Anone as though they wolden fare.
But whan the blacke winter night
Withoute mone or sterre light
Bederked hath the water ftronde,
Al prively they gone to londe
Full armed out of the navie.
Simon, whiche made was here espie
Withinne Troie, as was confpired,
Whan time was a tokne hath fired,
And they with that here waie holden
And comen in right as they wolden,
There as the gate was to-broke.
The purpose was full take and spoke
any man may take kepe,
Of thilke fwerd, whiche al devoureth.
Full ofte and thus the fwete foureth,
Whan it is knowe to the tafte,
He spilleth many a worde in waste
That shal with such a people trete,
For whan he weneth most beyete
Than is he shape most to lese.
And right so if a woman chese
Upon the wordes that she hereth,
Som man whan he most true appereth
Than is he furtheft fro the trouthe.
But yet full ofte, and that is routhe,
They speden, that ben moft untrue
And loven every day a newe,
Wherof the life is after lothe
And love hath cause to be wrothe.
But what man that his luft defireth
Of love and therupon confpireth
With wordes feigned to deceive,
He shall nought faile to receive
His peine as it is ofte fene.
Forthy my fone, as I the mene,
It fit the well to taken hede,
That thou escheue of thy manhede
Ypocrifie and his semblaunt,
That thou ne be nought deceivaunt
To make a woman to beleve
Thing, whiche is nought in thy beleve.
For in fuche feint ypocrifie
Of love is all the trecherie,
Through which love is deceived ofte.
For feigned femblaunt is fo fofte,
Unnethes love may be ware.
Forthy my fone, as I well dare,
I charge the to flee that vice,
That many a woman hath made nice,
But loke thou dele nought with all.
Iwis my fader, no more I fhall.
Now fone kepe, that thou haft fwore.
For this that thou haft herd before
Is faid the first point of pride.
And next upon that other fide
To shrive and speken over this
Touchend of pride yet there is
The point seconde I the behote,
Which inobedience is hote.
Flectere quam frangi melius reputatur, et olle
Fictilis ad cacabum pugna valere nequit.
Quem neque lex hominum, neque lex divina valebit
Flectere, multociens corde reflectit amor.
Quem non flectit amor, non eft flectendus ab ullo,
Sed rigor illius plus elephante riget.
Dedignatur amor poterit quos fcire rebelles,
Et rudibus fortem preftat habere rudem.
Sed qui fponte fui fubicit fe cordis amori,
Frangit in adverfis omnia fata pius.
This vice of inobedience
Ayein the reule of confcience
All that is humble he difaloweth,
That he toward his god ne boweth
After the lawes of his hefte.
Nought as a man, but as a beste
Hic loquitur de fecunda fpecie fuperbie, que inobediencia dicitur. Et primo illius vicii naturam fimpli
citer declarat et tractat fubfequenter fuper illa inobediencia, que in
curia Cupidinis Whiche goth upon his luftes wilde
fam ex fua imbe- So goth this proude vice unmilde, cillitate fepiffime
retardat, in cuius That he difdeigneth alle lawe. materia confeffor He not what is to be felawe amanti fpecialius
And ferve he may nought for pride.
So is he ledde on every fide
And is that felve, of whom men speke,
Which woll nought bowe, er that he breke.
I not if love him might plie,
For elles for to justifie
His herte, I not what might availe.
Confeffor. Forthy my fone, of fuche entaile
If that thin herte be difpofed,
Telle out and let it nought be glosed.
For if that thou unbuxome be
To love, I not in what degre
Thou shalt thy good worde acheve.
My fader, ye fhal well beleve,
The yonge whelpe, which is affaited,
Hath nought his maister better awaited
To couche, whan he faith go lowe,
Than I anone, as I may knowe
My lady will me bowe more.
But other while I grucche fore
Of fome thinges, that she doth,
Wherof that I woll telle foth.
For of two pointes I am bethought,
That though I wolde I might nought
Obeie unto my ladies hest,
But I dare make this beheft
Sauf only of that ilke two,
I am unbuxome of no mo.
What ben tho two, tell on, quod he.
My fader, this is one, that she
Commaundeth me my mouthe to close,
And that I fhulde her nought oppose
In love, of whiche I ofte preche,
And plenerlich of fuche a speche
Forbere and fuffre her in pees.
But that ne might I netheles
For all this worlde obey iwis.
For whan I am there as she is,
Though the my tales nought allowe,
Ayein her will yet mote I bowe
To feche, if that I might have grace.
But that thing may I nought embrace
For ought that I can speke or do.
yet full ofte I fpeke so,
That she is wroth and faith: be stille.
If I that hefte fhall fulfille
And therto ben obedient,
Than is my cause fully fhent,
For specheles may no man spede.
So wote I nought what is to rede.
But certes I may nought obeie,
That I ne mote algate faie
Some what of that I wolde mene,
For ever it is a liche
The great love which I have,
Wherof I can nought bothe fave
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