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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"
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<teiHeader>
<fileDesc>
<titleStmt>
<title>Regiment of Princes</title>
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<publicationStmt>
<p>Encoded by Mark Watts</p>
</publicationStmt>
<sourceDesc>
<p>This document was composed from the text at http://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/blyth-hoccleve-regiment-of-princes</p>
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</fileDesc>
</teiHeader>
<text>
<body>
<head>Regiment of Princes</head>
<div type="poem">
<lg>
<l>Musynge upon the restlees bysynesse</l>
<l>Which that this troubly world hath ay on honde,</l>
<l>That othir thyng than fruyt of bittirnesse</l>
<l>Ne yildith naght, as I can undirstonde,</l>
<l>At Chestres In, right faste by the Stronde,</l>
<l>As I lay in my bed upon a nyght,</l>
<l>Thoght me byrefte of sleep the force and might. </l>
<l>And many a day and nyght that wikkid hyne</l>
<l>Hadde beforn vexed my poore goost</l>
<l>So grevously that of angwissh and pyne</l>
<l>No rycher man was nowhere in no coost.</l>
<l>This dar I seyn, may no wight make his boost</l>
<l>That he with thoght was bet than I aqweynted,</l>
<l>For to the deeth he wel ny hath me feynted.</l>
<l>Bysyly in my mynde I gan revolve</l>
<l>The welthe unseur of every creature,</l>
<l>How lightly that Fortune it can dissolve</l>
<l>Whan that hir list that it no lenger dure;</l>
<l>And of the brotilnesse of hir nature</l>
<l>My tremblynge herte so greet gastnesse hadde</l>
<l>That my spirites were of my lyf sadde.</l>
<l>Me fil to mynde how that nat longe agoo</l>
<l>Fortunes strook doun thraste estat rial</l>
<l>Into mescheef, and I took heede also</l>
<l>Of many anothir lord that hadde a fal.</l>
<l>In mene estat eek sikirnesse at al</l>
<l>Ne saw I noon, but I sy atte laste</l>
<l>Wher seuretee for to abyde hir caste.</l>
<l>In poore estat shee pighte hir pavyloun</l>
<l>To kevere hir fro the storm of descendynge</l>
<l>For shee kneew no lower descencion</l>
<l>Sauf oonly deeth, fro which no wight lyvynge</l>
<l>Deffende him may; and thus in my musynge</l>
<l>I destitut was of joie and good hope,</l>
<l>And to myn ese nothyng cowde I grope.</l>
<l>For right as blyve ran it in my thoght,</l>
<l>Thogh poore I be, yit sumwhat leese I may.</l>
<l>Than deemed I that seurtee wolde noght</l>
<l>With me abyde; it is nat to hir pay</l>
<l>Ther to sojourne as shee descende may.</l>
<l>And thus unsikir of my smal lyflode,</l>
<l>Thoght leide on me ful many an hevy lode.</l>
<l>I thoghte eek, if I into povert creepe,</l>
<l>Than am I entred into sikirnesse;</l>
<l>But swich seurtee mighte I ay waille and weepe,</l>
<l>For povert breedith naght but hevynesse.</l>
<l>Allas, wher is this worldes stablenesse?</l>
<l>Heer up, heer doun; heer honour, heer repreef;</l>
<l>Now hool, now seek; now bountee, now mescheef.</l>
<l>And whan I hadde rollid up and doun</l>
<l>This worldes stormy wawes in my mynde,</l>
<l>I sy wel povert was exclusioun</l>
<l>Of al welfare regnynge in mankynde;</l>
<l>And how in bookes thus writen I fynde,</l>
<l>"The werste kynde of wrecchidnesse is</l>
<l>A man to han be weleful or this."</l>
<l>Allas, thoghte I, what sikirnesse is that</l>
<l>To lyve ay seur of greef and of nusance?</l>
<l>What shal I do? Best is I stryve nat</l>
<l>Ageyn the peys of Fortunes balance,</l>
<l>For wel I woot that hir brotil constance</l>
<l>A wight no whyle souffre can sojourne</l>
<l>In o plyt; thus nat wiste I how to tourne.</l>
<l>For whan man weeneth stonde moost constant,</l>
<l>Thanne is he nexte to his overthrowynge;</l>
<l>So flittynge is shee and so variant,</l>
<l>Ther is no trust upon hir fair lawhynge;</l>
<l>Aftir glad look, shee shapith hir to stynge.</l>
<l>I was adrad so of hir gerynesse</l>
<l>That my lyf was but a deedly gladnesse.</l>
<l>This ilke nyght I walwid to and fro</l>
<l>Seekynge reste, but certeynly shee</l>
<l>Appeerid nat, for thoght, my cruel fo,</l>
<l>Chaced had hir and sleep away fro me.</l>
<l>And for I sholde nat allone be,</l>
<l>Ageyn my lust wach proferred his servyse,</l>
<l>And I admittid him in hevy wyse.</l>
<l>So long a nyght ne felte I nevere noon</l>
<l>As was that same, to my jugement.</l>
<l>Whoso that thoghty is, is wo begoon;</l>
<l>The thoghtful wight is vessel of torment;</l>
<l>Ther nis no greef to him equipollent.</l>
<l>He graveth deepest of seeknesses alle:</l>
<l>Ful wo is him that in swich thoght is falle.</l>
<l>What wight that inly pensyf is, I trowe,</l>
<l>His moost desir is to be solitarie.</l>
<l>That this is sooth, in my persone I knowe,</l>
<l>For evere whyl that fretynge adversarie</l>
<l>Myn herte made to him tributarie</l>
<l>In sowkynge of the fressheste of my blood;</l>
<l>To sorwe soul me thoghte it dide me good.</l>
<l>For the nature of hevynesse is this:</l>
<l>If it habownde greetly in a wight,</l>
<l>The place eschueth he whereas joie is,</l>
<l>For joie and he nat mowe accorde aright.</l>
<l>As discordant as day is unto nyght,</l>
<l>And honour adversarie is unto shame,</l>
<l>Is hevynesse so to joie and game.</l>
<l>Whan to the thoghtful wight is told a tale,</l>
<l>He heerith it as thogh he thennes were;</l>
<l>His hevy thoghtes him so plukke and hale</l>
<l>Hidir and thidir, and him greeve and dere,</l>
<l>That his eres availle him nat a pere;</l>
<l>He undirstandith nothyng what men seye,</l>
<l>So been his wittes fer goon hem to pleye.</l>
<l>The smert of thoght I by experience</l>
<l>Knowe as wel as any man dooth lyvynge.</l>
<l>His frosty swoot and fyry hoot fervence,</l>
<l>And troubly dremes drempt al in wakynge,</l>
<l>My mazid heed sleeplees han of konnynge</l>
<l>And wit despoillid, and so me bejapid</l>
<l>That aftir deeth ful often have I gapid.</l>
<l>Passe over; whan this stormy nyght was goon</l>
<l>And day gan at my wyndowe in to prye,</l>
<l>I roos me up, for boote fond I noon</l>
<l>In myn unresty bed lenger to lye.</l>
<l>Into the feeld I dressid me in hye,</l>
<l>And in my wo I herte-deep gan wade,</l>
<l>As he that was bareyne of thoghtes glade.</l>
<l>By that I walkid hadde a certeyn tyme,</l>
<l>Were it an hour I not, or more or lesse,</l>
<l>A poore old hoor man cam walkynge by me,</l>
<l>And seide, "Good day, sire, and God yow blesse!"</l>
<l>But I no word, for my seekly distresse</l>
<l>Forbad myn eres usen hir office,</l>
<l>For which this old man heeld me lewde and nyce,</l>
<l>Til he took heede to my drery cheere,</l>
<l>And to my deedly colour pale and wan.</l>
<l>Than thoghte he thus: "This man that I see heere</l>
<l>Al wrong is wrestid, by aght I see can."</l>
<l>He stirte unto me and seide, "Sleepstow, man?</l>
<l>Awake!" and gan me shake wondir faste,</l>
<l>And with a sigh I answerde atte laste:</l>
<l>"A, who is there?" "I," quod this olde greye,</l>
<l>"Am heer," and he me tolde the manere</l>
<l>How he spak to me, as yee herde me seye.</l>
<l>"O man," quod I, "for Crystes love deere,</l>
<l>If that thow wilt aght doon at my prayeere,</l>
<l>As go thy way, talke to me no more;</l>
<l>Thy wordes alle annoyen me ful sore.</l>
<l>"Voide fro me, me list no conpaignie.</l>
<l>Encresse nat my greef, I have ynow."</l>
<l>"My sone, hast thow good lust thy sorwe drye</l>
<l>And mayst releeved be? What man art thow?</l>
<l>Wirke aftir me: it shal be for thy prow.</l>
<l>Thow nart but yong and hast but litil seen,</l>
<l>And ful seelde is that yong folk wyse been.</l>
<l>"If that thee lyke to been esid wel,</l>
<l>As suffre me with thee to talke a whyle.</l>
<l>Art thow aght lettred?" "Yee," quod I, "sumdel."</l>
<l>"Blessid be God, than hope I, by Seint Gyle,</l>
<l>That God to thee thy wit shal reconsyle</l>
<l>Which that me thynkith is fer fro thee went</l>
<l>Thurgh the assaut of thy grevous torment.</l>
<l>"Lettred folk han gretter discrecion</l>
<l>And bet conceyve konne a mannes sawe,</l>
<l>And rather wole applie to reson,</l>
<l>And from folie sonner hem withdrawe,</l>
<l>Than he that neithir reson can ne lawe,</l>
<l>Ne lerned hath no maner letterure.</l>
<l>Plukke up thyn herte - I hope I shal thee cure."</l>
<l>"Cure, good man? Yee, thow art a fair leeche!</l>
<l>Cure thyself that tremblest as thow goost,</l>
<l>For al thyn aart wole enden in thy speeche.</l>
<l>It lyth nat in thy power, poore goost,</l>
<l>To hele me; thow art as seek almoost</l>
<l>As I! First on thyself kythe thyn aart,</l>
<l>And if aght leve, let me thanne have paart.</l>
<l>"Go foorth thy way, I thee preye, or be stille;</l>
<l>Thow doost me more annoy than that thow weenest.</l>
<l>Thow art as ful of clap as is a mille;</l>
<l>Thow doost naght heer but greevest me and teenest.</l>
<l>Good man, thow woost but litil what thow meenest.</l>
<l>In thee lyth naght redresse my nusance,</l>
<l>And yit thow maist be wel-willid, par chance.</l>
<l>"It muste been a gretter man of might</l>
<l>Than that thow art that sholde me releeve."</l>
<l>"What, sone myn, thow feelist nat aright;</l>
<l>To herkne me, what shal it harme or greeve?"</l>
<l>"Petir, good man, thogh we talke heer til eeve,</l>
<l>Al is in veyn; thy might may nat atteyne</l>
<l>To hele me, swich is my woful peyne."</l>
<l>"What that I may or can ne woost thow noght.</l>
<l>Hardily, sone, telle on how it is."</l>
<l>"Man, at a word, it is encombrous thoght</l>
<l>That causith me thus sorwe and fare amis."</l>
<l>"Now, sone, and if ther nothyng be but this,</l>
<l>Do as I shal thee seye, and thyn estat</l>
<l>Amende I shal but thow be obstinat,</l>
<l>"And wilfully rebelle and disobeye,</l>
<l>And list nat to my lore thee conforme;</l>
<l>For in swich cas, what sholde I speke or seye,</l>
<l>Or in my beste wyse thee enforme?</l>
<l>If thow it weyve and take anothir forme,</l>
<l>Aftir thy childissh misreuled conceit,</l>
<l>Thow doost unto thyself harm and deceit.</l>
<l>"O thyng seye I, if thow go feerelees</l>
<l>Al solitarie and conseil lakke and reed,</l>
<l>As me thynkith thy gyse is, doutelees</l>
<l>Thow likly art to bere a dotid heed.</l>
<l>Whil thow art soul, thoght his wastyng seed</l>
<l>Sowith in thee, and that in greet foysoun,</l>
<l>And thow reedlees nat canst voide his poisoun.</l>
<l>"The Book seith thus - I redde it yore agoon:</l>
<l>'Wo be to him that list to been allone,</l>
<l>For if he falle, help ne hath he noon</l>
<l>To ryse.' This seye I by thy persone;</l>
<l>I fond thee soul and thy wittes echone</l>
<l>Fer fro thee fled and disparpled ful wyde,</l>
<l>Wherfore it seemeth thee needith a gyde,</l>
<l>"Which that thee may unto thy wittes lede.</l>
<l>Thow graspist heer and there as dooth the blynde,</l>
<l>And ay misgoost, and yit, have I no drede,</l>
<l>If thow receyve wilt into thy mynde</l>
<l>My lore and execute it, thow shalt fynde</l>
<l>Therin swich ese that thy maladie</l>
<l>Abregge it shal and thy malencolie.</l>
<l>"Ful holsum were it stynten of thy wo</l>
<l>And take unto thee spirit of gladnesse.</l>
<l>What profyt fyndest thow to mourne so?</l>
<l>Salomon seith that sorwe and hevynesse</l>
<l>Bones of man drieth by his duresse,</l>
<l>And herte glad makith florisshyng age;</l>
<l>Therfore I rede thow thy wo asswage.</l>
<l>"He seith: 'As motthes to a clooth annoyen</l>
<l>And of his wolle maken it al bare,</l>
<l>And also as wormes a tree destroien</l>
<l>Thurgh hir percynge, right so sorwe and care</l>
<l>Byreven man his helthe and his welfare</l>
<l>And his dayes abregge and shorte his lyf.'</l>
<l>Lo, what profyt is for to be pensyf?</l>
<l>"Now, goode sone, telle on thy grevance:</l>
<l>What is thy cause of thoght in special?</l>
<l>Haast thow of worldly goodes habundance</l>
<l>And carist how that it ykept be shal?</l>
<l>Or art thow needy and hast nat but smal,</l>
<l>And thristist sore a ryche man to be?</l>
<l>Or lovest hire that nat loveth thee?</l>
<l>"I have herd seyn, in keepynge of richesse</l>
<l>Is thoght and wo and bisy awayt alway.</l>
<l>The poore and needy eek hath hevynesse,</l>
<l>For to his purpos nat atteyne he may;</l>
<l>The lovere also seen men day by day</l>
<l>Prolle aftir that that he shal nevere fynde;</l>
<l>Thus thoght tormentith folk in sundry kynde.</l>
<l>"If thow thee feele in any of thise ygreeved</l>
<l>Or elles what, telle on, in Goddes name.</l>
<l>Thow seest al day the begger is releeved</l>
<l>That sit and beggith blynd, crookid, and lame,</l>
<l>And why? For he ne lettith for no shame</l>
<l>His harmes and his povert to bywreye</l>
<l>To folk as they goon by him in the weye.</l>
<l>"For and he keepe him cloos and holde his pees,</l>
<l>And nat out shewe how seek he inward is,</l>
<l>He may al day so sitten helpelees;</l>
<l>And, sone myn, althogh he fare amis</l>
<l>That hydeth so, God woot, the wyt is his;</l>
<l>But this begger his hurtes wole nat stele;</l>
<l>He wole telle al and more - he can naght hele.</l>
<l>"Right so, if thee list have a remedie</l>
<l>Of thyn annoy that prikkith thee so smerte,</l>
<l>The verray cause of thyn hid maladie</l>
<l>Thow moot deskevere and telle out al thyn herte.</l>
<l>If thow it hyde, thow shalt nat asterte</l>
<l>That thow ne falle shalt in sum meschance;</l>
<l>Forthy amende thow thy governance.</l>
<l>"Be waar of thoght, for it is perillous;</l>
<l>He the streight way to desconfort men ledith;</l>
<l>His violence is ful outrageous;</l>
<l>Unwys is he that bisy thoght ne dredith.</l>
<l>In whom that he his mortel venym shedith,</l>
<l>But if a vomyt aftir folwe blyve,</l>
<l>At the port of despeir he may arryve.</l>
<l>"Sone, swich thoght lurkynge thee withynne,</l>
<l>That huntith aftir thy confusioun,</l>
<l>Hy tyme it is to voide and lat him twynne,</l>
<l>And walke at large out of thy prisoun.</l>
<l>Be waar the feendes sly conclusioun,</l>
<l>For if he may thee unto despeir brynge,</l>
<l>Thow mourne shalt, and lawhe he wole and synge.</l>
<l>"Sum man for lak of occupacioun</l>
<l>Musith ferthere than his wit may strecche,</l>
<l>And at the feendes instigacioun</l>
<l>Dampnable errour holdith, and can nat flecche</l>
<l>For no conseil ne reed, as dide a wrecche</l>
<l>Nat fern ago, which that of heresie</l>
<l>Convict and brent was unto asshen drie.</l>
<l>"The precious body of our Lord Jhesu</l>
<l>In forme of brede he leeved nat at al;</l>
<l>He was in nothyng abassht ne eschu</l>
<l>To seye it was but brede material.</l>
<l>He seide a preestes power was as smal</l>
<l>As a rakers or swich anothir wight,</l>
<l>And to make it hadde no gretter might.</l>
<l>"My lord the Prince - God him save and blesse -</l>
<l>Was at his deedly castigacioun</l>
<l>And of his soule hadde greet tendrenesse,</l>
<l>Thristynge sore his sauvacioun.</l>
<l>Greet was his pitous lamentacioun</l>
<l>Whan that this renegat nat wolde blynne</l>
<l>Of the stynkynge errour that he was ynne.</l>
<l>"This good lord highte him to be swich a mene</l>
<l>To his fadir, our lige lord sovereyn,</l>
<l>If he renounce wolde his error clene</l>
<l>And come unto our good byleeve ageyn,</l>
<l>He sholde of his lyf seur been and certain;</l>
<l>And souffissant lyflode eek sholde he have</l>
<l>Unto the day he clad were in his grave.</l>
<l>"Also this noble prynce and worthy knyght -</l>
<l>God qwyte him his charitable labour -</l>
<l>Or any stikke kyndlid were or light,</l>
<l>The sacrament, our blessid Sauveour,</l>
<l>With reverence greet and hy honour,</l>
<l>He fecche leet, this wrecche to converte,</l>
<l>And make our feith to synken in his herte.</l>
<l>"But al for naght, it wolde nat betyde;</l>
<l>He heeld foorth his oppinioun dampnable,</l>
<l>And caste our holy Cristen feith asyde</l>
<l>As he that was to the feend acceptable.</l>
<l>By any outward tokne resonable,</l>
<l>If he inward hadde any repentance,</l>
<l>That woot He that of nothyng hath doutance.</l>
<l>"Lat the dyvynes of him speke and muse</l>
<l>Where his soule is bycome or whidir goon;</l>
<l>Myn unkonnynge of that me shal excuse;</l>
<l>Of swich mateere knowleche have I noon.</l>
<l>But wolde God tho Crystes foos echoon</l>
<l>That holde as he heeld were yserved so,</l>
<l>For I am seur that ther been many mo.</l>
<l>"The more routhe is! Allas, what men been they</l>
<l>That hem delyten in swich surquidrye?</l>
<l>For mannes reson may nat preeve our fey</l>
<l>That they wole it dispreeven or denye.</l>
<l>To our lord God that sitte in hevenes hye,</l>
<l>Shul they desyre for to been egal?</l>
<l>Nay, that was nevere, certes, ne be shal.</l>
<l>"That our lord God seith in Holy Scripture</l>
<l>May nat be fals, this knowith every wight</l>
<l>But he be mad; and thogh a creature</l>
<l>In his Goddes werk feele nat aright,</l>
<l>Shal he rebelle ageyn his lordes might,</l>
<l>Which that this wyde world hath maad of noght,</l>
<l>For reson may nat knytte it in his thoght?</l>
<l>"Was it nat eek a moustre as in nature</l>
<l>That God ybore was of a virgyne?</l>
<l>Yit is it sooth, thogh man by conjecture</l>
<l>Of reson or what he can ymagyne</l>
<l>Nat savoure it ne can it determyne.</l>
<l>He that almighty is dooth as him list;</l>
<l>He wole his konnynge hid be and nat wist.</l>
<l>"Our feith nat were unto us meritorie</l>
<l>If that we mighten by reson it preeve.</l>
<l>Lat us nat fro God twynnen and His glorie;</l>
<l>As Holy Chirche us bit, lat us byleeve.</l>
<l>But we therto obeye, it shal us greeve</l>
<l>Importably; lat us do as shee bit;</l>
<l>Oure goode fadres olde han folwed it.</l>
<l>"Presumpcion, a benedicitee!</l>
<l>Why vexest thow folk with thy franesie,</l>
<l>Thogh nothyng elles were, I seye for me?</l>
<l>But see how that the worthy prelacie,</l>
<l>And undir hem the souffissant clergie,</l>
<l>Endowid of profounde intelligence,</l>
<l>Of al this land werreyen thy sentence.</l>
<l>"That selve same to me were a brydil</l>
<l>By which wolde I governed been and gyed,</l>
<l>And elles al my labour were in ydil.</l>
<l>By Holy Chirche I wole be justified;</l>
<l>To that al hoolly is myn herte applied,</l>
<l>And evere shal. I truste in Goddes grace;</l>
<l>Swich surquidrie in me shal have no place.</l>
<l>"Sone, if God wole, thow art noon of tho</l>
<l>That wrappid been in this dampnacioun?"</l>
<l>"I? Cryst forbeede it, sire," seide I tho.</l>
<l>"I thanke it God, noon inclinacioun</l>
<l>Have I to laboure in probacioun</l>
<l>Of His hy knowleche and His mighty werkis,</l>
<l>For swich mateere unto my wit to derk is.</l>
<l>"Of our feith wole I nat despute at al,</l>
<l>But at o word, I in the sacrament</l>
<l>Of the auter fully byleeve and shal,</l>
<l>With Goddes help, whil lyf is to me lent,</l>
<l>And in despit of the feendes talent,</l>
<l>In alle othir articles of the feith</l>
<l>Byleeve as fer as that Holy Writ seith."</l>
<l>"Now good thrift come unto thee, sone deere;</l>
<l>Thy goost is now awakid wel, I see,</l>
<l>And sumwhat eek amendid is thy cheere.</l>
<l>And first I was ful sore agast of thee,</l>
<l>Lest that thow thurgh thoghtful adversitee</l>
<l>Nat haddest standen in thy feith aright;</l>
<l>Now is myn herte woxen glad and light.</l>
<l>"Hast thow in me any gretter savour</l>
<l>Than that thow haddest first whan thow me sy,</l>
<l>Whan I opposid thee of thy langour?</l>
<l>Seye on the soothe." "Yee, sumdel," quod I.</l>
<l>"My sone, in feith that is seid ful feyntly;</l>
<l>Thy savour yit ful smal is, as I trowe,</l>
<l>But or aght longe I shal the soothe knowe.</l>
<l>"I woot wel, sone, of me thus wilt thow thynke:</l>
<l>This olde dotid grisel halt him wys;</l>
<l>He weeneth maken in myn heed to synke</l>
<l>His lewde clap, of which sette I no prys.</l>
<l>He is a noble prechour at devys;</l>
<l>Greet noyse hath thurgh his chynned lippes drye</l>
<l>This day out past, the devel in his ye.</l>
<l>"But thogh I old and hoor be, sone myn,</l>
<l>And poore be my clothynge and array,</l>
<l>And nat so wyde a gowne have as is thyn -</l>
<l>So smal ypynchid ne so fressh and gay -</l>
<l>My reed in hap yit thee profyte may,</l>
<l>And likly that thow deemest for folie</l>
<l>Is gretter wysdam than thow canst espie.</l>
<l>"Undir an old poore habyt regneth ofte</l>
<l>Greet vertu, thogh it moustre poorely;</l>
<l>And whereas greet array is up on lofte,</l>
<l>Vice is but seelden hid - that wel woot I.</l>
<l>But nat reporte, I preye thee, inwardly,</l>
<l>That fressh array I generally deprave;</l>
<l>Thise worthy men mowe it wel use and have.</l>
<l>"But this me thynkith an abusioun,</l>
<l>To see oon walke in gownes of scarlet</l>
<l>Twelve yerdes wyde, with pendaunt sleeves doun</l>
<l>On the ground, and the furrour therin set,</l>
<l>Amountyng unto twenti pound or bet.</l>
<l>And if he for it paied have, he no good</l>
<l>Hath left him wherwith for to bye an hood.</l>
<l>"For thogh he gette foorth among the prees</l>
<l>And overlooke every poore wight,</l>
<l>His cofre and eek his purs been penylees;</l>
<l>He hath no more than he gooth in right.</l>
<l>For land, rente, or catel he may go light;</l>
<l>The weighte of hem shal nat so moche peise</l>
<l>As dooth his gowne. Is swich array to preise?</l>
<l>"Nay, soothly, sone, it is al mis, me thynkith,</l>
<l>So poore a wight his lord to countrefete</l>
<l>In his array; in my conceit it stynkith.</l>
<l>Certes to blame been the lordes grete,</l>
<l>If that I durste seyn, that hir men lete</l>
<l>Usurpe swich a lordly apparaille;</l>
<l>It is nat worth, my chyld, withouten faille.</l>
<l>"Sumtyme afer men mighten lordes knowe</l>
<l>By hir array from othir folk, but now</l>
<l>A man shal studie and musen a long throwe</l>
<l>Which is which. O lordes, it sit to yow</l>
<l>Amende this, for it is for your prow;</l>
<l>If twixt yow and your men no difference</l>
<l>Be in array, lesse is your reverence.</l>
<l>"Also ther is anothir neewe get:</l>
<l>A foul waast of clooth and an excessyf</l>
<l>Ther gooth, no lesse in a mannes typet</l>
<l>Than of brood clooth a yerde, by my lyf;</l>
<l>Me thynkith this a verray inductyf</l>
<l>Unto stelthe. Waar hem of hempen lane,</l>
<l>For stelthe is medid with a chekelewe bane.</l>
<l>"Let every lord his owne men deffende</l>
<l>Swich greet array, and thanne, on my peril,</l>
<l>This land withynne a whyle shal amende.</l>
<l>In Goddes name, putte it in exyl;</l>
<l>It is a synne outrageous and vyl;</l>
<l>Lordes, if yee your estat and honour</l>
<l>Loven, fleemeth this vicious errour.</l>
<l>"What is a lord withouten his meynee?</l>
<l>I putte cas that his foos him assaille</l>
<l>Sodeynly in the street: what help shal he</l>
<l>Whos sleeves encombrous so syde traille</l>
<l>Do to his lord? He may him nat availle;</l>
<l>In swich a cas he nis but a womman;</l>
<l>He may nat stande him in stide of a man.</l>
<l>"His armes two han right ynow to doone,</l>
<l>And sumwhat more, his sleeves up to holde.</l>
<l>The taillours, trowe I, moot heeraftir soone</l>
<l>Shape in the feeld; they shul nat sprede and folde</l>
<l>On hir bord, thogh they nevere so fayn wolde,</l>
<l>The clooth that shal been in a gowne wroght;</l>
<l>Take an hool clooth is best, for lesse is noght.</l>
<l>"The skynner unto the feeld moot also -</l>
<l>His hous in Londoun is to streit and scars</l>
<l>To doon his craft; sumtyme it was nat so.</l>
<l>O lordes, geve unto your men hir pars</l>
<l>That so doon, and aqweynte hem bet with Mars,</l>
<l>God of bataille; he loveth noon array</l>
<l>That hurtith manhode at preef or assay.</l>
<l>"Who now moost may bere on his bak at ones</l>
<l>Of clooth and furrour hath a fressh renoun;</l>
<l>He is a lusty man clept, for the nones.</l>
<l>But drapers and eek skynners in the toun</l>
<l>For swich folk han a special orisoun,</l>
<l>That droppid is with curses heer and there,</l>
<l>And ay shal til they paied be for hir gere.</l>
<l>"In dayes olde, whan smal apparaille</l>
<l>Souffysid unto hy estat or mene,</l>
<l>Was greet houshold wel stuffid of vitaille;</l>
<l>But now housholdes been ful sclendre and lene,</l>
<l>For al the good that men may repe or glene</l>
<l>Waastid is in outrageous array,</l>
<l>So that housholdes men nat holde may.</l>
<l>"Pryde hath wel lever bere an hungry mawe</l>
<l>To bedde than lak of array outrage.</l>
<l>He no prys settith by mesures lawe,</l>
<l>Ne takith of him clooth, mete, ne wage;</l>
<l>Mesure is out of land on pilgrimage;</l>
<l>But I suppose he shal resorte as blyve,</l>
<l>For verray neede wole us therto dryve.</l>
<l>"Ther may no lord take up no neewe gyse</l>
<l>But that a knave shal the same up take.</l>
<l>If lordes wolden wirken in this wyse</l>
<l>For to do swiche gownes to hem make</l>
<l>As men dide in old tyme, I undirtake,</l>
<l>The same get sholde up be take and usid,</l>
<l>And al this costlewe outrage refusid.</l>
<l>"Of Lancastre Duk John, whos soule in hevene</l>
<l>I fully deeme and truste sit ful hye -</l>
<l>A noble prince, I may allegge and nevene -</l>
<l>Othir may no man of him testifie;</l>
<l>I nevere sy a lord that cowde him gye</l>
<l>Bet lyk his estat; al knyghtly prowesse</l>
<l>Was to him girt - o God, his soule blesse!</l>
<l>"His garnementes weren nat ful wyde,</l>
<l>And yit they him becam wondirly wel.</l>
<l>Now wolde God the waast of clooth and pryde</l>
<l>Yput were in exyl perpetuel</l>
<l>For the good and profyt universel;</l>
<l>And lordes mighte helpe al this, if they wolde</l>
<l>The old get take, and it foorth use and holde.</l>
<l>"Than mighte silver walke more thikke</l>
<l>Among the peple than that it dooth now.</l>
<l>Ther wolde I fayn that were yset the prikke -</l>
<l>Nat for myself, I shal do wel ynow -</l>
<l>But, sone, for that swiche men as thow,</l>
<l>That with the world wrastlen, mighte han plentee</l>
<l>Of coyn, whereas yee han now scarsetee.</l>
<l>"Now hath this land but litil neede of bromes</l>
<l>To sweepe away the filthe out of the street,</l>
<l>Syn syde sleeves of penylees gromes</l>
<l>Wole it up likke, be it drie or weet.</l>
<l>O Engeland, stande upright on thy feet!</l>
<l>So foul a waast in so symple degree</l>
<l>Banisshe, or sore it shal repente thee.</l>
<l>"If a wight vertuous but narwe clothid</l>
<l>To lordes courtes now adayes go,</l>
<l>His conpaignie is unto folkes lothid;</l>
<l>Men passen by him bothe to and fro,</l>
<l>And scorne him for he is arraied so.</l>
<l>To hir conceit is no wight vertuous</l>
<l>But he that of array is outrageous.</l>
<l>"But he that flatere can or be a baude,</l>
<l>And by tho tweyne fressh array him gete,</l>
<l>It holden is to him honour and laude.</l>
<l>Trouthe and clennesse musten men forgete</l>
<l>In lordes courtes, for they hertes frete;</l>
<l>They hyndren folk. Fy upon tonges treewe!</l>
<l>They displesance in lordes courtes breewe.</l>
<l>"Lo, sone myn, that tale is at an eende.</l>
<l>Now, goode sone, have of me no desdeyn,</l>
<l>Thogh I be old and myn array untheende,</l>
<l>For many a yong man, woot I wel certeyn,</l>
<l>Of corage is so prowd and so hauteyn</l>
<l>That to the poore and old mannes doctryne</l>
<l>Ful seelde him deyneth bowen or enclyne.</l>
<l>"Senek seith, age is an infirmitee</l>
<l>That leche noon can cure ne it hele,</l>
<l>For to the deeth next neigheburgh is he.</l>
<l>Ther may no wight the chartre of lyf ensele;</l>
<l>The ende is deeth of male and of femele;</l>
<l>Nothyng is more certeyn than deeth is,</l>
<l>Ne more uncerteyn than the tyme, ywis.</l>
<l>"As touchynge age, God in Holy Writ</l>
<l>Right thus seith: 'Fadir and modir honure,</l>
<l>That thow maist be long-lyved' - thus he bit.</l>
<l>Than moot it folwen upon this scripture,</l>
<l>Age is a guerdoun to a creature,</l>
<l>And long-lyved is noon withouten age,</l>
<l>Wherfore I seye, in elde is avauntage;</l>
<l>"And the reward of God may nat be smal;</l>
<l>His giftes been ful noble and profitable;</l>
<l>Forthy ne lakke thow nat age at al.</l>
<l>Whan youthe is past is age sesonable;</l>
<l>Age hath insighte how unseur and unstable</l>
<l>This worldes cours is by lengthe of his yeeres,</l>
<l>And can deffende him from his sharpe breres.</l>
<l>"Lord, whethir it be maistrie to knowe</l>
<l>Whan a man ofte hath sundry weyes ride,</l>
<l>Which is the beste? Nay, for soothe, I trowe,</l>
<l>Right so he that hath many a world abide</l>
<l>There he in youthe wroghte mis or dide,</l>
<l>His age it seeth and bit him it eschue</l>
<l>And seekith weyes covenable and due.</l>
<l>"Whan that thow hast assayed bothe two,</l>
<l>Sad age, I seye, aftir thy skittissh yowthe,</l>
<l>As thow moot needes atteyne therto</l>
<l>Or sterve yong, than trowe I thow wilt bowe thee</l>
<l>To swiche conceites as I have nowthe,</l>
<l>And thanke God devoutly in thyn herte</l>
<l>That He hath suffrid thee thy yowthe asterte.</l>
<l>"Youthe ful smal reward hath to goodnesse,</l>
<l>And peril dredith he noon, woot I wel;</l>
<l>Al his devocion and holynesse</l>
<l>At the taverne is, as for the moost del;</l>
<l>To Bachus signe and to the levesel</l>
<l>His youthe him halith, and whan it him happith</l>
<l>To chirche goon, of nycetee he clappith.</l>
<l>"The cause why men oghten thidir goon,</l>
<l>Nat cause can his wilde steerissh heed</l>
<l>To folwen it. Also, boote is it noon</l>
<l>To telle it him, for thogh men sowen seed</l>
<l>Of vertu, in a yong man it is deed;</l>
<l>As blyve his rebel goost it mortifieth.</l>
<l>Al thyng sauf folie in a yong man dieth.</l>
<l>"Whan I was yong, I was ful rechelees,</l>
<l>Prowd, nyce, and riotous for the maistrie,</l>
<l>And among othir, consciencelees.</l>
<l>By that sette I nat the worth of a flie;</l>
<l>And of hem hauntid I the conpaignie</l>
<l>That wente on pilgrimage to taverne,</l>
<l>Which before unthrift berith the lanterne.</l>
<l>"There offred I wel more than my tythe,</l>
<l>And withdrow Holy Chirche his duetee.</l>
<l>My freendes me conseillid often sythe</l>
<l>That I with lownesse and humilitee</l>
<l>To my curat go sholde and make his gree,</l>
<l>But straw, unto hir reed wolde I nat bowe</l>
<l>For aght they cowden preyen alle or wowe!</l>
<l>"Whan folk wel reuled dressid hem to bedde</l>
<l>In tyme due by reed of nature,</l>
<l>To the taverne qwikly I me spedde</l>
<l>And pleide at dees whil the nyght wolde endure.</l>
<l>There the former of every creature</l>
<l>Dismembred I with oothes grete, and rente</l>
<l>Lym fro lym or that I thennes wente.</l>
<l>"And ofte it fals was that I swoor or spak,</l>
<l>For the desir fervent of covetyse</l>
<l>Fond in perjurie no deffaute or lak,</l>
<l>But evere entyced me that in al wyse</l>
<l>Myne oothes grete I sholde excercyse,</l>
<l>And specially for lucre, in al maneere,</l>
<l>Swere and forswere with bold face and cheere.</l>
<l>"But this condicioun, lo, hadde I evere:</l>
<l>Thogh I prowd were in wordes or in speeche,</l>
<l>Whan strokes cam, a place I gan dissevere;</l>
<l>Fro my felawes soghte I nevere leeche</l>
<l>For hurt which that I took; what sholde I seeche</l>
<l>A salve whan I therof had no neede?</l>
<l>I hurtlees was ay thurgh impressid dreede.</l>
<l>"Tho mighte I spende an hundred mark by yeer,</l>
<l>Al thyng deduct, my sone, I gabbe noght.</l>
<l>I was so prowd, I heeld no man my peere;</l>
<l>In pryde and leccherie was al my thoght.</l>
<l>No more I hadde set therby or roght</l>
<l>A wyf or mayde or nonne to deffoule</l>
<l>Than sheete or pleyen at the bal or boule.</l>
<l>"Right nyce girles at my retenue</l>
<l>Had I an heep, wyves and othir mo -</l>
<l>What so they were, I wolde noon eschue;</l>
<l>And yeeres fele I continued so.</l>
<l>Allas, I nothyng was waar of the wo</l>
<l>That folwed me; I lookid nat behynde;</l>
<l>Conceites yonge been ful dirk and blynde.</l>
<l>"An office also hadde I lucratyf,</l>
<l>And wan ynow, God woot, and mochil more,</l>
<l>But nevere thoghte I in al my yong lyf</l>
<l>What I unjustly gat for to restore,</l>
<l>Wherfore I now repente wondir sore;</l>
<l>As it misgoten was, mis was despendid,</l>
<l>Of which our lord God greetly was offendid.</l>
<l>"He sy I nolde absteene for no good</l>
<l>Of myn outrageous iniquitee,</l>
<l>And whan that His lust was, withdrow the flood</l>
<l>Of welthe, and at ground ebbe sette He me;</l>
<l>With povert for my gilt me feffid He.</l>
<l>Swich wreche took He for my cursid synne;</l>
<l>No more good have I than I stonde ynne.</l>
<l>"Gold, silver, jewel, clooth, beddyng, array -</l>
<l>Ne have I noon othir than thow maist see;</l>
<l>Pardee, this bare old russet is nat gay,</l>
<l>And in my purs so grete sommes be</l>
<l>That ther nis contour in al Cristientee</l>
<l>Which that hem can at any noumbre sette.</l>
<l>That shalt thow see, my purs I wole unshette.</l>
<l>"Come hidir to me, sone, and looke whethir</l>
<l>In this purs ther be any crois or crouche</l>
<l>Sauf nedel and threde and themel of lethir;</l>
<l>Heer seestow naght that man may handele or touche.</l>
<l>The feend, men seyn, may hoppen in a pouche</l>
<l>Whan that no crois therynne may appeere,</l>
<l>And by my purs the same I may seye heere.</l>
<l>"O, where is now al the wantoun moneye</l>
<l>That I was maistir of and governour,</l>
<l>Whan I kneew nat what povert was to seye?</l>
<l>Now is povert the glas and the mirour</l>
<l>In which I see my God, my sauveour.</l>
<l>Or povert cam, wiste I nat what God was,</l>
<l>But now I knowe and see Him in this glas.</l>
<l>"And where be my gownes of scarlet,</l>
<l>Sangwyn, murray, and blewes sadde and lighte;</l>
<l>Greenes also, and the fair violet;</l>
<l>Hors and harneys, fressh and lusty in sighte -</l>
<l>My wikkid lyf hath put al this to flighte.</l>
<l>But, certes, yit me greeveth moost of alle,</l>
<l>My frendshipe is al clene fro me falle.</l>
<l>"O whyle I stood in wele, I was honurid</l>
<l>And many oon of my conpaignie glad,</l>
<l>And now I am mislookid on and lourid;</l>
<l>Ther rekkith noon how wo I be bystad.</l>
<l>O Lord, this world unstable is and unsad;</l>
<l>This world honureth nat mannes persone</l>
<l>For himself, sone, but for good allone.</l>
<l>"Ful sooth fynde I the word of Salomon,</l>
<l>That to moneie obeien alle thynges;</l>
<l>For that my coyn and coynworth is agoon,</l>
<l>Contrarien they my wil and my biddynges,</l>
<l>That in my welthe with hir flaterynges</l>
<l>Heelden with me what that I wroghte or seide;</l>
<l>Now disobeyen they that thanne obeide.</l>
<l>"Now seyn they thus: 'I wiste wel alway</l>
<l>That him destroie wolde his fool largesse;</l>
<l>I tolde him so and evere he seide nay.'</l>
<l>And yit they lien, also God me blesse;</l>
<l>They me conforted ay in myn excesse,</l>
<l>And seide I was a manly man withalle;</l>
<l>Hir hony wordes tornen me to galle.</l>
<l>"God, which of His benigne courtesie,</l>
<l>And of His cheere lovynge tendrenesse,</l>
<l>He of the synful hath nat wole he die,</l>
<l>But lyve for to amende his wikkidnesse;</l>
<l>Him thanke I and His infynyt goodnesse;</l>
<l>His grace lykith that thurgh worldly peyne</l>
<l>My soule eschape may the feendes cheyne.</l>
<l>"Job hadde an hevyer fal than I, pardee,</l>
<l>For he was clumben hyer in richesse,</l>
<l>And paciently he his adversitee</l>
<l>Took, as the Byble bere can witnesse.</l>
<l>And aftirward, God al his hevynesse</l>
<l>Torned to joie, and so may He do myn</l>
<l>Whan that it lykith to His myght devyn.</l>
<l>"Lord, as Thee list, right so Thow to me do;</l>
<l>But evere I hope seur been of that place</l>
<l>Which that Thy mercy boght us hath unto,</l>
<l>If that us list for to sue Thy grace.</l>
<l>A! Lord almighty, in my lyves space,</l>
<l>Of my gilt graunte Thow me repentance,</l>
<l>And Thy strook take in greable souffrance.</l>
<l>"I cowde of youthe han talkid more and told</l>
<l>Than I have doon, but the day passith swythe,</l>
<l>And eek me lever is by many fold</l>
<l>Thy greef to knowe which that sit so ny thee.</l>
<l>Telle on anoon, my goode sone, and hye thee,</l>
<l>And I shal herknen as thow hast doon me,</l>
<l>And, as I can, wole I conseille thee."</l>
<l>"Grant mercy, deere fadir, of your speeche.</l>
<l>Yee han right wel me conforted and esid;</l>
<l>And hertily I preye yow and byseeche,</l>
<l>What I first to yow spak, be nat displesid;</l>
<l>It reewith me if I yow have disesid,</l>
<l>And meekly yow byseeche I of pardoun,</l>
<l>Me submittynge unto correccioun.</l>
<l>"I woot wel first, whan that I with yow mette,</l>
<l>I was ful mad and spak ful rudely.</l>
<l>Thogh I nat slepte, yit my spirit mette</l>
<l>Ful angry dremes; thoght ful bysyly</l>
<l>Vexid my goost so that nothyng wiste I</l>
<l>What that I to yow spak or what I thoghte,</l>
<l>But heer and there I myselven soghte.</l>
<l>"I preye yow, deemeth nat that in despyt</l>
<l>I hadde yow for age or povertee;</l>
<l>I mente it nat, but I stood in swich plyt</l>
<l>That it was nothyng likly unto me,</l>
<l>Thogh yee had knowen al my privetee,</l>
<l>That yee mighten my greef thus han abregged</l>
<l>As yee han doon, so sore I was agregged.</l>
<l>"Fadir, as wysly God me save and speede,</l>
<l>Yee been nat he whom that I wende han fownde;</l>
<l>Yee been to me ful welcome in this neede.</l>
<l>I woot wel yee in hy vertu habownde;</l>
<l>Your wys reed hope I hele shal my wownde;</l>
<l>My day of helthe is present, as me thynkith;</l>
<l>Your confort deepe into myn herte synkith.</l>
<l>"Myn herte seith that your benevolence,</l>
<l>Of routhe meeved and verray pitee</l>
<l>Of my wo, dooth his peyne and diligence</l>
<l>Me to releeve of myn infirmitee.</l>
<l>O, goode fadir, blessid moot yee be,</l>
<l>That han swich routhe of my woful estat,</l>
<l>Which wel ny was of helthe desperat.</l>
<l>"But, fadir, thogh ther be dyversitee</l>
<l>Ful greet betwixt your excellent prudence</l>
<l>And the folie that regneth in me,</l>
<l>Yit, God it woot, ful litil difference</l>
<l>Is ther betwixt the hete and the fervence</l>
<l>Of love which to agid folk yee have</l>
<l>And myn, althogh yee deeme I hem deprave.</l>
<l>"For if that I the soothe shal confesse,</l>
<l>The lak of olde mennes cherisshynge</l>
<l>Is cause and ground of al myn hevynesse</l>
<l>And encheson of my woful mournynge.</l>
<l>That shal yee knowe, if it be your lykynge</l>
<l>The cause wite of myn adversitee."</l>
<l>"Yis, telle on in the name of Cryst," seide he.</l>
<l>"Sauf first, or thow any ferther proceede,</l>
<l>O thyng of thee wite wolde I, my sone:</l>
<l>Wher dwellist thow?" "Fadir, withouten dreede,</l>
<l>In the office of the Privee Seel I wone</l>
<l>And wryte - there is my custume and wone</l>
<l>Unto the Seel, and have twenti yeer</l>
<l>And foure come Estren, and that is neer."</l>
<l>"Now sikir, sone, that is a fair tyme;</l>
<l>The tokne is good of thy continuance.</l>
<l>Come hidir, goode, and sitte adoun heer by me,</l>
<l>For I moot reste a whyle; it is penance</l>
<l>To me thus longe walke - it dooth nusance</l>
<l>Unto my crookid, feeble lymes olde,</l>
<l>That been so stif, unnethe I may hem folde."</l>
<l>Whan I was set adoun as he me preide,</l>
<l>"Telle on," seide he, "how is it with thee, how?"</l>
<l>And I began my tale and thus I seide:</l>
<l>"My lige lord, the kyng which that is now,</l>
<l>I fynde to me gracious ynow;</l>
<l>God yilde him, he hath for my long servyse</l>
<l>Guerdouned me in covenable wyse.</l>
<l>"In th'eschequeer, he of his special grace</l>
<l>Hath to me grauntid an annuitee</l>
<l>Of twenti mark whyle I have lyves space.</l>
<l>Mighte I ay payd been of that duetee,</l>
<l>It sholde stonde wel ynow with me;</l>
<l>But paiement is hard to gete adayes,</l>
<l>And that me putte in many foule affrayes.</l>
<l>"It gooth ful streite and sharpe or I it have.</l>
<l>If I seur were of it be satisfied</l>
<l>Fro yeer to yeer, thanne, so God me save,</l>
<l>My deepe-rootid greef were remedied</l>
<l>Souffissantly. But how I shal be gyed</l>
<l>Heeraftir, whan that I no lenger serve -</l>
<l>This hevyeth me so that I wel ny sterve.</l>
<l>"For syn that I now in myn age greene,</l>
<l>And beynge in court, with greet peyne unnethe</l>
<l>Am paid, in elde and out of court, I weene,</l>
<l>My purs for that may be a ferthyng shethe;</l>
<l>Lo, fadir myn, this dullith me to dethe.</l>
<l>Now God helpe al, for but he me socoure,</l>
<l>My future yeeres lyk been to be soure."</l>
<l>"Service, I woot wel, is noon heritage;</l>
<l>Whan I am out of court anothir day,</l>
<l>As I moot whan upon me hastith age</l>
<l>And that no lenger I laboure may,</l>
<l>Unto my poore cote, it is no nay,</l>
<l>I moot me drawe and my fortune abyde,</l>
<l>And suffre storm aftir the mery tyde.</l>
<l>"Ther preeve I shal the mutabilitee</l>
<l>Of this wrecchid worldes affeccion,</l>
<l>Which, whan that youthe is past, begynneth flee.</l>
<l>Frendshipe, adieu! Farwel, dileccion!</l>
<l>Age is put out of your proteccion;</l>
<l>His look unlusty and his inpotence</l>
<l>Qwenchith your love and your benevolence.</l>
<l>"That aftirclap in my mynde so deepe</l>
<l>Yficchid is, and hath swich roote ycaght,</l>
<l>That al my joie and mirthe is leid to sleepe;</l>
<l>My ship is wel ny with despeir yfraght.</l>
<l>They that nat konne lerned be ne taght</l>
<l>By swiche ensamples smerte as they han seen,</l>
<l>Me thynkith certes over blynde been.</l>
<l>"Allas! I see routhe and pitee exylid</l>
<l>Out of this land. Allas, conpassioun!</l>
<l>Whan shul yee thre to us be reconsylid?</l>
<l>Your absence is my grevous passioun;</l>
<l>Resorte, I preye yow, to this regioun;</l>
<l>O, come ageyn! The lak of your presence</l>
<l>Manaceth me to sterve in indigence.</l>
<l>"O fikil world, allas thy variance!</l>
<l>How many a gentil man may men now see</l>
<l>That whilom in the werres olde of France</l>
<l>Honured were and holde in greet cheertee</l>
<l>For hir prowesse in armes, and plentee</l>
<l>Of freendes hadde in youthe, and now, for shame,</l>
<l>Allas, hir frendshipe is crookid and lame!</l>
<l>"Now age unourne away puttith favour</l>
<l>That floury youthe in his seson conquerde;</l>
<l>Now al forgote is the manly labour</l>
<l>Thurgh which ful ofte they hir foos aferde.</l>
<l>Now been tho worthy men bet with the yerde</l>
<l>Of neede, allas, and noon hath of hem routhe;</l>
<l>Pitee I trowe is biried, by my trouthe.</l>
<l>"If shee be deed, God have hir soule, I preye,</l>
<l>And so shal mo heeraftir preye, I trowe.</l>
<l>He that pretendith him of moost nobleye,</l>
<l>If he hir lakke, shal wel wite and knowe</l>
<l>That crueltee hir fo may but a throwe</l>
<l>Him suffre for to lyve in any welthe;</l>
<l>Herte pitous to body and soule is helthe.</l>
<l>"Yee olde men of armes, that han knowe</l>
<l>By sight and by report hir worthynesse,</l>
<l>Lat nat mescheef tho men thus overthrowe;</l>
<l>Kythe upon hem your manly gentillesse.</l>
<l>Yee yonge men that entre into prowesse</l>
<l>Of armes eek, youre fadres olde honurith;</l>
<l>Helpe hem yourself, or sum good hem procurith.</l>
<l>"Knyghthode, awake! Thow sleepist to longe;</l>
<l>Thy brothir, see, ny dieth for mescheef;</l>
<l>Awake and reewe upon his peynes stronge.</l>
<l>If thow heeraftir come unto swich preef,</l>
<l>Thow wilt ful sore thriste aftir releef;</l>
<l>Thow art nat seur what that thee shal befalle.</l>
<l>Welthe is ful slipir; be waar lest thow falle.</l>
<l>"Thow that yclomben art in hy honoures,</l>
<l>And hast this worldes welthe at thy devys,</l>
<l>And bathist now in youthes lusty floures;</l>
<l>Be waar, rede I, thow standist on the ys.</l>
<l>It hath been seen, as weleful and as wys</l>
<l>As thow han slide; and thow that no pitee</l>
<l>On othir folk hast, who shal reewe on thee?</l>
<l>"Leeve me wel, ther is noon eerthely man</l>
<l>That hath so stable a welthe but that it</l>
<l>May faille, do he what that he do can.</l>
<l>God as him list visitith folk and smit;</l>
<l>Wherfore I deeme and holde it grace and wit</l>
<l>In hy estat, man God and himself knowe,</l>
<l>And releeve hem that mescheef hath doun throwe.</l>
<l>"God wole that the needy be releeved;</l>
<l>It is oon of the werkis of mercy.</l>
<l>And syn tho men that been in armes preeved</l>
<l>Been into povert falle, treewely</l>
<l>Yee men of armes oghten specially</l>
<l>Helpe hem. Allas! han yee no pitous blood</l>
<l>That may yow stire for to doon hem good?</l>
<l>"O now in ernest, deere fadir myn,</l>
<l>Thise worthy men to me the mirour shewe</l>
<l>Of slipir frendshipe, and unto what fyn</l>
<l>I drawe shal withyn a yeeres fewe.</l>
<l>Upon this woful thoght I hakke and hewe</l>
<l>And muse so that unto lyte I madde,</l>
<l>And lever die than lyven I hadde.</l>
<l>"In feith, fadir, my lyflode, besyde</l>
<l>Th'annuite of which above I tolde,</l>
<l>May nat exceede yeerly in no tyde</l>
<l>Six marc. That sit to myn herte so colde,</l>
<l>Whan that I looke abouten and beholde</l>
<l>How scars it is, if that that othir faille,</l>
<l>That I nat glade can but mourne and waille.</l>
<l>"And as ferfoorth as I can deeme or gesse,</l>
<l>Whan I at hoom dwelle in my poore cote,</l>
<l>I fynde shal as freendly slipirnesse</l>
<l>As tho men now doon, whos frendshipe is rote.</l>
<l>Nat wolde I rekke as mochil as a mote,</l>
<l>Thogh I no more hadde of yeerly encrees,</l>
<l>So that I mighte ay payed be doutlees.</l>
<l>"Two parties of my lyf and mochil more</l>
<l>I seur am past been - I ne doute it noght;</l>
<l>And if that I sholde in my yeeres hore</l>
<l>Forgo my duetee that I have boght</l>
<l>With my flessh and my blood, that hevy thoght,</l>
<l>Which I drede ay shal falle as I it thynke,</l>
<l>Me hastith blyve unto my pittes brynke.</l>
<l>Faylynge, fadir, myn annuitee,</l>
<l>Foot-hoot in me creepith disese and wo,</l>
<l>For they that han byfore knowen me,</l>
<l>Faylynge good, me faille wole also.</l>
<l>Who no good hath is fer his freendes fro.</l>
<l>In muk is al this worldes freendlyhede;</l>
<l>My goost is wrappid in an hevy drede.</l>
<l>"If that I hadde of custume or this tyme</l>
<l>Lyved in indigences wrecchidnesse,</l>
<l>The lesse heeraftir sholde it sit by me;</l>
<l>But in myn age wrastle with hardnesse,</l>
<l>That with him stroglid nevere in the grennesse</l>
<l>Of youthe - that mutacion and chaunge</l>
<l>Anothir day me seeme sholde al straunge.</l>
<l>"He that nevere kneew the swetnesse of wele,</l>
<l>Thogh he it lakke ay, lesse him greeve it shal</l>
<l>Than him that hath been welthy yeeres fele,</l>
<l>And in effect hath felt no greef at al.</l>
<l>O povert, God me sheelde fro thy fal!</l>
<l>O deeth! Thy strook yit is more agreable</l>
<l>To me than lyve a lyf so miserable.</l>
<l>"Six marc yeerly and no more than that,</l>
<l>Fadir, to me me thynkith is ful lyte,</l>
<l>Considerynge how that I am nat</l>
<l>In housbondrye lerned worth a myte;</l>
<l>Scarsely kowde I charre away the kyte</l>
<l>That me byreve wolde my pullaille,</l>