a bridel were. Now have ye herd al myn ansuere: 1430 To godd, ma Dame, I you betake, And warneth alle for mi sake, Of love that thei ben noght ydel, And bidd hem thenke upon mi brydel." And with that word al sodeinly Sche passeth, as it were a Sky, Al clene out of this ladi sihte: And tho for fere hire herte afflihte, And seide to hirself, "Helas] I am riht in the same cas. 1440 Bot if I live after this day, I schal amende it, if I may." And thus homward this lady wente, And changede al hire ferste entente, Withinne hire herte and gan to swere That sche none haltres wolde bere. Lo, Sone, hier miht thou taken hiede, How ydelnesse is forto drede, Namliche of love, as I have write. For thou miht understonde and wite, 1450 Among the gentil nacion Love is an occupacion, Which forto kepe hise lustes save Scholde every gentil herte have: For as the ladi was chastised, Riht so the knyht mai ben avised, Which ydel is and wol noght serve To love, he mai per cas deserve A grettere peine than sche hadde, Whan sche aboute with hire ladde 1460 The horse haltres; and forthi Good is to be wel war therbi. Bot forto loke aboven alle, These Maidens, hou so that it falle, Thei scholden take ensample of this Which I have told, for soth it is. Mi ladi Venus, whom I serve, What womman wole hire thonk deserve, Sche mai noght thilke love eschuie Of paramours, bot sche mot suie 1470 Cupides lawe; and natheles Men sen such love sielde in pes, That it nys evere upon aspie Of janglinge and of fals Envie, Fulofte medlid with disese: Bot thilke love is wel at ese, Which set is upon mariage; For that dar schewen the visage In alle places openly. A gret mervaile it is forthi, 1480 How that a Maiden wolde lette, That sche hir time ne besette To haste unto that ilke feste, Wherof the love is al honeste. Men mai recovere lost of good, Bot so wys man yit nevere stod, Which mai recovere time lore: So mai a Maiden wel therfore Ensample take, of that sche strangeth Hir love, and longe er that sche changeth 1490 Hir herte upon hir lustes greene To mariage, as it is seene. For thus a yer or tuo or thre Sche lest, er that sche wedded be, Whyl sche the charge myhte bere Of children, whiche the world forbere Ne mai, bot if it scholde faile. Bot what Maiden hire esposaile Wol tarie, whan sche take mai, Sche schal per chance an other dai 1500 Be let, whan that hire lievest were. Wherof a tale unto hire Ere, Which is coupable upon this dede, I thenke telle of that I rede. Among the Jewes, as men tolde, Ther was whilom be daies olde A noble Duck, which Jepte hihte. And fell, he scholde go to fyhte Ayein Amon the cruel king: And forto speke upon this thing, 1510 Withinne his herte he made avou To god and seide, "Ha lord, if thou Wolt grante unto thi man victoire, I schal in tokne of thi memoire The ferste lif that I mai se, Of man or womman wher it be, Anon as I come hom ayein, To thee, which art god sovereign, Slen in thi name and sacrifie." And thus with his chivalerie 1520 He goth him forth, wher that he scholde, And wan al that he winne wolde And overcam his fomen alle. Mai noman lette that schal falle. This Duc a lusti dowhter hadde, And fame, which the wordes spradde, Hath broght unto this ladi Ere How that hire fader hath do there. Sche waiteth upon his cominge With dansinge and with carolinge, 1530 As sche that wolde be tofore Al othre, and so sche was therfore In Masphat at hir fader gate The ferste; and whan he com therate, And sih his douhter, he tobreide Hise clothes and wepende he seide: "O mihti god among ous hiere, Nou wot I that in no manere This worldes joie mai be plein. I hadde al that I coude sein 1540 Ayein mi fomen be thi grace, So whan I cam toward this place Ther was non gladdere man than I: But now, mi lord, al sodeinli Mi joie is torned into sorwe, For I mi dowhter schal tomorwe Tohewe and brenne in thi servise To loenge of thi sacrifise Thurgh min avou, so as it is." The Maiden, whan sche wiste of this, 1550 And sih the sorwe hir fader made, So as sche mai with wordes glade Conforteth him, and bad him holde The covenant which he is holde Towardes god, as he behihte. Bot natheles hire herte aflihte Of that sche sih hire deth comende; And thanne unto the ground knelende Tofore hir fader sche is falle, And seith, so as it is befalle 1560 Upon this point that sche schal deie, Of o thing ferst sche wolde him preie, That fourty daies of respit He wolde hir grante upon this plit, That sche the whyle mai bewepe Hir maidenhod, which sche to kepe So longe hath had and noght beset; Wherof her lusti youthe is let, That sche no children hath forthdrawe In Mariage after the lawe, 1570 So that the poeple is noght encressed. Bot that it mihte be relessed, That sche hir time hath lore so, Sche wolde be his leve go With othre Maidens to compleigne, And afterward unto the peine Of deth sche wolde come ayein. The fader herde his douhter sein, And therupon of on assent The Maidens were anon asent, 1580 That scholden with this Maiden wende. So forto speke unto this ende, Thei gon the dounes and the dales With wepinge and with wofull tales, And every wyht hire maidenhiede Compleigneth upon thilke nede, That sche no children hadde bore, Wherof sche hath hir youthe lore, Which nevere sche recovere mai: For so fell that hir laste dai 1590 Was come, in which sche scholde take Hir deth, which sche may noght forsake. Lo, thus sche deiede a wofull Maide For thilke cause which I saide, As thou hast understonde above. Mi fader, as toward the Love Of Maidens forto telle trowthe, Ye have thilke vice of Slowthe, Me thenkth, riht wonder wel declared, That ye the wommen have noght spared 1600 Of hem that tarien so behinde. Bot yit it falleth in my minde, Toward the men hou that ye spieke Of hem that wole no travail sieke In cause of love upon decerte: To speke in wordes so coverte, I not what travaill that ye mente. Mi Sone, and after min entente I woll thee telle what I thoghte, Hou whilom men here loves boghte 1610 Thurgh gret travaill in strange londes, Wher that thei wroghten with here hondes Of armes many a worthi dede, In sondri place as men mai rede. That every love of pure kinde Is ferst forthdrawe, wel I finde: Bot natheles yit overthis Decerte doth so that it is The rather had in mani place. Forthi who secheth loves grace, 1620 Wher that these worthi wommen are, He mai noght thanne himselve spare Upon his travail forto serve, Wherof that he mai thonk deserve, There as these men of Armes be, Somtime over the grete Se: So that be londe and ek be Schipe He mot travaile for worschipe And make manye hastyf rodes, Somtime in Prus, somtime in Rodes, 1630 And somtime into Tartarie; So that these heraldz on him crie, "Vailant, vailant, lo, wher he goth]" And thanne he yifth hem gold and cloth, So that his fame mihte springe, And to his ladi Ere bringe Som tidinge of his worthinesse; So that sche mihte of his prouesce Of that sche herde men recorde, The betre unto his love acorde 1640 And danger pute out of hire mod, Whanne alle men recorden good, And that sche wot wel, for hir sake That he no travail wol forsake. Mi Sone, of this travail I meene: Nou schrif thee, for it schal be sene If thou art ydel in this cas. My fader ye, and evere was: For as me thenketh trewely That every man doth mor than I 1650 As of this point, and if so is That I have oght so don er this, It is so litel of acompte, As who seith, it mai noght amonte To winne of love his lusti yifte. For this I telle you in schrifte, That me were levere hir love winne Than Kaire and al that is ther inne: And forto slen the hethen alle, I not what good ther mihte falle, 1660 So mochel blod thogh ther be schad. This finde I writen, hou Crist bad That noman other scholde sle. What scholde I winne over the Se, If I mi ladi loste at hom? Bot passe thei the salte fom, To whom Crist bad thei scholden preche To al the world and his feith teche: Bot now thei rucken in here nest And resten as hem liketh best 1670 In all the swetnesse of delices. Thus thei defenden ous the vices, And sitte hemselven al amidde; To slen and feihten thei ous bidde Hem whom thei scholde, as the bok seith, Converten unto Cristes feith. Bot hierof have I gret mervaile, Hou thei wol bidde me travaile: A Sarazin if I sle schal, I sle the Soule forth withal, 1680 And that was nevere Cristes lore. Bot nou ho ther, I seie nomore. Bot I wol speke upon mi schrifte; And to Cupide I make a yifte, That who as evere pris deserve Of armes, I wol love serve; And thogh I scholde hem bothe kepe, Als wel yit wolde I take kepe Whan it were time to abide, As forto travaile and to ryde: 1690 For how as evere a man laboure, Cupide appointed hath his houre. For I have herd it telle also, Achilles lefte hise armes so Bothe of himself and of his men At Troie for Polixenen, Upon hire love whanne he fell, That for no chance that befell Among the Grecs or up or doun, He wolde noght ayein the toun 1700 Ben armed, for the love of hire. And so me thenketh, lieve Sire, A man of armes mai him reste Somtime in hope for the beste, If he mai finde a weie nerr. What scholde I thanne go so ferr In strange londes many a mile To ryde, and lese at hom therwhile Mi love? It were a schort beyete To winne chaf and lese whete. 1710 Bot if mi ladi bidde wolde, That I for hire love scholde Travaile, me thenkth trewely I mihte fle thurghout the Sky, And go thurghout the depe Se, For al ne sette I at a stre What thonk that I mihte elles gete. What helpeth it a man have mete, Wher drinke lacketh on the bord? What helpeth eny mannes word 1720 To seie hou I travaile faste, Wher as me faileth ate laste That thing which I travaile fore? O in good time were he bore, That mihte atteigne such a mede. Bot certes if I mihte spede With eny maner besinesse Of worldes travail, thanne I gesse, Ther scholde me non ydelschipe Departen fro hir ladischipe. 1730 Bot this I se, on daies nou The blinde god, I wot noght hou, Cupido, which of love is lord, He set the thinges in discord, That thei that lest to love entende Fulofte he wole hem yive and sende Most of his grace; and thus I finde That he that scholde go behinde, Goth many a time ferr tofore: So wot I noght riht wel therfore, 1740 On whether bord that I schal seile. Thus can I noght miself conseile, Bot al I sette on aventure, And am, as who seith, out of cure For ought that I can seie or do: For everemore I finde it so, The more besinesse I leie, The more that I knele and preie With goode wordes and with softe, The more I am refused ofte, 1750 With besinesse and mai noght winne. And in good feith that is gret Sinne; For I mai seie, of dede and thoght That ydel man have I be noght; For hou as evere I be deslaied, Yit evermore I have assaied. Bot thogh my besinesse laste, Al is bot ydel ate laste, For whan theffect is ydelnesse, I not what thing is besinesse. 1760 Sei, what availeth al the dede, Which nothing helpeth ate nede? For the fortune of every fame Schal of his ende bere a name. And thus for oght is yit befalle, An ydel man I wol me calle As after myn entendement: Bot upon youre amendement, Min holi fader, as you semeth, Mi reson and my cause demeth. 1770 Mi Sone, I have herd thi matiere, Of that thou hast thee schriven hiere: And forto speke of ydel fare, Me semeth that thou tharst noght care, Bot only that thou miht noght spede. And therof, Sone, I wol thee rede, Abyd, and haste noght to faste; Thi dees ben every dai to caste, Thou nost what chance schal betyde. Betre is to wayte upon the tyde 1780 Than rowe ayein the stremes stronge: For thogh so be thee thenketh longe, Per cas the revolucion Of hevene and thi condicion Ne be noght yit of on acord. Bot I dar make this record To Venus, whos Prest that I am, That sithen that I hidir cam To hiere, as sche me bad, thi lif, Wherof thou elles be gultif, 1790 Thou miht hierof thi conscience Excuse, and of gret diligence, Which thou to love hast so despended, Thou oghtest wel to be comended. Bot if so be that ther oght faile, Of that thou slowthest to travaile In armes forto ben absent, And for thou makst an argument Of that thou seidest hiere above, Hou Achilles thurgh strengthe of love 1800 Hise armes lefte for a throwe, Thou schalt an other tale knowe, Which is contraire, as thou schalt wite. For this a man mai finde write, Whan that knyhthode schal be werred, Lust mai noght thanne be preferred; The bedd mot thanne be forsake And Schield and spere on honde take, Which thing schal make hem after glade, Whan thei ben worthi knihtes made. 1810 Wherof, so as it comth to honde, A tale thou schalt understonde, Hou that a kniht schal armes suie, And for the while his ese eschuie. Upon knyhthode I rede thus, How whilom whan the king Nauplus, The fader of Palamades, Cam forto preien Ulixes With othre Gregois ek also, That he with hem to Troie go, 1820 Wher that the Siege scholde be, Anon upon Penolope His wif, whom that he loveth hote, Thenkende, wolde hem noght behote. Bot he schop thanne a wonder wyle, How that he scholde hem best beguile, So that he mihte duelle stille At home and welde his love at wille: Wherof erli the morwe day Out of his bedd, wher that he lay, 1830 Whan he was uppe, he gan to fare Into the field and loke and stare, As he which feigneth to be wod: He tok a plowh, wher that it stod, Wherinne anon in stede of Oxes He let do yoken grete foxes, And with gret salt the lond he siew. But Nauplus, which the cause kniew, Ayein the sleihte which he feigneth An other sleihte anon ordeigneth. 1840 And fell that time Ulixes hadde A chyld to Sone, and Nauplus radde How men that Sone taken scholde, And setten him upon the Molde, Wher that his fader hield the plowh, In thilke furgh which he tho drowh. For in such wise he thoghte assaie, Hou it Ulixes scholde paie, If that he were wod or non. The knihtes for this child forthgon; 1850 Thelamacus anon was fett, Tofore the plowh and evene sett, Wher that his fader scholde dryve. Bot whan he sih his child, als blyve He drof the plowh out of the weie, And Nauplus tho began to seie, And hath half in a jape cryd: "O Ulixes, thou art aspyd: What is al this thou woldest meene? For openliche it is now seene 1860 That thou hast feigned al this thing, Which is gret schame to a king, Whan that for lust of eny slowthe Thou wolt in a querele of trowthe Of armes thilke honour forsake, And duelle at hom for loves sake: For betre it were honour to winne Than love, which likinge is inne. Forthi tak worschipe upon honde, And elles thou schalt understonde 1870 These othre worthi kinges alle Of Grece, which unto thee calle, Towardes thee wol be riht wrothe, And grieve thee per chance bothe: Which schal be tothe double schame Most for the hindrynge of thi name, That thou for Slouthe of eny love Schalt so thi lustes sette above And leve of armes the knyhthode, Which is the pris of thi manhode 1880 And oghte ferst to be desired." Bot he, which hadde his herte fyred Upon his wif, whan he this herde, Noght o word therayein ansuerde, Bot torneth hom halvinge aschamed, And hath withinne himself so tamed His herte, that al the sotie Of love for chivalerie He lefte, and be him lief or loth, To Troie forth with hem he goth, 1890 That he him mihte noght excuse. Thus stant it, if a knyht refuse The lust of armes to travaile, Ther mai no worldes ese availe, Bot if worschipe be with al. And that hath schewed overal; For it sit wel in alle wise A kniht to ben of hih emprise And puten alle drede aweie; For in this wise, I have herd seie, 1900 The worthi king Protheselai On his passage wher he lai Towardes Troie thilke Siege, Sche which was al his oghne liege, Laodomie his lusti wif, Which for his love was pensif, As he which al hire herte hadde, Upon a thing wherof sche dradde A lettre, forto make him duelle Fro Troie, sende him, thus to telle, 1910 Hou sche hath axed of the wyse Touchende of him in such a wise, That thei have don hire understonde, Towardes othre hou so it stonde, The destine it hath so schape That he schal noght the deth ascape In cas that he arryve at Troie. Forthi as to hir worldes joie With al hire herte sche him preide, And many an other cause alleide, 1920 That he with hire at home abide. Bot he hath cast hir lettre aside, As he which tho no maner hiede Tok of hire wommannysshe drede; And forth he goth, as noght ne were, To Troie, and was the ferste there Which londeth, and tok arryvaile: For him was levere in the bataille, He seith, to deien as a knyht, Than forto lyve in al his myht 1930 And be reproeved of his name. Lo, thus upon the worldes fame Knyhthode hath evere yit be set, Which with no couardie is let. Of king Sa
l also I finde, Whan Samuel out of his kinde, Thurgh that the Phitonesse hath lered, In Samarie was arered Long time after that he was ded, The king Sa
l him axeth red, 1940 If that he schal go fyhte or non. And Samuel him seide anon, "The ferste day of the bataille Thou schalt be slain withoute faile And Jonathas thi Sone also." Bot hou as evere it felle so, This worthi kniht of his corage Hath undertake the viage, And wol noght his knyhthode lette For no peril he couthe sette; 1950 Wherof that bothe his Sone and he Upon the Montz of Gelboe5 Assemblen with here enemys: For thei knyhthode of such a pris Be olde daies thanne hielden, That thei non other thing behielden. And thus the fader for worschipe Forth with his Sone of felaschipe Thurgh lust of armes weren dede, As men mai in the bible rede; 1960 The whos knyhthode is yit in mende, And schal be to the worldes ende. And forto loken overmore, It hath and schal ben evermore That of knihthode the prouesse Is grounded upon hardinesse Of him that dar wel undertake. And who that wolde ensample take Upon the forme of knyhtes lawe, How that Achilles was forthdrawe 1970 With Chiro, which Centaurus hihte, Of many a wondre hiere he mihte. For it stod thilke time thus, That this Chiro, this Centaurus, Withinne a large wildernesse, Wher was Leon and Leonesse, The Lepard and the Tigre also, With Hert and Hynde, and buck and doo, Hadde his duellinge, as tho befell, Of Pileon upon the hel, 1980 Wherof was thanne mochel speche. Ther hath Chiro this Chyld to teche, What time he was of tuelve yer age; Wher forto maken his corage The more hardi be other weie, In the forest to hunte and pleie Whan that Achilles walke wolde, Centaurus bad that he ne scholde After no beste make his chace, Which wolde flen out of his place, 1990 As buck and doo and hert and hynde, With whiche he mai no werre finde; Bot tho that wolden him withstonde, Ther scholde he with his Dart on honde Upon the Tigre and the Leon Pourchace and take his veneison, As to a kniht is acordant. And therupon a covenant This Chiro with Achilles sette, That every day withoute lette 2000 He scholde such a cruel beste Or slen or wounden ate leste, So that he mihte a tokne bringe Of blod upon his hom cominge. And thus of that Chiro him tawhte Achilles such an herte cawhte, That he nomore a Leon dradde, Whan he his Dart on honde hadde, Thanne if a Leon were an asse: And that hath mad him forto passe 2010 Alle othre knihtes of his dede, Whan it cam to the grete nede, As it was afterward wel knowe. Lo, thus, my Sone, thou miht knowe That the corage of hardiesce Is of knyhthode the prouesce, Which is to love sufficant Aboven al the remenant That unto loves court poursuie. Bot who that wol no Slowthe eschuie, 2020 Upon knihthode and noght travaile, I not what love him scholde availe; Bot every labour axeth why Of som reward, wherof that I Ensamples couthe telle ynowe Of hem that toward love drowe Be olde daies, as thei scholde. Mi fader, therof hiere I wolde. Mi Sone, it is wel resonable, In place which is honorable 2030 If that a man his herte sette, That thanne he for no Slowthe lette To do what longeth to manhede. For if thou wolt the bokes rede Of Lancelot and othre mo, Ther miht thou sen hou it was tho Of armes, for thei wolde atteigne To love, which withoute peine Mai noght be gete of ydelnesse. And that I take to witnesse 2040 An old Cronique in special, The which into memorial Is write, for his loves sake Hou that a kniht schal undertake. Ther was a king, which Oe5nes Was hote, and he under his pes Hield Calidoyne in his Empire, And hadde a dowhter Deianire. Men wiste in thilke time non So fair a wiht as sche was on; 2050 And as sche was a lusti wiht, Riht so was thanne a noble kniht, To whom Mercurie fader was. This kniht the tuo pilers of bras, The whiche yit a man mai finde, Sette up in the desert of Ynde; That was the worthi Hercules, Whos name schal ben endeles For the merveilles whiche he wroghte. This Hercules the love soghte 2060 Of Deianire, and of this thing Unto hir fader, which was king, He spak touchende of Mariage. The king knowende his hih lignage, And dradde also hise mihtes sterne, To him ne dorste his dowhter werne; And natheles this he him seide, How Achelons er he ferst preide To wedden hire, and in accord Thei stode, as it was of record: 2070 Bot for al that this he him granteth, That which of hem that other daunteth In armes, him sche scholde take, And that the king hath undertake. This Achelons was a Geant, A soubtil man, a deceivant, Which thurgh magique and sorcerie Couthe al the world of tricherie: And whan that he this tale herde, Hou upon that the king ansuerde 2080 With Hercules he moste feighte, He tristeth noght upon his sleighte Al only, whan it comth to nede, Bot that which voydeth alle drede And every noble herte stereth, The love, that no lif forbereth, For his ladi, whom he desireth, With hardiesse his herte fyreth, And sende him word withoute faile That he wol take the bataille. 2090 Thei setten day, they chosen field, The knihtes coevered under Schield Togedre come at time set, And echon is with other met. It fell thei foghten bothe afote, Ther was no ston, ther was no rote, Which mihte letten hem the weie, But al was voide and take aweie. Thei smyten strokes bot a fewe, For Hercules, which wolde schewe 2100 His grete strengthe as for the nones, He sterte upon him al at ones And cawhte him in hise armes stronge. This Geant wot he mai noght longe Endure under so harde bondes, And thoghte he wolde out of hise hondes Be sleyhte in som manere ascape. And as he couthe himself forschape, In liknesse of an Eddre he slipte Out of his hond, and forth he skipte; 2110 And efte, as he that feighte wole, He torneth him into a Bole, And gan to belwe of such a soun, As thogh the world scholde al go doun: The ground he sporneth and he tranceth, Hise large hornes he avanceth And caste hem here and there aboute. Bot he, which stant of him no doute, Awaiteth wel whan that he cam, And him be bothe hornes nam 2120 And al at ones he him caste Unto the ground, and hield him faste, That he ne mihte with no sleighte Out of his hond gete upon heighte, Til he was overcome and yolde, And Hercules hath what he wolde. The king him granteth to fulfille His axinge at his oghne wille, And sche for whom he hadde served, Hire thoghte he hath hire wel deserved. 2130 And thus with gret decerte of Armes He wan him forto ligge in armes, As he which hath it dere aboght, For otherwise scholde he noght. And overthis if thou wolt hiere Upon knihthode of this matiere, Hou love and armes ben aqueinted, A man mai se bothe write and peinted So ferforth that Pantasilee, Which was the queene of Feminee, 2140 The love of Hector forto sieke And for thonour of armes eke, To Troie cam with Spere and Schield, And rod hirself into the field With Maidens armed al a route In rescouss of the toun aboute, Which with the Gregois was belein. Fro Pafagoine and as men sein, Which stant upon the worldes ende, That time it likede ek to wende 2150 To Philemenis, which was king, To Troie, and come upon this thing In helpe of thilke noble toun; And al was that for the renoun Of worschipe and of worldes fame, Of which he wolde bere a name: And so he dede, and forth withal He wan of love in special A fair tribut for everemo. For it fell thilke time so; 2160 Pirrus the Sone of Achilles This worthi queene among the press With dedli swerd soghte out and fond, And slowh hire with his oghne hond; Wherof this king of Pafagoine Pantasilee of Amazoine, Wher sche was queene, with him ladde, With suche Maidens as sche hadde Of hem that were left alyve, Forth in his Schip, til thei aryve; 2170 Wher that the body was begrave With worschipe, and the wommen save. And for the goodschipe of this dede Thei granten him a lusti mede, That every yeer as for truage To him and to his heritage Of Maidens faire he schal have thre. And in this wise spedde he, Which the fortune of armes soghte, With his travail his ese he boghte; 2180 For otherwise he scholde have failed, If that he hadde noght travailed. Eneas ek withinne Ytaile, Ne hadde he wonne the bataille And don his miht so besily Ayein king Turne his enemy, He hadde noght Lavine wonne; Bot for he hath him overronne And gete his pris, he gat hire love. Be these ensamples here above, 2190 Lo, now, mi Sone, as I have told, Thou miht wel se, who that is bold And dar travaile and undertake The cause of love, he schal be take The rathere unto loves grace; For comunliche in worthi place The wommen loven worthinesse Of manhode and of gentilesse, For the gentils ben most desired. Mi fader, bot I were enspired 2200 Thurgh lore of you, I wot no weie What gentilesce is forto seie, Wherof to telle I you beseche. The ground, Mi Sone, forto seche Upon this diffinicion, The worldes constitucion Hath set the name of gentilesse Upon the fortune of richesse Which of long time is falle in age. Thanne is a man of hih lignage 2210 After the forme, as thou miht hiere, Bot nothing after the matiere. For who that resoun understonde, Upon richesse it mai noght stonde, For that is thing which faileth ofte: For he that stant to day alofte And al the world hath in hise wones, Tomorwe he falleth al at ones Out of richesse into poverte, So that therof is no decerte, 2220 Which gentilesce makth abide. And forto loke on other side Hou that a gentil man is bore, Adam, which alle was tofore With Eve his wif, as of hem tuo, Al was aliche gentil tho; So that of generacion To make declaracion, Ther mai no gentilesce be. For to the reson if we se, 2230 Of mannes berthe the mesure, It is so comun to nature, That it yifth every man aliche, Als wel to povere as to the riche; For naked thei ben bore bothe, The lord nomore hath forto clothe As of himself that ilke throwe, Than hath the povereste of the rowe. And whan thei schulle both passe, I not of hem which hath the lasse 2240 Of worldes good, bot as of charge The lord is more forto charge, Whan god schal his accompte hiere, For he hath had hise lustes hiere. Bot of the bodi, which schal deie, Althogh ther be diverse weie To deth, yit is ther bot on ende, To which that every man schal wende, Als wel the beggere as the lord, Of o nature, of on acord: 2250 Sche which oure Eldemoder is, The Erthe, bothe that and this Receiveth and alich devoureth, That sche to nouther part favoureth. So wot I nothing after kinde Where I mai gentilesse finde. For lacke of vertu lacketh grace, Wherof richesse in many place, Whan men best wene forto stonde, Al sodeinly goth out of honde: 2260 Bot vertu set in the corage, Ther mai no world be so salvage, Which mihte it take and don aweie, Til whanne that the bodi deie; And thanne he schal be riched so, That it mai faile neveremo; So mai that wel be gentilesse, Which yifth so gret a sikernesse. For after the condicion Of resonable entencion, 2270 The which out of the Soule groweth And the vertu fro vice knoweth, Wherof a man the vice eschuieth, Withoute Slowthe and vertu suieth, That is a verrai gentil man, And nothing elles which he can, Ne which he hath, ne which he mai. Bot for al that yit nou aday, In loves court to taken hiede, The povere vertu schal noght spiede, 2280 Wher that the riche vice woweth; For sielde it is that love alloweth The gentil man withoute good, Thogh his condicion be good. Bot if a man of bothe tuo Be riche and vertuous also, Thanne is he wel the more worth: Bot yit to putte himselve forth He moste don his besinesse, For nowther good ne gentilesse 2290 Mai helpen him whiche ydel be. Bot who that wole in his degre Travaile so as it belongeth, It happeth ofte that he fongeth Worschipe and ese bothe tuo. For evere yit it hath be so, That love honeste in sondri weie Profiteth, for it doth aweie The vice, and as the bokes sein, It makth curteis of the vilein, 2300 And to the couard hardiesce It yifth, so that verrai prouesse Is caused upon loves reule To him that can manhode reule; And ek toward the wommanhiede, Who that therof wol taken hiede, For thei the betre affaited be In every thing, as men may se. For love hath evere hise lustes grene In gentil folk, as it is sene, 2310 Which thing ther mai no kinde areste: I trowe that ther is no beste, If he with love scholde aqueinte, That he ne wolde make it queinte As for the while that it laste. And thus I conclude ate laste, That thei ben ydel, as me semeth, Whiche unto thing that love demeth Forslowthen that thei scholden do. And overthis, mi Sone, also 2320 After the vertu moral eke To speke of love if I schal seke, Among the holi bokes wise I finde write in such a wise, "Who loveth noght is hier as ded"; For love above alle othre is hed, Which hath the vertus forto lede, Of al that unto mannes dede Belongeth: for of ydelschipe He hateth all the felaschipe. 2330 For Slowthe is evere to despise, Which in desdeign hath al apprise, And that acordeth noght to man: For he that wit and reson kan, It sit him wel that he travaile Upon som thing which mihte availe, For ydelschipe is noght comended, Bot every lawe it hath defended. And in ensample therupon The noble wise Salomon, 2340 Which hadde of every thing insihte, Seith, "As the briddes to the flihte Ben made, so the man is bore To labour," which is noght forbore To hem that thenken forto thryve. For we, whiche are now alyve, Of hem that besi whylom were, Als wel in Scole as elleswhere, Mowe every day ensample take, That if it were now to make 2350 Thing which that thei ferst founden oute, It scholde noght be broght aboute. Here lyves thanne were longe, Here wittes grete, here mihtes stronge, Here hertes ful of besinesse, Wherof the worldes redinesse In bodi bothe and in corage Stant evere upon his avantage. And forto drawe into memoire Here names bothe and here histoire, 2360 Upon the vertu of her dede In sondri bokes thou miht rede. Of every wisdom the parfit The hyhe god of his spirit Yaf to the men in Erthe hiere Upon the forme and the matiere Of that he wolde make hem wise: And thus cam in the ferste apprise Of bokes and of alle goode Thurgh hem that whilom understode 2370 The lore which to hem was yive, Wherof these othre, that now live, Ben every day to lerne newe. Bot er the time that men siewe, And that the labour forth it broghte, Ther was no corn, thogh men it soghte, In non of al the fieldes oute; And er the wisdom cam aboute Of hem that ferst the bokes write, This mai wel every wys man wite, 2380 Ther was gret labour ek also. Thus was non ydel of the tuo, That on the plogh hath undertake With labour which the hond hath take, That other tok to studie and muse, As he which wolde noght refuse The labour of hise wittes alle. And in this wise it is befalle, Of labour which that thei begunne We be now tawht of that we kunne: 2390 Here besinesse is yit so seene, That it stant evere alyche greene; Al be it so the bodi deie, The name of hem schal nevere aweie. In the Croniqes as I finde, Cham, whos labour is yit in minde, Was he which ferst the lettres fond And wrot in Hebreu with his hond: Of naturel Philosophie He fond ferst also the clergie. 2400 Cadmus the lettres of Gregois Ferst made upon his oghne chois. Theges of thing which schal befalle, He was the ferste Augurre of alle: And Philemon be the visage Fond to descrive the corage. Cladyns, Esdras and Sulpices, Termegis, Pandulf, Frigidilles, Menander, Ephiloquorus, Solins, Pandas and Josephus 2410 The ferste were of Enditours, Of old Cronique and ek auctours: And Heredot in his science Of metre, of rime and of cadence The ferste was of which men note. And of Musique also the note In mannes vois or softe or scharpe, That fond Jubal; and of the harpe The merie soun, which is to like, That fond Poulins forth with phisique. 2420 Zenzis fond ferst the pourtreture, And Promothe
s the Sculpture; After what forme that hem thoghte, The resemblance anon thei wroghte. Tubal in Iren and in Stel Fond ferst the forge and wroghte it wel: And Jadahel, as seith the bok, Ferst made Net and fisshes tok: Of huntynge ek he fond the chace, Which now is knowe in many place: 2430 A tente of cloth with corde and stake He sette up ferst and dede it make. Verconius of cokerie Ferst made the delicacie. The craft Minerve of wolle fond And made cloth hire oghne hond; And Delbora made it of lyn: Tho wommen were of great engyn. Bot thing which yifth ous mete and drinke And doth the labourer to swinke 2440 To tile lond and sette vines, Wherof the cornes and the wynes Ben sustenance to mankinde, In olde bokes as I finde, Saturnus of his oghne wit Hath founde ferst, and more yit Of Chapmanhode he fond the weie, And ek to coigne the moneie Of sondri metall, as it is, He was the ferste man of this. 2450 Bot hou that metall cam a place Thurgh mannes wit and goddes grace The route of Philosophres wise Controeveden be sondri wise, Ferst forto gete it out of Myne, And after forto trie and fyne. And also with gret diligence Thei founden thilke experience, Which cleped is Alconomie, Wherof the Selver multeplie 2460 Thei made and ek the gold also. And forto telle hou it is so, Of bodies sevene in special With foure spiritz joynt withal Stant the substance of this matiere. The bodies whiche I speke of hiere Of the Planetes ben begonne: The gold is titled to the Sonne, The mone of Selver hath his part, And Iren that stant upon Mart, 2470 The Led after Satorne groweth, And Jupiter the Bras bestoweth, The Coper set is to Venus, And to his part Mercurius Hath the quikselver, as it falleth, The which, after the bok it calleth, Is ferst of thilke fowre named Of Spiritz, whiche ben proclamed; And the spirit which is secounde In Sal Armoniak is founde: 2480 The thridde spirit Sulphur is; The ferthe suiende after this Arcennicum be name is hote. With blowinge and with fyres hote In these thinges, whiche I seie, Thei worchen be diverse weie. For as the philosophre tolde Of gold and selver, thei ben holde Tuo principal extremites, To whiche alle othre be degres 2490 Of the metalls ben acordant, And so thurgh kinde resemblant, That what man couthe aweie take The rust, of which thei waxen blake, And the savour and the hardnesse, Thei scholden take the liknesse Of gold or Selver parfitly. Bot forto worche it sikirly, Betwen the corps and the spirit, Er that the metall be parfit, 2500 In sevene formes it is set; Of alle and if that on be let, The remenant mai noght availe, Bot otherwise it mai noght faile. For thei be whom this art was founde To every point a certain bounde Ordeignen, that a man mai finde This craft is wroght be weie of kinde, So that ther is no fallas inne. Bot what man that this werk beginne, 2510 He mot awaite at every tyde, So that nothing be left aside, Ferst of the distillacion, Forth with the congelacion, Solucion, descencion, And kepe in his entencion The point of sublimacion, And forth with calcinacion Of veray approbacion Do that ther be fixacion 2520 With tempred hetes of the fyr, Til he the parfit Elixir Of thilke philosophres Ston Mai gete, of which that many on Of Philosophres whilom write. And if thou wolt the names wite Of thilke Ston with othre tuo, Whiche as the clerkes maden tho, So as the bokes it recorden, The kinde of hem I schal recorden. 2530 These olde Philosophres wyse Be weie of kinde in sondri wise Thre Stones maden thurgh clergie. The ferste, if I schal specefie, Was lapis vegetabilis, Of which the propre vertu is To mannes hele forto serve, As forto kepe and to preserve The bodi fro siknesses alle, Til deth of kinde upon him falle. 2540 The Ston seconde I thee behote Is lapis animalis hote, The whos vertu is propre and cowth For Ere and yhe and nase and mouth, Wherof a man mai hiere and se And smelle and taste in his degre, And forto fiele and forto go It helpeth man of bothe tuo: The wittes fyve he underfongeth To kepe, as it to him belongeth. 2550 The thridde Ston in special Be name is cleped Minerall, Which the metalls of every Mine Attempreth, til that thei ben fyne, And pureth hem be such a weie, That al the vice goth aweie Of rust, of stink and of hardnesse: And whan thei ben of such clennesse, This Mineral, so as I finde, Transformeth al the ferste kynde 2560 And makth hem able to conceive Thurgh his vertu, and to receive Bothe in substance and in figure Of gold and selver the nature. For thei tuo ben thextremetes, To whiche after the propretes Hath every metal his desir, With help and confort of the fyr Forth with this Ston, as it is seid, Which to the Sonne and Mone is leid; 2570 For to the rede and to the whyte This Ston hath pouer to profite. It makth mulptiplicacioun Of gold, and the fixacioun It causeth, and of his habit He doth the werk to be parfit Of thilke Elixer which men calle Alconomie, as is befalle To hem that whilom weren wise. Bot now it stant al otherwise; 2580 Thei speken faste of thilke Ston, Bot hou to make it, nou wot non After the sothe experience. And natheles gret diligence Thei setten upon thilke dede, And spille more than thei spede; For allewey thei finde a lette, Which bringeth in poverte and dette To hem that riche were afore: The lost is had, the lucre is lore, 2590 To gete a pound thei spenden fyve; I not hou such a craft schal thryve In the manere as it is used: It were betre be refused Than forto worchen upon weene In thing which stant noght as thei weene. Bot noght forthi, who that it knewe, The science of himself is trewe Upon the forme as it was founded, Wherof the names yit ben grounded 2600 Of hem that ferste it founden oute; And thus the fame goth aboute To suche as soghten besinesse Of vertu and of worthinesse. Of whom if I the names calle, Hermes was on the ferste of alle, To whom this art is most applied; Geber therof was magnefied, And Ortolan and Morien, Among the whiche is Avicen, 2610 Which fond and wrot a gret partie The practique of Alconomie; Whos bokes, pleinli as thei stonde Upon this craft, fewe understonde; Bot yit to put hem in assai Ther ben full manye now aday, That knowen litel what thei meene. It is noght on to wite and weene; In forme of wordes thei it trete, Bot yit they failen of beyete, 2620 For of tomoche or of tolyte Ther is algate founde a wyte, So that thei folwe noght the lyne Of the parfite medicine, Which grounded is upon nature. Bot thei that writen the scripture Of Grek, Arabe and of Caldee, Thei were of such Auctorite That thei ferst founden out the weie Of al that thou hast herd me seie; 2630 Wherof the Cronique of her lore Schal stonde in pris for everemore. Bot toward oure Marches hiere, Of the Latins if thou wolt hiere, Of hem that whilom vertuous Were and therto laborious, Carmente made of hire engin The ferste lettres of Latin, Of which the tunge Romein cam, Wherof that Aristarchus nam 2640 Forth with Donat and Dindimus The ferste reule of Scole, as thus, How that Latin schal be componed And in what wise it schal be soned, That every word in his degre Schal stonde upon congruite. And thilke time at Rome also Was Tullius with Cithero, That writen upon Rethorike, Hou that men schal the wordes pike 2650 After the forme of eloquence, Which is, men sein, a gret prudence: And after that out of Hebreu Jerom, which the langage kneu, The Bible, in which the lawe is closed, Into Latin he hath transposed; And many an other writere ek Out of Caldee, Arabe and Grek With gret labour the bokes wise Translateden. And otherwise 2660 The Latins of hemself also Here studie at thilke time so With gret travaile of Scole toke In sondri forme forto boke, That we mai take here evidences Upon the lore of the Sciences, Of craftes bothe and of clergie; Among the whiche in Poesie To the lovers Ovide wrot And tawhte, if love be to hot, 2670 In what manere it scholde akiele. Forthi, mi Sone, if that thou fiele That love wringe thee to sore, Behold Ovide and take his lore. My fader, if thei mihte spede Mi love, I wolde his bokes rede; And if thei techen to restreigne Mi love, it were an ydel peine To lerne a thing which mai noght be. For lich unto the greene tree, 2680 If that men toke his rote aweie, Riht so myn herte scholde deie, If that mi love be withdrawe. Wherof touchende unto this sawe There is bot only to poursuie Mi love, and ydelschipe eschuie. Mi goode Sone, soth to seie, If ther be siker eny weie To love, thou hast seid the beste: For who that wolde have al his reste 2690 And do no travail at the nede, It is no resoun that he spede In loves cause forto winne; For he which dar nothing beginne, I not what thing he scholde achieve. Bot overthis thou schalt believe, So as it sit thee wel to knowe, That ther ben othre vices slowe, Whiche unto love don gret lette, If thou thin herte upon hem sette. 2700 Toward the Slowe progenie Ther is yit on of compaignie, And he is cleped Sompnolence, Which doth to Slouthe his reverence, As he which is his Chamberlein, That many an hundrid time hath lein To slepe, whan he scholde wake. He hath with love trewes take, That wake who so wake wile, If he mai couche a doun his bile, 2710 He hath al wowed what him list; That ofte he goth to bedde unkist, And seith that for no Druerie He wol noght leve his sluggardie. For thogh noman it wole allowe, To slepe levere than to wowe Is his manere, and thus on nyhtes, Whan that he seth the lusti knyhtes Revelen, wher these wommen are, Awey he skulketh as an hare, 2720 And goth to bedde and leith him softe, And of his Slouthe he dremeth ofte Hou that he stiketh in the Myr, And hou he sitteth be the fyr And claweth on his bare schanckes, And hou he clymbeth up the banckes And falleth into Slades depe. Bot thanne who so toke kepe, Whanne he is falle in such a drem, Riht as a Schip ayein the Strem, 2730 He routeth with a slepi noise, And brustleth as a monkes froise, Whanne it is throwe into the Panne. And otherwhile sielde whanne That he mai dreme a lusti swevene, Him thenkth as thogh he were in hevene And as the world were holi his: And thanne he spekth of that and this, And makth his exposicion After the disposicion 2740 Of that he wolde, and in such wise He doth to love all his service; I not what thonk he schal deserve. Bot, Sone, if thou wolt love serve, I rede that thou do noght so. Ha, goode fader, certes no. I hadde levere be mi trowthe, Er I were set on such a slouthe And beere such a slepi snoute, Bothe yhen of myn hed were oute. 2750 For me were betre fulli die, Thanne I of such a slugardie Hadde eny name, god me schilde; For whan mi moder was with childe, And I lay in hire wombe clos, I wolde rathere Atropos, Which is goddesse of alle deth, Anon as I hadde eny breth, Me hadde fro mi Moder cast. Bot now I am nothing agast, 2760 I thonke godd; for Lachesis, Ne Cloto, which hire felawe is, Me schopen no such destine, Whan thei at mi nativite My weerdes setten as thei wolde; Bot thei me schopen that I scholde Eschuie of slep the truandise, So that I hope in such a wise To love forto ben excused, That I no Sompnolence have used. 2770 For certes, fader Genius, Yit into nou it hath be thus, At alle time if it befelle So that I mihte come and duelle In place ther my ladi were, I was noght slow ne slepi there: For thanne I dar wel undertake, That whanne hir list on nyhtes wake In chambre as to carole and daunce, Me thenkth I mai me more avaunce, 2780 If I mai gon upon hir hond, Thanne if I wonne a kinges lond. For whanne I mai hire hand beclippe, With such gladnesse I daunce and skippe, Me thenkth I touche noght the flor; The Ro, which renneth on the Mor, Is thanne noght so lyht as I: So mow ye witen wel forthi, That for the time slep I hate. And whanne it falleth othergate, 2790 So that hire like noght to daunce, Bot on the Dees to caste chaunce Or axe of love som demande, Or elles that hir list comaunde To rede and here of Troilus, Riht as sche wole or so or thus, I am al redi to consente. And if so is that I mai hente Somtime among a good leisir, So as I dar of mi desir 2800 I telle a part; bot whanne I preie, Anon sche bidt me go mi weie And seith it is ferr in the nyht; And I swere it is even liht. Bot as it falleth ate laste, Ther mai no worldes joie laste, So mot I nedes fro hire wende And of my wachche make an ende: And if sche thanne hiede toke, Hou pitousliche on hire I loke, 2810 Whan that I schal my leve take, Hire oghte of mercy forto slake Hire daunger, which seith evere nay. Bot he seith often, "Have good day," That loth is forto take his leve: Therfore, while I mai beleve, I tarie forth the nyht along, For it is noght on me along To slep that I so sone go, Til that I mot algate so; 2820 And thanne I bidde godd hire se, And so doun knelende on mi kne I take leve, and if I schal, I kisse hire, and go forth withal. And otherwhile, if that I dore, Er I come fulli to the Dore, I torne ayein and feigne a thing, As thogh I hadde lost a Ring Or somwhat elles, for I wolde Kisse hire eftsones, if I scholde, 2830 Bot selden is that I so spede. And whanne I se that I mot nede Departen, I departe, and thanne With al myn herte I curse and banne That evere slep was mad for yhe; For, as me thenkth, I mihte dryhe Withoute slep to waken evere, So that I scholde noght dissevere Fro hire, in whom is al my liht: And thanne I curse also the nyht 2840 With al the will of mi corage, And seie, "Awey, thou blake ymage, Which of thi derke cloudy face Makst al the worldes lyht deface, And causest unto slep a weie, Be which I mot nou gon aweie Out of mi ladi compaignie. O slepi nyht, I thee defie, And wolde that thou leye in presse With Proserpine the goddesse 2850 And with Pluto the helle king: For til I se the daies spring, I sette slep noght at a risshe." And with that word I sike and wisshe, And seie, "Ha, whi ne were it day? For yit mi ladi thanne I may Beholde, thogh I do nomore." And efte I thenke forthermore, To som man hou the niht doth ese, Whan he hath thing that mai him plese 2860 The longe nyhtes be his side, Where as I faile and go beside. Bot slep, I not wherof it serveth, Of which noman his thonk deserveth To gete him love in eny place, Bot is an hindrere of his grace And makth him ded as for a throwe, Riht as a Stok were overthrowe. And so, mi fader, in this wise The slepi nyhtes I despise, 2870 And evere amiddes of mi tale I thenke upon the nyhtingale, Which slepeth noght be weie of kinde For love, in bokes as I finde. Thus ate laste I go to bedde, And yit min herte lith to wedde With hire, wher as I cam fro; Thogh I departe, he wol noght so, Ther is no lock mai schette him oute, Him nedeth noght to gon aboute, 2880 That perce mai the harde wall; Thus is he with hire overall, That be hire lief, or be hire loth, Into hire bedd myn herte goth, And softly takth hire in his arm And fieleth hou that sche is warm, And wissheth that his body were To fiele that he fieleth there. And thus miselven I tormente, Til that the dede slep me hente: 2890 Bot thanne be a thousand score Welmore than I was tofore I am tormented in mi slep, Bot that I dreme is noght of schep; For I ne thenke noght on wulle, Bot I am drecched to the fulle Of love, that I have to kepe, That nou I lawhe and nou I wepe, And nou I lese and nou I winne, And nou I ende and nou beginne. 2900 And otherwhile I dreme and mete That I al one with hire mete And that Danger is left behinde; And thanne in slep such joie I finde, That I ne bede nevere awake. Bot after, whanne I hiede take, And schal arise upon the morwe, Thanne is al torned into sorwe, Noght for the cause I schal arise, Bot for I mette in such a wise, 2910 And ate laste I am bethoght That al is vein and helpeth noght: Bot yit me thenketh be my wille I wolde have leie and slepe stille, To meten evere of such a swevene, For thanne I hadde a slepi hevene. Mi Sone, and for thou tellest so, A man mai finde of time ago That many a swevene hath be certein, Al be it so, that som men sein 2920 That swevenes ben of no credence. Bot forto schewe in evidence That thei fulofte sothe thinges Betokne, I thenke in my wrytinges To telle a tale therupon, Which fell be olde daies gon. This finde I write in Poesie: Cei5x the king of Trocinie Hadde Alceone to his wif, Which as hire oghne hertes lif 2930 Him loveth; and he hadde also A brother, which was cleped tho Dedalion, and he per cas Fro kinde of man forschape was Into a Goshauk of liknesse; Wherof the king gret hevynesse Hath take, and thoghte in his corage To gon upon a pelrinage Into a strange regioun, Wher he hath his devocioun 2940 To don his sacrifice and preie, If that he mihte in eny weie Toward the goddes finde grace His brother hele to pourchace, So that he mihte be reformed Of that he hadde be transformed. To this pourpos and to this ende This king is redy forto wende, As he which wolde go be Schipe; And forto don him felaschipe 2950 His wif unto the See him broghte, With al hire herte and him besoghte, That he the time hire wolde sein, Whan that he thoghte come ayein: "Withinne," he seith, "tuo Monthe day." And thus in al the haste he may He tok his leve, and forth he seileth Wepende, and sche hirself beweileth, And torneth hom, ther sche cam fro. Bot whan the Monthes were ago, 2960 The whiche he sette of his comynge, And that sche herde no tydinge, Ther was no care forto seche: Wherof the goddes to beseche Tho sche began in many wise, And to Juno hire sacrifise Above alle othre most sche dede, And for hir lord sche hath so bede To wite and knowe hou that he ferde, That Juno the goddesse hire herde, 2970 Anon and upon this matiere Sche bad Yris hir Messagere To Slepes hous that sche schal wende, And bidde him that he make an ende Be swevene and schewen al the cas Unto this ladi, hou it was. This Yris, fro the hihe stage Which undertake hath the Message, Hire reyny Cope dede upon, The which was wonderli begon 2980 With colours of diverse hewe, An hundred mo than men it knewe; The hevene lich into a bowe Sche bende, and so she cam doun lowe, The god of Slep wher that sche fond. And that was in a strange lond, Which marcheth upon Chymerie: For ther, as seith the Poesie, The god of Slep hath mad his hous, Which of entaille is merveilous. 2990 Under an hell ther is a Cave, Which of the Sonne mai noght have, So that noman mai knowe ariht The point betwen the dai and nyht: Ther is no fyr, ther is no sparke, Ther is no dore, which mai charke, Wherof an yhe scholde unschette, So that inward ther is no lette. And forto speke of that withoute, Ther stant no gret Tree nyh aboute 3000 Wher on ther myhte crowe or pie Alihte, forto clepe or crie: Ther is no cok to crowe day, Ne beste non which noise may The hell, bot al aboute round Ther is growende upon the ground Popi, which berth the sed of slep, With othre herbes suche an hep. A stille water for the nones Rennende upon the smale stones, 3010 Which hihte of Lethes the rivere, Under that hell in such manere Ther is, which yifth gret appetit To slepe. And thus full of delit Slep hath his hous; and of his couche Withinne his chambre if I schal touche, Of hebenus that slepi Tree The bordes al aboute be, And for he scholde slepe softe, Upon a fethrebed alofte 3020 He lith with many a pilwe of doun: The chambre is strowed up and doun With swevenes many thousendfold. Thus cam Yris into this hold, And to the bedd, which is al blak, Sche goth, and ther with Slep sche spak, And in the wise as sche was bede The Message of Juno sche dede. Fulofte hir wordes sche reherceth, Er sche his slepi Eres perceth; 3030 With mochel wo bot ate laste His slombrende yhen he upcaste And seide hir that it schal be do. Wherof among a thousend tho, Withinne his hous that slepi were, In special he ches out there Thre, whiche scholden do this dede: The ferste of hem, so as I rede, Was Morphe
s, the whos nature Is forto take the figure 3040 Of what persone that him liketh, Wherof that he fulofte entriketh The lif which slepe schal be nyhte; And Ithecus that other hihte, Which hath the vois of every soun, The chiere and the condicioun Of every lif, what so it is: The thridde suiende after this Is Panthasas, which may transforme Of every thing the rihte forme, 3050 And change it in an other kinde. Upon hem thre, so as I finde, Of swevenes stant al thapparence, Which otherwhile is evidence And otherwhile bot a jape. Bot natheles it is so schape, That Morphe
s be nyht al one Appiereth until Alceone In liknesse of hir housebonde Al naked ded upon the stronde, 3060 And hou he dreynte in special These othre tuo it schewen al. The tempeste of the blake cloude, The wode See, the wyndes loude, Al this sche mette, and sih him dyen; Wherof that sche began to crien, Slepende abedde ther sche lay, And with that noise of hire affray Hir wommen sterten up aboute, Whiche of here ladi were in doute, 3070 And axen hire hou that sche ferde; And sche, riht as sche syh and herde, Hir swevene hath told hem everydel. And thei it halsen alle wel And sein it is a tokne of goode; Bot til sche wiste hou that it stode, Sche hath no confort in hire herte, Upon the morwe and up sche sterte, And to the See, wher that sche mette The bodi lay, withoute lette 3080 Sche drowh, and whan that sche cam nyh, Stark ded, hise harmes sprad, sche syh Hire lord flietende upon the wawe. Wherof hire wittes ben withdrawe, And sche, which tok of deth no kepe, Anon forth lepte into the depe And wolde have cawht him in hire arm. This infortune of double harm The goddes fro the hevene above Behielde, and for the trowthe of love, 3090 Which in this worthi ladi stod, Thei have upon the salte flod Hire dreinte lord and hire also Fro deth to lyve torned so, That thei ben schapen into briddes Swimmende upon the wawe amiddes. And whan sche sih hire lord livende In liknesse of a bridd swimmende, And sche was of the same sort, So as sche mihte do desport, 3100 Upon the joie which sche hadde Hire wynges bothe abrod sche spradde, And him, so as sche mai suffise, Beclipte and keste in such a wise, As sche was whilom wont to do: Hire wynges for hire armes tuo Sche tok, and for hire lippes softe Hire harde bile, and so fulofte Sche fondeth in hire briddes forme, If that sche mihte hirself conforme 3110 To do the plesance of a wif, As sche dede in that other lif: For thogh sche hadde hir pouer lore, Hir will stod as it was tofore, And serveth him so as sche mai. Wherof into this ilke day Togedre upon the See thei wone, Wher many a dowhter and a Sone Thei bringen forth of briddes kinde; And for men scholden take in mynde 3120 This Alceoun the trewe queene, Hire briddes yit, as it is seene, Of Alceoun the name bere. Lo thus, mi Sone, it mai thee stere Of swevenes forto take kepe, For ofte time a man aslepe Mai se what after schal betide. Forthi it helpeth at som tyde A man to slepe, as it belongeth, Bot slowthe no lif underfongeth 3130 Which is to love appourtenant. Mi fader, upon covenant I dar wel make this avou, Of all mi lif that into nou, Als fer as I can understonde, Yit tok I nevere Slep on honde, Whan it was time forto wake; For thogh myn yhe it wolde take, Min herte is evere therayein. Bot natheles to speke it plein, 3140 Al this that I have seid you hiere Of my wakinge, as ye mai hiere, It toucheth to mi lady swete; For otherwise, I you behiete, In strange place whanne I go, Me list nothing to wake so. For whan the wommen listen pleie, And I hir se noght in the weie, Of whom I scholde merthe take, Me list noght longe forto wake, 3150 Bot if it be for pure schame, Of that I wolde eschuie a name, That thei ne scholde have cause non To seie, "Ha, lo, wher goth such on, That hath forlore his contenaunce]" And thus among I singe and daunce, And feigne lust ther as non is. For ofte sithe I fiele this; Of thoght, which in mi herte falleth Whanne it is nyht, myn hed appalleth, 3160 And that is for I se hire noght, Which is the wakere of mi thoght: And thus as tymliche as I may, Fulofte whanne it is brod day, I take of all these othre leve And go my weie, and thei beleve, That sen per cas here loves there; And I go forth as noght ne were Unto mi bedd, so that al one I mai ther ligge and sighe and grone 3170 And wisshen al the longe nyht, Til that I se the daies lyht. I not if that be Sompnolence, Bot upon youre conscience, Min holi fader, demeth ye. My Sone, I am wel paid with thee, Of Slep that thou the Sluggardie Be nyhte in loves compaignie Eschuied hast, and do thi peine So that thi love thar noght pleine: 3180 For love upon his lust wakende Is evere, and wolde that non ende Were of the longe