Happy is they that may well overpasse The narrow bridge over fragilite Of his wanton youth, brytle as the glasse; For the youth is open to all fraylte, Redy to fall to great iniquite; Full well is he that is brydeled fast With fayre dame Reason tyll his youth be past. I obeyed his rest; there was no remedy; My youth was past, and all my lustynes; And right anone to us came Polizy, With Avaryce bringing great riches; My hole pleasure and delyte doubtles Was set upon treasure insaciate, It to beholde and for to aggregate. The fleshly pleasure I had cast asyde, Lytle I loved for to playe or daunce; But ever I thought how I might provyde To spare my treasure, land or substaunce. This was my minde, and all my purveyaunce, As upon deth I thought lytle or never, But gadred riches as I should lyve ever. CAP. XLI. HOWE HE WAS ARESTED BY DEATH. But whan I thought longest to endure, Deth with his darte arest me sodenly; Obey! he sayd, as ye may be sure. You can resist nothing the contrary But that you must obey me naturally. What you avayleth such treasure to take, Sithens by force ye must it now forsake? Alas! quod I, nothing can me ayde, This worldly treasure I must leve behinde, For erth of erth wyll have his dette now payde; What is this world but a blast of wynde. I must nedes dye, it is my native kinde. And as I was at his last conclusyon, To me did come dame Confession, With dame Contricion, which gan to bewayle My synnes great with hole repentaunce, And Satisfaccion without any fayle, Wyth dame Conscience, did wey in balaunce How that they might than without doutaunce My treasure and good so gotten wrongfully To restore agayne to the rightfull party. Of holy church with all humilite My rightes I toke, and than incontinent Nature avayled in so lowe degre That deth was come, and all my lyfe was spent. Out of my body my soule than it wente To Purgatory, for to be purifyed, That after that it might be glorified. CAP. XLII. HOWE REMEMBRAUNCE MADE HIS EPYTAPHY ON HIS GRAVE. The good dame Mercy, with dame Charite, My body buried full right humbly, In a fayre temple of olde antiquite: There was for me a dirige devoutly, And with many a masse full right solemynely; And over my grave to be in memory Remembraunce made this lytle epetaphy: O erth! on erth, it is a wonders case, That thou art blynde and wyll not the know, Though upon erth thou hast thy dwellyng place; Yet erth at last must nedes the overthrow. Thou thinkest thou do be no erth I trow, For if thou diddest thou woldest than apply To forsake pleasure and to lerne to dye. Pryde.