Confessio Amantis [121]
in the plowh,
Of that himself hath no profit;
A Schep riht in the same plit
His wolle berth, bot on a day
An other takth the flees away:
Thus hath he, that he noght ne hath,
For he therof his part ne tath.
To seie hou such a man hath good,
Who so that reson understod, 50
It is impropreliche seid,
For good hath him and halt him teid,
That he ne gladeth noght withal,
Bot is unto his good a thral,
And as soubgit thus serveth he,
Wher that he scholde maister be:
Such is the kinde of thaverous.
Mi Sone, as thou art amerous,
Tell if thou farst of love so.
Mi fader, as it semeth, no; 60
That averous yit nevere I was,
So as ye setten me the cas:
For as ye tolden here above,
In full possession of love
Yit was I nevere hier tofore,
So that me thenketh wel therfore,
I mai excuse wel my dede.
Bot of mi will withoute drede,
If I that tresor mihte gete,
It scholde nevere be foryete, 70
That I ne wolde it faste holde,
Til god of love himselve wolde
That deth ous scholde part atuo.
For lieveth wel, I love hire so,
That evene with min oghne lif,
If I that swete lusti wif
Mihte ones welden at my wille,
For evere I wolde hire holde stille:
And in this wise, taketh kepe,
If I hire hadde, I wolde hire kepe, 80
And yit no friday wolde I faste,
Thogh I hire kepte and hielde faste.
Fy on the bagges in the kiste!
I hadde ynogh, if I hire kiste.
For certes, if sche were myn,
I hadde hir levere than a Myn
Of Gold; for al this worldesriche
Ne mihte make me so riche
As sche, that is so inly good.
I sette noght of other good; 90
For mihte I gete such a thing,
I hadde a tresor for a king;
And thogh I wolde it faste holde,
I were thanne wel beholde.
Bot I mot pipe nou with lasse,
And suffre that it overpasse,
Noght with mi will, for thus I wolde
Ben averous, if that I scholde.
Bot, fader, I you herde seie
Hou thaverous hath yit som weie, 100
Wherof he mai be glad; for he
Mai whanne him list his tresor se,
And grope and fiele it al aboute,
Bot I fulofte am schet theroute,
Ther as my worthi tresor is.
So is mi lif lich unto this,
That ye me tolden hier tofore,
Hou that an Oxe his yock hath bore
For thing that scholde him noght availe:
And in this wise I me travaile; 110
For who that evere hath the welfare,
I wot wel that I have the care,
For I am hadd and noght ne have,
And am, as who seith, loves knave.
Nou demeth in youre oghne thoght,
If this be Avarice or noght.
Mi Sone, I have of thee no wonder,
Thogh thou to serve be put under
With love, which to kinde acordeth:
Bot, so as every bok recordeth, 120
It is to kinde no plesance
That man above his sustienance
Unto the gold schal serve and bowe,
For that mai no reson avowe.
Bot Avarice natheles,
If he mai geten his encress
Of gold, that wole he serve and kepe,
For he takth of noght elles kepe,
Bot forto fille hise bagges large;
And al is to him bot a charge, 130
For he ne parteth noght withal,
Bot kepth it, as a servant schal:
And thus, thogh that he multeplie
His gold, withoute tresorie
He is, for man is noght amended
With gold, bot if it be despended
To mannes us; wherof I rede
A tale, and tak therof good hiede,
Of that befell be olde tyde,
As telleth ous the clerk Ovide. 140
Bachus, which is the god of wyn,
Acordant unto his divin
A Prest, the which Cillenus hihte,
He hadde, and fell so that be nyhte
This Prest was drunke and goth astraied,
Wherof the men were evele apaied
In Frigelond, where as he wente.
Bot ate laste a cherl him hente
With strengthe of other felaschipe,
So that upon his drunkeschipe 150
Thei bounden him with chenes faste,
And forth thei ladde him als so faste
Unto the king, which hihte Myde.
Bot he, that wolde his vice hyde,
This courteis king, tok of him hiede,
And bad that men him scholde lede
Into a chambre forto kepe,
Til he of leisir hadde slepe.
And tho this Prest was sone unbounde,
And up a couche fro the grounde 160
To slepe he was leid softe ynowh;
And whanne he wok, the king him drowh
To his presence and dede him chiere,
So that
Of that himself hath no profit;
A Schep riht in the same plit
His wolle berth, bot on a day
An other takth the flees away:
Thus hath he, that he noght ne hath,
For he therof his part ne tath.
To seie hou such a man hath good,
Who so that reson understod, 50
It is impropreliche seid,
For good hath him and halt him teid,
That he ne gladeth noght withal,
Bot is unto his good a thral,
And as soubgit thus serveth he,
Wher that he scholde maister be:
Such is the kinde of thaverous.
Mi Sone, as thou art amerous,
Tell if thou farst of love so.
Mi fader, as it semeth, no; 60
That averous yit nevere I was,
So as ye setten me the cas:
For as ye tolden here above,
In full possession of love
Yit was I nevere hier tofore,
So that me thenketh wel therfore,
I mai excuse wel my dede.
Bot of mi will withoute drede,
If I that tresor mihte gete,
It scholde nevere be foryete, 70
That I ne wolde it faste holde,
Til god of love himselve wolde
That deth ous scholde part atuo.
For lieveth wel, I love hire so,
That evene with min oghne lif,
If I that swete lusti wif
Mihte ones welden at my wille,
For evere I wolde hire holde stille:
And in this wise, taketh kepe,
If I hire hadde, I wolde hire kepe, 80
And yit no friday wolde I faste,
Thogh I hire kepte and hielde faste.
Fy on the bagges in the kiste!
I hadde ynogh, if I hire kiste.
For certes, if sche were myn,
I hadde hir levere than a Myn
Of Gold; for al this worldesriche
Ne mihte make me so riche
As sche, that is so inly good.
I sette noght of other good; 90
For mihte I gete such a thing,
I hadde a tresor for a king;
And thogh I wolde it faste holde,
I were thanne wel beholde.
Bot I mot pipe nou with lasse,
And suffre that it overpasse,
Noght with mi will, for thus I wolde
Ben averous, if that I scholde.
Bot, fader, I you herde seie
Hou thaverous hath yit som weie, 100
Wherof he mai be glad; for he
Mai whanne him list his tresor se,
And grope and fiele it al aboute,
Bot I fulofte am schet theroute,
Ther as my worthi tresor is.
So is mi lif lich unto this,
That ye me tolden hier tofore,
Hou that an Oxe his yock hath bore
For thing that scholde him noght availe:
And in this wise I me travaile; 110
For who that evere hath the welfare,
I wot wel that I have the care,
For I am hadd and noght ne have,
And am, as who seith, loves knave.
Nou demeth in youre oghne thoght,
If this be Avarice or noght.
Mi Sone, I have of thee no wonder,
Thogh thou to serve be put under
With love, which to kinde acordeth:
Bot, so as every bok recordeth, 120
It is to kinde no plesance
That man above his sustienance
Unto the gold schal serve and bowe,
For that mai no reson avowe.
Bot Avarice natheles,
If he mai geten his encress
Of gold, that wole he serve and kepe,
For he takth of noght elles kepe,
Bot forto fille hise bagges large;
And al is to him bot a charge, 130
For he ne parteth noght withal,
Bot kepth it, as a servant schal:
And thus, thogh that he multeplie
His gold, withoute tresorie
He is, for man is noght amended
With gold, bot if it be despended
To mannes us; wherof I rede
A tale, and tak therof good hiede,
Of that befell be olde tyde,
As telleth ous the clerk Ovide. 140
Bachus, which is the god of wyn,
Acordant unto his divin
A Prest, the which Cillenus hihte,
He hadde, and fell so that be nyhte
This Prest was drunke and goth astraied,
Wherof the men were evele apaied
In Frigelond, where as he wente.
Bot ate laste a cherl him hente
With strengthe of other felaschipe,
So that upon his drunkeschipe 150
Thei bounden him with chenes faste,
And forth thei ladde him als so faste
Unto the king, which hihte Myde.
Bot he, that wolde his vice hyde,
This courteis king, tok of him hiede,
And bad that men him scholde lede
Into a chambre forto kepe,
Til he of leisir hadde slepe.
And tho this Prest was sone unbounde,
And up a couche fro the grounde 160
To slepe he was leid softe ynowh;
And whanne he wok, the king him drowh
To his presence and dede him chiere,
So that