| The ark of his artificial day hath ronne |
| The ferthe part, and half an houre and moore, |
| And though he were not depe ystert in loore, |
| 5 | He wiste it was the eightetethe day |
| Of Aprill, that is messager to May; |
| And saugh wel that the shadwe of every tree |
| Was in lengthe the same quantitee |
| That was the body erect that caused it. |
| 10 | And therefore by the shadwe he took his wit |
| That Phebus, which that shoon so clere and brighte, |
| Degrees was fyve and fourty clombe on highte, |
| And for that day, as in that latitude, |
| It was ten of the clokke, he gan conclude, |
| 15 | And sodeynly he plighte his horse aboute. |
| "Lordynges," quod he, "I warne yow, al this route, |
| The fourthe party of this day is gon. |
| Now for the love of God and of Seint John, |
| Leseth no tyme, as ferforth as ye may. |
| 20 | Lordynges, the tyme wasteth nyght and day, |
| And steleth from us, what pryvely slepynge, |
| And what thurgh necligence in oure wakynge, |
| As dooth the streem that turneth nevere agayn, |
| Descendynge from the mountaigne into playn. |
| 25 | Wel kan Senec and many a philosophre |
| Biwaillen tyme moore than gold in cofre; |
| For `Los of catel may recovered be, |
| But los of tyme shendeth us,' quod he. |
| It wol nat come agayn, withouten drede, |
| 30 | Nomoore than wole Malkynes maydenhede, |
| Whan she hath lost it in hir wantownesse. |
| Lat us nat mowlen thus in ydelnesse. |
| "Sire Man of Lawe," quod he, "so have ye blis, |
| Telle us a tale anon, as forward is. |
| 35 | Ye been submytted, thurgh youre free assent, |
| To stonden in this cas at my juggement. |
| Acquiteth yow now of youre biheeste; |
| Thanne have ye do youre devoir atte leeste." |
| "Hooste," quod he, "depardieux, ich assente; |
| 40 | To breke forward is nat myn entente. |
| Biheste is dette, and I wole holde fayn |
| Al my biheste, I kan no bettre sayn. |
| For swich lawe as a man yeveth another wight, |
| He sholde hymselven usen it, by right; |
| 45 | Thus wole oure text. But nathelees, certeyn, |
| I kan right now no thrifty tale seyn |
| That Chaucer, thogh he kan but lewedly |
| On metres and on rymyng craftily, |
| Hath seyd hem in swich Englissh as he kan |
| 50 | Of olde tyme, as knoweth many a man; |
| And if he have noght seyd hem, leve brother, |
| In o book, he hath seyd hem in another. |
| For he hath toold of loveris up and doun |
| Mo than Ovide made of mencioun |
| 55 | In his Episteles, that been ful olde. |
| What sholde I tellen hem, syn they been tolde? |
| "In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcione, |
| And sitthen hath he spoken of everichone, |
| Thise noble wyves and thise loveris eke. |
| 60 | Whoso that wole his large volume seke, |
| Cleped the Seintes Legende of Cupide, |
| Ther may he seen the large woundes wyde |
| Of Lucresse, and of Babilan Tesbee; |
| The swerd of Dido for the false Enee; |
| 65 | The tree of Phillis for hire Demophon; |
| The pleinte of Dianire and of Hermyon, |
| Of Adriane, and of Isiphilee -- |
| The bareyne yle stondynge in the see -- |
| The dreynte Leandre for his Erro; |
| 70 | The teeris of Eleyne, and eek the wo |
| Of Brixseyde, and of the, Ladomya; |
| The crueltee of the, queene Medea, |
| Thy litel children hangynge by the hals, |
| For thy Jason, that was of love so fals! |
| 75 | O Ypermystra, Penelopee, Alceste, |
| Youre wifhod he comendeth with the beste! |
| "But certeinly no word ne writeth he |
| Of thilke wikke ensample of Canacee, |
| That loved hir owene brother synfully -- |
| 80 | Of swiche cursed stories I sey fy! -- |
| Or ellis of Tyro Appollonius, |
| How that the cursed kyng Antiochus |
| Birafte his doghter of hir maydenhede, |
| That is so horrible a tale for to rede, |
| 85 | Whan he hir threw upon the pavement. |
| And therfore he, of ful avysement, |
| Nolde nevere write in none of his sermons |
| Of swiche unkynde abhomynacions, |
| Ne I wol noon reherce, if that I may. |
| 90 | "But of my tale how shal I doon this day? |
| Me were looth be likned, doutelees, |
| To Muses that men clepe Pierides -- |
| Methamorphosios woot what I mene; |
| But nathelees, I recche noght a bene |
| 95 | Though I come after hym with hawebake. |
| I speke in prose, and lat him rymes make." |
| And with that word he, with a sobre cheere, |
| Bigan his tale, as ye shal after heere. |
| |
| |
| O hateful harm, condicion of poverte! |
| 100 | With thurst, with coold, with hunger so confoundid! |
| To asken help thee shameth in thyn herte; |
| If thou noon aske, with nede artow so woundid |
| That verray nede unwrappeth al thy wounde hid! |
| Maugree thyn heed, thou most for indigence |
| 105 | Or stele, or begge, or borwe thy despence! |
| |
| Thow blamest Crist and seist ful bitterly |
| He mysdeparteth richesse temporal; |
| Thy neighebor thou wytest synfully, |
| And seist thou hast to lite and he hath al. |
| 110 | "Parfay," seistow, "somtyme he rekene shal, |
| Whan that his tayl shal brennen in the gleede, |
| For he noght helpeth needfulle in hir neede." |
| |
| Herkne what is the sentence of the wise: |
| "Bet is to dyen than have indigence"; |
| 115 | "Thy selve neighebor wol thee despise." |
| If thou be povre, farwel thy reverence! |
| Yet of the wise man take this sentence: |
| "Alle the dayes of povre men been wikke." |
| Be war, therfore, er thou come to that prikke! |
| |
| 120 | If thou be povre, thy brother hateth thee, |
| And alle thy freendes fleen from thee, allas! |
| O riche marchauntz, ful of wele been yee, |
| O noble, o prudent folk, as in this cas! |
| Youre bagges been nat fild with ambes as, |
| 125 | But with sys cynk, that renneth for youre chaunce; |
| At Cristemasse myrie may ye daunce! |
| |
| Ye seken lond and see for yowre wynnynges; |
| As wise folk ye knowen al th' estaat |
| Of regnes; ye been fadres of tidynges |
| 130 | And tales, bothe of pees and of debaat. |
| I were right now of tales desolaat, |
| Nere that a marchant, goon is many a yeere, |
| Me taughte a tale, which that ye shal heere. |
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