'But sith ye love
discreven
so,
And lakke and preise it, bothe two,
Defyneth it into this letter, 4805
That I may thenke on it the better;
For I herde never [diffyne it ere],
And wilfully I wolde it lere.
And lakke and preise it, bothe two,
Defyneth it into this letter, 4805
That I may thenke on it the better;
For I herde never [diffyne it ere],
And wilfully I wolde it lere.
Chaucer - Romuant of the Rose
4700
Now sette wel thyn entencioun,
To here of love discripcioun.
'Love, it is an hateful pees,
A free acquitaunce, without relees,
[A trouthe], fret full of falshede, 4705
A sikernesse, al set in drede;
In herte is a dispeiring hope,
And fulle of hope, it is wanhope;
Wyse woodnesse, and wood resoun,
A swete peril, in to droune, 4710
An hevy birthen, light to bere,
A wikked wawe awey to were.
It is Caribdis perilous,
Disagreable and gracious.
It is discordaunce that can accorde, 4715
And accordaunce to discorde.
It is cunning withoute science,
Wisdom withoute sapience,
Wit withoute discrecioun,
Havoir, withoute possessioun. 4720
It is sike hele and hool siknesse,
A thrust drowned [in] dronkenesse,
An helthe ful of maladye,
And charitee ful of envye,
An [hunger] ful of habundaunce, 4725
And a gredy suffisaunce;
Delyt right ful of hevinesse,
And drerihed ful of gladnesse;
Bitter swetnesse and swete errour,
Right evel savoured good savour; 4730
Sinne that pardoun hath withinne,
And pardoun spotted without [with] sinne;
A peyne also it is, Ioyous,
And felonye right pitous;
Also pley that selde is stable, 4735
And stedefast [stat], right mevable;
A strengthe, weyked to stonde upright,
And feblenesse, ful of might;
Wit unavysed, sage folye,
And Ioye ful of turmentrye; 4740
A laughter it is, weping ay,
Rest, that traveyleth night and day;
Also a swete helle it is,
And a sorowful Paradys;
A plesaunt gayl and esy prisoun, 4745
And, ful of froste, somer sesoun;
Pryme temps, ful of frostes whyte,
And May, devoide of al delyte,
With seer braunches, blossoms ungrene;
And newe fruyt, fillid with winter tene. 4750
It is a slowe, may not forbere
Ragges, ribaned with gold, to were;
For al-so wel wol love be set
Under ragges as riche rochet;
And eek as wel be amourettes 4755
In mourning blak, as bright burnettes.
For noon is of so mochel prys,
Ne no man founden [is] so wys,
Ne noon so high is of parage,
Ne no man founde of wit so sage, 4760
No man so hardy ne so wight,
Ne no man of so mochel might,
Noon so fulfilled of bounte,
[But] he with love may daunted be.
Al the world holdith this way; 4765
Love makith alle to goon miswey,
But it be they of yvel lyf,
Whom Genius cursith, man and wyf,
That wrongly werke ageyn nature.
Noon suche I love, ne have no cure 4770
Of suche as Loves servaunts been,
And wol not by my counsel fleen.
For I ne preyse that loving,
Wher-thurgh man, at the laste ending,
Shal calle hem wrecchis fulle of wo, 4775
Love greveth hem and shendith so.
But if thou wolt wel Love eschewe,
For to escape out of his mewe,
And make al hool thy sorwe to slake,
No bettir counsel mayst thou take, 4780
Than thinke to fleen wel, y-wis;
May nought helpe elles; for wite thou this:--
If thou flee it, it shal flee thee;
Folowe it, and folowen shal it thee. '
_L'Amaunt. _ Whan I hadde herd al Resoun seyn, 4785
Which hadde spilt hir speche in veyn:
Dame,' seyde I, 'I dar wel sey
Of this avaunt me wel I may
That from your scole so deviaunt
I am, that never the more avaunt 4790
Right nought am I, thurgh your doctryne;
I dulle under your disciplyne;
I wot no more than [I] wist [er],
To me so contrarie and so fer
Is every thing that ye me lere; 4795
And yit I can it al parcuere.
Myn herte foryetith therof right nought,
It is so writen in my thought;
And depe graven it is so tendir
That al by herte I can it rendre, 4800
And rede it over comunely;
But to my-silf lewedist am I.
'But sith ye love discreven so,
And lakke and preise it, bothe two,
Defyneth it into this letter, 4805
That I may thenke on it the better;
For I herde never [diffyne it ere],
And wilfully I wolde it lere. '
_Raisoun. _ 'If love be serched wel and sought,
It is a sykenesse of the thought 4810
Annexed and knet bitwixe tweyne,
[Which] male and female, with oo cheyne,
So frely byndith, that they nil twinne,
Whether so therof they lese or winne.
The roote springith, thurgh hoot brenning, 4815
Into disordinat desiring
For to kissen and enbrace,
And at her lust them to solace.
Of other thing love recchith nought,
But setteth hir herte and al hir thought 4820
More for delectacioun
Than any procreacioun
Of other fruyt by engendring;
Which love to god is not plesing;
For of hir body fruyt to get 4825
They yeve no force, they are so set
Upon delyt, to pley in-fere.
And somme have also this manere,
To feynen hem for love seke;
Sich love I preise not at a leke. 4830
For paramours they do but feyne;
To love truly they disdeyne.
They falsen ladies traitoursly,
And sweren hem othes utterly,
With many a lesing, and many a fable, 4835
And al they finden deceyvable.
And, whan they her lust han geten,
The hoote ernes they al foryeten.
Wimmen, the harm they byen ful sore;
But men this thenken evermore, 4840
That lasse harm is, so mote I thee,
Disceyve them, than disceyved be;
And namely, wher they ne may
Finde non other mene wey.
For I wot wel, in sothfastnesse, 4845
That [who] doth now his bisynesse
With any womman for to dele,
For any lust that he may fele,
But-if it be for engendrure,
He doth trespasse, I you ensure. 4850
For he shulde setten al his wil
To geten a likly thing him til,
And to sustene[n], if he might,
And kepe forth, by kindes right,
His owne lyknesse and semblable, 4855
For bicause al is corumpable,
And faile shulde successioun,
Ne were ther generacioun
Our sectis strene for to save.
Whan fader or moder arn in grave, 4860
Hir children shulde, whan they ben deede,
Ful diligent ben, in hir steede,
To use that werke on such a wyse,
That oon may thurgh another ryse.
Therfore set Kinde therin delyt, 4865
For men therin shulde hem delyte,
And of that dede be not erke,
But ofte sythes haunt that werke.
For noon wolde drawe therof a draught
Ne were delyt, which hath him caught. 4870
This hadde sotil dame Nature;
For noon goth right, I thee ensure,
Ne hath entent hool ne parfyt;
For hir desir is for delyt,
The which fortened crece and eke 4875
The pley of love for-ofte seke,
And thralle hem-silf, they be so nyce,
Unto the prince of every vyce.
Now sette wel thyn entencioun,
To here of love discripcioun.
'Love, it is an hateful pees,
A free acquitaunce, without relees,
[A trouthe], fret full of falshede, 4705
A sikernesse, al set in drede;
In herte is a dispeiring hope,
And fulle of hope, it is wanhope;
Wyse woodnesse, and wood resoun,
A swete peril, in to droune, 4710
An hevy birthen, light to bere,
A wikked wawe awey to were.
It is Caribdis perilous,
Disagreable and gracious.
It is discordaunce that can accorde, 4715
And accordaunce to discorde.
It is cunning withoute science,
Wisdom withoute sapience,
Wit withoute discrecioun,
Havoir, withoute possessioun. 4720
It is sike hele and hool siknesse,
A thrust drowned [in] dronkenesse,
An helthe ful of maladye,
And charitee ful of envye,
An [hunger] ful of habundaunce, 4725
And a gredy suffisaunce;
Delyt right ful of hevinesse,
And drerihed ful of gladnesse;
Bitter swetnesse and swete errour,
Right evel savoured good savour; 4730
Sinne that pardoun hath withinne,
And pardoun spotted without [with] sinne;
A peyne also it is, Ioyous,
And felonye right pitous;
Also pley that selde is stable, 4735
And stedefast [stat], right mevable;
A strengthe, weyked to stonde upright,
And feblenesse, ful of might;
Wit unavysed, sage folye,
And Ioye ful of turmentrye; 4740
A laughter it is, weping ay,
Rest, that traveyleth night and day;
Also a swete helle it is,
And a sorowful Paradys;
A plesaunt gayl and esy prisoun, 4745
And, ful of froste, somer sesoun;
Pryme temps, ful of frostes whyte,
And May, devoide of al delyte,
With seer braunches, blossoms ungrene;
And newe fruyt, fillid with winter tene. 4750
It is a slowe, may not forbere
Ragges, ribaned with gold, to were;
For al-so wel wol love be set
Under ragges as riche rochet;
And eek as wel be amourettes 4755
In mourning blak, as bright burnettes.
For noon is of so mochel prys,
Ne no man founden [is] so wys,
Ne noon so high is of parage,
Ne no man founde of wit so sage, 4760
No man so hardy ne so wight,
Ne no man of so mochel might,
Noon so fulfilled of bounte,
[But] he with love may daunted be.
Al the world holdith this way; 4765
Love makith alle to goon miswey,
But it be they of yvel lyf,
Whom Genius cursith, man and wyf,
That wrongly werke ageyn nature.
Noon suche I love, ne have no cure 4770
Of suche as Loves servaunts been,
And wol not by my counsel fleen.
For I ne preyse that loving,
Wher-thurgh man, at the laste ending,
Shal calle hem wrecchis fulle of wo, 4775
Love greveth hem and shendith so.
But if thou wolt wel Love eschewe,
For to escape out of his mewe,
And make al hool thy sorwe to slake,
No bettir counsel mayst thou take, 4780
Than thinke to fleen wel, y-wis;
May nought helpe elles; for wite thou this:--
If thou flee it, it shal flee thee;
Folowe it, and folowen shal it thee. '
_L'Amaunt. _ Whan I hadde herd al Resoun seyn, 4785
Which hadde spilt hir speche in veyn:
Dame,' seyde I, 'I dar wel sey
Of this avaunt me wel I may
That from your scole so deviaunt
I am, that never the more avaunt 4790
Right nought am I, thurgh your doctryne;
I dulle under your disciplyne;
I wot no more than [I] wist [er],
To me so contrarie and so fer
Is every thing that ye me lere; 4795
And yit I can it al parcuere.
Myn herte foryetith therof right nought,
It is so writen in my thought;
And depe graven it is so tendir
That al by herte I can it rendre, 4800
And rede it over comunely;
But to my-silf lewedist am I.
'But sith ye love discreven so,
And lakke and preise it, bothe two,
Defyneth it into this letter, 4805
That I may thenke on it the better;
For I herde never [diffyne it ere],
And wilfully I wolde it lere. '
_Raisoun. _ 'If love be serched wel and sought,
It is a sykenesse of the thought 4810
Annexed and knet bitwixe tweyne,
[Which] male and female, with oo cheyne,
So frely byndith, that they nil twinne,
Whether so therof they lese or winne.
The roote springith, thurgh hoot brenning, 4815
Into disordinat desiring
For to kissen and enbrace,
And at her lust them to solace.
Of other thing love recchith nought,
But setteth hir herte and al hir thought 4820
More for delectacioun
Than any procreacioun
Of other fruyt by engendring;
Which love to god is not plesing;
For of hir body fruyt to get 4825
They yeve no force, they are so set
Upon delyt, to pley in-fere.
And somme have also this manere,
To feynen hem for love seke;
Sich love I preise not at a leke. 4830
For paramours they do but feyne;
To love truly they disdeyne.
They falsen ladies traitoursly,
And sweren hem othes utterly,
With many a lesing, and many a fable, 4835
And al they finden deceyvable.
And, whan they her lust han geten,
The hoote ernes they al foryeten.
Wimmen, the harm they byen ful sore;
But men this thenken evermore, 4840
That lasse harm is, so mote I thee,
Disceyve them, than disceyved be;
And namely, wher they ne may
Finde non other mene wey.
For I wot wel, in sothfastnesse, 4845
That [who] doth now his bisynesse
With any womman for to dele,
For any lust that he may fele,
But-if it be for engendrure,
He doth trespasse, I you ensure. 4850
For he shulde setten al his wil
To geten a likly thing him til,
And to sustene[n], if he might,
And kepe forth, by kindes right,
His owne lyknesse and semblable, 4855
For bicause al is corumpable,
And faile shulde successioun,
Ne were ther generacioun
Our sectis strene for to save.
Whan fader or moder arn in grave, 4860
Hir children shulde, whan they ben deede,
Ful diligent ben, in hir steede,
To use that werke on such a wyse,
That oon may thurgh another ryse.
Therfore set Kinde therin delyt, 4865
For men therin shulde hem delyte,
And of that dede be not erke,
But ofte sythes haunt that werke.
For noon wolde drawe therof a draught
Ne were delyt, which hath him caught. 4870
This hadde sotil dame Nature;
For noon goth right, I thee ensure,
Ne hath entent hool ne parfyt;
For hir desir is for delyt,
The which fortened crece and eke 4875
The pley of love for-ofte seke,
And thralle hem-silf, they be so nyce,
Unto the prince of every vyce.