No More Learning

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!
Thus seide I now, and have seid yore;
I not wher he dide any more. 7600
Why shulde men sey me such a thing,
If it hadde been gabbing?
Right so seide I, and wol seye yit;
I trowe, I lyed not of it;
And with my bemes I wol blowe 7605
To alle neighboris a-rowe,
How he hath bothe comen and gon. '
Tho spak Fals-Semblant right anon,
Al is not gospel, out of doute,
That men seyn in the toune aboute; 7610
Ley no deef ere to my speking;
I swere yow, sir, it is gabbing!
I trowe ye wot wel certeynly,
That no man loveth him tenderly
That seith him harm, if he wot it, 7615
Al be he never so pore of wit.
And sooth is also sikerly,
(This knowe ye, sir, as wel as I),
That lovers gladly wol visyten
The places ther hir loves habyten. 7620
This man you loveth and eek honoureth;
This man to serve you laboureth;
And clepeth you his freend so dere,
And this man maketh you good chere,
And every-wher that [he] you meteth, 7625
He you saleweth, and he you greteth.
He preseth not so ofte, that ye
Ought of his come encombred be;
Ther presen other folk on yow
Ful ofter than [that] he doth now. 7630
And if his herte him streyned so
Unto the Rose for to go,
Ye shulde him seen so ofte nede,
That ye shulde take him with the dede.
He coude his coming not forbere, 7635
Though ye him thrilled with a spere;
It nere not thanne as it is now.
But trusteth wel, I swere it yow,
That it is clene out of his thought.
Sir, certes, he ne thenketh it nought; 7640
No more ne doth Fair-Welcoming,
That sore abyeth al this thing.