Filler.
Passus Decimus Tertius, etc.A8025ND I awaked therwithWit-lees ner-hande,And as a freke that fre wereForth gan I walkeIn manere of a mendinaunt8030Many a yer after,And of this metyng many tymeMuche thought I hadde.First how Fortune me failedAt my mooste nede;And how that Elde manaced me,Myghte we evere mete;And how that freres folwedeFolk that was riche,And folk that was povere8040At litel pris thei sette;And no corps in hir kirk-yerdeNor in his kirk was buryed,But quik he biquethe aughtTo quyte with hir dettes;And how this Coveitise over-comClerkes and preestes;And how that lewed men ben lad,But oure Lord hem helpe,Thorugh un-konnynge curatours,8050To incurable peynes.And how that YmaginatifIn dremels me toldeOf Kynde and of his konnynge,And how curteis he is to bestes,And how lovynge he is to briddesOn londe and on watre.Leneth he no lifLasse ne moore.The creatures that crepen8060Of kynde ben engendred.And sithen how Ymaginatif seide,Vix salvabitur;And whan he hadde seid so,How sodeynliche he passed.I lay doun longe in this thoght,And at the laste I slepte.And as Crist wolde, ther com ConscienceTo conforte me that tyme,And bad me come to his court,8070With Clergie sholde I dyne;And for Conscience of Clergie spak,I com wel the rather.And there I seigha maister,What man he was I nyste,That lowe loutedAnd loveliche to Scripture.Conscience knew hym wel,And welcomed hym faire.Thei wesshen and wipeden,8080And wenten to the dyner.And Pacience in the paleis stoodIn pilgrymes clothes,And preyde metepar charitéFor a povere heremyte.Conscience called hym in,And curteisliche seide,"Welcome! wye; go and wasshe;Thow shalt sitte soone."This maister was maad sitte,8090As for the mooste worthi.And thanne Clergie and ConscienceAnd Pacience cam after.Pacience and IWere put to be macches,And seten bi oureselveAt the side borde.Conscience called after mete;And thanne cam Scripture,And served hem thus soone8100Of sondry metes manye,Of Austyn, of Ambrose,And of the foure Euvangelistes,=Edentis et bibentis quæ apud eos sunt.Ac this maister nor his manNo maner flesshe eten;Ac thei eten mete of moore cost,Mortrews and potagesOf that men mys-wonne8110Thei made hem wel at ese.Ac hir sauce was over sour,And unsavourly groundeIn a morterpost mortemOf many a bitter peyne,But if thei synge for tho soules,And wepe salte teris.Vos qui peccata hominum comeditis,nisi pro eis lacrimas et orationeseffunderitis, ea quæ in8120deliciis comeditis, in tormentisevometis.Conscience ful curteisly thoComaunded ScriptureBifore Pacience breed to bryngeAnd me that was his macche.He sette a sour loof to-forn us,And seide, "agite pænitentiam.""As longe," quod I, "as I lyve,And lycame may dure."8130"Here is propre service," quod Pacience,"Ther fareth no prince bettre,"And thanne he broughte us forth a mees of oother mete,OfMiserere mei, Deus,And he broughte us ofBeati quorum,OfBeatus-virresmakyng.Et quorum tecta sunt peccatain a disshe,Of derne shrifteDixi et confitebor tibi."Bryng Pacience som pitaunce,"Pryveliche quod Conscience.8140And thanne hadde Pacience a pitaunce.Pro hac orabit ad te omnis sanctusin tempore oportuno.And Conscience conforted us,And carped us murye tales.=Cor contritum et humiliatum Deus non despicies.Pacience was proudOf that propre service,And made hym murthe with his mete;8150Ac I mornede evere,For this doctour on the heighe deesDrank wyn so faste.=Væ vobis qui potentes estis ad bibendum vinum!He eet manye sondry metes,Mortrews and puddynges,Wombe-cloutes and wilde brawen,And egges y-fryed with grece.Thanne seide I to myself so8160Pacience it herde,"It is noght foure dayes that this frekeBifore the deen of PoulesPreched of penauncesThat Poul the apostle suffrede,In fame et frigoreAnd flappes of scourges."Ter cæsus sum, et a Judeis quinquiesquadragenas, etc.Ac o word thei over-huppen8170At ech a tyme that thei preche,That Poul in his PistleTo al the peple tolde:Periculum est in falsis fratribus.Holi writ bit men be war,I wol noght write it hereIn Englisshe, on aventureIt sholde be reherced to ofte,And greve therwith goode men,Ac gramariens shul redde.8180Unusquisque a fratre se custodiat,quia, ut dicitur, periculum estin falsis fratribus.Ac I wiste nevere freke that as a frere yedeBifore men on EnglissheTaken it for his teme,And telle it withouten glosyng.They prechen that penaunce isProfitable to the soule,And what meschief andmale ese8190Crist for man tholede."Ac this Goddes gloton," quod I,"With hise grete chekes,Hath no pité on us povere,He perfourneth yvele;That he precheth he preveth noght,"To Pacience I tolde,And wisshed ful witterly,With wille ful egre,That disshes and doublers8200Bifore this ilke doctourWere molten leed in his mawe,AndMahounamyddes."I shal jangle to this jurdanWith hisjuste wombe,To telle me what penaunce is,Of which he preched rather."Pacience perceyved what I thoughte,And wynked on me to be stille,And seide, "Thow shalt see thus soone,8210Whan he may na-moore,He shal have a penaunce in his paunche,And puffe at ech a worde;And thanne shullen his guttes gothele,And he shal galpen after.For now he hath dronken so depe,He wole devyne soone,And preven it by hir PocalipsAnd passion of seint Avereys,That neither bacon ne braun,8220Blancmanger ne mortrews,Is neither fissh nor flesshe,But fode for a penauntAnd thanne shal he testifie of the Trinité,And take his felawe to witnesse,What he fondin a frayel,After a freres lyvyng;And but he first lyve be lesyng,Leve me nevere after.And thanne is tyme to take,8230And to appose this doctourOf Do-wel and Do-bet,And if Do-wel be any penaunce."And I sat stille, as Pacience seide,And thus soone this doctour,As rody as a rose,Rubbede hise chekes,Coughed and carped;And Conscience hym herde,And tolde hym of a Trinité,8240And toward us he loked."What is Do-wel, sire doctour?" quod I,"Is it any penaunce?""Do-wel," quod this doctour,And took the cuppe and drank,"Is do noon yvel to thyn even-cristenNought by thi power.""By this day! sire doctour," quod I,"Thanne be ye noght in Do-wel;For ye han harmed us two,8250In that ye eten the puddyng,Mortrews and oother mete,And we no morsel hadde.And if ye fare so in youre fermerye,Ferly me thynketh,But cheeste be ther charité sholde be.And yonge children dorste pleyne,I wolde permute my penaunce with youre,For I am in point to Do-wel."Thanne Conscience curteisly8260A contenaunce made,And preynte upon PacienceTo preie me to be stille;And seide hymself, "Sire doctour,And it be youre wille,What is Do-wel and Do-bet,Ye dyvynours knoweth.""Do-wel," quod this doctour,"Do as clerkes techeth;And Do-bet is he that techeth,8270And travailleth to teche othere;And Do-best doth hymself so,As he seith and precheth."Qui facit et docuerit, magnus vocabiturin regno cœlorum."Now thow, Clergie," quod Conscience,"Carpest what is Do-wel.I have sevene sones," he seide,"Serven in a castel,Ther the lord of lif wonyeth,8280To leren what is Do-wel;Til I se tho seveneAnd myself acorde,I am un-hardy," quod he,"To any wight to preven it.For oon Piers the PlowmanHath impugned us alle,And set alle sciences at a sope,Save love one;And no text ne taketh8290To mayntene his cause,ButDilige Deum,AndDomine quis habitabit.And seith that Do-wel and Do-betArn two infinités,Whiche infinités, with a feith!Fynden out Do-best,Which shal save mannes soule;Thus seith Piers the Plowman.""I kan noght heron," quod Conscience,8300"Ac I knowe wel Piers;He wol noght ayein holy writ speken,I dar wel undertake.Thanne passe we over til Piers come,And preve this in dede.Pacience hath be in many place,And peraunter mouthedThat no clerk ne kan,As Crist bereth witnesse:Patientes vincunt, etc."8310"Ac youre preiere," quod Pacience tho,"So no man displese hym.Disce," quo he, "Doce,Dilige inimicos.Disce, and Do-wel;Doce, and Do-bet;Dilige, and Do-best;Thus taughte me onesA lemman that I lovede,Love was hir name:8320"With wordes and with werkes," quod she,"And wil of thyn herte,Thow love leelly thi souleAl thi lif tyme,And so thow lere the to lovye,For oure Lordes love of hevene,Thyn enemy in alle wiseEvene forth with thiselve.Cast coles on his heedOf alle kynde speche,8330Bothe with werkes and with wordesFonde his love to wynne;And leye on him thus with love,Til he laughe on the.And but he bowe for this betyng,Blynd mote he worthe."Ac for to fare thus with thi frend,Folie it were.For he that loveth thee leelly,Litel of thyne coveiteth.8340Kynde love coveiteth noghtNo catel but speche.With halfe a laumpe lyne,In Latyn,Ex vi transitionis,I bere therinne abouteFaste y-bounde Do-wel,In a signe of the SaterdayThat sette first the kalender,And al the wit of the WodnesdayOf the nexte wike after,8350The myddel of the moone,As the nyght of bothe,And herwith am I welcomeTher I have it with me,"Undo it, lat this doctour demeIf Do-wel be therinne.For, by hym that me made!Myghte nevere poverteMisese ne meschief,Ne no man with his tonge,8360Coold ne care,Ne compaignye of theves,Ne neither hete ne hayl,Ne noon helle pouke,Ne fuyr ne flood,Ne feere of thyn enemy,Tene thee any tyme,And thow take it with the.Caritas nihil timet, etc.""It is but a dido," quod this doctour,8370"A disours tale;Al the wit of this world,And wight mennes strengthe,Kan noght conformen a peesBitwene and hise enemys,Ne bitwene two cristene kyngesKan no wight pees makeProfitable to either peple;"And putte the table fro hym,And took Clergie and Conscience8380To conseil, as it were,That Pacience thow most passe,For pilgrymes konne wel lye.Ac Conscience carped loude,And curteisliche seide,"Frendes, fareth wel;"And faire spak to Clergie,"For I wol go with this gome,If God wol yeve me grace,And be pilgrym with Pacience,8390Til I have preved moore.""What!" quod Clergie to Conscience,"Ar ye coveitous noutheAfter yeres-geves, or giftes,Or yernen to rede redels?I shal brynge yow a Bible,A book of the olde lawe,And lere yow, if yow like,The leeste point to knowe,That Pacience the pilgrym8400Parfitly knew nevere.""Nay, by Crist!" quod ConscienceTo Clergie, "God thee for-yelde;For al that Pacience me profrethProud am I litel.Ac the wil of the wye,And the wil of folk here,Hath meved my moodTo moorne for my synnes.The goode wil of a wight8410Was nevere bought to the fulle.For ther nys no tresour, for sothe,To a trewe wille."Hadde noght Maudeleyne mooreFor a box of salve,Than Zacheus for he seide=Dimidium bonorum meorum do pauperibus?And the poore wideweFor a peire of mytes,8420Than alle tho that offredeIntogazophilacium?"Thus curteisliche ConscienceCongeyed first the frere,And sithen softeliche he seideIn Clergies ere,"Me were levere, by oure Lord!And I lyve sholde,Have pacience perfitliche,Than half thi pak of bokes."8430Clergie of ConscienceNo congie wolde take,But seide ful sobreliche,"Thow shalt se the tymeWhan thow art wery of-walked,Wille me to counseille.""That is sooth," quod Conscience,"So me God helpe!If Pacience be oure partyng felawe,And pryvé with us bothe,8440Ther nys wo in this worldThat we ne sholde amende,And conformen kynges to pees,And alle kynnes londes;Sarsens and Surré,And so forth alle the Jewes,Turne into the trewe feith,And intil oon bileve.""That is sooth," quod Clergie,"I se what thow menest;8450I shal dwelle as I do,My devoir to shewe,And confermen fauntekyns,And oother folk y-lered,Til Pacience have preved thee,And parfit thee maked."Conscience tho with Pacience passed,Pilgrymes as it were.Thanne hadde Pacience, as pilgrymes han,In his poke vitailles,8460Sobretee and symple speche,And soothfast bileve,To conforte hym and Conscience,If thei come in placeThere un-kyndenesse and coveitise is,Hungry contrees bothe.And as the wente by the weye,Of Do-wel thei carped;Thei mette with a mynstral,As me tho thoughte.8470Pacience apposed hym first.And preyde he sholde hem telleTo Conscience what craft he kouthe,And to what contree he wolde."I ama mynstrall," quod that man,"My name isActiva-vita;Al ydelnesse ich hatie,For of actif is my name;A wafrer, wol ye wite,And serve manye lordes,8480And fewe robes I fonge,Or furrede gownes.Couthe I lye to do men laughe,Thanne lacchen I sholdeOuther mantel or moneieAmonges lordes or mynstrals.Ac for I kan neither taboure ne trompe,Ne telle no gestes,Farten ne fithelenAt festes, ne harpen,8490Jape ne jogele,Ne gentilliche pipe,Ne neither saille ne saute,Ne synge with the gyterne,I have no goode giftesOf thise grete lordes.For no breed that I brynge forth,Save a benyson on the SondayWhan the preest preieth the pepleHir pater-noster to bidde8500For Piers the Plowman,And that hym profit waiten;And that am I actif,That ydelnesse hatie;For alle trewe travailloursAnd tiliers of the erthe,Fro Mighelmesse to MighelmesseI fynde hem with my wafres."Beggeris and bidderisOf my breed craven,8510Faitours and freres,And folk with brode crounes.I fynde payn for the pope,And provendre for his palfrey;And I hadde nevere of hym,Have God my trouthe!Neither provendre ne personageYet of popes gifte,Savea pardon with a peis of leedAnd two polles amyddes.8520Hadde ich a clerc that couthe write,I wolde caste hym a bille,That he sente me under his seelA salve for the pestilence,And that his blessynge and hise bullesBocches myghte destruye.In nomine meo dæmonia ejicient, etsuper ægros manus imponent, etbene habebunt."And thanne wolde I be prest to the peple8530Paast for to make,And buxom and busyAboute breed and drynkeFor hym and for alle hise,Founde I that his pardonMighte lechen a man,As I bileve it sholde.For sith he hath the powerThat Peter hymself hadde,He hath the pot with the salve,8540Soothly as me thynketh.Argentum et aurum non est mihi;quod autem habeo tibi do: innomine Domini surge etambula."Ac if myght of myracle hym faille,It is for men ben noght worthiTo have the grace of God,And no gilt of pope.For may no blessynge doon us boote,8550But if we wile amende,Ne mannes masse make peesAmong cristene peple,Til pride be pureliche for-do,And thorugh payn defaute.For er I have breed of mele,Oft moot I swete;And er the commune have corn y-nough,Many a cold morwenyng.So er my wafres be y-wroght,8560Muche wo I tholye."At Londone, I leve,Liketh wel my wafres;And louren whan thei lakken hem.It is noght long y-passed,There was a careful commune,Whan no cart com to towneWith breed fro Stratforde;Tho gonnen beggeris wepe,And werkmen were agast a lite;8570This wole be thought longe.In the date of oure Drighte,Ina drye Aprille,A thousand and thre hundredTwies twenty and ten,My wafres there were geseneWhan Chichestre was maire."I took good kepe, by Crist!And Conscience bothe,Of Haukyn the actif man,8580And how he was y-clothed.He hadde a cote of Cristendom,As holy kirke bileveth;Ac it was moled in many placesWith manye sondry plottes;Of pride here a plot,And there a plot of unbuxome speche,Of scornyng and of scoffyng,And of unskilful berynge,As in apparaill and in porte8590Proud amonges the peple,Oother wise than he hym hathWith herte or sighte shewynge,Hym willyng that alle men wendeHe were that he is noght.For-why he bosteth and braggethWith manye bolde othes,And inobedient to ben undernomeOf any lif lyvynge;And noon so singuler by hymself,8600Ne so pomp holy,Y-habited as an heremyte,An ordre by hymselve,Religion saunz ruleOr resonable obedience,Lakkynge lettrede menAnd lewed men botheIn likynge of lele lif,And a liere in soule,With inwit and with outwit8610Ymagynen and studie,As best for his body beTo have a badde name,And entremetten hym over alTher he hath noght to doone,Willynge that men wendeHis wit were the beste.And if he gyveth ought to povere gomes,Telle what he deleth,Povere of possession in purs8620And in cofre bothe.And as a lyoun on to loke,And lordlich of speche,Boldest of beggeris,A bostere that noght hath,In towne and in tavernesTales to telle,And segge thyng that he nevere seigh,And for sothe sweren it,Of dedes that he nevere dide8630Demen and bostenAnd of werkes that he wel dideWitnesse, and siggen—"Lo! if ye leve me noght,Or that I lye wenen,Asketh at hym or at hym,And he yow kan telleWhat I suffrede and seighAnd som tymes hadde,And what I kouthe and knew,8640And what kyn I com of."Al he wolde that men wisteOf werkes and of wordesWhich myghte plese the peple,And preisen hymselve.Si hominibus placerem, Christiservus non essem. Et alibi:Nemo potest duobus dominisservire."By Crist!" quod Conscience tho,8650"Thi beste cote, Haukyn,Hath manye moles and spottes,It moste ben y-wasshe.""Ye, who so toke hede," quod Haukyn,"Bihynde and bifore,What on bak and what on body half,And by the two sydes,Men sholde fynde manye frounces,And manye foule plottes."And he torned hym as tyd,8660And thanne took I hede,It was fouler bi fele foldThan it first semed.It was bi-dropped with wratheAnd wikkede wille,With envye and yvel speche,Entisynge to fighte,Liynge and laughynge,And leve tonge to chide,Al that he wiste wikked8670By any wight tellen it,And blame men bihynde hir bak,And bidden hem meschaunce,And that he wiste by WilleTellen it Watte,And that Watte wisteWille wiste it after,And make of frendes foesThorugh a fals tonge,Or with myght or with mouth,8680Or thorugh mennes strengtheAvenge me fele tymes,Other frete myselveWithinne as a shepsteres shere,Y-sherewed man and cursed.Cujus maledictione os plenum estet amaritudine, sub lingua ejuslabor et dolor. Et alibi: Filiihominum, dentes eorum armaet sagittæ, et lingua eorum8690gladius acutus."Ther is no lif that me lovethLastynge any while;For tales that I telle,No man trusteth to me.And whan I may noght have the maistrie,Swich malencolie I take,That I cacche the crampe,And the cardiacle som tyme,Or an ague in swich an angre,8700And som tyme a fevereThat taketh me al a twelve monthe,Til that I despiseLechecraft of oure Lord,And leve on a wicche,And seye that no clerc ne kan,Ne Crist, as I leve,To the soutere of Southwerk,Or of Shordyche dame Emme;And seye that no Goddes word8710Gaf me nevere boote,But thorugh a charme hadde I chaunceAnd my chief heele."I waitede wisloker,And thanne was it soilledWith likynge of lecherie,As by lokynge of his eighe.For ech a maide that he metteHe made hire a signeSemynge to synne-warde,8720And some tyme he gan tasteAboute the mouth, or bynetheBigynneth to grope,Til eitheres wille wexeth kene,And to the werke yeden,As wel in fastyng dayes and FridaiesAs forboden nyghtes,And as wel in Lente as out of Lente,Alle tymes y-liche.Swiche werkes with hem8730Were nevere out of seson,Til thei myghte na-moore;And thanne murye tales,And how that lecchours lovyeLaughen and japen,And of hir harlotrye and horedomIn hir elde tellen.Thanne Pacience perceyvedOf pointes of this cote,That were colomy thorugh coveitise8740And unkynde desiryng;Moore to good than to GodThe gome his love caste,And ymagynede howHe it myghte haveWith false mesures and met,And with fals witnesse;Lened for love of the wed,And looth to do truthe;And awaited thorugh which8750Wey to bigile,And menged his marchaundise,And made a good moustre;"The worste withinne was,A greet wit I let it,And if my neghebore hadde any hyne,Or any beest ellis,Moore profitable than myn,Manye sleightes I madeHow I myghte have it,8760Al my wit I caste.And but I it hadde by oother wey,At the laste I stale it;Or priveliche his purs shook,And unpikede hise lokes;Or by nyghte or by dayeAboute was ich evere,Thorugh gile to gaderenThe good that ich have."If I yede to the plowgh,8770I pynched so narwe,That a foot lond or a forowFecchen I woldeOf my nexte neghebore,And nymen of his erthe.And if I repe, over-reche,Of yaf hem reed that ropenTo seise to me with hir sikelThat I ne sew nevere."And who so borwed of me,8780A-boughte the tymeWith presentes prively,Or paide som certeyn;So he wolde or noght wolde,Wynnen I wolde,And bothe to kith and to kynUnkynde of that ich hadde."And who so cheped my chaffare,Chiden I wolde,But he profrede to paie8790A peny or tweyneMoore than it was worth;And yet wolde I swereThat it coste me muche moore,And swoor manye othes."On holy daies at holy chircheWhan ich herde masse,Hadde I nevere wille, woot God,Witterly to bisecheMercy for my mysdedes,8800That I ne moorned mooreNor losse of good, leve me,Than for my likames giltes.As if I hadde dedly synne doon,I dredde noght that so soore,As when I lened, and leved it lost,Or longe er it were paied.So if I kidde any kyndenesseMyn even cristen to helpe,Upon a cruwel coveitise8810Myn herte gan hange."And if I sente over seeMy servauntz toBrugges,Or intoPruce-londmy prentis,My profit to waiten,To marchaunden with moneie,And maken hire eschaunges,Mighte nevere me conforte.In the mene whileNeither masse ne matynes,8820No none maner sightes;Ne nevere penaunce perfournede,Ne pater-noster seide,That my mynde ne was mooreOn my good in a doute,Than in the grace of God,And hise grete helpes.Ubi thesaurus tuus, ibi et cor tuum."Whiche ben the braunchesThat bryngen a man to sleuthe?8830He that moorneth noght for hise mysdedes,Ne maketh no sorwe,And penaunce that the preest enjoynethPerfourneth yvele,Dooth noon almesse,Dred hym of no synne,Lyveth ayein the bileve,And no lawe holdeth,Ech day is holy day with hym,Or an heigh ferye;8840And, if he aught wole here,It is an harlotes tonge.Whan men carpen of Crist,Or of clennesse of soules,He wexeth wroth and wol noght hereBut wordes of murthe;Penaunce of povere men,And the passion of seintes,He hateth to here therof,And alle that it telleth.8850Thise ben the braunches, beth war,That bryngen a man to wanhope."Ye lordes and ladies,And legates of holy chirche,That fedeth fooles sages,Flatereris and lieris,And han likynge to lithen hemTo do yow to laughe,Væ vobis qui ridetis, etc.And gyveth hem mete and mede,8860And povere men refuse;In youre deeth deyinge,I drede me ful sooreLest tho thre manner menTo muche sorwe yow brynge.=Consentientes et agentes pari pœna punientur."Patriarkes and prophetes,And prechours of Goddes wordes,Saven thorugh hir sermons8870Mannes soule fro helle.Right so flatereris and foolesArn the fendes disciplesTo entice men thorugh hir talesTo synne and to harlotrie.Ac clerkes, that knowen holy writ,Sholde kenne lordesWhat David seith of swiche men,As the Sauter telleth.Non habitabit in medio domus meæ,8880qui facit superbiam, et quiloquitur iniqua."Sholde noon harlot have audienceIn halle nor in chambre,Ther wise men were,Witnesseth Goddes wordes,Ne no mys-proud manAmonges lordes ben allowed."Ac flaterers and foolesThorugh hir foule wordes8890Leden tho that loven hemTo Luciferis feste,WithTurpiloquio, a lady of sorwe,And Luciferis fithele."Thus Haukyn the actif manHadde y-soiled his cote,Til Conscience acouped hym therofIn a curteis manere,Why he ne hadde whasshen it,8899Or wiped it with a brusshe.
Passus Decimus Tertius, etc.
Passus Decimus Tertius, etc.
A8025ND I awaked therwithWit-lees ner-hande,And as a freke that fre wereForth gan I walkeIn manere of a mendinaunt8030Many a yer after,And of this metyng many tymeMuche thought I hadde.
A8025
A
8025
ND I awaked therwith
Wit-lees ner-hande,
And as a freke that fre were
Forth gan I walke
In manere of a mendinaunt
8030
8030
Many a yer after,
And of this metyng many tyme
Muche thought I hadde.
First how Fortune me failedAt my mooste nede;And how that Elde manaced me,Myghte we evere mete;And how that freres folwedeFolk that was riche,And folk that was povere8040At litel pris thei sette;And no corps in hir kirk-yerdeNor in his kirk was buryed,But quik he biquethe aughtTo quyte with hir dettes;And how this Coveitise over-comClerkes and preestes;And how that lewed men ben lad,But oure Lord hem helpe,Thorugh un-konnynge curatours,8050To incurable peynes.
First how Fortune me failed
At my mooste nede;
And how that Elde manaced me,
Myghte we evere mete;
And how that freres folwede
Folk that was riche,
And folk that was povere
8040
8040
At litel pris thei sette;
And no corps in hir kirk-yerde
Nor in his kirk was buryed,
But quik he biquethe aught
To quyte with hir dettes;
And how this Coveitise over-com
Clerkes and preestes;
And how that lewed men ben lad,
But oure Lord hem helpe,
Thorugh un-konnynge curatours,
8050
8050
To incurable peynes.
And how that YmaginatifIn dremels me toldeOf Kynde and of his konnynge,And how curteis he is to bestes,And how lovynge he is to briddesOn londe and on watre.Leneth he no lifLasse ne moore.The creatures that crepen8060Of kynde ben engendred.And sithen how Ymaginatif seide,Vix salvabitur;And whan he hadde seid so,How sodeynliche he passed.
And how that Ymaginatif
In dremels me tolde
Of Kynde and of his konnynge,
And how curteis he is to bestes,
And how lovynge he is to briddes
On londe and on watre.
Leneth he no lif
Lasse ne moore.
The creatures that crepen
8060
8060
Of kynde ben engendred.
And sithen how Ymaginatif seide,
Vix salvabitur;
And whan he hadde seid so,
How sodeynliche he passed.
I lay doun longe in this thoght,And at the laste I slepte.And as Crist wolde, ther com ConscienceTo conforte me that tyme,And bad me come to his court,8070With Clergie sholde I dyne;And for Conscience of Clergie spak,I com wel the rather.And there I seigha maister,What man he was I nyste,That lowe loutedAnd loveliche to Scripture.
I lay doun longe in this thoght,
And at the laste I slepte.
And as Crist wolde, ther com Conscience
To conforte me that tyme,
And bad me come to his court,
8070
8070
With Clergie sholde I dyne;
And for Conscience of Clergie spak,
I com wel the rather.
And there I seigha maister,
What man he was I nyste,
That lowe louted
And loveliche to Scripture.
Conscience knew hym wel,And welcomed hym faire.Thei wesshen and wipeden,8080And wenten to the dyner.And Pacience in the paleis stoodIn pilgrymes clothes,And preyde metepar charitéFor a povere heremyte.
Conscience knew hym wel,
And welcomed hym faire.
Thei wesshen and wipeden,
8080
8080
And wenten to the dyner.
And Pacience in the paleis stood
In pilgrymes clothes,
And preyde metepar charité
For a povere heremyte.
Conscience called hym in,And curteisliche seide,"Welcome! wye; go and wasshe;Thow shalt sitte soone."
Conscience called hym in,
And curteisliche seide,
"Welcome! wye; go and wasshe;
Thow shalt sitte soone."
This maister was maad sitte,8090As for the mooste worthi.And thanne Clergie and ConscienceAnd Pacience cam after.
This maister was maad sitte,
8090
8090
As for the mooste worthi.
And thanne Clergie and Conscience
And Pacience cam after.
Pacience and IWere put to be macches,And seten bi oureselveAt the side borde.
Pacience and I
Were put to be macches,
And seten bi oureselve
At the side borde.
Conscience called after mete;And thanne cam Scripture,And served hem thus soone8100Of sondry metes manye,Of Austyn, of Ambrose,And of the foure Euvangelistes,=Edentis et bibentis quæ apud eos sunt.
Conscience called after mete;
And thanne cam Scripture,
And served hem thus soone
8100
8100
Of sondry metes manye,
Of Austyn, of Ambrose,
And of the foure Euvangelistes,
=
=
Edentis et bibentis quæ apud eos sunt.
Ac this maister nor his manNo maner flesshe eten;Ac thei eten mete of moore cost,Mortrews and potagesOf that men mys-wonne8110Thei made hem wel at ese.Ac hir sauce was over sour,And unsavourly groundeIn a morterpost mortemOf many a bitter peyne,But if thei synge for tho soules,And wepe salte teris.Vos qui peccata hominum comeditis,nisi pro eis lacrimas et orationeseffunderitis, ea quæ in8120deliciis comeditis, in tormentisevometis.
Ac this maister nor his man
No maner flesshe eten;
Ac thei eten mete of moore cost,
Mortrews and potages
Of that men mys-wonne
8110
8110
Thei made hem wel at ese.
Ac hir sauce was over sour,
And unsavourly grounde
In a morterpost mortem
Of many a bitter peyne,
But if thei synge for tho soules,
And wepe salte teris.
Vos qui peccata hominum comeditis,
nisi pro eis lacrimas et orationes
effunderitis, ea quæ in
8120
8120
deliciis comeditis, in tormentis
evometis.
Conscience ful curteisly thoComaunded ScriptureBifore Pacience breed to bryngeAnd me that was his macche.He sette a sour loof to-forn us,And seide, "agite pænitentiam.""As longe," quod I, "as I lyve,And lycame may dure."8130"Here is propre service," quod Pacience,"Ther fareth no prince bettre,"
Conscience ful curteisly tho
Comaunded Scripture
Bifore Pacience breed to brynge
And me that was his macche.
He sette a sour loof to-forn us,
And seide, "agite pænitentiam."
"As longe," quod I, "as I lyve,
And lycame may dure."
8130
8130
"Here is propre service," quod Pacience,
"Ther fareth no prince bettre,"
And thanne he broughte us forth a mees of oother mete,OfMiserere mei, Deus,And he broughte us ofBeati quorum,OfBeatus-virresmakyng.Et quorum tecta sunt peccatain a disshe,Of derne shrifteDixi et confitebor tibi."Bryng Pacience som pitaunce,"Pryveliche quod Conscience.
And thanne he broughte us forth a mees of oother mete,
OfMiserere mei, Deus,
And he broughte us ofBeati quorum,
OfBeatus-virresmakyng.
Et quorum tecta sunt peccatain a disshe,
Of derne shrifteDixi et confitebor tibi.
"Bryng Pacience som pitaunce,"
Pryveliche quod Conscience.
8140And thanne hadde Pacience a pitaunce.Pro hac orabit ad te omnis sanctusin tempore oportuno.And Conscience conforted us,And carped us murye tales.=Cor contritum et humiliatum Deus non despicies.
8140
8140
And thanne hadde Pacience a pitaunce.
Pro hac orabit ad te omnis sanctus
in tempore oportuno.
And Conscience conforted us,
And carped us murye tales.
=
=
Cor contritum et humiliatum Deus non despicies.
Pacience was proudOf that propre service,And made hym murthe with his mete;8150Ac I mornede evere,For this doctour on the heighe deesDrank wyn so faste.=Væ vobis qui potentes estis ad bibendum vinum!He eet manye sondry metes,Mortrews and puddynges,Wombe-cloutes and wilde brawen,And egges y-fryed with grece.
Pacience was proud
Of that propre service,
And made hym murthe with his mete;
8150
8150
Ac I mornede evere,
For this doctour on the heighe dees
Drank wyn so faste.
=
=
Væ vobis qui potentes estis ad bibendum vinum!
He eet manye sondry metes,
Mortrews and puddynges,
Wombe-cloutes and wilde brawen,
And egges y-fryed with grece.
Thanne seide I to myself so8160Pacience it herde,"It is noght foure dayes that this frekeBifore the deen of PoulesPreched of penauncesThat Poul the apostle suffrede,In fame et frigoreAnd flappes of scourges."Ter cæsus sum, et a Judeis quinquiesquadragenas, etc.
Thanne seide I to myself so
8160
8160
Pacience it herde,
"It is noght foure dayes that this freke
Bifore the deen of Poules
Preched of penaunces
That Poul the apostle suffrede,
In fame et frigore
And flappes of scourges."
Ter cæsus sum, et a Judeis quinquies
quadragenas, etc.
Ac o word thei over-huppen8170At ech a tyme that thei preche,That Poul in his PistleTo al the peple tolde:Periculum est in falsis fratribus.
Ac o word thei over-huppen
8170
8170
At ech a tyme that thei preche,
That Poul in his Pistle
To al the peple tolde:
Periculum est in falsis fratribus.
Holi writ bit men be war,I wol noght write it hereIn Englisshe, on aventureIt sholde be reherced to ofte,And greve therwith goode men,Ac gramariens shul redde.8180Unusquisque a fratre se custodiat,quia, ut dicitur, periculum estin falsis fratribus.
Holi writ bit men be war,
I wol noght write it here
In Englisshe, on aventure
It sholde be reherced to ofte,
And greve therwith goode men,
Ac gramariens shul redde.
8180
8180
Unusquisque a fratre se custodiat,
quia, ut dicitur, periculum est
in falsis fratribus.
Ac I wiste nevere freke that as a frere yedeBifore men on EnglissheTaken it for his teme,And telle it withouten glosyng.They prechen that penaunce isProfitable to the soule,And what meschief andmale ese8190Crist for man tholede.
Ac I wiste nevere freke that as a frere yede
Bifore men on Englisshe
Taken it for his teme,
And telle it withouten glosyng.
They prechen that penaunce is
Profitable to the soule,
And what meschief andmale ese
8190
8190
Crist for man tholede.
"Ac this Goddes gloton," quod I,"With hise grete chekes,Hath no pité on us povere,He perfourneth yvele;That he precheth he preveth noght,"To Pacience I tolde,And wisshed ful witterly,With wille ful egre,That disshes and doublers8200Bifore this ilke doctourWere molten leed in his mawe,AndMahounamyddes."I shal jangle to this jurdanWith hisjuste wombe,To telle me what penaunce is,Of which he preched rather."
"Ac this Goddes gloton," quod I,
"With hise grete chekes,
Hath no pité on us povere,
He perfourneth yvele;
That he precheth he preveth noght,"
To Pacience I tolde,
And wisshed ful witterly,
With wille ful egre,
That disshes and doublers
8200
8200
Bifore this ilke doctour
Were molten leed in his mawe,
AndMahounamyddes.
"I shal jangle to this jurdan
With hisjuste wombe,
To telle me what penaunce is,
Of which he preched rather."
Pacience perceyved what I thoughte,And wynked on me to be stille,And seide, "Thow shalt see thus soone,8210Whan he may na-moore,He shal have a penaunce in his paunche,And puffe at ech a worde;And thanne shullen his guttes gothele,And he shal galpen after.For now he hath dronken so depe,He wole devyne soone,And preven it by hir PocalipsAnd passion of seint Avereys,That neither bacon ne braun,8220Blancmanger ne mortrews,Is neither fissh nor flesshe,But fode for a penauntAnd thanne shal he testifie of the Trinité,And take his felawe to witnesse,What he fondin a frayel,After a freres lyvyng;And but he first lyve be lesyng,Leve me nevere after.And thanne is tyme to take,8230And to appose this doctourOf Do-wel and Do-bet,And if Do-wel be any penaunce."
Pacience perceyved what I thoughte,
And wynked on me to be stille,
And seide, "Thow shalt see thus soone,
8210
8210
Whan he may na-moore,
He shal have a penaunce in his paunche,
And puffe at ech a worde;
And thanne shullen his guttes gothele,
And he shal galpen after.
For now he hath dronken so depe,
He wole devyne soone,
And preven it by hir Pocalips
And passion of seint Avereys,
That neither bacon ne braun,
8220
8220
Blancmanger ne mortrews,
Is neither fissh nor flesshe,
But fode for a penaunt
And thanne shal he testifie of the Trinité,
And take his felawe to witnesse,
What he fondin a frayel,
After a freres lyvyng;
And but he first lyve be lesyng,
Leve me nevere after.
And thanne is tyme to take,
8230
8230
And to appose this doctour
Of Do-wel and Do-bet,
And if Do-wel be any penaunce."
And I sat stille, as Pacience seide,And thus soone this doctour,As rody as a rose,Rubbede hise chekes,Coughed and carped;And Conscience hym herde,And tolde hym of a Trinité,8240And toward us he loked.
And I sat stille, as Pacience seide,
And thus soone this doctour,
As rody as a rose,
Rubbede hise chekes,
Coughed and carped;
And Conscience hym herde,
And tolde hym of a Trinité,
8240
8240
And toward us he loked.
"What is Do-wel, sire doctour?" quod I,"Is it any penaunce?"
"What is Do-wel, sire doctour?" quod I,
"Is it any penaunce?"
"Do-wel," quod this doctour,And took the cuppe and drank,"Is do noon yvel to thyn even-cristenNought by thi power."
"Do-wel," quod this doctour,
And took the cuppe and drank,
"Is do noon yvel to thyn even-cristen
Nought by thi power."
"By this day! sire doctour," quod I,"Thanne be ye noght in Do-wel;For ye han harmed us two,8250In that ye eten the puddyng,Mortrews and oother mete,And we no morsel hadde.And if ye fare so in youre fermerye,Ferly me thynketh,But cheeste be ther charité sholde be.And yonge children dorste pleyne,I wolde permute my penaunce with youre,For I am in point to Do-wel."
"By this day! sire doctour," quod I,
"Thanne be ye noght in Do-wel;
For ye han harmed us two,
8250
8250
In that ye eten the puddyng,
Mortrews and oother mete,
And we no morsel hadde.
And if ye fare so in youre fermerye,
Ferly me thynketh,
But cheeste be ther charité sholde be.
And yonge children dorste pleyne,
I wolde permute my penaunce with youre,
For I am in point to Do-wel."
Thanne Conscience curteisly8260A contenaunce made,And preynte upon PacienceTo preie me to be stille;And seide hymself, "Sire doctour,And it be youre wille,What is Do-wel and Do-bet,Ye dyvynours knoweth."
Thanne Conscience curteisly
8260
8260
A contenaunce made,
And preynte upon Pacience
To preie me to be stille;
And seide hymself, "Sire doctour,
And it be youre wille,
What is Do-wel and Do-bet,
Ye dyvynours knoweth."
"Do-wel," quod this doctour,"Do as clerkes techeth;And Do-bet is he that techeth,8270And travailleth to teche othere;And Do-best doth hymself so,As he seith and precheth."Qui facit et docuerit, magnus vocabiturin regno cœlorum.
"Do-wel," quod this doctour,
"Do as clerkes techeth;
And Do-bet is he that techeth,
8270
8270
And travailleth to teche othere;
And Do-best doth hymself so,
As he seith and precheth."
Qui facit et docuerit, magnus vocabitur
in regno cœlorum.
"Now thow, Clergie," quod Conscience,"Carpest what is Do-wel.I have sevene sones," he seide,"Serven in a castel,Ther the lord of lif wonyeth,8280To leren what is Do-wel;Til I se tho seveneAnd myself acorde,I am un-hardy," quod he,"To any wight to preven it.For oon Piers the PlowmanHath impugned us alle,And set alle sciences at a sope,Save love one;And no text ne taketh8290To mayntene his cause,ButDilige Deum,AndDomine quis habitabit.And seith that Do-wel and Do-betArn two infinités,Whiche infinités, with a feith!Fynden out Do-best,Which shal save mannes soule;Thus seith Piers the Plowman."
"Now thow, Clergie," quod Conscience,
"Carpest what is Do-wel.
I have sevene sones," he seide,
"Serven in a castel,
Ther the lord of lif wonyeth,
8280
8280
To leren what is Do-wel;
Til I se tho sevene
And myself acorde,
I am un-hardy," quod he,
"To any wight to preven it.
For oon Piers the Plowman
Hath impugned us alle,
And set alle sciences at a sope,
Save love one;
And no text ne taketh
8290
8290
To mayntene his cause,
ButDilige Deum,
AndDomine quis habitabit.
And seith that Do-wel and Do-bet
Arn two infinités,
Whiche infinités, with a feith!
Fynden out Do-best,
Which shal save mannes soule;
Thus seith Piers the Plowman."
"I kan noght heron," quod Conscience,8300"Ac I knowe wel Piers;He wol noght ayein holy writ speken,I dar wel undertake.Thanne passe we over til Piers come,And preve this in dede.Pacience hath be in many place,And peraunter mouthedThat no clerk ne kan,As Crist bereth witnesse:Patientes vincunt, etc."
"I kan noght heron," quod Conscience,
8300
8300
"Ac I knowe wel Piers;
He wol noght ayein holy writ speken,
I dar wel undertake.
Thanne passe we over til Piers come,
And preve this in dede.
Pacience hath be in many place,
And peraunter mouthed
That no clerk ne kan,
As Crist bereth witnesse:
Patientes vincunt, etc."
8310"Ac youre preiere," quod Pacience tho,"So no man displese hym.Disce," quo he, "Doce,Dilige inimicos.Disce, and Do-wel;Doce, and Do-bet;Dilige, and Do-best;Thus taughte me onesA lemman that I lovede,Love was hir name:
8310
8310
"Ac youre preiere," quod Pacience tho,
"So no man displese hym.
Disce," quo he, "Doce,
Dilige inimicos.
Disce, and Do-wel;
Doce, and Do-bet;
Dilige, and Do-best;
Thus taughte me ones
A lemman that I lovede,
Love was hir name:
8320"With wordes and with werkes," quod she,"And wil of thyn herte,Thow love leelly thi souleAl thi lif tyme,And so thow lere the to lovye,For oure Lordes love of hevene,Thyn enemy in alle wiseEvene forth with thiselve.Cast coles on his heedOf alle kynde speche,8330Bothe with werkes and with wordesFonde his love to wynne;And leye on him thus with love,Til he laughe on the.And but he bowe for this betyng,Blynd mote he worthe.
8320
8320
"With wordes and with werkes," quod she,
"And wil of thyn herte,
Thow love leelly thi soule
Al thi lif tyme,
And so thow lere the to lovye,
For oure Lordes love of hevene,
Thyn enemy in alle wise
Evene forth with thiselve.
Cast coles on his heed
Of alle kynde speche,
8330
8330
Bothe with werkes and with wordes
Fonde his love to wynne;
And leye on him thus with love,
Til he laughe on the.
And but he bowe for this betyng,
Blynd mote he worthe.
"Ac for to fare thus with thi frend,Folie it were.For he that loveth thee leelly,Litel of thyne coveiteth.8340Kynde love coveiteth noghtNo catel but speche.With halfe a laumpe lyne,In Latyn,Ex vi transitionis,I bere therinne abouteFaste y-bounde Do-wel,In a signe of the SaterdayThat sette first the kalender,And al the wit of the WodnesdayOf the nexte wike after,8350The myddel of the moone,As the nyght of bothe,And herwith am I welcomeTher I have it with me,
"Ac for to fare thus with thi frend,
Folie it were.
For he that loveth thee leelly,
Litel of thyne coveiteth.
8340
8340
Kynde love coveiteth noght
No catel but speche.
With halfe a laumpe lyne,
In Latyn,Ex vi transitionis,
I bere therinne aboute
Faste y-bounde Do-wel,
In a signe of the Saterday
That sette first the kalender,
And al the wit of the Wodnesday
Of the nexte wike after,
8350
8350
The myddel of the moone,
As the nyght of bothe,
And herwith am I welcome
Ther I have it with me,
"Undo it, lat this doctour demeIf Do-wel be therinne.For, by hym that me made!Myghte nevere poverteMisese ne meschief,Ne no man with his tonge,8360Coold ne care,Ne compaignye of theves,Ne neither hete ne hayl,Ne noon helle pouke,Ne fuyr ne flood,Ne feere of thyn enemy,Tene thee any tyme,And thow take it with the.Caritas nihil timet, etc."
"Undo it, lat this doctour deme
If Do-wel be therinne.
For, by hym that me made!
Myghte nevere poverte
Misese ne meschief,
Ne no man with his tonge,
8360
8360
Coold ne care,
Ne compaignye of theves,
Ne neither hete ne hayl,
Ne noon helle pouke,
Ne fuyr ne flood,
Ne feere of thyn enemy,
Tene thee any tyme,
And thow take it with the.
Caritas nihil timet, etc."
"It is but a dido," quod this doctour,8370"A disours tale;Al the wit of this world,And wight mennes strengthe,Kan noght conformen a peesBitwene and hise enemys,Ne bitwene two cristene kyngesKan no wight pees makeProfitable to either peple;"And putte the table fro hym,And took Clergie and Conscience8380To conseil, as it were,That Pacience thow most passe,For pilgrymes konne wel lye.
"It is but a dido," quod this doctour,
8370
8370
"A disours tale;
Al the wit of this world,
And wight mennes strengthe,
Kan noght conformen a pees
Bitwene and hise enemys,
Ne bitwene two cristene kynges
Kan no wight pees make
Profitable to either peple;"
And putte the table fro hym,
And took Clergie and Conscience
8380
8380
To conseil, as it were,
That Pacience thow most passe,
For pilgrymes konne wel lye.
Ac Conscience carped loude,And curteisliche seide,"Frendes, fareth wel;"And faire spak to Clergie,"For I wol go with this gome,If God wol yeve me grace,And be pilgrym with Pacience,8390Til I have preved moore."
Ac Conscience carped loude,
And curteisliche seide,
"Frendes, fareth wel;"
And faire spak to Clergie,
"For I wol go with this gome,
If God wol yeve me grace,
And be pilgrym with Pacience,
8390
8390
Til I have preved moore."
"What!" quod Clergie to Conscience,"Ar ye coveitous noutheAfter yeres-geves, or giftes,Or yernen to rede redels?I shal brynge yow a Bible,A book of the olde lawe,And lere yow, if yow like,The leeste point to knowe,That Pacience the pilgrym8400Parfitly knew nevere."
"What!" quod Clergie to Conscience,
"Ar ye coveitous nouthe
After yeres-geves, or giftes,
Or yernen to rede redels?
I shal brynge yow a Bible,
A book of the olde lawe,
And lere yow, if yow like,
The leeste point to knowe,
That Pacience the pilgrym
8400
8400
Parfitly knew nevere."
"Nay, by Crist!" quod ConscienceTo Clergie, "God thee for-yelde;For al that Pacience me profrethProud am I litel.Ac the wil of the wye,And the wil of folk here,Hath meved my moodTo moorne for my synnes.The goode wil of a wight8410Was nevere bought to the fulle.For ther nys no tresour, for sothe,To a trewe wille.
"Nay, by Crist!" quod Conscience
To Clergie, "God thee for-yelde;
For al that Pacience me profreth
Proud am I litel.
Ac the wil of the wye,
And the wil of folk here,
Hath meved my mood
To moorne for my synnes.
The goode wil of a wight
8410
8410
Was nevere bought to the fulle.
For ther nys no tresour, for sothe,
To a trewe wille.
"Hadde noght Maudeleyne mooreFor a box of salve,Than Zacheus for he seide=Dimidium bonorum meorum do pauperibus?And the poore wideweFor a peire of mytes,8420Than alle tho that offredeIntogazophilacium?"
"Hadde noght Maudeleyne moore
For a box of salve,
Than Zacheus for he seide
=
=
Dimidium bonorum meorum do pauperibus?
And the poore widewe
For a peire of mytes,
8420
8420
Than alle tho that offrede
Intogazophilacium?"
Thus curteisliche ConscienceCongeyed first the frere,And sithen softeliche he seideIn Clergies ere,"Me were levere, by oure Lord!And I lyve sholde,Have pacience perfitliche,Than half thi pak of bokes."
Thus curteisliche Conscience
Congeyed first the frere,
And sithen softeliche he seide
In Clergies ere,
"Me were levere, by oure Lord!
And I lyve sholde,
Have pacience perfitliche,
Than half thi pak of bokes."
8430Clergie of ConscienceNo congie wolde take,But seide ful sobreliche,"Thow shalt se the tymeWhan thow art wery of-walked,Wille me to counseille."
8430
8430
Clergie of Conscience
No congie wolde take,
But seide ful sobreliche,
"Thow shalt se the tyme
Whan thow art wery of-walked,
Wille me to counseille."
"That is sooth," quod Conscience,"So me God helpe!If Pacience be oure partyng felawe,And pryvé with us bothe,8440Ther nys wo in this worldThat we ne sholde amende,And conformen kynges to pees,And alle kynnes londes;Sarsens and Surré,And so forth alle the Jewes,Turne into the trewe feith,And intil oon bileve."
"That is sooth," quod Conscience,
"So me God helpe!
If Pacience be oure partyng felawe,
And pryvé with us bothe,
8440
8440
Ther nys wo in this world
That we ne sholde amende,
And conformen kynges to pees,
And alle kynnes londes;
Sarsens and Surré,
And so forth alle the Jewes,
Turne into the trewe feith,
And intil oon bileve."
"That is sooth," quod Clergie,"I se what thow menest;8450I shal dwelle as I do,My devoir to shewe,And confermen fauntekyns,And oother folk y-lered,Til Pacience have preved thee,And parfit thee maked."
"That is sooth," quod Clergie,
"I se what thow menest;
8450
8450
I shal dwelle as I do,
My devoir to shewe,
And confermen fauntekyns,
And oother folk y-lered,
Til Pacience have preved thee,
And parfit thee maked."
Conscience tho with Pacience passed,Pilgrymes as it were.Thanne hadde Pacience, as pilgrymes han,In his poke vitailles,8460Sobretee and symple speche,And soothfast bileve,To conforte hym and Conscience,If thei come in placeThere un-kyndenesse and coveitise is,Hungry contrees bothe.
Conscience tho with Pacience passed,
Pilgrymes as it were.
Thanne hadde Pacience, as pilgrymes han,
In his poke vitailles,
8460
8460
Sobretee and symple speche,
And soothfast bileve,
To conforte hym and Conscience,
If thei come in place
There un-kyndenesse and coveitise is,
Hungry contrees bothe.
And as the wente by the weye,Of Do-wel thei carped;Thei mette with a mynstral,As me tho thoughte.8470Pacience apposed hym first.And preyde he sholde hem telleTo Conscience what craft he kouthe,And to what contree he wolde.
And as the wente by the weye,
Of Do-wel thei carped;
Thei mette with a mynstral,
As me tho thoughte.
8470
8470
Pacience apposed hym first.
And preyde he sholde hem telle
To Conscience what craft he kouthe,
And to what contree he wolde.
"I ama mynstrall," quod that man,"My name isActiva-vita;Al ydelnesse ich hatie,For of actif is my name;A wafrer, wol ye wite,And serve manye lordes,8480And fewe robes I fonge,Or furrede gownes.Couthe I lye to do men laughe,Thanne lacchen I sholdeOuther mantel or moneieAmonges lordes or mynstrals.Ac for I kan neither taboure ne trompe,Ne telle no gestes,Farten ne fithelenAt festes, ne harpen,8490Jape ne jogele,Ne gentilliche pipe,Ne neither saille ne saute,Ne synge with the gyterne,I have no goode giftesOf thise grete lordes.For no breed that I brynge forth,Save a benyson on the SondayWhan the preest preieth the pepleHir pater-noster to bidde8500For Piers the Plowman,And that hym profit waiten;And that am I actif,That ydelnesse hatie;For alle trewe travailloursAnd tiliers of the erthe,Fro Mighelmesse to MighelmesseI fynde hem with my wafres.
"I ama mynstrall," quod that man,
"My name isActiva-vita;
Al ydelnesse ich hatie,
For of actif is my name;
A wafrer, wol ye wite,
And serve manye lordes,
8480
8480
And fewe robes I fonge,
Or furrede gownes.
Couthe I lye to do men laughe,
Thanne lacchen I sholde
Outher mantel or moneie
Amonges lordes or mynstrals.
Ac for I kan neither taboure ne trompe,
Ne telle no gestes,
Farten ne fithelen
At festes, ne harpen,
8490
8490
Jape ne jogele,
Ne gentilliche pipe,
Ne neither saille ne saute,
Ne synge with the gyterne,
I have no goode giftes
Of thise grete lordes.
For no breed that I brynge forth,
Save a benyson on the Sonday
Whan the preest preieth the peple
Hir pater-noster to bidde
8500
8500
For Piers the Plowman,
And that hym profit waiten;
And that am I actif,
That ydelnesse hatie;
For alle trewe travaillours
And tiliers of the erthe,
Fro Mighelmesse to Mighelmesse
I fynde hem with my wafres.
"Beggeris and bidderisOf my breed craven,8510Faitours and freres,And folk with brode crounes.I fynde payn for the pope,And provendre for his palfrey;And I hadde nevere of hym,Have God my trouthe!Neither provendre ne personageYet of popes gifte,Savea pardon with a peis of leedAnd two polles amyddes.8520Hadde ich a clerc that couthe write,I wolde caste hym a bille,That he sente me under his seelA salve for the pestilence,And that his blessynge and hise bullesBocches myghte destruye.In nomine meo dæmonia ejicient, etsuper ægros manus imponent, etbene habebunt.
"Beggeris and bidderis
Of my breed craven,
8510
8510
Faitours and freres,
And folk with brode crounes.
I fynde payn for the pope,
And provendre for his palfrey;
And I hadde nevere of hym,
Have God my trouthe!
Neither provendre ne personage
Yet of popes gifte,
Savea pardon with a peis of leed
And two polles amyddes.
8520
8520
Hadde ich a clerc that couthe write,
I wolde caste hym a bille,
That he sente me under his seel
A salve for the pestilence,
And that his blessynge and hise bulles
Bocches myghte destruye.
In nomine meo dæmonia ejicient, et
super ægros manus imponent, et
bene habebunt.
"And thanne wolde I be prest to the peple8530Paast for to make,And buxom and busyAboute breed and drynkeFor hym and for alle hise,Founde I that his pardonMighte lechen a man,As I bileve it sholde.For sith he hath the powerThat Peter hymself hadde,He hath the pot with the salve,8540Soothly as me thynketh.Argentum et aurum non est mihi;quod autem habeo tibi do: innomine Domini surge etambula.
"And thanne wolde I be prest to the peple
8530
8530
Paast for to make,
And buxom and busy
Aboute breed and drynke
For hym and for alle hise,
Founde I that his pardon
Mighte lechen a man,
As I bileve it sholde.
For sith he hath the power
That Peter hymself hadde,
He hath the pot with the salve,
8540
8540
Soothly as me thynketh.
Argentum et aurum non est mihi;
quod autem habeo tibi do: in
nomine Domini surge et
ambula.
"Ac if myght of myracle hym faille,It is for men ben noght worthiTo have the grace of God,And no gilt of pope.For may no blessynge doon us boote,8550But if we wile amende,Ne mannes masse make peesAmong cristene peple,Til pride be pureliche for-do,And thorugh payn defaute.For er I have breed of mele,Oft moot I swete;And er the commune have corn y-nough,Many a cold morwenyng.So er my wafres be y-wroght,8560Muche wo I tholye.
"Ac if myght of myracle hym faille,
It is for men ben noght worthi
To have the grace of God,
And no gilt of pope.
For may no blessynge doon us boote,
8550
8550
But if we wile amende,
Ne mannes masse make pees
Among cristene peple,
Til pride be pureliche for-do,
And thorugh payn defaute.
For er I have breed of mele,
Oft moot I swete;
And er the commune have corn y-nough,
Many a cold morwenyng.
So er my wafres be y-wroght,
8560
8560
Muche wo I tholye.
"At Londone, I leve,Liketh wel my wafres;And louren whan thei lakken hem.It is noght long y-passed,There was a careful commune,Whan no cart com to towneWith breed fro Stratforde;Tho gonnen beggeris wepe,And werkmen were agast a lite;8570This wole be thought longe.In the date of oure Drighte,Ina drye Aprille,A thousand and thre hundredTwies twenty and ten,My wafres there were geseneWhan Chichestre was maire."
"At Londone, I leve,
Liketh wel my wafres;
And louren whan thei lakken hem.
It is noght long y-passed,
There was a careful commune,
Whan no cart com to towne
With breed fro Stratforde;
Tho gonnen beggeris wepe,
And werkmen were agast a lite;
8570
8570
This wole be thought longe.
In the date of oure Drighte,
Ina drye Aprille,
A thousand and thre hundred
Twies twenty and ten,
My wafres there were gesene
Whan Chichestre was maire."
I took good kepe, by Crist!And Conscience bothe,Of Haukyn the actif man,8580And how he was y-clothed.He hadde a cote of Cristendom,As holy kirke bileveth;Ac it was moled in many placesWith manye sondry plottes;Of pride here a plot,And there a plot of unbuxome speche,Of scornyng and of scoffyng,And of unskilful berynge,As in apparaill and in porte8590Proud amonges the peple,Oother wise than he hym hathWith herte or sighte shewynge,Hym willyng that alle men wendeHe were that he is noght.For-why he bosteth and braggethWith manye bolde othes,And inobedient to ben undernomeOf any lif lyvynge;And noon so singuler by hymself,8600Ne so pomp holy,Y-habited as an heremyte,An ordre by hymselve,Religion saunz ruleOr resonable obedience,Lakkynge lettrede menAnd lewed men botheIn likynge of lele lif,And a liere in soule,With inwit and with outwit8610Ymagynen and studie,As best for his body beTo have a badde name,And entremetten hym over alTher he hath noght to doone,Willynge that men wendeHis wit were the beste.And if he gyveth ought to povere gomes,Telle what he deleth,Povere of possession in purs8620And in cofre bothe.And as a lyoun on to loke,And lordlich of speche,Boldest of beggeris,A bostere that noght hath,In towne and in tavernesTales to telle,And segge thyng that he nevere seigh,And for sothe sweren it,Of dedes that he nevere dide8630Demen and bostenAnd of werkes that he wel dideWitnesse, and siggen—"Lo! if ye leve me noght,Or that I lye wenen,Asketh at hym or at hym,And he yow kan telleWhat I suffrede and seighAnd som tymes hadde,And what I kouthe and knew,8640And what kyn I com of."Al he wolde that men wisteOf werkes and of wordesWhich myghte plese the peple,And preisen hymselve.Si hominibus placerem, Christiservus non essem. Et alibi:Nemo potest duobus dominisservire.
I took good kepe, by Crist!
And Conscience bothe,
Of Haukyn the actif man,
8580
8580
And how he was y-clothed.
He hadde a cote of Cristendom,
As holy kirke bileveth;
Ac it was moled in many places
With manye sondry plottes;
Of pride here a plot,
And there a plot of unbuxome speche,
Of scornyng and of scoffyng,
And of unskilful berynge,
As in apparaill and in porte
8590
8590
Proud amonges the peple,
Oother wise than he hym hath
With herte or sighte shewynge,
Hym willyng that alle men wende
He were that he is noght.
For-why he bosteth and braggeth
With manye bolde othes,
And inobedient to ben undernome
Of any lif lyvynge;
And noon so singuler by hymself,
8600
8600
Ne so pomp holy,
Y-habited as an heremyte,
An ordre by hymselve,
Religion saunz rule
Or resonable obedience,
Lakkynge lettrede men
And lewed men bothe
In likynge of lele lif,
And a liere in soule,
With inwit and with outwit
8610
8610
Ymagynen and studie,
As best for his body be
To have a badde name,
And entremetten hym over al
Ther he hath noght to doone,
Willynge that men wende
His wit were the beste.
And if he gyveth ought to povere gomes,
Telle what he deleth,
Povere of possession in purs
8620
8620
And in cofre bothe.
And as a lyoun on to loke,
And lordlich of speche,
Boldest of beggeris,
A bostere that noght hath,
In towne and in tavernes
Tales to telle,
And segge thyng that he nevere seigh,
And for sothe sweren it,
Of dedes that he nevere dide
8630
8630
Demen and bosten
And of werkes that he wel dide
Witnesse, and siggen—
"Lo! if ye leve me noght,
Or that I lye wenen,
Asketh at hym or at hym,
And he yow kan telle
What I suffrede and seigh
And som tymes hadde,
And what I kouthe and knew,
8640
8640
And what kyn I com of."
Al he wolde that men wiste
Of werkes and of wordes
Which myghte plese the peple,
And preisen hymselve.
Si hominibus placerem, Christi
servus non essem. Et alibi:
Nemo potest duobus dominis
servire.
"By Crist!" quod Conscience tho,8650"Thi beste cote, Haukyn,Hath manye moles and spottes,It moste ben y-wasshe."
"By Crist!" quod Conscience tho,
8650
8650
"Thi beste cote, Haukyn,
Hath manye moles and spottes,
It moste ben y-wasshe."
"Ye, who so toke hede," quod Haukyn,"Bihynde and bifore,What on bak and what on body half,And by the two sydes,Men sholde fynde manye frounces,And manye foule plottes."
"Ye, who so toke hede," quod Haukyn,
"Bihynde and bifore,
What on bak and what on body half,
And by the two sydes,
Men sholde fynde manye frounces,
And manye foule plottes."
And he torned hym as tyd,8660And thanne took I hede,It was fouler bi fele foldThan it first semed.It was bi-dropped with wratheAnd wikkede wille,With envye and yvel speche,Entisynge to fighte,Liynge and laughynge,And leve tonge to chide,Al that he wiste wikked8670By any wight tellen it,And blame men bihynde hir bak,And bidden hem meschaunce,And that he wiste by WilleTellen it Watte,And that Watte wisteWille wiste it after,And make of frendes foesThorugh a fals tonge,Or with myght or with mouth,8680Or thorugh mennes strengtheAvenge me fele tymes,Other frete myselveWithinne as a shepsteres shere,Y-sherewed man and cursed.Cujus maledictione os plenum estet amaritudine, sub lingua ejuslabor et dolor. Et alibi: Filiihominum, dentes eorum armaet sagittæ, et lingua eorum8690gladius acutus.
And he torned hym as tyd,
8660
8660
And thanne took I hede,
It was fouler bi fele fold
Than it first semed.
It was bi-dropped with wrathe
And wikkede wille,
With envye and yvel speche,
Entisynge to fighte,
Liynge and laughynge,
And leve tonge to chide,
Al that he wiste wikked
8670
8670
By any wight tellen it,
And blame men bihynde hir bak,
And bidden hem meschaunce,
And that he wiste by Wille
Tellen it Watte,
And that Watte wiste
Wille wiste it after,
And make of frendes foes
Thorugh a fals tonge,
Or with myght or with mouth,
8680
8680
Or thorugh mennes strengthe
Avenge me fele tymes,
Other frete myselve
Withinne as a shepsteres shere,
Y-sherewed man and cursed.
Cujus maledictione os plenum est
et amaritudine, sub lingua ejus
labor et dolor. Et alibi: Filii
hominum, dentes eorum arma
et sagittæ, et lingua eorum
8690
8690
gladius acutus.
"Ther is no lif that me lovethLastynge any while;For tales that I telle,No man trusteth to me.And whan I may noght have the maistrie,Swich malencolie I take,That I cacche the crampe,And the cardiacle som tyme,Or an ague in swich an angre,8700And som tyme a fevereThat taketh me al a twelve monthe,Til that I despiseLechecraft of oure Lord,And leve on a wicche,And seye that no clerc ne kan,Ne Crist, as I leve,To the soutere of Southwerk,Or of Shordyche dame Emme;And seye that no Goddes word8710Gaf me nevere boote,But thorugh a charme hadde I chaunceAnd my chief heele."
"Ther is no lif that me loveth
Lastynge any while;
For tales that I telle,
No man trusteth to me.
And whan I may noght have the maistrie,
Swich malencolie I take,
That I cacche the crampe,
And the cardiacle som tyme,
Or an ague in swich an angre,
8700
8700
And som tyme a fevere
That taketh me al a twelve monthe,
Til that I despise
Lechecraft of oure Lord,
And leve on a wicche,
And seye that no clerc ne kan,
Ne Crist, as I leve,
To the soutere of Southwerk,
Or of Shordyche dame Emme;
And seye that no Goddes word
8710
8710
Gaf me nevere boote,
But thorugh a charme hadde I chaunce
And my chief heele."
I waitede wisloker,And thanne was it soilledWith likynge of lecherie,As by lokynge of his eighe.For ech a maide that he metteHe made hire a signeSemynge to synne-warde,8720And some tyme he gan tasteAboute the mouth, or bynetheBigynneth to grope,Til eitheres wille wexeth kene,And to the werke yeden,As wel in fastyng dayes and FridaiesAs forboden nyghtes,And as wel in Lente as out of Lente,Alle tymes y-liche.Swiche werkes with hem8730Were nevere out of seson,Til thei myghte na-moore;And thanne murye tales,And how that lecchours lovyeLaughen and japen,And of hir harlotrye and horedomIn hir elde tellen.
I waitede wisloker,
And thanne was it soilled
With likynge of lecherie,
As by lokynge of his eighe.
For ech a maide that he mette
He made hire a signe
Semynge to synne-warde,
8720
8720
And some tyme he gan taste
Aboute the mouth, or bynethe
Bigynneth to grope,
Til eitheres wille wexeth kene,
And to the werke yeden,
As wel in fastyng dayes and Fridaies
As forboden nyghtes,
And as wel in Lente as out of Lente,
Alle tymes y-liche.
Swiche werkes with hem
8730
8730
Were nevere out of seson,
Til thei myghte na-moore;
And thanne murye tales,
And how that lecchours lovye
Laughen and japen,
And of hir harlotrye and horedom
In hir elde tellen.
Thanne Pacience perceyvedOf pointes of this cote,That were colomy thorugh coveitise8740And unkynde desiryng;Moore to good than to GodThe gome his love caste,And ymagynede howHe it myghte haveWith false mesures and met,And with fals witnesse;Lened for love of the wed,And looth to do truthe;And awaited thorugh which8750Wey to bigile,And menged his marchaundise,And made a good moustre;"The worste withinne was,A greet wit I let it,And if my neghebore hadde any hyne,Or any beest ellis,Moore profitable than myn,Manye sleightes I madeHow I myghte have it,8760Al my wit I caste.And but I it hadde by oother wey,At the laste I stale it;Or priveliche his purs shook,And unpikede hise lokes;Or by nyghte or by dayeAboute was ich evere,Thorugh gile to gaderenThe good that ich have.
Thanne Pacience perceyved
Of pointes of this cote,
That were colomy thorugh coveitise
8740
8740
And unkynde desiryng;
Moore to good than to God
The gome his love caste,
And ymagynede how
He it myghte have
With false mesures and met,
And with fals witnesse;
Lened for love of the wed,
And looth to do truthe;
And awaited thorugh which
8750
8750
Wey to bigile,
And menged his marchaundise,
And made a good moustre;
"The worste withinne was,
A greet wit I let it,
And if my neghebore hadde any hyne,
Or any beest ellis,
Moore profitable than myn,
Manye sleightes I made
How I myghte have it,
8760
8760
Al my wit I caste.
And but I it hadde by oother wey,
At the laste I stale it;
Or priveliche his purs shook,
And unpikede hise lokes;
Or by nyghte or by daye
Aboute was ich evere,
Thorugh gile to gaderen
The good that ich have.
"If I yede to the plowgh,8770I pynched so narwe,That a foot lond or a forowFecchen I woldeOf my nexte neghebore,And nymen of his erthe.And if I repe, over-reche,Of yaf hem reed that ropenTo seise to me with hir sikelThat I ne sew nevere.
"If I yede to the plowgh,
8770
8770
I pynched so narwe,
That a foot lond or a forow
Fecchen I wolde
Of my nexte neghebore,
And nymen of his erthe.
And if I repe, over-reche,
Of yaf hem reed that ropen
To seise to me with hir sikel
That I ne sew nevere.
"And who so borwed of me,8780A-boughte the tymeWith presentes prively,Or paide som certeyn;So he wolde or noght wolde,Wynnen I wolde,And bothe to kith and to kynUnkynde of that ich hadde.
"And who so borwed of me,
8780
8780
A-boughte the tyme
With presentes prively,
Or paide som certeyn;
So he wolde or noght wolde,
Wynnen I wolde,
And bothe to kith and to kyn
Unkynde of that ich hadde.
"And who so cheped my chaffare,Chiden I wolde,But he profrede to paie8790A peny or tweyneMoore than it was worth;And yet wolde I swereThat it coste me muche moore,And swoor manye othes.
"And who so cheped my chaffare,
Chiden I wolde,
But he profrede to paie
8790
8790
A peny or tweyne
Moore than it was worth;
And yet wolde I swere
That it coste me muche moore,
And swoor manye othes.
"On holy daies at holy chircheWhan ich herde masse,Hadde I nevere wille, woot God,Witterly to bisecheMercy for my mysdedes,8800That I ne moorned mooreNor losse of good, leve me,Than for my likames giltes.As if I hadde dedly synne doon,I dredde noght that so soore,As when I lened, and leved it lost,Or longe er it were paied.So if I kidde any kyndenesseMyn even cristen to helpe,Upon a cruwel coveitise8810Myn herte gan hange.
"On holy daies at holy chirche
Whan ich herde masse,
Hadde I nevere wille, woot God,
Witterly to biseche
Mercy for my mysdedes,
8800
8800
That I ne moorned moore
Nor losse of good, leve me,
Than for my likames giltes.
As if I hadde dedly synne doon,
I dredde noght that so soore,
As when I lened, and leved it lost,
Or longe er it were paied.
So if I kidde any kyndenesse
Myn even cristen to helpe,
Upon a cruwel coveitise
8810
8810
Myn herte gan hange.
"And if I sente over seeMy servauntz toBrugges,Or intoPruce-londmy prentis,My profit to waiten,To marchaunden with moneie,And maken hire eschaunges,Mighte nevere me conforte.In the mene whileNeither masse ne matynes,8820No none maner sightes;Ne nevere penaunce perfournede,Ne pater-noster seide,That my mynde ne was mooreOn my good in a doute,Than in the grace of God,And hise grete helpes.Ubi thesaurus tuus, ibi et cor tuum.
"And if I sente over see
My servauntz toBrugges,
Or intoPruce-londmy prentis,
My profit to waiten,
To marchaunden with moneie,
And maken hire eschaunges,
Mighte nevere me conforte.
In the mene while
Neither masse ne matynes,
8820
8820
No none maner sightes;
Ne nevere penaunce perfournede,
Ne pater-noster seide,
That my mynde ne was moore
On my good in a doute,
Than in the grace of God,
And hise grete helpes.
Ubi thesaurus tuus, ibi et cor tuum.
"Whiche ben the braunchesThat bryngen a man to sleuthe?8830He that moorneth noght for hise mysdedes,Ne maketh no sorwe,And penaunce that the preest enjoynethPerfourneth yvele,Dooth noon almesse,Dred hym of no synne,Lyveth ayein the bileve,And no lawe holdeth,Ech day is holy day with hym,Or an heigh ferye;8840And, if he aught wole here,It is an harlotes tonge.Whan men carpen of Crist,Or of clennesse of soules,He wexeth wroth and wol noght hereBut wordes of murthe;Penaunce of povere men,And the passion of seintes,He hateth to here therof,And alle that it telleth.8850Thise ben the braunches, beth war,That bryngen a man to wanhope.
"Whiche ben the braunches
That bryngen a man to sleuthe?
8830
8830
He that moorneth noght for hise mysdedes,
Ne maketh no sorwe,
And penaunce that the preest enjoyneth
Perfourneth yvele,
Dooth noon almesse,
Dred hym of no synne,
Lyveth ayein the bileve,
And no lawe holdeth,
Ech day is holy day with hym,
Or an heigh ferye;
8840
8840
And, if he aught wole here,
It is an harlotes tonge.
Whan men carpen of Crist,
Or of clennesse of soules,
He wexeth wroth and wol noght here
But wordes of murthe;
Penaunce of povere men,
And the passion of seintes,
He hateth to here therof,
And alle that it telleth.
8850
8850
Thise ben the braunches, beth war,
That bryngen a man to wanhope.
"Ye lordes and ladies,And legates of holy chirche,That fedeth fooles sages,Flatereris and lieris,And han likynge to lithen hemTo do yow to laughe,Væ vobis qui ridetis, etc.And gyveth hem mete and mede,8860And povere men refuse;In youre deeth deyinge,I drede me ful sooreLest tho thre manner menTo muche sorwe yow brynge.=Consentientes et agentes pari pœna punientur.
"Ye lordes and ladies,
And legates of holy chirche,
That fedeth fooles sages,
Flatereris and lieris,
And han likynge to lithen hem
To do yow to laughe,
Væ vobis qui ridetis, etc.
And gyveth hem mete and mede,
8860
8860
And povere men refuse;
In youre deeth deyinge,
I drede me ful soore
Lest tho thre manner men
To muche sorwe yow brynge.
=
=
Consentientes et agentes pari pœna punientur.
"Patriarkes and prophetes,And prechours of Goddes wordes,Saven thorugh hir sermons8870Mannes soule fro helle.Right so flatereris and foolesArn the fendes disciplesTo entice men thorugh hir talesTo synne and to harlotrie.Ac clerkes, that knowen holy writ,Sholde kenne lordesWhat David seith of swiche men,As the Sauter telleth.Non habitabit in medio domus meæ,8880qui facit superbiam, et quiloquitur iniqua.
"Patriarkes and prophetes,
And prechours of Goddes wordes,
Saven thorugh hir sermons
8870
8870
Mannes soule fro helle.
Right so flatereris and fooles
Arn the fendes disciples
To entice men thorugh hir tales
To synne and to harlotrie.
Ac clerkes, that knowen holy writ,
Sholde kenne lordes
What David seith of swiche men,
As the Sauter telleth.
Non habitabit in medio domus meæ,
8880
8880
qui facit superbiam, et qui
loquitur iniqua.
"Sholde noon harlot have audienceIn halle nor in chambre,Ther wise men were,Witnesseth Goddes wordes,Ne no mys-proud manAmonges lordes ben allowed.
"Sholde noon harlot have audience
In halle nor in chambre,
Ther wise men were,
Witnesseth Goddes wordes,
Ne no mys-proud man
Amonges lordes ben allowed.
"Ac flaterers and foolesThorugh hir foule wordes8890Leden tho that loven hemTo Luciferis feste,WithTurpiloquio, a lady of sorwe,And Luciferis fithele."Thus Haukyn the actif manHadde y-soiled his cote,Til Conscience acouped hym therofIn a curteis manere,Why he ne hadde whasshen it,8899Or wiped it with a brusshe.
"Ac flaterers and fooles
Thorugh hir foule wordes
8890
8890
Leden tho that loven hem
To Luciferis feste,
WithTurpiloquio, a lady of sorwe,
And Luciferis fithele."
Thus Haukyn the actif man
Hadde y-soiled his cote,
Til Conscience acouped hym therof
In a curteis manere,
Why he ne hadde whasshen it,
8899
8899
Or wiped it with a brusshe.