Chapter 4

Filler.

Passus Quartus de Visione, ut supra."C2079ESSETH," seith the kyng,"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,2090To Conscience thanne,"Rape thee to ryde,And Reson thow fecche;Comaunde hym that he comeMy counseil to here,For he shal rule my reaumeAnd rede me the beste,And acounte with thee, Conscience,So me Crist helpe!How thowlernestthe peple,2100The lered and the lewed.""I am fayn of that foreward,"Seide the freke thanne,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,2110Curteis of speche,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 welWith witty-wordes gerthes,And hange on hym the hevy brydel2120To holde his heed lowe,For he wol make 'wehee!'Twies er he be there."Thanne Conscience upon his capulCarieth forth faste,And Reson with hym ryt,Rownynge togideres,Whiche maistries MedeMaketh on this erthe.Oon Waryn Wisdom,2130And Witty his feere,Folwed hym faste,For thei hadde to dooneIn th'escheker and in the chauncerye,To ben descharged of thynges;And riden faste, for Reson sholdeRede hem the beste,For to save hem for silverFrom shame and from harmes.And Conscience knew hem wel,2140Thei loved coveitise;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,2150etc."Thei ne yeveth noght of GodOne goose wynge.=Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc."For woot God thei wolde do mooreFor a dozeyne chicknes,Or as manye capons,Or for a seem of otes,Than for the love of oure Lord,2160Or alle hise leeve seintes.For-thi Reson lat hem ride,Tho riche by hemselve,For Conscience knoweth hem noght,Ne Crist, as I trowe."And thanne Reson rood fasteThe righte heighe gate,As Conscience hym kenned,Til thei come to the kynge.Curteisly the kyng thanne2170Com ayeins Reson,And bitwene hymself andhis soneSette hym on benche;And wordeden wel wiselyA gret while togideres.And thanne com Pees into parlement,And putte forth a bille,How Wrong ayeins his willeHadde his wif taken,And how he ravysshede Rose2180Reginaldes loove,And Margrete of hir maydenhedeMaugree hire chekes."Bothe my gees and my grysHise gadelynges feccheth,I dar noght for fere of hemFighte ne chide.He borwed of me Bayard,He broughte hym hom nevere,Ne no ferthyng therfore,2190For ought I koude plede.He maynteneth hise menTo 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 atailléFor ten quarters of otes;And yet he beteth me therto,2200And lyth by my mayde.I am noght hardy for hymUnnethe to loke."The kyng knew he seide sooth,For Conscience hym toldeThat Wrong was a wikked luft,And wroghte muche sorwe.Wrong was afered thanne,And Wisdom he soughte,To maken pees with hise pens;2210And profred hym manye,And seide, "Hadde I love of my lord the kyng,Litel wolde I recche,Theigh Pees and his powerPleyned hym evere."Tho wente WisdomAnd sire Waryn the Witty,For that Wrong hadde y-wroghtSo wikked a dede,And warnede Wrong tho2220With swich a wis tale,"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 londLyth in his grace."Thanne wowede Wrong2230Wisdom ful yerne,To maken pees with his pens,Handy dandy payed.Wisdom and Wit thanneWenten togidres,And token Mede myd hemMercy to wynne.Pees putte forth his heed,And his panne blody,"Withouten gilt, God it woot,2240Gat I this scathe;Conscience and the communeKnowen the sothe."Ac Wisdom and WitWere aboute faste,To overcomen the kyngWith catel, if thei myghte.The kyng swor by Crist,And by his crowne bothe,That Wrong for hise werkes2250Sholde wo tholie;And comaundede a constableTo casten hym in irens,And lete hym noght thise seven yerSeen 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,2260And buggen hym boote,And so amenden that is mys-doAnd evere moore the bettre."Wit acorded therwith,And seide the same,"Bettre is that booteBale a-doun brynge,Than bale be y-bet,And boote never the bettre."And thanne gan Mede to mengen hire,2270And mercy she bi-soughte,And profrede Pees a presentAl of pure golde:"Have this, man, of me," quod she,"To amenden thi scathe,For I wol wage for WrongHe wol do so na-moore."Pitously Pees thannePreyde to the kynge,To have mercy on that man2280That mys-dide hym so ofte;"For he hath waged me wel,As Wisdom hym taughte,And I forgyve hym that giltWith 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,2290"So me Crist helpe!Wrong wendeth noght so a-wey,Erst wole I wite moore.For lope he so lightly,Laughen he wolde;And eft the boldere beTo bete myne hewen;But Reson have ruthe on hym,He shal restein my stokkes;And that as longe as he lyveth,2300But lownesse hym borwe."Som men radde Reson thoTo have ruthe on that shrewe,And for to counseille the kyng,And Conscience after;That Mede moste be maynpernourReson thei bi-soughte."Reed me noght," quod Reson,"No ruthe to have,Til lordes and ladies2310Loven alle truthe,And haten alle harlotrie,To heren or to mouthen it."Til Parnelles purfilleBe put in hire hucche,And childrene cherissyngeBe chastynge with yerdes,And harlottes holynesseBe holden for an hyne."Til clerkene coveitise be2320To clothe the povere and fede,And religiouse romerisRecordarein hir cloistres,As seyntBeneythem bad,Bernard and Fraunceis,And til prechours prechyngeBe preved on hemselve."Til the kynges counseilBe the commune profit,Til bisshopes bayardes2330Ben beggeris chaumbres,Hire haukes and hire houndesHelp to povere religious."And til seint James be soughtThere I shal assigne,That no man go toGalisBut if he go for evere;—And alle Rome renneres,For robberes biyonde,Bere no silver over see2340That signe of kyng sheweth,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!2350I shal no ruthe have,While Mede hath the maistrieIn this moot-halle.Ac I may shewe ensamples,As I se outher while,I seye it by myself," quod he,"And it so wereThat I were kyng with corouneTo kepen a reaume,Sholde nevere Wrong in this world,2360That I wite myghte,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;Fornullum malumthe manMette withinpunitum,And badnullum bonum2370Beirremuneratum."Lat youre confessour, sire kyng,Construe this unglosed;And if ye werchen it in werk,I wedde myne eris,That lawe shal ben a laborerAnd lede a-feld donge,And love shal lede thi lond,As the leef liketh."Clerkes that were confessours2380Coupled hem togideres,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-halleOn men of lawe wynke,And thei laughynge lope to hire,And left Reson manye.Waryn Wisdom2390Wynked upon Mede,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 recordedeThat Reson truthe tolde;And Wit acorded therwith,And comendede hise wordes,And the mooste peple in the halle,2400And manye of the grete,And leten Mekenesse a maister,And Mede a mansed sherewe.Love leet of hire light,And leauté yet lasse,And seiden it so heigheThat al the halle it herde,"Who so wilneth hire to wif,For welthe of hire goodes,But he be knowe for a cokewold,2410Kut of my nose."Mede mornede tho,And made hevy chere,For the mooste commune of that courtCalled hire an hore.Ac a sisour and a somonourSued hire faste,And a sherreves clerkBisherewed at the route;"For ofte have I," quod he,2420"Holpen yow at the barre,And yet yeve ye me nevereThe worth of a risshe."The kyng callede Conscience,And afterward Reson,And recordede that ResonHadde rightfully shewed;And modiliche upon MedeWith myght the kyng loked;And gan wexe wroth with lawe,2430For Mede almoost hadde shent it;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,2440By the Marie of hevene!I wole have leauté in lawe,And lete be al youre janglyng;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 leodes2450To lede thus evene.""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 buxomnesseBe of myn assent.""And I assente," seith the kyng,"By seinte Marie my lady!By my counseil commune,2460Of clerkes and of erles;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,2472Lyve we togideres."

Passus Quartus de Visione, ut supra.

"C2079ESSETH," seith the kyng,"I suffre yow no lenger;Ye shul saughtne for sothe,And serve me bothe.Kis hire," quod the kyng,"Conscience, I hote."

"C2079

2079

ESSETH," seith the kyng,

"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."

"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,2090To Conscience thanne,"Rape thee to ryde,And Reson thow fecche;Comaunde hym that he comeMy counseil to here,For he shal rule my reaumeAnd rede me the beste,And acounte with thee, Conscience,So me Crist helpe!How thowlernestthe peple,2100The lered and the lewed."

"And I comaunde thee," quod the kyng,

2090

To Conscience thanne,

"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 thowlernestthe peple,

2100

The lered and the lewed."

"I am fayn of that foreward,"Seide the freke thanne,And ryt right to Reson,And rouneth in his ere,And seide as the kyng bad,And sithen took his leve.

"I am fayn of that foreward,"

Seide the freke thanne,

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,2110Curteis of speche,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 welWith witty-wordes gerthes,And hange on hym the hevy brydel2120To holde his heed lowe,For he wol make 'wehee!'Twies er he be there."

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

"Reste thee a while."

And called Caton his knave,

2110

Curteis of speche,

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

2120

To holde his heed lowe,

For he wol make 'wehee!'

Twies er he be there."

Thanne Conscience upon his capulCarieth forth faste,And Reson with hym ryt,Rownynge togideres,Whiche maistries MedeMaketh on this erthe.

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,2130And Witty his feere,Folwed hym faste,For thei hadde to dooneIn th'escheker and in the chauncerye,To ben descharged of thynges;And riden faste, for Reson sholdeRede hem the beste,For to save hem for silverFrom shame and from harmes.And Conscience knew hem wel,2140Thei loved coveitise;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,2150etc.

Oon Waryn Wisdom,

2130

And Witty his feere,

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,

For to save hem for silver

From shame and from harmes.

And Conscience knew hem wel,

2140

Thei loved coveitise;

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,

2150

etc.

"Thei ne yeveth noght of GodOne goose wynge.=Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc.

"Thei ne yeveth noght of God

One goose wynge.

Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc.

"For woot God thei wolde do mooreFor a dozeyne chicknes,Or as manye capons,Or for a seem of otes,Than for the love of oure Lord,2160Or alle hise leeve seintes.For-thi Reson lat hem ride,Tho riche by hemselve,For Conscience knoweth hem noght,Ne Crist, as I trowe."And thanne Reson rood fasteThe righte heighe gate,As Conscience hym kenned,Til thei come to the kynge.

"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,

2160

Or alle hise leeve seintes.

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 thanne2170Com ayeins Reson,And bitwene hymself andhis soneSette hym on benche;And wordeden wel wiselyA gret while togideres.

Curteisly the kyng thanne

2170

Com ayeins Reson,

And bitwene hymself andhis 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 willeHadde his wif taken,And how he ravysshede Rose2180Reginaldes loove,And Margrete of hir maydenhedeMaugree hire chekes."Bothe my gees and my grysHise gadelynges feccheth,I dar noght for fere of hemFighte ne chide.He borwed of me Bayard,He broughte hym hom nevere,Ne no ferthyng therfore,2190For ought I koude plede.He maynteneth hise menTo 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 atailléFor ten quarters of otes;And yet he beteth me therto,2200And lyth by my mayde.I am noght hardy for hymUnnethe to loke."

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

2180

Reginaldes loove,

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,

2190

For ought I koude plede.

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 ataillé

For ten quarters of otes;

And yet he beteth me therto,

2200

And lyth by my mayde.

I am noght hardy for hym

Unnethe to loke."

The kyng knew he seide sooth,For Conscience hym toldeThat Wrong was a wikked luft,And wroghte muche sorwe.

The kyng knew he seide sooth,

For Conscience hym tolde

That Wrong was a wikked luft,

And wroghte muche sorwe.

Wrong was afered thanne,And Wisdom he soughte,To maken pees with hise pens;2210And profred hym manye,And seide, "Hadde I love of my lord the kyng,Litel wolde I recche,Theigh Pees and his powerPleyned hym evere."

Wrong was afered thanne,

And Wisdom he soughte,

To maken pees with hise pens;

2210

And profred hym manye,

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

Litel wolde I recche,

Theigh Pees and his power

Pleyned hym evere."

Tho wente WisdomAnd sire Waryn the Witty,For that Wrong hadde y-wroghtSo wikked a dede,And warnede Wrong tho2220With swich a wis tale,"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 londLyth in his grace."

Tho wente Wisdom

And sire Waryn the Witty,

For that Wrong hadde y-wroght

So wikked a dede,

And warnede Wrong tho

2220

With swich a wis tale,

"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 Wrong2230Wisdom ful yerne,To maken pees with his pens,Handy dandy payed.

Thanne wowede Wrong

2230

Wisdom ful yerne,

To maken pees with his pens,

Handy dandy payed.

Wisdom and Wit thanneWenten togidres,And token Mede myd hemMercy to wynne.

Wisdom and Wit thanne

Wenten togidres,

And token Mede myd hem

Mercy to wynne.

Pees putte forth his heed,And his panne blody,"Withouten gilt, God it woot,2240Gat I this scathe;Conscience and the communeKnowen the sothe."

Pees putte forth his heed,

And his panne blody,

"Withouten gilt, God it woot,

2240

Gat I this scathe;

Conscience and the commune

Knowen the sothe."

Ac Wisdom and WitWere aboute faste,To overcomen the kyngWith catel, if thei myghte.

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 werkes2250Sholde wo tholie;And comaundede a constableTo casten hym in irens,And lete hym noght thise seven yerSeen his feet ones.

The kyng swor by Crist,

And by his crowne bothe,

That Wrong for hise werkes

2250

Sholde wo tholie;

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,2260And buggen hym boote,And so amenden that is mys-doAnd evere moore the bettre."

"God woot," quod Wisdom,

"That were noght the beste;

And he amendes nowe make,

Lat maynprise hym have,

And be borgh for his bale,

2260

And buggen hym boote,

And so amenden that is mys-do

And evere moore the bettre."

Wit acorded therwith,And seide the same,"Bettre is that booteBale a-doun brynge,Than bale be y-bet,And boote never 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,2270And mercy she bi-soughte,And profrede Pees a presentAl of pure golde:"Have this, man, of me," quod she,"To amenden thi scathe,For I wol wage for WrongHe wol do so na-moore."

And thanne gan Mede to mengen hire,

2270

And mercy she bi-soughte,

And profrede Pees a present

Al of pure golde:

"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 thannePreyde to the kynge,To have mercy on that man2280That mys-dide hym so ofte;"For he hath waged me wel,As Wisdom hym taughte,And I forgyve hym that giltWith a good wille,So that the kyng assente,I kan seye no bettre;For Mede hath me amendes maad,I may na-moore axe."

Pitously Pees thanne

Preyde to the kynge,

To have mercy on that man

2280

That mys-dide hym so ofte;

"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,2290"So me Crist helpe!Wrong wendeth noght so a-wey,Erst wole I wite moore.For lope he so lightly,Laughen he wolde;And eft the boldere beTo bete myne hewen;But Reson have ruthe on hym,He shal restein my stokkes;And that as longe as he lyveth,2300But lownesse hym borwe."

"Nay," quod the kyng tho,

2290

"So me Crist helpe!

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 restein my stokkes;

And that as longe as he lyveth,

2300

But lownesse hym borwe."

Som men radde Reson thoTo have ruthe on that shrewe,And for to counseille the kyng,And Conscience after;That Mede moste be maynpernourReson thei bi-soughte.

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.

"Reed me noght," quod Reson,"No ruthe to have,Til lordes and ladies2310Loven alle truthe,And haten alle harlotrie,To heren or to mouthen it.

"Reed me noght," quod Reson,

"No ruthe to have,

Til lordes and ladies

2310

Loven alle truthe,

And haten alle harlotrie,

To heren or to mouthen it.

"Til Parnelles purfilleBe put in hire hucche,And childrene cherissyngeBe chastynge with yerdes,And harlottes holynesseBe holden for an hyne.

"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 be2320To clothe the povere and fede,And religiouse romerisRecordarein hir cloistres,As seyntBeneythem bad,Bernard and Fraunceis,And til prechours prechyngeBe preved on hemselve.

"Til clerkene coveitise be

2320

To clothe the povere and fede,

And religiouse romeris

Recordarein hir cloistres,

As seyntBeneythem bad,

Bernard and Fraunceis,

And til prechours prechynge

Be preved on hemselve.

"Til the kynges counseilBe the commune profit,Til bisshopes bayardes2330Ben beggeris chaumbres,Hire haukes and hire houndesHelp to povere religious.

"Til the kynges counseil

Be the commune profit,

Til bisshopes bayardes

2330

Ben beggeris chaumbres,

Hire haukes and hire houndes

Help to povere religious.

"And til seint James be soughtThere I shal assigne,That no man go toGalisBut if he go for evere;—And alle Rome renneres,For robberes biyonde,Bere no silver over see2340That signe of kyng sheweth,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 til seint James be sought

There I shal assigne,

That no man go toGalis

But if he go for evere;—

And alle Rome renneres,

For robberes biyonde,

Bere no silver over see

2340

That signe of kyng sheweth,

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!2350I shal no ruthe have,While Mede hath the maistrieIn this moot-halle.Ac I may shewe ensamples,As I se outher while,I seye it by myself," quod he,"And it so wereThat I were kyng with corouneTo kepen a reaume,Sholde nevere Wrong in this world,2360That I wite myghte,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;Fornullum malumthe manMette withinpunitum,And badnullum bonum2370Beirremuneratum.

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

2350

I shal no ruthe have,

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,

2360

That I wite myghte,

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;

Fornullum malumthe man

Mette withinpunitum,

And badnullum bonum

2370

Beirremuneratum.

"Lat youre confessour, sire kyng,Construe this unglosed;And if ye werchen it in werk,I wedde myne eris,That lawe shal ben a laborerAnd lede a-feld donge,And love shal lede thi lond,As the leef liketh."

"Lat youre confessour, sire kyng,

Construe this unglosed;

And if ye werchen it in werk,

I wedde myne eris,

That lawe shal ben a laborer

And lede a-feld donge,

And love shal lede thi lond,

As the leef liketh."

Clerkes that were confessours2380Coupled hem togideres,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-halleOn men of lawe wynke,And thei laughynge lope to hire,And left Reson manye.Waryn Wisdom2390Wynked upon Mede,And seide, "Madame, I am youre man,What so my mouth jangle;I falle in floryns," quod that freke,"And faile speche ofte."

Clerkes that were confessours

2380

Coupled hem togideres,

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

2390

Wynked upon Mede,

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 recordedeThat Reson truthe tolde;And Wit acorded therwith,And comendede hise wordes,And the mooste peple in the halle,2400And manye of the grete,And leten Mekenesse a maister,And Mede a mansed sherewe.

Alle rightfulle recordede

That Reson truthe tolde;

And Wit acorded therwith,

And comendede hise wordes,

And the mooste peple in the halle,

2400

And manye of the grete,

And leten Mekenesse a maister,

And Mede a mansed sherewe.

Love leet of hire light,And leauté yet lasse,And seiden it so heigheThat al the halle it herde,"Who so wilneth hire to wif,For welthe of hire goodes,But he be knowe for a cokewold,2410Kut of my nose."

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,

But he be knowe for a cokewold,

2410

Kut of my nose."

Mede mornede tho,And made hevy chere,For the mooste commune of that courtCalled hire an hore.Ac a sisour and a somonourSued hire faste,And a sherreves clerkBisherewed at the route;"For ofte have I," quod he,2420"Holpen yow at the barre,And yet yeve ye me nevereThe worth of a risshe."

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,

2420

"Holpen yow at the barre,

And yet yeve ye me nevere

The worth of a risshe."

The kyng callede Conscience,And afterward Reson,And recordede that ResonHadde rightfully shewed;And modiliche upon MedeWith myght the kyng loked;And gan wexe wroth with lawe,2430For Mede almoost hadde shent it;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,2440By the Marie of hevene!I wole have leauté in lawe,And lete be al youre janglyng;And as moost folk witnesseth wel,Wrong shal be demed."

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,

2430

For Mede almoost hadde shent it;

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,

2440

By the Marie of hevene!

I wole have leauté in lawe,

And lete be al youre janglyng;

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 leodes2450To lede thus evene."

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

2450

To lede thus evene."

"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 buxomnesseBe of myn assent."

"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,2460Of clerkes and of erles;Ac redily, Reson,Thow shalt noght ride fro me,For, as longe as I lyve,Lete thee I nelle."

"And I assente," seith the kyng,

"By seinte Marie my lady!

By my counseil commune,

2460

Of clerkes and of erles;

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."

"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,2472Lyve we togideres."

"And I graunte," quod the kyng,

"Goddes forbode ellis!

Als longe as oure lyf lasteth,

2472

Lyve we togideres."

Filler.

Passus Quintus de Visione, ut supra.T2473HE kyng and hise knyghtesTo the kirke wente,To here matyns of the dayAnd the masse after.Thanne waked I of my wynkyng,And wo was withalle,That I ne hadde slept sadder,2480And y-seighen moore.Ac er I hadde faren a furlong,Feyntise me hente,That I ne myghte ferther a footFor 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 moore2490Than I bifore of tolde,For I seigh the feld ful of folk,That I bifore of seide,And how Reson gan arayen hymAl the reaume to preche,And with a cros afore the kyngComsede thus to techen.He preved thatthise pestilencesWere for pure synne,And the south-westrene wynd2500On Saterday at evenWas pertliche for pure pride,And for no point ellis;Pyries and plum-treesWere puffed to the erthe,In ensaumple that the seggesSholden do the bettre;Beches and brode okesWere blowen to the grounde,Turned upward hire tailes,2510In tokenynge of dredeThat dedly synne er domes-dayShal for-doon hem alle.Of this matere I myghteMamelen ful longe;Ac I shal seye as I saugh,So me God helpe!How pertly afore the pepleReson bigan to preche.He bad Wastour go werche,2520What he best kouthe,And wynnen his wastyngWith som maner crafte.He preide PerneleHir purfil to lete,And kepe it in hire cofreFor catel at hire nede.Tomme Stowne he taughteTo take two staves,And fecche Felice hom2530Fro the wynen pyne.He warnede WatteHis wif was to blame,For hire heed was worth half marc,And his hood noght worth a grote;And bad Bette kutteA bough outher tweye,And bete Beton therwith,But if she wolde werche.And thanne he chargede chapmen2540To chastizen hir children,Late no wynnyng hem for-wanyeWhile thei be yonge,Ne for no poustee of pestilencePlese hem noght out of reson."My sire seide so to me,And so dide my dame,That the levere childThe moore loore bihoveth;And Salomon seide the same,2550ThatSapiencemade,Qui parcit virgæ, odit filium.The Englissh of this Latyn is,Who so wole it knoweWho so spareth the spring,Spilleth hise children."And sithen he prechede prelatesAnd preestes togideres,"That ye prechen to the peple,Preve it on yowselve,2560And dooth it in dede,It shal drawe yow to goode;If ye leven as ye leren us,We shul leve yow the bettre."And sithen he radde ReligionHir rule to holde;"Lest the kyng and his conseilYoure comunes apeire,And be stywardes of youre stedes,Til ye be ruled bettre."2570And sithen he counseiled the kyngHis commune to lovye;"It is thi trewe tresor,And tryacle at thy nede."And sithen he preide the popeHave 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,2580Moore than gold outher giftes,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,2590For he may save yow alle;Qui cum patre et filio,That faire hem bi-falleThat seweth my sermon."And thus seyde Reson.Thanne ran Repentaunce,And reherced his teme:And garte Wille to wepeWater with hise eighen.Pernele Proud-herte2600Platte hire to the erthe,And lay longe er she loked,And "Lord, mercy!" cryde,And bi-highte to hymThat us alle made,She sholde unsowen hir serk,And sette there an heyre,To affaiten hire flessheThat fiers was to synne."Shal nevere heigh herte me hente,2610But holde I wole me loweAnd suffre to be mys-seyd,And so dide I nevere;And now I wole meke me,And mercy biseche,For al this I haveHated in myn herte."Thanne Lechour seide, "Allas!"And on oure Lady he cryde,To maken mercy for hise mys-dedes2620Bitwene God and his soule;With that he sholde the Saterday,Seven yer therafter,Drynke but myd the doke,And dyne but ones.Envye with hevy herteAsked after shrifte,And carefullymea culpaHe comsed to shewe.He was as pale as a pelet,2630In the palsy he semed;And clothed in a kaurymaury,I kouthe it nought discryve,In kirtel and courtepy,And a knyf by his syde;Of a freres frokkeWere the fore-sleves;And as a leek that hadde y-leyeLonge in the sonne,So loked he with lene chekes2640Lourynge foule.His body was to-bollen for wrathe,That he boot hise lippes;And wryngynge he yede with the fust,To wreke hymself he thoughteWith werkes or with wordes,Whan he seyghe his tyme.Ech a word that he warpeWas of a neddres tonge;Of chidynge and of chalangynge2650Was his chief liflode,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-wonneA weye of Essex chese."I have a neghebore by me,2660I have anoyed hym ofte,And lowen on hym to lordesTo doon hym lese his silver,And maad his frendes be his foonThorugh my false tonge;His grace and his goode happesGreven me ful soore."Bitwene manye and manyeI make debate ofte,That bothe lif and lyme2670Is lost thorugh my speche.And whan I mete hym in marketThat 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,2680And sholde knele to the roode,And preye for the pepleAs the preest techeth,For pilgrymes and for palmeres,For al the peple after,Thanne I crye on my kneesThat Crist gyve hem sorwe,That beren awey my bolleAnd my broke shete."Awey fro the auter thanne2690Turne I myne eighen,And bi-holde EleyneHath 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,2700There I do wel werse.Who so under-nymeth me heroI hate hym dedly after;I wolde that ech a wightWere 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,2710For bitter of my galle."I myghte noght ete many yeresAs a man oughte,For envye and yvel wilIs yvel to defie.May no sugre ne swete thyngAswage my swellyng?Ne nodiapenidionDryve it fro myn herte?Ne neither shrifte ne shame,2720But who so shrape my mawe?""Yis redily," quod Repentaunce,And radde hym to the beste,"Sorwe of synnesIs 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 be2730Dwellyng at Londone,And gart bakbityng be a brocourTo blame mennes ware;Whan he solde and I nought,Thanne was I redyTo 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,2740With two white eighen;And nevelynge with the nose,And his nekke hangyng."I am Wrathe," quod he,"I was som tyme a frere,And the coventes gardynerFor to graffen impes;On lymitours and listresLesynges I ymped,Til thei beere leves of lowe speche,2750Lordes to plese,And sithen thei blosmede a-broodIn boure to here shriftes;And now is fallen therof a fruyt,That folk han wel levereShewen hire shriftes to hem,Than shryve hem to hir persons."And now persons han perceyvedThat freres parte with hem,Thise possessioners preche2760And deprave freres."And freres fyndeth hem in defaute,As folk bereth witnesse,That whan thei preche the pepleIn many places aboute,I Wrathe walke with hem,And wisse hem of my bokes.Thus thei speken of my spiritualté,That either despiseth oother,Til thei be bothe beggers2770And by my spiritualté libben,Or ellis al richeAnd ryden aboute.I Wrathe reste nevere,That I ne moste folweThis wikked folk,For swich is my grace."I have an aunte to nonne,And an abbesse bothe;Hir hadde levere swowe or swelte,2780Than suffre any peyne,"I have be cook in hir kichene,And the covent servedManye 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,2790Ac a cokewold was hir sire;And dame Pernele a preestes fyle,Prioresse worth she nevere,For she hadde child in chirie-tyme,Al our chapitre it wiste."Of wikkede wordesI Wrathe hire wortes made,Til 'thow lixt' and 'thow lixt'Lopen out at ones,And either hite oother2800Under the cheke;Hadde thei had knyves, by CristHir either hadde kild oother."Seint Gregory was a good pope,And hadde a good forwit,That no prioresse were preest,For that he ordeyned;They hadde thanne beninfamesthe firste day,Thei kan so yvele hele conseil."Among monkes I myghte be,2810Ac many tyme I shonye it;For there ben manye felle frekesMy feeris to aspie,Bothe priour and suppriourAnd ourepater abbas;And if I telle any tales,Thei taken hem togideres,And doon me faste frydayesTo breed and to watre,And am chalanged in the chapitre hous2820As I a child were,And baleised on the bare ers,And no brech bitwene.For-thi have I no likyngWith 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 mouth2830Wel fyve dayes after.Al the wikkednesse that I wootBy any of oure bretheren,I couthe it in oure cloistre,That al oure covent woot it.""Now repente thee," quod Repentaunce,"And reherce thow nevereCounseil that thow knowestBy contenaunce ne by right;And drynk nat over delicatly,2840Ne to depe neither,That thi wille by cause therofTo wrathe myghte turne.Esto sobrius," he seide,And assoiled me after,And bad me wilne to wepeMy wikkednesse to amende.And thanne cam Coveitise,Kan I hym naght discryve,So hungrily and holwe2850Sire Hervyhym loked.He was bitel-browed,And baber-lipped also,With two blered eighenAs a blynd hagge;And as a letheren pursLolled hise chekes,Wel sidder than his chynThei chyveled for elde;And as a bonde-man of his bacon2860His berd was bi-draveled,With an hood on his heed,A lousy hat above,And in a tawny tabardOf twelf wynter age,Al so torn and baudy,And ful of lys crepyng,But if that a lous coutheHan lopen the bettre,She sholde noght han walked on that welthe,2870So was it thred-bare."I have ben coveitous," quod this caytif,"I bi-knowe it here,For som tyme I servedSymme-atte-Style,And was his prentice y-plightHis profit to wayte."First I lerned to lye,A leef outher tweyne;Wikkedly to weye2880Was my firste lesson;To Wy and to WynchestreI wente to the feyre,With many manere marchaundise,As my maister me highte.Ne hadde the grace of gyle y-goAmonges my chaffare,It hadde ben unsold this seven yer,So me God helpe!"Thanne drough I me among drapiers,2890My donet to lerne,To drawe the liser along,The lenger it semed;Among the riche rayesI 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 twelve2900Hadde tolled out thrittene."My wif was a webbe,And wollen cloth made;She spak to spynnesteresTo spynnen it oute,Ac the pound that she paied byPeised a quatron mooreThan myn owene auncer,Who so weyed truthe."I boughte hire barly-malt,2910She brew it to selle,Peny ale and puddyng aleShe poured togideres,For laborers and for lowe folkThat 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,2920God woot, no lesse!And yet it cam in cuppe-mele,This craft my wif used.Rose the RegraterWas hire righte name;She hath holden hukkeryeAl hire lif tyme.Ac I swere now, so thee ik!That synne wol I lete,And nevere wikkedly weye,2930Ne wikke chaffare use;But wenden to Walsyngham,And my wif als,And biddethe Roode of BromholmBrynge me out of dette.""Repentedestow evere?" quod Repentaunce,"Or restitucion madest.""Yis, ones I was y-herberwed," quod he,"With an heep of chapmen,I roos whan thei were a-reste2940And riflede hire males.""That was no restitucion," quod Repentaunce,"But a robberis thefte;Thow haddest be the bettre worthiBen hanged therfore,Than for al thatThat thow hast here shewed.""I wende riflynge were restitucion," quod he,"For I lerned nevere rede on boke;And I kan noFrensshe, in feith,2950But of the fertheste ende ofNorthfolk.""Usedestow evere usurie?" quod Repentaunce,"In al thi lif tyme.""Nay sothly," he seide,"Save in my youtheI lerned among LumbardesAnd Jewes a lesson,To weye pens with a peis,And pare the hevyeste,And lene it for love of the cros,2960To legge a wed and lese it.Swiche dedes I dide write,If he his day breke,I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages,Than thorughmiseretur et commodat."I have lent lordesAnd ladies my chaffare,And ben hire brocour after,And bought it myselve;Eschaunges and chevysaunces2970With swich chaffare I dele,And lene folk that lese woleA lippe at every noble,And with Lumbardes lettresI 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,2980Loved me nevere after,And have y-maad many a knyghtBothe mercer and draper,That payed nevere for his prentishodeNoght 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,2990For coveitise of hir skynnes.""Artow manlich among thi negheboresOf thi mete and drynke?""I am holden," quod he, "as hendeAs 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 grounde3000Thi good wel to bi-sette,Ne thyne heires after theeHave joie of that thow wynnest,Ne thyne executours wel bi-setteThe silver that thow hem levest;And that was wonne with wrongWith wikked men be despended.For were I frere of that housTher good feith and charité is,I nolde cope us with thi catel,3010Ne oure kirk amende,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 witterlyThow were swich as thow tellest.Servus es alterius,Dum fercula pinguia quæris;Pane tuo potius3020Vescere, liber eris."Thow art an unkynde creature,I kan thee noght assoille,Til thow make restitucionAnd rekene with hem alle;And sithen that Reson rolle itIn the registre of hevene,That thow hast maad ech man good,I may thee noght assoile.Non dimittitur peccatum, donec restituatur3030oblatum."For alle that han of thi good,Have God my trouthe!Ben holden at the heighe doomTo helpe thee to restitue;And who so leveth noght this be sooth,Loke in the Sauter glose,InMiserere mei, Deus,Wher I mene truthe;Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti, etc.3040Shal nevere werkman in this worldThryve 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 ratherReconforted hym in this manere."Have mercy in thi mynde,And with thi mouth biseche it;3050For Goddes mercy is mooreThan alle hise othere werkes.And al the wikkednesse in this worldThat man myghte werche or thynke,Nis na-moore to the mercy of God,Than in the see a gleede.Omnis iniquitas quantum ad misericordiamDei, est quasi scintillain medio maris."For-thi have mercy in thy mynde,3060And marchaundise leve it;For thow hast no good groundTo gete thee with a wastel,But if it were with thi tonge,Or ellis with thi two hondes.For the good that thow hast getenBigan al with falshede,And as longe as thow lyvest therwith,Thow yeldest noght, but borwest."And if thow wite nevere to whiche,3070Ne whom to restitue,Ber it to the bisshope,And bid hym of his graceBi-sette it hymself,As best is for thi soule;For he shal answere for theeAt the heighe dome,For thee and for many moThat man shal yeve a rekenyng,What he lerned yow in Lente,3080Leve thow noon oother,And what he lente yow of oure Lordes goodTo lette yow fro synne."Now bi-gynneth GlotonFor to go to shrifte,And karieth hym to kirke-wardeHis coupe to shewe;And Beton the brewestereBad hym good morwe,And asked at hym with that,3090Whider-ward he wolde."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,3100"And a pound of garleek,And a ferthyng-worth of fenel-seedFor fastynge dayes."Thanne goth Glotin in,And grete othes after.Cesse the souteresseSat on the benche;Watte the warner,And his wif bothe;Tymme the tynkere,3110And tweyne of his prentices;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,3120A rakiere of Chepe,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 chereGood ale to hanselle.Clement the Cobelere3130Caste of his cloke,And at the newe feireHe nempned it to selle,Hikke the hakeney-manHitte his hood after,And bad Bette the bocherBen on his syde.Ther were chapmen y-choseThis chaffare to preise,That who so hadde the hood3140Sholde han amendes of the cloke.Two risen up in rape,And rouned togideres,And preised thise peny-worthesA-part by hemselve;Thei kouthe noght by hir conscienceAcorden in truthe,Til Robyn the ropereAroos by the southe,And nempned hym for a nounpere,3150That no debat nere.Hikke the hostilerHadde the cloke,In covenaunt that ClementSholde the cuppe fille,And have Hikkes hood hostiler,And holden hym y-served.And who so repented rathestSholde aryse after,And greten sire Gloton3160With a galon ale.There was laughynge and lourynge,And "lat go the cuppe;"And seten so till even-song,And songen umwhile,Til Gloton hadde y-glubbedA galon and a gille.Hise guttes bigonne to gothelenAs two gredy sowes;He pissed a potel3170In a pater-noster while,And blew his rounde ruwetAt his rugge-bones ende,That alle that herde that hornHeld hir noses after,And wisshed it hadde been wexedWith a wispe of firses.He myghte neither steppe ne stonde,Er he his staf hadde;And thanne gan he to go3180Like a gle-mannes bicche,Som tyme aside,And som tyme arere,As who so leith lynesFor 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 cobelere3190Kaughte hym by the myddel,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 cawdelIn Clementes lappe;Is noon so hungry houndIn Hertford shireDorste lape of that levynges,3200So un-lovely thei smaughte.With al the wo of this world,His wif and his wencheBaren hym hom to his bed,And broughte hym therinne;And after al this excesseHe hadde an accidie,That he sleep Saterday and Sonday,Til sonne yede to reste.Thanne waked he of his wynkyng,3210And wiped hise eighen;The firste word that he warpeWas "where is the bolle?"His wif gan edwyte hym tho,How wikkedly he lyvede;And Repentaunce right soRebuked hym that tyme,"As thow with wordes and werkesHas wroght yvele in thi lyve,Shryve thee, and be shamed therof,3220And shewe it with thi mouthe.""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,3230And som tyme at nones,That I Gloton girte it upEr I hadde gon a myle,An y-spilt that myghte be sparedAnd spended on som hungry;Over delicatly on fastyng-dayesDronken and eten bothe,And sat som tyme so longe there,That I sleep and eet at ones.For love of tales in tavernes3240And for drynke, the moore I dyned;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 lifThat he lyved hadde;And avowed to faste,3250"For hunger or for thurste,Shal nevere fyssh on FrydayDefyen in my wombe,Til abstinence myn aunteHave gyve me leeve;And yet have I hated hireAl my lif tyme."Thanne cam Sleuthe al bi-slabered,With two slymy eighen;"I moste sitte," seide the segge,3260"Or ellis sholde I nappe.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 ryseEr I were ripe to dyne."He bigan Benedicite with a bolk,And his brest knokked,And raxed and rored,3270And rutte at the laste."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 kanrymes of Robyn Hood,And Randolf erl of Chestre;Ac neither of oure Lord ne of oure Lady3280The leeste that evere was maked."I have maad avowes fourty,And foryete hem on the morwe;I perfournede nevere penaunceAs the preest me highte;Ne right sory for my synnesYet was I nevere.And if I bidde any bedes,But if it be in wrathe,That I telle with my tonge3290Is two myle fro myn herte.I am ocupied eche day,Haly-day and oother,With ydel tales at the ale,And outher while at chirche;Goddes peyne and his passionFul selde thenke I on it."I visited nevere feble men,Ne fettred folk in puttes;I have levere here an harlotrye,3300Or a somer game of souters,Or lesynge to laughen atAnd bi-lye my neghebores,Than al that evere Marc made,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,3310And thanne go to the freres.Come I toIte, 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 parsonPassynge thritty wynter,And yet can I neyther solne ne synge,3320Ne seintes lyves rede;But I kan fynden in a feld,Or in a furlang, an hare,Bettre than inBeatus vir,Or inBeati omnes,Construe oon clause welAnd kenne it to my parisshens.I kan holde love-dayes,And here a reves rekenyng;Ac in canon nor in decretals3330I kan noght rede a lyne."If I bigge and borwe aught,But if it be y-tailed,I foryete it as yerne;And if men me it axeSixe sithes or sevene,I forsake it with othes;And thus tene I trewe menTen hundred tymes."And my servauntz som tyme3340Hir salarie is bi-hynde;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 had3350Som del haukes maneres,I am noght lured with love,But ther ligge aught under the thombe."The kyndenesse that myn even cristeneKidde me fernyere,Sixty sithes I SleutheHave foryete it siththe.In speche and in sparynge of specheY-spilt many a tymeBothe flessh and fissh,3360And manye othere vitailles,Both bred and ale,Buttre, melk, and chese,For-sleuthed in my serviceTil it myghte serve no man."I ran aboute in youthe,And yaf me naught to lerne,And evere siththe have I be beggereFor my foule sleuthe.Heu michi! quia sterilem vitam duxi3370juvenilem.""Repentedestow noght?" quod Repentaunce;And right with that he swowned,TilVigilatethe veilleFette water at hise eighen,And flatte it on his face,And faste on hym cryde,And seide, "Ware thee, for WanhopeWolde thee bi-traye,'I am sory for my synnes'3380Seye to thiselve,And beet thiself on the brest,And bidde hym of grace;For is ne gilt here so gretThat his goodnesse nys moore."Thanne sat Sleuthe up,And seyned hym swithe,And made a vow to-fore GodFor his foule sleuthe."Shal no Sonday be this seven yer,3390But siknesse it lette,That I ne shal do me er dayTo the deere chirche;And here matyns and masse,As I a monk were,Shal noon ale after meteHolde me thennes,Til I have even-song herd,I bi-hote to the roode!And yet wole I yelde ayein,3400If I so much have,Al that I wikkedly wanSithen I wit hadde."And though my liflode lakke,Leten I nelle,That ech man ne shal have his,Er I hennes wende;And with the residue and the remenaunt,Bi the Rode of Chestre!I shal seken Truthe erst3410Er I se Rome."Roberd the robbereOnRedditeloked,And for ther was noght wherof,He wepte swithe soore;Ac yet the synfulle shereweSeide to hymselve,"Crist, that on CalvarieUpon the cros deidest,ThoDysmasmy brother3420Bi-soughte yow of grace,And haddest mercy on that manFormementosake,So rewe on this robbereThatredderene have,Ne nevere wene to wynneWith craft that I owe;But for thi muchel mercyMitigacion I bi-seche,Ne dampne me noght at domes-day3430For that I dide so ille."What bi-fel of this felounI kan noght faire shewe;Wel I woot he wepte fasteWater with bothe hise eighen,And knoweliched his giltTo Crist yet eft soones,ThatPœnetentiahis pikHe sholde polshe newe,And lepe with hym over lond3440Al his lif tyme,For he hadde leyen byLatroLuciferis aunte.And thanne hadde Repentaunce ruthe,And redde hem alle to knele;"For I shal bi-seche for alle synfulleOur Saveour of grace,To amenden us of oure mysdedes,And do mercy to us alle.""Now God," quod he, "that of thi goodnesse3450Bi-gonne the world to make,And of naught madest aught, and manMoost 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 sone3460Sent was to this erthe,And bicam man of a maide,Mankynde to save:And madest thiself with thi soneAnd us synfulle y-licheFaciamus hominem ad imaginemnostram. Et alibi.Qui manetin caritate, in Deo manet, etDeus in eo."And siththe with thi selve sone3470In oure secte deidest,On Good-Fryday, for mannes sake,At ful tyme of the daye,Ther thiself ne thi soneNo sorwe in deeth feledest,But in oure secte was the sorwe,And thi sone it ladde.Captivam duxit captivitatem."The sonne for sorwe therofLees light of a tyme,3480Aboute mydday whan moost light is,And meel-tyme of seintes,Feddest with thi fresshe bloodOure fore-fadres in derknesse.Populus qui ambulabat in tenebris,vidit lucem magnam."And thorugh the light that lepe out of theeLucifer was blent.And blewe alle thi blessedInto the blisse of paradys.3490"The thridde day afterThow yedest in oure sute,A synful Marie the seigh,Er seynte Marie thi dame;And al to solace synfulleThow suffredest it so were.Non veni vocare justos sed peccatoresad pœnitentiam."And al that Marc hath y-maad,Mathew, Johan, and Lucas,3500Of thyne doughty dedesWas doon in oure armes.=Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis."And by so muche me semethThe sikerer we moweBidde and bi-seche,If it be thi wille,That art oure fader and oure brother,Be merciable to us,3510And have ruthe on thise ribaudesThat repenten hem here soore,That evere thei wrathed thee in this world,In word, thought, or dedes."Thanne hent Hope an hornOfDeus, tu conversus vivificabis,And blew it withBeati quorumRemissæ sunt iniquitates,That alle seintes in heveneSongen at ones.3520Homines et jumenta salvabis, quemadmodum=multiplicasti misericordiam tuam.A thousand of men thoThrungen togideres,Cride upward to Crist,And to his clene moder,To have grace to go with hemTruthe to seke.Ac there was wight noon so wys3530The wey thider kouthe,But blustreden forth as beestesOver bankes and hilles;Til late was and longeThat thei a leode mette,Apparailled as a paynymIn pilgrymes wise.He bar a burdoun y-boundeWith a brood liste,In a withwynde wise3540Y-wounden aboute;A bolle and a baggeHe bar by his syde,And hundred of ampullesOn 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,3550For men sholde knoweAnd se bi hise signesWhom 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,3560In manye othere places.Ye may se by my signes,That sitten on myn hatte,That I have walked ful wideIn weet and in drye,And sought goode seintesFor my soules helthe.""Knowestow aught a corsaint,That men calle Truthe?Koudestow aught wissen us the wey,3570Wher that wye dwelleth?""Nay, so me God helpe!"Seide the gome thanne,"I seigh nevere palmere,With pyk ne with scrippe,Asken after hym erTil now in this place.""Peter!" quod a plowman,And putte forth his hed,"I knowe hym as kyndely3580As clerk doth hise bokes;Conscience and kynde witKenned me to his place,And diden me suren hym sikerlyTo serven hym for evere,Bothe to sowe and to sette,The while I swynke myghte.I have ben his folwereAl this fifty wynter,Bothe y-sowen his seed,3590And suwed hise beestes,Withinne and withoutenWaited 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,3600And do what Truthe hoteth,For though I seye it myselfe,I serve hym to paye;I have myn hire wel,And outher whiles moore.He is the presteste paiereThat povere men knoweth;He ne withhalt noon hewe his hire,That he ne hath it at even;He is as lowe as a lomb,3610And lovelich of speche;And if ye wilneth to witeWhere that he dwelleth,I shal wisse you witterlyThe wey to his place.""Ye, leve Piers," quod thise pilgrimes,And profred hym huyre,For to wende with hemTo Truthes dwellyng-place."Nay, by my soules helpe!" quod Piers,3620And gan for to swere,"I nolde fange a ferthyng.For seint Thomas shryne;Truthe wolde love me the lasseA 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,3630That Crist wite the sotheThat ye loven oure Lord GodLevest of alle thynges,And thanne youre neghebores nextIn none wise apeire,Other wise than thow woldestHe wroughte to thiselve."And so boweth forth by a brook,Beth-buxom-of-speche,Til he fynden a ford,3640Youre-fadres-honoureth,Honora patrem et matrem, etc.Wadeth in that water,And wasshe yow wel therinne,And ye shul lepe the lightlokerAl youre lif tyme;And so shaltow se Swere-noght,-But-if-it-be-for-nede,-And-nameliche-on-ydel-The-name-of-God-almyghty.3650"Thanne shaltow come by a croft,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,3660Thei highte Stele-noght and Sle-noght,Strik forth by bothe,And leve hem on thi lift half,And loke noght therafter,And hold wel thyn hali-dayHeighe til even."Thanne shaltow blenche at a bergh,Bere-no-fals-witnesse,He is frythed in with florynsAnd othere fees manye;3670Loke thow plukke no plaunte there,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 courtAs cler as the sonne;The moot is of MercyThe manoir aboute,3680And alle the walles ben of Wit,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;3690The brugg is of Bidde-wel,-The-bet-may-thow-spede;Ech piler is of penaunce,Of preieres to seyntes;Of almes-dedes are the hokesThat the gates hangen on."Grace hatte the gatewarde,A good man for sothe;His man hatte Amende-yow,For many men hym knoweth;3700Telleth hym this tokene,That Truthe wite the sothe;'I perfourned the penaunceThat 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 hymTil his maister ones,3710To wayven up the wiketThat the womman shette,Tho Adam and EveEten apples un-rosted.Per Evam cunctis clausa est, et perMariam virginem patefacta est."For he hath the keye and the cliket,Though the kyng slepe.And if grace graunte theeTo go in this wise,3720Thow shalt see in thiselveTruthe in thyn herte,In a cheyne of charitéAs thow a child were,To suffren hym and segge noghtAyein thi sires wille."And be war thanne of Wrathe-thee,That is a wikked sherewe;He hath envye to hymThat in thyn herte sitteth,3730And poketh forth prideTo preise thiselven.The boldnesse of thi bienfetesMaketh thee blynd thanne;And thanne worstow dryven out as dew,And the dore closed,Keyed and cliketted,To kepe thee withouten;Happily an hundred wynterEr thow eft entre.3740Thusmyghtestowlesen his loveTo lete wel by thiselve,And nevere happily eft entre,But grace thow have."And ther are seven sustrenThat serven Truthe evere,And arn porters of the posternesThat to the place longeth."That oon hatte Abstinence,And Humilité another;3750Charité and ChastitéBen hise chief maydenes;Pacience and PeesMuche peple thei helpeth;Largenesse the lady,She let in ful manye,Heo hath holpe a thousand outOf the develes punfolde;And who is sib to thise sevene,So me God helpe!3760He is wonderly welcome,And faire underfongen.And but if ye be sibbeTo some of thise sevene,It is ful hard, by myn heed!" quod Piers,"For any of yow alleTo geten in-going at any gate there,But grace be the moore.""Now by Crist!" quod a kutte-purs"I have no kyn there."3770"Nor I," quod an ape-ward,"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 thereHath myght over alle;3780And she is sib to alle synfulle,And hire sone also,And thorugh the help of hem twoHope 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,3793I ne woot where thei bicome."

Passus Quintus de Visione, ut supra.

T2473HE kyng and hise knyghtesTo the kirke wente,To here matyns of the dayAnd the masse after.Thanne waked I of my wynkyng,And wo was withalle,That I ne hadde slept sadder,2480And y-seighen moore.Ac er I hadde faren a furlong,Feyntise me hente,That I ne myghte ferther a footFor 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 moore2490Than I bifore of tolde,For I seigh the feld ful of folk,That I bifore of seide,And how Reson gan arayen hymAl the reaume to preche,And with a cros afore the kyngComsede thus to techen.

T2473

2473

HE kyng and hise knyghtes

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,

2480

And y-seighen moore.

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

2490

Than I bifore of tolde,

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.

He preved thatthise pestilencesWere for pure synne,And the south-westrene wynd2500On Saterday at evenWas pertliche for pure pride,And for no point ellis;Pyries and plum-treesWere puffed to the erthe,In ensaumple that the seggesSholden do the bettre;Beches and brode okesWere blowen to the grounde,Turned upward hire tailes,2510In tokenynge of dredeThat dedly synne er domes-dayShal for-doon hem alle.

He preved thatthise pestilences

Were for pure synne,

And the south-westrene wynd

2500

On Saterday at even

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,

2510

In tokenynge of drede

That dedly synne er domes-day

Shal for-doon hem alle.

Of this matere I myghteMamelen ful longe;Ac I shal seye as I saugh,So me God helpe!How pertly afore the pepleReson bigan to preche.

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,2520What he best kouthe,And wynnen his wastyngWith som maner crafte.

He bad Wastour go werche,

2520

What he best kouthe,

And wynnen his wastyng

With som maner crafte.

He preide PerneleHir purfil to lete,And kepe it in hire cofreFor catel at hire nede.

He preide Pernele

Hir purfil to lete,

And kepe it in hire cofre

For catel at hire nede.

Tomme Stowne he taughteTo take two staves,And fecche Felice hom2530Fro the wynen pyne.He warnede WatteHis wif was to blame,For hire heed was worth half marc,And his hood noght worth a grote;And bad Bette kutteA bough outher tweye,And bete Beton therwith,But if she wolde werche.

Tomme Stowne he taughte

To take two staves,

And fecche Felice hom

2530

Fro the wynen pyne.

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 chapmen2540To chastizen hir children,Late no wynnyng hem for-wanyeWhile thei be yonge,Ne for no poustee of pestilencePlese hem noght out of reson."My sire seide so to me,And so dide my dame,That the levere childThe moore loore bihoveth;And Salomon seide the same,2550ThatSapiencemade,Qui parcit virgæ, odit filium.The Englissh of this Latyn is,Who so wole it knoweWho so spareth the spring,Spilleth hise children."

And thanne he chargede chapmen

2540

To chastizen hir children,

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,

2550

ThatSapiencemade,

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 prelatesAnd preestes togideres,"That ye prechen to the peple,Preve it on yowselve,2560And dooth it in dede,It shal drawe yow to goode;If ye leven as ye leren us,We shul leve yow the bettre."

And sithen he prechede prelates

And preestes togideres,

"That ye prechen to the peple,

Preve it on yowselve,

2560

And dooth it in dede,

It shal drawe yow to goode;

If ye leven as ye leren us,

We shul leve yow the bettre."

And sithen he radde ReligionHir rule to holde;"Lest the kyng and his conseilYoure comunes apeire,And be stywardes of youre stedes,Til ye be ruled bettre."

And sithen he radde Religion

Hir rule to holde;

"Lest the kyng and his conseil

Youre comunes apeire,

And be stywardes of youre stedes,

Til ye be ruled bettre."

2570And sithen he counseiled the kyngHis commune to lovye;"It is thi trewe tresor,And tryacle at thy nede."

2570

And sithen he counseiled the kyng

His commune to lovye;

"It is thi trewe tresor,

And tryacle at thy nede."

And sithen he preide the popeHave pité on holy chirche,And er he gyve any grace,Governe first hymselve.

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,2580Moore than gold outher giftes,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 han lawes to kepe,

Lat truthe be youre coveitise,

2580

Moore than gold outher giftes,

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,2590For he may save yow alle;Qui cum patre et filio,That faire hem bi-falleThat seweth my sermon."And thus seyde Reson.

"And ye that seke seynt James,

And seyntes of Rome,

Seketh seynt Truthe,

2590

For he may save yow alle;

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 wepeWater with hise eighen.

Thanne ran Repentaunce,

And reherced his teme:

And garte Wille to wepe

Water with hise eighen.

Pernele Proud-herte2600Platte hire to the erthe,And lay longe er she loked,And "Lord, mercy!" cryde,And bi-highte to hymThat us alle made,She sholde unsowen hir serk,And sette there an heyre,To affaiten hire flessheThat fiers was to synne."Shal nevere heigh herte me hente,2610But holde I wole me loweAnd suffre to be mys-seyd,And so dide I nevere;And now I wole meke me,And mercy biseche,For al this I haveHated in myn herte."

Pernele Proud-herte

2600

Platte hire to the erthe,

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,

2610

But holde I wole me lowe

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-dedes2620Bitwene God and his soule;With that he sholde the Saterday,Seven yer therafter,Drynke but myd the doke,And dyne but ones.

Thanne Lechour seide, "Allas!"

And on oure Lady he cryde,

To maken mercy for hise mys-dedes

2620

Bitwene God and his soule;

With that he sholde the Saterday,

Seven yer therafter,

Drynke but myd the doke,

And dyne but ones.

Envye with hevy herteAsked after shrifte,And carefullymea culpaHe comsed to shewe.He was as pale as a pelet,2630In the palsy he semed;And clothed in a kaurymaury,I kouthe it nought discryve,In kirtel and courtepy,And a knyf by his syde;Of a freres frokkeWere the fore-sleves;And as a leek that hadde y-leyeLonge in the sonne,So loked he with lene chekes2640Lourynge foule.

Envye with hevy herte

Asked after shrifte,

And carefullymea culpa

He comsed to shewe.

He was as pale as a pelet,

2630

In the palsy he semed;

And clothed in a kaurymaury,

I kouthe it nought discryve,

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

2640

Lourynge foule.

His body was to-bollen for wrathe,That he boot hise lippes;And wryngynge he yede with the fust,To wreke hymself he thoughteWith werkes or with wordes,Whan he seyghe his tyme.Ech a word that he warpeWas of a neddres tonge;Of chidynge and of chalangynge2650Was his chief liflode,With bakbitynge and bismere,And berynge of fals witnesse.

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

2650

Was his chief liflode,

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-wonneA weye of Essex chese.

"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,2660I have anoyed hym ofte,And lowen on hym to lordesTo doon hym lese his silver,And maad his frendes be his foonThorugh my false tonge;His grace and his goode happesGreven me ful soore.

"I have a neghebore by me,

2660

I have anoyed hym ofte,

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.

"Bitwene manye and manyeI make debate ofte,That bothe lif and lyme2670Is lost thorugh my speche.And whan I mete hym in marketThat 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!

"Bitwene manye and manye

I make debate ofte,

That bothe lif and lyme

2670

Is lost thorugh my speche.

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,2680And sholde knele to the roode,And preye for the pepleAs the preest techeth,For pilgrymes and for palmeres,For al the peple after,Thanne I crye on my kneesThat Crist gyve hem sorwe,That beren awey my bolleAnd my broke shete.

"And whan I come to the kirk,

2680

And sholde knele to the roode,

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 thanne2690Turne I myne eighen,And bi-holde EleyneHath a newe cote;I wisshe thanne it were myn,And al the web after.

"Awey fro the auter thanne

2690

Turne I myne eighen,

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,2700There I do wel werse.Who so under-nymeth me heroI hate hym dedly after;I wolde that ech a wightWere 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,2710For bitter of my galle.

"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,

2700

There I do wel werse.

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,

2710

For bitter of my galle.

"I myghte noght ete many yeresAs a man oughte,For envye and yvel wilIs yvel to defie.May no sugre ne swete thyngAswage my swellyng?Ne nodiapenidionDryve it fro myn herte?Ne neither shrifte ne shame,2720But who so shrape my mawe?"

"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 nodiapenidion

Dryve it fro myn herte?

Ne neither shrifte ne shame,

2720

But who so shrape my mawe?"

"Yis redily," quod Repentaunce,And radde hym to the beste,"Sorwe of synnesIs savacion of soules."

"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.

"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 be2730Dwellyng at Londone,And gart bakbityng be a brocourTo blame mennes ware;Whan he solde and I nought,Thanne was I redyTo lye and to loure on my neghebore,And to lakke his chaffare;I wole amende this, if I may,Thorugh myght of God almyghty."

"Amonges burgeises have I be

2730

Dwellyng at Londone,

And gart bakbityng be a brocour

To blame mennes ware;

Whan he solde and I nought,

Thanne was I redy

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,2740With two white eighen;And nevelynge with the nose,And his nekke hangyng.

Now awaketh Wrathe,

2740

With two white eighen;

And nevelynge with the nose,

And his nekke hangyng.

"I am Wrathe," quod he,"I was som tyme a frere,And the coventes gardynerFor to graffen impes;On lymitours and listresLesynges I ymped,Til thei beere leves of lowe speche,2750Lordes to plese,And sithen thei blosmede a-broodIn boure to here shriftes;And now is fallen therof a fruyt,That folk han wel levereShewen hire shriftes to hem,Than shryve hem to hir persons.

"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,

2750

Lordes to plese,

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 perceyvedThat freres parte with hem,Thise possessioners preche2760And deprave freres.

"And now persons han perceyved

That freres parte with hem,

Thise possessioners preche

2760

And deprave freres.

"And freres fyndeth hem in defaute,As folk bereth witnesse,That whan thei preche the pepleIn many places aboute,I Wrathe walke with hem,And wisse hem of my bokes.Thus thei speken of my spiritualté,That either despiseth oother,Til thei be bothe beggers2770And by my spiritualté libben,Or ellis al richeAnd ryden aboute.I Wrathe reste nevere,That I ne moste folweThis wikked folk,For swich is my grace.

"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,

Til thei be bothe beggers

2770

And by my spiritualté libben,

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,2780Than suffre any peyne,

"I have an aunte to nonne,

And an abbesse bothe;

Hir hadde levere swowe or swelte,

2780

Than suffre any peyne,

"I have be cook in hir kichene,And the covent servedManye 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,2790Ac a cokewold was hir sire;And dame Pernele a preestes fyle,Prioresse worth she nevere,For she hadde child in chirie-tyme,Al our chapitre it wiste.

"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,

2790

Ac a cokewold was hir sire;

And dame Pernele a preestes fyle,

Prioresse worth she nevere,

For she hadde child in chirie-tyme,

Al our chapitre it wiste.

"Of wikkede wordesI Wrathe hire wortes made,Til 'thow lixt' and 'thow lixt'Lopen out at ones,And either hite oother2800Under the cheke;Hadde thei had knyves, by CristHir either hadde kild oother.

"Of wikkede wordes

I Wrathe hire wortes made,

Til 'thow lixt' and 'thow lixt'

Lopen out at ones,

And either hite oother

2800

Under the cheke;

Hadde thei had knyves, by Crist

Hir either hadde kild oother.

"Seint Gregory was a good pope,And hadde a good forwit,That no prioresse were preest,For that he ordeyned;They hadde thanne beninfamesthe firste day,Thei kan so yvele hele conseil.

"Seint Gregory was a good pope,

And hadde a good forwit,

That no prioresse were preest,

For that he ordeyned;

They hadde thanne beninfamesthe firste day,

Thei kan so yvele hele conseil.

"Among monkes I myghte be,2810Ac many tyme I shonye it;For there ben manye felle frekesMy feeris to aspie,Bothe priour and suppriourAnd ourepater abbas;And if I telle any tales,Thei taken hem togideres,And doon me faste frydayesTo breed and to watre,And am chalanged in the chapitre hous2820As I a child were,And baleised on the bare ers,And no brech bitwene.For-thi have I no likyngWith 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 mouth2830Wel fyve dayes after.Al the wikkednesse that I wootBy any of oure bretheren,I couthe it in oure cloistre,That al oure covent woot it."

"Among monkes I myghte be,

2810

Ac many tyme I shonye it;

For there ben manye felle frekes

My feeris to aspie,

Bothe priour and suppriour

And ourepater 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

2820

As I a child were,

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

2830

Wel fyve dayes after.

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 nevereCounseil that thow knowestBy contenaunce ne by right;And drynk nat over delicatly,2840Ne to depe neither,That thi wille by cause therofTo wrathe myghte turne.Esto sobrius," he seide,And assoiled me after,And bad me wilne to wepeMy wikkednesse to amende.

"Now repente thee," quod Repentaunce,

"And reherce thow nevere

Counseil that thow knowest

By contenaunce ne by right;

And drynk nat over delicatly,

2840

Ne to depe neither,

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 holwe2850Sire Hervyhym loked.He was bitel-browed,And baber-lipped also,With two blered eighenAs a blynd hagge;And as a letheren pursLolled hise chekes,Wel sidder than his chynThei chyveled for elde;And as a bonde-man of his bacon2860His berd was bi-draveled,With an hood on his heed,A lousy hat above,And in a tawny tabardOf twelf wynter age,Al so torn and baudy,And ful of lys crepyng,But if that a lous coutheHan lopen the bettre,She sholde noght han walked on that welthe,2870So was it thred-bare.

And thanne cam Coveitise,

Kan I hym naght discryve,

So hungrily and holwe

2850

Sire Hervyhym loked.

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

2860

His berd was bi-draveled,

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,

2870

So was it thred-bare.

"I have ben coveitous," quod this caytif,"I bi-knowe it here,For som tyme I servedSymme-atte-Style,And was his prentice y-plightHis profit to wayte.

"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 weye2880Was my firste lesson;To Wy and to WynchestreI wente to the feyre,With many manere marchaundise,As my maister me highte.Ne hadde the grace of gyle y-goAmonges my chaffare,It hadde ben unsold this seven yer,So me God helpe!

"First I lerned to lye,

A leef outher tweyne;

Wikkedly to weye

2880

Was my firste lesson;

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,2890My donet to lerne,To drawe the liser along,The lenger it semed;Among the riche rayesI 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 twelve2900Hadde tolled out thrittene.

"Thanne drough I me among drapiers,

2890

My donet to lerne,

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

2900

Hadde tolled out thrittene.

"My wif was a webbe,And wollen cloth made;She spak to spynnesteresTo spynnen it oute,Ac the pound that she paied byPeised a quatron mooreThan myn owene auncer,Who so weyed truthe.

"My wif was a webbe,

And wollen cloth made;

She spak to spynnesteres

To spynnen it oute,

Ac the pound that she paied by

Peised a quatron moore

Than myn owene auncer,

Who so weyed truthe.

"I boughte hire barly-malt,2910She brew it to selle,Peny ale and puddyng aleShe poured togideres,For laborers and for lowe folkThat lay by hymselve.

"I boughte hire barly-malt,

2910

She brew it to selle,

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,2920God woot, no lesse!And yet it cam in cuppe-mele,This craft my wif used.Rose the RegraterWas hire righte name;She hath holden hukkeryeAl hire lif tyme.Ac I swere now, so thee ik!That synne wol I lete,And nevere wikkedly weye,2930Ne wikke chaffare use;But wenden to Walsyngham,And my wif als,And biddethe Roode of BromholmBrynge me out of dette."

"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,

2920

God woot, no lesse!

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,

2930

Ne wikke chaffare use;

But wenden to Walsyngham,

And my wif als,

And biddethe Roode of Bromholm

Brynge me out of dette."

"Repentedestow evere?" quod Repentaunce,"Or restitucion madest."

"Repentedestow evere?" quod Repentaunce,

"Or restitucion madest."

"Yis, ones I was y-herberwed," quod he,"With an heep of chapmen,I roos whan thei were a-reste2940And riflede hire males."

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

"With an heep of chapmen,

I roos whan thei were a-reste

2940

And riflede hire males."

"That was no restitucion," quod Repentaunce,"But a robberis thefte;Thow haddest be the bettre worthiBen hanged therfore,Than for al thatThat thow hast here shewed."

"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 noFrensshe, in feith,2950But of the fertheste ende ofNorthfolk."

"I wende riflynge were restitucion," quod he,

"For I lerned nevere rede on boke;

And I kan noFrensshe, in feith,

2950

But of the fertheste ende ofNorthfolk."

"Usedestow evere usurie?" quod Repentaunce,"In al thi lif tyme."

"Usedestow evere usurie?" quod Repentaunce,

"In al thi lif tyme."

"Nay sothly," he seide,"Save in my youtheI lerned among LumbardesAnd Jewes a lesson,To weye pens with a peis,And pare the hevyeste,And lene it for love of the cros,2960To legge a wed and lese it.Swiche dedes I dide write,If he his day breke,I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages,Than thorughmiseretur et commodat.

"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,

2960

To legge a wed and lese it.

Swiche dedes I dide write,

If he his day breke,

I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages,

Than thorughmiseretur et commodat.

"I have lent lordesAnd ladies my chaffare,And ben hire brocour after,And bought it myselve;Eschaunges and chevysaunces2970With swich chaffare I dele,And lene folk that lese woleA lippe at every noble,And with Lumbardes lettresI ladde gold to Rome,And took it by tale here,And tolde hem there lasse."

"I have lent lordes

And ladies my chaffare,

And ben hire brocour after,

And bought it myselve;

Eschaunges and chevysaunces

2970

With swich chaffare I dele,

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?"

"Lentestow evere lordes,

For love of hire mayntenaunce?"

"Ye, I have lent to lordes,2980Loved me nevere after,And have y-maad many a knyghtBothe mercer and draper,That payed nevere for his prentishodeNoght a peire gloves."

"Ye, I have lent to lordes,

2980

Loved me nevere after,

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?"

"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,2990For coveitise of hir skynnes."

"I have as muche pité of povere men,

As pedlere hath of cattes,

That wolde kille hem, if he cacche hem myghte,

2990

For coveitise of hir skynnes."

"Artow manlich among thi negheboresOf thi mete and drynke?"

"Artow manlich among thi neghebores

Of thi mete and drynke?"

"I am holden," quod he, "as hendeAs hound is in kichene,Amonges my neghebores, namely,Swiche a name ich have."

"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 grounde3000Thi good wel to bi-sette,Ne thyne heires after theeHave joie of that thow wynnest,Ne thyne executours wel bi-setteThe silver that thow hem levest;And that was wonne with wrongWith wikked men be despended.For were I frere of that housTher good feith and charité is,I nolde cope us with thi catel,3010Ne oure kirk amende,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 witterlyThow were swich as thow tellest.Servus es alterius,Dum fercula pinguia quæris;Pane tuo potius3020Vescere, liber eris.

"Now God lene thee nevere," quod Repentaunce,

"But thow repente the rather,

The grace on this grounde

3000

Thi good wel to bi-sette,

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,

3010

Ne oure kirk amende,

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

3020

Vescere, liber eris.

"Thow art an unkynde creature,I kan thee noght assoille,Til thow make restitucionAnd rekene with hem alle;And sithen that Reson rolle itIn the registre of hevene,That thow hast maad ech man good,I may thee noght assoile.Non dimittitur peccatum, donec restituatur3030oblatum.

"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

3030

oblatum.

"For alle that han of thi good,Have God my trouthe!Ben holden at the heighe doomTo helpe thee to restitue;And who so leveth noght this be sooth,Loke in the Sauter glose,InMiserere mei, Deus,Wher I mene truthe;Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti, etc.3040Shal nevere werkman in this worldThryve with that thow wynnest.Cum sancto sanctus eris;Construwe me this on Englisshe."

"For alle that han of thi good,

Have God my trouthe!

Ben holden at the heighe doom

To helpe thee to restitue;

And who so leveth noght this be sooth,

Loke in the Sauter glose,

InMiserere mei, Deus,

Wher I mene truthe;

Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti, etc.

3040

Shal nevere werkman in this world

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 ratherReconforted hym in this manere.

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;3050For Goddes mercy is mooreThan alle hise othere werkes.And al the wikkednesse in this worldThat man myghte werche or thynke,Nis na-moore to the mercy of God,Than in the see a gleede.Omnis iniquitas quantum ad misericordiamDei, est quasi scintillain medio maris.

"Have mercy in thi mynde,

And with thi mouth biseche it;

3050

For Goddes mercy is moore

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,3060And marchaundise leve it;For thow hast no good groundTo gete thee with a wastel,But if it were with thi tonge,Or ellis with thi two hondes.For the good that thow hast getenBigan al with falshede,And as longe as thow lyvest therwith,Thow yeldest noght, but borwest.

"For-thi have mercy in thy mynde,

3060

And marchaundise leve it;

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,

Thow yeldest noght, but borwest.

"And if thow wite nevere to whiche,3070Ne whom to restitue,Ber it to the bisshope,And bid hym of his graceBi-sette it hymself,As best is for thi soule;For he shal answere for theeAt the heighe dome,For thee and for many moThat man shal yeve a rekenyng,What he lerned yow in Lente,3080Leve thow noon oother,And what he lente yow of oure Lordes goodTo lette yow fro synne."

"And if thow wite nevere to whiche,

3070

Ne whom to restitue,

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,

3080

Leve thow noon oother,

And what he lente yow of oure Lordes good

To lette yow fro synne."

Now bi-gynneth GlotonFor to go to shrifte,And karieth hym to kirke-wardeHis coupe to shewe;And Beton the brewestereBad hym good morwe,And asked at hym with that,3090Whider-ward he wolde.

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,

3090

Whider-ward he wolde.

"To holy chirche," quod he,"For to here masse,And sithen I wole be shryven,And synne na-moore."

"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?"

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

"Gloton, woltow assaye?"

"Hastow ought in thi purs?" quod he,"Any hote spices?"

"Hastow ought in thi purs?" quod he,

"Any hote spices?"

"I have pepir and piones," quod she,3100"And a pound of garleek,And a ferthyng-worth of fenel-seedFor fastynge dayes."

"I have pepir and piones," quod she,

3100

"And a pound of garleek,

And a ferthyng-worth of fenel-seed

For fastynge dayes."

Thanne goth Glotin in,And grete othes after.Cesse the souteresseSat on the benche;Watte the warner,And his wif bothe;Tymme the tynkere,3110And tweyne of his prentices;Hikke the hakeney-man,And Hughe the nedlere;Clarice of Cokkeslane,And the clerk of the chirche;Dawe the dykere,And a dozeyne othere.

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,

3110

And tweyne of his prentices;

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,3120A rakiere of Chepe,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 chereGood ale to hanselle.

Sire Piers of Pridie,

And Pernele of Flaundres;

A ribibour, a ratoner,

3120

A rakiere of Chepe,

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 Cobelere3130Caste of his cloke,And at the newe feireHe nempned it to selle,

Clement the Cobelere

3130

Caste of his cloke,

And at the newe feire

He nempned it to selle,

Hikke the hakeney-manHitte his hood after,And bad Bette the bocherBen on his syde.

Hikke the hakeney-man

Hitte his hood after,

And bad Bette the bocher

Ben on his syde.

Ther were chapmen y-choseThis chaffare to preise,That who so hadde the hood3140Sholde han amendes of the cloke.

Ther were chapmen y-chose

This chaffare to preise,

That who so hadde the hood

3140

Sholde han amendes of the cloke.

Two risen up in rape,And rouned togideres,And preised thise peny-worthesA-part by hemselve;Thei kouthe noght by hir conscienceAcorden in truthe,Til Robyn the ropereAroos by the southe,And nempned hym for a nounpere,3150That no debat nere.

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,

3150

That no debat nere.

Hikke the hostilerHadde the cloke,In covenaunt that ClementSholde the cuppe fille,And have Hikkes hood hostiler,And holden hym y-served.And who so repented rathestSholde aryse after,And greten sire Gloton3160With a galon ale.

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

3160

With a galon ale.

There was laughynge and lourynge,And "lat go the cuppe;"And seten so till even-song,And songen umwhile,Til Gloton hadde y-glubbedA galon and a gille.Hise guttes bigonne to gothelenAs two gredy sowes;He pissed a potel3170In a pater-noster while,And blew his rounde ruwetAt his rugge-bones ende,That alle that herde that hornHeld hir noses after,And wisshed it hadde been wexedWith a wispe of firses.

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

3170

In a pater-noster while,

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 go3180Like a gle-mannes bicche,Som tyme aside,And som tyme arere,As who so leith lynesFor to lacche foweles.

He myghte neither steppe ne stonde,

Er he his staf hadde;

And thanne gan he to go

3180

Like a gle-mannes bicche,

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 cobelere3190Kaughte hym by the myddel,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 cawdelIn Clementes lappe;Is noon so hungry houndIn Hertford shireDorste lape of that levynges,3200So un-lovely thei smaughte.

And whan he drough to the dore,

Thanne dymmed his eighen;

He stumbled on the thresshfold,

And threw to the erthe.

Clement the cobelere

3190

Kaughte hym by the myddel,

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,

3200

So un-lovely thei smaughte.

With al the wo of this world,His wif and his wencheBaren hym hom to his bed,And broughte hym therinne;And after al this excesseHe hadde an accidie,That he sleep Saterday and Sonday,Til sonne yede to reste.

With al the wo of this world,

His wif and his wenche

Baren hym hom to his bed,

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,3210And wiped hise eighen;The firste word that he warpeWas "where is the bolle?"His wif gan edwyte hym tho,How wikkedly he lyvede;And Repentaunce right soRebuked hym that tyme,"As thow with wordes and werkesHas wroght yvele in thi lyve,Shryve thee, and be shamed therof,3220And shewe it with thi mouthe."

Thanne waked he of his wynkyng,

3210

And wiped hise eighen;

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,

3220

And shewe it with thi mouthe."

"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.

"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,3230And som tyme at nones,That I Gloton girte it upEr I hadde gon a myle,An y-spilt that myghte be sparedAnd spended on som hungry;Over delicatly on fastyng-dayesDronken and eten bothe,And sat som tyme so longe there,That I sleep and eet at ones.For love of tales in tavernes3240And for drynke, the moore I dyned;And hyed to the mete er noon,Whan fastyng-days were."

"And over-seyen me at my soper,

3230

And som tyme at nones,

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,

That I sleep and eet at ones.

For love of tales in tavernes

3240

And for drynke, the moore I dyned;

And hyed to the mete er noon,

Whan fastyng-days were."

"This shewynge shrift," quod Repentaunce,"Shal be meryt to the."

"This shewynge shrift," quod Repentaunce,

"Shal be meryt to the."

And thanne gan Gloton greete,And gret doel to make,For his luther lifThat he lyved hadde;And avowed to faste,3250"For hunger or for thurste,Shal nevere fyssh on FrydayDefyen in my wombe,Til abstinence myn aunteHave gyve me leeve;And yet have I hated hireAl my lif tyme."

And thanne gan Gloton greete,

And gret doel to make,

For his luther lif

That he lyved hadde;

And avowed to faste,

3250

"For hunger or for thurste,

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,3260"Or ellis sholde I nappe.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 ryseEr I were ripe to dyne."He bigan Benedicite with a bolk,And his brest knokked,And raxed and rored,3270And rutte at the laste.

Thanne cam Sleuthe al bi-slabered,

With two slymy eighen;

"I moste sitte," seide the segge,

3260

"Or ellis sholde I nappe.

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,

3270

And rutte at the laste.

"What, awake, renk!" quod Repentaunce,"And rape thee to shryfte."

"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 kanrymes of Robyn Hood,And Randolf erl of Chestre;Ac neither of oure Lord ne of oure Lady3280The leeste that evere was maked.

"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 kanrymes of Robyn Hood,

And Randolf erl of Chestre;

Ac neither of oure Lord ne of oure Lady

3280

The leeste that evere was maked.

"I have maad avowes fourty,And foryete hem on the morwe;I perfournede nevere penaunceAs the preest me highte;Ne right sory for my synnesYet was I nevere.And if I bidde any bedes,But if it be in wrathe,That I telle with my tonge3290Is two myle fro myn herte.I am ocupied eche day,Haly-day and oother,With ydel tales at the ale,And outher while at chirche;Goddes peyne and his passionFul selde thenke I on it.

"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

3290

Is two myle fro myn herte.

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,3300Or a somer game of souters,Or lesynge to laughen atAnd bi-lye my neghebores,Than al that evere Marc made,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,3310And thanne go to the freres.Come I toIte, 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 visited nevere feble men,

Ne fettred folk in puttes;

I have levere here an harlotrye,

3300

Or a somer game of souters,

Or lesynge to laughen at

And bi-lye my neghebores,

Than al that evere Marc made,

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,

3310

And thanne go to the freres.

Come I toIte, 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 parsonPassynge thritty wynter,And yet can I neyther solne ne synge,3320Ne seintes lyves rede;But I kan fynden in a feld,Or in a furlang, an hare,Bettre than inBeatus vir,Or inBeati omnes,Construe oon clause welAnd kenne it to my parisshens.I kan holde love-dayes,And here a reves rekenyng;Ac in canon nor in decretals3330I kan noght rede a lyne.

"I have be preest and parson

Passynge thritty wynter,

And yet can I neyther solne ne synge,

3320

Ne seintes lyves rede;

But I kan fynden in a feld,

Or in a furlang, an hare,

Bettre than inBeatus vir,

Or inBeati 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

3330

I kan noght rede a lyne.

"If I bigge and borwe aught,But if it be y-tailed,I foryete it as yerne;And if men me it axeSixe sithes or sevene,I forsake it with othes;And thus tene I trewe menTen hundred tymes.

"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

Ten hundred tymes.

"And my servauntz som tyme3340Hir salarie is bi-hynde;Ruthe it is to here the rekenyng,Whan we shul rede acountes.So with wikked wil and wrathe,My werkmen I paye.

"And my servauntz som tyme

3340

Hir salarie is bi-hynde;

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 had3350Som del haukes maneres,I am noght lured with love,But ther ligge aught under the thombe.

"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

3350

Som del haukes maneres,

I am noght lured with love,

But ther ligge aught under the thombe.

"The kyndenesse that myn even cristeneKidde me fernyere,Sixty sithes I SleutheHave foryete it siththe.In speche and in sparynge of specheY-spilt many a tymeBothe flessh and fissh,3360And manye othere vitailles,Both bred and ale,Buttre, melk, and chese,For-sleuthed in my serviceTil it myghte serve no man.

"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,

3360

And manye othere vitailles,

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 beggereFor my foule sleuthe.Heu michi! quia sterilem vitam duxi3370juvenilem."

"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

3370

juvenilem."

"Repentedestow noght?" quod Repentaunce;And right with that he swowned,TilVigilatethe veilleFette water at hise eighen,And flatte it on his face,And faste on hym cryde,And seide, "Ware thee, for WanhopeWolde thee bi-traye,'I am sory for my synnes'3380Seye to thiselve,And beet thiself on the brest,And bidde hym of grace;For is ne gilt here so gretThat his goodnesse nys moore."

"Repentedestow noght?" quod Repentaunce;

And right with that he swowned,

TilVigilatethe 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'

3380

Seye to thiselve,

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 GodFor his foule sleuthe."Shal no Sonday be this seven yer,3390But siknesse it lette,That I ne shal do me er dayTo the deere chirche;And here matyns and masse,As I a monk were,Shal noon ale after meteHolde me thennes,Til I have even-song herd,I bi-hote to the roode!And yet wole I yelde ayein,3400If I so much have,Al that I wikkedly wanSithen I wit hadde.

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,

3390

But siknesse it lette,

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,

3400

If I so much have,

Al that I wikkedly wan

Sithen I wit hadde.

"And though my liflode lakke,Leten I nelle,That ech man ne shal have his,Er I hennes wende;And with the residue and the remenaunt,Bi the Rode of Chestre!I shal seken Truthe erst3410Er I se Rome."

"And though my liflode lakke,

Leten I nelle,

That ech man ne shal have his,

Er I hennes wende;

And with the residue and the remenaunt,

Bi the Rode of Chestre!

I shal seken Truthe erst

3410

Er I se Rome."

Roberd the robbereOnRedditeloked,And for ther was noght wherof,He wepte swithe soore;Ac yet the synfulle shereweSeide to hymselve,"Crist, that on CalvarieUpon the cros deidest,ThoDysmasmy brother3420Bi-soughte yow of grace,And haddest mercy on that manFormementosake,So rewe on this robbereThatredderene have,Ne nevere wene to wynneWith craft that I owe;But for thi muchel mercyMitigacion I bi-seche,Ne dampne me noght at domes-day3430For that I dide so ille."

Roberd the robbere

OnRedditeloked,

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,

ThoDysmasmy brother

3420

Bi-soughte yow of grace,

And haddest mercy on that man

Formementosake,

So rewe on this robbere

Thatredderene 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

3430

For that I dide so ille."

What bi-fel of this felounI kan noght faire shewe;Wel I woot he wepte fasteWater with bothe hise eighen,And knoweliched his giltTo Crist yet eft soones,ThatPœnetentiahis pikHe sholde polshe newe,And lepe with hym over lond3440Al his lif tyme,For he hadde leyen byLatroLuciferis aunte.

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,

ThatPœnetentiahis pik

He sholde polshe newe,

And lepe with hym over lond

3440

Al his lif tyme,

For he hadde leyen byLatro

Luciferis aunte.

And thanne hadde Repentaunce ruthe,And redde hem alle to knele;"For I shal bi-seche for alle synfulleOur Saveour of grace,To amenden us of oure mysdedes,And do mercy to us alle."

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 goodnesse3450Bi-gonne the world to make,And of naught madest aught, and manMoost 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.

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

3450

Bi-gonne the world to make,

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 sone3460Sent was to this erthe,And bicam man of a maide,Mankynde to save:And madest thiself with thi soneAnd us synfulle y-licheFaciamus hominem ad imaginemnostram. Et alibi.Qui manetin caritate, in Deo manet, etDeus in eo.

"For thorugh that synne thi sone

3460

Sent was to this erthe,

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 sone3470In oure secte deidest,On Good-Fryday, for mannes sake,At ful tyme of the daye,Ther thiself ne thi soneNo sorwe in deeth feledest,But in oure secte was the sorwe,And thi sone it ladde.Captivam duxit captivitatem.

"And siththe with thi selve sone

3470

In oure secte deidest,

On Good-Fryday, for mannes sake,

At ful tyme of the daye,

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 therofLees light of a tyme,3480Aboute mydday whan moost light is,And meel-tyme of seintes,Feddest with thi fresshe bloodOure fore-fadres in derknesse.Populus qui ambulabat in tenebris,vidit lucem magnam.

"The sonne for sorwe therof

Lees light of a tyme,

3480

Aboute mydday whan moost light is,

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 theeLucifer was blent.And blewe alle thi blessedInto the blisse of paradys.

"And thorugh the light that lepe out of thee

Lucifer was blent.

And blewe alle thi blessed

Into the blisse of paradys.

3490"The thridde day afterThow yedest in oure sute,A synful Marie the seigh,Er seynte Marie thi dame;And al to solace synfulleThow suffredest it so were.Non veni vocare justos sed peccatoresad pœnitentiam.

3490

"The thridde day after

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 pœnitentiam.

"And al that Marc hath y-maad,Mathew, Johan, and Lucas,3500Of thyne doughty dedesWas doon in oure armes.=Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis.

"And al that Marc hath y-maad,

Mathew, Johan, and Lucas,

3500

Of thyne doughty dedes

Was doon in oure armes.

Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis.

"And by so muche me semethThe sikerer we moweBidde and bi-seche,If it be thi wille,That art oure fader and oure brother,Be merciable to us,3510And have ruthe on thise ribaudesThat repenten hem here soore,That evere thei wrathed thee in this world,In word, thought, or dedes."

"And by so muche me semeth

The sikerer we mowe

Bidde and bi-seche,

If it be thi wille,

That art oure fader and oure brother,

Be merciable to us,

3510

And have ruthe on thise ribaudes

That repenten hem here soore,

That evere thei wrathed thee in this world,

In word, thought, or dedes."

Thanne hent Hope an hornOfDeus, tu conversus vivificabis,And blew it withBeati quorumRemissæ sunt iniquitates,That alle seintes in heveneSongen at ones.3520Homines et jumenta salvabis, quemadmodum=multiplicasti misericordiam tuam.

Thanne hent Hope an horn

OfDeus, tu conversus vivificabis,

And blew it withBeati quorum

Remissæ sunt iniquitates,

That alle seintes in hevene

Songen at ones.

3520

Homines et jumenta salvabis, quemadmodum

multiplicasti misericordiam tuam.

A thousand of men thoThrungen togideres,Cride upward to Crist,And to his clene moder,To have grace to go with hemTruthe to seke.

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 wys3530The wey thider kouthe,But blustreden forth as beestesOver bankes and hilles;Til late was and longeThat thei a leode mette,Apparailled as a paynymIn pilgrymes wise.He bar a burdoun y-boundeWith a brood liste,In a withwynde wise3540Y-wounden aboute;A bolle and a baggeHe bar by his syde,And hundred of ampullesOn 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,3550For men sholde knoweAnd se bi hise signesWhom he sought hadde.

Ac there was wight noon so wys

3530

The wey thider kouthe,

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

3540

Y-wounden aboute;

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,

3550

For men sholde knowe

And se bi hise signes

Whom he sought hadde.

This folk frayned hym first,Fro whennes he come.

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,3560In manye othere places.Ye may se by my signes,That sitten on myn hatte,That I have walked ful wideIn weet and in drye,And sought goode seintesFor my soules helthe."

"Fram Syny," he seide,

"And fram oure Lordes sepulcre;

In Bethlem and in Babiloyne,

I have ben in bothe;

In Armonye and Alisaundre,

3560

In manye othere places.

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,3570Wher that wye dwelleth?"

"Knowestow aught a corsaint,

That men calle Truthe?

Koudestow aught wissen us the wey,

3570

Wher that wye dwelleth?"

"Nay, so me God helpe!"Seide the gome thanne,"I seigh nevere palmere,With pyk ne with scrippe,Asken after hym erTil now in this place."

"Nay, so me God helpe!"

Seide the gome thanne,

"I seigh nevere palmere,

With pyk ne with scrippe,

Asken after hym er

Til now in this place."

"Peter!" quod a plowman,And putte forth his hed,"I knowe hym as kyndely3580As clerk doth hise bokes;Conscience and kynde witKenned me to his place,And diden me suren hym sikerlyTo serven hym for evere,Bothe to sowe and to sette,The while I swynke myghte.I have ben his folwereAl this fifty wynter,Bothe y-sowen his seed,3590And suwed hise beestes,Withinne and withoutenWaited 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,3600And do what Truthe hoteth,For though I seye it myselfe,I serve hym to paye;I have myn hire wel,And outher whiles moore.He is the presteste paiereThat povere men knoweth;He ne withhalt noon hewe his hire,That he ne hath it at even;He is as lowe as a lomb,3610And lovelich of speche;And if ye wilneth to witeWhere that he dwelleth,I shal wisse you witterlyThe wey to his place."

"Peter!" quod a plowman,

And putte forth his hed,

"I knowe hym as kyndely

3580

As clerk doth hise bokes;

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,

3590

And suwed hise beestes,

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,

3600

And do what Truthe hoteth,

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;

He is as lowe as a lomb,

3610

And lovelich of speche;

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 hemTo Truthes dwellyng-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,3620And gan for to swere,"I nolde fange a ferthyng.For seint Thomas shryne;Truthe wolde love me the lasseA long tyme therafter;Ac if yow wilneth to wende wel,This is the wey thider.

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

3620

And gan for to swere,

"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,3630That Crist wite the sotheThat ye loven oure Lord GodLevest of alle thynges,And thanne youre neghebores nextIn none wise apeire,Other wise than thow woldestHe wroughte to thiselve.

"Ye moten go thorugh Mekenesse,

Both men and wyves,

Til ye come into Conscience,

3630

That Crist wite the sothe

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,3640Youre-fadres-honoureth,Honora patrem et matrem, etc.Wadeth in that water,And wasshe yow wel therinne,And ye shul lepe the lightlokerAl youre lif tyme;And so shaltow se Swere-noght,-But-if-it-be-for-nede,-And-nameliche-on-ydel-The-name-of-God-almyghty.

"And so boweth forth by a brook,

Beth-buxom-of-speche,

Til he fynden a ford,

3640

Youre-fadres-honoureth,

Honora patrem et matrem, etc.

Wadeth in that water,

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.

3650"Thanne shaltow come by a croft,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.

3650

"Thanne shaltow come by a croft,

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,3660Thei highte Stele-noght and Sle-noght,Strik forth by bothe,And leve hem on thi lift half,And loke noght therafter,And hold wel thyn hali-dayHeighe til even.

"Two stokkes ther stondeth,

Ac stynte ye noght there,

3660

Thei highte Stele-noght and Sle-noght,

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 florynsAnd othere fees manye;3670Loke thow plukke no plaunte there,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 blenche at a bergh,

Bere-no-fals-witnesse,

He is frythed in with floryns

And othere fees manye;

3670

Loke thow plukke no plaunte there,

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 courtAs cler as the sonne;The moot is of MercyThe manoir aboute,3680And alle the walles ben of Wit,To holden Wil oute,And kerneled wit Cristendom,Mankynde to save,Botrased with Bileef-so,-Or-thow-beest-noght-saved.

"Thanne shaltow come to a court

As cler as the sonne;

The moot is of Mercy

The manoir aboute,

3680

And alle the walles ben of Wit,

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;3690The brugg is of Bidde-wel,-The-bet-may-thow-spede;Ech piler is of penaunce,Of preieres to seyntes;Of almes-dedes are the hokesThat the gates hangen on.

"And alle the houses ben hiled,

Halles and chambres,

With no leed but with love,

And lowe speche as bretheren;

3690

The brugg is of Bidde-wel,-

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;3700Telleth hym this tokene,That Truthe wite the sothe;'I perfourned the penaunceThat 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.'

"Grace hatte the gatewarde,

A good man for sothe;

His man hatte Amende-yow,

For many men hym knoweth;

3700

Telleth hym this tokene,

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 hymTil his maister ones,3710To wayven up the wiketThat the womman shette,Tho Adam and EveEten apples un-rosted.Per Evam cunctis clausa est, et perMariam virginem patefacta est.

"Biddeth Amende-yow meke hym

Til his maister ones,

3710

To wayven up the wiket

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 theeTo go in this wise,3720Thow shalt see in thiselveTruthe in thyn herte,In a cheyne of charitéAs thow a child were,To suffren hym and segge noghtAyein thi sires wille.

"For he hath the keye and the cliket,

Though the kyng slepe.

And if grace graunte thee

To go in this wise,

3720

Thow shalt see in thiselve

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 hymThat in thyn herte sitteth,3730And poketh forth prideTo preise thiselven.The boldnesse of thi bienfetesMaketh thee blynd thanne;And thanne worstow dryven out as dew,And the dore closed,Keyed and cliketted,To kepe thee withouten;Happily an hundred wynterEr thow eft entre.3740Thusmyghtestowlesen his loveTo lete wel by thiselve,And nevere happily eft entre,But grace thow have.

"And be war thanne of Wrathe-thee,

That is a wikked sherewe;

He hath envye to hym

That in thyn herte sitteth,

3730

And poketh forth pride

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.

3740

Thusmyghtestowlesen his love

To lete wel by thiselve,

And nevere happily eft entre,

But grace thow have.

"And ther are seven sustrenThat serven Truthe evere,And arn porters of the posternesThat to the place longeth.

"And ther are seven sustren

That serven Truthe evere,

And arn porters of the posternes

That to the place longeth.

"That oon hatte Abstinence,And Humilité another;3750Charité and ChastitéBen hise chief maydenes;Pacience and PeesMuche peple thei helpeth;Largenesse the lady,She let in ful manye,Heo hath holpe a thousand outOf the develes punfolde;And who is sib to thise sevene,So me God helpe!3760He is wonderly welcome,And faire underfongen.And but if ye be sibbeTo some of thise sevene,It is ful hard, by myn heed!" quod Piers,"For any of yow alleTo geten in-going at any gate there,But grace be the moore."

"That oon hatte Abstinence,

And Humilité another;

3750

Charité and Chastité

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!

3760

He is wonderly welcome,

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

"Now by Crist!" quod a kutte-purs

"I have no kyn there."

3770

"Nor I," quod an ape-ward,

"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 thereHath myght over alle;3780And she is sib to alle synfulle,And hire sone also,And thorugh the help of hem twoHope thow noon oother,Thow myght gete grace there,So thow go bi-tyme."

"Yis," quod Piers the Plowman,

And poked hem alle to goode,

"Mercy is a maiden there

Hath myght over alle;

3780

And she is sib to alle synfulle,

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."

"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,3793I ne woot where thei bicome."

"By Crist!" quod a commune womman,

"Thi compaignie wol I folwe;

Thow shalt seye I am thi suster,

3793

I ne woot where thei bicome."

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