The more hardy for to wowe, In hope that she wolde bowe
To such thinge, as his wille were, While that her lord were elles where. And of my felf I telle this,
For it fo longe passed is,
Sith first that ye fro home wente, That well nigh every man is wente To there I am, while ye be oute, Had made and eche of hem aboute, Which love can, my love fecheth With great praiere and me besecheth. And some maken great manace, That if they mighten come in place, Where that they mighten her will have, There is no thing me shulde save, That they ne wolde werche thinges. And fome tellen me tidinges, That ye ben dede, and fome fain, That certainly ye ben befain To love a newe and leve me. But how as ever that it be, I thonke unto the goddes alle
yet for ought that is befalle, May no man do my chekes rede. But netheles it is to drede, That lacheffe in continuaunce Fortune might fuche a chaunce, Which no man after sholde amende.
Lo, thus this lady compleignende
A letter unto her lord hath write And praid him, that he wolde wite And thenke, how that she was al his, And that he tarie nought in this, But that he wold his love acquite To her ayeinward and nought write, But come him felf in alle hafte, That he none other paper wafte, So that he kepe and holde his trouthe Withoute let of any flouthe.
Unto her lord and love liege To Troie, where the grete fiege Was laid, this letter was conveied. And he, which wisdome hath purveied Of all that to refon belongeth, With gentil herte it underfongeth. And whan he hath it overrad, In parte he was right inly glad And eke in parte he was difefed. But love his hert hath fo through fefed With pure ymaginacion,
That for none occupacion,
Whiche he can take on other fide, He may nought flit his herte afide, For that his wife him had enformed, Wherof he hath him self conformed With all the will of his corage To shape and take the viage Homeward, what time that he So that him thenketh of a day
yere till he may fe
The visage of Penelope,
Whiche he defireth most of alle. And whan the time is fo befalle,
That Troie was diftruied and brent, He made non delaiement,
But goth him home in alle hie, Where that he found to-fore his eye His worthy wife in good estate, And thus was ceffed the debate Of love, and flouthe was excused,
Which doth great harm, wher it is used, And hindreth many a cause honest.
For of the grete clerk Grostest I rede how busy that he was Upon the clergie an heved of bras To forge and make it for to telle Of fuche thinges as befelle. And feven yeres befineffe He laide, but for the lacheffe Of half a minute of an houre Fro firfte he began laboure He loft all that he hadde do. And other while it fareth fo In loves cause, who is flowe, That he without under the wowe By night stant full oft a colde, Which mighte, if that he had wolde His time kept, have be withinne.
But flouthe may nought profit winne,
Nota hic de quodam aftrologo fuper eodem, qui quoddam opus ingeniofum quafi ad complementum feptennio perducens unius momenti tardacione omnem fui operis diligenciam penitus fruftravit.
Nota adhuc contra tardacionem de vir
ginibus fatuis, que But he may finge in his carole, cientes intrante How latewar came to the dole, fponfo ad nupcias Where he no good receive might.
cum ipfo non in
troierunt.
And that was proved well by night Whilome of the maidens five, Whan thilke lord came for to wive, For that her oile was awey
To light her lampes in his wey, Her flouthe brought it so aboute Fro him that they be fhet withoute. Wherof, my fone, be thou ware, Als ferforth as I telle dare.
For love mufte ben awaited, And if thou be nought well affaited In love to escheue flouthe,
My fone, for to telle trouthe
Thou might nought of thy felf ben able To winne love or make it stable, All though thou mightest love acheve. My fader, that I may well leve. But me was never affigned place, Where yet to geten any grace, Ne me was non fuch time appointed, For than I wolde I were unjointed Of every limme that I have,
And I ne fhulde kepe and fave
Min houre bothe and eke
If my lady it hadde bede.
But she is otherwise avised
Than graunte fuche a time affifed.
And netheless of my lacheffe There hath be no default I geffe Of time lofte, if that I mighte. But yet her liketh nought alighte Upon no lure, which I caste. For ay the more I crie fafte The laffe her liketh for to here. So for to speke of this matere I feche that I may nought finde, I haste and ever I am behinde And wot nought what it may amounte. But fader, upon min accompte, Whiche ye ben fet to examine Of fhrifte after the discipline, Say what your best counfeile is. My fone, my counfeil is this. How fo it ftonde of time
Do forth thy befinesse so,
That no lacheffe in the be founde, For flouthe is mighty to confounde The spede of every mannes werke. For many a vice, as faith the clerke, There hongen upon flouthes lappe Of fuche as make a man mishappe To pleigne and tell of: had I wist. And therupon if that the list
To knowe of flouthes cause more In fpecial yet overmore
There is a vice full grevable
To him, which is therof coulpable,
« PreviousContinue » |