L'ENVOY DE CHAUCER À BUKTON.

My master Bukton, whan of Christ our king,
Was asked, what is troth or sothfastnesse,
He not a worde answerde to that asking,
As who saith, no man is all true, I gesse:
And therefore, though I hight to expresse
The sorrow and wo that is in mariage,
I dare not writen of it no wickednesse,
Lest I my selfe fall efte in suche dotage.

I woll not say how that it is the chaine
Of Sathanas, on which he knaweth ever,
But I dare saine, were he out of his paine,
As by his will he would be bounden never;
But thilke doted foole, that eft hath lever
Ychayned be, than out of prison crepe,
God let him never fro his wo discever,
Ne no man him bewayle, though he wepe.

But yet, lest thou doe worse, take a wife,
Bet is to wedde than brenne in worse wise.
But thou shalt have sorow on thy flesh thy life,
And ben thy wives thrale, as sain these wise,
And if that holy writ may not suffice,
Experience shall thee teach, so may happe,
Take the way lever to be taken in frise,
Than efte to fall of wedding in the trappe.

This little writte, proverbes or figures,
I sende you, take keepe of it I rede,
Unwise is he that can no wele endure,
If thou be siker, put thee not in drede,
The Wife of Bathe I pray you that ye rede
Of this matter that we have on honde,
God graunt you your lyfe freely to lede
In fredome, for foule is to be bonde.

EXPLICIT,

BALADE SENT TO K. RICHARD.

SOMETIME the world so stedfast was and stable,
That mannes word was an obligatioun,
And now it is so false and deceivable,
That word and deed, as in conclusioun,
Is nothing like, for tourned is up so doun
All the world, through mede and fikelnesse,
That all is lost for lacke of stedfastnesse.

What maketh the world to be so variable
But lust, that men have in dissension ?
For among us a man is hold unable,
But if he can by some collusion
Doe his neighbour wrong and oppression :
What causeth this but wilfull wretchednesse
That all is lost for lacke of stedfastnesse ?

Trouth is put downe, reason is hold fable,
Vertue hath now no domination,
Pity is exiled, no man is merciable,
Through covetise is blente discretion,
The world hath made a permutation,
Fro right to wrong, fro trouth to fikelnesse,
That all is lost for lacke of stedfastnesse.

L'ENVOYE

Prince, desire to be honourable,
Cherish thy folke, and hate extortion,
Suffer nothing that may be reprovable
To thine estate, done in thy region,
Shew forth the yerd of castigation,

Drede God, do law, love trouth and worthinesse,
And wed thy folke ayen to stedfastnesse.

EXPLICIT.