Friendship.

FROM CHAUCER’S “ROMAUNT OF THE ROSE.”

LOVE of friendship also there is
Which maketh no man done amis,
Of will knitté betwixt two,
1’hat woll not breake for wele ne wo,
Which long is likely to contune,
Whan will and goods been in commune.
Grounded by God’s ordinaunce,
Boole without discordaunce,
With hem holding commauncé
Of all her good in charité,
That there be none exceptioun,
Through chaunging of ententioun,
That each help other at her nede,
And wisely hele both word and dede,
True of meaning, devoid of slouth,
For wit is nought without trouth:
So that the tone dare all his thought
Saine to his friend, and spare nought,
As to himselfe without dreding
To be discovered by wreiying,
For glad is that conjunction
Whan there is non suspection,
Whom they wold prove
That true and perfite weren in love:
For no man may be amiable,
But if he be so firme and stable
That fortune change him not ne blinde,
But that his friend alway him finde
Both poore and riche in o state:
For if his friend through any gate
Woll complaine of his poverté,
He should not bide so long, till he
Of his helping him require,
For good deed done through praiere
Is sold and bought too deare iwis
To herte that of great valour is.
For herte fulfilled of gentlenesse
Can evill demeane his distresse,
And man that worthy is of name
To asken often hath great shame.
A good man brenneth in his thought
For shame when he asketh ought,
He hath great thought, and dredeth aie
For his disease when he shall praie
His friend, least that he warned be
Till that he preve his stabilitie:
But when that he hath founden one
That trustie is and true as stone,
And assayed him at all,
And found him stedfast as a wall,
And of his friendship be certaine,
He shall him shew both joy and paine,
And all that he dare thinke or say,
Without shame, as he well may,
For how should he ashamed be
Of such one as I told thee?
For whan he wote his secret thought,
The third shall know thereof right nought,
For twey in number is bet than three,
In everie counsaile and secree:
Repreve he dredeth never a dele,
Who that beset his wordes wele,
For everie wise man, out of drede,
Can keepe his tongue till he see nede.
And fooles cannot hold hir tongue,
A fooles bell is soone ronge;
Yet shall a true friend doe more
To helpe his fellow of his sore,
And succour him whan he hath need,
In all that he may done indeed,
And gladder that he him pleaseth
Than his felowe that he easeth,
And if he doe not his request,
He shall as muche him molest
As his felowe, for that he
Maie not fulfill his volunte
Fully, as he hath required;
If both the hertes love hath fired
Joye and woe they shall depart,
And take evenly each his part,
Halfe his annoy he shall have aie
And comforte what that he may,
And of this blisse part shall he,
If love woll departed be.