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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.
Lat ladies worche with hir thinges,
They shal hem telle so fele tydinges,
And moeve hem eke so many requestis
By flatery, that not honest is, 6040
And therto yeve hem such thankinges,
What with kissing, and with talkinges,
That certes, if they trowed be,
Shal never leve hem loud ne fee
That it nil as the moeble fare, 6045
Of which they first delivered are.
Now may ye telle us al your wille,
And we your hestes shal fulfille.
'But Fals-Semblant dar not, for drede
Of you, sir, medle him of this dede, 6050
For he seith that ye been his fo;
He not, if ye wol worche him wo.
Wherfore we pray you alle, beausire,
That ye forgive him now your ire,
And that he may dwelle, as your man, 6055
With Abstinence, his dere lemman;
This our accord and our wil now. '
'Parfay,' seide Love, 'I graunte it yow;
I wol wel holde him for my man;
Now lat him come:' and he forth ran. 6060
Fals-Semblant,' quod Love, 'in this wyse
I take thee here to my servyse,
That thou our freendis helpe alway,
And hindre hem neithir night ne day,
But do thy might hem to releve, 6065
And eek our enemies that thou greve.
Thyn be this might, I graunt it thee,
My king of harlotes shalt thou be;
We wol that thou have such honour.
Certeyn, thou art a fals traitour, 6070
And eek a theef; sith thou were born,
A thousand tyme thou art forsworn.
But, natheles, in our hering,
To putte our folk out of douting,
I bid thee teche hem, wostow how? 6075
By somme general signe now,
In what place thou shalt founden be,
If that men had mister of thee;
And how men shal thee best espye,
For thee to knowe is greet maistrye; 6080
Tel in what place is thyn haunting. '
_F. Sem.