Incipit Liber Septimus. (continued 3)

Of this merveile which thei sihe So apparant tofore here yhe, Of that the king him hath misbore, Here othes thei have alle swore 5280 That thei wol stonde be the riht. And thus of on acord upriht To Rome at ones hom ayein Thei torne, and schortly forto sein, This tirannye cam to mouthe, And every man seith what he couthe, So that the prive tricherie, Which set was upon lecherie, Cam openly to mannes Ere; And that broghte in the comun feere, 5290 That every man the peril dradde Of him that so hem overladde. Forthi, er that it worse falle, Thurgh comun conseil of hem alle Thei have here wrongfull king deposed, And hem in whom it was supposed The conseil stod of his ledinge Be lawe unto the dom thei bringe, Wher thei receiven the penance That longeth to such governance. 5300 And thus thunchaste was chastised, Wherof thei myhte ben avised That scholden afterward governe, And be this evidence lerne, Hou it is good a king eschuie The lust of vice and vertu suie.

To make an ende in this partie, Which toucheth to the Policie Of Chastite in special, As for conclusion final 5310 That every lust is to eschue Be gret ensample I mai argue: Hou in Rages a toun of Mede Ther was a Mayde, and as I rede, Sarra sche hihte, and Raguel Hir fader was; and so befell, Of bodi bothe and of visage Was non so fair of the lignage, To seche among hem alle, as sche; Wherof the riche of the cite, 5320 Of lusti folk that couden love, Assoted were upon hire love, And asken hire forto wedde. On was which ate laste spedde, Bot that was more for likinge, To have his lust, than for weddinge, As he withinne his herte caste, Which him repenteth ate laste. For so it fell the ferste nyht, That whanne he was to bedde dyht, 5330 As he which nothing god besecheth Bot al only hise lustes secheth, Abedde er he was fully warm And wolde have take hire in his Arm, Asmod, which was a fend of helle, And serveth, as the bokes telle, To tempte a man of such a wise, Was redy there, and thilke emprise, Which he hath set upon delit, He vengeth thanne in such a plit, 5340 That he his necke hathe writhe atuo. This yonge wif was sory tho, Which wiste nothing what it mente; And natheles yit thus it wente Noght only of this ferste man, Bot after, riht as he began, Sexe othre of hire housebondes Asmod hath take into hise bondes, So that thei alle abedde deiden, Whan thei her hand toward hir leiden, 5350 Noght for the lawe of Mariage, Bot for that ilke fyri rage In which that thei the lawe excede: For who that wolde taken hiede What after fell in this matiere, Ther mihte he wel the sothe hiere. Whan sche was wedded to Thobie, And Raphael in compainie Hath tawht him hou to ben honeste, Asmod wan noght at thilke feste, 5360 And yit Thobie his wille hadde; For he his lust so goodly ladde, That bothe lawe and kinde is served, Wherof he hath himself preserved, That he fell noght in the sentence. O which an open evidence Of this ensample a man mai se, That whan likinge in the degre Of Mariage mai forsueie, Wel oghte him thanne in other weie 5370 Of lust to be the betre avised. For god the lawes hath assissed Als wel to reson as to kinde, Bot he the bestes wolde binde Only to lawes of nature, Bot to the mannes creature God yaf him reson forth withal, Wherof that he nature schal Upon the causes modefie, That he schal do no lecherie, 5380 And yit he schal hise lustes have. So ben the lawes bothe save And every thing put out of sclandre; As whilom to king Alisandre The wise Philosophre tawhte, Whan he his ferste lore cawhte, Noght only upon chastete, Bot upon alle honestete; Wherof a king himself mai taste, Hou trewe, hou large, hou joust, hou chaste 5390 Him oghte of reson forto be, Forth with the vertu of Pite, Thurgh which he mai gret thonk deserve Toward his godd, that he preserve Him and his poeple in alle welthe Of pes, richesse, honour and helthe Hier in this world and elles eke.

Mi Sone, as we tofore spieke In schrifte, so as thou me seidest, And for thin ese, as thou me preidest, 5400 Thi love throghes forto lisse, That I thee wolde telle and wisse The forme of Aristotles lore, I have it seid, and somdiel more Of othre ensamples, to assaie If I thi peines myhte allaie Thurgh eny thing that I can seie.

Do wey, mi fader, I you preie: Of that ye have unto me told I thonke you a thousendfold. 5410 The tales sounen in myn Ere, Bot yit min herte is elleswhere, I mai miselve noght restreigne, That I nam evere in loves peine: Such lore couthe I nevere gete, Which myhte make me foryete O point, bot if so were I slepte, That I my tydes ay ne kepte To thenke of love and of his lawe; That herte can I noght withdrawe. 5420 Forthi, my goode fader diere, Lef al and speke of my matiere Touchende of love, as we begonne: If that ther be oght overronne Or oght foryete or left behinde Which falleth unto loves kinde, Wherof it nedeth to be schrive, Nou axeth, so that whil I live I myhte amende that is mys.

Mi goode diere Sone, yis. 5430 Thi schrifte forto make plein, Ther is yit more forto sein Of love which is unavised. Bot for thou schalt be wel avised Unto thi schrifte as it belongeth, A point which upon love hongeth And is the laste of alle tho, I wol thee telle, and thanne ho.

Explicit Liber Septimus.