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And she hadde [eek] a foul usage;
She mighte loke in no visage
Of man or womman forth-right pleyn, 295
But shette oon ye for disdeyn;

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Car ele est en si grant torment,
Et a tel duel quant gens bien font,
Par ung petit qu'ele ne font.
Ses felons cuers l'art et detrenche,
Qui de li Diex et la gent venche.
Envie ne fine nule hore
D'aucun blasme as gens metre sore;
Je cuit que s'ele cognoissoit
Tot le plus prodome qui soit 270
Ne deca mer, ne dela mer,
Si le vorroit-ele blasmer;
Et s'il iere si bien apris
Qu'el ne peust de tot son pris
Rien abatre ne deprisier,
Si vorroit-ele apetisier
Sa proece au mains, et s'onor
Par parole faire menor.
Lors vi qu'Envie en la painture
Avoit trop lede esgardeure; 280
Ele ne regardast noient
Fors de travers en borgnoiant;
Ele avoit ung mauves usage,
Qu'ele ne pooit ou visage
Regarder reins de plain en plaing,
Ains clooit ung oel par desdaing,

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So for envye brenned she
Whan she mighte any man [y]-see,
That fair, or worthy were, or wys,
Or elles stood in folkes prys. 300
SOROWE was peynted next Envye SOROWE.
Upon that walle of masonrye.
But wel was seen in hir colour
That she hadde lived in langour;
Hir semed have the Iaunyce. 305
Nought half so pale was Avaryce,
Nor no-thing lyk, [as] of lenesse;
For sorowe, thought, and greet distresse,
That she hadde suffred day and night
Made hir ful yelwe, and no-thing bright, 310
Ful fade, pale, and megre also.
Was never wight yit half so wo
As that hir semed for to be,
Nor so fulfilled of ire as she.
I trowe that no wight mighte hir plese, 315
Nor do that thing that mighte hir ese;
Nor she ne wolde hir sorowe slake,
Nor comfort noon unto hir take;

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Qu'ele fondoit d'ire et ardoit,
Quant aucuns qu'ele regardoit,
Estoit ou preus, ou biaus, ou gens,
Ou ames, ou loes de gens. 290
Delez Envie auques pres iere TRISTESSE.
TRISTECE painte en la maisiere;
Mes bien paroit a sa color
Qu'ele avoit au cuer grant dolor,
Et sembloit avoir la jaunice.
Si n'i feist riens Avarice
Ne de paleur, ne de megrece,
Car li soucis et la destrece,
Et la pesance et les ennuis
Qu'el soffroit de jors et de nuis, 300
L'avoient moult fete jaunir,
Et megre et pale devenir.
Oncques mes nus en tel martire
Ne fu, ne n'ot ausinc grant ire
Cum il sembloit que ele eust:
Je cuit que nus ne li seust
Faire riens qui li peust plaire:
N'el ne se vosist pas retraire,
Ne reconforter a nul fuer
Du duel qu'ele avoit a son cuer. 310

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So depe was hir wo bigonnen,
And eek hir herte in angre ronnen, 320
A sorowful thing wel semed she.
Nor she hadde no-thing slowe be
For to forcracchen al hir face,
And for to rende in many place
Hir clothes, and for to tere hir swire, 325
As she that was fulfilled of ire;
And al to-torn lay eek hir here
Aboute hir shuldres, here and there,
As she that hadde it al to-rent
For angre and for maltalent. 330
And eek I telle you certeynly
How that she weep ful tenderly.
In world nis wight so hard of herte
That hadde seen hir sorowes smerte,
That nolde have had of hir pitee, 335
So wo-bigoon a thing was she.
She al to-dasshte hir-self for wo,
And smoot togider her handes two.
To sorwe was she ful ententyf,
That woful recchelees caityf; 340
Hir roughte litel of pleying,
Or of clipping or [of] kissing;
For who-so sorweful is in herte

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Trop avoit son cuer correcie,
Et son duel parfont commencie.
Moult sembloit bien qu'el fust dolente,
Qu'ele n'avoit mie este lente
D'esgratiner tote sa chiere;
N'ele n'avoit pas sa robe chiere,
Ains l'ot en mains leus desciree
Cum cele qui moult iert iree.
Si cheveul tuit destrecie furent,
Et espandu par son col jurent, 320
Que les avoit trestous desrous
De maltalent et de corrous.
Et sachies bien veritelment
Qu'ele ploroit profondement:
Nus, tant fust durs, ne la veist,
A cui grant pitie n'en preist,
Qu'el se desrompoit et batoit,
Et ses poins ensemble hurtoit.
Moult iert a duel fere ententive
La dolereuse, la chetive; 330
Il ne li tenoit d'envoisier,
Ne d'acoler, ne de baisier:
Car cil qui a le cuer dolent,

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Him liste not to pleye ne sterte,
Nor for to daunsen, ne to singe, 345
Ne may his herte in temper bringe
To make Ioye on even or morowe;
For Ioye is contraire unto sorowe.
ELDE was peynted after this, ELDE.
That shorter was a foot, ywis, 350
Than she was wont in her yonghede.
Unnethe hir-self she mighte fede;
So feble and eek so old was she
That faded was al hir beautee.
Ful salowe was waxen hir colour, 355
Hir heed for-hoor was, whyt as flour.
Y-wis, gret qualm ne were it noon,
Ne sinne, although hir lyf were gon.
Al woxen was hir body unwelde,
And drye, and dwyned al for elde. 360
A foul forwelked thing was she
That whylom round and softe had be.