V. THE PART IS DERIVED FROM THE WHOLE, THE IMPERFECT FROM THE PERFECT. (continued 2)

FIrst wolt Philosophy proposes to question Boethius. þou suffre me to touche and assaie þe stat of þi þouȝt by a fewe demaundes. so þat I may vnderstonde what be þe manere of þi curacioun. ¶ Axe 632 me quod .I. atte þi wille what þou wilt. and I schal answere. P. Is the world governed by Chance? ¶ Þo saide sche þus. wheþer wenest þou quod sche þat þis worlde be gouerned by foolisshe happes and fortunes. or elles wenest þou þat þer be in it any 636 gouernement of resoun. B. By no means. The Creator presides over his own works. Certes quod .I. ne trowe not in no manere þat so certeyne þinges scholde be moeued by fortunouse fortune. but I wot wel þat god maker and mayster is gouernour of þis werk. I shall never swerve from this opinion. Ne neuer nas 640 ȝit day þat myȝt[e] putte me oute of þe soþenesse of þat sentence. P. Yes! Thou didst say as much when thou didst declare man alone to be destitute of divine care. ¶ So is it quod sche. for þe same þing songe þou a lytel here byforne and byweyledest and byweptest. þat only men weren put oute of þe cure of 644 god. ¶ For of alle oþer þinges þou ne doutest nat þat þei nere gouerned by reson. Still thou seemest to labour under some defect even in this conviction. but how (.i. pape.). I wondre gretly certes whi þat þou art seek. siþen þou art put in to so holesom a sentence. but lat vs seken 648 depper. I coniecte þat þere lakkeþ I not what. Tell me how the world is governed. but sey me þis. siþen þat þou ne doutest nat þat þis worlde be gouerned by god ¶ wiþ swycche gouernailes takest þou hede þat it is gouerned. B. I do not thoroughly comprehend your question. ¶ vnneþ quod .I. knowe 652 .I. þe sentence of þi questioun. so þat I ne may nat ȝit answeren to þi demaundes. P. I was not deceived, then, when I said there was some defect in thy sentiment. ¶ I nas nat deceiued quod sche þat þere ne faileþ sumwhat. by whiche þe maladie of perturbacioun is crept in to þi þouȝt. so 656 as þe strengþe of þe paleys schynyng is open. Tell me what is the chief end of all things; and whither all things tend. ¶ But seye me þis remembrest þou ouȝt what is þe ende of þi þinges. whider þat þe entencioun of al kynde tendeþ. ¶ I haue herd told it somtyme quod .I. but drerynesse 660 haþ dulled my memorie. ¶ Certys quod sche þou wost wel whennes þat alle þinges ben comen and proceded. B. God is the beginning of all things. I wot wel quod .I. and ansewered[e] þat god is þe bygynnyng of al. P. How, then, art thou ignorant of their end? ¶ And how may þis be 664 quod sche þat siþen þou knowest þe bygynnyng of þinges. þat þou ne knowest not what is þe endyng of þinges. But it is the nature of these perturbations (which thou endurest) to unsettle men’s minds. but swiche ben þe customes of perturbaciouns. and þis power þei han. þat þei may moeue a man fro 668 hys place. þat is to seyne from þe stablenes and perfeccioun of hys knowyng. but certys þei may not al arace hym ne alyene hym in al. ¶ But I wolde þat þou woldest answere to þis. Dost thou remember that thou art a man? ¶ Remembrest þou þat 672 þou art a man B. Certainly I do. ¶ Boice. ¶ Whi scholde I nat remembre þat quod .I. P. What is man? Philosophie. ¶ Maiste þou not telle me þan quod sche what þing is a man. B. If you ask me whether I am a rational and mortal creature, I know and confess I am. ¶ Axest not me quod I. wheþir þat be a resonable best mortel. I 676 wot wel and I confesse wel þat I am it. P. But dost thou not know that thou art more than this? ¶ Wistest þou neuer ȝit þat þou were ony oþer þing quod she.

B. No. No quod .I. P. Now I know the principal cause of thy distemper. now wot I quod she oþer cause of þi maladie and þat ryȝt grete ¶ Þou hast left forto 680 knowe þi self what þou art. þoruȝ whiche I haue pleynelyche knowen þe cause of þi maladie. or ellis þe entre of recoueryng of þin hele. Thou hast lost the knowledge of thyself, thou knowest not the end of things, and hast forgotten how the world is governed. ¶ Forwhy for þou art confounded wiþ forȝetyng of þi self. forþi sorwest 684 þou þat þou art exiled of þi propre goodes. ¶ And for þou ne wost what is þe ende of þinges. for[þi] demest [þou] þat felonous and wikked men ben myȝty and weleful for þou hast forȝeten by whiche gouernementȝ þe worlde 688 is gouerned. ¶ Forþi wenest þou þat þise mutaciouns of fortune fleten wiþ outen gouernour. These are not only great occasions of disease, but also causes of death itself. þise ben grete causes not oonly to maladie. but certes grete causes to deeþ I thank God that Reason hath not wholly deserted thee. ¶ But I þanke þe auctour and þe makere of 692 heele þat nature haþ not al forleten þe. I have some hope of thy recovery since thou believest that the world is under Divine Providence, for this small spark shall produce vital heat. and I haue g[r]ete norissinges of þi hele. and þat is þe soþe sentence of gouernaunce of þe worlde. þat þou byleuest þat þe gouernynge of it nis nat subgit ne vnderput 696 [* fol. 8 b.] to þe folie *of þise happes auenterouses. but to þe resoun of god ¶ And þer fore doute þe noþing. For of þis litel spark þine heet of lijf schal shine. But as this is not the time for stronger remedies, and because it is natural to embrace false opinions so soon as we have laid aside the true, from whence arises a mist that darkens the understanding, I shall endeavour therefore to dissipate these vapours so that you may perceive the true light. ¶ But for as muche as it is not tyme ȝitte of fastere remedies 700 ¶ And þe nature of þouȝtes disseiued is þis þat as ofte as þei casten aweye soþe opyniouns: þei cloþen hem in fals[e] opiniouns. [of whiche false opyniouns] þe derknesse of perturbacioun wexeþ vp. þat comfoundeþ þe verray 704 insyȝt. and þat derkenes schal .I. say somwhat to maken þinne and wayk by lyȝt and meenelyche remedies. so þat after þat þe derknes of desseyuynge desyrynges is don awey. þou mow[e] knowe þe schynyng 708 of verray lyȝt.

After þis she Philosophy exhorts Boethius not to torment himself on account of his losses. stynte a litel. and after þat she hadde gadred by atempre stillenesse myn attencioun she 728 seide þus. Thou art, she says, affected by the loss of thy former fortune. ¶ As who so myȝt[e] seye þus. After þise þinges she stynt[e] a lytel. and whanne she aperceiued[e] by atempre stillenesse þat I was ententif to herkene hire. she bygan to speke in þis wyse. ¶ Yif 732 I quod she haue vnderstonden and knowe vtterly þe causes and þe habit of þi maladie. þou languissed and art deffeted for talent and desijr of þi raþer fortune. It hath perverted thy faculties. ¶ She þat ilke fortune only þat is chaunged as þou 736 feinest to þe ward. haþ peruerted þe clerenesse and þe astat of þi corage. I am well acquainted with all the wiles of that Prodigy (i. e. Fortune). ¶ I vnderstonde þe felefolde colour and deceites of þilke merueillous monstre fortune. and how she vseþ ful flatryng familarite wiþ hem 740 þat she enforceþ to bygyle. so longe til þat she confounde wiþ vnsuffreable sorwe hem þat she haþ left in despeir vnpurueyed. Though she has left thee, thou hast not lost anything of beauty or of worth. ¶ and if þou remembrest wel þe kynde þe maners and þe desert of þilke fortune. þow 744 shalt wel knowe as in hir þou neuer ne haddest ne hast ylost any fair þing. But as I trowe I shal not gretly trauaile to don þe remembren of þise þinges. Thou wert once proof against her allurements. ¶ For þou were wont to hurtlen [and despysen] hir 748 wiþ manly wordes whan she was blaundissinge and presente and pursewedest hir wiþ sentences þat were drawen oute of myne entre. þat is to seyne out of myn informacioun But sudden change works a great alteration in the minds of men, hence it is that thou art departed from thy usual peace of mind. ¶ But no sudeyne mutacioun ne 752 bytideþ nat wiþ outen a maner chaungyng of curages. and so is it byfallen þat þou art departed a litel fro þe pees of þi þouȝt. But with some gentle emollients I shall prepare thee for stronger medicines. but now is tyme þat þou drynke and atast[e] some softe and delitable þinges. so þat whan 756 þei ben entred wiþ inne þe. it mow make weye to strenger drynkes of medycynes. Approach then, Rhetoric, with thy persuasive charms, and therewith let Music also draw near. ¶ Com nowe furþe þerfore þe suasioun of swetnesse Rethoryen. whiche þat goþ oonly þe ryȝt wey whil she forsakeþ not myne 760 estatutȝ. ¶ And wiþ Rethorice com forþe musice a damoisel of oure house þat syngeþ now lyȝter moedes or prolaciouns now heuyer. [* fol. 9.] *what ayleþ þe man. what is it þat haþ cast þe in to murnyng and in to wepyng. 764 I trow[e] þat þou hast sen some newe þing and uncouþe. Thou thinkest that Fortune is changed towards thee. ¶ Þou wenest þat fortune be chaunged aȝeins þe But thou art deceived. ¶ But þou wenest wrong. yif þou [þat] wene. In this misadventure of thine she hath preserved her constancy in changing. Alwey þo ben hire maners. she haþ raþer [kept] as to 768 þe ward hire propre stablenes in þe chaungyng of hyre self. ¶ Ryȝt swyche was she whan she flatered[e] þe. and desseiued[e] þe wiþ vnleueful lykynges of false welefulnesse. You have seen the double face of this blind divinity. þou hast now knowen and ataynt 772 þe doutous or double visage of þilke blynde goddesse fortune. ¶ She þat ȝit couereþ hir and wympleþ hir to oþer folk. haþ shewed hir euerydel to þe. ¶ Ȝif þou approuest hir and þenkest þat she is good. vse 776 hir maners and pleyne þe nat. If thou dost abhor her perfidy cast her off, for her sports are dangerous. ¶ And if þou agrisest hir fals[e] trecherie. dispise and cast aweye hir þat pleyeþ so harmefully. for she þat is now cause of so myche sorwe to þe. sholde be to þe cause of pees and 780 [of] ioie. ¶ she haþ forsaken þe forsoþe. þe whiche þat neuer man may be syker þat she ne shal forsake hym. Glose. ¶ But naþeles some bookes han þe text þus. For soþe she haþ forsaken þe ne þer nis no man 784 syker þat she ne haþ not forsaken. Is that happiness which is so transient? ¶ Holdest þou þan þilke welefulnesse preciouse to þe þat shal passen. Is the attendance of Fortune so dear to thee, whose stay is so uncertain, and whose removal causes such grief? and is present fortune derworþi to þe. whiche þat nis not feiþful forto dwelle. and whan she goþ aweye þat 788 she bryngeþ a wyȝt in sorwe ¶ For syn she may nat be wiþholden at a mans wille. she makeþ hym a wrecche when she departeþ fro hym. What is she (Fortune) but the presage of future calamity? ¶ What oþer þing is flitting fortune but a manere shewyng of wrycchednesse 792 þat is to comen. ne it ne suffriþ nat oo[n]ly to loken of þing þat is present byforne þe eyen of man. but wisdom lokeþ and mesureþ þe ende of þinges. Her mutability should make men neither fear her threats nor desire her favours. and þe same chaungyng from one to an oþer. þat is to seyne 796 fro aduersite to prosperite makeþ þat þe manaces of fortune ne ben not forto dreden. ne þe flatrynges of hir to ben desired. ¶ Þus atte þe last it byhoueþ þe to suffren wiþ euene wille in pacience al þat is don 800 inwiþ þe floor of fortune. þat is to seyne in þis worlde.

CErtis I Philosophy expostulates with Boethius in the name of Fortune. wolde plete wiþ þee a fewe þinges vsynge þe wordes of fortune tak heede now þi self. yif þat she axeþ ryȝt. [* fol. 9 b.] Why do you accuse me (Fortune) as guilty? *¶ O þou man wher fore makest þou me gilty by þine euerydayes pleynynges. what wronges 836 haue I don þe. What goods or advantages have I deprived you of? what goodes haue I byreft þe þat weren þine. stryf or plete wiþ me by fore what iuge þat þou wilt of þe possessioun of rycchesse or of dignites Can you prove that ever any man had a fixed property in his riches? ¶ And yif þou maist shewe me þat euer any mortal man haþ 840 receyued any of þese þinges to ben his in propre. þan wol I graunt[e] frely þat [alle] þilke þinges weren þine whiche þat þou axest. You came naked into the world, and I cherished you and encompassed you with affluence. ¶ Whan þat nature brouȝt[e] þe forþe out of þi moder wombe. I receyued[e] þe naked 844 and nedy of al þing. and I norysshed[e] þe wiþ my rychesse. and was redy and ententif þoruȝ my fauour to sustene þe. ¶ And þat makeþ þe now inpacient aȝeins me. and I envirounde þe wiþ al þe habundaunce and 848 shinyng of al goodes þat ben in my ryȝt. Now that I have a mind to withdraw my bounty, be thankful and complain not. ¶ Now it lykeþ me to wiþ drawe myne hande. þou hast had grace as he þat haþ vsed of foreyne goodes. þou hast no ryȝt to pleyne þe. as þouȝ þou haddest vtterly lorn alle þi 852 þinges. whi pleynest þou þan. I haue don þe no wrong. Riches and honours are subject to me. Ricches honoures and swyche oþer þinges ben of my ryȝt. They are my servants, and come and go with me. ¶ My seruauntes knowen me for hir lady. þei comen wiþ me and departen whan I wende. I dar wel 856 affermen hardyly. þat yif þo þinges of whiche þou pleynest þat þou hast forlorn hadde ben þine. þou ne haddest not lorn hem. Shall I alone be forbidden to use my own right? ¶ shal I þan only be defended to vse my ryȝt. Doth not heaven give us sunny days and obscure the same with dark nights? ¶ Certis it is leueful to þe heuene to 860 make clere dayes. and after þat to keuere þe same dayes wiþ derke nyȝtes. Is not the earth covered with frost as well as with flowers? ¶ Þe erþe haþ eke leue to apparaile þe visage of þe erþe now with floures and now wiþ fruyt. and to confounde hem somtyme wiþ raynes and 864 wiþ coldes. The sea sometimes appears calm, and at other times terrifies us with its tempestuous waves. ¶ Þe see haþ eke hys ryȝt to be somtyme calme and blaundyshing wiþ smoþe water. and somtyme to be horrible wiþ wawes and wiþ tempestes. Shall I be bound to constancy by the covetousness of men? ¶ But þe couetyse of men þat may not be staunched 868 shal it bynde me to be stedfast. syn þat stedfastnesse is vnkouþ to my maneres. ¶ Swyche is my strengþe. I turn my rolling wheel and amuse myself with exalting what was low, and bringing down what was high. and þis pley. I pley[e] continuely. I tourne þe whirlyng whele wiþ þe tournyng cercle ¶ I am glade to chaunge 872 þe lowest to þe heyeste. and þe heyest to þe loweste.

Ascend if you will, but come down when my sport requires it. worþe vp yif þou wilt. so it be by þis lawe. þat þou ne holde not þat I do þe wronge þouȝ þou descende doun whanne resoun of my pleye axeþ it. Know you not the history of Crœsus and of Paulus Æmilius? Wost þou 876 not how Cresus kyng of lyndens of whiche kyng Cirus was ful sore agast a litel byforne þat þis rewlyche Cresus was cauȝt of Cirus and lad to þe fijr to be brent. but þat a reyne descended[e] doun from heuene 880 þat rescowed[e] hym ¶ And is it out of þi mynde how þat Paulus consul of Rome whan he hadde take þe kyng of perciens weep pitou[s]ly for þe captiuitee of þe self[e] kyng. What else does the weeping muse of Tragedy deplore but the overthrow of kingdoms by the indiscriminate strokes of Fortune? What oþer þinges bywaylen þe criinges of 884 Tragedies. but only þe dedes of fortune. þat wiþ an vnwar stroke ouerturneþ þe realmes of grete nobley ¶ Glose. Tragedie is to seyne a dite of a prosperite for a tyme þat endiþ in wrechednesse. Did you not learn whilst a youth, that at the gates of Jove’s palace stand two vessels, one full of blessings, the other of woes? Lernedest nat þou 888 in grek whan þou were ȝonge þat in þe entre or in þe seler of Iuppiter þer ben couched two tunnes. þat on is ful of good þat oþer is ful of harme. What if you have drunk too deep of the first vessel? ¶ What ryȝt hast þou to pleyne. yif þou hast taken more plenteuously 892 of þe goode syde þat is to seyne of my rycchesse and prosperites. and what eke. yif I be nat departed fro þe. My mutability gives thee hope of happier days. What eke. yif my mutabilitee ȝiueþ þe ryȝtful cause of hope to han ȝit better þinges. Desire not to be exempted from the vicissitudes of humanity. ¶ Naþeles desmaie þe 896 nat in þi þouȝt. and þou þat art put in comune realme of alle: ne desijr[e] nat to lyue by þine oonly propre ryȝt.

Þerfore yif If Fortune spake thus to you, you could not defend your complaint. þat fortune spake wiþ þe for hir self in þis manere. For soþe þou ne haddest [nat] what þou myȝtest answere. and if þou hast any þing wherwiþ. þou mayist ryȝtfully tellen þi compleynt. ¶ It 920 byhoueþ þe to shewen it. and .I. wol ȝeue þe space to tellen it. B. What you have said is very specious, but such discourses are only sweet while they strike our ears. ¶ Certeynely quod I þan þise ben faire þinges and enoyntid wiþ hony swetnesse of rethorike and musike. and only while þei ben herd þei ben 924 deliciouse. They cannot efface the deep impressions that misery has made in the heart. ¶ But to wrecches is a deppere felyng of harme. þis is to seyn þat wrecches felen þe harmes þat þei suffren more greuously þan þe remedies or þe delites of þise wordes mowe gladen or comforten hem. so þat 928 whan þise þinges stynten forto soun[e] in eres. þe sorwe þat is inset greueþ þe þouȝt. P. So it is indeed; for my arguments are not designed as remedies, but as lenitives only. Ryȝt so is it quod she. ¶ For þise ne ben ȝit none remedies of þi maladie. but þei ben a manere norissinges of þi sorwe ȝit rebel 932 aȝeyne þi curacioun. When time serves, I will administer those things that shall reach the seat of your disease. ¶ For whan þat tyme is. I shal moue swiche þinges þat percen hem self depe. But you are not among the number of the wretched. ¶ But naþeles þat þou shalt not wilne to leten þi self a wrecche. ¶ Hast þou forȝeten þe noumbre and þe 936 manere of þi welefulnesse. I shall not speak of your happiness in being provided for (in your orphanage) by the chief men of the city; nor of your noble alliance with Festus and Symmachus; I holde me stille how þat þe souerayn men of þe Citee token þe in cure and kepynge whan þou were orphelyn of fadir and modir. and were chosen in affinite of princes of þe Citee. 940 ¶ And þou bygunne raþer to ben leef and deere þan forto ben a neyȝbour. þe whiche þing is þe most preciouse kynde of any propinquitee or aliaunce þat may ben. ¶ Who is it þat ne seide þou nere ryȝt weleful 944 wiþ so grete a nobley of þi fadres in lawe. nor of your virtuous wife, and manly sons. ¶ And wiþ þe chastite of þi wijf. and wiþ þe oportunite and noblesse of þi masculyn children. þat is to seyne þi sones and ouer al þis me lyst to passe of comune þinges. 948 ¶ How þou haddest in þi þouȝt dignitees þat weren warned to olde men. but it deliteþ me to comen now to þe singuler vphepyng of þi welefulnesse. ¶ Yif any fruyt of mortal þinges may han any weyȝte or price of 952 welefulnesse. Can you ever forget the memorable day that saw your two sons invested with the dignity of Consuls? ¶ Myȝtest þou euere forȝeten for any charge of harme þat myȝt[e] byfallen. þe remembraunce of þilke day þat þou sey[e] þi two sones maked conseillers. and ylad to gidre from þin house vndir so gret 956 assemble of senatours. and vndir þe blyþenesse of poeple. and whan þou say[e] hem sette in þe court in her chaieres of dignites. ¶ Þou rethorien or pronouncere of kynges preysinges. deseruedest glorie of wit and of 960 eloquence. When in the circus you satisfied the expectant multitude with a triumphal largess? whan þou sittyng bytwix þi two sones conseillers in þe place þat hyȝt Circo. and fulfildest þe abydyng of multitude of poeple þat was sprad about þe wiþ large praysynge and laude as men syngen in victories. 964 By your expressions you flattered Fortune, and obtained from her a gift which never before fell to any private person. þo ȝaue þou wordes of fortune as I trowe. þat is to seyne. þo feffedest þou fortune wiþ glosynge wordes and desseiuedest hir. whan she accoied[e] þe and norsshed[e] þe as hir owen delices. ¶ Þou hast 968 had of fortune a ȝifte þat is to seyn swiche gerdoun þat she neu[er]e ȝaf to preue man Will you therefore call Fortune to account? ¶ Wilt þou þerfore leye a rekenyng wiþ fortune. She now begins, I own, to look unkindly on you; but if you consider the number of your blessings, you must confess that you are still happy. she haþ now twynkeled first vpon þe wiþ a wykked eye. ¶ Yif þou considere 972 þe noumbre and þe manere of þi blysses. and of þi sorwes. [* fol. 10 b.] *þou maist nat forsake þat þou nart ȝit blysful.

ÞAnne seide I B. I cannot deny my sudden and early prosperity. þus. O norice of alle uertues þou seist ful soþe. ¶ Ne I may nat forsake þe ryȝt[e] 1008 swifte cours of my prosperitee. þat is to seine. þat prosperitee ne be comen to me wondir swiftly and soone. but þis is a þing þat gretly smertiþ me whan it remembreþ me. It is the remembrance of former happiness that adds most to man’s infelicity. ¶ For in alle aduersitees of fortune þe 1012 most vnsely kynde of contrariouse fortune is to han ben weleful. P. Recollect that you have yet much affluence. ¶ But þat þou quod she abaist þus þe tourment of þi fals[e] opinioun þat maist þou not ryȝtfully blamen ne aretten to þinges. as who seiþ for þou 1016 hast ȝitte many habundaunces of þinges. ¶ Textus. For al be it so þat þe ydel name of auenterouse welefulnesse moeueþ þe now. it is leueful þat þou rekene with me of how many[e] þinges þou hast ȝit plentee. 1020 What you esteemed most precious in your happy days, you still retain, and ought therefore not to complain. ¶ And þerfore yif þat þilke þing þat þou haddest for most precious in alle þi rycchesse of fortune be kept to þe by þe grace of god vnwemmed and vndefouled. Mayst þou þan pleyne ryȝtfully vpon þe myschief of fortune. 1024 syn þou hast ȝit þi best[e] þinges. ¶ Certys ȝit lyueþ in goode poynt þilke precious honour of mankynde. Symmachus, dear to you as life, is safe and in health. ¶ Symacus þi wyues fadir whiche þat is a man maked al of sapience and of vertue. þe whiche 1028 man þou woldest b[i]en redely wiþ þe pris of þin owen lijf. he byweyleþ þe wronges þat men don to þee. and not for hym self. for he liueþ in sykernesse of any sentence put aȝeins him. Your wife Rusticiana is also alive, and bewails her separation from you. ¶ And ȝit lyueþ þi wif þat 1032 is attempre of witte and passyng oþer women in clennes of chastitee. and for I wol closen shortly her bountes she is lyke to hir fadir. I telle þe welle þat she lyueþ looþ of hir life. and kepiþ to þee oonly hir goost. and 1036 is al maat and ouer-comen by wepyng and sorwe for desire of þe ¶ In þe whiche þing only I mot graunten þat þi welefulnesse is amenused. Why need I mention your two sons, in whom so much of the wit and spirit of their sire and grandsire doth shine? ¶ What shal I seyn eke of þi two sones conseillours of whiche as of children 1040 [* fol. 11.] of hir age þer shineþ *þe lyknesse of þe witte of hir fadir and of hir eldefadir. And since it is the chief care of man to preserve life; you are still most happy in the possession of blessings which all men value more than life. and siþen þe souereyn cure of alle mortel folke is to sauen hir owen lyues.

¶ O how weleful art þou þouȝ þou knowe þi goodes. 1044 ¶ But ȝitte ben þer þinges dwellyng to þe wardes þat no man douteþ þat þei ne ben more derworþe to þe þen þine owen lijf. Dry up thy tears, thou hast still present comfort and hope of future felicity. ¶ And forþi drie þi teres for ȝitte nys nat eueriche fortune al hateful to þe warde. ne ouer 1048 greet tempest haþ nat ȝit fallen vpon þe. whan þat þin ancres cliue fast[e] þat neiþer wole suffre þe comfort of þis tyme present. ne þe hope of tyme comynge to passen ne to fallen. B. I hope these will never fail me. ¶ And I preie quod I þat fast[e] mot[en] 1052 þei holden. ¶ For whiles þat þei halden. how so euere þat þinges ben. I shal wel fleten furþe and eschapen. But do you not see how low I am fallen? ¶ But þou mayst wel seen how greet[e] apparailes and aray þat me lakkeþ þat ben passed awey fro me. P. I should think that I had made progress if you did not repine so at your fate. ¶ I 1056 haue sumwhat auaunced and forþered þe quod she. if þat þou anoie nat or forþenke nat of al þi fortune. As who seiþ. ¶ I haue somwhat comforted þe so þat þou tempest nat þe þus wiþ al þi fortune. syn þou hast 1060 ȝit þi best[e] þinges. It grieves me to hear you complain while you possess so many comforts. ¶ But I may nat suffre þin delices. þat pleinst so wepyng. and anguissous for þat oþer lakkeþ somwhat to þi welefulnesse. Every one, however happy, has something to complain of. ¶ For what man is so sad or of so perfit welefulnesse. þat he ne 1064 stryueþ or pleyneþ on some half aȝeine þe qualitee of his estat. The condition of human enjoyment is anxious; for either it comes not all at once, or makes no long stay when it does come. ¶ For whi ful anguissous þing is þe condicioun of mans goodes. ¶ For eyþer it comeþ al to gidre to a wyȝt. or ellys it lasteþ not perpetuely. 1068

One man is very wealthy, but his birth is obscure. ¶ For som man haþ grete rycchesse. but he is asshamed of hys vngentil lynage. Another is conspicuous for nobility of descent, but is surrounded by indigence. and som man is renomed of noblesse of kynrede. but he is enclosed in so grete angre for nede of þinges. þat hym were leuer þat 1072 he were vnknowe. A third is blest with both advantages, but is unmarried. and som man habundeþ boþe in rychesse and noblesse. but ȝit he bywaileþ hys chast[e] lijf. for he haþ no wijf. This man is happy in a wife, but is childless, while that other man has the joy of children, but is mortified by their evil ways. ¶ and som man is wel and selily maried but he haþ no children. and norissheþ his 1076 ricchesse to þe heires of straunge folk. ¶ And som man is gladded wiþ children. but he wepiþ ful sory for þe trespas of his son or of his douȝtir. Thus we see that no man can agree easily with the state of his fortune. ¶ and for þis þer accordeþ no wyȝt lyȝtly to þe condicioun of his fortune. 1080 for alwey to euery man þere is in mest somwhat þat vnassaieþ he ne wot not or ellys he drediþ þat he haþ assaied. The senses of the happy are refined and delicate, and they are impatient if anything is untoward. ¶ And adde þis also þat euery weleful man haþ a wel delicat felyng. ¶ So þat but yif alle 1084 þinges fallen at hys owen wille for he inpacient or is nat vsed to han none aduersitee. an-oone he is þrowe adoũne for euery lytel þing. The happiness of the most fortunate depends on trifles. ¶ And ful lytel þinges ben þo þat wiþdrawen þe somme or þe perfeccioun of 1088 blisfulnesse fro hem þat ben most fortunat. How many would think themselves in heaven if they had only a part of the remnant of thy fortune! ¶ How many men trowest þou wolde demen hem self to ben almost in heuene yif þei myȝten atteyne to þe leest[e] partie of þe remenaunt of þi fortune. ¶ Þis same place 1092 þat þou clepist exil is contre to hem þat enhabiten here. Thy miseries proceed from the thought that thou art miserable. and forþi. Noþing wrecched. but whan þou wenest it Every lot may be happy to the man who bears his condition with equanimity and courage. ¶ As who seiþ. þouȝ þi self ne no wyȝt ellys nys no wrecche but whan he weneþ hym self a 1096 wrecche by reputacioun of his corage.

And aȝeinewarde al fortune is blisful to a man by þe agreablete or by þe egalite of hym þat suffreþ it. When patience is lost then a change of state is desired. ¶ What man is þat. þat is so weleful þat nolde chaungen 1100 his estat whan he haþ lorn pacience. þe swetnesse of mannes welefulnesse is yspranid wiþ many[e] bitternesses. þe whiche welefulnesse al þouȝ it seme swete and ioyeful to hym þat vseþ it. ȝit may it not be wiþ-holden 1104 þat it ne goþ away whan it wol. How much is human felicity embittered! ¶ Þan is it wel sen how wrecched is þe blisfulnesse of mortel þinges. It will not stay with those that endure their lot with equanimity, nor bring comfort to anxious minds. þat neiþer it dwelliþ perpetuel wiþ hem þat euery fortune receyuen agreablely or egaly. ¶ Ne it ne deliteþ not in 1108 al. to hem þat ben anguissous. Why then, O mortals, do ye seek abroad for that felicity which is to be found within yourselves? ¶ O ye mortel folkes [* fol. 11 b.] what seke *ȝe þan blisfulnesse oute of ȝoure self. whiche þat is put in ȝoure self. Errour and folie confoundeþ ȝow ¶ I shal shewe þe shortly. þe poynt of souereyne 1112 blisfulnesse. Nothing is more precious than thyself. Is þer any þing to þe more preciouse þan þi self ¶ Þou wilt answere nay. If thou hast command over thyself, Fortune cannot deprive thee of it. ¶ Þan if it so be þat þou art myȝty ouer þi self þat is to seyn by tranquillitee of þi soule. þan hast þou þing in þi power þat þou 1116 noldest neuer lesen. ne fortune may nat by-nyme it þe. Happiness does not consist in things transitory. and þat þou mayst knowe þat blisfulnesse [ne] may nat standen in þinges þat ben fortunous and temperel. If happiness be the supreme good of nature, then that thing cannot be it which can be withdrawn from us. ¶ Now vndirstonde and gadir it to gidir þus 1120 yif blisfulnesse be þe souereyne goode of nature þat liueþ by resoun ¶ Ne þilke þing nis nat souereyne goode þat may be taken awey in any wyse. for more worþi þing and more digne is þilke þing þat may nat be 1124 taken awey. Instability of fortune is not susceptive of true happiness. ¶ Þan shewiþ it wele þat þe vnstablenesse of fortune may nat attayne to receyue verray blisfulnes. ¶ And ȝit more ouer. He who is led by fading felicity, either knows that it is changeable or does not know it. ¶ What man þat þis toumblyng welefulnesse leediþ. eiþer he woot þat 1128 [it] is chaungeable. or ellis he woot it nat. If he knows it not, what happiness has he in the blindness of his ignorance? ¶ And yif he woot it not. what blisful fortune may þer be in þe blyndenesse of ignoraunce. and yif he woot þat it is chaungeable. he mot alwey ben adrad þat he ne lese 1132 þat þing. þat he ne douteþ nat but þat he may leesen it.

If he knows it is fleeting he must be afraid of losing it, and this fear will not suffer him to be happy. ¶ As whoo seiþ he mot ben alwey agast lest he leese þat he wot wel he may leese. ¶ For whiche þe continuel drede þat he haþ ne suffriþ hym nat to ben 1136 weleful. ¶ Or ellys yif he leese it he wene to be dispised and forleten hit. ¶ Certis eke þat is a ful lytel goode þat is born wiþ euene hert[e] whan it is loost. ¶ Þat is to seyne þat men don no more force. 1140 of þe lost þan of þe hauynge. Since thou art convinced of the soul’s immortality, thou canst not doubt that if death puts an end to human felicity, that all men when they die, are plunged into the depths of misery. ¶ And for as myche as þou þi self art he to whom it haþ ben shewid and proued by ful many[e] demonstraciouns. as I woot wel þat þe soules of men ne mowen nat dien in no wise. and eke 1144 syn it is clere. and certeyne þat fortunous welefulnesse endiþ by þe deeþ of þe body. ¶ It may nat ben douted þat yif þat deeþ may take awey blysfulnesse þat al þe kynde of mortal þingus ne descendiþ in to wrecchednesse 1148 by þe ende of þe deeþ. But we know that many have sought to obtain felicity, by undergoing not only death, but pains and torments. ¶ And syn we knowen wel þat many a man haþ souȝt þe fruit of blisfulnesse nat only wiþ suffryng of deeþ. but eke wiþ suffryng of peynes and tourmentes. How then can this present life make men truly happy, since when it is ended they do not become miserable? how myȝt[e] þan þis present 1152 lijf make men blisful. syn þat whanne þilke self[e] lijf is endid. it ne makeþ folk no wrecches.

But for as It is now time to use stronger medicines, since lighter remedies have taken effect. moche as þe noryssinges of my resouns descenden now in to þe. I trowe it were tyme to vsen a litel strenger medicynes. What is there in the gifts of Fortune that is not vile and despicable? ¶ Now vndirstonde 1172 here al were it so þat þe ȝiftis of fortune nar[e] nat brutel ne transitorie. what is þer in hem þat may be [* fol. 12.] þine *in any tyme. or ellis þat it nys foule if þat it be considered and lokid perfitely. Are riches precious in themselves, or in men’s estimation? ¶ Richesse ben þei 1176 preciouse by þe nature of hem self. or ellys by þe nature of þe. What is most precious in them, quantity or quality? What is most worþi of rycchesse. is it nat golde or myȝt of moneye assembled. Bounty is more glorious than niggardliness. ¶ Certis þilke golde and þilke moneye shineþ and ȝeueþ better 1180 renoun to hem þat dispenden it. þen to þilke folke þat mokeren it. Avarice is always hateful, while liberality is praise-worthy. For auarice makeþ alwey mokeres to be hated. and largesse makeþ folke clere of renoun ¶ For syn þat swiche þing as is transfered from o 1184 man to an oþer ne may nat dwellen wiþ no man. Money cannot be more precious than when it is dispensed liberally to others. Certis þan is þilke moneye precious. whan it is translated in to oþer folk. and stynteþ to ben had by vsage of large ȝeuyng of hym þat haþ ȝeuen it. If one man’s coffers contained all the money in the world, every one else would be in want of it. and 1188 also yif al þe moneye þat is ouer-al in þe world were gadered towar[d] o man. it sholde maken al oþer men to ben nedy as of þat. ¶ And certys a voys al hool þat is to seyn wiþ-oute amenusynge fulfilleþ to gyder 1192 þe heryng of myche folke. Riches cannot be dispensed without diminution. but Certys ȝoure rycchesse ne mowen nat passen vnto myche folk wiþ-oute amenussyng ¶ And whan þei ben apassed. nedys þei maken hem pore þat forgon þe rycchesses. O the poverty of riches, that cannot be enjoyed by many at the same time, nor can be possessed by one without impoverishing others! ¶ O streite and 1196 nedy clepe I þise rycchesses. syn þat many folke [ne] may nat han it al. ne al may it nat comen to on man wiþ-oute pouerte of al oþer folke. ¶ And þe shynynge of gemmes þat I clepe preciouse stones. draweþ it nat 1200 þe eyen of folk in to hem warde. þat is to seyne for þe beaute. The beauty of precious stones consists only in their brightness, wherefore I marvel that men admire that which is motionless, lifeless, and irrational. ¶ For certys yif þer were beaute or bounte in shynyng of stones. þilke clerenesse is of þe stones hem self. and nat of men. ¶ For whiche I wondre 1204 gretly þat men merueilen on swiche þinges. ¶ For whi what þing is it þat yif it wanteþ moeuyng and ioynture of soule and body þat by ryȝt myȝt[e] semen a faire creature to hym þat haþ a soule of resoun. 1208 Precious stones are indeed the workmanship of the Creator, but their beauty is infinitely below the excellency of man’s nature. ¶ For al be it so þat gemmes drawen to hem self a litel of þe laste beaute of þe worlde. þoruȝ þe entent of hir creatour and þoruȝ þe distinccioun of hem self. ȝit for as myche as þei ben put vndir ȝoure excellence. 1212 þei han not desserued by no weye þat ȝe shullen merueylen on hem. Doth the beauty of the field delight thee? ¶ And þe beaute of feeldes deliteþ it nat mychel vnto ȝow. B. Why should it not? for it is a beautiful part of a beautiful whole. Boyce. ¶ Whi sholde it nat deliten vs. syn þat it is a ryȝt fayr porcioun of þe ryȝt 1216 fair werk. þat is to seyn of þis worlde. Hence, we admire the face of the sea, the heavens, as well as the sun, moon, and stars. ¶ And ryȝt so ben we gladed somtyme of þe face of þe see whan it is clere. And also merueylen we on þe heuene and on þe sterres. and on þe sonne. and on þe mone. 1220 P. Do these things concern thee? darest thou glory in them? Philosophie. ¶ Apperteineþ quod she any of þilke þinges to þe. whi darst þou glorifie þe in þe shynynge of any swiche þinges. Do the flowers adorn you with their variety? Art þou distingwed and embelised by þe spryngyng floures of þe first somer 1224 sesoun. or swelliþ þi plente in fruytes of somer. whi art þou rauyshed wiþ ydel ioies. Why embracest thou things wherein thou hast no property? why enbracest þou straunge goodes as þei weren þine. Fortune can never make that thine which the nature of things forbids to be so. Fortune shal neuer maken þat swiche þinges ben þine þat nature of þinges 1228 maked foreyne fro þe. The fruits of the earth are designed for the support of beasts. ¶ Syche is þat wiþ-outen doute þe fruytes of þe erþe owen to ben on þe norssinge of bestes. If you seek only the necessities of nature, the affluence of Fortune will be useless. ¶ And if þou wilt fulfille þi nede after þat it suffiseþ to nature þan is it no nede 1232 þat þou seke after þe superfluite of fortune. Nature is content with a little, and superfluity will be both disagreeable and hurtful. ¶ For wiþ ful fewe þinges and with ful lytel þing nature halt hire appaied. and yif þou wilt achoken þe fulfillyng of nature wiþ superfluites ¶ Certys þilke 1236 þinges þat þou wilt þresten or pouren in to nature shullen ben vnioyeful to þe or ellis anoies. Does it add to a man’s worth to shine in variety of costly clothing? ¶ Wenest þou eke þat it be a fair þinge to shine wiþ dyuerse cloþing. The things really to be admired are the beauty of the stuff or the workmanship of it. of whiche cloþing yif þe beaute be agreable 1240 to loken vpon. I wol merueylen on þe nature of þe matere of þilke cloþes. or ellys on þe werkeman þat wrouȝt[e] hem. Doth a great retinue make thee happy? but al so a longe route of meyne. makiþ [* fol. 12 b.] þat a blisful *man. If thy servants be vicious, they are a great burden to the house, and pernicious enemies to the master of it. þe whiche seruauntes yif þei ben 1244 vicioũs of condiciouns it is a greet charge and a destruccioun to þe house. and a greet enmye to þe lorde hym self If they be good, why should the probity of others be put to thy account? ¶ And yif þei ben goode men how shal straung[e] or foreyne goodenes ben put in þe noumbre 1248 of þi rycchesse. Upon the whole, then, none of those enjoyments which thou didst consider as thy own did ever properly belong to thee. so þat by alle þise forseide þinges. it is clerly shewed þat neuer none of þilke þinges þat þou accoumptedest for þin goodes nas nat þi goode. If they be not desirable, ¶ In þe whiche þinges yif þer be no beaute to ben desired. 1252

why shouldst thou grieve for the loss of them? whi sholdest þou be sory yif þou leese hem. or whi sholdest þou reioysen þe to holden hem. If they are fair by nature, what is that to thee? ¶ For if þei ben fair of hire owen kynde. what apperteneþ þat to þe. They would be equally agreeable whether thine or not. for as wel sholde þei han ben faire by hem self. 1256 þouȝ þei weren departid from alle þin rycchesse. They are not to be reckoned precious because they are counted amongst thy goods, but because they seemed so before thou didst desire to possess them. ¶ For-why faire ne precioũs ne weren þei nat. for þat þei comen amonges þi rycchesse. but for þei semeden fair and precious. þerfore þou haddest leuer rekene hem 1260 amonges þi rycchesse. What, then, is it we so clamorously demand of Fortune? but what desirest þou of fortune wiþ so greet a noyse and wiþ so greet a fare Is it to drive away indigence by abundance? ¶ I trowe þou seke to dryue awey nede wiþ habundaunce of þinges. But the very reverse of this happens, for there is need of many helps to keep a variety of valuable goods. ¶ But certys it turneþ to ȝow al in þe 1264 contrarie. for whi certys it nediþ of ful many[e] helpynges to kepen þe dyuersite of preciouse ostelmentȝ. They want most things who have the most. and soþe it is þat of many[e] þinges han þei nede þat many[e] þinges han. They want the fewest who measure their abundance by the necessities of nature, and not by the superfluity of their desires. and aȝeyneward of litel nediþ 1268 hem þat mesuren hir fille after þe nede of kynde and nat after þe outrage of couetyse Is there no good planted within ourselves, that we are obliged to go abroad to seek it? ¶ Is it þan so þat ye men ne han no propre goode. I-set in ȝow. For whiche ȝe moten seken outwardes ȝoure goodes in 1272 foreine and subgit þinges. Are things so changed and inverted, that god-like man should think that he has no other worth but what he derives from the possession of inanimate objects? ¶ So is þan þe condicioun of þinges turned vpso doun. þat a man þat is a devyne beest by merit of hys resoun. þinkeþ þat hym self nys neyþer fair ne noble. but if it be þoruȝ 1276 possessioun of ostelmentes. þat ne han no soules.

Inferior things are satisfied with their own endowments, while man (the image of God) seeks to adorn his nature with things infinitely below him, not understanding how much he dishonours his Maker. ¶ And certys al oþer þinges ben appaied of hire owen beautes. but ȝe men þat ben semblable to god by ȝoure resonable þouȝt desiren to apparaille ȝoure excellent 1280 kynde of þe lowest[e] pinges. ne ȝe ne vndirstonde nat how gret a wrong ȝe don to ȝoure creatour. God intended man to excel all earthly creatures, yet you debase your dignity and prerogative below the lowest beings. for he wolde þat man kynde were moost worþi and noble of any oþer erþely þinges. and ȝe þresten adoun ȝoure 1284 dignitees by-neþen þe lowest[e] þinges. In placing your happiness in despicable trifles, you acknowledge yourselves of less value than these trifles, and well do you merit to be so esteemed. ¶ For if þat al þe good of euery þing be more preciouse þan is þilk þing whos þat þe good is. syn ȝe demen þat þe foulest[e] þinges ben ȝoure goodes. þanne summytten 1288 ȝe and putten ȝoure self vndir þo foulest[e] þinges by ȝoure estimacioun. ¶ And certis þis bitidiþ nat wiþ out ȝoure desert. Man only excels other creatures when he knows himself. For certys swiche is þe condicioun of al man kynde þat oonly whan it haþ knowyng of it 1292 self. þan passeþ it in noblesse alle oþer þinges. When he ceases to do so, he sinks below beasts. and whan it forletiþ þe knowyng of it self. þan it is brouȝt byneþen alle beestes. Ignorance is natural to beasts, but in men it is unnatural and criminal. ¶ For-why alle oþer [leuynge] beestes han of kynde to knowe not hem 1296 self. but whan þat men leten þe knowyng of hem self. it comeþ hem of vice. How weak an error is it to believe that anything foreign to your nature can be an ornament to it. but how brode sheweþ þe errour and þe folie of ȝow men þat wenen þat ony þing may ben apparailled wiþ straunge apparaillementȝ ¶ but 1300 for-soþe þat may nat be don. If a thing appear beautiful on account of its external embellishments, we admire and praise those embellishments alone. for yif a wyȝt shyneþ wiþ þinges þat ben put to hym. as þus. yif þilke þinges shynen wiþ whiche a man is apparailled. ¶ Certis þilke þinges ben commendid and preised wiþ whiche 1304 he is apparailled. The thing covered still continues in its natural impurity. ¶ But naþeles þe þing þat is couered and wrapped vndir þat dwelleþ in his filþe. I deny that to be a good which is hurtful to its owner. and I denye þat þilke þing be good þat anoyeþ hym þat haþ it. Am I deceived in this? You will say no; for riches have often hurt their possessors. ¶ Gabbe I of þis. þou wolt seye nay. 1308 ¶ Certys rycchesse han anoyed ful ofte hem þat han þe rycchesse. Every wicked man desires another’s wealth, and esteems him alone happy who is in possession of riches. ¶ Syn þat euery wicked shrew and for hys wickednesse þe more gredy aftir oþer folkes rycchesse wher so euer it be in any place. be it golde or 1312 precious stones. [* fol. 13.] and weniþ hym *only most worþi þat haþ hem You, therefore, who now so much dread the instruments of assassination, if you had been born a poor wayfaring man, might, with an empty purse, have sung in the face of robbers. ¶ þou þan þat so besy dredest now þe swerde and þe spere. yif þou haddest entred in þe paþe of þis lijf a voide wayfaryng man. þan woldest þou syng[e] 1316 by-fore þe þeef. ¶ As who seiþ a poure man þat bereþ no rycchesse on hym by þe weye. may boldly syng[e] byforne þeues. for he haþ nat wher-of to ben robbed. O the transcendant felicity of riches! No sooner have you obtained them, than you cease to be secure. ¶ O preciouse and ryȝt clere is þe blysfulnesse of 1320 mortal rycchesse. þat whan þou hast geten it. þan hast þou lorn þi syke[r]nesse.

Blysful was Happy was the first age of men. They were contented with what the faithful earth produced. þe first age of men. þei helden hem apaied wiþ þe metes þat þe trewe erþes brouȝten 1324 furþe. ¶ þei ne destroyed[e] ne desceyued[e] not hem self wiþ outerage. With acorns they satisfied their hunger. ¶ þei weren wont lyȝtly to slaken her hunger at euene wiþ acornes of okes They knew not Hypocras nor Hydromel. ¶ þei ne couþe nat medle þe ȝift of bacus to þe clere hony. 1328 þat is to seyn. þei couþe make no piment of clarre. They did not dye the Serian fleece in Tyrian purple. ne þei couþe nat medle þe briȝt[e] flies of þe contre of siriens wiþ þe venym of tirie. þis is to seyne. þei couþe nat dien white flies of sirien contre wiþ þe 1332 blode of a manar shelfysshe. þat men fynden in tyrie. wiþ whiche blode men deien purper. They slept upon the grass, and drank of the running stream, and reclined under the shadow of the tall pine. ¶ þei slepen holesom slepes vpon þe gras. and dronken of þe rynnyng watres. and laien vndir þe shadowe of þe heyȝe 1336 pyne trees. No man yet ploughed the deep, nor did the merchant traffick with foreign shores. ¶ Ne no gest ne no straunger [ne] karf ȝit þe heye see wiþ oores or wiþ shippes. ne þei ne hadden seyne ȝitte none newe strondes to leden merchaundyse in to dyuerse contres. The warlike trumpet was hushed and still. ¶ þo weren þe cruel 1340 clariouns ful whist and ful stille. Bloodshed had not yet arisen through hateful quarrels. ne blode yshed by egre hate ne hadde nat deied ȝit armurers. Nothing could stimulate their rage to engage in war, when they saw that wounds and scars were the only meeds. for wherto or whiche woodenesse of enmys wolde first moeuen armes. whan þei seien cruel woundes ne none medes 1344 ben of blood yshad O that those days would come again! ¶ I wolde þat oure tymes sholde turne aȝeyne to þe oolde maneres. The thirst of wealth torments all; it rages more fiercely than Ætna’s fires. ¶ But þe anguissous loue of hauyng brenneþ in folke moore cruely þan þe fijr of þe Mountaigne of Ethna þat euer brenneþ. 1348 Cursed be the wretch who first brought gold to light. ¶ Allas what was he þat first dalf vp þe gobets or þe weyȝtys of gold couered vndir erþe. and þe precious stones þat wolden han ben hid. he dalf vp precious perils. þat is to seyne þat he þat hem first vp dalf. he 1352 dalf vp a precious peril. It has since proved perilous to many a man. for-whi. for þe preciousnesse of swyche haþ many man ben in peril.

Virtue is not embellished by dignities, but dignities derive honour from virtue. ¶ And þerfore it is þus þat honour ne comeþ nat to vertue for cause of dignite. but aȝeinward. honour comeþ to dignite by cause of vertue. But what is this power, so much celebrated and desired? but whiche is 1376 ȝoure derworþe power þat is so clere and so requerable What are they over whom you exercise authority? ¶ O ȝe erþelyche bestes considere ȝe nat ouer whiche þing þat it semeþ þat ȝe han power. If thou sawest a mouse assuming command over other mice, wouldst thou not almost burst with laughter? ¶ Now yif þou [* fol. 13 b.] say[e] a mouse amongus *oþer myse þat chalenged[e] to 1380 hymself ward ryȝt and power ouer alle oþer myse. how gret scorne woldest þou han of hit. ¶ Glosa. ¶ So fareþ it by men. þe body haþ power ouer þe body. What is more feeble than man, to whom the bite of a fly may be the cause of death? For yif þow loke wel vpon þe body of a wyȝt what 1384 þing shalt þou fynde moore frele þan is mannes kynde. þe whiche ben ful ofte slayn wiþ bytynge of smale flies. or ellys wiþ þe entryng of crepyng wormes in to þe priuetees of mennes bodyes. But how can any man obtain dominion over another, unless it be over his body, or, what is inferior to his body,—over his possessions, the gifts of Fortune? ¶ But wher shal 1388 men fynden any man þat may exercen or haunten any ryȝt vpon an oþer man but oonly vpon hys body. or ellys vpon þinges þat ben lower þen þe body. whiche I clepe fortunous possessiouns Can you ever command a freeborn soul? ¶ Mayst þou euer haue 1392 any comaundement ouer a fre corage Can you disturb a soul consistent with itself, and knit together by the bond of reason? ¶ Mayst þou remuen fro þe estat of hys propre reste. a þouȝt þat is cleuyng to gider in hym self by stedfast resoun. ¶ As somtyme a tiraunt wende to confounde a freeman of 1396 corage ¶ And wende to constreyne hym by tourment to maken hym dyscoueren and acusen folk þat wisten of a coniuracioun. whiche I clepe a confederacie þat was cast aȝeins þis tyraunt Have you not read how Anaxarchus bit off his tongue and spat it in the face of Nicocreon? ¶ But þis free man boot 1400 of hys owen tunge. and cast it in þe visage of þilke woode tyraunte. ¶ So þat þe tourmentȝ þat þis tyraunt wende to han maked matere of cruelte. þis wyse man maked[e it] matere of vertues. What is it that one man can do to another that does not admit of retaliation? ¶ But what 1404 þing is it þat a man may don to an oþer man. þat he ne may receyue þe same þing of oþer folke in hym self. or þus. ¶ What may a man don to folk. þat folk ne may don hym þe same. Busiris used to kill his guests, but at last himself was killed by Hercules, his guest. ¶ I haue herd told of 1408 busirides þat was wont to sleen hys gestes þat herburghden in hys hous. and he was slayn hym self of ercules þat was hys gest Regulus put his Carthaginian prisoners in chains, but was afterwards obliged to submit to the fetters of his enemies. ¶ Regulus had[de] taken in bataile many men of affrike. and cast hem in to fetteres. 1412 but sone after he most[e] ȝiue hys handes to ben bounden with þe cheynes of hem þat he had[de] somtyme ouercomen. Is he mighty that dares not inflict what he would upon another for fear of a requital? ¶ Wenest þou þan þat he be myȝty. þat may nat don a þing. þat oþer ne may don 1416 hym. þat he doþ to oþer. If powers and honours were intrinsically good, they would never be attained by the wicked. and ȝit more ouer yif it so were þat þise dignites or poweres hadden any propre or naturel goodnesse in hem self neuer nolden þei comen to shrewes. An union of things opposite is repugnant to nature. ¶ For contrarious þinges ne ben 1420 not wont to ben yfelawshiped togidres. ¶ Nature refuseþ þat contra[r]ious þinges ben yioigned. But as wicked men do obtain the highest honours, it is clear that honours are not in themselves good, otherwise they would not fall to the share of the unworthy. ¶ And so as I am in certeyne þat ryȝt wikked folk han dignitees ofte tymes. þan sheweþ it wel þat dignitees and powers 1424 ne ben not goode of hir owen kynde. syn þat þei suffren hem self to cleuen or ioynen hem to shrewes. The worst of men have often the largest share of Fortune’s gifts. ¶ And certys þe same þing may most digneliche Iugen and seyen of alle þe ȝiftis of fortune þat most plenteuously 1428 comen to shrewes. We judge him to be valiant who has given evidence of his fortitude. ¶ Of þe whiche ȝiftys I trowe þat it auȝt[e] ben considered þat no man doutiþ þat he nis strong. in whom he seeþ strengþe. and in whom þat swiftnesse is ¶ Soþe it is þat he is swyfte. 1432 So music maketh a musician, &c. Also musyk makeþ musiciens. and fysik makeþ phisiciens. and rethorik rethoriens. The nature of everything consists in doing what is peculiar to itself, and it repels what is contrary to it. ¶ For whi þe nature of euery þing makiþ his propretee. ne it is nat entermedled wiþ þe effectis of contrarious þinges. 1436

¶ And as of wil it chaseþ oute þinges þat to it ben contrarie Riches cannot restrain avarice. Power cannot make a man master of himself if he is the slave of his lusts. ¶ But certys rycchesse may nat restreyne auarice vnstaunched ¶ Ne power [ne] makeþ nat a man myȝty ouer hym self. whiche þat vicious lustis 1440 holden destreined wiþ cheins þat ne mowen nat ben vnbounden. Dignities conferred upon base men do not make them worthy, but rather expose their want of merit. and dignitees þat ben ȝeuen to shrewed[e] folk nat oonly ne makiþ hem nat digne. but it sheweþ raþer al openly þat þei ben vnworþi and vndigne. 1444 Why is it so? ’Tis because you give false names to things. You dignify riches, power, and honours, with names they have no title to. ¶ And whi is it þus. ¶ Certis for ȝe han ioye to clepen þinges wiþ fals[e] names. þat beren hem al in þe contrarie. þe whiche names ben ful ofte reproued by þe effect of þe same þinges. [* fol. 14.] so þat *þise ilke rycchesse 1448 ne auȝten nat by ryȝt to ben cleped rycchesse. ne whiche power ne auȝt[e] not ben cleped power. ne whiche dignitee ne auȝt[e] nat ben cleped dignitee. In fine, the same may be said of all the gifts of Fortune, in which nothing is desirable, nothing of natural good in them, since they are not always allotted to good men, nor make them good to whom they are attached. ¶ And at þe laste I may conclude þe same þinge of 1452 al þe ȝiftes of fortune in whiche þer nis no þing to ben desired. ne þat haþ in hym self naturel bounte. ¶ as it is ful wel sene. for neyþer þei ne ioygnen hem nat alwey to goode men. ne maken hem alwey 1456 goode to whom þei ben y-ioigned.

WE han wel We know what ruin Nero did. knowen how many greet[e] harmes and destrucciouns weren doñ by þe Emperoure Nero. He burnt Rome, he slew the conscript fathers, murdered his brother, and spilt his mother’s blood. ¶ He letee brenne þe citee of Rome and made slen þe 1460 senatours. and he cruel somtyme slouȝ hys broþer. and he was maked moyst wiþ þe blood of hys modir. þat is to seyn he let sleen and slitten þe body of his modir to seen where he was conceiued. He looked unmoved upon his mother’s corpse, and passed judgment upon her beauty. and he loked[e] on euery 1464 half vpon hir colde dede body. ne no tere ne wette his face. but he was so hard herted þat he myȝt[e] ben domesman or Iuge of hire dede beaute. Yet this parricide ruled over all lands, illumined by the sun in his diurnal course, and controlled the frozen regions of the pole. ¶ And ȝitte neuerþeles gouerned[e] þis Nero by Ceptre al þe peoples 1468 þat phebus þe sonne may seen comyng from his outerest arysyng til he hidde his bemes vndir þe wawes. ¶ þat is to seyne. he gouerned[e] alle þe peoples by Ceptre imperial þat þe sonne goþ aboute from est to west ¶ And 1472 eke þis Nero goueyrende by Ceptre. alle þe peoples þat ben vndir þe colde sterres þat hyȝten þe seuene triones. þis is to seyn he gouerned[e] alle þe poeples þat ben vndir þe parties of þe norþe. He governed, too, the people in the torrid zone. ¶ And eke Nero gouerned[e] 1476 alle þe poeples þat þe violent wynde Nothus scorchiþ and bakiþ þe brennynge sandes by his drie hete. þat is to seyne. alle þe poeples in þe souþe. But yet Nero’s power could not tame his ferocious mind. [but yit ne myhte nat al his heye power torne the woodnesse of 1480 this wykkyd nero / It is a grievous thing when power strengthens the arm of him whose will prompts him to deeds of cruelty. Allas it is greuous fortune it is]. as ofte as wicked swerde is ioygned to cruel venym. þat is to sein. venimous cruelte to lordshipe.

ÞAnne seide I B. Thou knowest that I did not covet mortal and transitory things. þus. þou wost wel þiself þat þe 1484 couetise of mortal þinges ne hadden neuer lordshipe of me. but I haue wel desired matere of þinges to done. as who seiþ. I only wished to exercise my virtue in public concerns, lest it should grow feeble by inactivity. I desired[e] to han matere of gouernaunce ouer comunalites. ¶ For vertue stille ne 1488 sholde not elden. þat is to seyn. þat list þat or he wex olde ¶ His uertue þat lay now ful stille. ne sholde nat perisshe vnexcercised in gouernaunce of comune. ¶ For whiche men myȝten speke or writen of his 1492 goode gouernement. P. A love of glory is one of those things that may captivate minds naturally great, but not yet arrived at the perfection of virtue. ¶ Philosophie. ¶ For soþe quod she. and þat is a þing þat may drawen to gouernaunce swiche hertes as ben worþi and noble of hir nature. but naþeles it may nat drawen or tollen swiche hertes as 1496 ben y-brouȝt to þe ful[le] perfeccioun of vertue. þat is to seyn couetyse of glorie and renoun to han wel administred þe comune þinges. or doon goode decertes to profit of þe comune. But consider how small and void of weight is that glory. for se now and considere how 1500 litel and how voide of al prise is þilke glorie. Astronomy teaches us that this globe of earth is but a speck compared with the extent of the heavens, and is as nothing if compared with the magnitude of the celestial sphere. ¶ Certeine þing is as þou hast lerned by demonstracioun of astronomye þat al þe envyronynge of þe erþe aboute ne halt but þe resoun of a prykke at regard of þe gretnesse 1504 of heuene. þat is to seye. þat yif þat þer were maked comparisoun of þe erþe to þe gretnesse of heuene. men wolde Iugen in alle þat erþe [ne] helde no space Ptolemy shows that only one-fourth of this earth is inhabited by living creatures. ¶ Of þe whiche litel regioun of þis worlde 1508 þe ferþe partie is enhabitid wiþ lyuyng beestes þat we knowen. as þou hast þi self lerned by tholome þat prouitħ it. Deduct from this the space occupied by seas, marshes, lakes, and deserts, and there remains but a small proportion left for the abode of man. ¶ yif þou haddest wiþ drawen and abated in þi þouȝte fro þilke ferþe partie as myche space as þe 1512 see and [the] mareys contenen and ouergon and as myche space as þe regioun of droughte ouerstreccheþ.

þat is to seye sandes and desertes wel vnneþ sholde [* fol. 14 b.] *þer dwellen a ryȝt streite place to þe habitacioun of 1516 men. And do you, who are confined to the least point of this point, think of nothing but of blazing far and wide your name and reputation? and ȝe þan þat ben environed and closed wiþ inne þe leest[e] prikke of þilk prikke þenke ȝe to manifesten ȝoure renoun and don ȝoure name to ben born forþe. What is there great in a glory so circumscribed? but ȝoure glorie þat is so narwe and so 1520 streyt yþrongen in to so litel boundes. how myche conteinþe it in largesse and in greet doynge. Even in this contracted circle, there is a great variety of nations, to whom not only the fame of particular men, but even of great cities, cannot extend. And also sette þis þer to þat many a nacioun dyuerse of tonge and of maneres. and eke of resoun of hir lyuyng ben 1524 enhabitid in þe cloos of þilke litel habitacle. ¶ To þe whiche naciouns what for difficulte of weyes. and what for diuersite of langages. and what for defaute of vnusage entercomunynge of marchaundise. nat only þe 1528 names of singler men ne may [nat] strecchen. but eke þe fame of Citees ne may nat strecchen. In the time of Marcus Tullius the fame of Rome did not reach beyond Mount Caucasus. ¶ At þe last[e] Certis in þe tyme of Marcus tulyus as hym self writeþ in his book þat þe renoun of þe comune of 1532 Rome ne hadde nat ȝitte passed ne cloumben ouer þe mountaigne þat hyȝt Caucasus. and ȝitte was þilk tyme rome wel wexen and gretly redouted of þe parthes. and eke of oþer folk enhabityng aboute. How narrow, then, is that glory which you labour to propagate. ¶ Sest þou 1536 nat þan how streit and how compressed is þilke glorie þat ȝe trauailen aboute to shew and to multiplie. Shall the glory of a Roman citizen reach those places where the name even of Rome was never heard? May þan þe glorie of a singlere Romeyne strecchen þider as þe fame of þe name of Rome may nat clymben ne 1540 passen. Customs and institutions differ in different countries. ¶ And eke sest þou nat þat þe maners of diuerse folk and eke hir lawes ben discordaunt amonge hem self. What is praise-worthy in one is blame-worthy in another. so þat þilke þing þat sommen iugen worþi of preysynge. oþer folk iugen þat it is worþi of torment. 1544 It is not the interest of any man who desires renown to have his name spread through many countries.