He that which held him to the king, That he first chese upon this thing. Hesigh hem, but he felt hem nought, So that upon his owne thought He chese the capon and forsoke That other, which his felaw toke. But whan he wist how that it ferde, He said aloud, that men it herde : 'Now have I certainly conceived, That he may lightly be deceived That tristeth unto mannes helpe. But wel is him, that God wol helpe, For he stant on the siker side, Whiche ellés shuldé go beside. I se my felaw wel recouer, And I mot dwellé stillé pouer. Thus spake the begger his entent, And pouer hecam and pouer he went, Of that he hath richessé sought His infortúne it woldé nought. So may it shewe in sondry wise Betwene Fortune and Covetise The chaunce is cast upon a dee, But yet full oft a man may see Inough of suché nethéles Which ever put hem self in pres To get hem good, and yet they faile.
"And for to speke of this entaile Touchend of Love in thy matere, My godé sone, as thou might here, That right as it with tho men stood Of infortune of worldés good, As thou hast herd me tell above, Right so full ofte it stant by Love; Though thou coveite it evermore Thou shalt nought have o dele the more,
But only that which the is shape, The remenaunt is but a jape. And nethéles inough of tho There ben that now coveiten so That where as they a woman se, To ten or twelvé though there be, The love is now so unavised That where the beauté stant assised
The mannes herte anone is there And rouneth1 talés in her ere And saith, how that he loveth streite. And thus he set him to coveite, An hundred though he sigh a day, So wolde he moré than he may. So for the greté Covetise Of soty2 and of fool emprise In eche of hem he fint somwhat, That pleseth him, or this or that: Some one, for she is white of skinne, Some one, for she is noble of kinne, Someone, for she hath a rody cheke, Some one, for that she semeth meke, Some one, for she hath eyen grey, Someone, for she can laugh and pley, Someone, for she is longe and small, Some one, for she is lithe and tall, Some one, for she is pale and bleche, Some one, for she is softe of speche, Some one, for that she is camused, Some one, for she hath nought ben used,
Some one, for she can daunce and sing,
So that some thing of his liking He fint; and though no more he fele
But that she hath a litel hele, It is inough, that he therfore Herlove; and thus an hundred score, While they be new, hewolde he had, Whom he forsaketh she shall be bad. The blindé man no colour demeth, But all is one right as him semeth ; So hath his lust no jugément Whom Covetise of Lové blent.4 Him thenketh, to his Covetise, How all the world ne may suffise, For by his will he wolde have all, If that it mighté so befall. So is he comun as the strete,
"Nay fader, such love I despise, And while I livé shal don ever, For in good feith yet had I lever Than to coveite in suche a wey To ben for ever till I deie As pouer as Job and lovéles Out taken one, for havéles His thonkés1 is no man alive, For that a man shulde all unthrive There ought no wisé man coveite, The lawé was nought set so streite. Forthý my self withall to save Suche one there is I woldé have And none of all this other mo."
"Mysone, of that thou woldest so, I am nought wroth; but over this I woll the tellen howe it is.
For there be men which other wise Right only for the covetise
Of that they seen a woman riche, There wol they all her love affiche. Nought for the beauté of her face, Ne yet for vertu, ne for grace, Which she hath ellés right inough, But for the parke and for the plough And other thing which therto longeth,
For in none other wise hem longeth To lové but they profit finde. And if the profit be behinde, Her love is ever lesse and lesse, For after that she hath richesse Her love is of proportión. If thou hast such conditión, My soné, tell right as it is.”- "Min holy fader, nay iwis, Condición such have I none. For truly fader, I love one So well, with all min hertés thought,
1 Haveles his thonkes, wanting possession, with his own good will. But, unless. 3 Her their.
That certés though she haddé nought
And were as pouer as Medeá, Which was exiléd for Creusá, I wolde her nought the lassé love; Ne though she were at her above As was the riché quene Candace, Which to deservé love and grace To Alisaundre that was king Yaf many a worthy riché thing; Or ellés as Pantasilee, Which was the quene of Feminee And great richessé with her nam Whan she for love of Hector cam To Troy in rescousse of the town; I am of such condicióun,
That though my lady of her selve Were al so riche as suché twelve, I couthé nought though it were so No better love her than I do. For I love in so pleine1 a wise, That for to speke of Covetise As for pouerte or for richesse My love is nouther more ne lesse. For in good feith I trowé this, So covetous no man there is For why and he my lady sigh That he through loking of his eye Neshuld have such a stroke withinne That for no gold he mighté winne He shuldé nought her love asterte But if he lefté there his herte: Be so it weré such a man That couthé skille of a womán. For there ben men so rudé some Whan they among the women come They gon under protectiön, That love and his affectiön Neshal nought take hem by the sleve For they ben out of that beleve; Hem lusteth of no lady chere, But ever thenken there and here Where that her golde is in the cofre And wol none other lové profer. 1 Pleine, full.
But who so wot what love amounteth And by resón truliche accompteth, Than may he knowe and taken hede That all the lust of womanhede Which may ben in a ladies face My lady hath, and eke of grace, If men shuld yiven her apprise They may wel say how she is wise And sober and simple of coun- tenaunce,
And all that to good governaunce Belongeth of a worthy wight She hath pleinlý. For thilké night That she was bore as for the nones Natúré set in her at ones Beauté with bounté so besein, That I may well afferme and sain, I sigh yet never creätúre Of comlyhede and of fetúre In any kingés región
Be liche her in comparison. And therto, as I have you tolde, Yet hath she more a thousand folde Of bounté, and shortly to telle She is the puré hede and welle And mirrour and ensample of good; Who so her vertues understood Me thenketh it ought inough suffise Withouten other Covetise
To lové suche one and to serve, Which with her cheré can deserve To be belovéd better iwis Than she par cas that richest is And hath of golde a millión. Suche hath be min opinión And ever shall. But nethéles I say she is nought havéles,1 That she nis riche and well at ese And hath inough wherwith to plese Of worldés good whom that her list. But o thing wold I wel ye wist, That never for no worldés good Min hert unto ward hiré stood, But only right for puré love, 1 Havéles, wanting possessions.
That wot the highé God above. Now fader, what say ye therto ?"
"My sone, I say it is wel do. For take of this right good beleve, What man that wol him self releve To love in any other wise He shall wel finde his Covetise Shall soré greve him atté laste, For such a lové may nought laste. But now men sain in ouré daies Men maken but a few assaies But if the causé be richesse, Forthý the love is well the lesse. And who that wold ensamples telle By oldé daiés as they felle, Than might a man wel understonde Such lové may nought longé stonde. Now herken, sone, and thou shalt here
A great ensample of this matere. To frete upon the cas of love, So as we tolden here above, I findé write a wonder thing. Of Puilé whilom was a king, A man of high complexion And yong, but his affection After the nature of his age Was yet not falle in his coráge The lust of women for to knowe. So it betid upon a throwe, This lord fell into great sikenesse. Phisique hath done the besinesse Of sondry curés many one To make him hole, and therupon A worthy maister which there was, Yaf him counseil upon this cas, That if he wolde have parfite hele, He shuldé with a woman dele. For than he said him redely, That he shal be al hole therby, And other wise he knew no cure. The king, which stood in aventúre Of life and deth for medicine, Assented was, and of covine His steward, whom he trusteth well,
He toke and told him every dele, How that this maister haddé said. And therupon he hath him praid And chargéd upon his legeaúnce, That he do maké purveaúnce
And badde him, how that ever it stood,
That he shall sparé for no good, For his will is right well to pay. The steward said, he wolde assay. "But now here after thou shalt
As I finde in the bokés write, What Covetise in Lové doth. This steward, for to tellé soth, Amongés all the men alive A lusty lady hath to wive, Which nethéles for gold he toke And nought for love, as saith the boke.
A riché marchaunt of the londe Her fader was, and he her fonde So worthély and such richesse Of worldés good and such largesse With her he yaf in mariáge, That only for thilke avauntáge Of good the steward hath her take, For lucre and nought for lovés sake. And that was afterward wel sene. Nowe herken, what it woldé mene. This steward in his owné hert Sigh that his lord may nought astert His maladie but he have A lusty woman him to save, And tho he woldé yive inough Of his tresor; wherof he drough Great Covetise into his minde And set his honour fer behinde. Thus he whom gold hath oversette Was trapped in his owné nette. The gold hath made his wittés lame, So that sechénd his owné shame He rouneth in the kingés ere And said him that he wisté where A gentil and a lusty one
Tho was, and thider wold he gone, But he mote yivé yeftés great, For but it be through great beyete Of gold, he said, he shuld nought spede.
The king him bad upon the nede That take an hundred pound he sholde
And yive it where that he wolde, Be so it were in worthy place. And thus to stonde in lovés grace This king his gold hath abandóned. And whan this tale was full rouned, The steward toke the gold and went Within his herte and many a went1 Of covetisé than he caste, Wherof a purpos atté laste Ayein love and ayein his right He toke and saide, how thilké night His wife shall liggé by the king. And goth thenkénd upon this thing Toward his inn till he cam home Into the chambre, and than he nome His wife and tolde her al the cas. And she, which red for shamé was, With bothe her hondés hath him praid
Knelénd and in this wise said, That she to reson and to skill In what thing that he biddé will Is redy for to done his heste But 2 this thing that were nought honéste,
That he for gold her shuldé selle. And he tho with his wordés felle Forth with his gastly countenaunce Saith, that she shall done obeisaúnce And folwe his wille in every place. And thus through strength of his manáce
Her innocénce is overladde, Wherof she was so sore adradde, That she his will mot nede obey. And therupon was shape a wey. 2 But, except.
When it was nigh upon the day The steward thanné where she lay Cam to the bed and in this wise Hath biddé that she shulde arise. The king saith: Nay, she shall nought go."
The steward said ayein: 'Noughtso, For she mot gone er it be knowe, And so I swore at thilké throwe, Whan I her fetté to you here.' The king his talé wol nought here And saith how that he hath her bought
Forthy she shall departé nought, But who she was he knew nothing. Tho cam the steward to the king And praid him that withouté shame In saving of her godé name He mighté leaden home ayeine This lady, and hath told him pleine How that it was his owné wife. The king his ere unto this strife Hath leid, and whan that he it herde, Well nigh out of his wit he ferde And said: 'Ha, caitif most of alle, Where was it ever er this befalle, That any cokard in this wise Betoke his wife for covetise. Thou hast bothe her and me beguiled And eke thin own estate reviled, Wherof that buxom unto the Here after shall she never be. For this avow to God I make After this day, if I the take, Thou shalt be hongéd and to-drawe. Now loke anone thou be withdrawe, So that I se the never more!' This steward thanné drad him sore, With all the hasté that he may And fled awey the samé day, And was exiléd out of lond.
Lo, there a nicé husébond, Which thus hath loste his wife for
But nethéles she hadde a lever;
The king her weddeth and honoureth,
Wherof her namé she soccoúreth, Which erst was lost through covetise Of him that lad her other wise And hath him self also forlore.
"My soné, be thou ware therfore, Where thou shalt love in any place, That thou no Covetise embrace, The which is nought of Lovés kinde. But for all that a man may finde Now in this time of thilké rage Full great disese in mariage, Whan venim medleth with the sucre And mariage is made for lucre Or for the lust or for the hele, What man that shall with other dele He may nought failé to repent."My fader, such is min entent. But nethéles good is to have, For good may ofté timé save The love which shulde ellés spille. But God which wot min hertes wille I dar wel také to witnesse, Yet was I never for richesse Beset with mariágé none, For all min herte is upon one So frely that in the persone Stant all my worldés joy alone. I axé nouther park ne plough, If I her hadde, it were inough, Her lové shuldé me suffise Withouten other Covetise. Lo now, my fader, as of this Touchend of me right as it is My shrifte I am beknowé plein, And if ye wol ought elles sain Of Covetise if there be more In Love, agropeth out the sore.
My soné, thou shalt under- stonde,
How Covetise hath yet on honde In speciáll two counselors, That ben also his procurors. The first of hem is Fals Witnesse,
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