Though I have loft my maidenhede, Shall no man se my chekes rede. Thus medleth she with joie wo And with her forwe merth also, So that of loves maladie
She maketh divers melodie
And faith Love is a wofull bliffe, A wisdom, which can no man wiffe, A lufty fever, a wounde fofte. This note fhe reherseth ofte
To hem, which understonde her tale. Now have I of this nightingale, Which erft was cleped Philomene, Told all that ever wolde mene, Both of her forme and of her note, Wherof men may the ftory note. And of her fufter Progne I finde, How she was torned out of kinde Into a swalwe fwift of wing, Which eke in winter lith fwouning There as she may no thing be fene, But whan the world is woxe grene And comen is the fomer tide.
Than fleeth the forth and ginneth to chide
And chitereth out in her langage,
What fallhede is in mariage,
And telleth in a maner fpeche
Of Tereus the spouse breche. She wol nought in the wodes dwelle, For the wold openliche telle,
And eke for that she was a spouse Among the folk fhe cometh to house To do these wives understonde The falfhode of her husbonde, That they of hem beware also, For there be many untrewe of tho.
Thus ben the fufters briddes both And ben toward the men fo loth, That they ne woll for pure fhame Unto no mannes hond be tame, For ever it dwelleth in her minde Of that they found a man unkinde, And that was falfe Tereus.
If fuche one be amonge us, I not, but his condition Men say in every region Withinne town and eke without Now regneth comunlich about. And netheles in remembraunce I woll declare, what vengeaunce The goddes hadden him ordeigned, Of that the fufters hadden pleigned. For anone after he was chaunged And from his owne kinde ftraunged, A lappewinke made he was
And thus he hoppeth on the gras, And on his heed there ftont upright A creft in token of a knight, And yet unto this day, men faith, A lappewinke hath loft his feith
And is the brid falsest of alle.
Beware, my fone, er the fo falle, For if thou be of such covine Το get of love by ravine Thy luft, it may the falle thus, As it befell of Tereus.
My fader, goddes forbode, Me were lever be fortrode With wilde hors and be to-drawe, Er I ayein love and his lawe Did any thing or loude or ftill, Which were nought my ladies will. Men faien, that every love hath drede, So folweth it, that I her drede,
For I her love, and who fo dredeth To plese his love and ferve him nedeth. Thus may ye knowen by this skill,
That no ravine done I will
Ayein her will by such a wey. But while I live, I will obey Abiding on her courtefie, If any mercy wolde her plie.
Forthy my fader, as of this I wot nought I have do amis. But furthermore I you befeche, Some other point that ye me teche, And axeth forth if there be ought, That I may be the better taught.
Vivat ut ex fpoliis grandi quam fepe tumultu, Quo graditur populus, latro perurget iter.
Sic amor ex cafu poterit quo carpere predam, Si locus eft aptus, cetera nulla timet.
Whan covetise in pouer estate
Stont with him self
Through lacke of his mifgovernaunce, That he unto his fuftenaunce
Ne can non other waie finde
To get him good, than as the blinde, Which feeth nought what shal after fall, That ilke vice, which men call Of robbery, he taketh on honde, Wherof by water and by londe Of thing, which other men beswinke get him cloth and mete and drinke, Him reccheth nought, what he beginne Through thefte, fo that he may winne. Forthy to maken his purchas
And what thing that he feeth ther paffe He taketh his parte or more or laffe, If it be worthy to be take
He can the packes well ranfake. So prively bereth none about His gold, that he ne fint it out, Or other juell what it be He taketh it as his proprete In wodes and in feldes eke. Thus robberie goth to seke, Where as he may his purchas finde. And right fo in the fame kinde
My gode fone, as thou might here, To fpeke of love in the matere And make a verray resemblance
Right as a thefe maketh his chevefance And robbeth mennes goodes about In wode and felde, where he goth out, So be there of these lovers fome In wilde stedes where they come And finden there a woman able And therto place covenable, Withoute leve er that they fare They take a parte of that chaffare. Ye, though the were a fhepherdeffe Yet woll the lorde of wantonneffe Affay, all though she be unmete. For other mennes good is fwete. But therof wot nothing the wife At home, which loveth as her life Her lord and fit all day wishing After her lordes home coming. But whan he cometh home at eve, Anone he maketh his wife beleve, For the nought elles fhulde knowe He telleth her, how his hunt hath blowe, And howe his houndes have well ronne,
And how there fhone a mery fonne, And how his hawkes flowen wele. But he wol telle her never a dele,
How he to love untrewe was Of that he robbed in the
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