The ftone feconde I the behote
Is lapis animalis hote,
propre and couth
For ere and eye and nafe and mouth,
Wherof a man may here and fe
And smelle and taste in his degre.
And for to fele and for to go
It helpeth a man, of bothe two
The wittes five he underfongeth
To kepe, as it to him belongeth.
The thridde ftone in speciall
By name is cleped minerall,
Which the metalles of every mine
Attempreth, till that they ben fine,
And pureth hem by fuch a wey,
That all the vice goth awey
Of rust, of stinke and of hardneffe.
And whan they ben of such clennesse,
This minerall, fo as I finde,
Transformeth all the firfte kinde
And maketh hem able to conceive
Through his vertue and receive
Both in substaunce and in figure
Of golde and filver the nature.
For they two ben thextremites,
To whiche after the propreties
Hath every metal his defire
With helpe and comfort of the fire
Forth with this ftone, as it is faid,
Which to the fonne and mone is laid,
For to the redde and to the white
This stone hath power to profite,
It maketh multiplication
Of golde and the fixation
It caufeth, and of his habite
He doth the werke to be parfite
Of thilke elixir, which men calle
Alconomy, as is befalle
To hem, that whilom were wise.
But nowe it ftant all otherwise.
They speken fast of thilke stone,
But how to make it, now wot none
After the fothe experience.
And netheles great diligence
They fetten up thilke dede
And spillen more than they spede.
For alle way they finde a lette,
Which bringeth in pouerte and dette
To hem, that riche were afore.
The lofs is had, the lucre is lore,
To get a pound they spenden five,
I not how fuch a craft fhall thrive
In the maner as it is ufed.
It were better be refused
Than for to worchen upon wene
In thing, which stant nought as they wene.
But nought forthy, who that it knewe,
The science of him felf is trewe
Upon the forme, as it was founded,
Wherof the names yet be grounded
Of hem, that firft it founden out.
And thus the fame goth about
To fuch as foughten befinesse
Of vertue and of worthineffe,
Of whom if I the names calle,
Hermes was one the first of alle,
To whom this art is most applied.
Geber therof was magnified
And Ortolan and Morien,
Among the which is Avicen,
Which found and wrote a great partie
The practique of alconomie.
Whose bokes pleinly, as they ftonde
Upon this craft, few understonde.
But yet to put hem in affay,
There ben full many now a day,
That knowen litel what they mene.
It is nought one to wite and wene,
In forme of wordes they it trete,
But yet they failen of beyete,
For of to moche or of to lite
There is algate found a wite,
So that they folwe nought the line
Of the parfite medicine,
Which grounded is upon nature.
But they that writen the scripture
Of Greke, Arabe and of Caldee,
They were of fuche auctorite,
That they first founden out the way
Of all that thou haft herd me say,
Wherof the cronique of her lore
Shall stonde in prise for evermore.
But toward oure marches here
Of the Latins, if thou wolt here
Of hem that whilom vertuous
Were and therto laborious,
Carment made of her engine
The firfte letters of Latine,
Of which the tunge Romain cam,
Wherof that Ariftarchus nam
Forth with Donat and Dindimns
The firfte reule of fcole, as thus
How that Latin fhall be compouned
And in what wife it shall be founed,
That every word in his degre
Shall ftond upon congruite.
And thilke time at Rome alfo
Was Tullius Cicero,
That writeth upon rethorique,
How that men shuld her wordes pike
After the forme of eloquence,
Which is, men fain, a great prudence.
And after that out of Hebrew
Jerome, which the langage knew,
The bible, in which the lawe is closed,
Into Latine he hath transposed.
And many an other writer eke
Out of Caldee, Arabe and Greke
With great labour the bokes wife
Tranflateden. And otherwise
The Latins of hem self alfo
Her ftudy at thilke time fo
With great travaile of fcole toke
In fondry forme for to boke,
That we may take her evidences
Upon the lore of the fciences,
Of craftes bothe and of clergie,
Among the whiche in poesie
To the lovers Ovide wrote
And taught, if love be to hote,
In what maner it fhulde akele.
Forthy my fone, if that thou fele,
That love wringe the to fore,
Behold Ovide and take his lore.
My fader, if they mighte fpede
My love, I wolde his bokes rede.
And if they techen to reftreigne
My love, it were an idel peine
To lerne a thing which may nought be.
For lich unto the grene tre,
If that men take his root awey,
Right fo min herte fhulde deie,
If that my love be withdrawe.
Wherof touchend unto this fawe
There is but onely to pursue
My love and idelship efcheue.
My gode fone, soth to say,
If there be fiker any way
To love, thou haft faid the best.
For who that woll have all his reft
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