And ful of gile and fell corage
By femblaunt was that ilke image,
And she was nothing wele araide,
But like a wode woman afraide;
Yfrouncid foule was her vifage,
And grinning for difpitous rage;
Her nofe yfnortid up for tene,
Ful hidous was the for to fene;
Ful foule and rufty was the this;
Her hed iwrithin was iwis
Ful grimly with a grete towaile.
An image of anothre' entaile
A lifte halfe was her faft yby;
Her name above her hed fawe I,
And the was callid Felony.

Anothre' image, that Villany
Yclepid was, fawe I and fonde
Upon the wall on her right honde :
This Villany was like fomdele

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That othre' image, and truftith wele

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She femid a wickid creture;

By countenaunce in portreiture

She femid be ful difpitous,

And eke ful proude and outragious.

Wel coude he paint, I undertake, That fuch an image coude imake; Ful foule and chorlich femid fhe, And eke villeinous for to be,

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And litil could of noriture

To worshippe any creature.

And nexte was paintid Covetife,

That eggith folke in many' a gife

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To take and yeve right nought again,
And grete trefouris up to laine.

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And that is fhe that for ufure
Lenith to many a creture
The laffe for the more winning,
So covitous is her brenning!
And that is the for pennis fele
That techith for to robbe and ftele
Thefe thevis and thefe fmale harlotes,

And that' is routhe, for by ther throtes
Ful many one hongith at last;

She makith folke compaffe and caft
To takin othir folkis thing
Through robbery' or miscoveting;
And that is fhe that makith trechours,
And fhe that makith falfe pledours,
That with ther termis and ther domes
Do maidins, childrin, and eke gromes,
Ther heritage, alas! forgo:

Ful crokid were her hondis two,

For Covetife is evir wode

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To gripin othir folkis gode:

For Covetife for her winning

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Ful lefe hath othir mennis thing

Another image set saugh I

Nexte unto Covetise fast by,

And she was clepid Avarice:

Ful foule in painting was that vice,
Ful fad and caitife was she eke,
And also grene as any leke;

So evill hewed was her coloure

Her femed to' have livid in langoure;
She was like thing for hungir ded,
That lad her life onely by bred
Knedin with eifel strong and egre,
And therto she was lene and megre;
And she was clad ful povirly
Al in an oldè torne courtpye
As fhe were all with doggis torne,
And bothe behinde and eke beforne
Ycloutid was the beggirly.

A mantil honge her fastè by
Upon a benche both weke and smale;
A burnette cote honge there withal,

Yfurrid with no menivere,

But with a furrè rough of here

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And if it were forwerid fhe

Would havin full gret nicete

Of clothing er fhe bought her newe,

Al were it bad of wol and hewe.

This Avarice helde in her hande
A purfe which that honge by a bande,
And that the hid and bonde so stronge
Men must abidin wondir longe
Out of the purfe er there come ought,
For that ne comith in her thought:
It was not certaine her entent
That fro that purse a peny went.

And by that image nigh inough

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Was paintid Envy, that nere lough,
Nor nevir wel in her hert ferde

But if fhe either fawe or herde

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Some grete mifchaunce or grete difefe:

Nothing ne may so much her plese
As mifchefe and mifaventure;
Or whan fhe feeth discomfiture

Upon any worthy man fall,

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Than likith her right well withall:

She is full glad in her corage

Yf the fe any grete linage

Be brought to naught in fhamful wife;
And if a man in honour rife

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Or by his wit or his proweffe,
Of that fhe hath gret heyineffe,

I trowe that if Envy i-wis

Yknew the bestě man that is
On this fide or beyonde the fe
Yet fomwhat lackin him wold fhe;
And if he were so hende and wife
That fhe ne might abate his prife,
Yet would fhe blame his worthineffe,
Or by her wordis make it leffe.
I fawe Envy in that painting
Yhad a wondirful loking,

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