lf lacken courage,
They folk exciten by their wicked saws
For to rebell against me, and my laws!

But, maugre them that blamen women most,
Such is the force of mine impression
That, suddenly, I can fell all their boast,
And all their wrong imagination.
It shall not be in their election
The foulest slut in all the town to refuse;
If that me list, for all that they can muse:

But her in heart as brenningly desire
As though she were a Duchess, or a Queen;
So can I folkis heartis set on fire
And, as me list, them senden joy or teen.
They that to women ben ywhet so keen,
My sharpe piercing strokis, how they smite,
Shall feel and know, and how they kerve and bite!

Pardie! this Clerk, this subtle sly OVID
And many another have deceived be
Of women, as it knowen is full wide.
What! no men more! and that is great dainty
So excellent a Clerk as was he!
And other more, that coulde full well preach
Betrapped were, for aught that they could teach!

And trusteth well, that it is no marvail!
For women knowen plainly their intent.
They wist how softily they could assail
Them; and what falsehood they in hearte meant:
And thus they Clerkis in their danger hent,
_With one venom, another is destroyed!_
And thus these Clerkis often were annoyed.

These Ladies, ne these gentles ne'ertheless,
Where none of those that wroughten in this wise;
But such women as weren vertueless
They quittin thus these old Clerkis wise.
To Clerkis muchil less ought to suffice
Than to dispraven women generally;
For worship shall they geten noon thereby.

If that these men, that lovers them pretend,
To women weren faithful, good, and true,
And dread them to deceive, or to offend;
Women, to love them woulde not eschew.
But, every day hath man an harte new!
It upon one abiden can no while.
What force is it, such a wight to beguile?

Men bearen, eke, the women upon hand
That lightly, and withouten any pain
They wonnen be; they can no wight withstand
That his disease list to them to complain!
They be so frail, they may them not refrain!
But whoso liketh them may lightly have;
So be their heartis easy in to grave.

To Master JEAN DE MEUN, as I suppose,
Then, it is a lewd occupation,
In making of the _Romance of the Rose_,
So ma