| 845 |
O sodeyn hap! O thou fortune unstable! |
| Lyk to the scorpion so deceyvable, |
| That flaterest with thyn heed whan thou wolt stynge; |
| Thy tayl is deeth, thurgh thyn envenymynge. |
| O brotil joye! o sweete venym queynte! |
| 850 | O monstre, that so subtilly kanst peynte |
| Thy yiftes under hewe of stidefastnesse, |
| That thou deceyvest bothe moore and lesse! |
| Why hastow Januarie thus deceyved, |
| That haddest hym for thy fulle freend receyved? |
| 855 | And now thou hast biraft hym bothe his ye, |
| For sorwe of which desireth he to dyen. |
|
| 845 | O sudden chance, O Fortune, thou unstable, |
| Like to the scorpion so deceptive, able |
| To flatter with thy mouth when thou wilt sting; |
| Thy tail is death, through thine envenoming. |
| O fragile joy! O poison sweetly taint! |
| 850 | O monster that so cleverly canst paint |
| Thy gifts in all the hues of steadfastness |
| That thou deceivest both the great and less! |
| Why hast thou January thus deceived, |
| That had'st him for thine own full friend received? |
| 855 | And now thou hast bereft him of his eyes, |
| For sorrow of which in love he daily dies. |
|
