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

Mi fader, elles were I nyce:

       For ye therof so wel have spoke,

       That it is in myn herte loke

       And evere schal: bot of Envie,

       If ther be more in his baillie 1870

       Towardes love, sai me what.

       Mi Sone, as guile under the hat

       With sleyhtes of a tregetour

       Is hidd, Envie of such colour

       Hath yit the ferthe deceivant,

       The which is cleped Falssemblant,

       Wherof the matiere and the forme

       Now herkne and I thee schal enforme.

       Of Falssemblant if I schal telle,

       Above alle othre it is the welle 1880

       Out of the which deceipte floweth.

       Ther is noman so wys that knoweth

       Of thilke flod which is the tyde,

       Ne how he scholde himselven guide

       To take sauf passage there.

       And yit the wynd to mannes Ere

       Is softe, and as it semeth oute

       It makth clier weder al aboute;

       Bot thogh it seme, it is noght so.

       For Falssemblant hath everemo 1890

       Of his conseil in compaignie

       The derke untrewe Ypocrisie,

       Whos word descordeth to his thoght:

       Forthi thei ben togedre broght

       Of o covine, of on houshold,

       As it schal after this be told.

       Of Falssemblant it nedeth noght

       To telle of olde ensamples oght;

       For al dai in experience

       A man mai se thilke evidence 1900

       Of faire wordes whiche he hiereth;

       Bot yit the barge Envie stiereth

       And halt it evere fro the londe,

       Wher Falssemblant with Ore on honde

       It roweth, and wol noght arive,

       Bot let it on the wawes dryve

       In gret tempeste and gret debat,

       Wherof that love and his astat

       Empeireth. And therfore I rede,

       Mi Sone, that thou fle and drede 1910

       This vice, and what that othre sein,

       Let thi Semblant be trewe and plein.

       For Falssemblant is thilke vice,

       Which nevere was withoute office:

       Wher that Envie thenkth to guile,

       He schal be for that ilke while

       Of prive conseil Messagier.

       For whan his semblant is most clier,

       Thanne is he most derk in his thoght,

       Thogh men him se, thei knowe him noght; 1920

       Bot as it scheweth in the glas

       Thing which therinne nevere was,

       So scheweth it in his visage

       That nevere was in his corage:

       Thus doth he al his thing with sleyhte.

       Now ley thi conscience in weyhte,

       Mi goode Sone, and schrif the hier,

       If thou were evere Custummer

       To Falssemblant in eny wise.

       For ought I can me yit avise, 1930

       Mi goode fader, certes no.

       If I for love have oght do so,

       Now asketh, I wol praie yow:

       For elles I wot nevere how

       Of Falssemblant that I have gilt.

       Mi Sone, and sithen that thou wilt

       That I schal axe, gabbe noght,

       Bot tell if evere was thi thoght

       With Falssemblant and coverture

       To wite of eny creature 1940

       How that he was with love lad;

       So were he sori, were he glad,

       Whan that thou wistest how it were,

       Al that he rounede in thin Ere

       Thou toldest forth in other place,

       To setten him fro loves grace

       Of what womman that thee beste liste,

       Ther as noman his conseil wiste

       Bot thou, be whom he was deceived

       Of love, and from his pourpos weyved; 1950

       And thoghtest that his destourbance

       Thin oghne cause scholde avance,

       As who saith, "I am so celee,

       Ther mai no mannes privete

       Be heled half so wel as myn."

       Art thou, mi Sone, of such engin?

       Tell on. Mi goode fader, nay

       As for the more part I say;

       Bot of somdiel I am beknowe,

       That I mai stonde in thilke rowe 1960

       Amonges hem that Saundres use.

       I wol me noght therof excuse,

       That I with such colour ne steyne,

       Whan I my beste Semblant feigne

       To my felawh, til that I wot

       Al his conseil bothe cold and hot:

       For be that cause I make him chiere,

       Til I his love knowe and hiere;

       And if so be myn herte soucheth

       That oght unto my ladi toucheth 1970

       Of love that he wol me telle,

       Anon I renne unto the welle

       And caste water in the fyr,

       So that his carte amidd the Myr,

       Be that I have his conseil knowe,

       Fulofte sithe I overthrowe,

       Whan that he weneth best to stonde.

       Bot this I do you understonde,

       If that a man love elles where,

       So that my ladi be noght there, 1980

       And he me telle, I wole it hide,

       Ther schal no word ascape aside,

       For with deceipte of no semblant

       To him breke I no covenant;

       Me liketh noght in other place

       To lette noman of his grace,

       Ne forto ben inquisitif

       To knowe an other mannes lif:

       Wher that he love or love noght,

       That toucheth nothing to my thoght, 1990

       Bot al it passeth thurgh myn Ere

       Riht as a thing that nevere were,

       And is foryete and leid beside.

       Bot if it touche on eny side

       Mi ladi, as I have er spoken,

       Myn Eres ben noght thanne loken;

       For certes, whanne that betitt,

       My will, myn herte and al my witt