Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/34

6

To trap a rascal is no sin,

And well one does to snare him in

His proper net.

A caitiff-wretch

Is Evil-Tongue; although you stretch

Him till in half he falls, there still

A wretch remains, that style ne’er will

Be lost to him. No other name

Ought he to bear, for nought of shame

Hath he men’s good repute to steal,

Causing deep wounds no balm can heal.

Better were he on gibbet strung

Than half the wretched creatures hung

For filching dirty pence. The thieves

Who steal a farmer’s golden sheaves,

Or rob a clothes-line, being ta’en

Red hand, the law makes pay again

Four times the worth. But Evil-Tongue

So spreads his injuries among

All people, that, the harm once done,

A good name cannot back be won

From him to salve the wound, or stay

The poisonous flood for many a day.

One needs this miscreant to appease,

As men must sometimes, on their knees,

Touch with their lips a hand that well

Deserves the cleansing fires of hell.

Wherefore should not the wretch be sent

To Tarsus, where he might invent

Lies that no lovers need to fear?

’Twere well from off the earth to clear

So vile a scoundrel.