O scatheful harm, condition of povérty, With thirst, with cold, with hunger so confounded; To askë help thee shameth in thine heartë; If thou none ask, so sore art thou y-wounded, That very need unwrappeth all thy wound hid. Maugré thine head thou must for indigence Or steal, or beg, or borrow thy dispence.
Thou blamest Christ, and sayst full bitterly, He misdeparteth riches temporal; Thy neighëbour thou witest sinfully, And sayst, thou hast too little, and he hath all: “Parfay (sayst thou) sometime he reckon shall, When that his tail shall brennen in the glede, For he not help’d the needful in their need.”
Hearken what is the sentence of the wise: Better to die than to have indigence. Thy selvë neighëbour will thee despise, If thou be poor, farewell thy reverence. Yet of the wisë man take this senténce, Allë the days of poorë men be wick’, Beware therefore ere thou come to that prick.
If thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee, And all thy friendës flee from thee, alas! O richë merchants, full of wealth be ye, O noble, prudent folk, as in this case, Your baggës be not fill’d with ambës ace, But with six- cinque , that runneth for your chance; At Christenmass well merry may ye dance.
Ye seekë land and sea for your winníngs, As wisë folk ye knowen all th’ estate Of regnës; ye be fathers of tidings, And talës, both of peace and of debate: I were right now of talës desolate, But that a merchant, gone in many a year, Me taught a tale, which ye shall after hear.
In Syria whilom dwelt a company Of chapmen rich, and thereto sad and true, That widëwherë sent their spicery, Clothës of gold, and satins rich