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5310
'Another love also there is,
That is contrarie unto this,
Which desyre is so constreyned
That [it] is but wille feyned;
Awey fro trouthe it doth so varie, 5315
That to good love it is contrarie;
For it maymeth, in many wyse,
Syke hertis with coveityse;
Al in winning and in profyt
Sich love settith his delyt. 5320
This love so hangeth in balaunce
That, if it lese his hope, perchaunce,
Of lucre, that he is set upon,
It wol faile, and quenche anon;
For no man may be amorous, 5325
Ne in his living vertuous,
But-[if] he love more, in mood,
Men for hem-silf than for hir good.
For love that profit doth abyde
Is fals, and bit not in no tyde. 5330
[This] love cometh of dame Fortune,
That litel whyle wol contune;
For it shal chaungen wonder sone,
And take eclips right as the mone,
Whan she is from us [y]-let 5335
Thurgh erthe, that bitwixe is set
The sonne and hir, as it may falle,
Be it in party, or in alle;
The shadowe maketh her bemis merke,
And hir hornes to shewe derke, 5340
That part where she hath lost hir lyght
Of Phebus fully, and the sight;
Til, whan the shadowe is overpast,
She is enlumined ageyn as faste,
Thurgh brightnesse of the sonne bemes 5345
That yeveth to hir ageyn hir lemes.
That love is right of sich nature;
Now is [it] fair, and now obscure.
Now bright, now clipsy of manere,
And whylom dim, and whylom clere. 5350
As sone as Poverte ginneth take,
With mantel and [with] wedis blake
[It] hidith of Love the light awey,
That into night it turneth day;
It may not see Richesse shyne 5355
Til the blakke shadowes fyne.
For, whan Richesse shyneth bright,
Love recovereth ageyn his light;
And whan it failith, he wol flit,
And as she [groweth, so groweth] it. 5360
'Of this love, here what I sey:--
The riche men are loved ay,
And namely tho that sparand bene,
That wol not wasshe hir hertes clene
Of the filthe, nor of the vyce 5365
Of gredy brenning avaryce.
The riche man ful fond is, y-wis,
That weneth that he loved is.
If that his herte it undirstood,
It is not he, it is his good; 5370
He may wel witen in his thought,
His good is loved, and he right nought.
For if he be a nigard eke,
Men wole not sette by him a leke,
But haten him; this is the soth. 5375
Lo, what profit his catel doth!
Of every man that may him see,
It geteth him nought but enmitee.
But he amende him of that vyce,
And knowe him-silf, he is not wys.
5380
'Certis, he shulde ay freendly be,
To gete him love also ben free,
Or ellis he is not wyse ne sage
No more than is a gote ramage.
That he not loveth, his dede proveth, 5385
Whan he his richesse so wel loveth,
That he wol hyde it ay and spare,
His pore freendis seen forfare;
To kepe [it ay is] his purpose,
Til for drede his eyen close, 5390
And til a wikked deth him take;
Him hadde lever asondre shake,
And late his limes a sondre ryve,
Than leve his richesse in his lyve.
He thenkith parte it with no man; 5395
Certayn, no love is in him than.
How shulde love within him be,
Whan in his herte is no pite?
That he trespasseth, wel I wat,
For ech man knowith his estat; 5400
For wel him oughte be reproved
That loveth nought, ne is not loved.
'But sith we arn to Fortune comen,
And [han] our sermoun of hir nomen,
A wondir wil I telle thee now, 5405
Thou herdist never sich oon, I trow.
I not wher thou me leven shal,
Though sothfastnesse it be [in] al,
As it is writen, and is sooth,
That unto men more profit doth 5410
The froward Fortune and contraire,
Than the swote and debonaire:
And if thee thinke it is doutable,
It is thurgh argument provable.
For the debonaire and softe 5415
Falsith and bigylith ofte;
For liche a moder she can cherishe
And milken as doth a norys;
And of hir goode to hem deles,
And yeveth hem part of her loweles, 5420
With grete richesse and dignitee;
And hem she hoteth stabilitee
In a state that is not stable,
But chaunging ay and variable;
And fedith hem with glorie veyne, 5425
And worldly blisse noncerteyne.
Whan she hem settith on hir whele,
Than wene they to be right wele,
And in so stable state withalle,
That never they wene for to falle. 5430
And whan they set so highe be,
They wene to have in certeintee
Of hertly frendis [so] gret noumbre,
That no-thing mighte her stat encombre;
They truste hem so on every syde, 5435
Wening with hem they wolde abyde
In every perel and mischaunce,
Withoute chaunge or variaunce,
Bothe of catel and of good;
And also for to spende hir blood 5440
And alle hir membris for to spille,
Only to fulfille hir wille.
They maken it hole in many wyse,
And hoten hem hir ful servyse,
How sore that it do hem smerte, 5445
Into hir very naked sherte!
Herte and al, so hole they yeve,
For the tyme that they may live,
So that, with her flaterye,
They maken foolis glorifye 5450
Of hir wordis [greet] speking,
And han [there]-of a reioysing,
And trowe hem as the Evangyle;
And it is al falsheed and gyle,
As they shal afterwardes see, 5455
Whan they arn falle in povertee,
And been of good and catel bare;
Than shulde they seen who freendis ware.
For of an hundred, certeynly,
Nor of a thousand ful scarsly, 5460
Ne shal they fynde unnethis oon,
Whan povertee is comen upon.
For [this] Fortune that I of telle,
With men whan hir lust to dwelle,
Makith hem to lese hir conisaunce, 5465
And nourishith hem in ignoraunce.
'But froward Fortune and perverse,
Whan high estatis she doth reverse,
And maketh hem to tumble doun
Of hir whele, with sodeyn tourn, 5470
And from hir richesse doth hem flee,
And plongeth hem in povertee,
As a stepmoder envyous,
And leyeth a plastre dolorous
Unto her hertis, wounded egre, 5475
Which is not tempred with vinegre,
But with poverte and indigence,
For to shewe, by experience,
That she is Fortune verely
In whom no man shulde affy, 5480
Nor in hir yeftis have fiaunce,
She is so ful of variaunce.
Thus can she maken high and lowe,
Whan they from richesse ar[e]n throwe,
Fully to knowen, withouten were, 5485
Freend of effect, and freend of chere;
And which in love weren trew and stable,
And whiche also weren variable,
After Fortune, hir goddesse,
In poverte, outher in richesse; 5490
For al [she] yeveth, out of drede,
Unhappe bereveth it in dede;
For Infortune lat not oon
Of freendis, whan Fortune is goon;
I mene tho freendis that wol flee 5495
Anoon as entreth povertee.