It is no reson that he schal (7900*) Of love have eny proprete. Forthi, mi Sone, avise thee 7770 If thou of love hast be to large, For such a man is noght to charge: And if it so be that thou hast Despended al thi time in wast And set thi love in sondri place, Though thou the substance of thi grace Lese ate laste, it is no wonder; For he that put himselven under, As who seith, comun overal, He lest the love special 7780 Of eny on, if sche be wys; For love schal noght bere his pris Be reson, whanne it passeth on. So have I sen ful many on,[694] That were of love wel at ese, Whiche after felle in gret desese [Sidenote: =P. ii. 395=] Thurgh wast of love, that thei spente In sondri places wher thei wente. [Sidenote: Confessor.] Riht so, mi Sone, I axe of thee If thou with Prodegalite 7790 Hast hier and ther thi love wasted. [Sidenote: Amans.] Mi fader, nay; bot I have tasted In many a place as I have go, And yit love I nevere on of tho, Bot forto drive forth the dai. For lieveth wel, myn herte is ay Withoute mo for everemore Al upon on, for I nomore Desire bot hire love al one: So make I many a prive mone, 7800 For wel I fiele I have despended Mi longe love and noght amended Mi sped, for oght I finde yit. If this be wast to youre wit[695] Of love, and Prodegalite, Nou, goode fader, demeth ye: Bot of o thing I wol me schryve, That I schal for no love thryve, Bot if hirself me wol relieve.[696] [Sidenote: Confessor.] Mi Sone, that I mai wel lieve: 7810 And natheles me semeth so, For oght that thou hast yit misdo Of time which thou hast despended, It mai with grace ben amended. For thing which mai be worth the cost Per chaunce is nouther wast ne lost; [Sidenote: =P. ii. 396=] For what thing stant on aventure,[697] That can no worldes creature (7950*) Telle in certein hou it schal wende,[698] Til he therof mai sen an ende. 7820 So that I not as yit therfore If thou, mi Sone, hast wonne or lore: For ofte time, as it is sene,[699] Whan Somer hath lost al his grene And is with Wynter wast and bare, That him is left nothing to spare, Al is recovered in a throwe; The colde wyndes overblowe, And stille be the scharpe schoures,[700] And soudeinliche ayein his floures 7830 The Somer hapneth and is riche: And so per cas thi graces liche, Mi Sone, thogh thou be nou povere