Mi fader, youre ensamplerie In loves cause of Robberie I have it riht wel understonde. Bot overthis, hou so it stonde, 6490 Yit wolde I wite of youre aprise What thing is more of Covoitise. With Covoitise yit I finde A Servant of the same kinde, Which Stelthe is hote, and Mecherie With him is evere in compainie. Of whom if I schal telle soth, He stalketh as a Pocok doth, And takth his preie so covert, That noman wot it in apert. 6500 For whan he wot the lord from home, Than wol he stalke aboute and rome; And what thing he fint in his weie, Whan that he seth the men aweie, He stelth it and goth forth withal, That therof noman knowe schal. And ek fulofte he goth a nyht Withoute Mone or sterreliht, And with his craft the dore unpiketh, And takth therinne what him liketh: 6510 And if the dore be so schet, That he be of his entre let, He wole in ate wyndou crepe, And whil the lord is faste aslepe, He stelth what thing as him best list, And goth his weie er it be wist. Fulofte also be lyhte of day Yit wole he stele and make assay; Under the cote his hond he put, Til he the mannes Purs have cut, 6520 And rifleth that he fint therinne. And thus he auntreth him to winne, And berth an horn and noght ne bloweth, For noman of his conseil knoweth; What he mai gete of his Michinge, It is al bile under the winge. And as an hound that goth to folde And hath ther taken what he wolde, His mouth upon the gras he wypeth, And so with feigned chiere him slypeth, 6530 That what as evere of schep he strangle, Ther is noman therof schal jangle, As forto knowen who it dede; Riht so doth Stelthe in every stede, Where as him list his preie take. He can so wel his cause make And so wel feigne and so wel glose, That ther ne schal noman suppose, Bot that he were an innocent, And thus a mannes yhe he blent: 6540 So that this craft I mai remene Withouten help of eny mene. Ther be lovers of that degre, Which al here lust in privete, As who seith, geten al be Stelthe, And ofte atteignen to gret welthe As for the time that it lasteth. For love awaiteth evere and casteth Hou he mai stele and cacche his preie, Whan he therto mai finde a weie: 6550 For be it nyht or be it day, He takth his part, whan that he may, And if he mai nomore do, Yit wol he stele a cuss or tuo. Mi Sone, what seist thou therto? Tell if thou dedest evere so. Mi fader, hou? Mi Sone, thus,— If thou hast stolen eny cuss Or other thing which therto longeth, For noman suche thieves hongeth: 6560 Tell on forthi and sei the trouthe.