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'Go bye a courser, blak or whyte,
And pay therfor; than art thou quyte.
The marchaunt oweth thee right nought, 5905
Ne thou him, whan thou [hast] it bought.
I wol not selling clepe yeving,
For selling axeth no guerdoning;
Here lyth no thank, ne no meryte,
That oon goth from that other al quyte. 5910
But this selling is not semblable;
For, whan his hors is in the stable,
He may it selle ageyn, pardee,
And winne on it, such hap may be;
Al may the man not lese, y-wis, 5915
For at the leest the skin is his.
Or elles, if it so bityde
That he wol kepe his hors to ryde,
Yit is he lord ay of his hors.
But thilke chaffare is wel wors, 5920
There Venus entremeteth nought;
For who-so such chaffare hath bought,
He shal not worchen so wysly,
That he ne shal lese al outerly
Bothe his money and his chaffare; 5925
But the seller of the ware
The prys and profit have shal.
Certeyn, the byer shal lese al;
For he ne can so dere it bye
To have lordship and ful maistrye, 5930
Ne have power to make letting
Neither for yift ne for preching,
That of his chaffare, maugre his,
Another shal have as moche, y-wis,
If he wol yeve as moche as he, 5935
Of what contrey so that he be;
Or for right nought, so happe may,
If he can flater hir to hir pay.
Ben than suche marchaunts wyse?
No, but fooles in every wyse, 5940
Whan they bye such thing wilfully,
Ther-as they lese her good [fully].
But natheles, this dar I saye,
My modir is not wont to paye,
For she is neither so fool ne nyce, 5945
To entremete hir of sich vyce.
But truste wel, he shal paye al,
That repente of his bargeyn shal,
Whan Poverte put him in distresse,
Al were he scoler to Richesse, 5950
That is for me in gret yerning,
Whan she assenteth to my willing.
'But, [by] my modir seint Venus,
And by hir fader Saturnus,
That hir engendrid by his lyf, 5955
But not upon his weddid wyf!
Yit wol I more unto you swere,
To make this thing the seurere;
Now by that feith, and that leautee
I owe to alle my brethren free, 5960
Of which ther nis wight under heven
That can her fadris names neven,
So dyvers and so many ther be
That with my modir have be privee!
Yit wolde I swere, for sikirnesse, 5965
The pole of helle to my witnesse,
Now drinke I not this yeer clarree,
If that I lye, or forsworn be!
(For of the goddes the usage is,
That who-so him forswereth amis, 5970
Shal that yeer drinke no clarree).
Now have I sworn y-nough, pardee;
If I forswere me, than am I lorn,
But I wol never be forsworn.
Sith Richesse hath me failed here, 5975
She shal abye that trespas dere,
At leeste wey, but [she] hir arme
With swerd, or sparth, or gisarme.
For certes, sith she loveth not me,
Fro thilke tyme that she may see 5980
The castel and the tour to-shake,
In sory tyme she shal awake.
If I may grype a riche man,
I shal so pulle him, if I can,
That he shal, in a fewe stoundes, 5985
Lese alle his markes and his poundes.
I shal him make his pens outslinge,
But-[if] they in his gerner springe;
Our maydens shal eek plukke him so,
That him shal neden fetheres mo, 5990
And make him selle his lond to spende,
But he the bet cunne him defende.
'Pore men han maad hir lord of me;
Although they not so mighty be,
That they may fede me in delyt, 5995
I wol not have hem in despyt.
No good man hateth hem, as I gesse,
For chinche and feloun is Richesse,
That so can chase hem and dispyse,
And hem defoule in sondry wyse. 6000
They loven ful bet, so god me spede,
Than doth the riche, chinchy grede,
And been, in good feith, more stable
And trewer, and more serviable;
And therfore it suffysith me 6005
Hir goode herte, and hir leautee.
They han on me set al hir thought,
And therfore I forgete hem nought.
I wolde hem bringe in greet noblesse,
If that I were god of Richesse, 6010
As I am god of Love, sothly,
Such routhe upon hir pleynt have I.
Therfore I must his socour be,
That peyneth him to serven me;
For if he deyde for love of this, 6015
Than semeth in me no love ther is. '
'Sir,' seide they, 'sooth is, every del,
That ye reherce, and we wot wel
Thilk oth to holde is resonable;
For it is good and covenable, 6020
That ye on riche men han sworn.
For, sir, this wot we wel biforn;
If riche men doon you homage,
That is as fooles doon outrage;
But ye shul not forsworen be, 6025
Ne let therfore to drinke clarree,
Or piment maked fresh and newe.
Ladyes shulle hem such pepir brewe,
If that they falle into hir laas,
That they for we mowe seyn "Allas! " 6030
Ladyes shuln ever so curteis be,
That they shal quyte your oth al free.
Ne seketh never other vicaire,
For they shal speke with hem so faire
That ye shal holde you payed ful wel, 6035
Though ye you medle never a del.