Was shape into a nutté-tre,
That allé men it mighté se,
And after Phillis philliberd'
This tre was clepéd in the yerd,
And yet for Demephon to shame
Into this day it bereth the name.
This wofull chaunce how that it ferde
Anone as Demephon it herde
And every man it hadde in speche,
His sorwe was nought tho to seche,
He gan his Slouthé for to banne,2
But it was all to laté thanne,

"Lo, thus, my soné, might thou
wite

Ayein this Vice how it is write,
For no man may the harmés gesse,
That fallen through Foryetelnesse,
Wherof that I thy shrift have herd.
But yet of Slouthe how it hath ferd
In other wise I thenke oppose,
If thou have gilt, as I suppose,

Fulfilled of Slouthes exemplaire There is yet one his secretaire, And he is clepéd Negligence, Which woll nought loke his evidence,

Wherof he may beware to-fore.

But whan he hath his causé lore Than is he wise after the honde, Whan helpé may no maner bonde Than atté firsté wold he binde. Thus evermore he stant behinde, Whan he the thing may nought amende,

Than is he ware, and saith at ende :

He hath a maner eke also,
Him list nought lerné to be wise,
For he sette of no vertu prise
But as him liketh for the while,
So feleth he ful ofté guile
Whan that he weneth siker to
stonde.

And thus thou might wel understonde,

My sone, if thou art suche in love Thou might nought come at thin above

Of that thou woldest wel acheve."

"Min holy fader, as I leve, I may wel with sauf conscience Excuse me of Negligence Towardés Love in allé wise. For though I be none of the wise, I am so truly amorous, That I am ever curioús

Of hem that conné best enforme To knowe and witen all the forme, What falleth unto Lovés craft. But yet ne fond I nought the haft Which might unto the blade accorde, For never herd I men recorde What thinge it is that might availe To winné love withouté faile. Yet so fer couthe I never finde Man that by reson ne by kinde Me couthé teché suche an arte, That he ne failed of a parte. And as toward min owné wit Contrive I couthé never yit To finden any sikernesse, That me might other more or lesse Of Lové maké for to spede. For leveth wel withouten drede, If that there weré suche a wey As certainly as I shall deie I hadde it lernéd longe ago; But I wot wel there is none so, And nethéles it may wel be I am so rude in my degré And eke my wittés ben so dull,

That I ne may nought to the full
Atteigne unto so highe a lore.
But this I dar say overmore,
All though my Wit ne be nought
stronge,

It is nought on my Will alonge;
For that is besy night and day
To lerne all that he lerné may,
How that I mighté Lové winne.
But yet I am as to beginne
Of that I woldé make an ende,
And for I not1 how it shall wende,
That is to me my mosté sorwe.
But I dare také God to borwe,
As after min entendement
None other wisé negligent
Than I you say have I nought be.
Forthý pur sainté charité

Tell me, my fader, what you semeth."

"In good feith, soné, wel me
quemeth,

That thou thy self hast thus acquit
Toward this Vice in which no wit
Abidé may, for in an houre
He lest 2 all that he may laboure
The longé yere, so that men sain
What ever he doth it is in vein.
For through the Slouth of Negli-
gence

There was yet never such science
Ne vertue which was bodely,
That nis destruied and lost therby.
Ensample that it hath be so,
In boke I findé write also.

'hebus, which is the sonné hote, That shineth upon erthé hote And causeth every livés helth, He hadde a sone in all his welth, Which Pheton hight, and he desireth

And with his moder he conspireth, The which was clepéd Clemene, For helpe and counseil, so that he 2 Lest, lost.

1 Not, know not.

His faders carté1 ledé might
Upon the fairé daiés light.
And for this thing they bothé praide
Unto the fader, and he saide,
He wolde wel, but forth with all
Thre points he bad in speciall
Unto his sone in allé wise,
That he him shuldé wel avise
And take it as by wey of lore.
First was, that he his hors to sore
Ne prike; and over that he tolde,
That he the reines fasté holde;
And also that he be right ware
In what manér he lede his chare,
That he mistaké nought his gate,
But upon avisement algate
He shuldé bere a siker eye,
That he to lowé ne to high
His carté drive at any throwe,
Wherof that he might overthrowe.
And thus by Phebus ordenaunce
Toke Pheton into governaunce
The sonnés carté, which he ladde.
But he such veiné glorie hadde
Of that he was set upon high,
That he his own estate ne sigh
Through negligence, and toke none
hede.

So might he welnought longé spede.
For he the hors withouten lawe
The carté let abouté drawe
Where as hem liketh wantonly,
That atté lasté sodeinly,
For he no reson woldé knowe,
This firy cart he drove to lowe
And fireth all the worlde aboute;
Wherof they weren all in doubte,
And to the god for helpé criden
Of suche unhappés as betiden.
Phebus, which sigh the negligénce,
How Pheton ayein his defence 2
His chare hath drive oute of the wey
Ordeigneth that he fel awey

1 Carte, chariot.

2 Defence, forbidding.

Out of the cart into the flood
And dreinté. Lo now, how it stood
With him, that was so negligent,
That fro the highé firmament,
For that he woldé go to lowe,
He was anone down overthrowe.
In high estate it is a Vice
To go to lowe, and in servíce
It greveth for to go to high,
Wherof a tale in poesie

I finde, how whilom Dedalus Whiche hadde a sone and Icharus He hight, and though hem thoughté lothe

In such prison they weren bothe With Minotaurus, that aboute They mighten no where wenden

oute.

So they begonné for to shape
How they the prison might escape.
This Dedalus, which fro his youthe
Was taught and many craftés couthe,
Of fethers and of other thinges
Hath made to flee diversé winges
For him and for his sone also;
To whome he yaf in chargé tho
And bad him thenké therupon,
How that his wingés ben set on
With wex, and if he toke his flight
To high, all sodeinlich he might
Make it to melté with the sonne.
And thus they have her flight be-
gonne

Out of the prison faire and softe.
And whan they weren both alofte,
This Icharus began to mounte
And of the counseil none acompte
He setté whiche his fader taught,
Til that the sonne his wingés caught,
Wherof it malt, and fro the hight
Withouten helpe of any flight
He fell to his destruction.
And lich to that conditiön
There fallen ofte times fele

For lacke of governaunce in wele

Als wel in love as other wey.".

"Now godé fader, I you prey, If there be more in this matere Of Slouthé, that I might it here."

"My sone, as for thy diligence,
Whiche every mannés conscience
By reson shuldé reule and kepe,
If that thee list to také kepe,

I wol thee tell aboven alle,
In whom no vertu may befalle,
Whiche yiveth unto the Vices rest
And is of Slouthé the slowest.

Among these other of Slouthés
kinde,
Whiche allé labour set behinde,
And hateth allé besinesse,
There is yet one, whiche Idelnesse
Is clepéd, and is the noríce
In mannés kinde of every Vice,
Which secheth esés many folde.
In winter doth he nought for colde;
In somer may he nought for hete;
So wether that he frese or swete,
Or be he in, or be he oute,
He woll ben idel all aboute,
But if he pleié ought at dees.
For who as ever také fees
And thenketh worship to deserve,
| There is no lord whome he woll serve
As for to dwelle in his service,
But if it were in suche a wise,
Of that he seeth par aventure,
That by lordship and coverture
He may the moré stondé stille
And use his Idelnesse at wille.
For he ne woll no travail take
To ride for his ladies sake,
But liveth all upon his wisshes,
And as a cat wold eté fisshes
Withoute weting of his cles,
So wolde he do, but nethéles
He faileth ofte of that he wolde.
"My sone, if thou of suche a molde
Art made, now tell me plein thy
shrift."-

"Nay fader, god I yive a yift, That toward Love, as by my wit All idel was I never yit,

Ne never shall, while I may go.”-
"Now, soné, tellé me than so,
What hast thou done of besiship
To Love and to the ladyship
Of heré which thy lady is?"--
"My fader, ever yet er this
In every place, in every stede,
What so my lady hath me bede,
With all min herte obedient
I have therto be diligent.
And if so is that she bid nought,
What thing that than into my
thought

Cometh first, of that I may suffise,
I bowe and profre my servíce.
Somtime in chambre, somtime in
halle,

Right so as I se the timés falle,
And whan she goth to heré masse
That time shall nought overpasse,
That I napproche her ladyhede
In aunter if I may her lede
Unto the chapel and ayein,
Than is nought all my wey in vein.
Somdele I may the better fare,
Whan I, that may nought fele her
bare,

May lede her clothed in min arme.
But afterwarde it doth me harme
Of pure ymaginatión,

For thanne this collatión
I make unto my selven ofte
And say: 'Ha lord, how she is softe,
How she is round, how she is small,
Now woldé God, I hadde her all
Withouté daunger at my wille!'
'And than I sike and sitté stille,
Of that I se my besy thought
Is tornéd idel into nought.
But for all that let I ne may,
Whan I se time another day,
That I ne do my besinesse

Unto my ladies worthinesse.
For I therto my wit affaite1
To se the timés and awaite
What is to done, and what to leve.
And so whan time is, by her leve
What thing she bit me don, I do,
And where she bit me gon, I go,
And whan her list to clepe, I come.
Thus hath she fulliche overcome
Min Idelnessé til I sterve,

So that I mot her nedés serve.
For as men sain, nede hath no lawe,
Thus mote I nedely to her drawe;
I serve, I bowe, I loke, I loute,
Min eyé folweth her aboute.
What so she wollé so woll I,
Whan she woll sit, I knelé by,
And whan she stont, than woll I
stonde,

And whan she taketh her werk on

honde

Of weving or of embrouderie, Than can I nought but muse and

prie

Upon her fingers longe and smale.

And nowe I thenke, and nowe I tale,
And nowe I singe, and nowe I sike,
And thus my contenaunce I pike.2
And if it falle, as for a timé

Her liketh nought abidé by me
But busien her on other thinges,
Than make I other tarienges
To drecché forth the longé day,
For me is loth departe away.
And than I am so simple of port,
That for to feigné some desporte
I pleié with her litel hound
Nowe on the bed, nowe on the

ground,

Now with the briddés in the cage,
For there is none so litel page
Ne yet so simple a chamberere,
That I ne make hem allé chere,

1 Affaite, bring to fitness.
2 Pike, make peep.

All for they shuldé speké wele.
Thus mow ye se my besy whele,
That goth nought ideliche aboute.
And if her list to riden oute
On pelrinage or other stede,
I comé, though I be nought bede,
And take her in min arme alofte
And set her in her sadel softe
And so forth lede her by the bridel,
For that I woldé nought ben idel.
And if her list to ride in chare,
And than I may therof beware,
Anone I shapé me to ride
Right even by the charés side.
And as I may, I speke amonge,
And other while I singe a songe,
Whiche Ovide in his bokés made,
And said: 'O whiché sorwés glad,
O which wofúll prosperité
Belongeth to the propreté

Of Love? Who so wold him serve,
And yet there fromay no man swerve,
That he ne mot his lawe obey.'
And thus I ridé forth my wey
And am right besy overall
With herte, and with my body all,
As I have saide you here to-fore.
My godé fader tell therfore
Of Idelnesse if I have gilt."-

"My soné, but thou tellé wilt
Ought elles than I may now here,
Thou shalt have no penauncé here.
And nethéles a man may se,
How now a daiés that there be
Full many of such hertés slowe,
That woll nought besien hem to
knowe

What thing Love is, til atté last, That he with strengthe hem over

cast

That malgré hem they mot obey
And done all idelship awey
To servé wel and besiliche.
But, soné, thou art none of sich,
For Lové shall thee wel excuse.

But otherwise if thou refuse
To love thou might so par cas
Ben idel, as somtimé was
A kingés doughter unavised,
Til that Cupide her hath chastised,
Wherof thou shalt a talé here
Accordant unto this matere.

Of Armenie I redé thus,
There was a king whiche Herupus
Was hote, and he a lusty maide
To doughter had, and as men saide
Her name was Rosiphelé,

Which tho was of great renomé.

For she was bothé wise and faire
And shuldé ben her faders heire.
But she had o defaulte of Slouthe
Towardés Love, and that was routhe.
For so well couthé no man say
Which mighté set her in the way
Of Lovés occupación

Through none ymaginación;
That scolé woldé she nought knowe.
And thus she was one of the slowe
As of suche hertés besinesse,
Till whanné Venus the goddesse,
Which Lovés Court hath for to
reule,

Hath brought her into better reule
Forth with Cupide, and with his

might,

For they merveile of suche a wight,
Which tho was in her lusty age
Desireth not of mariage.
For he, that highé hertés loweth,
With firy dartés whiche he throweth,
Cupidé, whiche of Love is god,
In chastisínge hath made a rod
To drive away her wantonnesse,
So that within a while I gesse
She had on suche a chauncé sporned1
That all her mod was overtorned,
Which first she had, of slowe

manere.

For thus it felle, as thou shalt here. 1 Sporned, stumbled against.