Confessio Amantis; Or, Tales of the Seven Deadly Sins. John Gower

if it be so.

       Min holy fader, certes no.

       As forto feigne such sieknesse

       It nedeth noght, for this witnesse

       I take of god, that my corage

       Hath ben mor siek than my visage.

       And ek this mai I wel avowe,

       So lowe cowthe I nevere bowe

       To feigne humilite withoute,

       That me ne leste betre loute 720

       With alle the thoghtes of myn herte;

       For that thing schal me nevere asterte,

       I speke as to my lady diere,

       To make hire eny feigned chiere.

       God wot wel there I lye noght,

       Mi chiere hath be such as my thoght;

       For in good feith, this lieveth wel,

       Mi will was betre a thousendel

       Than eny chiere that I cowthe.

       Bot, Sire, if I have in my yowthe 730

       Don other wise in other place,

       I put me therof in your grace:

       For this excusen I ne schal,

       That I have elles overal

       To love and to his compaignie

       Be plein withoute Ypocrisie;

       Bot ther is on the which I serve,

       Althogh I may no thonk deserve,

       To whom yet nevere into this day

       I seide onlyche or ye or nay, 740

       Bot if it so were in my thoght.

       As touchende othre seie I noght

       That I nam somdel forto wyte

       Of that ye clepe an ypocrite.

       Mi Sone, it sit wel every wiht

       To kepe his word in trowthe upryht

       Towardes love in alle wise.

       For who that wolde him wel avise

       What hath befalle in this matiere,

       He scholde noght with feigned chiere 750

       Deceive Love in no degre.

       To love is every herte fre,

       Bot in deceipte if that thou feignest

       And therupon thi lust atteignest,

       That thow hast wonne with thi wyle,

       Thogh it thee like for a whyle,

       Thou schalt it afterward repente.

       And forto prove myn entente,

       I finde ensample in a Croniqe

       Of hem that love so beswike. 760

       It fell be olde daies thus,

       Whil themperour Tiberius

       The Monarchie of Rome ladde,

       Ther was a worthi Romein hadde

       A wif, and sche Pauline hihte,

       Which was to every mannes sihte

       Of al the Cite the faireste,

       And as men seiden, ek the beste.

       It is and hath ben evere yit,

       That so strong is no mannes wit, 770

       Which thurgh beaute ne mai be drawe

       To love, and stonde under the lawe

       Of thilke bore frele kinde,

       Which makth the hertes yhen blinde,

       Wher no reson mai be comuned:

       And in this wise stod fortuned

       This tale, of which I wolde mene;

       This wif, which in hire lustes grene

       Was fair and freissh and tendre of age,

       Sche may noght lette the corage 780

       Of him that wole on hire assote.

       Ther was a Duck, and he was hote

       Mundus, which hadde in his baillie

       To lede the chivalerie

       Of Rome, and was a worthi knyht;

       Bot yet he was noght of such myht

       The strengthe of love to withstonde,

       That he ne was so broght to honde,

       That malgre wher he wole or no,

       This yonge wif he loveth so, 790

       That he hath put al his assay

       To wynne thing which he ne may

       Gete of hire graunt in no manere,

       Be yifte of gold ne be preiere.

       And whanne he syh that be no mede

       Toward hir love he myhte spede,

       Be sleyhte feigned thanne he wroghte;

       And therupon he him bethoghte

       How that ther was in the Cite

       A temple of such auctorite, 800

       To which with gret Devocioun

       The noble wommen of the toun

       Most comunliche a pelrinage

       Gon forto preie thilke ymage

       Which the godesse of childinge is,

       And cleped was be name Ysis:

       And in hire temple thanne were,

       To reule and to ministre there

       After the lawe which was tho,

       Above alle othre Prestes tuo. 810

       This Duck, which thoghte his love gete,

       Upon a day hem tuo to mete

       Hath bede, and thei come at his heste;

       Wher that thei hadde a riche feste,

       And after mete in prive place

       This lord, which wolde his thonk pourchace,

       To ech of hem yaf thanne a yifte,

       And spak so that be weie of schrifte

       He drowh hem unto his covine,

       To helpe and schape how he Pauline 820

       After his lust deceive myhte.

       And thei here trowthes bothe plyhte,

       That thei be nyhte hire scholden wynne

       Into the temple, and he therinne

       Schal have of hire al his entente:

       And thus acorded forth thei wente.

       Now lest thurgh which ypocrisie

       Ordeigned was the tricherie,

       Wherof this ladi was deceived.

       These Prestes hadden wel conceived 830

       That sche was of gret holinesse;

       And with a contrefet simplesse,

       Which hid was in a fals corage,

       Feignende an hevenely message

       Thei come and seide unto hir thus:

       "Pauline, the god Anubus

       Hath sent ous bothe Prestes hiere,

       And seith he woll to thee appiere

       Be nyhtes time himself alone,

       For love he hath to thi persone: 840

       And therupon he hath ous bede,

       That we in Ysis temple a stede

       Honestely for thee pourveie,