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Dame Avarice is noght soleine,
Which is of gold the Capiteine;
Bot of hir Court in sondri wise
After the Scole of hire aprise
Sche hath of Servantz manyon,

Hic tractat confessor super illa specie Auaricie, que Cupiditas dicitur, quam in amoris causa pertractans Amanti super hoc opponit.


Wherof that Covoitise is on;
Which goth the large world aboute,
To seche thavantages oute,
Wher that he mai the profit winne
To Avarice, and bringth it inne.
That on hald and that other draweth,
Ther is no day which hem bedaweth,
No mor the Sonne than the Mone,
Whan ther is eny thing to done,
And namely with Covoitise;
For he stant out of al assisse
Of resonable mannes fare.
Wher he pourposeth him to fare
2

Upon his lucre and his beyete,
The smale path, the large Strete,
The furlong and the longe Mile,
Al is bot on for thilke while:
And for that he is such on holde,
Dame Avarice him hath withholde,
As he which is the principal
Outward, for he is overal
A pourveour and an aspie.
For riht as of an hungri Pie
The storve bestes ben awaited,
Riht so is Covoitise afaited
To loke where he mai pourchace,
For be his wille he wolde embrace
Al that this wyde world beclippeth;
Bot evere he somwhat overhippeth,
That he ne mai noght al fulfille
The lustes of his gredi wille.
Bot where it falleth in a lond,
That Covoitise in myhti hond
Is set, it is ful hard to fiede;
For thanne he takth non other hiede,
Bot that he mai pourchace and gete,
His conscience hath al foryete,
And not what thing it mai amonte
That he schal afterward acompte.
Bote as the Luce in his degre
Of tho that lasse ben than he
The fisshes griedeli devoureth,
So that no water hem socoureth,
Riht so no lawe mai rescowe
Fro him that wol no riht allowe;
For wher that such on is of myht,
His will schal stonde in stede of riht.
Thus be the men destruid fulofte,
Til that the grete god alofte
Ayein so gret a covoitise
Redresce it in his oghne wise:
3

And in ensample of alle tho
I finde a tale write so,
The which, for it is good to liere,
Hierafterward thou schalt it hiere.
Whan Rome stod in noble plit,
Virgile, which was tho parfit,
A Mirour made of his clergie

Hic ponit exemplum contra magnates cupidos. Et narrat de Crasso Romanorum Imperatore, qui turrim, in qua speculum Virgilii Rome fixum extiterat, dolosa circumuentus cupiditate euertit; vnde non solum sui ipsius perdicionem, set tocius Ciuitatis intollerabile dampnum contingere causauit.


And sette it in the tounes ÿe
Of marbre on a piler withoute;
That thei be thritty Mile aboute
Be daie and ek also be nyhte
In that Mirour beholde myhte
Here enemys, if eny were,
With al here ordinance there,
Which thei ayein the Cite caste:
So that, whil thilke Mirour laste,
Ther was no lond which mihte achieve
With werre Rome forto grieve;
Wherof was gret envie tho.
And fell that ilke time so,
That Rome hadde werres stronge
Ayein Cartage, and stoden longe
The tuo Cites upon debat.
Cartage sih the stronge astat
Of Rome in thilke Mirour stonde,
And thoghte al prively to fonde
To overthrowe it be som wyle.
And Hanybal was thilke while
The Prince and ledere of Cartage,
Which hadde set al his corage
Upon knihthod in such a wise,
That he be worthi and be wise
And be non othre was conseiled,
Wherof the world is yit merveiled
Of the maistries that he wroghte
Upon the marches whiche he soghte.
4

And fell in thilke time also,
The king of Puile, which was tho,
Thoghte ayein Rome to rebelle,
And thus was take the querele,
Hou to destruie this Mirour.
Of Rome tho was Emperour
Crassus, which was so coveitous,
That he was evere desirous
Of gold to gete the pilage;
Wherof that Puile and ek Cartage
With Philosophres wise and grete
Begunne of this matiere trete,
And ate laste in this degre
Ther weren Philosophres thre,
To do this thing whiche undertoke,
And therupon thei with hem toke
A gret tresor of gold in cophres,
To Rome and thus these philisophres
Togedre in compainie wente,
Bot noman wiste what thei mente.
Whan thei to Rome come were,
So prively thei duelte there,
As thei that thoghten to deceive:
Was non that mihte of hem perceive,
Til thei in sondri stedes have
Here gold under the ground begrave
In tuo tresors, that to beholde
Thei scholden seme as thei were olde.
And so forth thanne upon a day
Al openly in good arai
To themperour thei hem presente,
And tolden it was here entente
To duellen under his servise.
And he hem axeth in what wise;
And thei him tolde in such a plit,
That ech of hem hadde a spirit,
The which slepende a nyht appiereth
5

And hem be sondri dremes lereth
After the world that hath betid.
Under the ground if oght be hid
Of old tresor at eny throwe,
They schull it in here swevenes knowe;
And upon this condicioun,
Thei sein, what gold under the toun
Of Rome is hid, thei wole it finde,
Ther scholde noght be left behinde,
Be so that he the halvendel
Hem grante, and he assenteth wel;
And thus cam sleighte forto duelle
With Covoitise, as I thee telle.
This Emperour bad redily
That thei be logged faste by
Where he his oghne body lay;
And whan it was amorwe day,
That on of hem seith that he mette
Wher he a goldhord scholde fette:
Wherof this Emperour was glad,
And therupon anon he bad
His Mynours forto go and myne,
And he himself of that covine
Goth forth withal, and at his hond
The tresor redi there he fond,
Where as thei seide it scholde be;
And who was thanne glad bot he?
Upon that other dai secounde
Thei have an other goldhord founde,
Which the seconde maister tok
Upon his swevene and undertok.
And thus the sothe experience
To themperour yaf such credence,
That al his trist and al his feith
So sikerliche on hem he leith,
Of that he fond him so relieved,
That thei ben parfitli believed,
As thogh thei were goddes thre.
Nou herkne the soutilete.
6

The thridde maister scholde mete,
Which, as thei seiden, was unmete
Above hem alle, and couthe most;
And he withoute noise or bost
Al priveli, so as he wolde,
Upon the morwe his swevene tolde
To themperour riht in his Ere,
And seide him that he wiste where
A tresor was so plentivous
Of gold and ek so precious
Of jeueals and of riche stones,
That unto alle hise hors at ones
It were a charge sufficant.
This lord upon this covenant
Was glad, and axeth where it was.
The maister seide, under the glas,
And tolde him eke, as for the Myn
He wolde ordeigne such engin,
That thei the werk schull undersette
With Tymber, that withoute lette
Men mai the tresor saufli delve,
So that the Mirour be himselve
Withoute empeirement schal stonde:
And this the maister upon honde
Hath undertake in alle weie.
This lord, which hadde his wit aweie
And was with Covoitise blent,
Anon therto yaf his assent;
And thus they myne forth withal,
The timber set up overal,
Wherof the Piler stod upriht;
Til it befell upon a nyht
These clerkes, whan thei were war
Hou that the timber only bar
The Piler, wher the Mirour stod,—
Here sleihte noman understod,—
Thei go be nyhte unto the Myne
7

With pich, with soulphre and with rosine,
And whan the Cite was a slepe,
A wylde fyr into the depe
They caste among the timberwerk,
And so forth, whil the nyht was derk,
Desguised in a povere arai
Thei passeden the toun er dai.
And whan thei come upon an hell,
Thei sihen how the Mirour fell,
Wherof thei maden joie ynowh,
And ech of hem with other lowh,
And seiden, ‘Lo, what coveitise
Mai do with hem that be noght wise!’
And that was proved afterward,
For every lond, to Romeward
Which hadde be soubgit tofore,
Whan this Mirour was so forlore
And thei the wonder herde seie,
Anon begunne desobeie
With werres upon every side;
And thus hath Rome lost his pride
And was defouled overal.
For this I finde of Hanybal,
That he of Romeins in a dai,
Whan he hem fond out of arai,
So gret a multitude slowh,
That of goldringes, whiche he drowh
Of gentil handes that ben dede,
Buisshelles fulle thre, I rede,
He felde, and made a bregge also,
That he mihte over Tibre go
Upon the corps that dede were
Of the Romeins, whiche he slowh there.
Bot now to speke of the juise,
The which after the covoitise
Was take upon this Emperour,
For he destruide the Mirour;
8

It is a wonder forto hiere.
The Romeins maden a chaiere
And sette here Emperour therinne,
And seiden, for he wolde winne
Of gold the superfluite,
Of gold he scholde such plente
Receive, til he seide Ho:
And with gold, which thei hadden tho
Buillende hot withinne a panne,
Into his Mouth thei poure thanne.
And thus the thurst of gold was queynt,
With gold which hadde ben atteignt.
Confessor.
Wherof, mi Sone, thou miht hiere,
Whan Covoitise hath lost the stiere
Of resonable governance
Ther falleth ofte gret vengance.
For ther mai be no worse thing
Than Covoitise aboute a king:
If it in his persone be,
It doth the more adversite;
And if it in his conseil stonde,
It bringth alday meschief to honde
Of commun harm; and if it growe
Withinne his court, it wol be knowe,
For thanne schal the king be piled.
The man which hath hise londes tiled,
Awaiteth noght more redily
The Hervest, than thei gredily
Ne maken thanne warde and wacche,
Wher thei the profit mihten cacche:
And yit fulofte it falleth so,
As men mai sen among hem tho,
That he which most coveiteth faste
Hath lest avantage ate laste.
For whan fortune is therayein,
Thogh he coveite, it is in vein;
The happes be noght alle liche,
On is mad povere, an other riche,
The court to some doth profit,
9

And some ben evere in o plit;
And yit thei bothe aliche sore
Coveite, bot fortune is more
Unto that o part favorable.
And thogh it be noght resonable,
This thing a man mai sen alday,
Wherof that I thee telle may
A fair ensample in remembrance,
Hou every man mot take his chance
Or of richesse or of poverte.
Hou so it stonde of the decerte,
Hier is noght every thing aquit,
For ofte a man mai se this yit,
That who best doth, lest thonk schal have;
It helpeth noght the world to crave,
Which out of reule and of mesure
Hath evere stonde in aventure
Als wel in Court as elles where:
And hou in olde daies there
It stod, so as the thinges felle,
I thenke a tale forto telle.

In a Cronique this I rede.
Aboute a king, as moste nede,
Ther was of knyhtes and squiers

Hic ponit Confessor exemplum contra illos, qui in domibus Regum seruientes, pro eo quod ipsi secundum eorum cupiditatem promoti non existunt, de regio seruicio quamuis in eorum defectu indiscrete murmurant.


Gret route, and ek of Officers:
Some of long time him hadden served,
And thoghten that thei have deserved
Avancement, and gon withoute;
And some also ben of the route
That comen bot a while agon,
And thei avanced were anon.
These olde men upon this thing,
So as thei dorste, ayein the king
Among hemself compleignen ofte:
Bot ther is nothing seid so softe,
That it ne comth out ate laste;
The king it wiste, and als so faste,
10

As he which was of hih Prudence,
He schop therfore an evidence
Of hem that pleignen in that cas,
To knowe in whos defalte it was.
And al withinne his oghne entente,
That noman wiste what it mente,
Anon he let tuo cofres make
Of o semblance and of o make,
So lich that no lif thilke throwe
That on mai fro that other knowe:
Thei were into his chambre broght,
Bot noman wot why thei be wroght,
And natheles the king hath bede
That thei be set in prive stede.
As he that was of wisdom slih,
Whan he therto his time sih,
Al prively, that non it wiste,
Hise oghne hondes that o kiste
Of fin gold and of fin perrie,
The which out of his tresorie
Was take, anon he felde full;
That other cofre of straw and mull
With Stones meind he felde also.
Thus be thei fulle bothe tuo,
So that erliche upon a day
He bad withinne, ther he lay,
Ther scholde be tofore his bed
A bord upset and faire spred;
And thanne he let the cofres fette,
Upon the bord and dede hem sette.
He knew the names wel of tho,
The whiche ayein him grucche so,
Bothe of his chambre and of his halle,
Anon and sende for hem alle,
And seide to hem in this wise:
‘Ther schal noman his happ despise;
I wot wel ye have longe served,
And god wot what ye have deserved:
Bot if it is along on me
11

Of that ye unavanced be,
Or elles it be long on you,
The sothe schal be proved nou,
To stoppe with youre evele word.
Lo hier tuo cofres on the bord:
Ches which you list of bothe tuo;
And witeth wel that on of tho
Is with tresor so full begon,
That if ye happe therupon,
Ye schull be riche men for evere.
Now ches and tak which you is levere:
Bot be wel war, er that ye take;
For of that on I undertake
Ther is no maner good therinne,
Wherof ye mihten profit winne.
Now goth togedre of on assent
And taketh youre avisement,
For bot I you this dai avance,
It stant upon youre oghne chance
Al only in defalte of grace:
So schal be schewed in this place
Upon you alle wel afyn,
That no defalte schal be myn.’
Thei knelen alle and with o vois
The king thei thonken of this chois:
And after that thei up arise,
And gon aside and hem avise,
And ate laste thei acorde;
Wherof her tale to recorde,
To what issue thei be falle,
A kniht schal speke for hem alle.
He kneleth doun unto the king,
And seith that thei upon this thing,
Or forto winne or forto lese,
Ben alle avised forto chese.
Tho tok this kniht a yerde on honde,
And goth there as the cofres stonde,
And with assent of everichon
12

He leith his yerde upon that on,
And seith the king hou thilke same
Thei chese in reguerdoun be name,
And preith him that thei mote it have.
The king, which wolde his honour save,
Whan he hath herd the commun vois,
Hath granted hem here oghne chois
And tok hem therupon the keie.
Bot for he wolde it were seie
What good thei have, as thei suppose,
He bad anon the cofre unclose,
Which was fulfild with straw and stones:
Thus be thei served al at ones.
This king thanne in the same stede
Anon that other cofre undede,
Where as thei sihen gret richesse,
Wel more than thei couthen gesse.
‘Lo,’ seith the king, ‘nou mai ye se
That ther is no defalte in me;
Forthi miself I wole aquyte,
And bereth ye youre oghne wyte
Of that fortune hath you refused.’
Thus was this wise king excused,
And thei lefte of here evele speche
And mercy of here king beseche.
Somdiel to this matiere lik
I finde a tale, hou Frederik,

Nota hic de diuiciarum Accidencia: vbi narrat qualiter Fredericus Romanorum Imperator duos pauperes audiuit litigantes, quorum vnus dixit, ‘Bene potest ditari, quem Rex vult ditare.’ Et alius dixit, ‘Quem deus vult ditare, diues erit.’ Que res cum ad experimentum postea probata fuisset, ille qui deum inuocabat pastellum auro plenum sortitus est, alius vero caponis pastellum sorte preelegit.

Of Rome that time Emperour,
Herde, as he wente, a gret clamour
Of tuo beggers upon the weie.
That on of hem began to seie,
‘Ha lord, wel mai the man be riche
Whom that a king list forto riche.’
That other saide nothing so,
Bot, ‘He is riche and wel bego,
To whom that god wole sende wele.’
And thus thei maden wordes fele,
Wherof this lord hath hiede nome,
And dede hem bothe forto come
13

To the Paleis, wher he schal ete,
And bad ordeine for here mete
Tuo Pastes, whiche he let do make.
A capoun in that on was bake,
And in that other forto winne
Of florins al that mai withinne
He let do pute a gret richesse;
And evene aliche, as man mai gesse,
Outward thei were bothe tuo.
This begger was comanded tho,
He that which hield him to the king,
That he ferst chese upon this thing:
He sih hem, bot he felte hem noght,
So that upon his oghne thoght
He ches the Capoun and forsok
That other, which his fela tok.
Bot whanne he wiste hou that it ferde,
He seide alowd, that men it herde,
‘Nou have I certeinly conceived
That he mai lihtly be deceived,
That tristeth unto mannes helpe;
Bot wel is him whom god wol helpe,
For he stant on the siker side,
Which elles scholde go beside:
I se my fela wel recovere,
And I mot duelle stille povere.’
Thus spak this begger his entente,
And povere he cam and povere he wente;
Of that he hath richesse soght,
His infortune it wolde noght.
So mai it schewe in sondri wise,
Betwen fortune and covoitise
The chance is cast upon a Dee;
Bot yit fulofte a man mai se
Ynowe of suche natheles,
Whiche evere pute hemself in press
To gete hem good, and yit thei faile.
14

And forto speke of this entaile
Touchende of love in thi matiere,
Mi goode Sone, as thou miht hiere,
That riht as it with tho men stod
Of infortune of worldes good,
As thou hast herd me telle above,
Riht so fulofte it stant be love:
Thogh thou coveite it everemore,
Thou schalt noght have o diel the more,
Bot only that which thee is schape,
The remenant is bot a jape.
And natheles ynowe of tho
Ther ben, that nou coveiten so,
That where as thei a womman se,
Ye ten or tuelve thogh ther be,
The love is nou so unavised,
That wher the beaute stant assised,
The mannes herte anon is there,
And rouneth tales in hire Ere,
And seith hou that he loveth streite,
And thus he set him to coveite,
An hundred thogh he sihe aday.
So wolde he more thanne he may;
Bot for the grete covoitise
Of sotie and of fol emprise
In ech of hem he fint somwhat
That pleseth him, or this or that;
Som on, for sche is whit of skin,
Som on, for sche is noble of kin,
Som on, for sche hath rodi chieke,
Som on, for that sche semeth mieke,
Som on, for sche hath yhen greie,
Som on, for sche can lawhe and pleie,
Som on, for sche is long and smal,
Som on, for sche is lyte and tall,
Som on, for sche is pale and bleche,
Som on, for sche is softe of speche,
Som on, for that sche is camused,
Som on, for sche hath noght ben used,
15

Som on, for sche can daunce and singe;
So that som thing to his likinge
He fint, and thogh nomore he fiele,
Bot that sche hath a litel hiele,
It is ynow that he therfore
Hire love, and thus an hundred score,
Whil thei be newe, he wolde he hadde;
Whom he forsakth, sche schal be badde.
The blinde man no colour demeth,

Cocus non iudicat de coloribus.


But al is on, riht as him semeth;
So hath his lust no juggement,
Whom covoitise of love blent,
Him thenkth that to his covoitise
Hou al the world ne mai suffise,
For be his wille he wolde have alle,
If that it mihte so befalle:
Thus is he commun as the Strete,
I sette noght of his beyete.
Confessor.
Mi Sone, hast thou such covoitise?

Amans.
Nai, fader, such love I despise,
And whil I live schal don evere,
For in good feith yit hadde I levere,
Than to coveite in such a weie,
To ben for evere til I deie
As povere as Job, and loveles,
Outaken on, for haveles
His thonkes is noman alyve.
For that a man scholde al unthryve
Ther oghte no wisman coveite,
The lawe was noght set so streite:
Forthi miself withal to save,
Such on ther is I wolde have,
And non of al these othre mo.

Confessor.
Mi Sone, of that thou woldest so,
I am noght wroth, bot over this
I wol thee tellen hou it is.
For ther be men, whiche otherwise,
16

Riht only for the covoitise
Of that thei sen a womman riche,
Ther wol thei al here love affiche;
Noght for the beaute of hire face,
Ne yit for vertu ne for grace,
Which sche hath elles riht ynowh,
Bot for the Park and for the plowh,
And other thing which therto longeth:
For in non other wise hem longeth
To love, bot thei profit finde;
And if the profit be behinde,
Here love is evere lesse and lesse,
For after that sche hath richesse,
Her love is of proporcion.
If thou hast such condicion,
Mi Sone, tell riht as it is.

Confessio Amantis.
Min holi fader, nay ywiss,
Condicion such have I non.
For trewli, fader, I love oon
So wel with al myn hertes thoght,
That certes, thogh sche hadde noght,
And were as povere as Medea,
Which was exiled for Creusa,
I wolde hir noght the lasse love;
Ne thogh sche were at hire above,
As was the riche qwen Candace,
Which to deserve love and grace
To Alisandre, that was king,
Yaf many a worthi riche thing,
Or elles as Pantasilee,
Which was the quen of Feminee,
And gret richesse with hir nam,
Whan sche for love of Hector cam
To Troie in rescousse of the toun,—
I am of such condicion,
That thogh mi ladi of hirselve
Were also riche as suche tuelve,
17

I couthe noght, thogh it wer so,
No betre love hir than I do.
For I love in so plein a wise,
That forto speke of coveitise,
As for poverte or for richesse
Mi love is nouther mor ne lesse.
For in good feith I trowe this,
So coveitous noman ther is,
Forwhy and he mi ladi sihe,
That he thurgh lokinge of his yhe
Ne scholde have such a strok withinne,
That for no gold he mihte winne
He scholde noght hire love asterte,
Bot if he lefte there his herte;
Be so it were such a man,
That couthe Skile of a womman.
For ther be men so ruide some,
Whan thei among the wommen come,
Thei gon under proteccioun,
That love and his affeccioun
Ne schal noght take hem be the slieve;
For thei ben out of that believe,
Hem lusteth of no ladi chiere,
Bot evere thenken there and hiere
Wher that here gold is in the cofre,
And wol non other love profre:
Bot who so wot what love amounteth
And be resoun trewliche acompteth,
Than mai he knowe and taken hiede
That al the lust of wommanhiede,
Which mai ben in a ladi face,
Mi ladi hath, and ek of grace
If men schull yiven hire a pris,
Thei mai wel seie hou sche is wys
And sobre and simple of contenance,
18

And al that to good governance
Belongeth of a worthi wiht
Sche hath pleinli: for thilke nyht
That sche was bore, as for the nones
Nature sette in hire at ones
Beaute with bounte so besein,
That I mai wel afferme and sein,
I sawh yit nevere creature
Of comlihied and of feture
In eny kinges regioun
Be lich hire in comparisoun:
And therto, as I have you told,
Yit hath sche more a thousendfold
Of bounte, and schortli to telle,
Sche is the pure hed and welle
And Mirour and ensample of goode.
Who so hir vertus understode,
Me thenkth it oughte ynow suffise
Withouten other covoitise
To love such on and to serve,
Which with hire chiere can deserve
To be beloved betre ywiss
Than sche per cas that richest is
And hath of gold a Milion.
Such hath be myn opinion
And evere schal: bot natheles
I seie noght sche is haveles,
That sche nys riche and wel at ese,
And hath ynow wherwith to plese
Of worldes good whom that hire liste;
Bot o thing wolde I wel ye wiste,
That nevere for no worldes good
Min herte untoward hire stod,
Bot only riht for pure love;
That wot the hihe god above.
Nou, fader, what seie ye therto?

Confessor.
Mi Sone, I seie it is wel do.
For tak of this riht good believe,
19

What man that wole himself relieve
To love in eny other wise,
He schal wel finde his coveitise
Schal sore grieve him ate laste,
For such a love mai noght laste.
Bot nou, men sein, in oure daies
Men maken bot a fewe assaies,
Bot if the cause be richesse;
Forthi the love is wel the lesse.
And who that wolde ensamples telle,
Be olde daies as thei felle,
Than mihte a man wel understonde
Such love mai noght longe stonde.
Now herkne, Sone, and thou schalt hiere
A gret ensample of this matiere.

To trete upon the cas of love,
So as we tolden hiere above,
I finde write a wonder thing.

Hic ponit exemplum contra istos qui non propter amorem sed propter diuicias sponsalia sumunt. Et narrat de quodam Regis Apulie Seneschallo, qui non solum propter pecuniam vxorem duxit, set eciam pecunie commercio vxorem sibi desponsatam vendidit.


Of Puile whilom was a king,
A man of hih complexioun
And yong, bot his affeccioun
After the nature of his age
Was yit noght falle in his corage
The lust of wommen forto knowe.
So it betidde upon a throwe
This lord fell into gret seknesse:
Phisique hath don the besinesse
Of sondri cures manyon
To make him hol; and therupon
A worthi maister which ther was
Yaf him conseil upon this cas,
That if he wolde have parfit hele,
He scholde with a womman dele,
A freissh, a yong, a lusti wiht,
To don him compaignie a nyht;
For thanne he seide him redily,
That he schal be al hol therby,
20

And otherwise he kneu no cure.
This king, which stod in aventure
Of lif and deth, for medicine
Assented was, and of covine
His Steward, whom he tristeth wel,
He tok, and tolde him everydel,
Hou that this maister hadde seid:
And therupon he hath him preid
And charged upon his ligance,
That he do make porveance
Of such on as be covenable
For his plesance and delitable;
And bad him, hou that evere it stod,
That he schal spare for no good,
For his will is riht wel to paie.
The Steward seide he wolde assaie:
Bot nou hierafter thou schalt wite,
As I finde in the bokes write,
What coveitise in love doth.
This Steward, forto telle soth,
Amonges al the men alyve
A lusti ladi hath to wyve,
Which natheles for gold he tok
And noght for love, as seith the bok.
A riche Marchant of the lond
Hir fader was, and hire fond
So worthily, and such richesse
Of worldes good and such largesse
With hire he yaf in mariage,
That only for thilke avantage
Of good this Steward hath hire take,
For lucre and noght for loves sake,
And that was afterward wel seene;
Nou herkne what it wolde meene.
This Steward in his oghne herte
21

Sih that his lord mai noght asterte
His maladie, bot he have
A lusti womman him to save,
And thoghte he wolde yive ynowh
Of his tresor; wherof he drowh
Gret coveitise into his mynde,
And sette his honour fer behynde
Thus he, whom gold hath overset,
Was trapped in his oghne net;
The gold hath mad hise wittes lame,
So that sechende his oghne schame
He rouneth in the kinges Ere,
And seide him that he wiste where
A gentile and a lusti on
Tho was, and thider wolde he gon:
Bot he mot yive yiftes grete;
For bot it be thurgh gret beyete
Of gold, he seith, he schal noght spede.
The king him bad upon the nede
That take an hundred pound he scholde,
And yive it where that he wolde,
Be so it were in worthi place:
And thus to stonde in loves grace
This king his gold hath abandouned.
And whan this tale was full rouned,
The Steward tok the gold and wente,
Withinne his herte and many a wente
Of coveitise thanne he caste,
Wherof a pourpos ate laste
Ayein love and ayein his riht
He tok, and seide hou thilke nyht
His wif schal ligge be the king;
And goth thenkende upon this thing
Toward his In, til he cam hom
Into the chambre, and thanne he nom
His wif, and tolde hire al the cas.
And sche, which red for schame was,
With bothe hire handes hath him preid
22

Knelende and in this wise seid,
That sche to reson and to skile
In what thing that he bidde wile
Is redy forto don his heste,
Bot this thing were noght honeste,
That he for gold hire scholde selle.
And he tho with hise wordes felle
Forth with his gastly contienance
Seith that sche schal don obeissance
And folwe his will in every place;
And thus thurgh strengthe of his manace
Hir innocence is overlad,
Wherof sche was so sore adrad
That sche his will mot nede obeie.
And therupon was schape a weie,
That he his oghne wif be nyhte
Hath out of alle mennes sihte
So prively that non it wiste
Broght to the king, which as him liste
Mai do with hire what he wolde.
For whan sche was ther as sche scholde,
With him abedde under the cloth,
The Steward tok his leve and goth
Into a chambre faste by;
Bot hou he slep, that wot noght I,
For he sih cause of jelousie.
Bot he, which hath the compainie
Of such a lusti on as sche,
Him thoghte that of his degre
Ther was noman so wel at ese:
Sche doth al that sche mai to plese,
So that his herte al hol sche hadde;
And thus this king his joie ladde,
Til it was nyh upon the day.
The Steward thanne wher sche lay
Cam to the bedd, and in his wise
Hath bede that sche scholde arise.
23

The king seith, ‘Nay, sche schal noght go.’
His Steward seide ayein, ‘Noght so;
For sche mot gon er it be knowe,
And so I swor at thilke throwe,
Whan I hire fette to you hiere.’
The king his tale wol noght hiere,
And seith hou that he hath hire boght,
Forthi sche schal departe noght,
Til he the brighte dai beholde.
And cawhte hire in hise armes folde,
As he which liste forto pleie,
And bad his Steward gon his weie,
And so he dede ayein his wille.
And thus his wif abedde stille
Lay with the king the longe nyht
Til that it was hih Sonne lyht;
Bot who sche was he knew nothing.
Tho cam the Steward to the king
And preide him that withoute schame
In savinge of hire goode name
He myhte leden hom ayein
This lady, and hath told him plein
Hou that it was his oghne wif.
The king his Ere unto this strif
Hath leid, and whan that he it herde,
Welnyh out of his wit he ferde,
And seide, ‘Ha, caitif most of alle,
Wher was it evere er this befalle,
That eny cokard in this wise
Betok his wif for coveitise?
Thou hast bothe hire and me beguiled
And ek thin oghne astat reviled,
Wherof that buxom unto thee
Hierafter schal sche nevere be.
For this avou to god I make,
After this day if I thee take,
Thou schalt ben honged and todrawe.
24

Nou loke anon thou be withdrawe,
So that I se thee neveremore.’
This Steward thanne dradde him sore,
With al the haste that he mai
And fledde awei that same dai,
And was exiled out of londe.
Lo, there a nyce housebonde,
Which thus hath lost his wif for evere!
Bot natheles sche hadde a levere;
The king hire weddeth and honoureth,
Wherof hire name sche socoureth,
Which erst was lost thurgh coveitise
Of him, that ladde hire other wise,
And hath himself also forlore.
Confessor.
Mi Sone, be thou war therfore,
Wher thou schalt love in eny place,
That thou no covoitise embrace,
The which is noght of loves kinde.
Bot for al that a man mai finde
Nou in this time of thilke rage
Ful gret desese in mariage,
Whan venym melleth with the Sucre
And mariage is mad for lucre,
Or for the lust or for the hele:
What man that schal with outher dele,
He mai noght faile to repente.

Amans.
Mi fader, such is myn entente:
Bot natheles good is to have,
For good mai ofte time save
The love which scholde elles spille.
Bot god, which wot myn hertes wille,
I dar wel take to witnesse,
Yit was I nevere for richesse
Beset with mariage non;
For al myn herte is upon on
So frely, that in the persone
Stant al my worldes joie al one:
I axe nouther Park ne Plowh,
25

If I hire hadde, it were ynowh,
Hir love scholde me suffise
Withouten other coveitise.
Lo now, mi fader, as of this,
Touchende of me riht as it is,
Mi schrifte I am beknowe plein;
And if ye wole oght elles sein,
Of covoitise if ther be more
In love, agropeth out the sore.

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