[Galba and Vitellius.]I rede in a Cronique thusOf Galba and of Vitellus,Hic loquitur specialiter contra vicium illorum, qui nimia potacione quasi ex consuetudine ebriosi efficiuntur. Et narrat exemplum de Galba et Vitello, qui potentes in Hispania principes fuerunt, set ipsi cotidiane ebrietatis potibus assueti, tanta vicinis intulerunt enormia, quod tandem760toto conclamante populo pena sentencie capitalis in eos iudicialiter diffinita est: qui priusquam morerentur, vt penam mortis alleuiarent, spontanea vini ebrietate sopiti, quasi porci semimortui gladio interierunt.758The whiche of Spaigne bothe wereThe greteste of alle othre there,540And bothe of o condicionAfter the disposicionOf glotonie and drunkeschipe.759That was a sori felaschipe:For this thou miht wel understonde,That man mai wel noght longe stondeWhich is wyndrunke of comun us;For he hath lore the vertus,Wherof reson him scholde clothe;And that was seene upon hem bothe.550P. iii. 20Men sein ther is non evidence,Wherof to knowe a differenceBetwen the drunken and the wode,For thei be nevere nouther goode;761For wher that wyn doth wit aweie,Wisdom hath lost the rihte weie,That he no maner vice dredeth;Nomore than a blind man thredethHis nedle be the Sonnes lyht,762Nomore is reson thanne of myht,560Whan he with drunkeschipe is blent.And in this point thei weren schent,This Galba bothe and ek Vitelle,Upon the cause as I schal telle,Wherof good is to taken hiede.For thei tuo thurgh her drunkenhiedeOf witles excitaciounOppressede al the nacionOf Spaigne; for of fool usance,763Which don was of continuance570Of hem, whiche alday drunken were,Ther was no wif ne maiden there,What so thei were, or faire or foule,Whom thei ne token to defoule,Wherof the lond was often wo:And ek in othre thinges moThei wroghten many a sondri wrong.Bot hou so that the dai be long,The derke nyht comth ate laste:God wolde noght thei scholden laste,580P. iii. 21And schop the lawe in such a wise,That thei thurgh dom to the juiseBe dampned forto be forlore.Bot thei, that hadden ben toforeEnclin to alle drunkenesse,—Here ende thanne bar witnesse;For thei in hope to assuageThe peine of deth, upon the rageThat thei the lasse scholden fiele,Of wyn let fille full a Miele,764590And dronken til so was befalleThat thei her strengthes losten alleWithouten wit of eny brain;And thus thei ben halfdede slain,That hem ne grieveth bot a lyte.Confessor.Mi Sone, if thou be forto wyteIn eny point which I have seid,Wherof thi wittes ben unteid,I rede clepe hem hom ayein.765Amans.I schal do, fader, as ye sein,600Als ferforth as I mai suffise:Bot wel I wot that in no wiseThe drunkeschipe of love aweieI mai remue be no weie,It stant noght upon my fortune.Bot if you liste to comuneOf the seconde Glotonie,Which cleped is Delicacie,Wherof ye spieken hier tofore,Beseche I wolde you therfore.610Confessor.P. iii. 22Mi Sone, as of that ilke vice,Which of alle othre is the Norrice,And stant upon the retenueOf Venus, so as it is due,The proprete hou that it farethThe bok hierafter nou declareth.[Delicacy.]ii.Delicie cum diuiciis sunt iura potentum,In quibus orta Venus excitat ora gule.Non sunt delicie tales, que corpora pascunt,Ex quibus impletus gaudia venter agit,Quin completus amor maiori munere gaudet,Cum data deliciis mens in amante satur.766Of this chapitre in which we treteThere is yit on of such diete,Hic tractat super illa specie Gule que Delicacia nuncupatur, cuius mollicies767voluptuose carni in personis precipue potentibus queque768complacencia corporaliter ministrat.To which no povere mai atteigne;For al is Past of paindemeine769620And sondri wyn and sondri drinke,Wherof that he wole ete and drinke:Hise cokes ben for him affaited,So that his body is awaited,That him schal lacke no delit,Als ferforth as his appetitSufficeth to the metes hote.Wherof this lusti vice is hoteOf Gule the Delicacie,Which al the hole progenie630Of lusti folk hath undertakeTo feede, whil that he mai takeRichesses wherof to be founde:770Of Abstinence he wot no bounde,To what profit it scholde serve.And yit phisique of his conserveP. iii. 23Makth many a restauraciounUnto his recreacioun,Which wolde be to Venus lief.Thus for the point of his relief640The coc which schal his mete arraie,Bot he the betre his mouth assaie,His lordes thonk schal ofte lese,Er he be served to the chese:For ther mai lacke noght so lyte,That he ne fint anon a wyte;For bot his lust be fully served,771Ther hath no wiht his thonk deserved.And yit for mannes sustenance,To kepe and holde in governance,650To him that wole his hele geteIs non so good as comun mete:For who that loketh on the bokes,772It seith, confeccion of cokes,A man him scholde wel aviseHou he it toke and in what wise.For who that useth that he knoweth,Ful selden seknesse on him groweth,And who that useth metes strange,Though his nature empeire and change660It is no wonder, lieve Sone,Whan that he doth ayein his wone;Philosophus. Consuetudo est altera natura.For in Phisique this I finde,Usage is the seconde kinde.773P. iii. 24[Love-Delicacy.]And riht so changeth his astat774He that of love is delicat:For though he hadde to his hondThe beste wif of al the lond,Or the faireste love of alle,Yit wolde his herte on othre falle670And thenke hem mor deliciousThan he hath in his oghne hous:Men sein it is nou ofte so;775Avise hem wel, thei that so do.And forto speke in other weie,Fulofte time I have herd seie,That he which hath no love achieved,Him thenkth that he is noght relieved,Thogh that his ladi make him chiere,So as sche mai in good manere680Hir honour and hir name save,776Bot he the surplus mihte have.Nothing withstondende hire astat,Of love more delicatHe set hire chiere at no delit,Bot he have al his appetit.777Mi Sone, if it be with thee so,Tell me.Confessio Amantis.Myn holi fader, no:For delicat in such a wiseOf love, as ye to me devise,690Ne was I nevere yit gultif;For if I hadde such a wifAs ye speke of, what scholde I more?For thanne I wolde neveremoreP. iii. 25For lust of eny wommanhiedeMyn herte upon non other fiede:And if I dede, it were a wast.Bot al withoute such repastOf lust, as ye me tolde above,Of wif, or yit of other love,700I faste, and mai no fode gete;So that for lacke of deinte mete,Of which an herte mai be fedd,I go fastende to my bedd.Bot myhte I geten, as ye tolde,So mochel that mi ladi woldeMe fede with hir glad semblant,Though me lacke al the remenant,Yit scholde I somdel ben abechedAnd for the time wel refreched.710Bot certes, fader, sche ne doth;For in good feith, to telle soth,I trowe, thogh I scholde sterve,Sche wolde noght hire yhe swerve,Min herte with o goodly lok778To fede, and thus for such a cokI mai go fastinge everemo:Bot if so is that eny woMai fede a mannes herte wel,Therof I have at every meel720Of plente more than ynowh;Bot that is of himself so towh,Mi stomac mai it noght defie.Lo, such is the delicacieP. iii. 26Of love, which myn herte fedeth;Thus have I lacke of that me nedeth.Bot for al this yit nathelesI seie noght I am gylteles,That I somdel am delicat:For elles were I fulli mat,730Bot if that I som lusti stoundeOf confort and of ese founde,To take of love som repast;For thogh I with the fulle tast779The lust of love mai noght fiele,Min hunger otherwise I kieleOf smale lustes whiche I pike,And for a time yit thei like;If that ye wisten what I mene.Confessor.Nou, goode Sone, schrif thee clene740Of suche deyntes as ben goode,Wherof thou takst thin hertes fode.Confessio Amantis.Mi fader, I you schal reherce,Hou that mi fodes ben diverse,So as thei fallen in degre.O fiedinge is of that I se,780An other is of that I here,The thridde, as I schal tellen here,It groweth of min oghne thoght:And elles scholde I live noght;750For whom that failleth fode of herte,781He mai noght wel the deth asterte.Of sihte is al mi ferste fode,Nota qualiter visus in amore se continet delicatus.Thurgh which myn yhe of alle goodeP. iii. 27Hath that to him is acordant,A lusti fode sufficant.Whan that I go toward the placeWher I schal se my ladi face,Min yhe, which is loth to faste,Beginth to hungre anon so faste,760That him thenkth of on houre thre,Til I ther come and he hire se:782And thanne after his appetitHe takth a fode of such delit,That him non other deynte nedeth.Of sondri sihtes he him fedeth:He seth hire face of such colour,That freisshere is than eny flour,He seth hire front is large and pleinWithoute fronce of eny grein,770He seth hire yhen lich an hevene,He seth hire nase strauht and evene,He seth hire rode upon the cheke,He seth hire rede lippes eke,Hire chyn acordeth to the face,Al that he seth is full of grace,He seth hire necke round and clene,Therinne mai no bon be sene,He seth hire handes faire and whyte;For al this thing without wyte780He mai se naked ate leste,So is it wel the more festeAnd wel the mor DelicacieUnto the fiedinge of myn yhe.783P. iii. 28He seth hire schapthe forth withal,784Hire bodi round, hire middel smal,So wel begon with good array,Which passeth al the lust of Maii,Whan he is most with softe schouresFul clothed in his lusti floures.790With suche sihtes by and byMin yhe is fed; bot finaly,Whan he the port and the manereSeth of hire wommanysshe chere,Than hath he such delice on honde,Him thenkth he mihte stille stonde,And that he hath ful sufficanceOf liflode and of sustienanceAs to his part for everemo.And if it thoghte alle othre so,800Fro thenne wolde he nevere wende,Bot there unto the worldes endeHe wolde abyde, if that he mihte,And fieden him upon the syhte.For thogh I mihte stonden ayInto the time of domesdayAnd loke upon hire evere in on,Yit whanne I scholde fro hire gon,Min yhe wolde, as thogh he faste,Ben hungerstorven al so faste,810Til efte ayein that he hire syhe.Such is the nature of myn yhe:Ther is no lust so deintefull,Of which a man schal noght be full,P. iii. 29Of that the stomac underfongeth,Bot evere in on myn yhe longeth:For loke hou that a goshauk tireth,Riht so doth he, whan that he pirethAnd toteth on hire wommanhiede;For he mai nevere fulli fiede820His lust, bot evere aliche soreHim hungreth, so that he the moreDesireth to be fed algate:And thus myn yhe is mad the gate,Thurgh which the deyntes of my thoghtOf lust ben to myn herte broght.Riht as myn yhe with his lok785Is to myn herte a lusti cocOf loves fode delicat,Qualiter auris in amore delectatur.Riht so myn Ere in his astat,830Wher as myn yhe mai noght serve,Can wel myn hertes thonk deserveAnd fieden him fro day to dayWith suche deyntes as he may.For thus it is, that overal,Wher as I come in special,I mai hiere of mi ladi pris;I hiere on seith that sche is wys,786An other seith that sche is good,And som men sein, of worthi blod840That sche is come, and is also787So fair, that nawher is non so;And som men preise hire goodli chiere:Thus every thing that I mai hiere,P. iii. 30Which souneth to mi ladi goode,Is to myn Ere a lusti foode.And ek min Ere hath over thisA deynte feste, whan so isThat I mai hiere hirselve speke;For thanne anon mi faste I breke850On suche wordes as sche seith,That full of trouthe and full of feithThei ben, and of so good desport,That to myn Ere gret confortThei don, as thei that ben delices.For al the metes and the spices,788That eyn Lombard couthe make,Ne be so lusti forto takeNe so ferforth restauratif,I seie as for myn oghne lif,860As ben the wordes of hire mouth:For as the wyndes of the SouthBen most of alle debonaire,So whan hir list to speke faire,The vertu of hire goodly specheIs verraily myn hertes leche.And if it so befalle among,That sche carole upon a song,Whan I it hiere I am so fedd,That I am fro miself so ledd,870As thogh I were in paradis;For certes, as to myn avis,Whan I here of hir vois the stevene,Me thenkth it is a blisse of hevene.P. iii. 31And ek in other wise alsoFulofte time it falleth so,Min Ere with a good pitanceIs fedd of redinge of romanceOf Ydoine and of Amadas,That whilom weren in mi cas,880And eke of othre many a score,That loveden longe er I was bore.For whan I of here loves rede,Min Ere with the tale I fede;And with the lust of here histoireSomtime I drawe into memoireHou sorwe mai noght evere laste;And so comth hope in ate laste,Whan I non other fode knowe.And that endureth bot a throwe,890Riht as it were a cherie feste;Bot forto compten ate leste,789As for the while yit it esethAnd somdel of myn herte appeseth:For what thing to myn Ere spreedeth,Which is plesant, somdel it feedethWith wordes suche as he mai geteMi lust, in stede of other mete.Amans.Lo thus, mi fader, as I seie,790Of lust the which myn yhe hath seie,900And ek of that myn Ere hath herd,Fulofte I have the betre ferd.And tho tuo bringen in the thridde,The which hath in myn herte amiddeP. iii. 32His place take, to arraieThe lusti fode, which assaie791I mot; and nameliche on nyhtes,Whan that me lacketh alle sihtes,And that myn heringe is aweie,Thanne is he redy in the weie910Mi reresouper forto make,Of which myn hertes fode I take.This lusti cokes name is hoteThoght, which hath evere hise pottes hoteQualiter cogitatus impressiones leticie ymaginatiuas cordibus inserit amantum.Of love buillende on the fyrWith fantasie and with desir,Of whiche er this fulofte he feddeMin herte, whanne I was abedde;And thanne he set upon my bordBothe every syhte and every word920Of lust, which I have herd or sein.Bot yit is noght mi feste al plein,Bot al of woldes and of wisshes,Therof have I my fulle disshes,Bot as of fielinge and of tast,Yit mihte I nevere have o repast.And thus, as I have seid aforn,792I licke hony on the thorn,793And as who seith, upon the bridelI chiewe, so that al is ydel930As in effect the fode I have.Bot as a man that wolde him save,Whan he is sek, be medicine,Riht so of love the famineP. iii. 33I fonde in al that evere I maiTo fiede and dryve forth the day,Til I mai have the grete feste,Which al myn hunger myhte areste.Lo suche ben mi lustes thre;Of that I thenke and hiere and se940I take of love my fiedingeWithoute tastinge or fielinge:And as the Plover doth of EirI live, and am in good espeirThat for no such delicacieI trowe I do no glotonie.794And natheles to youre avis,Min holi fader, that be wis,I recomande myn astatOf that I have be delicat.950Confessor.Mi Sone, I understonde welThat thou hast told hier everydel,And as me thenketh be thi tale,It ben delices wonder smale,Wherof thou takst thi loves fode.Bot, Sone, if that thou understodeWhat is to ben delicious,Thou woldest noght be curiousUpon the lust of thin astatTo ben to sore delicat,960Wherof that thou reson excede:For in the bokes thou myht rede,If mannes wisdom schal be suied,It oghte wel to ben eschuied795P. iii. 34In love als wel as other weie;[Delicacy.]For, as these holi bokes seie,Delicie corporis militant aduersus animam.The bodely delices alleIn every point, hou so thei falle,Unto the Soule don grievance.And forto take in remembrance,970A tale acordant unto this,Which of gret understondinge isTo mannes soule resonable,796I thenke telle, and is no fable.[Dives and Lazarus.]Of Cristes word, who wole it rede,Hou that this vice is forto dredeHic ponit exemplum contra istos delicatos. Et narrat de diuite et Lazaro, quorum gestus797in euangelio Lucas euidencius describit.In thevangile it telleth plein,Which mot algate be certein,For Crist himself it berth witnesse.And thogh the clerk and the clergesse980In latin tunge it rede and singe,Yit for the more knoulechingeOf trouthe, which is good to wite,I schal declare as it is writeIn Engleissh, for thus it began.Crist seith: ‘Ther was a riche man,A mihti lord of gret astat,And he was ek so delicat798Of his clothing, that everydayOf pourpre and bisse he made him gay,990And eet and drank therto his filleAfter the lustes of his wille,As he which al stod in delice799And tok non hiede of thilke vice.P. iii. 35And as it scholde so betyde,A povere lazre upon a tydeCam to the gate and axed mete:Bot there mihte he nothing gete800His dedly hunger forto stanche;For he, which hadde his fulle panche1000Of alle lustes ate bord,Ne deigneth noght to speke a word,Onliche a Crumme forto yive,Wherof the povere myhte live801Upon the yifte of his almesse.Thus lai this povere in gret destresse802Acold and hungred ate gate,Fro which he mihte go no gate,803So was he wofulli besein.And as these holi bokes sein,8041010The houndes comen fro the halle,Wher that this sike man was falle,And as he lay ther forto die,The woundes of his maladieThei licken forto don him ese.Bot he was full of such desese,That he mai noght the deth eschape;Bot as it was that time schape,The Soule fro the bodi passeth,And he whom nothing overpasseth,1020The hihe god, up to the heveneHim tok, wher he hath set him eveneIn Habrahammes barm on hyh,805Wher he the hevene joie syhP. iii. 36And hadde al that he have wolde.And fell, as it befalle scholde,This riche man the same throwe806With soudein deth was overthrowe,And forth withouten eny wenteInto the helle straght he wente;8071030The fend into the fyr him drouh,Wher that he hadde peine ynouhOf flamme which that evere brenneth.And as his yhe aboute renneth,Toward the hevene he cast his lok,Wher that he syh and hiede tokHou Lazar set was in his SeAls ferr as evere he mihte seWith Habraham; and thanne he preideUnto the Patriarch and seide:1040“Send Lazar doun fro thilke Sete,And do that he his finger weteIn water, so that he mai droppeUpon my tunge, forto stoppeThe grete hete in which I brenne.”Bot Habraham answerde thenneAnd seide to him in this wise:“Mi Sone, thou thee miht avise808And take into thi remembrance,Hou Lazar hadde gret penance,1050Whyl he was in that other lif,Bot thou in al thi lust jolifThe bodily delices soghtest:Forthi, so as thou thanne wroghtest,P. iii. 37Nou schalt thou take thi rewardOf dedly peine hierafterwardIn helle, which schal evere laste;And this Lazar nou ate lasteThe worldes peine is overronne,In hevene and hath his lif begonne1060Of joie, which is endeles.Bot that thou preidest natheles,That I schal Lazar to the sendeWith water on his finger ende,Thin hote tunge forto kiele,Thou schalt no suche graces fiele;For to that foule place of Sinne,For evere in which thou schalt ben inne,Comth non out of this place thider,Ne non of you mai comen hider;1070Thus be yee parted nou atuo.”The riche ayeinward cride tho:“O Habraham, sithe it so is,That Lazar mai noght do me thisWhich I have axed in this place,I wolde preie an other grace.For I have yit of brethren fyve,That with mi fader ben alyveTogedre duellende in on hous;To whom, as thou art gracious,1080I preie that thou woldest sendeLazar, so that he mihte wendeTo warne hem hou the world is went,That afterward thei be noght schentP. iii. 38Of suche peines as I drye.809Lo, this I preie and this I crie,Now I may noght miself amende.”The Patriarch anon suiendeTo his preiere ansuerde nay;810And seide him hou that everyday1090His brethren mihten knowe and hiereOf Moïses on Erthe hiereAnd of prophetes othre mo,What hem was best. And he seith no;Bot if ther mihte a man aryseFro deth to lyve in such a wise,To tellen hem hou that it were,He seide hou thanne of pure fere811Thei scholden wel be war therby.Quod Habraham: “Nay sikerly;8121100For if thei nou wol noght obeieTo suche as techen hem the weie,And alday preche and alday telleHou that it stant of hevene and helle,Thei wol noght thanne taken hiede,813Thogh it befelle so in dedeThat eny ded man were arered,814To ben of him no betre leredThan of an other man alyve.”815Confessor.If thou, mi Sone, canst descryve1110This tale, as Crist himself it tolde,Thou schalt have cause to beholde,816To se so gret an evidence,Wherof the sothe experienceP. iii. 39Hath schewed openliche at ÿe,That bodili delicacieOf him which yeveth non almesseSchal after falle in gret destresse.And that was sene upon the riche:For he ne wolde unto his liche1120A Crumme yiven of his bred,Thanne afterward, whan he was ded,A drope of water him was werned.Thus mai a mannes wit be lernedOf hem that so delices taken;Whan thei with deth ben overtaken,That erst was swete is thanne sour.Bot he that is a governourOf worldes good, if he be wys,Withinne his herte he set no pris1130Of al the world, and yit he usethThe good, that he nothing refuseth,As he which lord is of the thinges.The Nouches and the riche ringes,The cloth of gold and the PerrieHe takth, and yit delicacieHe leveth, thogh he were al this.The beste mete that ther isHe ett, and drinkth the beste drinke;Bot hou that evere he ete or drinke,1140Delicacie he put aweie,As he which goth the rihte weieNoght only forto fiede and clotheHis bodi, bot his soule bothe.P. iii. 40Bot thei that taken otherwiseHere lustes, ben none of the wise;817And that whilom was schewed eke,If thou these olde bokes seke,Als wel be reson as be kinde,Of olde ensample as men mai finde.1150
[Galba and Vitellius.]I rede in a Cronique thusOf Galba and of Vitellus,Hic loquitur specialiter contra vicium illorum, qui nimia potacione quasi ex consuetudine ebriosi efficiuntur. Et narrat exemplum de Galba et Vitello, qui potentes in Hispania principes fuerunt, set ipsi cotidiane ebrietatis potibus assueti, tanta vicinis intulerunt enormia, quod tandem760toto conclamante populo pena sentencie capitalis in eos iudicialiter diffinita est: qui priusquam morerentur, vt penam mortis alleuiarent, spontanea vini ebrietate sopiti, quasi porci semimortui gladio interierunt.758The whiche of Spaigne bothe wereThe greteste of alle othre there,540And bothe of o condicionAfter the disposicionOf glotonie and drunkeschipe.759That was a sori felaschipe:For this thou miht wel understonde,That man mai wel noght longe stondeWhich is wyndrunke of comun us;For he hath lore the vertus,Wherof reson him scholde clothe;And that was seene upon hem bothe.550P. iii. 20Men sein ther is non evidence,Wherof to knowe a differenceBetwen the drunken and the wode,For thei be nevere nouther goode;761For wher that wyn doth wit aweie,Wisdom hath lost the rihte weie,That he no maner vice dredeth;Nomore than a blind man thredethHis nedle be the Sonnes lyht,762Nomore is reson thanne of myht,560Whan he with drunkeschipe is blent.And in this point thei weren schent,This Galba bothe and ek Vitelle,Upon the cause as I schal telle,Wherof good is to taken hiede.For thei tuo thurgh her drunkenhiedeOf witles excitaciounOppressede al the nacionOf Spaigne; for of fool usance,763Which don was of continuance570Of hem, whiche alday drunken were,Ther was no wif ne maiden there,What so thei were, or faire or foule,Whom thei ne token to defoule,Wherof the lond was often wo:And ek in othre thinges moThei wroghten many a sondri wrong.Bot hou so that the dai be long,The derke nyht comth ate laste:God wolde noght thei scholden laste,580P. iii. 21And schop the lawe in such a wise,That thei thurgh dom to the juiseBe dampned forto be forlore.Bot thei, that hadden ben toforeEnclin to alle drunkenesse,—Here ende thanne bar witnesse;For thei in hope to assuageThe peine of deth, upon the rageThat thei the lasse scholden fiele,Of wyn let fille full a Miele,764590And dronken til so was befalleThat thei her strengthes losten alleWithouten wit of eny brain;And thus thei ben halfdede slain,That hem ne grieveth bot a lyte.Confessor.Mi Sone, if thou be forto wyteIn eny point which I have seid,Wherof thi wittes ben unteid,I rede clepe hem hom ayein.765Amans.I schal do, fader, as ye sein,600Als ferforth as I mai suffise:Bot wel I wot that in no wiseThe drunkeschipe of love aweieI mai remue be no weie,It stant noght upon my fortune.Bot if you liste to comuneOf the seconde Glotonie,Which cleped is Delicacie,Wherof ye spieken hier tofore,Beseche I wolde you therfore.610Confessor.P. iii. 22Mi Sone, as of that ilke vice,Which of alle othre is the Norrice,And stant upon the retenueOf Venus, so as it is due,The proprete hou that it farethThe bok hierafter nou declareth.[Delicacy.]ii.Delicie cum diuiciis sunt iura potentum,In quibus orta Venus excitat ora gule.Non sunt delicie tales, que corpora pascunt,Ex quibus impletus gaudia venter agit,Quin completus amor maiori munere gaudet,Cum data deliciis mens in amante satur.766Of this chapitre in which we treteThere is yit on of such diete,Hic tractat super illa specie Gule que Delicacia nuncupatur, cuius mollicies767voluptuose carni in personis precipue potentibus queque768complacencia corporaliter ministrat.To which no povere mai atteigne;For al is Past of paindemeine769620And sondri wyn and sondri drinke,Wherof that he wole ete and drinke:Hise cokes ben for him affaited,So that his body is awaited,That him schal lacke no delit,Als ferforth as his appetitSufficeth to the metes hote.Wherof this lusti vice is hoteOf Gule the Delicacie,Which al the hole progenie630Of lusti folk hath undertakeTo feede, whil that he mai takeRichesses wherof to be founde:770Of Abstinence he wot no bounde,To what profit it scholde serve.And yit phisique of his conserveP. iii. 23Makth many a restauraciounUnto his recreacioun,Which wolde be to Venus lief.Thus for the point of his relief640The coc which schal his mete arraie,Bot he the betre his mouth assaie,His lordes thonk schal ofte lese,Er he be served to the chese:For ther mai lacke noght so lyte,That he ne fint anon a wyte;For bot his lust be fully served,771Ther hath no wiht his thonk deserved.And yit for mannes sustenance,To kepe and holde in governance,650To him that wole his hele geteIs non so good as comun mete:For who that loketh on the bokes,772It seith, confeccion of cokes,A man him scholde wel aviseHou he it toke and in what wise.For who that useth that he knoweth,Ful selden seknesse on him groweth,And who that useth metes strange,Though his nature empeire and change660It is no wonder, lieve Sone,Whan that he doth ayein his wone;Philosophus. Consuetudo est altera natura.For in Phisique this I finde,Usage is the seconde kinde.773P. iii. 24[Love-Delicacy.]And riht so changeth his astat774He that of love is delicat:For though he hadde to his hondThe beste wif of al the lond,Or the faireste love of alle,Yit wolde his herte on othre falle670And thenke hem mor deliciousThan he hath in his oghne hous:Men sein it is nou ofte so;775Avise hem wel, thei that so do.And forto speke in other weie,Fulofte time I have herd seie,That he which hath no love achieved,Him thenkth that he is noght relieved,Thogh that his ladi make him chiere,So as sche mai in good manere680Hir honour and hir name save,776Bot he the surplus mihte have.Nothing withstondende hire astat,Of love more delicatHe set hire chiere at no delit,Bot he have al his appetit.777Mi Sone, if it be with thee so,Tell me.Confessio Amantis.Myn holi fader, no:For delicat in such a wiseOf love, as ye to me devise,690Ne was I nevere yit gultif;For if I hadde such a wifAs ye speke of, what scholde I more?For thanne I wolde neveremoreP. iii. 25For lust of eny wommanhiedeMyn herte upon non other fiede:And if I dede, it were a wast.Bot al withoute such repastOf lust, as ye me tolde above,Of wif, or yit of other love,700I faste, and mai no fode gete;So that for lacke of deinte mete,Of which an herte mai be fedd,I go fastende to my bedd.Bot myhte I geten, as ye tolde,So mochel that mi ladi woldeMe fede with hir glad semblant,Though me lacke al the remenant,Yit scholde I somdel ben abechedAnd for the time wel refreched.710Bot certes, fader, sche ne doth;For in good feith, to telle soth,I trowe, thogh I scholde sterve,Sche wolde noght hire yhe swerve,Min herte with o goodly lok778To fede, and thus for such a cokI mai go fastinge everemo:Bot if so is that eny woMai fede a mannes herte wel,Therof I have at every meel720Of plente more than ynowh;Bot that is of himself so towh,Mi stomac mai it noght defie.Lo, such is the delicacieP. iii. 26Of love, which myn herte fedeth;Thus have I lacke of that me nedeth.Bot for al this yit nathelesI seie noght I am gylteles,That I somdel am delicat:For elles were I fulli mat,730Bot if that I som lusti stoundeOf confort and of ese founde,To take of love som repast;For thogh I with the fulle tast779The lust of love mai noght fiele,Min hunger otherwise I kieleOf smale lustes whiche I pike,And for a time yit thei like;If that ye wisten what I mene.Confessor.Nou, goode Sone, schrif thee clene740Of suche deyntes as ben goode,Wherof thou takst thin hertes fode.Confessio Amantis.Mi fader, I you schal reherce,Hou that mi fodes ben diverse,So as thei fallen in degre.O fiedinge is of that I se,780An other is of that I here,The thridde, as I schal tellen here,It groweth of min oghne thoght:And elles scholde I live noght;750For whom that failleth fode of herte,781He mai noght wel the deth asterte.Of sihte is al mi ferste fode,Nota qualiter visus in amore se continet delicatus.Thurgh which myn yhe of alle goodeP. iii. 27Hath that to him is acordant,A lusti fode sufficant.Whan that I go toward the placeWher I schal se my ladi face,Min yhe, which is loth to faste,Beginth to hungre anon so faste,760That him thenkth of on houre thre,Til I ther come and he hire se:782And thanne after his appetitHe takth a fode of such delit,That him non other deynte nedeth.Of sondri sihtes he him fedeth:He seth hire face of such colour,That freisshere is than eny flour,He seth hire front is large and pleinWithoute fronce of eny grein,770He seth hire yhen lich an hevene,He seth hire nase strauht and evene,He seth hire rode upon the cheke,He seth hire rede lippes eke,Hire chyn acordeth to the face,Al that he seth is full of grace,He seth hire necke round and clene,Therinne mai no bon be sene,He seth hire handes faire and whyte;For al this thing without wyte780He mai se naked ate leste,So is it wel the more festeAnd wel the mor DelicacieUnto the fiedinge of myn yhe.783P. iii. 28He seth hire schapthe forth withal,784Hire bodi round, hire middel smal,So wel begon with good array,Which passeth al the lust of Maii,Whan he is most with softe schouresFul clothed in his lusti floures.790With suche sihtes by and byMin yhe is fed; bot finaly,Whan he the port and the manereSeth of hire wommanysshe chere,Than hath he such delice on honde,Him thenkth he mihte stille stonde,And that he hath ful sufficanceOf liflode and of sustienanceAs to his part for everemo.And if it thoghte alle othre so,800Fro thenne wolde he nevere wende,Bot there unto the worldes endeHe wolde abyde, if that he mihte,And fieden him upon the syhte.For thogh I mihte stonden ayInto the time of domesdayAnd loke upon hire evere in on,Yit whanne I scholde fro hire gon,Min yhe wolde, as thogh he faste,Ben hungerstorven al so faste,810Til efte ayein that he hire syhe.Such is the nature of myn yhe:Ther is no lust so deintefull,Of which a man schal noght be full,P. iii. 29Of that the stomac underfongeth,Bot evere in on myn yhe longeth:For loke hou that a goshauk tireth,Riht so doth he, whan that he pirethAnd toteth on hire wommanhiede;For he mai nevere fulli fiede820His lust, bot evere aliche soreHim hungreth, so that he the moreDesireth to be fed algate:And thus myn yhe is mad the gate,Thurgh which the deyntes of my thoghtOf lust ben to myn herte broght.Riht as myn yhe with his lok785Is to myn herte a lusti cocOf loves fode delicat,Qualiter auris in amore delectatur.Riht so myn Ere in his astat,830Wher as myn yhe mai noght serve,Can wel myn hertes thonk deserveAnd fieden him fro day to dayWith suche deyntes as he may.For thus it is, that overal,Wher as I come in special,I mai hiere of mi ladi pris;I hiere on seith that sche is wys,786An other seith that sche is good,And som men sein, of worthi blod840That sche is come, and is also787So fair, that nawher is non so;And som men preise hire goodli chiere:Thus every thing that I mai hiere,P. iii. 30Which souneth to mi ladi goode,Is to myn Ere a lusti foode.And ek min Ere hath over thisA deynte feste, whan so isThat I mai hiere hirselve speke;For thanne anon mi faste I breke850On suche wordes as sche seith,That full of trouthe and full of feithThei ben, and of so good desport,That to myn Ere gret confortThei don, as thei that ben delices.For al the metes and the spices,788That eyn Lombard couthe make,Ne be so lusti forto takeNe so ferforth restauratif,I seie as for myn oghne lif,860As ben the wordes of hire mouth:For as the wyndes of the SouthBen most of alle debonaire,So whan hir list to speke faire,The vertu of hire goodly specheIs verraily myn hertes leche.And if it so befalle among,That sche carole upon a song,Whan I it hiere I am so fedd,That I am fro miself so ledd,870As thogh I were in paradis;For certes, as to myn avis,Whan I here of hir vois the stevene,Me thenkth it is a blisse of hevene.P. iii. 31And ek in other wise alsoFulofte time it falleth so,Min Ere with a good pitanceIs fedd of redinge of romanceOf Ydoine and of Amadas,That whilom weren in mi cas,880And eke of othre many a score,That loveden longe er I was bore.For whan I of here loves rede,Min Ere with the tale I fede;And with the lust of here histoireSomtime I drawe into memoireHou sorwe mai noght evere laste;And so comth hope in ate laste,Whan I non other fode knowe.And that endureth bot a throwe,890Riht as it were a cherie feste;Bot forto compten ate leste,789As for the while yit it esethAnd somdel of myn herte appeseth:For what thing to myn Ere spreedeth,Which is plesant, somdel it feedethWith wordes suche as he mai geteMi lust, in stede of other mete.Amans.Lo thus, mi fader, as I seie,790Of lust the which myn yhe hath seie,900And ek of that myn Ere hath herd,Fulofte I have the betre ferd.And tho tuo bringen in the thridde,The which hath in myn herte amiddeP. iii. 32His place take, to arraieThe lusti fode, which assaie791I mot; and nameliche on nyhtes,Whan that me lacketh alle sihtes,And that myn heringe is aweie,Thanne is he redy in the weie910Mi reresouper forto make,Of which myn hertes fode I take.This lusti cokes name is hoteThoght, which hath evere hise pottes hoteQualiter cogitatus impressiones leticie ymaginatiuas cordibus inserit amantum.Of love buillende on the fyrWith fantasie and with desir,Of whiche er this fulofte he feddeMin herte, whanne I was abedde;And thanne he set upon my bordBothe every syhte and every word920Of lust, which I have herd or sein.Bot yit is noght mi feste al plein,Bot al of woldes and of wisshes,Therof have I my fulle disshes,Bot as of fielinge and of tast,Yit mihte I nevere have o repast.And thus, as I have seid aforn,792I licke hony on the thorn,793And as who seith, upon the bridelI chiewe, so that al is ydel930As in effect the fode I have.Bot as a man that wolde him save,Whan he is sek, be medicine,Riht so of love the famineP. iii. 33I fonde in al that evere I maiTo fiede and dryve forth the day,Til I mai have the grete feste,Which al myn hunger myhte areste.Lo suche ben mi lustes thre;Of that I thenke and hiere and se940I take of love my fiedingeWithoute tastinge or fielinge:And as the Plover doth of EirI live, and am in good espeirThat for no such delicacieI trowe I do no glotonie.794And natheles to youre avis,Min holi fader, that be wis,I recomande myn astatOf that I have be delicat.950Confessor.Mi Sone, I understonde welThat thou hast told hier everydel,And as me thenketh be thi tale,It ben delices wonder smale,Wherof thou takst thi loves fode.Bot, Sone, if that thou understodeWhat is to ben delicious,Thou woldest noght be curiousUpon the lust of thin astatTo ben to sore delicat,960Wherof that thou reson excede:For in the bokes thou myht rede,If mannes wisdom schal be suied,It oghte wel to ben eschuied795P. iii. 34In love als wel as other weie;[Delicacy.]For, as these holi bokes seie,Delicie corporis militant aduersus animam.The bodely delices alleIn every point, hou so thei falle,Unto the Soule don grievance.And forto take in remembrance,970A tale acordant unto this,Which of gret understondinge isTo mannes soule resonable,796I thenke telle, and is no fable.[Dives and Lazarus.]Of Cristes word, who wole it rede,Hou that this vice is forto dredeHic ponit exemplum contra istos delicatos. Et narrat de diuite et Lazaro, quorum gestus797in euangelio Lucas euidencius describit.In thevangile it telleth plein,Which mot algate be certein,For Crist himself it berth witnesse.And thogh the clerk and the clergesse980In latin tunge it rede and singe,Yit for the more knoulechingeOf trouthe, which is good to wite,I schal declare as it is writeIn Engleissh, for thus it began.Crist seith: ‘Ther was a riche man,A mihti lord of gret astat,And he was ek so delicat798Of his clothing, that everydayOf pourpre and bisse he made him gay,990And eet and drank therto his filleAfter the lustes of his wille,As he which al stod in delice799And tok non hiede of thilke vice.P. iii. 35And as it scholde so betyde,A povere lazre upon a tydeCam to the gate and axed mete:Bot there mihte he nothing gete800His dedly hunger forto stanche;For he, which hadde his fulle panche1000Of alle lustes ate bord,Ne deigneth noght to speke a word,Onliche a Crumme forto yive,Wherof the povere myhte live801Upon the yifte of his almesse.Thus lai this povere in gret destresse802Acold and hungred ate gate,Fro which he mihte go no gate,803So was he wofulli besein.And as these holi bokes sein,8041010The houndes comen fro the halle,Wher that this sike man was falle,And as he lay ther forto die,The woundes of his maladieThei licken forto don him ese.Bot he was full of such desese,That he mai noght the deth eschape;Bot as it was that time schape,The Soule fro the bodi passeth,And he whom nothing overpasseth,1020The hihe god, up to the heveneHim tok, wher he hath set him eveneIn Habrahammes barm on hyh,805Wher he the hevene joie syhP. iii. 36And hadde al that he have wolde.And fell, as it befalle scholde,This riche man the same throwe806With soudein deth was overthrowe,And forth withouten eny wenteInto the helle straght he wente;8071030The fend into the fyr him drouh,Wher that he hadde peine ynouhOf flamme which that evere brenneth.And as his yhe aboute renneth,Toward the hevene he cast his lok,Wher that he syh and hiede tokHou Lazar set was in his SeAls ferr as evere he mihte seWith Habraham; and thanne he preideUnto the Patriarch and seide:1040“Send Lazar doun fro thilke Sete,And do that he his finger weteIn water, so that he mai droppeUpon my tunge, forto stoppeThe grete hete in which I brenne.”Bot Habraham answerde thenneAnd seide to him in this wise:“Mi Sone, thou thee miht avise808And take into thi remembrance,Hou Lazar hadde gret penance,1050Whyl he was in that other lif,Bot thou in al thi lust jolifThe bodily delices soghtest:Forthi, so as thou thanne wroghtest,P. iii. 37Nou schalt thou take thi rewardOf dedly peine hierafterwardIn helle, which schal evere laste;And this Lazar nou ate lasteThe worldes peine is overronne,In hevene and hath his lif begonne1060Of joie, which is endeles.Bot that thou preidest natheles,That I schal Lazar to the sendeWith water on his finger ende,Thin hote tunge forto kiele,Thou schalt no suche graces fiele;For to that foule place of Sinne,For evere in which thou schalt ben inne,Comth non out of this place thider,Ne non of you mai comen hider;1070Thus be yee parted nou atuo.”The riche ayeinward cride tho:“O Habraham, sithe it so is,That Lazar mai noght do me thisWhich I have axed in this place,I wolde preie an other grace.For I have yit of brethren fyve,That with mi fader ben alyveTogedre duellende in on hous;To whom, as thou art gracious,1080I preie that thou woldest sendeLazar, so that he mihte wendeTo warne hem hou the world is went,That afterward thei be noght schentP. iii. 38Of suche peines as I drye.809Lo, this I preie and this I crie,Now I may noght miself amende.”The Patriarch anon suiendeTo his preiere ansuerde nay;810And seide him hou that everyday1090His brethren mihten knowe and hiereOf Moïses on Erthe hiereAnd of prophetes othre mo,What hem was best. And he seith no;Bot if ther mihte a man aryseFro deth to lyve in such a wise,To tellen hem hou that it were,He seide hou thanne of pure fere811Thei scholden wel be war therby.Quod Habraham: “Nay sikerly;8121100For if thei nou wol noght obeieTo suche as techen hem the weie,And alday preche and alday telleHou that it stant of hevene and helle,Thei wol noght thanne taken hiede,813Thogh it befelle so in dedeThat eny ded man were arered,814To ben of him no betre leredThan of an other man alyve.”815Confessor.If thou, mi Sone, canst descryve1110This tale, as Crist himself it tolde,Thou schalt have cause to beholde,816To se so gret an evidence,Wherof the sothe experienceP. iii. 39Hath schewed openliche at ÿe,That bodili delicacieOf him which yeveth non almesseSchal after falle in gret destresse.And that was sene upon the riche:For he ne wolde unto his liche1120A Crumme yiven of his bred,Thanne afterward, whan he was ded,A drope of water him was werned.Thus mai a mannes wit be lernedOf hem that so delices taken;Whan thei with deth ben overtaken,That erst was swete is thanne sour.Bot he that is a governourOf worldes good, if he be wys,Withinne his herte he set no pris1130Of al the world, and yit he usethThe good, that he nothing refuseth,As he which lord is of the thinges.The Nouches and the riche ringes,The cloth of gold and the PerrieHe takth, and yit delicacieHe leveth, thogh he were al this.The beste mete that ther isHe ett, and drinkth the beste drinke;Bot hou that evere he ete or drinke,1140Delicacie he put aweie,As he which goth the rihte weieNoght only forto fiede and clotheHis bodi, bot his soule bothe.P. iii. 40Bot thei that taken otherwiseHere lustes, ben none of the wise;817And that whilom was schewed eke,If thou these olde bokes seke,Als wel be reson as be kinde,Of olde ensample as men mai finde.1150
[Galba and Vitellius.]I rede in a Cronique thusOf Galba and of Vitellus,Hic loquitur specialiter contra vicium illorum, qui nimia potacione quasi ex consuetudine ebriosi efficiuntur. Et narrat exemplum de Galba et Vitello, qui potentes in Hispania principes fuerunt, set ipsi cotidiane ebrietatis potibus assueti, tanta vicinis intulerunt enormia, quod tandem760toto conclamante populo pena sentencie capitalis in eos iudicialiter diffinita est: qui priusquam morerentur, vt penam mortis alleuiarent, spontanea vini ebrietate sopiti, quasi porci semimortui gladio interierunt.758The whiche of Spaigne bothe wereThe greteste of alle othre there,540And bothe of o condicionAfter the disposicionOf glotonie and drunkeschipe.759That was a sori felaschipe:For this thou miht wel understonde,That man mai wel noght longe stondeWhich is wyndrunke of comun us;For he hath lore the vertus,Wherof reson him scholde clothe;And that was seene upon hem bothe.550P. iii. 20Men sein ther is non evidence,Wherof to knowe a differenceBetwen the drunken and the wode,For thei be nevere nouther goode;761For wher that wyn doth wit aweie,Wisdom hath lost the rihte weie,That he no maner vice dredeth;Nomore than a blind man thredethHis nedle be the Sonnes lyht,762Nomore is reson thanne of myht,560Whan he with drunkeschipe is blent.And in this point thei weren schent,This Galba bothe and ek Vitelle,Upon the cause as I schal telle,Wherof good is to taken hiede.For thei tuo thurgh her drunkenhiedeOf witles excitaciounOppressede al the nacionOf Spaigne; for of fool usance,763Which don was of continuance570Of hem, whiche alday drunken were,Ther was no wif ne maiden there,What so thei were, or faire or foule,Whom thei ne token to defoule,Wherof the lond was often wo:And ek in othre thinges moThei wroghten many a sondri wrong.Bot hou so that the dai be long,The derke nyht comth ate laste:God wolde noght thei scholden laste,580P. iii. 21And schop the lawe in such a wise,That thei thurgh dom to the juiseBe dampned forto be forlore.Bot thei, that hadden ben toforeEnclin to alle drunkenesse,—Here ende thanne bar witnesse;For thei in hope to assuageThe peine of deth, upon the rageThat thei the lasse scholden fiele,Of wyn let fille full a Miele,764590And dronken til so was befalleThat thei her strengthes losten alleWithouten wit of eny brain;And thus thei ben halfdede slain,That hem ne grieveth bot a lyte.Confessor.Mi Sone, if thou be forto wyteIn eny point which I have seid,Wherof thi wittes ben unteid,I rede clepe hem hom ayein.765Amans.I schal do, fader, as ye sein,600Als ferforth as I mai suffise:Bot wel I wot that in no wiseThe drunkeschipe of love aweieI mai remue be no weie,It stant noght upon my fortune.Bot if you liste to comuneOf the seconde Glotonie,Which cleped is Delicacie,Wherof ye spieken hier tofore,Beseche I wolde you therfore.610Confessor.P. iii. 22Mi Sone, as of that ilke vice,Which of alle othre is the Norrice,And stant upon the retenueOf Venus, so as it is due,The proprete hou that it farethThe bok hierafter nou declareth.
[Galba and Vitellius.]
I rede in a Cronique thus
Of Galba and of Vitellus,
Hic loquitur specialiter contra vicium illorum, qui nimia potacione quasi ex consuetudine ebriosi efficiuntur. Et narrat exemplum de Galba et Vitello, qui potentes in Hispania principes fuerunt, set ipsi cotidiane ebrietatis potibus assueti, tanta vicinis intulerunt enormia, quod tandem760toto conclamante populo pena sentencie capitalis in eos iudicialiter diffinita est: qui priusquam morerentur, vt penam mortis alleuiarent, spontanea vini ebrietate sopiti, quasi porci semimortui gladio interierunt.758
The whiche of Spaigne bothe were
The greteste of alle othre there,540
And bothe of o condicion
After the disposicion
Of glotonie and drunkeschipe.759
That was a sori felaschipe:
For this thou miht wel understonde,
That man mai wel noght longe stonde
Which is wyndrunke of comun us;
For he hath lore the vertus,
Wherof reson him scholde clothe;
And that was seene upon hem bothe.550
P. iii. 20
Men sein ther is non evidence,
Wherof to knowe a difference
Betwen the drunken and the wode,
For thei be nevere nouther goode;761
For wher that wyn doth wit aweie,
Wisdom hath lost the rihte weie,
That he no maner vice dredeth;
Nomore than a blind man thredeth
His nedle be the Sonnes lyht,762
Nomore is reson thanne of myht,560
Whan he with drunkeschipe is blent.
And in this point thei weren schent,
This Galba bothe and ek Vitelle,
Upon the cause as I schal telle,
Wherof good is to taken hiede.
For thei tuo thurgh her drunkenhiede
Of witles excitacioun
Oppressede al the nacion
Of Spaigne; for of fool usance,763
Which don was of continuance570
Of hem, whiche alday drunken were,
Ther was no wif ne maiden there,
What so thei were, or faire or foule,
Whom thei ne token to defoule,
Wherof the lond was often wo:
And ek in othre thinges mo
Thei wroghten many a sondri wrong.
Bot hou so that the dai be long,
The derke nyht comth ate laste:
God wolde noght thei scholden laste,580
P. iii. 21
And schop the lawe in such a wise,
That thei thurgh dom to the juise
Be dampned forto be forlore.
Bot thei, that hadden ben tofore
Enclin to alle drunkenesse,—
Here ende thanne bar witnesse;
For thei in hope to assuage
The peine of deth, upon the rage
That thei the lasse scholden fiele,
Of wyn let fille full a Miele,764590
And dronken til so was befalle
That thei her strengthes losten alle
Withouten wit of eny brain;
And thus thei ben halfdede slain,
That hem ne grieveth bot a lyte.
Confessor.
Mi Sone, if thou be forto wyte
In eny point which I have seid,
Wherof thi wittes ben unteid,
I rede clepe hem hom ayein.765
Amans.
I schal do, fader, as ye sein,600
Als ferforth as I mai suffise:
Bot wel I wot that in no wise
The drunkeschipe of love aweie
I mai remue be no weie,
It stant noght upon my fortune.
Bot if you liste to comune
Of the seconde Glotonie,
Which cleped is Delicacie,
Wherof ye spieken hier tofore,
Beseche I wolde you therfore.610
Confessor.
P. iii. 22
Mi Sone, as of that ilke vice,
Which of alle othre is the Norrice,
And stant upon the retenue
Of Venus, so as it is due,
The proprete hou that it fareth
The bok hierafter nou declareth.
[Delicacy.]ii.Delicie cum diuiciis sunt iura potentum,In quibus orta Venus excitat ora gule.Non sunt delicie tales, que corpora pascunt,Ex quibus impletus gaudia venter agit,Quin completus amor maiori munere gaudet,Cum data deliciis mens in amante satur.766
[Delicacy.]
ii.Delicie cum diuiciis sunt iura potentum,
In quibus orta Venus excitat ora gule.
Non sunt delicie tales, que corpora pascunt,
Ex quibus impletus gaudia venter agit,
Quin completus amor maiori munere gaudet,
Cum data deliciis mens in amante satur.766
Of this chapitre in which we treteThere is yit on of such diete,Hic tractat super illa specie Gule que Delicacia nuncupatur, cuius mollicies767voluptuose carni in personis precipue potentibus queque768complacencia corporaliter ministrat.To which no povere mai atteigne;For al is Past of paindemeine769620And sondri wyn and sondri drinke,Wherof that he wole ete and drinke:Hise cokes ben for him affaited,So that his body is awaited,That him schal lacke no delit,Als ferforth as his appetitSufficeth to the metes hote.Wherof this lusti vice is hoteOf Gule the Delicacie,Which al the hole progenie630Of lusti folk hath undertakeTo feede, whil that he mai takeRichesses wherof to be founde:770Of Abstinence he wot no bounde,To what profit it scholde serve.And yit phisique of his conserveP. iii. 23Makth many a restauraciounUnto his recreacioun,Which wolde be to Venus lief.Thus for the point of his relief640The coc which schal his mete arraie,Bot he the betre his mouth assaie,His lordes thonk schal ofte lese,Er he be served to the chese:For ther mai lacke noght so lyte,That he ne fint anon a wyte;For bot his lust be fully served,771Ther hath no wiht his thonk deserved.And yit for mannes sustenance,To kepe and holde in governance,650To him that wole his hele geteIs non so good as comun mete:For who that loketh on the bokes,772It seith, confeccion of cokes,A man him scholde wel aviseHou he it toke and in what wise.For who that useth that he knoweth,Ful selden seknesse on him groweth,And who that useth metes strange,Though his nature empeire and change660It is no wonder, lieve Sone,Whan that he doth ayein his wone;Philosophus. Consuetudo est altera natura.For in Phisique this I finde,Usage is the seconde kinde.773P. iii. 24[Love-Delicacy.]And riht so changeth his astat774He that of love is delicat:For though he hadde to his hondThe beste wif of al the lond,Or the faireste love of alle,Yit wolde his herte on othre falle670And thenke hem mor deliciousThan he hath in his oghne hous:Men sein it is nou ofte so;775Avise hem wel, thei that so do.And forto speke in other weie,Fulofte time I have herd seie,That he which hath no love achieved,Him thenkth that he is noght relieved,Thogh that his ladi make him chiere,So as sche mai in good manere680Hir honour and hir name save,776Bot he the surplus mihte have.Nothing withstondende hire astat,Of love more delicatHe set hire chiere at no delit,Bot he have al his appetit.777Mi Sone, if it be with thee so,Tell me.Confessio Amantis.Myn holi fader, no:For delicat in such a wiseOf love, as ye to me devise,690Ne was I nevere yit gultif;For if I hadde such a wifAs ye speke of, what scholde I more?For thanne I wolde neveremoreP. iii. 25For lust of eny wommanhiedeMyn herte upon non other fiede:And if I dede, it were a wast.Bot al withoute such repastOf lust, as ye me tolde above,Of wif, or yit of other love,700I faste, and mai no fode gete;So that for lacke of deinte mete,Of which an herte mai be fedd,I go fastende to my bedd.Bot myhte I geten, as ye tolde,So mochel that mi ladi woldeMe fede with hir glad semblant,Though me lacke al the remenant,Yit scholde I somdel ben abechedAnd for the time wel refreched.710Bot certes, fader, sche ne doth;For in good feith, to telle soth,I trowe, thogh I scholde sterve,Sche wolde noght hire yhe swerve,Min herte with o goodly lok778To fede, and thus for such a cokI mai go fastinge everemo:Bot if so is that eny woMai fede a mannes herte wel,Therof I have at every meel720Of plente more than ynowh;Bot that is of himself so towh,Mi stomac mai it noght defie.Lo, such is the delicacieP. iii. 26Of love, which myn herte fedeth;Thus have I lacke of that me nedeth.Bot for al this yit nathelesI seie noght I am gylteles,That I somdel am delicat:For elles were I fulli mat,730Bot if that I som lusti stoundeOf confort and of ese founde,To take of love som repast;For thogh I with the fulle tast779The lust of love mai noght fiele,Min hunger otherwise I kieleOf smale lustes whiche I pike,And for a time yit thei like;If that ye wisten what I mene.Confessor.Nou, goode Sone, schrif thee clene740Of suche deyntes as ben goode,Wherof thou takst thin hertes fode.Confessio Amantis.Mi fader, I you schal reherce,Hou that mi fodes ben diverse,So as thei fallen in degre.O fiedinge is of that I se,780An other is of that I here,The thridde, as I schal tellen here,It groweth of min oghne thoght:And elles scholde I live noght;750For whom that failleth fode of herte,781He mai noght wel the deth asterte.Of sihte is al mi ferste fode,Nota qualiter visus in amore se continet delicatus.Thurgh which myn yhe of alle goodeP. iii. 27Hath that to him is acordant,A lusti fode sufficant.Whan that I go toward the placeWher I schal se my ladi face,Min yhe, which is loth to faste,Beginth to hungre anon so faste,760That him thenkth of on houre thre,Til I ther come and he hire se:782And thanne after his appetitHe takth a fode of such delit,That him non other deynte nedeth.Of sondri sihtes he him fedeth:He seth hire face of such colour,That freisshere is than eny flour,He seth hire front is large and pleinWithoute fronce of eny grein,770He seth hire yhen lich an hevene,He seth hire nase strauht and evene,He seth hire rode upon the cheke,He seth hire rede lippes eke,Hire chyn acordeth to the face,Al that he seth is full of grace,He seth hire necke round and clene,Therinne mai no bon be sene,He seth hire handes faire and whyte;For al this thing without wyte780He mai se naked ate leste,So is it wel the more festeAnd wel the mor DelicacieUnto the fiedinge of myn yhe.783P. iii. 28He seth hire schapthe forth withal,784Hire bodi round, hire middel smal,So wel begon with good array,Which passeth al the lust of Maii,Whan he is most with softe schouresFul clothed in his lusti floures.790With suche sihtes by and byMin yhe is fed; bot finaly,Whan he the port and the manereSeth of hire wommanysshe chere,Than hath he such delice on honde,Him thenkth he mihte stille stonde,And that he hath ful sufficanceOf liflode and of sustienanceAs to his part for everemo.And if it thoghte alle othre so,800Fro thenne wolde he nevere wende,Bot there unto the worldes endeHe wolde abyde, if that he mihte,And fieden him upon the syhte.For thogh I mihte stonden ayInto the time of domesdayAnd loke upon hire evere in on,Yit whanne I scholde fro hire gon,Min yhe wolde, as thogh he faste,Ben hungerstorven al so faste,810Til efte ayein that he hire syhe.Such is the nature of myn yhe:Ther is no lust so deintefull,Of which a man schal noght be full,P. iii. 29Of that the stomac underfongeth,Bot evere in on myn yhe longeth:For loke hou that a goshauk tireth,Riht so doth he, whan that he pirethAnd toteth on hire wommanhiede;For he mai nevere fulli fiede820His lust, bot evere aliche soreHim hungreth, so that he the moreDesireth to be fed algate:And thus myn yhe is mad the gate,Thurgh which the deyntes of my thoghtOf lust ben to myn herte broght.Riht as myn yhe with his lok785Is to myn herte a lusti cocOf loves fode delicat,Qualiter auris in amore delectatur.Riht so myn Ere in his astat,830Wher as myn yhe mai noght serve,Can wel myn hertes thonk deserveAnd fieden him fro day to dayWith suche deyntes as he may.For thus it is, that overal,Wher as I come in special,I mai hiere of mi ladi pris;I hiere on seith that sche is wys,786An other seith that sche is good,And som men sein, of worthi blod840That sche is come, and is also787So fair, that nawher is non so;And som men preise hire goodli chiere:Thus every thing that I mai hiere,P. iii. 30Which souneth to mi ladi goode,Is to myn Ere a lusti foode.And ek min Ere hath over thisA deynte feste, whan so isThat I mai hiere hirselve speke;For thanne anon mi faste I breke850On suche wordes as sche seith,That full of trouthe and full of feithThei ben, and of so good desport,That to myn Ere gret confortThei don, as thei that ben delices.For al the metes and the spices,788That eyn Lombard couthe make,Ne be so lusti forto takeNe so ferforth restauratif,I seie as for myn oghne lif,860As ben the wordes of hire mouth:For as the wyndes of the SouthBen most of alle debonaire,So whan hir list to speke faire,The vertu of hire goodly specheIs verraily myn hertes leche.And if it so befalle among,That sche carole upon a song,Whan I it hiere I am so fedd,That I am fro miself so ledd,870As thogh I were in paradis;For certes, as to myn avis,Whan I here of hir vois the stevene,Me thenkth it is a blisse of hevene.P. iii. 31And ek in other wise alsoFulofte time it falleth so,Min Ere with a good pitanceIs fedd of redinge of romanceOf Ydoine and of Amadas,That whilom weren in mi cas,880And eke of othre many a score,That loveden longe er I was bore.For whan I of here loves rede,Min Ere with the tale I fede;And with the lust of here histoireSomtime I drawe into memoireHou sorwe mai noght evere laste;And so comth hope in ate laste,Whan I non other fode knowe.And that endureth bot a throwe,890Riht as it were a cherie feste;Bot forto compten ate leste,789As for the while yit it esethAnd somdel of myn herte appeseth:For what thing to myn Ere spreedeth,Which is plesant, somdel it feedethWith wordes suche as he mai geteMi lust, in stede of other mete.Amans.Lo thus, mi fader, as I seie,790Of lust the which myn yhe hath seie,900And ek of that myn Ere hath herd,Fulofte I have the betre ferd.And tho tuo bringen in the thridde,The which hath in myn herte amiddeP. iii. 32His place take, to arraieThe lusti fode, which assaie791I mot; and nameliche on nyhtes,Whan that me lacketh alle sihtes,And that myn heringe is aweie,Thanne is he redy in the weie910Mi reresouper forto make,Of which myn hertes fode I take.This lusti cokes name is hoteThoght, which hath evere hise pottes hoteQualiter cogitatus impressiones leticie ymaginatiuas cordibus inserit amantum.Of love buillende on the fyrWith fantasie and with desir,Of whiche er this fulofte he feddeMin herte, whanne I was abedde;And thanne he set upon my bordBothe every syhte and every word920Of lust, which I have herd or sein.Bot yit is noght mi feste al plein,Bot al of woldes and of wisshes,Therof have I my fulle disshes,Bot as of fielinge and of tast,Yit mihte I nevere have o repast.And thus, as I have seid aforn,792I licke hony on the thorn,793And as who seith, upon the bridelI chiewe, so that al is ydel930As in effect the fode I have.Bot as a man that wolde him save,Whan he is sek, be medicine,Riht so of love the famineP. iii. 33I fonde in al that evere I maiTo fiede and dryve forth the day,Til I mai have the grete feste,Which al myn hunger myhte areste.Lo suche ben mi lustes thre;Of that I thenke and hiere and se940I take of love my fiedingeWithoute tastinge or fielinge:And as the Plover doth of EirI live, and am in good espeirThat for no such delicacieI trowe I do no glotonie.794And natheles to youre avis,Min holi fader, that be wis,I recomande myn astatOf that I have be delicat.950Confessor.Mi Sone, I understonde welThat thou hast told hier everydel,And as me thenketh be thi tale,It ben delices wonder smale,Wherof thou takst thi loves fode.Bot, Sone, if that thou understodeWhat is to ben delicious,Thou woldest noght be curiousUpon the lust of thin astatTo ben to sore delicat,960Wherof that thou reson excede:For in the bokes thou myht rede,If mannes wisdom schal be suied,It oghte wel to ben eschuied795P. iii. 34In love als wel as other weie;[Delicacy.]For, as these holi bokes seie,Delicie corporis militant aduersus animam.The bodely delices alleIn every point, hou so thei falle,Unto the Soule don grievance.And forto take in remembrance,970A tale acordant unto this,Which of gret understondinge isTo mannes soule resonable,796I thenke telle, and is no fable.
Of this chapitre in which we trete
There is yit on of such diete,
Hic tractat super illa specie Gule que Delicacia nuncupatur, cuius mollicies767voluptuose carni in personis precipue potentibus queque768complacencia corporaliter ministrat.
To which no povere mai atteigne;
For al is Past of paindemeine769620
And sondri wyn and sondri drinke,
Wherof that he wole ete and drinke:
Hise cokes ben for him affaited,
So that his body is awaited,
That him schal lacke no delit,
Als ferforth as his appetit
Sufficeth to the metes hote.
Wherof this lusti vice is hote
Of Gule the Delicacie,
Which al the hole progenie630
Of lusti folk hath undertake
To feede, whil that he mai take
Richesses wherof to be founde:770
Of Abstinence he wot no bounde,
To what profit it scholde serve.
And yit phisique of his conserve
P. iii. 23
Makth many a restauracioun
Unto his recreacioun,
Which wolde be to Venus lief.
Thus for the point of his relief640
The coc which schal his mete arraie,
Bot he the betre his mouth assaie,
His lordes thonk schal ofte lese,
Er he be served to the chese:
For ther mai lacke noght so lyte,
That he ne fint anon a wyte;
For bot his lust be fully served,771
Ther hath no wiht his thonk deserved.
And yit for mannes sustenance,
To kepe and holde in governance,650
To him that wole his hele gete
Is non so good as comun mete:
For who that loketh on the bokes,772
It seith, confeccion of cokes,
A man him scholde wel avise
Hou he it toke and in what wise.
For who that useth that he knoweth,
Ful selden seknesse on him groweth,
And who that useth metes strange,
Though his nature empeire and change660
It is no wonder, lieve Sone,
Whan that he doth ayein his wone;
Philosophus. Consuetudo est altera natura.
For in Phisique this I finde,
Usage is the seconde kinde.773
P. iii. 24
[Love-Delicacy.]
And riht so changeth his astat774
He that of love is delicat:
For though he hadde to his hond
The beste wif of al the lond,
Or the faireste love of alle,
Yit wolde his herte on othre falle670
And thenke hem mor delicious
Than he hath in his oghne hous:
Men sein it is nou ofte so;775
Avise hem wel, thei that so do.
And forto speke in other weie,
Fulofte time I have herd seie,
That he which hath no love achieved,
Him thenkth that he is noght relieved,
Thogh that his ladi make him chiere,
So as sche mai in good manere680
Hir honour and hir name save,776
Bot he the surplus mihte have.
Nothing withstondende hire astat,
Of love more delicat
He set hire chiere at no delit,
Bot he have al his appetit.777
Mi Sone, if it be with thee so,
Tell me.
Confessio Amantis.
Myn holi fader, no:
For delicat in such a wise
Of love, as ye to me devise,690
Ne was I nevere yit gultif;
For if I hadde such a wif
As ye speke of, what scholde I more?
For thanne I wolde neveremore
P. iii. 25
For lust of eny wommanhiede
Myn herte upon non other fiede:
And if I dede, it were a wast.
Bot al withoute such repast
Of lust, as ye me tolde above,
Of wif, or yit of other love,700
I faste, and mai no fode gete;
So that for lacke of deinte mete,
Of which an herte mai be fedd,
I go fastende to my bedd.
Bot myhte I geten, as ye tolde,
So mochel that mi ladi wolde
Me fede with hir glad semblant,
Though me lacke al the remenant,
Yit scholde I somdel ben abeched
And for the time wel refreched.710
Bot certes, fader, sche ne doth;
For in good feith, to telle soth,
I trowe, thogh I scholde sterve,
Sche wolde noght hire yhe swerve,
Min herte with o goodly lok778
To fede, and thus for such a cok
I mai go fastinge everemo:
Bot if so is that eny wo
Mai fede a mannes herte wel,
Therof I have at every meel720
Of plente more than ynowh;
Bot that is of himself so towh,
Mi stomac mai it noght defie.
Lo, such is the delicacie
P. iii. 26
Of love, which myn herte fedeth;
Thus have I lacke of that me nedeth.
Bot for al this yit natheles
I seie noght I am gylteles,
That I somdel am delicat:
For elles were I fulli mat,730
Bot if that I som lusti stounde
Of confort and of ese founde,
To take of love som repast;
For thogh I with the fulle tast779
The lust of love mai noght fiele,
Min hunger otherwise I kiele
Of smale lustes whiche I pike,
And for a time yit thei like;
If that ye wisten what I mene.
Confessor.
Nou, goode Sone, schrif thee clene740
Of suche deyntes as ben goode,
Wherof thou takst thin hertes fode.
Confessio Amantis.
Mi fader, I you schal reherce,
Hou that mi fodes ben diverse,
So as thei fallen in degre.
O fiedinge is of that I se,780
An other is of that I here,
The thridde, as I schal tellen here,
It groweth of min oghne thoght:
And elles scholde I live noght;750
For whom that failleth fode of herte,781
He mai noght wel the deth asterte.
Of sihte is al mi ferste fode,
Nota qualiter visus in amore se continet delicatus.
Thurgh which myn yhe of alle goode
P. iii. 27
Hath that to him is acordant,
A lusti fode sufficant.
Whan that I go toward the place
Wher I schal se my ladi face,
Min yhe, which is loth to faste,
Beginth to hungre anon so faste,760
That him thenkth of on houre thre,
Til I ther come and he hire se:782
And thanne after his appetit
He takth a fode of such delit,
That him non other deynte nedeth.
Of sondri sihtes he him fedeth:
He seth hire face of such colour,
That freisshere is than eny flour,
He seth hire front is large and plein
Withoute fronce of eny grein,770
He seth hire yhen lich an hevene,
He seth hire nase strauht and evene,
He seth hire rode upon the cheke,
He seth hire rede lippes eke,
Hire chyn acordeth to the face,
Al that he seth is full of grace,
He seth hire necke round and clene,
Therinne mai no bon be sene,
He seth hire handes faire and whyte;
For al this thing without wyte780
He mai se naked ate leste,
So is it wel the more feste
And wel the mor Delicacie
Unto the fiedinge of myn yhe.783
P. iii. 28
He seth hire schapthe forth withal,784
Hire bodi round, hire middel smal,
So wel begon with good array,
Which passeth al the lust of Maii,
Whan he is most with softe schoures
Ful clothed in his lusti floures.790
With suche sihtes by and by
Min yhe is fed; bot finaly,
Whan he the port and the manere
Seth of hire wommanysshe chere,
Than hath he such delice on honde,
Him thenkth he mihte stille stonde,
And that he hath ful sufficance
Of liflode and of sustienance
As to his part for everemo.
And if it thoghte alle othre so,800
Fro thenne wolde he nevere wende,
Bot there unto the worldes ende
He wolde abyde, if that he mihte,
And fieden him upon the syhte.
For thogh I mihte stonden ay
Into the time of domesday
And loke upon hire evere in on,
Yit whanne I scholde fro hire gon,
Min yhe wolde, as thogh he faste,
Ben hungerstorven al so faste,810
Til efte ayein that he hire syhe.
Such is the nature of myn yhe:
Ther is no lust so deintefull,
Of which a man schal noght be full,
P. iii. 29
Of that the stomac underfongeth,
Bot evere in on myn yhe longeth:
For loke hou that a goshauk tireth,
Riht so doth he, whan that he pireth
And toteth on hire wommanhiede;
For he mai nevere fulli fiede820
His lust, bot evere aliche sore
Him hungreth, so that he the more
Desireth to be fed algate:
And thus myn yhe is mad the gate,
Thurgh which the deyntes of my thoght
Of lust ben to myn herte broght.
Riht as myn yhe with his lok785
Is to myn herte a lusti coc
Of loves fode delicat,
Qualiter auris in amore delectatur.
Riht so myn Ere in his astat,830
Wher as myn yhe mai noght serve,
Can wel myn hertes thonk deserve
And fieden him fro day to day
With suche deyntes as he may.
For thus it is, that overal,
Wher as I come in special,
I mai hiere of mi ladi pris;
I hiere on seith that sche is wys,786
An other seith that sche is good,
And som men sein, of worthi blod840
That sche is come, and is also787
So fair, that nawher is non so;
And som men preise hire goodli chiere:
Thus every thing that I mai hiere,
P. iii. 30
Which souneth to mi ladi goode,
Is to myn Ere a lusti foode.
And ek min Ere hath over this
A deynte feste, whan so is
That I mai hiere hirselve speke;
For thanne anon mi faste I breke850
On suche wordes as sche seith,
That full of trouthe and full of feith
Thei ben, and of so good desport,
That to myn Ere gret confort
Thei don, as thei that ben delices.
For al the metes and the spices,788
That eyn Lombard couthe make,
Ne be so lusti forto take
Ne so ferforth restauratif,
I seie as for myn oghne lif,860
As ben the wordes of hire mouth:
For as the wyndes of the South
Ben most of alle debonaire,
So whan hir list to speke faire,
The vertu of hire goodly speche
Is verraily myn hertes leche.
And if it so befalle among,
That sche carole upon a song,
Whan I it hiere I am so fedd,
That I am fro miself so ledd,870
As thogh I were in paradis;
For certes, as to myn avis,
Whan I here of hir vois the stevene,
Me thenkth it is a blisse of hevene.
P. iii. 31
And ek in other wise also
Fulofte time it falleth so,
Min Ere with a good pitance
Is fedd of redinge of romance
Of Ydoine and of Amadas,
That whilom weren in mi cas,880
And eke of othre many a score,
That loveden longe er I was bore.
For whan I of here loves rede,
Min Ere with the tale I fede;
And with the lust of here histoire
Somtime I drawe into memoire
Hou sorwe mai noght evere laste;
And so comth hope in ate laste,
Whan I non other fode knowe.
And that endureth bot a throwe,890
Riht as it were a cherie feste;
Bot forto compten ate leste,789
As for the while yit it eseth
And somdel of myn herte appeseth:
For what thing to myn Ere spreedeth,
Which is plesant, somdel it feedeth
With wordes suche as he mai gete
Mi lust, in stede of other mete.
Amans.
Lo thus, mi fader, as I seie,790
Of lust the which myn yhe hath seie,900
And ek of that myn Ere hath herd,
Fulofte I have the betre ferd.
And tho tuo bringen in the thridde,
The which hath in myn herte amidde
P. iii. 32
His place take, to arraie
The lusti fode, which assaie791
I mot; and nameliche on nyhtes,
Whan that me lacketh alle sihtes,
And that myn heringe is aweie,
Thanne is he redy in the weie910
Mi reresouper forto make,
Of which myn hertes fode I take.
This lusti cokes name is hote
Thoght, which hath evere hise pottes hote
Qualiter cogitatus impressiones leticie ymaginatiuas cordibus inserit amantum.
Of love buillende on the fyr
With fantasie and with desir,
Of whiche er this fulofte he fedde
Min herte, whanne I was abedde;
And thanne he set upon my bord
Bothe every syhte and every word920
Of lust, which I have herd or sein.
Bot yit is noght mi feste al plein,
Bot al of woldes and of wisshes,
Therof have I my fulle disshes,
Bot as of fielinge and of tast,
Yit mihte I nevere have o repast.
And thus, as I have seid aforn,792
I licke hony on the thorn,793
And as who seith, upon the bridel
I chiewe, so that al is ydel930
As in effect the fode I have.
Bot as a man that wolde him save,
Whan he is sek, be medicine,
Riht so of love the famine
P. iii. 33
I fonde in al that evere I mai
To fiede and dryve forth the day,
Til I mai have the grete feste,
Which al myn hunger myhte areste.
Lo suche ben mi lustes thre;
Of that I thenke and hiere and se940
I take of love my fiedinge
Withoute tastinge or fielinge:
And as the Plover doth of Eir
I live, and am in good espeir
That for no such delicacie
I trowe I do no glotonie.794
And natheles to youre avis,
Min holi fader, that be wis,
I recomande myn astat
Of that I have be delicat.950
Confessor.
Mi Sone, I understonde wel
That thou hast told hier everydel,
And as me thenketh be thi tale,
It ben delices wonder smale,
Wherof thou takst thi loves fode.
Bot, Sone, if that thou understode
What is to ben delicious,
Thou woldest noght be curious
Upon the lust of thin astat
To ben to sore delicat,960
Wherof that thou reson excede:
For in the bokes thou myht rede,
If mannes wisdom schal be suied,
It oghte wel to ben eschuied795
P. iii. 34
In love als wel as other weie;
[Delicacy.]
For, as these holi bokes seie,
Delicie corporis militant aduersus animam.
The bodely delices alle
In every point, hou so thei falle,
Unto the Soule don grievance.
And forto take in remembrance,970
A tale acordant unto this,
Which of gret understondinge is
To mannes soule resonable,796
I thenke telle, and is no fable.
[Dives and Lazarus.]Of Cristes word, who wole it rede,Hou that this vice is forto dredeHic ponit exemplum contra istos delicatos. Et narrat de diuite et Lazaro, quorum gestus797in euangelio Lucas euidencius describit.In thevangile it telleth plein,Which mot algate be certein,For Crist himself it berth witnesse.And thogh the clerk and the clergesse980In latin tunge it rede and singe,Yit for the more knoulechingeOf trouthe, which is good to wite,I schal declare as it is writeIn Engleissh, for thus it began.Crist seith: ‘Ther was a riche man,A mihti lord of gret astat,And he was ek so delicat798Of his clothing, that everydayOf pourpre and bisse he made him gay,990And eet and drank therto his filleAfter the lustes of his wille,As he which al stod in delice799And tok non hiede of thilke vice.P. iii. 35And as it scholde so betyde,A povere lazre upon a tydeCam to the gate and axed mete:Bot there mihte he nothing gete800His dedly hunger forto stanche;For he, which hadde his fulle panche1000Of alle lustes ate bord,Ne deigneth noght to speke a word,Onliche a Crumme forto yive,Wherof the povere myhte live801Upon the yifte of his almesse.Thus lai this povere in gret destresse802Acold and hungred ate gate,Fro which he mihte go no gate,803So was he wofulli besein.And as these holi bokes sein,8041010The houndes comen fro the halle,Wher that this sike man was falle,And as he lay ther forto die,The woundes of his maladieThei licken forto don him ese.Bot he was full of such desese,That he mai noght the deth eschape;Bot as it was that time schape,The Soule fro the bodi passeth,And he whom nothing overpasseth,1020The hihe god, up to the heveneHim tok, wher he hath set him eveneIn Habrahammes barm on hyh,805Wher he the hevene joie syhP. iii. 36And hadde al that he have wolde.And fell, as it befalle scholde,This riche man the same throwe806With soudein deth was overthrowe,And forth withouten eny wenteInto the helle straght he wente;8071030The fend into the fyr him drouh,Wher that he hadde peine ynouhOf flamme which that evere brenneth.And as his yhe aboute renneth,Toward the hevene he cast his lok,Wher that he syh and hiede tokHou Lazar set was in his SeAls ferr as evere he mihte seWith Habraham; and thanne he preideUnto the Patriarch and seide:1040“Send Lazar doun fro thilke Sete,And do that he his finger weteIn water, so that he mai droppeUpon my tunge, forto stoppeThe grete hete in which I brenne.”Bot Habraham answerde thenneAnd seide to him in this wise:“Mi Sone, thou thee miht avise808And take into thi remembrance,Hou Lazar hadde gret penance,1050Whyl he was in that other lif,Bot thou in al thi lust jolifThe bodily delices soghtest:Forthi, so as thou thanne wroghtest,P. iii. 37Nou schalt thou take thi rewardOf dedly peine hierafterwardIn helle, which schal evere laste;And this Lazar nou ate lasteThe worldes peine is overronne,In hevene and hath his lif begonne1060Of joie, which is endeles.Bot that thou preidest natheles,That I schal Lazar to the sendeWith water on his finger ende,Thin hote tunge forto kiele,Thou schalt no suche graces fiele;For to that foule place of Sinne,For evere in which thou schalt ben inne,Comth non out of this place thider,Ne non of you mai comen hider;1070Thus be yee parted nou atuo.”The riche ayeinward cride tho:“O Habraham, sithe it so is,That Lazar mai noght do me thisWhich I have axed in this place,I wolde preie an other grace.For I have yit of brethren fyve,That with mi fader ben alyveTogedre duellende in on hous;To whom, as thou art gracious,1080I preie that thou woldest sendeLazar, so that he mihte wendeTo warne hem hou the world is went,That afterward thei be noght schentP. iii. 38Of suche peines as I drye.809Lo, this I preie and this I crie,Now I may noght miself amende.”The Patriarch anon suiendeTo his preiere ansuerde nay;810And seide him hou that everyday1090His brethren mihten knowe and hiereOf Moïses on Erthe hiereAnd of prophetes othre mo,What hem was best. And he seith no;Bot if ther mihte a man aryseFro deth to lyve in such a wise,To tellen hem hou that it were,He seide hou thanne of pure fere811Thei scholden wel be war therby.Quod Habraham: “Nay sikerly;8121100For if thei nou wol noght obeieTo suche as techen hem the weie,And alday preche and alday telleHou that it stant of hevene and helle,Thei wol noght thanne taken hiede,813Thogh it befelle so in dedeThat eny ded man were arered,814To ben of him no betre leredThan of an other man alyve.”815Confessor.If thou, mi Sone, canst descryve1110This tale, as Crist himself it tolde,Thou schalt have cause to beholde,816To se so gret an evidence,Wherof the sothe experienceP. iii. 39Hath schewed openliche at ÿe,That bodili delicacieOf him which yeveth non almesseSchal after falle in gret destresse.And that was sene upon the riche:For he ne wolde unto his liche1120A Crumme yiven of his bred,Thanne afterward, whan he was ded,A drope of water him was werned.Thus mai a mannes wit be lernedOf hem that so delices taken;Whan thei with deth ben overtaken,That erst was swete is thanne sour.Bot he that is a governourOf worldes good, if he be wys,Withinne his herte he set no pris1130Of al the world, and yit he usethThe good, that he nothing refuseth,As he which lord is of the thinges.The Nouches and the riche ringes,The cloth of gold and the PerrieHe takth, and yit delicacieHe leveth, thogh he were al this.The beste mete that ther isHe ett, and drinkth the beste drinke;Bot hou that evere he ete or drinke,1140Delicacie he put aweie,As he which goth the rihte weieNoght only forto fiede and clotheHis bodi, bot his soule bothe.P. iii. 40Bot thei that taken otherwiseHere lustes, ben none of the wise;817And that whilom was schewed eke,If thou these olde bokes seke,Als wel be reson as be kinde,Of olde ensample as men mai finde.1150
[Dives and Lazarus.]
Of Cristes word, who wole it rede,
Hou that this vice is forto drede
Hic ponit exemplum contra istos delicatos. Et narrat de diuite et Lazaro, quorum gestus797in euangelio Lucas euidencius describit.
In thevangile it telleth plein,
Which mot algate be certein,
For Crist himself it berth witnesse.
And thogh the clerk and the clergesse980
In latin tunge it rede and singe,
Yit for the more knoulechinge
Of trouthe, which is good to wite,
I schal declare as it is write
In Engleissh, for thus it began.
Crist seith: ‘Ther was a riche man,
A mihti lord of gret astat,
And he was ek so delicat798
Of his clothing, that everyday
Of pourpre and bisse he made him gay,990
And eet and drank therto his fille
After the lustes of his wille,
As he which al stod in delice799
And tok non hiede of thilke vice.
P. iii. 35
And as it scholde so betyde,
A povere lazre upon a tyde
Cam to the gate and axed mete:
Bot there mihte he nothing gete800
His dedly hunger forto stanche;
For he, which hadde his fulle panche1000
Of alle lustes ate bord,
Ne deigneth noght to speke a word,
Onliche a Crumme forto yive,
Wherof the povere myhte live801
Upon the yifte of his almesse.
Thus lai this povere in gret destresse802
Acold and hungred ate gate,
Fro which he mihte go no gate,803
So was he wofulli besein.
And as these holi bokes sein,8041010
The houndes comen fro the halle,
Wher that this sike man was falle,
And as he lay ther forto die,
The woundes of his maladie
Thei licken forto don him ese.
Bot he was full of such desese,
That he mai noght the deth eschape;
Bot as it was that time schape,
The Soule fro the bodi passeth,
And he whom nothing overpasseth,1020
The hihe god, up to the hevene
Him tok, wher he hath set him evene
In Habrahammes barm on hyh,805
Wher he the hevene joie syh
P. iii. 36
And hadde al that he have wolde.
And fell, as it befalle scholde,
This riche man the same throwe806
With soudein deth was overthrowe,
And forth withouten eny wente
Into the helle straght he wente;8071030
The fend into the fyr him drouh,
Wher that he hadde peine ynouh
Of flamme which that evere brenneth.
And as his yhe aboute renneth,
Toward the hevene he cast his lok,
Wher that he syh and hiede tok
Hou Lazar set was in his Se
Als ferr as evere he mihte se
With Habraham; and thanne he preide
Unto the Patriarch and seide:1040
“Send Lazar doun fro thilke Sete,
And do that he his finger wete
In water, so that he mai droppe
Upon my tunge, forto stoppe
The grete hete in which I brenne.”
Bot Habraham answerde thenne
And seide to him in this wise:
“Mi Sone, thou thee miht avise808
And take into thi remembrance,
Hou Lazar hadde gret penance,1050
Whyl he was in that other lif,
Bot thou in al thi lust jolif
The bodily delices soghtest:
Forthi, so as thou thanne wroghtest,
P. iii. 37
Nou schalt thou take thi reward
Of dedly peine hierafterward
In helle, which schal evere laste;
And this Lazar nou ate laste
The worldes peine is overronne,
In hevene and hath his lif begonne1060
Of joie, which is endeles.
Bot that thou preidest natheles,
That I schal Lazar to the sende
With water on his finger ende,
Thin hote tunge forto kiele,
Thou schalt no suche graces fiele;
For to that foule place of Sinne,
For evere in which thou schalt ben inne,
Comth non out of this place thider,
Ne non of you mai comen hider;1070
Thus be yee parted nou atuo.”
The riche ayeinward cride tho:
“O Habraham, sithe it so is,
That Lazar mai noght do me this
Which I have axed in this place,
I wolde preie an other grace.
For I have yit of brethren fyve,
That with mi fader ben alyve
Togedre duellende in on hous;
To whom, as thou art gracious,1080
I preie that thou woldest sende
Lazar, so that he mihte wende
To warne hem hou the world is went,
That afterward thei be noght schent
P. iii. 38
Of suche peines as I drye.809
Lo, this I preie and this I crie,
Now I may noght miself amende.”
The Patriarch anon suiende
To his preiere ansuerde nay;810
And seide him hou that everyday1090
His brethren mihten knowe and hiere
Of Moïses on Erthe hiere
And of prophetes othre mo,
What hem was best. And he seith no;
Bot if ther mihte a man aryse
Fro deth to lyve in such a wise,
To tellen hem hou that it were,
He seide hou thanne of pure fere811
Thei scholden wel be war therby.
Quod Habraham: “Nay sikerly;8121100
For if thei nou wol noght obeie
To suche as techen hem the weie,
And alday preche and alday telle
Hou that it stant of hevene and helle,
Thei wol noght thanne taken hiede,813
Thogh it befelle so in dede
That eny ded man were arered,814
To ben of him no betre lered
Than of an other man alyve.”815
Confessor.
If thou, mi Sone, canst descryve1110
This tale, as Crist himself it tolde,
Thou schalt have cause to beholde,816
To se so gret an evidence,
Wherof the sothe experience
P. iii. 39
Hath schewed openliche at ÿe,
That bodili delicacie
Of him which yeveth non almesse
Schal after falle in gret destresse.
And that was sene upon the riche:
For he ne wolde unto his liche1120
A Crumme yiven of his bred,
Thanne afterward, whan he was ded,
A drope of water him was werned.
Thus mai a mannes wit be lerned
Of hem that so delices taken;
Whan thei with deth ben overtaken,
That erst was swete is thanne sour.
Bot he that is a governour
Of worldes good, if he be wys,
Withinne his herte he set no pris1130
Of al the world, and yit he useth
The good, that he nothing refuseth,
As he which lord is of the thinges.
The Nouches and the riche ringes,
The cloth of gold and the Perrie
He takth, and yit delicacie
He leveth, thogh he were al this.
The beste mete that ther is
He ett, and drinkth the beste drinke;
Bot hou that evere he ete or drinke,1140
Delicacie he put aweie,
As he which goth the rihte weie
Noght only forto fiede and clothe
His bodi, bot his soule bothe.
P. iii. 40
Bot thei that taken otherwise
Here lustes, ben none of the wise;817
And that whilom was schewed eke,
If thou these olde bokes seke,
Als wel be reson as be kinde,
Of olde ensample as men mai finde.1150