Chaucer's Translation of Boethius's "De Consolatione Philosophiae" · Boethius
VELLEM AUTE{M} PAUCA.
I haue don þe no wrong. Ricches hono{ur}es {and} swyche oþer þinges ben of my ryȝt. ¶ My seruauntes knowen me for hir lady. þei comen wiþ me {and} dep{ar}ten whan I wende. I dar wel affermen hardyly. þat yif þo þinges of whiche þou pleynest þat þou hast forlorn hadde ben þine. þou ne haddest not lorn he{m}. ¶ shal I þan only be defended to vse my ryȝt. ¶ Certis it is leueful to þe heuene to make clere dayes. {and} after þat to keuere þe same dayes wiþ derke nyȝtes. ¶ Þe erþe haþ eke leue to apparaile þe visage of þe erþe now w{i}t{h} floures {and} now wiþ fruyt. {and} to confounde he{m} so{m}tyme wiþ raynes {and} wiþ coldes. ¶ Þe see haþ eke hys ryȝt to be somtyme calme {and} blaundyshing wiþ smoþe water. {and} somtyme to be horrible wiþ wawes {and} wiþ tempestes. ¶ But þe couetyse of men þat may not be staunched shal it bynde me to be stedfast. syn þat stedfastnesse is vnkouþ to my maneres. ¶ Swyche is my strengþe. {and} þis pley. I pley[e] co{n}tinuely.
I tourne þe whirly{n}g whele wiþ þe tournyng cercle ¶ I am glade to chaunge þe lowest to þe heyeste. {and} þe heyest to þe loweste. worþe vp yif þou wilt. so it be by þis lawe. þat þou ne holde not þat I do þe wronge þouȝ þou descende dou{n} whanne resou{n} of my pleye axeþ it. Wost þou not how Cresus kyng of lyndens of whiche kyng Cir{us} was ful sore agast a litel byforne þat þis rewlyche Cresus was cauȝt of Cirus {and} lad to þe fijr to be brent. but þat a reyne desce{n}ded[e] dou{n} from heuene þat rescowed[e] hym ¶ And is it out of þi mynde how þat Paulus consul of Rome whan he hadde take þe kyng of p{er}ciens weep pitou[s]ly for þe captiuitee of þe self[e] kyng. What oþer þinges bywaylen þe criinges of Tragedies. but only þe dedes of fortune. þat wiþ an vnwar stroke ouert{ur}neþ þe realmes of grete nobley ¶ _Glose._ Tragedie is to seyne a dite of a p{ro}sp{er}ite for a tyme þat endiþ in wrechednesse. Lernedest nat þou in grek whan þou were ȝonge þat in þe entre or in þe seler of Iuppiter þer ben couched two tunnes. þat on is ful of good þat oþer is ful of harme. ¶ What ryȝt hast þou to pleyne. yif þou hast taken more plenteuously of þe goode syde þat is to seyne of my rycchesse {and} p{ro}sp{er}ites. {and} what eke. yif I be nat departed fro þe. What eke. yif my mutabilitee ȝiueþ þe ryȝtful cause of hope to han ȝit better þi{n}ges. ¶ Naþeles desmaie þe nat in þi þouȝt. and þ{o}u þat art put in comune realme of alle: ne desijr[e] nat to lyue by þine oonly p{ro}pre ryȝt.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.