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The true portraiture of GEFFREY CHAUCEER
the famous English poet as by THOMAS
OCCLEUE is deſcribed who liued in his
time and was his Scholar.
THE
WORKS
OF OUR
Ancient, Learned, & Excellent
ENGLISH POET,
JEFFREY CHAUCER:
As they have lately been Compar'd with the beſt Manuſcripts;
and ſeveral things added, never before in Print.
To which is adjoyn'd,
The STORY of the SIEGE of THEBES,
By John Lidgate, Monk of Bury.
TOGETHER WITH The Life of Chaucer, SHEWING His Countrey, Parentage, Education, Marriage, Children, Revenues, Service, Reward, Friends, Books, Death.
Alſo a TABLE, wherein the Old and Obſcure Words in Chaucer are explained, and
ſuch Words (which are many) that either are, by Nature or Derivation, Arabick,
Greek, Latine, Italian, French, Dutch, or Saxon, mark'd with particular Notes for
the better underſtanding their Original.
LONDON,
Printed in the Year, MDCLXXXVII.
AT the last Impreſſion of this Work, in way of humChaucer;
as namely, His Life, Picture, and Pedigree:
the Arguments of every Book and Tale: the Explanation of old
Words, with Declaration of Authors by him cited: and alſo
two Treatiſes, the Death of Blanch, called his Dream: and
the Flower and the Leaf, never before printed. But as theſe
things then through want of time were not fully perfected, ſo
were there ſome other things omitted, at the next Impreſſion to
be performed.
Now therefore, that both by old written Copies, and by
Mr. William Thynn's praiſe-worthy Labours, I have reChaucer, for the most part,
is reſtored to his own Antiquity; and noted withal most of
his Sentences and Proverbs; having alſo, with ſome AddiEngliſh, all the Latin and
French by him uſed; and laſtly, added to his Works ſome
Things of his own doing, as the Treatiſe of Jack Upland
againſt Fryars, and his A. B. C. commonly called La Priere
de noſtre Dame: I am bold to preſent the whole to your Ho
AFter this Book was laſt Printed, I underſtood that
Mr. Francis Thynn had a purpoſe, as indeed he hath when
time ſhall ſerve, to ſet out Chaucer with a Comment in
our Tongue, as the Italians have Petrark and others in their LanChaucer now being Printed
again, I was willing, not only to help ſome Imperfections, but
alſo to add ſome things; whereunto he did not only perſuade
me, but moſt kindly lent me his Help and Direction. By this
means moſt of his old Words are reſtored; Proverbs and Sen
But of ſome things I muſt advertiſe the Readers; as firſt, that in
Chaucer they ſhall find the Proper Names oftentimes much differLatin and Greek, from whence they are drawn;
which they muſt not condemn in him as a fault: for both he, and
other Poets, in Tranſlating ſuch Words from one Language into
another, do uſe, as the Latins and Greeks do, the ſundry Species of
Metaplaſmus: as Campaneus for Capaneus; Atheon for Acteon;
Adriane for Ariadne. Which Chaucer doth in other Words
alſo; as gon for begon; leve for beleve; peraunter for peradventure;
loveden for did love; woneden for did won, &c.
It is his manner likewiſe, imitating the Greeks, by two NegaI ne ſaid none ill.
Alſo many times to underſtand his Verb; as, I not what men
him call, for I know not, &c.
And, for the Author, to name ſome part of his Work; as,
Argonauticon for Apollonius Rhodius. And that ſometime in the
Genitive Caſe, a former Subſtantive being underſtood: as, read
Aeneidos: Metamorphoſeos: for the Authors of thoſe Works.
Adam Scrivener, that
I may ſpeak as Chaucer doth, than to any unconning or over-ſight
in the Author: for how fearful he was to have his Works miſTroylus and Creſeide, where he writeth thus:
Moreover, whereas in the explanation of the old Words, ſundry
of their Significations by me given, may to ſome ſeem conjectural;
yet ſuch as underſtand the Dialects of our Tongue, eſpecially in the
North, and have knowledge in ſome other Languages, will judge
otherwiſe: and for the ſatisfying of others, which want ſuch skill,
I have by theſe Characters a. g. l. i. f. d. b. notified to them from
what Tongue or Dialect ſuch Words are derived.
It were a Labour worth commendation, if ſome Scholar, that
hath Skill and Leiſure, would conferr Chaucer with thoſe learned
Authors, both in Greek and Latin, from whom he hath drawn
many excellent things; and at large report ſuch Hiſtories, as in
his Works are very frequent, and many of them hard to be
found: which would ſo grace this Ancient Poet, that whereas
divers have thought him unlearned, and his Writings mere Tri
I Am ſorry, that neither the worthineſs of Chaucer's own Praiſe, nor the imChaucer ſuch deſert of Glory as you may beſtow upon him at
your Pleaſure.
It is well known to wiſe and learned Men, that all Languages be either ſuch as
are contained in Learning, or ſuch as be uſed in daily practiſe: and for learned
Tongues, they having Teſtamentario jure, their Legacies ſet down by them that
be dead, Words muſt be retained and continued in them in ſuch ſort as they were
left, without alteration of the Teſtators Wills in any thing, although in his choice
it be that is to uſe them, when to uſe, or where to refuſe them, at his own diſcreHorace, in his Book De arte Poetica, preciſely noteth in theſe Verſes:
&c.
Whereby he declareth, that Words in common Tongues, like unto Leaves, muſt
of neceſſity have their Buddings, their Bloſſomings, their Ripenings, and their
Fallings: and Chaucer moſt excellently alſo himſelf in true foreſight hereof in theſe
Verſes of his:
And therefore impoſſible it was, that either Chaucer could, or any man living
can, keep Words of unlearned Tongues from falling after ſo long a time. And this
hath happened amongſt the Latin Writers themſelves, when theirs was a ſpoken
Tongue, as ours now is, who, though they firſt made their own Words, and gave
Cecilius, Statius, Ennius and Plautus, were
by latter Latiniſts rejected; and now again many of them, by the laſt Writers of
all (though before, as it were by Proclamation, put down for baſeneſs) are upon
a new touch warranted for good, and paſs abroad as Sterling. But ſo pure were
Chaucer's Words in his days, as Lidgate, that learned Man, calleth him, The LoadEngliſh Language; and ſo good they are in our days, as Mr. Spencer
(following the Counſel of Tully in his Third Book De Oratore, for reviving of
ancient Words) hath adorned his Stile with that Beauty and Gravity, that Tully
there ſpeaks of: and his much frequenting of Chaucer's ancient Words, with his exFrench or Italian,
deſerves a ſecond place under him. And furthermore, by your InterpretaMedea did upon
Aeſon; for you have reſtored us Chaucer, both alive again, and young again; and
delivered many from the erroneous Conjectures they conceived of him. And there
Touching the Incivility Chaucer is charged withal; what Roman Poet hath leſs
offended this way than he? Virgil in his Priapus is worſe by a thouſand Degrees,
and Ovid in his Book De Arte Amandi, and Horace in many Places as deep as the
reſt; but Catullus and Tibullus, in unclean Wantonneſs, beyond meaſure paſs
them all. Neither is Plautus nor Terence free in this behalf: But theſe two laſt are
excuſed above the reſt, for their due Obſervation of Decorum, in giving to their
Comical Perſons ſuch manner of Speeches as did beſt fit their Diſpoſitions. And
may not the ſame be ſaid for Chaucer? How much had he ſwarved from Decorum,
if he had made his Merchant, his Miller, his Cook, his Carpenter, tell ſuch honeſt
and civil Tales, as were told of his Knight, his Squire, his Lawyer and his Scho
And in excuſe of himſelf for uttering thoſe broad Speeches of theirs, he uſeth
theſe Words:
For no man can imagine in his ſo large compaſs, purpoſing to deſcribe all Engliſh-mens
Humours living in thoſe days, how it had been poſſible for him to have
left untouch'd their filthy Delights; or in diſcovering their deſires, how to have
expreſs'd them without ſome of their Words.
And now to compare him with other Poets: His Canterbury Tales contain in
them almoſt the ſame Argument that is handled in Comedies: His Stile therein for
the moſt part is low and open, and like unto theirs: but herein they differ; The
Comedy-Writers do all follow and borrow one from another, as Terence from
Plautus and Menander: Plautus from Menander and Demophilus: Statius and Caecilius
from Diphilus, Apollodorus, and Philemon; and almoſt all the laſt Comedians
from that, which was called Antiqua Comaedia. The Ring they beat is this, and
out of the ſame Track they go not; To ſhew the Looſeneſs of many Young-men;
the Lewdneſs of ſome Young-women; the crafty School Points of old Bawds; the
little regard of honeſt diſpoſed Serving-men; the miſerable Wretchedneſs of divers
old Fathers, and their Folly in countenancing and committing their Sons to the
Charge and Government of moſt impudent and flattering Paraſites; ſuch as in
Terence is prating Davus and Geta, and bold bawdy Phormio. Chaucer's Device of
his Canterbury Pilgrimage is merely his own: His Drift is to touch all ſorts of men,
and to diſcover all Vices of that Age; which he doth ſo feelingly, and with ſo
true an Aim, as he never fails to hit whatſoever mark he levels at.
In his five Books of Troylus and Creſeid, in the Romaunt of the Roſe, in his
Black Knight, in the Mercileſs Lady, in ſome few alſo of his Tales, in his Dream,
and in that of Blanch, (which is in your hands, and was never yet imprinted) and
in other his Diſcourſes he ſoareth much higher; and is in his Troilus ſo ſententious,
as there be few Staves in thoſe Books which include not ſome principal Sentence;
moſt excellently imitating Homer and Virgil, and borrowing often of them, and of
Horace alſo, and other the rareſt both Orators and Poets that have written. Of
whom, for the ſweetneſs of his Poetry, may be ſaid, that which is reported of
Steſichorus: and as Marcus Cethegus was termed by Ennius, Suadae medulla; ſo may
Chaucer rightly be called, The Pith and Sinews of Eloquence, and very Life it ſelf
of all Mirth and pleaſant Writing: beſides, one Gift he hath above other Authors,
and that is, By excellency of his Deſcriptions, to poſſeſs his Readers with a more
forcible Imagination of ſeeing that (as it were) done before their Eyes, which they
read, than any other that ever hath written in any Tongue. And here I cannot
forget to remember unto you, thoſe ancient learned Men of our time in Cambridge,
whoſe diligence, in reading of his Works themſelves, and commending them to
others of the younger ſort, did firſt bring you and me in love with him: and one
of them at that time, and all his Life after, was (as you know) one of the rareſt
men for Learning in the whole World. The ſame may be ſaid of that worthy
learned Man your good Friend in Oxford, who with many other of like excellent
Judgment have ever had Chaucer in moſt high Reputation.
And now, (Mr. Speght) ſeeing not only all Greek and Latin Poets have had
their Interpreters, and the moſt of them tranſlated into our Tongue, but the French
alſo and Italian, as Guillaume de Salust, that moſt divine French Poet; Petrark and
Arioſto, thoſe two excellent Italians, (whereof the laſt, inſtructed by Mr. Iohn
Harington doth now ſpeak as good Engliſh as he did Italian before,) ſhall only
Chaucer, our Ancient Poet, nothing inferiour to the beſt, amongſt all the Poets of
the World, remain always neglected, and never be ſo well underſtood of his own
Country-men as Strangers are? Well, content your ſelf, and ſet your heart at reſt;
for, ſeeing I was one of them which firſt procured you to take in hand this Work,
and ſince you have given me of your Copies to uſe privately for mine own PleaChaucer
great part of that Honour that he moſt worthily deſerveth. So with my thrice hearty
Commendations I bid you farewel.
Gulielmus Camdenus. Gaufredus Chaucer ſui ſaeculi ornamentum extra omnem ingenii aleam poſitus, & Poetaſtras noſtros longo post ſe intervallo relinquens.
—jam monte potitus Ridet anhelantem dura ad faſtigia turbam.
THis famous and learned Poet, Geffrey Chaucer,
Eſq was ſuppoſed byLeland had CommiſHen. Eighth to ſearch all LiEngland for matEdw. Sixth.Leland
to have been an Oxfordſhire or Barkſhire Man born: for ſo reporteth John Bale
in his Catalogue of Engliſh Writers; Quibuſdam argumentis adducebatur Lelandus,
ut crederet, &c. Some Reaſons did move Leland to think, That Oxfordſhire
or Barkſhire was his Native Country.
But as it is evident by his own Words in the Teſtament of Love
5th Sect.he was born
2d or 3d Year of Edw. Third.in
the City of London: for thus he writeth there; Alſo in the City of London that is
to me ſo dear and ſweet, in which I was foorth growen, and more kindly
Love have I to that Place than to any other in yerth (as every kindly Crea
Guild-Hall in London we find, that there was one Richard Chaucer
quaſi Wineturner, that is, a MerVi
which ſold by whole ſale.London in the twenty third Year of Edward 3d. who might well be
Geffrey Chaucer's Father.
Alſo there was a Nun of St. Hellens in London named Elizabeth Chaucer, in the firſt
Year of Rich. 2d. as it is in Record, which ſeemeth either to have been his Siſter, or
of his Kindred, and by likelihood a Londoner born.
Moreover, in the eighth year of the ſame King, Geffrey Chaucer was Controller of the
Cuſtom-Houſe in London, as after out of the Records ſhall appear.
Other Dealings he had in the City, as we may plainly ſee in the Teſtament of Love;
all which may move us to think, That he was born in London.
FOR his Parentage and Place of Birth, although Bale termeth him, Galfridus Chaucer
nobili loco natus, & ſummae ſpei juvenis, yet in the Opinion of ſome Heralds,
(otherwiſe than his Vertues and Learning commended him) he deſcended not of any
great Houſe; which they gather by his Arms, De argento & rubeo colore partita per
longitudiuem ſcuti cum benda ex tranſverſo, eiſdem coloribus ſed tranſmutatis depicta ſub hac
forma.
But this is but a ſimple Conjecture: for, honourable Houſes, and of great Antiquity,
have borne as mean Arms as Chaucer; and yet his Arms are not ſo mean, ei
And indeed both in reſpect of the Name, which is French, as alſo by other Con
But wheras ſome are of Opinion, that the firſt coming of the Chaucers into England
was when Qu. Iſabel,
Iſabel being ſent into France with her young Son Edw. by the K. of England her Husband, to conferr aFrench King, would by no means reSpenſers, and alſo againſt the King, for ſufEngliſhmen.
Edw. 2. and her Son Prince Edw. returned out ofHenault, a Province lying between France and Flanders.
Henault
into England, at which time alſo almoſt 3000 Strangers came over with them, as by
Chronicles appeareth; or ſome two Years after, when Philip, Daughter to the Earl of
Henault, came over to be married to Prince Edward: I can by no means conſent with
them, but rather muſt think, That their Name and Family was of far more ancient
Antiquity, although by time decayed, as many more had been of much greater Eſtate.
For in the days of Edw. 1. there was one John Chaucer, as appeared by the Records of
the Tower; where it is ſaid, That the King did hear the Complaint of John Chaucer in
the damage of 1000 l. There was alſo in the time of Hen. 3. and Edw. 1. Elias Chauceſir;
of whom the Records in the Exchequer have thus; Edwardus Dei Gratia, &c. liberate
de Theſauro noſtro Elias Chauceſir decem ſolid. &c. with which Characters Geffrey Chaucer
is written in the Records of Edw. 3. and Rich. 2. This Name was at the firſt a Name of
Office or Occupation, which afterward came to be the Name of a Family, as Smith,
Baker, Skinner, and others have done. In the time of King John likewiſe, there was one
named le Chaucer, as appeareth by the Records of the Tower. But what need I to ſtand
upon the Antiquity or Gentry of Chaucer, when the Roll of Battle Abbey affirmeth
Chaucer to have come in with the Conquerour. Moreover, it is more likely that the
Parents of Geffrey Chaucer were mere Engliſh, and himſelf an Engliſh-man born; for
elſe how could he have come to that Perfection in our Language, as to be called, The
firſt Illuminer of the Engliſh Tongue, had not both he, and his Parents before him,
been born and bred among us? But what their Names were, or what Iſſue they had,
otherwiſe than by Conjecture before given, we cannot declare.
Henry the Sixth, or much thereabout.
HIS bringing up, as Leland ſaith, was in the Univerſity of Oxford, as alſo in Cambridge,
as appeareth by his own Words, in his Book entituled, The Court of Love;
and in Oxford (by all likelihood) in Canterbury or in Merton Colledge,Canterbury ColOxford, founded by Simon Iſlip Archbiſhop of Canterbury, was ſuppreſſed in the Reign of K. Hen. 8. and joyned unto Christs-Church.
John
Wickliffe, whoſe Opinions in Religion he much affected; where, beſides his private
Study, he did with great diligence frequent the publick Schools and Diſputations; Hinc
acutus Dialecticus, hinc dulcis Rhetor, hinc lepidus Poeta, hinc gravis Philoſophus, ac ſanctus
Theologus evaſit. Mathematicus inſuper ingenioſus erat à Johanne Sombo, &c. Hereupon
ſaith Leland, he became a witty Logician, a ſweet Rhetorician, a pleaſant Poet, a grave
Philoſopher, and a holy Divine. Moreover, he was a very skilful Mathematician, inJohn Some and Nicholas
Bale.
Lynne, Friars Carmelites of Lynne, and
men very skilful in the Mathematicks, whom he, in his Book called The Aſtrolaby, doth
greatly commend, and calleth them, Reverend Clerks.
By his Travel alſo in France and Flanders, where he ſpent much time in his young
Years, but more in the latter end of the Reign of King Rich. 2. he attained to great
Perfection in all kind of Learning: for ſo do Bale and Leland alſo report. Circa poſtremos
Richardi ſecundi annos in Galliis floruit, magnamque illic ex aſſidua in literis exercitatione
gloriam ſibi comparavit. Domum reverſus forum Londinenſe, & Collegia Leguleiorum,
qui ibidem patria jura interpretantur, frequentavit, &c. About the latter end of King
Richard the Second's Days he flouriſhed in France, and got himſelf great Commendation
there by his diligent Exerciſe in Learning. After his Return home, he frequented the
Court at London, and the Colledges of the Lawyers, which there interpret the Laws of
the Land, and among them he had a familiar Friend calledJohn Gower, a Knight, as Bale writeth, ſtudiMary Overies in Southwark, in a ſtately Tomb erected in the Wall, with his Image lying over him, in a Habit of greeniſh Damask down to his Feet, a Collar of Eſſes Gold about his Neck, and on his Head a Chaplet of Roſes, the Ornaments of Knighthood. Under his Head he hath the likeneſs of three Books, which he compiled: the firſt, Speculum Meditantis in French; the ſecond, Vox Clamantis in Latin; the third, Confeſſio Amantis in Engliſh.John Gower.
It ſeemeth that Chaucer was of the Inner Temple; for not many Years ſince, Maſter
Buckley did ſee a Record in the ſame Houſe, where Geffrey Chaucer was fined two ShilFranciſcan Friar in Fleet-ſtreet.
Thus ſpending much time in the Univerſities, France, Flanders, and Inns of Court,
he proved a ſingular man in all kind of Knowledge.
HE matched in Marriage with a Knights Daughter of Henault, called Paon de Ruet,
King of Arms, as by this Draught appeareth, taken out of the Office of the HeChaucer's own Words in his Dream, was Attendant on Blanch the
Dutcheſs, in the Duke of Lancaſter's Houſe, as alſo her Siſter Katharine was; or elſe
waited on the Dutcheſs Maud, Siſter of Blanch, who was married to William Duke of
Bavare, Earl of Henault, Zeland, and Holland. But howſoever it was, by this MarriJohn Plantagenet, ſirnamed Gaunt, of Gaunt in Flanders, where he was born, was the fourth Son of King Edward the Third. He was Duke of Lancaster, Earl of Lincoln, Darby, and Leicester, King of Castile and Lyons, and Steward of England. He was alſo Earl of Richmond, and Duke of Aquitain. He had three Wives, Blanch, Constance, and Katharine. He lieth buried in the Quire of Pauls.
John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaſter, as hereafter ap
IT ſhould ſeem, that Geffrey Chaucer had another Son beſidesThomas Chaucer was born ath Year of Edw. 3.Thomas; for in the
Preface to theWritten Ann. Domini 1391. Rich. ſecund. 14.Aſtrolabe writeth to one, whom he calleth his little Son Lewis: yet
ſome hold opinion, (but I know not upon what Grounds) that Thomas Chaucer was
not the Son of Geffrey Chaucer, but rather ſome Kinſman of his, whom he brought up.
But this Pedigree by the hands of Maſter Glover alias Somerſet, that learned Antiquary,
as alſo the Report of Chronicles, ſhew it to be otherwiſe.
Geffrey Chaucer's Service in France, being ſent thiEdward the Third gave him this Maud, Daughter and Heir of Sir
John Burgherſhe was of the ſame Line of Barrholomew Burgherſhe, one of the firſt Knights of the Garter at the Inſtitution thereof by Edward 3. and of Henry Burgherſhe BiLincoln, and Chancellor and Treaſurer of England.
John Burgherſhe, Knight, whom he married to Thomas Chaucer his Son, to the great
increaſe of his Living, and amendment in Blood.
This Thomas Chaucer, beſides his own Inheritance ofG. C.
Ewelm andDunnington Caſtle ſtandeth in a Park in Barkſhire not far from Newberry, where to this day ſtandeth an old Oak called Chaucer's Oak.Dunnington Caſtle,
(which M. Camben, England's moſt excellent Antiquiographer termeth, Quondam Chauceri,
& poſtea Delapolorum Caſtellum exiguum) was divers ways preferred, as out of ReLondon here we may partly ſee.
Viceſimo ſecundo Rich. ſecundi viginti Marcae datae Thomae Chaucer per ann. durante vita.
Anno primo Henrici quarti idem donum viginti Marcarum confirmatum.
Thomas Chaucer primo anno Henrici ſexti capitalis Pincerna Regis Angliae.
Thomas Chaucer, Sheriff of Oxfordſhire and Barkſhire, and Conſtable ofin Barkſhire: Caſtrum admiG. Camben.
Wallingford-Caſtle
andin Yorkſhire. Caſtrum rupi aſperrimae impoſitum, quod Serlonem de Burgo patruum Euſtacii Veſcii condidiſſe ferunt: nunc patrimonii Lancastrenſis cenſetur. G. Camden.
Knaresborow Caſtle, and the Foreſt of Knaresborow, during Life.
Queen
Jane of Navarr, WiJohn of Mounford, Duke of Britain, was married to Henry the Fourth, about the fourth Year of his Reign.Wife to Henry the Fourth, the twelfth year of his Reign, gave to
Thomas Chaucer, for his good Service, Manerium de Woodſtock, Hannebrough, Wotton,
& Stuntesfield, cum omnibus membris & Hamlet. ſuis durante vita.
Thomas Chaucer, the laſt Heir male of the Chaucers, and Owner of Ewelm and DunCaſtle, the Inheritance of the Chaucers, lieth buried in a black Marble Tomb,
in a fair Chappel, in the Pariſh-Church of Ewelm, in the ſouth ſide of the Quire, with
this Epitaph, Hic jacet Thomas Chaucer, Armiger, quondam dominus iſtius villae, & patro
Thomas Chaucer had one only Daughter, named Alice, married thrice; firſt to
Sir John Phillip, Knight; then to Thomas Mountacute, Earl of Salisbury; and the third
time toPooles Advancement grew firſt by Merchandiſe: and Sir Richard Poole, Kt. was Father to William de la Pool, Merchant of Hull, who, for that he frankly and freely did lend to King Ed. 3. a great Sum of Mony (at Mortaign in France, when he was greatly diſtreſſed) was honoured with the Girdle Military, made Banneret, and endued with 1000 Marks by the Year; and his Succeſſors after were advanced to be Dukes of Suffolk, as in Maſter Stow's Annals appeareth.William de la Pole, Earl, and after Duke of Suffolk; who, for love of his Wife,
and commodity of her Lands, fell much to dwell in Oxfordſhire and Barkſhire, where
his Wives Lands lay. Between them they had a Son called John, as appeareth in the
Book of the Foundation of the Hoſpital of Ewelm, (which is to be ſeen in Mr. Stow's
Library) where the Maſter, Miniſter, and the poor Men, are enjoyned to gather
themſelves at appointed times about the Tomb of Thomas Chaucer and Maud his Wife,
Father and Mother of the Dutcheſs, and there to ſay certain Prayers appointed; which
being ended, one of them is to ſay openly in the Engliſh Tongue, God ſave in Body and
Soul our ſovereign Lord the King; my Lord William Duke of Suffolk; my Lady Alice,
Dutcheſs of Suffolk his Wife, our Foundreſs; my Lord John their Son, and all Chriſtian
People; the Brethren anſwering, Amen. This is added, becauſe ſome have held, that
ſhe never had Child, but that the Duke had this Son by another Wife: although inChaucers Lands to the Poles, and after to the King, might
ſufficiently confute them. But what is it wherein ſome will not cavil?
This William and his Wife increaſed the Manor Place of Ewelm,
William de la Pole was firſt ſecretly marHenault, by whom he had a Daughter: and after beT. Chaucer's Daughter, Counteſs of Salisbury, who proved this Daughter, beBarentine, a Baſtard. The which Barentine afterward, for a Rior made againſt the Counteſs, was condemnJ. Stow.
Gods-houſe, for two Prieſts and thirteen poor
men, to be ſuſtained for ever. One of the Prieſts to be Maſter of the Alms-houſe and
Alms people, them to inſtruct; the other Prieſt, a School-maſter, freely to teach the
Children of the Tenants of the ſaid Lordſhip their Grammar; and either of them to
have ten Pounds by the Year. Alſo one of the poor men to be called Miniſter, to
preſent the Faults of the other to the Maſter, and to ring their common Bell to Service,
Ramridge in Hampſhire, Conock in Wiltſhire, and Merſh
in Buckinghamſhire. They alſo founded an Hoſpital at Donnington Caſtle J. St.
This Alice,
Hen. 6. 1450. this William de la Pole was baDover Sands, and buried in the Charter-houſe at Hull. J. St.
William, ſurviving her Husband, was after buried in the
Pariſh Church of Ewelm, on the South-ſide of the high Altar, in a rich Tomb of AlaOrate pro anima ſereniſſimae principiſſae Aliciae
Suffolchiae, hujus Eccleſiae Patronae, & primae fundatricis hujus Eleemoſinariae, quae obiit
20 die menſis Maii, Anno Dom. 1475. Litera Dominicali, A.
Among many things that greatly renowned Geffrey Chaucer, this was one ſaith Bale,
That he had a Kinſwoman, Quae Gulielmo Sudovolgiorum Duci nupſit, ac magno in ſplendore
Aquelmi vitam egit: that is, which being married to William Duke of Suffolk, liEwelm.
BUT now to return to Geffrey Chaucer: although he had Lands and Revenues in
divers Places, and that to the yearly value, as ſome ſay, almoſt of a thouſand
Pounds, yet the Place of his moſt Abode was at Woodſtock, in a fair Houſe of Stone next
to the King's Place, called to this day Chaucer's Houſe, and by that Name paſſed by
the Queen to the Tenant which there now dwelleth. Chaucer took great Pleaſure to
lye there, in regard of the Park, in ſundry of his Writings much by him commend
IN the laſt Year of King Edward the Third,Rich. Dangle, a Knt. of Poictu, came over with the Duke of Lancaſter, who, for his Valiancy and tryed Truth to the King of England, was made Knight of the Garter.Richard Dangle, and Sir
Richard Stan, was ſent to Montrevil to move a Marriage to be had between Richard
Prince of Wales, and the Lady Mary, Daughter to the French King. Some write,
that he, with Petrark, was preſent at the Marriage of Lionel Duke of Clarence with
Violant Daughter of Galeaſius Duke of Millain; yet Paulus Jovius nameth not Chaucer,
but Petrark, he ſaith, was there. And yet it may well be; for it is in Record, that
twice or thrice he was employed in foreign Countries: which if it be true, well might
the man be at ſuch Charges and Expences as he might ſtand in need of King Richard
the Second's Protection (as after ſhall appear) till he had better recovered himſelf. But
for his Service he was not unrewarded.
CHaucer is called Armiger Regis: for in the Patent Rolls of Part 1. of 50 Ed. 3. M. 5.
the King maketh a Grant, Armigero noſtro Galfrido Chaucer. This Armiger Regis
was of good Worſhip and Reputation about the Prince, being alſo the ſame that
Scutifer Regis was, to bear the King's Shield and other Armour of his, both out and
in the Wars. By which Name of Scutifer Regis, the King granted to him the Lands
and Body of Sir Edmund Staplegat, for the Manor of Bilſington in Kent, to whom he
paid 104 Pounds for the ſame; as appeareth in Patent Part 2. de anno 49 Edw. 3. Again,
the King before that, in 45 Edw. 3: as appeareth in pellis Exitus of the Exchequer,
had granted unto him twenty Marks by Year, by the Name of Galfride Chaucer
Valectus Hoſpitii; which is, Groom of the Palace, a place of good Worſhip. By which
Name of Valectus ▪
alſo King Edw. 3. long before did entite Laurence Haſtings, Lord
of Aburganey, calling him Valectum noſtrum, being the King's Groom, Page, or SerG. Chaucer was with King Edw. 3.
Anno 17 Richardi 2. Viginti librae datae Galfrido Chaucero per annum durante vita:
Vigeſſimo ſecundo anno Richardi ſecundi conceſſum Galfrido Chaucer unum dolium vini per annum durante vita, in portu civitatis London. per manus capitalis Pincernae noſtri.
Anno primo Henrici quarti Galfrido Chaucero Armigero literae patentes confirmatae pro vi
Eodem etiam anno conceſſae adhuc & datae eidem Galfrido Chaucero Quadraginta marcae per annum durante vita.
FRiends he had in the Court, of the beſt ſort: for beſides that he always held in
with the Princes, in whoſe days he lived, he had of the beſt of the Nobility,
both Lords and Ladies, which favoured him greatly. But chiefly John of Gaunt Duke
of Lancaſter, at whoſe commandment he made the TreatiſeOtes de Grantſome, Knight, in French: of my Lady of York, Daughter to the King of Spain, repreVenus; and my Lord of Huntingdon, ſometime Duke of Exceſter. This Lady was younger Siſter to Conſtance, John of Gaunt's ſecond Wife. This Lord of Huntingdon was called John Holland, half Brother to Richard the Second: He married Elizabeth the Daughter of John of Gaunt Duke of Lancaster.
Of the Alliance betwixt
Mars and Venus: and alſo the Book of the Dutcheſs. Likewiſe the Lady Iſabel, DaughEdward the Third, and Wife to Ingeram de Guynes, Lord De Coucy: alſo
the Lady Margaret, Daughter to the ſame King, married to John Haſtings Earl of
Penbrook, did greatly love and favour Geffrey Chaucer; and he again did as much hoMargaret, as it may appear in divers Treatiſes by
him written: as in the Prologue of the Legend of good Women under the Name of
the Daiſy; and likewiſe in a Ballad, beginning, In the ſeaſon of Feuerier. Others
there were of great account, whereof ſome, for ſome cauſes, took liking of him, and
other for his rare Gifts and Learning did admire him. And thus he lived in honour
many Years both at home and abroad.
Yet it ſeemeth that he was in ſome trouble in the days of King Richard the Second,
as it may appear in the Teſtament of Love; where he doth greatly complain of his
own raſhneſs in following the multitude, and of their hatred againſt him for bewrayStow (whoſe Library helped me in many
things) wherein ten times more is adjoyned than is in Print. Where he maketh great
Lamentation for his wrongful Impriſonment, wiſhing death to end his days: which in
my Judgment doth greatly accord with that in the Teſtament of Love. Moreover,
we find it thus in Record:
In the ſecond Year of Richard the Second,Geffrey Chaucer and his
Lands into his Protection: the occaſion whereof, no doubt, was ſome danger and
trouble wherein he was fallen by favouring ſome raſh attempt of the common People.
For living in ſuch troubleſome times, wherein few knew what part to take, no marHolland,
Zeland, and France, where he wrote moſt of his Books.
CHaucer had always an earneſt deſire to enrich and beautifie our Engliſh Tongue,
which in thoſe days was very rude and barren; and this he did, following the
Example of Dantes and Petrarch, who had done the ſame for the Italian Tongue,
Alanus for the French, and Johannes Mena for the Spaniſh; neither was Chaucer inferiEngland in this reſpect is much beLeland well noteth;
England honoureth Chaucer Poet, as principal
Jack Vpland againſt Friars. Now Printed.
Others I have ſeen without any Authors Name, in the hands of Mr. Stow, that
painful Antiquary; which for the Invention I would verily judge to be Chaucer's, were
it not that Words and Phraſes carry not every where Chaucer's Antiquity. Mr. William
Thynn, in his firſt printed Book of Chaucer's Works, with one Column on a ſide, had
a Tale called the Pilgrims Tale, which was more odious to the Clergy than the Speech
of the Plowman. The Tale began thus; In Lincolneſhire faſt by a fenne, Standeth
a religious houſe who doth it kenne. The Argument of which Tale, as alſo
the occaſion thereof, and the cauſe why it was left out of Chaucer's Works, ſhall hereFrancis Thynn's Comment upon Chaucer; and
the Tale it ſelf publiſhed if poſſibly it can be found.
Now, concerning thoſe Books which we have in print; The Canterbury Tales for
the moſt part were of his own Invention; yet ſome of them tranſlated, and penned in
King Richard the Second's Days, and after the Inſurrection of Jack Straw, which was
in the fourth Year of the ſame King; for in the Tale of the Nuns Prieſt, he maketh
mention thereof.
The Romaunt of the Roſe was tranſlated out of French.
Troilus and Creſeid, called Trophe in the Lumbard Tongue, was tranſlated out of
Latin, as in the Preface to the ſecond Book of Troilus and Creſeid he confeſſeth in
theſe Words:
Mary Magdalen, tranſlated out of St. Origen.
The Ballad, Fly from the Preaſe, made by Chaucer on his Death-bed:
The Letter of Cupid is none of Chaucer's doing, but was compiled byvel OckeThomas Occleve,
of the Office of the privy Seal, ſometime Chaucer's Scholar. The which Occleve,
for the Love he bare to his Maſter, cauſed his Picture to be truly drawn in his Book
De Regimine Principis, dedicated to Henry the Fifth; the which I have ſeen, and acSpede, who hath
annexed thereto all ſuch Coats of Arms, as any way concern the Chaucers, as he found
them (travelling for that Purpoſe) at Ewelm and at Wickham.
Occleve, in that Book where he ſetteth down Chaucer's Picture, addeth theſe Verſes:
GEffrey Chaucer departed out of this World the 25th of October, in the Year of our
Lord 1400, after he had lived about 72 Years. Thus writeth Bale out of Leland;
Chaucerus ad canos devenit, ſenſitque ſenectutem morbum eſſe; & dum cauſas ſuas Londini
curaret, &c. Chaucer lived till he was an old Man, and found old Age to be grievous:
and whilſt he followed his Cauſes at London, he died, and was buried at Weſtminſter.
But ſince Mr. Nicholas Brigham did at his own Coſt and Charges erect a fair marOccleve; and theſe
Verſes:
About the Ledge of which Tomb were theſe Verſes; now clean worn out:
Now it ſhall not be amiſs to theſe Epitaphs, to add the Judgements and Reports of
ſome learned men, of this worthy and famous Poet. And firſt of all, Thomas Occleve,
who lived in his Days, writeth thus of him in his Book De Regimine Principis:
The ſame Author again in the ſame Book:
John Lidgate Monk of Bury, an excellent Poet: He traFrance and Italy, to learn the LanJohn Lidgate likewiſe, in his Prologue of Bocchas of the Fall of Princes, by
him tranſlated, ſaith thus in his Commendation.
My Maiſter Chaucer with his freſh Comedies, Is dead alas, chief Poet of Britaine, That whilome made full pitous Tragedies, The faule alſo of Princes he did complaine, As he that was of making ſoveraine, Whom all this land ſhould of right preferre, Sith of our Language he was the Loadſterre.
Afterward in the ſame place do follow fourſcore and three Verſes in the CommenChaucer, and the Books that he made particularly named.
In a Book of Maſter Stow's (but I know not who was the Author) I find theſe
Verſes;
Geffrey Vineſauſe: of whom read in the Recital of Authors.
John Lidgate again, in a Book which he writeth of the Birth of the Virgin Mary,
hath theſe Verſes;
The excellent and learned Scottiſh Poet Gawyne Dowglas, Biſhop of Dunkeld, in the
Preface of Virgil's Eneados, turned into Scottiſh Verſe, doth thus ſpeak of Chaucer:
About William Caxton's Time,William Caxton of London, Mercer, brought Printing out of Germany into England about the latter end of the Reign of Henry the Sixth, and practiſed the ſame in the Abbey of St. Peter at Weſtminſter. It was firſt found in Germany at Mogunce, by one John Cuthembergus, a Knight; and brought to Rome by Conradus an Almaigne, as ſome Authors ſay.Stephanus Surigonius, Poet Laureat of Millain, did
write this Epitaph upon Geffrey Chaucer, in Latin.
PYerides muſae, ſi poſſint numina fletus Fundere, divinas atque rigare genas: Galfridi vatis Chaucer crudelia fata Plangite: ſit lachrimis abſtinuiſſe nephas. Vos coluit vivens: at vos celebrate ſepultum, Reddatur merito gratia digna viro. Grande decus vobis eſt docti muſa Maronis, Qua didicit melius lingua latina loqui. Grande, novum decus Chaucer, famam que paravit: que Heu quantum fuerat priſca Britanna rudis. Reddidit inſignem maternis verſibus, ut jam Aurea ſplendeſcat, ferrea facta prius. Hunc latuiſſe virum nil, ſi tot opuſcula vertes, Dixeris, egregiis quae decorata modis, Socratis ingenium, vel fontes Philoſophiae, Quicquid & arcani dogmata ſacra ferunt. Et quaſcumque velis, tenuit digniſſimus artes: Hic vates parvo conditus hoc tumulo. Ah laudis quantum, praeclara Britannia, perdis, Dum rapuit tantum mors odioſa virum. Crudeles Parcae, crudelia filia ſororum: Non tamen, extincto corpore, fama perit: Vivet in aeternum, vivent dum ſcripta poetae: Vivent aeterno tot monumenta die. Si qua bonos tangit pietas, ſi carmine dignus, Carmina, qui cecinit, tot cumulata modis, Haec ſibi Marmoreo ſcribantur verba ſepulchro, Haec maneat landis ſarcina ſumma ſuae. Galfridus Chaucer vates, & fama poeſis Maternae haec ſacra ſum timulatus humo. Poſt obitum Caxton voluit te vivere cura Guillelnii, Chaucer clare poeta, tui. Nam tua non ſolum compreſſit opuſcula formis, Has quoque ſed landes juſſit hic eſſe tuas.
And as for men of later time, Mr. William Thynn, that learned Gentleman, and
painful Collector of Chaucer's Works, in his Epiſtle Dedicatory to the King's Majeſty,
hath duely ſet forth the commendable Qualities of this Poet; whoſe Judgment we are
the rather to approve, for that he had farther inſight into him than many others: of
whom, John Bale, in his Book De Scriptoribus Britan. Centur. 12. hath ſome 60 Years
paſt delivered this; Guilhelmus Thynn, praeclari generis homo, & ab ineunte aetate in literis
educatus, multo labore, ſedulitate & cura uſus, in perquirendis vetuſtis exemplaribus, Chauceri
opera reſtituit, atque in unum collegit volumen: quod Henrico octavo Anglorum regi dedicavit.
Since whoſe time, two of the pureſt and beſt Writers of our days, the one
for Proſe, the other for Verſe, Mr. Aſcham and Mr. Spenſer, have delivered moſt worChaucer. Mr. Aſcham in one Place calleth him
Engliſh Homer, and makes no doubt to ſay, that he valueth his Authority of as high
Eſtimation as ever he did either Sophocles or Euripides in Greek. And in another place,
where he declareth his Opinion of Engliſh verſifying, he uſeth theſe Words. Chaucer
and Petrark, thoſe two worthy Wits, deſerve juſt Praiſe. And laſt of all, in his Diſcourſe
of Germany, he putteth him nothing behind either Thucidides or Homer for his lively de
Mr. Spenſer, in his firſt Eglogue of his Shepherds Kalendar, calleth him Tityrus, the
God of Shepherds, comparing him to the Worthineſs of the Roman Tityrus Virgil. In
his Fairy Queen, in his Diſcourſe of Friendſhip, as thinking himſelf moſt worthy to
be Chaucer's Friend, for his like natural Diſpoſition that Chaucer had, the ſheweth,
that none that lived with him, nor none that came after him, durſt preſume to revive
Chaucer's loſt Labours in that imperfect Tale of the Squire, but only himſelf; which
he had not done, had he not felt (as he ſaith) the Infuſion of Chaucer's own ſweet
Spirit ſurviving within him. And a little before, he termeth him, Moſt renowned
and Heroical Poet; and his Writings, The Works of Heavenly Wit; concluding his
Commendation in this manner:
Chaucer, Well of Engliſh, undefiled,
And once again I muſt remember Mr. Camden's Authority, who as it were reachAſcham, and the other to Mr. Spenſer, and ſo drawing them toDe Homero noſtro Anglico illud vere aſſeram, quod
de Homero eruditus ille Italus dixit:
And that we may conclude his Praiſes with the Teſtimony of the worthieſt GentlePhilip Sidney, in his Apology
for Poetry, ſaith thus of him; Chaucer undoubtedly did excellently in his Troilus and
Creiſeid; of whom truly I know not whether to marvel more, either that he in that
miſty time could ſee ſo clearly, or that we in this clear Age walk ſo ſtumblingly after
him. Seeing therefore that both old and new Writers have carried this reverend ConHorace,
in the eighth Ode of his fourth Book:
Dignum laude virum muſa vetat mori.
HAving, for ſome Years laſt paſt, been greatly ſolliChaucer abroad into the
World again, in his old dreſs, and under the Protection
of his own Merits, without any new Preface or Letters
Commendatory, it being the Opinion of thoſe Learned
Perſons, that his own Works are his beſt Encomium.
Whereas in the Life of Chaucer, mention is made of
a Tale, call'd the Pilgrims Tale, which is there ſaid to
have been ſeen in the Library of Mr. Stow, and proChaucer's.
THE
Works of Ieffrey Chaucer,
With Additions.
Alſo the Siege and Deſtruction of the worthy City of Thebes;
Compiled by John Lidgate, Monk of BVRY.
Virtue flouriſheth in Chaucer ſtill,
Though Death of him hath wrought his will.
AMongs all other excellencies, moſt
Gracious Soveraigne Lord, wheree Latin, be the Italian and Spaniſh
Tongues; of whom the one by corruption
of the Gothes and Longobardes had her be
Amongs whom, moſt excellent Prince, my
moſt redoubted and gracious ſoveraign lord,
I your moſt humble Vaſſale, Subject & Sere ſaid books, wheret
it might be deputed to be of in the time of ye
Authour, in compariſon, as a pure and fine
tried precious or polliſhed jewel, out of a rude
or indigeſt maſſe or matere, none could to
my thinking occurre, that ſince, or in ye time
of Chaucer, was or is ſufficient, but only
your Majeſty Royal, which by diſcretion and
judgement, as moſt abſolute in wiſedome,
and all kinds of doctrine, could, and of his
innate clemency and goodneſs would, add or
give any Authority hereunto.
For this cauſe, moſt excellent, and in all
vertues moſt preſtante Prince, I as humbly
proſtrate before your Kingly eſtate, lowly
ſupply and beſeech the ſame, yt it woll voucht
would blemiſh, deface, and in many things
clearly aboliſh the laud, renoume, and glory
heretofore compared, and meritoriouſly ade Chriſten Faith, which by your noble Pro
THE Author, in theſe Prologues to his Canterbury Tales, doth deſcribe the Reporters
thereof for two cauſes: firſt, that the Reader, ſeeing the quality of the Perſon, may
judge of his ſpeech accordingly: wherein Chaucer hath moſt excellently kept that decorum,
which Horace requireth in that behalf. Secondly, to ſhew, how that even in our
Language, that may be performed for deſcriptions, which the Greek and Latine Poets in their
Tongues have done at large. And ſurely this Poet, in the judgment of the beſt learned, is not in
PAlamon and Arcite, a pair of Friends and Fellow-priſoners, fight a Combat before Duke Theſeus, for the Lady Emely, Siſter to the Queen Ipolita, Wife of Theſeus. A Tale fitting the Perſon of a Knight, for that it diſcourſeth of the Deeds of Arms, and Love of Ladies.
NIcholas, a Scholar of Oxford, practiſeth with Aliſon the Carpenters wife of Oſney, to de
DEnyſe Simkin, the Miller of Trompington, deceiveth two Clarks of Schollars Hall in Cam
THE Deſcription of an unthriftie Prentice, given to Dice, Women, and Wine, waſting thereby his Maſters Goods, and purchaſing Newgate to himſelf. The moſt of this Tale is loſt, or elſe never finiſhed by the Author.
LAdy Cuſtance the Emperours Daughter of Rome, after her marriage with the Soudan of Sur
The King of Arabie ſendeth to Cambuſcan King of Sarra, an Horſe and a Sword of rare qualitie:
and to his daughter Canace a Glaſs and a Ring, by the vertue whereof ſhe underſtandeth the lan
Old January marrieth young May, and for his unequal match receiveth a foul reward.
A Batcheler of King Arthurs Court is enjoined by the Queen to tell what thing it is that Wo
THE Sompner and the Devil meeting on the way, after conference, become ſworn brethren, and to Hell they go together. A covert invective againſt the Bribery of the Spiritual Courts in thoſe dayes.
A Begging Fryar coming to a Farmers houſe, who lay ſick, obtaineth of him a certain Legacy, which muſt be equally divided among his Covent. A requital to the Friar, ſhewing their cozenage, loytering, impudent begging, and hypocritical praying.
WAlter the Marqueſſe of Saluce proveth the patience of his wife Griſill, by three moſt ſharp trials.
AUrelius, after much labour and coſt beſtowed to win the love of Dorigen, another mans wife, is content in the end, through the good dealing of her and her husband, to loſe both labour and coſt. The ſcope of this Tale ſeemeth a contention in courteſie.
The life and death of Saint Cecily.
A Prieſt of London, more covetous than wiſe, is deceived by a Chanon profeſſing the Art of Alchimy.
Virginius ſlayeth his onely Daughter, rather than that ſhe ſhall be defiled by the letcherous Judge Appius.
A company of Riotours conſpire to kill Death, who killeth them one after another.
A Marchant of S. Deniſe is cozened by his own Wife, and by a Monke called Dan John. This Argument is taken out of Bochas in his Novels.
Domine dominus noſter: quam admirable eſt nomen tuum in univerſa terra.
A miracle of a Chriſtians Child, murthered by the Jewes.
A Northern tale of an outlandiſh Knight, purpoſely uttered by Chaucer, in a differing rime and ſtile from the other tales, as though he himſelf were not the Author, but onely the reporter of the reſt.
Prudence, the diſcreet wife of Melibeus, perſua
AYong man called Melibeus, mighty and rich, begate upon his wife that called was Prudence, a doughter which that called was Sophie.
Vpon a day befell that he for his diſport is
went into the fields him to play: his wife and
eke his doughter had he left within his houſe,
of which the doores were faſt iſhet. Foure of
his old foes han it aſpied, and ſetten ladders
to the walles of his houſe, and by the win
When Melibeus returned was into his houſe, and ſee all this miſchiefe, hee like a mad man, renting his clothes, gan to weep and crie.
Prudence his wife, as farre foorth as ſhee durſt, beſought him of his weping for to ſtint: But not for thy, he gan to weep and cry ever lenger the more.
This noble wife Prudence, remembred
her upon the ſentence of Ovid, in his booke
that cleped is the remedy of loue, whereas he
ſaith, * Hee is a foole that diſtourbeth the moe death of his own proper perſon.
This Melibeus anſwered anon and ſaid:
What man (qd. he) ſhould of his weping ſtint,
that hath ſo great a cauſe for to weep: Ieſus
himſelfe, our Lorde, wept for the death of Lat thy friend is dead (qd. he)
let not thine iyen to moiſt been of teers, ne to
much drie: although teeres comen to thine
eyen, let hem not fall. And when thou haſt fort is joyous and glad in hart:
it him conſerueth floriſhing in his age: But
ſothly a ſorowfull heart maketh his bones
drie. Hee ſaith eke thus, That ſorow in heart
ſlayeth full many a man. Salomon ſayeth,
* That right as mouths in the ſheepes fleiſe
annoieth the clothes, and the ſmall wormes
the tree, right ſo anoieth ſorow the hart of
man, wherefore us ought as well in the death
of our children, as in the loſſe of our tempo
Remember you upon patient Iob, when
hee had loſt his children and his temporall
ſubſtaunce, and in his bodies endured and re
There comen alſo ful many ſubtil flatterers, and wiſe Advocates learned in the lawe.
And when theſe folkes togeders aſſembled
were, this Melibeus in ſorrowfull wiſe ſhew
Sir (qd. he) as to us Surgiens appertaie
wariſhing of your doughter, all be it ſo that
perilouſly ſhe be wounded, we ſhall doe ſo tent
they ſaiden a few words more: That right
as maladies beene by her contraries cured,
right ſo ſhall a man wariſhe warre by peace.
His neigbours full of enuie, his fained
friends yt ſeemed reconciled, & his flatterers,
maden ſemblaunce of weeping, & enpaired
& agrutched much of this matter, in pray
Vp roſe then an Aduocate that was wiſe,
by leaue and by counſaile of other that were
wiſe, & ſaied: The neede for the which wee
beene aſſembled in this place, is a full heauie
thing, & a great matter, becauſe of ye wrong
and of the wickedneſſe yt hath bee doen, and
eke by reaſon of great damages, that in time
comming been poſſible to fallen for the ſame,
and eke by reaſon of ye great riches & power
of the parties both, for the which reaſons, it
were a full great peril to erren in this matter.
Wherefore, Melibeus, this is our ſentence,
we counſaile you abouen all thing, that right
anon thou doe thy diligence in keeping of
thy proper perſon, in ſuch a wiſe yt thou ne
t, we counſaile yt in thine
houſe thou ſet ſufficient garriſon, ſo as they
may as well thy body as thy houſe defend:
But certes to mouen warre, or to doen ſudt ſone deemeth, ſone
ſhall repent. And eke men ſaine, * Thilke
Iudge is wiſe yt ſone vnderſtondeth a matter,
& iudgeth by leiſer. * For all be it tarriyng be
noifull, algate it is not to be reproued in yet ſhewt ſhuld be
doen of her perſon, all be it that he wiſt wel
himſelf wt he would anſwere, yet ne would
he nor anſwere ſuddainly, but he would haue
deliberation, & in the ground he wrote twiſe,
& by this cauſe we asken deliberation: and
we ſhall then by the grace of God counſaile
you that thing that ſhall be profitable.
Vp ſtert then the yong folke at ones, and
the moſt part of that companie haue ſcorned
this old wiſe man, and begun to make noiſe
& ſaid. * Right ſo as whiles that iron is hot
men ſhould ſmite, right ſo men ſhould wreken
her wrongs while that they been freſh & new,
and with loud voyce they cried warre, warre.
Vp roſe then one of the old wiſe, & with his
hand made countenance that they ſhould
holden hem ſtill, and yeuen him audience.
Lordings, qd. he, There is full many a man
that crieth warre, warre, that wote full lite
what warre amounteth. * Warre at his bet weeping in mu
Yet had this Melibeus in his counſaile
many folke, yt privily in his eare counſailed
him certain things, & counſailed him the cone lenger liue in dread. The pro
This Melibe anſwered to his wife Prue maie ſecond reaſon, whereas ye ſay, * That all
women ben wicked: ſave your grace, Certes
ye deſpiſe all women in this wiſe, & he that
all deſpiſeth, as ſaith the booke, al diſpleaſeth.
And Senecke ſaith, * That who ſo woll haue
Sapience, ſhall no man diſpraiſe, but he ſhall
gladly teach the ſcience that he can, without
preſumption or pride: and ſuch things as he
nought ne can, hee ſhall not beene aſhamed to
learne hem, and to enquire of leſſe folke than
himſelfe. And yt ther hath ben many a good
woman, may lightly be prooued: for certes ſir,
our Lord Ieſu Chriſt nold neuer han diſcent, for the great bounte
that is in women, our Lord Ieſu Chriſt, when
he was riſen from death to life, appeared rae entent of Salot there is
no wight that hath parfite bounte ſaue God
alone, as he himſelfe recordeth in his Euant
him ne wanteth ſomwhat of ye perfection of
God that is his maker. Your third reaſon is
this. Ye ſay yt if that ye gouerne you by my
counſaile, it ſhould ſeeme that ye had yeue me
the maiſtrie and the lordſhip of your perſon,
Sir, ſaue your grace it is not ſo, for if ſo were
that no man ſhould bee counſailed but onely
of hem that han lordſhip and maiſtrie of his
perſon, men nolde not bee counſailed ſo oft:
For ſothly thilke man that asketh counſaile
of a purpoſe, yet hath he free will whither hee
woll doe after that counſaile or non. And as
to your fourth reaſon, there as yee ſaine that
the ianglerie of women can hide things that
they wot not, as who ſo ſaieth, yt a woman
cannot hide that ſhe wote. Sir, theſe wordes
been vnderſtonde of women that been ianget in wicked counſaile
women vanquiſh men: God wote that thilke
reaſon ſtant here in no ſtede: for vnderſtondeth
now, ye asken counſaile for to doe wickednes:
* And if ye woll werken wickednes, & your
wife reſtraineth thilke wicked purpoſe, and
ouercome you by reaſon & by good counſail:
certes your wife ought rather to bee praiſed
than blamed. Thus ſhould you vnderſtonde
the Phyloſopher yt ſaieth, * In wicked coune counſaile of
women is either to deere, or too little worth.
But albeit ſo yt full many women bee bad,
and her counſaile vile and nought worth, yet
han men found full many a good woman, &
full diſcrete and wiſe in counſailing. Lo Iat would
haue ſlaine him, and appeaſed the ire of the
King by her wit, and by her good counſaile.
Heſter by her counſaile enhaunced greatly ye
people of God, in the reigne of Aſſuerus the
King. And the ſame bountie in good counſait ye ſhall haue honour in this
caſe.
When Melibe had heard the words of his
wife Prudence, he ſaied thus: I ſee well that
ye words of Salomon be ſooth: For he ſaith,
* The words yt bee ſpoken diſcretly by ordie
body. And wife, becauſe of thy ſweet words,
and eke for I haue proued & aſſaied thy great
Sapience and thy great trouth, I woll go
Now ſir, (qd. dame Prudence) and ſithens
that ye vouchſafe to be gouerned by my count he would be
your counſailour, and ſhapeth you to ſuch
entent that hee yeue you counſaile and com
Firſt, * He yt asketh counſaile of himſelfe,
certes he muſt be withouten ire and wrath in
himſelfe, for many cauſes, The firſt is this:
He that hath great ire and wrath in himſelfe,
he weneth alway that he may doe thing that
he may not do. And ſecondly, he that is irous
and wrothfull, he may not well deeme: And
hee that may not well deeme, may not well
counſell. The third is this, hee that is irous
& wroth, as ſaieth Seneke, may not ſpeake
but blamefull things, and with thilke vicie Apoſtle ſaith, * That
covetiſe is the roote of all harmes. And trut ſone dee
Sir, ye ne be not alway in like diſpoſition, for certes ſome thing that ſeemeth ſomtime to you that is good for to doe, another time it ſeemeth to you the contrarie.
And when ye han taken counſaile in your
ſelfe, and han deemed by good deliberation
ſuch thing as you ſeemeth beſt, than rede I
you that yee keepe it ſecret. Bewray yee not
your counſaile to no perſon, but if ſo be that
yee wene ſikerly, that through your bewraye bete rich man hath ſeld good
counſaile, but if hee have it of himſelfe. And
after that thou ſhalt conſider thy friendes
and thine enemies. And as touching thy
friendes, thou ſhalt conſider which of hem
been moſt faithfull and moſt wiſe, and eldeſt
and moſt approved in counſailing: and of
hem ſhalt thou aske thy counſaile, as the
caſe requireth.
I ſay, that firſt yee ſhall call to your coune heart of a man
deliteth in ſavour that is ſote, right ſo the
counſaile of true friends yeueth ſweteneſſe to
the ſoule. And hee ſaieth alſo, there may noe true friend: For certes
gold ne ſilver bee not ſo much worth as the
good will of a true friend. And alſo he ſaith,
that a true friend is a ſtrong defence, who ſo
that it findeth hath a great treaſure. Then
ſhall ye alſo conſider if that your true friends
be diſcreet & wiſe: for the booke ſaith, Aske
alway thy counſaile of them that bin wiſe.
And by this ſame reaſon ſhall ye call to your
counſaile your friends yt beene of age, ſuch
as ſeeme and beene expert in many thinges,
and been approoved in counſailing. For the
booke ſaieth, * That in olde men is Sapit been eſpecial. For Salot is to ſay, That they be true,
wiſe, and of old experience. And werke not
alway in every need by one Counſailer alone:
for ſometimes behooueth it to bee counſailed
by many. For Salomon ſayth, * Saluation
of things is where as there be many coun
Now haue I told you of which folke yee
ſhall be counſailed: now woll I tell you which
couſaile yee ought to eſchew. Firſt yee ſhall
eſchew the counſailing of fooles, Salomon
ſayth, * Take no counſaile of a foole, for hee
woll counſaile but after his owne luſt & his
affection. The booke ſayth, that the propertie
of a foole is this: * He troweth lightly harme
of euery man, and lightly troweth all bountie
in himſelfe. Thou ſhalt eſchew the counſai
Wherefore Tullius ſayeth, * Among all the
peſtilence that been in friendſhip, the greateſt
is flatterie. And therefore it is more need yt
thou eſchew and dread flatterers, than any ot ſpeae cauſe why it may
not be, for he ſayth, * There as great fire hath
long time endured, that there dwelleth ſome
vapour of heat. And therefore ſaith Salomon,
* In thine old foe truſt thou neuer. For likerly
though thine enemie be reconciled & make
the ſigne of humilitie, and loute to thee with
his head, truſt him neuer: for certes he mat been
thy ſervaunts, and bearen thee great revee counſailing of ſuch folke as coune contrary. Thou
ſhalt haue alſo in ſuſpect the counſailing of
wicked folke, that be alway full of fraud. And
Dauid ſayth, * That blisfull is the man yt
hath not followed the counſailing of ſhrews.
Thou ſhalt alſo eſchew the counſailing of
yong folke, for her counſailing is not ripe, as
Salomon ſaith.
Now ſir, ſithens I haue ſhewed you of ſuch
folke as ye ſhall be counſailed of, and follow
it: now woll I teach you how ye ſhall exae doctrine of Tul
Firſt thou ſhalt conſider thilke thing that
thou purpoſeſt, and vpon that thing that
thou wolt haue counſaile, that very trueth
be ſaid & conſerued, this is to ſay, * Tell truly
thy tale, for he yt ſayeth falſe, may not well
be counſailed in that caſe, of which he lieth.
After this, thou ſhalt conſider the things
that accorden to yt thou purpoſeſt for to doe
by thy counſailours, if reaſon accord thereto,
and eke if thy might may attaine therto: &
if the more part and the better part of your
counſailours accorden thereto or no. Then
ſhalt thou conſider what thing ſhall follow
of her counſailing: As hate, peace, warre,
grace, profite, or damage, and many other
things: and in all things ſhalt thou chuſe
the beſt, and weiue all other things. Then
ſhalt thou conſider of what root is engendred
the matter of thy counſaile, and what fruit
it may conceive & engender. Thou ſhalt eke
conſider all the cauſes, from whence they be
ſprong. And when thou haſt examined thy
counſaile, as I haue ſaid, & which partie is
the better and more profitable, and haſt apt he might bere it. For ye prot thou haſt begunne,
And if ſo be yt thou be in dout, whether thou
maieſt performe a thing or none, chuſe rather
for to ſuffer than to begin. And Peter Alphons
ſaieth, * If thou haſt might to do a thing, of
Now it is reaſon and time that I ſhewe
you when and wherfore that ye may chaunge
your counſaile, withouten reproofe. * Soothly,
a man may change his purpoſe & his coune law ſaith, * That vpon things
that newly betideth, behooueth newe coune law ſaith, * That all beheſts that
be diſhoneſt, ne been of no value: And eke, * If
ſo be that it bee vnpoſſible, or may not gladly
be perfourmed or kept.
And take this for a general rule, * That euet
it may not be chaunged for no condition that
may betide, I ſay that ilke counſail is wicked.
MElibeus, when he had heard the doce
chuſing and in the withholding of my count ye ſeemeth by
our counſailours that wee haue choſe in this
preſent need.
My lord (qd. ſhe) I beſeech you in all humt your coun
Firſt yee haue erred in the aſſembling of
your counſailours: For firſt yee ſhould haue
cleped a fewe folke to your counſaile, & after
yee might haue ſhewed it to mo, if it had bee
neede. But ye haue cleped to your counſail a
great multitude of people, full chargeous &
full noyous for to heare. Alſo ye haue erred,
for there as yee ſhould haue onely cleped to
your counſaile your trew friends, olde and
wiſe, ye haue cleped ſtraunge folke, yong folk,
falſe flatterers, and enemies reconciled, and
folk yt done you reuerence withouten loue.
* And eke yee haue erred, for yee haue brought
with you to your counſaile, ire, couetiſe, &
haſtineſſe, ye which three things been contrae
foreſaid matters ne in due manner, as y• caſe
requireth. Ye haue erred alſo, for ye made no
diuiſion betweene your true friends & your
fained counſailours: ne ye haue not knowne
the will of your trewe counſailours and
friends, old, & wiſe, but ye haue caſt all her
words in an hochpot, and enclined your heart
to the more part and to the greater number
of fooles than of wiſe men. * And therefore ye
counſaylings that beene at congregations
and multitudes of folke, there as men take
more regard to the number, than to the ſat in ſuch
counſaylings fooles han the maiſtrie. Melit he nis not to blame
that chaungeth his counſaile in certaine caſe,
and for certaine and juſt cauſe I am all re
To this ſentence anſwereth anone dame
Prudence, & ſaid: Examineth (qd. ſhe) well
your counſaile, and let vs ſee which of hem
hath ſpoke moſt reaſonably, and taught
you beſt counſaile. And for as much as the
examination is neceſſarie, let vs begin at
Surgiens and Phyſicians, that firſt ſpake of
this matter. I ſay that Phyſicians & Surt they beene highly
& ſouerainly guerdoned for her noble ſpeech,
e curation of your doughter.
For all beit ſo they been your friends, therfore
ſhullen ye not ſuffer, that they ſerue you for
nought, but ye ought therafter guerdon hem,
and pay hem her largeſſe. And as touching y•
propoſition, which the Phyſicians entreteden
in this caſe, this is to ſaine, that in maladies
is, * That contrarie is wariſhed by another
contrary: I would faine know how ye vnder
Lo lo (qd. dame Prudence) how lightly is
euery man enclined to his own deſire & his
owne pleaſaunce, Certes (qd. ſhe) ye wordes
of the Phyſicians ne ſhould not been vndert wiſe: for certes wickedneſſe is not
contrary to wickedneſſe, ne vengeaunce is
not contrarie to vengeaunce, ne wrong to
wrong, but euery of hem encreaſeth and ene counſaile
which was iyeue vnto you by men of Lawe,
and the wiſe folke, and old folke, that ſayden
all by one accord as ye heard beforne, That ot ſayth: * If God ne kept the Citty, in idle
waketh hee that it keepeth. Now ſir, then
ſhould hee commit the keeping of your pert of all hath drede:
* But certes he that thorow hardneſſe of his
heart and through ye hardineſſe of himſelfe,
hath too great preſumption, him ſhall euill
betide. Then ſhall ye euermore encounter,
waite, embuſhments, and all eſpiaile. For
Seneke ſayeth: * The wiſe man yt dredeth
harmes, eſcheweth harmes: * He ne falleth
into no perils, that perill eſcheweth. And all
be it ſo, that thou ſeeme yt thou be in ſecret
place, yet ſhalt thou alway done diligence in
keeping of thy perſon, this is to ſay, ne be not
negligent to keepe thine owne perſon, not
onely for thy greateſt enemy, but alſo for thy
leaſt enemy. Seneke ſayth, * A man yt is well
aduiſed, he dreadeth his leaſt enemie. Ouid
ſayth, * That ye little weſell woll ſlee ye great
Bull and the wild Hart. And the Prouerbe
ſayth, * That a little thorn woll greeue a king
full ſore, and a little hound woll hold ye wild
Bore. But nathaleſſe, I ſay not thou ſhalt
be ſo coward, that thou doubt where as is
no dred. The book ſayth, That ſomemen haue
great luſt to deceiue, but yet they dread to bee
deceiued. And keepe thee fro ye companie of
ſcorners: * For the booke ſayth, With ſcor
Now as to the ſecond point, where
Melibeus anſwered and ſaid, certes I vnt they ben accompliſhed, yet bin they
not worth a ſtraw, but if they been defended
with true friends, that ben old and wiſe. And
underſtondeth well, that the greateſt and the
ſtrongeſt garniſon that rich men may have,
as well to keepen her perſon, as her goods, is,
that they be beloved with her ſubjects, and
with her neighbours. For thus ſayth Tullit no
man may vanquiſh ne diſcomfite, and that is
a lord to be beloved of his citizens, and of his
people.
Nowe ſir, as to the third point, wheret ye ought not ſuddainly ne haſtily proceed
in this need, but that yee ought purueyen
and apparaile you in this caſe, with great
dilligence and deliberation. Verely, I trow
that they ſaied right truly and right ſooth.
For Tullius ſayth: * In every deed or thou bet the
vengeaunce that thou purpoſeſt for to take,
is conſequent, and thereof followeth another
vengeaunce, perill, & warre, and other damt would engen
Now ſir, as touching the fift point, that
Tully cleapeth cauſes, which is the laſt
point, thou ſhalt underſtond, that the wrong
that thou haſt received, hath certain cauſes,
which that clerkes callen oryen, and effycien,
and cauſa longinqua, and cauſa propinqua,
that is to ſay the ferre cauſe, and the nigh
e five wounds
of thy doughter. The cauſe formall, is ye ma
Now ſir, if men would aske me, why that
God ſuffred men to do you this villany. Truly
I cannot well anſwer, as for no ſoothfaſtneſſe.
For ye Apoſtle ſayeth, * That the ſciences, and
the judgements of our Lord God Almightie
been full deep, there may no man comprehend
ne ſearch hem. Natheleſſe by certain preſump
Thy name is Melibe, this is to ſay, a man
that drinketh Honey. Thou haſt dronke ſo
much honey of ſweet temporall richeſſe, and
delices of honours of this world, that thou
art dronke, & haſt forgotten Ieſu Chriſt thy
creatour: Thou ne haſt not doen to him ſuch
honour and reverence as thee ought, ne thou
ne haſt not taken keepe to ye words of Ovid
that ſayth: * Vnder ye Honey of the goods of
thy bodie is hid ye venome yt ſlaeth thy ſoule.
And Salomon ſayth: * If it ſo be yt thou
haſt found honey, eat of the ſame honey that
that ſufficeth: for if ſo bee that thou eat of the
ſame honey out of meaſure, thou ſhalt ſpewe,
and alſo be needy & poore. And peraventure
Almightie God Ieſu Chriſt hath thee in diſe manner that thou haſt treſpaſſed &
offended. Thou haſt done ſinne againſt our
Lord Chriſt, for certes the three enemies of
mankind, that is to ſay: the fleſh, the fiend,
and the world, thou haſt ſuffered hem entre
into thine heart wilfully, by the windowes
of thy body, & haſt not defended thy ſelfe ſuft win
Truly (qd. Melibe) I ſee well that yee ene perils and the
evils yt might fall of this vengeaunce: but
who ſo would conſider in all vengeances the
perils & evils that might ſue of vengeaunce
taking, a man would never take vengeaunce,
and that were harme: for by the vengeaunce
taken been ye wicked men diſcevered fro the
good men. And they yt have will to doe wice
judge, if he doe no vengeaunce of hem that
have deſerved. For Senecke ſayeth thus:
* That maiſter, he ſayth is good, that preveth
ſhrews. And as Caſſiodore ſaith: * A man dret it diſpleaſeth to ye Iudges and Sovet
dreadeth to doe right; maketh men ſhrewes.
Add ſaint Poule the Apoſtle ſayeth in his
Epiſtle, when he writeth unto the Romanes,
* That the Iudge bear not the ſpeare with
If ye woll then take vengeaunce of your
enemies, ye ſhull retourne and have your re
A ha, ſaied Melibe, this vengeaunce liketh me nothing, I bethink me now, and take heed how that fortune hath nouriſhed mee fro my childhood, and hath holpe me to paſſe many a ſtronge paas: Now I would aſſay her, trowing with Gods helpe, that ſhe ſhall helpe mee my ſhame for to avenge.
TRuly ſaied Prudence, if yee woll werke
by my counſaile, yee ſhall not aſſay fore ſame Senek ſayth: * The
more clere and the more ſhining that fortune
is, the more britle & the ſooner broke ſhe is.
Truſteth not in her, for ſhe is not ſtedfaſt ne
ſtable. For when thou troweſt to be moſt ſure
& ſtedfaſt of her helpe, ſhe woll faile and det is nouriſhed by fortune, ſhe maketh him
a great foole. Now then ſith ye deſire & aske
vengeaunce, & the vengeaunce that is done
after the law, and before the judge, ne liketh
you not, and the vengeaunce that is doen in
hope of fortune, is perillous and uncertaine,
then have yee none other remedie, but for to
haue your recourſe vnto the ſoveraine iudge
that vengeth all villanies and wrongs. And
Melibeus anſwerd, if I ne venge me of ye
villanie yt men haue doen to me, I ſummon
or warne hem that haue doen to me that vil
Certes (qd. Prudence) I graunt you, yt
ouermuch ſuffraunce is not good, but yet ne
followeth it not thereof, that euery perſon to
whom men doe villanie, ſhould take of it vene
villanies and iniuries: And therefore thoſe
two authorities, that yee haue ſaied before,
beene onely vnderſtond in the Iudges: * For
when they ſuffer ouermuch the wrongs and
villanies to bee doen, withouten puniſhment,
they ſummon not a man all onely for to doe
newe wrongs, but they commaund it. Alſo
a wiſe man ſayth, * That ye Iudge that cor
But let vs now ſuppoſe, that ye haue leue
to venge you: I ſay yee be not of might and
power, as now to venge you: for if ye woll
make compariſon vnto the might of your adt their con
Furthermore, ye know well, that after the
common ſaw, * It is a woodneſſe, a manne to
ſtriue with a ſtronger, or a more mightie man
than hee is himſelfe: and for to ſtriue with a
man of euen ſtrength, that is to ſay, with as
ſtrong a man as hee is, it is perill: & for to
ſtriue with a weaker man, it is folly, & thert a man
of greater might and ſtrength than thou art,
doe thee greeuaunce: ſtudie and buſie yt rat once hath greet ſhall reſtrain you of vengeance
taking, and make you for to encline to ſuffer,
and for to haue patience in the wrongs that
haue been doen to you. Firſt and formoſt, if
ye woll conſider the faults that been in your
owne perſon, for which faults God hath ſuf
* That we ought patiently take ye tribulatit a man ſeeketh to haue by patience in trie doc
And y• ſame Salomon ſaith: * The angrie
and wrothfull man maketh noiſes, and the
patient man attempreth and ſtilleth hem. He
ſaith alſo, It is no more worth to be patient
than to be right ſtrong. And he yt may haue
ye lordſhip of his own heart, is more to praiſe
than he that by his force or ſtrength taketh
great cities. And therefore ſaieth ſaint Iames
in his Epiſtle, * That patience is a great ver
CErtes (qd. Melibee) I graunt you Dame
Prudence, yt patience is a great vertue
of perfection, but euery man may not haue ye
e
number of right perfit men: For mine heart
may never be in peace, unto the time it bee
avenged. And albeit ſo, yt it was great perill
to mine enemies to doe mee a villanie in tae perill, but fulfilled her wicked will
and her courage: and therefore me thinketh
men ought not repreve me, though I put me
in a little perill for to avenge me, and though
I do a great exceſſe, yt is to ſay, that I venge
one outrage by another.
Ah (qd. dame Prudence) ye ſay your will as
you liketh: but in no caſe of ye world a man
ſhould not do outrage ne exceſſe, for to venge
him. For Caſſiodore ſaith, * That as evill
doth he yt vengeth him by outrage, as he that
doth y• outrage. And therefore ye ſhall venge
you after the order of right, that is to ſay, by
the law, and not by exceſſe, ne by outrage.
And alſo if you woll venge you of ye outrage
of your aduerſaries, in other maner than right
commandeth, ye ſinne. And therefore ſayth
Senek: * That a man ſhall never venge
ſhreudneſſe by ſhreudneſſe. And if ye ſay that
right asketh to defend violence by violence,
and fighting by fighting: certes ye ſay ſooth,
when the defence is doen without intervall,
or without tarrying or delay, for to defend
him, & not for to venge him. And it behooveth,
that a man put ſuch attemperaunce in his
defence, that men have no cauſe ne matter to
repreve him that defendeth him of outrage
and exceſſe, for els were it againe reaſon.
Parde yee know well, yt yee make no defence
as now, for to defend you, but for to venge
you: and ſo ſheweth it, that ye have no will
to doe your deed attemperately, & therefore
me thinketh that patiente is good. For Sa
CErtes (ſaied Melibe) I graunt you yt
when a man is impatient and wrothe
of that that toucheth him not, and that ape law ſaith, * That
hee is culpable that entermetleth or medleth
with ſuch things as appertaineth not unto
him. And Salomon ſaith, * That he that ene eares: For right as hee that ta
When Prudence had heard her husbond
avaunt him of his richeſſe and his money,
diſpraiſing the power of his adverſaries, ſhee
ſpake and ſaied in this wiſe: Certes deare
ſir, I graunt you that yee bee rich and mighe richeſſe is good to hem that
have well gotten hem, and that well can uſe
them. For right as the body of a manne
may not live without the ſoule, no more
may it live without the temporall goodes:
and by richeſſe may a manne get him great
friends. And therefore ſayeth Pamphillus:
If a Nerthes doughter he ſayeth be rich, ſhe
may cheſe of a thouſand menne, which ſhee
woll take to her husbond: for of a thouſand
one woll not forſake her ne refuſe her. And
this Pamphillus ſaith alſo: * If thou be right
happie, that is to ſay, if thou be rich, thou
ſhalt find a great number of fellowes and
friendes. And if thy fortune chaunge, faree greateſt
adverſities of this world is, when a free man
by kinde or of birth is conſtrained by povere almoſe of his enemie. And the
ſame ſayeth Innocente in one of his bookes:
He ſayth, * That ſorrowfull & miſhap is the
condition of a poore begger, for if he aske not
his meat, hee dieth for hunger, and if he aske,
he dieth for ſhame: & algates neceſſity con
Firſt, * Yee ſhall get hem withouten great
deſire, by good leiſure, ſokingly, and not over
haſtily, for a manne that is too deſiring to get
richeſſe, habandoneth him firſt to theft and
to all other evils, And therefore ſayeth Sat haſteth him too buſily to wexe
rich, he ſhall be none innocent. He ſayeth alt haſtily commeth to
e
harme of another perſon. And Tullius ſayth,
* That no ſorow, ne no dread of death, ne noe
idle manne excuſeth him in Winter, becauſe
of ye great cold, and in Sommer becauſe of
ye heat. * For theſe cauſes (ſayth Caton) wat the diuel
which is our enemie, ne find you not vnoccu
Then thus in getting richeſſes ye muſt flie
idleneſſe. And afterward yee ſhull vſe the rit is to ſay, ouer large a ſpender: for
right as men blame an auaricious man, bet al his wits mow not
diſcever him, ne depart him fro his goods,
and knoweth well, or ought to know, that
when he is dead, he ſhall nothing bear with
him out of this world.
And therefore ſaith ſaint Auguſtine. * That
the avaricious manne is likened unto hell,
that the more it ſwalloweth, the more deſire
it hath to ſwallow and devour. And as well
as yee would eſchew to be called an avaricie word
of Salomon, * It is better to have a little good
with the love of GOD, than to have much
good and treaſure, and leſe the love of his
Lord GOD. And the Prophet ſaith, * That
better it is to be a good manne, and have lite Apoſtle
ſayeth, * That there nis thing in this world,
of which wee ſhould have ſo great joy, as
when our conſcience beareth us good wit
Sir, now haue I ſhewed you how ye ſhuld
doe in getting richeſſes, and how yee ſhould
vſe hem: and I ſee well that for the truſt that
ye haue in your richeſſes, ye woll moue warre
and battaile. I counſaile you that ye begin
no warre, in truſt of your richeſſes, for they ne
ſuffice not warres to maintaine. And theret
deſireth and would algates haue warre, ſhall
neuer haue ſuffiſaunce: for the richer yt he
is, the greater diſpences muſt he make, if he
woll haue worſhip and victorie. And Salot a man
hath, the more diſpendours he hath. And thert for your richeſſes ye may
haue much folke, yet behooueth it not, ne it is
not good to begin warre, whereas ye may in
other manner haue peace, vnto your worſhip
and profit: * For the victorie of battailes yt
been in this world, lieth not in great nume vertue of
man, but it lieth in the will and in the hond
of our Lord God almightie. And therfore Iue great number of people, but it comt in battels
fall many perils, and happeth other while,
that as ſoone is the great man ſlaine, as the
little man. And as it is written in ye ſecond
booke of Kings: The deeds of battailes ben
adventurous, and nothing certaine, for as
lightly is one hurt with a ſpeare, as another:
and for there is great perill in warre, there
After that dame Prudence had ſpoken in
this manner, Melibe anſwerd and ſaid: I ſee
well dame Prudence, that by your fair words
and your reaſons that ye haue ſhewed mee,
that ye warre liketh you nothing: but I haue
not yet heard your counſaile, how I ſhall doe
in this need.
Certes (ſaid ſhee) I counſaile you that ye
accorde with your aduerſaries, and that yee
haue peace with hem. For ſaint Iames ſayth
in his Epiſtle: * That by concorde & peace,
ſmall riches wexe great: and by debate and
diſcorde, riches decay. And yee know well,
that one of the greateſt & moſte ſoueraigne
thing that is in this world, is vnity & peace:
And therefore ſayeth our Lord Ieſu Chriſt to
his Apoſtles, in this wiſe: * Well happy beene
they that loue & purchaſe peace, for they be
called the children of God. Ah, ſaied Melibe,
now ſee I well, that ye loue not mine honour,
ne my worſhip, ye know well that mine adt they ne
require ne pray me of peace, ne they aſke not
to be reconciled. Woll ye then yt I goe meeke
me, & obey me to hem, and crie hem mercie?
Forſoth yt were not my worſhip. * For right
as men ſay, ouer great humblenes engen
Then began dame Prudence to make ſeme contrary: And yet, if
I had ſaied, that yee ſhould haue purchaſed
peace and reconciliation, I ne had much miſe Wiſe man
ſayeth: * The diſcention beginneth by another
man, and the reconciling beginneth by thy
ſelfe, And ye Prophet ſaith: * Flie ſhreudneſſe
and doe goodneſſe, ſeeke peace and follow it,
in as much as in thee is. Yet ſay I not, that
yee ſhould rather purſue to your aduerſaries
for peace, than they ſhould to you: for I know
well that ye ben ſo hard hearted, that ye woll
doe nothing for me. And Salomon ſayth: He
that hath ouer hard an heart, he at laſt ſhall
miſhap or misbetide.
When Melibe had heard dame Prudence
make ſemblaunt of wrath, hee ſaied in this
wiſe. Dame, I pray you that yee be not diſe Prophet ſayth: * That troubled eyen
haue no cleare ſight. But ſay and counſaile
me as you liketh, for I am ready to doe right
as ye woll deſire: And if ye repreue me of my
folly, I am the more holden to loue and praiſe
you. For Salomon ſaith, * That he yt repret doth follie, he ſhall find greater
grace, than he that deceiueth him by ſweete
words.
Then ſaied Dame Prudence, I make no
ſemblaunt of wrath ne of anger, but for your
great profit. For Salomon ſaith: * He is more
wroth, that repreueth or chideth a foole for
his follie, ſhewing him ſemblaunt of wrath,
than hee that ſupporteth him and praiſeth
him in his misdoing, & laugheth at his folt
is to ſay, * By the ſorie & heauie countenance
of a man, the foole correcteth and amendeth
himſelfe.
Then ſaid Melibe, I ſhall not conne aun
Then Dame Prudence diſcouered all her
will vnto him & ſaid: I counſaile you (ſaid
ſhee) aboue all things yt ye make peace be
Dame, ſaid Melibeus, doth your will and
your liking, for I put me wholly in your diſpo
Then dame Prudence, when ſhe ſaw the
good will of her husbond, delibered & tooke
aduiſe in her ſelfe thinking how ſhee might
bring this need vnto a good concluſion and
to a good end: And when ſhee ſaw her time,
ſhee ſent for theſe aduerſaries to come vnto
her in a priuie place. And ſhewed wiſely vn
And when they heard the goodly words of
Dame Prudence, they were ſo ſurpriſed and
rauiſhed, and had ſo great joy of hir, yt won
Ah lady (ſaid they) yee haue ſhewed vnto
vs the bleſſing of ſweetneſſe, after ye ſaying
of Dauid the Prophet. For the reconſiling
which we be not worthy to haue in no mant
the ſcience and cunning of Salomon is full
true, for he ſaith: * That ſweet words multi
Certes (ſaid they) wee put our deed & all
our matter & cauſe, all wholly in your good
will, and been ready to obey at ye commaun
Certes (ſaid Prudence) it is an hard thing
and right perilious, that a man put him all
vtterly in arbitration and iudgement, & in
the might and power of his enemie: For Sat I ſhal ſay: * Ne yeueth neuer ye power
ne gouernaunce of thy goods, to thy ſonne, to
thy wife, to thy friend, ne to thy brother: ne
yeue thou neuer might ne maſtry ouer thy bot
he ſhall nothing doe in this need, without my
counſaile: and I ſhall ſo werke in this caſe,
yt by the grace of our Lord God, ye ſhall be
reconciled vnto vs.
Then ſaid they with one voice, worſhipfull
lady, we put vs & our goods al fully in your
will & diſpoſition, and been ready to come,
what day that it liketh vnto your nobleſſe to
limit vs or aſſigne vs for to make our obligae will of you
and of my lord Melibe.
When dame Prudence had herd ye anſwer
of theſe men, ſhe bad hem goe ayen priuely,
and ſhe returned to her lord Melibe, & told
him how ſhe found his aduerſaries full repen
Then ſaid Melibe, * He is well worthy to
haue pardon and foryeueneſſe of his ſinne,
that excuſeth not his ſinne, but knowledgeth
and repenteth him asking indulgence. For
Seneke ſaith, * There is the remiſſion & fore confeſſion is: for cone aſſent
and will of our friends.
Then was Prudence right glad and ioye counſell, aſſent,
and help of your friends, yee haue bee ſteered
to venge you and make war: Right ſo witht
it was ibound.
Then dame Prudence, without delay or
tarying, ſent anone her meſſenger for her kinſe
preſence of Melibe, all the matter, as it is
aboue expreſſed & declared. And praiſed hem
that they would ſay their aduiſe and coun
And when dame Prudence had herd ye aſt if they
woll treate of peace and accord, that they
ſhape hem without delay or tarrying, to come
vnto vs: which thing perfourmed was ine come puniſhing
and ye chaſtiſing and the vengeaunce of this
outrage, in the will of me and of my wife, or
ye woll not.
Then the wiſeſt of hem three anſwerd for
hem all, & ſaid. Sir (ſaid he) we know wel
that we been unworthy to come to the court
of ſo great a lorde & ſo worthy as ye be, for
we haue ſo greatly miſtaken vs and haue oft of your mercifull
pite ye woll conſider our great repentaunce &
lowe ſubmiſion, & graunt vs forgiueneſſe of
our outragious treſpaſſe & offence: For well
we know, that your liberall grace and mercie
ſtretcheth further into the goodnes, than doen
outragious gilt and treſpaſſes into the wic
THan Melibe tooke hem vp fro ye ground
full benignly, and receiued her obliga
And when dame Prudence ſaw her time,
ſhe fained and asked her lorde Belibe, what
vengeance hee thought good on his aduer
To which Melibe anſwerd, and ſaid: Cer
Certes ſaid Dame Prudence, this were a
cruell ſentence, and much ayenſt reaſon. For
ye be rich inough, and haue no neede of other
mens riches. And ye might lightly in this
wiſe get you a couetous name, which is a vie olde good loſe of a man
or good name, is ſoone gone and paſt when it
is not renued. And as touching yt yee ſay,
that yee woll exile your aduerſaries: that
thinketh me much ayenſt reaſon, and out of
meaſure, conſidering the power that they
t is to ſay: Ye muſt yeue moſt eaſie ſentent
moſt courteouſly commandeth, to him men
muſt obey. And therefore I pray you, that in
this neceſſitie and in this need ye caſt ye to ot ouercommeth his heart, ouercomt
your good name may be kept and conſerued,
and that men may haue cauſe and matter to
praiſe you of pite and mercy: and yt ye haue
no cauſe to repent you of thing that is done.
For Seneke ſaieth: * He ouercommeth in an
euill maner, yt repenteth him of his victory.
Wherefore I pray let mercy be in your hert,
to the effect, & entent, that God almightie
haue mercy vpon you in his laſt iudgment.
For ſaint Iames ſaith in his Epiſtle: * Iudget
hath no mercy of another wight.
When Melibe had heard the great skilles
and reaſons of dame Prudence, and her wiſe
informations and teachings, his heart gan
encline to ye will of his wife: conſidering her
true entent, confirmed him anon & aſſented
fully to worke after her counſaile: and than
All be it ſo that of your pride and high pre
A Tragical Diſcourſe of ſuch as haue fallen from high eſtate to extream miſery.
Of a Cock and a Hen: the Moral whereof is to
embrace true Friends, and to beware of Flat
Phoebus keepeth a white Crow, which can ſpeak as a Jay: The Crow accuſeth his wife, of whom he was too jelous, to have played falſe in his abſence. Hereupon with an arrow he ſlayeth his wife: but after repenting of his raſhneſs, he taketh revenge of the Crow.
A complaint againſt the Pride and Covetouſneſs of the Clergy: made no doubt by Chaucer with the reſt of his Tales. For I have ſeen it in written hand in John Stowes Library, in a Book of ſuch Antiquity, as ſeemeth to have been written near to Chaucer's time.
A Sermon againſt divers grievous Sins, and reme
Ieremie .vi. State ſuper vias, & videte, & interrogate de ſemitis antiquis, quae ſit via bona, & ambulate in ea: & invenietis refrigerium ani mabus veſtris.
OVR ſweet Lord God of Heaven,
that no man woll periſh, but woll
that we turne all to the knoweledge
of him, and to the blisfull life that
is perdurable, admoniſheth us by the Pro
Saint Ambroſe ſaith, * That penitence is
the plaining of man for the guilt that he hath
done, and no more to do any thing for which
him ought to playne. And ſome Doctours
ſayth, Penitence is the waymenting of man
that ſorroweth for his ſume, and paineth him
ſelf, for he hath misdone. Penitence with
certain circumſtaunces, is very repentance
of a man that holt himſelf in ſorrow, & other
paine for his guiltes: and for he ſhall be very
penitent, he ſhall firſt bewaile ſinnes that hee
hath done, and ſtedfaſtly purpoſe in his heart
to have ſhrift of mouth, and to do ſatisfactit et is
charged with y• charge of euill vſage. * And
therefore repentaunt folke, that ſtint for to
ſinne, and leue ſinne or ſinne leaue them, holy
Church holdeth them ſiker of their ſaluation.
* And he that ſinneth, & verely repenteth him
in his laſt end: holy Church yet hopeth his
ſaluation, by the great mercy of our Lord Ie
And now ſith I haue declared you, what
thing is Penitence: now ye ſhall vnderſtond,
that there beene three actions of Penitence.
The firſt is, that a manne be baptiſed after
that he hath ſinned. Saint Auguſtine ſayth,
* But he be penitent for his old ſinnefull life,
hee may not biginne the new cleane life: For
certes, if he be baptiſed without penitence of
his old guilt, he retaineth ye marke of bape grace, ne ye remiſſion of his
ſins, till hee haue very repentaunce. Another
default is this, yt men doe deadly ſinne after
that they haue receiued baptiſme. The third
default is this, yt men fall in veniall ſinnes
after her baptiſme, fro day to day. Thereof
ſayeth Saint Auguſtine, * That penitence of
good and humble folk, is the penitence of eue
The ſpeces of penitence ben three: That
one of hem is ſolemne, another is commune,
and the third is priuie. That pennaunce yt
is ſolemne, is in two manners: As to be put
out of holy church in lent, for ſlaughter of
children, & ſuch manner thing. Another is
when a man hath ſinned openly, of which ſinne
the fame is openly ſpoken in the country: &
then holy church by judgement diſtrayneth
him for to do open pennaunce.
Common pennaunce is, yt prieſts enioyn
men in certaine caſe: as for to go perauent men doe all day for pri
Now ſhalt thou vnderſtond what is be• him is enioined, with contri
* The root of this tree is contrition, y• hi• day of
doome, and on the paines of hell. Of this mate drede of God
man forletteth his ſinne. The heat of this ſeed
is ye loue of God, and the deſiring of the joy
perdurable: This heat draweth the heart of
man to God, & doth him hate his ſinne: For
ſoothly there is nothing that ſauoureth ſo
wel to a child, as ye milke of his nurce, ne no• loueth his ſinne,
him ſeemeth, that it is to him moſt ſweete of
any thing: but fro yt time hee loueth ſadly
our lord Ieſu Chriſt, and deſireth ye life pere loue
of God. For which Dauid the prophet ſayth:
I haue loued thy law, and hated wickedneſſe:
He that loueth God, keepeth his lawe & his
word.
This tree ſaw the Prophet Daniel in ſpie viſion of Nabuchodonoſor, when he
counſayled him to doe penitence. Pennaunce
is the tree of life, to hem that it receyue: &
he that holdeth him in very penitence, is bleſe cauſes that moove a
man to contrition, & how hee ſhould be con•
very ſorrow yt a man receiueth in his heart
for his ſinnes, with ſad purpoſe to ſhriue him,
and to doe pennaunce, & neuer more to doe
ſinne: And this ſorrow ſhal be in this manner,
as ſayeth Saint Bernard, * It ſhall be heauie
and greeuous, and full ſharpe & poinant in
heart.
Firſt, for a man hath agilted his Lord &
his Creator, and more ſharpe and poinaunt,
for he hath agilted his father celeſtiall: And
yet more ſharpe and poynaunt, for hee hath
wrathed and agilted him that boughte him,
that with his precious bloud hath deliuered
vs fro the bondes of ſinne, and fro ye cruelte
of the deuill, and from the paines of hell.
The cauſes yt ought moue a man to cone yeres of my
life, in the bitterneſſe of my herte. And God
ſaieth in the Apocalipſe: Remember ye from
whence that ye been fall, for before that time
that ye ſinned, ye were children of God, and
limmes of the reigne of God: But for your
ſinne ye ben waren thral and foule, & meme fende: hate of Angels, ſlaunder of
holye churche, and foode of the falſe Serpent,
perpetuall matter of the fire of hell: And yet
more foule and abhominable, for ye treſpaſſe
ſo oft times, as doeth an hounde that reture Prophet Ezechiel: * Ye ſhall remembre
you of your ways, and they ſhull diſpleſe you
ſothly. Sinnes ben the waies that lede folke
to Hell.
THe ſecond cauſe that ought make a man
to have disdaine of ſinne is this, that
as ſaith ſaint Peter: * Who ſo doth ſinne,
is thrall of ſinne, and ſinne putteth a manne
in great thraldome. And therefore ſaieth the
prophet Ezechiell: * I went ſorrowfull, in diſt
ſaieth Seneke in this matter, he ſaith thus:
* Though I wiſt, that neither God ne manne
ſhould neuer know it, yet would I have diſt man falleth, the more is he thrall,
and more to God and to the world vile and
abhominable. O good God, well ought man
have great diſdaine of ſinne, ſith yt through
ſinne, there hee was free, he is made bond.
And therefore ſaieth ſaint Auguſtine: * If thou
haſt diſdaine of thy ſeruaunt, if hee offend or
ſinne, have thou then diſdaine, that thou thy
ſelfe ſhouldeſt do ſinne. Take regard of thine
own value, that thou ne bee too foule to thy
ſelfe. Alas, well ought they then have diſ
THe third cauſe that ought meue a man
to contrition, is dread of the day of
doome, and of the horrible pains of hell.
For as ſaint Ierome ſayeth: * At euery time
that me remembreth of the day of doome, I
quake: For when I eate and drinke, or what
ſo that I do, euer ſeemeth me y• the trompe
ſowneth in mine eare: Riſeth ye vp that been
ded, and cometh to the judgement. O good
God, muche ought a manne to drede ſuch a
judgment, there as we ſhall be all, * as Saint
Poule ſayeth, before the ſeat of oure Lorde
Ieſu Chriſt, whereas he ſhal make a generall
congregation, whereas no man may bee abe ſinnefull folke
haue at yt time: There ſhall ye fiers & wroth
iudge ſitte aboue, and vnder him the horrible
pitte of hell open, to deſtroy him yt muſt be
knowe his ſinnes, which ſinnes openly beene
ſhewed before God & before euery creature:
And on the left ſide, mo Diuels than anie
heart may thinke, for to hale and drawe the
ſinfull ſoules to the paine of hell: and within
the hearts of folke ſhall be the biting conſci• ayre
that ſhall be ful of thonder clappes and lightt I may
a while bewaile and wepe, er I goe without
returning to the darke londe, couered with
the derkeneſſe of death, to the londe of miſeſe
and of derkeneſſe, whereas is the ſhadowe of
• beginning of the world, nis but a little
thing, at regarde of the ſorrow of hell. The
cauſe why that Iob calleth hell the londe of
derkeneſſe, underſtondeth that he calleth it
londe or earth, for it is ſtable and never ſhall
faile, & derke: For he that is in hell hath dee is
in hell, for it ſheweth him to the horrible Die
derkeneſſe of death, that is to ſay, * That hee
that is in hell, ſhall have defaut of ye ſight of
God: for certes the ſight of god is ye life per• ſins
that ye wretched man hath don, which that
diſturb him to ſee ye face of God, right as the
derke cloud betwixt us and y• ſunne. Londe
of miſeſe, becauſe yt there been three maner
of defautes ayenſt three things that folke of
this world have in this preſent life, that is to
ſay: honours, delices, & richeſſe. Ayenſt hoe re• man doth to man, but in hell is
none honour ne reverence. For certes no more
reverence ſhal be do there to a king, than to a
knave. For which God ſayth by the Prophet
Ieremie: Thoſe folke that me diſpiſe, ſhal be
in diſpite. Honour is alſo called great lorde• more ſhall they be abated and
defoiled in hell. Ayenſte the richeſſe of this
world ſhall they have miſeſe of poverte, that
ſhall be in four thinges. In defaut of treae
miſeaſe of hell ſhall be in defaut of meat and
drinke. For God ſayeth thus by Moyſes:
* They ſhall bee waſted with hunger, and the
byrdes of hell ſhall devour hem with bitter
death, and ye gall of the Dragon ſhall be her
drinke, and y• venum of the Dragon her more
clothing of the ſoule, Where been than the
gay robes, ye ſoft ſhetes, and ye ſmall ſherts?
Lo, what ſayth God of hem by the Prophet
Eſaie, * That under hem ſhall bee ſtrewed
moughtes, and her covertures ſhall bee of
worms of hell. Alſo her miſeaſe ſhall be in dee hath good
frends: but ther is no frend, for neither God ne
no creature ſhall be frend to hem, and ech of
hem ſhall hate other with deadly hate: The
ſonnes and the doughters ſhall rebell ayenſt
father and mother, and kinred ayenſt kinred,
chide, and diſpiſe each other, both day and
night, as God ſayeth by the prophet Miche• loving children that whilom lo• Prophet David: Whoſo that loveth
wickedneſſe, he hateth his ſoul, and who ſo hae more
kinredes that ben in hell, y• more curſinges,
the more chidinges, and ye more deadly hate
there is among hem. Alſo they ſhall have dee five wittes: As
ſight, hearing, ſmelling, favouring, and toue Prophet: Her ſavouring ſhall
be full of bitter gall, & as touching of all her
bodies, icovered with fire, that never ſhall
quench, and with wormes that never ſhall
die. As God ſayth by y• mouth of Eſay: and
for as much as they ſhall not wene that they
may die for pain, and by death flye fro pain,
that they may underſtond in the wordes of
Iob, that ſaieth: There is the ſhadow of
death. Certes a ſhadow hath likeneſſe of the
thing of which it is ſhadowed, but ſhadow
is not the ſame thing of which it is ſhae horrible anguiſh. And why?
For it paineth hem ever as though they ſhold
die anon, but certes they ſhall not die. For as
ſaith ſaint Greg. * To wretched caitiffes ſhall
be death without death, and end without end,
and defaut without fayling, for her death
ſhall alway live, and her end ſhall ever more
begin, and her defaut ſhall not faile.
And therefore ſayth ſaint Iohn the Evan• God hath create all thing in right order,
and nothing without order, but all things
e earth ne ſhall bere hem
no fruit. For, as the Prophet David ſayth:
God ſhall deſtroy ye fruit of the earth, as for
hem, ne water, ne ſhall yeve hem no moiſture,
ne the ayre no refreſhing, ne fire no light.
For as ſaith ſaint Baſilie: * The brenning of
y• fire of this world ſhall God yeve in hell to
hem that been dampned, but ye light and the
clearneſſe ſhall he yeve in Heaven to his chilt they may ſhew
to deliver hem fro pain. And therefore ſaith
Salomon: * The wicked man dyeth, and
when he is dead, he ſhall have no hope to eſe
ſcience to know the paines that ben ordained
for ſinne, he would make ſorowe. That ſci
THE fourth pointe that oughte make a
man have contrition, is the ſorowfull
remembraunce of the good that hee hath left
to doe heare in earthe, and alſo the good
that he hath loſt. Sothly the good werkes
that hee hath lefte, either they be the good
werkes that hee wrought er hee fell in deadly
ſinne, or elſe y• good werkes that hee wrought
while hee laie in ſinne. Sothly the good
werkes that he did before that he fell in ſinne,
been all mortified, aſtoned, & dull by oft ſine life perdurable in heae rightfull man retourn ayen
fro his rightwiſeneſſe and do wickednes, ſhall
he live? nay, for all y• good werkes that hee
hath do, ne ſhall neuer be in remembrance, for
he ſhall die in his ſinne. And upon y• chap• we done
deadly ſinne, it is for nought then to rehearſe
or draw into memory the good werkes that
wee have wrought before: for certes in the
werking of deadly ſinne, there is no truſt ta
no good werke yt we have doen before, that is
to ſay, as for to have thereby the life perdue good werks
quicken and come againe, and helpe and a• good
werkes that men don while they be in deedly
ſinne, for as much as they were doen in deed• pain of hell, or els to get tempo• rather
enlumine or light the heart of y• ſinfull man
to have repentaunce, and eke they availe for
to uſe a manne to do good werkes, that the
feende have the leſſe power of his ſoul. And
thus the curteis Lord Ieſu Chriſt, ne woll
that no good work bee loſte, for in ſomewhat
it ſhall availe. But for as much as the good
werkes that menne doen while they been in
good life, been all amortiſed by ſinne followe good werkes
that men doon while they bee in dedly ſinne,
been utterly dead, as for to have the life per(lay tout pardu mon temps, et mon labure.) * For
certes ſinne bereaveth a man both goodneſſe
of nature, & alſo the goodneſſe of grace. For
ſoothly the grace of the holy ghoſt, fareth like
fire that may not be idle, for fire faileth anon
as it foreletteth his werking: and right ſo
grace fayleth anon, as it foreletteth his wer
THE fifthe thinge that ought to moove a
man to contricion, is remembraunce of
the paſſion that our Lorde Ieſu Chriſt ſuffee ſhame, and the filthe that
men ſaid to him: of the foule ſpitting that
menne ſpitte in his face, of the buffettes that
e remnaunt of his paſſion, that he ſuf
And ye ſhall underſtond, yt in mans ſinne
is every manner order or ordinance, tourned
up ſo doune. For it is ſoth, yt God, reaſon,
ſenſualite, and the bodie of man, been ordaie
Croſſe, whereas there was no part of his bo
THE Sixt thing that ſhould meve a man
to contricion, is the hope of thre things,
that is to ſay: forye veneſſe of ſinne, and the
gift of grace for to doe well, and the glory
of Heaven with whiche God ſhall rewarde
manne for his good deeds: And for as much
as Ieſu Chriſt, yeveth us theſe gifts of his
largeneſſe, and of his Sovereigne bountie,
therefore is hee called (Ieſus Nazarenus Rex
Iudeorum) Ieſus is to ſay, ſaviour or ſalvati
For there been two manner of conſent it is
ayenſt the reverence of God, although his
reaſon conſent not to do yt ſinne indeed: yet
ſay ſome Doctours, that ſoche delite that
Moreover, man ought to ſorowe for his
wicked words, as well as for his wicked
deeds: for certes the repentance of a ſinguler
ſinne, and not repentant of all his other ſins:
or elſe repent him of all his other ſinnes, and
not of a ſinguler ſinne, may not availe: * For
certes GOD almighty is all good, and
therefore, either he foryeveth all, or elſe right
nought. And therefore ſaith ſaint Auguſtin:
I wote certainly, that God is enemy to evet my prayer might
come to him. Ferthermore, contricion muſt
be continuall, and that manne have ſtedfaſt
purpoſe to ſhrive him, and to amend him of
his life. For ſothly while contricion laſteth,
man may ever hope to have foryevenes. And
of this cometh hate of ſinne, that deſtroyeth
both ſinne in himſelf, and alſo in other folke
at his power. For which ſaith David: * They
that love God, hate wickedneſſe: For to love
GOD, is for to love that he loveth, and hate
that he hateth. The laſt thing yt men ſhall
underſtand is this, Wherefore availeth cont contricion ſometime delive
THE ſecond part of penitence is
Confeſſion, that is a ſigne of con
Firſt ſhalt thou underſtonde, that confeſ
Of the ſpring of ſins, ſaith Saint Poule
in this wiſe: * That right as by one man
ſinne entred firſt into this world, and through
ſin death, right ſo the death entreth into all
men that ſinne: and this man was Adam,
by whom ſin entred into this world, when he
broke the commandment of God. And ther• GOD made,
ſaid to the woman: Why commanded God
you, that ye ſhould not eate of every tree in
Paradiſe: The woman answered: Of the
fruit ſaid ſhe of trees of Paradiſe we feed us,
but of the fruit of the middle tree of Paradiſe
God forbode us to eate and touch, leaſt wee
ſhould die. The Serpent ſayd to the wo
Now as to ſpeake of the firſt covetiſe, that
is concupiſcence, after the law of our mem• is to ſay: That ech of us hath
matter and occaſion, to be tempted of the noe Det
he ſometime diſcharge him of hem by ſhrift,
they may full lightly miniſh in him all the
love that he hath to Ieſu Chriſt: and in this
wiſe skippeth veniall ſinne into deadly ſinne.
For certes, the more that a man chargeth his
ſoule with veniall ſinnes, the more hee is ent it drouneth
the ſhippe. And the ſame harme dooth ſomee loue of God, or
more: & therefore the loue of euery thing yt is
not beſet in God, ne done principally for
Gods ſake, although that a man loue it leſſe
than God, yet is it veniall ſinne; and deadly
ſin, when the loue of any thing weigheth in
the heart of man, as much as ye loue of God,
or more. Deadly ſinne, as ſaith ſaint Augut if a man yeue his loue, which
that he oweth to God with all his heart, vnt is to ſay, all the loue
of his heart. Nowe ſith man vnderſtondeth
generallye which is veniall ſinne, then it is
couenable to tell ſpecially of ſin, which that
many a man, peraduenture, deemeth hem
no ſinnes, and ſhriueth him not of the ſame
things, and yet natheleſſe they be ſins ſooth
Alſo when he hearkeneth not benignely the
complainte of the poore: Alſo when hee is in
heale of bodie, and woll not faſt when other
folk faſt, without cauſe reaſonable: Alſo when
he ſleepeth more than needeth, or when he coe body of our Sauiour Ieſu Chriſt.
Alſo, by taking of holy water, by almoſedeed,
by generall confeſſion of Confite or at Maſſe,
and at Complin, and by bleſſings of Biſhops
and Prieſts, and by other good workes.
NOw it is expedient to tell whiche been the ſeauen deadly ſinnes, that is to ſay, chiefetaines of ſinnes. All they ren in o lees, but in diuers manners.
Now been they called ſeauen ſinnes, for as
much as they bee chiefe, and ſpringe of all o• he hath done. Ipo• been his Soueraines. Pre
And yet there is a priuie ſpece of pride, that
waiteth firſt to bee ſalewed, or he woll ſalew,
all be he leſſe worthye than that other is. And
alſo he waiteth or deſireth to ſit, or elſe to go
aboue him in the way, or kiſſe paxe, to be en
Now ben there two maner of prides. One of hem is within the heart of a man, and that other is without. Of whiche foreſayd things ſoothly, and mo than I haue ſayd, appertaine to pride, that is in the heart of man, and other ſpeces of pride been without: but natheleſſe, that one of theſe ſpeces of pride, is ſigne of that other, right as the gaye leueſell at the Tauerne, is ſigne of the wine that is in the Seller. And this is in many thinges: as in ſpeeche and countenaunce, and outragious arraye of clothing: for certes, if there had ben no ſinne in clothing, Chriſt would not ſo ſone haue noted and ſpoken of the clothing of the rich menne in the Goſpell. And as S. Greg. ſaith, * That precious cloathing is culpable for the dearth of it, and for his ſoftneſſe, and for his ſtraungeneſſe and diſguiſing: and for the ſuperfluitie, or for the inordinate ſcantnes of it. Alas, may not a man ſee as in our daies, the ſinnefull coſtlewe arraie of clothing, and namely in too much ſuperfluitie, or elſe in too diſordinate ſcantneſſe.
As to the firſte ſin in ſuperfluity of cloathe dong and in ye myre, on
horſe and alſo on foot, as well of manne as of
woman: that all that trayling is verely (as
in effect) waſted, conſumed, thredbare, and rott though the viſages of ſome of
hem ſeem full chaſt and debonaire, yet noti• been ſo faire, fatte, and
coſtlewe, and alſo in many a nice knaue, that
is ſuſtained becauſe of hem, in curious hare riding of
Goddes ſonne of heauen, and of his harneis,
when he rode vpon the Aſſe, and had none oe ſinne of ſupere flyes that follow
the honie, or elſe the hounds that follow the
caraine. Suche foreſayde folke ſtrangle ſpie goods of nature, ſomee fleſh coueteth ayenſt
the ſpirite: and the more ſtrong that the fleſh
is, the ſorrier may the ſoule be. And ouer all,
this ſtrength of body and worldly hardineſſe
cauſeth full ofte many man to perill & miſ
Now been there generall ſignes of gen
Another is, manne to haue a noble heart
and a dilligent, to attaine to the high vertu• goods of grace, is alſo an outragie people is ſome
AFter pride woll I ſpeak of the foul ſin
of Enuye, which that is after the
worde of the Philoſopher, ſorowe of other
mens proſperitie. And after the worde of
Saint Auguſtine: * It is the ſorow of
other mens weal, and the ioy of other mens
harme. This foule ſinne is platly ayenſt
the holy Ghoſt: All be it ſo, that euerie
ſinne is ayenſt the holy Ghoſte, Yet nathee Diuell, that euer reioye backe backbiter. After backbiting come pain of hel,
or ayenſt pouertie, or loſſe of cattel, or ayenſt
rain or tempeſt, or els grutcheth that ſhrews
haue proſperitie, or elſe for that good menne
haue aduerſitie: and all theſe things ſhould
menne ſuffer patiently, for they come by the
rightful judgment and ordinaunce of God.
Sometime cometh grutching of auarice, as
Iudas grutched ayenſt Maudelein, when ſhe
annointed the head of our Lord Ieſu Chriſt
with her precious oyntment. This manner
murmuring is ſuch as when man grutcheth
of goodneſſe that himſelf doth, or that other
folk doen of her own cattel. Sometime come heart, as afterward I ſhall declare.
Then cometh alſo bitterneſſe of heart, thot vnbindeth all ma• died for his enemies: And in as much as
that loue is more greuous to perfourm, ſo
much is the more great the merit, and ther
AFter Enuy woll I diſcriue the ſinne of
Ire: for ſoothly who ſo hath Enuy up
This ſin of Ire, after the diſriuing of S.
Auſtin, is wicked will to be auenged by word
or by deed. * Ire, after the Philoſopher, is the
feruent blood of man iquicked in his heart,
through which he would harm to him that
he hateth: for certes the hart of man by eſt it is out of all manner iudgIraſcimini, & nolite peccare.
Now underſtond that wicked Ire is in two
manners, that is to ſay, ſodain yre or haſty
yre without auiſement & conſenting of reae reaſon of a manne ne conſent not to
that ſodain yre, and then it is venial. Anot it troue vertue
that is in mans ſoul, and putteth in him the
likeneſſe of the deuill, and taketh the man fro
God that is his rightful Lord. This is a ful
great pleaſaunce to the deuil, for it is ye deuils
forance that is eſchauſed with y• fire of hell:
For certes right ſo as fire is more mightie to
deſtroy earthly things, than any other Ele• hearts of ſome
men, certes it woll laſt peraduenture from
one Eaſter day until another Eaſter day, or
more. But certes the ſame man is full ferre
from the mercie of God all that while.
In this foreſaid deuils fournace there forge
three ſhrewes: Pride, that aye bloweth and
encreaſeth the fire, by chiding and wicked
words: Then ſtondeth Enuy, & holdeth hot
yron in the fire vpon y• heart of man, with a
payre of long tongs of long rancour: And
then ſtondeth the ſin of Contumelie or ſtrife
and cheſte, and battereth and forgeth by vi
Of Ire cometh theſe ſtinking engendrures,
Firſt, Hate, that is old wrath: Diſcord, tho
Some manner of homicide is ſpirituell,
and ſome is bodily. Spirituell manſlaughe child is periſhed: or els ſmi• vnneth it may be releaced, but
that the mercy of God paſſeth all his werks,
it is ſo great, and he ſo benign. Then com• city of a great King: ne by thine head,
for thou mayeſt not make an hayre neyther
white ne black: but ſay by your word, yea,
yea, nay, nay: and what that is more, it is
of euil. Thus ſayeth Chriſt. For Chriſts ſake
ſweare not ſo ſinnefully in diſmembring of
Chriſt, By ſoul, heart, bones, and body: for
certes it ſeemeth, that ye thinke that the cur• pre• law of god
in your ſwearing, as ſayeth Ieremie. iiii. cap.
* Thou ſhalt keep three conditions, Thou
ſhalt ſwear in trouth, in doome, and in right• plague ſhal not depart fro his hous,
while he uſeth ſuch unleful ſwearing. Thou
ſhalt ſwear alſo in dome, when thou art conActuum iiii. capitu. Non eſt aliud nomen ſub
coelo, &c. There is none other name (ſayth
ſaint Peter) under heauen yeue to men, in
which they may be ſaued, that is to ſay, but
the name of Ieſu Chriſt. Take heed eke how
precious is the name of Ieſu Chriſt, as ſayth
S. Poule, ad Philipenſes. ii. In nomine Jeſu, &c.
* That in the name of Ieſu euery knee of
heauenly creatures, earthly, & of hell, ſhould
bow: for it is ſo high and ſo worſhipful, that
the curſed fiend in hell ſhould tremble to hear
it named. Then ſeemeth it, that men that
ſwear ſo horribly by his bleſſed name, that
they deſpiſe it more boldly than the curſed
Iews, or els the diuel, that trembleth when
he heareth his name.
Now certes, ſith y• ſwearing (but if it be
lawfully done) is ſo highly defended: much
more is forſwearing falſely, and yet needleſſe.
What ſay we alſo of hem that delight
hem in ſwearing, and hold it a gentery or a
manly deed to ſwear great othes? And what
of hem that of very uſage ne ceaſe not to
ſwear great othes, all be the cauſe not worth
a ſtraw? Certes, this is horrible ſin. Swea
What ſay we of hem that beleeue on De• God ſuffereth it, for folk ſhould
yeue the more faith & reuerence to his name.
Now woll I ſpeak of leaſings, which ge
Let us now touch the vice of Flatterie,
which ne cometh not gladly, but for dread,
or for couetiſe. Flatterie is generally wrong
Speak we now of ſuch curſing as cometh
of irous hart. Maliſon generally may be
ſaid, euery manner power of harm: ſuch
curſing bereaueth man fro the reign of God,
as ſayth S. Poule. And oft time ſuch cur
Let us then ſpeak of Chiding & Reproch,
which beene full great woundes in mannes
heart, for they unſow the ſeams of friendſhip
in mans heart: For certes, Vnneth may a
man plainly be accorded with him, that him
openly hath reuiled and repreued, & diſclaun• is to ſay, of life
ſpirituel. And ſoothly, a diſſolute tong ſlaeth
the ſpirits of him that repreueth, and alſo of
him which is repreued. Lo, what ſayeth ſaint
Auguſtine: * There is nothing ſo like the
deuiis child, as he which oft chideth. A ſer
A man, which is in a dropping hous in ma
Afterward ſpeak we of Scorning, which
is a wicked ſin, and namely, when he ſcorn
Speak we now of wicked counſail, the
which is a Traitour, for he deceiueth him
that truſteth in him: Vt Achitophel ad Sa• woll annoy ano
Now commeth the ſin of hem that ſow and make diſcord among folk, which is a ſin that Chriſt hateth utterly, & no wonder is: for he died for to make concord. And more ſhame do they to Chriſt, than did they that him crucified: * For God loueth better, that friendſhip be amongs folk, than he did his own body, which that he gaue for vnitie. Therefore ben they likened to the deuil, that euer be about to make diſcord. Now cometh the ſin of Double tongue, ſuch as ſpeake fair before folk, and wickedly behind: or elſe they make ſemblaunt, as though they ſpake of good entention, or els in game and play, and yet they ſpeak of wicked entent.
Now commeth bewraying of counſayle,
through which a man is defamed: certes un• is an open folly: for he that
oft menaceth, he threateth more than he may
perform full oft time. Now commeth idle
words, that is, without profite of him that
THe remedy ayenſt Ire, is a vertue that
men call manſuetude, that is, Debo
Debonairtie withdraweth and refraineth
the ſtirrings and moouings of mans cou
Patience is another remedy ayenſt ire, &
is a vertue y• ſuffereth ſweetly euery mans
goodneſſe, and is not wroth for no harm that
is done to him. The Philoſopher ſayth, That
patience is the vertue that ſuffreth debonair
The firſt greeuaunce is of wicked words,
which ſuffereth Ieſus Chriſt, without grut
That other greeuaunce outward, is to
haue dommage of thy cattel: There ayenſt
ſuffered Chriſt full patiently, when he was
deſpoyled of all that he had in this life, and
that was but his clothes. The third gree
* A Phyloſopher upon a time, that would haue beate his diſciple for his great treſpace, for which he was moued, and brought a rod to beat the childe, and when this child ſawe the rod, he ſayd to his mayſter: what think ye to do? I woll beat thee ſayed the mayſter for thy correction: Forſooth, ſayed the child, ye ought firſt correct your ſelfe, that haue loſt all your patience, for the offence of a child. Forſooth ſayd the mayſter all weeping, thou ſayeſt ſooth: haue thou the rodde my deare child, and correct me for mine impatience. Of patience commeth obedience, through which a man is obedient to Chriſt, and to all hem to which he ought be obedient in Chriſt. And underſtand well, that obedience is perfite, when that a man dooth gladly and haſtely, with good heart entirely, all that he ſhould doe. Obedience generally, is to perform the doctrine of God, and of his ſoueraignes, to which him ought to be obeyſaunt in all rightwiſeneſſe.
AFter the ſinnes of Enuy and Ire, now
woll I ſpeake of the ſinne of Accidie:
tor Enuy blindeth the heart of a man, and
Ire troubleth a man, & Accidie maketh him
heauy, thoughtful, and penſife. Enuy & Ire
maken bitterneſſe in heart, which birterneſſe
is mother of Accidie, and taketh fro him the
loue of all goodnes, then is accidie the anguiſh
of trouble of heart. And S. Auguſtine ſayth:
It is annoy of goodneſſe & annoy of harme.
Certes this is a damnable ſinne, for it dooth
wrong to Ieſu Chriſt, in as much as it be• men ought to do to
Another eſtate is the eſtate of grace, in
which eſtate he is holden to works of peni
The fourth thing is, that Accidie is like
hem that been in the paine of hell, becauſe
of her ſloth and heauines: for they that be
damned, ben ſo bound, that they may ney
Now commeth Sloth, that woll not ſuf
Now commeth wanhope, y• is, diſpair of
the mercy of God, y• commeth ſometime of
too much outragious ſorow, & ſometime of
too much dread, imagining that he hath doe
ſo much ſinne, that it woll not auayle him,
tho he woud repent him, and forſake ſinne:
through which deſpair or dread, he abandont is deſpaired, there
nis no fellonie, ne no ſinne, that he doubteth
for to do, as ſheweth well by Iudas. Cer
Sothly, he yt diſpaireth him, is like to the
coward champion recreaunt, that flieth with• penitent perſon, &
is aboue all his werks. Alas, cannot a man
bethink him on y• Goſpel of S. Luke .xv.
Whereas Chriſt ſayeth, * That as well ſhall
there be ioy in heauen upon a ſinful manne
that doeth penitence, as upon xcix. rightful
men that need no penitence. Look further
in the ſame Goſpel, the ioy & the feaſt of the
good man that had loſt his ſonne, when his
ſonne was retourned with repentaunce to
his father. Can they not remember hem al
Then cometh Sompnolence, that is ſlug
Lo, what ſayeth Salomon? Who ſo woll
by the morow awake to ſeek me, he ſhall find
me. Then commeth negligence or retchleſ•
ignorance be mother of all harms, certes,
negligence is the norice. Negligence ne
doth no force, when he ſhall do a thing, whe
The remedie of theſe two ſinnes is, as
ſayth the Wiſe man: * That he that dread
Then commeth the ſinne that men call
Tarditas, as when a man is ſo latered, or
tarrying or he woll tourn to God: and cer
Then commeth Locheſſe, that is, he that
when he beginneth any good work, anone
he woll leaue and ſtint it, as done they that
haue any perſon to gouern, and ne take of
him no more heed, anon as they find any
contrary or any annoy. Theſe ben the new
ſheepheards, that let their ſheepe wittingly
goe ren to the Wolfe, that is in the breres,
or do not force of her own gouernaunce.
Of this commeth pouerte and deſtruction,
both of ſpirituel and temporel things. Then
commeth a manner coldneſſe, that freeſeth
the hart of man. Then commeth undeuo
AYenſt this horrible ſinne of Accidie,
and the braunches of the ſame, there is
a vertue yt is called Fortitudo, or ſtrength,
through which a man deſpiſeth annoyous
things: this vertue is ſo mightie and
ſo rigorous, that it dare withſtond migh
This vertue hath many ſpeces, the firſt
is called Magnanimitie, that is to ſay,
great courage. For certes, there beho
AFter Accidie woll I ſpeak of Auarice,
and of Couetiſe. Of which ſin Saint
Poule ſayth: * The root of all harmes is
Couetiſe. Ad Timoth .vi. For ſoothly, when
the heart of man is confounded in it ſelf
and troubled, and that the ſoul hath loſt the
comfort of God, then ſeketh he an ſole ſol
Auarice, after the deſcription of S. Au
Couetiſe, is for to couet ſuch things that
thou haſt not. And Auarice is, to withhold
and keep ſuch things as thou haſt, without
right. Soothly, this auarice is a ſin that is
full dampnable, for all holy writ curſeth it,
and ſpeaketh ayenſt yt vice, for it doth wrong
What difference is there betwixt an Ido
Thus may ye ſee, that the offence deſer
* Think alſo, that of ſuch ſeed as churls
ſpring, of ſuch ſeed ſpring Lords: As well
may y• churl be ſaued, as the Lord. The ſame
death that taketh the churl, ſuch death taketh
the Lord. Wherefore I rede, do right ſo with
the churle, as thou wouldſt yt thy Lord did
with thee, if thou were in his plight. * Euery
ſinful man is a churl to ſin: I rede the
Lord certes, yt thou werk in ſuch wiſe with
thy churls, that they rather loue thee than
dread thee. I wote well, that there is degree
aboue degree, as reaſon is, and skill is, that
men do her deuoir, there as it is due. But
certes, extortions, and deſpight of your
underlings, is damnable.
And furthermore underſtand well, that
theſe Conquerors or Tyrants make full oft
thrals of hem that been born of as royal
blood as been they that hem conquere. This
name of Thraldome was neuer erſt know,
till that Noe ſaied, that his ſon Cham ſhould
be thral to his brethren for his ſin. What ſay
we then of hem that pill and doe extortions
to holy Church: Certes, the ſwerd that
men yeue firſt to a knight when he is new
dubbed, ſignifieth, that he ſhould defend ho
And therefore in ſome countries there they
be thrals, when they haue tourned hem to
their fayth, they make her thrals free out of
the thraldome: & therefore, certes the Lord
oweth to his man, that the man oweth to the
Lord. The Pope calleth himſelf ſeruaunt
to the ſeruants of God, but for, as the eſtate
of holy Church ne might not haue been, ne
the common profite might not haue be kept,
ne peace ne reſt in earth, but if God had or• meaſure
of Ieſu Chriſt, but it be amended. Now comt mar• ſeruice muſt be honeſt,
or els not, & alſo, that it be without bargaint yeue Churches to
hem that been not worthy, for they are put in
theeues honds, that ſteale the ſoules of Ieſu
Chriſt, and deſtroy his patrimonie. By ſuch
vnworthy Prieſts and Curates, haue leaud
menne leſſe reuerence of the Sacraments of
holy Church: & ſuch yeuers of Churches put
the children of Chriſt out, & put in y• Church
the Diuels owne ſonnes: they ſell the ſoules
that Lambs ſhould keep, to the Wolf, which
ſtrangleth hem: and therfore ſhall they neuer
haue part of the paſture of Lambes, that is,
the bliſſe of Heauen. Now cometh haſardry,
with his apertenaunces, at tables and rafles,
of which cometh deceit, falſe oths, chidings,
and all rauenous blaſphemings, & renyings
of God, and hate of his neyghbours, waſt
of goods, miſpending of time, and ſometime
manſlaughter. Certes, haſardours ne mow
not bee without greate ſinne. Of Auarice
commeth alſo leaſinges, theft, falſe witneſſe,
and falſe othes: and ye ſhall vnderſtond, that
theſe bee great ſinnes, and expreſſe ayenſt the
commaundements of God, as I haue ſayd.
Falſe witneſſe is in word, and alſo in deede:
In worde, as for to bereaue thy neighbours
good name by thy falſe witneſſe, or bereaue
him his cattell or his heritage, by thy falſe
witneſſing, when thou for ire, or for meede,
or for enuie, beareſt falſe witneſſe, or accu
NOw ſhall ye vnderſtond, that releeuing
of Auarice, is miſericorde and pitty
largely taken. And men might aske, why
that miſericorde and pitty are releeuing of
Auarice: Certes, the auaricious man ſhew
For he delighteth him in the keping of his
treaſure, & not in the reſcuing ne releeuing
of his euin Chriſten. And therefore ſpeake I
firſt of miſericorde. Then is miſericorde (as
ſaith the Phyloſopher) a vertue, by which
the courage of man is ſtirred by the miſeaſe
of him that is diſeaſed. Vpon which miſeri• pains of purgatory by penitence,
and yeueth grace well to do, and at laſt, the
bliſſe of heauen. The ſpeces of miſericorde ben
for to lene, and alſo for to yeue, for to foryeue
and releaſe, and for to haue pity in heart, and
But for as much as ſome folk ben vnmea
Certes, he that is foole large, yeueth not
his cattell, but he leſeth his cattell. Soothly,
what thing that he yeueth for vaine-glory, as
to minſtrels, and to folke that beare his re
AFter Auarice cometh Glotenie, which
is expreſſe ayenſt the commandement
of God. Glotenie, is vnmeaſurable appetite
to eate or to drinke, or els to do ynough to
the vnmeaſurable appetite and diſordained
couetiſe to eat or to drink. This ſinne cor
He that is vſed to this ſin of Glotenie, he
ne may no ſin withſtond, he muſt be in ſer
The third manner ſpece of Glotonie, is
when a man deuoureth his meat, and hath
not rightfull manner of eating. The fourth
is, when through the great abundance of his
meat, the humours in his body been diſtem
In other manner been diſtinct the ſpeces of glotonie, after S. Gregorie. The firſt is, for to eat before time to eat. The ſecond is, when a man giueth him to delicate meat or drink. The third is, when men take too much ouer meaſure. The fourth is, curioſitie, with great entent to make and appareill his meat. The fift is, for to eat too greedily.
Theſe ben the fiue fingers of the deuils hond, by which he draweth folke to ſinne.
AYenſt Glotenie, the remedie is abſti
The fellowes of abſtinence bee attempe
AFter Glotenie commeth Letcherie, for theſe two ſins been ſo nigh couſins, that oft time they woll not depart. God wot this ſin is full diſpleaſant to God, he forſaid himſelfe: Do no letcherie. And therefore he putteth great paines ayenſt this ſin.
For in the old law, if a woman thrall were take in this ſin, ſhe ſhould be beat with ſtaues to death. And if ſhe were a gentlewoman, ſhe ſhould be ſlaine with ſtones. And if ſhe were a biſhops doughter, ſhe ſhould be brent by Gods commaundement.
Moreouer, by the ſin of Lechery God drowned all the world, and after that he brent fiue cities with thunder and lightning, and ſanke hem into hell.
This Sacrament betokeneth the knit
In this heſte (ſaith Saint Auguſtine) is
forbode all manner couetiſe to do Letcherie.
Lo, what ſaith Saint Mathew in the Goſ
This is that other hond of the deuil, with
fiue fingers, to catch the people to his villa• eyen followeth the couetiſe of the heart.
The ſecond finger is the villainous touching
in wicked manner. And therefore ſaith Sat he loueth before God, it is his maue Diuels
hond, is the ſtinking deed of lecherie. Truly
the fiue fingers of gluttonie the Diuel put• ſo doth, certes he caſteth a mayden out
of y• higheſt degre that is in this preſent life,
and bereaueth her that precious fruicte that
the boke calleth the hundreth fruits, I ne can
ſaye it none otherwiſe in Engliſh, but in
Latine it hight (Centeſimus fructus:) Certes
he that ſo doth, is y• cauſe of many damages
and villanies, mo than any man can recken:
right as he is cauſe of many damages ſomee cloſure, through which he det taketh which
Cow that him liketh in the town. So fare
they by women, for right as one free Bull is
ynough for all a town, right ſo is a wicked
Prieſt corruption ynough for all a pariſh, or
for all a countrey: Theſe Prieſts, as ſayth
the booke, ne cannot miniſter the myſtery of
Prieſthood to the people, ne they knowe not
God, they ne held hem not apayed, as ſaith
the book, of ſodden fleſh that was to hem of• fleſh that was
raw. Certes, ſo theſe ſhrews ne held hem not
apayed of roſted and ſodde fleſh, with which
the people fedde hem in great reuerence, but
they woll haue raw fleſh of folkes wiues and
her doughters: and certes, theſe women that
conſent to her harlottrie, done great wrong
to Chriſt and to holy Church, all Hallowes,
and all Soules, for they bireaue all theſe,
hem that ſhould worſhip Chriſte and holye
Church, and pray for Chriſtian Souls: and
therefore haue ſuch Prieſts, & her lemmans
alſo that conſent to her lecherie, the curſing
of all the court Chriſtian, till they come to ae ver
NOw cometh the remedy ayenſt lechery,
and that is, general chaſtite and cont is
to ſay, while that they live both. This, as
ſaith the book, is a full great ſacrament, God
made it (as I have ſaid) in paradiſe, & wold
himſelfe be borne in mariage: and for to hal
Very mariage was eſtabliſhed by God, ere
that ſinne began, when natural lawe was in
his right point in Paradice. And it was or
Firſt, for mariage is figured betwixt Chriſt and holy Church.
Another is, for a man is head of a woman,
alway by ordinaunce it ſhould be ſo. For if a
woman had moe men than one, then ſhould
ſhe haue moe heads than one, and that were
a right horrible ſinne before God, and alſo a
woman mighte not pleaſe ſo many folke at
ones: and alſo there ſhould neuer be reſt ne
quiet among hem, for each of hem would
aske her owne right. And furthermore, no
manne ſhould know his own engendrure, ne
who ſhould haue his heritage, and the wo
Now cometh how that a man ſhould bere him with his wife, and namely in two things, that is to ſay, in ſufferaunce and reuerence, as ſhewed Chriſt when he firſt made woman. For he ne made her of the head of Adam, for ſhe ſhould not claim to great lordſhippe, * For there as the woman hath the maiſtry, ſhe maketh too much variaunce: there need no mo enſamples of this, the experience all day ought inough ſuffice.
Alſo certes, God ne made not woman of the foot of Adam, for ſhe ſhould not be hold too lowe, for ſhe cannot patiently ſuffer: but God made woman of the rib of Adam, for woman ſhould be fellow unto man.
Man ſhould bear him to his wife in faith,
in trouth, and in loue, (as ſayth ſaint Poul)
that a man ſhold loue his wife, as Chriſt lo
Now how that a woman ſhould be ſubiect to her husband: that telleth ſaint Peter, firſt in obedience. And alſo as ſayth the Decree: * A woman that is a wife, as long as ſhe is a wife, ſhe hath none authority to ſwear ne bear witneſſe, without leaue of her husband, that is her Lord, alway he ſhould be ſo by reaſon. She ſhould alſo ſerue him in all honeſtie, and be attemperate of her array.
I woll well that they ſhould ſet her entent
to pleaſe her husbonds, but not by queintiſe
of her array. Saint Ierom ſayth: Wiues
that be apparelled in like and precious purt no wight ſeeketh
precious aray, but only for vainglory to be ho•
delight. The fourth maner is for to under
The ſecond manner of chaſtity is, for to be
a clean widow, & eſchew the embracings of a
man, & deſire the embracing of Ieſu Chriſt.
Theſe ben thoſe that have ben wives, & have
forgot her husbonds, & alſo women yt have
done lechery, & been received by penitence.
And certes, if that a wife could kepe her all
chaſt, by licence of her husband, ſo y• ſhe yeve
never none occaſion yt he offend, it were to
her a great merit. This manner of women,
that obſerveth chaſtity in clothing & in count fulfilleth
holy Church of good odour. The third maner
of chaſtitie is virginity, & it behooveth that
ſhe be holy in heart, & clean of body, then is
ſhe ſpouſe of Ieſu Chriſt, & ſhe is the life of
Angels: ſhe is the praiſing of this world,
and ſhe is as theſe martyrs in egallity: ſhe
hath in her that tongue may not tell, ne
heart think. Virginity bare our Lord Ieſu
Chriſt, and virgin was himſelfe.
Another remedy againſt lechery is, ſpeci
Another remedy ayenſt lechery is, That a
man or a woman eſchew the company of hem
by which he doubteth to be tempted: For
al be it ſo, that the deed is withſtond, yet is
there great temptation. Soothly, a white
wall, although it ne bren not fully, by ſtick
Now after that I have declared you as I
can, the ſeven deadly ſinnes, and ſome of her
braunches, with her remedies. Soothly, if I
could, I would tell you the ten commaunde
NOw for as much as the ſecond part of
penitence ſtont in confeſſion of mouth,
as I began in the firſt chap. I ſay S. Augu
Another circumſtaunce is this, Whether
it be doen in fornication, or in advoutry, or
no, in manner of homicide or no, horrible
great ſinnes, or ſmall, and how long thou
haſt continued in ſinne. The third circum• conſci
Another ſigne is, humility in confeſſion: of
which ſayth ſaint Peter, * Humbleth you vn
The third ſigne is, how thy ſhrifte ſhould
be full of teares if thou may, and if thou
may not weepe with thy bodily eyen, then
weepe in thine heart, which was the confeſ
The fourth ſigne is, that thou ne lette not
for ſhame to ſhew thy confeſſion: Such was
the confeſſion of Magdalein, that ne ſpared
for no ſhame of hein that were at the feaſt, to
go to our Lord Ieſu Chriſt & beknow to him
her ſinnes. The fifth ſigne is, that a manne
or a woman be obeyſaunt to receive the pent hem is injoyned. For certes Ieſu
Chriſt, for the offences of man, was obedient
to death. The ſecond condition of very con• worſe for to
hele. And right ſo fareth ſinne, that longe
time is in a man unſhewed. Certes a man
ought haſtely ſhew his ſins for manie cau
Thy ſhrift muſt be prouided before, and ad
Alſo the very ſhrift asketh certaine condi
Thou ne ſhalt not alſo make no leaſinges
in thy confeſſion for humilitie, peraduenture,
to ſay that thou haſt committed & done ſuch
ſinnes, as of which that thou ne were neuer
giltie. For ſaint Auguſtine ſaith, if that thou
becauſe of thine humilitie, makeſt leſings on
thy ſelf, though thou were not in ſin before,
yet art thou then in ſinne through thy lea
Now haue I told you of very confeſſion, that is the ſecond part of penitence.
THe third part of penitence is Satiſfacti
Theſe almoſe ſhalt thou do of thine own
proper things, and haſtely and priuely if thou
maiſt: but natheleſſe, if thou maiſt not do
it priuily, thou ſhalt not forbear to do almoſe,
though men ſee it, ſo that it be not to doe
for thank of the world, but only for thank
of Ieſu Chriſt. For as witneſſeth faint Ma
•
oriſons or prayers, is to ſay, a pitous will of
heart, that ſetteth it in God, & expreſſeth by
word outward to remeeue harms, and haue
things ſpirituel and perdurable, and ſome
This prayer muſt be truely ſayed, and in
perfect fayth, and that men pray to God or
After this thou ſhalt underſtond, that bo
And thou ſhalt underſtond alſo, that God
ordayned faſting, and to faſting partayneth
foure thinges. Largeneſſe to poore folke:
gladneſſe of heart ſpirituel: not to be an
Then ſhalt thou underſtond, that bodyly
pain ſtont in diſcipline, or teaching by word
or writing, or by enſample. Alſo in wearing
of heer or ſtamin, or of harbergeons on her
naked fleſh for Chriſtes ſake, and that ſuch
maner penaunces, ne make not thine heart
bitter or angrie, ne annoyed of thy ſelfe, for
better is to caſt away thine heer, than to
caſt away the ſweetneſſe of Ieſus Chriſt.
And therefore ſayeth ſaint Poule: clothe
you, as they that been choſen of God in
heart, of miſericorde, debonairte, ſuffraunce,
and ſuch manner of clothing, of whiche Ie
Then is diſcipline alſo, in knocking of thy
breaſt, in ſcourging with roddes, in kneel
Then ſhalt thou nnderſtond, which things
diſturbe pennaunce, and that is in foure
manners, drrade, ſhame, hope, and wan
Now ayenſt the ſhame that a man hath
to ſhriue him, and namely theſe Ipocrites,
that would be hold ſo perfect, that they haue
no need to ſhriue hem: Ayenſt that ſhame
would a man think, that by way of reaſon,
that he that hath not be aſhamed to do foul
things, certes him ought not be aſhamed,
for to doe faire thinges, and that is confeſ
Now for to ſpeak of the hope of hem, that
been ſo negligent and ſlowe to ſhriue hem:
that ſtondeth in two manners. That one is,
that he hopeth for to liue long, and for to
purchaſe much riches for his delight, and
then he woll ſhriue him: And as he ſayeth,
him ſemeth then timely ynough to come to
ſhrift: * Another is, of ſurquidrie that he
hath in Chriſtes mercie. Ayenſt the firſt
vice, he ſhall thenk that our life is in no ſik
The firſt wanhope commeth of that, he
demeth that he hath ſinned ſo greatly and
ſo oft, and ſo long lyen in ſinne, that he
ſhall not be ſaued. * Certes ayenſt that cur
Then ſhall men underſtonde, what is the
fruite of penaunce, and after the wordes of
Ieſu Chriſt, It is an endleſſe bliſſe of hea
If no love is, O God what feele I ſo? And if Love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whence cometh my wo? If it be wicke, a wonder thinketh me, When every torment and adverſite That cometh of him, may to me ſavery think: * Foraie thurſt I the more that iche it drinke. And if that at mine owne luſt I brenne, From whence cometh my wailing & my plaint: If harme agree me, whereto plaine I thenne, I not, ne why, unwery that I feint, O quicke death, o ſweet harme ſo queint, How may of thee in me be ſuch quantite, But if that I conſent that it ſo be? And if that I conſent, I wrongfully Comylaine iwis, thus poſſed to and fro, All ſtereleſſe within a bote am I Amidde the ſea, atwixen windes two, That in contrary ſtonden ever mo, Alas, what is this wonder maladie? * For heat of cold, for cold of heat I die.
Right freſh flour, whoſe I have ben & ſhall, Withouten part of elſewhere ſerviſe, With hart, body, life, luſt, thought, and all, I wofull wight in every humble wiſe That tong can tell, or hart may deviſe, As oft as matter occupieth place, Me recommaund unto your noble grace. Liketh it you to weten ſweete hart, As ye well know, how long time agon That ye me left in aſpre paines ſmart, When that ye went, of which yet bote non Have I non had, but ever worſe bigon, Fro day to day am I, and ſo mote dwell, While it you liſt, of wele and wo my well. For which to you, with dredefull hart trew, I write (as he that ſorow driveth to write) My wo, that every houre encreaſeth new, Complaining as I dare, or can endite, And that defaced is, that may ye wite, The teares, w chthat from mine eyen rain,That wulden ſpeke, if that they durſt, & plain. You firſt beſeech I, that your eyen clere To looke on this defouled nat hold: And over all this, that ye my lady dere Woll vouchſafe this letter to behold, And by the cauſe eke of my cares cold, That ſlaeth my wit, if aught amis me ſtart, Foryeve it me mine owne ſweet hart. If any ſeruaunt durſt or ought of right Vpon his lady pitouſly complaine, Then wene I that I ought be that wight, Conſidred this, that ye theſe moneths twaine Have raried, there ye ſaiden ſooth to ſaine, But tenne daies ye nolde in hoſte ſoiourne, But in two moneths yet ye not retourne. But for as much as me mote nedes like All that you liſt, I dare nat plaine more, But humbly, with ſorowfull ſighes ſike, You right I mine vnreſtie ſorowes ſore, Fro day to day, deſiring evermore To knowen fully, if your will it were, How ye have fared & don while ye be there. Whoſe welfare & heale eke God encreaſe In honour ſuch, that vpward in degree It grow alway, ſo that it never ceaſe, Right as your hart aye can my lady free Deviſe, I pray to God ſo mote it be, And graunt it, that you ſoone vpon me rew, As wiſely as inall I am to you trew. And if you liketh knowen of the fare Of me, whoſe wo ther may no wight diſcrive, I can no more, but cheſt of every care, At writing of this letter I was on live, All redy out my wofull ghoſt to drive, Which I delay, and hold him yet in hond, Vpon the ſight of matter of your ſond. Mine eyen two, in vaine with which I ſee, Of ſorowfull teres ſalt arne woxen wellis, My ſong in plaint of mine adverſite, My good in harm, mine eaſe eke woxen hell is, My joy in wo, I can ſey now nought ellis, But tourned is, for which my life I warie Every joy or eaſe in his contrarie. W chwith your coming home ayen to TroyYe may redreſſe, and more a thouſand ſithe, Than ever I had encreaſen in me joy, For was there never hart yet ſo blithe To ſave his life, as I ſhall ben as ſwithe As I you ſee, and though no manner routh Can meuen you, yet thinketh on your trouth. And if ſo be my gilt hath death deſerved, Or if you liſt no more vpon me ſee, In guerdon yet of that I have you ſerved, Beſeeeh I you, mine owne lady free, That herevpon ye woulden write me For love of God, my right lodeſterre, That death may make an end of al my werre. If other cauſe aught doth you for to dwell, That with your letter ye may me recomfort, For though to me your abſence is an hell, With patience I woll my wo comfort, And with your letter of hope I woll diſport, Now writeth ſwete, & let me thus nat plaine With hope or death, delivereth me fro paine. Iwis mine owne dere hert trew, I wote that when ye next vpon me ſee So loſt have I mine heale & eke mine hew, Creſeide ſhall not conne knowen me, Iwis mine herts day, my lady free, So thurſteth aye mine hert to behold. Your beautie, that vnneth my life I hold. I ſay no more, all have I for to ſey To you well more than I tell may, But whether that ye do me live or dey, Yet pray I God, ſo yeve you right good day, And fareth well goodly faire freſh May, As ye that life or death me may commaund, And to your trouth aye I me recomaund. With heale ſuch, that but ye yeven me The ſame heale, I ſhall none heale have, In you lieth, when you liſt that it ſo be, The day in which me clothen ſhall my grave, And in you my life, in you might for to ſave Me fro diſeaſe of all my paines ſmart, And fare now well mine owne ſweet hart. La voſtre T.
ALas, I weeping am conſtrained to
begin verſe of ſorrowful matter, y•
whilom in floriſhing ſtudie made de• ne commeth not in yeres
that be ſwet, but commeth to wretches often
y•
death, had almoſt dreint mine hedde: but now
for Fortune cloudie, hath chaunged her de
IN the mean while, that I ſtil recorded
theſe thynges with my ſelf, and marked
my wepely complainte, with office of poin• common might of men, with a
liuely colour, & with ſoch vigour & ſtrength
y• it ne might not been nempned, all were it
ſo y• ſhe were full of ſo great age, that menne
woulden not trowen in no manere that ſhe
were of our elde.
The ſtature of her was of doutous iudge• common meaſure of men:
And ſometime it ſeemed, that ſhe touched y•
heaven, with ye hight of her hedde. And when
ſhe houe her hedde higher, ſhe perced ye ſelfe
heauen ſo that the ſight of men looking was
in idell: her clothes were maked of right delie
thredes, & ſubtell craft of per durable mattier.
The which clothes ſhee had wouen with her
owne honds, as I knew well after, by her ſelfe
declaring, & ſhewing to me the beauty: The
which clothes a darkeneſſe of a forleten and
diſpiſed elde had dusked and darked, as it is
wonte to darke by ſmoked Images.
In the nethereſt hemme or border of theſe
clothes, men redde iwouen therein, a Grekiſh
A. that ſignifieth the life Actiue: & aboue that
letter, in y• hieſt bordure, a Grekiſh C. y• ſige vppereſt: natheleſſe, handes
of ſome men hadden kerue that cloth by vio• Mu•
people, I would well ſuffre the laſſe greuouſt is to ſay, by my notefull Sci
ALas, how the thought of this manne,
dreinte in ouerthrowing depeneſſe, dult is driuen with worldly Windes. This
manne that whilome was free, to whome
the heauen was open and knowen, and was
wont to gone in heauenly pathes, & ſawe the
lightneſſe of the redde Sunne, and beheld ye
Sterres of the cold Moone, & which Sterre
in heauen vſeth wandring recourſes ye ſowning
windes mouen, and beſien the ſmothe water
of the Sea. And what Spirite tourneth the
stable heauen, And why the Sterre riſeth out
of the red Eaſt, to fallen in y• weſtren waues.
And what attempreth the luſtie houres of ye
firſt Sommer ſeaſon, and highteth and appae great
weight, & is conſtrained to looken on the foo
BUt time is now of Medicine (qd. ſhe)
more than complaint. Forſooth then ſhee
entending to mewarde, with all ye lookyng of
her iyen, ſaied. Art nat thou he (qd. ſhe) yt whi•
courage of a parfite man? Certes, I yaue thee
ſoche armours, that if thou thy ſelf ne haddeſt
firſt caſt hem away, they ſhoulden haue defen
THus when that night was diſcuſſed ae Sunne is hidde
when the Sterres been couered with clouds,
by a ſwift wind that hight Chorus, and the
Firmament ſtant derked by were plungy
clouds: And that the Sterres not apperen
vpon ye heauen, ſo that the night ſemed ſprad
vpon the yearth. If then the wind that hight
Boreas, iſent out of the Caue of the Coun• cloſed
day, then ſhineth Phebus, iſhaked with ſo
RIght ſo and none otherwiſe, the
Cloudes of ſorrowe diſſolued, and
doen awaie, I tooke heauen, and receyued
mynd to knowen the face of my Phiſicien:
ſo that I ſette myne iyen vpon her, and fat
I cleape welefulneſſ: when that the people of
Epicuriens and Stoiciens, and many other,
enforced them to go raviſh, every many for his
parte, that is to ſaine, ye everich of hem would
drawen, to the defence of his opinion, the
wordes of Socrates. They as in partie of
their praie, to droune me, criyng and debating
there ayenſt, and coruen & renten my clothes,
that I had wouen with mine owne handes.
And with tho clothes that they had araced
out of my clothes, they wenten away, wening
that I had gone with hem euery dele. In
which Epicuriens & Stoiciens, for as moch
as there ſemed ſome traces & ſteppes of my
habite. The folie of wenyng tho Epicuriens
& Stoiciens, my familiers, peruerted ſome,
through ye errour of the wicked multitude of
hem: This is to ſain, for they ſemed Philoſo
* WHo ſo it be that clear of vertue, ſad,
and well ordinate of living, that hath
put vnder foote the proude wierdes, and look
The rages ne the manaces of the ſea, come ire of thilke vnmighty Tiraunt.
But who that quaking dredeth, or deſireth
thing that is not ſtable of his right, that man
that ſo doeth, hath caſt away his ſhilde, and is
remoued fro his place, & enlaſeth him in the
chaine, with the which he may be drawen.
FEleſt thou (qd. ſhee) theſe things? And ene Mouth of Plato
this ſentence, that is to ſaine: That comen
things or communalties weren bliſful, if they
that had ſtudied all fully to wiſedome, gouert
the gouernours of communalties, ſtudien to
get wiſedome. Thou ſaideſt eke by ye mouth
of the ſayd Plato, that it was a neceſſarie
cauſe, wiſemen to taken & deſiren the gouere govert I had learned of thee emong my ſe• put in
the thoughts of wiſe folke, been knowen with
me, that nothing ne brought me to maſtrie or
dignitie, but the common ſtudie of all goode wrathe of more mighty
folke, hath alway been diſpiſed of me, for ſauae man y• hight Canigaſt y• made
alway thaſſaut ayenſt ye proſper fortunes of
poore feoble folke? How oft eke have I put of
or caſt out him Triguill, Prouoſt of ye Kings
hous, bothe of the wrongs that he had begon
to doen, and eke fully performed. How often
haue I couered and defended by the aucthorit is to ſaine, put
myne aucthoritie in perill, for the wretched
poore folke, y• the couetiſe of ſtraungers vn• no man ſhould buye no corne, till his
corne were ſold, and at a greuous dear price:
Beoce withſtood ye ordinaunce, & ouercame
it, knowing al this ye king Theodorike himt were eſtabliſhed vpon
the people, by ſoch a maner of impoſicion, as
who ſo bought a buſhel of Corne, he muſt yee fiueth parte. Cextus. When
it was in ye ſore hongry time, there was eſtae Prouoſt
of the Pretorie, for ye common profite. And ye
knowyng of it, I ouercame it, ſo that the
coempcion was not asked, ne tooke effect.
Pauline a Counſailour of Roome, the rie ace loue of right wiſeneſſe I ne
Alſo, Opilion and Gaudencius, haue accue King, he commaunded, but
if they auoyded the Citee of Rauenne, by cere Senatours. And de• I ſhould have diſtourbed ye accuſour
to bearen Letters, by which hee ſhould haue
made the Senatours giltie, ayenſt the Kings
royall Majeſtie. O Maiſtreſſe, what demeſt
thou of this? Shal I forſake this blame that
I ne no ſhame to thee? Certes, I haue
would it (y• is to ſay) the ſauacion of ye See ordinaunce
and the ſooth (for as much as folk that ben to
comen after our days, ſhall knowenit) I haue
putte it in Scripture, and in remembraunce.
For touchyng the Letters falſely made, by
which Letters I am accuſed to haue hoped
the freedome of Rome, wt appertaineth me
to ſpeaken thereof. Of which Letters, y• fraud
had been ſhewed apertly, if I had had libertie
for to haue vſed & been at confeſſion of mine
accuſours, the which thing in all needs hath
great ſtrength. For what other freedom may
men hopen? Certes, I would that ſome other
freedom might be hoped, I would then haue
anſwered by the words of a man that hight
Camus: for when he was accuſed of Canius,
Ceſar Germanes ſonne, that he was knowe pre
At the citie of Verone, when that the king,
gredie of common ſlaughter, caſt him to
tranſporten vpon all the order of the Senate
the guilt of his royal Maieſtie, of the which
gilt that Albin was accuſed: with how great
ſikerneſſe of peril to me, defended I all the
Senate: Thou woteſt well that I ſay ſooth,
ne I ne auaunted me neuer in prayſing of
my ſelf: For alway, when any wight recei
But now thou mayeſt well ſeene to what
end I am comen for mine innocencie, I re
But now I am remoued from ye Citie of
Rome almoſt fiue hundred thouſand paas, I
am without defence dampned to proſcriptie dignitie, for
they would darken it with medling of ſome
fellonie. They baren me on hond, and ſayd,
that I had pollute & defouled my conſcience
with Sacriledge, for couetiſe of dignitie: &
certes, thou thy ſelf that art planted in me,
chaſedeſt out of the ſiege of my courage all
couetiſe of mortal things, ne Sacriledge ne
had no leaue to haue a place in me before
thine eyen. For thou droppedeſt euery day in
mine ears, & in my thought, thilke command• is to ſay: * Menne
ſhall ſeruen to God, & not to goddes. Ne it
was not conuenient, ne none need to taken
help of the fouleſt ſpirits. I that thou haſt
ordained, and ſet in ſuch excellence, that thou
madeſt me like to God, & ouer this, the right
clean ſecret chamber of mine houſe, that is to
ſay, my wife, & the companie of mine honeſt
friends, & my wiues father, as well holy as
worthy to be reuerenced for his deeds, defen• Philoſophy faith of ſo great blame,
for they trowen, that I haue had affinitie to
malefice or enchauntment, becauſe that I am
repleniſhed and fulfilled with thy teachings,
and enformed of thy maners. And thus it ſuf• harms y• I haue, there betideth yet this
encreaſe of harm, that the gueſſing and the
iudgement of much folke, ne looken nothing
to ye deſerts of things, but only to y• auenture
of fortune, & iudgen that only ſuch things
ben purueyed of God, which y• temporal wil
THou maker of the wheele that beareth
the ſterres, which that art faſtened to
thy perdurable chaire, and turneſt the heae morrow at riſing of the Sun,
and is then icleped Lucifer. Thou reſtrain
O thou gouernour, gouerning all things by
certain end, why refuleſt thou only to gouern
the werks of men by due manner: Why ſuf• ſliding fortune turneth ſo great
enterchaunges of things, ſo that annoyous
paine that ſhould duly puniſh Felons, puni
WHen I had with a continual ſorrowe
ſobbed, or broken out theſe thinges,
ſhe with her chere peſible and nothing amoe countries of hem of Athens:
but one Lord, & one King, and that is God,
that is Lord of thy country, which y• reioye which Lord,
it is a feeedome to be gouerned by y• bridle of
him, & obey to his iuſtice. Haſt thou forgott I ſay, that the face of this
place ne moueth me not ſo mikell, as thine
owne face. Ne I ne aske not rather ye wals
of thy librarie, apparailed and wrought with
yuorie and with glaſſe, than after the ſeat of
thy thoght, in which I put nat whilom books,
but I put that that maketh bookes worthy of
price, or precious, yt is to ſay, ſentence of my
bookes. And certainly, of thy deſerts beſtowed
in common good, thou haſt ſaid ſooth, but afe multitude of thy good deeds, thou haſt
ſaid few. And of ye honeſtie or of ye falſeneſſe
of things that ben oppoſed againſt thee, thou
haſt remembred things that be knowne to all
folke. And of the felonies and frauds of thine
accuſours, it ſeemeth thee to haue touched it,
forſooth rightfully and ſhortly, all mighten
tho ſame things better and more plenteouſly
been couth in the mouth of the people, that
knoweth all this. Thou haſte eke blamed
greatly & complained of the wrongfull deed
of the Senate. And thou haſt ſorrowed for my
blame, & thou haſt wopen for the dommage
of thy renoun that is apaired, and thy laſt ſort
governeth the heauen, ſhould governe the
earth. But for that many tribulations of afch
we willen ſomdele uſen lighter medecines, ſo
ſo that thilke paſſions that be waxen hard in
ſwelling, by perturbations flowing into thy
thoght, mowen waxe eaſie & ſoft, to receiue ye
ſtrength of a more mightie & more eagre
medicine, by an eaſier touching.
WHen that the heauie ſterre of the Cane
ſunne is in the ſigne of Cancre, who ſo
yeueth then largely his ſeeds to the fields
that refuſen to receiue hem, let him gone
beguiled of truſt that he had to his corne, to
Achornes of Okes. If thou wilt gather Vioe purple wood, when
the field chirkinge, agriſeth of colde, by
the feleneſſe of the winde, that hight Aqui
FIrſt wouldeſt thou ſuffer mee to touch
and aſſay the eſtate of thought by a
few demaunds, ſo yt I may underſtond by
the maner of thy curacion? Aske me (qd. I)
at thy will, that thou wolt, & I ſhall anſwer.
Tho ſayd ſhe thus: Whether weneſt thou
(qd. ſhe) that this world be gouerned fooliſhly
by haps & fortunes, or els weneſt thou that
there be in it any gouernement of reaſon? B.
Certes (qd. I) I ne trowe nat in no manner,
yt ſo certain things ſhould bee mooued by Fore ſame thing ſang thou a litt thou
art ſicke, ſens that thou art put in ſo holſome
a ſentence: But let vs ſeeken deeper, I cont
this world be gouerned by God, with which
gouernaile takeſt thou heed that it is gouere ſentence of thy
queſtion, ſo that I ne may not yet anſweren
to thy demands. I was not deceiued (qd. ſhe)
yt there ne failed ſomewhat, by which ye malat is
ye end of things, & whider the entention of all
kind tendeth? I haue heard told it ſome time
(qd. I) but drerineſſe hath dulled my memoe ſens
thou knoweſt the beginning of thinges, yt
thou knoweſt nat what is ye end of thinges,
but ſuche beene ye cuſtomes of perturbation,
and this power they han, yt they may moue
a man from his place, that is to ſay, from y•
ſtableneſſe and perfection of his knowing:
but certes, they may nat al arace him, ne alien
him in all: but I would yt thou woldeſt ant thou art
a man? B. Why ſhould I not remember yt
(qd. I.) Phi. Mayſt thou not tell me then (qd.
ſhe) what thing is a man? Asketh thou not me
(qd. I) whether yt I be a reaſonable mortall
THe ſterres couered with black clouds
ne mow yeten adowne no light, if the
troubled wind that hight Auſter, turning
and wallowing the ſea, medeleth the heat,
that is to ſaine, the boyling up from the bo
AFter this ſhe ſlint a little, and after
that ſhe had gadered by a temper ſtyl• peace of thy thought,
but now is time yt thou drinke & ataſt ſome
ſoft and delitable things, ſo that when they
be entered within thee, it mowen make
way to ſtrenger drinkes of medecines.
Come now forth therefore the ſuaſion of
ſweetneſſe rethorien, which that goeth onely
the right way, while ſhe forſaketh not mine
eſtatutes. And with Rhetorike, come forth
Muſicke, a damoſel of our houſe, that ſin• plaieth ſo harmfully, for ſhe
that is now cauſe of ſo much ſorrow to thee,
ſhuld be to thee cauſe of peace & of ioy. She
hath forſaken thee forſooth, y• which that ne• ſhe ne ſhall forſaken
him. Gloſe. But natheleſſe, ſome books haue
the text thus. For ſooth ſhe hath forſaken thee,
ne there nis no man ſiker, y• ſhe ne hath not
forſaken. Holdeſt thou then thilk welefulneſſe
precious to thee that ſhall paſſen? and is pret nis
not faithfull for to dwell, and when ſhe goeth
away, that ſhe bringeth a wight in ſorow? For
ſens ſhe may not bee withholden at a mans
will, ſhe maketh him a wretch when ſhe de• yoke of her.
For if thou wolt writen a law of wending and
of dwelling to Fortune, which that thou haſt
choſen freely to ben thy lady: Art thou nat
wrongful in that, and makeſt Fortune wroth
and aſper by thine impacience, and yet thou
mayeſt nat chaungen her?
If thou committeſt and betakeſt thy fails to the wind, thou ſhalt be ſhouen, nat thider that thou wouldeſt, but whider that the wind ſhoueth thee. If thou caſteſt thy ſeeds in the fields, thou ſhouldeſt haue in mind, that the yeares been amongs other while plentuous, and other whiie barrein. Thou haſt betaken thy ſelf to the gouernaunce of Fortune, and for thy, it behooueth thee to been obeyſant to the maners of thy lady. Enforceſt thou thee to arreſten or withholden the ſwiftneſſe & the ſweigh of her tourning wheel? O thou fool of all mortal fools, if Fortune began to dwell ſtable, ſhe ceaſed then to ben Fortune.
WHen Fortune with a proud right hand withtourned her chaunging ſtounds, ſhe fareth like the manners of the boiling Euripe.
Gloſa. Euripe is an arme of the ſea, that ebbeth and floweth, and ſomtime the ſtreme is on o ſide, and ſomtime on that other.
Text. She cruell Fortune caſſeth adown
kings, that whylome weren ydrade, and ſhe
deceiuable, enhaunſeth vp the humble there
of him that is diſcomfited: ne ſhe neither
heareth ne recketh of wretched weepings.
And ſhe is ſo hard, that ſhe laugheth and
ſcorneth the weeping of hem, the which ſhe
hath maked to weep with her free will. Thus
ſhe playeth & thus ſhe proueth her ſtrengths,
and ſheweth a great wonder to all her ſer
CErtes, I would pleaden with thee a
few things, vſing the words of For
What wrong haue I done thee? wt goods
haue I beraft thee, that were thine? Striue
or plete with me before what judge that thou
wilt, of the poſſeſſion, of richeſſes, or of dignit thilk things were thine, which
that thou askeſt. When that nature brought
thee forth out of thy mothers womb, I recei
The ſee hath eke his right, to ben ſomtime
caulm and blandiſhing, with ſmooth water,
and ſometime to be horrible, with waues and
with tempeſts. But couetiſe of men, yt may
not be ſtanched, ſhal it bind me to be ſtedfaſt,
ſithen yt ſtedfaſtneſſe is vncouth to my mant thou ne hold nat that I do thee wrong,
though thou diſcend adown, when ye reaſon
of my play asketh it. Woſt thou not how
Creſus, king of Lidians, of which king Cyrus
was ful ſore agaſt, a little beforne that this
Creſus was caught of Cyrus, & ledde to the
fire to be brend, but that a rain diſcended from
heauen, that reſcowed him? And it is out of
mind, how that Paulus, Conſul of Rome,
when he had taken the king of Perciens, wee ſelf king?
What other thing bewaylen the cryings of
tragedies, but only the deeds of fortune, yt
with an aukward ſtroke ouertourneth the
realmes of great nobley. Gloſe. Tragedie
is to ſaine, a ditee of a proſperitie for a time,
that endeth in wretchedneſſe. Lernedeſt not
thou in Grece when thou were young, that in
the entre or in the ſeller of Iupiter, ther ben
couched two tonnes, that one is full of good,
that other is full of harme? What right
haſt thou to plaine, if thou haſt taken more
plentuouſly of the good ſide, that is to ſain, of
richeſſe, & proſperite? And what eke if I be
not all departed fro thee? What eke if my
mutabilitie yeueth thee rightful cauſe of
hope to haue yet better things? natheleſſe,
diſmay thee not in thy thought. And thou yt
art put in the commune realm of all, ne
deſire not to liuen by thine own proper
right.
THough plentie, goddeſſe of riches, hylde
a downe with a full horne, and with
THerefore if that fortune ſpeak with thee
for her ſelf in this manner, forſooth
thou ne hadſt nat what thou mighteſt ane thought.
P. Right ſo it doth (qd. ſhe.) For theſe ne
been yet no remedies of the maladie, but
they been a manner nouriſhing of thy ſor• is to ſay, ſuch guerdon that ſhe neuer
yaue to private man. Wilt thou therefore
lay a reckning with Fortune? She hath now
firſt twidckled vpon thee with a wicked eye.
If thou conſider the number and the manner
of thy bliſſes and of thy ſorows, thou mayeſt
nat forſaken, that nart yet bliſful. For if ther
WHen Phebus the Sunne beginneth
to ſpreade his cleareneſſe with Roſen
charriots, then the ſterre dimmed, paleth her
white cheres by the flames of the ſunne that
ouer commeth the ſterre light: that is to
ſayne, when the ſunne is riſen, the day-ſterre
wexeth pale, and leſeth her light. For the
great lightneſſe of the ſunne, when the wood
wexeth rodie of roſen flours in ye firſt Sum
THen ſaied I thus: O nourice of all vert tourment of thy falſe opinion, that
maiſt thou not rightfully blamen, ne aretten
to things, as who ſayeth, that thou haſt yet
many haboundances of things. Textus. For
all be it ſo, that the idle name of aduenturous
welefulneſſe moueth thee now, it is lefull, that
thou recken with me of how many thynges
thou haſt yet plentie. And therfore, if yt thilk
thing that thou haddeſt for more precious, in
all thy richeſſe of Fortune, be kept to thee, yet
by the grace of God, vnwemmed & vndefout is a man
made of all Sapience and Vertue, the which
man thou wouldſt buy with the price of thine
owne life, he bewayleth the wrongs that men
doen to thee, & not for himſelf: For he liueth
in ſikerneſſe of any Sentence put ayenſt him.
And yet liueth thy wife, that is attempre of
wit, & paſſing other women in cleaneneſſe of
chaſtitie: and for I would cloſe. t
ſhe liueth, loth of this life, and keepeth to thee
only her ghoſt, and is all mate and ouercome
by weeping and ſorrow, for deſire of thee. In
the which thing only, I mote graunten thee,
yt thy welefulneſſe is amenuſed. What ſhall
I ſaine eke of thy two ſons, counſaylours, of
which, as of children of her age, there ſhineth
the likeneſſe of the wit of her father, and of
her elde father? And ſithen the ſouerain cure
of all mortall folk, is to ſauen her own liues,
if thou know thy ſelf, thy goods make thee
more welefull. For yet ben there things dwele comfort of this time
preſent, ne the hope of time coming, to paſſen
ne to failen. Bo. And I pray (qd. I) that faſt
mote they holden: for ye whiles that they holt thou annoy not, or forthink not
of all thy fortune, as who ſaith, I haue ſomet thou tempeſt not
thee thus with all thy fortune, ſithen thou
haſt yet thy beſt thyngs. But I may not fuf• plaineſt ſo weeping & ane condicion of mans goods.
For eyther it commeth not all together to a
wight, or els it ne laſteth not perpetuell. For
ſome man hath great richeſſe, but he is aſhat him were leuer that he were vnknow. And
ſome man haboundeth both in richeſſe and
nobleſſe, but yet he bewayleth his chaſt life,
for he ne hath no wife. And ſome man is, & ſet condicion of his fortune.
For alway, to euery man there is in ſomwhat
that vnaſſayed, he ne wote nought, or els he
dreadeth that he hath aſſayed. And add this
alſo, that euery welefull man hath a full deli
Is there any thing to thee more precious
than thy life? Thou wilt aunſwere, nay.
Then, if it ſo be, that thou art mightie ouer
thy ſelf, that is to ſain, by tranquilitie of thy
ſoul, then haſt thou thing in thy power, that
thou noldeſt neuer leſen: Ne Fortune may
not bynemme it thee. And that thou maiſt
know that bliſfulneſſe ne may not ſtand in
thyngs that been fortunous and temporell,
nowe vnderſtande and gather it together
thus. If bliſfulneſſe be the ſoueraign good
of nature, that liueth by reaſon: ne thilke
thing is not ſoueraign good, that may be ta
For more worthie thing is, and more dign
thilke thing, that may not be taken away.
Then ſheweth it well, that the vnſtableneſſe
of Fortune may nat attayne to receyue very
bliſfulneſſe. And yet moreouer, what manne
that this tumbling welefulneſſe leadeth, eyt fortunous welefulneſſe endeth by
the death of the body: it may not be doubted,
that if death may take away bliſfulneſſe, that
all y• kind of mortal thing ne deſcendeth into
wretchedneſſe, by the end of death. And ſithen
we know well, that many a man hath ſought
the fruit of bliſfulneſſe, not only with ſuffer
Quiſquis volet perennem Cautus ponere ſedem. Stabiliſque nec ſonori Sterni flatibus Euri, Et fluctibus minantem. Curat ſpernere pontum Montis cacumen alti, Bibulas vitet arenas, &c.
WHat manner of folk, ware and ſtable,
that woll founden hem a perdurable
ſeat, and ne will not be caſt down with the
lowde blaſts of the wind Eurus, and will
deſpiſe the Sea, menaſing with floudes: let
him eſchew to builden on the coppe of the
Mountain, or in the moiſt Sands. For if the
fell wind Auſter tormenteth the coppe of the
Mountains with all her ſtrengths, and the
loſe ſands refuſen to bear the heauy weights.
And for thy, if thou wolt flien the perillous
BVt for as much as the nouriſhings of
my reaſon diſcenden now into thee, I
trow it were time to vſen a little ſtronger
medicines. Now vnderſtand here, all were it
ſo, that the yefts of Fortune ne were not
brittle, ne tranſitorie, what is there in hem
that may be thyne in any time? Or els, that
it ne is foul, if that it be looked and conſidert is to ſain, without amenu
O, ſtrait and needy clepe I theſe richeſſes,
ſens yt many folk ne may not haue it all, ne
all ne may it not commen to one man, witht gems
drawn to hemſelf a little of the laſt beautie
of the world, through thentent of her creator
and y• diſtinction of hemſelf: yet for as mikel
as they ben put vnder your excellence, they
ne haue not deſerued by no way, that ye
ſhould maruailen on hem. And the beautie
of fields, delighteth it not mikell vnto you?
B. Why ſhould it not delighten vs, ſith that
it is a right fayre porcion of the right fayre
werke, that is to ſayne, of this world? And
right ſo been we gladded ſometime of y• face
of the ſea, when it is clear: And alſo maruailt thou ſeek after the ſupert fulfilling
of nature with ſuperfluities, certes, thilke
things yt thou wolt threſten or pouren into nat it be a fair thing,
to ſhine with diuers clothings? Of which clot beauty be agreeable to looken vpe nature of the mate ſord himſelf: And if
they ben good men, how ſhall ſtrange and fort thou accomptedeſt for thy goods,
nas not thy good. In which things, if there be
no beautie to be deſired, why ſhouldeſt thou
be ſorrie to leſe them? Or why ſhouldeſt thou
rejoyce thee to hold hem? For if they been
fair of their own kind, wt appertaineth yt to
thee? For alſo wel ſhoulden they haue ben fair
by himſelf, though they were departed from
thy richeſſes. For why, fair ne precious were
they not, for that they commen among thy
richeſſes: but for they ſeemed fair & precious,
therfore thou hadſt leuer recken hem among
thy richeſſes. But what deſireſt thou of Fore diuerſitie of precious
hoſtile ments. And ſooth it is, * That of many
things they haue need, yt many things haue:
And ayenward, of little thing needeth him
that meaſureth his fill after the need of kind,
& not after outrage of couetiſe. It is ſo then,
that ye menne haue no proper good ſet in you,
t is
a diuine creature, by merit of his reaſon, thint wet
anoyeth him yt hath it. Gabbe I of this? Thou
wolt ſay nay. Certes, richeſſes haue annoyed
full oft hem that han had tho richeſſe: Sith
y• every wicked ſhrew for his wickedneſſe is ye
more greedy after other folkes richeſſes.
Wherſoever it be in any place, be it gold or
precious ſtones; he weneth him only moſt
worthy that hath hem. Thou then yt ſo buſie
dredeſt now the ſwerd and the ſpear, if thou
haddeſt entred in the path of this life, annoye way, may
boldly ſing beforne theeves, for he hath not
whereof to be robbed. O precious and right
clear is the blisfulneſs of mortal richeſſe,
that when thou haſt gotten it, then haſt thou
lorne thy ſikerneſſe.
BLisful was the firſt age of men, they
held hem apayed with the meats that
the true fields broughten forth: they ne de
They ſlepten holſome ſleeps vpon ye graſſe,
and dronken of the renning waters, & lien
vnder ye ſhadows of ye high Pine trees. Ne
no gheſte or ſtraunger ne carfe yet ye high ſea
with oares or with ſhippes: ne they ne had
BVt what ſhall I ſay of dignities and powe mountaine
Ethna, when ye flame walloweth up, ne no det thilke dignitie, ye
men cleape the Imperie of counſaylours, the
which whylome was beginning of freedome,
your elders coueited to haue doen away, for
the pride of the counſailours. And right for
that ſame, your elders before that time had
done away out of the Citie of Rome the
Kings name, that is to ſain, they nolde haue
no lenger no King. But now, if ſo be yt digt honour commeth not
to vertue, becauſe of dignitie: but ayenward,
honour commeth to dignitie for cauſe of vere body:
for if thou look well vpon the body of a wight,
what thyng ſhalt thou find more frayle than
is mankinde? The which menne full oft bee
ſlain by biting of Flies, or els with entring or
creeping wormes into the priuities of mans
bodie. But where ſhall men finden any man
y• may exerciſen or haunten any right vpon
another man, but only on his body or els vpt is cleat was caſt
ayen this tyraunt: but this freeman hote off
his owne tongue, and caſt it in the viſage of
thilke wood Tyraunt. So that the torments
that this wood Tyraunt wend to haue made
matter of crueltie, this wiſe man made matt thing is it that a man
may doe to another man yt he ne may receit
folke ne may doen to him the ſame? I haue
heard tolde of Buſiride, that was woont to
ſlean his gheſtes that harbouren in his
houſe: and he was ſlaine himſelfe by Her
Regulus had taken in battaile many men
of Affrick, & caſt hem into fetters: but ſoone
after he muſt yeuen his handes to bee bound
with the cheines of hem that he had whylome
ouercommen. Weneſt thou then, that he be
mightie, that hath power to doen that y• ot theſe
dignities of powers hadden any proper or nat contrarious things ben
joyned. And ſo as I am in certaine that wice yefts
of Fortune, yt moſt plenteouſly commen to
ſhrewes, of which yefts I trowe, it ought bee
conſidred, that no man doubteth that hee is
ſtrong, in whom he ſeeth ſtrength: & in whom
ſwiftneſſe is, ſooth it is that he is ſwift.
Alſo Muſick maketh Muſiciens, and Phit effect of contrarious thyngs.
But certes, richeſſes may not reſtraine auat vicious
luſts holden diſtrained with chains, that ne
mowen not be vnbounden. And dignities,
that be yeuen to ſhreud folke, not onely ne
maketh hem not digne, but ſheweth rather
all openly that they been vnworthy and in• ſame thing of all the yefts of fort hath in himſelfe naturall bountie,
as it is well iſeene, for neither they ioynen
hem not alway to good men, ne maken hem
alway good, to whom they been joyned.
WE have well known, how many great
harmes and diſtructions were doen
by the Emperour Nero. He let brennen
the Citee of Rome, and made ſlea the Senae wombe of his mother, to ſeen where
he was conceyued, & he loked on euery halue
of her dedde cold bodie, ne no teare wette his
face, but he was ſo hard harted, yt he might
be domes man, or Iudge of her dedde beaut is to
ſaine, he gouerned all ye peoples, by Septre
Imperiall, that the Sunne goeth about fro
Eaſt to weſt. And eke this Nero gouerned by
Septre, all the peoples that be vnder ye cold
ſterres, that highten the Septentrions, that is
to ſain, he gouerned all the peoples yt be vne party of the North. And eke Nero goe violent winde
Nothus ſkorclith, and baketh the brenning
e
peoples in the South. But yet ne might not
all his power tourne the woodneſſe of this
wicked Nero. * Alas it is a greuous Fortune
as oft as a wicked ſweard is joyned to cruell
venime, that is to ſay, venemous crueltie to
Lordſhip.
THen ſaid I thus: Thou woteſt well
thy ſelfe, that the couetiſe of mortall
thinges, ne hadden neuer Lordſhip in me.
But I haue well deſired matter of thinges
to doen, as who ſaith, I deſire to haue mate common things, or doen
good deſertes, to profite of ye common. For ſee
now and conſider, how little & how void of
all price is thilke glory, certaine thing is as
thou haſt learned by ye demonſtracion of Ae enuironning of ye yearth
about, ne halt but the reaſon of a pricke, at ye
regard of the greatneſſe of ye heauen, that is
to ſain, y• if there were maked compariſon
of the yearth to ye greatneſſe of heauen, men
would judgen in all that ne held no ſpace. Of
ye which little region of this world, the fourth
part of the yearth is inhabited with liuing
beaſts that we knowen, as thou haſt thy ſelfe
ilearned by Ptholome that proueth it. And if
thou haddeſt withdrawen and abated in thy
thought for thilke fourth part, as moch ſpace
as the ſee & the maries conteynen and ouere region of drought
ouer ſtretcheth, that is to ſaine, ſands & det is ſo
narow & ſo ſtraight throngen into ſo litel
bounds, how mikell conteyneth it in larges &
in great doing. And alſo ſet thereto, yt many
a nacion, diuers of tongue and of maners, &
eke of reaſon of her liuing, inhabite in the
cloſe of thilke habitacle: to ye which nacions,
what for difficultie of wayes, and what for
diuerſitie of language, and what for defaulte
of vnuſage, & entrecomming of Marchane names of ſinguler men ne
may not ſtretchen, but eke ye fame of Cities
may not ſtretchen. At the laſte, certes in the
time of Marcus Tullius, as him ſelfe wrie commont hight Caucaſus:
& yet was Rome well waxen, being redoubte Parthes, & eke of other folk enhabit the maners of diuers folke
& her lawes been diſcordant amonges hemt thilke thing yt ſom men judge wort though a man deliteth him in prayſing
of his renome, he may not in no wiſe bringen
forth ne ſpreden his name to many maner
peoples: & therefore euery man ought to be
apaid of his glory, ye is publiſhed among his
owne neighbours, and thilke noble renome
ſhall be reſtrayned within the bounds of tho
maner folke. But how many a man, yt was
full noble in his tyme, hath the wretches &
nedy foryeting of writers put out of mind &
don away: al be it ſo yt certes thilke things
profiten litell, the which things and writings
long & derke elde do away both hem & eke
her auctours. But ye men ſemen to getten
you a perdurabilitie, when ye thinken in time
comming your fame ſhall laſten. But nathet thing haſt thou,
by which thou maiſt rejoycen thee of long lae abiding of a moment to ten
thouſand winter, for as moch as both tho
ſpaces ben ended, yet hath the moment ſome
porcion of it although it be litell. But nae perdut is endleſſe. * For of things which
yt have ende may be made compariſon, but of
thinges which that been withouten ende, to
things that haue end, may be maked no come etere audience of the
people, & for ydle rumours. And ye forſaken
the great worthineſſe of conſcience & of vert had aſſaied with ſtriuing words an• name of a Philoſophre. This
rather man that I ſpeak of, thought he wold
aſſay, wheder he thilke were a Philoſophre or
no, that is to ſay: if yt he would haue ſuffred
lightly in pacience the wrongs y• were done
to him: this fained philoſophre toke pacience
a litel while, and when he had receiued words
of outrage, he as in ſtriuing ayen & reioyſing
of him ſelf, ſaid at laſt thus: Vnderſtandeſt
thou not that I am a philoſophre? That ot is it to theſe not ſhould thilke glory be, when
he, of whom thilke glory is ſaid to be, nis
right naught in no wiſe? And if ye ſoul, which
that hath in it ſelf ſcience of good werkes, une yerth, wendeth
freely to the heauen, diſpiſeth it not then all
erthly occupacion, and being in heauen reioy
WHo ſo that with ouerthrowing thought
onely ſeeketh glory of fame, and we
Where wonen now the bones of trew Fae
lenger for wind of your mortal name, when
one cruel day ſhall take away this alſo, then
ſhall ye die the ſecond death. The firſt death
he clepeth here the departing of the body,
and the ſecond death here the ſtinting of the
renome of fame.
BVt for as moch as thou ſhalt not wenen
(qd. ſhe) that I beare an untreatable
batayle ayenſt Fortune, yet ſometimes it
be falleth that ſhe, nothing diſceiuable, det contrarious fortune profiteth
more to men, than fortune debonayre. For alt contrary fortune teacheth. The
amiable fortune blindeth with the beautie of
her falſe goodes the harts of folks that uſen
hem: the contrary Fortune unbindeth hem
with the knowing of frele welefulneſſe. Tha
THat the world with ſtable faith varieth
accordable chaungings: that the con
BY this ſhe had ended her ſong, when
the ſweetneſſe of her dytie had
through perced mee, that was deſit is to ſaine, to
herken the bet what ſhe ſhould ſay: ſo yt a litel
after I ſaid thus, O thou that art ſouerain
comfort of corages anguiſhous, ſo thou haſt
remounted & nouriſhed me with ye weight of
thy ſentences, & with delite of ſinging ſo that
I trowe not that I be unperegall to y• ſtrokes
of Fortune: as who ſaith, I dare well now
ſuffren all thaſſauts of Fortune, & well det weren right
ſharpe, not only y• I am not agriſen of hem
now, but I deſirous of hearing, ask greatly
to hearen ye remedies. Then ſaied ſhe thus:
That feled I well (qd. ſhe) when that thou ene remnant
of things that ben yet to ſay ben ſoch, yt firſt
when men taſte hem they bene biting: But
when they bene receiued within a wight, then
ben they ſwete. But for thou ſayſt that thou
art ſo deſirous to hearken hem, with how
great brenning wouldeſt thou glowen, if thou
wiltes whider I wold leden thee? B. Whider
is that (qd. I) P. To thilke very blisfulneſſe
(qd. ſhe) of which thine hart dremeth. But for
as moch as thy ſight is occupied and diſtour
WHo ſo woll ſowe a field plenteous, let
him firſt deliueren it of thornes, and
kerue aſonder with his hoke the buſhes and
the ferne, ſo that the corne may commen
heauie of eres and of greines. * Hony is the
more ſwete if mouths haue firſt taſted ſauors
that he wycke. The Sterres ſhinen more a• day the fairer ledeth the roſen horſe of the
ſonne. * And right ſo thou, beholding firſt y•
falſe goods, begin to withdraw thy neck fro yt
yearthly affections, and afterwards the very
goods ſhullen entren into thy corage.
THo faſtened ſhe a litel the ſight of her
eien, and ſhe withdrew her right as it
were into the ſtrait ſeate of her thought,
and began to ſpeake right thus: All the
cures (qd. ſhe) of mortall folke, which that
trauailen hem in many maner ſtudies, gon
certes by diuers wayes: but natheleſſe they
enforcen hem all to commen onely to thende
of blisfulnes. And blisfulnes is ſoch a good,
that who ſo hath gotten it, he ne may over
that thing more deſire. And this thing fore congregacion
of all goodes, ye which blisfulneſſe (as I haue
ſayd) all mortal folke enforcen hem to get by
diuers ways. For why, the couetiſe of euery
good is naturelly planted in ye harts of men:
but the miſwandring errour miſledeth hem
into falſe goods. Of the which men, ſome of
hem wenen that ſoueraine good be to liuen
without need of any thing. And other men
demen, that ſoueraine good to be right digne
of reuerence, & enforcen hem to be reuerent to ben deſpiſed? Certes there
may no man forſake that all thing yt is right
excellent and noble, that it ne ſemeth be right
clere and renomed. For certes it needeth not
to ſay, that bliſfulneſſe be anguiſhous ne dre
IT lyketh me to ſhew by ſubtil ſong, with
ſlack and delitable ſowne of ſtrings, how
that nature mightely enclineth aud flitteth
by the gouernment of things, and by ſoche
lawe ſhee purueiable keepeth the great
world, and how ſhe binding reſtraineth all
things by a bonde that may not be unboun
CErtes alſo ye men that ben erthly crea
In this wiſe may need been comforted by
richeſſe: but certes, need ne may not all vtt may it then be, that ye wenen
that richeſſes mowen yeuen you ſuffiſaunce?
AL were it ſo, that a noble couetous
man had a riuer, or a gutter fleeting
all of gold, yet ſhould it neuer ſtaunch his
couetiſe: and although he had his neck char
BVT dignities, to whom they be com
AL be it ſo, that the proude Nero with
all his wode luxure, kembe him and
apparelled him with faire purpure of Tirie,
and with white peerles. Algates yet there
Who would then reaſonably wenen, that blisfulneſſe were in ſoch honours, as been yeuen by vicious ſhrewes.
BVt reignes and familiarities of kynges,
may they maken a man to ben might the realmes
of mankinde ſtretchen brode, yet mote there
need ben moch folke, ouer which that euery
King ne hath no lordſhip ne commaundet maketh folke bliſfull, right
on ye ſame ſide no powere entreth vnderneth
that maketh hem wretches. In this maner
then moten kings haue more porcion of wret
A tyraunt that was king of Cecile, yt had
aſſayed ye perill of his eſſate, ſhewed by ſimie dredes of realmes by gaſteneſſe of a
ſwerde, that hong ouer the head of his famit may
not done away the bitings of buſineſſe, ne eſ
And certes yet woulden they liuen in ſikert thilke
man be mighty, yt thou ſeeſt that he would
done yt he may not done? And holdeſt thou
then him a mighty man, yt hath enuironned
his ſides with men of arms or ſergeants, &
dredeth more hem that he maketh agaſt, than
they dreden him? and that is put in ye hands
of his ſeruaunts, why hee ſhould ſeeme mighe royall power of kinges in
hole eſtate, & in eſtate abated, full oft throw
Nero conſtrayned Senecke, his familier
and his mayſter, to cheſen on what death he
would die. Antonius commanded yt knights
ſlowen with her ſwerds Papinian his famie
great weight, that is to ſaine, of lords power,
or of Fortune, draweth hem that ſhullen fall,
neyther of hem ne might doe yt hee would.
What thing is then thilk power that though
men have it yet they ben agaſt, & when thou
wouldeſt haue it, thou nart not ſiker? And if
thou wouldeſt forleten it, thou maieſt nat eſ
WHo ſo woll be mightie, he mote daune foule raynes
of lechery. For all be it ſo, that the lordſhip
ſtretch ſo ferre, yt the country of Inde quat ſee, that hight Tyle,
be thrall to thee: yet if thou maieſt nat putten
away thy foule derke deſires, and driuen out
fro thee wretched complaints, certes, it nis
no power that thou haſt.
BUt glory, how deceiuable & how foule is
it oft? For which thynge, not vnskilfult is to ſaine, maker of dities,
yt highten tragedies, cried and ſaid: O glo
And what thing may been thought fouler
than ſuche prayſing? For thilke folke that
been prayſed falſely, they moten needes haue
ſhame of her prayſing. And if that folke haue
getten hem thank or praiſing by her deſerts,
what thing hath thilk priſe eched or encreaſed
to the conſcience of wiſe folke, that meaſured
her good, nat by the rumour of ye people, but
by ye ſoothfaſtneſſe of conſcience? And if it ſeme
a fair thing, a man to haue encreaſed & ſprad
his name, then followeth it, yt it is deemed
to ben a foule thing, if it ne be yſprad and ent
ſith there mote needes been many folkes, to
which folke the renome of a man ne may
nat commen, it befalleth, that he that thou
weneſt be glorious and renomed, ſemeth in
the next part of the erthes to ben without
glory and without renome. And certes a
AL the linage of men, that been in earth,
been ſemblable of birth. One alone is
father of things: one alone miniſtreth all
things: he yafe to the Sun his beames: he
yafe to the Moone her hornes: he yafe to
men the earth: he yafe the ſterres to the
heaven: he cloſed with membres the ſoules
that camen from his hie ſeat: Then com
BUt what ſhall I ſain of delices of body,
of whiche delices the deſirings ben full
of anguiſhes, and the fulfillings of hem ben
full of penaunce? how great ſickneſſes and
how great ſorrows unſufferable, right as a
maner fruit of wickednes, ben thilke delices
wont to bringen to the bodies of folke yt uſen
hem? of which delices I not what joye may
been had of her mouing. But this wote I
well, * That who ſo euer woll remembren him
of his luxures, he ſhall well underſtand, that
the iſſues of delices ben ſorowfull and ſory.
And if thilke delices mow make folke blis
EVery delyte hath this, that it anguiſheth
hem with prickes that uſen it. It reſſem
NOw it is no doubt then, that theſe ways
ne been a maner miſtidings to blisfult is right foule & britel,
yt is to ſaine, ſeruaunt to thy bodie. Now is
it wel yſeen, how litel and how brytel poſſeſe Bull? mayſt thou be ſwifter
than the Tygre? Behold the ſpaces and the
ſtableneſſe, and the ſwift courſe of Heauen,
and ſtint ſomtime to wondren on foul things.
The which heauen certes nys nat rather for
theſe thinges to be wondren upon, than for
the reaſon by which it is gouerned. But the
ſhyning of thy forme, that is to ſayne, the
beaute of thy body, how ſwiftly paſſing is it,
and how tranſitorie, certes, it is more flitting
than the mutabilitie of floures of the ſommer
ſeaſon. For ſo as Ariſtotel telleth, that if the
men had eyen of a beeſte that hight Lynx, ſo
that the loking of folk might percen through
tho thinges that withſtond it: who ſo looked
then in thentrailes of the body of Alcibiades,
that was full fayre in the ſuperficie without,
it ſhould ſeme right foule. And for thy, if thou
ſeemeſt fayre, thy nature ne maketh nat that,
but the diſceiuaunce of febleneſſe of the eyen
that loken. But prayſe the goods of the body
as moch as euer thee liſt, ſo that thou know
algates that what ſo it be, that is to ſaine, of
the goodes of the body, which that thou wont they ne ben not ways
ne pathes that bringen men to blisfulneſſe,
ne maken men to be blisfull.
ALas, which foly, and which ignorance
miſleadeth wandring wretches fro the
And if you like to hunte to Roes, ye ne goe
nat to the fords of yt water that hight Thyt is to ſaine, of a maner ſhelfiſh, with
which men dien purpure: & knowen which
ſtrondes habounden moſt of tendre fiſhes, or
of ſharpe fiſhes, that hight Echines. But
folkes ſuffren hemſelfe to ben ſo blind yt hem
ne retchen not to know where thilke goodes
ben yhid, which that they coueiten, but plune
ſterres. What prayer may I maken that be
digne to the nice thoughtes of men? But I
pray that they coueiten richeſſe & honours,
ſo that when they haue gotten tho falſe goods
with great trauaile, that therby they mowen
knowen the very goodes.
IT ſuffiſeth that I haue ſaid hyderto, the
form of falſe welefulneſſe: ſo yt if thou looke
now clerely, ye order of mine entencion ree very welee cauſes (qd. ſhe) why it
is? B. Certes me ſemeth (qd. I) ye I ſee hem,
right as though it were through a litel clifte:
But me were leauer knowen hem more opene reaſon is al
redy. For thilke thinge that ſimply is one
thing without any deuiſion, yt errour & folly
of mankinde, devideth, & departeth it, & miſt
there is a thing yt in any partie be febler of
power, certes as in yt it mote needs be neet is
of this maner, yt is to ſay, ſuffiſaunt & might ſoth. P. What
demeſt thou (qd. ſhe) then is yt a derk thing &
not noble, yt is ſuffiſant, reuerent, and migh• he
that ne hath no need of nothing, and is moſt
mighty and moſt digne of honour, if him
needeth any clereneſſe of renome, which
clereneſſe hee might not graunten of himſelfe,
ſo for lacke of thilke clereneſſe he might ſet is ſuffiſaunt, mighty, & reuerent, clereneſſe
of renome foloweth of the foreſaid thinges:
he hath it all ready of his ſuffiſaunce. Boee foreſaid things,
ſo that there be amongs hem no difference.
B. This is a conſequence, qd. I. P. This
thing then, qd. ſhe, that ne hath nede of no
foraine thing, and that may do all things by
his ſtrengthes, & that is noble & honourable,
is it not a mery thing and joyful? Boetius.
But whence, qd. I, that any ſorowe might
come to this thing that is ſoche, certes I
may not thinke. Philoſophie. Then mote
wee graunten, qd. ſhee, that this thing be ful
of gladneſſe, if the foreſaid things be ſothe.
And certes, alſo mote we graunten, that
ſuffiſance, power, nobleſſe, reuerence, and
gladneſſe, be onely diuers by names, but her
ſubſtaunce hath no diuerſite. Boetius. It
mote needly be ſo, qd. I. Philoſoph. Thilke
thing then, qd. ſhe, that is one & ſimple in
his nature, ye wickedneſſe of men departeth
and deuideth it: And when they enforcen hem
to getten partie of a thinge, that ne hath no
part, they ne getten hem neyther thilke par•
they deſire. Boetius. In which manere, qd.
I. Philoſophie. Thilke man, qd. ſhe, that
ſecheth richeſſe to flyen pouerty, he ne trauai• theſe other things been, that is to
ſaine, al one thing. Whoſoeuer ſeketh to gett other, he ne
getteth not that he deſireth. Boetius. What
ſayeſt thou then, if that a man coueite to gett he would get him
ſouerain blisfulnes, but yt ſhall he not finde
in tho things that I haue ſhewed, yt mowe
not yeue that they beheten. Boetius. Certes
no (qd. I.) Phi. Then (qd. ſhe) ne ſhullen men
not by no way ſeken bliſfulnes in ſoch things,
as men wenen that they ne mowe gyuen but
one thyng ſinglerly of all that menne ſeken.
Boetius. I graunt well (qd. I) ne non ſother
thing may be ſaid. Philoſoph. Now haſt thou
then (qd. ſhe) the forme & the cauſe of falſe
welefulneſſe: Now turne and flitte againe to
thy thought, for there ſhall thou ſeene anon
thilke very bliſfulneſſe that I haue behight
thee. B. Certes (qd. I) it is clere & open, thogh
it were to a blind man: And yt ſhewdeſt thou
me a litel here be forne, when thou enforcedeſt
thee to ſhew me the cauſes of ye falſe welefult thilke
very bliſfulneſſe and parfite, that parfitly mat men verely yeuen
one of ye foreſaid things, ſens they be all one:
I know doubtleſſe that thilke thing is full of
bliſfulneſſe. Philoſophie. O my norice (qd. ſhe)
by this opinion I ſay that thou art bliſfull, if
thou put this thereto that I ſhall ſain. Boet there be any thing in this erthly mortall
tombling things, yt may bringen this eſtate?
Bo. Certes (qd. I) I trow it not: & thou haſt
ſhewed me wel, yt ouer thilk good there nis
nothing more to ben deſired. P. Theſe things
then (qd. ſhe) yt is to ſaine, earthly ſuffiſaunce
and power, & ſoch things erthly, they ſemen
likeneſſe of very good, or els it ſeemeth that
they yeuen to mortall folke a maner of goodt lien falſely bliſt they by deceite ſemen
very goodes: Now behoueth thee to knowe
whence & where thou mow ſeke thilke very
bliſfulneſſe. B. Certes (qd. I) yt deſire I greate
help of God: What judgeſt thou yt be now
to done, ſo that wee may deſerue to find ye
ſeat of thilke ſouerein God? B. Certes (qd. I)
I denie yt we ſhullen cleape to the father of
all goodes, for withouten him nys there no
O Thou father, ſoueraigne and creatour
of heauen and of erthes, that gouern•
elements by nombres proporcionables, that
the cold thinges mowen accorden with the
hotte thinges, and the drie things with the
moiſt: That the fire, that is pureſt, ne flie
nat ouer hie, ne that the heauineſſe ne draw
nat adoun ouerlow the yerthes, yt be plonge
meane ſoul of treble kind mouing all things,
& deuideſt it by membres according. And
when it is thus deuided, it hath aſſembled
amouing in to roundes, it goeth to turne
againe to himſelf, and enuironneth a full
deepe thought, and turneth the heuen by a
ſemblable image. Thou by euen lyke cauſes
enhanceſt the ſoules and the leſſe liues, and
abling hem to height by light waines or cart thought to ſtyen vp in to thy
ſtraite ſeate, & graunt hem to enuironne the
wel of good. And ye light yfound, graunt him
to ſixen ye clere ſights of his courage in thee,
and ſcatter thou and to breake ye weyghts
and the clouds of earthly heauineſſe, & ſhine
thou by thy brightneſſe. For thou art clere
FOraſmoche then, as thou haſt ſeen which
is the forme of good that nys not parfite,
and the forme of good which that is parfite.
Now trow I yt it were good to ſhew in what
t is ſubmitted to vs. But it may not
be denied that thilke ne is, and that is right
as a well of all goodes. For all thing that is
cleped imparfite is proued imparfite by ye at perfection is don away, men may
not thinke ne ſay from whence thilke thing
is, that is cleped imparfite. For the nature
ne toke not her beginning of thinges amenue vttreſt things, and into things
empty and without fruite. But as I haue
ſhewed a little here beforne, that if that there
be a bliſfulneſs that be freele, & vain, & impert nothing nys bett is divers fro any thing,
that thilke thing nis not the ſame thing, for
which it is vnderſtanden to ben diuers. Then
followeth it well, that thilke thing yt by his
nature is divers from ſoueraigne good, that
thing is not ſoueraigne good. But certes, it
were a felonous curſedneſſe, to thinken that
of him, that nothing nis more worth. For alt be ſoveraignly good, ne mow
Philoſo. Vpon theſe things then, qd. ſhe,
right as theſe Geometricians, when they
have ſhewed their propoſitions, been wont to
bringen in things, yt they clepen porriſmes,
or declarations of foreſaid things: right ſo
woll I yeue thee here, as a Corollary, or a
mede of crowne. For why, for as much as by
the getting of blisfulneſſe men been maked
bliſful, and bliſfulneſſe is dignity: then it is
manifeſt and open, that by the getting of digt getting of Sa
What ſayſt thou then of all theſe things,
that is to ſay, ſuffiſaunce, power, and theſe
other things? Been they then as members
of bliſfulneſſe, or been they referred and
brought to ſoueraigne good, right as all
things that been brought to the cheef of
hem? Bo. I underſtond well, qd. I, what
thou purpoſeſt to ſeek: but I deſire for to
hearken, that thou ſhew it to me. Ph. Take
now thus the diſcretion of this queſtion,
qd. ſhe. If all theſe things, qd. ſhe, weren
members to felicitie, then weren they di
COmmeth all together now ye that been
ycaught and bound with wicked chains,
by the delite of earthly things inhabiting in
your thought. Here ſhall be the reſt of your
labour: here is the haven ſtable, in quiete pe• the river Tagus ye
BOecius. I aſſent me, qd. I, for all things
ben ſtrongly bounden with right ferme
reaſons. Philoſophie. How much wilt thou
praiſen it, qd. ſhe, if that thou knoweſt what
the like good is? Boecius. I woll praiſe it,
qd. I, by price without end, if it ſhall betide
me to know alſo togither God that is good.
Philoſophie. Certes, qd. ſhe, that ſhall I
doe thee by very reaſon, if that tho things,
that I have concluded a little here beforne,
dwellen onely in her graunting. Boecius.
They dwellen graunted to thee, qd. I, that
is to ſaine, as who ſaith, I graunt to thy
foreſaied concluſions. Philoſophie. I haue
ſhewed thee, qd. ſhe, that the things that
been required of many folke, ne been not
very goods, ne perfite: for they ben diuers,
that one from that other. And ſo as each
of hem is lacking to other, they ne haue no
power to bring a good, that is full and abſoe number of things
that ought to be required and deſired. Bo.
It is ſhewen. qd. I, ne hereof may there no
man doubten. Philoſophie. The thynges
then, qd. ſhe, that ne been no goodes, when
they ben diuers, and when they beginnen
to be all one thing, then ben they goods, ne
commeth it not then, by the getting of uni
And the bodie of a wight, while it dwel
Bo. When I conſider, qd. I, many things,
I ſee none other. Philoſophie. Is there any
thing, qd. ſhe, that in as much as it liueth
naturally, that foreletteth that talent or ap
For euery beaſt trauaileth him to deſende
and keep the ſaluacion of his life, & eſcheweth
death and deſtruction. But certes, I doubt
me of herbes and trees, that ne haue no
feling Soules, ne no natural workings, ſer
Philoſophie. Certes, qd. ſhe, thereof dare
thee not doubt. Now looke upon ye Hearbes
and Trees, for they wexen firſt in ſuch plat they drawen all her nouryſhings
by her roots, right as they hadden her mouths
yplunged within the earthes, & ſhedden by
her mareis her wood & her barke? And what
wilt thou ſaine of this, that the ilke thing
that is right ſoft, as the marie is, that is
alway hid in the ſeat of all within, and that
is defended from without, by the ſtedfaſtt diſtemperaunce of the hea
Ne there nis no man, that ne wote well,
that they ne been right as a foundement &
edifice, for to duren not onely for a time, but
right as for to dure perdurably by generae things eke yt men wenen ne haue
no ſouls, ne deſire they not by ſemblable reat is to ſaine, yt is ac
Boeci. I confeſſe (qd. I) that I ſee well
now, and certainely, withouten doubt, the
things that a while ago ſeemeden vncertain
to me. Philoſ. But (qd. ſhe) thilk thing that
deſireth to be and dwell perdurably, he deſi
WHo ſo ſeeketh ſooth by a deep thought,
and coueiteth to beene diſceyued by
no miſwayes, let him rollen and treaten
within himſelfe, the light of his inward
ſight: and let him gatheren ayen, enclye which he imagineth to been
in things without: & then all the darkneſſe of
his miſknowing ſhall ſeme more euidently
to y• ſight of his vnderſtanding, than the Sun
ne ſemeth to the ſight withoutforth. For
certes, the bodie bringing y• weight of foryet• clereneſſe of your knowing: for certain
For wherefore els deemen ye of your own
will ye rights, when ye be aſked, but if ſo were
that the nouriſhing of reaſon ne liued yplun• ſooth of any thing
THen ſaid I thus: I accord me greatly
to Plato, for thou recordeſt and rememe gouernment (qd. ſhe) that this world
is governed. Bo. I remember it well (qd. I)
and I confeſſe well, that I ne wiſt it naught.
But all be it ſo, that I ſee now from afarre
what thou purpoſeſt, algates I deſire yet to
hearken it of thee more plainly. Phil. Thou
ne wendeſt not (qd. ſhe) a little here beforne ye
men ſhould dout, that this world is governed
by God. Bo. Certes (qd. I) ne yet, ne dout I
it not, ne I nill neuer wene that it were to
dout: as who ſaith but I wot well that God
gouerneth this world. And I ſhall anſweren
thee by what reaſons I am brought to this.
This world, qd. I, of ſo many divers and con• been conioyned, if
there ne were one that contained that he hath
conioyned & ybound. Ne the certaine order
of nature ne ſhould not bring forth ſo ordeyne
mouings, by places, by times, by dooings, by
ſpaces, by qualities, if there ne were one that
were aye ſtedfaſt dwelling, that ordained &
diſpoſed theſe diverſities of moouings. And
thilke thing, whatſoeuer it be, by which that
all things be ymaked and ladde, I clepe him
God, that is a word that is uſed to all folks.
Phil. Then ſaid ſhe: Sith thou feleſt thus
theſe things, I trow that I have little more
to doen, that thou, mighty of welefulneſſe,
hole and ſound, ne ſee eftſoones thy country.
But let us looken theſe things that we have
purpoſed here beforne. Have I not numbred
and ſaid (qd. ſhe) that ſuffiſaunce is in bliſful• God is the bliſfulneſſe, for which
thou yaue me as a couenable yeft, that is to
ſain, that no wight nis bliſful, but if he be
God alſo therewith. And ſaideſt eke, that the
form of good is the ſubſtance of God and of
bliſfulneſſe. And ſaideſt, y• thilke one is thilk
ſame good, that is required and deſired of all
the kind of things. And thou prouedſt in diſ• nature of euil is nothing.
And theſe things ſhewedſt thou not with no
reaſons taken fro without, but by prooues in
cercles and homeliche knowing. The which
prooues drawen to hemſelf her faith and her
accord, eueriche of hem of other. Philoſophy.
Then ſaid ſhe thus: I ne ſcorn not, ne play, ne
deceiue thee, but I haue ſhewed the thing that
is greateſt ouer all things, by y• yeft of God,
that we whylom praiden. For this is the
form of diuine ſubſtaunce, that is ſuch, that
it ne ſlideth not into vttereſt forrain things,
ne receyueth not no ſtraunge things in him.
But right as Permenides ſaid in Greek of
thilk diuine ſubſtaunce: He ſaid thus, * That
thilk diuine ſubſtaunce tourneth the world,
and the moouable cercle of things, while the
ilke diuine ſubſtaunce kepeth it ſelf without
moouings, that is to ſaine, that he mooueth
neuer mo, and yet it moueth all other things.
But natheleſſe, if I haue ſtyred reaſons, that
be not taken fro without the compaſſe of the
thing of the which we treaten, but reaſons
that ben beſtowed within compaſſe: there nis
not why thou ſhouldeſt meruaylen, ſith thou
haſt learned by the ſentence of Plato, * That
needes the wordes mote been coſins to the
things of which they ſpeaken.
BLeſſed is that man that may ſeene the
clere well of good: Bliſfull is he that
may vnbinden him from the bounds of heat euer he had receiued,
and laued out of ye noble wells of his mother
Caliope y• goddes. And he ſang with as much
as he might of weeping, & with as much as
loue, that doubled his ſorow, might yeuen him
and teach him, and commoued the hell, and
required and beſought by ſweet praier y• lords
of ſouls in hell of releaſing, that is to ſay, to
yeelden him his wife. Cerberus the porter of
hell, with his three heads, was caught and all
abaſhed of the new ſong. And the three god• head of Ixit was deſtroyed by the wood• floods to drink.
The foul, that hight Vultor, that eateth the
ſtomack or the giſern of Tytius, is ſo fulfil• laſt bounds of hell,
Orpheus looked backward on Euridice his
wife, and loſt her, and was dead. This fable
appertaineth to you all, whoſoeuer deſireth or
ſeeketh to lead his thought into the ſouerain
WHEN Philoſophy had ſongen
ſoftly and delectably the foreſaid
thynges, keeping the dignitie of
her chere, and the weight of her
wordes. I then that ne had all utterly for
O (qd. I) thou that art guidereſſe of very
light, the things that thou haſt ſaid me hither• I
had whylom foryeten hem, for the ſorow of
y• wrong that hath be done to me: yet neuert as the gouert euils paſſen
without puniſhing, the which thing only, how
worthie is it to ben wondred vpon. Thou con•
feet of fellonous folke: and it abieth y• turt ſuch thynges be
done in the reigne of God, that all thynges
wote, and all things may, & ne will not ont in the right ordained
houſe of ſo much a father, & an ordaynour of
meine, that the veſſels that ben foule & vile,
ſhould ben honoured & heried, and the precit I haue
concluded a little here beforn, ben kept whole
and vnaraced, thou ſhalt wel know by the au• whoſe reign ſpeake)
that certes the good folke be alway mightie
and ſhrewes ben alway outcaſt and feeble. Ne
the vices be neuermore without pain, ne the
vertues ne bee not without mede. And that
bliſfulneſſe commeth alway to good folke, &
infortune cometh alway to wicked folk. And
thou ſhalt well knowen many things of this
kind that ſhould ceaſen thy plaints, & ſtrengt I trow be neceſſary to put forth,
I ſhall ſhewen thee the way, that ſhal bringen
thee ayen vnto thy houſe, and I ſhall fixe fea
THen for thy ſwift feathers yt ſurmounten
the height of the heuen, when the ſwift
thought hath clothed it in tho feathers, it dee hateful earths, and ſurmounteth the
roundeneſſe of yt great aire, & it ſeeth y• cloudes
behind his back, and paſſeth the height of the
region of the fire, that enchaufeth by y• ſwift
moouing of the firmament, till that he ariſeth
into the houſes that bearen the ſterres, and
joyneth the way with the ſunne Phebus, &
fellawſhippeth the way of the olde colde Sa• cleare
ſterre, y• is to ſaine, when yt thought is made
Gods knight, by ye ſeeking of clere trouth to
commen to the very knowledge of God. And
thilke ſoule renneth by the circle of ſterres, in
all y• places there as yt ſhining night is ipaint is cloudleſſe.
For on nights yt be cloudleſſe, it ſeemeth that
y• heauen were painted with diuers images
of ſterres. And when he hath done there
inough, he ſhall forleten ye laſt heauen, & he ſhall
preſent and wenden on the back of the ſwift
firmament, and he ſhall be maked perfit of y•
worſhipfull light of God. There holdeth the
lord of things the ſceptre of his might, & att thou be broght
thider, then wilt thou ſay that is y• countrey
that thou requireſt, of which thou ne haddeſt
no mind: But nowe it remembreth me well,
here was I born, here wol I faſten my degree,
here woll I dwell. But if thee liketh then to
looken on the derkeneſſes of the yearth, that
thou haſt forleten, then ſhalt thou ſeene, that
theſe fellonous tyraunts, that the wretched
people dreadeth nowe, ſhullen be exiled from
thilke faire countrey.
THen ſaid I thus. O I wonder me yt thou
beheteſt me ſo great thyngs. Ne I ne
doubt nor, that thou ne mayſt well perfourm
that thou beheteſt: But I pray thee this,
that thou ne tarry not to tell me thilk things
that thou haſt moued. Phil. Firſt (qd. ſhe)
thou muſt needs know, that good folke been
alway ſtrong and mightie, and the ſhrewes
beene feeble and deſerte, and naked of all
ſtrengths. And of theſe things certes euerich
of hem is declared and ſhewed by other. For
as good and euill been two contraries, if ſo
be that good be ſtedfaſt, then ſheweth the fee•
freeleneſſe of euill, the ſtedfaſtneſſe of good is
knowen. But for as much as the fayth of
my ſentence ſhall be the more ferme and hae things
that beene purpoſed nowe on this ſide, and
now on yt ſide. * Two things there beene, in
which the effect of all the deedes of mankind
ſtandeth: that is to ſayne, will and power:
and if that one of theſe two faileth, there nis
nothing that may bee done. For if that will
lacketh, there nis no wight that vndertaketh
to do that he woll not done: And if power fait if thou ſee a wight
that would getten yt he may not getten, thou
mayeſt not doubt yt power ne faileth him to
hauen that he would. Boe. This is open &
clere (qd. I) ne it ne may not been denyed in
no manner. P. And if thou ſee a wight, qd. ſhe,
that hath done that he would done, thou nilt
not doubt, that he ne hath had power to done
it. Bo. No, qd. I. Phi. And in that that euery
wight may, in that men holden hem mightie
to don a thing: Inſomuch, as a man is mighty
to don a thing, inſomuch, men hold him might I haue
gathered & ſhewed by yt foreſaid reaſons, yt
all y• entencion of the wil of mankind, which
y• is lad by diuers ſtudies, haſteth to commen
to bliſfulneſſe. Boet. It remembreth me well,
qd. I, that it hath ben ſhewed. Philoſo. And
recordeth yt naught then, qd. ſhe, that bliſt when bliſfulneſſe is required of all? Boet by
getting of good be men maked good. Boeti.
That is certaine, qd. I. Philoſ. Then getten
good men yt they deſiren. Boe. So it ſeemeth,
qd. I. Philoſophie. But wicked folke, qd. ſhe,
if they getten the good that they deſiren, they
ne mowen not be wicked. Bo. So it is, qd. I,
Philoſ. Then ſo as that one and that other,
qd. ſhe, deſiren the good, and the good folke
getten the good, & not the wicked folk: then
it is no doubt that the good folke ne be might euer douteth of this, he ne may not con• conſequence
of reaſons. Philoſ. And ouer this, qd. ſhe, if
that there been two things yt haue one ſame
purpoſe by kind, and that one of hem purſut accomt I conject, qd. I, yt thou woldeſt ſay,
algates I deſire yet to herken it more plainly
of thee. Philoſoph. Thou nilt not then denie,
qd. ſhe, that the moouement of goings nis in
men by kind. Boeti. No forſooth, qd. I. Phit thilk
naturell office of going ne bee ye office of feet,
Boe. I ne doubt it not, qd. I. Philoſ. Then,
qd. ſhe, if that a wight bee mightie to mooue,
and goeth vpon his feet, & another to whom
thilke naturell office of feet lacketh, enforceth
him to go creeping on his hand, wch of theſe
two ought to bee holden the more mightie by
right? Boeti. Knit forth, qd. I, y• remnaunt,
Philoſophy. For no wight ne douteth, y• he
that may gone by naturell office of feet, ne be
more mightie than hee yt ne may not. But
yt ſoueraigne good, qd. ſhe, that is euen like
purpoſed to the good and to the bad: y• good
folke ſeeken it by naturell office of vertues, &
ſhrewes enforcen hem to getten it by diuerſe
couetiſes of earthly things, which y• nis no
naturell office to getten thilk ſoueraine good.
Troweſt thou that it be any otherwiſe? Bo.
Nay, qd. I. For y• conſequence is open, and
ſhewing of things that I haue graunted, y•
needs good folke moten ben mighty, & ſhrews
moten ben feeble & vnmightie. Phil. Thou
renneſt aright beforne me, qd. ſhe, and this is
the judgment, yt is to ſain, I judge of right,
as theſe leeches beene woont to hopen of ſicke
folke, when they apperceiuen yt nature is
redreſſed, & withſtandeth to yt malady. But
for I ſee thee now all ready to y• withſtanding,
I ſhall ſhew thee more thilke and continuell
reaſons. For looke how greatly ſheweth the
feebleneſſe and infirmitie of wicked folke, y•
ne mowen not commen to yt her naturel en• which naturell
helpe of entencion goth alway beforn hem, &
is ſo great, yt vnneth it may be ouercommen?
Conſider then how great defaut of power, &
howe great feebleſſe there is in wicked fello• greater thyng
yt is coueited, and the deſire not accomplit leſſe might is he that coueiteth it,
and may not accompliſh. And for thy, Phi• blindnes of ignorance?
or els they knowen well which things they
oughten followen, but lecherie & couetiſe ot forleten the commune fine
of all things yt ben, they forleten alſo there• this were a meruaile
to ſain, that ſhrews, which that containen the
more parts of men, ne been not, ne haue no
being. But natheleſſe it is ſo, and thus ſtant
this thing: For they that be ſhrews, I denie
not but y• they be ſhrews, but I denie ſimply
& plainly, y• they ne be not, ne haue no being.
For right as thou mighteſt ſain of y• cerrain
of a man, y• it were a dead man: ſo grant I
wel forſooth, that vicious folk ben wicked, but
I ne may not abſolutely and ſimply grant
that they ben. For thilk thing that withholdt thing fayleth that,
that is to ſay, he that forleteth natural order,
he forleteth thilk being that is ſet in his na• doing of good
people. And thilk power ſheweth euidently, y•
they mowen right naught. For ſo as I haue
gadered and prooued a litel here beforn, that
euill is not, and ſo as ſhrews may only but
ſhrewdnes. This concluſion is all clere, that
ſhrews ne mowen right naught, ne haue no
power. And for as much as thou vnderſtond• ſtrength of this power, I haue
definiſhed a litel here beforn, that no thing
nis ſo mighty as ſouerain good. B. That is
ſooth (qd. I) Phil. And thilk ſame ſouerain
good may done none euil. Boe. Certes no
(qd. I) Phil. Is there any wight then (qd. ſhe)
that weneth y• men mowen done all things.
Boe. No man (qd. I) but if he be out of his
wit. Phil. But certes ſhrews mowen done
euils (qd. ſhe.) Bo. Ye would God (qd. I) that
they ne mighten done none. P. Then (qd. ſhe)
ſo as he that is mighty to done only good
things, he may done all things, and they
that ben mighty to done euill things, ne
mowen not all things. Then is it open thing
and manifeſt, y• they that mowen done euil,
ben of leſſe power. And yet to proue this con• all power is to be num• men oughten require.
And I haue ſhewed, y• all things that oughten
been deſired, be referred to God, right as to a
maner height of her nature: but for to mowen
done euil & fellonie, ne may not ben referred
to God. Then is not euil of the number of
things, y• oughten to ben deſired and required.
Then is it open and clear, that the power ne
the mouing of ſhrews nis no power. And of
all theſe things it ſheweth well, that the good
folke ben certainly mighty, and the ſhrews
doubtleſſe vnmighty. And it is clere & open,
that thilk ſentence of Plato is very and ſoth,
y• ſaith, That only wiſe men may done that
they deſiren, & ſhrews mowen haunten that
hem liketh, but that they deſiren, that is to
ſain, to come to ſouerain good, they ne haue
no power to accompliſh that: for ſhrews done
what hem liſt, when by tho things in which
they delighten, they wenen to attain to thilk
good that they deſiren, but they ne getten ne
attayne not thereto, for vices ne commen
not to bliſfulneſſe.
WHo ſo that the couerture of her vain
apparailes, might ſtripen of theſe
prowd kings that thou ſeeſt ſitten on high
in her chairs, glittering in ſhining purpure,
enuironned with ſorrowfull armures, mena• thilk lords heaten
within her courages full ſtrait chains: for
lecherit tormenteth hem on y• one ſide with
greedie venimes & troublable ire, that arai
SEeſt thou not then, in how great filth
theſe ſhrews been ywrapped, and with
which clereneſſe theſe good folk ſhinen. In
this ſheweth it well, that to good folk ne
lacketh neuer mo her medes, ne ſhrews lack
EUrus the wind, arriued the ſailes of V
THen ſaid I thus: I confeſſe and am a
Certes (qd. ſhe) ne it is not leful to hem
as I ſhall well ſhew the incouenable place:
but natheleſſe, if ſo were, that thilk that men
wene been leful to ſhrews, were bynommed
hem, ſo that they ne might not annoien or
done harm to good men, certes, a great par
Philoſophy. So ſhullen they (qd. ſhe) ſoner
paraduenture then thou woldeſt, or ſoner
than they hemſelf wene: for there nis nothing
ſo late in ſo ſhort bonds of this life, that is
long to abide, namely to a courage immor• any man might think that the ma
But I vnderſtand yet in another maner, y•
ſhrewes been more vnſely when they ne be
not puniſhed, al be it ſo that there ne be had
no reaſon or law of correction, ne none en• been, qd. I, other than hath be tolde
here beforn? Ph. Haue we not graunted then,
qd. ſhe, that good folke ben bliſfull, & ſhrewes
ben wretches? Boet. Yes, qd. I. Philoſoph.
Then, qd. ſhe, If that any good were added
to y• wretchedneſſe of any wight, nys he not
more weleful than he y• ne hath no medling
of good in his ſolitary wretchednes. Bo. So
ſeemeth it (qd. I.) Phil. And what ſayſt thou
then, qd. ſhe, of thilke wretch that lacketh all
goods, ſo that no good nys medled with his
wretchedneſſe, and yet ouer all his wicked•
it is right that ſhrewes been puniſhed, & it
is wickedneſſe and wrong that they eſcapen
vnpuniſhed. Boetius. Who might deny it,
qd. I. Philoſop. But, qd. ſhe, may any man
deny y• al that is right, ne is good? and alſo
the contrary, y• all y• is wrong ne is wicked?
Boet. Certes, qd. I, theſe things been cleere
ynough, and that wee haue concluded a litell
here beforn. But I pray thee y• thou tel me,
if thou accordeſt to letten no tourment to y•
ſoules, after y• the body is ended by y• death,
that is to ſaine: vnderſtandeſt thou aught,
that ſoules haue any tourment after y• deth
of y• body? Philoſ. Certes, qd. ſhe, yea, and
that right great, of which ſoules, qd. ſhe, I
trowe y• ſome been tourmented by aſpreneſſe
of payne, and ſome ſoules I trow been exer• the mowing of
ſhrews, which mowing thee ſemeth to be vnt they ne were not put thou woldeſt ſee that they ne weren
neuer mo withouten the tourments of her
wickedneſſe. And of the lycence of the mo• then been ſhrewes conſtrayued at the
laſt with moſt greeuous tourment, when men
wene that they ne be not puniſhed. Boetius.
When I conſider thy reaſons, qd. I, I ne trow
nat y• men ſaine any thing more verely. And
if I tourne ayen to the ſtudies of men, who is
he to whome it ſhoulde ſeeme, yt he ne ſhould
nat onely leuen theſe things, but eke gladly
herken hem. Philoſo. Certes, qd. ſhe, ſo it
is, but men may nat, for they haue their eyen
ſo wont to the derkeneſſe of earthly thinges,
that they ne may nat lift hem vp to the light
of cleare ſoothfaſtneſſe. But they been like to
birdes, of which the night lightneth her loo• moſt excellent thinges. And
if thou haue enclined thy ſtudies to y• wicked
things, ne ſeke no foraine wrekerie out of thy
ſelfe, for thou thy ſelfe haſt thriſte thy ſelfe into
wicked things, right as thou mighteſt looken
by diuers times, the foule yearth & the heat all other things ſtinten fro with• thou were in neither, ne ſee nothing
more. Then ſhuld it ſeemen to thee, as by on• thou were now in the
Sterres, & now in the earth, but y• people lo• a man had all forlorne
his ſight, and had foryeten y• he euer ſaw, &
wened that nothing fayled him of perfection
of mankind? Now we which mighten ſeene
the ſame things, would we not ſaine, y• he
were blind, ne alſo ne accordeth not ye people
to yt I ſhall ſaine, the which thing is ſuſteyt
is to ſaine, * That more vnſelie been they yt
done wrongs to other folke, than they yt the
wrong ſuffren. Boet. I would hearen thilke
ſame reaſons, qd. I. Philoſ. Denieſt thou,
t they ne be wretches.
Boetius. It accordeth well (qd. I.) Phil.
If thou were then ſet a Iudg, or a knower of
things, whither troweſt thou that men ſhould
tourmenten hem yt hath done wrong, or els
hem that ſuffered the wrong? Boetius. I
doubte not (qd. I) that I nolde doe ſufficient
ſatiſfaction to hem that haue ſuffered wrong,
by the ſorrow of hem that hath done wrong.
Phil. Then ſemeth it (qd. ſhe) that the dooer
of wrong is more wretch than he that ſuffred
wrong. Boetius. That followeth well (qd.
I.) Phil. Then (qd. ſhe) by theſe cauſes, and
by other cauſes, that been enforced by the
ſame roote, that filth or ſinne, by the proper
nature of it, maketh men wretches: & it ſhewe accu• wiſe folks
there nis no place iletten to hate, that is to
ſaine, that hate ne hath no place among wiſe
men. For no wight nill haten good men, but
if he were ouermoch a foole: and for to haten
ſhrews, it nis no reaſon, for right as langui
WHat deliteth you to exciten ſo great
mouing of Hatredes, and to haſten
and buſien the fatal diſpoſicion of your
death, with your proper hands, that is to
ſaine, by battailes or conteke? For if yee
asken the death, it haſteth him of his owne
will, ne death ne tarieth not his ſwift horſe.
And the men that the Serpents, and the Li
THis I ſee (qd. I) eyther what bliſfulneſſe,
or els what vnſelineſſe is eſtabliſhed in
the deſerts of good men, and of ſhrewes.
But in this ilke Fortune of the people, I
ſee ſomewhat of good, and ſome what of euil.
For no wiſe man had not leauer be exiled
poore and needie, and nameleſſe, than for to
dwellen in his Citee, and flouren of richeſſe,
and be redoubtable of honour, and ſtrong of
power. For in this wiſe more clearly and
witneſfully is the office of wiſe men treated,
then the bliſfulneſſe of power, and gouer
WHo ſo that know not the Sterres Ar• firmament, and
wote not why y• ſterre Bootes paſſeth, or ga• high
aire. And eke, if that he ne knowe not why y•
the hornes of the full Moone waxen pale and
infect by the boundes of the darke night, and
how the Moone darke & confuſe, diſcouer
The common errour moueth folkes, and
maketh wearie her baſins of Braſſe by thilke
ſtrokes, that is to ſay, that there is a maner
people, that hight Coribantes, that wenen
that when the Moone is in the Eclipſe that
it be enchaunted, and therfore for to reſcue y•
Moone, they beaten her baſins with the ilke
ſtrokes. Ne no man ne wondreth when the
blaſtes of the wind Chorus, beaten y• ſtronds
of the Sea, by quaking floodes. Ne no man
ne wondreth, when the weight of the Snow,
harded by the cold, is reſolued by the brene breſtes
of men. The mouable people is aſtonied of
all things that commen ſelde and ſodainly
in our age, but the troubly errour of our igt if they wiſten
the cauſe, why that ſoche thinges betiden,
certes they ſhoulden ceaſe to ſeme wonders.
THus it is (qd. I) but ſo as thou haſte
yeuen or beheight me, to vnwrappe ye
hidde cauſes of things, and to diſcouer
me the reaſons couered with darkneſſe,
I pray thee, that thou deuiſe and judge
me of this matter, and that thou do me to
vnderſtand it, for this miracle of this wont is greateſt of al thinges
y• mowen been asked, and to the which quee mate ſimpli•
order of Deſtinie, and of ſodayne happe, &
of knowing of predeſtinacion diuine, and of
the libertie of Freewill: the which thinges,
thou thy ſelfe apperceiuedeſt well of what
weight they been. But for as moch as the
knowings of theſe things, is a manner por• ſtableneſſe
of Diuine thought: And the ilke Diuine
thought, that is ſet and put in the Towre,
yt is to ſaine, in the height of the ſimplicitie
of God, eſtabliſheth many maner giſes to y•
things that been to doen, the which maner,
when the men looken it, in the pure cleaneſſe
of the Diuine intelligence, is cleaped pur
But when the ilke maner is referred by
men, to thinges that it moueth or diſponeth,
then of old men it was cleaped Deſtenie, y•
which things, if that any wight looketh well
in his thought, the ſtrength of that one, & of
that other, he ſhall lightly mowe ſeene, that
theſe two things be diuers. For purueigh• which pueueighaunce diſponeth al things.
But certes, Deſtinie is the diſpoſicion & the
ordinaunce, cleauing to moueable thinges, by
the which diſpoſicion, ye purueighaunce knite loking of the Diuine
thought, be cleaped purueighaunce, & thilke
ſame aſſembling and oning deuided and vnt one on that other, for why,
the order deſtinably proceedeth of the ſimpli
For right as a werkman perceiueth in his
thought the forme of thing yt he wol make,
and moueth the effect of the werke, and lea• he had looked beforne in his thought,
ſimply and preſently by corporall ordinance:
certes, right ſo God in his purueighaunce,
diſponeth ſingulerly and ſtably the things yt
be to doen, but he adminiſtreth in maners, &
in diuers time by Deſtinie, the ilke ſame
thinges that he hath diſponed: then whether
Deſtinie be exerciſed eyther by ſome Diuine
ſpirits, ſeruaunts to the Diuine purueight the purueighaunce is an
vnmouable & ſimple form of things to doen,
and the moueable bond, and the temporel ort all
things that been put vnder deſtiny, been cer• ſurmounten the ordinaunce of deſtiny: and
tho been thilke that ſtably been fixed nigh to
the firſt godhed, they ſurmounten ye order of
deſtinable mouabilitee. For right as circles
turnen about a ſame centre, or about a poinct,
thilke cercle that is innereſt or moſt within,
he joyneth to the ſimpleſſe of the middle, &
is as it were a centre or a poinct to that other
cercles that turnen about him: and thilk y•
is vttereſt, compaſſed by larger enuironning,
is vnfolde by larger ſpaces, in ſo moch as it is
ferthereſt fro the middeleſt ſimplicitie of the
poinct. And if there be any thyng that knitt is
to ſay, into vnmouability, & it ceaſeth to ben
ſhad, and flit diuerſly. Right ſo by ſemblable
reaſon, thilke thing y• departeth furthereſt
fro y• firſt thought of God, it is vnfolden, and
alſo ſubmitted to greater bondes of deſtinie,
and in ſo moch is ye thing more free & loce fro
deſtinie, as it asketh & holdeth nere to thilke
centre of things, that is to ſaine, to God. And
if the thing cleaueth to the ſtedfaſtneſſe of y•
thought of God, & be without mouyng, cert was engendred, to
thing that is of time to eternity, & of the cer• order of mouat ſtable ſimplicity of purueigh• heauen
and the ſterres, and attempreth y• elementes
togither among hem ſelfe, and tranſformeth
hem by enterchaungeable mutacion. And
thilke ſame order neweth ayen all things
growing and falling adoune, by ſemblable
progreſſions of ſeedes and of ſexes, that is to
ſaine, male & female: & this ilke order con• fortunes and the dedes of men
by a bonde of cauſes not able to be vnbount they
ne be not mutable, as thus: be y• things well
gouerned, if that the ſimplicitie dwelling in y•
Diuine thought, ſheweth forthe the order of
cauſes vnable to be bowed: And this order
conſtrayneth by the proper ſtabilitie y• mou• pro• order coming fro y• poinct of Soueraine
good, ne enclineth not fro his beginning. But
thou maieſt ſay, wt vnreſt may been a worſe
confuſion, than that good men haue ſomet they haten. Whet
ſome folke deme hem worthy of mede, other
folke deme hem worthy of turment, but let
vs graunt: I ſuppoſe yt ſome man may well
deeme or know y• good people & the bad, may
he then know and ſee thilke innereſt attemt ne know
it not, why yt ſwete things be couenable to
ſom bodies y• been hole, and to ſom people
bitter things be couenable: & alſo why ſome
people been holpen with light medicines, &
ſome people ben holpen with bitter medicines
but natheleſſe tho yt knowen the maner, & y•
temperaunce of heale and of malady ne mart
other thing ſeemeth malady of courage but
vices? * Who is els keper of good, and dri• gouernour and
leader of thoughts: y• which God, when he
hath beholden from yt high toure of his purt is conuenable to hem. Lo hereof comt
ſeemeth to the Diuine purueighaunce that
all wote. And Lucan my familier telleth, yt
the victorious cauſe lyked to the Goddes, &
the cauſes ouercome, liketh to Caton. Then
what ſo euer thou mayeſt ſeene, yt is done in
this world unhoped or els vnknowen, certes,
it is y• right order of things, but as to thy
wicked opinion, it is a confuſion. But I ſupt ſome man be ſo wel thewed, that the
Diuine judgement, & the judgement of mant if any aduerſitie
come to him, he woll forleten parauenture to
continue innocencie, by the which he ne may
not withholden fortune: then y• wiſe diſpenſa• God wil not
him to trauaile, to whom y• trauail nis nott he would
not ſuffre, that ſoch a man be with any bodit the
ſumme of thinges that been to done is tat the ma
And ſome men that ne mowe not been ouert vertue may not been ouercomt is yeuen to ſhrewes, ſheweth a great
argument to good people, what thing they
ſhould demen of thilke welefulneſſe, whiche
proſperitie men ſeen ofte ſerue to ſhrewes: In
which thing, I trowe that GOD diſpenſeth,
for parauenture, y• nature of ſome man is ſo
ouerthrowyng to euill, and ſo vncouenable,
that ye needy pouertie of his houſhold might
rather agreue him to done felonies, and to
the maladie of him, GOD putteth remedie,
to yeuen him richeſſe. And ſome other man
beholdeth his conſcience defouled with
ſinnes and maketh compariſon of this For
For ſo as there nis none aliaunce betweene
good folkes and ſhrewes, ne ſhrewes ne mo•
ſoverain purueiance hath maked oft tyme
myracle: So that ſhrewes haue maked ſhre• which might yuels been then good, when
it vſeth ye yuels couenably, and draweth out
the effect of any good, as who ſaieth, yt yuel
is good onely to y• might of God, for y• might
of God ordeyneth thilke euill to be good: for
one order embraceth all things, ſo that what
wight departeth from ye reaſon of thilke ort is aſſigned to him, algates yet he ſlit nothing is lefull
to foly, in the realme of diuine purueiaunce,
as who ſayeth, nothing is without ordinance
in the realme of diuine purueiaunce, ſith that
IF thou wiſe wolt demen in thy pure
thought, the rights or the lawes of the
hie thonder, that is to ſain, of God, looke
thou and beholde the heightes of the ſoue
And thus maketh loue enterchaungeable,
the perdurable courſes, and thus is diſcorda
Among theſe things ſitteth the high ma
SEeſt thou not then, what thing followeth
all the things that I haue ſaied. Boeti
Boetius. Forſothe this is a full very rea
THe werker Atrides, that is to ſain, Aga• laſt ende of
trauayle. Goeth now yee ſtrong men, there
as the great enſample leadeth you. O nice
SHe had ſaid, and turned the courſe
of her reaſon to ſome other things,
to be treated and to be ſped. Boe
TIgris and Eufrates, reſoluen and ſpring
THis vnderſtand I well (qd. I) and I ac
HOmer with his hony mouth, that is to
ſaine, Homer with the ſweet ditees
ſingeth, that the Sunne is cleare by pure
light. Natheleſſe, yet ne may it not by the
infirme light of his beames, breaken or per
THen ſaid I thus, now am I confoundt been to comt the neceſſitie of thinges
to commen is cauſe of the purueighaunce.
But I ne enforce me not now to ſhewen it,
that the betiding of thinges iwiſte beforne
is neceſſary, how ſo or in what maner, yt the
order of cauſes hath it ſelfe, although yt it
ne ſeeme not that the preſcience bryng in ne•
opinion be ſoothe of any wight, for that he ſit• I may make ſemblable skilles
of the purueighaunce of God, & of things
to commen. For although that for yt things
been to commen, therefore been they purt
y• things that been purueighed of God, betit
is to ſaine, of our freewill. But certes, now
ſheweth it well how farre fro the ſothe, & how
vp ſo doune is this thing, y• we ſeen that the
betidyng of temporall things is cauſe of the
eterne preſcience. But for to wenen y• God
purueyeth y• things to commen, for they ben
to commen, what other thing is it but for to
wene, that thilke things that betide whilom,
been cauſes of thilk ſouerain purueighaunce
that is in God? And hereto adde I thinges,
that right as when that I wote that a thing
is, it behoueth by neceſſity that thilke ſelfe
thyng be: and eke when I haue knowen that
any thing ſhall betyden, ſo behoueth it by ne• laſt, if that any wight wene a thing
to been otherwiſe than it is, it nis not onely
vnſcience, but it is deceiueable opinion, full
diuers & farre fro the ſothe of ſcience. Wher• thilke thing
is to commen. For right as ſcience ne may
not be medled with falſeneſſe, as who ſaieth,
that if I wote a thing, it ne may not be falſe
that I ne wote it, right of thilke thing that
is conceiued by ſcience, ne may not be none
otherwiſe than as it is conceiued: for that is
y• cauſe why that Science wanteth leſing, as
who ſaieth, why that weting ne receyueth
not leſing of that it wote, for it behoueth by
neceſſity, y• euery thing be right, as Science
comprehendeth it to be. What ſhall I then
ſaine, in which maner knoweth God beforne
all the thinges to commen, if they ne be not
certain, for if that he deme that they been to
commen vneſchuably, and ſo may be that it
is poſſible that they ne ſhullen not comen,
God is deceiued, but not only to trowen that
God is deceyued: but for to ſpeake it with
mouth, it is a felonous ſin. But if that God
wote, that right ſo as things been to com• preſcience of thilke jape,
worthy Deuining of Tireſie Deuinour, y•
ſayd: All that I ſay (qd. he) eyther it ſhall be,
or els it ne ſhall not be, or els how moche is
worth the Deuine preſcience more than the
opinion of mankind, if ſo be that it demeth y•
things vncertain, as men done? Of y• which
domes of men, the betiding nys not certain.
But if ſo be, that none vncertaine things ne
may been in him that is right certayne well
of all things, then is the betidyng certaine
of thilke things which that he hath wiſte be• the thought of GOD that ſeeth all thyngs
without errour of falſeneſſe, bindeth & con• is to ſaine, neyther mede ne payne. And it
ſhould ſeeme then, that thilke thing is alder•
other, that is to ſayne, neyther to good ne
harm, but conſtraineth hem certain neceſſity
of things to comen, then ne ſhullen ther neuer
ben, ne neuer weren vice ne vertue, but it ſhul• which there ne
may be thought no more felonous ne more
wicked, and y• is thus, That ſo as y• order of
things commeth of the purueiaunce of God,
ne that nothing nis leful to the counſailes
of mankind, as who ſaieth, that men haue no
power to doen nothing, ne will nothing, then
followeth it that our vices been referred to
the maker of al good, as who ſaith, then folt
ſhould any wight hopen to God, or why ſhould
he praien to God, ſith yt the ordinaunce of de• ne may not been enclined, knit• price of
rightwiſeneſſe, & of very mekeneſſe, we deſer• guerdon of Diuine grace, which yt is in• it ne
may not been full praiſed, and this is only the
maner, that is to ſay, hope and praiers. For
which it ſeemeth y• men woll ſpeak with God,
& by reaſon of ſupplicacion, ben conjoined to
thilk clearnes, that nis not approched no ra• neceſſitie of things to co
WHat diſcordable cauſe hath to rent and
vnjoyned the binding or the aliaunce
of things, that is to ſaine, the conjunctions
of GOD, and of man? Which GOD hath
eſtabliſhed ſo great battaile betweene theſe
two ſoothfaſte or very things, that is to ſaine,
betweene the purueyaunce of God, and free
will, that been ſingular, and deuided, ne that
they ne wollen not beene meddled, ne cou• darke mem• body, ne may not by fire of his dark• vigour of his
inſight, while the ſoule is in the body, knowen
the thinne ſubtill knittings of things. But
wherefore eſchaufeth it ſo by ſo great loue, to
finden thilke notes of ſooth ycovered, y• is to
ſaine, wherefore eſchaufeth y• thought of man
by ſo great deſire, to know thilk notifications
y• ben ihid vnder y• couertures of ſooth? Wote
it ought thilke things, that it anguiſhous de• text ſayth thus.
But who trauayleth to weten thinges
yknowe? And if that he ne knoweth hem
not, wt ſeeketh thilke blind thought? What
is hee that hath deſired any thynges, of
which hee wote right naught? As who ſaith,
who ſo deſireth any things, needs ſome
But when the ſoule beholdeth and ſeeth
the high thought, y• is to ſayne God, then
knoweth it togither y• ſumme and ſingula• darkee bodie, it ne hath
not all foryeten it ſelfe, but it withholdeth y•
ſumme of thynges, and leſeth the ſingulari•
hee withholdeth, and asketh counſayle, and
retreateth deepliche thinges iſeene beforne,
that is to ſayne, the great ſumme in his
mind, ſo that he mowe adden the partes y• hee
hath foryeten, to thilke parties that he hath
withholden.
THen ſaied ſhe, This is (qd. ſhe) the old
queſtion of the purueyaunce of God.
And Marcus Tullius, when he deuided the
Deuinacions, that is to ſaine, in his bookes
that hee wrote of deuinacions, he moued
greatly this queſtion, and thou thy ſelfe haſte
iſought it much, & vtterly and long, but yet
ne hath it not been determined, ne iſped
fermely & diligently of any of you, and the
cauſe of this darkneſſe & of this difficulty is,
for yt the mouing of ye reaſon of mankinde ne
may not mouen to, yt is to ſayne, applien or
joynen to the ſimplicitie of the diuine preſcie diuine preſci• men mighten thinken it in any mant is to ſayne, yt if men mighten thinke
and comprehenden the things yt God ſeeth
himſelf, then there dwelled vtterly no doubt:
the which reaſon and cauſe of difficulties, I
ſhall aſſay at laſt to ſhew & to ſpeeden, when
I haue firſt iſpended and anſwered to thy rea• thilke reaſons of hem that aſ• which ſolucion, or y• which rea• it deemeth, yt the preſcience is not
of neceſſity of things to come, as who ſaith
any other way than thus, but yt thilke things
• preſcience wote beforn, ne may not vnt is to ſayne, that they moten betide.
But then, if that preſcience ne putteth none
neceſſitie to thinges to commen, as thou thy
ſelfe haſt confeſſed it, and beknow a litle here
beforne, what cauſe, or what is it, as who ſait thou may the better vnder• followeth, I ſuppoſe yt there ne
bee no preſcience: then aſke I (qd. ſhe) in as
much as appertayneth to that, ſhoulden then
thinges yt commen of free will be conſtrained
to betiding by neceſſitie? Boecius. Nay (qd.
I.) Philoſo. Then ayenward (qd. ſhe) I ſupt there be preſcience, but that it ne put• neceſſity of betiding to things
to commen, algates yet it is a ſigne that the
thyngs been to betiden by neceſſitie. By this
manner then, although y• preſcience had neuer
be, yet algates or at leaſt way it is a certain
thing, that ends of betidings of things to
commen ſhoulden be neceſſary. For euery
thing ſheweth & ſignifieth onely what y• thing
is, but it ne maketh not the thing that it ſige prooue
of this, yſuſteined by ſtedfaſt reaſon, ne ſhall
not ben lad ne prooued by ſignes ne by argut I ſhall
ſaine. For we ſeene many thynges, when they
been beforne our eyen, right as men ſeene y•
Carter worching in the tourning and in the
attempring or addreſſing of his carts or chat all thyngs weren moued by con• men done
hem, eke tho ſame things firſt or they be done,
they been to commen without neceſſitie: for
why, there ben ſome things to betiden, of
which the ends & the betidings of hem been
abſolute and quit of all neceſſitie. For certes,
I ne trowe not yt any man would ſayne this,
that the thyngs that men done now, that
they ne were to betiden firſt, ere they were
done. And thilk ſame things, although men
hadden wiſt hem beforne, yet they haue free
betidings. For right as ſcience of things pre•
men done, right ſo to the preſcience of things
to commen, ne bringeth in none neceſſitie to
thinges to betiden. But thou mayeſt ſayne,
that of thilke ſame it is doubted, as whether
y• of thilke things, that ne haue none iſſues
and betidings neceſſaries, if thereof may ben
any preſcience. For certes, they ſeemen to
diſcorden, for thou weneſt, that if that things
been ſeene before, y• neceſſitie followeth hem,
and if neceſſitie fayleth hem, they ne might
not beene wiſt before, and y• nothing may be
comprehended by ſcience, but certaine. And
if tho things ne haue no certain betidings,
be purveighed as certayne, it ſhould be dark• of all
the thyngs y• euery wight hath knowe, they
wene y• tho thyngs been knowe onely by y•
ſtrength, and by the nature of the thynges y•
been wiſt or knowe, and it is all y• contrarie:
for all that euer is knowe, it is rather comc facultie, yt is to ſayne,
the power and the nature of hem y• knowen.
And for y• this thyng ſhould now ſhewe by
a ſhort enſample the roundneſſe of a bodie,
otherwiſe than the ſight of y• eye knoweth it,
and otherwiſe than the touching. The look• bodie together, with•
enuironning, & comprehendeth the parties
by roundneſſe, & the man himſelfe otherwiſe
beholdeth him, and otherwaies imaginacion,
and otherwiſe reaſon, and otherwiſe intelli• eye of
intelligence is higher, for it ſurmounteth y•
enuironning of the vniuerſitie, and looketh
over that, by pure ſubtiltie of thought. The
ilke ſame ſimple forme of man, that is perdu• the higheſt
ſtrengthe for to comprehenden thynges, em• higher ſtrength. For wit ne may
• thynges imaginable & ſen• vni• a man is a thyng
imaginable and ſenſible, and this ſame conſi•
wit ne were not preſent, yet it enuironneth
and comprehendeth all things ſenſible, not by
reaſon ſenſible of deeming, but by reaſon ima• all the things
in knowing, vſen more of her facultie, or of
her power, than they done of the facultie or
of power of things that ben to knowen: ne
y• is no wrong, for ſo as euery judgement is,
that deed or doing of him yt demeth, it be
THen the porch, that is to ſay, a gate of the
towne of Athens, there as Philoſopers
hadden congregacion to diſpute, thilk porch
brought ſometime olde men ful dark in
her ſentences, that is to ſay, Philoſophers,
that highten Stoiciens, that wende that I• ſmoothneſſe, or
in the plaineneſſe of the table of waxe, or in y•
parchemine, that hath no figure ne note in it.
Gloſe. But now argueth Boece agaynſt y•
opinion, and ſayth thus. But if the thriuing
ſoule ne vnpliteth nothing, that is to ſaine, ne
doth thing by his proper mouing, but ſuffreth
and lieth ſubject to the figures, & to y• notes
of bodies without forth, and yeeldeth Images
idle, euill and vaine, in the manner of a mir• enterchaunged way:
for ſometime it heaueth the head, yt is to ſay,
yt it heaueth vp the entencion to right high
things, and ſometime it diſcendeth into right
low thyngs, and when it returneth into him• falſe things
by the true things.
Certes, this ſtrength is cauſe more efficit is
to ſay, the ſufferaunce or the wit in y• quicke
bodie, goeth before exciting, and mouing y•
ſtrengths of the thought, right ſo as when y•
cleareneſſe ſmiteth the eyen, & moueth hem
to ſeeene, or right ſo as voyce or ſoun hurleth
to the eares, and commoueth hem to hearken,
then is the ſtrength of the thought moued &
excited, cleapeth forth to ſemblable mouings
the ſpeces that it halt within it ſelfe, and ad
BVt what is that in bodies to be feeled,
that is to ſay, in the taking: and in
the knowing of bodily thinges. And albeit ſo
yt the qualities of bodies yt be object fro witht the
paſſion of the bodie, that is to ſaine, the
wit, or the ſufferaunce, goeth beforne the
ſtrength, or the worching courage, y• which
paſſion or ſufferaunce clepeth foorth y• deede
of the thought in it ſelfe, and moueth and
exciteth in this meane while the formes y•
reſten withinforth, and in ſenſible bodies,
as I haue ſaid, our courages nis not taught
oremprinted by paſſion to know theſe things,
but demeth & knoweth of his owne ſtrength
the paſſion or ſufferance ſubject to the
body: much more then tho things been
abſolute, and quicke fro all talents or af
For the wit of the bodie, the which wit is
naked, and diſpoiled of all other knowing,
thilke wit commen to beaſtes, the which ne
mowen not mouen hemſelfe here and there,
as Diſters and Muskles, and other ſuch
ſhell-fiſh of the ſea, that cleauen and been
nouriſhed to rocks: but the imaginacion
commeth of remouable beaſts, that ſeemen
to haue talent to flien, or to deſiren any
thing: But reaſon is all onely the linage
of mankind, right as intelligence is all one
Then is there either the judgement of
reaſon ſooth, ne that there nis nothing ſenſi
THe beaſts paſſen by the earths by full di
And other beaſts gladden hemſelf to dig
THerefore then, as I haue ſhewed a little
here beforne, that all thyng that is wiſt,
nis not known by his nature proper, but by
the nature of hem that comprehenden it.
Let vs looken now, in as much as it is lefull
to vs, as who ſaieth, let vs looken now as we
may, which that is the eſtate of the Diuine
ſubſtaunce, ſo that we may well know eke
wt his ſcience is. The common judgement
of all creatures reaſonables then is, that
God is eterne. Let vs conſider then what
For all things that liueth in time, it is pre
* Withſtand then and eſchew thou vices,
worſhip and love thou vertues, areiſe thy
courage to rightfull hopes, yeeld thou humDeo gratias.
In this Book is ſet forth the rare vertues of a cer
Jamque domos patrias Cithiae-poſt aſpera gentis, Praelia laurigeo ſubeuntem Theſea curru, Laetifici plauſus miſſuſque ad ſidera vulgi, &c.
LIttle Lowis my ſonne, I perceiue well
by certaine euidences, thine abilitie
to learne ſciences, touching numbers
and proportions, and alſo well conſi
And God wote that in all theſe languages,
and in many mo, haue theſe concluſions been
ſufficiently learned and taught, and yet by
diuers rules, * Right as diuers pathes lead
Now woll I pray meekely euery perſon
diſcreet, that redeth or heareth this little
Treatiſe, to haue my rude ententing excu
THe firſt party of this Treatiſe ſhall re
THe ſecond party ſhall teach thee to
werken the very practike of the foreſaid
concluſions, as ferre forth, and alſo narrow,
as may bee ſhewed in ſo ſmall an inſtru
THe third party ſhall contayne diuers tables of longitudes and latitudes of ſterres, fixe in the Aſtrolabie. And tables of the declinations of the Sun, and tables of the longitude of citties and townes: and tables, as well for the gouernation of the clocke, as for to finde the altitude meridian, and many another notable concluſion, after the kalenders of the reuerent clerks, Frere Iohn Som, and Frere N. Lenne.
THe fourth party ſhall be a theorike, to
declare the meaning of the celeſtiall
bodies, with the cauſes, the which the fourth
party in ſpeciall ſhall ſhew in a table of the
very meuing of the moone, from one to one,
euery day and euery ſigne, after thine alma
THe fift party ſhall been an introductorie,
after the ſtatutes of our doctors, on
which, thou mayeſt learne a great part of
the generall rules of theorike in Aſtrologie.
In which fift party, thou ſhalt find tables of
equacions of houſes, after the latitude of
Oxenford, and tables of dignities of plan
THy Aſtrolabie hath a ringe to putten on
thy thombe, on thy right honde, in ta
THis ring ronneth in a manner of a tu
THe moder of thine Aſtrolabie, is the thickeſt plate, pierced with a large hole, that receiueth in her wombe the thinne plates, compowned of diuers clymates, and thy rethe ſhapen in manner of a net, or of a webbe of a loppe.
THis moder is deuided on the backe halfe with a line, that commeth diſcending fro the ring downe to the nethereſt bordure, the which line, fro the foreſaid ring vnto the centre of the large hole amidde, is cleaped the South line, or els the line Meridionall: and the remenaunt of this line, downe to the bordure, is cleaped the North line, or all the line of the Midnight.
OVerthwart this foreſaid long line, there
croſſeth him another line of the ſame
length, fro Eaſt to Weſt, of the which line,
from a little croſſe in the bordure, vnto the
centure of the large hole, is cleaped the Eaſt
line, or els the line Orientall: and the reme
Now haſt thou here the foure quarters of
thine Aſtrolabie, deuided after the foure
principall plages or quarters of the firma
THe Eaſt ſide of the Aſtrolabie is cleaped
the right ſide, and the Weſt ſide is
cleaped the lefte ſide. Foryet not this little
Lowis. Put the ringe of thine Aſtrolabie
vpon the thombe of thy right hand, and then
woll his right ſide be toward thy left ſide,
and his left ſide woll be toward thy right
ſide. Take this rule generall, as well on the
backe, as on the wombe ſide. Vpon the ende
of this Eaſt line (as I firſt ſaid) is ymarked
a little croſſe, where as euermore generally
is conſidered the entering of the Eaſt de
FRo the little croſſe, vp to the end of the
Meridionall line, vnder the ring ſhalt
thou finde the bordure, deuided with xc. de
UNder the compaſſe of thilke degrees
been written the names of the twelue
ſignes, as Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer,
Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius,
Capricornus, Aquarius, and Piſces. And the
nombers of the degrees of the ſignes been
written in Augrime aboue, and with long
diuiſions, from fiue to fiue, deuideth from
the time that the ſigne entereth vnto the
laſt end. But vnderſtand well, that theſe de
NExt this followeth the cercle of the daies, that been figured in manner of the degrees, that conteinen in number three hundred threeſcore and fiue, deuided alſo with long ſtrikes, from fiue to fiue, and the numbers of Augrime written vnder the cercle.
NExt the cercle of dayes, followeth the
cercle of the twelue names of the
months, that is to ſay, Ianuarius, Februa
The names of theſe Months taken her
names, ſome for properties, and ſome by ſta
THen followeth the names of the holye dayes in the Kalender, and next hem the letters, A. B. C. on which they fallen.
NExt the foreſaid cercle of the A. B. C.
vnder the croſſe line is marked the
ſcale, in manner of two ſquires, or els in
manner of ledders, that ſerueth by his xxii.
points, and his diuiſions of full many a ſubUmbra recta, or els Umbra extenſa, and the
nether party Umbra verſa.
THen haſt thou a broad rule, that hath on euery ende a ſquare plate, parted with certaine holes, ſome more, and ſome leſſe, to receiuen the ſtremes of the Sunne by day, and eke by mediation of thine eye, to know the altitude of the ſterres by night.
THen is there a large pin, in manner of an exiltre, that goeth through the hole that halt the tables of the climathes in the reeth, in the wombe of the moder, thorow which pin there goeth a little wedge, the which is cleped the Horſe, that ſtraineth all theſe parts together. This foreſaid great pin, in manner of an exiltre, is imagined to be the Pole artike in thine Aſtrolabie.
THe wombe ſide of thine Aſtrolabie is alſo diuided with a long croſſe in foure quarters, from the Caſt to Weſt, and from the South to North, from right ſide to left ſide, as is the backſide.
THe border of which wombe ſide is deui
This border is deuided alſo with 23 let
THe plate vnder the reete, is diſcriued
with three Cercles, of which, the leaſt is
cleaped the Cercle of Cancer, becauſe that
the head of Cancer tourneth euermore conSolſticium of Summer, which declinatiSolſticium of Winter. This ſigne of Capri
UPon this foreſaid plate been compaſſed
certain cercles, that highten almican
FRom this ſignet (as it ſeemeth) there
commen crooked ſtrikes, like to the
clawes of a loppe, or els like to the werke of
a womans calle, in keruing ouerthwart the
almicanteras, and theſe ſame ſtrikes or di
NExt theſe Azimutes, vnder the cercle of
Cancer, been the twelve diviſions em
THy Reete of thine Aſtrolabye, which is
thy Zodiake, ſhapen in manner of a nette,
or of a lop webbe, after the old deſcription,
which thou mayeſt tourne up and doune as
thy ſelf liketh, containeth certaine number
of Sterres fire, with her longitudes and
latitudes determinate, if ſo be that the ma
Generally vnderſtond this rule, that thilke
ſterres that ben cleaped ſterres of the North,
ariſen rather than the degree of her longi
The meaſure of longitude of ſterres, yta
THen haſt thou a Labell, that is ſhapen like a Rule, ſaue that it is ſtrait, and hath no plates on either end, but with the ſmall point of the foreſaid labell ſhalt thou calcule the equacions in the bordure of thine Aſtrolaby, as by thine almury.
THine Almury is cleped the denticle of
Capricorne, or elſe the calculere, this
ſame almury ſet fixe in the head of Capri
REcken and know which is the day of
the Moneth, and lay thy rule upon
the ſame day, and then woll the very point
of thy rule verely ſitten on the bordure, up
Another day I would knowe the degree of
my Sunne, and this was at Midday in the
xiii. day of December, I founde the day of
the moneth in manner as I ſaid: tho laid I
my Rule vpon the foreſaid xiii. day, and
founde the poynt of my Rule vpon the firſt
degree of Capricorne, a little within the de
PVT the ring of thyne Aſtrolabye vpon
thy right thombe, and tourne thy left
ſide againe the light of the Sunne, and re
THen if thou wilt wete the reckening, to
know which is the day in thy Kalene Sunne.
TAke the altitude of the Sunne when
thee liſt, as I have ſayd, and ſet the
degree of the Sunne (in
And when thou haſt yſet the degree of the
Sun vpon as many almicanteras of height,
as was the Sunne, taken by thy rule, lay over
thy Labell vpon the degree of the Sunne, &
then woll the point of the Labell ſitten in the
bordure, vpon the very tide of the day. En
The yeare of our Lorde, a thouſand three
hundred ninety and one, the twelfth daye of
March, I would know the tide of the day, I
tooke y• altitude of my Sunne, and found that
it was 25 degrees, and 30 Minutes of height
of the bordure in the backſide, tho tourned I
mine Aſtrolabye, and becauſe it was before
midday, I tourned my reete, & ſet the degree
of the Sunne, yt is to ſay, the firſt degree of
Aries in the right ſide of mine Aſtrolabie, vpt is cleped an X. Tho
reckened I all the capitall letters, fro ye line
of Midnight, vnto the foreſaid letter X. and
found it was nine of the Clocke of the day.
Tho looked I over my Eaſt Orizont, and
found there the twelue degree of Geminius
aſcending, which that I tooke for mine aſcene line of Mid• Centure of
this Alhabor vpon eighteene degrees, among
my almicanteras, vpon the Weſt-ſide, bee point
of my Labell in the bordure, and found yt
it was after noon, paſſed ſeven of the clocke,
the ſpace of eleven degrees. Tho looked I
downe vpon my Eaſt Orizont, and found
there twenty degrees of Libra aſcending,
whom I tooke for myne aſcendent, and thus
learned ones for ever to know in which mane Meridionall line, the
degree of the Sunne remayneth ſo long con
THen thou wolt weten, to recken & know
which is the day of the month yt thou art
in, and lay ye rule of thy Aſtrolabie, that is to
ſay, the allidatha, vpon the day, in the Kalen
THe aſcendent ſoothly is as well in all nat theſe
Aſtrologians greatly obſerven, wherfore me
ſeemeth convenient, ſens I ſpeake of the
aſcendent, to make of it a ſpeciall declarae foreſaid ſame, gree of
his longitude, men ſay that thilke Planet is
in Horoſcopo, but ſoothly, the houſe of that aſ• Eaſt
angle, is a thing more broad and large, for af• thilke Planet is falling fro the Aſcendent,
yet ſayne theſe Aſtrologiens, that the Aſcent they
have fortunate Planet in her Aſcendent, and
yet in his felicity, and then ſay they that
it is well. Furthermore, they ſayne, that
Fortune of an Aſcendent, is the contrary
of theſe foreſaid thyngs. The Lord of the Aſt he is fortunate, when
he is in good place for the Aſcendent, and
eke the Lord of the Aſcendent is in an an• Aſcen
Natheleſſe, theſe been obſervaunces of ju• Pla
FOr as much as the almicanteras of thine
Aſtrolaby ben compowned by two and
two, whereas ſome almicanteras in ſome
Aſtrolabies be compouned by one, or elſe by
two, it is neceſſary to thy learning, to teach
thee firſt to know, and wriche with thine in• bordure, even amiddes
both prickes, and this woll leaden juſtly the
degree of the Sunne, to ſit betweene both ye
almicanteras in his right place. Lay then
the labell on the degree of the Sunne & find
in the bordure the very tide of the day, or of
the night. And alſo verely ſhalt thou find vp
SEt the nadyre of thy Sunne vpon 18 dee bordure the end of thine
evening, that is very night. The nadire of ye
Sonne is thilke degree that is oppoſite to y•
degree of the Sunne in the 320. ſign, as thus.
SEtte the degree of the Sunne upon thine
Eaſt orizont, and lay thy labell on the
degree of the Sunne, and at the point of thy
labell in the bordure ſet a pricke; turn then
thy reete about, till the degree of the Sun
ſit upon the Weſt orizont, and lay the labell
upon the ſame degree of the Sunne, and at
the point of the labell ſet another pricke.
Recken then the quantitie of time in the
bordure betwixt both prickes, and take there
thine arche of the day: the remenaunt of
the bordure under the orizont, is the arch of
the night. Thus maiſt thou reckon both
arches of euery portion where that thou li
TO know the number of the degrees in the hours inequals, and depart hem by 15, and take there thine houres equals.
KNow thy quantitie of thyne coepuſcu
UNderſtand well, that theſe houres ine
THe quantities of houres equales, that is
to ſayne, the houres of the clock ben de
UNderſtand well, that euermore, fro the
ariſing of the Sunne, till it go to reſt,
the nadire of the Sunne ſhall ſhew the hour
of the plannet, and fro that time forward,
all the nyght, till the Sunne ariſe, then ſhal
the very degree of the Sunne ſhew the hour
of the planet. Enſample as thus. The 13.
day of March fell upon a ſaturday parauen
SEt the centure of the ſterre vpon the Eaſt
orizont, and look what degree of any ſign
that ſitteth vpon the ſame orizont at the
ſame time: and vnderſtand well, that with
the ſame degree ariſeth the ſame ſterre. And
this maruailous ariſing with a ſtrong de
SEt the degree of any ſigne vpon the line
Meridionall, and recken his altitude in
the almicanteras, fro the Eaſt orizont vp to
the ſame degree ſet in the foreſaid line, and
ſet there a pricke: Turne vp then thy reere,
and ſet the head of Aries or Libra in the ſame
Meridionall line, and ſet there another prick.
And when that this is done, conſider the al
REcken how many degrees of almican
SEt the degree of thy Sun upon the line
Meridionall, and recken how many de
SEek buſily with thy rule the higheſt of
the Sun in the midſt of the day, tourne
then thine Aſtrolabie, and with a pricke of
ynke mark the number of the ſame altitude
in the line meridionall. Tourne then thy
reet about, till thou finde a degree of thy
Zodiake according with the pricke, this is to
ſayne, ſitting on the pricke, and in ſooth thou
ſhalt find but two degrees in all the Zodiake,
of that condition. And yet thilke two de
LOok which degrees been ylike from the
heeds of Cancer and Capricorn, and
look when the Sun is in any of thilke de
UNderſtand well, that thy Zodiake is de
TAke the altitude of thy Sterre, when he
is on the Eaſt ſide of the line meridio
SEt the center of the ſterre vpon the line
meridional, and take keepe of thy Zodi
UNderſtand well, that as farre is the
head of Aries or Libra in the equinocti
IN ſome winters night, when the firma
TAke any ſterre fixe that euer deſcendeth
vnder the orizont in thilke region, and
conſider his higheſt altitude and his loweſt
altitude from the orizont, and make a nom
0 82. 51. 0. 20.
UNderſtand well that the latitude of any
place in a region, is verely the ſpace be
THe excellency of the ſphere ſolid amongs
other noble concluſions, ſheweth mani
SEt the head of what ſigne thee liſt to
know the aſcending on the right cercle,
vpon the line meridionall, and wait where
thine almury toucheth the bordure, and ſet
there a pricke, tourne then thy reet weſtward
till the end of the foreſaid ſigne ſet vpon the
meridionall line, and eftſones wait where
thine almury toucheth the bordure, and ſet
there another pricke. Recken then the nom
SEt the head of the ſignes, which as thee
liſt to know his aſcencion vpon the Eaſt
orizont, and wait where thine almury touch
TAke the altitude of thy Sun when thou
liſt, and note well the quarter of the
world in which the Sun is from the time by
the aſymutes, tourne then thine Aſtrolabie,
and ſet the degree of the Sun in the almican
LOok when a Planet is on the line meri
THou muſt firſt conſider that the Sun a
FIrſt, it is deuided in four places principal
COnſider the time of the conjunction by
the Kalender, as thus: how many hours
that the conjunction is fro midday of the day
before, as ſheweth the Canon of the Kalen
THis is no more to ſay, but any time of the
day take the altitude of the Sun, and by
the minutes in which hee aſcendeth thou
might ſee in which party of the Firmament
hee is, and in the ſame wiſe might thou ſee
by night of any ſterre, wheder hee ſit Eaſt,
TAke the altitude of the Moone and re
TAke the altitude of any Sterre, that is
cleped a Planete, and note it well, anone
right take the altitude of ſome ſterre fixe
that thou knoweſt, and note it well alſo, and
come again the third or the fourth night next
folowyng, for then thou ſhalt perceyue well
the meuyng of the Planete whether he meue
forward or backward, and waite well then
when the ſterre fixe is in this ſame altitude
that ſhe was when thou tooke her firſt alti
SEt the beginnyng of the degree that aſ
TAke thyne aſcendent, and then thou haſt
the fower angles, for well thou woteſt,
that the oppoſite is of thine aſcent, that is to
ſay, the beginning of the ſeuenth houſe ſit
vpon the Weſt Orizont, and the beginning
of the tenth houſe vpon the lyne meridional,
and his oppoſite vpon the line of Midnight,
then lay thy labell upon the degree that aſ
TAke a round plate of metal, for warpyng
the border the better, & make there upon a
iuſte compace a little within the bordure, and
lay this round plate vpon an euen ground, or
ſome euen ſtone, or on an euen ſtock fit in thy
ground, & lay it euen by a rule in y• centre of
y• compace, ſticke an euen pinne or a wire upe line,
and wait buſily about tenne or eleuen of the
clocke, when y• ſunne ſheweth, when the ſha• the ſhadow of the pinne or of the wire
paſſe any thyng out of the cercle or compace,
bee it never ſo little, and ſet there a pricke.
Take then a compace and meaſure even the
middle, betwixt both prickes, and ſet there a
pricke: Take then a Rule and draw a ſtrike
even fro the pinne vnto the middle pricke, &
take there the line Meridonall for evermore,
as in y• ſame place. And if thou draw a croſſe
ouerthwarte the compace, juſtly over yc line
Meridionall, then haſte thou Eaſt and Weſt,
and perconſequens the oppoſitife, that is
South and North.
THis lyne Meridional, is but a manner
diſcription of a lyne imagined, that
paſſeth vpon the poles of ye world and by the
ſignet of our hedde: and it is cleaped the
ſignet, for in what place that any man is
at any tyme of the yeere, when the Sunne
by meuyng of the Firmament commeth to
his Meridionall place, then is it the very
Midday, that we cleape Noone: and theret
two Tounes have Meridian like, or one Mee earth,
fro the beginning of the firſt climate, unto
the laſte end of the ſame climate, even directe
againſt the Pole artike, thus ſay ſome auc• arch Meridian, yt
is conteined or intercept, betwixe the ſignet
and the Equinoctiall, then they ſay, that the
diſtaunce fro the Equinoctiall unto the end
of the climate, even ayenſt the Pole artike, is
the Longitude of the climate for South.
KNow by thine Almanack the degree of
the Ecliptike of any ſigne, in which that
the Planet is rekened for to bee, and that is
cleaped the degree of his Longitude. And
knowe alſo the degree of his Latitude fro
the ecliptike, North or South, and by theſe
enſamples following in eſpeciall, thou may• Latitude of Venus,
that is to ſay, in the degree fro the heed of
Capricorne, and thus have I the degrees bec Longitude, I ſet
the point over endlong on y• labell, vpon the
ſpace of the Latitude inward, and on the Zot is to ſay, Northward fro the ecliptike:
then laied I doune my compace, and looked
well in the way upon the ecliptike of A. & F.
then tourned I my reete, till that the pricke
of F. ſate vpon the Orizont, then ſaw I well,
that the body of Venus in her Latitude of
degrees ſeptentrionals, aſcendeth in the end
of the degree fro yt heed of Capricorne. And
note that in this maner thou mighteſt werch
with any latitude ſeptentrional in all ſignes:
but ſothly the latitude Meridional of a pla• Aſtrolabie, and ſikerly in all
other ſignes it may be take. Alſo the de• firſt degree of Piſces on the ecliptike,
then ſet I ye point dounward of F. in yt ſame
ſign, becauſe that the latitude was South
degrees, yt is to ſay, fro the heed of Piſces,
& thus have I degrees betwixt both pricks.
Then ſet I the degree of the longitude vpon
the Orizont, then tooke I my labell, & laid
him fixe vpon y• degree of longitude, then ſet
I y• point of A. on my labell even over the e• end of the degree of y• lon• point of F. endlong on
my labell, the ſpace of degrees of y• latitude
outward fro the Zodiake, that is to ſay,
Southward fro the Ecliptike toward the
bordure, and then tourned I my reete till the
point of F. ſate vpon the Orizont, then ſaw
I well yt the body of Iupiter, in his latitude
of degrees Meridionall, aſcendeth with the
degree of Piſces in horeſcopo. And in this ma
IF thou wilt wirche with Vmbra recta, if thou might come to the baſe of the Toure, in this manner ſhalt thou wirche: take the altitude of the Toure with both holes, ſo that the rule lye even on a point. Enſample, as thus: I ſee him through the poynt of fower, then mete I the ſpace betwixe me and the Toure, and I find it twenty foote, then behold I how fower is to twelue, and I find it is the third part of twelve, Right ſo the ſpace betwixe thee and the Toure is the third part of the altitude of the Toure: then thriſe twenty foot is the higheſt of the toure, with the addition of thine own body fro thine eye. If the Rule fall on fiue, then is fiue times twelue the higheſt of the toure.
IF thou mayeſt not come to the baſe of the
toure, and thou fixe him through the
nomber of one, ſet there a pricke at thy
foote, then go nere the Toure, and ſee him
through at the point of two, and ſet there
an other prick, and then behold how one
hath him to twelve, and thou ſhalt find that
he hath him twelve ſithes, then behold how
two have him to xii, and thou ſhalt find it
ſixe ſithes, and therefore the ſpace betwixe
two prickes, is ſixe times thine altitude. And
note that at the firſt altitude of one, thou ſetEt ſic de ſingulis.
An other maner werchyng by Vmbra recta.
If thou mayeſt not come by the baſe of the
Toure, wirche in this wiſe: Sette thy rule
upon one, till thou ſee the Altitude, and ſet
at thy foote a pricke, and then ſet thy rule
upon two, and ſo do in the ſame manner:
then look what is the difference betwixe one
and two, and thou ſhalt find that it is one:
then meaſure the ſpace betwixe the two
prickes and that is the twelfth part of the
altitude of the Toure, and ſo of all other.
IF thy Rule fall vpon the eight point, on
the right ſhadowe, then make the figure
of eight, then looke how much ſpace of yt feet
is betwixe thee and the Tour, & multiply that
by twelve, & when thou haſte multiplied it by
the ſame nomber, then devide it by the nom• reſi
ANother maner of working vpon the
ſame ſide. Looke vpon what point thy
rule falleth, when thou ſeeſt the top of the
Toure, through the two holes, and then
mete the ſpace from thy foote to the baſe of
the Toure, and right as the nomber of the
point, hath himſelf to twelve, right ſo ye mee height of the ſame Toure. Enſample as
thus: I ſet caſe thy rule fall vpon eight then
is eight two third partes of twelve, ſo is the
ſpace two third partes of the Toure.
TO know the height by the points of Vm
TO know y• height if thou maiſt not come
to y• baſe of y• thing, ſet thy rule vpon wt
point thou wilte, ſo y• thou mayſt ſee y• toppe
of ye thyng through the two holes, & make a
marke there as thy foote ſtandeth, & go nere
or ferther, till thou mayſt ſee it through anot difference is betwixe the two points
in the ſcale, and right as that difference
hath him to xii. right ſo the ſpaces betwix y•
two markes hath hym to the height of the
thyng. Enſample. I ſet the caſe, that thou
ſeeſt it through the point of iiii. and after at
the point of iii. Now paſſeth the nomber of
iiii. the nomber of iii. the diſtaunce of one, &
right as this difference of one, hath himſelf to
FErthermore, if thou wilt know in Vmbra
verſa, by the crafte of Vmbra recta, I
ſuppoſe to take thine altitude at the point of
four, and makeſt a marke, and then thou got cometh
thereof ſhal be 36, & after deuide 144 by three,
and the nomber yt cometh thereof is 48, then
looke what difference is betwixe 36 and 48,
and yt ſhalt thou find 12, and right as 12 hath
him to 12, ſo the ſpace betwixe ye two pricks
hath him to the altitude of the thyng.
MAny men there been, that with eres openly ſprad, ſo moch ſwalowen the deliciouſneſſe of ieſtes and of ryme, by queint knitting coloures, that of the goodneſſe or of the badneſſe of the ſentence, take they litle hede or els none.
Sothely dull witte and a thoughtful ſoule
ſo ſore haue mined & graffed in my ſpirites,
that ſoch craft of enditing woll nat been of
my acquaintaunce. And for rude wordes &
boiſtous percen the hart of the herer to the in
Some men there been that painten with
colours rich, & ſome with vers, as with red
inke, & ſome with coles & chalke: And yet is
there good matter to y• leude people of thilke
chalkie purtreyture, as hem thinketh for the
time, and afterward the ſight of the better
colours yeuen to hem more joye for the firſt
leudneſſe. So ſoothly this leude clowdy oc
Nowe principally, the meane to bring in
knowledging and louing his creatour, is y•
conſideration of things made by ye creatour,
where through be thilke thynges that beene
made, underſtanding here to our wits, arne
the unſeen priueties of God, made to us ſighte full knowledging ſooth,
and to yt parfite loue of the maker of heuende Animalibus, ſayth to naturel Philoe contrary, that is to
ſayne, in Styxe, the foule pitte of hell, arne
thilke preſſed that ſuch goodneſſe hated. And
becauſe this booke ſhall be of loue, and the
prime cauſes of ſtering in that doing with
paſſions and diſeaſes for wanting of deſire,
I will that this booke be cleaped the Teſta
But now thou Reader, who is thilke that
will not in ſcorne laugh, to heare a dwarfe or
els halfe a man, ſay he wil rend out the ſwerd
of Hercules handes: And alſo hee ſhould ſet
Hercules gades a mile yet ferther, and over
that hee had power and ſtrength to pull up
the ſpeare that Aliſander the noble might ne
And that paſſing all thing to been mayſter
of Fraunce by might, there as ye noble gra
Certes, I wote well there ſhall be made
more ſcorne & iape of me, that I ſo unwore cloudie cloude
of vnconning, will putten me in prees to
ſpeke of loue, or els of ye cauſes in yt matter, ſi• ſheues,
and made many ſhockes, yet haue I enſamt hath drawe
vp in y• cloth all ye remiſſailes, as trenchours,
and the releefe to beare to the almeſſe. Yet
alſo haue I leaue of yt noble husband Boece,
although I be a ſtranger of conning to come
after his doctrine, & theſe great worke men,
and gleane my handfuls of y• ſhedding after
their hands, & if me faile ought of my full,
to encreaſe my portion with yt I ſhall draw
by priuities out of ſhockes: a ſlye ſeruaunt in
his owne helpe is often muche commended,
knowyng of trouth in cauſes of thyngs, was
more hardier in the firſt ſeechers, and ſo ſayth
Ariſtotle, and lighter in us that han follow• weather out of
meaſure was boiſtous, and the wylde winde
Boreas, as his kinde asketh, with drying
colds, maked y• wawes of the Decian ſea ſo
to ariſe vnkindely ouer y• commune bankes,
that it was in point to ſpill all the earth.
ALas Fortune alas, I that ſometyme
in delicious houres was wont to ent thinke
euery houre in the day an hundred Winter?
Well may now Eue ſayne to me Adam, In
ſorrow fallen from wealth, driuen art thou
out of Paradiſe, with ſweate thy ſuſtenaunce
to beſwinke. Deepe in this pining pitte, with
wo I ligge yſtocked, with chaynes linked of
care and of tene. It is ſo high from thence I
lie, & of the common yearth, there ne is cable
in no land maked, that might ſtretch to me,
to draw me into bliſſe, ne ſteyers to ſteye on
is none, ſo yt without recouer endleſſe, here
to endure I wote well I purueide. O, where
art thou now friendſhip, that ſometime with
laughande chere, madeſt both face and coun
But lady of loue, ye wote what I meane,
yet thinke on thy ſeruaunt, that for thy loue
ſpilleth, all thyngs haue I forſake, to follow,
en thyne heſtes: reward me wyth a thought,
though ye doe naught els. Remembraunce
of loue lithe ſo ſore vnder my breaſt, yt other
thought commeth not in my mynd, but glad
O wretched foole that I am fallen into ſo
lowe, the heate of my brenning tene hathe
me all defaced: how ſhould ye Lady ſet
priſe on ſo foule filth? My conning is thin,
my witte is exiled, like to a foole naturell
am I compariſoned. Truely lady, but your
mercie the more were, I wote well all my
labour were in idle: your mercie then paſ
God graunt yt propoſition to be verified in
me, ſo y• by truſt of good hope I mow come
to the hauen of eaſe, and ſith it is impoſſible,
the colours of your qualities to chaunge: &
forſooth I wote well, wemme ne ſpotte may
not abide, there ſo noble vertue haboundeth,
ſo that the defacing to you is verily imaginae leaſt point
of Geometrie, ſo ſadly is it fonded, yt away
from your ſeruice in loue, may he not depart,
O loue, when ſhall I been pleaſed? O chari• dice tourne? O full of vertue,
doe y• chaunce of comfort vpward to fall. O
loue, when wolt thou think on thy ſeruaunt?
I can no more, but here outcaſt of al welfare,
abide y• day of my death, or els to ſee y• ſight
that might all my welling ſorrowes voide,
and of y• flood make an ebb. Theſe diſeaſes
mowen well by dureſſe of ſorrow make my
life to unbodie, and ſo for to die: but certes,
ye Ladie in a full perfection of loue, been ſo
knitte with my ſoule, that death maye not
thilke knotte unbinde ne depart, ſo that ye
and my ſaule together, as endeleſſe, in bliſſe
ſhould dwell, and there ſhall my ſoule at the
full been eaſed, that he may haue your pre
O, alas that your nobley, ſo muche among
all other creatures, commended by flowyng
ſtreme, by all manner vertues, but there been
woonderfull, I not whyche that let the flood
to come into my ſoule, wherefore purely ma
REhearſing theſe thynges and many
other, without time or moment of
reſt, mee ſeemed for anguiſh of diſeaſe, that
all togither I was rauiſhed, I cannot tell
how, but holly all my paſſions and fee
Now good lady (qd. I) that art ſo faire on
to looke, ryning honey be thy wordes, bliſſe of
paradiſe arne thy lookings, joy and comfort
are thy mouings, What is thy name? How is
it that in you is ſo mokell werking vertues
enpight, as me ſeemeth, & in none other crea
But for thou ſhalt not wene me, being of
werſe condicion, truly for everiche of my folk,
and for all tho that to me ward be knit in any
condicion, I woll rather die than ſuffer hem
through errour to been ſpilt. For me liſt, and
it me liketh, of all mine a Shepheardeſſe to be
cleaped. Woſt thou not well, I failed never
wight, but he me refuſed, and would negli
Now iwis madame (qd. I) all theſe thyngs
I know well my ſelfe, and that thyne excel
Ah worthy creature (qd. I) and by juſte
cauſe, the name of goddeſſe dignely ye mowe
beat: in thee lithe the grace through which
any creature in this worlde hath any good
In good faith (qd. ſhe) I have knowe thee
ever of tho conditions, & ſithen thou wouldt
I ſhould now faile, but ever I woll be ready,
witneſſing thy ſooth, in what place that ever
I ſhall, ayenſt all tho that woll the contrary
ſuſteine: and for as much as to me is naught
vnknowen, ne hid of thy privy heart, but all
haſt thou tho thynges made to mee open at
the full, that hath cauſed my comming into
this priſon, to void the webbes of thyne eyen,
to make thee clearely to ſee the errours thou
haſt been in: & becauſe that men been of di• I may nor my ſelfe beene in place, to
withſay thilke men that of thee ſpeaken o• w• may be found, woll not tranſ
GReatly was I tho gladded of theſe
words, and as who ſaith, wexen ſome
Now certes Lady (qd. I) y• moſt comfort I
might haue, were vtterly to w•
contrary in defaults and treſpaces) that hee
ne ſped of his ſervice. Mine owne yearthly
lady (quod I tho) and yet remember to your
worthineſſe, how long ſithen, by many revol• yearth, with
great travayle to bring forth more Corne to
mannes ſuſtenaunce ayenſt the next yeares
following. In ſuch time of plenty, hee that
hath an home, and is wiſe, liſt not to wander
mar vailes to ſeech, but he bee conſtrayned or
excited: of the lothe thyng is done by excita•
thirde, and Will eke was there a Mayſter:
theſe broughten mee wythin boorde of this
Shippe of travaile. So when the ſayle was
• lenger I look• more I you goodly dradde, and
euer mine hert on you opened the more, & ſo
in a little time my Ship was out of minde.
But Lady as ye me lad, I was ware both of
beaſtes and of fiſhes, a great number thront I helde my peace a great whyle:
and euer ſithen I haue me bethought on the
man, that ſought the precious Margarites,
and when he had founden one to his liking,
he ſold all his good to buy that iewel: Iwis,
thought I, and yet ſo I thinke, now haue I
founden the iewel that mine herte deſireth,
whereto ſhould I ſeeche further, truly nowe
wol I ſtint, and on this Margarite I ſet mee
for euer. Now than alſo, ſithen I wiſt wel it
was your will, that I ſhould to ſuch a ſeruice
me take, and ſo to deſire that thing of which
I neuer haue bliſſe, there liueth none, but he
hath diſeaſe: your might then, that brought
me to ſuch ſeruice, that to me is cauſe of ſor• leaſt, haue been enmoiſed
with ſight: & for wanting of theſe things, my
mouth would, and he durſt, plein right ſore,
ſithen euils for my goodneſſe arn manyfold to
me holden. I wonder Lady truly, ſaue euer
And with theſe words I braſt out to weep,
that euery tear of mine eyen for greatneſſe
ſemed they boren out the ball of my ſight,
and that all the water had been outronne.
Then thought me, that loue gan a litle too
heauy for miſcomfort of my chear, and gan
ſoberly and in eaſie manner ſpeak, well aui
Meruayle (qd. ſhe) great it is, that by no
manner of ſemblaunt, as ferre as I can
eſpie, thou liſt not to haue any recour, but
euer thou playneſt and ſorroweſt, and ways
of remedy for fooliſh wilfulneſſe thee liſt not
to ſeech: but enquire of thy next friends,
that is thine inwit, and mee that haue ben
thy maiſtreſſe, and the recour and fine of thy
diſeaſe, for of diſeaſe is gladneſſe and joy,
with a full veſſell ſo helded, that it quencheth
the feeling of the firſt tenes. But thou that
were wont not only theſe things remember
in thine heart, but alſo fools thereof to en
And ſhe then ſeeing mee ſo aſtonied by di• Margarite getten, if I followed her
heſts, and gan with a fair cloth to wipen the
tears that hingen on my cheeks: and then
ſaid I in this wiſe. Now well of wiſedom
and of all welth, withouten thee may no
Truly (qd. I) by the firſt, I ſay that janglers
euermore arn ſpeaking rather of euil than of
good, for euery age of man rather enclineth
to wickedneſſe, than any goodneſſe to ad
• iangling, that welnie people vpon
my ſeruaunts maken efte, is rather cauſe of
eſploite, than of any hindering. Why then
qd. I, ſuffer ye ſuch wrong, and moun when
ye liſt, lightly all ſuch yuels abate? me ſee• truly I woll
ſuffer euery wight in that wiſe to haue diſe law of my ſeruaunts
ſo well hath been proued in general, that
hitherto hath it not fayled. Wiſt thou not
well, that all the lawe of kinde is my lawe,
and by God ordayned & eſtablyſhed to dure
by kynde reaſoun: wherefore all lawe, by
mannes wit purveied, ought to be vnderput
to lawe of kinde, whych yet hath be com• old, no ferther than the mal• olde do
But then to thy purpoſe, ſuch iangelers
and lookers, & wayters of games, if they
think in ought they mowe dere, yet loue
well alway, & ſet hem at nought, & let thy port
been low in euery wights preſence, & readie
in thine heart to maintaine that thou haſt be• contrary, for if thou drede ſuch ianglers
thy voyage to make: vnderſtand well, That
he y• dreadeth any raine to ſow his cornes,
he ſhall haue thin bernes: alſo he that is a• weather is often merry & ſmooth.
* After much clattering, there is mokell row• grape, but fruit haue I none found.
Alſo I haue this ſeuen year ſerued Laban to
a wedded Rachel his doughter, but blear eyt
gladneſſe ne ioy by no way wol ſpring, ſo yt
I may weep with Rachell, I may not been
counſayled with ſollace, ſithen iſſue of myne
heartely deſire is fayled. Now then I pray
that to me ſone freedom and grace in thys
eight yeare, this eyghteth mow to me both
by kynreſte and maſſeday after theſe ſeauen
werke daies of trauaile, to follow the chriſten
lawe: and what euer ye doe els, that thilke
Margarite be holden ſo lady in your pryuye
chamber, that ſhe in this caſe to none other
perſon be committed. Look then, qd. ſhe, in
this caſe to none other perſon be committed:
Look then, qd. ſhe, thou perſeuer in my ſert thilke
ſcorne in thy enemies mowe thus on thy pert me liſt aduaunce ſuch perſons as
louen ye firſt ſittings at feaſts, ye higheſt ſtoles
in churches, and in hall, loutings of peoples
in markets and fairs, vnſtedfaſt to bide in
one place any while together, wening his own
wit more excellent than other, ſcorning all
manner device but his owne? Nay, nay, God
wote, theſe ſhall nothing parten of my blyſſe.
Truely my manner heretoforne hath beene,
worſhip with my bliſſe, * Lions in the field, and
Lambes in chamber, Eagles at aſſaute, and
Maidens in hall, Foxes in counſaile, ſtill in
their deeds, and their protection is graunted
ready to been a bridge, and their banner is art from keeping of ſheepe was drawn
vp into the order of kingly gouernaunce, and
Iupiter from a bulle to beene Europes fere,
and Iulius Ceſar from the loweſt degree in
Rome to be maiſter of all earthly princes,
and Eneas from hell to be King of the coun
EVer, qd. ſhe, hath the people in this
worlde deſired to haue had great name
in worthineſſe, and hated foule to beare any
fame, and that is one of the obiections thou
alledgeſt to be ayen thine hertely deſire. Ye
forſooth, qd. I, and that ſo commonly the
people woll lie and bring about ſuch en• wening is wrong,
ſee why, for as much as they lyen thy Mee eſtimation of the
enuious people ne looketh nothing to deſerts
of men, ne to ye merites of their doings, but
only to the auenture of fortune, and thereaft hath adt rich, proſperitie is purveied vnto his
confuſion: & vpon this matter, many authot han aduerſitye,
yet is it merite and encreaſe of his blyſſe: ſo
that theſe purpoſes arne ſo wonderful in vne indifferent
people will iudgen my fame. Therefore, qd.
ſhe, if any wight ſhould yeue a true ſentence
on ſuch matters, ye cauſe of the diſeaſe mayſt
thou ſee well, vnderſtand thereupon after
what end it draweth, yt is to ſayne, good or
bad, ſo ought it to haue his fame, or by goode ſaws of
the wiſe, thou ſhalt not iudge ne deme toforne
thou know. Lady, qd. I, ye remember well,
that in moſt laud & praiſing of certain ſaints
in holy church, is to rehearſen their conuerſae next degree of cone people: I then wening mie ſooth, me rought little of any hate
of the mighty Senatours in thilke city, ne
of communes mallice, for two skilles: One
was, I had comfort to ben in ſuch plite, that
both profite were to me and to my friends: A
Now then tho perſones that ſuch thinges
have caſt to redreſſe, for wrath of my firſte
meddling, ſhopen me to dwell in this pynande
priſon, till Lachaſes my threade no lenger
would twyne. And ever I was ſought, if me
liſt to have grace of my life, and freeneſſe of
that priſon, I ſhoulde openly confeſſe howe
peace might been enduced to enden all y• firſt
rancours. It was fully ſuppoſed my know• mayntenaunce
of theſe foreſayd errours, and in hidyng of
the privities thereof. And that all the peoples
hearts holdyng on the errours ſide, weren
blind, and of elde ſo ferre forth beguiled, yt
debate and ſtrife they maintayned, and in di•
place, than to any other in yearth, as every
kindely creature hath full appetite to that
place of his kindely engendrure, and to wilne
reſte and peace in that ſteede to abide: thilke
peace ſhould thus there have been broken,
which of all wiſe is commended and deſired.
* For know thing it is, all men that deſiren
to commen to y• parfit peace everlaſting, muſt
y• peace by God commended, both maintain
and keepe. This peace by angels voyce was
confirmed, our God entring in this world:
This, as for his teſtament, he left to all his
friends, when he retourned to the place from
whence he came: This his Apoſtle admone• commune admit they hem
ſubmitted to every manner face, rather than
have ſuffred the manner & the rule of the ha
But now it greueth me to remember theſe
diuers ſentences, in jangling of theſe ſheepie
people: certes, me thinketh they oughten to
maken joy that a ſooth may be knowe. For
my trouth and my conſcience been witneſſe
to me both, that this knowing ſoothe haue
I ſaid, for no harm ne malice of tho perſons,
but only for trouth of my ſacrament in my
liegeaunce, by which I was charged on my
Kings behalf. But ſee ye not now Lady,
how the fellonous thoughts of this people,
and couins of wicked men, conſpiren ayen
my ſoothfaſt trouth. See ye not euery wight
that to theſe erronious opinions were aſſen
THen gan Loue ſadly me behold, and ſaid
in a chaunged voice, lower than ſhe had
ſpoken in a time. Fain would I (qd. ſhe) that
thou were holpen, but haſt thou ſaid any
thing, which thou might not prouen? Par
Alſo to ſay trouth rightfullithe, but in judg• entent thy fame to reiſe, when
light of truth in theſe matters is forth ſpron
Owen not yet ſome of hem money for his
commons? Paideſt not thou for ſome of her
diſpences, till they were tourned out of Se
Lo, for which a company thou medleſt, that
neither thee, ne them ſelf mighten help of vn
OFt gan loue to ſtern me theſe words,
think on my ſpeach, for truely hereaf
But if thou were that one Sheep amongs
the hundred, were loſt in deſert, and out of
the way had erred, and now to the flock art
reſtored, the Shepeheard hath in thee no joy,
and thou ayen to the Forreſt tourn. But
that right as the ſorrow and anguiſh was
great, in time of thine out way going, right
ſo joy and gladneſſe ſhall be doubled, to
ſeen thee conuerted, and not as Lothes wife
ayen looking, but hoole counſail with the
Sheep folowing, and with them graſſe and
hearbs gader. Neuer the later (qd. ſhe) I ſay
not theſe things for no wantruſt that I haue,
in ſuppoſing of thee otherwiſe than I ſhould:
for truely I wote well, that now thou art
ſette in ſoche a purpoſe, out of which thee
liſt not to part: But I ſay it, for many men
there ben that to knowing of other mens do• eating of the grape became dronke.
Thou paſſeth not the chaſtity of Lothe, that
lay by his doughter. Eke the nobly of Abra• openly leaueth
a wrong to withſay. Lo eke an old prouerbe,
among many other. * He that is ſtill, ſeem
Now by theſe enſamples, thou might ful
Then ſaied I right thus: Lady of unity
and accorde, enuy & wrath lurken there thou
commeſt in place, ye weten well your ſelue &
ſo done many other, y• while I adminiſtred
the office of common doing, as in ruling of y•
eſtabliſhments amongs y• people, I defouled
neuer my conſcience for no maner deede, but
euer by wit & by counſaile of the wiſeſt, the
matters weren drawen to their right endes.
And thus truly for you Lady, I haue deſired
ſoch cure, & certes in your ſeruice was I not
idle, as far as ſoch doing of my cure ſtretcht may draw many
hertes of noble, & voice of common into glo
Alas, that mankind coueteth in ſo leud a
wiſe, to be rewarded of any good deed, ſith glo• hardeſt ſuch fame into heauen is
not the yearth but a centre to the cercle of
heuen. A pricke is wonderful little in reſpect
of all the cercle, & yet in all this prick may no
name be born in manner of perſing, for many
obſtacles, as waters and wilderneſſe, and
ſtraunge languages, & not onely names of
men ben ſtilled & holden out of knowledgt now out of met joy mayſt thou haue
in yearthly name it is a fair likeneſſe, a pees
or one grain of Wheat, to a thouſand ſhips
full of corne charged. What nomber is be• ſoul deliuered out of priſon of yearth,
is moſt worthy ſoch guerdone among to haue
in the euerlaſting fame, and not the bodye,
that cauſeth all mannes yuils.
OF tway things art thou anſwered, as me
thinketh (qd. Loue) and if any thing be
in doubt in thy ſoul, ſhew it forth thine ig
O (qd. ſhe) fie on ſoch matters, for truely
that is ſacrilege, and that ſhall haue no ſort
with any of my ſeruants, in mine eyen ſhall
ſoch thing not be looked after. How often is
it commanded by theſe paſſed wiſe, yt to one
God ſhall men ſerue, & not two Gods. And
who that liſt to haue mine helps, ſhall aske
none help of foul Spirits. Alas, is not man
maked ſemblable to God? Woſte thou not
well, that all vertue of liueliche werking by
Gods purueighance, is vnderput to reaſona
Hath he not ſoul of feling with beaſts, fiſht in him
is knit all maner of liuings, by a reaſonable
proporcion. Alſo man is made of all y• fower
Elements. All uniuerſity is rekened in him
alone: he hath under god principality aboue
al things. Now is his ſoul here, now a thou• will of reaſonable creatures, God
forbid any man to win that Lordſhip, & ask
help of any thing lower than himſelfe, and
then namely of foule things innominable.
Now then, why ſhouldeſt thou wene to loue
to high, ſithen nothing is thee aboue, but God
alone. Truly I wote wel, that the ilk jewel
is in a manner, euen in line of degree, there
thou art thy ſelue, & nought aboue, ſaue thus:
Angel vpon Angel, Man vpon Man, & Deuil
vpon Deuil, han a maner of Souerainty, &
that ſhal ceaſe at y• day of Dome: & ſo I ſay,
though thou be put to ſerue thilk jewel du
I ſet now the hardeſt in my ſeruice now
thou deydeſt for ſorrow of wanting in thy de• on thee
my ſeruaunt, in thy liue ſhe would not ſuffer
to worche all vertues, withdrawen by might
of the high bodies: Why then ſhouldeſt thou
wene ſo any more. And if thee liſte to looke
vpon the law of kind, and with order, which
to me was ordayned, ſoothly none age, none
ouertourning time, but hitherto had no time
ne power, to chaunge the wedding, ne that
knotte to vnbinde of two hertes, through one
aſſent in my preſence, togither accorden to en• Roſe of
maidenhede be plucked, do way do way, they
know nothing of this: * For conſente of two
hertes alone, maketh the faſtning of ye knot,
neither law of kind, ne mans Low determi• age, ne the quality of perſons,
but onely accord between thilke tway. And
truely, after time that ſuch accorde, by their
conſent in herte, is enſealed & put in my tre• words
of trouth accorden, y• my ſeruants ſhoulden
forſake both father and mother, & be adhe
But now to enforme thee, y• ye been liche
Goddes, theſe Clerkes ſain, and in determi• is to ſaine,
Man, Deuil, and Images, but yet is there
but one God, of whom all goodneſſe, all grace,
and all vertue commeth, & he is louing and
true, and euerlaſting, & prime cauſe of al be
But now reaſonable creature, that by a• great god euerlaſting,
& therby thou art good cleped: let thy fathers
maners ſo entre thy wits, yt thou might fol
FVlly haue I now declared, thine eſtate
to be good, ſo thou follow thereafter,
and that the objection firſt by thee alleged,
in worthineſſe of thy Margarite, ſhall not
thee let, as it ſhall further thee, and increaſe
thee: it is now to declare, the laſt objectit he ſhall, in any degree that menne
him ſet, all be it that the ſoth be in yt contra
Now (qd. ſhe) what weneſt thou of theſe things? How feleſt thou in thine hert, by what governaunce that this commeth about?
Certes (qd. I) that wote I never, but if it
be, that Fortune hath graunt from abode to
lede the end of men as her liketh. Ah now I ſee
(qd. ſhe) the entent of thy meaning: Lo, byEt è contra. Selineſſe begileth, for in
proſperity, ſhee maketh a jape in blindneſſe,
that is, ſhe windeth him to make ſorow when
ſhe withdraweth. Wolte thou not (qd. ſhe)
praiſe him better, that ſheweth to thee his
hert, tho it be with bitande words, and diſpi• hearts of thy ſoothfaſt freends?
Parde they been proved to the full, and the
true have diſcevered from the falſe. Truely
at the goyng of thilke brotell joye, there yede
no more away, than the ilke that was not
thyne proper: He was never from y• light• plaineſt
of loſſe in richeſſe, haſte founden y• moſt dere
worthy thing: that thou cleapeſt vnſely, hath
made the moche thing to winnen. And al
Ah, peace (qd. I) and ſpeak no more of this, mine heart breaketh now thou toucheſt any ſoche wordes. A well (qd. ſhe) then let vs ſingen, thou hereſt no more of theſe things at this tyme.
VEry wealth may not be founden in all this world, and that is well ſeene: Lo how in my moſte comforte, as I wende and moſte ſuppoſed to have had full aunſwere of my contrary thoughtes, ſuddainly it was vaniſhed. And all the workes of man faren in the ſame wiſe, when folke wenen beſt her entent for to have, and willes to perfourme, anon chaunging of the lift ſide to the right halve, torneth it ſo cleane into another kind, that never ſhall it come to the firſt plite in doing.
O this wrongfull ſteering ſo ſoone, other
Alſo many tongues of great falſe teachings
in guiling maner, principally in my times,
not only with words, but alſo with armes,
loues ſeruaunts and profeſſe in his religion
of trew rule, purſewen to confounden and to
diſtroien. And for as much as holy Fathers,
that our Chriſten faith aproued and ſtrength
Now ginneth my pen to quake, to think
But o wel away, thilk ſeed is forſake, and
mowen not been ſuffred the lond tillers to
ſet a werk, without meddling of cockle, bad
wedes which ſometime ſtonken hath caught
the name of loue among ydiotes and bad
meaning people. Neuer the latter, yet how
ſo it be that men cleap thilk King preciouſ
IN this meane while this comfortable
lady gan ſing a wounder mater of endi
Alas that theſe heuenly bodies their light
and courſe ſhewen, as nature yaue hem in
commaundement at the ginning of the firſt
age, but theſe things in free choiſe of reaſon
han none vnderſtanding: but man that ought
to paſſe all thing of doing, of right courſe in
kind, ouerwhelmed ſoothneſſe by wrongfull
title, and hath drawen the Sterre of enuie to
gone by his ſide, that the ciypes of me that
ſhould be his ſhinand Sun, ſo oft is ſey, that
it wened thilk error thorow hem come in,
ſhould been mine own default. Trewely
therefore I haue me withdraw, and made my
dwelling out of land in an yle by my ſelf, in
the Occian cloſed, and yet ſayn there many
they haue me harberowed, but God wote they
faylen. Theſe things me greuen to think,
and namely on paiſed gladneſſe, that in this
world was wont me diſport of high and low,
and now it is failed: they that wolden mai• yearth, but his horſe muſt
been eaſie and hie to hear him ouer great wa• gouernance faileth, as thus: To ſeen
ſmal and low gouern the hie, & bodies aboue.
Certes that poliſie is nought, it is forbode by
them that of gouernance treaten and enfor
What is worth thy body but it be gouerned
with thy ſoul? right ſo litel or nought is worth
earthly power, but if regnatife prudence in
heeds gouern the ſmal, to which heeds the
ſmal owen to obey, and ſuffre in their gouer• ver• woll been gentil, he mote
daunten his fleſh fro vices y• cauſen vngen• I nill for nothing in open declare that
in any thing ayenſt her ſect may ſo wene: for
all vertue and all worthines of pleſaunce in
hem haboundeth. And although I would any
thing ſpeak, truly I can not, I may find in
yuell of hem no maner mater.
RIght with theſe words ſhe ſtint of that lamentable melody, and I gan with a liuely heart to pray, if that it were liking vnto her noble grace, ſhe would her deyn to declare me the mater that firſte was begonne, in which ſhe lefte, and ſtinte to ſpeake beforne ſhe ganne to ſinge.
O (qd. ſhe) this is no newe thing to me to ſeene you men deſiren after mater, which your ſelfe cauſed to void.
Ah good Lady (qd. I) in whom victory
of ſtrength is proued aboue all other thing,
after the judgement of Esdram, whoſe
lordſhip all lignes: Who is that right as
Emperour hem commaundeth, whether
thilke been not women, in whoſe likeneſſe
to me ye aperen. For right as man halte
the principalite of all thing vnder his being,
in the maſculine gender, and no more gen• thinketh women
betray, and ſhewen outward all goodneſſe, till
he haue his will performed. Lo the bird is be• mery voice of the foulers whi• all men been ſo vntrew.
How often haue men changed her loues in a
litel while, or els for failing their wil in their
places hem ſet? for frendſhip ſhal be one, and
fame with another him liſt for to haue, & a
third for delite, or els were he loſt both in
pack & in clothes: is this fair? nay God wot.
I may nat tel by thouſand parts, y• wrongs
in trechery of ſoch falſe people, for make they
neuer ſo good a bond, all ſet ye at a mite
when your hert tourneth: and they that we• pite of your falſe
hert is flow out of town. * Alas therefore,
y• euer any woman wold take any wight in
her grace, till ſhe know at y• full on whom ſhe
might at all aſſays truſt. Women con no
more craft in queint knowing, to vnderſtand
y• falſe diſceiuable conjectments of mans be•
preueth well by thends in your werking.
How many women haue been lorn, and with
ſhame foul ſhent by long laſting time, which
thorow mens gile haue been diſceiued? euer
their fame ſhall dure, & their deeds rad and
ſong in many londs, that they han done re• root. What is heauen y• worſe,
tho Sarazins on it lien? Is your faith vn• fire doth any wight bren, blame his own
wit that put himſelf ſo far in y• heat. Is not
fire gentilleſt, & moſt element comfortable
amongs all other? fire is cheef werker in for• diſpiſen ſo their dames.
The wickedneſſe and giling of men, in di• night. Now to thee thy ſelf
(qd. ſhe) as I haue oft ſaid, I know well thine
hert, thou art none of all the tofore nemp• neuer ſithen I ſet thee a werk,
might thy Margarite for pleaſance, freend
THou ſhalt (qd. ſhe) vnderſtand firſt
among all other things, that all the
cure of my ſeruice, to me in the parfite
bliſſe in doing, is deſired in euery mans
herte, be he neuer ſo moche a wretche,
but euery man trauaileth by diuers ſtudy,
and ſeeke thilke bliſſe by diuers ways, but
all the endes are knitte in ſelineſſe of deſire
in the parfite bliſſe, that is ſoch joy, when
men it haue gotten, there liueth no thing
more to been coueited: But how y• deſire of
ſoch perfection in my ſeruice be kindly ſet in
louers herts, yet her erronious opinions miſ
Therefore Lady (qd. I tho) thilk bliſſe I
haue deſired, and ſothe to forne this my ſelf
by ways of riches, of dignite, of power, and
of renome, wening me in tho thrages had ben
thilk bliſſe, but ayenſt the heer it tourneth.
When I ſuppoſed beſt thilke bliſſe haue get
and come to the full purpoſe of your ſeruice,
ſodainly was I hindred, and throwen ſo fer
abacke, that me thinketh an impoſſible to
come there I left. I woll well (qd. ſhe) & thereErgo,
there is ſome ſoch thing, and ſome way,
but it is littel in vſage, and that is not open
Good Lady (qd. I) altho I ſuppoſe it in my
hert, yet would I hear thine words, how
ye meanen in this matter? (qd. ſhe) that I ſhall
with my good will. The ilke bliſſe deſired,
ſomedeal ye knowen, altho it be not perfitely,
for kindly entencion leadeth you thereto, but
in three maner liuings, is all ſuch ways ſhew
Firſt riches, dignity, renome, and power,
ſhull in this work be cleaped bodily goodes,
for in hem hath been a great throw, mans
truſt of ſillineſs in loue, as in riches ſuffi• was begon by
worldly cattell in dignity, honour, and reue• bliſs of my ſeruice,
but truly they were beguiled, and for the print way thou art entred thy ſelf,
and that thy Margarite may know thee ſet
in the high way, I woll enform thee in this
wiſe. Thou haſt failed of thy firſt purpoſe, bet hath caught full
loue, is tyed with queint knittings, thou ſhalt
vnderſtand, that loue, and thilke foreſaid
bliſſe, toforn declared, in this proouings, ſhall
hote the knot in the heart. Well (qd. I) this
impoſſeſſion I woll well vnderſtand. Now
alſo (qd. ſhe) for the knot in the heart muſt
ben from one to another, and I know thy
deſire: I woll thou vnderſtand theſe mat
WEll (qd. ſhe) thou knoweſt that eue• being of caut you made ſords ouer
all yearthly things, & ye put your worthineſſe
vnder the number of the feet, of lower things
and foul, when ye judge thilke riches to be
your worthineſſe, then put ye your ſelf by eſti
* In riches many men have had tenes & di
ch
they ſhould not haue had, if therof
they had failed. Through which now decla
HOnour in dignity is wened to yeuen
Now (qd. ſhe) if dignity, honour, and reue• ſhrewes rather
than good, ſhul ben cauſe of this knot. But
of thys contrary, of all louers is beleeue, &
for a ſoth openly determined to hold.
Now (qd. I) faine would I heare, how ſuch dignities accorden with ſhrewes.
O (qd. ſhe) that woll I ſhewe in manyfolde
wiſe. Ye wene (qd. ſhe) that dignities of office
here in your City, is as the Sunne, it ſhineth
bright withouten any cloud: whyche thyng,
when they commen in y• hands of malicious
tyraunts, there commeth muche harme, and
more greuaunce thereof, than of y• wild fire,
though it brende all a ſtreete. Certes, in dig• werks of y• occupier ſhewen
the mallice and the badneſſe in the perſone,
with ſhrewes they maken manifolde harmes,
and muche people ſhamen. How often han
rancours, for mallice of y• gouernour ſhoulde
been maintained? Hath not then ſuch digni• is ſelde
y• ſuch dignity is betake in a good mannes
gouernaunce. What thing is to recken in y•
dignities goodneſſe? Parde the bounty and
goodneſſe is hers, that vſen it in good gouer• occupyer,
and not to the ruler, becauſe of ſoueraignety
in dignity. Sithen dignity may no vertue
cauſe, who is worthy worſhip for ſuch good• ſhrewes
haue hem more often than good men, ſiker
mayeſt thou be, that kindely good in ſuch
things is not appropred. Parde were they
kindly good, as well one as other ſhoulden
euenlich in vertue of gouernaunce ben worth:
but one faileth in goodneſſe, another doth the
contrary, and ſo it ſheweth kindely goodneſſe,
in dignity not be grounded. And this ſame
reaſon (qd. ſhe) may be made in generall, on all
y• bodily goods, for they commen oft to throw
out ſhrewes. After this he is ſtrong, y• hath
might to haue great burthens, & he is light
and ſwift, that hath ſoueraignty in ronning
to paſſe other: right ſo he is a ſhrew, on whom
ſhreude thinges and bad han moſt werching.
And right as Phyloſophy maketh Philoſo• han full inſight & knowing
of ſuch impediments, enform you of the ſooth,
very ideots ye been, but if ye yeuen credence
to thilk clerks words. And yet it dooth me
te
Wherfore, if thou deſire y• knot of this jew
AVaileth aught (qd. ſhe) power of
might, in maintenaunce of woorthy,
to come to this knot. Parde (qd. I) ye,
for herts ben rauiſhed from ſuch manner
things. Certes (qd. ſhe) though a fooles
hearte is with thing rauiſhed, yet there
Now truly, a great fool is he, that for
ſuch thing would ſet the knot in thine heart.
Alſo power of realms is not thilk greateſt
power, amongs the worldly powers recke
• power of emperors or kings, or
els of their realms (which is the power of the
Prince) ſtretchen wide & broad, yet beſides is
there mokel folke, of which he hath no com• maketh hem wretches. No
power is wretchedneſſe, and nothing els: but
in this maner hath kings more portion of
wretchedneſſe, than of power. Truly ſuch
powers been vnmighty, foreuer they ben in
drede, how thilke power from leſing may be
keeped of ſorrow, ſo drede ſorrily pricks euer
in their herts: Little is that power, whych ca• wretchedneſſe, which is entered by
y• feardfull wening of the wretch himſelf: and
knot ymaked by wretchedneſſe, is betweene
wretches, & wretches all thynge bewaylen:
wherefore the knotte ſhould be bewayled, and
there is no ſuch parfite bliſſe that we ſuppot is blind of his might, & wote it not.
That is footh (qd. I) Then if he wote it, he
muſt needs been adradde to leſen it. He that
wote of his might, is in doubt that hee mote
needes leſe, & ſo leadeth him dreade to been
vnmighty. And if he retch not to le• worth, that of the leſing reaſon retcheth
nothing: and if it were mighty in power or
in ſtrength, the leaſing ſhould ben withſet, &
when it commeth to y• leaſing, he may it not
withſitte. Ergo thilke might is leud & naugh• I haue ſeen ouerthrowed
my ſelfe, and hadden they ben vnderput with
any helpes, they had not ſo lightly fall. Then
holdeſt thou him mighty, that hath many
men armed, & many ſeruaunts, and euer he
is adradde of hem in his heart, & for he ga•
houre drede: Little is that might, and right
leaude, who ſo taketh heed. Then ſeemeth it
(qd. I) that ſuch famulers about kinges and
great lords, ſhul great might haue. Although
a ſipher in augrim haue no might in ſignifica•
a poſte alone ſtondyng vpright vpon a baſſe,
may lenger in great burthen endure, than
croked pillers for all their helpes, and her
ground he not ſiker. That is ſooth (qd. ſhe) for
as y• blinde in bearing of the lame ginne ſtom• ground,
fayleth all togider: howe oft then ſuch famu• heauineſſe of ſuch
falling cometh by caſe of fortune, they mow
it not eſchew: and might and power, if there
were any, ſhould of ſtrength ſuch things void
and weiue, and ſo it is not. Lo then whyche
things is this power, y• tho men han it they
ben agaſt, & in no time of full hauing be they
ſiker: and if they would weyue drede, as they
mowe not, little is in worthineſſe. Fie there• ſetten their hearts vpon ſuch
mights & powers, often ben beguiled. Parde
he is not mighty, y• may doe any thing, that
another may done him the ſelue, & that men
haue as reat power ouer hym, as he ouer
other. A juſtice y• deemeth men, ayenward
hath ben often deemed. Buſerus ſlewe his
gueſts, & he was ſlayne of Hercules his gueſt.
Hugeſt betraiſhed many menne, and of Collo
was be betrayed. * He y• with ſwerd ſmiteth,
with ſwerd ſhall be ſmitten. Then gan I to
ſtudien a while on theſe thyngs, and made a
countenaunce with my hand in manner to
been huiſht. Now let ſeene (qd. ſhe) me think
VErely it is prooued, that richeſſe, digni
Certes (qd. I) yes I trow, for your ſlye
reaſons I dare not ſafely it ſay. Then (qd.
ſhe) woll I proue, that ſhrewes as rathe ſhull
ben in the knot as the good, and that were
ayenſt kind. Fayne (qd. I) would I that hear,
me thinketh wonder how renome ſhould as
well knit a ſhrewe as a good perſone: re• knot: lo foole (qd. ſhe) how clerkes
writen of ſuch glory of renoume. * O glory,
glory, thou art none other thing to thou• people guiltleſſe lack• with wrong prayſeth, & alſo to the deſerts
praiſed, and villany and reproofe of him that
diſclaundreth.
Good child (qd. ſhe) what echeth ſuch re• loo• mo folke not pray• ret come of thyne aunceſtres deſerts,
& if ſo be that prayſing & renome of their de
How paſſing is ye beauty of fleſhly bodies?
More flittyng than mouable flours of Sumt may ſeen thorow many ſtone wals,
and both faire & foule in their entrailes, of
no manner hewe ſhould appear to thy ſight,
yt were a foule ſight. Then is fairneſſe by feee wine moneth of Iune: The
ſprings of May faden & followen in October.
Theſe thynges be not vnbounden from their
old kind, they haue not loſt her work of their
proper eſtate. Men of voluntarious will
withſit yt heuens gouerneth. Other things
ſuffren thinges patiently to werche: * Man
in wt eſtate he be, yet would he ben chaunged.
Thus by queint thyngs bliſſe is deſired, and
the fruit that commeth of theſe ſprings, nis
but anguis and bitter, although it be a whyle
ſweet, it may not be withhold, haſtely they det fooles
wend. Right thus haſt thou fayled in thy firſt
wening. He yt thinketh to ſayle, & draw after
the courſe of that ſtarre, de Polo Antartico,
ſhall he neuer come Northward to ye contrary
ſterre of Polus Articus: of whyche things
if thou take keepe, thy firſt outwaye going,
priſon and exile may be cleaped. The ground
falſed vnderneath, and ſo haſte thou fayled.
No wight I wene blameth hym that ſtinteth
in miſgoyng, and ſeecheth ready way of his
bliſſe. Now me thinketh (qd. ſhe) that it ſuf
EVery argument lady (qd. I tho) that ye
han maked in theſe fore nempned matt in earthly things lightt knowing may be
getten: but of ſuch heauenly melody, mokell
trauayle woll bring out in knowing right lite couetiſe of knitting in your hearts: * More
ſoueraign deſire hath euery wight in little
hearing of heauenly conning, than of mokell
materiall purpoſes in yearth. Right ſo it is
in property of my ſeruaunts, yt they ben more
affyched in ſtering of little thing in his deſire,
than of mokell other matter, laſſe in his con• euer any wretch ſhould tho• openly dare
it not been vſed: truely wretches been fulfil• goodneſs were as much as y• nobly in met goodneſs may be accomp• ſhalt thou vnderſtand. Is not euery thing
good y• is contrariaunt and deſtroying euill?
How els (qd. I.) Enuy, wrath, and falſeneſſe
been generall (qd. ſhe) and yt wote euery man
being in his right mynd, y• knot y• whych we
haue in this bleſſe, is contrariaunt, & diſtroyt
hath cauſed any wight to do any good dede?
Find me any good, but if this knot be the
cheefe cauſe: Needes mote it be good, that
cauſeth ſo many good deeds. * Euery cauſe
is more, and worthier than thing cauſed, &
in that mores poſſeſſion, all things leſſe been
compted. As the king is more than his peo• knot is more than all other goods,
thou might recken all things laſſe, & that to
him longeth oweth into his mores cauſes of
worſhip and of will do tourne, it is els rebell,
and out of his mores defendyng to voyde.
Right ſo of euery goodneſſe into the knot &
into the cauſe of his worſhip oweth to tourne.
And truely, euery thyng y• hath being, profi• rancour is outthreſten: Who yt
it lengeſt keepeth, lengeſt is gladded. I trow
(qd. I) heretikes, and miſſe meaning people
hence forward woll maintain this knotte, for
therethrough ſhull they been maintayned, &
vtterly woll tourne, & leaue their old euill vnt name of ſeruaunts might
they haue. Their jangles ſhall ceaſe, me think• endleſs joy, body & ſoul togider, in this
ſhullen abiden, there is euer action of bliſſe
withouten poſſible corruption, there is action
perpetuell in werke without trauayle, there
is euerlaſting paſſyfe withouten any of lat
God is of routh, an high in the hollowneſſe
of heauen, there he ſit in his trone, and euer
thou ſhalt forward been holden among all
theſe heuins for a knight, that mighteſt with
no pennaunce been diſcomfited. He is a very
martir, that liuingly going, is gnawn to the
bones. Certes (qd. I) theſe been good words
of comfort, a little mine heart is rejoyced in
a merry wiſe. Ye (qd. ſhe) and he y• is in hea• better
cheare, but my thoughtful ſorrow is endleſs,
to think how I am caſt out of a welfare, & yet
daineth not this euill none heart none heed
to meward throw, which things would greate weight of a peaſe: Slinges of her
daunger ſo heauily peiſen, they drawe my
cauſes ſo high, yt in her eyen they ſemen but
lite and right little.
O, for (qd. ſhe) heauen with skies, that foul
clouds maken, and dark wethers, with great
tempeſts and huge, maketh the merry dayes
with ſoft ſhining ſonnes. Alſo the year with• liuing creatures for great
perill of hem dreden: right ſo the ſame ſees
maketh ſmooth waters and golden ſayling,
and comforteth hem, with noble hauen that
firſt were ſo ferde. Haſt thou not (qd. ſhe) leare heuenly bodies, which
hauen full werching here on earth, and after
e days of y• week haue take her names,
after denomination in theſe ſeuen planets.
Lo your ſunday ginneth at y• firſt hour after
noon on y• ſaturday, in which hour is then the
ſunne in ful might of worching, of whom ſun• time to rule, of whom Munday taketh
his name, & this courſe followeth of all other
days generally in doing. This courſe of na• followen kind & reaſon,
wherefore the courſe that followeth ſorrowe
and joye, kindely moten enterchaungen their
times, ſo that alway one wele as alway one
wo may not endure. Thus ſeeſt thou apert• I with all
my mights right blithely woll helpe, & euer
been ready you both to pleaſe. And then
thanked I that lady with all goodly manner yt
I worthely coud, and truly I was greatly ret ſhe me would
ordain while my life leſted.
ME thinketh (qd. I) that ye haue right
well declared, that way to the knot
ſhould not beene in none of theſe diſproo
Thou ſhalt (qd ſhe) vnderſtand, that one
of three liues (as I firſt ſaid) euery creature of
mankind is ſprongen, & ſo forth proceedeth.
Theſe liues been thorow names departed in
threee manner of kinds, as beſtiallich, man• liueth by luſts &
delites, as him that is thrall and bounden ſer
See now (qd. ſhe) that theſe bodily goods of
manlich liuings, yeelden ſorrowfully ſtounds
and ſmertand hours. Who ſo well remem• hath had his honey, anone at his flight be
Forſooth (qd. I.) me thinketh I am well ſer• time, in forthering of my ſuſtenaunce,
which while it dured, I thought me hauyng
mokell honey to mine eſtate. I had richeſſe
ſufficiauntly to weiue neede, I had dignity to
be reuerenced in worſhip. Power me thought
that I had to keep fro mine enemies, and me
ſeemed to ſhine in glory of renome, as man• of tho confederacies, maked by my ſo• other way lady, me thought right
ſweet. Now certes (qd. Loue) me liſt for to
chide. What aileth thy dark dulneſſe? Woll
it not in clereneſſe been ſharped. Haue I not
by many reaſons to thee ſhewed, ſuch bodily
goods failen to yeue bleſſe, their might ſo ferre
fot hath dignity,
is crooked or lame, or els miſhapen, and fouly
diſpiſed. Thus partable theſe goods dwellen,
commonly in one houſhold been they but
• woll not accord. Me thinketh thou clepeſt
thilke plite thou were in, ſelineſſe of fortune,
& thou ſayeſt for that y• ſilineſſe is departed,
thou art a wretch. Then followeth this vp• when it paſ• both of this world, art thou now a ſudt brought thee in
mortal ſorrow? Ben theſe not mortal things
agone, with ignoraunce of beaſtiall wit, and
haſte receiued reaſon in knowing of vertue?
What comfort is in thy hert? The knowyng
ſikerly in my ſeruice be grounded. And woſt
thou not well, as I ſaid, that death maketh
end of all fortune? What then, ſtandeſt thou
in noble plite, litle heed or recking to take, if
thou let fortune paſſe ding, or els that ſhe flie
when ſhe liſt, now by thy liue. Parde a man
hath nothing ſo lefe as his life, & for to hold
that, he doth all his cure & dilligent trauaile.
Then ſay I thou art blisful and fortunate
ſelie, if thou know thy goods, yt thou haſt yet
be loued, whych nothing may doubt, yt they ne
ben more worthy than thy life? What is that
(qd. I) Good contemplation (qd. ſhe) of well
doing in vertue, in time comming, both in
pleſaunce of me, & of thy Margarite pearle:
haſtely thyne heart in full bliſſe, with her ſhall
be eaſed. Therefore diſmay thee not, fortune
in hate greeuouſly ayenſt thy bodily perſon,
ne yet to great tempeſt hath ſhe not ſent to
thee, ſithen the holding cables and ankers of
thy life holden by knitting ſo faſt, yt thou diſt is miſſe,
and all defaultes yt ſometime thou diddeſt, &
that now in all thy time, to y• ilke Margarite
in full ſeruice of my lore, thine heart hath
continued, wherefore ſhe ought much y• ra• holding anker in thy
liue, & holden mote they: To God I pray all
theſe things at full been performed. For
while this anker holdeth, I hope thou ſhalt
ſafely eſcape, and while thy true meaning
ſeruice about bring, in diſpite of all falſe
meaners, y• thee of new haten, for this true
ſeruice, thou art now entered.
CErtes (qd. I) among things I asked
a queſtion, whych was the way to
the knot. Truely lady, how ſo it be, I
tempt you with queſtions and anſweres,
in ſpeaking of my firſt ſeruice, I am now
in full purpoſe in the pricke of the hert, that
thilk ſeruice was an enpriſonment, & alway
bad & naughty, in no manner to be deſired.
Ne y• in getting of y• knot may it nothing at is ſooth, & there thou haſt
miſwent, eſchew yt path from hence forward
I rede. Wonder I truely, why the mortall
folke of this world ſeech theſe ways outforth,
and it is priued in your ſelf. Lo how ye ben
confounded with errour and folly. The
knowing of very cauſe and way, is goodneſs
and vertue. Is there any thing to thee more
precious than thy ſelf? Thou ſhalt haue in thy
• thou wouldeſt neuer leſe, and that
in no way may be taken fro thee, and thilke
thing is y• is cauſe of this knot. And if deth
mowe it not reue, more than an yearthly
creture, thilk thing then abideth with thy ſelf
ſoul. And ſo our concluſion, to make ſuch a
knot thus getten, abideth with this thing, &
with the ſoul, as long as they laſt. * A ſoul
dieth neuer, vertue and goodneſſe euermore
with the ſoule endureth, and this knot is per•
bodily workyng: * And when the ſoule is
the maiſter ouer the body, then is a manne
maiſter of himſelfe: and a man to be a mai• hie
way to this knot. Theſe old Philoſophers,
that hadden no knowyng of Diuine grace of
kindely reaſon alone, wenden that of pure na• hath truſt in y• bodily life, is ſo
buſie bodily woundes to annoint, in keeping
from ſmert (for all out may they not be healt of woundes in his true vnderſtanding,
he taketh no heed, the knowing euen foorth
ſleepeth ſo hard, but anone as in knowing a• ſoule
by ſteryng lyfe of the body, and els may no
man come to perfite bliſſe of this knot: and
thus by this way he ſhall come to the knot,
and to the perfite ſilineſſe y• he wende haue
had in bodily goods outfoorth? Ye (qd. I) ſhall
he haue both knot, riches, power, dignity, and
renome in this manner way? Ye (qd. ſhe) yt
ſhall I ſhew thee. * Is he no riche yt hath
ſuffiſance, and hath the power that no man
may amaiſtrien? Is not greate dignity to
haue worſhippe and reuerence? And hath he
not glory of renome, whoſe name perpetuall
is duryng, & out of nomber in comparacion?
Theſe be things that men wenen to get• naught is, thereof in
all ne in party, longe mowe they gapen aft ſechen gold in greene trees, and wene to
gader precious ſtones emong vines, & laine
her nettes in mountaynes to fiſhe, & thinken
to hunt in deepe Seas after Harte & Hinde,
and ſechen in yearth thilke things that ſurt ſhould been vſed. Theret man ſo tourmented ſoche power, yt he nill
be diſcomfite, ne ouercome may he not been,
ſithen pacience in his ſoule ouercometh, and
as not ouercommen. Soch thing that may
not be a maiſtred, he hath neede to nothyng,
for he hath ſuffiſaunce inow to helpe himſelf.
And thilke thing that thus hath power and
ſuffiſaunce, and no tiraunt may it reue, and
hath dignity to ſette at naught all thynges,
here it is a great dignity that death may a
maiſtry. Wherefore thilke power ſuffiſaunce
ſo encloſed with dignity, by all reaſon re• end• vertue with full gripe, ent ſhe vſed nothing
in euill, to quite y• wicked leaſings, that falſe
tongues oft in her haue laid. I haue ſey it
my ſelfe, goodly foryeueneſſe hath ſprong out
of her hert, vnity and accorde aboue all other
things, ſhe deſireth in a good meeke maner, &
ſuffreth many wicked tales.
TRuely Lady, to you it were a great
worſhip, that ſoch things by due cha• vertue in thee faileth. And this bliſs
perfitly without vertue, may not be gotten,
thou weneſt of theſe words, contradiccion to
follow. Parde at the hardeſt I haue no ſer
RIght with theſe woords, on this Lady
I threw vp mine iyen, to ſee her coun
It is well know, both to Reaſon and Ex
Euery fire heateth the like thing that it
neighed, & it be able to be heat, vertue of this
Margarit outforth wrethe, & nothing is more
able to ſuffer woorching, or woorke catche of
the actife, but paſſife of the ſame actife, and
no paſſife to vertues of this Margarite, but
thee in all my donet can I find, ſo that her
vertue muſt needs on thee werche, in what
place euer thou be, within diſtaunce of her
woorthineſſe, as her very paſſife thou art clo
Lady (qd. I) this is a good leſſon, in gint thy
jewell, thilk Margarite thou deſireſt, was
cloſed in a musk, with a blew ſhell. Ye for
Kindely heauen, when mery weather is
a lofte, appeareth in mans iye of colour in
Blewe, ſtedfaſtneſſe in peace, betokening
within and without: Margarite is engent is well ſeen. In euery
good wights herte, ſhe hath grace of com
CErtes (qd. Loue) thou haſt well be
Of good in kind, Auguſtine ſaith, all that
been, been good: but peraunter thou wouldſt
wete, whether of hemſelf it bee good, or els
of an others goodneſſe, for naturell goodneſſe
of euery ſubſtaunce, is nothing els than his
ſubſtaunciall being, which is icleaped good• ground ye alledged
to be rooted: whence is it, that ſoch badneſſe
hath ſpringes, ſithen all things thus in ge• doer, wherfore
at the ginning of the world, euery thing by
himſelf was good, & in vniuerſall they wern
right good. An iye or a hand is fairer & bet• body diſceuered. Euery thing in his
kindly place being kindly, good doth werch,
and out of y• place voided, it diſſolueth and
is defouled him ſelue. Our noble GOD in
gliterand wiſe by armony this world ordein
What weneſt thou I rejoyce, or els ac
Now by my trouth (qd. I) this is well de
Fyre, and if he yeue none heat, for fire is
not deemed. The Sunne but he ſhyne, for
ſunne is not accompted. Water, but it wete,
y• name ſhal been chaunged. Vertue but it
werch, of goodnes doth it fail, & in to his cone name ſhall be reverſed, & theſe been
impoſſible: wherefore the contradictory that
is neceſſary, needs muſt I leue. Certes (qd.
ſhe) in thy perſon and out of thy mouth theſe
words lien well to been ſaid, and in thine vn
IN theſe thynges (qd. ſhe) that me liſt now
to ſhewe openly, ſhall be founde the matt way he is in: forſoth ſoch one may light• werkes miſcorden. Thus fareth fayn• in thy
kind courſe of good meaning I returne thy
minde: I trow ne had I ſhewed thee thy
Margarite, thou haddeſt neuer returned. Of
firſt in good parfite joy was euer fayned loue
impacient, as the water of Syloe, whiche
euermore floweth with ſtilneſs & priuy noyſe
till it come nygh the brink, & then ginneth it
ſo out of meaſure to bolne, with nouelleries
of chaungyng ſtorms, that in courſe of euery
rennyng, it is in point to ſpill all his circuit
of banks. Thus fayned loue priuely at the
fulleſt of his flowyng, new ſtorms debate to
arayſe. And all be it y• Mercurius often with
hole vnderſtandyng, knowen ſoch perillous
matters, yet Veneriens ſo luſty been and ſo
leude in theyr wits, y• in ſoch things right li• been fallas & lying
gloſe of which mowe they not ſouke milke of
health, but deadly venym & poyſon, corrup• ſorineſſe of
fayned loue, needs of theſe ſurfets, ſickneſſe
muſt follow. * Thus as an Ox to thy lan• ſote of the
ſmoke hath thee all defaſed. Euer ye deeper
thou ſometime wadeſt, y• ſooner thou it found:
if it had thee killed it had be littell wonder.
But on y• other ſide, my trew ſeruants not
faynen ne diſceyue conne, ſoothly their doyng
is open, my foundement endureth, be ye burt I in ſoche ſharp dit thinkeſt in
thy witte? How ferre may my wit ſtretch?
And thou lach not on thy ſide I woll make
the knotte: Certes in thy good bering I woll
accorde with the Pſauter. I haue found Dat I ſee
in the grounded, this purpoſe to parfourme,
draweth my by maner of conſtrayning, that
needes muſt I been thine helper: although
mirthe a while be taried, it ſhal come at ſoch
ſeaſon, that thy thought ſhall been joyed: &
would neuer GOD, ſithen thyne hert to my
reaſons arne aſſented, and openly haſte
confeſſed thine amiſſe going, and now crieſt
after mercy, but if mercy followed: thy
bliſſe ſhall been ready ywis, thou ne woſt
how ſone.
Now be a good childe I rede. The kind of
vertues in thy Margarite rehearſed, by
ſtrength of me in thy perſon ſhull werch.
Comfort thee in this, for thou maiſt not miſ
OF nombre ſain theſe clerks that it is naturell ſome of diſcrete thinges, as in telling one, two, three, and ſo forth: but among all nombres three is determined for moſt certaine. Wherfore in nombre certain this werke of my beſie leudenes, I think to end and parfourme.
Enſample by this worlde in three times is
deuided: Of which y• firſt is cleped Dema• true way in fordoing of y•
badde, and that is ycleped time of grace: &
that thing is not yeuen by deſert of yelding,
one benefite for another, but onely through
goodneſſe of ye yeuer of grace in thilke tyme.
Who ſo can well vnderſtand, is ſhapen to be
ſaued in ſouled bliſſe. The third time ſhal gin
when tranſitory things of worldes han made
their end, and that ſhall been in joy, glory,
and red both body and ſoule, that well han
deſerued in the tyme of grace. And thus in y•
heauen togither ſhull they dwell perpetuelly,
without any ymaginatife yuel in any halue.
Theſe times are figured by tho three dayes
that our God was cloſed in yearth, and in the
third aroſe, ſhewyng our reſurrection to joy &
bliſſe, of tho yt it deſeruen, by his merciable
grace. So this leude booke in three matters
accordaunt to tho times, lightely by a good
inſeer may been vnderſtande, as in y• firſt er• heavenly dewe ye beſt been engendred: in
which by experience ben found three fayre vere earth.
For in ſoothneſſe y• certaine quantity of that
Planet is vnknowen to erthly dwellers, & yet
by opinion of ſome men, it is holden for more
than middle erth. The firſt ſpece of Philoſo• is peace & reſt, they cauſen nou• three ſpeces. In which matt is to ſay, Law,
Right, & Cuſtom, which I woll declare: all
that is law, commeth of Gods ordinaunce by
kindely worchyng: & thilke things ordayned
by mans wittes arne icleped right, which is
ordayned by many maners and in conſtitu• is
a• beginnyng of reaſonable
creature, it varied yet neuer for no chaung• innocence ſikert contrarien law of kinde, vtterly been
repugnant & aduerſary to our gods will of
Heauen. Trewly lawe of kinde for goddes
own luſty will is verily to mayntaine, vnder
which law (and vnworthy) both profeſſe and
reguler arn obediencer and bounden to this
Margarit pearl, as by knot of loues ſtatutes
& ſtabliſhment in kind, which y• goodly may
not ben withſetten. Lo vnder this bonde am
I conſtrained to abide, & man vnder liuyng
lawe ruled, by yt law oweth after deſertes to
been rewarded by paine or by mede, but if
mercy weiue the pain: ſo than be parte, rea• dry rock, may lightly
feele nobly of matter in my leude imagina
But for my booke ſhal be of joy (as I ſaid)
and I ſo ferre ſet fro thilke place, fro whens
gladneſs ſhould come, my corde is to ſhort to
let my boket ought to catch of y• water, and
few men be abouten my corde to ech, & many
in full purpoſe been ready it ſhorter to make,
& to encloſe thenter, y• my boket of joy nothing
ſhould catch, but empty returne, my carefull
ſorrowes to encreaſe, & if I die for payne, y•
were gladneſſe at their hearts. Good Lord
ſend me water in to the cop of theſe Moun• key of Dauid would ye lock unſhyt
and he bring me in, which that childrens
tonges both openeth and cloſeth. Whoſe
e readers, amendment
of maners of ye herers, encreaſing of worſhip
among loues ſeruaunts, releuing of my hert
in to grace of my jewel, & frendſhip pleaſance
of this pearle, I am ſtered in this making, &
for nothing els: & if any good thing to mens
likyng in this ſcripture be found, thanketh ye
maiſter of grace which y• of that good and all
other is authour, & principal doer. And if any
thing be inſufficient or els miſlikyng, with y•
that y• lewdneſs of mine vnable conning, for
body in diſeaſe annoyeth the vnderſtanding
in ſoule. A diſeſely habitation leteth the wits
many thinges, and namely in ſorow. The cu
NOw (qd. Loue) truely thy words I haue
well vnderſtond. Certes me thinketh
hem right good, and me wondreth why thou
ſo lightly paſſeſt in the law. Sothly (qd. I)
my wit is leude and I am right blind and
that mater deepe, how ſhuld I then haue wae wrie ſhrew is empri• ſame law yeueth libel of departicion
bycauſe of deuorſe, both deemed & declared.
Ye ye (qd. I) I find in no law to mede & ret by him y• mainteiners of Pome bewraying of y• cone death.
Iulius Ceſar is accompted into Catons
rightwiſneſſe, for euer in trouth floriſheth his
name among ye knowers of reaſon. Perdicas
was crowned in y• heritage of Alexander the
great, for telling of a priuy hate y• king Por•
maintaineſt law of kind, & therefore diſeaſe
haſt ſuffred in y• law, reward is worthy to be
rewarded and ordayned, & apertly thy mede
might thou chalenge. Certes (qd. I) this
haue I well lerned, & euer henceforward I
ſhal draw me thereafter in one hed of will to
abide this law, both maintain & kepe, and ſo
hope I beſt entre in to your grace, well deſert is good ſeruice?
Of you wold I here this queſtion declared.
I ſhall ſay thee (qd. ſhe) in a few words, reſo• lefull
deſires in his heart, & ſee toforne to wt end he
deſerueth, for many times he y• loketh not af• he do good, next
yt he do by his election in his own hert, & the
third, that he do godly withouten any ſure firſt wercher, which in good works
wrought you to proceed, & right ſo your werks
mouen in to vertue of y• laſt end, & right in y•
firſt working were nat, no man ſhould in y• ſet end,
and ſen their goodneſſe cloſed, ye ſhould no
more retch wt ye wrought but ye ginning gan
with good, and there ſhall it ceafe in the laſt
end, if it be well conſidred. Wherfore y• midle,
if other ways it draw then accordaunt to
thends, there ſtinteth the courſe of good, and
another manner courſe entreth, & ſo it is a
party by him ſelue, & euery part be not accor• is wrought
& be nat good, is nat accordaunt to thendes of
his all hole, it is foul, and ought to be with• thank of goodnes
els in nought he deſerueth: For right as all
your beyng, come from the greateſt good, in
whom all goodneſs is cloſed. Right ſo your
ends been direct to y• ſame good. * Ariſtotel de• end & good been one, & conuerti• in wil doth away
good, & he y• loketh not to thend loketh not to
good, but he y• doth good and doth not goodly,
draweth away thy direction of the end, not
goodly, muſt needs be bad. Lo bad is nothing
els, but abſence or negatiue of good, as dark• contrary of thend that is
good to haue. How (qd. I) may any good deed
be done, but if goodly it helpe. Yes (qd. Loue)
the Deuill doth many good deeds, but good• con• faileth,
thend which y• wel ſhould reward, muſt needs
faile. Clerkes ſaine, no man but willing is
bleſſed, a good deed y• he hath done is not done
of free choyſe willing, without which bliſſed•
good end, ſo then to good ſeruice longeth good
deed goodly done, thorow free choiſe in heart.
Truely (qd. I) this haue I well vnderſtand.
Well (qd. ſhe) euery thing thus done ſuffi• is to ſay, rightwiſet
me liketh: She is then holden as me thinketh
to reward thentent of my good will. Goddes
forbode els (qd. Loue) no wight meneth other• him liketh by Gods proper purueyt well declared to my leud
vnderſtanding, for neceſſary & neceſſite ben
words of mokel intencion, cloſing (as to ſay)
ſo mote it be needs, & otherwiſe may it nat be•
one tied by bond of Gods preordinaunce:
Then do he neuer ſo well it were by needful
compulcion of thilk bond & not by free choiſe,
whereby nothing he deſireth, & do he neuer ſo
yuell it were not man for to wite, but onelich
to him that ſoch thing ordained hem to don.
Wherfore he ne ought for bad be puniſhed, ne
for no good deed be rewarded, but of neceſſite
of rightwiſnes was therefore free choice of
arbitrement, put in mans proper diſpoſition:
truely if it were otherwiſe, it contraried Gods
charity, y• badneſs & goodneſs, rewardeth aft ben done, be our free
choice comen nothing of neceſſity, but onely
by wil: how may this ſtand togider? and ſo
me thinketh truely, y• free choice fully repug
THen gan loue nigh me neere, & with a
noble countenance of viſage & limmes,
dreſſed her nighe my ſittyng place. Take
forth (qd. ſhe) thy penne, and redily write
theſe words, for if God woll, I ſhal hem ſo
enforme to thee, that thy leudneſs, which I
haue vnderſtand in y• matter, ſhall openly be
clered, & thy ſight in full loking therein amen• Gods preſcience, re• they ſhould accord in onehed
of ſoth to vnderſtanding. Ye (qd. I) forſoth
ſo I it conceiue. Well (qd. ſhe) if thilke imt impoſſibility (qd. I.)
So (qd. ſhe) I ſhall. Now I ſuppoſe that they
mowe ſtande togyther, preſcience of God,
whom followeth neceſſity of things coming,
& liberty of arbitrement, through which thou
beleeueſt many thyngs, to be without neceſ• caſe, and the poſſibility of thilk that thou
wendeſt had been impoſſible, wherfore the ree will of louing, and
if no loue to be defended from the will of lo
Now (qd. ſhe) thou ſhalt well vnderſtand
that often we ſain thing, through neceſſity,
to be that by no ſtrength, to be neither is cot thing ſhall be: none
other thing ſignifieth this neceſſity, but one• ſame to ſay, loue to be paſſed,
and loue paſſed to be paſſed, or loue preſent to
be preſent, and loue to be preſent; or els loue to
be comming, and loue comming to be com• it ſhall not
be preſent: but thy loue preſent, which to her
Margarite thee hath bound, needfull is to be
preſent. Truly ſome doing of action, not by net it ſhall not be, altho it were com• Sun. If therefore with neceſ
Now then, when we ſaine, that God be• he will, no more in ma• he woll. In this maner it is ſooth, that
thorow neceſſity is mans werke in louing,
that he woll do, altho he woll it not with ne• he
doth it is needful to be done. But if a man
do ſin, it is nothing els but to will, yt he ſhould
not: right ſo ſin of will is not to be manner
necſſary done, no more than will is neceſſary.
Neuer y• later, this is ſooth, if a man woll ſin,
it is neceſſary him to ſin, but though thilk
neceſſity, nothing is conſtrained ne defended
in the will, right ſo thilk thing that free will
The werke forſooth of will, to whom it is yeue, that it be that he hath in will, and that he woll not, voluntary of ſpontany it is, for by ſpontany will it is do, that is to ſay, with good will, not conſtrained: then by will not conſtrained, it is conſtrained to be, and that is it may not together be. If this neceſſity maketh liberty of will, which that aforn they weren, they might haue been eſchued and ſhunned: God then, which that knoweth all truth, and nothing but truth, all theſe things, as they arn ſpontany, or neceſſary ſight, and as he ſeeth, ſo they ben: and ſo with theſe things well conſidered, it is open at the full, that without all manner repugnance, God beforn wote all manner things ben done by free will, which aforn they weren, might haue been neuer they ſhould be, and yet been they thorow a manner neceſſity, from free will diſcendeth.
Hereby may (qd. ſhe) lightly ben know, that
not all things to be is of neceſſity, though
God haue hem in his preſcience, for ſome
things to be, is of liberty of will: and to make
thee to haue full knowing of Gods beforne
weting, hear me (qd. ſhe) what I ſhall ſay.
Blithly lady (qd. I) me liſt this matter entiret in heauen is Gods being, although
he be ouer all by power, yet there is abiding
of diuine perſon, in which heauen is euerlaſt
A Marchaunt that for ones leſing in the
Sea, no more to auenture thinketh, he ſhall
neuer with auenture come to richeſs: ſo oft
muſt men on the Oke ſmite, till the happy
dent haue entred, which with the Okes own
ſway maketh it to come all at ones. So oft
falleth the lethy water on the hard rock, till
it haue through pierced it. The euen draught
of the Wier drawer maketh the wier to ben
euen, & ſupple werching, and if he ſtinted in
his draught, the wier breaketh aſunder. Eue• were naked
of loue, and of thy ſelf none haue mightſt, it
is not to put to thine own perſon, ſithen thy
loue came through thy Margarite pearle,
Ergo ſhe was yeuer of the loue, although
thou it vſe, and there ſent ſhe thee grace, thy
ſeruice to begin. She is worthy the thank
of this grace, for ſhe was the yeuer.
All the thoughts, buſie doings, and plea
Thus thy ginning and ending is but grace
alone, and in thy good deſeruing, thy debt
thou acquiteſt: without grace is nothing
worth, whatſoeuer thou werch. Thank thy
Margarite of her great grace, that hitherto
thee hath guided, and pray her of continu
Tho found I fully all theſe matters per
Alſo furthermore, I found of perdurable let• matter that ſhould
it forth bring, the matter him faileth: why?
He may thereof haue no knowing, till when
grace put it in his heart. Thus willing by
himſelf, may he it not haue, and not willing
may he it not haue. Parde euery conceit of
euery reaſonable creature, otherwiſe will not
grant: will in affirmatife with not willing
by no way mow accord. And although this
louing woll come in mine hert by freeneſſe of
arbitrement, as in this book fully is ſhewed,
yet owe I not therfore as much allow my free
will, as grace of that Margarite, to me lean• leſeth
his grace. In which thing therefore, vpon the
nobley of grace I mote truſten, and my buſie
cure ſet thilke grace to keep, that my free
will otherwiſe than by reaſon it ſhould werch,
cauſe not my grace to void: for thus muſt I
both look to free will and to grace. For right
as naturel vſage in engendering of children
may not ben without father, ne alſo but with
the mother, for neither father ne mother in
begetting may it lack: right ſo grace and free
will accorden, and without hem both maye
not louing, will in no party been getten. But
yet is not free will, in getting of that thing,
ſo mokell thank worthy as is grace, ne in the
keeping therof ſo much thank deſerueth, and
yet in getting and keeping both done they ac• to willing
loue not accorden, and ſtrength will aduerſi• it like.
For what thing that falleth to man, in help
Wherefore I ſay, euery wight hauing this
rightwiſeneſſe, rightfull is, and yet therefore
I feel not in my conſcience, that to all right• bliſſe euerlaſting, but to hem
that been rightful, withouten any vnrighte law of kind, and if
that otherwhile me weneth harm of this pre
Grace at the ginning ordained thilke will
in goodneſſe, euer to haue endured, and neuer
to badneſſe haue aſſented: men ſhould not
beleeue, that God thilk will maked to be vici
Although Angels bliſs be much more, for• ſame, * When inſtrument of will loſt
hath rightfulnes, in no manner but by grace
may he ayen retourn rightfulneſſe to wiln.
For ſithen nothing but rightfulneſſe alone
ſhould he wiln, what y• euer he wilneth with
KNowne may it well ben now, of theſe
thinges toforne declared, that man
hath not alway thilke rightfulneſſe, which
by duty of right euermore hauen he ſhould,
and by no waye by himſelfe may he it get
ne keepe, and after he it hath, if he it leſe,
recouer ſhall he it neuer, without eſpeciall
grace: wherefore the commune ſentence
of the people in opinion, that euery thing
after deſtiny is ruled, falſe & wicked is to be• lady of loue
hath me learned, who ſo aright in this book
looketh. And vtterly it is to weren, that pre• day of dome ſhull
they endleſſe dwell, & they ſhull ben learned,
that in kingdom with ſo mokell affect of loue
and of grace, y• the leaſt joy ſhall of the grea• full, and
vſe when his time asketh, wiſely to been got loue holdeth this knot, & amaiſtreth
hem to be bound. Theſe things, as a ring, in
circuit of wreth ben knit in thy ſoule witht knot.
NOw truly lady, I haue my ground well
vnderſtonde, but what thing is thilke
ſpire yt into a tree ſhuld wexe: Expoune me
yt thyng, what ye thereof mean. That ſhall
I (qd. ſhe) blithly, & take good heed to ye words
I thee rede. Continuaunce in thy good ſere ſpire, whych if it be well kept
and gouerned, ſhal ſo hugely ſpring, till the
fruit of grace is plenteouſly out ſprongen:
For although thy will be good, yet may not
therfore thilk bliſſe deſired, haſtely on thee diſt
ben your ſeruaunts. I haue learned oft toforn
this time, yt in euery louers hert great plenty
of jelouſies greeues ben ſow, wherefore me
thinketh ye ne ought in no manner accompt
thilk thing among theſe other welked winers
& venomous ſerpents, as enuy, miſtruſt, & euil
ſpeech. O fool (qd. ſhe) miſtruſt with foly, with
euil wil medled, engendreth ye welked padde.
Truly if they were deſtroyed, jelouſie vndone
were for euer, & yet ſome manner of jelouſie
I wot well is euer redy in all the hearts of
my trew ſeruaunts, as thus: to be jealous
ouer himſelf, leaſt he be cauſe of his own dit of all
thy good ſeruice ſhe counteth nat a creſſe.
Theſe jealouſies in heart for acceptable quat grace and bliſſe of my ſeruice be
on him diſcended at will. And he yt then jeloue mean
of theſe things owen to be vſed. * Soothly,
withouten cauſeful euidence, miſtruſt in jeat is wiſe, & with euil will nat
be acomered, can abide wel his time, til grace
& bliſs of his ſeruice following haue him ſo
mokel eaſed, as his abiding tofore hand hath
him diſeaſed. Certes lady (qd. I tho) of noe tother? &
anone as ye one commeth, why receiueth not
ye other? For euery thing yt is out of his kindly
place, by full appetite, euer commeth thidere kindly ſtede of
this bliſs, is in ſuch will medled to vnbide, &
needs in yt it ſhould haue his kindely being.
Wherfore me thinketh anon as yt wil to be
ſhewed, & kind him profereth, thilk bliſs ſhuld
him hie thilk will to receiue, or els kind of
goodnes worchen not in hem as they ſhuld.
Lo, be the ſun neuer ſo ferre, euer it hath his
kind werching in earth: great weight on hye
on loft caried, ſtinteth neuer till it come to
this reſting place. Waters to ye ſeaward euer
ben they drawing: thing yt is light, blithely
will not ſink, but euer aſcendeth, and upward
draweth. Thus kind in euery thing his kindly
courſe & his being place ſheweth: Wherfore
be kind on this good will, anone as it were
ſprong, this bliſſe ſhould thereon diſcend, her
kind would they dwelleden togider, & ſo haue
ye ſaid your ſelf. Certes (qd. ſhe) thine heart
ſitteth wonder ſore this bliſs for to haue, thine
heart is ſore agreeued yt it tarrieth ſo long,
and if thou durſteſt, as me thinketh by thine
words, this bliſſe wouldeſt thou blame. But
yet I ſay, thilke bliſſe is kindly good, and his
kindly place in ye will to vnbide. Neuer ye la• to mens liuelode neceſſarily ſeruen with• we haue in meaning of du• gold in this earth. Good will
accordant to reaſon, with no manner proper
VEry trouth (qd. ſhe) haſt thou now cont wiſe this tree toforn this haue
I declared, as in ground & in ſtock of wexing.
Firſt ye ground ſhould be thy free will full in
thine heart, and the ſtock (as I ſaid) ſhould be
continuance in good ſeruice, by long time in
trauail, till it were in greatneſſe right well
woxen. And when this tree ſuch greatneſſe
hath caught, as I haue reherſed, y• branches
then yt ye fruit ſhould foorth bring, ſpeech muſt
they be needs in voice of prayer, in complai• with
heart of hardines dare complain to his lady,
what cares that he ſuffreth, by hope of mer• I bren in ſorrowt fruit ſhould out of him
ſpring, els ye fruit for yt year men halt deliuee ground neuer ſo good. And tho the
ſtock be mighty at ye full, & the branches ſeer,
& no burions ſhew, & Farewel the gardiner,
he may pipe with an yuy leaf, his fruit is fai• ſtretchen into ſhame, for then might thou
not ſpeed by no way y• I can eſpy. * Vertue
woll not ſuffer villanye out of himſelfe to
ſpring. Thy words may not be queint, ne of
ſubtel manner vnderſtanding. Freel witted
people ſuppoſen in ſuch poeſies to be beguilthout clere vnderſtanding of
ſentence, ſaith Ariſtotle, right nought printt ſhe mean• liſt nat to ſpeak, but ſtilly his dit wonder is it tho he neuer come
to his bliſſe? * Who y• trauaileth vnwiſt, and
coueiteth thing vnknow, vnweting he ſhall
be quited, and with vnknow thing rewarded.
Good lady (qd. I then) it hath oft be ſeen, that
weathers and ſtorms ſo hugely haue fall in
burioning time, & by pert dureſſe han beaten
off the ſprings ſo clean, wherethrough y• fruit
of thilk year hath failed. It is a great grace
when burions han good wethers, their fruits
foorth to bring. Alas then after ſuch ſtorms
how hard is it to auoid, till eft wedring and
years han maked her circuit cours all about,
ere any fruit be able to be taſted, he is ſhent
for ſhame, y• foul is rebuked of his ſpeech. He
that is in fire brenning, ſore ſmarteth for diſ• water come
y• ſhould y• fire quench. * While men gon af• of tho fruits
may no man ataſt, for pure bitterneſſe in fa• tree waſten
away togider, tho mokell buſie occupation
haue be ſpent to bring it ſo fer forth y• it was
able to ſpring. A litle ſpeech hath maked, that
all this labour is in idle. I not (qd. ſhe) wherof
it ſerueth thy queſtion to aſſoil, me thinketh
thee now duller in wits, than when I with
thee firſt met, although a man be leaud, comt place been preſent euerlaſting
without any meuing, wherefore to God all
thing is as now: and though a thing be nat
in kindly nature of things as yet, and if it
ſhould be hereafter, yet euermore we ſhull ſay
God it maketh be time preſent, & now for no
future ne preterit in him may be found.
Wherefore his weting & his before weting, is
all one in vnderſtanding. Then if weting &
before weting of God putteth in neceſſity to
all things which he wote or before wote ne
thing after eternity, or els after any time he
woll or doth of liberty, but all of neceſſity,
which thing if thou wene it be ayenſt reaſon,
nat thorow neceſſity, to be or nat to be, all
thing y• God wote or before wote, to be or nat
to be, & yet nothing defendeth any thing to
be wiſt, or to be before wiſt of him in our wils
or our doings to be done, or els coming to be
for free arbitrement. When thou haſt theſe
declarations well vnderſtand, then ſhalt thou
find it reaſonable at proue, & yt many things
be nat thorow neceſſity, but thorow liberty of
will, ſaue neceſſity of free will, as I tofore
ſaid: & as me thinketh all vtterly declared.
Me thinketh lady (qd. I) ſo I ſhould you nat
diſpleaſe, & euermore your reuerence to keep,
yt theſe things contrarien in any vnderſtandt haue kindly
mouing. Is there any thing yt meueth more
kindly than doth y• heuens eie, which I clepe
the Sun. Soothly (qd. I) me ſemeth it moſt
kindly to moue. Thou ſaiſt ſoth (qd. ſhe.) Then
if thou look to the Sun, in what part he be
vnder heauen, euermore be heigheth him in
mouing fro thilk place, and heigheth meuing
• place he heigheth, from
which he is chaunged and withdraw. But
now in theſe things, after diuerſity of reaſon,
reuers in one thing may be ſey without ree ſame wiſe, with• commeth out of
free will, as I haue ſaid. Tho liſt me a little to
ſpeak, & gan ſtint my pen of my writing, &
ſaid in this wiſe. Truly lady, as me thinketh,
I can alleadge authorities great y• contrae no man may
ſhort ne length y• day, ordayned of his doyng,
altho ſomtime to vs it ſemeth ſome man to
do a thyng of free will, wherethrough his
death he henteth. Nay forſooth (qd. ſhe) it is
nothing ayenſt my ſaying, for God is nat be• Poul ye Apoſtle ſayeth of hem y• to• firſt begeten, y• is to ſay, here
amongs many brethren, & whom he hath pre• euerlaſting preſent, where is nei• there is
euer preſent. Yet emongs you men, ere it be
in your preſence, it is moouable through liber• euerlaſt• o• preſent euerlaſting dureth in one head, with• planets,
and ouerwhelmings of y• Sun in dayes and
nights, with a new ginning of his circuit aft is to ſayn, one yere to follow
another. Theſe maken your tranſitory times,
with chaunging of liues, & mutation of peoe euerlaſting preſent, than to haue
ſpoke in preterit voice of paſſed vnderſtand• euerlaſte God ben, & all togider in the e• been in diuers times, & in diuers
places temporell, without poſteriority or prit Poule ſhould haue ſpoke thilke
foreſaid ſentence be time preſent, and y• moſt
ſhuld haue ben accordant to ye euerlaſting pre• words, by ſignification
of time paſſed, to ſhew fully y• thilke words
were not put for temporell ſignification, for
all thilk time were not thilke Saints tempo• Poul vſed tho words of paſſed ſigt here beforne ben paſſed,
vtterly be immouable, ilike to y• euerlaſting
preſence. As thilke that been, there neuer
mowe not been preſent, ſo things of time
paſſed, ne mowe in no wiſe not been paſſed:
but all things in you temporall, preſence y•
paſſen in a little while, ſhullen been not pre• ſomtime
they ſhould be. As how (qd. I) for yet muſt I
be lerned by ſome enſample. Of loue (qd. ſhe)
woll I now enſample make, ſithen I know
the head knot in y• yelke. Lo, ſomtime thou
And for to make thee know vtterly, that
things been otherwiſe in the euerlaſting pre• ſomething
ne may be in time temporel mouing, that in
etern is immouable. Forſoth it is no more
contrary ne reuers, for to be mouable in time
temporell, & mouable in eternity, than not to
be in any time, & to be alway in eternity, and
haue to be, or els to come in time temporell,
and not haue be, ne nought comming to be
in eternity. Yet neuer the latter, I ſay not
ſame thyng to be neuer in tyme temporell, y•
euer is eternity, but all onely in ſome time
not to be. For I ſay not thy loue to morne
in no time to be, but to day alone I deny ne
it to be, and yet neuer the later, it is alway
in eternity.
Alſo (qd. I) it ſeemeth to me, y• commyng
thyng, or els paſſed, here in your temporall
time to be, in eternity euer now, and preſent
oweth not to be demed, & yet followeth not
thilke thyng, that was, or els ſhall be, in no
manner thereto been paſſed, or els comming:
then vtterly ſhull we deny, for there without
reaſing, it is in his preſent manner. O (qd. ſhe)
mine own diſciple, now ginneſt thou able to
haue the name of my ſeruaunt, Thy wit is
clered, away is now errour of cloud in vn
Thou haſt (qd. ſhe) in a few words well and
clerely concluded mokell of my matter. And
right as there is no reuers, ne contrariouſty
in tho things, right ſo withouten any repug• it is, but without ceſſing, for right naught
is there after time, y• ſame is there euerlaſt• temporallich ſometime nis, & toforne it
be, it may not be, as I haue ſaid. Now ſothly
(qd. I) this haue I well vnderſtand, ſo y• now
me thinketh, that preſcience of God, and free
arbitrement, withouten any repugnaunce
accorden, and that maketh the ſtrength of
eternity, which encloſeth by preſence, during
all times, and all things that been, han been,
and ſhull been in any time.
I would now (qd. I) a little vnderſtand,
ſithen y• all thing thus beforne wote, whether
thilke weting bee of tho things, or els thilke
things to been of Gods weting, & ſo of God
nothing is: and if euery thing be through
Gods weting, and therof take his being, then
ſhould GOD be maker and authour of bad
werks, and ſo he ſhould not rightfully puniſh
euill doings of mankind. (Qd. Loue) I ſhall
tell thee this leſſon to learne, mine own true
ſeruaunt, the noble Phyloſophical Poete, in
Engliſh, which euermore him buſieth and tra• later, yet may lightly thyne
vnderſtanding ſomedele been learned, if thou
haue knowyng of theſe toforne ſaid thynges,
with that thou haue vnderſtandyng, of two
the laſt chapiters of this ſecond book, that is
to ſay, good to be ſome thing, & bad to want
all manner being, for bad is nothyng els, but
abſence of good, and y• God in good maketh
that good deeds been good, in euill he maketh
that they ben but naught, y• they been bad:
for to nothyng is badneſſe to be. I haue (qd.
I tho) ynough knowing therein, me needeth
of other things to hear, that is to ſay, how I
ſhal come to my bliſſe ſo long deſired.
IN this matter toforne declared (qd. Loue)
I haue well ſhewed, that euery man hath
free arbitrement of thynges in his power
to do or undo what him liketh. Out of
this ground muſt come the Spire, that
by proceſſe of time ſhall in greatneſſe ſprede
to haue braunches and bloſſomes, of wax
Now Lady (qd. I) that tree to ſette, faine
would I learn. So thou ſhalt (qd. ſhe) ere thou
depart hence. The firſt thyng, thou muſt ſet
thy werke on ground ſiker and good, accor• ſoure Dock. Wherfore if thou
deſire this blyſs in parfite joy, thou muſt ſet
thy purpoſe there vertue followeth, & not to
look after the bodily goods, as I ſayed when
thou were writyng in thy ſecond book. And
for thou haſt ſet thy ſelf in ſo noble a place, &
vtterly lowed in thyne heart the miſgoyng of
thy firſt purpoſe, this ſetteles is y• eaſier to
ſpryng, & the more lighter thy ſoul in grace
to be liſſed. And truely, thy deſire, that is to
ſay, thy will, algates mote ben ſtedfaſt in this
matter, without any chaungyng, for if it be
ſtedfaſt, no man may it void. Yes parde (qd.
I) my will may been tourned by friends, and
diſeaſe of manace, and threatening in leſing
of my life, and of my limmes, and in many
• thou loueſt &
haſt loued, & yet ſhalt louen this Margarite
pearle, and in thy will thou thinkeſt to hold
it. Then is thy will knitte in loue, not to
chaunge for no new luſt beſide: This wyll
teacheth thine hert from all manner varying.
But then, although thou be threatened in
death, or els in other wiſe, yet is it in thyne
arbitrement to chuſe, thy loue to voyd, or els
to hold: & thilk arbitrement is in a maner a
judgement, between deſire and thy heart.
And if thou deeme to loue, thy good will fay• time out of your mind: as
if it come in your thought thilke thing to re• will to abide. Vſe of this inſtrument for• fruit
y• I long haue deſired, it dooth me good the
ſauour to ſmell. Chriſt now to thee I cry of
mercy and of grace, and graunt of thy good• ſooth: for enuy is euer ready all inno• good ſpeech
enuy euermore hinder. But no man wene this
werke be ſufficiently maked, for Gods werke
paſſeth mans, no mans wit to parfite werke
may by no way puruay the end: how ſhould
I then, ſo leaude, aught wene of perfection a
This Treatiſe is taken out of S. Origen, wherein Mary Magdalen lamenteth the Cruel Death of her Saviour Chriſt.
This Book, drawn for the moſt part out of the Proverbs of Solomon, is a warning to take heed of the deceitful company of Women.
This Letter was made by Thomas Occleve of the
Office of the privy Seale, Chaucers Scholar;
and was by him termed, A Treatiſe of the Con
Electus Chriſti, pie rex Henrici fuiſti Qui bene veniſti, cum propria regna petiſti Tu mala viciſtique bonis bona reſtituiſti Et populo triſti, nova gaudia contribuiſti Eſt mihi ſpes lata, quod adhuc per te renovata Succedent fata, veteri probitare beata Eſt tibi nam grata, gratia ſponte data. Henrici quarti, primus regni fuit annus Quo mihi defecit viſus ad acta mea, Omnia tempus habent finem natura miniſtrat Quem virtute ſua frangere nemo poteſt, Ultra poſſe nihil quamvis mihi velle remanſit Amplius ut ſcribam non mihi poſſe manet, Dum potui ſcripſi, ſed nunc quia curva ſenectus, Turbavit ſenſus ſcripta relinquo ſcholis, Scribat qui veniet poſt me diſcretior alter. Ammodo namque manus & mea penna ſilent, Hoc tamen in fine verborum queſo meorum, Proſpera quod ſtatuat regna futura Deus.
Chaucer dreameth that he heareth the Cuckow and the Nightingale contend for excellency in ſinging.
In the written Copies the Title hereof is thus:
Here followeth a moral Ballad to the Prince,
the Duke of Clarence, the Duke of Bedford,
the Duke of Glouceſter, the Kings Sons; by
Henry Scogan, at a Supper among the Mer
A Ballad made by Chaucer, teaching what is gen
Of Freers I haue told before, In a making of a Crede, And yet I could tell worſe and more, But men would werrien it to rede.
IAck Vpland make my mone to very God,
and to all true in Chriſt, that antichriſt
and his diſciples (by colour of holines)
walking and deceiuing Chriſts Church
by many falſe figures, wherethrough (by an
But the fellieſt folke that euer Antichriſt
found, been laſt brought into the church, and
in a wonder wiſe, for they been of diuerſe ſects
of antichriſt, ſown of diuerſe countries & kind
And therefore (freer) if thine order and rules been grounded on Goddis law, tell thou me Iack Vpland, that I aske of thee, and if thou be or thinkeſt to be on Chriſtes ſide, keepe thy paciens.
SAnt Paule teacheth, That all our deedes
ſhould be do in charitie, & els it is nought
worth, but diſpleaſing to God and harme to
1 Freer, how many orders be in earth, and
which is the perfecteſt order? Of what or
2 Approoueth Chriſt any more religions
than one, That S. Iames ſpeaketh of? If
he approueth no more, why haſt thou left
his rule, and takeſt another? Why is a
freer apoſtata that leueth his order, and ta
3 Why be ye wedded faſter to your ha
4 Maketh your habit you men of religion
or no? If it doe, then euer as it weareth,
your religion weareth, and after that your
habit is better, your religion is better, and
when ye haue liggen it beſide, then lig ye
your religion beſide you, and been apoſta
What betokeneth your great hood, your ſcaplerie, your knotted girdle, and your wide cope?
5 Why uſe ye all one colour, more than
other chriſtian men do? What betokeneth
that ye been clothed all in one manner clo
If ye ſay it betokeneth loue and charitie, certes then ye be oft hypocrites, when any of you hateth another, and in that that ye wol be ſaid holy by your clothing.
Why may not a freer weare clothing of another ſect of freers, ſith holineſſe ſtondeth not in the cloths?
6 Why hold ye ſilence in one houſe more than another, ſith men ought ouer all to ſpeake the good and leaue the euil?
Why eat you fleſh in one houſe more than in another, if your rule and your order be perfect, and the patron that made it?
7 Why get ye your diſpenſations to haue it more eaſie? Certes, either it ſeemeth that ye be vnperfect, or he that made it, ſo hard, that ye may not hold it. And ſiker, if ye hold not the rule of your patrons, ye be not then her freers, and ſo ye lie vpon your ſelues.
8 Why make you as dede men, when yee be profeſſed, and yet ye be not dede, but more quicke beggars than you were before? and it ſeemeth euil a dede man to go about and beg.
9 Why will ye not ſuffer your nouiſes hear
your councels in your chapter houſe, ere
that they haue ben profeſſed, if your coun
10 Why make yee you ſo coſtly houſes to dwell in? ſith Chriſt did not ſo, and dede men ſhould haue but graues, as falleth it to dede men, and yet ye haue more courts than many lords of England: for ye now wenden through the realme, and ech night will lig in your own courts, and ſo mow but right few lords doe.
11 Why heire you to ferme your limitors,
giuing therefore each yeare a certain rent,
and will not ſuffer one in anothers limitati
Why be ye not vnder your biſhops viſita
Why aske ye no letters of bretherheads of other mens praiers, as ye deſire that other men ſhould aske letters of you?
If your letters be good, why grant ye them not generally to all manner of men for the more charitie?
12 Mowe ye make any man more perfect brether for your prayers, than God hath by our beleeue? by our baptiſme and his owne grant? if ye mow, certes then ye be aboue God.
Why make ye men beleeue that your gol
13 Why make ye men beleeue, that he that
is buried in your habit, ſhall neuer come in
hell, and ye weet not of your ſelfe whether
ye ſhall to hell or no? and if this were ſooth,
ye ſhould ſell your high houſes to make ma
14 Why ſteal ye mens children for to make hem of your ſect, ſith that theft is againſt Gods heſts, and ſith your ſect is not perfect? yee know not whether the rule that ye bind him to, be beſt for him or worſt.
15 Why vnderneme ye not your brethren for their treſpaſſe after the law of the Goſpel, ſith that vnderneming is the beſt that may be? but ye put them in priſon oft, when they do after Gods law, and by S. Auguſtines rule: If any doe amiſſe, and would not amend him, ye ſhould put him from you.
16 Why coueit ye ſhrift, and burying of
other mens pariſhens, and none other ſa
Why ſay ye not the goſpel in houſes of bedred men, as ye do in rich mens, that mow goe to church and heare the goſpell?
Why couet you not to bury poor folk among you? ſith that they been moſt holy, (as ye ſaine that ye been for your pouerty?)
17 Why will ye not be at her diriges as
ye haue been at rich mens? ſith God praiſ
What is thy prayer worth? ſith thou wilt take therefore, for all chapmen yee need to bee moſt wiſe for dread of ſimony.
What cauſe haſt thou, that thou wilt not preach the goſpel, as God ſaith that thou ſhouldſt? ſith it is the beſt lore and alſo our beleeue.
VVhy be ye euill apaid that ſecular prieſtes ſhould preach the goſpell? ſith God himſelfe hath bodden hem.
18 VVhy hate ye the goſpell to be preachIn principio, than with all
the rules that euer your patrones made,
and in this minſtrels been better than ye,
for they contrarien not to the mirths that
they maken, but ye contrarien the goſpell
both in word and deed.
19 Freer, when thou receiueſt a peny for
to ſay a maſſe, whether ſelleſt thou Gods bo
20 VVhy writeſt thou hir names in thy
tables that yeueth thee mony? ſith God
knoweth all thing: for it ſemeth by thy wri
VVhy beareſt thou God in hand and ſlan
Freer, after what lawe ruleſt thou thee? where findeſt thou in Gods lawe that thou ſhouldeſt thus beg?
21 VVhat maner men needeth for to beg?
For whom oweth ſuch men to beg?
VVhy beggeſt thou ſo for thy brethren?
If thou ſaiſt, for they haue need, then thou
doſt it for the more perfection, or els for the
leaſt, or els for the meane. If it be the moſt
perfection of all, then ſhould all thy brethren
do ſo, and then no man needed to beg but for
himſelf, for ſo ſhould no man beg but him
needed. And if it be the leaſt perfection, why
loueſt thou then other men more than thy
ſelfe? For ſo thou art not well in charity, ſith
thou ſhouldeſt ſeek the more perfection after
thy power, liuing thy ſelf moſt after God.
And thus leauing that imperfection, thou
ſhouldſt not ſo beg for them. And if it is a
good mean thus to beg as thou doſt, then
ſhould no man do ſo, but they been in this
good mean, and yet ſuch a mean granted to
you may neuer be grounded on Gods law,
for then both lerid and leaud that been in
mean degree of this world, ſhould go about
and beg as ye do. And if all ſhould do ſo, cer
VVhy procureſt thou men to yeue thee their almes, and ſaiſt it is ſo needful, and thou wilt not thy ſelfe win thee that meed?
22 VVhy wilt thou not beg for poor bedred
men, that been poorer than any of your ſect,
that liggen and mow not go about to help
himſelfes, ſith we be all brethren in God, and
that bretherhed paſſeth any other that ye or
any man could make, and where moſt need
were, there were moſt perfection, either els
ye hold them not your pure brethren, but
worſe, but then ye be vnperfect in your beg
VVhy make ye ſo many maiſters among you, ſith it is againſt the teaching of Chriſt and his Apoſtles?
23 VVhoſe been all your rich courts that
ye han, and all your rich jewels? ſith ye ſeen
that ye han nought ne in proper ne in come help of their ſouls, as ye make
children to beg ye might haue been rich heirs.
Why make ye not your feaſts to poor men, and yeueth hem yefts, as ye done to the rich? ſith poor men han more need than the rich?
What betokeneth that ye goe tweine and tweine togither? if ye be out of charity, ye accord not in ſoule.
Why beg ye and take ſalaries therto more than other prieſts? ſith he that moſt taketh, moſt charge hath.
25 Why will ye not touch no coined money with the croſſe, ne with the kings head, as ye done other jewels both of gold and ſiluer? certes if ye deſpiſe the croſſe or the kings head, then ye be worthy to be deſpiſed of God and the king: and ſith ye will receiue mony in your hearts, and not with your hands, and it ſeemeth that yee hold more holineſſe in your hands than in your hearts, and then be falſe to God.
26 Why haue ye exempt you from our kings laws, and viſiting of our biſhops more than other chriſten men that liuen in this realm, if ye be not guiltie of traitorie to our realme, or treſpaſſers to your biſhops? But ye will have the kings laws for the treſpaſſe doe to you, and ye will haue power of other biſhops more than other prieſts, and alſo haue leaue to priſon your brethren as lords in your courts more than other folks han that ben the kings leegemen.
27 Why ſhall ſome ſect of you freers pay
eche a yere a certaine to her generall prouinNon furtum facies.
28 Why be ye ſo hardie to grant by letters
of fraternitie to men and women, that they
ſhall haue part and merite of all your good
deeds, and ye weten neuer whether God be
apayed with your deeds becauſe of your ſin?
Alſo yee witten neuer whether that man or
woman be in ſtate to be ſaved or damned,
then ſhall he haue no merit in heauen for his
owne deeds ne for none other mans. And all
were it ſo, that he ſhold haue part of your
good deeds: yet ſhould he haue no more than
God would giue him after that he were wor
29 What betokeneth that yee haue or
30 Freer, what charity is this, to ouer
31 Freer, what charitie is this, to beguile
children or they commen to diſcretion, and
bind hem to your orders, ye ben not ground
32 Freer, what charitie is this, to make
ſo many freers in euery country to the charge
of the people? ſith parſons and vicars alone,
ye ſecular prieſts alone, ye monkes and cane prieſts office.
And to adde more than ynough, is a foule
errour, and great charge to the people, and
this openly againſt Gods will, that ordain
33 Freer, what charity is this, to the people
to lie, and ſay that ye follow Chriſt in pouer
34 Freer, what charitie is this, to gather
vp the books of holy write, and put hem in
treſorie, and ſo empriſon them from ſecular
prieſts and curats, and by this cautel let
hem to preach the goſpel freely to the people
without worldly meed, and alſo to defame
good prieſts of hereſie, and lien on hem open
36 Freer, what charity is this, to preaſe
vpon a rich man, and to intice him to bee
buried among you from his pariſh church,
and to ſuch rich men giue letters of frater
37 Freer, what charity is this, to be con
38 Freer, what charity is this, to ſain that
who ſo liueth after your order, liueth moſt
perfectly, and next followeth the ſtate of
Apoſtles in pouerty and penance, and yet
the wiſeſt and greateſt clerks of you wend
or ſend, or procure to the court of Rome
to be made cardinals or biſhops of the popes
chaplens, and to be aſſoiled of the vow of
pouerty and obedience to your miniſters, in
the which (as ye ſain) ſtandeth moſt perfec
Why name ye more the patron of your
order in your Confiteor when ye begin maſſe,
than other Saints, Apoſtles, or Martyrs,
that holy church hold more glorious than
hem, and clepe hem your patrons and your
auowries?
Freer, whether was S. Francis in ma
Freer, which of the foure orders of fri
Freer, is there any perfecter rule of re
Freer, canſt thou any default or aſſigne in
Chriſtes rule of the goſpell (with the which
he taught all men likerly to be ſaued) if
they kept it to her ending? If thou ſay it
was too hard, then ſaieſt thou Chriſt lied;
for he ſaid of his rule: My yoke is ſoft,
and my burden light. If thou ſay Chriſtes
rule was too light, that may be aſſigned
for no default, for the better it may be kept.
If thou ſaiſt that there is no default in
Chriſtes rule of the Goſpell, ſith Chriſt
himſelf ſaith it is light and eaſie: what
need was it to patrons of freers to adde
more thereto? and ſo to make an harder
religion to ſaue freers, than was the reli
Go now foorth and fraine your clerks,
and ground ye you in Gods law, and gif
Iacke an anſwer, and when ye han aſſoil
If freers kun not or mow not excuſe hem
of theſe queſtions asked of hem, it ſeem