Hic narrat fecun

dum poetam, qua

As for the time yet it leffeth
To him, which other joie miffeth.
Forthy my fone, aboven all
Think well, how fo it the befall,
And kepe thy wittes that thou haft
And let hem nought be drunke in wast.
But netheles there is no wight,

That

may withstonde loves might.
But why the caufe is, as I finde,
But that there is diverse kinde
Of lovedrunke, why men pleigneth
After the court, which all ordeigneth,
I will the tellen the manere,

Now lift, my fone, and thou shalt here.
For the fortune of

every chaunce
liter in fuo cellario After the goddes purveaunce
Jupiter duo dolia To man it groweth from above,
habet, quorum pri-

mum liquoris dul- So that the fpede of

ciffimi, fecundum

every love amariffimi plenum Is shape there, er it befalle.

confiftit, ita quod

ille, cui fatata eft For Jupiter aboven alle,

profperitas,de dulci

potabit, alter vero, Which is of goddes foverain,

cui adverfabitur,

amarum.

poculum guftabit Hath in his celler, as men sain,
Two tonnes full of love drinke,
That maketh many an herte finke
And many an herte alfo to flete
Or of the foure or of the fwete.
That one is full of fuch piment,
Which paffeth all entendement,
Of mannes wit, if he it taste,
And maketh a jolif herte in hafte.

That other bitter as the galle,
Which maketh a mannes herte palle,
Whose dronkeship is a siknesse
Through feling of the bitternesse.
Cupide is boteler of bothe,

Which to the leve and to the lothe
Yiveth of the fwete and of the foure,
That some laugh, and some loure.
But for fo mochel as he blinde is
Full ofte time he goth amis

And taketh the badde for the good,
Which hindreth many a mannes food
Withoute cause and furthereth eke.
So be there fome of love feke,
Which ought of refon to ben hole,
And fome come to the dole
In happe, and as hem felven left
Drinke undeserved of the best.

And thus this blinde boteler

upon

chaunce

Yiveth of the trouble in stede of chere
And eke the chere in ftede of trouble.
Lo, how he can the hertes trouble
And maketh men drunke al
Withoute lawe of governaunce.
If he drawe of the fwete tonne,
Than is the forwe all overronne
Of lovedrunke and shall nought greven
So to be drunke every even,

For all is thanne but a game.

But whan it is nought of the fame

Nota hic, qualiter po

tus aliquando ficienti

And he the better tonne draweth,
Such dronkeship an herte gnaweth
And febleth all a mannes thought,

That better him were have drunke nought
And all his brede have eten drie,

For than he left his lufty wey

With dronkeship and wot nought whider the waies ben fo flider,

To

go,

In whiche he may parcas fo falle,
That he shall breke his wittes alle.
And in this wife men be drunke
After the drinke they have drunke.
But alle drinken nought alike,

For fome shall finge, and some shal fike,
So that it me nothing merveileth,
My fone, of love that the eyleth.
For wel I knowe by thy tale,

That thou haft drunken of the dwale,
Which bitter is, till god the fende
Such grace, that thou might amende.
But fone, thou shalt bid and pray
In fuch a wife, as I fhall fay,
That thou the luft well atteigne
Thy wofull thurftes to reftreigne
Of love and tafte the fweteneffe,
As Bachus did in his diftreffe,
Whan bodeliche thurst him hent
In ftraunge londes, where he went.
This Bachus fone of Jupiter

precibus adquiritur, Was hote, and as he went fer

By his faders affignement

To make a wer in Orient

And great power with him he ladde,
So that the higher hond he hadde
And victoire of his enemies
And torneth homward with his prife,
In fuche a contre which was drie
A mifchefe fell upon the wey,
As he rode with his compaigny
Nigh to the ftrondes of Lubie,
There mighte they no drinke finde
Of water, ne of other kinde,

So that him self and all his hofte
Were for default of drinke almofte
Diftruied, and than Bachus praid
To Jupiter and thus he said :
O highe fader, that seest all,
To whom is refon, that I fhall

Befeche and pray in every nede,
Behold, my fader, and take hede
This wofull thurft, that we be inne,
To ftaunche and graunt us for to winne
And faufe unto the contre fare,
Where that our lufty loves are
Waitend upon our home coming.
And with the vois of his praieng,
Which herd was to the goddes high,
He figh anone to-fore his eye

A wether, which the grounde hath sporned,
And where he hath it overtorned,

et narrat in exemplum, quod cum Bachus de quodam bello ab Oriente repatrians in quibufdam Lubie partibus alicuius generis potum non invenit, fufis ad Jovem precibus, apparuit ei aries, qui terra pede percuffit, ftatimque fons emanavit, et fic potum petenti peticio prevaluit.

There sprang a welle fresh and clere,
Wherof his owne botelere

After the luftes of his will

Was every man to drinke his fill.

And for this ilke grete grace
Bachus upon the fame place
A riche temple let arere,

Which ever fhulde ftonde there
To thursty men in remembraunce.
Forthy my fone, after this chaunce

It fit the well to taken hede

So for to pray upon thy nede,
As Bachus praide for the well.

And thenke, as thou haft herd me tell,
How grace he gradde and grace he had,
He was no fool, that firft fo rad.
For felden get a domb man londe,
Take that proverbe and understonde,
That wordes ben of vertue gret.
Forthy to speke thou ne let

And axe and pray erely and late

Thy thurst to quenche and thenke algate,
The boteler, which bereth the key,

Is blinde, as thou haft herd me say.
And if it mighte fo betide,

That he upon the blinde fide

Parcas the fwete tonne araught,

Than shalt thou have a lusty draught

And waxe of lovedrunke fobre.

And thus I rede thou affobre