Whan god fhall his accompte here,
For he hath had his luftes here.
But of the body, which shall deie,
All though there be diverfe wey
To deth, yet is there but one ende,
To which that every man shall wende
As well the begger as the lorde
Of o nature, of one accorde.
She, which our olde moder is,
The erthe bothe that and this
Receiveth and alich devoureth,
That the to nouther part favoureth.
So wote I nothing after kinde,
Where I may gentileffe finde,
For lacke of vertue lacketh grace,
Wherof richeffe in many place,
Whan men beft wene for to ftonde,
All fodeinly goth out of honde.
But vertue fet in the corage,
There may no world be so salvage,
Which might it take and done away,
Till whanne that the body deie.
And than he shall be riched fo,
That it may faile nevermo,
So that may well be gentileffe,
Which yiveth so great a fikerneffe,
For after the condicion
Of refonable entencion,
The which out of the foule groweth
And the vertue fro vice knoweth,
Omnes quidem ad unum tendimus, fet diverfo tramite.
Wherof a man the vice eschueth
Withoute flouth and vertue fueth,
That is a verray gentilman
And nothing elles, whiche he can,
Ne which he hath, ne which he may.
But for all that yet now a day
In loves court to taken hede,
The pouer vertue shall nought fpede,
Where that the riche vice woweth.
For felde it is, that love alloweth
The gentil man withouten good,
Though his condition be good.
But if a man of bothe two
Be riche and vertuous also,
Than is he well the more worth.
But yet to put him felve forth
He must done his befineffe,
For nouther good ne gentileffe
May helpen hem, whiche idel be.
But who, that woll in his degre
Travaile fo, as it belongeth,
It happeth ofte, that he fongeth
Worship and ese bothe two.
For ever yet it hath be so,
That love honeft in fondry wey
Profiteth, for it doth
The vice, and as the bokes fain,
It maketh curteis of the vilain
And to the coward hardieffe
It yiveth, fo that the verray proweffe
In gentil folke, as it is fene,
Which thing there may no kind areste.
I trowe, that there is no beste,
If he with love fhulde acqueint,
That he ne wolde make it queint
As for the while, that it lafte.
And thus I conclude ate lafte,
That they ben idel, as me femeth,
Whiche unto thing, that love demeth,
Forflouthen, that they fhulden do,
And over this, my fone, also
After the vertue morall eke
To fpeke of love, if I fhall feke,
Among the holy bokes wife,
I finde write in fuche a wife
Who loveth nought is here as dede,
For love above all other is hede,
Whiche hath the vertues for to lede,
Of all that unto mannes dede
Belongeth. For of idelship
He hateth all the felaship,
For flouthe is ever to defpife,
Whiche in disdeigne hath all apprise,
Nota de amore charitatis, ubi dicit, qui non diligit, manet in morte.
And that accordeth nought to man.
For he that wit and reson can,
It fit him wel, that he travaile
Upon fuch thing, which might availe,
For idelship is nought comended,
But every law it hath defended.
And in enfample thereupon
The noble wife Salomon,
Whiche had of every thinge infight,
Saith: As the briddes to the flight
Ben made, fo the man is bore
To labour, whiche is nought forbore
To hem, that thenken for to thrive.
For we, whiche are nowe alive,
Of hem that befy whilom were
Als wel in fcole as elles where
Apoftolus. Que Now every day ensample take,
funt ad noftram That if it were now to make
doctrinam fcripta Thing, which that they first founden out,
It sholde nought be brought about.
Her lives thanne were longe,
Her wittes great, her mightes ftronge,
Her hertes full of befineffe,
Wherof the worldes redineffe
In body both and in corage
Stant ever upon his avauntage.
And for to drawe into memoire
Her names both and her histoire,
Upon the vertu of her dede
In fondry bokes thou might rede.
Expedit de manibus labor, ut de cotidianis
Actibus ac vita vivere pofcit homo.
Sed qui doctrine caufa fert mente labores
Prevalet et merita perpetuata parat.
Of every wisdom the parfit
The highe god of his spirit
Yaf to men in erthe here
Upon the forme and the matere,
Of that he wolde make hem wise.
And thus cam in the first apprise
Of bokes and of alle good
Through hem, that whilom understood
The lore, which to hem was yive,
Wherof these other, that now live,
Ben every day to lerne new.
But er the time that men fue
And that the labour forth it brought,
There was no corn, though men it sought,
In none of all the feldes oute.
And er the wisdom cam aboute
Of hem, that firft the bokes write,
This may wel every wife man wite,
There was great labour eke also.
Thus was none idel of the two,
That one the plough hath undertake
With labour, which the hond hath take,
That other toke to studie and muse
As he which wolde nought refuse
The labour of his wittes alle.
And in this wife it is befalle
Of labour, which that they begonne,
We be now taught of that we conne,
Hic loquitur contra ociofos quofcumque, et maxime contra iftos, qui excellentis prudencie ingenium habentes abfque fruc-. tu operum torpefcunt. Et ponit exemplum de diligencia predecefforum, qui ad tocius humani generis doctrinam et auxilium fuis continuis laboribus et ftudiis gracia mediante divina artes et fciencias primitus invenerunt.
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