No More Learning

_ 'Sir, the first vertue, certeyn,
The gretest, and most sovereyn
That may be founde in any man,
For having, or for wit he can, 7510
That is, his tonge to refreyne;
Therto ought every wight him peyne.
For it is better stille be
Than for to speken harm, pardee!
And he that herkeneth it gladly, 7515
He is no good man, sikerly.
And, sir, aboven al other sinne,
In that art thou most gilty inne.
Thou spake a Iape not long ago,
(And, sir, that was right yvel do) 7520
Of a yong man that here repaired,
And never yet this place apaired.
Thou seydest he awaited nothing
But to disceyve Fair-Welcoming.
Ye seyde nothing sooth of that; 7525
But, sir, ye lye; I tell you plat;
He ne cometh no more, ne goth, pardee!
I trow ye shal him never see.
Fair-Welcoming in prison is,
That ofte hath pleyed with you, er this, 7530
The fairest games that he coude,
Withoute filthe, stille or loude;
Now dar [he] nat [him]self solace.
Ye han also the man do chace,
That he dar neither come ne go. 7535
What meveth you to hate him so
But properly your wikked thought,
That many a fals lesing hath thought?
That meveth your foole eloquence,
That iangleth ever in audience, 7540
And on the folk areyseth blame,
And doth hem dishonour and shame,
For thing that may have no preving,
But lyklinesse, and contriving.
For I dar seyn, that Reson demeth, 7545
It is not al sooth thing that semeth,
And it is sinne to controve
Thing that is [for] to reprove;
This wot ye wel; and, sir, therefore
Ye arn to blame [wel] the more. 7550
And, nathelesse, he rekketh lyte;
He yeveth nat now thereof a myte;
For if he thoughte harm, parfay,
He wolde come and gon al day;
He coude him-selfe nat abstene. 7555
Now cometh he nat, and that is sene,
For he ne taketh of it no cure,
But-if it be through aventure,
And lasse than other folk, algate.
And thou here watchest at the gate, 7560
With spere in thyne arest alway;
There muse, musard, al the day.
Thou wakest night and day for thought;
Y-wis, thy traveyl is for nought.
And Ielousye, withouten faile, 7565
Shal never quyte thee thy travaile.
And scathe is, that Fair-Welcoming,
Withouten any trespassing,
Shal wrongfully in prison be,
Ther wepeth and languissheth he. 7570
And though thou never yet, y-wis,
Agiltest man no more but this,
(Take not a-greef) it were worthy
To putte thee out of this baily,
And afterward in prison lye, 7575
And fettre thee til that thou dye;
For thou shalt for this sinne dwelle
Right in the devils ers of helle,
But-if that thou repente thee. '
'Ma fay, thou lyest falsly! ' quod he. 7580
What? welcome with mischaunce now!
Have I therfore herbered you
To seye me shame, and eek reprove?
With sory happe, to your bihove,
Am I to-day your herbergere! 7585
Go, herber you elleswhere than here,
That han a lyer called me!
Two tregetours art thou and he,
That in myn hous do me this shame,
And for my soth-sawe ye me blame. 7590
Is this the sermoun that ye make?
To alle the develles I me take,
Or elles, god, thou me confounde!
But er men diden this castel founde,
It passeth not ten dayes or twelve, 7595
But it was told right to my-selve,
And as they seide, right so tolde I,
He kiste the Rose privily!