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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

As

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

may.

A thoufand

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

nimiam moram fa

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.

Confeffor.

Confeffio amantis.

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

my stede,

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,

go,

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,

Confeffor.

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