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Torpor bebes fenfus, fcola parva labor minimufque
Caufant, quo minimus ipfe minora canam,
Qua tamen Eugifti lingua canit infula Bruti
Anglica carmen te metra juvante loquar.
Offibus ergo carens qui conterit offa loquelis
Abfit et interpres ftet procul oro malus.

tho.

F hem, that writen us to-fore, The bokesdwelle, and we therfore

Ben taught of that was writen

Forthy good is, that we also
In oure time amonge us here
Do write of newe fome matere
Enfampled of the olde wife,

So that it might in fuche a wife,
Whan we be dede and elles where,
Beleve to the worldes ere

In time comend after this.

But for men fain, and fothe it is,
That who that al of wisdom writ
It dulleth ofte a mannes wit

B

I.

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Hic in principio li

bri declarat, qualiter in anno Regis

Hic declaratinprimis, qualiter ob reverenciam fereniffimi principis Domini fui Regis Anglie Ricardi fecundi totus fuus humilis Johannes Gower, licet quam infirmitate a diu multipliciter fatigatus huius opufculi labores fufcipere non recufavit, fed tanquam favum ex variis floribus recollectum prefentem libellum ex variis cronicis hiftoricis poetarum philofophorum

To hem that shall it alday rede,

For thilke cause if that ye rede
I wolde the middel wey
go

And write a boke betwene the twey
Somwhat of luft, fomwhat of lore,
That of the laffe or of the more
Som man may like of that I write,
And for that fewe men endite
In oure englifshe, I thenke make*
A boke for Englondes fake

* MS. Harl. 3490:

In our englisfhe I thenke make
A boke for king Richardes fake,
To whom belongeth my legeaunce
With all min hertes obeifaunce,
In all that ever a lege man
Unto his king may done or can,
So ferforth and me recommaunde
To him, which all me may commaunde,
Preiend unto the highe regne,
Which causeth every king to regne,

That his corone longe ftonde.

I thenke and have it understonde,
As it befell upon a tide,

As thing, which fhulde tho betide,
Under the town of newe Troy,
Which toke of Brute his firste joy,
In Themfe, whan it was flowend,
As I by bote came rowend
So as fortune her time fette,
My lege lord perchaunce I mette.
And fo befell as I came nigh
Out of my bote, whan he me figh,
He bad me come into his barge.
And whan I was with him at large,

The fixtenthe of king Richard,
yere
What shall befalle here afterward,
God wote, for nowe upon this fide
Men feen the worlde on every fide
In fondry wife fo diverfed,

That it wel nigh stant all reversed.
As for to fpeke of time ago
The cause why it chaungeth fo
It nedeth nought to specifie,
The thing fo open is at eye,

Amonges other thinges faid

He hath this charge upon me laid
And bad me do my befineffe,
That to his highe worthyneffe
Some newe thing I fhulde boke,
That he him self it mighte loke
After the forme of my writing.
And thus upon his commaunding
Min herte is well the more glad
To write fo as he me bad.
And eke my fere is well the laffe,
That none envie fhall compaffe
Without a resonable wite
To feigne and blame, that I write.
A gentil herte his tunge stilleth,
That it malice none distilleth
But preife, that is to be preised.
But he that hath his worde unpeised
And handleth out wrong any thing,

I

pray unto the heven king

Fro fuche tunges he me fhilde.

And netheles this world is wilde

Of fuche jangling and what befalle,
My kinges heste shall nought falle,
That I in hope to deferve

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That every man it may beholde.

And netheles by daies olde,

Whan that the bokes weren lever,
Writinge was beloved ever
Of hem, that weren vertuous.
For here in erthe amonges us,
If no man write, howe it stood,
The pris of hem that were good
Shulde, as who faith a great partie,
Be loft, fo for to magnifie

The worthy princes that tho were
The bokes fhewen here and there
Wherof the worlde enfampled is
And tho that diden than amis

His thank ne fhall his will obferve
And elles were I nought excused.

For that thing may nought be refused,
What that a king him felfe bit.
Forthy the fimplesse of my wit
I thenke if that I may availe
In his fervice to travaile,

Though I fikeneffe have upon honde
And longe have had, yet woll I fonde,
So as I made my beheste,

To make a boke after his hefte
And write in fuch a maner wife,
Which may be wisdome to the wife
And play to hem that lift to play.
But in proverbe I have herde say,
That who that wel his werk beginneth,
The rather a good end he winneth.

And thus the prologue of my boke
After the world, that whilom toke,
And eke fomdele after the newe,
I woll beginne for to newe.

Through tiranny and cruelte,
Right as they stonden in degre
So was the writinge of here werke.
Thus I which am a borel clerke
Purpose for to write a boke

After the worlde, that whilom toke
Long time in olde daies paffed.
But for men fain it is now laffed
In worse plight than it was tho
I thenke for to touche also
The world, which neweth every day,
So as I can, fo as I may.

Though I fikeneffe have upon honde
And longe have had, yet wol I fonde
To write and do my befineffe,
That in fome part fo as I geffe
The wife man may ben advised.
For this prologue is so affised,
That it to wisdome all belongeth,
That wife man that it underfongeth
He fhal drawe into remembraunce
The fortune of this worldes chaunce,
The which no man in his persone
May knowe but the god alone.
Whan the prologue is fo difpended,
This boke fhall afterward ben ended
Of love, which doth many a wonder
And many a wife man hath put under,
And in this wife I thenke to treate
Towardes hem, that now be greate,

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