Alas, Fortúnë! she that whilom was Dreadful to kingës and to emperoúrs, Now galeth all the people on her, alas! And she that helmed was in starkë stowres, And won by forcë townës strong and tow’rs, Shall on her head now wear a vitremite; And she that bare the sceptre full of flow’rs Shall bear a distaff, her cost for to quite.
Although that Nero were so vicious As any fiend that lies full low adown, Yet he, as telleth us Suetonius, This widë world had in subjectioún, Both East and West, South and Septentrioún. Of rubies, sapphires, and of pearlës white Were all his clothes embroider’d up and down, For he in gemmës greatly gan delight.
More delicate, more pompous of array, More proud, was never emperor than he; That ilkë cloth that he had worn one day, After that time he would it never see; Nettës of gold thread had he great plentý, To fish in Tiber, when him list to play; His lustës were as law, in his degree, For Fortune as his friend would him obey.
He Romë burnt for his délicacý; The senators he slew upon a day, To hearë how that men would weep and cry; And slew his brother, and by his sister lay. His mother made he in piteous array; For he her wombë slittë, to behold Where he conceived was; so well-away! That he so little of his mother told.
No tear out of his eyen for that sight Came; but he said, a fair woman was she. Great wonder is, how that he could or might Be doomësman of her deadë beautý: The wine to bringë him commanded he, And drank anon; none other woe he made, When might is joined unto cruelty, Alas! too deepë will the venom wade.
In youth a master had this emperoúr, To teachë him lettrure and courtesy; For of morality he was the flow’r, As in his timë, but if bookës lie. And while this master had of him mast’rý, He made him so conning and so souple, That longë time it was ere tyranný, Or any vicë, durst in him uncouple.