DREDE.
The sayle is vp, Fortune ruleth our helme,
We wante no wynde to passe now ouer all;
Fauoure we haue tougher[267] than ony[268] elme,
That wyll abyde and neuer from vs fall: 130
But vnder hony ofte tyme lyeth bytter gall;
For, as me thoughte, in our shyppe I dyde see
Full subtyll persones, in nombre foure and thre.
The fyrste was Fauell, full of flatery,
Wyth fables false that well coude fayne a tale;
The seconde was Suspecte, whiche that dayly
Mysdempte eche man, with face deedly and pale;
And Haruy Hafter,[269] that well coude picke a male;
With other foure of theyr affynyte,
Dysdayne, Ryotte, Dyssymuler, Subtylte. 140
Fortune theyr frende, with whome oft she dyde daunce;
They coude not faile, thei thought, they were so sure;
And oftentymes I wolde myselfe auaunce
With them to make solace and pleasure;
But my dysporte they coude not well endure;
They sayde they hated for to dele with Drede.
Than Fauell gan wyth fayre speche me to fede.
FAUELL.
Noo thynge erthely that I wonder so sore
As of your connynge, that is so excellent;
Deynte to haue with vs suche one in store, 150
So vertuously that hath his dayes spente;
Fortune to you gyftes of grace hath lente:
Loo, what it is a man to haue connynge!
All erthly tresoure it is surmountynge.
Ye be an apte man, as ony can be founde,
To dwell with vs, and serue my ladyes grace;
Ye be to her yea worth a thousande pounde;
I herde her speke of you within shorte[270] space,
Whan there were dyuerse that sore dyde you manace;
And, though I say it, I was myselfe your frende, 160
For here be dyuerse to you that be vnkynde.
But this one thynge ye maye be sure of me;
For, by that Lorde that bought dere all mankynde,
I can not flater, I muste be playne to thé;
And ye nede ought, man, shewe to me your mynde,
For ye haue me whome faythfull ye shall fynde;
Whyles I haue ought, by God, thou shalt not lacke,
And yf nede be, a bolde worde I dare cracke.
Nay, naye, be sure, whyles I am on your syde,
Ye maye not fall, truste me, ye maye not fayle; 170
Ye stonde[271] in fauoure, and Fortune is your gyde,
And, as she wyll, so shall our grete shyppe sayle:
Thyse lewde cok wattes[272] shall neuermore preuayle
Ageynste you hardely, therfore be not afrayde:
Farewell tyll soone; but no worde that I sayde.
DREDE.
Than thanked I hym for his grete gentylnes:
But, as me thoughte, he ware on hym a cloke,
That lyned was with doubtfull doublenes;
Me thoughte, of wordes that he had full a poke;
His stomak stuffed ofte tymes dyde reboke: 180
Suspycyon, me thoughte, mette hym at a brayde,
And I drewe nere to herke what they two sayde.
In faythe, quod Suspecte, spake Drede no worde of me?
Why, what than? wylte thou lete men to speke?
He sayth, he can not well accorde with thé.
Twyst,[273] quod Suspecte, goo playe, hym I ne reke.
By Cryste, quod Fauell, Drede is soleyne freke:
What lete vs holde him vp, man, for a whyle?
Ye soo, quod Suspecte, he maye vs bothe begyle.
And whan he came walkynge soberly, 190
Wyth whom and ha, and with a croked loke,
Me thoughte, his hede was full of gelousy,
His eyen rollynge, his hondes faste they quoke;
And to me warde the strayte waye he toke:
God spede, broder![274] to me quod he than;
And thus to talke with me he began.
SUSPYCYON.
Ye remembre the gentylman ryghte nowe
That commaunde[275] with you, me thought, a party space?[276]
Beware of him, for, I make God auowe,
He wyll begyle you and speke fayre to your face: 200
Ye neuer dwelte in suche an other place,
For here is none that dare well other truste;
But I wolde telle you a thynge, and I durste.
Spake he a fayth no worde to you of me?
I wote, and he dyde, ye wolde me telle.
I haue a fauoure to you, wherof it be
That I muste shewe you moche[277] of my counselle:
But I wonder what the deuyll of helle
He sayde of me, whan he with you dyde talke:
By myne auyse[278] vse not with him to walke. 210
The soueraynst thynge that ony[279] man maye haue,
Is lytyll to saye, and moche[280] to here and see;
For, but I trusted you, so God me saue,
I wolde noo thynge so playne be;
To