Chapter 8

'And also,' quath Reson,'Ich rede yow, richeAnd comuners, to acordenIn alle kynne treuthe.Let no kynne consailNe covetyze yow departe,That on wit and on wilAlle youre wardes kepe.Lo! in hevene on hyWas an holy comune,Til Lucifer the lyereLeyved that hymselveWere wittyour and worthiourThan he that was hus maister.Hold yow in unité.And ye that hother woldeIs cause of alle combraunceTo confounde a reame.

'And also,' quath Reson,

'Ich rede yow, riche

And comuners, to acorden

In alle kynne treuthe.

Let no kynne consail

Ne covetyze yow departe,

That on wit and on wil

Alle youre wardes kepe.

Lo! in hevene on hy

Was an holy comune,

Til Lucifer the lyere

Leyved that hymselve

Were wittyour and worthiour

Than he that was hus maister.

Hold yow in unité.

And ye that hother wolde

Is cause of alle combraunce

To confounde a reame.

2586. Matt. xxv, 12.

2594. Whitaker'sPassus Sextusends with this line.

2625. Before Envy's confession, and in the place of Lechery, Whitaker's text introduces the confession of Pride—

Ich, Pruyde, patientlichePenaunce ich aske;For ich formest and ferstTo fader and to moderHave y-be unboxome,Ich beseche God of mercy;And unboxome y-be,Nouht abaissed to agulteGod and alle good men,So gret was myn herte;Inobedient to holy churche,And to hem that ther serven,Demed for hure yvel vices,And excited othereThorw my word and al my witHure yvel workes to shewe;And scorned hem and othere,Yf a skyle founde,Lauhynge al aloude,For lewede men sholdeWene that ich were wittyAnd wyser than anothere;Scorner and unskilful to hemThat skil shewede,In all manere mannersMy name to be y-knowe,Semeng a sovereyn on,Wer so me byfulleTo telle eny tale.Ich trowede me wiserTo carpen other to counsaileThan eny, lered other lewede.Proud of aparailIn porte amonge the puple,Otherwise than ich have,Withynne other withoute,Me wilnede that men wendeIch were in aveyrRiche and resonable,And ryghtful of lyvynge;Bostynge and braggyngeWyt meny bolde othes;Avauntyng upon my veine glorieFor eny undernemynge;And yut so syngeler by myselfNe non so pomp holy,Som tyme on a secte,Sam tyme on another;In all kynne covetyseContrevede how ich myghteBe holde for holy,And hondred sithe by that encheison;Wilnede that men wendeMy werkes were the besteAnd konnygest of my craft,Clerkes other othere,And strengest upon my stede,And styvest under gurdell,And lovelokest to loken on,And lykyngest a-bedde;And lykynge of such a lifThat no lawe preyseth;Proud of my faire fetours;And for ich songe shrille;And what ich gaf for Godes love,To godsybbes ich tolde,Ther to wene that ich wereWel holy and wel almesful.And non so bold beggerTo bydden an[d] crave,Tales to telleIn tavernes and in stretes,Thyng that nevere was thouhte,And yut ich swor ich sauh hit,And lyed on my lykameAnd on my lyf bothe.Of werkes that ich wel dudeWitnesse ich take,And syggen to suchThat sytten me bysyde,'Lo! yf ye leyve me nouht,Other that ye wene ich lye,Ask of hym other of hure,And thei conne yow telleWhat ich soffrede an[d] seih,And som tyme hadde,And what ich knew and couthe,Of wat kyn ich kam of;Al ich wolde that men wuste,When it to pruyde sonede,As to preised among the puple,Thauh ich povre semede.'Si hominibus placerem, Christi servusnon essem. Nemo potest duobusdominis servire.'Now God, of hus goodnesse,Geve the grace to amende!'Quath Repentaunce ryght with that;And thenne roos Envye.

Ich, Pruyde, patientliche

Penaunce ich aske;

For ich formest and ferst

To fader and to moder

Have y-be unboxome,

Ich beseche God of mercy;

And unboxome y-be,

Nouht abaissed to agulte

God and alle good men,

So gret was myn herte;

Inobedient to holy churche,

And to hem that ther serven,

Demed for hure yvel vices,

And excited othere

Thorw my word and al my wit

Hure yvel workes to shewe;

And scorned hem and othere,

Yf a skyle founde,

Lauhynge al aloude,

For lewede men sholde

Wene that ich were witty

And wyser than anothere;

Scorner and unskilful to hem

That skil shewede,

In all manere manners

My name to be y-knowe,

Semeng a sovereyn on,

Wer so me byfulle

To telle eny tale.

Ich trowede me wiser

To carpen other to counsaile

Than eny, lered other lewede.

Proud of aparail

In porte amonge the puple,

Otherwise than ich have,

Withynne other withoute,

Me wilnede that men wende

Ich were in aveyr

Riche and resonable,

And ryghtful of lyvynge;

Bostynge and braggynge

Wyt meny bolde othes;

Avauntyng upon my veine glorie

For eny undernemynge;

And yut so syngeler by myself

Ne non so pomp holy,

Som tyme on a secte,

Sam tyme on another;

In all kynne covetyse

Contrevede how ich myghte

Be holde for holy,

And hondred sithe by that encheison;

Wilnede that men wende

My werkes were the beste

And konnygest of my craft,

Clerkes other othere,

And strengest upon my stede,

And styvest under gurdell,

And lovelokest to loken on,

And lykyngest a-bedde;

And lykynge of such a lif

That no lawe preyseth;

Proud of my faire fetours;

And for ich songe shrille;

And what ich gaf for Godes love,

To godsybbes ich tolde,

Ther to wene that ich were

Wel holy and wel almesful.

And non so bold begger

To bydden an[d] crave,

Tales to telle

In tavernes and in stretes,

Thyng that nevere was thouhte,

And yut ich swor ich sauh hit,

And lyed on my lykame

And on my lyf bothe.

Of werkes that ich wel dude

Witnesse ich take,

And syggen to such

That sytten me bysyde,

'Lo! yf ye leyve me nouht,

Other that ye wene ich lye,

Ask of hym other of hure,

And thei conne yow telle

What ich soffrede an[d] seih,

And som tyme hadde,

And what ich knew and couthe,

Of wat kyn ich kam of;

Al ich wolde that men wuste,

When it to pruyde sonede,

As to preised among the puple,

Thauh ich povre semede.'

Si hominibus placerem, Christi servus

non essem. Nemo potest duobus

dominis servire.

'Now God, of hus goodnesse,

Geve the grace to amende!'

Quath Repentaunce ryght with that;

And thenne roos Envye.

The description of Envy, which follows, is shorter in Whitaker's text, and differs much from our text.

2819-2822. The discipline here described seems to have been peculiar to the chapter-house of the monasteries. Matth. Paris, p. 848, has an anecdote which illustrates curiously this passage of Piers Ploughman. In speaking of the turbulent Falcasius de Breuté, who had been warned in a vision to offer himself to suffer penance in the monastery of St. Albans, in the reign of Henry III, he says, "Vestibus igitur spoliatus cum suis militibus, similiter indumentis spoliatis, ferens in manu virgam quam vulgariterbaleisappellamus, et confitens culpam suam, ... a singulis fratribus disciplinas nuda carne suscepit."

2846. In the text which Whitaker has printed, the confession of Wrath was followed by that of Luxury or Lechery. It stands as follows in the copy of the same text in MS. Cotton. Vespas. B. xvi. (Seel.8713, of our present text.)

Thanne seide Lecherie, Alas!And to oure Ladi criede,'Ladi, for thi leve sone,Loute for me nouthe,That he have pité on me, putour,For his pure merci.''With that I schal,' quod that schrewe,'Saterdaies, for thi love,Drynke with the doke,And dine but ones.'I, gulti in gost,To God I me schrive,As in likyng of lecherigeMy licames gultes,In wordes, in wedes,In waityng of eyen,To eche maide that I metteI made here a sigge,Semyng to synne-ward,And summe can I tasteAboute the mouth, and binetheBigon I to grope,Til bothe oure wil was on,To werke we yeden,As wel fastyng daies,And hi festes eves,And wel in Lente as out of Lente,Al tymes i-liche;Swiche werkes with usWeren nevere out of seson,Til we mighten ne more,Tho hadde we muri talesOf putrige and of paramours,And provede thorw speche,Handelyng, and halsyng,And also thorw cussyng,Excityng heither otherTo oure elde synne;Sotilde songes,And sente out elde baudesFor te wynne to my wilWemmen with gile;Bi sorcerie sum time,And sum time be maistrie,I lai bi the lovelokest,And lovede hem nevere aftur.Whan I was eld and hor,And hadde i-lorn that kynde,I hadde likyng to ligeOf lecherous tales.Now, lord, for thi lewté,On lecheres have merci.

Thanne seide Lecherie, Alas!

And to oure Ladi criede,

'Ladi, for thi leve sone,

Loute for me nouthe,

That he have pité on me, putour,

For his pure merci.'

'With that I schal,' quod that schrewe,

'Saterdaies, for thi love,

Drynke with the doke,

And dine but ones.'

I, gulti in gost,

To God I me schrive,

As in likyng of lecherige

My licames gultes,

In wordes, in wedes,

In waityng of eyen,

To eche maide that I mette

I made here a sigge,

Semyng to synne-ward,

And summe can I taste

Aboute the mouth, and binethe

Bigon I to grope,

Til bothe oure wil was on,

To werke we yeden,

As wel fastyng daies,

And hi festes eves,

And wel in Lente as out of Lente,

Al tymes i-liche;

Swiche werkes with us

Weren nevere out of seson,

Til we mighten ne more,

Tho hadde we muri tales

Of putrige and of paramours,

And provede thorw speche,

Handelyng, and halsyng,

And also thorw cussyng,

Excityng heither other

To oure elde synne;

Sotilde songes,

And sente out elde baudes

For te wynne to my wil

Wemmen with gile;

Bi sorcerie sum time,

And sum time be maistrie,

I lai bi the lovelokest,

And lovede hem nevere aftur.

Whan I was eld and hor,

And hadde i-lorn that kynde,

I hadde likyng to lige

Of lecherous tales.

Now, lord, for thi lewté,

On lecheres have merci.

2850.Sire Hervy.Whitaker and Price (in Warton) suppose that there is here a personal allusion, which at the time had become proverbial.

2874.Symme at the Style.Whit.

2881.To Wy and to Wynchestre | I wente to the feyre.Warton (Hist. of Eng. p. ii, 55, edit. 1840) supposes Wy to be Weyhill, in Hampshire, "where a famous fair still subsists." In fact it is one of the greatest fairs in England, lasting ten days. For anecdotes of the celebrity of the great fair at Winchester in former times, and for some interesting observations on fairs in general,seeWarton, loc. cit.

2933.The Roode of Bromholm.At the Priory of Bromholm, in Norfolk, there was a celebrated cross, said to be made of fragments of the real cross, and much resorted to by pilgrims. It was brought from Constantinople to England in 1223. The history of this cross, and the miracles said to have been performed by it at Bromholm, are told by Matthew Paris (p. 268). In the MS. Chronicle of Barthol. de Cotton, it is recorded at the date 1223, "Eo tempore Peregrinatio de Bromholm incepit."

2949.Frensshe ... of Northfolk.Norfolk, it would appear by this, was one of the least refined parts of the island.

3030. In this part of the poem, the smaller variations between the present text and Whitaker's are very numerous. After this line, the following passage is inserted:—

With false wordes and writesIch have wonne my goodes,And with gyle and glosyngeGadered that ich have;Meddled my merchaundise,And mad a good moustre,The werst lay withynne,A gret wit ich let hit.And yf my neyhgebore had an hyne,Other eny best ellys,More profitable than myn,Ich made meny wentes,How ich myght have hitAl my wit ich caste;And bote ich hadde hit by othes away,At last ich stal hit,Other pryvyliche hus pors shok,Unpiked his lokes.And yf ich yede to the plouh,Ich pynchede on hus half acre,That a fot londe other a forweFetchen ich woldeOf my neyhgeboris next,Nymen of hus erthe,And yf y repe, over reche,Other gaf hem red that repenTo sese to me with here sykel,That ich sewe nevere.In haly dayes at holy churcheWenne ich hurde messe,Ich hadde nevere witerlichTo byseche mercyFor my mysdedes,That ich ne mornede ofterFor lost of good, leyve me,Then for lycames gultes.Thauh ich dedliche synne dude,Ich dradde hit nat so soreAs wenne ich lenede and leyvede hit lost,Other longe er hit were paied.And yf [ich] sente over seeMy servaunt to Brugges,Other into Prus my prentys,My profit to awaite,To marchaunde with monyeAnd maken here eshaunge,Myght nevere man comforty meIn the meyn time,Neither matyns ne masse,Ne othere manere syghtes,And nevere penaunce performede,Ne paternoster seyde.That my mynde ne wasMore in my goodes,Than in Godes grace,And hus grete myghte.Ubi thesaurus tuus, ibi cor tuum.Seell.8751-8827.

With false wordes and writes

Ich have wonne my goodes,

And with gyle and glosynge

Gadered that ich have;

Meddled my merchaundise,

And mad a good moustre,

The werst lay withynne,

A gret wit ich let hit.

And yf my neyhgebore had an hyne,

Other eny best ellys,

More profitable than myn,

Ich made meny wentes,

How ich myght have hit

Al my wit ich caste;

And bote ich hadde hit by othes away,

At last ich stal hit,

Other pryvyliche hus pors shok,

Unpiked his lokes.

And yf ich yede to the plouh,

Ich pynchede on hus half acre,

That a fot londe other a forwe

Fetchen ich wolde

Of my neyhgeboris next,

Nymen of hus erthe,

And yf y repe, over reche,

Other gaf hem red that repen

To sese to me with here sykel,

That ich sewe nevere.

In haly dayes at holy churche

Wenne ich hurde messe,

Ich hadde nevere witerlich

To byseche mercy

For my mysdedes,

That ich ne mornede ofter

For lost of good, leyve me,

Then for lycames gultes.

Thauh ich dedliche synne dude,

Ich dradde hit nat so sore

As wenne ich lenede and leyvede hit lost,

Other longe er hit were paied.

And yf [ich] sente over see

My servaunt to Brugges,

Other into Prus my prentys,

My profit to awaite,

To marchaunde with monye

And maken here eshaunge,

Myght nevere man comforty me

In the meyn time,

Neither matyns ne masse,

Ne othere manere syghtes,

And nevere penaunce performede,

Ne paternoster seyde.

That my mynde ne was

More in my goodes,

Than in Godes grace,

And hus grete myghte.

Ubi thesaurus tuus, ibi cor tuum.

Seell.8751-8827.

3039. Psa. l, 8.

3083. The confessions of the robber and the glutton are reversed in Whitaker's text, and present many variations. The robber's confession is there preceded by the following curious lines:—

Then was ther a WalishmanThat was wonderlich sory,He hight Yyvan Yeld ageyn;'If ich so moche have,Al that ich wickedlich wanSetthen ich hit hadde;And thauh my liflode lacheLeten ich nelleThat ech man shal have hus,Er ich hennes wende.For me ys levere in this lifAs a lorel beggen,Than in lysse to lyve,And lese lyf and soule.'

Then was ther a Walishman

That was wonderlich sory,

He hight Yyvan Yeld ageyn;

'If ich so moche have,

Al that ich wickedlich wan

Setthen ich hit hadde;

And thauh my liflode lache

Leten ich nelle

That ech man shal have hus,

Er ich hennes wende.

For me ys levere in this lif

As a lorel beggen,

Than in lysse to lyve,

And lese lyf and soule.'

3162. Between this line and the next, MS. Trin. Col. 2, insertsBargoynes and beverechis | Begonne for to arise.

3277,3278.rymes of Robyn Hood | and Randolf erl of Chestre.This seems to be the earliest mention of the ballads of Robin Hood which can now be found. Ritson was quite mistaken (Robin Hood, Introd. p. xlix) in the supposed mention of him by the prior of Alnwick, the title of the Latin song being modern. The passage of Fordun, in which Robin Hood is spoken of, is probably an interpolation.

I am not sure that Ritson is right in taking theRandolf erl of Chesterof Piers Ploughman, to be Ranulf de Blundevile: it is quite as probable that he was the Ranulf of Chester of the days of Stephen, whose turbulent deeds may have been the subject of popular ballads. Warton (H. E. P. ii, 373), quoting the passage of Piers Ploughman with the worderlomitted, conceives it to mean Ralph Higden, and imagines therymesto be the Chester Mysteries, of which he conjectured that Ralph Higden was the author.

3311.Ite missa est.The concluding sentence of the service of the Mass.

3408.the Rode of Chestre.There was a celebrated cross or rood at Chester, which was long an object of great veneration, and even of pilgrimage, among our Roman Catholic forefathers. "I do not recollect any thing remarkable (says Mr. Pennant, speaking of Chester) on the outside of the walls which has been unnoticed, unless it be the Rood-eye, and the adjacent places."—"The name of this spot is taken fromeye, its watery situation, and rood, the cross which stood there, whose base is still to be seen." Pennant's Tour in Wales, edit. 1778, p. 191. According to Gough's Camden, the base was still remaining in 1789.

3410.Roberd the robbere.This name is rather curious in conjunction with the termRoberdesmenmentioned in thenoteon l. 88. It was no uncommon practice to give punning names in this way to people or classes of people. In a Latin song of the reign of Henry III (Political Songs, p. 49), we have a very curious instance of it, one of the names being, as here,Robert:—

Competentur perRobert,robburdesignatur; Robertus excoriat, extorquet, et minatur.— Vir quicunque rabidus consors est Roberto.

Still earlier (12th cent.) a scribe says of one of his brothers, "Secundus dicebaturRobertus, quia a re nomen habuit,spoliatorenim diu fuit etprædo." (Polit. Songs, p. 354.)

3419.Dysmas.In middle-age legends, Dismas and Gestas were the names of the two thieves who were crucified with Christ. The former was the one who believed in the Saviour, and received a promise of paradise.

3443. Before this line, Whitaker's text has the following passage:—

Ac whiche be the braunchesThat bryngeth me to sleuthe,Ys wanne a man mourneth natFor hus mysdedes;The penaunce that the prest enjoynethParfourmeth uvele;Doth non almys-dedes,And drat nat of synne:Lyveth ayens the byleyve,And no lawe kepeth;And hath no lykynge to lerne,Ne of houre Lord hure,Bote harlotrie other horedom,Other elles of som wynnyng.Wan men carpen of CristOther of clennesse of soule,He wext wroth, and wol not huyreBote wordes of murthe,Penaunce and povre men,The passion of seyntes,He hateth to huyre therofAnd alle that therof carpen.Thuse beth the braunches, be war,That bryngeth man to wanhope.Ye lordes and ladyes,And legates of holy churche,That feden fool sages,Flaterers and lyers,And han lykynge to lythen hem,In hope to do yow lawe—Væ! vobis qui ridetis, etc.And geveth suche mede an mete,And povre men refusen;In youre deth deynge,Ich drede me soreLest tho maner menTo moche sorwe yow brynge.Consensientes et agentes pari pæna punientur.Patriarkes and prophetes,Prechours of Godes wordes,Saven thorgh here sermonsMannes soule fro helle:Ryght so flaterers and folesAren the fendes procuratores,Entysen men thorgh here talesTo synne and to harlotrie.Clerkus that knowen this,Sholde kennen lordesWhat David seide of suche men,As the Sauter telleth:Non habitabit in medio domus meæ quifacit superbiam, qui loquituriniquum.Sholde non harlot have audienceIn halle ne in chaumbre,Ther that wys men were.Whitnesse of Godes wordes;Nother a mys-prout manAmong lordes alouwed.Clerkus and knyghtesWolcometh kynges mynstrales,For love of here lordesLithen hem at festes:Muche more, me thenketh,Riche men auhteHave beggers byfore hem,Wiche beth Godes mynstreles,As he seith hymself,Seynt Johan berith whittnesse:Qui vos spernit, me etiam spernit.Therfor ich rede yow, riche,Reveles when ye maken,For to solace youre soules,Suche mynstrales to have,The povre for a foul sageSyttynge at thy table,Whith a lered man to lere theWhat oure Lord suffrede,For to savy thy sauleFram Satan thyn enemye,And fitayle the withoute flateryngOf Good Friday the feste:And a blynde man for a bordiour,Other a bed-reden wommanTo crye a largesse byfor oure Lord,Youre good loos to shewe.Thuse thre manere mynstralesMaken a man to lauhe;In hus deth deyngThei don hym gret comfort,That by hus lyfe loveth hem,And loveth hem to huyre.Thuse solaceth the soule,Til hymself be falleIn a wele good hope, for he wroghte so,Among worthy seyntes,Ther flaterers and folesWhith here foule wordesLeden tho that lithen hemTo Luciferes feste,WithTurpiloquio, a lay of sorwe,And Lucifers fitele,To perpetual peyneOther purgatorye as wykke,For he litheth and lovethThat Godes lawe despiteth.Qui histrionibus dat, dæmonibus sacrificat.

Ac whiche be the braunches

That bryngeth me to sleuthe,

Ys wanne a man mourneth nat

For hus mysdedes;

The penaunce that the prest enjoyneth

Parfourmeth uvele;

Doth non almys-dedes,

And drat nat of synne:

Lyveth ayens the byleyve,

And no lawe kepeth;

And hath no lykynge to lerne,

Ne of houre Lord hure,

Bote harlotrie other horedom,

Other elles of som wynnyng.

Wan men carpen of Crist

Other of clennesse of soule,

He wext wroth, and wol not huyre

Bote wordes of murthe,

Penaunce and povre men,

The passion of seyntes,

He hateth to huyre therof

And alle that therof carpen.

Thuse beth the braunches, be war,

That bryngeth man to wanhope.

Ye lordes and ladyes,

And legates of holy churche,

That feden fool sages,

Flaterers and lyers,

And han lykynge to lythen hem,

In hope to do yow lawe—

Væ! vobis qui ridetis, etc.

And geveth suche mede an mete,

And povre men refusen;

In youre deth deynge,

Ich drede me sore

Lest tho maner men

To moche sorwe yow brynge.

Consensientes et agentes pari pæna punientur.

Patriarkes and prophetes,

Prechours of Godes wordes,

Saven thorgh here sermons

Mannes soule fro helle:

Ryght so flaterers and foles

Aren the fendes procuratores,

Entysen men thorgh here tales

To synne and to harlotrie.

Clerkus that knowen this,

Sholde kennen lordes

What David seide of suche men,

As the Sauter telleth:

Non habitabit in medio domus meæ qui

facit superbiam, qui loquitur

iniquum.

Sholde non harlot have audience

In halle ne in chaumbre,

Ther that wys men were.

Whitnesse of Godes wordes;

Nother a mys-prout man

Among lordes alouwed.

Clerkus and knyghtes

Wolcometh kynges mynstrales,

For love of here lordes

Lithen hem at festes:

Muche more, me thenketh,

Riche men auhte

Have beggers byfore hem,

Wiche beth Godes mynstreles,

As he seith hymself,

Seynt Johan berith whittnesse:

Qui vos spernit, me etiam spernit.

Therfor ich rede yow, riche,

Reveles when ye maken,

For to solace youre soules,

Suche mynstrales to have,

The povre for a foul sage

Syttynge at thy table,

Whith a lered man to lere the

What oure Lord suffrede,

For to savy thy saule

Fram Satan thyn enemye,

And fitayle the withoute flateryng

Of Good Friday the feste:

And a blynde man for a bordiour,

Other a bed-reden womman

To crye a largesse byfor oure Lord,

Youre good loos to shewe.

Thuse thre manere mynstrales

Maken a man to lauhe;

In hus deth deyng

Thei don hym gret comfort,

That by hus lyfe loveth hem,

And loveth hem to huyre.

Thuse solaceth the soule,

Til hymself be falle

In a wele good hope, for he wroghte so,

Among worthy seyntes,

Ther flaterers and foles

Whith here foule wordes

Leden tho that lithen hem

To Luciferes feste,

WithTurpiloquio, a lay of sorwe,

And Lucifers fitele,

To perpetual peyne

Other purgatorye as wykke,

For he litheth and loveth

That Godes lawe despiteth.

Qui histrionibus dat, dæmonibus sacrificat.

3466.qui manet, &c.Epist. Joan. iv, 16.

3477. Epist. Paul, ad Ephes. iv, 8.

3484. Isai. ix, 2.

3496. Matt. ix, 13.

3502. John i, 14.

3520. Psalm xxxv, 8.

3545.Signes of Synay, | and shelles of Galice ... keyes of Rome.It is perhaps hardly necessary to remark that the articles mentioned here were borne by the pilgrim to indicate the particular holy sites which he had visited. The reader will readily call to mind the lines of a modern poet:—

The summon'd Palmer came in place,His sable cowl o'erhung his face;In his black mantle was he clad,WithPeter's keysin cloth of redOn his broad shoulders wrought;Thescallop shellhis cap did deck;The crucifix around his neckWas from Loretto brought.

The summon'd Palmer came in place,

His sable cowl o'erhung his face;

In his black mantle was he clad,

WithPeter's keysin cloth of red

On his broad shoulders wrought;

Thescallop shellhis cap did deck;

The crucifix around his neck

Was from Loretto brought.

3622.Seint Thomas shryne.St. Thomas of Canterbury. It may not perhaps be generally known that an interesting description of this shrine, when in its glory, is given by Erasmus, Colloq.Peregrinatio Religionis ergo.

3713.eten apples un-rosted.One of the many specimens of the burlesque manner in which scripture was frequently quoted in these times. A very singular passage (but in a tract professedly burlesque) occurs in the Reliquiæ Antiquæ, vol. i, p. 83:—"Peter askud Adam a full greyt dowtfull question, and seyd, 'Adam, Adam, why ete thu the appull unpard?' 'For sothe,' quod he, 'for y had no wardyns fryde.'"

3826.leven, should belenen.

3890. Luke xiv, 10.

3944,3948. Psalmlxviii, 29.

3997.the rode of Lukes.The second Trin. Col. MS. hasbe the rode of Chestre.There was a famous cross at Lucca, but whether a part of the real cross, I have not ascertained. Calvin, in his most able and entertainingAdmonitio de Reliquiis, declines undertaking a list of all the places where pieces of the real cross were shown. "Denique si congesta in acervum essent omnia quæ reperiri possent, integrum navis onus efficerent: cum tamen evangelium testificetur ab unico homine ferri potuisse. Quantæ igitur audaciæ fuit, ligneis frustis sic totum implere orbem, quibus ferendis ne trecenti quidem homines sufficiant?"Calvini,Opusc.p. 277. There was also at Lucca one of the impressions of our Saviour's face on the handkerchief of Veronica. The peculiar oath of William Rufus was by the holy face at Lucca.

4027.with hey trolly lolly.MS. Trin. Col. 2.

4154. In the second Trin. Col. MS. the passage stands as follows:—

Ne hadde Peris but a pese lof,Thei preyede hym beleve,And with a bene batteHe hadde betwene,And hitte hunger therwithAmydde hise lippes,And blodde in it the bodywardA bolle ful of growel,Ne hadde the fisician ferstDefendite him watir,To abate the barly bred,And the benis y-grounde,Thei hadde be ded be this day,And dolven al warm.Faitours for fer, etc.

Ne hadde Peris but a pese lof,

Thei preyede hym beleve,

And with a bene batte

He hadde betwene,

And hitte hunger therwith

Amydde hise lippes,

And blodde in it the bodyward

A bolle ful of growel,

Ne hadde the fisician ferst

Defendite him watir,

To abate the barly bred,

And the benis y-grounde,

Thei hadde be ded be this day,

And dolven al warm.

Faitours for fer, etc.

4194.Thei corven here coppes, | and courtepies made.Whitaker, who translates it, "Theycarved wooden cups, and made themselves short cloaks." It ought to be, "They cut their copes to make courtpies (a kind of short cloaks) of them."

4242. Paul Epist. ad Galat. vi, 2.

4251. Scimus enim qui dixit, mihi vindicta, et ego retribuam. Paul. ad Heb. x, 30; conf. Paul. ad Rom. xii, 19.

4256. Luke xvi, 9.

4272. Propter frigus piger arare noluit. Prov. xx, 4.

4306. Labores manuum tuarum quia manducabis, beatus es et bene tibi erit. Psal. cxxvii, 2.

4336.His mawe is alongid.MS. Trin. Coll. 2.

4336. Whitaker's text inserts here the following passage, which is curious as containing the same word,latchdrawers, that occurs in Edward's statute, quoted before in thenoteto l. 88:—

Thenk that Dives for hus delicat lyfTo the devel wente,And Lazar the lene beggereThat longed after cromes,And yut had he hem nat,For ich Hunger culde hym,And suthe ich sauh hym sute,As he a syre were,At alle manere eseIn Abrahame lappe.An yf you be of power,Peers, ich the rede,Alle that greden at thy gateFor Godes love after fede,Parte wit hem of thy payn,Of potage and of souel,Lene hem som of thy loof,Thauh thu the lesse chewe.And thauh lyers and latchedrawers,And lolleres knocke,Let hem abyde tyl the bord be drawe,Ac bere hem none cromes,Tyl al thyn nedy neiheboresHave none y-maked.

Thenk that Dives for hus delicat lyf

To the devel wente,

And Lazar the lene beggere

That longed after cromes,

And yut had he hem nat,

For ich Hunger culde hym,

And suthe ich sauh hym sute,

As he a syre were,

At alle manere ese

In Abrahame lappe.

An yf you be of power,

Peers, ich the rede,

Alle that greden at thy gate

For Godes love after fede,

Parte wit hem of thy payn,

Of potage and of souel,

Lene hem som of thy loof,

Thauh thu the lesse chewe.

And thauh lyers and latchedrawers,

And lolleres knocke,

Let hem abyde tyl the bord be drawe,

Ac bere hem none cromes,

Tyl al thyn nedy neihebores

Have none y-maked.

4339.Phisik ... hise furred hodes ... his cloke of Calabre.Whitaker cites, in illustration of the dress of the physician, the costume still worn by the Doctors of Medicine in the universities. Chaucer gives the following description of the dress of the "Doctour of Phisike":—

In sangwin and in pers he clad was al,Lyned with taffata, and with sendal.(Cant. T. Prolog. 441.)

In sangwin and in pers he clad was al,

Lyned with taffata, and with sendal.

(Cant. T. Prolog. 441.)

Calabreappears to have been a kind of fur: a document in Rymer, quoted by Ducange, speaks of anindumentum foderatum cum Calabre.

4390.ripe chiries manye.This passage, joined with the mention of cherry-time in l. 2794, shows that cherries were a common fruit in the fourteenth century. "Mr. Gough, in his British Topography, says that cherries were first brought in by the Romans, but were afterwards lost and brought in again in the time of Henry VIII, by Richard Harris, the king's fruiterer; but this is certainly a mistake. When in the New Forest in Hampshire in the summer of 1808, I saw a great many cherry-trees, apparently, of much more considerable age than the time of Henry VIII. Thevery oldtrees were universally of the kind calledmerries." H. E.

4431. Cato, Distich. i, 21:—

Infantem nudum quum te natura crearit,Paupertatis onus patienter ferre memento.

Infantem nudum quum te natura crearit,

Paupertatis onus patienter ferre memento.

4453.so seide Saturne.See the Introduction, p. xii.

4490. Whitaker's text reads after this line:—

Leel and ful of love,And no lord dreden,Merciable to meek,And mylde to the goode,And bytynge on badde menBote yf thei wolde amende,And dredeth nat for no dethTo distruye by here powereLecherie among lordes,And hure luther custymes,And sithen lyve as thei lereth men,Oure lorde Treuthe hem graunteth,To be peeres to Apostles, &c.

Leel and ful of love,

And no lord dreden,

Merciable to meek,

And mylde to the goode,

And bytynge on badde men

Bote yf thei wolde amende,

And dredeth nat for no deth

To distruye by here powere

Lecherie among lordes,

And hure luther custymes,

And sithen lyve as thei lereth men,

Oure lorde Treuthe hem graunteth,

To be peeres to Apostles, &c.

4525.sette scolers to scole.It was common in thescholasticages for scholars to wander about gathering money to support them at the universities. In a poem in MS. Lansdowne, No. 762, the husbandman, complaining of the many burdens he supports in taxes to the court, payments to the church, and charitable contributions of different kinds, enumerates among the latter the alms to scholars:—

Than cometh clerkys of Oxford, and mak their mone,To her scole-hire they most have money.

Than cometh clerkys of Oxford, and mak their mone,

To her scole-hire they most have money.

4547. Psa. xiv, 5. Qui pecuniam suam non dedit ad usuram, et munera super innocentem non accepit.

4571. Psa. xiv, 1.

4593. Matt. vii, 12. Luke vi, 31.

4618.the clerc of stories.Called, elsewhere,maister of stories. These names were givenpopularlyto Peter Comestor, author of the famous Historia Scolastica, a paraphrase of the Bible history, with abundance of legendary matter added to it. The title given him by the author of Piers Ploughman is not uncommon in English treatises of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Lydgate, Minor Poems, p. 102 (Ed. Halliwell), speaks of Comestor thus:—

Maister of storyes, this doctour ful notable,Holding a chalice here in a sonne cliere.

Maister of storyes, this doctour ful notable,

Holding a chalice here in a sonne cliere.

4619.Catons techyng."Cui des videto," is the twenty-third of the "Distichorum Lemmata" of Dionysius Cato.

4621. Instead of ll. 4621-4658, the following long and curious passage is substituted in the text adopted by Mr. Whitaker:—

Wot no man, as ich wene,Who is worthy to have.The most needy aren oure neighebores,And we nyme good hede;As prisoners in puttes,And poore folke in cotesCharged with childrenAnd chef lordes rente,That thei spynnynge may spare,Spynen hit in hous hyre,Bothe in mylk and in mele.To maken with papelotesTo aglotye with here gurlesThat greden after fode.Al so hemselveSuffren muche hunger,And wo in winter tyme;With wakyng a-nyghtesTo ryse to the ruel,To rocke the cradel,Bothe to karde and to kembe,To clouten and to wasche,To rubbe and to rely,Russhes to pilie,That reuthe is to redeOthere in ryme sheweThe wo that theese womenThat wonyeth in cotes,And of meny other menThat muche wo suffren,Bothe a-fyngrede and a-furst,To turne the fayre outwarde;And beth abasshed for to begge,And wolle nat be y-knoweWhat hem needeth att here neiheboresAt non and at even.This Wit wot witerly,As the world techeth,What other byhovethThat hath meny children.And hath no catel bote hus crafteTo clothy hem and to fede,And fele to fonge therto,And fewe pans taketh.Ther is payn and peny ale,As for a pytaunce y-take;Cold flesch and cold fyssh,For veneson y-bake.Frydays and fastyng-dayesFerthyng worth of musclesWere a feste for suche a folke,Other so fele cockes.Theese were almes to helpeThat han suche charges,And to comforte suche cotyers,And crokede men and blynde.Ac beggers with bagges, the wicheBrewhouses ben here churches,Bote thei be blynde other broke,Other elles syke,Thauh he falle for defaute,That faiteth for hus lyflode,Reicheth nevere, ye ryche,Thauh suche lorelles sterven;For all that han here heleAnd here eyen syghte,And lymes to laborye with,And lolleres lyf usen,Lyven ayens Godes lawe,And love of holy churche.And yut arn ther other beggers,In hele, as it semeth;Ac hem wanteth here witt,Men and women bothe,The wiche aren lunatik lollersAnd leperes aboute,And mad, as the mone sitt,More other lasse:Thei caren for no cold,Ne counteth of no hete,And are mevenge after the mone,Moneyles thei walke,With a good wil wit-lees,Meny wyde contreys,Ryght as Peter dude and Paul,Save that thei preche nat,Ne myracles maken;Ac meny tymes hem happethTo prophetien of the puple,Pleyninge, as hit were,And to oure sight, as hit semeth,Suththe God hath the myghteTo yeven eche a whit wit,Welthe, and his hele,And suffreth suche so gon,Hit semeth to myn inwitt,Hit arn as hus aposteles suche puple,Other as his prevye disciples;For he sente hem forth selverles,In a somer garnement,Withoute bred and bagge,As the Bok telleth.Quando misi vos sine pane et pera.Bar fot and bred-les,Beggeth thei of no man;And thauh he mete with the meyereIn mydest the strete,He reverenceth hym ryght nouhtNo rather than another.Neminem salutaveris per viam,Suche manere of men,Matheu ous techeth,We sholde have hem to house,And help hem when thei come.Et egenos vagosque induc in domum tuam.For hit aren murye mouthede men,Mynstrales of heveneAnd Godes boyes bordiours,As the Bok telleth.Si quis videtur sapiens, fiet stultus utsit sapiens.And alle manere mynstrales,Men wot wel the sothe,To underfonge hem faireByfalle for the ryche;For the lordes love and ladiesThat thei with lengen,Men suffren al that suche seyn,And in solas taken;And yut more to suche menDoth, er thei passe,Gyven hem gyftes and gold,For grete lordes sake.Ryght so, ye riche,Rather ye sholde, for sothe,Wolcomen and worsshepenAnd with youre goode helpenGodes mynstrales, and hus messagers,And hus murye burdiers,The wiche are lunatik lollaresAnd leperes aboute.For under Godes secré seelHere synnes ben y-keverede.For thei bereth no bagges,Ne non botels under clokes,The wiche is lollaren lyfAnd lewede eremytes,That loken ful louhelicheTo lacchen mennes almesse,In hope to suten at evenBy the hote coles,Unlouke hus legges abrod,Other lygge at hus ese,Reste hym and roste hym,And his ryg turne,Drynke drue and deepe,And drawe hym thanne to bedde,And when hym lyketh and lustHus leve ys is to aryse;When he rysen, rometh out,And ryght wel aspiethWar he may rathest have a repast,Other a rounde of bacon,Sulver other fode-meteAnd some tyme bothe,A loof other alf a loof,Other a lompe of chese,And carieth it hom to hus cote,And cast hym to lyveIn ydelnesse and in ese,And by others travayle.And wat frek of thys toldeFisketh thus abouteWith a bagge at hus bak,Abegeneldes wyse,And can som manere craft,In cas he wolde hit use.Thorgh wiche craft he couthe comeTo bred and to ale,And ovar more to an haterTo helye with hus bones,And lyveth like a lollere,Godes lawe him dampneth.Lolleres lyvinge in sleuthe,And overe lond stryken,Beeth nat in thys bulle, quath Peers,Til thei ben amended.Nother beggars that beggen,Bote yf thei have neede.The Bok blameth alle beggerye,And banneth in this manere: etc.

Wot no man, as ich wene,

Who is worthy to have.

The most needy aren oure neighebores,

And we nyme good hede;

As prisoners in puttes,

And poore folke in cotes

Charged with children

And chef lordes rente,

That thei spynnynge may spare,

Spynen hit in hous hyre,

Bothe in mylk and in mele.

To maken with papelotes

To aglotye with here gurles

That greden after fode.

Al so hemselve

Suffren muche hunger,

And wo in winter tyme;

With wakyng a-nyghtes

To ryse to the ruel,

To rocke the cradel,

Bothe to karde and to kembe,

To clouten and to wasche,

To rubbe and to rely,

Russhes to pilie,

That reuthe is to rede

Othere in ryme shewe

The wo that theese women

That wonyeth in cotes,

And of meny other men

That muche wo suffren,

Bothe a-fyngrede and a-furst,

To turne the fayre outwarde;

And beth abasshed for to begge,

And wolle nat be y-knowe

What hem needeth att here neihebores

At non and at even.

This Wit wot witerly,

As the world techeth,

What other byhoveth

That hath meny children.

And hath no catel bote hus crafte

To clothy hem and to fede,

And fele to fonge therto,

And fewe pans taketh.

Ther is payn and peny ale,

As for a pytaunce y-take;

Cold flesch and cold fyssh,

For veneson y-bake.

Frydays and fastyng-dayes

Ferthyng worth of muscles

Were a feste for suche a folke,

Other so fele cockes.

Theese were almes to helpe

That han suche charges,

And to comforte suche cotyers,

And crokede men and blynde.

Ac beggers with bagges, the wiche

Brewhouses ben here churches,

Bote thei be blynde other broke,

Other elles syke,

Thauh he falle for defaute,

That faiteth for hus lyflode,

Reicheth nevere, ye ryche,

Thauh suche lorelles sterven;

For all that han here hele

And here eyen syghte,

And lymes to laborye with,

And lolleres lyf usen,

Lyven ayens Godes lawe,

And love of holy churche.

And yut arn ther other beggers,

In hele, as it semeth;

Ac hem wanteth here witt,

Men and women bothe,

The wiche aren lunatik lollers

And leperes aboute,

And mad, as the mone sitt,

More other lasse:

Thei caren for no cold,

Ne counteth of no hete,

And are mevenge after the mone,

Moneyles thei walke,

With a good wil wit-lees,

Meny wyde contreys,

Ryght as Peter dude and Paul,

Save that thei preche nat,

Ne myracles maken;

Ac meny tymes hem happeth

To prophetien of the puple,

Pleyninge, as hit were,

And to oure sight, as hit semeth,

Suththe God hath the myghte

To yeven eche a whit wit,

Welthe, and his hele,

And suffreth suche so gon,

Hit semeth to myn inwitt,

Hit arn as hus aposteles suche puple,

Other as his prevye disciples;

For he sente hem forth selverles,

In a somer garnement,

Withoute bred and bagge,

As the Bok telleth.

Quando misi vos sine pane et pera.

Bar fot and bred-les,

Beggeth thei of no man;

And thauh he mete with the meyere

In mydest the strete,

He reverenceth hym ryght nouht

No rather than another.

Neminem salutaveris per viam,

Suche manere of men,

Matheu ous techeth,

We sholde have hem to house,

And help hem when thei come.

Et egenos vagosque induc in domum tuam.

For hit aren murye mouthede men,

Mynstrales of hevene

And Godes boyes bordiours,

As the Bok telleth.

Si quis videtur sapiens, fiet stultus ut

sit sapiens.

And alle manere mynstrales,

Men wot wel the sothe,

To underfonge hem faire

Byfalle for the ryche;

For the lordes love and ladies

That thei with lengen,

Men suffren al that suche seyn,

And in solas taken;

And yut more to suche men

Doth, er thei passe,

Gyven hem gyftes and gold,

For grete lordes sake.

Ryght so, ye riche,

Rather ye sholde, for sothe,

Wolcomen and worsshepen

And with youre goode helpen

Godes mynstrales, and hus messagers,

And hus murye burdiers,

The wiche are lunatik lollares

And leperes aboute.

For under Godes secré seel

Here synnes ben y-keverede.

For thei bereth no bagges,

Ne non botels under clokes,

The wiche is lollaren lyf

And lewede eremytes,

That loken ful louheliche

To lacchen mennes almesse,

In hope to suten at even

By the hote coles,

Unlouke hus legges abrod,

Other lygge at hus ese,

Reste hym and roste hym,

And his ryg turne,

Drynke drue and deepe,

And drawe hym thanne to bedde,

And when hym lyketh and lust

Hus leve ys is to aryse;

When he rysen, rometh out,

And ryght wel aspieth

War he may rathest have a repast,

Other a rounde of bacon,

Sulver other fode-mete

And some tyme bothe,

A loof other alf a loof,

Other a lompe of chese,

And carieth it hom to hus cote,

And cast hym to lyve

In ydelnesse and in ese,

And by others travayle.

And wat frek of thys tolde

Fisketh thus aboute

With a bagge at hus bak,

Abegeneldes wyse,

And can som manere craft,

In cas he wolde hit use.

Thorgh wiche craft he couthe come

To bred and to ale,

And ovar more to an hater

To helye with hus bones,

And lyveth like a lollere,

Godes lawe him dampneth.

Lolleres lyvinge in sleuthe,

And overe lond stryken,

Beeth nat in thys bulle, quath Peers,

Til thei ben amended.

Nother beggars that beggen,

Bote yf thei have neede.

The Bok blameth alle beggerye,

And banneth in this manere: etc.

4645. Luke xix, 23.

4659. Ps. xxxvi, 25. Junior fui, etenim senui: et non vidi justum derelictum, nec semen ejus quærens panem.

4695. Here again, after many verbal variations from our text, Whitaker's text adds the following long passage, which is very curious, and well worthy to be preserved. Whitaker calls it "one of the finest passages in the whole poem."

Ac eremites that enhabiten hemBy the heye weyes,And in borwes among brewesters,And beggen in churchesAl that holy eremytesHateden and despisede,As rychesses and reverencesAnd ryche mennes almesse.These lolleres, latche-draweres,Lewede eremytes,Coveyten the contrarie,As cotyers thei lybben,For hit beth bote boyes,Lolleres atten ale,Of linguage of lettrureNe lyf-holy as eremytesThat wonnede wyle in wodesWith beres and lyones.Some had lyflode of here lynage,And of no lyf elles;And some lyvede by here lettrureAnd labour of here hondes;Some had foreynes to frendes,That hem fode sente;And bryddes brouhten to some bred,Werby thei lyveden.Alle thuse holy eremytesWere of hye kynne,Forsoke londe and lordshepAnd lykynges of the body;Ac thuse eremytes, that edefyenThus by the hye weyes,Wylen were workmen,Webbes and taillours,And carters knavesAnd clerkus without grace,Heelden hungry hous,And had much defaute,Long labour and lyte wynnynge,And atte laste aspidenThat faitours in frere clothyngeHad fatte chekus;For-thi lefte thei here laboure,Theese lewede knaves,And clothed hem in copes,Clerkus as hit were.Other on of som ordre,Othere elles prophite,Ayens the lawe he lyveth,Yf Latyn be trywe:Non licet nobis legem voluntate, sed voluntatemconjungere legi.Now kyndeliche, by Crist!Beth suche callyd lolleres,As by Englisch of oure eldres,Of olde menne techynge,He that lolleth his lame,Other his leg out of the joynte,Other meymed in som membre,For to meschief hit souneth;And ryght so sothlycheSuche manere eremytesLollen ayen the bylyeveAnd lawe of holy churche.For holy churche hotethAlle manere pupleUnder obedience to bee,And buxum to the lawe,Furst religious of religionHere ruele to holde,And under obedience to beBy dayes and by nyghtes,Lewede men to laborie,Lordes to honteIn frythes and in forestesFor fox and other bestesThat in wilde wodes ben,And in wast places,As wolves that wyrhyeth men,Wommen, and children,And upon Sonedayes to cesse,Godes service to huyre,Bothe matyns and messe,And after mete in churchesTo huyre here eve songEvery man ouhte.Thus it bylongeth for lorde,For lered and lewede,Eche halyday to huyreHollyche the service,Vigiles and fastyng dayesForthere to knowe,And fulfille tho fastyngesBote infirmité hit made,Poverte othere penaunces,As pilgrymages and travayles.Under this obedienceArn we echone.Who so brekyeth this, be wel war,Bot yf he repente,Amenden hym and mercy aske,And meekliche hym shryve,Ich drede me, and he deye,Hit worth for dedlich synneAcounted byfore Crist,Bote Conscience excuse hym.Loke now were theese lolleresAnd lewede eremytes,Yf thei breke thys obedienceThat ben so fro churche,Wher see we hem on SonedaysThe servise to huyre?As matyns by the morweTyl masse bygynne,Other Sonedays at eve songe,See we wol fewe;Othere labory for our lyflodeAs the lawe woldeAc at mydday meel tymeIch mete with hem ofte,Conynge in a copeAs he a clerke were,A bachelor other a beaupereBest hym bysemeth,And for the cloth that kevereth hemCald his here a frere,Whassheth and wypeth,And with the furste suteth.Ac while he wrought in thys worlde,And wan hus mete with Treuthe,He sat atte syd bencheAnd secounde table,Com no wyn in hus wombeThorw the weke longe,Nother blankett in hus bed,Ne white bred byfore hym.The cause of al thys caitiftéCometh of meny bisshepes,That suffren suche sottesAnd othere synnes regne.Certes ho so thurste hit segge,Symon quasi dormit.Vigilatewere fairour,For thow hast gret charge:For meny waker wolvesBen broke into foldes.Thyne berkeres ben al blynde,That bryngeth forth thy lambren;Disperguntur oves, thi doggeDar nat beerke.The tarre is untydyThat to thyne sheep bylongeth;Hure salve ys ofsupersedeasIn someneres boxes,Thyne sheep are ner al shabbyd,The wolf sheteth woolle.Sub molli pastore lupus lanam cacat, etgrex incustoditus dilaceratur eo.Hoow hurde wher is thyn hounde,And thyn hardy herte,For to wyne the wolfThat thy woolle fouleth.Ich leyve for thy lacchesseThow leest meny wederes,And ful meny fayre flusFalsliche wasshe.When thy lord loketh to haveAlowance for hus bestes,And of the monye thow haddist thermyd,Hus meable to save,And the woolle worth weye,Woo ys the thenne!Redde rationem villicationis tuæ,Other arerage, ffalle.Then hyre hurde, as ich hope,Hath nouht to quyty thy dette,Ther as mede ne mercyMay nat a myte avayle,Bote have this for that,Tho that thow tokeMercy for mede,And my lawe breke;Loke now for thi lacchesseWhether lawe wol the grauntPurgatorie for thy paye,Other perpetuel helle.For shal no pardone praye for yowe ther,Nother princes letteres.

Ac eremites that enhabiten hem

By the heye weyes,

And in borwes among brewesters,

And beggen in churches

Al that holy eremytes

Hateden and despisede,

As rychesses and reverences

And ryche mennes almesse.

These lolleres, latche-draweres,

Lewede eremytes,

Coveyten the contrarie,

As cotyers thei lybben,

For hit beth bote boyes,

Lolleres atten ale,

Of linguage of lettrure

Ne lyf-holy as eremytes

That wonnede wyle in wodes

With beres and lyones.

Some had lyflode of here lynage,

And of no lyf elles;

And some lyvede by here lettrure

And labour of here hondes;

Some had foreynes to frendes,

That hem fode sente;

And bryddes brouhten to some bred,

Werby thei lyveden.

Alle thuse holy eremytes

Were of hye kynne,

Forsoke londe and lordshep

And lykynges of the body;

Ac thuse eremytes, that edefyen

Thus by the hye weyes,

Wylen were workmen,

Webbes and taillours,

And carters knaves

And clerkus without grace,

Heelden hungry hous,

And had much defaute,

Long labour and lyte wynnynge,

And atte laste aspiden

That faitours in frere clothynge

Had fatte chekus;

For-thi lefte thei here laboure,

Theese lewede knaves,

And clothed hem in copes,

Clerkus as hit were.

Other on of som ordre,

Othere elles prophite,

Ayens the lawe he lyveth,

Yf Latyn be trywe:

Non licet nobis legem voluntate, sed voluntatem

conjungere legi.

Now kyndeliche, by Crist!

Beth suche callyd lolleres,

As by Englisch of oure eldres,

Of olde menne techynge,

He that lolleth his lame,

Other his leg out of the joynte,

Other meymed in som membre,

For to meschief hit souneth;

And ryght so sothlyche

Suche manere eremytes

Lollen ayen the bylyeve

And lawe of holy churche.

For holy churche hoteth

Alle manere puple

Under obedience to bee,

And buxum to the lawe,

Furst religious of religion

Here ruele to holde,

And under obedience to be

By dayes and by nyghtes,

Lewede men to laborie,

Lordes to honte

In frythes and in forestes

For fox and other bestes

That in wilde wodes ben,

And in wast places,

As wolves that wyrhyeth men,

Wommen, and children,

And upon Sonedayes to cesse,

Godes service to huyre,

Bothe matyns and messe,

And after mete in churches

To huyre here eve song

Every man ouhte.

Thus it bylongeth for lorde,

For lered and lewede,

Eche halyday to huyre

Hollyche the service,

Vigiles and fastyng dayes

Forthere to knowe,

And fulfille tho fastynges

Bote infirmité hit made,

Poverte othere penaunces,

As pilgrymages and travayles.

Under this obedience

Arn we echone.

Who so brekyeth this, be wel war,

Bot yf he repente,

Amenden hym and mercy aske,

And meekliche hym shryve,

Ich drede me, and he deye,

Hit worth for dedlich synne

Acounted byfore Crist,

Bote Conscience excuse hym.

Loke now were theese lolleres

And lewede eremytes,

Yf thei breke thys obedience

That ben so fro churche,

Wher see we hem on Sonedays

The servise to huyre?

As matyns by the morwe

Tyl masse bygynne,

Other Sonedays at eve songe,

See we wol fewe;

Othere labory for our lyflode

As the lawe wolde

Ac at mydday meel tyme

Ich mete with hem ofte,

Conynge in a cope

As he a clerke were,

A bachelor other a beaupere

Best hym bysemeth,

And for the cloth that kevereth hem

Cald his here a frere,

Whassheth and wypeth,

And with the furste suteth.

Ac while he wrought in thys worlde,

And wan hus mete with Treuthe,

He sat atte syd benche

And secounde table,

Com no wyn in hus wombe

Thorw the weke longe,

Nother blankett in hus bed,

Ne white bred byfore hym.

The cause of al thys caitifté

Cometh of meny bisshepes,

That suffren suche sottes

And othere synnes regne.

Certes ho so thurste hit segge,

Symon quasi dormit.

Vigilatewere fairour,

For thow hast gret charge:

For meny waker wolves

Ben broke into foldes.

Thyne berkeres ben al blynde,

That bryngeth forth thy lambren;

Disperguntur oves, thi dogge

Dar nat beerke.

The tarre is untydy

That to thyne sheep bylongeth;

Hure salve ys ofsupersedeas

In someneres boxes,

Thyne sheep are ner al shabbyd,

The wolf sheteth woolle.

Sub molli pastore lupus lanam cacat, et

grex incustoditus dilaceratur eo.

Hoow hurde wher is thyn hounde,

And thyn hardy herte,

For to wyne the wolf

That thy woolle fouleth.

Ich leyve for thy lacchesse

Thow leest meny wederes,

And ful meny fayre flus

Falsliche wasshe.

When thy lord loketh to have

Alowance for hus bestes,

And of the monye thow haddist thermyd,

Hus meable to save,

And the woolle worth weye,

Woo ys the thenne!

Redde rationem villicationis tuæ,

Other arerage, ffalle.

Then hyre hurde, as ich hope,

Hath nouht to quyty thy dette,

Ther as mede ne mercy

May nat a myte avayle,

Bote have this for that,

Tho that thow toke

Mercy for mede,

And my lawe breke;

Loke now for thi lacchesse

Whether lawe wol the graunt

Purgatorie for thy paye,

Other perpetuel helle.

For shal no pardone praye for yowe ther,

Nother princes letteres.

4708. Matth. xxv, 46. Et ibunt hi in supplicium æternum; justi autem in vitam æternam.

4721. Psal. xxii, 4.

4739. Psal. xli, 4.

4745. Luke xii, 22. Conf. Matth. vi, 25.

4764. "Dixit insipiens in corde suo, non est Deus," is the commencement of Psalms xiii. and lii.

4769. Prov. xxii, 10. Ejice derisorem, et exibit cum eo jurgium, cessabuntque causæ et contumeliæ.

4771.Perkyn, the diminutive of Peter, or Piers. Formerly the diminutives of people's names were constantly used as marks of familiarity or endearment, as Hawkyn or Halkyn for Henry, Tymkyn for Tim or Timothy, Dawkyn for David, Tomkyn for Thomas, &c.

4796. Cato, Distich. ii, 31.

Back to Index Next