# With cursinge and with enterdit.

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**Published on:** 2022-02-11
**URL:** https://paragraph.com/@weeee/with-cursinge-and-with-enterdit

## Content

To kepe his regne fro servage, Conseiled was of his Barnage That miht with miht schal be withstonde. Thus was the cause take on honde, And seiden that the Papacie Thei wolde honoure and magnefie In al that evere is spirital; Bot thilke Pride temporal Of Boneface in his persone, Ayein that ilke wrong al one 2990 Thei wolde stonden in debat: And thus the man and noght the stat The Frensche schopen be her miht To grieve. And fell ther was a kniht, Sire Guilliam de Langharet, Which was upon this cause set; And therupon he tok a route Of men of Armes and rod oute, So longe and in a wayt he lay, That he aspide upon a day 3000 The Pope was at Avinoun, And scholde ryde out of the toun Unto Pontsorge, the which is A Castell in Provence of his. Upon the weie and as he rod, This kniht, which hoved and abod Embuisshed upon horse bak, Al sodeinliche upon him brak And hath him be the bridel sesed, And seide: "O thou, which hast desesed 3010 The Court of France be thi wrong, Now schalt thou singe an other song: Thin enterdit and thi sentence Ayein thin oghne conscience Hierafter thou schalt fiele and grope. We pleigne noght ayein the Pope, For thilke name is honourable, Bot thou, which hast be deceivable And tricherous in al thi werk, Thou Bonefas, thou proude clerk, 3020 Misledere of the Papacie, Thi false bodi schal abye And soffre that it hath deserved." Lo, thus the Supplantour was served; For thei him ladden into France And setten him to his penance Withinne a tour in harde bondes, Wher he for hunger bothe hise hondes Eet of and deide, god wot how: Of whom the wrytinge is yit now 3030 Registred, as a man mai hiere, Which spekth and seith in this manere: Thin entre lich the fox was slyh, Thi regne also with pride on hih Was lich the Leon in his rage; Bot ate laste of thi passage Thi deth was to the houndes like. Such is the lettre of his Cronique Proclamed in the Court of Rome, Wherof the wise ensample nome. 3040 And yit, als ferforth as I dar, I rede alle othre men be war, And that thei loke wel algate That non his oghne astat translate Of holi cherche in no degree Be fraude ne soubtilite: For thilke honour which Aaron tok Schal non receive, as seith the bok, Bot he be cleped as he was. What I schal thenken in this cas 3050 Of that I hiere now aday, I not: bot he which can and may, Be reson bothe and be nature The help of every mannes cure, He kepe Simon fro the folde. For Joachim thilke Abbot tolde How suche daies scholden falle, That comunliche in places alle The Chapmen of such mercerie With fraude and with Supplantarie 3060 So manye scholden beie and selle, That he ne may for schame telle So foul a Senne in mannes Ere. Bot god forbiede that it were In oure daies that he seith: For if the Clerc beware his feith In chapmanhod at such a feire, The remenant mot nede empeire Of al that to the world belongeth; For whan that holi cherche wrongeth, 3070 I not what other thing schal rihte. And natheles at mannes sihte Envie forto be preferred Hath conscience so differred, That noman loketh to the vice Which is the Moder of malice, And that is thilke false Envie, Which causeth many a tricherie; For wher he may an other se That is mor gracious than he, 3080 It schal noght stonden in his miht Bot if he hindre such a wiht: And that is welnyh overal, This vice is now so general. Envie thilke unhapp indrowh, Whan Joab be deceipte slowh Abner, for drede he scholde be With king David such as was he. And thurgh Envie also it fell Of thilke false Achitofell, 3090 For his conseil was noght achieved, Bot that he sih Cusy believed With Absolon and him forsake, He heng himself upon a stake. Senec witnesseth openly How that Envie proprely Is of the Court the comun wenche, And halt taverne forto schenche That drink which makth the herte brenne, And doth the wit aboute renne, 3100 Be every weie to compasse How that he mihte alle othre passe, As he which thurgh unkindeschipe Envieth every felaschipe; So that thou miht wel knowe and se, Ther is no vice such as he, Ferst toward godd abhominable, And to mankinde unprofitable: And that be wordes bot a fewe I schal be reson prove and schewe. 3110 Envie if that I schal descrive, He is noght schaply forto wyve In Erthe among the wommen hiere; For ther is in him no matiere Wherof he mihte do plesance. Ferst for his hevy continance Of that he semeth evere unglad, He is noght able to ben had; And ek he brenneth so withinne, That kinde mai no profit winne, 3120 Wherof he scholde his love plese: For thilke blod which scholde have ese To regne among the moiste veines, Is drye of thilke unkendeli peines Thurgh whiche Envie is fyred ay. And thus be reson prove I may That toward love Envie is noght; And otherwise if it be soght, Upon what side as evere it falle, It is the werste vice of alle, 3130 Which of himself hath most malice. For understond that every vice Som cause hath, wherof it groweth, Bot of Envie noman knoweth Fro whenne he cam bot out of helle. For thus the wise clerkes telle, That no spirit bot of malice Be weie of kinde upon a vice Is tempted, and be such a weie Envie hath kinde put aweie 3140 And of malice hath his steringe, Wherof he makth his bakbitinge, And is himself therof desesed. So mai ther be no kinde plesed; For ay the mor that he envieth, The more ayein himself he plieth. Thus stant Envie in good espeir To ben himself the develes heir, As he which is his nexte liche And forthest fro the heveneriche, 3150 For there mai he nevere wone. Forthi, my goode diere Sone, If thou wolt finde a siker weie To love, put Envie aweie. Min holy fader, reson wolde That I this vice eschuie scholde: Bot yit to strengthe mi corage, If that ye wolde in avantage Therof sette a recoverir, It were tome a gret desir, 3160 That I this vice mihte flee. Nou understond, my Sone, and se, Ther is phisique for the seke, And vertus for the vices eke. Who that the vices wolde eschuie, He mot be resoun thanne suie The vertus; for be thilke weie He mai the vices don aweie, For thei togedre mai noght duelle: For as the water of a welle 3170 Of fyr abateth the malice, Riht so vertu fordoth the vice. Ayein Envie is Charite, Which is the Moder of Pite, That makth a mannes herte tendre, That it mai no malice engendre In him that is enclin therto. For his corage is tempred so, That thogh he mihte himself relieve, Yit wolde he noght an other grieve, 3180 Bot rather forto do plesance He berth himselven the grevance, So fain he wolde an other ese. Wherof, mi Sone, for thin ese Now herkne a tale which I rede, And understond it wel, I rede. Among the bokes of latin I finde write of Constantin The worthi Emperour of Rome, Suche infortunes to him come, 3190 Whan he was in his lusti age, The lepre cawhte in his visage And so forth overal aboute, That he ne mihte ryden oute: So lefte he bothe Schield and spere, As he that mihte him noght bestere, And hield him in his chambre clos. Thurgh al the world the fame aros, The grete clerkes ben asent And come at his comandement 3200 To trete upon this lordes hele. So longe thei togedre dele, That thei upon this medicine Apointen hem, and determine That in the maner as it stod Thei wolde him bathe in childes blod Withinne sevene wynter age: For, as thei sein, that scholde assuage The lepre and al the violence, Which that thei knewe of Accidence 3210 And noght be weie of kinde is falle. And therto thei acorden alle As for final conclusioun, And tolden here opinioun To themperour: and he anon His conseil tok, and therupon With lettres and with seales oute Thei sende in every lond aboute The yonge children forto seche, Whos blod, thei seiden, schal be leche 3220 For themperoures maladie. Ther was ynowh to wepe and crie Among the Modres, whan thei herde Hou wofully this cause ferde, Bot natheles thei moten bowe; And thus wommen ther come ynowhe With children soukende on the Tete. Tho was ther manye teres lete, Bot were hem lieve or were hem lothe, The wommen and the children bothe 3230 Into the Paleis forth be broght With many a sory hertes thoght Of hem whiche of here bodi bore The children hadde, and so forlore Withinne a while scholden se. The Modres wepe in here degre, And manye of hem aswoune falle, The yonge babes criden alle: This noyse aros, the lord it herde, And loked out, and how it ferde 3240 He sih, and as who seith abreide Out of his slep, and thus he seide: "O thou divine pourveance, Which every man in the balance Of kinde hast formed to be liche, The povere is bore as is the riche And deieth in the same wise, Upon the fol, upon the wise Siknesse and hele entrecomune; Mai non eschuie that fortune 3250 Which kinde hath in hire lawe set; Hire strengthe and beaute ben beset To every man aliche fre, That sche preferreth no degre As in the disposicioun Of bodili complexioun: And ek of Soule resonable The povere child is bore als able To vertu as the kinges Sone; For every man his oghne wone 3260 After the lust of his assay The vice or vertu chese may. Thus stonden alle men franchised, Bot in astat thei ben divised; To some worschipe and richesse, To some poverte and distresse, On lordeth and an other serveth; Bot yit as every man deserveth The world yifth noght his yiftes hiere. Bot certes he hath gret matiere 3270 To ben of good condicioun, Which hath in his subjeccioun The men that ben of his semblance." And ek he tok a remembrance How he that made lawe of kinde Wolde every man to lawe binde, And bad a man, such as he wolde Toward himself, riht such he scholde Toward an other don also. And thus this worthi lord as tho 3280 Sette in balance his oghne astat And with himself stod in debat, And thoghte hou that it was noght good To se so mochel mannes blod Be spilt for cause of him alone. He sih also the grete mone, Of that the Modres were unglade, And of the wo the children made, Wherof that al his herte tendreth, And such pite withinne engendreth, 3290 That him was levere forto chese His oghne bodi forto lese, Than se so gret a moerdre wroght Upon the blod which gulteth noght. Thus for the pite which he tok Alle othre leches he forsok, And put him out of aventure Al only into goddes cure; And seith, "Who that woll maister be, He mot be servant to pite." 3300 So ferforth he was overcome With charite, that he hath nome His conseil and hise officers, And bad unto hise tresorers That thei his tresour al aboute Departe among the povere route Of wommen and of children bothe, Wherof thei mihte hem fede and clothe And saufli tornen hom ayein Withoute lost of eny grein. 3310 Thurgh charite thus he despendeth His good, wherof that he amendeth The povere poeple, and contrevaileth The harm, that he hem so travaileth: And thus the woful nyhtes sorwe To joie is torned on the morwe; Al was thonkinge, al was blessinge, Which erst was wepinge and cursinge; Thes wommen gon hom glade ynowh, Echon for joie on other lowh, 3320 And preiden for this lordes hele, Which hath relessed the querele, And hath his oghne will forsake In charite for goddes sake. Bot now hierafter thou schalt hiere What god hath wroght in this matiere, As he which doth al equite. To him that wroghte charite He was ayeinward charitous, And to pite he was pitous: 3330 For it was nevere knowe yit That charite goth unaquit. The nyht, whan he was leid to slepe, The hihe god, which wolde him kepe, Seint Peter and seint Poul him sende, Be whom he wolde his lepre amende. Thei tuo to him slepende appiere Fro god, and seide in this manere: "O Constantin, for thou hast served Pite, thou hast pite deserved: 3340 Forthi thou schalt such pite have That god thurgh pite woll thee save. So schalt thou double hele finde, Ferst for thi bodiliche kinde, And for thi wofull Soule also, Thou schalt ben hol of bothe tuo. And for thou schalt thee noght despeire, Thi lepre schal nomore empeire Til thou wolt sende therupon Unto the Mont of Celion, 3350 Wher that Silvestre and his clergie Togedre duelle in compaignie For drede of thee, which many day Hast ben a fo to Cristes lay, And hast destruid to mochel schame The prechours of his holy name. Bot now thou hast somdiel appesed Thi god, and with good dede plesed, That thou thi pite hast bewared Upon the blod which thou hast spared. 3360 Forthi to thi salvacion Thou schalt have enformacioun, Such as Silvestre schal the teche: The nedeth of non other leche." This Emperour, which al this herde, "Grant merci lordes," he ansuerde, "I wol do so as ye me seie. Bot of o thing I wolde preie: What schal I telle unto Silvestre Or of youre name or of youre estre?" 3370 And thei him tolden what thei hihte, And forth withal out of his sihte Thei passen up into the hevene. And he awok out of his swevene, And clepeth, and men come anon: He tolde his drem, and therupon In such a wise as he hem telleth The Mont wher that Silvestre duelleth Thei have in alle haste soght, And founde he was and with hem broght 3380 To themperour, which to him tolde His swevene and elles what he wolde. And whan Silvestre hath herd the king, He was riht joiful of this thing, And him began with al his wit To techen upon holi writ Ferst how mankinde was forlore, And how the hihe god therfore His Sone sende from above, Which bore was for mannes love, 3390 And after of his oghne chois He tok his deth upon the crois; And how in grave he was beloke, And how that he hath helle broke, And tok hem out that were him lieve; And forto make ous full believe That he was verrai goddes Sone, Ayein the kinde of mannes wone Fro dethe he ros the thridde day, And whanne he wolde, as he wel may, 3400 He styh up to his fader evene With fleissh and blod into the hevene; And riht so in the same forme In fleissh and blod he schal reforme, Whan time comth, the qwike and dede At thilke woful dai of drede, Where every man schal take his dom, Als wel the Maister as the grom. The mihti kinges retenue That dai may stonde of no value 3410 With worldes strengthe to defende; For every man mot thanne entende To stonde upon his oghne dedes And leve alle othre mennes nedes. That dai mai no consail availe, The pledour and the plee schal faile, The sentence of that ilke day Mai non appell sette in delay; Ther mai no gold the Jugge plie, That he ne schal the sothe trie 3420 And setten every man upriht, Als wel the plowman as the kniht: The lewed man, the grete clerk Schal stonde upon his oghne werk, And such as he is founde tho, Such schal he be for everemo. Ther mai no peine be relessed, Ther mai no joie ben encressed, Bot endeles, as thei have do, He schal receive on of the tuo. 3430 And thus Silvestre with his sawe The ground of al the newe lawe With gret devocion he precheth, Fro point to point and pleinly techeth Unto this hethen Emperour; And seith, the hihe creatour Hath underfonge his charite, Of that he wroghte such pite, Whan he the children hadde on honde. Thus whan this lord hath understonde 3440 Of al this thing how that it ferde, Unto Silvestre he thanne ansuerde, With al his hole herte and seith That he is redi to the feith. And so the vessel which for blod Was mad, Silvestre, ther it stod, With clene water of the welle In alle haste he let do felle, And sette Constantin therinne Al naked up unto the chinne. 3450 And in the while it was begunne, A liht, as thogh it were a Sunne, Fro hevene into the place com Wher that he tok his cristendom; And evere among the holi tales Lich as thei weren fisshes skales Ther fellen from him now and eft, Til that ther was nothing beleft Of al his grete maladie. For he that wolde him purefie, 3460 The hihe god hath mad him clene, So that ther lefte nothing sene; He hath him clensed bothe tuo, The bodi and the Soule also. Tho knew this Emperour in dede That Cristes feith was forto drede, And sende anon hise lettres oute And let do crien al aboute, Up peine of deth that noman weyve That he baptesme ne receive: 3470 After his Moder qweene Heleine He sende, and so betwen hem tweine Thei treten, that the Cite all Was cristned, and sche forth withall. This Emperour, which hele hath founde, Withinne Rome anon let founde Tuo cherches, which he dede make For Peter and for Poules sake, Of whom he hadde avisioun; And yaf therto possessioun 3480 Of lordschipe and of worldes good. Bot how so that his will was good Toward the Pope and his Franchise, Yit hath it proved other wise, To se the worchinge of the dede: For in Cronique this I rede; Anon as he hath mad the yifte, A vois was herd on hih the lifte, Of which al Rome was adrad, And seith: "To day is venym schad 3490 In holi cherche of temporal, Which medleth with the spirital." And hou it stant of that degree Yit mai a man the sothe se: God mai amende it, whan he wile, I can ther to non other skile. Bot forto go ther I began, How charite mai helpe a man To bothe worldes, I have seid: And if thou have an Ere leid, 3500 Mi Sone, thou miht understonde, If charite be take on honde, Ther folweth after mochel grace. Forthi, if that thou wolt pourchace How that thou miht Envie flee, Aqueinte thee with charite, Which is the vertu sovereine. Mi fader, I schal do my peine: For this ensample which ye tolde With al myn herte I have withholde, 3510 So that I schal for everemore Eschuie Envie wel the more: And that I have er this misdo, Yif me my penance er I go. And over that to mi matiere Of schrifte, why we sitten hiere In privete betwen ous tweie, Now axeth what ther is, I preie. Mi goode Sone, and for thi lore I woll thee telle what is more, 3520 So that thou schalt the vices knowe: For whan thei be to thee full knowe, Thou miht hem wel the betre eschuie. And for this cause I thenke suie The forme bothe and the matiere, As now suiende thou schalt hiere Which vice stant next after this: And whan thou wost how that it is, As thou schalt hiere me devise, Thow miht thiself the betre avise. 3530 Explicit Liber Secundus Incipit Liber Tercius Ira suis paribus est par furiis Acherontis, Quo furor ad tempus nil pietatis habet. Ira malencolicos animos perturbat, vt equo Iure sui pondus nulla statera tenet. Omnibus in causis grauat Ira, set inter amantes, Illa magis facili sorte grauamen agit: Est vbi vir discors leuiterque repugnat amori, Sepe loco ludi fletus ad ora venit. If thou the vices lest to knowe, Mi Sone, it hath noght ben unknowe, Fro ferst that men the swerdes grounde, That ther nis on upon this grounde, A vice forein fro the lawe, Wherof that many a good felawe Hath be distraght be sodein chance; And yit to kinde no plesance It doth, bot wher he most achieveth His pourpos, most to kinde he grieveth, 10 As he which out of conscience Is enemy to pacience: And is be name on of the Sevene, Which ofte hath set this world unevene, And cleped is the cruel Ire, Whos herte is everemore on fyre To speke amis and to do bothe, For his servantz ben evere wrothe. Mi goode fader, tell me this: What thing is Ire? Sone, it is 20 That in oure englissh Wrathe is hote, Which hath hise wordes ay so hote, That all a mannes pacience Is fyred of the violence. For he with him hath evere fyve Servantz that helpen him to stryve: The ferst of hem Malencolie Is cleped, which in compaignie An hundred times in an houre Wol as an angri beste loure, 30 And noman wot the cause why. Mi Sone, schrif thee now forthi: Hast thou be Malencolien? Ye, fader, be seint Julien, Bot I untrewe wordes use, I mai me noght therof excuse: And al makth love, wel I wot, Of which myn herte is evere hot, So that I brenne as doth a glede For Wrathe that I mai noght spede. 40 And thus fulofte a day for noght Save onlich of myn oghne thoght I am so with miselven wroth, That how so that the game goth With othre men, I am noght glad; Bot I am wel the more unglad, For that is othre mennes game It torneth me to pure grame. Thus am I with miself oppressed Of thoght, the which I have impressed, 50 That al wakende I dreme and meete That I with hire al one meete And preie hire of som good ansuere: Bot for sche wol noght gladly swere, Sche seith me nay withouten oth; And thus wexe I withinne wroth, That outward I am al affraied, And so distempred and esmaied. A thousand times on a day Ther souneth in myn Eres nay, 60 The which sche seide me tofore: Thus be my wittes as forlore; And namely whan I beginne To rekne with miself withinne How many yeres ben agon, Siththe I have trewly loved on And nevere tok of other hede, And evere aliche fer to spede

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