ll
Of grete vertues that in hym shyneth
For to no vyces he neuer enclyneth
Hauynge in his hede a fayre crowne royall
That sheweth his dygnyte to be regall

Whiche to his people is the chefe glory
Thrugh whome his subgectes be dyrecte
And made obedyent to hym certaynly
At euery houre by ryght true effecte
But forthermore by good aspecte
He bereth a ball in his lefte hande
The whiche betokeneth as I vnderstande

A kynge to be a good admynystratour
Vnto his subgectes in euery place
And to be for theym a good prouysour
As reason requyreth in euery case
I Sapyence do rule his noble grace
In his ryght hand he hath a septure
That doth sygnyfye by ryght his rygoure

Yll men to punysshe for theyr offence
By his ryghtwysnes whome the loue
Of vertue shynynge in experyence
Doth not extoll nor yet now remoue
A lampe doth hange his heed aboue
Alway lyght and clerely brennynge
Whiche sygnyfyeth the mercy of a kynge

The olde philosophers by theyr prudence
Fonde the seuen scyences lyberall
And by theyr exercyse & grete dylygence
They made theyr dedes to be memoryall
And also poetes that were fatall
Craftely colored with clowdy fygures
The true sentence of all theyr scryptures

O Iustyce lady and souerayne goddesse
Gyue you true sentence now vpon me
As ye be surmountynge in vertue & noblesse
Lete me dame Sapyence haue the soueraynte
As is accordynge to my royall dygnyte
For I am moost profytable vnto man
And euer had ben syns the world began

Than sayd dame Fortune ye are imperfyte
Without that I therto be accordaunt
For all your hardynes & prudence perfyte
I vnto you must be well exuberaunt
And with your werkes euer concordaunt
Where that I fauer they haue good c[om]fort
In all theyr dedes by my swete resort

I Fortune am the rule and steere
Of euery persone lyke to my wyll
That in this worlde now lyueth here
Whan that I lyst for to fulfyll
My mynde ryght sone I can dystyll
The dewe of comfort welth and rychesse
To man exaltynge hym to noblenesse

Though that a man were neuer so hardy
Without me he myght not attayne
And though that a man were neuer so wytty
And I dyd my power from hym refrayne
All his labour were lost in vayne
So hardynesse and prudence in no wyse
Without good fortune may well suffyse

Though that a man were but a fole
Yf I consent that he be fortunate
He nedyth not to make no grete dole
For I shall mayntene so his estate
That he in rychesse shall be so eleuate
Fulfylled with welth