_ 'Ye, sir; but
richesse
hath poustee.
Chaucer - Romuant of the Rose
'
_F. Sem. _ 'For they ne may. 6460
They ben so bare, I take no keep;
But I wol have the fatte sheep;--
Lat parish prestis have the lene,
I yeve not of hir harm a bene!
And if that prelats grucchen it, 6465
That oughten wroth be in hir wit,
To lese her fatte bestes so,
I shal yeve hem a stroke or two,
That they shal lesen with [the] force,
Ye, bothe hir mytre and hir croce. 6470
Thus Iape I hem, and have do longe,
My priveleges been so stronge. '
Fals-Semblant wolde have stinted here,
But Love ne made him no such chere
That he was wery of his sawe; 6475
But for to make him glad and fawe,
He seide:--'Tel on more specialy,
How that thou servest untrewly.
Tel forth, and shame thee never a del;
For as thyn abit shewith wel, 6480
Thou [semest] an holy heremyte. '
_F. Sem. _ 'Soth is, but I am an ypocryte. '
_Amour. _ 'Thou gost and prechest povertee? '
_F. Sem.
_ 'Ye, sir; but richesse hath poustee. '
_Amour. _ 'Thou prechest abstinence also? ' 6485
_F. Sem. _ 'Sir, I wol fillen, so mote I go,
My paunche of gode mete and wyne,
As shulde a maister of divyne;
For how that I me pover feyne,
Yit alle pore folk I disdeyne. 6490
'I love bet the acqueyntaunce
Ten tymes, of the king of Fraunce,
Than of pore man of mylde mode,
Though that his soule be also gode.
For whan I see beggers quaking, 6495
Naked on mixens al stinking,
For hungre crye, and eek for care,
I entremete not of hir fare.
They been so pore, and ful of pyne,
They might not ones yeve me dyne, 6500
For they have no-thing but hir lyf;
What shulde he yeve that likketh his knyf?
It is but foly to entremete,
To seke in houndes nest fat mete.
Let bere hem to the spitel anoon, 6505
But, for me, comfort gete they noon.
But a riche sike usurere
Wolde I visyte and drawe nere;
Him wol I comforte and rehete,
For I hope of his gold to gete. 6510
And if that wikked deth him have,
I wol go with him to his grave.
And if ther any reprove me,
Why that I lete the pore be,
Wostow how I [mot] ascape? 6515
I sey, and swere him ful rape,
That riche men han more tecches
Of sinne, than han pore wrecches,
And han of counseil more mister;
And therfore I wol drawe hem ner. 6520
But as gret hurt, it may so be,
Hath soule in right gret poverte,
As soul in gret richesse, forsothe,
Al-be-it that they hurten bothe.
_F. Sem. _ 'For they ne may. 6460
They ben so bare, I take no keep;
But I wol have the fatte sheep;--
Lat parish prestis have the lene,
I yeve not of hir harm a bene!
And if that prelats grucchen it, 6465
That oughten wroth be in hir wit,
To lese her fatte bestes so,
I shal yeve hem a stroke or two,
That they shal lesen with [the] force,
Ye, bothe hir mytre and hir croce. 6470
Thus Iape I hem, and have do longe,
My priveleges been so stronge. '
Fals-Semblant wolde have stinted here,
But Love ne made him no such chere
That he was wery of his sawe; 6475
But for to make him glad and fawe,
He seide:--'Tel on more specialy,
How that thou servest untrewly.
Tel forth, and shame thee never a del;
For as thyn abit shewith wel, 6480
Thou [semest] an holy heremyte. '
_F. Sem. _ 'Soth is, but I am an ypocryte. '
_Amour. _ 'Thou gost and prechest povertee? '
_F. Sem.
_ 'Ye, sir; but richesse hath poustee. '
_Amour. _ 'Thou prechest abstinence also? ' 6485
_F. Sem. _ 'Sir, I wol fillen, so mote I go,
My paunche of gode mete and wyne,
As shulde a maister of divyne;
For how that I me pover feyne,
Yit alle pore folk I disdeyne. 6490
'I love bet the acqueyntaunce
Ten tymes, of the king of Fraunce,
Than of pore man of mylde mode,
Though that his soule be also gode.
For whan I see beggers quaking, 6495
Naked on mixens al stinking,
For hungre crye, and eek for care,
I entremete not of hir fare.
They been so pore, and ful of pyne,
They might not ones yeve me dyne, 6500
For they have no-thing but hir lyf;
What shulde he yeve that likketh his knyf?
It is but foly to entremete,
To seke in houndes nest fat mete.
Let bere hem to the spitel anoon, 6505
But, for me, comfort gete they noon.
But a riche sike usurere
Wolde I visyte and drawe nere;
Him wol I comforte and rehete,
For I hope of his gold to gete. 6510
And if that wikked deth him have,
I wol go with him to his grave.
And if ther any reprove me,
Why that I lete the pore be,
Wostow how I [mot] ascape? 6515
I sey, and swere him ful rape,
That riche men han more tecches
Of sinne, than han pore wrecches,
And han of counseil more mister;
And therfore I wol drawe hem ner. 6520
But as gret hurt, it may so be,
Hath soule in right gret poverte,
As soul in gret richesse, forsothe,
Al-be-it that they hurten bothe.
