Lenvoy de Chaucer a Scogan 261

Another one for the real Chaucer afficionados: letter from Chaucer to Scogan no. 261

Than shul we for our labour han no mede.  

But wel I wot thou wilt answere and seye:  

''Lo! olde Grisel Hst to ryme and pleye!"   

Nay, Scogan, sey not so, for I mexcuse,  

God helpe me so! in no rym, doutelees,  

Ne thinke I nevere of sleep to wake my muse,  

That rusteth in my shethe stille in pees.  

Whyl I was yong, I putte hir forth in prees,  

But al shal passe that men prose or ryme:  

Take every man his turn as for his tyme.   

Envoy   

Scogan, that knelest at the stremes heed   

Of grace, of alle honour and worthinesse.   

In thende of which streem I am dul as deed,   

Forgete in solitarie wildernesse:   

Yet Scogan, thenk on Tullius kindenesse;   

Minne thy frend ther it may fructifye!   

Far-wel, and loke thou nevere eft Lov^ defye!