In Rome, to poursuie his riht,Ther was a worthi povere kniht,Which cam al one forto seinHis cause, when the court was plein,Wher Julius was in presence.And for him lacketh of despence,Ther was with him non advocatTo make ple for his astat.Bot thogh him lacke forto plede,Him lacketh nothing of manhede; 2070He wiste wel his pours was povere,Bot yit he thoghte his riht recovere,And openly poverte alleide,To themperour and thus he seide:“O Julius, lord of the lawe,Behold, mi conseil is withdraweFor lacke of gold: do thin officeAfter the lawes of justice:Help that I hadde conseil hiereUpon the trouthe of mi matiere.” 2080And Julius with that anonAssigned him a worthi on,Bot he himself no word ne spak.This kniht was wroth and fond a lakIn themperour, and seide thus:“O thou unkinde Julius,Whan thou in thi bataille wereUp in Aufrique, and I was there,Mi myht for thi rescousse I dedeAnd putte noman in my stede, 2090Thou wost what woundes ther I hadde:Bot hier I finde thee so badde,That thee ne liste speke o wordThin oghne mouth, nor of thin hordTo yive a florin me to helpe.Hou scholde I thanne me beyelpeFro this dai forth of thi largesse,Whan such a gret unkindenesseIs founde in such a lord as thou?”This Julius knew wel ynou 2100That al was soth which he him tolde;And for he wolde noght ben holdeUnkinde, he tok his cause on honde,And as it were of goddes sonde,He yaf him good ynouh to spendeFor evere into his lives ende.And thus scholde every worthi kingTake of his knihtes knowleching,Whan that he syh thei hadden nede,For every service axeth mede: 2110Bot othre, which have noght deservedThurgh vertu, bot of japes served,A king schal noght deserve grace,Thogh he be large in such a place.It sit wel every king to haveDiscrecion, whan men him crave,So that he mai his yifte wite:Wherof I finde a tale write,Hou Cinichus a povere knihtA Somme which was over myht 2120Preide of his king Antigonus.The king ansuerde to him thus,And seide hou such a yifte passethHis povere astat: and thanne he lasseth,And axeth bot a litel peny,If that the king wol yive him eny.The king ansuerde, it was to smalFor him, which was a lord real;To yive a man so litel thingIt were unworschipe in a king. 2130Be this ensample a king mai lereThat forto yive is in manere:For if a king his tresor lassethWithoute honour and thonkles passeth,Whan he himself wol so beguile,I not who schal compleigne his while,Ne who be rihte him schal relieve.Bot natheles this I believe,To helpe with his oghne londBehoveth every man his hond 2140To sette upon necessite;And ek his kinges realteMot every liege man conforte,With good and bodi to supporte,Whan thei se cause resonable:For who that is noght entendableTo holde upriht his kinges name,Him oghte forto be to blame.Of Policie and overmoreTo speke in this matiere more, 2150So as the Philosophre tolde,A king after the reule is holdeTo modifie and to adresceHise yiftes upon such largesceThat he mesure noght excede:For if a king falle into nede,It causeth ofte sondri thingesWhiche are ungoodly to the kinges.What man wol noght himself mesure,Men sen fulofte that mesure 2160Him hath forsake: and so doth heThat useth Prodegalite,Which is the moder of poverte,Wherof the londes ben deserte;And namely whan thilke viceAboute a king stant in officeAnd hath withholde of his partieThe covoitouse flaterie,Which many a worthi king deceiveth,Er he the fallas aperceiveth 2170Of hem that serven to the glose.For thei that cunnen plese and glose,Ben, as men tellen, the norricesUnto the fostringe of the vices,Wherof fulofte nathelesA king is blamed gulteles.A Philosophre, as thou schalt hiere,Spak to a king of this matiere,And seide him wel hou that flatoursCoupable were of thre errours. 2180On was toward the goddes hihe,That weren wrothe of that thei siheThe meschief which befalle scholdeOf that the false flatour tolde.Toward the king an other was,Whan thei be sleihte and be fallasOf feigned wordes make him weneThat blak is whyt and blew is greneTouchende of his condicion:For whanne he doth extorcion 2190With manye an other vice mo,Men schal noght finden on of thoTo groucche or speke therayein,Bot holden up his oil and seinThat al is wel, what evere he doth;And thus of fals thei maken soth,So that here kinges yhe is blentAnd wot not hou the world is went.The thridde errour is harm comune,With which the poeple mot commune 2200Of wronges that thei bringen inne:And thus thei worchen treble sinne,That ben flatours aboute a king.Ther myhte be no worse thingAboute a kinges regalie,Thanne is the vice of flaterie.And natheles it hath ben used,That it was nevere yit refusedAs forto speke in court real;For there it is most special, 2210And mai noght longe be forbore.Bot whan this vice of hem is bore,That scholden the vertus forthbringe,And trouthe is torned to lesinge,It is, as who seith, ayein kinde,Wherof an old ensample I finde.Among these othre tales wiseOf Philosophres, in this wiseI rede, how whilom tuo ther were,And to the Scole forto lere 2220Unto Athenes fro CartageHere frendes, whan thei were of Age,Hem sende; and ther thei stoden longe,Til thei such lore have underfonge,That in here time thei surmonteAlle othre men, that to acompteOf hem was tho the grete fame.The ferste of hem his rihte nameWas Diogenes thanne hote,In whom was founde no riote: 2230His felaw Arisippus hyhte,Which mochel couthe and mochel myhte.Bot ate laste, soth to sein,Thei bothe tornen hom ayeinUnto Cartage and scole lete.This Diogenes no beyeteOf worldes good or lasse or moreNe soghte for his longe lore,Bot tok him only forto duelleAt hom; and as the bokes telle, 2240His hous was nyh to the rivereBesyde a bregge, as thou schalt hiere.Ther duelleth he to take his reste,So as it thoghte him for the beste,To studie in his Philosophie,As he which wolde so defieThe worldes pompe on every syde.Bot Arisippe his bok asideHath leid, and to the court he wente,Wher many a wyle and many a wente 2250With flaterie and wordes softeHe caste, and hath compassed ofteHou he his Prince myhte plese;And in this wise he gat him eseOf vein honour and worldes good.The londes reule upon him stod,The king of him was wonder glad,And all was do, what thing he bad,Bothe in the court and ek withoute.With flaterie he broghte aboute 2260His pourpos of the worldes werk,Which was ayein the stat of clerk,So that Philosophie he lefteAnd to richesse himself uplefte:Lo, thus hadde Arisippe his wille.Bot Diogenes duelte stilleA home and loked on his bok:He soghte noght the worldes crokFor vein honour ne for richesse,Bot all his hertes besinesse 2270He sette to be vertuous;And thus withinne his oghne housHe liveth to the sufficanceOf his havinge. And fell per chance,This Diogene upon a day,And that was in the Monthe of May,Whan that these herbes ben holsome,He walketh forto gadre someIn his gardin, of whiche his joutesHe thoghte have, and thus aboutes 2280Whanne he hath gadred what him liketh,He satte him thanne doun and pyketh,And wyssh his herbes in the flodUpon the which his gardin stod,Nyh to the bregge, as I tolde er.And hapneth, whil he sitteth ther,Cam Arisippes be the streteWith manye hors and routes grete,And straght unto the bregge he rod.Wher that he hoved and abod; 2290For as he caste his yhe nyh,His felaw Diogene he syh,And what he dede he syh also,Wherof he seide to him so:“O Diogene, god thee spede.It were certes litel nedeTo sitte there and wortes pyke,If thou thi Prince couthest lyke,So as I can in my degre.”“O Arisippe,” ayein quod he, 2300“If that thou couthist, so as I,Thi wortes pyke, trewelyIt were als litel nede or lasse,That thou so worldly wolt compasseWith flaterie forto serve,Wherof thou thenkest to deserveThi princes thonk, and to pourchaceHou thou myht stonden in his grace,For getinge of a litel good.If thou wolt take into thi mod 2310Reson, thou myht be reson deemeThat so thi prince forto queemeIs noght to reson acordant,Bot it is gretly descordantUnto the Scoles of Athene.”Lo, thus ansuerde DiogeneAyein the clerkes flaterie.Bot yit men sen thessamplerieOf Arisippe is wel received,And thilke of Diogene is weyved. 2320Office in court and gold in cofreIs nou, men sein, the philosophreWhich hath the worschipe in the halle;Bot flaterie passeth alleIn chambre, whom the court avanceth;For upon thilke lot it chancethTo be beloved nou aday.I not if it be ye or nay,Bot as the comun vois it telleth;Bot wher that flaterie duelleth 2330In eny lond under the Sonne,Ther is ful many a thing begonneWhich were betre to be left;That hath be schewed nou and eft.Bot if a Prince wolde him reuleOf the Romeins after the reule,In thilke time as it was used,This vice scholde be refused,Wherof the Princes ben assoted.Bot wher the pleine trouthe is noted, 2340Ther may a Prince wel conceive,That he schal noght himself deceive,Of that he hiereth wordes pleine;For him thar noght be reson pleigne,That warned is er him be wo.And that was fully proeved tho,Whan Rome was the worldes chief,The Sothseiere tho was lief,Which wolde noght the trouthe spare,Bot with hise wordes pleine and bare 2350To Themperour hise sothes tolde,As in Cronique is yit withholde,Hierafterward as thou schalt hiereAcordende unto this matiere.To se this olde ensamplerie,That whilom was no flaterieToward the Princes wel I finde;Wherof so as it comth to mynde,Mi Sone, a tale unto thin Ere,Whil that the worthi princes were 2360At Rome, I thenke forto tellen.For whan the chances so befellenThat eny Emperour as thoVictoire hadde upon his fo,And so forth cam to Rome ayein,Of treble honour he was certein,Wherof that he was magnefied.The ferste, as it is specefied,Was, whan he cam at thilke tyde,The Charr in which he scholde ryde 2370Foure whyte Stiedes scholden drawe;Of Jupiter be thilke laweThe Cote he scholde were also;Hise prisoners ek scholden goEndlong the Charr on eyther hond,And alle the nobles of the londTofore and after with him comeRidende and broghten him to Rome,In thonk of his chivalerieAnd for non other flaterie. 2380And that was schewed forth withal;Wher he sat in his Charr real,Beside him was a Ribald set,Which hadde hise wordes so beset,To themperour in al his gloireHe seide, “Tak into memoire,For al this pompe and al this prideLet no justice gon aside,Bot know thiself, what so befalle.For men sen ofte time falle 2390Thing which men wende siker stonde:Thogh thou victoire have nou on honde,Fortune mai noght stonde alway;The whiel per chance an other dayMai torne, and thou myht overthrowe;Ther lasteth nothing bot a throwe.”With these wordes and with moThis Ribald, which sat with him tho,To Themperour his tale tolde:And overmor what evere he wolde, 2400Or were it evel or were it good,So pleinly as the trouthe stod,He spareth noght, bot spekth it oute;And so myhte every man abouteThe day of that solempneteHis tale telle als wel as heTo Themperour al openly.And al was this the cause why;That whil he stod in that noblesse,He scholde his vanite represse 2410With suche wordes as he herde.Lo nou, hou thilke time it ferdeToward so hih a worthi lord:For this I finde ek of record,Which the Cronique hath auctorized.What Emperour was entronized,The ferste day of his corone,Wher he was in his real ThroneAnd hield his feste in the paleisSittende upon his hihe deis 2420With al the lust that mai be gete,Whan he was gladdest at his mete,And every menstral hadde pleid,And every Disour hadde seidWhat most was plesant to his Ere,Than ate laste comen thereHise Macons, for thei scholden craveWher that he wolde be begrave,And of what Ston his sepultureThei scholden make, and what sculpture 2430He wolde ordeine therupon.Tho was ther flaterie nonThe worthi princes to bejape;The thing was other wise schapeWith good conseil; and otherwiseThei were hemselven thanne wise,And understoden wel and knewen.Whan suche softe wyndes blewenOf flaterie into here Ere,Thei setten noght here hertes there; 2440Bot whan thei herden wordes feigned,The pleine trouthe it hath desdeignedOf hem that weren so discrete.So tok the flatour no beyeteOf him that was his prince tho:And forto proven it is so,A tale which befell in dedeIn a Cronique of Rome I rede.Cesar upon his real throneWher that he sat in his persone 2450And was hyest in al his pris,A man, which wolde make him wys,Fell doun knelende in his presence,And dede him such a reverence,As thogh the hihe god it were:Men hadden gret mervaille thereOf the worschipe which he dede.This man aros fro thilke stede,And forth with al the same tydeHe goth him up and be his side 2460He set him doun as pier and pier,And seide, “If thou that sittest hierArt god, which alle thinges myht,Thanne have I do worshipe arihtAs to the god; and other wise,If thou be noght of thilke assisse,Bot art a man such as am I,Than mai I sitte faste by,For we be bothen of o kinde.”Cesar ansuerde and seide, “O blinde, 2470Thou art a fol, it is wel seneUpon thiself: for if thou weneI be a god, thou dost amysTo sitte wher thou sest god is;And if I be a man, alsoThou hast a gret folie do,Whan thou to such on as schal deieThe worschipe of thi god aweieHast yoven so unworthely.Thus mai I prove redely, 2480Thou art noght wys.” And thei that herdeHou wysly that the king ansuerde,It was to hem a newe lore;Wherof thei dradden him the more,And broghten nothing to his Ere,Bot if it trouthe and reson were.So be ther manye, in such a wiseThat feignen wordes to be wise,And al is verray flaterieTo him which can it wel aspie. 2490The kinde flatour can noght loveBot forto bringe himself above;For hou that evere his maister fare,So that himself stonde out of care,Him reccheth noght: and thus fulofteDeceived ben with wordes softeThe kinges that ben innocent.Wherof as for chastiementThe wise Philosophre seide,What king that so his tresor leide 2500Upon such folk, he hath the lesse,And yit ne doth he no largesse,Bot harmeth with his oghne hondHimself and ek his oghne lond,And that be many a sondri weie.Wherof if that a man schal seie,As forto speke in general,Wher such thing falleth overalThat eny king himself misreule,The Philosophre upon his reule 2510In special a cause sette,Which is and evere hath be the letteIn governance aboute a kingUpon the meschief of the thing,And that, he seith, is Flaterie.Wherof tofore as in partieWhat vice it is I have declared;For who that hath his wit bewaredUpon a flatour to believe,Whan that he weneth best achieve 2520His goode world, it is most fro.And forto proeven it is soEnsamples ther ben manyon,Of whiche if thou wolt knowen on,It is behovely forto hiereWhat whilom fell in this matiere.Among the kinges in the bibleI finde a tale, and is credible,Of him that whilom Achab hihte,Which hadde al Irahel to rihte; 2530Bot who that couthe glose softeAnd flatre, suche he sette alofteIn gret astat and made hem riche;Bot thei that spieken wordes licheTo trouthe and wolde it noght forbere,For hem was non astat to bere,The court of suche tok non hiede.Til ate laste upon a nede,That Benedab king of SurieOf Irahel a gret partie, 2540Which Ramoth Galaath was hote,Hath sesed; and of that rioteHe tok conseil in sondri wise,Bot noght of hem that weren wise.And natheles upon this casTo strengthen him, for Josaphas,Which thanne was king of Judee,He sende forto come, as heWhich thurgh frendschipe and allianceWas next to him of aqueintance; 2550For Joram Sone of JosaphathAchabbes dowhter wedded hath,Which hihte faire Godelie.And thus cam into SamarieKing Josaphat, and he fond thereThe king Achab: and whan thei wereTogedre spekende of this thing,This Josaphat seith to the king,Hou that he wolde gladly hiereSom trew prophete in this matiere, 2560That he his conseil myhte yiveTo what point that it schal be drive.And in that time so befell,Ther was such on in Irahel,Which sette him al to flaterie,And he was cleped Sedechie;And after him Achab hath sent:And he at his comandementTofore him cam, and be a sleyhteHe hath upon his heved on heyhte 2570Tuo large hornes set of bras,As he which al a flatour was,And goth rampende as a leounAnd caste hise hornes up and doun,And bad men ben of good espeir,For as the hornes percen their,He seith, withoute resistence,So wiste he wel of his scienceThat Benedab is desconfit.Whan Sedechie upon this plit 2580Hath told this tale to his lord,Anon ther were of his acordProphetes false manye moTo bere up oil, and alle thoAffermen that which he hath told,Wherof the king Achab was boldAnd yaf hem yiftes al aboute.But Josaphat was in gret doute,And hield fantosme al that he herde,Preiende Achab, hou so it ferde, 2590If ther were eny other man,The which of prophecie can,To hiere him speke er that thei gon.Quod Achab thanne, “Ther is on,A brothell, which Micheas hihte;Bot he ne comth noght in my sihte,For he hath longe in prison lein.Him liketh nevere yit to seinA goodly word to mi plesance;And natheles at thin instance 2600He schal come oute, and thanne he maySeie as he seide many day;For yit he seide nevere wel.”Tho Josaphat began somdelTo gladen him in hope of trouthe,And bad withouten eny sloutheThat men him scholden fette anon.And thei that weren for him gon,Whan that thei comen wher he was,Thei tolden unto Micheas 2610The manere hou that SedechieDeclared hath his prophecie;And therupon thei preie him faireThat he wol seie no contraire,Wherof the king mai be desplesed,For so schal every man ben esed,And he mai helpe himselve also.Micheas upon trouthe thoHis herte sette, and to hem seith,Al that belongeth to his feith 2620And of non other feigned thing,That wol he telle unto his king,Als fer as god hath yove him grace.Thus cam this prophete into placeWher he the kinges wille herde;And he therto anon ansuerde,And seide unto him in this wise:“Mi liege lord, for mi servise,Which trewe hath stonden evere yit,Thou hast me with prisone aquit; 2630Bot for al that I schal noght gloseOf trouthe als fer as I suppose;And as touchende of this bataille,Thou schalt noght of the sothe faile.For if it like thee to hiere,As I am tauht in that matiere,Thou miht it understonde sone;Bot what is afterward to doneAvise thee, for this I sih.I was tofor the throne on hih, 2640Wher al the world me thoghte stod,And there I herde and understodThe vois of god with wordes cliereAxende, and seide in this manere:“In what thing mai I best beguileThe king Achab?” And for a whileUpon this point thei spieken faste.Tho seide a spirit ate laste,“I undertake this emprise.”And god him axeth in what wise. 2650“I schal,” quod he, “deceive and lyeWith flaterende prophecieIn suche mouthes as he lieveth.”And he which alle thing achievethBad him go forth and don riht so.And over this I sih alsoThe noble peple of IrahelDispers as Schep upon an hell,Withoute a kepere unarraied:And as thei wente aboute astraied, 2660I herde a vois unto hem sein,“Goth hom into your hous ayein,Til I for you have betre ordeigned.”Quod Sedechie, “Thou hast feignedThis tale in angringe of the king.”And in a wraththe upon this thingHe smot Michee upon the cheke;The king him hath rebuked eke,And every man upon him cride:Thus was he schent on every side, 2670Ayein and into prison lad,For so the king himselve bad.The trouthe myhte noght ben herd;Bot afterward as it hath ferd,The dede proveth his entente:Achab to the bataille wente,Wher Benedab for al his ScheldHim slouh, so that upon the feldHis poeple goth aboute astray.Bot god, which alle thinges may, 2680So doth that thei no meschief have;Here king was ded and thei ben save,And hom ayein in goddes pesThei wente, and al was founde lesThat Sedechie hath seid tofore.So sit it wel a king therforeTo loven hem that trouthe mene;For ate laste it wol be seneThat flaterie is nothing worth.Bot nou to mi matiere forth, 2690As forto speken overmoreAfter the Philosophres lore,The thridde point of PolicieI thenke forto specifie.What is a lond wher men ben none?What ben the men whiche are al oneWithoute a kinges governance?What is a king in his ligance,Wher that ther is no lawe in londe?What is to take lawe on honde, 2700Bot if the jugges weren trewe?These olde worldes with the neweWho that wol take in evidence,Ther mai he se thexperience,What thing it is to kepe lawe,Thurgh which the wronges ben withdraweAnd rihtwisnesse stant commended,Wherof the regnes ben amended.For wher the lawe mai comuneThe lordes forth with the commune, 2710Ech hath his propre duete;And ek the kinges realteOf bothe his worschipe underfongeth,To his astat as it belongeth,Which of his hihe worthinesseHath to governe rihtwisnesse,As he which schal the lawe guide.And natheles upon som sideHis pouer stant above the lawe,To yive bothe and to withdrawe 2720The forfet of a mannes lif;But thinges whiche are excessifAyein the lawe, he schal noght doFor love ne for hate also.The myhtes of a king ben grete,Bot yit a worthi king schal leteOf wrong to don, al that he myhte;For he which schal the poeple ryhte,It sit wel to his regalieThat he himself ferst justefie 2730Towardes god in his degre:For his astat is elles freToward alle othre in his persone,Save only to the god al one,Which wol himself a king chastise,Wher that non other mai suffise.So were it good to taken hiedeThat ferst a king his oghne dedeBetwen the vertu and the viceRedresce, and thanne of his justice 2740So sette in evene the balanceTowardes othre in governance,That to the povere and to the richeHise lawes myhten stonde liche,He schal excepte no persone.Bot for he mai noght al him oneIn sondri places do justice,He schal of his real officeWith wys consideracionOrdeigne his deputacion 2750Of suche jugges as ben lerned,So that his poeple be governedBe hem that trewe ben and wise.For if the lawe of covoitiseBe set upon a jugges hond,Wo is the poeple of thilke lond,For wrong mai noght himselven hyde:Bot elles on that other side,If lawe stonde with the riht,The poeple is glad and stant upriht. 2760Wher as the lawe is resonable,The comun poeple stant menable,And if the lawe torne amis,The poeple also mistorned is.And in ensample of this matiereOf Maximin a man mai hiere,Of Rome which was Emperour,That whanne he made a governourBe weie of substitucionOf Province or of region, 2770He wolde ferst enquere his name,And let it openly proclameWhat man he were, or evel or good.And upon that his name stodEnclin to vertu or to vice,So wolde he sette him in office,Or elles putte him al aweie.Thus hield the lawe his rihte weie,Which fond no let of covoitise:The world stod than upon the wise, 2780As be ensample thou myht rede;And hold it in thi mynde, I rede.In a Cronique I finde thus,Hou that Gayus Fabricius,Which whilom was Consul of Rome,Be whom the lawes yede and come,Whan the Sampnites to him broghteA somme of gold, and him besoghteTo don hem favour in the lawe,Toward the gold he gan him drawe, 2790Wherof in alle mennes lokA part up in his hond he tok,Which to his mouth in alle hasteHe putte, it forto smelle and taste,And to his yhe and to his Ere,Bot he ne fond no confort there:And thanne he gan it to despise,And tolde unto hem in this wise:“I not what is with gold to thryve,Whan non of all my wittes fyve 2800Fynt savour ne delit therinne.So is it bot a nyce SinneOf gold to ben to covoitous;Bot he is riche and glorious,Which hath in his subjeccionTho men whiche in possessionBen riche of gold, and be this skile;For he mai aldai whan he wile,Or be hem lieve or be hem lothe,Justice don upon hem bothe.” 2810Lo, thus he seide, and with that wordHe threw tofore hem on the bordThe gold out of his hond anon,And seide hem that he wolde non:So that he kepte his liberteTo do justice and equite,Withoute lucre of such richesse.Ther be nou fewe of suche, I gesse;For it was thilke times used,That every jugge was refused 2820Which was noght frend to comun riht;Bot thei that wolden stonde uprihtFor trouthe only to do justicePreferred were in thilke officeTo deme and jugge commun lawe:Which nou, men sein, is al withdrawe.To sette a lawe and kepe it noghtTher is no comun profit soght;Bot above alle nathelesThe lawe, which is mad for pes, 2830Is good to kepe for the beste,For that set alle men in reste.The rihtful Emperour ConradeTo kepe pes such lawe made,That non withinne the citeIn destorbance of uniteDorste ones moeven a matiere.For in his time, as thou myht hiere,What point that was for lawe setIt scholde for no gold be let, 2840To what persone that it were.And this broghte in the comun fere,Why every man the lawe dradde,For ther was non which favour hadde.So as these olde bokes sein,I finde write hou a Romein,Which Consul was of the Pretoire,Whos name was Carmidotoire,He sette a lawe for the pes,That non, bot he be wepneles, 2850Schal come into the conseil hous,And elles as maliciousHe schal ben of the lawe ded.To that statut and to that redAcorden alle it schal be so,For certein cause which was tho:Nou lest what fell therafter sone.This Consul hadde forto done,And was into the feldes ride;And thei him hadden longe abide, 2860That lordes of the conseil were,And for him sende, and he cam thereWith swerd begert, and hath foryete,Til he was in the conseil sete.Was non of hem that made speche,Til he himself it wolde seche,And fond out the defalte himselve;And thanne he seide unto the tuelve,Whiche of the Senat weren wise,“I have deserved the juise, 2870In haste that it were do.”And thei him seiden alle no;For wel thei wiste it was no vice,Whan he ne thoghte no malice,Bot onliche of a litel slouthe:And thus thei leften as for routheTo do justice upon his gilt,For that he scholde noght be spilt.And whanne he sih the maner houThei wolde him save, he made avou 2880With manfull herte, and thus he seide,That Rome scholde nevere abreideHis heires, whan he were of dawe,That here Ancestre brak the lawe.Forthi, er that thei weren war,Forth with the same swerd he barThe statut of his lawe he kepte,So that al Rome his deth bewepte.In other place also I rede,Wher that a jugge his oghne dede 2890Ne wol noght venge of lawe broke,The king it hath himselven wroke.The grete king which CambisesWas hote, a jugge lawelesHe fond, and into remembranceHe dede upon him such vengance:Out of his skyn he was beflainAl quyk, and in that wise slain,So that his skyn was schape al meete,And nayled on the same seete 2900Wher that his Sone scholde sitte.Avise him, if he wolde flitteThe lawe for the coveitise,Ther sih he redi his juise.Thus in defalte of other juggeThe king mot otherwhile jugge,To holden up the rihte lawe.And forto speke of tholde dawe,To take ensample of that was tho,I finde a tale write also, 2910Hou that a worthi prince is holdeThe lawes of his lond to holde,Ferst for the hihe goddes sake,And ek for that him is betakeThe poeple forto guide and lede,Which is the charge of his kinghede.In a Cronique I rede thusOf the rihtful Ligurgius,Which of Athenis Prince was,Hou he the lawe in every cas, 2920Wherof he scholde his poeple reule,Hath set upon so good a reule,In al this world that cite nonOf lawe was so wel begonForth with the trouthe of governance.Ther was among hem no distance,Bot every man hath his encress;Ther was withoute werre pes,Withoute envie love stod;Richesse upon the comun good 2930And noght upon the singulerOrdeigned was, and the pouerOf hem that weren in astatWas sauf: wherof upon debatTher stod nothing, so that in resteMihte every man his herte reste.And whan this noble rihtful kingSih hou it ferde of al this thing,Wherof the poeple stod in ese,He, which for evere wolde plese 2940The hihe god, whos thonk he soghte,A wonder thing thanne him bethoghte,And schop if that it myhte be,Hou that his lawe in the citeMihte afterward for evere laste.And therupon his wit he casteWhat thing him were best to feigne,That he his pourpos myhte atteigne.A Parlement and thus he sette,His wisdom wher that he besette 2950In audience of grete and smale,And in this wise he tolde his tale:“God wot, and so ye witen alle,Hierafterward hou so it falle,Yit into now my will hath beTo do justice and equiteIn forthringe of comun profit;Such hath ben evere my delit.Bot of o thing I am beknowe,The which mi will is that ye knowe: 2960The lawe which I tok on honde,Was altogedre of goddes sondeAnd nothing of myn oghne wit;So mot it nede endure yit,And schal do lengere, if ye wile.For I wol telle you the skile;The god Mercurius and no manHe hath me tawht al that I canOf suche lawes as I made,Wherof that ye ben alle glade; 2970It was the god and nothing I,Which dede al this, and nou forthiHe hath comanded of his graceThat I schal come into a placeWhich is forein out in an yle,Wher I mot tarie for a while,With him to speke, as he hath bede.For as he seith, in thilke stedeHe schal me suche thinges telle,That evere, whyl the world schal duelle, 2980Athenis schal the betre fare.Bot ferst, er that I thider fare,For that I wolde that mi laweAmonges you ne be withdraweTher whyles that I schal ben oute,Forthi to setten out of douteBothe you and me, this wol I preie,That ye me wolde assure and seieWith such an oth as I wol take,That ech of you schal undertake 2990Mi lawes forto kepe and holde.”Thei seiden alle that thei wolde,And therupon thei swore here oth,That fro the time that he goth,Til he to hem be come ayein,Thei scholde hise lawes wel and pleinIn every point kepe and fulfille.Thus hath Ligurgius his wille,And tok his leve and forth he wente.Bot lest nou wel to what entente 3000Of rihtwisnesse he dede so:For after that he was ago,He schop him nevere to be founde;So that Athenis, which was bounde,Nevere after scholde be relessed,Ne thilke goode lawe cessed,Which was for comun profit set.And in this wise he hath it knet;He, which the comun profit soghte,The king, his oghne astat ne roghte; 3010To do profit to the comune,He tok of exil the fortune,And lefte of Prince thilke officeOnly for love and for justice,Thurgh which he thoghte, if that he myhte,For evere after his deth to rihteThe cite which was him betake.Wherof men oghte ensample takeThe goode lawes to avanceWith hem which under governance 3020The lawes have forto kepe;For who that wolde take kepeOf hem that ferst the lawes founde,Als fer as lasteth eny boundeOf lond, here names yit ben knowe:And if it like thee to knoweSome of here names hou thei stonde,Nou herkne and thou schalt understonde.Of every bienfet the meriteThe god himself it wol aquite; 3030And ek fulofte it falleth so,The world it wole aquite also,Bot that mai noght ben evene liche:The god he yifth the heveneriche,The world yifth only bot a name,Which stant upon the goode fameOf hem that don the goode dede.And in this wise double medeResceiven thei that don wel hiere;Wherof if that thee list to hiere 3040After the fame as it is blowe,Ther myht thou wel the sothe knowe,Hou thilke honeste besinesseOf hem that ferst for rihtwisnesseAmong the men the lawes made,Mai nevere upon this erthe fade.For evere, whil ther is a tunge,Here name schal be rad and sungeAnd holde in the Cronique write;So that the men it scholden wite, 3050To speke good, as thei wel oghten,Of hem that ferst the lawes soghtenIn forthringe of the worldes pes.Unto thebreus was MoisesThe ferste, and to thegipciensMercurius, and to TroiensFerst was Neuma Pompilius,To Athenes LigurgiusYaf ferst the lawe, and to GregoisForoneus hath thilke vois, 3060And Romulus to the Romeins.For suche men that ben vileinsThe lawe in such a wise ordeigneth,That what man to the lawe pleigneth,Be so the jugge stonde upriht,He schal be served of his riht.And so ferforth it is befalleThat lawe is come among ous alle:God lieve it mote wel ben holde,As every king therto is holde; 3070For thing which is of kinges set,With kinges oghte it noght be let.What king of lawe takth no kepe,Be lawe he mai no regne kepe.Do lawe awey, what is a king?Wher is the riht of eny thing,If that ther be no lawe in londe?This oghte a king wel understonde,As he which is to lawe swore,That if the lawe be forbore 3080Withouten execucioun,If makth a lond torne up so doun,Which is unto the king a sclandre.Forthi unto king AlisandreThe wise Philosophre bad,That he himselve ferst be ladOf lawe, and forth thanne overalSo do justice in general,That al the wyde lond abouteThe justice of his lawe doute, 3090And thanne schal he stonde in reste.For therto lawe is on the besteAbove alle other erthly thing,To make a liege drede his king.Bot hou a king schal gete him loveToward the hihe god above,And ek among the men in erthe,This nexte point, which is the fertheOf Aristotles lore, it techeth:Wherof who that the Scole secheth, 3100What Policie that it isThe bok reherceth after this.It nedeth noght that I delateThe pris which preised is algate,And hath ben evere and evere schal,Wherof to speke in special,It is the vertu of Pite,Thurgh which the hihe magesteWas stered, whan his Sone alyhte,And in pite the world to rihte 3110Tok of the Maide fleissh and blod.Pite was cause of thilke good,Wherof that we ben alle save:Wel oghte a man Pite to haveAnd the vertu to sette in pris,Whan he himself which is al wysHath schewed why it schal be preised.Pite may noght be conterpeisedOf tirannie with no peis;For Pite makth a king courteis 3120Bothe in his word and in his dede.It sit wel every liege dredeHis king and to his heste obeie,And riht so be the same weieIt sit a king to be pitousToward his poeple and graciousUpon the reule of governance,So that he worche no vengance,Which mai be cleped crualte.Justice which doth equite 3130Is dredfull, for he noman spareth;Bot in the lond wher Pite farethThe king mai nevere faile of love,For Pite thurgh the grace above,So as the Philosphre affermeth,His regne in good astat confermeth.Thus seide whilom Constantin:“What Emperour that is enclinTo Pite forto be servant,Of al the worldes remenant 3140He is worthi to ben a lord.”In olde bokes of recordThis finde I write of essamplaire:Troian the worthi debonaire,Be whom that Rome stod governed,Upon a time as he was lernedOf that he was to familier,He seide unto that conseiller,That forto ben an EmperourHis will was noght for vein honour, 3150Ne yit for reddour of justice;Bot if he myhte in his officeHise lordes and his poeple plese,Him thoghte it were a grettere eseWith love here hertes to him drawe,Than with the drede of eny lawe.For whan a thing is do for doute,Fulofte it comth the worse aboute;Bot wher a king is Pietous,He is the more gracious, 3160That mochel thrift him schal betyde,Which elles scholde torne aside.Of Pite forto speke plein,Which is with mercy wel besein,Fulofte he wole himselve peineTo kepe an other fro the peine:For Charite the moder isOf Pite, which nothing amisCan soffre, if he it mai amende.It sit to every man livende 3170To be Pitous, bot non so welAs to a king, which on the whielFortune hath set aboven alle:For in a king, if so befalleThat his Pite be ferme and stable,To al the lond it is vailableOnly thurgh grace of his persone;For the Pite of him al oneMai al the large realme save.So sit it wel a king to have 3180Pite; for this Valeire tolde,And seide hou that be daies oldeCodrus, which was in his degreKing of Athenis the cite,A werre he hadde ayein Dorrence:And forto take his evidenceWhat schal befalle of the bataille,He thoghte he wolde him ferst consailleWith Appollo, in whom he triste;Thurgh whos ansuere this he wiste, 3190Of tuo pointz that he myhte chese,Or that he wolde his body leseAnd in bataille himselve deie,Or elles the seconde weie,To sen his poeple desconfit.Bot he, which Pite hath parfitUpon the point of his believe,The poeple thoghte to relieve,And ches himselve to be ded.Wher is nou such an other hed, 3200Which wolde for the lemes dye?And natheles in som partieIt oghte a kinges herte stere,That he hise liege men forbere.And ek toward hise enemisFulofte he may deserve pris,To take of Pite remembrance,Wher that he myhte do vengance:For whanne a king hath the victoire,And thanne he drawe into memoire 3210To do Pite in stede of wreche,He mai noght faile of thilke specheWherof arist the worldes fame,To yive a Prince a worthi name.I rede hou whilom that Pompeie,To whom that Rome moste obeie,A werre hadde in jeupartieAyein the king of Ermenie,Which of long time him hadde grieved.Bot ate laste it was achieved 3220That he this king desconfit hadde,And forth with him to Rome laddeAs Prisoner, wher many a dayIn sori plit and povere he lay,The corone of his heved deposed,Withinne walles faste enclosed;And with ful gret humiliteHe soffreth his adversite.Pompeie sih his pacienceAnd tok pite with conscience, 3230So that upon his hihe deisTofore al Rome in his Paleis,As he that wolde upon him rewe,Let yive him his corone neweAnd his astat al full and pleinRestoreth of his regne ayein,And seide it was more goodly thingTo make than undon a king,To him which pouer hadde of bothe.Thus thei, that weren longe wrothe, 3240Acorden hem to final pes;And yit justice nathelesWas kept and in nothing offended;Wherof Pompeie was comended.Ther mai no king himself excuse,Bot if justice he kepe and use,Which for teschuie crualteHe mot attempre with Pite.Of crualte the felonieEngendred is of tirannie, 3250Ayein the whos condicionGod is himself the champion,Whos strengthe mai noman withstonde.For evere yit it hath so stonde,That god a tirant overladde;Bot wher Pite the regne ladde,Ther mihte no fortune lasteWhich was grevous, bot ate lasteThe god himself it hath redresced.Pite is thilke vertu blessed 3260Which nevere let his Maister falle;Bot crualte, thogh it so falleThat it mai regne for a throwe,God wole it schal ben overthrowe:Wherof ensamples ben ynowheOf hem that thilke merel drowhe.Of crualte I rede thus:Whan the tirant LeonciusWas to thempire of Rome arrived,Fro which he hath with strengthe prived 3270The pietous Justinian,As he which was a cruel man,His nase of and his lippes botheHe kutte, for he wolde him lotheUnto the poeple and make unable.Bot he which is al merciable,The hihe god, ordeigneth so,That he withinne a time also,Whan he was strengest in his ire,Was schoven out of his empire. 3280Tiberius the pouer hadde,And Rome after his will he ladde,And for Leonce in such a wiseOrdeigneth, that he tok juiseOf nase and lippes bothe tuo,For that he dede an other so,Which more worthi was than he.Lo, which a fall hath crualte,And Pite was set up ayein:For after that the bokes sein, 3290Therbellis king of BulgarieWith helpe of his chivalerieJustinian hath unprisonedAnd to thempire ayein coroned.In a Cronique I finde alsoOf Siculus, which was ek soA cruel king lich the tempeste,The whom no Pite myhte areste,—He was the ferste, as bokes seie,Upon the See which fond Galeie 3300And let hem make for the werre,—As he which al was out of herreFro Pite and misericorde;For therto couthe he noght acorde,Bot whom he myhte slen, he slouh,And therof was he glad ynouh.He hadde of conseil manyon,Among the whiche ther was on,Be name which Berillus hihte;And he bethoghte him hou he myhte 3310Unto the tirant do likinge,And of his oghne ymaginyngeLet forge and make a Bole of bras,And on the side cast ther wasA Dore, wher a man mai inne,Whan he his peine schal beginneThurgh fyr, which that men putten under.And al this dede he for a wonder,That whanne a man for peine cride,The Bole of bras, which gapeth wyde, 3320It scholde seme as thogh it wereA belwinge in a mannes Ere,And noght the criinge of a man.Bot he which alle sleihtes can,The devel, that lith in helle fast,Him that this caste hath overcast,That for a trespas which he dedeHe was putt in the same stede,And was himself the ferste of alleWhich was into that peine falle 3330That he for othre men ordeigneth;Ther was noman which him compleigneth.Of tirannie and crualteBe this ensample a king mai se,Himself and ek his conseil bothe,Hou thei ben to mankinde lotheAnd to the god abhominable.Ensamples that ben concordableI finde of othre Princes mo,As thou schalt hiere, of time go. 3340The grete tirant Dionys,Which mannes lif sette of no pris,Unto his hors fulofte he yafThe men in stede of corn and chaf,So that the hors of thilke stodDevoureden the mennes blod;Til fortune ate laste cam,That Hercules him overcam,And he riht in the same wiseOf this tirant tok the juise: 3350As he til othre men hath do,The same deth he deide also,That no Pite him hath socoured,Til he was of hise hors devoured.Of Lichaon also I findeHou he ayein the lawe of kindeHise hostes slouh, and into meteHe made her bodies to ben eteWith othre men withinne his hous.Bot Jupiter the glorious, 3360Which was commoeved of this thing,Vengance upon this cruel kingSo tok, that he fro mannes formeInto a wolf him let transforme:And thus the crualte was kidd,Which of long time he hadde hidd;A wolf he was thanne openly,The whos nature privelyHe hadde in his condicion.And unto this conclusioun, 3370That tirannie is to despise,I finde ensample in sondri wise,And nameliche of hem fulofte,The whom fortune hath set alofteUpon the werres forto winne.Bot hou so that the wrong beginneOf tirannie, it mai noght laste,Bot such as thei don ate lasteTo othre men, such on hem falleth;For ayein suche Pite calleth 3380Vengance to the god above.For who that hath no tender loveIn savinge of a mannes lif,He schal be founde so gultif,That whanne he wolde mercy craveIn time of nede, he schal non have.Of the natures this I finde,The fierce Leon in his kinde,Which goth rampende after his preie,If he a man finde in his weie, 3390He wole him slen, if he withstonde.Bot if the man coude understondeTo falle anon before his faceIn signe of mercy and of grace,The Leon schal of his natureRestreigne his ire in such mesure,As thogh it were a beste tamed,And torne awey halfvinge aschamed,That he the man schal nothing grieve.Hou scholde than a Prince achieve 3400The worldes grace, if that he woldeDestruie a man whanne he is yoldeAnd stant upon his mercy al?Bot forto speke in special,Ther have be suche and yit ther beTirantz, whos hertes no piteMai to no point of mercy plie,That thei upon her tirannieNe gladen hem the men to sle;And as the rages of the See 3410Ben unpitous in the tempeste,Riht so mai no Pite aresteOf crualte the gret oultrage,Which the tirant in his corageEngendred hath: wherof I findeA tale, which comth nou to mynde.I rede in olde bokes thus:Ther was a Duk, which SpertachusMen clepe, and was a werreiour,A cruel man, a conquerour 3420With strong pouer the which he ladde.For this condicion he hadde,That where him hapneth the victoire,His lust and al his moste gloireWas forto sle and noght to save:Of rancoun wolde he no good haveFor savinge of a mannes lif,Bot al goth to the swerd and knyf,So lief him was the mannes blod.And natheles yit thus it stod, 3430So as fortune aboute wente,He fell riht heir as be descenteTo Perse, and was coroned king.And whan the worschipe of this thingWas falle, and he was king of Perse,If that thei weren ferst diverse,The tirannies whiche he wroghte,A thousendfold welmore he soghteThanne afterward to do malice.The god vengance ayein the vice 3440Hath schape: for upon a tyde,Whan he was heihest in his Pride,In his rancour and in his heteAyein the queene of Marsagete,Which Thameris that time hihte,He made werre al that he myhte:And sche, which wolde hir lond defende,Hir oghne Sone ayein him sende,Which the defence hath undertake.Bot he desconfit was and take; 3450And whan this king him hadde in honde,He wol no mercy understonde,Bot dede him slen in his presence.The tidinge of this violenceWhan it cam to the moder Ere,Sche sende anon ay wydewhereTo suche frendes as sche hadde,A gret pouer til that sche ladde.In sondri wise and tho sche casteHou sche this king mai overcaste; 3460And ate laste acorded was,That in the danger of a pass,Thurgh which this tirant scholde passe,Sche schop his pouer to compasseWith strengthe of men be such a weieThat he schal noght eschape aweie.And whan sche hadde thus ordeigned,Sche hath hir oghne bodi feigned,For feere as thogh sche wolde fleeOut of hir lond: and whan that he 3470Hath herd hou that this ladi fledde,So faste after the chace he spedde,That he was founde out of array.For it betidde upon a day,Into the pas whanne he was falle,Thembuisschementz tobrieken alleAnd him beclipte on every side,That fle ne myhte he noght aside:So that ther weren dede and takeTuo hundred thousend for his sake, 3480That weren with him of his host.And thus was leid the grete bostOf him and of his tirannie:It halp no mercy forto crieTo him which whilom dede non;For he unto the queene anonWas broght, and whan that sche him sih,This word sche spak and seide on hih:“O man, which out of mannes kindeReson of man hast left behinde 3490And lived worse than a beste,Whom Pite myhte noght areste,The mannes blod to schede and spilleThou haddest nevere yit thi fille.Bot nou the laste time is come,That thi malice is overcome:As thou til othre men hast do,Nou schal be do to thee riht so.”Tho bad this ladi that men scholdeA vessel bringe, in which sche wolde 3500Se the vengance of his juise,Which sche began anon devise;And tok the Princes whiche he ladde,Be whom his chief conseil he hadde,And whil hem lasteth eny breth,Sche made hem blede to the dethInto the vessel wher it stod:And whan it was fulfild of blod,Sche caste this tirant therinne,And seide him, “Lo, thus myht thou wynne 3510The lustes of thin appetit.In blod was whilom thi delit,Nou schalt thou drinken al thi fille.”And thus onliche of goddes wille,He which that wolde himselve strangeTo Pite, fond mercy so strange,That he withoute grace is lore.So may it schewe wel therforeThat crualte hath no good ende;Bot Pite, hou so that it wende, 3520Makth that the god is merciable,If ther be cause resonableWhy that a king schal be pitous.Bot elles, if he be doubtousTo slen in cause of rihtwisnesse,It mai be said no Pitousnesse,Bot it is Pusillamite,Which every Prince scholde flee.For if Pite mesure excede,Kinghode may noght wel procede 3530To do justice upon the riht:For it belongeth to a knyhtAls gladly forto fihte as reste,To sette his liege poeple in reste,Whan that the werre upon hem falleth;For thanne he mote, as it befalleth,Of his knyhthode as a LeonBe to the poeple a champiounWithouten eny Pite feigned.For if manhode be restreigned, 3540Or be it pes or be it werre,Justice goth al out of herre,So that knyhthode is set behinde.Of Aristotles lore I finde,A king schal make good visage,That noman knowe of his corageBot al honour and worthinesse:For if a king schal upon gesseWithoute verrai cause drede,He mai be lich to that I rede; 3550And thogh that it be lich a fable,Thensample is good and resonable.As it be olde daies fell,I rede whilom that an hellUp in the londes of ArchadeA wonder dredful noise made;For so it fell that ilke day,This hell on his childinge lay,And whan the throwes on him come,His noise lich the day of dome 3560Was ferfull in a mannes thoghtOf thing which that thei sihe noght,Bot wel thei herden al abouteThe noise, of which thei were in doute,As thei that wenden to be loreOf thing which thanne was unbore.The nerr this hell was upon chanceTo taken his deliverance,The more unbuxomliche he cride;And every man was fledd aside, 3570For drede and lefte his oghne hous:And ate laste it was a Mous,The which was bore and to norriceBetake; and tho thei hield hem nyce,For thei withoute cause dradde.Thus if a king his herte laddeWith every thing that he schal hiere,Fulofte he scholde change his chiereAnd upon fantasie drede,Whan that ther is no cause of drede. 3580Orace to his Prince tolde,That him were levere that he woldeUpon knihthode Achillem suieIn time of werre, thanne eschuie,So as Tersites dede at Troie.Achilles al his hole joieSette upon Armes forto fihte;Tersites soghte al that he myhteUnarmed forto stonde in reste:Bot of the tuo it was the beste 3590That Achilles upon the nedeHath do, wherof his knyhtlihiedeIs yit comended overal.King Salomon in specialSeith, as ther is a time of pes,So is a time nathelesOf werre, in which a Prince algateSchal for the comun riht debateAnd for his oghne worschipe eke.Bot it behoveth noght to seke 3600Only the werre for worschipe,Bot to the riht of his lordschipe,Which he is holde to defende,Mote every worthi Prince entende.Betwen the simplesce of PiteAnd the folhaste of crualte,Wher stant the verray hardiesce,Ther mote a king his herte adresce,Whanne it is time to forsake,And whan time is also to take 3610The dedly werres upon honde,That he schal for no drede wonde,If rihtwisnesse be withal.For god is myhty overalTo forthren every mannes trowthe,Bot it be thurgh his oghne slowthe;And namely the kinges nedeIt mai noght faile forto spede,For he stant one for hem alle;So mote it wel the betre falle 3620And wel the more god favoureth,Whan he the comun riht socoureth.And forto se the sothe in dede,Behold the bible and thou myht redeOf grete ensamples manyon,Wherof that I wol tellen on.Upon a time as it befell,Ayein Judee and IrahelWhan sondri kinges come wereIn pourpos to destruie there 3630The poeple which god kepte tho,—And stod in thilke daies so,That Gedeon, which scholde ledeThe goddes folk, tok him to rede,And sende in al the lond aboute,Til he assembled hath a routeWith thritti thousend of defence,To fihte and make resistenceAyein the whiche hem wolde assaille:And natheles that o bataille 3640Of thre that weren enemysWas double mor than was al his;Wherof that Gedeon him dradde,That he so litel poeple hadde.Bot he which alle thing mai helpe,Wher that ther lacketh mannes helpe,To Gedeon his Angel sente,And bad, er that he forther wente,Al openly that he do crieThat every man in his partie 3650Which wolde after his oghne willeIn his delice abide stilleAt hom in eny maner wise,For pourchas or for covoitise,For lust of love or lacke of herte,He scholde noght aboute sterte,Bot holde him stille at hom in pes:Wherof upon the morwe he lesWel twenty thousend men and mo,The whiche after the cri ben go. 3660Thus was with him bot only leftThe thridde part, and yit god eftHis Angel sende and seide thisTo Gedeon: “If it so isThat I thin help schal undertake,Thou schalt yit lasse poeple take,Be whom mi will is that thou spede.Forthi tomorwe tak good hiede,Unto the flod whan ye be come,What man that hath the water nome 3670Up in his hond and lapeth so,To thi part ches out alle tho;And him which wery is to swinke,Upon his wombe and lith to drinke,Forsak and put hem alle aweie.For I am myhti alle weie,Wher as me list myn help to scheweIn goode men, thogh thei ben fewe.”This Gedeon awaiteth wel,Upon the morwe and everydel, 3680As god him bad, riht so he dede.And thus ther leften in that stedeWith him thre hundred and nomo,The remenant was al ago:Wherof that Gedeon merveileth,And therupon with god conseileth,Pleignende as ferforth as he dar.And god, which wolde he were warThat he schal spede upon his riht,Hath bede him go the same nyht 3690And take a man with him, to hiereWhat schal be spoke in his matereAmong the hethen enemis;So mai he be the more wys,What afterward him schal befalle.This Gedeon amonges allePhara, to whom he triste most,Be nyhte tok toward thilke host,Which logged was in a valleie,To hiere what thei wolden seie; 3700Upon his fot and as he ferde,Tuo Sarazins spekende he herde.Quod on, “Ared mi swevene ariht,Which I mette in mi slep to nyht.Me thoghte I sih a barli cake,Which fro the Hull his weie hath take,And cam rollende doun at ones;And as it were for the nones,Forth in his cours so as it ran,The kinges tente of Madian, 3710Of Amalech, of Amoreie,Of Amon and of Jebuseie,And many an other tente moWith gret noise, as me thoghte tho,It threw to grounde and overcaste,And al this host so sore agasteThat I awok for pure drede.”“This swevene can I wel arede,”Quod thother Sarazin anon:“The barli cake is Gedeon, 3720Which fro the hell doun sodeinlySchal come and sette such ascryUpon the kinges and ous bothe,That it schal to ous alle lothe:For in such drede he schal ous bringe,That if we hadden flyht of wynge,The weie on fote in desespeirWe scholden leve and flen in their,For ther schal nothing him withstonde.”Whan Gedeon hath understonde 3730This tale, he thonketh god of al,And priveliche ayein he stal,So that no lif him hath perceived.And thanne he hath fulli conceivedThat he schal spede; and theruponThe nyht suiende he schop to gonThis multitude to assaile.Nou schalt thou hiere a gret mervaile,With what voisdie that he wroghte.The litel poeple which he broghte, 3740Was non of hem that he ne hathA pot of erthe, in which he tathA lyht brennende in a kressette,And ech of hem ek a trompetteBar in his other hond beside;And thus upon the nyhtes tydeDuk Gedeon, whan it was derk,Ordeineth him unto his werk,And parteth thanne his folk in thre,And chargeth hem that thei ne fle, 3750And tawhte hem hou they scholde ascrieAlle in o vois per compaignie,And what word ek thei scholden speke,And hou thei scholde here pottes brekeEchon with other, whan thei herdeThat he himselve ferst so ferde;For whan thei come into the stede,He bad hem do riht as he dede.And thus stalkende forth a pasThis noble Duk, whan time was, 3760His pot tobrak and loude ascride,And tho thei breke on every side.The trompe was noght forto seke;He blew, and so thei blewen ekeWith such a noise among hem alle,As thogh the hevene scholde falle.The hull unto here vois ansuerde,This host in the valleie it herde,And sih hou that the hell alyhte;So what of hieringe and of sihte, 3770Thei cawhten such a sodein feere,That non of hem belefte there:The tentes hole thei forsoke,That thei non other good ne toke,Bot only with here bodi bareThei fledde, as doth the wylde Hare.And evere upon the hull thei blewe,Til that thei sihe time, and kneweThat thei be fled upon the rage;And whan thei wiste here avantage, 3780Thei felle anon unto the chace.Thus myht thou sen hou goddes graceUnto the goode men availeth;But elles ofte time it failethTo suche as be noght wel disposed.This tale nedeth noght be glosed,For it is openliche schewedThat god to hem that ben wel thewedHath yove and granted the victoire:So that thensample of this histoire 3790Is good for every king to holde;Ferst in himself that he beholdeIf he be good of his livinge,And that the folk which he schal bringeBe good also, for thanne he mayBe glad of many a merie day,In what as evere he hath to done.For he which sit above the MoneAnd alle thing mai spille and spede,In every cause, in every nede 3800His goode king so wel adresceth,That alle his fomen he represseth,So that ther mai noman him dere;And als so wel he can forbere,And soffre a wickid king to falleIn hondes of his fomen alle.Nou forthermore if I schal seinOf my matiere, and torne ayeinTo speke of justice and PiteAfter the reule of realte, 3810This mai a king wel understonde,Knihthode mot ben take on honde,Whan that it stant upon the nede:He schal no rihtful cause drede,Nomore of werre thanne of pes,If he wol stonde blameles;For such a cause a king mai haveThat betre him is to sle than save,Wherof thou myht ensample finde.The hihe makere of mankinde 3820Be Samuel to Saul bad,That he schal nothing ben adradAyein king Agag forto fihte;For this the godhede him behihte,That Agag schal ben overcome:And whan it is so ferforth come,That Saul hath him desconfit,The god bad make no respit,That he ne scholde him slen anon.Bot Saul let it overgon 3830And dede noght the goddes heste:For Agag made gret behesteOf rancoun which he wolde yive,King Saul soffreth him to liveAnd feigneth pite forth withal.Bot he which seth and knoweth al,The hihe god, of that he feignethTo Samuel upon him pleigneth,And sende him word, for that he lefteOf Agag that he ne berefte 3840The lif, he schal noght only dyeHimself, bot fro his regalieHe schal be put for everemo,Noght he, bot ek his heir also,That it schal nevere come ayein.Thus myht thou se the sothe plein,That of tomoche and of tolyteUpon the Princes stant the wyte.Bot evere it was a kinges rihtTo do the dedes of a knyht; 3850For in the handes of a kingThe deth and lif is al o thingAfter the lawes of justice.To slen it is a dedly vice,Bot if a man the deth deserve;And if a king the lif preserveOf him which oghte forto dye,He suieth noght thensamplerieWhich in the bible is evident:Hou David in his testament, 3860Whan he no lengere myhte live,Unto his Sone in charge hath yiveThat he Joab schal slen algate;And whan David was gon his gate,The yonge wise SalomonHis fader heste dede anon,And slouh Joab in such a wise,That thei that herden the juiseEvere after dradden him the more,And god was ek wel paid therfore, 3870That he so wolde his herte plyeThe lawes forto justefie.And yit he kepte forth withalPite, so as a Prince schal,That he no tirannie wroghte;He fond the wisdom which he soghte,And was so rihtful natheles,That al his lif he stod in pes,That he no dedly werres hadde,For every man his wisdom dradde. 3880And as he was himselve wys,Riht so the worthi men of prisHe hath of his conseil withholde;For that is every Prince holde,To make of suche his retenueWhiche wise ben, and to remueThe foles: for ther is nothingWhich mai be betre aboute a king,Than conseil, which is the substanceOf all a kinges governance. 3890In Salomon a man mai seeWhat thing of most necessiteUnto a worthi king belongeth.Whan he his kingdom underfongeth,God bad him chese what he wolde,And seide him that he have scholdeWhat he wolde axe, as of o thing.And he, which was a newe king,Forth therupon his bone preideTo god, and in this wise he seide: 3900“O king, be whom that I schal regne,Yif me wisdom, that I my regne,Forth with thi poeple which I have,To thin honour mai kepe and save.”Whan Salomon his bone hath taxed,The god of that which he hath axedWas riht wel paid, and granteth soneNoght al only that he his boneSchal have of that, bot of richesse,Of hele, of pes, of hih noblesse, 3910Forth with wisdom at his axinges,Which stant above alle othre thinges.Bot what king wole his regne save,Ferst him behoveth forto haveAfter the god and his believeSuch conseil which is to believe,Fulfild of trouthe and rihtwisnesse:Bot above alle in his noblesseBetwen the reddour and piteA king schal do such equite 3920And sette the balance in evene,So that the hihe god in heveneAnd al the poeple of his nobleieLoange unto his name seie.For most above all erthli good,Wher that a king himself is goodIt helpeth, for in other weieIf so be that a king forsueie,Fulofte er this it hath be sein,The comun poeple is overlein 3930And hath the kinges Senne aboght,Al thogh the poeple agulte noght.Of that the king his god misserveth,The poeple takth that he descervethHier in this world, bot elleswhereI not hou it schal stonde there.Forthi good is a king to tristeFerst to himself, as he ne wisteNon other help bot god alone;So schal the reule of his persone 3940Withinne himself thurgh providenceBen of the betre conscience.And forto finde ensample of this,A tale I rede, and soth it is.In a Cronique it telleth thus:The king of Rome LuciusWithinne his chambre upon a nyhtThe Steward of his hous, a knyht,Forth with his Chamberlein also,To conseil hadde bothe tuo, 3950And stoden be the ChimineeTogedre spekende alle thre.And happeth that the kinges folSat be the fyr upon a stol,As he that with his babil pleide,Bot yit he herde al that thei seide,And therof token thei non hiede.The king hem axeth what to redeOf such matiere as cam to mouthe,And thei him tolden as thei couthe. 3960Whan al was spoke of that thei mente,The king with al his hole ententeThanne ate laste hem axeth this,What king men tellen that he is:Among the folk touchende his name,Or be it pris, or be it blame,Riht after that thei herden sein,He bad hem forto telle it plein,That thei no point of soth forbere,Be thilke feith that thei him bere. 3970The Steward ferst upon this thingYaf his ansuere unto the kingAnd thoghte glose in this matiere,And seide, als fer as he can hiere,His name is good and honourable:Thus was the Stieward favorable,That he the trouthe plein ne tolde.The king thanne axeth, as he scholde,The Chamberlein of his avis.And he, that was soubtil and wys, 3980And somdiel thoghte upon his feith,Him tolde hou al the poeple seithThat if his conseil were trewe,Thei wiste thanne wel and kneweThat of himself he scholde beA worthi king in his degre:And thus the conseil he accusethIn partie, and the king excuseth.The fol, which herde of al the casThat time, as goddes wille was, 3990Sih that thei seiden noght ynowh,And hem to skorne bothe lowh,And to the king he seide tho:“Sire king, if that it were so,Of wisdom in thin oghne modThat thou thiselven were good,Thi conseil scholde noght be badde.”The king therof merveille hadde,Whan that a fol so wisly spak,And of himself fond out the lack 4000Withinne his oghne conscience:And thus the foles evidence,Which was of goddes grace enspired,Makth that good conseil was desired.He putte awey the viciousAnd tok to him the vertuous;The wrongful lawes ben amended,The londes good is wel despended,The poeple was nomore oppressed,And thus stod every thing redressed. 4010For where a king is propre wys,And hath suche as himselven isOf his conseil, it mai noght faileThat every thing ne schal availe:The vices thanne gon aweie,And every vertu holt his weie;Wherof the hihe god is plesed,And al the londes folk is esed.For if the comun poeple crie,And thanne a king list noght to plie 4020To hiere what the clamour wolde,And otherwise thanne he scholdeDesdeigneth forto don hem grace,It hath be sen in many place,Ther hath befalle gret contraire;And that I finde of ensamplaire.After the deth of Salomon,Whan thilke wise king was gon,And Roboas in his personeReceive scholde the corone, 4030The poeple upon a ParlementAvised were of on assent,And alle unto the king thei preiden,With comun vois and thus thei seiden:“Oure liege lord, we thee besecheThat thou receive oure humble specheAnd grante ous that which reson wile,Or of thi grace or of thi skile.Thi fader, whil he was alyveAnd myhte bothe grante and pryve, 4040Upon the werkes whiche he haddeThe comun poeple streite ladde:Whan he the temple made newe,Thing which men nevere afore kneweHe broghte up thanne of his taillage,And al was under the visageOf werkes whiche he made tho.Bot nou it is befalle so,That al is mad, riht as he seide,And he was riche whan he deide; 4050So that it is no maner nede,If thou therof wolt taken hiede,To pilen of the poeple more,Which long time hath be grieved sore.And in this wise as we thee seie,With tendre herte we thee preieThat thou relesse thilke dette,Which upon ous thi fader sette.And if thee like to don so,We ben thi men for everemo, 4060To gon and comen at thin heste.”The king, which herde this requeste,Seith that he wole ben avised,And hath therof a time assised;And in the while as he him thoghteUpon this thing, conseil he soghte.And ferst the wise knyhtes olde,To whom that he his tale tolde,Conseilen him in this manere;That he with love and with glad chiere 4070Foryive and grante al that is axedOf that his fader hadde taxed;For so he mai his regne achieveWith thing which schal him litel grieve.The king hem herde and overpasseth,And with these othre his wit compasseth,That yonge were and nothing wise.And thei these olde men despise,And seiden: “Sire, it schal be schameFor evere unto thi worthi name, 4080If thou ne kepe noght the riht,Whil thou art in thi yonge myht,Which that thin olde fader gat.Bot seie unto the poeple plat,That whil thou livest in thi lond,The leste finger of thin hondIt schal be strengere overalThan was thi fadres bodi al.And this also schal be thi tale,If he hem smot with roddes smale, 4090With Scorpions thou schalt hem smyte;And wher thi fader tok a lyte,Thou thenkst to take mochel more.Thus schalt thou make hem drede soreThe grete herte of thi corage,So forto holde hem in servage.This yonge king him hath conformedTo don as he was last enformed,Which was to him his undoinge:For whan it cam to the spekinge, 4100He hath the yonge conseil holde,That he the same wordes toldeOf al the poeple in audience;And whan thei herden the sentenceOf his malice and the manace,Anon tofore his oghne faceThei have him oultreli refusedAnd with ful gret reproef accused.So thei begunne forto rave,That he was fain himself to save; 4110For as the wilde wode rageOf wyndes makth the See salvage,And that was calm bringth into wawe,So for defalte of grace and laweThis poeple is stered al at onesAnd forth thei gon out of hise wones;So that of the lignages tuelveTuo tribes only be hemselveWith him abiden and nomo:So were thei for everemo 4120Of no retorn withoute espeirDeparted fro the rihtfull heir.Al Irahel with comun voisA king upon here oghne choisAmong hemself anon thei make,And have here yonge lord forsake;A povere knyht JeroboasThei toke, and lefte Roboas,Which rihtfull heir was be descente.Lo, thus the yonge cause wente: 4130For that the conseil was noght good,The regne fro the rihtfull blodEvere afterward divided was.So mai it proven be this casThat yong conseil, which is to warm,Er men be war doth ofte harm.Old age for the conseil serveth,And lusti youthe his thonk deservethUpon the travail which he doth;And bothe, forto seie a soth, 4140Be sondri cause forto have,If that he wole his regne save,A king behoveth every day.That on can and that other mai,Be so the king hem bothe reule,For elles al goth out of reule.
In Rome, to poursuie his riht,Ther was a worthi povere kniht,Which cam al one forto seinHis cause, when the court was plein,Wher Julius was in presence.And for him lacketh of despence,Ther was with him non advocatTo make ple for his astat.Bot thogh him lacke forto plede,Him lacketh nothing of manhede; 2070He wiste wel his pours was povere,Bot yit he thoghte his riht recovere,And openly poverte alleide,To themperour and thus he seide:“O Julius, lord of the lawe,Behold, mi conseil is withdraweFor lacke of gold: do thin officeAfter the lawes of justice:Help that I hadde conseil hiereUpon the trouthe of mi matiere.” 2080And Julius with that anonAssigned him a worthi on,Bot he himself no word ne spak.This kniht was wroth and fond a lakIn themperour, and seide thus:“O thou unkinde Julius,Whan thou in thi bataille wereUp in Aufrique, and I was there,Mi myht for thi rescousse I dedeAnd putte noman in my stede, 2090Thou wost what woundes ther I hadde:Bot hier I finde thee so badde,That thee ne liste speke o wordThin oghne mouth, nor of thin hordTo yive a florin me to helpe.Hou scholde I thanne me beyelpeFro this dai forth of thi largesse,Whan such a gret unkindenesseIs founde in such a lord as thou?”
This Julius knew wel ynou 2100That al was soth which he him tolde;And for he wolde noght ben holdeUnkinde, he tok his cause on honde,And as it were of goddes sonde,He yaf him good ynouh to spendeFor evere into his lives ende.And thus scholde every worthi kingTake of his knihtes knowleching,Whan that he syh thei hadden nede,For every service axeth mede: 2110Bot othre, which have noght deservedThurgh vertu, bot of japes served,A king schal noght deserve grace,Thogh he be large in such a place.
It sit wel every king to haveDiscrecion, whan men him crave,So that he mai his yifte wite:Wherof I finde a tale write,Hou Cinichus a povere knihtA Somme which was over myht 2120Preide of his king Antigonus.The king ansuerde to him thus,And seide hou such a yifte passethHis povere astat: and thanne he lasseth,And axeth bot a litel peny,If that the king wol yive him eny.The king ansuerde, it was to smalFor him, which was a lord real;To yive a man so litel thingIt were unworschipe in a king. 2130
Be this ensample a king mai lereThat forto yive is in manere:For if a king his tresor lassethWithoute honour and thonkles passeth,Whan he himself wol so beguile,I not who schal compleigne his while,Ne who be rihte him schal relieve.Bot natheles this I believe,To helpe with his oghne londBehoveth every man his hond 2140To sette upon necessite;And ek his kinges realteMot every liege man conforte,With good and bodi to supporte,Whan thei se cause resonable:For who that is noght entendableTo holde upriht his kinges name,Him oghte forto be to blame.
Of Policie and overmoreTo speke in this matiere more, 2150So as the Philosophre tolde,A king after the reule is holdeTo modifie and to adresceHise yiftes upon such largesceThat he mesure noght excede:For if a king falle into nede,It causeth ofte sondri thingesWhiche are ungoodly to the kinges.What man wol noght himself mesure,Men sen fulofte that mesure 2160Him hath forsake: and so doth heThat useth Prodegalite,Which is the moder of poverte,Wherof the londes ben deserte;And namely whan thilke viceAboute a king stant in officeAnd hath withholde of his partieThe covoitouse flaterie,Which many a worthi king deceiveth,Er he the fallas aperceiveth 2170Of hem that serven to the glose.For thei that cunnen plese and glose,Ben, as men tellen, the norricesUnto the fostringe of the vices,Wherof fulofte nathelesA king is blamed gulteles.
A Philosophre, as thou schalt hiere,Spak to a king of this matiere,And seide him wel hou that flatoursCoupable were of thre errours. 2180On was toward the goddes hihe,That weren wrothe of that thei siheThe meschief which befalle scholdeOf that the false flatour tolde.Toward the king an other was,Whan thei be sleihte and be fallasOf feigned wordes make him weneThat blak is whyt and blew is greneTouchende of his condicion:For whanne he doth extorcion 2190With manye an other vice mo,Men schal noght finden on of thoTo groucche or speke therayein,Bot holden up his oil and seinThat al is wel, what evere he doth;And thus of fals thei maken soth,So that here kinges yhe is blentAnd wot not hou the world is went.The thridde errour is harm comune,With which the poeple mot commune 2200Of wronges that thei bringen inne:And thus thei worchen treble sinne,That ben flatours aboute a king.Ther myhte be no worse thingAboute a kinges regalie,Thanne is the vice of flaterie.
And natheles it hath ben used,That it was nevere yit refusedAs forto speke in court real;For there it is most special, 2210And mai noght longe be forbore.Bot whan this vice of hem is bore,That scholden the vertus forthbringe,And trouthe is torned to lesinge,It is, as who seith, ayein kinde,Wherof an old ensample I finde.
Among these othre tales wiseOf Philosophres, in this wiseI rede, how whilom tuo ther were,And to the Scole forto lere 2220Unto Athenes fro CartageHere frendes, whan thei were of Age,Hem sende; and ther thei stoden longe,Til thei such lore have underfonge,That in here time thei surmonteAlle othre men, that to acompteOf hem was tho the grete fame.The ferste of hem his rihte nameWas Diogenes thanne hote,In whom was founde no riote: 2230His felaw Arisippus hyhte,Which mochel couthe and mochel myhte.Bot ate laste, soth to sein,Thei bothe tornen hom ayeinUnto Cartage and scole lete.This Diogenes no beyeteOf worldes good or lasse or moreNe soghte for his longe lore,Bot tok him only forto duelleAt hom; and as the bokes telle, 2240His hous was nyh to the rivereBesyde a bregge, as thou schalt hiere.Ther duelleth he to take his reste,So as it thoghte him for the beste,To studie in his Philosophie,As he which wolde so defieThe worldes pompe on every syde.
Bot Arisippe his bok asideHath leid, and to the court he wente,Wher many a wyle and many a wente 2250With flaterie and wordes softeHe caste, and hath compassed ofteHou he his Prince myhte plese;And in this wise he gat him eseOf vein honour and worldes good.The londes reule upon him stod,The king of him was wonder glad,And all was do, what thing he bad,Bothe in the court and ek withoute.With flaterie he broghte aboute 2260His pourpos of the worldes werk,Which was ayein the stat of clerk,So that Philosophie he lefteAnd to richesse himself uplefte:Lo, thus hadde Arisippe his wille.
Bot Diogenes duelte stilleA home and loked on his bok:He soghte noght the worldes crokFor vein honour ne for richesse,Bot all his hertes besinesse 2270He sette to be vertuous;And thus withinne his oghne housHe liveth to the sufficanceOf his havinge. And fell per chance,This Diogene upon a day,And that was in the Monthe of May,Whan that these herbes ben holsome,He walketh forto gadre someIn his gardin, of whiche his joutesHe thoghte have, and thus aboutes 2280Whanne he hath gadred what him liketh,He satte him thanne doun and pyketh,And wyssh his herbes in the flodUpon the which his gardin stod,Nyh to the bregge, as I tolde er.And hapneth, whil he sitteth ther,Cam Arisippes be the streteWith manye hors and routes grete,And straght unto the bregge he rod.Wher that he hoved and abod; 2290For as he caste his yhe nyh,His felaw Diogene he syh,And what he dede he syh also,Wherof he seide to him so:
“O Diogene, god thee spede.It were certes litel nedeTo sitte there and wortes pyke,If thou thi Prince couthest lyke,So as I can in my degre.”
“O Arisippe,” ayein quod he, 2300“If that thou couthist, so as I,Thi wortes pyke, trewelyIt were als litel nede or lasse,That thou so worldly wolt compasseWith flaterie forto serve,Wherof thou thenkest to deserveThi princes thonk, and to pourchaceHou thou myht stonden in his grace,For getinge of a litel good.If thou wolt take into thi mod 2310Reson, thou myht be reson deemeThat so thi prince forto queemeIs noght to reson acordant,Bot it is gretly descordantUnto the Scoles of Athene.”Lo, thus ansuerde DiogeneAyein the clerkes flaterie.
Bot yit men sen thessamplerieOf Arisippe is wel received,And thilke of Diogene is weyved. 2320Office in court and gold in cofreIs nou, men sein, the philosophreWhich hath the worschipe in the halle;Bot flaterie passeth alleIn chambre, whom the court avanceth;For upon thilke lot it chancethTo be beloved nou aday.I not if it be ye or nay,Bot as the comun vois it telleth;Bot wher that flaterie duelleth 2330In eny lond under the Sonne,Ther is ful many a thing begonneWhich were betre to be left;That hath be schewed nou and eft.
Bot if a Prince wolde him reuleOf the Romeins after the reule,In thilke time as it was used,This vice scholde be refused,Wherof the Princes ben assoted.Bot wher the pleine trouthe is noted, 2340Ther may a Prince wel conceive,That he schal noght himself deceive,Of that he hiereth wordes pleine;For him thar noght be reson pleigne,That warned is er him be wo.And that was fully proeved tho,Whan Rome was the worldes chief,The Sothseiere tho was lief,Which wolde noght the trouthe spare,Bot with hise wordes pleine and bare 2350To Themperour hise sothes tolde,As in Cronique is yit withholde,Hierafterward as thou schalt hiereAcordende unto this matiere.
To se this olde ensamplerie,That whilom was no flaterieToward the Princes wel I finde;Wherof so as it comth to mynde,Mi Sone, a tale unto thin Ere,Whil that the worthi princes were 2360At Rome, I thenke forto tellen.For whan the chances so befellenThat eny Emperour as thoVictoire hadde upon his fo,And so forth cam to Rome ayein,Of treble honour he was certein,Wherof that he was magnefied.The ferste, as it is specefied,Was, whan he cam at thilke tyde,The Charr in which he scholde ryde 2370Foure whyte Stiedes scholden drawe;Of Jupiter be thilke laweThe Cote he scholde were also;Hise prisoners ek scholden goEndlong the Charr on eyther hond,And alle the nobles of the londTofore and after with him comeRidende and broghten him to Rome,In thonk of his chivalerieAnd for non other flaterie. 2380And that was schewed forth withal;Wher he sat in his Charr real,Beside him was a Ribald set,Which hadde hise wordes so beset,To themperour in al his gloireHe seide, “Tak into memoire,For al this pompe and al this prideLet no justice gon aside,Bot know thiself, what so befalle.For men sen ofte time falle 2390Thing which men wende siker stonde:Thogh thou victoire have nou on honde,Fortune mai noght stonde alway;The whiel per chance an other dayMai torne, and thou myht overthrowe;Ther lasteth nothing bot a throwe.”
With these wordes and with moThis Ribald, which sat with him tho,To Themperour his tale tolde:And overmor what evere he wolde, 2400Or were it evel or were it good,So pleinly as the trouthe stod,He spareth noght, bot spekth it oute;And so myhte every man abouteThe day of that solempneteHis tale telle als wel as heTo Themperour al openly.And al was this the cause why;That whil he stod in that noblesse,He scholde his vanite represse 2410With suche wordes as he herde.
Lo nou, hou thilke time it ferdeToward so hih a worthi lord:For this I finde ek of record,Which the Cronique hath auctorized.What Emperour was entronized,The ferste day of his corone,Wher he was in his real ThroneAnd hield his feste in the paleisSittende upon his hihe deis 2420With al the lust that mai be gete,Whan he was gladdest at his mete,And every menstral hadde pleid,And every Disour hadde seidWhat most was plesant to his Ere,Than ate laste comen thereHise Macons, for thei scholden craveWher that he wolde be begrave,And of what Ston his sepultureThei scholden make, and what sculpture 2430He wolde ordeine therupon.
Tho was ther flaterie nonThe worthi princes to bejape;The thing was other wise schapeWith good conseil; and otherwiseThei were hemselven thanne wise,And understoden wel and knewen.Whan suche softe wyndes blewenOf flaterie into here Ere,Thei setten noght here hertes there; 2440Bot whan thei herden wordes feigned,The pleine trouthe it hath desdeignedOf hem that weren so discrete.So tok the flatour no beyeteOf him that was his prince tho:And forto proven it is so,A tale which befell in dedeIn a Cronique of Rome I rede.
Cesar upon his real throneWher that he sat in his persone 2450And was hyest in al his pris,A man, which wolde make him wys,Fell doun knelende in his presence,And dede him such a reverence,As thogh the hihe god it were:Men hadden gret mervaille thereOf the worschipe which he dede.This man aros fro thilke stede,And forth with al the same tydeHe goth him up and be his side 2460He set him doun as pier and pier,And seide, “If thou that sittest hierArt god, which alle thinges myht,Thanne have I do worshipe arihtAs to the god; and other wise,If thou be noght of thilke assisse,Bot art a man such as am I,Than mai I sitte faste by,For we be bothen of o kinde.”
Cesar ansuerde and seide, “O blinde, 2470Thou art a fol, it is wel seneUpon thiself: for if thou weneI be a god, thou dost amysTo sitte wher thou sest god is;And if I be a man, alsoThou hast a gret folie do,Whan thou to such on as schal deieThe worschipe of thi god aweieHast yoven so unworthely.Thus mai I prove redely, 2480Thou art noght wys.” And thei that herdeHou wysly that the king ansuerde,It was to hem a newe lore;Wherof thei dradden him the more,And broghten nothing to his Ere,Bot if it trouthe and reson were.So be ther manye, in such a wiseThat feignen wordes to be wise,And al is verray flaterieTo him which can it wel aspie. 2490
The kinde flatour can noght loveBot forto bringe himself above;For hou that evere his maister fare,So that himself stonde out of care,Him reccheth noght: and thus fulofteDeceived ben with wordes softeThe kinges that ben innocent.Wherof as for chastiementThe wise Philosophre seide,What king that so his tresor leide 2500Upon such folk, he hath the lesse,And yit ne doth he no largesse,Bot harmeth with his oghne hondHimself and ek his oghne lond,And that be many a sondri weie.Wherof if that a man schal seie,As forto speke in general,Wher such thing falleth overalThat eny king himself misreule,The Philosophre upon his reule 2510In special a cause sette,Which is and evere hath be the letteIn governance aboute a kingUpon the meschief of the thing,And that, he seith, is Flaterie.Wherof tofore as in partieWhat vice it is I have declared;For who that hath his wit bewaredUpon a flatour to believe,Whan that he weneth best achieve 2520His goode world, it is most fro.And forto proeven it is soEnsamples ther ben manyon,Of whiche if thou wolt knowen on,It is behovely forto hiereWhat whilom fell in this matiere.
Among the kinges in the bibleI finde a tale, and is credible,Of him that whilom Achab hihte,Which hadde al Irahel to rihte; 2530Bot who that couthe glose softeAnd flatre, suche he sette alofteIn gret astat and made hem riche;Bot thei that spieken wordes licheTo trouthe and wolde it noght forbere,For hem was non astat to bere,The court of suche tok non hiede.Til ate laste upon a nede,That Benedab king of SurieOf Irahel a gret partie, 2540Which Ramoth Galaath was hote,Hath sesed; and of that rioteHe tok conseil in sondri wise,Bot noght of hem that weren wise.And natheles upon this casTo strengthen him, for Josaphas,Which thanne was king of Judee,He sende forto come, as heWhich thurgh frendschipe and allianceWas next to him of aqueintance; 2550For Joram Sone of JosaphathAchabbes dowhter wedded hath,Which hihte faire Godelie.And thus cam into SamarieKing Josaphat, and he fond thereThe king Achab: and whan thei wereTogedre spekende of this thing,This Josaphat seith to the king,Hou that he wolde gladly hiereSom trew prophete in this matiere, 2560That he his conseil myhte yiveTo what point that it schal be drive.
And in that time so befell,Ther was such on in Irahel,Which sette him al to flaterie,And he was cleped Sedechie;And after him Achab hath sent:And he at his comandementTofore him cam, and be a sleyhteHe hath upon his heved on heyhte 2570Tuo large hornes set of bras,As he which al a flatour was,And goth rampende as a leounAnd caste hise hornes up and doun,And bad men ben of good espeir,For as the hornes percen their,He seith, withoute resistence,So wiste he wel of his scienceThat Benedab is desconfit.Whan Sedechie upon this plit 2580Hath told this tale to his lord,Anon ther were of his acordProphetes false manye moTo bere up oil, and alle thoAffermen that which he hath told,Wherof the king Achab was boldAnd yaf hem yiftes al aboute.But Josaphat was in gret doute,And hield fantosme al that he herde,Preiende Achab, hou so it ferde, 2590If ther were eny other man,The which of prophecie can,To hiere him speke er that thei gon.Quod Achab thanne, “Ther is on,A brothell, which Micheas hihte;Bot he ne comth noght in my sihte,For he hath longe in prison lein.Him liketh nevere yit to seinA goodly word to mi plesance;And natheles at thin instance 2600He schal come oute, and thanne he maySeie as he seide many day;For yit he seide nevere wel.”Tho Josaphat began somdelTo gladen him in hope of trouthe,And bad withouten eny sloutheThat men him scholden fette anon.And thei that weren for him gon,Whan that thei comen wher he was,Thei tolden unto Micheas 2610The manere hou that SedechieDeclared hath his prophecie;And therupon thei preie him faireThat he wol seie no contraire,Wherof the king mai be desplesed,For so schal every man ben esed,And he mai helpe himselve also.
Micheas upon trouthe thoHis herte sette, and to hem seith,Al that belongeth to his feith 2620And of non other feigned thing,That wol he telle unto his king,Als fer as god hath yove him grace.Thus cam this prophete into placeWher he the kinges wille herde;And he therto anon ansuerde,And seide unto him in this wise:“Mi liege lord, for mi servise,Which trewe hath stonden evere yit,Thou hast me with prisone aquit; 2630Bot for al that I schal noght gloseOf trouthe als fer as I suppose;And as touchende of this bataille,Thou schalt noght of the sothe faile.For if it like thee to hiere,As I am tauht in that matiere,Thou miht it understonde sone;Bot what is afterward to doneAvise thee, for this I sih.I was tofor the throne on hih, 2640Wher al the world me thoghte stod,And there I herde and understodThe vois of god with wordes cliereAxende, and seide in this manere:“In what thing mai I best beguileThe king Achab?” And for a whileUpon this point thei spieken faste.Tho seide a spirit ate laste,“I undertake this emprise.”And god him axeth in what wise. 2650“I schal,” quod he, “deceive and lyeWith flaterende prophecieIn suche mouthes as he lieveth.”And he which alle thing achievethBad him go forth and don riht so.And over this I sih alsoThe noble peple of IrahelDispers as Schep upon an hell,Withoute a kepere unarraied:And as thei wente aboute astraied, 2660I herde a vois unto hem sein,“Goth hom into your hous ayein,Til I for you have betre ordeigned.”
Quod Sedechie, “Thou hast feignedThis tale in angringe of the king.”And in a wraththe upon this thingHe smot Michee upon the cheke;The king him hath rebuked eke,And every man upon him cride:Thus was he schent on every side, 2670Ayein and into prison lad,For so the king himselve bad.The trouthe myhte noght ben herd;Bot afterward as it hath ferd,The dede proveth his entente:Achab to the bataille wente,Wher Benedab for al his ScheldHim slouh, so that upon the feldHis poeple goth aboute astray.Bot god, which alle thinges may, 2680So doth that thei no meschief have;Here king was ded and thei ben save,And hom ayein in goddes pesThei wente, and al was founde lesThat Sedechie hath seid tofore.
So sit it wel a king therforeTo loven hem that trouthe mene;For ate laste it wol be seneThat flaterie is nothing worth.Bot nou to mi matiere forth, 2690As forto speken overmoreAfter the Philosophres lore,The thridde point of PolicieI thenke forto specifie.
What is a lond wher men ben none?What ben the men whiche are al oneWithoute a kinges governance?What is a king in his ligance,Wher that ther is no lawe in londe?What is to take lawe on honde, 2700Bot if the jugges weren trewe?These olde worldes with the neweWho that wol take in evidence,Ther mai he se thexperience,What thing it is to kepe lawe,Thurgh which the wronges ben withdraweAnd rihtwisnesse stant commended,Wherof the regnes ben amended.For wher the lawe mai comuneThe lordes forth with the commune, 2710Ech hath his propre duete;And ek the kinges realteOf bothe his worschipe underfongeth,To his astat as it belongeth,Which of his hihe worthinesseHath to governe rihtwisnesse,As he which schal the lawe guide.And natheles upon som sideHis pouer stant above the lawe,To yive bothe and to withdrawe 2720The forfet of a mannes lif;But thinges whiche are excessifAyein the lawe, he schal noght doFor love ne for hate also.
The myhtes of a king ben grete,Bot yit a worthi king schal leteOf wrong to don, al that he myhte;For he which schal the poeple ryhte,It sit wel to his regalieThat he himself ferst justefie 2730Towardes god in his degre:For his astat is elles freToward alle othre in his persone,Save only to the god al one,Which wol himself a king chastise,Wher that non other mai suffise.So were it good to taken hiedeThat ferst a king his oghne dedeBetwen the vertu and the viceRedresce, and thanne of his justice 2740So sette in evene the balanceTowardes othre in governance,That to the povere and to the richeHise lawes myhten stonde liche,He schal excepte no persone.Bot for he mai noght al him oneIn sondri places do justice,He schal of his real officeWith wys consideracionOrdeigne his deputacion 2750Of suche jugges as ben lerned,So that his poeple be governedBe hem that trewe ben and wise.For if the lawe of covoitiseBe set upon a jugges hond,Wo is the poeple of thilke lond,For wrong mai noght himselven hyde:Bot elles on that other side,If lawe stonde with the riht,The poeple is glad and stant upriht. 2760Wher as the lawe is resonable,The comun poeple stant menable,And if the lawe torne amis,The poeple also mistorned is.
And in ensample of this matiereOf Maximin a man mai hiere,Of Rome which was Emperour,That whanne he made a governourBe weie of substitucionOf Province or of region, 2770He wolde ferst enquere his name,And let it openly proclameWhat man he were, or evel or good.And upon that his name stodEnclin to vertu or to vice,So wolde he sette him in office,Or elles putte him al aweie.Thus hield the lawe his rihte weie,Which fond no let of covoitise:The world stod than upon the wise, 2780As be ensample thou myht rede;And hold it in thi mynde, I rede.
In a Cronique I finde thus,Hou that Gayus Fabricius,Which whilom was Consul of Rome,Be whom the lawes yede and come,Whan the Sampnites to him broghteA somme of gold, and him besoghteTo don hem favour in the lawe,Toward the gold he gan him drawe, 2790Wherof in alle mennes lokA part up in his hond he tok,Which to his mouth in alle hasteHe putte, it forto smelle and taste,And to his yhe and to his Ere,Bot he ne fond no confort there:And thanne he gan it to despise,And tolde unto hem in this wise:“I not what is with gold to thryve,Whan non of all my wittes fyve 2800Fynt savour ne delit therinne.So is it bot a nyce SinneOf gold to ben to covoitous;Bot he is riche and glorious,Which hath in his subjeccionTho men whiche in possessionBen riche of gold, and be this skile;For he mai aldai whan he wile,Or be hem lieve or be hem lothe,Justice don upon hem bothe.” 2810Lo, thus he seide, and with that wordHe threw tofore hem on the bordThe gold out of his hond anon,And seide hem that he wolde non:So that he kepte his liberteTo do justice and equite,Withoute lucre of such richesse.
Ther be nou fewe of suche, I gesse;For it was thilke times used,That every jugge was refused 2820Which was noght frend to comun riht;Bot thei that wolden stonde uprihtFor trouthe only to do justicePreferred were in thilke officeTo deme and jugge commun lawe:Which nou, men sein, is al withdrawe.To sette a lawe and kepe it noghtTher is no comun profit soght;Bot above alle nathelesThe lawe, which is mad for pes, 2830Is good to kepe for the beste,For that set alle men in reste.
The rihtful Emperour ConradeTo kepe pes such lawe made,That non withinne the citeIn destorbance of uniteDorste ones moeven a matiere.For in his time, as thou myht hiere,What point that was for lawe setIt scholde for no gold be let, 2840To what persone that it were.And this broghte in the comun fere,Why every man the lawe dradde,For ther was non which favour hadde.
So as these olde bokes sein,I finde write hou a Romein,Which Consul was of the Pretoire,Whos name was Carmidotoire,He sette a lawe for the pes,That non, bot he be wepneles, 2850Schal come into the conseil hous,And elles as maliciousHe schal ben of the lawe ded.To that statut and to that redAcorden alle it schal be so,For certein cause which was tho:Nou lest what fell therafter sone.This Consul hadde forto done,And was into the feldes ride;And thei him hadden longe abide, 2860That lordes of the conseil were,And for him sende, and he cam thereWith swerd begert, and hath foryete,Til he was in the conseil sete.Was non of hem that made speche,Til he himself it wolde seche,And fond out the defalte himselve;And thanne he seide unto the tuelve,Whiche of the Senat weren wise,“I have deserved the juise, 2870In haste that it were do.”And thei him seiden alle no;For wel thei wiste it was no vice,Whan he ne thoghte no malice,Bot onliche of a litel slouthe:And thus thei leften as for routheTo do justice upon his gilt,For that he scholde noght be spilt.And whanne he sih the maner houThei wolde him save, he made avou 2880With manfull herte, and thus he seide,That Rome scholde nevere abreideHis heires, whan he were of dawe,That here Ancestre brak the lawe.Forthi, er that thei weren war,Forth with the same swerd he barThe statut of his lawe he kepte,So that al Rome his deth bewepte.
In other place also I rede,Wher that a jugge his oghne dede 2890Ne wol noght venge of lawe broke,The king it hath himselven wroke.The grete king which CambisesWas hote, a jugge lawelesHe fond, and into remembranceHe dede upon him such vengance:Out of his skyn he was beflainAl quyk, and in that wise slain,So that his skyn was schape al meete,And nayled on the same seete 2900Wher that his Sone scholde sitte.Avise him, if he wolde flitteThe lawe for the coveitise,Ther sih he redi his juise.
Thus in defalte of other juggeThe king mot otherwhile jugge,To holden up the rihte lawe.And forto speke of tholde dawe,To take ensample of that was tho,I finde a tale write also, 2910Hou that a worthi prince is holdeThe lawes of his lond to holde,Ferst for the hihe goddes sake,And ek for that him is betakeThe poeple forto guide and lede,Which is the charge of his kinghede.
In a Cronique I rede thusOf the rihtful Ligurgius,Which of Athenis Prince was,Hou he the lawe in every cas, 2920Wherof he scholde his poeple reule,Hath set upon so good a reule,In al this world that cite nonOf lawe was so wel begonForth with the trouthe of governance.Ther was among hem no distance,Bot every man hath his encress;Ther was withoute werre pes,Withoute envie love stod;Richesse upon the comun good 2930And noght upon the singulerOrdeigned was, and the pouerOf hem that weren in astatWas sauf: wherof upon debatTher stod nothing, so that in resteMihte every man his herte reste.
And whan this noble rihtful kingSih hou it ferde of al this thing,Wherof the poeple stod in ese,He, which for evere wolde plese 2940The hihe god, whos thonk he soghte,A wonder thing thanne him bethoghte,And schop if that it myhte be,Hou that his lawe in the citeMihte afterward for evere laste.And therupon his wit he casteWhat thing him were best to feigne,That he his pourpos myhte atteigne.
A Parlement and thus he sette,His wisdom wher that he besette 2950In audience of grete and smale,And in this wise he tolde his tale:“God wot, and so ye witen alle,Hierafterward hou so it falle,Yit into now my will hath beTo do justice and equiteIn forthringe of comun profit;Such hath ben evere my delit.Bot of o thing I am beknowe,The which mi will is that ye knowe: 2960The lawe which I tok on honde,Was altogedre of goddes sondeAnd nothing of myn oghne wit;So mot it nede endure yit,And schal do lengere, if ye wile.For I wol telle you the skile;The god Mercurius and no manHe hath me tawht al that I canOf suche lawes as I made,Wherof that ye ben alle glade; 2970It was the god and nothing I,Which dede al this, and nou forthiHe hath comanded of his graceThat I schal come into a placeWhich is forein out in an yle,Wher I mot tarie for a while,With him to speke, as he hath bede.For as he seith, in thilke stedeHe schal me suche thinges telle,That evere, whyl the world schal duelle, 2980Athenis schal the betre fare.Bot ferst, er that I thider fare,For that I wolde that mi laweAmonges you ne be withdraweTher whyles that I schal ben oute,Forthi to setten out of douteBothe you and me, this wol I preie,That ye me wolde assure and seieWith such an oth as I wol take,That ech of you schal undertake 2990Mi lawes forto kepe and holde.”Thei seiden alle that thei wolde,And therupon thei swore here oth,That fro the time that he goth,Til he to hem be come ayein,Thei scholde hise lawes wel and pleinIn every point kepe and fulfille.
Thus hath Ligurgius his wille,And tok his leve and forth he wente.Bot lest nou wel to what entente 3000Of rihtwisnesse he dede so:For after that he was ago,He schop him nevere to be founde;So that Athenis, which was bounde,Nevere after scholde be relessed,Ne thilke goode lawe cessed,Which was for comun profit set.And in this wise he hath it knet;He, which the comun profit soghte,The king, his oghne astat ne roghte; 3010To do profit to the comune,He tok of exil the fortune,And lefte of Prince thilke officeOnly for love and for justice,Thurgh which he thoghte, if that he myhte,For evere after his deth to rihteThe cite which was him betake.Wherof men oghte ensample takeThe goode lawes to avanceWith hem which under governance 3020The lawes have forto kepe;For who that wolde take kepeOf hem that ferst the lawes founde,Als fer as lasteth eny boundeOf lond, here names yit ben knowe:And if it like thee to knoweSome of here names hou thei stonde,Nou herkne and thou schalt understonde.
Of every bienfet the meriteThe god himself it wol aquite; 3030And ek fulofte it falleth so,The world it wole aquite also,Bot that mai noght ben evene liche:The god he yifth the heveneriche,The world yifth only bot a name,Which stant upon the goode fameOf hem that don the goode dede.And in this wise double medeResceiven thei that don wel hiere;Wherof if that thee list to hiere 3040After the fame as it is blowe,Ther myht thou wel the sothe knowe,Hou thilke honeste besinesseOf hem that ferst for rihtwisnesseAmong the men the lawes made,Mai nevere upon this erthe fade.For evere, whil ther is a tunge,Here name schal be rad and sungeAnd holde in the Cronique write;So that the men it scholden wite, 3050To speke good, as thei wel oghten,Of hem that ferst the lawes soghtenIn forthringe of the worldes pes.Unto thebreus was MoisesThe ferste, and to thegipciensMercurius, and to TroiensFerst was Neuma Pompilius,To Athenes LigurgiusYaf ferst the lawe, and to GregoisForoneus hath thilke vois, 3060And Romulus to the Romeins.For suche men that ben vileinsThe lawe in such a wise ordeigneth,That what man to the lawe pleigneth,Be so the jugge stonde upriht,He schal be served of his riht.And so ferforth it is befalleThat lawe is come among ous alle:God lieve it mote wel ben holde,As every king therto is holde; 3070For thing which is of kinges set,With kinges oghte it noght be let.What king of lawe takth no kepe,Be lawe he mai no regne kepe.Do lawe awey, what is a king?Wher is the riht of eny thing,If that ther be no lawe in londe?This oghte a king wel understonde,As he which is to lawe swore,That if the lawe be forbore 3080Withouten execucioun,If makth a lond torne up so doun,Which is unto the king a sclandre.Forthi unto king AlisandreThe wise Philosophre bad,That he himselve ferst be ladOf lawe, and forth thanne overalSo do justice in general,That al the wyde lond abouteThe justice of his lawe doute, 3090And thanne schal he stonde in reste.For therto lawe is on the besteAbove alle other erthly thing,To make a liege drede his king.Bot hou a king schal gete him loveToward the hihe god above,And ek among the men in erthe,This nexte point, which is the fertheOf Aristotles lore, it techeth:Wherof who that the Scole secheth, 3100What Policie that it isThe bok reherceth after this.
It nedeth noght that I delateThe pris which preised is algate,And hath ben evere and evere schal,Wherof to speke in special,It is the vertu of Pite,Thurgh which the hihe magesteWas stered, whan his Sone alyhte,And in pite the world to rihte 3110Tok of the Maide fleissh and blod.Pite was cause of thilke good,Wherof that we ben alle save:Wel oghte a man Pite to haveAnd the vertu to sette in pris,Whan he himself which is al wysHath schewed why it schal be preised.Pite may noght be conterpeisedOf tirannie with no peis;For Pite makth a king courteis 3120Bothe in his word and in his dede.
It sit wel every liege dredeHis king and to his heste obeie,And riht so be the same weieIt sit a king to be pitousToward his poeple and graciousUpon the reule of governance,So that he worche no vengance,Which mai be cleped crualte.Justice which doth equite 3130Is dredfull, for he noman spareth;Bot in the lond wher Pite farethThe king mai nevere faile of love,For Pite thurgh the grace above,So as the Philosphre affermeth,His regne in good astat confermeth.
Thus seide whilom Constantin:“What Emperour that is enclinTo Pite forto be servant,Of al the worldes remenant 3140He is worthi to ben a lord.”
In olde bokes of recordThis finde I write of essamplaire:Troian the worthi debonaire,Be whom that Rome stod governed,Upon a time as he was lernedOf that he was to familier,He seide unto that conseiller,That forto ben an EmperourHis will was noght for vein honour, 3150Ne yit for reddour of justice;Bot if he myhte in his officeHise lordes and his poeple plese,Him thoghte it were a grettere eseWith love here hertes to him drawe,Than with the drede of eny lawe.For whan a thing is do for doute,Fulofte it comth the worse aboute;Bot wher a king is Pietous,He is the more gracious, 3160That mochel thrift him schal betyde,Which elles scholde torne aside.
Of Pite forto speke plein,Which is with mercy wel besein,Fulofte he wole himselve peineTo kepe an other fro the peine:For Charite the moder isOf Pite, which nothing amisCan soffre, if he it mai amende.It sit to every man livende 3170To be Pitous, bot non so welAs to a king, which on the whielFortune hath set aboven alle:For in a king, if so befalleThat his Pite be ferme and stable,To al the lond it is vailableOnly thurgh grace of his persone;For the Pite of him al oneMai al the large realme save.So sit it wel a king to have 3180Pite; for this Valeire tolde,And seide hou that be daies oldeCodrus, which was in his degreKing of Athenis the cite,A werre he hadde ayein Dorrence:And forto take his evidenceWhat schal befalle of the bataille,He thoghte he wolde him ferst consailleWith Appollo, in whom he triste;Thurgh whos ansuere this he wiste, 3190Of tuo pointz that he myhte chese,Or that he wolde his body leseAnd in bataille himselve deie,Or elles the seconde weie,To sen his poeple desconfit.Bot he, which Pite hath parfitUpon the point of his believe,The poeple thoghte to relieve,And ches himselve to be ded.Wher is nou such an other hed, 3200Which wolde for the lemes dye?And natheles in som partieIt oghte a kinges herte stere,That he hise liege men forbere.And ek toward hise enemisFulofte he may deserve pris,To take of Pite remembrance,Wher that he myhte do vengance:For whanne a king hath the victoire,And thanne he drawe into memoire 3210To do Pite in stede of wreche,He mai noght faile of thilke specheWherof arist the worldes fame,To yive a Prince a worthi name.
I rede hou whilom that Pompeie,To whom that Rome moste obeie,A werre hadde in jeupartieAyein the king of Ermenie,Which of long time him hadde grieved.Bot ate laste it was achieved 3220That he this king desconfit hadde,And forth with him to Rome laddeAs Prisoner, wher many a dayIn sori plit and povere he lay,The corone of his heved deposed,Withinne walles faste enclosed;And with ful gret humiliteHe soffreth his adversite.Pompeie sih his pacienceAnd tok pite with conscience, 3230So that upon his hihe deisTofore al Rome in his Paleis,As he that wolde upon him rewe,Let yive him his corone neweAnd his astat al full and pleinRestoreth of his regne ayein,And seide it was more goodly thingTo make than undon a king,To him which pouer hadde of bothe.Thus thei, that weren longe wrothe, 3240Acorden hem to final pes;And yit justice nathelesWas kept and in nothing offended;Wherof Pompeie was comended.Ther mai no king himself excuse,Bot if justice he kepe and use,Which for teschuie crualteHe mot attempre with Pite.
Of crualte the felonieEngendred is of tirannie, 3250Ayein the whos condicionGod is himself the champion,Whos strengthe mai noman withstonde.For evere yit it hath so stonde,That god a tirant overladde;Bot wher Pite the regne ladde,Ther mihte no fortune lasteWhich was grevous, bot ate lasteThe god himself it hath redresced.Pite is thilke vertu blessed 3260Which nevere let his Maister falle;Bot crualte, thogh it so falleThat it mai regne for a throwe,God wole it schal ben overthrowe:Wherof ensamples ben ynowheOf hem that thilke merel drowhe.
Of crualte I rede thus:Whan the tirant LeonciusWas to thempire of Rome arrived,Fro which he hath with strengthe prived 3270The pietous Justinian,As he which was a cruel man,His nase of and his lippes botheHe kutte, for he wolde him lotheUnto the poeple and make unable.Bot he which is al merciable,The hihe god, ordeigneth so,That he withinne a time also,Whan he was strengest in his ire,Was schoven out of his empire. 3280Tiberius the pouer hadde,And Rome after his will he ladde,And for Leonce in such a wiseOrdeigneth, that he tok juiseOf nase and lippes bothe tuo,For that he dede an other so,Which more worthi was than he.
Lo, which a fall hath crualte,And Pite was set up ayein:For after that the bokes sein, 3290Therbellis king of BulgarieWith helpe of his chivalerieJustinian hath unprisonedAnd to thempire ayein coroned.
In a Cronique I finde alsoOf Siculus, which was ek soA cruel king lich the tempeste,The whom no Pite myhte areste,—He was the ferste, as bokes seie,Upon the See which fond Galeie 3300And let hem make for the werre,—As he which al was out of herreFro Pite and misericorde;For therto couthe he noght acorde,Bot whom he myhte slen, he slouh,And therof was he glad ynouh.He hadde of conseil manyon,Among the whiche ther was on,Be name which Berillus hihte;And he bethoghte him hou he myhte 3310Unto the tirant do likinge,And of his oghne ymaginyngeLet forge and make a Bole of bras,And on the side cast ther wasA Dore, wher a man mai inne,Whan he his peine schal beginneThurgh fyr, which that men putten under.And al this dede he for a wonder,That whanne a man for peine cride,The Bole of bras, which gapeth wyde, 3320It scholde seme as thogh it wereA belwinge in a mannes Ere,And noght the criinge of a man.Bot he which alle sleihtes can,The devel, that lith in helle fast,Him that this caste hath overcast,That for a trespas which he dedeHe was putt in the same stede,And was himself the ferste of alleWhich was into that peine falle 3330That he for othre men ordeigneth;Ther was noman which him compleigneth.
Of tirannie and crualteBe this ensample a king mai se,Himself and ek his conseil bothe,Hou thei ben to mankinde lotheAnd to the god abhominable.Ensamples that ben concordableI finde of othre Princes mo,As thou schalt hiere, of time go. 3340The grete tirant Dionys,Which mannes lif sette of no pris,Unto his hors fulofte he yafThe men in stede of corn and chaf,So that the hors of thilke stodDevoureden the mennes blod;Til fortune ate laste cam,That Hercules him overcam,And he riht in the same wiseOf this tirant tok the juise: 3350As he til othre men hath do,The same deth he deide also,That no Pite him hath socoured,Til he was of hise hors devoured.
Of Lichaon also I findeHou he ayein the lawe of kindeHise hostes slouh, and into meteHe made her bodies to ben eteWith othre men withinne his hous.Bot Jupiter the glorious, 3360Which was commoeved of this thing,Vengance upon this cruel kingSo tok, that he fro mannes formeInto a wolf him let transforme:And thus the crualte was kidd,Which of long time he hadde hidd;A wolf he was thanne openly,The whos nature privelyHe hadde in his condicion.
And unto this conclusioun, 3370That tirannie is to despise,I finde ensample in sondri wise,And nameliche of hem fulofte,The whom fortune hath set alofteUpon the werres forto winne.Bot hou so that the wrong beginneOf tirannie, it mai noght laste,Bot such as thei don ate lasteTo othre men, such on hem falleth;For ayein suche Pite calleth 3380Vengance to the god above.For who that hath no tender loveIn savinge of a mannes lif,He schal be founde so gultif,That whanne he wolde mercy craveIn time of nede, he schal non have.
Of the natures this I finde,The fierce Leon in his kinde,Which goth rampende after his preie,If he a man finde in his weie, 3390He wole him slen, if he withstonde.Bot if the man coude understondeTo falle anon before his faceIn signe of mercy and of grace,The Leon schal of his natureRestreigne his ire in such mesure,As thogh it were a beste tamed,And torne awey halfvinge aschamed,That he the man schal nothing grieve.Hou scholde than a Prince achieve 3400The worldes grace, if that he woldeDestruie a man whanne he is yoldeAnd stant upon his mercy al?Bot forto speke in special,Ther have be suche and yit ther beTirantz, whos hertes no piteMai to no point of mercy plie,That thei upon her tirannieNe gladen hem the men to sle;And as the rages of the See 3410Ben unpitous in the tempeste,Riht so mai no Pite aresteOf crualte the gret oultrage,Which the tirant in his corageEngendred hath: wherof I findeA tale, which comth nou to mynde.
I rede in olde bokes thus:Ther was a Duk, which SpertachusMen clepe, and was a werreiour,A cruel man, a conquerour 3420With strong pouer the which he ladde.For this condicion he hadde,That where him hapneth the victoire,His lust and al his moste gloireWas forto sle and noght to save:Of rancoun wolde he no good haveFor savinge of a mannes lif,Bot al goth to the swerd and knyf,So lief him was the mannes blod.And natheles yit thus it stod, 3430So as fortune aboute wente,He fell riht heir as be descenteTo Perse, and was coroned king.And whan the worschipe of this thingWas falle, and he was king of Perse,If that thei weren ferst diverse,The tirannies whiche he wroghte,A thousendfold welmore he soghteThanne afterward to do malice.The god vengance ayein the vice 3440Hath schape: for upon a tyde,Whan he was heihest in his Pride,In his rancour and in his heteAyein the queene of Marsagete,Which Thameris that time hihte,He made werre al that he myhte:And sche, which wolde hir lond defende,Hir oghne Sone ayein him sende,Which the defence hath undertake.Bot he desconfit was and take; 3450And whan this king him hadde in honde,He wol no mercy understonde,Bot dede him slen in his presence.
The tidinge of this violenceWhan it cam to the moder Ere,Sche sende anon ay wydewhereTo suche frendes as sche hadde,A gret pouer til that sche ladde.In sondri wise and tho sche casteHou sche this king mai overcaste; 3460And ate laste acorded was,That in the danger of a pass,Thurgh which this tirant scholde passe,Sche schop his pouer to compasseWith strengthe of men be such a weieThat he schal noght eschape aweie.And whan sche hadde thus ordeigned,Sche hath hir oghne bodi feigned,For feere as thogh sche wolde fleeOut of hir lond: and whan that he 3470Hath herd hou that this ladi fledde,So faste after the chace he spedde,That he was founde out of array.For it betidde upon a day,Into the pas whanne he was falle,Thembuisschementz tobrieken alleAnd him beclipte on every side,That fle ne myhte he noght aside:So that ther weren dede and takeTuo hundred thousend for his sake, 3480That weren with him of his host.And thus was leid the grete bostOf him and of his tirannie:It halp no mercy forto crieTo him which whilom dede non;For he unto the queene anonWas broght, and whan that sche him sih,This word sche spak and seide on hih:“O man, which out of mannes kindeReson of man hast left behinde 3490And lived worse than a beste,Whom Pite myhte noght areste,The mannes blod to schede and spilleThou haddest nevere yit thi fille.Bot nou the laste time is come,That thi malice is overcome:As thou til othre men hast do,Nou schal be do to thee riht so.”Tho bad this ladi that men scholdeA vessel bringe, in which sche wolde 3500Se the vengance of his juise,Which sche began anon devise;And tok the Princes whiche he ladde,Be whom his chief conseil he hadde,And whil hem lasteth eny breth,Sche made hem blede to the dethInto the vessel wher it stod:And whan it was fulfild of blod,Sche caste this tirant therinne,And seide him, “Lo, thus myht thou wynne 3510The lustes of thin appetit.In blod was whilom thi delit,Nou schalt thou drinken al thi fille.”
And thus onliche of goddes wille,He which that wolde himselve strangeTo Pite, fond mercy so strange,That he withoute grace is lore.So may it schewe wel therforeThat crualte hath no good ende;Bot Pite, hou so that it wende, 3520Makth that the god is merciable,If ther be cause resonableWhy that a king schal be pitous.Bot elles, if he be doubtousTo slen in cause of rihtwisnesse,It mai be said no Pitousnesse,Bot it is Pusillamite,Which every Prince scholde flee.For if Pite mesure excede,Kinghode may noght wel procede 3530To do justice upon the riht:For it belongeth to a knyhtAls gladly forto fihte as reste,To sette his liege poeple in reste,Whan that the werre upon hem falleth;For thanne he mote, as it befalleth,Of his knyhthode as a LeonBe to the poeple a champiounWithouten eny Pite feigned.For if manhode be restreigned, 3540Or be it pes or be it werre,Justice goth al out of herre,So that knyhthode is set behinde.Of Aristotles lore I finde,A king schal make good visage,That noman knowe of his corageBot al honour and worthinesse:For if a king schal upon gesseWithoute verrai cause drede,He mai be lich to that I rede; 3550And thogh that it be lich a fable,Thensample is good and resonable.
As it be olde daies fell,I rede whilom that an hellUp in the londes of ArchadeA wonder dredful noise made;For so it fell that ilke day,This hell on his childinge lay,And whan the throwes on him come,His noise lich the day of dome 3560Was ferfull in a mannes thoghtOf thing which that thei sihe noght,Bot wel thei herden al abouteThe noise, of which thei were in doute,As thei that wenden to be loreOf thing which thanne was unbore.The nerr this hell was upon chanceTo taken his deliverance,The more unbuxomliche he cride;And every man was fledd aside, 3570For drede and lefte his oghne hous:And ate laste it was a Mous,The which was bore and to norriceBetake; and tho thei hield hem nyce,For thei withoute cause dradde.
Thus if a king his herte laddeWith every thing that he schal hiere,Fulofte he scholde change his chiereAnd upon fantasie drede,Whan that ther is no cause of drede. 3580
Orace to his Prince tolde,That him were levere that he woldeUpon knihthode Achillem suieIn time of werre, thanne eschuie,So as Tersites dede at Troie.Achilles al his hole joieSette upon Armes forto fihte;Tersites soghte al that he myhteUnarmed forto stonde in reste:Bot of the tuo it was the beste 3590That Achilles upon the nedeHath do, wherof his knyhtlihiedeIs yit comended overal.
King Salomon in specialSeith, as ther is a time of pes,So is a time nathelesOf werre, in which a Prince algateSchal for the comun riht debateAnd for his oghne worschipe eke.Bot it behoveth noght to seke 3600Only the werre for worschipe,Bot to the riht of his lordschipe,Which he is holde to defende,Mote every worthi Prince entende.Betwen the simplesce of PiteAnd the folhaste of crualte,Wher stant the verray hardiesce,Ther mote a king his herte adresce,Whanne it is time to forsake,And whan time is also to take 3610The dedly werres upon honde,That he schal for no drede wonde,If rihtwisnesse be withal.For god is myhty overalTo forthren every mannes trowthe,Bot it be thurgh his oghne slowthe;And namely the kinges nedeIt mai noght faile forto spede,For he stant one for hem alle;So mote it wel the betre falle 3620And wel the more god favoureth,Whan he the comun riht socoureth.And forto se the sothe in dede,Behold the bible and thou myht redeOf grete ensamples manyon,Wherof that I wol tellen on.
Upon a time as it befell,Ayein Judee and IrahelWhan sondri kinges come wereIn pourpos to destruie there 3630The poeple which god kepte tho,—And stod in thilke daies so,That Gedeon, which scholde ledeThe goddes folk, tok him to rede,And sende in al the lond aboute,Til he assembled hath a routeWith thritti thousend of defence,To fihte and make resistenceAyein the whiche hem wolde assaille:And natheles that o bataille 3640Of thre that weren enemysWas double mor than was al his;Wherof that Gedeon him dradde,That he so litel poeple hadde.Bot he which alle thing mai helpe,Wher that ther lacketh mannes helpe,To Gedeon his Angel sente,And bad, er that he forther wente,Al openly that he do crieThat every man in his partie 3650Which wolde after his oghne willeIn his delice abide stilleAt hom in eny maner wise,For pourchas or for covoitise,For lust of love or lacke of herte,He scholde noght aboute sterte,Bot holde him stille at hom in pes:Wherof upon the morwe he lesWel twenty thousend men and mo,The whiche after the cri ben go. 3660Thus was with him bot only leftThe thridde part, and yit god eftHis Angel sende and seide thisTo Gedeon: “If it so isThat I thin help schal undertake,Thou schalt yit lasse poeple take,Be whom mi will is that thou spede.Forthi tomorwe tak good hiede,Unto the flod whan ye be come,What man that hath the water nome 3670Up in his hond and lapeth so,To thi part ches out alle tho;And him which wery is to swinke,Upon his wombe and lith to drinke,Forsak and put hem alle aweie.For I am myhti alle weie,Wher as me list myn help to scheweIn goode men, thogh thei ben fewe.”
This Gedeon awaiteth wel,Upon the morwe and everydel, 3680As god him bad, riht so he dede.And thus ther leften in that stedeWith him thre hundred and nomo,The remenant was al ago:Wherof that Gedeon merveileth,And therupon with god conseileth,Pleignende as ferforth as he dar.And god, which wolde he were warThat he schal spede upon his riht,Hath bede him go the same nyht 3690And take a man with him, to hiereWhat schal be spoke in his matereAmong the hethen enemis;So mai he be the more wys,What afterward him schal befalle.
This Gedeon amonges allePhara, to whom he triste most,Be nyhte tok toward thilke host,Which logged was in a valleie,To hiere what thei wolden seie; 3700Upon his fot and as he ferde,Tuo Sarazins spekende he herde.Quod on, “Ared mi swevene ariht,Which I mette in mi slep to nyht.
Me thoghte I sih a barli cake,Which fro the Hull his weie hath take,And cam rollende doun at ones;And as it were for the nones,Forth in his cours so as it ran,The kinges tente of Madian, 3710Of Amalech, of Amoreie,Of Amon and of Jebuseie,And many an other tente moWith gret noise, as me thoghte tho,It threw to grounde and overcaste,And al this host so sore agasteThat I awok for pure drede.”
“This swevene can I wel arede,”Quod thother Sarazin anon:“The barli cake is Gedeon, 3720Which fro the hell doun sodeinlySchal come and sette such ascryUpon the kinges and ous bothe,That it schal to ous alle lothe:For in such drede he schal ous bringe,That if we hadden flyht of wynge,The weie on fote in desespeirWe scholden leve and flen in their,For ther schal nothing him withstonde.”
Whan Gedeon hath understonde 3730This tale, he thonketh god of al,And priveliche ayein he stal,So that no lif him hath perceived.And thanne he hath fulli conceivedThat he schal spede; and theruponThe nyht suiende he schop to gonThis multitude to assaile.Nou schalt thou hiere a gret mervaile,With what voisdie that he wroghte.The litel poeple which he broghte, 3740Was non of hem that he ne hathA pot of erthe, in which he tathA lyht brennende in a kressette,And ech of hem ek a trompetteBar in his other hond beside;And thus upon the nyhtes tydeDuk Gedeon, whan it was derk,Ordeineth him unto his werk,And parteth thanne his folk in thre,And chargeth hem that thei ne fle, 3750And tawhte hem hou they scholde ascrieAlle in o vois per compaignie,And what word ek thei scholden speke,And hou thei scholde here pottes brekeEchon with other, whan thei herdeThat he himselve ferst so ferde;For whan thei come into the stede,He bad hem do riht as he dede.
And thus stalkende forth a pasThis noble Duk, whan time was, 3760His pot tobrak and loude ascride,And tho thei breke on every side.The trompe was noght forto seke;He blew, and so thei blewen ekeWith such a noise among hem alle,As thogh the hevene scholde falle.The hull unto here vois ansuerde,This host in the valleie it herde,And sih hou that the hell alyhte;So what of hieringe and of sihte, 3770Thei cawhten such a sodein feere,That non of hem belefte there:The tentes hole thei forsoke,That thei non other good ne toke,Bot only with here bodi bareThei fledde, as doth the wylde Hare.And evere upon the hull thei blewe,Til that thei sihe time, and kneweThat thei be fled upon the rage;And whan thei wiste here avantage, 3780Thei felle anon unto the chace.
Thus myht thou sen hou goddes graceUnto the goode men availeth;But elles ofte time it failethTo suche as be noght wel disposed.This tale nedeth noght be glosed,For it is openliche schewedThat god to hem that ben wel thewedHath yove and granted the victoire:So that thensample of this histoire 3790Is good for every king to holde;Ferst in himself that he beholdeIf he be good of his livinge,And that the folk which he schal bringeBe good also, for thanne he mayBe glad of many a merie day,In what as evere he hath to done.For he which sit above the MoneAnd alle thing mai spille and spede,In every cause, in every nede 3800His goode king so wel adresceth,That alle his fomen he represseth,So that ther mai noman him dere;And als so wel he can forbere,And soffre a wickid king to falleIn hondes of his fomen alle.
Nou forthermore if I schal seinOf my matiere, and torne ayeinTo speke of justice and PiteAfter the reule of realte, 3810This mai a king wel understonde,Knihthode mot ben take on honde,Whan that it stant upon the nede:He schal no rihtful cause drede,Nomore of werre thanne of pes,If he wol stonde blameles;For such a cause a king mai haveThat betre him is to sle than save,Wherof thou myht ensample finde.The hihe makere of mankinde 3820Be Samuel to Saul bad,That he schal nothing ben adradAyein king Agag forto fihte;For this the godhede him behihte,That Agag schal ben overcome:And whan it is so ferforth come,That Saul hath him desconfit,The god bad make no respit,That he ne scholde him slen anon.Bot Saul let it overgon 3830And dede noght the goddes heste:For Agag made gret behesteOf rancoun which he wolde yive,King Saul soffreth him to liveAnd feigneth pite forth withal.Bot he which seth and knoweth al,The hihe god, of that he feignethTo Samuel upon him pleigneth,And sende him word, for that he lefteOf Agag that he ne berefte 3840The lif, he schal noght only dyeHimself, bot fro his regalieHe schal be put for everemo,Noght he, bot ek his heir also,That it schal nevere come ayein.
Thus myht thou se the sothe plein,That of tomoche and of tolyteUpon the Princes stant the wyte.Bot evere it was a kinges rihtTo do the dedes of a knyht; 3850For in the handes of a kingThe deth and lif is al o thingAfter the lawes of justice.To slen it is a dedly vice,Bot if a man the deth deserve;And if a king the lif preserveOf him which oghte forto dye,He suieth noght thensamplerieWhich in the bible is evident:Hou David in his testament, 3860Whan he no lengere myhte live,Unto his Sone in charge hath yiveThat he Joab schal slen algate;And whan David was gon his gate,The yonge wise SalomonHis fader heste dede anon,And slouh Joab in such a wise,That thei that herden the juiseEvere after dradden him the more,And god was ek wel paid therfore, 3870That he so wolde his herte plyeThe lawes forto justefie.And yit he kepte forth withalPite, so as a Prince schal,That he no tirannie wroghte;He fond the wisdom which he soghte,And was so rihtful natheles,That al his lif he stod in pes,That he no dedly werres hadde,For every man his wisdom dradde. 3880And as he was himselve wys,Riht so the worthi men of prisHe hath of his conseil withholde;For that is every Prince holde,To make of suche his retenueWhiche wise ben, and to remueThe foles: for ther is nothingWhich mai be betre aboute a king,Than conseil, which is the substanceOf all a kinges governance. 3890
In Salomon a man mai seeWhat thing of most necessiteUnto a worthi king belongeth.Whan he his kingdom underfongeth,God bad him chese what he wolde,And seide him that he have scholdeWhat he wolde axe, as of o thing.And he, which was a newe king,Forth therupon his bone preideTo god, and in this wise he seide: 3900“O king, be whom that I schal regne,Yif me wisdom, that I my regne,Forth with thi poeple which I have,To thin honour mai kepe and save.”Whan Salomon his bone hath taxed,The god of that which he hath axedWas riht wel paid, and granteth soneNoght al only that he his boneSchal have of that, bot of richesse,Of hele, of pes, of hih noblesse, 3910Forth with wisdom at his axinges,Which stant above alle othre thinges.
Bot what king wole his regne save,Ferst him behoveth forto haveAfter the god and his believeSuch conseil which is to believe,Fulfild of trouthe and rihtwisnesse:Bot above alle in his noblesseBetwen the reddour and piteA king schal do such equite 3920And sette the balance in evene,So that the hihe god in heveneAnd al the poeple of his nobleieLoange unto his name seie.For most above all erthli good,Wher that a king himself is goodIt helpeth, for in other weieIf so be that a king forsueie,Fulofte er this it hath be sein,The comun poeple is overlein 3930And hath the kinges Senne aboght,Al thogh the poeple agulte noght.Of that the king his god misserveth,The poeple takth that he descervethHier in this world, bot elleswhereI not hou it schal stonde there.Forthi good is a king to tristeFerst to himself, as he ne wisteNon other help bot god alone;So schal the reule of his persone 3940Withinne himself thurgh providenceBen of the betre conscience.And forto finde ensample of this,A tale I rede, and soth it is.
In a Cronique it telleth thus:The king of Rome LuciusWithinne his chambre upon a nyhtThe Steward of his hous, a knyht,Forth with his Chamberlein also,To conseil hadde bothe tuo, 3950And stoden be the ChimineeTogedre spekende alle thre.And happeth that the kinges folSat be the fyr upon a stol,As he that with his babil pleide,Bot yit he herde al that thei seide,And therof token thei non hiede.The king hem axeth what to redeOf such matiere as cam to mouthe,And thei him tolden as thei couthe. 3960Whan al was spoke of that thei mente,The king with al his hole ententeThanne ate laste hem axeth this,What king men tellen that he is:Among the folk touchende his name,Or be it pris, or be it blame,Riht after that thei herden sein,He bad hem forto telle it plein,That thei no point of soth forbere,Be thilke feith that thei him bere. 3970
The Steward ferst upon this thingYaf his ansuere unto the kingAnd thoghte glose in this matiere,And seide, als fer as he can hiere,His name is good and honourable:Thus was the Stieward favorable,That he the trouthe plein ne tolde.The king thanne axeth, as he scholde,The Chamberlein of his avis.
And he, that was soubtil and wys, 3980And somdiel thoghte upon his feith,Him tolde hou al the poeple seithThat if his conseil were trewe,Thei wiste thanne wel and kneweThat of himself he scholde beA worthi king in his degre:And thus the conseil he accusethIn partie, and the king excuseth.
The fol, which herde of al the casThat time, as goddes wille was, 3990Sih that thei seiden noght ynowh,And hem to skorne bothe lowh,And to the king he seide tho:“Sire king, if that it were so,Of wisdom in thin oghne modThat thou thiselven were good,Thi conseil scholde noght be badde.”The king therof merveille hadde,Whan that a fol so wisly spak,And of himself fond out the lack 4000Withinne his oghne conscience:And thus the foles evidence,Which was of goddes grace enspired,Makth that good conseil was desired.He putte awey the viciousAnd tok to him the vertuous;The wrongful lawes ben amended,The londes good is wel despended,The poeple was nomore oppressed,And thus stod every thing redressed. 4010For where a king is propre wys,And hath suche as himselven isOf his conseil, it mai noght faileThat every thing ne schal availe:The vices thanne gon aweie,And every vertu holt his weie;Wherof the hihe god is plesed,And al the londes folk is esed.For if the comun poeple crie,And thanne a king list noght to plie 4020To hiere what the clamour wolde,And otherwise thanne he scholdeDesdeigneth forto don hem grace,It hath be sen in many place,Ther hath befalle gret contraire;And that I finde of ensamplaire.
After the deth of Salomon,Whan thilke wise king was gon,And Roboas in his personeReceive scholde the corone, 4030The poeple upon a ParlementAvised were of on assent,And alle unto the king thei preiden,With comun vois and thus thei seiden:
“Oure liege lord, we thee besecheThat thou receive oure humble specheAnd grante ous that which reson wile,Or of thi grace or of thi skile.Thi fader, whil he was alyveAnd myhte bothe grante and pryve, 4040Upon the werkes whiche he haddeThe comun poeple streite ladde:Whan he the temple made newe,Thing which men nevere afore kneweHe broghte up thanne of his taillage,And al was under the visageOf werkes whiche he made tho.Bot nou it is befalle so,That al is mad, riht as he seide,And he was riche whan he deide; 4050So that it is no maner nede,If thou therof wolt taken hiede,To pilen of the poeple more,Which long time hath be grieved sore.And in this wise as we thee seie,With tendre herte we thee preieThat thou relesse thilke dette,Which upon ous thi fader sette.And if thee like to don so,We ben thi men for everemo, 4060To gon and comen at thin heste.”
The king, which herde this requeste,Seith that he wole ben avised,And hath therof a time assised;And in the while as he him thoghteUpon this thing, conseil he soghte.And ferst the wise knyhtes olde,To whom that he his tale tolde,Conseilen him in this manere;That he with love and with glad chiere 4070Foryive and grante al that is axedOf that his fader hadde taxed;For so he mai his regne achieveWith thing which schal him litel grieve.
The king hem herde and overpasseth,And with these othre his wit compasseth,That yonge were and nothing wise.And thei these olde men despise,And seiden: “Sire, it schal be schameFor evere unto thi worthi name, 4080If thou ne kepe noght the riht,Whil thou art in thi yonge myht,Which that thin olde fader gat.Bot seie unto the poeple plat,That whil thou livest in thi lond,The leste finger of thin hondIt schal be strengere overalThan was thi fadres bodi al.And this also schal be thi tale,If he hem smot with roddes smale, 4090With Scorpions thou schalt hem smyte;And wher thi fader tok a lyte,Thou thenkst to take mochel more.Thus schalt thou make hem drede soreThe grete herte of thi corage,So forto holde hem in servage.
This yonge king him hath conformedTo don as he was last enformed,Which was to him his undoinge:For whan it cam to the spekinge, 4100He hath the yonge conseil holde,That he the same wordes toldeOf al the poeple in audience;And whan thei herden the sentenceOf his malice and the manace,Anon tofore his oghne faceThei have him oultreli refusedAnd with ful gret reproef accused.So thei begunne forto rave,That he was fain himself to save; 4110For as the wilde wode rageOf wyndes makth the See salvage,And that was calm bringth into wawe,So for defalte of grace and laweThis poeple is stered al at onesAnd forth thei gon out of hise wones;So that of the lignages tuelveTuo tribes only be hemselveWith him abiden and nomo:So were thei for everemo 4120Of no retorn withoute espeirDeparted fro the rihtfull heir.Al Irahel with comun voisA king upon here oghne choisAmong hemself anon thei make,And have here yonge lord forsake;A povere knyht JeroboasThei toke, and lefte Roboas,Which rihtfull heir was be descente.
Lo, thus the yonge cause wente: 4130For that the conseil was noght good,The regne fro the rihtfull blodEvere afterward divided was.So mai it proven be this casThat yong conseil, which is to warm,Er men be war doth ofte harm.Old age for the conseil serveth,And lusti youthe his thonk deservethUpon the travail which he doth;And bothe, forto seie a soth, 4140Be sondri cause forto have,If that he wole his regne save,A king behoveth every day.That on can and that other mai,Be so the king hem bothe reule,For elles al goth out of reule.