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So yvel hewed was hir colour,
Hir semed have lived in langour.
She was lyk thing for hungre deed, 215
That ladde hir lyf only by breed
Kneden with eisel strong and egre;
And therto she was lene and megre.
And she was clad ful povrely,
Al in an old torn courtepy, 220
As she were al with dogges torn;
And bothe bihinde and eek biforn
Clouted was she beggarly.
A mantel heng hir faste by,
Upon a perche, weyke and smalle; 225
A burnet cote heng therwithalle,
Furred with no menivere,

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Coveitise ne set entendre
A riens qu'a l'autrui acrochier;
Coveitise a l'autrui trop chier.
Une autre ymage y ot assise AVARICE.
Coste a coste de Coveitise,
AVARICE estoit apelee:
Lede estoit et sale et foulee
Cele ymage, et megre et chetive,
Et aussi vert cum une cive. 200
Tant par estoit descoloree
Qu'el sembloit estre enlangoree;
Chose sembloit morte de fain,
Qui ne vesquit fors que de pain
Petri a lessu fort et aigre;
Et avec ce qu'ele iere maigre,
Iert-ele povrement vestue,
Cote avoit vies et desrumpue,
Comme s'el fust as chiens remese;
Povre iert moult la cote et esrese, 210
Et plaine de vies palestiaus.
Delez li pendoit ung mantiaus
A une perche moult greslete,
Et une cote de brunete;
Ou mantiau n'ot pas penne vaire,

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But with a furre rough of here,
Of lambe-skinnes hevy and blake;
It was ful old, I undertake. 230
For Avarice to clothe hir wel
Ne hasteth hir, never a del;
For certeynly it were hir loth
To weren ofte that ilke cloth;
And if it were forwered, she 235
Wolde have ful greet necessitee
Of clothing, er she boughte hir newe,
Al were it bad of wolle and hewe.
This Avarice held in hir hande
A purs, that heng [doun] by a bande; 240
And that she hidde and bond so stronge,
Men must abyde wonder longe
Out of that purs er ther come ought,
For that ne cometh not in hir thought;
It was not, certein, hir entente 245
That fro that purs a peny wente.
And by that image, nygh y-nough, ENVYE.
Was peynt ENVYE, that never lough,
Nor never wel in herte ferde
But-if she outher saugh or herde 250

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Mes moult vies et de povre afaire,
D'agniaus noirs velus et pesans.
Bien avoit la robe vingt ans;
Mes Avarice du vestir
Se sot moult a tart aatir: 220
Car sachies que moult li pesast
Se cele robe point usast;
Car s'el fust usee et mauvese,
Avarice eust grant mesese
De noeve robe et grant disete,
Avant qu'ele eust autre fete.
Avarice en sa main tenoit
Une borse qu'el reponnoit,
Et la nooit si durement,
Que demorast moult longuement 230
Aincois qu'el en peust riens traire,
Mes el n'avoit de ce que faire.
El n'aloit pas a ce beant
Que de la borse ostat neant.
Apres refu portrete ENVIE, ENVIE.
Qui ne rist oncques en sa vie,
N'oncques de riens ne s'esjoi,
S'ele ne vit, ou s'el n'oi

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Som greet mischaunce, or greet disese.
No-thing may so moch hir plese
As mischef and misaventure;
Or whan she seeth discomfiture
Upon any worthy man falle, 255
Than lyketh hir [ful] wel withalle.
She is ful glad in hir corage,
If she see any greet linage
Be brought to nought in shamful wyse.
And if a man in honour ryse, 260
Or by his witte, or by prowesse,
Of that hath she gret hevinesse;
For, trusteth wel, she goth nigh wood
Whan any chaunce happeth good.
Envye is of swich crueltee, 265
That feith ne trouthe holdeth she
To freend ne felawe, bad or good.
Ne she hath kin noon of hir blood,
That she nis ful hir enemy;
She nolde, I dar seyn hardely, 270
Hir owne fader ferde wel.
And sore abyeth she everydel
Hir malice, and hir maltalent:

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Aucun grant domage retrere.
Nule riens ne li puet tant plere 240
Cum mefet et mesaventure;
Quant el voit grant desconfiture
Sor aucun prodomme cheoir,
Ice li plest moult a veoir.
Ele est trop lie en son corage
Quant el voit aucun grant lignage
Decheoir et aler a honte;
Et quant aucuns a honor monte
Par son sens ou par sa proece,
C'est la chose qui plus la blece. 250
Car sachies que moult la convient
Estre iree quant biens avient.
Envie est de tel cruaute,
Qu'ele ne porte leaute
A compaignon, ne a compaigne;
N'ele n'a parent, tant li tiengne,
A cui el ne soit anemie:
Car certes el ne vorroit mie
Que biens venist, neis a son pere.
Mes bien sachies qu'ele compere 260
Sa malice trop ledement:

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For she is in so greet turment
And hath such [wo], whan folk doth good, 275
That nigh she melteth for pure wood;
Hir herte kerveth and to-breketh
That god the peple wel awreketh.
Envye, y-wis, shal never lette
Som blame upon the folk to sette. 280
I trowe that if Envye, y-wis,
Knewe the beste man that is
On this syde or biyond the see,
Yit somwhat lakken him wolde she.
And if he were so hende and wys, 285
That she ne mighte al abate his prys,
Yit wolde she blame his worthinesse,
Or by hir wordes make it lesse.