Lo thus, mi Sone, as I have write, Thou miht of Jelousie wite His fievere and his condicion, Which is full of suspecion. Bot wherof that this fievere groweth, Who so these olde bokes troweth, 580 Ther mai he finden hou it is: For thei ous teche and telle this, Hou that this fievere of Jelousie Somdel it groweth of sotie Of love, and somdiel of untrust. For as a sek man lest his lust, And whan he may no savour gete, He hateth thanne his oughne mete, Riht so this fieverous maladie, Which caused is of fantasie, 590 Makth the Jelous in fieble plit To lese of love his appetit Thurgh feigned enformacion Of his ymaginacion. Bot finali to taken hiede, Men mai wel make a liklihiede Betwen him which is averous Of gold and him that is jelous Of love, for in on degre Thei stonde bothe, as semeth me. 600 That oon wolde have his bagges stille, And noght departen with his wille, And dar noght for the thieves slepe, So fain he wolde his tresor kepe; That other mai noght wel be glad, For he is evere more adrad Of these lovers that gon aboute, In aunter if thei putte him oute. So have thei bothe litel joye As wel of love as of monoie. 610 Now hast thou, Sone, at my techinge Of Jelousie a knowlechinge, That thou myht understonde this, Fro whenne he comth and what he is, And ek to whom that he is lik. Be war forthi thou be noght sik Of thilke fievere as I have spoke, For it wol in himself be wroke. For love hateth nothing more, As men mai finde be the lore 620 Of hem that whilom were wise, Hou that thei spieke in many wise. Mi fader, soth is that ye sein. Bot forto loke therayein, Befor this time hou it is falle, Wherof ther mihte ensample falle To suche men as be jelous In what manere it is grevous, Riht fain I wolde ensample hiere. My goode Sone, at thi preiere 630 Of suche ensamples as I finde, So as thei comen nou to mynde Upon this point, of time gon I thenke forto tellen on.