University of Virginia Library

The clowdy nyght, wndir whois obscure
The rest and quiet of euery creatur
Lyith sauf; quhare the gost with besyness
Is occupiit, with thoghtfull hewynes,
And, for that thocht furth schewing vil his mycht,
Go fare wel rest and quiet of the nycht.
Artur, I meyne, to whome that rest is nocht,
But al the nycht supprisit is with thocht;
In to his bed he turnyth to and fro,
Remembryng the apperans of his wo,
That is to say, his deith, his confusioune,
And of his realme the opin distruccioune,
That in his wit he can no thing prowide,
Bot tak his forton thar for to abyd.
Vp goith the son, vp goith the hot morow;
The thoghtful king al the nycht to sorow,
That sauch the day, vpone his feit he start,
And furth he goith, distrublit in his hart.
A quhill he walkith in his pensyf gost,
So was he ware thar cummyne to the ost
O clerk, with whome he was aqwynt befor,
In to his tyme non better was ybore;
Of qwhois com he gretly vas Reiosit,
For in to hyme sum comfort he supposit;
Betuex them was one hartly affeccioune.
Non orderis had he of Relegioune,
Famus he was, and of gret excellence,
And rycht expert in al the vij. science;
Contemplatif and chast in gouernance,
And clepit was the maister amytans.
The king befor his palȝoune one the gren,
That knew hyme well, & haith his cummyn sen̄,
Velcummyt hyme, and maid hyme rycht gud chere,
And he agan, agrewit as he were,
Saith, “nothir of thi salosing, nor the,
Ne rak I nocht, ne charg I nocht,” quod hee.
Than quod the king, “maister, & for what why
Ar ȝhe agrewit? or quhat tresspas have I
Commytit, so that I shal yow disples?”
Quod he, “no thing It is ayane myn ess,
But only contrare of thi self alway;
So sare the courss yow passith of the way,
Thi schip, that goth apone the stormy vall,
Ney of thi careldis in the swelf it fall,
Whar she almost is in the perell drent;
That is to say, yow art so far myswent
Of wykitness vpone the vrechit dans,
That yow art fallyng in the storng vengans
Of goddis wreth, that shal the son deuour;
For of his strok approchit now the hour
That boith thi Ringe, thi ceptre, & thi crovn̄,
Frome hie estat he smyting shal adoune.
And that accordith well, for in thi thocht
Yow knawith not hyme, the wich that haith the wrocht,
And set the vp in to this hie estat
From powert; for, as the-selwyne wat,
It cummyth al bot only of his myght,
And not of the, nor of thi elderis Richt
To the discending, as in heritage,
For yow was not byget in to spousag.
Wharfor yow aucht his biding to obserf,
And at thy mycht yow shuld hyme pless & serf;
That dois yow nat, for yow art so confussit
With this fals warld, that thow haith hyme Refusit,
And brokine haith his reul and ordynans,
The wich to the he gave in gouernans.
He maid the king, he maid the gouernour,
He maid the so, and set in hie honour
Of Realmys and of peplis sere;
Efter his loue thow shuld them Reul & stere,
And wnoppressit kep in to Iustice,
The wykit men and pwnyce for ther wice.
Yow dois no thing, bot al in the contrare,
And suffrith al thi puple to forfare;
Yow haith non Ey bot one thyne awn delyt,
Or quhat that plesing shall thyne appetyt.
In the defalt of law and of Iustice,
Wndir thi hond is sufferyt gret suppriss
Of faderless, and modirless also,
And wedwis ek sustenit mekill wo.
With gret myschef oppressit ar the pure;
And thow art causs of al this hol Iniure,
Whar-of that god a raknyng sal craf
At the, and a sore Raknyng sal hafe;
For thyne estat is gewyne to Redress
Thar ned, and kep them to rychtwysness;
And thar is non that ther complantis heris;
The mychty folk, and ek the flattereris
Ar cheif with the, and doith this oppressioun;
If thai complen, It is ther confussioune.
And daniell saith that who doith to the pure,
Or faderless, or modirless, EnIure,
Or to the puple, that ilke to god doth hee;
And al this harme sustenit Is throw the.
Yow sufferith them, oppressith & anoyith;
So yow art causs, throw the thei ar distroyth;
Than, at thi mycht, god so distroys yow.
What shal he do aȝane? quhat shal yow,
When he distroys by vengance of his suerd
The synaris fra the vysagis of the Erde?
Than vtraly yow shall distroyt bee;
And that Richt weill apperis now of thee,
For yow allon byleft art folitere,
And the wyss salamon can duclar,
‘Wo be to hyme that is byleft alone,
He haith no help;’ so Is thi forton gon̄e;
For he is callit, with quhom that god is nocht,
Allone; and so thi wykitness haith wrocht
That god hyme self he is bycummyn thi fo,
Thi pupleis hartis haith thow tynt also;
Thi wykitness thus haith the maid alon,
That of this erth thi fortone Is ygon̄.
Yow mone thi lyf, yow mone thi vorschip tyne,
And eft to deth that neuer shal haf syne.”
“Maister,” quod he, “of yowre beneuolens,
Y yow besech that tueching myn offens,
Ȝhe wald wichsaif your consell to me If
How I sal mend, and ek her eftir leif.”
“Now,” quod the maister, “and I have merwell qwhy
Yow askith consail, and wil in non affy,
Nor wyrk thar-by; and ȝhit yow may In tym,
If yow lykith to amend the cryme.”
“Ȝhis,” saith the king, “and suthfastly I will
Ȝour ordynans in euery thing fulfyll.”
“And if the list at consail to abide,
The remed of thi harme to prouyde—
First, the begyning is of sapiens,
To dreid the lord and his magnificens;
And what thow haith in contrar hyme ofendit,
Whill yow haith mycht, of fre desir amend it;
Repent thi gilt, repent thi gret trespass,
And remembir one goddis richwysness;
How or to hyme that wykitness anoyt,
And how the way of synaris he distroit;
And if ye lyk to ryng wnder his pess,
Ye wengans of his mychty hond yow sess,
This schalt yow do, if yow wil be perfit.
First, mone yow be penitent and contrit
Of euery thing that tuechith thi consiens,
Done of fre will, or ȝhit of neglygens.
Thi neid requirith ful contretioune,
Princepaly with-out conclusioune;
With humble hart and gostly bysyness,
Syne shalt yow go deuotly the confess
Ther of vnto sum haly conffessour,
That the wil consail tueching thin arour;
And to fulfill his will and ordynans,
In satisfaccione and doing of penans,
And to amend al wrang and al Iniure,
By the ydone til euery Creature;
If yow can In to thi hart fynde,
Contretioune well degest In to thi mynd.
Now go thi weie, for if it leful were,
Confessioune to me, I shuld It here.”
Than arthur, Richt obedient & mek,
In to his wit memoratyve can seik
Of euery gilt wich that he can pens,
Done frome he passith the ȝeris of Innocens;
And as his maister hyme commandit hade,
He goith and his confessione haith he maad
Richt deuotly with lementable chere;
The maner wich quho lykith for to here
He may It fynd In to the holl romans,
Off confessione o pasing cercumstans.
I can It not, I am no confessour,
My wyt haith ewil consat of that labour,
Quharof I wot I aucht repent me sore.
The king wich was confessit, what is more,
Goith and til his maister tellith hee,
How euery syne In to his awn degree
He shew, that mycht occuryng to his mynde.
“Now,” quod the maistere, “left thow aght behynde
Of albenak the vorschipful king ban,
The wich that vas in to my seruice slan,
And of his wif disherist eft also?
Bot of ther sone, the wich was them fro,
Ne spek y not;”—the king in his entent
Abasyt was, and furthwith is he went
Aȝane, and to his confessour declarith;
Syne to his maister he ayane Reparith,
To quhome he saith, “I aftir my cunyng
Your ordinans fulfillit in al thing;
And now right hartly y beseich and prey,
Ȝhe wald withschaif sum thing to me say,
That may me comfort in my gret dreid,
And how my men ar falȝet in my Neid,
And of my dreme, the wich that is so dirk.”
This master saith, “and thow art bound to virk
At my consail, and if yow has maad
Thi confessione, as yow before hath said,
And in thi conciens thinkith perseuere,
As I presume that thow onon shalt here
That god hyme self shal so for ye prouide,
Thow shal Remayne and In thi Ring abyd.
And why thi men ar falȝet At this nede,
At short this is the causs, shalt yow nocht dred,
Fore yow to gode was frawart and perwert;
Thi ryngne and the he thocht for to subwart;
And yow sal knaw na power may recist,
In contrar quhat god lykith to assi[s]t.
The vertw nore the strenth of victory
It cummyth not of man, bot anerly
Of hyme, the wich haith euery strinth; & than,
If that the waiis plessit hyme of man,
He shal have forss aȝane his ennemys.
A-ryght agan apone the samyne vyss,
If he displess vn to the lord, he shall
Be to his fais a subiet or a thrall,
As that we may In to the bible red,
Tueching the folk he tuk hyme self to led
In to the lond, the wich he them byhicht.
Ay when thei ȝhed in to his ways Richt,
Ther fois gon befor there suerd to nocht;
And when that thei ayanis hyme hath vrocht,
Thei war so full of radur and disspare,
That of o leif fleing in the air,
The sound of It haith gart o thousand tak
At onys apone them self the bak,
And al ther manhed vterly foryhet;
Sich dreid the lord apone ther hartis set.
So shalt yow know no powar may withstond,
Ther god hyme self hath ton the causs on hond.
And ye quhy stant in thyne awn offens,
That al thi puple falȝhet off defens.
And sum ar falȝeing magre ther entent;
Thei ar to quhom thow yewyne hath thi rent,
Thi gret Reuard, thi richess and thi gold,
And cherissith and held in thi houshold.
Bot the most part ar falȝheit the at wyll,
To quhome yow haith wnkyndness schawin till,
Wrong and inIure, and ek defalt of law,
And pwnysing of qwich that thei stand aw;
And makith seruice but reward or fee,
Syne haith no thonk bot fremmytness of the.
Such folk to the cummyth bot for dred,
Not of fre hart the for to help at nede.
And what awalith owthir sheld or sper,
Or horss or armoure according for ye were,
Vith-outen man them for to stere and led?
And man, yow wot, that vantith hart is ded,
That in to armys seruith he of noght;
A cowart oft ful mekil harm haith vroght.
In multitude nore ȝhit in confluens
Of sich, is nowther manhed nore defens.
And so thow hath the rewlyt, that almost
Of al thi puple the hartis ben ylost
And tynt richt throw thyne awn mysgouernans,
Of auerice and of thyne errogans.
What is o prince? quhat is o gouernoure
Withouten fame of worschip and honour?
What is his mycht, suppos he be A lorde,
If that his folk sal nocht to hyme accorde?
May he his Rigne, may he his holl Empire
Susten al only of his owne desyre,
In serwyng of his wrechit appetit
Of awerice and of his awn delyt,
And hald his men, wncherist, in thraldome?
Nay! that shal sone his hie estat consome,
For many o knycht therby is broght ydoune,
All vteraly to ther confusioune:
For oft it makith vther kingis by
To wer on them In trast of victory;
And oft als throw his peple is distroyth,
That fyndith them agrewit or anoyth;
And god also oft with his awn swerd,
Punysith ther wysis one this erd.
Thus falith not o king but gouernans,
Boith realme and he goith one to myschans.”
As thai war thus speking of this thinge,
Frome galiot cam two knychtis to the king;
That one the king of hundereth knychtis was;
That other to nome the fyrst conquest king he has,
As first that galyot conquerit of one.
The nerest way one to the king thei gon,
And vp he ross, as he that wel couth do
Honor, to qwhome that It afferith to;
And ȝhit he wist not at thei kingis were;
So them thei boith and vyth rycht knyghtly cher
Reuerendly thei salust hyme, and thane
The king of hunder knyghtis he began
And said hyme, “sir, to ȝow my lord ws sende,
Galiot, whilk bad ws say he wende,
That of this world the vorthiest king wor ȝhe,
Gretest of men and of awtoritee;
Wharof he has gret wonder that ȝhe ar
So feble cummyne In to his contrare,
For to defend your cuntre & your londe,
And knowith well ȝhe may hyme nocht withstonde.
Wharfor he thinkith no worschip to conquere,
Nore in the weris more to persyuere;
Considdir yowr wakness and your Indegens,
Aȝanis hyme as now to mak defens.
Wharfore, my lord haith grantit by vs here
Trewis to yhow and resput for o ȝhere,
If that yhow lykith by the ȝheris space
For to retwrn ayane In to this place,
Her to manteine yhour cuntre, and withstond
Hyme with the holl power of yhour lond.
And for the tyme the trewis shal endure,
Yhour cuntre and yhour lond he will assurre;
And wit ȝhe ȝhit his powar is nocht here.
And als he bad ws say yhow by the yhere,
The gud knycht wich that the Red armys bure
And in the feild maid the discumfiture,
The whilk the flour of knychthed may be cold,
He thinkith hyme to haue of his houshold.”
“Well,” quod the king, “I have hard quhat yhe say,
Bot if god will, and ek if that I may,
In to sich wyss I think for to withstond,
Yhour lord shall have no powar of my londe.”
Of this mesag the king Reiosing hass,
And of the trewis wich that grantit was,
Bot anoyt ȝhit of the knycht was he,
Wich thei awant to have in such dogre.
Ther leif thei tuk; and when at thei war gon,
This maister saith, “how lykith god dispone!
Now may yhow se & suth is my recorde;
For by hyme now is makith this accord;
And by non vthir worldly providens,
Sauf only grant of his bynewolans,
To se if that the lykith to amend,
And to prouid thi cuntre to defend.
Wharfor yow shalt in to thi lond home fair,
And gowerne the as that I shall declaire.
First, thi god with humble hart yow serfe,
And his comand at al thi mycht obserf;
And syne, lat pass the ilk blessit wonde
Of lowe with mercy Iustly throw thi londe;
And y beseich—to quhome yow sal direke
The rewle vpone, the wrangis to correk—
That yow be nocht in thi electioune blynde;
For writin It Is and yow sal trew It fynde,
That, be thei for to thonk or ellis blame,
(And towart god thi part shal be the sam̄;)
Of Ignorans shalt yow nocht be excusit,
Bot in ther werkis sorly be accusit,
For thow schuld euer chess apone sich wyss
The minsteris that rewll haith of Iustice:—
First, that he be descret til wnderstond
And lowe and ek the mater of the londe;
And be of mycht and ek Autoritee,
(For puple ay contempnith low degre,)
And that of trouth he folow furth the way;
That is als mych as he louyth trewth alway,
And haitith al them the wich sal pas therfro.
Syne, that he god dreid and lowe al-so.
Of auerice be war with the desyre,
And of hyme full of hastynes & fyre;
Be war thar for of malice and desire,
And hyme also that lowith no medyre;
For al thir abhominable was hold,
When Iustice was in to the tymis olde.
For qwho that is of an of thir by-know,
The lest of them subuertith al the low,
And makith It w[n]Iustly to procede;
Eschew tharfor, for this sal be thi meid
Apone the day when al thing goith aright,
Whar none excuss hidyng schal ye lyght;
Bot he the Iug, that no man may susspek,
Euery thing ful Iustly sal correk.
Be war thar with, as before have I told,
And chess them wysly that thi low shal hold.
And als I will that it well oft be sen,
Richt to thi self how thei thi low conten;
And how the Right, and how the dom is went,
For to Inquer that yow be delygent.
And punyss for, for o thing shal yow know,
The most trespas is to subuert the low,
So that yow be not in thar gilt accusit,
And frome the froit of blissit folk refusit.
And pas yow shalt to euery chef toune,
Throw out the boundis of thi Regioune
Whar yow sall be, that Iustice be Elyk
With-out diuisione baith to pur & ryk.
And that thi puple have awdiens
With thar complantis, and also thi presens;
For qwho his eris frome the puple stekith,
And not his hond in ther support furth rekith,
His dom sall be ful grewous & ful hard,
When he sal cry and he sal nocht be hard.
Wharfor thyne eris ifith to the pwre,
Bot in redress of ned, & not of inIure;
Thus sall thei don of Ressone & knawlag.
And of thi wordis beis trew and stable,
Spek not to mych, nore be not vareable.
O kingis word shuld be o kingis bonde,
And said It is, a kingis word shuld stond;
O kingis word, among our faderis old,
Al out more precious & more sur was hold
Than was the oth or seel of any wight;
O king of trouth suld be the werray lyght,
So treuth and Iustice to o king accordyth.
And als, as thir clerkis old recordith,
In tyme is larges and humilitee
Right well according vnto hie dugre,
And plessith boith to god and man al-so;
Wharfor I wil, incontinent thow go,
And of thi lond in euery part abide,
Whar yow gar fet and clep one euery sid
Out of thi cuntreis, and ek out of thi tovnis,
Thi dukis, erlis, and thi gret baronis,
Thi pur knychtis, and thi bachleris,
And them resauf als hartly as afferis,
And be them self yow welcum them ilkon:
Syne, them to glaid and cheris, thee dispone
With festing and with humyll contynans.
Be not pensyve, nore proud in arrogans,
Bot with them hold in gladnes cumpany;
Not with the Rich nor myghty anerly,
Bot with the pure worthi man also,
With them thow sit, with them yow ryd and go.
I say not to be our fameliar,
For, as the most philosephur can duclar,
To mych to oyss familiaritee
Contempnyng bryngith one to hie dugre:
Bot cherice them with wordis fair depaynt,
So with thi pupelle sal yow the aquaynt.
Than of ilk cuntre wysly yow enquere
An agit knycht to be thi consulere,
That haith ben hold in armys Richt famus,
Wyss and discret, & no thing Inwyus;
For ther is non that knowith so wel, I-wyss,
O worthy man as he that worthi Is.
When well long haith yow swiornyt in a place,
And well acqueynt the vith thi puple has,
Than shalt thow ordand & prowid the
Of horss and ek of armour gret plente,
Of gold, and siluer, tressore, and cleithing,
And euery Riches that longith to o king;
And when the lykith for to tak thi leif,
By largess thus yow thi reward geif,
First to the pure worthy honorable,
That is til armys and til manhed able;
(Set he be pur, ȝhit worschip in hyme bidith);
If hyme the horss one wich thi selwyne Ridith,
And bid hyme that he Rid hyme for yhour sak;
Syne til hyme gold and siluer yow betak;
The horss to hyme for worschip and prowes,
The tresor for his fredome and larges.
If most of Riches, and of Cherising
Eftir this gud knycht berith vitnesing.
Syne to thi tennandis & to thi wawasouris
If essy haknays, palfrais, and cursouris
And robis sich as plesand ben and fair;
Syne to thi lordis wich at mychty aire,
As dukis, erlis, princis, and ek kingis,
Yow if them strang, yow if them vncouth thingis,
As diuerss iowellis, and ek preciouss stonis,
Or halkis hundis, ordinit for the nonis,
Or wantone horss that can nocht stand in stāble;
Thar giftis mot be fair and delitable.
Thus, first vn to the vorthi pur yow if
Giftis, that may ther pouerte Releif;
And to the rich iftis of plesans,
That thei be fair, set nocht of gret substans;
For riches askith no thing bot delyt,
And powert haith ay ane appetyt
For to support ther ned and Indigens:
Thus shall yow if and makith thi dispens.
And ek the quen, my lady, shalt also
To madenis and to ladeis, quhar ȝhe go,
If, and cheriss one the samyne wyss;
For in to largess al thi welfar lyis.
And if thy giftis with sich continans
That thei be sen ay gifyne vith plesans;
The wyss man sais, and suth it is approuit.
Thar is no thonk, thar is no ift alowit,
Bot It be ifyne In to sich manere,
That is to say, als glaid in to his chere,
As he the wich the ift of hyme Resauith;
And do he not, the gifar is dissauith;
For who that iffis, as he not if wald,
Mor profit war his ift for to with-hald;
His thonk he tynith, and his ift also.
Bot that thow ifith, if with boith two,
That is to say, vith hart and hand atonis;
And so the wysman ay ye ift disponis.
Beith larg and iffis frely of thi thing;
For largess is the tresour of o king,
And not this other Iowellis nor this gold
That is in to thi tresory with-holde.
Who gladly iffith, be vertew of larges
His tresory encresis of Richesss,
And sal aȝan̄e the mor al out resawe.
For he to quhome he ȝewith sall hawe,
First his body, syne his hart with two,
His gudis al for to dispone also
In his seruice; and mor atour he shall
Have O thing, and that is best of all,
That is to say, the worschip and the loss
That vpone larges in this world furth goss.
And yow shal knaw the lawbour & the press
In to this erth about the gret Richess.
Is ony, bot apone the causs we see
Of met, of cloth, & of prosperitee?
All the remanant stant apone the name
Of purches, furth apone this worldis fame.
And well yow wot, in thyne allegians
Ful many Is, the wich haith sufficians
Of euery thing that longith to ther ned;
What haith yow more, qwich them al to lede,
For al thi Realmys and thi gret Riches,
If that yow lak of worschip the encress?
Well less, al out; for efter thar estate
Thei have vorschip, and kepith It al gat;
And yow degradith al thyne hie dugree,
That so schuld shyne In to nobelitee,
Throuch wys and throw the wrechitness of hart.
And knowis yow not what sall be thi part,
Out of this world when yow sal pass the courss?
Fair well, I-wyss! yow neuer shall Recourss
Whar no prince more shall the subiet have,
But be als dep in to the erd y-grave,
Sauf vertew only and worschip wich abidith
With them; the world apone the laif dewidith;
And if he, wich shal eftir the succed,
By larges spend, of quhich that yhow had dreid,
He of the world comendit is and prisit,
And yow stant furth of euery thing dispisit;
The puple saith and demyth thus of thee,
‘Now is he gone, a werray vrech was hee,
And he the wich that is our king and lord
Boith wertew haith & larges in accorde;
Welcum be he!’ and so the puple soundith.
Thus through thi viss his wertew mor aboundith,
And his vertew the more thi wice furth schawith.
Wharfor ȝhe, wich that princes ben y-knawith,
Lat not yhour vrechit hart so yhow dant,
That he that cummyth next yhow may awant
To be mor larg, nore more to be commendit;
Best kepit Is the Riches well dispendit.
O ȝhe, the wich that kingis ben, fore sham
Remembrith yhow, this world hath bot o naam̄
Of good or ewill, efter ȝhe ar gone!
And wysly tharfor chessith yhow the ton̄
Wich most accordith to nobilitee,
And knytith larges to yhour hie degre.
For qwhar that fredome In O prince Ringnis,
It bryngith In the victory of kingis,
And makith realmys and puple boith to dout,
And subectis of the cuntre al about.
And qwho that thinkith ben o conquerour,
Suppos his largess sumquhat pas mysour,
Ne rak he nat, bot frely iffith ay;
And as he wynyth, beis var al-way
To mych nor ȝhit to gredy that he hold,
Wich sal the hartis of the puple colde.
And low and radour cummyth boith two
Of larges; Reid and ȝhe sal fynd It so.
Alexander, this lord the warld that wan,
First with the suerd of larges he began,
And as he wynith ifith largely,
He rakith No thing bot of cheuelry;
Wharfor of hyme so passith the Renown,
That many o cetee, and many o strang town̄,
Of his worschip that herith the Recorde,
Dissirith so to haveing sich o lorde,
And offerith them with-outen strok of spere,
Suppos that thei war manly men of were,
But only for his gentilless that thei
Have hard; and so he louit was al-way
For his larges, humilitee, and manhed,
With his awn folk, that neuermore, we Reid,
For al his weris nor his gret trawell,
In al his tym that thei hyme onys faill;
Bot in his worschip al thar besynes
Thei set, and lewith in to no distres;
Whar-throw the suerd of victory he berith.
And many prince full oft the palm werith,
As has ben hard, by largess, of before,
In conqueringe of Rignis & of glore.
And wrechitnes Richt so, in the contrar,
Haith Realmys maid ful desolat & barre,
And kingis broght doun from ful hie estat;
And who that Red ther old bukis, wat
The vicis lef, the wertew have in mynde,
And takith larges In his awn kynd,
A-myd standing of the vicis two,
Prodegalitee and awerice also;
Wharfor her of It nedith not to more,
So mych ther of haith clerkis vrit to fore.
Bot who the wertw of larges & the law
Sal chess, mot ned considir well & knaw
In to hyme self, and thir thre wnderstande,
The substans first, the powar of his land,
Whome to he iffith, and the causs wharfore,
The nedful tyme awatith euermore.
Kepith thir thre; for qwho that sal exced
His rent, he fallith sodandly in nede.
And so the king, that on to myster drowis,
His subiettis and his puple he our-thrawis,
And them dispolȝeith boith of lond and Rent;
So is the king, so is the puple schent.
For quhi the woice It scrikth vp ful ewyne
With-out abaid, and passith to the hewyne,
Whar god hyme self resauith ther the crye
Of the oppresioune and the teranny,
And vith the suerd of wengans doun ysmytith,
The wich that caruith al to sor, and bitith,
And hyme distroyth, as has ben hard or this
Of euery king that wirkith sich o mys.
For ther is few eschapith them, It sall
Boith vpone hyme & his successione fall;
For he forsuth haith ifyne hyme the wond
To Iustefy and Reull in pece his lond,
The puple all submytit to his cure;
And he aȝan one to no creatur
Save only shall vn to his gode obey.
And if he passith so far out of the wey,
Them to oppress, that he shuld reul & gid,
Ther heritag, there gwdis to dewide,
Ye, wnder whome that he most nedis stond,
At correccioune sal strek his mychty hond,
Not euery day, bot shal at onys fall
On hyme, mayhap, and his succescione all.
In this, allace! the blyndis of the kingis,
And Is the fall of princis and of Rygnis.
The most wertew, the gret Intellegens,
The blessit tokyne of wysdom and prudens
Isss, in o king, for to restren his honde
Frome his pupleis Riches & ther lond.
Mot euery king have this wice in mynd
In tyme, and not when that he ned fynde!
And in thi larges beith war, I pray,
Of nedful tyme, for than is best alway.
Awyss the ek quhome to that thow salt if,
Of there fam, and ek how that thei leif;
And of the wertws and wicious folk also,
I the beseich dewidith well thir two,
So that thei stond nocht in o degree;
Discreccioune sall mak the diuersitee,
Wich clepith the moder of al vertewis.
And beith war, I the beseich of this,
That is to say of flatry, wich that longith
To court, and al the kingis larges fongith.
The vertuouss man no thing thar-of resauith,
The flattereris now so the king dissauith
And blyndith them that wot no thing, I-wyss,
When thei do well, or quhen thei do o myss;
And latith kingis oft til wnderstonde
Thar vicis, and ek ye faltis of ther lond.
In to the realme about o king Is holde
O flatterere were than is the stormys cold,
Or pestelens, and mor the realme anoyith,
For he the law and puple boith distroyith.
And in to principall ben ther three thingis,
That caussith flattereris stonding with the kingis;
And on, It is the blyndit Ignorans
Of kingis, wich that hath no gouernans
To wnderstond who doith sich o myss;
But who that farest schewith hym, I-wyss,
Most suffisith and best to his plesans.
Wo to the realme that havith sich o chans!
And secundly, quhar that o king Is
Weciuss hyme self, he cherissith, ywys,
Al them the wich that one to vicis soundith,
Whar throw that vicis and flattery ek aboundith.
The thrid, is the ilk schrewit harrmful wice,
Wich makith o king within hyme self so nyce,
That al thar flattry and ther gilt he knowith
In to his wit, and ȝhit he hyme with-drowith
Them to repref, and of ther vicis he wot;
And this It is wich that dissemblyng hot,
That in no way accordith for o king.
Is he not set abuf apone his Ringne,
As souerane his puple for to lede?
Whi schuld he spare, or quhom of schuld he dred
To say the treuth, as he of Right is hold?
And if so ware that al the kingis wold,
When that his legis comytit ony wyce,
As beith not to schamful, nore to nyce,
That thei presume that he is negligent,
But als far as he thinkith that thei mysswent,
But dissemblyng reprewith as afferis,
And pwnice them quhar pwnysing Requeris,
Sauf only mercy in the tyme of ned.
And so o king he schuld his puple led,
That no trespass, that cummyth in his way,
Shuld pass his hond wne-pwnist away;
Nore no good deid in to the samyn degree,
Nore no wertew, suld wn-Reuardid bee.
Than flattry shuld, that now is he, be low,
And wice from the kingis court with-drow;
His minsteris that shuld the Iustice reull,
Shuld kep well furth of quiet & reull,
That now, god wat, as It conserwit Is,
The stere is lost, and al is gon amys;
And vertew shuld hame to the court hyme dress,
That exillith goith in to the wildernes.
Thus if o king stud lyk his awn degree,
Wertwis and wyss than shuld his puple bee,
Only set by vertew hyme to pless,
And sore adred his wisdom to displess.
And if that he towart the vicis draw,
His folk sall go on to that ilk law;
What shal hyme pless that wil nocht ellis fynd,
Bot ther apon setith al ther mynde.
Thus only in the wertew of o king
The reull stant of his puple & his ringne,
If he be wyss and, but dissemblyng, schewis,
As I have said, the vicis one to schrewis.
And so thus, sir, It stant apone thi will
For to amend thi puple, or to spill;
Or have thi court of vertewis folk, or fullis;
Sen yow art holl maister of the scoullis
Teichith them, and thei sal gladly leir,
That is to say, that thei may no thing heir
Sauf only wertew towart thyn estat;
And cheriss them that wertews ben algait.
And thinkith what that wertew is to thee;
It plessith god, vphaldith thi degree.”
“Maister,” quod he, “me think rycht profitable
Yowr conseell Is, and wonder honorable
For me, and good; rycht well I have consauit,
And in myne hartis Inwartness resauit.
I shal fulfill and do yowr ordynans
Als far of wit as I have suffisans;
Bot y beseich yow, in til hartly wyss,
That of my drem ȝhe so to me dewyss,
The wich so long haith occupeid my mynd,
How that I shal no maner sucour fynd
Bot only throw the wattir lyon, & syne
The leich that is withouten medysyne,
And of the consell of the flour; wich ayre
Wonderis lyk that no man can duclar.”
“Now, sir,” quod he, “and I of them al thre,
What thei betakyne shal I schaw to the,
Such as the clerkis at them specefiit;
Thei vsit no thing what thei signefiit.
The wattir lyone Is the god werray,
God to the lyone is lyknyt many way;
But thei have hyme In to the wattir sen̄,
Confusit were ther wittis al, y wen̄;
The wattir was ther awn fragelitee,
And thar trespas, and thar Inequitee
In to this world, the wich thei stond yclosit;
That was the wattir wich thei have supposit,
That haith there knowlag maad so Inperfyt;
Thar syne & ek ther worldis gret delyt,
As clowdy wattir, was euermore betwen̄,
That thei the lyone perfitly hath nocht sen̄;
Bot as the wattir, wich was yer awn synne,
That euermor thei stond confusit In.
If thei haith stond in to religion̄ clen,
Thei had the lyone Not in watter sen,
Bot clerly vp in to the hewyne abuf,
Eternaly whar he shal not remufe.
And euermore in vatter of syne vas hee,
For quhi It is Imposseble for to bee;
And thus the world, wich that thei ar In,
Yclosit Is in dyrknes of ther syne;
And ek the thikness of the air betwen
The lyone mad in vattir to be sen.
For It was nocht bot strenth of ther clergy
Wich thei have here, and It is bot erthly,
That makith them there resouns dewyss,
And se the lyone thus in erthly wyss.
This is the lyone, god, and goddis sone,
Ihesu crist, wich ay in hewyne sal wonne.
For as the lyone of euery best is king,
So is he lord and maister of al thing,
That of the blessit vyrgyne vas ybore.
Ful many a natur the lyone haith, quhar fore
That he to god resemblyt is, bot I
Lyk not mo at this tyme specify.
This is the lyone, thar of have yow no dred,
That shal the help and comfort In thi ned.
The sentens here now woll I the defyne
Of hyme, the lech withouten medysyne,
Wich is the god that euery thing hath vroght.
For yow may know that vther Is It noght,
As surgynis and fesicianis, wich that delith
With mortell thingis, and mortell thingis helyth,
And al thar art is in to medysyne,
As it is ordanit be the mycht dewyne,
As plasteris, drinkis, and anouyntmentis seir,
And of the qualyte watyng of the yher;
And of the planetis disposicioune,
And of the naturis of compleccyoune,
And in the diuerss changing of hwmowris.
Thus wnder reull lyith al there cwris;
And yhit thei far as blynd man In the way
Oft, quhen that deith thar craft lift to assay.
Bot god, the wich that is the soueran lech,
Nedith no maner medysyne to sech;
For ther is no Infyrmyte, nore wound,
Bot as hyme lykith al is holl and sound.
So can he heill Infyrmytee of thoght,
Wich that one erdly medesyne can noght;
And als the saul that to confusioune goith,
And haith with hyme and vther parteis boith,
His dedly wound god helyth frome the ground;
On to his cure no medysyne is found.
This Is his mycht that neuer more shall fyne,
This is the leich withouten medysyne;
And If that yhow at confessioune hath ben,
And makith the of al thi synnis clen,
Yow art than holl, and this ilk samyn is he
Schall be thi leich In al necessitee.