THE LOVE OF GLORY.

TUM EGO SCIS INQUAM.

ÞAnne seide I B. Thou knowest that I did not covet mortal and transitory things. þus. þou wost wel þiself þat þe 1484
couetise of mortal þinges ne hadden neuer lordshipe
of me. but I haue wel desired matere of þinges
to done. as who seiþ. I only wished to exercise my virtue in public concerns, lest it should grow feeble by inactivity. I desired[e] to han matere of
gouernaunce ouer comunalites. ¶ For vertue stille ne 1488
sholde not elden. þat is to seyn. þat list þat or he wex
olde ¶ His uertue þat lay now ful stille. ne sholde
nat perisshe vnexcercised in gouernaunce of comune.
¶ For whiche men myȝten speke or writen of his 1492
goode gouernement. P. A love of glory is one of those things that may captivate minds naturally great, but not yet arrived at the perfection of virtue. ¶ Philosophie. ¶ For soþe quod
she. and þat is a þing þat may drawen to gouernaunce
swiche hertes as ben worþi and noble of hir nature.
but naþeles it may nat drawen or tollen swiche hertes as 1496
ben y-brouȝt to þe ful[le] perfeccioun of vertue. þat is
to seyn couetyse of glorie and renoun to han wel
administred þe comune þinges. or doon goode decertes
to profit of þe comune. But consider how small and void of weight is that glory. for se now and considere how 1500
litel and how voide of al prise is þilke glorie. Astronomy teaches us that this globe of earth is but a speck compared with the extent of the heavens, and is as nothing if compared with the magnitude of the celestial sphere. ¶ Certeine
þing is as þou hast lerned by demonstracioun of
astronomye þat al þe envyronynge of þe erþe aboute
ne halt but þe resoun of a prykke at regard of þe gretnesse 1504
of heuene. þat is to seye. þat yif þat þer were
maked comparisoun of þe erþe to þe gretnesse of
heuene. men wolde Iugen in alle þat erþe [ne] helde
no space Ptolemy shows that only one-fourth of this earth is inhabited by living creatures. ¶ Of þe whiche litel regioun of þis worlde 1508
þe ferþe partie is enhabitid wiþ lyuyng beestes þat
we knowen. as þou hast þi self lerned by tholome þat
prouitħ it. Deduct from this the space occupied by seas, marshes, lakes, and deserts, and there remains but a small proportion left for the abode of man. ¶ yif þou haddest wiþ drawen and abated
in þi þouȝte fro þilke ferþe partie as myche space as þe 1512
see and [the] mareys contenen and ouergon and as
myche space as þe regioun of droughte ouerstreccheþ.

FAME IS CIRCUMSCRIBED.

þat is to seye sandes and desertes wel vnneþ sholde
[* fol. 14 b.] *þer dwellen a ryȝt streite place to þe habitacioun of 1516
men. And do you, who are confined to the least point of this point, think of nothing but of blazing far and wide your name and reputation? and ȝe þan þat ben environed and closed wiþ
inne þe leest[e] prikke of þilk prikke þenke ȝe to
manifesten ȝoure renoun and don ȝoure name to ben
born forþe. What is there great in a glory so circumscribed? but ȝoure glorie þat is so narwe and so 1520
streyt yþrongen in to so litel boundes. how myche
conteinþe it in largesse and in greet doynge. Even in this contracted circle, there is a great variety of nations, to whom not only the fame of particular men, but even of great cities, cannot extend. And also
sette þis þer to þat many a nacioun dyuerse of tonge
and of maneres. and eke of resoun of hir lyuyng ben 1524
enhabitid in þe cloos of þilke litel habitacle. ¶ To þe
whiche naciouns what for difficulte of weyes. and what
for diuersite of langages. and what for defaute of
vnusage entercomunynge of marchaundise. nat only þe 1528
names of singler men ne may [nat] strecchen. but eke
þe fame of Citees ne may nat strecchen. In the time of Marcus Tullius the fame of Rome did not reach beyond Mount Caucasus. ¶ At þe
last[e] Certis in þe tyme of Marcus tulyus as hym
self writeþ in his book þat þe renoun of þe comune of 1532
Rome ne hadde nat ȝitte passed ne cloumben ouer þe
mountaigne þat hyȝt Caucasus. and ȝitte was þilk
tyme rome wel wexen and gretly redouted of þe parthes.
and eke of oþer folk enhabityng aboute. How narrow, then, is that glory which you labour to propagate. ¶ Sest þou 1536
nat þan how streit and how compressed is þilke glorie
þat ȝe trauailen aboute to shew and to multiplie. Shall the glory of a Roman citizen reach those places where the name even of Rome was never heard? May
þan þe glorie of a singlere Romeyne strecchen þider
as þe fame of þe name of Rome may nat clymben ne 1540
passen. Customs and institutions differ in different countries. ¶ And eke sest þou nat þat þe maners of
diuerse folk and eke hir lawes ben discordaunt amonge
hem self. What is praise-worthy in one is blame-worthy in another. so þat þilke þing þat sommen iugen worþi of
preysynge. oþer folk iugen þat it is worþi of torment. 1544
It is not the interest of any man who desires renown to have his name spread through many countries.

FAME IS NOT ETERNAL.

¶ and þer of comeþ þat þouȝ a man delite hym in
preysyng of his renoun. he ne may nat in no wise
bryngen furþe ne spreden his name to many manere
peoples. He ought, therefore, to be satisfied with the glory he has acquired at home. ¶ And þerfore euery maner man auȝte to ben 1548
paied of hys glorie þat is puplissed among hys owen
neyȝbores. But of how many personages, illustrious in their times, have the memorials been lost through the carelessness and neglect of writers. ¶ And þilke noble renoun shal be
restreyned wiþ-inne þe boundes of o maner folk but how
many a man þat was ful noble in his tyme. haþ þe 1552
nedy and wrecched forȝetynge of writers put oute of
mynde and don awey. But writings do not preserve the names of men for ever. ¶ Al be it so þat certys þilke
writynges profiten litel. þe whiche writynges longe and
derke elde doþ aweye boþe hem and eke her autours. But perhaps you suppose that you shall secure immortality if your names are transmitted to future ages. but 1556
ȝe men semen to geten ȝow a perdurablete whan ȝe
þenke þat in tyme comyng ȝoure fame shal lasten. If you consider the infinite space of eternity you will have no reason to rejoice in this supposition. ¶ But
naþeles yif þou wilt maken comparisoun to þe endeles
space of eternite what þing hast þou by whiche þou 1560
maist reioysen þe of long lastyng of þi name. If a moment be compared with 10,000 years, there is a proportion between them, though a very small one. ¶ For
if þer were maked comparysoun of þe abidyng of a
moment to ten þousand wynter. for as myche as boþe
þo spaces ben endid. ¶ For ȝit haþ þe moment some 1564
porcioun of hit al þouȝ it a litel be. But this number of years, multiplied by whatever sum you please, vanishes when compared with the infinite extent of eternity. ¶ But naþeles
þilke self noumbre of ȝeres. and eke as many ȝeres as
þer to may be multiplied. ne may nat certys be comparisound
to þe perdurablete þat is een[de]les. There may be comparison between finite things, but none between the infinite and finite. ¶ For of 1568
þinges þat han ende may be mad comparisoun [but of
thinges that ben with-owtyn ende to thinges þat han ende
may be maked no comparysoun]. Hence it is, that Fame (however lasting), compared with eternity, will seem absolutely nothing. ¶ And for þi is it al
þouȝ renoun of as longe tyme as euer þe lyst to þinken 1572
were þouȝt by þe regard of eternite. þat is vnstauncheable
and infinit. it ne sholde nat oonly semen litel. but
pleinliche ryȝt nouȝt. But yet you do good from no other view than to have the empty applause of the people, foregoing the pleasures of a good conscience in order to have the insignificant praises of other people. ¶ But ȝe men certys ne konne
don no þing aryȝt. but ȝif it be for þe audience of poeple. 1576
and for ydel rumours. and ȝe forsaken þe grete worþinesse
of conscience and of vertue. and ȝe seken ȝoure
gerdouns of þe smale wordes of strange folke.

VANITY REPROVED.

This silly vanity was once thus ingeniously and pleasantly rallied. ¶ Haue now here and vndirstonde in þe lyȝtnesse of whiche 1580
pride and veyne glorie. how a man scorned[e] festiualy
and myrily swiche vanite. A certain man, who had assumed the name of a philosopher through a love of vain-glory, was told by a man of humour that he could prove he was a philosopher by bearing patiently the injuries offered him. somtyme þere was a man þat
had[de] assaied wiþ striuyng wordes an oþer man. ¶ þe
whiche nat for vsage of verrey vertue. but for proude 1584
veyne glorie had[de] taken vpon hym falsly þe name
of a philosopher. ¶ þis raþer man þat I speke of
þouȝt[e] he wolde assay[e] where he þilke were a
philosopher or no. þat is to seyne yif he wolde han suffred 1588
[* fol. 15.] lyȝtly in pacience þe wronges *þat weren don vnto
hym. After counterfeiting patience for a while, the sophist said to the other, ‘You must surely confess that I am a philosopher.’ ¶ þis feined[e] philosophre took pacience a
litel while. and whan he hadde receiued wordes of
outerage he as in stryuynge aȝeine and reioysynge of 1592
hym self seide at þe last[e] ryȝt þus. ¶ vndirstondest
þou nat þat I am a philosophere. ‘I might have believed it,’ said the other, ‘had you held your tongue.’ þat oþer man answered[e]
aȝein ful bityngly and seide. ¶ I had[de]
wel vndirstonden [yt]. yif þou haddest holden þi tonge 1596
stille. What advantage is it to great and worthy men to be extolled after death? ¶ But what is it to þise noble worþi men.
For certys of swyche folk speke .I. þat seken glorie wiþ
vertue. what is it quod she. what atteiniþ fame to
swiche folk whan þe body is resolued by þe deeþ. atte 1600
þe last[e]. If body and soul die, then there can be no glory; nor can there be when he (to whom it is ascribed) does not exist. ¶ For yif so be þat men dien in al. þat is
to seyne body and soule. þe whiche þing oure resoun
defendiþ vs to byleuen þanne is þere no glorie in no
wyse. For what sholde þilke glorie ben. for he of 1604
whom þis glorie is seid to be nis ryȝt nouȝt in no wise.
But if the soul is immortal when it leaves the body, it takes no thought of the joys of this world. and ȝif þe soule whiche þat haþ in it self science of
goode werkes vnbounden fro þe prisoun of þe erþe
wendeþ frely to þe heuene. dispiseþ it nouȝt þan alle 1608
erþely occupaciouns. and beynge in heuene reioiseþ þat
it is exempt from alle erþely þinges [as wo seith /
thanne rekketh the sowle of no glorye of renoun of this
world]. 1612

DEATH PUTS AN END TO RENOWN.

QUICUMQUE SOLAM MENTE.

Who so þat Let him who seeks fame, thinking it to be the sovereign good, look upon the broad universe and this circumscribed earth; and he will then despise a glorious name limited to such a confined space. wiþ ouerþrowyng þouȝt only sekeþ glorie
of fame. and weniþ þat it be souereyne good
¶ Lete hym loke vpon þe brode shewyng contreys of
þe heuen. and vpon þe streite sete of þis erþe. and 1616
he shal be ashamed of þe encres of his name. þat may
nat fulfille þe litel compas of þe erþe. ¶ O what
coueiten proude folke to liften vpon hire nekkes in
ydel and dedely ȝok of þis worlde. Will splendid titles and renown prolong a man’s life? ¶ For al þouȝ 1620
[þat] renoune y-spradde passynge to ferne poeples goþ
by dyuerse tonges. and al þouȝ grete houses and kynredes
shyne wiþ clere titles of honours. In the grave there is no distinction between high and low. ȝit naþeles
deeþ dispiseþ al heye glorie of fame. and deeþ wrappeþ 1624
to gidre þe heye heuedes and þe lowe and makeþ egal
and euene þe heyest[e] to þe lowest[e]. Where is the good Fabricius now? ¶ where
wonen now þe bones of trewe fabricius. Where the noble Brutus, or stern Cato? what is
now brutus or stiern Caton þe þinne fame ȝit lastynge 1628
of hir ydel names is markid wiþ a fewe lettres. Their empty names still live, but of their persons we know nothing. but
al þouȝ we han knowen þe faire wordes of þe fames of
hem. it is nat ȝeuen to knowe hem þat ben dede and
consumpt. Fame cannot make you known. Liggiþ þanne stille al vtterly vnknowable 1632
ne fame ne makeþ ȝow nat knowe. and yif ȝe wene
to lyuen þe lenger for wynde of ȝoure mortal name.
whan o cruel day shal rauyshe ȝow. þan is þe secunde
deeþ dwellyng in ȝow. It will be effaced by conquering Time, so that death will be doubly victorious. Glosa. þe first deeþ he clepiþ 1636
here þe departynge of þe body and þe soule. ¶ and
þe secunde deeþ he clepeþ as here. þe styntynge of
þe renoune of fame.3 3 The next three chapters are from the Camb. MS.

ADVERSE FORTUNE IS BENEFICIAL.

[SET NE ME INEXORABILE CONTRA. 

BVt ‘But do not believe,’ said Philosophy, ‘that I am an implacable enemy to Fortune. for-as-mochel as thow shalt nat wenen quod she 1640
þat I bere vntretable batayle ayenis fortune // This inconstant dame sometimes deserves well of men, when she appears in her true colours. yit
som-tyme it by-falleth þat she desseyuable desserueth
to han ryht good thank of men // And þat is whan she
hire self opneth / and whan she descouereth hir frownt / 1644
and sheweth hir maneres par-auenture yit vndirstondesthow
nat þat .I. shal seye // And what I say may perhaps appear paradoxical. it is a wondyr þat .I.
desyre to telle / That is, that adverse fortune is more beneficial than prosperous fortune. and forthi vnnethe may I. vnpleyten my
sentense with wordes for I. deme þat contraryos fortune 1648
profiteth more to men than fortune debonayre // The latter lies and deceives us, the former displays her natural inconstancy. For
al-wey whan fortune semeth debonayre than she lyeth
falsly in by-hetynge the hope of welefulnesse // but forsothe
contraryos fortune is alwey sothfast / whan she 1652
sheweth hir self vnstable thorw hyr chaungynge // That deceives us, this instructs us; that, by a fallacious show of good, enslaves the mind; this, by the knowledge of her fickleness, frees and absolves it. the
amyable fortune desseyueth folk / the contrarye fortune
techeth // the amyable fortune byndeth with the beaute
of false goodys the hertes of folk þat vsen hem / the 1656
contrarye fortune vnbyndeth hem by þ^e knowynge of
freele welefulnesse // The one is wavering and incapable of reflection, the other is staid and wise through experience of adversity. the amyable fortune maysthow sen
alwey wyndynge and flowynge / and euere mysknowynge
of hir self // the contrarye fortune is a-tempre and restreynyd 1660
and wys thorw excersyse of hir aduersyte // Lastly, prosperous fortune leads men astray. Adversity teaches them wherein real happiness consists. at
the laste amyable fortune with hir flaterynges draweth
mys wandrynge men fro the souereyne good // the contraryos
fortune ledith ofte folk ayein to sothfast goodes / 1664
and haleth hem ayein as with an hooke / It renders us no inconsiderable service in enabling us to recognize our true friends. weenesthow
thanne þat thow owhtest to leten this a lytel thing / þat
this aspre and horible fortune hath discoueryd to the / the
thowhtes of thy trewe frendes // For-why this ilke fortune 1668
hath departyd and vncoueryd to the bothe the
certeyn vysages and ek the dowtos visages of thy
felawes // whan she departyd awey fro the / she took
awey hyr frendes and lafte the thyne frendes // At what price would you not have bought this knowledge in your prosperity? now 1672
whan thow were ryche and weleful as the semede / with
how mochel woldesthow han bowht the fulle knowynge
of this // þat is to seyn the knowynge of thy
verray freendes // Complain not, then, of loss of wealth, since thou hast found infinitely greater riches in your true friends. now pleyne the nat thanne of Rychesse 1676
.I.-lorn syn thow hast fowndyn the moste presyos kynde
of Rychesses þat is to seyn thy verray frendes.

ALL THINGS BOUND BY THE CHAIN OF LOVE.

QUOD MUNDUS STABILI FIDE.

THat This world, by an invariable order, suffers change. þ^e world with stable feith / varieth acordable
chaungynges // Elements, that by nature disagree, are restrained by concord. þat the contraryos qualite of elementȝ 1680
holden amonge hem self aliaunce perdurable / þat phebus
the sonne with his goldene chariet / bryngeth forth the
rosene day / þat the mone hath commaundement ouer the
nyhtes // whiche nyhtes hesperus the eue sterre hat browt // 1684
The sea is thus kept within its proper bounds. þat þ^e se gredy to flowen constreyneth with a certeyn ende
hise floodes / so þat it is nat l[e]ueful to strechche hise
brode termes or bowndes vp-on the erthes // þat is to seyn
to couere alle the erthe // This concord is produced by love, which governeth earth and sea, and extends its influence to the heavens. Al this a-cordaunce of thinges 1688
is bownden with looue / þat gouerneth erthe and see / and
hath also commaundementȝ to the heuenes / If this chain of love were broken all things would be in perpetual strife, and the world would go to ruin. and yif
this looue slakede the brydelis / alle thinges þat now
louen hem to gederes / wolden maken a batayle contynuely 1692
and stryuen to fordoon the fasoun of this worlde /
the which they now leden in acordable feith by fayre
moeuynges // Love binds nations together, it ties the nuptial knot, and dictates binding laws to friendship. this looue halt to gideres poeples Ioygned
with an hooly bond / and knytteth sacrement of maryages 1696
of chaste looues // And loue enditeth lawes to
trewe felawes // Men were truly blest if governed by this celestial love!’ O weleful weere mankynde / yif thilke
loue þat gouerneth heuene gouerned[e] yowre corages /

EXPLICIT LIBER 2^us.

BOETHIUS IS COMFORTED BY PHILOSOPHY’S SONG.

INCIPIT LIBER 3^us.

IAM CANTUM ILLA FINIERAT.

By this she Philosophy now ended her song. hadde endid hire songe / whan the swetnesse 1700
of hire ditee hadde thorw perced me þat was desirous
of herkninge / I was so charmed that I kept a listening as if she were still speaking. and .I. astoned hadde yit streyhte myn
Eres / þat is to seyn to herkne the bet / what she wolde
seye // At last I said, O sovereign comforter of dejected minds, how much hast thou refreshed me with the energy of thy discourse, so that I now think myself almost an equal match for Fortune and able to resist her blows. so þat a litel here after .I. seyde thus // O thow 1704
þat art souereyn comfort of Angwissos corages // So thow
hast remounted and norysshed me with the weyhte of thy
sentenses and with delit of thy syngynge // so þat .I. trowe
nat now þat .I. be vnparygal to the strokes of fortune / as 1708
who seyth. I. dar wel now suffren al the assautes of fortune
and wel deffende me fro hyr // I fear not, therefore, thy remedies, but earnestly desire to hear what they are. and tho remedies
whyche þat thow seydest hire byforn weren ryht sharpe
Nat oonly pat .I. am nat agrysen of hem now // but .I. desiros 1712
of herynge axe gretely to heeren tho remedyes //
P. When I perceived that, silent and attentive, you received my words, I expected to find such a state of mind in you, or rather, I created in you such an one. than seyde she thus // þat feelede .I. ful wel quod she //
whan þat thow ententyf and stylle rauysshedest my
wordes // and .I. abood til þat thow haddest swych habyte 1716
of thy thowght as thow hast now // or elles tyl þat .I.
my self had[de] maked to the the same habyt / which
þat is a moore verray thinge // What remains to be said is of such a nature that when it is first tasted it is pungent and unpleasant, but when once swallowed it turns sweet, and is grateful to the stomach. And certes the remenaunt
of thinges þat ben yit to seye / ben swyche // þat fyrst 1720
whan men tasten hem they ben bytynge / but whan
they ben resseyuyd with-inne a whyht than ben they
swete // But because you say you would now gladly hear, with what desire would you burn if you could imagine whither I am going to lead you? but for thow seyst þat thow art so desirous to
herkne hem // wit[h] how gret brennynge woldesthow 1724
glowen / yif thow wystest whyder .I. wol leden the //
B. Whither is that, I pray? whydyre is þat quod .I. // P. To that true felicity, of which you seem to have but a faint foretaste. to thilke verray welefulnesse
quod she // of whyche thynge herte dremeth // But your sight is clouded with false forms, so that it cannot yet behold this same felicity. but
for as moche as thy syhte is ocupied and distorbed / by 1728
Imagynasyon of herthely thynges / thow mayst nat yit
sen thilke selue welefulnesse // B. Show me, I pray, that true happiness without delay. do quod .I. and shewe
me / what is thilke verray welefulnesse / .I. preye the
with-howte tarynge // P. I will gladly do so at your desire, but I will first describe that false cause (of happiness), so that you may be better able to comprehend the exact model. þat wole .I. gladly don quod she / 1732
for the cause of the // but .I. wol fyrst marken the by
wordes / and I wol enforcen me to enformen the //
thilke false cause of blysfulnesse þat thow more knowest /
so þat whan thow hast fully by-holden thilke false 1736
goodes and torned thyne eyen to þat oother syde / thow
mowe knowe the clernesse of verray blysfulnesse //]

AWAY WITH FALSE FELICITY!

*QUI SERERE INGENIUM.

He who would sow seed must first clear the ground of useless weeds, so that he may reap an abundant harvest. ¶ Who so wil sowe a felde plentiuous. lat hym first
delyuer it of þornes and kerue asondre wiþ his hooke 1740
þe bushes and þe ferne so þat þe corne may comen heuy
of eres and of greins. Honey tastes all the sweeter to a palate disgusted by offensive flavours. hony is þe more swete yif mouþes
han firste tastid sauoures þat ben wikke. The stars shine all the clearer when the southern showery blasts cease to blow. ¶ þe sterres
shynen more agreably whan þe wynde Nothus letiþ his 1744
ploungy blastes. When Lucifer has chased away the dark night, then Phœbus mounts his gay chariot. and aftir þat lucifer þe day sterre haþ
chased awey þe derke nyȝt. þe day þe feirer lediþ þe
rosene horse of þe sonne. So you, beholding the false felicity, and withdrawing your neck from the yoke of earthly affections, will soon see the sovereign good. ¶ Ryȝt so þou byholdyng
first þe fals[e] goodes. bygynne to wiþdrawe þi nek[ke] 1748
fro þe ȝok of erþely affecciouns. and afterwarde þe
verrey goodes shollen entre in to þi corage.

THE DESIRE OF THE TRUE GOOD.

TUNC DEFIXO PAULULUM.

ÞO fastned[e] Philosophy, with a serious air, and appearing to recollect herself, and to rouse up all her faculties, thus began. she a lytel þe syȝt of hir eyen and wiþdrow
hir ryȝt as it were in to þe streite sete of hir 1752
þouȝt. and bygan to speke ryȝt þus. All the cares and desires of men seek one end—happiness. Alle þe cures
quod she of mortal folk whiche þat trauaylen hem in
many manere studies gon certys by diuerse weies.
[* fol. 15 b.] ¶ But naþeles þei enforced hem *to comen oonly to on 1756
ende of blisfulnesse True happiness is that complete good which, once obtained, leaves nothing more to be desired. [And blysfulnesse] is swiche a goode
þat who so haþ geten it he ne may ouer þat no þing more
desiire. It is the sovereign good, and comprehends all others. It lacks nothing, otherwise it could not be the supreme good. and þis þing for soþe is þe souereyne good þat conteiniþ
in hym self al manere goodes. to þe whiche goode 1760
yif þere failed[e] any þing. it myȝt[e] nat ben souereyne
goode. ¶ For þan were þere som goode out of þis ilke souereyne
goode þat myȝt[e] ben desired. Happiness is, therefore, that perfect state, in which all other goods meet and centre. Now is it clere and
certeyne þan þat blisfulnesse is a perfit estat by þe congregacioun 1764
of alle goodes. It is the object which all men strive after. ¶ þe whiche blisfulnesse as
I haue seid alle mortal folke enforcen hem to geten by
dyuerse weyes. A desire of the true good is a natural instinct, but error misleads them to pursue false joys. ¶ For-whi þe couetise of verray goode
is naturely y-plaunted in þe hertys of men. ¶ But þe 1768
myswandryng errour myslediþ hem in to fals[e] goodes.
Some, imagining the supreme good to consist in lacking nothing, labour for an abundance of riches; others, supposing that this good lies in the reverence and esteem of their fellow men, strive to acquire honourable positions. ¶ of þe whiche men some of hem wenen þat souereygne
goode is to lyue wiþ outen nede of any þing.
and traueilen hem to ben habundaunt of rycchesse. 1772
and some oþer men demen. þat souerein goode be forto
be ryȝt digne of reuerences. and enforcen hem to ben
reuerenced among hir neyȝbours. by þe honours þat þei
han ygeten There are some, again, who place it in supreme power, and seek to rule, or to be favoured by the ruling powers. ¶ and some folk þer ben þat halden þat 1776
ryȝt heyȝe power to be souereyn goode. and enforcen
hem forto regnen or ellys to ioignen hem to hem þat
regnen. There are those who fancy fame to be the height of happiness, and seek by the arts of war or peace to get renown. ¶ And it semeþ to some oþer folk þat noblesse
of renoun be þe souerein goode. and hasten hem to 1780
geten glorious name by þe artes of werre or of pees.
Many there are who believe nothing to be better than joy and gladness, and think it delightful to plunge into luxury. and many folke mesuren and gessen þat souerein goode
be ioye and gladnesse and wenen þat it be ryȝt blisful
[thynge] to ploungen hem in uoluptuous delit. Some there are who use these causes and ends interchangeably, as those who desire riches as a means of getting power; or who desire power in order to get money or renown. ¶ And 1784
þer ben folk þat enterchaungen þe causes and þe endes
of þise forseide goodes as þei þat desiren rycchesse to
han power and delices. Or ellis þei desiren power forto
han moneye or for cause of renoun. In all they do they have a particular end in view. ¶ In þise þinges 1788
and in swyche oþer þinges is tourned al þe entencioun
of desirynges and [of] werkes of men. ¶ As þus.

FRIENDSHIP A SACRED THING.

Nobility and popular favour are sought after by some in order to become famous. ¶ Noblesse and fauour of poeple whiche þat ȝiueþ as it
semeþ a manere clernesse of renoun. By others, wives and children are only desired as sources of pleasure. ¶ and wijf and 1792
children þat men desiren for cause of delit and mirinesse.
Friendship must not be reckoned among the goods of fortune, but among those of virtue, for it is a very sacred thing. ¶ But forsoþe frendes ne shollen nat ben rekkened
among þe goodes of fortune but of vertue. for it
is a ful holy manere þing. All else are desired either for the power or pleasure they afford. alle þise oþer þinges forsoþe 1796
ben taken for cause of power. or ellis for cause of
delit. The goods of the body fall under the same predicament. ¶ Certis now am I redy to referen þe goodes of
þe body to þise forseide þinges abouen. Strength and a good stature seem to give power and worthiness. ¶ For it semeþ
þat strengþe and gretnesse of body ȝeuen power and 1800
worþinesse. Beauty and swiftness give glory and fame; and health gives delight. ¶ and þat beaute and swiftenesse ȝeuen
noblesse and glorie of renoun. and hele of body semeþ
ȝiuen delit. In all these happiness alone is sought. ¶ In alle þise þingus it semeþ oonly þat
blisfulnesse is desired. What a man most wishes for, that he esteems the supreme good, which, as we have defined, is happiness. ¶ For-whi þilke þing þat euery 1804
man desireþ moost ouer alle þinges. he demiþ þat be þe
souereyne goode. ¶ But I haue diffined þat blisfulnesse
is þe souereyne goode. for whiche euery wyȝt
demiþ þat þilke estat þat he desireþ ouer alle þinges þat 1808
it be þe blisfulnesse. Thou hast now before thee a view of human felicity (falsely so called), that is, riches, honours, power, glory, and delight, which last Epicurus considered as the sovereign good. ¶ Now hast þou þan byforne
[thy eyen] almost al þe purposed forme of þe welfulnesse
of mankynde. þat is to seyne rycchesse. honours.
power. glorie. and delitȝ. þe whiche delit oonly considered 1812
Epicurus Iuged and establissed. þat delit is þe
souereyne goode. for as myche as alle oþer þinges as
hym þouȝt[e] by-refte awey ioie and myrþe from þe
herte. I now return to the inclinations and pursuits of mankind. ¶ But I retourne aȝeyne to þe studies of meen. 1816
of whiche men þe corage alwey rehersiþ and seekeþ þe
souereyne goode of alle be it so þat it be wiþ a derke
memorie [but he not by whiche paath]. Their minds are bent upon the chief good, and are ever seeking it with a darkened understanding, like a drunken man, who cannot find his way home. ¶ Ryȝt as a
dronke man not nat by whiche paþe he may retourne 1820
home to hys house. Do they go astray who strive to keep themselves from want? ¶ Semeþ it þanne þat folk folyen
and erren þat enforcen hem to haue nede of no þing

ALL SEEK THE CHIEF GOOD.

By no means. No state is happier than that in which a man is above want, and independent of others. ¶ Certys þer nys non oþer þing þat may so weel perfourny
[* fol. 16.] blisfulnesse as an estat plenteuous *of alle 1824
goodes þat ne haþ nede of none oþer þing. but þat it is
suffisant of hym self. vnto hym self. Are they guilty of folly that seek esteem and reverence? and foleyen
swyche folk þanne. þat wenen þat þilk þing þat is
ryȝt goode. þat it be eke ryȝt worþi of honour and of 1828
reuerence. No; for that is not contemptible for which all men strive. ¶ Certis nay. for þat þing nys neyþer foule
ne worþi to ben dispised þat al þe entencioun of mortel
folke trauaille forto geten it. Is not power to be reckoned amongst desirable goods? ¶ And power auȝt[e]
nat þat eke to be rekened amonges goodes Why not? For that is not an insignificant good which invests a man with authority and command. what ellis. 1832
for it nys nat to wene þat þilke þing þat is most
worþi of alle þinges be feble and wiþ out strengþe and
clernesse of renoun auȝte þat to ben dispised. Fame also is to be regarded, for everything excellent is also shining and renowned. ¶ Certys
þer may no man forsake þat al þing þat is ryȝt excellent 1836
and noble. þat it ne semeþ to be ryȝt clere and renomed.
We hardly need say that happiness is not an unjoyous and melancholy state, for in the pursuit of the smallest matters men seek only pleasure. ¶ For certis it nediþ nat to seie. þat blisfulnesse
be anguissous ne dreri ne subgit to greuances ne
to sorwes. syn þat in ryȝt litel þingus folk seken to 1840
haue and to vsen þat may deliten hem. Hence it is that mankind seek riches, &c., because by them they hope to get independence, honour, &c. ¶ Certys þise
ben þe þinges þat men wolen and desyren to geten.
and for þis cause desiren þei rycches. dignites. regnes.
glorie and delices ¶ For þerby wenen þei to han suffisaunce 1844
honour power. renoun and gladnesse. However varied their desires, happiness is their sole pursuit. ¶ þanne
is it goode. þat men seken þus by so many dyuerse
studies. In whiche desijr it may lyȝtly be shewed.
how grete is þe strengþe of nature. However various men’s opinions are respecting happiness, all agree in pursuing it as the end of their actions and desires. ¶ For how so þat 1848
men han dyuerse sentences and discordyng algates men
accordyn alle in lyuynge þe ende of goode.