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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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