Mi fader, as in this degre My conscience is noght accused; For I no such brocage have used, Wherof that lust of love is wonne. Forthi spek forth, as ye begonne, Of Avarice upon mi schrifte. Mi Sone, I schal the branches schifte Be ordre so as thei ben set, On whom no good is wel beset. 4670 Blinde Avarice of his lignage For conseil and for cousinage, To be withholde ayein largesse, Hath on, whos name is seid Skarsnesse, The which is kepere of his hous, And is so thurghout averous, That he no good let out of honde; Thogh god himself it wolde fonde, Of yifte scholde he nothing have; And if a man it wolde crave, 4680 He moste thanne faile nede, Wher god himselve mai noght spede. And thus Skarsnesse in every place Be reson mai no thonk porchace, And natheles in his degree Above all othre most prive With Avarice stant he this. For he governeth that ther is In ech astat of his office After the reule of thilke vice; 4690 He takth, he kepth, he halt, he bint, That lihtere is to fle the flint Than gete of him in hard or neisshe Only the value of a reysshe Of good in helpinge of an other, Noght thogh it were his oghne brother. For in the cas of yifte and lone Stant every man for him al one, Him thenkth of his unkindeschipe That him nedeth no felaschipe: 4700 Be so the bagge and he acorden, Him reccheth noght what men recorden Of him, or it be evel or good. For al his trust is on his good, So that al one he falleth ofte, Whan he best weneth stonde alofte, Als wel in love as other wise; For love is evere of som reprise To him that wole his love holde. Forthi, mi Sone, as thou art holde, 4710 Touchende of this tell me thi schrifte: Hast thou be scars or large of yifte Unto thi love, whom thou servest? For after that thou wel deservest Of yifte, thou miht be the bet; For that good holde I wel beset, For why thou miht the betre fare; Thanne is no wisdom forto spare. For thus men sein, in every nede He was wys that ferst made mede; 4720 For where as mede mai noght spede, I not what helpeth other dede: Fulofte he faileth of his game That wol with ydel hand reclame His hauk, as many a nyce doth. Forthi, mi Sone, tell me soth And sei the trouthe, if thou hast be Unto thy love or skars or fre.