The true portraiture of GEFFREY CHAUCEER the famous English poet as by THOMAS OCCLEUE is described who liued in his time and was his Scholar.
THE WORKS OF OUR Ancient, Learned, & Excellent ENGLISH POET, JEFFREY CHAUCER: As they have lately been Compar'd with the best Manuscripts; and several things added, never before in Print.
To which is adjoyn'd, The STORY of the SIEGE of THEBES, By John Lidgate, Monk of Bury.
TOGETHER WITH The Life of Chaucer, SHEWING His Countrey, Parentage, Education, Marriage, Children, Revenues, Service, Reward, Friends, Books, Death.
Also a TABLE, wherein the Old and Obscure Words in Chaucer are explained, and such Words (which are many) that either are, by Nature or Derivation, Arabick, Greek, Latine, Italian, French, Dutch, or Saxon, mark'd with particular Notes for the better understanding their Original.
LONDON, Printed in the Year, MDCLXXXVII.
TO THE Right Honourable Sir ROBERT CECIL, Knt. PRINCIPAL SECRETARY To the QUEEN's Most Excellent Majesty, Master of the Court of Wards and Liveries, one of her Highness's most Honourable Privy Council, and Right Worthy Chancellor of the Vniversity of CAMBRIDGE.
AT the last Impression of this Work, in way of humble Duty and Thankfulness, I presented to Your Honour certain Collections and Observations upon Chaucer; as namely, His Life, Picture, and Pedigree: the Arguments of every Book and Tale: the Explanation of old Words, with Declaration of Authors by him cited: and also two Treatises, the Death of Blanch, called his Dream: and the Flower and the Leaf, never before printed. But as these things then through want of time were not fully perfected, so were there some other things omitted, at the next Impression to be performed.
Now therefore, that both by old written Copies, and by Mr. William Thynn's praise-worthy Labours, I have reformed the whole Work, whereby Chaucer, for the most part, is restored to his own Antiquity; and noted withal most of his Sentences and Proverbs; having also, with some Additions, reduced into due place those former Notes and Collections; as likewise proved the Significations of most of the old and obscure Words, by the Tongues and Dialects from whence they are derived; translated also into English, all the Latin and [Page] French by him used; and lastly, added to his Works some Things of his own doing, as the Treatise of Jack Upland against Fryars, and his A. B. C. commonly called La Priere de nostre Dame: I am bold to present the whole to your Honourable Favour and Patronage, always mindful of my bounden Duty to Your Honour's House, which with hearty Prayer I commend to the Grace of the Almighty.
To the Readers.
AFter this Book was last Printed, I understood that Mr. Francis Thynn had a purpose, as indeed he hath when time shall serve, to set out Chaucer with a Comment in our Tongue, as the Italians have Petrark and others in their Language. Whereupon, I purposed not to meddle any farther in this Work, altho some promise made to the contrary, but to referr all to him; being a Gentleman for that purpose inferiour to none, both in regard of his own Skill, as also of those helps left to him by his Father. Yet notwithstanding, Chaucer now being Printed again, I was willing, not only to help some Imperfections, but also to add some things; whereunto he did not only persuade me, but most kindly lent me his Help and Direction. By this means most of his old Words are restored; Proverbs and Sentences marked; such Notes as were collected, drawn into better order; and the Text by old Copies corrected.
But of some things I must advertise the Readers; as first, that in Chaucer they shall find the Proper Names oftentimes much differing from the Latin and Greek, from whence they are drawn; which they must not condemn in him as a fault: for both he, and other Poets, in Translating such Words from one Language into another, do use, as the Latins and Greeks do, the sundry Species of Metaplasmus: as Campaneus for Capaneus; Atheon for Acteon; Adriane for Ariadne. Which Chaucer doth in other Words also; as gon for begon; leve for beleve; peraunter for peradventure; loveden for did love; woneden for did won, &c.
It is his manner likewise, imitating the Greeks, by two Negatives to cause a greater Negation; as, I ne said none ill.
Also many times to understand his Verb; as, I not what men him call, for I know not, &c.
And, for the Author, to name some part of his Work; as, Argonauticon for Apollonius Rhodius. And that sometime in the Genitive Case, a former Substantive being understood: as, read Aeneidos: Metamorphoseos: for the Authors of those Works.
[Page] And for his Verses, altho in divers places they may seem to us to stand of unequal Measures; yet a skilful Reader, that can scan them in their nature, shall find it otherwise. And if a Verse here and there fall out a Syllable shorter or longer than another, I rather aret it to the negligence and rape of Adam Scrivener, that I may speak as Chaucer doth, than to any unconning or over-sight in the Author: for how fearful he was to have his Works miswritten, or his Verse mismeasured, may appear in the End of his Fifth Book of Troylus and Creseide, where he writeth thus:
Moreover, whereas in the explanation of the old Words, sundry of their Significations by me given, may to some seem conjectural; yet such as understand the Dialects of our Tongue, especially in the North, and have knowledge in some other Languages, will judge otherwise: and for the satisfying of others, which want such skill, I have by these Characters a. g. l. i. f. d. b. notified to them from what Tongue or Dialect such Words are derived.
It were a Labour worth commendation, if some Scholar, that hath Skill and Leisure, would conferr Chaucer with those learned Authors, both in Greek and Latin, from whom he hath drawn many excellent things; and at large report such Histories, as in his Works are very frequent, and many of them hard to be found: which would so grace this Ancient Poet, that whereas divers have thought him unlearned, and his Writings mere Trifles, it should appear, That besides the knowledge of sundry Tongues, he was a Man of great Reading and deep Judgment. This course I began in the former Impression, but here of purpose have left it off; as also the Description of Persons and Places, except some few of more worthy note; as a labour rather for a Commentor, for that it concerneth Matter, than for him that intendeth only the explaining of Words. And thus to conclude, I commit to your wonted Favour, this our Poet, and what here is done for the Poet's sake.
TO HIS Very Loving and assured Good Friend, Mr. THOMAS SPEGHT.
I Am sorry, that neither the worthiness of Chaucer's own Praise, nor the importunate Prayers of divers your loving Friends, can yet move you to put into print those good Observations of him, and Collections that you have gathered. For, as for the Objections against him, that in our private Talk you are wont to say are commonly alledged, as first, That many of his Words are become (as it were) vinewed and hoary with over-long lying; and next, that some of his Speeches are somewhat too broad and plain; and that the Work therefore should be the less gracious: these are either no Causes, or no causes sufficient, to withold from Chaucer such desert of Glory as you may bestow upon him at your Pleasure.
It is well known to wise and learned Men, that all Languages be either such as are contained in Learning, or such as be used in daily practise: and for learned Tongues, they having Testamentario jure, their Legacies set down by them that be dead, Words must be retained and continued in them in such sort as they were left, without alteration of the Testators Wills in any thing, although in his choice it be that is to use them, when to use, or where to refuse them, at his own discretion. But in usual Languages of common Practise, which in choice of Words are, and ever will be subject unto change, never standing at one stay, but sometimes casting away old Words, sometimes renewing of them, and always framing of new, no man can so write, as that all his Words may remain currant many Years. Which thing, Horace, in his Book De arte Poetica, precisely noteth in these Verses:
Whereby he declareth, that Words in common Tongues, like unto Leaves, must of necessity have their Buddings, their Blossomings, their Ripenings, and their Fallings: and Chaucer most excellently also himself in true foresight hereof in these Verses of his:
And therefore impossible it was, that either Chaucer could, or any man living can, keep Words of unlearned Tongues from falling after so long a time. And this hath happened amongst the Latin Writers themselves, when theirs was a spoken Tongue, as ours now is, who, though they first made their own Words, and gave [Page] them their Allowance, yet divers of Cecilius, Statius, Ennius and Plautus, were by latter Latinists rejected; and now again many of them, by the last Writers of all (though before, as it were by Proclamation, put down for baseness) are upon a new touch warranted for good, and pass abroad as Sterling. But so pure were Chaucer's Words in his days, as Lidgate, that learned Man, calleth him, The Loadstar of the English Language; and so good they are in our days, as Mr. Spencer (following the Counsel of Tully in his Third Book De Oratore, for reviving of ancient Words) hath adorned his Stile with that Beauty and Gravity, that Tully there speaks of: and his much frequenting of Chaucer's ancient Words, with his excellent imitation of divers Places in him, is not the least help that hath made him reach so high, as many learned men do think, that no Poet, either French or Italian, deserves a second place under him. And furthermore, by your Interpretation of the unusual Words, that ancient Hardness and Difficulty is made most clear and easie: and in the Pains and Diligence you have used in collecting his Life, methinks you have bestowed upon him as favourable Graces as Medea did upon Aeson; for you have restored us Chaucer, both alive again, and young again; and delivered many from the erroneous Conjectures they conceived of him. And therefore, though every thing be not perfect to your own mind, (for Desires be endless; and nothing can be at one time both begun and perfected) yet since you have opened the way to others, and attempted that which was unattempted before you, your Endeavours herein cannot but be well accepted, unless of such as have better Will, without just cause, to reprove others, than either Wit or Skill to do well themselves.
Touching the Incivility Chaucer is charged withal; what Roman Poet hath less offended this way than he? Virgil in his Priapus is worse by a thousand Degrees, and Ovid in his Book De Arte Amandi, and Horace in many Places as deep as the rest; but Catullus and Tibullus, in unclean Wantonness, beyond measure pass them all. Neither is Plautus nor Terence free in this behalf: But these two last are excused above the rest, for their due Observation of Decorum, in giving to their Comical Persons such manner of Speeches as did best fit their Dispositions. And may not the same be said for Chaucer? How much had he swarved from Decorum, if he had made his Merchant, his Miller, his Cook, his Carpenter, tell such honest and civil Tales, as were told of his Knight, his Squire, his Lawyer and his Scholar? But shewing the disposition of the baser sort of People, he declareth in their Prologues and Tales, That their chief Delight was in undecent Speeches of their own, and in their false Defamations of others, as in these Verses appeareth:
And in excuse of himself for uttering those broad Speeches of theirs, he useth these Words:
[Page] And in another place:
For no man can imagine in his so large compass, purposing to describe all English-mens Humours living in those days, how it had been possible for him to have left untouch'd their filthy Delights; or in discovering their desires, how to have express'd them without some of their Words.
And now to compare him with other Poets: His Canterbury Tales contain in them almost the same Argument that is handled in Comedies: His Stile therein for the most part is low and open, and like unto theirs: but herein they differ; The Comedy-Writers do all follow and borrow one from another, as Terence from Plautus and Menander: Plautus from Menander and Demophilus: Statius and Caecilius from Diphilus, Apollodorus, and Philemon; and almost all the last Comedians from that, which was called Antiqua Comaedia. The Ring they beat is this, and out of the same Track they go not; To shew the Looseness of many Young-men; the Lewdness of some Young-women; the crafty School Points of old Bawds; the little regard of honest disposed Serving-men; the miserable Wretchedness of divers old Fathers, and their Folly in countenancing and committing their Sons to the Charge and Government of most impudent and flattering Parasites; such as in Terence is prating Davus and Geta, and bold bawdy Phormio. Chaucer's Device of his Canterbury Pilgrimage is merely his own: His Drift is to touch all sorts of men, and to discover all Vices of that Age; which he doth so feelingly, and with so true an Aim, as he never fails to hit whatsoever mark he levels at.
In his five Books of Troylus and Creseid, in the Romaunt of the Rose, in his Black Knight, in the Merciless Lady, in some few also of his Tales, in his Dream, and in that of Blanch, (which is in your hands, and was never yet imprinted) and in other his Discourses he soareth much higher; and is in his Troilus so sententious, as there be few Staves in those Books which include not some principal Sentence; most excellently imitating Homer and Virgil, and borrowing often of them, and of Horace also, and other the rarest both Orators and Poets that have written. Of whom, for the sweetness of his Poetry, may be said, that which is reported of Stesichorus: and as Marcus Cethegus was termed by Ennius, Suadae medulla; so may Chaucer rightly be called, The Pith and Sinews of Eloquence, and very Life it self of all Mirth and pleasant Writing: besides, one Gift he hath above other Authors, and that is, By excellency of his Descriptions, to possess his Readers with a more forcible Imagination of seeing that (as it were) done before their Eyes, which they read, than any other that ever hath written in any Tongue. And here I cannot forget to remember unto you, those ancient learned Men of our time in Cambridge, whose diligence, in reading of his Works themselves, and commending them to others of the younger sort, did first bring you and me in love with him: and one of them at that time, and all his Life after, was (as you know) one of the rarest men for Learning in the whole World. The same may be said of that worthy learned Man your good Friend in Oxford, who with many other of like excellent Judgment have ever had Chaucer in most high Reputation.
And now, (Mr. Speght) seeing not only all Greek and Latin Poets have had their Interpreters, and the most of them translated into our Tongue, but the French also and Italian, as Guillaume de Salust, that most divine French Poet; Petrark and Ariosto, those two excellent Italians, (whereof the last, instructed by Mr. Iohn [Page] Harington doth now speak as good English as he did Italian before,) shall only Chaucer, our Ancient Poet, nothing inferiour to the best, amongst all the Poets of the World, remain always neglected, and never be so well understood of his own Country-men as Strangers are? Well, content your self, and set your heart at rest; for, seeing I was one of them which first procured you to take in hand this Work, and since you have given me of your Copies to use privately for mine own Pleasure; if you will not put them abroad your self, they shall abroad 'ere long, and look into the World without your consent. Yet, lest many Inconveniences might happen by this Attempt of mine, and divers things be set forth contrary unto your own liking, let me once again intreat you (as I have done often heretofore) to yield to my just and reasonable suit: wherein you shall not only satisfie that Conceit which I have many Years carried of your unfeigned Love towards me; but pleasure many who daily expect your Pains herein; and perform also unto Chaucer great part of that Honour that he most worthily deserveth. So with my thrice hearty Commendations I bid you farewel.
THE READER TO Geffrey Chaucer.
Vpon the Picture of Chaucer.
Of the Animadversions upon Chaucer.
THE LIFE Of Our Learned English Poet, Geffrey Chaucer.
So much as we can find by Heralds, Chronicles, and Records, of his • Country. , • Parentage. , • Education. , • Marriage. , • Children, With their • Marriage. , • Lands. , • Service. , • Reward. , • Issue. ,
and • Death. , • Revenues. , • Service. , • Reward. , • Friends. , • Books. ,
and • Death.
Gaufredus Chaucer sui saeculi ornamentum extra omnem ingenii aleam positus, & Poetastras nostros longo post se intervallo relinquens.
His Country.
THis famous and learned Poet, Geffrey Chaucer, Esq was supposed byThis Leland had Commission from King Hen. Eighth to search all Libraries in England for matters of Antiquity. He died in the days of Edw. Sixth. Leland to have been an Oxfordshire or Barkshire Man born: for so reporteth John Bale in his Catalogue of English Writers; Quibusdam argumentis adducebatur Lelandus, ut crederet, &c. Some Reasons did move Leland to think, That Oxfordshire or Barkshire was his Native Country.
But as it is evident by his own Words in the Testament of Love In the 1. Book and 5th Sect., he was born About the 2d or 3d Year of Edw. Third. in the City of London: for thus he writeth there; Also in the City of London that is to me so dear and sweet, in which I was foorth growen, and more kindly Love have I to that Place than to any other in yerth (as every kindly Creature hath full Appetite to that Place of his kindly Engendure, and to wilne Rest and Peace in that stede to abide) thilke Peace should thus there have been broken, which of all wise Men is commended and desired.
[Page] In the Records of the Guild-Hall in London we find, that there was one Richard Chaucer Vintner, quasi Wineturner, that is, a Merchant of the Vi [...]ry, which sold by whole sale. Vintner of London in the twenty third Year of Edward 3d. who might well be Geffrey Chaucer's Father.
Also there was a Nun of St. Hellens in London named Elizabeth Chaucer, in the first Year of Rich. 2d. as it is in Record, which seemeth either to have been his Sister, or of his Kindred, and by likelihood a Londoner born.
Moreover, in the eighth year of the same King, Geffrey Chaucer was Controller of the Custom-House in London, as after out of the Records shall appear.
Other Dealings he had in the City, as we may plainly see in the Testament of Love; all which may move us to think, That he was born in London.
His Parentage.
FOR his Parentage and Place of Birth, although Bale termeth him, Galfridus Chaucer nobili loco natus, & summae spei juvenis, yet in the Opinion of some Heralds, (otherwise than his Vertues and Learning commended him) he descended not of any great House; which they gather by his Arms, De argento & rubeo colore partita per longitudiuem scuti cum benda ex transverso, eisdem coloribus sed transmutatis depicta sub hac forma.
But this is but a simple Conjecture: for, honourable Houses, and of great Antiquity, have borne as mean Arms as Chaucer; and yet his Arms are not so mean, either for Colour, Charge, or Particion, as some would make them.
And indeed both in respect of the Name, which is French, as also by other Conjectures, it may be gathered, That his Progenitors were Strangers.
But wheras some are of Opinion, that the first coming of the Chaucers into England was when Qu. Isabel, This Q. Isabel being sent into France with her young Son Edw. by the K. of England her Husband, to conferr about matters with her Brother the French King, would by no means return, having conceived a great Hatred against the Spensers, and also against the King, for suffering himself to be misled by their naughty Counsel; but by all means stirred the People to Rebellion, and in the end came over her self with almost three thousand Strangers besides Englishmen. Wife to Edw. 2. and her Son Prince Edw. returned out ofHenault, a Province lying between France and Flanders. Henault into England, at which time also almost 3000 Strangers came over with them, as by Chronicles appeareth; or some two Years after, when Philip, Daughter to the Earl of Henault, came over to be married to Prince Edward: I can by no means consent with them, but rather must think, That their Name and Family was of far more ancient Antiquity, although by time decayed, as many more had been of much greater Estate. For in the days of Edw. 1. there was one John Chaucer, as appeared by the Records of the Tower; where it is said, That the King did hear the Complaint of John Chaucer in the damage of 1000 l. There was also in the time of Hen. 3. and Edw. 1. Elias Chaucesir; of whom the Records in the Exchequer have thus; Edwardus Dei Gratia, &c. liberate de Thesauro nostro Elias Chaucesir decem solid. &c. with which Characters Geffrey Chaucer is written in the Records of Edw. 3. and Rich. 2. This Name was at the first a Name of Office or Occupation, which afterward came to be the Name of a Family, as Smith, Baker, Skinner, and others have done. In the time of King John likewise, there was one named le Chaucer, as appeareth by the Records of the Tower. But what need I to stand upon the Antiquity or Gentry of Chaucer, when the Roll of Battle Abbey affirmeth Chaucer to have come in with the Conquerour. Moreover, it is more likely that the Parents of Geffrey Chaucer were mere English, and himself an English-man born; for else how could he have come to that Perfection in our Language, as to be called, The first Illuminer of the English Tongue, had not both he, and his Parents before him, been born and bred among us? But what their Names were, or what Issue they had, otherwise than by Conjecture before given, we cannot declare.
[Page] Now whether they were Merchants, as some will have it, (for that in Places where they have dwelled, theThis Coniecture is of small force: for the Merchants of the Staple had not any Arms granted to them, as I have been informed, before the time of Henry the Sixth, or much thereabout. Arms of the Merchants of the Staple have been seen in the glass Windows) or whether they were of other Calling, it is not much necessary to search; but wealthy no doubt they were, and of good account in the Commonwealth, who brought up their Son in such sort, that both he was thought fit for the Court at home, and to be employed for matters of State in foreign Countries.
His Education.
HIS bringing up, as Leland saith, was in the University of Oxford, as also in Cambridge, as appeareth by his own Words, in his Book entituled, The Court of Love; and in Oxford (by all likelihood) in Canterbury or in Merton Colledge,Canterbury Colledge in Oxford, founded by Simon Islip Archbishop of Canterbury, was suppressed in the Reign of K. Hen. 8. and joyned unto Christs-Church. with John Wickliffe, whose Opinions in Religion he much affected; where, besides his private Study, he did with great diligence frequent the publick Schools and Disputations; Hinc acutus Dialecticus, hinc dulcis Rhetor, hinc lepidus Poeta, hinc gravis Philosophus, ac sanctus Theologus evasit. Mathematicus insuper ingeniosus erat à Johanne Sombo, &c. Hereupon saith Leland, he became a witty Logician, a sweet Rhetorician, a pleasant Poet, a grave Philosopher, and a holy Divine. Moreover, he was a very skilful Mathematician, instructed therein by John Some and Nicholas Nicholas de Lynna studiorum praecipuas partes in Mathesi collocavit, quae quatuor disciplinarum orbem complectitur: videlicet, Arithmeticam, Geometriam, Musicam, & Astrologiam. Bale. Lynne, Friars Carmelites of Lynne, and men very skilful in the Mathematicks, whom he, in his Book called The Astrolaby, doth greatly commend, and calleth them, Reverend Clerks.
By his Travel also in France and Flanders, where he spent much time in his young Years, but more in the latter end of the Reign of King Rich. 2. he attained to great Perfection in all kind of Learning: for so do Bale and Leland also report. Circa postremos Richardi secundi annos in Galliis floruit, magnamque illic ex assidua in literis exercitatione gloriam sibi comparavit. Domum reversus forum Londinense, & Collegia Leguleiorum, qui ibidem patria jura interpretantur, frequentavit, &c. About the latter end of King Richard the Second's Days he flourished in France, and got himself great Commendation there by his diligent Exercise in Learning. After his Return home, he frequented the Court at London, and the Colledges of the Lawyers, which there interpret the Laws of the Land, and among them he had a familiar Friend calledJohn Gower, a Knight, as Bale writeth, studied not only the common Laws of the Land, but all other kind of good Literature. He lieth buried in St. Mary Overies in Southwark, in a stately Tomb erected in the Wall, with his Image lying over him, in a Habit of greenish Damask down to his Feet, a Collar of Esses Gold about his Neck, and on his Head a Chaplet of Roses, the Ornaments of Knighthood. Under his Head he hath the likeness of three Books, which he compiled: the first, Speculum Meditantis in French; the second, Vox Clamantis in Latin; the third, Confessio Amantis in English. John Gower.
It seemeth that Chaucer was of the Inner Temple; for not many Years since, Master Buckley did see a Record in the same House, where Geffrey Chaucer was fined two Shillings for beating a Franciscan Friar in Fleet-street.
Thus spending much time in the Universities, France, Flanders, and Inns of Court, he proved a singular man in all kind of Knowledge.
His Marriage.
HE matched in Marriage with a Knights Daughter of Henault, called Paon de Ruet, King of Arms, as by this Draught appeareth, taken out of the Office of the Heralds. This Gentlewoman whom he married (whose Name we cannot find) as it may be gathered by Chaucer's own Words in his Dream, was Attendant on Blanch the Dutchess, in the Duke of Lancaster's House, as also her Sister Katharine was; or else waited on the Dutchess Maud, Sister of Blanch, who was married to William Duke of Bavare, Earl of Henault, Zeland, and Holland. But howsoever it was, by this Marriage he became Brother-in-Law toJohn Plantagenet, sirnamed Gaunt, of Gaunt in Flanders, where he was born, was the fourth Son of King Edward the Third. He was Duke of Lancaster, Earl of Lincoln, Darby, and Leicester, King of Castile and Lyons, and Steward of England. He was also Earl of Richmond, and Duke of Aquitain. He had three Wives, Blanch, Constance, and Katharine. He lieth buried in the Quire of Pauls. John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, as hereafter appeareth.
Stemma peculiare Gaufredi Chauceri Poetae celeberrimi.
- Paganus de Rouet Hannoniensis, aliter dictus Guien Rex Armorum.
- Catherina de Rouet à priore marito Hugone Swinford Equite cognominata Swinford: Quae postea renupta Johanni Gandavensi tertii Edovardi Regis filio Lancastriae Duci, illi procreavit filios tres & unicam filiam.
- Gaufredus Chaucer Poeta celeber. sui saeculi ornamentum ac decus ingens.
- Altera filiarum & cohaeredum Guienni Armorum Regis, cujus Nomen non editur.
- Thomas Chaucer Armiger dominus Manerii de Ewhelm in Oxoniensi Comit.
- William de la Pole Comes Marchio, & postea Dux Suffolciae.
- Alicia unica filia, & haeres Thomae Chaucer ter nupta Johanni Philip. equiti, deinde comiti Sarum, & postea Will. Com. Suff.
- Johannes de la Pole Dux Suffolciae.
- Edmundus de la Pole Comes Suffolciae, ultimus ex hac stirpe attinctus tempore Regis Hen. 7.
- Johannes Burg hershe, Miles.
- Matildis filia William Kerdeston Militis.
- Johannes Burghershe Miles.
- Imania filia natu maxima, & una haeredum Simonis Hannap vel Hanning de Comit. Glouc.
- Matildis filia & cohaeres Johannis Burghershe Militis.
- Margareta altera filiarum & haeredum Johannis Burghershe nupta Johanni Arundel de Com. Cornubiae.
- Johannes Arundell.
- Hinc descendit hodiernus Johannes Arundel.
His Children, with their Advancement.
IT should seem, that Geffrey Chaucer had another Son besidesThomas Chaucer was born about the 38 or 39th Year of Edw. 3. Thomas; for in the Preface to theWritten Ann. Domini 1391. Rich. secund. 14. Astrolabe writeth to one, whom he calleth his little Son Lewis: yet some hold opinion, (but I know not upon what Grounds) that Thomas Chaucer was not the Son of Geffrey Chaucer, but rather some Kinsman of his, whom he brought up. But this Pedigree by the hands of Master Glover alias Somerset, that learned Antiquary, as also the Report of Chronicles, shew it to be otherwise.
[Page] Some say that in recompence of Geffrey Chaucer's Service in France, being sent thither Ambassador, Edward the Third gave him this Maud, Daughter and Heir of Sir This John Burghershe was of the same Line of Barrholomew Burghershe, one of the first Knights of the Garter at the Institution thereof by Edward 3. and of Henry Burghershe Bishop of Lincoln, and Chancellor and Treasurer of England. John Burghershe, Knight, whom he married to Thomas Chaucer his Son, to the great increase of his Living, and amendment in Blood.
This Thomas Chaucer, besides his own Inheritance ofEwelme olim Chauceri & Delapolorum, nunc Regiae aedes. Dum enim Johannes Lincolniae Comes Gulielmo Delapolo è filio Johanne nepos res novas contra Henricum septimum moliretur proscriptus omnibus honoribus, & his possessionibus excidit: quae in patrimonium Regium transcriptae fuerunt. G. C. Ewelm andDunnington Castle standeth in a Park in Barkshire not far from Newberry, where to this day standeth an old Oak called Chaucer's Oak. Dunnington Castle, (which M. Camben, England's most excellent Antiquiographer termeth, Quondam Chauceri, & postea Delapolorum Castellum exiguum) was divers ways preferred, as out of Records in the Tower of London here we may partly see.
Vicesimo secundo Rich. secundi viginti Marcae datae Thomae Chaucer per ann. durante vita.
Anno primo Henrici quarti idem donum viginti Marcarum confirmatum.
Thomas Chaucer primo anno Henrici sexti capitalis Pincerna Regis Angliae.
Thomas Chaucer, Sheriff of Oxfordshire and Barkshire, and Constable ofWallingford in Barkshire: Castrum admirandae amplitudinis & magnificentiae duplici murorum ambitu, duplici item vallo circundatum, in medio, moli in magnam altitudinem aeditae arx imponitur, in cujus acclivi per gradus ascensu fons est immensae profunditatis. Incolae constructum à Danis credunt, alii à Romanis. G. Camben. Wallingford-Castle andKnaresborow in Yorkshire. Castrum rupi asperrimae impositum, quod Serlonem de Burgo patruum Eustacii Vescii condidisse ferunt: nunc patrimonii Lancastrensis censetur. G. Camden. Knaresborow Castle, and the Forest of Knaresborow, during Life.
Queen This Jane of Navarr, Widow to John of Mounford, Duke of Britain, was married to Henry the Fourth, about the fourth Year of his Reign. Jane, Wife to Henry the Fourth, the twelfth year of his Reign, gave to Thomas Chaucer, for his good Service, Manerium de Woodstock, Hannebrough, Wotton, & Stuntesfield, cum omnibus membris & Hamlet. suis durante vita.
Thomas Chaucer, the last Heir male of the Chaucers, and Owner of Ewelm and Dunnington Castle, the Inheritance of the Chaucers, lieth buried in a black Marble Tomb, in a fair Chappel, in the Parish-Church of Ewelm, in the south side of the Quire, with this Epitaph, Hic jacet Thomas Chaucer, Armiger, quondam dominus istius villae, & patronus istius Ecclesiae, qui obiit 18 die Mensis Novemb. Anno Dom. 1434. & Matildis uxor ejus, quae obiit 28 die Mensis Aprilis, Anno Dom. 1436.
Thomas Chaucer had one only Daughter, named Alice, married thrice; first to Sir John Phillip, Knight; then to Thomas Mountacute, Earl of Salisbury; and the third time toThe Pooles Advancement grew first by Merchandise: and Sir Richard Poole, Kt. was Father to William de la Pool, Merchant of Hull, who, for that he frankly and freely did lend to King Ed. 3. a great Sum of Mony (at Mortaign in France, when he was greatly distressed) was honoured with the Girdle Military, made Banneret, and endued with 1000 Marks by the Year; and his Successors after were advanced to be Dukes of Suffolk, as in Master Stow's Annals appeareth. William de la Pole, Earl, and after Duke of Suffolk; who, for love of his Wife, and commodity of her Lands, fell much to dwell in Oxfordshire and Barkshire, where his Wives Lands lay. Between them they had a Son called John, as appeareth in the Book of the Foundation of the Hospital of Ewelm, (which is to be seen in Mr. Stow's Library) where the Master, Minister, and the poor Men, are enjoyned to gather themselves at appointed times about the Tomb of Thomas Chaucer and Maud his Wife, Father and Mother of the Dutchess, and there to say certain Prayers appointed; which being ended, one of them is to say openly in the English Tongue, God save in Body and Soul our sovereign Lord the King; my Lord William Duke of Suffolk; my Lady Alice, Dutchess of Suffolk his Wife, our Foundress; my Lord John their Son, and all Christian People; the Brethren answering, Amen. This is added, because some have held, that she never had Child, but that the Duke had this Son by another Wife: although indeed the descending of the Chaucers Lands to the Poles, and after to the King, might sufficiently confute them. But what is it wherein some will not cavil?
This William and his Wife increased the Manor Place of Ewelm, William de la Pole was first secretly married to the Countess of Henault, by whom he had a Daughter: and after being divorced from her, was publickly married to T. Chaucer's Daughter, Countess of Salisbury, who proved this Daughter, being married to one Barentine, a Bastard. The which Barentine afterward, for a Rior made against the Countess, was condemned, and lost an hundred Pounds by the Year. J. Stow. and builded there a Parish-Church, and an Hospital called Gods-house, for two Priests and thirteen poor men, to be sustained for ever. One of the Priests to be Master of the Alms-house and Alms people, them to instruct; the other Priest, a School-master, freely to teach the Children of the Tenants of the said Lordship their Grammar; and either of them to have ten Pounds by the Year. Also one of the poor men to be called Minister, to present the Faults of the other to the Master, and to ring their common Bell to Service, [Page] and to have sixteen Pence the Week, and the rest fourteen Pence. To the which House they gave the Manors of Ramridge in Hampshire, Conock in Wiltshire, and Mersh in Buckinghamshire. They also founded an Hospital at Donnington Castle J. St.
This Alice, In the 28. of K. Hen. 6. 1450. this William de la Pole was banished the Realm for five Years, to pacifie the hard opinion which the Commons had conceived against him. In his Journey to his Banishment he was taken and beheaded, and his Body cast up at Dover Sands, and buried in the Charter-house at Hull. J. St. Wife of Duke William, surviving her Husband, was after buried in the Parish Church of Ewelm, on the South-side of the high Altar, in a rich Tomb of Alabaster, with an Image in the Habit of a Vowess, and Dutchess crowned, lying on the same Tomb: and another Image under the Tomb, so near as may be, like unto her at the time of her Death, with this Epitaph, Orate pro anima serenissimae principissae Aliciae Suffolchiae, hujus Ecclesiae Patronae, & primae fundatricis hujus Eleemosinariae, quae obiit 20 die mensis Maii, Anno Dom. 1475. Litera Dominicali, A.
Among many things that greatly renowned Geffrey Chaucer, this was one saith Bale, That he had a Kinswoman, Quae Gulielmo Sudovolgiorum Duci nupsit, ac magno in splendore Aquelmi vitam egit: that is, which being married to William Duke of Suffolk, lived in great Honour at Ewelm.
His Revenues.
BUT now to return to Geffrey Chaucer: although he had Lands and Revenues in divers Places, and that to the yearly value, as some say, almost of a thousand Pounds, yet the Place of his most Abode was at Woodstock, in a fair House of Stone next to the King's Place, called to this day Chaucer's House, and by that Name passed by the Queen to the Tenant which there now dwelleth. Chaucer took great Pleasure to lye there, in regard of the Park, in sundry of his Writings much by him commended; as also to be near the Court, where his best Friends were, and they who were able to do him most Pleasure: by whose means he had sundry Rewards bestowed upon him, and that worthily, for his good Service, which often he performed, and whereof in Chronicles and Records we may read.
His Service.
IN the last Year of King Edward the Third,This Sir Rich. Dangle, a Knt. of Poictu, came over with the Duke of Lancaster, who, for his Valiancy and tryed Truth to the King of England, was made Knight of the Garter. he with Sir Richard Dangle, and Sir Richard Stan, was sent to Montrevil to move a Marriage to be had between Richard Prince of Wales, and the Lady Mary, Daughter to the French King. Some write, that he, with Petrark, was present at the Marriage of Lionel Duke of Clarence with Violant Daughter of Galeasius Duke of Millain; yet Paulus Jovius nameth not Chaucer, but Petrark, he saith, was there. And yet it may well be; for it is in Record, that twice or thrice he was employed in foreign Countries: which if it be true, well might the man be at such Charges and Expences as he might stand in need of King Richard the Second's Protection (as after shall appear) till he had better recovered himself. But for his Service he was not unrewarded.
His Rewards.
CHaucer is called Armiger Regis: for in the Patent Rolls of Part 1. of 50 Ed. 3. M. 5. the King maketh a Grant, Armigero nostro Galfrido Chaucer. This Armiger Regis was of good Worship and Reputation about the Prince, being also the same that Scutifer Regis was, to bear the King's Shield and other Armour of his, both out and in the Wars. By which Name of Scutifer Regis, the King granted to him the Lands and Body of Sir Edmund Staplegat, for the Manor of Bilsington in Kent, to whom he paid 104 Pounds for the same; as appeareth in Patent Part 2. de anno 49 Edw. 3. Again, the King before that, in 45 Edw. 3: as appeareth in pellis Exitus of the Exchequer, had granted unto him twenty Marks by Year, by the Name of Galfride Chaucer Valectus Hospitii; which is, Groom of the Palace, a place of good Worship. By which Name of Valectus▪ also King Edw. 3. long before did entite Laurence Hastings, Lord of Aburganey, calling him Valectum nostrum, being the King's Groom, Page, or Servant. For unto this day, certain Servitors of the Queens are called Pages and Grooms, being of Worship and Reputation, as are the Grooms of the Privy Chamber. By which may be gathered in what Credit G. Chaucer was with King Edw. 3.
[Page] Anno 8 Richardi 2. Galfridus Chaucer Contrarotulator Customarïorum & Subsidiorum in portu Civitatis nostrae London.
Anno 17 Richardi 2. Viginti librae datae Galfrido Chaucero per annum durante vita:
Vigessimo secundo anno Richardi secundi concessum Galfrido Chaucer unum dolium vini per annum durante vita, in portu civitatis London. per manus capitalis Pincernae nostri.
Anno primo Henrici quarti Galfrido Chaucero Armigero literae patentes confirmatae pro viginti libris nummorum per annum durante vita & uno dolio vini.
Eodem etiam anno concessae adhuc & datae eidem Galfrido Chaucero Quadraginta marcae per annum durante vita.
His Friends.
FRiends he had in the Court, of the best sort: for besides that he always held in with the Princes, in whose days he lived, he had of the best of the Nobility, both Lords and Ladies, which favoured him greatly. But chiefly John of Gaunt Duke of Lancaster, at whose commandment he made the TreatiseSome say he did but translate it; and that it was made by Sir Otes de Grantsome, Knight, in French: of my Lady of York, Daughter to the King of Spain, representing Venus; and my Lord of Huntingdon, sometime Duke of Excester. This Lady was younger Sister to Constance, John of Gaunt's second Wife. This Lord of Huntingdon was called John Holland, half Brother to Richard the Second: He married Elizabeth the Daughter of John of Gaunt Duke of Lancaster. Of the Alliance betwixt Mars and Venus: and also the Book of the Dutchess. Likewise the Lady Isabel, Daughter to King Edward the Third, and Wife to Ingeram de Guynes, Lord De Coucy: also the Lady Margaret, Daughter to the same King, married to John Hastings Earl of Penbrook, did greatly love and favour Geffrey Chaucer; and he again did as much honour them, but especially the Lady Margaret, as it may appear in divers Treatises by him written: as in the Prologue of the Legend of good Women under the Name of the Daisy; and likewise in a Ballad, beginning, In the season of Feuerier. Others there were of great account, whereof some, for some causes, took liking of him, and other for his rare Gifts and Learning did admire him. And thus he lived in honour many Years both at home and abroad.
Yet it seemeth that he was in some trouble in the days of King Richard the Second, as it may appear in the Testament of Love; where he doth greatly complain of his own rashness in following the multitude, and of their hatred against him for bewraying their purpose. And in that complaint which he maketh to his empty Purse, I do find a written Copy, which I had of Mr. Stow (whose Library helped me in many things) wherein ten times more is adjoyned than is in Print. Where he maketh great Lamentation for his wrongful Imprisonment, wishing death to end his days: which in my Judgment doth greatly accord with that in the Testament of Love. Moreover, we find it thus in Record:
In the second Year of Richard the Second,Out of the Records in the Tower. The King took Geffrey Chaucer and his Lands into his Protection: the occasion whereof, no doubt, was some danger and trouble wherein he was fallen by favouring some rash attempt of the common People. For living in such troublesome times, wherein few knew what part to take, no marvel if he came into some danger, nay great marvel that he fell not into greater danger. But as he was learned, so was he wise, and kept himself much out of the way in Holland, Zeland, and France, where he wrote most of his Books.
His Books.
CHaucer had always an earnest desire to enrich and beautifie our English Tongue, which in those days was very rude and barren; and this he did, following the Example of Dantes and Petrarch, who had done the same for the Italian Tongue, Alanus for the French, and Johannes Mena for the Spanish; neither was Chaucer inferiour to any of them in the performance hereof: and England in this respect is much beholden to him, as Leland well noteth;
[Page] Besides those Books of his which we have in print, he wrote divers others; as,
- De Vulcani veru.
- De Leone & eius dignitate.
- Comoedias & Tragoedias.
- Facetias & Jocos.
- Jack Vpland against Friars. Now Printed.
- And His A. B. C. Now Printed.
Others I have seen without any Authors Name, in the hands of Mr. Stow, that painful Antiquary; which for the Invention I would verily judge to be Chaucer's, were it not that Words and Phrases carry not every where Chaucer's Antiquity. Mr. William Thynn, in his first printed Book of Chaucer's Works, with one Column on a side, had a Tale called the Pilgrims Tale, which was more odious to the Clergy than the Speech of the Plowman. The Tale began thus; In Lincolneshire fast by a fenne, Standeth a religious house who doth it kenne. The Argument of which Tale, as also the occasion thereof, and the cause why it was left out of Chaucer's Works, shall hereafter be shewed, if God permit, in Mr. Francis Thynn's Comment upon Chaucer; and the Tale it self published if possibly it can be found.
Now, concerning those Books which we have in print; The Canterbury Tales for the most part were of his own Invention; yet some of them translated, and penned in King Richard the Second's Days, and after the Insurrection of Jack Straw, which was in the fourth Year of the same King; for in the Tale of the Nuns Priest, he maketh mention thereof.
The Romaunt of the Rose was translated out of French.
Troilus and Creseid, called Trophe in the Lumbard Tongue, was translated out of Latin, as in the Preface to the second Book of Troilus and Creseid he confesseth in these Words:
Mary Magdalen, translated out of St. Origen.
The Ballad, Fly from the Prease, made by Chaucer on his Death-bed:
The Letter of Cupid is none of Chaucer's doing, but was compiled byThomas Occleve, vel Ockelese, vir tam bonis literis, quam generis prosapia clarus exquisua quadam Anglici sermonis eloquentia post Chaucerum, cujus suerat discipulus, patriam ornavit linguam. Johannis Wiclevi, & ipsius Berengarii in religione doctrinam sequebatur. Tractatus hos fecit: Planctum proprium. Dialogum and amicum. De quadam Imperatrice. De arte moriendi. De coelesti Hierusalem. De quodam Jonatha. De Regimine Principis. Thomas Occleve, of the Office of the privy Seal, sometime Chaucer's Scholar. The which Occleve, for the Love he bare to his Master, caused his Picture to be truly drawn in his Book De Regimine Principis, dedicated to Henry the Fifth; the which I have seen, and according to which this in the beginning of this Book was done by Mr. Spede, who hath annexed thereto all such Coats of Arms, as any way concern the Chaucers, as he found them (travelling for that Purpose) at Ewelm and at Wickham.
Occleve, in that Book where he setteth down Chaucer's Picture, addeth these Verses:
His Death.
GEffrey Chaucer departed out of this World the 25th of October, in the Year of our Lord 1400, after he had lived about 72 Years. Thus writeth Bale out of Leland; Chaucerus ad canos devenit, sensitque senectutem morbum esse; & dum causas suas Londini curaret, &c. Chaucer lived till he was an old Man, and found old Age to be grievous: and whilst he followed his Causes at London, he died, and was buried at Westminster.
[Page] The old Verses which were written on his Grave at the first, were these:
But since Mr. Nicholas Brigham did at his own Cost and Charges erect a fair marble Monument for him, with his Picture, resembling that done by Occleve; and these Verses:
About the Ledge of which Tomb were these Verses; now clean worn out:
Now it shall not be amiss to these Epitaphs, to add the Judgements and Reports of some learned men, of this worthy and famous Poet. And first of all, Thomas Occleve, who lived in his Days, writeth thus of him in his Book De Regimine Principis:
The same Author again in the same Book:
[Page] DanJohn Lidgate Monk of Bury, an excellent Poet: He travelled France and Italy, to learn the Languages and Sciences. John Lidgate likewise, in his Prologue of Bocchas of the Fall of Princes, by him translated, saith thus in his Commendation.
Afterward in the same place do follow fourscore and three Verses in the Commendation of Chaucer, and the Books that he made particularly named.
In a Book of Master Stow's (but I know not who was the Author) I find these Verses;
John Lidgate again, in a Book which he writeth of the Birth of the Virgin Mary, hath these Verses;
The excellent and learned Scottish Poet Gawyne Dowglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, in the Preface of Virgil's Eneados, turned into Scottish Verse, doth thus speak of Chaucer:
About William Caxton's Time,This William Caxton of London, Mercer, brought Printing out of Germany into England about the latter end of the Reign of Henry the Sixth, and practised the same in the Abbey of St. Peter at Westminster. It was first found in Germany at Mogunce, by one John Cuthembergus, a Knight; and brought to Rome by Conradus an Almaigne, as some Authors say. Stephanus Surigonius, Poet Laureat of Millain, did write this Epitaph upon Geffrey Chaucer, in Latin.
Epitaphium Galfridi Chaucer, per Poetam laureatum Stephanum Surigonum Mediolanensem in decretis licentiatum.
And as for men of later time, Mr. William Thynn, that learned Gentleman, and painful Collector of Chaucer's Works, in his Epistle Dedicatory to the King's Majesty, hath duely set forth the commendable Qualities of this Poet; whose Judgment we are the rather to approve, for that he had farther insight into him than many others: of whom, John Bale, in his Book De Scriptoribus Britan. Centur. 12. hath some 60 Years past delivered this; Guilhelmus Thynn, praeclari generis homo, & ab ineunte aetate in literis educatus, multo labore, sedulitate & cura usus, in perquirendis vetustis exemplaribus, Chauceri [Page] opera restituit, atque in unum collegit volumen: quod Henrico octavo Anglorum regi dedicavit. Since whose time, two of the purest and best Writers of our days, the one for Prose, the other for Verse, Mr. Ascham and Mr. Spenser, have delivered most worthy Testimonies of their approving of Chaucer. Mr. Ascham in one Place calleth him English Homer, and makes no doubt to say, that he valueth his Authority of as high Estimation as ever he did either Sophocles or Euripides in Greek. And in another place, where he declareth his Opinion of English versifying, he useth these Words. Chaucer and Petrark, those two worthy Wits, deserve just Praise. And last of all, in his Discourse of Germany, he putteth him nothing behind either Thucidides or Homer for his lively descriptions of site of Places, and nature of Persons both in outward shape of Body, and inward disposition of Mind; adding this withal, That not the proudest that hath written in any Tongue whatsoever, in these Points, can carry away the Praise from him.
Mr. Spenser, in his first Eglogue of his Shepherds Kalendar, calleth him Tityrus, the God of Shepherds, comparing him to the Worthiness of the Roman Tityrus Virgil. In his Fairy Queen, in his Discourse of Friendship, as thinking himself most worthy to be Chaucer's Friend, for his like natural Disposition that Chaucer had, the sheweth, that none that lived with him, nor none that came after him, durst presume to revive Chaucer's lost Labours in that imperfect Tale of the Squire, but only himself; which he had not done, had he not felt (as he saith) the Infusion of Chaucer's own sweet Spirit surviving within him. And a little before, he termeth him, Most renowned and Heroical Poet; and his Writings, The Works of Heavenly Wit; concluding his Commendation in this manner:
And once again I must remember Mr. Camden's Authority, who as it were reaching one hand to Mr. Ascham, and the other to Mr. Spenser, and so drawing them together, uttereth of him these Words: De Homero nostro Anglico illud vere asseram, quod de Homero eruditus ille Italus dixit:
And that we may conclude his Praises with the Testimony of the worthiest Gentleman that the Court hath afforded in many Years; Sir Philip Sidney, in his Apology for Poetry, saith thus of him; Chaucer undoubtedly did excellently in his Troilus and Creiseid; of whom truly I know not whether to marvel more, either that he in that misty time could see so clearly, or that we in this clear Age walk so stumblingly after him. Seeing therefore that both old and new Writers have carried this reverend Conceit of our Poet, and openly declared the same by Writing, let us conclude with Horace, in the eighth Ode of his fourth Book:
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE READER.
HAving, for some Years last past, been greatly sollicited by many Learned and Worthy Gentlemen, to Re-print the Works of this Ancient Poet; I have now, not only to answer their Desire, but I hope to their full Satisfaction, perform'd the Obligation long since laid upon me, and sent Chaucer abroad into the World again, in his old dress, and under the Protection of his own Merits, without any new Preface or Letters Commendatory, it being the Opinion of those Learned Persons, that his own Works are his best Encomium.
Whereas in the Life of Chaucer, mention is made of a Tale, call'd the Pilgrims Tale, which is there said to have been seen in the Library of Mr. Stow, and promis'd to be printed so soon as opportunity should offer; I have, for the procuring of it, used all Diligence imaginable, not only in searching the publick Libraries of both Universities, but also all private Libraries that I could have Access unto; but having no Success therein, I beg you will please to accept my earnest Endeavour to have serv'd you, and take what is here printed, it being all that at present can be found that was Chaucer's.
THE Works of Ieffrey Chaucer, With Additions. Also the Siege and Destruction of the worthy City of Thebes; Compiled by John Lidgate, Monk of BVRY.
Virtue flourisheth in Chaucer still, Though Death of him hath wrought his will.
To the KING's HIGHNESS, My most Gracious Soveraign Lord, HENRY the Eighth, By the Grace of God, King of England, and of France, Defensor of the Faith, and Lord of Ireland, &c.
AMongs all other excellencies, most Gracious Soveraigne Lord, wherewith Almighty God hath endowed mankind, above the residue of earthly creatures, as an outward declaration of reason or reasonableness, wherein consisteth the similitude of Man unto Angels, and the difference between the same and brute beasts, I verayly suppose, that Speech or Language is not to be reputed amongs the smallest or inferiours: for thereby is expressed the conceit of one to another, in open and plaine Sentence, which in the residue of lively creatures lacketh and is not shewed amongs them, but by certain covert and derke signes, and that in few things, having course and operation onely of nature. This Speech or Language, after the confusion of Tongues, sent by Gods punishment for pride and arrogancy of people, hath been by a certaine instinct and disposition natural, devised and invented in sundry parts of the world, as fellowships or companyings of folks one with another chaunced, much to the outward expressing of the thing in word or sound, according to that whereof it had meaning or signification. But in processe of time, by diligence or pollicy of people, after divers formes, figures, and impressions in mettall, barks of trees, and other matter used for memory and knowledge of things, then present or passed, sundry letters or carectes were first amongs the Phenices devised and found, with such knittings and joynings of one to another, by a marvellous subtilty and craft, as counterveiled was and is equivalent to the same Languages. So as the conceit of mans mind, which at the beginning was used to be declared by mouth only, came to such point, that it was as sensibly and vively expressed in writing. Hereupon ensued a great occasion & courage unto them that should write, to compone and adorne the rudeness and barbariety of speech, and to forme it to an eloquent and ordinate perfection: whereunto many, and many great Poets and Orators have highly employed their studies and courages, leaving thereby notable Renoume of themselves, and example perpetual to their posterity. Amongs other, the Greeks in all kinds of sciences seemed so to prevail, and so to ornate their Tongue, as yet by other of right noble Languages cannot be perfitely imitated or followed. The Latines by example of the Greeks, have gotten or wonne to them no small glory, in the forming, order, and uttering of that Tongue. Out of the which two, if it be well searched, that is to say, Greeke and Latin (though by corruption of speech it should seeme much otherwise) have been derived the residue of the Languages, that be written with the letters of carectes of either of them both: But of all Speeches, those which most approch to ye Latin, be the Italian and Spanish Tongues; of whom the one by corruption of the Gothes and Longobardes had her beginning, as Latin spoken by strangers of a barbare understanding: the other being also Latin, was by Vandales, Gothes, Moores, Sarracenes, and other so many times blemished, as marveile it is to see now unto what perfection these two formed out of the Latin and Barbares speeches be reduced. Next unto them in similitude to the Latin is the French tongue, which by diligence of people of the same, is in few years passed so amended, as well in Pronunciation as in Writing, that an Englishman, by a small time exercised in that Tongue, hath not lacked ground to make a Grammere, or rule ordinary thereof. Though of trouth (which some shall scarcely believe) the Germans have so formed the order of their Language, that in the same is both as much plenty and as nere concordaunce to the phrase of the Latin, as the French Tongue hath. And veraily, like as all these and the rest have been thus vigilant and studious to meliorate or amend their Languages; so hath there not lacked amongs us, Englishmen, which have right well and notably endeavored and emploied themselves, to the beautifying and bettering of the English Tongue.
Amongs whom, most excellent Prince, my most redoubted and gracious soveraign lord, I your most humble Vassale, Subject & Servaunt, William Thynn, chief Clerke of your Kitchin, mooved by a certain inclination and [Page] zeal, which I have, to hear of any thing sounding to the laud and honour of this your noble Realm, have taken great delectation, as the times and leisers might suffer, to rede and heare the books of that noble & famous Clerke Geffrey Chaucer, in whose workes is so manifest comprobation of his excellent learning, in all kindes of doctrines and sciences, such fruitfulness in words, well according to the matter and purpose, to sweet & pleasaunt sentences, such perfection in metre, the composition so adapted, such freshness of invention, compendiousnesse in narration, such sensible and open stile, lacking neither majesty ne mediocrity, covenable in disposition, and such sharpness or quickness in conclusion, that it is much to be marvailed, how in his time, when doutless all good letters were laid asleep throughout the world, as the thing, which either by the disposition and influence of the bodies above, or by other ordinaunce of God, seemed like (as was in danger) to have utterly perished, such an excellent Poet in our tongue, shuld as it were (nature repugning) spring and arise. For tho it had been in Demosthenes or Homerus times, when all learning and excellency of sciences flourished amongs the Greeks, or in the season that Cicero prince of eloquence amongs Latines lived, yet had it been a thing right rare & straunge, and worthy perpetual laud, that any Clerke by learning or witte, could then have framed a tongue, before so rude & imperfite, to such a sweet ornature and composition; likely, if he had lived in these days, being good letters so restored and revived as they be, if he were not empeached by the envy of such as may tollerate nothing, which to understond, their capacity doth not extend, to have brought it unto a full and final perfection. Wherefore, gracious soveraigne lord, taking such delight and pleasure in the works of this noble Clerke (as is aforementioned) I have of a long season much used to rede and visite the same, and as books of divers imprints came unto my hands, I easily and without great study might and have deprehended in them many errours, falsities, and depravations, which evidently appeared by the contrarieties and alterations found by collation of the one with the other, whereby I was moved and stirred to make diligent search where I might find or recover any true copies or exemplaries of ye said books, whereunto in process of time, not without cost and pain, I attained, and not only unto such as seem to be very true copies of those works of Geffrey Chaucer, which before had been put in print, but also to divers other never till now imprinted, but remaining almost unknowne, and in oblivion: whereupon lamenting with my self the negligence of the people that have been in this Realm, who doubtless were very remiss in the setting forth or avauncement either of the Histories thereof, to the great hinderaunce of the renoume of such noble Princes, & valiant Conquerours and Captains, as have been in the same, or also of the works of memory of the famous and excellent Clerks in all kinds of sciences, that have flourished therein. Of which both sorts, it hath pleased God as highly to nobilitate this Isle, as any other Region of Christendome: I thought it in manere appertenaunt unto my duty, and that of very honesty and love to my Country, I ought no less to do, than to put my helping hand to the restauration and bringing again to light of the said works, after the true Copies and Exemplaries aforesaid. And devising with my self, who of all other were most worthy, to whom a thing so excellent and notable should be dedicate, which to my conceit seemeth for the admiration, novelty, and strangeness, yt it might be deputed to be of in the time of ye Authour, in comparison, as a pure and fine tried precious or pollished jewel, out of a rude or indigest masse or matere, none could to my thinking occurre, that since, or in ye time of Chaucer, was or is sufficient, but only your Majesty Royal, which by discretion and judgement, as most absolute in wisedome, and all kinds of doctrine, could, and of his innate clemency and goodness would, add or give any Authority hereunto.
For this cause, most excellent, and in all vertues most prestante Prince, I as humbly prostrate before your Kingly estate, lowly supply and beseech the same, yt it woll vouchsafe to toke in good part my poor study and desirous mind, in reducing unto light this so precious and necessary an ornament of the tongue in this your Realm, over pitous to have been in any point lost, falsified, or neglected: So that under the shield of your most royal Protection and Defence, it may go forth in publick, and prevail over those yt would blemish, deface, and in many things clearly abolish the laud, renoume, and glory heretofore compared, and meritoriously adquired by divers Princes, and other of this said most noble Isle, whereunto not only Straungers under pretext of high learning and knowlege of their malicious and perverse minds, but also some of your own subjects, blinded in folly and ignoraunce, do with great study contend. Most gracious, victorious, and of God most elect and worthy Prince, my most dread soveraigne Lord, in whom of very merite, duty, and succession, is renued the glorious Title of Defensor of ye Christen Faith, which by your noble Progenitour, the Great Constantine, sometime King of this Realm, & Emperour or Rome, was next God and his Apostles, cheefly maintained, corroborate, and defended: Almighty Iesu send to your Highness the continuall and everlasting habundance of his infinite Grace. Amen.
A TABLE of the Principal Matters Contained in this VOLUME; Which you may find by the Folio's, as follows.
- Folio
- THE Prologues of the Canterbury Tales 1
- The Knights Tale Folio 9
- The Millers Tale Folio 26
- The Reves Tale Folio 33
- The Cooks Tale Folio 36
- The man of Laws Tale Folio 38
- The Squires Tale Folio 47
- The Marchants Tale Folio 53
- The Wife of Bathes Prologue Folio 62
- The Wife of Bathes Tale Folio 69
- The Freres Tale Folio 72
- The Sompnours Tale Folio 75
- The Clerke of Oxenfords Tale Folio 80
- The Frankeleins Tale Folio 91
- The second Nonnes Prologue Folio 98
- The second Nonnes Tale Folio 99
- The Prologue of the Chanons Yeoman 102, Folio 103
- The Chanons Yeomans Tale Folio 104
- The Doctour of Physickes Tale Folio 110
- The Pardoners Prologue Folio 112
- The Pardoners Tale Folio 113
- The Shipmans Tale Folio 117
- The Prioresse Prologue Folio 121
- The Prioresse Tale ibid.
- The Rime of Sir Topas Folio 123
- The Tale of Chaucer Folio 125
- The Monks Prologue Folio 141
- The Monks Tale Folio 142
- The Tale of the Nonnes Priest Folio 149
- The Manciples Tale Folio 155
- The Plowman's Tale Folio 157
- The Parsons Tale Folio 169
- The Romaunt of the Rose Folio 199
- The first Booke beginneth Folio 258
- The second Booke beginneth Folio 268
- The third Booke beginneth Folio 283
- The fourth Booke beginneth Folio 298
- The fifth Booke beginneth Folio 313
- The Testament of Creseide Folio 329
- The Prologue Folio 334
- The Legend of Cleopatras Folio 339
- The Legend of Tisbe of Babylon Folio 340
- The Legend of Queene Dido Folio 341
- The Legend of Hipsiphile and Medea Folio 345
- The Legend of Lucrece of Rome Folio 347
- The Legend of Ariadne Folio 349
- The Legend of Philomene Folio 351
- The Legend of Phillis Folio 353
- The Legend of Hypermestra Folio 354
- A goodly Ballad of Chaucer Folio 355
- The first booke beginneth Folio 356
- The second booke beginneth Folio 363
- The third booke beginneth Folio 373
- The fourth booke beginneth Folio 387
- The fifth booke beginneth Folio 399
- The Dream of Chaucer called the Duchess Folio 408
- The Assembly of Poules Folio 418
- The Floure of Courtesie Folio 425
- How Pity is dead, &c. Folio 427
- La belle dame sans mercy Folio 428
- Annelida and false Arcite Folio 435
- The Complaint of Annelida to false Arcite Folio 437
- The Assembly of Ladies Folio 439
- The Conclusion of the Astrolaby Folio 445
- The Complaint of the black Knight Folio 460
- A Praise of Women Folio 466
- The first booke beginneth Folio 467
- The second booke beginneth Folio 471
- The third booke beginneth Folio 476
- The Prologue of the Testament of Love Folio 484
- The first booke beginneth Folio 485
- The second booke beginneth Folio 500
- The third booke beginneth Folio 521
- [Page]The Lamentation of Mary Mag. Folio 537
- The Remedy of Love Folio 545
- The Complaint of Mars and Venus Folio 548
- The Complaint of Mars alone Folio 550
- The Complaint of Venus alone Folio 551
- The Letter of Cupid Folio 552
- A Ballad of our Lady Folio 556
- A Ballad to King Henry the IV. Folio 558
- Three Sayings of Dan John Lid. Folio 562
- Of the Cuckow and the Nightingale ibid.
- Scogan unto the young Lords and Gentlemen of the King's House Folio 565
- Divers other Ballads of Chaucer, &c. Folio 567
- A Ballad of good Counsel, made by John Lidgate Folio 569
- A Praise or Commendation of Caucer's Eloquence Folio 570
- A Ballad, [...]eaching what is Gentilness ibid.
- A Proverb against Covetise and Negligence ibid.
- A Ballad against unconstant Women ibid.
- How all things in this World is variable, save Women only ibid.
- The Craft of Lovers Folio 571
- A pleasant Ballad of Women Folio 573
- The ten Commandements of Love ibid.
- The nine Ladies worthy Folio 574
- Certain Ballads Folio 575
- How Mercury, with three Goddesses, appeared to Paris Folio 576
- A Ballad pleasaunt ibid.
- The discriving of a fair Lady ibid.
- A Ballad warning men to beware of deceitful Women ibid.
- Certain Verses compiled by Chaucer Folio 578
- A Ballad declaring the worthiness of Womens Chastity Folio 579
- The Court of Love ibid.
- Chaucer's Dream Folio 592
- The Floure and the Leafe Folio 609
- The A. B. C. called, la priere de nostre dame Folio 615
- Jack Upland Folio 616
- Chaucer's Words to Adam his own Scrivener Folio 621
- The Prologue of the Story of Thebes Folio 622
- The first Part of the Siege of Thebes Folio 623
- The second Part of the Siege of Thebes Folio 630
- The third Part of the Siege of Thebes Folio 643
Eight goodly Questions, with their Answers.
To the King's most noble Grace, and to the Lords and Knights of the Garter.
¶The Knight. 1.
¶The Squire. 2.
¶The Squires Yeoman. 3.
¶The Prioresse. 4.
¶The Monke. 5.
¶The Frere. 6.
¶The Marchaunt. 7.
¶The Clerke of Oxenford. 8.
¶The Sergeant at Law. 9.
¶The Frankelein. 10.
¶The Haberdasher. 11.
¶The Coke. 12.
¶The Shipman. 13.
¶The Doctor of Phisike. 14.
¶The Wife of Bathe. 15.
¶The Parsone. 16.
¶The Plowman. 17.
¶The Miller. 18.
¶The Mancile. 19.
¶The Reue. 20.
¶The Sompnour. 21.
¶The Pardoner. 22.
The Knight's Tale.
PAlamon and Arcite, a pair of Friends and Fellow-prisoners, fight a Combat before Duke Theseus, for the Lady Emely, Sister to the Queen Ipolita, Wife of Theseus. A Tale fitting the Person of a Knight, for that it discourseth of the Deeds of Arms, and Love of Ladies.
The MILLERS Tale.
NIcholas, a Scholar of Oxford, practiseth with Alison the Carpenters wife of Osney, to deceive her Husband, but in the end is rewarded accordingly.
¶The Millers Prologue.
¶The Millers Tale.
¶The Reues Prologue.
DEnyse Simkin, the Miller of Trompington, deceiveth two Clarks of Schollars Hall in Cambridge, in stealing their Corn; but they so use the matter, that they revenge the wrong to the full. The Argument of this Tale is taken out of Bocchace in his Novels.
¶The Reues Tale.
¶The Cookes Prologue.
THE Description of an unthriftie Prentice, given to Dice, Women, and Wine, wasting thereby his Masters Goods, and purchasing Newgate to himself. The most of this Tale is lost, or else never finished by the Author.
¶The Cookes Tale.
¶The man of Lawes Prologue.
LAdy Custance the Emperours Daughter of Rome, after her marriage with the Soudan of Surrey, through the Malice of the Soudans Mother, suffereth great trouble and misery with her young Child Mauris: but yet in the end is restored to Comfort.
¶The man of Lawes Tale.
¶The Squires Prologue.
The King of Arabie sendeth to Cambuscan King of Sarra, an Horse and a Sword of rare qualitie: and to his daughter Canace a Glass and a Ring, by the vertue whereof she understandeth the language of all Fowls. Much of this Tale is either lost, or else never finished by Chaucer.
The Squires Tale.
¶Here followeth the words of the Marchaunt to the Squier, and the words of the Host to the Marchaunt.
The Marchants Prologue.
¶The Marchants Tale.
Old January marrieth young May, and for his unequal match receiveth a foul reward.
The wife of Bathes Prologue.
A Batcheler of King Arthurs Court is enjoined by the Queen to tell what thing it is that Women most desire. At length he is taught it by an old Woman, who for that cause is enforced to marry her.
¶The wife of Bathes Tale.
¶The Friers Prologue.
¶The Freres Tale.
THE Sompner and the Devil meeting on the way, after conference, become sworn brethren, and to Hell they go together. A covert invective against the Bribery of the Spiritual Courts in those dayes.
¶The Sompners Prologue.
¶The Sompners Tale.
A Begging Fryar coming to a Farmers house, who lay sick, obtaineth of him a certain Legacy, which must be equally divided among his Covent. A requital to the Friar, shewing their cozenage, loytering, impudent begging, and hypocritical praying.
¶The Clerke of Oxenfords Prologue.
¶The Clerke of Oxenfords Tale.
WAlter the Marquesse of Saluce proveth the patience of his wife Grisill, by three most sharp trials.
Explicit prima pars, & sequitur pars secunda.
Explicit secunda pars, & incipit pars tertia.
Explicit tertia pars, & incipit pars quarta.
Explicit quarta pars, & sequitur pars quinta.
Explicit quinta pars: & sequitur pars sexta.
¶Here follow the words of our Host.
¶The Frankeleins Prologue.
¶The Frankeleins Tale.
AUrelius, after much labour and cost bestowed to win the love of Dorigen, another mans wife, is content in the end, through the good dealing of her and her husband, to lose both labour and cost. The scope of this Tale seemeth a contention in courtesie.
¶The Second Nonnes Prologue.
¶The second Nonnes Tale.
The life and death of Saint Cecily.
¶The Chanons Yeomans Prologue.
¶The Thanons yeomans Tale.
A Priest of London, more covetous than wise, is deceived by a Chanon professing the Art of Alchimy.
¶The Doctor of Physicks Prologue.
¶The Doctor of Physicks Tale.
Virginius slayeth his onely Daughter, rather than that she shall be defiled by the letcherous Judge Appius.
¶The words of the Host.
¶The Pardoners Prologue.
¶The Pardoners Tale.
A company of Riotours conspire to kill Death, who killeth them one after another.
¶The Shipmans Prologue.
¶The Shipmans Tale.
A Marchant of S. Denise is cozened by his own Wife, and by a Monke called Dan John. This Argument is taken out of Bochas in his Novels.
¶Here followeth the wordes of our Hoste.
¶The Prioresses Prologue.
¶The Prioresses tale.
A miracle of a Christians Child, murthered by the Jewes.
¶Here followeth the wordes of the Hoste to Chaucer.
¶Here followeth the Rime of Sir Thopas.
A Northern tale of an outlandish Knight, purposely uttered by Chaucer, in a differing rime and stile from the other tales, as though he himself were not the Author, but onely the reporter of the rest.
¶The words of our Hoste.
¶Chaucers Tale of Melibeus.
Prudence, the discreet wife of Melibeus, persuadeth her husband to patience, and to receive his Enemies to mercy and grace. A Tale full of Morality, wherein both high and low may learn to govern their affections.
AYong man called Melibeus, mighty and rich, begate upon his wife that called was Prudence, a doughter which that called was Sophie.
Vpon a day befell that he for his disport is went into the fields him to play: his wife and eke his doughter had he left within his house, of which the doores were fast ishet. Foure of his old foes han it aspied, and setten ladders to the walles of his house, and by the windowes beene entred, and bet his wife, and wounded his doughter with five mortall woundes, in five sundry places: That is to say, In her feet, in her honds, in her eares, in her nose, and in her mouth, and leften her for dede, and wenten her way.
When Melibeus returned was into his house, and see all this mischiefe, hee like a mad man, renting his clothes, gan to weep and crie.
Prudence his wife, as farre foorth as shee durst, besought him of his weping for to stint: But not for thy, he gan to weep and cry ever lenger the more.
This noble wife Prudence, remembred her upon the sentence of Ovid, in his booke that cleped is the remedy of loue, whereas he saith, * Hee is a foole that distourbeth the mother to weepe, in the death of her childe, till she have wept her fill, as for a certain time: and then shall a man doen his diligence with amiable [Page 126] wordes, to recomfort and pray her of her weeping for to stint. For which reason this noble wife Prudence suffered her husbond to weepe and cry, as for a certaine space: and when she saw her time, shee saied him in this wise. Alas, my Lord (qd. she) why make ye your selfe for to be like a foole? Forsoth it apperteineth not unto a wise man to maken such a sorowe. Your doughter with the grace of God, shall warish and escape. And all were it so that she right now were dead, yee ne ought not as for her death your self destroy. Senek saith, * The wise man shall not take to great discomfort for the death of his children, but certes he should suffer it in patience, as wel as he abideth ye death of his own proper person.
This Melibeus answered anon and said: What man (qd. he) should of his weping stint, that hath so great a cause for to weep: Iesus himselfe, our Lorde, wept for the death of Lazarus his friend. Prudence answered, certes well I wote, * A temperat weeping is nothing defended, to him that sorowfull is, among folke in sorow, but it is rather graunted him to weepe. The Apostle Paule unto the Romanes writteth, Men should rejoyce with him that maketh joye, and weepe with such folke as weepen. But though a temperate weeping be granted, certes outragious weeping is defended. Measure of weeping should be considered, after the lore that teacheth us Senek. * When yt thy friend is dead (qd. he) let not thine iyen to moist been of teers, ne to much drie: although teeres comen to thine eyen, let hem not fall. And when thou hast forgon thy friend, doe diligence to get another friend: and this is more wisedom than for to weepe for thy friend, which thou hast lorne, for therein is no bote. And therefore if ye govern you by sapience, put away sorow out of your heart. Remembreth you that Iesus Sirake saieth, * A man yt is joyous and glad in hart: it him conserueth florishing in his age: But sothly a sorowfull heart maketh his bones drie. Hee saith eke thus, That sorow in heart slayeth full many a man. Salomon sayeth, * That right as mouths in the sheepes fleise annoieth the clothes, and the small wormes the tree, right so anoieth sorow the hart of man, wherefore us ought as well in the death of our children, as in the losse of our temporal goods, have patience.
Remember you upon patient Iob, when hee had lost his children and his temporall substaunce, and in his bodies endured and receiued full many a grieuous tribulation, yet saied hee thus: * Our Lord it sent to me, our Lord hath bereft it me, right so as our Lord would, right so it be done, iblessed be the name of our Lord. To these foresaid things Melibeus unto his wife Prudence answered: All thy words (qd. he) ben true, and thereto profitable, but truely mine heart is troubled with this sorrow so grievously, that I not what to do. Let call (qd. Prudence) your true friends al & thy linage, which that been wise, and telleth to hem your case, and hearkeneth what they say in counsailing, & gouerne you after her sentence. Salomon saith, * Werke all thy things by counsaile, & thou shalt never rue. Then by counsaile of his wife Prudence, this Melibeus let cause a great congregation of people, as Surgiens, Phisitions, old folke and yong, and some of his old enemies reconciled (as by her semblance) to his loue and to his grace: & therwithal there came some of his neighbours, that did him reverence more for dread than for loue, as it happe ofte.
There comen also ful many subtil flatterers, and wise Advocates learned in the lawe.
And when these folkes togeders assembled were, this Melibeus in sorrowfull wise shewed hem his case, and by the manner of his speech, it seemed that in hart he bare a cruell ire, ready to doen vengeaunce upon his foes, and suddainly, he desired that warre should begin, but natheles, yet asked he counsaile upon this matter. A Surgien, by licence and assent of such as were wise, up rose, and unto Melibeus saied, as ye shall heare.
Sir (qd. he) as to us Surgiens appertaineth, that we doe to every wight the best that we can, where as we beene withholden, and to our patient that wee dooen no damage: wherefore it happeth many time & ofte, that when two men have everch wounded other, one Surgien healeth hem both, wherfore vnto our arte it is not pertinent to norish warre, ne parties to support. But certes, as to ye warishing of your doughter, all be it so that perilously she be wounded, we shall doe so tentife businesse fro day to night, that with the grace of God, she shall been whole & sound, as soone as is possible. Almost right in the same wise the Phisitions answered, saue yt they saiden a few words more: That right as maladies beene by her contraries cured, right so shall a man warishe warre by peace. His neigbours full of enuie, his fained friends yt seemed reconciled, & his flatterers, maden semblaunce of weeping, & enpaired & agrutched much of this matter, in praysing greatly Melibe, of might, of power, of riches, and of friends, dispising the power of his aduersaries: and said vtterly, that hee anon should wreken him on his foes, and begin warre.
Vp rose then an Aduocate that was wise, by leaue and by counsaile of other that were wise, & saied: The neede for the which wee beene assembled in this place, is a full heauie thing, & a great matter, because of ye wrong and of the wickednesse yt hath bee doen, and eke by reason of great damages, that in time comming been possible to fallen for the same, and eke by reason of ye great riches & power of the parties both, for the which reasons, it were a full great peril to erren in this matter. Wherefore, Melibeus, this is our sentence, we counsaile you abouen all thing, that right anon thou doe thy diligence in keeping of thy proper person, in such a wise yt thou ne [Page 127] want non espie ne watch, thy body for to saue: And after yt, we counsaile yt in thine house thou set sufficient garrison, so as they may as well thy body as thy house defend: But certes to mouen warre, or to doen suddainly vengeaunce, we may not deeme in so little time that it were profitable, wherefore we aske leiser and space to haue deliberation in this cause to deme, for the common prouerbe saith thus: * He yt sone deemeth, sone shall repent. And eke men saine, * Thilke Iudge is wise yt sone vnderstondeth a matter, & iudgeth by leiser. * For all be it tarriyng be noifull, algate it is not to be reproued in yeuing of iudgement, ne in vengeance taking, when it is sufficient & reasonable. And yt shewed our lord Iesu Christ by ensample, for when the woman was taken in auoutrie, and was brought in his presens to knowen wt shuld be doen of her person, all be it that he wist wel himself wt he would answere, yet ne would he nor answere suddainly, but he would haue deliberation, & in the ground he wrote twise, & by this cause we asken deliberation: and we shall then by the grace of God counsaile you that thing that shall be profitable.
Vp stert then the yong folke at ones, and the most part of that companie haue scorned this old wise man, and begun to make noise & said. * Right so as whiles that iron is hot men should smite, right so men should wreken her wrongs while that they been fresh & new, and with loud voyce they cried warre, warre. Vp rose then one of the old wise, & with his hand made countenance that they should holden hem still, and yeuen him audience. Lordings, qd. he, There is full many a man that crieth warre, warre, that wote full lite what warre amounteth. * Warre at his beginning hath so great an entring & so large, that every wight may enter when him liketh and lightly find warre: but certes what end thereof shall fall, it is not lightly to know. When that warre is once begun, there is ful many a child vnborne of his mother, that shal sterue yong, because of thilke warre, other els liue in sorrow, or dien in wretchednesse: And therefore or that any warre bee begon, men must haue great counsaile and good deliberation. And whan this olde man wende to enforten his tale by reason, wel nie all at ones begon for to rise, for to breaken his tale, & bidden him full oft his wordes to abredge. * For certes hee that preacheth to hem that list not heare his wordes, his sermon hem annoieth. For Iesus Sirake sayeth, yt weeping in musick is a noious thing, This is as much to say, as much auaileth it to speake beforne folk to which his speech anoieth as it is for to singen before hem that weepe. And when this wise man saw that him wanted audience, all shamefast he set him adown ayen. For Salomon saith: There as thou mayest not have audience, enforce thee not to speake. I see well (qd. this wise man) that the common Proverbe is such, * That good counsail wanteth when it is most need.
Yet had this Melibeus in his counsaile many folke, yt privily in his eare counsailed him certain things, & counsailed him the contrary in general audience. When Melibeus had heard that the greatest part of his counsaile were accorded that he should make war, anon he consented to her counsailing, and fully affirmed her sentence. Then Dame Prudence, when that she saw her husbonde shope him for to awreke him on his enemies, and to begin warre: shee in full humble wise, when shee saw her time, sayed to him these words: My lorde (qd. she) I you beseech as heartily as I dare or can, ne halfe you not too fast, and for all guerdons yeue me audience. For Peter Alphons saieth, * Whoso doeth to thee good or harme, haste thee not to quite it, for in this wise thy friend woll abide, & thine enemie shall ye lenger liue in dread. The prouerbe saieth, * He hasteth well that wisely can abide: And in wicked hast is no profite.
This Melibe answered to his wife Prudence: I purpose not (qd. he) to werke by thy counsaile, for many causes and reasons: for certes euery wight would hold mee then a foole. This is to say, if I for thy counsailing would change things that been ordeined and affirmed by so many wise. Secondly, I say, that all women beene wicked, and none good of hem all. For of a thousand men saith Salomon, I found one good man: But certes of al women found I neuer none. And also certes, if I gouerned mee by thy counsaile, it should seeme that I had yeue thee ouer mee ye maistrie: and God forbid that it so were. For Iesus Sirake saieth, that if the wife haue maistrie, shee is contrarious to her husbond. And Salomon saieth, * Neuer in thy life to thy wife, ne to thy childe, ne to thy friend, ne yeue no power ouer thy selfe: for better it were that thy children aske of thee things that hem needeth, than thy selfe to be in the hands of thy children. And also if I woll werche by thy counsail, certes my counsail must be somtime secrete, till it were time that it must bee knowen: and this ne may not bee, if I should be counsailed by thee. When dame Prudence full debonairly and with great patience, had heard all that her husbonde liked for to say, then asked she of him licence for to speake, & saied in this wise. My lord (qd. she) as to your first reason, it may lightly been answerd: * For I say that it is no follie to chaunge counsaile when the thing is changed, or els when the thing seemeth otherwise than it seemed afore. And moreouer I say, though that yee haue sworne & behight to performe your emprise, & by just cause ye doe it not, men should not say therefore ye were a lyer & forsworn: For the booke saieth, * That the wise man maketh no lesing, when hee turneth his corage for the better. And albeit that your emprise bee established and ordeined by great multitude of folke, yet dare you not accomplish thilke ordinance but you liketh: for the trouth of things, & the profit, been rather founden in [Page 128] few: folke that been wise and full of reason, than by great multitude of folke, there every man crieth and clattereth what him liketh: soothly such multitude is not honest. And as to ye second reason, whereas ye say, * That all women ben wicked: save your grace, Certes ye despise all women in this wise, & he that all despiseth, as saith the booke, al displeaseth. And Senecke saith, * That who so woll haue Sapience, shall no man dispraise, but he shall gladly teach the science that he can, without presumption or pride: and such things as he nought ne can, hee shall not beene ashamed to learne hem, and to enquire of lesse folke than himselfe. And yt ther hath ben many a good woman, may lightly be prooued: for certes sir, our Lord Iesu Christ nold neuer han discended to be borne of a woman, if all women had be wicked: And after yt, for the great bounte that is in women, our Lord Iesu Christ, when he was risen from death to life, appeared rather to a woman than to his Apostles. And tho that Salomon sayed, he found neuer women good, it followeth not therefore, that all women be wicked: for though that hee ne found no good woman, certes many another man hath founde many a woman full good and true. Or els perauenture ye entent of Salomon was this, * That in soueraign bounte he found no woman, this is to say: yt there is no wight that hath parfite bounte saue God alone, as he himselfe recordeth in his Euangelie. * For there nis no creature so good yt him ne wanteth somwhat of ye perfection of God that is his maker. Your third reason is this. Ye say yt if that ye gouerne you by my counsaile, it should seeme that ye had yeue me the maistrie and the lordship of your person, Sir, saue your grace it is not so, for if so were that no man should bee counsailed but onely of hem that han lordship and maistrie of his person, men nolde not bee counsailed so oft: For sothly thilke man that asketh counsaile of a purpose, yet hath he free will whither hee woll doe after that counsaile or non. And as to your fourth reason, there as yee saine that the ianglerie of women can hide things that they wot not, as who so saieth, yt a woman cannot hide that she wote. Sir, these wordes been vnderstonde of women that been iangelers and wicked, of which women men saine that three things driuen a man out of his house, that is to say, smoke, dropping of raine, and wicked wiues. And of such women Salomon saieth, * That a man were better dwell in deserte, than with a woman that is riottous: And sir by your leaue, it am not I, for ye haue full oft assaied my great silence & my great patience, and eke how well that I can hide and heale things, that men oughten secretly to hiden. And sothly as to your fift reason, whereas you say, yt in wicked counsaile women vanquish men: God wote that thilke reason stant here in no stede: for vnderstondeth now, ye asken counsaile for to doe wickednes: * And if ye woll werken wickednes, & your wife restraineth thilke wicked purpose, and ouercome you by reason & by good counsail: certes your wife ought rather to bee praised than blamed. Thus should you vnderstonde the Phylosopher yt saieth, * In wicked counsaile women vanquish her husbondes. And there, as ye blame al women & her reasons, I shall shewe you by many ensamples, that many women haue be full good, and yet been, and her counsaile wholesome and profitable. Eke some men han saied, that ye counsaile of women is either to deere, or too little worth. But albeit so yt full many women bee bad, and her counsaile vile and nought worth, yet han men found full many a good woman, & full discrete and wise in counsailing. Lo Iacob through the counsaile of his mother Rebecke, wan the benison of his father, and the Lordship of all his brethren: Iudith thorow her good counsaile, deliuered the citie of Bethule, in which she dwelt, out of the honde of Holofern that had it all besieged, & wold haue destroyed it. Abigaile deliuered Naball her husbond fro Dauid the king, yt would haue slaine him, and appeased the ire of the King by her wit, and by her good counsaile. Hester by her counsaile enhaunced greatly ye people of God, in the reigne of Assuerus the King. And the same bountie in good counsailing of many a good woman may men reade and tell. And furthermore, whan that our Lord hath created Adam our former father, hee saied in this wise: * It is not good to be a man alone: make wee an helper to himselfe semblable. Here may yee see that if that women were not good, and her counsaile good and profitable, our Lorde God of heauen ne would neither han wrought hem, ne called hem the helper of man, but rather confusion to man. And there sayed a clerke ones in two verses: What is better than gold? * Iasper. What is better than Iasper? Wisdom. And what is better than Wisdome? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? That is a good man? And what is better than a good man? Nothing. And sir, by many other reasons may yee seene, that many women been good, and eke her counsaile good and profitable. And therefore sir, if that yee woll trust to my counsaile, I shall restore you your doughter hole and sound: and eke that I woll doe you so much, yt ye shall haue honour in this case.
When Melibe had heard the words of his wife Prudence, he saied thus: I see well that ye words of Salomon be sooth: For he saith, * The words yt bee spoken discretly by ordinaunce, been Honicombes, for they yeuen sweetnesse to the soule, and holsomnesse to ye body. And wife, because of thy sweet words, and eke for I haue proued & assaied thy great Sapience and thy great trouth, I woll gouerne me by thy counsaile in all thing.
Now sir, (qd. dame Prudence) and sithens that ye vouchsafe to be gouerned by my counsaile, I woll enforme you how that yee shall [Page 129] govern your self, in chusing of your counsailours. Ye shall first in all your werke, mekely beseeching to the high God, yt he would be your counsailour, and shapeth you to such entent that hee yeue you counsaile and comforte, as taught Thobie his sonne. * At all times thou shalt blesse God, and praie him to dresse thy ways, and loke eke that thy counsailes been in him evermore. Saint Iames saieth, if any man of you have neede of sapience, aske it of God. And afterwarde, then shullen ye take counsaile in your selfe, and examine well your owne thoughts, of such things as you thinken that beene best for your profit: And then shall yee drive fro your heart things that bee contrarious to good counsaile: that is to say, ire, covetise, and hastinesse.
First, * He yt asketh counsaile of himselfe, certes he must be withouten ire and wrath in himselfe, for many causes, The first is this: He that hath great ire and wrath in himselfe, he weneth alway that he may doe thing that he may not do. And secondly, he that is irous and wrothfull, he may not well deeme: And hee that may not well deeme, may not well counsell. The third is this, hee that is irous & wroth, as saieth Seneke, may not speake but blamefull things, and with thilke vicious wordes hee stirreth other folke to anger and to ire. And eke sir yee must drive covetise out of your heart. For ye Apostle saith, * That covetise is the roote of all harmes. And trusteth right well, that a covetous man ne can not deem ne thinke, but only to fulfill the end of his covetise: and certes that ne may never be accomplished, for evermore, the more haboundance that he hath of richesses, the more hee desireth. And sir ye must also drive out of your heart hastinesse: For certes ye may not deme for the best a suddain thought that falleth in your heart, but ye must advise you on it full oft: For as yee have heard here before, the common proverb is this. * He yt sone deemeth, sone repenteth.
Sir, ye ne be not alway in like disposition, for certes some thing that seemeth somtime to you that is good for to doe, another time it seemeth to you the contrarie.
And when ye han taken counsaile in your selfe, and han deemed by good deliberation such thing as you seemeth best, than rede I you that yee keepe it secret. Bewray yee not your counsaile to no person, but if so be that yee wene sikerly, that through your bewraying, your condition shall bee to you the more profitable. For Iesus Sirake saith: * Neither to thy foe ne to thy friend discover not thy secret, ne thy folly: for they woll yeue you audience and looking, and supportation in your presence, and scorn you in your absence. Another Clerke sayth, * That scarsly shall you finde any person that may keepe counsaile secretly. The booke saieth, * While that thou keepest the counsaile in thine heart, thou keepest it in thy prison: and when thou bewrayest thy counsaile to any wight, hee holdeth thee in his snare. And therefore you is better to hide your counsaile in your heart, than to pray him to whom yee have bewrayed your counsaile, that he woll keepe it close still. For Seneca saieth: If so be that thou maiest not thine owne counsaile hide, howe darest thou pray any other wight thy counsaile secret to keepe. But nathelesse, if thou wene sikerly that thy bewraying of thy counsaile to a person woll make thy condition stonde in ye better plight, then shalt thou tell him thy counsaile in this wise. First thou shalt make no semblant whether thee were lever peace or warre, or this or that, ne shewe him not thy will ne thine entent: for trust well that commonly these counsailours beene flatrerers, namely the counsailours of great lordes, for they enforce hem alway rather to speak pleasant words enclining to the lordes lust, than words that ben trew or profitable: and therfore men say, * that ye rich man hath seld good counsaile, but if hee have it of himselfe. And after that thou shalt consider thy friendes and thine enemies. And as touching thy friendes, thou shalt consider which of hem been most faithfull and most wise, and eldest and most approved in counsailing: and of hem shalt thou aske thy counsaile, as the case requireth.
I say, that first yee shall call to your counsaile your friends that been true. For Saloman saith: * That right as ye heart of a man deliteth in savour that is sote, right so the counsaile of true friends yeueth swetenesse to the soule. And hee saieth also, there may nothing be likened to ye true friend: For certes gold ne silver bee not so much worth as the good will of a true friend. And also he saith, that a true friend is a strong defence, who so that it findeth hath a great treasure. Then shall ye also consider if that your true friends be discreet & wise: for the booke saith, Aske alway thy counsaile of them that bin wise. And by this same reason shall ye call to your counsaile your friends yt beene of age, such as seeme and beene expert in many thinges, and been approoved in counsailing. For the booke saieth, * That in olde men is Sapience, & in long time the prudence. And Tullius saieth, * That great things beene not aye accomplished by strength, ne by delivernesse of body, but by counsaile, by aucthoritie of persons, and by Science: the which three things ne beene not feeble by age, but certes they enforce and encrease day by day, and then shall ye keep this for a generall rule. First shall yee call to your counsaile a fewe of your friends yt been especial. For Salomon saieth, * Many friends have thou, but among a thousand chuse thee one to bee thy counsailour: For all bee it so, that thou first ne tell thy counsaile but to a fewe, thou mayest afterwarde tell it to mo folke, if it bee neede. But looke alway that thy counsaylours have those conditions that I have [Page 130] sayd before, yt is to say, That they be true, wise, and of old experience. And werke not alway in every need by one Counsailer alone: for sometimes behooueth it to bee counsailed by many. For Salomon sayth, * Saluation of things is where as there be many counsaylers.
Now haue I told you of which folke yee shall be counsailed: now woll I tell you which cousaile yee ought to eschew. First yee shall eschew the counsailing of fooles, Salomon sayth, * Take no counsaile of a foole, for hee woll counsaile but after his owne lust & his affection. The booke sayth, that the propertie of a foole is this: * He troweth lightly harme of euery man, and lightly troweth all bountie in himselfe. Thou shalt eschew the counsailing of all flaterers, which as enforcen hem rather to praise your person by flatterie, than for to tell you the soothfastnesse of things.
Wherefore Tullius sayeth, * Among all the pestilence that been in friendship, the greatest is flatterie. And therefore it is more need yt thou eschew and dread flatterers, than any other people. The booke saith, * Thou shalt rather flee fro the sweete wordes of flattering and praising, than fro the eagre words of thy friends that saith the sooths. Salomon saith, * That the words of a flatterer is a snare to catch innocence. He sayth also, * He yt speaketh to his friend wordes of flatterie and of pleasaunce, he setteth a net beforne his feet to catch him. And therefore Tullius sayth, Encline not thine eares to flatterers, ne take no counsaile of flatterers. And Caton sayeth, * Auise thee well, and eschew the wordes of sweetnesse and of pleasaunce. And eke thou shalt eschew the counsailing of thine old enemies that been reconciled. The booke sayth, * That no wight retourneth safely into the grace of his old enemie. And Isope sayth, * Ne trust not to hem, to which thou hast sometime had war or enmity, ne tell hem not thy counsaile. And Seneck telleth ye cause why it may not be, for he sayth, * There as great fire hath long time endured, that there dwelleth some vapour of heat. And therefore saith Salomon, * In thine old foe trust thou neuer. For likerly though thine enemie be reconciled & make the signe of humilitie, and loute to thee with his head, trust him neuer: for certes he maketh thilke faigned humility more for his profite, than for any humility, or for any loue of thy person, because that he deemeth to haue victory ouer thy person by such fained countenaunce, the which victorie he might not haue by strife or warre. And Petrus Alphons sayeth, * Make no fellowship with thine old enemies, for if thou do hem bounty, they wollen pervert it to wickedness. And eke thou must eschew the counsailing of hem yt been thy servaunts, and bearen thee great reverence: for peraventure they sayne it more for dread than for love. And therfore saith a Philosopher in this wise: * There is no wight perfitly true to him that he dredeth. And Tullius sayth, There is no might so great of any emperour that long may endure, but he haue loue of the people and dread. Ye shall eschew also the counsailing of folke that been dronklewe, for they ne can no counsaile hide. For Salomon sayth, * There nis no priuity there as reigneth drunkennesse. Ye shall haue also in suspect ye counsailing of such folke as counsaile you one thing priuily, and counsaile you the contrarie openly. For Cassidorie sayeth, * That it is a manner of sleight to hinder his enemy when he sheweth to done a thing openly, and werketh priuily ye contrary. Thou shalt haue also in suspect the counsailing of wicked folke, that be alway full of fraud. And Dauid sayth, * That blisfull is the man yt hath not followed the counsailing of shrews. Thou shalt also eschew the counsailing of yong folke, for her counsailing is not ripe, as Salomon saith.
Now sir, sithens I haue shewed you of such folke as ye shall be counsailed of, and follow it: now woll I teach you how ye shall examine your counsaile. After ye doctrine of Tullius, in examining of your counsailers, ye shal consider many things.
First thou shalt consider thilke thing that thou purposest, and vpon that thing that thou wolt haue counsaile, that very trueth be said & conserued, this is to say, * Tell truly thy tale, for he yt sayeth false, may not well be counsailed in that case, of which he lieth. After this, thou shalt consider the things that accorden to yt thou purposest for to doe by thy counsailours, if reason accord thereto, and eke if thy might may attaine therto: & if the more part and the better part of your counsailours accorden thereto or no. Then shalt thou consider what thing shall follow of her counsailing: As hate, peace, warre, grace, profite, or damage, and many other things: and in all things shalt thou chuse the best, and weiue all other things. Then shalt thou consider of what root is engendred the matter of thy counsaile, and what fruit it may conceive & engender. Thou shalt eke consider all the causes, from whence they be sprong. And when thou hast examined thy counsaile, as I haue said, & which partie is the better and more profitable, and hast approoued it by many wise folke and old, then thou shalt consider, if thou maiest performe it & make of it a good end. * For certes reason woll not that any man shall begin a thing, but if he might performe it as him ought: ne no wight should take vpon him so heauie a charge, but yt he might bere it. For ye proverbe sayth, * He that to much embraceth distraineth little. And Caton saith, * Assay to do such things as thou hast power to done, least the charge oppresse thee too sore, that thee behooueth weiue thing yt thou hast begunne, And if so be yt thou be in dout, whether thou maiest performe a thing or none, chuse rather for to suffer than to begin. And Peter Alphons saieth, * If thou hast might to do a thing, of [Page 131] which thou must repent, it is better holde thy tongue still than for to speake. Then maiest thou vnderstond by stronger reasons, that if thou hast power to perfourme a werke, of which thou shalt repent thee, then it is better thou suffer than begin. * Well saine they that defenden euery wight to assay a thing of which he is in doubt, whether he may performe it or none. And after when ye haue examined your counsaile (as I haue said before) and know well that yee may performe your emprise, conferme it then sadly till it bee at an end.
Now it is reason and time that I shewe you when and wherfore that ye may chaunge your counsaile, withouten reproofe. * Soothly, a man may change his purpose & his counsaile, if the cause ceaseth, or when a newe case betideth. For ye law saith, * That vpon things that newly betideth, behooueth newe counsaile. And Seneke saieth, * If thy counsaile is come to the eares of thine enemies, chaunge thy counsaile. * Thou maiest also chaunge thy counsaile, if so be thou find that by error or by any other cause, harme or dammage may betide. * Also if thy counsaile be dishonest, other els come of dishonest cause, chaunge thy counsaile. For ye law saith, * That all behests that be dishonest, ne been of no value: And eke, * If so be that it bee vnpossible, or may not gladly be perfourmed or kept.
And take this for a general rule, * That euery counsaile that is enformed so strongly, yt it may not be chaunged for no condition that may betide, I say that ilke counsail is wicked.
MElibeus, when he had heard the doctrine of his wife Dame Prudence, aunswerd in this wise. Dame (qd. he) as yet vnto this time ye han well taught me, as in gouernaile how I shall gouern me in ye chusing and in the withholding of my counsaile: But now would I faine that ye would condiscend in especial, how yt ye seemeth by our counsailours that wee haue chose in this present need.
My lord (qd. she) I beseech you in all humblesse, that yee woll not wilfully replie ayenst my reasons, ne distemper your hert, though I speake thing that you displease, for God wote as in mine entent, I speake it as for your best and for your honour and profit eke, & soothly I hope that your benignity woll take it in patience. And trusteth me well yt your counsaile in this case neshould not (as to speak properly) be called a counsailing, but a motion or a mouing of folly, in which counsaile ye haue erred in many a sundry wise.
First yee haue erred in the assembling of your counsailours: For first yee should haue cleped a fewe folke to your counsaile, & after yee might haue shewed it to mo, if it had bee neede. But ye haue cleped to your counsail a great multitude of people, full chargeous & full noyous for to heare. Also ye haue erred, for there as yee should haue onely cleped to your counsaile your trew friends, olde and wise, ye haue cleped straunge folke, yong folk, false flatterers, and enemies reconciled, and folk yt done you reuerence withouten loue. * And eke yee haue erred, for yee haue brought with you to your counsaile, ire, couetise, & hastinesse, ye which three things been contrary to euery good counsaile, honest & profitable: the which three things yee haue not destroyed neither in your self ne in your counsailours, as ye ought. Ye haue erred also, for yee haue shewed to your counsailours your talent and your affections to make warre anon, & for to do vengeance, and they haue espied by your words to what thing ye beene enclined: & therefore han they rather counsailed you to your talent, than to your profite. Ye han erred eke, for it seemeth that you sufficeth to haue be counsailed by these counsailours onely, and with little auisement, whereas in so high and in so great a need, it had been necessarie mo counsailours, and more deliberation to performe your emprise. Ye han erred also, for ye haue not examined your counsaile in ye foresaid matters ne in due manner, as y• case requireth. Ye haue erred also, for ye made no diuision betweene your true friends & your fained counsailours: ne ye haue not knowne the will of your trewe counsailours and friends, old, & wise, but ye haue cast all her words in an hochpot, and enclined your heart to the more part and to the greater number of fooles than of wise men. * And therefore ye counsaylings that beene at congregations and multitudes of folke, there as men take more regard to the number, than to the sapience of persons: ye seene well, yt in such counsaylings fooles han the maistrie. Melibeus answerd and said ayen: I graunt well that I haue erred, but there as thou hast told me here beforne, yt he nis not to blame that chaungeth his counsaile in certaine case, and for certaine and just cause I am all redie to chaunge my counsailours right as thou wouldest deuise. The Prouerbe sayth, * For to done sinne, is mannish, but certes for to persevere long in sinne, is werke of the Diuell.
To this sentence answereth anone dame Prudence, & said: Examineth (qd. she) well your counsaile, and let vs see which of hem hath spoke most reasonably, and taught you best counsaile. And for as much as the examination is necessarie, let vs begin at Surgiens and Physicians, that first spake of this matter. I say that Physicians & Surgiens haue saied you in your counsayle discreetly, as hem ought: & in her speech said full wisely, that to the office of hem appertaineth to done to euery wight honour & profite, and no wight to annoy, & after her craft to done great diligence vnto the cure of hem which they haue in her gouernaunce: & sir, right as they have answerd wisely and discreetly, right so read I yt they beene highly & souerainly guerdoned for her noble speech, [Page 132] and eke for they shull more done their ententife businesse in ye curation of your doughter. For all beit so they been your friends, therfore shullen ye not suffer, that they serue you for nought, but ye ought therafter guerdon hem, and pay hem her largesse. And as touching y• proposition, which the Physicians entreteden in this case, this is to saine, that in maladies is, * That contrarie is warished by another contrary: I would faine know how ye vnderstond thilke text, and what is your sentence. Certes (qd. Melibeus) I vnderstond it in this wise: Right as they han doe me a contrary, so should I done hem another, for right as they han venged hem vpon me & done me wrong, right so woll I venge me vpon hem, & done hem wrong, and then haue I cured one contrary by another.
Lo lo (qd. dame Prudence) how lightly is euery man enclined to his own desire & his owne pleasaunce, Certes (qd. she) ye wordes of the Physicians ne should not been vnderstond in yt wise: for certes wickednesse is not contrary to wickednesse, ne vengeaunce is not contrarie to vengeaunce, ne wrong to wrong, but euery of hem encreaseth and engendreth other. But certes the words of the Physicians should be vnderstond in this wise, for good and wickednesse ben two contraries: and peace and warre, vengeaunce and suffraunce, discord and accord, and many other things: * But certes, wickednesse shall be warished with goodnesse, discord by accord, warre by peace, and so forth in other things. And therto accordeth saint Paule the Apostle in many places: He sayth, Ne yeeld not harme for harme, ne wicked speech for wicked speech, but doe well to hem that done to thee harme, and blesse hem that saith thee harme. And in many other places he admonisheth peace & accord. But now woll I speke of ye counsaile which was iyeue vnto you by men of Lawe, and the wise folke, and old folke, that sayden all by one accord as ye heard beforne, That ouer all things ye shall done your businesse & diligence to keepe your person, and to warnstore your house: And they said also, that in this case ye ought to werchen full wisely & with great deliberation. And sir, as to the first point, that toucheth the keeping of your person: ye shall vnderstond, that he that hath warre, shall euer deuoutly and meekly praien beforne all things, that Iesu Christ, of his mercie woll haue him in his protection, and to be his soueraigne helper at his need: For certes in this world there nis no wight that may be counsailed and ikept sufficiently without the keeping of our lord Iesu Christ. To this sentence accordeth the Prophet Dauid yt sayth: * If God ne kept the Citty, in idle waketh hee that it keepeth. Now sir, then should hee commit the keeping of your person to your true friends, that been approued and iknow, and of him should ye aske helpe, your person to keep. For Caton saith: * If thou haue need of helpe, aske it of thy friends, for there nis none so good a Hhysician as thy true friend. And after this then shall yee keep you fro all straunge folke, and fro liers, and have alway in suspect her companie. For Peter Alphons saieth: * Ne take no company by the way, of no straunge man, but if so bee that thou hast known him of lenger time: And if so be that he fall into thy companie, peradventure withouten thine assent and good will, enquire then as subtelly as thou canst, of his conversation, and of his life beforne, and faine thy way, saying thou wouldest go thider as thou wolt not goe: & if he beare a speare, hold thee on the right side of him, & if he beare a swerd, hold thee on the left side of him. And then shall ye keepe you wisely from all manner of such people as I have saied you here before, and hem and her counsaile eschew. And after this then shall yee keepe you in such manner, that for any presumption of your bodily strength, that ye despise not ne account not the might of your adversary so lite, that ye let the keeping of your person for your presumption, * For every wise man dredeth his enemie. And Salomon sayth: * A very foole is he yt of all hath drede: * But certes he that thorow hardnesse of his heart and through ye hardinesse of himselfe, hath too great presumption, him shall euill betide. Then shall ye euermore encounter, waite, embushments, and all espiaile. For Seneke sayeth: * The wise man yt dredeth harmes, escheweth harmes: * He ne falleth into no perils, that perill escheweth. And all be it so, that thou seeme yt thou be in secret place, yet shalt thou alway done diligence in keeping of thy person, this is to say, ne be not negligent to keepe thine owne person, not onely for thy greatest enemy, but also for thy least enemy. Seneke sayth, * A man yt is well aduised, he dreadeth his least enemie. Ouid sayth, * That ye little wesell woll slee ye great Bull and the wild Hart. And the Prouerbe sayth, * That a little thorn woll greeue a king full sore, and a little hound woll hold ye wild Bore. But nathalesse, I say not thou shalt be so coward, that thou doubt where as is no dred. The book sayth, That somemen haue great lust to deceiue, but yet they dread to bee deceiued. And keepe thee fro ye companie of scorners: * For the booke sayth, With scorners ne make no company, but flie her words as venome.
Now as to the second point, whereas your wise Counsaylours counsayled you to warnestore your house with great dilligence, I would faine know how yee vnderstond thilke wordes, and what is your sentence.
Melibeus answered and said, certes I vnderstond it in this wise, that I shall warnestore mine house with toures, such as haue castles & other maner edifices, and armure, and archeries, betweene which things I may my person and my house so keepe & defend, that mine enemies shullen be in dread [Page 133] mine house to approch. To this sentence answered anon Prudence. Warnishing (qd. she) of high toures and of high edifices, is with great costages and with great travaile, and when yt they ben accomplished, yet bin they not worth a straw, but if they been defended with true friends, that ben old and wise. And understondeth well, that the greatest and the strongest garnison that rich men may have, as well to keepen her person, as her goods, is, that they be beloved with her subjects, and with her neighbours. For thus sayth Tullius, * That there is a manner garrison, yt no man may vanquish ne discomfite, and that is a lord to be beloved of his citizens, and of his people.
Nowe sir, as to the third point, whereas your olde and wise Counsaylours saied, yt ye ought not suddainly ne hastily proceed in this need, but that yee ought purueyen and apparaile you in this case, with great dilligence and deliberation. Verely, I trow that they saied right truly and right sooth. For Tullius sayth: * In every deed or thou begin it, apparaile thee with great diligence. Then say I, in vengeaunce taking, in war, in battaile, and in warnestoring, or thou begin, I rede that thou apparaile thee thereto, and do it with great deliberation. For Tullius sayth: * The long apparailing tofore the battaile, maketh short victorie. And Cassidorus sayth: * The garrison is stronger, when it is long time avised. But now let us speake of the Counsayle that was accorded by your neighbours, such as done you reverence withouten love, your old enemies reconciled, your flatterers, that counsailed you certain things prively, and openly counsailed you the contrarie. The young folke also, that counsailed you to venge you, and to make warre anon. Certes sir, as I have saied before, ye have greatly erred to clepe such manner of folke to your counsaile, which counsailours ben ynough reproued by the reasons aforesaid. But nathelesse, let us now descend to the special. Ye shull first proceed after the doctrine of Tullius. Certes the trouth of this matter or of this counsaile needeth not diligently to enquire, for it is wel wist, which they been that han done you this trespas and villanie, and how many trespassours, and in what manner they have done all this wrong to you, and all this villany. And after this, then shull ye examine the second condition, which Tullius addeth in this matter. For Tullius putteth a thing, which that he clepeth consenting: this is to say, who ben they and which been they, and how many, that consenten to thy counsaile in thy wilfulnesse, to done hastie vengeaunce. And let us consider also who been they, and how many they been that consented to your adversaries. As to the first point, it is well knowen which folke they be that consented to your hastie wilfulnesse. For truly, all tho that counsaile you to maken suddaine warre, ne be not your friends. Let see now which beene they that ye holden so greatly your friends, as to your person: For albeit so that ye be mighty and rich, certes ye been but alone: for truly yee ne have no child but a doughter, ne ye have no brethren ne cousin Germaines, ne none other nigh kinrede, wherefore your enemies should stint to plead with you, ne to destroy your person. Ye know also, that your riches mote be dispended in diverse parties. And when that every wight hath his part, they wollen take but little regard to venge your death. But thine enemies ben three, & they have many brethren, children, cousins, and other nigh kinrede: and though so were, that thou haddest slaine of hem two or three, yet dwelleth there ynowe to avenge her death, and to slea thy person. And though so be that your kinrede be more stedfast and siker than the kinne of your adversaries, yet neverthelesse your kinrede is but after kinrede, for they ben but little sibbe to you, and the kinne of your enemies ben nigh sibbe to hem. And certes as in that, her condition is better than is yours. Then let us consider also of the counsayling of hem that counsayled you to take suddaine vengeaunce, whether it accord to reason or non: And certes yee know well nay, for as by right & reason, there may no man take vengeaunce of no wight, but the judge that hath jurisdiction of it, when it is graunted him to take vengeaunce hastely, or attemperately, as the Law requireth. And yet moreover of thilke word that Tullius clepeth consenting, thou shalt consent, if that thy might and thy power may consent and suffice to thy wilfulnesse, and to thy counsaylours: And certes, thou mayest well say nay, for sikerly as for to speake properly, * We may do nothing but such thing as we may done rightfully: and certes rightfully ye may take no vengeaunce, as of your own proper authority. Then may ye see that your power ne consenteth not, ne accordeth not with your wilfulnesse. Nowe let us examine the third point, that Tullius clepeth consequence. Thou shalt understond, yt the vengeaunce that thou purposest for to take, is consequent, and thereof followeth another vengeaunce, perill, & warre, and other dammages withouten number, of which wee be not ware, as at this time. And as touching the fourth point, that Tullius clepeth engendring, thou shalt consider, that this wrong which that is done to thee, is engendred of the hate of thine enemies, and of the vengeaunce taking upon hem, yt would engender another vengeaunce, and muckell sorrow and wasting of richesse, as I sayed ere.
Now sir, as touching the fift point, that Tully cleapeth causes, which is the last point, thou shalt understond, that the wrong that thou hast received, hath certain causes, which that clerkes callen oryen, and effycien, and causa longinqua, and causa propinqua, that is to say the ferre cause, and the nigh [Page 134] cause. The ferre cause is almighty God, that is cause of all things. The neere cause, is the three enemies. The cause accidentall was hate. The cause material, ben ye five wounds of thy doughter. The cause formall, is ye maner of their werking, that brought ladders, and clambe in at thy windowes. The cause finall was for to slea thy doughter, it letted not in as much as in them was. But for to speak of the ferre cause, as to what end they should come, or finally, what shall betide of them in this case, ne can I not deme, but by conjecting and supposing: For we shall suppose, that they shall come to a wicked end, because that the booke of Decrees sayth: * Seld or with great paine ben causes brought to a good end, when they ben badly begun.
Now sir, if men would aske me, why that God suffred men to do you this villany. Truly I cannot well answer, as for no soothfastnesse. For ye Apostle sayeth, * That the sciences, and the judgements of our Lord God Almightie been full deep, there may no man comprehend ne search hem. Nathelesse by certain presumptions & coniectings, I hold & beleeve, that God, which that is full of justice and of righteousnes, hath suffred this betide, by iust cause reasonable.
Thy name is Melibe, this is to say, a man that drinketh Honey. Thou hast dronke so much honey of sweet temporall richesse, and delices of honours of this world, that thou art dronke, & hast forgotten Iesu Christ thy creatour: Thou ne hast not doen to him such honour and reverence as thee ought, ne thou ne hast not taken keepe to ye words of Ovid that sayth: * Vnder ye Honey of the goods of thy bodie is hid ye venome yt slaeth thy soule.
And Salomon sayth: * If it so be yt thou hast found honey, eat of the same honey that that sufficeth: for if so bee that thou eat of the same honey out of measure, thou shalt spewe, and also be needy & poore. And peraventure Almightie God Iesu Christ hath thee in dispight, and hath tourned away fro thee his face, and his eares of misericorde & mercie. And also he hath suffred & give licence, that thou thus shouldest bee punished and chastised, in ye manner that thou hast trespassed & offended. Thou hast done sinne against our Lord Christ, for certes the three enemies of mankind, that is to say: the flesh, the fiend, and the world, thou hast suffered hem entre into thine heart wilfully, by the windowes of thy body, & hast not defended thy selfe sufficiently ayenst their assaults, and their temptations, so that they have wounded thy soule in five places, this is to say: the deadly sinnes that ben entred into thy hart by thy five wits. And in the same manner our Lorde Christ hath would and suffered, that thy three enemies been entered into thy hous, by yt windowes, and have wounded thy doughter in the foresaied manner.
Truly (qd. Melibe) I see well that yee enforce you much by words to overcome me, in such manner, that I shall not venge mee on mine enemies, shewing me ye perils and the evils yt might fall of this vengeaunce: but who so would consider in all vengeances the perils & evils that might sue of vengeaunce taking, a man would never take vengeaunce, and that were harme: for by the vengeaunce taken been ye wicked men discevered fro the good men. And they yt have will to doe wickednesse, restrain their wicked purpose, when they see the punishing and chastising of the trespassours: & yet say I mo [...]e. * That right as a singular person sinneth, in taking vengeaunce of another man, right so sinneth ye judge, if he doe no vengeaunce of hem that have deserved. For Senecke sayeth thus: * That maister, he sayth is good, that preveth shrews. And as Cassiodore saith: * A man dredeth to do outrages, when he wot & knoweth, yt it displeaseth to ye Iudges and Soveraignes. And another sayth: * The Iudge yt dreadeth to doe right; maketh men shrewes. Add saint Poule the Apostle sayeth in his Epistle, when he writeth unto the Romanes,
* That the Iudge bear not the speare without-cause, but they beare it to punish the shrewes and misdoers, and for to defend the good men.
If ye woll then take vengeaunce of your enemies, ye shull retourne and have your recourse to the Iudge, that hath the jurisdiction upon hem, and he shall punish hem, as the law asketh and requireth.
A ha, saied Melibe, this vengeaunce liketh me nothing, I bethink me now, and take heed how that fortune hath nourished mee fro my childhood, and hath holpe me to passe many a stronge paas: Now I would assay her, trowing with Gods helpe, that she shall helpe mee my shame for to avenge.
TRuly saied Prudence, if yee woll werke by my counsaile, yee shall not assay fortune by no way: ne yee shall not lean or how unto her, after the words of Senecke: * For things that been foolishly doen, and that been done in hope of fortune, shall never come to good end. And as ye same Senek sayth: * The more clere and the more shining that fortune is, the more britle & the sooner broke she is. Trusteth not in her, for she is not stedfast ne stable. For when thou trowest to be most sure & stedfast of her helpe, she woll faile and deceive thee. And whereas ye say, that fortune hath nourished you fro your childhood, I say that in so much ye shall the lesse trust in her, & in her wit. For Seneke saith: * What man yt is nourished by fortune, she maketh him a great foole. Now then sith ye desire & aske vengeaunce, & the vengeaunce that is done after the law, and before the judge, ne liketh you not, and the vengeaunce that is doen in hope of fortune, is perillous and uncertaine, then have yee none other remedie, but for to haue your recourse vnto the soveraine iudge that vengeth all villanies and wrongs. And [Page 135] he shall venge you, after that himself witnesseth, whereas he saith: * Leave the vengeaunce to me, and I shall do it.
Melibeus answerd, if I ne venge me of ye villanie yt men haue doen to me, I summon or warne hem that haue doen to me that villanie & all other, to doe me another villany. For it is written: * If thou take no vengeaunce of an old villany, thou summonest thine aduersaries to do thee a new villanie, & also for my sufferaunce, men would doe me so much villanie, that I might neither beare it ne sustain it, & so should I be put and holden ouer low. For men sain, * In mikell suffring shal many things fall vnto thee, which thou shalt not mow suffer.
Certes (qd. Prudence) I graunt you, yt ouermuch suffraunce is not good, but yet ne followeth it not thereof, that euery person to whom men doe villanie, should take of it vengeance: for that appertaineth and longeth all onely to Iudges, for they should venge ye villanies and iniuries: And therefore those two authorities, that yee haue saied before, beene onely vnderstond in the Iudges: * For when they suffer ouermuch the wrongs and villanies to bee doen, withouten punishment, they summon not a man all onely for to doe newe wrongs, but they commaund it. Also a wise man sayth, * That ye Iudge that correcteth not the sinner, commaundeth & biddeth him doe sinne. And the Iudges and soueraines might in their lond so much suffer of the shrews and misdoers, that they should by such suffraunce, by processe of time, were of such power & might, that they should put out the Iudges and the Soueraignes from their places, and at last, make hem lese her Lordships.
But let vs now suppose, that ye haue leue to venge you: I say yee be not of might and power, as now to venge you: for if ye woll make comparison vnto the might of your aduersaries, yee should find in many thinges, that I haue shewed you er this, yt their condition is better than yours, and therefore say I, that it is good as now, that ye suffer & be patient.
Furthermore, ye know well, that after the common saw, * It is a woodnesse, a manne to striue with a stronger, or a more mightie man than hee is himselfe: and for to striue with a man of euen strength, that is to say, with as strong a man as hee is, it is perill: & for to striue with a weaker man, it is folly, & therfore should a man flie striuing, as mikell as he might. For Salomon sayeth: * It is a great worship to a man to keepe him fro noise and strife: * And if it so befall and hap, yt a man of greater might and strength than thou art, doe thee greeuaunce: studie and busie yt rather to still the same greeuaunce, than for to venge thee. For Seneke sayth, * That he putteth him in great perill, that striueth with a greater man than he is himselfe. And Caton sayth, * If a man of higher estate or degre, or more mightie than thou, do thee annoy or greuaunce, suffer him: for he yt once hath greeued thee, may another time releeue thee and helpe thee. Yet set I case ye haue licence for to venge you, I say that there been full many things yt shall restrain you of vengeance taking, and make you for to encline to suffer, and for to haue patience in the wrongs that haue been doen to you. First and formost, if ye woll consider the faults that been in your owne person, for which faults God hath suffered you haue his tribulation, as I haue saied to you here before. For the Poet sayeth,
* That we ought patiently take ye tribulations that come to vs, when that wee thinke and consider, that wee haue deserued to haue them. And saint Gregorie sayth, * That when a manne considereth well the number of his defaults and of his sinnes, the paines and the tribulatious that he suffereth, seeme the lesse vnto him. And in as much as him thinketh his sinnes more heauie and greeuous, in so much seemeth his paine the lighter and the easier vnto him. Also yee owne to encline and bow your heart, to take the patience of our Lord Iesu Christ, as sayeth saint Peter in his Epistles. Iesu Christ he saith hath suffred for vs, & yeuen ensample to euery man to follow and sue him, for he did neuer sinne, ne neuer came there a villainous word out of his mouth. When men cursed him, he cursed hem not. And when men bete him, he manaced hem not. Also the great patience, which Saints that been in Paradice haue had in tribulation that they haue suffered, without her desert or guilt, ought much stirre you to patience. Furthermore, ye shull enforce you to haue patience, considering that the tribulations of this world but little while endure, and soone passen been and gone, and the joy yt a man seeketh to haue by patience in tribulations is perdurable: After that the Apostle says in his Epistle, * The joy of God he sayeth is perdurable: that is to say, euerlasting. Also troweth and beleeueth stedfastly, that he is not well norished and well taught, that cannot haue patience, or woll not receiue patience. For Salomon sayth, * That ye doctrine and the wit of a man is knowne by patience. And in another place he sayeth, That hee that is patient, gouerneth him by great prudence.
And y• same Salomon saith: * The angrie and wrothfull man maketh noises, and the patient man attempreth and stilleth hem. He saith also, It is no more worth to be patient than to be right strong. And he yt may haue ye lordship of his own heart, is more to praise than he that by his force or strength taketh great cities. And therefore saieth saint Iames in his Epistle, * That patience is a great vertue of perfection.
CErtes (qd. Melibee) I graunt you Dame Prudence, yt patience is a great vertue of perfection, but euery man may not haue ye [Page 136] perfection that yee seeke, ne I am not of ye number of right perfit men: For mine heart may never be in peace, unto the time it bee avenged. And albeit so, yt it was great perill to mine enemies to doe mee a villanie in taking vengeaunce upon me, yet tooke they no heed of ye perill, but fulfilled her wicked will and her courage: and therefore me thinketh men ought not repreve me, though I put me in a little perill for to avenge me, and though I do a great excesse, yt is to say, that I venge one outrage by another.
Ah (qd. dame Prudence) ye say your will as you liketh: but in no case of ye world a man should not do outrage ne excesse, for to venge him. For Cassiodore saith, * That as evill doth he yt vengeth him by outrage, as he that doth y• outrage. And therefore ye shall venge you after the order of right, that is to say, by the law, and not by excesse, ne by outrage. And also if you woll venge you of ye outrage of your aduersaries, in other maner than right commandeth, ye sinne. And therefore sayth Senek: * That a man shall never venge shreudnesse by shreudnesse. And if ye say that right asketh to defend violence by violence, and fighting by fighting: certes ye say sooth, when the defence is doen without intervall, or without tarrying or delay, for to defend him, & not for to venge him. And it behooveth, that a man put such attemperaunce in his defence, that men have no cause ne matter to repreve him that defendeth him of outrage and excesse, for els were it againe reason. Parde yee know well, yt yee make no defence as now, for to defend you, but for to venge you: and so sheweth it, that ye have no will to doe your deed attemperately, & therefore me thinketh that patiente is good. For Salomon saieth, * That he that is not patient, shall have great harme.
CErtes (saied Melibe) I graunt you yt when a man is impatient and wrothe of that that toucheth him not, and that appertaineth not unto him, though it harme him, it is no wonder. For ye law saith, * That hee is culpable that entermetleth or medleth with such things as appertaineth not unto him. And Salomon saith, * That he that entremetleth of the noise or strife of another manne, is like to him that taketh a straunge hound by ye eares: For right as hee that taketh a straunge hound by the eeres, is otherwhile bitten by the hond, right so in the same wise, it is reason that he have harme, that by his impatience medleth him of the noise of another man, whereas it appertaineth not unto him. But ye know well, that this deed, that is to say, my greefe and my disease, toucheth me right nigh. And therefore though I bee wroth and impatient, it is no mervaile: and saving your grace, I cannot see that it might greatly harme me, though I took vengeaunce, for I am richer and more mightie than mine enemies bee: And well know ye, that by money and by having great possessions, beene all things of this world governed. And Salomon sayth, * All these things obey to money.
When Prudence had heard her husbond avaunt him of his richesse and his money, dispraising the power of his adversaries, shee spake and saied in this wise: Certes deare sir, I graunt you that yee bee rich and mightie, and * That ye richesse is good to hem that have well gotten hem, and that well can use them. For right as the body of a manne may not live without the soule, no more may it live without the temporall goodes: and by richesse may a manne get him great friends. And therefore sayeth Pamphillus: If a Nerthes doughter he sayeth be rich, she may chese of a thousand menne, which shee woll take to her husbond: for of a thousand one woll not forsake her ne refuse her. And this Pamphillus saith also: * If thou be right happie, that is to say, if thou be rich, thou shalt find a great number of fellowes and friendes. And if thy fortune chaunge, farewell friendship and fellowship, for thou shalt be alone withouten any companie, but if it be the companie of poore folke. And yet sayeth this Pamphillus moreover, * That they that been bond and thrall of linage, shall be made worthy and noble by the richesses. And right so as by the richesses there come many goodnesses, right so by povertie come there many harmes and evils: * For great povertie constraineth a manne to doe many evils. * And therefore calleth Cassiodor Povertie the mother of ruine, that is to say, the mother of overthrowing or of falling down. And therefore sayth Peter Alfonce: * One of ye greatest adversities of this world is, when a free man by kinde or of birth is constrained by povertie to eate ye almose of his enemie. And the same sayeth Innocente in one of his bookes: He sayth, * That sorrowfull & mishap is the condition of a poore begger, for if he aske not his meat, hee dieth for hunger, and if he aske, he dieth for shame: & algates necessity constraineth him to aske. And therefore sayeth Salomon, * That better is to die, than for to have such povertie. And as the same Saloman sayth: Better it is to die of bitter death, than for to live in such wise. By these reasons that I have said unto you, and by many other reasons that I could say, I graunt you that richesses been good to hem that hem well getten, and to hem that well usen tho richesses: And therfore woll I shew you how ye shall behave you in gathering of riches, and in what manner she shullen use hem.
First, * Yee shall get hem withouten great desire, by good leisure, sokingly, and not over hastily, for a manne that is too desiring to get richesse, habandoneth him first to theft and to all other evils, And therefore sayeth Salomon: * He yt hasteth him too busily to wexe rich, he shall be none innocent. He sayeth also, * That the richesse yt hastily commeth to [Page 137] a manne, soone & lightly goeth and passeth from a man, but that richesse that commeth little and little, wexeth alway and multiplieth. And sir, ye shall get richesse by your wit and by your trauaile, vnto your profite, and that without wrong or harme doing to any other person. For the Law sayeth, * There maketh no manne himselfe rich, if hee doe harme to another wight: this is to say, that nature defendeth and forbiddeth by right, that no manne maketh himselfe rich, vnto ye harme of another person. And Tullius sayth, * That no sorow, ne no dread of death, ne nothing that may fall vnto a man, is so much ayenst nature, as a man to encrease his owne profite, to the harme of another manne. And though the great and mightie menne get richesses more lightly than thou, yet shalt thou not bee idle ne slowe to doe thy profite, for thou shalt in all wise flie idlenesse. For Salomon sayth, * That idlenesse teacheth a man to doe many evils. And the same Salomon sayeth, * That he that trauaileth and busieth him to tilthe his lond, shall eat bread: but he that is idle, and casteth him to no businesse ne occupation, shall fall into pouertie, & die for hunger. And he that is idle and slow, can neuer find couenable time for to doe his profite. For there is a verifier sayeth, * That ye idle manne excuseth him in Winter, because of ye great cold, and in Sommer because of ye heat. * For these causes (sayth Caton) waketh, and encline you not ouer much for to sleepe, for ouer much rest nourisheth and causeth many vices. And therefore sayeth saint Hierome, * Do some good deeds, yt the diuel which is our enemie, ne find you not vnoccupied, for the deuill ne taketh not lightly vnto his werking, such as hee findeth occupied in good werkes.
Then thus in getting richesses ye must flie idlenesse. And afterward yee shull vse the richesses, which yee haue got by your wit and by your trauaile, in such manner, that men hold you not too scarce ne too sparing, ne foole large, yt is to say, ouer large a spender: for right as men blame an auaricious man, because of his scarcitie and chincherie, in the same wise is he to blame, that spendeth ouer largely. And therfore saith Caton: * Vse (sayth he) the richesses that thou hast gotten in such manner that men may haue no matter ne cause to call thee nother wretch ne chinche: * For it is a great shame to a man to haue a poore heart and a rich purse. Hee sayth also, the goods that thou hast gote, vse them by measure, that is to say, spend measurably, for they that foolishly wast and dispend the goods that they haue, when they haue no more proper of her owne, then they shape hem to take the goods of another manne. I say then that ye shall flie auarice, vsing your richesse in such manner, that men say not that your richesses been buried, but that yee haue hem in your might, & in your welding. For a wise man repreueth the auaricious man, & sayth thus in these verses two. * Whereto and why burieth a manne his goods by his great avarice, and knoweth well that needs he must die, for death is the end of every man, as in this present life? And for what cause or encheson joineth he him, or knitteth he him so fast unto his goods, yt al his wits mow not discever him, ne depart him fro his goods, and knoweth well, or ought to know, that when he is dead, he shall nothing bear with him out of this world.
And therefore saith saint Augustine. * That the avaricious manne is likened unto hell, that the more it swalloweth, the more desire it hath to swallow and devour. And as well as yee would eschew to be called an avaricious man or chinche, as well should yee keepe and governe you in such a wise, that menne call you not foole large. Therefore saith Tullius: * The goods of thine house ne should not be hid ne kept so close, but that they might be opened by pity and debonairte, that is to say, to yeue hem part that have great need. Ne thy goods should not be so open, to be every mannes goods. Afterward, in getting of your richesses, and in using hem, ye shall alway have three things in your heart, that is to say, * Our Lord God, conscience, & good name. First, ye shall have God in your heart, and for no richesse yee should doe any thing, which may in any manner displease GOD your creatour and maker. For after ye word of Salomon, * It is better to have a little good with the love of GOD, than to have much good and treasure, and lese the love of his Lord GOD. And the Prophet saith, * That better it is to be a good manne, and have little good and treasure, than to be holden a shrewe, and have great richesse. And yet I say furthermore, that yee should alway doe your businesse to get you richesse, so that yee get hem with good conscience. And ye Apostle sayeth, * That there nis thing in this world, of which wee should have so great joy, as when our conscience beareth us good witnesse. And the Wise man saith: * That the substaunce of a man is full good, when sinne is not in mannes conscience. Afterward, in getting of your richesses, and in using hem, yee must have great bnsinesse and great dilligence, that your good name bee alway kept and conserved. For Salomon saith, * That better it is, and more it availeth a man to have a good name, than for to have many richesses: And therefore he sayeth in another place: * Do great diligence saith Salomon, in keeping of thy friends, & of thy good name, for it shall lenger abide with thee, than any treasure, be it never so precious. And certes, he should not be called a great Gentleman, that after God & good conscience all things left, ne dooth his dilligence and businesse, to keepe his good name. And Cassiodor sayth, * That it is a signe of a gentle heart, when a manne loveth and desireth to have a good name. And therefore sayeth saint Augustine [Page 138] * That there ben two things that been right necessarie and also needfull: and that is good conscience, and good lose, that is to say: good conscience to thine owne person inward, and good lose for thy neighbour outward. And hee that trusteth him so much in his good conscience, that hee despiseth and setteth at nought his good name or lose, & recketh not though he keepe not his good name, nis but a cruell churle.
Sir, now haue I shewed you how ye shuld doe in getting richesses, and how yee should vse hem: and I see well that for the trust that ye haue in your richesses, ye woll moue warre and battaile. I counsaile you that ye begin no warre, in trust of your richesses, for they ne suffice not warres to maintaine. And therefore sayeth a Philosopher: * That a man yt desireth and would algates haue warre, shall neuer haue suffisaunce: for the richer yt he is, the greater dispences must he make, if he woll haue worship and victorie. And Salomon saith, * That the greater riches yt a man hath, the more dispendours he hath. And therfore sir, albeit so, yt for your richesses ye may haue much folke, yet behooueth it not, ne it is not good to begin warre, whereas ye may in other manner haue peace, vnto your worship and profit: * For the victorie of battailes yt been in this world, lieth not in great number or multitude of people, ne in ye vertue of man, but it lieth in the will and in the hond of our Lord God almightie. And therfore Iudas Machabeus, which was Gods knight, when hee should fight against his aduersarie, that had a greater number & a greater multitude of folk, and stronget than was his people of Machabe, yet he recomforted his little companie, and saied right in this wise: Also lightly (saied he) may our Lord God Almightie yeue victorie to a fewe folke, as to many folke. For the victorie of a battaile commeth not by ye great number of people, but it commeth from our Lorde GOD of heeuen. And deare sir, for as much as there is no manne certaine, if it be worthie that God yeue him victorie or not, after that Salomon sayeth, * Therefore euery man should greatly dreade warres to begin: and because yt in battels fall many perils, and happeth other while, that as soone is the great man slaine, as the little man. And as it is written in ye second booke of Kings: The deeds of battailes ben adventurous, and nothing certaine, for as lightly is one hurt with a speare, as another: and for there is great perill in warre, therefore should a man flie and eschew warre in as much as a man may goodly. For Salomon sayeth, * Hee that loueth perill, shall fall in perill.
After that dame Prudence had spoken in this manner, Melibe answerd and said: I see well dame Prudence, that by your fair words and your reasons that ye haue shewed mee, that ye warre liketh you nothing: but I haue not yet heard your counsaile, how I shall doe in this need.
Certes (said shee) I counsaile you that ye accorde with your aduersaries, and that yee haue peace with hem. For saint Iames sayth in his Epistle: * That by concorde & peace, small riches wexe great: and by debate and discorde, riches decay. And yee know well, that one of the greatest & moste soueraigne thing that is in this world, is vnity & peace: And therefore sayeth our Lord Iesu Christ to his Apostles, in this wise: * Well happy beene they that loue & purchase peace, for they be called the children of God. Ah, saied Melibe, now see I well, that ye loue not mine honour, ne my worship, ye know well that mine aduersaries haue begun this debate and brige by their outrage. And yee see well, yt they ne require ne pray me of peace, ne they aske not to be reconciled. Woll ye then yt I goe meeke me, & obey me to hem, and crie hem mercie? Forsoth yt were not my worship. * For right as men say, ouer great humblenes engendreth dispraising, so fareth it by too great humilitie or meekenesse.
Then began dame Prudence to make semblaunt of wrathe, and sayed: Certes sir, saue your grace, I loue your honour and profite, as I doe mine owne, and euer haue doe, ye, ne none other neuer see ye contrary: And yet, if I had saied, that yee should haue purchased peace and reconciliation, I ne had much mistake mee, ne saied amisse. For ye Wise man sayeth: * The discention beginneth by another man, and the reconciling beginneth by thy selfe, And ye Prophet saith: * Flie shreudnesse and doe goodnesse, seeke peace and follow it, in as much as in thee is. Yet say I not, that yee should rather pursue to your aduersaries for peace, than they should to you: for I know well that ye ben so hard hearted, that ye woll doe nothing for me. And Salomon sayth: He that hath ouer hard an heart, he at last shall mishap or misbetide.
When Melibe had heard dame Prudence make semblaunt of wrath, hee saied in this wise. Dame, I pray you that yee be not displeased of thing that I say, for yee know well that I am angry and wroth, and that is no wonder: and they that been wroth, wote not well what they doe, ne what they say. Therefore ye Prophet sayth: * That troubled eyen haue no cleare sight. But say and counsaile me as you liketh, for I am ready to doe right as ye woll desire: And if ye repreue me of my folly, I am the more holden to loue and praise you. For Salomon saith, * That he yt repreueth him yt doth follie, he shall find greater grace, than he that deceiueth him by sweete words.
Then saied Dame Prudence, I make no semblaunt of wrath ne of anger, but for your great profit. For Salomon saith: * He is more wroth, that repreueth or chideth a foole for his follie, shewing him semblaunt of wrath, than hee that supporteth him and praiseth him in his misdoing, & laugheth at his folly. And this same Salomon saith afterward: [Page 139] That by the sorrowfull visage of a man, yt is to say, * By the sorie & heauie countenance of a man, the foole correcteth and amendeth himselfe.
Then said Melibe, I shall not conne aunswere vnto so many faire reasons as ye put to me and shew: say shortly your will and your counsaile, and I am all ready to performe & fulfill it.
Then Dame Prudence discouered all her will vnto him & said: I counsaile you (said shee) aboue all things yt ye make peace betweene God and you, & bee reconciled vnto him and to his grace, for as I haue saied you here before, God hath suffred you to haue this tribulation and disease for your sinnes: and if yee do as I say you, God woll send your aduersaries vnto you, and make hem fall at your feet, ready to doe your will & your commaundement. For Salomon sayeth, * When the condition of man is pleasaunt & liking to God, he chaungeth the hearts of the mans aduersaries, and constraineth hem to beseech him of peace and of grace. And I pray you let me speake with your aduersaries priuely, for they shall not know that it be of your will▪ or your assent: * And then when I know their will and their entent, I may counsaile you the more surely.
Dame, said Melibeus, doth your will and your liking, for I put me wholly in your disposition and ordinaunce.
Then dame Prudence, when she saw the good will of her husbond, delibered & tooke aduise in her selfe thinking how shee might bring this need vnto a good conclusion and to a good end: And when shee saw her time, shee sent for these aduersaries to come vnto her in a priuie place. And shewed wisely vnto hem the great goods that come of peace, and the great harmes and perils that been in warre, and said to hem in a goodly manner: how that hem ought haue great repentaunce of the iniurie and wrong that they had done to Melibeus her lord, and vnto her & to her doughter.
And when they heard the goodly words of Dame Prudence, they were so surprised and rauished, and had so great joy of hir, yt wonder was to tell.
Ah lady (said they) yee haue shewed vnto vs the blessing of sweetnesse, after ye saying of Dauid the Prophet. For the reconsiling which we be not worthy to haue in no mannere. But we ought require it with great contrition & humility, that ye of your goodnesse haue presented vnto vs. Now see we wel, yt the science and cunning of Salomon is full true, for he saith: * That sweet words multiply & encrease friends, & maketh shrewes to be debonaire and meeke.
Certes (said they) wee put our deed & all our matter & cause, all wholly in your good will, and been ready to obey at ye commaundement of our lord Melibeus. And therefore deere and benigne lady: wee pray & beseech you as meekely as we can and may, that it like vnto your great goodnesse to fulfill indeed your goodly wordes. For wee consider and know, that wee haue offended and greeued our lord Melibeus out of measure, so ferforth, that wee be not of power to make him amends. And therefore wee oblige & bind vs and our friends, for to do all at his will and commaundement: but peraduenture he hath such heauinesse and such wrath to vs ward, because of our offence, that he woll enjoyne vs such a paine, as wee mowe not beare ne sustaine. And therefore noble ladie, wee beseech your womanly pitty to take such aduisement in this neede, that wee ne our friends be not disherited ne destroied, through our folly.
Certes (said Prudence) it is an hard thing and right perilious, that a man put him all vtterly in arbitration and iudgement, & in the might and power of his enemie: For Salomon sayth: Leueth me, and yeueth credence to yt I shal say: * Ne yeueth neuer ye power ne gouernaunce of thy goods, to thy sonne, to thy wife, to thy friend, ne to thy brother: ne yeue thou neuer might ne mastry ouer thy body while thou liuest. Now sith he defendeth that a man should not yeue to his brother ne to his friend, the might of his body: By a stronger reason he defendeth & forbiddeth a man to yeue himself to his enemy. And nathelesse, I counsaile you that yee mistrust not my lord: for I wot well & know verely, that he is debonaire and meeke, large, courteous, & nothing desirous ne couetous of goods ne riches. For there is nothing in this world that he desireth, saue onely worship and honour. Furthermore I know, and am right sure, yt he shall nothing doe in this need, without my counsaile: and I shall so werke in this case, yt by the grace of our Lord God, ye shall be reconciled vnto vs.
Then said they with one voice, worshipfull lady, we put vs & our goods al fully in your will & disposition, and been ready to come, what day that it liketh vnto your noblesse to limit vs or assigne vs for to make our obligation & bond, as strong as it liketh vnto your goodnesse, that we mow fulfill ye will of you and of my lord Melibe.
When dame Prudence had herd ye answer of these men, she bad hem goe ayen priuely, and she returned to her lord Melibe, & told him how she found his aduersaries full repentaunt, knowledging full lowly her sinnes & trespas, and how they were ready to suffer all paine, requiring and praying him of mercy and pitie.
Then said Melibe, * He is well worthy to haue pardon and foryeuenesse of his sinne, that excuseth not his sinne, but knowledgeth and repenteth him asking indulgence. For Seneke saith, * There is the remission & foryeuenesse, where as ye confession is: for confessionis neighbour to innocence. And therfore I assent & confirme me to haue peace, but it [Page 140] is good that we do nought without ye assent and will of our friends.
Then was Prudence right glad and ioyfull and said: Certes sir, ye haue well & goodly answerd: for right as by ye counsell, assent, and help of your friends, yee haue bee steered to venge you and make war: Right so without her counsaile shall ye not accord you, ne haue peace with your aduersaries. For the law saith: * There is nothing so good by way of kind, as a thing to be vnbound by him yt it was ibound.
Then dame Prudence, without delay or tarying, sent anone her messenger for her kinsfolke and her olde friendes, which that were true and wise: and told hem by order, in ye presence of Melibe, all the matter, as it is aboue expressed & declared. And praised hem that they would say their aduise and counsaile, what best were to doe in this need. And when Melibeus friends had taken her aduise and deliberation of the foresaid matter, and had examined it by great businesse and dilligence. They yaue full counsaile for to haue peace and rest, & that Melibe should receiue with good hert his aduersaries to foryeuenes and mercy.
And when dame Prudence had herd ye assent of her lord Melibe, and the counsaile of his friends accord with her will and her entention, she was wondrously glad in her hart, and saied: There is an old Prouerbe (saied she) * That the goodnesse that thou maist do this day, doe it, and abide it not, ne delay it not till the next day. And therefore I counsayle, that yee send your messengers, such as be discreet and wise vnto your aduersaries: telling hem on your behalfe, yt if they woll treate of peace and accord, that they shape hem without delay or tarrying, to come vnto vs: which thing perfourmed was indeed. And when these trespassours and repenting folke of her follies, that is to say, the aduersaries of Melibeus, had heard what these messengers saied vnto hem, they were right gladde and joyfull, and answered full meekely and benignely, yeelding grace and thankes to her lord Melibeus, and to all his companie: and shope hem without delay to goe with the messengers, and obeyed ye commaundement of her lord Melibeus. And right anone they tooke her way to the court of Melibe, and tooke with hem some of their true friendes, to make faith for hem, & for to be her borowes: And when they were comen to the presence of Melibe, he said to hem these words: It stondeth thus, said Melibe, and sooth it is, that causelesse and without skill and reason, ye haue done great iniuries and wrong to me and my wife Prudence, & to my doughter also, for ye haue entred into my house by violence, & haue done such outrage, that all men know well that ye haue deserued death. And therefore woll I know & we [...]e of you, whether ye wol put ye punishing and ye chastising and the vengeaunce of this outrage, in the will of me and of my wife, or ye woll not.
Then the wisest of hem three answerd for hem all, & said. Sir (said he) we know wel that we been unworthy to come to the court of so great a lorde & so worthy as ye be, for we haue so greatly mistaken vs and haue offended and agilted in such wise againe your high lordship, that truely we haue deserued the death, but yet for the great goodnesse & debonairte, that all the worlde witnesseth of your person, wee submit vs to the excellence and benignite of your gracious lordship, and been ready to obey to all your commandements, beseeching you, yt of your mercifull pite ye woll consider our great repentaunce & lowe submision, & graunt vs forgiuenesse of our outragious trespasse & offence: For well we know, that your liberall grace and mercie stretcheth further into the goodnes, than doen outragious gilt and trespasses into the wickednesse. All bee it that cursedly and damnably we haue agilted against your hie lordship.
THan Melibe tooke hem vp fro ye ground full benignly, and receiued her obligations and her bondes, by her others vpon her pledges and borowes, and assigned hem a certain day to returne vnto his court for to receiue and accept sentence & judgement, that Melibeus would command to be done on hem, by the causes aforesayd, which things ordained, euery man returned to his house.
And when dame Prudence saw her time, she fained and asked her lorde Belibe, what vengeance hee thought good on his aduersaries.
To which Melibe answerd, and said: Certes (said hee) I think and purpose mee fully to disherite hem of all that euer they haue, and for to put them in exile for euer.
Certes said Dame Prudence, this were a cruell sentence, and much ayenst reason. For ye be rich inough, and haue no neede of other mens riches. And ye might lightly in this wise get you a couetous name, which is a vicious thing, & ought to be eschewed of euery good man. For after the saying of the Apostle, * Couetise is root of all harmes. And therfore it were better to you to lese so much good of your owne, than for to take of their good in this maner. * For better it is to lese good with worship, than to winne good with villanie and shame. And euery man ought to do his diligence and his businesse, to get him a good name. And yet shall hee not onely busie him in keeping his good name, but he shall also enforce him alway to doe some thing, by which he may renew his good name. For it is written, * That ye olde good lose of a man or good name, is soone gone and past when it is not renued. And as touching yt yee say, that yee woll exile your aduersaries: that thinketh me much ayenst reason, and out of measure, considering the power that they [Page 141] haue yaue you vpon them selfe. And it is written: * That he is worthy to lose his priuiledge, that misuseth the might and power that is giuen him. And set case, ye might enjoyne hem that paine by right and law, which I trowe ye may not do: I say yee might not put it to execution, for peraduenture then it were like to turne to the warre, as it was before. And therefore if yee woll that men doe your obeisaunce, ye must demeane you more cuteously, yt is to say: Ye must yeue most easie sentences and iudgement. For it is written: * He yt most courteously commandeth, to him men must obey. And therefore I pray you, that in this necessitie and in this need ye cast ye to ouercome your heart. For as Senek saith, * Hee yt ouercommeth his heart, ouercommeth twise. And Tullie saith: * There is nothing so commendable in a great lord, as when he is debonaire and meek, & appeaseth him lightly. And I pray you that ye woll now forbeare to do vengeaunce in such a manner, yt your good name may be kept and conserued, and that men may haue cause and matter to praise you of pite and mercy: and yt ye haue no cause to repent you of thing that is done. For Seneke saieth: * He ouercommeth in an euill maner, yt repenteth him of his victory. Wherefore I pray let mercy be in your hert, to the effect, & entent, that God almightie haue mercy vpon you in his last iudgment. For saint Iames saith in his Epistle: * Iudgement without mercy shall be doe to him, yt hath no mercy of another wight.
When Melibe had heard the great skilles and reasons of dame Prudence, and her wise informations and teachings, his heart gan encline to ye will of his wife: considering her true entent, confirmed him anon & assented fully to worke after her counsaile: and thanked God, of whom proceedeth all goodnesse and vertue, that him had sent a wife of so great discretion. And when the day came that his aduersaries should appeare in his presence, hee spake to hem goodly, and said in this wise,
All be it so that of your pride and high presumption and follie, and of your negligence and vnconning, yee haue misborne you, and trespassed vnto mee, yet for as mikell as I see and behold your great humilitie and that ye be sory and repentant of your giltes, it constraineth mee to doe you grace and mercy: Wherefore I receiue you to my grace, and foryeue you holy all the offences, iniuries, & wronges, that yee haue doen ayenst mee and mine, to theffect and ende, that God of his endles mercie woll at the time of our dying foryeue vs our giltes, that we haue trespassed to him in this wretched world. For doubtlesse if we be sory and repentant for the sinnes and giltes, which we haue trespassed in the sight of our Lorde God: hee is so free and so merciable, that he woll foryeue vs our giltes, and bring vs to the blisse that neuer shall haue end. Amen.
¶The Monkes Prologue.
¶The Monkes Tale.
A Tragical Discourse of such as haue fallen from high estate to extream misery.
Lucifer.
Adam.
Sampson.
Of Hercules.
Nabuchodonosor.
Balthaser.
Zenobia.
Nero.
Holofernes.
Antiochus.
Alexander.
Iulius Cesar.
Cresus.
Peter of Spaine.
Petro King of Cipre.
Barnabo Vicount.
Hugeline of Pise.
¶Here stinteth the Knight the Monke of his Tale, and here followeth the Prologue of the Nonnes Priest.
¶The Nonnes Priest his Tale.
Of a Cock and a Hen: the Moral whereof is to embrace true Friends, and to beware of Flatterers.
¶The Manciples Prologue.
¶The Manciples Tale.
Phoebus keepeth a white Crow, which can speak as a Jay: The Crow accuseth his wife, of whom he was too jelous, to have played false in his absence. Hereupon with an arrow he slayeth his wife: but after repenting of his rashness, he taketh revenge of the Crow.
¶The Plowmans Prologue.
¶The Plowmans Tale.
A complaint against the Pride and Covetousness of the Clergy: made no doubt by Chaucer with the rest of his Tales. For I have seen it in written hand in John Stowes Library, in a Book of such Antiquity, as seemeth to have been written near to Chaucer's time.
¶The Parsons Prologue.
¶The Parsons Tale.
A Sermon against divers grievous Sins, and remedies for the same, persuading men to penitence.
OVR sweet Lord God of Heaven, that no man woll perish, but woll that we turne all to the knoweledge of him, and to the blisfull life that is perdurable, admonisheth us by the Prophet Ieremie, that sayeth in this wise: * Stondeth upon the wayes, and seeth and asketh of old pathes: that is to saie, of olde sentences, which is the good way, and walketh in that way, and yee shall finde refreshing for your soules, &c. Many been the wayes espirituels that leade folke to our Lord Iesu Christ, and to the reigne of glory: Of which wayes, there is a full noble way, and full covenable, which may not faile to man ne to woman, that through sinne hath misgone fro the right way of Hierusalem celestiall: and this way is called penitence, of which, manne should gladly hearken and enquire with all his hert, to wete, what is penitence, and which is called penitence, and how many manners been of actions or werkinges of penitence, and how manie speces there been of penitence, and which thinges appertain and behoove to penitence, and which thinges distourbe penitence.
Saint Ambrose saith, * That penitence is the plaining of man for the guilt that he hath done, and no more to do any thing for which him ought to playne. And some Doctours sayth, Penitence is the waymenting of man that sorroweth for his sume, and paineth him self, for he hath misdone. Penitence with certain circumstaunces, is very repentance of a man that holt himself in sorrow, & other paine for his guiltes: and for he shall be very penitent, he shall first bewaile sinnes that hee hath done, and stedfastly purpose in his heart to have shrift of mouth, and to do satisfaction, and never to doe thing, for which him ought more bewayle or complaine, and continue in good works: or els his repentaunce may not availe. For as Saint Isiodor saith, * He is a yaper and a lyer, and no very repentaunt, [Page 170] yt e [...]tsoone doth thing, for which him ought repent. Weeping, and not for to stint to doe sinne, may not auaile: But nathelesse, men shall hope, that at euery time that man falleth, bee it neuer so oft, that hee may arise through pennaunce, if he haue grace: but certaine, it is great doubt, for as saith saint Gregorie: * Vnnethes ariseth he out of sin, yt is charged with y• charge of euill vsage. * And therefore repentaunt folke, that stint for to sinne, and leue sinne or sinne leaue them, holy Church holdeth them siker of their saluation. * And he that sinneth, & verely repenteth him in his last end: holy Church yet hopeth his saluation, by the great mercy of our Lord Iesus Christ, for his repentaunce: but take the siker way.
And now sith I haue declared you, what thing is Penitence: now ye shall vnderstond, that there beene three actions of Penitence. The first is, that a manne be baptised after that he hath sinned. Saint Augustine sayth, * But he be penitent for his old sinnefull life, hee may not biginne the new cleane life: For certes, if he be baptised without penitence of his old guilt, he retaineth ye marke of baptisme, but not ye grace, ne ye remission of his sins, till hee haue very repentaunce. Another default is this, yt men doe deadly sinne after that they haue receiued baptisme. The third default is this, yt men fall in veniall sinnes after her baptisme, fro day to day. Thereof sayeth Saint Augustine, * That penitence of good and humble folk, is the penitence of euery day.
The speces of penitence ben three: That one of hem is solemne, another is commune, and the third is priuie. That pennaunce yt is solemne, is in two manners: As to be put out of holy church in lent, for slaughter of children, & such manner thing. Another is when a man hath sinned openly, of which sinne the fame is openly spoken in the country: & then holy church by judgement distrayneth him for to do open pennaunce.
Common pennaunce is, yt priests enioyn men in certaine case: as for to go perauenture naked in pilgrimage, or bare foot. Priuie pennaunce is that, yt men doe all day for priuie sins, of which we shriue vs priuily, and receiue priuie pennaunce.
Now shalt thou vnderstond what is behoueful & necessary to very perfit penitence: & this stont on three things. * Contrition of hart, confession of mouth, & satisfaction. For which sayth saint Iohn Chrisostome: * Penitence disstraineth a man to accept benignely every paine y• him is enioined, with contrition of hert, & shrift of mouth, with satisfaction: & in werking of all manner humility. And this is fruitfull penitence ayenst three things, in which wee wrath our Lord Iesus Christ: this is to say, By delite in thinking, by retchlesse in speaking, and by wicked sinfull werking. And ayenst these wicked guilts is penitence, that may be likened vnto a tree:
* The root of this tree is contrition, y• hideth him in the heart of him that is very repentaunt, right as the root of the tree hideth him in the earth. Of this roote of contrition springeth a stalke, that bereth braunches and leaues of confession, and fruit of satisfaction. For which Christ sayth in his gospell: * Doth digne fruite of penitence, for by this fruite men may knowe the tree, and not by the root that is hid in the heart of manne, ne by the braunches, ne the leaues of confession. And therefore our lord Iesu Christ saith thus: By the fruit of hem shall ye knowe hem. Of this root also springeth a seede of grace, the which seed is mother of all sikernesse, & this seed is eager & hote. The grace of this seed springeth of God, through remembraunce on y• day of doome, and on the paines of hell. Of this matter saith Salomon, * That in ye drede of God man forletteth his sinne. The heat of this seed is ye loue of God, and the desiring of the joy perdurable: This heat draweth the heart of man to God, & doth him hate his sinne: For soothly there is nothing that sauoureth so wel to a child, as ye milke of his nurce, ne nothing is to him more abhominable than that milke, when it is meddled with other meate. Right so the sinfull man y• loueth his sinne, him seemeth, that it is to him most sweete of any thing: but fro yt time hee loueth sadly our lord Iesu Christ, and desireth ye life perdurable, there is to him nothing more abhominable: for soothly, The law of God is ye loue of God. For which Dauid the prophet sayth: I haue loued thy law, and hated wickednesse: He that loueth God, keepeth his lawe & his word.
This tree saw the Prophet Daniel in spirit, on ye vision of Nabuchodonosor, when he counsayled him to doe penitence. Pennaunce is the tree of life, to hem that it receyue: & he that holdeth him in very penitence, is blessed, after the sentence of Salomon. In this penitence or contrition, man shall vnderstond foure things, that is to say: What is contrition, and which beene ye causes that moove a man to contrition, & how hee should be contrite, and what contrition auayleth to the soule. Then is it thus, that contrition is y• very sorrow yt a man receiueth in his heart for his sinnes, with sad purpose to shriue him, and to doe pennaunce, & neuer more to doe sinne: And this sorrow shal be in this manner, as sayeth Saint Bernard, * It shall be heauie and greeuous, and full sharpe & poinant in heart.
First, for a man hath agilted his Lord & his Creator, and more sharpe and poinaunt, for he hath agilted his father celestiall: And yet more sharpe and poynaunt, for hee hath wrathed and agilted him that boughte him, that with his precious bloud hath deliuered vs fro the bondes of sinne, and fro ye cruelte of the deuill, and from the paines of hell.
The causes yt ought moue a man to contricion bene fixe. First, a man shall remembre [Page 171] him of his sinnes, But loke that that remembraunce ne bee to him no delite, by no waye, but greate shame and sorowe for his sinnes. For Iob sayth, sinfull men done werkes worthie of confession. And therefore sayeth Ezechiell: * I woll remember me all ye yeres of my life, in the bitternesse of my herte. And God saieth in the Apocalipse: Remember ye from whence that ye been fall, for before that time that ye sinned, ye were children of God, and limmes of the reigne of God: But for your sinne ye ben waren thral and foule, & membres of ye fende: hate of Angels, slaunder of holye churche, and foode of the false Serpent, perpetuall matter of the fire of hell: And yet more foule and abhominable, for ye trespasse so oft times, as doeth an hounde that returneth ayen to eate his owne spewing: & yet be ye fouler, for your long continuing in sinne, and your sinfull vsage, for which ye bee roted in your sinne, as a beeste in his donge. Suche manner of thoughtes make a manne to have shame of his sinne, & no delite. As God saith, by ye Prophet Ezechiel: * Ye shall remembre you of your ways, and they shull displese you sothly. Sinnes ben the waies that lede folke to Hell.
THe second cause that ought make a man to have disdaine of sinne is this, that as saith saint Peter: * Who so doth sinne, is thrall of sinne, and sinne putteth a manne in great thraldome. And therefore saieth the prophet Ezechiell: * I went sorrowfull, in disdaine of my selfe. Certes, well ought a man have disdaine of sinne, and withdrawe him fro that thraldome and villany. And lo, wt saieth Seneke in this matter, he saith thus: * Though I wist, that neither God ne manne should neuer know it, yet would I have disdaine for to doe sinne. And the same Seneke also sayeth: * I am borne to greater thinge, than to be thrall to my body, or for to make of my body a thrall. Ne a fouler thrall may no man ne woman make of his bodie, than for to yeue his body to sinne, all were it the foulest churle, or the foulest woman that liueth, and least of value, yet is he then more foule, and more in seruitude. Euer fro the higher degree yt man falleth, the more is he thrall, and more to God and to the world vile and abhominable. O good God, well ought man have great disdaine of sinne, sith yt through sinne, there hee was free, he is made bond. And therefore saieth saint Augustine: * If thou hast disdaine of thy seruaunt, if hee offend or sinne, have thou then disdaine, that thou thy selfe shouldest do sinne. Take regard of thine own value, that thou ne bee too foule to thy selfe. Alas, well ought they then have disdaine to bee seruaunts and thralles to sinne, and sore to be ashamed of themself, that God of his endlesse goodnesse hath sette in high estate, or yeue hem witte, strength of bodye, heale, beautie, or prosperitie, and bought hem fro the death with his hert blood, that they so vnkindly ayenst his gentlenesse, quite him so villanously, to slaughter of her owne soules. Oh good God, ye women that been of great beautie, remembreth you on the prouerbe of Salomon, * He saieth he likeneth a faire woman, that is a foole of her bodie, to a ring of gold that were worne on the groine of a sow: For right as a sowe wroteth in euery ordure, so wroteth she her beautie in stinking ordure of sinne.
THe third cause that ought meue a man to contrition, is dread of the day of doome, and of the horrible pains of hell. For as saint Ierome sayeth: * At euery time that me remembreth of the day of doome, I quake: For when I eate and drinke, or what so that I do, euer seemeth me y• the trompe sowneth in mine eare: Riseth ye vp that been ded, and cometh to the judgement. O good God, muche ought a manne to drede such a judgment, there as we shall be all, * as Saint Poule sayeth, before the seat of oure Lorde Iesu Christ, whereas he shal make a generall congregation, whereas no man may bee absent, for certes there auaileth none essoyne ne excusation, and not onely, that our defaults shall be judged, but also that all our werkes shall openly be knowne. And as sayeth saint Bernard, * There ne shall no pleading auaile, ne no sleight: We shall yeue reckoning of euerie idle word. There shall we haue a judge that may not bee deceiued ne corrupt, and why? For certes, all our thoughts been discouered, as to him: ne for prayer ne for mede, he shall not be corrupt. And therefore saith Salomon: * The wrath of God ne woll not spare no wight, for prayer ne for yeft. And therefore at the day of doome there is no hope to escape. Wherfore, as saith saint Anselme: * Full great anguish shall ye sinnefull folke haue at yt time: There shall ye fiers & wroth iudge sitte aboue, and vnder him the horrible pitte of hell open, to destroy him yt must be knowe his sinnes, which sinnes openly beene shewed before God & before euery creature: And on the left side, mo Diuels than anie heart may thinke, for to hale and drawe the sinfull soules to the paine of hell: and within the hearts of folke shall be the biting conscience, and without forth shall bee the world all brenning: whither shall then the wretched sinful man flie to hide him? Certes he may not hide him, he must come forth and shewe him. For certes, as saith S. Ierom, the earth shall cast him out of it, and the see also, and y• ayre that shall be ful of thonder clappes and lightnings. Now sothly, who so well remembreth him of these thinges, I gesse that his sinne shall not turne him in delite, but to great sorrowe, for drede of the paine of hell. And therefore saith Iob to God: * suffer lord yt I may a while bewaile and wepe, er I goe without returning to the darke londe, couered with the derkenesse of death, to the londe of misese and of derkenesse, whereas is the shadowe of [Page 172] death, where as there is none order or ordinaunce, but fearfull drede that ever shall last. Lo, here may you see, that Iob prayed respite a while, to bewepe and waile his trespasse: For sothely one day of respite is better than all the treasure of this world. And for as much as a man may acquite himselfe before god by penitence in this world, & not by treasure, therefore should he pray to God to yeue him respite a while, to bewepe & waile his trespasse: for certes, all the sorow that a man might make fro y• beginning of the world, nis but a little thing, at regarde of the sorrow of hell. The cause why that Iob calleth hell the londe of derkenesse, understondeth that he calleth it londe or earth, for it is stable and never shall faile, & derke: For he that is in hell hath defaute of light materiall, for certes the derke light that shall come out of the fire that ever shall brenne, shall turn him all to pain ye is in hell, for it sheweth him to the horrible Diuels that him turmenteth, covered with ye derkenesse of death, that is to say, * That hee that is in hell, shall have defaut of ye sight of God: for certes the sight of god is ye life perdurable. The derknes of death, been y• sins that ye wretched man hath don, which that disturb him to see ye face of God, right as the derke cloud betwixt us and y• sunne. Londe of misese, because yt there been three maner of defautes ayenst three things that folke of this world have in this present life, that is to say: honours, delices, & richesse. Ayenst honour have they in hell shame and confusion: For well ye wote, that men call honour ye reverence y• man doth to man, but in hell is none honour ne reverence. For certes no more reverence shal be do there to a king, than to a knave. For which God sayth by the Prophet Ieremie: Those folke that me dispise, shal be in dispite. Honour is also called great lordeship: there shall no wight serve other: but of harme and turment. Honour is also called great dignitie and highnesse, but in hell shall they be all fortroden of divels. As God saith: the horrible Devils shall goe and come upon the heddes of damned folke: and this is, for as much as the higher that they were in this present life, y• more shall they be abated and defoiled in hell. Ayenste the richesse of this world shall they have misese of poverte, that shall be in four thinges. In defaut of treasure. Of which David saith: * The rich folk that embrace & knit all her hert to treasour of this world, shall sleep in the sleeping of death, and nothing ne shull they find in her hondes of all her tresour. And moreover, ye misease of hell shall be in defaut of meat and drinke. For God sayeth thus by Moyses: * They shall bee wasted with hunger, and the byrdes of hell shall devour hem with bitter death, and ye gall of the Dragon shall be her drinke, and y• venum of the Dragon her morsels. Also her misease shall be in defaut of clothing, for they shall be naked in bodie, as of clothing, saue the fire in which they brenne, and other filthes: and naked shall they be of soule, of all manner vertues, which that is ye clothing of the soule, Where been than the gay robes, ye soft shetes, and ye small sherts? Lo, what sayth God of hem by the Prophet Esaie, * That under hem shall bee strewed moughtes, and her covertures shall bee of worms of hell. Also her misease shall be in defaut of friends, for he is not poor ye hath good frends: but ther is no frend, for neither God ne no creature shall be frend to hem, and ech of hem shall hate other with deadly hate: The sonnes and the doughters shall rebell ayenst father and mother, and kinred ayenst kinred, chide, and dispise each other, both day and night, as God sayeth by the prophet Micheas: * And y• loving children that whilom loved so fleshly ech other, would ech of hem eat other if they might. * For how should they love together in the paines of hell, when they hated eche other in prosperity of this life? for trust well, her fleshly love was deedly hate. As saith y• Prophet David: Whoso that loveth wickednesse, he hateth his soul, and who so hateth his own soul, certes he may love none other wight in no maner: And therefore in hel is no solace ne no frendship, but ever ye more kinredes that ben in hell, y• more cursinges, the more chidinges, and ye more deadly hate there is among hem. Also they shall have defaut of all manner delices, for certes delices ben after the appetites of ye five wittes: As sight, hearing, smelling, favouring, and touching. But in Hell her sight shall be full of derkenesse and of smoke, & therefore full of teares, and her hearing full of wailing and grinting of teeth: As saith Iesu Christ. Her nosthrilles shall bee full of stinking. And, as saith Esay ye Prophet: Her savouring shall be full of bitter gall, & as touching of all her bodies, icovered with fire, that never shall quench, and with wormes that never shall die. As God sayth by y• mouth of Esay: and for as much as they shall not wene that they may die for pain, and by death flye fro pain, that they may understond in the wordes of Iob, that saieth: There is the shadow of death. Certes a shadow hath likenesse of the thing of which it is shadowed, but shadow is not the same thing of which it is shadowed: right so fareth the pain of Hell, it is like death, for ye horrible anguish. And why? For it paineth hem ever as though they shold die anon, but certes they shall not die. For as saith saint Greg. * To wretched caitiffes shall be death without death, and end without end, and defaut without fayling, for her death shall alway live, and her end shall ever more begin, and her defaut shall not faile.
And therefore sayth saint Iohn the Evangelist, * They shall follow death, & they shall not find him, and they shall desire to die, and death shall flie from hem. And also Iob saith, That in hell is no order or rule. And all be it so, y• God hath create all thing in right order, and nothing without order, but all things [Page 173] been ordred and numbred, yet nathelesse they that been dampned been nothing in order, ne hold none order, for ye earth ne shall bere hem no fruit. For, as the Prophet David sayth: God shall destroy ye fruit of the earth, as for hem, ne water, ne shall yeve hem no moisture, ne the ayre no refreshing, ne fire no light. For as saith saint Basilie: * The brenning of y• fire of this world shall God yeve in hell to hem that been dampned, but ye light and the clearnesse shall he yeve in Heaven to his children: right as good men yeve flesh to her children, and bones to her hounds. And for they shall have none hope to escape, sayeth sainct Iob at last, * That there shall terrour & gresly drede dwell without end. Horrour is alway drede that is to come, & this drede shall alway dwell in the hearts of hem that bee dampned. And therfore have they lost all her hope for seven causes. First, for God that is her judge shall be without mercy to hem, and they may not please him, ne none of his saints, ne they may not yeve nothing for her raunsome, ne they shall have no voice to speake to him, ne they may not fly fro pain, ne they have no goodnesse in hem yt they may shew to deliver hem fro pain. And therefore saith Salomon: * The wicked man dyeth, and when he is dead, he shall have no hope to escape fro paine. Who so then would well understond the paines, and bethinke him well that hee hath deserved those paines for his sinnes, certes he should have more talent to sighe and weepe, than for to singe and playe. For as saith Salomon, * Who so that had ye science to know the paines that ben ordained for sinne, he would make sorowe. That science, as saith Saint Austin, maketh a man to weiment in his heart.
THE fourth pointe that oughte make a man have contrition, is the sorowfull remembraunce of the good that hee hath left to doe heare in earthe, and also the good that he hath lost. Sothly the good werkes that hee hath lefte, either they be the good werkes that hee wrought er hee fell in deadly sinne, or else y• good werkes that hee wrought while hee laie in sinne. Sothly the good werkes that he did before that he fell in sinne, been all mortified, astoned, & dull by oft sinning. The werkes that hee did while hee lay in sin, he dead, as to ye life perdurable in heaven: then the good werkes that been mortified by oft sinning, which he did being in charite, may not quick ayen without very penitence. And of it sayth God by the mouth of Ezechiel: * If ye rightfull man retourn ayen fro his rightwisenesse and do wickednes, shall he live? nay, for all y• good werkes that hee hath do, ne shall neuer be in remembrance, for he shall die in his sinne. And upon y• chapter sayth saint Gregory thus, that wee shall understond this principally: * If y• we done deadly sinne, it is for nought then to rehearse or draw into memory the good werkes that wee have wrought before: for certes in the werking of deadly sinne, there is no trust ta no good werke yt we have doen before, that is to say, as for to have thereby the life perdurable in Heaven. But nathelesse, ye good werks quicken and come againe, and helpe and availe to have the life perdurable in Heaven, when we have contricion: but soothly y• good werkes that men don while they be in deedly sinne, for as much as they were doen in deedly sinne, they may never quicke: For certes, thing that never had life, may never quick: And nathelesse, albeit that they avail not to have the life perdurable, yet availe they to abredge of y• pain of hell, or els to get temporall richesses, or els that God woll y• rather enlumine or light the heart of y• sinfull man to have repentaunce, and eke they availe for to use a manne to do good werkes, that the feende have the lesse power of his soul. And thus the curteis Lord Iesu Christ, ne woll that no good work bee loste, for in somewhat it shall availe. But for as much as the good werkes that menne doen while they been in good life, been all amortised by sinne following: and also sithe that all ye good werkes that men doon while they bee in dedly sinne, been utterly dead, as for to have the life perdurable, well may that manne that no good werke ne doeth, sing that new fresh song (lay tout pardu mon temps, et mon labure.) * For certes sinne bereaveth a man both goodnesse of nature, & also the goodnesse of grace. For soothly the grace of the holy ghost, fareth like fire that may not be idle, for fire faileth anon as it foreletteth his werking: and right so grace fayleth anon, as it foreletteth his werking. Then leseth the sinfull man the goodnesse of glory, that only is beheight to good men that labour and werk. Well may he be sory then, that oweth all his life to God, as long as he hath lived, and also as long as he shall live, that no goodnesse ne hath to paie with his debt to God, to whom he oweth all his life: * for trust well he shall yeve accompts as sayth Saint Bernard, of all the goodes that have been yeve him in this present life, and how he hath hem dispended, in so much that there shall not perishe an heere of his hedde, ne a moment of an houre ne shall not perishe of his time, that hee ne shall yeve of it a reckoning.
THE fifthe thinge that ought to moove a man to contricion, is remembraunce of the passion that our Lorde Iesu Christ suffered for our sinnes. For as saieth saint Bernarde, * While that I live, I shall have remembraunce of the travailes, that our Lord Iesu Christ suffered in preaching, his wearinesse in travailing, his temptations when he fasted, his long wakings when he praied, his veares when that he wept for pite of good people: the woe, ye shame, and the filthe that men said to him: of the foule spitting that menne spitte in his face, of the buffettes that [Page 174] men yave him: of the foule mowes & of the reproves that men said to him: of the nailes with which hee was nailed to the crosse, and of all ye remnaunt of his passion, that he suffred for my sinnes, and nothing for his gilte.
And ye shall understond, yt in mans sinne is every manner order or ordinance, tourned up so doune. For it is soth, yt God, reason, sensualite, and the bodie of man, been ordained that eche of these four things should have lordship over that other: as thus, God should have lordship over reason, and reason over sensualite, and sensualite over the body of man. But sothly when man sinneth, all this order or ordinance, is turned up so doun. And therefore then, for as moche as reason of man, ne woll not be subject ne obeysaunt to God, that is his Lord by right, therefore leseth it the worship that it should have over sensualite, and also over the bodie of manne. And why? For sensualite rebelleth than ayenst reason: and by that way leeseth reason the lordship over sensualite, and over the body: For right as reason is rebell to God, right so is both sensualite rebell to reason, and to the body also. And certes this disordinaunce & this rebellion, our Lord Iesu Christ bought upon his precious body full deere: and herkeneth in what wise. * For as much then as reason is rebell to God, therefore is man worthy to have sorow, and to be dede. This suffred our Lord Iesu Christ for manne, after that he had be betraied of his disciple, & distrained and bound, so that his blood brast out at every naile of his hondes, as saith S. Augustin. And ferthermore, for as much as reason of manne, woll not daunt sensualite, when it may, therefore is manne worthy to have shame: and this suffered our Lord Iesu Christ for man, when they spit in his visage. And ferthermore, for as muche then as the caitiffe body of man, is rebell both to reason & to sensualite, therefore it is worthy death: & this suffered our Lord Iesu Christ upon ye Crosse, whereas there was no part of his body free, without great paine and bitter passion: & all this suffred our Lord Iesu Christ that never forfaited. And therefore reasonably may be said of Iesu in this maner: To much am I pained, for things that I never deserved: and to much defouled for shame that man is worthy to have. And therefore may the sinfull man well say, as sayth saint Bernard: * Accursed be the bitternesse of my sinne, for whiche there must bee suffered so much bitternesse. For certes, after the divers discordance of our wickednesse, was the passion of Iesu Christ ordained in divers things, as thus: Certes sinfull mannes soul is betraied of the Divell, by covetise of temporall prosperite, and scorned by deceit, when that he cheseth fleshly delices, and yet it is turmented by impatience of adversity, and bespet by servage and subjection of sinne, and at the last it is slain finally. For this disordinaunce of sinfull man, was Iesus Christ first betraid, and after that was hee bound, that came for to unbind us of sinne and of paine. Then was he bescorned, that only should have bee honoured in all things. Then was his visage that ought be desired to bee seen of all mankind (in which visage Angels desire to look) villainously bespet. Then was he scourged that nothing had trespassed, and finally, then was he crucified & slain. Then was accomplished the words of Esaie: * He was wounded for our misdeeds, and defoiled for our felonies. Now sith that Iesu Christ took on him the pain of all our wickednesses, moche ought sinfull man wepe and bewaile, that for his sinnes, Gods sonne of Heaven should all this pain endure.
THE Sixt thing that should meve a man to contricion, is the hope of thre things, that is to say: forye venesse of sinne, and the gift of grace for to doe well, and the glory of Heaven with whiche God shall rewarde manne for his good deeds: And for as much as Iesu Christ, yeveth us these gifts of his largenesse, and of his Sovereigne bountie, therefore is hee called (Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iudeorum) Iesus is to say, saviour or salvation, on whom men shal hope to have foryevenesse of sinnes, which that is properly salvation of sinnes. And therefore sayd the Angell to Ioseph, Thou shalt call his name Iesus, that shall save his people of her sinnes. And hereof saith Saint Peter: * There is none other name under Heaven, that is yeve to any man, by which a man may be saved, but onely Iesus. Nazarenus is as much for to say, as flourishing, in which a man shall hope that hee that yeveth him remission of sinnes, shall yeve him also grace well for to doe. * I was at the doore of thine herte, sayth Iesus, and called for to enter: He that openeth to me, shall have foryevenesse of his sinne. I woll enter into him by my grace, and sup with him by the good werkes that hee shall doe, which werkes been the food of the soule, and he shall suppe with me, by the great joye that I shall yeve him. Thus shall man hope for his werkes of penaunce, that GOD shall yeve him his reign, as he behight him in the Gospell. Now shall a man understonde, in which manner shall be his contricion: I say, that it shall be universall and totall, this is to say: a man shall be very repentant for all his sinnes that hee hath dooen in delite of his thought, for it is right perillous.
For there been two manner of consentings that one of hem is called consenting of affection, when a man is moved to do sin, and then deliteth him longe, for to think on that sinne, & his reason apperceiveth it wel, that it is sinne ayenst the Law of God, and yet his reason refraineth not his foule delite on talent, though he see well apertly, yt it is ayenst the reverence of God, although his reason consent not to do yt sinne indeed: yet say some Doctours, that soche delite that [Page 175] dwelleth longe is full perillous, albeit never so little. And also a man should sorrow, namely for all that ever he hath desired ayenst the Law of God, with perfite consenting of his reason, for thereof is no doubte, that it is deadly sinne in consenting: for certes there is no deadly sinne, but that it is first in mans thought, and after that in his delite, and so forth into consenting, and into deed. Wherfore I say that many men, ne repent hem never of such thoughts and delices, ne never shrive hem of it, but only of the deed of great sinnes outward: wherefore, I say that soche wicked delites been subtill begilers of hem that shall be dampned.
Moreover, man ought to sorowe for his wicked words, as well as for his wicked deeds: for certes the repentance of a singuler sinne, and not repentant of all his other sins: or else repent him of all his other sinnes, and not of a singuler sinne, may not availe: * For certes GOD almighty is all good, and therefore, either he foryeveth all, or else right nought. And therefore saith saint Augustin: I wote certainly, that God is enemy to every sinner: and how then hee that observeth one sinne, shall hee have foryevenesse of those other sinnes? Nay. And moreover, contricion should bee wonder sorowfull and anguishous: and therefore yeveth him God plainly his mercy: and therefore when my soul was anguished, and sorowful within me, then had I remembrance of God, yt my prayer might come to him. Ferthermore, contricion must be continuall, and that manne have stedfast purpose to shrive him, and to amend him of his life. For sothly while contricion lasteth, man may ever hope to have foryevenes. And of this cometh hate of sinne, that destroyeth both sinne in himself, and also in other folke at his power. For which saith David: * They that love God, hate wickednesse: For to love GOD, is for to love that he loveth, and hate that he hateth. The last thing yt men shall understand is this, Wherefore availeth contrition? I say, yt contricion sometime delivereth man fro sinne: Of which David saith, I say (said David) I purposed firmely to shrive me, and thou Lord releasedest my sin. And right so as contricion availeth not without sad purpose of shrift, if man have oppertunity, right so little worth is shrift or satisfaction without contrition. And moreover contricion destroyeth the prison of hell, and maketh weak and feeble all the strengths of the Devils, and restoreth the yeftes of the holy Ghost, and of all good vertues, and it cleanseth the soule of sinne, and delivereth it fro the paine of hell, and fro the company of the Devill, and fro the servage of sinne, and restoreth it to all goods spirituals, and to the company and communion of holy Church. Ferthermore, it maketh him that whilome was sonne of yre, to be the sonne of Grace: And all these things been prooved by holy writ. And therefore he that would set his entent to these things, he were full wise: for truly he ne should have then in all his life courage to sinne, but yeve his heart and body to serve Christ, and thereof doe him homage. For truly our Lord hath spared us so meekly in our foilies, that if he ne had pity of mans soule, a sorry song might we all sing.
THE second part of penitence is Confession, that is a signe of contricion. Now shull yee understond what is Confession, and it ought needs bee doen or no: and which thinges be covenable to very confession.
First shalt thou understonde, that confession is very shewing of sinnes to the Priest: this is to say very, for hee must confesse him of all the conditions that belong to his sin, as ferforthe as hee can: all must bee sayed, and nothing excused ne hid, * And not avaunt thee of thy good werkes. Also it is necessarie to understonde whence that sinnes springe, and howe they entere, and which they beene.
Of the spring of sins, saith Saint Poule in this wise: * That right as by one man sinne entred first into this world, and through sin death, right so the death entreth into all men that sinne: and this man was Adam, by whom sin entred into this world, when he broke the commandment of God. And therfore he that first was so mighty, that hee ne shuld have died, became so that he must needs die, whether he would or no, and all his progenie in this world, that in the sayed man sinned. Look that in the estate of innocency, when Adam and Eve were naked in Paradise, and shamed not hereof, how the serpent, wilyest of all other beasis y• GOD made, said to the woman: Why commanded God you, that ye should not eate of every tree in Paradise: The woman answered: Of the fruit said she of trees of Paradise we feed us, but of the fruit of the middle tree of Paradise God forbode us to eate and touch, least wee should die. The Serpent sayd to the woman: Nay, nay, ye shall not die of death, for sooth God wotte, that what day that ye eate thereof your eyen shall open, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good & harme. The woman then saw that the tree was good to feeding, and fair to the eyen, and delectable to sight, she took of the fruit of the tree and did eat, and yave to her husbond, and he eat, and anon the eyen of hem both opened: & when that they knewe that they were naked, they sowed of Figg leaves in manner of breches, to hide her members. There may ye see That deadly sin hath first suggestion of the sende, as sheweth here by the Adder: and afterward the delight of the flesh, as sheweth by Eve, & after that, consenting of reason, as sheweth here by Adam. For trust well, though so it [Page 176] were, that the fende tempted Eve, that is to say, the flesh, and the flesh had delight in the beauty of the fruit defended: yet certes till that reason, that is to say, Adam consented to the eating of the fruit, yet stoode hee in the state of innocency. Of the sayd Adam tooke wee the sayd originall sinne, for of him fleshly discended bee wee all, and engendred of vile and corrupt matter: And when the soule is put in our bodies, right anon is contract originall sinne, and that that was erst, but onely pain of concupiscence, is afterward both paine and sinne: and therefore wee been all borne sonnes of wrath, and of dampnation perdurable, if it nere Baptisme that wee receive, which benimmeth us the coulpe: but forsoth the pine dwelleth with us as to temptation, which pine hight concupiscence. This concupiscence when it is wrongfully disposed or ordained in man, it maketh him covet by covetise of flesh, fleshly sin by sight of his eyen, as to yerthly thinges, and also covetise of highnesse by pride of heart.
Now as to speake of the first covetise, that is concupiscence, after the law of our members, that were lawfully made, and by rightfull judgment of God, I say, * For as much as man is not obeisant to God, that is his Lorde, therefore is the flesh to him disobeisaunt through concupiscence, whiche is called nourishing of sinne, and occasion of sinne. Therefore, all the while that a manne hath within him the pine of concupiscence, it is impossible, but he bee tempted sometime, and moved in his flesh to sin. And this thing may not faile as long as he liveth. It may well wax feeble by vertue of Baptisme, and by the grace of God through penitence, but fully ne shall it never quench, that hee ne shall sometime be mooved in himself, but if he were all refrained by sicknesse, or by malice of sorcery, or cold drinks. For lo, what saith S. Poule: the flesh coveteth ayenst the spirite, and the spirite ayenst the flesh: they been so contrary and so striven, that a manne may not alway do as he would. The same S. Poule, after his great Pennance, in water and in lond: in water by night and by day, in great peril, and in great paine: in londe, famine and thurst, cold and clothlesse, and ones stoned almost to death: Yet (said he) alas, I caitiffe manne, who shall deliver me fro the prison of my caitiffe body? And saint Ierom, when hee long time had dwelled in desert, whereas hee had no company but of wilde beastes, where as hee had no meate, but herbes, and water to drinke, ne no bed, but the naked earth, wherefore his flesh was blacke, as an Ethyopian for heat, and nie destroyed for cold: Yet (said he) that the brenning of lechery boyled in all his body. Wherefore I wot well that they bee deceived that say, they be not tempted in her bodies. Witnes S. Iames that saith, * That every wight is tempted in his owne conscience, y• is to say: That ech of us hath matter and occasion, to be tempted of the norishing of sinne, that is in his body. And therfore saith saint Iohn the Evangelist: If wee say that we been without sinne, wee deceive our selfe, and truth is not in us. Now shall ye understond, how sin waxeth and increaseth in man. The first thing is the same nourishing of sinne, of which I spake before, the fleshly concupiscence: and after that, commeth suggestion of the Devill, this is to say, ye Devils belous, with which he bloweth in man, the fire of concupisence: & after that, a man bethinketh him whether hee woll doe or no that thing to which he is tempted. And then if a man withstond and weive the first intising of his flesh, and of the fiend, then it is no sinne: and if so be he doe not, then feeleth he anon a flame of delight, and then it is good to beware and keep him well, or els he woll fall anone to consenting of sinne, and then woll he do it, if hee may have time and place. And of this matter sayth Moyses by the Devill, in this manner: The fiend sayth, I woll chace and pursue man by wicked suggestion, and I woll take him by mooving and [...]irring of sinne, and I woll depart my prise of my preie by deliberation, and my lust shall be accomplished in delight, I woll draw my swerd in consenting. For certes, right as a swerde departeth a thing in two peeces, right so consenting departeth God fro manne, and then woll I slea him with my honde in deede of sinne: thus sayth the fiend. For certes, then is a man all dead in soule, and thus is sinne accomplished with temptation, by delite and consenting: and then is the sin actuall. Forsooth sinne is in two maners, either it is veniall, or deadly sin. * Sothly, when man loveth any creature, more than Iesu Christ our Creatour, then it is deadly sin: and veniall sin it is, if a man love Iesu Christ lesse than him ought. Forsooth the deed of this veniall sin is full perillous, for it minisheth the love that man should have to God, more & more. And therefore if a man charge himselfe with many such veniall sins, certes, but if so be yt he sometime discharge him of hem by shrift, they may full lightly minish in him all the love that he hath to Iesu Christ: and in this wise skippeth veniall sinne into deadly sinne. For certes, the more that a man chargeth his soule with veniall sinnes, the more hee is enclined to fall into deadly sin. And therefore let us not be negligent, to charge us of veniall sinnes. For the Proverb saith, * That many small make a great. Hearken this ensample: A great wave of the sea commeth sometime with so great a violence, yt it drouneth the shippe. And the same harme dooth sometime the small drops of water, that entereth through a little creveis into the timber, and into the bottom of the ship, if men be so negligent, that they discharge hem not by times. And therefore although there be a difference betwixt these two causes of drowning, algates the ship is drouned. Right so fareth it sometime of deadly sin, and of annoious veniall [Page 177] sinnes, when they multiplie in man so greatly, that those worldly thinges that hee loueth, through which hee sinneth venially, is as great in his heart as ye loue of God, or more: & therefore the loue of euery thing yt is not beset in God, ne done principally for Gods sake, although that a man loue it lesse than God, yet is it veniall sinne; and deadly sin, when the loue of any thing weigheth in the heart of man, as much as ye loue of God, or more. Deadly sinne, as saith saint Augustine, is, * When a man turneth his heart fro God, whiche that is very soueraigne bounty, that may not chaunge, and yeueth his heart to thing that may chaunge and flit: and certes, that is euerie thing saue God of heauen. For sooth is, yt if a man yeue his loue, which that he oweth to God with all his heart, vnto a creature, certes, as much of loue as he yeueth to the same creature, so muche he bireaueth fro God, and therefore doth he sinne: for he that is debitour to God, ne yeldeth not to God all his debt, yt is to say, all the loue of his heart. Nowe sith man vnderstondeth generallye which is veniall sinne, then it is couenable to tell specially of sin, which that many a man, peraduenture, deemeth hem no sinnes, and shriueth him not of the same things, and yet nathelesse they be sins soothly, as these Clerkes write, this is to say: * At euery tyme that manne eateth or drinketh more than sufficeth to the sustenance of his body, in certain he doth sinne: and also when he speaketh more than it needeth, it is sinne.
Also when he hearkeneth not benignely the complainte of the poore: Also when hee is in heale of bodie, and woll not fast when other folk fast, without cause reasonable: Also when he sleepeth more than needeth, or when he cometh perchance to late to the Church, or to other werkes of charitie: Also when he vseth his wife without soueraigne desire of engendrure, to the honour of God, or for the entent to yeeld to his wife debte of his bodie. Also when he woll not visite the sicke, or the prisoner, if he may. Also if he loue wife or child, or other worldly thing, more than reason requireth. Also if he flatter or blandise more than him ought for any necessitie. Also if he minish or withdrawe the almose of the poore. Also if he apparaile his meat more deliciously than need is, or eat too hastily by lickorousnes. Also, if he talke vanities at Church, or at Gods seruice, or that he be a talker of idle words, of folly or villanie, for he shall yeeld accompts of it at the day of doome. Also, when hee behighteth or assureth to doe thinges that hee maie not perfourme. Also, when that hee by lightnesse or folly, missayeth or scorneth his neighbour. Also, when he hath any wicked suspection of thing, that hee ne wote of sothfastnesse. These things and mo without number be sinnes, as sayth S. Augustine. Nowe shall men vnderstonde, that all be it so that none earthly manne may eschewe all veniall sins, yet may he refrain hem, by the brenning loue that he hath to our Lord Iesu Christ, and by prayers and confession, and other good workes, so that it shall be but little grief. For as saith S. Augustine: * If a man loue God in such manner, that all that euer he doth is the loue of God, or for the loue of God verily, for he brenneth in the loue of God: looke how much that one droppe of water, which doth fall into a great furnace full of fire, annoieth or greueth the brenning of the fire: in like manner annoieth or greueth a venial sin, vnto that man which is stedfast and perfite in the loue of our Sauiour Iesu Christ. Ferthermore, men may also refraine and put awaie veniall sinne, by commening and receiuing worthely ye body of our Sauiour Iesu Christ. Also, by taking of holy water, by almosedeed, by generall confession of Confite or at Masse, and at Complin, and by blessings of Bishops and Priests, and by other good workes.
De septem peccatis mortalibus, & de eorum dependentiis, circumstantiis, & speciebus.
NOw it is expedient to tell whiche been the seauen deadly sinnes, that is to say, chiefetaines of sinnes. All they ren in o lees, but in diuers manners.
Now been they called seauen sinnes, for as much as they bee chiefe, and springe of all other sinnes. Of the roote of these seauen sins, then is Pride the generall root of all harms. For of this roote springeth certaine braunches: as Ire, Enuie, Accidie or Slouth, Auarice or Couetise, (to common vnderstonding) Gluttonie, and Lecherie: and each of these chief sinnes haue her braunches and twigs, as it shall bee declared in her Chapiters following. And though so bee that no manne can vtterly tell the number of twigges, and of the harmes that come of Pride, yet woll I shew a part of hem, as ye shall vnderstond. There is inobedience, auaunting, ipocrisie, dispite, errogance, impudence, swelling of hert, insolence, elation, impatience, strife, contumacie, presumption, irreuerence, pertinacie, vaineglorie, and many other twigs that I cannot declare. Inobedience, is he that disobeyeth for dispite, the commaundements of God, to his soueraignes, and to his ghostly father. Auaunter, is he that boasteth of the harme or of the bounty y• he hath done. Ipocrite, is he that hideth to shew him such as he is, and sheweth him to seme such as he is not. Dispitous, is he that hath disdain of his neibour, that is to saie, of his euin Christen, or hath dispite to do that him ought to do. Errogance, is hee that thinketh that hee hath those bounties in him that hee hath not, or weneth that hee shoulde haue hem by his deserts, or else that he deemeth, he is that he is not. Impudent, is he that for his pride, hath no shame of his pride ne sinne. Swelling of heart, is when man rejoyceth him of harme [Page 178] that he hath done. Insolence, is he that dispiseth in his judgement all other folke, as in regarde of his value, of his cunning, of his speaking, and of his bering. Elation, is when hee ne may neither suffer to haue maister ne fellowe. Impatience, is he that woll not be taught, ne rebuked of his vice, and by strife denyeth truth wittingly, and defendeth his folly. Contumacie, is he that through his indignation, is ayenst euerie aucthoritie or power of hem y• been his Soueraines. Presumption, is when a manne vndertaketh an emprise that him ought not to do, or els that he may not doe, and this is called surquidie. Irreuerence, is when man doth not honour there as him ought to do, and looke to be reuerenced. Pertinacie, is when men defende her folly, and trust too much on her own wit. Vaineglorie, is for to haue pomp, & delight in his temporall highnesse, and glorye him in worldly estates. Iangling, is when men speak too muche before folke, and clappeth as a mill, and take no keepe what they say.
And yet there is a priuie spece of pride, that waiteth first to bee salewed, or he woll salew, all be he lesse worthye than that other is. And also he waiteth or desireth to sit, or else to go aboue him in the way, or kisse paxe, to be encenced, or go to offring before his neighbour, and suche semblable thinges, ayenst his duetie peraduenture, but that hee hath his heart and his entent in suche a proude desire to be magnified and honoured before the people.
Now ben there two maner of prides. One of hem is within the heart of a man, and that other is without. Of whiche foresayd things soothly, and mo than I haue sayd, appertaine to pride, that is in the heart of man, and other speces of pride been without: but nathelesse, that one of these speces of pride, is signe of that other, right as the gaye leuesell at the Tauerne, is signe of the wine that is in the Seller. And this is in many thinges: as in speeche and countenaunce, and outragious arraye of clothing: for certes, if there had ben no sinne in clothing, Christ would not so sone haue noted and spoken of the clothing of the rich menne in the Gospell. And as S. Greg. saith, * That precious cloathing is culpable for the dearth of it, and for his softnesse, and for his straungenesse and disguising: and for the superfluitie, or for the inordinate scantnes of it. Alas, may not a man see as in our daies, the sinnefull costlewe arraie of clothing, and namely in too much superfluitie, or else in too disordinate scantnesse.
As to the firste sin in superfluity of cloathinge, suche that maketh it so deare, to the harme of the people, not onely the coste of enbroudering, the disguised endenting, or barring, ounding, paling, winding, or bending, and semblable wast of cloth in vanitie: but there is also the costlewe Furring in her gounes, so much pounsing of chesell to make holes, so muche dagging of Sheres, with the superfluitie in length of the foresaide gounes, trayling in ye dong and in ye myre, on horse and also on foot, as well of manne as of woman: that all that trayling is verely (as in effect) wasted, consumed, thredbare, and rotten with doung, rather than it is yeue to the poore, to great dammage of the foresaid pore folke, and that in sundrie wise: this is to say, that the more the cloth is wasted, the more must it cost to the poore people for the scarcenesse. And moreouer, if so be that they would yeue suche pounsed and dagged clothing to the poore people, it is not conuenient to were for her estate, ne sufficient to her necessitie, to keepe hem fro the distemperaunce of the firmament. Vpon that other side, to speake of the horrible disordinate scantnesse of clothing, as been these cutted sloppes or hanselines, that through her shortenesse couer not the shameful members of man, to wicked entent. Alas, some of hem shew the bosse of her shape, and the horrible swole members that semeth like the maladie of Hernia, in the wrapping of her hosen, and also the buttocks of hem fare as it were the hinder parte of a she Ape in the full of the moone. And moreouer the wretched swoln members that they shew throughe disguising, in departing of her hosen, in white and redde, seemeth that half her shamefull priuy members were flaine. And if so be that they departe her hosen in other colours, as is white and blewe, or white and blacke, or blacke & redde, and so forth: Then seemeth it as by variaunce of colour that the halfe part of her priue members ben corrupt by the fire of saint Anthonie, or by canker, or other suche mischaunce. Of the hinder parte of the buttockes it is full horrible for to see, for certes in that partie of her bodie there as they purge her stinking ordure, that foul partie shew they to the people proudly in dispite of honestie, which honestie that Iesu Christe and his freends obserued to shew in her life. Now as to the outragious arraie of women, God wot, yt though the visages of some of hem seem full chast and debonaire, yet notifie in her aray or attire, licorousnes and pride: I say not that honestie in clothing of man or woman is vncouenable, but certes the superfluitie of disordinate quantitie of clothing is reprouable. Also the sinne of ornament or of apparaile, is in things that appertaine to riding, as in companie, delicate horses that ben holden for delight, y• been so faire, fatte, and costlewe, and also in many a nice knaue, that is sustained because of hem, in curious harneis, as in saddles, cropers, peitrels, and bridles couered with precious clothing, and rich barres of plates of gould and of siluer. For which God saith by Zacharie the Prophet, I woll confounde the riders of suche horses. These folke take little regarde of ye riding of Goddes sonne of heauen, and of his harneis, when he rode vpon the Asse, and had none other harneis but the poore clothes of his disciples [Page 179] ne we read not that euer hee rode on other beest. I speak this for ye sinne of superfluitie, and not for reasonable honeste, when reason it requireth. And moreouer, certes pride is greatly notified in holding of great meine, when they been of little profite or of right no profite, & namely when that meine is felonous and dammageous to the people by hardinesse of high lordship, or by way of offices. For certes, such Lordes sell then her lordshippe to the Deuil of Hell, when they sustain the wickednesse of her meine. Or else, when these folke of low degree, as those that keep hostleries, susteine thefte of her hostellers, and that is in many manner of deceits: those maner of folk been ye flyes that follow the honie, or else the hounds that follow the caraine. Suche foresayde folke strangle spirituelly her lordeships: For suche, thus saith David the Prophet: * Wicked death might come on those lordeshippes, and God yeve that they might descend into hell, all downe, all downe: For in her houses been iniquities and shrewdnesse, and not God of heaven. And certes, till they done amendment, right as God yaue his blessing to Pharao by the seruice of Ioseph, and to Laban by the seruice of Iacob: Right to God will yeue his curse to such lordeshippes as sustaine the wickednesse of her seruaunts, but they come to amendment. Pride of the table appeareth also full oft: for certes, riche menne bee called to feasts, and poore folke been put away and rebuked. And also in excesse of diuers meates and drinkes, and namely such manner bake meates and dishe meates brenning of wilde fire, peinted and castelled with paper and semblable wast, so that it is abusion to think. And also in too great preciousnesse of vessell, and curiositie of minstralcie, by which a man is sterred more to delices of lecherye, if so bee that he sette his hearte the lesse vppon oure Lord Iesu Christ, certainely it is a sinne. And certainely the delices myght bee so great in this case, that a manne might lightly fall by hem into deadly sinne. The especes that sourde of pride, soothly when they sourde of malice imagined, auysed, and forecaste, or els of vsage, ben deadly sinne, it is no doubt. And when they sourde by freelte vnauised sodenly, and sodaynely withdraw ayen, all be they greuous sinnes, I gesse that they be not deadly. Nowe might menne aske, whereof that pride sourdeth and springeth. I say that somtime it springeth of ye goods of nature, sometime of the goodes of fortune, and sometime of the goodes of grace. Certes the goodes of nature stondeth onely in goodes of bodye, or goodes of the soule. Certes, goodes of body ben hele of body, strength, deliuernesse, beauty, gentrie, franchise. Goodes of nature of the soule, ben good with sharpe vnderstonding, subtill engine, vertue naturall, good memory. Goodes of fortune, be riches, hie degrees of lordships, praysinges of the people. Goodes of grace, ben science, power to suffice spirituell trauaile, benigne, vertuous contemplation, vnderstonding of temptation, and semblable thinges: of which foresayd goods, certes it is a full great folly, a manne to haue pride in any of hem all. Now, as for to speak of goods of nature, God wote that sometime we haue hem in nature as much to our damage as to our profite. As to speake of hele of body, truely it passeth full lightly, and also it is full oft occasion of sicknesse of the soul: for God wote, * The flesh is a great enemy to the soul: and therfore the more that the body is whole, the more we be in peril to fall. Also for to haue pride in his strength of body, it is an hie folly: for certes ye flesh coueteth ayenst the spirite: and the more strong that the flesh is, the sorrier may the soule be. And ouer all, this strength of body and worldly hardinesse causeth full ofte many man to perill & mischaunce. And also to have pride of gentry, is right great folly: * For oft time the gentry of the body taketh away the gentry of the soule: and also we been all of o father and mother: & all we ben of o nature, rotten and corrupt, both rich and poore. Forsooth o manner gentry is for to praise, that apparelleth mannes courage: wit, vertue, and morality, maketh him Christs child. * For trust well, That ouer what man that sinne hath maystry, he is a very churle to sinne.
Now been there generall signes of gentlenesse: as eschewing of vice and ribaudrye, and seruage of sinne: in word, in werke, and continuance & vsing of vertue, courtesie, and cleanenesse, and to bee liberall: that is to say, large by measure: for that that passeth measure, is folly and sin: Another is to remember him of bounty, that he of other folk hath receiued: Another is to be benigne to his good subjects. Wherefore saith Senecke: * There is nothing more couenable to a manne of high estate, than debonairtie and pity. And therefore these flies that men call bees, when they make her king, they chese one that hath no pricke wherewith he may sting.
Another is, manne to haue a noble heart and a dilligent, to attaine to the high vertuous things. Now certes, a manne to haue pride in y• goods of grace, is also an outragious folly: for those gifts of grace that should haue tourned him to goodnesse, and to medicine, tourneth him to venome and confusion, as saith saint Gregorie. Certes also, who so hath pride in the goodnesse of fortune, he is a full great foole: For sometime is a manne a great lord by the morne, that is a caitiffe and a wretche or it bee night: and sometime the riches of a man is cause of his death. Sometime the delices of a manne is cause of greeuous maladie, through which he dieth. Certes, the commendation of ye people is sometime full false and brotell for to trust. This day they praise, to morrow they blame. God wote, desire to haue commendation of the [Page 180] people, hath caused death to manie a busie manne. Now sith that so is, that yee have vnderstond what is pride, and which bee the speces of it, and whence it sourdeth & springeth: now yee shall vnderstond which is the remedie ayenst it. Humility or meekenesse is the remedy ayenst pride, that is a vertue, thorow which a manne hath very knowledge of himselfe, and holdeth of himselfe nor price ne daintie, as in regard of his desertes, considering euer his freelte. Now been there three manner of humilities: As humility in heart, another humility is in mouth, and the third is in works. The humility in hert is in foure manners: That one is, when a man holdeth himselfe as nought worth before God of heauen. The second is, when he despiseth none other man. The third is, when hee ne recketh nat though men holde him nought worth. And the fourth is, when he is not sorry of his humiliation. Also the humility of mouth is in four things. In a temperate speech, in humility of speech, & when he confesseth with his own mouth, that he is such as him thinketh that he is in his heart: Another is, when he praiseth the bounty of another man & nothing thereof minisheth. Humilitie also in werke, is in four maners. The first is, when he putteth other men before him, the second is, to these the lowest place ouer al, the third is, gladly to assent to good counsail, the fourth is, to stond gladly to the award of his souereigns, or of him that is in hier degre: Certain this is great werke of humilitie.
AFter pride woll I speak of the foul sin of Enuye, which that is after the worde of the Philosopher, sorowe of other mens prosperitie. And after the worde of Saint Augustine: * It is the sorow of other mens weal, and the ioy of other mens harme. This foule sinne is platly ayenst the holy Ghost: All be it so, that euerie sinne is ayenst the holy Ghoste, Yet nathelesse, for as much as bountie appertaineth properly to the holy Ghost, and Enuy cometh properly of malice, therefore it is properly ayenst the bountie of the holye Ghost. Now hath malice two speces, that is to say, hardnes of hart in wickednes, or else the flesh of a manne is so blind, that he considreth not that he is in sinne, or recketh not that he is in sinne, which is the hardinesse of the Diuell. That other spece of Enuie is, when that a man dennieth trouth, when he knoweth that it is trouth, and also when he repenteth the grace that god hath yeue to his neighbour: and all this is by Enuie. Certes, then is Enuie the worst sin that is, for soothly all other sins be sometime onely ayenst a special vertue: but certes, enuy is ayenst all vertues and all goodnesse. For it is sory ayenst all the bounties of her neighbour, and in this manner it is diuers from all other sins. Alas: * For there ne is any sin that it ne hath some delight in it self, saue only Enuy, that euer hath in it self anguish & sorrow. The speces of Enuy ben these: there is first sorrow of other mennes goodnesse and of her prosperitie, and prosperitie is kindly matter of joy: Then is enuy a sinne ayenst kind. The second spece of Enuy, is ioy of other mennes harme, and that is properly like to ye Diuell, that euer reioyseth him of mannes harme. Of these two backbiting or detracting hath certain speces, as thus: Some manne praiseth his neighbor by a wicked entent, for he maketh alway a wicked knot at the last end: alway he maketh a but at the last end, that is digne of more blame, than is worth all the praising. The second spece is, that if a man be good, or doth or sayth a thing to good intent, ye backbiter woll turn all that goodnesse vp so doun, to his shrewd entent. The third is, to amonish the bountie of his Neyghbour. The fourth spece of backbiting is this, that if menne speak goodnesse of a manne, then wol the backbiter say: Perfay such a manne is yet better than he, in dispraising of him that menne prayse. The fifth spece is this, for to consent gladly and herk gladly to the harm that men speak of other folk: This sinne is full great, & aye encreaseth after the wicked entent of ye backbiter. After backbiting commeth grutching or murmuration, and sometime it springeth of impatience ayenst God, and sometime ayenst manne. Ayenst God it is when a man grutcheth ayenst ye pain of hel, or ayenst pouertie, or losse of cattel, or ayenst rain or tempest, or els grutcheth that shrews haue prosperitie, or else for that good menne haue aduersitie: and all these things should menne suffer patiently, for they come by the rightful judgment and ordinaunce of God. Sometime cometh grutching of auarice, as Iudas grutched ayenst Maudelein, when she annointed the head of our Lord Iesu Christ with her precious oyntment. This manner murmuring is such as when man grutcheth of goodnesse that himself doth, or that other folk doen of her own cattel. Sometime cometh murmure of pride, as when Simon the Pharisee grutched ayenst Maudelein when she approched to Iesu Christ and wept at his feet for her sins. And sometime it sourdeth of Enuie, when men discouer a mans harm that was priuy, or beareth him on hond thing that is false. Murmure also is ofte among servaunts that grutch when her souereigns bid hem do lefull thinges, and for as much as they dare not openly withsaye the commaundment of her souereigns, yet wol they say harme and grutche and murmure priuely for very spight: which words they call the diuels Pater noster, though so be that the diuel had neuer Pater noster, but that lewd [Page 181] folke yeueth it such a name. Sometime it cometh of yre or priuie hate, that norisheth rancour in ye heart, as afterward I shall declare. Then cometh also bitternesse of heart, thorow which bitternesse, euery good deed of his neighbor semeth to him bitter and unsauery. Then cometh discord yt vnbindeth all maner of friendship. Then commeth scorning of his neighbour, all doe he neuer so well. Then commeth accusing, as when a man seeketh occasion to annoy his neighbor, which is like the craft of the diuel, that waiteth both daye and night to accuse vs all. Then cometh malignity, through which a manne annoieth his neighbour priuily if he may, and if he maye not, algate his wicked will shall not let, as for to brenne his house priuily, or enpoison or s [...]ea his beastes, and semblable things. Now woll I speak of the remedie ayenst this foul sin of enuie. First is the loue of God principally, and louing of his neighbour as himselfe: for soothly that one ne may not be without that other. And trust well that in the name of thy neighbour thou shalt understand the name of thy brother, for certes all we haue one father fleshly, and one mother, that is to say, Adam and Eue: and also one father spirituel, that is God of heauen. Thy neighbor art thou bound for to loue, and will him all goodnesse, and therefore sayth God: Loue thy neighbor as thy self, that is to say, to saluation both of life and soul. And moreouer thou shalt loue him in word and in benig [...]e admonishing and chastising, and comfort him in his noyaunces, and praye for him withal thy heart. And in deede thou shalt loue him in such wise that thou shalt do to him in charitie, as thou woldest that it were don to thine own person: and therefore thou ne shalt do him no damage in wicked worde, ne harm in his body, ne in his cattel, ne in his soul, by entising of wicked ensample. Thou shalt not desire his wife, ne none of his things. Vnderstond also that in the name of neighbour, is comprehended his enemy: Certes man shal loue his enemy by the commandment of god, and soothly thy friend thou shalt loue in God. I say thine enemy, shalt thou loue for Gods sake, by his commandment: for if it were reason that man should hate his enemy, forsoth God nold not receiue vs to his loue that been his enemyes. Ayenst three manner of wrongs that his enemy doth to him, he shall do three things as thus: ayenst hate and rancour of heart, he shall loue him in heart: Ayenst chiding & wicked words, he shall pray for his enemy: Ayenst wicked deeds, he shal do him bounty. For Christ sayth: Loue your enemies, & pray for hem that speke you harm, and for hem that chase & pursue you: and do bounty to hem that hate you. Lo, thus commaundeth vs our Lord Iesu Christ to do to our enemies: forsooth nature driueth vs to loue our freends, & perfay our enemies haue more need of loue than our freends, & they that more need haue, certes to hem shall men do goodnesse. And certes in that deed haue we remembraunce of the loue of Iesus Christe y• died for his enemies: And in as much as that loue is more greuous to perfourm, so much is the more great the merit, and therfore the louing of our enemy hath confounded the diuels venim: * For right as the deuil is confounded by humilitie, right so is he wounded to the death by the loue of our enemie: certes then is loue the medicine that casteth out the venim of enuie fro mans heart. The speces of this place shall be more largely declared in her chapters following.
AFter Enuy woll I discriue the sinne of Ire: for soothly who so hath Enuy upon his Neighbour, anon he woll commonly find him a matter of wrath in word or in deed, ayenst him to whom he hath Enuie: And as well commeth Ire of Pride as of Enuie, for soothly he that is proud or enuious is lightly wroth.
This sin of Ire, after the disriuing of S. Austin, is wicked will to be auenged by word or by deed. * Ire, after the Philosopher, is the feruent blood of man iquicked in his heart, through which he would harm to him that he hateth: for certes the hart of man by eschausing and moouing of his blood, waxeth so troubled, yt it is out of all manner iudgment of reason. But ye shall vnderstond that * Ire is in two manners, that one of hem is good, & that other is wicked. The good ire is by jealousie of goodnes through which a man is wroth with wickednesse, and ayenst wickednesse. And therefore saith a wise man, that yre is bet than play. This ire is with debonairte, and it is wrath without bitternesse: not wroth ayenst the man, but wroth with the misdeed of the manne. As saith the Prophet Dauid: Irascimini, & nolite peccare. Now understond that wicked Ire is in two manners, that is to say, sodain yre or hasty yre without auisement & consenting of reason: The meaning and the sence of this is, that ye reason of a manne ne consent not to that sodain yre, and then it is venial. Another yre is ful wicked, that cometh of felony of heart, auised and cast before with wicked will to do vengeaunce, & thereto his reason consenteth: and soothly this is deadly sinne. This yre is so displeasant to God, yt it troubleth his house, & chaseth the holy ghost out of mans soul, and wasteth and destroyeth that likenesse of God, that is to say, ye vertue that is in mans soul, and putteth in him the likenesse of the deuill, and taketh the man fro God that is his rightful Lord. This is a ful great pleasaunce to the deuil, for it is ye deuils forance that is eschaused with y• fire of hell: For certes right so as fire is more mightie to destroy earthly things, than any other Element, [Page 182] right so ire is mightie to destroie all spiritual things. Look how that fire of small coles that been almost dead under ashen, wol reuiue or quick ayen when they ben touchen with brimstone, right so yre woll euermore quick ayen, when it is touched by the pride that is couered in mans heart. For certes fire ne may not come out of nothing, but if it were first in the same thing naturally: as fire is drawn out of flints with steele. And right so as pride is many times matter of yre, right so is rancour norice and keeper of Ire. There is a manner tree, as sayth saint Isodore, that when a man maketh a fire of the said tree, and couer the coals of it with ashen, soothly the fire of it will last a yeer or more: And right so fareth it of rancour, when it is ones conceiued in y• hearts of some men, certes it woll last peraduenture from one Easter day until another Easter day, or more. But certes the same man is full ferre from the mercie of God all that while.
In this foresaid deuils fournace there forge three shrewes: Pride, that aye bloweth and encreaseth the fire, by chiding and wicked words: Then stondeth Enuy, & holdeth hot yron in the fire vpon y• heart of man, with a payre of long tongs of long rancour: And then stondeth the sin of Contumelie or strife and cheste, and battereth and forgeth by vilainous repreuings. Certes this cursed sin annoyeth both to the man himself, and also his Neighbour. For soothly almost all the harm or damage that any man doth to his Neighbor cometh of wrath: for certes, outragious wrathe doth all that euer the foule fend willeth or commandeth him: for he ne spareth neither our Lord Iesu Christ, neither his sweet mother. And in his outragious anger and yre, alas, alas, full many and diuers at that time, feleth in his heart full wickedly, both of Christ, and also of all his hallowes: Is not this a cursed vice? Yes certes. Alas it taketh fro man his wit & his reason, and all his debonaire life spirituel, that should keep his soul. Certes it withdraweth also Goddes due lordship (& that is mans soul) and the loue of his Neighbors. It striueth also all day ayenst trouth, it reaueth him the quiet of his heart, and subverteth his soul.
Of Ire cometh these stinking engendrures, First, Hate, that is old wrath: Discord, thorow which a manne forsaketh his old friend that he hath loued full long: and then commeth War, & euery manner of wrong that a man doth to his neighbour in body or in cattel. Of this cursed sin of yre commeth also manslaughter. And understond well that homicide (that is, manslaughter) is in diuers wise.
Some manner of homicide is spirituell, and some is bodily. Spirituell manslaughter is in vi. things. First by hate, as sayth Saint Iohn: * He that hateth his brother, is an homicide. Homicide is also by backbiting, of which backbiting, sayth Salomon, that they haue two swerds, with which they slay her neighbours: * For soothly as wicked is to take fro him his good name as his life. Homicide is also in yeuing of wicked counsail by fraud, as for to yeue counsayle to areise wrongful customs and talages. Of which, sayth Salomon: * A Lion roring, & a Bear hungrie, be like to the cruel Lords, in withholding or abridging of the shepe or the hire of the wages of Seruaunts, or else in vsurie, or in withdrawing of the Alms of poore, folke. For whiche the wise manne sayeth: * Feedeth him that almost dyeth for honger, for soothly but if you feed him you slay him. And all these ben deadly sins. Bodily manslaughter is when thou sleest him with thy tongue: Another manner is, when thou commaundest to slea a man, or else yeuest counsail to slea a man. Mauslaughter indeed is in four manners. That one is by law, right as a Iustice dampueth him that his culpable to the death: But let the Iustice beware that he doe it rightfully, and that he do it not for delight to spill blood, but for keeping of rightwisenesse. Another homicide is done for necessitie, as when a man slayeth another in his defence, and that he ne may none otherwise escape, without slaughter of his aduersarie, he doth sin, and he shall bear pennaunce as for deadly sin. Also if a man by case or aduenture shoot an arrow or cast a stone, with which he slaieth a man, he is an homicide. And if a woman by negligence ouerlyeth her child in her sleeping, it is homicide & deadly sin. Also when a man disturbleth conception of a child, & maketh a woman either barren by drinking of venemous herbes, through which she may not conceiue, or slaieth a child by drinks, or else putteth certain material things in her secret places to slaie the child, or else doth unkindly sin, by which a man or woman sheddeth her nature in manner or in a place there as a child may not be conceiued. Or else if so be that a woman hath conceiued, and hurteth her self, and by that mishap the childe is slain, yet it is homicide. What say we of those women that murderen her children for because of eschewing of worldly shame? Certes, it is an horrible homicide. Homicide is also, if a manne approche to a woman by desire of letchery, thorow which ye child is perished: or els smiteth a woman wittingly, through which she leseth her child: All these been homicides, & horrible deadly sinnes. Yet come there of ire mo sinnes, as well in worde, as in thought and deede. As he that arreteth upon God, or blameth God of the thing of which he is himself guilty, or despiseth God & all his hallows, as done the cursed hasardors in diuers countries: This cursed sin done they, when they fele in her hert full wickedly of God & of his halowes. Also when they treat unreuerently the sacrament of the aulter, that sin [Page 183] is so great, y• vnneth it may be releaced, but that the mercy of God passeth all his werks, it is so great, and he so benign. Then commeth of Ire an atterly anger, when a man is sharply amonested in his shrift to leaue his sin: Then woll he be angrie, and aunswere hokerly and angerly, or defend or excuse his sin by unstedfastnesse of his fleshe, or else he did it for to hold companie with his fellows, or els he sayth the fiend enticed him, or els he doth it for his youth, or els his complexion is so courageous that he may not forbear, or els it is his destinie he sayth unto a certain age, or els he sayth it cometh him of gentlenesse of his auncestors, and semblable things. All these manner of folke so wrappe hem in her sins, that they ne woll not deliver hemself: For soothly, No wight that excuseth himself wilfully of his sinne, may not be deliuered of his sin, till that he meekly beknoweth his sin. After this then commeth swearing, that is expresse ayenste the commandment of God: & this befalleth often of Anger & of Ire. God sayeth: * Thou shalt not take the name of thy Lord God in vaine or in idle. Also our Lord Iesu Christ sayeth by the word of Saint Mathew: Ne shal ye not swere in all manner, nether by heauen, for it is Gods trone: ne by yearth, for it is the bence of his feet: ne by Hierusalem, for it is y• city of a great King: ne by thine head, for thou mayest not make an hayre neyther white ne black: but say by your word, yea, yea, nay, nay: and what that is more, it is of euil. Thus sayeth Christ. For Christs sake sweare not so sinnefully in dismembring of Christ, By soul, heart, bones, and body: for certes it seemeth, that ye thinke that the cursed Iewes ne dismembred not ynough y• precious person of Christ, but ye dismember him more. And if so be that the law compell you to swear, then ruleth you after y• law of god in your swearing, as sayeth Ieremie. iiii. cap. * Thou shalt keep three conditions, Thou shalt swear in trouth, in doome, and in rightwisenes: this is to say, thou shalt swear sooth. For euery lesing is ayenst Christ, for Christ is very trouth. * And think well this, That euery great swearer, not compelled lawfully to swear, y• plague shal not depart fro his hous, while he useth such unleful swearing. Thou shalt swear also in dome, when thou art constrained by thy doms man to witnes trouth: Also thou shalt not swear for enuie, neyther for fauour, neither for mede or reward, but only for rightwisenesse, & for declaring of it to the honour and worship of God, & to the ayding & help of thine euin Christen. And therefore euery man that taketh Gods name in idle, or falsely sweareth with his mouth, or els taketh on him the name of Christ, to be called a Christen man, & liueth ayenst Christs liuing and his teaching: all they take Gods name in idle. Look also what sayth saint Peter: Actuum iiii. capitu. Non est aliud nomen sub coelo, &c. There is none other name (sayth saint Peter) under heauen yeue to men, in which they may be saued, that is to say, but the name of Iesu Christ. Take heed eke how precious is the name of Iesu Christ, as sayth S. Poule, ad Philipenses. ii. In nomine Jesu, &c. * That in the name of Iesu euery knee of heauenly creatures, earthly, & of hell, should bow: for it is so high and so worshipful, that the cursed fiend in hell should tremble to hear it named. Then seemeth it, that men that swear so horribly by his blessed name, that they despise it more boldly than the cursed Iews, or els the diuel, that trembleth when he heareth his name.
Now certes, sith y• swearing (but if it be lawfully done) is so highly defended: much more is forswearing falsely, and yet needlesse.
What say we also of hem that delight hem in swearing, and hold it a gentery or a manly deed to swear great othes? And what of hem that of very usage ne cease not to swear great othes, all be the cause not worth a straw? Certes, this is horrible sin. Swearing suddainly is also a great sin. But let us go now to that horrible sin, swearing of adiuration and conjuration, as done these false Enchauntours or Nigromanters in Basins full of water, or in a bright swerd, in a Circle, in a fire, or in the shoulder bone of a sheep? I cannot say, but that they doe cursedly and damnably ayenst Christ, and all the faith of holy church.
What say we of hem that beleeue on Deuinales, as by flight or by noise of birds or of beasts, or by sorte, by Geomancie, by dreams, by chirking of dores, or cracking of houses, by gnawing of rats, & such manner wretchednesse? Certes, all these things been defended by God and holy church, for which they been accursed, till they come to amendment, that on such filth set her beleeue. Charms for wounds, or maladie of men, or of beasts, if they take any effect, it may be peraduenture y• God suffereth it, for folk should yeue the more faith & reuerence to his name.
Now woll I speak of leasings, which generally is false signifiaunce of word in entent, to deceiue his euin Christien. Some leasing is, of which there commeth none aduantage to no wight: and some leasing turneth to the profite and ease of a man, and to the dammage of another man. Another leasing is, for to saue his life or his cattel, which commeth of delight for to lie, in which delight, they woll forge a long tale, and paint it with all circumstances, where all the tale of the ground is false. Some leasing commeth, for he woll sustain his words: Some leasing commeth of retchlesnesse without auisement, and semblable things.
Let us now touch the vice of Flatterie, which ne cometh not gladly, but for dread, or for couetise. Flatterie is generally wrongful praising. Flatterers been the deuils nourices, [Page 184] that nourish his children with milk of losengerie: forsooth Salomon sayth, That Flatterie is worse than detraction: for sometime detraction maketh an hautein man be the more humble, for he dreadeth detraction, but certes flattery maketh a man to enhaunce his heart and his countenaunce. Flatterers be the Deuils enchauntours, for they make a man to wene himself be like that he is not like. Those be like to Iudas, that betray a man, to sell him to his Enemy. Flatterers been the deuils Chapleins, that ever sing Placebo. I reckon flattery in the vices of ire: for oft time if a man be wroth with another, then woll he flatter some wight, to sustain him in his quarrel.
Speak we now of such cursing as cometh of irous hart. Malison generally may be said, euery manner power of harm: such cursing bereaueth man fro the reign of God, as sayth S. Poule. And oft time such cursing wrongfully, returneth ayen to him that curseth, as a bird that turneth again to his own neast. * And ouer all thing, men ought eschew to curse her children, & yeue to the deuil her engendrure, as ferre forth as in hem is: certes, it is great peril & great sin.
Let us then speak of Chiding & Reproch, which beene full great woundes in mannes heart, for they unsow the seams of friendship in mans heart: For certes, Vnneth may a man plainly be accorded with him, that him openly hath reuiled and repreued, & disclaundred: This is a full ghostly sin, as Christ sayth in the Gospel. And take heed now, that he that repreueth his neighbour, either he repreueth him by some harm of pain, that hee hath upon his bodie, as Mesell, crooked, harlot, or by some sin that he doth. Now if yee repreue him by harm of pain, then turneth the repreue to Iesu Christ: for pain is send by the rightwise sond of God, & by his sufferaunce, be it meselrie, maim, or maladie: & if he repreue him uncharitably of sinne, as thou holour, thou dronkelewe harlot, & so foorth: then pertaineth that to the reioycing of the deuil, which euer hath ioy that men doen sin. And certes, chiding may not come but of villanous heart, for after the haboundance of the heart speaketh the mouth full oft. And ye shall understond, that look by any way, when any man shall chastise or correct another, that he beware from chiding or repreuing: for truly but he beware, he may ful lightly quicken the fire of anger & of wrath, which he should quench: and peraduenture, slaeth him, which he might chastise with benignity. For as saith Salomon: * The amiable tong is the tree of life, y• is to say, of life spirituel. And soothly, a dissolute tong slaeth the spirits of him that repreueth, and also of him which is repreued. Lo, what sayeth saint Augustine: * There is nothing so like the deuiis child, as he which oft chideth. A seruant of God behoueth not to chide. And though that chiding be a villanous thing betwixt all maner folk, yet it is certes most uncouenable between a man and his wife, for there is neuer rest. And therefore saieth Salomon: * An house that is uncouered & drooping, and a chiding wife, ben alike.
A man, which is in a dropping hous in many places, though he eschew the dropping in o place, it droppeth on him in another place: So fareth it by a chiding wife, if she chide him not in one place, she wol chide him in another: And therefore. * Better & greatly more pleasant is a morsel or little gobbet of bread with ioy, than an house silled full of delices with chiding and gnerring, sayeth Salomon. Saint Poule sayth: O ye women, beth ye subiect to your husbands, as you behoueth and ought in God. And ye men loue your wiues. Ad Colonicences. iii.
Afterward speak we of Scorning, which is a wicked sin, and namely, when he scorneth a man for his good werks: For certes, such scorners fare like the foul tode, that may not endure to smell the sweet sauour of the vine, when it flourisheth. These scorners been parting fellows with the deuil, for they haue ioy when the deuil winneth, and sorrow if he leseth. They been aduersaries of Iesu Christ, for they hate that he loueth, that is to say, saluation of soul.
Speak we now of wicked counsail, the which is a Traitour, for he deceiueth him that trusteth in him: Vt Achitophel ad Salomonem. But nathelesse, yet is his wicked counsail first ayenst himself: for as sayth the wise man: * Euery false liuing hath this property in himselfe, that he y• woll annoy another man, he annoyeth first himself. And men shall understond, that man shall not take his counsail of false folk, ne of angry folk, or greuous folk, ne of folk that loue specially too much worldly folk, namely, in counsailing of Souls.
Now commeth the sin of hem that sow and make discord among folk, which is a sin that Christ hateth utterly, & no wonder is: for he died for to make concord. And more shame do they to Christ, than did they that him crucified: * For God loueth better, that friendship be amongs folk, than he did his own body, which that he gaue for vnitie. Therefore ben they likened to the deuil, that euer be about to make discord. Now cometh the sin of Double tongue, such as speake fair before folk, and wickedly behind: or else they make semblaunt, as though they spake of good entention, or els in game and play, and yet they speak of wicked entent.
Now commeth bewraying of counsayle, through which a man is defamed: certes unneth may he restore the dammage. Now commeth menace, y• is an open folly: for he that oft menaceth, he threateth more than he may perform full oft time. Now commeth idle words, that is, without profite of him that [Page 185] speaketh the words, & also of him that hearkeneth the words: Or els idle wordes been those that been needlesse, or without entent of natural profite. And albeit that idle words be sometime venial sinne, yet should menne doubt hem, for we shall yeue reckoning of hem before God. Now cometh iangling, that may not be without sinne: & as sayth Salomon, It is a sign of apert folly. And therefore a Philosopher saied, when men asked him how that he should please the people, he answered: * Do many good werkes, and speak few vanities. After this cometh the sin of yaperies, that been the deuils Apes, for they make folk to laugh at her yaperie, as folk do at the gaudes of an Ape: which yapes defendeth saint Poule. Look how that vertuous words and holy, comfort hem that trauail in the seruice of Christ, right so comforteth the villainous words and knacks of yapers, hem that trauail in the seruice of the deuil. These ben the sins of the tongue, that come of ire, and of other sins.
THe remedy ayenst Ire, is a vertue that men call mansuetude, that is, Debonairtie: and also another vertue, that men clepe patience or sufferaunce.
Debonairtie withdraweth and refraineth the stirrings and moouings of mans courage in heart, in such manner, that they ne skip not out by Anger ne Ire. Sufferaunce, suffereth sweetly all the annoyances and wronges that menne done to man outward. Saint Ierome sayeth this of debonairte, That it dooth no harme to no wight, ne sayeth: ne for no harme that men doe ne say, he ne chafeth ayenst reason. This vertue sometime commeth of nature: for as sayeth the Philosopher: A manne is a quicke thinge by nature, debonaire, and treatable to goodnesse: but when debonairty is enformed of grace, then it is the more worth.
Patience is another remedy ayenst ire, & is a vertue y• suffereth sweetly euery mans goodnesse, and is not wroth for no harm that is done to him. The Philosopher sayth, That patience is the vertue that suffreth debonairly, all the outrages of aduersity, and euery wicked word. This vertue maketh a man like to God, and maketh him Gods owne childe: as sayeth Christ. This vertue discomfiteth thine enemies. And therefore sayeth the Wise man: If thou would vanquish thine enemie, learn to suffer. And thou shalt understond, that a man suffereth four manner of greeuances in outward things, ayenst the which four, he must haue four manner of patiences.
The first greeuaunce is of wicked words, which suffereth Iesus Christ, without grutching, full patiently, when the Iews despised him full oft. Suffet thou therefore patiently, for the Wiseman sayth: * If thou striue with a foole, though the fool be wroth, or though he laugh, alway thou shalt haue no reste.
That other greeuaunce outward, is to haue dommage of thy cattel: There ayenst suffered Christ full patiently, when he was despoyled of all that he had in this life, and that was but his clothes. The third greeuaunce, is a man to haue harme in his body: that suffred Christ full patiently in all his passion. The fourth greeuaunce, is in outragious labour in werks: wherefore I say, that folk that make her seruaunts to trauaile too greeuously, or out of time, as in holy days, soothly they doe great sinne. Here ayenst suffred Christ full patiently, & taught us patience, when he bare upon his blessed shoulders the crosse, upon which he should suffer despitous death. Here may men learn to be patient, for certes, not only Christen be patient for loue of Iesu Christ, and for reward of the blessed life that is perdurable, but certes the old Painems, that neuer were Christened, commended and used the vertue of patience.
* A Phylosopher upon a time, that would haue beate his disciple for his great trespace, for which he was moued, and brought a rod to beat the childe, and when this child sawe the rod, he sayd to his mayster: what think ye to do? I woll beat thee sayed the mayster for thy correction: Forsooth, sayed the child, ye ought first correct your selfe, that haue lost all your patience, for the offence of a child. Forsooth sayd the mayster all weeping, thou sayest sooth: haue thou the rodde my deare child, and correct me for mine impatience. Of patience commeth obedience, through which a man is obedient to Christ, and to all hem to which he ought be obedient in Christ. And understand well, that obedience is perfite, when that a man dooth gladly and hastely, with good heart entirely, all that he should doe. Obedience generally, is to perform the doctrine of God, and of his soueraignes, to which him ought to be obeysaunt in all rightwisenesse.
AFter the sinnes of Enuy and Ire, now woll I speake of the sinne of Accidie: tor Enuy blindeth the heart of a man, and Ire troubleth a man, & Accidie maketh him heauy, thoughtful, and pensife. Enuy & Ire maken bitternesse in heart, which birternesse is mother of Accidie, and taketh fro him the loue of all goodnes, then is accidie the anguish of trouble of heart. And S. Augustine sayth: It is annoy of goodnesse & annoy of harme. Certes this is a damnable sinne, for it dooth wrong to Iesu Christ, in as much as it benummeth the seruice y• men ought to do to [Page 186] Christ, as sayth Salomon: but Accidie doth no such diligence. He doth all thing with annoy, and with wrawnesse, slacknesse, and excusation, with idlenesse & unlust. For which the book sayth: * Accursed be he that doth the seruice of God negligently. Then is Accidie enemy to euery estate of man. For certes the estate of man is in three manners: Either it is in the estate of innocency, as was the estate of Adam, before that he fell into sin, in which estate he was hold to work, as in praising and lauding God. Another estate is the estate of sinful men: in which estate men ben holden to labour in praying to God for amendment of her sins, & that he would grant hem to rise out of her sins.
Another estate is the estate of grace, in which estate he is holden to works of penitence: and certes, to all these thinges is accidie contrary, for he loueth no businesse at all. Now certes, this foul sin accidie, is also a full great enemy to the liuelode of the body: * For it ne hath no purueiaunce ayenst temporel necessity, for it forsloweth, forslogeth, and destroieth all goods temporel by retchlesnesse.
The fourth thing is, that Accidie is like hem that been in the paine of hell, because of her sloth and heauines: for they that be damned, ben so bound, that they may neyther well doe ne think. Of accidie cometh first, that a man is annoied and encombred to do any goodnes, and maketh that God hath abhomination of such accidie, as sayth Saint Iohn.
Now commeth Sloth, that woll not suffer no hardnesse ne pennance: for soothly, s [...]oth is so tender and so delicate, as sayeth Salomon, that he woll suffer no hardnesse ne pennaunce, and therefore he marreth all that he doth. Ayenst this rotten sin of accidie and sloth, should men exercise hemselfe, and use hem to do good workes: and manly and vertuously catch courage to do, thinking that our Lord Iesu Christ quiteth euery good deed, be it neuer so lite. Vsage of labour is a great thing. For it maketh, as sayeth S. Bernard, the labourer to haue strong armes and hard senewes: and sloth maketh heeuy, feeble, and tender. Then commeth dread to beginne to worke any good workes. For certes, * He that enclineth to sin, him thinketh it is so great an emprise for to undertake the works of goodnesse, and casteth in his heart, that the circumstances of goodnesse been so greeuous and weighty for to suffer, that he dare not undertake to doe workes of goodnesse, as sayeth Saint Gregorie.
Now commeth wanhope, y• is, dispair of the mercy of God, y• commeth sometime of too much outragious sorow, & sometime of too much dread, imagining that he hath doe so much sinne, that it woll not auayle him, tho he woud repent him, and forsake sinne: through which despair or dread, he abandonneth all his heart to euery manner sinne, as sayth Saint Augustine. Which dampnable sinne, if it continue unto his end, it is called sinning in the holy ghost. This horrible sin is so perillous, that he yt is despaired, there nis no fellonie, ne no sinne, that he doubteth for to do, as sheweth well by Iudas. Certes, aboue all sinnes then is this sinne most displeasaunt to Christ, and most aduersarie.
Sothly, he yt dispaireth him, is like to the coward champion recreaunt, that flieth without need. Alas, alas, needlesse is he recreant, & needlesse despaired. Certes. * The mercy of God is euer ready to y• penitent person, & is aboue all his werks. Alas, cannot a man bethink him on y• Gospel of S. Luke .xv. Whereas Christ sayeth, * That as well shall there be ioy in heauen upon a sinful manne that doeth penitence, as upon xcix. rightful men that need no penitence. Look further in the same Gospel, the ioy & the feast of the good man that had lost his sonne, when his sonne was retourned with repentaunce to his father. Can they not remember hem also, that (as sayth Saint Luke, Chapi. xx.) How that the theefe that was hanged beside Iesu Christ, sayd: Lord remember me, when thou commest into thy reign. Forsooth said Christ, I say to thee, To day shalt thou be with me in Paradise. Certes, there is none so horrible sinne in manne, that ne may in his life be destroyed by penitence, through vertue of the passion and of the death of Christ. Alas, what need men then to be despaired, sith that his mercy is so ready and large? Ask and haue.
Then cometh Sompnolence, that is sluggie, slumbring, which maketh a man heauie, and dull in body and in soul, and this sinne commeth of sloth: And certes, the time that by way of reason man should not sleep, is by the morrow, but if there were cause reasonable. For soothly, the morrow tide is most couenable, a man to say his prayers, and for to thank God, and to honour God, and to yeue almose to the poor that commeth first in the name of Iesu Christ.
Lo, what sayeth Salomon? Who so woll by the morow awake to seek me, he shall find me. Then commeth negligence or retchlesnes that recketh of nothing. And though y• ignorance be mother of all harms, certes, negligence is the norice. Negligence ne doth no force, when he shall do a thing, whether he do it well or euil.
The remedie of these two sinnes is, as sayth the Wise man: * That he that dreadeth God, spareth not to do that he ought to do: and he that loueth God, he woll doe dilligence to please God by his werkes, and abandon himselfe, with all his might, well for to doe. Then cometh idlenesse, that is the yate of all harms. An idle manne is [Page 187] like to a place that hath no wals, the deuil may enter on euery side, or shoot at him that is discouerte, by temptation on euery side. This idlenesse is the thorruke of all wicked and villainous thoughts, and of all ordure. Certes, the heauen is yeue to hem that will labour, and not to idle folk. Also Dauid sayeth, * That they ne be not in the labour of men, ne they shall not be whipped with men, that is to say, in Purgatorie. Certes, then seemeth it they shall be tormented with the deuils in hell, but if they do pennaunce.
Then commeth the sinne that men call Tarditas, as when a man is so latered, or tarrying or he woll tourn to God: and certes, that is a great folly. He is like him that falleth in the ditch, and woll not arise. And this vice commeth of false hope, that he thinketh he shall liue long, but that hope fayleth full oft.
Then commeth Lochesse, that is, he that when he beginneth any good work, anone he woll leaue and stint it, as done they that haue any person to gouern, and ne take of him no more heed, anon as they find any contrary or any annoy. These ben the new sheepheards, that let their sheepe wittingly goe ren to the Wolfe, that is in the breres, or do not force of her own gouernaunce. Of this commeth pouerte and destruction, both of spirituel and temporel things. Then commeth a manner coldnesse, that freeseth the hart of man. Then commeth undeuotion, through which a man is so blont, and as sayeth S. Bernard, hath such langour in his soul, that he may neyther read ne sing in holy church, ne hear ne think of no deuotion, ne trauail with his honds in no good work, that it nis to him unsauory and all apalled. Then wexeth the slow and slombry, and soon woll be wroth, and soon is enclined to hate and enuy. Then commeth the sinne of worldly sorrow, such as is called Tristitia, that staeth a man, as sayth Saint Poule. For certes, such sorrow worketh the death of the soul and body also, for thereof commeth, that a man is annoyed of his own life. Wherefore such sorrow shorteth full oft the life of man, ere that his time is come, by way of kind.
AYenst this horrible sinne of Accidie, and the braunches of the same, there is a vertue yt is called Fortitudo, or strength, through which a man despiseth annoyous things: this vertue is so mightie and so rigorous, that it dare withstond mightily, and wisely keep himselfe fro perils that been wicked, and wrastle ayenst the assaults of the deuill, for it enchaunceth and enforceth the soule, right as Accidie abateth & maketh it feeble: for this fortitude may endure by long sufferaunce the trauails that ben couenable.
This vertue hath many speces, the first is called Magnanimitie, that is to say, great courage. For certes, there behoueth great courage ayenst Accidie, least that it ne swallow the soule by the sin of sorrow, or destroy it by wanhope. Certes, this vertue maketh folke undertake hard and greeuous thinges by her own will, wisely and reasonably. And for as much as the deuill fighteth ayenst a manne more by subtilty and sleight than by strength, therefore shall a man withstand him by wit, reason and discretion. Then are there the vertues of fayth, and hope in God and in his saints, to follow and accomplish the good workes, in the which he purposeth fermely to continue. Then commeth suretie or sikernesse, and that is when a manne ne doubteth no trauail in time comming, of the good workes that he hath begun. Then commeth Magnificence, that is to say, when a man doeth and performeth great works of goodnesse, that he hath begun, and that is the end why that menne should doe good workes. For in the accomplishing of good workes, lyeth the great guerdon. Then is there Constaunce, that is stablenes of courage, and this should be in heart by stedfast faith, and in mouth, in bearing, in chere, and in deed. And there been mo speciall remedies ayenst Accidie, in diuers works: as in consideration of the paines of hell, the ioyes of heauen, and in trust of the grace of the holy ghost, that will yeue him might to performe his good entent.
AFter Accidie woll I speak of Auarice, and of Couetise. Of which sin Saint Poule sayth: * The root of all harmes is Couetise. Ad Timoth .vi. For soothly, when the heart of man is confounded in it self and troubled, and that the soul hath lost the comfort of God, then seketh he an sole sollace of worldly things.
Auarice, after the description of S. Augustine, is a licorousnesse in heart to haue earthly things. Some other folke say, that Auarice is for to purchase many yearthly things, and nothing to yeue to hem that haue need. And understand, that auarice standeth not only in land ne cattel, but sometime in science and glory, and in euery manner of outragious things, is Auarice. And Couetise is this:
Couetise, is for to couet such things that thou hast not. And Auarice is, to withhold and keep such things as thou hast, without right. Soothly, this auarice is a sin that is full dampnable, for all holy writ curseth it, and speaketh ayenst yt vice, for it doth wrong [Page 188] to Iesu Christ: for it taketh fro him, the loue that men to him owe, and tourneth it backward ayenst all reason, & maketh that the auaricious man hath more hope in his cattel than in Iesu Christ, and doth more obseruaunce in keeping of his treasour, than he doth in the seruice of Iesu Christ. And therefore sayeth Saint Poule. Ad Ephesios quinto: * That an auaricious man is the thraldom of Idolatrie.
What difference is there betwixt an Idolater and an auaricious man? But that an Idolaster, peraduenture ne hath not but a Maumet, or two, and the auaricious man hath many: For certes, euery Florein in his cofer, is his Maumet. And certes, the sin of Maumetrie, is the first that God defended, as in the x. commaundment it beareth witnesse, in Exodi. Capi. xx. Thou shalt haue no false goddes before me, ne thou shalt make to thee no grauen thing. Thus is an auaricious man that loueth his treasure before God, an Idolaster. And through this cursed sin of auarice and couetise, commeth these hard Lordships, through which they ben strained by tallages, customs, and cariages, more than her dutie or reason is: or else take they of her bondmen amerciaments, which might more reasonably be called extortions, than merciamentes. Of which amerciaments, or raunsoming of bondmen, some Lords stewards say, that it is rightful, for as much as a churl hath no temporel thing, that it ne is his Lords, as they say. But certes, these Lordships do wrong, that bereaue their bondmen things that they neuer yaue hem. Augustinus de Ciuitate dei. Libro .ix. Sooth is, * That the condition of thraldom, and the first cause of thraldom was for sin.
Thus may ye see, that the offence deserued thraldome, but not nature. Wherefore these Lords ne should not much glorifie hem in her Lordships, sith that they by natural condition, been not Lords ouer thrals, but for that thraldome came first by the desert of sin. And more ouer, there as the Law sayth, That temporal goods of bondfolk been the goods of her Lord: yea, that is for to understond, the goods of the Emperour, to defend hem in her right, but not to rob hem ne reue hem. Therefore sayeth Seneca: * Thy prudence should liue benignely with the thrals. Those that thou callest thy thrals, been Gods people: and for humble people been Christs friends, they been contubernial with the Lords.
* Think also, that of such seed as churls spring, of such seed spring Lords: As well may y• churl be saued, as the Lord. The same death that taketh the churl, such death taketh the Lord. Wherefore I rede, do right so with the churle, as thou wouldst yt thy Lord did with thee, if thou were in his plight. * Euery sinful man is a churl to sin: I rede the Lord certes, yt thou werk in such wise with thy churls, that they rather loue thee than dread thee. I wote well, that there is degree aboue degree, as reason is, and skill is, that men do her deuoir, there as it is due. But certes, extortions, and despight of your underlings, is damnable.
And furthermore understand well, that these Conquerors or Tyrants make full oft thrals of hem that been born of as royal blood as been they that hem conquere. This name of Thraldome was neuer erst know, till that Noe saied, that his son Cham should be thral to his brethren for his sin. What say we then of hem that pill and doe extortions to holy Church: Certes, the swerd that men yeue first to a knight when he is new dubbed, signifieth, that he should defend holy Church, and not robbe and pill it: and who so doeth, is traitour to Christ. And as saith S. Augustine, * They been the deuils Wolues, that strangle the sheepe of Iesu Christ, and done worse than Wolues: for soothly, when the Wolfe hath full his womb, he stinteth to strangle sheep: But soothly, the pillours and destroyers of holy Church goods, ne doe not so, for they ne stint neuer to pill. Now as I haue saied, sith so is, that sin was first cause of thraldome, then is it thus, that at the time that all this world was in sin, then was all this world in thraldome, and in subjection: but certes, sith the time of grace came, God ordained, that some folk should be more high in estate and in degree, and some folk more low, and that ech should be serued in his estate.
And therefore in some countries there they be thrals, when they haue tourned hem to their fayth, they make her thrals free out of the thraldome: & therefore, certes the Lord oweth to his man, that the man oweth to the Lord. The Pope calleth himself seruaunt to the seruants of God, but for, as the estate of holy Church ne might not haue been, ne the common profite might not haue be kept, ne peace ne rest in earth, but if God had ordained, that some man haue higher degre, & some men lower: therefore was soueraignty ordained to keep, maintain, and defend her underlings and her subiects in reason, as fer forth as it lyeth in her power, and not to destroy ne confound hem. Wherefore I say, that those lords that been like wolues, that deuoure the possessions or the cattel of poor folks wrongfully, without mercy or measure, they shall receiue by the same measure that they haue measured to poor folk, y• measure of Iesu Christ, but it be amended. Now commeth deceit betwixt marchaunt and marchaunt. And thou shalt understond, yt marchaundise is in two manners, that one is bodily, & that other is ghostly: that one is honest and leful, & that other is dishonest and unleful. The bodily marchaundise that is leful and honest, is this: that there as God [Page 189] hath ordained, that a reigne or a countrey is suffisaunt to himselfe, then it is honest and lefull, that of haboundance of this countrey menne helpe another countrey that is needy: And therefore there must be marchaunts to bring fro one countrey to that other, her marchaundise. That other marchaundise that menne haunten with fraude, and trecherie, and deceit, with leasinges and false othes, is right cursed and dampnable. Espirituell Marchaundise is properly Simonie, that is, ententiue desire to buy any thing espirituell, that is, a thing which appertayneth to the sanctuarie of God, and to cure of the soule. This desire, if so be that a manne do his diligence to perfourme it, all be it that his desire ne take none effect, yet it is to him a deadly sin: & if he be ordered, he is irregular. Certes Simonie is called of Simon magus, that would haue bought for temporel cattel the yest that God had yeue by the Holy-ghost to Saint Peter, and to the Apostles: And therefore vnderstond, that he that selleth and he that buyeth things espirituell, ben called Simoniackes, be it by cattell, be it by procuring, or by fleshly praier of his frends, fleshly frends, or espirituell frends, fleshly in two manners, as by kinred or other frends: Soothly, if they pray for him that is not worthy and able, it is Simonie, if he take the benefice: and if he be worthy and able, there is none. That other manner is, when man or woman prayeth for folke to auaunce hem only, for wicked fleshly affection which they haue vnto the persons, and that is foul Simonie. But certes, in seruice, for which menne yeuen things espirituell vnto her seruaunts, it must be vnderstond, that y• seruice must be honest, or els not, & also, that it be without bargaining, and that the person be able. For (as saith Saint Damasen:) * All the sinnes of the world, at regard of this sinne, are as thing of nought, for it is the greatest sinne that may be after the sin of Lucifer and of Antichrist: For by this sinne God forleseth the Church and the Soule, which hee bought with his precious blood, by hem yt yeue Churches to hem that been not worthy, for they are put in theeues honds, that steale the soules of Iesu Christ, and destroy his patrimonie. By such vnworthy Priests and Curates, haue leaud menne lesse reuerence of the Sacraments of holy Church: & such yeuers of Churches put the children of Christ out, & put in y• Church the Diuels owne sonnes: they sell the soules that Lambs should keep, to the Wolf, which strangleth hem: and therfore shall they neuer haue part of the pasture of Lambes, that is, the blisse of Heauen. Now cometh hasardry, with his apertenaunces, at tables and rafles, of which cometh deceit, false oths, chidings, and all rauenous blasphemings, & renyings of God, and hate of his neyghbours, wast of goods, mispending of time, and sometime manslaughter. Certes, hasardours ne mow not bee without greate sinne. Of Auarice commeth also leasinges, theft, false witnesse, and false othes: and ye shall vnderstond, that these bee great sinnes, and expresse ayenst the commaundements of God, as I haue sayd. False witnesse is in word, and also in deede: In worde, as for to bereaue thy neighbours good name by thy false witnesse, or bereaue him his cattell or his heritage, by thy false witnessing, when thou for ire, or for meede, or for enuie, bearest false witnesse, or accusest him, or excuseth thy self falsely. Ware ye questmongers and notaries: certes, for false witnessing, was Susan in full great sorrowe and paine, and many another mo. The sinne of theft is also expresse ayenst Gods hest, and in two manners (corporell, and spirituell) the temporell theft is: As, for to take thy neighbours cattell ayenst his will, be it by force or by sleight, be it by mette or by measure: by stealing also of false enditements vpon him, and in borrowing of thy neighbours cattell, in entent neuer to pay it ayen, and semblable things. Espirituell theft is sacrilege, that is to say, hurting of holy things sacred to Christ in two manners, by reason of the holy place, as Churches or Churchyards: For which euery villainous sinne that men done in such places, may be called sacrilege, or euery violence in the semblable places. Also they that withdrawe falsely the rightes that long to holy Church and pleasing. And generally sacriledge is to reue holy thing fro holy place, or vnholy thing, out of holy place, or holy thing out of vnholy place.
NOw shall ye vnderstond, that releeuing of Auarice, is misericorde and pitty largely taken. And men might aske, why that misericorde and pitty are releeuing of Auarice: Certes, the auaricious man sheweth no pitty ne misericorde to the needfull man.
For he delighteth him in the keping of his treasure, & not in the rescuing ne releeuing of his euin Christen. And therefore speake I first of misericorde. Then is misericorde (as saith the Phylosopher) a vertue, by which the courage of man is stirred by the misease of him that is diseased. Vpon which misericorde followeth pity, in performing and fulfiling of charitable workes of mercie, helping & comforting him that is miseased. And certes, these things moue and stir a man to misericorde of Iesu Christ, that he yaue himselfe for our offence, and suffered death for misericorde, and foryaue vs our original sins, and thereby released vs fro the pains of hell, and minished y• pains of purgatory by penitence, and yeueth grace well to do, and at last, the blisse of heauen. The speces of misericorde ben for to lene, and also for to yeue, for to foryeue and release, and for to haue pity in heart, and [Page 190] compassion of the mischeef of his euin Christen, and also to chastise there as need is. Another manner of remedy ayenst Auarice, is reasonable largesse: but soothly, here behooueth the consideration of that grace of Iesu Christ, and of the temporell goodes, and also of the goodes perdurable that Iesu Christ yaue to vs, and to haue remembrance of the death which he shall receiue, he knoweth not when, where, ne who: and also that he shall forgo all that he hath, saue onely that which he hath expended in good werkes.
But for as much as some folk ben vnmeasurable, men ought for to auoyd and eschewe foolish largesse, the whiche some people call waste.
Certes, he that is foole large, yeueth not his cattell, but he leseth his cattell. Soothly, what thing that he yeueth for vaine-glory, as to minstrels, and to folke that beare his renome in the world, he hath sinne thereof, and none almesse: certes, * He leseth foule his good, that he ne seeketh with the yeft of his good nothing but sinne. He is like to an horse that seeketh rather to drink drouy or troubled water, than for to drink water of the cleare well. To hem appertainen the said cursing that Christ shall yeue at the day of doome to hem that shall be damned.
AFter Auarice cometh Glotenie, which is expresse ayenst the commandement of God. Glotenie, is vnmeasurable appetite to eate or to drinke, or els to do ynough to the vnmeasurable appetite and disordained couetise to eat or to drink. This sinne corrupteth all this world, as is well shewed in the sinne of Adam and of Eue. Looke also what saith saint Poul of glotenie. * Many (saith he) gone, of which I haue often said to you, and now I say it weeping, that been the enemies of the crosse of Christ, of which the end is death, and of which her womb is her God and her glory, in confusion of hem that so deuour earthly thinges.
He that is vsed to this sin of Glotenie, he ne may no sin withstond, he must be in seruage of all vices, for it is the Deuils hourd, there he hideth and resteth him. This sinne hath many speces: The first is dronkennesse, * That is the horrible sepulture of mans reason: and therefore when a manne is dronke, he hath lost his reason: And this is deadly sinne. But soothly, when that a man is not wont to strong drinke, and peraduenture ne knoweth not the strength of the drinke, or hath feeblesse in his head, or hath trauayled, through which he drinketh the more, all be he suddainely caught with drinke, it is no deadly sinne, but veniall. The second spece of glotenie is, that the spirit of a manne wexeth all troubled, for dronkennesse bireaueth him the discretion of his wit.
The third manner spece of Glotonie, is when a man deuoureth his meat, and hath not rightfull manner of eating. The fourth is, when through the great abundance of his meat, the humours in his body been distempered. The fifth is, foryetfulnesse by too much drinking, for which sometime a man forgetteth ere the morning what he did on the euening before.
In other manner been distinct the speces of glotonie, after S. Gregorie. The first is, for to eat before time to eat. The second is, when a man giueth him to delicate meat or drink. The third is, when men take too much ouer measure. The fourth is, curiositie, with great entent to make and appareill his meat. The fift is, for to eat too greedily.
These ben the fiue fingers of the deuils hond, by which he draweth folke to sinne.
AYenst Glotenie, the remedie is abstinence, as saith Galiene: but that I hold not meritorious, if he do it for the heale of his body. Saint Augustine woll that abstinence be done for vertue, and with patience. Abstinence (saith he) is little worth, but if a man haue good will thereto, and but if he be enforced by patience and charitie, and that men do it for Gods sake, and in hope to haue blisse in heauen.
The fellowes of abstinence bee attemperaunce, that holdeth the meane in all things. Also Shame, that escheweth all dishonestie. Suffisaunce, that seeketh no rich meates ne drinkes, ne doth not force of outragious appaireling of meat. Measure also, that restraineth by reason the vnmeasurable appetite of eating. Sobernesse also, that restrayneth the outrage of drinke. Sparing also, that restrayneth the delicate ease, to sit long at meat, wherefore some folke standen of her owne will when they eate, because they woll eate at lesse leasure.
AFter Glotenie commeth Letcherie, for these two sins been so nigh cousins, that oft time they woll not depart. God wot this sin is full displeasant to God, he forsaid himselfe: Do no letcherie. And therefore he putteth great paines ayenst this sin.
For in the old law, if a woman thrall were take in this sin, she should be beat with staues to death. And if she were a gentlewoman, she should be slaine with stones. And if she were a bishops doughter, she should be brent by Gods commaundement.
Moreouer, by the sin of Lechery God drowned all the world, and after that he brent fiue cities with thunder and lightning, and sanke hem into hell.
[Page 191] Now let vs speak then of the said stinking sin of Lecherie, that men call auoutrie of wedded folk, that is to say, if that one of hem ben wedded, or els both. Saint Iohn saith, That auouterers shall be in hell in a stacke bre [...]ning of fire and of brimstone, for the stenche of her ordure: certes, the breaking of this sacrament is an horrible thing: it was made of God himself in Paradise, and confirmed by Iesus Christ, as witnesseth Saint Mathew in the Gospell: * A man shall leue father and mother, and take him to his wife, and they shall be two in one flesh.
This Sacrament betokeneth the knitting together of Christ and holye Church. And not onely that God forbade auoutrie indeede, but also he commaunded, That thou shouldest not couet thy neighbours wife.
In this heste (saith Saint Augustine) is forbode all manner couetise to do Letcherie. Lo, what saith Saint Mathew in the Gospell, * That who so seeth a woman, to couetise of his lust, he hath done Lecherie with her in his heart. Here may ye see, that not onely the deed of this sinne is forboden, but also the desire to that sin. This cursed sin annoyeth greeuously hem that it haunt: and first to her soule, for he obligeth it to sin, and to pain of death, which is perdurable: then of the body annoyeth it greeuously also, for it drieth him and wasteth, and shenteth him, and of his blood he maketh sacrifice to the fiend of hell: It wasteth his cattell and his substaunce. And certes, if it be a foule thing, a man to waste his cattell on women: yet it is a fouler thing, when that for such ordure, women dispend vpon men her cattell and her substaunce. * This sin, as saith the Prophet, taketh from man and woman her good fame and her honour, and it is full delectable and pleasant to the deuill: for thereby winneth he the more part of this wretched world. And right as a Marchant delighteth him most in that chaffare which he hath most aduauntage and profite of, right so delighteth the fiend in this ordure.
This is that other hond of the deuil, with fiue fingers, to catch the people to his villanie. The first is the foolish looking of the foolish woman and of the foolish man, that s [...]aeth right as the Basilicocke or Cocatrice steeth folke by venim of his sight: for the couetise of y• eyen followeth the couetise of the heart. The second finger is the villainous touching in wicked manner. And therefore saith Salomon: * That who so toucheth & handleth a woman, he fareth as the man that handeleth the Scorpion, which stingeth and sodenly sleeth through his enueniming, or as who so that toucheth warme pitch blemisheth his fingers. The third is foule words, which fareth like fire, which right anone brenneth the heart. The fourth finger is the kissing: And truely he were a great foole that would kisse the mouthe of a brenning ouen or of a fournace. And more fooles ben they that kisse in villainy, for that mouth is the mouth of hell, and namely these old dotardes holours, which woll kisse and flicker, and busie hemselfe tho they may nought do. Certes they been like to hounds: For an hound when he cometh nye to the roser, or by other benches, thoughe so bee that he maye not pisse, yet woll he heaue vp his leg and make a countenaunce to pisse. And for that manie man weeneth that hee maye not sinne for no licorousnesse that he doth with his wife, truely that opinion is false: * God wote a man maye slee himselfe with his owne knife, and make himselfe drunke with his owne tunne. Certes be it wife, be it childe, or any worldly thing yt he loueth before God, it is his maumette, and he is an idolaster. * A man should loue his wife by discretion, patiently and attemperately, and then is shee as though it were his suster. The fifth finger of ye Diuels hond, is the stinking deed of lecherie. Truly the fiue fingers of gluttonie the Diuel putteth into the womb of a man: And with his fiue fingers of lecherie hee grypeth him by the reins, for to throw him into the furnace of Hell, there as they shall haue the fire and the wormes that euer shall last, and weping and wayling, and sharpe hunger and thurst, grimnesse of Diuels, which shall all to tread hem withouten end. Of lechery, as I sayd, sourdeth and springeth diuers speces: as fornication, that is between man and woman which bee not married, and is deadly sinne, and ayenst nature. All that is enemie and distruction to nature, is ayenst nature. Perfay the reason of a man telleth him well also that it is deadly sinne, for as much as God forbad lecherie. And Saint Paule yeueth hem the reigne that nis dewe to no wight but to hem that done deadly sinne. Another sinne of lecherie is, to bereaue a maids maidenhead, for he y• so doth, certes he casteth a mayden out of y• highest degre that is in this present life, and bereaueth her that precious fruicte that the boke calleth the hundreth fruits, I ne can saye it none otherwise in English, but in Latine it hight (Centesimus fructus:) Certes he that so doth, is y• cause of many damages and villanies, mo than any man can recken: right as he is cause of many damages sometime that beastes do in the field, that breake the hedge or ye closure, through which he destroyeth that may not be restored: For certes no more may maydenhead be restored, than an arme that is smitte fro the bodie, may returne ayen and waxe: She may haue mercy, this wote I well, if that she haue will to do penitence, but neuer shall it be that she nas corrupt. And all be it so that I haue spoke somewhat of auoutrie, also it is good to shew the perilles that long to auoutrie, for to eschew that foul sinne. Auoutrie in latine, is for to say, approaching of another mannes [Page 192] bedde, through whiche those that sometime were one flesh, abandone her bodies to other persons. Of this sinne, as sayeth the wise man, follow many harmes: First breaking of fayth, and certes in fayth is the key of christendome: and when that fayth is broke and lost, soothly christendom stont veine and without fruit. This sinne also is theft, for theft generally is to reaue a wight his things ayenst his will. * Certes, this is the foulest theft that may be, when that a woman stealeth her body from her husbond, and yeueth it to her holour to defoyle her: and stealeth her soule fro Christ, and yeueth it to the Deuill: This is a fouler thefte than for to breake a Church and steal away the chalice, for these auouterers break the temple of God spiritually, and steal the vessell of grace, that is the bodie and the soule: For which Christe shall destroy hem, as saith saint Poule. Sothly of this theft doubted greatly Ioseph, when that his Lordes wife prayed him of villainy, when he sayde: Lo my Lady, how my Lord hath take to me vnder my warde, all that he hath in this world, ne nothing of his things is out of my power, but onely ye that be his wife: and how should I then doe this wickednesse, and sin so horrible ayenst God, and ayenst my Lord, God it forbede. Alas, all too little is suche trouth nowe found. The third harm is the silth, through which they breake the commaundement of God, and defoyle the auter of matrimonie, that is Christ. For certes, in so much as the Sacrament of marriage is so noble & so digne, so much is it greater sin for to break it: For God made mariage in Paradise in the estate of innocencie, to multiplie mankinde in the seruice of God, and therefore is the breaking therof the more greeuous, of which breaking come false heirs oft time, that wrongfully occupie folks heritages: and therefore woll Christ put hem out of the reign of heauen, that is heritage to good folk. Of this breaking commeth also oft time, that folk vnware wed or sinne with her own kinrede: and namely these harlots, that haunt brodels of these foul women, that may be likened to a commune gong, whereas men purge her ordure. What say we also of putours, that liue by the horrible sinne of putrie, and constrain women to yeue to hem a certain rent of her bodely puterie, yea, sometime of his own wife or his childe, as done these bauds: Certes, these been cursed sins. Vnderstond also, that aduoutrie is set gladly in the ten commaundements between theft and manslaughter, for it is the greatest theft that may be, for it is theft of body & of soul, and it is like an homicide, for it kerueth atwo and breaketh atwo hem that first were made of one flesh. And therefore by the old law of God they should be slaine, but nathelesse, by the law of Iesu Christ, that is, law of pity, when he said to the woman that was found in auoutrie, and should haue bee slayne with stones, after the will of the Iewes, as was her law: Go, said Iesu Christ, and haue no more will to do sin. Soothly, the vengeance of auoutrie is awarded to the pains of Hell, but if so be that it be disturbed by penitence. Yet been there mo speces of this cursed sin, as when that one of hem is religious, or els both, or of folk that ben entred into order, as sub-Deacon, Deacon, or Priest, or Hospitaliers: & euer the higher that he is in order, the greater is the sin. The things that greatly agredge her sin, is the breaking of her auow of chastity, when they receiued the order. And moreouer, sooth is that holy order is cheefe of all the treasorie of God, and his especiall sign and mark of chastity, to shew that they beene joyned to chastity, which is the most precious life that is: and these ordered folk ben specially titled to God, and of the special meine of God: for which when they done deadly sinne, they been the traitors of God and of his people, for they liue of the people. Priestes been Angels, as by the dignitie of her mysterie: but forsooth Saint Poul saith, That Sathanas transfourmeth him in an Angell of light. Soothly, the Priest that haunteth deadly sinne, he may be likened to the Angel of darkenesse, transformed into the Angell of light. He seemeth Angell of light, but forsooth he is Angel of darknesse. Such Priests be the sonnes of Hely, as sheweth in the book of Kings, that they were the sons of Beliall, that is, the Diuell. Beliall is to say, without judge, and so fare they, hem thinketh they be free, and haue no judge, no more than hath a free Bull, yt taketh which Cow that him liketh in the town. So fare they by women, for right as one free Bull is ynough for all a town, right so is a wicked Priest corruption ynough for all a parish, or for all a countrey: These Priests, as sayth the booke, ne cannot minister the mystery of Priesthood to the people, ne they knowe not God, they ne held hem not apayed, as saith the book, of sodden flesh that was to hem offered, but they took by force y• flesh that was raw. Certes, so these shrews ne held hem not apayed of rosted and sodde flesh, with which the people fedde hem in great reuerence, but they woll haue raw flesh of folkes wiues and her doughters: and certes, these women that consent to her harlottrie, done great wrong to Christ and to holy Church, all Hallowes, and all Soules, for they bireaue all these, hem that should worship Christe and holye Church, and pray for Christian Souls: and therefore haue such Priests, & her lemmans also that consent to her lecherie, the cursing of all the court Christian, till they come to amendment. The third spece of auoutrie, is sometime betwixt a manne and his wife, and that is, when they take no regard in her assembling, but onely to her fleshly delight, as saith Saint Ierom, and ne reckon of nothing but that they ben assembled because they ben [Page 193] married, all is good ynough, as they thinke: but in such folke hath the Diuell power, as said the Angel Raphael to Tobie, for in her assembling, they put Iesu Christ out of her heart, and yeue hemselfe to all ordure. The fourth spece is, the assembly of hem that ben of one affinity, or else of hem with which her fathers or her kinred have dealed in the sin of lechery: This sinne maketh hem like to houndes, that take no kepe to kinrede. And certes, parentele is in two manners: either ghostly or fleshly: ghostly, as for to deal with his godsib, for right so as he that engendreth a child, is his fleshly father, right so is his Godfather his father espirituell: for which a woman may in no lesse sinne assemble with her Godsib, than with her owne fleshly father. The fifth spece is, that abhominable sinne, of which abhominable sinne no man vnneth ought speake ne write, nathelesse it is openly rehearsed in holy writ. This cursed sin doen men and women in diverse entent and in divers manner: But though that holy writ speake of horrible sinne, certes, holy writ may not be defoyled, no more than the sunne that shineth on the dunghill. Another sinne appertaineth to lechery, that commeth sleeping, and this sin commeth often to hem that been maidens, and also to hem that be corrupt, and this sinne men call Pollution, that commeth of three manners: Sometime of languishing of body, for the humours been too rank and habundant in the body of man, sometime of infirmity, for feblenes of ye vertue retentife, as physicke maketh mention: Sometime for surfet of meat and drink, and sometime of villainous thoughts that been enclosed in mannes mind when he goeth to sleepe, which may not be without sinne, for whiche men must keepe hem wisely, or else may men sin full greevously.
NOw cometh the remedy ayenst lechery, and that is, general chastite and continence, that restrain all disordinate mevings that come of fleshly talents. And euer the greater merite shall he have that most restraineth the wicked chausinges of the ordour of this sin, and this is in two manners: That is to say, chastite in mariage, & chastite in widdowhood. Now shalt thou vnderstonde that matrimony is leful assembling of man and woman that receiuen by vertue of this Sacrament the bonde through whiche they may not be departed in all her life, yt is to say, while that they live both. This, as saith the book, is a full great sacrament, God made it (as I have said) in paradise, & wold himselfe be borne in mariage: and for to hallow mariage, he was at a wedding, whereas he tourned water into wine, which was the first miracle that he wrought in earth before his disciples. True effecte of marriage clenseth fornication, and replenisheth holy Church of good linage, for that is the end of mariage, and chaungeth deadly sin into veniall sin between hem that been wedded, and maketh the hearts as one of hem that been wedded, as well as the bodies.
Very mariage was established by God, ere that sinne began, when natural lawe was in his right point in Paradice. And it was ordained, that o man should haue but o woman, and o woman but o man, as sayeth saint Augustine, by many reasons.
First, for mariage is figured betwixt Christ and holy Church.
Another is, for a man is head of a woman, alway by ordinaunce it should be so. For if a woman had moe men than one, then should she haue moe heads than one, and that were a right horrible sinne before God, and also a woman mighte not please so many folke at ones: and also there should neuer be rest ne quiet among hem, for each of hem would aske her owne right. And furthermore, no manne should know his own engendrure, ne who should haue his heritage, and the woman should be the lesse beloued.
Now cometh how that a man should bere him with his wife, and namely in two things, that is to say, in sufferaunce and reuerence, as shewed Christ when he first made woman. For he ne made her of the head of Adam, for she should not claim to great lordshippe, * For there as the woman hath the maistry, she maketh too much variaunce: there need no mo ensamples of this, the experience all day ought inough suffice.
Also certes, God ne made not woman of the foot of Adam, for she should not be hold too lowe, for she cannot patiently suffer: but God made woman of the rib of Adam, for woman should be fellow unto man.
Man should bear him to his wife in faith, in trouth, and in loue, (as sayth saint Poul) that a man shold loue his wife, as Christ loveth holy Church, that loued it so wel that he dyed for it: so should a man for his wife, if it were neede.
Now how that a woman should be subiect to her husband: that telleth saint Peter, first in obedience. And also as sayth the Decree: * A woman that is a wife, as long as she is a wife, she hath none authority to swear ne bear witnesse, without leaue of her husband, that is her Lord, alway he should be so by reason. She should also serue him in all honestie, and be attemperate of her array.
I woll well that they should set her entent to please her husbonds, but not by queintise of her array. Saint Ierom sayth: Wiues that be apparelled in like and precious purple, ne mow not cloth hem in Iesu Christ. S. Gregorie sayth also: yt no wight seeketh precious aray, but only for vainglory to be honoured the more of the people. It is a great folly, a woman to haue great aray outward, and in her self be foul inward. A wife should also be measurable in looking, in bearing, and in laughing, and discreet in all her wordes [Page 194] and her deeds, and above all worldly things she should loue her husbonde with all her heart, and to him be true of her body: so should an husbond be to his wife: For sith that all the body is the husbonds, so should her heart be, or els there is betwixt hem two, as in that, no perfit mariage. Then shall men understond, that for three things a man and his wife fleshly may assemble. The first is, for the entent of engendrure of children, to the service of God, for certes, that is the cause final of matrimony. Another cause is, to yeeld each of hem to other the debts of her bodies; for neither of hem hath power over her owne bodies. The third is, for to eschew lechery and villany. The fourth is for sooth deadly sinne. As to the first, is meritorie: the second also, for as saith the Decree, That she hath merit of chastitie, that yeeldeth to her husbond the debt of her body, yea though it be ayenst her liking, & the lust of her heart. The third manner is venial sin, & truly, scarcely may any of these be without venial sin, for the corruption and for y• delight. The fourth maner is for to understond, if they assemble onely for amorous love, & for none of the foresaid causes, but for to accomplish their brenning delight, they recke not how oft, soothly it is deadly sin: & that with sorrow, some folke woll paine hem more to do than to her appetite suffiseth.
The second manner of chastity is, for to be a clean widow, & eschew the embracings of a man, & desire the embracing of Iesu Christ. These ben those that have ben wives, & have forgot her husbonds, & also women yt have done lechery, & been received by penitence. And certes, if that a wife could kepe her all chast, by licence of her husband, so y• she yeve never none occasion yt he offend, it were to her a great merit. This manner of women, that observeth chastity in clothing & in countenance, abstinent in eating and drinking, in speaking, and in dead, she is the vessel or the bore of the blessed Magdelain, yt fulfilleth holy Church of good odour. The third maner of chastitie is virginity, & it behooveth that she be holy in heart, & clean of body, then is she spouse of Iesu Christ, & she is the life of Angels: she is the praising of this world, and she is as these martyrs in egallity: she hath in her that tongue may not tell, ne heart think. Virginity bare our Lord Iesu Christ, and virgin was himselfe.
Another remedy against lechery is, specially to withdraw such things as yeve occasion to that villany: as ease, eating, and drinking: for certes, when the pot boyleth strongly, the best remedy is to withdraw the fire. Sleping long in great quiet, is also a great nourice to Lechery.
Another remedy ayenst lechery is, That a man or a woman eschew the company of hem by which he doubteth to be tempted: For al be it so, that the deed is withstond, yet is there great temptation. Soothly, a white wall, although it ne bren not fully, by sticking of the candle, yet is the wall black of the flame. Full oft time I rede, that no man trust in his own perfection, but he be stronger than Sampson, or holier than Daniel, or wiser than Salomon.
Now after that I have declared you as I can, the seven deadly sinnes, and some of her braunches, with her remedies. Soothly, if I could, I would tell you the ten commaundements, but so high doctrine I put to Divines. Nathelesse, I hope to God they ben touched in this treatise each of hem.
¶Sequitur secunda pars Poenitentiae.
NOw for as much as the second part of penitence stont in confession of mouth, as I began in the first chap. I say S. Augustine saith: Sin is every word and every deed, and all that men conject against the law of Iesu Christ, and this is for to sinne in heart, in mouth, and in deed, by the fiue wits, which ben sight, hearing, smelling, tasting or savour, and feeling. Now is it good to vnderstand, that that agregeth much every sinne. Thou shalt consider what thou art that doest the sinne, whether thou be male or female, young or old, gentle or thrall, free or seruaunt, whole or sick, wedded or single, ordred or vnordred, wise or foole, clerke or seculer, if she be of thy kindred bodily or ghostly or no, if any of thy kindred have sinned with her or no, and many mo things.
Another circumstaunce is this, Whether it be doen in fornication, or in advoutry, or no, in manner of homicide or no, horrible great sinnes, or small, and how long thou hast continued in sinne. The third circumstaunce is, the place there thou hast done sin, whether in other mennes houses, or in thine own, in field, in church, or in churchyard, in church dedicate, or no. For if the church be hallowed, and man or woman spili his kinde within that place, by way of sinne or wicked temptation, the church is enterdicted, and the Priest that did such a villany, the tearme of all his life he should no more sing Masse: and if he did, he should do deadly sin, at every time that he so sung Masse. The fourth circumstaunce is, by whiche mediatours or by which messengers, or for enticement, or for consentment, to beare companie with fellowshippe. * For many a wretch for to bear companie, woll goe to the Diuel of hell. Wherefore, they that egge or consent to the sin, ben partners of the sinne, and of the temptation of the sinner. The fifth circumstaunce is, how many times that he hath sinned, if it be in his minde, and how oft he hath fallen. For hee that oft falleth in sin, he dispiseth the mercy of God, and encreaseth his sin, and is unkind to Christe, and hee waxeth the more feeble to withstand sin, and sinneth the more lightly, [Page 195] and the latter riseth, & is more slow to shriue him, and namely to him that is his confessor. For which that folke when they fall ayen to her old follies, either they leaue their old confessor, or else they depart her shrift in diuers partes: But soothly suche departed shrift deserueth no mercie of God for her sins. The sixt circumstance is, why that a man sinneth as by temptation: and of himselfe procure that temptation, or by the exciting of other folk, or if he sinne with a woman by force or by her assent, or if the woman, maugre her head, haue be aforced or none. This shall she tell, wheder it were for couetise of pouerty, or if it were by her procurement or no, & such other things. The seventh circumstance is, in what manner he hath doe his sinne, or how that she hath suffered that folke have doe to her. And the same shall the man tell plainly, with all the circumstaunces, and wheder he hath sinned with common bordell women or non, or doen his sin in holy times or non, in fasting time or non, or before his shrift, or after his latter shrift, and hath peradventure broke thereby his penance enjoyned, by whose helpe or whose counsaile, by sorcery or craft, all must be told, and all these things after as they be great or smale, and grudge y• conscience of man or woman. And eke the Priest that is thy judge, may the better be advised of his judgement in yeuing of penaunce, and that is after thy contrition. For understond well that after time that a man hath defoyled his baptime by sinne, if he woll come to saluation there is none other way but by pennaunce, shrifte, & satisfaction, and namely by they two, if there be a confessour to whom he may shriue him, and the third if he have life to performe it. Then shall a man loke and consider, that if he woll make a true and a profitable confession, there must be four conditions. First it must be in sorrowfulnesse of hert, as saith the King Ezechiell to God, * I woll remember me all the years of my life in bitternesse of my heart. This condition of bitternesse hath fiue signes: The first is, that confession must be shamefast, not for to cover ne hide her sinne, for he hath offended his Lord God and defoyled his soule. And hereof saith S. Augustin: * The heart travaileth for shame of his sinne, and for he hath great shamefastnesse he is worthy to haue great mercy of God: which was the confession of the Publican, that would not heave up his eyen to heaven for he had offended God of heaven: for which shamefastnesse he had anon the mercy of God. And thereof saith saint Augustine: That such shamefull folk be next foryeuenesse and mercy.
Another signe is, humility in confession: of which sayth saint Peter, * Humbleth you vnder the might of GOD: the hond of God is strong inconfession, for therby God foryeueth thee thy sinnes, for he alone hath the power. And this humility shall be in hert, and in outward signes: For right as he hath humility to God in his hert, right so should he humble his body outward to the priest, that sitteth in Gods stead. For which in no manner, sith that Christ is soueraigne, and the priest mean and mediatour betwixt Christ & the sinner, and the sinner is lost by way of reason, then should not the sinner sitte as hye as his confessour, but kneel before him or at his feet, but if sicknesse cause it: For he shall not take heed who sitteth there, but in whose place he sitteth. A manne that hath trespassed to a Lord, and commeth to ask mercy and make his accord, and sitteth him down by him, men would hould him outragious, and not worthy so soone for to have remission of his trespasse.
The third signe is, how thy shrifte should be full of teares if thou may, and if thou may not weepe with thy bodily eyen, then weepe in thine heart, which was the confession of saint Peter. For after that he had forsake Iesus Christ, he went out and wept full bitterly.
The fourth signe is, that thou ne lette not for shame to shew thy confession: Such was the confession of Magdalein, that ne spared for no shame of hein that were at the feast, to go to our Lord Iesu Christ & beknow to him her sinnes. The fifth signe is, that a manne or a woman be obeysaunt to receive the pennaunce yt hem is injoyned. For certes Iesu Christ, for the offences of man, was obedient to death. The second condition of very confession is, that it be hastily done. For certes, if a man had a deadly wound, euer the lenger that he taryeth to heale himself, the more would it corrupt and haste him to his death, and also the wound would be y• worse for to hele. And right so fareth sinne, that longe time is in a man unshewed. Certes a man ought hastely shew his sins for manie causes, as for dread of death, that commeth oft sodainely, and no certain what time it shall be, ne in what place, and also the drenching of o sinne draweth in another: and also the lenger that he tarrieth, the farther is he fro Christ. And if he abide to his last day, scarcely may he shriue him or remember him of his sins, or repent for the greeuous maladie of his death. * And for as much as he ne hath in his life hearkened Iesu Christ when he hath spoken, he shall crie to Iesus Christ at his last daie, and scarcely woll he hearken him. And understonde that this condition muste haue foure thinges.
Thy shrift must be prouided before, and aduised, for wicked hast doth not profit, if a man shrive him of his sins: be it of Pride, or enuye, and so forth with the speces and circumstaunces of sin. And that hee haue comprehended in his minde the number and greatnesse of his sins, and how long he hath lyen in sinne. And also that he hath be contrite for his sins, and in stedfast purpose (by the [Page 196] grace of God) neuer ayen to fall to sin. And also that he dread and counterfaite himself that he fly the occasion of sinne, to whiche he is inclined. Also thou shalt shriue thee of all thy sinnes to o manne, and not part to o manne, and part to another: That is to vnderstond, in entent to depart thy confession for shame or dread, for it is but strangling of thy soul. * For certes, Iesus Christ is entierly all good, in him is none imperfection, and therefore either he foryeueth all perfectly, or els neuer a deal. I say not that if you be assigned to thy penitencer for certain sin, that thou art bounde to shewe him all the remenaunt of thy sinnes, of which thou haste be shriuen of thy curat, but if it like to thee of thy humility, this is no part of thy shrift. Ne I say not, there as I speak of division of confession, that if thou haue licence to shriue thee liketh, and by licence of thy Curate, that thou ne maist well shriue thee to him of all thy sins. Let no sin be vntold as ferre as thou hast remembraunce. And when thou shalt be shriuen to thy Curat, tell him all thy sinnes that thou hast do sith thou were last shriuen. This is no wicked entent of diuision of shrift.
Also the very shrift asketh certaine conditions. First that thou shriue thee by thy free will, not constrained for shame of folke, sicknesse, ne such other things: For it is reason that he that trespasseth by his free will, that by his free will he confesse his trespasse, and that none other man tell his sin but himself: ne he shall not nay, ne deny his sin, ne wrath him ayenst the Priest for admonishing him to leaue his sin. The second condition is, that thy shrift be lawfull, that is to say, that thou shriuest thee. And also the Priest that heareth thy confession be verely in the fayth of holy Church, and that a man ne be not dispeired of the mercie of Iesu Christ, as Cain or Iudas. And also a man must accuse himself of his own trespasse & not another, but he shall blame and wite himselfe and his owne malice of his sinne, and none other: But nathelesse, if that another man be occasion or enticer of his sinne, or the estate of a person be such by which his sin is agredged, or else that he may not plainly shriue him, but he tell the person with which he hath sined, then may he tell, so that his entent ne be not to backbite the person, but onely to declare his confession.
Thou ne shalt not also make no leasinges in thy confession for humilitie, peraduenture, to say that thou hast committed & done such sinnes, as of which that thou ne were neuer giltie. For saint Augustine saith, if that thou because of thine humilitie, makest lesings on thy self, though thou were not in sin before, yet art thou then in sinne through thy leasing. Thou must also shew thy sinne, by thine own proper mouth, but thou be dombe, and not by no Letter: sor thou that hast done the sinne, shalt haue the shame therefore. Thou shalt not eke paint thy confession with fayr subtill wordes, to couer the more thy sinne: for then begilest thou thy self, & not the priest: thou must tell it plain, be it neuer so foul ne horrible. Thou shalt also shriue thee to a priest that is discreet to counsail thee: and also thou shalt not shriue thee for vaine glorie, ne for ypocrisie, ne for no cause, but only for the loue & fear of Iesus Christ, and heal of thy soul. Thou shalt not also ren to the priest sodainly, to tell him lightly thy sin, as who saith, to tell a yape or a tale, but auisedly and with good deuotion: and generally shriue thee oft: if thou oft fall, oft arise by confession. And though thou shriue the ofter than ones of the sin which thou hast be shriuen of, it is the more merite: And as saith saint Augustine, Thou shalt haue the more lightly foryeuenesse and grace of God, both of sinne and pain. And certes ones a yere at least it is lawfull to be houseled, for surely ones a year all things renouellen.
Now haue I told you of very confession, that is the second part of penitence.
THe third part of penitence is Satisfaction, and that stont most generally in almose deed and holy pain. Now been there three manner of almose. Contrition of heart, where a man offreth himself to God: Another is, to haue pitie of defaute of his neighbour: And the third is, in giuing of good counsell, ghostly and bodily, where as men haue need, and namely in sustenaunce of mans foode. And take kepe that a man hath need of these things generally, he hath need of food, of clothing, and of herborow, he hath need of charitable counsail, visiting in prison, in sicknesse, and sepulture of his body. And if thou maist not visit the needfull in prison in thy person, visit hem with thy message and yefts. These ben generally the almose and workes of charitie, of hem that haue temporell riches, or discretion in counsailing. Of these workes shalt thou hear at the day of dome.
These almose shalt thou do of thine own proper things, and hastely and priuely if thou maist: but nathelesse, if thou maist not do it priuily, thou shalt not forbear to do almose, though men see it, so that it be not to doe for thank of the world, but only for thank of Iesu Christ. For as witnesseth faint Mathew Capi. v. A Citie may not be hid that is set on a mountain, ne men light not a lantern, to put it vnder a bushell, but set it vpon a candlestick, to yeue light to menne in the house: * Right so shull your light, light before menne, that they may see your good works, and glorifie our Father that is in heauen.
[Page 197] Now as to speak of bodyly pain, it stont in praiers, waking, fasting, vertuous teaching of orisons. And ye shall understond, y• orisons or prayers, is to say, a pitous will of heart, that setteth it in God, & expresseth by word outward to remeeue harms, and haue things spirituel and perdurable, and sometime temporel things. Of which Orisons, certes in the orison of the Paternoster, hath Iesus Christ enclosed most things. Certes it is priuiledged of three things in this dignity, for which it is more digne than any other prayer, For that Iesu Christ himselfe made it, and it is short, for it shold be learned the more lightly, and to hold it the more easie in heart, and help himselfe the ofter in this Orison: and for a man should be the lesse weary to say it, and not excuse him to learn it, it is so short and easie: and for it comprehendeth in it selfe, all good prayers. The exposition of this holie prayer, that is so excellent and digne, I referre to the Maister of Theologie, saue thus much woll I say, * That when thou prayest that God should foryeue thee thine offences as thou foryeuest hem that haue offended thee, be well ware that thou be not out of charitie. This holy Orison aminisheth also venial sin, and therefore it apperteineth specially to penitence.
This prayer must be truely sayed, and in perfect fayth, and that men pray to God ordinately, discreetly, and deuoutly: and alway a manne shall put his will, to be subiect to the will of God. This Orison must also be sayd with great humblenesse, and ful pure and honestly, and not to the annoyaunce of any man or woman. It must also be continued with the works of charitie. It auaileth also ayenst the vices of the soul: for as sayth S. Irom, * By fasting been saued the vices of the flesh, and by prayer the vices of the soule.
After this thou shalt understond, that bodyly prayer stont in waking. For Iesu Christ sayeth: wake ye and pray, that ye ne enter into wicked temptaion. Ye shull understond also, that fasting stont in three things: in forbearing of bodyly meat and drink, in forbearing of worldly iollitye, and in forbearing of deadly sinne: this is to saye, that a man shall keep him fro deadly sinne with all his might.
And thou shalt understond also, that God ordayned fasting, and to fasting partayneth foure thinges. Largenesse to poore folke: gladnesse of heart spirituel: not to be angrie ne annoyed, ne grutch for he fasteth: and also reasonable hour to eate by measure, that is to saye, a man shall not eat in untime, ne sit the longer at the table, for he fasteth.
Then shalt thou understond, that bodyly pain stont in discipline, or teaching by word or writing, or by ensample. Also in wearing of heer or stamin, or of harbergeons on her naked flesh for Christes sake, and that such maner penaunces, ne make not thine heart bitter or angrie, ne annoyed of thy selfe, for better is to cast away thine heer, than to cast away the sweetnesse of Iesus Christ. And therefore sayeth saint Poule: clothe you, as they that been chosen of God in heart, of misericorde, debonairte, suffraunce, and such manner of clothing, of whiche Iesu Christ is more pleased than with the heers or herbergeons.
Then is discipline also, in knocking of thy breast, in scourging with roddes, in kneeling, in tribulation, in suffring patiently wrongs that been doen to thee, and also in patient suffring of sicknesse, or lesing of worldly goodes, or cattel, or wife, child, or other frends.
Then shalt thou nnderstond, which things disturbe pennaunce, and that is in foure manners, drrade, shame, hope, and wanhope, that is, desperation. And for to speak first of dreade, for which he weneth that he may suffer no penaunce. There ayenst is remedie, for to think that bodyly penaunce, is but short and little at regard of the pain of hell, that is so cruel and so long, that it lasteth without end.
Now ayenst the shame that a man hath to shriue him, and namely these Ipocrites, that would be hold so perfect, that they haue no need to shriue hem: Ayenst that shame would a man think, that by way of reason, that he that hath not be ashamed to do foul things, certes him ought not be ashamed, for to doe faire thinges, and that is confessions. A man should also think, that God seeth and knoweth al his thoughts, and all his werks: to him maie nothing be hid ne couered. Men should also remember hem of the shame that is to come at the daye of dome, to hem that be not penitent, and shriuen in this present life: for all the creatures in yearth and in hell shall see apertly, all that they hidde in this world.
Now for to speak of the hope of hem, that been so negligent and slowe to shriue hem: that stondeth in two manners. That one is, that he hopeth for to liue long, and for to purchase much riches for his delight, and then he woll shriue him: And as he sayeth, him semeth then timely ynough to come to shrift: * Another is, of surquidrie that he hath in Christes mercie. Ayenst the first vice, he shall thenk that our life is in no sikernesse, and also that all the riches in this worlde been in aduenture, and passe as a shadow on the wall. And as sayeth saint Gregorie, That it appartayneth to the great righteousnes of God, that neuer shall the paine stinte of hem, that neuer would withdrewe hem from sinne her thankes, but euer continued in sinne: for that perpetual will to do sinne, shall they haue perpetual pain. [Page 198] Wanhope, is in two manners. The first wanhope is in the mercie of God: That other is, that they think that they ne might not long perseuer in goodnes.
The first wanhope commeth of that, he demeth that he hath sinned so greatly and so oft, and so long lyen in sinne, that he shall not be saued. * Certes ayenst that cursed wanhope should he thinke, that the Passion of Iesu Christ is more stronge for to unbinde, than sinne is strong for to binde. Ayenst the second wanhope he shall thinke, * That as often as he falleth, he may rise againe by penitence: and though he neuer so longe hath lyen in sinne, the mercie of Christ is alway ready to receiue him to mercie. Ayenst the Wanhope that he deemeth he should not longe perseuer in goodnesse, he shall think, * That the feeblenesse of the deuil, maye nothing doe, but if men woll suffer him: and also he shall haue strength of the help of Iesu Christ, and of all holy Church, and the protection of Angels, if him list.
Then shall men understonde, what is the fruite of penaunce, and after the wordes of Iesu Christ, It is an endlesse blisse of heauen: There ioye hath neuer ende, no contrarie of woe ne greuaunce: there all harms ben passed of this present life, there as is the sikernesse fro the pain of hell, there as is the blisful companie, that rejoyce hem euermo, euerich of others ioye: there as the body of man that sometime was foule and darke, is more clere than the Sunne: there as the body that sometime was sicke, freile, and feble, and mortal, is immortall, and so strong and hole, that there ne may nothing appeire it: there as is neither hunger, thurste, ne colde, but euery soule replenished with the sight of the perfite knowing of God. This blisfull raigne may men purchase by pouertie espirituel, and the glorie by lowlines, the plentie of ioy by hunger and thurst, and the rest by trauaile, and the life by death and mortification of sinne: to which life he us bring, that bought us with his precious blood. Amen.
THE Romaunt of the Rose.
THis Book was begun in French Verse by William de Lorris, and finished forty years after by John Clopinell, alias John Moone, born at Mewen upon the River of Loyer, not far from Paris, as appeareth by Molinet, the French Author of the Morality upon the Romaunt; and afterward translated for the most part into English Metre by Geffrey Chaucer, but not finished. It is entituled, The Romaunt of the Rose; or, The Art of Love: wherein is shewed the helps and furtherances, as also the lets and impediments that Lovers have in their Suits. In this Book the Authour hath many glaunces at the Hypocrisie of the Clergy: whereby he got himself such hatred amongst them, that Gerson, Chancellour of Paris, writeth thus of him: saith he, There was one called Johannes Meldinensis, who wrote a Book called, The Romaunt of the Rose; which Book if I only had, and that there were no more in the World, if I might have five hundred pound for the same, I would rather burn it than take the Money. He sayeth more, That if he thought the Authour thereof did not repent him for that Book before he dyed, he would vouchsafe to pray for him no more than he would for Judas that betrayed Christ.
¶Coment Raison vient a Lamant.
¶Raisoun.
¶Lamaunt.
¶Raisoun.
¶Lamaunt.
¶Lamant.
¶Raison.
¶Comment Raison diffinist Aunsete.
In this excellent Book is shewed the fervent love of Troylus to Creiseid, whom he enjoyed for a time: and her great untruth to him again in giving herself to Diomedes, who in the end did so cast her off, that she came to great misery. In which discourse Chaucer liberally treateth of the divine purveyance.
¶The song of Troilus.
Incipit Liber Tertius.
Incipit liber quartus.
Incipit Liber Quintus.
¶The copy of the Letter.
The Testament of Creseide.
The Complaint of Creseide.
The Legend of good Women.
For that some Ladies in the Court took offence at Chaucers large speeches against the untruth of Women, the Queen enjoyned him to compile this Book in the commendation of sundry Maidens and Wives, who shewed themselves faithful to faithless men.
¶Here beginneth the legende of Cleopatras Queene of Egipt.
¶The Legend of Tisbe of Babilon.
¶The Legend of Dido, Queene of Cartage.
¶The Legend of Hipsiphile and Medea.
¶The Legende of Lucrece of Rome.
¶The Legend of Ariadne of Athens.
¶The Legende of Philomene.
¶The Legende of Phillis.
¶The Legende of Hypermestre.
¶A goodly Ballade of Chaucer.
¶Lenuoye.
Boecius de Consolatione Philosophiae.
In this Book are handled high and hard obscure Points, viz. The purveyance of God; The force of Destiny; The freedom of our Wills; and the infallible Prescience of the Almighty; and that the Contemplation of God himself is our Summum bonunt.
Carmina qui quondam studio florenti peregi Flebilis heu moestos coger inire modos.
ALas, I weeping am constrained to begin verse of sorrowful matter, y• whilom in florishing studie made delitable ditees. For lo, rending Muses of Poets, enditen to me things to be written, and drerie teates. At laste no drede ne might overcome tho muses, that they ne werren fellowes, and folowden my way, that is to say: when I was exiled, they that weren of my youth, whilom weelful and grene, comforten now sorowful wierdes of me old man: for elde is commen unwarely vpon me, hasted by the harmes that I have, and sorrow hath commaunded his age to be in me. Heeres hore aren shad overtimeliche vpon my head: and the stacke skinne trembleth of mine empted body. Thilke death of menne is weleful, y• ne commeth not in yeres that be swet, but commeth to wretches often y [...]leped: Alas, alas, with how deafe an eare death cruell turneth away from wretches, and [...]aieth for to close weepying iyen. While Fortune vnfaithfull, fauoured me with light goodes, the sorowful houre, that is to say, y• death, had almost dreint mine hedde: but now for Fortune cloudie, hath chaunged her deceiueable chere to meward, mine vnpitous life draweth along vngreable dwellings. O ye my frends, what, or whereto auaunted ye me to been wilfull? For he that hath fallen, stode in no stedfast degree.
Haec dum mecum tacitus ipse reputarem, querimoniamque lacrimabilem stili Officio designarem; astitisse mihi supra verticem visa est mulie [...] reverendi admodum vultus, oculis ardentibus, & ultra communem, &c.
IN the mean while, that I stil recorded these thynges with my self, and marked my wepely complainte, with office of poinctell: I saugh stondyng abouen the hight of mine hed a woman of full great reuerence, by semblant. Her iyen brennyng & clere, seyng ouer y• common might of men, with a liuely colour, & with soch vigour & strength y• it ne might not been nempned, all were it so y• she were full of so great age, that menne woulden not trowen in no manere that she were of our elde.
The stature of her was of doutous iudgement for sometime she constrained & shronke her seluen, like to y• common measure of men: And sometime it seemed, that she touched y• heaven, with ye hight of her hedde. And when she houe her hedde higher, she perced ye selfe heauen so that the sight of men looking was in idell: her clothes were maked of right delie thredes, & subtell craft of per durable mattier. The which clothes shee had wouen with her owne honds, as I knew well after, by her selfe declaring, & shewing to me the beauty: The which clothes a darkenesse of a forleten and dispised elde had dusked and darked, as it is wonte to darke by smoked Images.
In the netherest hemme or border of these clothes, men redde iwouen therein, a Grekish A. that signifieth the life Actiue: & aboue that letter, in y• hiest bordure, a Grekish C. y• signifieth the lyfe Contemplatife. And betwene these two letters, there were seen degrees nobly wrought in maner of ladders, by which degrees men might climben from the netherest letter to ye vpperest: nathelesse, handes of some men hadden kerue that cloth by violence or by strength, & eueriche man of hem had borne away such peces as he might getten. And forsothe this foresaid woman bare small bookes in her right hand, & in her left hand she bare a Scepter. And when she sawe these Poeticall Muses approching about my bed, and endityng wordes to my wepinges, she was a little amoued, & glowe o with cruell iyen. Who (qd. she) hath suffred approchen to this sicke man, these commen strompets, of which is the place that men callen Theatre, the which onely ne asswagen not his sorrowes [Page 357] with remedies, but they would feden and norish him with swete venime? Forsoth, that been tho that with thornes, & prickings of talentes of affections, which that been nothing fructuous nor profitable, distroyen the Come, plentuous of fruictes of reason. For they holden hartes of men in vsage, but they ne deliuer no folke fro malady. But if y• Muses had withdrawen fro me with your flatteries, any an vnconnyng & vnprofitable man, as been wont to finde commenly among y• people, I would well suffre the lasse greuously. For why, in soche an vnprofitable man, myne ententes were nothyng endammaged. But ye withdrowen fro me this man, that hath been norished in my studies or scoles of Eleaticis, & of Achademicis in Grece. But goeth now rather away yee Metmaydens, which that been swete, till it be at the last, & suffreth this man to be cured and healed by my Muses, yt is to say, by my notefull Sciences. And thus this company of muses iblamed, casten wrothly their chere douneward to the yearth, and shewing by rednesse her shame, they passeden sorowfully the threshold. And I of whom the sight plounged in teares was darked, so that I ne might not know what that woman was, of so Imperiall aucthoritie, I wo [...]e all abashed and astonied, & cast my sight doune to the yearth and began still for to abide what she would doen afterward. Then came she nere, & set her doune vpon the vtterest corner of my bed, & she beholding my chere, that was cast to the yearth, heauy & greuous of weeping, complained with these wordes (that I shall [...]aine) the perturbation of my thought.
Heu quam praecipiti mersa profundo. Mens habet, & propria luce relicta. Tendit ad externas ire tenebras. Terrenis quoties flatibus acta. Crescit in immensum noxia cura. Hic quondam coelo liber aperto, &c.
ALas, how the thought of this manne, dreinte in ouerthrowing depenesse, dulleth & foreleteth his proper cleerenesse, mintyng to gone into forayne darknesse, as oft as his anoious besinesse wexeth without measure, yt is driuen with worldly Windes. This manne that whilome was free, to whome the heauen was open and knowen, and was wont to gone in heauenly pathes, & sawe the lightnesse of the redde Sunne, and beheld ye Sterres of the cold Moone, & which Sterre in heauen vseth wandring recourses y [...]lit by diuers spheres. This man ouercomer had comprehended al this thing, by nomber of accompting in Astronomie. And ouer this, hee was wont to seken the causes, whence ye sowning windes mouen, and besien the smothe water of the Sea. And what Spirite tourneth the stable heauen, And why the Sterre riseth out of the red East, to fallen in y• westren waues. And what attempreth the lustie houres of ye first Sommer season, and highteth and apparayleth the yearth with rosie floures. And who maketh the plumtuous Autumpne, in full yeres fleeten with heauie Grapes. And eke this manne was wont to tell the diuers causes of nature that were hidde. Alas, how lightly is empted the light of his thought, & his necke is pressed with heauy chaines, and beareth his chere enclined adoune for ye great weight, & is constrained to looken on the foolish yearth.
Sed magis medicinae (inquit) tempus est quam querelae. Boe. Tum vero totis in me intenta luminibus. Philo. Tu ne ille es (ait) qui nostro quondam lacte nutritus, nostris educatus alimentis, in virilis animi robur evaseras, &c.
BUt time is now of Medicine (qd. she) more than complaint. Forsooth then shee entending to mewarde, with all ye lookyng of her iyen, saied. Art nat thou he (qd. she) yt whilom I nourished with my milke, and fostred with my meats, were escaped & commen to y• courage of a parfite man? Certes, I yaue thee soche armours, that if thou thy self ne haddest first cast hem away, they shoulden haue defended thee in sikernesse, that may not be ouercomen. Knowest thou not me? Why art thou stil? Is it for shame, or for astoniyng? It were me leuer it were for shame, but it seemeth me that astoniyng hath oppressed thee. And when she sawe me not onely still, but rather without office of tongue, and all dombe, she layed her hand softely on my breast, and saied: Here is no perill (qd. she) he is fallen into a litarge, which that is a common sicknesse to hartes that been deceiued. He hath a little foryeten himselfe. But certes, he shall lightly remembren himself, if so be that he hath knowen me er now. And that he may doen so, I will wipe his iyen a little, that be darked by the cloud of mortall things. These wordes saied she, and with the lappe of her garment, iplited in a frounce, she dried mine iyen, that weren full of the waues of my weepings.
Tunc me discussa liquerunt nocte tenebre, Luminibusque prior redit vigor. Ut cum praecipiti glomerantur sidera choro. Nimbosisque polus stetit imbribus. Sol later, ac nondum coelo venientibus astris, &c.
THus when that night was discussed away, Darknesse forlette me, and to my iyen repaired againe her first strength. And right as by ensample, as ye Sunne is hidde when the Sterres been couered with clouds, by a swift wind that hight Chorus, and the Firmament stant derked by were plungy clouds: And that the Sterres not apperen vpon ye heauen, so that the night semed sprad vpon the yearth. If then the wind that hight Boreas, isent out of the Caue of the Country of Trace, beateth this night, that is to saine, chaseth it away, & discouereth y• closed day, then shineth Phebus, ishaked with sodaine light, and smiteth with his beams in marueyling iyen.
Haud aliter tristitiae nebulis dissolutis, hausi coelum, & ad cognoscendam medicantis faciem, mentem recepi. Itaque ubi in eam deduxi oculos, intuitum (que) defixi, respicio nutricem meam, in cujus ab adolescentia, &c.
RIght so and none otherwise, the Cloudes of sorrowe dissolued, and doen awaie, I tooke heauen, and receyued mynd to knowen the face of my Phisicien: so that I sette myne iyen vpon her, and fastened my looking. I beheld my Nourice Philosophie, in whose house I had conuersed fro my youth, and I saied thus. O thou Maistresse of all vertues, discended from the soueraine seate, why art thou commen into this solitarie place of myne exile? Art thou commen, for thou art made coulpable with me of false blames. O (qd. she) my nourice, should I forsake thee now, and should I not parten with thee by commen trauayle, the charge that thou haste suffered for enuie of my name? Certes it were not lefull ne fitting to Philosophie, to leten without companie, the way of him that is innocent: Shold I then redout my blame, and agrise though there were befallen a new thing? For trowest thou that Philosophie, be now alderfirst assayled in perilles, by folke of wicked maner? Have I not striuen with full grate strife, in old time, before the age of my Plato, ayenst the foolehardinesse of foly? And eke the same Plato liuyng, his Maister Socrates, deserued victorie of vnrightfull death in my presence. The heritage of the which Socrates, the heritage, is to saine the Doctrine, of the which Socrates, in his opinion of felicite, yt I cleape welefulness: when that the people of Epicuriens and Stoiciens, and many other, enforced them to go ravish, every many for his parte, that is to saine, ye everich of hem would drawen, to the defence of his opinion, the wordes of Socrates. They as in partie of their praie, to droune me, criyng and debating there ayenst, and coruen & renten my clothes, that I had wouen with mine owne handes. And with tho clothes that they had araced out of my clothes, they wenten away, wening that I had gone with hem euery dele. In which Epicuriens & Stoiciens, for as moch as there semed some traces & steppes of my habite. The folie of wenyng tho Epicuriens & Stoiciens, my familiers, peruerted some, through ye errour of the wicked multitude of hem: This is to sain, for they semed Philosophers they weren pursued to the death and slaine. So if thou haste not knowen the exiling of Anaxagoras, ne the enpoysoning of Socrates, ne the tourments of Zeno, for they weren straungers, yet mightest thou haue knowen the Senecas, the Canios, and the Soranos: Of which folke, the renome is neither ouer olde ne vnsolempne. The whiche men nothing els ne brought to the death, but onely for they were enformed of my maners, and semeden most vnlike to the studies of wicked folk. And for thy, thou oughtest not to wondren, though that I in the bitter Sea, be driuen with tempests blowing about. In the whiche this is my moste purpose, that is to saine, to displeasen wicked men. Of whiche shrewes, all be the hoste neuer so great, it is to dispise, for it is not governed with no leader of reason, but it is rauished onely by fletyng errour, folily aud lightly. And if they sometyme make an hooste ayenst vs, assaile vs as strenger: our leader draweth together his richesses into his Toure, & they been ententife, about sarpleris or sachelles, vnprofitable for to taken. But we then been high abouen, siker from all tumulte and woode noyse, warenestored and enclosed in soche a Paleis, whither as the clatering or anoiyng folie may not attaine, we scorne soch raveners, and henters of foulest things.
Quisquis composito serenus evo, Fatum sub pedibus egit superbum: Fortunam (que) tuens utram (que) rectus, Invictum potuit tenere vultum, &c.
* WHo so it be that clear of vertue, sad, and well ordinate of living, that hath put vnder foote the proude wierdes, and looketh vpright vpon eyther Fortune, hee may holden his chere vndiscomfited.
The rages ne the manaces of the sea, commoving and chasing vnware, heate from the bottome, ne shall not move that man, ne the vnstable Mountaigne that hight Vesenus, that writheth out through his broken Chimeneis, smoking Fires, ne the way of Thonder leites that is wonte to smiten high Coures, ne shall not move that man. Whereto then wretches drede ye Tyrants, that been wood, & felonnous with any strength? * Hope after nothing, ne drede thou not: and so shalt thou disarmen ye ire of thilke vnmighty Tiraunt. But who that quaking dredeth, or desireth thing that is not stable of his right, that man that so doeth, hath cast away his shilde, and is remoued fro his place, & enlaseth him in the chaine, with the which he may be drawen.
Sentis ne (inquit) haec? Atque animo illabuntur tuo? Expers ne es lyrae? Quid fles? Quid lachrimis manas? Si operam medicantis expectas, oportet ut vulnus detegas tuum, &c.
FElest thou (qd. shee) these things? And entren they aught in thy courage? Art thou like an Asse to the Harp? Why wepest thou? Why spillest thou teares? * If thou abidest after helpe of the Leche, thee behoveth discover thy wound? Tho I had gathered strength in my courage, and aunswered and sayd: And needeth it (qd. I) of rehearsing, or of amonicion, & sheweth it not inough by himselfe, the sharpenes that wexeth woode against mee. Ne moueth it not thee to see the face, or the maner of this place? Is this the Librarie that thou haddest chosen for a right certaine liege, to thee in mine hous there as thou disputest oft with me of the Science of things, touching diuinite, and touching mankinde? [Page 359] Was then mine habite soche as it is now? was my face or chere, soche as it is now, when I sought with the secretes of nature, when thou enformedest my maners, & the reason of al my lyfe, to thensample of thorder of heauen: Is not this the guerdon that I referre to thee, to whom I have be obeysaunt? Certes, thou enformedest by ye Mouth of Plato this sentence, that is to saine: That comen things or communalties weren blisful, if they that had studied all fully to wisedome, gouerneden thilke thinges: or els it so befell, yt the gouernours of communalties, studien to get wisedome. Thou saidest eke by ye mouth of the sayd Plato, that it was a necessarie cause, wisemen to taken & desiren the gouernaunce of comen thinges, for that ye governaunce of Citees, ileft in the handes of felonous tourmentors, citizeins ne shoulden not bringen in pestilence and distruction to good folke. And therefore I followyng thilke authours, desired to put foorth in execucion & in act, of commen administracion thilke things, yt I had learned of thee emong my secrete vesting whiles, thou & GOD, y• put in the thoughts of wise folke, been knowen with me, that nothing ne brought me to mastrie or dignitie, but the common studie of all goodness. And therefore commeth it, that between wicked folke & me haue been greuous discordes, that ne mighten not bee released by Prayers: for this libertie hath the freedome of conscience, that ye wrathe of more mighty folke, hath alway been dispised of me, for sauacion of right. How oft have I resisted and withstand ye man y• hight Canigast y• made alway thassaut ayenst ye prosper fortunes of poore feoble folke? How oft eke have I put of or cast out him Triguill, Prouost of ye Kings hous, bothe of the wrongs that he had begon to doen, and eke fully performed. How often haue I couered and defended by the aucthoritie of me, put ayenst perils, yt is to saine, put myne aucthoritie in perill, for the wretched poore folke, y• the couetise of straungers vnpunished, turmenteden alway with miseases, and greuaunces out of number? Neuer man yet drowe me fro right to wrong. When I sawe the Fortunes and the richesses of the people of the Prouinces been harmed and amenused, eyther by priuy rauenes, or by commen tributes or cariages, as sory was I as they that suffreden the harme. Glose. When Theoderike King of Gothes in a dedde year had his garners full of Corn, & commaunded y• no man should buye no corne, till his corne were sold, and at a greuous dear price: Beoce withstood ye ordinaunce, & ouercame it, knowing al this ye king Theodorike himselfe. Coempcion is to say, commen achate or buiyng together, yt were established vpon the people, by soch a maner of imposicion, as who so bought a bushel of Corne, he must yeuen the king ye fiueth parte. Cextus. When it was in ye sore hongry time, there was established greuous & vnprofitable coempcion, that men seen well, it should greatly tourmenten & endomagen all the Prouince of Campaine. I tooke strise ayenst ye Prouost of the Pretorie, for ye common profite. And ye knowyng of it, I ouercame it, so that the coempcion was not asked, ne tooke effect.
Pauline a Counsailour of Roome, the richesses of the whiche Pauline, the hondes of the Paleis, that is to say, the officers woulden haue deuoured by hope and couetise: yet drowe I out of the jowes of hem that gapeden. And for as much as the payne of ye accusacion adiudged beforne, ne should not sodainly henten, ne punishen wrongfully Albine a Counsailour of Roome, I putte me ayenst the hates and indignacions of the accusour, Cyprian. Is it not then inough sens that I haue purchased great discords ayenst my self? But I ought be more assured ayenst other folke, that for ye loue of right wisenesse I neuer reserued nothing to my self, to hemward of the kings hall, by which I were the more siker. But through tho same accusours accusing, I am condempned. Of the nomber of which accusours, one Basilius that whilome was chased out of the Kings seruice, is now compelled in accusing of my name, for need of foraine money.
Also, Opilion and Gaudencius, haue accused mee: All be it so that the Iustice Regall had whilome deemed theim bothe to gon into exile, for her tretcheries and fraudes without number. To which judgement they nolden not obey, but defended hem by the sikernesse of holy houses, that is to sain, fledden into Seintewarie: And then when this was apperceyued by ye King, he commaunded, but if they auoyded the Citee of Rauenne, by certayne day assigned, that men should marken hem on the forehedde with an hote yron, and chasen hem out of the toun. Now what thing seemeth might be likened to this cruelty, for certes, this same day was receyued, the accusing of my name by thilke same accusoures? What may be saied hereto? Hath my studie and my coning deserued thus, or els the foresaied dampnacion of me, made them rightful accusours or no? Was not Fortune ashamed of this? Certes, all had not Fortune ben ashamed, that innocence was accused, yet ought she haue had shame of the filth of mine accusours. But aske thou in some, of what gilte I am accused. Men saine that I would sauen the company of ye Senatours. And desirest thou to heren in what maner I am accused, y• I should have distourbed ye accusour to bearen Letters, by which hee should haue made the Senatours giltie, ayenst the Kings royall Majestie. O Maistresse, what demest thou of this? Shal I forsake this blame that I ne no shame to thee? Certes, I haue would it (y• is to say) the sauacion of ye Senate, ne I shall neuer let to wilne it, & that I confesse & am know, but the entente of the accusour to been distourbed, shall cease. Shall I clepe that a felony or a sinne, that I [Page 360] haue desired the sanacion of the order of the Senate. And certes, had thilk same Senate doen through her decretes & her judgments, as though it were a sinne & a felony, that is to wilne the sauacion of them. But folie that lieth alway to himself, may not chaunge the merite of things, ne I trow not by the judgement of Socrates, that it were lefull to me to hide the sooth, ne assent to leasings: but certes, howsoeuer it be of this, I putte it to gessen or prisen, of the judgement of thee, & of wise folke, of which thing all ye ordinaunce and the sooth (for as much as folk that ben to comen after our days, shall knowenit) I haue putte it in Scripture, and in remembraunce. For touchyng the Letters falsely made, by which Letters I am accused to haue hoped the freedome of Rome, wt appertaineth me to speaken thereof. Of which Letters, y• fraud had been shewed apertly, if I had had libertie for to haue vsed & been at confession of mine accusours, the which thing in all needs hath great strength. For what other freedom may men hopen? Certes, I would that some other freedom might be hoped, I would then haue answered by the words of a man that hight Camus: for when he was accused of Canius, Cesar Germanes sonne, that he was knowing and consenting of a coniuration made ayenst him: This Canius aunswered thus: If I had wist it, thou haddest not wist it. In which thing sorrow hath not so dulled my witte, that I plaine onely, that shreud folke apparailen Fellonies against vertue, but I wonder greatly, how that they may perform thyngs that they haue hoped for to doen, for why ne will ne shreudnesse that commeth perauenture of our defaut. But it is like a Monster and a maruail, how that in ye present sight of God may been atcheued & performed such thyngs, as euery fellonous manne hath conceyued in his thought against innocents. For which thing, one of thy familiers, not vnskilfully, asked thus: If God is, whence commen wicked things. But al had it been leful, that fellonous folk, that now desiren the blood and the death of all good men, and eke of the Senate, haue wilned to gone destroyen me, whom they haue seen alway batailen and defenden good men, and eke all the Senate, that had not deserued of the fathers (that is to sain, of the Senatours) that they shoulden will my destruction. Thou remembrest wel as I gesse, that when I would doen or sain any thing, thou thy selfe alway present ruledest me.
At the citie of Verone, when that the king, gredie of common slaughter, cast him to transporten vpon all the order of the Senate the guilt of his royal Maiestie, of the which gilt that Albin was accused: with how great sikernesse of peril to me, defended I all the Senate: Thou wotest well that I say sooth, ne I ne auaunted me neuer in praysing of my self: For alway, when any wight receiueth precious renome in auaunting of himself or his werkes, he amenuseth the secree of his conscience.
But now thou mayest well seene to what end I am comen for mine innocencie, I receiue paine of false Fellonie, for guerdoun of very vertue. And what open confession of fellome had euer Iudges so accordaunt in crueltie, that is to sain, as mine accusing hath, that eyther errour of mans wit, or els condition of Fortune, that is vncertain unto all mortal folke, ne submitted some of hem, that is to say, that it ne enclined some Iudge to haue pitie or compassion. For although I had been accused, that I would brenne holy houses, and strangle Priests with wicked swearde, or that I had greithed death to all good men, algates the sentence should have punished me present, confessed and conuict.
But now I am remoued from ye Citie of Rome almost fiue hundred thousand paas, I am without defence dampned to proscription & to death, for the studies & bounties that I haue doen to the Senate. But o well been they worthy of merite: as who sayeth, nay, there might yet neuer none of hem be conuict of such a blame as mine is, of which trespace, mine accusours seen full well ye dignitie, for they would darken it with medling of some fellonie. They baren me on hond, and sayd, that I had pollute & defouled my conscience with Sacriledge, for couetise of dignitie: & certes, thou thy self that art planted in me, chasedest out of the siege of my courage all couetise of mortal things, ne Sacriledge ne had no leaue to haue a place in me before thine eyen. For thou droppedest euery day in mine ears, & in my thought, thilke commandment of Pythagoras, y• is to say: * Menne shall seruen to God, & not to goddes. Ne it was not conuenient, ne none need to taken help of the foulest spirits. I that thou hast ordained, and set in such excellence, that thou madest me like to God, & ouer this, the right clean secret chamber of mine house, that is to say, my wife, & the companie of mine honest friends, & my wiues father, as well holy as worthy to be reuerenced for his deeds, defenden me from al suspection of such blame. But oh malice. For they that accusen me, taken of y• Philosophy faith of so great blame, for they trowen, that I haue had affinitie to malefice or enchauntment, because that I am replenished and fulfilled with thy teachings, and enformed of thy maners. And thus it sufficeth not only, that thy reuerence ne auail me naught, but if thou of thy free will rather he blemished with mine oftencion. But certes, to y• harms y• I haue, there betideth yet this encrease of harm, that the guessing and the iudgement of much folke, ne looken nothing to ye deserts of things, but only to y• auenture of fortune, & iudgen that only such things ben purueyed of God, which y• temporal wilfulnesse commaundeth. Glosa. As thus, that if a wight haue prosperity, he is a good man, and worthy to haue that prosperitie: & who [Page 361] so hath aduersitie, he is a wicked man, and God hath forsake him, and he is worthy to haue that aduersitie. This is the opinion of some folke, and thereof commeth that good gessing, first of all thing forsaked wretches. Certes, it greeueth me to think right now, in diuers sentences that the people sayth of me: and thus much I say, * That the last charge of contrarious Fortune, is this, that when any blame is laied upon a caitife, men wenen that he hath deserued that he suffereth. And I that am put away from good men, and dispoyled of dignities, and defouled of my name by gessing, haue suffred turments for my good deeds. Certes, me seemeth, that I see the felonous couines of wicked men habounden in ioy and gladnesse, and I see, that euery lorell shapeth him to find new fraudes for to accuse good folk, and I see that good folk be ouerthrown for drede of my peril, and euery luxurious tourmentour dare doen all fellonie unpunished, & be excited there to by yefts, & innocents be not only dispoiled of sikernesse, but of defence, & therto me list to crien to God in this manner.
O stelliferi Conditor Orbis, Qui perpetuo nixus solio, Rapido Coelum turbine versas, Legemque pati sidera cogis, ut nunc pleno lucida cornu. Totis fratris obvia flammis. Condat stellas Luna minores: Nunc obscuro pallida cornu Phoebo proprior lumina perdat, &c.
THou maker of the wheele that beareth the sterres, which that art fastened to thy perdurable chaire, and turnest the heauen with a rauishing sweigh, and constrainest the sterres to suffer thy Law: so that the Moon sometime shining with her ful horns, meeting with all the beames of the Sun her brother, hideth the sterres that been lesse. And sometime, when the Moon pale, with her dark horns, approcheth the Sun, leseth her lights: and that the euin sterre Hesperus, which that in the first time of the night, bringeth first her cold arising, cometh eft ayen her used course, and is pale by ye morrow at rising of the Sun, and is then icleped Lucifer. Thou restrainest the day by shorter dwelling, in the time of the cold Winter, that maketh the leaues fall. Thou diuidest the swift tides of the night, when the hote Summer is commen. Thy might attempreth the variaunt seasons of the yeare, so that Zepherus, the debonaire wind, bringeth ayen in the first Summer season the leaues that the wind that hight Boreas hath rest away in Autumne, that is to say, the last end of Summer: and the seeds that the sterre that hight Arcturus sew, be woxen high corns, when the sterre Sirius enchaseth hem. There is nothing unbounden from this old Law, ne forletteth the werk of his proper estate.
O thou gouernour, gouerning all things by certain end, why refulest thou only to gouern the werks of men by due manner: Why suffrest thou, y• sliding fortune turneth so great enterchaunges of things, so that annoyous paine that should duly punish Felons, punisheth Innocents: And folk of wicked manners sitten in high chaires, and annoying folke, treden (and that unrightfully) on the necks of holy men. And vertue clere and shining naturally, is hid in derk derknesses, and the rightfull man beareth the paine and the blame of the fellons. Ne the forswearing, ne the fraud couerd and kempt with a false colour, ne annoieth not to shrewdnesse, the which shrewdnesse, when hem list usen her strength, they reioycen hem to put under hem the soueraigne kings, which that the people without number dreden. O thou, whatsoeuer thou be that knittest all bonds of things, look on these wretched earths, we men that been not a foule partie, but a faire part of so great a werke, we been tourmented in this see of fortune. Thou gouernor, withdraw and restraine the rauishing floods, and fasten and ferme these earths stable, with thilke bond, with which thou gouernest heauen, that is so large.
Haec ubi continuato dolore delatravi: illa vultu placido, nihilque meis questubus mota. Phi. Cum te (inquit) moestum, lachrymantemque vidissem: illico miserum exulemque cognovi. Sed quam id longinquum esser exilium.
WHen I had with a continual sorrowe sobbed, or broken out these thinges, she with her chere pesible and nothing amoved with my complaints, said thus. When I saw thee (qd. she) sorrowful and weeping, I wist anon that thou were a wretch & exiled: But I wist neuer how ferre thine exile was, if thy tale ne had yshewed it me. But certes, all be thou ferre fro thy countrey, thou nart not putte out of it, but thou hast fayled of thy way, and gone amisse. And if thou hast leuer for to wene that thou be put out of thy country, then hast thou put out thy selfe, rather than any other wight hath: for no wight (but thou thy selfe) ne might neuer haue done that to thee. For if thou remember thee of what countrey thou art borne, it nis not gouerned by Emperours, ne by gouernment of multitude, as weren ye countries of hem of Athens: but one Lord, & one King, and that is God, that is Lord of thy country, which y• reioyseth him of the dwelling of his citizens, and not for to put hem in exile. Of ye which Lord, it is a feeedome to be gouerned by y• bridle of him, & obey to his iustice. Hast thou forgotten thilke old law of thy citie, in the which citie it is ordained and established, That what wight hath leuer found therin his [...]eat or his house, than els where, he may nat be exiled by no right from that place? For who so that is contained within the paleis of thilk city, there is no drede that he may deserue to be exiled. But who that letteth the will tenhabit there, he forletteth also to deserue to be a citezein of [Page 362] thilke citie. So yt I say, that the face of this place ne moueth me not so mikell, as thine owne face. Ne I ne aske not rather ye wals of thy librarie, apparailed and wrought with yuorie and with glasse, than after the seat of thy thoght, in which I put nat whilom books, but I put that that maketh bookes worthy of price, or precious, yt is to say, sentence of my bookes. And certainly, of thy deserts bestowed in common good, thou hast said sooth, but after ye multitude of thy good deeds, thou hast said few. And of ye honestie or of ye falsenesse of things that ben opposed against thee, thou hast remembred things that be knowne to all folke. And of the felonies and frauds of thine accusours, it seemeth thee to haue touched it, forsooth rightfully and shortly, all mighten tho same things better and more plenteously been couth in the mouth of the people, that knoweth all this. Thou haste eke blamed greatly & complained of the wrongfull deed of the Senate. And thou hast sorrowed for my blame, & thou hast wopen for the dommage of thy renoun that is apaired, and thy last sorrow enchased ayen fortune, complaynest the guerdons, ne be not euenly yolden to the deserts of folke. And in thy latter end of thy wood muse, thou prayedst that thilke peace yt governeth the heauen, should governe the earth. But for that many tribulations of affections have assailed thee, & sorrow, and ire, and weping, to draw thee diversly, as thou art now feeble of thought, mightier remedies ne shullen not yet touchen thee, for wch we willen somdele usen lighter medecines, so so that thilke passions that be waxen hard in swelling, by perturbations flowing into thy thoght, mowen waxe easie & soft, to receiue ye strength of a more mightie & more eagre medicine, by an easier touching.
Cum Phoebi radiis grave Cancri sidus inaestuat, Tum qui largo negantibus, Sulcis semina credidit, Elusus Cereris fide, Quarnas pergat ad arbores. Nunquam purpureum nemus lecturus violas petas, &c.
WHen that the heauie sterre of the Cancre enchaseth by the beams of Phebus, that is to sayne, When that Phebus ye sunne is in the signe of Cancre, who so yeueth then largely his seeds to the fields that refusen to receiue hem, let him gone beguiled of trust that he had to his corne, to Achornes of Okes. If thou wilt gather Violets, ne goe thou nat to ye purple wood, when the field chirkinge, agriseth of colde, by the felenesse of the winde, that hight Aquilone. If thou desire or wilt vsen grapes, ne seek thou nat a gluttons honde to strayne and presse the stalkes of the vine in the first Summer season. For Bacchus the god of wine, hath rather yeuen his yeftes to Autumne, the latter ende of summer. * God tokeneth and assygneth the times, abling hem to her proper offices, ne he suffereth not the stounds, which that himselfe hath deuided and constrayned to beene imedled togider: and for thy, he that forletteth certaine ordinaunce of doing by ouerthrowing way, he ne hath no glad issue or ende of his werkes.
Primum igitur, pateris ne me pauculis rogationibus statum tuae mentis attingere, atque tentare? ut quis modus sit tuae curationis intelligam, &c.
FIrst wouldest thou suffer mee to touch and assay the estate of thought by a few demaunds, so yt I may understond by the maner of thy curacion? Aske me (qd. I) at thy will, that thou wolt, & I shall answer. Tho sayd she thus: Whether wenest thou (qd. she) that this world be gouerned foolishly by haps & fortunes, or els wenest thou that there be in it any gouernement of reason? B. Certes (qd. I) I ne trowe nat in no manner, yt so certain things should bee mooued by Fortunous fortune. But I wote well, that God, maker & maister, is gouernour of his werk, ne was neuer yet day that might put me out of the soothnesse of that sentence. P. So is it (qd. shee) for ye same thing sang thou a little here beforne, and bewailedest and weptest, that onely men were put out of the cure of God, for of all other things thou ne doubtest nat, that they nere gouerued by reason. But ough, I wonder certes greatly why yt thou art sicke, sens that thou art put in so holsome a sentence: But let vs seeken deeper, I conjecte, that there lacketh I not what. But say me this. Sens that thou ne doubtest not yt this world be gouerned by God, with which gouernaile takest thou heed that it is gouerned? Vnneth (qd. I) know I ye sentence of thy question, so that I ne may not yet answeren to thy demands. I was not deceiued (qd. she) yt there ne failed somewhat, by which ye maladie of perturbation is crept into thy thought, so as the strength of thy paleis shining is open: but say me this. Remembrest thou wt is ye end of things, & whider the entention of all kind tendeth? I haue heard told it some time (qd. I) but drerinesse hath dulled my memorie. Certes (qd. she) thou wotest well whence all things be comen, & proceden. I wote well (qd. I) & aunswerde, that God is beginning of all. And how may this be (qd. she) ye sens thou knowest the beginning of thinges, yt thou knowest nat what is ye end of thinges, but suche beene ye customes of perturbation, and this power they han, yt they may moue a man from his place, that is to say, from y• stablenesse and perfection of his knowing: but certes, they may nat al arace him, ne alien him in all: but I would yt thou woldest answere to this. Remembrest thou yt thou art a man? B. Why should I not remember yt (qd. I.) Phi. Mayst thou not tell me then (qd. she) what thing is a man? Asketh thou not me (qd. I) whether yt I be a reasonable mortall [Page 363] beast, I wote well and confesse that I am it. Wilt thou neuer yet that thou were any other thing (qd. she.) No (qd. I.) Now well know I (qd. she) other cause of thy malady, and that right great: Thou hast left for to knowen thy selfe what thou art, through which I haue plainly founden the cause of thy malady, or els the entre of recouering of thy heale. For why? For thou art confounded with foryeting of thy selfe: For thou sorowdest that thou art exiled of thy proper goods. And for thou ne wist what is the end of things, for thy, demest thou that fellonous and wicked men be mightie and welefull: and for thou hast foryetten by which gouernments the world is gouerned, for thy, wenest thou that these mutations of fortune fleten without gouernour. These ben the causes not only to malady, but certes gret causes to death: But I thanke the actour and the maker of heale, that nature hath not all forleten thee. I haue great norishing of thine heale, and that is the sooth sentence of gouernaunce of the world, that thou beleeuest, that the gouerning of it is not subiect ne underput to the folly of these haps auenturous, but to the reason of God: and therfore doubt thee nothing, for of this little sparke thine heat of life shall shine. But for as much as it is not time yet of faster remedies, and the nature is of thoughts thus deceiued, that as oft as they cast away sooth opinions, they clothen hem in false opinions. Of the which false opinions, the derkenesse of perturbation wexeth up, that confoundeth the very insight. And that darknesse shall I somewhat assay to maken thinne and weak, by light and meaneliche remedies, so that after that the darkenesse of deceyuing things be done away, thou may know the shining of very light.
Nubibus atris condita nullum fundere possunt sidera lumen. Si mare voluens turbidus auster misceat estum: Vitrea dudum, Parque serenis, &c.
THe sterres couered with black clouds ne mow yeten adowne no light, if the troubled wind that hight Auster, turning and wallowing the sea, medeleth the heat, that is to saine, the boyling up from the botome. The waues that were whylome clear as glasse, and like to the faire bright dayes, withstand anon the sights of men, by the filth and ordure that is resolued. And the fleeting stream that reileth doun diuersly from high mountaignes, is arrested and resisted oft time by the encounteriog of a stone, that is departed and fallen from some roch. And for thy, if thou wilt looken and deeme sooth with cleare light, and holden the way with a right path, weiue thou ioy, driue fro drede, fleme thou hope, ne let no sorow approch, that is to saine, Let none of these foure passions ouercome or blend thee. For cloudie & derke is thilke thought, & bound with bridles, where as these things reignen.
Post haec paulisper obticuit, atque ubi attentionem meam modesta taciturnitate collegit, sic exhorsa est. Si poeuitus egritudinis tuae causas, habitumque, &c.
AFter this she slint a little, and after that she had gadered by a temper stylnesse mine attencion, as who so might saine thus: After these thynges shee slint a little, and when she apperceiued by a temper stilnesse, that I was ententiue to hearen her, she began to speake in this wise. If I (qd. she) haue understonden and knowen utterly the causes and the habite of thy maladye, thou languishest, and art defected for desire and talent of thy rather fortune. She that ilke Fortune onely, that is chaunged as thou fainest to thee ward, hath peruerted the clerenesse and the estate of thy courage. I understonding the felle or manyfold colours and deceits of thilke maruailous monster Fortune, and how she useth full flattering familiaritie with hem that she enforceth to beguile, so long, till that she confound with unsufferable sorrow hem that she hath left in despaire, unpurueyed. And if thou remembrest well the kind, the manners, and the desert of thilke Fortune, thou shalt well knowe, that as in her thou neuer ne haddest ne haste yloste anie fayre thing: But (as I trowe) I shall not greatly trauailen to done thee remembren on these thinges. For thou were wont to hurtelen and despisen her with manly wordes, when she was blandishing and present, and pursudest her with sentences that weren drawen out of mine entre, that is to say, of mine enformacion: but no suddaine mutacion ne betideth not without a manner chaunging of courages. And so it is befall, that thou art a little departed fro y• peace of thy thought, but now is time yt thou drinke & atast some soft and delitable things, so that when they be entered within thee, it mowen make way to strenger drinkes of medecines. Come now forth therefore the suasion of sweetnesse rethorien, which that goeth onely the right way, while she forsaketh not mine estatutes. And with Rhetorike, come forth Musicke, a damosel of our house, that singeth now lighter moods or prolacions, and now heauier. What eyleth thee man? What is it that hath cast thee into mourning & into weeping? I trow that thou hast seen some new thing and uncouth? Thou wenest that fortune be chaunged ayen me, but thou wenest wrong, if that thou wene alway tho been her manners. She hath rather kept as to thee ward her proper stablenesse in the changing of her selfe: right such was she, when she flattered thee and deceiued thee with unleful likings aud false wilfulnesse. Thou hast now knowen and atteint the doubtous or double visage of thilke blind goddesse Fortune. She that yet couereth and wimpleth her to other folke, hath shewed her selfe euery dele to thee: [Page 364] If thou approuest her, & thinkest, that she is good, use her manners, & plain thee nat, and if thou agrisest her false trecherie, despise and cast away her y• plaieth so harmfully, for she that is now cause of so much sorrow to thee, shuld be to thee cause of peace & of ioy. She hath forsaken thee forsooth, y• which that neuer man may be siker, y• she ne shall forsaken him. Glose. But nathelesse, some books haue the text thus. For sooth she hath forsaken thee, ne there nis no man siker, y• she ne hath not forsaken. Holdest thou then thilk welefulnesse precious to thee that shall passen? and is present fortune dere worth to thee, which yt nis not faithfull for to dwell, and when she goeth away, that she bringeth a wight in sorow? For sens she may not bee withholden at a mans will, she maketh him a wretch when she departeth fro him. What other thing is fleeting fortune, but a manner shewing of wretchednesse that is to come. Ne it suffiseth not only to looken on thing that is present before the eyen of a man, but wisdom looketh and measureth the end of things, and the same changing from one to another, that is to sain, from aduersitie into prosperitie, maketh that the menaces of fortune ne been not for to dreden, ne the flattering to be desired. Thus at last it be hooueth the [...] to suffren with euell will in pacience, all that is done within the floore of fortune, that is to lay, in this world, sith thou half ones put thy neck vnder y• yoke of her. For if thou wolt writen a law of wending and of dwelling to Fortune, which that thou hast chosen freely to ben thy lady: Art thou nat wrongful in that, and makest Fortune wroth and asper by thine impacience, and yet thou mayest nat chaungen her?
If thou committest and betakest thy fails to the wind, thou shalt be shouen, nat thider that thou wouldest, but whider that the wind shoueth thee. If thou castest thy seeds in the fields, thou shouldest haue in mind, that the yeares been amongs other while plentuous, and other whiie barrein. Thou hast betaken thy self to the gouernaunce of Fortune, and for thy, it behooueth thee to been obeysant to the maners of thy lady. Enforcest thou thee to arresten or withholden the swiftnesse & the sweigh of her tourning wheel? O thou fool of all mortal fools, if Fortune began to dwell stable, she ceased then to ben Fortune.
Haec cum superba verterit vices dextra, Ex aestuantis more fertur Euripi. Dudum tremen dos seva proterit reges, Humilemque victi sublevat fallax vultum. Non illa dura miseros audit, haud curat flerus, &c.
WHen Fortune with a proud right hand withtourned her chaunging stounds, she fareth like the manners of the boiling Euripe.
Glosa. Euripe is an arme of the sea, that ebbeth and floweth, and somtime the streme is on o side, and somtime on that other.
Text. She cruell Fortune casseth adown kings, that whylome weren ydrade, and she deceiuable, enhaunseth vp the humble there of him that is discomfited: ne she neither heareth ne recketh of wretched weepings. And she is so hard, that she laugheth and scorneth the weeping of hem, the which she hath maked to weep with her free will. Thus she playeth & thus she proueth her strengths, and sheweth a great wonder to all her seruants, if that a wight is seen welefull, and ouerthrowne in an houre.
Vellem autem pauca tecum, Fortunae ipsius verbis agitare. Tu igitur an jus postulet animadverte. P. Quid tu ô homo ream me agis quotidianis querelis, &c.
CErtes, I would pleaden with thee a few things, vsing the words of Fortune: take heed nowe thy self, if that she ask right. O thou man, wherefore makest thou me giltie by thine euery dayes plainings?
What wrong haue I done thee? wt goods haue I beraft thee, that were thine? Striue or plete with me before what judge that thou wilt, of the possession, of richesses, or of dignities, and if thou maiest shewen me, that euer any mortall manne hath receyued any of tho things, to ben his in proper, then will I grant freely, yt thilk things were thine, which that thou askest. When that nature brought thee forth out of thy mothers womb, I receiued thee naked and needie of all things, and I nourished thee with all my richesses, & was ready and ententife through my fauour to sustain thee: and that maketh thee now impacient ayenst me. And I enuironned thee with all haboundance and shining of all goods, that been in my right: now it liketh me to withdraw mine hond. Thou hast had grace as he that hath vsed forraign goods. Thou hast no right to plain thee, as though thou haddest vtterly forlorn all thy things. Why plainest thou then? I haue done to thee no wrong: richesses, honours, and such other things ben of my right: my seruants known me for her lady: they come with me, and departen when I wend. I dare well affirm hardly, that if tho things, of which thou plainest that thou hast forlorn, had been thine, thou ne hadst not forlorn hem. Shall I then be defended only to vse my right? Certes, it is lefull to the heauen to make clear days, and after that, to ouercome tho same days with derk nights. The year hath eke leaue to apparaile the visage of the earth, now with floures, and now with fruit, and to confound hem sometime with rains and with cold.
The see hath eke his right, to ben somtime caulm and blandishing, with smooth water, and sometime to be horrible, with waues and with tempests. But couetise of men, yt may not be stanched, shal it bind me to be stedfast, sithen yt stedfastnesse is vncouth to my manners. [Page 365] Such is my strength, and such play I play commonly. I turn the whirling wheele with the turning circle, I am glad to changen the lowest to the highest, & the highest to the lowest. Worth up if thou wolt, so it be by this law, yt thou ne hold nat that I do thee wrong, though thou discend adown, when ye reason of my play asketh it. Wost thou not how Cresus, king of Lidians, of which king Cyrus was ful sore agast, a little beforne that this Cresus was caught of Cyrus, & ledde to the fire to be brend, but that a rain discended from heauen, that rescowed him? And it is out of mind, how that Paulus, Consul of Rome, when he had taken the king of Perciens, weped pitously for the captivitie of ye self king? What other thing bewaylen the cryings of tragedies, but only the deeds of fortune, yt with an aukward stroke ouertourneth the realmes of great nobley. Glose. Tragedie is to saine, a ditee of a prosperitie for a time, that endeth in wretchednesse. Lernedest not thou in Grece when thou were young, that in the entre or in the seller of Iupiter, ther ben couched two tonnes, that one is full of good, that other is full of harme? What right hast thou to plaine, if thou hast taken more plentuously of the good side, that is to sain, of richesse, & prosperite? And what eke if I be not all departed fro thee? What eke if my mutabilitie yeueth thee rightful cause of hope to haue yet better things? nathelesse, dismay thee not in thy thought. And thou yt art put in the commune realm of all, ne desire not to liuen by thine own proper right.
Si quantas rapidis flatibus incitus Pontus versat arenas. Aut quot stellifei is edita noctibus Coelo Sidera fulgent: Tantas fundat opes, nec retrahat manum pleno copia cornu: Humanum miseras haud ideo genus cesset flere querelas, &c.
THough plentie, goddesse of riches, hylde a downe with a full horne, and withdrawe not her hand, as many richesse as the see tourneth upward sands, when it is moued with rauishing blasts, or els, as many richesses as there shinen bright sters in the heauen on the sterrie nights: yet for all that, mankinde nolde not cease to weepe wretched plaints. And all be it so, that God receyued her prayers, and yeueth hem as full large much gold, and apparaileth couetous folke with noble or clere honors: yet seemeth him haue gotten nothing. But alway cruel rauine deuouring all that they haue gotten, sheweth other gapings, that is to say, gapen and desiren yet after mo richesses. What bridles might withholden to any certaine end the disordinant couetie of men, when euer the rather that it fleteth in large yefts, the more brenneth in hem the lust of hauing? Certes, * He that quaking and dredefull weneth himselfe needy, he ne liueth neuermore rich.
His igitur, si pro se tecum, verbis fortuna loqueretur, quid profecto contrahisceres, non haberes. At si quid est, quo querelam tuam jure tuearis, proferas oportet.
THerefore if that fortune speak with thee for her self in this manner, forsooth thou ne hadst nat what thou mightest answere. And if thou hast any thing wherewith thou mayest rightfully defenden thy complaint, it behooueth thee to shewen, and I woll yeuen to thee space to tellen it. Boecius. Certainely (qd. I then) these been faire thinges, and annoynted with honey, sweetnesse of Rhethorike and Musick, and only while they been heard and sowne in eares, they been delicious. But to wretches it is a deeper felyng of harme, this is to sayne, that wretches feelen the harmes that they suffer more greeuously, than the remedies or the delights of these words may gladden or conforten hem: So that when these thinges stinten for to sown in eares, that sorrow that is inset, greueth ye thought. P. Right so it doth (qd. she.) For these ne been yet no remedies of the maladie, but they been a manner nourishing of thy sorrowes, that rebell ayenst thy curacion. For when time is, I shall moue and ajust such things that peircen hem full deep. But nathelesse that thou shalt not wilne to leten thy self a wretch. Hast thou foryeten the number and the manner of thy welefulnesse, I speak not how that the soueraign men of the Citie tooke thee in cure and keeping, when. thou were orphelyn of father and of mother, and were chosen in affinitie of princes of the citie, And thou beganne rather to be lefe & deare, than for to be a neyghbour, the which thyng is the most precious kind of any propinquitie or alliaunce that may been. Who is it that ne sayed tho, that thou ne were right welefull, with so great nobley as thy fathers in law, and with the chastitie of thy wife, and with the opportunity and noblesse of thy masculine children, that is to sayne, thy sonnes? And ouer all this (me list to passen of common things) how thou haddest in thy youth dignities, that were warned to old men: but it deliteth me now to commen to the singular up-heaping of thy welefulnesse. If any fruite or mortal thynges may haue any wight or price of welefulnesse, mightest thou euer foryeten for any charge of harme whiche might befall, the remembraunce of thilke day, that thou saw thy two sons made counsailours, and ladde together from thy house under so great assemble of Senatours, and under the blithnesse of the people? And when thou saw hem set in the court in high chaires of dignities. Thou Rhetorien or pronouncer of kings praisings, deseruedest glory of wit and of eloquence, when thou sitting between thy two sons, counsaylours, in the place that hight Circo, and fulfille dest the bidding of the multitude of people that was spradde about thee [Page 366] with so large praysing and laud, as men sing in victories. Tho yaue thou to Fortune, as I trowe, that is to say, tho feoffedest thou Fortune with glorious words, & deceiue dest her when she acoyed and nourished thee as her own delices. Thou bare away of Fortune a yest, y• is to say, such guerdon that she neuer yaue to private man. Wilt thou therefore lay a reckning with Fortune? She hath now first twidckled vpon thee with a wicked eye. If thou consider the number and the manner of thy blisses and of thy sorows, thou mayest nat forsaken, that nart yet blisful. For if therfore thou wenest thy self not welefull for tho things that seemeden joyfull, ben passed, there nis not why thou shouldest seem thy self a wretch, for things that semed now sorry, passen also. Art thou now commen a suddain ghest into the shaddow or tabernacle of this life? or trowest thou that any stedfastnesse be in mans things? When oft a swift hour dissolueth the same man, that is to say, when the soul departed from the body. For although, that selde is there any faith that fortunous things would dwellen: yet nathelesse, the last day of a mans life is a manner death to Fortune, and also to thike that hath dwelt. And therefore what wenest thou doth recke, if thou forlet her in dying, or els that she Fortune forlete thee in flyen away.
Cum polo Phebus, roseis quadrigis Lucem spergere caeperit, Pallet albentes hebetara vultus Flammis stella permentibus, &c.
WHen Phebus the Sunne beginneth to spreade his clearenesse with Rosen charriots, then the sterre dimmed, paleth her white cheres by the flames of the sunne that ouer commeth the sterre light: that is to sayne, when the sunne is risen, the day-sterre wexeth pale, and leseth her light. For the great lightnesse of the sunne, when the wood wexeth rodie of rosen flours in ye first Summer season, through the breath of the winde Zepherus, that wexeth warme: if the cloudie winde Auster blowe fell liche, then goeth away fairenesse of thornes. Oft the see is clere and caulme with mouing floodes, and oft the horrible wind Aquilon moueth boyling tempest, and ouer whelueth the sea. If the forme of this worlde is so selde stable, and if it turneth by so many enterchaunges, wilt thou then trusten in the tumblynge fortunes of men? Wilt thou trowen on fleeting goods? It is certaine, and established by law perdurable, that nothing that is engendred, is stedfast ne stable.
Tum ego, vera inquam, commemoras ô virtutum omnium nutrix: nec inficiati possum prosperitatis meae velocissimum cursum. Sed hoc est, quid, &c.
THen saied I thus: O nourice of all vertues, thou sayest full sooth, ne I may not forsake the right swifte course of my prosperitye, that is to saine, that the prosperitye ne be commen to me woonder swiftly and soone. But this is a thing that greatly smarteth me, when it remembreth me: For in all aduersities of Fortune, the most vnselie kind of contrarious Fortune, is to haue been welefull. Phi. But that thou abiest thus (qd. she) yt tourment of thy false opinion, that maist thou not rightfully blamen, ne aretten to things, as who sayeth, that thou hast yet many haboundances of things. Textus. For all be it so, that the idle name of aduenturous welefulnesse moueth thee now, it is lefull, that thou recken with me of how many thynges thou hast yet plentie. And therfore, if yt thilk thing that thou haddest for more precious, in all thy richesse of Fortune, be kept to thee, yet by the grace of God, vnwemmed & vndefouled: mayest thou then plaine rightfully vpon the mischeefe of Fortune, sithen thou hast yet thy best thinges? Certes, yet liueth in good point thilke precious honor of mankind, Symachus thy wives father, which yt is a man made of all Sapience and Vertue, the which man thou wouldst buy with the price of thine owne life, he bewayleth the wrongs that men doen to thee, & not for himself: For he liueth in sikernesse of any Sentence put ayenst him. And yet liueth thy wife, that is attempre of wit, & passing other women in cleanenesse of chastitie: and for I would close. [...] shortly her hounties, she is like her father: I tell thee yt she liueth, loth of this life, and keepeth to thee only her ghost, and is all mate and ouercome by weeping and sorrow, for desire of thee. In the which thing only, I mote graunten thee, yt thy welefulnesse is amenused. What shall I saine eke of thy two sons, counsaylours, of which, as of children of her age, there shineth the likenesse of the wit of her father, and of her elde father? And sithen the souerain cure of all mortall folk, is to sauen her own liues, if thou know thy self, thy goods make thee more welefull. For yet ben there things dwelled to thee ward, that no man doubteth, that they ne been more deereworth to thee, than thine own life. And for thy, drie tears, for yet is not euery Fortune hatefull to thee ward: ne ouergreat tempest ne hath not yet fallen vpon thee, when thine ankers cleven fast, that neither woll sufferen ye comfort of this time present, ne the hope of time coming, to passen ne to failen. Bo. And I pray (qd. I) that fast mote they holden: for ye whiles that they holden, howsoeuer that things been, I shall well fleten forth and escapen. But thou maist well seen, how great apparailes and array that me lacked, that be passed away fro me. Phi. I haue somewhat aduanced & furthered thee (qd. she) if yt thou annoy not, or forthink not of all thy fortune, as who saith, I haue somewhat comforted thee, so yt thou tempest not thee thus with all thy fortune, sithen thou hast yet thy best thyngs. But I may not fuffren thy delices, y• plainest so weeping & anguishous, for that there lacketh somewhat to [Page 367] thy welefulnesse. For what man is he that is so sad, or of great perfite welefulnesse, that he ne striueth and playneth on some half ayen the qualitie of his estate?* For why, full anguishous thing is ye condicion of mans goods. For eyther it commeth not all together to a wight, or els it ne lasteth not perpetuell. For some man hath great richesse, but he is ashamed of his vngentill linage. And some man is renomed of noblesse of kinrede, but he is inclosed in so great anguish of need of things, yt him were leuer that he were vnknow. And some man haboundeth both in richesse and noblesse, but yet he bewayleth his chast life, for he ne hath no wife. And some man is, & selily maried, but he hath no children, & nourisheth his richesses to straunge folk. And some man is gladded with children, but he weepeth full sore for the trespace of his son, [...]or of his doughter. And for this there ne accordeth no wight lightly to yt condicion of his fortune. For alway, to euery man there is in somwhat that vnassayed, he ne wote nought, or els he dreadeth that he hath assayed. And add this also, that euery welefull man hath a full delicate feeling: so that but if all things befallen at his own will, he is impacient, or is not vsed to haue none aduersitie, anon he is throwen adown for euery little thing: and full little things been tho, that withdrawn the summe or the perfection of blisfulnesse, fro hem that been most fortunate. How many men trowest thou, would deemen hemselfe to ben almost in heauen, if they mighten attain to the least partie of the remenaunt of thy fortune? This same place, that thou cleapest exile, is countrey to them that enhabiten here. And for thy, nothing wretched, but when thou wenest it: as who saith, thou thy self, ne no wight els nis a wretch, but when he weneth himself he is a wretch, by reputation of his courage. And ayenward, all fortune is blisful to a man, by the agreeabilitie or by the egalitie of him that suffereth it. What man is that, that is so weleful, that nold changen his estate when he hath lost his pacience? The sweetnesse of mans welefulnesse, is sprant with many bitternesses. The which welefulnesse, although it seem sweet and joyful to him that vseth it, yet may it not been withholden, that it ne goeth away when it woll. Then it is well seen, how wretched is the blisfulnesse of mortal things, that neither it dureth perpetuel with hem, that euery fortune receiuen agreeably or egally, ne it deliteth not in all to hem that ben anguishous. O ye mortal folk, what seek ye then blisfulnesse out of your own self, which is put in your self? Errour and folly confoundeth you. I shall shew thee shortly the point of soueraign blisfulnesse.
Is there any thing to thee more precious than thy life? Thou wilt aunswere, nay. Then, if it so be, that thou art mightie ouer thy self, that is to sain, by tranquilitie of thy soul, then hast thou thing in thy power, that thou noldest neuer lesen: Ne Fortune may not bynemme it thee. And that thou maist know that blisfulnesse ne may not stand in thyngs that been fortunous and temporell, nowe vnderstande and gather it together thus. If blisfulnesse be the soueraign good of nature, that liueth by reason: ne thilke thing is not soueraign good, that may be taken away in any wise.
For more worthie thing is, and more dign thilke thing, that may not be taken away. Then sheweth it well, that the vnstablenesse of Fortune may nat attayne to receyue very blisfulnesse. And yet moreouer, what manne that this tumbling welefulnesse leadeth, eyther he wote that it is changeable, or els he wote it not? And if he wote it not, what blisful fortune may there been in the blindnesse of ignoraunce? And if he wote that it is chaungeable, he mote alway ben adrad, that he ne lese that thing, that he ne doubteth not but that he may lesen it. As who fayth, he mote alway be agast, least he lese that, that he woteth right well he may lese. For which, the continuall dread that he hath, ne suffereth him not to be welefull. Or els if he lese it, he weneth to be dispised and foreleten. Certes, eke that is a full little good, that is born with euen hart, when it is lost, that is to sain, that men do no more force of the losse, than of the hauing. And for as much as thou thy self art he, to whom it hath be shewed, & preued by full many demonstrations, as I wote well, that the souls of men ne mowen not dien in no wise. And eke sens it is cleare and certain, yt fortunous welefulnesse endeth by the death of the body: it may not be doubted, that if death may take away blisfulnesse, that all y• kind of mortal thing ne descendeth into wretchednesse, by the end of death. And sithen we know well, that many a man hath sought the fruit of blisfulnesse, not only with suffering of death, but eke with suffering of pains and tourments: how might then this present life make men blisfull, sens that thilk self life ended, it ne maketh folk no wretches.
WHat manner of folk, ware and stable, that woll founden hem a perdurable seat, and ne will not be cast down with the lowde blasts of the wind Eurus, and will despise the Sea, menasing with floudes: let him eschew to builden on the coppe of the Mountain, or in the moist Sands. For if the fell wind Auster tormenteth the coppe of the Mountains with all her strengths, and the lose sands refusen to bear the heauy weights. And for thy, if thou wolt flien the perillous [Page 368] aduenture, that is to say, of the world, haue mind certainly to set thine house of a merrie seat in a low stone. For although the wind troubling the sea, thunder with ouerthrowing, thou that art put in quiet, and welefull, by strength of thy palleis, shalt lead a clear age, scorning the woodnesse and the ires of the aire.
Sed quoniam rationum jam in te mearum fomenta discendunt, paulo validioribus utendum puto. Age enim. Si jam caduca ac momentaria fortunae, &c.
BVt for as much as the nourishings of my reason discenden now into thee, I trow it were time to vsen a little stronger medicines. Now vnderstand here, all were it so, that the yefts of Fortune ne were not brittle, ne transitorie, what is there in hem that may be thyne in any time? Or els, that it ne is foul, if that it be looked and considered perfitly. Richesses, been they precious by the nature of hemself, or els by the nature of thee? What is most worth of richesse? Is it not gold, or might of money assembled? Tertes, that gold and that money shineth, and yeueth better renome to them that dispenden it, than to thilk folk that muckeren it: for auarice maketh alway muckerers to ben hated, and largesse maketh folk clere of renome. For sith that such things as ben transferred from one man to another, ne may not dwell with no man: Certes, then is that money precious, when it is translated into other folk, & stinten to be had by vsage of large yeuing, of him that hath yeuen it. And also, if all the money that is ouer all, in all the world, were gadered toward one man, it should make all other men to be needie, as of that. And certes, a voice all hole, yt is to sain, without amenusing, fulfilleth together the hearing of much folk. And when they ben apassed, needs they maken hem poor, that forgone tho richesses.
O, strait and needy clepe I these richesses, sens yt many folk ne may not haue it all, ne all ne may it not commen to one man, without pouertie of all other folk. And the shining of gems, that I call precious stones, draweth it not the eyen of folk to hemward, that is to sain, for the beautie? But certes, if there were beautie or bountie in shining of stones, thilk clearnesse is of the stones hemself, and not of men. For which I wonder greatly, that men maruailen on such things. For why, what thing is it, that if it wanteth moouing, and joyncture of soule and bodye, that by right might seemen a fair creature to him that hath a soul of reason. For all be it so, yt gems drawn to hemself a little of the last beautie of the world, through thentent of her creator and y• distinction of hemself: yet for as mikel as they ben put vnder your excellence, they ne haue not deserued by no way, that ye should maruailen on hem. And the beautie of fields, delighteth it not mikell vnto you?
B. Why should it not delighten vs, sith that it is a right fayre porcion of the right fayre werke, that is to sayne, of this world? And right so been we gladded sometime of y• face of the sea, when it is clear: And also maruailen we on the Heauen, and on the Starres, and on the Sunne, and on the Moone. Phi. Appertaineth (qd. she) any of thilk things to thee? Why darest thou glorifie thee in the shining of anye such thyngs? Art thou distingued and embelised by the springing floures of the first Summer season? Or swelleth thy plentie in fruits of Summer? Why art thou rauished with idle joys? Why embracest thou strange goods, as they were thine? Fortune ne shall neuer make, that such things been thine, that nature of things hath maked forrain fro thee. Sooth it is, that withouten doubt the fruits of the yearth owen to be to the nourishing of beasts. And if thou wolt fulfill thy need, after that it suffiseth to nature, then is it no need yt thou seek after the superfluitie of fortune. * For with full few things and with full little things, nature hath her apaid. And if thou wolt achoken yt fulfilling of nature with superfluities, certes, thilke things yt thou wolt thresten or pouren into nature, shullen ben unjoyful to thee, or els annoyous. Wenest thou eke, yt it be a fair thing, to shine with diuers clothings? Of which clothing, if yt beauty be agreeable to looken vpon, I woll maruailen on ye nature of the matter of thilk clothes, or els on the workman that wrought hem. Doth also a long rout of meine make thee a blisfull man? The which seruants, if they ben vicious of condicions, it is a great charge, & destruction to the hous, and a great enemie to ye sord himself: And if they ben good men, how shall strange and forrain goodnesse be put in the number of thy richesses? So that by all these foresaid things it is clearly shewed, that neuer one of thilk things, yt thou accomptedest for thy goods, nas not thy good. In which things, if there be no beautie to be desired, why shouldest thou be sorrie to lese them? Or why shouldest thou rejoyce thee to hold hem? For if they been fair of their own kind, wt appertaineth yt to thee? For also wel shoulden they haue ben fair by himself, though they were departed from thy richesses. For why, fair ne precious were they not, for that they commen among thy richesses: but for they seemed fair & precious, therfore thou hadst leuer recken hem among thy richesses. But what desirest thou of Fortune, with so great afare? I trow thou sekest to driue away need, with abundance of things: but certes, it turneth you all into the contrarie. For why, certes it needeth full many helpings to keepen ye diuersitie of precious hostile ments. And sooth it is, * That of many things they haue need, yt many things haue: And ayenward, of little thing needeth him that measureth his fill after the need of kind, & not after outrage of couetise. It is so then, that ye menne haue no proper good set in you, [Page 369] for such ye moten seek outward, in forraine and subject things. So is then the condicion of things tourned vp so doun, that a man yt is a diuine creature, by merit of his reason, thinketh that himselfe nis neither faire ne noble, but if it be through possession of hostiliments, that ne han no life: and certes al other things ben apaied of her own beauties: but ye men that be semblable to God by your reasonable thought, desiren to apparailen your excellent kinde with the lowest things. Ne ye vnderstanden not howe great a wrong is done to your creatour. For he would that mankinde were most worthy and noble of any yearthly thing: and ye thresten down your dignities beneathen the lowest things. For if that all the good of every thing be more precious than is thilke thing, whose that the good is, sith ye deemen, that the foulest thyngs been your goods, then submitten ye, and put your selven vnder the foulest things by your estimation. And certes, this betideth not without your desert. For certes, such is the condition of all mankinde, that onely when he hath knowing of it selfe, then passeth it in noblesse all other things. And when it forletteth the knowing of it self, then it is brought beneathen all beasts. For why, all other liuing creatures han of kind to knowen not himself. But when that men letten the knowing of hemselfe, it commeth hem of vice. But how brode sheweth the errour & the folly of you men, yt wenen that any thing may ben apparailed with straunge apparailements? But forsooth that may not be done. For if a wight shineth with thyngs that been put to him, as thus: If thilke things shinen with which a manne is apparailed, certes, thilke thinges been commended and praised, with which he is apparailed; but natheles, the thing that is covered and wrapped vnder that, dwelleth in his filthe. And I deny that thilk thing be good, yt anoyeth him yt hath it. Gabbe I of this? Thou wolt say nay. Certes, richesses haue annoyed full oft hem that han had tho richesse: Sith y• every wicked shrew for his wickednesse is ye more greedy after other folkes richesses. Whersoever it be in any place, be it gold or precious stones; he weneth him only most worthy that hath hem. Thou then yt so busie dredest now the swerd and the spear, if thou haddest entred in the path of this life, annoyen wayfaring men, then wouldest thou sing before the theef, as who saith, * A poore man that beareth no richesse on him by ye way, may boldly sing beforne theeves, for he hath not whereof to be robbed. O precious and right clear is the blisfulness of mortal richesse, that when thou hast gotten it, then hast thou lorne thy sikernesse.
Foelix nimium prior aetas, Contenta fidelibus arvis. Nec inerti perdita luxu. Facilique sera solebat Jejunia solvere glande. Nec bacchia munera norat liquido confundere melle. Nec lucida vellera serum, &c.
BLisful was the first age of men, they held hem apayed with the meats that the true fields broughten forth: they ne destroyed nor deceived not hemselfe with outrage: they weren woont lightly to slaken her hunger at even with Achornes of Okes: they ne coude not medell the yefte of Bacchus to the cleare honey, that is to sain, they could make ne piemente or clarre: Ne they could not medell the bright fleeces of the Countrey of Syrians with the venime of Tirie: this is to saine, they coude not dyen white fleeces of Syrian countrey, with the blood of a manner Shell-fish that men finden in Tyrie, with which blood men dyen Purple.
They slepten holsome sleeps vpon ye grasse, and dronken of the renning waters, & lien vnder ye shadows of ye high Pine trees. Ne no gheste or straunger ne carfe yet ye high sea with oares or with shippes: ne they ne hadden seine yet no new stronds to leaden Marchandise into divers Countreys. Tho weren the cruell clarions full hust, and full still. Ne blood y [...]ad by eagre hate, ne had dyed yet armures. For whereto would woodnesse of enemies first mouen armes, when they sawen cruel wounds, ne none meedes be of blood yshad? I would that our times should tourne ayen to the old manners. But the anguishous loue of having, in folke, burneth more cruelly than the mountain of Ethna, that aye brenneth. Alas, what was he that first dalfe up the gobbets or the weights of gold, couered under earth, and the precious stones that woulden haue be hid? * He dalfe up precious perils, that is to sain, that he hem first up dalfe, he dalfe up a precious peril, for why, for the preciousnesse of such thing hath many man ben in peril.
Quid autem de dignitatibus, potentiaque disseram, quas vos, vere dignitatis, ac potestatis inscii, Coelo exaequatis? Quae si in improbissimum quemque ceciderint, &c.
BVt what shall I say of dignities and powers, the which yee men, that neyther knowen very dignitie ne very power, areisen as high as the heauen? The whiche dignities & powers, if they commen to any wicked man, they doen as great dammages and destructions, as doth the flame of ye mountaine Ethna, when ye flame walloweth up, ne no deluvy ne doth so cruel harms. Certes, ye remember well (as I trow) yt thilke dignitie, ye men cleape the Imperie of counsaylours, the which whylome was beginning of freedome, your elders coueited to haue doen away, for the pride of the counsailours. And right for that same, your elders before that time had done away out of the Citie of Rome the Kings name, that is to sain, they nolde haue no lenger no King. But now, if so be yt dignities & powers ben yeuen to good men, the which thing is ful seld, what agreable things [Page 370] is there in tho dignities & powers, but onely the goodnesse of folke that vsen hem? And therefore is it thus, yt honour commeth not to vertue, because of dignitie: but ayenward, honour commeth to dignitie for cause of vertue. But whiche is thilke your deere-worth power, that is so cleare, and so requirable? O yee yearthly creatures, consider yee not ouer which thing it seemeth that ye haue power? Now, if thou saw a mouse emong other mice, that challenged to himselfeward right and power ouer all other Mice, how great scorne wouldest thou haue of it? Glosa. So fareth it by men, the body hath power ouer ye body: for if thou look well vpon the body of a wight, what thyng shalt thou find more frayle than is mankinde? The which menne full oft bee slain by biting of Flies, or els with entring or creeping wormes into the priuities of mans bodie. But where shall men finden any man y• may exercisen or haunten any right vpon another man, but only on his body or els vpon thyngs that beene lower than the bodye, the whiche I cleape Fortunes possessions? Mayest thou haue euer any commaundement ouer a free courage? Maiest thou remeue fro the state of his proper rest a thought yt is cleauing together in himselfe by stedfast reason? As whylome a tyraunt wened to confound a free man of courage, & wend to constrayne him by tourments, to maken him discoueren and accusen folke that wislen of coniuracion, which I clepe confederacie, yt was cast ayen this tyraunt: but this freeman hote off his owne tongue, and cast it in the visage of thilke wood Tyraunt. So that the torments that this wood Tyraunt wend to haue made matter of crueltie, this wise man made matter of vertue. But wt thing is it that a man may doe to another man yt he ne may receiuen the same thing of other folke in himselfe? or thus: What may a man doen to folke, yt folke ne may doen to him the same? I haue heard tolde of Busiride, that was woont to slean his ghestes that harbouren in his house: and he was slaine himselfe by Hercules, that was his ghest.
Regulus had taken in battaile many men of Affrick, & cast hem into fetters: but soone after he must yeuen his handes to bee bound with the cheines of hem that he had whylome ouercommen. Wenest thou then, that he be mightie, that hath power to doen that y• other ne may doen in him, that he can doe to other? And yet moreouer, if so were, yt these dignities of powers hadden any proper or naturall goodnesse in hem, neuer nold they commen to shrewes. For contrarious thinges ne been woont to been ifellowshipped togethers. Nature refuseth yt contrarious things ben joyned. And so as I am in certaine that wicked folke haue dignities oft time, then sheweth it well, that dignities & powers ne been not good of her owne kind, sens that they sufferen hemself to cleauen or joynen hemself to shrewes. And certaine the same thing may I most dignely judgen, and saine of all ye yefts of Fortune, yt most plenteously commen to shrewes, of which yefts I trowe, it ought bee considred, that no man doubteth that hee is strong, in whom he seeth strength: & in whom swiftnesse is, sooth it is that he is swift.
Also Musick maketh Musiciens, and Phisicke maketh Physiciens, & Rhetoricke eke Rhetoriciens. For why, the nature of euerie thing maketh his property, ne it is not entermedled with yt effect of contrarious thyngs. But certes, richesses may not restraine auarice vnstaunched. * Ne power ne maketh not a man mightie ouer himself, which yt vicious lusts holden distrained with chains, that ne mowen not be vnbounden. And dignities, that be yeuen to shreud folke, not onely ne maketh hem not digne, but sheweth rather all openly that they been vnworthy and indigne. And it is thus. For certes, yee haue joy to clepe things with false names, that bearen hem in all the contrary, the which names ben full oft reprooued by the effect of the same thinges. So that these ilke richesses ne oughten not by right to bee cleped richesses, ne such power ne ought not to be cleped power, ne such dignitie ne ought not to be cleaped dignitie. And at last I may conclude y• same thing of all the yefts of fortune: In which there nis nothing to bee desired, ne yt hath in himselfe naturall bountie, as it is well iseene, for neither they ioynen hem not alway to good men, ne maken hem alway good, to whom they been joyned.
Novimus, quantas dederit ruinas. Urbe flammata, patribusque caesis. Fratre qui quondam ferus interempto, matris effuso maduit cruore. Corpus & visu gelidum pererrans, ora non tinxit lachrimis: sed esse, Censor extincti potuit decoris, &c.
WE have well known, how many great harmes and distructions were doen by the Emperour Nero. He let brennen the Citee of Rome, and made slea the Senatours, and he cruell whilome slough his brother: and he was made moiste with the blood of his mother, that is to say, he let sleen and slitten ye wombe of his mother, to seen where he was conceyued, & he loked on euery halue of her dedde cold bodie, ne no teare wette his face, but he was so hard harted, yt he might be domes man, or Iudge of her dedde beautie. And nathelesse, yet gouerned this Nero by scepter, all the people that Phebus may seen comming, from his vtterest arising, till he hid his beams vnder the wawes: yt is to saine, he gouerned all ye peoples, by Septre Imperiall, that the Sunne goeth about fro East to west. And eke this Nero gouerned by Septre, all the peoples that be vnder ye cold sterres, that highten the Septentrions, that is to sain, he gouerned all the peoples yt be vnder ye party of the North. And eke Nero gouerned all the peoples that ye violent winde Nothus skorclith, and baketh the brenning [Page 371] sandes, by his drie heate, that is to say, all ye peoples in the South. But yet ne might not all his power tourne the woodnesse of this wicked Nero. * Alas it is a greuous Fortune as oft as a wicked sweard is joyned to cruell venime, that is to say, venemous crueltie to Lordship.
Tunc ego. Scis (inquam) ipsa, minimam nobis ambitionem mortalium rerum fuisse dominatam. Sed materiam gerendis rebus optavimus, quo ne virtus cacita consenesceret. P. Et illa. Atqui hoc unum est, &c.
THen said I thus: Thou wotest well thy selfe, that the couetise of mortall thinges, ne hadden neuer Lordship in me. But I haue well desired matter of thinges to doen, as who saith, I desire to haue matter of gouernaunces ouer comminalties, for vertue still should not elden: that is to saine, lest er that he wext old his vertue that lay now still ne should not perishe vnexercised in gouernance of commune, for which men might speaken or writen of his good gouernement. Phi. Forsooth (qd. she) & that is a thing that may drawen to gouernaunce soche hartes as been worthy and noble of her nature: but nathelesse it may not drawen or tellen such hartes as been ybrought to the full perfection of vertue, that is to sain, couetise of glorie & renome, to haue well administred ye common things, or doen good desertes, to profite of ye common. For see now and consider, how little & how void of all price is thilke glory, certaine thing is as thou hast learned by ye demonstracion of Astronomy, that al ye enuironning of ye yearth about, ne halt but the reason of a pricke, at ye regard of the greatnesse of ye heauen, that is to sain, y• if there were maked comparison of the yearth to ye greatnesse of heauen, men would judgen in all that ne held no space. Of ye which little region of this world, the fourth part of the yearth is inhabited with liuing beasts that we knowen, as thou hast thy selfe ilearned by Ptholome that proueth it. And if thou haddest withdrawen and abated in thy thought for thilke fourth part, as moch space as the see & the maries conteynen and ouergone: as moch space as ye region of drought ouer stretcheth, that is to saine, sands & desertes, wel vnneth shuld there dwellen a right strait place to the habitacion of men. And ye, that he enuironed & closed with the lest pricke of thilke pricke, thinken ye manifesten or publishen your renome and done your name for to ben borne forth. But your glory, yt is so narow & so straight throngen into so litel bounds, how mikell conteyneth it in larges & in great doing. And also set thereto, yt many a nacion, diuers of tongue and of maners, & eke of reason of her liuing, inhabite in the close of thilke habitacle: to ye which nacions, what for difficultie of wayes, and what for diuersitie of language, and what for defaulte of vnusage, & entrecomming of Marchandise, not onely ye names of singuler men ne may not stretchen, but eke ye fame of Cities may not stretchen. At the laste, certes in the time of Marcus Tullius, as him selfe writeth in his boke, that renome of ye commonwelth of Rome, ne had not yet passed ne clomben ouer the mountaine yt hight Caucasus: & yet was Rome well waxen, being redoubted of ye Parthes, & eke of other folk enhabiting about. Seest thou not then how straite and how compressed is thilke glory that yee trauailen about to shewen and to multiply? May then the glory of a singuler Romane stretchen thider as the fame of the name of Rome may not climben ne passen? And eke seest thou not yt the maners of diuers folke & her lawes been discordant amonges hemlelf, so yt thilke thing yt som men judge worthy of praising, other folke judgen that that is worthy of tourment? And hereof commeth it, yt though a man deliteth him in praysing of his renome, he may not in no wise bringen forth ne spreden his name to many maner peoples: & therefore euery man ought to be apaid of his glory, ye is published among his owne neighbours, and thilke noble renome shall be restrayned within the bounds of tho maner folke. But how many a man, yt was full noble in his tyme, hath the wretches & nedy foryeting of writers put out of mind & don away: al be it so yt certes thilke things profiten litell, the which things and writings long & derke elde do away both hem & eke her auctours. But ye men semen to getten you a perdurabilitie, when ye thinken in time comming your fame shall lasten. But nathelesse if thou wilt make comparison to the endlesse spaces of eternite, wt thing hast thou, by which thou maist rejoycen thee of long lasting of thy name? For if there were made comparison of ye abiding of a moment to ten thousand winter, for as moch as both tho spaces ben ended, yet hath the moment some porcion of it although it be litell. But nathelesse thilke selfe nombre of yeres, & eke as many yeres as thereto may be multiplied, ne may not certes be comparisoned to ye perdurabilite yt is endlesse. * For of things which yt have ende may be made comparison, but of thinges which that been withouten ende, to things that haue end, may be maked no comparison. And for thy is it, that although renome of as long time as euer thee list to thinken, were compared to the regard of ye eternitie, that is vnstaunchable and infinite, it ne should not onely seem littell, but plainly right nought. But yee semen certes ye can do nothing a right, but if it be for ye audience of the people, & for ydle rumours. And ye forsaken the great worthinesse of conscience & of vertue, & ye seken your guerdons of the small words of strange folke. Haue now here and vnderstand in the lightnesse of soche pride & veine glory, how a man skorned festinally & merily soche vanite. Whilom there was a [Page 372] man, yt had assaied with striuing words another manne, the which not for usage of very vertue, but for proude vaine glory, had taken upon him falsly y• name of a Philosophre. This rather man that I speak of, thought he wold assay, wheder he thilke were a Philosophre or no, that is to say: if yt he would haue suffred lightly in pacience the wrongs y• were done to him: this fained philosophre toke pacience a litel while, and when he had receiued words of outrage, he as in striuing ayen & reioysing of him self, said at last thus: Vnderstandest thou not that I am a philosophre? That other man answerde again bitingly and said: I had well understand it, if thou haddest holden thy tonge still. But wt is it to these noble worthy men (for certes of such folk speak I, that seken glory with vertue?) What is it (qd. she) what atteyneth fame to soche folke, when the body is resolued by deth at the last? for if so be that men dien in all, that is to say body & soul, the which thing our reason defendeth us to beleue, then is there no glory in no wise: for wt should thilke glory be, when he, of whom thilke glory is said to be, nis right naught in no wise? And if ye soul, which that hath in it self science of good werkes, unbounden from the prison of ye yerth, wendeth freely to the heauen, dispiseth it not then all erthly occupacion, and being in heauen reioyseth that it is exempt from all erthly things? as who faith, then recketh the soul neuer of no glory of renome of this world.
Quicunque solam mente praecipiti petit, summumque credit gloriam, Lace patentes aetheris cernat plagas, Artumque terrarum situm, Brevem replere non valentis ambitum, &c.
WHo so that with ouerthrowing thought onely seeketh glory of fame, and weneth that it be soueraine good, let him loken upon the brode shewing countreys of the heauen, and upon the straite seate of this earth, and he shall be ashamed of thencrease of his name, that may not fulfill the littel compas of the earth. O what coueyten proude folk to liften up her neckes in idle, in the deadly yoke of this world? For although that renome ysprad passing toforn peoples, goth by diuers tonges, and although great houses of kindreds shinen by clere titles of honours, yet nathelesse death dispiseth all high glory of fame, and death wrappeth togithers the high heads and the lowe, and maketh equal and euen the hiest with the lowest.
Where wonen now the bones of trew Fabricius? What is now Brutus, or sterne Caton? The thynne fame yet lastyng of her ydle names, is marked with a few letters. But although that we haue knowen the fair words of the fame of hem, it is not yeuen to know hem that he deed & consumpt. Liggeth then still all utterly unknowable, ne fame ne maketh you not know. And if ye wene to liue ye lenger for wind of your mortal name, when one cruel day shall take away this also, then shall ye die the second death. The first death he clepeth here the departing of the body, and the second death here the stinting of the renome of fame.
Sed ne me inexorabile contra fortunam gerere Bellum putes, est aliquando, cum de hominibus fallax illa non nihil bene mereatur: tum scilicet cum se aperit, &c.
BVt for as moch as thou shalt not wenen (qd. she) that I beare an untreatable batayle ayenst Fortune, yet sometimes it be falleth that she, nothing disceiuable, deserueth to haue right good thanke of men: and that is when she her selfe openeth, and when she discouereth her front, and sheweth her manners. Perauenture yet understandest thou not that I shall say. It is a wondre that I desire to tell, and therefore vnneth may I unpliten my sentence with words. For I deme yt contrarious fortune profiteth more to men, than fortune debonayre. For alway when fortune semeth debonayre, then she lieth falsly, biheting the hope of welefulnesse. But contrarious fortune is alway sothfaste, when she sheweth her selfe unstable through her chaungyng. * The amiable fortune disceiueth folk: yt contrary fortune teacheth. The amiable fortune blindeth with the beautie of her false goodes the harts of folks that usen hem: the contrary Fortune unbindeth hem with the knowing of frele welefulnesse. Thamyable fortune maiest thou sene alway windy & flowing, & euer misknowing of her self: The contrary fortune is attempre & restrained and wise, thorow exercise of her aduersite. At the last, amiable Fortune with her flaterings draweth miswandring men fro the soueraine good: the contrarious fortune leadeth oft folk ayen to sothfast goods, & halteth hem ayen as with an hoke. Wenest thou then that thou oughtest to leten this a litell thing, that this aspre & horrible Fortune hath discouered to thee the thoughts of thy trew frendes? For why, this ilke Fortune hath departed & uncouered to thee both the certain visages, & eke the doutous visages of thy felawes. When the departed away fro thee, she took away her frends & laft thee thy frendes. Now when thou were rich and welefull, as thee semed, with how mykell woldest thou haue bought the full knowing of this, that is to sain, the knowing of thy very frends? Now plain thee not then of richesse lorne, sith thou haste found the most precious kind of richesse, that is to saine, thy very frendes.
Quod mundus stabili fide, concordes variat vices, quod pugnantia semina, Faedus perpetuum tenet, &c.
THat the world with stable faith varieth accordable chaungings: that the contrarious qualitees of Elements holden among hem self alyaunce perdurable: that [Page 373] Phebus the sonne with his golden chariot bringeth forth the rosie day: that the moon hathe commaundement ouer the nightes, which nightes Esperus the euen sterre hath brought: that the sea, gredy to flowen, constraineth with a certain end his floods, so that it is not lefull to stretch his brode terms or bounds upon the yearth: all this ordinaunce of things is bounden with loue, that gouerneth earth and sea, and also hath commaundement to the heauen. And if this loue slaked the bridles, all thinges that now louen togithers wolden make bataile continuelly, and striuen to fordone the facion of this world, the which they now leden in accordable faith by faire mouings. This loue holdeth togider people ioyned with an holy bond, and knitteth sacrament of mariage of chaste loues. And loue endeth lawes to true felawes. O welefull were mankinde if thilke loue that gouerneth the Heauen gouerned your courages.
Jam cantum illa finierat, cum me audiendi avidum, stupentemque arrectis adhuc auribus carminis dulcedo defixerat. Itaque paulo post, O inquam summum lassorum solamen animorum, quantum me, &c.
BY this she had ended her song, when the sweetnesse of her dytie had through perced mee, that was desirous of herkening. And I astonied had yet streight mine eares, yt is to saine, to herken the bet what she should say: so yt a litel after I said thus, O thou that art souerain comfort of corages anguishous, so thou hast remounted & nourished me with ye weight of thy sentences, & with delite of singing so that I trowe not that I be unperegall to y• strokes of Fortune: as who saith, I dare well now suffren all thassauts of Fortune, & well defend me from her. And tho remedies, which that thou saidest here beforne, yt weren right sharpe, not only y• I am not agrisen of hem now, but I desirous of hearing, ask greatly to hearen ye remedies. Then saied she thus: That feled I well (qd. she) when that thou ententife and still, rauishedest my words: and I abode till thou haddest soche habyte of thy thought, as thou hast now, or els till that I my self had maked it to the same habit, which is a more trew thing. And certes ye remnant of things that ben yet to say ben soch, yt first when men taste hem they bene biting: But when they bene receiued within a wight, then ben they swete. But for thou sayst that thou art so desirous to hearken hem, with how great brenning wouldest thou glowen, if thou wiltes whider I wold leden thee? B. Whider is that (qd. I) P. To thilke very blisfulnesse (qd. she) of which thine hart dremeth. But for as moch as thy sight is occupied and distourbed of earthly things, thou maiest not yet sene thilk self welefulnesse. B. Doe (qd. I) and shew me what thilke very welefulnes is, I pray thee without taryeng. P. That woll I gladly done (qd. she) for cause of thee. But I wol first marken by words, and I woll enforcen me to enforme thee thilk false cause of blisfulnesse, which that thou more knowest: so that when thou haste beholden thilke false goodes, and turned thine iyen so to that other side, thou may knowen the eleerenesse of very blisfulnesse.
Qui serere ingenuum volet agrum, liberat arva prius fruticibus, falce rubos, filicemque resecat, &c.
WHo so woll sowe a field plenteous, let him first deliueren it of thornes, and kerue asonder with his hoke the bushes and the ferne, so that the corne may commen heauie of eres and of greines. * Hony is the more swete if mouths haue first tasted sauors that he wycke. The Sterres shinen more agreably when the wind Nothus letteth his plungy blastes. And after that Lucifer the day sterre hath chased away the dark night, y• day the fairer ledeth the rosen horse of the sonne. * And right so thou, beholding first y• false goods, begin to withdraw thy neck fro yt yearthly affections, and afterwards the very goods shullen entren into thy corage.
Tum defixo paululum visu, & velut in angustam suae mentis sedem recepta: sic cepit. P. Omnis mortalium cura quam multiplicium studiorum labor exercet, &c.
THo fastened she a litel the sight of her eien, and she withdrew her right as it were into the strait seate of her thought, and began to speake right thus: All the cures (qd. she) of mortall folke, which that trauailen hem in many maner studies, gon certes by diuers wayes: but nathelesse they enforcen hem all to commen onely to thende of blisfulnes. And blisfulnes is soch a good, that who so hath gotten it, he ne may over that thing more desire. And this thing forsooth is so soueraine good, that it conteyneth in himself all manner of goodes, to the which good if there fayled any thing, it might not been soueraine good, for then were some good out of this soueraine good, that might be desired. Now it is clere and certaine that blisfulnesse is a parfite state, by ye congregacion of all goodes, ye which blisfulnesse (as I haue sayd) all mortal folke enforcen hem to get by diuers ways. For why, the couetise of euery good is naturelly planted in ye harts of men: but the miswandring errour misledeth hem into false goods. Of the which men, some of hem wenen that soueraine good be to liuen without need of any thing. And other men demen, that soueraine good to be right digne of reuerence, & enforcen hem to be reuerenced among her neighbours, by the honours [Page 374] that they haue gotten. And some folk there ben that holden, that right hie power be soueraine good, and enforcen hem for to reignen or els to ioynen hem to hem that reigne. And it seemeth to other folk, that noblesse of renome be the soueraine good, and hasten hem to getten hem glorious name by the artes of werre or of peace. And many folke measuren and gessen, that souerayne good be ioy and gladnesse, and wenen that it bee right blisful thing to plongen in voluptuous delites. And there ben some folke, that enterchaungen the causes and the ends of these foresaid goods: As they that desiren richesses to haue power and delights, or els they desire power for to haue money, or for cause of renome. In these things and soch other is turned all the entencion of desirings and werkes of menne, as thus: Noblesse and fauour of people, which that yeueth to all men, as it seemeth hem, a maner cleerenesse of renome: and wife and children, that men desiren, for cause of delite and merinesse. But forsoth frendes ne shullen not be rekened among the goodes of Fortune, but of vertue, for it is a full holy maner thing. All these other things forsoth be taken for cause of power, or els for cause of delite. Certes now I am ready to referren the goods of the body, to these foresaid things abouen: For it semeth that strength and greatnesse of body yeuen power and worthinesse, and that beaute and swiftnesse yeuen glory and renome: and health of body seemeth to yeuen delite. In all these things it seemeth onely that blisfulnesse is desired: for why, thilke thing that euery man desireth moste ouer all things, he deemeth that it be soueraine good. But I haue defined, that blisfulnesse is souerain good, for which euery wight deemeth that thilke estate that he desireth ouer all things, that it be blisfulnesse. Now hast thou then before thine eyen almost all the purposed forme of the welefulnesse of mankind that is to sain, richesse, honours, power, glory, and delites, the which delite onely considred Epicurus, aud iudged and established that delite is the soueraine good: for as moche as all other things, as him thought, byrest away ioy and myrthe from the hart. But I returne againe to the studies of men, of which men the corage alway reherseth and seeketh the soueraine good, all be it so that it be with a dyrked memory, but he not by which pathe, right as a dronken man, note nought by which path he may returne home to his house. Semeth it then that folke forleyen and erren to enforcen hem to haue need of nothing. Certes there is none other thing that may so moch performen blisfulnesse, as an estate plenteous of all goods, that ne hath neede of none other thing, but that is suffisaunt of himselfe unto himself. And folien soche folke then that wenen, that thilke thing that is right good, that it is eke right worthy of honor and of reuerence? certes nay. For that thing nys neither foule ne worthy to be dispised, that well nigh all the entencion of mortal folke travailen to get it. And power eke ought not to be rekened amongs goodes. What els? for it nis not to wene that thilke thing that is most worthy of all things, be feble and without strength. And clerenesse of renome, ought yt to ben despised? Certes there may no man forsake that all thing yt is right excellent and noble, that it ne semeth be right clere and renomed. For certes it needeth not to say, that blisfulnesse be anguishous ne drerie, ne subject to greuaunces ne sorowes, sens that in right littell things folke seken to haue and to usen that may delighten hem. Certes these ben the things that men willen and desiren to getten: and for this cause desiren they richesses, dignities, reignes, glorie and delites. For therby wened they to haue suffisaunce, honour, power, renome, and gladnes. Then is it good that men seken thus by so many diuers studies, in which desire, it may not lightly be shewed how great is the strength of nature. For how so men haue diuers sentences and discordings, algates men accorden all in louing the end of good.
Quantas rerum flectit habenas Natura potens, quibus immensum, Legibus orbem provida servet, stringatque ligans irresoluto. Singula nexu, placet arguto, fidelibus lentis promere cantu, &c.
IT lyketh me to shew by subtil song, with slack and delitable sowne of strings, how that nature mightely enclineth aud flitteth by the gouernment of things, and by soche lawe shee purueiable keepeth the great world, and how she binding restraineth all things by a bonde that may not be unbounden. All be it so that the Lions of the countrey of Pene beren the faire chaines and taken meates of the hands of folke that yeuen it hem, and dreden her sturdie maisters, of which they be wont to suffre beatings, if that her horrible mouthes been bledde, that is to sain, of beestes devoured: her corage of time passed that hath been idle and rested, repaireth ayen, and they roren greuously, and remembren on her nature, and staken her necks from her chaines unbound, and her maister first to torne with bloody teeth, assaieth the woode wrathes of hem, that is to sain, they fretten her maister. And the iangling bird that singeth on the hie braunches, that is to saine, in the woode, and after is enclosed in a straite cage, although the plyeng besinesse of men yeue hem honied drinkes, and large meates with swete study: yet natheles if thilke bird skipping out of her straite cage, seeth the agreeable shadowes of the woodes, she defouleth with her feet her meat ishad, and seeketh on morning onely the wood, and twireth desiring the woode with her swete voise. The yerde of a tree that is haled adown by mighty strength, boweth redily the croppe [Page 375] a downe: but if that the hand that is bent let it gone again, anon the croppe looketh vpright to the heauen. The sonne Phebus, that falleth at euen in the westren wawes, returneth ayen eftsones his carte by a priuy pathe there as it is wont arise. All things seken ayen to her proper course, and al things rejoysen on her returning againe to her nature: ne none ordinance is betaken to things, but that hath joyned the end to the beginning, and hath made the course it self stable, that it chaunge not fro his proper kind.
Vos quoque ô terrena animalia, tenui licet imagine, vestrum tamen principium somniatis. Verum (que) illum beatitudinis finem, licet minime perspicaci, &c.
CErtes also ye men that ben erthly creatures dreamen alway your beginning, although it be with a thin imaginacion, and by a maner thought, all be it nat clerely ne perfectly, ye loken from a ferre to thilke very fine of blisfulnesse. And therefore naturel entencion leadeth you to thilke very good, but many maner errours mistourneth you therefro. Consider now if that be thilke things, by which a man weneth to get him blisfulnesse, if that he may commen to thilke end that he weneth to come to by nature. For if that money, honors, or these other foresaid things bringen men to soch a thing that no good ne fail them ne semeth to fail, certes then wold I graunt that they be maked blisfull by things that they haue gotten. But if so be that thilke things ne mowen not performe that they byheten, and that there be defaut of many goodes, sheweth it not then clerely the false beautie of blisfulnesse is knowen and atteint in thilk things? First and forward thou thy self, that haddest aboundance of richesse nat long agon, I ask thee that in thaboundance of al thilk riches, if thou were neuer anguishous or sorrie in thy courage of any wrong or greuaunce that betide thee in any side. B. Certes (qd. I) it ne remembreth me not, that euer I was so free of my thought, that I ne was alway in anguish of somewhat. P. And was that not (qd. she) for that thee lacked somewhat that thou noldest not haue lacked? Or els thou haddest that thou noldest haue had? B. Right so it is (qd. I.) P. Then desirest thou the presence of the one, and thabsence of that other? B. I graunt well (qd. I.) P. Forsoth (qd. she) then nedeth there somewhat that euery man desireth. B. Ye there nedeth (qd. I.) P. Certes (qd. she) and he that hath lacke or neede of aught, nis not in euery way suffisant to himself. B. No (qd. I.) P. And thou (qd. she) in al the plentie of thy richesse haddest thilke lacke of suffisance? B. What els (qd. I.) P. Then may not riches maken that a man nis nedy, ne that he be sufficient to himself: and yet that was it that they beheten as it semed. And eke certes I trowe that this be greatly to consider, that money hath not in his owne kind, that it ne may been bynomen from hem that haue it, maugre hem. Bo. I know it well (qd. I.) P. Why shouldst thou not beknowen it (qd. she) when euery day the strenger folke benomen it from the feobler, maugre hem? From whens come els all these forain complaints, quarels, or pleadings, but for that men asken her money, that hath been binomed hem, by strength or by gyle, and alway maugre hem? Boec. Right so it is (qd. I.) Phi. Then hath a man need (qd. she) to seeken him forain help, by which he may defend his money. Boecius. Who may say nay (qd. I.) Phil. Certes (qd. she) and him needed no helpe, if he ne had no money that he might lese. Boecius. That is doubtles (qd. I.) Philosophie. Then is this thing tourned in to the contrary (qd. she:) for richesse, that men wenen should maken suffisaunce, they maken a man rather haue need of forain help. Which is the maner or the guise (qd. she) that richesse may driuen away need? Riche folke, may they neuer haue honger ne thurst? These rich men, may they fele no cold on their lims in Winter? But thou wilt aunswere, that rich men haue inough, wherewith they may staunchen her honger, and slaken her thurst, and doen away colde.
In this wise may need been comforted by richesse: but certes, need ne may not all vtterly be doen away. For if this need, that alway is gaping & greedy, be fulfilled with richesse, & any other thing, yet dwelleth then a need that mote be fulfilled. I hold me still, & tell not how that little thing sufiseth to nature: * but certes, to auarice suffiseth not inough of nothing. For since that riches ne may not doen away need, & they maken their own need, wt may it then be, that ye wenen that richesses mowen yeuen you suffisaunce?
Quamvis fluente dives auri gurgite. Non expleturas cogat avarus opes, &c.
AL were it so, that a noble couetous man had a riuer, or a gutter fleeting all of gold, yet should it neuer staunch his couetise: and although he had his neck charged with precious stones of the red Sea: And though he do ere his fields plenteous with an hundred oxen, neuer ne shal his biting businesse forleten him while he liueth: ne the light of richesses, ne shall not bearen him compaigny when he is dead.
Sed dignitatis honorabilem, reverendum (que) cui provenerint, reddunt. Num vis ea est magistratibus, ut utentium mentibus vi [...]tutes inserant, vicia depellant, &c.
BVT dignities, to whom they be commen, maken they them honourable and reverent? Have they not so great strength that they then may putten vertue [Page 376] in hertes of folkes that usen the lordship of hem, or els may they done away the vices? Certes they be not wont to don away wickednes, but they be wont rather to shew wickednesse: And thereof commeth it that I haue right great disdain that dignities been yeuen to wicked men. For which thing Catullus cleped a consull of Rome (that hight Nonius) postome or boche, as who saith, he cleped him a congregacion of vices in his brest, as a postome is full of corrupcion: All were Nonius set in a chaire of dignite. Seest thou not then, how great vilonies dignities done to wicked men? Certes unworthines of wicked men shuld be the lasse seen, if they nere renomed with none honour. Certes thou thy selfe ne mightest not bee brought with as many perils as thou mightest suffre, that thou woldest beare the Magistrate with Decorate: that is to saine, that for peril that might befall thee by offence of the king Theodorike, thou noldest not be felawe in gouernaunce with Decorate, when thou sawe that he had wicked corage of a licorous shrew and of an accusour. Ne I may not for soche honours iudgen hem worthy of reuerence, that I deeme and holde unworthy to haue thilke same honours. Now if thou saw a man that were fulfild of wisdome, certes, thou ne mightest not deme that he were unworthy to that honour, or els to the wisedome of whiche he is fulfilled. Boecius. No (qd. I) Philosophie. * Certes (qd. she) dignities appertainen properly to vertue, and vertue transporteth dignitie anon to thilke man to which she her selfe is conioyned. And for as moch as honours of people ne may not make folke digne of honour, it is well seen clerely, that they ne haue no proper beautie of dignitie. And yet men oughten take more heed in this: for if a wight be in so moch the more outcast, that he is despised of most folke, so as dignitie ne may not maken shrewes worthy of no reuerence, then maketh dignite shrewes rather dispised than praised, the which shrewes dignite sheweth to moche folke. And forsooth not unpunished, that is to saine, that shrewes reuengen hem ayenward upon dignities. For they yelden ayen to dignities as great guerdons, when they dispotten and defoulen dignities with her vilonie. And for as moch as thou now knowest, that thilke very reuerence ne may nat commen by these shadowy transitorie dignities, understonde now thus: that if a man had used and had many maner dignities of consuls, and were parauenture commen among straunge nacions, shuld thilke honour maken him worshipfull and redoubted of straunge folke? Certes if that honour of people were a naturel yefte to dignities, it ne might neuer cessen no where among no maner folke to done his office. Right as fyre in euery countrey ne stinteth not to enchaufen and maken hote. But for as moch as for to been honorable or reuerent, ne commeth not to folk of her proper strength of nature, but onely of the false opinion of folk, that is to saine, that wenen that dignities maken folke digne of honours: anone therefore when they commen there as folke ne knowen not thilke dignities, her honours vanishen away, and that anon: But that is among straunge folke mayst thou saine. Ne amongs hem there they were borne, ne dureth not thilke dignities alway. Certes the dignitie of the prouostry of Rome was whilom a great power: now it is nothing but an ydle name, and the rent of the Senatorie a great charge. And if a wight whilom had the office to taken hede to the vitailes of the people, as of corne and of other thinges, he was holden amongs hem great. But what thing is more now out caste than thilke prouostrie? As I haue said a little here beforne, that thilke thing that hath no proper beaute of it self, receiueth sometime price and shining, and sometime leseth it by thopinion of usaunces. Now if that dignities then ne mowe not make folke digne of reuerence, and if that dignities wexen foule of her wyll, by the silthe of shrewes. And if dignities lesen her shining by chaunging of tymes, and if they wexen foule by estimacion of people, what is it that they han in hem selfe of beaute, that ought to be desired? as who saith, none: then ne mowen they yeuen no beaute of dignite to none other.
Quamvis se Tyrio superbus ostro comeret & niveis lapillis, &c.
AL be it so, that the proude Nero with all his wode luxure, kembe him and apparelled him with faire purpure of Tirie, and with white peerles. Algates yet thereof hee hatefull to all folke, that is to say, that all was he behated of all folkes, yet this wicked Nero had great lordshippe. And yafe whilome to the reuerent Senatours the unworshipful seates of dignities. Vnworshipfull seates he clepeth here, for that Nero that was so wicked yafe the dignities.
Who would then reasonably wenen, that blisfulnesse were in soch honours, as been yeuen by vicious shrewes.
An vero regna, regnumque familiaritas efficere potentem valent? Quidni, &c.
BVt reignes and familiarities of kynges, may they maken a man to ben mighty? How els? when his blisfulnesse dureth perpetually. But certes, the olde age of time passed, and eke of present time now, is full of ensamples, how that Kings haue chaunged into wretchednesse, out of her welefulnes. O, a noble thing and a clere thing is power, that nis not founden mighty to keepe it selfe. And if that power of [Page 377] realmes be authour & maker of blisfulnesse, if thilk power lacketh on any side, amenuseth it nat thilke blisfulnesse, and bringeth in wretchednesse? But yet al be it so, yt the realmes of mankinde stretchen brode, yet mote there need ben moch folke, ouer which that euery King ne hath no lordship ne commaundement. And certes vpon thilk side that power falleth, which yt maketh folke blisfull, right on ye same side no powere entreth vnderneth that maketh hem wretches. In this maner then moten kings haue more porcion of wretchednesse than of welefulnesse.
A tyraunt that was king of Cecile, yt had assayed ye perill of his essate, shewed by similitude ye dredes of realmes by gastenesse of a swerde, that hong ouer the head of his familier. What thing is then this power, yt may not done away the bitings of businesse, ne eschew the prickes of drede?
And certes yet woulden they liuen in sikernesse, but they may nat. And yet they glorifyen hem in her power. Holdest thou then yt thilke man be mighty, yt thou seest that he would done yt he may not done? And holdest thou then him a mighty man, yt hath enuironned his sides with men of arms or sergeants, & dredeth more hem that he maketh agast, than they dreden him? and that is put in ye hands of his seruaunts, why hee should seeme mightie? But of familiers or seruaunts of kings, why should I tell thee any thing, sith that I my selfe haue shewed thee that realmes hemselfe ben ful of great feeblesse? The which familiers, certes, ye royall power of kinges in hole estate, & in estate abated, full oft throweth adowne.
Nero constrayned Senecke, his familier and his mayster, to chesen on what death he would die. Antonius commanded yt knights slowen with her swerds Papinian his familier, which Papinian had beene long time full mightie amonges hem of the court. And yet certes, they woulden both haue renounced her power. Of which two, Seneck enforced himselfe to yeuen to Nero his richesse, & also to haue gone into solitarie exile. But when ye great weight, that is to saine, of lords power, or of Fortune, draweth hem that shullen fall, neyther of hem ne might doe yt hee would. What thing is then thilk power that though men have it yet they ben agast, & when thou wouldest haue it, thou nart not siker? And if thou wouldest forleten it, thou maiest nat eschewen it. But wheder ben such men friends at need, as been counsayled by fortune, and not by vertue? certes such folk as weleful fortune maketh frendes, contrarious fortune maketh hem enemies. And what pestilence is more mighty for to annoy a wight, than a familiar enemy?
Qui se volet esse potentem, Animos domet ille feroces: Nec victa libidine colla, &c.
WHo so woll be mightie, he mote daunten his cruell courages, ne put nat his neck ouercommen, vnder ye foule raynes of lechery. For all be it so, that the lordship stretch so ferre, yt the country of Inde quaketh at thy commandments, or at thy laws, and at the last isle in yt see, that hight Tyle, be thrall to thee: yet if thou maiest nat putten away thy foule derke desires, and driuen out fro thee wretched complaints, certes, it nis no power that thou hast.
Gloria vero quam fallax saepe, quam turpis est; Unde non injuria tragicus exclamat. O gloria, gloria, millibus mortalium nihil aliud facta, nisi aurium inflatio magna, &c.
BUt glory, how deceiuable & how foule is it oft? For which thynge, not vnskilfully, a tragedian, yt is to saine, maker of dities, yt highten tragedies, cried and said: O glory, glory, qd. he, thou nart nothing els to thousands of folkes, but a sweller of eares. For many haue full great renome by the false opinion of the people.
And what thing may been thought fouler than suche praysing? For thilke folke that been praysed falsely, they moten needes haue shame of her praysing. And if that folke haue getten hem thank or praising by her deserts, what thing hath thilk prise eched or encreased to the conscience of wise folke, that measured her good, nat by the rumour of ye people, but by ye soothfastnesse of conscience? And if it seme a fair thing, a man to haue encreased & sprad his name, then followeth it, yt it is deemed to ben a foule thing, if it ne be ysprad and encreased. But as I said a little here before, yt sith there mote needes been many folkes, to which folke the renome of a man ne may nat commen, it befalleth, that he that thou wenest be glorious and renomed, semeth in the next part of the erthes to ben without glory and without renome. And certes amongs these things, I ne trow nat that the prise and the grace of the people nis neither worthy to ben remembred, ne commeth of wise judgement, ne is ferme perdurably. But now of this name of gentilesse: what man is it that ne may well seene how vaine and flitting it is? For if the name of gentilesse be referred to renome and clereness of linage, then is gentil name but a forain thing, that is to say, to hem that glorifien hem of her linage: For it semeth that gentilnes is a manner praising that commeth of the deserts of auncesters. And if praising maketh gentilnesse, then moten they needes been gentill that ben praised. For which thing it followeth, that if thou ne have no gentilnes of thy self, that is to sain, prise, that cometh of thy desert, forraine gentilnesse ne maketh thee nat gentill. But certes, if there be any good in gentilnesse, I trowe it be all onely this: that it semeth as that a manner necessite be imposed to gentilmen, for that they ne should nat outragen or forleauen fro the vertues of her noble kinred.
Omne hominum genus in terris Simili surgit ab hortu. Unus enim rerum pater est. Unus cuncta ministrat, &c.
AL the linage of men, that been in earth, been semblable of birth. One alone is father of things: one alone ministreth all things: he yafe to the Sun his beames: he yafe to the Moone her hornes: he yafe to men the earth: he yafe the sterres to the heaven: he closed with membres the soules that camen from his hie seat: Then commen all mortal folke of noble seed. Why noisen or bosten ye of your elders? for if ye loke your beginning, and God your father authour and your maker, then nys there no foreliued wight or ungentill but if he nourishe his courage vnto vices, and forlete his proper birth.
Quid autem de corporis voluptatibus loquar, quarum appetentia quidem plena est anxietatis, &c.
BUt what shall I sain of delices of body, of whiche delices the desirings ben full of anguishes, and the fulfillings of hem ben full of penaunce? how great sicknesses and how great sorrows unsufferable, right as a maner fruit of wickednes, ben thilke delices wont to bringen to the bodies of folke yt usen hem? of which delices I not what joye may been had of her mouing. But this wote I well, * That who so euer woll remembren him of his luxures, he shall well understand, that the issues of delices ben sorowfull and sory. And if thilke delices mow make folke blisful, then by that same cause moten these beests ben cleped blisful. Of which beests all the entencion hasteth to fulfill her bodely jolitee. And the gladnesse of wife and children were an honest thing, but it hath been said that it is ouer mokell ayenst kind, that children have been founden tourmentours to her Fathers, I not how many. Of which children, how biting is euery condition, it needeth not to tellen it thee, that hast er this time assayed it, and art yet now anguishous. In this time approve I the sentence of my disciple Euripidis, that said, * That he that hath no children is welefull by infortune.
Habet hoc voluptas omnis stimulis agit fruentes: Apiumque par volantium ubi gratia mella sudit. Fugit & nimis tenaci ferit icta corda morsu, &c.
EVery delyte hath this, that it anguisheth hem with prickes that usen it. It ressembleth to these flyeng flyes that we clepen Bees, that after that he hath shedde his agreable honnyes, he flyeth away, and stingeth the hertes of hem that been smitten with biting ouerlong holden.
Nihil igitur dubium est, quin hae ad beatitudinem viae devia quaedam sint, nec perducere eo quenquam valeant, &c.
NOw it is no doubt then, that these ways ne been a maner mistidings to blisfulnesse: ne that they ne mowen not seden folk thider, as they beheten to leden hem. But with how great harms these forsaid ways ben enlaced, I shall shew you shortly. For why, if thou enforcest thee to assemble money, thou must byreuen him his money that hath it. And if thou will shinen with dignities, thou must besechen and supplien hem that yeuen tho dignities. And if thou coueitest by honour to gone beforne other folkes, thou shalt defoule thy self thorow humblesse of asking. If thou desirest power, thou shalt by awaits of thy subiects anoyouslie be cast under by many parils. Askest thou glory? thou shalt been so distract by aspre thinges, that thou shalt forgone sikernesse. And if thou woldest leden thy life in delites, euery wight shal dispisen thee & forleten thee, as thou that art thrall to thing, yt is right foule & britel, yt is to saine, seruaunt to thy bodie. Now is it wel yseen, how litel and how brytel possession they coueiten, that putten the goodes of the body aboue her owne reason. For mayst thou surmounten these Olifaunts in greatnesse or in weight of bodie? or mayst thou ben strenger than ye Bull? mayst thou be swifter than the Tygre? Behold the spaces and the stablenesse, and the swift course of Heauen, and stint somtime to wondren on foul things. The which heauen certes nys nat rather for these thinges to be wondren upon, than for the reason by which it is gouerned. But the shyning of thy forme, that is to sayne, the beaute of thy body, how swiftly passing is it, and how transitorie, certes, it is more flitting than the mutabilitie of floures of the sommer season. For so as Aristotel telleth, that if the men had eyen of a beeste that hight Lynx, so that the loking of folk might percen through tho thinges that withstond it: who so looked then in thentrailes of the body of Alcibiades, that was full fayre in the superficie without, it should seme right foule. And for thy, if thou seemest fayre, thy nature ne maketh nat that, but the disceiuaunce of feblenesse of the eyen that loken. But prayse the goods of the body as moch as euer thee list, so that thou know algates that what so it be, that is to saine, of the goodes of the body, which that thou wondrest upon, may been distroyed or els dissolued by the heet of a feuer of three days. Of which foresaid things I may reducen this shortly in a summe, that these worldly goods, which that ne mowen yeuen that they behighten, ne been not parfite by the congregacion of all goods, yt they ne ben not ways ne pathes that bringen men to blisfulnesse, ne maken men to be blisfull.
Heu heu quae miseros tramite devios abducit ignorantia, non aurum in viridi quaeritis, arbore, &c.
ALas, which foly, and which ignorance misleadeth wandring wretches fro the [Page 379] path of very good. Certes ye seken no golde in grene trees, ne ye gadren not precious stones in vines: ne hyden not your ginnes in hie mountains to catch fish, of the which ye may maken rich feests.
And if you like to hunte to Roes, ye ne goe nat to the fords of yt water that hight Thyrene. And ouer this, men know well the crekes and the cauernes of the see yhyd in the floodes, and knowen eke, which water is most plenteous of white perles, and knowen whiche water haboundeth most of reed purpure, yt is to saine, of a maner shelfish, with which men dien purpure: & knowen which strondes habounden most of tendre fishes, or of sharpe fishes, that hight Echines. But folkes suffren hemselfe to ben so blind yt hem ne retchen not to know where thilke goodes ben yhid, which that they coueiten, but plungen hem in yerth, & seken there thilke good that surmounteth the heuen, that beareth ye sterres. What prayer may I maken that be digne to the nice thoughtes of men? But I pray that they coueiten richesse & honours, so that when they haue gotten tho false goods with great trauaile, that therby they mowen knowen the very goodes.
Hactenus mendacis formam faelicitatis ostendisse sufficerit, quod si perspicaciter intuearis, ordo est deinceps, &c.
IT suffiseth that I haue said hyderto, the form of false welefulnesse: so yt if thou looke now clerely, ye order of mine entencion requires from hensforth, to she wen ye very welefulnes. B. Forsoth (qd. I) I see well now, the suffisance may not commen by richesse, ne power by realmes, ne reuerence by dignities, ne gentillesse by glory, ne joy by delices. P. And hast thou wel knowen ye causes (qd. she) why it is? B. Certes me semeth (qd. I) ye I see hem, right as though it were through a litel clifte: But me were leauer knowen hem more openly of thee. Phi. Certes (qd. she) ye reason is al redy. For thilke thinge that simply is one thing without any deuision, yt errour & folly of mankinde, devideth, & departeth it, & misledeth it, & transporteth from very & parfit good, to goodes that be false and vnparfit. But say me this: wenest thou that he that hath need of power, that him ne lacketh nothing? Boetius. Nay, qd. I. Philos. Certes (qd. she) thou sayest aright: for if so be yt there is a thing yt in any partie be febler of power, certes as in yt it mote needs be needy of foraine help. Boetius. Right so it is (qd. I.) Philos. Suffisaunce & power ben of one kind. Boet. So semeth qd. I.) Philosophie. And demest thou (qd. she) that a thing yt is of this maner, yt is to say, suffisaunt & mighty, ought ben dispised, or els that it be right digne of reuerence aboue all things? Boet. Certes (qd. I) it is no doubte that it is right worthy to be reuerenced. Phil. Let vs adden (qd. she) reuerence to suffisaunce & to power, so that we demen that these thre things be one thing. Boetius. Certes (qd. I) let vs adden it if we will graunt yt soth. P. What demest thou (qd. she) then is yt a derk thing & not noble, yt is suffisant, reuerent, and mighty? or els that it is right noble & right clere by celebrate of renome? Consider then (qd. she) as we haue graunted here byforne y• he that ne hath no need of nothing, and is most mighty and most digne of honour, if him needeth any clerenesse of renome, which clerenesse hee might not graunten of himselfe, so for lacke of thilke clerenesse he might semen the febler on any side, or the more outcast. Glose. That is to say, nay: For who so yt is suffisaunt, mighty, & reuerent, clerenesse of renome foloweth of the foresaid thinges: he hath it all ready of his suffisaunce. Boetius. I may not, qd. I, deny it, but I mote graunten as it is, that this thing is right celebrable by clerenesse of renome and noblesse. P. Then followeth, qd. she, that we adden clerenesse of renome to ye foresaid things, so that there be amongs hem no difference. B. This is a consequence, qd. I. P. This thing then, qd. she, that ne hath nede of no foraine thing, and that may do all things by his strengthes, & that is noble & honourable, is it not a mery thing and joyful? Boetius. But whence, qd. I, that any sorowe might come to this thing that is soche, certes I may not thinke. Philosophie. Then mote wee graunten, qd. shee, that this thing be ful of gladnesse, if the foresaid things be sothe. And certes, also mote we graunten, that suffisance, power, noblesse, reuerence, and gladnesse, be onely diuers by names, but her substaunce hath no diuersite. Boetius. It mote needly be so, qd. I. Philosoph. Thilke thing then, qd. she, that is one & simple in his nature, ye wickednesse of men departeth and deuideth it: And when they enforcen hem to getten partie of a thinge, that ne hath no part, they ne getten hem neyther thilke partie that nys none, ne the thing all whole y• they desire. Boetius. In which manere, qd. I. Philosophie. Thilke man, qd. she, that secheth richesse to flyen pouerty, he ne trauaileth him not for to get power, for he hath leauer be derke and vyle, and eke withdraweth from himselfe many naturell delytes, for hee nolde lese the money that he hath assembled. But certes in this maner he ne getteth him no suffisaunce, that power foreleteth, and that molestie pricketh, and that filthe maketh out-caste, and that derkenesse hideth. And certes he that desireth only power, wasteth and scattereth richesse, and despiseth delyces and eke honour that is without power, ne he ne prayseth glory nothing. Certes this seest thou well that many things faylen to him: For he hath sometime defaute of many necessitees, and many anguishes byten hym. And when he may not done tho defaltes away, he forletteth to be mighty, and that is the thyng that he most desyreth. And right thus may I make semblable [Page 380] reasons of honour, of glory, & of delices: For so euery of these foresaid things is the same y• these other things been, that is to saine, al one thing. Whosoeuer seketh to getten that one of these, and not yt other, he ne getteth not that he desireth. Boetius. What sayest thou then, if that a man coueite to getten all these things togider. Philoso. Certes (qd. she) I wold say yt he would get him souerain blisfulnes, but yt shall he not finde in tho things that I haue shewed, yt mowe not yeue that they beheten. Boetius. Certes no (qd. I.) Phi. Then (qd. she) ne shullen men not by no way seken blisfulnes in soch things, as men wenen that they ne mowe gyuen but one thyng singlerly of all that menne seken. Boetius. I graunt well (qd. I) ne non sother thing may be said. Philosoph. Now hast thou then (qd. she) the forme & the cause of false welefulnesse: Now turne and flitte againe to thy thought, for there shall thou seene anon thilke very blisfulnesse that I haue behight thee. B. Certes (qd. I) it is clere & open, thogh it were to a blind man: And yt shewdest thou me a litel here be forne, when thou enforcedest thee to shew me the causes of ye false welefulnesse. For (but if I be begiled) then is yt thilke very blisfulnesse and parfite, that parfitly maketh a man suffisaunt, mighty, honourable, noble and ful of gladnesse. And for thou shalt well knowe, that I haue well vnderstanden these things within my hart: I know well, that thilke blisfulnesse yt men verely yeuen one of ye foresaid things, sens they be all one: I know doubtlesse that thilke thing is full of blisfulnesse. Philosophie. O my norice (qd. she) by this opinion I say that thou art blisfull, if thou put this thereto that I shall sain. Boetius. What is that (qd. I.) Ph. Trowest thou yt there be any thing in this erthly mortall tombling things, yt may bringen this estate? Bo. Certes (qd. I) I trow it not: & thou hast shewed me wel, yt ouer thilk good there nis nothing more to ben desired. P. These things then (qd. she) yt is to saine, earthly suffisaunce and power, & soch things erthly, they semen likenesse of very good, or els it seemeth that they yeuen to mortall folke a maner of goodnesse, that ne be not parfite, but thilke good that is very and parfite, that may they not yeuen. Boe. I accord me well (qd. I.) Phil. Then (qd. she) for as moch as thou haste knowen which is thilke very blisfulnes, and eke which thilke things ben, yt lien falsely blisfulnesse, that is to say, yt they by deceite semen very goodes: Now behoueth thee to knowe whence & where thou mow seke thilke very blisfulnesse. B. Certes (qd. I) yt desire I greatly, & haue abyden longe tyme to herken it. P. But for as moch (qd. she) as it liketh to my disciple Plato in his book of Tymeo, that in right littell things men shoulden beseche ye help of God: What judgest thou yt be now to done, so that wee may deserue to find ye seat of thilke souerein God? B. Certes (qd. I) I denie yt we shullen cleape to the father of all goodes, for withouten him nys there nothing founded aright. P. Thou saiest aright (qd. she) & began anon to singen right thus.
O qui perpetua mundum ratione gubernas, Terrarum caelique sator, qui tempus ab aevo, Ire jubes, stabilis (que) manens dans cuncta moveri: Quem non externae pepulerunt fingere causae, &c.
O Thou father, soueraigne and creatour of heauen and of erthes, that gouernest this World by pardurable reason, that commandest the times to gone, sith that age had beginning. Thou that dwellest thy selfe aye stedfast and stable, and yeuest al other things to be meued, ne foryeue causes ne cesseden thee neuer to compoun werke of flattering mater, but onely the forme of souerain good yset, within thee without enuy, that meued thee frely. Thou that art alder fayrest, hearing the fayre world in thy thought, formedest this world to thy likenesse semblable, of that fayre world in thy thought. Thou drawest all thing on thy soueraine ensampler, and commaundest that this world perfetlich ymaked, haue freely & absolute his perfite parties. Thou bindest y• elements by nombres proporcionables, that the cold thinges mowen accorden with the hotte thinges, and the drie things with the moist: That the fire, that is purest, ne flie nat ouer hie, ne that the heauinesse ne draw nat adoun ouerlow the yerthes, yt be plonged in the waters. Thou knittest togider ye meane soul of treble kind mouing all things, & deuidest it by membres according. And when it is thus deuided, it hath assembled amouing in to roundes, it goeth to turne againe to himself, and enuironneth a full deepe thought, and turneth the heuen by a semblable image. Thou by euen lyke causes enhancest the soules and the lesse liues, and abling hem to height by light waines or cartes. Thou sowest hem in to heauen and in to yerth, and when they be conuerted to thee by thy benigne law, thou makest hem returne ayen to thee by ayen ledyng fyre. O father, yeue thou to yt thought to styen vp in to thy straite seate, & graunt hem to enuironne the wel of good. And ye light yfound, graunt him to sixen ye clere sights of his courage in thee, and scatter thou and to breake ye weyghts and the clouds of earthly heauinesse, & shine thou by thy brightnesse. For thou art clerenesse, thou art pesyble rest to debonayre folk, thou thy selfe art beginning, bearer, leder, path, & terme to look on thee that is our end.
Quoniam igitur, quae sit imperfecti, quae etiam perfecti boni forma vidisti, nunc demonstrandum reor, &c.
FOrasmoche then, as thou hast seen which is the forme of good that nys not parfite, and the forme of good which that is parfite. Now trow I yt it were good to shew in what [Page 381] this perfection of blisfulnes is set. And in this thing I trow that we shall first enquire for to weten, if that any soch maner good, as thilke good as thou hast diffinished a litell here beforne, that is to saine, soueraine good, may be found in the nature of things. For that vaine imagination of thought ne desceue vs not, and put vs out of the sothefastnesse of thylke thyng yt is submitted to vs. But it may not be denied that thilke ne is, and that is right as a well of all goodes. For all thing that is cleped imparfite is proued imparfite by ye amenusing of perfection of thinge that is parfite. And hereof commeth it that euery thing generall, if that men sene any thing that is imparfite, certes in thilke thinge is generall, there mote be some thing that is parfite. For if so be yt perfection is don away, men may not thinke ne say from whence thilke thing is, that is cleped imparfite. For the nature ne toke not her beginning of thinges amenused and imparfite, but it procedeth of thinges that been all hole absolute, & discendeth so down in to ye vttrest things, and into things empty and without fruite. But as I haue shewed a little here beforne, that if that there be a blisfulness that be freele, & vain, & imperfite, there may no man doubt that there nis some blisfulnesse that there is sad, stedfast and parfite. Boecius. This is concluded (qd. I) firmely & soothfastly. Phi. But consider also (qd. she) in whom this blisfulnesse inhabiteth. The commune accord and conceit of the courage of men proueth & graunteth, that God, prince of all things, is good. For so as nothing may be thought better than good, it may not be doubted then, than he yt nothing nys better than he, nys good. Certes, reason sheweth that God is so good, that it proveth by very force, that perfite good is in him. For if God nis such, he ne may not ben prince of al thing. For certes, some thing possessing in it self perfite good, should be more worthy than God: and it should seemen, that thilke thing were first and older than God. For we haue shewed apertly, that all things that ben parfite, been first, or things that ben imparfite. And for thy, forasmuch as that my reason, or my processe, ne go not a way without an end, we owen to granten, that the soueraigne good is right full of soueraign perfit good. And we have established, that the soueraign good is very blisfulnes: then mote it needs be, that very blisfulnes is set in soveraigne good. Boecius. This take I well (qd. I) ne this ne may not be withsaid in no manner. Philos. But I pray thee (qd. she) see now how thou mayest proven holily, and withouten corrupcion, this that we have sayd, that the soueraign God is full of right soueraigne good. Bo. In which manner (qd. I.) Phil. Wenest thou aught (qd. she) that the father of all things hath taken thilke soveraigne good any where out of himself? Of which soueraigne good, men proueth that he is full. Right as thou mightest thinken, that God, that hath blisfulnes in himself, and thilk blisfulnese that is in him were divers in substance. For if thou wene that God hath received thilke good out of himselfe, thou mayest wene, that he that yaue thilke good to God, be more worthy than God. But I am beknow and confesse, and that right dignely, that God is right worthy above all things: And if so be that this good be in him by nature, but that is diverse from him by wening reason, sens we speaken of God, prince of all things. Faine whoso faine may, who was he that conioined these things together. And eke at the last, see well, that a thing yt is divers fro any thing, that thilke thing nis not the same thing, for which it is vnderstanden to ben diuers. Then followeth it well, that thilke thing yt by his nature is divers from soueraigne good, that thing is not soueraigne good. But certes, it were a felonous cursednesse, to thinken that of him, that nothing nis more worth. For alway, of all things, the name of hem ne may not ben better than her beginner. For which I may concluden, by right very reason, that thilke that is beginning of all things, thilke same thing is soueraigne God in his substance. Bo. Thou hast said rightfully (qd I.) Pholos. But we have graunted (qd. she) that the soueraigne good is blisfulnesse. Bo. That is sooth (qd. I.) Philos. Then, qd. she, we mote needs graunten & confessen, that the ilke same soueraigne good be God. Boe. Certes, qd. I, I ne may not deny, ne withstande the reasons purposed, and I see well that it followeth by strength of the premisses. Philos. Look now, qd. she, if this be proved yet more firmely thus, that there ne mowen not been two soueraigne goods, that ben diverse among hemselfe. For certes, the goods that been diverse among hemselfe, that one is not that the other is. Then ne mowen neither of hem be perfite, so as either of hem lacketh to other, but that that nis not perfite, men may seene apertly that it nis not soveraigne. The things then yt be soveraignly good, ne mowen by no way be divers. But I have well concluded, that blisfulnesse and GOD been the soueraigne good, for which it mote needs been that soveraigne blisfulnesse is sovereign dignity. Boe. Nothing, qd. I, is more soothfast than this, ne more firme by reason, ne a more worthy thing than God, may not be concluded.
Philoso. Vpon these things then, qd. she, right as these Geometricians, when they have shewed their propositions, been wont to bringen in things, yt they clepen porrismes, or declarations of foresaid things: right so woll I yeue thee here, as a Corollary, or a mede of crowne. For why, for as much as by the getting of blisfulnesse men been maked blisful, and blisfulnesse is dignity: then it is manifest and open, that by the getting of dignity men ben maked blisful, right as by the getting of Iustice. And by yt getting of Sapience they be maked wise, right so, needs by the semblable reason, when they haue gotten [Page 382] diuinitie, they be made gods. Then is every man blisful a god. But certes by nature there nis but one God, but by the participation of the Diuinity, there ne letteth ne distourbeth nothing, that there ne be many gods. Bo. This is, qd. I, a fair thing and a precious. clepe it as thou wilt, be it Corollary, or Porrisme, or mede of Croune, or declaring. P. Certes (qd. she) nothing nis fairer than is the thing, that by reason shuld be added to these foresaid things. Bo. What thing, (qd. I.) Ph. So, qd. she, as it seemeth that blisfulnesse containeth many things, it were for to weten, whether that all these things maken or conioynen, as a manner body of blisfulnesse, by the diversity of parties of members, or else if any of all these things be such, that it accomplish by himselfe the substaunce of blisfulnesse. So all these other things been referred and brought to blisfulnesse, that is to say, as to the cheef of hem. Bo. I would, qd. I, that thou madest me clearly to understand what thou sayest, and with what thou recordest me the foresaid things. Phi. Have I not judged, qd. she, that blisfulnesse is good? Boe. Yes forsooth, qd. I, and that soueraigne good. Phi. Adde then, qd. she, thilke good that is made blisfulnesse to all the foresaid things: For thilke same blisfulnesse, that is deemed to be soueraign suffisaunce, thilke selfe is soueraigne power, soueraigne reuerence, soveraigne clearenesse or noblesse, and soueraigne delite.
What sayst thou then of all these things, that is to say, suffisaunce, power, and these other things? Been they then as members of blisfulnesse, or been they referred and brought to soueraigne good, right as all things that been brought to the cheef of hem? Bo. I understond well, qd. I, what thou purposest to seek: but I desire for to hearken, that thou shew it to me. Ph. Take now thus the discretion of this question, qd. she. If all these things, qd. she, weren members to felicitie, then weren they divers that one from that other: and such is the nature of parties or of members, that divers members compounen a body. Bo. Certes, qd. I, it hath well ben shewed here beforne, that all these things ben all one thing. Phi. Then been they no members, qd. she. For els it should seem, that blisfulnesse were comoyned all of o member alone, but that is a thing may not be done. Bo. This thing, qd. I, then nis not doubtous, but I abide to hearken the remenaunt of thy question. This is open and cleare, qd. she, that all other things ben referred and brought to good: For therefore is suffisaunce required, for it is deemed to be good: and for thy, is power required, for men trowen also that it be good. And this same thing mowen we thinken, and conjecten of reuerence, of noblesse, and of delite. Then is soueraigne good the summe and the cause of all that ought to been desired. For why, thilke thing that withholdeth no good in it self, ne semblaunce of good, it ne may not well in no manner be desired ne required. And the contrary: for though that things by her nature ne ben not good, algates if men wenen that they been good, yet ben they desired, as though they were verely good. And therefore it is said, that men ought to wene by right, that bounty be the soueraigne fine, and the cause of all the things that ben to requiren. But certes, thilke that is cause, for which men requiren any thing, it seemeth that thilke same thing be most desired, as thus: if that a wight would riden for cause of heale, he ne desireth not so much the mooving to riden, as the effect of his heale. Now then sens that all things ben required for the grace of good, they ne ben not desired of all folke, more than the same good. But we have graunted, that blisfulnesse is that same thing, for which that all these other things ben desired. Then is it thus, that certes onely blisfulnesse is required and desired. By which thing it sheweth clerely, that of good and blisfulnesse is all one and the same substance. Bo. I see not, qd. I, wherefore that men might discorden in this. Philos. And we have shewed, that God and very blisfulnesse is all one thing. Bo. That is sooth, qd. I. Phi. Then mow we conclude sikerly, that the substaunce of God is set in thilke same good, and in none other place.
Huc omnes pariter venite capti. Quos fallax ligat improbis catenis. Terrenas habitans libido mentes. Hic erit vobis requies laborum, &c.
COmmeth all together now ye that been ycaught and bound with wicked chains, by the delite of earthly things inhabiting in your thought. Here shall be the rest of your labour: here is the haven stable, in quiete pesible. This alone is the open refute to wretches, that is to sain, that ye that be combred and deceiued with worldly affections, commeth now to this soveraine good, that is, God, that is refute to hem that willen commen to him. All the things y• the river Tagus yeueth you, with his golden gravels: or els all the things that the river Hermus yeueth with his red brink: or that Indus yeueth, that is next the hote partie of the world, that medleth the green stones with the white: ne should not cleren the looking of your thouȝt, but hiden rather your blind corage within her derknes. All that liketh you here, and exciteth and moueth your thoughts, the earth hath nourished it within his low caues. But the shining, by which the heaven is governed, and whence that his strength, that escheweth the dark ouerthrowing of the soul, and whosoever may knowen thilke light of blisfulnesse, he will saine, that the white beams of the Sunne ne be not cleare.
Assentior (inquam) cuncta enim firmissimis nexa rationibus constant. Tum illa, quanti, inquit, tu aestimabis, si bonum ipsum, quid sit, agnoveris, &c.
BOecius. I assent me, qd. I, for all things ben strongly bounden with right ferme reasons. Philosophie. How much wilt thou praisen it, qd. she, if that thou knowest what the like good is? Boecius. I woll praise it, qd. I, by price without end, if it shall betide me to know also togither God that is good. Philosophie. Certes, qd. she, that shall I doe thee by very reason, if that tho things, that I have concluded a little here beforne, dwellen onely in her graunting. Boecius. They dwellen graunted to thee, qd. I, that is to saine, as who saith, I graunt to thy foresaied conclusions. Philosophie. I haue shewed thee, qd. she, that the things that been required of many folke, ne been not very goods, ne perfite: for they ben diuers, that one from that other. And so as each of hem is lacking to other, they ne haue no power to bring a good, that is full and absolute. But then at erst been they very good, when they been gathered togider all into one forme, and into one werking: so that thilke thing that is suffisaunt, thilke same is power, and reuerence, noblesse, & mirth. And forsooth, but if all these things be al one same thing, they ne haue not whereby that they mowe be put in ye number of things that ought to be required and desired. Bo. It is shewen. qd. I, ne hereof may there no man doubten. Philosophie. The thynges then, qd. she, that ne been no goodes, when they ben diuers, and when they beginnen to be all one thing, then ben they goods, ne commeth it not then, by the getting of unitie, that they be maked goods? Boeci. So seemeth it, qd. I. Philoso. But all thyng that is good, qd. she, grauntest thou that it be good, by the participation of good or no? Boecius. I grant it, qd. I. Philoso. Then must thou graunten, qd. she, by semblable reason, that one and good be one same thing. For of things, of which the effect nis not naturally diuers, nedes her substaunce must be one same thing. Boecius. I ne may not denie it, qd. I. Philosophie. Hast thou not knowen wel, qd. she, that all things that is, hath so long his dwelling and his sustaunce, as long as it is one: but when it forletteth to been one, it must needs dien, and corrumpen together? Boecius. In which manner, qd. I. Philoso. Right as in beasts, qd. she, when the soule and the bodie been conioyned in one, and dwelling together, it is cleped a beast; and when her unitie is destroyed, by thy disceueraunce of that one from that other, then sheweth it well, that it is a dead thing, and it is no lenger no beast.
And the bodie of a wight, while it dwelleth in one forme, by coniunction of members, it is well seene, that it is a figure of mankind: And if the parties of the bodie be diuided and disceuered that one from that other, that they destroy the unitie, the bodie forletteth to be that it was beforne. And who so would ren in the same manner by all things, he should seen that without doubt euery thing is in his substance, as long as it is one: and when it forletteth to be one, it dieth and perisheth.
Bo. When I consider, qd. I, many things, I see none other. Philosophie. Is there any thing, qd. she, that in as much as it liueth naturally, that foreletteth that talent or appetite of his being, and desireth to come to death and to corrupcion? Boe. If I consider, qd. I, the beastes, that haue any manner nature of willing and of nilling, I ne find no beast, but if it be constrained fro withoutforth, that foreletteth or despiseth the entencion to liuen and to duren, or that will his thankes hasten him to dien.
For euery beast trauaileth him to desende and keep the saluacion of his life, & escheweth death and destruction. But certes, I doubt me of herbes and trees, that ne haue no feling Soules, ne no natural workings, seruing to appetites, as beasts haue, whether they haue appetite to dwellen and to duren.
Philosophie. Certes, qd. she, thereof dare thee not doubt. Now looke upon ye Hearbes and Trees, for they wexen first in such places as been conuenable to hem: in whiche places they mowe not dien ne drien, as long as her nature may defend hem. For some of hem wexen in Fields, and some wexen in Mountaines, & other wexe in Mareis, and other cleauen on rocks, & some wexen plenteous in sondes. And if any wight enforce him to bear hem into other places, they wexen drye. * For nature yeueth to euery thing that is conuenient to hem, and trauayleth that they ne die, as long as they haue power to dwellen & to liuen. What wilt thou sain of this, yt they drawen all her nouryshings by her roots, right as they hadden her mouths yplunged within the earthes, & shedden by her mareis her wood & her barke? And what wilt thou saine of this, that the ilke thing that is right soft, as the marie is, that is alway hid in the seat of all within, and that is defended from without, by the stedfastnesse of wood, and that the utterest Barks is put ayenst yt distemperaunce of the heauen, as a defendour, mightie to sufferen harme? And thus certes mayest thou well seene, how great is the diligence of nature: for all things renouelen and publishen hem with seed ymultiplied.
Ne there nis no man, that ne wote well, that they ne been right as a foundement & edifice, for to duren not onely for a time, but right as for to dure perdurably by generacion. And ye things eke yt men wenen ne haue no souls, ne desire they not by semblable reason to keep that is his, yt is to saine, yt is according to her nature, in conseruacion of her [Page 384] being and enduring? For wherefore els beareth lightnesse the flames vp, and the weight presseth the yearth adoun, but for as much as thilke place and thilke mouings be couenable to eueriche of hem. And forsooth, euery thing keepeth thilke that is according and proper to him, right as things that ben contrarious and enemies corrumpen hem. And yet the hard things (as stones) cleauen and holden her parties togither right fast and hard, and defenden hem in withstanding, that they ne departen lightly, and yeuen place to hem, that breaken or deuiden hem: but nathelesse, they retourne ayen soone into the same things from whence they be araced. But fire fleeth and refuseth all deuision. Ne I ne treat not now here of wilful moouings of the soule that is knowing, but of naturell entencion of things, as thus: right as we swallowen the meat that we receiuen, and ne think not on it, and as we draw our breath in sleeping, that we were not while we sleepen. For certes in the beasts, the loue of her liuings, ne of her beings, ne commeth not of the w [...]nings of the soule, but of the beginnings of nature. For certes, through constrayning causes, will desireth and embraceth full oft times the death, that nature dredeth, that is to saine, as thus: That a man may be constrayned so by some cause, that his will desireth, and taketh the death, which that nature hateth and dreadeth full sore. And sometime we seen the contrary, as thus: that the will of a wight disturbeth and constraineth that, that nature alway desireth and requireth, that is to say, the werkes of generacion, by the which generacion only dwelleth, and is sustayned the long durabilitie of mortal things, as thus: This charitie and this loue, that euery thing hath to himself, ne commeth not of the mouing of the soul, but of the entencion of nature. For the purueyaunce of God hath yeuen to things, that ben create of him this, that is a full great cause to liuen and to duren, for which they desiren naturelly her life, as long as euer they mowen: for which thou maist not dreaden by no manner, that all things that been any where, that they ne requiren naturally the firm stablenesse of perdurable dwelling, and eke the eschewing of destruction.
Boeci. I confesse (qd. I) that I see well now, and certainely, withouten doubt, the things that a while ago seemeden vncertain to me. Philos. But (qd. she) thilk thing that desireth to be and dwell perdurably, he desireth to been one: for if that one were destroyed, certes, being should there none dwellen to no wight. Boecius. That is sooth (qd. I.) Philosophie. Then (qd. she) desiren all things one. Boecius. I assent (qd. I) Philosophie. And I haue shewed (qd. she) that ilke same one is thilke that is good. Boecius. Ye forsooth (qd. I) Philosophie. All things then (qd. she) requiren good, and thilke maist thou discriuen thus: good is thilke thing that euery wight desireth. Boecius. There ne may be thought no more very thing (qd. I) for either all things be referred and brought to nought, and flotten without gouernour dispoiled of one, as of her proper head: or els if there be any thing, to which that all things tenden and hyen to, that thing must be the soueraign good of all goods. Philosophie. Then said she thus: O my nourice (qd. she) I haue great gladnesse of thee, for thou hast fixed in thy hart the middle soothfastnesse, that is to saine, the pricke: but this thing hath be discouered to thee, in that thou saidest, that thou wistest not a little here beforne. Boecius. What is that (qd. I) Philos. That thou ne wistest not (qd. she) which was the end of things, and certes, that is the thing that euery wight desireth. And for as much as we haue gathered and comprehended, that good is thilk thing that is desired of all, then mote we needs confesse, that good is the fine of all things.
Quisquis profunda mente vestigat verum. Cupitque nullis ille deviis falli, in se revolvat intimi lucem visus, &c.
WHo so seeketh sooth by a deep thought, and coueiteth to beene disceyued by no miswayes, let him rollen and treaten within himselfe, the light of his inward sight: and let him gatheren ayen, enclyning into a compace, the long moouinges of his thoughts. And let him teachen his courage, that hee hath enclosed and hidde in his treasours all that he hath compassed or sought from without: and then thilke thing, that the blacke cloudes of errour whylome had couered, shall light more clearely than Phebus himselfe ne shineth. Glosa. Who so woll seeke the deepe grounds of sooth in his thought, and woll not be deceyued by false proposicions that gone amisse from the troth, let him well examine and rolle within himselfe the nature and properties of the thing. And let him eftsoons examine and rollen his thoughts, by good deliberacion, or that he deme. And let him teachen his soul, that it hath by naturell principles kindliche thidde within it self all the trouth, ye which he imagineth to been in things without: & then all the darknesse of his misknowing shall seme more euidently to y• sight of his vnderstanding, than the Sun ne semeth to the sight withoutforth. For certes, the bodie bringing y• weight of foryeting, ne hath not chased out of your thought all y• clerenesse of your knowing: for certainly, the seed of sooth holdeth & cleaueth within your corage, and it is awaked and excited by the winds, and by the blasts of doctrine.
For wherefore els deemen ye of your own will ye rights, when ye be asked, but if so were that the nourishing of reason ne liued yplunged in the deep of your heart: that is to sain, how should men demen y• sooth of any thing [Page 385] that were asked, and if there nere a root of soothfastnesse, that were yplunged and hid in naturel principles, the which soothfastnesse liued within the deepnesse of the thought? And if it be so, that the muse and the doctrine of Plato singeth footh, all that euery wight learneth, he ne doeth nothing els then, but recordeth, as men recorden thyngs that ben foryetten.
Tum ego, Platoni (inquam) vehementer assentior. Nam me horum jam secundo commemoras. Primum quod memoriam corporea contagione, &c.
THen said I thus: I accord me greatly to Plato, for thou recordest and remembrest me these thyngs yet the second time, that is to say, when first I left my memory by the contrarious conjunction of the body with the soule: and eftsoones afterward, when I lost it, confounded by thy charge, and by the burden of my sorrow: and then sayed she thus. If thou look (qd. she) first the thyngs that thou hast graunted, it ne shall not been right ferre, that thou ne shalt remembren the ilke thing that thou saidest that thou nistest not. Bo. What thing (qd. I.) Philos. By which ye gouernment (qd. she) that this world is governed. Bo. I remember it well (qd. I) and I confesse well, that I ne wist it naught. But all be it so, that I see now from afarre what thou purposest, algates I desire yet to hearken it of thee more plainly. Phil. Thou ne wendest not (qd. she) a little here beforne ye men should dout, that this world is governed by God. Bo. Certes (qd. I) ne yet, ne dout I it not, ne I nill neuer wene that it were to dout: as who saith but I wot well that God gouerneth this world. And I shall answeren thee by what reasons I am brought to this. This world, qd. I, of so many divers and contrarious parties, ne might never have ben assembled in o forme, but if there were one, that conioyned so many divers things. And the same diversitie of her natures, that so discorden, that one fro that other must departen, and vnioynen the things y• been conioyned, if there ne were one that contained that he hath conioyned & ybound. Ne the certaine order of nature ne should not bring forth so ordeyne mouings, by places, by times, by dooings, by spaces, by qualities, if there ne were one that were aye stedfast dwelling, that ordained & disposed these diversities of moouings. And thilke thing, whatsoeuer it be, by which that all things be ymaked and ladde, I clepe him God, that is a word that is used to all folks. Phil. Then said she: Sith thou felest thus these things, I trow that I have little more to doen, that thou, mighty of welefulnesse, hole and sound, ne see eftsoones thy country. But let us looken these things that we have purposed here beforne. Have I not numbred and said (qd. she) that suffisaunce is in blisfulnesse. And we have accorded, that God is the ilke same blisfulnesse. Bo. Yes forsooth, (qd. I.) Philos. And that to gouern this world, qd. she, ne shall he neuer haue need of none help fro without. For els if he had need of any help, he ne should not have no full suffisaunce. Boet. Yes thus it mote needs be (qd. I.) Philos. Then ordeyned he by himselfe alone all things (qd. she.) Boet. That may not be denied, qd. I. Philos. And I haue shewed that God is the same good. Bo. It remembreth me well, qd. I. Philosoph. Then ordeyneth he all things by thilke good, qd. she, sith he which we han accorded to be good, gouerneth all things by himselfe. And he is a key and a steire, by which the edifice of this world is kept stable, and without corrumping. Bo. I accord me greatly, qd. I. And I haue apperceived a little here beforne, that thou wouldest say thus: all were it so that it were by a thinne suspection. Phi. I trow well, qd. she. For as I trow thou leadest now more ententifely thine eye to looken the very goods. But natheles, the thing that I shall tell thee, yet ne sheweth not lasse to token. Bo. What is that, qd. I. Phil. So as men trow, qd. she, and that rightfully, that God gouerneth all things by the key of his goodnesse. And all these same things that I haue taught thee, hasten hem by natural contencion to come to good, there may no man doubten, that they ne be gouerned voluntarily. And that they ne conuerten hem of her own good will to her ordeynour. As that they ben according, and enclining to her gouernour and to her king. Bo. It mote needs be so, qd. I, for the realme ne should not seme blisful, if there were a yoke of misdrawings in divers parties, ne the sauing of obedient things ne should not be then. Phi. Is there nothing, qd. she, that keepeth his nature, that enforceth him to gone ayenst God? Boet. No, qd. I. Philos. And if that any thing enforced him to withstande God, might it avaylen at last ayen him, that we haue graunted to be Almighty by the right of blisfulnesse? Certes, qd. I, all utterly it ne might not auayle him. Philos. Then is there nothing, qd. she, that either may or will withstand to his Soveraigne God. Bo. I trow not, qd. I. Philos. Then, qd. she, is thilke the Soueraigne GOD, that all things gouerneth strongly, and ordayneth hem softely. Boetius. Then said I thus, I delite me, qd. I, not onely in the ends, or in the summe of the reasons, that thou hast concluded and proued, but thilke words that thou usest deliten me much more, so that at last, fooles, that sometime renden great thyngs, oughten been ashamed of hemselfe, that is to sain, that we fooles that reprehenden wickedly the thinges that touchen Gods gouernaunce, we oughten been ashamed of our selfe. As I, that sayed, that God refuseth onely the werkes of men, and ne entermeteth not of it. Phi. Thou hast well heard, qd. she, the fables of the Poets, how the Gyaunts [Page 386] assaileden heauen with the gods: but forsooth the debonaire force of God disposed hem as it was worthy, that is to sain, destroyed the Gyaunts as it was worthy. But wilt thou that we rejoynen together thilk same reasons? For perauenture of such conjunctions may sterten vp some fair spark of sooth. Boecius. Do (qd. I) as thee list. Philosophy. Wenest thou (qd. she) that God ne be almighty? Boecius. No man is in doubt of it certes (qd. I.) Philosophy. No wight ne doubteth it, if he be in his mind (qd. she.) But he that is almighty, there nis nothing that he ne may. Boecius. That is sooth (qd. I.) Philosophy. May God do euil (qd. she?) Boe. Nay forsoth (qd. I.) Phi. Then is euil nothing (qd. she) sith that he may doen none euil, that may doen all things. Boecius. Scornest thou me (qd. I) or els playest thou, or deceiuest thou me, that hast so wonnen with thy reasons, the house of Dedalus so enterlacing, that it is vnable to be vnlaced, that thou otherwhile enterest there thou issuest, and otherwhile issuest there thou enterest. Ne foldest thou not togither, by replicacion of words, a manner wonderful circle, or enuironning of the simplicity diuine. For certes, a little here beforne, when thou began at blisfulnesse, thou saidest that it is a souerain good, and y• God is the blisfulnesse, for which thou yaue me as a couenable yeft, that is to sain, that no wight nis blisful, but if he be God also therewith. And saidest eke, that the form of good is the substance of God and of blisfulnesse. And saidest, y• thilke one is thilk same good, that is required and desired of all the kind of things. And thou prouedst in disputing, that God gouerneth all the things of the world by the gouernance of bounty, and saidest that all things would obeyen to him, and saidest that y• nature of euil is nothing. And these things shewedst thou not with no reasons taken fro without, but by prooues in cercles and homeliche knowing. The which prooues drawen to hemself her faith and her accord, eueriche of hem of other. Philosophy. Then said she thus: I ne scorn not, ne play, ne deceiue thee, but I haue shewed the thing that is greatest ouer all things, by y• yeft of God, that we whylom praiden. For this is the form of diuine substaunce, that is such, that it ne slideth not into vtterest forrain things, ne receyueth not no straunge things in him. But right as Permenides said in Greek of thilk diuine substaunce: He said thus, * That thilk diuine substaunce tourneth the world, and the moouable cercle of things, while the ilke diuine substaunce kepeth it self without moouings, that is to saine, that he mooueth neuer mo, and yet it moueth all other things. But nathelesse, if I haue styred reasons, that be not taken fro without the compasse of the thing of the which we treaten, but reasons that ben bestowed within compasse: there nis not why thou shouldest meruaylen, sith thou hast learned by the sentence of Plato, * That needes the wordes mote been cosins to the things of which they speaken.
Felix qui potuit boni, Fontem visere lucidum. Felix qui potuit gravis, &c.
BLessed is that man that may seene the clere well of good: Blisfull is he that may vnbinden him from the bounds of heauy earth. The Poet of Thrace, Orpheus, that whylom had right great sorrow for the death of his wife. After that he had maked and constrayned by his weepely songs the woods mouable to renne, and had maked the riuers to stonden still, and had maked the Harts and Hindes to joynen dredelesse her sides to cruell Lions, to hearken his song, and had maked that the Hare was not agast of the Hound, which was pleased by song: So when the most ardaunt loue of his wife brend the entrails of his breast, ne the songs that had ouercommen all things, ne mighten not assuagen her lord Orpheus. He plained him of the heauen gods, which that were cruel to him: he went him to the houses of the hell: And he tempered his blandishing songs, by resouning of strings, & spekest and song in weeping, all yt euer he had receiued, and laued out of ye noble wells of his mother Caliope y• goddes. And he sang with as much as he might of weeping, & with as much as loue, that doubled his sorow, might yeuen him and teach him, and commoued the hell, and required and besought by sweet praier y• lords of souls in hell of releasing, that is to say, to yeelden him his wife. Cerberus the porter of hell, with his three heads, was caught and all abashed of the new song. And the three goddesses, Furies and vengeresses of fellonies, that tormenten and agasten the souls, by annoy woxen sorrowfull and sorry, and teares wepten for pity. Tho was not y• head of Ixion tourmented by the ouerthrowing wheele. And Tantalus, yt was destroyed by the woodnesse of long thurst, dispised y• floods to drink. The foul, that hight Vultor, that eateth the stomack or the gisern of Tytius, is so fulfilled of his song, that it nill eaten ne tyren no more. At the last the lord and judg of souls was moued to misericordies, & cried, we been ouercommen (qd. he) yeue we to Orpheus his wife to beare him companie, he hath well ybought her by his songs and his dities: but we will putten a law in this, and couenant in the yeft, that is to sain, that till he be out of hell, if he look behind him, that his wife shall come again vnto vs. * But what is he that may yeue a law to louers? loue is a greater law, and stronger to himself than any law that men may yeuen. Alas, when Orpheus and his wife were almost at the terms of the night, that is to sain, at y• last bounds of hell, Orpheus looked backward on Euridice his wife, and lost her, and was dead. This fable appertaineth to you all, whosoeuer desireth or seeketh to lead his thought into the souerain [Page 387] day, that is to say, to clearnesse of soueraign good. For whosoeuer be so ouercommen, that he fixe his eyen into the pit of hell, that is to saine, who so euer set his thoughts in earthly thinges, all that euer he hath drawen of the noble good celestiall, he leseth it, when he looketh to the hells, that is to sain, into low things of the earth.
Haec cum Philosophia dignitate vultus, & oris gravitate servata, leviter suaviterque cecinisset, Tum ego nondum penitus insiti maeroris oblitus, &c.
WHEN Philosophy had songen softly and delectably the foresaid thynges, keeping the dignitie of her chere, and the weight of her wordes. I then that ne had all utterly foryeten the weeping and the mourning that was set in mine hert, forbrake the entencion of her, that entended yet to sayne some other things.
O (qd. I) thou that art guideresse of very light, the things that thou hast said me hitherto, ben to me so clere, and shewing by the divine looking of hem, and by thy reasons, that they ne mowen ben ouercommen. And thilke thyngs that thou toldest me, all be it so, y• I had whylom foryeten hem, for the sorow of y• wrong that hath be done to me: yet neuerthelesse they ne weren not vtterly vnknowen to mee. But this same is namely a right great cause of my sorrow, so yt as the gouernour of thyngs is good, if that euils mowen been by any waies, or els if yt euils passen without punishing, the which thing only, how worthie is it to ben wondred vpon. Thou considrest it wel thy self certainely. But yet to this thing there is yet another thing ioyned more to be wondred vpon. For fellonie is Emperesse, and floureth full of richesse, and vertue nis not all onely without medes, but it is cast downe, and eke fortroden vnder y• feet of fellonous folke: and it abieth y• turments in steed of wicked fellons. Of all which things there is no wight may maruailen ynough ne complainen, yt such thynges be done in the reigne of God, that all thynges wote, and all things may, & ne will not only but good things. Then said she thus: Certes (qd. she) that were a great maruaile, & an abashing without end, and well more horrible than all the monsters, if it were as thou wenest, that is to saine, yt in the right ordained house of so much a father, & an ordaynour of meine, that the vessels that ben foule & vile, should ben honoured & heried, and the precious vessels that should ben defouled & vile. But it is not so, for if the thinges yt I haue concluded a little here beforn, ben kept whole and vnaraced, thou shalt wel know by the authoritie of God, (of y• whose reign speake) that certes the good folke be alway mightie and shrewes ben alway outcast and feeble. Ne the vices be neuermore without pain, ne the vertues ne bee not without mede. And that blisfulnesse commeth alway to good folke, & infortune cometh alway to wicked folk. And thou shalt well knowen many things of this kind that should ceasen thy plaints, & strengthen thee with stedfast sadnesse. And for thou hast seen the forme of very blisfulnesse by me, that haue whylome shewed it thee, & thou hast knowen in whom blisfulnesse is set: all thing treated, yt I trow be necessary to put forth, I shall shewen thee the way, that shal bringen thee ayen vnto thy house, and I shall fixe feathers in thy thought, by which it may arisen in height, so that all tribulacion ydone away, thou by my guiding, and by my path, & by my sledes, shalt mowen return hole & sound into thy countrie.
Sunt enim pennae volucres mihi, Quae celsa conscendunt poli, Quas sibi cum velox mens induit, &c.
THen for thy swift feathers yt surmounten the height of the heuen, when the swift thought hath clothed it in tho feathers, it despiseth ye hateful earths, and surmounteth the roundenesse of yt great aire, & it seeth y• cloudes behind his back, and passeth the height of the region of the fire, that enchaufeth by y• swift moouing of the firmament, till that he ariseth into the houses that bearen the sterres, and joyneth the way with the sunne Phebus, & fellawshippeth the way of the olde colde Saturnus, and be ymaked a knight of y• cleare sterre, y• is to saine, when yt thought is made Gods knight, by ye seeking of clere trouth to commen to the very knowledge of God. And thilke soule renneth by the circle of sterres, in all y• places there as yt shining night is ipainted, that is to sain, the night, yt is cloudlesse. For on nights yt be cloudlesse, it seemeth that y• heauen were painted with diuers images of sterres. And when he hath done there inough, he shall forleten ye last heauen, & he shall present and wenden on the back of the swift firmament, and he shall be maked perfit of y• worshipfull light of God. There holdeth the lord of things the sceptre of his might, & attempreth the gouernments of the world, and the shining judge of things stable in himselfe, gouerneth the swift cart or waine, that is to saine, the circular mouing of the sunne. And if thy way leadeth thee ayen, so yt thou be broght thider, then wilt thou say that is y• countrey that thou requirest, of which thou ne haddest no mind: But nowe it remembreth me well, here was I born, here wol I fasten my degree, here woll I dwell. But if thee liketh then to looken on the derkenesses of the yearth, that thou hast forleten, then shalt thou seene, that these fellonous tyraunts, that the wretched people dreadeth nowe, shullen be exiled from thilke faire countrey.
Turn ego pape inquam, ut magna promittis. Nec dubito, quin possis efficere, tu modo quem excitaveris, ne moreris, &c.
THen said I thus. O I wonder me yt thou behetest me so great thyngs. Ne I ne doubt nor, that thou ne mayst well perfourm that thou behetest: But I pray thee this, that thou ne tarry not to tell me thilk things that thou hast moued. Phil. First (qd. she) thou must needs know, that good folke been alway strong and mightie, and the shrewes beene feeble and deserte, and naked of all strengths. And of these things certes euerich of hem is declared and shewed by other. For as good and euill been two contraries, if so be that good be stedfast, then sheweth the feeblesse all openly. And if thou know clerely y• freelenesse of euill, the stedfastnesse of good is knowen. But for as much as the fayth of my sentence shall be the more ferme and haboundaunt, I woll gone by that one way and by that other, and I woll confirme ye things that beene purposed nowe on this side, and now on yt side. * Two things there beene, in which the effect of all the deedes of mankind standeth: that is to sayne, will and power: and if that one of these two faileth, there nis nothing that may bee done. For if that will lacketh, there nis no wight that vndertaketh to do that he woll not done: And if power faileth, the wil nis but idle, & stant for naught. And thereof commeth it, yt if thou see a wight that would getten yt he may not getten, thou mayest not doubt yt power ne faileth him to hauen that he would. Boe. This is open & clere (qd. I) ne it ne may not been denyed in no manner. P. And if thou see a wight, qd. she, that hath done that he would done, thou nilt not doubt, that he ne hath had power to done it. Bo. No, qd. I. Phi. And in that that euery wight may, in that men holden hem mightie to don a thing: Insomuch, as a man is mighty to don a thing, insomuch, men hold him mighty: and in that that he ne may, in that men demen him to be feeble. Bo. I confesse it well, qd. I. P. Remember thee, qd. she, yt I haue gathered & shewed by yt foresaid reasons, yt all y• entencion of the wil of mankind, which y• is lad by diuers studies, hasteth to commen to blisfulnesse. Boet. It remembreth me well, qd. I, that it hath ben shewed. Philoso. And recordeth yt naught then, qd. she, that blisfulnesse is thilk same good that men requiren. so yt when blisfulnesse is required of all? Boetius. It recordeth me nat, qd. I. For I haue it alway in my memorie fixed. Philoso. All folke then, qd. she, good & eke bad, enforcen hem without difference of entencion to comen to good. Boetius. This is very consequence, qd. I. Philos. And certain is, qd. she, yt by getting of good be men maked good. Boeti. That is certaine, qd. I. Philos. Then getten good men yt they desiren. Boe. So it seemeth, qd. I. Philosophie. But wicked folke, qd. she, if they getten the good that they desiren, they ne mowen not be wicked. Bo. So it is, qd. I, Philos. Then so as that one and that other, qd. she, desiren the good, and the good folke getten the good, & not the wicked folk: then it is no doubt that the good folke ne be mightie, and wicked folke be feeble. Boeti. Who so yt euer douteth of this, he ne may not consider the nature of thinges, ne y• consequence of reasons. Philos. And ouer this, qd. she, if that there been two things yt haue one same purpose by kind, and that one of hem pursueth and performeth that same thing by naturall office, & that other ne may not don thilk office naturell, but followeth by other manner then is couenable to nature, him yt accomplisheth his purpose kindely, & yet he ne accomplisheth not his owne purpose: whether of these two demest thou for more mighty? B. If yt I conject, qd. I, yt thou woldest say, algates I desire yet to herken it more plainly of thee. Philosoph. Thou nilt not then denie, qd. she, that the moouement of goings nis in men by kind. Boeti. No forsooth, qd. I. Philosophy. Ne thou doubtest not, qd. she, yt thilk naturell office of going ne bee ye office of feet, Boe. I ne doubt it not, qd. I. Philos. Then, qd. she, if that a wight bee mightie to mooue, and goeth vpon his feet, & another to whom thilke naturell office of feet lacketh, enforceth him to go creeping on his hand, wch of these two ought to bee holden the more mightie by right? Boeti. Knit forth, qd. I, y• remnaunt, Philosophy. For no wight ne douteth, y• he that may gone by naturell office of feet, ne be more mightie than hee yt ne may not. But yt soueraigne good, qd. she, that is euen like purposed to the good and to the bad: y• good folke seeken it by naturell office of vertues, & shrewes enforcen hem to getten it by diuerse couetises of earthly things, which y• nis no naturell office to getten thilk soueraine good. Trowest thou that it be any otherwise? Bo. Nay, qd. I. For y• consequence is open, and shewing of things that I haue graunted, y• needs good folke moten ben mighty, & shrews moten ben feeble & vnmightie. Phil. Thou rennest aright beforne me, qd. she, and this is the judgment, yt is to sain, I judge of right, as these leeches beene woont to hopen of sicke folke, when they apperceiuen yt nature is redressed, & withstandeth to yt malady. But for I see thee now all ready to y• withstanding, I shall shew thee more thilke and continuell reasons. For looke how greatly sheweth the feeblenesse and infirmitie of wicked folke, y• ne mowen not commen to yt her naturel entencion leadeth hem: And yet almost thilk naturell entencion constraineth hem. And what were to demen then of shrewes, if thilk naturell helpe had forleten hem, y• which naturell helpe of entencion goth alway beforn hem, & is so great, yt vnneth it may be ouercommen? Consider then how great defaut of power, & howe great feeblesse there is in wicked fellonous folke: as who saieth, y• greater thyng yt is coueited, and the desire not accomplished, [Page 389] of yt lesse might is he that coueiteth it, and may not accomplish. And for thy, Philosophie saith thus by soueraine good. Ne shrews ne requiren not light medes ne vain games, which they ne may not followen ne holden, but they faylen of thilk summe of the height of things, that is to sain, soueraine good. Ne these wretches ne commen not to the effect of souerain good, the which they enforcen hem only to getten by nights and by days: in getting of which good, the strength of good folk is full well yseen. For right as thou mightest demen him mightie of going, that goeth on his feet till he might commen to thilk place, fro the which place there ne lay no way further to be gone: right so must thou needs demen him for right mighty, which that getteth and attayneth to the end of all things, which that been to desiren, beyond the which end there nis nothing to desire. Of the which power of good folk, men may conclude, that we wicked men seemen to be barrain and naked of all strength. For why forleten they vertues, and followen vices, nis it not for that they ne knowen not the goods? But what thing is more feble and more caitife, than is y• blindnes of ignorance? or els they knowen well which things they oughten followen, but lecherie & couetise ouerthroweth hem mistourned. And certes, so doth distemperance to feeble men, that mow not wrastlen ayen these vices. Ne know they not well, that they forleten the good wilfully, & tournen hem wilfully to vices. And in this wise they ne forleten not only to be mightie, but they forleten all vtterly in any wise for to been. For they yt forleten the commune fine of all things yt ben, they forleten also therewithal for to been. And perauenture, it should seemen to some folk, y• this were a meruaile to sain, that shrews, which that containen the more parts of men, ne been not, ne haue no being. But nathelesse it is so, and thus stant this thing: For they that be shrews, I denie not but y• they be shrews, but I denie simply & plainly, y• they ne be not, ne haue no being. For right as thou mightest sain of y• cerrain of a man, y• it were a dead man: so grant I wel forsooth, that vicious folk ben wicked, but I ne may not absolutely and simply grant that they ben. For thilk thing that withholdeth order, and keepeth nature, thilk thing is and hath being. But wt thing fayleth that, that is to say, he that forleteth natural order, he forleteth thilk being that is set in his nature? But thou wolt sain, the shrews mowen. Certes that ne denie I not: but certes, her power ne descendeth not of strength, but of feeblesse, for they mowen done wickednesse, the which they ne might not, if they mighten dwellen in the form and in y• doing of good people. And thilk power sheweth euidently, y• they mowen right naught. For so as I haue gadered and prooued a litel here beforn, that euill is not, and so as shrews may only but shrewdnes. This conclusion is all clere, that shrews ne mowen right naught, ne haue no power. And for as much as thou vnderstondest which is y• strength of this power, I haue definished a litel here beforn, that no thing nis so mighty as souerain good. B. That is sooth (qd. I) Phil. And thilk same souerain good may done none euil. Boe. Certes no (qd. I) Phil. Is there any wight then (qd. she) that weneth y• men mowen done all things. Boe. No man (qd. I) but if he be out of his wit. Phil. But certes shrews mowen done euils (qd. she.) Bo. Ye would God (qd. I) that they ne mighten done none. P. Then (qd. she) so as he that is mighty to done only good things, he may done all things, and they that ben mighty to done euill things, ne mowen not all things. Then is it open thing and manifest, y• they that mowen done euil, ben of lesse power. And yet to proue this conclusion, there helpeth me this, that I haue shewed here beforn, y• all power is to be numbred among things y• men oughten require. And I haue shewed, y• all things that oughten been desired, be referred to God, right as to a maner height of her nature: but for to mowen done euil & fellonie, ne may not ben referred to God. Then is not euil of the number of things, y• oughten to ben desired and required. Then is it open and clear, that the power ne the mouing of shrews nis no power. And of all these things it sheweth well, that the good folke ben certainly mighty, and the shrews doubtlesse vnmighty. And it is clere & open, that thilk sentence of Plato is very and soth, y• saith, That only wise men may done that they desiren, & shrews mowen haunten that hem liketh, but that they desiren, that is to sain, to come to souerain good, they ne haue no power to accomplish that: for shrews done what hem list, when by tho things in which they delighten, they wenen to attain to thilk good that they desiren, but they ne getten ne attayne not thereto, for vices ne commen not to blisfulnesse.
Quos vides sedere celsos, Solii culmine reges, Purpura claros nitente, &c.
WHo so that the couerture of her vain apparailes, might stripen of these prowd kings that thou seest sitten on high in her chairs, glittering in shining purpure, enuironned with sorrowfull armures, menasing with cruel mouth, blowing by woodnes of heart, he should seen, y• thilk lords heaten within her courages full strait chains: for lecherit tormenteth hem on y• one side with greedie venimes & troublable ire, that araiseth in hem the flood of troublings, tormenteth on that other side, her thought or sorrow halt hem werie & y [...]aught, or sliding and deceiuing hope tormenteth hem. And therfore sith thou seest one head, that is to sayn, one tyraunt bearen so many tyrannies, then ne doth thilk tyraunt not that he desireth, sith he is cast down with so many wicked lords, [Page 390] that is to sain, so many vices that haue so wickedly lordships ouer him.
Vides ne igitur quanto in coeno probra volvantur, qua probitas luce resplendeat? in quo perspicuum est nunquam bonis praemia, &c.
SEest thou not then, in how great filth these shrews been ywrapped, and with which clerenesse these good folk shinen. In this sheweth it well, that to good folk ne lacketh neuer mo her medes, ne shrews lacken neuer more tourments. For of all things that be done, thilk thing for which any thing is done, it seemeth, as by right, that thilk thing be the mede of that, as thus: If a man renneth in the stady or in the forlong for the crown, then lieth the mede in the crown, for which he renneth. And I haue shewed that blisfulnesse is thilk same good, for which that all things ben done. Then is thilk same good purposed to the werks of mankind, right as a commune mede, which mede ne may not be disceuered from good folk: For no wight, as by right, from thenceforth that him lacketh goodnesse, ne shall be cleaped good: for which thing folk of good maners her medes ne forsaken hem neuer mo. For all be it so, that shrewes waxen as wood as hem list against good folk, yet neuerthelesse, the crown of wise men ne shall not fallen ne faden fro forrain shreudnesse, ne benimmen not fro the courage of good people her proper honour. But if any wight rejoyced him of goodnesse, that he had taken fro without, as who saith: if a man had his goodnesse of any other man, than of himself, certes, he that yaue him thilke goodnesse, or els some other wight, might bynome it him. But for as much as to euery wight his proper bounty yeueth him his mede, then at erst shall he faylen of mede, when he forleteth to be good. And at the last, so as all medes been required, for men wenen that they be good, who is he that nolde deme, that he that is right mighty of good, were part lesse of mede? And of what mede shall he be reguerdoned? Certes, of right fair mede and right great abouen all medes. Remember thee of thilk noble corallary that I yaue thee a little here beforne, and gather it together in this manner. So as God himself is blisfulnesse, then is it clere and certain, that all good people been maked blisful, for they been good: and thilk people that ben blisful, it accordeth and is conuenable to be Gods. Then is the mede of people such, that no day ne shall empairen it, ne no wickednesse shall drinken it, ne power of no wight ne shall not amenuse it, that is to sain, that ben maked goods. And sith it is thus, that good men ne faylen neuer more of her mede, certes, no man ne may doubt of the vndepartable pain of shrews, that is to sain, that the pain of shrewes departeth not from hemself neuer mo. For so as good and euil, and pain and medes, be contrary: it mote needs be, that right as we see betiden in guerdon of good, that also mote the pain of the euil aunswer by the contrary parts to shrews. Now then, so as bounty and prowesse ben mede to good folk, also is shrewdnesse it self tourment to shrews. Then whosoeuer is entetched and defouled with payne, he ne doubteth not, that he is entetched and defouled with euil. If shrews then wollen praysen hemself, may it seemen to hem that they been withouten party of tourment, sith they been such, that the vttrest wickednesse, that is to say, wicked thewes, which is the vttrest and worst kind of shreudnesse, ne defouleth ne entetcheth not hem only, but enfecteth and enuenimeth greatly. And also look on shrews, that ben the contrary party of good men, how great pain fellowshippeth and fouleth hem: for thou hast learned a little here beforn, that all thing that is and hath being, is one, and thilk same one is good: then is this the consequence, that it seemeth well, that all thing that is and hath being, is good, that is to sain, as who saith, that being, vnity, and goodnesse, is all one. And in this manner it followeth then, that all thing that faileth to be good, it stinteth for to be, and for to haue any manner being: wherefore it is, that shrewes stinten for to be that they weren. But thilk other form of mankind, that is to sain, the form of the body without, sheweth that these shrews weren whilom men, wherefore when they been peruerted and tourned into malice, certes then they haue forlorn the nature of mankind: but so, as only bounty and prowesse may enhauncen euery man ouer men: then mote it needs be, that shrews, which that shrewdnesse hath cast out of the condicion of mankind, been put vnder the merit and desert of men. Then betideth it, that if thou seest a wight, which that is transformed into vices, thou maist not wene that he be a man: For if he be ardant in auarice, and that he be a rauenour by violence of forrain richesse, thou shalt sain that he is like a wolf. And if he be fellonous, and withouten rest, and exercise his tongue to chidings, thou shalt liken him to the hound. And if he be a priuy awaytour hidde, and rejoyceth him to rauish by wiles, thou shalt sain him like to the fox whelps. And if he be distempred and quaketh for ire, men shall wenen that he deareth the corage of a Lion. And if he be dredefull and flying, and dredeth things which that ne oughten not to be dread, men shall hold him like to the Hart. And if he be slow, and astonied and lache, men shall hold him like to an Asse. And if he be light and vnstedfast of courage, and changeth aye his studies, men shall hold him like to the birds. And if he be piunged in foul and vnclene luxuries, he is withholden in the foul delices of the foul sow: then followeth it, that he that forleteth bounty and prowesse, he forleteth to be a man, sith he ne may not passen in the condicion of God, he is turned into a beast.
Vela Naricii ducis, & vagas pelago rates, Eurus appulit insulae, pulchra qua residens dea, Solis edita semine, &c.
EUrus the wind, arriued the sailes of Vlixes, duke of the countrey of Narice, and his wandering ships by the see, into the Isle, there as Circes the faire goddesse, doughter of the sun, dwelleth, that meddleth to her new ghests drinks that been touched and maked with enchauntments. And after that her hand, mighty ouer the herbs, had chaunged her ghests into diuers manners, that one of hem is couered his face with form of a Bore, that other is chaunged into a Lyon of the countrey of Marmorike, and his nayls and his teeth wexen. That other of hem is newlych changed into a wolf, and howlyth when he would weep: that other goeth debonairly in the house as a Tygre of Inde. But all be it so, that the godhead of Mercury, that is cleped the bird of Archadia, hath had mercy of the Duke Vlyxes, besieged with diuerse euils, and hath vnbounden him fro the pestilence of his hostesse, algates the rowers and the marriners hadden by this ydrawen into her mouthes, and dronken the wicked drinks. They that weren woxen swine, hadden by this ychaunged her meat of bread, for to eaten Acorn of Okes. None of her limmes ne dwelleth with hem whole, but they haue lost the voyce and the bodye, only her thought dwelleth with hem stable, that weepeth and bewayleth the monstrous changing that they sufferen. O ouer light hand, as who sayth, feeble and light is the hand of Circes the enchaunteresse, that chaungeth the bodies of folk into beasts, to regard and to comparison of mutacion, that is maked by vices: ne the herbs of Circes ne be not mighty, for all be it so that they may chaungen the limmes of the body, algate yet they may not change the hearts, for within is yhid the strength and vigor of men in the secretor of her hearts, that is to sain, the strength of reason: but thilk venimes of vices, do drawen a man to hem more mightily than the venime of Circes, for vices ben so cruel, that they piercen and thorow passen the courage within, and though they ne annoy not the body, yet vices wooden to destroyen men by wound of thought.
Tu ego fateor, inquam, nec injuria dici video vitiosos, tam & si humani corporis speciem servent, &c.
THen said I thus: I confesse and am aknow it (qd. I) ne I ne see not that men may say, as by right, that shrews been chaunged into beasts by the quality of her souls, all be it so, that they keepen yet the form of the bodye of mankinde: but I would not of shrews, of which, the thought cruel and wood, woodeth alway to the destruction of good men, that it were leful to hem to done that.
Certes (qd. she) ne it is not leful to hem as I shall well shew the incouenable place: but nathelesse, if so were, that thilk that men wene been leful to shrews, were bynommed hem, so that they ne might not annoien or done harm to good men, certes, a great party of the pain to shrews should ben alledged and releued. For all be it so, that it ne seem credible thing, peraduenture to some folk, that it mote needs be, that the shrews been more wretches and silly, when they may full done and perform that they coueyten, than if they might not accomplish that they coueyten. For if so be, that it be wretchednesse to wilnen to done euil, then is it more wretchednesse to mowen done euil, without which mowing, the wretched will should languish without effect. Then sith euery of these things hath his wretchednesse, that is to sain, will to done euil, and mowing to done euil, it mote needs be, that they shrews be constrained by her vnselinesses, that wollen and mowen, and performen fellonies and shreudnesses. Boet. I accord me (qd. I) but I desire greatly, that shrews losten soon thilk vnselinesse, that is to sain, that shrews weren dispoyled of mowing to done euil.
Philosophy. So shullen they (qd. she) soner paraduenture then thou woldest, or soner than they hemself wene: for there nis nothing so late in so short bonds of this life, that is long to abide, namely to a courage immortel. Of which shrews, the great hope and the hie compassings of shreudnesse, is oft destroyed by a sodein end, or they be ware. And that thing establisheth to shrews the end of her shrewdnesse: for if that shrewdnesse maketh wretches, then must he needs be most wretch that longest is a shrew: the which wicked shrews wold I demin aldermost caytifes and vnsely, if her shrewdnesse ne were finished at least way by vtterest death, for if I haue concluded sooth of the vnselinesse of shrewdnesse, then sheweth it plainly, that thilk wretchednesse is withouten end, the which is certain to be pardurable. Bo. Certes (qd. I) this conclusion is hard and wonderful to grant. But I know well that it accordeth moch to things that I haue granted here beforne. Phil. Thou hast (qd. she) right estimacion of this. But who so euer wene that it be a hard thing, to accord him to a conclusion, it is right that he shew that some of the premisses ben false, or els he mote shew that the collacion of propoficions nis not spedeful to a necessary conclusion. And if it ne be not so, but that the premisses been igraunted, there nis not why he should blame the argument. For this thing that I shall tell thee now, ne shall not seme lasse wonderful, but of the things that bene taken. Also it is necessary, as who faith, it followeth of that which that is purposed beforne. Boec. What is that (qd. I) Phil. Certes (qd. she) that is, that these wicked shrews be more blisful, or els lasse wretches that abien the tourments [Page 392] that they haue deserued, than if no payne of justice ne chastised hem. Ne this ne say I not now, for y• any man might think that the maners of shrewes been coriged and chastised by vengeance, and that they be brought to the right way by the drede of tourment, ne for that they yeuen to other folkes ensample to flyen fro vices.
But I vnderstand yet in another maner, y• shrewes been more vnsely when they ne be not punished, al be it so that there ne be had no reason or law of correction, ne none ensample of looking. Boet. And what maner shall y• been, qd. I, other than hath be tolde here beforn? Ph. Haue we not graunted then, qd. she, that good folke ben blisfull, & shrewes ben wretches? Boet. Yes, qd. I. Philosoph. Then, qd. she, If that any good were added to y• wretchednesse of any wight, nys he not more weleful than he y• ne hath no medling of good in his solitary wretchednes. Bo. So seemeth it (qd. I.) Phil. And what sayst thou then, qd. she, of thilke wretch that lacketh all goods, so that no good nys medled with his wretchednesse, and yet ouer all his wickednesse for which he is a wretch, that there be yet another yuel annexed and knit to him, shall not men demen him more unsely than thilke wretche, of which the vnselines is releued by the participation of some good. Boet. Why should he not, qd. I. Ph. Then certes, qd. she, han shrewes when they been punished, somewhat of good annexed to hir shrewdnesse, that is to saine, the same paine that they suffren, which that is good, by the reason of Iustice. And when thilke same shrewes escapen without tourment, then haue they somwhat more of yuel yet, ouer the wickednes that they han done, that is to saine, default of pains, which default of payne thou hast graunted is yuel, for the desert of felony. Boet. I ne may not deny it, qd. I. Philos. * Moch more then, qd. she, been shrewes vnsely, when they been wrongfully deliuered fro payne, then when they been punished by rightfull vengeaunce. But this is open thing and clere, y• it is right that shrewes been punished, & it is wickednesse and wrong that they escapen vnpunished. Boetius. Who might deny it, qd. I. Philosop. But, qd. she, may any man deny y• al that is right, ne is good? and also the contrary, y• all y• is wrong ne is wicked? Boet. Certes, qd. I, these things been cleere ynough, and that wee haue concluded a litell here beforn. But I pray thee y• thou tel me, if thou accordest to letten no tourment to y• soules, after y• the body is ended by y• death, that is to saine: vnderstandest thou aught, that soules haue any tourment after y• deth of y• body? Philos. Certes, qd. she, yea, and that right great, of which soules, qd. she, I trowe y• some been tourmented by asprenesse of payne, and some soules I trow been exercised by a purging mekenesse, but my counsaile nys nat to determine of this paynes. But I haue trauayled and tolde yet hyderto, for thou shouldest know y• the mowing of shrews, which mowing thee semeth to be vnworthy, nys no mowyng, & eke of shrewes, of which thou playnedest yt they ne were not punished, yt thou woldest see that they ne weren neuer mo withouten the tourments of her wickednesse. And of the lycence of the mowing to doen euill, that thou praydest that it might sone be ended, and that thou wouldest fayne lernen that it ne shoulde not longe endure. And that shrewes been more vnsely if they were of lenger duringe, and moste vnsely if they weren perdurable. And after this I haue shewed thee that more vnsely ben shrewes, when they escapen without her rightfull payne, than when they ben punished by rightfull vengeaunce. And of this sentence foloweth it, y• then been shrewes constrayued at the last with most greeuous tourment, when men wene that they ne be not punished. Boetius. When I consider thy reasons, qd. I, I ne trow nat y• men saine any thing more verely. And if I tourne ayen to the studies of men, who is he to whome it shoulde seeme, yt he ne should nat onely leuen these things, but eke gladly herken hem. Philoso. Certes, qd. she, so it is, but men may nat, for they haue their eyen so wont to the derkenesse of earthly thinges, that they ne may nat lift hem vp to the light of cleare soothfastnesse. But they been like to birdes, of which the night lightneth her lookings, as the day blindeth hem. For when men looken not the ordre of thinges, but her lustes and talents, they wene that eyther the leue or the mowyng to doen wickednes, or els the scaping without payne, be welefull. But consider the judgement of the perdurable law, for if thou confirme thy courage to the best things, thou ne hast no need of no judge, to yeuen thee price or mede, for thou hast joyned thy selfe to y• most excellent thinges. And if thou haue enclined thy studies to y• wicked things, ne seke no foraine wrekerie out of thy selfe, for thou thy selfe hast thriste thy selfe into wicked things, right as thou mightest looken by diuers times, the foule yearth & the heauen, and yt all other things stinten fro without, so y• thou were in neither, ne see nothing more. Then shuld it seemen to thee, as by only reason of loking, y• thou were now in the Sterres, & now in the earth, but y• people loketh not on these things. What then, shal we then approch vs to hem that I haue shewed that been like to beasts? And what wouldest thou sain of this, if y• a man had all forlorne his sight, and had foryeten y• he euer saw, & wened that nothing fayled him of perfection of mankind? Now we which mighten seene the same things, would we not saine, y• he were blind, ne also ne accordeth not ye people to yt I shall saine, the which thing is susteyned, by as strong foundements of reason, yt is to saine, * That more vnselie been they yt done wrongs to other folke, than they yt the wrong suffren. Boet. I would hearen thilke same reasons, qd. I. Philos. Deniest thou, [Page 393] (qd. she) that all shrewes ne been worthie to haue tourment? Boetius. Nay (qd. I.) Phil. But (qd. she) I am certain by many reasons, that shrewes been vnsely. Boetius. It accordeth (qd. I.) Phil. Then ne doubtest thou not (qd. she) that thilke folke, that been worthy of tourment, yt they ne be wretches. Boetius. It accordeth well (qd. I.) Phil. If thou were then set a Iudg, or a knower of things, whither trowest thou that men should tourmenten hem yt hath done wrong, or els hem that suffered the wrong? Boetius. I doubte not (qd. I) that I nolde doe sufficient satisfaction to hem that haue suffered wrong, by the sorrow of hem that hath done wrong. Phil. Then semeth it (qd. she) that the dooer of wrong is more wretch than he that suffred wrong. Boetius. That followeth well (qd. I.) Phil. Then (qd. she) by these causes, and by other causes, that been enforced by the same roote, that filth or sinne, by the proper nature of it, maketh men wretches: & it sheweth well, that the wrongs that men done, nis not the wretchednesse of him that receiueth the wrong, but the wretchednesse of him that doeth the wrong. But certes (qd. she) these Orators or Aduocates done all the contrary, for they enforcen hem to commoue the Iudges to haue pitie of hem that done the greevaunces and the wrongs, the which shrews, it were a more couenable thing, that ye accusours or aduocates, not wroth, but piteous & debonaire, ledden tho shrews that haue done wrongs, to the judgment, right as men leden sicke folke to the Leche, for that they shoulden seeken out the maladies of sin, by tourment. And by this couenant, either the entent of advocates, should cessen in all, or els thoffice of the aduocates would better profiten to men: it should be tourned into the habite of accusacion, that is to saine, they shoulden accuse shrews, hemself, if it were leful to hem, to seen at any clift the vertue that they haue forletten, & sawen that they should putten adoune the filthes of her vices, by the tourments of paines: they ne oughten not, right for that recompensacion, for to getten hem bountie and prowesse, which that they have loste, demen and holde that the ilke paynes weren tourments to hem, & eke they woulden refuse the attendaunce of her aduocates, & taken hemselfe to her Iudges, and to her accusours: for the which it betideth, that as to y• wise folks there nis no place iletten to hate, that is to saine, that hate ne hath no place among wise men. For no wight nill haten good men, but if he were ouermoch a foole: and for to haten shrews, it nis no reason, for right as languishing is maladie of body, right so been vices & sin malady of courage, and so as we ne deme not that they which that been sick of her bodie been worthy to been hated, but rather worthy of pitie. Well more worthy not to been hated, but for to been had in pitie been they, of which the thoughts been constrained by felonous wickednesse, that is more cruell than any languishing of body.
Quid tantos juvat excitare motus. Et propria fatum sollicitate manu? Si mortem petitis, propinquat ipsa sponte sua, volucres nec remoratur equos, &c.
WHat deliteth you to exciten so great mouing of Hatredes, and to hasten and busien the fatal disposicion of your death, with your proper hands, that is to saine, by battailes or conteke? For if yee asken the death, it hasteth him of his owne will, ne death ne tarieth not his swift horse. And the men that the Serpents, and the Lion, and the Tigre, and the Bere, and the Bore, seken to slean with their teeth, yet thilke same men seken to slean euerich of hem other with sweard. Lo, for her maners been diuers and discordaunt, they mouen vnrightful hostes, and cruel battayles, and wilnen to perish by enterchaungyng of dartes, but the reason of crueltie, nys not inough rightful. Wilt thou then yelden a couenable guerdon to the deserts of men? Loue rightfully good folkes, and haue pitie on shrewes.
Hinc ego video inquam, quae sit vel felicitas vel miseria in ipsis proborum at (que) improborum meritis constituta. Sed in hac ipsa fortuna populari, &c.
THis I see (qd. I) eyther what blisfulnesse, or els what vnselinesse is established in the deserts of good men, and of shrewes. But in this ilke Fortune of the people, I see somewhat of good, and some what of euil. For no wise man had not leauer be exiled poore and needie, and namelesse, than for to dwellen in his Citee, and flouren of richesse, and be redoubtable of honour, and strong of power. For in this wise more clearly and witnesfully is the office of wise men treated, then the blisfulnesse of power, and gouernors, is as it were shad amongs the people, that be neighbours and subjects, sith that namely prison, law, and these other torments of lawful pains, be rather owed to felonous citizens: for the which selonous citizens, the pains be established, more then for good people. Boet. Then I maruaile greatly (qd. I) why that the thyngs be so misse enterchaunged, that torments of felonies pressen & confounden good people, and shrewes rauishen medes of vertue, and been in honors, & great estates. And I desire eke for to weten of thee, what semeth thee to be the reason of this so wrongfull a conclusion? For I would wonder well the lasse, if that I trowed that all things were medled with fortunous hap. But now crepeth & encreaseth mine astoniyngs, God gouernour of things, that so as God yeveth oft times to good men, goods & mirths, and to shrews, euill and aspre things: And yeueth ayen to good folke hardnesse, and to shrews he graunteth hem her will, and that [Page 394] they desiren. What difference may there be, betweene that that God doeth, and hap of fortune, if men know not the cause why it is. Philosophie. Ne it is no marueile, qd. she, though that men wenen, that there be somewhat foolish and confuse, when the reason of the order is unknowen: but although that thou ne know not the cause of so great a disposicion. Nathelesse, for as much as God the good gouernour attempreth and gouerneth the world, ne doubt thee not, but all things been doen a right.
Si quis Arcturi sidera nescit. Mergatque seras aequore flammas. Propinqua summo cardine labi. Cum nimis sceleris explicet ortus. Cur legat tardus plaustra Bootes, &c.
WHo so that know not the Sterres Arcture, tourned to the soueraine centure or poinct, that is to saine, tourned nigh to the Soueraine Pole of y• firmament, and wote not why y• sterre Bootes passeth, or gathereth his waines, and drencheth his late flambes in the sea, and why that Bootes the Sterre vnfoldeth his ouerswift arisings, then shall he wondren of the Lawe of y• high aire. And eke, if that he ne knowe not why y• the hornes of the full Moone waxen pale and infect by the boundes of the darke night, and how the Moone darke & confuse, discouereth the Sterres, that she had couered by her clere visage.
The common errour moueth folkes, and maketh wearie her basins of Brasse by thilke strokes, that is to say, that there is a maner people, that hight Coribantes, that wenen that when the Moone is in the Eclipse that it be enchaunted, and therfore for to rescue y• Moone, they beaten her basins with the ilke strokes. Ne no man ne wondreth when the blastes of the wind Chorus, beaten y• stronds of the Sea, by quaking floodes. Ne no man ne wondreth, when the weight of the Snow, harded by the cold, is resolued by the brenning heat of Phebus the Sunne, for here seen men readily the causes. But the causes ihid, that is to saine in heauen, troublen ye brestes of men. The mouable people is astonied of all things that commen selde and sodainly in our age, but the troubly errour of our ignoraunce, departeth fro vs, so yt if they wisten the cause, why that soche thinges betiden, certes they shoulden cease to seme wonders.
Ita est inquam. Sed cum tui muneris sit latentium rerum causas evolvere, velatas (que) caligine explicare rationes: quaeso uti hinc decernas, &c.
THus it is (qd. I) but so as thou haste yeuen or beheight me, to vnwrappe ye hidde causes of things, and to discouer me the reasons couered with darknesse, I pray thee, that thou deuise and judge me of this matter, and that thou do me to vnderstand it, for this miracle of this wonder troubleth me right greatly. And then she a little what smiling said. Thou clepest me (qd. she) to tell yt is greatest of al thinges y• mowen been asked, and to the which question, vnneth there aught inough to leauen it, as who saieth, vnneth is there any thing to aunswere perfitly to thy question: for ye matter of it is soch, that when o doubte is determined and cut away, there waxen other doubts without number, right as the heddes of Idre the Serpent waxen, the which Serpent Hercules slough: ne there ne were no manere, ne none end, but if a wight constrained the doubts, by a right liuely & quicke fire of thought, that is to saine, by vigour and strength of wit. For in this matter men weren wonte to maken questions, of ye simplicitie of the purueighaunce of GOD, & of y• order of Destinie, and of sodayne happe, & of knowing of predestinacion diuine, and of the libertie of Freewill: the which thinges, thou thy selfe apperceiuedest well of what weight they been. But for as moch as the knowings of these things, is a manner porcion or Medicine to thee, all be it so, that I haue little tyme to doen it, yet neuerthelesse I would enforcen me to shewen somewhat of it: But although the nourishings of ditee of Musike deliteth thee, thou must suffren & forbearen a little of the ilke delite, while that I wene to the reasons knit by order. Boetius. As it liketh to thee (qd. I) so doe. Philosophie. Tho spake shee right, as by an other beginning, and sayed right thus: The engendering of all thinges (qd. she) and all the progressions of moueable Nature, & all that moueth in any maner, taketh his causes, his order, & his formes, of y• stablenesse of Diuine thought: And the ilke Diuine thought, that is set and put in the Towre, yt is to saine, in the height of the simplicitie of God, establisheth many maner gises to y• things that been to doen, the which maner, when the men looken it, in the pure cleanesse of the Diuine intelligence, is cleaped purueighaunce.
But when the ilke maner is referred by men, to thinges that it moueth or disponeth, then of old men it was cleaped Destenie, y• which things, if that any wight looketh well in his thought, the strength of that one, & of that other, he shall lightly mowe seene, that these two things be diuers. For purueighaunce is the ilke Diuine reason that is established in the Soueraine Prince of thinges, y• which pueueighaunce disponeth al things. But certes, Destinie is the disposicion & the ordinaunce, cleauing to moueable thinges, by the which disposicion, ye purueighaunce knitteth all things in her order: For purueighaunce embraseth al things to heap, although they be diuers, and although they be infinite, but destinie certaine departeth & ordaineth all things singulerly, & deuideth in mouing, in places, in formes, and in tymes, as thus: Let the vnfolding of temporall ordinaunce, [Page 395] assembled and oned in ye loking of the Diuine thought, be cleaped purueighaunce, & thilke same assembling and oning deuided and vnfolden, let that be called Destine. And all beit so, that these thinges been diuers, yet neuerthelesse, hanged yt one on that other, for why, the order destinably proceedeth of the simplicitie of purueighaunce.
For right as a werkman perceiueth in his thought the forme of thing yt he wol make, and moueth the effect of the werke, and leadeth y• he had looked beforne in his thought, simply and presently by corporall ordinance: certes, right so God in his purueighaunce, disponeth singulerly and stably the things yt be to doen, but he administreth in maners, & in diuers time by Destinie, the ilke same thinges that he hath disponed: then whether Destinie be exercised eyther by some Diuine spirits, seruaunts to the Diuine purueighaunce, or els by some soul, or els by all nature seruing God, or els by the celestiall mouings of Sterres, or els by the vertue of Angels, or els by diuers subtelty of Diuels, or els by any of hem, or els by hem all, the destinable ordinaunce is wouen and accomplished. Certes, it is open thing, yt the purueighaunce is an vnmouable & simple form of things to doen, and the moueable bond, and the temporel ordinaunce of thinges, which that the Diuine simplicity of purueyaunce hath ordayned to doen, that is destinie. For which it is yt all things that been put vnder destiny, been certes subjects vnto purueiaunce, to which purueyaunce destiny it selfe is subject and vnder: but some things been put vnder purueiaunce, y• surmounten the ordinaunce of destiny: and tho been thilke that stably been fixed nigh to the first godhed, they surmounten ye order of destinable mouabilitee. For right as circles turnen about a same centre, or about a poinct, thilke cercle that is innerest or most within, he joyneth to the simplesse of the middle, & is as it were a centre or a poinct to that other cercles that turnen about him: and thilk y• is vtterest, compassed by larger enuironning, is vnfolde by larger spaces, in so moch as it is fertherest fro the middelest simplicitie of the poinct. And if there be any thyng that knitteth & felowshippeth himself to thilke middle poinct, it is constrayned into simplicity, yt is to say, into vnmouability, & it ceaseth to ben shad, and flit diuersly. Right so by semblable reason, thilke thing y• departeth furtherest fro y• first thought of God, it is vnfolden, and also submitted to greater bondes of destinie, and in so moch is ye thing more free & loce fro destinie, as it asketh & holdeth nere to thilke centre of things, that is to saine, to God. And if the thing cleaueth to the stedfastnesse of y• thought of God, & be without mouyng, certes it surmounteth the necessitie of destinie. Then soche comparison as is skilling to vnderstanding, & of thing yt was engendred, to thing that is of time to eternity, & of the cercle to the centre, right so is y• order of mouable distinie, to yt stable simplicity of purueighaunce. Thilke ordinaunce moueth y• heauen and the sterres, and attempreth y• elementes togither among hem selfe, and transformeth hem by enterchaungeable mutacion. And thilke same order neweth ayen all things growing and falling adoune, by semblable progressions of seedes and of sexes, that is to saine, male & female: & this ilke order constraineth y• fortunes and the dedes of men by a bonde of causes not able to be vnbounden: the which destinable causes, when they passen out fro the beginnynges of vnmovable purueyaunce, it mote needs be yt they ne be not mutable, as thus: be y• things well gouerned, if that the simplicitie dwelling in y• Diuine thought, sheweth forthe the order of causes vnable to be bowed: And this order constrayneth by the proper stabilitie y• mouable thinges, or els they shoulden flete folilie. For which it is that things semen confuse, & troubly to vs men, for we ne mowen not consider thilke ordinaunce. Neuerthelesse, y• proper maner of euery thyng dressyng hym to good, disponeth hem all, for there nis nothing dooen for euill, for thilke thing that is doen by wicked folke nis not done for euill. The which shrewes, as I haue shewed plenteously, seke good, but wicked errour misturneth hem, ne y• order coming fro y• poinct of Soueraine good, ne enclineth not fro his beginning. But thou maiest say, wt vnrest may been a worse confusion, than that good men haue sometime aduersitie, and sometime prosperitie: and shrewes haue now also things that they desiren, and now things yt they haten. Whether men liue now in soch holinesse of thoght, as who saith be men now so wise, that soch folke as they demen to be good folke or shrewes, that it mote needes be, that folke be soch as they wenen. But in this maner domes of men discorden, that thilk men yt some folke deme hem worthy of mede, other folke deme hem worthy of turment, but let vs graunt: I suppose yt some man may well deeme or know y• good people & the bad, may he then know and see thilke innerest attemperaunce of courage, as it hath be wont to be sayd of bodies, as who saith: may a man speaken of complexions, & attemperaunce of bodies, ne it ne is not, as who saith, but it is like a meruaile or a miracle to hem yt ne know it not, why yt swete things be couenable to som bodies y• been hole, and to som people bitter things be couenable: & also why some people been holpen with light medicines, & some people ben holpen with bitter medicines but nathelesse tho yt knowen the maner, & y• temperaunce of heale and of malady ne marueyleth it nothing. But what other thing seemeth health of courages but bountie, & wt other thing seemeth malady of courage but vices? * Who is els keper of good, and driuer away of euill, but God y• gouernour and leader of thoughts: y• which God, when he hath beholden from yt high toure of his purveiaunce, [Page 396] hee knoweth what is conuenable to any wight, and leaneth hem that he wot well yt is conuenable to hem. Lo hereof commeth & herof is done this myracle or thorder destinable, when God that all knoweth, doth soch thing, of which thing vnknowyng folke been astonied, but for to constrayne, as who saieth, but for to comprehend and tell a fewe thinges of the deuine deepenesse, the which that mans reason may vnderstand. Thilke manne that thou wenest to been right just, & right keeping of equitie, the contrarie of yt seemeth to the Diuine purueighaunce that all wote. And Lucan my familier telleth, yt the victorious cause lyked to the Goddes, & the causes ouercome, liketh to Caton. Then what so euer thou mayest seene, yt is done in this world unhoped or els vnknowen, certes, it is y• right order of things, but as to thy wicked opinion, it is a confusion. But I suppose yt some man be so wel thewed, that the Diuine judgement, & the judgement of mankind accorden hem togider of him: but he is so vnstedfast of courage, yt if any aduersitie come to him, he woll forleten parauenture to continue innocencie, by the which he ne may not withholden fortune: then y• wise dispensacion of GOD spareth him, which man aduersitie might enpairen, for y• God wil not him to trauaile, to whom y• trauail nis not [...] conuenable. Another man is parfite in all vertues, & is an holy man, & nigh to GOD, so that the purueighaunce of God would deme, that it were a felony, that hee were touched with any aduersities, so yt he would not suffre, that soch a man be with any bodily malady moued. But so, as said the Philosopher, the more excellent is by me sayd in great, that vertues haue edified the body of the holy man. And oft time it betideth, yt the summe of thinges that been to done is taken to gouerne to good folke, for yt the malice habundant of shrewes should ben abated. And God yeueth and departeth to other folke prosperities and aduersities, medled to heap after the quality of her courages, and remordeth some folke by adversities, for they ne shuld not waxen proude by long welefulnesse. And other folke he suffereth to be travayled with harde thyngs, for that they should confermen the vertues of courage by the exercitation of vsage of patience. And other folke dreden more than they oughten, the which they mighten well bearen, & some dispise that they mowe not bear, & thilk folk God leadeth into experience of hemselfe, by aspre and sorrowful things. And many folke haue bought honourable renome of this world by the price of glorious death.
And some men that ne mowe not been ouercomen by tourment, haue yeuen ensample to other folke, yt vertue may not been ouercommen by adversities. And of all these things there nys no doubt, that they ne been done rightfully and ordeinly, to the parfite good of hem to whom we seen these things betiden. For certes, that adversities cometh somtime to shrewes, and sometime that they desiren, it cometh of these foresaid causes. And of sorrowful things that betiden to shrews, certes, no man ne wondreth, for all men wene that they haue deserued it, and that they ben of wicked merite. Of which shrewes, the tourmente agasteth sometyme other to doen felonies: And sometyme it amendeth hem that suffereth the tourments. And the prosperitie yt is yeuen to shrewes, sheweth a great argument to good people, what thing they should demen of thilke welefulnesse, whiche prosperitie men seen ofte serue to shrewes: In which thing, I trowe that GOD dispenseth, for parauenture, y• nature of some man is so ouerthrowyng to euill, and so vncouenable, that ye needy pouertie of his houshold might rather agreue him to done felonies, and to the maladie of him, GOD putteth remedie, to yeuen him richesse. And some other man beholdeth his conscience defouled with sinnes and maketh comparison of this Fortune, and of himselfe: & dredeth paraduenture, that the blisfulnesse, of which the vsage is joyfull to him, that the lesing of thilke blisfulnesse ne bee not sorowfull to him, and therefore he would chaunge his maners: & for hee dredeth to lese his Fortune, he forleteth his wickednesse. To other folkes welefulnesse is yeuen vnworthily, the which ouerthroweth hem into destruction that they han deserued, and to some other folke is yeuen power to punishen, for that it shall be cause of continuacion, and exercising to good folks, and cause of tourment to shrewes.
For so as there nis none aliaunce betweene good folkes and shrewes, ne shrewes ne mowen not accorden among hemselfe: and why not? For that shrewes discorden of hemselfe by her vices, the which vices all to renden her consciences, and doen oft tyme thinges, the which things, when they haue done hem, they deme that tho thinges ne should not haue be doen, for which thing y• soverain purueiance hath maked oft tyme myracle: So that shrewes haue maked shrewes to been good men. For when that some shrewes seene, that they suffre wrongfully felonies of other shrewes, they waxen eschaufed into hate of hem that anoied hem, and retournen to the fruict of vertue. Then they studien to be vnlike to hem that they haue hated. Certes only is this the diuine might, to y• which might yuels been then good, when it vseth ye yuels couenably, and draweth out the effect of any good, as who saieth, yt yuel is good onely to y• might of God, for y• might of God ordeyneth thilke euill to be good: for one order embraceth all things, so that what wight departeth from ye reason of thilke order yt is assigned to him, algates yet he slideth into another order, so yt nothing is lefull to foly, in the realme of diuine purueiaunce, as who sayeth, nothing is without ordinance in the realme of diuine purueiaunce, sith that [Page 397] the right strong God gouerneth all things in this world, for it is not lefull for men to comprehende by wit, ne vnfolden by worde, all the subtell ordinaunce, and the disposicion of the diuine entent, for onely it ought to suffice, to haue looked that God himselfe, maker of all natures, ordaineth all things to good, while that he hasteth to withhold the thinges that he hath maked into his semblance, that is to say, for to withholden the things into good, for he himselfe is good. He chaseth out all iuels fro the bond of his comminalties, by thorder of the necessitie destinable: for which it followeth, that if thou loke the purueiaunce, ordeyning the thinges that men wenen be outragious or haboundant in yerthes, thou shalt not seen in no place nothyng of iuell. But I see now that thou art charged with the weight of the question, and weary with length of my reason, and that thou abidest some sweetnesse of song, take then this draught, and when thou art well refreshed and refect, thou shalt be more stedfast to fly into higher questions or things.
Si vis oelsi jura tonantis. Plura solers cernere mente. Aspice summi culmina coeli.
IF thou wise wolt demen in thy pure thought, the rights or the lawes of the hie thonder, that is to sain, of God, looke thou and beholde the heightes of the soueraine heauen: There kepen the Sterres, by rightfull aliaunce of thyngs her old peace: The Sunne imoued by his roddie fire, ne distourbeth not the colde cercle of the Mone, ne the sterre icleped the Bere, that enclineth his rauishing courses, abouten the soueraine height of this worlde: Ne the same sterre Vrsa, nis neuer mo washen in the deepe Westren sea, ne coueteth not to dien his [...]ames in the sea of the Occian, although it see other Sterres iplonged in the Sea: And Hesperus the Sterre boodeth and telleth alway the late nights: And Lucifer the Sterre bringeth ayen the cleare day.
And thus maketh loue enterchaungeable, the perdurable courses, and thus is discordable battayle yput out of the countrey of the sterres. This accordaunce attempreth by euenlike maners the Elements, that the moyst things striuing with the drie things, yeuen place by stoundes: And that the colde thinges joynen hem by fayth to the hote thinges, and that the light fire ariseth in to height, and the heauy yearths auayleth by her weights: by the same causes the flourie yeere yeldeth swete smels: in the first Sommer season warming, and the hote Sommer dryeth the Cornes, and Autumpne commeth ayen of heauy Appels, and the fleeting rayne be deweth the Winter, this attempraunce nourisheth and bryngeth forth all things that beareth life in this worlde, and thilke same attempraunce rauishing, hideth, benimeth, and drencheth vnder the last death all things iborne.
Among these things sitteth the high maker, King and Lorde, weale and beginnyng, Lawe and wise Iudge, to doen equitee, and gouerneth and enclineth the bridels of things: And tho things that he sterreth to gone by mouing, he withdraweth and aresteth, and affirmeth the moueable or wandring things. For if that he ne called not ayen the right going of things, and if that he ne constrayned hem not efte sones into roundnesse enclined, the things that been now continued by stable ordinaunce, they should departen from her weale, that is to saine, from her beginning and fallen, that is to saine, tournen into nought. This is the common loue to all things: and all things asken to been holden by the fine of good, for elles ne mighten they not fasten, if they ne come not e [...]tsones ayen by loue, retourned to the cause that hath yeuen hem beyng, that is to saine, God.
Jam ne igitur vides quid haec omnia quae diximus consequantur. Quid nam inquit. Omnem inquit, &c.
SEest thou not then, what thing followeth all the things that I haue saied. Boetius. What thing (qd. I.) Philosophie. Certes (qd. she) all vtterly, that all fortune is good. Boetius. And how may that be (qd. I.) Philosophie. Now vnderstand (qd. she.) So as all fortune, wheder so it be joyfull fortune, or aspre fortune, is yeuen eyther bycause of guerdoning, or elles of exercising of good folkes, or elles bycause to punishen, or elles chastisen shrews: then is all fortune good, the which fortune is certaine, that it be eyther rightfull or elles profitable.
Boetius. Forsothe this is a full very reason (qd. I) and if I consider the purueighaunce and the destinie that thou oughtest me a little here beforne, this sentence is susteyned by stedfast reasons. But if it lyke vnto thee, let vs nombren hem emonges the ilke thinges, of which thou saidest a little here beforne, that they ne were not able to ben wened to the people. Philosophie. Why so (qd. she?) Boet. For that the common word of men (qd. I) misuseth this maner speech of fortune, and saine oft tymes, that the fortune of some wight is wicked. Philosophie. Wilt thou then (qd. she) that I approche a little to the words of the people, so that it seme not to hem, that I be ouermoch departed, as fro the vsage of mankinde. Boetius. As thou wolt (qd. I.) Philosophie. Wenest thou not (qd. she) that all thing that profiteth, is good? Boetius. Yes (qd. I.) Philosophie. Certes all thing that exerceth or corrigeth, it profiteth. Boetius. I confesse well (qd. I.) Philosophie. Then is it good (qd. she.) Boetius. Why not (qd. I.) Philosophie. But this is the [Page 398] fortune (qd. she) of hem that eyther be put in vertue, and battaylen agaynst aspre things, or els of hem that enclinen, and declinen fro vices, and taken the way of vertue. Boetius. This ne may I not deny (qd. I.) Philosophie. But what sayest thou of the merie fortune that is yeuen to good people in guerdon, demeth ofte the people that it be wicked? Boetius. Nay forsoth (qd. I) but they demen as it is soth, that it is right good. Philosophie. What saiest thou of the other fortune (qd. she) that although that it be aspre, and restraineth the shrews by rightfull tourment, weneth aught the people that it be good? Boet. Nay (qd. I.) but the people demeth that it is most wretched of all things that may be thought. Philosophie. Ware now, and looke well (qd. she) least wee in followyng the opinion of the people, haue confessed and concluded thing which that is vnable to been wened to the people. Boetius. What is that (qd. I.) Philosophie. Certes (qd. she) it followeth or commeth of things that been graunted, that all fortune what so euer it bee, of hem that been eyther in possession of vertue, or in thencrease of vertue, or els in the purchasing of vertue, that thilke Fortune is good, and that all Fortune is right wicked, to hem that dwellen in shreudnesse, as who saith, and thus weneth not the people. Boetius. That is soth (qd. I.) Albeit so that no man dare confesse it, ne know it. Philosophie. Why so (qd. she.) For right as the strong man, ne semeth not to abashen or disdaynen, as oft tyme as he heareth the noyse of the battail: ne also it seemeth not to the wiseman, to bearen it grieuously, as oft as he is ledde into strife of fortune. For bothe to that one man, and eke to that other, the ilke difficultie is the matter, to that one man of encrease of hys glorious renome, and to that other man, to conserue his sapience, that is to say, to the asprenesse of his estate. * For therefore is it called vertue, for that it susteyneth and enforceth by his strengthes, so that it is not ouercommen by aduersities. Ne certes, thou that arte putte in encrease, or in the height of vertue, ne hast not commen to fleten with delices, and for to walken in bodily lust. Thou sowest or plantest a full eigre battayle in thy courage ayenst euery Fortune: for that the sorrowfull fortune confounde thee not, ne that the merie Fortune ne corrumpe thee not, occupie the meane by stedfast strengthes. For all that euer is vnder the meane, or all that ouerpasseth the meane, dispiseth welefulnesse, as who sayeth, it is vicious, and ne hath no mede of his trauayle, for it is set in your hand, as who sayeth, it lieth in your power, what Fortune you is leuest, that is to say, good or iuel, for all fortune that semeth sharpe or aspre, if it ne exercise not the good folke, ne chastise the wicked folke, it punisheth.
Bella bis quinis operatus annis. Ultor Atrides phrygiae ruinis, &c.
THe werker Atrides, that is to sain, Agamemnon, that wrought and continued the battayles by ten yeere, recouered and purged in wreking by the distruction of Troie, the loste chambers of Mariage in his brother, that is to say, that Agamemnon wan ayen Heleine, that was Menelaus wife, his brother. In the meane while that thilke Agamemnon desired to yeuen sayles to the Grekes nauie, & brought ayen the windes by blood: He vnclothed him of pitee of father, and the sorie Priest yeueth in sacrifiyng, the wretched cuttyng of the throte of the doughter: that is to say, that Agamemnon let cut the throte of his doughter by the Priest, to maken aliaunce with his Goddes, and for to haue wind, with which he might wenden to Troy. Itacus, that is to say, Vlixes bewept his fellowes ylorne, the which fellowes, the fiers Poliphemus, liggyng in his great caue, had fretten and dreint in his emptie wombe: But natheles Poliphemus wood for his blind visage yeld to Vlixes joy, by his sorrowfull teares, that is to say, that Vlixes smote out the iye of Poliphemus, that stoode in the forehead, for which Vlixes had joy, when he saw Poliphemus wepyng and blind. Hercules is celebrable for his hard trauaile, he daunted the proude Centaurus, halfe horse, halfe man, and byraft the dispoiling fro the cruel Lion, that is to say, he slough the Lion, and birafte him his skin. He smote the birdes that hight Arpies, with certain arrowes. He rauished Apples fro the waking dragon: and his hand was the more heauy for the golden mettall. He drough Cerberus the hound of hell by the triple chaynes. He ouercomer, as it is saied, hath put an vnmeke lord fodder to his cruell horse, that is to say, Hercules slough Diomedes, and made his horse to fretten him: and he Hercules slough Idra the Serpent, and brent the venim. And Achileus the flood defouled in his forehedde, dreint his shamefast visage in his stroundes, that is to say, that Achileus could transfigure himselfe into diuers likenes, and as he fought with Hercules, at last he tourned him into a Bull, and Hercules brake one of his hornes: and he for shame hid hym in his Riuer. And ouer that, he Hercules, caste adoune Antheus the Giaunt in the strondes of Libie. And Cacus appeised the wrathes of Euander, that is to say, that Hercules slough the monster Cacus, and apeised with that death the wrath of Euander. And the bristled Bore, marked with vomes the shoulders of Hercules, the whiche sholders, the hie cercle of heauen should thrist. And the last of his labours was, that he susteined the heauen vpon his neck vnbowed, and he deserved eftsones the heauen to be y• last ende of trauayle. Goeth now yee strong men, there as the great ensample leadeth you. O nice [Page 399] men, why make ye your backs, as who sayeth: O ye slowe and delicate men, why see ye aduersities, and ne fight against hem by vertue, to winnen the mede of heauen: for the mede ouercommen, yeueth the Sterres, that is to saine, that when that yearthly lust is ouercommen, a man is maked worthy to the heauen.
Dixerat, orationisque cursum ad alia quaedam tractanda atque expedienda vertebat. B. Tum ego, recta quidem inquam, &c.
SHe had said, and turned the course of her reason to some other things, to be treated and to be sped. Boetius. Then said I, certes rightfull is thine amonesting, and full digne by aucthoritie. But that thou saidest whilom, that the question of the Diuine purveiaunce, is enlaced with many other questions, I vnderstand well and proue it by the same thing. But I aske, if that thou wenest, that happe bee any thing, in any wayes? and if thou wenest that happe be any thing, what is it? Philosophie. Then (qd. she) I haste me to yelden and assoilen to the debte of my behest, and to shewen and open the way, by which way thou maiest come ayen to thy countrie: but albeit so that the thinges which that thou askest been right profitable to know, yet been they diuers, somewhat fro the path of my purpose, and it is to doubt, that thou ne be maked wearie by misse wayes, so that thou ne maiest not suffice to measure the right way. Boetius. Ne doubt thee thereof nothing (qd. I,) for to knowen thilke things togider, in the which things I delite me greatly, that shall been to me in steede of rest, sith it nis not to doubten of the thynges following, when euery thyng of thy disputacion, shall hauen ben stedfast to me, by vndoubtous faith. Philosophie. Then (said she) that manner woll I doen to thee: and beganne to speaken right thus. Certes (qd. she) if any wight definishe hap in this maner, that is to saine, that hap is betiding ibrought foorthe by foolishe mouing, and by no knitting of causes, I confirme that hap nys right naught in no wise, and I deeme all vtterly, that hap nys, ne dwelleth but a voyce, as who sayeth, but an idell woorde, without any significacion of thynge committed to that voyce. For what place might been lefte, or dwellyng in follie, and to disordenaunce, sithe that God leadeth and constrayneth all thynges by order: for this sentence is very sooth, that nothing hath hys beyng of naughte, to the whiche sentence, none of these olde folke ne withsayed neuer, all be it so, that they ne vnderstanden it not by God, Prince and beginner of workyng, but they easten, as a manner foundement of subject materiall, that is to saine, of the nature of all reason. And if that any thing is waxen or commen of no causes, then shall it seeme, that thilke thyng is commen or woxen of naught. But if this ne may not be done, then is it not possible that hap be any soche thing, as I haue definished a little here beforne. Boetius. How shall it then bee (qd. I) nis there then nothing, that by right may been cleaped, eyther happe, or els adventure, or fortune? Or is there ought, all be it so, that it is hidde fro the people, to which thing these words been couenable. Philosophie. Mine Aristotle (qd. she) in the booke of his Phisike, difinisheth this thing by short reason, and nigh to the sothe. Boetius. In which maner (qd. I?) Philosophie. As ofte (qd. she) as men done any thyng for grace of any other thyng, and another thyng than thilke thyng that menne entenden to doen betideth by some causes, it is icleaped happe: right as a man dalfe the yearth, bycause of tillyng of the field, and found there a gobet of golde bedoluen, then wenen folke, that it is befall by fortunous betidyng. But forsooth it nis not of naught, for it hath his proper causes, of which causes, the cours vnforeseen and vnware, seemeth to haue maked hap. For if the tiller of the field, ne dolue not in the yearth, and if the hider of the golde ne had hid the golde in that place, the golde ne had not been found. These been then the causes, of the abredgyng of fortuit hap, the which abredgyng of fortuit hap commeth of causes of encountryng, and flowyng togither to hemselfe, and not by thentencion of the doer. For neyther the hider of the golde, ne the deluer of the field, ne vnderstanden not that the golde should haue been found. But as I saied, it betide and ran togither, that he dalfe there as the other had hid the golde. Now may I thus definishe hap. * Hap is an vnware betidyng of causes, assembled in things that been doen for some other thyng. But thilke order, procedyng by an vneschuable betiding togither, which that discendeth from the well of purueighaunce, that ordeyneth all thyngs in her places, and in her times maketh, that the causes rennen and assemblen togither.
Rupis Achimeniae scopulis ubi versa sequentum. Pectoribus figit spicula, &c.
TIgris and Eufrates, resoluen and springen of o welle, in the cragges of the roche of the countrey of Achemenee, there as the fliyng battayles fixen her darts, retourning in the breasts of hem that folowen hem. And sone after the same riuers, Tigris and Eufrates, vnjoynen and departen her waters, and if they commen together, and been assembled, and cleaped together into o course, [Page 400] then moten thilke things fleten togider, which that the water of thenterchaunging flood bringeth. The shippes and the stockes araced with the flood moten assemblen, and the waters imedled, wrappeth or emplieth many fortunell happes or maners, the which wandring happes nathelesse, thilke declinyng lownesse of the yerth, and the flowyng order of the slidyng water gouerneth. Right so fortune, that seemeth as it suffreth with slaked or vngouerned bridles, it suffreth bridles, that is to saine, to been gouerned, and passeth by thilke lawe, that is to saine, by the diuine ordinaunce.
Animadverto inquam, idque uti tu dicis ita esse, consentio. Sed in hac haerentium, &c.
THis vnderstand I well (qd. I) and I accord me that it is right as thou sayest. But I aske if there be any liberty of Free-will, in this order of causes, that cleauen thus togither in hemself? or els I would weten if that the destinall cheyne, constrayneth the mouyng of the courages of men? Philosophie. Yes (qd. she) there is liberty of free-will, ne there ne was neuer no nature of reason, that it ne had liberty or free-will. * For euery thyng that may naturally vsen reason, it hath dome, by which it decerneth and deemeth euery thyng. Then knoweth it by it selfe, thyngs that been to flien, and thyngs that been to desiren, and the ilke thyng that any wight demeth to been desired, that asketh or desireth he, and flieth thilke thing, that he troweth be to flien. Wherefore in all thyngs that reason is, in him also is liberty of willyng and of nillyng, but I ne ordayne not, as who sayeth, I ne graunt not, that this liberty be euen like in all thyngs. For why, in the Soueraines devines substaunces, that is to sain, in spirites, judgement is more clere and will not corrumpen, and mighty ready to speden things that been desired. But the soules of men moten needes been more free, when they looken hem in the speculacion, or looking of the deuine thought, and lasse free when they sliden into the bodies, and yet lasse free when they ben gathered togither and comprehended in yearthly members, but the last servage is, when that they been yeuen to vices, and haue ifall from the possession of her proper reason. For after that they haue caste away her iyen, fro the light of the Soueraine sothfastnesse, to low things and darcke, anone they darcken by the cloude of ignoraunce, and be troubled by felonious talentes, to the which talentes, when they approchen and assenten, they heapen and encreasen the servage, which they haue joyned to hemselfe. And in this maner they been caytiues, fro her proper libertie, the which thyng nathelesse, the lookyng of the deuine purueiaunce seeth, that all thyngs beholdeth and seeth fro eterne, and ordeyneth hem euerich in her merites, as they been predestinate, and it is said in Greke, * That all thyngs he seeth, and all thyngs he heareth.
Puro clarum lumine Phoebum. Melliflui canit oris Homerus, &c.
HOmer with his hony mouth, that is to saine, Homer with the sweet ditees singeth, that the Sunne is cleare by pure light. Nathelesse, yet ne may it not by the infirme light of his beames, breaken or percen the inwarde entrailes of the yearth, or els of the Sea. So ne seeth not God maker of the greate worlde, to him that looketh all thyngs from on high, ne vnderstandeth no thyngs by heauinesse of the yearth, ne the night ne withstandeth not to him by the blacke cloudes. * Thilke God seeth in o stroke of thought, all thyngs that been, weren, or shull come: and thilke God, for he looketh and seeth all thyngs alone, thou mayst saine that he is the very sonne.
Tum ego: en inquam difficiliori rursus ambiguitate confundor, &c.
THen said I thus, now am I confounded, by a more hard doubt than I was. Philos. What doubt is that (qd. she) for certes, I conject nowe by soche thyngs, thou art troubled. B. It seemeth (qd. I) to repugnen and to contrary greatly, that God knoweth beforne all thyngs, and that there is any freedome or libertie, for if so be that God looketh all thyngs beforne, ne God ne may not been deceyued in no maner. Then mote it needs bee, that all thyngs the which that the purueiaunce of God, hath seene beforne to come, for which if that God knoweth toforne, not onely the werkes of men, but also her counsailes and her willes, then ne shall there be no libertie of arbitree, ne certes, there ne may be none other deede, ne no will, but the ilke which that the deuine purueiaunce (that ne may not been deceyved) hath feeled beforne: for if that they mighten wrythen away, in other maner than they been purueied, then ne should there be no stedfast prescience of thing to commen, but rather an vncertaine opinion, the which thing to trowen to God, I deme it felony and vnlefull. Ne I ne proue not the ilke same reason, as who sayeth, I ne alowe not, or I ne prayse not thilke same reason, by which that some men wenen, that they mowen assoilen and vnknitten the knot of this question. For certes they saine, that thing nis not commen, for that the purueiaunce of God hath seen beforne that it is to commen, but rather the contrary, and that is this, that for that the thyngs is to commen, that therefore ne may it not been hid fro the purueiaunce of God. And in this maner, this necessitie slideth ayen into the contrarie partie, ne it ne behoueth not needes, that [Page 401] things betiden that been ypurueighed, but it behoueth needs that things yt been to commen been ypurueighed, but as it were ytrauailed, as who saith, that thilke answere proceedeth right as though men trauaileden or weren busie to enquiren, the which thing is cause of the which things. As whether the prescience is cause of the necessitie of things to commen, or els yt the necessitie of thinges to commen is cause of the purueighaunce. But I ne enforce me not now to shewen it, that the betiding of thinges iwiste beforne is necessary, how so or in what maner, yt the order of causes hath it selfe, although yt it ne seeme not that the prescience bryng in necessitie of betiding, to things to commen. For c [...]tes, if that any wight sitteth, it behoueth by necessitie that the opinion be sooth of hym that coniecteth that he sitteth: and ayenwarde also is it of the contrary, for if y• opinion be soothe of any wight, for that he sitteth, it behoueth by necessitie that he sitte. Then is here necessitie in that one, and in that other: for in that one is necessity of sittyng, and certes in that other is necessity of soth. But therefore ne sitteth not a wight, for that the opinion of the sitting is soth, but the opinion is rather soth, for that a wight sitteth beforne. And thus although that the cause of soth commeth of that other side, as who sayeth, that although the cause of sothe commeth of the sitting, and not of the true opinion, algates yet is there a common necessity in that one, & in that other. Thus semeth it, y• I may make semblable skilles of the purueighaunce of God, & of things to commen. For although that for yt things been to commen, therefore been they purueighed, & not certes for they been purueighed, therfore ne betide they not, nathelesse it behoueth by necessity, that either the things to commen beene ypurueyed of God, or els yt y• things that been purueighed of God, betiden. And this things onely suffiseth inough to destroyen the freedome of our arbitty, yt is to saine, of our freewill. But certes, now sheweth it well how farre fro the sothe, & how vp so doune is this thing, y• we seen that the betidyng of temporall things is cause of the eterne prescience. But for to wenen y• God purueyeth y• things to commen, for they ben to commen, what other thing is it but for to wene, that thilke things that betide whilom, been causes of thilk souerain purueighaunce that is in God? And hereto adde I thinges, that right as when that I wote that a thing is, it behoueth by necessity that thilke selfe thyng be: and eke when I haue knowen that any thing shall betyden, so behoueth it by necessity, that thilke same thinges betyde. So followeth it then, that the betidyng of the things iwist beforne, ne may not be eschewed, and at y• last, if that any wight wene a thing to been otherwise than it is, it nis not onely vnscience, but it is deceiueable opinion, full diuers & farre fro the sothe of science. Wherfore, if any thyng he so to commen, that the betidyng of it ne be not certaine, ne necessary, who may weten beforne y• thilke thing is to commen. For right as science ne may not be medled with falsenesse, as who saieth, that if I wote a thing, it ne may not be false that I ne wote it, right of thilke thing that is conceiued by science, ne may not be none otherwise than as it is conceiued: for that is y• cause why that Science wanteth lesing, as who saieth, why that weting ne receyueth not lesing of that it wote, for it behoueth by necessity, y• euery thing be right, as Science comprehendeth it to be. What shall I then saine, in which maner knoweth God beforne all the thinges to commen, if they ne be not certain, for if that he deme that they been to commen vneschuably, and so may be that it is possible that they ne shullen not comen, God is deceiued, but not only to trowen that God is deceyued: but for to speake it with mouth, it is a felonous sin. But if that God wote, that right so as things been to commen, so shullen they commen, so that he wote egally, as who saith indifferently, that things may be done or els not ydone. What is thilk prescience, that ne comprehendeth no certayne thyng ne stable, or els what difference is there between y• prescience of thilke jape, worthy Deuining of Tiresie Deuinour, y• sayd: All that I say (qd. he) eyther it shall be, or els it ne shall not be, or els how moche is worth the Deuine prescience more than the opinion of mankind, if so be that it demeth y• things vncertain, as men done? Of y• which domes of men, the betiding nys not certain. But if so be, that none vncertaine things ne may been in him that is right certayne well of all things, then is the betidyng certaine of thilke things which that he hath wiste beforne, fermely to commen: for whiche it followeth, that the freedome of the counsailes, and of the werkes of mankind nis none, sith y• the thought of GOD that seeth all thyngs without errour of falsenesse, bindeth & constrayneth hem to a betidyng by necessity. And if this thing be ones igraunted and receiued, this is to saine, that there nis no freewill, then sheweth it well, how great destruction & how great domages there folowen of things of mankind, for in idell been there then purposed & behight medes to good folke, & pains to bad folke, sith that no mouyng of free courage voluntarie, ne hath not deserued hem, y• is to saine, neyther mede ne payne. And it should seeme then, that thilke thing is alderworst, which that is now demed for aldermost just, and most rightful. That is to sain, that shrewes ben punished, or els that good folk be iguerdonned, the which folkes, sen that her proper will ne sent hem to that one, ne to y• other, that is to sayne, neyther to good ne harm, but constraineth hem certain necessity of things to comen, then ne shullen ther neuer ben, ne neuer weren vice ne vertue, but it shullen rather be confusion of all deserts, medled [Page 402] without discrecion. And yet there followeth another inconuenience, of y• which there ne may be thought no more felonous ne more wicked, and y• is thus, That so as y• order of things commeth of the purueiaunce of God, ne that nothing nis leful to the counsailes of mankind, as who saieth, that men haue no power to doen nothing, ne will nothing, then followeth it that our vices been referred to the maker of al good, as who saith, then followeth it, that God ought to have the blame of our vices, sith he constraineth vs by necessitie to done vices: then nis there no reason to hopen in God, ne to prayen to God, for wt should any wight hopen to God, or why should he praien to God, sith yt the ordinaunce of destinie, which y• ne may not been enclined, knitteth & streyneth all things that men may desiren. Then should there be done away thilke only aliaunce betwene God & man, that is to saine, to hopen & to prayen. But by y• price of rightwisenesse, & of very mekenesse, we deserven y• guerdon of Diuine grace, which yt is inestimable, that is to say, that is so great y• it ne may not been full praised, and this is only the maner, that is to say, hope and praiers. For which it seemeth y• men woll speak with God, & by reason of supplicacion, ben conjoined to thilk clearnes, that nis not approched no rather than men seken it & impetren it. And if men ne wene not the hope ne prayers ne have no strengthes by y• necessitie of things to comen received, what thing is there then, by which we mowen be conjoyned, and cleuen to thilke soueraine Prince of things. For which it behoveth by necessitie, that the linage of mankind, as thou song a little here beforne, be departed & unjoyned from his wele, & failen of his beginning, that is to saine, God.
Quae nam discors federa rerum, Causa resolvit? Quis tanta deus, &c.
WHat discordable cause hath to rent and vnjoyned the binding or the aliaunce of things, that is to saine, the conjunctions of GOD, and of man? Which GOD hath established so great battaile betweene these two soothfaste or very things, that is to saine, betweene the purueyaunce of God, and free will, that been singular, and deuided, ne that they ne wollen not beene meddled, ne coupsed togeder? But there nis no discord to the very things, but they cleauen alway certaine to hemselfe. But the thought of man, confounded & overthrowne by y• darke members of y• body, ne may not by fire of his darked looking, that is to saine, by y• vigour of his insight, while the soule is in the body, knowen the thinne subtill knittings of things. But wherefore eschaufeth it so by so great loue, to finden thilke notes of sooth ycovered, y• is to saine, wherefore eschaufeth y• thought of man by so great desire, to know thilk notifications y• ben ihid vnder y• couertures of sooth? Wote it ought thilke things, that it anguishous desireth to knowe? As who sayth, nay. For no man ne trauayleth for to weten things that he wote. And therefore y• text sayth thus.
But who trauayleth to weten thinges yknowe? And if that he ne knoweth hem not, wt seeketh thilke blind thought? What is hee that hath desired any thynges, of which hee wote right naught? As who saith, who so desireth any things, needs somewhat he knoweth of it, or els he ne coud not desiren it. Or who may follow things that ne been not iwist, and though that he seeke the thyngs, where shall he find hem? What wight that is all vncunning and ignoraunt may knowe that forme that is ifound.
But when the soule beholdeth and seeth the high thought, y• is to sayne God, then knoweth it togither y• summe and singularities, that is to sayne, the principles, and eueriche of hem by himselfe. But now while the soule is hid in the cloud, and in y• darkenesse of the members of ye bodie, it ne hath not all foryeten it selfe, but it withholdeth y• summe of thynges, and leseth the singularities. Then who so that seeketh soothnesse, he nis in neyther nother habite, for he wote not all, ne hee ne hath not all foryeten, but yet him remembreth the summe of thynges y• hee withholdeth, and asketh counsayle, and retreateth deepliche thinges iseene beforne, that is to sayne, the great summe in his mind, so that he mowe adden the partes y• hee hath foryeten, to thilke parties that he hath withholden.
Tum illa. Vetus inquit, haec est de providentia querela: Marco Tullio, &c.
THen saied she, This is (qd. she) the old question of the purueyaunce of God. And Marcus Tullius, when he deuided the Deuinacions, that is to saine, in his bookes that hee wrote of deuinacions, he moued greatly this question, and thou thy selfe haste isought it much, & vtterly and long, but yet ne hath it not been determined, ne isped fermely & diligently of any of you, and the cause of this darknesse & of this difficulty is, for yt the mouing of ye reason of mankinde ne may not mouen to, yt is to sayne, applien or joynen to the simplicitie of the diuine prescience, the which simplicitie of ye diuine prescience if y• men mighten thinken it in any manner, yt is to sayne, yt if men mighten thinke and comprehenden the things yt God seeth himself, then there dwelled vtterly no doubt: the which reason and cause of difficulties, I shall assay at last to shew & to speeden, when I haue first ispended and answered to thy reasons, by which thou art moued, for I ask why thou wenest, y• thilke reasons of hem that assoilen this question, ne be not spedfull inough ne sufficient, y• which solucion, or y• which reason, for y• it deemeth, yt the prescience is not of necessity of things to come, as who saith any other way than thus, but yt thilke things [Page 403] that y• prescience wote beforn, ne may not vnbetiden, yt is to sayne, that they moten betide. But then, if that prescience ne putteth none necessitie to thinges to commen, as thou thy selfe hast confessed it, and beknow a litle here beforne, what cause, or what is it, as who saieth, there may no cause be, by which that the ends voluntarie of things, mighten be constrayned to certaine betiding. For by grace of posicion, so yt thou may the better vnderstand this y• followeth, I suppose yt there ne bee no prescience: then aske I (qd. she) in as much as appertayneth to that, shoulden then thinges yt commen of free will be constrained to betiding by necessitie? Boecius. Nay (qd. I.) Philoso. Then ayenward (qd. she) I suppose yt there be prescience, but that it ne putteth no necessitie to things, then trowe I that thilke same freedome of will shall dwellen all hole and absolute, & unbounden. But thou wilt sayne, that all be it so, that prescience nis not cause of y• necessity of betiding to things to commen, algates yet it is a signe that the thyngs been to betiden by necessitie. By this manner then, although y• prescience had neuer be, yet algates or at least way it is a certain thing, that ends of betidings of things to commen shoulden be necessary. For euery thing sheweth & signifieth onely what y• thing is, but it ne maketh not the thing that it signifieth. For which it behoueth, first to shew, that nothing ne betideth, that it ne betideth by necessitie: so that it may appear, that the prescience is signe of necessitie: or els, if there nere no necessitie, certes thilke prescience ne might not bee signe of thyng that nis not. But certes, it is nowe certaine, that ye prooue of this, ysusteined by stedfast reason, ne shall not ben lad ne prooued by signes ne by arguments taken fro without, but by causes covenable & necessarie. But thou mayst saine, how may it be, that the thyngs ne betiden not, that been purueyed to commen? But certes, right as we trowen, that the thyngs which that the purueyaunce wote beforne to commen, ne be not to betiden. But that ne should we not deemen, but rather, although they shall betiden, yet ne haue they no necessitie of her kind to betiden: and this mayest thou lightly apperceyuen by this yt I shall saine. For we seene many thynges, when they been beforne our eyen, right as men seene y• Carter worching in the tourning and in the attempring or addressing of his carts or chariots, & by this manner, as who sayth, maiest thou vnderstand of all other werkemen. Is there then any necessitie, as who saieth, in our looking, that constrayneth or compelleth any of thilke things to been done so? Boeci. Nay (qd. I) for in idle & in vain were all the effect of craft, if yt all thyngs weren moued by constrayning of our eyen, or of our sight. Philoso. The things then (qd. she) that when that men done hem, ne haue no necessitie y• men done hem, eke tho same things first or they be done, they been to commen without necessitie: for why, there ben some things to betiden, of which the ends & the betidings of hem been absolute and quit of all necessitie. For certes, I ne trowe not yt any man would sayne this, that the thyngs that men done now, that they ne were to betiden first, ere they were done. And thilk same things, although men hadden wist hem beforne, yet they haue free betidings. For right as science of things present, ne bringeth in no necessitie to things y• men done, right so to the prescience of things to commen, ne bringeth in none necessitie to thinges to betiden. But thou mayest sayne, that of thilke same it is doubted, as whether y• of thilke things, that ne haue none issues and betidings necessaries, if thereof may ben any prescience. For certes, they seemen to discorden, for thou wenest, that if that things been seene before, y• necessitie followeth hem, and if necessitie fayleth hem, they ne might not beene wist before, and y• nothing may be comprehended by science, but certaine. And if tho things ne haue no certain betidings, be purveighed as certayne, it should be darknesse of opinion, not soothfastnesse of science. And thou wenest that it be diuers fro the holinesse of science, that any man should deeme a thyng to bee otherwise than it is it selfe: and the cause of this errour is, y• of all the thyngs y• euery wight hath knowe, they wene y• tho thyngs been knowe onely by y• strength, and by the nature of the thynges y• been wist or knowe, and it is all y• contrarie: for all that euer is knowe, it is rather comprehended & know, not after his strength & his nature, but after yc facultie, yt is to sayne, the power and the nature of hem y• knowen. And for y• this thyng should now shewe by a short ensample the roundnesse of a bodie, otherwise than the sight of y• eye knoweth it, and otherwise than the touching. The looking, by casting of his beams, waiteth and seeth from afarre all y• bodie together, without mouing of it selfe, but the touching cleaueth to the round body, & moueth about y• enuironning, & comprehendeth the parties by roundnesse, & the man himselfe otherwise beholdeth him, and otherwaies imaginacion, and otherwise reason, and otherwise intelligence. For the wit comprehended without forth the figure of the bodie of man, that is vnstablished in the matter subject. But the imaginacion comprehendeth onely the figure without the matter. Reason surmounteth imaginacion, and comprehendeth by vniuersall looking the common speech, but y• eye of intelligence is higher, for it surmounteth y• enuironning of the vniuersitie, and looketh over that, by pure subtiltie of thought. The ilke same simple forme of man, that is perdurable in the deuine thought, in whyche this ought greatly to bee considered, y• the highest strengthe for to comprehenden thynges, embraceth and contayneth the lower strength, but the lower strength ne ariseth not in no manner to y• higher strength. For wit ne may [Page 402] [...] [Page 403] [...] [Page 404] comprehend nothyng out of matter, ne the imaginacion ne looketh not the vniuersall speces, ne reason ne taketh not the simple forme, so as intelligence taketh it. But intelligence, that looketh all abouen, when it hath comprehended the forme, it knoweth and deemeth all the thynges that beene vnder the forme, but she knoweth hem in thilke manner in which it comprehendeth thilke same simple forme, that ne may neuer bee knowen of none of the other, that is to say, to none of tho three foresayed strengthes of the soule, for it knoweth the vniuersitie of reason, and the figure of imaginacion, and the sensible materiall conceyued by wit, ne it ne vseth not ne of reason, ne of imaginacion, ne of wit withoutforth, but it beholdeth all thyngs, so as I shall say, by a stroke of thought fermely, without discourse of collacion. Certes, reason when it looketh any thing vniuersell, it ne vseth not of imaginacion ne wit, & algates yet it comprehendeth y• thynges imaginable & sensible, for reason is shee that definisheth y• vniuersall of her conceit, right thus. Man is a reasonable two-footed beast, and how so that this knowing is vniuersall, yet nis there no wight, that ne wote well, y• a man is a thyng imaginable and sensible, and this same considereth well reason, but that nis not by imaginacion, nor by wit, but it looketh it by reasonable concepcion. Also imaginacion, albeit so, that it taketh of wit the beginning, to seen and formen the figures, algates although y• wit ne were not present, yet it enuironneth and comprehendeth all things sensible, not by reason sensible of deeming, but by reason imaginatife. Seest thou not then, y• all the things in knowing, vsen more of her facultie, or of her power, than they done of the facultie or of power of things that ben to knowen: ne y• is no wrong, for so as euery judgement is, that deed or doing of him yt demeth, it behoueth that euery wight performe his werke, and his entencion, not of forraine power, but of his proper power.
Quondam porticus attulit, Obscuros nimium senes, &c.
THen the porch, that is to say, a gate of the towne of Athens, there as Philosopers hadden congregacion to dispute, thilk porch brought sometime olde men ful dark in her sentences, that is to say, Philosophers, that highten Stoiciens, that wende that Images and sensibilities, that is to say, sensible imaginacions, or els imaginacions of sensible things, were emprinted into soules fro bodies withoutfoorth: as who sayth, thilke Stoiciens wenden, that the soule had be naked of himself, as a mirrour, or a cleane perchemine, so that all figures musten first commen fro thyngs fro without into soules, and ben emprinted into soules, right as we ben wont sometime by a swift pointel, to fixen letters emprinted in y• smoothnesse, or in the plainenesse of the table of waxe, or in y• parchemine, that hath no figure ne note in it. Glose. But now argueth Boece agaynst y• opinion, and sayth thus. But if the thriuing soule ne vnpliteth nothing, that is to saine, ne doth thing by his proper mouing, but suffreth and lieth subject to the figures, & to y• notes of bodies without forth, and yeeldeth Images idle, euill and vaine, in the manner of a mirrour. Whence thriueth then, or whence commeth thilke knowing in our soule that discerneth and beholdeth all things, & whence is thilke strength, that beholdeth the singular things, or els whence is the strength, that deuideth things yknowe, and thilke strength that gathereth together thynges deuided, & strength that choseth y• enterchaunged way: for sometime it heaueth the head, yt is to say, yt it heaueth vp the entencion to right high things, and sometime it discendeth into right low thyngs, and when it returneth into himselfe it reproueth and destroieth y• false things by the true things.
Certes, this strength is cause more efficient & much more mightie, to seen & to known things, than thilke cause that suffreth & receiueth the notes and figures impressed in manner of matter. Algates the passion, yt is to say, the sufferaunce or the wit in y• quicke bodie, goeth before exciting, and mouing y• strengths of the thought, right so as when y• clearenesse smiteth the eyen, & moueth hem to seeene, or right so as voyce or soun hurleth to the eares, and commoueth hem to hearken, then is the strength of the thought moued & excited, cleapeth forth to semblable mouings the speces that it halt within it selfe, and addeth the speces to the notes, and to thynges withoutfoorth, and medleth the Images of things withoutforth, to thinges hid within himselfe.
Quod si in corporibus sentiendis quamvis efficiant Instrumenta sensuum, &c.
BVt what is that in bodies to be feeled, that is to say, in the taking: and in the knowing of bodily thinges. And albeit so yt the qualities of bodies yt be object fro withoutfoorth, mouen and entalenten the instruments of the wits, and all be it so, yt the passion of the bodie, that is to saine, the wit, or the sufferaunce, goeth beforne the strength, or the worching courage, y• which passion or sufferaunce clepeth foorth y• deede of the thought in it selfe, and moueth and exciteth in this meane while the formes y• resten withinforth, and in sensible bodies, as I haue said, our courages nis not taught oremprinted by passion to know these things, but demeth & knoweth of his owne strength the passion or sufferance subject to the body: much more then tho things been absolute, and quicke fro all talents or affections of bodies, as God or his Angels, ne followen not in discerning thinges object fro [Page 405] without forth, but they accomplishen and speden the deeds of her thought. By this reason then there commen many manner of knowings, to diuerse and to differing substaunces.
For the wit of the bodie, the which wit is naked, and dispoiled of all other knowing, thilke wit commen to beastes, the which ne mowen not mouen hemselfe here and there, as Disters and Muskles, and other such shell-fish of the sea, that cleauen and been nourished to rocks: but the imaginacion commeth of remouable beasts, that seemen to haue talent to flien, or to desiren any thing: But reason is all onely the linage of mankind, right as intelligence is all onely the diuine nature, of which it followeth, that thilke knowing is more worth than is either, sens it knoweth by his proper nature, not only his subject, as who saith, it ne knoweth not all only that appertaineth properly to his knowing, but it knoweth the subjects of all other knowings. But how shall it then be, if that wit and imaginacion striuen ayen reasoning, and sayne, that of thilke vniuersall thing that reason weneth to seene, that it nis right naught, for wit and imaginacion sayne, that that is sensible or imaginable, it ne may not been vniuersall.
Then is there either the judgement of reason sooth, ne that there nis nothing sensible, or els for that reason wote well, that many thyngs ben subject to wit, and to imaginacion: then is the concepcion of reason vain and false, which that looketh and comprehendeth that that is sensible and singular, as vniuersall. And if that the reason would aunswere ayenst these two, that is to say, to wit and imaginacion, and say that soothly she her self, that is to sayne, reason, looketh and comprehendeth by reason of vniuersalitie both that that is sensible, and that that is imaginable, and thilke two, that is to saine, wit and imaginacion, ne mowen not stretchen hemselfe to the knowing of vniuersalitie, for that the knowing of hem ne may not exceeden ne surmounten the bodily figures. Certes, of the knowing of thyngs, men oughten rather yeuen more credence to the more stedfast, and to the more perfite judgement, in this manner striuing, then we that haue strength of reasoning, and of imaginacion, and of wit, that is to say, by reason and by imaginacion, we should rather praise the cause of reason, as who sayeth, than the cause of wit and of imaginacion. Semblable thing is it, that the reason of mankind ne weneth not, that the diuine intelligence beholdeth or knoweth thyngs to come, but right as the reason of mankind knoweth hem: For thou arguest thus, that if that it ne seeme not to men, that some things haue certaine betidings, they ne may not be wist, before certainely they betiden, and then is there no prescience of thilke thyngs, and if we trow, that prescience be in these thyngs, then is there nothing that betideth by necessitie. But if we might haue the judgement of the diuine thought, as we been partners of reason, right so as we haue demed, that it behoueth by imaginacion and wit, and beneath reason, right so would we deemen, that it were rightfull thyng, that mans reason ought to submit it selfe to be beneath the diuine thought, for which if we may, as who sayth, that if we may, I counsail, that we enhaunce vs in the height of thilke soueraine intelligence, for there shall reason well seene that, that it ne may not behold in it selfe: and certes, that is thus, in what manner the prescience of God seeth all things, and definisheth, although they haue no certain betidings: ne this is none opinion, but rather the simplicitie of the souerain science that is not shet within no manner of bounds.
Quam variis terras animalia permeant figuris. Namque alia extento sunt corpore, &c.
THe beasts passen by the earths by full divers figures, for some of hem haue her bodies straught, and crepen in the dust, and drawn after hem a trace, or a forough continued, that is to say, as Neders and Snails: and other beastes, by the wandering lightnesse of her wings, beaten the windes, and ouerswimmen the spaces of the long aire, by most flying.
And other beasts gladden hemself to diggen her traces or her steppes in the earth with her going, or with her feet, and to gone either by the greene fieldes, or els to walken vnder the woods. And all be it so, that thou seest, that they discorden by diuers formes, algates her faces enclined, heauieth her dull wits, only the linage of man heaueth highest his high head, and standeth light with his vpright body, and beholdeth the earths vnder him. And but if thou earthly man waxest euill out of thy wit, this figure amonesteth thee, that askest the heuen with thy right visage, and hast areised thy forehead, to bearen vp on high thy courage, so that thy thought ne be not heauied, ne put lowe vnder foot, sith that thy body is so high areised.
Quoniam igitur uti paulo ante monstratum est, omne quod scitur, &c.
THerefore then, as I haue shewed a little here beforne, that all thyng that is wist, nis not known by his nature proper, but by the nature of hem that comprehenden it. Let vs looken now, in as much as it is lefull to vs, as who saieth, let vs looken now as we may, which that is the estate of the Diuine substaunce, so that we may well know eke wt his science is. The common judgement of all creatures reasonables then is, that God is eterne. Let vs consider then what [Page 406] is eternity, for certes, that shall shewen vs togider the diuine nature, and the diuine science. Eternitie then is perfit possession, and all together of life interminable, and that sheweth the more clearely by the comparison or collacion of temporall thyngs.
For all things that liueth in time, it is present, and proceedeth fro preterities into futures, that is to sain, from time passed into time comming: ne there nis nothing established in time that may embracen togither all the space of this life, for certes, yet ne hath it not taken the time of to morrow, and it hath lost that of yesterday. And certes, in the life of this day ye ne liuen no more, but right as in this moouable and transitorie moment. Then thilke thing that suffereth temporall condicion, although that it neuer began to be, ne though it neuer cease to be, (as Aristotle demed of the world) and although the life of it be stretched with infinite of time, yet algates nis it no such thing, as men might trowen by right that it is eterne. For although that it comprehend and embrace the space of the life infinite, yet algates ne embraceth it not the space of the life altogither, for it ne hath not the futures that be not yet: Ne it ne hath no lenger the preterities that ben done or passed. But thilke thing then, that hath and comprehendeth togider all the plenty of the life interminable, to whom there ne fayleth nought of the future, and to whom there nis nought of the preteritie escaped or passed, thilke same is ywitnessed and prooved by right to ben etern. And it behoueth by necessitie, that thilk thing be alway present to himselfe, and competent: as who sayth, alway present to himselfe, and so mightie, that all be right at his pleasaunce, and that he haue all present the infinite of the moouable time. Wherefore some men trowen wrongfully, that when they heren that it seemed to Plato, that this world had neuer beginning of time, that it neuer shall haue fayling: they wene in thilke manner, that this world be maked eterne, with his maker, as who saith, they wene that this world and God be maked together eterne. And that is a wrongfull wening, for other thing it is to be lad by the life interminable, as Plato graunted to the world, and other thing it is to embrace togither all the presence of the life that is interminable, which thing is clere and manifest to the diuine thought. Ne it ne should not seeme to vs, that God is elder than things that been maked by quantitie of time, but rather by the prosperitie of his simple nature. For this ilk infinite mouings of temporall things followeth this presentarie estate of this life immouable, and so, as it ne may not countrefeten ne faine it, ne be euenlike to it for the immobilitie, that is to say, that is in the eternitie of God, it faileth and faileth into moouing fro the simplicitie of the presence of God, and disincreaseth in the infinite quantity of future and preterity. And so as it may not haue togider all the plentie of the life, algates yet for as much as it ceaseth neuer for to ben in some manner, yet it seemeth somedele to vs, that it followeth and resembleth thilke thing, that it ne may not attaine to, ne fulfillen, and bindeth it selfe to some manner presence of this little moment: the which presence of this little and swift moment, for that it beareth a manner image of likenesse of the aye dwelling of God, it graunteth to such manner thyngs, as it betideth to, that it semeth hem, as these thyngs haue ben, and ben. And for that the presence of such little moment ne may not dwell, therefore it ravished and tooke the infinite way of time, that is to say, by succession, and by this manere it is done, for that it should continue the life in going, of the which life it ne might not enbrace the plentie of dwelling. And for thy, if we wollen put worthie names to thyngs that followen Plato, let vs say then soothly, that God is eterne, and that the world is perpetuell. Then sith euery judgement knoweth and comprehendeth by his own nature, thyngs that been subject vnto him, there is to God alwayes an eterne and a presentarie estate. And the science of him that ouerpasseth all temporall moment, dwelleth in simplicitie of his presence, and embraceth and considereth all the infinite spaces of times preterities, and of times futures. And looketh in his simple knowing all thyngs of preteritie, right as they weren ydone presently right now. If thou wolt then thinken and aduise the prescience, by whych it knoweth all thyngs, thou ne shalt not deemen it as prescience of thyngs to commen, but thou shalt deemen more rightfully that is science of presence or of instance, that neuer ne fayleth, for whych it nis not ycleped prouidence, but it should rather been cleped purueyaunce, which is established full ferre fro right low thyngs, and beholdeth from aferre all thyngs, right as it were fro the hie height of thyngs. Why askest thou then, or why disputest thou then, that thilke thyngs been done by necessitie, whych that been yseene and yknown by the diuine sight? sith that forsooth men ne maken nat thilke thyngs necessarie, whych that they seene been ydone in her sight, for addeth thy beholding any necessitie to thilke thyngs whych thou beholdest present? Bo. Nay (qd. I.) Phi. Certes (qd. she) then, if men mighten maken any digne comparison or collacion of the presence diuine, and of the presence of mankinde, right so as ye seene some thyngs in this temporall presence, right so seeth God all thyngs by his eterne presence. Wherefore this diuine prescience ne chaungeth not the nature of the propertie of thyngs, but beholdeth such thyngs present to him ward, as they shoulden betiden to you ward in time to commen. [Page 407] Ne it ne confoundeth not the judgement of thyngs, but by one sight of his thought, he knoweth the thyngs to commen, as well necessary as not necessary. Right so when ye seene together a man walke on the earth, and the sunne arisen in the heuen, all be it so, that ye seene all together that one and that other: yet neuerthelesse wee deemen and discernen, that that one is voluntary, and that other is necessary: Right so then the deuine looking, beholding all things vnder him, ne troubleth nat the qualitie of thyngs that been certainly present to him ward, but as to the condicion of time, forsooth they ben future, for which it followeth, that this nis none opinion, but rather a stedfast knowing ystrengthned by soothnesse, that when that God knoweth any thyng to he, he ne vnwote nat that thilk thyng wanteth necessitie to be, this is to sayne, that when that God knoweth any thing to betide, hee wote well that it ne hath no necessity to betide. And if thou seest here, that thilke thyng that God seeth to betide, it ne may nat vnbetide, as who sayeth it more betide, and thilke thyng that ne may nat vnbetide, it more betiden by necessity, and that thou strein me to this name of the necessity: Certes I will well confessen and beknowen a thing of full sad trouth, but vnneth shall there any wight now seene it, or come thereto, but if that he be beholder of the divine thought, for I will answere thee thus, * That thilke thyng that is future, when it is referred to the diuine knowing, then it is necessary. But certes, when it is vnderstanden in his owne kind, men seene it vtterly free and absolute fro all necessities. For certes there ben two manners of necessities, that one necessity is simple, that it behoueth by necessity, that all men be mortall or deadly: another necessity is condicionell, as thus, if thou wost that a man walketh, it behoueth by necessity that he walke, thilke thing then that any wight hath iknow to be, it ne may nat be none otherwise than he knoweth it to be. But this condicion ne draweth not with her thilke necessity simple, for certes, this necessity condicionell, the proper nature of it ne maketh it nat, but the adjection of the condicion maketh it. For no necessity ne constrayneth a man to gone, that goth by his proper will, all be it so, that when he goth, that is necessary that he goeth. Right on this same manner then, if that the purueyaunce of God seeth any thyng present, then mote thilk thing been by necessity, although that it ne haue no necessity of his owne nature. * But certes, the futures that betiden by freedome of arbitry, God seeth hem all togider present. These thyngs then if they been referred to the diuine sight, then been they maked necessary by the condicion of the diuine knowing. But certes, if thilke thyngs been considered by hemselfe, they been absolute of necessity, and ne for [...]eten not, ne ceasen not of the liberty of her owne nature. Then certes, without doubt, all the thyngs shulien been done, which that God wo [...]e beforne, that they ben to commen and betiden of free arbitry, or of free will, that all be it so that they betiden, yet algates ne lese they not her proper nature in being, by the which, first or they weren done, they hadden power not to haue betidde. Boetius. What is this to sayne then (qd. I) that thyngs ne be not necessary by her proper nature, so that they commen in all her manners in the likenesse of necessity, by condicion of the diuine science? Philosophy. This is the difference (qd. she) that tho thyngs, which that I purposed thee a little here beforn, that is to same, Sunne arising, and the man walking, that there whiles that thilke thyngs been done, they ne might not been vndone: Nathelesse, that one of hem or it was done, it behoueth by necessity that it was done, but not that other. Right so it is here, that the thyngs which that God hath present, withouten doubt they shullen been, but some of hem discendeth of the nature of thyngs, as the Sunne arising, and some discendeth of the power of the doers, as the man walking. Boetius. Then said I no wrong, that if these thynges bee referred to the diuine knowing, then been they necessary, and if they been considered by hemself, then been they absolute fro the bonde of necessity. Right so as all thyngs that appereth or sheweth to the wits, if thou referre hem to reason, it is vniuersall, and if thou looke it or referre it to it selfe, then is it singular. But now if thou saist thus, that if that it be in my power to chaungen my purpose, then shall I voiden the purueyaunce of God, when peraduenture I shall haue chaunged the thyngs which that he knoweth beforne. Philosophy. Then shall I answeren thee thus: Certes, thou maist well chaunge thy purpose, but for as much as the present soothnesse of the diuine purueyaunce beholdeth that thou maist chaunge thy purpose, and whether thou chaunge it or no, and whiderward that thou tourne it, thou ne maist not eschew the diuine prescience, right so thou ne maist not flid the sight of the present eye, although that thou tourne thy selfe by thy free will into diuers actions. But thou maist sayne ayen to this, thus: How shall it then be, shall not the diuine science ben chaunged by my disposicion, when that I will one thyng now, and now another thyng? And thilke prescience ne see meth it not to enterchaunge stounds of knowing, as who saith, ne shall it not seemen to vs, that the diuine prescience enterchaungeth his diuers stounds of knowing, so that it know sometime one thyng, and sometime it knoweth the contrary of that thing? Philosophy. No forsooth (qd. she) for the diuine sight renneth beforne and seeth all the futures, and [Page 408] clepeth hem ayen, and retourneth hem to the proper prescience of his proper knowing, ne he enterchaungeth not, so as thou wenest, the stounds of his foreknowing, as now this, now that: but he dwelling aye commeth beforn, and embraceth at o stroke all the mutacions. And this prescience to comprehenden and to seen all thyngs, God ne hath not taken it of the betidings of thyngs to commen, but of his proper simplicity. And hereby is assoiled thilke thyngs that thou puttest a little here beforne, that is to sayne, that it is vnworthy thyng to sayne, that our futures yeven cause of the prescience of God. For certes, strength of the diuine science, which that embraceth all thyngs by his presentary knowing, establisheth manner to all thyngs, and it ne oweth not to latter thyngs. And sith that these thyngs ben thus, that is to sain, that necessity is not in thyngs by the diuine prescience, then is there freedome of arbitry, that dwelleth hole and vnwemmed to mortal men, ne the laws ne purposen not wicked medes and pains to the willings of men, that ben vnbounden and quite of all necessity: * And God beholder and foreweter of all thyngs dwelleth aboue, and the present eternity of sight renneth alway with the diuers quality of our deeds, dispensing or ordeining medes to good men, and tourments to wicked men. Ne in idle ne in vain ne been there not put in God hope and prayers, that ne mowen not been vnspeedfull, ne without effect, when they ben rightfull.
* Withstand then and eschew thou vices, worship and love thou vertues, areise thy courage to rightfull hopes, yeeld thou humble prayers and high. Great necessity of prowesse and of vertue is encharged and commaunded to you, if ye nill not dissimulen, sith that ye worchen and done, that is to saine, your deeds and your werks beforne the eyen of the judge, that seeth and also that demeth all thyngs. Deo gratias.
The Book commonly entituled, Chaucer's Dream.
By the Person of a mourning Knight sitting under an Oak, is meant John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, greatly lamenting the death of one whom he entirely loved, supposed to be Blanch the Dutchess.
The Assembly of Fowls.
All Fowls are gathered before Nature on S. Valentines day, to chose their makes. A Formell Eagle, being belov'd of three Tercels, requireth a years respite to make her choice: upon this trial, Qui bien aime tard oublie. He that loveth well, is slow to forget.
The Floure of Courtesie.
In this Book is set forth the rare vertues of a certain Lady. Made by John Lidgate, as some think, in the behalf of some Gentlewoman in the Court.
¶Ballade simple.
¶Lenuoye.
La belle Dame sans Mercie.
M. Aleyn, Secretary to the King of France, framed this Dialogue between a Gentleman and a Gentlewoman, who finding no mercy at her hand, dieth for sorrow.
Lenuoy.
Of Queen Annelida and false Arcite.
Arcite a Theban Knight, forsaketh Queen Annelida, who loved him intirely, and taketh a new Lady: whereupon Annelida maketh this great complaint.
The complaint of Annelida to false Arcite.
The Assembly of Ladies.
A Gentlewoman dreameth that she seeth a great number of Ladies put up their Bills of Complaint before a Judge, who promiseth to relieve their Grievances.
Discrecion, Purueiour.
Acquaintance, Herbyger.
Countenaunce, Porter.
Largesse, Steward.
Remembraunce chamberlaine.
The Conclusions of the Astrolabie.
This Book (written to his Son in the year of our Lord 1391, and in the 14th of King Richard 2.) standeth so good at this day, especially for the Horizon of Oxford, as in the opinion of the Learned, it cannot be amended.
LIttle Lowis my sonne, I perceiue well by certaine euidences, thine abilitie to learne sciences, touching numbers and proportions, and also well consider I thy busie prayer in especiall to learne the Treatise of the Astrolabie. Then for as much as a Philosopher saith, hee wrapeth him in his friend, that condiscendeth to the rightfull prayers of his friend: Therefore I haue giuen thee a sufficient Astrolabie for our orizont, compouned after the latitude of Oxenford: Vpon the which, by mediation of this little Treatise, I purpose to teach thee a certaine number of conclusions pertayning to this same instrument. I say a certaine of conclusions, for three causes, the first cause is this: Trust well, that all the conclusions that haue be founden, or els possibly might be found in so noble an instrument as is the Astrolabie, ben vnknowen perfitly to any mortall man in this region, as I suppose. Another cause is this, that [Page 446] soothly in any carts of the Astrolabie that I haue yseene, there ben some conclusions, that woll not in all thyngs perfourme her behests: and some of hem beene too hard to thy tender age of ten yeare to conceiue. This Treatise deuided in fiue parts, will I shewe the woonder light rules and naked words in English, for Latine ne canst thou nat yet but smale, my little sonne. But neuerthelesse, suffiseth to thee these true conclusions in English, as well as suffiseth to this noble clerkes, Greekes, these same conclusions in Greeke, and to the Arabines in Arabike, and to Iewes in Hebrewe, and to the Latin folk in Latine: which Latin folke had hem first out of other diuers languages, and writ hem in her owne tongue, that is to saine, in Latine.
And God wote that in all these languages, and in many mo, haue these conclusions been sufficiently learned and taught, and yet by diuers rules, * Right as diuers pathes leaden diuers folke the right way to Rome.
Now woll I pray meekely euery person discreet, that redeth or heareth this little Treatise, to haue my rude ententing excused, and my superfluitie of words, for two causes: The first cause is, for that curious enditing, and hard sentences, is full heauy at ones for such a child to learne: And the second cause is this, that sothly, me semeth better to writen vnto a child twice a good sentence, than he foryete it once. And Lowis, if it so be that I shew thee in my lith English, as true conclusions touching this matter, and not only as true, but as many and subtill conclusions, as ben yshewed in Latine, in any common Treatise of the Astrolabie, conne mee the more thanke, and pray God saue the king, that is lord of this language, and all that him faith beareth, and obeyeth, eueriche in his degree, the more and the lasse. But considereth well, that I ne vsurpe not to haue founden this werke of my labour or of mine engine: I nam but a leaud compilatour of the labour of olde Astrologiens, and haue it translated in mine English, only for thy doctrine: and with this swerde shall I sleen enuie.
The first Party.
THe first party of this Treatise shall rehearse the figures, and the members of thine Astrolabie, because that thou shalt haue the greater knowing of thine owne instrument.
The second Party.
THe second party shall teach thee to werken the very practike of the foresaid conclusions, as ferre forth, and also narrow, as may bee shewed in so small an instrument portatife about. For well wote euery Astrologien, that smallest fractions ne woll not bee shewed in so small an instrument, as in subtill tables, calculed for a cause.
The third Party.
THe third party shall contayne diuers tables of longitudes and latitudes of sterres, fixe in the Astrolabie. And tables of the declinations of the Sun, and tables of the longitude of citties and townes: and tables, as well for the gouernation of the clocke, as for to finde the altitude meridian, and many another notable conclusion, after the kalenders of the reuerent clerks, Frere Iohn Som, and Frere N. Lenne.
The fourth Party.
THe fourth party shall be a theorike, to declare the meaning of the celestiall bodies, with the causes, the which the fourth party in speciall shall shew in a table of the very meuing of the moone, from one to one, euery day and euery signe, after thine almanacke. Vpon the which table, there followeth a canon, sufficient to teach, as well in manner of working in the same conclusions, as to know in our Horizont, with which degree of Zodiake the moone ariseth in any latitude, and the arising in any plannet after his latitude fro the eclipticke line.
The fifth Party.
THe fift party shall been an introductorie, after the statutes of our doctors, on which, thou mayest learne a great part of the generall rules of theorike in Astrologie. In which fift party, thou shalt find tables of equacions of houses, after the latitude of Oxenford, and tables of dignities of plannets, and other notefull things, if God vouchsafe, and his mother the maiden, mo than I behete.
The Ring.
THy Astrolabie hath a ringe to putten on thy thombe, on thy right honde, in taking of the height of thynges. And take keepe, from hence forward I woll clepe the height of heauie thing that is take by the rule, the altitude, withouten mo words.
The Turet.
THis ring ronneth in a manner of a turet, fastened to the moder of thine Astrolabie, in a roume or space, that it distroubeleth not the instrument to hangen after his right centure. The moder of thine Astrolabie, is thickest by the brinkes, that is, the vtmost ring with degrees: and all the middle within the ring, shall bee thinner, to receiue the plates for diuers clymates, and also for the rethe, that is shape in manner of a net, or els after the webbe of a loppe.
The Moder.
THe moder of thine Astrolabie, is the thickest plate, pierced with a large hole, that receiueth in her wombe the thinne plates, compowned of diuers clymates, and thy rethe shapen in manner of a net, or of a webbe of a loppe.
Of the four Lines.
THis moder is deuided on the backe halfe with a line, that commeth discending fro the ring downe to the netherest bordure, the which line, fro the foresaid ring vnto the centre of the large hole amidde, is cleaped the South line, or els the line Meridionall: and the remenaunt of this line, downe to the bordure, is cleaped the North line, or all the line of the Midnight.
Of four Lines, East, West, North, and South.
OVerthwart this foresaid long line, there crosseth him another line of the same length, fro East to West, of the which line, from a little crosse in the bordure, vnto the centure of the large hole, is cleaped the East line, or els the line Orientall: and the remenaunt of the line, fro the foresaid Orientall vnto the bordure, is ycleaped the West line, or the line Occidentall.
Now hast thou here the foure quarters of thine Astrolabie, deuided after the foure principall plages or quarters of the firmament.
Which is the right side, and which is the left.
THe East side of the Astrolabie is cleaped the right side, and the West side is cleaped the lefte side. Foryet not this little Lowis. Put the ringe of thine Astrolabie vpon the thombe of thy right hand, and then woll his right side be toward thy left side, and his left side woll be toward thy right side. Take this rule generall, as well on the backe, as on the wombe side. Vpon the ende of this East line (as I first said) is ymarked a little crosse, where as euermore generally is considered the entering of the East degree, in the which the Sunne ariseth.
The degrees fro the East line to the South.
FRo the little crosse, vp to the end of the Meridionall line, vnder the ring shalt thou finde the bordure, deuided with xc. degrees, and by that same proportion is euery quarter of thine Astrolabie deuided, ouer the which degrees, there beene numbers of Augrime, that deuiden thilke same degrees fro fiue to fiue, as sheweth by long strikes betweene, of the which, by long strikes, the space betweene conteineth a mile way, and euery degree of thilke bordure conteineth foure minutes, that is to say, foure minutes of an houre.
Of the twelve Signs, Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, and the others.
UNder the compasse of thilke degrees been written the names of the twelue signes, as Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius, Capricornus, Aquarius, and Pisces. And the nombers of the degrees of the signes been written in Augrime aboue, and with long diuisions, from fiue to fiue, deuideth from the time that the signe entereth vnto the last end. But vnderstand well, that these degrees of signes been eueriche of hem considered of fortie minutes, and euery minute of fortie seconds, and so foorth into small fractions infinite, as saith Alcabucius. And therefore know well, that a degree of the bordure containeth foure minutes, and a degree of a signe containeth fortie minutes, and haue this in mind.
The Cercle of the Days.
NExt this followeth the cercle of the daies, that been figured in manner of the degrees, that conteinen in number three hundred threescore and fiue, deuided also with long strikes, from fiue to fiue, and the numbers of Augrime written vnder the cercle.
The Cercle of the twelve Months.
NExt the cercle of dayes, followeth the cercle of the twelue names of the months, that is to say, Ianuarius, Februarius, Marcius, Aprill, Maius, Iunius, Iulius, August, September, October, Nouember, December.
The names of these Months taken her names, some for properties, and some by statutes of Emperors, and some by other Lords of Rome. Eke of these Months, as liked to Iulius Cesar, and Cesar Augustus, some were ycompouned of diuers nombers of days, as Iulie and August. Then hath Ianuarius xxxi. days, Februarius xxviii. Marcius xxxi. Aprill xxx. Maius xxxi. Iunius xxx. Iulius xxxi. August xxxi. September xxx. October xxxi. Nouember xxx. December xxxi. Nathelesse, although that Iulius Cesar took two dayes out of Feuerere, and put hem in his Month of Iuly, and Augustus Cesar cleped the Month of August after his name, and ordained it of xxxi. days: yet trust well, that the Sunne dwelleth therefore neuer the more, ne the lasse, in one signe than in another.
The Names of the holy days.
THen followeth the names of the holye dayes in the Kalender, and next hem the letters, A. B. C. on which they fallen.
The Scale of the Astrolabie.
NExt the foresaid cercle of the A. B. C. vnder the crosse line is marked the scale, in manner of two squires, or els in manner of ledders, that serueth by his xxii. points, and his diuisions of full many a subtell conclusion of this foresaid scale: For the crosse line vnto the very angle, is cleaped Umbra recta, or els Umbra extensa, and the nether party Umbra versa.
The Rule.
THen hast thou a broad rule, that hath on euery ende a square plate, parted with certaine holes, some more, and some lesse, to receiuen the stremes of the Sunne by day, and eke by mediation of thine eye, to know the altitude of the sterres by night.
The Pin, which is imagined to be Pole artike, and the Horse.
THen is there a large pin, in manner of an exiltre, that goeth through the hole that halt the tables of the climathes in the reeth, in the wombe of the moder, thorow which pin there goeth a little wedge, the which is cleped the Horse, that straineth all these parts together. This foresaid great pin, in manner of an exiltre, is imagined to be the Pole artike in thine Astrolabie.
For lines on the Womb side.
THe wombe side of thine Astrolabie is also diuided with a long crosse in foure quarters, from the Cast to West, and from the South to North, from right side to left side, as is the backside.
The degrees of the Womb side.
THe border of which wombe side is deuided fro the point of the East line vnto the point of the South line, vnder the ring, in 90 degrees, and by the same proportion is euery quarter diuided, as is the backeside, that amounteth to 360 degrees. And vnderstand well, that the degrees of this border, been aunswering and consenting to the degrees of Equinoctiall, that is deuided in the same number, as euery other cercle is in the high heauen.
This border is deuided also with 23 letters, and a small crosse aboue the South line, that sheweth the 24 houres equals of the clocke. And I haue said, fiue of these degrees maken a mile way, and three mile way maken an houre, and euery degree of this border containeth 4 minutes, and euery minute 40 seconds. Now haue I told thee twice, and for the more declaration.
Of the principal Cercles.
THe plate vnder the reete, is discriued with three Cercles, of which, the least is cleaped the Cercle of Cancer, because that the head of Cancer tourneth euermore concentrike vpon the same Cercle. In this half of Cancer is the greatest declination Northward of the Sunne, and therefore is he ycleped Solsticium of Summer, which declination, after the Ptholome, is 23 degrees, and 50 minutes, as well in Cancer, as in Capricorne. This signe of Cancer is cleped the Tropick of Summer, of Tropos, that is to saine, ayenward. The middle cercle in widenesse of this three, is cleaped the cercle Equinoctiall, vpon which tourneth euermore the heads of Aries and Libra. And vnderstande well, that euermore this cercle Equinoctiall tourneth justly fro very East to very West, as I haue shewed in the sphere solid. This same cercle is cleaped also the wayer of the day: For when the Sunne is in the head of Aries and Libra, then been days and nights like of length in all the world, and therefore been these two signes called Equinoctis. And all that mooueth within these heads of Aries and Libra, is ycalled Northward: and all that mooueth without these heads, his meuing is cleped Southward: as for the Equinoctiall, take kepe of the latitudes, North and South, and forget it not: by this cercle Equinoctiall, been considered the 24 hours of the clock. For euermore, the arising of 15 degrees of the Equinoctiall, maketh an hour equall of the clock. This Equinoctiall is cleped the mid way of the first meuing, or els of the Sunne. And note, that the first meuing is cleped meuing of the first mouable of the eighth Sphere, which meuing is fro East to West, and again into East. Also it is cleped girdle of the first meuing; For it departeth the first meuable, that is to sain, the sphere in two like parties, euen distant fro the Poles of this world. The widest of these three cercles principall, is cleped the cercle of Capricorn, and tourneth euermore concentrike vpon the same cercle. In the head of this foresaid Capricorn is the greatest declination Southward of the Sun: and therefore it is cleped Solsticium of Winter. This signe of Capricorn is also cleped the Tropick of Winter. For then beginneth the Sun to come again to vs ward.
Of the Almicanteras, the signet, and what is thine Orizont.
UPon this foresaid plate been compassed certain cercles, that highten almicanteras: of which some of hem seemen parfit cercles, and some seemen imparfit. The centure that standeth amidst the narrowest cercle, is cleped the signet. And the netherest cercle, that deuideth the two emisperies, that is the party of the heuen aboue the earth, and the party beneath. These almicanteras been compouned by two and two, all be it so, that on diuers Astrolabies, some almicanteras been deuided by one, and some by two, and some by three, after the quantity of the Astrolabie. This foresaid signet is imagined to be the very point ouer the croune of thy head, and also this signet is the very pole of the orizont in euery region.
What been thine Azimutes.
FRom this signet (as it seemeth) there commen crooked strikes, like to the clawes of a loppe, or els like to the werke of a womans calle, in keruing ouerthwart the almicanteras, and these same strikes or diuisions been cleped Azimutes, and they [Page 449] deuiden the Orizonts on thine Astrolaby in 24 diuisions. And these Azimutes serue to know the costes of the firmament, and to other conclusions, as for to know the signet of the Sunne, and of euery Sterre.
Of the Twelve Hours of the Planets.
NExt these Azimutes, vnder the cercle of Cancer, been the twelve divisions embolite, much like to the shape of the Azimutes, that shewen the spaces of the hours of Planets.
Thy Reete, or else thy Zodiake.
THy Reete of thine Astrolabye, which is thy Zodiake, shapen in manner of a nette, or of a lop webbe, after the old description, which thou mayest tourne up and doune as thy self liketh, containeth certaine number of Sterres fire, with her longitudes and latitudes determinate, if so be that the maker have not erred. The names of the Sterres ben written in the margine of thy Reete, there they sit, of the whych Sterres, the small point is cleaped the Centure. And vnderstande, that all the Sterres sitting within the Zodiake of thine Astrolaby, ben cleped Sterres of the North, for they arisen by the North-east line, and all the remenaunt fixed out of the Zodiake, ben ycleped Sterres of the South, but I say not that they arisen all by the South-east line, witnesse of Aldeberan, and also Algomisa.
Generally vnderstond this rule, that thilke sterres that ben cleaped sterres of the North, arisen rather than the degree of her longitude, and all the sterres of the South arisen after the degree of her longitude, that is to sayne, sterres in thine Astrolaby.
The measure of longitude of sterres, ytaken in the line ecliptick of heaven, vnder the which line, when the Sunne and the Moone been line right, els in the superficie of this line, then is the eclipse of the Sunne or of the Moone, as I shall declare, and eke the cause why: but soothly, the ecliptick line of the Zodiake, is the vtterest bordure of the Zodiake, there thy degrees ben marked. The Zodiake of thy Astrolabye is shapen as a Compasse, which that contayneth a large brede, as after the quantity of thy Astrolaby, in ensample, that the Zodiake of heauen is imagined to be a superficies, containing the latitude of twelue signes, whereas all the remenaunt of the cercles in heauen ben imagined very lines, without any latitude, amiddes the celestial Zodiake is imagined a line, whyche that is cleped the Eclipticke line, vnder the whych line is euermore the way of the Sunne. Thus ben there six degrees of the Zodiake on that one side of the line, and sixe degrees on that other. The Zodiake is deuided in twelve principal diuisions, that departen the twelue signes, and for the straitnesse of thine Astrolabye, then is every small division in a signe yparted by two degrees and two, I mean degrees containing sixty Minutes, and this foresayd heauenish Zodiake is cleaped the circle of the Signes, or the circle of beastes. For Zodiake in language of Greke, souneth beasts in Latine tongue, and in the Zodiake been the twelue Signes, that haue names of beasts, because when the Sunne entreth in any of the Signes, he taketh the property of such beasts, or else for that the sterres that been there, ben fixed, been disposed in signe of beasts, or shape like beasts, or else when Planets ben under the Signes, they transmue vs by her influence, operations and effects, like to operations of beasts. And understand also, that when any hote Planet cometh into an hote Signe, then entereth his heat, and if a Planet be cold, then amenuseth his coldnesse, because of the hote Signe. And by this conclusion mayest thou taken ensample in all Signes, be they moist or dry, moueable or fixe, reckening the quality of the Planets, as I first said. And euerich of these twelue Signes hath respect to a certain parcel of the Body of a man, and hath it in gouernaunce: as Aries hath thine head, and Taurus thy neck and thy throte, Gemini thine arm holes and thine arms, and so forth, as shall be shewed more plainly in the fift party of this Treatise. The Zodiake, the which is party of the eight Sphere, ouerkerueth the equinoctiall, and he ouerkerueth him again in euen parts, and that one half declineth Southward, and that other Northward, as plainely declareth the Treatise of the Sphere.
The Labell.
THen hast thou a Labell, that is shapen like a Rule, saue that it is strait, and hath no plates on either end, but with the small point of the foresaid labell shalt thou calcule the equacions in the bordure of thine Astrolaby, as by thine almury.
The Almury, the denticle of Capricorne, or else the calculere.
THine Almury is cleped the denticle of Capricorne, or else the calculere, this same almury set fixe in the head of Capricorne, and it serueth of many a necessary conclusion in equacion of things, as shall be shewed.
Here beginneth the Conclusions of thine Astrolaby, to find the degree in the which the Sun is day by day, after his course about.
REcken and know which is the day of the Moneth, and lay thy rule upon the same day, and then woll the very point of thy rule verely sitten on the bordure, upon the degree of the Sunne. Ensample as thus. In the yere of our Lord 1391, the twelfth day of March at midday, I would know the degree of the Sunne, I sought in [Page 450] the backe halfe of mine Astrolaby, and found the circle of the dayes, the whych I knew by the names of the Months, written vnder the same Circle: Tho laid I my Rule over the foresaid day, and found the point of my Rule in the border, vpon the first degree of Aries, a litle within the degree: and thus knew I this conclusion.
Another day I would knowe the degree of my Sunne, and this was at Midday in the xiii. day of December, I founde the day of the moneth in manner as I said: tho laid I my Rule vpon the foresaid xiii. day, and founde the poynt of my Rule vpon the first degree of Capricorne, a little within the degree, and then had I of this conclusion the very experience.
To know the altitude of the Sun, either of celestiall bodies.
PVT the ring of thyne Astrolabye vpon thy right thombe, and tourne thy left side againe the light of the Sunne, and remeve thy Rule vp and downe, till the streame of the Sunne shine through both holes of the Rule: looke then howe many degrees this Rule is areised fro the litle crosse vpon the East line, and take there the altitude of thy sunne: and in this same wise mayst thou knowe by night the altitude of the Moone, or of the bright sterres. This Chapiter is so generall ever in one, that there needeth no more declaration, but forget it not.
To know the degree of the Sun, and of thy Zodiake, by the days in the backside of thine Astrolabie.
THen if thou wilt wete the reckening, to know which is the day in thy Kalender of the month that thou art in, lay thine Astrolabie, that is to say, the allidatha, vpon the day in the Kalender of thine Astrolabie, and he shall shew thee thy degree of ye Sunne.
To know every time of the day, by light of the Sun, and every time of the night by the Stars fixe, and eke to know by night or by day the degree of the Sign that ascendeth on the East Orizont, which is cleped commonly ascendent.
TAke the altitude of the Sunne when thee list, as I have sayd, and set the degree of the Sunne (in [...]case that it be before the middle of the day) amonge thyne almicanteras, on the Easte-side of thine Astrolabie: and if it be after the middle of the day, set the degree of the Sun vpon the West-side. Take this manner of setting for a generall rule ones for ever.
And when thou hast yset the degree of the Sun vpon as many almicanteras of height, as was the Sunne, taken by thy rule, lay over thy Labell vpon the degree of the Sunne, & then woll the point of the Labell sitten in the bordure, vpon the very tide of the day. Ensample of this.
The yeare of our Lorde, a thousand three hundred ninety and one, the twelfth daye of March, I would know the tide of the day, I tooke y• altitude of my Sunne, and found that it was 25 degrees, and 30 Minutes of height of the bordure in the backside, tho tourned I mine Astrolabye, and because it was before midday, I tourned my reete, & set the degree of the Sunne, yt is to say, the first degree of Aries in the right side of mine Astrolabie, vpon the 25 degree, and 30 minutes of heyght, among my almicanteras: Tho laid I my Labell vpon the degree of my Sunne, and found the point of my Labell in the bordure, on the capitall letter, yt is cleped an X. Tho reckened I all the capitall letters, fro ye line of Midnight, vnto the foresaid letter X. and found it was nine of the Clocke of the day. Tho looked I over my East Orizont, and found there the twelue degree of Geminius ascending, which that I tooke for mine ascendent, and in this wise had I the experience for evermore in whych manner I should knowe the tide of the day, and eke myne ascendent. Tho would I wete that same night following the houre of the night, and wrought in this wise: among an heape of Sterres, it lyked me to take the altitude of the fayre white Sterre that is cleped the Alhabor, & found her sitting on the West-side of ye line of Midday, eighteene degrees of height, taken by my Rule on the backside. Tho set I y• Centure of this Alhabor vpon eighteene degrees, among my almicanteras, vpon the West-side, because that hee was found vpon the West-side: tho laid I my Labell over the degree of the Sun, that was discended vnder the West Orizont, and reckened all the letters capitals, fro the line of Midday vnto ye point of my Labell in the bordure, and found yt it was after noon, passed seven of the clocke, the space of eleven degrees. Tho looked I downe vpon my East Orizont, and found there twenty degrees of Libra ascending, whom I tooke for myne ascendent, and thus learned ones for ever to know in which manner I should come to the houre of the night, and to mine ascendent, as verely as may be taken by so smale an instrument. But nathelesse, this rule in generall wil I warne thee for ever: ne make thou never none ascendent at noone of the day. Take a just ascendent of thine Astrolabie, and have set justly a cloke, when any celestiall body, by the which thou wenest governe thilke thynges, been nigh the South line, for trust well, when the Sunne is neare ye Meridionall line, the degree of the Sunne remayneth so long concentrike vpon thine almicanteras that soothly thou shalt erre fro the just ascendent. The same conclusion say I, by my centure of my Sterre fix by the night: and moreover, by experience I wote well, that fro our Orizont, fro enleven of the clocke, vnto one, in taking of [Page 451] the just ascendent, in a portatife Astrolabie, it is too hard to know, I mean from eleuen of the clocke before noon, till one of the clocke next following: and for the more declaration, loe here thy figure next after this rule that followeth.
To know the degree of the Sun in thy Zodiake, by the days, in the backside of thine Astrolabie.
THen thou wolt weten, to recken & know which is the day of the month yt thou art in, and lay ye rule of thy Astrolabie, that is to say, the allidatha, vpon the day, in the Kalender of thine Astrolabie, and hee shall shewe thee thy degree of the Sunne.
Speciall declaration of the Ascendent.
THe ascendent soothly is as well in all nativities, as in questions, and as in elections of times is a thing whyche yt these Astrologians greatly observen, wherfore me seemeth convenient, sens I speake of the ascendent, to make of it a speciall declaration. The ascendent soothly, to take it at the largest, is thilke degree that ascendeth at any of these foresaid times, on the East Orizon: and therfore, if that any Planet ascend at thilke same time in ye foresaid same, gree of his longitude, men say that thilke Planet is in Horoscopo, but soothly, the house of that ascendent, that is to say, the first house, or y• East angle, is a thing more broad and large, for after the statutes of Astrologiens, what celestial body, that is five degrees aboue thilke degree that ascendeth on the Orizont, or within that number, that is to saine, nere the degree that ascendeth, yet reckon they thilke Planet in the ascendent, and what Planet that is under thilke degree, that ascendeth the space of fifteen degrees, yet sain they, that Planet is like to him, that is the hour of the ascendent. But soothly, if he passe the bounds of the foresaid spaces, aboue or beneath, they sayne, y• thilke Planet is falling fro the Ascendent, yet sayne these Astrologiens, that the Ascendent, and eke the Lord of the Ascendent, may be shapen for to be fortunate, or infortunate, as thus: A fortunate Asecendent clepen they, when that no wicked Planet of Saturne or Mars, or els the taile of the Dragon, is in the house of the Ascendent, ne that no wicked Plannet have no aspect of enmity vpon the Ascendent: But they woll cast, yt they have fortunate Planet in her Ascendent, and yet in his felicity, and then say they that it is well. Furthermore, they sayne, that Fortune of an Ascendent, is the contrary of these foresaid thyngs. The Lord of the Ascendent, sayne they, yt he is fortunate, when he is in good place for the Ascendent, and eke the Lord of the Ascendent is in an angle, or in a succedent, where he is in his dignity, and comforted with friendly aspectes receyued, and eke that he may seene y• Ascendent not retrograde, ne combust, ne joyned with no shrewe in the same signe, ne that he be not in his discention, ne reigned with no Planet in his discentious, ne have vpon him none aspect infortunate, and then they sayne that he is well.
Nathelesse, these been observaunces of judiciall matter, and rites of Painims, in which my spirit hath no fayth, ne knowinge of her Horoscopum, for they sayne, that every signe is departed in three even parts, by 10 degrees, and the ilke portion they cleapen a face. And although a Plannet have a latitude fro the Ecliptike, yet sain some folke, so that y• Planet arise in that same signe, with any degree of the foresaid face, in which his longitude is reckened. And yet is the Planet in Horoscopo, be in nativities or in election
To know the very equacion of the degrees of the Sun, if it so be that it fall betwixt two almicanteras.
FOr as much as the almicanteras of thine Astrolaby ben compowned by two and two, whereas some almicanteras in some Astrolabies be compouned by one, or else by two, it is necessary to thy learning, to teach thee first to know, and wriche with thine instrument: wherefore, when that the degree of the Sunne falleth between two almicanteras, or else, if thine almicanteras ben grauen with ouer great a point of a Compace, for both these things may cause errour, as well in knowing of the tide of the day, as of the very ascendent. Thou must werken in this wise: set the degree of the Sunne vpon the higher almicanteras, as of both. And wait wel where thy almury toucheth the bordure, & set there a pricke of ynke, set adoune again the degree of the Sunne vpon the nether almicanteras, or both, and set there another pricke: remeve then thy almury in y• bordure, even amiddes both prickes, and this woll leaden justly the degree of the Sunne, to sit betweene both ye almicanteras in his right place. Lay then the labell on the degree of the Sunne & find in the bordure the very tide of the day, or of the night. And also verely shalt thou find vpon thy East orizont thine ascendent.
To know the spring of the dawning, and the end of the evening, the which been cleaped the two coepusculis.
SEt the nadyre of thy Sunne vpon 18 degrees of height among thine almicanteras on the West-side, and lay thy labell on the degree of the Sunne, and then shall the point of the labell shew the spring of the day: also set the nadire of the Sunne vpon the 18 degrees of height among thine almicanteras on the East-side, and lay over thy labell vpon the degree of the Sunne and with the poynt of thy labell find in ye bordure the end of thine evening, that is very night. The nadire of ye Sonne is thilke degree that is opposite to y• degree of the Sunne in the 320. sign, as thus. [Page 452] Euery degree of Aries, by order, is nadire to euery degree of Libra by order, & Taurus to Scorpion, Gemini to Sagitarius, Cancer to Capricorne, Leo to Aquary, Virgo to Pisces. And if any degree in thy Zodiake be derke, his nadire shall declare him.
To know the Arch of the Day, that some folk callen the Day artificial, fro the Sun rising, till it go down.
SEtte the degree of the Sunne upon thine East orizont, and lay thy labell on the degree of the Sunne, and at the point of thy labell in the bordure set a pricke; turn then thy reete about, till the degree of the Sun sit upon the West orizont, and lay the labell upon the same degree of the Sunne, and at the point of the labell set another pricke. Recken then the quantitie of time in the bordure betwixt both prickes, and take there thine arche of the day: the remenaunt of the bordure under the orizont, is the arch of the night. Thus maist thou reckon both arches of euery portion where that thou likest, and by this manner of werkyng mayest thou see howe long that any sterre fixe dwelleth aboue the earth, fro the time that he riseth, till he go to rest. But the day naturel, that is to sayne, 24 houres, is the reuolution of the Equinoctial, with as much partye of the Zodiake, as the Sunne of his proper mouing passeth in the mean while.
To turn the hours inequals, and the hours equals.
TO know the number of the degrees in the hours inequals, and depart hem by 15, and take there thine houres equals.
To know the quantity of the day vulgare, that is to say, fro spring of the day unto the very Night.
KNow thy quantitie of thyne coepusculis, as I haue it taught in the chapiter before, and adde hem to the arche of the day artificial, and take there thy space of all the hole day vulgare unto the very night. In the same manner mayest thou werke to know the vulgare night.
To know the Hours inequals by Day.
UNderstand well, that these houres inequals ben cleaped houres of the planets: and understond well, that sometime been they longer by day than they be by night, and sometime contrary. But understand thou wel, that euermore generally the hours inequale of the daye, with the hours inequale of the night, conteyneth 30 degrees of the bordure, the which bordure is euermore answering to the degrees of the equinoctial, wherefore depart the arche of the day artificial in 12, and take there the quantity of the houre inequale by day and if thou abate the quantitie of the houre inequale by day, out of 360 degrees, thou shall the remenant that leaueth, performe the houre inequale by night.
To know the quantity of hours equales.
THe quantities of houres equales, that is to sayne, the houres of the clock ben departed by 15 degrees already in the bordure of thy Astrolabie, as well by night as by day, generally for euermore. What nedeth any more declaration: wherefore when thee lyst to know how many houres of the clock been passed, or any part of any of these houres ben to commen, fro such a time to such a time, by day or by night, knowe the degree of thy Sunne, and lay thy label on it: then turne thy reete about joyntly with thy label, and with the point of it recken in the border, fro the Sunne arysing, into the same place there thou desirest by day as by night. This conclusion woll I declare in the fourth party of the last chapiter of this treatise, so openly, that there shall lack no worde that needeth declaration.
Special declaration of the Hours of the Planets.
UNderstand well, that euermore, fro the arising of the Sunne, till it go to rest, the nadire of the Sunne shall shew the hour of the plannet, and fro that time forward, all the nyght, till the Sunne arise, then shal the very degree of the Sunne shew the hour of the planet. Ensample as thus. The 13. day of March fell upon a saturday parauenture, and at the arising of the Sunne I found the second degree of Aries sitting upon mine East orizont, all be it was but little. Then found I the second degree of Libra nadire of my Sunne, discending on my West orizont, upon which West orizont, euery day generally at the Sunne arising, entereth the houre of any plannet, under the foresaid West orizont, after the which planet, the day beareth his name, and endeth in the next strike of the planet, under the foresaid West orizont: and euer as the Sunne clymbeth upper and upper, so goeth his nadire downer and downer, and eching fro suche strikes the houres of plannets by order, as they sitten in heauen. The first houre inequale of euery saturday, is Saturne, and the second to Iupiter, the third to Mars, the fourth to the Sunne, the fift to Venus, the sixt to Mercurius, the seuenth to the Moone, and then ayen the eyght to Saturn, the ninth to Iupiter, the tenth to Mars, the eleueuth to the Sunne, the twelfth to Venus. And now is my Sunne gone to rest, as for that saturday, then sheweth the very degree of the Sunne the houre of Mercury, entring under my west orizont at euen. And next him succeedeth the Moone, and so forth by order, planet after planet, in houre after houre all the night long, till the Sun arise. Now riseth the Sunne the sunday by the morow, and the nadyre of the Sunne upon [Page 453] the West orizont, sheweth me the entering of the hour of the foresaid Sun. And in this manner succeedeth planet vnder planet, fro Saturn vnto the Moon, and fro the Moon vp again to Saturn, hour after hour generally, and thus know I this conclusion.
To know with which degree of the Zodiack any Star fix in thine Astrolabie, ariseth upon the East Orizont, although the Orizont be in another Sign.
SEt the centure of the sterre vpon the East orizont, and look what degree of any sign that sitteth vpon the same orizont at the same time: and vnderstand well, that with the same degree ariseth the same sterre. And this maruailous arising with a strong degree in another signe, is because that the latitude of the sterre fixe is either North or South fro the Equinoctiall. But soothly, the latitudes of planets been commonly yreckened fro the ecliptike, because that none of hem declineth but few degrees out fro the brede of the Zodiake. And take good keepe of this chapter of arising of celestiall bodies, for there trusteth well, that neither moone neither sterre in our ambolife orizont, that ariseth with the same degree of his longitude, saue in one case, and that is when they haue no longitude fro the eclipticke line. But neuerthelesse, sometime is euerich of these planets vnder the same line.
To know the declination of any Degree in the Zodiack, fro the equinoctiall Circle.
SEt the degree of any signe vpon the line Meridionall, and recken his altitude in the almicanteras, fro the East orizont vp to the same degree set in the foresaid line, and set there a pricke: Turne vp then thy reere, and set the head of Aries or Libra in the same Meridionall line, and set there another prick. And when that this is done, consider the altitudes of hem both: for soothly, the difference of thilke altitude, is the declination of thilke degree fro the Equinoctiall. And if it so be, that thilke degree be Northward fro the Equinoctiall, then is his declination North, and if it be Southward, then it is South.
To know for what latitude in any Region the Almicanteras in my Tables been compouned.
REcken how many degrees of almicanteras in the Meridionall line, be from the cercle equinoctiall, vnto the signet, or els from the Pole artike vnto the North orizont, and for so great a latitude, or so small a latitude, is the table compouned.
To know the latitude of the Sun, in the midst of the day, that is cleped the altitude Meridian.
SEt the degree of thy Sun upon the line Meridionall, and recken how many degrees of almicanteras been betwixe thine East orizont and the degree of thy Sun, and take there thine altitude meridian, that is to sayne, the highest degree of the Sun, as for that day. So maist thou know in the same line the highest line that any star fire climbeth by night, this is to sayne, that when any star fire is passed the line meridionall, then beginneth it to discend, and so doth the Sun.
To know the degree of the Sun, by the Reet, for a manner coryosyte.
SEek busily with thy rule the highest of the Sun in the midst of the day, tourne then thine Astrolabie, and with a pricke of ynke mark the number of the same altitude in the line meridionall. Tourne then thy reet about, till thou finde a degree of thy Zodiake according with the pricke, this is to sayne, sitting on the pricke, and in sooth thou shalt find but two degrees in all the Zodiake, of that condition. And yet thilke two degrees been in diuers signs. Then maist thou lightly, by the season of the year, know the sign in which is the Sun.
To know which day is like to other in length throughout the year.
LOok which degrees been ylike from the heeds of Cancer and Capricorn, and look when the Sun is in any of thilke degrees, then been the days like of length, that is to saine, that as long is that day in that month, as was soch a day in soch a month, there varieth but littell. Also if thou take two days naturelles in the year, ylike far from either points of the Equinoctial, in the opposite parties, then as long is the day artificial on that one day as on that other, and eke the contrary.
This Chapter is a manner declaration to Conclusions that followeth.
UNderstand well, that thy Zodiake is departed into half cercles, from the head of Capricorn vnto the head of Cancer, and ayenward from the head of Cancer vnto the head of Capricorn. The head of Capricorn is the lowest point, where as the Sun goeth in Winter, and the head of Cancer is the highest point, in which the Sun goeth in Sommer. And therefore vnderstand well, that any two degrees that been ylike far from any of these two heads, trust well that thilk two degrees been like declination, be it Southward or Northward, and the days of hem been like of length, and the nights also, and shadows ylike, and the altitudes ylike at midday for euer.
To know the very degree of any manner Star strange after his latitude, though he be indeterminate in thy Astrolabie, soothly to the truth thus he shall be known.
TAke the altitude of thy Sterre, when he is on the East side of the line meridional, as nigh as thou maist gesse, and take the ascendent anone right by some manner [Page 454] sterre fix, which thou knowest, and forget not the altitude of the first sterre ne thine ascendent. And when that this is done, aspie diligently when this same first sterre passeth any thing to the South westward, and catch him anone right in the same nombre of the altitude on the West side of this line meridional, as he was caught on the East side, and take a new ascendent anone right by some manner fixe, the which that thou knowest, and forget not this second ascendent. And when this is done, recken then how many degrees been betwixt the first ascendent, and the second ascendent, and recken well the middle degree betwixt both ascendents, and set thilk middle degree vpon thine East orizont, and then look what degree sit vpon the line meridional, and take there the very degree of the Ecliptike, in which the sterre standeth for the time. For in the Ecliptike is the longitude of a celestiall body, reckened euen fro the half of the head of Aries, vnto the end of Pisces, and his latitude is reckened after the quantite of his declination North or South, toward the poles of this werke. As thus, if it be of the Sun or any fix sterre, recken his latitude or his declinacion fro the equinoctial cercle, and if it be of a planet, recken then the quantite of his latitude from the ecliptike line, all be it so that from the equinoctial, may the declinacion or the latitude of any body celestiall be reckened, after the sight North or South, and after the quantite of his declinacion. And yet so may the latitude or the declinacion of any body celestiall, saue onely of the Sun, after his sight North or South. And after the quantite of his declinacion be reckened from the ecliptike line, fro which line all Planets sometime decline, North or South, saue onely the foresaid Sun.
To know the degrees of Longitudes of fixe Stars, after that they been determinate in thine Astrolabie, if it so be that they been truely set.
SEt the center of the sterre vpon the line meridional, and take keepe of thy Zodiake, and looke what degree of any signe sitte vpon the same line meridional at the same time, and there the degree in which the sterre standeth, and with the same degree commeth the same sterre vnto the same line from the orizont.
To know in special the Latitude of our Center, I mean after the altitude of Oxenford, and the heighth of our Pole.
UNderstand well, that as farre is the head of Aries or Libra in the equinoctial, from our orizont, as is the synet from the pole artike, and as hye as the pole artike from the orizont, as the equinoctiall is farre from the synet: I preue it thus by the latitude of Oxenford; vnderstand well that the height of our pole artike from our North orizont is 51 degrees, and 50 minutes, then is the synet from the pole artike 38 degrees, and 10 minutes, then is the equinoctiall from our synet 51 degrees, and 50 minutes, then is our South orizont from our equinoctiall 38 degrees, and 10 minutes. Vnderstand well this reckening also, forget not that the synet is 90 degrees of height from the orizont, and our equinoctiall is 90 degrees from our pole artike. Also this short rule is sothe, that the latitude of any planet in a region, is the distaunce from the synet vnto the equinoctiall.
To prove the Latitude of any place in a Region, by the proof of the heighth of the Pole artike in that same place.
IN some winters night, when the firmament is cleere and thicke sterred, wait a time till that euery sterre fix sit line right perpendiculer ouer the pole artike, and clepe that sterre A. and wait another sterre that sit line right vnder A. and vnder the pole, and clepe that sterre F. and vnderstand well that F. is not considred but onely to declare that A. that sit euer on the pole. Take then anone right the altitude of A. from the orizont, and forget it not, let A. and F. go farewel till against the dawning a great while, and come then again, and abide till that A. is euen vnder the pole vnder F. for sothely then will F. sit ouer the pole, take then eftsones the altitude of A. from the orizont, and note as well the second altitude as the first altitude. And when that this is done, recken how many degrees that the first altitude A. exceeded his altitude, and take half the ilke porcion that is exceeded, and adde it to his second altitude, and take there the eleuacion of the pole, and eke the altitude of thy region. For these two been of one nombre, that is to saine, as many degrees as thy pole is eleuat, so moch is the latitude of thy region. Ensample as thus, Parauenture the altitude of A. in the euening is 92 degrees of height, then will the second altitude or the dawning be 21. that is to saine, lesse than 92. that was his first altitude at euen. Take then the half of 92. and adde to it 21. that was his second altitude, and then hast thou the height of the pole and the latitude of thy region. But vnderstand well to preue this conclusion, and many another fayre conclusion, thou maist haue a plomet hanging on a line higher than thy head on a perche, and that line mote hang euen perpendiculer betwixt the pole and thine eye, and then shalt thou see if A. sit euen ouer the pole and ouer F. at euen. And also if F. sit euen ouer the pole and ouer A. at day.
Another Conclusion to prove the heighth of the Pole artike from the Orizont.
TAke any sterre fixe that euer descendeth vnder the orizont in thilke region, and consider his highest altitude and his lowest altitude from the orizont, and make a nombre of these altitudes: take then and abate [Page 455] half that nombre, and take there the eleuacion of the pole artike in that same region, and for the more declaracion, &c.
0 82. 51. 0. 20.
Another Conclusion to prove the Latitude of a Region that ye been in.
UNderstand well that the latitude of any place in a region, is verely the space betwixe the signe of hem that dwellen there, and the equinoctiall cercle, North or South, taking the measure in the meridionall line, as sheweth in the almicanteras of thine Astrolabie, and thilke space is as moch as the pole artike is hye in the same place from the orizont. And then is the depression of the pole artentike beneath the orizont, the same quantite of space, neither more ne lesse. Then if thou desire to know this latitude of the region, take the altitude of the Sun in the middle of the day, when the Sun is in the head of Aries or of Libra, for then moveth the Sun in the line equinoctiall, and abate the nombre of that same Suns altitude out of 90 degrees, and then is the remnaunt of the nombre that leueth the altitude of the region, as thus: I suppose that the Sun is thilke day at noone 38 degrees of height, abate then 38 degrees out of 90. so leueth there 52. then is 52 degrees the latitude: I say not this but for ensample, for well I wote the latitude of Oxenford is certaine minutes lesse. Now if it so be that thee thinketh too long a tarying to abide till that the Sun be in the head of Aries or of Libra, then wait when the Sun is in any other degree of the Zodiake, and consider the degree of this declinacion be Northward from the equinoctiall, abate then from the Suns altitude at noone the nombre of his declinacion, and then hast thou the highest of the heads of Aries and Libra, as thus: My Sun parauenture is in the 10. degree of Leo almost 56 of height at noone, and his declinacion is almost 18 degrees Northward from the equinoctiall, abate then thilke 18 degrees of declinacion out of the altitude at noone, then leueth 38 degrees, lo there the head of Aries or Libra, and thine equinoctial in that region. Also if it so be that the suns declinacion be Southward from the equinoctiall, adde then thilke declinacion to the altitude of the Sun at noone, and take there the heads of Aries and Libra and thine equinoctiall, abate then the height of the equinoctiall out of 90 degrees, and then leueth there 38 degrees, that is the distaunce of the region from the equinoctiall of any sterre fixe that thou knowest, and take the nether elongacion lengthing from the same equinoctial line, and werke after the manner aforesaid.
Declaration of the ascension of Signs, as well in the Circle direct, as in oblique.
THe excellency of the sphere solid amongs other noble conclusions, sheweth manifest the diuers ascencions of signs in diuers places, as well in right cercles as in embolyfe cercle. These auctours writen that thilke signe is cleped of right ascencion, with which the more part of the cercle equinoctiall and the lesse part of the Zodiake ascendeth, and thilke signe ascendeth embolyfe, with which the lesse of the Zodiake equinoctiall, and the more part of the Zodiake ascendeth, and euer mo the arche of the day and the arche of the night is there ylike long, and the Sun twise euery yeere passing through the signet of her head, and two sommers and two winters in a yeere haue these foresaid people, and the almicanteras in her Astrolabie been streight as a line, so hath shewed in this figure. The vtilities to know the ascencions of signes in the right cercle is this: Trust well that by mediacions of thilke ascencions, these Astrologiens by her tables and her instruments knowen verely the ascencion of euery degree and minute in all the Zodiake, in the embolyfe cercle, as shall be shewed. And note that this foresaid right orizont that is cleped orizont rectum, deuideth the equinoctiall into right angles, and embolyfe orizont, whereas the Pole is enhanced vpon the orizont, ouercommeth the equinoctiall embolyfe angles.
This is the Conclusion to know the ascensions of Signs in the right Circle, that is, Circulus directus.
SEt the head of what signe thee list to know the ascending on the right cercle, vpon the line meridionall, and wait where thine almury toucheth the bordure, and set there a pricke, tourne then thy reet westward till the end of the foresaid signe set vpon the meridionall line, and eftsones wait where thine almury toucheth the bordure, and set there another pricke. Recken then the nombers of degrees in the bordure betwixe both prickes, and take then the ascencion of the signe in the right cercle, and thus maist thou werke with euery porcion of the Zodiake.
To know the ascensions of Signs in the embolyfe Circle in every Region, I mean, in circulo obliquo.
SEt the head of the signes, which as thee list to know his ascencion vpon the East orizont, and wait where thine almury toucheth the bordure, and set there a pricke, tourn then thy reet vpward till the end of the same signe, set vpon the East orizont, and wait eftsones where as thine almury toucheth the bordure, and set there another pricke, recken then the number of the degrees in the bordure betwixe both prickes, and take there the ascencion of the signe in the embolyfe cercle. And vnderstand well that all the signes in the Zodiake, from the head of Aries vnto the end of Virgo, been cleped signes of the North from the equinoctiall, and these signes arisen betwixe the very East and the [Page 456] very North in our orizont generally for euer: and all the signs from the head of Libra vnto the end of Pisces, been cleped signs of the South fro the equinoctiall, and these signs arisen euermore betwixe the very East and the very South in our orizont, also euery sign betwixe the head of Capricorn vnto the end of Gemini, ariseth in our orizont in lesse than two hours equalls, and these same signs from the head of Capricorn vnto the end of Gemini, been called tortuous signs or crooked signs, for they risen embolyfe in our orizont, and these crooked signs been obedient to the signs that been of the right ascencion. These signs of right ascencion been fro the head of Cancer vnto the head of Sagitary, and these signs arisen more vpright than doth the other, and therefore they been called Soueraign signs, and euery of hem ariseth in more space than in two hours, of which signs Gemini obeyeth to Cancer, and Taurus to Leo, and Aries to Virgo, Pisces to Libra, Aquarius to Scorpio, and Capricorn to Sagitary, and thus euermore two signs that been like far from the head of Capricorn, obeyeth euerich of hem to other.
To know justly rhe four Quarters of the World, as East, West, South, and North.
TAke the altitude of thy Sun when thou list, and note well the quarter of the world in which the Sun is from the time by the asymutes, tourne then thine Astrolabie, and set the degree of the Sun in the almicanteras of his altitude, on thilke side that the Sun standeth, as is in manner of taking of hours, and lay thy labell on the degree of the Sun, and recken how many degrees of the Sun, been between the line meridionall and the point of thy labell, and note well the nombres. Tourn then again thine Astrolabie, and set the point of thy great rule there thou takest thine altitudes, vpon as many degrees in his bordure from his meridional, as was the point of thy labell from the line meridionall, on the womb side. Take then thine Astrolabie with both hands sadly and slyly, and let the Sun shine through both holes of thy rule, and slyly in thilke shining lay thine Astrolabie couch adown euen vpon a plain ground, and then will the meridionall line of thine Astrolabie be euen South, and the East line will lie euen East, and the West line West, and the North line North, so that thou werke softly and auisely in the couching, and thou hast thus the four quarters of the firmament, &c.
To know the altitude of Planets from the way of the Sun, whether they been North or South from the way aforesaid.
LOok when a Planet is on the line meridional, if that her altitude be of the same height, that is the degree of the Sun for that day, and then is the Planet in the very way of the Sun, and hath no latitude. And if the altitude of the Planet be higher than the degree of the Sun, then is the Planet North from the way of the sign South, a quantite of latitude as sheweth by thine almicanteras, and if the altitude be lesse than the degree of the Sun, then is the Planet South from the way of the Sun, soch a quantite of latitude as sheweth by thine almicanteras: This is to saine, from the way of the Sun in euery place of the Zodiake, for on the morow the Sun will be in another degree.
For to know the Signet for the arising of the Sun, this is to fain, the party of the Orizont in which the Sun ariseth.
THou must first consider that the Sun ariseth not in the very East signet, sometime by North East, and sometime by South East, sothly the Sun ariseth euermore in the very East in our orizont, but if he be in the head of Aries or Libra. Now is thine orizont departed into 24 parties of thy minutes, in significacion of 24 parts of the world, though it be so, that shipmen recken all that parties in 32. Then is there no more, but wait in the which minute that the Sun entreth at his arising, and take there the signet of the rising of the Sun.
The manner of division of thine Astrolabie, is thus enjoyned, as in this case.
FIrst, it is deuided in four places principally, with the line that commeth fro the East to the West, and then with another line, that goeth fro the South to the North: then is it deuided in small parties of minutes, as East and East by South, where that is the first minute aboue the East line, and so forth fro party to party, till that thou come again to the East line. Thus thou might vnderstand the signet of euery sterre, in which party he ariseth.
To know in which party of the Firmament is the Conjunction.
COnsider the time of the conjunction by the Kalender, as thus: how many hours that the conjunction is fro midday of the day before, as sheweth the Canon of the Kalender. Recken then that nomber in the bordure of thine Astrolabie, as thou were wont to do in knowing of the hours of the day, or of the night, and lay thy labell ouer the degree of the Sun, then will the point of the labell sit vpon the hour of the conjunction. Look then in which minute the degree of the Sun sitteth, and in that party of the firmament is the conjunction.
To know the Signet of the altitude of the Sun.
THis is no more to say, but any time of the day take the altitude of the Sun, and by the minutes in which hee ascendeth thou might see in which party of the Firmament hee is, and in the same wise might thou see by night of any sterre, wheder hee sit East, [Page 457] West, or South, or any part betwixe, after the name of the minutes in which the sterres standeth.
To know sothly the longitude of the Moon, or any Planet that hath no Latitude, from the time of the Ecliptike Line.
TAke the altitude of the Moone and reken thyne altitude vp, among thyne almicanteras, on which side that the moone standeth, & set there a pricke. Take then anone right upon the Moones side the altitude of euery sterre fixe that thou knowest, and set his cercle upon his altitude among thyne almicanteras there the Sterre is founden, waite then of which degree the zodiake is, to which the prick of the altitude of the Moon, and there take the degree in which the Moone standeth. This conclusion is very soth, of the Starres in thine Astrolaby, and standeth after the trouth. Some treatise of the Astrolaby maketh none excepcion, whether the Moone have altitude or none, nor whether side of the Moone the altitude of the Sterre be found. And note if the Moone shewe her selfe by day, then thou mayest woorche the same conclusion by the Sunne, as well as by the starre fixe.
This is the werching of the Conclusions to know whether any Planet be direct or retrograde.
TAke the altitude of any Sterre, that is cleped a Planete, and note it well, anone right take the altitude of some sterre fixe that thou knowest, and note it well also, and come again the third or the fourth night next folowyng, for then thou shalt perceyue well the meuyng of the Planete whether he meue forward or backward, and waite well then when the sterre fixe is in this same altitude that she was when thou tooke her first altitude of the foresaid Planet, and note it well, for trust well, if so be that the Planet be in the right side of the meridional line, so that his second altitude be lesse than the first altitude was, then is the Planet direct, and if he be in the West side in that condicion, then is he retrograde, and if so be that this Planet be in the East side, when his altitude is take, so that the second altitude be more than his first altitude, then is he retrograde, and if he be in the West side of the lyne meridional, then is he direct, but the contrary moving of these parties, is the cours of the Moone, for sothly the moone moveth the contrary fro either Planets, in her ecliptike line, but in none other maner.
The conclusion of equacions of Houses after the Astrolaby.
SEt the beginnyng of the degree that ascendeth upon the end of the viii. houre inequall, then will the lyne of the second house sit upon the line of midnight, remeue then the degree that ascendeth, and set him upon the end of the x. houre inequale, then will the beginning of the iii. house sitte upon the Midnight lyne, bryng up againe the same degree that ascendeth first, and set hym upon the East Orizont, and then will the beginning of the iiii. hous sit upon the Midnight lyne. Take then the nadere of the degree, that ascendeth first, and set hym vpon the end of the ii. houre inequale, and then will the beginnyng of the v. house sit upon the Midnight lyne. Take then the nadere of the ascendent, and set hym upon the end of the iiii. hour inequal, and then wil the beginning of the vi. house sit vpon the Midnight line. The beginning of the vii. house is nadere of the ascendent, and the beginning of the viii. house is nadere of the second, and the beginnyng of the ninth house is nadere of the third, and the beginnyng of the tenth house is nadere of the iiii. and the beginning of the eleuenth house is nadere of the fifth, and the beginning of the xii house is nadere of the sixt house.
Another maner of equacions of Houses, by the Astrolaby.
TAke thyne ascendent, and then thou hast the fower angles, for well thou wotest, that the opposite is of thine ascent, that is to say, the beginning of the seuenth house sit vpon the West Orizont, and the beginning of the tenth house vpon the lyne meridional, and his opposite vpon the line of Midnight, then lay thy labell upon the degree that ascendeth, and reken then fro the point of thy labell all the degrees in the bordure, till that thou come to the Meridional line, and departe all thilk degrees into three euen parts, and take there the euen porcions of three other houses, for to lay thy labell ouer euery of these three parties, and then thou might see by the labell in the zodiake the beginning of these three houses fro the ascendent, that is to say, the twelue next aboue the ascendent, and then the eleuenth house and the tenth house upon the Meridional line, as I first said, the same wise werche fro thy ascendent down to the line of Midnight, and thus thou hast three houses, that is to say, the beginning of the second, the third, and the fourth house: then is the nadire of these three houses, the beginning of these three houses that followeth.
To find the line Meridional, to dwell fix in any certain place.
TAke a round plate of metal, for warpyng the border the better, & make there upon a iuste compace a little within the bordure, and lay this round plate vpon an euen ground, or some euen stone, or on an euen stock fit in thy ground, & lay it euen by a rule in y• centre of y• compace, sticke an euen pinne or a wire upright, the smaller the better, & set thy pinne or thy wire, by a plomme rules end vpright even, & let this pinne be no lenger than a quarter of thy diameter of the compace fro ye line, and wait busily about tenne or eleuen of the clocke, when y• sunne sheweth, when the shadow [Page 458] of the pinne entereth any thing within the cercle of the compace one heere brede, & make there a prick with ynke: abide then still wayting on the sunne after one of the clock, til y• the shadow of the pinne or of the wire passe any thyng out of the cercle or compace, bee it never so little, and set there a pricke. Take then a compace and measure even the middle, betwixt both prickes, and set there a pricke: Take then a Rule and draw a strike even fro the pinne vnto the middle pricke, & take there the line Meridonall for evermore, as in y• same place. And if thou draw a crosse ouerthwarte the compace, justly over yc line Meridionall, then haste thou East and West, and perconsequens the oppositife, that is South and North.
Description of the Meridional line, and of the longitudes and latitudes of cities and towns, as well as of climates.
THis lyne Meridional, is but a manner discription of a lyne imagined, that passeth vpon the poles of ye world and by the signet of our hedde: and it is cleaped the signet, for in what place that any man is at any tyme of the yeere, when the Sunne by meuyng of the Firmament commeth to his Meridionall place, then is it the very Midday, that we cleape Noone: and therefore it is cleaped the lyne of Midday. Then take heed that evermore of two Citees, or of two Townes, of which the one approcheth nerer the East, than doth the other Towne, trust well that thilk two Tounes have divers Meridians. Take kepe also, that the arche of the Equinoctial, that is conteyned & bounded betwene the two Meridians, is cleaped the Longitude of the toune. And if it so be yt two Tounes have Meridian like, or one Meridian, then is the distaunce of hem bothe like farre: and in this maner they chaunge not her Meridian, but sothly they chaunge her Almicanteras, for the haunsing of the Pole, and the distaunce of the Sun. The Longitude of a climate may be cleaped the space of ye earth, fro the beginning of the first climate, unto the laste end of the same climate, even directe against the Pole artike, thus say some auctours. And some clerks say, that if men cleap the Latitude of a Center y• arch Meridian, yt is conteined or intercept, betwixe the signet and the Equinoctiall, then they say, that the distaunce fro the Equinoctiall unto the end of the climate, even ayenst the Pole artike, is the Longitude of the climate for South.
To know with what degree of the Zodiack, that any Planet ascendeth on the Orizont, where his Latitude be North or South.
KNow by thine Almanack the degree of the Ecliptike of any signe, in which that the Planet is rekened for to bee, and that is cleaped the degree of his Longitude. And knowe also the degree of his Latitude fro the ecliptike, North or South, and by these ensamples following in especiall, thou mayest wirche with every signe of the Zodiake. The Longitude peraventure of Venus, or of another Planet was of Capricorne, and the Latitude of hem Northward degrees fro the ecliptike line, then toke I a subtil compas, and cleaped the one point of my compace A. and that other F. then tooke I the point of A. and set it in the ecliptike line, and my Zodiake in the degree of the Longitude of heddes, that is to say, in the head of Capricorne, and then set I the point of F. upward in the same signe, because that the Altitude was North vpon y• Latitude of Venus, that is to say, in the degree fro the heed of Capricorne, and thus have I the degrees betwixe my two prickes: then laid I doune softly my compace, and set the degree of the Longitude upon the Orizont, then tooke I and waxed my labell, in maner of a pair of tables, to receive distinctly the pricke of my compace, then tooke I this forsaid labell, and layed it fix over the degree of my Longitude, then tooke I up my compace, and the point of A. in the waxe of my labell, as I coud gesse, over the ecliptike line, in the end of yc Longitude, I set the point over endlong on y• labell, vpon the space of the Latitude inward, and on the Zodiake, yt is to say, Northward fro the ecliptike: then laied I doune my compace, and looked well in the way upon the ecliptike of A. & F. then tourned I my reete, till that the pricke of F. sate vpon the Orizont, then saw I well, that the body of Venus in her Latitude of degrees septentrionals, ascendeth in the end of the degree fro yt heed of Capricorne. And note that in this maner thou mightest werch with any latitude septentrional in all signes: but sothly the latitude Meridional of a planet in Capricorne may not be take, because of the little space betwixe the ecliptike, and the bordure of y• Astrolabie, and sikerly in all other signes it may be take. Also the degree peraventure of Iupiter or of any other Planet was in the first degree of Pisces in longitude, & his latitude was degrees Meridionall. Then tooke I the point of A. & set it in y• first degree of Pisces on the ecliptike, then set I ye point dounward of F. in yt same sign, because that the latitude was South degrees, yt is to say, fro the heed of Pisces, & thus have I degrees betwixt both pricks. Then set I the degree of the longitude vpon the Orizont, then tooke I my labell, & laid him fixe vpon y• degree of longitude, then set I y• point of A. on my labell even over the ecliptike line, in y• end of the degree of y• longitude, and I sette y• point of F. endlong on my labell, the space of degrees of y• latitude outward fro the Zodiake, that is to say, Southward fro the Ecliptike toward the bordure, and then tourned I my reete till the point of F. sate vpon the Orizont, then saw I well yt the body of Iupiter, in his latitude of degrees Meridionall, ascendeth with the degree of Pisces in horescopo. And in this maner [Page 459] thou mayest wyrch with any Latitude, as I said first, saue in Capricorn. And thou wilt ply this craft with the arising of the Moone, looke thou reken well the course of houre by houre, for she dwelleth in a degree of her Longitude but a little while, as thou woste well: but neuerthelesse, if thou legen well her very meuing by the tables, or alter her course houre by houre, thou shalt do well ynough.
Vmbra recta.
IF thou wilt wirche with Vmbra recta, if thou might come to the base of the Toure, in this manner shalt thou wirche: take the altitude of the Toure with both holes, so that the rule lye even on a point. Ensample, as thus: I see him through the poynt of fower, then mete I the space betwixe me and the Toure, and I find it twenty foote, then behold I how fower is to twelue, and I find it is the third part of twelve, Right so the space betwixe thee and the Toure is the third part of the altitude of the Toure: then thrise twenty foot is the highest of the toure, with the addition of thine own body fro thine eye. If the Rule fall on fiue, then is fiue times twelue the highest of the toure.
Vmbra versae.
IF thou mayest not come to the base of the toure, and thou fixe him through the nomber of one, set there a pricke at thy foote, then go nere the Toure, and see him through at the point of two, and set there an other prick, and then behold how one hath him to twelve, and thou shalt find that he hath him twelve sithes, then behold how two have him to xii, and thou shalt find it sixe sithes, and therefore the space betwixe two prickes, is sixe times thine altitude. And note that at the first altitude of one, thou settest a pricke, and afterward when thou seest him through at two, there thou settest a prick, then thou findest betwene, 80 foot, then thou shalt find that tenne is the eight part of 80, then is a foote the altitude of the Toure, but if it fall upon another poynt, as thus: It falleth on sixe at the seconde takyng it, when it falleth on fower, then shalt thou find that sixe is the second part of twelve, and fower is the third part of twelve by the third part, that is to say, the space betwixe two prickes, twise the height of the Toure, and if the difference were three, then wold it be three times the height, Et sic de singulis. An other maner werchyng by Vmbra recta. If thou mayest not come by the base of the Toure, wirche in this wise: Sette thy rule upon one, till thou see the Altitude, and set at thy foote a pricke, and then set thy rule upon two, and so do in the same manner: then look what is the difference betwixe one and two, and thou shalt find that it is one: then measure the space betwixe the two prickes and that is the twelfth part of the altitude of the Toure, and so of all other.
Vmbra recta.
IF thy Rule fall vpon the eight point, on the right shadowe, then make the figure of eight, then looke how much space of yt feet is betwixe thee and the Tour, & multiply that by twelve, & when thou haste multiplied it by the same nomber, then devide it by the nomber of eight, and keepe the residue, and adde thereto thy height vnto thyne iye, to y• residue, and that shall be the very height of the Toure. And thus mayst thou worche on the same side, from one to twelve, &c.
Vmbra recta.
ANother maner of working vpon the same side. Looke vpon what point thy rule falleth, when thou seest the top of the Toure, through the two holes, and then mete the space from thy foote to the base of the Toure, and right as the nomber of the point, hath himself to twelve, right so ye mesure betwixt thee & the Toure, hath himself to ye height of the same Toure. Ensample as thus: I set case thy rule fall vpon eight then is eight two third partes of twelve, so is the space two third partes of the Toure.
Vmbra versa.
TO know the height by the points of Vmbra versa. If thy rule fall vpon 3. when thou seest the top of the Toure, set a prick there thy foote standeth, and go nere till thou mayst see the same toppe, at the point of iiii. and sette there another pricke: then mete how many foote is betwixe the two prickes, and the height vp to thine iye, and that shall be the height of the Toure. And note, that iii. is the fowerth part of xii. and iiii. is the third part of xii. Now passeth iiii. the nomber of iii. by distaunce of 1. therfore the same space with thy height to thyne eye, is the height of the Toure. And if it were so that there were two or three distaunce in the nombers, so should the measure betwixe the prickes be twise or thrise the height of the Toure.
Vmbra recta.
TO know y• height if thou maist not come to y• base of y• thing, set thy rule vpon wt point thou wilte, so y• thou mayst see y• toppe of ye thyng through the two holes, & make a marke there as thy foote standeth, & go nere or ferther, till thou mayst see it through another point, & make there another marke, & looke wt difference is betwixe the two points in the scale, and right as that difference hath him to xii. right so the spaces betwix y• two markes hath hym to the height of the thyng. Ensample. I set the case, that thou seest it through the point of iiii. and after at the point of iii. Now passeth the nomber of iiii. the nomber of iii. the distaunce of one, & right as this difference of one, hath himself to [Page 460] twelve, right so the measure betwixe bothe the markes, hath him to the height of the same thyng, putting thereto the height of thy selfe to thine eye. And thus maiest thou werke from one to twelve.
Vmbra versa.
FErthermore, if thou wilt know in Vmbra versa, by the crafte of Vmbra recta, I suppose to take thine altitude at the point of four, and makest a marke, and then thou goest nere, till thou haste it at the point of three, and makest there another marke, then must thou deuide 144 by four, the nomber yt cometh thereof shal be 36, & after deuide 144 by three, and the nomber yt cometh thereof is 48, then looke what difference is betwixe 36 and 48, and yt shalt thou find 12, and right as 12 hath him to 12, so the space betwixe ye two pricks hath him to the altitude of the thyng.
The Complaint of the Black Knight.
The heavy Complaint of a Knight, for that he cannot win his Ladies grace.
¶Lenuoye.
A Praise of Women.
The House of Fame.
In this Book is shewed how the Deeds of all Men and Women, be they good or bad, and carried by Report to Posterity.
The Prologue of the Testament of Love.
MAny men there been, that with eres openly sprad, so moch swalowen the deliciousnesse of iestes and of ryme, by queint knitting coloures, that of the goodnesse or of the badnesse of the sentence, take they litle hede or els none.
Sothely dull witte and a thoughtful soule so sore haue mined & graffed in my spirites, that soch craft of enditing woll nat been of my acquaintaunce. And for rude wordes & boistous percen the hart of the herer to the intest point, and planten there the sentence of thinges, so that with littel helpe it is able to spring. This booke that nothing hath of the great flood of witte, ne of semeliche colours, is doluen with rude wordes and boistous, and so drawe togider to maken the catchers therof ben the more ready to hent sentence.
Some men there been that painten with colours rich, & some with vers, as with red inke, & some with coles & chalke: And yet is there good matter to y• leude people of thilke chalkie purtreyture, as hem thinketh for the time, and afterward the sight of the better colours yeuen to hem more joye for the first leudnesse. So soothly this leude clowdy occupation is not to praise, but by the leud, for commenly leude leudnesse commendeth. Eke it shall yeue sight, that other precious things shall be the more in reuerence. In Latin and French hath many soueraine wits had great delite to endite, and haue many noble things fulfilde, but certes there been some that speaken their poisie mater in French, of which speche the French men haue as good a fantasie as we haue in hearing of French mens English. And many terms there ben in English, which unneth we English men connen declare the knowledging: How should then a french man borne such termes conne iumpere in his matter, but as the Iay chatereth English, right so truly the understanding of English men wol not stretch to the priuie termes in Frenche, what so euer we bosten of straunge langage. Let then Clerks enditen in Latin, for they haue the propertie of science, and the knowing in that facultie: and lette Frenchmen in their French also enditen their queint termes, for it is kindely to their mouthes, & let us shewe our fantasies in such wordes as we learneden of our dames tongue. And although this booke be little thanke worthy for the leudnesse in trauaile, yet such writings exciten men to thilk things that been necessary: for euery man thereby may as by a perpetual mirrour seene the vices or vertues of other, in which thing lightly may be conceiued to escheue perils, & necessaries to catch after, as auentures haue fallen to other people or persons. * Certes, the soueraignst thing of desire and most creature reasonable, haue or els should haue full appetite to their perfection: unreasonable beasts mowen not, sith reason hath in hem no working: Then reasonable that woll not, is comparisoned to unreasonable, and made like hem. Forsooth the most soueraigne and finall perfection of man, is in knowing of a sooth, withouten any entent deceiuable, and in loue of one very God, that is inchaungeable, that is, to know and loue his creator.
Nowe principally, the meane to bring in knowledging and louing his creatour, is y• consideration of things made by ye creatour, where through be thilke thynges that beene made, understanding here to our wits, arne the unseen priueties of God, made to us sightfull and knowing in our contemplation and understonding. These things then forsooth much bringen us to ye full knowledging sooth, and to yt parfite loue of the maker of heuenly things. Lo Dauid faith: thou hast delited me in making: as who saith, to haue delite in the tune how God hath lent me in consideration of thy making. Whereof Aristotle in the booke de Animalibus, sayth to naturel Philosophers: * It is a great liking in loue of knowing their creatour: & also in knowing of causes, in kindely things considered. Forsooth the formes of kindely thynges, & the shape, a great kindely loue me should haue to the werkemen that hem made. * The crafte of a werkeman is shewed in the werke. Herefore [Page 485] truely the Philosophers with a liuely studye many noble things, right precious & worthie to memorie written, and by a great swete and trauaile to us leften of causes the properties in natures of things, to which therefore Philosophers it was more joy, more lyking, more heartie lust in kindely vertues & matters of reason, the perfection by busie studie to know, than to haue had all the treasour, all the richesse, all the vaine-glory that the passed Emperours, Princes, or Kings hadden. Therfore the names of hem in the booke of perpetuall memorie, in vertue and peace arne written: and in ye contrary, that is to sayne, in Styxe, the foule pitte of hell, arne thilke pressed that such goodnesse hated. And because this booke shall be of loue, and the prime causes of stering in that doing with passions and diseases for wanting of desire, I will that this booke be cleaped the Testament of Loue.
But now thou Reader, who is thilke that will not in scorne laugh, to heare a dwarfe or els halfe a man, say he wil rend out the swerd of Hercules handes: And also hee should set Hercules gades a mile yet ferther, and over that hee had power and strength to pull up the speare that Alisander the noble might never wagge.
And that passing all thing to been mayster of Fraunce by might, there as ye noble gracious Edward the third for all his great prowesse in victories ne might all yet conquere.
Certes, I wote well there shall be made more scorne & iape of me, that I so unworthely clothed all togither in ye cloudie cloude of vnconning, will putten me in prees to speke of loue, or els of ye causes in yt matter, sithen all the greatest clerkes han had ynough to done, and as who laith, gathered up cleane toforne hem, and with their sharpe sithes of conning all mowen, and made there of great rekes and noble, full of all plenties to feed me and many another. * Enuy forsooth commendeth nought his reason, that he hath in haine, be it neuer so trustie. And although these noble reapers, as good workmen, & worthy their hire, han all draw and bound vp in y• sheues, and made many shockes, yet haue I ensample to gader the small crums, and fullin my wallet of tho that fallen from the bourde among the small hounds, notwithstanding the trauaile of the almoigner, yt hath drawe vp in y• cloth all ye remissailes, as trenchours, and the releefe to beare to the almesse. Yet also haue I leaue of yt noble husband Boece, although I be a stranger of conning to come after his doctrine, & these great worke men, and gleane my handfuls of y• shedding after their hands, & if me faile ought of my full, to encrease my portion with yt I shall draw by priuities out of shockes: a slye seruaunt in his owne helpe is often muche commended, knowyng of trouth in causes of thyngs, was more hardier in the first seechers, and so sayth Aristotle, and lighter in us that han followed after. For their passing study han freshed our wits, & our vnderstanding han excited, in consideration of trouth, by sharpnesse of their reasons. Vtterly these thynges be no dreames ne yapes, to throwe to hogges, it is lifelyche meate for children of trouth, and as they me betiden when I pilgrimaged out of my kithe in Winter, when y• weather out of measure was boistous, and the wylde winde Boreas, as his kinde asketh, with drying colds, maked y• wawes of the Decian sea so to arise vnkindely ouer y• commune bankes, that it was in point to spill all the earth.
The Testament of Love.
This book is an Imitation of Boetius de Consolatione Philosophiae; in the first part whereof, Love (by way of Legacy) doth bequeath to all them which follow her lore, the knowledge of Truth from Errour, whereby they may rightly judge of the Causes of cross Fortune, and such Adversities as befall them, whether in their Suits of Love, or otherwise, and so in the end obtain their wished Desires. In this second part she reacheth the Knowledge of one very God our Creatour, as also the State of Grace, and the State of Glory; all the which good things are figured by a Margarite Pearl. Chaucer did compile this book as a Comfort to himself after great Griefs conceived for some rash Attempts of the Commons, with whom he had joyned, and thereby was in fear to lose the Favour of his best Friends; and also therein to set end to all his Writing, being commanded by Venus (as appeareth by Gower in the end of his eighth Book, entituled Confessio Amantis) so to do, as one that was Venus's Clerk, even as Gower had made his Confessio Amantis his last Work, and shrift of his former Offences.
ALas Fortune alas, I that sometyme in delicious houres was wont to enioy blisfull stoundes, am now driue by vnhappy heauinesse to bewaile my sundry euils in tene. Truly I leue, in mine herte is writte of perdurable letters all the ententions of lamentation that now been ynempned: for any manner disease outward in sobbyng manner, she weth sorowfull yexing from within. Thus from my comforte I ginne to spill, sith she that should me sollace, is ferre fro my presence. Certes, her absence is to me an hell, my steruyng death thus in wo it myneth, that endelesse care is throughout [Page 486] mine heart clenched, blisse of my ioy, that oft me murthed is tourned into gall, to thinke on thing that may not at my will in armes me hent. Mirth is chaunged into tene, when swinke is ther continually, that rest was wont to soiourne and haue dwelling place. Thus witlesse thoughtfull, sightlesse looking, I endure my pennaunce in this dark prison, caitisned fro friendship and acquaintaunce, and forsaken of all that any worde dare speake. Straunge hath by way of intrusion made his home there me should be, if reason were heard as he should. Neuer the later, yet heartely ladye, precyous Margarite, haue mind on thy seruaunt, & thinke on his disease, how lightlesse he liueth, sithe the beames brennende in loue of thyne eyen arne so bewet, that worldes and cloud atweene vs twey, wol not suffer my thoughts of hem to be enlumined. Thinke that one vertue of a Margarite precious is amongs many other the sorrowful to comfort yet will of that me sorrowful to comfort, is my luste to haue nought els at this time, deede ne death, ne no manner trauyle hath no power myne heart so much to fade, as should to heare of a twinckling in your disease. Ah, God forbede that, but yet let me dey, let me sterue withouten any measure of pennaunce, rather than myne hartely thinking comfort in ought were diseased. What may my seruice aueile in absence of her, that my seruice should accept? is this nat endlesse sorrow to thinke? Yes, yes, God wote, mine heart breaketh nigh asunder: howe should the ground without kindely noriture▪ bringen forth any fruits? Howe should a shippe withouten a sterne in the great sea be gouerned? How should I withouten my blisse, my heart, my desire, my ioy, my goodnesse endure in this contrarious prison, yt thinke euery houre in the day an hundred Winter? Well may now Eue sayne to me Adam, In sorrow fallen from wealth, driuen art thou out of Paradise, with sweate thy sustenaunce to beswinke. Deepe in this pining pitte, with wo I ligge ystocked, with chaynes linked of care and of tene. It is so high from thence I lie, & of the common yearth, there ne is cable in no land maked, that might stretch to me, to draw me into blisse, ne steyers to steye on is none, so yt without recouer endlesse, here to endure I wote well I purueide. O, where art thou now friendship, that sometime with laughande chere, madest both face and countenaunce to me wardes? Truely nowe art thou went out of towne, but euer me thinketh, he weareth his old clothes, and that the soule, in the which the life of friendship was in, is drawne out from his other Spirits. Now then farewell friendship, and farewell felawes, me thinketh ye all han taken your [...]eaue: no force of you all at ones.
But lady of loue, ye wote what I meane, yet thinke on thy seruaunt, that for thy loue spilleth, all thyngs haue I forsake, to follow, en thyne hestes: reward me wyth a thought, though ye doe naught els. Remembraunce of loue lithe so sore vnder my breast, yt other thought commeth not in my mynd, but gladnesse to thinke on your goodnesse, and your merry cheare, frendes and sorrow, to thinke on your wretch and your daunger, from whych Christ me saue. My great ioy it is to haue in meditations the bounties, the vertues, the nobley in you printed: sorrow and hell commen at ones, to suppose that I be veined. Thus with care, sorrow, and tene am I shapt, meyne end with death to make. Now good goodly thinke on this.
O wretched foole that I am fallen into so lowe, the heate of my brenning tene hathe me all defaced: how should ye Lady set prise on so foule filth? My conning is thin, my witte is exiled, like to a foole naturell am I comparisoned. Truely lady, but your mercie the more were, I wote well all my labour were in idle: your mercie then passeth right.
God graunt yt proposition to be verified in me, so y• by trust of good hope I mow come to the hauen of ease, and sith it is impossible, the colours of your qualities to chaunge: & forsooth I wote well, wemme ne spotte may not abide, there so noble vertue haboundeth, so that the defacing to you is verily imaginable, as countenance of goodnesse, with encresing vertue, is so in you knit to abide by necessary manner, yet if the riuers might fall, which is ayenst kind, I wote well mine herte, ne should therfore naught flit, by ye least point of Geometrie, so sadly is it fonded, yt away from your seruice in loue, may he not depart, O loue, when shall I been pleased? O charitie, when shall I been leased? O good goodly, when shall y• dice tourne? O full of vertue, doe y• chaunce of comfort vpward to fall. O loue, when wolt thou think on thy seruaunt? I can no more, but here outcast of al welfare, abide y• day of my death, or els to see y• sight that might all my welling sorrowes voide, and of y• flood make an ebb. These diseases mowen well by duresse of sorrow make my life to unbodie, and so for to die: but certes, ye Ladie in a full perfection of loue, been so knitte with my soule, that death maye not thilke knotte unbinde ne depart, so that ye and my saule together, as endelesse, in blisse should dwell, and there shall my soule at the full been eased, that he may haue your presence, to shew the entent of his desires: Ah dear God, that shall be a great joy. Nowe yearthly Goddesse, take regarde of thy seruaunt, though I be feeble, for thou art wont to prayse them better, that would conserue in loue, all be he full meaner than Kings or Princes, that woll not haue that vertue in mind. Now precious Margarite, that with thy noble vertue, hall drawne me into loue firste, me wenyng thereof to haue blisse, as Galle and Aloes are so muche sprong, that [Page 487] sauour of sweetnesse may I not atast. Alas that your benigne eyen, in which that mercie seemeth to haue all his noriture, nill by no way tourne the clearenesse of mercie to mee wards. Alas, that your brennande vertues, shinyng amonges all folke, and enluminyng all other people, by haboundance of encreasing, sheweth to me but smoake, and no light. These thynges to thinke in mine heart, maketh euerye daye weepyng in myne eyen to renne. These liggen on my backe so sore, that importable burden mee seemeth on me backe to be charged, it maketh mee backeward to meue, when my steps by common course euen foorth pretend: These thynges also on ryght side and left, haue mee so enuolued with care, that wanuehope of helpe is throughout mee ronne truely, and leue that gracelesse is my Fortune, whyche that euer sheweth it mee wards by a cloudye disease, all ready to make stormes of rene, and the blisfull side halt still awayward, and woll it not suffer to mee wards to turne: no force, yet woll I not beene conquered.
O, alas that your nobley, so muche among all other creatures, commended by flowyng streme, by all manner vertues, but there been woonderfull, I not whyche that let the flood to come into my soule, wherefore purely mated with sorrow through sought, my selfe I crie on your goodnesse, to haue pittie on this captife, that in the inrest degree of sorrowe and disease is left, and without your goodly will, from any helpe and recouery. These sorrowes may I not susteyne, but if my forrowe shoulde bee tolde, and to you wards shewed, although muche space is betweene vs twayne, yet me thynketh, that by suche joleinyng wordes, my disease ginneth ebbe. Truely me thynketh, that the sowne of my lamentations weepyng, is right nowe flow into youre presence, and there cryeth after mercye and grace, to whyche thynge mee seemeth, thee lift none answer to yeue, but with a deinous cheare ye commaunded it to auoyd, but God forbid that any woord should of you spring, to haue so little ruth. Parde, pitie and mercye in euery Margarite is closed by kinde, amongs many other vertues, by qualities of comfort, but comfort is to mee right naught worth, withouten mercye and pittie of you alone, which thynges hastely God me graunt for his mercye.
REhearsing these thynges and many other, without time or moment of rest, mee seemed for anguish of disease, that all togither I was rauished, I cannot tell how, but holly all my passions and feelings weten lost, as it seemed for the time, and suddainely a manner of drede light in mee all at ones, nought such feare as folke haue of an enemie, that were mightye, and would hem greue, or dooen hem disease: for I trowe this is well knowe to many persons, that otherwhile if a man be in his Soueraignes presence, a manner of feardnesse creepeth in his heart, not for harme, but of goodly subjection: namely, as menne readen that Aungels been aferde of our Sauiour in heauen. And parde, there ne is ne may no passion of disease be, but it is to meane, that Aungels been adradde, not by fiends of drede, sithen they been perfitely blissed, as affection of wonderfulnesse, and by service of obedience: such ferde also han these louers in presence of their loues, and subjects aforne their Soueraines: right so with ferdnesse mine hert was caught. And I suddainely astonied, there entered into the place there I was lodged, a lady, the seeme liche and most goodly to my sight that euer toforne appeared to any creature, and truly in the blustering of her look she yaue gladnesse & comfort suddainly to all my wits, and right so shee dooth to euery wight that commeth in her presence. And for she was so goodly (as me thought) mine hert began somdeale to be enbolded, and wext a little hardye to speake, but yet with a quaking-voice, as I durst, I salued her, and enquired what shee was, and why she so worthie to sight, dained to enter into so foul a dungeon, and namely a prison, without leaue of my keepers. For certes, although the vertue of deeds of mercy stretchen to visiten the poor prisoners, and hem after that faculties been had to comfort, me seemed that I was so ferre fallen into miserie and wretched hid caitifenesse, that mee should no precious thing neigh: and also tha [...] for my sorrow euery wight should beene heavie, and wish my recouerie. But when this lady had somedeale apperceiued, as well by my wordes, as by my chere, what thought busied me within, with a good womanly countenance she said these words: O my norie, we nest thou that my manner be to foryet my friends or my seruaunts? Nay (qd. she) it is my full entent to visite and comfort all my friendships and allies, as well in time of perturbation, as of most propertie of blisse, in mee shall vnkindenesse neuer bee founden. And also sithen I haue so few especiall true now in these days, wherefore I may well at more leisar come to hem that me deseruen, and if my comming may in any thing auail, wete well I woll come often.
Now good lady (qd. I) that art so faire on to looke, ryning honey be thy wordes, blisse of paradise arne thy lookings, joy and comfort are thy mouings, What is thy name? How is it that in you is so mokell werking vertues enpight, as me seemeth, & in none other creature, that euer saw I with mine eyen? My disciple (qd. she) me wondereth of thy words, and on thee, that for a little disease hast foryetten my name. Wost thou not well that I am Loue, that first thee brought to thy seruice? O good Lady (qd. I) is this worship to thee, or to [Page 488] thyne excellence, for to come into so foule a place? Parde sometime tho I was in prosperitie, and with forraine goods enuolued, I had mokell to doen to drawe thee to mine hostell, and yet many wernings thou madest, ere thou lift fully to graunt, thine home to make at my dwelling place: and now thou commest goodly by thine owne vise, to comfort me with wordes, and so there through I ginne remember on passed gladnesse. Truly lady, I ne wote whether I shall say welcome or none, sithen thy comming woll as much do mee tene and sorrow, as gladnesse and mirth: see why. For that me comforteth to thinke on passed gladnesse, that me anoyeth eft to be in doing: thus thy comming both gladdeth and teneth, and that is cause of much sorrow: lo lady, howe then I am comforted by your comming: and with that I gan in tears is distill, and tenderly weepe. Now certes (qd. Loue) I see well (and that me overthinketh) that wit in thee fayleth, and art in point to dote. Truly (qd. I) that have ye maked, and that ever will I rue. Wotest thou not wel (qd. she) that every sheepheard ought by reason to seeke his sperkeland sheepe that arne ron into wildernesse, among bushes and perils, and hem to their pasture ayen bryng, and take of hem privie busie cure and keepping? And tho the unconning Sheep scattered, would been lost, renning to wildernesse, and to deserts draw, or els woulden put himself to the swallowing Wolfe, yet shall the shepheard, by businesse and trauaile, so put him forth, that he shall not let him be lost by no way. * A good sheepheard putteth rather his life to be lost for his sheepe.
But for thou shalt not wene me, being of werse condicion, truly for everiche of my folk, and for all tho that to me ward be knit in any condicion, I woll rather die than suffer hem through errour to been spilt. For me list, and it me liketh, of all mine a Shepheardesse to be cleaped. Wost thou not well, I failed never wight, but he me refused, and would negligently go with unkindnesse? And yet parde, have I many such holpe and releved, and they have oft me beguiled, but ever at the end it discended in their own necks. Hast thou not radde how kind I was to Paris, Priamus son of Troy? How Iason me falsed for all his fals behest? How Sesars sonke, I left it for no tene, till he was troned in my blisse for his service. What (qd. she) most of all, maked I not a love day betweene God and mankinde, and chese a maid to be nompere to put the quarell at end? Lo, how I have travailed to haue thanke on all sides, and yet list me not to rest, and I might find on whom I should werche. But truly, mine own disciple, because I have thee found at all assayes in thy will to be ready mine hestes to have followed, and hast ben true to that Margarite Pearle that ones I thee shewed, and she alway ayenward hath made but daungerous chear, I am come in proper persone to put thee out of errours, and make thee glad by wayes of reason, so that sorrow ne disease shall no more hereafter thee amaistrie. Wherethrough I hope, thou shalt lightly come to the grace that thou long hast desired of thilke Iewel. Hast thou not heard many ensamples, how I have comforted and releeved the schollers of my lore? Who hath worthied Kings in the field? Who hath honoured Ladies in houre, by a perpetuall mirror of their truth in my service? Who hath caused worthy folke to void vice and shame? Who hath hold cities and realms in prosperity? If thee lift cleape ayen thine olde remembraunce, thou coudest every poynt of this declare in especiall, and say that I thy maistres have be cause, causing these things, and many mo other.
Now iwis madame (qd. I) all these thyngs I know well my selfe, and that thyne excellence passeth the understanding of us beasts, and that no mannes wit yearthly may comprehend thy vertues. Well then (qd. she) for I see thee in disease and sorrow, I wote well thou art one of mine nories, I may not suffer thee so to make sorrow, thine owne selfe to shend: but I my self come to be thy fere, thine heavy charge to make to seem the lesse, for wo is him that is alone: * And to the sorry to been moned by a sorrowful wight, it is great gladnesse. Right so with my sick friendes I am sick, and with sorry, I cannot els but sorrow make, till when I have hem releeved, in such wise, that gladnesse in a maner of counterpaising shall restore as mokell in joy, as the passed heavinesse beforn did in tene. And also qd. she) when any of my servaunts been alone in solitary place, I have yet ever busied me to be with hem, in comfort of their hearts, and taught hem to make songs of plaint and of blisse, and to enditen letters of Rhethorike in queint understandings, and to bethinke hem in what wise they might best their Ladies in good service please, and also to learn maner in countenaunce, in words, and in bearing, and to ben meek and lowly to every wight, his name and fame to encrease, and to yeue great yefts and large, that his renome may springen: but thee thereof have I excused, for thy losse and great costages, wherethrough thou art needy, arne nothing to me unknowen, but I hope to God somtime it shall been amended, as thus, as I saied. In norture have I taught all mine, and in courtesie made hem expert their Ladies hearts to winne, and if any would endeynous, or proud, or be envious, or of wretches acquaintaunce, hasteliche have such voided out of my schoole: for all vices truly I hate: vertues and worthinesse in all my power I auaunce.
Ah worthy creature (qd. I) and by juste cause, the name of goddesse dignely ye mowe beat: in thee lithe the grace through which any creature in this worlde hath any goodnesse, truly all manner of blisse and preciousnesse in vertue out of thee springen, and wellen, as brookes and rivers procceden from [Page 489] their springs: and like as all waters by kind drawen to the sea, so all kindly thinges threst [...], by full appetite of desire, to drawe after thy steppes, and to thy presence approch, as to their kindely perfection: howe dare then beasts in this world aught forfete ayenst thy Divine purueighaunce? Also lady ye knowen all the privy thoughtes, in heartes no counsayle may been hidde from your knowynge. Wherefore I wate well Lady, that ye knowe your selfe, that I in my conscience am, and have been willyng to your service, all coud I never doe as I should, yet forsooth fayned I never to love otherwise than was in myne heart: & if I coud have made cheare to one, and ythought another, as many other done all day afore mine eyen, I trowe it would not me have vailed. Certes (qd. she) haddest thou so done, I would not now have thee here visited. Ye wete well Lady eke (qd. I) that I have not plaid raket, Nettle in, Docke out, & with the Weathercocke waved, and truly there ye me set, by accord of my conscience I would not fly, till ye and reason by apert strength maden mine hert to tourne.
In good faith (qd. she) I have knowe thee ever of tho conditions, & sithen thou wouldest (in as much as in thee was) a made mee privy of thy counsaile, and judge of thy conscience, though I forsoke it in tho dayes, till I saw better my time, would never God yt I should now faile, but ever I woll be ready, witnessing thy sooth, in what place that ever I shall, ayenst all tho that woll the contrary susteine: and for as much as to me is naught vnknowen, ne hid of thy privy heart, but all hast thou tho thynges made to mee open at the full, that hath caused my comming into this prison, to void the webbes of thyne eyen, to make thee clearely to see the errours thou hast been in: & because that men been of divers conditions, some adradde to say a sooth, and some for a sooth anone ready to fight, & also y• I may nor my selfe beene in place, to withsay thilke men that of thee speaken otherwise than the sooth, I woll and charge thee, in vertue of obedience that thou to mee dwest, to writen me wordes, and set hem in writings, that they mowe as my witnessing beene noted among the people. For bookes written neither dreden ne shamen, ne strive conne, but onely shewen the entent of y• w [...] ter, and yeve remembraunce to the hearer: & if any woll in thy presence say any thing to tho writers, looke boldly trust on Mars to answere at the full. For certes, I shall him enforme of all the trouth in thy love, with thy conscience, so that of his helpe thou shalt not vary at thy neede. I trowe the strongest and the best y• may be found, woll not transvers thy words, whereof then wouldest thou dreade.
GReatly was I tho gladded of these words, and as who saith, wexen somedele light in hert, both for the authority of witnesse, and also for sikernesse of helpe of the foresayd beheste, and said: Truly Lady now am I well gladded through comfort of your wordes, be it nowe liking vnto your nobly, to shewe which folke diffame your servants, sith your service ought above all other thynges to beene commended. Yet (qd. she) I see well thy soule is not all out of the amased cloud: thee were better to heare thing, that thee might light out of thine heavy charge, and after knowing of thine owne helpe, then to stirre sweet wordes, and suche reasons to heare: for in a thoughtfull soule (& namely such one as thou art) wol not yet such things sinken. Come of therefore, & let me seene thy heavy charge, that I may the lightlier for thy comfort purveigh.
Now certes Lady (qd. I) y• most comfort I might haue, were vtterly to w [...]te me bee sure in heart of that Margarite I serve, & so I thinke to done with all mights, while my life dureth. Then (qd she) mayst thou thereafter, in such wise that mispleasaunce ne enter? In good fayth (qd. I) there shall no mispleasance be caused through trespace on my side. And I doe thee to weten (qd. she) I set never yet persone to serve in no place (but if hee caused y• contrary in defaults and trespaces) that hee ne sped of his service. Mine owne yearthly lady (quod I tho) and yet remember to your worthinesse, how long sithen, by many revolving of yeares, in time when October his leave ginneth take, and November sheweth him to sight, when Bernes been ful of goods, as is the Qutte on every halke, & then good lond tillers ginneth shape for y• yearth, with great travayle to bring forth more Corne to mannes sustenaunce ayenst the next yeares following. In such time of plenty, hee that hath an home, and is wise, list not to wander mar vailes to seech, but he bee constrayned or excited: of the lothe thyng is done by excitation of other mannes opinion, whiche woulden fayne have myne abiding, take in heart of lust to travayle, and see the windyng of the yearth, in that time of Winter, by woodes that large streetes weren in, by small pathes, that Swine and Hogges hadden made, as lanes with ladels, there maste to seech, I walked thinking alone, a wonder great whyle, and the great beastes that the wood haunten and adorneth all maner forrests, and heards gone too wisd: then ere I was ware, I neighed to a sea bank, and for ferde of the beasts, shipcraft I cride: for lady I trow ye wete well your self, nothing is werse than the beastes, that should [...]n beene tame, if they catche her wisdnesse; and ginne again waxe ramage: Thus forsooth was I aferde, and to Shippe me hied. Then were there ynow to lach mine handes, and drawe me to Shippe, of which many I kn [...]we well the names. Sight was the first, Lust was another, Thought was y• thirde, and Will eke was there a Mayster: these broughten mee wythin boorde of this Shippe of travaile. So when the sayle was [Page 490] sprad, and this Ship gan to mooue, the Wind and Water gan for to rise, and ouerthwartly to tourn the Welkin, the wawes seemden as they kist together, but often vnder colour of kissing, is mokell old hate priuely closed and kept. The storm so strangely, and in a deuouring manner, gan so fast vs assail, that I supposed the date of my death should haue made there his ginning, now up, now down, now vnder the wawe, and now abouen, was my Shippe a great while. And so by mokell duresse of weathers, and of stormes, and with great auowing pilgrimages, I was driuen to an Isle, where vtterly I wend first to haue be rescowed, but truly at the first beginning, it seemed me so perillous, the hauen to catch, that but through grace I had been comforted, of life I was full despaired. Truly Lady, if ye remember aright of all manner things, your self came hastely to seen vs sea driuen, and to weten what we weren: but first ye were deignous of cheare, after which ye gone better alight, and euer as me thought ye liued in great dreade of disease, it seemed so by your chear. And when I was certified of your name, y• lenger I looked on you, y• more I you goodly dradde, and euer mine hert on you opened the more, & so in a little time my Ship was out of minde. But Lady as ye me lad, I was ware both of beastes and of fishes, a great number thronging togider: among which a Muskle in a blew shell had enclosed a Margarite Pearle, the most precious and best that euer toforne came in my sight, & ye tolden your self, that ilke iewel in his kind was so good & so vertuous, that her better should I neuer finde, all sought I thereafter to the worldes ende, and with yt I helde my peace a great whyle: and euer sithen I haue me bethought on the man, that sought the precious Margarites, and when he had founden one to his liking, he sold all his good to buy that iewel: Iwis, thought I, and yet so I thinke, now haue I founden the iewel that mine herte desireth, whereto should I seeche further, truly nowe wol I stint, and on this Margarite I set mee for euer. Now than also, sithen I wist wel it was your will, that I should to such a seruice me take, and so to desire that thing of which I neuer haue blisse, there liueth none, but he hath disease: your might then, that brought me to such seruice, that to me is cause of sorrow and of ioy, I wonder of your word that ye saine, to bringen men into ioy, & parde ye wote well, that default ne trespace may not reasonable been put to me wards, as fer as my conscience knoweth: but of my disease me list now a while to speak, & to enform you in what manner of blisse ye haue me throng. For truly I wene, that all gladnesse, all ioy, and all mirth is beshet vnder lock, and the key throw in such place, thet it may not bee found: my brenning, who hath, altered al my hew. When I should sleep, I wallow and I thinke, and mee disport. Thus combred, I seeme that all folk had me mased. Also lady mine, desire hath long dured, some speaking to haue, or els at y• least, haue been enmoised with sight: & for wanting of these things, my mouth would, and he durst, plein right sore, sithen euils for my goodnesse arn manyfold to me holden. I wonder Lady truly, saue euermore your reuerence, how ye mow for shame such things suffer on your seruaunt, to be so multiplied: wherefore kneelyng with a low heart, I pray you to rue on his caytife, that of nothing now may serue. Good Lady, if you list now your help to me shew, that am of your pryuiest seruauntes, at all assays in this time, and vnder your wynges of protection. No help to me wards is shapen, how shall then straungers in any wyse after succour looke, when I that am so pryuie, yet of helpe I doe fayle? Further maye I not, but thus in this prisone abide: what bondes and chaynes me holden, Ladie ye see well your self? A reniant foriudged hath not half the care. But thus sighyng and sobbyng I waile here alone, and nere it for comfort of your presence, ryght here would I sterue. And yet a little am I gladded, that so goodly such grace, and none happe haue I hent, graciouslye to finde the precyous Margarite, that all other left, menne should buye, if they should therefore sell all her substaunce. Wo is me, that so many let games, and purpose breakers, beene maked wayters, such prysoners as I am, euermore to ouerlooke and to hinder, and for such lettours, it is hard any such iewell to winne. Is this lady an honour to thy deity? Me thynketh by ryght, suche people shoulde haue no maystry, ne been ouerlookers ouer none of thy seruauntes. * Truely were it leful unto you, to all the goddes would I playne, that ye rule your Diuine purueighaunce amonges your seruauntes, nothynge as yee shoulde. Also Ladye, my moeble is insuffisaunte to counteruayle the price of this iewell, or els to make the eschaunge: eke no wight is worthy such pearls to weare, but Kings or Princes, or els their peers: This iewell for vertue, woulde adorne and make fayre all a realme, the nobley of vertue is so much, that her goodnesse ouer all is commended. Who is it that would not waile, but he might such riches haue at his will, the vertue thereof out of this prison may me deliuer, & nought els. And if I be not therethorowe holpen, I see my self withouten recouery: although I might hence void, yet would I not, I would abide the day that desteny hath me ordeined, which I suppose is without amendment, so sore is mine heart bounden, that I may thinken none other. Thus straight (Lady hath sir Daunger laced me in stocks, I leue it be not your will: & for I see you taken so little heed, as me thinketh, and woll not maken by your might the vertue in mercy of the Margarite, on me for to stretch, so as ye mow well, in case that you list: my blisse & my mirth arn felde, [Page 491] sickenesse and sorrow been alway ready, the cope of tene is wound about all my body, that standing is mee best, vnneth may I ligge for pure miseasie sorrow, and yet all this is little ynough to be the earnest siluer in forward of this bargain, for treble fold, so mokell must I suffer, er time come of mine ease. * For he is worthie no wealth, that may no woe suffer. And certes, I am heauie to think on these things, but who shall yeue me water ynough to drink, least mine eyen drie for renning streames of teares? Who shall waylen with mee myne own happie heavinesse? Who shall counsayle mee now in my liking tene, and in my goodly harse? I not. For euer the more I brenne, the more I coveit: the more that I sorrow, the more thirst I in gladnesse. Who shall then yeue me a contrarious drink, to staunch the thurst of my blisfull bitternesse? Lo thus I bren and I drench, I shiuer and sweat, to this reuersed yuell was neuer yet ordained salue, forsoth all leches ben vnconning, saue the Margarite alone, any such remedy to puruey.
And with these words I brast out to weep, that euery tear of mine eyen for greatnesse semed they boren out the ball of my sight, and that all the water had been outronne. Then thought me, that loue gan a litle too heauy for miscomfort of my chear, and gan soberly and in easie manner speak, well auising what she said. * Commonly the wise speaken easily and soft for many skils: One is, their wordes are the better beleeued, and also in easie speaking, auisement men may catch, what to put forth, and what to holden in. And also the authoritie of easie wordes is the more, and eke they yeuen the more vnderstanding to other intention of the matter. Right so this Ladie easily and in a soft manere gan say these wordes.
Meruayle (qd. she) great it is, that by no manner of semblaunt, as ferre as I can espie, thou list not to haue any recour, but euer thou playnest and sorrowest, and ways of remedy for foolish wilfulnesse thee list not to seech: but enquire of thy next friends, that is thine inwit, and mee that haue ben thy maistresse, and the recour and fine of thy disease, for of disease is gladnesse and joy, with a full vessell so helded, that it quencheth the feeling of the first tenes. But thou that were wont not only these things remember in thine heart, but also fools thereof to enfourmen, in adnulling of their errours, and in destroying of their derk opinions, and in comfort of their sear thoughts: now canst thou not been comfort of thine own soul, in thinking of these things. O where hast thou be so long commensall, that hast so mikell eaten of the potages of foryetfulnesse, and dronken so of ignoraunce, that the old souking, which thou haddest of mee, arne a maistred and lorne fro all manner of knowing? O this is a worthy person to helpe other, that cannot counsaile himself. And with these wordes for pure and strong shame I wox all reed.
And she then seeing mee so astonied by divers stounds, suddainly (which thing kind hateth) gan deliciously me comfort with sugred words, putting me in full hope, that I should y• Margarite getten, if I followed her hests, and gan with a fair cloth to wipen the tears that hingen on my cheeks: and then said I in this wise. Now well of wisedom and of all welth, withouten thee may nothing ben learned, thou bearest the keys of all priuie things. In vain trauail men to catch any stedship, but if ye lady first the lock vnshet, ye lady learn vs the ways and the bypaths to heauen: ye lady maken all the heauenly bodies goodly and benignely to done her course, that gouernen vs beasts here on earth. Ye armen your seruaunts ayenst all debates, with imperciable harneis, ye setten in her herts insuperable blood of hardnesse, ye leaden hem to the parfit good. Yet all thing desireth, ye werne no man of help, that wele done your lore, grant me now a little of your grace, all my sorrows to cease. Mine own seruant (qd. she) truly thou sittest nie mine hert, and thy bad chere gan sorely me greue: but among thy plaining words, me thought thou alledgest things to be letting of thine helping, and thy grace to hinder, wherethrough me thinketh that wanhope is crope through thine hert: God forbid that nice vnthriftie thought should come in thy mind thy wits to trouble, sithen euery thing in coming is contingent, wherefore make no more thy proposition by an impossible. But now I pray thee rehearse me ayen tho things, that thy mistrust causen, and thilk things I think by reason to distroyen, and put full hope in thine hert. What vnderstandest thou there (qd. she) by that thou saidest, many let games are thine ouerlookers? And also by that thy moeble is insuffisaunt? I not what thou thereof meanest.
Truly (qd. I) by the first, I say that janglers euermore arn speaking rather of euil than of good, for euery age of man rather enclineth to wickednesse, than any goodnesse to advance. Also false words springen so wide, by the stering of false lying tongues, that fame als swiftly flieth to her ears, and faith many wicked tales, and as soon shall falsenesse ben leued, as trouth, for all his great sothnesse. Now by that other (qd. I) me thinketh thilk jewel so precious, that to no such wretch as I am, would vertue thereof extend, and also I am too feeble in worldly joys, any such jewel to countreuail. For such people that worldly joys han at her will, been set at the highest degree, and most in reuerence ben accepted, for false wening maketh felicity therein to be supposed: but such caitiues as I am euermore ben hindred. Certes (qd. she) take good heed, and I shall by reason to thee shewen, that all these things mow not let thy purpose, by the least point that any wight coude prick.
[Page 492] REmembrest nat (qd. she) ensample is one of the strongest maner, as for to preue a mannes purpose. Then if I nowe by ensample enduce thee to any proposition, is it nat proued by strength? Yes forsooth, qd. I. Well, qd. she, raddest thou neuer how Paris of Troy and Helaine loued togider, and yet had they not entrecommuned of speech? Also Acrisius shete Dane his doughter in a toure, for suertie that no wight should of her haue no maistrie in my service, and yet Iupiter by signes, without any speech, had all his purpose ayenst her fathers will. And many such mo haue been knitte in trouth, and yet spake they neuer togider, for that is a thyng enclosed vnder secretnesse of priuitie, why twey persons entremellen herts after a sight. The power in knowing of such things so preuen shall nat all vtterly be yeuen to you beasts, for many things in such precious matters, been reserued to iudgement of diuine purueyaunce, for among liuyng people, by mannes consideration mowen they not be determined. Wherefore I say, all the envye, all y• iangling, that welnie people vpon my seruaunts maken efte, is rather cause of esploite, than of any hindering. Why then qd. I, suffer ye such wrong, and moun when ye list, lightly all such yuels abate? me seeineth to you it is a great vnworship. O, qd. she, hold now thy peace, I haue founden too many that han been to me vnkind, y• truly I woll suffer euery wight in that wise to haue disease, & who that continue to the ende well and truly, hem woll I helpen, and as for one of myne into blisse to wend, as martial doing in Greece. Who was ycrowned, by GOD nat the strongest, but he that rathest come and lengest abode & continued in the iourney, and spared nat to trauayle as long as the play lest. But thilke persons that profered him nowe to my seruice therein, is a while, & anone voydeth, and ready to another, and of now one he thinketh, and nowe another, and into water entreth, and anone respireth, suche one liste mee nat into parfite blisse of my seruice bryng. * A tree oft set in diuers places, woll not by kinde endure to bring forth fruits. Looke nowe I pray thee, howe myne olde seruauntes of time passed continued in her seruice, and follow thou after their steppes, and then myght thou not fayle, in case thou worche in this wise. Certes, qd. I, it is nothing liche, this worlde to time passed, eke this country hath one manner, & another countrey hath another. And so maye nat a man alwaye put to his eye, the salue that hee healed with his heele: For this is sooth, betwyxe two thynges lyche, oft diuersitie is required. Now, qd. she, that is soothe, diuersitie of nation, diuersitie of lawe, as was maked by manye reasons, for that diuersitie commeth in by the contrarious malice of wicked people, that han envious heartes ayenst other. But truely my lawe to my seruauntes euer hath been in general, whiche may not fayle: for ryght as mannes lawe, that is ordeined by many determinations, may not be knowne for good or badde, till assay of the people han proued it, and to what end it draweth, and then it sheweth the necessitie thereof, or els the impossibilitie: right so ye law of my seruaunts so well hath been proued in general, that hitherto hath it not fayled. Wist thou not well, that all the lawe of kinde is my lawe, and by God ordayned & establyshed to dure by kynde reasoun: wherefore all lawe, by mannes wit purveied, ought to be vnderput to lawe of kinde, whych yet hath be commune to euerye kindely creature, that my statutes and my lawes that been kyndely, arne generall to all peoples. * Old doyngs, and by many turnings of years vsed, & with the peoples manner proued, mowen not so lightly been defaced, but new doings contrariaunts such old, often causen diseases, and breaken many purposes. Yet say I nat therefore, that ayen new mischeef, men should not ordaine a newe remedie, but alway looke it contrary not y• old, no ferther than the mallice stretcheth. Then followeth it, y• olde doings in loue han ben vniuersal, as for most exploit for thee vsed: Wherefore I wold not yet that of my lawes nothing be annulled.
But then to thy purpose, such iangelers and lookers, & wayters of games, if they think in ought they mowe dere, yet loue well alway, & set hem at nought, & let thy port been low in euery wights presence, & readie in thine heart to maintaine that thou hast begonne, & a little thee fayne with meeknesse in wordes, and thus with sleight shalt thou surmount & dequace the yuel in their herts. * And wisdome yet is to seme flie otherwhyle there a man woll fight. Thus with suche thyngs the tongues of euil shall been stilled: els fully to graunt thy full meaning, forsooth euer was & euer it shall be, that mine enemies been aferde to trust to any fighting: & therefore haue thou no cowards heart in my seruice, no more than sometime thou haddest in y• contrary, for if thou drede such ianglers thy voyage to make: vnderstand well, That he y• dreadeth any raine to sow his cornes, he shall haue thin bernes: also he that is afearde of his clothes, let him daunce naked: Who nothing vndertaketh, and namely in my seruice, nothing atcheueth: After great stormes y• weather is often merry & smooth. * After much clattering, there is mokell rowning: thus after iangling wordes commeth huisht, peace, and be still. O good lady, qd. I then, see now how seuen yeare passed, & more, haue I graffed & groubed a vine, and wyth all the ways that I could, I sought to a fede me of y• grape, but fruit haue I none found. Also I haue this seuen year serued Laban to a wedded Rachel his doughter, but blear eyed Lia is brought to my bed, which alway engendereth my tene, and is full of children in tribulation and in care: and although the [Page 493] clippynges and kissyngs of Rachell shoulde seeme to me sweet, yet is she so barraine, yt gladnesse ne ioy by no way wol spring, so yt I may weep with Rachell, I may not been counsayled with sollace, sithen issue of myne heartely desire is fayled. Now then I pray that to me sone freedom and grace in thys eight yeare, this eyghteth mow to me both by kynreste and masseday after these seauen werke daies of trauaile, to follow the christen lawe: and what euer ye doe els, that thilke Margarite be holden so lady in your pryuye chamber, that she in this case to none other person be committed. Look then, qd. she, in this case to none other person be committed: Look then, qd. she, thou perseuer in my seruice, in which I haue thee grounded, yt thilke scorne in thy enemies mowe thus on thy person be not soothed: lo this man began to edifie, but for his foundement is bad, to the end may he it nat bring. For meeknesse in countenaunce, with a manly heart in deeds & in long continuance, is the conisance of my livery, to all my retinue deliuered. What wenest thou yt me list aduaunce such persons as louen ye first sittings at feasts, ye highest stoles in churches, and in hall, loutings of peoples in markets and fairs, vnstedfast to bide in one place any while together, wening his own wit more excellent than other, scorning all manner device but his owne? Nay, nay, God wote, these shall nothing parten of my blysse. Truely my manner heretoforne hath beene, worship with my blisse, * Lions in the field, and Lambes in chamber, Eagles at assaute, and Maidens in hall, Foxes in counsaile, still in their deeds, and their protection is graunted ready to been a bridge, and their banner is ar [...]ered like Wolves in the field. Thus by these ways shull men been auaunced: ensample of David, yt from keeping of sheepe was drawn vp into the order of kingly gouernaunce, and Iupiter from a bulle to beene Europes fere, and Iulius Cesar from the lowest degree in Rome to be maister of all earthly princes, and Eneas from hell to be King of the countrey, there Rome is now stonding. And so to thee I say thy grace by bering thereafter, may set thee in such plight, that no iangling may greeue the leaste tucke of thy hems, that all their iangles is nought to counte at a cresse in thy disaduantage.
EVer, qd. she, hath the people in this worlde desired to haue had great name in worthinesse, and hated foule to beare any fame, and that is one of the obiections thou alledgest to be ayen thine hertely desire. Ye forsooth, qd. I, and that so commonly the people woll lie and bring about such enfame. Nowe, quod she, if men with leasinges put on the enfame, wenest thy selfe thereby been enpeired? y• wening is wrong, see why, for as much as they lyen thy Merite encreaseth, and make thee ben more worthy to hem that knowen of thee the sooth, by what thing thou art apeired, that in so mokell thou art encreased of thy beloued friends: & soothly, a wound of thy friend to the lasse harm, yea sir, and better than a false kissing in deceiuable glosing of thyne enemie, aboue that then to be well with thy friende, maketh such enfame, Ergo thou art encreased and nat apeired. Lady, qd. I, sometyme yet if a man be in disease, ye estimation of the enuious people ne looketh nothing to deserts of men, ne to ye merites of their doings, but only to the auenture of fortune, and thereafter they yeuen their sentence. And some looken the voluntary will in his heart, & therafter telleth his iudgement, not taking heed to reason ne to the qualitie of the doing, as thus: if a man be rich & fulfild with worldly welefulnesse, some commenden it, & saine it is so lent by iust cause, and he yt hath aduersitie, they saine he is weaked, & hath deserued thilke annoy. The contrary of these things some men holden also, and saine that to yt rich, prosperitie is purveied vnto his confusion: & vpon this matter, many authorities of many & great witted clearkes they allegen. And some mensayne, though all good estimation forsaken folke yt han aduersitye, yet is it merite and encrease of his blysse: so that these purposes arne so wonderful in vnderstanding, that truly for mine aduersitie, now I not how the sentence of ye indifferent people will iudgen my fame. Therefore, qd. she, if any wight should yeue a true sentence on such matters, ye cause of the disease mayst thou see well, vnderstand thereupon after what end it draweth, yt is to sayne, good or bad, so ought it to haue his fame, or by goodnesse enfame by badnesse: For euery reasonable persone, & namely of a wise man, his wit ought not without reason toforne heard, suddainly in a matter to iudge. After ye saws of the wise, thou shalt not iudge ne deme toforne thou know. Lady, qd. I, ye remember well, that in most laud & praising of certain saints in holy church, is to rehearsen their conuersation from bad into good, and that is so rehersed, as by a perpetual mirrour of remembraunce in worshipping of tho saintes, and good ensample to other misdoers in amendment. How turned the Roman Zedeories fro the Romans, to be with Hannibal ayenst his kind nation: And afterwards him seeming the Romaines to be at ye next degree of confusion, turned to his old allies, by whose wit after was Hannibal discomfited. Wherfore to enforme you lady, the manner, why I mean, see now now in my youth I was draw to be assentaunt, and in my mights helpyng to certaine coniurations, & other great matters of ruling of citezins, & thilke thynges beene my drawers in, and excitours to tho matters werne so painted & coloured, that at the prime face me seemed then noble and glorious to all ye people: I then wening mikell merite, haue deserued in furthering and maintenaunce of tho thyngs, busied and laboured [Page 494] with all my diligence, in werkyng of thilke matters to the end. And truly lady, to tell you ye sooth, me rought little of any hate of the mighty Senatours in thilke city, ne of communes mallice, for two skilles: One was, I had comfort to ben in such plite, that both profite were to me and to my friends: Another was, for common profit in communalty, is not but peace & tranquility, with just gouernaunce proceden from thilke profite, sithen by counsail of mine inwit, me thought the first paynted thynges, mallice and euill meanyng, withouten any good avaylyng to any people, and of tyranny purposed: and so for pure sorrow and of my meddling, and bad infame that I was in ronne, tho teares lashed out of mine eyen, were thus away washe, than the vnderhyd mallice and the rancour of purposing envy, fornecaste and ymagined, in destruction of mokel people shewed so openly, that had I been blind, with myne handes all the circumstaunce I might well have feeled.
Now then tho persones that such thinges have cast to redresse, for wrath of my firste meddling, shopen me to dwell in this pynande prison, till Lachases my threade no lenger would twyne. And ever I was sought, if me list to have grace of my life, and freenesse of that prison, I shoulde openly confesse howe peace might been enduced to enden all y• first rancours. It was fully supposed my knowing to be full in tho matters. Then Lady I thought that every man, that by any way of right, rightfully done, may helpe any commune helpe to been saved, which thynge to keepe above all thinges I am holde to maintaine, & namely in destroying of a wrong, al should I therethrough enpeach myne owne fere, if he were guilty, & to do misdeed assentaunt. And maister ne friend may nought avayle to the soule of hym that in falsenesse deyeth, and also that I nere desired wrath of the people, ne indignation of the worthy, for nothyng that ever I wrought or did, in any doings my selfe els, but in y• mayntenaunce of these foresayd errours, and in hidyng of the privities thereof. And that all the peoples hearts holdyng on the errours side, weren blind, and of elde so ferre forth beguiled, yt debate and strife they maintayned, and in distruction on that other side, by whyche cause, the peace, that most in communalties should be desired, was in point to bee broken and annulled. Also the city of London, that is to me so deare and sweet, in which I was forth growne, and more kindely love have I to y• place, than to any other in yearth, as every kindely creature hath full appetite to that place of his kindely engendrure, and to wilne reste and peace in that steede to abide: thilke peace should thus there have been broken, which of all wise is commended and desired. * For know thing it is, all men that desiren to commen to y• parfit peace everlasting, must y• peace by God commended, both maintain and keepe. This peace by angels voyce was confirmed, our God entring in this world: This, as for his testament, he left to all his friends, when he retourned to the place from whence he came: This his Apostle admonesteth to holden, without which man parfitely may have none insight. Also this God by his coming made not peace alone between heauenly and earthly bodies, but also among us on earth, so he peace confirmed, that in one heed of love one body we shoulde perfourm. Also I remember me well, how the name of Athens was rather after the GOD of peace than of battaile, shewing that peace most is necessary to Communalties and Cities. I then so stered by all these ways toforne nempned, declared certain points in this wise. First that thilke persons that hadden mee drawen to their purposes, and me not witting the privy entent of their meaning, drawen also the feeble witted people, that have none insight of gubernatife prudence, to clamure and to cry on matters that they stirred, & under points for commune auantage, they embolded the passife to take in the actives doing, and also stirred innocents of conning to cry after things, which (qd. they) may not stand but we ben executours of tho matters, & authority of execution by common election to us be delivered, & that must enter by strength of your maintenaunce, for we out of such degree put, oppression of these old hinderers shall agayn surmounten and putten you in such subjection, that in endlesse woe ye shull complain. The governments (qd. they) of your citie, left in the hands of torcencious citizens, shal bring in pestilence and distruction to you good men, and therefore let us have y• commune administration to abate such yuels. Also (qd. they) * It is worthy the good to commend, and thy guilty deserts to chastice. There been citizens many for ferd of execution that shall be done, for extortions by hem committed, been evermore ayenst these purposes, and all other good meanings. Never the latter, Lady, truly the meaning under these words, was fully to have appeached the mighty Senators which hadden heavy heart for the misgovernaunce that they seen. And so Lady, when it fell that free election, by great clamour of much people for great disease of misgovernaunce so fervently stooden in her election, yt they hem submitted to every manner face, rather than have suffred the manner & the rule of the hated governours, notwithstanding that in the contrary helden much commune meiny that have no consideration, but only to voluntary lusts withouten reason. But then thilke governour so forsaken, fayning to scorn his undoing, for misrule in his time, shope to have letted thilke election, and have made a newe himself to have been chosen, and under that mokell rore have arered. These things Lady knowen among the Princes, and made open to the people, draweth in amendment, that every degree shall ben ordained to stand there [Page 495] as he should, and that of errors coming hereafter, men may lightly toforn hand puruay remedy in this wise, peace and rest to be furthered and hold. Of the which things Lady, thilk persons broughten in answere toforne their most soueraigne judge, not coarted by paining dures openly knowledgeden, and asked thereof grace, so that apertly it preveth my wordes been sooth, without forging of leasings.
But now it greueth me to remember these diuers sentences, in jangling of these sheepie people: certes, me thinketh they oughten to maken joy that a sooth may be knowe. For my trouth and my conscience been witnesse to me both, that this knowing soothe haue I said, for no harm ne malice of tho persons, but only for trouth of my sacrament in my liegeaunce, by which I was charged on my Kings behalf. But see ye not now Lady, how the fellonous thoughts of this people, and couins of wicked men, conspiren ayen my soothfast trouth. See ye not euery wight that to these erronious opinions were assentaunt, and helps to the noise, and knewen all these things better than I my seluen, apparailen to finden new friends, and cleapen me false, and studien how they mowen in her mouthes werse plite nempne? O God, what may this be, that thilk folk which that in time of my maintenance, & when my might auayleth to stretch to the foresaid matters, tho me commended, and yaue me name of trouth, in so manifold maners, that it was nigh in euery wights ear, there as any of thilk people weren: and on the other side, thilk company sometime passed, yeuing me name of bad loos. Now both tho peoples turned the good into bad, and bad into good, which thing is wonder, that they knowing me saying but soth, arn now tempted to reply her old praisings, and knowen me well in all doings to ben trew, and sain openly that I false haue said many things. And they alleaged nothing me to been false or vntrew, saue thilk mater knowledged by the parties hemself: and God wot other mater is none. Ye also Lady know these things for trew, I auaunt not in praysing of my self, thereby should I lese the precious secre of my conscience. But ye see well that false opinion of the people for my trouth, in telling out of false conspired maters, and after the judgment of these Clerks I should not hide the sooth of no maner person, maister ne other, wherefore I would not drede, were it put in the consideracion of trew and of wise. And for comers hereafter shullen fully out of denwere, all the soth know of these things in act, but as they wern, I haue put it in Scripture, in perpetuell remembrance of true meaning. For truly Lady me seemeth that I ought to bear the name of trouth, that for the loue of rightwisenesse haue thus me submitten: But now then the false fame which that Clerks sain flieth as fast as doth the fame of trouth, shall so wide sprede, till it be brought to the jewell that I of mean, and so shall I been hindred withouten any measure of trouth.
THen gan Loue sadly me behold, and said in a chaunged voice, lower than she had spoken in a time. Fain would I (qd. she) that thou were holpen, but hast thou said any thing, which thou might not prouen? Pardee (qd. I) the persons euery thing as I haue said, han knowleged hemself. Yea (qd. she) but what if they hadden naied, how wouldest thou haue mainteined it? Soothly (qd. I) it is well wist both amongst the greatest, and other of the Realm, that I profered my body so largely in to prouing of tho things, that Mars should haue judged thend: but for sothnesse of my words they durst not to thilk judg trust. Now certes (qd. she) aboue all fames in this world, the name of marciall doings most pleasen to Ladies of my lore, but sithen thou were ready, and thine aduersaries in thy presence refused thilk doing, thy fame ought to be so born, as if in deed it had take to the end. And therefore euery wight that any drop of reason hath, and heareth of the infame, for these things hath this answer to say: trewly thou saidest, for thine aduersaries thy words affirmed. And if thou haddest lied, yet are they discomfited, the prise leaned on thy side, so that fame shall hold down infame, he shall bring vpon none half. What greueth thee thine enemy to sain their own shame, as thus: We arn discomfited and yet our quarell is trew. Shall not the loos of thy frends, ayenward dequace thilk enfame, and say they graunted a sooth without a stroke or fighting. Many men in battell been discomfited and ouercome in a rightfull quarrel, that is goddes priuy judgement in heauen: but yet although the party be yolden, he may with words say his quarrell is trew, and to yeeld him in the contrary for dread of death, he is compelled, and he that graunted and no stroke hath feled, he may not creep away in this wise by none excusacion. Indifferent folk will say, ye who is trew, who is false himself knowledgeth tho things. Thus in euery side fame sheweth to thee good and no bad. But yet (qd. I) some will say I ne should for no deth haue discouered my maistresse, and so by vnkindnesse they woll knet infame to pursue me about: thus enemies of will in manifold maner woll sech priuy serpentines queintises, to quench & distroy by venime of many businesses, the light of trouth, to make herts to murmour ayenst my person, to haue me in hain, withouten any cause. Now (qd. she) hear me a few words, and thou shalt fully been aunswered, I trow. Me thinketh (qd. she) right now by thy words that Sacrament of swearing, that is to say, charging by Othe, was one of the causes to make thee discouer the malicious imaginacions tofore nempned: euery othe by knitting [Page 496] of copulation, must haue these lawes, that is, trewe iudgment and rightwisenesse, in which thyng, if any of these lacke, the oth is iturned into the name of periury: then to make a true serment, must needs these things follow, for ofte tymes a man to say soothe, but iudgement and iustice folow, he is forsworne: ensample of Herodes for holding of his serment, was dampned.
Also to say trouth rightfullithe, but in judgment, other whyle is forboden, by that all sothes be not to saine. Therefore in judgement in trouth and rightwisenesses, is euery creature bounden vpon payne of periury full knowing to make, though it were of his own person, for dread of sinne, after that word better is it to die than liue false: and al would peruerted people, false report make in vnkindnes, in y• entent thy fame to reise, when light of truth in these matters is forth sprongen, and openly published among commons, then shall not soch dark enfame dare appear for pure shame of his falsnesse, as some men there been that their own enfame, can none otherwise void or els excuse, but by hindring of other mens fame, which that by none other cause cleapen other mens false, but for with their own falsnesse, mowen they not been avaunsed: or els by false sclaundring words, other men shendin their own true sclaunder, to make seem the lasse, for if soch men woulden their iyen of their conscience reuoluen, shoulden seen the same sentence they legen on other, spring out of their sides, with so many branches, it were impossible to number: to which therefore may it be said in that thing, this man thou demest, therein thy self thou condempnest. But (qd. she) vnderstand not by these words, that thou wene me say thee, to be worthy sclander, for any matter tofore written, truly I would witnesse the contrary, but I say that the beames of sclaundring words may not been done away, till the day of dome. For how should it not yet amongs so great plenty of people, been many shrews, sithen when no mo but eight persons, in Noes ship were closed, yet one was a shrew, and scorned his father. These things (qd. she) I trow, shewen that false fame is not to drede, ne of wise persons to accept, and namely not of thy Margarite, whose wisedom hereafter I think to declare, wherefore I wote well soch thing shall not her astert, then of vnkindnesse, thine othe hath thee excused at the full. But now if thou wouldst not greue, me list a few things to shew. Say on (qd. I) what ye wol, I trow ye mean but trouth, and my profit in time coming. Truly (qd. she) that is soth, so thou con well keep these words, and in the inrest secret chamber of thine hert, so fast hem close, that they neuer flitt, then shalt thou find hem auailing. Look now what people hast thou serued, which of hem all in time of thine exile euer thee refreshed, by the value of the least coigned plate that walketh in money. Who was sory, or made any ruth for thy disease? If they hadden getten their purpose of thy mi [...]aventure, set they not an haw. Lo when thou were enprisoned, how fast they hied in help of thy deliueraunce. I wene of thy death, they yeue but lite: They looked after no thing, but after their own lusts. And if thou list say the sothe, all that meinie that in this brigge thee broughten, lokeden rather after thine helps, than thee to haue releued.
Owen not yet some of hem money for his commons? Paidest not thou for some of her dispences, till they were tourned out of Seland? Who yaue thee euer ought, for any riding thou madest? Yet pardie, some of hem tooken money for thy Chamber, and put tho pens in his pourse, vnweting of the renter.
Lo, for which a company thou medlest, that neither thee, ne them self mighten help of vnkindnesse, now they bear the name, that thou supposest of hem for to haue. What might thou more haue done, than thou diddest, but if thou wouldest in a false quarell, haue been a stinking martire? I wene thou fleddest as long as thou might, their priuitie to conceal, which thing thou helest lenger then thou shouldest. And thilk that ought thee money, no pennie would pay, they wend thy return had been an impossible. How might thou better haue hem proued, but thus in thy needy diseases? Now hast thou ensample, for whom thou shalt meddle: truly this lore is worth many goodes.
OFt gan loue to stern me these words, think on my speach, for truely hereafter, * it woll do thee liking, and how so euer thou see fortune shape her whele to turne, this meditacion by no way reuolue. For certes, Fortune sheweth her fayrest, when she thinketh to beguile. And as me thought here toforne, thou saidest thy loos in loue, for thy rightwisenesse ought to be raysed, should be allowed in time coming: thou might in loue so thee haue, that loos and fame shull so been raysed, that to thy freends comfort, and sorow to thine enemies, endlesse shull endure.
But if thou were that one Sheep amongs the hundred, were lost in desert, and out of the way had erred, and now to the flock art restored, the Shepeheard hath in thee no joy, and thou ayen to the Forrest tourn. But that right as the sorrow and anguish was great, in time of thine out way going, right so joy and gladnesse shall be doubled, to seen thee conuerted, and not as Lothes wife ayen looking, but hoole counsail with the Sheep folowing, and with them grasse and hearbs gader. Neuer the later (qd. she) I say not these things for no wantrust that I haue, in supposing of thee otherwise than I should: for truely I wote well, that now thou art sette in soche a purpose, out of which thee list not to part: But I say it, for many men there ben that to knowing of other mens doings setten all their cure, and lightly desiren [Page 497] the bad to clatter, rather than the good, and haue no will their owne manner to amende. They also hate of old rancour lightly hauen, and there that soch thing abideth, sodainly in their mouths proceedeth the haboundance of the herte, and words as stones, stones out throw. Wherfore my counsaile is euermore, openly and apertly, in what place thou sitte, counterplete therrours and meanings, in as far as thou hem wistest false, and leaue for no wight, to make hem be know in euery bodies eare: & be alway patient, and vse Iacobs words, what so euer men of thee clappen, I shall sustain my Ladies wrath, which I haue deserued, so long as my Margarite hath rightwised my cause. And certes (qd. she) I witnesse my self, if thou thus conuerted, sorrowest in good meaning in thine herte, wolt from all vanity parfitely depart, in consolacion of al good pleasaunce of that Margarite, which that thou desirest after will of thyne herte, in a manner of a mothers pity, shul fully accept thee into grace. For right as thou rentest clothes in open sight, so openly to sow hem at his worshyp, withouten reproofe commended: Also, right as thou were ensample of moch fold error, right so thou must be ensample of manifold correction, so good fauour to forgoing all error destroying, causeth diligent loue with many plaited praysings to follow, and then shall all the first errours make the following worships to seeme hugely encreased, black and white set togider, euery for other more seemeth, and so dothe euery things contrary in kind. But infame that goeth alway tofore, and praysing worship by any cause following after, maketh to rise thilk honour, in double of wealth, and that quencheth the spot of the first enfame. Why wenest I say these things, in hindering of thy name? Nay nay God wot, but for pure encreasing worship, thy rightwisenesse to commend, and thy trouth to seem the more. Woste not well thy selfe, that thou inform of making, passeth not Adam that eate of the apple. Thou passeth not the stedfastnesse of Noe, y• eating of the grape became dronke. Thou passeth not the chastity of Lothe, that lay by his doughter. Eke the nobly of Abraham, whom God reproued by his pryde. Also Dauids meeknesse, which for a woman made Vry be slaw. What also Hector of Troy, in whom no defaut might be found: yet is he reproued that he ne had with manhood not suffred the warre begon, ne Paris to haue went into Grece, by whom gan all the sorow: for * truly him lacketh no venime of priuy consenting, which y• openly leaueth a wrong to withsay. Lo eke an old prouerbe, among many other. * He that is still, seemeth as he graunted.
Now by these ensamples, thou might fully vnderstand, that these things been writ to your learning, & in rightwisenes of tho persones, as thus: To euery wight his default committed, made goodnesse afterwards done be the more in reuerence, and in open shewing, for ensample is it not songe in holy church? Lo how necessary was Adams sin, Dauid the king gat Salomon the king, of her that was Vries wife. Truly for reproof is none of these things writte: Right so tho I rehearse thy before deed, I repreue thee neuer the more, ne for no villany of thee are they rehearsed, but for worship, so thou continue well hereafter: and for profite of thy self, I rede thou on hem thinke.
Then saied I right thus: Lady of unity and accorde, enuy & wrath lurken there thou commest in place, ye weten well your selue & so done many other, y• while I administred the office of common doing, as in ruling of y• establishments amongs y• people, I defouled neuer my conscience for no maner deede, but euer by wit & by counsaile of the wisest, the matters weren drawen to their right endes. And thus truly for you Lady, I haue desired soch cure, & certes in your seruice was I not idle, as far as soch doing of my cure stretcheth. That is a thing (qd. she) yt may draw many hertes of noble, & voice of common into glory, and fame is not but wretched and fickle.
Alas, that mankind coueteth in so leud a wise, to be rewarded of any good deed, sith glory of Fame in this world, is not but hindering of glory in time comming. And certes, qd. she, yet at y• hardest such fame into heauen is not the yearth but a centre to the cercle of heuen. A pricke is wonderful little in respect of all the cercle, & yet in all this prick may no name be born in manner of persing, for many obstacles, as waters and wildernesse, and straunge languages, & not onely names of men ben stilled & holden out of knowledging by these obstacles, but also cities and realms of prosperity ben letted to be know, and their reason hindred, so that they mowe not ben perfitely in mens proper vnderstanding. How should then the name of a singuler Londenoys passe the glorious name of London, which by many it is commended, and by many it is lacked, and in many mo places in earth not knowen, then knowen: for in many countrees little is London in knowing, or in speach, and yet among one manner of people may not soch fame in goodnesse come, for as many as praisen commonly as many lacken. Fie then on soch maner fame, sleep and suffre him that knoweth priuity of hertes, to deale soch fame in thilke place, there nothing ayenst a soth shall neither speake, ne dare appere, by atturney, ne by other maner. How many great named, & many great in worthinesse losed, han be tofore this time, yt now out of memory are slidden, & cleanly forgetten, for defaute of writings, & yet scriptures for great elde so been defased, that no perpetualty may in hem been judged. But if thou wolt make comparison to euer, wt joy mayst thou haue in yearthly name it is a fair likenesse, a pees or one grain of Wheat, to a thousand ships full of corne charged. What nomber is between [Page 498] the one and the other, and yet mowe both they be nombred, and end in recknyng haue. But truely all that may be nombred, is nothing to recken, as to thilke that may not be nombred, for oft things ended is made comparison, as one little, an other great, but in things to haue an end, and an other no end, soch comparisoun may not be founden. Wherefore in heauen to been losed, with God hath none end, but endles endureth, and thou canst nothing doen aright, but thou desire the rumour thereof be healed, and in euery wightes eare, and that dureth but a prick, in respect of the other. And so thou seekest reward of folks, small words, and of vain praysings. Truly therein thou lesest the guerdon of vertue, and lesest the greatest valour of conscience, and unhap thy renome euerlasting. * Therefore boldly renome of fame of the yearth should be hated, & fame after death should be desired, of werks of vertue asketh guerdoning, and the soul causeth all vertue. Then y• soul deliuered out of prison of yearth, is most worthy soch guerdone among to haue in the euerlasting fame, and not the bodye, that causeth all mannes yuils.
OF tway things art thou answered, as me thinketh (qd. Loue) and if any thing be in doubt in thy soul, shew it forth thine ignoraunce to clear, and leaue it for no shame. Certes (qd. I) there ne is no body in this world, that aught could say by reason, ayenst any of your skils, as I leue: and by my wit now fele I well that euil speakers, or bearers of enfame, may little greue or let my purpose, but rather by soche thing my quarel to be forthered. Yea (qd. she) and it is proued also, that the like jewel in my keeping shall not there through be stered, of the lest moment that might be imagined. That is soth (qd. I.) Well (qd. she) then leueth there, to declare that thy insuffisaunce is no manner letting, as thus: for that she is so worthy, thou shouldest not climbe so high, for thy moebles and thine estate arne voided, thou thinkest fallen in soch misery, that gladnesse of thy pursute woll not on thee discend. Certes (qd. I) that is soth: right soch thought is in mine herte, for commonly it is spoken, and for an old Prouerb it is ledged: * He that heweth to hie, with chips he may lese his sight. Wherefore I haue been about in all that euer I might, to study ways of remedy, by one side or by an other. Now (qd. she) God forbede, ere thou seek any other doings but soch as I haue learned thee in our resting whiles, and such hearbes as been planted in our Gardens. Thou shalt well vnderstand, that aboue man, is but one God alone. How (qd. I) han men to forne this time, trusted in writs and chauntements, and in helps of Spirites, that dwellen in the air, and thereby they han getten their desires, where as first for all his manly power he daunced behind.
O (qd. she) fie on soch matters, for truely that is sacrilege, and that shall haue no sort with any of my seruants, in mine eyen shall soch thing not be looked after. How often is it commanded by these passed wise, yt to one God shall men serue, & not two Gods. And who that list to haue mine helps, shall aske none help of foul Spirits. Alas, is not man maked semblable to God? Woste thou not well, that all vertue of liueliche werking by Gods purueighance, is vnderput to reasonable creature in yerth, is not euery thing a thishalf God? made buxom to mans contemplacion, vnderstanding in heauen & in earth, and in hell. Hath not man being with stones, soul of wexing with trees and herbs.
Hath he not soul of feling with beasts, fishes, and fouls, and he hath soule of reason and vnderstonding with Angels, so yt in him is knit all maner of liuings, by a reasonable proporcion. Also man is made of all y• fower Elements. All uniuersity is rekened in him alone: he hath under god principality aboue al things. Now is his soul here, now a thousand mile hence, now farre, now nigh, now high, now low, as farre in a moment, as in mountenance of ten Winter, & al this is in mans gouernance & disposicion. Then sheweth it, that men been lich vnto gods, & children of most height. * But now sithen al things vnderput to y• will of reasonable creatures, God forbid any man to win that Lordship, & ask help of any thing lower than himselfe, and then namely of foule things innominable.
Now then, why shouldest thou wene to loue to high, sithen nothing is thee aboue, but God alone. Truly I wote wel, that the ilk jewel is in a manner, euen in line of degree, there thou art thy selue, & nought aboue, saue thus: Angel vpon Angel, Man vpon Man, & Deuil vpon Deuil, han a maner of Souerainty, & that shal cease at y• day of Dome: & so I say, though thou be put to serue thilk jewel during thy life, yet is that no seruage of vnderputting, but a maner of travailing pleasance, to conquere and get that thou hast not.
I set now the hardest in my seruice now thou deydest for sorrow of wanting in thy desires: Truly all heauenly bodies, with one voice shul come & make melody in thy comming, & say welcome our fere, and worthy to enter into Iupiters joy, for thou with might hast ouercome death, thou wouldest neuer flit out of thy seruice, & we all shul now pray to the gods, row by row, to make thilke Margarite, that no routh had in this person, but vnkindly without comfort let thee dye, shall beset her self in soch wise, that in yearth for part of vengeaunce, shall she no joy haue in loues seruice: and when she is dedde, then shall her soul been brought vp into thy presence, and whider thou wilt chese, thilke soule shall been committed. Or els after thy death, anone all the foresaid heauenly bodies by one accorde, shall be nommen from thilke perle, all the vertues that firste her were taken, [Page 499] for she hath hem forfeyted, by y• on thee my seruaunt, in thy liue she would not suffer to worche all vertues, withdrawen by might of the high bodies: Why then shouldest thou wene so any more. And if thee liste to looke vpon the law of kind, and with order, which to me was ordayned, soothly none age, none ouertourning time, but hitherto had no time ne power, to chaunge the wedding, ne that knotte to vnbinde of two hertes, through one assent in my presence, togither accorden to enduren till death hem depart. What trowest thou euery ideot wot the meaning & the priuy entent of these things? They wene forsoth that soche accorde may not be, but y• Rose of maidenhede be plucked, do way do way, they know nothing of this: * For consente of two hertes alone, maketh the fastning of ye knot, neither law of kind, ne mans Low determineth, neither y• age, ne the quality of persons, but onely accord between thilke tway. And truely, after time that such accorde, by their consent in herte, is ensealed & put in my tresory, amongs my priuy things, then ginneth the name of spousaile: and although they breken forward bothe, yet soch matter ensealed, is kept in remembrance for euer. And see now that spouses haue the name anon after accord, though the Rose be not take. The Aungell bad Ioseph take Mary his spouse, and to Egypt wend: Lo she was cleped spouse, and yet toforne ne after, neither of hem both meant, no fleshly lust know, wherfore y• words of trouth accorden, y• my seruants shoulden forsake both father and mother, & be adherand to his spouse, and they two in unity of one flesh, shoulden accorde, And this wise two that werne first, in a little manner disaccordaunt, higher that one, and lower that other, been made euenliche in gree to stonde.
But now to enforme thee, y• ye been liche Goddes, these Clerkes sain, and in determinacion shewen, that three things hauen the names of Goddes been cleped, y• is to saine, Man, Deuil, and Images, but yet is there but one God, of whom all goodnesse, all grace, and all vertue commeth, & he is louing and true, and euerlasting, & prime cause of al being things: but men been goddes, louing & true, but not euerlasting, & that this by adoption, of the euerlasting God. Deuils been goddes, stirring by a manner of liuing, but neither been they true, ne euerlasting, & their name of godlihed, they han by vsurpacion, as the Prophet saieth: Al Goddes of Gentiles, that is to say, Painims, are Diuels. But Images been Goddes by nuncupacion, & they been neither liuing, ne true, ne euerlasting: After these words they clepen Gods, Images, wrought with mens hands.
But now reasonable creature, that by adoption alone, art to y• great god euerlasting, & therby thou art good cleped: let thy fathers maners so entre thy wits, yt thou might follow, in as much as longeth to thee, thy fathers worship, so that in nothing, thy kind from his will decline, ne from his nobley pouerty. In thus wise if thou werche, thou art aboue all other things, saue Ood alone, and to say no more thine herte, to serue in too hie a place.
FVlly haue I now declared, thine estate to be good, so thou follow thereafter, and that the objection first by thee alleged, in worthinesse of thy Margarite, shall not thee let, as it shall further thee, and increase thee: it is now to declare, the last objection in nothing may greue. Yes certes (qd. I) both greue, and let must it needs, the contrary may not beene proued, and see nowe why. While I was glorious in worldly welfulnesse, and had soch goodes in wealth, as maken men riche, tho was I draw into compaignies that loos, prise, and name yeuen: Tho loureden blasours, tho curreiden glosours, tho welcomeden flatteres, tho worshipped thilke, that now deinen not to looke. Euery wight in soch yearthly weale habundaunt, is hold noble, precious, benigne, & wise, to do wt he shall, in any degree that menne him set, all be it that the soth be in yt contrary of all tho thinges: But he that can, ne neuer so well in him behaue, and hath vertue habundant, in manifold maners, and be not wealthed with soch yearthly goodes, is hold for a fool, and said his wit is but sotted. Lo how false for euer is hold true. Lo how trew is cleaped false, for wanting of goodes. Also Lady, dignitees of office maken men mikell commended, as thus: he is so good, were he out, his pere should men not find. Truely I trowe of some soche that are so praised, were they out ones, an other should make him so be know, he should of no wise no more been looked after: but onely fools wel I wot, desiren soch new things. Wherefore I wonder that thilke gouernour, out of whom alone the causes proceden, that gouerneth all things, which that hath ordeined this world, in werkes of the kindly bodies so be gouerned, not with vnstedfast or happious thing, but with rules of reason, which shewen the course of certain things: why suffreth he such sliding chaunges, that misturnen soch noble things as been we men, that arne a faire persel of the yearth, & holden the vpperest degree vnder GOD, of benigne things, as ye saiden right now your selfe, shoulde neuer man haue been set in so worthy a place, but if his degree were ordained noble. Alas, thou that knittest the purueighaunce of all things, why lookest thou not to amenden these defaults: I see shrewes that han wicked maners, siten in chairs of domes, Lambes to punishen, there Woolues should been punished. Lo, vertue shined naturelly, for pouerty lurketh, & is hid vnder cloude: but the Moon false forsworn, as I know my self, for auer and yeftes hath vsurped, to shine by day light, with peynture of other mens praysings: & truly thilke forged light foully should fade, were the trouth away of colours feyned. Thus is night tourned into day, [Page 500] and day into night, Winter into Sommer, & Sommer into Winter, not in deed but in miscleapyng of foolish people.
Now (qd. she) what wenest thou of these things? How felest thou in thine hert, by what governaunce that this commeth about?
Certes (qd. I) that wote I never, but if it be, that Fortune hath graunt from abode to lede the end of men as her liketh. Ah now I see (qd. she) the entent of thy meaning: Lo, bycause thy worldly goods, been fullich dispent, thou berafte out of dignity of office, in which thou madest thy gathering of thilke goodes, and yet diddest in that office, by counsayle of wise, any thyng were ended: and true were unto hem, whose profite thou shouldest looke, and seest now many, that in the ilke Heruest made of thee mokell, and now for glosing of other, deyneth thee nought to forther, but enhaunsen fals shrewes, by witnessing of truth: These thinges greeveth thine herte, to seene thy self thus abated, and then frailty of mankind ne setteth but litle, by the lesers of soch rechesse, have he never so moche vertue, and so thou wenest of thy Iewell, to renne in dispite, and not been accepted into grace: All this shall thee nothing hinder. Now (qd. she) first thou woste well, thou lostest nothing that ever mightest thou challenge for thyne own: When nature brought thee forth, come thou not naked out of thy mothers womb? Thou haddest no richesse, and when thou shalte enter into the ende of every fleshly body, what shalt thou have with thee then? So every richesse thou haste in time of thy living nis but leant, thou might therein chalenge no property. And see now, every thing that is a mans own, he may do therewith what him liketh, to yeue or to keep: but richesse thou playnest from thee lost, if thy might had stretched so ferforth, faine thou wouldes have hem kept, multiplied with mo other: & so ayenst thy will been they departed from thee, wherefore they were never thine. And if thou laudest and joyest any wight, for he is stuffed with soche maner richesse, thou art in that beleeve beguiled, for thou wenest thilk joy to be selinesse, or els ease, and he that hath lost soche haps, to been unseily. Ye forsoth (qd. I.) Well (qd. she) then woll I prove that unsely, in that wise is to praise, and so the tother is the contrary to be lacked. How so (qd. I?) For unsely (qd. she) begileth not, but sheweth the entent of her working. Et è contra. Selinesse begileth, for in prosperity, shee maketh a jape in blindnesse, that is, she windeth him to make sorow when she withdraweth. Wolte thou not (qd. she) praise him better, that sheweth to thee his hert, tho it be with bitande words, and dispitous than him that gloseth, and thinketh in their absence, to do thee many harmes. Certes (qd. I) the one is to commend, & the other to lack and dispise. A ha (qd. she) right so ease while he lasteth, gloseth & flattereth, & lightly voideth when she most pleasantly sheweth, and ever in her absence, she is about to dothee tene and sorow in hert: But unsely all be it with betande chere, sheweth what she is, and so doth not that other, wherefore unsely doth not beguile. Selinesse disceiveth: unsely put away doubt. That one maketh men blind, that other openeth their iyen, in shewyng of wretchednesse. The one is ful of drede, to lese that is not his owne: That other is sober, and maketh men discharged of mokel heavinesse in burthen: The one draweth a man from very good, the other haleth him to vertue, by the hookes of thoughts. And wenest thou not, that thy disease hath done thee mokell more to winne, than ever yet thou lostest, & more than ever the contrary made thee winne? Is not a great good to thy thinking, for to know y• hearts of thy soothfast freends? Parde they been proved to the full, and the true have discevered from the false. Truely at the goyng of thilke brotell joye, there yede no more away, than the ilke that was not thyne proper: He was never from y• lightly departed, thine owne good therfore leaveth it still with thee. Now good (qd. she) for how moch wouldest thou sometime have bought, this very knowyng of thy frende, from the flattering flies that they glosed, when thou thought thy selfe sely? But thou y• plainest of losse in richesse, haste founden y• most dere worthy thing: that thou cleapest vnsely, hath made the moche thing to winnen. And also for conclusioun of all, * He is frende that nowe leaveth not his heart from thine helps. And if that Margarite denieth now not to suffre her vertues shine to thee wardes, with spreading beams, as farre or farther than if thou were sely in worldly joy: Trewly I say not els but she is some deale to blame.
Ah, peace (qd. I) and speak no more of this, mine heart breaketh now thou touchest any soche wordes. A well (qd. she) then let vs singen, thou herest no more of these things at this tyme.
VEry wealth may not be founden in all this world, and that is well seene: Lo how in my moste comforte, as I wende and moste supposed to have had full aunswere of my contrary thoughtes, suddainly it was vanished. And all the workes of man faren in the same wise, when folke wenen best her entent for to have, and willes to perfourme, anon chaunging of the lift side to the right halve, torneth it so cleane into another kind, that never shall it come to the first plite in doing.
O this wrongfull steering so soone, otherwised out of knowing but for my purpose was at my beginning, & so dureth yet, if God of his grace tyme woll me graunt, I think to perfourme this worke, as I have begone in love, after as my thinne witte, with inspiracicion [Page 501] of him that hildeth all grace woll suffre. Grecuously God wotte haue I suffred a great throw, that the Romayn Emperour, which in vnity of loue should accord and euery with other, in cause of other to auance, and namely sith this Empire to be corrected of so many sects in heresie, of faith, of seruice, of rule in loues religion. Trewly all were it but to shend erronious opinions, I may it no lenger suffre: For many men there been that sain loue to been in grauell and sand, that with Sea ebbing and flowing woweth, as riches that sodainly wanisheth. And some sain that loue should be in windy blasts, that stoundmele tournerh as a phane, and glory of renome, which after lusts of the variant people is areysed or stilled. Many also we [...]en that in the Sun and the Moon, and other Sters, loue should been founden, for among all other Planets most souerainly they shinen, as dignities in reuerence of estates rather than good han, and occupien. Full many also there been that in okes and in huge posts supposen loue to been grounded, as in strength and in might, which mowen not helpen their own wretchednesse, when they gin to fall. But soch diuersity of sects ayenst the rightful bileue of loue, these errors [...]een forth spred, that loues seruants in the trew rule and stedfast faith, in no place darn appear: Thus irrecuparable joy is went, and annoy endlesse is entred. For no man aright deproueth soch errors, but comfirmen their words, and sain that bad is noble good, and goodnes is bad, to which folk the Prophet biddeth, wo without end.
Also many tongues of great false teachings in guiling maner, principally in my times, not only with words, but also with armes, loues seruaunts and professe in his religion of trew rule, pursewen to confounden and to distroien. And for as much as holy Fathers, that our Christen faith aproued and strengthed to the Iews, as to men reasonable, and of diuinity learned, proued thilk faith with reasons, and with aucthoritees of the old Testament, and of the new, her pertinacy to distroy: But to Paynims, that for beests and hounds were hold, to put hem out of their error, was miracles of God shewed. These things were figured by coming of thangell to the sheepherds, and by the sterre to Painims kings, as who saith: Angel reasonable, to reasonable creature, and sterre of myracle to people bestiall not learned, wern sent to enform. But I louers clerk in all my conning and with all my mights, trewly I haue no soch grace in vertue of myracles, ne for no discomfite falsehedes suffiseth not auctorities alone, sithen that such heretikes and maintainors of falsities. Wherefore I wot well sithen that they been men, and reason is approued in hem, the clowd of error hath her reason bewond probable reasons, which that catchend wit rightfully may not with sitte. But my trauayling study. I haue ordeined hem, with that auctority misglosed by mans reason, to graunt shall be enduced.
Now ginneth my pen to quake, to thinken on the sentences of the enuious people, which alway been ready, both rider and goer to skorn and to jape this leud book and me for rancor and hate in their hearts they shullen so dispise, that although my book be leud, yet shall it been more leud holden, and by wicked wordes in many maner apaired. Certes me thinketh the sown of their bad speach, right now is full both mine eares. O good precious Margarite, mine heart should weep, if I wist ye token hede of soch maner speach, but trewly I wote well in that your wisedom shall not astert. For of God maker of kind witnesse I took, that for none enuy ne iuell haue I draw this matter togider, but only for goodnes to maintain, and errors in falsetes to distroy. Wherfore (as I said) with reason I think, thilke foresaid errors to distroy and dequace. These reasons and soch other, if they enduce men in loues seruice, trew to beleeue of parfite blisse, yet to full faith in credence of desert, fully mow they not suffise, sithen faith hath no merit of mede, when mans reason sheweth experience in doing. For vtterly no reason the parfite blisse of loue by no way may make to be comprehended. Lo what is a persell of louers joy, parfite science in good service, of their desire to comprehend in bodely doing, the liking of the soul, nat as by a glasse to haue contemplacion of time comming, but thilk first imagined and thought, after face to face in beholding: what heart, what reason, what vnderstanding can make his heauen to be feeled and know without assay of doing? Certes none. Sithen then of loue commeth soch fruit in blisse, and loue in himself is the most among other vertues, as Clerks sain: The seed of soch springing in all places, in all countreis, in all worlds should been sowe.
But o wel away, thilk seed is forsake, and mowen not been suffred the lond tillers to set a werk, without meddling of cockle, bad wedes which sometime stonken hath caught the name of loue among ydiotes and bad meaning people. Neuer the latter, yet how so it be that men cleap thilk King preciousest in kind, with many eke names, that other things, that the foule yeuen the ilke noble name, it sheweth well that in a maner men haue greate liking in wurshipping thilke name, wherefore this work haue I writ, and to the titled of loues name, I haue it auowed in a maner of sacrifice, that where euer it be rad, it mow in merit by the excellence of thilk name the more wex in authority and wurship of taking in hede, and to what entent it was ordained, the in feeres mowen been moued. Euerything to whom is ow and occasion done as for his end. Aristotle supposeth that the acts of euery thing been in a maner his finall cause. A finall cause is nobler, [Page 502] or els euen as noble as thilk thing that is finally to thilk end, wherefore accion of thing euerlasting is deemed to be eternall, and not temporal, sithen it is his final cause: Right so the acts of my book loue, and loue is noble, wherefore though my book be leud, the cause with which I am stered, and for whom I ought it done, noble forsooth been both. But bicause that in conning I am yong, and can yet but creep, this leud A, b, c, haue I set into learning, for I can not passen the telling of three as yet: and if God will in short time, I shall amend this leudnesse in joyning of syllables, which thing for dulnesse of wit I may not in three letters declare. For trewly I say the goodnesse of my Margarite pearle would yeue matter enditing to many Clerks: Certes her mercy is more to me swetter than any liuings, wherefore my lips mowen not suffice in speaking of her full laud and worship as they shuld. But who is that in knowing of the orders of Heauen, and putteth his reasons in the earth: I forsooth may not with blere eyen, the shining Sun of vertue in bright whele of this Margarite behold, therefore as yet I may her not discriue in vertue as I would. In time coming in another treatise thorow goddes grace, this Sunne, cleerenesse of vertue to be know, and how she enlumineth all this day, I think to declare.
IN this meane while this comfortable lady gan sing a wounder mater of enditing in Latine, but trewly the noble colours in Rhetorike, wise knit were so craftely, that my conning woll not stretche to remembre, but the sentence I trowe somedele haue I in minde. Certes they were wonder sweete of sowne, and they were touched all in lamentacion wise, and by no werbelles of mirth: Lo thus gan she sing in Latine, as I may constrew it in our English tongue.
Alas that these heuenly bodies their light and course shewen, as nature yaue hem in commaundement at the ginning of the first age, but these things in free choise of reason han none vnderstanding: but man that ought to passe all thing of doing, of right course in kind, ouerwhelmed soothnesse by wrongfull title, and hath drawen the Sterre of enuie to gone by his side, that the ciypes of me that should be his shinand Sun, so oft is sey, that it wened thilk error thorow hem come in, should been mine own default. Trewely therefore I haue me withdraw, and made my dwelling out of land in an yle by my self, in the Occian closed, and yet sayn there many they haue me harberowed, but God wote they faylen. These things me greuen to think, and namely on paised gladnesse, that in this world was wont me disport of high and low, and now it is failed: they that wolden maistries me haue in thilk stounds, in heauen on high aboue Saturns sphere, in seasonable time were they lodged, but now come queint counsailours that in no house woll suffre me sojourn, whereof is pitee: And yet sain some that they me haue in celler with wine shet, in garnere there corne is laid, couered with wheat, in sack sowed with woll, in purse with money fast knit, among pans mouled in a wiche, in presse among clothes laid, with rich pelure araied, in stable among horse and other beasts, as hogs, sheep, and nete, and in other maner wise. But thou maker of light (in winking of thine eye the sun is queint) wost right well that I in true name was never thus herberowed. Sometime toforn the sun in the seuenth party was smiten, I bare both crosse & mitre, to yeue it where I would. With me the Pope went a foot, & I tho was worshipped of al holy church, kings baden me their crowns holden. * The law was set as it shuld: to fore the judg as wel the poor durst shew his grefe as the rich, for all his money. I defended tho tailages, & was ready for the poor to pay. I made great feasts in my time, and noble songs, & maried damosels of gentill feture, withouten gold or other richesse. Poor Clerks for wit of school, I set in churches, and made soch persons to preach: and tho was seruice in holy churches honest and deuout, in pleasaunce both of God and of the people. But now the leud for simony is auaunted, & shendeth all holy church.* Now is steward for his achates, now is courtior for his debates, now is eschetour for his wrongs, now is losel for his songs, personer and prouendre alone, with which many thrifty should encrease. And yet is this shrew bebind, * Free hert is forsake, and losengeour is take. Lo it accordeth, for such there been that voluntary lusts haunten in court with ribaudry, That till midnight and more woll play and wake, but in the Church at matins he is behind, for euill disposicion of his stomake: therefore he shuld eat bean bred, and so did his sire, his estate therewith to strengthen. His alter is broke, and low lithe in point to gone to y• yearth, but his horse must been easie and hie to hear him ouer great waters. His chalice poor, but he hath rich cups. No towayl but a sheet, there God shall been handled: and on his meat borde there shall been borde clothes and towelles many pair. At masse serueth but a clergion: fiue squiers in hall. Poor chauncel, open holes in euery side: beds of silk with tapites going all about his chambre. Poor masse book & leud chapelain, and broken Surplice with many an hole: good hounds and many, to hunt after Hart and Hare, to feed in their feests. Of poor men haue they great care, for they euer craue, and nothing offren, they wolden haue hem doluen. But among legystres there dare I not come, my doing they sain maken hem needy, they ne wold for nothing haue me in town, for then were tort and forth naught worth an haw about, and pleasen no men, but thilk greeuous and torcious been in might [Page 503] and in doing: these things toforn said mow well if men list ryme, trewly they accord nothing. And for as moch as all things by me shulden of right ben gouerned, I am sory to see y• gouernance faileth, as thus: To seen smal and low gouern the hie, & bodies aboue. Certes that polisie is nought, it is forbode by them that of gouernance treaten and enformen. * And right as beastly wit should been subject to reason, so earthly power in it self, the lower should been subject to the hier.
What is worth thy body but it be gouerned with thy soul? right so litel or nought is worth earthly power, but if regnatife prudence in heeds gouern the smal, to which heeds the smal owen to obey, and suffre in their gouernance. But soueraignesse ayenward should think in this wise; I am seruant of these creatures to me deliuered: not Lord, but defendor: not Maister, but enformer: not possessor, but in possession, and to hem lich a tree, in which sparows shullen stelen, her birdes to nourish and foorth bring vnder suerty ayenst all reueinous fouls and beasts, and not to be tyrant themself. And then the smal in rest and quiet, by the heeds well disposed, owen for their souerains health and prosperite to pray, and in other doings, in maintenance thereof perform, withouten other administracion in rule of any manner gouernance. And they wit haue in hem, and grace to come to soch things, yet should they cease till their heeds them cleaped, although profit and pleasance should follow. But trewly other gouernance ne other medling ought they not to claim, ne the heeds on hem to put. Trewly amongs cosinage dare I not come, but if richesse be my mean, soothly she & other bodily goods maketh nigh cosinage, there neuer propinquite ne aliance in liue was, ne should haue be, nere it for her medling maners, wherefore kindly am I not there leged. Pouert of kinred is behind, richesse suffreth him to passe: truly he saith he come never of Iaphets children: whereof I am sory that Iaphets children for pouert, in no linage ben rekened, & Cains children for riches be maked Iaphets heirs. Alas this is a wonder change bitween tho two Noes children, sithen that of Iaphets offspring comden knights, and of Cain discended the line of seruage to his brothers children. Lo how gentilesse and seruage, as cosins, both discended out of two brethern of one body:* Wherfore I say in soothnes, that gentilesse in kinrede maken not gentil linage in succession, without desert of a mans own self. Where is now the line of Alisaundrie the noble, or els of Hector of Troy? Who is discended of right blood of line fro king Artour? Parde sir Perdicas, whom that king Alisandre made to been his heir in Greece, was of no kings blood, his dame was a tombistere: of what kinred been the Gentils in our days:* I trow therfore if any good be in gentilesse, it is only that it seemeth a maner of necessite be input to gentilmen, that they shoulden not varien fro y• vertues of their ancesters. Certes all maner linage of men ben euen lich in birth, for one father, maker of all goodnes, enformed hem all, and all mortal folk of one seed are greyned. Wherto auant men of her linage, in cosinage, or in eld fathers. Loke now the ginning, & to God maker of mans person, there is no clerk ne no worthy in gentilesse: & he that norisheth his corare with vices and vnresonable lusts, and leaueth the kind course, to which end him brought forth his birth, trewly he is vngentil, and among clerks may not been nempned. And therfore he y• woll been gentil, he mote daunten his flesh fro vices y• causen vngentilnes, and leaue also reigns of wicked lusts, * and draw to him vertue, that in all places gentilnes gentilmen maketh. And so speak I in feminine gendre in general, of tho persons at the reuerence of one, whom euery wight honoureth, for her bounty and her noblenes ymade her to God so dere, that his moder she became, and she me hath had so great in worship, y• I nill for nothing in open declare that in any thing ayenst her sect may so wene: for all vertue and all worthines of plesaunce in hem haboundeth. And although I would any thing speak, truly I can not, I may find in yuell of hem no maner mater.
RIght with these words she stint of that lamentable melody, and I gan with a liuely heart to pray, if that it were liking vnto her noble grace, she would her deyn to declare me the mater that firste was begonne, in which she lefte, and stinte to speake beforne she ganne to singe.
O (qd. she) this is no newe thing to me to seene you men desiren after mater, which your selfe caused to void.
Ah good Lady (qd. I) in whom victory of strength is proued aboue all other thing, after the judgement of Esdram, whose lordship all lignes: Who is that right as Emperour hem commaundeth, whether thilke been not women, in whose likenesse to me ye aperen. For right as man halte the principalite of all thing vnder his being, in the masculine gender, and no more genders been there but masculine, and feminine, all the remnant been no genders but of grace, in faculty of Grammer. Right so in the feminine, the women holden the vpperest degree of all things, vnder thilk gender contained. Who bringeth forth kings, which that been lords of see and of yearth, and all peoples of women been born: they nourish hem that raffen vines, they maken men comfort in their glad cheres. Her sorrow is death to mans heart. * Without women the being of men were impossible. They con with their sweetnesse the cruel hert rauish, and make it meek, buxome, and benigne, without violence meuing. In beauty of their eyen, or els of other manere fetures is all mens desires, ye more than in Gold, Precious [Page 504] stones, either any richesse. And in this degree Lady your self many hearts of men haue so bounden, that parfit blisse in womankind to been men wenen, and in nothing els. Also Lady, the goodnesse, the vertue of women, by property of discretion, is so well knowen, by littelnesse of malice, that desire to a good asker by no way con they warn: and ye then that woll not passe the kind werching of your sects by general discrecion, I wot well ys woll so encline to my prayer, that grace of my request shall fully been granted. Certes (qd. she) thus for the more part fareth all mankind to pray, and to cry after womans grace, and fain many fantasies to make herts to encline to your desires: and when these sely women freely of their kind beleuen your words, and wenen all be Gospell the promise of your behests, then grant they to you their herts, and full fillen your lusts, where through their liberty in maistership that they toforn had, is thralled, and so maked Soueraine and to be praid, that first was seruant, and voice of prayer vsed. Anon as filled is your lust, many of you be so trewe, that littel hede take ye of soch kindnesse, but with traisoun anon ye think hem beguile, and set light of that thing which first ye maked to you wonders dere: so what thing to women it is to loue any wight ere she him well know, and haue him proued in many half, for euery glittering thing is not gold, and vnder colour of fair speach many vices may be hid and concealed. Therefore I rede no wight to trust on you too rathe, mens chere & her speach right guileful is ful oft, wherefore without good assay it is not worth on many on you to trust: truly it is right kindly to euery man y• thinketh women betray, and shewen outward all goodnesse, till he haue his will performed. Lo the bird is beguiled with y• mery voice of the foulers whistell. When a woman is closed in your net, then woll ye causes finden, and bear vnkindnesse her on hand, or falsety vpon her put, your own malicious traison with soch thing to excuse. Lo then han women none other wreche in vengeance, but blober and wepe till hem list stint, and sorily her mishap complain, & is put into wening y• all men been so vntrew. How often haue men changed her loues in a litel while, or els for failing their wil in their places hem set? for frendship shal be one, and fame with another him list for to haue, & a third for delite, or els were he lost both in pack & in clothes: is this fair? nay God wot. I may nat tel by thousand parts, y• wrongs in trechery of soch false people, for make they neuer so good a bond, all set ye at a mite when your hert tourneth: and they that wenen for sorrow of you dey, y• pite of your false hert is flow out of town. * Alas therefore, y• euer any woman wold take any wight in her grace, till she know at y• full on whom she might at all assays trust. Women con no more craft in queint knowing, to vnderstand y• false disceiuable conjectments of mans beguilings. Lo how it fareth, though ye men gronen & crien, certes it is but disceit, & y• preueth well by thends in your werking. How many women haue been lorn, and with shame foul shent by long lasting time, which thorow mens gile haue been disceiued? euer their fame shall dure, & their deeds rad and song in many londs, that they han done recoueren shall they neuer, but alway been deemed lightly, in such plite ayen should they fall, of which slanders & tenes ye false men & wicked been the very causes, on you by right ought these shames and these reproues all holy discend. Thus arn ye all nigh vntrew, for all your fair speche your hert is ful fickel. What cause han ye women to dispise? better fruit than they been, ne sweter spices to your behoue, mow ye not find, as far as worldly bodies stretchen. Loke to their forming at the making of their persons by God in joy of Paradice, for goodnesse of mans propre body were they maked, after the saws of the Bible, rehearsing Gods words in this wise: It is good to mankind that we make to him an helper. Lo in paradise for your help was this tree graffed, out of which all linage of man discendeth: if a man be noble fruit, of noble fruit it is sprongen: the blisse of Paradise to mens sory herts, yet in this tree abideth. O noble helps been these trees, and gentil jewel to ben worshipped of euery good creature: * He that hem anoieth, doth his own shame, it is a comfortable perl ayenst al tenes. Euery company is mirthed by their present being. Truly I wist neuer vertue, but a woman were therof y• root. What is heauen y• worse, tho Sarazins on it lien? Is your faith vntrue, tho renogates maken theron leasings. If y• fire doth any wight bren, blame his own wit that put himself so far in y• heat. Is not fire gentillest, & most element comfortable amongs all other? fire is cheef werker in forthering sustenance to mankind, shall fire been blamed, for it brend a fool naturally, by his own stultie wit in stering? Ah wicked fools, for your proper mallice, and shrewdnesse of your self, ye blame and dispise the precious thing of your kind, and which things among other most ye desiren. Trewly Nero and his children been shrews, y• dispisen so their dames. The wickednesse and giling of men, in disclaundring of thilke that most hath hem gladded & pleased, were impossible to write or to nempne. Neuer the later yet I say, he that knoweth a way, may it lightly passe: eke an hearb proued may safely to smertande sores be laid: so I say in him that is proued is nothing soch euils to gesse. But these things haue I rehersed to warne you women all at ones, that to lightly without good assay ye assenten not to mans speach. The Sun in the day light, is to knowen from the Moon that shineth in y• night. Now to thee thy self (qd. she) as I haue oft said, I know well thine hert, thou art none of all the tofore nempned [Page 505] people, for I know well the continuance of thy seruice, y• neuer sithen I set thee a werk, might thy Margarite for pleasance, freendship, ne fairehede of none other be in point moued from thine hert, wherefore into mine houshold hastely I woll that thou entre, and all the parfite priuite of my werking make it be know in thy vnderstanding, as one of my priuy familiers. Thou desirest (qd. she) fain to hear of tho things there I left. Ye forsooth (qd. I) that were to me a great blisse. Now (qd. she) for thou shalt not wene that womans condicions for fair spech, such thing belongeth.
THou shalt (qd. she) vnderstand first among all other things, that all the cure of my seruice, to me in the parfite blisse in doing, is desired in euery mans herte, be he neuer so moche a wretche, but euery man trauaileth by diuers study, and seeke thilke blisse by diuers ways, but all the endes are knitte in selinesse of desire in the parfite blisse, that is soch joy, when men it haue gotten, there liueth no thing more to been coueited: But how y• desire of soch perfection in my seruice be kindly set in louers herts, yet her erronious opinions misturn it by falsenesse of wening. And although mens vnderstanding be misturned, to know which shoulde beene the way vnto my person, and whither it abideth: yet wote they there is a loue in euery wight, weneth by that thing that he coueiteth most, he should come to thilk loue, and that is parfite blisse of my seruants, but then full blisse may not be, and there lack any thing of that blisse in any side. Eke it followeth then, that he that must haue full blisse, lack no blisse in loue on no side.
Therefore Lady (qd. I tho) thilk blisse I haue desired, and sothe to forne this my self by ways of riches, of dignite, of power, and of renome, wening me in tho thrages had ben thilk blisse, but ayenst the heer it tourneth. When I supposed best thilke blisse haue get and come to the full purpose of your seruice, sodainly was I hindred, and throwen so fer abacke, that me thinketh an impossible to come there I left. I woll well (qd. she) & therefore hast thou failed, for thou wentest not by the hie way, a littel misgoing in the ginning, causeth mikell errour in the end, wherefore of thilk blisse thou failedst, for hauing of richesse, ne none of thother things thou nempnedst, mowen not make soch parfite blisse in loue, as I shall shew. Therefore they be not worthy to thilke blisse, and yet somewhat must been cause and way to thilk blisse: Ergo, there is some soch thing, and some way, but it is littel in vsage, and that is not openly iknow. But what felest in thine hert of the seruice, in which by me thou art entred: wenest aught thy self, yet be in the hie way to my blisse? I shall so shew it to thee, thou shalt not con say the contrary.
Good Lady (qd. I) altho I suppose it in my hert, yet would I hear thine words, how ye meanen in this matter? (qd. she) that I shall with my good will. The ilke blisse desired, somedeal ye knowen, altho it be not perfitely, for kindly entencion leadeth you thereto, but in three maner liuings, is all such ways shewed. Euery wight in this world to haue this blisse, one of the ilk three ways of liues must proceede, which after opinions of great Clerks, arn by names cleaped, beastiallich, reasonablich, in vertuous: Manlich is worldlich, beastialich is lusts and delitable, nothing restrained by bridle of reason: all that joyeth and yeueth gladnesse to the hert, and it be ayenst reason, is likened to bestiall liuing, which thing followeth lusts and delites, wherfore in such thing may not that precious bliss, that is maister of all vertues, abide. Your fathers toforne you haue cleaped such lusty liuings, after the flesh, passions of desire, which are innominable tofore God and man both. Then after determination of such wise, we accorden, that such passions of desire shull not ben nempned, but holden for absolute from all other liuings and prouings, and so liueth into liuings, manlich and reasonable, to declare the matters begon. But to make thee fully haue vnderstanding in manlich liuings, which is holden worldlich in these things, so that ignorance be made no letter. I woll (qd. she) nempn these foresaid ways by names and conclusions.
First riches, dignity, renome, and power, shull in this work be cleaped bodily goodes, for in hem hath been a great throw, mans trust of silliness in loue, as in riches suffisance to haue maintained y• was begon by worldly cattell in dignity, honour, and reuerence of hem that wern vnderput, by maistry thereby to obey. In renome glory of peoples praising, after lusts in their heart without heed taking to quality and manner of doing, and in power, by trouth of Lordships mainteinance, thing to proceed forth in doing. In all which things a long time, mans couetise in commune hath ben greatly grounded, to come to y• bliss of my seruice, but truly they were beguiled, and for the principall must needs fail, and in helping mowe not auail. See why for holdest him not poor that is needy? Yes parde (qd. I.) And him for dishonoured, that much folk dein not to reuerence. That is sooth (qd. I.) And what him that his mights failen, and mow not helpen. Certes (qd. I) me seemeth of all men he should be holden a wretch. And wenest not (qd she) that he that is little in renome, but rather is out of the praisings, of mo men than a few be not in shame? Forsooth (qd. I) it is shame and villany to him that coueiteth renome, that more folke not praise in name, than praise. Sooth (qd. she) thou saist sooth, but all these things are followed of such manner doing, and wenden in riches suffisaunce, in power might, in dignity worship, and in renome glory, [Page 506] wherefore they discended into deceiuable wening, and in that seruice deceit is followed. And thus in generall, thou and all such other that so worchen, failen of my blisse, that ye long han desired, wherefore truly in life of reason is the high way to this blisse, as I think more openly to declare hereafter. Neuer the latter, yet in a little to comfort thy heart, in shewing of wt way thou art entred thy self, and that thy Margarite may know thee set in the high way, I woll enform thee in this wise. Thou hast failed of thy first purpose, because thou wentest wrong, and leftest the high way on thy right side, as thus, thou lookedst on worldly liuing, and that thing thee beguiled, and lightly therefore as a little assay thou songedst, but when I turned thy purpose, and shewed thee a part of the high way, tho thou abode therin, & no death ne ferdnesse of none enemy might thee out of thilke way reue, but euer one in thine heart, to come to thilk blisse, when thou were arrested, and first time emprisoned, thou wer loth to change thy way, for in thy heart thou wendest to haue been there thou shouldest, & for I had ruth to seen thee miscaried, & wist well thine ablenes my seruice to further & encrease, I come my self without other mean to visit thy person, in comfort of thy hert: and parde in my coming thou were greatly gladded, after which time, no disease, no care, no tene might moue me out of thy hert. And yet I am glad & greatly enpited, How continually thou haddest me in mind, with good auisement of thy conscience, when thy king & his princes, by huge words & great, looked after variance in thy speech, and euer thou were ready for my sake, in pleasaunce of that Margarite pearl, and many mo other, thy body to oblige into Marces doing, if any contraried thy saws, stedfast way maketh stedfast heart, with good hope in the end. Truly I woll that thou it well know, for I see thee so set, and not changing heart haddest in my seruice, and I made thou haddest grace of thy king, in foryeuenesse of mikell misdeed: to the gracious king art thou mikell holden, of whose grace and goodnesse, sometime hereafter I think to enform, when I shew the ground, where as moral vertue groweth. Who brought thee to werk? Who brought this grace about? Who made thy heart hardy? Truly it was I, for haddest thou of me failed, then of this purpose had neuer taken in this wise. And therefore I say, thou might well trust to come to thy blisse, sithen thy ginning hath been heard, but euer graciously after thy hearts desire hath proceeded. Siluer fined with many heats, men known for true, and safely men may trust in thee alway in werking. This diseases hath proued, what way hence forward thou thinkest to hold. Now in good faith Lady (qd. I tho) I am now in, me seemeth it is the high way and the right. Yea forsooth (qd. she) and now I woll disproue thy first ways, by which many men wenen to get thilk blisse. But for as much as euery heart yt hath caught full loue, is tyed with queint knittings, thou shalt vnderstand, that loue, and thilke foresaid blisse, toforn declared, in this proouings, shall hote the knot in the heart. Well (qd. I) this impossession I woll well vnderstand. Now also (qd. she) for the knot in the heart must ben from one to another, and I know thy desire: I woll thou vnderstand these matters, to been said of thy self, in disproouing of thy first seruice, and in strengthening of thilk that thou hast vndertake to thy Margarite pearl. A Godds half (qd. I) right well I feel, that all this case is possible and true, and therefore I admitted all togither. Vnderstanden well (qd. she) these terms, and look no contradiction thou graunt. If God woll (qd. I) of all these things woll I not fail, and if I graunt contradiction, I should graunt an impossible, and that were a foul inconuenience, fro which things Lady iwis hereafter I think me to keep.
WEll (qd. she) thou knowest that euery thing is a cause, wherethrough any thing hath being, that is cleaped caused: then if riches causen knotte in heart, thilke riches arne cause of the ilke precious thing being: But after the sentence of Aristotle, * Euery cause is more in dignity, than his thing caused, wherethrough it followeth, riches to ben more in dignity than thilke knot, but richesse arn kindly naughty, bad, and needy, and the ilke knot is thing kindly, good, most praised, and desired: Ergo thing naughty, badde, and needy, in kindly vnderstanding, is more worthy, than thing kindly, good, most desired and praised: The consequence is false, needs the antecedent mote been of the same condition. But that richesses been badde, naughty, and needy, that woll I proue, wherefore they mowe cause no such thing, that is so glorious & good: * The more richesse thou hast, the more need hast thou of help, hem to keep. Ergo thou needest in richesse, which need thou shouldest not haue, if thou hem wantest. Then must riches been needy, that in their hauing maken thee needy to helps, in surety thy richesse to keepen, wherethrough followeth richesse to been needy. Euery thing causing euils, is bad and naughty: but riches in one causen misease, in another they mowen not euenly stretchen all about. Whereof commeth plee, debate, theft, begilings, but riches to win, which things been bad, and by richesse arn caused: ergo the ilk richesse been badde, which badnesse & need been knit into riches, by a manner of kindly property, and euery cause, and caused accorden: so that it followeth the ilk richesse, to haue the same accordaunce, with badnesse & nede, that their cause asketh. Also euery thing hath his beeing by his cause, then if the cause be destroyed, y• being of caused is vanished: And so if richesse causen loue, and richesse weren destroyed, the loue should [Page 507] vanish, but the ilke knot and it be true, may not vanish for no going of no richesse: Ergo richesse is no cause of the knot. And many men, as I said, setten the cause of the knot in richesse, the ilke knitten the richesse, and nothing the euill: the ilke persons, what euer they been, wenen that richesse is most woorthy to be had, and that make they the cause▪ and so wene they thilke riches be better than the persone. Commonly suche asken rather after the quantity, than after the quality, and such wenen as well by hemselfe, as by other, that conjunction of his life and of his soul is no more precious, but in as mikell as he hath of richesse. Alas, how may he holden such things precious or noble, that neither han life ne soul, ne ordinaunce of werching limmes: such richesse been more woorthy, when they been in gathering, in departing ginneth his loue of other mennes praysing. And auarice gathering, maketh be hated, and needy to many out helps: and when leueth the possession of such goods, and they ginne vanish, then entereth sorrow and tene in their herts. O bad and strait been thilke, that at their departing maketh men tenefull and sorry, and in the gathering of hem make menne needy: Much folk at ones mowen not togither much therof haue.* A good guest gladdeth his host, and all his meiny, but he is a bad guest, that maketh his host needy, and to be afeard of his [...]uests going. Certes (qd. I) me wondereth therefore, that the common opinion is thus: he is worth no more, than that he hath in ca [...]tell. O (qd. she) look thou be not of that opinion, for if gold or money, or other manner of riches shinen in thy sight, whose is that? Not thine: and tho they haue a little beauty, they be nothing in comparison of our kind, and therefore ye should not set your woorthinesse in thing lower than your self: for the richesse, the fairenesse, the woorthinesse of thilke goods, if there be any such preciousnesse in hem, are not thine, thou madest hem so neuer, from other they come to thee, & to other they shull from thee: wherefore embracest thou other wights goods, as tho they were thine? Kind hath draw hem by hemself. It is sooth the goods of the yearth been ordained in your food and nourishing, but if thou wolt hold thee apayed with that sufficeth to thy kind, thou shalt not be in danger of no such riches. * To kind sufficeth little thing, who that taketh heed.* And if thou wolt algates with superfluity of riches be athroted, thou shalt hastelich be annoyed, or els euil at ease. And fairnesse of fields, ne of habitations, ne multitude of meiny may not be rekened as riches, that are thine own, for if they be bad, it is great sclaunder and villany to the occupier, and if they be good or fair, the matter of the workman that hem made, is to praise. How should otherwise bounty be counted for thine, the ilke goodnesse and fairnesse be proper to tho things hemself, then if they be not thine, sorrow not when they wend, ne glad thee not in pompe and in pride, when thou hem hast, for their bounty and their beauties, cometh out of their own kind, and not of thine own person: as fair been they in their not hauing, as when thou hast hem, they be not fair, for thou hast hem, but thou hast getten hem for the fairnesse of themself. And there the valance of men is deemed in riches outforth, wenen me to haue no proper good in themself, but seech it in strange things. Truly the condition of good wening is in thee mistourned, to wene your noblenesse be not in your self, but in the goods and beauty of other things. Parde the beasts that han but feeling souls, haue suffisaunce in their own self: and ye that been like to God, seken encrease of suffisance, from so excellent a kind, of so low things, ye do great wrong to him, yt you made sords ouer all yearthly things, & ye put your worthinesse vnder the number of the feet, of lower things and foul, when ye judge thilke riches to be your worthinesse, then put ye your self by estimation, vnder thilk foul things, and then leue ye the knowing of your self▪ so be ye viler than any domb beast, that commeth of shreud vice. Right so thilk persons that louen none euill, for dear worthinesse of the person, but for straunge goods, and saith the adornment in the knot lieth in such thing, his errour is perillous and shreud, and he wrieth much venime, with much wealth, and that knot may not be good, when he hath it getten. Certes, thus hath riches with flickering light annoied many: and often when there is a throw out shrew, he cometh all the gold, all the precious stones that mowen be founden to haue in his bandon, he weneth no wight be worthy to haue such things but he alone. How many hast thou know now in late time, that in their riches, supposed suffisance haue followed, and now it is all failed. Ye lady qd. I that is for misse meddling, and other wise gouerned thilk riches, than they should. Yea (qd. she tho) had not the flood greatly areised, & throw to hemward both grauell and sand, he had made no meddling. And right as sea yeueth flood, so draweth sea ebbe, and pulleth ayen vnder wawe, all the first out throw, but if good piles of noble gouernance in Loue, in well meaning manner, been sadly grounded, to which hold thilk grauel, as for a while, that ayen lightly mowe not it tourn: and if the piles ben true, the grauel and sand wol abide. And certes, full warning in loue shalt thou neuer through hem get ne couer, that lightly with an ebbe ere thou beware, it will ayen meue.
* In riches many men have had tenes & diseases, wch they should not haue had, if therof they had failed. Through which now declared, partly it is shewed, that for riches should the knot in heart, neither been caused in one, ne in other: truly knot may been knit, and I trow more stedfast in loue, though richesse failed, and els in richesse is the knot, and not in heart. And then such a knot is false, when [Page 508] the sea ebbeth and withdraweth the grauell, that suche richesse voydeth, thilke knotte woll vnknit. Wherefore no trust, no waye, no cause, no parfite beeing is in richesse, of no suche knotte, therefore another way must wee haue.
HOnour in dignity is wened to yeuen [...] full knotte. Ye certes (qd. I) and of that opinion ben many, for they sayne, dignity, with honour, and reuerence, causen herts to encheinen, and so abled to knit togither, for the excellence in souerainty of such degrees.
Now (qd. she) if dignity, honour, and reuerence, causen thilke knot in heart, this knot is good & profitable. For euery cause of a cause, is cause of thing caused: Then thus, good things & profitable, ben by dignity, honour, and reuerence caused. Ergo they accorden, & dignities been good with reuerences and honour, but contraries mowen not accorden: wherefore by reason there should no dignity, no reuerence, none honor accord with shrews, but that is false: They haue beene cause to shrewes, in many shreuduesse, for wyth hem they accorden. Ergo from beginning, to argue ayenward, till it come to the last conclusion, they are not cause of the knot. Lo all day at eie arne shrewes not in reuerence, in honour, & in dignity? Yes forsooth, rather than the good. Then followeth it, y• shrewes rather than good, shul ben cause of this knot. But of thys contrary, of all louers is beleeue, & for a soth openly determined to hold.
Now (qd. I) faine would I heare, how such dignities accorden with shrewes.
O (qd. she) that woll I shewe in manyfolde wise. Ye wene (qd. she) that dignities of office here in your City, is as the Sunne, it shineth bright withouten any cloud: whyche thyng, when they commen in y• hands of malicious tyraunts, there commeth muche harme, and more greuaunce thereof, than of y• wild fire, though it brende all a streete. Certes, in dignity of office, y• werks of y• occupier shewen the mallice and the badnesse in the persone, with shrewes they maken manifolde harmes, and muche people shamen. How often han rancours, for mallice of y• gouernour shoulde been maintained? Hath not then such dignities caused debate, rumours, & euils? Yes God wote, by such thynges haue been trusted to, make mennes vnderstandyng encline to many queint thyngs. Thou wotest wel what I meane. Ye (qd. I) therefore as dignity such thyng in tene ywrought, so ayenwarde the substaunce in dignity chaunged, relyed to bryng ayen good plite in doyng. Do waye, do waye (qd. she) if it so betide, but y• is selde y• such dignity is betake in a good mannes gouernaunce. What thing is to recken in y• dignities goodnesse? Parde the bounty and goodnesse is hers, that vsen it in good gouernaunce, & therefore commeth it, that honour and reuerence should been doen into dignity, because of encreasing vertue in y• occupyer, and not to the ruler, because of soueraignety in dignity. Sithen dignity may no vertue cause, who is worthy worship for such goodnesse? Not dignity, but persone, that maketh goodnesse in dignity to shine. This is woonder thing (qd. I) for me thinketh, as the persone in dignity is worthye honour for goodnesse, so tho a persone for hadnesse, maugre hath deserued, yet the dignity le [...]eth to be commended. Let be (qd. she) thou errest ryght foule, dignity with hadnesse, is helper to performe the fello [...] us doyng: parde were it kindely good, or any property of kindely vertue, hadden in hemselfe, shrewes should hem neuer haue, with hem should they neuer accord. Water & fire that been contrarious, mowen not togider been assembled, kind woll not suffer such contraries to ioyne. And sithen at eye by experience in doing, we seen y• shrewes haue hem more often than good men, siker mayest thou be, that kindely good in such things is not appropred. Parde were they kindly good, as well one as other shoulden euenlich in vertue of gouernaunce ben worth: but one faileth in goodnesse, another doth the contrary, and so it sheweth kindely goodnesse, in dignity not be grounded. And this same reason (qd. she) may be made in generall, on all y• bodily goods, for they commen oft to throw out shrewes. After this he is strong, y• hath might to haue great burthens, & he is light and swift, that hath soueraignty in ronning to passe other: right so he is a shrew, on whom shreude thinges and bad han most werching. And right as Phylosophy maketh Philosophiers, and my seruice maketh louers: ryght so if dignities weren good or vertuous, they should maken shrewes good, and tourne her mallice, and make hem be vertuous, but that doe they not, as it is prooued, but causen rancour and debate: Ergo they be not good, but vtterly bad. Had Nero neuer been Emperor, should neuer his dame haue be slaine, to maken open the priuity of his engendrure. Herodes for his dignity slewe manye children. The dignity of king Iohn would haue destroyed all England. Therefore mokell wisedome & goodnesse both needeth in a person, the mallice in dignity, s [...]ily to bridle, and with a good bitte of areste to withdraw, in case it would praunce otherwise than it should: truly yee yeue to dignities wrongfull names in your cleping. They should hete not dignity, but monster of badnesse, and mainteiner of shrewes. Parde, shine the Sunne neuer so bright, and it bring forth no heat, ne seasonably the hearbes out bring of the yearth, but suffer frosts and cold, and thearth barraine to ligge, by time of his compasse in circuit about, ye would wonder and dispreise that Sunne. It the Moon be at full, and sheweth no light, but darke & dimme to your sight appereth, and make destruction of the waters, woll ye not suppose it be vnder cloud, or in clips? And that some priuy thing, vnknown to your [Page 509] wits, is cause of such contrarious doing? Then if clerks, y• han full insight & knowing of such impediments, enform you of the sooth, very ideots ye been, but if ye yeuen credence to thilk clerks words. And yet it dooth me te [...]e, to seen many wretches rejoycen in such many Planets. Truly little con they on Philosophy, or els on my lore, that any desire haven such lighting Planets, in that wise any more to shew. Good Lady, (qd. I) tell ye me how ye mean in these things. Lo (qd. she) the dignities of your citty, Sunne and Moone, nothing in kind shew their shining as they should. For the Sunne made no brenning heat in loue, but fresed enuy in mens hearts, for feeblenes of shining heat: and the Moone was about vnder an old cloud, the liuings by waters to destroy. Lady (qd I) it is supposed they had shined as they should. Ye (qd. she) but now it is prooued at the full, their beauty in kindly shining failed: wherefore dignity of himseluen, hath no beauty in fairenesse, ne driueth not away vices, but encreaseth, and so be they no cause of the knot. Now see in good truth, hold ye not such sonnes woorthy of no reuerence and dignities, woorthy of no worship, that maketh men to do the more harms? I not (qd I.) No (qd. she) and thou see a wise good man, for his goodnesse and wisenesse wolt thou not do him worship? Thereof he is worthy. That is good skill (qd. I) it is due to such, both reuerence and worship to haue. Then (qd. she) a shrew for his shreudnesse, altho he be put forth toforne other for ferde, yet is he worthy for shreudnesse to be vnworshipped: of reuerence no part is he worthy to haue, to contrarious doing belongeth, and that is good skill. For right as he besmiteth the dignities, thilk same thing ayenward him smiteth, or els should smite. And ouer this thou wost well (qd. she) that fire in euery place heateth where it be, and water maketh wet: Why? For kindly werking is so yput in hem to do such things: for euery kindly in werking sheweth his kind. But though a wight had been Maior of your city many Winter together, & come in a strange place, there he were not known, he should for his dignity haue no reuerence. Then neither worship ne reuerence is kindly proper in no dignity, sithen they shoulden done their kind in such doing, if any were. And if reuerence ne worship kindly be not sette in dignities, and they more therein been shewed than goodnesse, for that in dignity is shewed, but it prooueth, that goodnesse kindly in hem is not grounded. Iwis neither worship ne reuerence, ne goodnesse in dignity, done none office of kind, for they haue none such property in nature of doing, but by false opinion of the people. Lo, how sometime, thilk that in your City wern in dignity noble, if thou list hem nempne, they been now ouertourned, both in worship, in name, and in reuerence, wherefore such dignities haue no kindely [...]er [...]hing of worship, and of reuerence, he that hath no worthynesse on it self. Now it riseth, and now it vanisheth, after the variaunt opinion in false heartes of vnstable people.
Wherfore, if thou desire y• knot of this jewel, or els if thou wouldest suppose she should set the knot on thee for such manner of dignity, then thou wenest beauty or goodnesse of the ilk somewhat encreaseth the goodnesse or vertue in the body: but dignity of hemself ben not good, ne yeuen reuerence ne worship by their own kind, how should they then yeue to any other a thing that by no way mowe they haue hemself? It is seen in dignity of the Emperor, and of many mo other, that they mowe not of hemselue keep their worship, ne their reuerence, that in a little while it is now vp, and now down, by vnstedfast hearts of the people. What bounty mow they yeue, that with cloud lightly leaueth his shining? Certes, to the occupier is mokell apeired, sithen such doing doth villany to him that may it not maintain, wherefore thilk way to the knot is crooked: and if any desire to come to the knot, he must leaue this way on his left side, or els shall he neuer come there.
AVaileth aught (qd. she) power of might, in maintenaunce of woorthy, to come to this knot. Parde (qd. I) ye, for herts ben rauished from such manner things. Certes (qd. she) though a fooles hearte is with thing rauished, yet therefore is no generall cause of the powers, ne of a siker parfite heart, to be looked after. Was not Nero the most shrew, one of thilk that men rede, and yet had he power to make Senators, Iustices, and Princes of many lands? Was not that great power? Yes certes (qd. I.) Well (qd. she) yet might he not help himself out of disease, when he gan fall. How many ensamples canst thou remember of kings, great and noble, and huge power holden, and yet they might not keep hemselue from wretchednesse. How wretched was king Henry Curtmantill ere he died? He had not so much as to couer with his members: and yet was he one of the greatest kings of all the Normands offspring, and most possession had. O, a noble thing and clear is power, that is not founden mighty to keep himself.
Now truly, a great fool is he, that for such thing would set the knot in thine heart. Also power of realms is not thilk greatest power, amongs the worldly powers reckened? And if such powers han wretchednesse in hemself, it followeth other powers of feebler condition to been wretched, and then that wretchednesse should ben cause of such a knot. But euery wight that hath reason, wote well that wretchednesse by no way may been cause of none such knot, wherefore such power is no cause. That powers haue wretchednesse in hemself, may right lightly been preued.
[Page 510] If power lacke on any side, on that side is no power, but no power is wretchednesse: for all be it so, y• power of emperors or kings, or els of their realms (which is the power of the Prince) stretchen wide & broad, yet besides is there mokel folke, of which he hath no commandement ne lordship, and there as lacketh his power, his nonpower entreth, where vnder springeth y• maketh hem wretches. No power is wretchednesse, and nothing els: but in this maner hath kings more portion of wretchednesse, than of power. Truly such powers been vnmighty, foreuer they ben in drede, how thilke power from lesing may be keeped of sorrow, so drede sorrily pricks euer in their herts: Little is that power, whych careth and feardeth it selfe to maintaine. Vnmighty is y• wretchednesse, which is entered by y• feardfull wening of the wretch himself: and knot ymaked by wretchednesse, is betweene wretches, & wretches all thynge bewaylen: wherefore the knotte should be bewayled, and there is no such parfite blisse that we supposed at the ginning. Ergo power in nothyng, should cause such knottes. Wretchednesse is a kyndely property in such power, as by way of drede, which they mowe not eschew, ne by no way liue in sikernesse. For thou wost well (qd. she) hee is nought mightye, that woulde done that hee may not done ne perfourme. Therefore (qd. I) these kings and lords that han suffisaunte at the full, of men and other things, mowen well ben holden nughty: their commaundements been done, it is neuer more denied. Fool (qd. she) or he wot himself mighty, or wote it not: * For he is nought mighty, yt is blind of his might, & wote it not. That is footh (qd. I) Then if he wote it, he must needs been adradde to lesen it. He that wote of his might, is in doubt that hee mote needes lese, & so leadeth him dreade to been vnmighty. And if he retch not to le [...]e, little is y• worth, that of the lesing reason retcheth nothing: and if it were mighty in power or in strength, the leasing should ben withset, & when it commeth to y• leasing, he may it not withsitte. Ergo thilke might is leud & naughty. Such mights arne ylike to posts and pillars that vpright stonden, and great might han to beare many charges, and if they croke on any side, little thyng maketh hem ouerthrow. This is a good ensample (qd. I) to pillers and postes y• I haue seen ouerthrowed my selfe, and hadden they ben vnderput with any helpes, they had not so lightly fall. Then holdest thou him mighty, that hath many men armed, & many seruaunts, and euer he is adradde of hem in his heart, & for he gasteth hem sometime, he mote the more feare haue. * Commonly he that other agasteth, other in him ayenward werchen the same: & thus warnished mote he be, and of warnish y• houre drede: Little is that might, and right leaude, who so taketh heed. Then seemeth it (qd. I) that such famulers about kinges and great lords, shul great might haue. Although a sipher in augrim haue no might in signification of it selue, yet he yeueth power in signification to other, & these clepe I the helpes to a post, to keep him from falling. Certes (qd. she) thilke skils been [...]eaud. Why? but if the shores been well grounded, the helpes shullen sliden and suffer the charge to fall, her myght little auayleth. And so me thinketh (qd. I) y• a poste alone stondyng vpright vpon a basse, may lenger in great burthen endure, than croked pillers for all their helpes, and her ground he not siker. That is sooth (qd. she) for as y• blinde in bearing of the lame ginne stomble, both should fall, right so such pillers so enuironned with helpes in fayling of y• ground, fayleth all togider: howe oft then such famulers in their most pride of prosperity ben suddainly [...]uerthrown? Thou hast know many in a moment so ferre ouerthrow, that recouer might they neuer, when y• heauinesse of such falling cometh by case of fortune, they mow it not eschew: and might and power, if there were any, should of strength such things void and weiue, and so it is not. Lo then whyche things is this power, y• tho men han it they ben agast, & in no time of full hauing be they siker: and if they would weyue drede, as they mowe not, little is in worthinesse. Fie therefore on so noughty thyng any knot to cause. Lo in aduersity, thilke been his foes that glosed and seemed friends in wealth, thus arne his familiers his foes & his enemies: * And nothyng is werse ne more mighty for to annoy, than is a familier enemy, & these things may they not weiue, so truely their might is not worth a cresse. And ouer all thing, he that may not withdrawe the bridle of his fleshlye lustes and his wretched complaintes (nowe thinke on thy selfe) truly he is not mighty: I can seen no way that lithe to the knot. Thilke people then y• setten their hearts vpon such mights & powers, often ben beguiled. Parde he is not mighty, y• may doe any thing, that another may done him the selue, & that men haue as reat power ouer hym, as he ouer other. A justice y• deemeth men, ayenward hath ben often deemed. Buserus slewe his guests, & he was slayne of Hercules his guest. Hugest betraished many menne, and of Collo was be betrayed. * He y• with swerd smiteth, with swerd shall be smitten. Then gan I to studien a while on these thyngs, and made a countenaunce with my hand in manner to been huisht. Now let seene (qd. she) me thinketh somewhat there is within thy soule, that troubleth thy vnderstanding, say on what it is. (Qd. I tho) me thinketh that although a man by power haue such might ouer mee, as I haue ouer other, that disprooueth no might in my persone, but yet may I haue power and might neuer the later. See nowe (qd. she) thine own leaudnesse: He is mighty that may without wretchednesse, and hee is vnmighty that may it not withsitte: but then he that might ouer thee, and he woll put on the wretchednesse, thou might it not withsitte. [Page 511] Ergo thou seest thy selfe what followeth. But now (qd. she) wouldest thou not scorn and thou see a flye han power to done harme to another fly, and thilke haue no might ne ayenturning himselfe to defend. Yes certes (qd. I) Who is a frayler thyng (qd. she) than the fleshly body of a man, ouer whych haue oftentime flyes, and yet lasse thyng than a flye mokell myght in greuaunce and annoying, withouten any withsitting, for all thi [...]e mannes mights. And sithen thou seest thine fleshly body in kindely power fayle, howe should then the accident of a thyng been in more surety of being then substantiall: wherfore thilke things that we cleape power, is but accident to the fleshly body, and so they may not haue that surety in might, whych wanteth in the substantiall body. Why there is no waye to the knot, that looketh aright after the high waye as he should.
VErely it is prooued, that richesse, dignity, and power, been not trew way to the knot, but as rathe by such things the knot to be vnbound: Wherefore on these things I rede no wight trust, to get any good knot. But what should we say of renome in the peoples mouths, shuld that beene any cause, what supposest thou in thine heart?
Certes (qd. I) yes I trow, for your slye reasons I dare not safely it say. Then (qd. she) woll I proue, that shrewes as rathe shull ben in the knot as the good, and that were ayenst kind. Fayne (qd. I) would I that hear, me thinketh wonder how renome should as well knit a shrewe as a good persone: renome in euery degree hath auaunced, yet wist I neuer the contrary: should then renoume accorde with a shrewe? It may not sinke in my stomacke till I heare more. Now (qd. she) haue I nat said always, that shrewes shull not haue the knot. What needeth (qd. I) to reherse that any more, I wote well euery wight by kindely reason, shrewes in knitting woll eschewe. Then (qd. she) the good ought thilke knot to haue. How els (qd. I.) It were great harme (qd. she) that the good were weiued and put out of espoire of the knot, if he it desired. O (qd. I) alas, on such thing to thinke, I wene that heauen weepeth to see such wrongs here beene suffered on yearth: the good ought it to haue, and no wight els. The goodnesse (qd. she) of a person may not been know outfoorth, but by renome of the knowers, wherefore he must be renomed of goodnesse to come to the knot. So must it be (qd. I) or els all lost that we carpen. Soothly (qd. she) that were great harme, but if a good man might haue his desires in seruice of thilke knot, and a shrewe to be weined, and they been not knowen in generall but by lacking and praysing and in renome, and so by the consequence it followeth, a shrew been praysed and knit, and a good to be forsake and vnknit. Ah (qd. I tho) haue ye lady ben here abouten, yet wold I see by grace of our arguments better declared, how good and bad do accorden by lacking and praysing, me thinketh it ayenst kind. Nay (qd. she) & that shalte thou see as yerne: these elements han contrarious qualities in kinde, by whych they mow not accord no more than good and bad: and in qualities they accorde, * So that contraries by quality accorden by quality. Is not yearth dry, and water that is next & between the earth, is wete, dry & wete ben contrary, and mowen not accorde, and yet this discordaunce is bounde to accorde by clouds, for both elements ben cold. Right so the eyre that is next the water, is wete, and eke it is hote. This eyre by his heat contrarieth water that is cold, but thilke contrariously is oned by moysture, for both bee they moist. Also the fire that is next the yearth, and it encloseth all about, is dry, wherethrough it contrarieth eyre that is wete: and in he [...]e they accord, for both they been hote. Thus by these accordaunces, discordaunts been joyned, and in a manner of accordaunce they accorden by connection, that is knitting togider: of that accord commeth a manner of melody, that is right noble. Right so good and bad arne contrary in doings, by lacking and praysing: good is both lacked and praysed of some, and badde is both lacked and praysed of some: wherefore they contrariously accorde both by lacking and praysing. Then followeth it, though good be neuer so mokell praysed, oweth more to ben knit than the bad: or els bad for the renome that he hath, must be taken as well as the good, and that oweth not. No forsooth (qd. I.) Well (qd. she) then is renome no way to y• knot: lo foole (qd. she) how clerkes writen of such glory of renoume. * O glory, glory, thou art none other thing to thousands of folke, but a great sweller of eares. Many one hath had full great renome by false opinion of variaunt people: And what is fouler than folke wrongfully to beene praysed, or by mallice of y• people guiltlesse lacked? Needes shame followeth thereof to hem y• with wrong prayseth, & also to the deserts praised, and villany and reproofe of him that disclaundreth.
Good child (qd. she) what echeth such renome to the conscience of a wise man, y• looketh & measureth his goodnes, not by sleuelesse words of the people, but by soothfastnesse of conscience: by God nothing. And if it be faire a mans name be eched by much folkes praysing, & fouler thing y• mo folke not praysen. I said to thee a little here beforn, that no folke in straunge countries nought praysen, suche renoume maye not commen to their eares, because of vnknowing, & other obstacles, as I sayed: Wherefore more folke not praysen, and that is right foule to him y• renome desireth, to wete lesse folk praysen, than renome enhaunce. * I trow the thank of a people is naught worth, in remembraunce to take, ne it proceedeth of no wise judgement, neuer is it stedfast perdurable: It is veine & [Page 512] sleyng, with winde wasteth and encreaseth. Truly such glory ought to be hated. If gentillesse be a cleare thyng, renome & glorye to enhaunce, as in reckening of thy linage, than is gentillesse of thy kinne, for why it seemeth that gentillesse of thy kinne, is but praysing & renome yt come of thyne auncestres deserts, & if so be that praysing & renome of their deserts, make their clear gentilesse, then mote they needs been gentil for their gentle deeds, & not thou: for of thy self commeth not such manner gentillesse, praysing of thy deserts. * Then gentillesse of thyne auncesters, that forrain is to thee, maketh thee not gentle, but vngentle and reprooued, & if thou continuest not their gentillesse. * And therefore a wise man ones said: Better is it thy kin to ben by thee gentled, than thou to glorifie of thy kins gentillesse, & hast no desert thereof thy self.
How passing is ye beauty of fleshly bodies? More flittyng than mouable flours of Summer. And if thine eyen weren as good as the Linx, yt may seen thorow many stone wals, and both faire & foule in their entrailes, of no manner hewe should appear to thy sight, yt were a foule sight. Then is fairnesse by feeblesse of eyen, but of no kind, wherefore thilke should be no way to the knot: When thilke is went, the knot wendeth after. Lo now at all prooues, none of all these thyngs mowe parfitly ben in vnderstanding, to beene way to the duryng blisse of the knot. But now to conclusion of these matters, herkeneth these words. Very summer is know from ye winter: in shorter course draweth the dayes of December, than in ye moneth of Iune: The springs of May faden & followen in October. These thynges be not vnbounden from their old kind, they haue not lost her work of their proper estate. Men of voluntarious will withsit yt heuens gouerneth. Other things suffren thinges patiently to werche: * Man in wt estate he be, yet would he ben chaunged. Thus by queint thyngs blisse is desired, and the fruit that commeth of these springs, nis but anguis and bitter, although it be a whyle sweet, it may not be withhold, hastely they depart: * Thus all day fayleth things yt fooles wend. Right thus hast thou fayled in thy first wening. He yt thinketh to sayle, & draw after the course of that starre, de Polo Antartico, shall he neuer come Northward to ye contrary sterre of Polus Articus: of whyche things if thou take keepe, thy first outwaye going, prison and exile may be cleaped. The ground falsed vnderneath, and so haste thou fayled. No wight I wene blameth hym that stinteth in misgoyng, and seecheth ready way of his blisse. Now me thinketh (qd. she) that it sufficeth in my shewing the wayes: by dignity, richesse, renome, and power, if thou looke clearely, arne no wayes to the knot.
EVery argument lady (qd. I tho) that ye han maked in these fore nempned matters, mee thinketh hem in my full witte conceiued, shall I no more, if God wil, in the contrary be beguyled: But fayne would I, and it were your will, blisse of the knot to me were declared, I might feele the better howe my hearte myght assent to pursue the end in seruice, as he hath begon. O (qd. she) there is a melody in heuen, whych clerks cleapen armony, but that is not in breaking of voyce, but it is a manner sweet thyng of kindly werching, that causeth ioy out of nomber to recken, and that is joined by reason and by wisedome, in a quantity of proportion of knitting. God made all thyng in reason & in witte of proportion of melody, we mow not suffice to shew. It is written by great clerks & wise, yt in earthly things lightly by study & by trauayle, yt knowing may be getten: but of such heauenly melody, mokell trauayle woll bring out in knowing right little. Sweetnesse of this paradice hath you ravished, it seemeth ye slepten, rested from all other diseases, so kindly is your heartes therein ygrounded. * Blysse of two hearts in full loue knitte, may not aright been imagined: euer is their contemplation in ful of thoughty study to pleasaunce, matter in brynging comforte eueriche to other. And therefore of earthly thyngs, mokell matter lightly commeth in your learning. Knowledge of vnderstanding that is nigh after yee, but not so nigh ye couetise of knitting in your hearts: * More soueraign desire hath euery wight in little hearing of heauenly conning, than of mokell materiall purposes in yearth. Right so it is in property of my seruaunts, yt they ben more affyched in stering of little thing in his desire, than of mokell other matter, lasse in his conscience. This blisse is a manner of sowne delicious, in a queint voice touched, & no dinne of notes: there is none impression of breaking labour. I can it not otherwise nempne, for wanting of priuy words, but paradise terrestre, full of delicious melody, withouten trauayle in sown perpetuel seruice in full joy coveited to endure. Only kind maketh hearts in vnderstanding so to sleep, that otherwise maye it not been nempned, ne in other manere names for likyng sweetnesse can I nat it declare, all sugar & honey, all minstralcy & melody been but soot & gall in comparison, by no manner proportion to recken, in respect of this blisful joy. This armony, this melody, this perdurable joy may nat be in doing, but between heauens & elements, or twey kindly hearts, full knit in trouth of naturell vnderstanding, withouten wening and deceite, as heauens and planets, whych things continually for kindly accordaunces, foryeteth al contrarious meuings, that into passyue diseases may sowne, euermore it thristeth after more werking. These thyngs in proportion be so well joyned, that it vndoeth all thyng, which into badnesse by any way may be accompted. Certes (qd. I) this is a thyng precious & noble. Alas, that falsenesse euer or wantrust should euer be mainteined, this joy [Page 513] to void. Alas y• euer any wretch should thorow wrath or enuy, jangling dare make, to shoue this melody so far aback, y• openly dare it not been vsed: truely wretches been fulfilled with enuy & wrath, & no wyght els. Flebring and tales in such wretches dare appear openly in euery wights eare, with full mouth so charged, mokell mallice moued many innocents to shend, God would their soul therewith were strangeled. Lo, trouth in this blisse is hid, & ouer al vnder couert hym hideth: He dare nat come a place for waiting of shrewes. Commonly badness, goodness amaistereth with my self & my soul this joy would I buy, if y• goodness were as much as y• nobly in melody. O (qd. she) wt goodness may be accompted more in this material world, truly none, y• shalt thou vnderstand. Is not euery thing good y• is contrariaunt and destroying euill? How els (qd. I.) Enuy, wrath, and falsenesse been generall (qd. she) and yt wote euery man being in his right mynd, y• knot y• whych we haue in this blesse, is contrariaunt, & distroyeth such manner euils. * Ergo it is good, wt hath caused any wight to do any good dede? Find me any good, but if this knot be the cheefe cause: Needes mote it be good, that causeth so many good deeds. * Euery cause is more, and worthier than thing caused, & in that mores possession, all things lesse been compted. As the king is more than his people, & hath in possession all his realme after: Right so y• knot is more than all other goods, thou might recken all things lasse, & that to him longeth oweth into his mores causes of worship and of will do tourne, it is els rebell, and out of his mores defendyng to voyde. Right so of euery goodnesse into the knot & into the cause of his worship oweth to tourne. And truely, euery thyng y• hath being, profitably is good, but nothyng hath to been more profitably than this knot: Kings it maintayneth, & hem theyr powers to maintayne: It maketh misse to been amended, with good gouernaunce in doing: It closeth herts so togider, y• rancour is outthresten: Who yt it lengest keepeth, lengest is gladded. I trow (qd. I) heretikes, and misse meaning people hence forward woll maintain this knotte, for therethrough shull they been maintayned, & vtterly woll tourne, & leaue their old euill vnderstanding, and knit this goodness, & profer so fer in seruice yt name of seruaunts might they haue. Their jangles shall cease, me thinketh hem lacketh matter now to alledge. Certes (qd. Loue) if they of good will thus tourned as thou sayest wollen truly perform, yet shull they be abled party of this blisse to haue: and they wol not, yet shull my servaunts that werr wel susteyne in mine help of maintenaunce to the end. And they for their good trauaile shullen in reward so been meded, y• endless joy, body & soul togider, in this shullen abiden, there is euer action of blisse withouten possible corruption, there is action perpetuell in werke without trauayle, there is euerlasting passyfe withouten any of labour: continuell plite without ceasing coveited to endure. No toung may tell, ne heart may think the least poynt of this blisse. God bring me thider (qd. I then.) Continueth well (qd. she) to the end, and thou myght not fail then, for though thou speed not here, yet shall the passion of thy martired life been written, & radde toforne the great Iupiter, yt God is of routh, an high in the hollownesse of heauen, there he sit in his trone, and euer thou shalt forward been holden among all these heuins for a knight, that mightest with no pennaunce been discomfited. He is a very martir, that liuingly going, is gnawn to the bones. Certes (qd. I) these been good words of comfort, a little mine heart is rejoyced in a merry wise. Ye (qd. she) and he y• is in heauen feeleth more joy, than when he first heard thereof speak. So it is (qd. I) but wist I the sooth, that after disease comfort would follow with bliss, so as ye haue often declared, I would well suffer this passion with y• better cheare, but my thoughtful sorrow is endless, to think how I am cast out of a welfare, & yet daineth not this euill none heart none heed to meward throw, which things would greatly me by wayes of comfort disport, to weten in my selfe a little with other me been ymoned: and my sorrows peisen not in her ballaunce ye weight of a pease: Slinges of her daunger so heauily peisen, they drawe my causes so high, yt in her eyen they semen but lite and right little.
O, for (qd. she) heauen with skies, that foul clouds maken, and dark wethers, with great tempests and huge, maketh the merry dayes with soft shining sonnes. Also the year withdraweth floures, and beauty of hearbes & of yearth. The same years maketh springes & jolity in Vere so to renouel with painted colours, that earth seemed as gay as heauen. Sees that blasteth, & with wawes throweth shippes of which y• liuing creatures for great perill of hem dreden: right so the same sees maketh smooth waters and golden sayling, and comforteth hem, with noble hauen that first were so ferde. Hast thou not (qd. she) learned in thy youth, * That Iupiter hath in his wardrobe both garments of joy & of sorrow? What wost thou how soon he woll turne of thee that garment of care, and clothe thee in bliss? Parde it is not ferre fro thee. Lo an old prouerb alleadged by many wise: * When bale is greatest, then is bote a nie bore. * Wherof wilt thou dismay? Hope well, & serue well, and that shall thee saue, with thy good bileue. Ye, ye (qd. I) yet see I not by reason how this bliss is comming, I wote it is contingent, it may fall another. O (qd. she) I haue mokell to done to clear thine vnderstanding, & void these errours out of thy mind, I woll proue it by reason thy wo may not alway enduren. Euery thing kindly (qd she) is gouerned & ruled by ye heuenly bodies, which hauen full werching here on earth, and after [Page 514] course of these bodies, all course of your doings here been gouerned and ruled by kind. Thou wost well by course of planets all your dayes proceeden, & to euerich of singular houres be enterchaunged stoundmele about, by submitted worching naturally to suffer, of whyche chaunges cometh these transitory times, that maketh reuoluing of your yeares thus stoundmele, euery hath full might of worching, till all seuen han had her course about. Of which worchings and possession of hours, ye days of y• week haue take her names, after denomination in these seuen planets. Lo your sunday ginneth at y• first hour after noon on y• saturday, in which hour is then the sunne in ful might of worching, of whom sunday taketh his name. Next him followeth Venus, & after Mercurius, & then the Moon, so then Saturnus, after whom Iouis, & then Mars, and ayen then the Sunne, and so forth be xxiiii. houres togider, in which hour, ginning in the ii. day stant the Moone, as maister for y• time to rule, of whom Munday taketh his name, & this course followeth of all other days generally in doing. This course of nature of these bodies changing, stinten at a certain term, limitted by their first kind, and of hem all gouernments in this elemented world proceden, as in springs, constellations, engendrures, & all y• followen kind & reason, wherefore the course that followeth sorrowe and joye, kindely moten enterchaungen their times, so that alway one wele as alway one wo may not endure. Thus seest thou apertly thy sorow into wele mote been changed, wherfore in such case to better side euermore encline thou shouldest. * Truly next the end of sorrow anone entreth joy, by manner of necessity, it woll ne may none other betide, & so thy contigence is disproued: if thou hold this opinion any more, thy wit is right leud. Wherefore in full conclusion of al this, thilk Margarit thou desirest, hath ben to thee dere in thy hert, & for her hast thou suffered many thoughtfull diseases, hereafter shall be cause of mokell mirth and joy, and look how glad canst thou beene, and cease all thy passed heavinesse with manifold joyes: & then woll I as blithely here thee speaken thy mirths in joy, as I now haue yheard thy sorowes & thy complaints. And if I mowe in aught thy joy encrease, by my trouth on my side shall nat be leaued for no manner trauaile, y• I with all my mights right blithely woll helpe, & euer been ready you both to please. And then thanked I that lady with all goodly manner yt I worthely coud, and truly I was greatly rejoiced in mine heart of her faire behests, and profered me to be slaw in all yt she me would ordain while my life lested.
ME thinketh (qd. I) that ye haue right well declared, that way to the knot should not beene in none of these disproovyng things, and now order of our purpose this asketh, that ye should me shew if any way be thither, and which thilke way should been, so that openly may be sey the very high way in full confusion of these other things.
Thou shalt (qd she) vnderstand, that one of three liues (as I first said) euery creature of mankind is sprongen, & so forth proceedeth. These liues been thorow names departed in threee manner of kinds, as bestiallich, manlich, & reasonabliche, of which two been vsed by fleshly body, & the third by his soul. Bestial among reasonables is forboden in euery law and euery seet, both in Christen and other, for euery wight dispiseth hem y• liueth by lusts & delites, as him that is thrall and bounden servaunt to thynges ryght foule, such beene compted werse than men, he shall nat in their degree been reckened, ne for such one allowed. Heriticks saine they chosen life bestiall, that voluptuously liuen, so that (as I first said to thee) in manly and reasonable liuyngs, our matter was to declare but manlye life in lyving after flesh, or els fleshly wayes to chese, may nat blisse in this knot be conquered, as by reason it is proved. Wherefore by reasonable life he must needs it haue sith a way is to this knot, but nat by the first tway liues, wherefore needs mote it been to the third: and for to liue in flesh, but nat after flesh, is more reasonablich than manlych rekened by clerkes. Therefore how this way commeth in, I woll it blithly declare.
See now (qd. she) that these bodily goods of manlich liuings, yeelden sorrowfully stounds and smertand hours. Who so well remember him to their ends, in their worchings they ben thoughtfull and sorry. Right as a bee y• hath had his honey, anone at his flight beginneth to sting: So thilke bodily goods at the last mote away, and then sting they at her going, wherethrough entreth and clean voideth all blisse of this knot.
Forsooth (qd. I.) me thinketh I am well served, in shewing of these words. Although I had little in respect among other great and worthy, yet had I a fair parcel, as me thoght for y• time, in forthering of my sustenaunce, which while it dured, I thought me hauyng mokell honey to mine estate. I had richesse sufficiauntly to weiue neede, I had dignity to be reuerenced in worship. Power me thought that I had to keep fro mine enemies, and me seemed to shine in glory of renome, as manhood asketh in mean, for no wight in mine administration, coud none euils ne trechery by soth cause on me put. Lady, your selue weten well, y• of tho confederacies, maked by my soveraigns, I nas but a seruaunt, & yet mokell meane folke woll fullye ayenst reason thilke matters mainteine, in which maintenaunce glorien themself, and as often ye hauen said, thereof ought nothing in euill to be laid to me wards, sithen as repentant I am tourned, & no more I think, neither tho things ne none such other to sustene, but vtterly destroy without meddling maner, in all my mights. How [Page 515] am I now cast out of all sweetnesse of blysse, and mischeeuously stongen my passed joye? Sorrowfully must I bewayle, and liue as a wretch. Euery of tho joyes is turned into his contrary: for richesse, now haue I pouertye, for dignity now am I enprisoned, in steede of power, wretchednesse I suffer, & for glory of renome I am now dispised, & foulich hated: thus hath farne fortune, that suddainly am I ouerthrowen, & out of all wealth dispoyled. Truly me thinketh this way in entree is right hard, God graunt me better grace ere it be all passed, y• other way lady, me thought right sweet. Now certes (qd. Loue) me list for to chide. What aileth thy dark dulnesse? Woll it not in clerenesse been sharped. Haue I not by many reasons to thee shewed, such bodily goods failen to yeue blesse, their might so ferre fo [...]th woll not stretch? Shame (qd. she it is to say) thou liest in thy words. Thou ne hast wist but right few, that these bodily goods had all at ones, commonly they dwellen not togither. * He that plenty hath in riches, of his kin is ashamed: another of linage ryght noble and well know, but pouerty him handeleth, he were leuer vnknowe. Another hath these, but renome of peoples praysing may he not haue, ouer all he is hated, & defamed of things right foule. Another is faire and semely, but dignity him faileth: and he yt hath dignity, is crooked or lame, or els mishapen, and fouly dispised. Thus partable these goods dwellen, commonly in one houshold been they but [...]ilde. Lo how wretched is your trust, on thing y• woll not accord. Me thinketh thou clepest thilke plite thou were in, selinesse of fortune, & thou sayest for that y• silinesse is departed, thou art a wretch. Then followeth this vpon thy words, euery soul reasonable of man way not dye, and if death endeth selinesse, & maketh wretches, as needes of fortune maketh it an end. Then soules after death of the body, in wretchednesse should lyuen. But we know many that han getten the blisse of heauen after their death. How then may this life maken men blisful, y• when it passeth, it yeueth no wretchednes, & many times blisse, if in this life he con liue as he should. And wolt thou accompt with Fortune, that now at the first she hath done thee tene and sorrow: if thou looke to the maner of all glad things and sorrowful, thou maist not nay it, that yet, & namely now, thou standest in noble plite in a good ginning, with good forth going hereafter. And if thou wene to be a wretch, for such wealth is passed, why then art thou not well fortunate, for badde thinges & anguis wretchednes ben passed? Art thou now come first into the hostry of this life, or els y• both of this world, art thou now a suddaine guest into this wretched exile? Wenest there be any thyng in this yearth stable? Is not thy first arrest passed, yt brought thee in mortal sorrow? Ben these not mortal things agone, with ignoraunce of beastiall wit, and haste receiued reason in knowing of vertue? What comfort is in thy hert? The knowyng sikerly in my seruice be grounded. And wost thou not well, as I said, that death maketh end of all fortune? What then, standest thou in noble plite, litle heed or recking to take, if thou let fortune passe ding, or els that she flie when she list, now by thy liue. Parde a man hath nothing so lefe as his life, & for to hold that, he doth all his cure & dilligent trauaile. Then say I thou art blisful and fortunate selie, if thou know thy goods, yt thou hast yet be loued, whych nothing may doubt, yt they ne ben more worthy than thy life? What is that (qd. I) Good contemplation (qd. she) of well doing in vertue, in time comming, both in plesaunce of me, & of thy Margarite pearle: hastely thyne heart in full blisse, with her shall be eased. Therefore dismay thee not, fortune in hate greeuously ayenst thy bodily person, ne yet to great tempest hath she not sent to thee, sithen the holding cables and ankers of thy life holden by knitting so fast, yt thou discomfort thee nought of time that is now, ne dispair thee not of time to come, but yeuen thee comfort in hope of well doyng, & of getting again the double of thy lesing, with encreasing loue of thy Margarite pearle thereto. For this hiderto thou hast had all her full danger, & so thou might amend all yt is misse, and all defaultes yt sometime thou diddest, & that now in all thy time, to y• ilke Margarite in full seruice of my lore, thine heart hath continued, wherefore she ought much y• rather encline fro her daungerous seat. These things ben yet knit, by y• holding anker in thy liue, & holden mote they: To God I pray all these things at full been performed. For while this anker holdeth, I hope thou shalt safely escape, and while thy true meaning seruice about bring, in dispite of all false meaners, y• thee of new haten, for this true seruice, thou art now entered.
CErtes (qd. I) among things I asked a question, whych was the way to the knot. Truely lady, how so it be, I tempt you with questions and answeres, in speaking of my first seruice, I am now in full purpose in the pricke of the hert, that thilk seruice was an enprisonment, & alway bad & naughty, in no manner to be desired. Ne y• in getting of y• knot may it nothing availe. A wise gentill heart looketh after vertue, & none other bodily joyes alone. And because toforne this, in tho wayes I was set, I wot well my selfe I haue erred, & of the blisse failed, & so out of my way hugely haue I ron. Certes (qd. she) yt is sooth, & there thou hast miswent, eschew yt path from hence forward I rede. Wonder I truely, why the mortall folke of this world seech these ways outforth, and it is priued in your self. Lo how ye ben confounded with errour and folly. The knowing of very cause and way, is goodness and vertue. Is there any thing to thee more precious than thy self? Thou shalt haue in thy [Page 516] power, y• thou wouldest neuer lese, and that in no way may be taken fro thee, and thilke thing is y• is cause of this knot. And if deth mowe it not reue, more than an yearthly creture, thilk thing then abideth with thy self soul. And so our conclusion, to make such a knot thus getten, abideth with this thing, & with the soul, as long as they last. * A soul dieth neuer, vertue and goodnesse euermore with the soule endureth, and this knot is perfite blisse. Then this soule in this blisse, endlesse shall enduren. Thus shull herts of a true knot been eased: thus shull their soules been pleased: thus perpetually in joy shul they sing. In good truth (qd. I) here is a good beginning, yeue vs more of this way. (Qd. she) I sayd to thee not long sithen, that reasonable life was one of three things, & it was prooued to the soule. Euery soul of reason, hath two things of steryng life, one in vertue, & another in y• bodily workyng: * And when the soule is the maister ouer the body, then is a manne maister of himselfe: and a man to be a maister ouer himself, liueth in vertue, & in goodnesse, and as reason of vertue teacheth. So the soule and the body worching vertue togider, liuen reasonable life, whiche clearkes clepen felicity in liuing, and therein is y• hie way to this knot. These old Philosophers, that hadden no knowyng of Diuine grace of kindely reason alone, wenden that of pure nature, without any helpe of grace, me might haue ishoned the other liuings, reasonably haue I liued: and for I thinke hereafter, if GOD woll (and I haue space) thilke grace after my leude knowyng declare: I leaue it as at this tyme. But (as I said) he that out foorth looketh after the wayes of this knot, conning with which he should know the way in foorth, sleepeth for the time, wherefore he that woll this way know, must leaue the looking after false waies out foorth, and open the iyen of his conscience, and vnclose his hearte. Seest not he y• hath trust in y• bodily life, is so busie bodily woundes to annoint, in keeping from smert (for all out may they not be healed) yt of woundes in his true vnderstanding, he taketh no heed, the knowing euen foorth sleepeth so hard, but anone as in knowing awake, then ginneth the priuy medicines, for healing of his true entent, inwards lightly healeth conscience, if it be well handled. Then must needs these wayes come out of y• soule by steryng lyfe of the body, and els may no man come to perfite blisse of this knot: and thus by this way he shall come to the knot, and to the perfite silinesse y• he wende haue had in bodily goods outfoorth? Ye (qd. I) shall he haue both knot, riches, power, dignity, and renome in this manner way? Ye (qd. she) yt shall I shew thee. * Is he no riche yt hath suffisance, and hath the power that no man may amaistrien? Is not greate dignity to haue worshippe and reuerence? And hath he not glory of renome, whose name perpetuall is duryng, & out of nomber in comparacion? These be things that men wenen to getten out foorth (qd. I.) Ye (qd. she) they that loken after a thing y• naught is, thereof in all ne in party, longe mowe they gapen after: that is soth (qd. I) therfore (qd. she) they yt sechen gold in greene trees, and wene to gader precious stones emong vines, & laine her nettes in mountaynes to fishe, & thinken to hunt in deepe Seas after Harte & Hinde, and sechen in yearth thilke things that surmounteth Heauen. What may I of hem say? But foolish ignoraunce, misledeth wandryng wretches by vncouth wayes, that shullen be forleten, and maketh hem blinde fro the right pathe of true way, yt should been vsed. Therefore in generall errour in mankinde, departeth thilke goodes by misse seching, which he should haue hole, and he sought by reason. Thus goeth he beguiled of that he sought, in his hode men haue blowe a iape. Now (qd. I) if a man be vertuous, and all in vertue liueth, how hath he all these things? That shall I prouen (qd. she) What power hath any man, to let an other of liuing in vertue? For prisonment or any other disease, he take it paciently, discomfiteth he not, the tiraunt ouer his soule, no power may haue? then hath yt man so tourmented soche power, yt he nill be discomfite, ne ouercome may he not been, sithen pacience in his soule ouercometh, and as not ouercommen. Soch thing that may not be a maistred, he hath neede to nothyng, for he hath suffisaunce inow to helpe himself. And thilke thing that thus hath power and suffisaunce, and no tiraunt may it reue, and hath dignity to sette at naught all thynges, here it is a great dignity that death may a maistry. Wherefore thilke power suffisaunce so enclosed with dignity, by all reason renome must haue. This is thilk riches with suffisaunce ye should look after: this is thilke worshipfull dignity ye should coueit: this is thilke power of might, in which yee shuld trust: this is thilke renome of glory, y• endlesse endureth, & all nis but substaunce in vertuous liuing. Certes (qd. I) all this is sothe, and so I see well y• vertue with full gripe, encloseth all these things. Wherefore in sooth I may say, by my trouth vertue of my Margarite, brought me first into your seruice, to haue knitting with that jewell, not sodaine longynges ne folkes small wordes, but onely our conuersacion togider: and then I seeyng thentent of her true meanyng, with flourishing vertue of Pacience, yt she vsed nothing in euill, to quite y• wicked leasings, that false tongues oft in her haue laid. I haue sey it my selfe, goodly foryeuenesse hath sprong out of her hert, vnity and accorde aboue all other things, she desireth in a good meeke maner, & suffreth many wicked tales.
TRuely Lady, to you it were a great worship, that soch things by due chastisement were amended. Ye (qd. she) I haue thee excused, all soch things as [Page 517] yet mow not be redressed: thy Margarites vertue I commend well the more, that paciently soche annoies suffreth. Dauid king was meeke, and suffred mokell hate, and many euill speaches: no dispite ne shame that his enemies him deden, might not moue pacience out of his hert, but euer in one plite mercy he vsed. Wherefore GOD himself toke reward to the things, and thereon soch punishment let fall. Truly by reason it ought be ensample of drede, to all manner peoples mirth. A man vengeable in wrath, no gouernance in punishment ought to haue. * Plato had a cause his seruaunt to scourge, and yet cleped he his neighbour, to perform the doing himself would not, least wrath had him a maistred, and so might he haue laid on to moch: euermore grounded vertue sheweth the entent fro within. And truly I wot well for her goodnesse and vertue, thou hast desired my seruice, to her pleasaunt well the more, and thy selfe thereto fully hast profered. Good Lady (qd. I) is vertue the hie way to this knot, that long we haue ihandled? Ye forsooth (qd. she) and without vertue, goodly this knot may not be gotten. Ah now I see (qd. I) how vertue in me faileth, and I as a sere tree, without burioning or fruit alway welk, and so I stond in dispair of this noble knot, for vertue in me hath no manner working. A wide where about haue I traveiled. Peace (qd. she) of thy first way thy trauail is in idel, and as touching the second way, I see well thy meaning. Thou wouldest conclude me if thou coudest, bicause I brought thee to seruice, and euery of my servants I help to come to this bliss, as I said here beforn: and thou saidest thy self, thou mightest not be holpen as thou wenest, bicause y• vertue in thee faileth. And this bliss perfitly without vertue, may not be gotten, thou wenest of these words, contradiccion to follow. Parde at the hardest I haue no servant, but he be vertuous in deed & thought, I brought thee in my seruice, yet art thou not my seruant: but I say, thou might so werch in vertue hereafter, that then shalt thou be my seruant, and as for my seruant accompted. * For habit maketh no Monke, ne wearing of guilt spurs, maketh no Knight. Neuer the later, in comfort of thine hert, yet woll I otherwise answer. Certes Lady (qd. I tho) so ye must needs, or els I had nigh caught soch a cordiacle for sorrow, I wot it well I should it neuer haue recouered. And therefore now I pray to enform me in this, or els I hold me without recouery. I may not long eudure, till this lesson be learned, and of this mischief the remedy knowen. Now (qd. she) be not wrothe, * For there is no man on liue, that may come to a precious thing, long coveited, but he sometime suffre tenefull diseases, and wenest thy self to been vnlich to all other? That may not been: * And with the more sorrow that a thing is getten, the more he hath joy, the ilk thing afterwards to kepe, as it fareth by children in Schole, that for learning arn beaten, when their lesson they foryetten, commonly after a good disciplining with a yerde, they keep right well doctrine of their Schole.
RIght with these woords, on this Lady I threw vp mine iyen, to see her countenaunce and her cheare, and she apperceiuing this fantasie in mine hert, gan her semblaunt goodly on me cast, and said in this wise.
It is well know, both to Reason and Experience in doing, euery actiue woorcheth on his passiue, and when they been togither, actiue and passiue, been icleaped by these Philosophers, if fire be in place, chafing thing able to be chafed or heat, and the ilk things been sette in soche a distaunce, that the one may werche, the other shall suffre. The ilk Margarite thou desirest, is full of vertue, and able to be actiue in goodnesse: But euery hearb sheweth his vertue, outfoorth from within, the Sunne yeueth light, that things may be sey.
Euery fire heateth the like thing that it neighed, & it be able to be heat, vertue of this Margarit outforth wrethe, & nothing is more able to suffer woorching, or woorke catche of the actife, but passife of the same actife, and no passife to vertues of this Margarite, but thee in all my donet can I find, so that her vertue must needs on thee werche, in what place euer thou be, within distaunce of her woorthinesse, as her very passife thou art closed: but vertue may thee nothing profit, but thy desire be perfourmed, and all thy sorrows ceased. Ergo through werching of her vertue, thou shalt easely been holpen, and driven out of all care, and welcome to this long by thee desired.
Lady (qd. I) this is a good lesson, in ginning of my joy: But wete ye well forsooth, though I suppose she haue moch vertue, I would my spousale were prooued, and then may I liue out of doubt, & rejoyce me greatly, in thinking of tho vertues so shewed. I hearde thee say (qd. she) at my beginning, when I receiued thee first for to ferue, yt thy jewell, thilk Margarite thou desirest, was closed in a musk, with a blew shell. Ye forsoth (qd. I) so I said, & so it is Wel (qd. she) euery thing kindly, sheweth it self, this jewell closed in a blew shell, excellence of colours, sheweth vertue from within, * and so euery wight should rather look to the proper vertue of things, than to his forrain goods. If a thing be engendered of good matter, commonly, and for the more part it followeth, after the congelement vertue of the first matter, and it be not corrupt with vices, to proceede with encrease of good vertues: Eke right so it fareth of bad. * Truly great excellence in vertue of linage, for the more part discendeth by kind to the succession in vertues to follow. Wherfore I say, the colours of [Page 518] euery Margarite, sheweth from within the finenesse in vertue.
Kindely heauen, when mery weather is a lofte, appeareth in mans iye of colour in Blewe, stedfastnesse in peace, betokening within and without: Margarite is engendred by heauenly Dewe, and sheweth in it self, by finenesse of colour, whether the engendrure, were maked on morrow or on eue: thus saith kind of this perle. This precious Margarite that thou seruest, sheweth it self discended by nobley of vertue, from this heauenlich dew, nourished and congeled in meeknesse, that mother is of all vertues, and by werks that men seen withouten the signification of the colours, been shewed mercy and pitty in the hert, with peace to all other, and all this is iclosed in a Muskle, who so readily these vertues loken. All thing that hath soule, is reduced into good by meane things, as thus: Into GOD manne is reduced by soules reasonable, and so foorth beasts, or bodies that mow not mouen, after place been reduced into man, by beasts meue that mouen from place to place: so that thilke bodies that han feeling soules, and moue not from places, holden the lowest degree of soling thinges in feeling, and soche been reduced into man by means. So it followeth, the Muskle as mother of all vertues, halt the place of meeknesse, to his lowest degree discendeth doun of heauen, and there by a manner of virgin engendrure, arn these Margarites engendred, and afterward congeled. Made not meekenesse so low the hie heauen, to enclose and catch out therof so noble a dew, that after congelement a Margarite, with endlesse vertue and euerlasting joy, was with full vessell of grace yeuen to euery creature, that goodly would it receiue. Certes (qd. I) these things been right noble, I haue ere this heard the same saws. Then (qd. she) thou wost well these things been sothe? Ye foresothe (qd. I) at the full. Now (qd. she) that this Margarite is ful of vertue, it is well proued, wherefore some grace, some mercy emong other vertues, I wot right well on thee shall discend? Ye (qd. I) yet would I haue better declared vertues in this Margarite, kindly to been grounded. That shall I shew thee (qd. she) (& thou wouldest it learn? Learne, qd. I, what needeth soche wordes: were ye not well Lady your self, that all my cure, all my diligence, and all my might, haue tourned by your counsail, in pleasaunce of that perle, all my thought and all my study, with your help desireth, in worship thilke Iewell, to encrease all my trauail, and all my businesse in your seruice, this Margarite to glad in somhalue: me were leuer her honour, her pleasaunce, and her good chear, thorow me for to be maintained and kept, and I of soch thing in her liking to be cause, than all the wealth of bodily goods ye could reeken. And would neuer GOD, but I put my self in great jeopardy of all that I would, that is now no more but my life alone, rather then I should suffer thilk jewell in any poinct been blemished, as far as I may suffre, and with my might stretch. Soch thing (qd. she) may mokell further thy grace, and thee in my service auance. But now (qd. Loue) wilt thou graunt me thilke Margarite to been good? O good good (qd. I) why tempt ye me and tene with soch maner speach: I would grant that, though I should anon die, and by my trouth fight in the quarel, if any wight would counterplead. It is so moch the lighter (qd. Loue) to proue our entent. Ye (qd. I) but yet would I hear, how ye would proue, that she were good by reasonable skill, that it mowe not been denied, for although I know, and so doth many other, manifold goodnesse and vertue in this Margarite been Printed, yet some men there been, that no goodnesse speaken: and where euer your words been heard, and your reasons been shewed, soch euil speakers Lady, by aucthority of your excellence, shullen been stopped and ashamed. And more, they that han none acquaintance in her person, yet mowe they know her vertues, and been the more enformed in what wise they mow set their herts, when hem list into your seruice any entree make, for truly all this to begin, I wote well my self, that thilk jewell is so precious a pearl as a womanly woman in her kind, in whom of goodnesse, of vertue, and also of answering, shape of limmes, and fetures so well in all poincts according, nothing faileth: I leue that kinde her made with great study, for kind in her person nothing hath foryet, & yt is well seen. In euery good wights herte, she hath grace of commending, and of vertuous praising. Alas that euer kind made her deadly, saue onely in that I wot well, that Nature in forming of her, in nothing hath erred.
CErtes (qd. Loue) thou hast well begonne, and I ask thee this question: Is not in generall euery thing good? I not (qd. I) No (qd. she) saue not GOD euery thing that he made, and wern right good. Then is wonder (qd. I) how euill things commen a place, sithen that all things weren right good. Thus (qd. she) I woll declare: eueriche quality, and euery accion, and euery thing that hath any manner of being, it is of GOD, and GOD it made, of whom is all goodnesse, and all being, of him is no badnesse: * Badde to be is naught: Good to be is somewhat, and therefore good and being, is one in vnderstanding. How may this be (qd. I) for often han shrews me assailed, and mokell badnesse therein haue I founden, and so me seemeth bad, to be somewhat in kind. Thou shalt (qd. she) vnderstand that soch maner of badnesse, which is vsed to purifie wrong doers is somewhat, and GOD it made, and being hath, and that is good: * Other badnesse no being hath vtterly, [Page 519] it is in the negatiue of somewhat, and that is naught, and nothing being. The parties essenciall of being, arne said in double wise, as that it is, and these parties ben found in euery creature, for all thing a this half the first being, is being through participation, taking party of being, so that euery creature is difference, between being, and of him through whom it is and his own being: right as euery good is a maner of being, so is it good through being, for it is naught other to be: and euery thing though it be good, it is not of himself good, but it is good by that, it is ordinable to the great goodnesse. This duality after Clerks determission, is founden in euery creature, be it neuer so single of onhed. Ye (qd. I) but there as it is isaid, that God saw euery thing of his making, and were right good, as your self said to me, not long time sithen: I ask whether euery creature is isaid good, through goodnes vnformed, either els formed, and afterward if it be accept vtterly good? I shall say thee (qd. she) these great passed Clerks, han deuided good, into good being alone, and that is nothing but good, for nothing is good in that wise, but God: Also in good by participacion, and that is icleaped good, for farre fette, and representatiue of goodly goodnesse. * And after this manifold good is said, that is to say, good in kind, and good in gendre, and good of grace, and good of joy.
Of good in kind, Augustine saith, all that been, been good: but peraunter thou wouldst wete, whether of hemself it bee good, or els of an others goodnesse, for naturell goodnesse of euery substaunce, is nothing els than his substaunciall being, which is icleaped goodnes, after comparison that he hath to his first goodnesse, so as it is inductatife, by meanes into the first goodnesse. Boece sheweth this thing at the full, that this name good, is in generall name in kind, as it is comparisoned generally to his principal end, which is God, knot of all goodnesse. Euery creature crieth GOD vs made, and so they han full appetite to thilk God by affection, soch as to him belongeth: and in this wise all things been good, of the great God, which is good alone. This wonder thing (qd. I) how ye haue by many reasons proued, my first way to be error and misgoing, & cause of badnesse and feeble meaning, in y• ground ye alledged to be rooted: whence is it, that soch badnesse hath springes, sithen all things thus in generall been good, and badnesse hath no being, as ye haue declared: I wene if all things been good, I might then with the first way, in that good haue ended, and so by goodnesse haue commen to blisse in your seruice desired. All thing (qd. she) is good by being in participacion, out of the first goodnesse, which goodnesse is corrupt by badnesse, and bad meaning maners: GOD hath in good things, that they been good by being, & not in euell, for there is absence of rightful Loue, for badnesse is nothing onely but euill will of the vser, and through guilts of y• doer, wherfore at the ginning of the world, euery thing by himself was good, & in vniuersall they wern right good. An iye or a hand is fairer & better in a body, sette in his kindly place, than from y• body disceuered. Euery thing in his kindly place being kindly, good doth werch, and out of y• place voided, it dissolueth and is defouled him selue. Our noble GOD in gliterand wise by armony this world ordeined, as in purtreitures, storied with colours medled, in which blacke and other dark colours, commenden the golden, and the Assured painture, euery put in kindly place, one beside an other, more for other glittereth: right so little fair, maketh right fair, more glorious: and right so of goodnesse, and of other things in vertue. Wherfore other bad, and not so good pearls as this Margarite, that we han of this matter, yeuen by the air little goodnesse, and little vertue, right mokell goodnesse, and vertue in thy Margarite to been prooued, in shining wise to be found & shewed. How shold euer goodness of peace haue been know, but if vnpeace sometime reign, and mokell euill wroth? How should mercy been proued, and no trespass were, by due justification to be punished? Therefore grace and goodness of a wight is found, the sorrowful herts in good meaning to endure, been comforted, vnite, and accord between herts knit in joy to abide.
What wenest thou I rejoyce, or els accompt him emong my seruants, that pleaseth Pallas, in vndoing of Mercury, all be it that to Pallas he be knitte by title of Law, not according to the reasonable conscience: and Mercury in doing, haue grace to been suffered: or els him that weneth the Moon, for fairness of the eue Sterre. Lo, otherwhile by nights light of the Moon, greatly comforteth in darke thoughts and blinde. Vnderstanding of loue, yeueth great gladness: Who so list no bileue, when a sooth tale is shewed, adew and adew bliss, his name is entred. Wise folk and worthy in gentillesse, both of vertue and of liuing, yeuen full credence in soothnesse of loue with a good herte, there as good euidence or experience in doing, sheweth not the contrary. Thus mightst thou haue full prefe in thy Margarites goodnesse, by commendment of other jewels badnesse, and iuelnesse in doing. Stoundmele diseases yeueth seueral hours in joy.
Now by my trouth (qd. I) this is well declared, that my Margarite is good, for sithen other been good, and she passeth many other in goodnes and vertue, wherethrough by maner necessary she must be good: and goodnes of this Margarite is nothing els but vertue, wherefore she is vertuous, and if there failed any vertue in any side, there were lack of vertue: bad nothing els is ne may be, but lack and want of good and goodnes, & so should she haue that same lack, that is to sain bad, and that may not be, for she is good, and that [Page 520] is good me thinketh all good: and so by consequence me seemeth vertuous, & no lack of vertue to haue. But the Sun is not know but he shine, ne vertues herbes but they haue her kinde werchyng, ne vertue but it stretch in goodnes or profite to another, is no vertue. Then by all wayes of reason, sithen mercy & pity ben most commended among other vertues, and they might neuer been shewed refreshment of helpe and of comforte, but now at my most need, & that is the kind werking of these vertues: trewly I wene I shall not vary from these helpes.
Fyre, and if he yeue none heat, for fire is not deemed. The Sunne but he shyne, for sunne is not accompted. Water, but it wete, y• name shal been chaunged. Vertue but it werch, of goodnes doth it fail, & in to his contrary ye name shall be reversed, & these been impossible: wherefore the contradictory that is necessary, needs must I leue. Certes (qd. she) in thy person and out of thy mouth these words lien well to been said, and in thine vnderstanding to be leued, as in entent of this Margarite alone: and here now my spech in conclusion of these words.
IN these thynges (qd. she) that me list now to shewe openly, shall be founde the matter of thy sicknesse, and what shall been the medecine that may he thy sorrowes, liste and comforte, as well thee as all other that amisse have erred, and out of the way walked, so that any droppe of good will in amendement been dwelled in theyr heartes. Prouerbes of Salomon openly teacheth, how sometime an innocent walked by the way in blindnesse of a darke night, whome mette a woman (if it be lefelly to say) as a strumpet arayed, redily purueyed in turning of thoughts with vein janglings, and of rest impacient by dissimulacion of my terms, saying in this wise: come and be we dronken of our sweet pappes, vse we coueitous collinges. And thus drawen was this innocent, as an Oxe to the larder. Lady (qd. I) to me this is a queint thing to vnderstand: I pray you of this parable declare me the entent. This innocente (qd. she) is a scholer learning of my lore, in seching of my blisse, in which thing the day of his thought turning enclineth in to eue, and the Sonne of very light fayling, maketh darke night in his conning. Thus in darknesse of many douts he walketh, and for blindenes of vnderstandyng, he ne wote in wt way he is in: forsoth soch one may lightly been begiled. To whom came loue fained, not clothed of my liuery, but vnlefull lusty habite, with softe spech and mery, and with faire honied words heretikes and mis meaning people, skleren and wimplen their errours. Austen witnesseth of an heretike that in his first beginning, he was a man right expert in reasons, and sweet in his words, and y• werkes miscorden. Thus fareth fayned loue in her first werchinges: thou knowest these things for trew, thou hast hem proued by experience. Sometime in doyng to thine own person, in which thing thou hast found matter of mokell disease. Was not fained loue redily purueyed, thy wittes to catch & tourne thy good thoughts? trewly she hath wounded the conscience of many, with florishing of mokell jangling words: and good worthe thanked I it for no glose, I am glad of my Prudence thou hast so manly her veined. To me art thou moche holden, y• in thy kind course of good meaning I returne thy minde: I trow ne had I shewed thee thy Margarite, thou haddest neuer returned. Of first in good parfite joy was euer fayned loue impacient, as the water of Syloe, whiche euermore floweth with stilness & priuy noyse till it come nygh the brink, & then ginneth it so out of measure to bolne, with nouelleries of chaungyng storms, that in course of euery rennyng, it is in point to spill all his circuit of banks. Thus fayned loue priuely at the fullest of his flowyng, new storms debate to arayse. And all be it y• Mercurius often with hole vnderstandyng, knowen soch perillous matters, yet Veneriens so lusty been and so leude in theyr wits, y• in soch things right litell or naught done they fele, & wryten and cryen to their fellows: here is blisse, here is joy, & thus in to one same errour, mokel folk they drawen. Come they sayne, and be we dronken of our pappes, y• been fallas & lying glose of which mowe they not souke milke of health, but deadly venym & poyson, corruption of sorrow. * Mylke of fallas, is venym of disceite: Milke of lying glose is venym of corrupcion. Lo what thing commeth out of these pappes: vse we coueited collinges, desire we & meddle we false wordes with sote, & sote with false, truely this is y• sorinesse of fayned loue, needs of these surfets, sicknesse must follow. * Thus as an Ox to thy langoryng death wert thou drawn, y• sote of the smoke hath thee all defased. Euer ye deeper thou sometime wadest, y• sooner thou it found: if it had thee killed it had be littell wonder. But on y• other side, my trew seruants not faynen ne disceyue conne, soothly their doyng is open, my foundement endureth, be ye burthen neuer so great, euer in one it lasteth: it yeueth lyfe and blisfull goodnesse in the laste ends, though the ginnings been sharp. Thus of two contraries, contrary ben the effects. And so thilke Margarite thou seruest, shall seen thee by her seruice, out of perillous tribulacion delyuered, bycause of her seruice in to new disease fallen, by hope of amendment in the last end, with joy to be gladded, wherefore of kinde pure, her mercy with grace of good helpe, shall she graunt, and els I shall her so straine, that with pity shall she ben amaistred. Remembre in thine heart how horrible sometime to thyne Margarite thou trespassest, & in a great wyse ayenst her thou forfeitest: cleape ayen thy mind, and know thyne owne guiltes. What goodnesse, what [Page 521] thyne own guiltes. What goodnesse, what bounty, with mokell followyng pity found thou in that time? Wert thou not goodly accepted in to grace? By my plucking, was she to foryeuenesse enclined. And after I her stired to draw thee to house, and yet wendest thou vtterly for euer haue ben refused. But well thou woste, sithen yt I in soche sharp disease might so greatly auayle, wt thinkest in thy witte? How ferre may my wit stretch? And thou lach not on thy side I woll make the knotte: Certes in thy good bering I woll accorde with the Psauter. I haue found David in my seruice true, and with holy oyle of peace and of rest long by him desired, vtterly he shall be annointed. Trust well to me, and I woll thee not fayle. The lening of the first way with good hert of continuaunce, yt I see in the grounded, this purpose to parfourme, draweth my by maner of constrayning, that needes must I been thine helper: although mirthe a while be taried, it shal come at soch season, that thy thought shall been joyed: & would neuer GOD, sithen thyne hert to my reasons arne assented, and openly haste confessed thine amisse going, and now criest after mercy, but if mercy followed: thy blisse shall been ready ywis, thou ne wost how sone.
Now be a good childe I rede. The kind of vertues in thy Margarite rehearsed, by strength of me in thy person shull werch. Comfort thee in this, for thou maist not miscary. And these words said, she streight her on length and rested a while.
OF nombre sain these clerks that it is naturell some of discrete thinges, as in telling one, two, three, and so forth: but among all nombres three is determined for most certaine. Wherfore in nombre certain this werke of my besie leudenes, I think to end and parfourme.
Ensample by this worlde in three times is deuided: Of which y• first is cleped Dematian, that is to say, going out of true way: & all that tho dieden, in hell were thy punished for a mans sinne, till grace and mercy fet hem thence, & there ended the first time. The second time lasteth from the coming of merciable grace, vntill the end of transitory time, in which is shewed y• true way in fordoing of y• badde, and that is ycleped time of grace: & that thing is not yeuen by desert of yelding, one benefite for another, but onely through goodnesse of ye yeuer of grace in thilke tyme. Who so can well vnderstand, is shapen to be saued in souled blisse. The third time shal gin when transitory things of worldes han made their end, and that shall been in joy, glory, and red both body and soule, that well han deserued in the tyme of grace. And thus in y• heauen togither shull they dwell perpetuelly, without any ymaginatife yuel in any halue. These times are figured by tho three dayes that our God was closed in yearth, and in the third arose, shewyng our resurrection to joy & blisse, of tho yt it deseruen, by his merciable grace. So this leude booke in three matters accordaunt to tho times, lightely by a good inseer may been vnderstande, as in y• first errour of misse goyng is shewed with sorrowful pine, punished is cried after mercy. In the second is grace in good way proued, which is fayling without desert, thilk first misse amending in correction of tho errours and euen way to bryng with comforte of welfare, in to amendement wexing. And in the third joye and blisse, graunted to him that well can deserue it, and hath sauour of vnderstandyng in the tyme of grace. Thus in joye of my third booke shall the matter be till it end. But speciall cause I haue in my heart to make this processe of a Margarit pearl, that is so precious a gem, with cleere and littell of which stones or Iewel, the tongues of vs English people tourneth the right names, and clepeth hem Margery pearles: thus varieth our speech from many other langages. For trewly Latine, French, and many mo other langages clepeth hem Margery peerles, the name Margarites or Margarit perls: wherefore in that denominacion I woll me accord to other mens tonges, in that name cleping. These clerkes that treaten of kindes, & studien out the property there of things, sayne the Margarit is a littel white pearle, throughout holow and rounde, and vertuous, and on the sea sides in the more Britaine, in muskle shels, of y• heavenly dewe ye best been engendred: in which by experience ben found three fayre vertues. One is, it yeueth comforte to the feling spirits in bodily persones of reason. Another is good, it is profitable health ayenst passions of sory mens hearts. And the third it is needfull and noble in staunching of blood, there els too much would out ren. To which perle and vertues me list to liken at this time Philosophy, with her three speces, that is, naturel, and moral, and reasonable: of which things heareth what saine these great Clerks. Philosophy is knowing of deuinely and manly things joyned with study of good liuyng, and this stante in two things, that is, conning and opinion: conning, is when a thing by certaine reason is conceiued: but wretches, and fooles, and lewd men, many will conceyue a thyng & maintaine it as for a sothe, though reason be in the contrary, wherefore conning is a straunger. Opinion is while a thyng [...] in non certayne, and hidde from mens very knowledging, and by no parfite reason fully declared, as thus: if the sonne be so mokel as men wenen, or els if it be more then ye earth. For in soothnesse y• certaine quantity of that Planet is vnknowen to erthly dwellers, & yet by opinion of some men, it is holden for more than middle erth. The first spece of Philosophy is naturel, which in kindely things treaten, [Page 522] & sheweth causes of heauen, & strength of kindly course: as by Arsmetrike, Geometry, Musike, & by Astronomy, techeth ways and course of Heauens, of Planetes, and of Sterres about Heauen & Earth, & other Elements. The second spece is morall, which in order of liuing maners techeth, & by reason proueth vertues of soule most worthy in our liuyng, which been Prudence, Iustice, Temperaunce, & Strength. Prudence is goodly wisedome in knowyng of thynges: Strength voideth all aduersities aliche euen. Temperaunce distroyeth bestiall liuing with easie bearyng. And Iustice rightfully judgeth, and judging, departeth to euery wight that is his own. The third spece tourneth in to reason of vnderstanding, al things to be said sothe & discussed, and that in two things is deuided: one is Art, another is Rhetorique, in which two all lawes of mans reason been grounded or elles maintayned. And for this book is all of Loue, & thereafter beareth his name, and Philosophy and law must hereto accorden by their clergial discripcions: as Philosophy for loue of wisedom is declared: Law for maintaynaunce of peace is holden: and these with loue must needs accorden, therefore of hem in this place haue I touched. Order of homely things and honest manner of lyuing in vertue, with rightful judgement in causes, & profitable administracion in communalties of Realms & Cities, by euenhede profitably to rayne, nat by singuler auantage, ne by priuy enuy, ne by solein purpose in couetise of worship or of goods, ben disposed in open rule shewed, by Loue, Philosophy, & law, and yet loue toforne all other. Wherfore as susterne in vnity they accorden & one end y• is peace & rest, they causen nourishyng, & in the joy mainteynen to endure. Now then, as I haue declared, my boke accordeth with discripcion of three things, and the Margarite in vertue is likened to Philosophy, with y• three speces. In which matters euer twey been accordant with bodily reason, & the third with the soule: But in conclusion of my book and of this Margarit pearle, in knittyng togider law by three sondry manners shal be lykened, yt is to say, Law, Right, & Custom, which I woll declare: all that is law, commeth of Gods ordinaunce by kindely worchyng: & thilke things ordayned by mans wittes arne icleped right, which is ordayned by many maners and in constitution written: But custome is a thing y• is a [...]cepted for right or for law, there as law & right faylen, and there is no difference, whether it come of Scripture or of reason. Wherefore it sheweth that law is kindly governaunce: right commeth out of mannes probable reason: and custome is of commen vsage by length of time vsed, and custom nat write is vsage, and if it be writte constitution it is iwritten and ycleped: But law of kinde is commen to euery nation, as conjunction of man & woman in loue, succession of children in heritaunce, restitucion of thing by strength taken or leant, & this lawe among all other halte the soueraynest gree in wurship, which lawe beganne at y• beginnyng of reasonable creature, it varied yet neuer for no chaunging of time: cause forsooth in ordainyng of Law, was to constrain mens hardines in to peace, & withdrawing his yuell will, & turning malice into goodnesse, and y• innocence sikerly withouten teneful anoy among shrews, safely might inhabite by protection of safe conduct, so that shrewes harm for harm by brydle of feardenesse shoulden restrayn. But forsothe in kindely lawe nothing is commended, but soche as Gods will hath confirmed, ne nothing denied but contraryoustie of Gods will in Heauen: eke then all lawes or custome, or els constitution by vsage, or writing, yt contrarien law of kinde, vtterly been repugnant & aduersary to our gods will of Heauen. Trewly lawe of kinde for goddes own lusty will is verily to mayntaine, vnder which law (and vnworthy) both professe and reguler arn obediencer and bounden to this Margarit pearl, as by knot of loues statutes & stablishment in kind, which y• goodly may not ben withsetten. Lo vnder this bonde am I constrained to abide, & man vnder liuyng lawe ruled, by yt law oweth after desertes to been rewarded by paine or by mede, but if mercy weiue the pain: so than be parte, reasonfully may be sey, that mercy both right & lawe passeth, thentent of all these matters, is the lest cleere vnderstanding, to weten at the end of this third boke ful knowyng thorow Gods grace, I thinke to make neuerthelater, yet if these things han a good and a sleght inseer which that can souke hony of the hard stone, oyle of y• dry rock, may lightly feele nobly of matter in my leude imaginacion closed.
But for my booke shal be of joy (as I said) and I so ferre set fro thilke place, fro whens gladness should come, my corde is to short to let my boket ought to catch of y• water, and few men be abouten my corde to ech, & many in full purpose been ready it shorter to make, & to enclose thenter, y• my boket of joy nothing should catch, but empty returne, my carefull sorrowes to encrease, & if I die for payne, y• were gladnesse at their hearts. Good Lord send me water in to the cop of these Mountains, & I shall drink thereof my thrustes to stanch: and sey these be comfortable welles in to health of goodnes of my sauiour am I holpen. And yet I say more, the house of joy to me is not opened. How dare my sorrowful goost then in any matter of gladness thynken to trete? for euer sobbings & complaints be ready refrete in his meditacions, as werbles in manyfold stoundes comming about I not than. And therefore what maner of joy coude endite, but yet at dore shall I knock, if y• key of Dauid would ye lock unshyt and he bring me in, which that childrens tonges both openeth and closeth. Whose [Page 523] spirite, where he well worcheth, departing goodly as him liketh. Now to Gods laude & reuerence, profite of ye readers, amendment of maners of ye herers, encreasing of worship among loues seruaunts, releuing of my hert in to grace of my jewel, & frendship pleasance of this pearle, I am stered in this making, & for nothing els: & if any good thing to mens likyng in this scripture be found, thanketh ye maister of grace which y• of that good and all other is authour, & principal doer. And if any thing be insufficient or els mislikyng, with y• that y• lewdness of mine vnable conning, for body in disease annoyeth the vnderstanding in soule. A disesely habitation leteth the wits many thinges, and namely in sorow. The custome neuer the later of loue, be long tyme of seruice in termes I thinke to pursue, which beene liuely to yeue vnderstanding in other thinges. But nowe to enforme thee of this Margarites goodness, I may her not halfe prayse. Wherefore not she for my book, but this book for her is worthy to be commended, tho my book be leude: right as thinges nat for places, but places for things ought to be desired and praysed.
NOw (qd. Loue) truely thy words I haue well vnderstond. Certes me thinketh hem right good, and me wondreth why thou so lightly passest in the law. Sothly (qd. I) my wit is leude and I am right blind and that mater deepe, how shuld I then haue waded, lightly might I haue drenched and spilt there my self. Yea (qd. she) I shal help thee to swim. * For right as law punisheth brekers of precepts, and the contrary doers of ye writen constitucions: right so ayenward, law rewardeth and yeueth mede to hem that law strengthen. By one law this rebel is punished, & this innocent is mede, ye shrew is emprisoned, & this rightful is corowned. The same law that joyneth by wedlock without forsaking, y• same law yeueth libel of departicion bycause of deuorse, both deemed & declared. Ye ye (qd. I) I find in no law to mede & reward in goodnes, the gilty of deserts. Fool (qd. she) gilty conuerted in your law, mykel merite deserueth. Also Pauly of Rome was corowned, yt by him y• mainteiners of Pompeus weren known & distroyed: & yet toforn was this Paulin chiefe of Pompeus counsaile. This law in Rome hath yet his name of mesuring in mede, ye bewraying of y• conspiracy, ordained by tho senatours ye death. Iulius Cesar is accompted into Catons rightwisnesse, for euer in trouth florisheth his name among ye knowers of reason. Perdicas was crowned in y• heritage of Alexander the great, for telling of a priuy hate y• king Porrus to Alexander had. Wherefore euery wight by reason of law after his rightwisenes apertly his mede may chalenge: & so thou y• maintainest law of kind, & therefore disease hast suffred in y• law, reward is worthy to be rewarded and ordayned, & apertly thy mede might thou chalenge. Certes (qd. I) this haue I well lerned, & euer henceforward I shal draw me thereafter in one hed of will to abide this law, both maintain & kepe, and so hope I best entre in to your grace, well deseruing in o worship of a wight, without needful compulsion ought medefully to be rewarded. Truly (qd. Loue) that is soth, & tho by constitucion good seruice in to profite & auauntage stretch, vtterly many men it demen to haue more desert of mede, then good wil nat compelled. Se now (qd. I) how may men holden of this the contrary. And wt is good seruice? Of you wold I here this question declared. I shall say thee (qd. she) in a few words, resonable workings in plesaunce & profite of thy soueraine. How shuld I this perform (qd. I.) Right wel (qd. she) & here me now a litell. It is hardly (qd. she) to vnderstand, that right as mater by due ouerchaungings followeth his perfection & his form: right so euery man by rightfull werkings ought to follow y• lefull desires in his heart, & see toforne to wt end he deserueth, for many times he y• loketh not after thendes, but vtterly thereof is vnknown, befalleth often many yuels to done, wherethrough er he be ware shamefully he is confounded, thende thereof neden to be before looked to euery desire of such foresight, in good seruice three things specially needeth to be rulers in his works. First y• he do good, next yt he do by his election in his own hert, & the third, that he do godly withouten any surquedry in thoughts. That your werkes shulden be good in seruice, or in any other acts, authorites many may be alledged, neuer the latter, by reason thus may it be shewed. All your works be cleped second & mouen in vertue of ye first wercher, which in good works wrought you to proceed, & right so your werks mouen in to vertue of y• last end, & right in y• first working were nat, no man should in y• second werch. Right so but ye feled to wt end, and sen their goodnesse closed, ye should no more retch wt ye wrought but ye ginning gan with good, and there shall it ceafe in the last end, if it be well considred. Wherfore y• midle, if other ways it draw then accordaunt to thends, there stinteth the course of good, and another manner course entreth, & so it is a party by him selue, & euery part be not accordaunt to his all, is foule & ought to be eschewed, wherefore euery thing y• is wrought & be nat good, is nat accordaunt to thendes of his all hole, it is foul, and ought to be withdraw. * Thus the persons that neither done good ne harme, shamen foule their making: Wherefore without working of good acts in good seruice, may no man bene accepted. * Trewlye thlike that han might to do good, and done it not, the crown of worship shal be take from hem, and with shame shul they be anulled. And so to make one werke accordaunt with his endes, euery good seruaunt by reason of consequence must do good needs. Certes it suffiseth not alone to do good [Page 524] but goodly withal follows, y• thank of goodnes els in nought he deserueth: For right as all your beyng, come from the greatest good, in whom all goodness is closed. Right so your ends been direct to y• same good. * Aristotel determineth y• end & good been one, & conuertible in vnderstanding, & he y• in wil doth away good, & he y• loketh not to thend loketh not to good, but he y• doth good and doth not goodly, draweth away thy direction of the end, not goodly, must needs be bad. Lo bad is nothing els, but absence or negatiue of good, as darknesse is absence or negatiue of light. Then he that doth goodly directeth thilke good into thend of badde. So must thing not good follow, eke badnes to such folk oft followeth. Thus contrariaunt workers of thend that is good, been worthy y• contrary of thend that is good to haue. How (qd. I) may any good deed be done, but if goodly it helpe. Yes (qd. Loue) the Deuill doth many good deeds, but goodly he leueth behind, for euen badly & in desceiuable wise he worketh. Wherefore y• contrary of thend him followeth. And do he never so many good dedes, bycause goodly is away, his goodnes is not rekened. Lo then tho a man do good, but he do good, but he do goodly thend in goodnesse wol not folow, and thus in good seruice both good deed and goodly done, musten joyne togider, and that it be done with free choyse in heart: and els deserueth he nat the merite in goodes, that woll I proue. For if thou do any thing good by chaunce or by hap, in what thing art thou thereof worthy to be commended? for nothing by reason of that, turneth in to thy praising ne lacking. Lo thilke thing done by hap by thy will is nat caused, and thereby should I thanke or lack deserue: and sithen y• faileth, thend which y• wel should reward, must needs faile. Clerkes saine, no man but willing is blessed, a good deed y• he hath done is not done of free choyse willing, without which blissednes may nat follow. Ergo nether thanke of goodnesse ne seruice in that is contrary of y• good end, so then to good seruice longeth good deed goodly done, thorow free choise in heart. Truely (qd. I) this haue I well vnderstand. Well (qd. she) euery thing thus done sufficient by lawe that is cleped Iustice, after reward claime. For law & Iustice was ordained in this wise, soch deserts in goodnes after quantite in doing, by mede to reward, and of necessite of soch Iustice, y• is to say, rightwisenes was free choise in deseruing of well or of euil graunted to reasonable creatures. Euery man hath free arbitrement to chose good or iuell to perform. Now (qd. I) tho if I by my good will deserue this Margarit pearle, & am thereto compelled, & haue free choise to do wt me liketh: She is then holden as me thinketh to reward thentent of my good will. Goddes forbode els (qd. Loue) no wight meneth otherwise I trow, free will of good hert after mede deserueth. Hath euery man (qd. I) fre choice by necessary maner of will in euery of his doings, y• him liketh by Gods proper purueyaunce, I wold see yt well declared to my leud vnderstanding, for necessary & necessite ben words of mokel intencion, closing (as to say) so mote it be needs, & otherwise may it nat betide. This shalt thou learn (qd. she) so thou take hede in my spech. If it were nat in mans own liberte of free will to do good or bad, but to y• one tied by bond of Gods preordinaunce: Then do he neuer so well it were by needful compulcion of thilk bond & not by free choise, whereby nothing he desireth, & do he neuer so yuell it were not man for to wite, but onelich to him that soch thing ordained hem to don. Wherfore he ne ought for bad be punished, ne for no good deed be rewarded, but of necessite of rightwisnes was therefore free choice of arbitrement, put in mans proper disposition: truely if it were otherwise, it contraried Gods charity, y• badness & goodness, rewardeth after desert of paine, or of mede. Me thinketh this wonder (qd. I) for God by necessity forwote all things comming, & so mote it needs be: and thilk things yt ben done, be our free choice comen nothing of necessity, but onely by wil: how may this stand togider? and so me thinketh truely, y• free choice fully repugneth Gods forweting. Truely lady, me seemeth they mowe not stand together.
THen gan loue nigh me neere, & with a noble countenance of visage & limmes, dressed her nighe my sittyng place. Take forth (qd. she) thy penne, and redily write these words, for if God woll, I shal hem so enforme to thee, that thy leudness, which I haue vnderstand in y• matter, shall openly be clered, & thy sight in full loking therein amended. First, if thou think y• Gods prescience, repugne liberty of arbetrie of arbitrement, it is impossible y• they should accord in onehed of soth to vnderstanding. Ye (qd. I) forsoth so I it conceiue. Well (qd. she) if thilke impossible were away, the repugnaunce that seemeth to be therein, were vtterly remoued. Shew me thabsence of yt impossibility (qd. I.) So (qd. she) I shall. Now I suppose that they mowe stande togyther, prescience of God, whom followeth necessity of things coming, & liberty of arbitrement, through which thou beleeuest many thyngs, to be without necessity. Both these proporcions be soothe (qd. I) and well mow stand togider, wherefore this case as possible I admit. Truely (qd. she) and this case is impossible. How so (qd. I.) For hereof (qd. she) followeth and wexeth an other impossible. Proue me that (qd. I.) That I shall (qd. she) for something is comming without necessity, and God wote that toforne, for all thyng commyng he before wote, and that he beforne wot of necessity is commyng: as he beforne wot, be the case by necessary maner then, or els thorowe necessity, is something to be without necessity, and whiderto euery wight that hath good vnderstandyng, is seene these things to be repugnaunt. [Page 525] Prescience of GOD, which that followeth necessity, and liberty of arbitrement, fro which is remoued necessity, for truly it is necessary, that God haue forweting of thing, withouten any necessity comming. Ye (qd. I) but yet remeue ye not away fro mine vnderstanding, the necessity following Gods before weting, as thus. GOD beforn wote me in seruice of Loue, to be bounden to this Margarite pearl, and therefore by necessity, thus to loue am I bound, & if I not had loved, through necessity had I been kept from all loue deeds. Certes (qd. Loue) bicause this matter is good & necessary to declare, I think herein well to abide, and not lightly to pass. Thou shalt not (qd. she) say all only God beforn wote me to be a louer, or no louer, but thus: GOD beforn wote me to be a louer, without necessity. And so it followeth, whither thou loue, or not loue, euery of hem is & shal be. But now thou seest the impossibility of y• case, and the possibility of thilk that thou wendest had been impossible, wherfore the repugnance is adnulled. Ye (qd. I) and yet do ye not away the strength of necessity, when it is said, though necessity it is me in loue to abide, or not to loue without necessity, for God beforn wote it. This maner of necessity forsoth, seemeth to some men into coaccion, that is to sain, constraining, or els prohibicion that is defending, wherfore necessity is me to loue of will. I vnderstand me to be constrained, by some priuy strength, to ye will of louing, and if no loue to be defended from the will of loving, and so through necessity me seemeth to loue, for I loue, or els not to loue, if I not loue, wherethrough neither thanke ne maugre, in tho things may I deserue.
Now (qd. she) thou shalt well vnderstand that often we sain thing, through necessity, to be that by no strength, to be neither is coacted, ne constrained, and thorow necessity not to be, that with no defending is removed, for we sain, it is thorow necessity, GOD to be immortal nought dedlich, and it is necessity, GOD to be rightful, but not that any strength of violent manner constraineth him to be immortal, or defendeth him to be vnrightful, for nothing may make him dedly or vnrightful. Right so if I say, through necessity is thee to be a louer or els none, only thorow will, as GOD beforn wete: it is not to vnderstand, that any thing defendeth or forbit thee thy will, which shall not be, or els constraineth it to be, which shall be: that same thing forsooth God before wot, which he beforne seeth, any thing commend of onely will, that will neither is constrained ne defended through any other thinge. And so through liberty of arbitrement it is do, that is done of will. And truly my good child, if these things be well vnderstand, I wene that none inconuenient shalt thou find, between Goddes forweting, and liberty of arbitrement, wherefore, I wote well they may stand togider. Also farthermore, who that vnderstanding of Prescience, properlich considereth, through the same wise, that any thing be afore wist, is said for to be comming, it is pronounced, there is nothing toforne wist, but thing comming, fore wetting is but of trouth, doubt may not be wist: wherefore, when I sey, that God toforn wot any thing, through necessity is thilke thing to be comming, all is one if I sey, if it shall be, but this necessity neither constraineth, ne defendeth any thing to be, or not to be. Therefore soothly if loue is put to be, it is said of necessity to be, or els for it is put not to be, it is affirmed not to be of necessity: not for that necessity constraineth or defendeth, loue to be, or not to be. For when I say, if loue shal be of necessity, it shall be, here followeth necessity. The thing toforn put, it is as much to say, as if it were thus pronounced: yt thing shall be: none other thing signifieth this necessity, but onely thus, that shall be, may not togider be, and not be. Euenlich also it is sooth, loue was, and is, and shall be, not of necessity, and need is to haue be all that was, and needfull is to be all that is, and coming to all that shall be: and it is not y• same to say, loue to be passed, and loue passed to be passed, or loue present to be present, and loue to be present; or els loue to be comming, and loue comming to be comming: * diuersity in setting of words, maketh diuersity in vnderstanding, altho in the same sentence they accorden of signification, right as it is not all one: loue sweet to be sweet, and loue to be sweet: for much loue is bitter, and sorrowfull ere hearts been eased, and yet it gladdeth thilke sorrowfull hert on soch loue to think. Forsooth (qd. I) otherwhile I haue had mokell blisse in hert of loue, that stoundmele hath me sorily annoied: and certes lady for I see my self thus knit, with this Margarite pearl, as by bond of your seruice, and of no liberty of will, my heart will now not accord this seruice to loue: I can deemin in my self none otherwise, but through necessity am I constrained in this seruice to abide. But alas then, if I through needfull compulsion, maugre me be withhold, little thank for all my great trauail haue I then deserued. Now (qd. this lady) I say as I said: Me liketh this matter to declare at the full, and why: For many men haue had diuers fantasies and reasons, both on one side thereof, & in the other. Of which right soon I trow, if thou wilt vnderstand, thou shalt con yeue the sentence, to the party more probable by reason, and in sooth knowing, by that I haue of this matter maked an end. Certes (qd. I) of these things, long haue I had great lust to be learned, for yet I wene, Gods will and his prescience accordeth with my seruice, in louing of this precious Margarite pearl. After whom euer in my heart, with thursting desire wete I doe bren, vnwasting I langour and fade, and the day of my desteny, in death or in joy I vnbide, but yet in the end I am comforted be my supposail in blisse, and in joy to determine [Page 526] after my desires. That thing (qd. Loue) hastely to thee neigh, God grant of his grace and mercy, and this shall be my prayer, till thou be likened in heart at thine own will. But now to enform thee in this matter (qd. this Lady) thou wost where I left, that was loue to be sweet, and loue sweet to be sweet, is not all one for to say: For a tree is not alway by necessity white, sometime ere it were white it might haue be not white: & after time it is white, it may be not white: but a white tree euermore needful is to be white: for neither toforn ne after it was white, might it be togider white & not white. Also loue by necessity is not present, as now in thee, for ere it were present, it might haue be, that it should now not haue be, & yet it may be, y• it shall not be present: but thy loue present, which to her Margarite thee hath bound, needfull is to be present. Truly some doing of action, not by necessity, is comming far toforn it be, it may be that it shall not be coming: thing forsooth coming, needful is to be coming, for it may not be that comming shall not be comming. And right as I haue said of present and of future times, the same sentence in soothnesse is of the preterit, that is to say, time passed, for thing passed, must needs be passed, and ere it were it might haue not be, wherfore it should not haue passed. Right so when loue coming is said of loue that is to come, needful is to be that is said, for thing coming neuer, is not coming, and so oft the same thing, we sain of the same, as when we sain euery man is a man, or euery louer is a louer, so must it be needs, in no way may he be man, and no man togither. And if it be not by necessity, that is to say, needfull all thing coming to be coming, then some thing coming is not coming, and that is impossible, right as these terms needfull, necessity and necessary, betoken and signifying needs to be, and it may not otherwise be. Right these terms impossible signifieth, that thing is not, & by no way may it be then throgh pert necessity, al thing coming is coming, but that is by necessity, followeth with nothing to be constrained. Lo when that coming is said of thing, not alway thing through necessity is, altho it be coming. For if I say to morrow, loue is coming in this Margarites heart, not therfore through necessity shall thilk loue be, yet it may be yt it shall not be, altho it were coming. Neuer the later, sometime it is sooth, that some thing be of necessity, that is said to come: and if I say to morrow by coming the rising of y• Sun. If therefore with necessity I pronounce coming of thing to come, in this maner loue to morn coming in thine Margarite, to thee ward by necessity is comming, or els the risinge of the Sunne to morne comming through necessity, is comming. Loue soothly, which may not be of necessity alone following, through necessity coming it is made certain. For future of future is said, that is to saine, coming of coming is said: as if to morrow coming, is through necessity coming it is. Arising of the Sun through two necessities in coming, it is to vnderstand, that one is to forgoing necessity, which maketh thing to be, therefore it shall be, for needful is that it be. Another is following necessity, which nothing constraineth to be, and so by necessity it is to come, why: for it is to come.
Now then, when we saine, that God beforne wote thing coming needfull, is to be coming, yet therefore make we not in certain, euermore thing to be through necessity comming. Soothly thing comming may not be, not coming by no way, for it is the same sentence of vnderstanding: as if we say thus, If God beforn wote any thing, needfull is that to be coming. But yet therefore followeth not the prescience of God, thing through necessity to be comming: for altho God toforn wote all things coming, yet not therefore he beforn wote euery thing coming thorow necessity. Some things he beforne wote, coming of free will, out of reasonable creature. Certes (qd. I) these terms, need and necessity, haue a queint manner of vnderstanding, they woulden dullen many mens wits. Therefore (qd. she) I woll hem openly declare, and more clearly than I haue toforne, ere I depart hence. Here of this matter (qd. she) thou shalt vnderstand, that right as it is not needful God to wiln y• he will, no more in many things is not needful a man to wiln that he woll. And euer right as needful is to be, what that God woll, right so to be it is needful, that man woll in tho things which that God hath put into mans subjection of willing: as if a man woll loue, that he loue: and if he ne woll loue, that he loue not: & of such other things in mans disposition. For why: now then, that God woll, may not be, when he woll the will of man thorow no necessity to be constrained, or els defended for to wiln, and he woll the effect to follow the will, then is it needful will of man to be free, & also to be y• he woll. In this maner it is sooth, that thorow necessity is mans werke in louing, that he woll do, altho he woll it not with necessity. (Qd. I then) how stant it in loue of thilk will, sithen men louen willing of free choise in heart. Wherefore if it be thorow necessity, I pray you Lady of an answer this question to assoil. I woll (qd. she) answer thee bliuely: right as men will not thorow necessity, right so is not loue of will thorow necessity, ne thorow necessity wrought thilk same will, for if he would it not with good will, it should not haue been wrought, altho y• he doth it is needful to be done. But if a man do sin, it is nothing els but to will, yt he should not: right so sin of will is not to be manner necssary done, no more than will is necessary. Neuer y• later, this is sooth, if a man woll sin, it is necessary him to sin, but though thilk necessity, nothing is constrained ne defended in the will, right so thilk thing that free will [Page 527] woll and may, and not may, not wiln, & needfull is that to wilne he may not wilne, but thilke to wilne needfull is, for impossible to him it is one thing, and the same to wiln, he may not wiln, but thilk to wiln needful is: for impossible to him it is one thing and the same to wiln, and not to wiln.
The werke forsooth of will, to whom it is yeue, that it be that he hath in will, and that he woll not, voluntary of spontany it is, for by spontany will it is do, that is to say, with good will, not constrained: then by will not constrained, it is constrained to be, and that is it may not together be. If this necessity maketh liberty of will, which that aforn they weren, they might haue been eschued and shunned: God then, which that knoweth all truth, and nothing but truth, all these things, as they arn spontany, or necessary sight, and as he seeth, so they ben: and so with these things well considered, it is open at the full, that without all manner repugnance, God beforn wote all manner things ben done by free will, which aforn they weren, might haue been neuer they should be, and yet been they thorow a manner necessity, from free will discendeth.
Hereby may (qd. she) lightly ben know, that not all things to be is of necessity, though God haue hem in his prescience, for some things to be, is of liberty of will: and to make thee to haue full knowing of Gods beforne weting, hear me (qd. she) what I shall say. Blithly lady (qd. I) me list this matter entirely to vnderstand. Thou shalt (qd. she) vnderstand, yt in heauen is Gods being, although he be ouer all by power, yet there is abiding of diuine person, in which heauen is euerlasting presence, withouten any mouable time there, fool haue I not said toforn this, as time hurteth, right so ayenward, time healeth and rewardeth: * and a tree oft failed, is hold more in deinty, when it fruit forth bringeth.
A Marchaunt that for ones lesing in the Sea, no more to auenture thinketh, he shall neuer with auenture come to richess: so oft must men on the Oke smite, till the happy dent haue entred, which with the Okes own sway maketh it to come all at ones. So oft falleth the lethy water on the hard rock, till it haue through pierced it. The euen draught of the Wier drawer maketh the wier to ben euen, & supple werching, and if he stinted in his draught, the wier breaketh asunder. Euery tree well springeth, when it is wel grounded, and not often remoued. What shall this fruit be (qd. I) now it ginneth ripe? Grace (qd. she) in parfite joy to endure, and therewith thou begon. Grace (qd. I) me thinketh, I should haue a reward for my long trauail? I shall tell thee (qd. she) retribution of thy good wils, to haue of thy Margarite pearl, it beareth not the name of mede, but only of good grace, and that cometh not of thy desert, but of thy Margarites goodness and vertue alone. (Quod I) should all my long trauail haue no reward, but through grace, & sometime your seluen said, rightwiseness euenlich rewardeth to quite one benefit for another. That is sooth (qd. Loue) euer as I said, as to him that doth good, which to done, he were neither holden, ne yet constrained. That is sooth (qd. I.) Truly (qd. she) all that euer thou dost, thine Margarite pearl, of will, of loue, and of reason, thou owest to done it, yet is it nothing els but yeelding of thy debt, in quiting of thy grace, which she thee lent, when ye first met. I wene (qd. I) right little grace to me she deliuered. Certes it was hard grace, it hath nigh me astrangled. That it was good grace, I wote well thou wilt it graunt, ere thou depart hence. If any man yeue to another wight, to whom that he ought not, & which that of himself nothing may haue, a garment or a coat, tho he wear the coat, or els thilk clothing, it is not to put to him that was naked, the cause of his clothing, but only to him that was yeuer of the garment. Wherfore I say, thou y• were naked of loue, and of thy self none haue mightst, it is not to put to thine own person, sithen thy loue came through thy Margarite pearle, Ergo she was yeuer of the loue, although thou it vse, and there sent she thee grace, thy seruice to begin. She is worthy the thank of this grace, for she was the yeuer.
All the thoughts, busie doings, and pleasaunce in thy might, and in thy words, that thou canst deuise, been but right little, in quiting of thy debt: had she not been, such thing had not been studied. So all these matters kindly drawn homeward to this Margarite pearl, for from thence were they borrowed, all is holly hers, to wit, the loue that thou hauest, and thus quitest thou thy debt, in that thou stedfastly seruest. And keep well that loue, I thee rede, that of her thou hast borrowed, and vse it in her seruice, thy debt to quite, and then art thou able right soon to haue grace, wherefore after mede, in none halue maist thou look.
Thus thy ginning and ending is but grace alone, and in thy good deseruing, thy debt thou acquitest: without grace is nothing worth, whatsoeuer thou werch. Thank thy Margarite of her great grace, that hitherto thee hath guided, and pray her of continuance forth in thy werks hereafter, and that for no mishap thy grace ouerthwartly tourn. Grace, glory, and joy, is comming through good folks deserts, and by getting of grace, therein shullen end. And what is more glory, or more joy than wisedom, and loue in parfite charity, which God hath graunted to all tho that well can deserue. And with that, this Lady all at ones start into mine heart: here woll I onbide (qd. she) for euer, and neuer woll I gone hence, and I woll keep thee from medling, while me list here onbide: thine entremeting manners into stedfastnesse shullen be chaunged.
[Page 528] SOberliche tho threwe I vp mine eyen, and hugely tho was I astonied of this suddain aduenture, and faine would I haue learned howe vertues shoulden been known, in which thinges I hope to God hereafter she shall me enformen, and namely sithen her resting place is now so nigh at my will: and anone all these thinges that this lady said, I remembred me by my self, and reuolued the liues of mine vnderstanding wits.
Tho found I fully all these matters perfitely there written, how misse rule by fained loue both realms and citties hath gouerned a great throw. How lightly me might the faults espy, how rules in loue should been vsed, how sometime with fained loue foul I was beguiled, how I should loue haue know, and how I shall in loue with my seruice proceed.
Also furthermore, I found of perdurable letters, wonderly there grauen, these matters, which I shall nempne. Certes, none age, ne other thing in yearth, may the least sillable of this is no point deface, but clerely as the sun in mine vnderstanding soul they shinen. This may neuer out of my mind, how I may not my loue keep, but through willing in heart: wiln to loue may I not, but I louing haue. Loue haue I none, but through grace of this Margarite perl. It is no manner doubt, that will woll not loue, but for it is louing, as will woll not rightfully, but for it is rightfull it selue. Also will is not louing, for he woll loue, but he woll loue, for he is louing: it is all one to will to be louing, and louings in possession to haue. Right so will woll not loue, for of loue hath he no party, and yet I deny not louing, will wiln more loue to haue, which that he hath not, when he would more than he hath, but I say he may no loue wiln, if he no loue haue, through which thilk loue he shuld wiln: but to haue this louing will, may no man of himself, but onely through grace toforn going: right so may no man it keep, but by grace following. Consider now euery man aright, and let sen if that any wight of himself mowe this louing well get, and he thereof first nothing haue: for if it should of himself spring, either it must be willing or not willing. Willing by himself may he it not haue, sithen him faileth y• matter that should it forth bring, the matter him faileth: why? He may thereof haue no knowing, till when grace put it in his heart. Thus willing by himself, may he it not haue, and not willing may he it not haue. Parde euery conceit of euery reasonable creature, otherwise will not grant: will in affirmatife with not willing by no way mow accord. And although this louing woll come in mine hert by freenesse of arbitrement, as in this book fully is shewed, yet owe I not therfore as much allow my free will, as grace of that Margarite, to me leaned, for neither might I without grace toforn going, and afterward following, thilk grace get ne keep, & lese shall I it neuer, but if free will it make, as in willing otherwise than grace hath me granted. For right as when any person taketh, willing to be sober, and throweth that away, willing to be dronk, or els taketh will of drinking out of measure: which thing anone, as it is done, maketh through his own guilt by free will, y• leseth his grace. In which thing therefore, vpon the nobley of grace I mote trusten, and my busie cure set thilke grace to keep, that my free will otherwise than by reason it should werch, cause not my grace to void: for thus must I both look to free will and to grace. For right as naturel vsage in engendering of children may not ben without father, ne also but with the mother, for neither father ne mother in begetting may it lack: right so grace and free will accorden, and without hem both maye not louing, will in no party been getten. But yet is not free will, in getting of that thing, so mokell thank worthy as is grace, ne in the keeping therof so much thank deserueth, and yet in getting and keeping both done they accord. Truly oftentime grace, free will helpeth in fordoing of contrary things, y• to willing loue not accorden, and strength will aduersities to withsit, wherfore all together to grace oweth to been accepted, that my willing deserueth: Free will to louing in this wise is accorded. I remember me well, how all this booke (who so heed taketh) considereth all things, to werchings of mankind euenly accordeth, as in tourning of this word loue into trouth, or els rightwisenesse, whether y• it like. For what thing that falleth to man, in helping of free arbitrement, thilk rightwisenesse to take, or els to keep, through which a man shall be saued, of which thing all this booke mention hath maked, in euery point thereof, grace oweth to be thanked.
Wherefore I say, euery wight hauing this rightwisenesse, rightfull is, and yet therefore I feel not in my conscience, that to all rightful is behoten y• blisse euerlasting, but to hem that been rightful, withouten any vnrightfulnesse. Some man after some degree may rightfully ben accompted, as chast men in living, and yet been they janglers, and full of enuy pressed: to hem shall this blisse neuer ben deliuered. For right as very blisse is without all maner need, right so to no man shall it be yeuen, but to the rightful, void from all maner vnrightfulnesse found, so no man to her blisse shall been followed, but he be rightful, and with vnrightfulnesse not bound, and in that degree fully be know. This rightfulnesse in as much as in himself is, of none euil it is cause, and of all manner goodnesse truly it is mother. This helpeth the spirit to withsit the leude lusts of fleshly liking: this strengtheth and mainteineth ye law of kind, and if that otherwhile me weneth harm of this precious thing to follow, ther through is nothing the cause, of somewhat els commeth it about, who so taketh heed. By rightfulnesse forsooth [Page 529] werne many holye Saintes, good sauour in sweetnesse to God almighty, but that to some folks they weren sauour of death, into deadly end, that come not of the saints rightwisenesse, but of other wicked mens badnesse hath proceeded. Truly thilke will, which that the Lady of Loue me learned, affection of will to nempne, which is in willing of profitable things, euill is not, but when to fleshly lusts it consenteth, ayenst reason of soule: but that this thing more clearely be vnderstand, it is for to know whence and how thilke will is so vicious and so readye euill deeds to performe.
Grace at the ginning ordained thilke will in goodnesse, euer to haue endured, and neuer to badnesse haue assented: men should not beleeue, that God thilk will maked to be vicious. Our first father, as Adam and Eue, for vicious appetites, and vicious will to such appetites consenting, been not one thing in kind, other thing is done for the other. And how this will first into man first assented, I hold it profitable to shew: but if the first condition of reasonable creature woll be considered and apertly looked, lightly the cause of such will may been shewed. Intention of God was, that rightfully and blessed should reasonable nature ben maked, himself for to keep, but neither blisfull ne rightfull might it not be, withouten will in them both. Will of rightfulnesse is thilk same rightfulnesse, as heretoforn is shewed: but will of blisse is not thilk blisse, for euery manne hath not thilke bliss, in whom the will thereof is abiding. In this bliss, after euery vnderstanding, is suffisaunce of couenable commodities, without any manner need, whether it be bliss of Angels, or els thilk, that grace first in Paradice suffered Adam to haue. For although Angels bliss be more than Adams was in Paradice, yet may it not be denied, that Adam in Paradice ne had suffisaunce of bliss: for right as great heart is without all manner of coldness, and yet may another hearte more heat haue, right so nothing defended Adam in Paradice to been blissed, without all manner need.
Although Angels bliss be much more, forsooth it followeth not, lass than another to haue therefore him needeth, but for to want a thing, which that behoueth to been had, that may need been cleaped, and that was not in Adam, at the first ginning: God and the Margarite weten what I mean. Forsooth where as is need, there is wretchedness: God without cause toforn going, made not reasonable creature wretched, for him to vnderstand and loue, had he first maked. God made therefore man blissed, without all manner indigence, togither and at ones tooke reasonable creatures bliss, and of will of blissedness, and will of rightfulness, which is rightfulness it selue, and liberty of arbitrement, that is free will, with which thilke rightfulness may he keep and lese. So and in that wise ordained thilke two, that will, which that instrument is cleaped, as heretoforn mention is maked, should vse thilk rightfulnesse, by teaching of his soul to good manner of gouernaunce, in thought and in words, and that it should vse the blisse in obedient manner, withouten any incommodity. Blisse forsooth into mans profit, and rightwisenesse into his worship, God deliuered at ones: but rightfulnes so was yeven, that man might it lese, which if he not lost had not, but continuelly haue it kept, he should haue deserued the aduancement into the fellowship of Angels, in which thing, if he that lost, neuer by himself forward should he it mow ayenward recouer: and as well the blisse that he was in, as Angels blisse, that to himwards was comming, should be nome at ones, and he depriued of them both. And thus fill man vnto likenesse of vnreasonable beasts, and with hem to corruption and vnlusts appetites was he vnder throwen, but yet will of blisse dwelleth, that by indigence of good, which that he lost through great wretchednes, by right should he ben punished. And thus for he weiued rightfulnes, lost hath he his blisse: but fail of his desire in his own commodity may he not, and were commodities to his reasonable nature, which he hath lost may he not haue. To false lusts, which been bestial appetites, he is tourned: folly of vnconning hath him beguiled, in wening that thilk been the commodities that owen to ben desired. This affection of will by liberty of arbitrement, is enduced to wiln thus thing that he should not, and so is will not maked evil, but vnrightful, by absence of rightfulnes, which thing by reason euer should he haue. And freenes of arbitrement may he not wiln, when he it not haueth, for while he it had, thilke help it not to keepe: so that without grace may it not ben recouered. Will of commodity, in as much as vnrightfull it is maked, by willing of euil lusts, willing of goodnesse may he not wiln, for will of instrument to affection of will, is thralled, sithen that other thing may not it wiln, for will of instrument to affection desireth, and yet been both they will cleaped: for that instrument woll, through affection it wilneth, and affection desireth thilk thing, whereto instrument him leadeth. And so free will to vnlusty affection full seruant is maked, for vnrightfulnes may he not releeue, and without rightfulnes full freedom may it neuer haue. For kindly liberty of arbitrement without it, vein and idle is forsooth. Wherefore yet I say, as often haue I said y• same, * When instrument of will lost hath rightfulnes, in no manner but by grace may he ayen retourn rightfulnesse to wiln. For sithen nothing but rightfulnesse alone should he wiln, what y• euer he wilneth without rightfulnesse, vnrightfully he it wilneth. These then vnrightful appetites and vnthrifty lusts which the flies desireth, in as mokel as they ben in kind, ben they not bad, but they ben [...]nrightf [...]l and bad, for they ben in reasonable [Page 530] creature, where as they being in no way should been suffred. In vnreasonable beasts neither ben they euil, ne vnrightfull, for there is their kind being.
KNowne may it well ben now, of these thinges toforne declared, that man hath not alway thilke rightfulnesse, which by duty of right euermore hauen he should, and by no waye by himselfe may he it get ne keepe, and after he it hath, if he it lese, recouer shall he it neuer, without especiall grace: wherefore the commune sentence of the people in opinion, that euery thing after destiny is ruled, false & wicked is to beleue: For tho predestination be as well of good as of bad, sithen that it is said God hadnest made, which he neuer ne wrought, but for he suffereth hem to be maked, as that he hardeth when he nought missayeth, or led into temptation, when he not deliuereth, wherfore it is none inconuenient, if in that maner be said, God toforn haue destenied both bad, and her bad werks, when hem ne their euil deeds neither amendeth, ne thereto hem grace leveth. But speciallich predestination of goodnesse, alone is said by these great clerks, for in him God doth that they been, and that is goodnesse they werchen. But the negatife hereof in badnesse is holden, as y• lady of loue hath me learned, who so aright in this book looketh. And vtterly it is to weren, that predestination properly in God may not been demed, no more than befornweting. For in the chapitre of Gods befornweting, as loue me rehearsed, all these matters apertly may been founden. * All things to God ben now togither and in presence during. Truly presence and predestination in nothing disaccorden, wherefore as I was learned, how Gods before weting and free choice of will mowe stonden together, me thinketh the same reason me leadeth, that destiny and free will accorden, so that neither of hem both to other in nothing contrarieth. And reasonablich may it not been deemed, as often as any thing falleth free will werching, as if a man another man wrongfully annoyeth, wherefore he him sleeth, that it be constrained to that end, as mokel folk crieth and saith: Lo, as it was destenied of God toforn know, so it is thorow necessity fall, and otherwise might it not betide. Truely neither he that the wrong wrought, ne he that himself venged, none of thilk things through necessity wrought: for if that with free will there had it not willed, neither had wrought that he perfourmed: and so vtterly grace that free will in goodnes bringeth and keepet [...] and fro badnes it tourneth, in all thinge most thanke deserueth. This grace maketh sentence in vertue to abide, wherfore in body and in soul of full plenty of conning, after their good deseruing in the euerlasting joy, after y• day of dome shull they endlesse dwell, & they shull ben learned, that in kingdom with so mokell affect of loue and of grace, y• the least joy shall of the greatest in glory rejoyce & been gladded, as if he the same joy had. What wonder sith God is the greatest loue, and thee ne ought to look things with reasoning to proue, and so is instrument of will, will: and yet varieth he from effect and vsing both. Affection of will also for will is cleaped, but it varieth from instrument in this manner wise, by that name, lich when it commeth into mind, anon right it is in willing desired, & the negatife thereof with willing may not accord: this is closed in hert, though vsage & instrument slepe. This sleepeth, when instrument and vs waken: and of such manner affection truly, some man hath more, and some man lesse. Certes, trew louers wenen euer thereof too little to haue. False louers in little wenen haue right mokel. Lo instrument of will in false & true both euenlich is proportioned, but affection is more in some place than in some, because of goodnesse that followeth, and that I think hereafter to declare. Vse of this instrument is will, but it taketh his name, when wilned thing is in doing. But vtterly grace to catch in thy blisse, desired to been rewarded. Thou must haue then affection of will at y• full, and vse when his time asketh, wisely to been governed. Soothly my disciple, without feruent affection of wil may no man been saued: this affection of good seruice in good loue, may not been grounded, without feruent desire to the thing in will coueited. But he that neuer retcheth to haue, or not to haue, affection of will in that hath no resting place. Why? for when thing cometh to mind, and it be not taken in heed to commin or not come, therfore in that place affection faileth: & for thilk affection is so little, thorow which in goodnes he should come to his grace, the littlenes wil it not suffer to a [...]ail by no way into his helps: Certes grace & reason thilk affection followeth. This affection with reason knit, dureth in euerich true heart, and euermore is encreasing, no feardnesse, no strength may it remoue, while truth in heart abideth. Soothly when falshede ginneth entre, truth draweth away grace and joy both, but then thilk falshed that truth hath thus voided, hath vnknit the bond of vnder standing reason, between will & the hert. And who so that bond vndoth, & vnknitteth will to be in other purpose than to the first accord, knitteth him with contrary of reason, and that is vnreason. Lo then, will and vnreason bringeth a man from the blisse of grace, which thing of pure kind, euery man ought to shun and to eschew, and to the knot of will and reason confirm. Me thinketh (qd. she) by thy studient looks, thou wenest in these words me to contrarien from other sayings heretoforn in other place, as when thou were sometime in affection of will, to things that now han brought thee in disease, which I haue thee counsailed to void, & thine hert discouer, and there I made thy wil to ben changed, which now thou wenest I argue to withhold [Page 531] & to keepe. Shortly I say, that reuers in these words may not ben found: for though dronkennes be forboden, men shul not alway ben drinkelesse. I trow right for thou thy will out of reason should not tourn, thy will in one reason should not vnbind, I say thy will in thy first purpose with unreason was closed: Construe forth of the remnaunt what thee good liketh. Truly that will and reason should bee knit together, was free will of reason, after time thine hearte is assentaunt to them both, thou might not chaunge, but if thou from rule of reason vary, in whych variaunce to come to thilke blisse desired, contrariously thou werchest: and nothing may know will and reason but loue alone. Then if thou void loue, then weuest the bond that knitteth, and so needs or els right lightly, that other gonne a sondry, wherefore thou seest apertly, yt loue holdeth this knot, & amaistreth hem to be bound. These things, as a ring, in circuit of wreth ben knit in thy soule without departing. Ah let be, let be (qd. I) it needeth not of this no rehersail to make, my soul is yet in parfit blyss, in thinking of yt knot.
NOw truly lady, I haue my ground well vnderstonde, but what thing is thilke spire yt into a tree shuld wexe: Expoune me yt thyng, what ye thereof mean. That shall I (qd. she) blithly, & take good heed to ye words I thee rede. Continuaunce in thy good service, by long processe of time in full hope abiding, without any change to wilne in thine heart: this is ye spire, whych if it be well kept and gouerned, shal so hugely spring, till the fruit of grace is plenteously out sprongen: For although thy will be good, yet may not therfore thilk blisse desired, hastely on thee discenden, it must abide his sesonable time. And so by processe of growing, with thy good travail, it shall into more and more wex, till it be found so mighty, that winds of euil speech, ne scornes of enuy make nat the trauail ouerthrow, ne frosts of mistrust, ne hailes of jelousie right little might haue in harming of such springs. Euery yong setling lightly with smal storms is apeired, but when it is woxen somdele in greatnesse, then han great blastes and weathers but little might, any disauantage to hem for to werch. Mine owne soueraigne lady (qd. I) & welth of mine hert, & it were liking vnto your noble grace, therethrough nat to be displeased, I suppose ye erren, now ye maken jelousie envy, & distourbour to hem yt ben your seruaunts. I haue learned oft toforn this time, yt in euery louers hert great plenty of jelousies greeues ben sow, wherefore me thinketh ye ne ought in no manner accompt thilk thing among these other welked winers & venomous serpents, as enuy, mistrust, & euil speech. O fool (qd. she) mistrust with foly, with euil wil medled, engendreth ye welked padde. Truly if they were destroyed, jelousie vndone were for euer, & yet some manner of jelousie I wot well is euer redy in all the hearts of my trew seruaunts, as thus: to be jealous ouer himself, least he be cause of his own disease. This jealousie in full thought euer should be kept for ferdnesse to lese his loue by miskeping thorow his own doing in leudnes, or els thus: Least she that thou seruest so feruently, is beset there her better liketh, yt of all thy good seruice she counteth nat a cresse. These jealousies in heart for acceptable qualities ben deemed: these oughten euery true louer by kindly euermore hauen in his mind, till fully yt grace and blisse of my seruice be on him discended at will. And he yt then jelousie catcheth, or els by wening of his own foolish wilfulness mistrusteth, truly with fantasie of venime he is foule beguiled. Euil wil hath grounded thilk matter of sorrow in his leud soul, & yet nat for then to euery wight shuld me not trust, ne euery wight should me not trust, ne euery wightfully misbeleeue ye mean of these things owen to be vsed. * Soothly, withouten causeful euidence, mistrust in jealousie should not be wened in no wise person commonly, such leud wickednes should me nat find. * He yt is wise, & with euil will nat be acomered, can abide wel his time, til grace & bliss of his seruice following haue him so mokel eased, as his abiding tofore hand hath him diseased. Certes lady (qd. I tho) of nothing me wondreth, sithen thilk bliss so precious is & kindly good & well is, and worthy in kind, when it is medled with loue & reason, as ye toforn haue declared. Why, anon as hie one is sprong, why springeth not ye tother? & anone as ye one commeth, why receiueth not ye other? For euery thing yt is out of his kindly place, by full appetite, euer commeth thiderward kindly to draw, & his kindly being thereto him constraineth. And ye kindly stede of this bliss, is in such will medled to vnbide, & needs in yt it should haue his kindely being. Wherfore me thinketh anon as yt wil to be shewed, & kind him profereth, thilk bliss shuld him hie thilk will to receiue, or els kind of goodnes worchen not in hem as they shuld. Lo, be the sun neuer so ferre, euer it hath his kind werching in earth: great weight on hye on loft caried, stinteth neuer till it come to this resting place. Waters to ye seaward euer ben they drawing: thing yt is light, blithely will not sink, but euer ascendeth, and upward draweth. Thus kind in euery thing his kindly course & his being place sheweth: Wherfore be kind on this good will, anone as it were sprong, this blisse should thereon discend, her kind would they dwelleden togider, & so haue ye said your self. Certes (qd. she) thine heart sitteth wonder sore this bliss for to haue, thine heart is sore agreeued yt it tarrieth so long, and if thou durstest, as me thinketh by thine words, this blisse wouldest thou blame. But yet I say, thilke blisse is kindly good, and his kindly place in ye will to vnbide. Neuer ye later, there comming togider after kinds ordinaunce nat sodainly may betide, it must abide time, as kind yeueth him leue, for if a man, as [Page 532] this will medled gon him shew, and thilke blisse in hast folowed, so lightly coming should lightly cause going, long time of thrusting causeth drink to be the more delicious when it is atasted. How is it (qd. I then) that so many blisses see I all day at mine eye, in the first moment of a sight with such will accord. Yea, and yet other while with will assenteth, singularly by himself there reason faileth, trauail was none, seruice had no time. This is a queint manner thing, how such doing commeth about. O (qd. she) that is thus, the earth kindely after seasons and times of the year, bringeth forth innumerable herbs and trees both profitable and other, but such as men might leaue tho they were nought in nourishing to mans kind seruen, or els such as tournen soone vnto mens confusion, in ease that thereof they atast, commen foorth out of the earth by their own kind, withouten any mans cure or any businesse in traueil: & thilk herbs y• to mens liuelode necessarily seruen without, which goodly in this life creatures mowen not enduren, & most ben nourishen to mankind, without great trauail, great tilth, and long abiding time, commen not out of the earth, and it with seed toforn ordained such herbs to make spring & forth grow. Right so the parfit blisse, y• we haue in meaning of during time to abide, may nat come so lightly, but with great traueile and right busie tilth, and yet good seed to be sow, for oft the crop faileth of bad seed, be it neuer so well traueiled. And thilk blisse thou spoke of so lightly in comming, truly is nat necessary ne abiding: and but it the better be stamped, and the venomous jeuse out wrongen, it is likely to enpoysonen all tho that thereof tasten. Certes, right bitter been the herbs that shewen first the year of her own kind. Well the more is the haruest, that yeeldest many grains, tho long and sore it hath been trauailed. What woldest thou demen, if a man wold yeue three quarters of nobles of gold, that were a precious gift? Ye certes (qd. I.) And what (qd. she) three quarters full of pearls? Certes (qd. I) that were a rich gift. And what (qd. she) of as mokell azure? (Qd. I) a precious gift at full. Were not (qd. she) a noble gift of all these at ones? In good faith (qd. I) for wanting of English, naming of so noble a word, I cannot for preciousnesse yeue it a name: Rightfully (qd. she) hast thou deemed, & yet loue knit in vertue, passeth al y• gold in this earth. Good will accordant to reason, with no manner property may be counteruailed, all the azure in the world is not to account in respect of reason, loue that with good wil and reason accordeth, with none earthly riches may not ben amended. This yeft hast thou yeuen I know it my self, and thy Margarite thilke gift hath receiued, in which thing to reward she hath her self bound. But thy gift, as I said, by no maner riches may be amended, wherefore with thing that may nat be amended, thou shalt of thy Margarites rightwisenesse be rewarded. Right suffred yet neuer, but euery good deed sometime to be yold. All would thy Margarite with no reward thee quite. Right that neuer more dieth, thy mede in merite woll puruey. Certes, such suddain blisse as thou first nempnest, right will hem reward, as the well is worthy, and tho at thine eye it seemeth the reward the desert to passe, right can after send such bitternesse euenly it to reward: so the suddain blisse by always of reson in great goodnesse may not be accompted, but blisse long, both long it abideth, and endlesse it woll last. See why thy wil is endles, for if thou lovedst euer, thy will is euer there tabide, and neuer more to change: euen head of reward must ben done by right: then must needs thy grace and this blisse endlesse in joy to vnbide. Euenlich disease asketh euenlich joy, which hastly thou shalt haue. A (qd. I) it sufficeth not then alone good will, be it neuer so well with reason medled, but if it be in good seruice long trauailed. And so through seruice should men come to the joy, and this me thinketh should be the wexing tree, of which ye first meued.
VEry trouth (qd. she) hast thou now conceiued of these things in thine heart, hastely shalt thou bee able verye joye and parfite blisse to receiue. And now I wote well thou desirest to knowe the manner of braunches, that out of the tree should spring. Thereof lady (qd. I) heartely I you pray: For then leue I woll, that right soone after I shall ataste of the fruite that I so longe haue desired. Thou haste hearde (qd. she) in wt wise this tree toforn this haue I declared, as in ground & in stock of wexing. First ye ground should be thy free will full in thine heart, and the stock (as I said) should be continuance in good seruice, by long time in trauail, till it were in greatnesse right well woxen. And when this tree such greatnesse hath caught, as I haue rehersed, y• branches then yt ye fruit should foorth bring, speech must they be needs in voice of prayer, in complaining wise vsed. Out alas (qd. I tha) he is sorrowfully wounded, that hideth his speech, and spareth his complaints to make, what shall I speke that care: but pain euen like to hell, sore hath me assailed, and so ferforth in pain me throng, that I leue my tree is ser, & neuer shall it fruit forth bring.* Certes, he is greatly eased, that dare his preuy mone discouer to a true fellow, that conning hath and might, wherethrough his pleint in any thing may be amended. And mokel more is he joied, y• with heart of hardines dare complain to his lady, what cares that he suffreth, by hope of mercy with grace to be auanced. Truly I say for me, sith I came this Margarite to serue, durst I neuer me discouer of no manner disease, & well the later hath mine heart hardied such things to done, for the great bounties & worthy refreshments that she of her grace goodly, without any desert on my halue oft hath me rekened, and nere her goodnesse the more with [Page 533] grace and with mercy medled, which passen all deserts, trauels, & seruings, that I in any degree might endite, I would wene I should be without recouer in getting of this blisse for euer. Thus haue I stilled my disease, thus haue I couered my care, y• I bren in sorrowfull annoy, as gledes and coals wasten a fire vnder dead ashen. Well the hoter is the fire, that with ashen is ouerlein: right long this wo haue I suffred. Lo (qd. Loue) how thou farest: me thinketh the palsie euil hath acomered thy wits, as fast as thou highest forward, anon suddainly backward thou mouest. Shal nat yet all thy leaudnesse out of thy brains? Dull ben thy skilful vnderstandings, thy wil hath thy wit so amaistred. Wost thou not well (qd. she) but euery tree in his seasonable time of bourioning, shew his blomes fro within, in sign of wt fruit should out of him spring, els ye fruit for yt year men halt deliuered, be ye ground neuer so good. And tho the stock be mighty at ye full, & the branches seer, & no burions shew, & Farewel the gardiner, he may pipe with an yuy leaf, his fruit is failed. Wherfore thy branches must burionen in presence of thy lady, if thou desire any fruit of thy ladies grace, but beware of thy life, that thou no wo delay vse, as in asking of things y• stretchen into shame, for then might thou not speed by no way y• I can espy. * Vertue woll not suffer villanye out of himselfe to spring. Thy words may not be queint, ne of subtel manner vnderstanding. Freel witted people supposen in such poesies to be beguiled, in open vnderstanding must euery word be vsed. * Voice wthout clere vnderstanding of sentence, saith Aristotle, right nought printeth in hert. Thy words then to abide in hert, & cleane in full sentence of true mening, platly must thou shew, & euer be obedient her hests & her wils to perform, & be thou set in such a wit to wete by a look euermore wt she meaneth. And he y• list nat to speak, but stilly his disease suffer, wt wonder is it tho he neuer come to his blisse? * Who y• trauaileth vnwist, and coueiteth thing vnknow, vnweting he shall be quited, and with vnknow thing rewarded. Good lady (qd. I then) it hath oft be seen, that weathers and storms so hugely haue fall in burioning time, & by pert duresse han beaten off the springs so clean, wherethrough y• fruit of thilk year hath failed. It is a great grace when burions han good wethers, their fruits foorth to bring. Alas then after such storms how hard is it to auoid, till eft wedring and years han maked her circuit cours all about, ere any fruit be able to be tasted, he is shent for shame, y• foul is rebuked of his speech. He that is in fire brenning, sore smarteth for disease, Him thinketh full long er y• water come y• should y• fire quench. * While men gon after a leche, the body is buried. Lo how seemly this fruit wexeth, me thinketh y• of tho fruits may no man atast, for pure bitternesse in favor. In this wise both fruit & y• tree wasten away togider, tho mokell busie occupation haue be spent to bring it so fer forth y• it was able to spring. A litle speech hath maked, that all this labour is in idle. I not (qd. she) wherof it serueth thy question to assoil, me thinketh thee now duller in wits, than when I with thee first met, although a man be leaud, commonly for a fool he is not demed, but if he no good woll learn: sots and fools let lightly out of mind the good that men teacheth hem. I said therfore thy stock must be strong, and in greatnes well herted, the tree is full feble, that at the first dent faileth: and although fruit faileth one yere or two, yet shall such a season come one time or other, that shall bring out fruit that is nothing preterit, ne passed there is nothing future ne coming, but all things togider in yt place been present euerlasting without any meuing, wherefore to God all thing is as now: and though a thing be nat in kindly nature of things as yet, and if it should be hereafter, yet euermore we shull say God it maketh be time present, & now for no future ne preterit in him may be found. Wherefore his weting & his before weting, is all one in vnderstanding. Then if weting & before weting of God putteth in necessity to all things which he wote or before wote ne thing after eternity, or els after any time he woll or doth of liberty, but all of necessity, which thing if thou wene it be ayenst reason, nat thorow necessity, to be or nat to be, all thing y• God wote or before wote, to be or nat to be, & yet nothing defendeth any thing to be wist, or to be before wist of him in our wils or our doings to be done, or els coming to be for free arbitrement. When thou hast these declarations well vnderstand, then shalt thou find it reasonable at proue, & yt many things be nat thorow necessity, but thorow liberty of will, saue necessity of free will, as I tofore said: & as me thinketh all vtterly declared. Me thinketh lady (qd. I) so I should you nat displease, & euermore your reuerence to keep, yt these things contrarien in any vnderstanding, for ye sain sometime is thorow liberty of will, & also thorow necessity: of this haue I yet no sauour, without better declaration. What wonder (qd. she) is there in these things, sithen all day thou shalt see at thine eye, in many things receiuen in hemself reuers, thorow diuers reasons, as thus. I pray thee qd. she) which things ben more reuers than commen & gone: For if I bid thee come to me, & thou come, after when I bid thee go, and thou go, thou reuersest fro thy first coming. That is soth (qd. I:) And yet (qd. she) in thy first alone by diuers reason was full reuersing to vnderstand. As how (qd. I) That shall I shew thee (qd. she) by ensample of things yt haue kindly mouing. Is there any thing yt meueth more kindly than doth y• heuens eie, which I clepe the Sun. Soothly (qd. I) me semeth it most kindly to moue. Thou saist soth (qd. she.) Then if thou look to the Sun, in what part he be vnder heauen, euermore be heigheth him in mouing fro thilk place, and heigheth meuing [Page 534] toward thilk same place, to thilk place from which he goth, he heigheth comming, & without any ceasing to y• place he heigheth, from which he is chaunged and withdraw. But now in these things, after diuersity of reason, reuers in one thing may be sey without repugnaunce. Wherfore in ye same wise, without any repugnaunce by my reasons tofore maked, all is one to beleeue, somethyng to be thorow necessity comming, for it is comming, & yet with no necessity constrayned to be comming, but with necessity y• commeth out of free will, as I haue said. Tho list me a little to speak, & gan stint my pen of my writing, & said in this wise. Truly lady, as me thinketh, I can alleadge authorities great y• contrarien your sayings. Iob sayeth of mans person, Thou hast put his tearm, which thou might nat passe. Then say I ye no man may short ne length y• day, ordayned of his doyng, altho somtime to vs it semeth some man to do a thyng of free will, wherethrough his death he henteth. Nay forsooth (qd. she) it is nothing ayenst my saying, for God is nat beguiled, ne he seeth nothing wheder it shal come of liberty or els of necessity, yet it is said to be ordained at God immouable, which at man, or it be done, may be chaunged. Such thing also is, y• Poul ye Apostle sayeth of hem y• toforne werne purposed to be Saints, as thus, whych that God before wist, & hath predestined, conformes of images of his son that he should been y• first begeten, y• is to say, here amongs many brethren, & whom he hath predestined, him he hath cleaped, & whom he hath cleaped, hem he hath justified, & whom he hath justified, hem he hath magnified. This purpose, after which they been cleped Saints, or holy in y• euerlasting present, where is neither time passed, ne time commyng, but euer it is onely present, and now as mokell a moment, as seuen thousand Winter, & so ayenward, withouten any meuing, is nothing liche temporel presence, for thing y• there is euer present. Yet emongs you men, ere it be in your presence, it is moouable through liberty of arbitrement. And right as in y• euerlasting present, no manner thyng was, ne shal be, but only is, and now here in your temporell tyme somethyng was, & is, & shall be, but mouing stounds, & in this is no maner repugnaunce. Right so in the euerlasting presence, nothing may be chaunged: and in your temporell time, otherwhile it is prooued mouable by liberty of will, or it be do, withouten any inconuenience thereof to follow. In your temporell time is no such presence, as in y• other, for your present is done, when passed & to come ginnen entre, which times here amongs you, euerich easily followeth other, but y• present euerlasting dureth in one head, withouten any imaginable changing, and euer is present & now. Truly the course of y• planets, and ouerwhelmings of y• Sun in dayes and nights, with a new ginning of his circuit after it is ended, yt is to sayn, one yere to follow another. These maken your transitory times, with chaunging of liues, & mutation of people. But right as your temporell presence coueiteth euery place, & all things in euery of your times be contained, & as now both sey & wist to Gods very knowing. Then (qd. I) me wondreth why Poule spake these words, by voice of signification in time passed, that God his saints before wist, hath predestined, hath cleaped, hath justified, & hath magnified: me thinketh he should haue said tho words in time present, & that had been more accordaunt to ye euerlasting present, than to haue spoke in preterit voice of passed vnderstanding. O (qd. Loue) by these words I see well thou hast little vnderstanding of y• euerlasting presence, or els of my before spoken words, for neuer a thing of tho thou hast nempned, was tofore other, or after other, but all at ons euenlich, at ye God ben, & all togider in the euerlasting present, be now to vnderstanding, the eternal presence, as I said, hath inclose togider in one, all times, in whyche close & one all things, y• been in diuers times, & in diuers places temporell, without posteriority or priority, been closed therein perpetuell now, and maked to dwell in present sight. But there thou saiest yt Poule should haue spoke thilke foresaid sentence be time present, and y• most shuld haue ben accordant to ye euerlasting presence, why gabbest thee to thy words? Soothly I say Poule mooued y• words, by signification of time passed, to shew fully y• thilke words were not put for temporell signification, for all thilk time were not thilke Saints temporallich borne, which that Poule pronounced, GOD haue tofore know, and haue cleaped them magnified, wherthrough it may well be know, y• Poul vsed tho words of passed signification, for need & lack of a word in mans bodily speech, betokening the euerlasting presence. And therefore word is most semelich in likenes to euerlasting presence, he took his sentence for things, yt here beforne ben passed, vtterly be immouable, ilike to y• euerlasting presence. As thilke that been, there neuer mowe not been present, so things of time passed, ne mowe in no wise not been passed: but all things in you temporall, presence y• passen in a little while, shullen been not present. So then in that it is more similitude to the euerlasting presence, signification of time passed, than of time temporall present, and so more in accordaunce. In this maner what thing of these that ben doen through free arbitrement, or els as necessary, holy writ pronounceth, after eternity he speaketh, in which presence is euerlasting sooth, & nothyng but soth immouable, that after time, in whych naught alway been your wils & your acts, & right as while they be not, it is not needful hem to be: so oft it is not needful, y• somtime they should be. As how (qd. I) for yet must I be lerned by some ensample. Of loue (qd. she) woll I now ensample make, sithen I know the head knot in y• yelke. Lo, somtime thou [Page 535] writest no art, ne art then in no will to write, and right as while thou writest not, or els wolt not write, it is not needful thee to write, or els wilne to write.
And for to make thee know vtterly, that things been otherwise in the euerlasting presence, than in temporal time: see now my good child, for something is in the euerlasting presence, than in temporall time, it was not in eternite time, in eterne presence shal it not be. Then no reason defendeth, y• something ne may be in time temporel mouing, that in etern is immouable. Forsoth it is no more contrary ne reuers, for to be mouable in time temporell, & mouable in eternity, than not to be in any time, & to be alway in eternity, and haue to be, or els to come in time temporell, and not haue be, ne nought comming to be in eternity. Yet neuer the latter, I say not same thyng to be neuer in tyme temporell, y• euer is eternity, but all onely in some time not to be. For I say not thy loue to morne in no time to be, but to day alone I deny ne it to be, and yet neuer the later, it is alway in eternity.
Also (qd. I) it seemeth to me, y• commyng thyng, or els passed, here in your temporall time to be, in eternity euer now, and present oweth not to be demed, & yet followeth not thilke thyng, that was, or els shall be, in no manner thereto been passed, or els comming: then vtterly shull we deny, for there without reasing, it is in his present manner. O (qd. she) mine own disciple, now ginnest thou able to haue the name of my seruaunt, Thy wit is clered, away is now errour of cloud in vnconning, away is blindnesse of loue, away is thoughtfull study of medling manners, hastly shalt thou entre into the joy of me, that am thine own maistres.
Thou hast (qd. she) in a few words well and clerely concluded mokell of my matter. And right as there is no reuers, ne contrariousty in tho things, right so withouten any repugnance it is said some thing to be mouable in time temporell, and for it be, that in eternity dwelleth immouable, not afore it be, or after y• it is, but without cessing, for right naught is there after time, y• same is there euerlasting, y• temporallich sometime nis, & toforne it be, it may not be, as I haue said. Now sothly (qd. I) this haue I well vnderstand, so y• now me thinketh, that prescience of God, and free arbitrement, withouten any repugnaunce accorden, and that maketh the strength of eternity, which encloseth by presence, during all times, and all things that been, han been, and shull been in any time.
I would now (qd. I) a little vnderstand, sithen y• all thing thus beforne wote, whether thilke weting bee of tho things, or els thilke things to been of Gods weting, & so of God nothing is: and if euery thing be through Gods weting, and therof take his being, then should GOD be maker and authour of bad werks, and so he should not rightfully punish euill doings of mankind. (Qd. Loue) I shall tell thee this lesson to learne, mine own true seruaunt, the noble Phylosophical Poete, in English, which euermore him busieth and trauaileth right sore, my name to encrease, wherfore all that willen me good, owe to doe hym worship and reuerence both, truely his better ne his pere, in schoole of my rules coud I neuer find: He (qd. she) in a treatise that he made of my seruant Troylus, hath this matter touched, & at the full this question assoiled. Certainly his noble sayings can I not amend: in goodnesse of gentle manliche speech, wythout any manner of nicety of flarieres imagination, in wit & in good reason of sentence, he passeth all other makers. In the book of Troylus, the answer to thy question mayst thou learne, neuer y• later, yet may lightly thyne vnderstanding somedele been learned, if thou haue knowyng of these toforne said thynges, with that thou haue vnderstandyng, of two the last chapiters of this second book, that is to say, good to be some thing, & bad to want all manner being, for bad is nothyng els, but absence of good, and y• God in good maketh that good deeds been good, in euill he maketh that they ben but naught, y• they been bad: for to nothyng is badnesse to be. I haue (qd. I tho) ynough knowing therein, me needeth of other things to hear, that is to say, how I shal come to my blisse so long desired.
IN this matter toforne declared (qd. Loue) I haue well shewed, that euery man hath free arbitrement of thynges in his power to do or undo what him liketh. Out of this ground must come the Spire, that by processe of time shall in greatnesse sprede to haue braunches and blossomes, of waxing fruit in grace, of whych the taste and the sauour is endlesse blisse in joy euer to onbide.
Now Lady (qd. I) that tree to sette, faine would I learn. So thou shalt (qd. she) ere thou depart hence. The first thyng, thou must set thy werke on ground siker and good, accordaunt to thy springs. For if thou desire grapes, thou goest not to the Hasell, ne for to tetchen Roses, thou sekest not on Okes: and if thou shalt haue Honey soukles, thou leauest the fruit of y• soure Dock. Wherfore if thou desire this blyss in parfite joy, thou must set thy purpose there vertue followeth, & not to look after the bodily goods, as I sayed when thou were writyng in thy second book. And for thou hast set thy self in so noble a place, & vtterly lowed in thyne heart the misgoyng of thy first purpose, this setteles is y• easier to spryng, & the more lighter thy soul in grace to be lissed. And truely, thy desire, that is to say, thy will, algates mote ben stedfast in this matter, without any chaungyng, for if it be stedfast, no man may it void. Yes parde (qd. I) my will may been tourned by friends, and disease of manace, and threatening in lesing of my life, and of my limmes, and in many [Page 536] other wise, that now commeth not to mynd. * And also it mote oft been out of thought: For no remembraunce may hold one thyng continuelly in heart, be it neuer so lusty desired. Now see (qd. she) thou thy will shall follow, thy free will to be grounded, continuelly to abide: It is thy free will y• thou louest & hast loued, & yet shalt louen this Margarite pearle, and in thy will thou thinkest to hold it. Then is thy will knitte in loue, not to chaunge for no new lust beside: This wyll teacheth thine hert from all manner varying. But then, although thou be threatened in death, or els in other wise, yet is it in thyne arbitrement to chuse, thy loue to voyd, or els to hold: & thilk arbitrement is in a maner a judgement, between desire and thy heart. And if thou deeme to loue, thy good will fayleth, then art thou worthy no blisse, that good will should deserue: & if thou chuse continuance in thy good seruice, then thy good will abideth, needs blisse following of thy good wil, must come by strength of thilke judgement: for thy first will, that taught thyne heart to abide, and halt it from the eschange, with thy reason is accorded. Truly this maner of will thus shall abide, impossible it were to tourne, if thy heart be true, and if euery man dilligently the meanyngs of his will consider, he shall well vnderstande, that good will knitte with reason, but in a false heart neuer is voided: for power & might of keepyng this good will, is through liberty of arbitrement in heart, but good will to keep may nat fayle. Eke then if it fail, it sheweth it selfe, that good will in keeping is not there. And thus false will, that putteth out the good, anone constraineth the heart to accord in louing of thy good will, & this accordaunce between false will and thyne heart, in falsity been likened togither. Yet a little woll I say thee in good wil, thy good wils to raise & strength. Take heed to me (qd. she) how thy willes thou shalt vnderstand. Right as ye han in your body diuers members, and fiue sundry wittes, euerich apart to his owne doing, which things as instruments ye vsen, as your hands apart to handle, feet to go, tongue to speak, eye to see: right so the soule hath in hym certayne steryngs and strengths, whyche he vseth as instruments to his certain doyngs. Reason is in the soule, whych he vseth thynges to know and to proue, and will, whych he vseth to wilne: And yet is neyther will ne reason all the soule, but eueryche of hem is a thyng by himself in the soul. And right as euerich hath thus singular instruments by hemselfe, they han as well diuers aptes, and diuers manner vsings, and thilke aptes mowen in will been cleaped affections. Affection is an instrument of willing in his appetites. Wherfore mokell folke saine, if a reasonable creatures soul any thing feruently wilneth, affectuously he wilneth, and thus may will by tearm of equiuocas, in three wayes been vnderstand: one is instrument of wylling, another is affection of this instrument, and the third is vse, that setteth it a werke. Instrument of willyng is the ilke strength of the soul, which thee constraineth to wilne, right as reason is instrument of reasons, which ye vsen when ye looken. Affection of this instrument is a thyng, by which ye be draw desirously any thyng to wilne in coueitous manner, all be it for y• time out of your mind: as if it come in your thought thilke thing to remember, anon ye ben willing thilke to done, or els to haue. And thus is instrument will, and affection is will also, to wilne thing as I said? as for to wilne health, when will nothyng thereon thinketh: for anone as it commeth to memory, it is in will, and so is affection to wilne sleepe, when it is out of mynde, but anone as it is remembred, will wilneth sleep, when his time commeth of the doyng. For affection of will neuer accordeth to sickness, ne alway to wake. Right so in a true louers affection of willing instrument, is to wiln truth in his seruice, & this affection alway abideth, although he be sleping, or threatned, or els not thereon thinkyng, but anone as it commeth to mind, anone he is stedfast in y• will to abide. Vse of this instrument forsooth is another thing by himself, & that haue ye not, but when ye be doing, in willed thing by affect or instrument of will, purposed or desired, & this manner of vsage in my seruice, wisely needeth to be ruled, from waiters with enuye closed, from speakers full of jangeling wordes, from proud folke and hautaine that lambes & innocents both scornen & dispisen. Thus in doing varieth the acts of willing euerich from other, & yet ben they cleped will, & the name of will vtterly owen they to have, as instrument of will is will, when ye turn into purpose of any thing to done, be it to sit or to stand, or any such thing els. This instrument may been had, although affect & vsage be left out of doing, right as ye haue sight & reason, and yet alway vse yee greatest wisedome, in hem shall he be, and they in GOD. Now then, when all false folke be ashamed, whych wenen all bestialty & yerthly thing be sweeter and better to the body, than heuenly is to the soul: this is the grace and y• fruit y• I long haue desired, it dooth me good the sauour to smell. Christ now to thee I cry of mercy and of grace, and graunt of thy goodness to euery maner reader, ful vnderstanding in this leud pamphlet to haue, and let no man wene other cause in this werke, than is verily y• sooth: for enuy is euer ready all innocents to shend, wherfore I would y• good speech enuy euermore hinder. But no man wene this werke be sufficiently maked, for Gods werke passeth mans, no mans wit to parfite werke may by no way puruay the end: how should I then, so leaude, aught wene of perfection any end to get? Neuer the later, grace, glory, and laude, I yeelde and put with worshipfull reuerence, to the soothfast God in three, with vnitye closed, which that the heauy langour [Page 537] of my sicknesse hath tourned into myrthe of health to recover: for right as I was sorrowed, through the glotton cloude of manyfolde sickly sorow, so mirth ayen commyng, health hath me gladded & greatly comforted. I beseech and pray therefore, and I crie on Gods great pite, and on his mokell mercye, that this present scourges of my flesh mow make medicine and leech craft of my inner mans health, so that my passed trespas and tenes through weepyng of myne eyes been washe, and I voided from all manner disease, & no more to weep hereafter, I now be kept thorow Gods grace: so that Gods hand, which merciablye mee hath scourged, hereafter in good plite from thence merciably mee keepe and defend. In this booke be many priuye things wimpled and fold, vnneth shul leaud men the plites vnwinde, wherefore I praye to the Holy ghoste, he lene of his oyntmentes mens wittes to cleere: and for Gods loue no man wonder, why or how this question cum to my minde, for my grate lustie desire was of this ladie to been enformed, my lewdnesse to amende. Certes I know not other mens wittes, what I should aske, or in aunswere what I shuld say, I am so leude my self, that mokell more learnyng yet mee behoueth. I haue made therefore as I could, but not sufficiently as I would, & as matter yaue me sentence, for my dull witte is hindred, by stepmother of foryetyng, and with cloude of vnconnyng, that stoppeth the light of my Margarite pearle, wherefore it may not shine on me as it should. I desire not only a good reader, but also I coueite and pray a good booke amender, in correction of words and of sentence: and only this mede I coueit for my trauayle, that euery inseer and hearer of this leud fautasie, deuout horisons and prayers, to God the dread iudge yelden, and praien for me, in that wise that in his dome, my sins mow been released & foryeuen: he that praieth for other, for himselfe trauayleth. Also I pray that euery man parfitely mow knowe, through what intencion of hert this treatise haue I draw. How was it the sightful Manna in desert, to children of Israel was spirituel meate: bodily also it was, for mens bodies it nourished: And yet neuer the later, Christ it signified. Right so a iewell betokeneth a gemine: and that is a stone vertuous or els a pearle. Margarite a woman betokeneth grace, learning, or wisedome of God, or els holy Church. If bread through vertue is made holy flesh, what is that our God saith? * It is the spirite that yeueth life, the flesh of nothyng it profiteth. Flesh is fleshly vnderstanding: Flesh without grace and loue, naught is worth. * The letter sleeth, the spirite yeueth lifelich vnderstanding. Charitie is loue, and loue is charity, God graunt vs all therein to be frended. And thus the Testament of Loue is ended.
The Lamentation of Mary Magdalen.
This Treatise is taken out of S. Origen, wherein Mary Magdalen lamenteth the Cruel Death of her Saviour Christ.
The Prologue to the Remedy of LOVE.
The Remedy of Love.
This Book, drawn for the most part out of the Proverbs of Solomon, is a warning to take heed of the deceitful company of Women.
The Complaint of Mars and Venus.
The Complaint of Mars.
The Complaint of Venus.
¶Lenuoy.
The Letter of Cupid.
This Letter was made by Thomas Occleve of the Office of the privy Seale, Chaucers Scholar; and was by him termed, A Treatise of the Conversation of Men and Women in the little Island of Albion; which got him such hatred among the Gentlewomen of the Court, that he was inforced to recant in that Book of his, called Planctas proprius.
A Ballade in Commendation of our Lady.
John Gower unto the Noble King Henry the Fourth.
¶A Saying of Dan Iohn.
¶Yet of the same.
Balade de bon consail.
Of the Cuckow and the Nightingale.
Chaucer dreameth that he heareth the Cuckow and the Nightingale contend for excellency in singing.
Lenuoye.
Scogan unto the Lords and Gentlemen of the Kings House.
In the written Copies the Title hereof is thus: Here followeth a moral Ballad to the Prince, the Duke of Clarence, the Duke of Bedford, the Duke of Gloucester, the Kings Sons; by Henry Scogan, at a Supper among the Merchants in the Vintry at London, in the House of Lewis John.
Lenvoye.
Good Counsail of Chaucer.
A Ballade of the Village without Painting.
Plaintife to Fortune.
The answer of Fortune.
The answer to Fortune.
Fortune.
The Plaintife.
Thenuoye of Fortune.
Lenuoy.
Th. Occleve to his empty Purse.
Occleve unto the King.
A Ballad of good counsail, translated out of Latin verses into English by Dan John Lidgate, cleped the Monk of Bury.
A Ballad in the Praise and Commendation of Master Geffery Chaucer, for his golden Eloquence.
Here followeth certain Works of Geffrey Chaucer, annexed to the Impressions printed in the Years 1561, and 1602. All collected and adjoyned to his former Works by John Stowe.
A Ballad made by Chaucer, teaching what is gentilness, or whom is worthy to be called gentill.
A Proverb against Covetise and Negligence.
A Ballad which Chaucer made against Women unconstant.
Here followeth a Ballad which Chaucer made in the Praise, or rather Dispraise, of Women, for their Doubleness.
Lenuoye.
This Work following was compiled by Chaucer, and it is called the Craft of Lovers.
A Ballad.
The Ten Commandments of Love.
Faith.
Entencion.
Discrecion.
Pacience.
Secretnesse.
Prudence.
Perseueraunce.
Pity.
Measure.
Mercy.
Lenuoye.
The Nine Ladies worthy.
Queene Sinope.
Lady Ipolite.
Lady Deifile.
Lady Teuca.
Queene Pantasile.
Queene Thamiris.
Lady Lampedo.
Queene Semiramys.
Lady Menalip.
A Ballad.
A Ballad.
Here followeth how Mercury with Pallas, Venus, and Minerva, appeared to Paris of Troy, he sleeping by a Fountain.
Pallas loquitur ad Parisum de Troiae.
Pallas loquitur primo.
Venus loquitur ad Parisum.
Minerva loquitur ad Parisum.
A Ballad pleasant.
Another Ballad.
A Ballad, warning men to beware of deceitful women.
These Verses next following were compiled by Geffrey Chaucer, and in the written Copies follow at the end of the Complaint of Pity.
A Ballad, declaring that Womens chastity Doth much excell all treasure worldly.
The Court of Love.
This Book is an imitation of the Romaunt of the Rose, shewing that all are subject to love, what impediments soever to the contrary: containing also those twenty Statutes which are to be observed in the Court of Love.
Chaucer's DREAM, never Printed before the Year 1597. That which heretofore hath gone under the name of his Dream, is the Book of the Dutchess: or the Death of Blanch, Dutchess of Lancaster.
This Dream, devised by Chaucer, seemeth to be a covert report of the Marriage of John of Gaunt the King's Son, with Blanch the Daughter of Henry Duke of Lancaster, who, after long love, (during the time whereof the Poet feigneth them to be dead) were in the end by consent of Friends happily Married: figured by a Bird bringing in her Bill an Herb which restored them to life again. Here also is shewed Chaucer's match with a certain Gentlewoman, who, although she was a Stranger, was notwithstanding so well liked and loved of the Lady Blanch and her Lord, as Chaucer himself also was, that gladly they concluded a Marriage between them.
The Flower and the Leaf.
A Gentlewoman out of an Arbor in a Grove, seeth a great company of Knights and Ladies in a Dance upon the green Grass: the which being ended, they all kneel down, and do honour to the Daisie, some to the Flower, and some to the Leaf. Afterward this Gentlewoman learneth by one of these Ladies the meaning hereof, which is this: They which honour the Flower, a thing fading with every blast, are such as look after Beauty and worldly Pleasure. But they that honour the Leaf, which abideth with the Root, notwithstanding the Frosts and Winter storms, are they which follow Vertue and during Qualities, without regard of worldly Respects.
Chaucers A. B. C. called La Priere de nostre Dame.
Chaucer's A. B. C. called La Priere de nostre Dame: made, as some say, at the request of Blanch, Dutchess of Lancaster, as a Prayer for her private use, being a Woman in her Religion very devout.
Jack Upland.
In this Treatise is set forth the blind ignorance and variable Discord of the Church [...]men, how rude and unskilful they were in Matters and Principles of our Christian Institution. This is thought to be that Crede which the Pellican speaketh of in the Plowmans Tale, in these Words:
IAck Vpland make my mone to very God, and to all true in Christ, that antichrist and his disciples (by colour of holines) walking and deceiuing Christs Church by many false figures, wherethrough (by antichrist and his) many vertues been transposed to vices.
But the felliest folke that euer Antichrist found, been last brought into the church, and in a wonder wise, for they been of diuerse sects of antichrist, sown of diuerse countries & kindredes. And all men knowne well, that they be not obedient to bishops, ne legemen to kings: neither they tellen, ne sowen, weden, ne reapen wood, corn, ne grasse, neither nothing that man should helpe; but only themselues their liues to sustein. And these men han all manner power of God, as they sein, in heauen and in yearth, to sell heauen and hell to whom that hem liketh, and these wretches weet neuer where to been themselues.
And therefore (freer) if thine order and rules been grounded on Goddis law, tell thou me Iack Vpland, that I aske of thee, and if thou be or thinkest to be on Christes side, keepe thy paciens.
SAnt Paule teacheth, That all our deedes should be do in charitie, & els it is nought worth, but displeasing to God and harme to [Page 617] our own souls. And for that freers challenge to be greatest clerkes of the church, and next following Christ in liuing: men should for charitie aske them some questions, and pray them to ground their answeres in reason and holy writ, for else their answer would nought be woorth, be it flourished neuer so faire, and as me thinke men might skilfully aske thus of a freer.
1 Freer, how many orders be in earth, and which is the perfectest order? Of what order art thou? Who made thine order? What is thy rule? Is there any perfecter rule than Christ himself made? If Christs rule be most perfect, why rulest thou thee not thereafter? Without more, why shall a freer be more punished if he break the rule that his patron made, than if he break the hests that God himself made?
2 Approoueth Christ any more religions than one, That S. Iames speaketh of? If he approueth no more, why hast thou left his rule, and takest another? Why is a freer apostata that leueth his order, and taketh another sect, sith there is but one religion of Christ?
3 Why be ye wedded faster to your habits than a man is to his wife? For a man may leaue his wife for a year or two, as many men done: and if you leaue your habit a quarter of a year, ye should be holden apostataes.
4 Maketh your habit you men of religion or no? If it doe, then euer as it weareth, your religion weareth, and after that your habit is better, your religion is better, and when ye haue liggen it beside, then lig ye your religion beside you, and been apostataes: why buy ye you so precious clothes, sith no man seeketh such, but for vaine glory, as S. Gregorie sayth.
What betokeneth your great hood, your scaplerie, your knotted girdle, and your wide cope?
5 Why use ye all one colour, more than other christian men do? What betokeneth that ye been clothed all in one manner clothing?
If ye say it betokeneth loue and charitie, certes then ye be oft hypocrites, when any of you hateth another, and in that that ye wol be said holy by your clothing.
Why may not a freer weare clothing of another sect of freers, sith holinesse stondeth not in the cloths?
6 Why hold ye silence in one house more than another, sith men ought ouer all to speake the good and leaue the euil?
Why eat you flesh in one house more than in another, if your rule and your order be perfect, and the patron that made it?
7 Why get ye your dispensations to haue it more easie? Certes, either it seemeth that ye be vnperfect, or he that made it, so hard, that ye may not hold it. And siker, if ye hold not the rule of your patrons, ye be not then her freers, and so ye lie vpon your selues.
8 Why make you as dede men, when yee be professed, and yet ye be not dede, but more quicke beggars than you were before? and it seemeth euil a dede man to go about and beg.
9 Why will ye not suffer your nouises hear your councels in your chapter house, ere that they haue ben professed, if your councels been true, and after Gods law?
10 Why make yee you so costly houses to dwell in? sith Christ did not so, and dede men should haue but graues, as falleth it to dede men, and yet ye haue more courts than many lords of England: for ye now wenden through the realme, and ech night will lig in your own courts, and so mow but right few lords doe.
11 Why heire you to ferme your limitors, giuing therefore each yeare a certain rent, and will not suffer one in anothers limitation, right as yee were your selues lords of countries?
Why be ye not vnder your bishops visitations, and seegemen to our king?
Why aske ye no letters of bretherheads of other mens praiers, as ye desire that other men should aske letters of you?
If your letters be good, why grant ye them not generally to all manner of men for the more charitie?
12 Mowe ye make any man more perfect brether for your prayers, than God hath by our beleeue? by our baptisme and his owne grant? if ye mow, certes then ye be aboue God.
Why make ye men beleeue that your golden trentall sung of you, to take therefore ten shillings, or at least fiue shillings, woll bring souls out of hell, or out of purgatorie? if this be sooth, certes ye might bring all souls out of paine, and that woll ye nought, and then ye be out of charitie.
13 Why make ye men beleeue, that he that is buried in your habit, shall neuer come in hell, and ye weet not of your selfe whether ye shall to hell or no? and if this were sooth, ye should sell your high houses to make many habites for to saue many mens soules.
14 Why steal ye mens children for to make hem of your sect, sith that theft is against Gods hests, and sith your sect is not perfect? yee know not whether the rule that ye bind him to, be best for him or worst.
15 Why vnderneme ye not your brethren for their trespasse after the law of the Gospel, sith that vnderneming is the best that may be? but ye put them in prison oft, when they do after Gods law, and by S. Augustines rule: If any doe amisse, and would not amend him, ye should put him from you.
16 Why coueit ye shrift, and burying of other mens parishens, and none other sacrament that falleth to christian folke?
[Page 618] Why busie ye not to heare to shrift of poor folke, as well as of rich lords and ladies, sith they mow haue more plenty of shrift fathers than poor folke mow?
Why say ye not the gospel in houses of bedred men, as ye do in rich mens, that mow goe to church and heare the gospell?
Why couet you not to bury poor folk among you? sith that they been most holy, (as ye saine that ye been for your pouerty?)
17 Why will ye not be at her diriges as ye haue been at rich mens? sith God praiseth hem more than he doth other men.
What is thy prayer worth? sith thou wilt take therefore, for all chapmen yee need to bee most wise for dread of simony.
What cause hast thou, that thou wilt not preach the gospel, as God saith that thou shouldst? sith it is the best lore and also our beleeue.
VVhy be ye euill apaid that secular priestes should preach the gospell? sith God himselfe hath bodden hem.
18 VVhy hate ye the gospell to be preached, sith ye be so much hold therto? for ye win more by yeare with In principio, than with all the rules that euer your patrones made, and in this minstrels been better than ye, for they contrarien not to the mirths that they maken, but ye contrarien the gospell both in word and deed.
19 Freer, when thou receiuest a peny for to say a masse, whether sellest thou Gods body for that peny, or thy prayer, or els thy travell? if thou saist thou wolt not trauell for to say the masse, but for the peny, that certes if this be sooth, then thou louest too little meed for thy soule: and if thou sellest Gods body, other thy prayer, then it is very simony, and art become a chapman worse than Iudas, that sold it for thirty pence.
20 VVhy writest thou hir names in thy tables that yeueth thee mony? sith God knoweth all thing: for it semeth by thy writing, that God would not reward him, but thou writest in thy tables, God would els forgotten it.
VVhy bearest thou God in hand and slanderest him that he begged for his meat? sith he was Lord ouer all, for then had he been vnwise to haue begged, and haue no need thereto.
Freer, after what lawe rulest thou thee? where findest thou in Gods lawe that thou shouldest thus beg?
21 VVhat maner men needeth for to beg?
For whom oweth such men to beg?
VVhy beggest thou so for thy brethren?
If thou saist, for they haue need, then thou dost it for the more perfection, or els for the least, or els for the meane. If it be the most perfection of all, then should all thy brethren do so, and then no man needed to beg but for himself, for so should no man beg but him needed. And if it be the least perfection, why louest thou then other men more than thy selfe? For so thou art not well in charity, sith thou shouldest seek the more perfection after thy power, liuing thy self most after God. And thus leauing that imperfection, thou shouldst not so beg for them. And if it is a good mean thus to beg as thou dost, then should no man do so, but they been in this good mean, and yet such a mean granted to you may neuer be grounded on Gods law, for then both lerid and leaud that been in mean degree of this world, should go about and beg as ye do. And if all should do so, certes well nigh all the world should go about and beg as ye done, and so should there be ten beggers against one yeuer.
VVhy procurest thou men to yeue thee their almes, and saist it is so needful, and thou wilt not thy selfe win thee that meed?
22 VVhy wilt thou not beg for poor bedred men, that been poorer than any of your sect, that liggen and mow not go about to help himselfes, sith we be all brethren in God, and that bretherhed passeth any other that ye or any man could make, and where most need were, there were most perfection, either els ye hold them not your pure brethren, but worse, but then ye be vnperfect in your begging?
VVhy make ye so many maisters among you, sith it is against the teaching of Christ and his Apostles?
23 VVhose been all your rich courts that ye han, and all your rich jewels? sith ye seen that ye han nought ne in proper ne in common. If ye saine they been the Popes, why gather ye then of poore men and lords so much out of the kings hand to make your pope rich? And sith ye sain that it is great perfection to haue nought in proper be in common, why be ye so fast about to make the pope, that is your father, rich, and put on him imperfection? sithen ye saine that your goods been all his, and he should by reason be the most perfect man, it semeth openlich that ye been cursed children so to slander your father, and make him imperfect. And if ye saine that the goods be yours, then do ye ayenst your rule; and if it be not ayenst your rule, then might ye haue both plough and cart, and labour as other good men done, and not so to beg by losengery, and idle as ye done. If ye say that it is more perfection to beg, than to trauell or to worch with your hand, why preach ye not openly, and teach all men to do so? sith it is the best and most perfect life to ye help of their souls, as ye make children to beg ye might haue been rich heirs.
Why make ye not your feasts to poor men, and yeueth hem yefts, as ye done to the rich? sith poor men han more need than the rich?
What betokeneth that ye goe tweine and tweine togither? if ye be out of charity, ye accord not in soule.
Why beg ye and take salaries therto more than other priests? sith he that most taketh, most charge hath.
[Page 619] 24 Why hold ye not S. Francis rule and his testament? sith Francis saith, that God shewed him this liuing and this rule: and certes if it were Gods will, the Pope might not fordo it: or els Francis was a lier, that saied in this wise. And but this testament that he made, accord with Gods will, or els erred: he is a lier that were out of charitie: and as the law saith, he is accursed that letteth the rightful last wil of a dead man. And this testament is the last will of Francis that is a dead man, it seemeth therefore that all his freers been cursed.
25 Why will ye not touch no coined money with the crosse, ne with the kings head, as ye done other jewels both of gold and siluer? certes if ye despise the crosse or the kings head, then ye be worthy to be despised of God and the king: and sith ye will receiue mony in your hearts, and not with your hands, and it seemeth that yee hold more holinesse in your hands than in your hearts, and then be false to God.
26 Why haue ye exempt you from our kings laws, and visiting of our bishops more than other christen men that liuen in this realm, if ye be not guiltie of traitorie to our realme, or trespassers to your bishops? But ye will have the kings laws for the trespasse doe to you, and ye will haue power of other bishops more than other priests, and also haue leaue to prison your brethren as lords in your courts more than other folks han that ben the kings leegemen.
27 Why shall some sect of you freers pay eche a yere a certaine to her generall prouincial or minister, or els to her souereines: but if he steale a certaine number of children (as some men saine) and certes if this ben sooth, then yee be constreined upon certein pain to do theft against Gods commaundement, Non furtum facies.
28 Why be ye so hardie to grant by letters of fraternitie to men and women, that they shall haue part and merite of all your good deeds, and ye weten neuer whether God be apayed with your deeds because of your sin? Also yee witten neuer whether that man or woman be in state to be saved or damned, then shall he haue no merit in heauen for his owne deeds ne for none other mans. And all were it so, that he shold haue part of your good deeds: yet should he haue no more than God would giue him after that he were worthie, and so much shall each man haue of Gods yeft without your limitation. But if ye will say that ye been Gods fellowes, and that he may not doe without your assent, then be ye blasphemers to God.
29 What betokeneth that yee haue ordeined, that when such one as ye haue made your brother or sister, and hath a letter of your seale, that letter mought bee brought in your holy chapter, and there be rad, or els yee will not pray for him. And but ye willen pray especially for all other that were not made your brethren or sistren, then were ye not in right charitie, for that ought to be commen, and namely in ghostly things.
30 Freer, what charity is this, to ouercharge the people by mightie begging, vnder colour of preaching or praying, or masses singing? Sith holy write biddeth not thus, but euen the contrary: for all such ghostly deeds should be done freely, as God yeueth them freely?
31 Freer, what charitie is this, to beguile children or they commen to discretion, and bind hem to your orders, ye ben not grounded in Gods law, against her friends will? Sithen by this follie been many apostataes, both in will and deed, and many beene apostataes in her will during all her life, that would gladly be discharged, if they wist how, and so many ben apostataes, that shoulden in other states haue been true men.
32 Freer, what charitie is this, to make so many freers in euery country to the charge of the people? sith parsons and vicars alone, ye secular priests alone, ye monkes and cannons alone, with bishops aboue them, were ynough to the church to doe ye priests office. And to adde more than ynough, is a foule errour, and great charge to the people, and this openly against Gods will, that ordained all thyngs to be done in weight, number, and measure. And Christ himselfe was apaied with twelve apostles and a few disciples, to preach and doe priests office to all the whole world, then was it better doe than is now at this time by a thousand dele. And right so as foure fingers with a thombe in a mans hand, helpeth a man to worch, and double number of fingers in one hand should let him more, and so the more number that there were passing the measure of Gods ordinaunce, the more were a man letted to worch: right so (as it seemeth) it is of these new orders that ben added to the church, without ground of holy write and Gods ordinance.
33 Freer, what charity is this, to the people to lie, and say that ye follow Christ in pouertie more than other men done? and yet in curious and costly housing, and fine and precious clothing, and delicious and liking feeding, and in treasure and jewels, and rich ornaments, freers passen lords and other rich worldly men, and soonest they should bring her cause about (be it neuer so costly) though Gods law be put aback.
34 Freer, what charitie is this, to gather vp the books of holy write, and put hem in tresorie, and so emprison them from secular priests and curats, and by this cautel let hem to preach the gospel freely to the people without worldly meed, and also to defame good priests of heresie, and lien on hem openly for to let hem to shew Gods law by the holy gospel to the christian people?
[Page 620] 35 Freer, what charity is this, to faine so much holines in your bodily clothing (that ye clepe your habit) that many blind fools desiren to die therein more than in another? and also that a freer that leueth his habit late founden of men, may not be assoiled till he take againe, but is apostata as ye saine, and cursed of God and man both? The freer beleeueth truth, and patience, chastity, meeknesse and sobriety, yet for the more part of his life he may soon be assoiled of his prior, and if he bring home to his house much good by the yeare (bee it neuer so falsely begged and pilled of the poore and needy people in countries about) he shall behold a noble freer, O Lord whether this be charity?
36 Freer, what charity is this, to prease vpon a rich man, and to intice him to bee buried among you from his parish church, and to such rich men giue letters of fraternity confirmed by your generall seale, and therby to bear him in hand that he shal haue part of all your masses, mattens, preachings, fastings, wakings, and all other good deeds done by your brethren of your order (both whilest he liueth, and after that he is dead) and yet he witten neuer whether your deeds be acceptable to God, ne whether that man that hath that letter be able by good liuing to receiue any part of your deeds, and yet a poore man (that ye wite well or supposen in certen to haue no good of) ye ne giuen to such letters, though he be a better man to God than such a rich man: neuerthelesse, this poore man doth not retch therof. For as men supposen, such letters and many other that freers behoten to men, be full false deceits of freers, out of all reason, and Gods law and Christian mens faith.
37 Freer, what charity is this, to be confessors of lords and ladies, and to other mighty men, and not amend hem in her living? but rather as it seemeth, to be the bolder to pill hir poore tenants and to liue in lechery, and there to dwell in your office of confessor for winning of worldly goods, and to be hold great by colour of such ghostly offices? this seemeth rather pride of freeres, than charity of God.
38 Freer, what charity is this, to sain that who so liueth after your order, liueth most perfectly, and next followeth the state of Apostles in pouerty and penance, and yet the wisest and greatest clerks of you wend or send, or procure to the court of Rome to be made cardinals or bishops of the popes chaplens, and to be assoiled of the vow of pouerty and obedience to your ministers, in the which (as ye sain) standeth most perfection and merit of your orders, and thus ye faren as Pharisees that sain one and do an other to the contrary.
Why name ye more the patron of your order in your Confiteor when ye begin masse, than other Saints, Apostles, or Martyrs, that holy church hold more glorious than hem, and clepe hem your patrons and your auowries?
Freer, whether was S. Francis in making of his rule that he set thine order in, a foole and a liar, or else wise and true? If ye sain that he was not a foole, but wise: ne a liar, but true: why shew you contrary by your doing, when by your suggestion to the Pope ye said, that your rule that Francis made was so hard, that ye mow not liue to hold it without declaration and dispensation of the pope, and so by your deed? Ne let your patron a foole that made a rule so hard that no man may well keepe, and eke your deed prooueth him a liar, where he saith in his rule, that he tooke and learned it of the Holy Ghost. For how might ye for shame pray the pope vndo that the holy Ghost bit, as when ye prayed him to dispense with the hardnesse of your order?
Freer, which of the foure orders of friers is best to a man that knoweth not which is the best, but would faine enter into the best, and none other? If thou saiest that thine is the best, then saiest thou that none of the other is as good as thine, and in this ech freer in the three other orders wooll say that thou liest, for in the self-same maner ech other freer wooll say that his order is best. And thus to ech of the foure orders bin the other three contrary in this point: in the which if any say sooth, that is one alone, for there may but one be the best of foure. So followeth it, that if ech of these orders answered to this question as thou doest, three were false, and but one true, and yet no man should wite who that were. And thus it seemeth, that the most part of freers bin or should be liars in this point, and they should answere thereto. If you say that another order of the freers is better than thine, or as good; why tooke ye not rather thereto as to the better, when thou mightst haue chose at the beginning? And eke why shouldst thou be an apostata to leaue thine order and take thee to that is better, and so why goest thou not from thine order into that?
Freer, is there any perfecter rule of religion than Christ Godds sonne gaue in his gospel to his brethren? Or than that religion that S. Iames in his epistle maketh mention of? If you say yes, then puttest thou on Christ (that is the wisedome of God the father) vnkunning, vnpower, or euill will: for then he could not make his rule so good as an other did his. And so he had be vnkunning, that he might not so make his rule so good as an other man might, and so were he vnmighty, and not God, as he would not make his rule so perfect as an other did his, and so he had bin euill willed, namely to himselfe.
[Page 621] For if he might and could, and would haue made a rule perfect without default, and did not, he was not Gods sonne almighty. For if any other rule be perfecter, than Christes, then must Christes rule lacke of that perfection by as much as the other weren more perfecter, and so were default, and Christ had failed in making of his rule: but to put any default or failing in God, is blasphemie. If thou say that Christes rule, and that religion which S. Iames maketh mention of, is perfectest; why holdest thou not thilke rule without more? And why clepest thou the rather of S. Francis or S. Dominiks rule or religion or order, than of Christes rule or Christes order?
Freer, canst thou any default or assigne in Christes rule of the gospell (with the which he taught all men likerly to be saued) if they kept it to her ending? If thou say it was too hard, then saiest thou Christ lied; for he said of his rule: My yoke is soft, and my burden light. If thou say Christes rule was too light, that may be assigned for no default, for the better it may be kept. If thou saist that there is no default in Christes rule of the Gospell, sith Christ himself saith it is light and easie: what need was it to patrons of freers to adde more thereto? and so to make an harder religion to saue freers, than was the religion of Christes apostles and his disciples helden and were saued by. But if they woulden that her freers saten aboue the apostles in heauen for the harder religion that they keepen here, so would they sitten in heauen aboue Christ himselfe, for their more and strict obseruations, then so should they be better than Christ himself with mischance.
Go now foorth and fraine your clerks, and ground ye you in Gods law, and gif Iacke an answer, and when ye han assoiled me that I haue said sadly in truth, I shall soile thee of thine orders, and saue thee to heauen.
If freers kun not or mow not excuse hem of these questions asked of hem, it seemeth that they be horrible gilty against God, and hir euen christian; for which gilts and defaults it were worthy that the order that they call their order were fordone. And it is woonder that men susteine hem or suffer hir liue in such maner. For holy write biddeth that thou do well to the meeke, and giue not to the wicked, but forbed to giue hem bread, least they be made thereby mightier through you.
Chaucer's Words unto his own Scrivener.
THE Story of THEBES, Compiled by John Lidgate, Monk of Bury.
The Prologue to the Story of THEBES.
Here beginneth the History of the Destruction of the City of THEBES.
What the goodlihead of a Prince availeth, to win the hearts of his People.
Example good of King Amphion.
How, after the opinion of some Authours, King Cadmus built first the city of Thebes.
How the Country of Boece took first its name of a Bulls skin, and after called Thebes. And how King Cadmus was exiled out of Thebes, by Prowess of King Amphion.
How the Line of Amphion by descent was conveyed to King Laius.
Here beginneth the Story of King Laius, and Iocasta his Wife.
How the Astronomiens and Philosophers of Thebes calcled out the fate of Edippus.
The cursed Constellation and Disposition of the Heaven at the Nativity of Edippus.
How the fate of Edippus disposed, that he should slea his own Father.
How the hunts of King Polibon found the child in the forrest, and presented him unto the King.
The request of Edippus unto the King Polibon.
The Answer of the King unto Edippus.
How Edippus slough his Father by ignorance, at the Castle of Pilotes.
How Edippus passed by the hill where the Monster lay, that was called Sphinx.
The destruction of the foul Monster.
The words of the foul Monster.
The Probleme that Sphinx put to Edippus.
How Edippus expounded the Probleme that Sphinx put to him.
The Names of the People, being at the Wedding of the King Edippus, and of Jocasta the Queen.
Tragediae Senecae de Egypto Reg. Thebax.
How every Man ought of Duty, to do Reverence to his Father and Mother, or else there will fall Vengeance.
Immediate sequitur secunda pars ejusdem.
How the Sons of Edippus, debated for the Crown.
The controversie of the two Brethren.
The common Union between these two Brethren.
How Polimite first came into the Lond of Arge.
Argiue and Deiphile, the doughters tweine of King Adrastus.
The Dream of King Adrastus of a wild Boar and a fers Lion.
How Tideus and Polimite striuen for her Lodging.
How Adrastus spake to the Knights in secret touching the marriage of his Daughters.
Commendation of Trouth.
How Trouth is preferred in the Book of Esdre aforne Kings, Women, and Wine.
Trouth and Mercy preserven a King from all Adversity.
Chaunge nor doubleness should not be in a King.
The Counsell of false Flatterers.
How the year was come out that Ethiocles reigned in Thebes.
How Tideus took upon him to do the message of Polimite his Brother.
The sorrow of Deiphile, when Tideus went toward Thebes the City.
How wisely and how knightly Tideus did his message.
The request that Tideus made in the name of Polimite, under the title of Convention.
The Answer of King Ethiocles.
The knightly Answer that Tideus yaue ayeine to the King.
How manly Tideus departed from the King.
How falsely Ethiocles laid an Ambushment in the way to have slain Tideus in his repair.
How worthy Tideus outrayed fifty Knights, lying in await for to slaen him.
How Truth with little Multitude hath ever in the fine, Victory of Falshood.
How Tideus all to wounded, came into Ligurgus lond.
How Ligurgus Doughter found Tideus sleeping in the Herber, all forwounded.
How womanly the Lady acquit her to Tideus in his Disease.
How Tideus was refreshed in the Castle of the Lady.
How Tideus repeired is home to Arge.
How Ethiocles sore was astonied, when he heard the death of his Knights.
Finitur Pars secunda, sequitur Pars tertia.
The great purveyaunce of King Adrastus toward the City of Thebes.
The Kings and Princes that come to Adrastus.
That it availeth a King to pay his People truely her fond.
How love availeth more to a King, than Gold or Riches.
How Ethiocles made him strong ayenst the coming of the Greeks.
How the Bishop Amphiorax was sent for to come unto the Greeks.
The Prophecy of Amphiorax the Bishop.
How the Wife of Amphiorax, of conscience to save her Oath, discured her Husband.
How Age and Youth been of diverse Opinions.
How that Wisdom without Supportation availeth little or nought.
The great Mischief that the Greeks had for default of Water.
How Tideus complained to the Lady in the Herber for Water.
How the Lady courteously taught Tideus to the Well.
How the Child was slain of a foul Serpent in the Herber.
How Adrastus and all the states of Grekes preiden Ligurgus for the life of Isophile.
The sorow that King Ligurgus made for the death of his Child, and the lamentation of the Queen.
How the Queen will algate have the Serpent dead.
How Parthonolope slew the Serpent.
Nota, de Ligurgo Rege Traceae.
Baccus, Deus Vini.
Nota, de duodecim arboribus in libra Bochacii de genealogia Deorum.
The Forrey that the Greeks made in the Countrey about Thebes.
The variaunce in Thebes among hemselfe.
The words of the worthy Queen Jocasta unto Ethiocles.
The Treaty that Ethiocles sent unto his Brother.
The knightly Answer of worthy Tideus.
Of a tame Tygre dwelling in Thebes.
How the Bishop Amphiorax fell down into Hell.
How the Greeks chosen a new Divinour in steed of Amphiorax.
How pitiously this worthy Tideus was slain with a quarrel.
How each of the Theban Brethren slough other, even tofore the Citee.
How all the royal blood both of Grekes side, and on the City side, islain were upon o day.
How Creon the old tyrant ychosen was to be King of Thebes.
How all the Ladies of Graece arrayed hem toward Thebes.
How the old cursed Creon will not suffer the bodies neither to be brent nor buried.
How the final destruction of Thebes is compendiously rehearsed in the Knights tale.
How that Duke Theseus delivered to the Ladies the Bodies of their Lords.
How King Adrastus, with the Ladies, repaired home ayen to Arge.
Four hundred year tofore the foundation of Rome was the City of Thebes destroyed.
How all the worthy Blood of Greece destroyed was at siege, and the City brought to nought, to final loss of both parties.
Bellona goddesse is of battaile.
How that War first began in Heaven, by the high Pride and Surquedy of Lucifer.
Surget gens contra gentem. Luc. xxi.
The Old and Obscure Words in Chaucer explained,
whereof either by Nature or Derivation,
- Some are Arabick, Noted with a.
- Some Greek, Noted with g.
- Some Latine, Noted with l.
- Some Italian, Noted with i.
- Some French, Noted with f.
- Some Dutch, Noted with d.
- Some Dialects within this our Country of Britain are many of them derived from the Saxon Tongue, Noted with b.
The rest are explained by way of Analogy.
Annotations also upon several Words and Places.
- ABandon, f. liberty.
- abandon, f. give over.
- abandoning, f. rejectment.
- abawed, b. daunted, abashed.
- abet, b. setting on.
- abedge, b. abye.
- abying, b. state.
- abit, b. abideth, dwelleth.
- abidst, b. suffred.
- abode, received.
- abode, b. tarrying.
- abrayde, b. arose, recovered.
- abrayde, b. brake off, up-start.
- abreding, upbraiding.
- ablusions, l. cleansings.
- abyme, l. from below.
- acale, d. cold.
- accesse, b. ague.
- accidie, l. wanhope.
- accoy, f. asswage.
- acoyed, f. pampered, made quiet.
- achecked, b. stayed.
- acheked, b. choked.
- ackele, b. cool.
- acloyeth, b. overchargeth.
- acroke, b. awry.
- acquite, f. match, to dispatch.
- adassed, b. abashed.
- adawed, b. awaked.
- adiacent, l. adjoyning.
- aduertence, l. audience: also mind, or thought.
- aduert, l. mark.
- adventaile, f. coat of Armour.
- afare, f. a noise, a business.
- afyne, f. fined.
- affi, f. have trust.
- affray, b. feare, stirre, assault.
- affrey, f. sturdinesse, also feare.
- agasteth, b. skarreth.
- agiler, f. a marker of men.
- agilted, b. offended.
- agilt, b. committed, offended.
- agre, to please, to content.
- agredge, f. aggravate, to gather together.
- agrise, b. afraid.
- agrisen, b. afeard.
- agrise, b. faint, terrifie, greeve.
- agriseth, b. beginneth to quake.
- agramed, d. greeved.
- agrose, b. was greeved, daunted.
- agroted, d. cloyed, made big, swelled.
- agrutched, abridged.
- aiust, b. remove.
- alayes, b. wayes; also temperance.
- * Alnath. Alnath is a fixed Star in the horns of. Aries, from whence the first mansion of the Moon taketh his name, and is called Alnath.
- alledgement, i. ease.
- alledged, i. diminished.
- Alderan, a. a Star in the Neck of the Lion.
- algate, b. notwithstanding, ever, forsooth, even now, altogether.
- alcali, a. Nightshade, salt wort.
- * Algezer, Algezira, a City in Spain, near the streights of Gibralter.
- als, d. also: as well.
- alestake, d. Maypole.
- Almagist, a. a work of Astronomie, written by Ptolomie.
- alembic, a. a stillitorie.
- alures, f. walkes, alleyes.
- algomisa, a. (Canis minor) the less dog starre.
- alder, b. all alone, onely, chief.
- alhabor, a. (Canis major) the greater dog starre.
- alswa, d. also.
- ally, f. b. kin.
- alien, f, allie.
- Alisandre, Alexandria in Egypt, now called Scanderia.
- almurie, a. the denticle of Capricorne.
- algrim, a. (algebra.) The art of figurate numbers.
- alterate, l. chaunged.
- Almicanteras, a. the name of the Circles, which are imagined to pass thorow every degree of the Meridian parallei to the Horizon, up to the Zenith.
- alose, l. commend.
- aldebaran, a. (oculus Tauri) the Bulls eye.
- aledge, i. ease.
- almanake, a. g. a Month, a Kalendar.
- all a boone, b. made request.
- allegeance, i. ease.
- Allidatha, a. the Index of the Astrolabe.
- allaundes, f. greyhounds.
- Amadriades, g. Nymphs, that live and dye with the Trees.
- Amalgamyng, using a mixture of quick-silver and metals.
- amate, d. daunted.
- ametised, f. quenched.
- amenused, f. diminished.
- amorets, lovers favours.
- amortised, l. killed.
- Amphibologies, g. forms of speaking, wherein one Sentence hath contrary sences.
- ancelle, l. an handmaid.
- anigate, occasion.
- anhowve, b. hoover.
- Anelace, (Prolog.) a falchion or wood-knife. Which I gather out of Matthew Paris, page 535, where he writeth thus; Quorum unus videns occiduam partem dorsi (of Richard Earl Marshal, then fighting for his life in Ireland) minus armis communitam, peroussit eum in posteriora (loricam sublevando) cum quodam genere cul [...]elli, quod vulgariter Anelacitus nuncupatur, & laetaliter vulnerabat eum cultellum usque ad manubrium immergendo; which Annelace was worn about the girdlesteed of the Body, as was the pouch or purse: For thus, pag. 542. writeth the same Matthew Paris; Inter quos Petrus de Rivalis primus in causam [Page] vocatus apparuit coram rege in habitu clericali, cum [...]onsura, & lata corona, analaceo tamen alumbali dependentè, &c.
- anney, b. annoy.
- annueller, f. secular.
- anoy, forethink.
- antiphoner, g. a certain service book.
- anhowue, to hover.
- anticlaudianus, a certain book written by one Alanus de Insulis.
- antem, g. a song.
- appale, b. decay.
- appayre, b. decay.
- apparell, f. prepare.
- apaled, unpleasant.
- appeteth, l. desireth.
- append, l. belong.
- apoplexie, g. dead palsie.
- apposen, i. demand, object.
- aprentise, f. skill.
- aprise, b. adventure, or shew.
- aquiler, f. needle-case.
- arace, f. to deface.
- arblasters, f. Cross-bows.
- arrest, f. durance, quietness, stay, an assault, also he that tarieth still.
- aretteth, aret, impute, layeth blame.
- areest, f. quietness.
- arrest, f. standers, remainers.
- aretted, b. accounted.
- arere, f. behind.
- Argonauticon, g. A book written by Apollonius Rhodius Alexandrinus, wherein he speaketh of Jason, and of them which went with him to Colchos to fetch the golden Fleece.
- argoile, f. clay.
- arret, i. to charge.
- ariet, the sign Aries.
- arite, arest, stay.
- arist, b. arose.
- arke diurne, l. day.
- arke, f. compasse, bow.
- armipotent, l. mighty in arms.
- armonie, g. musick.
- arsnecke, i. Zanderacha, Orpin made of red Ceruse burned.
- arten, l. restrain.
- arted, l. forced.
- arted, l. constrained.
- ascaunces, as who should say, as though.
- asterte, let pass.
- assise, f. order.
- askes, d. ashes.
- astert, b. scaped, passed.
- aspect, l. face, or look.
- Asterlagour, g. an Astrolabe.
- * Astronomie, He that will be a Physician according to Homers Prescription, [...], that is, equivalent to any, ought to be skilful in Astronomy, and Magick natural. For if by Astronomy he be not able to judge in what state the Heavens stood, and what their Aspects were, when his patient sickened: and by Magick natural to calculate his Nativity, thereby to know which of the heavenly bodies ruled most in his birth, he shall hardly, or but by chance, conjecture to what end his Sickness will sort.
- aswith, b. forthwith.
- asure, f. blew.
- asckance, b. as if, aside.
- ashate, f. buying.
- assised, sure,
- asseth, assent.
- asweued, b. amased.
- asterten, b. escape.
- assoile, b. answer, declare.
- as, how.
- as wis, b. as verily.
- attaint, f. tried.
- atamed, b. set on brooch.
- atterly, b. earnestly.
- attoure, b. towards, also attire.
- attoure, f. attire for women.
- at erst, b. in earnest.
- * Athalanta, was daughter to Gaeneus, who contending in running with them which did woe her, was at the last overcome hy Hippomenes, who cast three golden Apples in her way, which stayed her in taking of them up, and so she was overcome.
- athroted, d. choked.
- atwin, b. asunder.
- attempre, f. moderate.
- attenes, b. at ones.
- attwite, b. to make blame worthy, to upbraid.
- * Athalus, That Athalus Asiaticus was the first Inventor of the Chess, Johannes Sarisburiensis in his Policraticon, lib. 1. chap. 5. doth witness, from whence (no doubt) Chaucer had it, as he had many things else, being a work full of variety and skill, and therefore justly commended by J. Lipsius. There it may appear, that Athalus invented the game called Abacus, the which word, as it hath divers significations, so it is taken for Latrunculorum lusus, that is, the Chess play, as out of Macrobius and others may be proved.
- aureat, l. golden.
- aumener, b. cubbard.
- aurore, l. morning.
- augrim stones, a. pibbles to cast account withal.
- auntreth, b. maketh adventure.
- austrine, l. froward.
- autentike, f. of authority.
- aumer, Amber.
- autremite, f. another attire.
- auale, f. go down.
- auailed, assaulted.
- auaile, f. send down.
- auaunt, f. a brag, forward, apace, set forward.
- auaunt, f. forward, apace.
- auenant, f. agreeable, comely.
- auer, i. bribery, richess.
- awayte, watch, circumspection.
- awayte, d. watch by way:
- awayts, (insidiae) b. ambushments.
- awayte, b. tarrying, watching, pending, secrecy.
- awarde, b. judgement:
- awhaped, b. amased, daunted.
- awhere, desire.
- awrecketh, b. revengeth.
- axes, b. the ague.
- ay, egg.
- ayle, b. ever.
- Azimutes, a. great circles meeting in the Zenith, and passing all the degrees of the Horison.
- Bandon, d. company, sect, custody.
- bargenet, A song or sonnet.
- bargaret, A kind of dance.
- barme, b. lappe.
- bawsin, big, some say it is a Badger or Gray.
- baggingly, (tumide) disdainfully.
- baronage, f. lords.
- base, g. the foundation or ground of any thing.
- balais of entayle, f. precious stones engraved.
- baudrie, b. bravery.
- barmecloth, (limas) b. an Apron or safegard.
- bath, b. both.
- bale, b. sorrow.
- barbicans, b. watch Tours, in the Saxon Tongue, borough kennings.
- baudricke, f. furniture, a sword girdle.
- barkefat, b. Tanners tub.
- baselards, (si [...]ae) swords, daggers.
- balke, d. scape, fault.
- baude, d. brave, bold, lusty.
- barbe, f. a maske or visard.
- [Page] battelled, made with battlements.
- bay, b. stake.
- balefull, b. sorrowful.
- babeuries, f. Antiquets.
- bane, b. destruction.
- bandon, i. company, sect.
- baggingli, (tumidae) b. swellingly, disdainfully.
- bailli, f. government.
- baggeth, disdaineth.
- bayne, f. a bath.
- beausir, f. fair sir.
- belchier, f. good countenance.
- beed, continued.
- bearing, b. behaviour.
- bemes, Trumpets.
- bete, b. make, also abate, placed, also to help.
- beten, b. made.
- bedeth, b. offereth.
- behote, b. promise.
- beshet, d. shut up.
- benimmeth, d. bereaveth.
- beknew, learned out.
- behight, b. promised.
- belchose, f. fair choice.
- berne, b. bear, convey.
- bede, b. put, offer.
- bessegeden, d. besieged.
- bete, b. help.
- behoteth, promiseth.
- bede, dwelled, continued.
- bewared, b. spent.
- bewrien, b. to bewray.
- belle, f. good.
- beest, f. a beast.
- bell Isaude, f. well spoken.
- behete, behight, b. promised.
- benison, f. b. blessing.
- bendes, f. bands.
- bey, b. obey.
- bent, b. a steep place.
- betressed, deceived.
- bewrowned, b. spoken in the ear.
- besien, b. trouble.
- bewri, b. declare.
- bend, b. a muffler or cale.
- beten, f. to make a band, to kindle.
- beliue, b. anon.
- besey, b. become.
- bereth, b. behaveth.
- belomie, f. fair or good friend.
- bey, b. buy.
- behete, b. promise.
- Belmari, Taken to be that Country in Barbary, called by Vassens, Benamarin.
- Besant, g. A Greekish Coin called Bizantium, as William Malmesbury saith, because it was the Coin of Constantinople, sometime called Bizantium.
- berne, b. to carry.
- beset, set packing.
- bewrecke, b. revenged.
- behew, b. guilded.
- becke, f. b. bill, beak.
- belt, b. girdle.
- betren, b. sprinckled; also winding about.
- betrassed, b. deceived, betrayed.
- bete, abate.
- bette, d. better, quickly.
- benes, b. bones.
- bemeint, b. lamented, bemoned.
- beyet, b. begotten.
- bismar, f. (bizarre) fantastical strangeness.
- birell, i. fine glass, also a kind of precious stone.
- Bialacoile, f. fair welcoming.
- bid, d. pray.
- bit, b. bad, commanded.
- bineme, d. bereave.
- bint, b. bound.
- bigin, bigot, f. superstitious hypocrite, or hypocritical woman.
- bittor, b. a certain water-foul.
- bidding, abiding.
- biker, b. a fray.
- bigami, g. twise married.
- blankemanger, f. custard.
- blew Euage, (cyanaeus) of blew colour.
- blith, d. merry.
- bliue, b. quickly, gladly.
- blin, b. cease.
- blasons, f. praises.
- blanch, f. white.
- blandish, l. sooth up.
- blande, l. flattering.
- blankers, f. white.
- blacke buried, Hell.
- bleine, b. a bile.
- blent, d. stayed, turned back, also blind.
- blee, b. sight, hew, favour, look.
- blend, b. blind, to make blind.
- bleue, dleuen, tarry, abide.
- blinke, b. looking aside.
- blo, b. blew.
- blondren, d. toil, bluster.
- bode, b. message or news.
- bode, d. tidings; also, could, was able.
- bodeth, b. sheweth.
- boistous, f. halting; also plain, rude, great.
- bountie, f. goodness.
- bosche, l. a bush.
- boure, b. house.
- boune, f. b. good.
- borne, to burnish.
- bolne, b. to swell.
- bottome, f. bud.
- boun, b. ready.
- boote, b. help.
- bourd, d. a trencher, b. a table.
- bordels, f. brothelhouses.
- boote of bale, b. ease of sorrow.
- bord, bourd, b. jest.
- borace, i. soldar.
- bowne, b. ready.
- bolne, b. swelled.
- bole, a Bull.
- borrow, a pledg, a surety.
- borrell, d. plain, rude.
- bout, b. without.
- bote, b. did bite.
- borrell, f. attire on the head.
- bowke, b. the body, or belly, or the Stomack.
- bone, b. request.
- * Bourd begon, Prologues. This Knight being often among the Knights of the Dutch Order, called Ordo Teutonicus, in Prussia, was for his Worthiness placed by them at the Table, before any of what Nation soever. If any desire to know the Profession of these Knights called Teutonici, it was thus: They having their dwelling at Jerusalem, were bound to entertain Pilgrims, and at Occasions to serve in War against the Saracens. They were apparelled in white, and upon their uppermost Garment did wear a black Cross. And for that this Order was first begun by a certain rich Almaigne, none were received into the same, save only Gentlemen of the Dutch Nation. After Jerusalem was last taken by the Saracens, Anno 1184. these Knights retired to Tolemaida; and that being taken, into Germany, their own Country. And when as there also the People of Prussia used Incu [...]sions upon their Confines, they went unto Frederick the Second, then Emperour, Anno 1220. who granted them leave to make Wars upon them, and to turn the spoil to the maintenance of their Order. After this Conquest of Prussia, these Knights grew rich, and builded there many Temples and Places of Residence for Bishops, who also were enjoyned to wear the Habite of the Order. Chaucer will have his Knight of such Fame, that he was both known and honoured of this Order.
- [Page] braudri, b. graven work.
- braying, f. b. sounding.
- brawnes, b. sinews, muskles.
- brake, steel.
- braket, b. a drink made of water and honey.
- braui, l. reward.
- brat b. a rag.
- braide, b. arose, awaked, took, brake out.
- brast, b. break.
- brayde, b. a burnt, strange fare.
- brede, b. breadth.
- brede, a bride.
- bredgen, b. abridge.
- bren, b. branne.
- brede, abroad.
- brecke, (ruptura) d. a bruse, a breach.
- breme, b. (ferociter) fiercely.
- bretfull, b. top full.
- brige, breach.
- brike, b. astrait, or narrow.
- bronde, d. fury, fire.
- broke, b. enjoy, to like.
- broken, b. brook.
- brocking, b. throbbing.
- brotell, b. brickle.
- brocage, b. means, spokesmen.
- browded, b. embroidred.
- browke, b. to enjoy.
- burnets, f. hoods, attire for the head.
- bugle, b. black horn.
- bumbeth, b. soundeth.
- but, except.
- burled, armed.
- burdon, b. a deep base.
- burned, b. brightly filed, burnished.
- burell, f. fine glass, a precious stone.
- burdon, f. a staff.
- burly brand, b. a great sword.
- burned, burnished.
- burnet, f. wollen.
- buxioning, f. budding.
- buxum, b. dutiful.
- buxumnesse, b. lowliness.
- byddeth, d. prayeth.
- byg, b. build.
- by rew, b. in order.
- bywoxen, b. made senceless, overwept.
- * Caere Inda, Some think it should be Caere Lud, that is, the City of Lud, called London.
- caleweyes, Calure, as Salmon, or other red Fish.
- canceline, f. chamlet.
- camysed, f. flat nosed.
- cankedore, i. woful case.
- call, d. (pulchrum) bravery.
- callot, b. a leud woman.
- canell, d. a Sinnamon tree.
- carects, g. marks, prints.
- cardiacle, g. wringing at the heart.
- canon, g. a rule.
- caitisned, l. chained.
- cadence, l. proof.
- cassidoni, g. a stone growing in Aethiopia, which shineth like Fire. Ex Lib. de Natura Rerum.
- capell, b. an horse.
- caroll, f. a song or dance.
- calsening, f. bringing any mettal into powder.
- catapuce, g. spurge.
- cameline, f. chamlet.
- calked, l. cast.
- * Ceruse, White Lead, the Composition whereof is thus: Fossa fiat in Terra: claudatur circumquaque muro paruo: demum accipiantur laminae plumbeae oblongae formae quadrangulae, & projiciantur ex circumfuso super foveam: postmodum projiciatur in fovea acetum forte, bullietque projectum super superficiem terrae, & vapor inde resolutus inficiet plumbum: post spacium vero vinus diei vel amplius rade ab illis laminis, quod illis adhaeret, & illud desicca ad Solem, & erit Cerusa.
- certres, i. undoubtful signs:
- centure, g. the point in the midst of a circle.
- censing, b. casting the smoak, Frankincense.
- celerer, d. butler.
- cell, d. a study.
- chasteleine, f. a gentlewoman of a great house.
- chaunters, f. singers.
- chaffer, d. goods, wares.
- chauntepleure, f. that weepeth and singeth together.
- chapelet, f. a garland.
- charters, f. writings.
- chaffare, d. buying and selling.
- chalons, f. blankets, coverings.
- champartie, f. maintaining a quarrel.
- chapiter, b. chief Rulers in Abbies.
- charge, hurt, harm.
- chekelaton, b. a stuff of Checker-work, made of Cloth of Gold.
- cheuisance, f. merchandise, devise, a bargain.
- chees, b. chuse.
- chevice, f. redeem; also to effect.
- cheorte, f. love, jealousie, pity.
- chest, (subjectum) receptable.
- cheue, d. thrive.
- chest, (opprobrium) slaunder.
- cheuesayle, f. a gorget.
- chert, f. love.
- cherisaunce, b. comfort.
- cherts, f. merry folks.
- cheuesayle, f. a gorget.
- chike, a chekin.
- chincheri, f. nigardliness.
- chiuer, b. to shake.
- Christopher, l. a picture of a Man, carrying a Child on his shoulders over a River.
- chinch, f. nigardly.
- chirking, b. a noise, making a noise.
- chirking, (stridens) crashing.
- chite, b. chiteth.
- chilandri, f. a goldfinch.
- chiuancie, f. chivalry, riding.
- churliche, b. plain, homely.
- churle, b. slave.
- church Reues, b. Church-wardens.
- chymbe, d. the uttermost part of a barrel.
- citrination, perfect digestion, or the colour proving the Philosophers stone.
- citrine, f. yellow.
- citriall, i. a gitterne, or dulcimer, called Sambuca.
- cierges, f. Wax Candles, Lamps.
- clarions, d. trumpets.
- cleape, b. call.
- clare, clari, b. wine and hony mingled (Vinum rubedum) d. red wine.
- clepen, b. call.
- clergion, g. a clark.
- clenched, b. fastned.
- cleuis, b. clifts, rocks.
- clergicall, g. learned.
- climbe, b. found.
- clip, clippeth, d. embraceth, kisseth.
- climate, g. a portion of the Firmament between South and North, varying in one day half an hours space.
- clicket, b. an Instrument of Iron to lift up a latch.
- clotlefe, (personata) b. the great Burleaf.
- clomben, d. ascended.
- clum, a note of silence.
- cockney, b. a wisard, disard, fool.
- controue, f. devise.
- [Page] controuer, f. deviser.
- * Constellation, the motion or inward working of the stars or heavenly elements, upon our earthly bodies.
- couercle, f. a cover, a lid.
- contemplance, l. private study.
- * Collect, Expans, years, and Roots, are terms belonging to the Tolitane Tables, and so be his Centres, his Arguments, Proportionels, &c. Face and Tearme be dignities belonging to the Planets.
- costei, d. to walk.
- convaile, recover.
- compere, f. d. gossip.
- commensall, f. a table companion.
- convention, l. a bargain.
- corare, f. overcome.
- costrell, b. a wine-pot.
- controuer, f. deviser.
- courtepie, d. a short gawberdine, or upper Garment.
- corrumpeth, i. stinketh, putrifieth.
- couth, b. known perfectly.
- cogge, a cogbote.
- columbine, l. dove-like.
- cordewane, f. dry leather.
- conteke, f. strife.
- costage, d. charge, cost.
- corigeth, l. correcteth.
- corven, d. taken, carved.
- couched, f. interlaied, underlaied.
- couent, b. a number of thirteen Friars.
- con, d. know, be able.
- coitu, l. copulation.
- confecture, l. a medicine.
- coy, coyen, f. to quiet, to flatter, also secret, dainty, nice.
- cop, d. f. top.
- conisance, f. knowledge.
- covine, b. deceit.
- connen, d. can.
- coagulate, l. curdled, joyned.
- colfox, b. a black or fearful Fox.
- corare, i. overcome.
- controue, f. to faine, to devise.
- combust, l. burnt, scorched.
- coines, f. quinches.
- coynt, f. strange.
- counterpleted, b. controuled.
- corosiue, l. eating, wasting.
- commoning, l. part taking.
- coupe gorge, f. cut throat.
- corbets, f. d. places in wals, where Images stand.
- cornmuse, l. Musick on Cornets.
- couenable, f. convenient.
- coulpe, l. fault.
- coure, b. kneel, stoop.
- commaunce, f. community.
- coilons, f. stones.
- coyse, b. joliness, niceness.
- coart, l. enforce.
- courfine, f. fine heart.
- compinable, f. fit for company.
- cope, f. a cloak.
- crampisheth, crampesh, d. gnaweth.
- crallit, b. engraven.
- creanseth, f. dealeth on credit.
- creance, f. faith or trust.
- crepusculis, l. crepuscles, or dawning.
- cresse, f. a rush.
- crispe, l. curled.
- Croiseri, b. they for whom Christ suffered upon the Cross.
- crocke, crucke, f. d. a cup, or stean, an earthen pot.
- crouched, b. blessed.
- crone, b. an old prating Woman.
- crop, f. top.
- crouch, i. cross, bless.
- crowdest, d. thrustest.
- crosselet, f. a melting pot.
- crockes, d. locks of hair.
- croupe, f. buttock.
- crull, d. curled.
- curreidew, b. curry favour.
- cure bulli, f. tanned leather:
- eucurbite, l. a kind of long necked Glass.
- * Curfew, William the Conquerour in the first year of his reign, commanded, That in every Town and Village a Bell should be rung every night at eight of the Clock, and that all People should then put forth their Fire and Candle, and go to Bed. The ringing of this Bell was called in the French Tongue Curfew, that is, Cover Fire.
- culpons, parts, or streiks; heaps.
- culleth, b. pulleth, enforceth.
- * Dan Burnell, Nigellus Wireker, Monk of Canterbury, a Man of great Reading and Judgment, as Leland writeth of him, was not affraid to write of the faults of Curates, & the mis-spending of Church Goods; even to William Longshampe, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Chancellor of England, a Man of all Men under the Sun most malicious. He did write in Verse to the foresaid William, a Book, under the Title of Brunellus, called Speculum stultorum; And this is it which Chaucer calleth here, Burnell the Ass. He lived, Anno 1200. in the Days of King John.
- dawes, b. days, time.
- daweth, b. springeth, beginneth.
- daren, darreigne, b. attempt, challenge.
- daw, b. wax day.
- dare, b. stare.
- daffe, b. dasterd.
- dagges, (fractura) latchets cut of leather.
- dagon, (fractura) a piece or remnant.
- dagged, b. slitted.
- dates, b. accounts.
- dayned, f. vouchsafed.
- defayted, decayed, senceless.
- dere, b. hurt, grieve.
- deluge, l. a flood.
- deviant, l. far off, wandering.
- definished, l. proved.
- desiderie, l. lust.
- debonairely, f. meekly.
- deis, b. a seat.
- debonaire, f. gentle, humble.
- deaurat, l. shining.
- denwere, b. doubt.
- destrer, f. horse of Arms.
- de pardeux, f. by God.
- debate, f. to fight.
- derne, (dirus) earnest, careful, secret.
- deintie, desire.
- decoped, d. peaked.
- demeane, f. behave.
- deficate, l. deified.
- deiden, died.
- deme, condemn.
- depe lowpe, (transparens) giving thorough light.
- deslaui, d. lecherous, servile, beastly.
- dey, dead; also [...], a dairy woman.
- demaine, f. toll, custom, possession, also to rule.
- demoniake, g. possessed of a Devil.
- demin, b. Judge.
- dely, b. small.
- deuoire, f. labour, endeavour, duty.
- dent, b. stroke.
- demeane, f. complain, behave.
- delue, d. digg, ditch.
- deignous, f. disdainful.
- deuinals, l. wisards.
- defended, d. forbad, forbidden.
- dequace, b. dash.
- [Page] dexe, a desk.
- defouled, shamed.
- defence, f. charge, forbidding.
- determinate, l. limited.
- dispaired, b. discouraged.
- dissentori, a kind of still.
- digne, l. worthy, mete; also lyth, gentle, yielding, also to vouchsafe.
- diuinistre, l. a divine.
- dike, b. ditch.
- diapred, f. diversified.
- diuinaile, (Aenigma) g. a riddle.
- dight, b. made ready, handled, used; also to cover.
- distance, l. discord, danger.
- dispended, l. wasted.
- dim, b. obscure.
- disheuild, f. barehairred.
- dite, b. a treatise.
- disconsolate, l. without comfort.
- dismal, l. (dies malus) unluckey.
- dispone, l. dispose.
- disparage, f. disgrace.
- distreineth, effecteth.
- disceuer, spend.
- distraineth, vexeth.
- diameter, g. a line dividing any figure into two equal parts.
- disease, b. vexation.
- disapered, l. vanished.
- discure, b. shew.
- diuerseth, l. turneth.
- disioint, b. jeopardy.
- dissoned, l. dissonant.
- docked, b. cut off.
- done houres, b. do servise to God.
- doleth, l. grieveth.
- douced, a pipe made of box, sounding most sweetly.
- domesman, b. Jugde.
- doughtie, b. stout.
- dortoure, f. dormitorium, a sleeping place.
- domed, b. judged.
- dormant, l. unremoved.
- doced, f. a sweet Instrument.
- dole, b. sorrow.
- doluen, d. buried.
- donet, l. a book so called.
- dowtremere, f. fair wearing.
- dowle, b. deal.
- dow, b. give.
- dretching, delay.
- dreri, b. heavy, sorrowful.
- dretch, to stay, to hinder, to tarry, to dream.
- draftie, d. irksom, filthy.
- drerines, b. sorrow.
- drenched, b. overcome, drowned.
- drerinesse, b. heart-grief.
- dreint, b. drowned.
- dray, drey, dry.
- dri, drien, b. to suffer.
- droui, d. filthy.
- drugge, b. toyl.
- drurie, modesty, sobriety, comliness.
- drough, b. drew.
- drenching, taking in.
- drunkelew, d. given to drink, drunken.
- * Dulcarnon, is a proportion in Euclid, lib. 1. Theorem. 33. propos. 47. which was found out by Pythagoras after an whole years study, and much beating of his Brain: In thankfulness whereof, he sacrificed an Ox to the Gods; which Sacrifice he called Dulcarnon. Alexander Neckam an ancient Writer, in his Book De Naturis Rerum, compoundeth this word of Dulia, and Caro, and will have Dulcarnon to be quasi sacrificium Carnis. Chaucer aptly applyeth it to Creseide in this place; shewing that she was as much amazed how to answer Troilus, as Pythagoras was wearied to bring his desire to effect.
- duresse, f. hardness.
- dwale, (solanum soporiferum) d. nightshade, provoking sleep.
- dwined, d. dried, consumed.
- Ebracke, Hebrew.
- ebracke, Jews.
- ecclesiast, g. a churchman.
- ecliptike line, g. the circumference of the circle, wherein the Sun finisheth his yearly motion.
- echen, eche, b. increase, draw out.
- echeth, b. helpeth.
- eft, b. again, soon.
- effunde, l. utter.
- effated, f. sorted, defaced.
- eftris, efters, entries, ways, galleries.
- egment, b. procurement.
- eigteth mow, d. may grant.
- elate, l. stout.
- elenge, b. strange.
- ele, help.
- eldeth, b. maketh old.
- elth, eld, old age.
- eluish, b. wicked, froward.
- empaired, much grieved.
- emplede, f. sue.
- embolfe cercle, g. the oblique circle.
- embosed, hanged out his tongue with weariness.
- emforth, after, according.
- emispere, g. half the compass of the visible heaven.
- emplaster, f. set out, paint.
- emprise, f. enterprise; also fashion, order.
- enbolned, b. swelled.
- enchafeth, (flagrat) burneth.
- Eneidos, g. a work written by Virgil, of the travels of Aeneas.
- endry, b. endure.
- engined, d. racked.
- enhansed, f. exalted.
- enhauncen, lift up, raise.
- engine, f. wit, devise.
- engluting, f. stopping.
- enbibing, l. sucking.
- enewed, renewed.
- enmoised, f. comforted.
- encontrewayle, f. prevent, to meet.
- encheson, f. cause, occasion.
- enchafed, f. heated.
- enpited, delited.
- enlangored, f. languishing.
- ensise, b. quality, fashion, order.
- entreteden, d. handle.
- entalenten, f. move, stir up.
- entaile, f. graved work.
- entremete, f. deal, meddle.
- entermined, l. undermined.
- entred, l. buried.
- entalented, f. ingrafted.
- enteched, f. defiled.
- entetched, f. qualified, spotted.
- entame, touch, handle.
- entailed, f. carved.
- entriketh, b. entrappeth.
- entriked, deceived; also mingled.
- enteched, f. qualified, or spotted.
- entremes, f. intermingled.
- enuelopt, f. wrapped.
- enuiron, f. round, round about.
- equinoctial, l. when the nights and days be all of one length.
- ernes, b. promise.
- erke, b. weary, loathing.
- erne, greatly.
- ernefull, b. sorrowful.
- * Eros, g. Whereas some Copies have Hereos, some Hernes, and some such like counterfeit word, whereof can be given no reason; I have set down Eros, i. Cupid: as most agreeing in my Opinion with the matter; which I gather thus: Lucian, in his second Dialogue bringeth in Cupid teaching Jupiter how to becomeamiable, and in him, how lovers may be made acceptable to their ladies; not by weeping, watching, and fasting, nor by furious melancholick fits, but by comly behaviour. The words in the Greek, are thus much in Latin: Si voles amabilis esse ne (que) concutias Aegida, [Page] neque fulmen geras: sed suavissimum teipsum exhibe: & vestem sume purpuream, crepidas subliga auratas: ad tibiam & ad Timpana composito gressu incede, & videbis quod plures te sequentur, quam Bacchum Maenades. So that the lovers of Eros, that is, Cupids Servants, do carry themselves comely in all their Passions, and their Maladies are such as shew no open distemperature of body or mind. which mediocrity this Arcite was far from keeping. And whereas some will have us read Heroes, i. Noble-men; I cannot dislike their Opinion, for it may fitly stand with the sense of the place.
- erre, f. way.
- erst, b. earnest.
- escrite, f. a writing.
- esperance, f. hope.
- esploit, perfection.
- espiritueles, l. heavenly.
- essoine, f. delay.
- eth, b. easie.
- etymologise, g. to shew the true interpretation of a word.
- euin, b. equal.
- euin, b. upright.
- exiteth, l. moveth.
- exorcismes, g. adjurations.
- expleiten, f. make shew, counterfeit.
- eyth, b. easle.
- ey, an egg.
- Fast, wedded.
- fare, f. gone.
- falding, a kind of course cloth.
- fare, faire.
- fay, f. truth.
- fast frets, full fraughteth.
- farce, f. paint.
- fage, a fable.
- fare, b. chear.
- farden, b. fared.
- famulers, l. helpers.
- falsed, l. deceived.
- fallas, l. deceit.
- fame, defame, slander.
- fassed, l. stuffed.
- faitors, i. deceivers, flatterers.
- fay, l. truly, also fidelity.
- fairy, b. a goodly sight, the place where Hobgolins and Fairies dwell.
- fantom, f. fancy, vain vision.
- falke, b. people, folk.
- faw, b. glad, joyful.
- fare, f. to go, also a stir.
- faunes, g. rustical gods.
- falsen, f. deceive.
- fantom, f. vain vision.
- facond, i. speech.
- fendli, b. ugly.
- ferne yeare, February.
- fetise, b. handsom.
- ferthing, b. a thin scale.
- fermerere, an overseer of cattel.
- fele, many, also feling.
- ferd, b. fared.
- fermases, g. medicines.
- * Fenne, Avicen divideth his Canons into partitions, which he calleth Fens.
- ferth, b. the fourth.
- fermentation, l. giving Life to the Philosophers stone.
- feled, known.
- fers, the queen in Chess-play.
- feture, f. handsomness.
- fend, b. devil.
- ferne, b. long time.
- feestlych, d. pleasant.
- fendish, b. divelish.
- ferly, b. strange.
- ferd, b. fared.
- felloun, f. deadly, cruel.
- fele, b. knowledge.
- fethered, b. shaked his wings.
- fesse, b. indue.
- feele, find.
- fele homages, f. faithful subjection.
- fell, b. the skin.
- feest, b. mirth, joy.
- fere, b. a companion.
- ferth, b. the fourth.
- fete, b. fine.
- fine, l. cease.
- finance, f. end.
- flaming, red.
- flash of flames, sheaf of Arrows.
- flaw, yellow.
- flay, did fly.
- flebring, b. flattering, slaunder.
- fleten, b. abound.
- flemer, b. expeller.
- flone, an arrow.
- flemed, b. daunted.
- fleming, conquest.
- flid, b. flie.
- flite, flight, b. chide.
- * Floreine, A Coin of the value of 3 s. 4 d. or thereabouts, and such were called Florenes de Scuto. Others there were called Florenes Regales, contained within the price of 2 s. 10 d. q.
- flo, an arrow.
- flode, abounded,
- floreth, l. florisheth.
- floiting, f. d. whistling.
- fonden, labour.
- fonde, make, contend, to labour; also to make a fool.
- fonge, b. take.
- fonne, b. fool: also to be foolish.
- fonnes, devises.
- fone, fine, l. make an end.
- fother, b. a Wain-load of twenty hundred weight.
- forstraught, b. daseled.
- fore, gone.
- forfraught, beset.
- forrei, f. to provide horse meat.
- forrage, f. fodder, course meat.
- forcer, f. copher or chest.
- forward, course, condition, promise.
- forwined, d. dried up.
- fordo, overthrown.
- for thy, b. therefore.
- forpined, consumed.
- forleten, forlete, forsake, broken off.
- forloine, rechase, terms of hunting.
- forleien, d. wander.
- fordo, b. kill.
- forleten, foryetten, let pass, neglected, forlorne.
- fortuna maior, l. Jupiter.
- forgist, forgiving.
- forth, theft.
- forwelked, (marcidus) d. dryed up.
- forlaine, forsaken.
- fort, l. strong.
- forleteth, giveth over.
- forlyth, spoileth.
- forsongen, b. weary with singing.
- forge, f. work.
- foreyne, b. a Jaques.
- formel, his make.
- forfare, b. forlorne.
- fore, fared, gone.
- foredid, killed.
- foryede, b. overwent.
- fordo, undone, lost.
- fone, b. enemies.
- foison, f. plenty.
- foiterers, f. vagabonds.
- foothot, b. forthwith.
- fowlefaile, b. err greatly.
- folili, f. rashly.
- fomen, b. enemies.
- fongeth, taketh use.
- fownd, framed.
- foiles, f. leaves.
- frape, b. a company, a rabble.
- frained, restrained, also asked.
- fret, b. a circle.
- freneth, maketh strange noise.
- fret, f. fraught.
- frend, fremd, b. strange.
- freelti, b. frail.
- froy, from you.
- franks, f. french crowns.
- freten, b. devour.
- franchise, f. freedom.
- [Page] freel, b. frail.
- freteth, f. rubbeth, chafeth.
- fret, f. turn, fraught.
- frouncen, d. f. wrinckling.
- fremed, b. wild, strange.
- fret full, set full.
- frened, b. strange.
- frounce, f. a wrincle.
- froise, (frixura) f. a Pancake, or Tansey.
- frounklesse, f. plain.
- fryth, b. a wood.
- fullich, fully.
- fulke, an hollow place.
- furiall, f. cruel.
- fusible, l. that may be molten.
- fuir, i. fury.
- fye, defie.
- fined, l. ended.
- fish, the sign Pisces.
- fire leuin, b. lightning.
- Gabbing, b. lying.
- gadling, b. stragling.
- garnison, f. preparation.
- Garnade, Garnata in Spain.
- garison, f. a defence.
- gable, the fore front of an House.
- galoch, f. a kind of shoe.
- gaytere berries, (virga sanguinea) prickwood.
- gastnes, b. terror.
- gargoning, f. strange speaking.
- gab, b. prate or lye.
- * Ganilion, which betrayed the Army of the Christians, under Charlemain, to the Saracens, and was therefore torn in pieces with four Horses.
- galaxi, (lactea via) g. a tract of [...]stars called Watling-street.
- gale, b. yawle.
- gale, b. flout, also cha [...]e.
- galpeth, b. belcheth.
- gallard, f. lusty, frollick.
- garison, f. to defend.
- * Gawyn, This Gawyn was Sisters Son to Arthur the great, King of the Britains, a most famous man in War, and in all manner of Civility; As in the Acts of the Brittains we may read. In the year 1082. in a Province of Wales, called Rose, was his Scpulchre found, and his Body, affirmed by many, to have been of the length of fourteen foot.
- galliens, Galens works.
- gate, occasion.
- gaudi, b. brave.
- gawreth, b. stareth.
- gawre, b. stare.
- gawde, b. a trifle.
- geri, gerifull, mutable, also cruel.
- gend, f. seemly.
- gere, b. jest, frensie.
- gergon, b. chattering, prating.
- geomancie, g. conjuration by circles in the earth.
- gent, f. d. comely, proper.
- gesseran, a brestplate.
- giplere, f. a bag or pouch.
- gippon, a doublet, or light coat.
- gigges, b. drabs.
- girde, b. strike.
- gigging, sounding.
- gigges, (garrulitas) babling.
- gite, a gown.
- gisarme, gasa, a certain weapon.
- gipe, a coat full of pleits.
- gigges, bablings.
- giglotlyke, b. strumper like.
- gladly, commonly.
- glapeth, b. glistereth.
- glede, b. fire, embers, flame, sparkles, ashes.
- gle, b. melody.
- glent, b. glanced, cast.
- gleire, b. white.
- glase, b. to glose.
- gleden, d. gon, slidden.
- gledes, imbers, also flames.
- gleue, b. a spear.
- glitteren, b. glister, shine.
- glitering, b. shining.
- glode, b. ascended.
- glowed, b. stared.
- glombe, b. frown.
- gloten, covering.
- glose, perswade.
- glose, b. flatter, also the exposition of a dark speech.
- glede, b. puttock.
- glowden, d. shined.
- glittren, b. shine.
- gnarre, b. an hard knot, as in wood; a short thick grub.
- gnast, gnash.
- gnew, b. gnawed.
- gnosse, i. fool, chuffe, miser.
- gods sonn, b. that God sendeth.
- gods half, b. on Gods side.
- gorget, f. a throat.
- gore, (lacinia) a pleat or fold.
- golyerdies, f. ravenously mouthed.
- gowreth, b. stareth.
- gonfennon, f. a little flag.
- gonge, b. Jaques.
- gossomor, b. things that flye in the Air in Summer time like Copwebs.
- Goodmes, f. good time, or mood.
- gourde, b. a bottel, made of a gourd.
- golit, d. throat.
- gotysh, i. sottish.
- gore, an arbor under a gourd.
- goodlihead, gay shew.
- grame, i. sorrow, mishap, d. anger.
- graythed, devised.
- grapenel, an Instrument with many hooks.
- graspeth, b. catcheth fast.
- gratch, b. apparel.
- grauen, d. buried.
- grant mercy, f. I thank you.
- graue, bury.
- graieth, b. to make trim.
- great see (Mar maggiore) anciently Pontus Euxinus.
- grece, f. gray, gray amise of Russie Squirrels.
- greith, b. remove.
- grete, b. wepe.
- grenehed, rashness.
- gre, f. good part.
- grith, b. agreement.
- greues, b. trees, boughs, leaves, grass.
- gret, b. saluted.
- greyned, made.
- grede, b. cried.
- grint, b. grinded.
- grispe, d. gripe.
- grisely, b. abhominably, gastly, fearfully.
- grill, b. could.
- grofly, b. flat on the ground.
- groine, b. a froward look.
- growbed, b. digged.
- gruffe, groufe, b. groveling:
- gruell, b. pottage.
- guerdon, f. reward.
- guerdonlesse, f. unrewarded.
- guerring, i. brawling.
- gullet, d. a throat.
- gye, b. guide.
- gyre, b. trance.
- * Harrolds, whereas in some books it is, my King of Harrolds shalt thou be; it is now corrected thus (my King of Harlots shalt thou be.) For so it is in the French Moralization of Molinet, 149. where he is called Roi des Ribaulds, which is the King of Harlots, or wicked Persons: an Office of great account in times past, and yet used in the Court of France. Of this office speaketh Johannes Tillius in his second book De rebus Gallicis, under the title De Praefecto praetorio Regis. But more hereof when time shall serve in M. F. Thin [...] Comment.
- halse, d. a neck.
- [Page] hasard, d. dising.
- haw, a yard, black, have.
- halse, b. charge.
- haire, hair-cloth.
- hayes, f. hedges.
- haketon, f. a Jacket without sleves.
- hawberke, f. a gorget.
- halpe, b. helped.
- halke, (angulus) b. corner,
- herne, valley.
- haubergion, (lorica) f. a coat of male.
- hate, b. benamed.
- habite, l. plite.
- harlotrise, b. bawdry.
- halt, b. held purpose.
- hauten, comely.
- haried, b. pulled.
- hayne, f. hatred.
- hafe, lifted.
- hace, b. hath.
- han, b. have.
- hawbacke, b. return.
- hardely, b. stoutly, also verily.
- hackeney, d. a trotting horse.
- hameled, d. cut off, abated.
- halow, hollow.
- halsing, b. embrasing.
- harrow, (apagesis) away, away, fie, fie.
- happeth, b. covereth embraseth.
- hauselines, (faemoralia) breches.
- hat, b. was called.
- hallowes, b. Saint.
- haulues, d. parts.
- hawtently, b. solemnly.
- halt, held, holdeth, judgeth.
- haunten, b. use.
- haunce, set out.
- hanceled, cut off.
- halt, b. performeth, holdeth.
- halteth, (trahit) draweth.
- hauoire, f. possession.
- henten, hent, b. catch.
- hele, heyle, b. health.
- hethen, b. mockery.
- hewen, hewed, b. coloured.
- hecled, wrapped.
- herbigage, f. lodging.
- held, accompt, accompted.
- hereid, b. praised, honoured.
- hewed, b. coloured.
- hew, hewis, b. colours, welfare, beauty.
- hestes, b. wills, promise, commandements.
- heyne, b. to labourer, drudge,
- heauen, b. to shove, to lift.
- hewmond, new made.
- healed, b. covered, heard.
- heroner, a special long winged Hawk.
- hent, b. catched.
- herborow, d. lodging.
- heriyng, b. praise.
- herawdes, b. furious parts in a play.
- here and houne, hare and hound.
- helmed, b. defended.
- heale, hele, b. hold, cover.
- here and hace, b. hoarse and harsh.
- healed, heard.
- helded, b. holden down.
- herieth, b. praiseth.
- helest, did hold.
- hend, b. gentle.
- hernia, g. the disease called bursting.
- hote, hete, heten, d. vow, promise.
- * Heisugge, The Heisugge, called Curruca, is a little Bird in whose nest the Cuckow laieth her-Eggs, and when they be hatched, and grown to some bigness, they eat the Bird that bred them.
- hew, welfare.
- herden, did hear.
- heuen, b. rise up.
- hem, them.
- heth, b. brabes or such like.
- her, their.
- hete, d. was named.
- henters, b. catchers.
- height, b. were named.
- heepe, b. help.
- heraud, d. proclaim, set forth.
- hew, to hover.
- henten, b. to catch.
- hemisphere, g. half the compass of the visible Heaven.
- highest, maketh hast.
- hight, b. promised.
- hierdesse, b. herdwoman.
- hith, b. make hast.
- highten, b. promise.
- hip, b. the red berry on the brier.
- hidous, f. b. great.
- hite, hete, hote, d. is called.
- hild, b. powred.
- hidiously, b. fiercely, fearfully.
- holt, holden.
- hoten, b. called.
- horologe, g. a clock.
- hote the knot, make fast.
- hoppen, d. leap.
- howten, b. hallow.
- howgates, how.
- hore, b. white.
- holoure, b. horemonger.
- hostei, to lay siege.
- homicide, g. murderer.
- hoten, b. make an unpleasant noise.
- hopesteres, (gubernaculum tenentes) pilots.
- horde, b. heap.
- howselin, b. receive the Sacrament.
- homager, f. subject.
- howuer, an hoverer.
- hold, with-held.
- houed, b. taried.
- hoker, b. stoutness, frowardness.
- horrow, (squalidus) beastly, base, slanderous.
- houe, b. lifted up, to hover, also a shew.
- horoscope, g. the ascendent of ones Nativity.
- hough, how.
- hostell, f. a town house.
- hote, b. promise, bid.
- hostilements, necessaries.
- hold, beholden.
- holtes hore, b. woods white.
- holt, d. a grove.
- hoting, d. promising.
- hurleth, f. falleth, maketh a noise.
- * Hugh of Lincolne, In the 20th year of Henry the Third, eighteen Jews were brought to London from Lincolne, and hanged for crucifying a Child of eight years old; which was this Hugh, whereof Chaucer speaketh, as may be proved out of Matthew Paris, and Walsingham.
- hurleth, (obstrepit) f. maketh a noise.
- hurtell, skirmish:
- hurtlest, carrieth, throweth.
- hurtlen, b. thrust.
- hulstred, b. hidden.
- hurtelen, b. provoke.
- humling, b. sounding.
- hyldeth, yieldeth.
- hyne, b. a hiend or husbandman.
- hyerd, heardman, Governour.
- hyerds, b. guides.
- Iape, Jest, a Word by abuse grown odious, and therefore by a certain curious Gentle-woman scraped out in her Chaucer; whereupon her serving man writeth thus: My Mistress cannot be content,To take a Jest as Chaucer ment,But using still a Womans fashion,Allows it in the last Translation:She cannot with a word dispence,Although I know she loves the sence.For such an use the World hath gotThat words are sins, but deeds are not.
- iambeux, f. armour for the legs.
- iane, half pence of Janua, or Galy half pence.
- iapedst, b. jested.
- iangleresses, b. brablers.
- ibet, stamped.
- ibete, set forth.
- [Page] icond, b. learned.
- ich, b. my self.
- ido, b. undone, spoiled.
- idolaster, g. idolatour.
- iet, b. devise.
- iewry, the Jews street or sinagogue.
- iewise, reward by revenge, also a gibber.
- ifete, b. effect.
- ifere, b. together.
- ificched, f. fixed.
- ifounded, b. sunk.
- ifretten, d. devoured.
- igourd, fly.
- igrauen, d. buried.
- ihight, b. called, accompted.
- ihired, honoured.
- ikend, b. known.
- ilimed, taken.
- ilke, b. same.
- illusion, l. deceipt.
- imasked, f. covered.
- imeint, b. mingled.
- imped, b. grafted.
- impetren, l. intreat.
- incantations, i. charms.
- in a threw, b. quickly.
- innerest, f. inward.
- indulgence, l. pardon.
- ingot, the mass or wedge of gold after it is molten, as also the trough wherein it is molten.
- intermete, f. medle.
- incubus, l. the night mare.
- indigence, l. want.
- intremes, f. middle servise, intermingled.
- intresse, lining.
- i not, I know not.
- intermeting, changing.
- inome, d. taken.
- interual, l. distance of time.
- iniquitance, l. disquiet.
- induration, l. making hard.
- inde, f. azure colour.
- in hie, in hast.
- ithe, b. thrive.
- itwight, b. drawn.
- ineched, put in.
- inomen, d. obtained.
- inhild, b. infuse.
- iombre, b. joyn, jumble.
- ionglerie, d. jugling.
- iordans, b. double urinals.
- ioleming, d. joyful.
- iossa, turn.
- ioyeux, f. joyful.
- ipriued, searched.
- ipulled, smoothed.
- irayled, covered, spred.
- ise, beheld.
- isped, (expeditus) dispatched.
- ishad, b. scattered.
- isperi, g. Orizon.
- ishet, b. shut.
- ispended, l. considered.
- ishone, set forth.
- iswent, b. swinged.
- * Iustinian, In the eleventh Book of the Code, De mendicantibus validis; where it is enacted, that if any shall beg, having no cause either by need, or maim, the same shall be examined and searched; and who so shall find him to counterfeit, and proveth the same, Dominium ejus consequetur: and saith Bartoll. He shall be punished, Ad arbitrium Judicis.
- iuuentute, l. youth.
- iupart, b. adventure.
- iubeli, l. joy, gladness for freedom.
- iub, b. bottel.
- iudicum, l. book of Judges.
- iwri, iwrien, hidden.
- iwri, covered, hanged.
- iwimpled, d. mufled, hooded.
- Kalender, chief, first.
- kalends, preamble.
- keiked, kiken, b. stared.
- keinard, micher, hedg-creeper.
- kepe, b. care.
- * Kenelme, This Kenelmus king of the Mercians was innocently slain by his Sister Quendrida, whereby he obtained his Name of a Martyr. In the same place, for Mereturick we now read Mercenrick, which is the Kingdom of Mercia, as the Etymology of the word doth teach. For Rik in the Saxon Tongue signifieth a Kingdom, and Mercen, the marches or bounds of a country. So that Mercenrick is regnum Mercia, whereof both Kenulph and Kenelme were Kings.
- kele, b. to coole.
- kest, b. cast.
- kepen, b. to care.
- kembe, d. deck.
- kemeling, a Brewers vessel.
- kernels, holes or corners in battelments.
- kerueth, greveth.
- ken, d. teach, know.
- kers, (nasturtium) d. waterdresses.
- keuer, b. recover.
- kene, b. sharp.
- kend, b. made me know.
- * Kichell, A Cake which Horrace calleth Libum: Vt (que) sacerdotis fugitibus liba recuso: and with us it is called a Gods Kichell, because Godfathers and Godmothers used commonly to give one of them to their Godchildren, when they asked blessing.
- kith, b. acquaintance.
- kinrest, quiet rest.
- kithen, b. shew.
- kinds, kindels, (faetus) b. young ones.
- kirked, b. turned upward.
- kith, b. make known, shew, acknowledge.
- kid, b. known, made known.
- kitheth, b. sheweth.
- kin, b. kind.
- knarri, b. stubby.
- kned, knit.
- knittest, setlest.
- knockeden, d. did knock.
- knopped, d. tied, laced.
- kon, b. can.
- koueren, f. to hide.
- Lake, fine cloth like lawn.
- largesse, i. liberality.
- lachesse, f. leysines.
- latered, l. laysie, loitring.
- laas, (laqueus) d. net or gin [...]
- laude, l. praise.
- langorous, f. pining:
- lacke, dispraise.
- laft, lest off, enclosed.
- lacke, d. offence: also lie, to dispraise.
- lay, a song.
- lauen, b. draw empty.
- laudes, i. morning servise.
- languerth, i. languisheth.
- latonne, f. copper.
- lacert, i. sinew.
- layuers, (corrigiae) thongs.
- lay, b. law.
- laund, b. a plain between trees.
- lauender, i. f. laundress.
- laued, b. drew.
- lath, b. a barn.
- laften, forsook.
- lasse, less.
- lach, f. lasie.
- larson, f. robbery.
- lacking, dispraising.
- lacken, extenuate, dispraise.
- Lettow, Lituania, part of Sarmatia, joyning to Polonia.
- Leyes, taken to be Levissa, upon the Continent not far from Rhodes.
- lestis, temptations, lusts, pleasures.
- ley, a song.
- lees, leasing, also lost, release.
- lewde, b. ignorant.
- leue, beleve, live, releeve, grant, dear.
- [Page] iet, lete, b. leave forsake,
- leden, language.
- lene, b. lend.
- leueth, beareth.
- leuer, better.
- lech, b. a surgeon.
- leue, b. dear.
- lete, b. left off, to leave.
- lends, (lumbi) d. loins.
- lettrure, f. book learning.
- ledge, d. lay.
- lessel, (umbraculum) bush or hovel.
- lele, right, lawful.
- leite, light.
- legends, l. tales.
- lere, d. to teach.
- leuer, lefe, d. wont. dear, willing, rather.
- leueth, remaineth.
- legisters, i. lawyers.
- leged, resident.
- lete, b. deemed, made shew, shewed.
- lease, praise.
- letting, leaving.
- leueth, relieveth, also taketh leave.
- lemes, b. flames, light.
- lectorne, a desk.
- legging, d. lodging.
- letest fare, b. makest shew.
- leuesell, a bush.
- lere, complexion, colour, skin.
- letargi, g. a drousie disease causing forgetfulness.
- lest, lust.
- * Litarge, f. white lead; The Composition whereof, as I find it in an old written book, is thus: Accipiter plumbum, & funditur in olla, & projiciuntur interius testae alterius ollae, & postea moveatur olla fortiori manu, quous (que) commisceantur testae & plumbum, praeterea projiciatur illud totum, & illud est litargirum: hoc modo preparatur plumbum ad plumbaciones ollarum.
- ligne aloes, a bitter kind of wood out of India and Arabia.
- licand, b. in good plite.
- limitation, i. circuit.
- liard, b. nimble.
- lich, lech, b. like.
- limaile, i. dust that cometh of filing.
- light, to make light.
- lith, lieth.
- lisse, f. end, limit, border.
- lisse, lees, release.
- lisse, b. ease.
- ligne, f. line.
- lith, (membrum) a lim.
- lifthalfe, b. left side.
- lith, lieth, also plain.
- liege, lege, f. lawful, true.
- lignes, liketh, yieldeth.
- litherly, b. slothful.
- liggen, b. lie.
- liart, b. gentle, lithe, smooth.
- liuen, b. beleeve.
- lithi, lethy, b. soft gentle.
- lissed, f. bounded.
- lisse, to have less, to wax less.
- lieges, f. subjects.
- lithe, b. to ease.
- lorrell, (lurco) devourer.
- lombes, lambs.
- loos, lose, f. praise, also order.
- lossell, d. crafty fellow.
- louedaies, arbitrements.
- loppe, b. a spider.
- lodemanage, skill of Navigation by stone and needle.
- lollar, b. a breaker of fasting days.
- louke, a fellow receiver.
- lorco, a devourer, a gulligut.
- Loi, Dunstan, Iulian, Runian, and what they were, may be known in the Legend, Festival, and Votaries.
- louting, b. kneeling, honouring.
- longen, belong.
- lore, b. learning, knowledge.
- lorne, b. lost.
- losenger, f. flatterer or lier.
- londles, b. runnagates.
- loute, b. to bow or bend.
- lozenge, f. square.
- losengeri, f. flattery.
- loteby, companion, or love.
- loth, b. lothed.
- losenges, f. square figures.
- lore, b. lost.
- loode, led.
- losenge, f. square.
- lostheld, accompted lost.
- lodesmen, b. guides.
- lore, (ratio) regard, doctrine.
- low, fire, flame: also to allow, or like.
- lordeth, ruleth.
- lucerne, l. candel.
- lugge, b. pull.
- lushbrough, a base Coin in the days of Edward the Third.
- * Magicke, He meaneth this Physician was skilful in Astrology, and could make his election of fortunate hours, wherein to minister his Potions to his Patient; and likewise that he was practised in Magick natural, as in making of Sigils or Characters stamped in Metal in their due times, fitted to that sign that governed that part of the Body, wherein the Malady was; as the stamp of Aries for the disease in the Head, and of Leo for the Reins, &c. Hereof he speaketh in the third Book of Fame. And Clerkes eke which conne wellAll this Magick naturell,That craftely doe her entents,To maken in certaine ascendentsImages lo, through which MagickeThey make a man be whole and sicke.
- * Martes marke, A Skar or Cut which the Children born in his Regiment have, and that in some part of their face: but this good Wife of Bath will needs have two; one for the Character of her principal Planet, and the other, &c.
- maintenance, threatning.
- masteling, shining.
- mazeline, a mazer.
- manace, f. threaten.
- maladie, desease.
- make his beard, deceive him.
- malles, b. hammers, betils.
- maumetri, b. worship of false Gods.
- martirdom, torment.
- maskewed, fensed, fortified.
- makeles, b. matchless.
- mate, d. daunted, tame, mad, pined, consumed.
- maugre, f. despite.
- martereth, i. dieth.
- marke of Adam, mankind.
- malison, b. a curse.
- malleable, b. abiding the hammer.
- marris, b. a fen.
- mailes, d. round rings.
- magonell, an instrument to cast stones.
- malt, b. melted.
- mansuete, l. gentle.
- maumet, mahumet, b. a toyl, bable, idol.
- mannish, (virago) b. stout.
- mauis, f. a bushel.
- make it, hinder it.
- maint, mingled.
- malt, melted.
- matire, f. matter.
- mani, g. madness.
- masday, b. holy day:
- maysondew, f. an hospital.
- malure, f. mischance.
- malebouch, f. wicked mouth.
- * Mercury crude, l. Quick-silver; for the killing whereof I read thus; Argentum vivum extinguitur cum forti admixtione salivae hominis, donec dispereat, & dico, quod si projeceris super ipsum aquam fluentem, si redierit ad primam dispositionem, [Page] non est extinctum: cum vere non redierit, bene est extinctum. Ipsum autem argentum vivum terra est.
- * Meritot, b. A sport used by Children by swinging themselves in bell-ropes, or such like, till they be giddy. In Latin it is called Oscillum, and is thus described by an old Writer: Oscillum est genus ludi, scilicet cum funis dependitur de trabe, in quo pueri & puellae sedentes impelluntur huc & illuc.
- metamorphoseos, g. a work written by Ovid of the Transmutation of things.
- merke, b. dark.
- meke, b. be gentle.
- mete, mote, b. must, might.
- medes, b. to boot.
- mede, b. reward, help.
- mesell, f. leper or lazerman.
- meint, b. mingled.
- met, dreamed.
- meridionall, l. of the South.
- mede, (hydromeli) d. honey and water sodden together.
- messagri, f. diligence in doing a message.
- mendicants, l. Beggars.
- mees, b. Meddows.
- mew, secret.
- mest, b. most.
- mete, deal, yield.
- methe, a kind of sweet drink.
- metten, dream.
- melite, power.
- megre, f. b. lean.
- * Minoresse, the right reading is moueresse, as we have now printed it; that is, a stirrer of debate: for so it is in the French Verses in the oldest written Copies. Sembla byen estre moueresse.
- ministralcie, any instrument of Musick, or Musick it self.
- miscreants, f. Infidels.
- misqueame, b. displease.
- missat, b. became not.
- mistaken, misused.
- misfill, miscarried.
- mirror, f. a glass.
- mistere, f. occupation, manner, fashion, service, strange thing: also need.
- mineth, l. threatneth.
- mistihede, darkness, mystery.
- mitches, f. manchets.
- misericorde, l. compassion.
- minge, b. mingle.
- mine, b. to entend: also to dig.
- misbode, wrong.
- minotaure, g. a monster, half a bull, and half a man.
- * Moses and King Salomon, Out of Josephus and Petrus Comestor magister historiarum, qui claruit, Anno 1260.
- moyson, f. ripeness.
- monest, l. admonish.
- mouch, b. to take up all.
- mourdant, i. the tongue of a buckle.
- mokell, mikell, b. much.
- mortresse, a meat made of boiled hens, crummed bread, yolks of eggs, and saffron, all boiled together.
- mokell, d. stature, making, bigness.
- modefie, l. moderate.
- mountaunce, quantity.
- mollock, b. earth, dung.
- mowen, (posse) be able.
- mormall, a canker:
- moniours, f. coiners.
- moeble, f. housholdstuff.
- mow, mon, b. might.
- mosell, mouth, snout.
- mowlen, b. wax mould.
- moten, d. must do.
- moile, a dish made of marrow and grated bread.
- morter, f. a lampe.
- mote, d. must go.
- molles, kistrels.
- momblishnes, d. talk.
- mue, moved.
- muet, f. silent.
- muckre, b. hoard up.
- musard, f. lingerer.
- mynting, labouring.
- Nadir, a. the point opposite to Zenith, or the point under the Horizon right under our feet.
- nakoners, i. (crotalum) cimbals.
- nas, was not.
- nart, art not.
- nad, had not.
- nale, b. the ale-house.
- narcotise, d. stupefactive, making senseless.
- nat wilne, not desire.
- nam, am not.
- name, d. took.
- nere, were not.
- nede, nedes, b. business.
- neighen, neigh, b. touch, to draw near.
- nest, b. next.
- neuen, neuin, b. name, named.
- nerfe, i. sinew, gristle.
- nedely, of necessity.
- nesh, b. tender.
- nere, untill, were it not.
- nempt, b. named, name, tell.
- nede, needed.
- nerthes, herdmen.
- nedes cost, of necessity.
- neders, adders.
- nice, nise, b. foolish.
- nicete, folly, curiosity.
- niterall, saltpeter.
- nigh, b. almost.
- nighen, draw near.
- nist, knew not.
- nil, will not.
- nigon, nigeon, f. dolt, niggard.
- nigges, b. niggards.
- nigh, near, to draw near.
- nightspell, b. a prayer against the night mare.
- nightertale, by night.
- nimphes, g. maidens of the sea.
- nowell, signifieth Deus nobiscum: and is taken for Christmas, & 20. or 30. days next before.
- nortelri, nurture.
- nore, f. comfort, nourishing.
- note, a Saint called Neotes.
- nones, b. condition, purpose.
- nori, i. nurse.
- nost, knowest.
- nome, taken, nummed.
- nowth, now.
- note, business.
- Obay, abide.
- obseruaunce, l. honour.
- obstacles, l. letts.
- occision, l. murther.
- occisier, l. murderer.
- octogami, g. eight times married.
- odible, l. hateful.
- offitorie, l. a song or lesson in the time of offring.
- oftsithes, b. sundry times.
- of plat then edge, of ease then grief.
- offrend, f. d. offring.
- onde, (halitus) b. breath: also fury.
- on hie, apace.
- oned, united.
- onis, once.
- on knew, d. one knee.
- on presse, adowne.
- openheed, bare-headed.
- orde, l. point.
- ordainor, d. governour.
- oratorie, l. a Temple, a Chappel.
- orisons, f. d. Prayers.
- * Ordall, Ordalia is a tryal of chastity, and other things by going over hot burning cultures of iron bare-footed, as did Emma, and Gunegond the Wife of Henry the fifteenth, Emperour of Romans, as writeth Cra [...]tius in his Chronicles of Almaine. This Ordall was used among the Saxons, and since the Conquest among the Normans: but in the time of King John it was taken away by the Court of Rome: [Page] And afterward in England by the authority of Henry the third.
- ordred, b. having taken orders of priesthood.
- (Orders fower.) The four orders of Friars were these:
- 1 Friars Minors or gray friers, Franciscans.
- 2 Friars preachers or blackfriars, Dominicanes.
- 3 Friars Carmelites, or white friars.
- 4 Friars Augustines.
- * Orfrayes, Aurifrisium, frisled cloth of gold, made and used in England both before and since the Conquest, worn both by the Clergy, and the Kings themselves, as may appear out of Matthew Paris, where he speaketh of the Ornaments sent by the Abbots of England to the Pope: And also by a Record in the Tower, where the King commandeth the Templers to deliver such Jewels, garments, and ornaments as they had of the Kings in keeping. Among the which he nameth Dalmaticum velatum de Orefreis: that is, a Damask garment garded with Orfrayes.
- orisont, g. the part of the firmament to us seen.
- orientall, bright, beautiful.
- orientall, i. bright.
- orpiment, the herb Orpin.
- orloge, f. g. a diall.
- ouch, b. a boss or button of gold: also a wedge of gold.
- ouerfret, spred.
- ouerthrowing, hast.
- outraie, depart, run.
- outrance, destruction.
- out take, except.
- owhere, any where.
- ownding, f. garding like waves.
- owndy, f. waving.
- owles, b. hooks, pinsars.
- * Palmers, A Pilgrim and a Palmer did differ thus: The Pilgrim had some dwelling place, the Palmer had none: the Pilgrim travelled to some certain place, the Palmer to all and not to any one: the Pilgrim might go at his own charge, the Palmer must profess wilful poverty: the Pilgrim might give over his profession, the Palmer must be constant until he had obtained the Palm; that is, victory over his ghostly enemies, and life by death.
- * Pasiphae, wife of Minos king of Creet, who having kept company with a bull, but rather as Festus saith, with a man called Taurus, brought forth Minotaurus, who was half a man and half a bull.
- palladium, g. the image of Pallas in Troy.
- pale, f. a spangle: also a robe of state.
- palastere, g. a combate.
- paie, b. robe.
- paine mane, f. white bread.
- paling, cutting in pains.
- pace, b. appease.
- (Palathi) Palathia in Anatolia.
- papelard, f. hypocrite.
- pankers, f. toyls to take deer.
- parage, f. parentage.
- patere, b. prate.
- partner, by parts.
- pan, b. brain.
- panter, f. a pitfall.
- pad, b. a bundel.
- parfay, f. verily.
- paynem, b. heathenish.
- paramors, f. lovers, pleasures.
- pardieux, f. verily.
- paplardi, f. hypocrisie.
- paraments, Robes of state, or the place where they are kept.
- par, for.
- pauade (pugio) a dagger or baslard.
- penon, f. a long streamer.
- perse, f. sky colour.
- pennes fele, many pence.
- pensell, d. a peece.
- perionet, a young pear tree.
- perry, f. precious stones, bravery with precious stones.
- pekois, a pickaxe.
- perturben, f. disturb.
- perriwrigh, embroidered with pearl.
- permagall, equal.
- peregrine, f. strange.
- peri, d. a pear tree.
- perpendicular, l. down right.
- * Peruise, f. A bar: and here it is understood of the conference called the Peruis amongst the young Counsellors, Pleaders, Attorneys, or Students of the Law, such as at this day might resemble the course in the houses of Court, or Chancery called mootes, and bolts: wherein the form of pleading and arguing a case is exercised: For so doth Fortescue in his 51. chapter of his Book, commending those laws, prove, when he saith: that after the Judges were risen at 11 of the clock from hearing of causes at Westminster, Placitantes tunc se divertunt ad pervisum, & alibi consulentes cum servientibus ad legem & aliis conciliariis suis.
- percell, f. partly.
- pert, l. manifest.
- perre, f. a monument erected for remembrance.
- peraunter, b. perchance.
- peregall, equal.
- pepire, (philtrum) i. Pharmacum amatorium, a drink causing love.
- pel, d. house, cell.
- pease, stay.
- pensell, d. banner.
- penible, f. painful.
- physiologus, g. any writer of natural Philosophy.
- pine, d. pity, sorrow, desire, pain, toyl: also a pit.
- pight, b. cast.
- pine, to rack, to pain:
- pinent, a pined creature:
- pined, pained.
- piment, (pigmentum) a drink of wine and hony.
- pilloure, f. a pillar, (columna.)
- pike, b. peep.
- pight, b. propped, struck, settled.
- pirate, a drink made of pears.
- pithonesse, g. a witch.
- plumtuous, fruitful.
- plumage, f. feathers.
- plat, b. flat.
- plagues, l. parts.
- plaine, b. to play, or sport.
- plenere, l. fully.
- plat then edge, ease then sorrow.
- platly, f. plainly.
- plight, f. turned, catched.
- pounced, cut: also pressed.
- porpheri, f. a marble mingled with red.
- possed, b. tossed.
- potent, f. a staff.
- portray, f. draw.
- popere, a bodkin.
- possede, l. succede.
- poste, i. power.
- pomell, f. round.
- poliue, f. a pulley:
- posteme, (struma) f. botch or wenn.
- porthose, a service book so called.
- pointell, f. a writing pin.
- powre, b. stare, look.
- powre, d. poor estate.
- powdred, embroidered.
- powder merchant, Alephanginae species: powders whereof ginger bread is made.
- [Page] poked, b. jogged.
- pole artike, g. a star called the North-pole.
- poinant, f. sharp.
- popelot, d. puppet or youngwench.
- porraile, base, beggarly.
- pomely grise, f. dapple-gray.
- polite, l. [...]loquent.
- pose, suppose.
- preueth, reproveth.
- pregnant, i. full, thick.
- prime, l. nine of the clock.
- pretious, i. fine, curious, of account.
- preuid, f. hardy.
- presse, d. subjection.
- prefect, l. a magistrate.
- prefer, l. excell.
- preue, a proof.
- presen, tread on.
- prill and poiten, goore and strike.
- prickesoure, a rank rider.
- pray, request.
- pry, f. pray.
- priket, a small wax-candle.
- prien, b. look.
- probatine pistant, l. g. the sheeps pool.
- processions, l. perambulations about the fields in the gang week.
- pronosticke, g. foretelling.
- predication, l. preaching.
- probleme, g. an hard question or riddle.
- prow, f. profit, power, honour.
- propheme, g. a preface.
- Pruce, Prussi [...], a Country by Almaine and Russie.
- pruce, of Prussia.
- Puella & Rubeus, The names of two figures in Geomancy, representing two Constellations in heaven. Puella signifieth Mars retrograde, and R [...] beus Mars direct.
- pugnant, l. pricking.
- purveiance, f. providence.
- purfled, garded, fringed.
- pullayle, f. wild-fowl, poultry.
- purfill, gard, or fringe.
- puruay, f. provide.
- purprise, f. enclosure, device.
- pusell, f. [...]amfel.
- pulchrit [...]de, l. beauty.
- putre, [...] whoredom.
- Quacke, b. daunt.
- quappe, b. quail, shake, stir.
- quaint gyres, b. strange fits.
- qualme, b. calmness.
- qualme, b. grief.
- quad, d bad.
- quarrels, arrow-heads.
- queem, quemen, b. please.
- quent, b. quenched, strange.
- querele, i. quarrel, complaint.
- quell, d. destroy, dash.
- quentise, curiosity.
- querror, f. stone-digger.
- quinible, a treble.
- quistron, f. beggar.
- Raa, b. a Roe.
- takestele, b. the rake-handle.
- tabiat, i. mad.
- rade vore, tapestry, loomework.
- rackell, d. hasty, to be hasty.
- racine, f. root.
- ranke, b. hoarse.
- rath, b. quickly.
- raught, went, reached.
- rauished, f. taken, overcome, carried.
- raffles, f. rifling.
- rathest, b. soonest.
- rape, d. hast.
- ramagious, f. wild.
- rape, l. quickly; also haste.
- ramage, f. wild.
- rauishing, f. a swift sway.
- raft, b. rent.
- ragounces,, a kind of pretious stone.
- raskayle, b. trash.
- rauish, f. to rob.
- rauenish, black.
- rayled, b. ran.
- rayes, songs, rondels.
- recreant, f. out of hope, untrusty.
- redowbting, praising, setting forth.
- renomie, f. good name, fame.
- rest, rose.
- reight, b. reached.
- retrograde, l. that goeth backward.
- renouelences, f. renewings.
- reniant, f. revolter.
- redeth, b. adviseth.
- red, b. the meaning.
- reuesten, f. to apparel.
- remuable, f. mutable, ready.
- reue, f. spoil, rob.
- renegate, a Christian turned Turk.
- renkes, b. ranks.
- resagor, ratsbane.
- rekelnesse, d. rashness.
- reines, fine cloth, of the place where it is made.
- redelesse, b. helpless.
- renouell, f. renew.
- rehete, b. promise.
- recketh, b. careth.
- refreide, f. refrain:
- renable, (mobilis) b. ready quick.
- rescous of our lay, defence of our Law.
- reare, (rarus) divided.
- regrate, f. lamentation, sorrowful sute.
- rew, b. take pity.
- rebecke, an old trot.
- reme, take away, deny.
- rethe, l. a net.
- rede, b. to advise.
- replication, l. reply, gainsaying.
- renouelen, f. newly return.
- reue, b. pull away.
- reuell, b. sport.
- recke, b. d. care.
- reuerse, f. contrary.
- refrete, f. full.
- redouting, setting forth.
- reioice, enjoy.
- renged, f. compassed.
- recreance, i. comfort.
- regali, i. princely power.
- repaire, issue, consequent.
- recure, b. recover.
- refraine, a stop.
- raigne, i. kingdom.
- remord, f. give remorse.
- rede, d. help, advise, speech, art▪ also to advise.
- refrroiden, f. cool, cease.
- releyes and lymers, f. standers at advantage with darts to kill the deer.
- realte, i. royalty.
- recreandise, f. infidelity, wanhope.
- ren, b. pull, get.
- recreance, f. beyond credit.
- refuit, i. help.
- reigne, l. kingdom.
- remew, f. remove.
- redowre, f. turning, doubling.
- reketh, b. smoaketh.
- retch, b. care.
- reuerberation, l. a striking back.
- ribaude, (leno) i. a bawd.
- ribyb, f. an old bawd.
- ribands, d. borders.
- ribaned, garded.
- rife, d. rifel.
- riddeled, checkred.
- ribibble, rebeck, f. a gittern, or fiddle.
- rining, b. dropping.
- rimpled, (rugatus) d. wrinkled.
- rise, f. beauty.
- riue, b. rend.
- riuen, d. thrust.
- riueling, turning in and out.
- reignous, f. ruinous.
- roket, a linnen garment.
- romer, b. wider.
- romed, b. walked.
- rone, b. rained.
- ronn, cease.
- roch, f. a rock.
- roile, b. d. range.
- romant, a brief history.
- * Rosamond. This Rosamond the fair Daughter of Walter [Page] Lord Clifford, was forced to be Concubine unto Henry the Second, who builded for her at Woodstock an house with a Labyrinth under the ground, much whereof at this day is to be seen: as also a goodly Bath or Well, called to this day Rosamonds Well. In the end she was poysoned by Queen Elianor, some write, and being dead, was buried at Godstow in an House of Nuns besides Oxford. Not long since, her Grave was digged, where some of her bones were found, and her teeth so white, (as the dwellers there report) that the Beholders did much wonder at them.
- rosary, a book so called.
- rosere, f. a roseplat.
- routhlesse, b. pitiless.
- row, b. angerly.
- roue, b. did rend.
- roune, b. to tell in the ear, to whisper.
- rowme, b. walking.
- roine, f. a skar.
- rosial, l. red.
- rowned, b. d. spoken softly.
- rowes, b. streiks.
- roundell, d. a kind of song.
- roggeth, joggeth.
- ronges, d. the sides of a ladder.
- rouken, d. lie snort.
- rowning, b. talking secretly, silence.
- roth, ruth, b. pity.
- row, d. rough.
- rowketh, b. lieth.
- rought, b. cared.
- rote, d. course.
- row, d. ugly, bloodily.
- rote, an instrument of Musick usual in Wales.
- rownsy, rownceuall, f. a great Jade.
- * Rubrick, In the Canon-Law the Arguments of every Chapter was written with red Letters, which was called the Rubrick, and the Text with black.
- rubicunde, l. red.
- rubifying, d. making red.
- rucking, d. lying snorting.
- rud, b. complexion.
- ruell bone, f. of the French word Riole, that is, diversly coloured: an Antistaecon in many words derived from another Language; as, in Law from Loy; and Roy from Rex.
- ru, b. lament.
- ruse, b. praise.
- Sarge, f. saycloth.
- salew, f. honour.
- sand, sending.
- saylors, f. dancers.
- sat me sore, touched me near.
- saturnade, swart, black.
- saw, b. speech.
- sat, became.
- salow, b. white.
- sawsefleame, red faced.
- sare, b. sore.
- sarlinish, a kind of Silk like Sarcenet.
- sawes, b. sayings, words.
- (Satali) A City in Anatolia, called sometime Atalia.
- sanguine, i. red.
- saleweth, f. saluteth.
- samet, f. Sattin.
- sabatons, souldiers boots.
- sance, f. without.
- saue, d. sage.
- sautri, b. an instrument like to an harp, but far more pleasant.
- sarpiesis, sachels, packs, or fardels.
- S. Iohn to borrow, with good speed.
- saine alse, seen also.
- sanatine, l. healing.
- saut, b. assault.
- sange, d. a song.
- saintwarie, (Asylum) a Priviledge-place.
- * Scholars hall, or University-Hall, founded by the Chancellor and Masters of the University, Anno 1326. but since united to the foundation of the Lady Elizabeth de Burgo, Countess of Clare, and called Clare-hall.
- schall, shall.
- scathlike, b. harmful.
- scrippe, a wallet.
- schoolelay, exhibition.
- scriuenish, subtilly.
- scantilone, a measure.
- scarceheed want.
- sciled, closed.
- scorning, changing.
- sees, b. seats.
- settels, grafts.
- setrone, bright, clear.
- sey, saw, seen.
- sewis, b. follow.
- seculer, l. a lay-man, worldly.
- senge, d. burn.
- seker, d. in like sort.
- secre, f. secret.
- seld, b. seldome.
- seinde, b. scorch.
- sele, f. seal.
- sey, seen.
- septentrion, l. the North.
- segge, d. say.
- semicope, l. a short cloak.
- sere, b. divers.
- septentrional, l. belonging to the North.
- seignory, f. power.
- senten, seut.
- sendall, a thin stuff like cypress.
- selinesse, felicity.
- sew, sown.
- sempt, b. seemed.
- seint, f. a girdle.
- semblable, b. like.
- sewing, placed.
- serment, f. an oath.
- sewen, sow.
- sentement, f. l. ones own device: also sense, feeling.
- set, f. becometh.
- sew, b. follow.
- sequedri, i. presumption.
- senged, b. scorched.
- sementing, fastening together.
- semed, thought.
- sewes, b. broths.
- sete, did sit.
- sered, pockets, burned clouts.
- sely, happy, also wonderful.
- seker, verily.
- sey, seen, saw.
- * Shildes, Shields, in French called Escus, are French crowns, wherein this Merchant did deal by return.
- shene, shining bright.
- shullen, b. shall.
- shenden, d. blame, to spoil, to marr.
- shede, depart.
- shewres, b. brunts.
- sherife, Reve, or Governour of the Shire.
- shendeth, b. hurteth.
- shaw, a shadow, a tuft of trees.
- shepen, b. simple, fearful.
- shetten, b. closed.
- shond, b. harm.
- shild, b. defend.
- shode, d. head, bush of hair.
- shoder, d. shoulder.
- shemering, d. glimmering.
- shoue, put.
- shete, b. shoot.
- shepens, sheep-coots.
- shore, d. a cleft.
- shift, bestow.
- shad, fell.
- shent, d. harmed, troubled.
- shright, b. crying out.
- shent, b. d. infected.
- showfe, b. put off.
- sib, b. d. a kin.
- sith, b. by and by; also, time.
- sitole, the sweet musick of the Dulcimer, called Sambuca.
- * Sign of the Lion, For then is Saturn in his Detriment, [Page] and in opposition to his own house.
- sie, sighe, seigh, b. saw.
- sike, sigh, also sick.
- sie, b. to see, to fall sideling.
- sigh, saugh, b. faw.
- sikerer, b. certainer, truer.
- sitwell, is meet.
- sithnesse, seeing that.
- simphony, g. musick.
- sikerly, b. truly.
- sider, a drink made of apples.
- sike, a sigh.
- signals, l. tokens.
- sile, banishment.
- sin, b. since.
- siker, d. sure I.
- sit, b. fitteth.
- sith, after.
- sithen, b. after.
- skaffant, an engine of war.
- skinketh, powreth out.
- skils, expositions.
- skath, b. harm.
- skilfull, reasonable.
- skleren, cover.
- skale, b. scab.
- skorchlith, scorcheth.
- skarmoch, d. skirmish.
- skere, b. fray.
- sleite, b. sleight, craft.
- slough, b. ditch.
- slittered, b. cut.
- slider, (labilis) d. slippery.
- sliding, faint.
- sleueles, b. vain.
- sli, b. a subtil fellow, wise.
- slough, forslow.
- slow, b. a sluggard.
- sliuer, b. a parcell.
- sio, b. kill.
- slough, b. killed.
- slite, b. rent, tere.
- sligh, b. coming.
- slew, slew.
- slaked, d. persed, loosed.
- slouthlich, slovenish.
- smart, quick.
- smert, grieved.
- smete, b. smitten.
- smoterlich, d. snoutfair, or painted.
- snewed, did snow.
- sownen, b. sound.
- soken, b. trade, dealing.
- sourd, f. rise, spring.
- sowned, b. ordained.
- sowke, b. spend, draw out.
- sowled, b. inspired.
- solein, l. only.
- sonnish, bright.
- souple, f. gentle, pliable.
- sotell, d. subtile.
- soigne, f. care, diligence.
- soother, b. truer.
- sophismes, g. subtilties.
- sonne or wete, dry or wet.
- sooth, b. truth.
- sond, sand.
- soote, d. sweet.
- solstitium, l. the stay of the sun, when he cannot go either higher or lower.
- sory, d. easie, soi [...], feeble.
- sours, f. spring.
- soft, quietly.
- sowne, b. speech, sound.
- soiour, f. dwelling, settling.
- soiourne, a journey, a tarrying, also to tarry.
- sowth sawes, b. true speeches.
- sowpen, b. sup.
- sowgh, b. sound.
- sonenesse, f. noise.
- sound, to heal, to be healed.
- soukle, d. wretched, poor.
- sow and plite, b. seal and fould.
- soget, subget, subject.
- sonitresse, hair shining as the sun.
- sond, b. will, mind, pleasure, commandment.
- sort, l. chance.
- spinge, i. sprinkle, intrude.
- splendent, l. bright.
- spray, sprig, or bow.
- speris, b. asketh.
- sperme, g. seed.
- sped, handled; also hasted.
- speces, l. parts.
- spiritueles, l. heavenly graces.
- spedefull, (efficax) earnest.
- spannew, b. very new.
- sperid, b. asked.
- sperd, b. shut up.
- splay, to spread.
- springowlds, b. young-men.
- sperkell, wandring.
- sparch, (bipennis) d. a double axe.
- spell, b. a tale, word.
- sphere, g. a figure in all parts equally round.
- spanishing, d. full breadth.
- spense, d. a buttery.
- sparth, a spear.
- squames, i. stales.
- squire, a carpenters rule.
- squireth, waiteth.
- Storke, This bird breedeth in the chimney tops of houses, and, as it is written of him, if the man or the wife commit adultery, he presently forsaketh the place. And as Aristotle saith, If his female play false, he will, if he can, kill her; or else utterly forsake her. Therefore Chaucer calleth him the wreker of adultery.
- stopen, stowped.
- stripe, strene, l. kindred.
- sterelich, d. earnestly.
- stondmeale, a little after, small, little.
- stad, b. combred.
- steds, d. places.
- stownd, b. suddenly.
- stole, i. a tipper.
- stenten, b. way.
- statu, i. picture.
- stout, d. stood.
- stound, b. d. time, course, moment.
- sterne, b. stiff, stout.
- stot, a young horse.
- stoure, b. skirmish.
- stith, b. an anvil.
- stere, b. make a motion.
- stele, d. an handle.
- stedship, d. staiedness.
- stremeden, d. gushed out.
- starke stoures, b. sharp assaults.
- stede, b. a gelding.
- stere, stern.
- sire, b. a straw.
- stamin, l. hemp.
- stered, b. dealt withal.
- stere, to make.
- stighed, d. ascended.
- strond, (tractus) d. banke, a coast, or region.
- staulketh, b. walketh, strideth.
- steuen, b. sound, time, meeting.
- stew, b. a small pond for fish.
- steuen, b. sound, also time.
- stall, d. set.
- stede, d. place.
- strake, b. to pass, to stride.
- stemed, b. gave out hear, or redness.
- sterne, to lay down.
- strepe, rob, strip.
- stownd ill, bad case.
- stownds, b. sorrows, dumps: also courses.
- steire, a sterne.
- starke, b. stiff.
- stereles, b. without sterne.
- straught, (extentus) b. stretched.
- sturte, strangle, scuffle.
- stames, (subergmen) l. warpe.
- subalter, and sept, the Streits betwen Spain and Barbary.
- sued, f. followed.
- surplus, d. remnant.
- surquidri, f. presumption.
- surpires, l. sighs, sobs.
- suckney, a white attire like a Rocher.
- superne, l. above.
- suspires, l. sighs.
- subliming, l. ascending.
- supprised, f. overcome.
- surquidous, l. presumptuous.
- surcote, a Gown with a Hood of the same.
- sursanure, (quasi súr sum sanatum) a sore festred inward, and whole without.
- sublimatory, a kind of still.
- superficie, l. the overmost part of any thing.
- [Page] supplien, f. make entreaty.
- supporaile, upholder.
- superlatife, l. highest.
- swyre, b. neck.
- swich, b. such.
- sweuen, a dream.
- swinker, a labourer.
- sawtry, f. dancing, instrumental musick, or the instrument.
- swilke, b. such.
- swolow, b. gulf.
- switch, b. quickly.
- swaine, b. a servant.
- swow, a sleep.
- swelt, b. sowned.
- swert, d. sun-burned, black.
- swough, b. sound.
- swith, b. swift, swiftly.
- swa, b. also, so.
- swelwen, b. devour.
- swonken, b. laboured.
- swoll, b. swelled.
- swegh (impetus) b. force.
- swelt, b. die.
- sykes, sighs.
- syker, b. assurance, steddy.
- sykerd, d. allied.
- sye, b. to fall.
- syth, b. afterward, times.
- Tabard, d. A Jacket or sleeveless Coat, worn in times past by Noblemen in the Wars, but now only by Heralds, and is called their Coat of Arms in service. It was the sign of an Inn in Southwark by London, within the which was the Lodging of the Abbot of Hyde by Winchester. This was the Hostelry where Chaucer and the other Pilgrims met together, and with Henry Baily their Host, accorded about the manner of their Journey to Canterbury. And whereas through time it had been much decaied, it was then by Mr. J. Preston, with the Abbots house thereto adjoyned, newly repaired, and with convenient Rooms much encreased, for the Receipt of many Guests. It is now the Sign of the Talbot.
- tapinage, f. secresie, slilyness.
- tailages,, toll, customs.
- tapes, b. strings.
- Taurs, & Mars therein, Taurus being properly Venus house, under the which Sign this woman was born, Mars then ruling in the same, prognosticateth great Incontinency.
- tackle, b. feather, arrow.
- taas, f. d. an heap.
- taboure, a drum.
- talages, payments.
- talagiers, tole-gatherers.
- tapite, d. tapestry.
- taling, d. telling tales.
- tacoy, to pluck to, or draw.
- tabouren, d. sound.
- targe, l. a target.
- tatch, tetch, b. craft.
- tatterwags, b. raggs, jaggs.
- tale, rayl.
- tane, b. take.
- talent, f. i. desire.
- tassed, b. tasselled.
- tassey, to aslay.
- testes, certain devices to try gold and silver.
- testeres, f. skulls, sallets.
- tene, b. sorrow.
- testifie, f. wild brained.
- teme, an Ingot of metal.
- teme, g. a text.
- termine, l. to end.
- terrestre, f. l. earthly.
- temen, lay, or bind.
- temps, f. l. time.
- tell no store, take no regard.
- tetch, b. a trick, a stain, frowardness.
- tenhaunce, set out.
- tewell, b. chimney.
- tercelet, d. Falco masculus.
- textuele, textele, l. skillful in the text.
- thrages, busie matters.
- Theophrast, In his Book De Frugalitate, else in his Treatise De Loquacitate mulierum.
- therout, without.
- threke, thrust.
- thirled, pierced.
- thence, catch, find, yet.
- thanks, acts, enterprises, labour, reward.
- thewes, qualities.
- thenne, thence.
- thilke, same.
- threpe, b. affirm.
- thare, there: also needeth.
- thirled, (jugulavit) strangled.
- thacked, b. beat, smote.
- thringing, thrusting, clustering together.
- throw, a short time.
- thriueth, b. springeth.
- tho, those, although.
- thascry, outcry.
- thorruke, an heap.
- thrilled, killed.
- thrope, d. a village.
- thankheeld, thank-worthy.
- theke, such.
- throw, anger, haste.
- threst, oppress.
- thre mot, the blast of an horn.
- then, although.
- thonke held, d. bestow labour or liking.
- thopposite, l. overagainst.
- tholed, b. suffred.
- thauentaile, coat of male.
- thringe, d. thrust.
- thedom, b. thriving.
- theich, plain, smooth.
- thore, before.
- threte, curse, threaten.
- timbesters, plaiers on sounding Instruments.
- tid, b. hapned, befallen.
- tiflers, triflers.
- tite, b. befalleth.
- tilleth, b. ploweth.
- tiren, tear, rent,
- tides, b. hapneth.
- tissu, f. a lace.
- told, took care, made accompt.
- tout, b. hole.
- * Tortuous, Tortuous the signs are, which are called Obliquae ascendentia: that is, all from Capricorn to Cancer. So he calleth the Ascendent unfortunate, because it is one of those signs, and had at the same time the Lord of that sign in his fall, which is in the Sign contrary to his exaltation.
- toteth, b. looketh:
- tone, b. claws.
- * Tolitane tables, Alphonsus tables to calculate the motion of the Planets for the meridian of Taledo.
- towell, tayle.
- torcencions, using extortion.
- toder, b. the other.
- tomblesters, tumblers.
- told no tale, took no care.
- tole, f. clout, toy.
- tournet, f. a tower.
- tort, i. extortion.
- torrets, rings, or the fastning of dogs Collars.
- totti, b. dizzie.
- totoler, prater.
- Tramissene, a City in Barbary, in the Province sometime called Mauritania Tingitana, or Caesariensis, as hath Melanghton.
- traue, b. a trevis to snoo a wild horse in.
- trate, trot, old drab.
- transcend, l. pass, exceed.
- trepeget, an Instrument to cast stones.
- trowen, to trust.
- trice, pull.
- trist, (meta) a mark.
- tressed, broided up.
- trentall, thirty masses.
- [Page] tresse, (funiculus) d. the broiding up of the hair.
- tretis, streight.
- trauers, f. overthwart, a curtain.
- trip, b. a piece.
- trew, truce.
- trausmew, i. change.
- trill, b. d. to turn, to drop.
- trenchant, f. bending: also sharp.
- trayle, f. an arbour.
- trist, l. b. sad: also to believe.
- trai [...]rie, f. treason.
- tregetor, a iugler.
- troce, d. wreath or wyth.
- tresses, hair, braids of hair.
- truandise, d. idleness.
- trete, handle.
- trects, streight.
- treget, deceit.
- trophe, i. victory.
- tulsurelike, f. tilekill-like.
- tull, lure, allure.
- twittel, b. a knife.
- twin, b. depart; also separate.
- twiereth, singeth.
- twy, d. two.
- twynned, b. parted.
- twight, b. pulled.
- twyn, to take away, to depart, to turn.
- twifold, d. double.
- twitten, b. carved out.
- twist, (ramus) b. a bow.
- twist, b. pinch, hold.
- twy, t [...]y, d. two.
- Valerie and Theophrast, Some will have us read Valery and his Paraphrast. This Valery wrote a Book De non ducenda uxore, with a Paraphrase upon it, which I have seen in the Study of Mr. Allen of Oxford, (a man of as rare Learning, as he is stored with rare Books.) His Name was Gualterus Maape, Arch-deacon of Oxford, in the days of King Henry the Second, but changed his Name, because he would not have the Author known, and termed it Valerius ad Rusinum. But yet there was one called Valerius, who wrote a Book of the same Argument, printed among St. Jerome's Works. And likewise one called Theophrastus Eresius, who among many things did write a Book, wherein he reasoneth, whether it be convenient for a wise man to marry. Johannes Sarisburiensis, in his Policraticon hath translated some things in this Book out of Greek and Latin, as may appear, lib. 8. cap. 11. De molestiis & oneribus Conjugiorum: out of which Chapter, Cha [...]cer hath taken much for this Argument, as may be seen in the Merchants Tale: but more in the Wife of Bath's Prologue, where between 30 and 40 Verses are translated from thence. And if the whole Work at this day were by some sufficient Scholar translated, it would deserve as much commendation as many Books, which learned men, not without great commendation, have heretofore translated.
- valence, i. cloth of Valencia in Spain.
- vapoured, l. ascended.
- vasselage, f. service, subjection.
- van, f. a fan.
- vauesoure, f. a Lord.
- Vernacle, a cloth or napkin, wherein was the figure of Christ's Face.
- vernage, i. sweet wine to be drank in Winter.
- vent, fore-part.
- verge, f. a garden.
- vermell, vermayle, f. red.
- ventosing, f. cupping.
- veiued, weved, put away.
- verre, f. glass.
- vechons, Hedghogs.
- vecke, i. an old woman.
- veneri, l. hunting.
- Vigils. It was the manner in times past, upon festival Evens, called Vigiliae, for Parishioners to meet in their Church-houses, or Church-yards, and there to have a drinking fit for the time. Here they used to end many quarrels between Neighbour and Neighbour. Hither came the Wives in comely manner, and they which were of the better sort had their Mantles carried with them, as well for shew, as to keep them from cold at the Table. These Mantles also many did use in the Church at morrow masses and other times.
- via Appia, l. an High-way or Causey from Rome to Campaigne.
- vinari enuermayled, f. vineyard made red.
- virelay, a kind of song.
- vite, l. a vine.
- vinolent, l. drunk, smelling of wine.
- visage it, f. face it out.
- viended, f. having plenty of flesh meat.
- vmple, b. fine lawn.
- vncouth, b. strange.
- vnselines, misfortune.
- vnderneme, excommunicate.
- vnpliten, b. make plain.
- vnwrie, uncover.
- vnderne, b. afternoon.
- vnneth, b. scarce.
- unberd, laid open.
- vnwist, b. unknown.
- vnyolden, b. not yielding.
- vndernome, felt.
- underspore, b. put under.
- vnset steuen, b. unappointed time.
- vnsounded, unhealen.
- vndermeles, b. afternoons.
- vnsely, unhappy.
- vnderfonge, take in hand.
- vnsperd, b. unlocked.
- vomes, f. foming.
- volunde, i. will.
- voluper, a kercher.
- volage, f. unconstant.
- voundstone, free stone.
- volatili, i. wild fowl.
- volage, l. pleasure.
- vpswale, (intumescebat) started, swelled up.
- vpplight, b. taken up.
- vphap, b. overcover.
- vrne, l. an earthen pot.
- vre, b. hap, chance, use.
- vrnes, l. pitchers.
- vttrance, f. extremity.
- Wastel bread, (libellus) fine Cymnel.
- wangs, b. (molares) great teeth.
- waltring, b. wallowing.
- waymenting, b. lamenting.
- waren, d. afflict.
- waget, warchet colour.
- warri, d. to make war.
- warne, assure.
- waiue, b. to turn fro.
- waite, b. mark.
- wardcorse, an overseer.
- wones, d. dwellings.
- waiued, removed.
- wanger, d. a male, or bouget.
- warren, d. grant, defend.
- Wades bote. Concerning Wade and his Boat, called Guingelot; as also his strange Exploits in the same. Because the matter is long and fabulous, I pass it over.
- Warriangles, be a kind of birds full of noise, and very ravenous, preying upon others, which when they have taken, [Page] they use to hang upon a thorn or prick, and tear them in pieces, and devour them. And the common Opinion is, That the thorn whereupon they thus fasten them and eat them, is afterward poisonsome. In Staffordshire and Shropshire the Name is common.
- warned, denied.
- wawes, b. waves.
- wate, b. know.
- warbles, werbles, notes of musick.
- walthsome, d. loathsome.
- waped, daunted.
- warenstored, defended.
- warnestore, fortifie.
- wantrust, b. mistrust.
- warish, save, deliver.
- warished, eased, delivered.
- ware, b. mark thou.
- wayled, b. changed, old.
- warison, reward.
- way, to guide.
- werds, guides.
- well, to spring.
- wenen wisely, b. thinketh verily.
- welken, b. the sky.
- wexen, wish.
- welden, to move.
- were, b. a doubt, a mase, also a place where Fishers lay their nets to take fish.
- wetten, b. know.
- werch, b. work.
- werkes, b. acheth.
- wenden, b. think.
- weldy, b. nimble.
- wene, a doubt, also wened.
- westerne, to draw west.
- werre, werry, b. curse, also destroy.
- werne, deny.
- wex, encrease.
- wend, b. thought, think, by guess,
- werried, d. banished, confounded.
- werth, deserving.
- wilnest, art willing.
- wene, b. thought, doubt.
- wemlesse, b. blameless.
- welmeth, d. riseth.
- went, (via) a way, a walk, a doubt.
- west, set at west.
- welkneth, d. dryeth, fainteth.
- wede, b. apparel.
- welt, b. ruled.
- welked, d. withered.
- wed, d. pledge, gage.
- westreth, setteth at west.
- werriest, b. curfest.
- wendest, b. goest.
- wete, b. knoweth.
- weld, b. hold, govern.
- weiue, b. forsake, reject.
- welked wyners, d. withered vine branches.
- wenden, b. think, knew.
- werne, b. forbid, put aside.
- wernings, denials.
- welde, b. to rule, also to find.
- welked, d. withered.
- welefull, b. wealthy.
- whilke, b. which.
- whele, round.
- Wine Ape, Vinum Apianum: that maketh one in such taking, that he cannot with a straw hit a broad fanne: the cause is, for that after the drinking thereof unmeasurably, one thing seemeth two to the eyes, as saith Juvenal: Geminis exurgit mensa lucernis. And Horace, Saltat Milonius, ut semel icto accessit fervor capiti, numerusque lucernis.
- wist, b. known.
- wisse, b. shew, make known: also wish, d. direct in truth.
- wisse, know, instruct.
- wile, b. deceit.
- witest, b. blamest.
- wis, b. verily.
- werred, oppressed.
- wight, b. weight; also swift.
- wisshe, d. washed.
- wisse, wise, to advise; also to wish.
- wight, b. swift, strong.
- wight, d. weight.
- wilneth, desireth.
- wissy, verily.
- wicke, bad, stinking, noysome; also counterfeit.
- wiche, an ark or chest.
- winsing, b. stirring.
- wisse, save themselves.
- wit, b. know.
- wite, d. white.
- wlate, d. loath, hate.
- woneden, d. dwell.
- wost, d. knowest.
- woned, b. wont, used; also dwelled.
- woddeth, b. waxeth mad.
- wone, won, store, plenty, remedy.
- wonning, d. dwelling.
- worth up, ascend.
- wone, store.
- wodshaw, woodside or shadow.
- wond, turn back.
- wonnen, b. conquered.
- wood, b. mad.
- wonneth, d. dwelleth.
- werker, wreker, d. (ultor) revenger.
- wonne, remedy, also wont.
- wound, bended together.
- worth, b. mounted.
- wrien, covered, change.
- wrath him, anger him.
- writheth, casteth off.
- wrenches, b. traps.
- wryeth, getteth.
- wrathed, moved to anger.
- wroth, sorrowful.
- wrale, b. bestow in brawling.
- wrecke, shipwrack.
- wro, grief, anger.
- wreken, d. revenge.
- wrekery, d. revenge.
- wroth, disagreeing.
- wrawnes, b. frowardness.
- wrigh, covered.
- wreme, to compass about.
- wrake, b. revenge.
- wright, b. a carpenter.
- wrech, d. revenge, wrath.
- wrene, wrine, cover.
- wry, to cover, to stir.
- wyerds, destinies.
- wyuer, a kind of serpent much like to a dragon.
- wythsit, withstand.
- wyshen, wash.
- wymple, d. a kercher.
- wythsay, b. deny.
- wynt, windeth, draweth.
- wynder, d. to cover, or trim.
- wyte, b. blame.
- wyntred, wringled.
- wynde, go.
- wynne, d. to complain.
- Yalt, b. goeth.
- yare, b. ready.
- yate, b. gate.
- yaue, regarded.
- ybet, b. made.
- ycast, left.
- yclenched, cross-barred, covered.
- ycoruen, cut.
- ycrased, broken.
- ydo, stayed.
- Yee knowe what I mean. An Aposiopesis often used by Chaucer; as that which he is said to have written with his Diamond sometime in glass-windows, expounded by his man Wat; which was thus:
- A married man, and yet, qd. Chaucer.
- A merry man, qd. Wa [...].
- He is a knave that wrote me that, qd. Chaucer.
- yerne, b. quickly; also loud, earnestly.
- yede, yeden, b. went.
- yfrounced, f. frowning.
- yfretten, devoured.
- [Page] yfere, b. together.
- yeats, b. gates.
- yelpe, b. prate, talk.
- yedding, (jurgandi) of brawling, (some say) of gadding up and down (others) of loud singing.
- yerning, b. profite.
- yerd, b. rod, or plague: also government.
- yerne, b. to desire, also to take grief, to deserve.
- yellow goulds, marigolds.
- yetten, lay up, gotten.
- yexing, b. sobbing.
- yfter this, even as.
- yhed, on hie.
- yhold, accounted.
- yif, and if.
- yle, (inanis) d. empty.
- ymeint, b. mingled.
- ynde, black.
- youe, gave, given.
- yode, b. went.
- yolden, b. yielded.
- yore, b. before, long, long ago.
- ypocras, Hipocrates Works.
- yqueint, b. quenched.
- yreken, b. raked.
- yren, displeasure, destrustion.
- ysaine, seen.
- ythee, b. thrive.
- ywrien, b. covered.
- Zenith, a. the point of the Firmament, directly over ones Head, wheresoever he be.
- Zephirus, g. the West wind.
- Zodiake, g. a Circle in Heaven, wherein are the twelve signs.
So much of the Latin in Chaucer translated, as is not by himself Englished
- AMOR vincit omnia, Love conquereth all things.
- A questio Juris, A question of the Law.
- Alma redemptoris Mater, O Mother of our Saviour.
- Ad adjuvandum me, To help me.
- Associat profugum Tideus, &c. The Arguments of the twelve Books of Statius.
- The first doth shew, that Tideus and Polimite are combined in Friendship.
- In the second Tideus's Message is taught, and the Treacheries disclosed.
- The third doth speak of Harmonia, and of Amphiaraus, who hid himself.
- The fourth setteth out the Battels of the seven Kings.
- The fifth noteth out the outrage of the Women of Lemnos, toucheth the Adder, and the Death of Archemorus.
- In the sixth, the games are declared.
- In the seventh, Amphiaraus the wise man is no more seen.
- In the eighth, Tideus, the stay of the Greeks, is slain.
- In the ninth, Hippomedon and Parthenope die.
- In the tenth Capan [...]us in scaling the Walls is slain.
- In the eleventh, Etteocles and Polynice kill one another.
- The twelfth setteth out, Adrastus their hard case bewailing, and Thebes burning.
- Benedicite, Praise ye.
- Benedictus, Blessed.
- Cor meum eructavit, My heart hath belched out.
- Consummatum est, It is finished.
- Cum iniquis deputatus est, He was reckoned among the wicked.
- Consumere me vis? Wilt thou destroy me?
- Cur me dereliquisti? Why hast thou forsaken me?
- Coeli enarram, The Heavens declare.
- Corpus Domini, The Lords Body.
- De septem peccatis mortalibus, Of the seven deadly Sins.
- De Invidia, Of Envy.
- De Ira, Of Anger.
- De Accidia, Of Accidy.
- De Avaritia, Of Covetousness.
- De Luxuria, Of Letchery.
- Dolorum meum, My Grief.
- Domine Laba, &c. O Lord open my Lips.
- Domine Dominus noster, O Lord our God.
- Domine est Terra, The Earth is the Lords.
- Dominus regnavit, The Lord is King.
- Explicit secunda pars poenitentiae, & sequitur pars tertia.
Here endeth the second part of Repentance, and here followeth the third - Fuerunt mihi Lachrimae me in Desert [...] Panes Die ac nocte, My Tears were my Bread in the Wilderness Day and Night.
- Faciem tuam abscondis, Dost thou hide thy Face.
- Jesus Nazarenus, Jesus of Nazareth.
- Iras [...]imini &: nolite peccare, Be angry, but sin not.
- In nomine Jesu, In the Name of Jesus.
- In manus [...]uas, Into thy hands.
- Jube Domine, Command Lord.
- Jubilate, Rejoyce.
- Ignotum per ignotius, One Obscurity, by a more Obscurity.
- Libera me, Save me.
- Laudate, Praise ye.
- Mulier est Hominis Confusio, A Woman is Mans Destruction.
- Non est Dolor sicut Dolor meus, There is no Grief like to mine.
- Non est aliud Nomen sub Coelo, &c. There is no other Name under Heaven.
- O admirabile, O wonderful.
- O Deus, Deus meus, O God, my God.
- Pone me juxta te, Set me by thee.
- Qui Gladio percutit, He that striketh with the Sword.
- [Page] Quia tulerunt Dominum meum, Because they have taken away my Lord.
- Quid mali feci tibi? What harm have I done thee?
- Quia non est, qui consoletur me, Because there is none to comfort me.
- Quod dilexi multum, Because I love much.
- Quod sic repente praecipitas me, That thou doest so suddenly cast me down.
- Radix omnium malorum est Cupiditas, Covetousness is the root of all evil.
- Remedium contra Peccatum acidiae, An help against the sin of wanhope.
- Remedium contra Peccatum Avaritiae, An help against the Sin of Covetousness.
- Remedium contra Peccatum Luxuriae, An help against the Sin of Lechery.
- Sanctus Deus, Holy God.
- Sanctissimus, Most holy.
- Sequitur de Gula, Concerning Gluttony.
- Sequitur secunda pars Poenitentiae, Here followeth the second part of Repentance.
- Suspensus in Patibulo, Hung upon the Cross.
- Sed non respondes mihi, But thou dost not answer me.
- Sagittae tuae infixae sunt mihi, Thy Arrows have pierced me sore.
- Solum superest Sepulchrum, There only remaineth a Grave.
- Tanquam Cera liquescens, Like melting Wax.
- Tuam animam pertransibit Gladius, The Sword shall pierce thy Soul.
- Trahe me post te, Draw me after thee.
- Tu autem, And thou.
- Te Deum amoris, Thee the God of Love.
- Turpe lucrum, Filthy Gain:
- Vbi posuerunt eum? Where have they laid him?
- Velociter exaudi me, Speedily hear me.
- Venite, Come ye.
The French in Chaucer translated.
- A Moi, qui voy, To me which see.
- Bien moneste, Well admonished.
- Bien & loialement, Well and dutifully.
- C'est sans dire, &c. It is without saying, &c.
- Don vient la destinie, From whom cometh destiny.
- En diu est, In God is.
- Entierement vostre, Yours wholly.
- Estreignes moy de coeur joyeux, Strain me with a joyful heart.
- Et je scay bien, que ce n'est pas mon tort, And I know well that it is not my hurt.
- Jay tout perdu mon temps, & mon labeur, I have altogether lost my Time and Labour.
- Jay en vous toute ma fiance, I repose all my trust in you.
- Je vouldray, I will.
- Je vous dy, I say to you.
- Je vous dy sans doute, I say to you without doubt.
- La belle dame sans mercy, The fair Lady without mercy.
- L'ardant espoir en mon coeur point est mort, d'avoir l'amour de celle, que je desire, The earnest hope within my heart is not dead, to have the love of her whom I desire.
- Meulx un, One best in heart.
- Onques puis leuer, I can never rise.
- Or à mon coeur, Now to my Heart.
- Or à mon coeur ce qui vouloy, Now to my Heart that which I would.
- Pleures pour moy, s'il vou plaist amoreux, Weep for me if you please, lovely Lady.
- Plus ne pourroy, I can do no more.
- Qui est la, Who is there?
- Qui bien aime, tard oublie, He that loveth well is slow to forget.
- Sans ose je dire, Without, shall I be bold to say.
- Sans que jamais, &c. Without ever, &c.
- Sans ose je, ou diray? But dare I, or shall I say?
- Si douce est la marguerite, So sweet is the daisie.
- son & mon joly coeur endormi, Her lively Heart and mine fallen asleep.
- Soyes asseurè, Be ye assured.
- S [...]s la feville devers moy, Upon the Leaf towards me.
- Tant que je puis, As much as I can.
- Tant me fait mal departir de ma dame, It grieveth me so much to depart from my Lady.
- Vn sans changer, One without changing.
ADVERTISEMENT.
WHilst this Work was just finishing, we hapned to meet with a Manuscript, wherein we found the Conclusion of the Cook's Tale, and also of the Squires Tale, (which in the Printed Books are said to be lost, or never finish'd by the Author,) but coming so late to our hands, they could not be inserted in their proper places, therefore the Reader is desir'd to add them, as here directed.
The Argument to the Prologues.
THE Author, in these Prologues to his Canterbury Tales, doth describe the Reporters thereof for two causes: first, that the Reader, seeing the quality of the Person, may judge of his speech accordingly: wherein Chaucer hath most excellently kept that decorum, which Horace requireth in that behalf. Secondly, to shew, how that even in our Language, that may be performed for descriptions, which the Greek and Latine Poets in their Tongues have done at large. And surely this Poet, in the judgment of the best learned, is not inferiour to any of them in his descriptions, whether they be of Persons, Times, or Places. Under the Pilgrims, being a certain number, and all of differing Trades, he comprehendeth all the People of the Land, and the nature and disposition of them in those dayes; namely, given to devotion, rather of custom than of zeal. In the Tales is shewed the state of the Church, the Court, and Countrey, with such Art and cunning, that although none could deny himself to be touched, yet none durst complain that he was wronged. For the man, being of greater Learning than the most, and backed by the best in the Land, was rather admired and feared, than any way disgraced. Whoso shall read these his Works without prejudice, shall find that he was a man of rare Conceit and of great Reading.