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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Israel Gollancz William Shakespeare [1624]

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forto loke, in som partie

Is worthi forto be comendid,

And in som part to ben amendid, 3010

That of here large retenue

The lond is ful of maintenue,

Which causith that the comune right

In fewe contrees stant upright.

Extorcioun, contekt, ravine

Withholde ben of that covyne,

Aldai men hierin gret compleignte

Of the desease, of the constreignte,

Wher of the poeple is sore oppressid:

God graunte it mote be redressid. 3020

For of knyghthode thordre wolde

That thei defende and kepe scholde

The comun right and the fraunchise

Of holy cherche in alle wise,

So that no wikke man it dere,

And ther fore servith scheld and spere:

Bot for it goth now other weie,

Oure grace goth the more aweie.

And forto lokyn ovyrmore,

Wher of the poeple pleigneth sore, 3030

Toward the lawis of oure lond,

Men sein that trouthe hath broke his bond

And with brocage is goon aweie,

So that no man can se the weie

Wher forto fynde rightwisnesse.

And if men sechin sikernesse

Uppon the lucre of marchandie,

Compassement and tricherie

Of singuler profit to wynne,

Men seyn, is cause of mochil synne, 3040

And namely of divisioun,

Which many a noble worthi toun

Fro welthe and fro prosperite

Hath brought to gret adversite.

So were it good to ben al on,

For mechil grace ther uppon

Unto the Citees schulde falle,

Which myghte availle to ous alle,

If these astatz amendid were,

So that the vertus stodyn there 3050

And that the vices were aweie:

Me thenkth y dorste thanne seie,

This londis grace schulde arise.

Bot yit to loke in othre wise,

Ther is a stat, as ye schul hiere,

Above alle othre on erthe hiere,

Which hath the lond in his balance:

To him belongith the leiance

Of Clerk, of knyght, of man of lawe;

Undir his hond al is forth drawe 3060

The marchant and the laborer;

So stant it al in his power

Or forto spille or forto save.

Bot though that he such power have,

And that his myghtes ben so large,

He hath hem nought withouten charge,

To which that every kyng ys swore:

So were it good that he ther fore

First un to rightwisnesse entende,

Wherof that he hym self amende 3070

Toward his god and leve vice,

Which is the chief of his office;

And aftir al the remenant

He schal uppon his covenant

Governe and lede in such a wise,

So that ther be no tirandise,

Wherof that he his poeple grieve,

Or ellis may he nought achieve

That longith to his regalie.

For if a kyng wol justifie 3080

His lond and hem that beth withynne,

First at hym self he mot begynne,

To kepe and reule his owne astat,

That in hym self be no debat

Toward his god: for othre wise

Ther may non erthly kyng suffise

Of his kyngdom the folk to lede,

Bot he the kyng of hevene drede.

For what kyng sett hym uppon pride

And takth his lust on every side 3090

And wil nought go the righte weie,

Though god his grace caste aweie

No wondir is, for ate laste

He schal wel wite it mai nought laste,

The pompe which he secheth here.

Bot what kyng that with humble chere

Aftir the lawe of god eschuieth

The vices, and the vertus suieth,

His grace schal be suffisant

To governe al the remenant 3100

Which longith to his duite;

So that in his prosperite

The poeple schal nought ben oppressid,

Wherof his name schal be blessid,

For evere and be memorial.

And now to speke as in final,

Touchende that y undirtok

In englesch forto make a book

Which stant betwene ernest and game,

I have it maad as thilke same 3110

Which axe forto ben excusid,

And that my bok be nought refusid

Of lered men, whan thei it se,

For lak of curiosite:

For thilke scole of eloquence

Belongith nought to my science,

Uppon the forme of rethoriqe

My wordis forto peinte and pike,

As Tullius som tyme wrot.

Bot this y knowe and this y wot, 3120

That y have do my trewe peyne

With rude wordis and with pleyne,

In al that evere y couthe and myghte,

This bok to write as y behighte,

So as siknesse it soffre wolde;

And also for my daies olde,

That y am feble and impotent,

I wot nought how the world ys went.

So preye y to my lordis alle

Now in myn age, how so befalle,

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