¶ I was hiȝ of herte and stowte,
And in my cloþing wondre gay;
I lokide men schulde vn-to me lowte
Where-so þat y wente bi þe wey.
Line 28
Faire wommen, and good aray,
Al myn entent y took þer-to;
Aȝen þi techinge euere y seide nay;
I wite my silf myn owne woo!
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¶ I trustide more to worldli good
Þan to god þat it me sente;
Weelþe made me hiȝ of mood;
Lust and likyng me ouer wente.
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To gete good y wolde not stente,
Y ne rouȝte how y come þer-to;
To þe poore y neiþer ȝaf ne lente;
Y wiyte my silf myn owne woo!
Line 40
¶ Lord, y hadde no drede of þee; [page 228]
Mi grace wente away þerfore;
But, lord, as þou bouȝtist me,
So lete me neuere be for-lore.
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For me þou suffredist peines sore;
Þou art my freend, and y þi foo;
Mercy, lord! y wole no more;
Y wiyte my silf myn owne woo!
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¶ Þer ben .iij. poyntis of myscheef
Þat ben confusioun to many a man,
Which þat worchen to her soulis greet greef;
Y schal hem rehersen as y can.
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Poore men proud, þat litil han,
Þei wolen be a-raied as riche men goo;
Þei hindren hem silf & oþir þan,
And mowe wiyte hem silf her owne woo.
Line 56
¶ A riche man, þeef, is anothir,
Þat of coueitise wole not slake;
