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Verray povert, it singeth proprely; Iuvenal seith of povert merily: “The povre man, whan he goth by the weye, Bifore the theves he may singe and pleye.” Povert is hateful good, and, as I gesse, A ful greet bringer out of bisinesse; A greet amender eek of sapience To him that taketh it in pacience. Povert is this, al-though it seme elenge: Possessioun, that no wight wol chalenge. Povert ful ofte, whan a man is lowe, Maketh his God and eek him-self to knowe. Povert a spectacle is, as thinketh me, Thurgh which he may his verray frendes see. And therfore, sire, sin that I noght yow greve, Of my povert na-more ye me repreve. Verray povert, it singeth proprely; Iuvenal seith of povert merily: “The povre man, whan he goth by the weye, Bifore the theves he may singe and pleye.” Povert is hateful good, and, as I gesse, A ful greet bringer out of bisinesse; A greet amender eek of sapience To him that taketh it in pacience. Povert is this, al-though it seme elenge: Possessioun, that no wight wol chalenge. Povert ful ofte, whan a man is lowe, Maketh his God and eek him-self to knowe. Povert a spectacle is, as thinketh me, Thurgh which he may his verray frendes see. And therfore, sire, sin that I noght yow greve, Of my povert na-more ye me repreve.
Now, sire, of elde ye repreve me; And certes, sire, thogh noon auctoritee Were in no book, ye gentils of honour Seyn that men sholde an old wight doon favour, And clepe him fader, for your gentillesse; And auctours shal I finden, as I gesse. Now, sire, of elde ye repreve me; And certes, sire, thogh noon auctoritee Were in no book, ye gentils of honour Seyn that men sholde an old wight doon favour, And clepe him fader, for your gentillesse; And auctours shal I finden, as I gesse.
Now ther ye seye, that I am foul and old, Than drede you noght to been a cokewold; For filthe and elde, also moot I thee, Been grete wardeyns upon chastitee. But nathelees, sin I knowe your delyt, I shal fulfille your worldly appetyt. Now ther ye seye, that I am foul and old, Than drede you noght to been a cokewold; For filthe and elde, also moot I thee, Been grete wardeyns upon chastitee. But nathelees, sin I knowe your delyt, I shal fulfille your worldly appetyt.

Original Text

Modern Text

Verray povert, it singeth proprely; Iuvenal seith of povert merily: “The povre man, whan he goth by the weye, Bifore the theves he may singe and pleye.” Povert is hateful good, and, as I gesse, A ful greet bringer out of bisinesse; A greet amender eek of sapience To him that taketh it in pacience. Povert is this, al-though it seme elenge: Possessioun, that no wight wol chalenge. Povert ful ofte, whan a man is lowe, Maketh his God and eek him-self to knowe. Povert a spectacle is, as thinketh me, Thurgh which he may his verray frendes see. And therfore, sire, sin that I noght yow greve, Of my povert na-more ye me repreve. Verray povert, it singeth proprely; Iuvenal seith of povert merily: “The povre man, whan he goth by the weye, Bifore the theves he may singe and pleye.” Povert is hateful good, and, as I gesse, A ful greet bringer out of bisinesse; A greet amender eek of sapience To him that taketh it in pacience. Povert is this, al-though it seme elenge: Possessioun, that no wight wol chalenge. Povert ful ofte, whan a man is lowe, Maketh his God and eek him-self to knowe. Povert a spectacle is, as thinketh me, Thurgh which he may his verray frendes see. And therfore, sire, sin that I noght yow greve, Of my povert na-more ye me repreve.
Now, sire, of elde ye repreve me; And certes, sire, thogh noon auctoritee Were in no book, ye gentils of honour Seyn that men sholde an old wight doon favour, And clepe him fader, for your gentillesse; And auctours shal I finden, as I gesse. Now, sire, of elde ye repreve me; And certes, sire, thogh noon auctoritee Were in no book, ye gentils of honour Seyn that men sholde an old wight doon favour, And clepe him fader, for your gentillesse; And auctours shal I finden, as I gesse.
Now ther ye seye, that I am foul and old, Than drede you noght to been a cokewold; For filthe and elde, also moot I thee, Been grete wardeyns upon chastitee. But nathelees, sin I knowe your delyt, I shal fulfille your worldly appetyt. Now ther ye seye, that I am foul and old, Than drede you noght to been a cokewold; For filthe and elde, also moot I thee, Been grete wardeyns upon chastitee. But nathelees, sin I knowe your delyt, I shal fulfille your worldly appetyt.