The noble chivalry of the worthy and valiant William, formerly count of Flanders, once so lauded in France and throughout the isles of Britain, England, Germany, the whole Empire and kingdom, his mighty reputation scandal-free, with no base word of him ever heard or spoken: it is that, his chivalry, which drives and inspires me to write. He was so wise, so generous, so valiant, so courteous that he should rightly have been king – and so he would have been had Death not taken him, committed as he was to what Death hates and scorns.

And let me make it quite clear why I’ve chosen him in relation to my theme. Such is the way of this present time that no one makes much effort, truth to tell, to do anything but seek wealth. For anyone who amasses riches has the whole land right behind him! If he gets a hoard of gold together he’ll soon have a horde of friends! Ah, Wealth, once you’re well piled up, you bring friends flocking to you! Then again, you just as soon divide them, too: one minute, Wealth, you’re fondly acclaimed and have friends galore – oh, how you’re loved! – but there's no faith or love in you: all you cause is turmoil. People may fall in love with you, but in the end you turn all to confusion. Many know that to be true: Confusion's very home is Wealth! No sooner have people piled it up than they find they’re parted from it. Like it or not, they have to share it out: there's no holding on to wealth – all come baying in pursuit of it, praising its owner to the skies as if he were Hue who took the lady's veil, as the story tells.

But the one I speak of wasn't so acclaimed: rather he was mourned more than Sir Gawain ever was, for he died before Wealth had come to be held in prime esteem. And I’ve taken him in my story as a model of honour for all his line: they have the flower of all the world among their number, and should be aware of how refining is the renown of that good count, who wished to hear no word of his house being committed to anything but Largesse and Honour.