he prouffit that he
doth to vs/ and therfor saith the versifier thise two versis Tempore
felici multi murmerantur amici Cum fortuna perit nullus amicus erit/
whiche is to saye in English that as longe as a man is ewrous and
fortunat he hath many frendes but whan fortune torneth and perisshith,
ther abideth not to hym one frende/ And of this loue ben louyd the
medowes, feldes, Trees and the bestes for the prouffit that men take of
them/ But the loue of the men ought to be charyte, veray gracious and
pure by good fayth/ And the veray trewe frendes ben knowen in pure
aduersite/ and pers alphons saith in his book of moralite that ther was
a philosophre in arabye that had an onely sone/ of whom he demanded what
frendes he had goten hym in his lyf. And he answerd that he had many And
his fader sayd to hym/ I am an olde man/ And yet coude I neuer fynde but
one frende in alle my lyf/ And I trowe verily that it is no lytyll
thynge for to haue a frende/ and hit is well gretter and more a man to
haue many/ And hit appertayneth and behoueth a man to assaye and preue
his frende er he haue nede And than comanded the philosopher his sone/
that he shold goo and slee a swyne/ and putte hit in a sack/ and fayne
that hit were a man dede that he had slayn and bere hit to his frendes
for to burye hit secretly/ And whan the sone had don as his fader
comanded to hym and had requyred his frendes one after an other as a
fore is sayd/ They denyed hym/ And answerd to hym that he was a vylayne
to requyre & desire of them thynge that was so peryllous And than he cam
agayn to his fader and sayd to hym how he had requyred alle his frendes/
And that he had not founden one that wolde helpe hym in his nede And
than his fader said to hym that he shold goo and requyre his frende
whiche had but one/ and requyre hym that he shold helpe hym in his nede
And whan he had requyred hym/ Anone he put oute alle his mayne oute of
his hows/ And whan they were oute of the waye or a slepe he dide do make
secretly a pytte in the grounde/ And whan hyt was redy and wold haue
buryed the body/ he fonde hit an hogge or a swyne and not a man/ And
thus thys sone preuyd thys man to be a veray trewe frende of his fader/
And preuyd that his frendes were fals frendes of fortune/ And yet
reherceth the sayd piers Alphons/ That ther were two marchantes one of
Bandach and that other of Egipte whiche were so Joyned to gyder by so
grete frendshippe that he of Bandach cam on a tyme for to