Confessio Amantis [142]
to serve,
Which with hire chiere can deserve 2610
To be beloved betre ywiss
Than sche per cas that richest is
And hath of gold a Milion.
Such hath be myn opinion
And evere schal: bot natheles
I seie noght sche is haveles,
That sche nys riche and wel at ese,
And hath ynow wherwith to plese
Of worldes good whom that hire liste;
Bot o thing wolde I wel ye wiste, 2620
That nevere for no worldes good
Min herte untoward hire stod,
Bot only riht for pure love;
That wot the hihe god above.
Nou, fader, what seie ye therto?
Mi Sone, I seie it is wel do.
For tak of this riht good believe,
What man that wole himself relieve
To love in eny other wise,
He schal wel finde his coveitise 2630
Schal sore grieve him ate laste,
For such a love mai noght laste.
Bot nou, men sein, in oure daies
Men maken bot a fewe assaies,
Bot if the cause be richesse;
Forthi the love is wel the lesse.
And who that wolde ensamples telle,
Be olde daies as thei felle,
Than mihte a man wel understonde
Such love mai noght longe stonde. 2640
Now herkne, Sone, and thou schalt hiere
A gret ensample of this matiere.
To trete upon the cas of love,
So as we tolden hiere above,
I finde write a wonder thing.
Of Puile whilom was a king,
A man of hih complexioun
And yong, bot his affeccioun
After the nature of his age
Was yit noght falle in his corage 2650
The lust of wommen forto knowe.
So it betidde upon a throwe
This lord fell into gret seknesse:
Phisique hath don the besinesse
Of sondri cures manyon
To make him hol; and therupon
A worthi maister which ther was
Yaf him conseil upon this cas,
That if he wolde have parfit hele,
He scholde with a womman dele, 2660
A freissh, a yong, a lusti wiht,
To don him compaignie a nyht:
For thanne he seide him redily,
That he schal be al hol therby,
And otherwise he kneu no cure.
This king, which stod in aventure
Of lif and deth, for medicine
Assented was, and of covine
His Steward, whom he tristeth wel,
He tok, and tolde him everydel, 2670
Hou that this maister hadde seid:
And therupon he hath him preid
And charged upon his ligance,
That he do make porveance
Of such on as be covenable
For his plesance and delitable;
And bad him, hou that evere it stod,
That he schal spare for no good,
For his will is riht wel to paie.
The Steward seide he wolde assaie: 2680
Bot nou hierafter thou schalt wite,
As I finde in the bokes write,
What coveitise in love doth.
This Steward, forto telle soth,
Amonges al the men alyve
A lusti ladi hath to wyve,
Which natheles for gold he tok
And noght for love, as seith the bok.
A riche Marchant of the lond
Hir fader was, and hire fond 2690
So worthily, and such richesse
Of worldes good and such largesse
With hire he yaf in mariage,
That only for thilke avantage
Of good this Steward hath hire take,
For lucre and noght for loves sake,
And that was afterward wel seene;
Nou herkne what it wolde meene.
This Steward in his oghne herte
Sih that his lord mai noght asterte 2700
His maladie, bot he have
A lusti womman him to save,
And thoghte he wolde yive ynowh
Of his tresor; wherof he drowh
Gret coveitise into his mynde,
And sette his honour fer behynde.
Thus he, whom gold hath overset,
Was trapped in his oghne net;
The gold hath mad hise wittes lame,
So that sechende his oghne schame 2710
He rouneth in the kinges Ere,
And seide him that he wiste where
A gentile and a lusti on
Tho was, and thider wolde he gon:
Bot he mot yive yiftes grete;
For bot it be thurgh grete beyete
Of gold, he seith, he schal noght spede.
The king him bad upon the nede
That take an hundred pound he scholde,
And yive it where that he wolde, 2720
Be so it were in worthi place:
And thus to stonde in loves grace
This king his gold hath abandouned.
And whan this tale was full rouned,
The Steward tok the gold and wente,
Withinne his herte and many a wente
Of coveitise thanne he caste,
Wherof a pourpos ate laste
Ayein love and ayein his riht
He tok, and seide hou thilke nyht 2730
His wif schal ligge be the
Which with hire chiere can deserve 2610
To be beloved betre ywiss
Than sche per cas that richest is
And hath of gold a Milion.
Such hath be myn opinion
And evere schal: bot natheles
I seie noght sche is haveles,
That sche nys riche and wel at ese,
And hath ynow wherwith to plese
Of worldes good whom that hire liste;
Bot o thing wolde I wel ye wiste, 2620
That nevere for no worldes good
Min herte untoward hire stod,
Bot only riht for pure love;
That wot the hihe god above.
Nou, fader, what seie ye therto?
Mi Sone, I seie it is wel do.
For tak of this riht good believe,
What man that wole himself relieve
To love in eny other wise,
He schal wel finde his coveitise 2630
Schal sore grieve him ate laste,
For such a love mai noght laste.
Bot nou, men sein, in oure daies
Men maken bot a fewe assaies,
Bot if the cause be richesse;
Forthi the love is wel the lesse.
And who that wolde ensamples telle,
Be olde daies as thei felle,
Than mihte a man wel understonde
Such love mai noght longe stonde. 2640
Now herkne, Sone, and thou schalt hiere
A gret ensample of this matiere.
To trete upon the cas of love,
So as we tolden hiere above,
I finde write a wonder thing.
Of Puile whilom was a king,
A man of hih complexioun
And yong, bot his affeccioun
After the nature of his age
Was yit noght falle in his corage 2650
The lust of wommen forto knowe.
So it betidde upon a throwe
This lord fell into gret seknesse:
Phisique hath don the besinesse
Of sondri cures manyon
To make him hol; and therupon
A worthi maister which ther was
Yaf him conseil upon this cas,
That if he wolde have parfit hele,
He scholde with a womman dele, 2660
A freissh, a yong, a lusti wiht,
To don him compaignie a nyht:
For thanne he seide him redily,
That he schal be al hol therby,
And otherwise he kneu no cure.
This king, which stod in aventure
Of lif and deth, for medicine
Assented was, and of covine
His Steward, whom he tristeth wel,
He tok, and tolde him everydel, 2670
Hou that this maister hadde seid:
And therupon he hath him preid
And charged upon his ligance,
That he do make porveance
Of such on as be covenable
For his plesance and delitable;
And bad him, hou that evere it stod,
That he schal spare for no good,
For his will is riht wel to paie.
The Steward seide he wolde assaie: 2680
Bot nou hierafter thou schalt wite,
As I finde in the bokes write,
What coveitise in love doth.
This Steward, forto telle soth,
Amonges al the men alyve
A lusti ladi hath to wyve,
Which natheles for gold he tok
And noght for love, as seith the bok.
A riche Marchant of the lond
Hir fader was, and hire fond 2690
So worthily, and such richesse
Of worldes good and such largesse
With hire he yaf in mariage,
That only for thilke avantage
Of good this Steward hath hire take,
For lucre and noght for loves sake,
And that was afterward wel seene;
Nou herkne what it wolde meene.
This Steward in his oghne herte
Sih that his lord mai noght asterte 2700
His maladie, bot he have
A lusti womman him to save,
And thoghte he wolde yive ynowh
Of his tresor; wherof he drowh
Gret coveitise into his mynde,
And sette his honour fer behynde.
Thus he, whom gold hath overset,
Was trapped in his oghne net;
The gold hath mad hise wittes lame,
So that sechende his oghne schame 2710
He rouneth in the kinges Ere,
And seide him that he wiste where
A gentile and a lusti on
Tho was, and thider wolde he gon:
Bot he mot yive yiftes grete;
For bot it be thurgh grete beyete
Of gold, he seith, he schal noght spede.
The king him bad upon the nede
That take an hundred pound he scholde,
And yive it where that he wolde, 2720
Be so it were in worthi place:
And thus to stonde in loves grace
This king his gold hath abandouned.
And whan this tale was full rouned,
The Steward tok the gold and wente,
Withinne his herte and many a wente
Of coveitise thanne he caste,
Wherof a pourpos ate laste
Ayein love and ayein his riht
He tok, and seide hou thilke nyht 2730
His wif schal ligge be the