230 Withinne his herte and thus he preiseth The gold, and seith hou that it peiseth Above al other metall most: “The gold,” he seith, “may lede an host To make werre ayein a King; The gold put under alle thing, And set it whan him list above; The gold can make of hate love And werre of pes and ryht of wrong, And long to schort and schort to long; 240 Withoute gold mai be no feste, Gold is the lord of man and beste, And mai hem bothe beie and selle; So that a man mai sothly telle That al the world to gold obeieth.” Forthi this king to Bachus preieth To grante him gold, bot he excedeth Mesure more than him nedeth. Men tellen that the maladie Which cleped is ydropesie 250 Resembled is unto this vice Be weie of kinde of Avarice: The more ydropesie drinketh, The more him thursteth, for him thinketh That he mai nevere drinke his fille; So that ther mai nothing fulfille The lustes of his appetit: And riht in such a maner plit Stant Avarice and evere stod; The more he hath of worldes good, 260 The more he wolde it kepe streyte, And evere mor and mor coveite. And riht in such condicioun Withoute good discrecioun This king with avarice is smite, That al the world it myhte wite: For he to Bachus thanne preide, That wherupon his hond he leide, It scholde thurgh his touche anon Become gold, and therupon 270 This god him granteth as he bad. Tho was this king of Frige glad, And forto put it in assai With al the haste that he mai, He toucheth that, he toucheth this, And in his hond al gold it is, The Ston, the Tree, the Lef, the gras, The flour, the fruit, al gold it was. Thus toucheth he, whil he mai laste To go, bot hunger ate laste 280 Him tok, so that he moste nede Be weie of kinde his hunger fede. The cloth was leid, the bord was set, And al was forth tofore him fet, His disch, his coppe, his drinke, his mete; Bot whanne he wolde or drinke or ete, Anon as it his mouth cam nyh, It was al gold, and thanne he syh Of Avarice the folie. And he with that began to crie, 290 And preide Bachus to foryive His gilt, and soffre him forto live And be such as he was tofore, So that he were not forlore. This god, which herde of his grevance, Tok rowthe upon his repentance, And bad him go forth redily Unto a flod was faste by, Which Paceole thanne hyhte, In which as clene as evere he myhte 300 He scholde him waisshen overal, And seide him thanne that he schal Recovere his ferste astat ayein. This king, riht as he herde sein, Into the flod goth fro the lond, And wissh him bothe fot and hond, And so forth al the remenant, As him was set in covenant: And thanne he syh merveilles strange, The flod his colour gan to change, 310 The gravel with the smale Stones To gold thei torne bothe at ones, And he was quit of that he hadde, And thus fortune his chance ladde. And whan he sih his touche aweie, He goth him hom the rihte weie And liveth forth as he dede er, And putte al Avarice afer, And the richesse of gold despiseth,