For whan anthonie emperour of rome sawe that he was right riche of gold and siluer/ he had hym in grete hate and tormentid hym right cruelly And whan he shold perishe be cause of his richessis/ he toke alle his hauoyr and put hit in a shippe And wente wyth alle in to the hye see to thende for to drowne and perishe there the shippe and his rychesses be cause Anthonie his enemye shold not haue hit/ And whan he was there he durst not perisshe hit ner myght not fynde in his herte to departe from hit/ but cam and brought hit agayn in to his hows where he resseyuyd the reward of deth therfore.  And wyth oute doubte he was not lord of the richesse but the richesse was lady ouer hym/ And therfore hit is sayd in prouerbe that a man ought to seignorye ouer the riches/ and not for to serue hit/ and yf thou canst dewly vse thy rychesse than she is thy chamberyer/ And yf thou can not departe from hit and vse hit honestly at thy playsir/ knowe verily y’t she is thy lady For the richesse neuer satisfieth the couetouse/ but the more he hath/ the more he desireth/ And saluste sayth that auarice distourblith fayth poeste honeste and alle these other good vertues/ And taketh for these vertues pryde. cruelte.  And to forgete god/ And saith that alle thynges be vendable And after this they ought to be ware that they leue not to moche/ ner make so grete creances by which they may falle in pouerte/ For saynt Ambrose saith upon tobye. pouerte hath no lawe/ for to owe hit is a shame/ & to owe and not paye is a more shame/ yf y’u be poure beware how thou borowest/ and thinke how thou maist paye & rendre agayn yf y’u be ryche y’u hast none nede to borowe & axe/ & it is said in the prouerbes y’t hit is fraude to take/ that y’u wilt not ner maist rendre & paye agayn/ and also hit is said in reproche/ whan I leue I am thy frend/ & whan I axe I am thy enemye/ as wo saith/ god at the lenynge/ & the deuyll at rendrynge/ And seneque sayth in his au[c]torites/ that they y’t gladly borowe/ ought gladly to paye/ and ought to surmonte in corage to loue hem the better be cause they leue hem & ayde hem in her nede/ For for benefetes & good tornes doon to a man ought to gyue hym thankinges therfore/ And moche more ought a man to repaye that Is lente hym in his nede/ But now in these dayes many men by lenynge of their money haue made of their frendes enemyes/ And herof speketh Domas the philosopher and sayth that my frende borowed money of me/ And I haue lost my frende and my money attones/ Ther was a marchant of Gene & also a chaungeour/ whos name was Albert gauor/ And this albert was a man of grete trouth and loyaulte/ for on a tyme ther was a man cam to hym and said & affermed that he had delyueryd in to his banke .v. honderd floryns of gold to kepe whiche was not trouth for he lyed/ whyche fyue honderd floryns the said Albert knewe not of/ ner coude fynde in all hys bookes ony suche money to hym due And this lyar coude not brynge no wytnessis/ but began to braye. crye and deffame the said albert