Lydgate's Fall of Princes :: :: University of Virginia Library

Nature þat is content with litil thyng,
The wise, war, þe circumspect goddesse,
Which vnder God in heuen aboue regnyng,
This world to gouerne is callid themperesse,
Mooder of richessis, the first founderesse,
Which cerchid out bi hir artificeres
The straunge tresours hid in the myneres.

This noble ladi, this princesse most famous,
Knowyng of man thunkouth condiciouns,
Sauh bexperience richessis wer noious,—
In hym teclipse the disposiciouns,
And conveie his inclynaciouns
Bi a wrong weie vertu to sette aside,
How couetise was a ful pereilous guide.

448

For auarise, to al vertu contraire,
The gredi werm, the serpent vnstaunchable,
Man to be-traisshe with promyses debonaire,
At prime face soote and agreable,
Tauht hym of nature bi craft most deceyuable,
Thoruh sotil serchyng, as it wer for the nonys,
First out of erthe to delue precious stonis.

Of riche myneris thei serche the entrailles,
To fynde out metallis for worldli auauntages,
Contryued shippis with ther brode sailles
Bi dyuers sees to make ther passages.
And couetise ordeyned first viages,
Caused princis ride in londis ferre,
Ech ageyn other for to gynne a werre.

Off auarice gan first thes robberies,
Await of brigauntis and al extort pillages,
Moordre, slauhtre & couert briberies,
Of old contreuid, furious fel damages,
Wrouht and acheuid in al maner ages.
Now in thes daies, lat set it at a preeff,
Fals couetise caused al swich myscheeff.

She was first roote of fals extorsioun,
To spoile the peeple, mooder of rauyne,
And sterere up of oppressioun:
To take bi force, this was hir doctrine.
And as myn auctour doth pleynli determyne
And concludeth in ful pitous wise,
Roote of al euil is fals couetise.

She was eek norice of contek & of striff,
Maistresse of moordre and wilful violence,
Maad men to iuparte boodi, good & lyff,
Caused discencioun and disobedience,
Gruchchyng of comouns, withdrauht of reuerence,
Bi rigerous constreynt sodeyn rebelliouns,
Rumour in rewmys, unwar subuersiouns.

449

This froward dragoun ful of idropesie,
Whos fretyng etik ther may no plente feede,
To staunche his thrust ther is no remedie:
The mor he drynketh, the mor he hath ay neede;
And the mor tresour, the mor he stant in dreede,
With Tantalus thouh he swymme in the floodis,
In Migdas well pleyneth for lak of goodis.

This werm eek causeth that men in ther richesse
Haue dreed of theuys a-nyht in ther wakyng;
And yif thei heere on coffre, bed or presse,
Cat, rat or mous, or any werm meuyng,
He weneth anon, withynne hymsilf deemyng,
That ther wer kome, with gret apparaille,
Sum vnkouth pilour his tresour to assaille.

The woful soule stondeth euere in dreede,
And ay abideth in labour & trauaille,
And of the goodis, which he doth posseede,
Fallith in dispeir list thei wolde hym faille.
Tween hope and dreed ther is swich a bataille,
Thoruh entermynyng ech other to confounde,
To be most gredi whan thei most habounde.

Hope vnassurid with dreed[e] disespeired
Meetyng in hertes make a ful mortal werre.
Whan hope presumeth, with dreed he is appeired,
And lik a coward makith hym stonde aferre,
Dul of his cheer as is a cloudi sterre,
Which dar nat shewe the liht of his tresour,
But euer tencrece set hooli his labour.

He thar nat touche thyng that he loueth most,
His cofres cloos be shet so vndir keye,
Thouh he hath mekil, he makth therof no bost,
Lest for his tresour men wolde hym werreie,—
Pleyneth for neede, lik as he wolde deie,

450

Feyneth fals pouert to sparen his dispence,
Oppressyng plente with froward indigence.

And thouh his chestis happid be with gold,
With iren barris faste shet & closid,
Fals scarsete gouerneth his houshold,
That be non excesse he is nat vndisposid,
His indigent herte so streihtli is enosid
To Herebus heir; and yit weel wers in deede,
In grettest richesse to compleyne vpon neede.

This Herebus hath of iren, nat of ston,
For auarice bilt a foul cite,
Wher-as the wheel tourneth off Ixion
Vndir the boundis of Thesiphone,
Wher Zeziphus may neuer a day go fre,
But with his ston contynuelli trauaileth,
And the mor besi, his labour lest auaileth.

Thus auarice, to ve[r]tu most contrarie,
Founde among vices ful contagious,
Euer bisi the restles ston to karie,
Now up, now doun, with weri Zeziphus,
Whos endles labour braideth on Theseus,
Which heeld the bridel of frutles bisynesse,
Condempned in helle to lyue in idilnesse.

Off couetise the cruel maryner
Is callid C[h]aron, whiche with Flegonte,
Bi many a streiht & many fel daungeer
Sailleth in the floodis of furious Acheronte,
Vnder that dirked and cloudi orizonte,
Wher auarice ches whilom nigardshipe
For tresoureer his cofres for to keepe.

First to declare the labour in gadryng
Of coueitous men, as it is in deede,
And countirpeise how ther streiht keepyng
Is euer meynt with importable dreede,
Sorwe at departyng, for ther mortal meede,
Which may be callid, of trouthe & equite,
Of Cerberus the wakir hedis thre.

451

The firste hed is vnstaunchable desir
Off worldli goodis gret richessis to atteyne,
The mor encres, the hatter is the fyr;
The seconde hed is the dreedful peyne,
Which in keepyng, his herte doth constreyne;
Vnwar departyng, that sodenli doth falle,
Is the thridde hed, that greueth most of all.

This waker werm, that berth these hedis thre,
Is callid the werm of gredi couetise,
Whos bisi constreynt, restles perplexite
Troubleþ the soule in ful furious wise.
Which froward monstre, pleynli to deuise,
Braideth on Idra, of whom poetis seyn,
On hed kit of, ther growe thre ageyn.

Euere at the tail of plente and richesse
Of custum folweth gruchchyng & envie;
For he that hath of tresour gret richesse
Is seelde glad, as for his partie.
Thus bothe tweyne stonde in iupartie:
The riche with plente halt hym nat appaied,
And the nedi with pouert is affraied.

And yit in pouert is ful gret sekirnesse,
Which is a tresour that no man wil assaille.
And as myn auctour Bochas berth witnesse,
Amyclates among[es] the poraille
Leued in pes, seur from al bataille,
Heeld hym content with swich as God hym sente,
Whan riche wer armyd & to the werre wente.

Vertuous pouert stant euer in sekir caas,
To wach his hous [he] hath ful litil neede;
But proude Pompeie assegid in Duras,
For feer of Iulius stood in gret[e] dreede.
But peeplis rude take heerof non heede,—
Swich as reioysshe hem for to sheede blood,
In straunge werris wrongli to gete good.

Stories olde ful weel reherse kunne
Diuers studies of folkis heer mortal,
First how Diogenes was content in his tonne,
In which he made his loggyng pryncepal,

452

And sauh the cours aboue celestial,
Lyued gladdere amonges philisophres,
Than kyng Cresus, with al his stuffed coffres.

And yiff men wolde onto mynde call
The grete myscheuys folwyng on habundance,
And thynk[e] also how Sardanapall,
For al his tresour, kam [un]to myschaunce,
And how Sophodius, porest in substaunce,
Hadde but a gardyn ful of leekis greene,
And riht nouht ellis hymseluen to susteene.

This philisophre was euer glad & liht;
Ther was no wach maad aboute his tour[e]s.
Ful seurli slept he al the longe niht,
Hauyng no dreed of theuys ne robbour[e]s.
In somer walkyng among the fressh[e] flour[e]s,
And in cold wyntir, ful myrili & ofte
On drye strauh he lay and slepte softe.

Cyncynatus, a poore laboreer,
Fowede dikes to gete his sustenaunce,
Withoute gruchchyng, euere glad of cheer
Bothe in his port & in his contenaunce,
Dempte he hadde as moche suffisance
To his plesaunce, as Cresus kyng of Lide;
Content with litil; Nature was his guyde.

This poore man, in his pouert assurid,
With litil foode, & clothes but a fewe,
Hadde hertis ese & gladsum pes recurid;
It liked hym nat ouer his hed to hewe.
Which thyng conceyued cleerli doth us shewe,
That ioious pouert conueied with gladnesse,
Gruchchyng auoided, surmounteth al richesse.

And yif that folk koude considre a-riht
Ther pitous sihhes, ther thouhtful bisynesses,
Ther woful labours, ther litil slep aniht,
Which thei endure for worldli fals richessis,
And of thabidyng, the dreedful sekirnessis,—

453

Which thynges peised and callid to memorie:
Al erthli poweer is double & transitorie.

And bi stories, which that be credible,
To preue ther poweer is nat abidyng,
But, at a poynt, slydyng and fallible:
Whilom Masmyssa of Munydie kyng,
That was so mihti, bi record of writyng,
For feer of Siphax, onli his liff to saue,
Fledde into mounteyns & hidde hym in a caue.

And ther he fond[e] but ful smal vitaille,
Constreyned narwe of indigence & neede,
Whan other deyntes, in myscheeff, gan hym faille,
He gadred rootis and eet hem in his dreede;
Eek proude Xerses kyng of Perse and Mede
Drank blood and water to staunche his gredi thrust,
Dreed and trauaille gaff hym so gret a lust.

Yit summe men wolde seyn, of auenture
Thei wer compellid ageyn ther volunte,
Thes kynges tweyne, swich myscheeff to endure,
Maugre ther wil[le], of necessite;
For casuel chauns rafft hem ther liberte,
So that the rigour off this sodeyn rage
Cam in be constreynt, and of no corage.

But for al that, folk in ther pouerte
On grete metis that hemseluen feede
Ben also strong, as hool and fair to see,
And also lusti preuid at a neede,
Vpriht of lymes ther iournes for to speede,
As long lyued, the cause to expresse,
Is onli this: thei do non excesse.

To poore men the beste medecyne
Is due labour with moderat abstynence,
Good hair in feeldis whan Phebus list to shyne,
Voidyng dirke mystis that cause pestilence;
Of heuy stomak thei feele no violence,

454

Thei nat enriche lechis nor poticaries,
Themsilff to saue with vnkouth letuaries.

But folkis riche werkyn the contrarie,
Which in hem causeth malladies stronge;
For ther diet[e] eueri day thei varie
With dyuers metis, and ther sittyng longe.
And with al this, ther appetitis wronge,
Take out of tyme, which thei may nat endure,
Which bi custum oppressith ther nature.

And thus myn auctour, shortli to deuise,
Seith how glad pouert stant most in sekirnesse.
And of al euel, he seith, how couetise
Is roote & ground, with fals extort richesse,
Riot annexid, engendryng gret siknesse,
Theron concludyng, how moderat diete
Set soule and bodi in temporat quiete.