PIERS PLOUGHMAN.

In a somer seson, 1

Whan softe was the sonne,

I shoop me into shroudes

As I a sheep weere,

In habite as an heremite

Unholy of werkes,

Wente wide in this world

Wondres to here;

Ac on a May morwenynge

On Malverne hilles 10

Me bifel a ferly,

Of fairye me thoghte.

I was wery for-wandred,

And wente me to reste

Under a brood bank

By a bournes syde;

And as I lay and lenede,

And loked on the watres,

I slombred into a slepyng,

It sweyed so murye. 20

{2}

Thanne gan I meten

A merveillous swevene,

That I was in a wildernesse,

Wiste I nevere where,

And as I biheeld into the eest

An heigh to the sonne,

I seigh a tour on a toft

Trieliche y-maked,

A deep dale bynethe,

A dongeon therinne, 30

With depe diches and derke

And dredfulle of sighte.

A fair feeld ful of folk

Fond I ther bitwene,

Of alle manere of men,

The meene and the riche,

Werchynge and wandrynge,

As the world asketh.

Some putten hem to the plough,

Pleiden ful selde, 40

In settynge and sowynge

Swonken ful harde,

And wonnen that wastours

With glotonye destruyeth.

And somme putten hem to pride,

Apparailed hem therafter,

In contenaunce of clothynge

Comen degised.

In preires and penaunces

Putten hem manye, 50

Al for the love of oure Lord

Lyveden ful streyte,

In hope to have after

Hevene riche blisse;

{3}

As ancres and heremites

That holden hem in hire selles,

And coveiten noght in contree

To carien aboute,

For no likerous liflode

Hire likame to plese. 60

And somme chosen chaffare;

Thei cheveden the bettre,

As it semeth to our sight

That swiche men thryveth.

And somme murthes to make,

As mynstralles konne,

And geten gold with hire glee,

Giltles, I leeve.

Ac japeres and jangeleres,

Judas children, 70

Feynen hem fantasies,

And fooles hem maketh,

And han hire wit at wille

To werken, if thei wolde.

That Poul precheth of hem

I wol nat preve it here;

But _Qui loquitur turpiloquium_

Is Luciferes hyne.

Bidderes and beggeres

Faste aboute yede, 80

With hire belies and hire bagges

Of breed ful y-crammed;

Faiteden for hire foode,

Foughten at the ale.

In glotonye, God woot,

Go thei to bedde,

And risen with ribaudie,

Tho Roberdes knaves;

{4}

Sleep and sory sleuthe

Seweth hem evere. 90

Pilgrymes and palmeres

Plighten hem togidere,

For to seken seint Jame,

And seintes at Rome.

They wenten forth in hire wey,

With many wise tales,

And hadden leve to lyen

Al hire lif after.

I seigh somme that seiden

Thei hadde y-sought seintes; 100

To ech a tale that thei tolde

Hire tonge was tempred to lye,

Moore than to seye sooth,

It semed bi hire speche.

Heremytes on an heep

With hoked staves

Wenten to Walsyngham,

And hire wenches after,

Grete lobies and longe

That lothe were to swynke; 110

Clothed hem in copes,

To ben knowen from othere;

And shopen hem heremytes,

Hire ese to have.

I fond there freres,

Alle the foure ordres,

Prechynge the peple

For profit of hemselve;

Glosed the gospel,

As hem good liked; 120

For coveitise of copes,

Construwed it as thei wolde.

{5}

Many of thise maistre freres

Now clothen hem at likyng,

For hire moneie and hire marchaundize

Marchen togideres.

For sith charité hath ben chapman,

And chief to shryve lordes,

Manye ferlies han fallen

In a fewe yeres; 130

But holy chirche and hii

Holde bettre togidres,

The mooste meschief on molde

Is mountynge wel faste.

Ther preched a pardoner,

As he a preest were;

Broughte forth a bulle

With many bisshopes seles,

And seide that hymself myghte

Assoillen hem alle, 140

Of falshede, of fastynge,

Of avowes y-broken.

Lewed men leved it wel,

And liked hise wordes;

Comen up knelynge

To kissen hise bulles.

He bouched hem with his brevet,

And blered hire eighen,

And raughte with his rageman

Rynges and broches. 150

Thus thei gyven hire gold

Glotons to kepe,

And leveth in swiche losels

As leccherie haunten.

Were the bisshope y-blessed,

And worth bothe hise eris,

{6}

His seel sholde noght be sent

To deceyve the peple.

Ac it is noght by the bisshope

That the boy precheth; 160

For the parisshe preest and the pardoner

Parten the silver,

That the poraille of the parisshe

Sholde have, if thei ne were.

Parsons and parisshe preestes

Pleyned hem to the bisshope,

That hire parisshes weren povere

Sith the pestilence tyme,

To have a licence and leve

At London to dwelle, 170

And syngen ther for symonie;

For silver is swete.

Bisshopes and bachelers,

Bothe maistres and doctours,

That han cure under Crist,

And crownynge in tokene

And signe that thei sholden

Shryven hire parisshens,

Prechen and praye for hem,

And the povere fede, 180

Liggen at Londone

In Lenten and ellis.

Somme serven the kyng,

And his silver tellen

In cheker and in chauncelrie,

Chalangen hise dettes

Of wardes and of wardemotes,

Weyves and streyves.

And somme serven as servauntz

Lordes and ladies, 190

{7}

And in stede of stywardes

Sitten and demen;

Hire messe and hire matyns

And many of hire houres

Arn doon un-devoutliche;

Drede is at the laste,

Lest Crist in consistorie

A-corse ful manye.

I perceyved of the power

That Peter hadde to kepe, 200

To bynden and unbynden,

As the book telleth;

How he it lefte with love,

As oure Lord highte,

Amonges foure vertues,

The beste of alle vertues,

That cardinals ben called,

And closynge yates.

There is Crist in his kingdom

To close and to shette, 210

And to opene it to hem,

And hevene blisse shewe.

Ac of the cardinals at court

That kaughte of that name,

And power presumed in hem

A pope to make,

To han that power that Peter hadde,

Impugnen I nelle;

For in love and in lettrure

The election bilongeth, 220

For-thi I kan and kan naught

Of court speke moore.

Thanne kam ther a kyng,

Knyghthod hym ladde,

{8}

Might of the communes

Made hym to regne.

And thanne cam kynde wit,

And clerkes he made,

For to counseillen the kyng,

And the commune save. 230

The kyng and knyghthod,

And clergie bothe,

Casten that the commune

Sholde hemself fynde.

The commune contreved

Of kynde wit craftes,

And for profit of al the peple

Plowmen ordeyned,

To tilie and to travaille,

As trewe lif asketh. 240

The kyng and the commune,

And kynde wit the thridde,

Shopen lawe and leauté,

Ech man to knowe his owene.

Thanne loked up a lunatik,

A leene thyng with-alle,

And, knelynge to the kyng,

Clergially he seide:

"Crist kepe thee, sire kyng!

And thi kyng-ryche, 250

And lene thee lede thi lond,

So leauté thee lovye,

And for thi rightful rulyng

Be rewarded in hevene."

And sithen in the eyr an heigh

An aungel of hevene

Lowed to speke in Latyn,

For lewed men ne koude

{9}

Jangle ne jugge,

That justifie hem sholde, 260

But suffren and serven;

For-thi seide the aungel:

_Sum rex, sum princeps,

Neutrum fortasse deinceps;

O qui jura regis

Christi specialia regis,

Hoc quod agas melius,

Justus es, esto pius.

Nudum jus a te

Vestiri vult pietate; 270

Qualia vis metere,

Talia grana sere.

Si jus nudatur,

Nudo de jure metatur;

Si seritur pietas,

De pietate metas._

Thanne greved hym a goliardeis,

A gloton of wordes,

And to the aungel an heigh

Answerde after: 280

_Dum rex a regere

Dicatur nomen habere;

Nomen habet sine re,

Nisi studet jura tenere._

Thanne gan al the commune

Crye in vers of Latyn,

To the kynges counseil;

Construe who so wolde:

_Præcepta regis

Sunt nobis vincula legis._ 290

With that ran ther a route

Of ratons at ones,

{10}

And smale mees myd hem

Mo than a thousand,

And comen to a counseil

For the commune profit;

For a cat of a contree

Cam whan hym liked,

And overleep hem lightliche,

And laughte hem at his wille, 300

And pleide with hem perillousli,

And possed aboute.

"For doute of diverse dredes,

We dar noght wel loke;

And if we grucche of his gamen,

He wol greven us alle,

Cracchen us or clawen us,

And in hise clouches holde,

That us lotheth the lif

Er he late us passe. 310

Mighte we with any wit

His wille withstonde,

We mighte be lordes o-lofte,

And lyven at oure ese."

A raton of renoun,

Moost renable of tonge,

Seide for a sovereyn

Help to hymselve:

"I have y-seyen segges," quod he

"In the cité of Londone, 320

Beren beighes ful brighte

Abouten hire nekkes,

And somme colers of crafty werk;

Uncoupled thei wenten

Bothe in wareyne and in waast

Where hemself liked.

{11}

And outher while thei arn ellis-where,

As I here telle;

Were ther a belle on hire beighe,

By Jhesu, as me thynketh, 330

Men myghte witen wher thei wente,

And awey renne!"

"And right so," quod that raton,

"Reson me sheweth,

To bugge a belle of bras,

Or of bright silver,

And knytten it on a coler

For oure commune profit,

Wher he ryt or rest,

Or renneth to pleye; 340

And if hym list for to laike,

Thanne loke we mowen,

And peeren in his presence

The while him pleye liketh:

And, if hym wratheth, be war,

And his way shonye."

Al this route of ratons

To this reson thei assented.

Ac tho the belle was y-brought,

And on the beighe hanged, 350

Ther ne was raton in al the route,

For al the reaume of Fraunce,

That dorste have bounden the belle

About the cattes nekke,

Ne hangen it aboute the cattes hals,

Al Engelond to wynne.

Alle helden hem un-hardy,

And hir counseil feble;

And leten hire labour lost

And al hire longe studie. 360

{12}

A mous that muche good

Kouthe, as me thoughte,

Strook forth sternely,

And stood bifore hem alle,

And to the route of ratons

Reherced thise wordes:

"Though we killen the cat,

Yet sholde ther come another

To cacchen us and al oure kynde,

Though we cropen under benches. 370

For-thi I counseille al the commune

To late the cat worthe;

And be we nevere bolde

The belle hym to shewe;

For I herde my sire seyn,

Is seven yeer y-passed,

Ther the cat is a kitone

The court is ful elenge;

That witnesseth holy writ,

Who so wole it rede: 380

_Væ terræ ubi puer rex est! etc._

For may no renk ther reste have

For ratons by nyghte;

The while he caccheth conynges,

He coveiteth noght youre caroyne,

But fedeth hym al with venyson:

Defame we hym nevere.

For better is a litel los

Than a long sorwe,

The maze among us alle, 390

Theigh we mysse a sherewe;

For many mennes malt

We mees wolde destruye,

And also ye route of ratons

{13}

Rende mennes clothes,

Nere the cat of that court

That can yow over-lepe;

For hadde ye rattes youre wille,

Ye kouthe noght rule yow selve."

"I seye for me," quod the mous, 400

"I se so muchel after,

Shal nevere the cat ne the kiton

By my counseil be greved,

Thorugh carpynge of this coler

That costed me nevere

And though it hadde costned me catel,

Bi-knowen it I nolde,

But suffren, as hymself wolde,

To doon as hym liketh,

Coupled and uncoupled 410

To cacche what thei mowe.

For-thi ech a wis wight I warne,

Wite wel his owene."

What this metels by-meneth,

Ye men that ben murye

Devyne ye, for I ne dar,

By deere God in hevene.

Yet hoved ther an hundred

In howves of selk,

Sergeantz it bi-semed 420

That serveden at the barre,

Pleteden for penyes

And poundes the lawe;

And noght for love of our Lord

Unclose hire lippes ones.

Thow myghtest bettre meete myst

On Malverne hilles,

Than gete a mom of hire mouth,

{14}

Til moneie be shewed.

Barons and burgeises, 430

And bonde-men als,

I seigh in this assemblee,

As ye shul here after:

Baksteres and brewesteres,

And bochiers manye;

Wollen webbesters,

And weveres of lynnen,

Taillours and tynkers,

And tollers in markettes,

Masons and mynours, 440

And many othere craftes.

Of alle kynne lybbynge laborers

Lopen forth somme,

As dikeres and delveres,

That doon hire dedes ille,

And dryveth forth the longe day

With _Dieu save dame Emme_.

Cokes and hire knaves

Cryden, "Hote pies, hote!

Goode gees and grys! 450

Gowe, dyne, gowe!"

Taverners until hem

Trewely tolden the same,

Whit wyn of Oseye,

And reed wyn of Gascoigne,

Of the Ryn and of the Rochel,

The roost to defie.

[Al this I saugh slepynge,

And seve sithes more.] 459

* * * * *

{15}

_Passus Primus de Visione._

What this mountaigne by-meneth 460

And the merke dale,

And the feld ful of folk,

I shal yow faire shewe.

A lovely lady of leere,

In lynnen y-clothed,

Cam doun from a castel

And called me faire,

And seide, "Sone, slepestow?

Sestow this peple,

How bisie thei ben 470

Alle aboute the maze?

The mooste partie of this peple

That passeth on this erthe,

Have thei worship in this world,

Thei wilne no bettre;

Of oother hevene than here

Holde thei no tale."

I was a-fered of hire face,

Theigh she fair weere,

And seide, "Mercy, madame, 480

What is this to meene?"

"The tour on the toft," quod she,

"Truthe is therinne;

{16}

And wolde that ye wroughte,

As his word techeth!

For he is fader of feith,

And formed yow alle

Bothe with fel and with face,

And yaf yow fyve wittes,

For to worshipe hym therwith, 490

While that ye ben here.

And therfore he highte the erthe

To helpe yow echone,

Of wollene, of lynnen,

Of liflode at nede,

In mesurable manere

To make yow at ese;

And comaunded of his curteisie

In commune three thynges,

Are none nedfulle but tho, 500

And nempne hem I thynke,

And rekene hem by reson;

Reherce thow hem after.

"That oon vesture,

From cold thee to save;

And mete at meel

For mysese of thiselve;

And drynke whan thow driest;

Ac do noght out of reson,

That thow worthe the wers 510

Whan thow werche sholdest.

"For Lot in hise lif-dayes,

For likynge of drynke,

Dide by hise doughtres

That the devel liked,

Delited hym in drynke

As the devel wolde,

{17}

And leccherie hym laughte,

And lay by hem bothe,

And al he witte it the wyn 520

That wikked dede.

_Inebriamus eum vino, dormiamusque

cum eo, ut servare possimus de

patre nostro semen._

Thorugh wyn and thorugh wommen

Ther was Loth acombred,

And there gat in glotonie

Gerles that were cherles.

"For-thi dred delitable drynke,

And thow shalt do the bettre. 530

Mesure is medicine,

Though thow muchel yerne.

It is nought al good to the goost

That the gut asketh,

Ne liflode to thi likame;

For a liere hym techeth,

That is the wrecched world

Wolde thee bitraye.

For the fend and thi flesshe

Folwen togidere. 540

This and that seeth thi soule,

And seith it in thin herte;

And for thow sholdest ben y-war,

I wisse thee the beste."

"Madame, mercy!" quod I,

"Me liketh wel youre wordes;

Ac the moneie of this molde

That men so faste holdeth,

Tel me to whom, madame,

That tresour appendeth." 550

"Go to the gospel," quod she,

{18}

"That God seide hymselven;

Tho the poeple hym apposede

With a peny in the temple,

Wheither thei sholde therwith

Worshipe the kyng Cesar.

"And God asked of hym,

Of whom spak the lettre,

And the ymage was lik

That therinne stondeth. 560

"'Cesares,' thei seiden,

'We seen it wel echone.'

"'_Reddite Cæsari_,' quod God,

'That _Cæsari_ bifalleth,

_Et quæ sunt Dei Deo_,'

Or ellis ye don ille;

For rightfully reson

Sholde rule yow alle,

And kynde wit be wardeyn

Youre welthe to kepe, 570

And tutour of youre tresor,

And take it yow at nede,

For housbondrie and hii

Holden togidres."

Thanne I frayned hire faire,

For hym that me made,

"That dongeon in the dale,

That dredful is of sighte,

What may it be to meene,

Madame, I yow biseche?" 580

"That is the castel of Care;

Who so comth therinne

May banne that he born was,

To bodi or to soule.

Therinne wonyeth a wight

{19}

That Wrong is y-hote,

Fader of falshede,

And founded it hymselve.

Adam and Eve

He egged to ille; 590

Counseilled Kaym

To killen his brother;

Judas he japed

With Jewen silver,

And sithen on an eller

Hanged hymselve.

He is lettere of love,

And lieth hem alle

That trusten on his tresour;

Bitrayeth he hem sonnest." 600

Thanne hadde I wonder in my wit

What womman it weere,

That swiche wise wordes

Of holy writ shewed;

And asked hire on the heighe name,

Er she thennes yede,

What she were witterly

That wissed me so faire.

"Holi chirche I am," quod she,

"Thow oughtest me to knowe; 610

I underfeng thee first,

And the feith taughte;

And broughtest me borwes

My biddyng to fulfille,

And to loven me leelly

The while thi lif dureth."

Thanne I courbed on my knees,

And cried hire of grace;

And preide hire pitously

{20}

Preye for my sinnes, 620

And also kenne me kyndely

On Crist to bi-leve,

That I myghte werchen his wille

That wroghte me to man.

"Teche me to no tresor,

But tel me this ilke,

How I may save my soule,

That seint art y-holden."

"Whan alle tresors arn tried," quod she,

"Treuthe is the beste; 630

I do it on _Deus caritas_,

To deme the sothe,

It is as dereworthe a drury

As deere God hymselven.

"Who is trewe of his tonge,

And telleth noon oother,

And dooth the werkes therwith,

And wilneth no man ille,

He is a God by the gospel

A-grounde and o-lofte, 640

And y-lik to oure Lord,

By seint Lukes wordes.

The clerkes that knowen this,

Sholde kennen it aboute,

For cristen and un-cristen

Cleymeth it echone.

"Kynges and knyghtes

Sholde kepen it by reson,

Riden and rappen doun

In reaumes aboute, 650

And taken _transgressores_,

And tyen hem faste,

Til treuthe hadde y-termyned

{21}

Hire trespas to the ende.

And that is profession apertli

That apendeth to knyghtes;

And naught to fasten o friday

In fyve score wynter,

But holden with hym and with here

That wolden alle truthe, 660

And nevere leve hem for love

Ne for lacchynge of silver.

For David in hise dayes

Dubbed knyghtes,

And dide hem sweren on hir swerdes

To serven truthe evere;

And who so passed that point

Was apostata in the ordre.

"But Crist kyngene kyng

Knyghted ten, 670

Cherubyn and seraphyn,

Swiche sevene and othere

And yaf hem myght in his majestee,

The murier hem thoughte,

And over his meene meynee

Made hem archangeles;

Taughte hem by the Trinitee

Treuthe to knowe;

To be buxom at his biddyng,

He bad hem nought ellis. 680

"Lucifer with legions

Lerned it in hevene;

But for he brak buxomnesse

His blisse gan he tyne,

And fel fro that felawshipe

In a fendes liknesse,

Into a deep derk helle,

{22}

To dwelle there for evere;

And mo thousandes myd hym

Than man kouthe nombre 690

Lopen out with Lucifer

In lothliche forme,

For thei leveden upon hym

That lyed in this manere:

_Ponam pedem in aquilone, et similis ero altissimo._ =

"And alle that hoped it myghte be so,

Noon hevene myghte hem holde,

But fellen out in fendes liknesse

Nyne dayes togideres, 700

Til God of his goodnesse

Gan stablisse and stynte,

And garte the hevene to stekie

And stonden in quiete.

"Whan thise wikkede wenten out,

In wonder wise thei fellen;

Somme in the eyr, somme in erthe,

And somme in helle depe;

Ac Lucifer lowest lith

Yet of hem alle, 710

For pride that he putte out,

His peyne hath noon ende.

And alle that werchen with wrong,

Wende thei shulle,

After hir deth day

And dwelle with that sherewe.

"And tho that werche wel,

As holy writ telleth,

And enden as I er seide

In truthe, that is the beste, 720

Mowe be siker that hire soules

{23}

Shul wende to hevene,

Ther treuthe is in trinitee,

And troneth hem alle.

For-thi I seye, as I seyde er,

By sighte of thise textes,

Whan alle tresors arn tried,

Truthe is the beste;

Lereth it thise lewed men,

For lettred men it knoweth, 730

That treuthe is tresor

The trieste on erthe."

"Yet have I no kynde knowyng." quod I,

"Ye mote kenne me bettre,

By what craft in my cors

It comseth, and where."

"Thow doted daffe," quod she,

"Dulle are thi wittes;

To litel Latyn thow lernedest,

Leode, in thi youthe." 740

_Heu michi! quia sterilem duxi vitam juvenilem._ =

"It is a kynde knowyng," quod she,

"That kenneth in thyn herte,

For to loven thi Lord

Levere than thiselve,

No dedly synne to do,

Deye theigh thow sholdest;

This I trowe be truthe.

Who kan teche thee bettre, 750

Loke thow suffre hym to seye,

And sithen lere it after;

For truthe telleth that love

Is triacle of hevene.

May no synne be on hym seene,

{24}

That useth that spice,

And alle hise werkes be wroughte

With love as hym liste;

And lered it Moyses for the leveste thyng,

And moost lik to hevene, 760

And al so the plentee of pees

Moost precious of vertues;

For hevene myghte nat holden it,

It was so hevy of hymself,

Til it hadde of the erthe

Eten his fille.

"And whan it hadde of this fold

Flesshe and blood taken,

Was nevere leef upon lynde

Lighter therafter, 770

And portatif and persaunt

As the point of a nedle,

That myghte noon armure it lette,

Ne none heighe walles.

"For-thi is love ledere

Of the Lordes folk of hevene,

And a meene, as the mair is

Bitwene the kyng and the commune;

Right so is love a ledere,

And the law shapeth, 780

Upon man for hise mysdedes

The mercyment he taxeth.

And for to knowen it kyndely

It comseth by myght,

And in the herte there is the heed

And the heighe welle;

For in kynde knowynge in herte,

Ther a myght bigynneth;

And that falleth to the fader

{25}

That formed us alle, 790

Loked on us with love,

And leet his sone dye

Mekely for oure mysdedes,

To amenden us alle.

And yet wolde he hem no wo

That wroughte hym that peyne,

But mekely with mouthe

Mercy bisoughte,

To have pité of that peple

That peyned hym to dethe. 800

"There myghtow sen ensample

In hymself oone,

That he was myghtful and meke,

And mercy gan graunte

To hem that hengen hym on heigh

And his herte thirled.

"For-thi I rede yow, riche,

Haveth ruthe of the povere;

Though ye be myghtful to mote,

Beeth meke in youre werkes, 810

For the same mesures that ye mete,

Amys outher ellis,

Ye shulle ben weyen therwith

Whan ye wenden hennes.

_Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis, remetietur vobis._ =

"For though ye be trewe of youre tonge

And treweliche wynne,

And as chaste as a child

That in chirche wepeth, 820

But if ye loven leelly

And lene the povere,

Swich good as God yow sent

{26}

Goodliche parteth,

Ye ne have namoore merite

In masse nor in houres,

Than Malkyn of hire maydenhede

That no man desireth.

"For James the gentile

Jugged in hise bokes, 830

That feith withouten the feet

Is right no thyng worthi,

And as deed as a dore-tree,

But if the dedes folwe.

_Fides sine operibus mortua est, etc._

"For-thi chastité withouten charité

Worth cheyned in helle;

It is as lewed as a lampe

That no light is inne.

Manye chapeleyns arn chaste, 840

Ac charité is aweye;

Are no men avarouser than hii

Whan thei ben avaunced,

Unkynde to hire kyn,

And to alle cristene

Chewen hire charité,

And chiden after moore;

Swiche chastité withouten charité

Worth cheyned in helle.

"Manye curatours kepen hem 850

Clene of hire bodies;

Thei ben acombred with coveitise,

Thei konne noght doon it from hem,

So harde hath avarice

Y-hasped hem togideres;

And that is no truthe of the Trinité,

But tricherie of helle,

{27}

And lernynge to lewed men

The latter for to deele.

For-thi thise wordes 860

Ben writen in the gospel,

_Date, et dabitur vobis_,

For I deele yow alle,

And that is the lok of love,

And leteth out my grace,

To conforten the carefulle

A-combred with synne.

"Love is leche of lif,

And next oure Lord selve,

And also the graithe gate 870

That goth into hevene;

For-thi I seye, as I seide

Er by the textes,

Whan alle tresors ben tried,

Treuthe is the beste.

"Now have I told thee what truthe is,

That no tresor is bettre;

I may no lenger lenge thee with,

Now loke thee oure Lorde." 879

* * * * *

{28}

_Passus Secundus de Visione, ut supra._

Yet I courbed on my knees, 880

And cried hire of grace,

And seide, "Mercy, madame,

For Marie love of hevene,

That bar that blisful barn

That boughte us on the rode,

Kenne me by som craft

To knowe the false."

"Loke up on thi left half,

And lo where he stondeth!

Bothe Fals and Favel, 890

And hire feeres manye."

I loked on my left half,

As the lady me taughte,

And was war of a womman

Worthiliche y-clothed,

Purfiled with pelure

The fyneste upon erthe,

Y-corouned with a coroune,

The kyng hath noon bettre;

Fetisliche hire fyngres 900

Were fretted with gold wyr,

And theron rede rubies

As rede as any gleede,

{29}

And diamaundes of derrest pris,

And double manere saphires,

Orientals and ewages,

Envenymes to destroye.

Hire robe was ful riche,

Of reed scarlet engreyned,

With ribanes of reed gold 910

And of riche stones.

Hire array me ravysshed,

Swich richesse saugh I nevere;

I hadde wonder what she was,

And whos wif she were.

"What is this womman," quod I,

"So worthili atired?"

"That is Mede the mayde," quod she,

"Hath noyed me ful ofte,

And y-lakked my lemman 920

That Leautee is hoten,

And bi-lowen hire to lordes

That lawes han to kepe.

"In the popes paleis

She is pryvee as myselve;

But soothnesse wolde noght so,

For she is a bastarde;

For fals was hire fader

That hath a fikel tonge,

And nevere sooth seide 930

Sithen he com to erthe;

And Mede is manered after hym,

Right as kynde asketh

_Qualis pater talis filius.

Bonus arbor bonum fructum facit._

"I oughte ben hyere than she,

I kam of a bettre;

{30}

My fader the grete God is

And ground of alle graces,

So God withouten gynnyng, 940

And I his goode doughter,

And hath yeven me mercy

To marie with myselve,

And what man be merciful

And leelly me love,

Shal be my lord and I his leef

In the heighe hevene.

"And what man taketh Mede,

Myn heed dar I legge,

That he shal lese for hire love 950

A lappe of _caritatis_.

"How construeth David the king

Of men that taketh Mede,

And men of this moolde

That maynteneth truthe,

And how ye shul save yourself,

The sauter bereth witnesse:

_Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo, etc._ =

"And now worth this Mede y-maried 960

Unto a mansed sherewe,

To oon fals fikel tonge,

A fendes biyete;

Favel thorugh his faire speche

Hath this folk enchaunted,

And al is Lieres ledynge,

That she is thus y-wedded.

"To-morwe worth y-maked

The maydenes bridale,

And there myghtow witen, if thow wilt, 970

Whiche thei ben alle

{31}

That longen to that lordshipe,

The lasse and the moore.

Knowe hem there, if thow kanst,

And kepe thow thi tonge,

And lakke hem noght, but lat hem worthe

Till leauté be justice,

And have power to punysshe hem,

Thanne put forth thi reson.

Now I bikenne thee Crist," quod she, 980

"And his clene moder,

And lat no conscience acombre thee

For coveitise of Mede."

Thus lefte me that lady

Liggynge a-slepe;

And how Mede was y-maried

In metels me thoughte,

That al the riche retenaunce

That regneth with the false,

Were boden to the bridale 990

On bothe two sides,

Of alle manere of men

The meene and the riche;

To marien this mayde

Were many men assembled,

As of knyghtes and of clerkes,

And oother commune peple,

As sisours and somonours,

Sherreves and hire clerkes,

Bedelles and baillifs, 1000

And brocours of chaffare,

Forgoers and vitaillers,

And advokettes of the arches;

I kan noght rekene the route

That ran aboute Mede.

{32}

Ac Symonie and Cyvylle,

And sisours of courtes,

Were moost pryvee with Mede

Of any men, me thoughte.

Ac Favel was the firste 1010

That fette hire out of boure,

And as a brocour broughte hire

To be with Fals enjoyned.

Whan Symonye and Cyvylle

Seighe hir bothe wille,

Thei assented, for silver,

To seye as bothe wolde.

Thanne leep Liere forth, and seide,

"Lo here a chartre!"

That Gile with hise grete othes 1020

Gaf hem togidere,

And preide Cyvylle to see,

And Symonye to rede it.

Thanne Symonye and Cyvylle

Stonden forth bothe,

And unfoldeth the feffement

That Fals hath y-maked,

And thus bigynnen thise gomes

To greden ful heighe:

_Sciant præsentes et futuri, etc._ 1030

Witeth and witnesseth,

That wonieth upon this erthe,

That Mede is y-maried

Moore for hire goodes

Than for any vertue or fairnesse,

Or any free kynde.

Falsnesse is fayn of hire,

For he woot hire riche;

And Favel with his fikel speche

{33}

Feffeth by this chartre, 1040

To be princes in pride

And poverte to despise,

To bakbite and to bosten,

And bere fals witnesse,

To scorne and to scolde,

And sclaundre to make,

Unbuxome and bolde

To breke the ten hestes.

And the erldom of Envye

And Wrathe togideres, 1050

With the chastilet of Cheste,

And Chaterynge out of reson.

The countee of Coveitise,

And alle the costes aboute,

That is Usure and Avarice,

Al I hem graunte,

In bargaynes and in brocages,

With al the burghe of Thefte,

And al the lordshipe of Leccherie

In lengthe and in brede, 1060

As in werkes and in wordes,

And in waitynges with eighes,

And in wedes and in wisshynges,

And with ydel thoughtes,

There as wil wolde

And werkmanshipe fayleth.

Glotonye he gaf hem ek,

And grete othes togidere,

And al day to drynken

At diverse tavernes, 1070

And there to jangle and jape,

And jugge hir even cristen;

And in fastynge dayes to frete

{34}

Er ful tyme were,

And thanne to sitten and soupen

Til sleep hem assaille;

And breden as burghe swyn,

And bedden hem esily,

Til sleuthe and sleep

Sliken hise sydes, 1080

And thanne wanhope to awaken hem so

With no wil to amende,

For he leveth be lost,

This is hir laste ende.

And thei to have and to holde,

And hire heires after,

A dwellynge with the devel,

And dampned be for evere,

With alle the appurtinaunces of purgatorie =

Into the pyne of helle. 1091

Yeldynge for this thyng,

At one dayes tyme,

Hire soules to Sathan,

To suffre with hym peynes,

And with hym to wonye with wo

While God is in hevene.

In witnesse of which thyng,

Wrong was the firste,

And Piers the pardoner 1100

Of Paulynes doctrine,

Bette the bedel

Of Bokyngham shire,

Reynald the reve

Of Rutland sokene,

Maude the millere,

And many mo othere.

{35}

In the date of the devel

This dede I ensele,

By sighte of Sire Symonie 1110

And Cyvyles leeve.

Thanne tened hym Theologie,

Whan he this tale herde;

And seide unto Cyvyle,

"Now sorwe mote thow have,

Swiche weddynges to werche,

To wrathe with truthe;

And er this weddynge be wroght,

Wo thee bitide!

"For Mede is muliere 1120

Of Amendes engendred,

And God graunteth to gyve

Mede to Truthe;

And thow hast gyven hire to a gilour;

Now God gyve thee sorwe!

Thi text telleth thee noght so,

Truthe woot the sothe;

For _Dignus est operarius_

His hire to have,

And thow hast fest hire to Fals, 1130

Fy on thi lawe!

For al bi lesynges thow lyvest

And lecherouse werkes.

Symonye and thiself

Shenden holi chirche;

The notaries and ye

Noyen the peple;

Ye shul a-biggen it bothe,

By God that me made!

"Wel ye witen, wernardes, 1140

But if youre wit faille,

{36}

That Fals is feithlees

And fikel in hise werkes,

And was a bastarde y-bore

Of Belsabubbes kynne;

And Mede is muliere,

A maiden of goode,

And myghte kisse the kyng

For cosyn, and she wolde.

"For-thi wercheth by wisdom, 1150

And by wit also;

And ledeth hire to Londone,

There it is y-shewed,

If any lawe wol loke

Thei ligge togideres;

And though justices juggen hire

To be joyned to Fals,

Yet be war of weddynge;

For witty is Truthe,

And Conscience is of his counseil, 1160

And knoweth yow echone,

And if he fynde yow in defaute

And with the false holde,

It shal bi-sitte youre soules

Ful soure at the laste."

Herto assenteth Cyvyle,

Ac Symonye ne wolde,

Til he hadde silver for his service,

And also the notaries.

Thanne fette Favel forth 1170

Floryns ynowe,

And bad Gile to gyven

Gold al aboute,

And namely to the notaries

That hem noon ne faille,

{37}

And feffe false witnesses

With floryns ynowe,

"For thei may Mede a-maistrye,

And maken at my wille."

Tho this gold was y-gyve, 1180

Gret was the thonkyng

To Fals and to Favel

For hire faire giftes,

And comen to conforten

From care the false,

And seiden, "Certes, sire,

Cessen shul we nevere,

Til Mede be thi wedded wif

Thorugh wittes of us alle;

For we have Mede a-maistried 1190

With oure murie speche,

That she graunteth to goon,

With a good wille,

To London, to loken

If the lawe wolde

Juggen yow joyntly

In joie for evere."

Thanne was Falsnesse fayn,

And Favel as blithe,

And leten somone alle segges 1200

In shires aboute,

And bad hem alle be bown,

Beggers and othere,

To wenden with hem to Westmynstre

To witnesse this dede.

Ac thanne cared thei for caples

To carien hem thider,

And Favel fette forth thanne

Foles ynowe,

{38}

And sette Mede upon a sherreve 1210

Shoed al newe.

And Fals sat on a sisour,

That softeli trotted;

And Favel on a flaterere

Fetisly atired.

Tho hadde notaries none,

Anoyed thei were,

For Symonye and Cyvylle

Sholde on hire feet gange.

Ac thanne swoor Symonye, 1220

And Cyvylle bothe,

That somonours sholde be sadeled

And serven hem echone,

And late apparaille thise provisours

In palfreyes wise,

Sire Symonye hymself

Shal sitte upon hir bakkes.

"Denes and southdenes,

Drawe yow togideres,

Erchdekenes and officials, 1230

And alle youre registrers,

Lat sadle hem with silver

Oure synne to suffre,

As avoutrye and divorses,

And derne usurie,

To bere bisshopes aboute

A-brood in visitynge.

"Paulynes pryvees

For pleintes in consistorie,

Shul serven myself 1240

That Cyvyle is nempned.

"And cart-sadle the commissarie,

Oure cart shal he lede,

{39}

And fecchen us vitailles.

At _Fornicatores_.

And maketh of Lyere a lang cart

To leden alle thise othere,

As freres and faitours,

That on hire feet rennen."

And thus Fals and Favel 1250

Fareth forth togideres,

And Mede in the middes,

And alle thise men after.

I have no tome to telle

The tail that hire folwed;

Ac Gyle was for-goer,

And gyed hem alle.

Sothnesse seigh hem wel,

And seide but litel,

And priked his palfrey, 1260

And passed hem alle,

And com to the kynges court,

And Conscience it tolde;

And Conscience to the kyng

Carped it after.

"Now, by Crist," quod the kyng,

"And I cacche myghte

Fals or Favel,

Or any of hise feeris,

I wolde be wroken of tho wrecches 1270

That wercheth so ille,

And doon hem hange by the hals,

And alle that hem maynteneth;

Shal nevere man of this molde

Meynprise the leeste,

But right as the lawe wol loke,

Lat falle on hem alle."

{40}

And comaunded a constable

That com at the firste,

To attachen tho tyrauntz, 1280

"For any thyng I hote,

And fettreth faste Falsnesse,

For any kynnes giftes,

And girdeth of Gyles heed,

And lat hym go no ferther;

And if ye lacche Lyere,

Lat hym noght ascapen

Er he be put on the pillory,

For any preyere, I hote;

And bryngeth Mede to me 1290

Maugree hem alle."

Drede at the dore stood,

And the doom herde,

And how the kyng comaunded

Constables and sergeauntz

Falsnesse and his felawshipe

To fettren and to bynden.

Thanne Drede wente wyghtliche,

And warned the False,

And bad hym fle for fere, 1300

And hise felawes alle.

Falsnesse for fere thanne

Fleigh to the ffreres,

And Gyle dooth hym to go,

A-gast for to dye;

Ac marchauntz metten with hym

And made hym abide,

And bi-shetten hym in hire shoppes

To shewen hire ware,

Apparailed hym as apprentice 1310

The peple to serve.

{41}

Lightliche Lyere

Leep awey thanne,

Lurkynge thorugh lanes,

To-lugged of manye.

He was nowher welcome,

For his manye tales,

Over al y-honted,

And y-hote trusse,

Til pardoners hadde pité, 1320

And pulled hym into house.

They wesshen hym and wiped hym.

And wounden hym in cloutes,

And senten hym with seles

On Sondayes to chirches,

And yeven pardoun for pens

Pounde-mele aboute.

Thanne lourede leches,

And lettres thei sente,

That he sholde wonye with hem 1330

Watres to loke.

Spycers speken with hym,

To spien hire ware;

For he kouthe of hir craft,

And knewe manye gommes.

And mynstrales and messagers

Mette with hym ones,

And helden hym an half-yeer

And ellevene dayes.

Freres with fair speche 1340

Fetten hym pennes,

And for knowynge of comeres

Coped hym as a frere;

Ac he hath leve to lepen out,

As ofte as hym liketh,

{42}

And is welcome whan he wile,

And woneth with hem ofte.

Alle fledden for fere,

And flowen into hernes;

Save Mede the mayde, 1350

Na-mo dorste abide.

Ac trewely to telle,

She trembled for drede,

And ek wepte and wrong,

Whan she was attached. 1355

* * * * *

{43}

_Passus Tertius de Visione, ut supra._

Now is Mede the mayde, 1356

And na-mo of hem alle,

With bedeles and with baillies

Brought bifore the kyng.

The kyng called a clerk, 1360

Kan I noght his name,

To take Mede the maide

And maken hire at ese.

"I shal assayen hire myself,

And soothliche appose,

What man of this moolde

That hire were levest.

And if she werche bi wit,

And my wil folwe,

I wol forgyven hire this gilt, 1370

So me God helpe!"

Curteisly the clerk thanne,

As the kyng highte,

Took Mede bi the myddel

And broghte hire into chambre;

And ther was murthe and mynstralcie,

Mede to plese.

They that wonyeth in Westmynstre =

Worshipeth hire alle, 1380

{44}

Gentilliche with joye;

The justices somme

Busked hem to the bour

Ther the burde dwellede,

To conforten hire kyndely,

By clergies leve;

And seiden, "Mourne noght, Mede,

Ne make thow no sorwe;

For we wol wisse the kyng,

And thi wey shape, 1390

To be wedded at thi wille,

And wher thee leef liketh,

For al Consciences cast

Or craft, as I trowe."

Mildely Mede thanne

Merciede hem alle

Of hire grete goodnesse,

And gaf hem echone

Coupes of clene gold,

And coppes of silver, 1400

Rynges with rubies,

And richesses manye;

The leeste man of hire meynee

A moton of golde.

Than laughte thei leve

Thise lordes at Mede.

With that comen clerkes

To conforten hire the same,

And beden hire be blithe;

"For we beth thyne owene, 1410

For to werche thi wille,

The while thow myght laste."

Hendiliche heo thanne

Bi-highte hem the same,

{45}

To loven hem lelly,

And lordes to make,

And in the consistorie at the court

Do callen hire names;

"Shal no lewednesse lette

The leode that I lovye, 1420

That he ne worth first avaunced;

For I am bi-knowen,

There konnynge clerkes

Shul clokke bi-hynde."

Thanne cam ther a confessour,

Coped as a frere;

To Mede the mayde

He meved thise wordes,

And seide ful softely,

In shrift as it were, 1430

"Theigh lewed men and lered men

Hadde leyen by thee bothe,

And Falsnesse hadde y-folwed thee

Alle thise fifty wynter,

I shal assoille thee myself

For a seem of whete,

And also be thi bedeman,

And bere wel thi message

Amonges knyghtes and clerkes,

Conscience to torne." 1440

Thanne Mede for hire mysdedes

To that man kneled,

And shrof hire of hire sherewednesse,

Shamelees, I trowe;

Tolde hym a tale,

And took hym a noble,

For to ben hire bedeman

And hire brocour als.

{46}

Thanne he assoiled hire soone,

And sithen he seide, 1450

"We have a wyndow in werchynge

Wole sitten us ful hye,

Woldestow glaze that gable

And grave therinne thy name,

Syker sholde thi soule be

Hevene to have."

"Wiste I that," quod that womman,

"I wolde noght spare

For to be youre frend, frere,

And faile yow nevere, 1460

While ye love lordes

That lecherie haunten,

And lakketh noght ladies

That loven wel the same.

It is freletee of flesshe,

Ye fynden it in bokes,

And a cours of kynde

Wherof we comen alle.

Who may scape sclaundre,

The scathe is soone amended; 1470

It is synne of the sevene

Sonnest relessed.

"Have mercy," quod Mede,

"Of men that it haunteth,

And I shal covere youre kirk,

Youre cloistre do maken,

Wowes do whiten,

And wyndowes glazen,

Do peynten and portraye,

And paie for the makynge, 1480

That every segge shal seye

I am suster of youre house."

{47}

Ac God to alle good folk

Swich gravynge defendeth,

To writen in wyndowes

Of hir wel dedes,

An aventure pride be peynted there,

And pomp of the world;

For Crist knoweth thi conscience,

And thi kynde wille, 1490

And thi cost and thi coveitise,

And who the catel oughte.

For-thi I lere yow, lordes,

Leveth swiche werkes;

To writen in wyndowes

Of youre wel dedes,

Or to greden after Goddes men

Whan ye dele doles,

On aventure ye have youre hire here,

And youre hevene als. 1500

_Nesciat sinistra quid faciat dextra._

Lat noght thi left half

Late ne rathe

Wite what thow werchest

With thi right syde;

For thus by the gospel

Goode men doon hir almesse.

Maires and maceres,

That menes ben bitwene

The kyng and the comune 1510

To kepe the lawes,

To punysshe on pillories

And pynynge-stooles,

Brewesters and baksters,

Bochiers and cokes,

For thise are men on this molde

{48}

That moost harm wercheth

To the povere peple

That percel-mele buggen;

For thei enpoisone the peple 1520

Pryveliche and ofte,

Thei richen thorugh regratrie,

And rentes hem biggen,

With that the povere peple

Sholde putte in hire wombe.

For toke thei on trewely,

Thei tymbred nought so heighe,

Ne boughte none burgages,

Be ye ful certeyne.

Ac Mede the mayde 1530

The mair hath bi-sought

Of alle swiche selleris

Silver to take,

Or presentz withouten pens,

As pieces of silver,

Rynges or oother richesse,

The regratiers to mayntene;

"For my love," quod that lady,

"Love hem echone,

And suffre hem to selle 1540

Som del ayeins reson."

Salomon the sage

A sermon he made,

For to amenden maires

And men that kepen lawes;

And tolde hem this teme,

That I telle thynke,

_Ignis devorabit tabernacula eorum

qui libenter accipiunt munera,

etc._ 1550

{49}

Among thise lettrede leodes

This Latyn is to mene,

That fir shal falle and brenne

Al to bloo askes

The houses and homes

Of hem that desireth

Yiftes or yeres-yeves

By cause of hire offices.

The kyng fro the conseil cam,

And called after Mede, 1560

And of sente hire as swithe

With sergeauntz manye,

And broughte hire to boure

With blisse and with joye.

Curteisly the kyng thanne

Comsed to telle,

To Mede the mayde

He meveth thise wordes,

"Unwittily, womman,

Wroght hastow ofte, 1570

Ac worse wroghtestow nevere

Than tho thow Fals toke.

But I forgyve thee that gilt,

And graunte thee my grace;

Hennes to thi deeth day

Do so na-moore.

"I have a knyght Conscience,

Cam late fro biyonde;

If he wilneth thee to wif,

Wiltow hym have?" 1580

"Ye, lord," quod that lady,

"Lord forbede it ellis!

But I be holly at youre heste,

Lat hange me soone."

{50}

And thanne was Conscience called

To come and appere

Bifore the kyng and his conseil,

As clerkes and othere.

Knelynge Conscience

To the kyng louted, 1590

To wite what his wille were,

And what he do wolde.

"Woltow wedde this womman," quod the kyng,

"If I wole assente?

For she is fayn of thi felaweshipe,

For to be thi make."

Quod Conscience to the kyng,

"Crist it me forbede!

Er I wedde swich a wif,

Wo me bitide! 1600

For she is frele of hire feith,

Fikel of hire speche,

And maketh men mysdo

Many score tymes;

Trust of hire tresor

Bitrayeth ful manye.

"Wyves and widewes

Wantonnes she techeth,

And lereth hem lecherie

That loveth hire giftes. 1610

Youre fader she felled

Thorugh false biheste,

And hath enpoisoned popes,

And peired holy chirche.

Is noght a bettre baude,

By hym that me made!

Bitwene hevene and helle,

In erthe though men soughte.

{51}

For she is tikel of hire tail,

And tale-wis of hire tonge; 1620

As commune as a cartwey

To ech a knave that walketh,

To monkes, to mynstrales,

To meseles in hegges.

"Sisours and somonours,

Swiche men hire preiseth;

Sherreves of shires

Were shent if she ne were;

For she dooth men lese hire lond

And hire lif bothe; 1630

She leteth passe prisoners,

And paieth for hem ofte,

And gyveth the gailers gold

And grotes togidres,

To unfettre the fals

Fle where hym liketh;

And taketh the trewe bi the top

And tieth hem faste,

And hangeth hem for hatrede

That harm dide nevere. 1640

"To be corsed in consistorie

She counteth noght a bene;

For she copeth the commissarie,

And coteth hise clerkes.

She is assoiled as soone

As hireself liketh;

And may neigh as muche do

In a monthe one,

As youre secret seel

In sixe score dayes. 1650

For she is pryvee with the pope,

Provisours it knoweth;

{52}

For sire Symonie and hirselve

Seleth hire bulles.

"She blesseth thise bisshopes,

Theigh thei be lewed;

Provendreth persones,

And preestes maynteneth,

To have lemmans and lotebies

Alle hire lif daies, 1660

And bryngeth forth barnes

Ayein forbode lawes.

Ther she is wel with the kyng,

Wo is the reaume;

For she is favourable to fals,

And de-fouleth truthe ofte.

"By Jhesus! with hire jeweles

Youre justices she shendeth,

And lith ayein the lawe,

And letteth hym the gate, 1670

That feith may noght have his forth,

Hire floryns go so thikke.

She ledeth the lawe as hire list,

And love-daies maketh,

And doth men lese thorugh hire love,

That lawe myghte wynne

The maze for a mene man,

Though he mote hire evere.

Lawe is so lordlich

And looth to maken ende, 1680

Withouten presentz or pens

She pleseth wel fewe.

"Barons and burgeises

She bryngeth in sorwe,

And al the comune in care

That coveiten lyve in truthe;

{53}

For clergie and coveitise

She coupleth togidres.

This is the lif of that lady;

Now Lord gyve hire sorwe! 1690

And alle that maynteneth hire men,

Meschaunce hem bitide!

For povere men may have no power

To pleyne hem, though thei smerte.

Swich a maister is Mede

Among men of goode."

Thanne mournede Mede,

And mened hire to the kynge

To have space to speke,

Spede if she myghte. 1700

The kyng graunted hire grace,

With a good wille,

"Excuse thee, if thow kanst;

I kan na-moore seggen.

For Conscience accuseth thee,

To congeien thee for evere."

"Nay, lord," quod that lady,

"Leveth hym the werse,

Whan ye witen witterly

Wher the wrong liggeth. 1710

Ther that meschief is gret,

Mede may helpe.

And thow knowest, Conscience,

I kam noght to chide

Ne deprave thi persone,

With a proud herte.

Wel thow woost, wernarde,

But if thow wolt gabbe,

Thow hast hanged on myn half

Ellevene tymes, 1720

{54}

And also griped my gold,

Gyve it where thee liked;

And whi thow wrathest thee now,

Wonder me thynketh.

Yet I may as I myghte

Menske thee with giftes,

And mayntene thi manhode

Moore than thow knowest.

"Ac thow hast famed me foule

Bifore the kyng here; 1730

For killed I nevere no kyng

Ne counseiled therafter,

Ne dide as thow demest

I do it on the kynge.

"In Normandie was he noght

Noyed for my sake;

Ac thow thiself soothly

Shamedest hym ofte,

Crope into a cabane

For cold of thi nayles, 1740

Wendest that wynter

Wolde han y-lasted evere,

And dreddest to be ded

For a dym cloude,

And hyedest homward

For hunger of thi wombe.

"Withouten pité, pilour,

Povere men thow robbedest;

And bere hire bras at thi bak

To Caleis to selle, 1750

Ther I lafte with my lord,

His lif for to save.

I made his men murye,

And mournynge lette;

{55}

I batred hem on the bak,

And boldede hire hertes,

And dide hem hoppe for hope

To have me at wille.

Hadde I ben marchal of his men,

By Marie of hevene! 1760

I dorste have leyd my lif,

And no lasse wedde,

He sholde have be lord of that lond

In lengthe and in brede,

And also kyng of that kith

His kyn for to helpe,

The leeste brol of his blood

A barones piere.

"Cowardly thow, Conscience,

Conseiledest hym thennes, 1770

To leven his lordshipe

For a litel silver,

That is the richeste reaume

That reyn over-hoveth.

"It bi-cometh to a kyng

That kepeth a reaume,

To yeve mede to men,

That mekely hym serveth,

To aliens and to alle men,

To honouren hem with giftes; 1780

Mede maketh hym bi-loved

And for a man holden.

"Emperours and erles,

And alle manere lordes,

For giftes han yonge men

To renne and to ryde.

"The pope and alle the prelates

Presentz underfongen,

{56}

And medeth men hemselven

To mayntene hir lawes. 1790

"Sergeauntz for hire servyce,

We seeth wel the sothe,

Taken mede of hir maistres,

As thei mowe acorde.

"Beggeres for hir biddynge,

Bidden men mede.

"Mynstrales for hir myrthe,

Mede thei aske.

"The kyng hath mede of his men,

To make pees in londe. 1800

"Men that teche children,

Craven after mede.

"Preestes that prechen the peple

To goode, asken mede,

And massepens and hire mete

At the meel-tymes.

"Alle kynne craftes men

Craven mede for hir prentices.

"Marchauntz and Mede

Mote nede go togideres. 1810

No wight, as I wene,

Withouten mede may libbe."

Quod the kyng to Conscience,

"By Crist! as me thynketh,

Mede is well worthi

The maistrie to have."

"Nay," quod Conscience to the kyng,

And kneled to the erthe,

"Ther are two manere of medes,

My lord, with youre leve. 1820

"That oon God of his grace

Graunteth in his blisse

{57}

To tho that wel werchen,

While thei ben here;

The prophete precheth therof,

And putte it in the Sauter,

_Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo?_ =

"Lord, who shal wonye in thi wones,

And with thyne holy seintes, 1830

Or resten in thyne holy hilles?

This asketh David;

And David assoileth it hymself,

As the Sauter telleth.

_Qui ingreditur sine macula et operatur justitiam._ =

"Tho that entren of o colour,

And of one wille,

And han y-wroght werkes

With right and with reson; 1840

And he that useth noght

The lyf of usurie,

And enformeth povere men,

And pursueth truthe.

_Qui pecuniam suam non dedit ad

usuram, et munera super innoc. etc._ =

"And alle that helpen the innocent,

And holden with the rightfulle,

Withouten mede doth hem good, 1850

And the truthe helpeth,

Swiche manere men, my lord,

Shul have this firste mede

Of God at a gret nede,

Whan thei gon hennes.

"Ther is another mede mesurelees,

{58}

That maistres desireth,

To mayntene mysdoers

Mede thei take,

And therof seith the Sauter 1860

In a salmes ende,

_In quorum manibus iniquitates

sunt, dextra eorum repleta est

muneribus._

"And he that gripeth hir gold,

So me God helpe!

Shal abien it bittre,

Or the book lieth.

"Preestes and persons

That plesynge desireth, 1870

That taken mede and moneie

For masses that thei syngeth,

Taken hire mede here,

As Mathew us techeth.

_Amen, Amen, recipiebant mercede suam._ =

"That laborers and lowe folk

Taken of hire maistres,

It is no manere mede,

But a mesurable hire. 1880

"In marchaundise is no mede,

I may it wel avowe,

It is a permutacion apertly,

A penyworth for another.

"Ac reddestow nevere _Regum_?

Thow recrayed Mede,

Whi the vengeaunce fel

On Saul and on his children?

God sente to Saul

By Samuel the prophete, 1890

{59}

That Agag of Amalec,

And al his peple after,

Sholden deye for a dede

That doon hadde hire eldres.

"For-thi seide Samuel to Saul,

'God hymself hoteth

Thee be buxom at his biddynge,

His wil to fulfille;

Weend to Amalec with thyn oost,

And what thow fyndest there sle it, 1900

Burnes and beestes

Bren hem to dethe,

Widwes and wyves,

Wommen and children,

Moebles and un-moebles,

And al thow myght fynde,

Bren it, bere it noght awey,

Be it never so riche,

For mede ne for monee,

Loke thow destruye it, 1910

Spille it and spare it noght,

Thow shalt spede the bettre.'

"And for he coveited hir catel,

And the kyng spared,

Forbar hym and his beestes bothe,

As the Bible witnesseth,

Oother wise than he was

Warned of the prophete,

God seide to Samuel

That Saul sholde deye, 1920

And al his seed for that synne

Shenfulliche ende.

Swich a meschief Mede made

Saul the kyng to have,

{60}

That God hated hym for evere,

And alle hise heires after.

"The culorum of this cas

Kepe I noght to telle,

On aventure it noyed men,

Noon ende wol I make, 1930

For so is this world went

With hem that han power,

That who so seith hem sothest

Is sonnest y-blamed.

"Conscience knowe this,

For kynde wit it me taughte,

That Reson shal regne

And reaumes governe,

And right as Agag hadde,

Happe shul somme, 1940

Samuel shal sleen hym,

And Saul shal be blamed,

And David shal be diademed,

And daunten hem alle;

And oon cristene kyng

Kepen hem alle.

Shal na-moore Mede

Be maister, as she is nouthe;

Ac love and lowenesse

And leautee togideres, 1950

Thise shul ben maistres on moolde,

Truthe to save.

"And who so trespaseth ayein truthe,

Or taketh ayein his wille,

Leauté shal don hym lawe,

And no lif ellis;

Shall no sergeaunt for his service

Were a silk howve,

{61}

Ne no pelure in his cloke

For pledynge at the barre. 1960

Mede of mysdoeres

Maketh manye lordes,

And over lordes lawes

Ruleth the reaumes.

"Ac kynde love shal come yit,

And conscience togideres,

And make of lawe a laborer;

Swich love shal arise,

And swich a pees among the peple,

And a perfit truthe, 1970

That Jewes shul wene in hire wit,

And wexen wonder glade,

That Moyses or Messie

Be come into this erthe,

And have wonder in hire hertes

That men beth so trewe.

"Alle that beren baselarde,

Brood swerd or launce,

Ax outher hachet,

Or any wepene ellis, 1980

Shal be demed to the deeth,

But if he do it smythye

Into sikel or to sithe,

To shaar or to kultour;

_Conflabunt gladios suos in vomeres, etc._ =

"Ech man to pleye with a plow,

Pykoise or spade,

Spynne or sprede donge,

Or spille hymself with sleuthe. 1990

"Preestes and persons

With _Placebo_ to hunte,

{62}

And dyngen upon David

Eche day til eve.

Huntynge or haukynge

If any of hem use,

His boost of his benefice

Worth by-nomen hym after.

Shal neither kyng ne knyght,

Constable ne meire, 2000

Overlede the commune,

Ne to the court sompne,

Ne putte hem in panel

To doon hem plighte hir truthe;

But after the dede that is doon

Oon doom shal rewarde,

Mercy or no mercy,

As truthe wole acorde.

"Kynges court and commune court,

Consistorie and chapitle, 2010

Al shal be but oon court,

And oon baron be justice.

Thanne worth Trewe-tonge a tidy man

That tened me nevere;

Batailles shul none be,

Ne no man bere wepene;

And what smyth that any smytheth,

Be smyte therwith to dethe.

_Non levabit gens contra gentem

gladium, etc._ 2020

"And er this fortune falle,

Fynde men shul the worste,

By sixe sonnes and a shipe,

And half a shef of arwes,

And the myddel of a moone,

Shal make the Jewes to torne,

{63}

And Sarzynes for that sighte

Shul synge _Gloria in excelsis, etc._

For Makometh and Mede

Mys-happe shul that tyme, 2030

For _melius est bonum nomen quam divitiæ multæ._" =

Al so wroth as the wynd

Weex Mede in a while,

"I kan no Latyn," quod she,

"Clerkes wite the sothe;

Se what Salomon seith

In Sapience bokes,

That thei that gyven giftes

The victorie wynneth, 2040

And moost worshipe hadde therwith

As holy writ telleth:

_Honorem adquiret qui dat munera, etc._ =

"Leve wel, lady," quod Conscience,

"That thi Latyn be trewe;

Ac thow art lik a lady

That radde a lesson ones,

Was _omnia probate_,

And that plesed hire herte; 2050

For that lyne was no lenger

At the leves ende.

Hadde she loked that oother half,

And the leef torned,

She sholde have founden fele wordes

Folwynge therafter,

_Quod bonum est tenete_;

Truthe that text made.

And so ferde ye, madame,

Ye kouthe na-moore fynde, 2060

{64}

Tho ye loked on Sapience

Sittynge in youre studie.

This text that ye han told

Were good for lordes;

Ac yow fayled a konnynge clerk

That kouthe the leef han torned.

And if ye seche Sapience eft,

Fynde shul ye that folweth,

A ful teneful text

To hem that taketh mede; 2070

And that is _animam autem aufert accipientium, etc._, =

And that is the tail of the text;

Of that that she shewed,

That theigh we wynne worshipe,

And with mede have victorie,

The soule that the sonde taketh

By so muche is bounde." 2078

* * * * *

{65}

_Passus Quartus de Visione, ut supra._

"Cesseth," seith the kyng, 2079

"I suffre yow no lenger;

Ye shul saughtne for sothe,

And serve me bothe.

Kis hire," quod the kyng,

"Conscience, I hote."

"Nay, by Crist!" quod Conscience,

"Congeye me er for evere,

But Reson rede me therto,

Rather wol I deye."

"And I comaunde thee," quod the kyng,

To Conscience thanne, 2090

"Rape thee to ryde,

And Reson thow fecche;

Comaunde hym that he come

My counseil to here,

For he shal rule my reaume

And rede me the beste,

And acounte with thee, Conscience,

So me Crist helpe!

How thow lernest the peple,

The lered and the lewed." 2100

"I am fayn of that foreward,"

Seide the freke thanne,

{66}

And ryt right to Reson,

And rouneth in his ere,

And seide as the kyng bad,

And sithen took his leve.

"I shal arraye me to ryde," quod Reson,

"Reste thee a while."

And called Caton his knave,

Curteis of speche, 2110

And also Tomme Trewe-tonge,--

"Tel me no tales,

Ne lesynge to laughen of,

For I loved hem nevere;

And set my sadel upon Suffre,

Til I se my tyme,

And lat warroke hym wel

With witty-wordes gerthes,

And hange on hym the hevy brydel

To holde his heed lowe, 2120

For he wol make 'wehee!'

Twies er he be there."

Thanne Conscience upon his capul

Carieth forth faste,

And Reson with hym ryt,

Rownynge togideres,

Whiche maistries Mede

Maketh on this erthe.

Oon Waryn Wisdom,

And Witty his feere, 2130

Folwed hym faste,

For thei hadde to doone

In th'escheker and in the chauncerye,

To ben descharged of thynges;

And riden faste, for Reson sholde

Rede hem the beste,

{67}

For to save hem for silver

From shame and from harmes.

And Conscience knew hem wel,

Thei loved coveitise; 2140

And bad Reson ryde faste,

And recche of hir neither.

"Ther are wiles in hire wordes,

And with Mede thei dwelleth;

Ther as wrathe and wranglynge is,

Ther wynne thei silver;

Ac where is love and leautee,

Thei wol noght come there.

_Contritio et infelicitas in viis eorum,

etc._ 2150

"Thei ne yeveth noght of God

One goose wynge.

_Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc._ =

"For woot God thei wolde do moore

For a dozeyne chicknes,

Or as manye capons,

Or for a seem of otes,

Than for the love of oure Lord,

Or alle hise leeve seintes. 2160

For-thi Reson lat hem ride,

Tho riche by hemselve,

For Conscience knoweth hem noght,

Ne Crist, as I trowe."

And thanne Reson rood faste

The righte heighe gate,

As Conscience hym kenned,

Til thei come to the kynge.

Curteisly the kyng thanne

Com ayeins Reson, 2170

{68}

And bitwene hymself and his sone

Sette hym on benche;

And wordeden wel wisely

A gret while togideres.

And thanne com Pees into parlement,

And putte forth a bille,

How Wrong ayeins his wille

Hadde his wif taken,

And how he ravysshede Rose

Reginaldes loove, 2180

And Margrete of hir maydenhede

Maugree hire chekes.

"Bothe my gees and my grys

Hise gadelynges feccheth,

I dar noght for fere of hem

Fighte ne chide.

He borwed of me Bayard,

He broughte hym hom nevere,

Ne no ferthyng therfore,

For ought I koude plede. 2190

He maynteneth hise men

To murthere myne hewen,

Forstalleth my feires,

And fighteth in my chepyng,

And breketh up my bernes dore,

And bereth awey my whete,

And taketh me but a taillé

For ten quarters of otes;

And yet he beteth me therto,

And lyth by my mayde. 2200

I am noght hardy for hym

Unnethe to loke."

The kyng knew he seide sooth,

For Conscience hym tolde

{69}

That Wrong was a wikked luft,

And wroghte muche sorwe.

Wrong was afered thanne,

And Wisdom he soughte,

To maken pees with hise pens;

And profred hym manye, 2210

And seide, "Hadde I love of my lord the kyng,

Litel wolde I recche,

Theigh Pees and his power

Pleyned hym evere."

Tho wente Wisdom

And sire Waryn the Witty,

For that Wrong hadde y-wroght

So wikked a dede,

And warnede Wrong tho

With swich a wis tale, 2220

"Who so wercheth by wille,

Wrathe maketh ofte;

I sey it by myself,

Thow shalt it wel fynde;

But if Mede it make,

Thi meschief is uppe,

For bothe thi lif and thi lond

Lyth in his grace."

Thanne wowede Wrong

Wisdom ful yerne, 2230

To maken pees with his pens,

Handy dandy payed.

Wisdom and Wit thanne

Wenten togidres,

And token Mede myd hem

Mercy to wynne.

Pees putte forth his heed,

And his panne blody,

{70}

"Withouten gilt, God it woot,

Gat I this scathe; 2240

Conscience and the commune

Knowen the sothe."

Ac Wisdom and Wit

Were aboute faste,

To overcomen the kyng

With catel, if thei myghte.

The kyng swor by Crist,

And by his crowne bothe,

That Wrong for hise werkes

Sholde wo tholie; 2250

And comaundede a constable

To casten hym in irens,

And lete hym noght thise seven yer

Seen his feet ones.

"God woot," quod Wisdom,

"That were noght the beste;

And he amendes nowe make,

Lat maynprise hym have,

And be borgh for his bale,

And buggen hym boote, 2260

And so amenden that is mys-do

And evere moore the bettre."

Wit acorded therwith,

And seide the same,

"Bettre is that boote

Bale a-doun brynge,

Than bale be y-bet,

And boote never the bettre."

And thanne gan Mede to mengen hire,

And mercy she bi-soughte, 2270

And profrede Pees a present

Al of pure golde:

{71}

"Have this, man, of me," quod she,

"To amenden thi scathe,

For I wol wage for Wrong

He wol do so na-moore."

Pitously Pees thanne

Preyde to the kynge,

To have mercy on that man

That mys-dide hym so ofte; 2280

"For he hath waged me wel,

As Wisdom hym taughte,

And I forgyve hym that gilt

With a good wille,

So that the kyng assente,

I kan seye no bettre;

For Mede hath me amendes maad,

I may na-moore axe."

"Nay," quod the kyng tho,

"So me Crist helpe! 2290

Wrong wendeth noght so a-wey,

Erst wole I wite moore.

For lope he so lightly,

Laughen he wolde;

And eft the boldere be

To bete myne hewen;

But Reson have ruthe on hym,

He shal reste in my stokkes;

And that as longe as he lyveth,

But lownesse hym borwe." 2300

Som men radde Reson tho

To have ruthe on that shrewe,

And for to counseille the kyng,

And Conscience after;

That Mede moste be maynpernour

Reson thei bi-soughte.

{72}

"Reed me noght," quod Reson,

"No ruthe to have,

Til lordes and ladies

Loven alle truthe, 2310

And haten alle harlotrie,

To heren or to mouthen it.

"Til Parnelles purfille

Be put in hire hucche,

And childrene cherissynge

Be chastynge with yerdes,

And harlottes holynesse

Be holden for an hyne.

"Til clerkene coveitise be

To clothe the povere and fede, 2320

And religiouse romeris

_Recordare_ in hir cloistres,

As seynt Beneyt hem bad,

Bernard and Fraunceis,

And til prechours prechynge

Be preved on hemselve.

"Til the kynges counseil

Be the commune profit,

Til bisshopes bayardes

Ben beggeris chaumbres, 2330

Hire haukes and hire houndes

Help to povere religious.

"And til seint James be sought

There I shal assigne,

That no man go to Galis

But if he go for evere;--

And alle Rome renneres,

For robberes biyonde,

Bere no silver over see

That signe of kyng sheweth, 2340

{73}

Neither grave ne ungrave,

Gold neither silver,

Upon forfeture of that fee,

Who so fynt it at Dovere,

But if he be marchaunt or his man,

Or messager with lettres,

Provysour or preest,

Or penaunt for hise synnes.

"And yet," quod Reson, "by the Rode!

I shal no ruthe have, 2350

While Mede hath the maistrie

In this moot-halle.

Ac I may shewe ensamples,

As I se outher while,

I seye it by myself," quod he,

"And it so were

That I were kyng with coroune

To kepen a reaume,

Sholde nevere Wrong in this world,

That I wite myghte, 2360

Ben unpunysshed in my power,

For peril of my soule,

Ne gete my grace for giftes,

So me God save!

Ne for no mede have mercy,

But mekenesse it make;

For _nullum malum_ the man

Mette with _inpunitum_,

And bad _nullum bonum_

Be _irremuneratum_. 2370

"Lat youre confessour, sire kyng,

Construe this unglosed;

And if ye werchen it in werk,

I wedde myne eris,

{74}

That lawe shal ben a laborer

And lede a-feld donge,

And love shal lede thi lond,

As the leef liketh."

Clerkes that were confessours

Coupled hem togideres, 2380

Al to construe this clause,

And for the kynges profit,

Ac noght for confort of the commune,

Ne for the kynges soule;

For I seigh Mede in the moot-halle

On men of lawe wynke,

And thei laughynge lope to hire,

And left Reson manye.

Waryn Wisdom

Wynked upon Mede, 2390

And seide, "Madame, I am youre man,

What so my mouth jangle;

I falle in floryns," quod that freke,

"And faile speche ofte."

Alle rightfulle recordede

That Reson truthe tolde;

And Wit acorded therwith,

And comendede hise wordes,

And the mooste peple in the halle,

And manye of the grete, 2400

And leten Mekenesse a maister,

And Mede a mansed sherewe.

Love leet of hire light,

And leauté yet lasse,

And seiden it so heighe

That al the halle it herde,

"Who so wilneth hire to wif,

For welthe of hire goodes,

{75}

But he be knowe for a cokewold,

Kut of my nose." 2410

Mede mornede tho,

And made hevy chere,

For the mooste commune of that court

Called hire an hore.

Ac a sisour and a somonour

Sued hire faste,

And a sherreves clerk

Bisherewed at the route;

"For ofte have I," quod he,

"Holpen yow at the barre, 2420

And yet yeve ye me nevere

The worth of a risshe."

The kyng callede Conscience,

And afterward Reson,

And recordede that Reson

Hadde rightfully shewed;

And modiliche upon Mede

With myght the kyng loked;

And gan wexe wroth with lawe,

For Mede almoost hadde shent it; 2430

And seide, "thorugh lawe, as I leve!

I lese manye eschetes;

Mede overmaistreth lawe,

And muche Truthe letteth.

Ac Reson shal rekene with yow,

If I regne any while,

And deme yow bi this day,

As ye han deserved.

Mede shal noght maynprise yow,

By the Marie of hevene! 2440

I wole have leauté in lawe,

And lete be al youre janglyng;

{76}

And as moost folk witnesseth wel,

Wrong shal be demed."

Quod Conscience to the kyng,

"But the commune wole assente,

It is ful hard, by myn heed!

Hertoo to brynge it,

Alle youre lige leodes

To lede thus evene." 2450

"By hym that raughte on the rode!"

Quod Reson to the kynge,

"But if I rule thus youre reaume,

Rende out my guttes,

If ye bidden buxomnesse

Be of myn assent."

"And I assente," seith the kyng,

"By seinte Marie my lady!

By my counseil commune,

Of clerkes and of erles; 2460

Ac redily, Reson,

Thow shalt noght ride fro me,

For, as longe as I lyve,

Lete thee I nelle."

"I am al redy," quod Reson,

"To reste with yow evere;

So Conscience be of oure counseil,

I kepe no bettre."

"And I graunte," quod the kyng,

"Goddes forbode ellis!

Als longe as oure lyf lasteth,

Lyve we togideres." 2472

* * * * *

{77}

_Passus Quintus de Visione, ut supra._

The kyng and hise knyghtes 2473

To the kirke wente,

To here matyns of the day

And the masse after.

Thanne waked I of my wynkyng,

And wo was withalle,

That I ne hadde slept sadder,

And y-seighen moore. 2480

Ac er I hadde faren a furlong,

Feyntise me hente,

That I ne myghte ferther a foot

For defaute of slepynge,

And sat softely a-doun,

And seide my bileve,

And so I bablede on my bedes,

Thei broughte me a-slepe.

And thanne saugh I muche moore

Than I bifore of tolde, 2490

For I seigh the feld ful of folk,

That I bifore of seide,

And how Reson gan arayen hym

Al the reaume to preche,

And with a cros afore the kyng

Comsede thus to techen.

{78}

He preved that thise pestilences

Were for pure synne,

And the south-westrene wynd

On Saterday at even 2500

Was pertliche for pure pride,

And for no point ellis;

Pyries and plum-trees

Were puffed to the erthe,

In ensaumple that the segges

Sholden do the bettre;

Beches and brode okes

Were blowen to the grounde,

Turned upward hire tailes,

In tokenynge of drede 2510

That dedly synne er domes-day

Shal for-doon hem alle.

Of this matere I myghte

Mamelen ful longe;

Ac I shal seye as I saugh,

So me God helpe!

How pertly afore the peple

Reson bigan to preche.

He bad Wastour go werche,

What he best kouthe, 2520

And wynnen his wastyng

With som maner crafte.

He preide Pernele

Hir purfil to lete,

And kepe it in hire cofre

For catel at hire nede.

Tomme Stowne he taughte

To take two staves,

And fecche Felice hom

Fro the wynen pyne. 2530

{79}

He warnede Watte

His wif was to blame,

For hire heed was worth half marc,

And his hood noght worth a grote;

And bad Bette kutte

A bough outher tweye,

And bete Beton therwith,

But if she wolde werche.

And thanne he chargede chapmen

To chastizen hir children, 2540

Late no wynnyng hem for-wanye

While thei be yonge,

Ne for no poustee of pestilence

Plese hem noght out of reson.

"My sire seide so to me,

And so dide my dame,

That the levere child

The moore loore bihoveth;

And Salomon seide the same,

That _Sapience_ made, 2550

_Qui parcit virgæ, odit filium_.

The Englissh of this Latyn is,

Who so wole it knowe

Who so spareth the spring,

Spilleth hise children."

And sithen he prechede prelates

And preestes togideres,

"That ye prechen to the peple,

Preve it on yowselve,

And dooth it in dede, 2560

It shal drawe yow to goode;

If ye leven as ye leren us,

We shul leve yow the bettre."

And sithen he radde Religion

{80}

Hir rule to holde;

"Lest the kyng and his conseil

Youre comunes apeire,

And be stywardes of youre stedes,

Til ye be ruled bettre."

And sithen he counseiled the kyng 2570

His commune to lovye;

"It is thi trewe tresor,

And tryacle at thy nede."

And sithen he preide the pope

Have pité on holy chirche,

And er he gyve any grace,

Governe first hymselve.

"And ye that han lawes to kepe,

Lat truthe be youre coveitise,

Moore than gold outher giftes, 2580

If ye wol God plese;

For who so contrarieth Truthe,

He telleth in the gospel,

That God knoweth hym noght,

Ne no seynt of hevene.

_Amen dico vobis, nescio vos._

"And ye that seke seynt James,

And seyntes of Rome,

Seketh seynt Truthe,

For he may save yow alle; 2590

_Qui cum patre et filio_,

That faire hem bi-falle

That seweth my sermon."

And thus seyde Reson.

Thanne ran Repentaunce,

And reherced his teme:

And garte Wille to wepe

Water with hise eighen.

{81}

Pernele Proud-herte

Platte hire to the erthe, 2600

And lay longe er she loked,

And "Lord, mercy!" cryde,

And bi-highte to hym

That us alle made,

She sholde unsowen hir serk,

And sette there an heyre,

To affaiten hire flesshe

That fiers was to synne.

"Shal nevere heigh herte me hente,

But holde I wole me lowe 2610

And suffre to be mys-seyd,

And so dide I nevere;

And now I wole meke me,

And mercy biseche,

For al this I have

Hated in myn herte."

Thanne Lechour seide, "Allas!"

And on oure Lady he cryde,

To maken mercy for hise mys-dedes

Bitwene God and his soule; 2620

With that he sholde the Saterday,

Seven yer therafter,

Drynke but myd the doke,

And dyne but ones.

Envye with hevy herte

Asked after shrifte,

And carefully _mea culpa_

He comsed to shewe.

He was as pale as a pelet,

In the palsy he semed; 2630

And clothed in a kaurymaury,

I kouthe it nought discryve,

{82}

In kirtel and courtepy,

And a knyf by his syde;

Of a freres frokke

Were the fore-sleves;

And as a leek that hadde y-leye

Longe in the sonne,

So loked he with lene chekes

Lourynge foule. 2640

His body was to-bollen for wrathe,

That he boot hise lippes;

And wryngynge he yede with the fust,

To wreke hymself he thoughte

With werkes or with wordes,

Whan he seyghe his tyme.

Ech a word that he warpe

Was of a neddres tonge;

Of chidynge and of chalangynge

Was his chief liflode, 2650

With bakbitynge and bismere,

And berynge of fals witnesse.

"I wolde ben y-shryve," quod this sherewe,

"And I for shame dorste;

I wolde be gladder, by God!

That Gybbe hadde meschaunce,

Than though I hadde this wouke y-wonne

A weye of Essex chese.

"I have a neghebore by me,

I have anoyed hym ofte, 2660

And lowen on hym to lordes

To doon hym lese his silver,

And maad his frendes be his foon

Thorugh my false tonge;

His grace and his goode happes

Greven me ful soore.

{83}

"Bitwene manye and manye

I make debate ofte,

That bothe lif and lyme

Is lost thorugh my speche. 2670

And whan I mete hym in market

That I moost hate,

I hailse hym hendely,

As I his frend were;

For he is doughtier than I,

I dar do noon oother;

Ac hadde I maistrie and myght,

God woot my wille!

"And whan I come to the kirk,

And sholde knele to the roode, 2680

And preye for the peple

As the preest techeth,

For pilgrymes and for palmeres,

For al the peple after,

Thanne I crye on my knees

That Crist gyve hem sorwe,

That beren awey my bolle

And my broke shete.

"Awey fro the auter thanne

Turne I myne eighen, 2690

And bi-holde Eleyne

Hath a newe cote;

I wisshe thanne it were myn,

And al the web after.

"And of mennes lesynge I laughe,

That liketh myn herte;

And for hir wynnynge I wepe,

And waille the tyme;

And deme that thei doon ille,

There I do wel werse. 2700

{84}

Who so under-nymeth me hero

I hate hym dedly after;

I wolde that ech a wight

Were my knave,

For who so hath moore than I,

Than angreth me soore.

And thus I lyve love-lees,

Lik a luther dogge;

That al my body bolneth,

For bitter of my galle. 2710

"I myghte noght ete many yeres

As a man oughte,

For envye and yvel wil

Is yvel to defie.

May no sugre ne swete thyng

Aswage my swellyng?

Ne no _diapenidion_

Dryve it fro myn herte?

Ne neither shrifte ne shame,

But who so shrape my mawe?" 2720

"Yis redily," quod Repentaunce,

And radde hym to the beste,

"Sorwe of synnes

Is savacion of soules."

"I am sory," quod that segge,

"I am but selde oother,

And that maketh me thus megre,

For I ne may me venge.

"Amonges burgeises have I be

Dwellyng at Londone, 2730

And gart bakbityng be a brocour

To blame mennes ware;

Whan he solde and I nought,

Thanne was I redy

{85}

To lye and to loure on my neghebore,

And to lakke his chaffare;

I wole amende this, if I may,

Thorugh myght of God almyghty."

Now awaketh Wrathe,

With two white eighen; 2740

And nevelynge with the nose,

And his nekke hangyng.

"I am Wrathe," quod he,

"I was som tyme a frere,

And the coventes gardyner

For to graffen impes;

On lymitours and listres

Lesynges I ymped,

Til thei beere leves of lowe speche,

Lordes to plese, 2750

And sithen thei blosmede a-brood

In boure to here shriftes;

And now is fallen therof a fruyt,

That folk han wel levere

Shewen hire shriftes to hem,

Than shryve hem to hir persons.

"And now persons han perceyved

That freres parte with hem,

Thise possessioners preche

And deprave freres. 2760

"And freres fyndeth hem in defaute,

As folk bereth witnesse,

That whan thei preche the peple

In many places aboute,

I Wrathe walke with hem,

And wisse hem of my bokes.

Thus thei speken of my spiritualté,

That either despiseth oother,

{86}

Til thei be bothe beggers

And by my spiritualté libben, 2770

Or ellis al riche

And ryden aboute.

I Wrathe reste nevere,

That I ne moste folwe

This wikked folk,

For swich is my grace.

"I have an aunte to nonne,

And an abbesse bothe;

Hir hadde levere swowe or swelte,

Than suffre any peyne, 2780

"I have be cook in hir kichene,

And the covent served

Manye monthes with hem,

And with monkes bothe.

I was the prioresse potager,

And othere povere ladies,

And maad hem joutes of janglyng,

That dame Johane was a bastard,

And dame Clarice a knyghtes doughter,

Ac a cokewold was hir sire; 2790

And dame Pernele a preestes fyle,

Prioresse worth she nevere,

For she hadde child in chirie-tyme,

Al our chapitre it wiste.

"Of wikkede wordes

I Wrathe hire wortes made,

Til 'thow lixt' and 'thow lixt'

Lopen out at ones,

And either hite oother

Under the cheke; 2800

Hadde thei had knyves, by Crist

Hir either hadde kild oother.

{87}

"Seint Gregory was a good pope,

And hadde a good forwit,

That no prioresse were preest,

For that he ordeyned;

They hadde thanne ben _infames_ the firste day,

Thei kan so yvele hele conseil.

"Among monkes I myghte be,

Ac many tyme I shonye it; 2810

For there ben manye felle frekes

My feeris to aspie,

Bothe priour and suppriour

And oure _pater abbas_;

And if I telle any tales,

Thei taken hem togideres,

And doon me faste frydayes

To breed and to watre,

And am chalanged in the chapitre hous

As I a child were, 2820

And baleised on the bare ers,

And no brech bitwene.

For-thi have I no likyng

With tho leodes to wonye.

I ete there unthende fisshe,

And feble ale drynke;

Ac outher while whan wyn cometh,

Thanne I drynke wyn at eve,

And have a flux of a foul mouth

Wel fyve dayes after. 2830

Al the wikkednesse that I woot

By any of oure bretheren,

I couthe it in oure cloistre,

That al oure covent woot it."

"Now repente thee," quod Repentaunce,

"And reherce thow nevere

{88}

Counseil that thow knowest

By contenaunce ne by right;

And drynk nat over delicatly,

Ne to depe neither, 2840

That thi wille by cause therof

To wrathe myghte turne.

_Esto sobrius_," he seide,

And assoiled me after,

And bad me wilne to wepe

My wikkednesse to amende.

And thanne cam Coveitise,

Kan I hym naght discryve,

So hungrily and holwe

Sire Hervy hym loked. 2850

He was bitel-browed,

And baber-lipped also,

With two blered eighen

As a blynd hagge;

And as a letheren purs

Lolled hise chekes,

Wel sidder than his chyn

Thei chyveled for elde;

And as a bonde-man of his bacon

His berd was bi-draveled, 2860

With an hood on his heed,

A lousy hat above,

And in a tawny tabard

Of twelf wynter age,

Al so torn and baudy,

And ful of lys crepyng,

But if that a lous couthe

Han lopen the bettre,

She sholde noght han walked on that welthe,

So was it thred-bare. 2870

{89}

"I have ben coveitous," quod this caytif,

"I bi-knowe it here,

For som tyme I served

Symme-atte-Style,

And was his prentice y-plight

His profit to wayte.

"First I lerned to lye,

A leef outher tweyne;

Wikkedly to weye

Was my firste lesson; 2880

To Wy and to Wynchestre

I wente to the feyre,

With many manere marchaundise,

As my maister me highte.

Ne hadde the grace of gyle y-go

Amonges my chaffare,

It hadde ben unsold this seven yer,

So me God helpe!

"Thanne drough I me among drapiers,

My donet to lerne, 2890

To drawe the liser along,

The lenger it semed;

Among the riche rayes

I rendred a lesson,

To broche hem with a pak-nedle,

And playte hem togideres,

And putte hem in a presse,

And pyne hem therinne,

Til ten yerdes or twelve

Hadde tolled out thrittene. 2900

"My wif was a webbe,

And wollen cloth made;

She spak to spynnesteres

To spynnen it oute,

{90}

Ac the pound that she paied by

Peised a quatron moore

Than myn owene auncer,

Who so weyed truthe.

"I boughte hire barly-malt,

She brew it to selle, 2910

Peny ale and puddyng ale

She poured togideres,

For laborers and for lowe folk

That lay by hymselve.

"The beste ale lay in my bour,

Or in my bed-chambre;

And who so bummed therof,

Boughte it therafter,

A galon for a grote,

God woot, no lesse! 2920

And yet it cam in cuppe-mele,

This craft my wif used.

Rose the Regrater

Was hire righte name;

She hath holden hukkerye

Al hire lif tyme.

Ac I swere now, so thee ik!

That synne wol I lete,

And nevere wikkedly weye,

Ne wikke chaffare use; 2930

But wenden to Walsyngham,

And my wif als,

And bidde the Roode of Bromholm

Brynge me out of dette."

"Repentedestow evere?" quod Repentaunce,

"Or restitucion madest."

"Yis, ones I was y-herberwed," quod he,

{91}

"With an heep of chapmen,

I roos whan thei were a-reste

And riflede hire males." 2940

"That was no restitucion," quod Repentaunce,

"But a robberis thefte;

Thow haddest be the bettre worthi

Ben hanged therfore,

Than for al that

That thow hast here shewed."

"I wende riflynge were restitucion," quod he,

"For I lerned nevere rede on boke;

And I kan no Frensshe, in feith,

But of the fertheste ende of Northfolk." 2950

"Usedestow evere usurie?" quod Repentaunce,

"In al thi lif tyme."

"Nay sothly," he seide,

"Save in my youthe

I lerned among Lumbardes

And Jewes a lesson,

To weye pens with a peis,

And pare the hevyeste,

And lene it for love of the cros,

To legge a wed and lese it. 2960

Swiche dedes I dide write,

If he his day breke,

I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages,

Than thorugh _miseretur et commodat_.

"I have lent lordes

And ladies my chaffare,

And ben hire brocour after,

And bought it myselve;

{92}

Eschaunges and chevysaunces

With swich chaffare I dele, 2970

And lene folk that lese wole

A lippe at every noble,

And with Lumbardes lettres

I ladde gold to Rome,

And took it by tale here,

And tolde hem there lasse."

"Lentestow evere lordes,

For love of hire mayntenaunce?"

"Ye, I have lent to lordes,

Loved me nevere after, 2980

And have y-maad many a knyght

Bothe mercer and draper,

That payed nevere for his prentishode

Noght a peire gloves."

"Hastow pité on povere men,

That mote nedes borwe?"

"I have as muche pité of povere men,

As pedlere hath of cattes,

That wolde kille hem, if he cacche hem myghte,

For coveitise of hir skynnes." 2990

"Artow manlich among thi neghebores

Of thi mete and drynke?"

"I am holden," quod he, "as hende

As hound is in kichene,

Amonges my neghebores, namely,

Swiche a name ich have."

"Now God lene thee nevere," quod Repentaunce,

"But thow repente the rather,

The grace on this grounde

{93}

Thi good wel to bi-sette, 3000

Ne thyne heires after thee

Have joie of that thow wynnest,

Ne thyne executours wel bi-sette

The silver that thow hem levest;

And that was wonne with wrong

With wikked men be despended.

For were I frere of that hous

Ther good feith and charité is,

I nolde cope us with thi catel,

Ne oure kirk amende, 3010

Ne have a peny to my pitaunce,

So God my soule save!

For the beste book in oure hous,

Theigh brent gold were the leves,

And I wiste witterly

Thow were swich as thow tellest.

_Servus es alterius,

Dum fercula pinguia quæris;

Pane tuo potius

Vescere, liber eris._ 3020

"Thow art an unkynde creature,

I kan thee noght assoille,

Til thow make restitucion

And rekene with hem alle;

And sithen that Reson rolle it

In the registre of hevene,

That thow hast maad ech man good,

I may thee noght assoile.

_Non dimittitur peccatum, donec restituatur

oblatum._ 3030

"For alle that han of thi good,

Have God my trouthe!

Ben holden at the heighe doom

{94}

To helpe thee to restitue;

And who so leveth noght this be sooth,

Loke in the Sauter glose,

In _Miserere mei, Deus_,

Wher I mene truthe;

_Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti, etc._

Shal nevere werkman in this world 3040

Thryve with that thow wynnest.

_Cum sancto sanctus eris;_

Construwe me this on Englisshe."

Thanne weex that sherewe in wanhope,

And wolde han hanged hym;

Ne hadde Repentaunce the rather

Reconforted hym in this manere.

"Have mercy in thi mynde,

And with thi mouth biseche it;

For Goddes mercy is moore 3050

Than alle hise othere werkes.

And al the wikkednesse in this world

That man myghte werche or thynke,

Nis na-moore to the mercy of God,

Than in the see a gleede.

_Omnis iniquitas quantum ad misericordiam

Dei, est quasi scintilla

in medio maris._

"For-thi have mercy in thy mynde,

And marchaundise leve it; 3060

For thow hast no good ground

To gete thee with a wastel,

But if it were with thi tonge,

Or ellis with thi two hondes.

For the good that thow hast geten

Bigan al with falshede,

And as longe as thow lyvest therwith,

{95}

Thow yeldest noght, but borwest.

"And if thow wite nevere to whiche,

Ne whom to restitue, 3070

Ber it to the bisshope,

And bid hym of his grace

Bi-sette it hymself,

As best is for thi soule;

For he shal answere for thee

At the heighe dome,

For thee and for many mo

That man shal yeve a rekenyng,

What he lerned yow in Lente,

Leve thow noon oother, 3080

And what he lente yow of oure Lordes good

To lette yow fro synne."

Now bi-gynneth Gloton

For to go to shrifte,

And karieth hym to kirke-warde

His coupe to shewe;

And Beton the brewestere

Bad hym good morwe,

And asked at hym with that,

Whider-ward he wolde. 3090

"To holy chirche," quod he,

"For to here masse,

And sithen I wole be shryven,

And synne na-moore."

"I have good ale, gossib," quod she,

"Gloton, woltow assaye?"

"Hastow ought in thi purs?" quod he,

"Any hote spices?"

"I have pepir and piones," quod she,

"And a pound of garleek, 3100

And a ferthyng-worth of fenel-seed

{96}

For fastynge dayes."

Thanne goth Glotin in,

And grete othes after.

Cesse the souteresse

Sat on the benche;

Watte the warner,

And his wif bothe;

Tymme the tynkere,

And tweyne of his prentices; 3110

Hikke the hakeney-man,

And Hughe the nedlere;

Clarice of Cokkeslane,

And the clerk of the chirche;

Dawe the dykere,

And a dozeyne othere.

Sire Piers of Pridie,

And Pernele of Flaundres;

A ribibour, a ratoner,

A rakiere of Chepe, 3120

A ropere, a redyng-kyng,

And Rose the dyssheres;

Godefray of Garlekhithe,

And Griffyn the Walshe;

And upholderes an heep,

Erly by the morwe,

Geve Gloton with glad chere

Good ale to hanselle.

Clement the Cobelere

Caste of his cloke, 3130

And at the newe feire

He nempned it to selle,

Hikke the hakeney-man

Hitte his hood after,

And bad Bette the bocher

{97}

Ben on his syde.

Ther were chapmen y-chose

This chaffare to preise,

That who so hadde the hood

Sholde han amendes of the cloke. 3140

Two risen up in rape,

And rouned togideres,

And preised thise peny-worthes

A-part by hemselve;

Thei kouthe noght by hir conscience

Acorden in truthe,

Til Robyn the ropere

Aroos by the southe,

And nempned hym for a nounpere,

That no debat nere. 3150

Hikke the hostiler

Hadde the cloke,

In covenaunt that Clement

Sholde the cuppe fille,

And have Hikkes hood hostiler,

And holden hym y-served.

And who so repented rathest

Sholde aryse after,

And greten sire Gloton

With a galon ale. 3160

There was laughynge and lourynge,

And "lat go the cuppe;"

And seten so till even-song,

And songen umwhile,

Til Gloton hadde y-glubbed

A galon and a gille.

Hise guttes bigonne to gothelen

As two gredy sowes;

He pissed a potel

{98}

In a pater-noster while, 3170

And blew his rounde ruwet

At his rugge-bones ende,

That alle that herde that horn

Held hir noses after,

And wisshed it hadde been wexed

With a wispe of firses.

He myghte neither steppe ne stonde,

Er he his staf hadde;

And thanne gan he to go

Like a gle-mannes bicche, 3180

Som tyme aside,

And som tyme arere,

As who so leith lynes

For to lacche foweles.

And whan he drough to the dore,

Thanne dymmed his eighen;

He stumbled on the thresshfold,

And threw to the erthe.

Clement the cobelere

Kaughte hym by the myddel, 3190

For to liften hym o-lofte;

And leyde hym on his knowes.

Ac Gloton was a gret cherl,

And a grym in the liftyng,

And koughed up a cawdel

In Clementes lappe;

Is noon so hungry hound

In Hertford shire

Dorste lape of that levynges,

So un-lovely thei smaughte. 3200

With al the wo of this world,

His wif and his wenche

Baren hym hom to his bed,

{99}

And broughte hym therinne;

And after al this excesse

He hadde an accidie,

That he sleep Saterday and Sonday,

Til sonne yede to reste.

Thanne waked he of his wynkyng,

And wiped hise eighen; 3210

The firste word that he warpe

Was "where is the bolle?"

His wif gan edwyte hym tho,

How wikkedly he lyvede;

And Repentaunce right so

Rebuked hym that tyme,

"As thow with wordes and werkes

Has wroght yvele in thi lyve,

Shryve thee, and be shamed therof,

And shewe it with thi mouthe." 3220

"I Gloton," quod the grom,

"Gilty me yelde,

That I have trespased with my tonge,

I kan noght telle how ofte;

Sworen Goddes soule,

And so me God helpe!

There no nede was,

Nyne hundred tymes.

"And over-seyen me at my soper,

And som tyme at nones, 3230

That I Gloton girte it up

Er I hadde gon a myle,

An y-spilt that myghte be spared

And spended on som hungry;

Over delicatly on fastyng-dayes

Dronken and eten bothe,

And sat som tyme so longe there,

{100}

That I sleep and eet at ones.

For love of tales in tavernes

And for drynke, the moore I dyned; 3240

And hyed to the mete er noon,

Whan fastyng-days were."

"This shewynge shrift," quod Repentaunce,

"Shal be meryt to the."

And thanne gan Gloton greete,

And gret doel to make,

For his luther lif

That he lyved hadde;

And avowed to faste,

"For hunger or for thurste, 3250

Shal nevere fyssh on Fryday

Defyen in my wombe,

Til abstinence myn aunte

Have gyve me leeve;

And yet have I hated hire

Al my lif tyme."

Thanne cam Sleuthe al bi-slabered,

With two slymy eighen;

"I moste sitte," seide the segge,

"Or ellis sholde I nappe. 3260

I may noght stonde ne stoupe,

Ne withoute a stool knele;

Were I brought a-bedde,

But if my tail-ende it made,

Sholde no ryngynge do me ryse

Er I were ripe to dyne."

He bigan Benedicite with a bolk,

And his brest knokked,

And raxed and rored,

And rutte at the laste. 3270

{101}

"What, awake, renk!" quod Repentaunce,

"And rape thee to shryfte."

"If I sholde deye bi this day,

Me list nought to loke;

I kan noght parfitly my pater-noster,

As the preest it syngeth;

But I kan rymes of Robyn Hood,

And Randolf erl of Chestre;

Ac neither of oure Lord ne of oure Lady

The leeste that evere was maked. 3280

"I have maad avowes fourty,

And foryete hem on the morwe;

I perfournede nevere penaunce

As the preest me highte;

Ne right sory for my synnes

Yet was I nevere.

And if I bidde any bedes,

But if it be in wrathe,

That I telle with my tonge

Is two myle fro myn herte. 3290

I am ocupied eche day,

Haly-day and oother,

With ydel tales at the ale,

And outher while at chirche;

Goddes peyne and his passion

Ful selde thenke I on it.

"I visited nevere feble men,

Ne fettred folk in puttes;

I have levere here an harlotrye,

Or a somer game of souters, 3300

Or lesynge to laughen at

And bi-lye my neghebores,

Than al that evere Marc made,

{102}

Mathew, Johan, and Lucas.

And vigilies and fastyng-dayes,

Alle thise late I passe;

And ligge a-bedde in Lenten,

And my lemman in myne armes,

Til matyns and masse be do,

And thanne go to the freres. 3310

Come I to _Ite, missa est_,

I holde me y-served;

I nam noght shryven som tyme,

But if siknesse it make,

Nought twyes in two yer,

And thanne up gesse I shryve me.

"I have be preest and parson

Passynge thritty wynter,

And yet can I neyther solne ne synge,

Ne seintes lyves rede; 3320

But I kan fynden in a feld,

Or in a furlang, an hare,

Bettre than in _Beatus vir,

Or in Beati omnes_,

Construe oon clause wel

And kenne it to my parisshens.

I kan holde love-dayes,

And here a reves rekenyng;

Ac in canon nor in decretals

I kan noght rede a lyne. 3330

"If I bigge and borwe aught,

But if it be y-tailed,

I foryete it as yerne;

And if men me it axe

Sixe sithes or sevene,

I forsake it with othes;

And thus tene I trewe men

{103}

Ten hundred tymes.

"And my servauntz som tyme

Hir salarie is bi-hynde; 3340

Ruthe it is to here the rekenyng,

Whan we shul rede acountes.

So with wikked wil and wrathe,

My werkmen I paye.

"If any man dooth me a bienfait,

Or helpeth me at nede,

I am unkynde ayeins curteisie,

And kan nought understounden it;

For I have and have had

Som del haukes maneres, 3350

I am noght lured with love,

But ther ligge aught under the thombe.

"The kyndenesse that myn even cristene

Kidde me fernyere,

Sixty sithes I Sleuthe

Have foryete it siththe.

In speche and in sparynge of speche

Y-spilt many a tyme

Bothe flessh and fissh,

And manye othere vitailles, 3360

Both bred and ale,

Buttre, melk, and chese,

For-sleuthed in my service

Til it myghte serve no man.

"I ran aboute in youthe,

And yaf me naught to lerne,

And evere siththe have I be beggere

For my foule sleuthe.

_Heu michi! quia sterilem vitam duxi

juvenilem._" 3370

"Repentedestow noght?" quod Repentaunce;

{104}

And right with that he swowned,

Til _Vigilate_ the veille

Fette water at hise eighen,

And flatte it on his face,

And faste on hym cryde,

And seide, "Ware thee, for Wanhope

Wolde thee bi-traye,

'I am sory for my synnes'

Seye to thiselve, 3380

And beet thiself on the brest,

And bidde hym of grace;

For is ne gilt here so gret

That his goodnesse nys moore."

Thanne sat Sleuthe up,

And seyned hym swithe,

And made a vow to-fore God

For his foule sleuthe.

"Shal no Sonday be this seven yer,

But siknesse it lette, 3390

That I ne shal do me er day

To the deere chirche;

And here matyns and masse,

As I a monk were,

Shal noon ale after mete

Holde me thennes,

Til I have even-song herd,

I bi-hote to the roode!

And yet wole I yelde ayein,

If I so much have, 3400

Al that I wikkedly wan

Sithen I wit hadde.

"And though my liflode lakke,

Leten I nelle,

That ech man ne shal have his,

{105}

Er I hennes wende;

And with the residue and the remenaunt,

Bi the Rode of Chestre!

I shal seken Truthe erst

Er I se Rome." 3410

Roberd the robbere

On _Reddite_ loked,

And for ther was noght wherof,

He wepte swithe soore;

Ac yet the synfulle sherewe

Seide to hymselve,

"Crist, that on Calvarie

Upon the cros deidest,

Tho Dysmas my brother

Bi-soughte yow of grace, 3420

And haddest mercy on that man

For _memento_ sake,

So rewe on this robbere

That _reddere_ ne have,

Ne nevere wene to wynne

With craft that I owe;

But for thi muchel mercy

Mitigacion I bi-seche,

Ne dampne me noght at domes-day

For that I dide so ille." 3430

What bi-fel of this feloun

I kan noght faire shewe;

Wel I woot he wepte faste

Water with bothe hise eighen,

And knoweliched his gilt

To Crist yet eft soones,

That _Poenetentia_ his pik

He sholde polshe newe,

And lepe with hym over lond

{106}

Al his lif tyme, 3440

For he hadde leyen by _Latro_

Luciferis aunte.

And thanne hadde Repentaunce ruthe,

And redde hem alle to knele;

"For I shal bi-seche for alle synfulle

Our Saveour of grace,

To amenden us of oure mysdedes,

And do mercy to us alle."

"Now God," quod he, "that of thi goodnesse

Bi-gonne the world to make, 3450

And of naught madest aught, and man

Moost lik to thiselve,

And sithen suffredest for to synne,

A siknesse to us alle,

And al for the beste, as I bi-leve,

What evere the book telleth.

_O felix culpa! O necessarium peccatum Adæ! etc._ =

"For thorugh that synne thi sone

Sent was to this erthe, 3460

And bicam man of a maide,

Mankynde to save:

And madest thiself with thi sone

And us synfulle y-liche

_Faciamus hominem ad imaginem

nostram. Et alibi. Qui manet

in caritate, in Deo manet, et

Deus in eo._

"And siththe with thi selve sone

In oure secte deidest, 3470

On Good-Fryday, for mannes sake,

At ful tyme of the daye,

{107}

Ther thiself ne thi sone

No sorwe in deeth feledest,

But in oure secte was the sorwe,

And thi sone it ladde.

_Captivam duxit captivitatem._

"The sonne for sorwe therof

Lees light of a tyme,

Aboute mydday whan moost light is, 3480

And meel-tyme of seintes,

Feddest with thi fresshe blood

Oure fore-fadres in derknesse.

_Populus qui ambulabat in tenebris,

vidit lucem magnam._

"And thorugh the light that lepe out of thee

Lucifer was blent.

And blewe alle thi blessed

Into the blisse of paradys.

"The thridde day after 3490

Thow yedest in oure sute,

A synful Marie the seigh,

Er seynte Marie thi dame;

And al to solace synfulle

Thow suffredest it so were.

_Non veni vocare justos sed peccatores

ad poenitentiam._

"And al that Marc hath y-maad,

Mathew, Johan, and Lucas,

Of thyne doughty dedes 3500

Was doon in oure armes.

_Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis._ =

"And by so muche me semeth

The sikerer we mowe

Bidde and bi-seche,

{108}

If it be thi wille,

That art oure fader and oure brother,

Be merciable to us,

And have ruthe on thise ribaudes 3510

That repenten hem here soore,

That evere thei wrathed thee in this world,

In word, thought, or dedes."

Thanne hent Hope an horn

Of _Deus, tu conversus vivificabis_,

And blew it with _Beati quorum

Remissæ sunt iniquitates_,

That alle seintes in hevene

Songen at ones.

_Homines et jumenta salvabis, quemadmodum 3520

multiplicasti misericordiam tuam._ =

A thousand of men tho

Thrungen togideres,

Cride upward to Crist,

And to his clene moder,

To have grace to go with hem

Truthe to seke.

Ac there was wight noon so wys

The wey thider kouthe, 3530

But blustreden forth as beestes

Over bankes and hilles;

Til late was and longe

That thei a leode mette,

Apparailled as a paynym

In pilgrymes wise.

He bar a burdoun y-bounde

With a brood liste,

In a withwynde wise

Y-wounden aboute; 3540

{109}

A bolle and a bagge

He bar by his syde,

And hundred of ampulles

On his hat seten,

Signes of Synay,

And shelles of Galice,

And many a crouche on his cloke,

And keyes of Rome,

And the vernycle bi-fore,

For men sholde knowe 3550

And se bi hise signes

Whom he sought hadde.

This folk frayned hym first,

Fro whennes he come.

"Fram Syny," he seide,

"And fram oure Lordes sepulcre;

In Bethlem and in Babiloyne,

I have ben in bothe;

In Armonye and Alisaundre,

In manye othere places. 3560

Ye may se by my signes,

That sitten on myn hatte,

That I have walked ful wide

In weet and in drye,

And sought goode seintes

For my soules helthe."

"Knowestow aught a corsaint,

That men calle Truthe?

Koudestow aught wissen us the wey,

Wher that wye dwelleth?" 3570

"Nay, so me God helpe!"

Seide the gome thanne,

"I seigh nevere palmere,

With pyk ne with scrippe,

{110}

Asken after hym er

Til now in this place."

"Peter!" quod a plowman,

And putte forth his hed,

"I knowe hym as kyndely

As clerk doth hise bokes; 3580

Conscience and kynde wit

Kenned me to his place,

And diden me suren hym sikerly

To serven hym for evere,

Bothe to sowe and to sette,

The while I swynke myghte.

I have ben his folwere

Al this fifty wynter,

Bothe y-sowen his seed,

And suwed hise beestes, 3590

Withinne and withouten

Waited his profit.

I dyke and I delve,

I do that Truthe hoteth;

Som tyme I sowe,

And som tyme I thresshe;

In taillours craft and tynkeris craft,

What Truthe kan devyse,

I weve and I wynde,

And do what Truthe hoteth, 3600

For though I seye it myselfe,

I serve hym to paye;

I have myn hire wel,

And outher whiles moore.

He is the presteste paiere

That povere men knoweth;

He ne withhalt noon hewe his hire,

That he ne hath it at even;

{111}

He is as lowe as a lomb,

And lovelich of speche; 3610

And if ye wilneth to wite

Where that he dwelleth,

I shal wisse you witterly

The wey to his place."

"Ye, leve Piers," quod thise pilgrimes,

And profred hym huyre,

For to wende with hem

To Truthes dwellyng-place.

"Nay, by my soules helpe!" quod Piers,

And gan for to swere, 3620

"I nolde fange a ferthyng.

For seint Thomas shryne;

Truthe wolde love me the lasse

A long tyme therafter;

Ac if yow wilneth to wende wel,

This is the wey thider.

"Ye moten go thorugh Mekenesse,

Both men and wyves,

Til ye come into Conscience,

That Crist wite the sothe 3630

That ye loven oure Lord God

Levest of alle thynges,

And thanne youre neghebores next

In none wise apeire,

Other wise than thow woldest

He wroughte to thiselve.

"And so boweth forth by a brook,

Beth-buxom-of-speche,

Til he fynden a ford,

Youre-fadres-honoureth, 3640

_Honora patrem et matrem, etc._

Wadeth in that water,

{112}

And wasshe yow wel therinne,

And ye shul lepe the lightloker

Al youre lif tyme;

And so shaltow se Swere-noght,-

But-if-it-be-for-nede,-

And-nameliche-on-ydel-

The-name-of-God-almyghty.

"Thanne shaltow come by a croft, 3650

But come thow noght therinne;

That croft hatte Coveite-noght-

Mennes-catel-ne-hire-wyves,-

Ne-noon-of-hire-servauntz-

That-noyen-hem-myghte;

Loke ye breke no bowes there,

But if it be youre owene.

"Two stokkes ther stondeth,

Ac stynte ye noght there,

Thei highte Stele-noght and Sle-noght, 3660

Strik forth by bothe,

And leve hem on thi lift half,

And loke noght therafter,

And hold wel thyn hali-day

Heighe til even.

"Thanne shaltow blenche at a bergh,

Bere-no-fals-witnesse,

He is frythed in with floryns

And othere fees manye;

Loke thow plukke no plaunte there, 3670

For peril of thi soule;

Thanne shul ye see Seye-sooth,-

So-it-be-to-doone,-

In-good-manere,-ellis-noght-

For-no-mannes-biddyng.

"Thanne shaltow come to a court

{113}

As cler as the sonne;

The moot is of Mercy

The manoir aboute,

And alle the walles ben of Wit, 3680

To holden Wil oute,

And kerneled wit Cristendom,

Mankynde to save,

Botrased with Bileef-so,-

Or-thow-beest-noght-saved.

"And alle the houses ben hiled,

Halles and chambres,

With no leed but with love,

And lowe speche as bretheren;

The brugg is of Bidde-wel,- 3690

The-bet-may-thow-spede;

Ech piler is of penaunce,

Of preieres to seyntes;

Of almes-dedes are the hokes

That the gates hangen on.

"Grace hatte the gatewarde,

A good man for sothe;

His man hatte Amende-yow,

For many men hym knoweth;

Telleth hym this tokene, 3700

That Truthe wite the sothe;

'I perfourned the penaunce

That the preest me enjoyned,

And am ful sory for my synnes,

And so I shal evere,

Whan I thynke theron,

Theigh I were a pope.'

"Biddeth Amende-yow meke hym

Til his maister ones,

To wayven up the wiket 3710

{114}

That the womman shette,

Tho Adam and Eve

Eten apples un-rosted.

_Per Evam cunctis clausa est, et per

Mariam virginem patefacta est._

"For he hath the keye and the cliket,

Though the kyng slepe.

And if grace graunte thee

To go in this wise,

Thow shalt see in thiselve 3720

Truthe in thyn herte,

In a cheyne of charité

As thow a child were,

To suffren hym and segge noght

Ayein thi sires wille.

"And be war thanne of Wrathe-thee,

That is a wikked sherewe;

He hath envye to hym

That in thyn herte sitteth,

And poketh forth pride 3730

To preise thiselven.

The boldnesse of thi bienfetes

Maketh thee blynd thanne;

And thanne worstow dryven out as dew,

And the dore closed,

Keyed and cliketted,

To kepe thee withouten;

Happily an hundred wynter

Er thow eft entre.

Thus myghtestow lesen his love, 3740

To lete wel by thiselve,

And nevere happily eft entre,

But grace thow have.

"And ther are seven sustren

{115}

That serven Truthe evere,

And arn porters of the posternes

That to the place longeth.

"That oon hatte Abstinence,

And Humilité another;

Charité and Chastité 3750

Ben hise chief maydenes;

Pacience and Pees

Muche peple thei helpeth;

Largenesse the lady,

She let in ful manye,

Heo hath holpe a thousand out

Of the develes punfolde;

And who is sib to thise sevene,

So me God helpe!

He is wonderly welcome, 3760

And faire underfongen.

And but if ye be sibbe

To some of thise sevene,

It is ful hard, by myn heed!" quod Piers,

"For any of yow alle

To geten in-going at any gate there,

But grace be the moore."

"Now by Crist!" quod a kutte-purs

"I have no kyn there."

"Nor I," quod an ape-ward, 3770

"By aught that I kan knowe."

"Wite God!" quod a wafrestere,

"Wiste I this for sothe,

Sholde I nevere ferther a foot,

For no freres prechyng."

"Yis," quod Piers the Plowman,

And poked hem alle to goode,

"Mercy is a maiden there

{116}

Hath myght over alle;

And she is sib to alle synfulle, 3780

And hire sone also,

And thorugh the help of hem two

Hope thow noon oother,

Thow myght gete grace there,

So thow go bi-tyme."

"Bi seint Poul!" quod a pardoner,

"Peraventure I be noght knowe there;

I wol go fecche my box with my brevettes,

And a bulle with bisshopes lettres."

"By Crist!" quod a commune womman,

"Thi compaignie wol I folwe;

Thow shalt seye I am thi suster,

I ne woot where thei bicome." 3793

* * * * *

{117}

_Passus Sextus de Visione, ut supra._

"This were a wikkede wey, 3794

But who so hadde a gyde,

That wolde folwen us ech a foot;"

Thus this folke hem mened.

Quod Perkyn the Plowman,

"By seint Peter of Rome!

I have an half acre to erie 3800

By the heighe weye;

Hadde I eryed this half acre,

And sowen it after,

I wolde wende with yow,

And the wey teche."

"This were a long lettyng,"

Quod a lady in scleyre,

"What sholde we wommen

Werche the while?"

"Somme shul sowe the sak," quod Piers, 3810

"For shedyng of the whete;

And ye, lovely ladies,

With youre longe fyngres,

That ye have silk and sandel

To sowe, whan tyme is;

Chesibles for chapeleyns,

Chirches to honoure.

{118}

"Wyves and widewes,

Wolle and flex spynneth;

Maketh cloth, I counseille yow, 3820

And kenneth so youre doughtres;

The nedy and the naked,

Nymeth hede how thei liggeth,

And casteth hem clothes,

For so comaundeth Truthe.

For I shal leven hem liflode,

But if the lond faille,

Flesshe and breed bothe

To riche and to poore,

As long as I lyve, 3830

For the Lordes love of hevene;

And alle manere of men

That thorugh mete and drynke libbeth,

Helpeth hym to werche wightliche,

That wynneth youre foode."

"By Crist!" quod a knyght thoo,

"He kenneth us the beste;

Ac on the teme, trewely,

Taught was I nevere;

But kenne me," quod the knyght, 3840

"And by Crist I wole assaye!"

"By seint Poul!" quod Perkyn,

"Ye profre yow so faire,

That I shal swynke and swete,

And sowe for us bothe,

And othere labours do for thi love

Al my lif tyme,

In covenaunt that thow kepe

Holy kirke and myselve

Fro wastours and fro wikked men 3850

That this world destruyeth.

{119}

And go hunte hardiliche

To hares and to foxes,

To bores and to brokkes

That breken doun myne hegges;

And so affaite thi faucons

Wilde foweles to kille;

For swiche cometh to my croft,

And croppeth my whete."

Curteisly the knyght thanne 3860

Comsed thise wordes;

"By my power, Piers!" quod he,

"I plighte thee my trouthe,

To fulfille this forwarde,

Though I fighte sholde;

Als longe as I lyve

I shal thee mayntene."

"Ye, and yet a point," quod Piers,

"I preye yow of moore,

Loke ye tene no tenaunt, 3870

But Truthe wole assente;

And though ye mowe amercy hem,

Lat mercy be taxour,

And mekenesse thi maister,

Maugree Medes chekes.

And though povere men profre yow

Presentes and giftes,

Nyme it noght, an aventure

Ye mowe it noght deserve;

For thow shalt yelde it ayein 3880

At one yeres tyme,

In a ful perilous place,

Purgatorie it hatte.

"And mys-bede noght thi bonde-men,

The bettre may thow spede;

{120}

Though he be thyn underlyng here,

Wel may happe in hevene

That he worth worthier set,

And with moore blisse.

_Amice, ascende superius._ 3890

For in charnel at chirche

Cherles ben yvel to knowe,

Or a knyght from a knave there,

Knowe this in thyn herte.

And that thow be trewe of thi tonge,

And tales that thow hatie,

But if thei ben of wisdom or of wit

Thi werkmen to chaste.

Hold with none harlotes,

Ne here noght hir tales, 3900

And namely at the mete

Swiche men eschuwe;

For it ben the develes disours,

I do the to understonde."

"I assente, by seint Jame!"

Seide the knyght thanne,

"For to werche by thi wordes

The while my lif dureth."

"And I shal apparaille me," quod Perkyn,

"In pilgrymes wise, 3910

And wende with yow I wile,

Til we fynde Truthe;

And caste on my clothes

Y-clouted and hole,

My cokeres and my coffes,

For cold of my nailes;

And hange myn hoper at myn hals

In stede of a scryppe.

A busshel of bred corn

{121}

Brynge me therinne; 3920

For I wol sowe it myself,

And sithenes wol I wende

To pilgrymage, as palmeres doon,

Pardon for to have.

And who so helpeth me to erie

And sowen here er I wende,

Shal have leve, by oure Lorde!

To lese here in hervest,

And make hem murie thermyd,

Maugree who so bi-gruccheth it. 3930

And alle kynne crafty-men,

That konne lyven in truthe,

I shal fynden hem fode,

That feithfulliche libbeth.

"Save Jagge the jogelour,

And Jonette of the stuwes,

And Danyel the dees-pleyere,

And Denote the baude,

And frere the faitour,

And folk of hire ordre, 3940

And Robyn the ribaudour

For hise rusty wordes.

Truthe tolde me ones,

And bad me telle it after,

_Deleantur de libro viventium_,

I sholde noght dele with hem,

For holy chirche is hote of hem

No tithe to take;

_Qui cum justis non scribantur_;

They ben ascaped good aventure, 3950

God hem amende!"

Dame Werch-whan-tyme-is

Piers wif highte;

{122}

His doughter highte Do-right-so,-

Or-thi-dame-shal-thee-bete;

His sone highte Suffre-thi-sovereyns-

To-haven-hir-wille,-

Deme-hem-noght,-for-if-thow-doost,-

Thow-shalt-it-deere-abugge.

Lat God y-worthe with al, 3960

For so his word techeth;

For now I am old and hoor,

And have of myn owene,

To penaunce and to pilgrimage

I wol passe with thise othere.

"For-thi I wole er I wende

Do write my biqueste,

_In Dei nomine, Amen_,

I make it myselve;

He shal have my soule, 3970

That best hath deserved it;

And fro the fend it defende,

For so I bileve,

Til I come to hise acountes,

As my Credo me telleth,

To have a relees and a remission,

On that rental I leve.

"The kirke shal have my caroyne,

And kepe my bones;

For of my corn and catel 3980

She craved the tithe;

I paide it ful prestly,

For peril of my soule.

For-thi is he holden I hope

To have me in his masse,

And mengen in his memorie

Amonges alle cristene.

{123}

"My wif shal have of that I wan

With truthe, and na-moore,

And dele among my doughtres, 3990

And my deere children;

For though I deye to day,

My dettes are quyte;

I bar hom that I borwed,

Er I to bedde yede.

"And with the residue and the remenaunt,

By the Rode of Lukes!

I wol worshipe therwith

Truthe by my lyve,

And ben his pilgrym atte plow, 4000

For povere mennes sake.

My plow-foot shall be my pikstaf,

And picche a-two the rotes,

And helpe my cultour to kerve

And clense the furwes."

Now is Perkyn and hise pilgrimes

To the plow faren;

To erie his half acre

Holpen hym manye;

Dikeres and delveres 4010

Digged up the balkes.

Therwith was Perkyn a-payed,

And preised hem faste.

Othere werkmen ther were

That wroghten ful yerne;

Ech man in his manere

Made hymself to doone,

And somme to plese Perkyn

Piked up the wedes.

At heigh prime Piers 4020

Leet the plowgh stonde,

{124}

To over-sen hem hymself,

And who so best wroghte

He sholde be hired therafter,

Whan hervest tyme come.

And thanne seten somme,

And songen atte nale,

And holpen ere this half acre

With "How, trolly lolly."

"Now, by the peril of my soule!" quod Piers, 4030

All in pure tene,

"But ye arise the rather

And rape yow to werche,

Shal no greyn that groweth

Glade yow at nede,

And though ye deye for doel,

The devel have that reccheth."

Tho were faitours a-fered,

And feyned hem blynde;

Somme leide hir legges a-liry, 4040

As swiche losels konneth,

And made hir mone to Piers,

And preide hym of grace;

"For we have no lymes to laboure with,

Lord, y-graced be the;

Ac we preie for yow, Piers,

And for youre plowgh bothe,

That God of his grace

Youre greyn multiplie,

And yelde yow for youre almesse 4050

That ye gyve us here;

For we may noght swynke ne swete,

Swich siknesse us eyleth."

"If it be sooth," quod Piers, "that ye seyn,

I shal it soone aspie.

{125}

Ye ben wastours, I woot wel,

And Truthe woot the sothe;

And I am his olde hyne,

And highte hym to warne,

Whiche thei were in this world 4060

Hise werkmen apeired.

Ye wasten that men wynnen

With travaille and with tene;

Ac Truthe shal teche yow

His teme to dryve,

Or ye shul eten barley breed,

And of the broke drynke.

"But if he be blynd or broke-legged,

Or bolted with irens,

He shall ete whete breed, 4070

And drynke with myselve,

Til God of his goodnesse

Amendement hym sende.

Ac ye myghte travaille, as Truthe wolde,

And take mete and hyre,

To kepe kyen in the feld,

The corn fro the beestes,

Diken or delven,

Or dyngen upon sheves,

Or helpe make morter, 4080

Or bere muk a-feld.

"In lecherie and in losengerie

Ye lyven, and in sleuthe;

And al is thorugh suffraunce,

That vengeaunce yow ne taketh.

"Ac ancres and heremites

That eten noght but at nones,

And na-moore er the morwe,

Myn almesse shul thei have,

{126}

And of catel to kepe hem with, 4090

That han cloistres and chirches.

"Ac Robert Renaboute

Shal noght have of myne,

Ne postles, but thei preche konne

And have power of the bisshope;

Thei shul have payn and potage,

And make hemself at ese,

For it is an unreasonable religion

That hath right noght of certein."

And thanne gan Wastour to wrathen hym, 4100

And wolde have y-foughte;

And to Piers the Plowman

He profrede his glove;

A bretoner, a braggere,

A-bosted Piers als,

And bad hym go pissen with his plowgh,

"For-pynede sherewe!

Wiltow or neltow,

We wol have oure wille

Of thi flour and of thi flesshe, 4110

Fecche whanne us liketh;

And maken us murye thermyde,

Maugree thi chekes."

Thanne Piers the Plowman

Pleyned hym to the knyghte,

To kepen hym as covenaunt was

Fro cursede sherewes,

And fro thise wastours wolves-kynnes

That maketh the world deere;

"For tho wasten and wynnen noght, 4120

And that ilke while

Worth nevere plentee among the peple,

{127}

The while my plowgh liggeth."

Curteisly the knyght thanne,

As his kynde wolde,

Warnede Wastour,

And wissed hym bettre,

"Or thow shalt abigge by the lawe,

By the ordre that I bere!"

"I was noght wont to werche," quod Wastour, 4130

"And now wol I noght bigynne;"

And leet light of the lawe,

And lasse of the knyghte;

And sette Piers at a pese,

And his plowgh bothe;

And manaced Piers and his men,

If thei mette eft soone.

"Now, by the peril of my soule!" quod Piers,

"I shal apeire yow alle;"

And houped after Hunger, 4140

That herde hym at the firste,

"A-wreke me of thise wastours," quod he,

"That this world shendeth."

Hunger in haste thoo

Hente Wastour by the wombe,

And wrong him so by the wombe,

That bothe hise eighen watrede.

He buffeted the bretoner

Aboute the chekes,

That he loked lik a lanterne 4150

Al his lif after.

He bette hem so bothe,

He brast ner hire guttes;

Ne hadde Piers with a pese loof

{128}

Preyed Hunger to cesse,

They hadde be dolven,

Ne deme thow noon oother.

"Suffre hem lyve," he seide,

"And lat hem ete with hogges,

Or ellis benes or bren 4160

Y-baken togideres,

Or ellis melk and mene ale;"

Thus preied Piers for hem.

Faitours for fere herof

Flowen into bernes,

And flapten on with flailes

Fro morwe til even;

That Hunger was noght so hardy

On hem for to loke,

For a potful of peses 4170

That Piers hadde y-maked.

An heep of heremytes

Henten hem spades,

And kitten hir copes,

And courtepies hem maked,

And wente as werkmen

With spades and with shoveles

And dolven and dikeden,

To dryve awey hunger.

Blynde and bed-reden 4180

Were bootned a thousande,

That seten to begge silver,

Soone were thei heeled;

For that was bake for bayarde,

Was boote for many hungry;

And many a beggere for benes

Buxum was to swynke;

And eche a povere man wel a-paied

{129}

To have pesen for his hyre,

And what Piers preide hem to do, 4190

As prest as a sperhauk;

And therof was Piers proud,

And putte hem to werke,

And yaf hem mete as he myghte aforthe,

And mesurable hyre.

Thanne had Piers pité,

And preide Hunger to wende

Hoom unto his owene yerd,

And holden hym there;

"For I am wel a-wroke 4200

Of wastours, thorugh thy myghte.

Ac I preie thee, er thow passe,"

Quod Piers to Hunger,

"Of beggeris and of bidderis

What best be to doone.

For I woot wel, be thow went,

Thei wol werche ful ille;

For meschief it maketh

Thei be so meke nouthe,

And for defaute of hire foode 4210

This folk is at my wille.

"Thei are my blody bretheren," quod Piers,

"For God boughte us alle.

Truthe taughte me ones

To loven hem echone;

And to helpen hem of alle thyng

Ay as hem nedeth.

And now wolde I wite of thee

What were the beste;

And how I myghte a-maistren hem, 4220

And make hem to werche."

{130}

"Here now," quod Hunger,

"And hoold it for a wisdom;

Bolde beggeris and bigge

That mowe hir breed bi-swynke,

With houndes breed and horse breed

Hoold up hir hertes;

A-bate hem with benes,

For bollynge of hir wombes;

And if the gomes grucche, 4230

Bidde hem go swynke,

And he shal soupe swetter

Whan he it hath deserved.

"And if thow fynde any freke

That fortune hath apeired,

Or any manere false men,

Fonde thow swiche to knowe;

Conforte hym with thi catel,

For Cristes love of hevene;

Love hem and leve hem, 4240

So lawe of God techeth,

_Alter alterius onera portare._

"And alle manere of men

That thow myght aspie,

That nedy ben and noughty,

Help hem with thi goodes;

Love hem and lakke hem noght,

Lat God take the vengeaunce;

Theigh thei doon yvele,

Lat God y-worthe. 4250

_Mihi vindictam, et ego retribuam._

"And if thow wilt be gracious to God,

Do as the gospel techeth,

And bi-love thee amonges lewed men,

So shaltow lacche grace;

{131}

_Facite vos amicos de Mammone iniquitatis._" =

"I wolde noght greve God," quod Piers,

"For al the good on grounde.

Mighte I synne-lees do as thow seist?" 4260

Seide Piers thanne.

"Ye, I bi-hote thee," quod Hunger,

"Or ellis the Bible lieth;

Go to Genesis the geaunt,

The engendrour of us alle:

_In sudore_ and swynk

Thow shalt thi mete tilie,

And laboure for thi liflode,

And so oure Lorde highte.

And Sapience seith the same, 4270

I seigh it in the Bible,

_Piger præ frigore_

No feeld nolde tilie,

And therfore he shal begge and bidde,

And no man bete his hunger.

"Mathew with mannes face

Mouthed thise wordes,

That _servus nequam_ hadde a mnam,

And for he wolde noght chaffare,

He hadde maugree of his maister 4280

Evere moore after,

And by-nam hym his mnam,

For he ne wolde werche,

And yaf that mnam to hym

That ten mnames hadde;

And with that he seide,

That holy chirche it herde,

He that hath shal have

And helpe there it nedeth;

{132}

And he that noght hath shal noght have, 4290

And no man hym helpe,

And that he weneth wel to have

I wole it hym bi-reve.

Kynde wit wolde

That ech a wight wroghte,

Or in dikynge or in delvynge,

Or travaillynge in preieres;

Contemplatif lif or actif lif

Crist wolde thei wroghte.

The Sauter seith in the Psalme 4300

Of _Beati omnes_,

The freke that fedeth hymself

With his feithful labour,

He is blessed by the book

In body and in soule."

_Labores manuum tuarum, etc._

"Yet I preie yow," quod Piers,

"_Par charité_, and ye konne

Any leef of leche-craft,

Lere it me, my deere; 4310

For some of my servauntz,

And myself bothe,

Of al a wike werche noght,

So oure wombe aketh."

"I woot wel," quod Hunger,

"What siknesse yow eyleth;

Ye han manged over muche,

And that maketh yow grone.

Ac I hote thee," quod Hunger,

"As thow thyn hele wilnest, 4320

That thow drynke no day

Er thow dyne som what.

Ete noght, I hote thee,

{133}

Er hunger thee take,

And sende thee of his sauce

To savore with thi lippes;

And keep som til soper-tyme,

And sitte noght to longe,

And rys up er appetit

Have eten his fille. 4330

Lat noght sire Surfet

Sitten at thi borde.

Leve hym noght, for he is lecherous,

And likerous of tunge,

And after many maner metes

His mawe is a-fyngred.

"And if thow diete thee thus,

I dar legge myne eris,

That Phisik shal hise furred hodes

For his fode selle, 4340

And his cloke of Calabre,

With alle the knappes of golde,

And be fayn, by my feith!

His phisik to lete,

And lerne to laboure with lond,

For liflode is swete.

For murthereris are manye leches,

Lord hem amende!

They do men deye thorugh hir drynkes,

Er destynee it wolde." 4350

"By seint Poul!" quod Piers,

"Thise arn profitable wordes!

Wend now, Hunger, whan thow wolt,

That wel be thow evere!

For this is a lovely lesson,

Lord it thee for-yelde!"

"Bi-hote God!" quod Hunger,

{134}

"Hennes ne wole I wende,

Til I have dyned bi this day,

And y-dronke bothe." 4360

"I have no peny," quod Piers,

"Pulettes to bugge,

Ne neither gees ne grys,

But two grene cheses,

A fewe cruddes and creme,

And an haver cake,

And two loves of benes and bran

Y-bake for my fauntes;

And yet I seye, by my soule!

I have no salt bacon, 4370

Ne no cokeney, by Crist!

Coloppes for to maken.

"Ac I have percile and porettes,

And manye cole plauntes,

And ek a cow and a calf,

And a cart mare

To drawe a-feld my donge,

The while the droghte lasteth;

And by this liflode we mote lyve

Til Lammesse tyme. 4380

And by that, I hope to have

Hervest in my crofte,

And thanne may I dighte thi dyner,

As me deere liketh."

Al the povere peple tho

Pescoddes fetten,

Benes and baken apples

Thei broghte in hir lappes,

Chibolles and chervelles,

And ripe chiries manye, 4390

And profrede Piers this present

{135}

To plese with Hunger.

Al Hunger eet in haste,

And axed after moore.

Thanne povere folk, for fere,

Fedden Hunger yerne,

With grene poret and pesen,

To poisone hym thei thoghte.

By that it neghed neer hervest,

And newe corn cam to chepyng; 4400

Thanne was folk fayn,

And fedde Hunger with the beste,

With goode ale, as Gloton taghte,

And garte Hunger go slepe.

And tho wolde Wastour noght werche,

But wandren aboute,

Ne no beggere ete breed

That benes inne were,

But of coket and cler-matyn,

Or ellis of clene whete; 4410

Ne noon halfpeny ale

In none wise drynke,

But of the beste and of the brunneste

That in burghe is to selle.