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Bot what thing danger mai amonte

I wot wel, for I have assaied;

For whan myn herte is best arraied

And I have al my wit thurghsoght

Of love to beseche hire oght,

For al that evere I skile may,

I am concluded with a nay:

That o sillable hath overthrowe

A thousend wordes on a rowe 2050

Of suche as I best speke can;

Thus am I bot a lewed man.

Bot, fader, for ye ben a clerk

Of love, and this matiere is derk,

And I can evere leng the lasse,

Bot yit I mai noght let it passe,

Youre hole conseil I beseche,

That ye me be som weie teche

What is my beste, as for an ende.

Mi Sone, unto the trouthe wende 2060

Now wol I for the love of thee,

And lete alle othre truffles be.

The more that the nede is hyh,

The more it nedeth to be slyh

To him which hath the nede on honde.

I have wel herd and understonde,

Mi Sone, al that thou hast me seid,

And ek of that thou hast me preid,

Nou at this time that I schal

As for conclusioun final 2070

Conseile upon thi nede sette:

So thenke I finaly to knette

This cause, where it is tobroke,

And make an ende of that is spoke.

For I behihte thee that yifte

Ferst whan thou come under my schrifte,

That thogh I toward Venus were,

Yit spak I suche wordes there,

That for the Presthod which I have,

Min ordre and min astat to save, 2080

I seide I wolde of myn office

To vertu more than to vice

Encline, and teche thee mi lore.

Forthi to speken overmore

Of love, which thee mai availe,

Tak love where it mai noght faile:

For as of this which thou art inne,

Be that thou seist it is a Sinne,

And Sinne mai no pris deserve,

Withoute pris and who schal serve, 2090

I not what profit myhte availe.

Thus folweth it, if thou travaile,

Wher thou no profit hast ne pris,

Thou art toward thiself unwis:

And sett thou myhtest lust atteigne,

Of every lust thende is a peine,

And every peine is good to fle;

So it is wonder thing to se,

Why such a thing schal be desired.

The more that a Stock is fyred, 2100

The rathere into Aisshe it torneth;

The fot which in the weie sporneth

Fulofte his heved hath overthrowe;

Thus love is blind and can noght knowe

Wher that he goth, til he be falle:

Forthi, bot if it so befalle

With good conseil that he be lad,

Him oghte forto ben adrad.

For conseil passeth alle thing

To him which thenkth to ben a king; 2110

And every man for his partie

A kingdom hath to justefie,

That is to sein his oghne dom.

If he misreule that kingdom,

He lest himself, and that is more

Than if he loste Schip and Ore

And al the worldes good withal:

For what man that in special

Hath noght himself, he hath noght elles,

Nomor the perles than the schelles; 2120

Al is to him of o value:

Thogh he hadde at his retenue

The wyde world ryht as he wolde,

Whan he his herte hath noght withholde

Toward himself, al is in vein.

And thus, my Sone, I wolde sein,

As I seide er, that thou aryse,

Er that thou falle in such a wise

That thou ne myht thiself rekevere;

For love, which that blind was evere, 2130

Makth alle his servantz blinde also.

My Sone, and if thou have be so,

Yit is it time to withdrawe,

And set thin herte under that lawe,

The which of reson is governed

And noght of will. And to be lerned,

Ensamples thou hast many on

Of now and ek of time gon,

That every lust is bot a while;

And who that wole himself beguile, 2140

He may the rathere be deceived.

Mi Sone, now thou hast conceived

Somwhat of that I wolde mene;

Hierafterward it schal be sene

If that thou lieve upon mi lore;

For I can do to thee nomore

Bot teche thee the rihte weie:

Now ches if thou wolt live or deie.

Mi fader, so as I have herd

Your tale, bot it were ansuerd, 2150

I were mochel forto blame.

Mi wo to you is bot a game,

That fielen noght of that I fiele;

The fielinge of a mannes Hiele

Mai noght be likned to the Herte:

I mai noght, thogh I wolde, asterte,

And ye be fre from al the peine

Of love, wherof I me pleigne.

It is riht esi to comaunde;

The hert which fre goth on the launde 2160

Not of an Oxe what him eileth;

It falleth ofte