Our website is made possible by displaying online advertisements to our visitors.
Please consider supporting us by disabling your ad blocker.

Download links will be available after you disable the ad blocker and reload the page.

Confessio Amantis, or, Tales of the Seven Deadly Sins



Download options:

  • 516.08 KB
  • 1.85 MB
  • 819.49 KB

Description:

Excerpt


Prologus Torpor, ebes sensus, scola parua labor minimusqueCausant quo minimus ipse minora canam:Qua tamen Engisti lingua canit Insula BrutiAnglica Carmente metra iuuante loquar.Ossibus ergo carens que conterit ossa loquelisAbsit, et interpres stet procul oro malus. Of hem that writen ous toforeThe bokes duelle, and we therforeBen tawht of that was write tho:Forthi good is that we alsoIn oure tyme among ous hiereDo wryte of newe som matiere,Essampled of these olde wyseSo that it myhte in such a wyse,Whan we ben dede and elleswhere,Beleve to the worldes eere 10In tyme comende after this.Bot for men sein, and soth it is,That who that al of wisdom writIt dulleth ofte a mannes witTo him that schal it aldai rede,For thilke cause, if that ye rede,I wolde go the middel weieAnd wryte a bok betwen the tweie,Somwhat of lust, somewhat of lore,That of the lasse or of the more 20Som man mai lyke of that I wryte:And for that fewe men enditeIn oure englissh, I thenke makeA bok for Engelondes sake,The yer sextenthe of kyng Richard.What schal befalle hierafterwardGod wot, for now upon this tydeMen se the world on every sydeIn sondry wyse so diversed,That it welnyh stant al reversed, 30As forto speke of tyme ago.The cause whi it changeth soIt needeth nought to specifie,The thing so open is at ijeThat every man it mai beholde:And natheles be daies olde,Whan that the bokes weren levere,Wrytinge was beloved evereOf hem that weren vertuous;For hier in erthe amonges ous, 40If noman write hou that it stode,The pris of hem that weren goodeScholde, as who seith, a gret partieBe lost: so for to magnifieThe worthi princes that tho were,The bokes schewen hiere and there,Wherof the world ensampled is;And tho that deden thanne amisThurgh tirannie and crualte,Right as thei stoden in degre, 50So was the wrytinge of here werk.Thus I, which am a burel clerk,Purpose forto wryte a bokAfter the world that whilom tokLong tyme in olde daies passed:Bot for men sein it is now lassed,In worse plit than it was tho,I thenke forto touche alsoThe world which neweth every dai,So as I can, so as I mai. 60Thogh I seknesse have upon hondeAnd longe have had, yit woll I fondeTo wryte and do my bisinesse,That in som part, so as I gesse,The wyse man mai ben avised.For this prologe is so assisedThat it to wisdom al belongeth:What wysman that it underfongeth,He schal drawe into remembranceThe fortune of this worldes chance, 70The which noman in his personeMai knowe, bot the god al one.Whan the prologe is so despended,This bok schal afterward ben endedOf love, which doth many a wonderAnd many a wys man hath put under.And in this wyse I thenke treteTowardes hem that now be grete,Betwen the vertu and the viceWhich longeth unto this office. 80Bot for my wittes ben to smaleTo tellen every man his tale,This bok, upon amendmentTo stonde at his commandement,With whom myn herte is of accord,I sende unto myn oghne lord,Which of Lancastre is Henri named:The hyhe god him hath proclamedFul of knyhthode and alle grace....