As fhe, that was fwounende feint, She fell and hath her felf adreint. With Frixus and this fhepe forth swam, Till he to thile of Colchos cam, Where Juno the goddeffe he fonde, Which toke the fhepe unto the londe And fet it there in fuch a wife, As thou to-fore haft herd devife, Wherof cam after all the wo, Why Jafon was forfwore fo
Unto Medee, as it is spoke.
I shall here afterward declare,
Which maketh one riche, an other bare.
Plus capit ufura fibi, quam debetur, et illud Fraude collocata fepe latenter agit. Sic amor exceffus quam fepe fuos ut avarus Spirat et unius tres capit ipfe loco.
Upon the bench fittend on high
fpecie avaricie, que With avarice ufure I figh,
creditor in pecunia Ful clothed of his owne suite,
plus quam fibi de Which after gold maketh chase and suite mentum lucri ad- With his brocours, that renne aboute,
Liche unto racches in a route.
Such lucre is none above grounde,
Which is nought of tho racches founde. For where they se beyete fterte,
That shall hem in no wife afterte,
But they it drive into the net Of lucre, whiche ufure hath fet.
Ufure with the riche dwelleth, To all that ever he bieth and felleth, He hath ordeined of his fleight Mesure double and double weight. Outward he felleth by the laffe
And with the more he maketh his taffe, Wherof his hous is full withinne.
He recheth nought be fo he winne, Though that there lefe ten or twelve. His love is all toward him felve And to none other but he se, That he may winne fuche thre.
For where he shall ought yive or lene, He woll ayeinward take a bene, There he hath lent the smalle pese. And right so there ben many of these Lovers, that though they love a lite, That scarfly wolde it weie a mite, Yet wol they have a pound ayein, As doth ufure in his bargain. But certes fuch ufure unliche It falleth more unto the riche Als well of love as of beyete, Than unto hem, that ben nought grete. And as who faith ben fimple and pouer, For felden is, whan they recouer, But if it be through great deferte And netheles men fe pouerte With pursuit of contenaunce Full ofte make a great chevaunce And take of love his avauntage Forth with the helpe of his brocage, That maken seme where it is nought. And thus full ofte is love bought For litel what and mochel take With false weightes that thy make.
Now fone, of that I faide above Thou woft what usure is of love. Tell me forthy what so thou wilt, If thou therof hast any gilt?
My fader nay, for ought I here. For of tho points ye tolden here
I will you by my trouth affure, My weight of love and my mesure Hath be more large and more certeine Than ever I toke of love ayeine. For fo yet couthe I never of fleighte To take ayein by double weighte Of love more than I have yive. For alfo wis mote I be fhrive And have remiffion of finne, As fo yet couth I never winne Ne yet fo mochel foth to fain, That ever I might have half ayein Of fo full love, as I have lent. And if mine hap were fo well went, That for the hole I might have half, Me thenketh I were a goddes half. For where ufure wold have double, My confcience is nought fo trouble, I bidde never as to my dele
But of the hole an halven dele.
That is none excess as me thenketh, But netheles it me forthenketh. For well I wot, that wol nought be, For every day the better I fe, That how fo ever I yive or lene My love in place that I mene, For ought that ever I axe or crave I can nothing ayeinwarde have. But yet for that I wol nought lete What fo befall of my beyete,
That I ne shall her yive and lene
My love and all my thought fo clene, That toward me shall nought beleve. And if the of her gode leve Rewarde wol me nought ayein, I wot the last of my bargein Shall ftonde upon fo great a loft, That I may never more the cost Recouer in this world till I deie, So that touchend of this partie I may me well excuse and shall And for to speke forth withall, If any brocour for me went, That point come never in min entent, So that the more me merveileth What thing it is, my lady eileth, That all min herte and all my time She hath and do no better byme.
I have herd said, that thought is free And netheles in privete
To you, my fader, that bene here Min hole fhrifte for to here,
I dare min herte well disclose Touchend ufurie, as I fuppofe, Whiche, as ye telle, in love is used. My lady may nought ben excused, That for o loking of her Min hole herte till I deie
She hath me wonne to her man,
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