First woltow suffre me to touche and assaye the estat of thy

thought by a fewe demaundes, so that I may understonde what

be the manere of thy curacioun?'

'Axe me,' quod I, 'at thy wille, what thou wolt, and I shal

answere.'

Tho seide she thus: 'Whether wenestow,' quod she, 'that

this world be governed by foolish happes and fortunous, or

elles that ther be in it any governement of resoun?'

'Certes,' quod I, 'I ne trowe nat in no manere, that so

certein thinges sholde be moeved by fortunous fortune; but I

wot wel that god, maker and mayster, is governour of his werk.

Ne never nas yit day that mighte putte me out of the sothnesse

of that sentence.'

'So is it,' quod she; 'for the same thing songe thou a litel

her-biforn, and biweyledest and biweptest, that only men weren

put out of the cure of god. For of alle other thinges thou

ne doutedest nat that they nere governed by resoun. But owh!

(i. pape!) I wondre gretly, certes, why that thou art syk, sin

that thou art put in so holsom a sentence. But lat us seken

depper; I coniecte that ther lakketh I not nere what. But

sey me this: sin that thou ne doutest nat that this world be

governed by god, with whiche governailes takestow hede that

it is governed?'

'Unnethe,' quod I, 'knowe I the sentence of thy questioun;

so that I ne may nat yit answeren to thy demaundes.'

'I nas nat deceived,' quod she, 'that ther ne faileth somwhat,

by whiche the maladye of thy perturbacioun is crept into

thy thought, so as the strengthe of the palis chyning is open.

But sey me this: remembrest thou what is the ende of thinges,

and whider that the entencioun of alle kinde tendeth?'

'I have herd it told som-tyme,' quod I; 'but drerinesse hath

dulled my memorie.'

'Certes,' quod she, 'thou wost wel whennes that alle thinges

ben comen and procedeth?'

'I wot wel,' quod I, and answerede, that 'god is beginning

of al.'

'And how may this be,' quod she, 'that, sin thou knowest

the beginning of thinges, that thou ne knowest nat what is the

ende of thinges? But swiche ben the customes of perturbaciouns,

and this power they han, that they may moeve a

man out of his place, that is to seyn, fro the stablenes and perfeccioun

of his knowinge; but, certes, they may nat al arace

him, ne aliene him in al. But I wolde that thou woldest

answere to this: remembrestow that thou art a man?'

'Why sholde I nat remembre that?' quod I.

'Maystow nat telle me thanne,' quod she, 'what thing is a man?'

'Axestow me nat,' quod I, 'whether that I be a resonable

mortal beest? I woot wel, and I confesse wel that I am it.'

'Wistestow never yit that thou were any other thing?' quod

she.

'No,' quod I.

'Now woot I,' quod she, 'other cause of thy maladye, and

that right grete. Thou hast left for to knowen thy-self, what

thou art; thorugh whiche I have pleynly founden the cause of

thy maladye, or elles the entree of recoveringe of thyn hele.

For-why, for thou art confounded with foryeting of thy-self, for-thy

sorwestow that thou art exiled of thy propre goodes. And

for thou ne wost what is the ende of thinges, for-thy demestow

that felonous and wikked men ben mighty and weleful. And

for thou hast foryeten by whiche governements the world is

governed, for-thy wenestow that thise mutaciouns of fortune

fleten with-oute governour. Thise ben grete causes not only

to maladye, but, certes, grete causes to deeth. But I thanke

the auctor and the maker of hele, that nature hath not al

forleten thee. I have grete norisshinges of thyn hele, and that

is, the sothe sentence of governaunce of the worlde; that thou

bilevest that the governinge of it nis nat subiect ne underput

to the folie of thise happes aventurous, but to the resoun of

god. And ther-for doute thee no-thing; for of this litel spark

thyn hete of lyf shal shyne.

But for as moche as it is nat tyme yit of faster remedies, and

the nature of thoughtes deceived is this, that as ofte as they

casten awey sothe opiniouns, they clothen hem in false opiniouns,

of which false opiniouns the derkenesse of perturbacioun wexeth

up, that confoundeth the verray insighte: and that derkenesse

shal I assaye som-what to maken thinne and wayk by lighte

and meneliche remedies; so that, after that the derkenesse of

deceivinge desiringes is don awey, thou mowe knowe the shyninge

of verray light.

The sterres, covered with blake cloudes, ne mowen yeten

a-doun no light. Yif the trouble wind that hight Auster, turning

and walwinge the see, medleth the hete, that is to seyn,

the boyling up from the botme; the wawes, that whylom weren

clere as glas and lyke to the faire clere dayes, withstande anon

the sightes of men by the filthe and ordure that is resolved.

And the fletinge streem, that royleth doun dyversly fro heye

mountaignes, is arested and resisted ofte tyme by the encountringe

of a stoon that is departed and fallen from som roche.

And for-thy, yif thou wolt loken and demen sooth with cleer

light, and holden the wey with a right path, weyve thou Ioye,

dryf fro thee drede, fleme thou hope, ne lat no sorwe aproche;

that is to seyn, lat non of thise four passiouns over-comen thee

or blende thee. For cloudy and derke is thilke thought, and

bounde with brydles, where-as thise thinges regnen.'

After this she stinte a litel; and, after that she hadde gadered

by atempre stillenesse myn attencioun, she seide thus: (As who

mighte seyn thus: After thise thinges she stinte a litel; and whan

she aperceived by atempre stillenesse that I was ententif to herkene

hir, she bigan to speke in this wyse): 'Yif I,' quod she, 'have

understonden and knowen outrely the causes and the habit of

thy maladye, thou languissest and art defeted for desyr and

talent of thy rather fortune. She, that ilke Fortune only, that

is chaunged, as thou feynest, to thee-ward, hath perverted the

cleernesse and the estat of thy corage. I understonde the

fele-folde colours and deceites of thilke merveilous monstre

Fortune, and how she useth ful flateringe familaritee with hem

that she enforceth to bigyle; so longe, til that she confounde

with unsufferable sorwe hem that she hath left in despeyr unpurveyed.

And yif thou remembrest wel the kinde, the maneres,

and the desert of thilke Fortune, thou shalt wel knowe that,

as in hir, thou never ne haddest ne hast y-lost any fair thing.

But, as I trowe, I shal nat gretly travailen to do thee remembren

on thise thinges. For thou were wont to hurtelen and despysen

hir, with manly wordes, whan she was blaundissinge and present,

and pursewedest hir with sentences that were drawen out of myn

entree, that is to seyn, out of myn informacioun. But no sodein

mutacioun ne bitydeth nat with-oute a manere chaunginge of

corages; and so is it befallen that thou art a litel departed

fro the pees of thy thought.

But now is tyme that thou drinke and ataste some softe and

delitable thinges; so that, whan they ben entred with-in thee,

it mowe maken wey to strengere drinkes of medicynes. Com

now forth therfore the suasioun of swetenesse rethorien, whiche

that goth only the right wey, whyl she forsaketh nat myne estatuts.

And with Rhetorice com forth Musice, a damisel of our hous,

that singeth now lighter moedes or prolaciouns, now hevyer.

What eyleth thee, man? What is it that hath cast thee in-to

morninge and in-to wepinge? I trowe that thou hast seyn

som newe thing and uncouth. Thou wenest that Fortune be

chaunged ayein thee; but thou wenest wrong, yif thou that

wene. Alwey tho ben hir maneres; she hath rather kept, as

to thee-ward, hir propre stablenesse in the chaunginge of hir-self.

Right swich was she whan she flatered thee, and deceived

thee with unleveful lykinges of fals welefulnesse. Thou

hast now knowen and ataynt the doutous or double visage of

thilke blinde goddesse Fortune. She, that yit covereth hir and

wimpleth hir to other folk, hath shewed hir every-del to thee.

Yif thou aprovest hir and thenkest that she is good, use hir

maneres and pleyne thee nat. And yif thou agrysest hir false

trecherye, despyse and cast awey hir that pleyeth so harmfully;

for she, that is now cause of so muche sorwe to thee, sholde

ben cause to thee of pees and of Ioye. She hath forsaken

thee, forsothe; the whiche that never man may ben siker that

she ne shal forsake him.

Glose. But natheles, some bokes han the text thus: For sothe,

she hath forsaken thee, ne ther nis no man siker that she ne

hath nat forsaken.

Holdestow than thilke welefulnesse precious to thee that shal

passen? And is present Fortune dereworthe to thee, which that

nis nat feithful for to dwelle; and, whan she goth awey, that

she bringeth a wight in sorwe? For sin she may nat ben withholden

at a mannes wille, she maketh him a wrecche whan she

departeth fro him. What other thing is flittinge Fortune but a

maner shewinge of wrecchednesse that is to comen? Ne it ne

suffyseth nat only to loken on thinge that is present biforn the

eyen of a man. But wisdom loketh and amesureth the ende

of thinges; and the same chaunginge from oon in-to an-other,

that is to seyn, from adversitee in-to prosperitee, maketh that the

manaces of Fortune ne ben nat for to dreden, ne the flateringes

of hir to ben desired. Thus, at the laste, it bihoveth thee to

suffren with evene wille in pacience al that is don in-with the

floor of Fortune, that is to seyn, in this world, sin thou hast

ones put thy nekke under the yok of hir. For yif thou wolt

wryten a lawe of wendinge and of dwellinge to Fortune, whiche

that thou hast chosen frely to ben thy lady, artow nat wrongful

in that, and makest Fortune wroth and aspere by thyn inpatience,

and yit thou mayst nat chaunge hir?

Yif thou committest and bitakest thy sailes to the winde, thou

shall be shoven, not thider that thou woldest, but whider that the

wind shoveth thee. Yif thou castest thy sedes in-to the feldes,

thou sholdest han in minde that the yeres ben, amonges, other-whyle

plentevous and other-whyle bareyne. Thou hast bitaken

thy-self to the governaunce of Fortune, and for-thy it bihoveth

thee to ben obeisaunt to the maneres of thy lady. Enforcest

thou thee to aresten or withholden the swiftnesse and the sweigh

of hir turninge whele? O thou fool of alle mortal fooles, if

Fortune bigan to dwelle stable, she cesede thanne to ben

Fortune!

Whan Fortune with a proud right hand hath torned hir

chaunginge stoundes, she fareth lyk the maneres of the boilinge

Eurype. Glosa. Eurype is an arm of the see that ebbeth and

floweth; and som-tyme the streem is on o syde, and som-tyme on

the other. Text. She, cruel Fortune, casteth adoun kinges

that whylom weren y-drad; and she, deceivable, enhaunseth up

the humble chere of him that is discomfited. Ne she neither

hereth ne rekketh of wrecchede wepinges; and she is so hard

that she laugheth and scorneth the wepinges of hem, the whiche

she hath maked wepe with hir free wille. Thus she pleyeth,

and thus she proeueth hir strengthes; and sheweth a greet wonder

to alle hir servauntes, yif that a wight is seyn weleful, and over-throwe

in an houre.

Certes, I wolde pleten with thee a fewe thinges, usinge the

wordes of Fortune; tak hede now thy-self, yif that she axeth

right. "O thou man, wher-fore makest thou me gilty by thyne

every-dayes pleyninges? What wrong have I don thee? What

goodes have I bireft thee that weren thyne? Stryf or plete

with me, bifore what Iuge that thou wolt, of the possessioun

of richesses or of dignitees. And yif thou mayst shewen me

that ever any mortal man hath received any of tho thinges to

ben hise in propre, than wol I graunte frely that alle thilke

thinges weren thyne whiche that thou axest. Whan that nature

broughte thee forth out of thy moder wombe, I receyved thee

naked and nedy of alle thinges, and I norisshede thee with my

richesses, and was redy and ententif through my favour to

susteyne thee; and that maketh thee now inpacient ayeins me;

and I envirounde thee with alle the aboundance and shyninge

of alle goodes that ben in my right. Now it lyketh me to

with-drawen my hand; thou hast had grace as he that hath

used of foreine goodes: thou hast no right to pleyne thee, as

though thou haddest outrely for-lorn alle thy thinges. Why

pleynest thou thanne? I have done thee no wrong. Richesses,

honours, and swiche other thinges ben of my right. My servauntes

knowen me for hir lady; they comen with me, and departen

whan I wende. I dar wel affermen hardily, that yif tho thinges,

of which thou pleynest that thou hast forlorn, hadde ben thyne,

thou ne haddest not lorn hem. Shal I thanne only ben defended

to usen my right?

Certes, it is leveful to the hevene to make clere dayes, and,

after that, to coveren tho same dayes with derke nightes. The

yeer hath eek leve to apparailen the visage of the erthe, now

with floures and now with fruit, and to confounden hem som-tyme

with reynes and with coldes. The see hath eek his right

to ben som-tyme calme and blaundishing with smothe water,

and som-tyme to ben horrible with wawes and with tempestes.

But the covetise of men, that may nat ben stanched, shal it

binde me to ben stedefast, sin that stedefastnesse is uncouth

to my maneres? Swich is my strengthe, and this pley I pleye

continuely. I torne the whirlinge wheel with the torning cercle;

I am glad to chaungen the lowest to the heyest, and the heyest

to the lowest. Worth up, if thou wolt, so it be by this lawe,

that thou ne holde nat that I do thee wronge thogh thou

descende adoun, whan the resoun of my pley axeth it.

Wistest thou nat how Cresus, the king of Lydiens, of whiche

king Cyrus was ful sore agast a litel biforn, that this rewliche

Cresus was caught of Cyrus and lad to the fyr to ben brent,

but that a rayn descendede doun fro hevene that rescowede

him? And is it out of thy minde how that Paulus, consul of

Rome, whan he hadde taken the king of Perciens, weep pitously

for the captivitee of the self kinge? What other thing biwailen

the cryinges of tragedies but only the dedes of Fortune, that

with an unwar stroke overtorneth realmes of grete nobley?

Glose. Tragedie is to seyn, a ditee of a prosperitee for a tyme,

that endeth in wrecchednesse.

Lernedest nat thou in Greke, whan thou were yonge, that

in the entree, or in the celere, of Iupiter, ther ben couched two

tonnes; that on is ful of good, that other is ful of harm? What

right hast thou to pleyne, yif thou hast taken more plentevously

of the goode syde, that is to seyn, of my richesses and prosperites;

and what eek if I ne be nat al departed fro thee? What eek

yif my mutabilitee yiveth thee rightful cause of hope to han yit

beter thinges? Natheles dismaye thee nat in thy thought; and

thou that art put in the comune realme of alle, ne desyre nat to

liven by thyn only propre right.

Though Plentee, that is goddesse of richesses, hielde adoun

with ful horn, and withdraweth nat hir hand, as many richesses

as the see torneth upward sandes whan it is moeved with

ravisshinge blastes, or elles as many richesses as ther shynen

brighte sterres on hevene on the sterry nightes; yit, for al

that, mankinde nolde not cese to wepe wrecchede pleyntes.

And al be it so that god receyveth gladly hir preyers, and

yiveth them (as fool-large) moche gold, and aparaileth coveitous

men with noble or clere honours: yit semeth hem haven y-geten

no-thing, but alwey hir cruel ravyne, devouringe al that they

han geten, sheweth other gapinges; that is to seyn, gapen and

desyren yit after mo richesses. What brydles mighten withholden,

to any certein ende, the desordenee covetise of men, whan,

ever the rather that it fleteth in large yiftes, the more ay brenneth

in hem the thurst of havinge? Certes he that, quakinge and

dredful, weneth him-selven nedy, he ne liveth never-more riche."

Therfor, yif that Fortune spake with thee for hir-self in this

manere, for-sothe thou ne haddest nat what thou mightest answere.

And, if thou hast any-thing wherwith, thou mayest rightfully defenden

thy compleint, it behoveth thee to shewen it; and I wol

yeven thee space to tellen it.'

'Certeynly,' quod I thanne, 'thise beth faire thinges, and

enointed with hony swetenesse of rethorike and musike; and

only whyl they ben herd they ben delicious. But to wrecches is

a depper felinge of harm; this is to seyn, that wrecches felen the

harmes that they suffren more grevously than the remedies or the

delites of thise wordes mowen gladen or comforten hem; so that,

whan thise thinges stinten for to soune in eres, the sorwe that is

inset greveth the thought.'

'Right so is it,' quod she. 'For thise ne ben yit none remedies

of thy maladye; but they ben a maner norisshinges of thy sorwe,

yit rebel ayein thy curacioun. For whan that tyme is, I shal

moeve swiche thinges that percen hem-self depe. But natheles,

that thou shalt not wilne to leten thy-self a wrecche, hast thou

foryeten the noumber and the manere of thy welefulnesse? I

holde me stille, how that the soverayne men of the citee token

thee in cure and kepinge, whan thou were orphelin of fader and

moder, and were chosen in affinitee of princes of the citee; and

thou bigunne rather to be leef and dere than forto ben a neighbour;

the whiche thing is the most precious kinde of any propinquitee

or alyaunce that may ben. Who is it that ne seide tho

that thou were right weleful, with so grete a nobleye of thy fadres-in-lawe,

and with the chastitee of thy wyf, and with the oportunitee

and noblesse of thy masculin children, that is to seyn, thy sones?

And over al this—me list to passen the comune thinges—how

thou haddest in thy youthe dignitees that weren werned to olde

men. But it delyteth me to comen now to the singuler uphepinge

of thy welefulnesse. Yif any fruit of mortal thinges may han any

weighte or prys of welefulnesse, mightest thou ever foryeten, for

any charge of harm that mighte bifalle, the remembraunce of

thilke day that thou saye thy two sones maked conseileres, and

y-lad to-gedere fro thyn house under so greet assemblee of

senatoures and under the blythenesse of poeple; and whan thou

saye hem set in the court in here chayeres of dignitees? Thou,

rethorien or pronouncere of kinges preysinges, deservedest glorie

of wit and of eloquence, whan thou, sittinge bitwene thy two sones,

conseileres, in the place that highte Circo, fulfuldest the abydinge

of the multitude of poeple that was sprad abouten thee, with so large

preysinge and laude, as men singen in victories. Tho yave thou

wordes to Fortune, as I trowe, that is to seyn, tho feffedest thou

Fortune with glosinge wordes and deceivedest hir, whan she acoyede

thee and norisshede thee as hir owne delyces. Thou bere away of

Fortune a yifte, that is to seyn, swiche guerdoun, that she never yaf

to privee man. Wilt thou therfor leye a rekeninge with Fortune?

She hath now twinkled first upon thee with a wikkede eye. Yif

thou considere the noumbre and the manere of thy blisses and

of thy sorwes, thou mayst nat forsaken that thou art yit blisful.

For if thou therfor wenest thy-self nat weleful, for thinges that

tho semeden ioyful ben passed, ther nis nat why thou sholdest wene

thy-self a wrecche; for thinges that semen now sorye passen also.

Art thou now comen first, a sodein gest, in-to the shadwe or

tabernacle of this lyf; or trowest thou that any stedefastnesse be

in mannes thinges, whan ofte a swift houre dissolveth the same

man; that is to seyn, whan the soule departeth fro the body? For,

al-though that selde is ther any feith that fortunous thinges wolen

dwellen, yit natheles the laste day of a mannes lyf is a manere

deeth to Fortune, and also to thilke that hath dwelt. And therfor,

what, wenestow, thar [thee] recche, yif thou forlete hir in deyinge,

or elles that she, Fortune, forlete thee in fleeinge awey?

Whan Phebus, the sonne, biginneth to spreden his cleernesse

with rosene chariettes, thanne the sterre, y-dimmed, paleth hir

whyte cheres, by the flambes of the sonne that overcometh the

sterre-light. This is to seyn, whan the sonne is risen, the dey-sterre

wexeth pale, and leseth hir light for the grete brightnesse of the

sonne.

Whan the wode wexeth rody of rosene floures, in the first somer

sesoun, thorugh the brethe of the winde Zephirus that wexeth

warm, yif the cloudy wind Auster blowe felliche, than goth awey

the fairenesse of thornes.

Ofte the see is cleer and calm withoute moevinge flodes; and

ofte the horrible wind Aquilon moeveth boilinge tempestes and

over-whelveth the see.

Yif the forme of this worlde is so selde stable, and yif it turneth

by so many entrechaunginges, wolt thou thanne trusten in the

tomblinge fortunes of men? Wolt thou trowen on flittinge goodes?

It is certein and establisshed by lawe perdurable, that no-thing that

is engendred nis stedefast ne stable.'

Thanne seide I thus: 'O norice of alle vertues, thou seist ful

sooth; ne I ne may nat forsake the right swifte cours of my

prosperitee; that is to seyn, that prosperitee ne be comen to me

wonder swiftly and sone. But this is a thing that greetly smerteth

me whan it remembreth me. For in alle adversitee of fortune,

the most unsely kinde of contrarious fortune is to han ben

weleful.'

'But that thou,' quod she, 'abyest thus the torment of thy

false opinioun, that mayst thou nat rightfully blamen ne aretten

to thinges: as who seith, for thou hast yit many habundaunces of

thinges.

Text. For al be it so that the ydel name of aventurous

welefulnesse moeveth thee now, it is leveful that thou rekne with

me of how manye grete thinges thou hast yit plentee. And

therfor, yif that thilke thing that thou haddest for most precious

in al thy richesse of fortune be kept to thee yit, by the grace of

god, unwemmed and undefouled, mayst thou thanne pleyne

rightfully upon the meschef of Fortune, sin thou hast yit thy

beste thinges? Certes, yit liveth in good point thilke precious

honour of mankinde, Symacus, thy wyves fader, which that is

a man maked alle of sapience and of vertu; the whiche man

thou woldest byen redely with the prys of thyn owne lyf. He

biwayleth the wronges that men don to thee, and nat for him-self;

for he liveth in sikernesse of any sentences put ayeins him. And

yit liveth thy wyf, that is atempre of wit, and passinge other

wimmen in clennesse of chastetee; and for I wol closen shortely

hir bountees, she is lyk to hir fader. I telle thee wel, that she

liveth looth of this lyf, and kepeth to thee only hir goost; and is

al maat and overcomen by wepinge and sorwe for desyr of thee,

in the whiche thing only I moot graunten that thy welefulnesse is

amenused. What shal I seyn eek of thy two sones, conseilours,

of whiche, as of children of hir age, ther shyneth the lyknesse of

the wit of hir fader or of hir elder fader? And sin the sovereyn

cure of alle mortel folk is to saven hir owen lyves, O how weleful

art thou, yif thou knowe thy goodes! For yit ben ther

thinges dwelled to thee-ward, that no man douteth that they ne

ben more dereworthe to thee than thyn owen lyf. And for-thy

drye thy teres, for yit nis nat everich fortune al hateful to thee-ward,

ne over greet tempest hath nat yit fallen upon thee, whan

that thyn ancres cleven faste, that neither wolen suffren the

counfort of this tyme present ne the hope of tyme cominge to

passen ne to faylen.'

'And I preye,' quod I, 'that faste moten they halden; for

whyles that they halden, how-so-ever that thinges ben, I shal wel

fleten forth and escapen; but thou mayst wel seen how grete

aparayles and aray that me lakketh, that ben passed away fro

me.'

'I have som-what avaunsed and forthered thee,' quod she, 'yif

that thou anoye nat or forthinke nat of al thy fortune: as who

seith, I have som-what comforted thee, so that thou tempest thee nat

thus with al thy fortune, sin thou hast yit thy beste thinges. But

I may nat suffren thy delices, that pleynest so wepinge and

anguissous, for that ther lakketh som-what to thy welefulnesse.

For what man is so sad or of so parfit welefulnesse, that he ne

stryveth and pleyneth on som halve ayen the qualitee of his

estat? For-why ful anguissous thing is the condicioun of mannes

goodes; for either it cometh nat al-togider to a wight, or elles it

last nat perpetuel. For sum man hath grete richesses, but he is

ashamed of his ungentel linage; and som is renowned of noblesse

of kinrede, but he is enclosed in so grete anguisshe of nede

of thinges, that him were lever that he were unknowe. And

som man haboundeth both in richesse and noblesse, but yit he

bewaileth his chaste lyf, for he ne hath no wyf. And som man is

wel and selily y-maried, but he hath no children, and norissheth

his richesses to the eyres of strange folkes. And som man is

gladed with children, but he wepeth ful sory for the trespas of

his sone or of his doughter. And for this ther ne acordeth no

wight lightly to the condicioun of his fortune; for alwey to every

man ther is in som-what that, unassayed, he ne wot nat; or elles

he dredeth that he hath assayed. And adde this also, that every

weleful man hath a ful delicat felinge; so that, but-yif alle thinges

bifalle at his owne wil, for he is impacient, or is nat used to han

non adversitee, anon he is throwen adoun for every litel thing.

And ful litel thinges ben tho that withdrawen the somme or the

perfeccioun of blisfulnesse fro hem that ben most fortunat. How

many men, trowest thou, wolden demen hem-self to ben almost in

hevene, yif they mighten atayne to the leest party of the remnaunt

of thy fortune? This same place that thou clepest exil, is

contree to hem that enhabiten heer, and forthy nothing [is]

wrecched but whan thou wenest it: as who seith, thou thy-self, ne

no wight elles, nis a wrecche, but whan he weneth him-self a wrecche

by reputacioun of his corage. And ayeinward, alle fortune is blisful

to a man by the agreabletee or by the egalitee of him that

suffreth it.

What man is that, that is so weleful, that nolde changen his

estat whan he hath lost pacience? The swetnesse of mannes

welefulnesse is sprayned with many biternesses; the whiche welefulnesse,

al-though it seme swete and ioyful to hem that useth it,

yit may it nat ben with-holden that it ne goth away whan it wole.

Thanne is it wel sene, how wrecched is the blisfulnesse of mortal

thinges, that neither it dureth perpetuel with hem that every

fortune receiven agreablely or egaly, ne it delyteth nat in al to

hem that ben anguissous. O ye mortal folk, what seke ye thanne

blisfulnesse out of your-self, whiche that is put in your-self?

Errour and folye confoundeth yow.

I shal shewe thee shortely the poynt of sovereyne blisfulnesse.

Is ther any-thing more precious to thee than thy-self? Thou

wolt answere, "nay." Thanne, yif it so be that thou art mighty

over thy-self, that is to seyn, by tranquillitee of thy sowle, than hast

thou thing in thy power that thou noldest never lesen, ne Fortune

ne may nat beneme it thee. And that thou mayst knowe that

blisfulnesse ne may nat standen in thinges that ben fortunous

and temporel, now understonde and gader it to-gidere thus:

Yif blisfulnesse be the sovereyn good of nature that liveth by

resoun, ne thilke thing nis nat sovereyn good that may be taken

awey in any wyse, (for more worthy thing and more digne is

thilke thing that may nat ben taken awey); than sheweth it wel,

that the unstablenesse of fortune may nat atayne to receiven

verray blisfulnesse. And yit more-over: what man that this

toumbling welefulnesse ledeth, either he woot that it is chaungeable,

or elles he woot it nat. And yif he woot it nat, what blisful

fortune may ther be in the blindnesse of ignorance? And yif he

woot that it is chaungeable, he moot alwey ben adrad that he ne

lese that thing that he ne doubteth nat but that he may lesen it;

as who seith, he mot ben alwey agast, lest he lese that he wot wel he

may lese it. For which, the continuel dreed that he hath ne

suffreth him nat to ben weleful. Or yif he lese it, he weneth to

be dispysed and forleten. Certes eek, that is a ful litel good that

is born with evene herte whan it is lost; that is to seyn, that men

do no more fors of the lost than of the havinge. And for as moche

as thou thy-self art he, to whom it hath ben shewed and proved

by ful manye demonstraciouns, as I wot wel, that the sowles of

men ne mowe nat deyen in no wyse; and eek sin it is cleer and

certein, that fortunous welefulnesse endeth by the deeth of the

body; it may nat ben douted that, yif that deeth may take awey

blisfulnesse, that alle the kinde of mortal thinges ne descendeth

in-to wrecchednesse by the ende of the deeth. And sin we knowen

wel, that many a man hath sought the fruit of blisfulnesse nat

only with suffringe of deeth, but eek with suffringe of peynes and

tormentes; how mighte than this present lyf maken men blisful,

sin that, whan thilke selve lyf is ended, it ne maketh folk no

wrecches?