110
Fortune gydeth and ruleth all oure shyppe:
Whome she hateth shall ouer the see boorde[259] skyp;
Whome she loueth, of all plesyre[260] is ryche,
Whyles she laugheth[261] and hath luste for to playe;
Whome she hateth,[262] she casteth in the dyche,
For whan she frouneth,[263] she thynketh to make a fray;
She cheryssheth[264] him, and hym she casseth[265] awaye.
Alas, quod I, how myghte I haue her sure?
In fayth, quod she, by Bone Auenture.
Thus, in a rowe, of martchauntes a grete route 120
Suwed to Fortune that she wold be theyre frynde:
They thronge in fast, and flocked her aboute;
And I with them prayed her to haue in mynde.
She promysed to vs all she wolde be kynde:
Of Bowge of Court she asketh what we wold haue;
And we asked Fauoure, and Fauour she vs gaue.
Thus endeth the Prologue; and begynneth the Bowge of Courte breuely compyled. [266]
DREDE.
The sayle is vp, Fortune ruleth our helme,
We wante no wynde to passe now ouer all;
Fauoure we haue tougher[267] than ony[268] elme,
That wyll abyde and neuer from vs fall: 130
But vnder hony ofte tyme lyeth bytter gall;
For, as me thoughte, in our shyppe I dyde see
Full subtyll persones, in nombre foure and thre.
The fyrste was Fauell, full of flatery,
Wyth fables false that well coude fayne a tale;
The seconde was Suspecte, whiche that dayly
Mysdempte eche man, with face deedly and pale;
And Haruy Hafter,[269] that well coude picke a male;
With other foure of theyr affynyte,
Dysdayne, Ryotte, Dyssymuler, Subtylte. 140
Fortune theyr frende, with whome oft she dyde daunce;
They coude not faile, thei thought, they were so sure;
And oftentymes I wolde myselfe auaunce
With them to make solace and pleasure;
But my dysporte they coude not well endure;
They sayde they hated for to dele with Drede.
Than Fauell gan wyth fayre speche me to fede.
FAUELL.
Noo thynge erthely that I wonder so sore
As of your connynge, that is so excellent;
Deynte to haue with vs suche one in store, 150
So vertuously that hath his dayes spente;
Fortune to you gyftes of grace hath lente:
Loo, what it is a man to haue connynge!
All erthly tresoure it is surmountynge.
Ye be an apte man, as ony can be founde,
To dwell with vs, and serue my ladyes grace;
Ye be to her yea worth a thousande pounde;
I herde her speke of you within shorte[270] space,
Whan there were dyuerse that sore dyde you manace;
And, though I say it, I was myselfe your frende, 160
For here be dyuerse to you that be vnkynde.
But this one thynge ye maye be sure of me;
For, by that Lorde that bought dere all mankynde,
I can not flater, I muste be playne to thé;
And ye nede ought, man, shewe to me your mynde,
For ye haue me whome faythfull ye shall fynde;
Whyles I haue ought, by God, thou shalt not lacke,
And yf nede be, a bolde worde I dare cracke.
Nay, naye, be sure, whyles I am on your syde,
Ye maye not fall, truste me, ye maye not fayle; 170
Ye stonde[271] in fauoure, and Fortune is your gyde,
And, as she wyll, so shall our grete shyppe sayle:
Thyse lewde cok wattes[272] shall neuermore preuayle
Ageynste you hardely, therfore be not afrayde:
Farewell tyll soone; but no worde that I sayde.
DREDE.
Than thanked I hym for his grete gentylnes:
But, as me thoughte, he ware on hym a cloke,
That lyned was with doubtfull doublenes;
Me thoughte, of wordes that he had full a poke;
His stomak stuffed ofte tymes dyde reboke: 180
Suspycyon, me thoughte,
