And for that every false Man hath a Make,
(As unto every wight is light to know)
When this traitor, this woman hath forsake,
He fast speedeth him unto his fellow.
Till he be there, his heart is on a low;
His false deceit ne may him not suffice,
But of his treason telleth all the wise.
Is this a fair avaunt? Is this honour?
A man himself accuse thus and defame!
Is it good to confess himself a traitor?
And bring a woman into slanderous name
And tell how he her body hath do shame?
No worship may he thus, to him conquer,
But great dislander unto him and her!
To her! Nay! Yet ywas it no reprefe;
For all for virtue was, that she ywrought!
But he that brewèd hath all this mischief,
That spake so fair, and falsely inward thought;
His, be the slander! as it by reason ought
And unto Her be thank perpetual
That, in such a need, helpin can so well.
Although through manis sleight and subtilty,
A silly simple and innocent woman
Betrayed is: no wonder! since the city
Of Troyè, as the story tellin can,
Betrayèd was, through the deceit of man,
And set on fire, and all down overthrown;
And finally destroyèd, as men knowèn.
Betrayin not men, cities great and kings?
What wight is it that can shape remedy
Against these falsely proposèd things?
When can the craft, such crafts to espy
But man? whose wit is e'er ready to apply
To thing that sowning is into falshede?
Woman! bethe 'ware of false men! I thee rede!
And, furthermore, have these men in usage
That where they not likely been to sped
Such as they been, with a double visage,
They procurin, for to pursue their need
He prayeth him, in his cause to proceed.
And largely guerdoneth she his travail.
Little wot women, how men them assail!
Another wretch, unto his fellow saith,
"Thou fishest fair! She which that thee hath fired
Is false, inconstant, and she hath no faith.
She for the road, of folk is so desired;
And, as an horse, from day to day she is hired!
That when thou twinnest from her company,
Cometh another; and bleared is thine eye!
Now prick on fast! and ridin thy journey
While thou art there! For she, behind thy back,
So liberal is, she will nothing withsay,
But smartly of another take a smack.
And thus farin these women all the pack
Whoso them trusteth, hanged mote he be!
Ever they desire change and novelty."
Wherefore proceedeth this, but of envy?
For that he himself, her ne winnin may,
He speaketh her reprefe and villainy;
As manis blabbing tongue is wont alway.
Thus divers men full often make assay,
For to disturbin folk in sundry wise,
For they may not eschuin their emprise.
Many one eke would speakin for no good,
That hath in love his timè spent and used.
Men wist, his Lady his asking withstood;
Ere that he were of her, plainly refused.
Or waste and vain all that he had ymused:
Wherefore he can none other remedy,
But on his Lady, shapeth him to lie.