And taketh him even by the fleve.
For erft woll he no wisdom leve,
And right as avarice is finne,
That wold his trefor kepe and winne,
Right fo is prodegalite.
But of largeffe in his degre,
Which even ftant betwene the two,
The highe god and man also
The vertue eche of hem commendeth.
For he him felven first amendeth,
That over all his name fpredeth
And to all other, where it nedeth,
He yiveth his good in such a wise,
That he maketh many a man arise,
Whiche elles fhulde falle low.
Largeffe may nought be unknowe.
For what lond that he regneth inne,
It may nought faile for to winne
Through his deferte love and grace,
Where it shall faile in other place.
And thus betwene to moch and lite
Largeffe, which is nought to wite,
Holt ever forth the middel way.
But who that torne wol away
Fro that, to prodegalite
Anone he left the proprete
Of vertu and goth to the vice.
For in fuch wife as avarice
Lefth for scarfeneffe his good name,
Right fo that other is to blame,
Which through his waft mesure excedeth.
For no man wot what harm that bredeth
[But mochel joie ther betideth,*
Where that largeffe an herte guideth.
For his mesure is fo governed,
That he bothe parts is lerned
To god and to the world also,
He doth refon to bothe two.
The pouer folk of his almeffe
Relieved ben in the diftreffe
Of thurst, of hunger and of colde,
Ne yift of him was never folde,
But frely yive, and netheles
The mighty god of his encres
Rewardeth him of double grace,
The heven he doth him to purchase
And yiveth him eke the worldes good.
And thus the cote for the hood
Largeffe taketh, and yet no finne
He doth, how fo that ever he winne.
Luc. Omni ha- What man hath hors men yiven him hors,
And who ne hath of him no force,
For he may thenne on fote go,
The world hath ever stonde fo.
But for to loken of the tweie,
A man to go the fiker weie
Beacius eft dare Better is to yive than to take,
With yifte a man may frendes make,
* From MSS. Harl. Wanting in MS. Stafford and the printed editions.
But who that taketh or great or small,
He taketh a charge forth with all
And ftant nought fre til it be quit.
So for to deme in mannes wit,
It helpeth more a man to have
His owne good than for to crave
Of other men and make him bonde,
Wher elles he may ftond unbonde.
Senec counfeileth in this wife
And faith: But if the good fuffice
Unto the liking of the will,
Withdrawe thy luft and hold the still
And be to thy good fuffifaunt,
For that thing is appurtenaunt
To trouthé and causeth to be fre
After the reule of charite,
Which first beginneth of him felve.
For if thou richest other twelve,
Wherof thou shalt thy felf be
pouer,
I not what thank thou might recouer,]
While that a man hath good to yive,
With greate routes he may live
And hath his frendes over all,
And everich of him telle fhall,
The while he hath his fulle packe
They fay: A good felaw is Jacke.
Whan it faileth ate last,
Anone his prise they overcaft,
For than is there none other lawe,
But Jacke was a good felawe.
Seneca. Si res tue tibi non fufficiant, fac ut rebus tuis fufficias.
Apoftolus. Ordinata caritas incipit a fe ipfa.
Whan they him pouer and nedy se,
They let him passe and fare well he,
Al that he wend of compaignie
Is thanne torned to folie.
But now to fpeke in other kinde
Of love, a man may suche finde,
That where they come in every rout,
They caft and wast her love about
Till all her time is overgone,
And thanne have they love none.
For he that loveth over all,
It is no refon, that he shall
Of love have any proprete.
Forthy my fone, avise the,
If thou of love haft ben to large.
For fuche a man is nought to charge.
And if it so be, that thou haft
Despended al thy time in waft
And fet thy love in fondry place,
Though thou the fubftaunce of thy grace
Lefe at the laft, it is on wonder,
For he that put him felven under,
As who faith comun over all,
He left the love speciall
Of any one, if she be wife.
For love shall nought bere his prise
By refon, whan it paffeth one.
So have I fen full many one,
That were of love wel at efe,
Which after fell in great difefe
Through wast of love, that they spent
In fondry places where they went.
Right fo, my fone, I axe of the,
If thou with prodegalite
Haft here and there thy love wasted?
My fader, nay, but I have tafted
In many a place as I have
And yet love I never one of tho,
But for to drive forth the day.
For leveth well, my hert is ay
Withoute mo for evermore
All upon one, for I no more
Defire, but her love alone.
So make I many a prive mone,
For well I fele I have despended
My longe love and nought amended
My fpede, for ought I finde yit.
If this be waft unto your wit
Of love and prodegalite,
Now, gode fader, demeth
Of time, whiche thou haft fpended,
It may with grace ben amended.
For thing which may be worth the cost
Perchaunce is nouther waft ne loft,
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