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Thenketh how noble, as seith Valerius, Was thilke Tullius Hostilius, That out of povert roos to heigh noblesse. Redeth Senek, and redeth eek Boëce, Ther shul ye seen expres that it no drede is, That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis; And therfore, leve housbond, I thus conclude, Al were it that myne auncestres were rude, Yet may the hye God, and so hope I, Grante me grace to liven vertuously. Thanne am I gentil, whan that I biginne To liven vertuously and weyve sinne. Thenketh how noble, as seith Valerius, Was thilke Tullius Hostilius, That out of povert roos to heigh noblesse. Redeth Senek, and redeth eek Boëce, Ther shul ye seen expres that it no drede is, That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis; And therfore, leve housbond, I thus conclude, Al were it that myne auncestres were rude, Yet may the hye God, and so hope I, Grante me grace to liven vertuously. Thanne am I gentil, whan that I biginne To liven vertuously and weyve sinne.
And ther-as ye of povert me repreve, The hye God, on whom that we bileve, In wilful povert chees to live his lyf. And certes every man, mayden, or wyf, May understonde that Iesus, hevene king, Ne wolde nat chese a vicious living. Glad povert is an honest thing, certeyn; This wol Senek and othere clerkes seyn. Who-so that halt him payd of his poverte, I holde him riche, al hadde he nat a sherte. He that coveyteth is a povre wight, For he wolde han that is nat in his might. But he that noght hath, ne coveyteth have, Is riche, al-though ye holde him but a knave. And ther-as ye of povert me repreve, The hye God, on whom that we bileve, In wilful povert chees to live his lyf. And certes every man, mayden, or wyf, May understonde that Iesus, hevene king, Ne wolde nat chese a vicious living. Glad povert is an honest thing, certeyn; This wol Senek and othere clerkes seyn. Who-so that halt him payd of his poverte, I holde him riche, al hadde he nat a sherte. He that coveyteth is a povre wight, For he wolde han that is nat in his might. But he that noght hath, ne coveyteth have, Is riche, al-though ye holde him but a knave.

Original Text

Modern Text

Thenketh how noble, as seith Valerius, Was thilke Tullius Hostilius, That out of povert roos to heigh noblesse. Redeth Senek, and redeth eek Boëce, Ther shul ye seen expres that it no drede is, That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis; And therfore, leve housbond, I thus conclude, Al were it that myne auncestres were rude, Yet may the hye God, and so hope I, Grante me grace to liven vertuously. Thanne am I gentil, whan that I biginne To liven vertuously and weyve sinne. Thenketh how noble, as seith Valerius, Was thilke Tullius Hostilius, That out of povert roos to heigh noblesse. Redeth Senek, and redeth eek Boëce, Ther shul ye seen expres that it no drede is, That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis; And therfore, leve housbond, I thus conclude, Al were it that myne auncestres were rude, Yet may the hye God, and so hope I, Grante me grace to liven vertuously. Thanne am I gentil, whan that I biginne To liven vertuously and weyve sinne.
And ther-as ye of povert me repreve, The hye God, on whom that we bileve, In wilful povert chees to live his lyf. And certes every man, mayden, or wyf, May understonde that Iesus, hevene king, Ne wolde nat chese a vicious living. Glad povert is an honest thing, certeyn; This wol Senek and othere clerkes seyn. Who-so that halt him payd of his poverte, I holde him riche, al hadde he nat a sherte. He that coveyteth is a povre wight, For he wolde han that is nat in his might. But he that noght hath, ne coveyteth have, Is riche, al-though ye holde him but a knave. And ther-as ye of povert me repreve, The hye God, on whom that we bileve, In wilful povert chees to live his lyf. And certes every man, mayden, or wyf, May understonde that Iesus, hevene king, Ne wolde nat chese a vicious living. Glad povert is an honest thing, certeyn; This wol Senek and othere clerkes seyn. Who-so that halt him payd of his poverte, I holde him riche, al hadde he nat a sherte. He that coveyteth is a povre wight, For he wolde han that is nat in his might. But he that noght hath, ne coveyteth have, Is riche, al-though ye holde him but a knave.