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The answere of Fortune.
No man is wretchid but hymself it wene;
He that yhath hymfelf hath fuffifaunce,
Why laiest thou then I am to the fo kene,
That haft thy self out of my govirnavnce?
Saie thus, graunt mercie of thin habundaunce,
That thou haft lent or this, thou shalt not strive;
What woll thou yet how I the woll avaunce?
rind eke thou haft thy beftè frende alive.

I have the taught division betwene
Frende of effecte and frende of countinaunce,
The nedith not the gallè of an hine,
That curith eyin der ke for ther pe naunce,
Now feelt thou clere that wer in ignoraunce;
Yet holt thine anker, and thou maiest arive
There Bountie bereth the key of my substaunce,
And eke thou haste thy beftè frende alive. 40

How many have I refused to fuítene
Sith I have the fufrid in thy plesaunce?
Wolt thou then make a statute on thy quene,
That I shall be aie at thine ordinaunce?
Thou born art in my reign of variaunce;
About the whele with othir must thou drive;
My lore is bet, then wicke is thy grevaunce,
And eke thou haft thy bestè frende alive.

The answere to Fortune.
Thy lore I dampne, it is adversitie;
My frend maist thou not revin, blind goddesse :


That I thy frendis knowe I thanke it the;
Take 'hem again, Jet 'hem go lie a presse;
The nigardis in kepyng ther richesse
Pronostike is thou wolt ther toure assaile;
Wicke appetite cometh aie before fickenesse;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.

Thou pivchilt at my mutabilitie,
For I the lent a droppe of my richesse,
And now me likith to withdrawin me
Why shouldist thou my roialtie oppresse?
The se maie ebbe and flowin more and lesse,
The welkin hath might to shine, rain, and haile,
Right so must I kithin my brotilnesse;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.

The plaintiffe.
Lo! the execucion of the majestie
That all purveighith of his rightwiseneffe,
That same thyng Fortune yclepin yé,
Ye blindè bestis, full of leudèness!
The heven hath propirtie of fikirness,
This worldè hath evir restlesse travaile,
The last daie is the ende of myne entresse;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.

Thenvoye of Fortune.
Princes, 1 praie you of your gentilnelle,
Let not this man and me thus crie and plain,
And I Mall quitin you this businesse;



And if ye life releve hym of his pain
Praie ye his best frende of his noblenesse
That to some bettir state he maie attain.



To brokin ben the statutes hie in heven
That create were eternally t'endure,
Sith that I fe the brightè goddis seven
Mowe wepe and waile and passion endurc,
As maie in yerth a mortall crcäture;
Alas! fro whenis maie this thing procede,
Of whiche errour I die almofte for drede?

By words eterne whilom was it yshape
That fro the fifth circle in no manere
Ne might of teris nothing doune escape,
But now so wepith Venus in her sphere
That with her teris she woll drench us here:
Alas, Scogan! this is for thine offence;
Thoucaufill this deluge of pestilence.

14 Hast thou not faied in blafpheme of the goddis, Through pride or thorough thy gret rekilnes, Soche thinges as in the law of Love forbode is, That for thy ladie sawe not thy diftresse Therefore thou yave her up at Mighelmesse? Alas, Scogan! of oldè folke ne yong Was nevir erst Scogan blamed for his tong.

Thou drewe in scorne Cupide eke to recorde Of thilke rebell worde that thou haft spoken, For whiche he woll no lengir be thy lorde ;


And, Scogan, though his bowe be not ybroken
He woll not with his arowes be iwroken
On thee ne me, ne none of our figure;
We fall of hym have neithir hurte ne cure. 23

Now certis, frende, I drede of thine unhappe,
Left for thy gilte the wreche of Love procede
On all 'hem that ben hore and round of shap,
That be so likely folkè for to spede,
Then we fhall of our labour have our mede;
But well I wot thou wolt answere and saie,
Lo! oldè Grifill list to renae and plaie.

Naie, Scogan, saie not so, for I me' excuse,
God helpe me so, in no rime doutiles,
Ne thinke I nevir of slepe wake my Muse,
That rustith in my sheth ftill and in pese;
While I was yong I put her forthe in prese,
But al shall paslin that men prose or rime,
That every man his tourne as for his tyme. 4%

Scogan, thou knelist at the strem'is hedde Of grace, of honour, and of worthinesle, In the ende of whiche lam dull as desde, Forgotten in solitarie wildirnesse; Yet, Scogan, thinke on Tullius kindenesle, Mynd thy frendè there it maie fructifie; Farwell, and loke thou ner eft Love defie. 49


Go forthe, kyng, and rule the by fapience;
Bishoppe, be able to miniftir doctrine ;
Lorde, to true counfaile yeve thou audience;
Womanhode, to chastitie er encline;
Knight, let thy dedis worship determine;
Be rightous, judge, in savyng of thy name;
Rich, do almose, left thou lese blisse with same; 7

Peple, obei your kyng and eke the lawe;
Age, be rulid by gode religion;
True servaunt, be dredfull, kepe the’ undir awe;
And thou, povir, fie on presumpcion;
Inobedience to youth is uttir destruccion :
Remembir you how God hath set you, lo!
And doe your parte as ye be ordained to.


Chaucer to his emptie purse.
To you my purse, and to none othir wight,
Complain I, for ye be my ladie dere;
I am forie now that ye be so light,
For certis ye now make me hevie chere;
Me were as lefe be laide upon a bere,
For whiche unto your mercy chus I crie,
Be hevy againe, or els mote I die.

Nowe vouchsafir this day or it be night
That I of you the blisful sowne may here,
Or se your colour lyke the funnè bright,


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