Confessio Amantis - Tales Of The Seven Deadly Sins, 1330-1408 A.D. - Incipit Liber Quartus

Dicunt accidiam fore nutricem viciorum,     Torpet et in cunctis tarda que lenta bonis:     Que fieri possent hodie transfert piger in cras,     Furatoque prius ostia claudit equo.     Poscenti tardo negat emolumenta Cupido,     Set Venus in celeri ludit amore viri.     Upon the vices to procede     After the cause of mannes dede,     The ferste point of Slowthe I calle     Lachesce, and is the chief of alle,     And hath this propreliche of kinde,     To leven alle thing behinde.     Of that he mihte do now hier     He tarieth al the longe yer,     And everemore he seith, "Tomorwe";     And so he wol his time borwe,     10     And wissheth after "God me sende,"     That whan he weneth have an ende,     Thanne is he ferthest to beginne.     Thus bringth he many a meschief inne     Unwar, til that he be meschieved,     And may noght thanne be relieved.     And riht so nowther mor ne lesse     It stant of love and of lachesce:     Som time he slowtheth in a day     That he nevere after gete mai.    20     Now, Sone, as of this ilke thing,     If thou have eny knowleching,     That thou to love hast don er this,     Tell on. Mi goode fader, yis.     As of lachesce I am beknowe     That I mai stonde upon his rowe,     As I that am clad of his suite:     For whanne I thoghte mi poursuite     To make, and therto sette a day     To speke unto the swete May,        30     Lachesce bad abide yit,     And bar on hond it was no wit     Ne time forto speke as tho.     Thus with his tales to and fro     Mi time in tariinge he drowh:     Whan ther was time good ynowh,     He seide, "An other time is bettre;     Thou schalt mowe senden hire a lettre,     And per cas wryte more plein     Than thou be Mowthe durstest sein."     40     Thus have I lete time slyde     For Slowthe, and kepte noght my tide,     So that lachesce with his vice     Fulofte hath mad my wit so nyce,     That what I thoghte speke or do     With tariinge he hield me so,     Til whanne I wolde and mihte noght.     I not what thing was in my thoght,     Or it was drede, or it was schame;     Bot evere in ernest and in game        50     I wot ther is long time passed.     Bot yit is noght the love lassed,     Which I unto mi ladi have;     For thogh my tunge is slowh to crave     At alle time, as I have bede,     Min herte stant evere in o stede     And axeth besiliche grace,     The which I mai noght yit embrace.     And god wot that is malgre myn;     For this I wot riht wel a fin,    60     Mi grace comth so selde aboute,     That is the Slowthe of which I doute     Mor than of al the remenant     Which is to love appourtenant.     And thus as touchende of lachesce,     As I have told, I me confesse     To you, mi fader, and beseche     That furthermor ye wol me teche;     And if ther be to this matiere     Som goodly tale forto liere    70     How I mai do lachesce aweie,     That ye it wolden telle I preie.     To wisse thee, my Sone, and rede,     Among the tales whiche I rede,     An old ensample therupon     Now herkne, and I wol tellen on.     Ayein Lachesce in loves cas     I finde how whilom Eneas,     Whom Anchises to Sone hadde,     With gret navie, which he ladde        80     Fro Troie, aryveth at Cartage,     Wher for a while his herbergage     He tok; and it betidde so,     With hire which was qweene tho     Of the Cite his aqueintance     He wan, whos name in remembrance     Is yit, and Dido sche was hote;     Which loveth Eneas so hote     Upon the wordes whiche he seide,     That al hire herte on him sche leide    90     And dede al holi what he wolde.     Bot after that, as it be scholde,     Fro thenne he goth toward Ytaile     Be Schipe, and there his arivaile     Hath take, and schop him forto ryde.     Bot sche, which mai noght longe abide     The hote peine of loves throwe,     Anon withinne a litel throwe     A lettre unto hir kniht hath write,     And dede him pleinly forto wite,         100     If he made eny tariinge,     To drecche of his ayeincomynge,     That sche ne mihte him fiele and se,     Sche scholde stonde in such degre     As whilom stod a Swan tofore,     Of that sche hadde hire make lore;     For sorwe a fethere into hire brain     Sche schof and hath hireselve slain;     As king Menander in a lay     The sothe hath founde, wher sche lay    110     Sprantlende with hire wynges tweie,     As sche which scholde thanne deie     For love of him which was hire make.     "And so schal I do for thi sake,"     This qweene seide, "wel I wot."     Lo, to Enee thus sche wrot     With many an other word of pleinte:     Bot he, which hadde hise thoghtes feinte     Towardes love and full of Slowthe,     His time lette, and that was rowthe:    120     For sche, which loveth him tofore,     Desireth evere more and more,     And whan sche sih him tarie so,     Hire herte was so full of wo,     That compleignende manyfold     Sche hath hire oghne tale told,     Unto hirself and thus sche spak:     "Ha, who fond evere such a lak     Of Slowthe in eny worthi kniht?     Now wot I wel my deth is diht     130     Thurgh him which scholde have be mi lif."     Bot forto stinten al this strif,     Thus whan sche sih non other bote,     Riht evene unto hire herte rote     A naked swerd anon sche threste,     And thus sche gat hireselve reste     In remembrance of alle slowe.     Wherof, my Sone, thou miht knowe     How tariinge upon the nede     In loves cause is forto drede;    140     And that hath Dido sore aboght,     Whos deth schal evere be bethoght.     And overmore if I schal seche     In this matiere an other spieche,     In a Cronique I finde write     A tale which is good to wite.     At Troie whan king Ulixes     Upon the Siege among the pres     Of hem that worthi knihtes were     Abod long time stille there,        150     In thilke time a man mai se     How goodli that Penolope,     Which was to him his trewe wif,     Of his lachesce was pleintif;     Wherof to Troie sche him sende     Hire will be lettre, thus spekende:     "Mi worthi love and lord also,     It is and hath ben evere so,     That wher a womman is al one,     It makth a man in his persone     160     The more hardi forto wowe,     In hope that sche wolde bowe     To such thing as his wille were,     Whil that hire lord were elleswhere.     And of miself I telle this;     For it so longe passed is,     Sithe ferst than ye fro home wente,     That welnyh every man his wente     To there I am, whil ye ben oute,     Hath mad, and ech of hem aboute,     170     Which love can, my love secheth,     With gret preiere and me besecheth:     And some maken gret manace,     That if thei mihten come in place,     Wher that thei mihte here wille have,     Ther is nothing me scholde save,     That thei ne wolde werche thinges;     And some tellen me tidynges     That ye ben ded, and some sein     That certeinly ye ben besein        180     To love a newe and leve me.     Bot hou as evere that it be,     I thonke unto the goddes alle,     As yit for oght that is befalle     Mai noman do my chekes rede:     Bot natheles it is to drede,     That Lachesse in continuance     Fortune mihte such a chance,     Which noman after scholde amende."     Lo, thus this ladi compleignende     190     A lettre unto hire lord hath write,     And preyde him that he wolde wite     And thenke hou that sche was al his,     And that he tarie noght in this,     Bot that he wolde his love aquite,     To hire ayeinward and noght wryte,     Bot come himself in alle haste,     That he non other paper waste;     So that he kepe and holde his trowthe     Withoute lette of eny Slowthe.    200     Unto hire lord and love liege     To Troie, wher the grete Siege     Was leid, this lettre was conveied.     And he, which wisdom hath pourveied     Of al that to reson belongeth,     With gentil herte it underfongeth:     And whan he hath it overrad,     In part he was riht inly glad,     And ek in part he was desesed:     Bot love his herte hath so thorghsesed     210     With pure ymaginacioun,     That for non occupacioun     Which he can take on other side,     He mai noght flitt his herte aside     Fro that his wif him hadde enformed;     Wherof he hath himself conformed     With al the wille of his corage     To schape and take the viage     Homward, what time that he mai:     So that him thenketh of a day     220     A thousand yer, til he mai se     The visage of Penolope,     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 nyhtes set.     Wherof that thou be war the bet,     To telle a tale I am bethoght,     Hou love and Slep acorden noght.     For love who that list to wake     Be nyhte, he mai ensample take     Of Cephalus, whan that    he lay     With Aurora that swete may     3190     In armes all the longe nyht.     Bot whanne it drogh toward the liht,     That he withinne his herte sih     The dai which was amorwe nyh,     Anon unto the Sonne he preide     For lust of love, and thus he seide:     "O Phebus, which the daies liht     Governest, til that it be nyht,     And gladest every creature     After the lawe of thi nature,-    3200     Bot natheles ther is a thing,     Which onli to the knouleching     Belongeth as in privete     To love and to his duete,     Which asketh noght to ben apert,     Bot in cilence and in covert     Desireth forto be beschaded:     And thus whan that thi liht is faded     And Vesper scheweth him alofte,     And that the nyht is long and softe,    3210     Under the cloudes derke and stille     Thanne hath this thing most of his wille.     Forthi unto thi myhtes hyhe,     As thou which art the daies yhe,     Of love and myht no conseil hyde,     Upon this derke nyhtes tyde     With al myn herte I thee beseche     That I plesance myhte seche     With hire which lith in min armes.     Withdrawgh the Banere of thin Armes,    3220     And let thi lyhtes ben unborn,     And in the Signe of Capricorn,     The hous appropred to Satorne,     I preie that thou wolt sojorne,     Wher ben the nihtes derke and longe:     For I mi love have underfonge,     Which lith hier be mi syde naked,     As sche which wolde ben awaked,     And me lest nothing forto slepe.     So were it good to take kepe        3230     Nou at this nede of mi preiere,     And that the like forto stiere     Thi fyri Carte, and so ordeigne,     That thou thi swifte hors restreigne     Lowe under Erthe in Occident,     That thei towardes Orient     Be Cercle go the longe weie.     And ek to thee, Diane, I preie,     Which cleped art of thi noblesse     The nyhtes Mone and the goddesse,    3240     That thou to me be gracious:     And in Cancro thin oghne hous     Ayein Phebus in opposit     Stond al this time, and of delit     Behold Venus with a glad yhe.     For thanne upon Astronomie     Of due constellacion     Thou makst prolificacion,     And dost that children ben begete:     Which grace if that I mihte gete,            3250     With al myn herte I wolde serve     Be nyhte, and thi vigile observe."     Lo, thus this lusti Cephalus     Preide unto Phebe and to Phebus     The nyht in lengthe forto drawe,     So that he mihte do the lawe     In thilke point of loves heste,     Which cleped is the nyhtes feste,     Withoute Slep of sluggardie;     Which Venus out of compaignie     3260     Hath put awey, as thilke same,     Which lustles ferr from alle game     In chambre doth fulofte wo     Abedde, whanne it falleth so     That love scholde ben awaited.     But Slowthe, which is evele affaited,     With Slep hath mad his retenue,     That what thing is to love due,     Of all his dette he paieth non:     He wot noght how the nyht is gon     3270     Ne hou the day is come aboute,     Bot onli forto slepe and route     Til hyh midday, that he arise.     Bot Cephalus dede otherwise,     As thou, my Sone, hast herd above.     Mi fader, who that hath his love     Abedde naked be his syde,     And wolde thanne hise yhen hyde     With Slep, I not what man is he:     Bot certes as touchende of me,    3280     That fell me nevere yit er this.     Bot otherwhile, whan so is     That I mai cacche Slep on honde     Liggende al one, thanne I fonde     To dreme a merie swevene er day;     And if so falle that I may     Mi thought with such a swevene plese,     Me thenkth I am somdiel in ese,     For I non other confort have.     So nedeth noght that I schal crave        3290     The Sonnes Carte forto tarie,     Ne yit the Mone, that sche carie     Hire cours along upon the hevene,     For I am noght the more in evene     Towardes love in no degree:     Bot in mi slep yit thanne I se     Somwhat in swevene of that me liketh,     Which afterward min herte entriketh,     Whan that I finde it otherwise.     So wot I noght of what servise    3300     That Slep to mannes ese doth.     Mi Sone, certes thou seist soth,     Bot only that it helpeth kinde     Somtyme, in Phisique as I finde,     Whan it is take be mesure:     Bot he which can no Slep mesure     Upon the reule as it belongeth,     Fulofte of sodein chance he fongeth     Such infortune that him grieveth.     Bot who these olde bokes lieveth,    3310     Of Sompnolence hou it is write,     Ther may a man the sothe wite,     If that he wolde ensample take,     That otherwhile is good to wake:     Wherof a tale in Poesie     I thenke forto specefie.     Ovide telleth in his sawes,     How Jupiter be olde dawes     Lay be a Mayde, which Yo     Was cleped, wherof that Juno        3320     His wif was wroth, and the goddesse     Of Yo torneth the liknesse     Into a cow, to gon theroute     The large fieldes al aboute     And gete hire mete upon the griene.     And therupon this hyhe queene     Betok hire Argus forto kepe,     For he was selden wont to slepe,     And yit he hadde an hundred yhen,     And alle alyche wel thei syhen.        3330     Now herkne hou that he was beguiled.     Mercurie, which was al affiled     This Cow to stele, he cam desguised,     And hadde a Pipe wel devised     Upon the notes of Musiqe,     Wherof he mihte hise Eres like.     And over that he hadde affaited     Hise lusti tales, and awaited     His time; and thus into the field     He cam, where Argus he behield    3340     With Yo, which beside him wente.     With that his Pype on honde he hente,     And gan to pipe in his manere     Thing which was slepi forto hiere;     And in his pipinge evere among     He tolde him such a lusti song,     That he the fol hath broght aslepe.     Ther was non yhe mihte kepe     His hed, the which Mercurie of smot,     And forth withal anon fot hot     3350     He stal the Cow which Argus kepte,     And al this fell for that he slepte.     Ensample it was to manye mo,     That mochel Slep doth ofte wo,     Whan it is time forto wake:     For if a man this vice take,     In Sompnolence and him delite,     Men scholde upon his Dore wryte     His epitaphe, as on his grave;     For he to spille and noght to save        3360     Is schape, as thogh he were ded.     Forthi, mi Sone, hold up thin hed,     And let no Slep thin yhe englue,     Bot whanne it is to resoun due.     Mi fader, as touchende of this,     Riht so as I you tolde it is,     That ofte abedde, whanne I scholde,     I mai noght slepe, thogh I wolde;     For love is evere faste byme,     Which takth no hiede of due time.    3370     For whanne I schal myn yhen close,     Anon min herte he wole oppose     And holde his Scole in such a wise,     Til it be day that I arise,     That selde it is whan that I slepe.     And thus fro Sompnolence I kepe     Min yhe: and forthi if ther be     Oght elles more in this degre,     Now axeth forth. Mi Sone, yis:     For Slowthe, which as Moder is    3380     The forthdrawere and the Norrice     To man of many a dredful vice,     Hath yit an other laste of alle,     Which many a man hath mad to falle,     Wher that he mihte nevere arise;     Wherof for thou thee schalt avise,     Er thou so with thiself misfare,     What vice it is I wol declare.     Whan Slowthe hath don al that he may     To dryve forth the longe day,     3390     Til it be come to the nede,     Thanne ate laste upon the dede     He loketh hou his time is lore,     And is so wo begon therfore,     That he withinne his thoght conceiveth     Tristesce, and so himself deceiveth,     That he wanhope bringeth inne,     Wher is no confort to beginne,     Bot every joie him is deslaied:     So that withinne his herte affraied     3400     A thousend time with o breth     Wepende he wissheth after deth,     Whan he fortune fint adverse.     For thanne he wole his hap reherce,     As thogh his world were al forlore,     And seith, "Helas, that I was bore]     Hou schal I live? hou schal I do?     For nou fortune is thus mi fo,     I wot wel god me wol noght helpe.     What scholde I thanne of joies yelpe,        3410     Whan ther no bote is of mi care?     So overcast is my welfare,     That I am schapen al to strif.     Helas, that I nere of this lif,     Er I be fulliche overtake]"     And thus he wol his sorwe make,     As god him mihte noght availe:     Bot yit ne wol he noght travaile     To helpe himself at such a nede,     Bot slowtheth under such a drede,    3420     Which is affermed in his herte,     Riht as he mihte noght asterte     The worldes wo which he is inne.     Also whan he is falle in Sinne,     Him thenkth he is so ferr coupable,     That god wol noght be merciable     So gret a Sinne to foryive;     And thus he leeveth to be schrive.     And if a man in thilke throwe     Wolde him consaile, he wol noght knowe     3430     The sothe, thogh a man it finde:     For Tristesce is of such a kinde,     That forto meintiene his folie,     He hath with him Obstinacie,     Which is withinne of such a Slouthe,     That he forsaketh alle trouthe,     And wole unto no reson bowe;     And yit ne can he noght avowe     His oghne skile bot of hed:     Thus dwyneth he, til he be ded,        3440     In hindringe of his oghne astat.     For where a man is obstinat,     Wanhope folweth ate laste,     Which mai noght after longe laste,     Till Slouthe make of him an ende.     Bot god wot whider he schal wende.     Mi Sone, and riht in such manere     Ther be lovers of hevy chiere,     That sorwen mor than it is ned,     Whan thei be taried of here sped     3450     And conne noght hemselven rede,     Bot lesen hope forto spede     And stinten love to poursewe;     And thus thei faden hyde and hewe,     And lustles in here hertes waxe.     Hierof it is that I wolde axe,     If thou, mi Sone, art on of tho.     Ha, goode fader, it is so,     Outake a point, I am beknowe;     For elles I am overthrowe        3460     In al that evere ye have seid.     Mi sorwe is everemore unteid,     And secheth overal my veines;     Bot forto conseile of mi peines,     I can no bote do therto;     And thus withouten hope I go,     So that mi wittes ben empeired,     And I, as who seith, am despeired     To winne love of thilke swete,     Withoute whom, I you behiete,     3470     Min herte, that is so bestad,     Riht inly nevere mai be glad.     For be my trouthe I schal noght lie,     Of pure sorwe, which I drye     For that sche seith sche wol me noght,     With drecchinge of myn oghne thoght     In such a wanhope I am falle,     That I ne can unethes calle,     As forto speke of eny grace,     Mi ladi merci to pourchace.    3480     Bot yit I seie noght for this     That al in mi defalte it is;     For I cam nevere yit in stede,     Whan time was, that I my bede     Ne seide, and as I dorste tolde:     Bot nevere fond I that sche wolde,     For oght sche knew of min entente,     To speke a goodly word assente.     And natheles this dar I seie,     That if a sinful wolde preie        3490     To god of his foryivenesse     With half so gret a besinesse     As I have do to my ladi,     In lacke of askinge of merci     He scholde nevere come in Helle.     And thus I mai you sothli telle,     Save only that I crie and bidde,     I am in Tristesce al amidde     And fulfild of Desesperance:     And therof yif me mi penance,     3500     Min holi fader, as you liketh.     Mi Sone, of that thin herte siketh     With sorwe, miht thou noght amende,     Til love his grace wol thee sende,     For thou thin oghne cause empeirest     What time as thou thiself despeirest.     I not what other thing availeth,     Of hope whan the herte faileth,     For such a Sor is incurable,     And ek the goddes ben vengable:        3510     And that a man mai riht wel frede,     These olde bokes who so rede,     Of thing which hath befalle er this:     Now hier of what ensample it is.     Whilom be olde daies fer     Of Mese was the king Theucer,     Which hadde a kniht to Sone, Iphis:     Of love and he so maistred is,     That he hath set al his corage,     As to reguard of his lignage,     3520     Upon a Maide of lou astat.     Bot thogh he were a potestat     Of worldes good, he was soubgit     To love, and put in such a plit,     That he excedeth the mesure     Of reson, that himself assure     He can noght; for the more he preide,     The lass love on him sche leide.     He was with love unwys constreigned,     And sche with resoun was restreigned:    3530     The lustes of his herte he suieth,     And sche for dred schame eschuieth,     And as sche scholde, tok good hiede     To save and kepe hir wommanhiede.     And thus the thing stod in debat     Betwen his lust and hire astat:     He yaf, he sende, he spak be mouthe,     Bot yit for oght that evere he couthe     Unto his sped he fond no weie,     So that he caste his hope aweie,    3540     Withinne his herte and gan despeire     Fro dai to dai, and so empeire,     That he hath lost al his delit     Of lust, of Slep, of Appetit,     That he thurgh strengthe of love lasseth     His wit, and resoun overpasseth.     As he which of his lif ne rowhte,     His deth upon himself he sowhte,     So that be nyhte his weie he nam,     Ther wiste non wher he becam;    3550     The nyht was derk, ther schon no Mone,     Tofore the gates he cam sone,     Wher that this yonge Maiden was     And with this wofull word, "Helas!"     Hise dedli pleintes he began     So stille that ther was noman     It herde, and thanne he seide thus:     "O thou Cupide, o thou Venus,     Fortuned be whos ordinaunce     Of love is every mannes chaunce,    3560     Ye knowen al min hole herte,     That I ne mai your hond asterte;     On you is evere that I crie,     And yit you deigneth noght to plie,     Ne toward me youre Ere encline.     Thus for I se no medicine     To make an ende of mi querele,     My deth schal be in stede of hele.     Ha, thou mi wofull ladi diere,     Which duellest with thi fader hiere    3570     And slepest in thi bedd at ese,     Thou wost nothing of my desese.     Hou thou and I be now unmete.     Ha lord, what swevene schalt thou mete,     What dremes hast thou nou on honde?     Thou slepest there, and I hier stonde.     Thogh I no deth to the deserve,     Hier schal I for thi love sterve,     Hier schal a kinges Sone dye     For love and for no felonie;    3580     Wher thou therof have joie or sorwe,     Hier schalt thou se me ded tomorwe.     O herte hard aboven alle,     This deth, which schal to me befalle     For that thou wolt noght do me grace,     Yit schal be told in many a place,     Hou I am ded for love and trouthe     In thi defalte and in thi slouthe:     Thi Daunger schal to manye mo     Ensample be for everemo,    3590     Whan thei my wofull deth recorde."     And with that word he tok a Corde,     With which upon the gate tre     He hyng himself, that was pite.     The morwe cam, the nyht is gon,     Men comen out and syhe anon     Wher that this yonge lord was ded:     Ther was an hous withoute red,     For noman knew the cause why;     Ther was wepinge and ther was cry.    3600     This Maiden, whan that sche it herde,     And sih this thing hou it misferde,     Anon sche wiste what it mente,     And al the cause hou it wente     To al the world sche tolde it oute,     And preith to hem that were aboute     To take of hire the vengance,     For sche was cause of thilke chaunce,     Why that this kinges Sone is split.     Sche takth upon hirself the gilt,    3610     And is al redi to the peine     Which eny man hir wole ordeigne:     And bot if eny other wolde,     Sche seith that sche hirselve scholde     Do wreche with hire oghne hond,     Thurghout the world in every lond     That every lif therof schal speke,     Hou sche hirself i scholde wreke.     Sche wepth, sche crith, sche swouneth ofte,     Sche caste hire yhen up alofte    3620     And seide among ful pitously:     "A godd, thou wost wel it am I,     For whom Iphis is thus besein:     Ordeine so, that men mai sein     A thousend wynter after this,     Hou such a Maiden dede amis,     And as I dede, do to me:     For I ne dede no pite     To him, which for mi love is lore,     Do no pite to me therfore."    3630     And with this word sche fell to grounde     Aswoune, and ther sche lay a stounde.     The goddes, whiche hir pleigntes herde     And syhe hou wofully sche ferde,     Hire lif thei toke awey anon,     And schopen hire into a Ston     After the forme of hire ymage     Of bodi bothe and of visage.     And for the merveile of this thing     Unto the place cam the king    3640     And ek the queene and manye mo;     And whan thei wisten it was so,     As I have told it heir above,     Hou that Iphis was ded for love,     Of that he hadde be refused,     Thei hielden alle men excused     And wondren upon the vengance.     And forto kepe in remembrance,     This faire ymage mayden liche     With compaignie noble and riche    3650     With torche and gret sollempnite.     To Salamyne the Cite     Thei lede, and carie forth withal     The dede corps, and sein it schal     Beside thilke ymage have     His sepulture and be begrave:     This corps and this ymage thus     Into the Cite to Venus,     Wher that goddesse hire temple hadde,     Togedre bothe tuo thei ladde.    3660     This ilke ymage as for miracle     Was set upon an hyh pinacle,     That alle men it mihte knowe,     And under tht thei maden lowe     A tumbe riche for the nones     Of marbre and ek of jaspre stones,     Wherin this Iphis was beloken,     That evermor it schal be spoken.     And for men schal the sothe wite,     Thei have here epitaphe write,    3670     As thing which scholde abide stable:     The lettres graven in a table     Of marbre were and seiden this:     "Hier lith, which slowh himself, Iphis,     For love of Araxarathen:     And in ensample of tho wommen,     That soffren men to deie so,     Hire forme a man mai sen also,     Hou it is torned fleissh and bon     Into the figure of a Ston:    3680     He was to neysshe and sche to hard.     Be war forthi hierafterward;     Ye men and wommen bothe tuo,     Ensampleth you of that was tho:     Lo thus, mi Sone, as I thee seie,     It grieveth be diverse weie     In desepeir a man to falle,     Which is the laste branche of alle     Of Slouthe, as thou hast herd devise.     Wherof that thou thiself avise    3690     Good is, er that thou be deceived,     Wher that the grace of hope is weyved.     Mi fader, hou so that it stonde,     Now have I pleinly understonde     Of Slouthes court the proprete,     Wherof touchende in my degre     For evere I thenke to be war.     Bot overthis, so as I dar,     With al min herte I you beseche,     That ye me wolde enforme and teche    3700     What ther is more of youre aprise     In love als wel as otherwise,     So that I mai me clene schryve.     Mi Sone, whyl thou art alyve     And hast also thi fulle mynde,     Among the vices whiche I finde     Ther is yit on such of the sevene,     Which al this world hath set unevene     And causeth manye thinges wronge,     Where he the cause hath underfonge:    3710     Wherof hierafter thou schalt hiere     The forme bothe and the matiere.     Explicit Liber Quartus.