Ac wel worth Poverte, For he may walke unrobbede, Among pilours in pees, Yf pacience hym folwe, Oure prynce Jhesu poverte chees, And hus aposteles alle, And ay the lenger thei lyveden The lasse good thei hadde. _Tanquam nihil habentes, et omnia possidentes._ Yut men that of Abraam And Job were wonder ryche, And out of numbre tho men Menye meobles hadden. Abraam, for al hus good, Hadde muche teene, In gret poverte was y-put, A pryns as hit were Bynom hym ys housewif And heeld here hymself, And Abraam nat hardy Ones to letten hym, Ne for brightnesse of here beauté Here spouse to be byknowe. And for he suffrede and seide nouht, Oure Lord sente tokne, That the kynge cride To Abraam mercy, And deliverede hym hus wif, With muche welthe after. And also Job the gentel What joye hadde he on erthe, How bittere he hit bouhte! As the book telleth. And for he songe in hus sorwe, _Si bona accipimus a Domino_, Dereworthe dere God, Do we so _mala_; Al hus sorwe to solas Thorgh that songe turnede, And Job bycam a jolif man, And al hus joye newe. Lo how patience in here poverte Thees patriarkes relevede, And brouhte hem al above That in bale rotede, As greyn that lyth in the greot And thorgh grace atte laste Spryngeth up and spredeth, So spedde the fader Abraam, And also the gentel Job, Here joie hath non ende. Ac leveth nouht, ye lewede men, That ich lacke richesse, Thauh ich preise poverte thus, And preove hit by ensamples, Worthiour as by holy writ, And wise philosophers, Bothe two but goode, Be ye ful certayn, And lyves that our Lorde loveth, And large weyes to hevene. Ac the povre pacient Purgatorye passeth Rathere than the ryche, Thauh thei renne at ones. For yf a marchaunt and a messager Metten to-gederes, For the parcels of hus paper And other pryvey dettes, Wol lette hym as ich leyve The lengthe of a myle; The messager doth namore Bote hus mouth telleth, Hus lettere and hus ernde sheweth, And is anon delyvered; And thauh thei wende by the wey Tho two to-gederes. Thauh the messager made hus wey Amyde the whete, Wole no wys man wroth be, Ne hus wed take, Ys non haiwarde y-hote Hus wed for to take. _Necessitas non habet legem._ Ac yf the marchaunt make hus way Overe menne cornne, And the haywarde happe With hym for to mete, Other hus hatt, other hus hed, Other elles hus gloves, The merchaunt mot for-go, Other moneys of huse porse, And yut be lett, as ich leyve, For the lawe asketh Marchauns for here merchandise In meny place to tullen. Yut thauh thei wenden on wey As to Wynchestre fayre, The marchaunt with hus marchaundise May nat go so swythe As the messager may, Ne with so mochel ese. For that on bereth bote a boxe, A brevet therynne, Ther the marchaunt ledeth a male With meny kynne thynges; And dredeth to be ded therefore,