And trecherous in all thy werke,
Thou Boneface, thou proude clerke,
Misleder of the papacie,
Thy false body shall abie
And suffre, that it hath deserved.
Lo, thus this fupplantor was served.
For they him ladde into Fraunce
And fetten him to his penaunce
Within a toure in harde bondes,
Where he for hunger both his hondes
Ete of and died, god wote how.
Of whome the writinge is yet now
Registred as a man may here,
Which speketh and faith in this maner :
Thin entre lich a fox was fligh,
Thy regne alfo with pride on high
Was lich the leon in his rage,
But ate laste of thy paffage
Thy deth was to the houndes like.
Suche is the letter of his cronique
Proclamed in the court of Rome,
Wherof the wife enfample nome.
And yet as ferforth as I dare,
I rede all other men beware
And that they loke well algate,
That none his owne eftate translate
Of holy chirche in no degre
By fraude ne by subtilte.
For thilke honour whiche Aaron toke
Shall none receive as faith the boke,
Chronica Bonefacii. Intrafti ut vulpis, regnafti ut leo, et mortuus es ut canis, etc.
But he becleped as he was.
What shall I thenken in this cas
Of that I here nowe a day?
I not, but he which can and may
By refon both and by nature
The helpe of every mannes cure
He kepe Simon fro the folde.
For Joachim, thilke abbot tolde,
How fuche daies fhulden falle,
That comunlich in places alle
The chapmen of such mercerie
With fraude and with fupplantarie
So many fhulden beie and felle,
That he ne may for shame telle
So foule a finne in mannes ere.
But god forbede, that it were
In oure daies, that he faith.
For if the clerk beware his faith,
In chapmanhode at fuche a faire
The remenaunt mot nede empeire
Of all that to the world belongeth.
For whan that holy chirche wrongeth,
I not what other thing shall righte,
And netheles at mannes fighte
Envie for to be preferred
Hath confcience fo differred,
That no man loketh to the vice,
Whiche is the moder of malice,
And that is thilke fals envie,
Which causeth many a trecherie.
For where he may another fe
That is more gracious than he,
It shall nought stonden in his might,
But if he hinder fuche a wight.
And that is well nigh over all
This vice is now fo generall.
Envie thilke unhap indrough,
Whan Joab by deceipte flough
Abner, for drede he fhulde be
With king David fuch as was he.
And through envie also it felle
Of thilke fals Achitofelle,
For his counfeil was nought acheved,
But that he figh Cufy beleved
With Abfolon and him forfake,
He henge him felfe upon a a ftake.
Senec witneffeth openly,
How that envie properly
Is of the court the comun wenche.
And halt taverne for to schenche
That drink, which maketh the hert brenne,
And doth the wit aboute renne
By every waie to compaffe,
How that he might all other paffe
As he, which through unkindeship
Envieth
every felaship.
So that thou might well knowe and se,
There is no vice fuche as he
First toward god abhominable
And to mankinde unprofitable.
Qualiter Joab princeps milicie David invidie caufa Abner fubdole interfecit. Et qualiter eciam Achitofell ob hoc, quod Cufy in confilio Abfolon preferebatur, accenfus invidia laqueo fe fufpendit.
And that by wordes but a fewe
I shall by refon prove and fhewe.
6. Invidie ftimulus fine caufa ledit abortus,
Nam fine temptante crimine crimen habet. Non eft huius opus temptare Cupidinis archum, Dumque faces Veneris Ethnica flamma vorat, Abfque rubore gene pallor, quas fufcus obumbrat, Frigida nature cetera membra docent.
Envie if that I shall descrive,
feffor naturam in- He is nought shaply for to wive
quam aliter fecun- In erth among the women here.
dum proprietatem
vicii fub compen- For there is in him no matere,
Wherof he mighte do plefaunce.
First for his hevy contenaunce
Of that he femeth ever unglad
He is nought able to be hadde
And eke he brenneth fo withinne,
That kinde may no profit winne,
Wherof he shulde his love plese.
For thilke blood, which fhuld have efe
Το
regne among the moiste veines,
Is drie of thilke unkindly peines
Through which envie is fired ay.
And this by refon prove I may,
That toward love envie is nought,
And other wife if it be fought,
Upon what fide as ever it falle
It is the werfte vice of alle,
Which of him self hath most malice.
For understond that every vice
Some cause hath, wherof it groweth.
But of envie no man knoweth
Fro whenne he cam, but out of helle.
For thus the wife clerkes telle,
That no spirit but of malice
By way of kinde upon a
Is tempted, and by fuch a way
Envie hath kinde put away
And of malice hath his ftering,
Wherof he maketh his bakbiting,
And is him felf therof difefed.
So may there be no kinde plefed.
For ay the more that he envieth,
The more ayein him self he plieth.
Thus ftant envie in good efpeire
To ben him felf the divels heire
As he, whiche is his nexte liche
And furtheft from the heven riche.
For there may he never wone.
Forthy my gode dere fone,
If thou wolt finde a fiker way
To love, put envie away.
Min holy fader, refon wolde,
That I this vice escheue sholde.
But yet to strengthen my corage
If that ye wolde in avauntage
Therof fet a recoverir,
It were to me a great defir,
That I this vice mighte flee.
Now understond, my fone, and see,
There is phifique for the feke
And vertues for the vices eke.
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