He dide his might him to conforte and qweeme;
And right anoon, withoute any delay,
Upon his heed bad sette his diadeeme
Ageyn; and so was doon, it is no nay.
Whan Cesar Emperour eek on a day
Pompeye saw byforn him led and bownde,
Cesar in teeres salte gan habownde.
Whan Alisaundre, as Valerie hath told,
Was in a tyme in the feeld with his hoost,
An aged knyght of his, for verray cold,
His lyfly might yloren hadde almoost,
So grevous tempest tho fil in that coost.
 Thus may kynges leere
Distressid knyghtes to helpe and releeve;
To take ensaumple of this it shal naght greeve.
What wondir was it thogh that knyghtes tho
Desyreden so noble a prince serve,
Syn that him lever was for to forgo
His dignitee and hir helthe conserve,
Than his estat keepe and hem suffre sterve?
Yit hope y seen his heir in this province;
And that shal yee be, my good lord the Prince.
Before a juge eek in poynt to be deed,
Of Julius Cesar ther was a knyght
Which, with an hy vois, for to save his heed,
To his lord Cesar cryde alowde right,
Byseechynge him that, of his gracious might,
He wolde him helpe and reewe on his estat;
And Cesar sente him a good advocat.
And unto that this knyght as blyve thus,
On heighte wel that al the peple it herde,
With manly cheere spak to Julius,
His lord, and in this wyse he him answerde:
"Han yee forgote how sharpe it with yow ferde
Whan yee were in the werres of Asie?
Maffeith, your lyf stood there in jupartie;
And advocat ne sente I noon to yow,
But myself putte in prees and for yow faght;
My wowndes beren good witnesse ynow
That I sooth seye, and lest yee leeve it naght,
I shal yow shewe what harm have I caght,
The doute out of your herte for to dryve."
He nakid him and shewid him as blyve.
Of which Cesar ful sore was ashamed,
And in his herte sorwe made and mone;
He heeld himselven worthy to be blamed.
"My freend," he seide, "let me now allone;
Advocat wole I be in my persone
For thee; I am wel holden to do so."
And thus this knyght his deeth he saved fro.
He dredde him, if he nadde thus ywroght,
The peple him wolde han for a prowd man deemed,
And ungentil, and that he cowde noght,
As that it sholde eek have unto hem seemed,
Thanke hem that worthy were to be qweemed.
"What prince," quod he, "peyneth him nat wynne
His knyghtes love, his love is to hem thynne."
Out of pitee growith mercy and spryngith,
For pitelees man can do no mercy;
What prince hem lakkith, nat aright he kyngith.
And for that they been neigheburghs so ny,
To pitee mercy joyne now wole I.
Excellent Prince, have in hem good savour,
And elles al in waast is your labour.
De misericordia
Mercy, aftir the word of Seint Austyn,
Of herte is a verray conpassioun
Of othir mennes harm, and that comth yn
By gifte of God and by remissioun;
As, if injurie or oppressioun
Be doon to us, that gilt forgeve us oghte,
For love of Cryst that by deeth our lyf boghte.
Whoso wrong to him doon wole forgeve,
His synne shal to him forgeven be;
Thogh that he nothyng of his goodes geve,
The bettre part yit of mercy halt he;
Thus fynde I writen of auctoritee;
But fully may ther no man do mercy
But if that he releeve the needy.
Thogh that a man be sobre, chaast, and treewe,
And be with many an hy vertu endowed,
And geve, and nat forgeve, it shal him reewe.
Whereas oure werkes muste been avowed,
The unmerciable shal be disallowed.
Who nat forgeveth, mercy dooth he noon,
And mercilees man mercy shal forgoon.
Mercy Cryst causid to been incarnat,
And humbled Him to take our brethirhede.
God inmortel, reewynge our seek estat,
Mortel becam to pourge our synful dede.
Him lothid nat His precious body sprede
Upon the Crois, this lord benigne and good;
He wroot our chartre of mercy with His blood.
Of Him, His handwerk and His creature,
For to be merciable, aright may lerne.

Take heede, excellent Prince, of your grauntsyre,
How in his werkes he was merciable.
He that for mercy dyde qwyte his hyre.
He nevere was in al his lyf vengeable,
But ay forgaf the gilty and coupable.
Our lige lord your fadir dooth the same;
Now folwe hem two, my Lord, in Goddes name!
They often hadde greet cause hem to venge,
But hir spirites benigne and peisible
Thoghten that craft unlusty and alenge
And forbaar it; they kneew it unlisible.
To mercy were hir hertes ay flexible;
Forwhy with mercy God shal qwyte hem wel,
Aftir the wordes write in the Gospel.
It is to leeve and deeme, if a kyng shyne
In vertu, that his sone sholde sue
And to his fadres maneeres enclyne
And wikkid tecches and vices eschue.
Thus oghte it be, this to nature is due.
He moot considere of whom he took his kynde,
And folwe his vertu, as men writen fynde.
He moost is lyk to God, as seith Bernard,
That holdith nothyng more precious
Than to be mercyful. It is ful hard
To lakke mercy and been unpitous.
"Mercy wole I," seith our Lord glorious.
He that denyeth God that he wolde have,
God nayte him shal that he wole axe or crave.
Senek seith how the kyng and the ledere
Of bees is prikkelees; he hath right noon
Wherwith to styngen or annoye or dere;
But othir bees prikkes han everichoon.
Nature wolde shee sholde it forgoon
And do no crueltee unto the swarm,
But meekly hem governe and do noon harm.
Of this ensample sholde kynges take,
And princes that han peple for to gye;
For to hem longith it for Goddes sake
To weyve crueltee and tirannye,
And to pitee hir hertes bowe and wrye,
And reule hir peple esyly and faire.
It is kyngly be meek and debonaire.
I rede of a kyng that Pirus was named,
Whan him was told how that men of Tarente
Hadde at a feeste his estat diffamed,
He for the same folkes blyve sente;
And whan they cam, axid to what entente
They of him spak so and so foule ferde;
And oon of hem, as yee shul heere, answerde:
"My Lord, if that the wyn nat faillid hadde,
Al that we spak nere but game and play,
Havynge reward to the wordes badde
That we thoghte have yspoken, in good fay."
The kyng took up a lawghtre and wente his way
And of al that he heeld hem ful excusid;
He seide it was wyn that so hem accusid.
Vengeance in this good lord hadde no stide;
Mercy and humble disposicioun
Dispensid with tho men and grace hem dide,
And thriste undir foot crueltee adoun.

Power withouten mercy a kyng torneth
Into a tirant - waar that feendly chek;
For in what man that crueltee sojourneth,
Unto his soule it is an odious spek.
Tho men of God han neithir look ne bek
But if that it be bekkes of manace;
Whereas is mercy, folwith moche grace.
Salomon in his Proverbes expressith,
"Mercy and Trouthe wardeynes been of kynges,
And with justice also," as he witnessith,
"His trone is strengthid." What man that a kyng is,
But if that he amonges othir thynges
Endowid be with alle thise three,
Men seyn he haltith in his hy degree.
A noble and glorious kynde of vengeance is
A knyght to spare whan that he slee may.
Ther was a duc callid Pisistaris,
That a yong doghtir hadde, a fair may,
Which with hir modir walkid on a day,
Nat seith the book whidir ne what to doone,
But thus it shoop, as I shal telle soone.
A yong, fressh, lusty, wel byseyen man
So brente in love, he wende for to deye,
Ravyssht of the beautee of this womman,
This tendre morsel, this doghtir, I seye.
And as this yong man mette hire in the weye,
He at a leep was at hire and hire kiste.
The modir, angry wood whan shee it wiste,
Shee right anoon hir lord the duc besoghte
To putte him to the deeth for his trespas.
He seide, nay, to do that nevere he thoghte.
"Shul we sleen hem that loven us? Allas!
What shul we thanne in the contrarie cas -
That is to seyn, do to oure enemys?"
Thus seide this duc, merciable and wys.
Allas, why was this womman so vengeable?
Certes in that shee lakkid wommanhede.
This lovere had been deed, it is no fable,
If this duc had been lyk to hir in dede;
But mercy him forbad any blood shede;
Shee and pitee weren of oon accord,
And senten pacience unto this lord.
And for as mochil as that pacience
To mercy, as in lyne of blood, atteyneth,
Now wole I do my peyne and diligence
To telle how hir benignitee restreyneth
The fervent hete that the herte peyneth
Wreche cruel to take, and sharp vengeance,
Of that the herte of man feelith grevance.
De Paciencia
Gregorie seith, pacience verray
Is of harm doon to man softe souffrance,
And nat be wrooth, by no manere of way,
With him that hath ydoon a man nusance.
Socrates seith, no mannes governance
Is wys but it be by souffrance preeved;
A good man souffreth wrong and is nat meeved.
The kynde of pacience is to susteene
Mightily wronges and hem nevere wreke,
But hem forgeve, and wratthe and irous teene
Out of the herte for to spere and steke;
Hir kynde is nat to lete a word out breke
That harmful is, for herte voide of ire
Hath naght wherwith to sette a tonge afyre.
O pacient, o humble kyng benigne,
O Kyng David, thy pacient meeknesse
Nat meeved was ageyn Semey maligne,
Whos hy malice and crabbid wikkidnesse
Gaf greet encheson to thy worthynesse
To venge thee, but thy benignitee
Forbad thyn hand to kythe crueltee.
As this kyng ones cam to Bahurim,
Out cam this man, malicious Semey,
Sone of Gera, and swich despyt dide him
And to his men as by him wenten they,
Castynge stones unto hem alwey,
That wondir was; for which oon Abusay
Wolde have him slayn, but the kyng seide, "Nay!
"Let him curse aftir the commandement
Of God; whan he seeth myn afflicioun
And my disese and my grevous torment,
He wole for this dayes malicioun,
Par aventure, do me sum guerdoun."
Thus undirstonde I write is in the Bible,
Which is a book autentik and credible.
The pacience of Job men may nat hyde;
The commun vois wole algate it bywreye.
And Alisaundre, whos fame is sprad ful wyde,
Ful pacient was, as the bookes seye.
A sad, wys knyght of his, with lokkes greye,
Grucchynge ageyn his flesshly lustes, seide
Unto his lord and thus he him upbreide:
"O Alisaundre, it is uncovenable
Thee for to have of peple regiment
Syn thy lust bestial and miserable
Hath qweynt thy reson and entendement
So ferfoorth that the hete violent
Of leccherie is in thee, Lord and Syre.
Repreef, I drede, qwyte shal thyn hyre.
"Fy, shamelees, unworthy Governour!"
And whan the knyghtes tale was al endid,
The kyng answerde: "I knowe myn errour;"
And paciently seide, "I have offendid,
I woot it wel, and it shal been amendid."
A man also to Julius Cesar ones
Crabbidly seide and shrewdly for the nones,
And among othir wordes that he speek:
"Julius," quod he, "make it nat so tow,
For of thy birthe art thow nat worth a leek.
Whens that thow cam men knowen wel ynow;
Weenest thow nat that I can tellen how
Thy fadir was a bakere? O let be,
Ne make it nat so qweynte, I preye thee."
Smylynge unto him spak this emperour:
"Whethir supposist thow bet that noblesse
Begynne in me, or noblesse and honour
Deffaille in thee?" This question, I gesse,
Was in swich cas but answer of softnesse;
For that was seid in repreef of his name,
His pacience, as who seith, took in game.
To the chivalrous, worthy Scipio
Of Affrik also speek ones a wight
And seide, in armes durste he but smal do;
He faght but smal whan he cam to the fight.
And paciently answerde he anoon right:
"My modir me baar, a chyld feeble and smal,
And foorth me broghte, and no fightere at al."
Senek seith how the kyng Antigone
Herde ones folk speke of him wikkidly,
For ther nas but a curtyn, as seith he,
Twixt him and hem; and whan his tyme he sy,
Asyde he drow the curtyn sodeynly
And seide: "Gooth hens lest the kyng yow heere,
For the curtyn hath herd al your mateere."
Of Duk Pisistaris eek wole I telle.
He hadde a freend, Arispus was his name,
Which ones hastily with wordes felle
Rebukid so this duc that it was shame
To heeren it; and yit with sorwe and grame
He in despyt spette in this dukes face,
And he therto no word spak in that place.
He hadde him so in port and word and cheere
Right as him had be do no vilenye,
But lookid foorth in a freendly maneere.
Now ther were in this dukes conpaignie
His sones two, that buskid hem in hye
To this Arispus and wolden ful fayn,
Nad hir fadir hem let, have him yslayn.
The nexte day aftir, this Arispus
To take gan consideracioun
How that he to the duc misbaar him thus,
And made more waymentacioun
Than I can make of nominacioun;
He wolde han slayn himself, it is no lees,
But that this duc broghte al to reste and pees.
Whan he kneew how it with Arispus stood,
He dressid him to him, and that as swythe,
And bad him to be glad of cheere and mood.
He seide and swoor unto him ofte sythe:
"As freendly wole I be and stande as ny the
As I dide evere." And thus his pacience
And meeknesse hath qwenchid al this offense.
Salomon seith, in him is sapience
That is endowid with benigne humblesse.
Grace of the Holy Goost no residence
Holdith in that man that lakkith meeknesse.
God took upon Him humble buxumnesse
Whan He Him wrappid in our mortel rynde:
That oghte a mirour be to al mankynde.
Plesant to God was the virginitee
Of His modir, but verray God and man
Conceyved was thurgh the humilitee
Which He byheeld in that blessid womman.
O humble maide, who is it that can
The debonaire humblesse tellen al
Restynge in thy clennesse virginal?
Thogh that the humble were a foul habyt,
Yit in vertues glorious is he;
But the prowd man stant in anothir plyt;
Thogh his array be fair and fressh to se,
His deedes and his werkis foule be.
What hy estat that a man represente,
Humble to be let him sette his entente.
Humilitee verray, as seith Cesarie,
May nevere be withouten charitee,
And shee is a vertu moost necessarie;
Amonges alle vertues that be,
Shee on hem alle obteeneth dignitee.
They fro the regne of God hemself dyvyde
That charitee weyven and caste asyde.
Right as a man ne may nat thidir go
Where he purposith him but if a way
Be thidirward, Seint Anselm seith, right so
Withouten charitee men go ne may
Aright unto Godward; men mowen ay
Doon as hem list if they been charitable,
But lakkynge it, is nothyng profitable.
Oonly keepyng of charitee us preeveth
That we disciples been of God almighty.
What thyng it be that harmeth man or greeveth,
By goodnesse overcome it paciently.
No seint to hevene cometh, as rede I,
But by keepyng of pacience; and how
Men may it leere wole I shewe yow.
Take heede how, whan that Cryst our Sauveour
Was bobbid and His visage al byspet,
And greet despyt doon Him and deshonour,
Bownden and scourgid and grevously bet,
Crowned with thorn, nayled to the gibet;
Yit for al this torment, no word He speek,
So was He pacient, benigne, and meek.
And syn our lord God was of swich souffrance,
Thanne is it to his creature shame
On greef to him doon take any vengeance.
Man oghte rather sorwe for the blame
That God shal konne him that hath doon the grame
Than for the harm that the greeved hath hent;
So dooth the charitable and pacient.
De castitate
To chastitee purpose y now to haaste,
Which covenable is and convenient
Unto a kyng for to savoure and taaste.
What prince that with unclennesse is brent,
And therin settith his lust and talent,
No parfyt dede or werk him folwe may.
Mochil is herte chaast to Goddes pay.
Right as the persone of a prince outward
Honured is with clothes precious,
So oghte his herte clothid been inward
With vertu, and him kythe vertuous.
Fressh apparaille and herte leccherous
Unsittyngly been in a prince joynt -
Namely in a Cristen kyng enoynt.
In as mochil as dignitee of kyng
Excedith othir folk in reverence,
The more him oghte peyne him, lest al thyng
Othir folk passe in vertuous excellence.
Honour nat elles is in existence
Than reverence geven in witnesse
Of vertu, as the scriptures expresse.
Honour which was goten vertuously
Ne was nat first by dignitee purchaced,
As that Boece tellith expressly,
But dignitees honour was embraced
With vertu; dignitee had been unlaced
And ungirt of honour nad vertu be,
For vertu hath hir propre dignitee.
Aristotle conseillid Alisaundre
To leccherie he nat enclyne sholde,
For it is hogges lyf, which were esclaundre
To him if he tho weyes take wolde
That beestes resonlees usen and holde;
For of body it is destruccioun,
And eek of al vertu corrupcioun.
Syn they that nat were of Cristen bapteeme
Conseillid men eschue leccherie,
Than oghte us Cristen men that vice fleeme
And swiche lustes in us mortifie.
Whoso entendith into blisse stye,
That fyry sparcle algate he muste qwenche
And lustes leve of lady and of wenche.
The Scripture seith, no fornicatour
The regne of Cryst and God shal enherite;
It seith eek that him and the advoutour
God deeme shal; He can hir labour qwyte
Ful sharply that in tho tweyne delyte;
And so He wole but correccioun
Be mannes sheeld and his proteccioun.
Affrican Scipio, that noble knyght,
Whan he was twenti yeer and four of age,
And by prowesse and by manhode and might
Cartagiens put hadde into servage,
Ther was a mayde sent him in hostage,
Of yeeres rype ynow, and of beautee
Moost excellent that men mighte owhere see.
And whan this worthy yong prince honurable
This womman sy, of here he took good yeeme,
Thynkynge that shee was of beautee able
The worthyeste on lyve for to qweeme,
And in him multiplied thoghtes breeme.
But nathelees, for al his bysy thoght,
Enquere he gan if shee wyf were or noght.
Shee trouthid was to Judibal, men seide,
A lord of that citee; and Scipio
On a ministre of his the charge leide
For hir fadir and modir blyve go.
They at his heeste cam unto him tho,
And in hir clene virginal estat
Restored he this maide inviolat.
The gold eek that for hir redempcioun
Purveied was, forgaf he uttirly,
In help and encrees and promocioun
Of hir wedlok; and whan Judibal sy
And kneew how Scipio thus noblely
Demened him, he was ful wel apayed
Of that he grucchid first and was affrayed.
He wente unto th'estates of the toun
And tolde hem al the cas as it befil;
And they this lord gaf laude and hy renoun
For that; and alle with oon herte and wil
Submittid hem to this prince gentil.
Thus herte chaast and tendre gentillesse
Conquereth hertes rather than duresse.
Or Marcus Marcellus had the citee
Of Ciracuse taken or ynome,
He leet do crye amonges his meynee
That, whan the citee he had overcome
And his folk therin entred were and come,
Noon be so hardy the wommen oppresse,
Ne touche hem by no way of unclennesse.
Ther was also a seemly, fressh yong man
To whom nature swich favour had lent
Of shap and beautee, that ther nas womman
That ones had a look on him despent
But that hir herte gaf flesshly consent;
And nathelees, eschued he the taast
Of unclennesse and kepte his body chaast.
By toknes kneew he hir unclene entente,
And with his nayles cracchid he his face,
And scocchid it with knyves and torente,
And it so wondirfully gan difface
That his beautee refusid hadde hir place.
Al this dide he hir hertes to remue
From him and make hem unclennesse eschue.
Jerom tellith ageyn Jovynyan,
A fair womman, a mayde clept Ulie,
Yweddid was unto an aged man,
A Romayn smiten with the palesie;
But shee in chastitee was set so hie
That an ensaumple verraily was shee
To alle tho that loved chastitee.
Hir housbonde herde ones an enemy
Which that he hadde, speke in his repreef,
That his breeth stank as that he stood him by;
Wherof he took greet hevynesse and greef.
He gooth hoom to his wyf and this mescheef
Ful hevyly to hir he gan conpleyne,
And thus of hire he gan to axe and freyne:
"Why wyf," quod he, "han yee nat, or this tyme,
Ywarned me how that it with me stood?"
"Sire, it was nat," quod shee, "espied by me.
I heeld your breeth ay also soote and good
As othir mennes been; I undirstood
Noon othir ne yit do, in soothfastnesse."
Ful fewe men had shee kist, as I gesse!
Shee hyly was to preise and to commende,
That nat ne kneew by othir mennes mowthis
Hir makes vice; it was al wel shee wende.
To fynde many swiche ful unkouthe is:
Lat us awayte wel whan the wynd south is
And north at ones, blowynge on the sky,
And fynde swich an heep than hardily.
Plato his patrimoyne and his contree
Lefte and forsook and dwelte in wyldernesse
For to restreyne flesshly nycetee;
And his disciples loved so clennesse,
And for to fallen hadden swich gastnesse,
Hir yen they out of hir heedes brente
Lest sighte of hem spotte mighte hir entente.
Demostenes his handes ones putte
In a wommannes bosom japyngly,
Of face fair but of hir body a slutte.
"With yow to dele," seide he, "what shal I
Yow geve?" "Fourty pens," quod shee, "soothly."
He seide nay, so deere he bye nolde
A thyng for which that him repente sholde.
I fynde how two doghtres of a duchesse,
The flesshly touches of men for to flee
Whan men of Ungarie hem wolde oppresse,
In conservynge of hir virginitee,
They hem purveied a good sotiltee:
They chekenes flessh putte undirnethe hir pappes,
Hem to deffende from unclenly happes.
Beholde of wommen heer a noble wyle.
In short avisament, who can do bet?
By that this flessh thus hadde leyn a whyle
And that it was ychaufed wel and het,
It stank so foule that it hath ylet
Tho men, that weery they were of hir pray
And forsook the wommen and wente hir way.
O wommanhode! In thee regneth vertu
So excellent that to feeble is my wit
To expresse it, wherfore I am eschu
To medle or make a long sermoun of it.
Sum mannes mowth yit wolde I were yshit
That vice of wommen sparith nat bywreye,
For alle soothes been nat for to seye.
But for to talke foorth of continence
Or chastitee: whoso chaast lyve shal
Moot scourge his flesshly lust with abstinence;
Thriste him adoun, geve him no place at al.
Metes and drynkes make a soule thral
If the body be reuled by excesse;
Forthy it needith take of hem the lesse.
Excesse of mete and drynke is wombes freend,
And wombe is next to our membres pryvee.
Glotonye is ful plesant to the feend;
To leccherie redy path is shee.
The feend lyth in awayt of our freeltee
And stireth man to drynkes delicat
To make ageynes chastitee debat.
A man sholde ete and drynke in swich a wyse
As may be to his helthes susteenynge,
Aftir the doctrine of Senek the wyse.
Sum man drynkith the wyn to his weenynge
Whan he drynkith his wit. More is preysynge
And honurable a man conpleyne on thrist
Than dronken be whan he the cuppe hath kist.
Thus seide Jerom unto a virgyne:
"O doghtir, syn th'apostle sore dredde
Lust of his flessh and dide his body pyne
And heeld it lowe and symplely it fedde,
Wherthurgh the vice of unclennesse he fledde,
Of continence how maistow sikir be
Of foode delicat that hast plentee,
"And specially now in thy youthes hete?"
For whoso wilneth to be continent,
Many a lust superflu moot he lete
And likerous; by mesure his talent
Mesure he moot. Whan reson is regent
Of man, than regneth no delicacie;
Reson a man deffendith fro folie.
The wynes delicat and sweete and stronge
Causen ful many an inconvenience;
If that a man outrageously hem fonge,
They birien wit and forbeeden silence
Of conseil; they outrayen pacience;
They kyndlen ire and fyren leccherie,
And causen bothe body and soule die.
And trewely, it is ful perillous
Unto a prince which that hath a land
In governance, in that be vicious;
It needith him take heede unto his hand
That that vice him encombre nat; for and
It do, he shal nat regne but a throwe.
Ful many a man hath excesse overthrowe.
Of Babiloyne the kyng Baltasar
Nat hadde been ypryved of his lyf
If he of dronkenesse hadde be war;
But for that he therin was deffectyf,
It of his deeth was verray causatyf;
By nyghtirtale he slayn was by Kyng Darie;
Thus paith glotoun excesse hir salarie.
Thurgh dronkenesse how took his deeth Nabal
And how slow Tholomé also Symoun?
Allas, that drynke so man serve shal!
How leide Lothes doghtres hem adoun
By hir fadir? Whan his discrecioun
Was dreynt with wyn, he with hem flesshly delte,
And therof nothyng ne wiste ne felte.
How was eek Oloferne by Judith
The womman slayn but thurgh his dronkenesse?
What prince it be that spottid is therwith,
His welthe hath but a brotil stablenesse.
Of swiche stories mo wolde I expresse,
But for I nat ne can, I lete hem passe;
I am as lewde and dul as is an asse.
With litil foode content is nature,
And bet the body farith with a lyte
Than whan it charged is out of mesure.
Looke what thyng may the body profyte
And the soule in the same shal delyte;
What thyng that it distemprith and disesith,
The soule it hurtith, for it God displesith.
Wratthe the body of man inward fretith,
And God therwith displesid is ful sore;
Envye also of God and man hir getith
Lyk thank and ese and shal do everemore;
And leccherie, as techith smertes lore,
The body waastith and the soule greeveth,
And foode delicat therto man meeveth.
Beholde also, whan that the paunche is ful,
A fume clymbith up into the heed
And makith a man al lustlees and dul;
He wexith hevy as a pece of leed.
Whoso that thanne wolde geve him reed
To looke in a book of devocioun,
I trowe in ydil were his mocioun.
But consaille him to trotte unto the wyn
And, for al his excesse and his outrage,
He therto wole assente wel afyn,
And there wole he outen his langage,
And do to Bachus and Venus homage,
For noon of hem two can be wel from othir;
They love as wel as dooth suster and brothir.
And aftir moot he rowne with a pilwe
His lyflees resons there to despende.
We beestes resonable, allas, why wole we
Ageyn resoun werreye and hir offende?
O goode God, Thy grace to us sende
That we may flee swich superfluitee
And al thyng that is fo to chastitee.
De regis magnanimitate
Of magnanimitee now wole I trete,
That is to seyn, strong herte or greet corage
Which in knyghthode hath stablisshid hir sete.
Yee, gracious Prince, of blood and of lynage
Descendid been to have it in usage.
Mars hath been ay freend to your worthy lyne;
Yee moot of kynde to manhode enclyne.
He that is strong of corage and of herte,
If he lordshipes have or greet richesse,
Or that Fortunes styng him overthwerte,
Is alway oon in welthe and in distresse;
He lucre and los weyeth in evennesse;
He settith litil by good temporel;
How the world shape, he takith it ay wel.
But for to speke of corage of a kyng,
He of his peple owith be so cheer
That hir profyt he moot for anythyng
Promote with his might and his poweer;
And for his reme and hem, take him so neer
That unto the perilles of bataille
He moot him putte, and in hem travaille,
And in deffense of Holy Chirche also,
And for our feith putte him in jupartie;
Othir causes been ther but fewe mo
Why a kyng oghte to bataille him hye
And in tho causes drede him nat to dye,
But kythe him a good knyght among his foos -
Thus wonne is magnanimitees loos.
Right as we seen by reson and nature
Part of mannes body deffendith al,
As an arm puttith him in aventure
For the body that nat perisshe it shal,
Right so a kynges cheertee special,
If he God love and his peple and his land,
Whan neede is, moot deffende hem with his hand.
Thurgh grete emprises wonne is hy renoun;
Renoun is callid glorie and honour.
Magnanimus hath this condicioun,
That in bataille, how sharp that be the stour,
Him lever is to suffre dethes shour
Than cowardly and shamefully flee,
So manly of corage and herte is he.
He medleth nevere but of thynges grete
And hye and vertuous; he nevere is meeved
With smale thynges, as the bookes trete;
And swich a drede hath for to be repreeved
That, unto thyng that may be knowe or preeved
For villenous or foul or repreevable,
He nevere obeyeth, this knyght honurable.
I have yred of oon clept Coadrus
That was prince of the oost of Athenyens,
How in the feeld a lawe maad was thus
Twixt his oost and hem of Polipolens:
With triumphe sholde that part go thens
Whos duc or prince were unarmed slaw
In habyt strange - lo! swich was the lawe.
Him lever was himselven for to dye
And his men lyve, than see hem bystad
So streite that by violent maistrie
His foos hadde hem venquissht or overlad.
Adayes now is noon swich cheertee had;
Algates I ne can nat seen it usid;
Knyghtes been looth therof to been accusid.
O worthy Prince, I truste in your manhode
Medled with prudence and discrecioun,
That yee shul make many a knyghtly rode
And the pryde of oure foos thristen adoun.
Manhode and wit conqueren hy renoun,
And whoso lakkith outhir of the tweyne
Of armes wantith the brydil and reyne.
Or the ordre of knyghthode be receyved,
Ful needful is a man to be prudent,
Elles that oost may lightly be deceyved
That is unto his governance ybent.
Presumpcioun is disobedient
Alday and by wysdam nat wole him gye;
Al justifieth his obstinacie.
Ofte in batailles hath be seen or this
A syde souffred hath disconfiture
Which an unwys heed gyed hath amis.
What knyght on him takith that charge or cure,
If he in knyghtly honour shal endure,
Him oghte endowid been of sapience,
And have in armes greet experience.
Experience and art in a bataille,
Of the prudent knyght, more may profyte
Than hardynesse or force may availle
Of him that therof knowith naght or lyte.
Hardynesse in effect nat worth a myte
Is to victorious conclusioun,
But with him medle aart, wit, and resoun.
Whan reuled wit and manly hardynesse
Been knyt togidere as yok of mariage,
Ther folwith of victorie the swetnesse;
For to sette on him whettith his corage,
And wit restreyne his wil can and asswage
In tyme due and in covenable;
And thus tho two joynt been ful profitable.
But be a knyght wys or corageous,
Or have hem bothe at ones at his lust,
If that his herte of good be desyrous,
On his manhode is ther but lytil trust.
God graunte knyghtes rubbe away the rust
Of covetyse if it hir hertes cancre,
And graunte hem picche in souffissance hir ancre.
Quod rex non [de]bet felicitatem suam ponere in divitiis
Now for as moche as magnanimitee
May no foot holde if that the herte of man
Greetly unto richesse enclyned be,
Than is the beste reed that I see can,
A kyng therein delyte him nat; for whan
His herte is in that vice ficchid hye,
Smal prowesse in him wole it signifie.
And if a kynges honour shal be qweynt
With a foul and a wrecchid covetyse,
His peples trust in him shal be ful feynt;
A kyng may nat governe him in that wyse.
The coveitous may do no greet empryse,
For whan his herte lurkith in his cofre,
His body to bataille he dar nat profre.
If that a kyng sette his felicitee
Principally on richesse and moneye,
His peple it torneth to adversitee,
For he ne rekkith in what wyse or weye
He pile hem. Allas, that kynges nobleye
Torne sholde into style of tirannye!
Allas the peril, harm, and vilenye!
God I byseeche your herte enlumyne,
Gracious Prince, that the feend our fo
No power have so your herte myne,
But of His grace keepe yow therfro,
And graunte yow to governe yow so
As moost holsum is for body and soule;
That desyre I, by God and by Seint Poule.
Whan that Marcus Curcius, a Romeyn,
Unto the Beneventans seege leide,
For he was poore, as that they herde seyn,
They a greet somme of gold him sente and preide
Withdrawe his seege; and he answerde and seide:
"To hem retorneth that yow hidir sente
And thus to hem declarith myn entente:
"Seye hem, Marcus Curcius lever is
Ryche men have at his commandement
Than to be ryche himself - fortelle hem this;
He may with gold nat be corrupt ne blent.
Of force of men eek they been inpotent
To venquisshe him, for there hir aart shal faille;
Hir blynde profers shal hem nat availle."
To Alisaundre, as I shal tellen heere,
A knyght which was unto him special
Thus spak and blamed him in this maneere:
He seide, "If oure goddes thy body smal
To thy greedy desir had maad egal,
Al the world hadde nat be souffissant
To han receyved so large a geant;
"For with thy right hond thow the orient
Sholdest han touchid - I am seur of that,
And with thy lyft hond eek the occident.
Now syn that thy body answerith nat
Unto thy wil, what may I seye, what?
Outhir thow art a man, or god, or noght;
Mochil of thee mervaille I in my thoght.
"If thow be god, thow folwe muste his trace
And nat men of hir good robbe or byreve,
But hem releeve and do hem ese and grace;
If thow be man, considere eek, by thy leeve,
Thow art mortel - thow maist be deed or eeve.
If thow be nothyng, thee putte out of mynde
As he that is of no nature or kynde.
"Ther is noon hy estat so sad and stable,
Remembre wel, let it nat be forgete,
But he to falle in peril is ful able.
By deeth a leon maad is briddes mete,
And beestes also his flessh gnawe and frete."
The answere of the kyng nat have I herd;
My book nat tellith how he was answerd.
Senek seith, the poore Diogenes
Kyng Alisaundre in richesse paste,
For he ne mighte, as he seith doutelees,
Geve him so mochil gold ne on him caste
As he refuse wolde. O, at the laste
Men thynke shuln they to mochil han had,
And of this worldes muk be ful unglad.
Desyr of good a kyng moot leye apaart
And peyne him to purchace him a good fame;
Therin lat him laboure and doon his aart;
Ther is nothyng unto a worthy name.
And if a kyng it lakke, it were his shame,
And shame is contrarie unto worthynesse;
Good loos disserved is grettest richesse.
And for largesse wynneth good renoun,
Thereof now thynke I trete a litil stownde.
A prince and kyng of al a regioun
Moot avarice thriste adoun to grownde.
To him that lyth in helle deepe ybownde,
Thee, avarice, bytake I to keepe.
Thow pynepeny, there ay moot thow sleepe!
 O fals enprisonere!
Largesse wolde be with sheeld and spere
Evene in thy berd if he brak out tomorwe,
And for his sake do thee care and sorwe.
Thow to largesse doost ful mochil wrong
That hast hir servant undir thy servage;
On thee and nat on hire is it along
That gold is let to goon on hir message.
Shee hath him sent in many a viage
Or this, and that was the commun profyt,
The which to lette is evere thy delyt.
Largesse oonly nat list gold servant be
Unto hirself, but the peple shee wolde
Hadde as good part of hir service as she.
To hire is al the commun peple yholde,
But thow makist the peples hertes colde;
Thow sleest an heep which that shee wolde save;
Thow no wight helpist thogh he thyn help crave.
Me list no more speke of thee this tyme,
But of myn helply lady sovereyne,
Largesse, my lady, now wole I ryme;
And aftirward, of thy cursid careyne
I speke shal; nat o word wole I feyne,
But as scriptures treten of thee, wrecche,
I touche shal - the feend thee hennes fecche!
De virtute largitatis et de vitio prodigalitatis
Aristotle of largesse tellith this:
Who vertuously large list to be,
Considere first of what power he is
And eek the tymes of necessitee,
And as the men disserven, so be free;
Geve in mesure unto the indigent
And the worthy, and that is wel despent;
And who dooth othirwyse in his gevynge
Largesses reule passith and excedith;
He neithir worthy is thank ne preysynge
That to him that no neede hath giftes bedith.
Of verray folie also it procedith
To geve the unworthy, for that cost
Al misdespendid is, for it is lost.
And he that despendith out of mesure
Shal taaste anoon povertes bittirnesse;
Fool largesse is therto a verray lure.
Of him also he berith the liknesse
That on himself, as the book can witnesse,
Victorie geveth to his enemys;
And he that so despendith is nat wys.
Largesse stant nat in mochil gevynge,
But it is aftir the wil and the might
Of him that geveth aftir his havynge;
For it may sumtyme happe that a wight
Which of richesse berith nat but light
Geveth but smal and yit largere is he
Than he that geveth gretter quantitee.
Aftir his good man may geve and despende
Whereas neede is, but he that al despendith
And waastith shal himselven first offende;
Fool largesse alday wrecchidly endith.
Many a man hir foul outrage shendith;
But of largesse is good the governance;
Bothe to God and man it is plesance.
Evene as a mannes blood is norisshynge
To his body if it corrupt nat be,
So been richesses to soules feedynge
Holsum if they, whereas necessitee
Axith, despent been, and also if he
Which that hem wan, gat hem with rightwisnesse;
For hevene and helle is gote by richesse.
A crookid hors nevere is the bet entecchid
Althogh his brydil glistre of gold and shyne;
Right so a man that vicious is and wrecchid,
And his richesses gote hath of rapyne,
And also evele as man can ymagyne,
Despendith hem, nat for hem the bet is,
But mochil wers; good is take heede of this.
He that his flessh despendith and his blood,
My Lord, in your service, him giftes beede;
There is largesse mesurable good.
A kyng so bownde is, he moot do so neede.
Service unqwit and murdre, it is no dreede,
As clerkes writen, and desheritance,
Byfore almighty God axen vengeance.
Of fool largesse wole I talke a space,
How it befil, y not in what contree,
But ther was oon named John of Canace,
A ryche man, and two doghtres had he,
That to two worthy men of a citee
He wedde leet, and there was gladnesse
And revel more than I can expresse.
The fadir his doghtres and hir housbondes
Loved ful wel and hadde hem leef and deere;
Tyme to tyme he gaf hem with his hondes
Of his good passyngly, and they swich cheere
Him made and were of so plesant maneere
That he ne wiste how be bettre at ese,
They cowden him so wel cherice and plese;
For he as mochil hauntid in partie
Hir hous as that he dide his owne hous.
They heeld him up so with hir flaterie
That of despenses he was outrageous,
And of his good they were ay desirous.
Al that they axid hadden they reedy;
They evere weren upon him greedy.
This sely man continued his outrage
Til al his goode was disshid and goon;
And whan they felte his despenses asswage,
They wax unkynde unto him anoon,
For aftir had he cherisshynge noon.
They weery weren of his conpaignie;
And he was wys and shoop a remedie.
He to a marchant gooth of his notice
Which that his trusty freend had been ful yore,
Byseechynge him that he wolde him chevice
Of ten thousand pound no lenger ne more
Than dayes thre, and he wolde it restore
At his day. This was doon; the somme he hente
And to his owne hous therwith he wente.
And on the morwe preide he to souper
His sones bothe and his doghtres also;
They to him cam withoute any daungere.
How that they ferden, lat I passe and go;
They ferden wel, withouten wordes mo.
To his konnynge he greet desport hem made;
He dide his might to cheere hem and to glade.
Aftir souper, whan they hir tyme sy,
They took hir leeve and hoom they wolde algate;
And he answerde and seide hem sikirly:
"This nyght yee shul nat passe out of the gate;
Your hous is fer and it is dirk and late;
Nevene it nat for it shal nat betyde."
And so al nyght he made hem for to abyde.
The fadir logged hem of sly purpoos
In a chambre next unto his joynynge,
For betwixt hem nas ther but a parcloos
Of bord nat but of an hoomly makynge,
Thurghout the which at many a chynnynge
In eche chambre they mighten beholde
And see what othir diden if they wolde.
I can nat seyn how they slepten that nyght,
Also it longith nat to my mateere;
But on the morwe at the brood day light
The fadir roos, and for they sholden heere
What that he dide, in a boistous maneere
Unto his chiste, which thre lokkes hadde,
He wente, and thereat wrythed he ful sadde.
And whan it was yopned and unshit,
The baggid gold by the marchant him lent
He hath uncofred, and streight foorth with it
Unto his beddes feet goon is and went.
What dooth thanne this fel man and prudent
But out this gold on a tapyt hath shot,
That in the bagges lefte ther no grot.
And al this dide he nat but for a wyle,
As that yee shul wel knowen aftirward;
He shoop his sones and doghtres begyle.
His noyse made hem dressen hem upward;
They caste hir eres to his chambreward
And herde of gold the russhynge and the soun
As that he rudely threew hem adoun;
And to the parcloos they hem haaste and hye
To wite and knowe what hir fadir wroghte.
In at the chynes of the bord they prye
And sy how he among the nobles soghte
If deffectyf were any, as hem thoghte.
And on his nayle he threew hem ofte and caste,
And bagged hem and cofred at the laste;
And opneth his dore and doun gooth his wey.
And aftir blyve out of hir bed they ryse
And cam doun eek. Hir fadir thanken they
Of his good cheere in hire beste wyse -
And al was for the goldes covetyse;
And to goon hoom they axen of him leve;
They been departed and they there him leve.
Walkynge homward, they janglid faste and speek
Of the gold which they sy hir fadir have.
Oon seide, "I wondre theron;" "And I eek,"
Quod anothir, "for also God me save,
Yistirday, thogh I sholde into my grave
Han crept, I durste on it han leid my lyf
That gold with him nat hadde be so ryf."
Now lat hem muse on that what so hem liste,
And to hir fadir now wole I me dresse.
He al this gold takith out of his chiste
And to the marchant paide it more and lesse,
Thankynge him often of his kyndenesse;
And thennes gooth he hoom unto his mete,
And to his sones hous whan he hadde ete.
Whan he cam thidir, they made of him more
Than that they weren wont by many fold;
So greet desport they made him nat ful yore.
"Fadir," quod they, "this is your owne houshold;
In feith ther is nothyng withynne oure hold
But it shal be at your commandement.
Wolde God that yee were of oure assent;
"Thanne we sholden ay togidere dwelle."
Al what they menten wiste he wel ynow.
"Sones and doghtres," quod he, "sooth to telle,
My wil is good also to be with yow -
How sholde I meryer be nat woot I how
Than with yow for to be continuel ?
Your conpaignie lykith me ful wel."
Now shoop it so they heeld hous alle in feere
Sauf the fadir, and as they lowgh and pleide,
His doghtres bothe with lawhynge cheere
Unto hir fadir spak and thus they seide,
And to assoille hir question, him preide:
"Now, goode fadir, how mochil moneye
In your strong bownden chiste is, we yow preye?"
"Ten thousand pounde," he seide, and lyed lowde;
"I tolde hem," quod he, "nat ful longe ago,
And that as redily as that I cowde.
If yee wole aftir this do to me so
As yee han doon beforn, thanne alle tho
I in my testament dispose shal
For your profyt - youres it shal been al."
Aftir this day they alle in oon hous were
Til the day cam of the fadres dyynge.
Good mete and drynke and clothes for to were
He hadde and paide naght to his endynge.
Whan he sy the tyme of his departynge,
His sones and his doghtres dide he calle
And in this wyse he spak unto hem alle:
"Nat purpose I make othir testament
But of that is in my strong chiste bownde;
And right anoon, or I be hennes hent,
An hundred pounde of nobles goode and rownde
Takith to prechours - tarieth it no stownde;
An hundred pounde eek to the freeres greye,
And Carmes fifty - tarie it nat, I seye.
"And whan I biried am, of hem the keyes
Of my chiste takith, for they hem keepe.
By every keye writen been the weyes
Of my wil." This gold was nat suffred sleepe.
It was anoon dalt, for hir hertes deepe
Stak in his bownden cofre, and al hir hope
Was goode bagges therin for to grope.
To every chirche and reclus of the toun
Bad hem eek of gold geve a quantitee.
Al as he bad they weren prest and boun
And dide it blyve; but so moot I thee,
Ful slyly he deceyved this meynee -
His sones and his doghtres bothe, I meene;
Hir berdes shaved he right smoothe and cleene.
Whan he was deed and his exequies do,
Solempnely they to the freres yide
And bad tho keyes delivre hem unto;
And as that they hem beden, so they dide.
Tho joieful sones dresse hem to the stide
Whereas this stronge bownden chiste stood,
But or they twynned thens they pekkid mood.
They opneden the chiste and fond right noght
But a passyngly greet sergeantes mace
In which ther gayly maad was and ywroght
This same scripture: "I, John of Canace,
Make swich testament heere in this place:
Who berith charge of othir men and is
Of hem despysid, slayn be he with this."
Amonges folies alle is noon, I leeve,
More than man his good ful largely
Despende in hope men wole him releeve
Whan his good is despendid uttirly;
The indigent men setten nothyng by.
I, Hoccleve, in swich cas am gilty; this me touchith.
So seith povert, which on fool large him vouchith.
For thogh I nevere were of hy degree,
Ne hadde mochil good ne greet richesse,
Yit hath the vice of prodigalitee
Smerted me sore and doon me hevynesse.
He that but lytil hath may doon excesse
In his degree as wel as may the ryche,
Thogh hir despenses weye nat ylyche.
So have I plukkid at my purses strynges
And maad hem ofte for to gape and gane
That his smal stuf hath take him to his wynges,
And hath ysworn to be my welthes bane
But if releef away my sorwe plane;
And whens it come shal, can I nat gesse,
My Lord, but it proceede of your hynesse.
I me repente of my misreuled lyf;
Wherfore, in the way of sauvacioun
I hope I be; my dotage excessyf
Hath put me to swich castigacioun
That indigence hath dominacioun
On me. O, hadde I help now, wolde I thryve;
And so ne dide I nevere yit my lyve.
My yeerly guerdoun, myn annuitee,
That was me grauntid for my long labour,
Is al behynde - I may nat payed be;
Which causith me to lyven in langour.
O, liberal Prince, ensample of honour,
Unto your grace lyke it to promoote
My poore estat, and to my wo beeth boote.
And worthy Prince, at Crystes reverence,
Herkneth what I shal seyn and beeth nat greeved,
But lat me stande in your benevolence;
For if myn hertes wil wist were and preeved
How yow to love it stired is and meeved,
Yee sholden knowe I your honour and welthe
Thriste and desyre, and eek your soules helthe.
In al my book yee shul nat see ne fynde
That I youre deedes lakke or hem dispreise;
But for I wolde that yee hadde in mynde
Swich thyng as your renoun mighte up areise,
I wryte as my symple conceit may peise.
And trustith wel, al that my penne seith
Procedith of good herte and treewe in feith.
What kyng that dooth more excessyf despenses
Than his land may to souffyse or atteyne
Shal be destroyed aftir the sentences
Of Aristotle; he shal nat flee the peyne.
Fool largesse and avarice, tho tweyne,
If that a kyng eschue and large be,
Rejoise he shal his real dignitee.
How fool largesse a kyng destroye may
As blyve wole I unto yow declare:
Fool largesse geveth so moche away
That it the kynges cofres makith bare,
And thanne awakith poore peples care,
For al that shee despendid hath and waastid
They moot releeve - therto been they haastid.
The tylere with his poore cote and land
That may unnethes gete his sustenance,
And he that naght hath but labour of hand,
Been ofte put unto ful smert nusance.
Good is be waar of Goddes long souffrance;
Thogh he to venge him tarie and be souffrable,
Whan his strook cometh, it is importable.
Nat speke I ageyn eides uttirly -
In sum cas they been good and necessarie;
But whan they goon to custumablely,
The peple it makith for to curse and warie;
And if they been despendid in contrarie
Of that they grauntid of the peple were,
The more grucchen they the cost to bere.
The pot so longe to the watir gooth
That hoom it cometh at the laste ybroke;
Whan that the peple with a cheere looth
Hir purs yemptid have and eek hir poke,
Hem thynkith that they over ny been soke.
What harm of that to kynges hath betid,
Scriptures tellen - it may nat been hid.
But Favel nat reportith tho scriptures;
His lordes soules salve he from him hydith;
He bisyeth him so in sly portraytures
That hoomly trouthe nat with him abydith;
The sweete venym of his tonge gydith
His lord unto the valeye of dirknesse
If he governe him by his fikilnesse.
The treewe man, if he may apparceyve
A deffaute in his lord, as othirwhyle
It happith, he his lord it redith weyve
And bit him to vertu him reconsyle.
And yit Favel, the net of fraude and gyle,
The thank hath, and that othir the maugree -
O God, that verray trouthe art for to see!
Who that for drede of any lord or sire
Hydeth the trouthe and nat wole it out seye,
He upon him provokith Goddes ire
For that he more of man than God hath ye.
They that the trouthe of hir hertes bywreye
To lordes and telle hem hir wikkid lyf,
No grace in hem fynden for hir motyf.
But bet for trouthe is to suffre torment
Than richely enhaunced be for glose.
If this lyf heere be nat wel despent,
I woot it wel, I wole it nat suppose,
God wole his regne from us shitte and close.
Heer is the weye to peyne or to blisse;
Whoso wel dooth, of joie he may nat misse.
Eternel God, the blessid Trinitee,
Which that every man of Cristen byleeve
Knowith an undyvydid unitee,
His mercy and his grace kythe and preeve
In yow, my Lord, that so your deedes cheeve
As that your soule, aftir this lyf present,
To hevene blisse up may be take and hent.
De vitio avaritie
Now gawe to the avaricious,
To whom noon habundance may souffyse;
A chynche nevere can be plentevous
Thogh al were his - swich is his covetyse;
To thriste ay aftir more it is his gyse;
He is the swolwe that is nevere ful.
At avarice now have heer a pul!
Shee may, as God forbeede, undo a kyng
Thurgh hir insaciable greedynesse;
Hir herte is set upon noon othir thyng
But how shee may gold hepe. Al in dirknesse
Lurkith the purchas of hir egrenesse;
In bagges undir lok hir gold shee thristith;
Al to the cofre it gooth and al shee chistith.
There is it hid, no sonne it seeth ne moone;
Thogh al the world sterve sholde on a day
For lak of good, nat were it for to doone
To borwe of here; evere is hir answere "Nay!"
That shee naght hath also shee swerith ay.
Hir nature is to keepe and nat despende,
And hir desyr of good ne hath noon ende.
Avarice is a love inmoderat
Richesses temporel for to purchace;
Shee bisyeth hire in everiche estat;
Shee shapith hire, al the world embrace;
Fro the more to the lesse hir trace
To sue studien men, seith Isaye;
And shee the thraldom is of maumetrie.
Shee is a covetyse excessyf
Of othres good, and of hir owne shee
So streit and hard is and so retentyf
That it profyte may in no degree.
O, avaricious, what eilith thee?
The goodes whiche been unto thee lent
Why hydest thow? Ywis, thow wilt be shent.
Weenest thow that thow doost nat wikkidly
That so many a mannes sustenance
Thyself withholdist soul? Yis, hardily,
Thow that of richesse hast greet habundance
And to the needy gevest no pitance,
No lesse offendist thow than he that shakith
Men out of hir good and from hem it takith.
Thus may thy style likned be to thefte:
As a theef in this world is hangid heere
For good which that he of the peple refte,
So shalt thow hange in helle and bye it deere,
But if so be, or thow go to thy beere,
Thow correcte thy greedy appetyt
And of streit keepyng empte thy delyt.
The breed of hungry peple thow withholdist
And shittist up the nakid mennes clooth
That kevere hem sholde. If thow aght of God toldist,
For to do so thow woldest be ful looth.
Al that thow getist, to hid place it gooth;
As many men hir good thow hem byrevest
As thow releeve mightist and it levest.
Whoso that fro the poore mannes cry
Stoppith his eres thogh he lowde crye,
Shal nat be herd; and moreover, rede y,
His dayes shul encrece and multiplye
That avarice hatith - this is no lye.
Werse is nothyng than to love moneye,
As that Ecclesiasticus can seye.
Ambrose seith, "Waar man that thow ne shitte
Withyn thy purs the needy peples hele,
And to the burielles nat committe
The lyf of poore men. "Geve hem and dele
Part of thy good. O, thy bagges unsele;
Opne hem - hir knyttyng al to sore annoyeth;
Thy pyned stuf many a man destroyeth.
Thow seist par cas, "If I no man byreve
His good, what wrong myn owne is it to hyde
And multiplie?" O chynche! By thy leve,
What seist thow is thyn? What was thyn that tyde
Thow cam into this world, thow homicyde?
Thow broghtest naght; clayme no propretee
Of thyng that oghte commune to bee.
Thy talkyng and thy clap is al of eerthe,
And the grownd forthy shal answere thee
For that the love of muk sittith so neer the.

By what title that thow getist thy good,
Thow countest nat the value of a myte;
Thyn herte is everemore on gold so wood
That in nothyng elles canst thow delyte;
Of conscience rekkist thow so lyte,
What goodes that thow getist of rapyne,
Thow hem affermest by good title thyne.
Feith and prowesse leyst thow undir foote
And techist folk to have in hemself pryde,
And crueltee hath caght in thee swich roote
That shee nat slippe may fro thee ne slyde,
And every vertu throwist thow asyde.
O, every prince or kyng moot been eschu,
In al maneere, of thy lym and thy glu.
For elles it is light to undirstonde
To every man that wit can and resoun,
It is nat likly a kyng for to stonde
In his welthe but a litil sesoun;
For avarice may been enchesoun
His peple to destroien and oppresse,
And, as I seide, so may fool largesse.
Fool largesse is a seeknesse curable
Outhir of indigence or elles age.
He that fool large in youthe is, is ful able
In elde to abate it and asswage;
For agid folk been more in the servage
Of avarice than been folk in yowthe,
And what I shal eek seyn herkneth wel nowthe.
Of neede eek may it cured been and helid;
A man may so large despenses make
Til al his good be despendid and delid;
And whan his purs yemptid is and shake,
Thanne begynneth indigence awake,
By which he cured is of the seeknesse
Of prodigalitee or fool largesse.
But avarice, he seith, incurable is;
For ay the more a man therin procedith
And wexith old, so mochil more ywis
He avaricious is; in him naght breedith
But thoght and wo, for ay his herte dreedith
His good to leese; and more for to hepe,
His thoghtes stirten heer and theer and lepe.
Now if the heed of al a regioun,
By whom that al governed is and gyed,
Be of so seekly a condicioun
That it may by no cure be maistried,
Thanne is he to the werse part applied,
And, as the Philosophre seith us to,
The lesse wikke is fool largesse of two.
The Philosophre preeveth avarice
Wel werse than is prodigalitee.
By thre causes he halt it gretter vice:
First, he seith, it is bettre seek to be
Of a seeknesse or an infirmitee
Of which a man may have rekeverynge
Than of swich oon as ther is noon helynge.
The second cause is, prodigalitee
Is more ny to vertu many del
Than avarice, and why yee shul wel see.
He that is liberal nat list so wel
For to receyve any good or catel
As geve, but what man that is fool large
To take and geve, geveth he no charge.

And syn fool large on gold settith his herte
No more than the liberal, than may
Fool large into liberalitee sterte
Lightly now, for vertu is kynges pray;
He avarice eschue moot alway
By cause shee more is contrarious
To vertu than the large outrageous.
The thridde skile is, for a kyng is set
In his reme for his peples releef,
For they sholden for him fare the bet;
But the streit chynche qwenchith nevere greef;
His gold is nevere salve to mescheef;
Oonly to gadere and keepe he him delitith;
But the fool large many a man profitith.
Yit vices been they grete, bothe tweyne.
O worthy Prince, take on yow largesse;
Dooth so, o gracious Lord, for Goddes peyne.
Largesse yput is unto the liknesse
Of vessels whos mowthes han greet wydnesse
And hilde out hir licour habundantly;
Thus seith the Philosophre treewely.
And in as mochil as a welle also,
At the which many folk hir watir fecche,
Needith to han the larger mowth, right so
The largesse of a kyng moot ferther strecche,
If he of his estat anythyng recche,
Than othir mennes, for hir inpotence
Strecchith nat so fer as his influence.
Largesse is liberalitee ycallid,
And likned is unto hem that been free;
But he that avaricious is, is thrallid
To moneie. A kyng moot algates flee
A chynches herte for his honestee
And for the profyt, as I seide above,
Of his peple if he thynke wynne hir love.
Victorie and honour he shal him purchace
That is of giftes free, but waar alway
That he nat tarie ne delaye his grace;
Dryve it nat foorth unto anothir day,
Whan, if him list, anoon he geve may;
Geve it as blyve, his thank is wel the more:
This vouche I on Holy Scriptures lore.
The vertu is of liberalitee
Geve and despende in place and tyme due.
Right as largesse dooth in swich degree,
They bothe moot in hir conceites chue
Where is good geve and where to eschue,
The persone and the somme and cause why;
What they geven, geve it vertuously.
But it nat longith to the liberal
To geve him good that usith flaterie;
His menynge and entencioun final
On fals plesaunce is set for briberie;
He is the verray cofre of treccherie;
His doublenesse his lord doun overthrowith;
The seed of his confusion he sowith.
That man yborn is in a blessid hour
Whom that pitee, dissert, or kyndenesse
Stiren to geve or ministre him socour
That infortunes strokes bittirnesse
Ywowndid hath with povertes sharpnesse.
Nat meene I hem that hyre and fees and wages
Han at the dees lost and hir heritages,
But tho that welthy men han been byfore,
And vertuous been, and han hir good lost,
And can nat begge, to be deed therfore;
On hem ful wel bestowid is the cost.
But weleaway, as hard as is a post -
A post? Nay, as a stoon been hertes now!
Lordes, for shame! What thyng eilith yow?
A gentil herte for to begge hath shame;
His rody shamefastnesse dar nat preye.
Yee that of gentillesse han style and name,
Lat nat your poore brethren by yow deye.
See unto hem thogh they nat speke or seye.
Is pitee fro yow fled? Calle hir agayn,
For hir absence hath many good man slayn.
Senek seith, he hath nat that thyng for noght
That bieth it by speeche and by prayeere.
There is nothyng that is in eerthe wroght,
As that he seith, that is yboght so deere;
It standith streite whan it shal appeere,
For it is vois of wrecchidnesse and sorwe,
Whan that a man shal preye or begge or borwe.
Allas, thogh that a man deskevere and pleyne
To many a lord his meschevous miserie,
The lord nat deyneth undirstonde his peyne;
He settith nat therby a blakberie.
Welthe in the lordes sail blowith ful merie,
But the needy berith his sail so lowe
That no wynd of confort may in it blowe.
Of liberalitee yit forthermore
I telle wole, as that I have herd seyn
Amonges wyse folk goon is ful yore.
What man a ledere is or a chiefteyn
Of peple, his labour is al waast and veyn
But he be free unto his sowdeours,
If that he seeke conqueste of honours.
And specially, that he hir duetee
Abregge nat, ne nat syncope hir wages
That hem assigned been. In certeyntee
Peril of shame folwen swiche usages;
Whan al acounted is, tho avantages
That fowndid been of wronges and repreef
Been naght but avantages of mescheef.
This makith covetyse or avarice
Roote of alle harmes, fo to conscience;
Of wikkid purchas is shee emperice,
And mochil hath, and ay hath indigence.
Shee rather wole lyve in abstinence
Of mete and drynke for hertes scantnesse
Than for the soule or bodyes holsumnesse.
Prince excellent, so moot yee wirke and wilne
As may your soules helthe edifie,
And, among othir thynges, that your wil ne
Be infect with no wrecchid chyncherie;
Largesse mesurable unto yow tye
And fool largesse voidith fro yow clene,
For free largesse is a vertuous mene.
De regis prudentia
Now, gracious Prince, lyke it yow to wite
That touche I thynke of a kynges prudence
As that I thereof fynde in bookes write.
Prudence is callid wit and sapience,
And needes moot real magnificence
Be prudent, as that the scripture us leerith,
If he shal been as his estat requerith.
Prudence, attemperance, strengthe, and right,
Tho foure been vertues principal;
Prudence gooth byfore and geveth light
Of conseil what tho othir thre do shal,
That they may wirke, be it greet or smal,
Aftir hir reed, withouten whom no man
Wel unto God ne the world lyve can.
Prudence is vertu of entendement;
Shee makith man by reson him governe.
Whoso that list to be wys and prudent
And the light folwe wole of hir lanterne,
He muste caste his look in every herne
Of thynges past and been and that shul be;
The ende seeth and eek mesurith she.
Ther is no wight that shee shapith deceyve;
And thogh man caste him hire to begyle,
Nat wole it be; by wit shee wole it weyve.
Eek shee observeth so wel trouthes style
And therto can so wel hir tonge affyle,
That, lest the favour of frendshipes corde,
Othir than trouthe can shee nat recorde.
Shee byheetith by good avysament
And geveth more than hir list promette;
Shee geveth eek to men commandement
Nat in Fortune truste or by hir sette;
And al the trust out of hir herte shette
Of might of worldly dominacioun.
Vertu gyeth hir operacioun.
Prudence hath lever loved be than drad;
Ther may no prince in his estat endure,
Ne therin any whyle stande sad,
But he be loved, for love is armure
Of seuretee. O, take on yow the cure,
Excellent Prince, love to embrace,
And than your herte is set in sikir place.

Beeth wel avysid or your graunt out go
How yee that charge may parfourme and bere.
Whan it is past, observe it wel also,
For elles wole it yow annoye and dere.
For your honour, it mochil bettre were
No graunt to graunte at al than that your graunt
Yow preeve a brekere of a covenaunt.
He that is loved, men drede him offende;
But he that drad and nat beloved is,
As Tullius seith, lightly may descende,
And the lordshipe leese that was his.
And Senek also seith touchynge this:
"The soget hatith whom he hath in drede,
And hate is hard if it his venym shede."
Was nevere drede yit a good wardeyn
To holde lordshipe in his sikirnesse,
But oonly love is thyng moost sovereyn.
Love is norice of welthe and of gladnesse;
But out of love spryngith ferdfulnesse,
And fere is good which that on love him growndith;
But othir fere nat helith but wowndith.
Love withouten a good governaille
A kyng hath noon, for thogh men no word seye,
If he his peple oppresse, it is no faille,
They love him nat in no manere of weye;
They may his heestes outward wel obeye,
But in hir hertes is smal obeissance,
And unto God they conpleyne hir grevance.
And swich a kyng is nat prudent ne wys
That of his peple purchaceth him hate,
For love excedith al tresor in prys;
So hath it been and so be wole algate.
Whan that richesses ebben and abate,
If love endure, it may hem restore,
And love is goten by prudences lore.
By wys conseil settith your hy estat
In swich an ordre as yee lyve may
Of your good propre in reule moderat.
Is it knyghtly lyve on rapyne? Nay!
For Crystes sake, so yow gyeth ay
As that may strecche to your peples ese,
And therwithal yee shul God hyly plese.
It apparteneth a kyng for to be
A kyng in verray soothe and existence.
A kyng of office and of dignitee
The name is; he moot doon his diligence
His peple for to gye by prudence;
For that he rule hem sholde duely,
The style of kyng he berith certeynly.
As an archer may nat his arwe sheete
Evene at a mark but if he the mark see,
No more may a kyng, I yow byheete,
Governe his peple in right and equitee
But by prudence he reule his hy degree.
If that be wel, his peple hath sikirnesse
Of reste and pees, welthe, joie, and gladnesse.
Begynnynge of wysdam is God to drede;
What kyng that dredith God, is good and just
To his peple; beeth swich, my Lord, I rede;
In love and awe of God ficchith your lust;
Than be yee wys, and than yow needes must,
Aftir your worldly sceptre transitorie,
In hevene regne in perpetuel glorie.
De consilio habendo in omnibus factis
Now purpose I to trete how to a kyng
It needful is to do by conseil ay,
Withouten which good is he do nothyng;
For a kyng is but a man soul, par fay,
And be his wit nevere so good, he may
Erre and mistake him othirwhyle among,
Whereas good conseil may exclude a wrong.
Excellent Prince, in axynge of reed
Deskevereth nat your wil in no maneere;
What that yee thynke do, lat it be deed;
As for the tyme, let no word appeere
But what every man seith wel herkne and heere;
And yit, whan good conseil is geven yow,
What yee do wole, keepe it cloos ynow,
Til that yow lyke parfourme it in dede;
And if it shal be doon, let it nat tarie,
For that is perillous, withouten drede.
Ther is nothyng may make a lond miscarie
More than swich delay. Ful necessarie
Is it, a good purpos parfourme as blyve,
And if it nat be, out of mynde it dryve.
And if that a man of symple degree,
Or poore of birthe, or yong, thee wel conseille,
Admitte his reson and take it in gree.
Why nat, my goode Lord? What sholde yow eile?
But men do nat so, whereof I merveille;
The world favourith ay the ryches sawe
Thogh that his conseil be nat worth an hawe.
What he seith, up is to the clowdes bore;
But, and the poore speke worth the tweye,
His seed nat sprynge may - it nis but lore.
They seyn, "What is he this? Lat him go pleye!"
O, worthy Prince, beeth wel waar, I preye,
That your hy dignitee and sad prudence
No desdeyn have of the poores sentence.
Thogh men contrarie eek your opinioun,
They may par cas conseille yow the beste.
Also yee been at your eleccioun
To do or leve it as yourselven leste.
If it be good, impresse it in the cheste
Of your memorie and executith it;
If it nat be, to leve it is a wit.
And if yow list your conseillour to preeve,
Yee feyne moot yee han necessitee
Of gold; and if he stire yow and meeve,
Your jewelles leye in wedde, certeyn he
Loveth your estat and prosperitee.
But he that redith yow your peple oppresse,
He hatith yow certeyn - it is no lesse.
And if a man in tyme of swich a neede
Of his good geve yow a good substance,
Swich oon cherice and elles God forbeede.
Konneth him thanke of his good chevissance,
For him is lever to suffre penance
Himself than that your peple sholde smerte;
There is a preef of treewe lovynge herte.
In axyng eek of reed, waar of Favel;
Also waar of the avaricious,
For noon of tho two can conseille wel;
Hir reed and conseil is envenymous;
They bothe been of gold so desyrous
They rekke nat what bryge hir lord be ynne,
So that they mowen gold and silver wynne.
And if your conseil which that yee han take
Unto the knowleche or the audience
Of youre foos comen be, than let it slake
And uttirly putte it in abstinence;
For execute it were an inprudence.
In swich a cas is wisdam it to chaunge;
Good is your conseil be to your foos straunge.
Conseil may wel be likned to a brydil
Which that an hors up keepith fro fallyng,
If man do by conseil; but al in ydil
Is reed if man nat folwe it in wirkynge.
Do nothyng reedlees; do by conseillynge
Of heedes wyse, and no repentance
Ther folwe yow shal in your governance.
Commendable is conseil take of the wyse
And nat of fooles, for they may nat love
But swich thyng as hem lykith.
Cheesith men eek of old experience -
Hir wit and intellect is glorious;
Of hir conseil holsum is the sentence.
The olde mannes reed is fructuous;
Waar of yong conseil, it is perillous.
Roboas fond it so whan he forsook
Old conseil and unto yong reed him took.
Th'entente woot I wel of the yong man
As lovynge is and treewe as of the olde,
Thogh that he nat so wel conseille can.
Yonge men stronge been, hardy, and bolde,
And more weldy to fighte if they sholde;
But thogh the olde in tyme of pees or werre
Rede and conseille, it shal nat be the werre.
He that is fressh and lusty now this day
By lengthe of yeeres shal nothyng be so;
Fresshnesse and lust may nat endure alway;
Whan age is comen, he commandith ho.
But let see, who considerith this, who?
Good is that age sette a governaille
And youthe it sue - thus may bothe availle.
Excellent Prince, eek on the holy dayes
Beeth waar that yee nat your conseiles holde;
As for tho tymes, putte hem in delayes;
Thynkith wel this: yee wel apaid be nolde
If your soget nat by youre heestes tolde.
Right so our lord God, kyng and commaundour
Of kynges alle, is wrooth with that errour.
In the long yeer been werk-dayes ynowe,
If they be wel despent for to entende
To conseiles. To God your herte bowe
If yee desyre men hir hertes bende
To yow. What kyng nat dredith God offende
Ne nat rekkith do him disobeissance,
He shal be disobeied eek, par chance.
The firste fyndere of our fair langage
Hath seid, in cas semblable, and othir mo,
So hyly wel that it is my dotage
For to expresse or touche any of tho.
Allas, my fadir fro the world is go,
My worthy maistir Chaucer - him I meene;
Be thow advocat for him, hevenes queene.
As thow wel knowist, o blessid Virgyne,
With lovyng herte and hy devocioun,
In thyn honour he wroot ful many a lyne.
O now thyn help and thy promocioun!
To God thy sone make a mocioun,
How he thy servant was, mayden Marie,
And lat his love floure and fructifie.
Althogh his lyf be qweynt, the resemblance
Of him hath in me so fressh lyflynesse
That to putte othir men in remembrance
Of his persone, I have heere his liknesse
Do make, to this ende, in soothfastnesse,
That they that han of him lost thoght and mynde
By this peynture may ageyn him fynde.
The ymages that in the chirches been
Maken folk thynke on God and on his seintes
Whan the ymages they beholde and seen,
Where ofte unsighte of hem causith restreyntes
Of thoghtes goode. Whan a thyng depeynt is
Or entaillid, if men take of it heede,
Thoght of the liknesse it wole in hem breede.
Yit sum men holde oppinioun and seye
That noon ymages sholde ymakid be.
They erren foule and goon out of the weye;
Of trouthe have they scant sensibilitee.
Passe over that! Now, blessid Trinitee,
Upon my maistres soule mercy have;
For him, Lady, thy mercy eek I crave.
More othir thyng wolde I fayn speke and touche
Heere in this book, but swich is my dulnesse,
For that al voide and empty is my pouche,
That al my lust is qweynt with hevynesse,
And hevy spirit commandith stilnesse.
And have I spoke of pees, I shal be stille.
God sende us pees, if that it be His wille.
De pace
Touche I wole heere of pees a word or two
As that scriptures maken mencioun,
And than my book is endid al and do.
To Cryst ordeyneth He a mansioun
Which in his hertes habitacioun
Embraceth pees; wher pees is, Cryst is there,
For Cryst nat list abyden elleswhere.
Amonges Cristen folk, wrecche is he noon
That paciently suffrith a duresse;
But sikirly, a wrecche is he oon
That makith stryf; and him sueth gladnesse
Which that of pees conseillith the swetnesse.
Our pees also and concord brothirly
Is sacrifice to God almighty.
Thynges that leden men to pees been three:
Conformyng in God, in ourself humblesse,
And with our neighburghes tranquillitee.
First seye I that we moot our willes dresse
And hem conformen alle more and lesse
To Goddes wil; al thyng is in His might,
Sauf oonly that He may do noon unright.
Evene as a man is ay in werre and stryf
That bysyeth him withstande a man which he
Nat may, right so hath he peisible lyf
Continuelly whos willes fully be
To Goddes wil conformynge. O pardee,
Ageyn God helpith ther no resistence,
So strong and mighty is His excellence.
Humilitee to pees eek may men lede.
Men seyn, two grete may nat in o sak;
But symple humblesse is of swich goodlyhede
That shee of troubly hate hath no smak;
Shee stryveth nat; of discord hath shee lak.
Shee voide and empty is of crueltee;
Humble spirit desirith unitee.
The thridde is eek tranquillitee of thoght,
That gydith man to pees, for as a wight
May in a bed of thornes reste noght,
Right so who is with grevous thoghtes twight
May with himself ne othir folk aright
Have no pees; a man moot needes smerte
Whan irous thoghtes occupie his herte.
And evene as that upon a pilwe softe
Man may him reste wel and take his ese,
Right so that Lord that sitte in hevene alofte
Herte peisible can so lyke and plese
That He wole entre therin and it sese
And occupie it as just possessour;
In place of pees restith our Sauveour.
But al anothir pees ther is also
Which is nat worth; it is envenymous,
For it is unto verray pees a fo.
Whan men in a purpos malicious
Accorden, that pees is to God grevous;
Swich pees was twixt Herodes and Pilat,
And in swich cas, pees wers is than debat.
A feyned pees eek is to pees verray
A fo; and swich was the pees of Judas
Kyssynge Cryst. Lord, whethir that this day
Any swich pees be usid as that was!
Yee, so I drede me, by Seint Thomas,
The kus of Judas is now wyde sprad;
Toknes of pees been, but smal love is had.
Men countrefete in wordes Tullius
And folwe in werk Judas or Genyloun;
Many an hony word and many a kus
Ther is; but wayte on the conclusioun
And pryvee galle al torneth up so doun;
Ther leveth naght of pees but contenance,
For al the peynted cheere and daliance.
There is also a pees inordinat
Whan the gretter obeieth to the lesse,
As thus: whan to his soget a prelat
Obeieth; and whan resoun the blyndnesse
Sueth of sensualitees madnesse,
Obeyynge it - al swich pees is haynous,
For it is to good pees contrarious.
Right swich a pees Adam hadde with Eeve
Whan that he unto hir desir obeide;
He was par cas adrad hir for to greeve,
Wherfore he dide as that shee him seide.
In that obedience he foleide,
For God hire him bytook him to obeye;
But I adrad am that I thus fer seye.
If that this come unto the audience
Of wommen, I am seur I shal be shent;
For that I touche of swich obedience,
Many a browe shal on me be bent;
They wolen wayte been equipollent,
And sumwhat more, unto hire housbondes;
And sum men seyn swich usage in this lond is.
And it no wondir is, as seemeth me,
Whan that I me bethoght have al aboute,
Thogh that wommen desyre sovereyntee,
And hire housbondes make to hem loute.
They maad were of a ribbe, it is no doute,
Which more strong is and substancial
Than slyme of eerthe, and clenner therwithal.
Wherfore it seemeth that the worthynesse
Of wommen passith mennes, in certeyn;
And yit sum nyce men, of lewdenesse,
In repreef of hem holden thereageyn;
For crookid was that ribbe, and speke and seyn
That also crookid is hir courtesie;
But ageyn that, strongly wole I replie.
For in the wrytyng and in the scripture
Of philosophres, men may see and rede,
Cerclely shap is moost parfyt figure,
Betokenyng in gemetrie onhede;
And crookidnesse a part is that may lede
Sumwhat unto a cercle or a compas.
What so men seyn, wommen stonde in good cas.
For therby shewith it that crookidnesse
Strecchith unto gretter perfeccioun
Than dooth a thyng that is of evennesse.
Of this helpith no contradiccioun,
For it is sooth; it is no ficcioun.
Every parfyt body that man can nevene
Is rownd and crookid and nat streight ne evene.
Begynne first at hevene and rownd it is;
The sonne and moone and the sterres also;
Heed of man, yen, mowth, and herte, ywis,
Been al rownde; and othir been ther mo
Than I expresse as now; but or I go,
Yit shal I bet wommannes part susteene;
So biddith pees, and that to folwe I meene.
Now for to speke or touchen of the place
In which that man and womman formed were:
Almighty God to womman shoop swich grace
That shee was formed in the worthyere -
In paradys men woot wel he made here;
But man ymaad was out of paradys,
In place of lesse worthynesse and prys.
And of the manere of formacioun
Of bothe two, herkneth now wel I preye.
The tokne or the significacioun
Of makyng of Adam may by no weye
Strecche to so parfyt a good, I seye,
As dide the formacioun of Eeve;
And that as swythe heere I shal it preeve,
For more have I for hir partie yit.
Makynge of Eeve tokned the makynge
Of Holy Chirche and sacramentz of it;
As of the syde of Adam, him slepynge,
Eeve was maad, so our lord Cryst dyynge
Upon the Crois, Holy Chirche of His syde
And the sacramentz maad were in that tyde.
Fro tyme eek Cryst was twelve yeer of age
Unto thritti, He with His modir ay
Was servynge hire with plesant corage;
To teche humilitee, He took the way
From hevene hidir, and meeknesse verray
Taghte He the moost partie of His lyf
Whil He was with His modir and His wyf;
For shee was bothe two, and syn shee had
So longe of hir housbonde the maistrie,
Wommen, I trowe, been nat now so mad
That style to forgo; nay, swich folie,
What man that can in a womman espie,
Is worthy shryned be; God save hem alle,
And graunte hir hy corage nat appalle.
Holy Writ seith, "If wommen sovereyntee
Of hir housbondes have, how that they
Unto hir housbondes contrarious be. . . ."
The text, I woot wel, is swich, but what they?
That text I undirstonde thus alwey:
Whan that housbondes hem mistake and erre,
Ageyn that vice wyves maken werre.
Thogh a womman hir housbonde contrarie
In his opinioun erroneous,
Shul man for that deeme hir his adversarie?
Straw! Be he nevere so harrageous,
If he and shee shul dwellen in oon hous,
Good is he suffre; therby pees may sprynge;
Housbondes pees is peisible suffrynge.
By concord smale thynges multiplien,
And by discord, hate, ire, and rancour,
Perisshen thynges grete, and waaste and dyen.
Pees hath the fruyt of ese in his favour;
To gete pees holsum is the labour,
And keepe it wel whan that man hath it caght,
That ire ne discord banisshe it naght.
How plesant to God is of pees the mirthe;
What delyt eek in pees and unioun
The Prince of pees hath shewid in His birthe
By angels delitable song and soun.
Also, aftir His resurreccioun
He pees bad, and whan unto hevene He sty,
He lefte pees in eerthe treewely.
That gifte of pees, that precious jewel,
If men it keepe and do it nat away,
Sones of Cryst they may be clept ful wel;
But stryf, which moche is to the feendes pay,
Among us fervent is so, weleaway!
We Cristen folk withynne us and withoute
Han so greet stryf that ther may no pees route.
The riot that hath been withyn this land
Among ourself many a wyntres space
Hath to the swerd put many a thousand.
The greedy herte that wolde al embrace
With irous wil and crabbid, pale face,
And swipir feendly hand, with strook vengeable
Hath many a womman maad hem clothe in sable.
This is no doute that ambicioun
And covetyse fyre al this debat.
Tho two been of wikkid condicioun;
No wight halt him content of his estat.
Every man wilneth to been exaltat;
Thogh he be greet, yit hyer wolde he go;
And thise arn causes of our stryf and wo.
Werre withyn ourself is moost harmful
And perillous, and moost is ageyn kynde;
Therwith this land hath wrastled many a pul;
The smert is swich, it may nat out of mynde,
For it hath cast our welthe fer behynde,
And ferther wole but tho werres stynte;
No good may come of werres wrathful dynte.
Whyles that Romains were in herte al oon
And undyvydid al hool stood, they were
Lordes of al the world; fo was ther noon
Outward, as who seith, mighte hem greeve or dere;
But al sauf welthe may men suffre and bere.
Withyn hemself sprang swich division
That it hem broghte to confusion.
What causid hir inward werre and rumour
But avarice? Shee refte hem hir wele.
Whyles they hadde in cheertee and favour
Profyt commun, they hadden by the stele
Prosperitee; but it away gan stele
Whan they hem drow to profyt singuler,
And of profyt commun nat weren cheer.
Beholde how avarice creepith in
And kyndlith werre and qwenchith unitee.
O Favel, thow mightest been of hir kyn,
For swich a brekepees as that is shee,
Right swich anothir may I name thee;
Thow rekkist nat ne dreddist nat to weende
For muk to helle unto the fertheste eende.
This Favel is of pees a destourbour;
Twixt God and mannes soule he werre reisith.
This world is blent by this dissimulour;
Vertu he blameth and vices he preisith;
Sore in the bowe of treccherie he teisith;
His shot is gay but it is envenymed;
His fikil aart may nat aright be rymed.
Vertuous trouthe, hyde thow thyn heed!
Thow maist as wel, thyn aart may nat availle;
Out of this worldes grace art thow as deed.
But Favel, traitour, thy fals governaille
Makith ful many shippes for to saille
Into thy cofre; warm is thyn office;
That trouthe leesith, wynne can thy vice.
Allas, so many a worthy clerk famous
In Oxenforde and in Cambrigge also
Stonde unavanced, wher the vicious
Favel hath chirches and provendres mo
Than God is plesid with. Allas that tho
That werreyen vertu so been promootid,
And they helplees in whom vertu is rootid.
The knyght or squyer on that othir syde,
Or yeman, that hath in pees and in werris
Despent with his lord his blood, but he hyde
The trouthe and can curreye, he nat the ner is
His lordes grace; and untrouthe ful fer is
From him that worthy corage hath honured;
Grace of this world by Favel is devoured.
Now unto my mateere of werre inward
Resorte I; but to seeke stories olde
Noon neede is, syn this day sharp werre and hard
Is at the dore heere, as men may beholde.
France, no wondir thogh thyn herte colde
And brenne also, swich is thyn agonye;
Thyself manaceth thyself for to dye.
Thyself destroie, and feeble is thy victorie;
Thow hast in thyself stryven ofte or now
And hast appesid al, have in memorie,
Thurgh thy prudence. Woostow nat wel how
Slaghtre is deffendid, and nat rekkist thow
To rebelle ageyn God that it forbedith?
For thee myn hevy goost bysyly dredith.
What any part offendid hath to othir,
Redresse it faire and charitablely;
By lawe of God yee been eche othres brothir.
O now adayes is noon enemy
Lyk oon that is to othir of blood ny.
Beeth waar, correcte it, lest men of yow seye,
"Lo whilom this was France of hy nobleye!"
I am an Englissh man and am thy fo;
For thow a fo art unto my ligeance;
And yit myn herte stuffid is with wo
To see thyn unkyndly disseverance.
Accordith yow; girdith yow with souffrance!

Allas also the greet dissencioun,
The pitous harm, the hateful discord,
That hath endured twixt this regioun
And othir landes Cristen. He that Lord
Of remes alle is, the auctour of concord
And pees, sore is meeved therwith; but we
Nat dreden for t'offende His magestee.
Of France and Engeland, o Cristen Princes,
Syn that your style of worthynesse is ronge
Thurghout the world in al the provinces,
If that of yow mighte be red or songe
That yee were oon in herte, ther nis tonge
That mighte expresse how profitable and good
Unto al peple it were of Cristen blood.
Yee hem ensamplen, yee been hir miroures;
They folwen yow. What sorwe lamentable
Is causid of your werres sharpe shoures
Ther woot no wight; it is irreparable.
O noble Cristen Princes honurable,
For Him that for yow souffred passioun,
Of Cristen blood haveth conpassioun!
Allas, what peple hath your werre slayn!
What cornes waastid and doun trode and shent!
How many a wyf and mayde hath be bylayn,
Castels doun bete, and tymbred howses brent
And drawen doun and al totore and rent!
The harm ne may nat rekned be ne told;
This werre wexith al to hoor and old.
To wynne worldly tresor and richesse
Is of your stryf the long continuance;
Wherby it seemeth that yee han scantnesse
Of good, or yee konne have no souffissance
Of plentee; and if ther be habundance
In your cofres, and in your hertes neede,
Of lordly conceit may it nat proceede.
Whan Alisaundre deed was and ygrave,
And his toumbe of gold wroght ful rychely
As kynges dignitee wole axe and crave,
Dyverse philosophres drow hem ny
Therto, and as oon of hem stood therby,
He seide thus among the folkes alle:
"Seeth swich a chaunge is neewe now befalle.
"This Alisaundre made yistirday
Of gold his tresor, but gold makith now
Tresor of him, as yee beholde may."
Anothir philosophre seide eek how
Al this world yistirday was nat ynow
To stoppen Alisaundres covetyse;
And now three elnes of clooth him souffyse.
O worthy Princes two, now takith heede,
As hardy deeth is yow for to assaille
As shee dide Alisaundre, whom in dreede
Hadde al this world. What mighte his force availle
Ageyn the deeth? Nothyng, nothyng, sanz faille;
For thogh that he swerd were of chivalrie,
Deeth threew him doun to ground and lete him lie.
With how greet labour or with how greet peyne
Men wynne good, to the world leve it shal;
Unto the pit gooth naght but the careyne;
And thogh gold were graven therwithal,
Nat mighte it helpe; beeth nat goldes thral.
Souffysith to your good, Yee Princes bothe;
With pees and reste, arme yow and clothe.
Whan yee have stryve and foughten al your fille,
Pees folwe moot; but good were it or thanne
That pees were had. What lust han yee to spille
The blood that Cryst with His blood boghte whanne
He on the Crois starf? O Lady Seint Anne,
Thy doghtir preye to byseeche hir sone
To stynte of werres the dampnable wone.
The book of Revelaciouns of Bryde
Expressith how Cryst thus seide hir unto:
"I am pees verray, there I wole abyde;
Whereas pees is, noon othir wole I do;
Of France and Engeland the kynges two,
If they wole have pees, pees perpetuel
They shul han." Thus hir book seith, woot I wel.
But verray pees may be had by no way
But if trouthe and justice loved be;
And for that o kyng hath right, forthy may
By matrymoyne pees and unitee
Been had - Crystes plesaunce is swich. Thus he
That right heir is may the reme rejoise,
Cessyng al stryf, debat, or werre, or noyse."
Now syn the weye is open, as yee see,
How pees to gete in vertuous maneere,
For love of Him that dyde upon the tree,
And of Marie, His blisful modir deere,
Folwith that way and your stryf leye on beere;
Purchaceth pees by way of mariage,
And yee therin shul fynden avantage.
Now pees approche and dryve out werre and stryf;
Frendshipe appeere and banisshe thow hate;
Tranquillitee, reve thow ire hir lyf
That fervent is and leef for to debate.
Yee three vertues now lat see abate
The malice of the foule vices three
That verray foos been to al Cristientee.
O Cristen Princes, for the love and awe
Of Him that is the kyng of kynges alle,
Nesshith your hertes and to pees yow drawe;
Considereth what good may therof falle;
The hony takith and leveth the galle.
The steerne juge in His jugement
May do but right; waar His punysshement.
What disobeissance and rebellioun,
What wil unbuxum, what unkyndenesse,
May He preeve in yow that destruccioun
Doon of men, His handwerk soothly, I gesse;
It muste needes stire His rightwisnesse
Ageyn yow. Styntith at His reverence;
Sueth His grace and His benevolence.
From hennes foorth let ther betwixt yow be
So vertuous a stryf for Crystes sake
That yee of pees and love and charitee
May stryve. Lat your pitee now awake
That longe hath slept, and pees betwixt yow make;
And on the foos of Cryst, your redemptour,
Werreieth; there kythith your vigour.
Upon the mescreantz to make werre,
And hem unto the feith of Cryst to brynge,
Good were; therin may yee nothyng erre;
That were a meritorie werreyyng;
That is the way unto the conqueryng
Of hevene blisse that is endelees,
To which yow brynge the auctour of pees. Amen.
[Verba compilatoris ad librum]
O litil book, who gaf thee hardynesse
Thy wordes to pronounce in the presence
Of kynges ympe and princes worthynesse,
Syn thow al nakid art of eloquence?
And why approchist thow his excellence
Unclothid sauf thy kirtil bare also?
I am right seur his humble pacience
Thee geveth hardynesse to do so.
But o thyng woot I wel, go wher thow go,
I am so pryvee unto thy sentence,
Thow haast and art and wilt been everemo
To his hynesse of swich benevolence,
Thogh thow nat do him due reverence
In wordes, thy cheertee nat is the lesse.
And if lust be, to his magnificence
Do by thy reed; his welthe it shal witnesse.
Byseeche him of his gracious noblesse
Thee holde excusid of thyn innocence
Of endytynge, and with hertes meeknesse,
If anythyng thee passe of negligence,
Byseeche him of mercy and indulgence,
And that for thy good herte he be nat fo
To thee that al seist of loves fervence;
That knowith He Whom nothyng is hid fro.
Explicit
Lifted from http://d.lib.rochester.edu/teams/text/blyth-hoccleve-regiment-of-princes


Membean Fanpage
BY: FINN STEWART
My Top 10 Membean Words
Hello
How are you doing?
What day is it today?
When is school over?
Computer is a very good class.
Membean(the most helpful word website to ever be created)
Level 1
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f9BestWord
modules
Responsible for displaying the Scrabble word with the highest score
GameService
ScrabbleService
StateMachineService
<f9-best-word> </f9-best-word>
<ANY f9-best-word> ... </ANY>
Creates a set of Tile objects from the supplied Word
A word object
An array of Tiles


Accessible design is good design. Only with Prestige.
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|
KlusterKite
0.0.0
A framework to create scalable and redundant services based on awesome Akka.Net project.
|
Checks the work of ConfigurationExtensions More...
Public Member Functions | |
| ConfigurationCheckTests (ITestOutputHelper output) | |
| Initializes a new instance of the ConfigurationCheckTests class. More... | |
| async Task | DefaultConfigurationNoError () |
| Testing that default configuration has no errors More... | |
| async Task | NoPackagesError () |
| Tests the error of missed package definitions More... | |
| async Task | NoTemplatesError () |
| Tests the error of missed template definitions More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationPackageDependencyInvalidVersionError () |
| Test for correct workaround of incompatible package versions More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationPackageDependencyNotDefinedError () |
| Test for correct workaround of missed definition of package dependencies More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationPackageNotFoundError () |
| Test for correct workaround of package definitions missed in nuget repository More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationPackageVersionFormatError () |
| Testing package version format error More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationTemplateNoPackagesError () |
| Test for correct workaround of missed package requirements definition in defined template More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationTemplatePackageRequirementDependencyNotFoundError () |
| Test for correct workaround of missed dependency of package requirements definition in defined template More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationTemplatePackageRequirementDependencyWrongVersionError () |
| Test for correct workaround of incompatible dependency of package requirements definition in defined template More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationTemplatePackageRequirementVersionFormatError () |
| Test for correct workaround of package requirements specific version format error in defined template More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationTemplateUnknownPackagesError () |
| Test for correct workaround of template requirement for undefined package More... | |
| async Task | ConfigurationTemplateUnknownPackagesWithVersionError () |
| Test for correct workaround of template requirement for package that is missed in nuget repository More... | |
Additional Inherited Members | |
| Public Attributes inherited from KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTestsBase | |
| const string | Net46 = ".NETFramework,Version=v4.6" |
| The .NET Framework 4.6 name More... | |
| const string | NetCore = ".NETCoreApp,Version=v1.1" |
| The .NET Core 1.1 name More... | |
| Protected Member Functions inherited from KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTestsBase | |
| ConfigurationCheckTestsBase (ITestOutputHelper output) | |
| Initializes a new instance of the ConfigurationCheckTestsBase class. More... | |
| Properties inherited from KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTestsBase | |
| ITestOutputHelper | Output [get] |
| Gets the test output stream More... | |
Checks the work of ConfigurationExtensions
Definition at line 26 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationCheckTests | ( | ITestOutputHelper | output | ) |
Initializes a new instance of the ConfigurationCheckTests class.
| output | The output. |
Definition at line 34 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationPackageDependencyInvalidVersionError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of incompatible package versions
Definition at line 117 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationPackageDependencyNotDefinedError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of missed definition of package dependencies
Definition at line 137 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationPackageNotFoundError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of package definitions missed in nuget repository
Definition at line 156 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationPackageVersionFormatError | ( | ) |
Testing package version format error
Definition at line 175 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationTemplateNoPackagesError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of missed package requirements definition in defined template
Definition at line 194 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationTemplatePackageRequirementDependencyNotFoundError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of missed dependency of package requirements definition in defined template
Definition at line 213 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationTemplatePackageRequirementDependencyWrongVersionError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of incompatible dependency of package requirements definition in defined template
Definition at line 235 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationTemplatePackageRequirementVersionFormatError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of package requirements specific version format error in defined template
Definition at line 259 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationTemplateUnknownPackagesError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of template requirement for undefined package
Definition at line 279 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.ConfigurationTemplateUnknownPackagesWithVersionError | ( | ) |
Test for correct workaround of template requirement for package that is missed in nuget repository
Definition at line 299 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.DefaultConfigurationNoError | ( | ) |
Testing that default configuration has no errors
Definition at line 58 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.NoPackagesError | ( | ) |
Tests the error of missed package definitions
Definition at line 82 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.
| async Task KlusterKite.NodeManager.Tests.ConfigurationCheckTests.NoTemplatesError | ( | ) |
Tests the error of missed template definitions
Definition at line 99 of file ConfigurationCheckTests.cs.