VELLEM AUTEM PAUCA. — Prosa 2
"Certes I wolde pleten with the a fewe thynges, usynge the
woordes of Fortune. Tak hede now thyselve, yif that sche asketh
ryght: 'O thow man, wherfore makestow me gyltyf by thyne
every dayes pleynynges? What wrong have I don the? What godes
have I byreft the that weren thyne? Stryf or pleet with me byforn
what juge that thow wolt of the possessioun of rychesses or of
dignytees; and yif thou maist schewen me that ever any mortel man
hath resceyved ony of tho thynges to ben hise in propre, thanne
wil I graunte freely that thilke thynges weren thyne whiche that
thow axest.
"Whan that nature brought the foorth out of thi modir
wombe, I resceyved the nakid and nedy of alle thynges, and I
norissched the with my richesses, and was redy and ententyf
thurwe my favour to sustene the — and that maketh the now
inpacient ayens me; and I envyrounde the with al the habundaunce
and schynynge of alle goodes that ben in my ryght. Now it liketh
me to withdrawe myn
hand. Thow hast had grace as he that hath used of foreyne goodes;
thow hast no ryght to pleyne the, as though thou haddest outrely
forlorn alle thy thynges. Why pleynestow thanne? I have doon the
no wrong. Richesses, honours, and swiche othere thinges ben of
my right. My servauntz knowen me for hir lady; they comen with
me, and departen whan I wende. I dar wel affermen hardely that,
yif tho thynges of whiche thow pleynest that thou hast forlorn
[hem] hadden ben thyne, thow ne haddest nat lorn hem. Schal I
thanne, oonly, be defended to usen my ryght?
"Certes it is leveful to the hevene to maken clere
dayes,
and after that to coveren tho same dayes with dirke nyghtes. The
yeer hath eek leve to apparaylen the visage of the erthe, now
with floures, and now with fruyt, and to confownden hem somtyme
with
reynes and with coldes. The see hath eek his ryght to ben somtyme
calm and blaundysschyng with smothe watir, and somtyme to ben
horrible with wawes and with tempestes. But the covetise of men,
that mai nat he stawnched — schal it bynde me to ben
stedfast, syn
that stidfastnesse is uncouth to my maneris? Swiche is my
strengthe, and this pley I pleye continuely. I torne the
whirlynge wheel with the turnynge sercle; I am glad to chaungen
the loweste to the heyeste, and the heyeste to the loweste. Worth
up yif thow wolt, so it be by this lawe, that thow ne holde nat
that I do the wroong, though thow descende adown whan the resoun
of my pley axeth it. Wystestow nat how Cresus, kyng of Lydyens,
of whiche kyng Cirus was ful sore agast a lytil byforn — that
this
rewliche Cresus was caught of Cirus and lad to the fyer to ben
brend; but that a rayn descendede down fro hevene that rescowyde
hym? And is it out of thy mynde how that Paulus, consul of Rome,
whan he had taken the kyng of Percyens, weep pitously for the
captivyte of the selve kyng? What other thynge bywaylen the
cryinges of tragedyes but oonly the dedes of Fortune, that with
an unwar strook overturneth the realmes of greet nobleye?
(Glose. Tragedye is to seyn a dite of a
prosperite for a
tyme, that endeth in wrecchidnesse.) Lernedest
nat thow in Greek whan thow were yong, that in the entre or in
the seler of Juppiter ther ben cowched two tonnes, the toon is
ful of good, and the tother is ful of harm? What ryght hastow to
pleyne, yif thou hast taken more plentevously of the gode side
(that is to seyn, of my richesses and
prosperites)? And what ek yif Y ne be nat al departed fro
the? What eek yif my mutabilite yeveth the ryghtful cause of hope
to han yit bettere thynges? Natheles dismaye the nat in thi
thought; and thow that art put in the comune realme of alle,
desire nat to lyven by thyn oonly propre ryght.
