Hic loquitur de
fompnolencia, que
And do no travaile at the nede,
It is no refon that he spede
In loves cause for to winne.
For he, which dare nothing beginne,
I not what thinge he fhulde acheve.
But over this thou shalt beleve,
So as it fit the well to knowe,
That there ben other vices flowe,
Which unto love don great lette,
If thou thin hert upon hem fette.
Perdit homo caufam linquens fua jura fopori,
Et quafi dimidium pars fua mortis habet.
Eft in amore vigil Venus, et quod habet vigilanti
Obfequium thalamis fert vigilata fuis.
Toward the flowe progeny
accidie cameraria There is yet one of compaigny, And he is cleped fompnolence, alicuius negocii vi- Which doth to flouth his reverence gilias obfervari fo
porifero torpore As he, which is his chamberlein, recufat, unde qua
tenus amorem con- That many an hunderd time hath lein
manti diligencius To flepe, whan he shulde wake.
He hath with love trewes take,
That wake who fo wake will,
If he may couche adown his bill,
He hath all wowed what him list,
That oft he goth to bed unkist
And faith, that for no druery
He woll nought leve his fluggardy.
For though no man it wold allowe,
To flepe lever than to wowe
Is his maner, and thus on nightes,
Whan he seeth the lufty knightes
Revelen, where these women are,
Awey he skulketh as an hare
And goth to bed and laith him softe
And of his flouth he dremeth ofte,
How that he sticketh in the mire
And how he fitteth by the fire
And claweth on his bare shankes
And how he climeth up the bankes
And falleth in the flades depe.
But thanne who so take kepe,
Whan he is fall in fuche a dreme,
Right as a ship ayein the streme
He routeth with a slepy noise
And bruftleth as a monkes froife,
Whan it is throwe into the
And otherwhile felde whanne
That he may dreme a lufty fweven,
Him thenketh as though he were in heven
And as the world were holy his.
And than he speketh of that and this
And maketh his expofition
After his difpofition
Of that he wold, and in fuch a wife
He doth to love all his fervise,
I not what thank he shall deserve.
But fone, if thou wolt love ferve,
I rede that thou do nought fo.
Ha, gode fader, certes no.
I had lever by my trouth,
Er I were set on fuch a flouth
And bere such a slepy snout,
Bothe eyen of my hede were out.
For me were better fully deie
Than I of fuche fluggardie
any name, god me fhielde. For whan my moder was with childe And I lay in her wombe clos, I wolde rather Atropos, Which is goddesse of alle deth, Anone as I had any breth, Me hadde fro my moder caft. But now I am nothing agaft, I thonke god, for Lachefis Ne Cloto, which her felaw is, Me shopen no fuch destine, Whan they at my nativite My wierdes fetten as they wolde, But they me fhopen, that I fholde Escheue of flepe the truandife, So that I hope in such a wife To love for to ben excused, That I no fompnolence have used.
For certes, fader Genius, Yet unto now it hath be thus
At alle time if it befelle,
So that I mighte come and dwelle
In place there my lady were,
I was nought flow ne flepy there.
For than I dare well undertake,
That whan her lift on nightes wake
In chambre as to carole and daunce,
Me thenketh I may me more avaunce,
If I may gone upon her honde,
Than if I wonne a kinges londe.
For whan I may her hond beclippe,
With fuch gladneffe I daunce and skippe,
Me thenketh I touche nought the floor.
The roo, which renneth on the moor,
Is thanne nought fo light as I.
So mow ye witen all forthy,
That for the time flepe I hate.
And whan it falleth other gate,
So that her like nought to daunce,
But on the dees to cafte chaunce
Or axe of love fome demaunde
Or elles that her lift commaunde
To rede and here of Troilus,
Right as she wold or fo or thus,
I am all redy to consent.
And if fo is, that I may hent
Somtime amonge a good leifer,
So as I dare of my desir
So mote I nedes fro her wende
And of my wacche make an ende.
And if the thanne hede toke,
How pitouflich on her I loke,
Whan that I shall my leve take,
Her ought of mercy for to flake
Her daunger, which faith ever nay.
But he faith often: Have good day,
That loth is for to take his leve.
Therfore while I may beleve,
I tarie forth the night alonge.
For it is nought on me alonge
To flepe, that I fo foone go,
Till that I mote algate fo
And thanne I bidde: God her fe,
And fo down knelende on my kne
I take leve, and if I fhall
I kiffe her and go forth withall.
And other while, if that I dore,
Er I come fully ate dore,
I torne ayein and feigne a thing,
As though I hadde loft a ring
Or fomwhat elles, for I wolde
Kiffe her eftfone, if I fholde.
But felden is, that I so spede.
And whan I se, that I mot nede
Departe, I departe and thanne
With all my herte I curfe and banne,
That ever slepe was made for eye.
For as me thenketh I might drie
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