The tragedies, gathered by Ihon Bochas, of all such princes as fell from theyr estates throughe the mutability of fortune since the creacion of Adam, vntil his time wherin may be seen what vices bring menne to destruccion, wyth notable warninges howe the like may be auoyded. Translated into Englysh by Iohn Lidgate, monke of Burye.

The .iii. Chapiter.

¶ An exclamaciō of Bochas ayenst al proude men, shewynge howe God maye them and their pryde abate whan hym best lyste, by manye dyuers meanes and wayes punyshe and chaslyce.

ME al proud, most ryal in your floures, Whych that most trust to reygne long, Dresseth vp youre roches and youre towres, And ayenst God make youre selfe stronge: And let your power proudly vnderfonge, Your selfe wyth pryde for to magnifye, Ayenst the heuin to holde the champartye:

Buyld vp your castles, reyse them vp tyghte, Of Adamantes wyth yron stronge ybounde, With square stones, large and huge of hyght, Reyse vp your walles most mighty & profoūd And shit your dūgeōs w^t mighty chenes roūd, Lette men of armes (who euer wake or slepe) Nyght and daye your watche so straitly kepe

As god ne man in your opinions Your fortresses myghte not assayle, Your Castels, ne your stronge dungeons, Stuffed wyth men & plenty of vytayle, Lyke to stande euer and neuer for to fayle: As god not might ayenst your false puissaūce. Whā euer hym lyst of right to do vengeaunce.

Set afore youre eyen that ben blynd The monstruous werke of greate Babilone: The pride of Nēbroth that was put behinde, Maugre his mighte, & his towre smyt doun: For al the craft of werkemen and mason Distroied was with a sodayne leuin, To auenge hys pryde sent a downe fro heuin.

For though your strengthes so assured be That none engyne may thereto attayne, Gunne ne Bumberdes by no subtilte, Shot of arowblast, ne touche of dundayne, Yet god that is lord and souerayne Which lyche desertes can both spyl & saue, May confounde it with an erth quaue.

Myne auctour asketh what castel or towre May be so strōge made in any wyse, But that by meane of some false traytoure, Or by some way that he can deuyse, It may be lost, or solde for couetise: And deliuered for al the stronge bondes,

Into the power of their enemies handes,

Or by some other sodayne aduenture. Castels & cities and many a riche towne, Haue be lost, they might not them assure For to resist ayenst false trayson: Sume haue be lost also by rebellion And all these meanes the truth to begyn, Is but punishynge whyche god sent for syn.

God hath a thousande handes to chastyse, A thousande dartes of punicion, A thousande bowes made in diuers wyse, I thousande arowblastes bent in hys dōgeō, Ordeyned echeon for castigacion: But where he findeth mekenes & repentaūce, Mercy is maistresse of his ordinaunce.

Ye that bene wyse considereth howe the rote Of vices al is pride, ye may well se: Pulleth him downe, and putteth vnderfote, And taketh your counceyl of humilitie: And if ye list to stande in surete, Byldeth in hert for more sekernesse A towre of vertues, grounded on mekenesse.

Whose masonry is of no costage, Of vertues grounde and soueraine: Blastes of wyndes and of weders rage, Neyther no tempest hasty ne sodayne, Pompe ne blast, though they do their payne, This vertue mekenesse for to vndermyne, They be to feble to make her to enclyne.

For where mekenesse is grounded verily, Though he somtime fele aduersite, He passeth ouer, and suffreth paciently, And venquisheth all maner enmytie. The assaute also and the contrariosite Of infortune and of worldly trouble, And of victory conquereth a Palme double.

And tho mekenes amiddes the flodes flowe Of worldly mischefe and persecucion, Whyle pacience in her bote doth rowe Tho froward waues tosse her vp and downe, A calme shall folowe of consolacion: Whan sterne windes their blastes haue laid lowe The name of mekenesse shal shewe & be well knowe:

She may be troubled, but ouercome neuer: And for a tyme she may suffre werre, But at the ende she vanquisheth euer, On land and see whether she be nere or ferre, To the hau•••• of life she was the lode sterre, I take recorde of the humilite, Of Mary so blessed mote she be.

The rote of mekenes floureth vp so faire Whose beaute dredeth no tribulacions, In somer ne wynter her floures not apayre, And her frute lasteth in all maner seasons: Pryde may assayle with his bostful sownes, And finally for her encrease of glory, With humblenes she wynneth the victorye.

¶ Lenuoye.

Ofolkes al that this tragedies rede, Haueth to me kenes amonge youre ad∣uertence Of proude Nembroth also taketh hede, How that he fel from his magnificence, Onely for he by sturdy violence, List of malice the mighty lorde assayle. But in such case what myght his pride auayli

Noble princes which this worlde do possede, Ye that be famous of wysdome and science, And haue so many subiectes that you drede, In gouernaunce vnder your excellence: Let your power with mekenes so dispence, That false pride oppresse not the poreyle, Which to your nobles so muche may auayle.

Pride of Nembroth dyd the brydel lede, Which him conuayed with great insolence: Pride apertayneth nothynge to manhede, Saue in armes to shewe his presence: Wherfore honour, laude, and reuerence Be to mekenes, that hath the gouernaile Of al vertues, which man may most auayle.