120 |
If thou be povre, thy brother hateth thee, |
| And alle thy freendes fleen from thee; allas, |
| O riche marchauntz, ful of wele been yee! |
| O noble, o prudent folk, as in this cas! |
| Youre bagges been nat fild with ambes as, |
125 | But with sys cynk, that renneth for youre chaunce, |
| At Cristemasse myrie may ye daunce! |
|
120 | If thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee, |
| And all thy friends will flee from thee, alas!" |
| O wealthy merchants, full of weal ye be, |
| O noble, prudent folk in happier case! |
| Your dice-box doth not tumble out ambsace, |
125 | But with six-cinq ye throw against your chance; |
| And so, at Christmas, merrily may ye dance! |
|