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THE ROMANCE OF THE ROSE.
Full many I make peccavi cry,
Such mighty privilege have I.11870
The Author.
Hypocrisy rampant
False-Seeming here some rest would take,
But Love desires him not to break
His tale, the which he feigns to heed
With pleasure, and asks further rede.
The God of Love.
I pray thee that thou tell to me,
All shame aside, explicitly,
The varied games that thou hast played,
What tricks hast done, what mischief made.
Thy robe declares an anchorite.
False-Seeming.
That’s true, but I’m a hypocrite.11880
The God of Love.
Thou preachest holy abstinence.
False-Seeming.
Past doubt; but though I make pretence.
Good dishes love I, and bright wine,
As well as any grave divine.
Love.
Thou preachest poverty also.
