P. iii. 1[Gluttony.]i.Est gula que nostrum maculauit prima parentemEx vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo.Hec agit vt corpus anime contraria spirat,Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,Potibus ebrietas conuiciata ruit.Mersa sopore, labris, que Bachus inebriat hospes,Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.The grete Senne original,Which every man in generalUpon his berthe hath envenymed,Hic in sexto libro tractare intendit de illo capitali vicio quod Gula dicitur, nec non et de eiusdem duabus solummodo speciebus, videlicet Ebrietate et Delicacia, ex quibus humane concupiscencie oblectamentum habundancius augmentatur.In Paradis it was mystymed:Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,His swete morscel was to hot,Which dedly made the mankinde.And in the bokes as I finde,This vice, which so out of ruleHath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;70210P. iii. 2Of which the branches ben so grete,That of hem alle I wol noght trete,Bot only as touchende of tuo703I thenke speke and of no mo;[i.Drunkenness.]Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.Ful many a wonder doth this vice,He can make of a wisman nyce,And of a fool, that him schal semeThat he can al the lawe deme,20And yiven every juggementWhich longeth to the firmamentBothe of the sterre and of the mone;And thus he makth a gret clerk soneOf him that is a lewed man.Ther is nothing which he ne can,Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,He is a noble man of armes,And yit no strengthe is in his armes:30Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,And al is changed his astat,And wext anon so fieble and mat,704That he mai nouther go ne come,Bot al togedre him is benomeThe pouer bothe of hond and fot,So that algate abide he mot.And alle hise wittes he foryet,The which is to him such a let,40P. iii. 3That he wot nevere what he doth,Ne which is fals, ne which is soth,Ne which is dai, ne which is nyht,And for the time he knowth no wyht,705That he ne wot so moche as this,What maner thing himselven is,Or he be man, or he be beste.That holde I riht a sori feste,Whan he that reson understodSo soudeinliche is woxe wod,50Or elles lich the dede man,Which nouther go ne speke can.Thus ofte he is to bedde broght,Bot where he lith yit wot he noght,Til he arise upon the morwe;And thanne he seith, ‘O, which a sorweIt is a man be drinkeles!’706So that halfdrunke in such a resWith dreie mouth he sterte him uppe,707And seith, ‘Noubaillez çathe cuppe.’60That made him lese his wit at eveIs thanne a morwe al his beleve;The cuppe is al that evere him pleseth,And also that him most deseseth;It is the cuppe whom he serveth,Which alle cares fro him kerveth708And alle bales to him bringeth:In joie he wepth, in sorwe he singeth,For Dronkeschipe is so divers,709It may no whyle stonde in vers.70P. iii. 4He drinkth the wyn, bot ate lasteThe wyn drynkth him and bint him faste,And leith him drunke be the wal,As him which is his bonde thralAnd al in his subjeccion.[Love-Drunkenness.]And lich to such condicion,As forto speke it other wise,It falleth that the moste wiseBen otherwhile of love adoted,710And so bewhaped and assoted,80Of drunke men that nevere yitWas non, which half so loste his witOf drinke, as thei of such thing doWhich cleped is the jolif wo;And waxen of here oghne thoghtSo drunke, that thei knowe noght711What reson is, or more or lesse.Such is the kinde of that sieknesse,And that is noght for lacke of brain,Bot love is of so gret a main,90That where he takth an herte on honde,Ther mai nothing his miht withstonde:The wise Salomon was nome,And stronge Sampson overcome,The knihtli David him ne mihteRescoue, that he with the sihteOf Bersabee ne was bestad,Virgile also was overlad,And Aristotle was put under.Forthi, mi Sone, it is no wonder100P. iii. 5If thou be drunke of love among,712Which is above alle othre strong:And if so is that thou so be,Tell me thi Schrifte in privite;It is no schame of such a thewA yong man to be dronkelew.Of such Phisique I can a part,And as me semeth be that art,Thou scholdest be PhisonomieBe schapen to that maladie110Of lovedrunke, and that is routhe.Confessio Amantis.Ha, holi fader, al is troutheThat ye me telle: I am beknoweThat I with love am so bethrowe,And al myn herte is so thurgh sunke,That I amverrailiche drunke,And yit I mai bothe speke and go.Bot I am overcome so,And torned fro miself so clene,That ofte I wot noght what I mene;120So that excusen I ne maiMin herte, fro the ferste dayThat I cam to mi ladi kiththe,I was yit sobre nevere siththe.Wher I hire se or se hire noght,With musinge of min oghne thoght,Of love, which min herte assaileth,So drunke I am, that mi wit failethAnd al mi brain is overtorned,And mi manere so mistorned,130P. iii. 6That I foryete al that I canAnd stonde lich a mased man;That ofte, whanne I scholde pleie,It makth me drawe out of the weieIn soulein place be miselve,As doth a labourer to delve,Which can no gentil mannes chere;Or elles as a lewed Frere,Whan he is put to his penance,Riht so lese I mi contienance.140And if it nedes so betyde,That I in compainie abyde,Wher as I moste daunce and singeThe hovedance and carolinge,Or forto go the newefot,713I mai noght wel heve up mi fot,If that sche be noght in the weie;For thanne is al mi merthe aweie,And waxe anon of thoght so full,Wherof mi limes ben so dull,150I mai unethes gon the pas.714For thus it is and evere was,715Whanne I on suche thoghtes muse,The lust and merthe that men use,Whan I se noght mi ladi byme,Al is foryete for the timeSo ferforth that mi wittes changenAnd alle lustes fro me strangen,That thei seie alle trewely,And swere, that it am noght I.716160P. iii. 7For as the man which ofte drinketh,With win that in his stomac sinketh717Wext drunke and witles for a throwe,Riht so mi lust is overthrowe,And of myn oghne thoght so matI wexe, that to myn astatTher is no lime wol me serve,Bot as a drunke man I swerve,And suffre such a Passion,That men have gret compassion,170And everich be himself merveillethWhat thing it is that me so eilleth.718Such is the manere of mi woWhich time that I am hire fro,Til eft ayein that I hire se.Bot thanne it were a nyceteTo telle you hou that I fare:For whanne I mai upon hire stare,Hire wommanhede, hire gentilesse,Myn herte is full of such gladnesse,180That overpasseth so mi wit,That I wot nevere where it sit,Bot am so drunken of that sihte,Me thenkth that for the time I mihteRiht sterte thurgh the hole wall;And thanne I mai wel, if I schal,Bothe singe and daunce and lepe aboute,And holde forth the lusti route.Bot natheles it falleth soFulofte, that I fro hire go190P. iii. 8Ne mai, bot as it were a stake,I stonde avisement to takeAnd loke upon hire faire face;That for the while out of the placeFor al the world ne myhte I wende.Such lust comth thanne into mi mende,So that withoute mete or drinke,719Of lusti thoughtes whiche I thinkeMe thenkth I mihte stonden evere;And so it were to me levere200Than such a sihte forto leve,If that sche wolde yif me leve720To have so mochel of mi wille.And thus thenkende I stonde stilleWithoute blenchinge of myn yhe,Riht as me thoghte that I syheOf Paradis the moste joie:And so therwhile I me rejoie,Into myn herte a gret desir,721The which is hotere than the fyr,210Al soudeinliche upon me renneth,That al mi thoght withinne brenneth,And am so ferforth overcome,That I not where I am become;So that among the hetes stronge722In stede of drinke I underfongeA thoght so swete in mi corage,That nevere Pyment ne vernageWas half so swete forto drinke.For as I wolde, thanne I thinke220P. iii. 9As thogh I were at myn above,For so thurgh drunke I am of love,That al that mi sotye demethIs soth, as thanne it to me semeth.And whyle I mai tho thoghtes kepe,Me thenkth as thogh I were aslepeAnd that I were in goddes barm;Bot whanne I se myn oghne harm,And that I soudeinliche awakeOut of my thought, and hiede take230Hou that the sothe stant in dede,Thanne is mi sekernesse in dredeAnd joie torned into wo,So that the hete is al agoOf such sotie as I was inne.723And thanne ayeinward I beginneTo take of love a newe thorst,The which me grieveth altherworst,For thanne comth the blanche fievere,With chele and makth me so to chievere,240And so it coldeth at myn herte,724That wonder is hou I asterte,725In such a point that I ne deie:For certes ther was nevere keieNe frosen ys upon the walMore inly cold than I am al.And thus soffre I the hote chele,Which passeth othre peines fele;In cold I brenne and frese in hete:And thanne I drinke a biter swete250P. iii. 10With dreie lippe and yhen wete.Lo, thus I tempre mi diete,And take a drauhte of such reles,That al mi wit is herteles,And al myn herte, ther it sit,Is, as who seith, withoute wit;So that to prove it be resonIn makinge of comparisonTher mai no difference beBetwen a drunke man and me.260Bot al the worste of everychonIs evere that I thurste in on;726The more that myn herte drinketh,The more I may; so that me thinketh,My thurst schal nevere ben aqueint.God schilde that I be noght dreintOf such a superfluite:For wel I fiele in mi degreThat al mi wit is overcast,Wherof I am the more agast,270That in defaulte of ladischipePer chance in such a drunkeschipeI mai be ded er I be war.For certes, fader, this I darBeknowe and in mi schrifte telle:Bot I a drauhte have of that welle,In which mi deth is and mi lif,Mi joie is torned into strif,That sobre schal I nevere worthe,Bot as a drunke man forworthe;280P. iii. 11So that in londe where I fare727The lust is lore of mi welfare,As he that mai no bote finde.Bot this me thenkth a wonder kinde,As I am drunke of that I drinke,728So am I ek for falte of drinke;Of which I finde no reles:Bot if I myhte nathelesOf such a drinke as I coveite,So as me liste, have o receite,290I scholde assobre and fare wel.Bot so fortune upon hire whielOn hih me deigneth noght to sette,For everemore I finde a lette:The boteler is noght mi frend,Which hath the keie be the bend;I mai wel wisshe and that is wast,729For wel I wot, so freissh a tast,Bot if mi grace be the more,I schal assaie neveremore.300Thus am I drunke of that I se,For tastinge is defended me,And I can noght miselven stanche:So that, mi fader, of this brancheI am gultif, to telle trouthe.Confessor.Mi Sone, that me thenketh routhe;For lovedrunke is the meschiefAbove alle othre the most chief,If he no lusti thoght assaie,Which mai his sori thurst allaie:310P. iii. 12As for the time yit it lissethTo him which other joie misseth.Forthi, mi Sone, aboven alleThenk wel, hou so it the befalle,And kep thi wittes that thou hast,And let hem noght be drunke in wast:Bot natheles ther is no wyhtThat mai withstonde loves miht.Bot why the cause is, as I finde,Of that ther is diverse kinde320Of lovedrunke, why men pleignethAfter the court which al ordeigneth,I wol the tellen the manere;Nou lest, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere.[Jupiter’s Two Tuns.]For the fortune of every chanceAfter the goddes pourveanceHic narrat secundum Poetam, qualiter in suo celario Iupiter duo dolea habet, quorum primum liquoris dulcissimi, secundum amarissimi plenum consistit, ita quod ille cui fatata est prosperitas de dulci potabit, alter vero, cui aduersabitur, poculum gustabit amaram.To man it groweth from above,So that the sped of every loveIs schape there, er it befalle.730For Jupiter aboven alle,330Which is of goddes soverein,Hath in his celier, as men sein,Tuo tonnes fulle of love drinke,That maken many an herte sinkeAnd many an herte also to flete,Or of the soure or of the swete.That on is full of such piment,Which passeth all entendementOf mannes witt, if he it taste,731And makth a jolif herte in haste:340P. iii. 13That other biter as the galle,Which makth a mannes herte palle,Whos drunkeschipe is a sieknesseThurgh fielinge of the biternesse.Cupide is boteler of bothe,Which to the lieve and to the lotheYifth of the swete and of the soure,That some lawhe, and some loure.But for so moche as he blind is,Fulofte time he goth amis350And takth the badde for the goode,Which hindreth many a mannes fodeWithoute cause, and forthreth eke.So be ther some of love seke,732Whiche oghte of reson to ben hole,And some comen to the doleIn happ and as hemselve leste733Drinke undeserved of the beste.734And thus this blinde BotelerYifth of the trouble in stede of cler360And ek the cler in stede of trouble:Lo, hou he can the hertes trouble,And makth men drunke al upon chaunce735Withoute lawe of governance.If he drawe of the swete tonne,Thanne is the sorwe al overronneOf lovedrunke, and schalt noght greven736So to be drunken every even,For al is thanne bot a game.Bot whanne it is noght of the same,370P. iii. 14And he the biter tonne draweth,Such drunkeschipe an herte gnawethAnd fiebleth al a mannes thoght,That betre him were have drunke noghtAnd al his bred have eten dreie;For thanne he lest his lusti weie737With drunkeschipe, and wot noght whiderTo go, the weies ben so slider,In which he mai per cas so falle,738That he schal breke his wittes alle.380And in this wise men be drunkeAfter the drink that thei have drunke:739Bot alle drinken noght alike,For som schal singe and som schal syke,So that it me nothing merveilleth,Mi Sone, of love that thee eilleth;For wel I knowe be thi tale,740That thou hast drunken of the duale,Which biter is, til god the sendeSuch grace that thou miht amende.390[Prayer. Bacchus in the Desert.]Bot, Sone, thou schalt bidde and preieIn such a wise as I schal seie,That thou the lusti welle atteigneThi wofull thurstes to restreigneOf love, and taste the swetnesse;As Bachus dede in his distresse,Whan bodiliche thurst him henteNota hic qualiter potus aliquando sicienti precibus adquiritur. Et narrat in exemplum quod, cum Bachus de quodam bello ab oriente repatrians in quibusdam Lubie partibus alicuius generis potum non inuenit, fusis ad Iouem precibus, apparuit ei Aries, qui terram pede percussit,742statimque fons emanauit; et sic potum petenti peticio preualuit.In strange londes where he wente.This Bachus Sone of JupiterWas hote, and as he wente fer400P. iii. 15Be his fadres assignementTo make a werre in Orient,And gret pouer with him he ladde,So that the heiere hond he haddeAnd victoire of his enemys,And torneth homward with his pris,In such a contre which was dreieA meschief fell upon the weie.741As he rod with his compainieNyh to the strondes of Lubie,410Ther myhte thei no drinke findeOf water nor of other kinde,So that himself and al his hostWere of defalte of drinke almost743Destruid, and thanne Bachus preideTo Jupiter, and thus he seide:‘O hihe fader, that sest al,To whom is reson that I schalBeseche and preie in every nede,Behold, mi fader, and tak hiede420This wofull thurst that we ben inne744To staunche, and grante ous forto winne,And sauf unto the contre fare,Wher that oure lusti loves areWaitende upon oure hom cominge.’And with the vois of his preiynge,Which herd was to the goddes hihe,He syh anon tofore his yheA wether, which the ground hath sporned;And wher he hath it overtorned,430P. iii. 16Ther sprang a welle freissh and cler,Wherof his oghne botelerAfter the lustes of his willeWas every man to drinke his fille.745And for this ilke grete graceBachus upon the same placeA riche temple let arere,Which evere scholde stonde thereTo thursti men in remembrance.Confessor.Forthi, mi Sone, after this chance440It sit thee wel to taken hiedeSo forto preie upon thi nede,746As Bachus preide for the welle;And thenk, as thou hast herd me telle,Hou grace he gradde and grace he hadde.He was no fol that ferst so radde,For selden get a domb man lond:Tak that proverbe, and understondThat wordes ben of vertu grete.Forthi to speke thou ne lete,450And axe and prei erli and lateThi thurst to quenche, and thenk algate,The boteler which berth the keieIs blind, as thou hast herd me seie;And if it mihte so betyde,That he upon the blinde sidePer cas the swete tonne arauhte,Than schalt thou have a lusti drauhteAnd waxe of lovedrunke sobre.And thus I rede thou assobre460P. iii. 17Thin herte in hope of such a grace;For drunkeschipe in every place,To whether side that it torne,747Doth harm and makth a man to sporneAnd ofte falle in such a wise,Wher he per cas mai noght arise.[Love-Drunkenness. Tristram.]And forto loke in evidenceUpon the sothe experience,Hic de amoris ebrietate ponit exemplum, qualiter Tristrans ob potum,749quem Brangweyne in naui ei porrexit, de amore Bele Isolde inebriatus extitit.So as it hath befalle er this,748In every mannes mouth it is470Hou Tristram was of love drunkeWith Bele Ysolde, whan thei drunkeThe drink which Brangwein hem betok,Er that king Marc his Eem hire tokTo wyve, as it was after knowe.And ek, mi Sone, if thou wolt knowe,As it hath fallen overmoreIn loves cause, and what is moreOf drunkeschipe forto drede,As it whilom befell in dede,480Wherof thou miht the betre eschuieOf drunke men that thou ne suieThe compaignie in no manere,A gret ensample thou schalt hiere.[Marriage of Pirithous.]This finde I write in PoesieOf thilke faire Ipotacie,Hic de periculis ebrietatis causa in amore contingentibus750narrat quod, cum Pirothous illam pulcherimam Ypotaciam in vxorem duceret, quosdam qui Centauri vocabantur inter alios vicinos ad nupcias inuitauit; qui vino imbuti, noue nupte formositatem aspicientes, duplici ebrietate insanierunt, ita quod ipsi subito salientes a mensa Ipotaciam a Pirothoo marito suo in752impetu rapuerunt.Of whos beaute ther as sche wasSpak every man,—and fell per cas,That Pirotoüs so him spedde,That he to wyve hire scholde wedde,490P. iii. 18Wherof that he gret joie made.And for he wolde his love glade,Ayein the day of mariageBe mouthe bothe and be messageHise frendes to the feste he preide,751With gret worschipe and, as men seide,He hath this yonge ladi spoused.And whan that thei were alle housed,And set and served ate mete,Ther was no wyn which mai be gete,753500That ther ne was plente ynouh:Bot Bachus thilke tonne drouh,Wherof be weie of drunkeschipeThe greteste of the felaschipeWere oute of reson overtake;And Venus, which hath also takeThe cause most in special,Hath yove hem drinke forth withal754Of thilke cuppe which excitethThe lust wherinne a man deliteth:510And thus be double weie drunke,Of lust that ilke fyri funkeHath mad hem, as who seith, halfwode,755That thei no reson understode,Ne to non other thing thei syhen,Bot hire, which tofore here yhenWas wedded thilke same day,That freisshe wif, that lusti May,On hire it was al that thei thoghten.756And so ferforth here lustes soghten,520P. iii. 19That thei the whiche named wereCentauri, ate feste thereOf on assent, of on acordThis yonge wif malgre hire lordIn such a rage awei forth ladden,As thei whiche non insihte haddenBot only to her drunke fare,Which many a man hath mad misfareIn love als wel as other weie.Wherof, if I schal more seie530Upon the nature of the vice,757Of custume and of excerciceThe mannes grace hou it fordoth,A tale, which was whilom soth,Of fooles that so drunken were,I schal reherce unto thine Ere.
P. iii. 1[Gluttony.]i.Est gula que nostrum maculauit prima parentemEx vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo.Hec agit vt corpus anime contraria spirat,Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,Potibus ebrietas conuiciata ruit.Mersa sopore, labris, que Bachus inebriat hospes,Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.The grete Senne original,Which every man in generalUpon his berthe hath envenymed,Hic in sexto libro tractare intendit de illo capitali vicio quod Gula dicitur, nec non et de eiusdem duabus solummodo speciebus, videlicet Ebrietate et Delicacia, ex quibus humane concupiscencie oblectamentum habundancius augmentatur.In Paradis it was mystymed:Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,His swete morscel was to hot,Which dedly made the mankinde.And in the bokes as I finde,This vice, which so out of ruleHath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;70210P. iii. 2Of which the branches ben so grete,That of hem alle I wol noght trete,Bot only as touchende of tuo703I thenke speke and of no mo;[i.Drunkenness.]Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.Ful many a wonder doth this vice,He can make of a wisman nyce,And of a fool, that him schal semeThat he can al the lawe deme,20And yiven every juggementWhich longeth to the firmamentBothe of the sterre and of the mone;And thus he makth a gret clerk soneOf him that is a lewed man.Ther is nothing which he ne can,Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,He is a noble man of armes,And yit no strengthe is in his armes:30Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,And al is changed his astat,And wext anon so fieble and mat,704That he mai nouther go ne come,Bot al togedre him is benomeThe pouer bothe of hond and fot,So that algate abide he mot.And alle hise wittes he foryet,The which is to him such a let,40P. iii. 3That he wot nevere what he doth,Ne which is fals, ne which is soth,Ne which is dai, ne which is nyht,And for the time he knowth no wyht,705That he ne wot so moche as this,What maner thing himselven is,Or he be man, or he be beste.That holde I riht a sori feste,Whan he that reson understodSo soudeinliche is woxe wod,50Or elles lich the dede man,Which nouther go ne speke can.Thus ofte he is to bedde broght,Bot where he lith yit wot he noght,Til he arise upon the morwe;And thanne he seith, ‘O, which a sorweIt is a man be drinkeles!’706So that halfdrunke in such a resWith dreie mouth he sterte him uppe,707And seith, ‘Noubaillez çathe cuppe.’60That made him lese his wit at eveIs thanne a morwe al his beleve;The cuppe is al that evere him pleseth,And also that him most deseseth;It is the cuppe whom he serveth,Which alle cares fro him kerveth708And alle bales to him bringeth:In joie he wepth, in sorwe he singeth,For Dronkeschipe is so divers,709It may no whyle stonde in vers.70P. iii. 4He drinkth the wyn, bot ate lasteThe wyn drynkth him and bint him faste,And leith him drunke be the wal,As him which is his bonde thralAnd al in his subjeccion.[Love-Drunkenness.]And lich to such condicion,As forto speke it other wise,It falleth that the moste wiseBen otherwhile of love adoted,710And so bewhaped and assoted,80Of drunke men that nevere yitWas non, which half so loste his witOf drinke, as thei of such thing doWhich cleped is the jolif wo;And waxen of here oghne thoghtSo drunke, that thei knowe noght711What reson is, or more or lesse.Such is the kinde of that sieknesse,And that is noght for lacke of brain,Bot love is of so gret a main,90That where he takth an herte on honde,Ther mai nothing his miht withstonde:The wise Salomon was nome,And stronge Sampson overcome,The knihtli David him ne mihteRescoue, that he with the sihteOf Bersabee ne was bestad,Virgile also was overlad,And Aristotle was put under.Forthi, mi Sone, it is no wonder100P. iii. 5If thou be drunke of love among,712Which is above alle othre strong:And if so is that thou so be,Tell me thi Schrifte in privite;It is no schame of such a thewA yong man to be dronkelew.Of such Phisique I can a part,And as me semeth be that art,Thou scholdest be PhisonomieBe schapen to that maladie110Of lovedrunke, and that is routhe.Confessio Amantis.Ha, holi fader, al is troutheThat ye me telle: I am beknoweThat I with love am so bethrowe,And al myn herte is so thurgh sunke,That I amverrailiche drunke,And yit I mai bothe speke and go.Bot I am overcome so,And torned fro miself so clene,That ofte I wot noght what I mene;120So that excusen I ne maiMin herte, fro the ferste dayThat I cam to mi ladi kiththe,I was yit sobre nevere siththe.Wher I hire se or se hire noght,With musinge of min oghne thoght,Of love, which min herte assaileth,So drunke I am, that mi wit failethAnd al mi brain is overtorned,And mi manere so mistorned,130P. iii. 6That I foryete al that I canAnd stonde lich a mased man;That ofte, whanne I scholde pleie,It makth me drawe out of the weieIn soulein place be miselve,As doth a labourer to delve,Which can no gentil mannes chere;Or elles as a lewed Frere,Whan he is put to his penance,Riht so lese I mi contienance.140And if it nedes so betyde,That I in compainie abyde,Wher as I moste daunce and singeThe hovedance and carolinge,Or forto go the newefot,713I mai noght wel heve up mi fot,If that sche be noght in the weie;For thanne is al mi merthe aweie,And waxe anon of thoght so full,Wherof mi limes ben so dull,150I mai unethes gon the pas.714For thus it is and evere was,715Whanne I on suche thoghtes muse,The lust and merthe that men use,Whan I se noght mi ladi byme,Al is foryete for the timeSo ferforth that mi wittes changenAnd alle lustes fro me strangen,That thei seie alle trewely,And swere, that it am noght I.716160P. iii. 7For as the man which ofte drinketh,With win that in his stomac sinketh717Wext drunke and witles for a throwe,Riht so mi lust is overthrowe,And of myn oghne thoght so matI wexe, that to myn astatTher is no lime wol me serve,Bot as a drunke man I swerve,And suffre such a Passion,That men have gret compassion,170And everich be himself merveillethWhat thing it is that me so eilleth.718Such is the manere of mi woWhich time that I am hire fro,Til eft ayein that I hire se.Bot thanne it were a nyceteTo telle you hou that I fare:For whanne I mai upon hire stare,Hire wommanhede, hire gentilesse,Myn herte is full of such gladnesse,180That overpasseth so mi wit,That I wot nevere where it sit,Bot am so drunken of that sihte,Me thenkth that for the time I mihteRiht sterte thurgh the hole wall;And thanne I mai wel, if I schal,Bothe singe and daunce and lepe aboute,And holde forth the lusti route.Bot natheles it falleth soFulofte, that I fro hire go190P. iii. 8Ne mai, bot as it were a stake,I stonde avisement to takeAnd loke upon hire faire face;That for the while out of the placeFor al the world ne myhte I wende.Such lust comth thanne into mi mende,So that withoute mete or drinke,719Of lusti thoughtes whiche I thinkeMe thenkth I mihte stonden evere;And so it were to me levere200Than such a sihte forto leve,If that sche wolde yif me leve720To have so mochel of mi wille.And thus thenkende I stonde stilleWithoute blenchinge of myn yhe,Riht as me thoghte that I syheOf Paradis the moste joie:And so therwhile I me rejoie,Into myn herte a gret desir,721The which is hotere than the fyr,210Al soudeinliche upon me renneth,That al mi thoght withinne brenneth,And am so ferforth overcome,That I not where I am become;So that among the hetes stronge722In stede of drinke I underfongeA thoght so swete in mi corage,That nevere Pyment ne vernageWas half so swete forto drinke.For as I wolde, thanne I thinke220P. iii. 9As thogh I were at myn above,For so thurgh drunke I am of love,That al that mi sotye demethIs soth, as thanne it to me semeth.And whyle I mai tho thoghtes kepe,Me thenkth as thogh I were aslepeAnd that I were in goddes barm;Bot whanne I se myn oghne harm,And that I soudeinliche awakeOut of my thought, and hiede take230Hou that the sothe stant in dede,Thanne is mi sekernesse in dredeAnd joie torned into wo,So that the hete is al agoOf such sotie as I was inne.723And thanne ayeinward I beginneTo take of love a newe thorst,The which me grieveth altherworst,For thanne comth the blanche fievere,With chele and makth me so to chievere,240And so it coldeth at myn herte,724That wonder is hou I asterte,725In such a point that I ne deie:For certes ther was nevere keieNe frosen ys upon the walMore inly cold than I am al.And thus soffre I the hote chele,Which passeth othre peines fele;In cold I brenne and frese in hete:And thanne I drinke a biter swete250P. iii. 10With dreie lippe and yhen wete.Lo, thus I tempre mi diete,And take a drauhte of such reles,That al mi wit is herteles,And al myn herte, ther it sit,Is, as who seith, withoute wit;So that to prove it be resonIn makinge of comparisonTher mai no difference beBetwen a drunke man and me.260Bot al the worste of everychonIs evere that I thurste in on;726The more that myn herte drinketh,The more I may; so that me thinketh,My thurst schal nevere ben aqueint.God schilde that I be noght dreintOf such a superfluite:For wel I fiele in mi degreThat al mi wit is overcast,Wherof I am the more agast,270That in defaulte of ladischipePer chance in such a drunkeschipeI mai be ded er I be war.For certes, fader, this I darBeknowe and in mi schrifte telle:Bot I a drauhte have of that welle,In which mi deth is and mi lif,Mi joie is torned into strif,That sobre schal I nevere worthe,Bot as a drunke man forworthe;280P. iii. 11So that in londe where I fare727The lust is lore of mi welfare,As he that mai no bote finde.Bot this me thenkth a wonder kinde,As I am drunke of that I drinke,728So am I ek for falte of drinke;Of which I finde no reles:Bot if I myhte nathelesOf such a drinke as I coveite,So as me liste, have o receite,290I scholde assobre and fare wel.Bot so fortune upon hire whielOn hih me deigneth noght to sette,For everemore I finde a lette:The boteler is noght mi frend,Which hath the keie be the bend;I mai wel wisshe and that is wast,729For wel I wot, so freissh a tast,Bot if mi grace be the more,I schal assaie neveremore.300Thus am I drunke of that I se,For tastinge is defended me,And I can noght miselven stanche:So that, mi fader, of this brancheI am gultif, to telle trouthe.Confessor.Mi Sone, that me thenketh routhe;For lovedrunke is the meschiefAbove alle othre the most chief,If he no lusti thoght assaie,Which mai his sori thurst allaie:310P. iii. 12As for the time yit it lissethTo him which other joie misseth.Forthi, mi Sone, aboven alleThenk wel, hou so it the befalle,And kep thi wittes that thou hast,And let hem noght be drunke in wast:Bot natheles ther is no wyhtThat mai withstonde loves miht.Bot why the cause is, as I finde,Of that ther is diverse kinde320Of lovedrunke, why men pleignethAfter the court which al ordeigneth,I wol the tellen the manere;Nou lest, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere.[Jupiter’s Two Tuns.]For the fortune of every chanceAfter the goddes pourveanceHic narrat secundum Poetam, qualiter in suo celario Iupiter duo dolea habet, quorum primum liquoris dulcissimi, secundum amarissimi plenum consistit, ita quod ille cui fatata est prosperitas de dulci potabit, alter vero, cui aduersabitur, poculum gustabit amaram.To man it groweth from above,So that the sped of every loveIs schape there, er it befalle.730For Jupiter aboven alle,330Which is of goddes soverein,Hath in his celier, as men sein,Tuo tonnes fulle of love drinke,That maken many an herte sinkeAnd many an herte also to flete,Or of the soure or of the swete.That on is full of such piment,Which passeth all entendementOf mannes witt, if he it taste,731And makth a jolif herte in haste:340P. iii. 13That other biter as the galle,Which makth a mannes herte palle,Whos drunkeschipe is a sieknesseThurgh fielinge of the biternesse.Cupide is boteler of bothe,Which to the lieve and to the lotheYifth of the swete and of the soure,That some lawhe, and some loure.But for so moche as he blind is,Fulofte time he goth amis350And takth the badde for the goode,Which hindreth many a mannes fodeWithoute cause, and forthreth eke.So be ther some of love seke,732Whiche oghte of reson to ben hole,And some comen to the doleIn happ and as hemselve leste733Drinke undeserved of the beste.734And thus this blinde BotelerYifth of the trouble in stede of cler360And ek the cler in stede of trouble:Lo, hou he can the hertes trouble,And makth men drunke al upon chaunce735Withoute lawe of governance.If he drawe of the swete tonne,Thanne is the sorwe al overronneOf lovedrunke, and schalt noght greven736So to be drunken every even,For al is thanne bot a game.Bot whanne it is noght of the same,370P. iii. 14And he the biter tonne draweth,Such drunkeschipe an herte gnawethAnd fiebleth al a mannes thoght,That betre him were have drunke noghtAnd al his bred have eten dreie;For thanne he lest his lusti weie737With drunkeschipe, and wot noght whiderTo go, the weies ben so slider,In which he mai per cas so falle,738That he schal breke his wittes alle.380And in this wise men be drunkeAfter the drink that thei have drunke:739Bot alle drinken noght alike,For som schal singe and som schal syke,So that it me nothing merveilleth,Mi Sone, of love that thee eilleth;For wel I knowe be thi tale,740That thou hast drunken of the duale,Which biter is, til god the sendeSuch grace that thou miht amende.390[Prayer. Bacchus in the Desert.]Bot, Sone, thou schalt bidde and preieIn such a wise as I schal seie,That thou the lusti welle atteigneThi wofull thurstes to restreigneOf love, and taste the swetnesse;As Bachus dede in his distresse,Whan bodiliche thurst him henteNota hic qualiter potus aliquando sicienti precibus adquiritur. Et narrat in exemplum quod, cum Bachus de quodam bello ab oriente repatrians in quibusdam Lubie partibus alicuius generis potum non inuenit, fusis ad Iouem precibus, apparuit ei Aries, qui terram pede percussit,742statimque fons emanauit; et sic potum petenti peticio preualuit.In strange londes where he wente.This Bachus Sone of JupiterWas hote, and as he wente fer400P. iii. 15Be his fadres assignementTo make a werre in Orient,And gret pouer with him he ladde,So that the heiere hond he haddeAnd victoire of his enemys,And torneth homward with his pris,In such a contre which was dreieA meschief fell upon the weie.741As he rod with his compainieNyh to the strondes of Lubie,410Ther myhte thei no drinke findeOf water nor of other kinde,So that himself and al his hostWere of defalte of drinke almost743Destruid, and thanne Bachus preideTo Jupiter, and thus he seide:‘O hihe fader, that sest al,To whom is reson that I schalBeseche and preie in every nede,Behold, mi fader, and tak hiede420This wofull thurst that we ben inne744To staunche, and grante ous forto winne,And sauf unto the contre fare,Wher that oure lusti loves areWaitende upon oure hom cominge.’And with the vois of his preiynge,Which herd was to the goddes hihe,He syh anon tofore his yheA wether, which the ground hath sporned;And wher he hath it overtorned,430P. iii. 16Ther sprang a welle freissh and cler,Wherof his oghne botelerAfter the lustes of his willeWas every man to drinke his fille.745And for this ilke grete graceBachus upon the same placeA riche temple let arere,Which evere scholde stonde thereTo thursti men in remembrance.Confessor.Forthi, mi Sone, after this chance440It sit thee wel to taken hiedeSo forto preie upon thi nede,746As Bachus preide for the welle;And thenk, as thou hast herd me telle,Hou grace he gradde and grace he hadde.He was no fol that ferst so radde,For selden get a domb man lond:Tak that proverbe, and understondThat wordes ben of vertu grete.Forthi to speke thou ne lete,450And axe and prei erli and lateThi thurst to quenche, and thenk algate,The boteler which berth the keieIs blind, as thou hast herd me seie;And if it mihte so betyde,That he upon the blinde sidePer cas the swete tonne arauhte,Than schalt thou have a lusti drauhteAnd waxe of lovedrunke sobre.And thus I rede thou assobre460P. iii. 17Thin herte in hope of such a grace;For drunkeschipe in every place,To whether side that it torne,747Doth harm and makth a man to sporneAnd ofte falle in such a wise,Wher he per cas mai noght arise.[Love-Drunkenness. Tristram.]And forto loke in evidenceUpon the sothe experience,Hic de amoris ebrietate ponit exemplum, qualiter Tristrans ob potum,749quem Brangweyne in naui ei porrexit, de amore Bele Isolde inebriatus extitit.So as it hath befalle er this,748In every mannes mouth it is470Hou Tristram was of love drunkeWith Bele Ysolde, whan thei drunkeThe drink which Brangwein hem betok,Er that king Marc his Eem hire tokTo wyve, as it was after knowe.And ek, mi Sone, if thou wolt knowe,As it hath fallen overmoreIn loves cause, and what is moreOf drunkeschipe forto drede,As it whilom befell in dede,480Wherof thou miht the betre eschuieOf drunke men that thou ne suieThe compaignie in no manere,A gret ensample thou schalt hiere.[Marriage of Pirithous.]This finde I write in PoesieOf thilke faire Ipotacie,Hic de periculis ebrietatis causa in amore contingentibus750narrat quod, cum Pirothous illam pulcherimam Ypotaciam in vxorem duceret, quosdam qui Centauri vocabantur inter alios vicinos ad nupcias inuitauit; qui vino imbuti, noue nupte formositatem aspicientes, duplici ebrietate insanierunt, ita quod ipsi subito salientes a mensa Ipotaciam a Pirothoo marito suo in752impetu rapuerunt.Of whos beaute ther as sche wasSpak every man,—and fell per cas,That Pirotoüs so him spedde,That he to wyve hire scholde wedde,490P. iii. 18Wherof that he gret joie made.And for he wolde his love glade,Ayein the day of mariageBe mouthe bothe and be messageHise frendes to the feste he preide,751With gret worschipe and, as men seide,He hath this yonge ladi spoused.And whan that thei were alle housed,And set and served ate mete,Ther was no wyn which mai be gete,753500That ther ne was plente ynouh:Bot Bachus thilke tonne drouh,Wherof be weie of drunkeschipeThe greteste of the felaschipeWere oute of reson overtake;And Venus, which hath also takeThe cause most in special,Hath yove hem drinke forth withal754Of thilke cuppe which excitethThe lust wherinne a man deliteth:510And thus be double weie drunke,Of lust that ilke fyri funkeHath mad hem, as who seith, halfwode,755That thei no reson understode,Ne to non other thing thei syhen,Bot hire, which tofore here yhenWas wedded thilke same day,That freisshe wif, that lusti May,On hire it was al that thei thoghten.756And so ferforth here lustes soghten,520P. iii. 19That thei the whiche named wereCentauri, ate feste thereOf on assent, of on acordThis yonge wif malgre hire lordIn such a rage awei forth ladden,As thei whiche non insihte haddenBot only to her drunke fare,Which many a man hath mad misfareIn love als wel as other weie.Wherof, if I schal more seie530Upon the nature of the vice,757Of custume and of excerciceThe mannes grace hou it fordoth,A tale, which was whilom soth,Of fooles that so drunken were,I schal reherce unto thine Ere.
P. iii. 1[Gluttony.]i.Est gula que nostrum maculauit prima parentemEx vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo.Hec agit vt corpus anime contraria spirat,Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,Potibus ebrietas conuiciata ruit.Mersa sopore, labris, que Bachus inebriat hospes,Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.
P. iii. 1
[Gluttony.]
i.Est gula que nostrum maculauit prima parentem
Ex vetito pomo, quo dolet omnis homo.
Hec agit vt corpus anime contraria spirat,
Quo caro fit crassa, spiritus atque macer.
Intus et exterius si que virtutis habentur,
Potibus ebrietas conuiciata ruit.
Mersa sopore, labris, que Bachus inebriat hospes,
Indignata Venus oscula raro premit.
The grete Senne original,Which every man in generalUpon his berthe hath envenymed,Hic in sexto libro tractare intendit de illo capitali vicio quod Gula dicitur, nec non et de eiusdem duabus solummodo speciebus, videlicet Ebrietate et Delicacia, ex quibus humane concupiscencie oblectamentum habundancius augmentatur.In Paradis it was mystymed:Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,His swete morscel was to hot,Which dedly made the mankinde.And in the bokes as I finde,This vice, which so out of ruleHath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;70210P. iii. 2Of which the branches ben so grete,That of hem alle I wol noght trete,Bot only as touchende of tuo703I thenke speke and of no mo;[i.Drunkenness.]Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.Ful many a wonder doth this vice,He can make of a wisman nyce,And of a fool, that him schal semeThat he can al the lawe deme,20And yiven every juggementWhich longeth to the firmamentBothe of the sterre and of the mone;And thus he makth a gret clerk soneOf him that is a lewed man.Ther is nothing which he ne can,Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,He is a noble man of armes,And yit no strengthe is in his armes:30Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,And al is changed his astat,And wext anon so fieble and mat,704That he mai nouther go ne come,Bot al togedre him is benomeThe pouer bothe of hond and fot,So that algate abide he mot.And alle hise wittes he foryet,The which is to him such a let,40P. iii. 3That he wot nevere what he doth,Ne which is fals, ne which is soth,Ne which is dai, ne which is nyht,And for the time he knowth no wyht,705That he ne wot so moche as this,What maner thing himselven is,Or he be man, or he be beste.That holde I riht a sori feste,Whan he that reson understodSo soudeinliche is woxe wod,50Or elles lich the dede man,Which nouther go ne speke can.Thus ofte he is to bedde broght,Bot where he lith yit wot he noght,Til he arise upon the morwe;And thanne he seith, ‘O, which a sorweIt is a man be drinkeles!’706So that halfdrunke in such a resWith dreie mouth he sterte him uppe,707And seith, ‘Noubaillez çathe cuppe.’60That made him lese his wit at eveIs thanne a morwe al his beleve;The cuppe is al that evere him pleseth,And also that him most deseseth;It is the cuppe whom he serveth,Which alle cares fro him kerveth708And alle bales to him bringeth:In joie he wepth, in sorwe he singeth,For Dronkeschipe is so divers,709It may no whyle stonde in vers.70P. iii. 4He drinkth the wyn, bot ate lasteThe wyn drynkth him and bint him faste,And leith him drunke be the wal,As him which is his bonde thralAnd al in his subjeccion.[Love-Drunkenness.]And lich to such condicion,As forto speke it other wise,It falleth that the moste wiseBen otherwhile of love adoted,710And so bewhaped and assoted,80Of drunke men that nevere yitWas non, which half so loste his witOf drinke, as thei of such thing doWhich cleped is the jolif wo;And waxen of here oghne thoghtSo drunke, that thei knowe noght711What reson is, or more or lesse.Such is the kinde of that sieknesse,And that is noght for lacke of brain,Bot love is of so gret a main,90That where he takth an herte on honde,Ther mai nothing his miht withstonde:The wise Salomon was nome,And stronge Sampson overcome,The knihtli David him ne mihteRescoue, that he with the sihteOf Bersabee ne was bestad,Virgile also was overlad,And Aristotle was put under.Forthi, mi Sone, it is no wonder100P. iii. 5If thou be drunke of love among,712Which is above alle othre strong:And if so is that thou so be,Tell me thi Schrifte in privite;It is no schame of such a thewA yong man to be dronkelew.Of such Phisique I can a part,And as me semeth be that art,Thou scholdest be PhisonomieBe schapen to that maladie110Of lovedrunke, and that is routhe.Confessio Amantis.Ha, holi fader, al is troutheThat ye me telle: I am beknoweThat I with love am so bethrowe,And al myn herte is so thurgh sunke,That I amverrailiche drunke,And yit I mai bothe speke and go.Bot I am overcome so,And torned fro miself so clene,That ofte I wot noght what I mene;120So that excusen I ne maiMin herte, fro the ferste dayThat I cam to mi ladi kiththe,I was yit sobre nevere siththe.Wher I hire se or se hire noght,With musinge of min oghne thoght,Of love, which min herte assaileth,So drunke I am, that mi wit failethAnd al mi brain is overtorned,And mi manere so mistorned,130P. iii. 6That I foryete al that I canAnd stonde lich a mased man;That ofte, whanne I scholde pleie,It makth me drawe out of the weieIn soulein place be miselve,As doth a labourer to delve,Which can no gentil mannes chere;Or elles as a lewed Frere,Whan he is put to his penance,Riht so lese I mi contienance.140And if it nedes so betyde,That I in compainie abyde,Wher as I moste daunce and singeThe hovedance and carolinge,Or forto go the newefot,713I mai noght wel heve up mi fot,If that sche be noght in the weie;For thanne is al mi merthe aweie,And waxe anon of thoght so full,Wherof mi limes ben so dull,150I mai unethes gon the pas.714For thus it is and evere was,715Whanne I on suche thoghtes muse,The lust and merthe that men use,Whan I se noght mi ladi byme,Al is foryete for the timeSo ferforth that mi wittes changenAnd alle lustes fro me strangen,That thei seie alle trewely,And swere, that it am noght I.716160P. iii. 7For as the man which ofte drinketh,With win that in his stomac sinketh717Wext drunke and witles for a throwe,Riht so mi lust is overthrowe,And of myn oghne thoght so matI wexe, that to myn astatTher is no lime wol me serve,Bot as a drunke man I swerve,And suffre such a Passion,That men have gret compassion,170And everich be himself merveillethWhat thing it is that me so eilleth.718Such is the manere of mi woWhich time that I am hire fro,Til eft ayein that I hire se.Bot thanne it were a nyceteTo telle you hou that I fare:For whanne I mai upon hire stare,Hire wommanhede, hire gentilesse,Myn herte is full of such gladnesse,180That overpasseth so mi wit,That I wot nevere where it sit,Bot am so drunken of that sihte,Me thenkth that for the time I mihteRiht sterte thurgh the hole wall;And thanne I mai wel, if I schal,Bothe singe and daunce and lepe aboute,And holde forth the lusti route.Bot natheles it falleth soFulofte, that I fro hire go190P. iii. 8Ne mai, bot as it were a stake,I stonde avisement to takeAnd loke upon hire faire face;That for the while out of the placeFor al the world ne myhte I wende.Such lust comth thanne into mi mende,So that withoute mete or drinke,719Of lusti thoughtes whiche I thinkeMe thenkth I mihte stonden evere;And so it were to me levere200Than such a sihte forto leve,If that sche wolde yif me leve720To have so mochel of mi wille.And thus thenkende I stonde stilleWithoute blenchinge of myn yhe,Riht as me thoghte that I syheOf Paradis the moste joie:And so therwhile I me rejoie,Into myn herte a gret desir,721The which is hotere than the fyr,210Al soudeinliche upon me renneth,That al mi thoght withinne brenneth,And am so ferforth overcome,That I not where I am become;So that among the hetes stronge722In stede of drinke I underfongeA thoght so swete in mi corage,That nevere Pyment ne vernageWas half so swete forto drinke.For as I wolde, thanne I thinke220P. iii. 9As thogh I were at myn above,For so thurgh drunke I am of love,That al that mi sotye demethIs soth, as thanne it to me semeth.And whyle I mai tho thoghtes kepe,Me thenkth as thogh I were aslepeAnd that I were in goddes barm;Bot whanne I se myn oghne harm,And that I soudeinliche awakeOut of my thought, and hiede take230Hou that the sothe stant in dede,Thanne is mi sekernesse in dredeAnd joie torned into wo,So that the hete is al agoOf such sotie as I was inne.723And thanne ayeinward I beginneTo take of love a newe thorst,The which me grieveth altherworst,For thanne comth the blanche fievere,With chele and makth me so to chievere,240And so it coldeth at myn herte,724That wonder is hou I asterte,725In such a point that I ne deie:For certes ther was nevere keieNe frosen ys upon the walMore inly cold than I am al.And thus soffre I the hote chele,Which passeth othre peines fele;In cold I brenne and frese in hete:And thanne I drinke a biter swete250P. iii. 10With dreie lippe and yhen wete.Lo, thus I tempre mi diete,And take a drauhte of such reles,That al mi wit is herteles,And al myn herte, ther it sit,Is, as who seith, withoute wit;So that to prove it be resonIn makinge of comparisonTher mai no difference beBetwen a drunke man and me.260Bot al the worste of everychonIs evere that I thurste in on;726The more that myn herte drinketh,The more I may; so that me thinketh,My thurst schal nevere ben aqueint.God schilde that I be noght dreintOf such a superfluite:For wel I fiele in mi degreThat al mi wit is overcast,Wherof I am the more agast,270That in defaulte of ladischipePer chance in such a drunkeschipeI mai be ded er I be war.For certes, fader, this I darBeknowe and in mi schrifte telle:Bot I a drauhte have of that welle,In which mi deth is and mi lif,Mi joie is torned into strif,That sobre schal I nevere worthe,Bot as a drunke man forworthe;280P. iii. 11So that in londe where I fare727The lust is lore of mi welfare,As he that mai no bote finde.Bot this me thenkth a wonder kinde,As I am drunke of that I drinke,728So am I ek for falte of drinke;Of which I finde no reles:Bot if I myhte nathelesOf such a drinke as I coveite,So as me liste, have o receite,290I scholde assobre and fare wel.Bot so fortune upon hire whielOn hih me deigneth noght to sette,For everemore I finde a lette:The boteler is noght mi frend,Which hath the keie be the bend;I mai wel wisshe and that is wast,729For wel I wot, so freissh a tast,Bot if mi grace be the more,I schal assaie neveremore.300Thus am I drunke of that I se,For tastinge is defended me,And I can noght miselven stanche:So that, mi fader, of this brancheI am gultif, to telle trouthe.Confessor.Mi Sone, that me thenketh routhe;For lovedrunke is the meschiefAbove alle othre the most chief,If he no lusti thoght assaie,Which mai his sori thurst allaie:310P. iii. 12As for the time yit it lissethTo him which other joie misseth.Forthi, mi Sone, aboven alleThenk wel, hou so it the befalle,And kep thi wittes that thou hast,And let hem noght be drunke in wast:Bot natheles ther is no wyhtThat mai withstonde loves miht.Bot why the cause is, as I finde,Of that ther is diverse kinde320Of lovedrunke, why men pleignethAfter the court which al ordeigneth,I wol the tellen the manere;Nou lest, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere.[Jupiter’s Two Tuns.]For the fortune of every chanceAfter the goddes pourveanceHic narrat secundum Poetam, qualiter in suo celario Iupiter duo dolea habet, quorum primum liquoris dulcissimi, secundum amarissimi plenum consistit, ita quod ille cui fatata est prosperitas de dulci potabit, alter vero, cui aduersabitur, poculum gustabit amaram.To man it groweth from above,So that the sped of every loveIs schape there, er it befalle.730For Jupiter aboven alle,330Which is of goddes soverein,Hath in his celier, as men sein,Tuo tonnes fulle of love drinke,That maken many an herte sinkeAnd many an herte also to flete,Or of the soure or of the swete.That on is full of such piment,Which passeth all entendementOf mannes witt, if he it taste,731And makth a jolif herte in haste:340P. iii. 13That other biter as the galle,Which makth a mannes herte palle,Whos drunkeschipe is a sieknesseThurgh fielinge of the biternesse.Cupide is boteler of bothe,Which to the lieve and to the lotheYifth of the swete and of the soure,That some lawhe, and some loure.But for so moche as he blind is,Fulofte time he goth amis350And takth the badde for the goode,Which hindreth many a mannes fodeWithoute cause, and forthreth eke.So be ther some of love seke,732Whiche oghte of reson to ben hole,And some comen to the doleIn happ and as hemselve leste733Drinke undeserved of the beste.734And thus this blinde BotelerYifth of the trouble in stede of cler360And ek the cler in stede of trouble:Lo, hou he can the hertes trouble,And makth men drunke al upon chaunce735Withoute lawe of governance.If he drawe of the swete tonne,Thanne is the sorwe al overronneOf lovedrunke, and schalt noght greven736So to be drunken every even,For al is thanne bot a game.Bot whanne it is noght of the same,370P. iii. 14And he the biter tonne draweth,Such drunkeschipe an herte gnawethAnd fiebleth al a mannes thoght,That betre him were have drunke noghtAnd al his bred have eten dreie;For thanne he lest his lusti weie737With drunkeschipe, and wot noght whiderTo go, the weies ben so slider,In which he mai per cas so falle,738That he schal breke his wittes alle.380And in this wise men be drunkeAfter the drink that thei have drunke:739Bot alle drinken noght alike,For som schal singe and som schal syke,So that it me nothing merveilleth,Mi Sone, of love that thee eilleth;For wel I knowe be thi tale,740That thou hast drunken of the duale,Which biter is, til god the sendeSuch grace that thou miht amende.390[Prayer. Bacchus in the Desert.]Bot, Sone, thou schalt bidde and preieIn such a wise as I schal seie,That thou the lusti welle atteigneThi wofull thurstes to restreigneOf love, and taste the swetnesse;As Bachus dede in his distresse,Whan bodiliche thurst him henteNota hic qualiter potus aliquando sicienti precibus adquiritur. Et narrat in exemplum quod, cum Bachus de quodam bello ab oriente repatrians in quibusdam Lubie partibus alicuius generis potum non inuenit, fusis ad Iouem precibus, apparuit ei Aries, qui terram pede percussit,742statimque fons emanauit; et sic potum petenti peticio preualuit.In strange londes where he wente.This Bachus Sone of JupiterWas hote, and as he wente fer400P. iii. 15Be his fadres assignementTo make a werre in Orient,And gret pouer with him he ladde,So that the heiere hond he haddeAnd victoire of his enemys,And torneth homward with his pris,In such a contre which was dreieA meschief fell upon the weie.741As he rod with his compainieNyh to the strondes of Lubie,410Ther myhte thei no drinke findeOf water nor of other kinde,So that himself and al his hostWere of defalte of drinke almost743Destruid, and thanne Bachus preideTo Jupiter, and thus he seide:‘O hihe fader, that sest al,To whom is reson that I schalBeseche and preie in every nede,Behold, mi fader, and tak hiede420This wofull thurst that we ben inne744To staunche, and grante ous forto winne,And sauf unto the contre fare,Wher that oure lusti loves areWaitende upon oure hom cominge.’And with the vois of his preiynge,Which herd was to the goddes hihe,He syh anon tofore his yheA wether, which the ground hath sporned;And wher he hath it overtorned,430P. iii. 16Ther sprang a welle freissh and cler,Wherof his oghne botelerAfter the lustes of his willeWas every man to drinke his fille.745And for this ilke grete graceBachus upon the same placeA riche temple let arere,Which evere scholde stonde thereTo thursti men in remembrance.Confessor.Forthi, mi Sone, after this chance440It sit thee wel to taken hiedeSo forto preie upon thi nede,746As Bachus preide for the welle;And thenk, as thou hast herd me telle,Hou grace he gradde and grace he hadde.He was no fol that ferst so radde,For selden get a domb man lond:Tak that proverbe, and understondThat wordes ben of vertu grete.Forthi to speke thou ne lete,450And axe and prei erli and lateThi thurst to quenche, and thenk algate,The boteler which berth the keieIs blind, as thou hast herd me seie;And if it mihte so betyde,That he upon the blinde sidePer cas the swete tonne arauhte,Than schalt thou have a lusti drauhteAnd waxe of lovedrunke sobre.And thus I rede thou assobre460P. iii. 17Thin herte in hope of such a grace;For drunkeschipe in every place,To whether side that it torne,747Doth harm and makth a man to sporneAnd ofte falle in such a wise,Wher he per cas mai noght arise.[Love-Drunkenness. Tristram.]And forto loke in evidenceUpon the sothe experience,Hic de amoris ebrietate ponit exemplum, qualiter Tristrans ob potum,749quem Brangweyne in naui ei porrexit, de amore Bele Isolde inebriatus extitit.So as it hath befalle er this,748In every mannes mouth it is470Hou Tristram was of love drunkeWith Bele Ysolde, whan thei drunkeThe drink which Brangwein hem betok,Er that king Marc his Eem hire tokTo wyve, as it was after knowe.And ek, mi Sone, if thou wolt knowe,As it hath fallen overmoreIn loves cause, and what is moreOf drunkeschipe forto drede,As it whilom befell in dede,480Wherof thou miht the betre eschuieOf drunke men that thou ne suieThe compaignie in no manere,A gret ensample thou schalt hiere.
The grete Senne original,
Which every man in general
Upon his berthe hath envenymed,
Hic in sexto libro tractare intendit de illo capitali vicio quod Gula dicitur, nec non et de eiusdem duabus solummodo speciebus, videlicet Ebrietate et Delicacia, ex quibus humane concupiscencie oblectamentum habundancius augmentatur.
In Paradis it was mystymed:
Whan Adam of thilke Appel bot,
His swete morscel was to hot,
Which dedly made the mankinde.
And in the bokes as I finde,
This vice, which so out of rule
Hath sette ous alle, is cleped Gule;70210
P. iii. 2
Of which the branches ben so grete,
That of hem alle I wol noght trete,
Bot only as touchende of tuo703
I thenke speke and of no mo;
[i.Drunkenness.]
Wherof the ferste is Dronkeschipe,
Which berth the cuppe felaschipe.
Ful many a wonder doth this vice,
He can make of a wisman nyce,
And of a fool, that him schal seme
That he can al the lawe deme,20
And yiven every juggement
Which longeth to the firmament
Bothe of the sterre and of the mone;
And thus he makth a gret clerk sone
Of him that is a lewed man.
Ther is nothing which he ne can,
Whil he hath Dronkeschipe on honde,
He knowth the See, he knowth the stronde,
He is a noble man of armes,
And yit no strengthe is in his armes:30
Ther he was strong ynouh tofore,
With Dronkeschipe it is forlore,
And al is changed his astat,
And wext anon so fieble and mat,704
That he mai nouther go ne come,
Bot al togedre him is benome
The pouer bothe of hond and fot,
So that algate abide he mot.
And alle hise wittes he foryet,
The which is to him such a let,40
P. iii. 3
That he wot nevere what he doth,
Ne which is fals, ne which is soth,
Ne which is dai, ne which is nyht,
And for the time he knowth no wyht,705
That he ne wot so moche as this,
What maner thing himselven is,
Or he be man, or he be beste.
That holde I riht a sori feste,
Whan he that reson understod
So soudeinliche is woxe wod,50
Or elles lich the dede man,
Which nouther go ne speke can.
Thus ofte he is to bedde broght,
Bot where he lith yit wot he noght,
Til he arise upon the morwe;
And thanne he seith, ‘O, which a sorwe
It is a man be drinkeles!’706
So that halfdrunke in such a res
With dreie mouth he sterte him uppe,707
And seith, ‘Noubaillez çathe cuppe.’60
That made him lese his wit at eve
Is thanne a morwe al his beleve;
The cuppe is al that evere him pleseth,
And also that him most deseseth;
It is the cuppe whom he serveth,
Which alle cares fro him kerveth708
And alle bales to him bringeth:
In joie he wepth, in sorwe he singeth,
For Dronkeschipe is so divers,709
It may no whyle stonde in vers.70
P. iii. 4
He drinkth the wyn, bot ate laste
The wyn drynkth him and bint him faste,
And leith him drunke be the wal,
As him which is his bonde thral
And al in his subjeccion.
[Love-Drunkenness.]
And lich to such condicion,
As forto speke it other wise,
It falleth that the moste wise
Ben otherwhile of love adoted,710
And so bewhaped and assoted,80
Of drunke men that nevere yit
Was non, which half so loste his wit
Of drinke, as thei of such thing do
Which cleped is the jolif wo;
And waxen of here oghne thoght
So drunke, that thei knowe noght711
What reson is, or more or lesse.
Such is the kinde of that sieknesse,
And that is noght for lacke of brain,
Bot love is of so gret a main,90
That where he takth an herte on honde,
Ther mai nothing his miht withstonde:
The wise Salomon was nome,
And stronge Sampson overcome,
The knihtli David him ne mihte
Rescoue, that he with the sihte
Of Bersabee ne was bestad,
Virgile also was overlad,
And Aristotle was put under.
Forthi, mi Sone, it is no wonder100
P. iii. 5
If thou be drunke of love among,712
Which is above alle othre strong:
And if so is that thou so be,
Tell me thi Schrifte in privite;
It is no schame of such a thew
A yong man to be dronkelew.
Of such Phisique I can a part,
And as me semeth be that art,
Thou scholdest be Phisonomie
Be schapen to that maladie110
Of lovedrunke, and that is routhe.
Confessio Amantis.
Ha, holi fader, al is trouthe
That ye me telle: I am beknowe
That I with love am so bethrowe,
And al myn herte is so thurgh sunke,
That I amverrailiche drunke,
And yit I mai bothe speke and go.
Bot I am overcome so,
And torned fro miself so clene,
That ofte I wot noght what I mene;120
So that excusen I ne mai
Min herte, fro the ferste day
That I cam to mi ladi kiththe,
I was yit sobre nevere siththe.
Wher I hire se or se hire noght,
With musinge of min oghne thoght,
Of love, which min herte assaileth,
So drunke I am, that mi wit faileth
And al mi brain is overtorned,
And mi manere so mistorned,130
P. iii. 6
That I foryete al that I can
And stonde lich a mased man;
That ofte, whanne I scholde pleie,
It makth me drawe out of the weie
In soulein place be miselve,
As doth a labourer to delve,
Which can no gentil mannes chere;
Or elles as a lewed Frere,
Whan he is put to his penance,
Riht so lese I mi contienance.140
And if it nedes so betyde,
That I in compainie abyde,
Wher as I moste daunce and singe
The hovedance and carolinge,
Or forto go the newefot,713
I mai noght wel heve up mi fot,
If that sche be noght in the weie;
For thanne is al mi merthe aweie,
And waxe anon of thoght so full,
Wherof mi limes ben so dull,150
I mai unethes gon the pas.714
For thus it is and evere was,715
Whanne I on suche thoghtes muse,
The lust and merthe that men use,
Whan I se noght mi ladi byme,
Al is foryete for the time
So ferforth that mi wittes changen
And alle lustes fro me strangen,
That thei seie alle trewely,
And swere, that it am noght I.716160
P. iii. 7
For as the man which ofte drinketh,
With win that in his stomac sinketh717
Wext drunke and witles for a throwe,
Riht so mi lust is overthrowe,
And of myn oghne thoght so mat
I wexe, that to myn astat
Ther is no lime wol me serve,
Bot as a drunke man I swerve,
And suffre such a Passion,
That men have gret compassion,170
And everich be himself merveilleth
What thing it is that me so eilleth.718
Such is the manere of mi wo
Which time that I am hire fro,
Til eft ayein that I hire se.
Bot thanne it were a nycete
To telle you hou that I fare:
For whanne I mai upon hire stare,
Hire wommanhede, hire gentilesse,
Myn herte is full of such gladnesse,180
That overpasseth so mi wit,
That I wot nevere where it sit,
Bot am so drunken of that sihte,
Me thenkth that for the time I mihte
Riht sterte thurgh the hole wall;
And thanne I mai wel, if I schal,
Bothe singe and daunce and lepe aboute,
And holde forth the lusti route.
Bot natheles it falleth so
Fulofte, that I fro hire go190
P. iii. 8
Ne mai, bot as it were a stake,
I stonde avisement to take
And loke upon hire faire face;
That for the while out of the place
For al the world ne myhte I wende.
Such lust comth thanne into mi mende,
So that withoute mete or drinke,719
Of lusti thoughtes whiche I thinke
Me thenkth I mihte stonden evere;
And so it were to me levere200
Than such a sihte forto leve,
If that sche wolde yif me leve720
To have so mochel of mi wille.
And thus thenkende I stonde stille
Withoute blenchinge of myn yhe,
Riht as me thoghte that I syhe
Of Paradis the moste joie:
And so therwhile I me rejoie,
Into myn herte a gret desir,721
The which is hotere than the fyr,210
Al soudeinliche upon me renneth,
That al mi thoght withinne brenneth,
And am so ferforth overcome,
That I not where I am become;
So that among the hetes stronge722
In stede of drinke I underfonge
A thoght so swete in mi corage,
That nevere Pyment ne vernage
Was half so swete forto drinke.
For as I wolde, thanne I thinke220
P. iii. 9
As thogh I were at myn above,
For so thurgh drunke I am of love,
That al that mi sotye demeth
Is soth, as thanne it to me semeth.
And whyle I mai tho thoghtes kepe,
Me thenkth as thogh I were aslepe
And that I were in goddes barm;
Bot whanne I se myn oghne harm,
And that I soudeinliche awake
Out of my thought, and hiede take230
Hou that the sothe stant in dede,
Thanne is mi sekernesse in drede
And joie torned into wo,
So that the hete is al ago
Of such sotie as I was inne.723
And thanne ayeinward I beginne
To take of love a newe thorst,
The which me grieveth altherworst,
For thanne comth the blanche fievere,
With chele and makth me so to chievere,240
And so it coldeth at myn herte,724
That wonder is hou I asterte,725
In such a point that I ne deie:
For certes ther was nevere keie
Ne frosen ys upon the wal
More inly cold than I am al.
And thus soffre I the hote chele,
Which passeth othre peines fele;
In cold I brenne and frese in hete:
And thanne I drinke a biter swete250
P. iii. 10
With dreie lippe and yhen wete.
Lo, thus I tempre mi diete,
And take a drauhte of such reles,
That al mi wit is herteles,
And al myn herte, ther it sit,
Is, as who seith, withoute wit;
So that to prove it be reson
In makinge of comparison
Ther mai no difference be
Betwen a drunke man and me.260
Bot al the worste of everychon
Is evere that I thurste in on;726
The more that myn herte drinketh,
The more I may; so that me thinketh,
My thurst schal nevere ben aqueint.
God schilde that I be noght dreint
Of such a superfluite:
For wel I fiele in mi degre
That al mi wit is overcast,
Wherof I am the more agast,270
That in defaulte of ladischipe
Per chance in such a drunkeschipe
I mai be ded er I be war.
For certes, fader, this I dar
Beknowe and in mi schrifte telle:
Bot I a drauhte have of that welle,
In which mi deth is and mi lif,
Mi joie is torned into strif,
That sobre schal I nevere worthe,
Bot as a drunke man forworthe;280
P. iii. 11
So that in londe where I fare727
The lust is lore of mi welfare,
As he that mai no bote finde.
Bot this me thenkth a wonder kinde,
As I am drunke of that I drinke,728
So am I ek for falte of drinke;
Of which I finde no reles:
Bot if I myhte natheles
Of such a drinke as I coveite,
So as me liste, have o receite,290
I scholde assobre and fare wel.
Bot so fortune upon hire whiel
On hih me deigneth noght to sette,
For everemore I finde a lette:
The boteler is noght mi frend,
Which hath the keie be the bend;
I mai wel wisshe and that is wast,729
For wel I wot, so freissh a tast,
Bot if mi grace be the more,
I schal assaie neveremore.300
Thus am I drunke of that I se,
For tastinge is defended me,
And I can noght miselven stanche:
So that, mi fader, of this branche
I am gultif, to telle trouthe.
Confessor.
Mi Sone, that me thenketh routhe;
For lovedrunke is the meschief
Above alle othre the most chief,
If he no lusti thoght assaie,
Which mai his sori thurst allaie:310
P. iii. 12
As for the time yit it lisseth
To him which other joie misseth.
Forthi, mi Sone, aboven alle
Thenk wel, hou so it the befalle,
And kep thi wittes that thou hast,
And let hem noght be drunke in wast:
Bot natheles ther is no wyht
That mai withstonde loves miht.
Bot why the cause is, as I finde,
Of that ther is diverse kinde320
Of lovedrunke, why men pleigneth
After the court which al ordeigneth,
I wol the tellen the manere;
Nou lest, mi Sone, and thou schalt hiere.
[Jupiter’s Two Tuns.]
For the fortune of every chance
After the goddes pourveance
Hic narrat secundum Poetam, qualiter in suo celario Iupiter duo dolea habet, quorum primum liquoris dulcissimi, secundum amarissimi plenum consistit, ita quod ille cui fatata est prosperitas de dulci potabit, alter vero, cui aduersabitur, poculum gustabit amaram.
To man it groweth from above,
So that the sped of every love
Is schape there, er it befalle.730
For Jupiter aboven alle,330
Which is of goddes soverein,
Hath in his celier, as men sein,
Tuo tonnes fulle of love drinke,
That maken many an herte sinke
And many an herte also to flete,
Or of the soure or of the swete.
That on is full of such piment,
Which passeth all entendement
Of mannes witt, if he it taste,731
And makth a jolif herte in haste:340
P. iii. 13
That other biter as the galle,
Which makth a mannes herte palle,
Whos drunkeschipe is a sieknesse
Thurgh fielinge of the biternesse.
Cupide is boteler of bothe,
Which to the lieve and to the lothe
Yifth of the swete and of the soure,
That some lawhe, and some loure.
But for so moche as he blind is,
Fulofte time he goth amis350
And takth the badde for the goode,
Which hindreth many a mannes fode
Withoute cause, and forthreth eke.
So be ther some of love seke,732
Whiche oghte of reson to ben hole,
And some comen to the dole
In happ and as hemselve leste733
Drinke undeserved of the beste.734
And thus this blinde Boteler
Yifth of the trouble in stede of cler360
And ek the cler in stede of trouble:
Lo, hou he can the hertes trouble,
And makth men drunke al upon chaunce735
Withoute lawe of governance.
If he drawe of the swete tonne,
Thanne is the sorwe al overronne
Of lovedrunke, and schalt noght greven736
So to be drunken every even,
For al is thanne bot a game.
Bot whanne it is noght of the same,370
P. iii. 14
And he the biter tonne draweth,
Such drunkeschipe an herte gnaweth
And fiebleth al a mannes thoght,
That betre him were have drunke noght
And al his bred have eten dreie;
For thanne he lest his lusti weie737
With drunkeschipe, and wot noght whider
To go, the weies ben so slider,
In which he mai per cas so falle,738
That he schal breke his wittes alle.380
And in this wise men be drunke
After the drink that thei have drunke:739
Bot alle drinken noght alike,
For som schal singe and som schal syke,
So that it me nothing merveilleth,
Mi Sone, of love that thee eilleth;
For wel I knowe be thi tale,740
That thou hast drunken of the duale,
Which biter is, til god the sende
Such grace that thou miht amende.390
[Prayer. Bacchus in the Desert.]
Bot, Sone, thou schalt bidde and preie
In such a wise as I schal seie,
That thou the lusti welle atteigne
Thi wofull thurstes to restreigne
Of love, and taste the swetnesse;
As Bachus dede in his distresse,
Whan bodiliche thurst him hente
Nota hic qualiter potus aliquando sicienti precibus adquiritur. Et narrat in exemplum quod, cum Bachus de quodam bello ab oriente repatrians in quibusdam Lubie partibus alicuius generis potum non inuenit, fusis ad Iouem precibus, apparuit ei Aries, qui terram pede percussit,742statimque fons emanauit; et sic potum petenti peticio preualuit.
In strange londes where he wente.
This Bachus Sone of Jupiter
Was hote, and as he wente fer400
P. iii. 15
Be his fadres assignement
To make a werre in Orient,
And gret pouer with him he ladde,
So that the heiere hond he hadde
And victoire of his enemys,
And torneth homward with his pris,
In such a contre which was dreie
A meschief fell upon the weie.741
As he rod with his compainie
Nyh to the strondes of Lubie,410
Ther myhte thei no drinke finde
Of water nor of other kinde,
So that himself and al his host
Were of defalte of drinke almost743
Destruid, and thanne Bachus preide
To Jupiter, and thus he seide:
‘O hihe fader, that sest al,
To whom is reson that I schal
Beseche and preie in every nede,
Behold, mi fader, and tak hiede420
This wofull thurst that we ben inne744
To staunche, and grante ous forto winne,
And sauf unto the contre fare,
Wher that oure lusti loves are
Waitende upon oure hom cominge.’
And with the vois of his preiynge,
Which herd was to the goddes hihe,
He syh anon tofore his yhe
A wether, which the ground hath sporned;
And wher he hath it overtorned,430
P. iii. 16
Ther sprang a welle freissh and cler,
Wherof his oghne boteler
After the lustes of his wille
Was every man to drinke his fille.745
And for this ilke grete grace
Bachus upon the same place
A riche temple let arere,
Which evere scholde stonde there
To thursti men in remembrance.
Confessor.
Forthi, mi Sone, after this chance440
It sit thee wel to taken hiede
So forto preie upon thi nede,746
As Bachus preide for the welle;
And thenk, as thou hast herd me telle,
Hou grace he gradde and grace he hadde.
He was no fol that ferst so radde,
For selden get a domb man lond:
Tak that proverbe, and understond
That wordes ben of vertu grete.
Forthi to speke thou ne lete,450
And axe and prei erli and late
Thi thurst to quenche, and thenk algate,
The boteler which berth the keie
Is blind, as thou hast herd me seie;
And if it mihte so betyde,
That he upon the blinde side
Per cas the swete tonne arauhte,
Than schalt thou have a lusti drauhte
And waxe of lovedrunke sobre.
And thus I rede thou assobre460
P. iii. 17
Thin herte in hope of such a grace;
For drunkeschipe in every place,
To whether side that it torne,747
Doth harm and makth a man to sporne
And ofte falle in such a wise,
Wher he per cas mai noght arise.
[Love-Drunkenness. Tristram.]
And forto loke in evidence
Upon the sothe experience,
Hic de amoris ebrietate ponit exemplum, qualiter Tristrans ob potum,749quem Brangweyne in naui ei porrexit, de amore Bele Isolde inebriatus extitit.
So as it hath befalle er this,748
In every mannes mouth it is470
Hou Tristram was of love drunke
With Bele Ysolde, whan thei drunke
The drink which Brangwein hem betok,
Er that king Marc his Eem hire tok
To wyve, as it was after knowe.
And ek, mi Sone, if thou wolt knowe,
As it hath fallen overmore
In loves cause, and what is more
Of drunkeschipe forto drede,
As it whilom befell in dede,480
Wherof thou miht the betre eschuie
Of drunke men that thou ne suie
The compaignie in no manere,
A gret ensample thou schalt hiere.
[Marriage of Pirithous.]This finde I write in PoesieOf thilke faire Ipotacie,Hic de periculis ebrietatis causa in amore contingentibus750narrat quod, cum Pirothous illam pulcherimam Ypotaciam in vxorem duceret, quosdam qui Centauri vocabantur inter alios vicinos ad nupcias inuitauit; qui vino imbuti, noue nupte formositatem aspicientes, duplici ebrietate insanierunt, ita quod ipsi subito salientes a mensa Ipotaciam a Pirothoo marito suo in752impetu rapuerunt.Of whos beaute ther as sche wasSpak every man,—and fell per cas,That Pirotoüs so him spedde,That he to wyve hire scholde wedde,490P. iii. 18Wherof that he gret joie made.And for he wolde his love glade,Ayein the day of mariageBe mouthe bothe and be messageHise frendes to the feste he preide,751With gret worschipe and, as men seide,He hath this yonge ladi spoused.And whan that thei were alle housed,And set and served ate mete,Ther was no wyn which mai be gete,753500That ther ne was plente ynouh:Bot Bachus thilke tonne drouh,Wherof be weie of drunkeschipeThe greteste of the felaschipeWere oute of reson overtake;And Venus, which hath also takeThe cause most in special,Hath yove hem drinke forth withal754Of thilke cuppe which excitethThe lust wherinne a man deliteth:510And thus be double weie drunke,Of lust that ilke fyri funkeHath mad hem, as who seith, halfwode,755That thei no reson understode,Ne to non other thing thei syhen,Bot hire, which tofore here yhenWas wedded thilke same day,That freisshe wif, that lusti May,On hire it was al that thei thoghten.756And so ferforth here lustes soghten,520P. iii. 19That thei the whiche named wereCentauri, ate feste thereOf on assent, of on acordThis yonge wif malgre hire lordIn such a rage awei forth ladden,As thei whiche non insihte haddenBot only to her drunke fare,Which many a man hath mad misfareIn love als wel as other weie.Wherof, if I schal more seie530Upon the nature of the vice,757Of custume and of excerciceThe mannes grace hou it fordoth,A tale, which was whilom soth,Of fooles that so drunken were,I schal reherce unto thine Ere.
[Marriage of Pirithous.]
This finde I write in Poesie
Of thilke faire Ipotacie,
Hic de periculis ebrietatis causa in amore contingentibus750narrat quod, cum Pirothous illam pulcherimam Ypotaciam in vxorem duceret, quosdam qui Centauri vocabantur inter alios vicinos ad nupcias inuitauit; qui vino imbuti, noue nupte formositatem aspicientes, duplici ebrietate insanierunt, ita quod ipsi subito salientes a mensa Ipotaciam a Pirothoo marito suo in752impetu rapuerunt.
Of whos beaute ther as sche was
Spak every man,—and fell per cas,
That Pirotoüs so him spedde,
That he to wyve hire scholde wedde,490
P. iii. 18
Wherof that he gret joie made.
And for he wolde his love glade,
Ayein the day of mariage
Be mouthe bothe and be message
Hise frendes to the feste he preide,751
With gret worschipe and, as men seide,
He hath this yonge ladi spoused.
And whan that thei were alle housed,
And set and served ate mete,
Ther was no wyn which mai be gete,753500
That ther ne was plente ynouh:
Bot Bachus thilke tonne drouh,
Wherof be weie of drunkeschipe
The greteste of the felaschipe
Were oute of reson overtake;
And Venus, which hath also take
The cause most in special,
Hath yove hem drinke forth withal754
Of thilke cuppe which exciteth
The lust wherinne a man deliteth:510
And thus be double weie drunke,
Of lust that ilke fyri funke
Hath mad hem, as who seith, halfwode,755
That thei no reson understode,
Ne to non other thing thei syhen,
Bot hire, which tofore here yhen
Was wedded thilke same day,
That freisshe wif, that lusti May,
On hire it was al that thei thoghten.756
And so ferforth here lustes soghten,520
P. iii. 19
That thei the whiche named were
Centauri, ate feste there
Of on assent, of on acord
This yonge wif malgre hire lord
In such a rage awei forth ladden,
As thei whiche non insihte hadden
Bot only to her drunke fare,
Which many a man hath mad misfare
In love als wel as other weie.
Wherof, if I schal more seie530
Upon the nature of the vice,757
Of custume and of excercice
The mannes grace hou it fordoth,
A tale, which was whilom soth,
Of fooles that so drunken were,
I schal reherce unto thine Ere.