Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/173

Rh

Yes, but my bags with coin o’erflow;

And though I poverty pretend,

I make of no poor man a friend.

A hundred thousand times should I

Prefer our good king’s company.

Yea, by our Lady! though it happed

The poor man was with virtue capped

In fairest wise, for when I see

These beggars shiver wretchedly

On dunghills, hungry, cold, and bare,

What then?—’tis none of my affair.

Or if unto the Hotel-Dieu

They’re carried, what! should I pursue

Them thither? ne’er with one poor groat

They’ve fed my parched and hungry throat.

What can be got from one who licks

His knife, and sounds eats, dry as sticks?

That man an idiot may be said

Who fat seeks in a black dog’s bed.

To visit I should much prefer

Some sick but wealthy usurer:

With patience would I comfort him,

In hope some deniers to benimme,

And when pale death steals o’er his face,

Transport him to the burial-place.

Should some reproach me that I take

Heed to rich men and poor forsake,

How think you that I make reply?

I let a tear bedim mine eye,

And say: Alas! I greatly fear

From sin the rich are far less clear