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Bifore the folk, hem to bigylen, 1055
These losengeres hem preyse, and smylen,
And thus the world with word anoynten;
But afterward they [prikke] and poynten

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De grant pris et de grant affaire.
Qui a li ne as siens meffaire
Osast riens par fais, ou par dis,
Il fust moult fiers et moult hardis;
Qu'ele puet moult nuire et aidier.
Ce n'est mie ne d'ui ne d'ier
Que riches gens out grant poissance
De faire ou aide, ou grevance. 1030
Tuit li greignor et li menor
Portoient a Richece honor:
Tuit baoient a li servir,
Por l'amor de li deservir;
Chascuns sa dame la clamoit,
Car tous li mondes la cremoit;
Tous li mons iert en son dangier.
En sa cort ot maint losengier,
Maint traitor, maint envieus:
Ce sunt cil qui sunt curieus 1040
De desprisier et de blasmer
Tous ceus qui font miex a amer.
Par devant, por eus losengier,
Loent les gens li losengier;
Tout le monde par parole oignent,
Mes lor losenges les gens poignent

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The folk right to the bare boon,
Bihinde her bak whan they ben goon, 1060
And foule abate the folkes prys.
Ful many a worthy man and wys,
An hundred, have [they] don to dye,
These losengeres, through flaterye;
And maketh folk ful straunge be, 1065
Ther-as hem oughte be prive.
Wel yvel mote they thryve and thee,
And yvel aryved mote they be,
These losengeres, ful of envye!
No good man loveth hir companye. 1070
Richesse a robe of purpre on hadde,
Ne trowe not that I lye or madde;
For in this world is noon it liche,
Ne by a thousand deel so riche,
Ne noon so fair; for it ful wel 1075
With orfrays leyd was everydel,
And portrayed in the ribaninges
Of dukes stories, and of kinges.
And with a bend of gold tasseled,
And knoppes fyne of gold ameled. 1080
Aboute hir nekke of gentil entaile
Was shet the riche chevesaile,

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Par derriere dusques as os,
Qu'il abaissent des bons les los,
Et desloent les aloes,
Et si loent les desloes. 1050
Maint prodommes ont encuses,
Et de lor honnor recules
Li losengier par lor losenges;
Car il font ceus des cors estranges
Qui deussent estre prives:
Mal puissent-il estre arives
Icil losengier plain d'envie!
Car nus prodons n'aime lor vie.
Richece ot une porpre robe,
Ice ne tenes mie a lobe, 1060
Que je vous di bien et afiche
Qu'il n'ot si bele, ne si riche
Ou monde, ne si envoisie.
La porpre fu toute orfroisie;
Si ot portraites a orfrois
Estoires de dus et de rois.
Si estoit au col bien orlee
D'une bende d'or neelee
Moult richement, sachies sans faille.
Si i avoit tretout a taille 1070

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In which ther was ful gret plentee
Of stones clere and bright to see.
Rychesse a girdel hadde upon, 1085
The bokel of it was of a stoon
Of vertu greet, and mochel of might;
For who-so bar the stoon so bright,
Of venim [thurte] him no-thing doute,
While he the stoon hadde him aboute. 1090
That stoon was greetly for to love,
And til a riche mannes bihove
Worth al the gold in Rome and Fryse.
The mourdaunt, wrought in noble wyse,
Was of a stoon ful precious, 1095
That was so fyn and vertuous,
That hool a man it coude make
Of palasye, and of tooth-ake.
And yit the stoon hadde suche a grace,
That he was siker in every place, 1100
Al thilke day, not blind to been,
That fasting mighte that stoon seen.
The barres were of gold ful fyne,
Upon a tissu of satyne,
Ful hevy, greet, and no-thing light, 1105
In everich was a besaunt-wight.
Upon the tresses of Richesse
Was set a cercle, for noblesse,

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De riches pierres grant plente
Qui moult rendoient grant clarte.
Richece ot ung moult riche ceint
Par desus cele porpre ceint;
La boucle d'une pierre fu
Qui ot grant force et grant vertu:
Car cis qui sor soi la portoit,
Nes uns venins ne redotoit:
Nus nel pooit envenimer,
Moult faisoit la pierre a aimer. 1080
Ele vausist a ung prodomme
Miex que trestous li ors de Romme.
D'une pierre fu li mordens,
Qui garissoit du mal des dens;
Et si avoit ung tel eur,
Que cis pooit estre asseur
Tretous les jors de sa veue,
Qui a geun l'avoit veue.
Li clou furent d'or esmere,
Qui erent el tissu dore; 1090
Si estoient gros et pesant,
En chascun ot bien ung besant.
Richece ot sus ses treces sores
Ung cercle d'or; onques encores

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Of brend gold, that ful lighte shoon;
So fair, trowe I, was never noon. 1110
But he were cunning, for the nones,
That coude devysen alle the stones
That in that cercle shewen clere;
It is a wonder thing to here.
For no man coude preyse or gesse 1115
Of hem the valewe or richesse.