Chaucer Texts

eChaucer ¤ Chaucer in the Twenty-First Century

The Complaint of Chaucer to His Purse
To yow, my purse, and to noon other wight
Complayne I, for ye be my lady dere.
I am so sory, now that ye been lyght;
For certes but yf ye make me hevy chere,
5Me were as leef be layd upon my bere;
For which unto your mercy thus I crye,
Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye.
Now voucheth sauf this day or hyt be nyght
That I of yow the blisful soun may here
10Or see your colour lyk the sonne bryght
That of yelownesse hadde never pere.
Ye be my lyf, ye be myn hertes stere.
Quene of comfort and of good companye,
Beth hevy ageyn, or elles moot I dye.
15Now purse that ben to me my lyves lyght
And saveour as doun in this world here,
Out of this toune helpe me thurgh your myght,
Syn that ye wole nat ben my tresorere;
For I am shave as nye as any frere.
20But yet I pray unto your curtesye,
Beth hevy agen, or elles moot I dye.
Lenvoy de Chaucer
O conquerour of Brutes Albyon,
Which that by lyne and free eleccion
Been verray kyng, this song to yow I sende,
25And ye, that mowen alle oure harmes amende,
Have mynde upon my supplicacion.