Classic Poem

And, endid my compleinte in this manere,
Oon knockid at my chaumbre dore sore
And criede alowde, " Howe, Hoccleue, art þu here?
Open thi dore. Me thinketh ful gore
Sithen I the sy. What, man, for Goddis ore
Come oute, for this quarter I not the sy,
By ougt I woote": and oute to hym cam I

This man was my good frende of fern agoon,
þat I speke of, and þus he to me seide:
" Thomas, as thou me louest, telle anoon
What didist þou whanne I knockede and leide
So faste vppon þi dore?" And I obeide
Vnto his wil: " Come in", quod I, " and see"
And so he dide; he streit wente in wiþ me.

To my good frende not þougte I to make it queinte,
Ne my labour from him to hide or leine,
And rigt anoon I redde hym my compleinte,
And, that done, þus he seide: " Sin we tweine
Ben here, and no mo folke, for Goddis peine,
Thomas, suffre me speke and be not wrooth,
For the to offende were me full looth

" That I shal seie shal be of good entente.
Hast þou maad þis compleint forth to goo
Amonge þe peple?" " ge, frende, so I mente
What ellis?" " Nay, Thomas, war, do not so
If þou be wiis, of that matter ho
Reherse þou it not ne it awake
Kepe al that cloos for thin honours sake.

" Howe it stood with thee leide is al aslepe
Men han forgete it. It is oute of mynde
That þou touche therof I not ne kepe
Lat be, þat reede I, for I cannot finde
O man to speke of it. In as good a kinde
As þou hast stonde amonge men or this day
Stondist þou nowe." " A, nay," quod I, " nay, nay

" Thoug I be lewide I not so ferforthe dote.
I woote what men han seide and seien of me
Her wordis haue I not as git forgote.
But greet meruaile haue I of gow, that ge
No bet of my compleint avisid be,
Sithen, mafey, I not redde it vnto gow
So longe agoon, for it was but rigt now.

" If ge took hede, it maketh mencioun
That men of me speke in myn audience
Ful heuily. Of goure entencioun
I thanke gou, for of beneuolence,
Woote I ful wel, procedeþ goure sentence,
But certis, good frende, þat þing þat I heere,
Can I witnesse and vnto it refeere.

" And whereas that ge me counseile and rede
That for myn honour shulde I by no weie
Anyþing mynge or touche of my wildhede,
I vnto þat answere thus and seie:
Of Goddis strook howe so it peise or weie,
Ougt no man to þinke repreef or shame
His chastisinge hurtiþ no mannes name

" Anothir þing ther meueþ me also:
Sithen my seeknesse sprad was so wide
That men knewe wel howe it stood with me þo,
So wolde I nowe vppon þat othir side
Wist were howe oure lorde Ihesu, wich is gide
To all releef and may alle hertis cure,
Releued hath me sinful creature.

" Had I be for an homicide iknowe
Or an extorcioner or a robbour,
Or for a coin clipper as wide yblowe
As was my seeknesse, or a werriour
Agein þe feith, or a false maintenour
Of causes, þoug I had amendid me,
Hem to han mynged had ben nicete

" And whi? for þo proceden of freelte
Of man hymsilfe. He brewith alle þo
For siþen God to man goue hath liberte,
Wiche chese may for to do wel or no,
If he myschese he is his owene foo,
And to reherse his gilte wich him accusiþ,
Honour seith nay there he scilence excusip

" But this is al another caas, sothly.
This was the strook of God; he gaf me þis
And sithen he hath withdrawe it curteisly,
Am I not holden it out? O gis
But if God had þis þanke it were amis
In feith, frende, make I thenke an open shrifte,
And hide not what I had of his gifte.

" If that a leeche curid had me so —
As they lacken alle þat science and migt —
A name he shulde han had for eueremo,
What cure he had doon to so seek a wigt
And git my purs he wolde haue made ful ligt
But curteis Jhesu of his grace pacient
Axith not but of gilte amendement

" The benefice of God not hid be sholde
Sithen of myn heele he gaf me þe triacle,
It to confesse and þanke hym, am I holde,
For he in me hath shewid his miracle
His visitacioun is a spectacle
In wiche that I biholde may and se,
Bet þan I dide, howe greet a lord is he

" But, freend, amonge þe vicis þat rigt now
Rehercid I, oone of hem, dar I seie,
Hath hurte me sore, and I woote wel ynow
So hath it mo, wiche is feble moneie.
Manie a man þis day, but þei golde weie,
Of men not wole it take ne resceiue,
And if it lacke his peis þei wole it weiue.

" Howe may it holde his peis whanne it is wasshe
So that it lacke sumwhat in thiknese?
The false peple nothing hem abaisshe
To clippe it eke. It in brede and roundenesse
Is than it shulde be alweie the lesse.
The pore man amonge alle othir is
Ful sore anoied and greued in this

" If it be golde and hool that men him profre
For his laboure or his chaffre lent,
Take it if him list and putte it in his cofre,
For, waisshinge or clipping, holde him content
Or leue, he gete noon othir paiement.
It semeth but smal; othir is ther.
Trouþe is absent, but falsheed is not fer.

" Howe shal þe pore do if in his holde
No more moneie he ne haue at al
Par cas but a noble or halpenie of golde,
And it so thynne is and so narowe and smal
That men the eschaunge eschewen oueral?
Not wil it goo but miche he theronne leese
He moot do so, he may noon other chese

" I mysilfe in this caas ben haue, or this,
Wherfore I knowe it a greet dele þe bet.
He that in falsing of coyn gilty is,
Hath greet wronge þat he nere on þe gebet
It is pitee that he therfrom is let,
Sithen he therto hath so greet title and rigt
Regne, Iustice, and preue on him thi mygt

" Whanne I this wroot, many men dide amis
Thei weied gold, vnhad auctorite
No statute made was þanne as þat nowe is
But sithen gold to weie charged nowe ben we,
Resoun axeth þat it obeied be.
Nowe time it is vnto weigtes vs drawe,
Sithen that the parlement hath maad it a lawe.

" Yit othir shrewis doon a werse gyn,
And tho bene they þat þe coyn countirfete,
And thei that with golde, copir, clothe and tyn,
To make al seme golde, þei swinke and swete
In helle for to purchase hem a sete
If thidre lede hem her false couetise,
That purchas maad was in a fooltisch wise!

" What causith, trowen ge, all this mischaunce?
What coumforte gouen is to this vntrouþe?
In feith, men sein it is the maintinaunce
Of grete folke, wich is a greet harme and rouþe.
God graunte herafter that ther be no slouþe,
Of this tresoun punischement to do,
Rigt suche as that is partinent therto

" Thei þat consenten to that falsehede,
As wel as the werkers, wiþ peine egal
Punischid ougten be as þat I rede
Nowe, maintenours, biwar nowe of a fal
I speke of no persone in special
In countrees diuerse is ther many oon
Of gow, and hath be many a day agoon

" Allas, that to oure kingis preiudice
And harme to alle hise lege peple trewe,
Contynue shal þis foule and cursid vice
Of falsing of coyn, not bigonne of newe,
Wiche, and it forþe goo, many oon shal it rewe.
God and oure kyng remedie al this greef,
For to þe peple it is a foule mischeef.

" Bi comoun harme is not smal to sett
That venym ouere wide and brood spredith.
Greet merite were it suche þing stoppe and lett,
As þat the comoun into mischef leedith.
The vois of þe peple veniaunce on gow gredith,
Ge cursid men, ge false moneyours,
And on goure outereris and goure maintenours

" O this I drede alweie, this heuieþ me
Many a sithe, that punischement
Noon falle shal on this cursid meine.
Howe trewe so be her enditement,
Oure lige lorde shal be so innocent
That vnto him shall hid be þe notice.
Vnwaisshen gold shal waisshe awey þat vice.

" Enformed shal be his hie excellence
By menes, whom þat þe lady Moneye
Hath rowned with, and shewid euidence
In plate, þat al wronge is þat men seie
Of þat false folke. My soule dar I leie,
Tho meenes shullen haue no deffectif plate:
Her receit shal be good and fin algate

" Nowe in good feith I drede ther shal be
Suche multitude of þat false secte
Wiþynne þis twoo geere, or ellis thre,
But if þis stinking errour be correcte,
That so moche of this land shal be infecte
Therwiþ þat trouþe shal adoun be þrowe,
And that cursid falsheed it oueregrowe

" Lo, frende, nowe haue I myn entent vnreke.
Of my longe tale, displese gow nougt"
" Nay, Thomas, nay, but lat me to the speke.
Whanne þi compleinte was to the ende ybrougt,
Cam it ougt in þi purpos and þi thougt
Ougt ellis therwith to han maad þan that?"
" Ge, certein, frende." " O nowe, good Thomas, what?"

" Frende, þat I shal telle as blyue, ywys.
In Latyn haue I seen a smal tretice,
Wiche Lerne for to Die callid is.
A bettir restreint knowe I noon fro vice,
For whanne þat deeth shal man from hennes trice
But he þat lessoun lerned haue or thanne,
War that, for deeth comeþ woot þere no wigt whanne

" And that haue I purposid to translate,
If God his grace list therto me lene,
Siþen he of helþe hath opened me þe gate,
For where my soule is of vertu al lene,
And þorug my bodies gilte foule and vnclene,
To clense it sumwhat by translacioun
Of it shal be myn occupacioun

" For I not oonly but, as that I hope,
Many another wigt eke therby shal
His conscience tendirly groope,
And wiþ himsilfe acounte and recken of al
That he hath in this liif wrougt, greet or smal,
While he tyme hath, and freissh witt and vigour,
And not abide vnto his deeþis hour.

" Man may in þis tretiis hereaftirward,
If þat hym like rede and biholde,
Considre and see wel þat it is ful hard
Delaie acountis til liif bigynne to colde.
Shorte tyme is þanne of hise offensis oolde
To make a iust and trewe reckenynge
Sharpnesse of peine is therto greet hinderinge

" Not hath me stirid my deuocioun
To do this labour, ge shullen vnderstonde,
But at the excitinge and mocioun
Of a deuoute man, take I here on honde
This labour, and, as I can, wole I fonde
His reed, þourg Goddis grace, to parforme,
Thoug I be bare of intellecte and forme

" And whanne that endid is I neuere þinke
More in Englissh after be occupied
I may not labour as I dide, and swinke
My lust is not therto so wel applied
As it hath ben: it is ny mortified
Wherfore I cesse þinke, be þis doon
The nigt approcheþ. It is fer past noon

" Of age am I fifty wintir and three.
Ripenesse of deeth faste vppon me now hastiþ.
My lymes sumdel now vnweldy be;
Also my sigt appeiriþ faste, and wastiþ,
And my conceit adaies nowe not tastiþ
As it hath doon in geeris precedent.
Nowe al another is my sentement

" More am I heuy now vpon a day
Than I sumtyme was in dayes fyue
Thyng þat or this methoghte game and play
Is ernest now. The hony fro the hyue
Of my spirit withdrawith wondir blyue.
Whan al is doon, al this worldes swetnesse
At ende torneth into bittirnesse

" The fool, thurgh loue of this lyf present
Deceyued is, but the wys man woot weel
How ful this world of sorwe is, and torment,
Wherfore in it he trustith nat a deel
Thogh a man this day sitte hye on the wheel,
Tomorwe he may be tryced from his sete.
This hath be seen often among the grete.

" How fair thyng or how precious it be
þat in the world is, it is lyk a flour,
To whom nature yeuen hath beautee
Of fressh heewe and of ful plesant colour,
With soote smellynge also, and odour,
But, as soone as it is bicomen drye,
Farwel colour, and the smel gynneth dye.

" Rial might and eerthely magestee,
Welthe of the world, and longe and fair dayes,
Passen as dooth the shadwe of a tree
Whan deeth is come ther be no delayes.
The worldes trust is brotil at assayes.
The wyse men wel knowen this is sooth
They knowen what deceit to man it dooth.

" Lond, rente, catel, gold, honour, richesse,
þat for a tyme lent been to been ouris,
Forgo we shole sonner than we gesse
Paleises, maners, castels grete and touris
Shal vs bireft be by deeth þat ful sour is
Shee is the rogh besom which shal vs all
Sweepe out of this world, whan God list it fall.

" And syn þat shee shal of vs make an ende,
Holsum is hir haue ofte in remembrance,
Or shee hir messager seeknesse vs sende
Now, my freend so good, yeue yow good chaunce,
Is it nat good to make a purueance
Ageyn the comynge of þat messageer,
That we may stande in conscience cleer?"

" Yis, Thomas, yis, thow hast a good entente,
But thy werk hard is to parfourme, I dreede
Thy brayn, par cas, therto nat wole assente,
And wel thow woost, it moot assente neede
Or thow aboute brynge swich a deede
Now, in good feith, I rede as for the beste,
þat purpos caste out of thy myndes cheste

" Thy bisy studie aboute swich mateere
Hath causid thee to stirte into the plyt
That thow wer in, as fer as I can heere
And thogh thow deeme thow be therof qwyt,
Abyde, and thy purpos putte in respyt
Til þat right wel stablisshid be thy brayn,
And therto thanne I wole assente fayn.

" Thogh a strong fyr þat was in an herth late,
Withdrawen be and swept away ful cleene,
Yit aftirward, bothe the herth and plate
Been of the fyr warm, thogh no fyr be seene
There as þat it was, and right so I meene
Althogh past be the grete of thy seeknesse
Yit lurke in thee may sum of hir warmnesse."

" O what is yow, freend, benedicitee?
Right now, whan I yow redde my conpleynte,
Made it nat mynde it standith wel with me?
Myn herte with your speeche gynneth feynte
Shuld we be now al neewe to aqweynte,
þat han so wel aqweynted be ful yore?
What, han yee now lerned a neewe lore?

" Han yee lerned your freend for to mistruste,
And to his wordes yeue no credence?
If your frendshipe cancre so and ruste,
Sore wole it trouble myn innocence,
þat ay yow holden haue in existence
A verray freend Certes, sore am I greeued,
That yee nat leeue how God me hath releeued.

" Whoso nat leeueth what þat a man seith
Is signe þat he trustith him but lyte
A verray freend yeueth credence and feith
Vnto his freend, whatso he speke and wryte
Frendshipes lawe nat worth wer a myte
If þat vntrust vnto it wer annexid.
Vntrust hath many a wight ful sore vexid

" I with myseluen made foreward
Whan with the knotte of frendshipe I me knytte
Vnto yow, þat I neuere aftirward
Fro þat hy bond departe wolde, or flitte,
Which keepe I wole ay O, your wordes sitte
Ny to myn herte, and, thogh yee me nat loue,
My loue fro yow shal ther no wight shoue.

" Tullius seith þat frendshipe verray
Endurith euere, howso men it assaill
Frendshipe is noon to loue wel this day,
Or yeeres outhir, and aftirward faill
A freend to freend his peyne and his trauaill
Dooth ay, frendshipe to keepe and conserue
Til dethes strook þat bond asondir kerue.

" To this matir accordith Salomon —
Yee knowe it bet than I by many fold —
Ones freend, and holde euere thervpon
In your frendshipe wer a slipir hold
If it abate wolde and wexe cold
þat vnto now hath been bothe hoot and warm
To yow wer it repreef, and to me harm.

" If þat me list in this mateer dwelle,
And it along for to drawe and dilate,
Auctoritees an heep kowde I yow telle
Of frendshipe, but stynte I moot algate,
Or elles wole it be ful longe and late
Or I haue endid my purposid werk,
For feeble is my conceit, and dul and derk

" But as þat I seide eer, and sooth it is,
My sclendre wit feele I as sad and stable
As euere it was at any tyme or this,
Thankid be our lord Jhesu merciable."
" Yit, Thomas, herkne a word, and be souffrable,
And take nat my speeche in displesance.
In me shalt thow fynde no variance

" I am thy freend as þat I haue ay been,
And euere wole, doute it nat al,
But truste wel, it is but seelden seen
þat any wight þat caght hath swich a fal
As thy seeknesse was, þat aftir shal
Be of swich disposicioun and might
As he was erst, and so seith euery wight.

" Of studie was engendred thy seeknesse,
And þat was hard. Woldest now agayn
Entre into þat laborious bisynesse
Syn it thy mynde and eek thy wit had slayn?
Thy conceit is nat worth a payndemayn.
Let be, let be, bisye thee so no more,
Lest thee repente and reewe it ouer sore

" My reed procedith nat of froward wil,
But it is seid of verray freendlyhede,
For if so causid seeknesse on me fil
As dide on thee, right euene as I thee rede,
So wolde I do myself, it is no drede
And Salomon bit aftir conseil do,
And good is it conforme thee therto

" He þat hath ones in swich plyt yfall,
But he wol rule him may in slippen eft
This rede I thee, for aght þat may befall,
Syn þat seeknesse God hath thee byreft,
The cause eschue, for it is good left,
Namely, thyng of thoghtful studie kaght,
Perillous is, as þat hath me been taght.

" Right as a theef þat hath eschapid ones
The roop, no dreede hath eft his art to vse
Til þat the trees him weye vp, body and bones,
So looth is him his sory craft refuse,
Sa farest thow Ioie hastow for to muse
Vpon thy book, and therin stare and poure,
Til þat it thy wit consume and deuoure.

" I can no more. The latter errour
Wers is, rede I, than þat þat was beforn
The smert of studie oghte be mirour
To thee. Let yit thy studie be forborn
Haue of my wordes no desdeyn or scorn,
For þat I seye, of freendly tendrenesse
I seye it al, as wisly God me blesse

" If thee nat list vpon thyself to reewe,
Thomas, who shal reewe vpon thee, I preye?
Now do foorth, let see, and thyn harm reneewe,
And heuyer shal it peise and weye
Than it dide eer — therto my lyf I leye —
Whiche thee wolde ouermochil harme and greeue"
" Freend, as to þat, answer I shal by leeue.

" Whereas þat yee deemen of me, and trowe
That Y of studie my disese took —
Which conceit eek among the peple is sowe —
Trustith right wel, þat neuere studie in book
Was cause why my mynde me forsook,
But i[t] was causid of my long seeknesse,
And othirwyse nat in soothfastnesse

" And forthy neuere aftir this, preye Y yow,
Deemeth no more so, ne nat it mynge
That men kneew I had seeknesse is ynow
Thogh they make of the cause no serchynge,
Ther cometh but smal fruyt of swich deemynge
To yow told haue I treewely the cause
Now let vs stynten heer and make a pause.

" In this keepe I no replicaioun
It is nat worth; the labour is in veyn
Shal no stirynge or excitacioun
Lette me of this labour, in certeyn.
Trustith wel, this purpos is nat sodeyn
Vpon my wittes stithie hath it be bete
Many a day. Of this no lenger trete

" I haue a tyme resonable abide
Or that I thoghte in this laboure me,
And, al to preeue myself, I so dide.
A man in his conceit may serche and see
In v yeer what he do may, pardee,
And aftir þat take vpon him, and do,
Or leue Reson accordith heerto."

" O Thomas, holdist thow it a prudence
Reed weyue, and wirke aftir thyn owne wit?
Seide Y nat eer þat Salomons sentence
To do by reed and by conseil men bit?
And thow desdeynest for to folwen it.
What, art thow now presumptuous become,
And list nat of thy mis been vndirnome?"

" Nay freend, nat so, yee woot wel, elleswhere
Salomon bit, " Oon be thy conseillour
Among a ml " , and if þat yee were
As constant as yee han been or this hour,
By yow wolde I be red, but swich errour
In your conceit I feele now, sanz faille,
That in this cas yee can nat wel consaille.

" For, God woot, a blynd counseillour is he
Which þat conseille shal in a mateere,
If of a soothe him list nat lerned be,
And euene swich oon fynde I yow now heere
I pleynly told yow haue the maneere
How þat it with me standen hath, and stant,
But of your trust to meward be yee scant.

" Han yee aght herd of me in communynge
Wherthurgh yee oghten deeme of me amis?
Haue I nat seid reson, to your thynkynge?"
" Forsoothe, Thomas, to my conceit, yis,
But euere I am agast, and dreede this,
Thy wit is nat so mighty to susteene
That labour as thow thyself woldest weene."

" Freend, as to þat, he lyueth nat þat can
Knowe how it standith with another wight
So wel as himself. Althogh many a man
Take on him more than lyth in his might
To knowe, þat man is nat ruled right
þat so presumeth in his iugement
Beforn the doom, good wer auisament."

" Now, Thomas, by the feith I to God owe,
Had I nat taastid thee, as þat I now
Doon haue, it had been hard, maad me to trowe
The good plyt which I feele wel þat thow
Art in I woot wel thow art wel ynow,
Whatso men of thee ymagyne or clappe
Now haue I God, me thynkith, by the lappe.

" But al so hertly as I can or may,
Syn þat thow wilt to þat labour thee dresse,
I preye thee in al maneere way
Thy wittes to conserue in hir fresshnesse
Whan thow therto goost, take of hem the lesse.
To muse longe in an hard mateere
The wit of man abieth it ful deere."

" Freend, I nat medle of matires grete
Therto nat strecche may myn intellect.
I neuere yit was brent with studies hete
Let no man holde me therin suspect.
If I lightly nat cacche may th'effect
Of thyng in which laboure I me purpose,
Adieu my studie! Anoon my book I close.

" By stirtes, whan þat a fressh lust me takith,
Wole I me bisye now and now a lyte,
But whan þat my lust dullith and asslakith,
I stynte wole and no lenger wryte,
And, pardee, freend, þat may nat hyndre a myte,
As þat it seemeth to my symple auys
Iugeth yourself. Yee been prudent and wys."

" Sikir, Thomas, if thow do in swich wyse
As þat thow seist, I am ful wel content
þat thow vpon thee take þat empryse
Which þat thow hast purposed and yment
Vnto þat ende yeue Y myn assent
Go now therto, in Jhesu Crystes name,
And, as thow haast me seid, do thou þat same.

" I am seur þat thy disposicioun
Is swich þat thow maist more take on hoonde
Than I first wende in myn oppinioun
By many fold, thankid be Goddes soonde
Do foorth, in Goddes name, and nat ne woonde
To make and wryte what thyng þat thee list.
þat I nat eer kneew, now is to me wist.

" And of o thyng now wel I me remembre,
Why thow purposist in this book trauaille
I trowe þat in the monthe of Septembre
Now last, or nat fer from, it is no faille —
No force of the tyme: it shall nat auaille
To my mateer, ne it hyndre or lette —
Thow seidist of a book thow wer in dette.

" Vnto my lord þat now is lieutenant,
My lord of Gloucestre, is it nat so?"
" Yis, soothly, freend, and as by couenant
He sholde han had it many a day ago,
But seeknesse and vnlust and othir mo
Han be the causes of impediment."
" Thomas, than this book haast thow to him ment?"

" Yee sikir, freend, ful treewe is your deemynge
For him it is þat I this book shal make.
As blyue as þat I herde of his comynge
Fro France, I penne and ynke gan to take,
And my spirit I made to awake
þat longe lurkid hath in ydilnesse
For any swich labour or bisynesse

" But of sum othir thyng fayn trete I wolde,
My noble lordes herte with to glade,
As therto bownden am I deepe, and holde.
On swich mateer, by God þat me made,
Wolde I bestowe many a balade,
Wiste I what Good freend, telle on what is best
Me for to make, and folwe it am I prest.

" Next our lord lige, our kyng victorious,
In al this wyde world lord is ther noon
Vnto me so good ne so gracious,
And haath been swich yeeres ful many oon,
God yilde it him As sad as any stoon
His herte set is, and nat change can
Fro me, his humble seruant and his man.

" For him I thoghte han translated Vegece
Which tretith of the art of chiualrie,
But I see his knyghthode so encrece
þat nothyng my labour sholde edifie,
For he þat art wel can for the maistrie
Beyonde, he preeued hath his worthynesse,
And, among othre, Chirburgh to witnesse.

" This worthy prynce lay beforn þat hold,
Which was ful strong, at seege many a day,
And thens for to departe hath he nat wold,
But knyghtly ther abood vpon his pray
Til he by force it wan, it is no nay.
Duc Henri, þat so worthy was and good,
Folwith this prince as wel in deede as blood.

" Or he to Chirburgh cam in iourneyynge,
Of Constantyn he wan the cloos and yle,
For which laude and honur and hy preysynge
Rewarden him and qwyten him his whyle.
Thogh he beforn þat had a worthy style,
Yit of noble renoun is þat encrees.
He is a famous prince, doutelees.

" For to reherce or telle in special
Euery act þat his swerd in steel wroot there
And many a place elles — I woot nat al —
And thogh euery act come had to myn ere,
To e[x]presse hem my spirit wolde han fere
Lest I his thank par chaunce mighte abregge
Thurgh vnkonnynge if I hem sholde allegge.

" But this I seye, he callid is Humfrey
Conueniently, as þat it seemeth me,
For this conceit is in myn herte alwey:
Bataillous Mars in his natiuitee
Vnto þat name of verray specialtee
Titled him, makynge him therby promesse
þat strecche he sholde into hy worthynesse,

" For Humfrey as vnto myn intellect
" Man make I shal " , in Englissh is to seye,
And þat byheeste hath taken treewe effect
As the commune fame can bywreye.
Whoso his worthy knyghthode can weye
Duely in his conceites balaunce
Ynow hath wherof his renoun enhaunce.

" To cronicle his actes wer a good deede,
For they ensaumple mighte and encorage
Ful many a man for to taken heede
How for to gouerne hem in the vsage
Of armes It is a greet auauntage
A man before him to haue a mirour,
Therin to see the path vnto honour.

" O Lord, whan he cam to the seege of Roon
From Chirburgh, whethir fere or cowardyse
So ny the walles made him for to goon
Of the town as he dide? I nat souffyse
To telle yow in how knyghtly a wyse
He logged him ther, and how worthyly
He baar him What, he is al knyght, soothly.

" Now, good freend, shoue at the cart, I yow preye
What thyng may I make vnto his plesance?
Withouten your reed noot I what to seye"
" O, no, pardee, Thomas, o no, ascaunce."
" No, certein, freend, as now no cheuissance
Can I. Your conseil is to me holsum
As I truste in yow, mynystreth me sum."

" Wel, Thomas, trowest thow his hy noblesse
Nat rekke what mateere þat it be
þat thow shalt make of?" " No, freend, as I gesse,
So þat it be mateere of honestee"
" Thomas, and thanne I wole auyse me.
For whoso reed and conseil yeue shal,
May nat on heed foorth renne therwithal.

" And þat so noble a prince, namely,
So excellent, worthy and honurable
Shal haue, needith good auys, soothly,
þat it may be plesant and agreable
To his noblesse It is nat couenable
To wryte to a prince so famous
But it be good mateer and vertuous.

" Thow woost wel, who shal an hous edifie
Gooth nat therto withoute auisament
If he be wys, for with his mental ye
First is it seen, purposid, cast and ment,
How it shal wroght been, elles al is shent.
Certes, for the deffaute of good forsighte,
Mistyden thynges þat wel tyde mighte.

" This may been vnto thee in thy makynge
A good mirour. Thow wilt nat haaste, I trowe,
Vnto thy penne, and therwith wirke heedlynge,
Or thow auysed be wel and wel knowe
What thow shalt wryte. O, Thomas, many a throwe
Smertith the fool for lak of good auys,
But no wight hath it smerted þat is wys,

" For wel is he waar or he wryte or speke
What is to do or leue. Who by prudence
Rule him shal, nothyng shal out from him breke
Hastily ne of rakil negligence."
" Freend, þat is sooth. O now, your assistence
And help. What I shal make, I yow byseeche
In your wys conceit, serche yee and seeche."

He a long tyme in a studie stood,
And aftir þat thus tolde he his entente:
" Thomas, sauf bettre auys I holde it good,
Syn now the holy seson is of Lente,
In which it sit euery man him repente
Of his offense and of his wikkidnesse,
Be heuy of thy gilt, and the confesse,

" And satisfaccioun do thow for it.
Thow woost wel, on wommen greet wyt and lak
Ofte haast thow put Bewaar lest thow be qwyt
Thy wordes fille wolde a quarter sak
Which thow in whyt depeynted haast with blak
In hir repreef, mochil thyng haast thow write
That they nat foryeue haue ne foryite.

" Sumwhat now wryte in honour and preysynge
Of hem. So maist thow do correccioun
Sumdel of thyn offense and misberynge
Thow art cleene out of hir affeccioun.
Now syn it is in thyn eleccioun
Whethir thee list hir loue ageyn purchace
Or stonde as thow doost, out of loue and grace,

" Bewar, rede I: cheese the bettre part.
Truste wel, this women been fell and wyse.
Hem for to plese lyth greet craft and art.
Wher no fyr maad is, may no smoke aryse
But thow haast ofte, if thow thee wel auyse,
Maad smoky brondes: and for al þat gilt
Yit maist thow stonde in grace, if þat thow wilt.

" By buxum herte and by submissioun
To hir graces, yildinge thee coupable,
Thow pardon maist haue and remissioun,
And do vnto hem plesance greable.
To make partie art thow nothyng able
Humble thy goost, be nat sturdy of herte
Bettre than thow art han they maad to smerte.

" The Wyf of Bathe take I for auctrice
þat wommen han no ioie ne deyntee
þat men sholde vpon hem putte any vice.
I woot wel so, or lyk to þat, seith shee
By wordes writen, Thomas, yilde thee
Euene as thow by scripture hem haast offendid,
Right so, let it be by wrytynge amendid"

" Freend, thogh I do so, what lust or pleisir
Shal my lord haue in þat? Noon, thynkith me."
" Yis, Thomas, yis, his lust and his desir
Is, as it wel sit to his hy degree,
For his desport and mirthe, in honestee
With ladyes to haue daliance,
And this book wole he shewen hem par chance.

" And syn he thy good lord is, he be may
For thee swich mene þat the lightlyere.

Shuln they foryeue thee Putte in assay
My conseil. Let see, nat shal it thee dere
So wolde I doon if in thy plyt I were
Leye hond on thy breest if thow wilt so do
Or leue. I can no more seyn therto.

" But thogh to women thow thyn herte bowe,
Axynge hir graces with greet repentance
For thy giltes, thee wole I nat allowe
To take on thee swich rule and gouernance
As they thee rede wolde, for greuance
So greet ther folwe mighte of it, par cas,
That thow repente it sholdest ay, Thomas."

" Adam begyled was with Eeues reed,
And sikir so was shee by the serpent,
To whom God seide, " This womman thyn heed
Breke shal, for thurgh thyn enticement
Shee hath ybroken my commandement. "
Now, syn womman had of the feend swich might,
To breke a mannes heed it seemeth light.

" For why, let noon housbonde thynke it shame
Ne repreef vnto him, ne vilenye,
Thogh his wyf do to him þat selue same.
Hir reson axith haue of men maistrie
Thogh holy writ witnesse and testifie
Men sholde of hem han dominacioun,
It is the reuers in probacioun.

" Hange vp his hachet and sette him adoun,
For wommen wole assente in no maneere
Vnto þat poynt ne þat conclusioun"
" Thomas, how is it twixt thee and thy feere?"
" Wel, wel," quod I, " what list yow therof heere?
My wyf mighte haue hokir and greet desdeyn
If I sholde in swich cas pleye a soleyn."

" Now, Thomas, if thee list to lyue in ese,
Prolle aftir wommennes beneuolence.
Thogh it be dangerous, good is hem plese,
For hard is it to renne in hir offense
Whatso they seyn, take al in pacience
Bettre art thow nat than thy fadres before,
Thomas, han been. Be right wel waar therfore."

" Freend, hard it is wommen to greeue, I grante,
But what haue I agilt, for him þat dyde?
Nat haue I doon why, dar I me auante,
Out of wommennes graces slippe or slyde."
" Yis, Thomas, yis, in th'epistle of Cupyde
Thow haast of hem so largeliche said
That they been swart wrooth and ful euele apaid."

" Freend, doutelees sumwhat ther is therin
þat sowneth but right smal to hir honour,
But as to þat, now, for your fadir kyn,
Considereth, therof was I noon auctour
I nas in þat cas but a reportour
Of folkes tales As they seide, I wroot
I nat affermed it on hem, God woot.

" Whoso þat shal reherce a mannes sawe,
As þat he seith moot he seyn and nat varie,
For, and he do, he dooth ageyn the lawe.
Of trouthe. He may tho wordes nat contrarie
Whoso þat seith I am hir aduersarie
And dispreise hir condicions and port,
For þat I made of hem swich a report,

" He misauysed is, and eek to blame
Whan I it spak I spak conpleynyngly
I to hem thoghte no repreef ne shame
What world is this? How vndirstande am I?
Looke in the same book. What stikith by?
Whoso lookith aright therin may see
þat they me oghten haue in greet cheertee,

" And elles woot I neuere what is what
The book concludith for hem, is no nay,
Vertuously, my good freend, dooth it nat?"
" Thomas, I noot, for neuere it yit I say."
" No, freend?" " No, Thomas" " Wel trowe I, in fay,
For had yee red it fully to the ende,
Yee wolde seyn it is nat as yee wende.

" Thomas, how so it be, do as I seide
Syn it displesith hem, amendes make
If þat some of hem thee therof vpbreide,
Thow shalt be bisy ynow, I vndirtake,
Thy kut to keepe. Now I thee bytake
To God, for I moot needes fro thee weende
The loue and thank of wommen God thee seende.

" Among, I thynke thee for to visyte
Or þat thy book fully finisshid be,
For looth me wer thow sholdest aght wryte
Wherthurgh thow mightest gete any maugree,
And for þat cause I wole it ouersee
And, Thomas, now adieu and fareweel
Thow fynde me shalt also treewe as steel."

Whan he was goon, I in myn herte dredde
Stonde out of wommennes beneuolence,
And, to fulfill þat þat he me redde,
I shoop me do my peyne and diligence
To wynne hir loue by obedience.
Thogh I my wordes can nat wel portreye,
Lo, heer the fourme how I hem obeye.

My ladyes all, as wisly God me blesse,
Why þat yee meeued been can I nat knowe.
My gilt cam neuere yit to the ripnesse,
Although yee for your fo me deeme and trowe.
But I your freend be, byte me the crowe
I am al othir to yow than yee weene.
By my wrytynge hath it and shal be seene.

But nathelees, I lowly me submitte
To your bontees, as fer as they han place
In yow. Vnto me, wrecche, it may wel sitte
To axe pardoun thogh I nat trespace.
Leuer is me with pitous cheere and face
And meek spirit, do so than open werre
Yee make me, and me putte atte werre.

A tale eek which I in the Romayn deedis
Now late sy, in honur and plesance
Of yow, my ladyes, as I moot needis,
Or take my way for fer into France,
Thogh I nat shapen be to prike or prance,
Wole I translate and þat shal pourge, I hope,
My gilt as cleene as keuerchiefs dooth sope.