"NextAvaricecame: but how he look'd, to say,Words do I want that rightly shall portray:Like leathern purse his shrivell'd cheeks did shew,Thick lipp'd, with two blear eyes and beetle brow:In a torn threadbare tabard was he clad,Which twelve whole winters now in wear he had;French scarlet 'twas, its colour well it kept,So smooth that louse upon its surface crept."
"NextAvaricecame: but how he look'd, to say,Words do I want that rightly shall portray:Like leathern purse his shrivell'd cheeks did shew,Thick lipp'd, with two blear eyes and beetle brow:In a torn threadbare tabard was he clad,Which twelve whole winters now in wear he had;French scarlet 'twas, its colour well it kept,So smooth that louse upon its surface crept."
"NextAvaricecame: but how he look'd, to say,
Words do I want that rightly shall portray:
Like leathern purse his shrivell'd cheeks did shew,
Thick lipp'd, with two blear eyes and beetle brow:
In a torn threadbare tabard was he clad,
Which twelve whole winters now in wear he had;
French scarlet 'twas, its colour well it kept,
So smooth that louse upon its surface crept."
It will be necessary, in conclusion, to say a few words on the edition now offered to the public. Without taking into consideration the inaccuracies and imperfections of Whitaker's edition, its inconvenient size and high price made it altogether inaccessible to the general reader; and there appeared to be a wish for one in a more convenient and less expensive form. At the same time it was desired that a good text of a work so important for the history of our language and literature should be selected. Dr. Whitaker was not well qualified for this undertaking; he also laboured under many disadvantages; he had access to only three manuscripts, and those not very good ones; and he has not chosen the best text even of those. Unless he had some reason to believe that the book was originally written in a particular dialect, he ought to have given a preference to that among the oldest manuscripts which presents the purest language; but we cannot allow that manuscript to be chosen on a ground so capricious as "that the orthography and dialect in which it is written approach very near to that semi-Saxon jargon in the midst of which the editor was brought up, and which he continues to hear daily spoken on the confines of Lancashire, and the West Riding of the county of York." (Pref.) This could not have been the language employed by a monk of Malvern.
The present editor has endeavoured, in the leisure moments which he has been able to snatch from other employments, to supply the deficiency as well, and in as unassuming manner, as he could. He has chosen for his text a manuscript belonging to the valuable library of Trinity College, Cambridge (where its shelf-mark is B. 15, 17), because it appears to him to be the best and oldest manuscript now in existence. It is a fine folio manuscript, on vellum, written in a large hand, undoubtedly contemporary with the author of the poem, and in remarkably pure English, with ornamented initial letters. His object has been to give the poem as popular a form as is consistent with philological correctness. He has added a few notes which occurred to him in the course of editing the text, and which he hopes may render the meaning and allusions sometimes clearer to the general reader, for whom more especially they are intended. They might have been enlarged and rendered more complete, if he had been master of sufficient leisure to enable him toundertakeextensive researches. But there are allusions, as well as words, in both poems to which it would be difficult at present to give any certain explanation. It has been thought advisable to give in the notes the important variations of the second text, from Dr. Whitaker's edition; and a few readings are added from a second manuscript in Trinity College Library (R. 3, 14). The editor has hoped to add to the utility of the book by a copious glossary. He has been unwillingly obliged to leave a few words without explanation; all our early alliterative poetry abounds in difficult words. In this point he has to acknowledge the kind assistance of Sir Frederick Madden, whom no person equals in profound knowledge of English glossography, and than whom no one is more generous to advise and assist those who are in need of his aid. To Sir Henry Ellis, who kindly lent him his own manuscript notes on Piers Ploughman, the editor also owes his grateful acknowledgments; and he regrets that at the time he received them the notes were already so far printed as to hinder him from making as much use of them as he could have wished.
London, June 1, 1842.
London, June 1, 1842.
London, June 1, 1842.
Filler.
THE VISION OF PIERSPLOUGHMAN
Filler.
Filler.
THE VISION OF
PIERS PLOUGHMAN.
I1N a somer seson,Whan softe was the sonne,I shoop me into shroudesAs I a sheep weere,In habite as an heremiteUnholy of werkes,Wente wide in this worldWondres to here;Ac on a May morwenynge10On Malverne hillesMe bifel a ferly,Of fairye me thoghte.I was wery for-wandred,And wente me to resteUnder a brood bankBy a bournes syde;And as I lay and lenede,And loked on the watres,I slombred into a slepyng,20It sweyed so murye.Thanne gan I metenA merveillous swevene,That I was in a wildernesse,Wiste I nevere where,And as I biheeld into the eestAn heigh to the sonne,I seigh a tour on a toftTrieliche y-maked,A deep dale bynethe,30A dongeon therinne,With depe diches and derkeAnd dredfulle of sighte.A fair feeld ful of folkFond 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,40Pleiden ful selde,In settynge and sowyngeSwonken ful harde,And wonnen that wastoursWith glotonye destruyeth.And somme putten hem to pride,Apparailed hem therafter,In contenaunce of clothyngeComen degised.In preires and penaunces50Putten hem manye,Al for the love of oure LordLyveden ful streyte,In hope to have afterHevene riche blisse;As ancres and heremitesThat holden hem in hire selles,And coveiten noght in contreeTo carien aboute,For no likerous liflode60Hire likame to plese.And somme chosen chaffare;Thei cheveden the bettre,As it semeth to our sightThat swiche men thryveth.And somme murthes to make,As mynstralles konne,And geten gold with hire glee,Giltles, I leeve.Ac japeres and jangeleres,70Judas children,Feynen hem fantasies,And fooles hem maketh,And han hire wit at willeTo werken, if thei wolde.That Poul precheth of hemI wol nat preve it here;ButQui loquitur turpiloquiumIs Luciferes hyne.Bidderes and beggeres80Faste aboute yede,With hire belies and hire baggesOf 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;Sleep and sory sleuthe90Seweth hem evere.Pilgrymes and palmeresPlighten hem togidere,For to sekenseint Jame,And seintes at Rome.They wenten forth in hire wey,With many wise tales,And hadden leve to lyenAl hire lif after.I seigh somme that seiden100Thei hadde y-sought seintes;To ech a tale that thei toldeHire tonge was tempred to lye,Moore than to seye sooth,It semed bi hire speche.Heremytes on an heepWith hoked stavesWenten toWalsyngham,And hire wenches after,Grete lobies and longe110That lothe were to swynke;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 pepleFor profit of hemselve;Glosed the gospel,120As hem good liked;For coveitise of copes,Construwed it as thei wolde.Many of thise maistre freresNow clothen hem at likyng,For hire moneie and hire marchaundizeMarchen togideres.For sith charité hath ben chapman,And chief to shryve lordes,Manye ferlies han fallen130In a fewe yeres;But holy chirche and hiiHolde bettre togidres,The mooste meschief on moldeIs mountynge wel faste.Ther preched a pardoner,As he a preest were;Broughte forth a bulleWith many bisshopes seles,And seide that hymself myghte140Assoillen hem alle,Of falshede, of fastynge,Of avowes y-broken.Lewed men leved it wel,And liked hise wordes;Comen up knelyngeTo kissen hise bulles.He bouched hemwith his brevet,And blered hire eighen,And raughte with his rageman150Rynges and broches.Thus thei gyven hire goldGlotons to kepe,And leveth in swiche loselsAs leccherie haunten.Were the bisshope y-blessed,And worth bothe hise eris,His seel sholde noght be sentTo deceyve the peple.Ac it is noght by the bisshope160That the boy precheth;For the parisshe preest and the pardonerParten the silver,That the poraille of the parissheSholde have, if thei ne were.Parsons and parisshe preestesPleyned hem to the bisshope,That hire parisshes weren povereSiththe pestilence tyme,To have a licence and leve170At London to dwelle,And syngen ther for symonie;For silver is swete.Bisshopes and bachelers,Bothe maistres and doctours,That han cure under Crist,And crownynge in tokeneAnd signe that thei sholdenShryven hire parisshens,Prechen and praye for hem,180And the povere fede,Liggen at LondoneIn Lenten and ellis.Somme serven the kyng,And his silver tellenIn cheker and in chauncelrie,Chalangen hise dettesOf wardes and of wardemotes,Weyves and streyves.And somme serven as servauntz190Lordes and ladies,And in stede of stywardesSitten and demen;Hire messe and hire matynsAnd many of hire houresArn doon un-devoutliche;Drede is at the laste,Lest Crist in consistorieA-corse ful manye.I perceyved of the power200That Peter hadde to kepe,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 kingdom210To close and to shette,And to opene it to hem,And hevene blisse shewe.Ac of the cardinals at courtThat kaughte of that name,And power presumed in hemA pope to make,To han that power that Peter hadde,Impugnen I nelle;For in love and in lettrure220The election bilongeth,For-thi I kan and kan naughtOf court speke moore.Thanne kam ther a kyng,Knyghthod hym ladde,Might of the communesMade hym to regne.And thanne cam kynde wit,And clerkes he made,For to counseillen the kyng,230And the commune save.The kyng and knyghthod,And clergie bothe,Casten that the communeSholde hemself fynde.The commune contrevedOf kynde wit craftes,And for profit of al the peplePlowmen ordeyned,To tilie and to travaille,240As trewe lif asketh.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!250And thi kyng-ryche,And lene thee lede thi lond,So leauté thee lovye,And for thi rightful rulyngBe rewarded in hevene."And sithen in the eyr an heighAn aungel of heveneLowed to speke in Latyn,For lewed men ne koudeJangle ne jugge,260That justifie hem sholde,But suffren and serven;For-thi seide the aungel:Sum rex, sum princeps,Neutrum fortasse deinceps;O qui jura regisChristi specialia regis,Hoc quod agas melius,Justus es, esto pius.Nudum jus a te270Vestiri vult pietate;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 heigh280Answerde after:Dum rex a regereDicatur nomen habere;Nomen habet sine re,Nisi studet jura tenere.Thanne gan al the communeCrye in vers of Latyn,To the kynges counseil;Construe who so wolde:Præcepta regis290Sunt nobis vincula legis.With that ran ther a routeOf ratons at ones,And smale mees myd hemMo than a thousand,And comen to a counseilFor the commune profit;For a cat of a contreeCam whan hym liked,And overleep hem lightliche,300And laughte hem at his wille,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 lif310Er he late us passe.Mighte we with any witHis wille withstonde,We mighte be lordes o-lofte,And lyven at oure ese."A raton of renoun,Moost renable of tonge,Seide for a sovereynHelp to hymselve:"I have y-seyen segges," quod he320"In the cité of Londone,Beren beighes ful brighteAbouten hire nekkes,And somme colers of crafty werk;Uncoupled thei wentenBothe in wareyne and in waastWhere hemself liked.And outher while thei arn ellis-where,As I here telle;Were ther a belle on hire beighe,330By Jhesu, as me thynketh,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 colerFor oure commune profit,Wher he ryt or rest,340Or renneth to pleye;And if hym list for to laike,Thanne loke we mowen,And peeren in his presenceThe while him pleye liketh:And, if hym wratheth, be war,And his way shonye."Al this route of ratonsTo this reson thei assented.Ac tho the belle was y-brought,350And on the beighe hanged,Ther ne was raton in al the route,For al the reaume of Fraunce,That dorste have bounden the belleAbout 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 lost360And al hire longe studie.A mous that muche goodKouthe, as me thoughte,Strook forth sternely,And stood bifore hem alle,And to the route of ratonsReherced thise wordes:"Though we killen the cat,Yet sholde ther come anotherTo cacchen us and al oure kynde,370Though we cropen under benches.For-thi I counseille al the communeTo late the cat worthe;And be we nevere boldeThe belle hym to shewe;For I herde my sire seyn,Is seven yeer y-passed,Ther the cat is a kitoneThe court is ful elenge;That witnesseth holy writ,380Who so wole it rede:Væ terræ ubi puer rex est! etc.For may no renk ther reste haveFor 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 losThan a long sorwe,390The maze among us alle,Theigh we mysse a sherewe;For many mennes maltWe mees wolde destruye,And also ye route of ratonsRende mennes clothes,Nere the cat of that courtThat can yow over-lepe;For hadde ye rattes youre wille,Ye kouthe noght rule yow selve."400"I seye for me," quod the mous,"I se so muchel after,Shal nevere the cat ne the kitonBy my counseil be greved,Thorugh carpynge of this colerThat costed me nevereAnd though it hadde costned me catel,Bi-knowen it I nolde,But suffren, as hymself wolde,To doon as hym liketh,410Coupled and uncoupledTo 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 muryeDevyne ye, for I ne dar,By deere God in hevene.Yet hoved ther an hundredIn howves of selk,420Sergeantz it bi-semedThat serveden at the barre,Pleteden for penyesAnd poundes the lawe;And noght for love of our LordUnclose hire lippes ones.Thow myghtest bettre meete mystOn Malverne hilles,Than gete a mom of hire mouth,Til moneie be shewed.430Barons and burgeises,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,440Masons and mynours,And many othere craftes.Of alle kynne lybbynge laborersLopen forth somme,As dikeres and delveres,That doon hire dedes ille,And dryveth forth the longe dayWithDieu save dame Emme.Cokes and hire knavesCryden, "Hote pies, hote!450Goode gees and grys!Gowe, dyne, gowe!"Taverners until hemTrewely 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,459And seve sithes more.]
I1N a somer seson,Whan softe was the sonne,I shoop me into shroudesAs I a sheep weere,In habite as an heremiteUnholy of werkes,Wente wide in this worldWondres to here;Ac on a May morwenynge10On Malverne hillesMe bifel a ferly,Of fairye me thoghte.I was wery for-wandred,And wente me to resteUnder a brood bankBy a bournes syde;And as I lay and lenede,And loked on the watres,I slombred into a slepyng,20It sweyed so murye.
I1
I
1
N a somer seson,
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
10
10
On Malverne hilles
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,
20
20
It sweyed so murye.
Thanne gan I metenA merveillous swevene,That I was in a wildernesse,Wiste I nevere where,And as I biheeld into the eestAn heigh to the sonne,I seigh a tour on a toftTrieliche y-maked,A deep dale bynethe,30A dongeon therinne,With depe diches and derkeAnd dredfulle of sighte.A fair feeld ful of folkFond I ther bitwene,Of alle manere of men,The meene and the riche,Werchynge and wandrynge,As the world asketh.
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,
30
30
A dongeon therinne,
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,40Pleiden ful selde,In settynge and sowyngeSwonken ful harde,And wonnen that wastoursWith glotonye destruyeth.
Some putten hem to the plough,
40
40
Pleiden ful selde,
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 clothyngeComen degised.
And somme putten hem to pride,
Apparailed hem therafter,
In contenaunce of clothynge
Comen degised.
In preires and penaunces50Putten hem manye,Al for the love of oure LordLyveden ful streyte,In hope to have afterHevene riche blisse;As ancres and heremitesThat holden hem in hire selles,And coveiten noght in contreeTo carien aboute,For no likerous liflode60Hire likame to plese.
In preires and penaunces
50
50
Putten hem manye,
Al for the love of oure Lord
Lyveden ful streyte,
In hope to have after
Hevene riche blisse;
As ancres and heremites
That holden hem in hire selles,
And coveiten noght in contree
To carien aboute,
For no likerous liflode
60
60
Hire likame to plese.
And somme chosen chaffare;Thei cheveden the bettre,As it semeth to our sightThat swiche men thryveth.
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.
And somme murthes to make,
As mynstralles konne,
And geten gold with hire glee,
Giltles, I leeve.
Ac japeres and jangeleres,70Judas children,Feynen hem fantasies,And fooles hem maketh,And han hire wit at willeTo werken, if thei wolde.That Poul precheth of hemI wol nat preve it here;ButQui loquitur turpiloquiumIs Luciferes hyne.
Ac japeres and jangeleres,
70
70
Judas children,
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;
ButQui loquitur turpiloquium
Is Luciferes hyne.
Bidderes and beggeres80Faste aboute yede,With hire belies and hire baggesOf 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;Sleep and sory sleuthe90Seweth hem evere.
Bidderes and beggeres
80
80
Faste aboute yede,
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;
Sleep and sory sleuthe
90
90
Seweth hem evere.
Pilgrymes and palmeresPlighten hem togidere,For to sekenseint Jame,And seintes at Rome.They wenten forth in hire wey,With many wise tales,And hadden leve to lyenAl hire lif after.
Pilgrymes and palmeres
Plighten hem togidere,
For to sekenseint 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 seiden100Thei hadde y-sought seintes;To ech a tale that thei toldeHire tonge was tempred to lye,Moore than to seye sooth,It semed bi hire speche.
I seigh somme that seiden
100
100
Thei hadde y-sought seintes;
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 heepWith hoked stavesWenten toWalsyngham,And hire wenches after,Grete lobies and longe110That lothe were to swynke;Clothed hem in copes,To ben knowen from othere;And shopen hem heremytes,Hire ese to have.
Heremytes on an heep
With hoked staves
Wenten toWalsyngham,
And hire wenches after,
Grete lobies and longe
110
110
That lothe were to swynke;
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 pepleFor profit of hemselve;Glosed the gospel,120As hem good liked;For coveitise of copes,Construwed it as thei wolde.Many of thise maistre freresNow clothen hem at likyng,For hire moneie and hire marchaundizeMarchen togideres.For sith charité hath ben chapman,And chief to shryve lordes,Manye ferlies han fallen130In a fewe yeres;But holy chirche and hiiHolde bettre togidres,The mooste meschief on moldeIs mountynge wel faste.
I fond there freres,
Alle the foure ordres,
Prechynge the peple
For profit of hemselve;
Glosed the gospel,
120
120
As hem good liked;
For coveitise of copes,
Construwed it as thei wolde.
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
130
130
In a fewe yeres;
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 bulleWith many bisshopes seles,And seide that hymself myghte140Assoillen hem alle,Of falshede, of fastynge,Of avowes y-broken.
Ther preched a pardoner,
As he a preest were;
Broughte forth a bulle
With many bisshopes seles,
And seide that hymself myghte
140
140
Assoillen hem alle,
Of falshede, of fastynge,
Of avowes y-broken.
Lewed men leved it wel,And liked hise wordes;Comen up knelyngeTo kissen hise bulles.He bouched hemwith his brevet,And blered hire eighen,And raughte with his rageman150Rynges and broches.
Lewed men leved it wel,
And liked hise wordes;
Comen up knelynge
To kissen hise bulles.
He bouched hemwith his brevet,
And blered hire eighen,
And raughte with his rageman
150
150
Rynges and broches.
Thus thei gyven hire goldGlotons to kepe,And leveth in swiche loselsAs leccherie haunten.
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,His seel sholde noght be sentTo deceyve the peple.Ac it is noght by the bisshope160That the boy precheth;For the parisshe preest and the pardonerParten the silver,That the poraille of the parissheSholde have, if thei ne were.
Were the bisshope y-blessed,
And worth bothe hise eris,
His seel sholde noght be sent
To deceyve the peple.
Ac it is noght by the bisshope
160
160
That the boy precheth;
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 preestesPleyned hem to the bisshope,That hire parisshes weren povereSiththe pestilence tyme,To have a licence and leve170At London to dwelle,And syngen ther for symonie;For silver is swete.
Parsons and parisshe preestes
Pleyned hem to the bisshope,
That hire parisshes weren povere
Siththe pestilence tyme,
To have a licence and leve
170
170
At London to dwelle,
And syngen ther for symonie;
For silver is swete.
Bisshopes and bachelers,Bothe maistres and doctours,That han cure under Crist,And crownynge in tokeneAnd signe that thei sholdenShryven hire parisshens,Prechen and praye for hem,180And the povere fede,Liggen at LondoneIn Lenten and ellis.
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,
180
180
And the povere fede,
Liggen at Londone
In Lenten and ellis.
Somme serven the kyng,And his silver tellenIn cheker and in chauncelrie,Chalangen hise dettesOf wardes and of wardemotes,Weyves and streyves.
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 servauntz190Lordes and ladies,And in stede of stywardesSitten and demen;Hire messe and hire matynsAnd many of hire houresArn doon un-devoutliche;Drede is at the laste,Lest Crist in consistorieA-corse ful manye.
And somme serven as servauntz
190
190
Lordes and ladies,
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 power200That Peter hadde to kepe,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 kingdom210To close and to shette,And to opene it to hem,And hevene blisse shewe.
I perceyved of the power
200
200
That Peter hadde to kepe,
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
210
210
To close and to shette,
And to opene it to hem,
And hevene blisse shewe.
Ac of the cardinals at courtThat kaughte of that name,And power presumed in hemA pope to make,To han that power that Peter hadde,Impugnen I nelle;For in love and in lettrure220The election bilongeth,For-thi I kan and kan naughtOf court speke moore.
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
220
220
The election bilongeth,
For-thi I kan and kan naught
Of court speke moore.
Thanne kam ther a kyng,Knyghthod hym ladde,Might of the communesMade hym to regne.
Thanne kam ther a kyng,
Knyghthod hym ladde,
Might of the communes
Made hym to regne.
And thanne cam kynde wit,And clerkes he made,For to counseillen the kyng,230And the commune save.
And thanne cam kynde wit,
And clerkes he made,
For to counseillen the kyng,
230
230
And the commune save.
The kyng and knyghthod,And clergie bothe,Casten that the communeSholde hemself fynde.
The kyng and knyghthod,
And clergie bothe,
Casten that the commune
Sholde hemself fynde.
The commune contrevedOf kynde wit craftes,And for profit of al the peplePlowmen ordeyned,To tilie and to travaille,240As trewe lif asketh.
The commune contreved
Of kynde wit craftes,
And for profit of al the peple
Plowmen ordeyned,
To tilie and to travaille,
240
240
As trewe lif asketh.
The kyng and the commune,And kynde wit the thridde,Shopen lawe and leauté,Ech man to knowe his owene.
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:
Thanne loked up a lunatik,
A leene thyng with-alle,
And, knelynge to the kyng,
Clergially he seide:
"Crist kepe thee, sire kyng!250And thi kyng-ryche,And lene thee lede thi lond,So leauté thee lovye,And for thi rightful rulyngBe rewarded in hevene."
"Crist kepe thee, sire kyng!
250
250
And thi kyng-ryche,
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 heighAn aungel of heveneLowed to speke in Latyn,For lewed men ne koudeJangle ne jugge,260That justifie hem sholde,But suffren and serven;For-thi seide the aungel:Sum rex, sum princeps,Neutrum fortasse deinceps;O qui jura regisChristi specialia regis,Hoc quod agas melius,Justus es, esto pius.Nudum jus a te270Vestiri vult pietate;Qualia vis metere,Talia grana sere.Si jus nudatur,Nudo de jure metatur;Si seritur pietas,De pietate metas.
And sithen in the eyr an heigh
An aungel of hevene
Lowed to speke in Latyn,
For lewed men ne koude
Jangle ne jugge,
260
260
That justifie hem sholde,
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
270
270
Vestiri vult pietate;
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 heigh280Answerde after:Dum rex a regereDicatur nomen habere;Nomen habet sine re,Nisi studet jura tenere.
Thanne greved hym a goliardeis,
A gloton of wordes,
And to the aungel an heigh
280
280
Answerde after:
Dum rex a regere
Dicatur nomen habere;
Nomen habet sine re,
Nisi studet jura tenere.
Thanne gan al the communeCrye in vers of Latyn,To the kynges counseil;Construe who so wolde:Præcepta regis290Sunt nobis vincula legis.
Thanne gan al the commune
Crye in vers of Latyn,
To the kynges counseil;
Construe who so wolde:
Præcepta regis
290
290
Sunt nobis vincula legis.
With that ran ther a routeOf ratons at ones,And smale mees myd hemMo than a thousand,And comen to a counseilFor the commune profit;For a cat of a contreeCam whan hym liked,And overleep hem lightliche,300And laughte hem at his wille,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 lif310Er he late us passe.Mighte we with any witHis wille withstonde,We mighte be lordes o-lofte,And lyven at oure ese."
With that ran ther a route
Of ratons at ones,
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,
300
300
And laughte hem at his wille,
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
310
310
Er he late us passe.
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 sovereynHelp to hymselve:
A raton of renoun,
Moost renable of tonge,
Seide for a sovereyn
Help to hymselve:
"I have y-seyen segges," quod he320"In the cité of Londone,Beren beighes ful brighteAbouten hire nekkes,And somme colers of crafty werk;Uncoupled thei wentenBothe in wareyne and in waastWhere hemself liked.And outher while thei arn ellis-where,As I here telle;Were ther a belle on hire beighe,330By Jhesu, as me thynketh,Men myghte witen wher thei wente,And awey renne!"
"I have y-seyen segges," quod he
320
320
"In the cité of Londone,
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.
And outher while thei arn ellis-where,
As I here telle;
Were ther a belle on hire beighe,
330
330
By Jhesu, as me thynketh,
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 colerFor oure commune profit,Wher he ryt or rest,340Or renneth to pleye;And if hym list for to laike,Thanne loke we mowen,And peeren in his presenceThe while him pleye liketh:And, if hym wratheth, be war,And his way shonye."
"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,
340
340
Or renneth to pleye;
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 ratonsTo this reson thei assented.Ac tho the belle was y-brought,350And on the beighe hanged,Ther ne was raton in al the route,For al the reaume of Fraunce,That dorste have bounden the belleAbout 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 lost360And al hire longe studie.
Al this route of ratons
To this reson thei assented.
Ac tho the belle was y-brought,
350
350
And on the beighe hanged,
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
360
360
And al hire longe studie.
A mous that muche goodKouthe, as me thoughte,Strook forth sternely,And stood bifore hem alle,And to the route of ratonsReherced thise wordes:
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 anotherTo cacchen us and al oure kynde,370Though we cropen under benches.For-thi I counseille al the communeTo late the cat worthe;And be we nevere boldeThe belle hym to shewe;For I herde my sire seyn,Is seven yeer y-passed,Ther the cat is a kitoneThe court is ful elenge;That witnesseth holy writ,380Who so wole it rede:Væ terræ ubi puer rex est! etc.For may no renk ther reste haveFor 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 losThan a long sorwe,390The maze among us alle,Theigh we mysse a sherewe;For many mennes maltWe mees wolde destruye,And also ye route of ratonsRende mennes clothes,Nere the cat of that courtThat can yow over-lepe;For hadde ye rattes youre wille,Ye kouthe noght rule yow selve."
"Though we killen the cat,
Yet sholde ther come another
To cacchen us and al oure kynde,
370
370
Though we cropen under benches.
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,
380
380
Who so wole it rede:
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,
390
390
The maze among us alle,
Theigh we mysse a sherewe;
For many mennes malt
We mees wolde destruye,
And also ye route of ratons
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."
400"I seye for me," quod the mous,"I se so muchel after,Shal nevere the cat ne the kitonBy my counseil be greved,Thorugh carpynge of this colerThat costed me nevereAnd though it hadde costned me catel,Bi-knowen it I nolde,But suffren, as hymself wolde,To doon as hym liketh,410Coupled and uncoupledTo cacche what thei mowe.For-thi ech a wis wight I warne,Wite wel his owene."
400
400
"I seye for me," quod the mous,
"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,
410
410
Coupled and uncoupled
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 muryeDevyne ye, for I ne dar,By deere God in hevene.
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 hundredIn howves of selk,420Sergeantz it bi-semedThat serveden at the barre,Pleteden for penyesAnd poundes the lawe;And noght for love of our LordUnclose hire lippes ones.Thow myghtest bettre meete mystOn Malverne hilles,Than gete a mom of hire mouth,Til moneie be shewed.
Yet hoved ther an hundred
In howves of selk,
420
420
Sergeantz it bi-semed
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,
Til moneie be shewed.
430Barons and burgeises,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,440Masons and mynours,And many othere craftes.Of alle kynne lybbynge laborersLopen forth somme,As dikeres and delveres,That doon hire dedes ille,And dryveth forth the longe dayWithDieu save dame Emme.
430
430
Barons and burgeises,
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,
440
440
Masons and mynours,
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
WithDieu save dame Emme.
Cokes and hire knavesCryden, "Hote pies, hote!450Goode gees and grys!Gowe, dyne, gowe!"
Cokes and hire knaves
Cryden, "Hote pies, hote!
450
450
Goode gees and grys!
Gowe, dyne, gowe!"
Taverners until hemTrewely 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,459And seve sithes more.]
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,
459
459
And seve sithes more.]
Filler.
Passus Primus de Visione.W460HAT this mountaigne by-menethAnd 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 castelAnd called me faire,And seide, "Sone, slepestow?Sestow this peple,470How bisie thei benAlle aboute the maze?The mooste partie of this pepleThat passeth on this erthe,Have thei worship in this world,Thei wilne no bettre;Of oother hevene than hereHolde thei no tale."I was a-fered of hire face,Theigh she fair weere,480And seide, "Mercy, madame,What is this to meene?""The tour on the toft," quod she,"Truthe is therinne;And wolde that ye wroughte,As his word techeth!For he is fader of feith,And formed yow alleBothe with fel and with face,And yaf yowfyve wittes,490For to worshipe hym therwith,While that ye ben here.And therfore he highte the ertheTo helpe yow echone,Of wollene, of lynnen,Of liflode at nede,In mesurable manereTo make yow at ese;And comaunded of his curteisieIn commune three thynges,500Are none nedfulle but tho,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 meelFor mysese of thiselve;And drynke whan thow driest;Ac do noght out of reson,510That thow worthe the wersWhan thow werche sholdest."For Lot in hise lif-dayes,For likynge of drynke,Dide by hise doughtresThat the devel liked,Delited hym in drynkeAs the devel wolde,And leccherie hym laughte,And lay by hem bothe,520And al he witte it the wynThat wikked dede.Inebriamus eum vino, dormiamusquecum eo, ut servare possimus depatre nostro semen.Thorugh wyn and thorugh wommenTher was Loth acombred,And there gat in glotonieGerles that were cherles."For-thi dred delitable drynke,530And thow shalt do the bettre.Mesure is medicine,Though thow muchel yerne.It is nought al good to the goostThat the gut asketh,Ne liflode to thi likame;For a liere hym techeth,That is the wrecched worldWolde thee bitraye.For the fend and thi flesshe540Folwen togidere.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 moldeThat men so faste holdeth,Tel me to whom, madame,550That tresour appendeth.""Go to the gospel," quod she,"That God seide hymselven;Tho the poeple hym apposedeWith a peny in the temple,Wheither thei sholde therwithWorshipe the kyng Cesar."And God asked of hym,Of whom spak the lettre,And the ymage was lik560That therinne stondeth."'Cesares,' thei seiden,'We seen it wel echone.'"'Reddite Cæsari,'quod God,'ThatCæsaribifalleth,Et quæ sunt Dei Deo,'Or ellis ye don ille;For rightfully resonSholde rule yow alle,And kynde wit be wardeyn570Youre welthe to kepe,And tutour of youre tresor,And take it yow at nede,For housbondrie and hiiHolden 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,580Madame, I yow biseche?""That is the castel of Care;Who so comth therinneMay banne that he born was,To bodi or to soule.Therinne wonyeth a wightThat Wrong is y-hote,Fader of falshede,And founded it hymselve.Adam and Eve590He egged to ille;Counseilled KaymTo killen his brother;Judas he japedWith Jewen silver,And sithenon an ellerHanged hymselve.He is lettere of love,And lieth hem alleThat trusten on his tresour;600Bitrayeth he hem sonnest."Thanne hadde I wonder in my witWhat womman it weere,That swiche wise wordesOf holy writ shewed;And asked hire on the heighe name,Er she thennes yede,What she were witterlyThat wissed me so faire."Holi chirche I am," quod she,610"Thow oughtest me to knowe;I underfeng thee first,And the feith taughte;And broughtest me borwesMy biddyng to fulfille,And to loven me leellyThe while thi lif dureth."Thanne I courbed on my knees,And cried hire of grace;And preide hire pitously620Preye for my sinnes,And also kenne me kyndelyOn Crist to bi-leve,That I myghte werchen his willeThat 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,630"Treuthe is the beste;I do it onDeus caritas,To deme the sothe,It is as dereworthe a druryAs 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 gospel640A-grounde and o-lofte,And y-lik to oure Lord,By seint Lukes wordes.The clerkes that knowen this,Sholde kennen it aboute,For cristen and un-cristenCleymeth it echone."Kynges and knyghtesSholde kepen it by reson,Riden and rappen doun650In reaumes aboute,And takentransgressores,And tyen hem faste,Til treuthe hadde y-termynedHire trespas to the ende.And that is profession apertliThat apendeth to knyghtes;And naught to fasten o fridayIn fyve score wynter,But holden with hym and with here660That wolden alle truthe,And nevere leve hem for loveNe for lacchynge of silver.For David in hise dayesDubbed knyghtes,And dide hem sweren on hir swerdesTo serven truthe evere;And who so passed that pointWas apostata in the ordre."But Crist kyngene kyng670Knyghted ten,Cherubyn and seraphyn,Swiche sevene and othereAnd yaf hem myght in his majestee,The murier hem thoughte,And over his meene meyneeMade hem archangeles;Taughte hem by the TriniteeTreuthe to knowe;To be buxom at his biddyng,680He bad hem nought ellis."Lucifer with legionsLerned it in hevene;But for he brak buxomnesseHis blisse gan he tyne,And fel fro that felawshipeIn a fendes liknesse,Into a deep derk helle,To dwelle there for evere;And mo thousandes myd hym690Than man kouthe nombreLopen out with LuciferIn lothliche forme,For thei leveden upon hymThat 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 liknesse700Nyne dayes togideres,Til God of his goodnesseGan stablisse and stynte,And garte the hevene to stekieAnd 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 lith710Yet of hem alle,For pride that he putte out,His peyne hath noon ende.And alle that werchen with wrong,Wende thei shulle,After hir deth dayAnd dwelle with that sherewe."And tho that werche wel,As holy writ telleth,And enden as I er seide720In truthe, that is the beste,Mowe be siker that hire soulesShul 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,730For lettred men it knoweth,That treuthe is tresorThe trieste on erthe.""Yet have I no kynde knowyng." quod I,"Ye mote kenne me bettre,By what craft in my corsIt comseth, and where.""Thow doted daffe," quod she,"Dulle are thi wittes;To litel Latyn thow lernedest,740Leode, in thi youthe."=Heu michi! quia sterilem duxi vitam juvenilem."It is a kynde knowyng," quod she,"That kenneth in thyn herte,For to loven thi LordLevere than thiselve,No dedly synne to do,Deye theigh thow sholdest;This I trowe be truthe.750Who kan teche thee bettre,Loke thow suffre hym to seye,And sithen lere it after;For truthe telleth that loveIs triacle of hevene.May no synne be on hym seene,That useth that spice,And alle hise werkes be wroughteWith love as hym liste;And lered it Moyses for the leveste thyng,760And moost lik to hevene,And al so the plentee of peesMoost precious of vertues;For hevene myghte nat holden it,It was so hevy of hymself,Til it hadde of the ertheEten his fille."And whan it hadde of this foldFlesshe and blood taken,Was nevere leef upon lynde770Lighter therafter,And portatif and persauntAs the point of a nedle,That myghte noon armure it lette,Ne none heighe walles."For-thi is love ledereOf the Lordes folk of hevene,And a meene, as the mair isBitwene the kyng and the commune;Right so is love a ledere,780And the law shapeth,Upon man for hise mysdedesThe mercyment he taxeth.And for to knowen it kyndelyIt comseth by myght,And in the herte there is the heedAnd the heighe welle;For in kynde knowynge in herte,Ther a myght bigynneth;And that falleth to the fader790That formed us alle,Loked on us with love,And leet his sone dyeMekely for oure mysdedes,To amenden us alle.And yet wolde he hem no woThat wroughte hym that peyne,But mekely with moutheMercy bisoughte,To have pité of that peple800That peyned hym to dethe."There myghtow sen ensampleIn hymself oone,That he was myghtful and meke,And mercy gan graunteTo hem that hengen hym on heighAnd his herte thirled."For-thi I rede yow, riche,Haveth ruthe of the povere;Though ye be myghtful to mote,810Beeth meke in youre werkes,For the same mesures that ye mete,Amys outher ellis,Ye shulle ben weyen therwithWhan ye wenden hennes.=Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis, remetietur vobis."For though ye be trewe of youre tongeAnd treweliche wynne,And as chaste as a child820That in chirche wepeth,But if ye loven leellyAnd lene the povere,Swich good as God yow sentGoodliche parteth,Ye ne have namoore meriteIn masse nor in houres,Than Malkyn of hire maydenhedeThat no man desireth."For James the gentile830Jugged in hise bokes,That feith withouten the feetIs 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 charitéWorth cheyned in helle;It is as lewed as a lampeThat no light is inne.840Manye chapeleyns arn chaste,Ac charité is aweye;Are no men avarouser than hiiWhan thei ben avaunced,Unkynde to hire kyn,And to alle cristeneChewen hire charité,And chiden after moore;Swiche chastité withouten charitéWorth cheyned in helle.850"Manye curatours kepen hemClene of hire bodies;Thei ben acombred with coveitise,Thei konne noght doon it from hem,So harde hath avariceY-hasped hem togideres;And that is no truthe of the Trinité,But tricherie of helle,And lernynge to lewed menThe latter for to deele.860For-thi thise wordesBen 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 carefulleA-combred with synne."Love is leche of lif,And next oure Lord selve,870And also the graithe gateThat goth into hevene;For-thi I seye, as I seideEr 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,879Now loke thee oure Lorde."
Passus Primus de Visione.
Passus Primus de Visione.
W460HAT this mountaigne by-menethAnd the merke dale,And the feld ful of folk,I shal yow faire shewe.
W460
W
460
HAT this mountaigne by-meneth
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 castelAnd called me faire,And seide, "Sone, slepestow?Sestow this peple,470How bisie thei benAlle aboute the maze?The mooste partie of this pepleThat passeth on this erthe,Have thei worship in this world,Thei wilne no bettre;Of oother hevene than hereHolde thei no tale."
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,
470
470
How bisie thei ben
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,480And seide, "Mercy, madame,What is this to meene?"
I was a-fered of hire face,
Theigh she fair weere,
480
480
And seide, "Mercy, madame,
What is this to meene?"
"The tour on the toft," quod she,"Truthe is therinne;And wolde that ye wroughte,As his word techeth!For he is fader of feith,And formed yow alleBothe with fel and with face,And yaf yowfyve wittes,490For to worshipe hym therwith,While that ye ben here.And therfore he highte the ertheTo helpe yow echone,Of wollene, of lynnen,Of liflode at nede,In mesurable manereTo make yow at ese;And comaunded of his curteisieIn commune three thynges,500Are none nedfulle but tho,And nempne hem I thynke,And rekene hem by reson;Reherce thow hem after.
"The tour on the toft," quod she,
"Truthe is therinne;
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 yowfyve wittes,
490
490
For to worshipe hym therwith,
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,
500
500
Are none nedfulle but tho,
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 meelFor mysese of thiselve;And drynke whan thow driest;Ac do noght out of reson,510That thow worthe the wersWhan thow werche sholdest.
"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,
510
510
That thow worthe the wers
Whan thow werche sholdest.
"For Lot in hise lif-dayes,For likynge of drynke,Dide by hise doughtresThat the devel liked,Delited hym in drynkeAs the devel wolde,And leccherie hym laughte,And lay by hem bothe,520And al he witte it the wynThat wikked dede.Inebriamus eum vino, dormiamusquecum eo, ut servare possimus depatre nostro semen.Thorugh wyn and thorugh wommenTher was Loth acombred,And there gat in glotonieGerles that were cherles.
"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,
And leccherie hym laughte,
And lay by hem bothe,
520
520
And al he witte it the wyn
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,530And thow shalt do the bettre.Mesure is medicine,Though thow muchel yerne.It is nought al good to the goostThat the gut asketh,Ne liflode to thi likame;For a liere hym techeth,That is the wrecched worldWolde thee bitraye.For the fend and thi flesshe540Folwen togidere.This and that seeth thi soule,And seith it in thin herte;And for thow sholdest ben y-war,I wisse thee the beste."
"For-thi dred delitable drynke,
530
530
And thow shalt do the bettre.
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
540
540
Folwen togidere.
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 moldeThat men so faste holdeth,Tel me to whom, madame,550That tresour appendeth."
"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,
550
550
That tresour appendeth."
"Go to the gospel," quod she,"That God seide hymselven;Tho the poeple hym apposedeWith a peny in the temple,Wheither thei sholde therwithWorshipe the kyng Cesar.
"Go to the gospel," quod she,
"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 lik560That therinne stondeth.
"And God asked of hym,
Of whom spak the lettre,
And the ymage was lik
560
560
That therinne stondeth.
"'Cesares,' thei seiden,'We seen it wel echone.'
"'Cesares,' thei seiden,
'We seen it wel echone.'
"'Reddite Cæsari,'quod God,'ThatCæsaribifalleth,Et quæ sunt Dei Deo,'Or ellis ye don ille;For rightfully resonSholde rule yow alle,And kynde wit be wardeyn570Youre welthe to kepe,And tutour of youre tresor,And take it yow at nede,For housbondrie and hiiHolden togidres."
"'Reddite Cæsari,'quod God,
'ThatCæsaribifalleth,
Et quæ sunt Dei Deo,'
Or ellis ye don ille;
For rightfully reson
Sholde rule yow alle,
And kynde wit be wardeyn
570
570
Youre welthe to kepe,
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,580Madame, I yow biseche?"
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,
580
580
Madame, I yow biseche?"
"That is the castel of Care;Who so comth therinneMay banne that he born was,To bodi or to soule.Therinne wonyeth a wightThat Wrong is y-hote,Fader of falshede,And founded it hymselve.Adam and Eve590He egged to ille;Counseilled KaymTo killen his brother;Judas he japedWith Jewen silver,And sithenon an ellerHanged hymselve.He is lettere of love,And lieth hem alleThat trusten on his tresour;600Bitrayeth he hem sonnest."
"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
That Wrong is y-hote,
Fader of falshede,
And founded it hymselve.
Adam and Eve
590
590
He egged to ille;
Counseilled Kaym
To killen his brother;
Judas he japed
With Jewen silver,
And sithenon an eller
Hanged hymselve.
He is lettere of love,
And lieth hem alle
That trusten on his tresour;
600
600
Bitrayeth he hem sonnest."
Thanne hadde I wonder in my witWhat womman it weere,That swiche wise wordesOf holy writ shewed;And asked hire on the heighe name,Er she thennes yede,What she were witterlyThat wissed me so faire.
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,610"Thow oughtest me to knowe;I underfeng thee first,And the feith taughte;And broughtest me borwesMy biddyng to fulfille,And to loven me leellyThe while thi lif dureth."
"Holi chirche I am," quod she,
610
610
"Thow oughtest me to knowe;
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 pitously620Preye for my sinnes,And also kenne me kyndelyOn Crist to bi-leve,That I myghte werchen his willeThat 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."
Thanne I courbed on my knees,
And cried hire of grace;
And preide hire pitously
620
620
Preye for my sinnes,
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,630"Treuthe is the beste;I do it onDeus caritas,To deme the sothe,It is as dereworthe a druryAs deere God hymselven.
"Whan alle tresors arn tried," quod she,
630
630
"Treuthe is the beste;
I do it onDeus 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 gospel640A-grounde and o-lofte,And y-lik to oure Lord,By seint Lukes wordes.The clerkes that knowen this,Sholde kennen it aboute,For cristen and un-cristenCleymeth it echone.
"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
640
640
A-grounde and o-lofte,
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 knyghtesSholde kepen it by reson,Riden and rappen doun650In reaumes aboute,And takentransgressores,And tyen hem faste,Til treuthe hadde y-termynedHire trespas to the ende.And that is profession apertliThat apendeth to knyghtes;And naught to fasten o fridayIn fyve score wynter,But holden with hym and with here660That wolden alle truthe,And nevere leve hem for loveNe for lacchynge of silver.For David in hise dayesDubbed knyghtes,And dide hem sweren on hir swerdesTo serven truthe evere;And who so passed that pointWas apostata in the ordre.
"Kynges and knyghtes
Sholde kepen it by reson,
Riden and rappen doun
650
650
In reaumes aboute,
And takentransgressores,
And tyen hem faste,
Til treuthe hadde y-termyned
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
660
660
That wolden alle truthe,
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 kyng670Knyghted ten,Cherubyn and seraphyn,Swiche sevene and othereAnd yaf hem myght in his majestee,The murier hem thoughte,And over his meene meyneeMade hem archangeles;Taughte hem by the TriniteeTreuthe to knowe;To be buxom at his biddyng,680He bad hem nought ellis.
"But Crist kyngene kyng
670
670
Knyghted ten,
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,
680
680
He bad hem nought ellis.
"Lucifer with legionsLerned it in hevene;But for he brak buxomnesseHis blisse gan he tyne,And fel fro that felawshipeIn a fendes liknesse,Into a deep derk helle,To dwelle there for evere;And mo thousandes myd hym690Than man kouthe nombreLopen out with LuciferIn lothliche forme,For thei leveden upon hymThat lyed in this manere:=Ponam pedem in aquilone, et similis ero altissimo.
"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,
To dwelle there for evere;
And mo thousandes myd hym
690
690
Than man kouthe nombre
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 liknesse700Nyne dayes togideres,Til God of his goodnesseGan stablisse and stynte,And garte the hevene to stekieAnd stonden in quiete.
"And alle that hoped it myghte be so,
Noon hevene myghte hem holde,
But fellen out in fendes liknesse
700
700
Nyne dayes togideres,
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 lith710Yet of hem alle,For pride that he putte out,His peyne hath noon ende.And alle that werchen with wrong,Wende thei shulle,After hir deth dayAnd dwelle with that sherewe.
"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
710
710
Yet of hem alle,
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 seide720In truthe, that is the beste,Mowe be siker that hire soulesShul 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,730For lettred men it knoweth,That treuthe is tresorThe trieste on erthe."
"And tho that werche wel,
As holy writ telleth,
And enden as I er seide
720
720
In truthe, that is the beste,
Mowe be siker that hire soules
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,
730
730
For lettred men it knoweth,
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 corsIt comseth, and where."
"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,740Leode, in thi youthe."=Heu michi! quia sterilem duxi vitam juvenilem.
"Thow doted daffe," quod she,
"Dulle are thi wittes;
To litel Latyn thow lernedest,
740
740
Leode, in thi youthe."
=
=
Heu michi! quia sterilem duxi vitam juvenilem.
"It is a kynde knowyng," quod she,"That kenneth in thyn herte,For to loven thi LordLevere than thiselve,No dedly synne to do,Deye theigh thow sholdest;This I trowe be truthe.750Who kan teche thee bettre,Loke thow suffre hym to seye,And sithen lere it after;For truthe telleth that loveIs triacle of hevene.May no synne be on hym seene,That useth that spice,And alle hise werkes be wroughteWith love as hym liste;And lered it Moyses for the leveste thyng,760And moost lik to hevene,And al so the plentee of peesMoost precious of vertues;For hevene myghte nat holden it,It was so hevy of hymself,Til it hadde of the ertheEten his fille.
"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.
750
750
Who kan teche thee bettre,
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,
That useth that spice,
And alle hise werkes be wroughte
With love as hym liste;
And lered it Moyses for the leveste thyng,
760
760
And moost lik to hevene,
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 foldFlesshe and blood taken,Was nevere leef upon lynde770Lighter therafter,And portatif and persauntAs the point of a nedle,That myghte noon armure it lette,Ne none heighe walles.
"And whan it hadde of this fold
Flesshe and blood taken,
Was nevere leef upon lynde
770
770
Lighter therafter,
And portatif and persaunt
As the point of a nedle,
That myghte noon armure it lette,
Ne none heighe walles.
"For-thi is love ledereOf the Lordes folk of hevene,And a meene, as the mair isBitwene the kyng and the commune;Right so is love a ledere,780And the law shapeth,Upon man for hise mysdedesThe mercyment he taxeth.And for to knowen it kyndelyIt comseth by myght,And in the herte there is the heedAnd the heighe welle;For in kynde knowynge in herte,Ther a myght bigynneth;And that falleth to the fader790That formed us alle,Loked on us with love,And leet his sone dyeMekely for oure mysdedes,To amenden us alle.And yet wolde he hem no woThat wroughte hym that peyne,But mekely with moutheMercy bisoughte,To have pité of that peple800That peyned hym to dethe.
"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,
780
780
And the law shapeth,
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
790
790
That formed us alle,
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
800
800
That peyned hym to dethe.
"There myghtow sen ensampleIn hymself oone,That he was myghtful and meke,And mercy gan graunteTo hem that hengen hym on heighAnd his herte thirled.
"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,810Beeth meke in youre werkes,For the same mesures that ye mete,Amys outher ellis,Ye shulle ben weyen therwithWhan ye wenden hennes.=Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis, remetietur vobis.
"For-thi I rede yow, riche,
Haveth ruthe of the povere;
Though ye be myghtful to mote,
810
810
Beeth meke in youre werkes,
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 tongeAnd treweliche wynne,And as chaste as a child820That in chirche wepeth,But if ye loven leellyAnd lene the povere,Swich good as God yow sentGoodliche parteth,Ye ne have namoore meriteIn masse nor in houres,Than Malkyn of hire maydenhedeThat no man desireth.
"For though ye be trewe of youre tonge
And treweliche wynne,
And as chaste as a child
820
820
That in chirche wepeth,
But if ye loven leelly
And lene the povere,
Swich good as God yow sent
Goodliche parteth,
Ye ne have namoore merite
In masse nor in houres,
Than Malkyn of hire maydenhede
That no man desireth.
"For James the gentile830Jugged in hise bokes,That feith withouten the feetIs right no thyng worthi,And as deed as a dore-tree,But if the dedes folwe.Fides sine operibus mortua est, etc.
"For James the gentile
830
830
Jugged in hise bokes,
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 charitéWorth cheyned in helle;It is as lewed as a lampeThat no light is inne.840Manye chapeleyns arn chaste,Ac charité is aweye;Are no men avarouser than hiiWhan thei ben avaunced,Unkynde to hire kyn,And to alle cristeneChewen hire charité,And chiden after moore;Swiche chastité withouten charitéWorth cheyned in helle.
"For-thi chastité withouten charité
Worth cheyned in helle;
It is as lewed as a lampe
That no light is inne.
840
840
Manye chapeleyns arn chaste,
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.
850"Manye curatours kepen hemClene of hire bodies;Thei ben acombred with coveitise,Thei konne noght doon it from hem,So harde hath avariceY-hasped hem togideres;And that is no truthe of the Trinité,But tricherie of helle,And lernynge to lewed menThe latter for to deele.860For-thi thise wordesBen 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 carefulleA-combred with synne.
850
850
"Manye curatours kepen hem
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,
And lernynge to lewed men
The latter for to deele.
860
860
For-thi thise wordes
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,870And also the graithe gateThat goth into hevene;For-thi I seye, as I seideEr by the textes,Whan alle tresors ben tried,Treuthe is the beste.
"Love is leche of lif,
And next oure Lord selve,
870
870
And also the graithe gate
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,879Now loke thee oure Lorde."
"Now have I told thee what truthe is,
That no tresor is bettre;
I may no lenger lenge thee with,
879
879
Now loke thee oure Lorde."