Chapter 56

P. ii. 127[Avarice.]i.Obstat auaricia nature legibus, et queLargus amor poscit, striccius illa vetat.Omne quod est nimium viciosum dicitur aurum,Vellera sicut oues, seruat auarus opes.Non decet vt soli seruabitur es, set amori1446Debet homo solam solus habere suam.Ferst whan the hyhe god beganThis world, and that the kinde of manWas falle into no gret encress,For worldes good tho was no press,1447Bot al was set to the comune.Thei spieken thanne of no fortuneOr forto lese or forto winne,Hic in quinto libro intendit Confessor tractare de Auaricia, que omnium malorum radix dicitur, necnon et de eiusdem vicii speciebus: set primo ipsius Auaricie naturam describens Amanti quatenus amorem concernit super hoc specialius opponit.Til Avarice broghte it inne;And that was whan the world was woxeOf man, of hors, of Schep, of Oxe,10And that men knewen the moneie.Tho wente pes out of the weieAnd werre cam on every side,Which alle love leide asideP. ii. 128And of comun his propre made,So that in stede of schovele and spadeThe scharpe swerd was take on honde;And in this wise it cam to londe,Wherof men maden dyches depeAnd hyhe walles forto kepe20The gold which Avarice encloseth.Bot al to lytel him supposeth,Thogh he mihte al the world pourchace;For what thing that he may embraceOf gold, of catel or of lond,He let it nevere out of his hond,Bot get him more and halt it faste,As thogh the world scholde evere laste.So is he lych unto the helle;For as these olde bokes telle,144830What comth therinne, lasse or more,It schal departe neveremore:Thus whanne he hath his cofre loken,It schal noght after ben unstoken,Bot whanne him list to have a syhte1449Of gold, hou that it schyneth brihte,That he ther on mai loke and muse;For otherwise he dar noght useTo take his part, or lasse or more.So is he povere, and everemore145040Him lacketh that he hath ynowh:An Oxe draweth in the plowh,Of that himself hath no profit;A Schep riht in the same plitP. ii. 129His wolle berth, bot on a dayAn other takth the flees away:Thus hath he, that he noght ne hath,1451For he therof his part ne tath.To seie hou such a man hath good,Who so that reson understod,50It is impropreliche seid,For good hath him and halt him teid,That he ne gladeth noght withal,Bot is unto his good a thral,And as soubgit thus serveth he,Wher that he scholde maister be:Such is the kinde of thaverous.Confessor.Mi Sone, as thou art amerous,Tell if thou farst of love so.1452Confessio Amantis.Mi fader, as it semeth, no;60That averous yit nevere I was,So as ye setten me the cas:For as ye tolden here above,In full possession of loveYit was I nevere hier tofore,So that me thenketh wel therfore,I mai excuse wel my dede.Bot of mi will withoute drede,If I that tresor mihte gete,It scholde nevere be foryete,70That I ne wolde it faste holde,Til god of love himselve woldeThat deth ous scholde parte atuo.1453For lieveth wel, I love hire so,P. ii. 130That evene with min oghne lif,If I that swete lusti wifMihte ones welden at my wille,For evere I wolde hire holde stille:And in this wise, taketh kepe,If I hire hadde, I wolde hire kepe,80And yit no friday wolde I faste,Thogh I hire kepte and hielde faste.1454Fy on the bagges in the kiste!I hadde ynogh, if I hire kiste.For certes, if sche were myn,I hadde hir levere than a MynOf Gold; for al this worldesricheNe mihte make me so richeAs sche, that is so inly good.I sette noght of other good;90For mihte I gete such a thing,I hadde a tresor for a king;And thogh I wolde it faste holde,I were thanne wel beholde.Bot I mot pipe nou with lasse,And suffre that it overpasse,Noght with mi will, for thus I woldeBen averous, if that I scholde.Bot, fader, I you herde seieHou thaverous hath yit som weie,100Wherof he mai be glad; for heMai whanne him list his tresor se,1455And grope and fiele it al aboute,1456Bot I fulofte am schet theroute,P. ii. 131Ther as my worthi tresor is.So is mi lif lich unto this,That ye me tolden hier tofore,Hou that an Oxe his yock hath boreFor thing that scholde him noght availe:And in this wise I me travaile;1457110For who that evere hath the welfare,I wot wel that I have the care,For I am hadd and noght ne have,And am, as who seith, loves knave.Nou demeth in youre oghne thoght,If this be Avarice or noght.Confessor.Mi Sone, I have of thee no wonder,Thogh thou to serve be put underWith love, which to kinde acordeth:Bot, so as every bok recordeth,1458120It is to kinde no plesanceThat man above his sustienanceUnto the gold schal serve and bowe,For that mai no reson avowe.Bot Avarice natheles,If he mai geten his encressOf gold, that wole he serve and kepe,For he takth of noght elles kepe,Bot forto fille hise bagges large;1459And al is to him bot a charge,130For he ne parteth noght withal,Bot kepth it, as a servant schal:And thus, thogh that he multeplie1460His gold, withoute tresorieP. ii. 132He is, for man is noght amended1461With gold, bot if it be despendedTo mannes us; wherof I redeA tale, and tak therof good hiede,Of that befell be olde tyde,As telleth ous the clerk Ovide.140[Tale of Midas.]Bachus, which is the god of wyn,1462Acordant unto his divin1463Hic loquitur contra istos Auaros. Et narrat qualiter Mida Rex Frigie Cillenum Bachi sacerdotem, quem rustici vinculis ferreis alligarunt, dissoluit, et in hospicium suum benignissime recollegit; pro quo Bachus quodcunque munus Rex exigere vellet donari concessit. Vnde Rex Auaricia ductus, ut quicquid tangeret in aurum conuerteretur, indiscrete peciit. Quo facto postea contigit quod cibos cum ipse sumere vellet, in aurum conuersos manducare non potuit. Et sic percipiens aurum pro tunc non posse sibi valere, illud auferri, et tunc1464ea que victui sufficerent necessaria iteratis precibus a deo mitissime postulauit.A Prest, the which Cillenus hihte,1465He hadde, and fell so that be nyhteThis Prest was drunke and goth astraied,Wherof the men were evele apaied1466In Frigelond, where as he wente.Bot ate laste a cherl him henteWith strengthe of other felaschipe,So that upon his drunkeschipe150Thei bounden him with chenes faste,And forth thei ladde him als so fasteUnto the king, which hihte Myde.Bot he, that wolde his vice hyde,This courteis king, tok of him hiede,And bad that men him scholde ledeInto a chambre forto kepe,Til he of leisir hadde slepe.And tho this Prest was sone unbounde,1467And up a couche fro the grounde160To slepe he was leid softe ynowh;And whanne he wok, the king him drowhTo his presence and dede him chiere,So that this Prest in such manere,P. ii. 133Whil that him liketh, there he duelleth:And al this he to Bachus telleth,Whan that he cam to him ayein.And whan that Bachus herde sein1468How Mide hath don his courtesie,Him thenkth it were a vilenie,170Bot he rewarde him for his dede,So as he mihte of his godhiede.Unto this king this god appiereth1469And clepeth, and that other hiereth:This god to Mide thonketh faireOf that he was so debonaireToward his Prest, and bad him seie:What thing it were he wolde preie,He scholde it have, of worldes good.This king was glad, and stille stod,180And was of his axinge in doute,And al the world he caste aboute,What thing was best for his astat,And with himself stod in debatUpon thre pointz, the whiche I finde1470Ben lievest unto mannes kinde.The ferste of hem it is delit,The tuo ben worschipe and profit.1471And thanne he thoghte, ‘If that I craveDelit, thogh I delit mai have,190Delit schal passen in myn age:That is no siker avantage.For every joie bodilySchal ende in wo: delit forthiP. ii. 134Wol I noght chese. And if worschipeI axe and of the world lordschipe,1472That is an occupacionOf proud ymaginacion,Which makth an herte vein withinne;Ther is no certein forto winne,200For lord and knave al is o weie,1473Whan thei be bore and whan thei deie.And if I profit axe wolde,I not in what manere I scholdeOf worldes good have sikernesse;For every thief upon richesseAwaiteth forto robbe and stele:Such good is cause of harmes fele.And also, thogh a man at onesOf al the world withinne his wones1474210The tresor myhte have everydel,1475Yit hadde he bot o mannes del1476Toward himself, so as I thinke,Of clothinge and of mete and drinke,For more, outake vanite,Ther hath no lord in his degre.’And thus upon the pointz diverse1477Diverseliche he gan reherceWhat point him thoghte for the beste;Bot pleinly forto gete him reste220He can no siker weie caste.And natheles yit ate lasteHe fell upon the coveitiseOf gold; and thanne in sondri wiseP. ii. 135He thoghte, as I have seid tofore,Hou tresor mai be sone lore,And hadde an inly gret desirTouchende of such recoverir,Hou that he mihte his cause availeTo gete him gold withoute faile.230Withinne his herte and thus he preisethThe gold, and seith hou that it peisethAbove al other metall most:‘The gold,’ he seith, ‘may lede an hostTo make werre ayein a King;1478Salomon. Pecunie obediunt omnia.The gold put under alle thing,And set it whan him list above;The gold can make of hate loveAnd werre of pes and ryht of wrong,And long to schort and schort to long;240Withoute gold mai be no feste,Gold is the lord of man and beste,1479And mai hem bothe beie and selle;So that a man mai sothly telleThat al the world to gold obeieth.’Forthi this king to Bachus preiethTo grante him gold, bot he excedethMesure more than him nedeth.Men tellen that the maladie1480Which cleped is ydropesie250Resembled is unto this viceBe weie of kinde of Avarice:The more ydropesie drinketh,1481The more him thursteth, for him thinkethP. ii. 136That he mai nevere drinke his fille;So that ther mai nothing fulfilleThe lustes of his appetit:And riht in such a maner plitStant Avarice and evere stod;The more he hath of worldes good,260The more he wolde it kepe streyte,And evere mor and mor coveite.And riht in such condiciounWithoute good discreciounThis king with avarice is smite,That al the world it myhte wite:For he to Bachus thanne preide,That wherupon his hond he leide,1482It scholde thurgh his touche anonBecome gold, and therupon270This god him granteth as he bad.Tho was this king of Frige glad,And forto put it in assai1483With al the haste that he mai,1484He toucheth that, he toucheth this,And in his hond al gold it is,The Ston, the Tree, the Lef, the gras,The flour, the fruit, al gold it was.1485Thus toucheth he, whil he mai lasteTo go, bot hunger ate laste280Him tok, so that he moste nede1486Be weie of kinde his hunger fede.The cloth was leid, the bord was set,And al was forth tofore him fet,P. ii. 137His disch, his coppe, his drinke, his mete;Bot whanne he wolde or drinke or ete,Anon as it his mouth cam nyh,It was al gold, and thanne he syh1487Of Avarice the folie.And he with that began to crie,290And preide Bachus to foryiveHis gilt, and soffre him forto liveAnd be such as he was tofore,So that he were noght forlore.This god, which herde of his grevance,1488Tok rowthe upon his repentance,And bad him go forth redilyUnto a flod was faste by,Which Paceole thanne hyhte,In which as clene as evere he myhte300He scholde him waisshen overal,1489And seide him thanne that he schalRecovere his ferste astat ayein.This king, riht as he herde sein,Into the flod goth fro the lond,And wissh him bothe fot and hond,1490And so forth al the remenant,As him was set in covenant:And thanne he syh merveilles strange,The flod his colour gan to change,310The gravel with the smale StonesTo gold thei torne bothe at ones,And he was quit of that he hadde,And thus fortune his chance ladde.1491P. ii. 138And whan he sih his touche aweie,He goth him hom the rihte weie1492And liveth forth as he dede er,And putte al Avarice afer,And the richesse of gold despiseth,And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth.320Thus hath this king experienceHou foles don the reverenceTo gold, which of his oghne kindeIs lasse worth than is the rindeTo sustienance of mannes fode;And thanne he made lawes goodeAnd al his thing sette upon skile:He bad his poeple forto tileHere lond, and live under the lawe,And that thei scholde also forthdrawe330Bestaile, and seche non encressOf gold, which is the breche of pes.1493For this a man mai finde write,Tofor the time, er gold was smiteIn Coign, that men the florin knewe,Ther was welnyh noman untrewe;Tho was ther nouther schield ne spereNe dedly wepne forto bere;Tho was the toun withoute wal,Which nou is closed overal;340Tho was ther no brocage in londe,Which nou takth every cause on honde:So mai men knowe, hou the florinWas moder ferst of malenginP. ii. 139And bringere inne of alle werre,Wherof this world stant out of herreThurgh the conseil of Avarice,Which of his oghne propre viceIs as the helle wonderfull;For it mai neveremor be full,1494350That what as evere comth therinne,Awey ne may it nevere winne.Bot Sone myn, do thou noght so,Let al such Avarice go,And tak thi part of that thou hast:I bidde noght that thou do wast,Bot hold largesce in his mesure;And if thou se a creature,Which thurgh poverte is falle in nede,Yif him som good, for this I rede360To him that wol noght yiven here,What peine he schal have elleswhere.[The Punishment of Tantalus.]Ther is a peine amonges alleBenethe in helle, which men calle1495Nota de pena Tantali, cuius amara sitis dampnatos torquet auaros.The wofull peine of Tantaly,Of which I schal thee redelyDevise hou men therinne stonde.In helle, thou schalt understonde,1496Ther is a flod of thilke office,Which serveth al for Avarice:370What man that stonde schal therinne,1497He stant up evene unto the chinne;1498Above his hed also ther hongethA fruyt, which to that peine longeth,P. ii. 140And that fruit toucheth evere in onHis overlippe: and theruponSwich thurst and hunger him assaileth,That nevere his appetit ne faileth.Bot whanne he wolde his hunger fede,The fruit withdrawth him ate nede,380And thogh he heve his bed on hyh,The fruit is evere aliche nyh,So is the hunger wel the more:And also, thogh him thurste soreAnd to the water bowe a doun,1499The flod in such condiciounAvaleth, that his drinke arecheHe mai noght. Lo nou, which a wreche,That mete and drinke is him so couth,And yit ther comth non in his mouth!390Lich to the peines of this flodStant Avarice in worldes good:He hath ynowh and yit him nedeth,For his skarsnesse it him forbiedeth,1500And evere his hunger after moreTravaileth him aliche sore,So is he peined overal.Forthi thi goodes forth withal,[Avarice.]Mi Sone, loke thou despende,Wherof thou myht thiself amende400Bothe hier and ek in other place.And also if thou wolt pourchace1501To be beloved, thou most useLargesce, for if thou refuseP. ii. 141To yive for thi loves sake,It is no reson that thou takeOf love that thou woldest crave.Forthi, if thou wolt grace have,Be gracious and do largesse,Of Avarice and the seknesse410Eschuie above alle other thing,And tak ensample of Mide kingAnd of the flod of helle also,Where is ynowh of alle wo.And thogh ther were no matiereBot only that we finden hiere,Men oghten Avarice eschuie;For what man thilke vice suie,He get himself bot litel reste.For hou so that the body reste,420The herte upon the gold travaileth,Whom many a nyhtes drede assaileth;For thogh he ligge abedde naked,His herte is everemore awaked,1502And dremeth, as he lith to slepe,How besi that he is to kepeHis tresor, that no thief it stele.Thus hath he bot a woful wele.[Jealousy of Lovers.]And riht so in the same wise,If thou thiself wolt wel avise,430Ther be lovers of suche ynowe,That wole unto no reson bowe.If so be that thei come above,Whan thei ben maistres of here love,P. ii. 142And that thei scholden be most glad,With love thei ben most bestad,So fain thei wolde it holden al.Here herte, here yhe is overal,And wenen every man be thief,To stele awey that hem is lief;440Thus thurgh here oghne fantasieThei fallen into Jelousie.Thanne hath the Schip tobroke his cable,With every wynd and is muable.Amans.Mi fader, for that ye nou telle,I have herd ofte time telleOf Jelousie, bot what it isYit understod I nevere er this:1503Wherfore I wolde you beseche,That ye me wolde enforme and teche450What maner thing it mihte be.Confessor.Mi Sone, that is hard to me:Bot natheles, as I have herd,Now herkne and thou schalt ben ansuerd.1504Among the men lacke of manhodeIn Mariage upon wifhodeMakth that a man himself deceiveth,Nota de1505Ialousia, cuius fantastica suspicio amorem quamuis fidelissimum multociens sine causa corruptum ymaginatur.Wherof it is that he conceivethThat ilke unsely maladie,1506The which is cleped Jelousie:460Of which if I the propreteSchal telle after the nycete,So as it worcheth on a man,1507A Fievere it is cotidian,P. ii. 143Which every day wol come aboute,Wher so a man be inne or oute.At hom if that a man wol wone,This Fievere is thanne of comun woneMost grevous in a mannes yhe:For thanne he makth him tote and pryhe,470Wher so as evere his love go;1508Sche schal noght with hir litel tooMisteppe, bot he se it al.His yhe is walkende overal;Wher that sche singe or that sche dance,He seth the leste contienance,If sche loke on a man asideOr with him roune at eny tyde,Or that sche lawghe, or that sche loure,His yhe is ther at every houre.480And whanne it draweth to the nyht,If sche thanne is withoute lyht,Anon is al the game schent;For thanne he set his parlementTo speke it whan he comth to bedde,And seith, ‘If I were now to wedde,1509I wolde neveremore have wif.’1510And so he torneth into strifThe lust of loves duete,And al upon diversete.490If sche be freissh and wel araied,He seith hir baner is displaiedTo clepe in gestes fro the weie:1511And if sche be noght wel beseie,P. ii. 144And that hir list noght to be gladd,He berth an hond that sche is maddAnd loveth noght hire housebonde;He seith he mai wel understonde,That if sche wolde his compaignie,Sche scholde thanne afore his ÿe500Schewe al the plesir that sche mihte.So that be daie ne be nyhteSche not what thing is for the beste,Bot liveth out of alle reste;For what as evere him liste sein,1512Sche dar noght speke a word ayein,Bot wepth and holt hire lippes clos.Sche mai wel wryte, ‘Sanz repos,’The wif which is to such on maried.Of alle wommen be he waried,510For with this Fievere of Jalousie1513His echedaies fantasieOf sorghe is evere aliche grene,So that ther is no love sene,Whil that him list at hom abyde.And whan so is he wol out ryde,Thanne hath he redi his aspieAbidinge in hir compaignie,A janglere, an evel mouthed oon,That sche ne mai nowhider gon,520Ne speke a word, ne ones loke,That he ne wol it wende and crokeAnd torne after his oghne entente,Thogh sche nothing bot honour mente.P. ii. 145Whan that the lord comth hom ayein,The janglere moste somwhat sein;So what withoute and what withinne,This Fievere is evere to beginne,For where he comth he can noght ende,Til deth of him have mad an ende.530For thogh so be that he ne hiereNe se ne wite in no manereBot al honour and wommanhiede,Therof the Jelous takth non hiede,1514Bot as a man to love unkinde,He cast his staf, as doth the blinde,1515And fint defaulte where is non;As who so dremeth on a StonHou he is leid, and groneth ofte,Whan he lith on his pilwes softe.540So is ther noght bot strif and cheste;Whan love scholde make his feste,It is gret thing if he hir kisse:Thus hath sche lost the nyhtes blisse,For at such time he gruccheth evere1516And berth on hond ther is a levere,And that sche wolde an other wereIn stede of him abedde there;And with tho wordes and with moOf Jelousie, he torneth fro550And lith upon his other side,1517And sche with that drawth hire aside,And ther sche wepeth al the nyht.Ha, to what peine sche is dyht,P. ii. 146That in hire youthe hath so besetThe bond which mai noght ben unknet!I wot the time is ofte cursed,That evere was the gold unpursed,The which was leid upon the bok,Whan that alle othre sche forsok560For love of him; bot al to lateSche pleigneth, for as thanne algateSche mot forbere and to him bowe,Thogh he ne wole it noght allowe.For man is lord of thilke feire,So mai the womman bot empeire,If sche speke oght ayein his wille;And thus sche berth hir peine stille.Bot if this Fievere a womman take,Sche schal be wel mor harde schake;570For thogh sche bothe se and hiere,And finde that ther is matiere,Sche dar bot to hirselve pleine,And thus sche suffreth double peine,Confessor.Lo thus, mi Sone, as I have write,Thou miht of Jelousie witeHis fievere and his condicion,Which is full of suspecion.Bot wherof that this fievere groweth,Who so these olde bokes troweth,580Ther mai he finden hou it is:For thei ous teche and telle this,Hou that this fievere of JelousieSomdel it groweth of sotieP. ii. 147Of love, and somdiel of untrust.For as a sek man lest his lust,And whan he may no savour gete,He hateth thanne his oughne mete,Riht so this fieverous maladie,Which caused is of fantasie,590Makth the Jelous in fieble plitTo lese of love his appetitThurgh feigned enformacionOf his ymaginacion.Bot finali to taken hiede,Men mai wel make a liklihiedeBetwen him which is averousOf gold and him that is jelousOf love, for in on degreThei stonde bothe, as semeth me.600That oon wolde have his bagges stille,1518And noght departen with his wille,And dar noght for the thieves slepe,So fain he wolde his tresor kepe;That other mai noght wel be glad,For he is evere more adrad1519Of these lovers that gon aboute,In aunter if thei putte him oute.So have thei bothe litel joyeAs wel of love as of monoie.610Now hast thou, Sone, at my techinge1520Of Jelousie a knowlechinge,That thou myht understonde this,Fro whenne he comth and what he is,P. ii. 148And ek to whom that he is lik.Be war forthi thou be noght sikOf thilke fievere as I have spoke,For it wol in himself be wroke.For love hateth nothing more,As men mai finde be the lore620Of hem that whilom were wise,Hou that thei spieke in many wise.Amans.Mi fader, soth is that ye sein.Bot forto loke therayein,Befor this time hou it is falle,Wherof ther mihte ensample falleTo suche men as be jelousIn what manere it is grevous,Riht fain I wolde ensample hiere.Confessor.My goode Sone, at thi preiere630Of suche ensamples as I finde,So as thei comen nou to myndeUpon this point, of time gonI thenke forto tellen on.

P. ii. 127

[Avarice.]

i.Obstat auaricia nature legibus, et que

Largus amor poscit, striccius illa vetat.

Omne quod est nimium viciosum dicitur aurum,

Vellera sicut oues, seruat auarus opes.

Non decet vt soli seruabitur es, set amori1446

Debet homo solam solus habere suam.

Ferst whan the hyhe god beganThis world, and that the kinde of manWas falle into no gret encress,For worldes good tho was no press,1447Bot al was set to the comune.Thei spieken thanne of no fortuneOr forto lese or forto winne,Hic in quinto libro intendit Confessor tractare de Auaricia, que omnium malorum radix dicitur, necnon et de eiusdem vicii speciebus: set primo ipsius Auaricie naturam describens Amanti quatenus amorem concernit super hoc specialius opponit.Til Avarice broghte it inne;And that was whan the world was woxeOf man, of hors, of Schep, of Oxe,10And that men knewen the moneie.Tho wente pes out of the weieAnd werre cam on every side,Which alle love leide asideP. ii. 128And of comun his propre made,So that in stede of schovele and spadeThe scharpe swerd was take on honde;And in this wise it cam to londe,Wherof men maden dyches depeAnd hyhe walles forto kepe20The gold which Avarice encloseth.Bot al to lytel him supposeth,Thogh he mihte al the world pourchace;For what thing that he may embraceOf gold, of catel or of lond,He let it nevere out of his hond,Bot get him more and halt it faste,As thogh the world scholde evere laste.So is he lych unto the helle;For as these olde bokes telle,144830What comth therinne, lasse or more,It schal departe neveremore:Thus whanne he hath his cofre loken,It schal noght after ben unstoken,Bot whanne him list to have a syhte1449Of gold, hou that it schyneth brihte,That he ther on mai loke and muse;For otherwise he dar noght useTo take his part, or lasse or more.So is he povere, and everemore145040Him lacketh that he hath ynowh:An Oxe draweth in the plowh,Of that himself hath no profit;A Schep riht in the same plitP. ii. 129His wolle berth, bot on a dayAn other takth the flees away:Thus hath he, that he noght ne hath,1451For he therof his part ne tath.To seie hou such a man hath good,Who so that reson understod,50It is impropreliche seid,For good hath him and halt him teid,That he ne gladeth noght withal,Bot is unto his good a thral,And as soubgit thus serveth he,Wher that he scholde maister be:Such is the kinde of thaverous.Confessor.Mi Sone, as thou art amerous,Tell if thou farst of love so.1452Confessio Amantis.Mi fader, as it semeth, no;60That averous yit nevere I was,So as ye setten me the cas:For as ye tolden here above,In full possession of loveYit was I nevere hier tofore,So that me thenketh wel therfore,I mai excuse wel my dede.Bot of mi will withoute drede,If I that tresor mihte gete,It scholde nevere be foryete,70That I ne wolde it faste holde,Til god of love himselve woldeThat deth ous scholde parte atuo.1453For lieveth wel, I love hire so,P. ii. 130That evene with min oghne lif,If I that swete lusti wifMihte ones welden at my wille,For evere I wolde hire holde stille:And in this wise, taketh kepe,If I hire hadde, I wolde hire kepe,80And yit no friday wolde I faste,Thogh I hire kepte and hielde faste.1454Fy on the bagges in the kiste!I hadde ynogh, if I hire kiste.For certes, if sche were myn,I hadde hir levere than a MynOf Gold; for al this worldesricheNe mihte make me so richeAs sche, that is so inly good.I sette noght of other good;90For mihte I gete such a thing,I hadde a tresor for a king;And thogh I wolde it faste holde,I were thanne wel beholde.Bot I mot pipe nou with lasse,And suffre that it overpasse,Noght with mi will, for thus I woldeBen averous, if that I scholde.Bot, fader, I you herde seieHou thaverous hath yit som weie,100Wherof he mai be glad; for heMai whanne him list his tresor se,1455And grope and fiele it al aboute,1456Bot I fulofte am schet theroute,P. ii. 131Ther as my worthi tresor is.So is mi lif lich unto this,That ye me tolden hier tofore,Hou that an Oxe his yock hath boreFor thing that scholde him noght availe:And in this wise I me travaile;1457110For who that evere hath the welfare,I wot wel that I have the care,For I am hadd and noght ne have,And am, as who seith, loves knave.Nou demeth in youre oghne thoght,If this be Avarice or noght.Confessor.Mi Sone, I have of thee no wonder,Thogh thou to serve be put underWith love, which to kinde acordeth:Bot, so as every bok recordeth,1458120It is to kinde no plesanceThat man above his sustienanceUnto the gold schal serve and bowe,For that mai no reson avowe.Bot Avarice natheles,If he mai geten his encressOf gold, that wole he serve and kepe,For he takth of noght elles kepe,Bot forto fille hise bagges large;1459And al is to him bot a charge,130For he ne parteth noght withal,Bot kepth it, as a servant schal:And thus, thogh that he multeplie1460His gold, withoute tresorieP. ii. 132He is, for man is noght amended1461With gold, bot if it be despendedTo mannes us; wherof I redeA tale, and tak therof good hiede,Of that befell be olde tyde,As telleth ous the clerk Ovide.140

Ferst whan the hyhe god began

This world, and that the kinde of man

Was falle into no gret encress,

For worldes good tho was no press,1447

Bot al was set to the comune.

Thei spieken thanne of no fortune

Or forto lese or forto winne,

Hic in quinto libro intendit Confessor tractare de Auaricia, que omnium malorum radix dicitur, necnon et de eiusdem vicii speciebus: set primo ipsius Auaricie naturam describens Amanti quatenus amorem concernit super hoc specialius opponit.

Til Avarice broghte it inne;

And that was whan the world was woxe

Of man, of hors, of Schep, of Oxe,10

And that men knewen the moneie.

Tho wente pes out of the weie

And werre cam on every side,

Which alle love leide aside

P. ii. 128

And of comun his propre made,

So that in stede of schovele and spade

The scharpe swerd was take on honde;

And in this wise it cam to londe,

Wherof men maden dyches depe

And hyhe walles forto kepe20

The gold which Avarice encloseth.

Bot al to lytel him supposeth,

Thogh he mihte al the world pourchace;

For what thing that he may embrace

Of gold, of catel or of lond,

He let it nevere out of his hond,

Bot get him more and halt it faste,

As thogh the world scholde evere laste.

So is he lych unto the helle;

For as these olde bokes telle,144830

What comth therinne, lasse or more,

It schal departe neveremore:

Thus whanne he hath his cofre loken,

It schal noght after ben unstoken,

Bot whanne him list to have a syhte1449

Of gold, hou that it schyneth brihte,

That he ther on mai loke and muse;

For otherwise he dar noght use

To take his part, or lasse or more.

So is he povere, and everemore145040

Him lacketh that he hath ynowh:

An Oxe draweth in the plowh,

Of that himself hath no profit;

A Schep riht in the same plit

P. ii. 129

His wolle berth, bot on a day

An other takth the flees away:

Thus hath he, that he noght ne hath,1451

For he therof his part ne tath.

To seie hou such a man hath good,

Who so that reson understod,50

It is impropreliche seid,

For good hath him and halt him teid,

That he ne gladeth noght withal,

Bot is unto his good a thral,

And as soubgit thus serveth he,

Wher that he scholde maister be:

Such is the kinde of thaverous.

Confessor.

Mi Sone, as thou art amerous,

Tell if thou farst of love so.1452

Confessio Amantis.

Mi fader, as it semeth, no;60

That averous yit nevere I was,

So as ye setten me the cas:

For as ye tolden here above,

In full possession of love

Yit was I nevere hier tofore,

So that me thenketh wel therfore,

I mai excuse wel my dede.

Bot of mi will withoute drede,

If I that tresor mihte gete,

It scholde nevere be foryete,70

That I ne wolde it faste holde,

Til god of love himselve wolde

That deth ous scholde parte atuo.1453

For lieveth wel, I love hire so,

P. ii. 130

That evene with min oghne lif,

If I that swete lusti wif

Mihte ones welden at my wille,

For evere I wolde hire holde stille:

And in this wise, taketh kepe,

If I hire hadde, I wolde hire kepe,80

And yit no friday wolde I faste,

Thogh I hire kepte and hielde faste.1454

Fy on the bagges in the kiste!

I hadde ynogh, if I hire kiste.

For certes, if sche were myn,

I hadde hir levere than a Myn

Of Gold; for al this worldesriche

Ne mihte make me so riche

As sche, that is so inly good.

I sette noght of other good;90

For mihte I gete such a thing,

I hadde a tresor for a king;

And thogh I wolde it faste holde,

I were thanne wel beholde.

Bot I mot pipe nou with lasse,

And suffre that it overpasse,

Noght with mi will, for thus I wolde

Ben averous, if that I scholde.

Bot, fader, I you herde seie

Hou thaverous hath yit som weie,100

Wherof he mai be glad; for he

Mai whanne him list his tresor se,1455

And grope and fiele it al aboute,1456

Bot I fulofte am schet theroute,

P. ii. 131

Ther as my worthi tresor is.

So is mi lif lich unto this,

That ye me tolden hier tofore,

Hou that an Oxe his yock hath bore

For thing that scholde him noght availe:

And in this wise I me travaile;1457110

For who that evere hath the welfare,

I wot wel that I have the care,

For I am hadd and noght ne have,

And am, as who seith, loves knave.

Nou demeth in youre oghne thoght,

If this be Avarice or noght.

Confessor.

Mi Sone, I have of thee no wonder,

Thogh thou to serve be put under

With love, which to kinde acordeth:

Bot, so as every bok recordeth,1458120

It is to kinde no plesance

That man above his sustienance

Unto the gold schal serve and bowe,

For that mai no reson avowe.

Bot Avarice natheles,

If he mai geten his encress

Of gold, that wole he serve and kepe,

For he takth of noght elles kepe,

Bot forto fille hise bagges large;1459

And al is to him bot a charge,130

For he ne parteth noght withal,

Bot kepth it, as a servant schal:

And thus, thogh that he multeplie1460

His gold, withoute tresorie

P. ii. 132

He is, for man is noght amended1461

With gold, bot if it be despended

To mannes us; wherof I rede

A tale, and tak therof good hiede,

Of that befell be olde tyde,

As telleth ous the clerk Ovide.140

[Tale of Midas.]Bachus, which is the god of wyn,1462Acordant unto his divin1463Hic loquitur contra istos Auaros. Et narrat qualiter Mida Rex Frigie Cillenum Bachi sacerdotem, quem rustici vinculis ferreis alligarunt, dissoluit, et in hospicium suum benignissime recollegit; pro quo Bachus quodcunque munus Rex exigere vellet donari concessit. Vnde Rex Auaricia ductus, ut quicquid tangeret in aurum conuerteretur, indiscrete peciit. Quo facto postea contigit quod cibos cum ipse sumere vellet, in aurum conuersos manducare non potuit. Et sic percipiens aurum pro tunc non posse sibi valere, illud auferri, et tunc1464ea que victui sufficerent necessaria iteratis precibus a deo mitissime postulauit.A Prest, the which Cillenus hihte,1465He hadde, and fell so that be nyhteThis Prest was drunke and goth astraied,Wherof the men were evele apaied1466In Frigelond, where as he wente.Bot ate laste a cherl him henteWith strengthe of other felaschipe,So that upon his drunkeschipe150Thei bounden him with chenes faste,And forth thei ladde him als so fasteUnto the king, which hihte Myde.Bot he, that wolde his vice hyde,This courteis king, tok of him hiede,And bad that men him scholde ledeInto a chambre forto kepe,Til he of leisir hadde slepe.And tho this Prest was sone unbounde,1467And up a couche fro the grounde160To slepe he was leid softe ynowh;And whanne he wok, the king him drowhTo his presence and dede him chiere,So that this Prest in such manere,P. ii. 133Whil that him liketh, there he duelleth:And al this he to Bachus telleth,Whan that he cam to him ayein.And whan that Bachus herde sein1468How Mide hath don his courtesie,Him thenkth it were a vilenie,170Bot he rewarde him for his dede,So as he mihte of his godhiede.Unto this king this god appiereth1469And clepeth, and that other hiereth:This god to Mide thonketh faireOf that he was so debonaireToward his Prest, and bad him seie:What thing it were he wolde preie,He scholde it have, of worldes good.This king was glad, and stille stod,180And was of his axinge in doute,And al the world he caste aboute,What thing was best for his astat,And with himself stod in debatUpon thre pointz, the whiche I finde1470Ben lievest unto mannes kinde.The ferste of hem it is delit,The tuo ben worschipe and profit.1471And thanne he thoghte, ‘If that I craveDelit, thogh I delit mai have,190Delit schal passen in myn age:That is no siker avantage.For every joie bodilySchal ende in wo: delit forthiP. ii. 134Wol I noght chese. And if worschipeI axe and of the world lordschipe,1472That is an occupacionOf proud ymaginacion,Which makth an herte vein withinne;Ther is no certein forto winne,200For lord and knave al is o weie,1473Whan thei be bore and whan thei deie.And if I profit axe wolde,I not in what manere I scholdeOf worldes good have sikernesse;For every thief upon richesseAwaiteth forto robbe and stele:Such good is cause of harmes fele.And also, thogh a man at onesOf al the world withinne his wones1474210The tresor myhte have everydel,1475Yit hadde he bot o mannes del1476Toward himself, so as I thinke,Of clothinge and of mete and drinke,For more, outake vanite,Ther hath no lord in his degre.’And thus upon the pointz diverse1477Diverseliche he gan reherceWhat point him thoghte for the beste;Bot pleinly forto gete him reste220He can no siker weie caste.And natheles yit ate lasteHe fell upon the coveitiseOf gold; and thanne in sondri wiseP. ii. 135He thoghte, as I have seid tofore,Hou tresor mai be sone lore,And hadde an inly gret desirTouchende of such recoverir,Hou that he mihte his cause availeTo gete him gold withoute faile.230Withinne his herte and thus he preisethThe gold, and seith hou that it peisethAbove al other metall most:‘The gold,’ he seith, ‘may lede an hostTo make werre ayein a King;1478Salomon. Pecunie obediunt omnia.The gold put under alle thing,And set it whan him list above;The gold can make of hate loveAnd werre of pes and ryht of wrong,And long to schort and schort to long;240Withoute gold mai be no feste,Gold is the lord of man and beste,1479And mai hem bothe beie and selle;So that a man mai sothly telleThat al the world to gold obeieth.’Forthi this king to Bachus preiethTo grante him gold, bot he excedethMesure more than him nedeth.Men tellen that the maladie1480Which cleped is ydropesie250Resembled is unto this viceBe weie of kinde of Avarice:The more ydropesie drinketh,1481The more him thursteth, for him thinkethP. ii. 136That he mai nevere drinke his fille;So that ther mai nothing fulfilleThe lustes of his appetit:And riht in such a maner plitStant Avarice and evere stod;The more he hath of worldes good,260The more he wolde it kepe streyte,And evere mor and mor coveite.And riht in such condiciounWithoute good discreciounThis king with avarice is smite,That al the world it myhte wite:For he to Bachus thanne preide,That wherupon his hond he leide,1482It scholde thurgh his touche anonBecome gold, and therupon270This god him granteth as he bad.Tho was this king of Frige glad,And forto put it in assai1483With al the haste that he mai,1484He toucheth that, he toucheth this,And in his hond al gold it is,The Ston, the Tree, the Lef, the gras,The flour, the fruit, al gold it was.1485Thus toucheth he, whil he mai lasteTo go, bot hunger ate laste280Him tok, so that he moste nede1486Be weie of kinde his hunger fede.The cloth was leid, the bord was set,And al was forth tofore him fet,P. ii. 137His disch, his coppe, his drinke, his mete;Bot whanne he wolde or drinke or ete,Anon as it his mouth cam nyh,It was al gold, and thanne he syh1487Of Avarice the folie.And he with that began to crie,290And preide Bachus to foryiveHis gilt, and soffre him forto liveAnd be such as he was tofore,So that he were noght forlore.This god, which herde of his grevance,1488Tok rowthe upon his repentance,And bad him go forth redilyUnto a flod was faste by,Which Paceole thanne hyhte,In which as clene as evere he myhte300He scholde him waisshen overal,1489And seide him thanne that he schalRecovere his ferste astat ayein.This king, riht as he herde sein,Into the flod goth fro the lond,And wissh him bothe fot and hond,1490And so forth al the remenant,As him was set in covenant:And thanne he syh merveilles strange,The flod his colour gan to change,310The gravel with the smale StonesTo gold thei torne bothe at ones,And he was quit of that he hadde,And thus fortune his chance ladde.1491P. ii. 138And whan he sih his touche aweie,He goth him hom the rihte weie1492And liveth forth as he dede er,And putte al Avarice afer,And the richesse of gold despiseth,And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth.320Thus hath this king experienceHou foles don the reverenceTo gold, which of his oghne kindeIs lasse worth than is the rindeTo sustienance of mannes fode;And thanne he made lawes goodeAnd al his thing sette upon skile:He bad his poeple forto tileHere lond, and live under the lawe,And that thei scholde also forthdrawe330Bestaile, and seche non encressOf gold, which is the breche of pes.1493For this a man mai finde write,Tofor the time, er gold was smiteIn Coign, that men the florin knewe,Ther was welnyh noman untrewe;Tho was ther nouther schield ne spereNe dedly wepne forto bere;Tho was the toun withoute wal,Which nou is closed overal;340Tho was ther no brocage in londe,Which nou takth every cause on honde:So mai men knowe, hou the florinWas moder ferst of malenginP. ii. 139And bringere inne of alle werre,Wherof this world stant out of herreThurgh the conseil of Avarice,Which of his oghne propre viceIs as the helle wonderfull;For it mai neveremor be full,1494350That what as evere comth therinne,Awey ne may it nevere winne.Bot Sone myn, do thou noght so,Let al such Avarice go,And tak thi part of that thou hast:I bidde noght that thou do wast,Bot hold largesce in his mesure;And if thou se a creature,Which thurgh poverte is falle in nede,Yif him som good, for this I rede360To him that wol noght yiven here,What peine he schal have elleswhere.[The Punishment of Tantalus.]Ther is a peine amonges alleBenethe in helle, which men calle1495Nota de pena Tantali, cuius amara sitis dampnatos torquet auaros.The wofull peine of Tantaly,Of which I schal thee redelyDevise hou men therinne stonde.In helle, thou schalt understonde,1496Ther is a flod of thilke office,Which serveth al for Avarice:370What man that stonde schal therinne,1497He stant up evene unto the chinne;1498Above his hed also ther hongethA fruyt, which to that peine longeth,P. ii. 140And that fruit toucheth evere in onHis overlippe: and theruponSwich thurst and hunger him assaileth,That nevere his appetit ne faileth.Bot whanne he wolde his hunger fede,The fruit withdrawth him ate nede,380And thogh he heve his bed on hyh,The fruit is evere aliche nyh,So is the hunger wel the more:And also, thogh him thurste soreAnd to the water bowe a doun,1499The flod in such condiciounAvaleth, that his drinke arecheHe mai noght. Lo nou, which a wreche,That mete and drinke is him so couth,And yit ther comth non in his mouth!390Lich to the peines of this flodStant Avarice in worldes good:He hath ynowh and yit him nedeth,For his skarsnesse it him forbiedeth,1500And evere his hunger after moreTravaileth him aliche sore,So is he peined overal.Forthi thi goodes forth withal,[Avarice.]Mi Sone, loke thou despende,Wherof thou myht thiself amende400Bothe hier and ek in other place.And also if thou wolt pourchace1501To be beloved, thou most useLargesce, for if thou refuseP. ii. 141To yive for thi loves sake,It is no reson that thou takeOf love that thou woldest crave.Forthi, if thou wolt grace have,Be gracious and do largesse,Of Avarice and the seknesse410Eschuie above alle other thing,And tak ensample of Mide kingAnd of the flod of helle also,Where is ynowh of alle wo.And thogh ther were no matiereBot only that we finden hiere,Men oghten Avarice eschuie;For what man thilke vice suie,He get himself bot litel reste.For hou so that the body reste,420The herte upon the gold travaileth,Whom many a nyhtes drede assaileth;For thogh he ligge abedde naked,His herte is everemore awaked,1502And dremeth, as he lith to slepe,How besi that he is to kepeHis tresor, that no thief it stele.Thus hath he bot a woful wele.[Jealousy of Lovers.]And riht so in the same wise,If thou thiself wolt wel avise,430Ther be lovers of suche ynowe,That wole unto no reson bowe.If so be that thei come above,Whan thei ben maistres of here love,P. ii. 142And that thei scholden be most glad,With love thei ben most bestad,So fain thei wolde it holden al.Here herte, here yhe is overal,And wenen every man be thief,To stele awey that hem is lief;440Thus thurgh here oghne fantasieThei fallen into Jelousie.Thanne hath the Schip tobroke his cable,With every wynd and is muable.Amans.Mi fader, for that ye nou telle,I have herd ofte time telleOf Jelousie, bot what it isYit understod I nevere er this:1503Wherfore I wolde you beseche,That ye me wolde enforme and teche450What maner thing it mihte be.Confessor.Mi Sone, that is hard to me:Bot natheles, as I have herd,Now herkne and thou schalt ben ansuerd.1504

[Tale of Midas.]

Bachus, which is the god of wyn,1462

Acordant unto his divin1463

Hic loquitur contra istos Auaros. Et narrat qualiter Mida Rex Frigie Cillenum Bachi sacerdotem, quem rustici vinculis ferreis alligarunt, dissoluit, et in hospicium suum benignissime recollegit; pro quo Bachus quodcunque munus Rex exigere vellet donari concessit. Vnde Rex Auaricia ductus, ut quicquid tangeret in aurum conuerteretur, indiscrete peciit. Quo facto postea contigit quod cibos cum ipse sumere vellet, in aurum conuersos manducare non potuit. Et sic percipiens aurum pro tunc non posse sibi valere, illud auferri, et tunc1464ea que victui sufficerent necessaria iteratis precibus a deo mitissime postulauit.

A Prest, the which Cillenus hihte,1465

He hadde, and fell so that be nyhte

This Prest was drunke and goth astraied,

Wherof the men were evele apaied1466

In Frigelond, where as he wente.

Bot ate laste a cherl him hente

With strengthe of other felaschipe,

So that upon his drunkeschipe150

Thei bounden him with chenes faste,

And forth thei ladde him als so faste

Unto the king, which hihte Myde.

Bot he, that wolde his vice hyde,

This courteis king, tok of him hiede,

And bad that men him scholde lede

Into a chambre forto kepe,

Til he of leisir hadde slepe.

And tho this Prest was sone unbounde,1467

And up a couche fro the grounde160

To slepe he was leid softe ynowh;

And whanne he wok, the king him drowh

To his presence and dede him chiere,

So that this Prest in such manere,

P. ii. 133

Whil that him liketh, there he duelleth:

And al this he to Bachus telleth,

Whan that he cam to him ayein.

And whan that Bachus herde sein1468

How Mide hath don his courtesie,

Him thenkth it were a vilenie,170

Bot he rewarde him for his dede,

So as he mihte of his godhiede.

Unto this king this god appiereth1469

And clepeth, and that other hiereth:

This god to Mide thonketh faire

Of that he was so debonaire

Toward his Prest, and bad him seie:

What thing it were he wolde preie,

He scholde it have, of worldes good.

This king was glad, and stille stod,180

And was of his axinge in doute,

And al the world he caste aboute,

What thing was best for his astat,

And with himself stod in debat

Upon thre pointz, the whiche I finde1470

Ben lievest unto mannes kinde.

The ferste of hem it is delit,

The tuo ben worschipe and profit.1471

And thanne he thoghte, ‘If that I crave

Delit, thogh I delit mai have,190

Delit schal passen in myn age:

That is no siker avantage.

For every joie bodily

Schal ende in wo: delit forthi

P. ii. 134

Wol I noght chese. And if worschipe

I axe and of the world lordschipe,1472

That is an occupacion

Of proud ymaginacion,

Which makth an herte vein withinne;

Ther is no certein forto winne,200

For lord and knave al is o weie,1473

Whan thei be bore and whan thei deie.

And if I profit axe wolde,

I not in what manere I scholde

Of worldes good have sikernesse;

For every thief upon richesse

Awaiteth forto robbe and stele:

Such good is cause of harmes fele.

And also, thogh a man at ones

Of al the world withinne his wones1474210

The tresor myhte have everydel,1475

Yit hadde he bot o mannes del1476

Toward himself, so as I thinke,

Of clothinge and of mete and drinke,

For more, outake vanite,

Ther hath no lord in his degre.’

And thus upon the pointz diverse1477

Diverseliche he gan reherce

What point him thoghte for the beste;

Bot pleinly forto gete him reste220

He can no siker weie caste.

And natheles yit ate laste

He fell upon the coveitise

Of gold; and thanne in sondri wise

P. ii. 135

He thoghte, as I have seid tofore,

Hou tresor mai be sone lore,

And hadde an inly gret desir

Touchende of such recoverir,

Hou that he mihte his cause availe

To gete him gold withoute faile.230

Withinne his herte and thus he preiseth

The gold, and seith hou that it peiseth

Above al other metall most:

‘The gold,’ he seith, ‘may lede an host

To make werre ayein a King;1478

Salomon. Pecunie obediunt omnia.

The gold put under alle thing,

And set it whan him list above;

The gold can make of hate love

And werre of pes and ryht of wrong,

And long to schort and schort to long;240

Withoute gold mai be no feste,

Gold is the lord of man and beste,1479

And mai hem bothe beie and selle;

So that a man mai sothly telle

That al the world to gold obeieth.’

Forthi this king to Bachus preieth

To grante him gold, bot he excedeth

Mesure more than him nedeth.

Men tellen that the maladie1480

Which cleped is ydropesie250

Resembled is unto this vice

Be weie of kinde of Avarice:

The more ydropesie drinketh,1481

The more him thursteth, for him thinketh

P. ii. 136

That he mai nevere drinke his fille;

So that ther mai nothing fulfille

The lustes of his appetit:

And riht in such a maner plit

Stant Avarice and evere stod;

The more he hath of worldes good,260

The more he wolde it kepe streyte,

And evere mor and mor coveite.

And riht in such condicioun

Withoute good discrecioun

This king with avarice is smite,

That al the world it myhte wite:

For he to Bachus thanne preide,

That wherupon his hond he leide,1482

It scholde thurgh his touche anon

Become gold, and therupon270

This god him granteth as he bad.

Tho was this king of Frige glad,

And forto put it in assai1483

With al the haste that he mai,1484

He toucheth that, he toucheth this,

And in his hond al gold it is,

The Ston, the Tree, the Lef, the gras,

The flour, the fruit, al gold it was.1485

Thus toucheth he, whil he mai laste

To go, bot hunger ate laste280

Him tok, so that he moste nede1486

Be weie of kinde his hunger fede.

The cloth was leid, the bord was set,

And al was forth tofore him fet,

P. ii. 137

His disch, his coppe, his drinke, his mete;

Bot whanne he wolde or drinke or ete,

Anon as it his mouth cam nyh,

It was al gold, and thanne he syh1487

Of Avarice the folie.

And he with that began to crie,290

And preide Bachus to foryive

His gilt, and soffre him forto live

And be such as he was tofore,

So that he were noght forlore.

This god, which herde of his grevance,1488

Tok rowthe upon his repentance,

And bad him go forth redily

Unto a flod was faste by,

Which Paceole thanne hyhte,

In which as clene as evere he myhte300

He scholde him waisshen overal,1489

And seide him thanne that he schal

Recovere his ferste astat ayein.

This king, riht as he herde sein,

Into the flod goth fro the lond,

And wissh him bothe fot and hond,1490

And so forth al the remenant,

As him was set in covenant:

And thanne he syh merveilles strange,

The flod his colour gan to change,310

The gravel with the smale Stones

To gold thei torne bothe at ones,

And he was quit of that he hadde,

And thus fortune his chance ladde.1491

P. ii. 138

And whan he sih his touche aweie,

He goth him hom the rihte weie1492

And liveth forth as he dede er,

And putte al Avarice afer,

And the richesse of gold despiseth,

And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth.320

Thus hath this king experience

Hou foles don the reverence

To gold, which of his oghne kinde

Is lasse worth than is the rinde

To sustienance of mannes fode;

And thanne he made lawes goode

And al his thing sette upon skile:

He bad his poeple forto tile

Here lond, and live under the lawe,

And that thei scholde also forthdrawe330

Bestaile, and seche non encress

Of gold, which is the breche of pes.1493

For this a man mai finde write,

Tofor the time, er gold was smite

In Coign, that men the florin knewe,

Ther was welnyh noman untrewe;

Tho was ther nouther schield ne spere

Ne dedly wepne forto bere;

Tho was the toun withoute wal,

Which nou is closed overal;340

Tho was ther no brocage in londe,

Which nou takth every cause on honde:

So mai men knowe, hou the florin

Was moder ferst of malengin

P. ii. 139

And bringere inne of alle werre,

Wherof this world stant out of herre

Thurgh the conseil of Avarice,

Which of his oghne propre vice

Is as the helle wonderfull;

For it mai neveremor be full,1494350

That what as evere comth therinne,

Awey ne may it nevere winne.

Bot Sone myn, do thou noght so,

Let al such Avarice go,

And tak thi part of that thou hast:

I bidde noght that thou do wast,

Bot hold largesce in his mesure;

And if thou se a creature,

Which thurgh poverte is falle in nede,

Yif him som good, for this I rede360

To him that wol noght yiven here,

What peine he schal have elleswhere.

[The Punishment of Tantalus.]

Ther is a peine amonges alle

Benethe in helle, which men calle1495

Nota de pena Tantali, cuius amara sitis dampnatos torquet auaros.

The wofull peine of Tantaly,

Of which I schal thee redely

Devise hou men therinne stonde.

In helle, thou schalt understonde,1496

Ther is a flod of thilke office,

Which serveth al for Avarice:370

What man that stonde schal therinne,1497

He stant up evene unto the chinne;1498

Above his hed also ther hongeth

A fruyt, which to that peine longeth,

P. ii. 140

And that fruit toucheth evere in on

His overlippe: and therupon

Swich thurst and hunger him assaileth,

That nevere his appetit ne faileth.

Bot whanne he wolde his hunger fede,

The fruit withdrawth him ate nede,380

And thogh he heve his bed on hyh,

The fruit is evere aliche nyh,

So is the hunger wel the more:

And also, thogh him thurste sore

And to the water bowe a doun,1499

The flod in such condicioun

Avaleth, that his drinke areche

He mai noght. Lo nou, which a wreche,

That mete and drinke is him so couth,

And yit ther comth non in his mouth!390

Lich to the peines of this flod

Stant Avarice in worldes good:

He hath ynowh and yit him nedeth,

For his skarsnesse it him forbiedeth,1500

And evere his hunger after more

Travaileth him aliche sore,

So is he peined overal.

Forthi thi goodes forth withal,

[Avarice.]

Mi Sone, loke thou despende,

Wherof thou myht thiself amende400

Bothe hier and ek in other place.

And also if thou wolt pourchace1501

To be beloved, thou most use

Largesce, for if thou refuse

P. ii. 141

To yive for thi loves sake,

It is no reson that thou take

Of love that thou woldest crave.

Forthi, if thou wolt grace have,

Be gracious and do largesse,

Of Avarice and the seknesse410

Eschuie above alle other thing,

And tak ensample of Mide king

And of the flod of helle also,

Where is ynowh of alle wo.

And thogh ther were no matiere

Bot only that we finden hiere,

Men oghten Avarice eschuie;

For what man thilke vice suie,

He get himself bot litel reste.

For hou so that the body reste,420

The herte upon the gold travaileth,

Whom many a nyhtes drede assaileth;

For thogh he ligge abedde naked,

His herte is everemore awaked,1502

And dremeth, as he lith to slepe,

How besi that he is to kepe

His tresor, that no thief it stele.

Thus hath he bot a woful wele.

[Jealousy of Lovers.]

And riht so in the same wise,

If thou thiself wolt wel avise,430

Ther be lovers of suche ynowe,

That wole unto no reson bowe.

If so be that thei come above,

Whan thei ben maistres of here love,

P. ii. 142

And that thei scholden be most glad,

With love thei ben most bestad,

So fain thei wolde it holden al.

Here herte, here yhe is overal,

And wenen every man be thief,

To stele awey that hem is lief;440

Thus thurgh here oghne fantasie

Thei fallen into Jelousie.

Thanne hath the Schip tobroke his cable,

With every wynd and is muable.

Amans.

Mi fader, for that ye nou telle,

I have herd ofte time telle

Of Jelousie, bot what it is

Yit understod I nevere er this:1503

Wherfore I wolde you beseche,

That ye me wolde enforme and teche450

What maner thing it mihte be.

Confessor.

Mi Sone, that is hard to me:

Bot natheles, as I have herd,

Now herkne and thou schalt ben ansuerd.1504

Among the men lacke of manhodeIn Mariage upon wifhodeMakth that a man himself deceiveth,Nota de1505Ialousia, cuius fantastica suspicio amorem quamuis fidelissimum multociens sine causa corruptum ymaginatur.Wherof it is that he conceivethThat ilke unsely maladie,1506The which is cleped Jelousie:460Of which if I the propreteSchal telle after the nycete,So as it worcheth on a man,1507A Fievere it is cotidian,P. ii. 143Which every day wol come aboute,Wher so a man be inne or oute.At hom if that a man wol wone,This Fievere is thanne of comun woneMost grevous in a mannes yhe:For thanne he makth him tote and pryhe,470Wher so as evere his love go;1508Sche schal noght with hir litel tooMisteppe, bot he se it al.His yhe is walkende overal;Wher that sche singe or that sche dance,He seth the leste contienance,If sche loke on a man asideOr with him roune at eny tyde,Or that sche lawghe, or that sche loure,His yhe is ther at every houre.480And whanne it draweth to the nyht,If sche thanne is withoute lyht,Anon is al the game schent;For thanne he set his parlementTo speke it whan he comth to bedde,And seith, ‘If I were now to wedde,1509I wolde neveremore have wif.’1510And so he torneth into strifThe lust of loves duete,And al upon diversete.490If sche be freissh and wel araied,He seith hir baner is displaiedTo clepe in gestes fro the weie:1511And if sche be noght wel beseie,P. ii. 144And that hir list noght to be gladd,He berth an hond that sche is maddAnd loveth noght hire housebonde;He seith he mai wel understonde,That if sche wolde his compaignie,Sche scholde thanne afore his ÿe500Schewe al the plesir that sche mihte.So that be daie ne be nyhteSche not what thing is for the beste,Bot liveth out of alle reste;For what as evere him liste sein,1512Sche dar noght speke a word ayein,Bot wepth and holt hire lippes clos.Sche mai wel wryte, ‘Sanz repos,’The wif which is to such on maried.Of alle wommen be he waried,510For with this Fievere of Jalousie1513His echedaies fantasieOf sorghe is evere aliche grene,So that ther is no love sene,Whil that him list at hom abyde.And whan so is he wol out ryde,Thanne hath he redi his aspieAbidinge in hir compaignie,A janglere, an evel mouthed oon,That sche ne mai nowhider gon,520Ne speke a word, ne ones loke,That he ne wol it wende and crokeAnd torne after his oghne entente,Thogh sche nothing bot honour mente.P. ii. 145Whan that the lord comth hom ayein,The janglere moste somwhat sein;So what withoute and what withinne,This Fievere is evere to beginne,For where he comth he can noght ende,Til deth of him have mad an ende.530For thogh so be that he ne hiereNe se ne wite in no manereBot al honour and wommanhiede,Therof the Jelous takth non hiede,1514Bot as a man to love unkinde,He cast his staf, as doth the blinde,1515And fint defaulte where is non;As who so dremeth on a StonHou he is leid, and groneth ofte,Whan he lith on his pilwes softe.540So is ther noght bot strif and cheste;Whan love scholde make his feste,It is gret thing if he hir kisse:Thus hath sche lost the nyhtes blisse,For at such time he gruccheth evere1516And berth on hond ther is a levere,And that sche wolde an other wereIn stede of him abedde there;And with tho wordes and with moOf Jelousie, he torneth fro550And lith upon his other side,1517And sche with that drawth hire aside,And ther sche wepeth al the nyht.Ha, to what peine sche is dyht,P. ii. 146That in hire youthe hath so besetThe bond which mai noght ben unknet!I wot the time is ofte cursed,That evere was the gold unpursed,The which was leid upon the bok,Whan that alle othre sche forsok560For love of him; bot al to lateSche pleigneth, for as thanne algateSche mot forbere and to him bowe,Thogh he ne wole it noght allowe.For man is lord of thilke feire,So mai the womman bot empeire,If sche speke oght ayein his wille;And thus sche berth hir peine stille.Bot if this Fievere a womman take,Sche schal be wel mor harde schake;570For thogh sche bothe se and hiere,And finde that ther is matiere,Sche dar bot to hirselve pleine,And thus sche suffreth double peine,Confessor.Lo thus, mi Sone, as I have write,Thou miht of Jelousie witeHis fievere and his condicion,Which is full of suspecion.Bot wherof that this fievere groweth,Who so these olde bokes troweth,580Ther mai he finden hou it is:For thei ous teche and telle this,Hou that this fievere of JelousieSomdel it groweth of sotieP. ii. 147Of love, and somdiel of untrust.For as a sek man lest his lust,And whan he may no savour gete,He hateth thanne his oughne mete,Riht so this fieverous maladie,Which caused is of fantasie,590Makth the Jelous in fieble plitTo lese of love his appetitThurgh feigned enformacionOf his ymaginacion.Bot finali to taken hiede,Men mai wel make a liklihiedeBetwen him which is averousOf gold and him that is jelousOf love, for in on degreThei stonde bothe, as semeth me.600That oon wolde have his bagges stille,1518And noght departen with his wille,And dar noght for the thieves slepe,So fain he wolde his tresor kepe;That other mai noght wel be glad,For he is evere more adrad1519Of these lovers that gon aboute,In aunter if thei putte him oute.So have thei bothe litel joyeAs wel of love as of monoie.610Now hast thou, Sone, at my techinge1520Of Jelousie a knowlechinge,That thou myht understonde this,Fro whenne he comth and what he is,P. ii. 148And ek to whom that he is lik.Be war forthi thou be noght sikOf thilke fievere as I have spoke,For it wol in himself be wroke.For love hateth nothing more,As men mai finde be the lore620Of hem that whilom were wise,Hou that thei spieke in many wise.Amans.Mi fader, soth is that ye sein.Bot forto loke therayein,Befor this time hou it is falle,Wherof ther mihte ensample falleTo suche men as be jelousIn what manere it is grevous,Riht fain I wolde ensample hiere.Confessor.My goode Sone, at thi preiere630Of suche ensamples as I finde,So as thei comen nou to myndeUpon this point, of time gonI thenke forto tellen on.

Among the men lacke of manhode

In Mariage upon wifhode

Makth that a man himself deceiveth,

Nota de1505Ialousia, cuius fantastica suspicio amorem quamuis fidelissimum multociens sine causa corruptum ymaginatur.

Wherof it is that he conceiveth

That ilke unsely maladie,1506

The which is cleped Jelousie:460

Of which if I the proprete

Schal telle after the nycete,

So as it worcheth on a man,1507

A Fievere it is cotidian,

P. ii. 143

Which every day wol come aboute,

Wher so a man be inne or oute.

At hom if that a man wol wone,

This Fievere is thanne of comun wone

Most grevous in a mannes yhe:

For thanne he makth him tote and pryhe,470

Wher so as evere his love go;1508

Sche schal noght with hir litel too

Misteppe, bot he se it al.

His yhe is walkende overal;

Wher that sche singe or that sche dance,

He seth the leste contienance,

If sche loke on a man aside

Or with him roune at eny tyde,

Or that sche lawghe, or that sche loure,

His yhe is ther at every houre.480

And whanne it draweth to the nyht,

If sche thanne is withoute lyht,

Anon is al the game schent;

For thanne he set his parlement

To speke it whan he comth to bedde,

And seith, ‘If I were now to wedde,1509

I wolde neveremore have wif.’1510

And so he torneth into strif

The lust of loves duete,

And al upon diversete.490

If sche be freissh and wel araied,

He seith hir baner is displaied

To clepe in gestes fro the weie:1511

And if sche be noght wel beseie,

P. ii. 144

And that hir list noght to be gladd,

He berth an hond that sche is madd

And loveth noght hire housebonde;

He seith he mai wel understonde,

That if sche wolde his compaignie,

Sche scholde thanne afore his ÿe500

Schewe al the plesir that sche mihte.

So that be daie ne be nyhte

Sche not what thing is for the beste,

Bot liveth out of alle reste;

For what as evere him liste sein,1512

Sche dar noght speke a word ayein,

Bot wepth and holt hire lippes clos.

Sche mai wel wryte, ‘Sanz repos,’

The wif which is to such on maried.

Of alle wommen be he waried,510

For with this Fievere of Jalousie1513

His echedaies fantasie

Of sorghe is evere aliche grene,

So that ther is no love sene,

Whil that him list at hom abyde.

And whan so is he wol out ryde,

Thanne hath he redi his aspie

Abidinge in hir compaignie,

A janglere, an evel mouthed oon,

That sche ne mai nowhider gon,520

Ne speke a word, ne ones loke,

That he ne wol it wende and croke

And torne after his oghne entente,

Thogh sche nothing bot honour mente.

P. ii. 145

Whan that the lord comth hom ayein,

The janglere moste somwhat sein;

So what withoute and what withinne,

This Fievere is evere to beginne,

For where he comth he can noght ende,

Til deth of him have mad an ende.530

For thogh so be that he ne hiere

Ne se ne wite in no manere

Bot al honour and wommanhiede,

Therof the Jelous takth non hiede,1514

Bot as a man to love unkinde,

He cast his staf, as doth the blinde,1515

And fint defaulte where is non;

As who so dremeth on a Ston

Hou he is leid, and groneth ofte,

Whan he lith on his pilwes softe.540

So is ther noght bot strif and cheste;

Whan love scholde make his feste,

It is gret thing if he hir kisse:

Thus hath sche lost the nyhtes blisse,

For at such time he gruccheth evere1516

And berth on hond ther is a levere,

And that sche wolde an other were

In stede of him abedde there;

And with tho wordes and with mo

Of Jelousie, he torneth fro550

And lith upon his other side,1517

And sche with that drawth hire aside,

And ther sche wepeth al the nyht.

Ha, to what peine sche is dyht,

P. ii. 146

That in hire youthe hath so beset

The bond which mai noght ben unknet!

I wot the time is ofte cursed,

That evere was the gold unpursed,

The which was leid upon the bok,

Whan that alle othre sche forsok560

For love of him; bot al to late

Sche pleigneth, for as thanne algate

Sche mot forbere and to him bowe,

Thogh he ne wole it noght allowe.

For man is lord of thilke feire,

So mai the womman bot empeire,

If sche speke oght ayein his wille;

And thus sche berth hir peine stille.

Bot if this Fievere a womman take,

Sche schal be wel mor harde schake;570

For thogh sche bothe se and hiere,

And finde that ther is matiere,

Sche dar bot to hirselve pleine,

And thus sche suffreth double peine,

Confessor.

Lo thus, mi Sone, as I have write,

Thou miht of Jelousie wite

His fievere and his condicion,

Which is full of suspecion.

Bot wherof that this fievere groweth,

Who so these olde bokes troweth,580

Ther mai he finden hou it is:

For thei ous teche and telle this,

Hou that this fievere of Jelousie

Somdel it groweth of sotie

P. ii. 147

Of love, and somdiel of untrust.

For as a sek man lest his lust,

And whan he may no savour gete,

He hateth thanne his oughne mete,

Riht so this fieverous maladie,

Which caused is of fantasie,590

Makth the Jelous in fieble plit

To lese of love his appetit

Thurgh feigned enformacion

Of his ymaginacion.

Bot finali to taken hiede,

Men mai wel make a liklihiede

Betwen him which is averous

Of gold and him that is jelous

Of love, for in on degre

Thei stonde bothe, as semeth me.600

That oon wolde have his bagges stille,1518

And noght departen with his wille,

And dar noght for the thieves slepe,

So fain he wolde his tresor kepe;

That other mai noght wel be glad,

For he is evere more adrad1519

Of these lovers that gon aboute,

In aunter if thei putte him oute.

So have thei bothe litel joye

As wel of love as of monoie.610

Now hast thou, Sone, at my techinge1520

Of Jelousie a knowlechinge,

That thou myht understonde this,

Fro whenne he comth and what he is,

P. ii. 148

And ek to whom that he is lik.

Be war forthi thou be noght sik

Of thilke fievere as I have spoke,

For it wol in himself be wroke.

For love hateth nothing more,

As men mai finde be the lore620

Of hem that whilom were wise,

Hou that thei spieke in many wise.

Amans.

Mi fader, soth is that ye sein.

Bot forto loke therayein,

Befor this time hou it is falle,

Wherof ther mihte ensample falle

To suche men as be jelous

In what manere it is grevous,

Riht fain I wolde ensample hiere.

Confessor.

My goode Sone, at thi preiere630

Of suche ensamples as I finde,

So as thei comen nou to mynde

Upon this point, of time gon

I thenke forto tellen on.

Back to Index Next