Juvenal saith of poverte merily

Juvenal saith of poverte merily: The poore man, whan he goth by the way, Beforn the theves he may sing and play. Poverte is hateful good; and, as I gesse, A ful gret bringer out of besinesse; A gret amender eke of sapience, To him that taketh it in patience. Poverte is this although it seme elenge, Possession that no wight wol challenge. Poverte ful often, whan a man is low, Maketh his God and eke himself to know: Poverte a spectakel is, as thinketh me, Thurgh which he may his veray frendes see. And therfore, sire, sin that I you not greve, Of my poverte no more me repreve.