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It nedeth noght that I delate
The pris which preised is algate,

Hic tractat de quarta Principum regiminis Policia, que Pietas dicta est; per quam Principes erga populum misericordes effectimisericordiam altissimi gracius consequuntur.

And hath ben evere and evere schal,

Wherof to speke in special,
It is the vertu of Pite,
Thurgh which the hihe mageste
Was stered, whan his Sone alyhte,
And in pite the world to rihte
Tok of the Maide fleissh and blod.
Pite was cause of thilke good,
Wherof that we ben alle save:
Wel oghte a man Pite to have
And the vertu to sette in pris,
Whan he himself which is al wys
Hath schewed why it schal be preised.
Pite may noght be conterpeised
Of tirannie with no peis;
For Pite makth a king courteis
Bothe in his word and in his dede.
It sit wel every liege drede
His king and to his heste obeie,
And riht so be the same weie
It sit a king to be pitous
Toward his people and gracious
Upon the reule of governance,
So that he worche no vengance,
Which mai be cleped crualte.
Justice which doth equite
Is dredfull, for he noman spareth;
Bot in the lond wher Pite fareth
The king mai nevere faile of love,
For Pite thurgh the grace above,
So as the Philosophre affermeth,

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His regne in good astat confermeth.
Thus seide whilom Constantin:

Constantinus Imperator ait: ‘Vere se dominum esse comprobat, qui seruum pietatis se facit.’


‘What Emperour that is enclin

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To Pite forto be servant,
Of al the worldes remenant
He is worthi to ben a lord.’

Troianus ait, quod ipse subditos suos solite pietatis fauore magis quam austeritatis rigore regere, eorumque benevolenciam pocius quam timorem penes se attractare proponebat.

In olde bokes of record

This finde I write of essamplaire:
Troian the worthi debonaire,
Be whom that Rome stod governed,
Upon a time as he was lerned
Of that he was to familier,
He seide unto that conseiller,
That forto ben an Emperour
His will was noght for vein honour,
Ne yit for reddour of justice;
Bot if he myhte in his office
Hise lordes and his poeple plese,
Him thoghte it were a grettere ese
With love here hertes to him drawe,
Than with the drede of eny lawe.
For whan a thing is do for doute,
Fulofte it comth the worse aboute;
Bot wher a king is Pietous,
He is the more gracious,
That mochel thrift him schal betyde,
Which elles scholde torne aside.