A Ballad of Gentleness
The
firste
stock-father
of
gentleness,
What
man
desireth
gentle
for
to
be,
Must
follow
his
trace,
and
all
his
wittes
dress,
Virtue
to
love,
and
vices
for
to
flee;
For
unto
virtue
longeth
dignity,
And
not
the
reverse,
safely
dare
I
deem,
All
wear
he
mitre,
crown,
or
diademe.
This
firste
stock
was
full
of
righteousness,
True
of
his
word,
sober,
pious,
and
free,
Clean
of
his
ghost,
and
loved
business,
Against
the
vice
of
sloth,
in
honesty;
And,
but
his
heir
love
virtue
as
did
he,
He
is
not
gentle,
though
he
riche
seem,
All
wear
he
mitre,
crown,
or
diademe.
Vice
may
well
be
heir
to
old
richess,
But
there
may
no
man,
as
men
may
well
see,
Bequeath
his
heir
his
virtuous
nobless;
That
is
appropried
to
no
degree,
But
to
the
first
Father
in
majesty,
Which
makes
his
heire
him
that
doth
him
queme,
All
wear
he
mitre,
crown,
or
diademe.
