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Delyt thus hangith, drede thee nought,
Bothe mannis body and his thought,
Only thurgh Youthe, his chamberere, 4935
That to don yvel is customere,
And of nought elles taketh hede
But only folkes for to lede
Into disporte and wildenesse,
So is [she] froward from sadnesse. 4940
'But Elde drawith hem therfro;
Who wot it nought, he may wel go
[Demand] of hem that now arn olde,
That whylom Youthe hadde in holde,
Which yit remembre of tendir age, 4945
How it hem brought in many a rage,
And many a foly therin wrought.
But now that Elde hath hem thurghsought,
They repente hem of her folye,
That Youthe hem putte in Iupardye, 4950
In perel and in muche wo,
And made hem ofte amis to do,
And suen yvel companye,
Riot and avouterye.
'But Elde [can] ageyn restreyne 4955
From suche foly, and refreyne,
And set men, by hir ordinaunce,
In good reule and in governaunce.
But yvel she spendith hir servyse,
For no man wol hir love, ne pryse; 4960
She is hated, this wot I wele.
Hir acqueyntaunce wolde no man fele,
Ne han of Elde companye,
Men hate to be of hir alye.
For no man wolde bicomen olde, 4965
Ne dye, whan he is yong and bolde.
And Elde merveilith right gretly,
Whan they remembre hem inwardly
Of many a perelous empryse,
Whiche that they wrought in sondry wyse, 4970
How ever they might, withoute blame,
Escape awey withoute shame,
In youthe, withoute[n] damage
Or repreef of her linage,
Losse of membre, sheding of blode, 4975
Perel of deth, or losse of good.
'Wost thou nought where Youthe abit,
That men so preisen in her wit?
With Delyt she halt soiour,
For bothe they dwellen in oo tour. 4980
As longe as Youthe is in sesoun,
They dwellen in oon mansioun.
Delyt of Youthe wol have servyse
To do what so he wol devyse;
And Youthe is redy evermore 4985
For to obey, for smerte of sore,
Unto Delyt, and him to yive
Hir servise, whyl that she may live.
'Where Elde abit, I wol thee telle
Shortly, and no whyle dwelle, 4990
For thider bihoveth thee to go.
If Deth in youthe thee not slo,
Of this journey thou maist not faile.
With hir Labour and Travaile
Logged been, with Sorwe and Wo, 4995
That never out of hir courte go.
Peyne and Distresse, Syknesse and Ire,
And Malencoly, that angry sire,
Ben of hir paleys senatours;
Groning and Grucching, hir herbergeours, 5000
The day and night, hir to turment,
With cruel Deth they hir present,
And tellen hir, erliche and late,
That Deth stant armed at hir gate.
Than bringe they to hir remembraunce 5005
The foly dedis of hir infaunce,
Which causen hir to mourne in wo
That Youthe hath hir bigiled so,
Which sodeynly awey is hasted.
She wepeth the tyme that she hath wasted, 5010
Compleyning of the preterit,
And the present, that not abit,
And of hir olde vanitee,
That, but aforn hir she may see
In the future som socour, 5015
To leggen hir of hir dolour,
To graunt hir tyme of repentaunce,
For hir sinnes to do penaunce,
And at the laste so hir governe
To winne the Ioy that is eterne, 5020
Fro which go bakward Youthe [hir] made,
In vanitee to droune and wade.
For present tyme abidith nought,
It is more swift than any thought;
So litel whyle it doth endure 5025
That ther nis compte ne mesure.
'But how that ever the game go,
Who list [have] Ioye and mirth also
Of love, be it he or she,
High or lowe, who[so] it be, 5030
In fruyt they shulde hem delyte;
Her part they may not elles quyte,
To save hem-silf in honestee.
And yit ful many oon I see
Of wimmen, sothly for to seyne, 5035
That [ay] desire and wolde fayne
The pley of love, they be so wilde,
And not coveite to go with childe.
And if with child they be perchaunce,
They wole it holde a gret mischaunce; 5040
But what-som-ever wo they fele,
They wol not pleyne, but concele;
But-if it be any fool or nyce,
In whom that shame hath no Iustyce.
For to delyt echon they drawe, 5045
That haunte this werk, bothe high and lawe,
Save sich that ar[e]n worth right nought,
That for money wol be bought.
Such love I preise in no wyse,
Whan it is given for coveitise. 5050
I preise no womman, though [she] be wood,
That yeveth hir-silf for any good.
For litel shulde a man telle
Of hir, that wol hir body selle,
Be she mayde, be she wyf, 5055
That quik wol selle hir, by hir lyf.
How faire chere that ever she make,
He is a wrecche, I undirtake,
That loveth such one, for swete or sour,
Though she him calle hir paramour, 5060
And laugheth on him, and makith him feeste.
For certeynly no suche [a] beeste
To be loved is not worthy,
Or bere the name of druery.
Noon shulde hir please, but he were wood, 5065
That wol dispoile him of his good.
Yit nevertheles, I wol not sey
[But] she, for solace and for pley,
May a Iewel or other thing
Take of her loves free yeving; 5070
But that she aske it in no wyse,
For drede of shame of coveityse.
And she of hirs may him, certeyn,
Withoute sclaundre, yeven ageyn,
And ioyne her hertes togidre so 5075
In love, and take and yeve also.