# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 46

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XLVI
The Friend the Lover doth remind That one man only did he find Faithful in poverty, but he Gave all he had, unstintingly.8470
A faithful friend I come, dear friend, quoth he, to make An offering free, for friendship’s sake, Alike of life and goods, fear not To share with me in common lot. How much then? Nay, no part, but all, If for the whole your need doth call.
Of Fortune’s gifts, the entire sum With me weighs not one worthless plum As ’gainst a friend, nor e’en would I To you those precious gifts deny8480 ​Friendship unfeigned Kind nature gave me: since the day That first we met, not once astray Have gone our hearts, but many a proof Have had that, like the web with woof, Are they conjoined in friendship true, And proof alone assurance due Affordeth of a friendship’s worth. If all that I possess on earth You deigned to take, my heart would be Grateful to you exceedingly,8490 So powerful are the cords that bind Two men whose bodies hold one mind. For I, quoth he, to heal your woe To prison, light of heart, would go As borrow, pawn, or hostage plight, While all my goods were sold outright For your behoof. But this dear friend Permitted not his work to end With offering, but would take no rest Until he generously had pressed8500 His having on me, who, for shame, Stood silently, as one who’d blame Himself, yet dares not ope his lips To tell the wretchedness that grips His inmost heart, but tries to hide The poverty that like a tide O’erwhelms him, and with cheerful face Would fain conceal his dire disgrace.
Far different is the case, I doubt, With monkish mendicants, those stout8510 ​Of begging friars And thriving blades, the begging friars, Who show themselves as rough as briars In open street, but love to win, With oily tongues, their way within The goodmen’s houses whom they cheat With lying words, while drink and meat They batten on; and though they sing Their poverty, they’re gathering Fat livelihood, and many a heap Of deniers have they dolven deep8520 Beneath the earth. Much more could I Relate of this fraternity, But thereby should from bad to worse Be thrust, and fear their spiteful curse, For none these hypocrites, forsooth, So hate as those who speak the truth.
Alas then! I must count me mad That such blind confidence I had In treacherous friends, from whom I got No help, but all alone to rot8530 Was left, rejected and despised Of all the crowd which erst had prized My friendship mightily. Alone You stood my friend when all were gone, Your heart with mine fast intertwined, And both, please God, shall stand combined In constant love. But out, alas! One day our mortal forms must pass From this terrestrial life, and we Forego each other’s company,8540 ​Friendship outlasts death When comes the last and dreadful day, And all our bodies ’neath the sway Of death must fall; but even then Death, nought, dear friend, can snatch from men Except their bodies and recall To earth their substance corporal.
Death’s iron hand will seize us both Ere long, however much we’re loth To meet him. Rarely doth Death take Two friends together, yet I make8550 No question if I first am ta’en, I still shall in your heart remain Embalmed; or if ’tis yours to die Before me, rest assured that I Shall keep your memory green. E’en so
The records of past ages show How bitterly great Theseus grieved When Peirithous from him was reived By death, and sought his friend in hell.
But Poverty is far more fell8560 And cruel than grim Death: to soul And body both it bringeth dole, Without the respite of an hour, And urgeth men to actions dour, Of murder, theft, and perjury, And whatso other vice may be Wherewith man’s race is pesterèd, While oftentimes doth Death bestead ​Men in their woes, which, howso great They be, his hand will dissipate.8570 Beware of poverty And therefore, dear companion, now Remember Solomon, whose brow Of old bore Israel’s diadem, And left us many an apophthegm, Whereof one saith: Beware, my son, Of poverty whilst living on The earth: and in another breath He furthereth this good word, and saith: Better it is, by far, to die Than live on earth in poverty,8580 Since, against those who own them poor, Their very brethren shut the door; And of poor caitiffs speaking still, Whose lot it is to bear the ill Of indigence, he shows how they In woeful wise wear through their day. Scarce can a man’s estate be worse Than when stark bare he finds his purse; For those who on the laws have writ Declare the indigent unfit8590 To testify as witnesses; And in the statute book it says, That poor, impoverished men must lie In the same bed with infamy.
Of beauty, poverty is bare; But I with full assurance dare Affirm, that if good store of gold, And jewels rich, your coffers hold, Then may you have fair hope to gain Such wealth of roses as may fain8600 ​Presents avail much Your heart: they ne’er shall be fast closed Against you, if you’re well disposed To lavish gifts, as you have been Profuse of promises, I ween. It needs not to be over-rich, But have a care you do not stitch Your purse too closely; give with care Such presents as, though choice and fair, Are small of cost and leave you still Some coin to line your purse, for ill8610 You’d surely fare if you were left Penniless; of all wealth bereft But little sympathy you’d find, While many a one would mock behind His back at him who, like a fool, Let fond desire o’er reason rule, Paying the favours that he got With ruin of his life, God wot.
In my esteem there’s nought more sweet Than some belovèd face to greet8620 With pretty presents choicely set In dainty cloth or wicker net: Sweet figs, or gooseberries or cherries, Black bramble fruit, or huckleberries, A luscious peach with velvet skin, Or rosy, smooth-faced nectarine, Berries of service tree or lote, Or medlars soft with russet coat, Dark plums or grapes with silvery bloom, Or strawberries, which through all the room8630 Cast fragrance, almonds, hard of shell, But whose sweet kernel payeth well ​The pains to force it, or the rud Rich mulberries which fair Thisbe’s blood Distained: and if perchance you are Compelled to buy them, say from far Your pains have brought them, though they come From nearest market; mingle some Sweet flowers with fruits, fair roses pink And white, and violets, and pervinke8640 Of sapphire hue, and other flowers That gladden spring and summer hours.
Gifts more than words A dainty gift will often reach Rough hearts and modify rude speech. And if perchance some ill men know Concerning you, they’ll be more slow To blurt it forth. Oft gifts have made Heroes of those who in the shade Had lain without them. Delicate meats And wines have often won fat seats8650 For prebendaries. How men live Matters but little if they give Freely, for oft a handsome gift Hath had the power to fill a rift In honesty or virtue, and While praise the giver gains, a band ’Twill put on the receiver, who His freedom thereby sells to you, And soul and body puts to price, Drawn on thereto by avarice.8660 With what word shall I finish then? Good gifts are loved of Gods and men.
If you but lend a willing ear To that I say, you need not fear ​But what the God of Love will show You grace and favour when you go To seize the fort; whatever he Hath promised shall accomplished be. For so will Love and Venus fight The gaolers, that in their despite8670 The Rosebud you your own may call, Though hemmed around by rampart wall. Hold love when won But when at last you have attained Your end, and heart and soul are fained Therewith, wise prudence it demands To hold the prize; for when with hands And brain we painfully have wrought To win, experience dire hath taught That harder ’tis to hold. He well May rail at Fortune’s cruel spell8680 Who loses her on whom was placed His tenderest love, although were traced The cause to his misdeed. No pains A man should spare, when once he gains A gracious woman’s love, to keep The treasure to himself, nor cheap Esteem God’s gift, more specially If virtuous, wise, and fair she be, Yet lays no scheme or plot from whence Guerdon to seek or recompense,8690 For ne’er was love yet put to price, Except by those in whom foul vice Had made its woning. Ne’er in dames Who sell them have the gentle flames Of true love burned; keep thou away From such—foul-fire doth in them play. ​Women are coquets But mostly women are, forsooth, Exacting, void of pitying ruth, ’For all, alas! towards those who prove Loyal and faithful in their love,8700 Ready to raven and devour Whate’er may fall within their power. And Juvenal hath said, I ween. Speaking of one hight Iberine, That sooner would she lose an eye Than trust one man to satisfy Her burning lusts, for like hell-fire Raged her insatiable desire. No woman, saith he, e’er was known Who loved a man for love alone8710 In suchwise that her heart were not Mindful what goods or gold he’d got. Judge what she is then who herself Body and soul will sell for pelf. Never, he saith, was woman found, Who did not love to prove and sound Her lover’s faith by coquetry; Although to him she subject be, This passion is ingrained. Such is Juvenal’s sentence, but to this8720 Exceptions bright there are, I trow, As he, I doubt not, would allow, While censuring women void of grace. Yet, if the mistress that hath place Within your soul be soft and sweet, Faithful and gentle, then ’twere meet True love to give for love. The kind And courteous lover looks to find ​Mind more than beauty Not beauty only in the form Of her towards whom his heart-strings warm,8730 But will those virtues rather prize Which live when outward beauty dies; A mind enlightened with fair store Of art and science, and the lore That housewives need; for those who know The worth of wit will count the show Of outward beauty for a thing Unstable, frail, and perishing As flowerets that bedeck the lawn, Faded at eve, though blown at dawn.8740 Fairer a woman’s face, alas! More quickly doth her beauty pass. But fine intelligence and wit Maketh a woman helpmeet fit For man in suchwise, that life’s end Will find her still the cherished friend Of him who loved her youth. A spouse Courteous and gentle should arouse A woman’s tender love, and she. Mingling goodwill with courtesy,8750 Will see her love returned. If one Should ask if much I set upon The power or worth of canzonettes, Ballads, and songs, and rhymed motets, A mistress’ heart to captivate, I needs must say, dear friend, that prate Is much less worth than gifts, but yet Such things some grateful praise beget. More lightly women’s hearts are thrilled To see a good-sized purse well filled8760 ​With golden chinking bezants, then They’ll run with open arms towards men, For they—for better or for worse— Most dearly love a well-lined purse. Far different once was man’s estate, But now the world’s degenerate.
The golden age How pleasant were earth’s simpler ways
In our progenitors’ first days! Old legends tell us how the fires Of love burned bright amongst our sires;8770 No man called this or that his own, And lust and rapine nought were known. While ’dured that glorious golden age, No man could boast of seigniorage, No man affected robes of state. No man e’er craved for delicate Spiced meats, but simple woodland fruits, Beech mast, or nuts, or wholesome roots From out the earth all needs supplied; While fish and flesh were left aside8780 As needless, ’mid the coverts wild Men sought kind Nature’s store of mild And bloodless food; the wilding vine Gave berries though they knew not wine, Apples and pears, and mulberries, Rich plums and chestnuts, beans and peas, And herbs and mushrooms from the field, While valleys, plains, and heights would yield Due sustenance from day to day. From ears of corn they rubbed away8790 The chaff betwixt their palms; they sipped The brown bees’ store which plenteous dripped ​From ancient oak-tree boles, they drank Clear water kneeling on the bank Of crystal streams, nor dreamed to dight Piment therein for appetite; Nor longed for wine grown old in tun, With weary treading hardly won. The fruitful earth no need to ear Had they, it foisoned ’neath God’s care.8800 Thus amply fed, they had no wish For salmons, pikes, or aught of fish. They sheepskins wore against the harm Of winter, or thence wove them warm And simple vesture, which no dye Of grain or herb e’er came anigh. Green broom or rushes roofed their cots, Or sheltered they in hillside grots Fenced in with boughs, or hollow oaks Gave shelter ’gainst rude winter’s strokes.8810