Confessio Amantis [123]
him fet,
His disch, his coppe, his drinke, his mete;
Bot whanne he wolde or drinke or ete,
Anon as it his mouth cam nyh,
It was al gold, and thanne he syh
Of Avarice the folie.
And he with that began to crie, 290
And preide Bachus to foryive
His gilt, and soffre him forto live
And be such as he was tofore,
So that he were not forlore.
This god, which herde of his grevance,
Tok rowthe upon his repentance,
And bad him go forth redily
Unto a flod was faste by,
Which Paceole thanne hyhte,
In which as clene as evere he myhte 300
He scholde him waisshen overal,
And seide him thanne that he schal
Recovere his ferste astat ayein.
This king, riht as he herde sein,
Into the flod goth fro the lond,
And wissh him bothe fot and hond,
And so forth al the remenant,
As him was set in covenant:
And thanne he syh merveilles strange,
The flod his colour gan to change, 310
The gravel with the smale Stones
To gold thei torne bothe at ones,
And he was quit of that he hadde,
And thus fortune his chance ladde.
And whan he sih his touche aweie,
He goth him hom the rihte weie
And liveth forth as he dede er,
And putte al Avarice afer,
And the richesse of gold despiseth,
And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth. 320
Thus hath this king experience
Hou foles don the reverence
To gold, which of his oghne kinde
Is lasse worth than is the rinde
To sustienance of mannes fode;
And thanne he made lawes goode
And al his thing sette upon skile:
He bad his poeple forto tile
Here lond, and live under the lawe,
And that thei scholde also forthdrawe 330
Bestaile, and seche non encress
Of gold, which is the breche of pes.
For this a man mai finde write,
Tofor the time, er gold was smite
In Coign, that men the florin knewe,
Ther was welnyh noman untrewe;
Tho was ther nouther schield ne spere
Ne dedly wepne forto bere;
Tho was the toun withoute wal,
Which nou is closed overal; 340
Tho was ther no brocage in londe,
Which nou takth every cause on honde:
So mai men knowe, hou the florin
Was moder ferst of malengin
And bringere inne of alle werre,
Wherof this world stant out of herre
Thurgh the conseil of Avarice,
Which of his oghne propre vice
Is as the helle wonderfull;
For it mai neveremor be full, 350
That what as evere comth therinne,
Awey ne may it nevere winne.
Bot Sone myn, do thou noght so,
Let al such Avarice go,
And tak thi part of that thou hast:
I bidde noght that thou do wast,
Bot hold largesce in his mesure;
And if thou se a creature,
Which thurgh poverte is falle in nede,
Yif him som good, for this I rede 360
To him that wol noght yiven here,
What peine he schal have elleswhere.
Ther is a peine amonges alle
Benethe in helle, which men calle
The wofull peine of Tantaly,
Of which I schal thee redely
Devise hou men therinne stonde.
In helle, thou schalt understonde,
Ther is a flod of thilke office,
Which serveth al for Avarice: 370
What man that stonde schal therinne,
He stant up evene unto the chinne;
Above his hed also ther hongeth
A fruyt, which to that peine longeth,
And that fruit toucheth evere in on
His overlippe: and therupon
Swich thurst and hunger him assaileth,
That nevere his appetit ne faileth.
Bot whanne he wolde his hunger fede,
The fruit withdrawth him ate nede, 380
And thogh he heve his hed on hyh,
The fruit is evere aliche nyh,
So is the hunger wel the more:
And also, thogh him thurste sore
And to the water bowe a doun,
The flod in such condicioun
Avaleth, that his drinke areche
He mai noght. Lo nou, which a wreche,
That mete and drinke is him so couth,
And yit ther comth non in his mouth! 390
Lich to the peines of this flod
Stant Avarice in worldes good:
He hath ynowh and yit him nedeth,
For his skarsnesse it him forbiedeth,
And evere his hunger after more
Travaileth him aliche sore,
So is he peined overal.
Forthi thi goodes forth withal,
Mi Sone, loke thou despende,
Wherof thou myht thiself amende 400
Bothe hier and ek in other place.
And also if thou wolt pourchace
To be beloved, thou most use
His disch, his coppe, his drinke, his mete;
Bot whanne he wolde or drinke or ete,
Anon as it his mouth cam nyh,
It was al gold, and thanne he syh
Of Avarice the folie.
And he with that began to crie, 290
And preide Bachus to foryive
His gilt, and soffre him forto live
And be such as he was tofore,
So that he were not forlore.
This god, which herde of his grevance,
Tok rowthe upon his repentance,
And bad him go forth redily
Unto a flod was faste by,
Which Paceole thanne hyhte,
In which as clene as evere he myhte 300
He scholde him waisshen overal,
And seide him thanne that he schal
Recovere his ferste astat ayein.
This king, riht as he herde sein,
Into the flod goth fro the lond,
And wissh him bothe fot and hond,
And so forth al the remenant,
As him was set in covenant:
And thanne he syh merveilles strange,
The flod his colour gan to change, 310
The gravel with the smale Stones
To gold thei torne bothe at ones,
And he was quit of that he hadde,
And thus fortune his chance ladde.
And whan he sih his touche aweie,
He goth him hom the rihte weie
And liveth forth as he dede er,
And putte al Avarice afer,
And the richesse of gold despiseth,
And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth. 320
Thus hath this king experience
Hou foles don the reverence
To gold, which of his oghne kinde
Is lasse worth than is the rinde
To sustienance of mannes fode;
And thanne he made lawes goode
And al his thing sette upon skile:
He bad his poeple forto tile
Here lond, and live under the lawe,
And that thei scholde also forthdrawe 330
Bestaile, and seche non encress
Of gold, which is the breche of pes.
For this a man mai finde write,
Tofor the time, er gold was smite
In Coign, that men the florin knewe,
Ther was welnyh noman untrewe;
Tho was ther nouther schield ne spere
Ne dedly wepne forto bere;
Tho was the toun withoute wal,
Which nou is closed overal; 340
Tho was ther no brocage in londe,
Which nou takth every cause on honde:
So mai men knowe, hou the florin
Was moder ferst of malengin
And bringere inne of alle werre,
Wherof this world stant out of herre
Thurgh the conseil of Avarice,
Which of his oghne propre vice
Is as the helle wonderfull;
For it mai neveremor be full, 350
That what as evere comth therinne,
Awey ne may it nevere winne.
Bot Sone myn, do thou noght so,
Let al such Avarice go,
And tak thi part of that thou hast:
I bidde noght that thou do wast,
Bot hold largesce in his mesure;
And if thou se a creature,
Which thurgh poverte is falle in nede,
Yif him som good, for this I rede 360
To him that wol noght yiven here,
What peine he schal have elleswhere.
Ther is a peine amonges alle
Benethe in helle, which men calle
The wofull peine of Tantaly,
Of which I schal thee redely
Devise hou men therinne stonde.
In helle, thou schalt understonde,
Ther is a flod of thilke office,
Which serveth al for Avarice: 370
What man that stonde schal therinne,
He stant up evene unto the chinne;
Above his hed also ther hongeth
A fruyt, which to that peine longeth,
And that fruit toucheth evere in on
His overlippe: and therupon
Swich thurst and hunger him assaileth,
That nevere his appetit ne faileth.
Bot whanne he wolde his hunger fede,
The fruit withdrawth him ate nede, 380
And thogh he heve his hed on hyh,
The fruit is evere aliche nyh,
So is the hunger wel the more:
And also, thogh him thurste sore
And to the water bowe a doun,
The flod in such condicioun
Avaleth, that his drinke areche
He mai noght. Lo nou, which a wreche,
That mete and drinke is him so couth,
And yit ther comth non in his mouth! 390
Lich to the peines of this flod
Stant Avarice in worldes good:
He hath ynowh and yit him nedeth,
For his skarsnesse it him forbiedeth,
And evere his hunger after more
Travaileth him aliche sore,
So is he peined overal.
Forthi thi goodes forth withal,
Mi Sone, loke thou despende,
Wherof thou myht thiself amende 400
Bothe hier and ek in other place.
And also if thou wolt pourchace
To be beloved, thou most use