Incipit Liber Septimus

Omnibus in causis sapiens doctrina salutemConsequitur, nec habet quis nisi doctus opem.Naturam superat doctrina, viro quod et ortusIngenii docilis non dedit, ipsa dabit.Non ita discretus hominum per climata regnat,Quin magis ut sapiat, indiget ipse schole.

I Genius the prest of love,Mi Sone, as thou hast preid aboveThat I the Scole schal declareOf Aristotle and ek the fareOf Alisandre, hou he was tauht,I am somdel therof destrauht;For it is noght to the matiereOf love, why we sitten hiereTo schryve, so as Venus bad.Bot natheles, for it is glad,    10So as thou seist, for thin apriseTo hiere of suche thinges wise,Wherof thou myht the time lisse,So as I can, I schal the wisse:For wisdom is at every throweAbove alle other thing to knoweIn loves cause and elleswhere.Forthi, my Sone, unto thin Ere,Though it be noght in the registreOf Venus, yit of that Calistre    20And Aristotle whylom writeTo Alisandre, thou schalt wite.

Bot for the lores ben diverse,I thenke ferst to the reherceThe nature of Philosophie,Which Aristotle of his clergie,Wys and expert in the sciences,Declareth thilke intelligences,As of thre pointz in principal.

Wherof the ferste in special    30Is Theorique, which is groundedOn him which al the world hath founded,Which comprehendeth al the lore.

And forto loken overmore,Next of sciences the secondeIs Rethorique, whos facondeAbove alle othre is eloquent:To telle a tale in juggementSo wel can noman speke as he.

The laste science of the thre    40It is Practique, whos officeThe vertu tryeth fro the vice,And techeth upon goode thewesTo fle the compaignie of schrewes,Which stant in disposicionOf mannes free eleccion.Practique enformeth ek the reule,Hou that a worthi king schal reuleHis Realme bothe in werre and pes.

Lo, thus danz Aristotiles    50These thre sciences hath dividedAnd the nature also decided,Wherof that ech of hem schal serve.

The ferste, which is the conserveAnd kepere of the remnant,As that which is most sufficantAnd chief of the Philosophie,If I therof schal specefieSo as the Philosophre tolde,Nou herkne, and kep that thou it holde.    60

Of Theorique principalThe Philosophre in specialThe propretees hath determined,As thilke which is enluminedOf wisdom and of hih prudenceAbove alle othre in his science:And stant departed upon thre,The ferste of which in his degreIs cleped in PhilosophieThe science of Theologie,    70That other named is Phisique,The thridde is seid Mathematique.

Theologie is that scienceWhich unto man yifth evidenceOf thing which is noght bodely,Wherof men knowe redelyThe hihe almyhti Trinite,Which is o god in uniteWithouten ende and beginnyngeAnd creatour of alle thinge,    80Of hevene, of erthe and ek of helle.Wherof, as olde bokes telle,The Philosophre in his resounWrot upon this conclusioun,And of his wrytinge in a clauseHe clepeth god the ferste cause,Which of himself is thilke good,Withoute whom nothing is good,Of which that every creatureHath his beinge and his nature.    90After the beinge of the thingesTher ben thre formes of beinges:Thing which began and ende schal,That thing is cleped temporal;Ther is also be other weieThing which began and schal noght deie.As Soules, that ben spiritiel,Here beinge is perpetuel:Bot ther is on above the Sonne,Whos time nevere was begonne,    100And endeles schal evere be;That is the god, whos magesteAlle othre thinges schal governe,And his beinge is sempiterne.The god, to whom that al honourBelongeth, he is creatour,And othre ben hise creatures:The god commandeth the naturesThat thei to him obeien alle;Withouten him, what so befalle,    110Her myht is non, and he mai al:The god was evere and evere schal,And thei begonne of his assent;The times alle be presentTo god, to hem and alle unknowe,Bot what him liketh that thei knowe:Thus bothe an angel and a man,The whiche of al that god beganBe chief, obeien goddes myht,And he stant endeles upriht.    120To this science ben priveThe clerkes of divinite,The whiche unto the poeple prechenThe feith of holi cherche and techen,Which in som cas upon believeStant more than thei conne prieveBe weie of Argument sensible:Bot natheles it is credible,And doth a man gret meede have,To him that thenkth himself to save.    130Theologie in such a wiseOf hih science and hih apriseAbove alle othre stant unlike,And is the ferste of Theorique.

Phisique is after the secounde,Thurgh which the Philosophre hath foundeTo techen sondri knowlechingesUpon the bodiliche thinges.Of man, of beste, of herbe, of ston,Of fissch, of foughl, of everychon    140That ben of bodely substance,The nature and the circumstanceThurgh this science it is ful soght,Which vaileth and which vaileth noght.

The thridde point of Theorique,Which cleped is Mathematique,Devided is in sondri wiseAnd stant upon diverse aprise.The ferste of whiche is Arsmetique,And the secounde is seid Musique,    150The thridde is ek Geometrie,Also the ferthe Astronomie.

Of Arsmetique the matiereIs that of which a man mai liereWhat Algorisme in nombre amonteth,Whan that the wise man acomptethAfter the formel propreteOf Algorismes Abece:Be which multiplicaciounIs mad and diminucioun    160Of sommes be thexperienceOf this Art and of this science.

The seconde of Mathematique,Which is the science of Musique,That techeth upon ArmonieA man to make melodieBe vois and soun of instrumentThurgh notes of acordement,The whiche men pronounce alofte,Nou scharpe notes and nou softe,    170Nou hihe notes and nou lowe,As be the gamme a man mai knowe,Which techeth the prolacionOf note and the condicion.

Mathematique of his scienceHath yit the thridde intelligenceFull of wisdom and of clergieAnd cleped is Geometrie,Thurgh which a man hath thilke sleyhte,Of lengthe, of brede, of depthe, of heyhte    180To knowe the proporcionBe verrai calculacionOf this science: and in this wiseThese olde Philosophres wise,Of al this worldes erthe round,Hou large, hou thikke was the ground,Controeveden thexperience;The cercle and the circumferenceOf every thing unto the heveneThei setten point and mesure evene.    190

Mathematique above thertheOf hyh science hath yit the ferthe,Which spekth upon AstronomieAnd techeth of the sterres hihe,Beginnynge upward fro the mone.Bot ferst, as it was forto done,This Aristotle in other thingUnto this worthi yonge kingThe kinde of every elementWhich stant under the firmament,    200Hou it is mad and in what wise,Fro point to point he gan devise.

Tofore the creacionOf eny worldes stacion,Of hevene, of erthe, or eke of helle,So as these olde bokes telle,As soun tofore the song is setAnd yit thei ben togedre knet,Riht so the hihe pourveanceTho hadde under his ordinance    210A gret substance, a gret matiere,Of which he wolde in his manereThese othre thinges make and forme.For yit withouten eny formeWas that matiere universal,Which hihte Ylem in special.Of Ylem, as I    am enformed,These elementz ben mad and formed,Of Ylem elementz they hoteAfter the Scole of Aristote,    220Of whiche if more I schal reherce,Foure elementz ther ben diverse.

The ferste of hem men erthe calle,Which is the lowest of hem alle,And in his forme is schape round,Substancial, strong, sadd and sound,As that which mad is sufficantTo bere up al the remenant.For as the point in a compasStant evene amiddes, riht so was    230This erthe set and schal abyde,That it may swerve to no side,And hath his centre after the laweOf kinde, and to that centre draweDesireth every worldes thing,If ther ne were no lettyng.

Above therthe kepth his boundeThe water, which is the secoundeOf elementz, and al withouteIt environeth therthe aboute.    240Bot as it scheweth, noght forthiThis soubtil water myhtely,Thogh it be of himselve softe,The strengthe of therthe perceth ofte;For riht as veines ben of blodIn man, riht so the water flodTherthe of his cours makth ful of veines,Als wel the helles as the pleines.And that a man may sen at ije,For wher the hulles ben most hyhe,    250Ther mai men welle stremes finde:So proveth it be weie of kindeThe water heyher than the lond.

And over this nou understond,Air is the thridde of elementz,Of whos kinde his aspirementzTakth every lifissh creature,The which schal upon erthe endure:For as the fissh, if it be dreie,Mot in defaute of water deie,    260Riht so withouten Air on lyveNo man ne beste myhte thryve,The which is mad of fleissh and bon;There is outake of alle non.

This Air in Periferies threDivided is of such degre,Benethe is on and on amidde,To whiche above is set the thridde:And upon the divisionsThere ben diverse impressions    270Of moist and ek of drye also,Whiche of the Sonne bothe tuoBen drawe and haled upon hy,And maken cloudes in the Sky,As schewed is at mannes sihte;Wherof be day and ek be nyhteAfter the times of the yerAmong ous upon Erthe herIn sondri wise thinges falle.

The ferste Periferie of alle    280Engendreth Myst and overmoreThe dewes and the Frostes hore,After thilke intersticionIn which thei take impression.

Fro the seconde, as bokes sein,The moiste dropes of the reynDescenden into Middilerthe,And tempreth it to sed and Erthe,And doth to springe grass and flour.And ofte also the grete schour    290Out of such place it mai be take,That it the forme schal forsakeOf reyn, and into snow be torned;And ek it mai be so sojornedIn sondri places up alofte,That into hail it torneth ofte.

The thridde of thair after the laweThurgh such matiere as up is draweOf dreie thing, as it is ofte,Among the cloudes upon lofte,    300And is so clos, it may noght oute,—Thanne is it chased sore aboute,Til it to fyr and leyt be falle,And thanne it brekth the cloudes alle,The whiche of so gret noyse craken,That thei the feerful thonder maken.The thonderstrok smit er it leyte,And yit men sen the fyr and leyte,The thonderstrok er that men hiere:So mai it wel be proeved hiere    310In thing which schewed is fro feer,A mannes yhe is there nerrThanne is the soun to mannes Ere.And natheles it is gret feereBothe of the strok and of the fyr,Of which is no recoverirIn place wher that thei descende,Bot if god wolde his grace sende.

And forto speken over this,In this partie of thair it is    320That men fulofte sen be nyhteThe fyr in sondri forme alyhte.Somtime the fyrdrake it semeth,And so the lewed poeple it demeth;Somtime it semeth as it wereA Sterre, which that glydeth there:Bot it is nouther of the tuo,The Philosophre telleth so,And seith that of impressionsThurgh diverse exalacions    330Upon the cause and the matiereMen sen diverse forme appiereOf fyr, the which hath sondri name.

Assub, he seith, is thilke same,The which in sondry place is founde,Whanne it is falle doun to grounde,So as the fyr it hath aneled,Lich unto slym which is congeled.

Of exalacion I findeFyr kinled of the fame kinde,    340Bot it is of an other forme;Wherof, if that I schal conformeThe figure unto that it is,These olde clerkes tellen this,That it is lik a Got skippende,And for that it is such semende,It hatte Capra saliens.

And ek these AstronomiensAn other fyr also, be nyhteWhich scheweth him to mannes syhte,    350Thei clepen Eges, the which brennethLik to the corrant fyr that rennethUpon a corde, as thou hast sein,Whan it with poudre is so beseinOf Sulphre and othre thinges mo.

Ther is an other fyr also,Which semeth to a mannes yheBe nyhtes time as thogh ther flyheA dragon brennende in the Sky,And that is cleped proprely    360Daaly, wherof men sein fulofte,“Lo, wher the fyri drake alofteFleth up in thair!” and so thei demen.Bot why the fyres suche semenOf sondri formes to beholde,The wise Philosophre tolde,So as tofore it hath ben herd.

Lo thus, my Sone, hou it hath ferd:Of Air the due propreteIn sondri wise thou myht se,    370And hou under the firmamentIt is ek the thridde element,Which environeth bothe tuo,The water and the lond also.

And forto tellen overthisOf elementz which the ferthe is,That is the fyr in his degre,Which environeth thother threAnd is withoute moist al drye.Bot lest nou what seith the clergie;    380For upon hem that I have seidThe creatour hath set and leidThe kinde and the complexionOf alle mennes nacion.Foure elementz sondri ther be,Lich unto whiche of that degreAmong the men ther ben alsoComplexions foure and nomo,Wherof the Philosophre treteth,That he nothing behinde leteth,    390And seith hou that thei ben diverse,So as I schal to thee reherse.

He which natureth every kinde,The myhti god, so as I finde,Of    man, which is his creature,Hath so devided the nature,That non til other wel acordeth:And be the cause it so discordeth,The lif which fieleth the seknesseMai stonde upon no sekernesse.    400

Of therthe, which is cold and drye,The kinde of man MalencolieIs cleped, and that is the ferste,The most ungoodlich and the werste;For unto loves werk on nyhtHim lacketh bothe will and myht:No wonder is, in lusty placeOf love though he lese grace.What man hath that complexion,Full of ymaginacion    410Of dredes and of wrathful thoghtes,He fret himselven al to noghtes.

The water, which is moyste and cold,Makth fleume, which is manyfoldForyetel, slou and wery soneOf every thing which is to done:He is of kinde sufficantTo holde love his covenant,Bot that him lacketh appetit,Which longeth unto such delit.    420

What man that takth his kinde of thair,He schal be lyht, he schal be fair,For his complexion is blood.Of alle ther is non so good,For he hath bothe will and myhtTo plese and paie love his riht:Wher as he hath love undertake,Wrong is if that he be forsake.

The fyr of his condicionAppropreth the complexion    430Which in a man is Colre hote,Whos propretes ben dreie and hote:It makth a man ben enginousAnd swift of fote and ek irous;Of contek and folhastifnesseHe hath a riht gret besinesse,To thenke of love and litel may:Though he behote wel a day,On nyht whan that he wole assaie,He may ful evele his dette paie.    440

After the kinde of thelement,Thus stant a mannes kinde went,As touchende his complexion,Upon sondri divisionOf dreie, of moiste, of chele, of hete,And ech of hem his oghne seteAppropred hath withinne a man.And ferst to telle as I began,

The Splen is to Malencolie Assigned for herbergerie: 450

The moiste fleume with his coldHath in the lunges for his holdOrdeined him a propre stede,To duelle ther as he is bede:

To the Sanguin complexionNature of hire inspeccionA propre hous hath in the livereFor his duellinge mad delivere:

The dreie Colre with his heteBe weie of kinde his propre sete    460Hath in the galle, wher he duelleth,So as the Philosophre telleth.

Nou over this is forto wite,As it is in Phisique writeOf livere, of lunge, of galle, of splen,Thei alle unto the herte benServantz, and ech in his officeEntendeth to don him service,As he which is chief lord above.The livere makth him forto love,    470The lunge yifth him weie of speche,The galle serveth to do wreche,The Splen doth him to lawhe and pleie,Whan al unclennesse is aweie:Lo, thus hath ech of hem his dede.And to sustienen hem and fedeIn time of recreacion,Nature hath in creacionThe Stomach for a comun CocOrdeined, so as seith the boc.    480The Stomach coc is for the halle,And builleth mete for hem alle,To make hem myghty forto serveThe herte, that he schal noght sterve:For as a king in his EmpireAbove alle othre is lord and Sire,So is the herte principal,To whom reson in specialIs yove as for the governance.

And thus nature his pourveance    490Hath mad for man to liven hiere;Bot god, which hath the Soule diere,Hath formed it in other wise.That can noman pleinli devise;Bot as the clerkes ous enforme,That lich to god it hath a forme,Thurgh which figure and which liknesseThe Soule hath many an hyh noblesseAppropred to his oghne kinde.Bot ofte hir wittes be mad blinde    500Al onliche of this ilke point,That hir abydinge is conjointForth with the bodi forto duelle:That on desireth toward helle,That other upward to the hevene;So schul thei nevere stonde in evene,Bot if the fleissh be overcomeAnd that the Soule have holi nomeThe governance, and that is selde,Whil that the fleissh him mai bewelde.    510Al erthli thing which god beganWas only mad to serve man;Bot he the Soule al only madeHimselven forto serve and glade.Alle othre bestes that men findeThei serve unto here oghne kinde,Bot to reson the Soule serveth;Wherof the man his thonk deservethAnd get him with hise werkes goodeThe perdurable lyves foode.    520

Of what matiere it schal be told,A tale lyketh manyfoldThe betre, if it be spoke plein:Thus thinke I forto torne ayeinAnd telle plenerly therforeOf therthe, wherof nou toforeI spak, and of the water eke,So as these olde clerkes spieke,And sette proprely the boundeAfter the forme of Mappemounde,    530Thurgh which the ground be pourpartiesDeparted is in thre parties,That is Asie, Aufrique, Europe,The whiche under the hevene cope,Als ferr as streccheth eny ground,Begripeth al this Erthe round.Bot after that the hihe wriecheThe water weies let out secheAnd overgo the helles hye,Which every kinde made dye    540That upon Middelerthe stod,Outake Noë and his blod,His Sones and his doughtres thre,Thei were sauf and so was he;—Here names who that rede rihte,Sem, Cam, Japhet the brethren hihte;—And whanne thilke almyhty hondWithdrouh the water fro the lond,And al the rage was aweie,And Erthe was the mannes weie,    550The Sones thre, of whiche I tolde,Riht after that hemselve wolde,This world departe thei begonne.

Asie, which lay to the SonneUpon the Marche of orient,Was graunted be comun assentTo Sem, which was the Sone eldeste;For that partie was the besteAnd double as moche as othre tuo.And was that time bounded so;    560Wher as the flod which men Nil callethDeparteth fro his cours and fallethInto the See Alexandrine,Ther takth Asie ferst seisineToward the West, and over thisOf Canahim wher the flod isInto the grete See rennende,Fro that into the worldes endeEstward, Asie it is algates,Til that men come unto the gates    570Of Paradis, and there ho.And schortly for to speke it so,Of Orient in generalWithinne his bounde Asie hath al.

And thanne upon that other sydeWestward, as it fell thilke tyde,The brother which was hote ChamUpon his part Aufrique nam.Japhet Europe tho tok he,Thus parten thei the world on thre.    580Bot yit ther ben of londes feleIn occident as for the chele,In orient as for the hete,Which of the poeple be forleteAs lond desert that is unable,For it mai noght ben habitable.

The water eke hath sondri bounde,After the lond wher it is founde,And takth his name of thilke londesWher that it renneth on the strondes:    590Bot thilke See which hath no waneIs cleped the gret Occeane,Out of the which arise and comeThe hyhe flodes alle and some;Is non so litel welle spring,Which ther ne takth his beginnyng,And lich a man that haleth brethBe weie of kinde, so it gethOut of the See and in ayein,The water, as the bokes sein.    600

Of Elementz the propretesHou that they stonden be degres,As I have told, nou myht thou hiere,Mi goode Sone, al the matiereOf Erthe, of water, Air and fyr.And for thou saist that thi desirIs forto witen overmoreThe forme of Aristotles lore,He seith in his entendement,That yit ther is an Element    610Above the foure, and is the fifte,Set of the hihe goddes yifte,The which that Orbis cleped is.And therupon he telleth this,That as the schelle hol and soundEncloseth al aboute roundWhat thing withinne an Ey belongeth,Riht so this Orbis underfongethThese elementz alle everychon,Which I have spoke of on and on.    620

Bot overthis nou tak good hiede,Mi Sone, for I wol procedeTo speke upon Mathematique,Which grounded is on Theorique.The science of AstronomieI thinke forto specefie,Withoute which, to telle plein,Alle othre science is in veinToward the scole of erthli thinges:For as an Egle with his winges    630Fleth above alle that men finde,So doth this science in his kinde.

Benethe upon this Erthe hiereOf alle thinges the matiere,As tellen ous thei that ben lerned,Of thing above it stant governed,That is to sein of the Planetes.The cheles bothe and ek the hetes,The chances of the world also,That we fortune clepen so,    640Among the mennes nacionAl is thurgh constellacion,Wherof that som man hath the wele,And som man hath deseses feleIn love als wel as othre thinges;The stat of realmes and of kingesIn time of pes, in time of werreIt is conceived of the Sterre:And thus seith the naturienWhich is an Astronomien.    650Bot the divin seith otherwise,That if men weren goode and wiseAnd plesant unto the godhede,Thei scholden noght the sterres drede;For o man, if him wel befalle,Is more worth than ben thei alleTowardes him that weldeth al.Bot yit the lawe original,Which he hath set in the natures,Mot worchen in the creatures,    660That therof mai be non obstacle,Bot if it stonde upon miracleThurgh preiere of som holy man.And forthi, so as I beganTo speke upon Astronomie,As it is write in the clergie,To telle hou the planetes fare,Som part I thenke to declare,Mi Sone, unto thin Audience.

Astronomie is the science    670Of wisdom and of hih connynge,Which makth a man have knowlechingeOf Sterres in the firmament,Figure, cercle and moevementOf ech of hem in sondri place,And what betwen hem is of space,Hou so thei moeve or stonde faste,Al this it telleth to the laste.

Assembled with AstronomieIs ek that ilke Astrologie    680The which in juggementz acomptethTheffect, what every sterre amonteth,And hou thei causen many a wonderTo tho climatz that stonde hem under.

And forto telle it more plein,These olde philosphres seinThat Orbis, which I spak of err,Is that which we fro therthe a ferrBeholde, and firmament it calle,In which the sterres stonden alle,    690Among the whiche in specialPlanetes sefne principalTher ben, that mannes sihte demeth,Bot thorizonte, as to ous semeth.And also ther ben signes tuelve,Whiche have her cercles be hemselveCompassed in the zodiaque,In which thei have here places take.And as thei stonden in degre,Here cercles more or lasse be,    700Mad after the proporcionOf therthe, whos condicionIs set to be the foundementTo sustiene up the firmament.And be this skile a man mai knowe,The more that thei stonden lowe,The more ben the cercles lasse;That causeth why that some passeHere due cours tofore an other.Bot nou, mi lieve dere brother,    710As thou desirest forto witeWhat I finde in the bokes write,To telle of the planetes sevene,Hou that thei stonde upon the heveneAnd in what point that thei ben inne,Tak hiede, for I wol beginne,So as the Philosophre tauhteTo Alisandre and it betauhte,Wherof that he was fulli tawhtOf wisdom, which was him betawht.    720

Benethe alle othre stant the Mone,The which hath with the See to done:Of flodes hihe and ebbes loweUpon his change it schal be knowe;And every fissh which hath a schelleMot in his governance duelle,To wexe and wane in his degre,As be the Mone a man mai se;And al that stant upon the groundeOf his moisture it mot be founde.    730Alle othre sterres, as men finde,Be schynende of here oghne kindeOutake only the monelyht,Which is noght of himselve bright,Bot as he takth it of the Sonne.And yit he hath noght al fulwonneHis lyht, that he nys somdiel derk;Bot what the lette is of that werkIn Almageste it telleth this:The Mones cercle so lowe is,    740Wherof the Sonne out of his stageNe seth him noght with full visage,For he is with the ground beschaded,So that the Mone is somdiel fadedAnd may noght fully schyne cler.Bot what man under his pouerIs bore, he schal his places changeAnd seche manye londes strange:And as of this condicionThe Mones disposicion    750Upon the lond of AlemaigneIs set, and ek upon Bretaigne,Which nou is cleped Engelond;For thei travaile in every lond.

Of the Planetes the secoundeAbove the Mone hath take his bounde,Mercurie, and his nature is this,That under him who that bore is,In boke he schal be studiousAnd in wrytinge curious,    760And slouh and lustles to travaileIn thing which elles myhte availe:He loveth ese, he loveth reste,So is he noght the worthieste;Bot yit with somdiel besinesseHis herte is set upon richesse.And as in this condicion,Theffect and disposicionOf this Planete and of his chanceIs most in Burgoigne and in France.    770

Next to Mercurie, as wol befalle,Stant that Planete which men calleVenus, whos constellacionGoverneth al the nacionOf lovers, wher thei spiede or non,Of whiche I trowe thou be on:Bot whiderward thin happes wende,Schal this planete schewe at ende,As it hath do to many mo,To some wel, to some wo.    780And natheles of this PlaneteThe moste part is softe and swete;For who that therof takth his berthe,He schal desire joie and merthe,Gentil, courteis and debonaire,To speke his wordes softe and faire,Such schal he be be weie of kinde,And overal wher he may findePlesance of love, his herte bowethWith al his myht and there he woweth.    790He is so ferforth Amourous,He not what thing is viciousTouchende love, for that laweTher mai no maner man withdrawe,The which venerien is boreBe weie of kinde, and thereforeVenus of love the goddesseIs cleped: bot of wantounesseThe climat of hir lecherieIs most commun in Lombardie.    800

Next unto this Planete of loveThe brighte Sonne stant above,Which is the hindrere of the nyhtAnd forthrere of the daies lyht,As he which is the worldes ije,Thurgh whom the lusti compaignieOf foules be the morwe singe,The freisshe floures sprede and springe,The hihe tre the ground beschadeth,And every mannes herte gladeth.    810And for it is the hed Planete,Hou that he sitteth in his sete,Of what richesse, of what nobleie,These bokes telle, and thus thei seie.

Of gold glistrende Spoke and whielThe Sonne his carte hath faire and wiel,In which he sitt, and is coronedWith brighte stones environed;Of whiche if that I speke schal,Ther be tofore in special    820Set in the front of his coroneThre Stones, whiche no personeHath upon Erthe, and the ferste isBe name cleped Licuchis;That othre tuo be cleped thus,Astrices and Ceramius.In his corone also behinde,Be olde bokes as I finde,Ther ben of worthi Stones threSet ech of hem in his degre:    830Wherof a Cristall is that on,Which that corone is set upon;The seconde is an Adamant;The thridde is noble and avenant,Which cleped is Ydriades.And over this yit nathelesUpon the sydes of the werk,After the wrytinge of the clerk,Ther sitten fyve Stones mo:The smaragdine is on of tho,    840Jaspis and ElitropiusAnd Dendides and Jacinctus.Lo, thus the corone is beset,Wherof it schyneth wel the bet;And in such wise his liht to spredeSit with his Diademe on hedeThe Sonne schynende in his carte.And forto lede him swithe and smarteAfter the bryhte daies lawe,Ther ben ordeined forto drawe    850Foure hors his Char and him withal,Wherof the names telle I schal:Eritheüs the ferste is hote,The which is red and schyneth hote,The seconde Acteos the bryhte,Lampes the thridde coursier hihte,And Philogeus is the ferthe,That bringen lyht unto this erthe,And gon so swift upon the hevene,In foure and twenty houres evene    860The carte with the bryhte SonneThei drawe, so that overronneThei have under the cercles hiheAl Middelerthe in such an hye.And thus the Sonne is overalThe chief Planete imperial,Above him and benethe him thre:And thus betwen hem regneth he,As he that hath the middel placeAmong the Sevene, and of his face    870Be glade alle erthly creatures,And taken after the naturesHere ese and recreacion.And in his constellacionWho that is bore in special,Of good will and of liberalHe schal be founde in alle place,And also stonde in mochel graceToward the lordes forto serveAnd gret profit and thonk deserve.    880And over that it causeth yitA man to be soubtil of witTo worche in gold, and to be wysIn every thing which is of pris.Bot forto speken in what costOf al this erthe he regneth mostAs for wisdom, it is in Grece,Wher is apropred thilke spiece.

Mars the Planete bataillousNext to the Sonne glorious    890Above stant, and doth mervailesUpon the fortune of batailes.The conquerours be daies oldeWere unto this planete holde:Bot who that his nativiteHath take upon the propreteOf Martes disposiciounBe weie of constellacioun,He schal be fiers and folhastifAnd desirous of werre and strif.    900Bot forto telle redelyIn what climat most comunlyThat this planete hath his effect,Seid is that he hath his aspectUpon the holi lond so cast,That there is no pes stedefast.

Above Mars upon the hevene,The sexte Planete of the sevene,Stant Jupiter the delicat,Which causeth pes and no debat.    910For he is cleped that PlaneteWhich of his kinde softe and sweteAttempreth al that to him longeth;And whom this planete underfongethTo stonde upon his regiment,He schal be meke and pacientAnd fortunat to MarchandieAnd lusti to delicacieIn every thing which he schal do.This Jupiter is cause also    920Of the science of lyhte werkes,And in this wise tellen clerkesHe is the Planete of delices.Bot in Egipte of his officesHe regneth most in special:For ther be lustes overalOf al that to this lif befalleth;For ther no stormy weder falleth,Which myhte grieve man or beste,And ek the lond is so honeste    930That it is plentevous and plein,Ther is non ydel ground in vein;And upon such feliciteStant Jupiter in his degre.

The heyeste and aboven alleStant that planete which men calleSaturnus, whos complexionIs cold, and his condicionCauseth malice and crualteTo him the whos nativite    940Is set under his governance.For alle hise werkes ben grevanceAnd enemy to mannes hele,In what degre that he schal dele.His climat is in Orient,Wher that he is most violent.

Of the Planetes by and by,Hou that thei stonde upon the Sky,Fro point to point as thou myht hiere,Was Alisandre mad to liere.    950Bot overthis touchende his lore,Of thing that thei him tawhte moreUpon the scoles of clergieNow herkne the Philosophie.

He which departeth dai fro nyht,That on derk and that other lyht,Of sevene daies made a weke,A Monthe of foure wekes ekeHe hath ordeigned in his lawe,Of Monthes tuelve and ek forthdrawe    960He hath also the longe yeer.And as he sette of his pouerAcordant to the daies sevenePlanetes Sevene upon the hevene,As thou tofore hast herd devise,To speke riht in such a wise,To every Monthe be himselveUpon the hevene of Signes tuelveHe hath after his OrdinalAssigned on in special,    970Wherof, so as I schal rehersen,The tydes of the yer diversen.Bot pleinly forto make it knoweHou that the Signes sitte arowe,Ech after other be degreIn substance and in propreteThe zodiaque comprehendethWithinne his cercle, as it appendeth.

The ferste of whiche nathelesBe name is cleped Aries,    980Which lich a wether of statureResembled is in his figure.And as it seith in Almageste,Of Sterres tuelve upon this besteBen set, wherof in his degreThe wombe hath tuo, the heved hath thre,The Tail hath sevene, and in this wise,As thou myht hiere me divise,Stant Aries, which hot and dryeIs of himself, and in partie    990He is the receipte and the housOf myhty Mars the bataillous.And overmore ek, as I finde,The creatour of alle kindeUpon this Signe ferst beganThe world, whan that he made man.And of this constellaciounThe verray operaciounAvaileth, if a man therinneThe pourpos of his werk beginne;    1000For thanne he hath of propreteGood sped and gret felicite.

The tuelve Monthes of the yeerAttitled under the pouerOf these tuelve Signes stonde;Wherof that thou schalt understondeThis Aries on of the tuelveHath March attitled for himselve,Whan every bridd schal chese his make,And every neddre and every Snake    1010And every Reptil which mai moeve,His myht assaieth forto proeve,To crepen out ayein the Sonne,Whan Ver his Seson hath begonne.

Taurus the seconde after thisOf Signes, which figured isUnto a Bole, is dreie and cold;And as it is in bokes told,He is the hous appourtienantTo Venus, somdiel descordant.    1020This Bole is ek with sterres set,Thurgh whiche he hath hise hornes knetUnto the tail of Aries,So is he noght ther sterreles.Upon his brest ek eyhtetieneHe hath, and ek, as it is sene,Upon his tail stonde othre tuo.His Monthe assigned ek alsoIs Averil, which of his schouresMinistreth weie unto the floures.    1030

The thridde signe is Gemini,Which is figured redelyLich to tuo twinnes of mankinde,That naked stonde; and as I finde,Thei be with Sterres wel bego:The heved hath part of thilke tuoThat schyne upon the boles tail,So be thei bothe of o parail;But on the wombe of GeminiBen fyve sterres noght forthi,    1040And ek upon the feet be tweie,So as these olde bokes seie,That wise Tholomeus wrot.His propre Monthe wel I wotAssigned is the lusti Maii,Whanne every brid upon his layAmong the griene leves singeth,And love of his pointure stingethAfter the lawes of natureThe youthe of every creature.    1050

Cancer after the reule and spaceOf Signes halt the ferthe place.Like to the crabbe he hath semblance,And hath unto his retienanceSextiene sterres, wherof ten,So as these olde wise menDescrive, he berth on him tofore,And in the middel tuo be bore,And foure he hath upon his ende.Thus goth he sterred in his kende,    1060And of himself is moiste and cold,And is the propre hous and holdWhich appartieneth to the Mone,And doth what longeth him to done.The Monthe of Juin unto this SigneThou schalt after the reule assigne.

The fifte Signe is Leo hote,Whos kinde is schape dreie and hote,In whom the Sonne hath herbergage.And the semblance of his ymage    1070Is a leoun, which in baillieOf sterres hath his pourpartie:The foure, which as Cancer hathUpon his ende, Leo tathUpon his heved, and thanne nestHe hath ek foure upon his brest,And on upon his tail behinde,In olde bokes as we finde.His propre Monthe is Juyl be name,In which men pleien many a game.    1080

After Leo Virgo the nexteOf Signes cleped is the sexte,Wherof the figure is a Maide;And as the Philosophre saide,Sche is the welthe and the risinge,The lust, the joie and the likingeUnto Mercurie: and soth to seieSche is with sterres wel beseie,Wherof Leo hath lent hire on,Which sit on hih hir heved upon,    1090Hire wombe hath fyve, hir feet alsoHave other fyve: and overmoTouchende as of complexion,Be kindly disposicionOf dreie and cold this Maiden is.And forto tellen over thisHir Monthe, thou schalt understonde,Whan every feld hath corn in hondeAnd many a man his bak hath plied,Unto this Signe is Augst applied.    1100

After Virgo to reknen eveneLibra sit in the nombre of sevene,Which hath figure and resemblanceUnto a man which a balanceBerth in his hond as forto weie:In boke and as it mai be seie,Diverse sterres to him longeth,Wherof on hevede he underfongethFerst thre, and ek his wombe hath tuo,And doun benethe eighte othre mo.    1110This Signe is hot and moiste bothe,The whiche thinges be noght lotheUnto Venus, so that alofteSche resteth in his hous fulofte,And ek Saturnus often hyedIs in this Signe and magnefied.His propre Monthe is seid Septembre,Which yifth men cause to remembre,If eny Sor be left behindeOf thing which grieve mai to kinde.    1120

Among the Signes upon heighteThe Signe which is nombred eighteIs Scorpio, which as felounFigured is a Scorpioun.Bot for al that yit nathelesIs Scorpio noght sterreles;For Libra granteth him his endeOf eighte sterres, wher he wende,The whiche upon his heved assisedHe berth, and ek ther ben divised    1130Upon his wombe sterres thre,And eighte upon his tail hath he.Which of his kinde is moiste and coldAnd unbehovely manyfold;He harmeth Venus and empeireth,Bot Mars unto his hous repeireth,Bot war whan thei togedre duellen.His propre Monthe is, as men tellen,Octobre, which bringth the kalendeOf wynter, that comth next suiende.    1140

The nynthe Signe in nombre also,Which folweth after Scorpio,Is cleped Sagittarius,The whos figure is marked thus,A Monstre with a bowe on honde:On whom that sondri sterres stonde,Thilke eighte of whiche I spak tofore,The whiche upon the tail ben boreOf Scorpio, the heved al faireBespreden of the Sagittaire;    1150And eighte of othre stonden eveneUpon his wombe, and othre seveneTher stonde upon his tail behinde.And he is hot and dreie of kinde:To Jupiter his hous is fre,Bot to Mercurie in his degre,For thei ben noght of on assent,He worcheth gret empeirement.This Signe hath of his propreteA Monthe, which of duete    1160After the sesoun that befallethThe Plowed Oxe in wynter stalleth;And fyr into the halle he bringeth,And thilke drinke of which men singeth,He torneth must into the wyn;Thanne is the larder of the swyn;That is Novembre which I meene,Whan that the lef hath lost his greene.

The tenthe Signe dreie and cold,The which is Capricornus told,    1170Unto a Got hath resemblance:For whos love and whos aqueintanceWithinne hise houses to sojorneIt liketh wel unto Satorne,Bot to the Mone it liketh noght,For no profit is there wroght.This Signe as of his propreteUpon his heved hath sterres thre,And ek upon his wombe tuo,And tweie upon his tail also.    1180Decembre after the yeeres forme,So as the bokes ous enforme,With daies schorte and nyhtes longeThis ilke Signe hath underfonge.

Of tho that sitte upon the heveneOf Signes in the nombre elleveneAquarius hath take his place,And stant wel in Satornes grace,Which duelleth in his herbergage,Bot to the Sonne he doth oultrage.    1190This Signe is verraily resembledLich to a man which halt assembledIn eyther hand a water spoute,Wherof the stremes rennen oute.He is of kinde moiste and hot,And he that of the sterres wotSeith that he hath of sterres tuoUpon his heved, and ben of thoThat Capricorn hath on his ende;And as the bokes maken mende,    1200That Tholomeus made himselve,He hath ek on his wombe tuelve,And tweie upon his ende stonde.Thou schalt also this understonde,The frosti colde Janever,Whan comen is the newe yeer,That Janus with his double faceIn his chaiere hath take his placeAnd loketh upon bothe sides,Somdiel toward the wynter tydes,    1210Somdiel toward the yeer suiende,That is the Monthe belongendeUnto this Signe, and of his doleHe yifth the ferste Primerole.

The tuelfthe, which is last of alleOf Signes, Piscis men it calle,The which, as telleth the scripture,Berth of tuo fisshes the figure.So is he cold and moiste of kinde,And ek with sterres, as I finde,    1220Beset in sondri wise, as thus:Tuo of his ende AquariusHath lent unto his heved, and tuoThis Signe hath of his oghne alsoUpon his wombe, and over thisUpon his ende also ther isA nombre of twenty sterres bryghte,Which is to sen a wonder sighte.Toward this Signe into his housComth Jupiter the glorious,    1230And Venus ek with him acordethTo duellen, as the bok recordeth.The Monthe unto this Signe ordeinedIs Februer, which is bereined,And with londflodes in his rageAt Fordes letteth the passage.

Nou hast thou herd the propreteOf Signes, bot in his degreAlbumazar yit over thisSeith, so as therthe parted is    1240In foure, riht so ben divisedThe Signes tuelve and stonde assised,That ech of hem for his partieHath his climat to justefie.Wherof the ferste regimentToward the part of OrientFrom Antioche and that contreGoverned is of Signes thre,That is Cancer, Virgo, Leo:And toward Occident also    1250From Armenie, as I am lerned,Of Capricorn it stant governed,Of Pisces and Aquarius:And after hem I finde thus,Southward from Alisandre forthTho Signes whiche most ben worthIn governance of that doaire,Libra thei ben and SagittaireWith Scorpio, which is conjointWith hem to stonde upon that point:    1260Constantinople the Cite,So as the bokes tellen me,The laste of this divisionStant untoward Septemtrion,Wher as be weie of pourveanceHath Aries the governanceForth with Taurus and Gemini.Thus ben the Signes propreliDivided, as it is reherced,Wherof the londes ben diversed.    1270

Lo thus, mi Sone, as thou myht hiere,Was Alisandre mad to liereOf hem that weren for his lore.But nou to loken overmore,Of othre sterres hou thei fareI thenke hierafter to declare,So as king Alisandre in youtheOf him that suche thinges coutheEnformed was tofore his yheBe nyhte upon the sterres hihe.    1280

Upon sondri creacionStant sondri operacion,Som worcheth this, som worcheth that;The fyr is hot in his astatAnd brenneth what he mai atteigne,The water mai the fyr restreigne,The which is cold and moist also.Of other thing it farth riht soUpon this erthe among ous here;And forto speke in this manere,    1290Upon the hevene, as men mai finde,The sterres ben of sondri kindeAnd worchen manye sondri thingesTo ous, that ben here underlinges.Among the whiche forth withalNectanabus in special,Which was an AstronomienAnd ek a gret Magicien,And undertake hath thilke empriseTo Alisandre in his aprise    1300As of Magique naturelTo knowe, enformeth him somdelOf certein sterres what thei mene;Of whiche, he seith, ther ben fiftene,And sondrily to everich onA gras belongeth and a Ston,Wherof men worchen many a wonderTo sette thing bothe up and under.

To telle riht as he began,The ferste sterre Aldeboran,    1310The cliereste and the moste of alle,Be rihte name men it calle;Which lich is of condicionTo Mars, and of complexionTo Venus, and hath theruponCarbunculum his propre Ston:His herbe is Anabulla named,Which is of gret vertu proclamed.

The seconde is noght vertules;Clota or elles Pliades    1320It hatte, and of the mones kindeHe is, and also this I finde,He takth of Mars complexion:And lich to such condicionHis Ston appropred is Cristall,And ek his herbe in specialThe vertuous Fenele it is.

The thridde, which comth after this,Is hote Algol the clere rede,Which of Satorne, as I may rede,    1330His kinde takth, and ek of JoveComplexion to his behove.His propre Ston is Dyamant,Which is to him most acordant;His herbe, which is him betake,Is hote Eleborum the blake.

So as it falleth upon lot,The ferthe sterre is Alhaiot,Which in the wise as I seide erOf Satorne and of Jupiter    1340Hath take his kinde; and theruponThe Saphir is his propre Ston,Marrubium his herbe also,The whiche acorden bothe tuo.

And Canis maior in his likeThe fifte sterre is of Magique,The whos kinde is venerien,As seith this Astronomien.His propre Ston is seid Berille,Bot forto worche and to fulfille    1350Thing which to this science falleth,Ther is an herbe which men callethSaveine, and that behoveth nedeTo him that wole his pourpos spede.

The sexte suiende after thisBe name Canis minor is;The which sterre is MercurialBe weie of kinde, and forth withal,As it is writen in the carte,Complexion he takth of Marte.    1360His Ston and herbe, as seith the Scole,Ben Achates and Primerole.

The sefnthe sterre in specialOf this science is Arial,Which sondri nature underfongeth.The Ston which propre unto him longeth,Gorgonza proprely it hihte:His herbe also, which he schal rihteUpon the worchinge as I mene,Is Celidoine freissh and grene.    1370

Sterre Ala Corvi upon heihteHath take his place in nombre of eighte,Which of his kinde mot parforneThe will of Marte and of Satorne:To whom Lapacia the greteIs herbe, bot of no beyete;His Ston is Honochinus hote,Thurgh which men worchen gret riote.

The nynthe sterre faire and welBe name is hote Alaezel,    1380Which takth his propre kinde thusBothe of Mercurie and of Venus.His Ston is the grene Amyraude,To whom is yoven many a laude:Salge is his herbe appourtenantAboven al the rememant.

The tenthe sterre is Almareth,Which upon lif and upon dethThurgh kinde of Jupiter and MartHe doth what longeth to his part.    1390His Ston is Jaspe, and of PlanteineHe hath his herbe sovereine.

The sterre ellefthe is Venenas,The whos nature is as it wasTake of Venus and of the Mone,In thing which he hath forto done.Of Adamant is that perrieIn which he worcheth his maistrie;Thilke herbe also which him befalleth,Cicorea the bok it calleth.    1400

Alpheta in the nombre sit,And is the twelfthe sterre yit;Of Scorpio which is governed,And takth his kinde, as I am lerned;And hath his vertu in the StonWhich cleped is Topazion:His herbe propre is Rosmarine,Which schapen is for his covine.

Of these sterres, whiche I mene,Cor Scorpionis is thritiene;    1410The whos nature Mart and JoveHave yoven unto his behove.His herbe is Aristologie,Which folweth his Astronomie:The Ston which that this sterre alloweth,Is Sardis, which unto him boweth.

The sterre which stant next the laste,Nature on him this name casteAnd clepeth him Botercadent;Which of his kinde obedient    1420Is to Mercurie and to Venus.His Ston is seid Crisolitus,His herbe is cleped Satureie,So as these olde bokes seie.

Bot nou the laste sterre of alleThe tail of Scorpio men calle,Which to Mercurie and to SatorneBe weie of kinde mot retorneAfter the preparacionOf due constellacion.    1430The Calcedoine unto him longeth,Which for his Ston he underfongeth;Of Majorane his herbe is grounded.Thus have I seid hou thei be founded,Of every sterre in special,Which hath his herbe and Ston withal,As Hermes in his bokes oldeWitnesse berth of that I tolde.

The science of Astronomie,Which principal is of clergie    1440To dieme betwen wo and welIn thinges that be naturel,Thei hadde a gret travail on hondeThat made it ferst ben understonde;And thei also which overmoreHere studie sette upon this lore,Thei weren gracious and wysAnd worthi forto bere a pris.And whom it liketh forto witeOf hem that this science write,    1450On of the ferste which it wrotAfter Noë, it was Nembrot,To his disciple YchonithonAnd made a bok forth theruponThe which Megaster cleped was.An other Auctor in this casIs Arachel, the which men note;His bok is Abbategnyh hote.Danz Tholome is noght the leste,Which makth the bok of Almageste;    1460And Alfraganus doth the same,Whos bok is Chatemuz be name.Gebuz and Alpetragus ekeOf Planisperie, which men seke,The bokes made: and over thisFul many a worthi clerc ther is,That writen upon this clergieThe bokes of Altemetrie,Planemetrie and ek also,Whiche as belongen bothe tuo,    1470So as thei ben naturiens,Unto these Astronomiens.Men sein that Habraham was on;Bot whether that he wrot or non,That finde I noght; and MoisesEk was an other: bot HermesAbove alle othre in this scienceHe hadde a gret experience;Thurgh him was many a sterre assised,Whos bokes yit ben auctorized.    1480I mai noght knowen alle thoThat writen in the time thoOf this science; bot I finde,Of jugement be weie of kindeThat in o point thei alle acorden:Of sterres whiche thei recordenThat men mai sen upon the hevene,Ther ben a thousend sterres eveneAnd tuo and twenty, to the syhteWhiche aren of hemself so bryhte,    1490That men mai dieme what thei be,The nature and the proprete.

Nou hast thou herd, in which a wiseThese noble Philosophres wiseEnformeden this yonge king,And made him have a knowlechingOf thing which ferst to the partieBelongeth of Philosophie,Which Theorique cleped is,As thou tofore hast herd er this.    1500Bot nou to speke of the secounde,Which Aristotle hath also founde,And techeth hou to speke faire,Which is a thing full necessaireTo contrepeise the balance,Wher lacketh other sufficance.

Above alle erthli creaturesThe hihe makere of naturesThe word to man hath yove alone,So that the speche of his persone,    1510Or forto lese or forto winne,The hertes thoght which is withinneMai schewe, what it wolde mene;And that is noghwhere elles seneOf kinde with non other beste.So scholde he be the more honeste,To whom god yaf so gret a yifte,And loke wel that he ne schifteHise wordes to no wicked us;For word the techer of vertus    1520Is cleped in Philosophie.Wherof touchende this partie,Is Rethorique the scienceAppropred to the reverenceOf wordes that ben resonable:And for this art schal be vailableWith goodli wordes forto like,It hath Gramaire, it hath Logiqe,That serven bothe unto the speche.Gramaire ferste hath forto teche    1530To speke upon congruite:Logique hath eke in his degreBetwen the trouthe and the falshodeThe pleine wordes forto schode,So that nothing schal go beside,That he the riht ne schal decide.Wherof full many a gret debatReformed is to good astat,And pes sustiened up alofteWith esy wordes and with softe,    1540Wher strengthe scholde lete it falle.The Philosophre amonges alleForthi commendeth this science,Which hath the reule of eloquence.

In Ston and gras vertu ther is,Bot yit the bokes tellen this,That word above alle erthli thingesIs vertuous in his doinges,Wher so it be to evele or goode.For if the wordes semen goode    1550And ben wel spoke at mannes Ere,Whan that ther is no trouthe there,Thei don fulofte gret deceipte;For whan the word to the conceipteDescordeth in so double a wise,Such Rethorique is to despiseIn every place, and forto drede.For of Uluxes thus I rede,As in the bok of Troie is founde,His eloquence and his facounde    1560Of goodly wordes whiche he tolde,Hath mad that Anthenor him soldeThe toun, which he with tresoun wan.Word hath beguiled many a man;With word the wilde beste is daunted,With word the Serpent is enchaunted,Of word among the men of ArmesBen woundes heeled with the charmes,Wher lacketh other medicine;Word hath under his discipline    1570Of Sorcerie the karectes.The wordes ben of sondri sectes,Of evele and eke of goode also;The wordes maken frend of fo,And fo of frend, and pes of werre,And werre of pes, and out of herreThe word this worldes cause entriketh,And reconsileth whan him liketh.The word under the coupe of heveneSet every thing or odde or evene;    1580With word the hihe god is plesed,With word the wordes ben appesed,The softe word the loude stilleth;Wher lacketh good, the word fulfilleth,To make amendes for the wrong;Whan wordes medlen with the song,It doth plesance wel the more.

Bot forto loke upon the loreHou Tullius his RethoriqueComponeth, ther a man mai pike    1590Hou that he schal hise wordes sette,Hou he schal lose, hou he schal knette,And in what wise he schal pronounceHis tale plein withoute frounce.Wherof ensample if thou wolt seche,Tak hiede and red whilom the specheOf Julius and Cithero,Which consul was of Rome tho,Of Catoun eke and of Cillene,Behold the wordes hem betwene,    1600Whan the tresoun of CatelineDescoevered was, and the covineOf hem that were of his assentWas knowe and spoke in parlement,And axed hou and in what wiseMen scholde don hem to juise.Cillenus ferst his tale tolde,To trouthe and as he was beholde,The comun profit forto save,He seide hou tresoun scholde have    1610A cruel deth; and thus thei spieke,The Consul bothe and Catoun eke,And seiden that for such a wrongTher mai no peine be to strong.Bot Julius with wordes wiseHis tale tolde al otherwise,As he which wolde her deth respite,And fondeth hou he mihte exciteThe jugges thurgh his eloquenceFro deth to torne the sentence    1620And sette here hertes to pite.Nou tolden thei, nou tolde he;Thei spieken plein after the lawe,Bot he the wordes of his saweColoureth in an other weieSpekende, and thus betwen the tweie,To trete upon this juggement,Made ech of hem his Argument.Wherof the tales forto hiere,Ther mai a man the Scole liere    1630Of Rethoriqes eloquences,Which is the secounde of sciencesTouchende to Philosophie;Wherof a man schal justifieHise wordes in disputeisoun,And knette upon conclusiounHis Argument in such a forme,Which mai the pleine trouthe enformeAnd the soubtil cautele abate,Which every trewman schal debate.    1640

The ferste, which is Theorique,And the secounde Rethorique,Sciences of Philosophie,I have hem told as in partie,So as the Philosophre it toldeTo Alisandre: and nou I woldeTelle of the thridde what it is,The which Practique cleped is.

Practique stant upon thre thingesToward the governance of kinges;    1650Wherof the ferst Etique is named,The whos science stant proclamedTo teche of vertu thilke reule,Hou that a king himself schal reuleOf his moral condicionWith worthi disposicionOf good livinge in his persone,Which is the chief of his corone.It makth a king also to lerneHou he his bodi schal governe,    1660Hou he schal wake, hou he schal slepe,Hou that he schal his hele kepeIn mete, in drinke, in clothinge eke:Ther is no wisdom forto sekeAs for the reule of his persone,The which that this science al oneNe techeth as be weie of kinde,That ther is nothing left behinde.

That other point which to PractiqueBelongeth is Iconomique,    1670Which techeth thilke honesteteThurgh which a king in his degreHis wif and child schal reule and guie,So forth with al the companieWhich in his houshold schal abyde,And his astat on every sydeIn such manere forto lede,That he his houshold ne mislede.

Practique hath yit the thridde aprise,Which techeth hou and in what wise    1680Thurgh hih pourveied ordinanceA king schal sette in governanceHis Realme, and that is Policie,Which longeth unto RegalieIn time of werre, in time of pes,To worschipe and to good encressOf clerk, of kniht and of Marchant,And so forth of the remenantOf al the comun poeple aboute,Withinne Burgh and ek withoute,    1690Of hem that ben Artificiers,Whiche usen craftes and mestiers,Whos Art is cleped Mechanique.And though thei ben noght alle like,Yit natheles, hou so it falle,O lawe mot governe hem alle,Or that thei lese or that thei winne,After thastat that thei ben inne.

Lo, thus this worthi yonge kingWas fulli tauht of every thing,    1700Which mihte yive entendementOf good reule and good regimentTo such a worthi Prince as he.Bot of verray necessiteThe Philosophre him hath betakeFyf pointz, whiche he hath undertakeTo kepe and holde in observance,As for the worthi governanceWhich longeth to his Regalie,After the reule of Policie.    1710

To every man behoveth lore,Bot to noman belongeth moreThan to a king, which hath to ledeThe poeple; for of his kinghedeHe mai hem bothe save and spille.And for it stant upon his wille,It sit him wel to ben avised,And the vertus whiche are assissedUnto a kinges Regiment,To take in his entendement:    1720Wherof to tellen, as thei stonde,Hierafterward nou woll I fonde.

Among the vertus on is chief,And that is trouthe, which is liefTo god and ek to man also.And for it hath ben evere so,Tawhte Aristotle, as he wel couthe,To Alisandre, hou in his youtheHe scholde of trouthe thilke graceWith al his hole herte embrace,    1730So that his word be trewe and plein,Toward the world and so certeinThat in him be no double speche:For if men scholde trouthe secheAnd founde it noght withinne a king,It were an unsittende thing.The word is tokne of that withinne,Ther schal a worthi king beginneTo kepe his tunge and to be trewe,So schal his pris ben evere newe.    1740Avise him every man tofore,And be wel war, er he be swore,For afterward it is to late,If that he wole his word debate.For as a king in specialAbove alle othre is principalOf his pouer, so scholde he beMost vertuous in his degre;And that mai wel be signefiedBe his corone and specified.    1750

The gold betokneth excellence,That men schull don him reverenceAs to here liege soverein.The Stones, as the bokes sein,Commended ben in treble wise:Ferst thei ben harde, and thilke assisseBetokneth in a king Constance,So that ther schal no varianceBe founde in his condicion;And also be descripcion    1760The vertu which is in the stonesA verrai Signe is for the nonesOf that a king schal ben honesteAnd holde trewly his behesteOf thing which longeth to kinghede:The bryhte colour, as I rede,Which in the stones is schynende,Is in figure betoknendeThe Cronique of this worldes fame,Which stant upon his goode name.    1770The cercle which is round abouteIs tokne of al the lond withoute,Which stant under his Gerarchie,That he it schal wel kepe and guye.

And for that trouthe, hou so it falle,Is the vertu soverein of alle,That longeth unto regiment,A tale, which is evidentOf trouthe in comendacioun,Toward thin enformacion,    1780Mi Sone, hierafter thou schalt hiereOf a Cronique in this matiere.

As the Cronique it doth reherce,A Soldan whilom was of Perce,Which Daires hihte, and YtaspisHis fader was; and soth it isThat thurgh wisdom and hih prudenceMor than for eny reverenceOf his lignage as be descenteThe regne of thilke empire he hente:    1790And as he was himselve wys,The wisemen he hield in prisAnd soghte hem oute on every side,That toward him thei scholde abide.Among the whiche thre ther wereThat most service unto him bere,As thei which in his chambre lyhenAnd al his conseil herde and syhen.Here names ben of strange note,Arpaghes was the ferste hote,    1800And Manachaz was the secounde,Zorobabel, as it is foundeIn the Cronique, was the thridde.This Soldan, what so him betidde,To hem he triste most of alle,Wherof the cas is so befalle:This lord, which hath conceiptes depe,Upon a nyht whan he hath slepe,As he which hath his wit desposed,Touchende a point hem hath opposed.    1810

The kinges question was this;Of thinges thre which strengest is,The wyn, the womman or the king:And that thei scholde upon this thingOf here ansuere avised be,He yaf hem fulli daies thre,And hath behote hem be his feithThat who the beste reson seith,He schal receive a worthi mede.

Upon this thing thei token hiede    1820And stoden in desputeison,That be diverse opinionOf Argumentz that thei have holdeArpaghes ferst his tale tolde,And seide hou that the strengthe of kingesIs myhtiest of alle thinges.For king hath pouer over man,And man is he which reson can,As he which is of his natureThe moste noble creature    1830Of alle tho that god hath wroght:And be that skile it semeth noght,He seith, that eny erthly thingMai be so myhty as a king.A king mai spille, a king mai save,A king mai make of lord a knaveAnd of a knave a lord also:The pouer of a king stant so,That he the lawes overpasseth;What he wol make lasse, he lasseth,    1840What he wol make more, he moreth;And as the gentil faucon soreth,He fleth, that noman him reclameth;Bot he al one alle othre tameth,And stant himself of lawe fre.Lo, thus a kinges myht, seith he,So as his reson can argue,Is strengest and of most value.

Bot Manachaz seide otherwise,That wyn is of the more emprise;    1850And that he scheweth be this weie.The wyn fulofte takth aweieThe reson fro the mannes herte;The wyn can make a krepel sterte,And a delivere man unwelde;It makth a blind man to behelde,And a bryht yhed seme derk;It makth a lewed man a clerk,And fro the clerkes the clergieIt takth aweie, and couardie    1860It torneth into hardiesse;Of Avarice it makth largesse.The wyn makth ek the goode blod,In which the Soule which is goodHath chosen hire a resting place,Whil that the lif hir wole embrace.And be this skile ManachasAnsuered hath upon this cas,And seith that wyn be weie of kindeIs thing which mai the hertes binde    1870Wel more than the regalie.

Zorobabel for his partieSeide, as him thoghte for the beste,That wommen ben the myhtieste.The king and the vinour alsoOf wommen comen bothe tuo;And ek he seide hou that manhedeThurgh strengthe unto the wommanhedeOf love, wher he wole or non,Obeie schal; and therupon,    1880To schewe of wommen the maistrie,A tale which he syh with yheAs for ensample he tolde this,—

Hou Apemen, of BesazisWhich dowhter was, in the paleisSittende upon his hihe deis,Whan he was hotest in his ireToward the grete of his empire,Cirus the king tirant sche tok,And only with hire goodly lok    1890Sche made him debonaire and meke,And be the chyn and be the chekeSche luggeth him riht as hir liste,That nou sche japeth, nou sche kiste,And doth with him what evere hir liketh;Whan that sche loureth, thanne he siketh,And whan sche gladeth, he is glad:And thus this king was overladWith hire which his lemman was.Among the men is no solas,    1900If that ther be no womman there;For bot if that the wommen were,This worldes joie were aweie:Thurgh hem men finden out the weieTo knihthode and to worldes fame;Thei make a man to drede schame,And honour forto be desired:Thurgh the beaute of hem is fyredThe Dart of which Cupide throweth,Wherof the jolif peine groweth,    1910Which al the world hath under fote.A womman is the mannes bote,His lif, his deth, his wo, his wel;And this thing mai be schewed wel,Hou that wommen ben goode and kinde,For in ensample this I finde.

Whan that the duk Ametus laySek in his bedd, that every dayMen waiten whan he scholde deie,Alceste his wif goth forto preie,    1920As sche which wolde thonk deserve,With Sacrifice unto Minerve,To wite ansuere of the goddesseHou that hir lord of his seknesse,Wherof he was so wo besein,Recovere myhte his hele ayein.Lo, thus sche cride and thus sche preide,Til ate laste a vois hir seide,That if sche wolde for his sakeThe maladie soffre and take,    1930And deie hirself, he scholde live.Of this ansuere Alceste hath yiveUnto Minerve gret thonkinge,So that hir deth and his livingeSche ches with al hire hole entente,And thus acorded hom sche wente.Into the chambre and whan sche cam,Hire housebonde anon sche namIn bothe hire Armes and him kiste,And spak unto him what hire liste;    1940And therupon withinne a throweThis goode wif was overthroweAnd deide, and he was hool in haste.So mai a man be reson taste,Hou next after the god aboveThe trouthe of wommen and the love,In whom that alle grace is founde,Is myhtiest upon this groundeAnd most behovely manyfold.

Lo, thus Zorobabel hath told    1950The tale of his opinion:Bot for final conclusionWhat strengest is of erthli thinges,The wyn, the wommen or the kinges,He seith that trouthe above hem alleIs myhtiest, hou evere it falle.The trouthe, hou so it evere come,Mai for nothing ben overcome;It mai wel soffre for a throwe,Bot ate laste it schal be knowe.    1960The proverbe is, who that is trewe,Him schal his while nevere rewe:For hou so that the cause wende,The trouthe is schameles ate ende,Bot what thing that is troutheles,It mai noght wel be schameles,And schame hindreth every wyht:So proveth it, ther is no myhtWithoute trouthe in no degre.And thus for trouthe of his decre    1970Zorobabel was most commended,Wherof the question was ended,And he resceived hath his medeFor trouthe, which to mannes nedeIs most behoveliche overal.Forthi was trouthe in specialThe ferste point in observanceBetake unto the governanceOf Alisandre, as it is seid:For therupon the ground is leid    1980Of every kinges regiment,As thing which most convenientIs forto sette a king in eveneBothe in this world and ek in hevene.

Next after trouthe the secounde,In Policie as it is founde,Which serveth to the worldes fameIn worschipe of a kinges name,Largesse it is, whos privileggeTher mai non Avarice abregge.    1990The worldes good was ferst comune,Bot afterward upon fortuneWas thilke comun profit cessed:For whan the poeple stod encrescedAnd the lignages woxen grete,Anon for singulier beyeteDrouh every man to his partie;Wherof cam in the ferste envieWith gret debat and werres stronge,And laste among the men so longe,    2000Til noman wiste who was who,Ne which was frend ne which was fo.Til ate laste in every londWithinne hemself the poeple fondThat it was good to make a king,Which mihte appesen al this thingAnd yive riht to the lignagesIn partinge of here heritagesAnd ek of al here other good;And thus above hem alle stod    2010The king upon his Regalie,As he which hath to justifieThe worldes good fro covoitise.So sit it wel in alle wiseA king betwen the more and lesseTo sette his herte upon largesseToward himself and ek alsoToward his poeple; and if noght so,That is to sein, if that he beToward himselven large and fre    2020And of his poeple take and pile,Largesse be no weie of skileIt mai be seid, bot Avarice,Which in a king is a gret vice.

A king behoveth ek to fleThe vice of Prodegalite,That he mesure in his expenceSo kepe, that of indigenceHe mai be sauf: for who that nedeth,In al his werk the worse he spedeth.    2030As Aristotle upon ChaldeeEnsample of gret AuctoriteUnto king Alisandre tauhteOf thilke folk that were unsauhteToward here king for his pilage:Wherof he bad, in his corageThat he unto thre pointz entende,Wher that he wolde his good despende.Ferst scholde he loke, hou that it stod,That al were of his oghne good    2040The yiftes whiche he wolde yive;So myhte he wel the betre live:And ek he moste taken hiedeIf ther be cause of eny nede,Which oghte forto be defended,Er that his goodes be despended:He mot ek, as it is befalle,Amonges othre thinges alleSe the decertes of his men;And after that thei ben of ken    2050And of astat and of merite,He schal hem largeliche aquite,Or for the werre, or for the pes,That non honour falle in descres,Which mihte torne into defame,Bot that he kepe his goode name,So that he be noght holde unkinde.For in Cronique a tale I finde,Which spekth somdiel of this matiere,Hierafterward as thou schalt hiere.    2060

In Rome, to poursuie his riht,Ther was a worthi povere kniht,Which cam al one forto seinHis cause, when the court was plein,Wher Julius was in presence.And for him lacketh of despence,Ther was with him non advocatTo make ple for his astat.Bot thogh him lacke forto plede,Him lacketh nothing of manhede;    2070He wiste wel his pours was povere,Bot yit he thoghte his riht recovere,And openly poverte alleide,To themperour and thus he seide:“O Julius, lord of the lawe,Behold, mi conseil is withdraweFor lacke of gold: do thin officeAfter the lawes of justice:Help that I hadde conseil hiereUpon the trouthe of mi matiere.”    2080And Julius with that anonAssigned him a worthi on,Bot he himself no word ne spak.This kniht was wroth and fond a lakIn themperour, and seide thus:“O thou unkinde Julius,Whan thou in thi bataille wereUp in Aufrique, and I was there,Mi myht for thi rescousse I dedeAnd putte noman in my stede,    2090Thou wost what woundes ther I hadde:Bot hier I finde thee so badde,That thee ne liste speke o wordThin oghne mouth, nor of thin hordTo yive a florin me to helpe.Hou scholde I thanne me beyelpeFro this dai forth of thi largesse,Whan such a gret unkindenesseIs founde in such a lord as thou?”

This Julius knew wel ynou    2100That al was soth which he him tolde;And for he wolde noght ben holdeUnkinde, he tok his cause on honde,And as it were of goddes sonde,He yaf him good ynouh to spendeFor evere into his lives ende.And thus scholde every worthi kingTake of his knihtes knowleching,Whan that he syh thei hadden nede,For every service axeth mede:    2110Bot othre, which have noght deservedThurgh vertu, bot of japes served,A king schal noght deserve grace,Thogh he be large in such a place.

It sit wel every king to haveDiscrecion, whan men him crave,So that he mai his yifte wite:Wherof I finde a tale write,Hou Cinichus a povere knihtA Somme which was over myht    2120Preide of his king Antigonus.The king ansuerde to him thus,And seide hou such a yifte passethHis povere astat: and thanne he lasseth,And axeth bot a litel peny,If that the king wol yive him eny.The king ansuerde, it was to smalFor him, which was a lord real;To yive a man so litel thingIt were unworschipe in a king.    2130

Be this ensample a king mai lereThat forto yive is in manere:For if a king his tresor lassethWithoute honour and thonkles passeth,Whan he himself wol so beguile,I not who schal compleigne his while,Ne who be rihte him schal relieve.Bot natheles this I believe,To helpe with his oghne londBehoveth every man his hond    2140To sette upon necessite;And ek his kinges realteMot every liege man conforte,With good and bodi to supporte,Whan thei se cause resonable:For who that is noght entendableTo holde upriht his kinges name,Him oghte forto be to blame.

Of Policie and overmoreTo speke in this matiere more,    2150So as the Philosophre tolde,A king after the reule is holdeTo modifie and to adresceHise yiftes upon such largesceThat he mesure noght excede:For if a king falle into nede,It causeth ofte sondri thingesWhiche are ungoodly to the kinges.What man wol noght himself mesure,Men sen fulofte that mesure    2160Him hath forsake: and so doth heThat useth Prodegalite,Which is the moder of poverte,Wherof the londes ben deserte;And namely whan thilke viceAboute a king stant in officeAnd hath withholde of his partieThe covoitouse flaterie,Which many a worthi king deceiveth,Er he the fallas aperceiveth    2170Of hem that serven to the glose.For thei that cunnen plese and glose,Ben, as men tellen, the norricesUnto the fostringe of the vices,Wherof fulofte nathelesA king is blamed gulteles.

A Philosophre, as thou schalt hiere,Spak to a king of this matiere,And seide him wel hou that flatoursCoupable were of thre errours.    2180On was toward the goddes hihe,That weren wrothe of that thei siheThe meschief which befalle scholdeOf that the false flatour tolde.Toward the king an other was,Whan thei be sleihte and be fallasOf feigned wordes make him weneThat blak is whyt and blew is greneTouchende of his condicion:For whanne he doth extorcion    2190With manye an other vice mo,Men schal noght finden on of thoTo groucche or speke therayein,Bot holden up his oil and seinThat al is wel, what evere he doth;And thus of fals thei maken soth,So that here kinges yhe is blentAnd wot not hou the world is went.The thridde errour is harm comune,With which the poeple mot commune    2200Of wronges that thei bringen inne:And thus thei worchen treble sinne,That ben flatours aboute a king.Ther myhte be no worse thingAboute a kinges regalie,Thanne is the vice of flaterie.

And natheles it hath ben used,That it was nevere yit refusedAs forto speke in court real;For there it is most special,    2210And mai noght longe be forbore.Bot whan this vice of hem is bore,That scholden the vertus forthbringe,And trouthe is torned to lesinge,It is, as who seith, ayein kinde,Wherof an old ensample I finde.

Among these othre tales wiseOf Philosophres, in this wiseI rede, how whilom tuo ther were,And to the Scole forto lere    2220Unto Athenes fro CartageHere frendes, whan thei were of Age,Hem sende; and ther thei stoden longe,Til thei such lore have underfonge,That in here time thei surmonteAlle othre men, that to acompteOf hem was tho the grete fame.The ferste of hem his rihte nameWas Diogenes thanne hote,In whom was founde no riote:    2230His felaw Arisippus hyhte,Which mochel couthe and mochel myhte.Bot ate laste, soth to sein,Thei bothe tornen hom ayeinUnto Cartage and scole lete.This Diogenes no beyeteOf worldes good or lasse or moreNe soghte for his longe lore,Bot tok him only forto duelleAt hom; and as the bokes telle,    2240His hous was nyh to the rivereBesyde a bregge, as thou schalt hiere.Ther duelleth he to take his reste,So as it thoghte him for the beste,To studie in his Philosophie,As he which wolde so defieThe worldes pompe on every syde.

Bot Arisippe his bok asideHath leid, and to the court he wente,Wher many a wyle and many a wente    2250With flaterie and wordes softeHe caste, and hath compassed ofteHou he his Prince myhte plese;And in this wise he gat him eseOf vein honour and worldes good.The londes reule upon him stod,The king of him was wonder glad,And all was do, what thing he bad,Bothe in the court and ek withoute.With flaterie he broghte aboute    2260His pourpos of the worldes werk,Which was ayein the stat of clerk,So that Philosophie he lefteAnd to richesse himself uplefte:Lo, thus hadde Arisippe his wille.

Bot Diogenes duelte stilleA home and loked on his bok:He soghte noght the worldes crokFor vein honour ne for richesse,Bot all his hertes besinesse    2270He sette to be vertuous;And thus withinne his oghne housHe liveth to the sufficanceOf his havinge. And fell per chance,This Diogene upon a day,And that was in the Monthe of May,Whan that these herbes ben holsome,He walketh forto gadre someIn his gardin, of whiche his joutesHe thoghte have, and thus aboutes    2280Whanne he hath gadred what him liketh,He satte him thanne doun and pyketh,And wyssh his herbes in the flodUpon the which his gardin stod,Nyh to the bregge, as I tolde er.And hapneth, whil he sitteth ther,Cam Arisippes be the streteWith manye hors and routes grete,And straght unto the bregge he rod.Wher that he hoved and abod;    2290For as he caste his yhe nyh,His felaw Diogene he syh,And what he dede he syh also,Wherof he seide to him so:

“O Diogene, god thee spede.It were certes litel nedeTo sitte there and wortes pyke,If thou thi Prince couthest lyke,So as I can in my degre.”

“O Arisippe,” ayein quod he,    2300“If that thou couthist, so as I,Thi wortes pyke, trewelyIt were als litel nede or lasse,That thou so worldly wolt compasseWith flaterie forto serve,Wherof thou thenkest to deserveThi princes thonk, and to pourchaceHou thou myht stonden in his grace,For getinge of a litel good.If thou wolt take into thi mod    2310Reson, thou myht be reson deemeThat so thi prince forto queemeIs noght to reson acordant,Bot it is gretly descordantUnto the Scoles of Athene.”Lo, thus ansuerde DiogeneAyein the clerkes flaterie.

Bot yit men sen thessamplerieOf Arisippe is wel received,And thilke of Diogene is weyved.    2320Office in court and gold in cofreIs nou, men sein, the philosophreWhich hath the worschipe in the halle;Bot flaterie passeth alleIn chambre, whom the court avanceth;For upon thilke lot it chancethTo be beloved nou aday.I not if it be ye or nay,Bot as the comun vois it telleth;Bot wher that flaterie duelleth    2330In eny lond under the Sonne,Ther is ful many a thing begonneWhich were betre to be left;That hath be schewed nou and eft.

Bot if a Prince wolde him reuleOf the Romeins after the reule,In thilke time as it was used,This vice scholde be refused,Wherof the Princes ben assoted.Bot wher the pleine trouthe is noted,    2340Ther may a Prince wel conceive,That he schal noght himself deceive,Of that he hiereth wordes pleine;For him thar noght be reson pleigne,That warned is er him be wo.And that was fully proeved tho,Whan Rome was the worldes chief,The Sothseiere tho was lief,Which wolde noght the trouthe spare,Bot with hise wordes pleine and bare    2350To Themperour hise sothes tolde,As in Cronique is yit withholde,Hierafterward as thou schalt hiereAcordende unto this matiere.

To se this olde ensamplerie,That whilom was no flaterieToward the Princes wel I finde;Wherof so as it comth to mynde,Mi Sone, a tale unto thin Ere,Whil that the worthi princes were    2360At Rome, I thenke forto tellen.For whan the chances so befellenThat eny Emperour as thoVictoire hadde upon his fo,And so forth cam to Rome ayein,Of treble honour he was certein,Wherof that he was magnefied.The ferste, as it is specefied,Was, whan he cam at thilke tyde,The Charr in which he scholde ryde    2370Foure whyte Stiedes scholden drawe;Of Jupiter be thilke laweThe Cote he scholde were also;Hise prisoners ek scholden goEndlong the Charr on eyther hond,And alle the nobles of the londTofore and after with him comeRidende and broghten him to Rome,In thonk of his chivalerieAnd for non other flaterie.    2380And that was schewed forth withal;Wher he sat in his Charr real,Beside him was a Ribald set,Which hadde hise wordes so beset,To themperour in al his gloireHe seide, “Tak into memoire,For al this pompe and al this prideLet no justice gon aside,Bot know thiself, what so befalle.For men sen ofte time falle    2390Thing which men wende siker stonde:Thogh thou victoire have nou on honde,Fortune mai noght stonde alway;The whiel per chance an other dayMai torne, and thou myht overthrowe;Ther lasteth nothing bot a throwe.”

With these wordes and with moThis Ribald, which sat with him tho,To Themperour his tale tolde:And overmor what evere he wolde,    2400Or were it evel or were it good,So pleinly as the trouthe stod,He spareth noght, bot spekth it oute;And so myhte every man abouteThe day of that solempneteHis tale telle als wel as heTo Themperour al openly.And al was this the cause why;That whil he stod in that noblesse,He scholde his vanite represse    2410With suche wordes as he herde.

Lo nou, hou thilke time it ferdeToward so hih a worthi lord:For this I finde ek of record,Which the Cronique hath auctorized.What Emperour was entronized,The ferste day of his corone,Wher he was in his real ThroneAnd hield his feste in the paleisSittende upon his hihe deis    2420With al the lust that mai be gete,Whan he was gladdest at his mete,And every menstral hadde pleid,And every Disour hadde seidWhat most was plesant to his Ere,Than ate laste comen thereHise Macons, for thei scholden craveWher that he wolde be begrave,And of what Ston his sepultureThei scholden make, and what sculpture    2430He wolde ordeine therupon.

Tho was ther flaterie nonThe worthi princes to bejape;The thing was other wise schapeWith good conseil; and otherwiseThei were hemselven thanne wise,And understoden wel and knewen.Whan suche softe wyndes blewenOf flaterie into here Ere,Thei setten noght here hertes there;    2440Bot whan thei herden wordes feigned,The pleine trouthe it hath desdeignedOf hem that weren so discrete.So tok the flatour no beyeteOf him that was his prince tho:And forto proven it is so,A tale which befell in dedeIn a Cronique of Rome I rede.

Cesar upon his real throneWher that he sat in his persone    2450And was hyest in al his pris,A man, which wolde make him wys,Fell doun knelende in his presence,And dede him such a reverence,As thogh the hihe god it were:Men hadden gret mervaille thereOf the worschipe which he dede.This man aros fro thilke stede,And forth with al the same tydeHe goth him up and be his side    2460He set him doun as pier and pier,And seide, “If thou that sittest hierArt god, which alle thinges myht,Thanne have I do worshipe arihtAs to the god; and other wise,If thou be noght of thilke assisse,Bot art a man such as am I,Than mai I sitte faste by,For we be bothen of o kinde.”

Cesar ansuerde and seide, “O blinde,    2470Thou art a fol, it is wel seneUpon thiself: for if thou weneI be a god, thou dost amysTo sitte wher thou sest god is;And if I be a man, alsoThou hast a gret folie do,Whan thou to such on as schal deieThe worschipe of thi god aweieHast yoven so unworthely.Thus mai I prove redely,    2480Thou art noght wys.”    And thei that herdeHou wysly that the king ansuerde,It was to hem a newe lore;Wherof thei dradden him the more,And broghten nothing to his Ere,Bot if it trouthe and reson were.So be ther manye, in such a wiseThat feignen wordes to be wise,And al is verray flaterieTo him which can it wel aspie.    2490

The kinde flatour can noght loveBot forto bringe himself above;For hou that evere his maister fare,So that himself stonde out of care,Him reccheth noght: and thus fulofteDeceived ben with wordes softeThe kinges that ben innocent.Wherof as for chastiementThe wise Philosophre seide,What king that so his tresor leide    2500Upon such folk, he hath the lesse,And yit ne doth he no largesse,Bot harmeth with his oghne hondHimself and ek his oghne lond,And that be many a sondri weie.Wherof if that a man schal seie,As forto speke in general,Wher such thing falleth overalThat eny king himself misreule,The Philosophre upon his reule    2510In special a cause sette,Which is and evere hath be the letteIn governance aboute a kingUpon the meschief of the thing,And that, he seith, is Flaterie.Wherof tofore as in partieWhat vice it is I have declared;For who that hath his wit bewaredUpon a flatour to believe,Whan that he weneth best achieve    2520His goode world, it is most fro.And forto proeven it is soEnsamples ther ben manyon,Of whiche if thou wolt knowen on,It is behovely forto hiereWhat whilom fell in this matiere.

Among the kinges in the bibleI finde a tale, and is credible,Of him that whilom Achab hihte,Which hadde al Irahel to rihte;    2530Bot who that couthe glose softeAnd flatre, suche he sette alofteIn gret astat and made hem riche;Bot thei that spieken wordes licheTo trouthe and wolde it noght forbere,For hem was non astat to bere,The court of suche tok non hiede.Til ate laste upon a nede,That Benedab king of SurieOf Irahel a gret partie,    2540Which Ramoth Galaath was hote,Hath sesed; and of that rioteHe tok conseil in sondri wise,Bot noght of hem that weren wise.And natheles upon this casTo strengthen him, for Josaphas,Which thanne was king of Judee,He sende forto come, as heWhich thurgh frendschipe and allianceWas next to him of aqueintance;    2550For Joram Sone of JosaphathAchabbes dowhter wedded hath,Which hihte faire Godelie.And thus cam into SamarieKing Josaphat, and he fond thereThe king Achab: and whan thei wereTogedre spekende of this thing,This Josaphat seith to the king,Hou that he wolde gladly hiereSom trew prophete in this matiere,    2560That he his conseil myhte yiveTo what point that it schal be drive.

And in that time so befell,Ther was such on in Irahel,Which sette him al to flaterie,And he was cleped Sedechie;And after him Achab hath sent:And he at his comandementTofore him cam, and be a sleyhteHe hath upon his heved on heyhte    2570Tuo large hornes set of bras,As he which al a flatour was,And goth rampende as a leounAnd caste hise hornes up and doun,And bad men ben of good espeir,For as the hornes percen their,He seith, withoute resistence,So wiste he wel of his scienceThat Benedab is desconfit.Whan Sedechie upon this plit    2580Hath told this tale to his lord,Anon ther were of his acordProphetes false manye moTo bere up oil, and alle thoAffermen that which he hath told,Wherof the king Achab was boldAnd yaf hem yiftes al aboute.But Josaphat was in gret doute,And hield fantosme al that he herde,Preiende Achab, hou so it ferde,    2590If ther were eny other man,The which of prophecie can,To hiere him speke er that thei gon.Quod Achab thanne, “Ther is on,A brothell, which Micheas hihte;Bot he ne comth noght in my sihte,For he hath longe in prison lein.Him liketh nevere yit to seinA goodly word to mi plesance;And natheles at thin instance    2600He schal come oute, and thanne he maySeie as he seide many day;For yit he seide nevere wel.”Tho Josaphat began somdelTo gladen him in hope of trouthe,And bad withouten eny sloutheThat men him scholden fette anon.And thei that weren for him gon,Whan that thei comen wher he was,Thei tolden unto Micheas    2610The manere hou that SedechieDeclared hath his prophecie;And therupon thei preie him faireThat he wol seie no contraire,Wherof the king mai be desplesed,For so schal every man ben esed,And he mai helpe himselve also.

Micheas upon trouthe thoHis herte sette, and to hem seith,Al that belongeth to his feith    2620And of non other feigned thing,That wol he telle unto his king,Als fer as god hath yove him grace.Thus cam this prophete into placeWher he the kinges wille herde;And he therto anon ansuerde,And seide unto him in this wise:“Mi liege lord, for mi servise,Which trewe hath stonden evere yit,Thou hast me with prisone aquit;    2630Bot for al that I schal noght gloseOf trouthe als fer as I suppose;And as touchende of this bataille,Thou schalt noght of the sothe faile.For if it like thee to hiere,As I am tauht in that matiere,Thou miht it understonde sone;Bot what is afterward to doneAvise thee, for this I sih.I was tofor the throne on hih,    2640Wher al the world me thoghte stod,And there I herde and understodThe vois of god with wordes cliereAxende, and seide in this manere:“In what thing mai I best beguileThe king Achab?” And for a whileUpon this point thei spieken faste.Tho seide a spirit ate laste,“I undertake this emprise.”And god him axeth in what wise.    2650“I schal,” quod he, “deceive and lyeWith flaterende prophecieIn suche mouthes as he lieveth.”And he which alle thing achievethBad him go forth and don riht so.And over this I sih alsoThe noble peple of IrahelDispers as Schep upon an hell,Withoute a kepere unarraied:And as thei wente aboute astraied,    2660I herde a vois unto hem sein,“Goth hom into your hous ayein,Til I for you have betre ordeigned.”

Quod Sedechie, “Thou hast feignedThis tale in angringe of the king.”And in a wraththe upon this thingHe smot Michee upon the cheke;The king him hath rebuked eke,And every man upon him cride:Thus was he schent on every side,    2670Ayein and into prison lad,For so the king himselve bad.The trouthe myhte noght ben herd;Bot afterward as it hath ferd,The dede proveth his entente:Achab to the bataille wente,Wher Benedab for al his ScheldHim slouh, so that upon the feldHis poeple goth aboute astray.Bot god, which alle thinges may,    2680So doth that thei no meschief have;Here king was ded and thei ben save,And hom ayein in goddes pesThei wente, and al was founde lesThat Sedechie hath seid tofore.

So sit it wel a king therforeTo loven hem that trouthe mene;For ate laste it wol be seneThat flaterie is nothing worth.Bot nou to mi matiere forth,    2690As forto speken overmoreAfter the Philosophres lore,The thridde point of PolicieI thenke forto specifie.

What is a lond wher men ben none?What ben the men whiche are al oneWithoute a kinges governance?What is a king in his ligance,Wher that ther is no lawe in londe?What is to take lawe on honde,    2700Bot if the jugges weren trewe?These olde worldes with the neweWho that wol take in evidence,Ther mai he se thexperience,What thing it is to kepe lawe,Thurgh which the wronges ben withdraweAnd rihtwisnesse stant commended,Wherof the regnes ben amended.For wher the lawe mai comuneThe lordes forth with the commune,    2710Ech hath his propre duete;And ek the kinges realteOf bothe his worschipe underfongeth,To his astat as it belongeth,Which of his hihe worthinesseHath to governe rihtwisnesse,As he which schal the lawe guide.And natheles upon som sideHis pouer stant above the lawe,To yive bothe and to withdrawe    2720The forfet of a mannes lif;But thinges whiche are excessifAyein the lawe, he schal noght doFor love ne for hate also.

The myhtes of a king ben grete,Bot yit a worthi king schal leteOf wrong to don, al that he myhte;For he which schal the poeple ryhte,It sit wel to his regalieThat he himself ferst justefie    2730Towardes god in his degre:For his astat is elles freToward alle othre in his persone,Save only to the god al one,Which wol himself a king chastise,Wher that non other mai suffise.So were it good to taken hiedeThat ferst a king his oghne dedeBetwen the vertu and the viceRedresce, and thanne of his justice    2740So sette in evene the balanceTowardes othre in governance,That to the povere and to the richeHise lawes myhten stonde liche,He schal excepte no persone.Bot for he mai noght al him oneIn sondri places do justice,He schal of his real officeWith wys consideracionOrdeigne his deputacion    2750Of suche jugges as ben lerned,So that his poeple be governedBe hem that trewe ben and wise.For if the lawe of covoitiseBe set upon a jugges hond,Wo is the poeple of thilke lond,For wrong mai noght himselven hyde:Bot elles on that other side,If lawe stonde with the riht,The poeple is glad and stant upriht.    2760Wher as the lawe is resonable,The comun poeple stant menable,And if the lawe torne amis,The poeple also mistorned is.

And in ensample of this matiereOf Maximin a man mai hiere,Of Rome which was Emperour,That whanne he made a governourBe weie of substitucionOf Province or of region,    2770He wolde ferst enquere his name,And let it openly proclameWhat man he were, or evel or good.And upon that his name stodEnclin to vertu or to vice,So wolde he sette him in office,Or elles putte him al aweie.Thus hield the lawe his rihte weie,Which fond no let of covoitise:The world stod than upon the wise,    2780As be ensample thou myht rede;And hold it in thi mynde, I rede.

In a Cronique I finde thus,Hou that Gayus Fabricius,Which whilom was Consul of Rome,Be whom the lawes yede and come,Whan the Sampnites to him broghteA somme of gold, and him besoghteTo don hem favour in the lawe,Toward the gold he gan him drawe,    2790Wherof in alle mennes lokA part up in his hond he tok,Which to his mouth in alle hasteHe putte, it forto smelle and taste,And to his yhe and to his Ere,Bot he ne fond no confort there:And thanne he gan it to despise,And tolde unto hem in this wise:“I not what is with gold to thryve,Whan non of all my wittes fyve    2800Fynt savour ne delit therinne.So is it bot a nyce SinneOf gold to ben to covoitous;Bot he is riche and glorious,Which hath in his subjeccionTho men whiche in possessionBen riche of gold, and be this skile;For he mai aldai whan he wile,Or be hem lieve or be hem lothe,Justice don upon hem bothe.”    2810Lo, thus he seide, and with that wordHe threw tofore hem on the bordThe gold out of his hond anon,And seide hem that he wolde non:So that he kepte his liberteTo do justice and equite,Withoute lucre of such richesse.

Ther be nou fewe of suche, I gesse;For it was thilke times used,That every jugge was refused    2820Which was noght frend to comun riht;Bot thei that wolden stonde uprihtFor trouthe only to do justicePreferred were in thilke officeTo deme and jugge commun lawe:Which nou, men sein, is al withdrawe.To sette a lawe and kepe it noghtTher is no comun profit soght;Bot above alle nathelesThe lawe, which is mad for pes,    2830Is good to kepe for the beste,For that set alle men in reste.

The rihtful Emperour ConradeTo kepe pes such lawe made,That non withinne the citeIn destorbance of uniteDorste ones moeven a matiere.For in his time, as thou myht hiere,What point that was for lawe setIt scholde for no gold be let,    2840To what persone that it were.And this broghte in the comun fere,Why every man the lawe dradde,For ther was non which favour hadde.

So as these olde bokes sein,I finde write hou a Romein,Which Consul was of the Pretoire,Whos name was Carmidotoire,He sette a lawe for the pes,That non, bot he be wepneles,    2850Schal come into the conseil hous,And elles as maliciousHe schal ben of the lawe ded.To that statut and to that redAcorden alle it schal be so,For certein cause which was tho:Nou lest what fell therafter sone.This Consul hadde forto done,And was into the feldes ride;And thei him hadden longe abide,    2860That lordes of the conseil were,And for him sende, and he cam thereWith swerd begert, and hath foryete,Til he was in the conseil sete.Was non of hem that made speche,Til he himself it wolde seche,And fond out the defalte himselve;And thanne he seide unto the tuelve,Whiche of the Senat weren wise,“I have deserved the juise,    2870In haste that it were do.”And thei him seiden alle no;For wel thei wiste it was no vice,Whan he ne thoghte no malice,Bot onliche of a litel slouthe:And thus thei leften as for routheTo do justice upon his gilt,For that he scholde noght be spilt.And whanne he sih the maner houThei wolde him save, he made avou    2880With manfull herte, and thus he seide,That Rome scholde nevere abreideHis heires, whan he were of dawe,That here Ancestre brak the lawe.Forthi, er that thei weren war,Forth with the same swerd he barThe statut of his lawe he kepte,So that al Rome his deth bewepte.

In other place also I rede,Wher that a jugge his oghne dede    2890Ne wol noght venge of lawe broke,The king it hath himselven wroke.The grete king which CambisesWas hote, a jugge lawelesHe fond, and into remembranceHe dede upon him such vengance:Out of his skyn he was beflainAl quyk, and in that wise slain,So that his skyn was schape al meete,And nayled on the same seete    2900Wher that his Sone scholde sitte.Avise him, if he wolde flitteThe lawe for the coveitise,Ther sih he redi his juise.

Thus in defalte of other juggeThe king mot otherwhile jugge,To holden up the rihte lawe.And forto speke of tholde dawe,To take ensample of that was tho,I finde a tale write also,    2910Hou that a worthi prince is holdeThe lawes of his lond to holde,Ferst for the hihe goddes sake,And ek for that him is betakeThe poeple forto guide and lede,Which is the charge of his kinghede.

In a Cronique I rede thusOf the rihtful Ligurgius,Which of Athenis Prince was,Hou he the lawe in every cas,    2920Wherof he scholde his poeple reule,Hath set upon so good a reule,In al this world that cite nonOf lawe was so wel begonForth with the trouthe of governance.Ther was among hem no distance,Bot every man hath his encress;Ther was withoute werre pes,Withoute envie love stod;Richesse upon the comun good    2930And noght upon the singulerOrdeigned was, and the pouerOf hem that weren in astatWas sauf: wherof upon debatTher stod nothing, so that in resteMihte every man his herte reste.

And whan this noble rihtful kingSih hou it ferde of al this thing,Wherof the poeple stod in ese,He, which for evere wolde plese    2940The hihe god, whos thonk he soghte,A wonder thing thanne him bethoghte,And schop if that it myhte be,Hou that his lawe in the citeMihte afterward for evere laste.And therupon his wit he casteWhat thing him were best to feigne,That he his pourpos myhte atteigne.

A Parlement and thus he sette,His wisdom wher that he besette    2950In audience of grete and smale,And in this wise he tolde his tale:“God wot, and so ye witen alle,Hierafterward hou so it falle,Yit into now my will hath beTo do justice and equiteIn forthringe of comun profit;Such hath ben evere my delit.Bot of o thing I am beknowe,The which mi will is that ye knowe:    2960The lawe which I tok on honde,Was altogedre of goddes sondeAnd nothing of myn oghne wit;So mot it nede endure yit,And schal do lengere, if ye wile.For I wol telle you the skile;The god Mercurius and no manHe hath me tawht al that I canOf suche lawes as I made,Wherof that ye ben alle glade;    2970It was the god and nothing I,Which dede al this, and nou forthiHe hath comanded of his graceThat I schal come into a placeWhich is forein out in an yle,Wher I mot tarie for a while,With him to speke, as he hath bede.For as he seith, in thilke stedeHe schal me suche thinges telle,That evere, whyl the world schal duelle,    2980Athenis schal the betre fare.Bot ferst, er that I thider fare,For that I wolde that mi laweAmonges you ne be withdraweTher whyles that I schal ben oute,Forthi to setten out of douteBothe you and me, this wol I preie,That ye me wolde assure and seieWith such an oth as I wol take,That ech of you schal undertake    2990Mi lawes forto kepe and holde.”Thei seiden alle that thei wolde,And therupon thei swore here oth,That fro the time that he goth,Til he to hem be come ayein,Thei scholde hise lawes wel and pleinIn every point kepe and fulfille.

Thus hath Ligurgius his wille,And tok his leve and forth he wente.Bot lest nou wel to what entente    3000Of rihtwisnesse he dede so:For after that he was ago,He schop him nevere to be founde;So that Athenis, which was bounde,Nevere after scholde be relessed,Ne thilke goode lawe cessed,Which was for comun profit set.And in this wise he hath it knet;He, which the comun profit soghte,The king, his oghne astat ne roghte;    3010To do profit to the comune,He tok of exil the fortune,And lefte of Prince thilke officeOnly for love and for justice,Thurgh which he thoghte, if that he myhte,For evere after his deth to rihteThe cite which was him betake.Wherof men oghte ensample takeThe goode lawes to avanceWith hem which under governance    3020The lawes have forto kepe;For who that wolde take kepeOf hem that ferst the lawes founde,Als fer as lasteth eny boundeOf lond, here names yit ben knowe:And if it like thee to knoweSome of here names hou thei stonde,Nou herkne and thou schalt understonde.

Of every bienfet the meriteThe god himself it wol aquite;    3030And ek fulofte it falleth so,The world it wole aquite also,Bot that mai noght ben evene liche:The god he yifth the heveneriche,The world yifth only bot a name,Which stant upon the goode fameOf hem that don the goode dede.And in this wise double medeResceiven thei that don wel hiere;Wherof if that thee list to hiere    3040After the fame as it is blowe,Ther myht thou wel the sothe knowe,Hou thilke honeste besinesseOf hem that ferst for rihtwisnesseAmong the men the lawes made,Mai nevere upon this erthe fade.For evere, whil ther is a tunge,Here name schal be rad and sungeAnd holde in the Cronique write;So that the men it scholden wite,    3050To speke good, as thei wel oghten,Of hem that ferst the lawes soghtenIn forthringe of the worldes pes.Unto thebreus was MoisesThe ferste, and to thegipciensMercurius, and to TroiensFerst was Neuma Pompilius,To Athenes LigurgiusYaf ferst the lawe, and to GregoisForoneus hath thilke vois,    3060And Romulus to the Romeins.For suche men that ben vileinsThe lawe in such a wise ordeigneth,That what man to the lawe pleigneth,Be so the jugge stonde upriht,He schal be served of his riht.And so ferforth it is befalleThat lawe is come among ous alle:God lieve it mote wel ben holde,As every king therto is holde;    3070For thing which is of kinges set,With kinges oghte it noght be let.What king of lawe takth no kepe,Be lawe he mai no regne kepe.Do lawe awey, what is a king?Wher is the riht of eny thing,If that ther be no lawe in londe?This oghte a king wel understonde,As he which is to lawe swore,That if the lawe be forbore    3080Withouten execucioun,If makth a lond torne up so doun,Which is unto the king a sclandre.Forthi unto king AlisandreThe wise Philosophre bad,That he himselve ferst be ladOf lawe, and forth thanne overalSo do justice in general,That al the wyde lond abouteThe justice of his lawe doute,    3090And thanne schal he stonde in reste.For therto lawe is on the besteAbove alle other erthly thing,To make a liege drede his king.Bot hou a king schal gete him loveToward the hihe god above,And ek among the men in erthe,This nexte point, which is the fertheOf Aristotles lore, it techeth:Wherof who that the Scole secheth,    3100What Policie that it isThe bok reherceth after this.

It nedeth noght that I delateThe pris which preised is algate,And hath ben evere and evere schal,Wherof to speke in special,It is the vertu of Pite,Thurgh which the hihe magesteWas stered, whan his Sone alyhte,And in pite the world to rihte    3110Tok of the Maide fleissh and blod.Pite was cause of thilke good,Wherof that we ben alle save:Wel oghte a man Pite to haveAnd the vertu to sette in pris,Whan he himself which is al wysHath schewed why it schal be preised.Pite may noght be conterpeisedOf tirannie with no peis;For Pite makth a king courteis    3120Bothe in his word and in his dede.

It sit wel every liege dredeHis king and to his heste obeie,And riht so be the same weieIt sit a king to be pitousToward his poeple and graciousUpon the reule of governance,So that he worche no vengance,Which mai be cleped crualte.Justice which doth equite    3130Is dredfull, for he noman spareth;Bot in the lond wher Pite farethThe king mai nevere faile of love,For Pite thurgh the grace above,So as the Philosphre affermeth,His regne in good astat confermeth.

Thus seide whilom Constantin:“What Emperour that is enclinTo Pite forto be servant,Of al the worldes remenant    3140He is worthi to ben a lord.”

In olde bokes of recordThis finde I write of essamplaire:Troian the worthi debonaire,Be whom that Rome stod governed,Upon a time as he was lernedOf that he was to familier,He seide unto that conseiller,That forto ben an EmperourHis will was noght for vein honour,    3150Ne yit for reddour of justice;Bot if he myhte in his officeHise lordes and his poeple plese,Him thoghte it were a grettere eseWith love here hertes to him drawe,Than with the drede of eny lawe.For whan a thing is do for doute,Fulofte it comth the worse aboute;Bot wher a king is Pietous,He is the more gracious,    3160That mochel thrift him schal betyde,Which elles scholde torne aside.

Of Pite forto speke plein,Which is with mercy wel besein,Fulofte he wole himselve peineTo kepe an other fro the peine:For Charite the moder isOf Pite, which nothing amisCan soffre, if he it mai amende.It sit to every man livende    3170To be Pitous, bot non so welAs to a king, which on the whielFortune hath set aboven alle:For in a king, if so befalleThat his Pite be ferme and stable,To al the lond it is vailableOnly thurgh grace of his persone;For the Pite of him al oneMai al the large realme save.So sit it wel a king to have    3180Pite; for this Valeire tolde,And seide hou that be daies oldeCodrus, which was in his degreKing of Athenis the cite,A werre he hadde ayein Dorrence:And forto take his evidenceWhat schal befalle of the bataille,He thoghte he wolde him ferst consailleWith Appollo, in whom he triste;Thurgh whos ansuere this he wiste,    3190Of tuo pointz that he myhte chese,Or that he wolde his body leseAnd in bataille himselve deie,Or elles the seconde weie,To sen his poeple desconfit.Bot he, which Pite hath parfitUpon the point of his believe,The poeple thoghte to relieve,And ches himselve to be ded.Wher is nou such an other hed,    3200Which wolde for the lemes dye?And natheles in som partieIt oghte a kinges herte stere,That he hise liege men forbere.And ek toward hise enemisFulofte he may deserve pris,To take of Pite remembrance,Wher that he myhte do vengance:For whanne a king hath the victoire,And thanne he drawe into memoire    3210To do Pite in stede of wreche,He mai noght faile of thilke specheWherof arist the worldes fame,To yive a Prince a worthi name.

I rede hou whilom that Pompeie,To whom that Rome moste obeie,A werre hadde in jeupartieAyein the king of Ermenie,Which of long time him hadde grieved.Bot ate laste it was achieved    3220That he this king desconfit hadde,And forth with him to Rome laddeAs Prisoner, wher many a dayIn sori plit and povere he lay,The corone of his heved deposed,Withinne walles faste enclosed;And with ful gret humiliteHe soffreth his adversite.Pompeie sih his pacienceAnd tok pite with conscience,    3230So that upon his hihe deisTofore al Rome in his Paleis,As he that wolde upon him rewe,Let yive him his corone neweAnd his astat al full and pleinRestoreth of his regne ayein,And seide it was more goodly thingTo make than undon a king,To him which pouer hadde of bothe.Thus thei, that weren longe wrothe,    3240Acorden hem to final pes;And yit justice nathelesWas kept and in nothing offended;Wherof Pompeie was comended.Ther mai no king himself excuse,Bot if justice he kepe and use,Which for teschuie crualteHe mot attempre with Pite.

Of crualte the felonieEngendred is of tirannie,    3250Ayein the whos condicionGod is himself the champion,Whos strengthe mai noman withstonde.For evere yit it hath so stonde,That god a tirant overladde;Bot wher Pite the regne ladde,Ther mihte no fortune lasteWhich was grevous, bot ate lasteThe god himself it hath redresced.Pite is thilke vertu blessed    3260Which nevere let his Maister falle;Bot crualte, thogh it so falleThat it mai regne for a throwe,God wole it schal ben overthrowe:Wherof ensamples ben ynowheOf hem that thilke merel drowhe.

Of crualte I rede thus:Whan the tirant LeonciusWas to thempire of Rome arrived,Fro which he hath with strengthe prived    3270The pietous Justinian,As he which was a cruel man,His nase of and his lippes botheHe kutte, for he wolde him lotheUnto the poeple and make unable.Bot he which is al merciable,The hihe god, ordeigneth so,That he withinne a time also,Whan he was strengest in his ire,Was schoven out of his empire.    3280Tiberius the pouer hadde,And Rome after his will he ladde,And for Leonce in such a wiseOrdeigneth, that he tok juiseOf nase and lippes bothe tuo,For that he dede an other so,Which more worthi was than he.

Lo, which a fall hath crualte,And Pite was set up ayein:For after that the bokes sein,    3290Therbellis king of BulgarieWith helpe of his chivalerieJustinian hath unprisonedAnd to thempire ayein coroned.

In a Cronique I finde alsoOf Siculus, which was ek soA cruel king lich the tempeste,The whom no Pite myhte areste,—He was the ferste, as bokes seie,Upon the See which fond Galeie    3300And let hem make for the werre,—As he which al was out of herreFro Pite and misericorde;For therto couthe he noght acorde,Bot whom he myhte slen, he slouh,And therof was he glad ynouh.He hadde of conseil manyon,Among the whiche ther was on,Be name which Berillus hihte;And he bethoghte him hou he myhte    3310Unto the tirant do likinge,And of his oghne ymaginyngeLet forge and make a Bole of bras,And on the side cast ther wasA Dore, wher a man mai inne,Whan he his peine schal beginneThurgh fyr, which that men putten under.And al this dede he for a wonder,That whanne a man for peine cride,The Bole of bras, which gapeth wyde,    3320It scholde seme as thogh it wereA belwinge in a mannes Ere,And noght the criinge of a man.Bot he which alle sleihtes can,The devel, that lith in helle fast,Him that this caste hath overcast,That for a trespas which he dedeHe was putt in the same stede,And was himself the ferste of alleWhich was into that peine falle    3330That he for othre men ordeigneth;Ther was noman which him compleigneth.

Of tirannie and crualteBe this ensample a king mai se,Himself and ek his conseil bothe,Hou thei ben to mankinde lotheAnd to the god abhominable.Ensamples that ben concordableI finde of othre Princes mo,As thou schalt hiere, of time go.    3340The grete tirant Dionys,Which mannes lif sette of no pris,Unto his hors fulofte he yafThe men in stede of corn and chaf,So that the hors of thilke stodDevoureden the mennes blod;Til fortune ate laste cam,That Hercules him overcam,And he riht in the same wiseOf this tirant tok the juise:    3350As he til othre men hath do,The same deth he deide also,That no Pite him hath socoured,Til he was of hise hors devoured.

Of Lichaon also I findeHou he ayein the lawe of kindeHise hostes slouh, and into meteHe made her bodies to ben eteWith othre men withinne his hous.Bot Jupiter the glorious,    3360Which was commoeved of this thing,Vengance upon this cruel kingSo tok, that he fro mannes formeInto a wolf him let transforme:And thus the crualte was kidd,Which of long time he hadde hidd;A wolf he was thanne openly,The whos nature privelyHe hadde in his condicion.

And unto this conclusioun,    3370That tirannie is to despise,I finde ensample in sondri wise,And nameliche of hem fulofte,The whom fortune hath set alofteUpon the werres forto winne.Bot hou so that the wrong beginneOf tirannie, it mai noght laste,Bot such as thei don ate lasteTo othre men, such on hem falleth;For ayein suche Pite calleth    3380Vengance to the god above.For who that hath no tender loveIn savinge of a mannes lif,He schal be founde so gultif,That whanne he wolde mercy craveIn time of nede, he schal non have.

Of the natures this I finde,The fierce Leon in his kinde,Which goth rampende after his preie,If he a man finde in his weie,    3390He wole him slen, if he withstonde.Bot if the man coude understondeTo falle anon before his faceIn signe of mercy and of grace,The Leon schal of his natureRestreigne his ire in such mesure,As thogh it were a beste tamed,And torne awey halfvinge aschamed,That he the man schal nothing grieve.Hou scholde than a Prince achieve    3400The worldes grace, if that he woldeDestruie a man whanne he is yoldeAnd stant upon his mercy al?Bot forto speke in special,Ther have be suche and yit ther beTirantz, whos hertes no piteMai to no point of mercy plie,That thei upon her tirannieNe gladen hem the men to sle;And as the rages of the See    3410Ben unpitous in the tempeste,Riht so mai no Pite aresteOf crualte the gret oultrage,Which the tirant in his corageEngendred hath: wherof I findeA tale, which comth nou to mynde.

I rede in olde bokes thus:Ther was a Duk, which SpertachusMen clepe, and was a werreiour,A cruel man, a conquerour    3420With strong pouer the which he ladde.For this condicion he hadde,That where him hapneth the victoire,His lust and al his moste gloireWas forto sle and noght to save:Of rancoun wolde he no good haveFor savinge of a mannes lif,Bot al goth to the swerd and knyf,So lief him was the mannes blod.And natheles yit thus it stod,    3430So as fortune aboute wente,He fell riht heir as be descenteTo Perse, and was coroned king.And whan the worschipe of this thingWas falle, and he was king of Perse,If that thei weren ferst diverse,The tirannies whiche he wroghte,A thousendfold welmore he soghteThanne afterward to do malice.The god vengance ayein the vice    3440Hath schape: for upon a tyde,Whan he was heihest in his Pride,In his rancour and in his heteAyein the queene of Marsagete,Which Thameris that time hihte,He made werre al that he myhte:And sche, which wolde hir lond defende,Hir oghne Sone ayein him sende,Which the defence hath undertake.Bot he desconfit was and take;    3450And whan this king him hadde in honde,He wol no mercy understonde,Bot dede him slen in his presence.

The tidinge of this violenceWhan it cam to the moder Ere,Sche sende anon ay wydewhereTo suche frendes as sche hadde,A gret pouer til that sche ladde.In sondri wise and tho sche casteHou sche this king mai overcaste;    3460And ate laste acorded was,That in the danger of a pass,Thurgh which this tirant scholde passe,Sche schop his pouer to compasseWith strengthe of men be such a weieThat he schal noght eschape aweie.And whan sche hadde thus ordeigned,Sche hath hir oghne bodi feigned,For feere as thogh sche wolde fleeOut of hir lond: and whan that he    3470Hath herd hou that this ladi fledde,So faste after the chace he spedde,That he was founde out of array.For it betidde upon a day,Into the pas whanne he was falle,Thembuisschementz tobrieken alleAnd him beclipte on every side,That fle ne myhte he noght aside:So that ther weren dede and takeTuo hundred thousend for his sake,    3480That weren with him of his host.And thus was leid the grete bostOf him and of his tirannie:It halp no mercy forto crieTo him which whilom dede non;For he unto the queene anonWas broght, and whan that sche him sih,This word sche spak and seide on hih:“O man, which out of mannes kindeReson of man hast left behinde    3490And lived worse than a beste,Whom Pite myhte noght areste,The mannes blod to schede and spilleThou haddest nevere yit thi fille.Bot nou the laste time is come,That thi malice is overcome:As thou til othre men hast do,Nou schal be do to thee riht so.”Tho bad this ladi that men scholdeA vessel bringe, in which sche wolde    3500Se the vengance of his juise,Which sche began anon devise;And tok the Princes whiche he ladde,Be whom his chief conseil he hadde,And whil hem lasteth eny breth,Sche made hem blede to the dethInto the vessel wher it stod:And whan it was fulfild of blod,Sche caste this tirant therinne,And seide him, “Lo, thus myht thou wynne    3510The lustes of thin appetit.In blod was whilom thi delit,Nou schalt thou drinken al thi fille.”

And thus onliche of goddes wille,He which that wolde himselve strangeTo Pite, fond mercy so strange,That he withoute grace is lore.So may it schewe wel therforeThat crualte hath no good ende;Bot Pite, hou so that it wende,    3520Makth that the god is merciable,If ther be cause resonableWhy that a king schal be pitous.Bot elles, if he be doubtousTo slen in cause of rihtwisnesse,It mai be said no Pitousnesse,Bot it is Pusillamite,Which every Prince scholde flee.For if Pite mesure excede,Kinghode may noght wel procede    3530To do justice upon the riht:For it belongeth to a knyhtAls gladly forto fihte as reste,To sette his liege poeple in reste,Whan that the werre upon hem falleth;For thanne he mote, as it befalleth,Of his knyhthode as a LeonBe to the poeple a champiounWithouten eny Pite feigned.For if manhode be restreigned,    3540Or be it pes or be it werre,Justice goth al out of herre,So that knyhthode is set behinde.Of Aristotles lore I finde,A king schal make good visage,That noman knowe of his corageBot al honour and worthinesse:For if a king schal upon gesseWithoute verrai cause drede,He mai be lich to that I rede;    3550And thogh that it be lich a fable,Thensample is good and resonable.

As it be olde daies fell,I rede whilom that an hellUp in the londes of ArchadeA wonder dredful noise made;For so it fell that ilke day,This hell on his childinge lay,And whan the throwes on him come,His noise lich the day of dome    3560Was ferfull in a mannes thoghtOf thing which that thei sihe noght,Bot wel thei herden al abouteThe noise, of which thei were in doute,As thei that wenden to be loreOf thing which thanne was unbore.The nerr this hell was upon chanceTo taken his deliverance,The more unbuxomliche he cride;And every man was fledd aside,    3570For drede and lefte his oghne hous:And ate laste it was a Mous,The which was bore and to norriceBetake; and tho thei hield hem nyce,For thei withoute cause dradde.

Thus if a king his herte laddeWith every thing that he schal hiere,Fulofte he scholde change his chiereAnd upon fantasie drede,Whan that ther is no cause of drede.    3580

Orace to his Prince tolde,That him were levere that he woldeUpon knihthode Achillem suieIn time of werre, thanne eschuie,So as Tersites dede at Troie.Achilles al his hole joieSette upon Armes forto fihte;Tersites soghte al that he myhteUnarmed forto stonde in reste:Bot of the tuo it was the beste    3590That Achilles upon the nedeHath do, wherof his knyhtlihiedeIs yit comended overal.

King Salomon in specialSeith, as ther is a time of pes,So is a time nathelesOf werre, in which a Prince algateSchal for the comun riht debateAnd for his oghne worschipe eke.Bot it behoveth noght to seke    3600Only the werre for worschipe,Bot to the riht of his lordschipe,Which he is holde to defende,Mote every worthi Prince entende.Betwen the simplesce of PiteAnd the folhaste of crualte,Wher stant the verray hardiesce,Ther mote a king his herte adresce,Whanne it is time to forsake,And whan time is also to take    3610The dedly werres upon honde,That he schal for no drede wonde,If rihtwisnesse be withal.For god is myhty overalTo forthren every mannes trowthe,Bot it be thurgh his oghne slowthe;And namely the kinges nedeIt mai noght faile forto spede,For he stant one for hem alle;So mote it wel the betre falle    3620And wel the more god favoureth,Whan he the comun riht socoureth.And forto se the sothe in dede,Behold the bible and thou myht redeOf grete ensamples manyon,Wherof that I wol tellen on.

Upon a time as it befell,Ayein Judee and IrahelWhan sondri kinges come wereIn pourpos to destruie there    3630The poeple which god kepte tho,—And stod in thilke daies so,That Gedeon, which scholde ledeThe goddes folk, tok him to rede,And sende in al the lond aboute,Til he assembled hath a routeWith thritti thousend of defence,To fihte and make resistenceAyein the whiche hem wolde assaille:And natheles that o bataille    3640Of thre that weren enemysWas double mor than was al his;Wherof that Gedeon him dradde,That he so litel poeple hadde.Bot he which alle thing mai helpe,Wher that ther lacketh mannes helpe,To Gedeon his Angel sente,And bad, er that he forther wente,Al openly that he do crieThat every man in his partie    3650Which wolde after his oghne willeIn his delice abide stilleAt hom in eny maner wise,For pourchas or for covoitise,For lust of love or lacke of herte,He scholde noght aboute sterte,Bot holde him stille at hom in pes:Wherof upon the morwe he lesWel twenty thousend men and mo,The whiche after the cri ben go.    3660Thus was with him bot only leftThe thridde part, and yit god eftHis Angel sende and seide thisTo Gedeon: “If it so isThat I thin help schal undertake,Thou schalt yit lasse poeple take,Be whom mi will is that thou spede.Forthi tomorwe tak good hiede,Unto the flod whan ye be come,What man that hath the water nome    3670Up in his hond and lapeth so,To thi part ches out alle tho;And him which wery is to swinke,Upon his wombe and lith to drinke,Forsak and put hem alle aweie.For I am myhti alle weie,Wher as me list myn help to scheweIn goode men, thogh thei ben fewe.”

This Gedeon awaiteth wel,Upon the morwe and everydel,    3680As god him bad, riht so he dede.And thus ther leften in that stedeWith him thre hundred and nomo,The remenant was al ago:Wherof that Gedeon merveileth,And therupon with god conseileth,Pleignende as ferforth as he dar.And god, which wolde he were warThat he schal spede upon his riht,Hath bede him go the same nyht    3690And take a man with him, to hiereWhat schal be spoke in his matereAmong the hethen enemis;So mai he be the more wys,What afterward him schal befalle.

This Gedeon amonges allePhara, to whom he triste most,Be nyhte tok toward thilke host,Which logged was in a valleie,To hiere what thei wolden seie;    3700Upon his fot and as he ferde,Tuo Sarazins spekende he herde.Quod on, “Ared mi swevene ariht,Which I mette in mi slep to nyht.

Me thoghte I sih a barli cake,Which fro the Hull his weie hath take,And cam rollende doun at ones;And as it were for the nones,Forth in his cours so as it ran,The kinges tente of Madian,    3710Of Amalech, of Amoreie,Of Amon and of Jebuseie,And many an other tente moWith gret noise, as me thoghte tho,It threw to grounde and overcaste,And al this host so sore agasteThat I awok for pure drede.”

“This swevene can I wel arede,”Quod thother Sarazin anon:“The barli cake is Gedeon,    3720Which fro the hell doun sodeinlySchal come and sette such ascryUpon the kinges and ous bothe,That it schal to ous alle lothe:For in such drede he schal ous bringe,That if we hadden flyht of wynge,The weie on fote in desespeirWe scholden leve and flen in their,For ther schal nothing him withstonde.”

Whan Gedeon hath understonde    3730This tale, he thonketh god of al,And priveliche ayein he stal,So that no lif him hath perceived.And thanne he hath fulli conceivedThat he schal spede; and theruponThe nyht suiende he schop to gonThis multitude to assaile.Nou schalt thou hiere a gret mervaile,With what voisdie that he wroghte.The litel poeple which he broghte,    3740Was non of hem that he ne hathA pot of erthe, in which he tathA lyht brennende in a kressette,And ech of hem ek a trompetteBar in his other hond beside;And thus upon the nyhtes tydeDuk Gedeon, whan it was derk,Ordeineth him unto his werk,And parteth thanne his folk in thre,And chargeth hem that thei ne fle,    3750And tawhte hem hou they scholde ascrieAlle in o vois per compaignie,And what word ek thei scholden speke,And hou thei scholde here pottes brekeEchon with other, whan thei herdeThat he himselve ferst so ferde;For whan thei come into the stede,He bad hem do riht as he dede.

And thus stalkende forth a pasThis noble Duk, whan time was,    3760His pot tobrak and loude ascride,And tho thei breke on every side.The trompe was noght forto seke;He blew, and so thei blewen ekeWith such a noise among hem alle,As thogh the hevene scholde falle.The hull unto here vois ansuerde,This host in the valleie it herde,And sih hou that the hell alyhte;So what of hieringe and of sihte,    3770Thei cawhten such a sodein feere,That non of hem belefte there:The tentes hole thei forsoke,That thei non other good ne toke,Bot only with here bodi bareThei fledde, as doth the wylde Hare.And evere upon the hull thei blewe,Til that thei sihe time, and kneweThat thei be fled upon the rage;And whan thei wiste here avantage,    3780Thei felle anon unto the chace.

Thus myht thou sen hou goddes graceUnto the goode men availeth;But elles ofte time it failethTo suche as be noght wel disposed.This tale nedeth noght be glosed,For it is openliche schewedThat god to hem that ben wel thewedHath yove and granted the victoire:So that thensample of this histoire    3790Is good for every king to holde;Ferst in himself that he beholdeIf he be good of his livinge,And that the folk which he schal bringeBe good also, for thanne he mayBe glad of many a merie day,In what as evere he hath to done.For he which sit above the MoneAnd alle thing mai spille and spede,In every cause, in every nede    3800His goode king so wel adresceth,That alle his fomen he represseth,So that ther mai noman him dere;And als so wel he can forbere,And soffre a wickid king to falleIn hondes of his fomen alle.

Nou forthermore if I schal seinOf my matiere, and torne ayeinTo speke of justice and PiteAfter the reule of realte,    3810This mai a king wel understonde,Knihthode mot ben take on honde,Whan that it stant upon the nede:He schal no rihtful cause drede,Nomore of werre thanne of pes,If he wol stonde blameles;For such a cause a king mai haveThat betre him is to sle than save,Wherof thou myht ensample finde.The hihe makere of mankinde    3820Be Samuel to Saul bad,That he schal nothing ben adradAyein king Agag forto fihte;For this the godhede him behihte,That Agag schal ben overcome:And whan it is so ferforth come,That Saul hath him desconfit,The god bad make no respit,That he ne scholde him slen anon.Bot Saul let it overgon    3830And dede noght the goddes heste:For Agag made gret behesteOf rancoun which he wolde yive,King Saul soffreth him to liveAnd feigneth pite forth withal.Bot he which seth and knoweth al,The hihe god, of that he feignethTo Samuel upon him pleigneth,And sende him word, for that he lefteOf Agag that he ne berefte    3840The lif, he schal noght only dyeHimself, bot fro his regalieHe schal be put for everemo,Noght he, bot ek his heir also,That it schal nevere come ayein.

Thus myht thou se the sothe plein,That of tomoche and of tolyteUpon the Princes stant the wyte.Bot evere it was a kinges rihtTo do the dedes of a knyht;    3850For in the handes of a kingThe deth and lif is al o thingAfter the lawes of justice.To slen it is a dedly vice,Bot if a man the deth deserve;And if a king the lif preserveOf him which oghte forto dye,He suieth noght thensamplerieWhich in the bible is evident:Hou David in his testament,    3860Whan he no lengere myhte live,Unto his Sone in charge hath yiveThat he Joab schal slen algate;And whan David was gon his gate,The yonge wise SalomonHis fader heste dede anon,And slouh Joab in such a wise,That thei that herden the juiseEvere after dradden him the more,And god was ek wel paid therfore,    3870That he so wolde his herte plyeThe lawes forto justefie.And yit he kepte forth withalPite, so as a Prince schal,That he no tirannie wroghte;He fond the wisdom which he soghte,And was so rihtful natheles,That al his lif he stod in pes,That he no dedly werres hadde,For every man his wisdom dradde.    3880And as he was himselve wys,Riht so the worthi men of prisHe hath of his conseil withholde;For that is every Prince holde,To make of suche his retenueWhiche wise ben, and to remueThe foles: for ther is nothingWhich mai be betre aboute a king,Than conseil, which is the substanceOf all a kinges governance.    3890

In Salomon a man mai seeWhat thing of most necessiteUnto a worthi king belongeth.Whan he his kingdom underfongeth,God bad him chese what he wolde,And seide him that he have scholdeWhat he wolde axe, as of o thing.And he, which was a newe king,Forth therupon his bone preideTo god, and in this wise he seide:    3900“O king, be whom that I schal regne,Yif me wisdom, that I my regne,Forth with thi poeple which I have,To thin honour mai kepe and save.”Whan Salomon his bone hath taxed,The god of that which he hath axedWas riht wel paid, and granteth soneNoght al only that he his boneSchal have of that, bot of richesse,Of hele, of pes, of hih noblesse,    3910Forth with wisdom at his axinges,Which stant above alle othre thinges.

Bot what king wole his regne save,Ferst him behoveth forto haveAfter the god and his believeSuch conseil which is to believe,Fulfild of trouthe and rihtwisnesse:Bot above alle in his noblesseBetwen the reddour and piteA king schal do such equite    3920And sette the balance in evene,So that the hihe god in heveneAnd al the poeple of his nobleieLoange unto his name seie.For most above all erthli good,Wher that a king himself is goodIt helpeth, for in other weieIf so be that a king forsueie,Fulofte er this it hath be sein,The comun poeple is overlein    3930And hath the kinges Senne aboght,Al thogh the poeple agulte noght.Of that the king his god misserveth,The poeple takth that he descervethHier in this world, bot elleswhereI not hou it schal stonde there.Forthi good is a king to tristeFerst to himself, as he ne wisteNon other help bot god alone;So schal the reule of his persone    3940Withinne himself thurgh providenceBen of the betre conscience.And forto finde ensample of this,A tale I rede, and soth it is.

In a Cronique it telleth thus:The king of Rome LuciusWithinne his chambre upon a nyhtThe Steward of his hous, a knyht,Forth with his Chamberlein also,To conseil hadde bothe tuo,    3950And stoden be the ChimineeTogedre spekende alle thre.And happeth that the kinges folSat be the fyr upon a stol,As he that with his babil pleide,Bot yit he herde al that thei seide,And therof token thei non hiede.The king hem axeth what to redeOf such matiere as cam to mouthe,And thei him tolden as thei couthe.    3960Whan al was spoke of that thei mente,The king with al his hole ententeThanne ate laste hem axeth this,What king men tellen that he is:Among the folk touchende his name,Or be it pris, or be it blame,Riht after that thei herden sein,He bad hem forto telle it plein,That thei no point of soth forbere,Be thilke feith that thei him bere.    3970

The Steward ferst upon this thingYaf his ansuere unto the kingAnd thoghte glose in this matiere,And seide, als fer as he can hiere,His name is good and honourable:Thus was the Stieward favorable,That he the trouthe plein ne tolde.The king thanne axeth, as he scholde,The Chamberlein of his avis.

And he, that was soubtil and wys,    3980And somdiel thoghte upon his feith,Him tolde hou al the poeple seithThat if his conseil were trewe,Thei wiste thanne wel and kneweThat of himself he scholde beA worthi king in his degre:And thus the conseil he accusethIn partie, and the king excuseth.

The fol, which herde of al the casThat time, as goddes wille was,    3990Sih that thei seiden noght ynowh,And hem to skorne bothe lowh,And to the king he seide tho:“Sire king, if that it were so,Of wisdom in thin oghne modThat thou thiselven were good,Thi conseil scholde noght be badde.”The king therof merveille hadde,Whan that a fol so wisly spak,And of himself fond out the lack    4000Withinne his oghne conscience:And thus the foles evidence,Which was of goddes grace enspired,Makth that good conseil was desired.He putte awey the viciousAnd tok to him the vertuous;The wrongful lawes ben amended,The londes good is wel despended,The poeple was nomore oppressed,And thus stod every thing redressed.    4010For where a king is propre wys,And hath suche as himselven isOf his conseil, it mai noght faileThat every thing ne schal availe:The vices thanne gon aweie,And every vertu holt his weie;Wherof the hihe god is plesed,And al the londes folk is esed.For if the comun poeple crie,And thanne a king list noght to plie    4020To hiere what the clamour wolde,And otherwise thanne he scholdeDesdeigneth forto don hem grace,It hath be sen in many place,Ther hath befalle gret contraire;And that I finde of ensamplaire.

After the deth of Salomon,Whan thilke wise king was gon,And Roboas in his personeReceive scholde the corone,    4030The poeple upon a ParlementAvised were of on assent,And alle unto the king thei preiden,With comun vois and thus thei seiden:

“Oure liege lord, we thee besecheThat thou receive oure humble specheAnd grante ous that which reson wile,Or of thi grace or of thi skile.Thi fader, whil he was alyveAnd myhte bothe grante and pryve,    4040Upon the werkes whiche he haddeThe comun poeple streite ladde:Whan he the temple made newe,Thing which men nevere afore kneweHe broghte up thanne of his taillage,And al was under the visageOf werkes whiche he made tho.Bot nou it is befalle so,That al is mad, riht as he seide,And he was riche whan he deide;    4050So that it is no maner nede,If thou therof wolt taken hiede,To pilen of the poeple more,Which long time hath be grieved sore.And in this wise as we thee seie,With tendre herte we thee preieThat thou relesse thilke dette,Which upon ous thi fader sette.And if thee like to don so,We ben thi men for everemo,    4060To gon and comen at thin heste.”

The king, which herde this requeste,Seith that he wole ben avised,And hath therof a time assised;And in the while as he him thoghteUpon this thing, conseil he soghte.And ferst the wise knyhtes olde,To whom that he his tale tolde,Conseilen him in this manere;That he with love and with glad chiere    4070Foryive and grante al that is axedOf that his fader hadde taxed;For so he mai his regne achieveWith thing which schal him litel grieve.

The king hem herde and overpasseth,And with these othre his wit compasseth,That yonge were and nothing wise.And thei these olde men despise,And seiden: “Sire, it schal be schameFor evere unto thi worthi name,    4080If thou ne kepe noght the riht,Whil thou art in thi yonge myht,Which that thin olde fader gat.Bot seie unto the poeple plat,That whil thou livest in thi lond,The leste finger of thin hondIt schal be strengere overalThan was thi fadres bodi al.And this also schal be thi tale,If he hem smot with roddes smale,    4090With Scorpions thou schalt hem smyte;And wher thi fader tok a lyte,Thou thenkst to take mochel more.Thus schalt thou make hem drede soreThe grete herte of thi corage,So forto holde hem in servage.

This yonge king him hath conformedTo don as he was last enformed,Which was to him his undoinge:For whan it cam to the spekinge,    4100He hath the yonge conseil holde,That he the same wordes toldeOf al the poeple in audience;And whan thei herden the sentenceOf his malice and the manace,Anon tofore his oghne faceThei have him oultreli refusedAnd with ful gret reproef accused.So thei begunne forto rave,That he was fain himself to save;    4110For as the wilde wode rageOf wyndes makth the See salvage,And that was calm bringth into wawe,So for defalte of grace and laweThis poeple is stered al at onesAnd forth thei gon out of hise wones;So that of the lignages tuelveTuo tribes only be hemselveWith him abiden and nomo:So were thei for everemo    4120Of no retorn withoute espeirDeparted fro the rihtfull heir.Al Irahel with comun voisA king upon here oghne choisAmong hemself anon thei make,And have here yonge lord forsake;A povere knyht JeroboasThei toke, and lefte Roboas,Which rihtfull heir was be descente.

Lo, thus the yonge cause wente:    4130For that the conseil was noght good,The regne fro the rihtfull blodEvere afterward divided was.So mai it proven be this casThat yong conseil, which is to warm,Er men be war doth ofte harm.Old age for the conseil serveth,And lusti youthe his thonk deservethUpon the travail which he doth;And bothe, forto seie a soth,    4140Be sondri cause forto have,If that he wole his regne save,A king behoveth every day.That on can and that other mai,Be so the king hem bothe reule,For elles al goth out of reule.

And upon this matiere alsoA question betwen the tuoThus writen in a bok I fond;Wher it be betre for the lond    4150A king himselve to be wys,And so to bere his oghne pris,And that his consail be noght good,Or other wise if it so stod,A king if he be viciousAnd his conseil be vertuous.It is ansuerd in such a wise,That betre it is that thei be wiseBe whom that the conseil schal gon,For thei be manye, and he is on;    4160And rathere schal an one manWith fals conseil, for oght he can,From his wisdom be mad to falle,Thanne he al one scholde hem alleFro vices into vertu change,For that is wel the more strange.

Forthi the lond mai wel be glad,Whos king with good conseil is lad,Which set him unto rihtwisnesse,So that his hihe worthinesse    4170Betwen the reddour and PiteDoth mercy forth with equite.A king is holden overalTo Pite, bot in specialTo hem wher he is most beholde;Thei scholde his Pite most beholdeThat ben the Lieges of his lond,For thei ben evere under his hondAfter the goddes ordinaunceTo stonde upon his governance.    4180

Of themperour AnthoniusI finde hou that he seide thus,That levere him were forto saveOon of his lieges than to haveOf enemis a thousend dede.And this he lernede, as I rede,Of Cipio, which hadde beConsul of Rome. And thus to seDiverse ensamples hou thei stonde,A king which hath the charge on honde    4190The comun poeple to governe,If that he wole, he mai wel lerne.Is non so good to the plesanceOf god, as is good governance;And every governance is dueTo Pite: thus I mai argueThat Pite is the foundementOf every kinges regiment,If it be medled with justice.Thei tuo remuen alle vice,    4200And ben of vertu most vailableTo make a kinges regne stable.

Lo, thus the foure pointz tofore,In governance as thei ben bore,Of trouthe ferst and of largesse,Of Pite forth with rihtwisnesse,I have hem told; and over thisThe fifte point, so as it isSet of the reule of Policie,Wherof a king schal modefie    4210The fleisschly lustes of nature,Nou thenk I telle of such mesure,That bothe kinde schal be servedAnd ek the lawe of god observed.

The Madle is mad for the the femele,Bot where as on desireth fele,That nedeth noght be weie of kinde:For whan a man mai redy findeHis oghne wif, what scholde he secheIn strange places to beseche    4220To borwe an other mannes plouh,Whan he hath geere good ynouhAffaited at his oghne heste,And is to him wel more honesteThan other thing which is unknowe?Forthi scholde every good man knoweAnd thenke, hou that in mariageHis trouthe pliht lith in morgage,Which if he breke, it is falshode,And that descordeth to manhode,    4230And namely toward the grete,Wherof the bokes alle trete;So as the Philosophre techethTo Alisandre, and him betechethThe lore hou that he schal mesureHis bodi, so that no mesureOf fleisshly lust he scholde excede.And thus forth if I schal procede,The fifte point, as I seide er,Is chastete, which sielde wher    4240Comth nou adaies into place;And natheles, bot it be graceAbove alle othre in special,Is non that chaste mai ben all.Bot yit a kinges hihe astat,Which of his ordre as a prelatSchal ben enoignt and seintefied,He mot be more magnefiedFor dignete of his corone,Than scholde an other low persone,    4250Which is noght of so hih emprise.Therfore a Prince him scholde avise,Er that he felle in such riote,And namely that he nassoteTo change for the wommanhedeThe worthinesse of his manhede.

Of Aristotle I have wel rad,Hou he to Alisandre bad,That forto gladen his corageHe schal beholde the visage    4260Of wommen, whan that thei ben faire.Bot yit he set an essamplaire,His bodi so to guide and reule,That he ne passe noght the reule,Wherof that he himself beguile.For in the womman is no guileOf that a man himself bewhapeth;Whan he his oghne wit bejapeth,I can the wommen wel excuse:Bot what man wole upon hem muse    4270After the fool impressionOf his ymaginacioun,Withinne himself the fyr he bloweth,Wherof the womman nothing knoweth,So mai sche nothing be to wyte.For if a man himself exciteTo drenche, and wol it noght forbere,The water schal no blame bere.What mai the gold, thogh men coveite?If that a man wol love streite,    4280The womman hath him nothing bounde;If he his oghne herte wounde,Sche mai noght lette the folie;And thogh so felle of compainieThat he myht eny thing pourchace,Yit makth a man the ferste chace,The womman fleth and he poursuieth:So that be weie of skile it suieth,The man is cause, hou so befalle,That he fulofte sithe is falle    4290Wher that he mai noght wel aryse.And natheles ful manye wiseBefoled have hemself er this,As nou adaies yit it isAmong the men and evere was,The stronge is fieblest in this cas.It sit a man be weie of kindeTo love, bot it is noght kindeA man for love his wit to lese:For if the Monthe of Juil schal frese    4300And that Decembre schal ben hot,The yeer mistorneth, wel I wot.To sen a man fro his astatThurgh his sotie effeminat,And leve that a man schal do,It is as Hose above the Scho,To man which oghte noght ben used.Bot yit the world hath ofte accusedFul grete Princes of this dede,Hou thei for love hemself mislede,    4310Wherof manhode stod behinde,Of olde ensamples as I finde.

These olde gestes tellen thus,That whilom Sardana Pallus,Which hield al hol in his empireThe grete kingdom of Assire,Was thurgh the slouthe of his corageFalle into thilke fyri rageOf love, which the men assoteth,Wherof himself he so rioteth,    4320And wax so ferforth wommannyssh,That ayein kinde, as if a fisshAbide wolde upon the lond,In wommen such a lust he fond,That he duelte evere in chambre stille,And only wroghte after the willeOf wommen, so as he was bede,That selden whanne in other stedeIf that he wolde wenden oute,To sen hou that it stod aboute.    4330Bot ther he keste and there he pleide,Thei tawhten him a Las to breide,And weve a Pours, and to enfileA Perle: and fell that ilke while,On Barbarus the Prince of MedeSih hou this king in wommanhedeWas falle fro chivalerie,And gat him help and compaignie,And wroghte so, that ate lasteThis king out of his regne he caste,    4340Which was undon for everemo:And yit men speken of him so,That it is schame forto hiere.

Forthi to love is in manere.King David hadde many a love,Bot natheles alwey aboveKnyhthode he kepte in such a wise,That for no fleisshli covoitiseOf lust to ligge in ladi armesHe lefte noght the lust of armes.    4350For where a Prince hise lustes suieth,That he the werre noght poursuieth,Whan it is time to ben armed,His contre stant fulofte harmed,Whan thenemis ben woxe bolde,That thei defence non beholde.Ful many a lond hath so be lore,As men mai rede of time aforeOf hem that so here eses soghten,Which after thei full diere aboghten.    4360

To mochel ese is nothing worth,For that set every vice forthAnd every vertu put abak,Wherof priss torneth into lak,As in Cronique I mai reherse:Which telleth hou the king of Perse,That Cirus hihte, a werre haddeAyein a poeple which he dradde,Of a contre which Liddos hihte;Bot yit for oght that he do mihte    4370As in bataille upon the werre,He hadde of hem alwey the werre.And whan he sih and wiste it wel,That he be strengthe wan no del,Thanne ate laste he caste a wyleThis worthi poeple to beguile,And tok with hem a feigned pes,Which scholde lasten endeles,So as he seide in wordes wise,Bot he thoghte al in other wise.    4380For it betidd upon the cas,Whan that this poeple in reste was,Thei token eses manyfold;And worldes ese, as it is told,Be weie of kinde is the norriceOf every lust which toucheth vice.Thus whan thei were in lustes falle,The werres ben foryeten alle;Was non which wolde the worschipeOf Armes, bot in idelschipe    4390Thei putten besinesse aweieAnd token hem to daunce and pleie;Bot most above alle othre thingesThei token hem to the likingesOf fleysshly lust, that chasteteReceived was in no degre,Bot every man doth what him liste.And whan the king of Perse it wiste,That thei unto folie entenden,With his pouer, whan thei lest wenden,    4400Mor sodeinly than doth the thunderHe cam, for evere and put hem under.And thus hath lecherie loreThe lond, which hadde be toforeThe beste of hem that were tho.

And in the bible I finde alsoA tale lich unto this thing,Hou Amalech the paien king,Whan that he myhte be no weieDefende his lond and putte aweie    4410The worthi poeple of Irael,This Sarazin, as it befell,Thurgh the conseil of BalaamA route of faire wommen nam,That lusti were and yonge of Age,And bad hem gon to the lignageOf these Hebreus: and forth thei wenteWith yhen greye and browes benteAnd wel arraied everych on;And whan thei come were anon    4420Among thebreus, was non insihte,Bot cacche who that cacche myhte,And ech of hem hise lustes soghte,Whiche after thei full diere boghte.For grace anon began to faile,That whan thei comen to batailleThanne afterward, in sori plitThei were take and disconfit,So that withinne a litel throweThe myht of hem was overthrowe,    4430That whilom were wont to stonde.Til Phinees the cause on hondeHath take, this vengance laste,Bot thanne it cessede ate laste,For god was paid of that he dede:For wher he fond upon a stedeA couple which misferde so,Thurghout he smot hem bothe tuo,And let hem ligge in mennes yhe;Wherof alle othre whiche hem sihe    4440Ensamplede hem upon the dede,And preiden unto the godhiedeHere olde Sennes to amende:And he, which wolde his mercy sende,Restorede hem to newe grace.

Thus mai it schewe in sondri place,Of chastete hou the clennesseAcordeth to the worthinesseOf men of Armes overal;Bot most of alle in special    4450This vertu to a king belongeth,For upon his fortune it hongethOf that his lond schal spede or spille.Forthi bot if a king his willeFro lustes of his fleissh restreigne,Ayein himself he makth a treigne,Into the which if that he slyde,Him were betre go besyde.For every man mai understonde,Hou for a time that it stonde,    4460It is a sori lust to lyke,Whos ende makth a man to sykeAnd torneth joies into sorwe.The brihte Sonne be the morweBeschyneth noght the derke nyht,The lusti youthe of mannes myht,In Age bot it stonde wel,Mistorneth al the laste whiel.

That every worthi Prince is holdeWithinne himself himself beholde,    4470To se the stat of his persone,And thenke hou ther be joies noneUpon this Erthe mad to laste,And hou the fleissh schal ate lasteThe lustes of this lif forsake,Him oghte a gret ensample takeOf Salomon, whos appetitWas holy set upon delit,To take of wommen the plesance:So that upon his ignorance    4480The wyde world merveileth yit,That he, which alle mennes witIn thilke time hath overpassed,With fleisshly lustes was so tassed,That he which ladde under the laweThe poeple of god, himself withdraweHe hath fro god in such a wise,That he worschipe and sacrifiseFor sondri love in sondri stedeUnto the false goddes dede.    4490This was the wise ecclesiaste,The fame of whom schal evere laste,That he the myhti god forsok,Ayein the lawe whanne he tokHis wyves and his concubinesOf hem that weren Sarazines,For whiche he dede ydolatrie.For this I rede of his sotie:

Sche of Sidoyne so him ladde,That he knelende his armes spradde    4500To Astrathen with gret humblesse,Which of hire lond was the goddesse:

And sche that was a MoabiteSo ferforth made him to deliteThurgh lust, which al his wit devoureth,That he Chamos hire god honoureth.

An other Amonyte alsoWith love him hath assoted so,Hire god Moloch that with encenseHe sacreth, and doth reverence    4510In such a wise as sche him bad.Thus was the wiseste overladWith blinde lustes whiche he soghte;Bot he it afterward aboghte.

For Achias Selonites,Which was prophete, er his decess,Whil he was in hise lustes alle,Betokneth what schal after falle.For on a day, whan that he metteJeroboam the knyht, he grette    4520And bad him that he scholde abyde,To hiere what him schal betyde.And forth withal Achias casteHis mantell of, and also fasteHe kut it into pieces twelve,Wherof tuo partz toward himselveHe kepte, and al the remenant,As god hath set his covenant,He tok unto Jeroboas,Of Nabal which the Sone was,    4530And of the kinges court a knyht:And seide him, “Such is goddes myht,As thou hast sen departed hiereMi mantell, riht in such manereAfter the deth of SalomonGod hath ordeigned therupon,This regne thanne he schal divide:Which time thou schalt ek abide,And upon that divisionThe regne as in proporcion    4540As thou hast of mi mantell take,Thou schalt receive, I undertake.And thus the Sone schal abieThe lustes and the lecherieOf him which nou his fader is.”

So forto taken hiede of this,It sit a king wel to be chaste,For elles he mai lihtly wasteHimself and ek his regne bothe,And that oghte every king to lothe.    4550O, which a Senne violent,Wherof so wys a king was schent,That the vengance in his personeWas noght ynouh to take al one,Bot afterward, whan he was passed,It hath his heritage lassed,As I more openli toforeThe tale tolde. And thus therforeThe Philosophre upon this thingWrit and conseileth to a king,    4560That he the surfet of luxureSchal tempre and reule of such mesure,Which be to kinde sufficantAnd ek to reson acordant,So that the lustes ignoranceBe cause of no misgovernance,Thurgh which that he be overthrowe,As he that wol no reson knowe.For bot a mannes wit be swerved,Whan kinde is dueliche served,    4570It oghte of reson to suffise;For if it falle him otherwise,He mai tho lustes sore drede.

For of Anthonie thus I rede,Which of Severus was the Sone,That he his lif of comun woneYaf holy unto thilke vice,And ofte time he was so nyce,Wherof nature hire hath compleignedUnto the god, which hath desdeigned    4580The werkes whiche Antonie wroghteOf lust, whiche he ful sore aboghte:For god his forfet hath so wrokeThat in Cronique it is yit spoke.Bot forto take remembranceOf special misgovernanceThurgh covoitise and injusticeForth with the remenant of vice,And nameliche of lecherie,I finde write a gret partie    4590Withinne a tale, as thou schalt hiere,Which is thensample of this matiere.

So as these olde gestes sein,The proude tirannyssh RomeinTarquinus, which was thanne kingAnd wroghte many a wrongful thing,Of Sones hadde manyon,Among the whiche Arrons was on,Lich to his fader of maneres;So that withinne a fewe yeres    4600With tresoun and with tirannieThei wonne of lond a gret partie,And token hiede of no justice,Which due was to here officeUpon the reule of governance;Bot al that evere was plesanceUnto the fleisshes lust thei toke.And fell so, that thei undertokeA werre, which was noght achieved,Bot ofte time it hadde hem grieved,    4610Ayein a folk which thanne hihteThe Gabiens: and al be nyhteThis Arrons, whan he was at homIn Rome, a prive place he nomWithinne a chambre, and bet himselveAnd made him woundes ten or tuelveUpon the bak, as it was sene;And so forth with hise hurtes greneIn al the haste that he mayHe rod, and cam that other day    4620Unto Gabie the Cite,And in he wente: and whan that heWas knowe, anon the gates schette,The lordes alle upon him setteWith drawe swerdes upon honde.This Arrons wolde hem noght withstonde,Bot seide, “I am hier at your wille,Als lief it is that ye me spille,As if myn oghne fader dede.”And forthwith in the same stede    4630He preide hem that thei wolde se,And schewede hem in what degreHis fader and hise brethren bothe,Whiche, as he seide, weren wrothe,Him hadde beten and reviled,For evere and out of Rome exiled.And thus he made hem to believe,And seide, if that he myhte achieveHis pourpos, it schal wel be yolde,Be so that thei him helpe wolde.    4640

Whan that the lordes hadde seinHou wofully he was besein,Thei token Pite of his grief;Bot yit it was hem wonder liefThat Rome him hadde exiled so.These Gabiens be conseil thoUpon the goddes made him swere,That he to hem schal trouthe bereAnd strengthen hem with al his myht;And thei also him have behiht    4650To helpen him in his querele.Thei schopen thanne for his heleThat he was bathed and enoignt,Til that he was in lusti point;And what he wolde thanne he hadde,That he al hol the cite laddeRiht as he wolde himself divise.And thanne he thoghte him in what wiseHe myhte his tirannie schewe;And to his conseil tok a schrewe,    4660Whom to his fader forth he senteIn his message, and he tho wente,And preide his fader forto seieBe his avis, and finde a weie,Hou they the cite myhten winne,Whil that he stod so wel therinne.And whan the messager was comeTo Rome, and hath in conseil nomeThe king, it fell per chance soThat thei were in a gardin tho,    4670This messager forth with the king.And whanne he hadde told the thingIn what manere that it stod,And that Tarquinus understodBe the message hou that it ferde,Anon he tok in honde a yerde,And in the gardin as thei gon,The lilie croppes on and on,Wher that thei weren sprongen oute,He smot of, as thei stode aboute,    4680And seide unto the messager:“Lo, this thing, which I do nou hier,Schal ben in stede of thin ansuere;And in this wise as I me bere,Thou schalt unto mi Sone telle.”And he no lengere wolde duelle,Bot tok his leve and goth withalUnto his lord, and told him al,Hou that his fader hadde do.Whan Arrons herde him telle so,    4690Anon he wiste what it mente,And therto sette al his entente,Til he thurgh fraude and tricherieThe Princes hefdes of GabieHath smiten of, and al was wonne:His fader cam tofore the SonneInto the toun with the Romeins,And tok and slowh the citezeinsWithoute reson or pite,That he ne spareth no degre.    4700And for the sped of this conquesteHe let do make a riche festeWith a sollempne SacrifiseIn Phebus temple; and in this wiseWhan the Romeins assembled were,In presence of hem alle there,Upon thalter whan al was dihtAnd that the fyres were alyht,From under thalter sodeinlyAn hidous Serpent openly    4710Cam out and hath devoured alThe Sacrifice, and ek withalThe fyres queynt, and forth anon,So as he cam, so is he gonInto the depe ground ayein.And every man began to sein,“Ha lord, what mai this signefie?”And therupon thei preie and crieTo Phebus, that thei mihten knoweThe cause: and he the same throwe    4720With gastly vois, that alle it herde,The Romeins in this wise ansuerde,And seide hou for the wikkidnesseOf Pride and of unrihtwisnesse,That Tarquin and his Sone hath do,The Sacrifice is wasted so,Which myhte noght ben acceptableUpon such Senne abhominable.And over that yit he hem wisseth,And seith that which of hem ferst kisseth    4730His moder, he schal take wriecheUpon the wrong: and of that specheThei ben withinne here hertes glade,Thogh thei outward no semblant made.Ther was a knyht which Brutus hihte,And he with al the haste he myhteTo grounde fell and therthe kiste,Bot non of hem the cause wiste,Bot wenden that he hadde spornedPer chance, and so was overtorned.    4740Bot Brutus al an other mente;For he knew wel in his ententeHou therthe of every mannes kindeIs Moder: bot thei weren blinde,And sihen noght so fer as he.Bot whan thei leften the CiteAnd comen hom to Rome ayein,Thanne every man which was RomeinAnd moder hath, to hire he bendeAnd keste, and ech of hem thus wende    4750To be the ferste upon the chance,Of Tarquin forto do vengance,So as thei herden Phebus sein.

Bot every time hath his certein,So moste it nedes thanne abide,Til afterward upon a tydeTarquinus made unskilfullyA werre, which was fastebyAyein a toun with walles strongeWhich Ardea was cleped longe,    4760And caste a Siege theraboute,That ther mai noman passen oute.So it befell upon a nyht,Arrons, which hadde his souper diht,A part of the chivalerieWith him to soupe in compaignieHath bede: and whan thei comen wereAnd seten at the souper there,Among here othre wordes gladeArrons a gret spekinge made,    4770Who hadde tho the beste wifOf Rome: and ther began a strif,For Arrons seith he hath the beste.So jangle thei withoute reste,Til ate laste on Collatin,A worthi knyht, and was cousinTo Arrons, seide him in this wise:“It is,” quod he, “of non empriseTo speke a word, bot of the dede,Therof it is to taken hiede.    4780Anon forthi this same tydeLep on thin hors and let ous ryde:So mai we knowe bothe tuoUnwarli what oure wyves do,And that schal be a trewe assay.”This Arrons seith noght ones nay:On horse bak anon thei lepteIn such manere, and nothing slepte,Ridende forth til that thei comeAl prively withinne Rome;    4790In strange place and doun thei lihte,And take a chambre, and out of sihteThei be desguised for a throwe,So that no lif hem scholde knowe.And to the paleis ferst thei soghte,To se what thing this ladi wroghteOf which Arrons made his avant:And thei hire sihe of glad semblant,Al full of merthes and of bordes;Bot among alle hire othre wordes    4800Sche spak noght of hire housebonde.And whan thei hadde al understondeOf thilke place what hem liste,Thei gon hem forth, that non it wiste,Beside thilke gate of bras,Collacea which cleped was,Wher Collatin hath his duellinge.Ther founden thei at hom sittingeLucrece his wif, al environedWith wommen, whiche are abandoned    4810To werche, and sche wroghte ek withal,And bad hem haste, and seith, “It schalBe for mi housebondes were,Which with his swerd and with his spereLith at the Siege in gret desese.And if it scholde him noght displese,Nou wolde god I hadde him hiere;For certes til that I mai hiereSom good tidinge of his astat,Min herte is evere upon debat.    4820For so as alle men witnesse,He is of such an hardiesse,That he can noght himselve spare,And that is al my moste care,Whan thei the walles schulle assaile.Bot if mi wisshes myhte availe,I wolde it were a groundles pet,Be so the Siege were unknet,And I myn housebonde sihe.”With that the water in hire yhe    4830Aros, that sche ne myhte it stoppe,And as men sen the dew bedroppeThe leves and the floures eke,Riht so upon hire whyte chekeThe wofull salte teres felle.Whan Collatin hath herd hire telleThe menynge of hire trewe herte,Anon with that to hire he sterte,And seide, “Lo, mi goode diere,Nou is he come to you hiere,    4840That ye most loven, as ye sein.”And sche with goodly chiere ayeinBeclipte him in hire armes smale,And the colour, which erst was pale,To Beaute thanne was restored,So that it myhte noght be mored.

The kinges Sone, which was nyh,And of this lady herde and syhThe thinges as thei ben befalle,The resoun of hise wittes alle    4850Hath lost; for love upon his partCam thanne, and of his fyri dartWith such a wounde him hath thurghsmite,That he mot nedes fiele and witeOf thilke blinde maladie,To which no cure of SurgerieCan helpe. Bot yit nathelesAt thilke time he hield his pes,That he no contienance made,Bot openly with wordes glade,    4860So as he couthe in his manere,He spak and made frendly chiere,Til it was time forto go.And Collatin with him alsoHis leve tok, so that be nyhteWith al the haste that thei myhteThei riden to the Siege ayein.Bot Arrons was so wo beseinWith thoghtes whiche upon him runne,That he al be the brode Sunne    4870To bedde goth, noght forto reste,Bot forto thenke upon the besteAnd the faireste forth withal,That evere he syh or evere schal,So as him thoghte in his corage,Where he pourtreieth hire ymage:Ferst the fetures of hir face,In which nature hadde alle graceOf wommanly beaute beset,So that it myhte noght be bet;    4880And hou hir yelwe her was trescedAnd hire atir so wel adresced,And hou sche spak, and hou sche wroghte,And hou sche wepte, al this he thoghte,That he foryeten hath no del,Bot al it liketh him so wel,That in the word nor in the dedeHire lacketh noght of wommanhiede.And thus this tirannysshe knyhtWas soupled, bot noght half ariht,    4890For he non other hiede tok,Bot that he myhte be som crok,Althogh it were ayein hire wille,The lustes of his fleissh fulfille;Which love was noght resonable,For where honour is remuable,It oghte wel to ben avised.Bot he, which hath his lust assisedWith melled love and tirannie,Hath founde upon his tricherie    4900A weie which he thenkth to holde,And seith, “Fortune unto the boldeIs favorable forto helpe.”And thus withinne himself to yelpe,As he which was a wylde man,Upon his treson he began:And up he sterte, and forth he wenteOn horsebak, bot his ententeTher knew no wiht, and thus he namThe nexte weie, til he cam    4910Unto Collacea the gateOf Rome, and it was somdiel late,Riht evene upon the Sonne set,As he which hadde schape his netHire innocence to betrappe.And as it scholde tho mishappe,Als priveliche as evere he myhteHe rod, and of his hors alyhteTofore Collatines In,And al frendliche he goth him in,    4920As he that was cousin of house.And sche, which is the goode spouse,Lucrece, whan that sche him sih,With goodli chiere drowh him nyh,As sche which al honour supposeth,And him, so as sche dar, opposethHou it stod of hire housebonde.And he tho dede hire understondeWith tales feigned in his wise,Riht as he wolde himself devise,    4930Wherof he myhte hire herte glade,That sche the betre chiere made,Whan sche the glade wordes herde,Hou that hire housebonde ferde.And thus the trouthe was deceivedWith slih tresoun, which was receivedTo hire which mente alle goode;For as the festes thanne stode,His Souper was ryht wel arraied.Bot yit he hath no word assaied    4940To speke of love in no degre;Bot with covert subtiliteHis frendly speches he affaiteth,And as the Tigre his time awaitethIn hope forto cacche his preie.Whan that the bordes were aweieAnd thei have souped in the halle,He seith that slep is on him falle,And preith he moste go to bedde;And sche with alle haste spedde,    4950So as hire thoghte it was to done,That every thing was redi sone.Sche broghte him to his chambre thoAnd tok hire leve, and forth is goInto hire oghne chambre by,As sche that wende certeinlyHave had a frend, and hadde a fo,Wherof fell after mochel wo.

This tirant, thogh he lyhe softe,Out of his bed aros fulofte,    4960And goth aboute, and leide his EreTo herkne, til that alle wereTo bedde gon and slepten faste.And thanne upon himself he casteA mantell, and his swerd al nakedHe tok in honde; and sche unwakedAbedde lay, but what sche mette,God wot; for he the Dore unschetteSo prively that non it herde,The softe pas and forth he ferde    4970Unto the bed wher that sche slepte,Al sodeinliche and in he crepte,And hire in bothe his Armes tok.With that this worthi wif awok,Which thurgh tendresce of wommanhiedeHire vois hath lost for pure drede,That o word speke sche ne dar:And ek he bad hir to be war,For if sche made noise or cry,He seide, his swerd lay faste by    4980To slen hire and hire folk aboute.And thus he broghte hire herte in doute,That lich a Lomb whanne it is sesedIn wolves mouth, so was desesedLucrece, which he naked fond:Wherof sche swounede in his hond,And, as who seith, lay ded oppressed.And he, which al him hadde adrescedTo lust, tok thanne what him liste,And goth his wey, that non it wiste,    4990Into his oghne chambre ayein,And clepede up his chamberlein,And made him redi forto ryde.And thus this lecherouse prideTo horse lepte and forth he rod;And sche, which in hire bed abod,Whan that sche wiste he was agon,Sche clepede after liht anonAnd up aros long er the day,And caste awey hire freissh aray,    5000As sche which hath the world forsake,And tok upon the clothes blake:And evere upon continuinge,Riht as men sen a welle springe,With yhen fulle of wofull teres,Hire her hangende aboute hire Eres,Sche wepte, and noman wiste why.Bot yit among full pitouslySche preide that thei nolden dreccheHire housebonde forto fecche    5010Forth with hire fader ek also.

Thus be thei comen bothe tuo,And Brutus cam with Collatin,Which to Lucrece was cousin,And in thei wenten alle threTo chambre, wher thei myhten seThe wofulleste upon this Molde,Which wepte as sche to water scholde.The chambre Dore anon was stoke,Er thei have oght unto hire spoke;    5020Thei sihe hire clothes al desguised,And hou sche hath hirself despised,Hire her hangende unkemd aboute,Bot natheles sche gan to louteAnd knele unto hire housebonde;And he, which fain wolde understondeThe cause why sche ferde so,With softe wordes axeth tho,“What mai you be, mi goode swete?”And sche, which thoghte hirself unmete    5030And the lest worth of wommen alle,Hire wofull chiere let doun falleFor schame and couthe unnethes loke.And thei therof good hiede toke,And preiden hire in alle weieThat sche ne spare forto seieUnto hir frendes what hire eileth,Why sche so sore hirself beweileth,And what the sothe wolde mene.And sche, which hath hire sorwes grene,    5040Hire wo to telle thanne assaieth,Bot tendre schame hire word delaieth,That sondri times as sche minteTo speke, upon the point sche stinte.And thei hire bidden evere in onTo telle forth, and therupon,Whan that sche sih sche moste nede,Hire tale betwen schame and dredeSche tolde, noght withoute peine.And he, which wolde hire wo restreigne,    5050Hire housebonde, a sory man,Conforteth hire al that he can,And swor, and ek hire fader bothe,That thei with hire be noght wrotheOf that is don ayein hire wille;And preiden hire to be stille,For thei to hire have al foryive.Bot sche, which thoghte noght to live,Of hem wol no foryivenesse,And seide, of thilke wickednesse    5060Which was unto hire bodi wroght,Al were it so sche myhte it noght,Nevere afterward the world ne schalReproeven hire; and forth withal,Er eny man therof be war,A naked swerd, the which sche barWithinne hire Mantel priveli,Betwen hire hondes sodeinlySche tok, and thurgh hire herte it throng,And fell to grounde, and evere among,    5070Whan that sche fell, so as sche myhte,Hire clothes with hire hand sche rihte,That noman dounward fro the kneScholde eny thing of hire se:Thus lay this wif honestely,Althogh sche deide wofully.

Tho was no sorwe forto seke:Hire housebonde, hire fader ekeAswoune upon the bodi felle;Ther mai no mannes tunge telle    5080In which anguisshe that thei were.Bot Brutus, which was with hem there,Toward himself his herte kepte,And to Lucrece anon he lepte,The blodi swerd and pulleth oute,And swor the goddes al abouteThat he therof schal do vengance.And sche tho made a contienance,Hire dedlich yhe and ate lasteIn thonkinge as it were up caste,    5090And so behield him in the wise,Whil sche to loke mai suffise.And Brutus with a manlich herteHire housebonde hath mad up sterteForth with hire fader ek alsoIn alle haste, and seide hem thoThat thei anon withoute letteA Beere for the body fette;Lucrece and therupon bledendeHe leide, and so forth out criende    5100He goth into the Market placeOf Rome: and in a litel spaceThurgh cry the cite was assembled,And every mannes herte is trembled,Whan thei the sothe herde of the cas.And therupon the conseil wasTake of the grete and of the smale,And Brutus tolde hem al the tale;And thus cam into remembranceOf Senne the continuance,    5110Which Arrons hadde do tofore,And ek, long time er he was bore,Of that his fadre hadde doThe wrong cam into place tho;So that the comun clamour toldeThe newe schame of Sennes olde.And al the toun began to crie,“Awey, awey the tirannieOf lecherie and covoitise!”And ate laste in such a wise    5120The fader in the same whileForth with his Sone thei exile,And taken betre governance.Bot yit an other remembranceThat rihtwisnesse and lecherieAcorden noght in compaignieWith him that hath the lawe on honde,That mai a man wel understonde,As be a tale thou shalt wite,Of olde ensample as it is write.    5130

At Rome whan that Apius,Whos other name is Claudius,Was governour of the cite,Ther fell a wonder thing to seTouchende a gentil Maide, as thus,Whom Livius VirginiusBegeten hadde upon his wif:Men seiden that so fair a lifAs sche was noght in al the toun.This fame, which goth up and doun,    5140To Claudius cam in his Ere,Wherof his thoght anon was there,Which al his herte hath set afyre,That he began the flour desireWhich longeth unto maydenhede,And sende, if that he myhte spedeThe blinde lustes of his wille.Bot that thing mai he noght fulfille,For sche stod upon Mariage;A worthi kniht of gret lignage,    5150Ilicius which thanne hihte,Acorded in hire fader sihteWas, that he scholde his douhter wedde.Bot er the cause fully spedde,Hire fader, which in RomanieThe ledinge of chivalerieIn governance hath undertake,Upon a werre which was takeGoth out with al the strengthe he haddeOf men of Armes whiche he ladde:    5160So was the mariage left,And stod upon acord til eft.

The king, which herde telle of this,Hou that this Maide ordeigned isTo Mariage, thoghte an other.And hadde thilke time a brother,Which Marchus Claudius was hote,And was a man of such rioteRiht as the king himselve was:Thei tuo togedre upon this cas    5170In conseil founden out this weie,That Marchus Claudius schal seieHou sche be weie of covenantTo his service appourtenantWas hol, and to non other man;And therupon he seith he canIn every point witnesse take,So that sche schal it noght forsake.Whan that thei hadden schape so,After the lawe which was tho,    5180Whil that hir fader was absent,Sche was somouned and assentTo come in presence of the kingAnd stonde in ansuere of this thing.Hire frendes wisten alle welThat it was falshed everydel,And comen to the king and seiden,Upon the comun lawe and preiden,So as this noble worthi knyhtHir fader for the comun riht    5190In thilke time, as was befalle,Lai for the profit of hem alleUpon the wylde feldes armed,That he ne scholde noght ben harmedNe schamed, whil that he were oute;And thus thei preiden al aboute.

For al the clamour that he herde,The king upon his lust ansuerde,And yaf hem only daies tuoOf respit; for he wende tho,    5200That in so schorte a time appiereHire fader mihte in no manere.Bot as therof he was deceived;For Livius hadde al conceivedThe pourpos of the king tofore,So that to Rome ayein therforeIn alle haste he cam ridende,And lefte upon the field liggendeHis host, til that he come ayein.And thus this worthi capitein    5210Appiereth redi at his day,Wher al that evere reson mayBe lawe in audience he doth,So that his dowhter upon sothOf that Marchus hire hadde accusedHe hath tofore the court excused.

The king, which sih his pourpos faile,And that no sleihte mihte availe,Encombred of his lustes blindeThe lawe torneth out of kinde,    5220And half in wraththe as thogh it were,In presence of hem alle thereDeceived of concupiscenceYaf for his brother the sentence,And bad him that he scholde seseThis Maide and make him wel at ese;Bot al withinne his oghne ententeHe wiste hou that the cause wente,Of that his brother hath the wyteHe was himselven forto wyte.    5230Bot thus this maiden hadde wrong,Which was upon the king along,Bot ayein him was non Appel,And that the fader wiste wel:Wherof upon the tirannie,That for the lust of LecherieHis douhter scholde be deceived,And that Ilicius was weyvedUntrewly fro the Mariage,Riht as a Leon in his rage,    5240Which of no drede set acompteAnd not what pite scholde amounte,A naked swerd he pulleth oute,The which amonges al the routeHe threste thurgh his dowhter side,And al alowd this word he cride:“Lo, take hire ther, thou wrongfull king,For me is levere upon this thingTo be the fader of a Maide,Thogh sche be ded, that if men saide    5250That in hir lif sche were schamedAnd I therof were evele named.”

Tho bad the king men scholde aresteHis bodi, bot of thilke heste,Lich to the chaced wylde bor,The houndes whan he fieleth sor,Tothroweth and goth forth his weie,In such a wise forto seieThis worthi kniht with swerd on hondeHis weie made, and thei him wonde,    5260That non of hem his strokes kepte;And thus upon his hors he lepte,And with his swerd droppende of blod,The which withinne his douhter stod,He cam ther as the pouer wasOf Rome, and tolde hem al the cas,And seide hem that thei myhten liereUpon the wrong of his matiere,That betre it were to redresceAt hom the grete unrihtwisnesse,    5270Than forto werre in strange placeAnd lese at hom here oghne grace.For thus stant every mannes lifIn jeupartie for his wifOr for his dowhter, if thei bePassende an other of beaute.

Of this merveile which thei siheSo apparant tofore here yhe,Of that the king him hath misbore,Here othes thei have alle swore    5280That thei wol stonde be the riht.And thus of on acord uprihtTo Rome at ones hom ayeinThei torne, and schortly forto sein,This tirannye cam to mouthe,And every man seith what he couthe,So that the prive tricherie,Which set was upon lecherie,Cam openly to mannes Ere;And that broghte in the comun feere,    5290That every man the peril draddeOf him that so hem overladde.Forthi, er that it worse falle,Thurgh comun conseil of hem alleThei have here wrongfull king deposed,And hem in whom it was supposedThe conseil stod of his ledingeBe lawe unto the dom thei bringe,Wher thei receiven the penanceThat longeth to such governance.    5300And thus thunchaste was chastised,Wherof thei myhte ben avisedThat scholden afterward governe,And be this evidence lerne,Hou it is good a king eschuieThe lust of vice and vertu suie.

To make an ende in this partie,Which toucheth to the PolicieOf Chastite in special,As for conclusion final    5310That every lust is to eschueBe gret ensample I mai argue:Hou in Rages a toun of MedeTher was a Mayde, and as I rede,Sarra sche hihte, and RaguelHir fader was; and so befell,Of bodi bothe and of visageWas non so fair of the lignage,To seche among hem alle, as sche;Wherof the riche of the cite,    5320Of lusti folk that couden love,Assoted were upon hire love,And asken hire forto wedde.On was which ate laste spedde,Bot that was more for likinge,To have his lust, than for weddinge,As he withinne his herte caste,Which him repenteth ate laste.For so it fell the ferste nyht,That whanne he was to bedde dyht,    5330As he which nothing god besechethBot al only hise lustes secheth,Abedde er he was fully warmAnd wolde have take hire in his Arm,Asmod, which was a fend of helle,And serveth, as the bokes telle,To tempte a man of such a wise,Was redy there, and thilke emprise,Which he hath set upon delit,He vengeth thanne in such a plit,    5340That he his necke hathe writhe atuo.This yonge wif was sory tho,Which wiste nothing what it mente;And natheles yit thus it wenteNoght only of this ferste man,Bot after, riht as he began,Sexe othre of hire housebondesAsmod hath take into hise bondes,So that thei alle abedde deiden,Whan thei her hand toward hir leiden,    5350Noght for the lawe of Mariage,Bot for that ilke fyri rageIn which that thei the lawe excede:For who that wolde taken hiedeWhat after fell in this matiere,Ther mihte he wel the sothe hiere.Whan sche was wedded to Thobie,And Raphael in compainieHath tawht him hou to ben honeste,Asmod wan noght at thilke feste,    5360And yit Thobie his wille hadde;For he his lust so goodly ladde,That bothe lawe and kinde is served,Wherof he hath himself preserved,That he fell noght in the sentence.O which an open evidenceOf this ensample a man mai se,That whan likinge in the degreOf Mariage mai forsueie,Wel oghte him thanne in other weie    5370Of lust to be the betre avised.For god the lawes hath assissedAls wel to reson as to kinde,Bot he the bestes wolde bindeOnly to lawes of nature,Bot to the mannes creatureGod yaf him reson forth withal,Wherof that he nature schalUpon the causes modefie,That he schal do no lecherie,    5380And yit he schal hise lustes have.So ben the lawes bothe saveAnd every thing put out of sclandre;As whilom to king AlisandreThe wise Philosophre tawhte,Whan he his ferste lore cawhte,Noght only upon chastete,Bot upon alle honestete;Wherof a king himself mai taste,Hou trewe, hou large, hou joust, hou chaste    5390Him oghte of reson forto be,Forth with the vertu of Pite,Thurgh which he mai gret thonk deserveToward his godd, that he preserveHim and his poeple in alle weltheOf pes, richesse, honour and heltheHier in this world and elles eke.

Mi Sone, as we tofore spiekeIn schrifte, so as thou me seidest,And for thin ese, as thou me preidest,    5400Thi love throghes forto lisse,That I thee wolde telle and wisseThe forme of Aristotles lore,I have it seid, and somdiel moreOf othre ensamples, to assaieIf I thi peines myhte allaieThurgh eny thing that I can seie.

Do wey, mi fader, I you preie:Of that ye have unto me toldI thonke you a thousendfold.    5410The tales sounen in myn Ere,Bot yit min herte is elleswhere,I mai miselve noght restreigne,That I nam evere in loves peine:Such lore couthe I nevere gete,Which myhte make me foryeteO point, bot if so were I slepte,That I my tydes ay ne kepteTo thenke of love and of his lawe;That herte can I noght withdrawe.    5420Forthi, my goode fader diere,Lef al and speke of my matiereTouchende of love, as we begonne:If that ther be oght overronneOr oght foryete or left behindeWhich falleth unto loves kinde,Wherof it nedeth to be schrive,Nou axeth, so that whil I liveI myhte amende that is mys.

Mi goode diere Sone, yis.    5430Thi schrifte forto make plein,Ther is yit more forto seinOf love which is unavised.Bot for thou schalt be wel avisedUnto thi schrifte as it belongeth,A point which upon love hongethAnd is the laste of alle tho,I wol thee telle, and thanne ho.

Explicit Liber Septimus.

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