|
Another seyde the fir was over-hoot, - |
| But, be it hoot or coold, I dar seye this, |
| That we concluden everemoore amys. |
| 405 | We faille of that which that we wolden have, |
| And in oure madnesse everemoore we rave. |
| And whan we been togidres everichoon, |
| Every man semeth a Salomon. |
| But al thyng which that shineth as the gold |
| 410 | Nis nat gold, as that I have herd it told; |
| Ne every appul that is fair at eye |
| Ne is nat good, what so men clappe or crye. |
| Right so, lo, fareth it amonges us: |
| He that semeth the wiseste, by Jhesus! |
| 415 | Is moost fool, whan it cometh to the preef; |
| And he that semeth trewest is the theef. |
| That shul ye knowe, er that I fro yow wende, |
| By that I of my tale have maad an ende. |
|
|
Another said the fire was far too hot. |
| But were it hot or cold, I dare say this, |
| That we concluded evermore amiss. |
| 405 | We fail of that which we desire to have, |
| And in our madness evermore we rave. |
| And when we're all together, then each one |
| Seems as he were a very Solomon. |
| But everything that glisters like fine gold |
| 410 | Is not gold, as I've often heard it told; |
| And every apple that is fair to eye |
| Is yet not sound, whatever hucksters cry; |
| And even so, that's how it fares with us: |
| For he that seems the wisest, by Jesus, |
| 415 | Is greatest fool, when proof is asked, in brief; |
| And he that seems the truest is a thief; |
| That shall you know ere I from you do wend, |
| When of my tale I've made at length an end. |
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