With all mine herte, me to lere,
That I trespace in no manere."

The god of love then charged me
Anon, as ye shall here and see,
Word by word, by right emprise,
So as the Romaunt shall devise.

The maister leseth his time to lere,
When the disciple woll not here,
It is but vaine on him to swinke,
That on his learning woll not thinke,
Who so lust love, let him entend,

For now the Romance beginneth to amend.
Now is good to heare in fay,

If any be that can it say,
And point it as the reason is
Set for other gate iwis,

It shall nat well in all thing,
Be brought to good understanding,
For a reader that pointeth ill,
A good sentence may oft spill:
The booke is good at the ending,
Made of newe and lustie thing:
For who so woll the ending here,
The craft of love he shall now lere,
If that he woll so long abide,
Till I this Romaunce maie unhide,
And undoe the signifiaunce
Of this dreame into Romaunce,
The soothfastnesse that now is hid,
Without coverture shall be kid,
When I undoen haue this dreaming,
Wherein no worde is of leasing.

"VILLANIE at the beginning,
I woll," sayd Love, "over all thing
Thou leave, if thou wolt ue be
False, and trespace ayenst me;
I curse and blame generally
All hem that loven villany,
For villanie maketh villeine
And by his deeds a chorle is seine.
"These villaines arne without pitie,
Friendship, love, and all bountie.
I nill receive unto my servise
Hem that been villaines of emprise.
"But understond in thine entent,
That this is not mine entendement,
To clepe no wight in no ages
Onely gentle for his linages:
But who so is vertuous,

And in his port not outrageous,

When such one thou seest thee beforne,
Though he be not gentle borne,
Thou maiest well seine this in sooth,
That he is gentle, because he doth
As longeth to a gentleman:
Of hem none other deme I can,
For certainly withouten dreede,
A churle is demed by his deede,
Of hye or lowe, as ye may see,
Or of what kinred that he bee.
Ne say nought for none euill will,
Thing that is to holden still,
It is no worship to missaie,
Thou mayest ensample take of Kaie,
That was sometime for missayeng,
Hated both of old and yeng:
As ferre as Gawein the worthie,
Was praysed for his courtesie,

Kaie was hated, for he was fell,
Of word dispitous and cruell;
Wherefore be wise and acqueintable,
Goodly of word, and reasonable:
Both to lesse and eke to mare,

And when thou commest there men are,
Looke that thou haue in custome ay,
First to salue hem if thou may:
And if it fall, that of hem somme
Salue the first, be not domme,
But quite him courtesly anone
Without abiding, ere they gone.

"For nothing eke thy tongue applie
To speake words of ribauldrie,
To villaine speech in no degree
Let neuer thy lippe unbounden bee:
For I nought hold him in good faith
Curteis, that foule wordes saith:
And all women serue and preise,
And to thy power hir honour reise:
And if that any missayere
Despise women, that thou maist here,
Blame him, and bid him hold him still,
And set thy might and all thy will
Women and ladies for to please,
And to doe thing that may hem ease,
That they euer speake good of thee,
For so thou maiest best praised bee.

"Looke fro pride thou keepe thee wele,
For thou maiest both perceiue and feele,
That pride is both folly and sin,
And he that pride hath him within,
Ne may his herte in no wise,
Meken ne souplen to seruice:
For pride is found in euerie part,
Contrarie vnto Loues art:
And he that loueth truely,
Should him conteine iollily,
Without pride in sundrie wise,
And him disguisen in queintise,
For queint array, without drede,
Is nothing proude, who taketh hede,
For fresh array, as men may see,
Without pride may ofte bee.

"Maintaine thy selfe after thy rent,
Of robe and eke of garment,
For many sithe faire clothing
A man amendeth in much thing.

"And looke alway that they be shape, (What garment that thou shalt make) Of him that can best do,

With all that partaineth thereto,
Pointes and sleeues be well sittand,
Right and streight on the hand,
Of shone and bootes, new and faire,
Looke at the least you haue a paire,
And that they sit so fetously,
That these rude may vtterly
Maruaile, sith that they sit so plaine,
How they come on or off againe.
Weare streighte gloues with aumere
Of silke: and alway with good chere
Thou yeue, if thou haue richesse,
And if thon haue nought, spend the lesse.
Alway be merry, if thou may,
But waste not thy good alway;
Haue hatte of floures fresh as May,
Chapelet of roses of Witsunday,
For such arrie ne costneth but lite.
Thine hondes wash, thy teeth make white,

For the wordes little greede,

And let no filth upon thee bee,

Thy nayles blacke, if thou maiest see, Uoide it alwaie deliuerly,

And kembe thine head right iollily:
Farce not thy visage in no wise,
For that of loue is nat themprise,
For loue doth haten, as I finde,

A beautie that commeth not of kinde:
Alway in herte I read thee,
Glad and merry for to be,
And be as joyfull as thou can,

Loue hath no ioy of sorrowfull man,
That euill is full of curtesie,
That knoweth in his maladie,
For euer of loue the sickenesse

Is meint with sweete and bitternesse :
The sore of loue is marvailous,
For now the louer is ioyous,

Now can he plaine, now can be grone,
Now can he singen, now maken mone,
To day he plaineth for heauinesse,
To morrow he plaineth for iolynesse :
The life of loue is full contrarie,
Which stoundemeale can oft varie;
But if thou canst mirthes make,
That men in gre woll glady take,
Doe it goodly I command thee,
For men should, wheresoeuer they be,
Doe thing that hem fitting is,

For thereof commeth good loos and pris.
Whereof that thou be vertuous,
Ne be nat straunge ne daungerous:
For if that thou good rider be,
Pricke gladly that men may see;
In armes also if thou conne,

Pursue till thou a name hast wonne :
And if thy voice be faire and clere,
Thou shalt maken no great daungere.
Whan to sing they goodly pray,
It is thy worship for to obay:
Also to you it longeth aye,

To harpe and citterne, daunce and playe,
For if he can wel! foot and daunce,
It may him greatly doe auaunce,
Emong eke for thy lady sake,
Songes and complaintes that thou make,
For that meuen in her hart,
When they readen of thy smart.
Looke that no man for scarce thee hold,
For that may greene thee manifold:
Reason woll that a lover be

In his yeftes more large and free
Than churles that been not of louing,
For who thereof can any thing,
He shall be lefe aie for to yeue,
In londes lore who so woll leue,
For he that through a sodain sight,
Or for a kissing anon right,

Yaue hole his heart, in will and thought,
And to himselfe keepeth right nought,
After this swift, it is good reason,
He yeue his good in abandon.

"Now woll I shortly here reherse,

Of that I haue sayd in verse,

All the sentence by and by,

In wordes fewe compendiously,

That thou the better mayest on hem thinke, Whether so it be thou wake or winke,

A man to keepe, when it is breeue.
"Who so with Loue woll gone or ride
He mote be courteous, and voide of pride,
Merry and full of jollite,

And of largesse a losed be.

"First I joyne thee here in penaunce,
That euer without repentaunce,
Thou set thy thought in thy louing
To last without repenting,

And thinke vpon thy mirthes sweet
That shall follow after whan ye meet.

"And for thou true to love shalt be,
I will and commaunde thee,
That in one place thou set all hole
Thine herte, without halfen dole,
For trecherie and sikernesse,
For I loued neuer doublenesse :
To many his herte that woll depart,
Euerich shall haue but little part,
But of him drede I me right nought,
That in one place setteth his thought:
Therefore in o place it set,

And let it neuer thence flet:
For if thou yeuest it in lening,

I holde it but wretched thing:
Therefore yeue it whole and quite,
And thou shalt haue the more merite.
If it be lent than after sone,
The bountie and the thankes is done,
But in love, free yeuen thing
Requireth a great guerdoning.

"Yeue it in yeft all quite fully,
And make thy gift debonairly:
For men that yeft holde more dere
That yeuen is with gladsome chere.
"That gifte nought to praysen is
That man yeueth maugre his:
Whan thou hast yeuen thine heart (as I
Haue sayd) thee here openly,
Than aduentures shull thee fall,
Which hard and heauie been withall:
For oft when thou bethinkest thee
Of thy louing, where so thou be,
Fro folke thou must depart in hie,
That none perceiue thy maladie,
But hide thine harme thou must alone,
And go forth sole, and make thy mone:
Thou shalt no while be in o state,
But whilom cold and whilom bate,
Now redde as rose, now yellow and fade,
Such sorow I trow thou neuer hade:
Cotidien, ne quarteine,

It is not so full of peine,

For often times it shall fall,

In loue among thy paines all,
That thou thy selfe all holy,
Foryetten shalt so utterly,
That many times thou shalt bee,
Still as an image of tree,
Domme as a stone, without stirring
Of foote or honde, without speaking.
"Than soone after all thy paine,
To memorie shalt thou come againe,
A man abashed wonder sore,
And after sighen more and more:
For wit thou wele withouten wene,
In such a state full oft haue bene,
That haue the euill of loue assaide,
Where through thou art so dismaide.

AFTER a thought shall take thee so,
That thy loue is too ferre the fro:
Thou shalt say, God, what may this be,
That I ne may my ladie see?
Mine heart alone is to her goe,
And I abide all sole in woe,
Departed fro mine owne thought,
And with mine eien se right nought.
"Alas mine eyen sene I ne may,
My carefull herte to conuay,
Mine hertes guide, but they be,
I praise nothing what euer they se:
Shull they abide than, nay,
But gone and visiten without delay
That mine heart desireth so
For certainly, but if they go.

"A foole my selfe I may well hold,
When I ne se what mine hart wold,
Wherefore I woll gone her to sene,
Or eased shall I neuer bene,
But I have some tokenning.'

"Then goest thou forth without dwelling,
But oft thou faylest of thy desire,
Er thou mayest come her any nere,
And wastest in vaine thy passage:
Than fallest thou in a new rage,
For want of sight thou ginnest murne,

And homeward pensiue thou doest returne: In great mischiefe than shalt thou bee, For than againe shall come to thee Sighes and plaintes with new wo, That no itching pricketh so: Who wote it nought, he may goe lere, Of hem that buyen loue so dere. "Nothing thine heart appeasen may, That oft thou wolt gone and assay, If thou maiest seene by adventure Thy lives joy, thine heartes cure, So that by grace, if thou might Attaine of her to have a sight, Than shalt thou done none other deed, But with that sight thine eyen feed: That faire fresh whan thou mayst see, Thine herte shall so ravished bee, That never thou wouldest thy thankes lete Ne remove, for to see that swete: The more thou seest in soothfastnesse, The more thou covetest of that sweetnesse: The more thine herte brenneth in fire, The more thine herte is in desire. For who considereth euerie dele, It may be likened wonder wele, The paine of love unto a fere, For evermore thou neighest nere, Thought, or who so that it be, For verie sooth I tell it thee, The hotter ever shalt thou brenne, As experience shall thee kenne, Where so commest in any cost, Who is next fire he brenneth most: And yet forsooth for all thine heat, Though thou for love swelte and sweat, Ne for no thing thou felen may, Thou shalt not willen to passe away, And though thou goe, yet must thou nede, Thinke all day on her faire hede, Whome thou beheld with so good will, And hold thy selfe beguiled ill, That thou ne hadst ne hardiment, To shew her ought of thine entent;

Thine herte full sore thou wolt dispise,
And eke repreve of cowardise,
That thou so dull in every thing,

Were domme for drede, without speaking.
"Thou shalt eke thinke thou didst folly,
That thou were her so faste by,
And durst not a venture thee to say
Some thing er thou came away,
For thou hadest no more wonne,
To speake of her whan thou begonne :
But yet if she would for thy sake,
In armes goodly thee haue take,
It should haue be more worth to thee,
Than of treasour great plente.

"Thus shalt thou mourne and eke complain,
And yet encheson to gone again,
Unto thy walke, or to thy place,
Where thou beheld her fleshly face,
And never for false suspection,
Thou wouldest finde occasion,
For to gone unto her house,
So art thou than desirouse,
A sight of her for to have,

If thou thine honour mightest save,
Or any errand mightest make
Thider, for thy loves sake:

Full faine thou wouldest, but for dreede
Thou goest not, least that men take heede,
Wherefore I read in thy going,

And also in thine againe comming,
Thou be well ware that men ne wit,
Feine thee other cause than it,

To goe that way, or fast bie,
To heale well is no follie:
And if so be it happe thee,

That thou thy love there mayst see,
In siker wise thou her salewe,
Wherewith thy colour woll transmewe,
And eke thy bloud shall all to quake,
Thy hewe eke chaungen for her sake,
But word and wit, with chere full pale
Shull want for to tell thy tale,

And if thou mayest so ferre forth winne,
That thou reason durst beginne,
And wouldest saine three things or mo,
Thou shalt full scarcely saine the two,
Though thou bethinke thee never so wele,
Thou shalt foryete yet somedele.

"BUT if thou deale with trechery,
For false lovers mowe all fouly
Sain what hem lust withouten dred,
They be so double in hir falshed,
For they in herte can thinke o thing
And saine another, in hir speaking,
And when thy speech is ended all,
Right thus to thee it shall befall:
If any word than come to minde,
That thou to say hast left behinde,
Than thou shalt brenne in great martire,
For thou shalt brenne as any fire,
This is the strife and eke the affiaie,
And the battaile that lasteth aie:
This bargaine end may never take,
But if that she thy peace will make.
"And whan the night is commen anon,
A thousand angres shall come upon,
To bed as fast thou wolt thee dight,
There thou shalt have but small delight,

For whan thou wenest for to sleepe,
So full of paine shalt thou creepe,
Stert in thy bed about full wide,
And turne full oft on everie side:
Now downeward groffe, and now upright,
And wallow in woe the longe night,
Thine armes shalt thou sprede a brede,
As man in warre were forwerede.
Than shalt the come a remembraunce
Of her shape and her semblaunce,
Whereto none other may be pere,
And wete thou well without were,

That thee shall see sometime that night,
That thou hast her, that is so bright,
Naked betweene thine armes there,
All soothfastnesse as though it were;
Thou shalt make castles than in Spaine,
And dreame of joy, all but in vaine,
And thee delighten of right nought,
While thou so slumbrest in that thought,
That is so sweete and delitable,
The which in sooth nis but a fable,
For it ne shall no while last;
Than shalt thou sigh and weepe fast,

And say, "Deere God, what thing is this,
My dreame is turned all amis,
Which was full sweet and apparent :
But now I wake it is all shent,
Now yede this merry thought away,
Twentie times upon a day

I would this thought would come againe,
For it alleggeth well my paine,
It maketh me full of joyfull thought,
It sleeth me that it lasteth nought.
Ah Lord, why nill ye me succour ?
The joy I trow that I langour,
The death I would me shoulde slo,
While I lye in her armes two,
Mine harme is hard withouten wene,
My great unease full oft I mene.

"BUT woulde Love do so I might
Have fully joy of her so bright,
My paine were quit me richely,
Alas too great a thing aske I:
It is but folly, and wrong wening,
To aske so outragious a thing,
And who so asketh follily,
He mote be warned hastely,
And I ne wore what I may say,
I am so ferre out of the way,
For I would have full great liking,
And full great joy of lasse thing,
For would she of her gentlenesse,
Withouten more, me ones kesse,
It were to me a great guerdon,
Release of all my passion:
But it is hard to come thereto,
All is but folly that I do,
So high I have mine herte set,
Where I may no comfort get,

I wote not where I say well or nought,
But this I wote well in my thought,
That it were bette of her alone,
For to flint my woe and mone:
A looke on her I cast goodly,
That for to have all utterly,
Of another all hole the play.
Ah Lord, where I shall bide the day

That ever she shall my ladie be,
He is full cured, that may her see.
Ah God, when shall the dauning spring,
To leggen thus as an angrie thing,
I have no joy thus here to ly,
When that my love is not me by:
A man to lyen hath great disease,
Which may not sleepe ne rest in ease,
I would it dawed, and were now day,
And that the night were went away,
For were it day, I would up rise,
Ah slowe Sunne, shew thine enprise,
Speede thee to spread thy beames bright,
And chase the darknesse of the night,
To put away the stoundes strong,
Which iu me lasten all too long.'

"The night shalt thou continue so, Without rest, in paine and wo,

If ever thou knew of love distresse,
Thou shalt mowe learne in that sicknesse,
And thus enduring shalt thou lye
And rise on morow up earlye,
Out of thy bed, and harneis thee
Er ever dawning thou maiest see:
All privily than shalt thou gone,
What whider it be, thy selfe alone,
For raine, or haile, for snow, for slete,
Theder she dwelleth that is so swete,
The which may fall a sleepe bee,
And thinketh but little upon thee.
Than shalt thou goe, full foule aferde,
Looke if the gate be unsperde,

And waite without in woe and paine,
Full evill a cold in mind and raine:
Than shalt thou goe the dore before,
If thou mayest finde any shore,
Or hole, or reft, what ever it were,
Than shalt thou stoupe, and lay to eare
If they within a sleepe be,

I meane all save thy ladie free,
Whom waking if thou mayest aspie,
Goe put thy selfe in jeopardie,
To aske grace, and thee bimene,
That she may wete without wene,
That thou all night no rest hast had,
So sore for her thou were bestad.

"Women well ought pitie to take
Of hem that sorrowen for hir sake.
And looke for love of that relike,
That thou thinke none other like,
For whan thou hast so great anney,
Shall kisse thee er thou goe awey,
And hold that in full great deinte,
And for that no man shall thee see
Before the house, ne in the way,
Looke thou be gon againe er day.
Suche comming, and such going,
Such heavinesse, and such walking,
Maketh lovers withouten wene,
Under hir clothes pale and lene,
For Love leaveth colour ne clearnesse,
Who loveth trew hath no fatnesse,
Thou shalt well by thy selfe see
That thou must needs assaied bee:
For men that shape hem other way
Falsely hir ladies to betray,

It is no wonder though they be fatte,
With false othes her loves they gatte,
For oft I see such losengeours
Fatter than abbots or priours,

"Yet with o thing I thee charge, That is to say, that thou be large Unto the maid, that her doth serve, So best her thanke thou shalt deserve. Yeue her giftes, and get her grace, For so thou may thanke purchace, That she thee worthy hold and free, Thy ladie, and all that may thee see. Also her servaunts worship aie, And please as muche as thou maie, Great good through hem may come to thee, Because with her they been prive: They shall her tell how they thee fand Curteous and wise, and well doand, And she shall preise well thee more. Looke out of load thou be not fore, And if such cause thou have, that thee Behoveth to gone out of countree, Leave hole thine herte in hostage, Till thou againe make thy passage, Thinke long to see the swete thing That hath thine heart in her keeping. "Now have I told thee, in what wise A lover shall doe me servise, Do it than, if thou wolte haue The mede that thou after craue."

WHEN Loue all this had boden me,
I said him: "Sir how may it be
That louers may in such manere,
Endure the paine ye haue sayd here?
I maruaile me wonder fast,
How any man may liue or last
In suche paine, and such brenning,
In sorrow and thought, and such sighing,
Aie unreleased woe to make,
Whether so it be they sleepe or wake,
In such annoy continually,

As helpe me God this maruaile I

How man, but he were made of steele,

Might liue a moneth, such pains to feele."

THE god of loue then sayd me,
"Friend, bye the faith I owe to thee,
May no man haue good, but he it buy:
A man loueth more tenderly

The thing that he hath bought most dere.
For wete thou well without were,
In thanke that thing is taken more,
For which a man hath suffred sore:
Certes no woe ne may attaine,
Unto the sore of loves paine,
None euill thereto ne may amount,
No more than a man count
The drops that of the water bee:
For drie as well the grete see
Thou mightest, as the harmes tell
Of hem that with Loue dwell
In seruice, for paine hem sleeth,
And that eche would flee the death
And trowe they should neuer escape,
Nere that hope couth hem make,
Glad as man in prison sete,
And may not getten for to ete
But barly bread, and water pure,
And lyeth in vermin and in ordure,
With all this yet can he liue,

Good hope such comfort hath him yeue,

Which maketh wene that he shall be
Deliuered and come to libertie,
In fortune is full trust,

Though he lye in straw or dust,
In hope is all his sustaining:
And so faire louers in her wening,
Which loue hath set in his prison
Good hope is her saluation:
Good hope (how sore that they smart)
Yeueth hem both will and hart
To profer her body to martire,
For hope so sore doth bem desire
To suffer each harme that men deuise,
For joy that afterward shall arise.

HOPE in desire catch victorie,

In hope of loue is all the glorie,
For hope is all that loue may yeue,
Nere hope, there should no lenger liue.
Blessed be hope, which with desire,
Auaunceth louers in such manire.
Good hope is curteis for to please,
To keepe louers from all disease.
Hope keepeth his lond, and woll abide,
For any perill that may betide,
For hope to louers, as most chiefe,
Doth hem endure all mischiefe,
Hope is hir helpe whan mister is.
And I shall yeue thee eke iwis,
Three other thinges, that great sollace
Doth to hem that be in my lace.

"The firste good that may be found,
To hem that in my lace be bound,
Is swete thought, for to record
Thing wherewith thou canst accord
Best in thine herte, where she be,
Thinking in absence is good to thee.
Whan any louer doth complaine,
And liueth in distresse and in paine
Than swete thought shall come as bliue,
Away his anger for to driue,

It maketh louers to haue remembraunce Of comfort, and of high pleasaunce, That hope hath hight him for to winne, For thought anone than shall beginne, As farre God wote as he can finde, To make a mirrour of his minde, For to behold he woll not let, Her person he shall afore him set, Her laughing eyen persaunt and clere, Her shape, her form, her goodly chere, Her mouth that is so gracious, So swete, and eke so sauourous, Of all her feiters he shall take heed, His eyen with all her limmes feed.

Thus swete thinking shall aswage The paine of louers, and hir rage, Thy joy shall double without gesse Whan thou thinkest on her seemelinesse, Or of her laughing, or of her chere That to thee made thy lady dere, This comfort woll I that thou take, And if the next thou wolt forsake Which is not lesse sauerous,

Thou shouldest not ben too daungerous.

"THE second shall be swete speech,

That bath to many one be leech,