Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/152

124

When Venus doth a bargain make,

For, whatsoever care he take,

A man may never get what’s sold.

Yet lose past all return his gold,

For tightly may the vendor keep

The wares, and then no price were cheap,

Nay, e’en though all he had one set

Thereon, he might no guerdon get;

Whate’er he did, whate’er he said,

It nowise could be hindered,

But what the very first who can

(Roman, Breton, or Englishman)

Open the purse more widely may,

The thing you paid for bear away,

Or e’en obtain it as a gift,

If he but knows his voice to lift

In flattering words. Account ye wise

Merchants who deal in suchlike guise?

Nay, but mere fools and caitiffs they.

Who bargains make in such a way

That for their outlay nought remain

Of pleasure, benefit, or gain,

Whate’er the cost.

’Tis true that she

Who gave me birth not usually

Dispenseth gold, for hath she more

Of wit than thus to waste her store,

But know ye well, that man shall yet

Pay her, who doth his gold regret,

When Poverty in dire distress

Doth hold him, though of Dame Richesse

Fast friend were he, who, when I will,

Loseth her power to work me ill.