University of Virginia Library

[Prologus.]

And as I passid in my preiere þer prestis were at messe,
In a blessid borugh þat Bristow is named,
In a temple of þe trinite þe toune euen amyddis,
That Cristis Chirche is cleped amonge þe comune peple,
Sodeynly þer sourdid selcouþe þingis,
A grett wondir to wyse men as it well myȝth,
And dowtes for to deme for drede comynge after.
So sore were þe sawis of bothe two sidis,
Of Richard þat regned so riche and so noble,
That wyle he werrid be west on þe wilde Yrisshe,
Henrri was entrid on þe est half,
Whom all þe londe loued in lengþe and in brede,
And rosse with him rapely to riȝtyn his wronge,
For he shullde hem serue of þe same after.
Thus tales me troblid for þey trewe where,
And amarride my mynde rith moche and my wittis eke:
For it passid my parceit and my preifis also,
How so wondirffull werkis wolde haue an ende.
But in sothe whan þey sembled some dede repeute,
As knowyn is in cumpas of Cristen londis,
That rewthe was, if reson ne had reffourmed
The myssecheff & þe mysserule þat men þo in endurid.
I had pete of his passion þat prince was of Walis,
And eke oure crouned kynge till Crist wol[de] no lenger;
And as a [liage] to his [lord] þouȝ I lite hade,
All myn hoole herte was his while he in helthe regnid.
And for I [wuste] not witterly what shulde fall,
Whedir God wolde [g]eue him grace sone to amende,
To be oure gioure a[g]eyn or graunte it anoþer,
This made me to muse many tyme and ofte,
For to written him a writte to wissen him better,
And to meuve him of mysserewle his mynde to reffresshe
For to [preie] þe prynce þat paradise made,
To fullfill him with feith and fortune aboue,
And not to grucchen a grott aȝeine Godis sonde,
But mekely to suffre what-so him sente were.
And ȝif him list to loke a leef oþer tweyne,
That made is to mende him of his myssededis,
And to kepe him in confforte in Crist and nouȝt ellis,
I wolde be gladde þat his gost myȝte glade be my wordis,
And grame if it greued him be God þat me bouȝte!
And euery Cristen kyng þat ony [croune] bereth,
So he were lerned on þe langage my lyff durst I wedde,
Ȝif he waite well þe wordis and so werche þer-after,
[Ther nys no gouernour on þe grounde ne sholde gye him þe better,]
For all is tresour of þe trinite þat turneth men to gode.
And as my body & my beste oute to be my liegis,
So rithffully be reson my rede shuld also,
For to conceill, and I couȝthe my kyng and þe lordis;
And þer-for I [fondyd] with all my fyue wyttis
To traueile on þis tretis to teche men þer-after
To be war of wylffulnesse lest wondris arise.
And if it happe to ȝoure honde beholde þe book onys,
And redeth on him redely rewis an hundrid,
And if ȝe sauere sum-dell se it forth ouere,
For reson is no repreff be þe rode of Chester!
And if ȝe fynde fables or foly þer amonge,
Or ony fantasie yffeyned þat no frute is in,
Lete ȝoure conceill corette it and clerkis to-gedyr,
And amende þat ys amysse and make it more better:
For ȝit it is secrette and so it shall lenger,
Tyll wyser wittis han waytid it ouere,
That it be lore laweffull and lusty to here.
For witterly, my will is þat it well liked
Ȝou and all ȝouris and yonge men leueste,
To be-nyme hem her noyes þat neweth hem ofte.
For and þey mvse þeron to þe myddwardis,
They shall fele fawtis foure score and odde,
That yough[th]e weneth alwey þat it be witt euere.
And þouȝ þat elde opyn it oþer-while amonge,
And poure on it preuyly and preue it well after,
And constrewe ich clause with þe culorum,
It shulde not apeire hem a peere a prynce þouȝ he were,
Ne harme noþer hurte þe hyghest of þe rewme,
But to holde him in hele and helpe all his frendis.
And if ony word write be þat wrothe make myghte
My souereyne, þat suget I shulde to be,
I put me in his power and preie him, of grace,
To take þe entent of my trouþe þat thouȝte non ylle,
For to wrath no wyght be my wyll neuere,
As my soule be saff from synne at myn ende.
Þe story is of non estate þat stryuen with her lustus,
But þo þat folwyn her flessh and here frelle þouȝtis;
So if my conceyll be clere I can saie no more,
But ho be greued in his gost gouerne him better,
And blame not þe berne þat þe book made,
But þe wickyd will and þe werkis after.