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With fervent hert my brest hath broft on fire,
L'ardant espoer en mon caur point eft mort,
D'avoir l'amour de celle que je defire,
I menè you swete moste plesaunt of porte,
Et je fcay bien que ce n'est pas mon tort,
That for you fyng so as I maie for mone,
For your deparcyng alone I live alone.

Though that I might I would none othir chese,
In your service I would ben foundin sadde,
Therefore I love no labour that ye lese,
When that in longyng forist ye be stadde ;
Loke up you loviris and be right gladde,
Now ayenit Sainct Valentin'is daie,
For I have chefe that ner forsake I Inaie. 245



Balade de bon confail.

Ir it befall that God the list visite
With any tourment or adverfite
Thanke firste the Lorde, and tho thy felfe to quite
Upon suffèraunce and humilite
Founde thou thy quaril, what er that it be,
Make thy defence, and thou halt have no loffe,
The remembraunce of Christ and of his crosse.



SOMTOME the worlde so stedfast was and fables
That manne's worde was an obligacioun,
And now it is so false and discevable,
That worde and dede, as in conclufioun,
Is nothyng like, for tourned is up fo doun
All the worlde, thorough mede and fikilneffe,
That all is lofte for lacke of stedfastneile.

What maketh the worlde to be so variable
But lust that men have in difcenfion?
For emong us a man is holde unable
But if he can by fome collusions ,
Doe his neighbour wrong and oppreffion ::
What causith this but wilfull wretchidnefie?
That all is loke for lacke of stedfastneffe.

14 Trouthe is put doune, reson is holde fable, Vertue hath now no dominacion, Pitie 'is exiled, no man is merciable, Through covetise is blente discrecion; The worlde hath made a permutacion Fro right to wrong, fro trouthe to fikilneffe, That all is lofte for lacke of stedfastnefie.

L'envoye'. :: Prince, aye desire to be honourable, Cherishe thy folke, and hate extorcion; Suffre nothyng that maie be reprovable To thine estate doen in thy region; Shewe forthe the yerde of castigacion; Drede God, do law, love treuth and worthines, And wedde thy folke ayen to stedfastnesse. 28


21 8

Balade of the village without paintyng.

Plaintife to Fortune.
This wretchid world'is transmutacion,
As wele and wo, nowe pore and now honour,
Without ordir or due discrecion,
Govirnid is by Fortun'is errour,
But nathèlefle the lacke of her favour
Ne maie not doe me fyng though that I die,
Y'ay tout perdu mon temps et mon labeur,
For finally Fortune I doe defie.

Yet is me left the light of my resoun
To knowin frende fro foe in thy mirrour,
So moche hath yet thy tournyng up and doun
Itaughtin me to knowin in an hour,
But truly no force of thy reddour
To hym chai ovir hyn:self hath mailtrie;
My fuffifaunce ysal be my succour,
For finally Fortune I do defie.

Socrates! thou stedfast champion,
She ne might nevir he thy turmentour,
Thou nevir dreddist her oppression,
Nein her chere foundin thou no favour;
Thou knewe wele the disceipt of her colour,
And that her mosle worship is for to lie;
I knowe her cke a false diflimulour,
For finally Fortune I do dehe.
Volume XIII.





The answere of Fortune.
No man is wretchid but hymself it wene;
He that yhath hymself hath fuffifaunce,
Why laiest thou then I am to the fo kene,
That haft thy self out of my govirnannce ?
Saie thus, graunt mercie of thin habundaunce,
That thou haft lent or this, thou shalt not strive;
What wofl thou yet how I the woll avaunce ?
sind eke thou hast thy beftè frende alive. 32

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


have I refused to sustene
Sith I have the foftrid 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 hast thy beftè 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, let 'hem go lie a presie;
The nigardis in kepyng ther richesse
Pronoflike is thou wolt ther toure assaile;
Wicke appetite cometh aie before fickenesse;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.

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

Tbe plairtiffe.
Lo!the' execucion of the majestic
That all purveighith of his rightwiseneffe,
famè thyng

rtune yclepin ye,
Ye blindè beftis, full of leudèness!
The heven hath propirtie of fikirness,
This worldè hath evir reftlefsc travaile,
The last daie is the ende of myne entresse;
In generall this rule ne maie not faile.

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



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