Ac that moost meved me And my mood chaunged, That Reson rewarded And ruled alle beestes, Save man and his make; Many tyme and ofte No reson hem folwede. And thanne I rebukede Reson, and right 7320 Til hymselven I seyde: "I have wonder of thee," quod I, "That witty art holden, Why thow ne sewest man and his make, That no mysfeet hem folwe." And Reson a-rated me, And seide, "Recche thee nevere; Why I suffre or noght suffre, Thiself hast noght to doone. Amende thow it, if thow myght, 7330 For my tyme is to abide. Suffraunce is a soverayn vertue, {225} And a swift vengeance. Who suffrede moore than God?" quod he; "No gome, as I leeve. He myghte amende in a minute while Al that mys-standeth; Ac he suffreth for som mannes goode, And so it is oure bettre, The wise and the witty 7340 Wroot thus in the Bible: _De re quæ te non molestat, noli certare._ "For be a man fair or foul, = It falleth noght for to lakke The shap ne the shaft That God shoop hymselve; For al that he dide was wel y-do, As holy writ witnesseth: _Et vidit Deus cuncta quæ fecerat, et 7350 erant valde bona._ "And bad every creature In his kynde encreesse; Al to murthe with man, That moste wo tholie In fondynge of the flessh, And of the fend bothe. For man was maad of swich a matere, He may noght wel a-sterte That ne som tyme hym bitit 7360 To folwen his kynde. Caton a-cordeth therwith, _Nemo sine crimine vivit._" Tho caughte I colour anoon, And comsed to ben ashamed, And awaked therwith. {226} Wo was me thanne, That I in metels ne myghte Moore have y-knowen. And thanne seide I to myself, 7370 And chidde that tyme, "Now I woot what Do-wel is," quod I, "By deere God! as me thynketh." And as I caste up myne eighen, Oon loked on me and asked Of me, what thynge it were: "Y-wis, sire," I seide, "To se muche and suffre moore, Certes," quod I, "is Do-wel." "Haddestow suffred," he seide, 7380 "Slepynge tho thow were, Thow sholdest have knowen that Clergie kan, And contreved moore thorugh reson. For Reson wolde have reherced thee Right as Clergie seide. Ac for thyn entre-metynge, Here artow forsake. _Philosophus esses, si tacuisses._ "Adam, whiles he spak noght, Hadde paradis at wille; 7390 Ac whan he mamelede aboute mete, And entre-metede to knowe The wisedom and the wit of God, He was put fram blisse. "And right so ferde Reson bi thee; Thow with thi rude speche Lakkedest and losedest thyng That longed the noght to doone. Tho hadde he no likyng For to lere the moore. 7400 {227}