So sore, that thei have him founde Liggende there upon the morwe; And tho was noght a litel sorwe, That Faunus of himselve made, Bot elles thei were alle glade 6930 And lowhen him to scorne aboute: Saba with Nimphis al a route[583] Cam doun to loke hou that he ferde,[584] And whan that thei the sothe herde, He was bejaped overal. [Sidenote: Confessor.] Mi Sone, be thou war withal To seche suche mecheries, Bot if thou have the betre aspies, In aunter if the so betyde As Faunus dede thilke tyde, 6940 Wherof thou miht be schamed so. [Sidenote: Amans.] Min holi fader, certes no. Bot if I hadde riht good leve, Such mecherie I thenke leve: Mi feinte herte wol noght serve; For malgre wolde I noght deserve In thilke place wher I love. Bot for ye tolden hier above Of Covoitise and his pilage, If ther be more of that lignage, 6950 [Sidenote: =P. ii. 362=] Which toucheth to mi schrifte, I preie That ye therof me wolde seie, So that I mai the vice eschuie. [Sidenote: Confessor.] Mi Sone, if I be order suie[585] The vices, as thei stonde arowe,[586] Of Covoitise thou schalt knowe Ther is yit on, which is the laste; In whom ther mai no vertu laste, For he with god himself debateth, Wherof that al the hevene him hateth. 6960