Chaucer's Translation of Boethius's "De Consolatione Philosophiae" · Boethius
HIIS IGITUR SI PRO SE.
I holde me stille how þat þe souerayn men of þe Citee toke{n} þe in cure {and} kepynge whan þou were orphelyn of fadir {and} modir. {and} were chosen i{n} affinite of p{r}inces of þe Citee. ¶ And þou bygu{n}ne raþer to ben leef {and} deere þan0 forto ben a neyȝbo{ur}. þe whiche þing is þe most p{re}ciouse kynde of any p{ro}pinquitee or aliau{n}ce þat may ben. ¶ Who is it þat ne seide þou nere ryȝt weleful wiþ so grete a nobley of þi fadres in lawe. ¶ {And} wiþ þe chastite of þi wijf. {and} wiþ þe oportunite {and} noblesse of þi masculyn children. þat is to seyne þi sones {and} ou{er} al þis me lyst to passe of comune þinges. ¶ How þou haddest in þi þouȝt dignitees þat weren warned to olde men. but it deliteþ me to comen now to þe singuler vphepyng of þi welefulnesse. ¶ Yif any fruyt of mortal þinges may han any weyȝte or price of welefulnesse. ¶ Myȝtest þou euere forȝeten for any charge of harme þat myȝt[e] byfallen. þe remembrau{n}ce of þilke day þat þou sey[e] þi two sones maked conseillers. {and} ylad to gidre from þin house vndir so gret assemble of senatours. {and} vndir þe blyþenesse of poeple. {and} whan þou say[e] hem sette in þe court in her chaieres of dignites. ¶ Þou rethorien or p{ro}nou{n}cere of kynges p{re}ysinges. deseruedest glorie of wit {and} of eloquence. whan þou sittyng bytwix þi two sones conseillers in þe place þat hyȝt Circo. {and} fulfildest þe abydyng of multitude of poeple þat was sprad about þe wiþ large p{ra}ysynge {and} laude as me{n} syngen in victories. þo ȝaue þou wordes of fortune as I trowe. þat is to seyne. þo feffedest þou fortune wiþ glosynge wordes {and} desseiuedest hir. whan she accoied[e] þe {and} norsshed[e] þe as hir owen delices. ¶ Þou hast had of fortune a ȝifte þat is to seyn swiche gerdou{n} þat she neu[er]e ȝaf to p{re}ue man ¶ Wilt þou þerfore leye a rekenyng wiþ fortune. she haþ now twynkeled first vpon þe wiþ a wykked eye. ¶ Yif þou considere þe nou{m}bre {and} þe manere of þi blysses. {and} of þi sorwes. þou maist nat forsake þat þou nart ȝit blysful.
For if þou þerfore wenest þi self nat weleful for þinges þat þo semeden ioyful ben passed. ¶ Þer nis nat whi þou sholdest wene þi self a wrecche. for þinges þat now semen soory passen also. ¶ Art þou now comen firste a sodeyne gest in to þe shadowe or tabernacle of þis lijf. or trowest þou þ{a}t any stedfastnesse be in mannis þinges. ¶ Whan ofte a swifte houre dissolueþ þe same man. þat is to seyne whan þe soule dep{ar}tiþ fro þe body. For al þouȝ þat yelde is þer any feiþ þat fortunous þinges willen dwelle. ȝit naþeles þe last[e] day of a ma{n}nis lijf is a man{er}e deeþ to fortune. {and} also to þilke þat haþ dwelt. {and} þerfore what wenist þou þar recche yif þou forlete hir i{n} dey{n}ge or ellys þ{a}t she fortune forlete þe i{n} fleenge awey.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.