Confessio Amantis or Tales of the Seven Deadly Sins - John Gower (phonics story books .txt) 📗

soffre him forto live
And be such as he was tofore,
So that he were not forlore.
This god, which herde of his grevance,
Tok rowthe upon his repentance,
And bad him go forth redily
Unto a flod was faste by,
Which Paceole thanne hyhte,
In which as clene as evere he myhte 300
He scholde him waisshen overal,
And seide him thanne that he schal
Recovere his ferste astat ayein.
This king, riht as he herde sein,
Into the flod goth fro the lond,
And wissh him bothe fot and hond,
And so forth al the remenant,
As him was set in covenant:
And thanne he syh merveilles strange,
The flod his colour gan to change, 310
The gravel with the smale Stones
To gold thei torne bothe at ones,
And he was quit of that he hadde,
And thus fortune his chance ladde.
And whan he sih his touche aweie,
He goth him hom the rihte weie
And liveth forth as he dede er,
And putte al Avarice afer,
And the richesse of gold despiseth,
And seith that mete and cloth sufficeth. 320
Thus hath this king experience
Hou foles don the reverence
To gold, which of his oghne kinde
Is lasse worth than is the rinde
To sustienance of mannes fode;
And thanne he made lawes goode
And al his thing sette upon skile:
He bad his poeple forto tile
Here lond, and live under the lawe,
And that thei scholde also forthdrawe 330
Bestaile, and seche non encress
Of gold, which is the breche of pes.
For this a man mai finde write,
Tofor the time, er gold was smite
In Coign, that men the florin knewe,
Ther was welnyh noman untrewe;
Tho was ther nouther schield ne spere
Ne dedly wepne forto bere;
Tho was the toun withoute wal,
Which nou is closed overal; 340
Tho was ther no brocage in londe,
Which nou takth every cause on honde:
So mai men knowe, hou the florin
Was moder ferst of malengin
And bringere inne of alle werre,
Wherof this world stant out of herre
Thurgh the conseil of Avarice,
Which of his oghne propre vice
Is as the helle wonderfull;
For it mai neveremor be full, 350
That what as evere comth therinne,
Awey ne may it nevere winne.
Bot Sone myn, do thou noght so,
Let al such Avarice go,
And tak thi part of that thou hast:
I bidde noght that thou do wast,
Bot hold largesce in his mesure;
And if thou se a creature,
Which thurgh poverte is falle in nede,
Yif him som good, for this I rede 360
To him that wol noght yiven here,
What peine he schal have elleswhere.
Ther is a peine amonges alle
Benethe in helle, which men calle
The wofull peine of Tantaly,
Of which I schal thee redely
Devise hou men therinne stonde.
In helle, thou schalt understonde,
Ther is a flod of thilke office,
Which serveth al for Avarice: 370
What man that stonde schal therinne,
He stant up evene unto the chinne;
Above his hed also ther hongeth
A fruyt, which to that peine longeth,
And that fruit toucheth evere in on
His overlippe: and therupon
Swich thurst and hunger him assaileth,
That nevere his appetit ne faileth.
Bot whanne he wolde his hunger fede,
The fruit withdrawth him ate nede, 380
And thogh he heve his hed on hyh,
The fruit is evere aliche nyh,
So is the hunger wel the more:
And also, thogh him thurste sore
And to the water bowe a doun,
The flod in such condicioun
Avaleth, that his drinke areche
He mai noght. Lo nou, which a wreche,
That mete and drinke is him so couth,
And yit ther comth non in his mouth! 390
Lich to the peines of this flod
Stant Avarice in worldes good:
He hath ynowh and yit him nedeth,
For his skarsnesse it him forbiedeth,
And evere his hunger after more
Travaileth him aliche sore,
So is he peined overal.
Forthi thi goodes forth withal,
Mi Sone, loke thou despende,
Wherof thou myht thiself amende 400
Bothe hier and ek in other place.
And also if thou wolt pourchace
To be beloved, thou most use
Largesce, for if thou refuse
To yive for thi loves sake,
It is no reson that thou take
Of love that thou woldest crave.
Forthi, if thou wolt grace have,
Be gracious and do largesse,
Of Avarice and the seknesse 410
Eschuie above alle other thing,
And tak ensample of Mide king
And of the flod of helle also,
Where is ynowh of alle wo.
And thogh ther were no matiere
Bot only that we finden hiere,
Men oghten Avarice eschuie;
For what man thilke vice suie,
He get himself bot litel reste.
For hou so that the body reste, 420
The herte upon the gold travaileth,
Whom many a nyhtes drede assaileth;
For thogh he ligge abedde naked,
His herte is everemore awaked,
And dremeth, as he lith to slepe,
How besi that he is to kepe
His tresor, that no thief it stele.
Thus hath he bot a woful wele.
And riht so in the same wise,
If thou thiself wolt wel avise, 430
Ther be lovers of suche ynowe,
That wole unto no reson bowe.
If so be that thei come above,
Whan thei ben maistres of here love,
And that thei scholden be most glad,
With love thei ben most bestad,
So fain thei wolde it holden al.
Here herte, here yhe is overal,
And wenen every man be thief,
To stele awey that hem is lief; 440
Thus thurgh here oghne fantasie
Thei fallen into Jelousie.
Thanne hath the Schip tobroke his cable,
With every wynd and is muable.
Mi fader, for that ye nou telle,
I have herd ofte time telle
Of Jelousie, bot what it is
Yit understod I nevere er this:
Wherfore I wolde you beseche,
That ye me wolde enforme and teche 450
What maner thing it mihte be.
Mi Sone, that is hard to me:
Bot natheles, as I have herd,
Now herkne and thou schalt ben ansuerd.
Among the men lacke of manhode
In Mariage upon wifhode
Makth that a man himself deceiveth,
Wherof it is that he conceiveth
That ilke unsely maladie,
The which is cleped Jelousie: 460
Of which if I the proprete
Schal telle after the nycete,
So as it worcheth on a man,
A Fievere it is cotidian,
Which every day wol come aboute,
Wher so a man be inne or oute.
At hom if that a man wol wone,
This Fievere is thanne of comun wone
Most grevous in a mannes yhe:
For thanne he makth him tote and pryhe, 470
Wher so as evere his love go;
Sche schal noght with hir litel too
Misteppe, bot he se it al.
His yhe is walkende overal;
Wher that sche singe or that sche dance,
He seth the leste contienance,
If sche loke on a man aside
Or with him roune at eny tyde,
Or that sche lawghe, or that sche loure,
His yhe is ther at every houre. 480
And whanne it draweth to the nyht,
If sche thanne is withoute lyht,
Anon is al the game schent;
For thanne he set his parlement
To speke it whan he comth to bedde,
And seith, "If I were now to wedde,
I wolde neveremore have wif."
And so he torneth into strif
The lust of loves duete,
And al upon diversete. 490
If sche be freissh and wel araied,
He seith hir baner is displaied
To clepe in gestes fro the weie:
And if sche be noght wel beseie,
And that hir list noght to be gladd,
He berth an hond that sche is madd
And loveth noght hire housebonde;
He seith he mai wel understonde,
That if sche wolde his compaignie,
Sche scholde thanne afore his ije 500
Schewe al the plesir that sche mihte.
So that be daie ne be nyhte
Sche not what thing is for the beste,
Bot liveth out of alle reste;
For what as evere him liste sein,
Sche dar noght speke a word ayein,
Bot wepth and holt hire lippes clos.
Sche mai wel wryte, "Sanz repos,"
The wif which is to such on maried.
Of alle wommen be he waried, 510
For with this Fievere of Jalousie
His echedaies fantasie
Of sorghe is evere aliche grene,
So that ther is no love sene,
Whil that him list at hom abyde.
And whan so is he wol out ryde,
Thanne hath he redi his aspie
Abidinge in hir compaignie,
A janglere, an evel mouthed oon,
That sche ne mai nowhider gon, 520
Ne speke a word, ne ones loke,
That he ne wol it wende and croke
And torne after his oghne entente,
Thogh sche nothing bot honour mente.
Whan that the lord comth hom ayein,
The janglere moste somwhat sein;
So what withoute and what withinne,
This Fievere is evere to beginne,
For where he comth he can noght ende,
Til deth of him have mad an ende. 530
For thogh so be that he ne hiere
Ne se ne wite in no manere
Bot al honour and wommanhiede,
Therof the Jelous takth non hiede,
Bot as a man to love unkinde,
He cast his staf, as doth the blinde,
And fint defaulte where is non;
As who so dremeth on a Ston
Hou he is leid, and groneth ofte,
Whan he lith on his pilwes softe. 540
So is ther noght bot strif and cheste;
Whan love scholde make his feste,
It is gret thing if he hir kisse:
Thus hath sche lost the nyhtes blisse,
For at such time he gruccheth evere
And berth on hond ther is a levere,
And that sche wolde an other were
In stede of him abedde there;
And with tho wordes and with mo
Of Jelousie, he torneth fro 550
And lith upon his other side,
And sche with that drawth hire aside,
And ther sche wepeth al the nyht.
Ha, to what peine sche is dyht,
That in hire youthe hath so beset
The bond which mai noght ben unknet!
I wot the time is ofte cursed,
That evere was the gold unpursed,
The which was leid upon the bok,
Whan that alle othre sche forsok 560
For love of him; bot al to late
Sche pleigneth, for as thanne algate
Sche mot forbere and to him bowe,
Thogh he ne wole it noght allowe.
For man is lord of thilke feire,
So mai the womman bot empeire,
If sche speke oght ayein his wille;
And thus sche berth hir peine stille.
Bot if this Fievere a womman take,
Sche schal be wel mor harde schake; 570
For thogh sche bothe se and hiere,
And finde that ther is matiere,
Sche dar bot to hirselve pleine,
And thus sche suffreth double peine.
Lo thus, mi Sone, as I have write,
Thou miht of Jelousie wite
His fievere and his condicion,
Which is full of suspecion.
Bot wherof that this fievere groweth,
Who so these olde bokes troweth, 580
Ther mai he finden hou it is:
For thei ous teche and telle this,
Hou that this fievere of Jelousie
Somdel it groweth of sotie
Of love, and somdiel of untrust.
For as a sek man lest his lust,
And whan he may no savour gete,
He hateth thanne his oughne mete,
Riht so this fieverous maladie,
Which caused is of fantasie, 590
Makth the Jelous in fieble plit
To lese of love his appetit
Thurgh feigned enformacion
Of his ymaginacion.
Bot