S.

Sooth is, he ne graunteth no pity
Without thee: for God of his goodnesse
Forgiueth none, but it like vnto thee:
He hath thee made vicaire and maistresse
Of all this world, and eke gouerneresse
Of Heauen and represseth his justise
After thine will: and therefore in witnesse
He hath thee crowned in so royal wise.

T.

Temple deuout, ther God chese his wonning,
For which these misbeleeued depriued been,
To you mine soule penitent I bring,
Receiue me, for I can no ferther fleen.
With thornis venemous, Heauen queen,
For which the erth accursed was ful sore,
I am so wounded, as ye may well seene,
That I am lost almost, it smert so sore.

V.

Virgine that art so noble of apparaile,
That leadest vs into the high toure
Of Paradise, thou me wish and counsaile,
How I may haue thy grace and thy succour:
All haue I been in filth and in errour,
Lady on that countrey thou me adjourne,
That cleaped is thine bench of fresh flour,
There as that mercy euer shall sojourne.
X.

Xpen thine sonne that in this world alight
Upon a crosse to suffer his passioun,
And suffred eke that Longeus his bart pight,
And made his herte blood renne adoun,
And all this was for my saluatioun :
And I to him am fals and eke unkind,
And yet he will not mine dampnatioun :
This thanke I you, succour of all mankind.
Y.

Ysaac was figure of his death certaine,
That so ferre forth his fader would obey,
That him ne rought nothing for to be slain :
Right so thy sonne list a lambe to dey:
Now lady full of mercy I you prey,
Sith he his mercy sured me so large,
Be not scant, for all we sing or say,
ye
That ye been fro vengeaunce aye our targe.

Z.

Zacharie you clepith the open well,
That wisht sinfull soule out of his guilt,
Therefore this lesson out I will to tell,
That nere thine tender heart, we were spilt.
Now lady bright, sith thou canst and wilt
Been to the seed of Adam merciable,
Bring vs to that paleis that is built
To penitentis, that ben to mercie able.

EXPLICIT.

CERTAIN BALLADES.

SOMETIME the world so stedfast was and stable,
That mans word was an obligatioun,
And now it is so false and deceivable,
That word and deed as in conclusioun
Is nothing like, for tourned is vp so doun
All the world, through mede and fikelnesse,
That all is lost for lack of stedfastnesse.
VOL. I.

What maketh the world to be so variable
But lust, that men haue in dissension,
For among vs a man is hold vnable,
But if he can by some collusion

Doe his neighbour wrong and oppression:
What causeth this but wilfull wretchednesse,
That all is lost for lack of stedfastnesse.

Trouth is put downe, reason is hold fable,
Vertue hath now no domination,
Pity is exiled, no man is merciable,
Through couetise is blent discretion,
The world hath made a permutation,
Fro right to wrong, fro trouth to fikelnesse,
That all is lost for lacke of stedfastnesse.
LENVOYE.

Prinee desire to be honourable,
Cherish thy folke, and hate extortion,
Suffer nothing that may be reprouable
To thine estate, done in thy region,
Shew forth the yerd of castigation,
Drede God, do law, loue trouth and worthinesse,
And wed thy folke ayen to stedfastnesse.

EXPLICIT.

GOOD COUNSAIL OF CHAUCER.

FLY fro the prease, and dwell with soothfastnesse,
Suffise vuto thy good though it be small,
For horde hath hate, and climbing tikelnesse,
Prease hath enuy, and wele is blent ouer all,
Sauour no more than thee behoue shall,
Rede well thy selfe that other folke canst rede,
And trouth thee shall deliuer, it is no drede.
Paine thee not ech crooked to redresse
In trust of her that tourneth as a ball,
Great rest staudeth in little businesse,
Beware also to spurn againe a nall,
Striue not as doth a rocke with a wall,
Deme thy selfe that demest others dede,
And trouth thee shall deliuer it is no drede.
That thee is sent receiue in buxomnesse,
The wrastling of this world asketh a fall,
Here is no home, here is but wildernesse,
Forth pilgrime, forth beast out of thy stall,
Looke vp on high, and thanke God of all,
Weiue thy lusts, and let thy ghost thee lede,
And trouth thee shall deliuer, it is no drede.

EXPLICIT.

A BALLADE

OF THE VILLAGE WITHOUT PAINTING.
PLAINTIFE TO FORTUNE.

THIS wretched worldes transmutation,
As wele and wo, now poor, and now honour,
Without order or due discretion,
Gouerned is by Fortunes errour,

But natheless the lacke of her fauour
Ne may not doe me sing, though that I die,
L'ay tout pardu, mon temps et labour,
For finally fortune I defie.

Yet is me left the sight of my reasoun,
To know friend fro foe in thy mirrour,
So much hath yet thy tourning vp and doun
Ytaught me to knowen in an hour,

D d

No man is wretched, but himselfe it wene,
Ne that hath in himselfe suffisaunce,
Why saist thou than I am to thee so kene,
That hast thy selfe out of my gouernance?
Say thus, graunt mercy of thine habundance
That thou hast lent or this, thou shalt not striue,
What wost thou yet how I thee woll auance,
And eke thou hast thy best friend aliue.

I haue thee taught deuision betweene
Friend of effect, and friend of countenaunce,
Thee needeth not the gall of an hine,
That cureth eyen darke for her pennaunce
Now seest thou clere that were in ignoraunce,
Yet holt thine anker, and yet thou maist arriue
There bounty beareth the key of my substance,
And eke thou hast thy best friend aliue.

How many haue I refused to sustene,
Sith I haue thee fostred in thy pleasaunce,
Wolt thou than make a statute on thy quene,
That I shall be aye at thine ordinaunce,
Thou born art in my reigne of variaunce,
About the whele with other must thou driue,
My lore is bet, than wicke is thy greuaunce,
And eke thou hast thy best friend aliue.

THE ANSWERE TO FORTUNE.

Thy lore I dampne, it is aduersity,
My frend maist thou not reue blind goddesse,
That I thy friends know, I thanke it thee,
Take hem againe, let hem go lie a presse,
The niggardes in keeping hir richesse,
Pronostike is, thou wolt hir toure assaile,
Wicke appetite commeth aye before sicknesse,
In general this rule may not faile.

FORTUNE.

Thou pinchest at my mutability,
For I thee lent a droppe of my richesse,
And now me liketh to withdraw me,
Why shouldest thou my royalty oppresse,
The sea may ebbe and flow more and lesse,
The welken hath might to shine, rain, and bail,
Right so must I kithe my brotilnesse,
In generall this rule may not fail

THE PLAINTIFE.

Lo, the execution of the majesty,
That all purueigheth of his rightwisenesse,
That same thing fortune clepen ye,
Ye blind beasts full of leaudnesse,
The Heauen hath property of sikernesse,
This world hath euer restlesse trauaile,
The last day is end of mine entresse,
In generall this rule may not faile.

THENUOYE OF FORTUNE.

Princes I pray you of your gentilnesse
Let not this man and me thus cry and plain,
And I shall quite you this businesse,
Aud if ye liste releue him of his pain,
Pray ye his best frende of his noblesse,
That to some better state he
may attain.

To broken been the statutes hie in Heauen,
That create were eternally tendure,
Sithe that I see the bright goddes seuen,
Mowe wepe and waile, and passion endure,
As may in yearth a mortall creature:
Alas, fro whens may this thing procede,
Of which errour I die almost for drede.

By word eterne whilom was it shape,
That fro the fifth cercle in no manere,
Ne might of teares doune escape,
But now so weepeth Uenus in her sphere,
That with her teares she wol drench vs here,
Alas Scogan this is for thine offence,
Thou cansest this deluge of pestilence.

Hast thou not said in blaspheme of the goddis,
Through pride, or through thy gret rekelnes,
Such things as in the law of loue forbode is,
That for thy lady saw not thy distresse,
Therfore thou yaue her vp at Mighelmesse?
Alas Scogan of oide folke ne yong,
Was neuer erst Scogan blamed for his tong.

Thou drew in scorne Cupide eke to record,
Of thilke rebell word that thou hast spoken,
For which he woll no lenger be thy lord,
And Scogan, though his bow be not broken,
He woll not with his arowes be ywroken
On thee ne me, ne none of our figure,
We shall of him haue neither hurte ne cure.

Now certes frend I drede of thine vnhape,
Lest for thy gilte the wreche of loue procede
On all hem that been hore and round of shape,
That be so likely folke to spede,

Than we shall of our labour haue our mede,
But well I wot thou wolt answere and say,
Lo old Grisell list to renne and play.

Nay Scogan say not so, for I me excuse,
God helpe me so, in no rime doubtles,
Ne thinke I neuer of sleepe wake my muse,
That rusteth in my sheath still in pees,
While I was yong I put her forth in prees,
But all shall passe that men prose or rime,
Take euery man his tourne as for his time.

Scogan thou knelest at the stremes hedde
Of grace, of all honour, and of worthiness,
In thende of which I am dull as dedde,
Forgotten in solitary wildernesse,
Yet Scogan thinke on Tullius kindness,
Mind thy frende there it may fructifie,
Farewel, and looke thou neuer eft loue defie.

EXPLICIT.

Go forth king, rule thee by sapience,
Bishop be able to minister doctrine,
Lorde to true counsaile yeue audience,
Womanhode to chastity euer encline,
Knight let thy deedes worship determine,
Be righteous judge in sauing thy name,

Rich do almose, lest thou lese bliss with shame.

People obey your king and the law,
Age be ruled by good religion,

True seruaunt be dredful and kepe thee vnder aw,
And thou poore, fie on presumpcion,
Inobedience to youth is vtter destruction,
Remember you how God hath set you lo,
And doe your part as ye be ordeined to.

TO HIS EMPTY PURSE.

To you my purse and to none other wight
Complaine I, for ye be my lady dere,
I am sorry now that ye be light,
For certes ye now make me heauy chere,
Me were as lefe laid vpon a bere,
For which vnto your mercy thus I crie,
Be heauy againe or els mote I die.

Now vouchsafe this day or it be night,
That I of you the blissful sowne may here,
Or see your colour like the Sunne bright,
That of yelowness had neuer pere,
Ye be my life, ye be my hertes stere,
Queene of comfort and of good companie,
Be heauy againe, or els mote I die.

Now purse that art to me my liues light,
And sauiour, as downe in this world here,
Out of this towne helpe me by your might,
Sith that you woll not be my treasure,
For I am shaue as nere as any frere,
But I pray vnto your curtesie,
Be heauy againe, or els mote I die.

EXPLICIT.

A BALLAD

MADE BY CHAUCER, TEACHING WHAT IS GENTILNESS, OR
WHOM IS WORTHY TO BE CALLED GENTILL.

THE first stocke father of gentilnes,
What man desireth gentil for to bee,

Must followe his trace, and all his wittes dreis,
Uertue to love, and vices for to flee,

For vnto vertue longeth dignitee,
And not the revers falsly dare I deme,
All weare he miter, crowne or diademe,

This first stocke was full of rightwisnes,
Trewe of his worde, sober, pitous and free,
Clene of his goste and loved besinesse,
Against the vice of slouth in honeste,
And but his eyre love vertue as did he,
He is not gentill though he rich seme,
All weare he miter, crowne or diademe.

WHICH CHAUCER MADE AGAINST WOMEN UNCONSTANT.

MADAME, for your new fangleness,

Many a servaunt have you put out of your grace,
I take my leave of your unstedfastness,
For well I wote, while ye to live haue space,
Ye cannot love full half yere in a place,
To new things your lust is ever kene,

In stede of blew, thus may ye wear all grene.

Right as a mirrour that nothing may enpresse,
But lightly as it cometh, so mote it passe,
So fares your love, your works bear witnes
There is no faith may your herte enbrace,
But as a wedercocke, that turneth his face
With euery wind, ye fare, and that is seene,
In stede of blew, thus may ye weare all grene.

Ye might be shrined, for your brothilnes,
Better than Dalyda, Cresseide, or Candace,
For ever in changing stondeth your sikernes,
That catche may no wight, from your herte a race,
If ye lose one, ye can well twein purchace
Al light for somar, ye wot well what I meene,
In stede of blew, thus may ye weare all grene.

EXPLICIT.

CHAUCER'S WORDS

UNTO HIS OWN SCRIVENER.

ADAM Scriuener if ever it thee befall,
Boece or Troiles for to write new,
Under thy long locks thou maist haue the scall,
But after my making thou write more trew,
So oft a day I mote thy werke renew,
It to correct and eke to rubbe and scrape,
And all is thorow thy negligence and rape.