The Vision and Creed of Piers Ploughman, Volume 1
by William Langland · English · Gutenberg #43660 · 378,545 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Vision and Creed of Piers Ploughman, Volume 1
Author: William Langland
Editor: Thomas Wright
Release date: September 7, 2013 [eBook #43660]
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Language: English
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* * * * *
Library of Old Authors.
[Illustration: Spede the plough & send us korne enough]
THE VISION AND CREED
OF
PIERS PLOUGHMAN.
EDITED,
FROM A CONTEMPORARY MANUSCRIPT,
WITH A HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION,
NOTES, AND A GLOSSARY,
BY THOMAS WRIGHT, M.A. F.S.A. &c.
Corresponding Member of the Imperial Institute of France,
Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
_SECOND AND REVISED EDITION._
LONDON:
REEVES AND TURNER, 196 STRAND.
1887.
_PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION._
It is now thirteen years since the first edition of the following text of
this important poem was published by the late Mr. Pickering, during which
time the study of our old literature and history has undergone considerable
development, and it is believed that a reprint at a more moderate price
would be acceptable to the public. Holding still the same opinion which he
has always held with regard to the superior character of the manuscript
from which this text was taken, the editor has done no more than carefully
reprint it, but, in order to make it as useful as he could, he has revised
and made additions to both the Notes and the Glossary.
The remarkable poem of The Vision of Piers Ploughman is not only so
interesting a monument of the English language and literature, but it is
also so important an illustration of the political history of our country
during the fourteenth century, that it deserves to be read far more
generally than it has been, and the editor will rejoice sincerely if he
should have contributed by this new edition to render it more popular, and
place it within the reach of a greater number of readers. Independent of
its historical and literary importance, it contains many beauties which
will fully repay the slight labour required to master its partially
obsolete language, and, as one of the purest works in the English tongue as
it existed during the century in which it was composed, it is to be hoped
that, when the time shall at length arrive when English antiquities and
English philology and literary history are at length to be made a part of
the studies in our universities and in the higher classes of our schools,
the work of the Monk of Malvern, as a link between the poetry and language
of the Anglo-Saxon and those of modern England, will be made a prominent
text-book.
THOMAS WRIGHT.
14, SYDNEY STREET, BROMPTON,
_Nov. 1855_.
_INTRODUCTION._
The History of the Middle Ages in England, as in other countries,
represents to us a series of great consecutive political movements,
coexistent with a similar series of intellectual revolutions in the mass of
the people. The vast mental development caused by the universities in the
twelfth century led the way for the struggle to obtain religious and
political liberty in the thirteenth. The numerous political songs of that
period which have escaped the hand of time, and above all the mass of
satirical ballads against the Church of Rome, which commonly go under the
name of Walter Mapes, are remarkable monuments of the intellectual history
of our forefathers. Those ballads are written in Latin; for it was the most
learned class of the community which made the first great stand against the
encroachments and corruptions of the papacy and the increasing influence of
the monks. We know that the struggle alluded to was historically
unsuccessful. The baronial wars ended in the entire destruction of the
popular leaders; but their cause did not expire at Evesham; they had laid
foundations which no storm could overthrow, not placed hastily on the
uncertain surface of popular favour, but fixed deeply in the public mind.
The barons, who had fought so often and so staunchly for the great charter,
had lost their power; even the learning of the universities had faded under
the withering grasp of monachism; but the remembrance of the old contest
remained, and what was more, its literature was left, the songs which had
spread abroad the principles for which, or against which, Englishmen had
fought, carried them down (a precious legacy) to their posterity. Society
itself had undergone an important change; it was no longer a feudal
aristocracy which held the destinies of the country in its iron hand. The
plant which had been cut off took root again in another (a healthier) soil;
and the intelligence which had lost its force in the higher ranks of
society began to spread itself among the commons. Even in the thirteenth
century, before the close of the baronial wars, the complaints so
vigorously expressed in the Latin songs, had begun, both in England and
France, to appear in the language of the people. Many of the satirical
poems of Rutebeuf and other contemporary writers against the monks, are
little more than translations of the Latin poems which go under the name of
Walter Mapes.
During the successive reigns of the first three Edwards, the public mind in
England was in a state of constant fermentation. On the one hand, the
monks, supported by the popish church, had become an incubus upon the
country. Their corruptness and immorality were notorious: the description
of their vices given in the satirical writings of the thirteenth and
fourteenth centuries exceeds even the bitterest calumnies of the age of
Rabelais or the reports of the commissioners of Henry the Eighth.[1] The
populace, held in awe by the imposing appearance of the popish church, and
by the religious belief which had been instilled into them from their
infancy, were opposed to the monks and clergy by a multitude of personal
griefs and jealousies: these frequently led to open hostility, and in the
chronicles of those days we read of the slaughter of monks, and the burning
of abbeys, by the insurgent towns-people or peasantry. At the same time,
while the monks in revenge treated the commons with contempt, there were
numerous people who, under the name of Lollards and other such
appellations,--led sometimes by the love of mischief and disorder, but more
frequently by religious enthusiasm,--whose doctrines were simple and
reasonable (although the church would fain have branded them all with the
title of heretics),--went abroad among the people preaching not only
against the corruptions of the monks, but against the most vital doctrines
of the church of Rome, and, as might be expected, they found abundance of
listeners. On the other hand, a new political system, and the
embarrassments of a continued series of foreign wars, were adding to the
general ferment. Instead of merely calling together the great feudal barons
to lead their retainers to battle, the king was now obliged to appeal more
directly to the people; and at the same time the latter began to feel the
weight of taxation, and consequently they began to talk of the defects and
the corruptions of the government, and to raise the cries, which have since
so often been heard, against the king's "evil advisers." These cries were
justified by many real and great oppressions under which the commons, and
more particularly the peasantry, suffered; and (as the king and aristocracy
were too much interested in the continuance of the abuses complained of to
be easily induced to agree to an effective remedy), the commons began to
feel that their own interests were equally opposed to those of the church,
of the aristocracy, and of the crown, and amidst the other popular
doctrines none were more loudly or more violently espoused than those of
levellers and democrats. These, though comparatively few, aggravated the
evil, by affording a pretence for persecution. The history of England
during the fourteenth century is a stirring picture; its dark side is the
increasing corruption of the popish church; its bright side, the general
spread of popular intelligence, and the firm stand made by the commons in
the defence of their liberties, and in the determination to obtain a
redress of grievances.
Under these circumstances appeared PIERS PLOUGHMAN. It is not to be
supposed that all the other classes of society were hostile to the commons.
The people, with the characteristic attachment of the Anglo-Saxons to the
family of their princes, wished to believe that their king was always their
friend, when not actuated by the counsels of his "evil advisers;"[2]
several of the most powerful barons stood forward as the champions of
popular liberty; and many of the monks quitted their monasteries to
advocate the cause of the reformation. It appears to be generally agreed
that a monk was the author of the poem of Piers Ploughman; but the
question, one perhaps but of secondary importance, as to its true writer,
is involved in much obscurity.[3] Several local allusions and other
circumstances seem to prove that it was composed on the borders of Wales,
where had originated most of the great political struggles, and we can
hardly doubt that its author resided in the neighbourhood of "Malverne
hilles." We have less difficulty in ascertaining its date. At ll.
1735-1782, we have, without doubt, an allusion to the treaty of Bretigny,
in 1360, and to the events which preceded it: in the earlier part of this
passage there is an allusion to the sufferings of the English army in the
previous winter campaign, to the retreat which followed, and the want of
provisions which accompanied it, and to the tempest which they encountered
near Chartres (the "dym cloude" of the poem). The "pestilences" mentioned
at l. 2497 were the great plague which happened in 1348-9 (and which had
previously been alluded to in the opening of the poem, l. 168), and that of
1361-2,--the first two of the three great pestilences which devastated our
island in the fourteenth century. The south-western wind, mentioned in l.
2500, occurred on the fifteenth day of January 1362. It is probable that
the poem of Piers Ploughman was composed in the latter part of this year,
when the effects of the great wind were fresh in people's memory, and when
the treaty of Bretigny had become a subject of popular discontent.[4]
The poem was given to the world under a name which could not fail to draw
the attention of the people. Amid the oppressive injustice of the great and
the vices of their idle retainers, the corruptions of the clergy, and the
dishonesty which too frequently characterised the dealings of merchants and
traders, the simple unsophisticated heart of the ploughman is held forth as
the dwelling of virtue and truth. It was the ploughman, and not the pope
with his proud hierarchy, who represented on earth the Saviour who had
descended into this world as the son of the carpenter, who had lived a life
of humility, who had wandered on foot or ridden on an ass. "While God
wandered on earth," says one of the political songs of the beginning of the
fourteenth century,[5] "what was the reason that he would not ride?" The
answer expresses the whole force of the popular sentiment of the age:
"because he would not have a retinue of greedy attendants by his side, in
the shape of grooms and servants, to insult and oppress the peasantry."
At the period when this poem was first published, England, in common with
the rest of Europe, had been struck with a succession of calamities. Little
more than twelve years had passed since a terrible pestilence had swept
away perhaps not less than one-half of the population.[6] The lower
classes, ill fed and neglected, perished by thousands, while the higher
ranks--the proud and pampered nobility--escaped; "he who was ill nourished
with unsubstantial food," says a contemporary writer, "fell before the
slightest breath of the destroyer; to the poor, death was welcome, for life
is to them more cruel than death. But death respected princes, nobles,
knights, judges, gentlemen; of these few die, because their life is one of
enjoyment."[7] It was the general belief that this fearful visitation had
been sent by God as a punishment for the sins which had more particularly
characterised the higher orders of society; yet instead of profiting by the
warning, they became, during the years which followed, prouder, more cruel
and oppressive, and more licentious, than before. Another pestilence came,
which visited the classes that had before escaped, and at the same time a
tempest such as had seldom been witnessed seemed to announce the vengeance
of heaven. The streets and roads were filled with zealots who preached and
prophesied of other misfortunes, to people who had scarcely recovered from
the terror of those which were past. At this moment the satirist stepped
forth, and laid open with unsparing knife the sins and corruptions which
provoked them.
From what has been said, it will be seen that the Latin poems attributed to
Walter Mapes, and the Collection of Political Songs, form an introduction
to the Vision of Piers Ploughman. It seems clear that the writer was well
acquainted with the former, and that he not unfrequently imitates them. The
Poem on the Evil Times of Edward II. already alluded to (in the Political
Songs) contains within a small compass all his chief points of accusation
against the different orders of society. But a new mode of composition had
been brought into fashion since the appearance of the famous "Roman de la
Rose," and the author makes his attacks less directly, under an allegorical
clothing. The condition of society is revealed to the writer in a dream, as
in the singular poem just mentioned, and as in the still older satire, the
_Apocalypsis Goliæ_; but in Piers Ploughman the allegory follows no
systematic plot, it is rather a succession of pictures in which the
allegorical painting sometimes disappears altogether, than a whole like the
Roman de la Rose, and it is on that account less tedious to the modern
reader, while the vigorous descriptions, the picturesque ideas, and
numerous other beauties of different kinds, cause us to lose sight of the
general defects of this class of writings.
Piers Ploughman is, in fact, rather a succession of dreams, than one simple
vision. The dreamer, weary of the world, falls asleep beside a stream amid
the beautiful scenery of Malvern Hills. In his vision, the people of the
world are represented to him by a vast multitude assembled in a fair
meadow; on one side stands the tower of Truth, elevated on a mountain, the
right aim of man's pilgrimage, while on the other side is the dungeon of
Care, the dwelling place of Wrong. In the first sections (_passus_) of the
poem are pictured the origin of society, the foundation and dignity of
kingly power, and the separation into different classes and orders. In the
midst of his astonishment at what he sees, a fair lady, the personification
of "holy church," approaches, to instruct the dreamer. She explains to him
the meaning of the different objects which had presented themselves to his
view, and shows by exhortations and examples the merit of content and
moderation, the danger of disobedience (exemplified in the story of
Lucifer's fall), and the efficacy of love and charity. In the midst of his
conversation with his instructor, a lady makes her appearance on the scene.
This is lady Mede, the personification of that mistaken object at which so
large a portion of mankind direct their aim--the origin of most of the
corruptions and evil deeds in the world--not the just remuneration of our
actions which we look forward to in a future life, but the reward which is
sought by those who set all their hopes on the present. Holy Church now
quits the dreamer, who is left to observe what is taking place amid the
crowd in the field. (_Passus II._) They all pay their court to lady Mede,
who, by the intermediation of Cyvyle, or the law, is betrothed in marriage
to Falsehood. The marriage is forbidden by Theology, and Cyvyle agrees to
carry the cause to London for judgment, contrary to the desire of Simony.
Falsehood and Flattery bribe the lawyers to aid the former in his suit, but
their designs are baffled by Conscience, at whose suggestion the king takes
the lady into his own custody, and drives away Falsehood and his greedy
followers. Mede soon finds favour at court (_Passus III._), and especially
with the friars, who are ready to absolve her of all her sins for a proper
consideration. The king proposes to marry her to Conscience; who, however,
declines the match, and as a reason for his refusal gives a very
unfavourable picture of the lady's previous life and private character.
Mede defends herself, and accuses Conscience of thwarting and opposing the
will and designs of kings and great people. The dispute becoming hot, the
king interferes and orders Mede and Conscience to be reconciled and kiss
each other. (_Passus IV._) This Conscience refuses to do, unless by the
advice of Reason; on whose arrival, Peace comes into the parliament to make
his complaint against the cruel oppressions of Wrong. Wrong is condemned,
but Mede and the lawyers attempt to get him off with the payment of a sum
of money. The king, however, allows himself to be guided by Reason and
Conscience, expresses his dissatisfaction that law is influenced by Mede,
and his determination to govern his realm by the counsel of Reason.
In a second vision (_Passus V._), the dreamer is again carried to the
"field full of folk," where Reason has taken upon himself the character of
a preacher, and, fortified with the king's authority, induces the various
classes of sinners to confess and repent. The personification of the
different sins forms perhaps the most remarkable part of the whole poem.
The multitude being thus converted from their evil courses, are persuaded
by Repentance and Hope to set out on a pilgrimage in search of Truth. In
their ignorance of the path which they must follow in this search, they
apply to a palmer who had wandered over a large portion of the world in
search of different saints; but they find him as little acquainted with the
way as themselves. They are helped out of this dilemma by Piers the
Ploughman, who, seeing them terrified by the difficulties of the road,
offers to be their guide, if they will wait till he has sown his half acre.
(_Passus VI._) In the mean time all the pilgrims who have strength and
skill, are employed on some useful works, except the knight, who
undertakes, in return for the support which he is to derive from the
ploughman's labours, to watch and protect him against plunderers and
foreign enemies. The peace of the labourers is first disturbed by Waster,
who refuses to perform the conditions by which the others are bound: the
aid of the knight being found inefficient against this turbulent gentleman,
the Ploughman is obliged to send for Hunger, who effectually humbles him.
This section of the poem is a continued allusion to the effects of the
famine and pestilence, and a satire upon the luxurious and extravagant life
of our forefathers in the fourteenth century. (_Passus VII._) Truth,
hearing of the intentions of Piers the Ploughman to leave his labours in
order to serve as a guide to the pilgrims in their journey, sends him a
messenger, exhorting him to remain at home and continue his labours, and
giving him a "pardon" which was to embrace all those who aided him
honestly, by their works, and who should carry on their various avocations
in purity of heart. The writer here takes occasion to sneer at the
"pardons" of the pope, then so much in vogue; a priest questions the
legitimacy of Piers' bull of pardon, and the altercation between them
becomes so loud that the dreamer awakes. The pardon of Piers Ploughman is
granted to those who do good works: the dreamer is lost in the speculation
on the question as to what the good works are, and he becomes engaged in a
new pilgrimage, in search of a person who has not appeared
before,--Do-well.
(_Passus VIII._) All his inquiries after Do-well are fruitless: even the
friars, to whom he addresses himself, give but a confused account; and,
weary with wandering about, the dreamer is again overtaken by slumber.
Thought now appears to him, and recommends him to Wit, who describes to him
the residence of Do-well, Do-better, and Do-best, and enumerates their
companions and attendants. (_Passus IX._) The Castle of Do-well is an
allegorical representation of man (the individual), in which lady Anima
(the soul) is placed for safety, and guarded by a keeper named Kynde
(nature). With Do-well, the representative of those who live according to
truth in honest wedlock, are contrasted the people who live in lust and
wickedness, the descendants of the murderer Cain, who was begotten by Adam
in an evil hour. (_Passus X._) Wit has a wife named lady Study, who is
angry that her spouse should lay open his high truths to those who are
uninitiated--it is no better than "throwing pearls to swine, which would
rather have hawes." Wit is daunted by his wife's long lecture, and leaves
the dreamer to pursue his own suit. This he does with so much meekness and
humility, that the wrath of dame Study is appeased, and she sends him to
Clergy, with a token of recommendation from herself. Clergy receives the
pilgrim, and entertains him with a long declamation on the character of
Do-well, Do-better, and Do-best, and on the corruptions of the church and
the monkish orders, in the course of which is uttered the remarkable
prophecy of the king who was to "confess and beat" the monks, and give them
an "incurable knock," which was after less than two centuries so exactly
fulfilled in the dissolution of the monasteries. The wanderer confesses
himself "little the wiser" for Clergy's lecture, and by his pertness of
reply merits a reproof from Scripture. (_Passus XI._) In another vision the
dreamer is exposed to the seductions of Fortune, whose two fair damsels,
Concupiscentia-carnis and Covetousness-of-the-Eyes, persuade him to enjoy
the present moment, and lead him entirely from his previous pursuit. He is
only recalled from his error by the approach of Old Age, and then he falls
into the contemplation of a series of subjects, the covetousness of the
friars who gave absolution from motives of personal interest,
predestination, &c. Then Kynde, or Nature, came and carried him to a
mountain, which represented the world, and there showed him how all other
animals but man followed Reason; and Imaginative came after, and told him
that all his present doubt and anxiety had been brought upon him for
contending with Reason and suffering himself to be led astray by Fortune.
(_Passus XII._) The whole of the next section of the poem is occupied with
a long exhortation by Imaginative, concerning God's chastisements, the
merits of Charity and Mercy, the greater responsibility before God of those
who are learned and cannot sin ignorantly, the difficulty for the rich man
to enter heaven.
(_Passus XIII._) In another vision, Conscience meets with the dreamer, and
takes him to dine with Clergy. Patience comes to the feast in beggar's
weeds, but is seated in the most honourable place at the table. A doctor of
the church is of the party, and distinguishes himself by his gluttony; and
by discussing theological questions after dinner. At length Conscience and
Patience go on a pilgrimage. In their way they meet with a minstrel, named
Activa Vita, or Haukyn the Active-man, with a coat covered with spots of
dirt, whom they question on his mode of life. (_Passus XIV._) Haukyn the
Active-man, the representative of that class of people who neglect their
souls for their worldly affairs, excuses the dirtiness of his apparel on
the ground that he has none to change, and that he has too many occupations
to allow him time to have it cleaned. Conscience and Patience teach him a
method to clean his coat, inform him where charity is to be found, and
recommend patient poverty to him, showing him the advantage of poverty over
riches. Haukyn's repentance and lamentation for the neglect of his duties
awake the dreamer.
(_Passus XV._) Amid his anxiety to know something more certain of Do-well,
the dreamer has another vision, in which Soul appears to him, and enters
into a long relation of the corruptions and negligence of the clergy.
(_Passus XVI._) Soul finally sends him to Piers the Ploughman, who
possesses the garden in which the tree of Charity grows, and which is
rented under him by Free-will. Piers explains to him the nature of the
tree, and of the props which support it; and shakes down some of the fruit
for him. The allegory then changes, and we are introduced to the birth and
passion of the Saviour, as arising out of the fruit of Charity. At this
moment the dreamer awakes, and therewith loses sight of Piers the
Ploughman; in his anxiety to find Piers, he meets with Faith, in the garb
of Abraham, who was in search of God, now incarnate, and who waited for his
passion in order to be delivered from hell. (_Passus XVII._) Then comes
Spes, or Hope, who also was in search of the knight that was to vanquish
the evil one. As they go along the way towards Jerusalem to the "justes,"
discoursing on the obligations of the old and new law and the abrogation of
the former, they meet with a man who had been left helpless by thieves,
wounded and naked: Faith and Hope passed by without helping him, but the
Samaritan, who was also riding to the "justes," descended from his horse,
bound his wounds, and deposited him in an inn at the grange named _Lex
Christi_. The Samaritan gives the dreamer a singular explanation of the
mysteries of the Trinity; and, after having represented to him the
heinousness of sins against the different persons, and the necessity of
making reparation, he pursues his way to Jerusalem.
(_Passus XVIII._) The vision which forms the eighteenth section or
_passus_, and in which the character of Piers the Ploughman is identified
with that of the Saviour, is entirely occupied with an allegorical
description of Christ's Passion, and his descent into Hell. (_Passus XIX._)
In the next section the history of Christ's passion and victory, and his
figurative representative Piers the Ploughman, is continued. Grace, through
Piers the Ploughman, descends upon the people, and lays the foundation of
the Church, which is cultivated by Piers with his four oxen (the four
Evangelists). Piers is attacked by Pride, who gathers a great host to
assail the Church. Conscience advises the people who follow Piers (the
Church), to take shelter in the stronghold of Unity, and make preparations
for their defence. By the counsel of Kind-wit and Conscience they dig a
great ditch around Unity. The measures of Surety are embarrassed by the
unreasonable opposition of some members or parts of the community, who
oppose Pier's doctrine of restitution--the brewer will not repent of the
tricks which he puts on his customers, the vicar adheres to his simony, the
lord will continue to oppress his tenants, and the king will not be
restrained by his laws. (__Passus XX.__) In the last section of the poem,
the dreamer, after having been accosted by Need, who preaches on the
virtues of temperance, has a vision of Antichrist, who comes to attack the
Castle of Unity. It must be remembered that at this period many people
supposed that Antichrist was already on the earth, and that he was the
cause of all the evils with which mankind was then visited, so that this
last notion brought the allegory home to people's feelings. The
standard-bearer of Antichrist was Pride. Conscience called Kynde, or
Nature, to his aid, who brought an army of diseases and pestilences. Death,
one of his chief soldiers, made terrible havoc. At length Kynde ceased his
ravages; and a horde of enemies immediately arose against Conscience, such
as Fortune, Lechery, Covetousness, Simony. Life, with his mistress Fortune,
indulged in all kinds of excess, until he was visited by Age and Despair,
who treated him very roughly. The dreamer, forsaken by Fortune, and
participating in the misfortunes of Life, by the advice of Kynde takes
shelter with Conscience in the castle of Unity, which is threatened by an
army of priests and monks. At length this stronghold is endangered by the
entrance of Flattery, who is admitted in the disguise of a Physician.
Conscience, unable to retain possession, embarks upon another pilgrimage in
search of Piers the Ploughman, and the dreamer awakes. This is the
conclusion of the poem. Whitaker thought that it should have had a more
consoling end; but it must be remembered that the writer of Piers Ploughman
designed to paint the world as it was, and to describe the numerous
obstacles which lay in the way of the improvement and amelioration of
mankind when he wrote.
While one member of the monastic order was thus contributing by his
satirical pen towards producing a reform among his countrymen, another monk
was beginning to preach in a still bolder manner against the popish system.
This was John Wycliffe, under whom the despised lollards became an
important sect. This attempt at religious reformation only formed part of
the great movement of the fourteenth century, which soon afterwards broke
out in the popular commotions of the reign of Richard II. The writer of
Piers Ploughman was neither a sower of sedition, nor one who would be
characterised by his contemporaries as a heretic. The doctrines inculcated
throughout the book are so far from democratic, that he constantly preaches
the Christian doctrine of obedience to rulers. Yet its tendency to debase
the great, and to raise the commons in public consideration, must have
rendered it popular among the latter: and, although no single important
doctrine of the popish religion is attacked, yet the unsparing manner in
which the vices and corruptions of the church are laid open, must have
helped in no small degree the cause of the Reformation. Of the ancient
popularity of Piers Ploughman we have a proof in the great number of copies
which still exist, most of them written in the latter part of the
fourteenth century; and the circumstance that the manuscripts are seldom
executed in a superior style of writing, and scarcely ever ornamented with
painted initial letters, may perhaps be taken as a proof that they were not
written for the higher classes of society. From the time when it was
published, the name of Piers Ploughman became a favourite among the popular
reformers.[8] The earliest instance of the adoption of that name for
another satirical work is found in the Creed of Piers Ploughman, printed
also in the present volume, and in which even the form of verse of the
Vision is imitated.
In this latter poem, which was undoubtedly written by a Wycliffite, Piers
Ploughman is no longer an allegorical personage--he is the simple
representative of the peasant rising up to judge and act for himself--the
English _sans-culotte_ of the fourteenth century, if we may be allowed the
comparison. When it was written, a period of great excitement had passed
since the age of Langlande, the reputed author of the Vision--a period
characterised by the turbulence of the peasantry--which had witnessed in
France the fearful insurrection of the _Jacquerie_, and in England the
rebellion of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw.[9]
In Piers Ploughman's Creed it is the church simply, and not the state,
which is the object of attack. The clergy--and more particularly the
monks--are accused of having falsified religion, and of being actuated
solely by worldly passions--pride, covetousness, self-love. The writer,
placing himself in the position of one who has just learnt the first
grounds of religious knowledge, is anxious to find a person capable of
instructing him in his creed, and with this object he addresses himself to
the different orders of friars. He applies first to the Minorites, who
abuse the Carmelites, and pride themselves in their own holiness. Disgusted
with their jealousies and self-sufficiency, the inquirer seeks the
Preachers, or Dominicans; amid their stately buildings, and under their
sleek and well filled skins, he finds the same want of Christian charity:
their pride drives him to the order of St. Austin. The Austin Friars, as
well as the Carmelites, will only instruct him for money, and, shocked at
their covetousness, he continues his wanderings, until at last he meets
with a poor Ploughman, in whom he finds the charity and knowledge after
which he has been seeking. The Ploughman enters into a bitter attack on the
vices of all the four orders of friars: he describes their spirit of
persecution, exemplified in the case of Wycliffe and others, and their
simony; speaks of Wycliffe and Walter Brute as preachers of the truth; and
finishes by teaching the inquirer his simple creed.
The Creed of Piers Ploughman was written by one who approved the opinions
of Wycliffe, and it seems to have been carefully proscribed. There does not
appear to exist any manuscript older than the first printed edition.
The great popularity of the Vision of Piers Ploughman in the fourteenth
century, and its political influence, are proved by another close
imitation, which was composed immediately after the capture, and previous
to the deposition, of king Richard II. This poem also appears to have been
proscribed, and we have only a fragment left, which was printed from an
unique manuscript for the Camden Society. It also is composed in
alliterative verse, and its meaning is rendered obscure by a confused
allegorical style. It was evidently written towards the Welsh Border,
perhaps at Bristol, which is mentioned in the opening lines; and it appears
to have been intended as a continuation of, or as a sequel to, Piers
Ploughman, which it immediately follows in the only manuscript in which it
is preserved.
Another early poem, of which the Ploughman is the hero, was inserted in the
works of Chaucer under the title of the Ploughman's Tale. This, like the
Creed, is free from allegory; and it differs from the others also in being
written in rhyme, and not in alliterative verse. The Ploughman's Tale was
probably written in the earlier half of the fifteenth century.[10] It is a
coarse attack on the different orders of the clergy, for their pride,
covetousness, and other vices. Its versification has little merit; and
there appears to be no good reason for inserting it among the Canterbury
Tales.
The vision of Piers Ploughman appears to have continued to enjoy a wide
popularity down to the middle of the fifteenth century. We hear nothing of
it from that period to the middle of the sixteenth, when it was printed by
the reformers, and received with so much favour, that no less than three
editions, or rather three impressions, are said to have been sold in the
course of one year. Another edition was printed at the beginning of the
reign of Queen Elizabeth; and it appears to have been much read in the
latter part of the sixteenth century, and even at the beginning of the
seventeenth. The name of Piers Ploughman is not uncommon in the political
tracts of that period.[11]
The Poem of Piers Ploughman is peculiarly a national work. It is the most
remarkable monument of the public spirit of our forefathers in the middle,
or, as they are often termed, dark ages. It is a pure specimen of the
English language at a period when it had sustained few of the corruptions
which have disfigured it since we have had writers of "Grammars;" and in it
we may study with advantage many of the difficulties of the language which
these writers have misunderstood. It is, moreover, the finest example left
of the kind of versification which was purely English, inasmuch as it had
been the only one in use among our Anglo-Saxon progenitors, in common with
the other people of the North. To many readers it will be perhaps necessary
to explain that rhyming verse was not in use among the Anglo-Saxons. In
place of rhyme, they had a system of verse of which the characteristic was
a very regular _alliteration_, so arranged that, in every couplet, there
should be two principal words in the first line beginning with the same
letter, which letter must also be the initial of the first word on which
the stress of the voice falls in the second line. There has, as yet, been
discovered no system of foot-measure in Anglo-Saxon verse, but the common
metre consists apparently in having two rises and two falls of the voice in
each line. These characteristics are accurately preserved in the verse of
Piers Ploughman; and the measure appears to be the same, if we make
allowance for the change of the slow and impressive pronunciation of the
Anglo-Saxon for the quicker pronunciation of Middle English, which
therefore required a greater number of syllables to fill up the same space
of time.
We can trace the history of alliterative verse in England with tolerable
certainty. The Anglo-Normans first brought in rhymes, which they employed
in their own poetry. The adoption of this new system into the English
language was gradual, but it appears to have commenced in the first half of
the twelfth century. It was, at first, mixed with alliterative couplets:
that is, in the same poem were used sometimes rhyming couplets, which were
suddenly changed for alliterative couplets, and then, after awhile, rhyme
was again brought in, and so on. Of this kind of poetry we have four very
remarkable examples, the _Proverbs of King Alfred_, a poem which was
certainly in existence in the first half of the twelfth century;[12] the
_Early English Bestiary_;[13] the Poem on the _Debate between the Body and
the Soul_;[14] and the grand work of Layamon.[15] The following lines from
the Bestiary may serve as a specimen of the manner in which the two systems
are intermixed; they form part of the account of the spider:--
"ðanne _r_enneð ge _r_apelike,
for ge is ai _r_edi,
_n_imeð anon to ðe _n_et,
and _n_imeð hem ðere,
_b_itterlike ge hem _b_it
and here _b_ane wurðeð,
_d_repeð and _d_rinkeð hire _blod_,
_d_oð ge hire non oðer _god_,
bute fret hire _fille_,
and dareð siðen _stille_."
. . . . . .
"Cethegrande is a _fis_
ðe moste ðat in water _is_;
ðat tu wuldes seien _get_,
gef ðu it soge wan it _flet_," etc.
This kind of poetry appears to have been common until the middle of the
thirteenth century; after which period we only find alliteration in songs,
not used in simple alliterative couplets, but mixed up in the same lines
with rhyme in an irregular and playful manner.[16] But there appears little
room for doubting that during the whole of this time the pure alliterative
poetry was in use among the lower classes of society; and its revival
towards the middle of the fourteenth century appears to have been a part of
the political movement which then took place. In this point of view, the
poem of Piers Ploughman becomes still more worthy of attention as a
document of contemporary literary history. The old alliterative verse came
so much into fashion at this period that it was adopted for the composition
of long romances, of which several still remain.[17] The use of this kind
of verse was continued in the fifteenth century, and was imitated in
Scotland as late as the time of Dunbar, but the later writers were
evidently unacquainted with the strict rules of this species of
composition.
The Anglo-Saxons, who used this kind of verse only, wrote their poetry
invariably as prose. But the scribe was in the habit of indicating the
division of the lines by a dot. Among modern scholars a question has arisen
as to the propriety of printing the alliterative couplet in two short
lines, or in one long one. It appears to me that the mode in which the dot
is used in the manuscripts decides the question in favour of the short
lines. The manner in which the alliterative couplet is intermixed with the
rhyming couplet in the poems of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries (which
also are written in the manuscripts in the same form as prose), seems to me
a strong confirmation of this opinion; at least in these last-mentioned
cases, the verse must have been considered as written in short lines. As
the scribes quitted the custom of writing poetry in their manuscripts as
prose, with the divisions of lines indicated by dots, to adopt that of
arranging them in lines as we do at present, these short lines were found
very inconvenient because they were obliged either to waste a great deal of
parchment, or to write in several narrow columns. To remedy this, they fell
perhaps gradually into the custom of writing the two parts of the
alliterative couplet in one line, always, however, marking the division by
a dot. They followed the same method with the shorter rhyming lines, as is
the case with the old English Metrical Romance of Horn in a manuscript in
the Harleian Collection.[18] All the alliterative poetry of the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries is found written in these long lines, with the dot
of division in the middle. In the fifteenth century the meaning of this dot
appears to have been forgotten, and the system of alliteration so far
misunderstood, that the writers thought it only necessary to have _at
least_ three alliterative words in a long line, without any consideration
of their position in the line. I say _at least_, because they not
unfrequently inserted four or five alliterative words in the same line,
which would certainly have been considered a defect in the earlier writers.
It is my opinion, that a modern editor is wrong in printing the verses of
Piers Ploughman in long lines, as they stand in the manuscripts, unless he
profess to give them as a fac-simile of the manuscripts themselves, or he
plead the same excuse of convenience from the shape of his book. In either
case, he must carefully preserve the dots of separation in the middle of
the lines, which are more inconvenient than the length of the lines,
because they interfere with the punctuation of the modern editor. If, as
appears to be the case, these dots are merely marks to indicate the
division of the couplet, their purpose is much better served by printing
the lines in couplets. The construction of the earlier Anglo-Saxon verse,
the analogy of the mixed rhyming and alliterative verses of the semi-Saxon
poems, and the use of these dots in the middle of the lines in the
manuscripts of Piers Ploughman, appear to me convincing proofs that it
ought to be printed so. I think moreover that the alliterative verse reads
much more harmoniously in the short couplets than in the long lines.
The manuscripts of the Vision of Piers Ploughman are extremely numerous
both in public and in private collections. There are at least eight in the
British Museum: there are ten or twelve in the Cambridge Libraries; and
they are not less numerous at Oxford. As might be expected in a popular
work like this, the manuscripts are in general full of variations; but
there are two classes of manuscripts which give two texts that are widely
different from each other, those variations commencing even with the first
lines of the poem. One of these texts, which was adopted in the early
printed editions, is given in the present volumes; the other text was
selected for publication by Dr. Whitaker. The following extract, comprising
the first lines of the poem,[19] will show how each text begins, and will
enable those who possess manuscripts of Piers Ploughman to ascertain at
once to which text they belong:--
TEXT I. TEXT II.
In a somer seson In a somè seyson,
Whan softe was the sonne, Whan softe was the sonne,
I shop me into shroudes Y shop into shrobbis
As I a sheep weere, As y shepherde were.
In habite as an heremite In abit az an ermite
Unholy of werkes, Unholy of werkes,
Wente wide in this world That wente forthe in the worle
Wonders to here, Wondres to hure,
Ac on a May morwenynge And sawe meny cellis
On Malverne hilles And selcouthe thynges.
Me bifel a ferly, Ac on a May morwenyng
Of fairye me thoghte. On Malverne hulles
I was wery for-wandred, Me by-fel for to slepe,
And wente me to reste For weyrynesse of wandryng,
Under a broode bank And in a lande as ich lay
By a bournes syde, Lenede ich and slepte,
And as I lay and lenede, And merveylously me mette,
And loked on the watres, As ich may yow telle.
I slombred into a slepyng, Al the welthe of this worlde,
It sweyed so murye. And the woo bothe,
Thanne gan I meten Wynkyng as it were
A merveillous swevene, Wyterly ich saw hyt,
That I was in a wildernesse Of truyth and of tricherye,
Wiste I nevere where; Of tresoun and of gyle,
And as I biheld in to the eest Al ich saw slepyng,
An heigh to the sonne, As ich shal yow telle.
I seigh a tour on a toft, etc. Esteward ich behulde
After the sonne,
And sawe a tour as ich trowede, etc.
Besides such variations as appear in the foregoing specimen, there are in
the second text many considerable additions, omissions, and transpositions.
It would not be easy to account for the existence of two texts differing so
much; but it is my impression that the first was the one published by the
author, and that the variations were made by some other person, who was
perhaps induced by his own political sentiments to modify passages, and was
gradually led on to publish a revision of the whole. It is certain that in
some parts of Text II. the strong sentiments or expressions of the first
text are softened down. We may give as an example of this, the statement of
the popular opinion of the origin and purpose of kingly government:--
TEXT I. TEXT II.
Thanne kam ther a kyng, Thanne cam ther a kyng,
Knyghthod hym ladde, Knyghtod hym ladde,
Might of the communes The meche myghte of the men
Made hym to regne. Made hym to regne.
And thanne cam kynde wit, And thanne cam a kynde witte,
And clerkes he made, And clerkus he made,
For to counseillen the kyng, And concience and kynde wit,
And the commune save. And knyghthod to-gederes,
The kyng and knyghthod, Caste that the comune
And clergie bothe, Sholde hure comunes fynde.
Casten that the commune Kynde wit and the comune
Sholde hem self fynde. Contrevede alle craftes,
The commune contreved And for most profitable to the puple,
Of kynde wit craftes, A plouh thei gonne make,
And for profit of al the peple Wit leil labour to lyve,
Plowmen ordeyned, Wyl lyve and londe lasteth.
To tilie and to travaille,
As trewe lif asketh.
The kyng and the commune,
And kynde wit the thridde,
Shopen lawe and leauté,
Ech man to knowe his owene.
Nobody, I think, can deny that in this instance the doctrine is stated far
more distinctly and far more boldly in the first text than in the second.
In general the first text is the best, whether we look at the mode in which
the sentiments are stated, or at the poetry and language.
As far as I have been able to examine the remaining manuscripts of Piers
Ploughman, at London and in the Universities, I think that nearly
two-thirds of those which remain are of the _fourteenth_ century; and the
greater number, particularly of those written in the fourteenth century,
present what I have distinguished as the first text, that given in the
present volumes. I am by no means inclined to coincide in the reasons which
led Dr. Whitaker to prefer the second text; if I were disposed to admit, as
barely possible (the supposition is quite a gratuitous one), "that the
first edition of this work appeared when its author was a young man, and
that he lived and continued in the habit of transcribing to extreme old
age" (Pref.), I cannot agree with an editor in adopting a copy which he
believes to be "a faithful representation of the work as it came first from
the author," and which not only abounds in words and idioms which he
afterwards altered, but which contains also "many original passages which
the greater maturity of the author's judgment induced him to expunge."
I know only of two manuscripts of the Creed of Piers Ploughman, one in the
British Museum (MS. Reg. 18, B. XVII.), the other in the Library of Trinity
College, Cambridge, both on paper, and written long after the date of the
printed editions, from which they appear to have been copied.
The first printed edition of the Vision was that of Robert Crowley, in
1550; and it was so favourably received, that there is reason for believing
that no less than three editions (or rather three impressions[20]) were
sold in the course of the year. It is clear that Crowley had obtained an
excellent manuscript; the printer has changed the orthography at will, and
has evidently altered a word at times, but on the whole this printed text
differs very little from the one we now publish.
Three years after the appearance of the Vision, another printer, Reynold
Wolfe, published the first edition of the Creed, in the same form as
Crowley's edition of the Vision.[21]
After the stormy reign of Mary was past, in the beginning of that of
Elizabeth, the call for a new edition, and perhaps the destruction of many
copies of the old one, led the well-known printer Owen Rogers to reprint
the Vision and the Creed together.[22] The impression was probably large,
for it is still by no means a rare book. It was evidently much read during
the reign of Elizabeth, and is not unfrequently alluded to by the writers
of that age.
No other edition of this popular poem appeared, until it was published by
Dr. Whitaker, in 1813,[23] from a manuscript then in the possession of Mr.
Heber,[24] which contained the second text, written in a rather broad
provincial dialect. This edition was printed in black-letter, in a very
large and expensive form. In 1814, a reprint of the old edition of the
Creed was published in the same form, as a companion to the Vision. It is
not generally known that Dr. Whitaker projected an edition of the same text
and paraphrase which are given in his 4to edition, in 8vo, with Roman type
instead of black-letter. After a few sheets had been composed, the design
was abandoned, as it is said, in favour of the larger form. A copy of the
proof sheets, formerly belonging to Mr. Haslewood, is now in the possession
of Sir Frederick Madden. I am told that a rival edition was also begun, but
not persevered in.
An attempt at a modernization, or rather a translation, of Piers Ploughman,
was made in the earlier years of the present century, but only a few
specimens appear to have been executed. The following lines, which possess
some merit (though not very literal or correct), are the modern version the
author proposed to give of ll. 2847-2870 of the poem. They were
communicated to me by Sir Henry Ellis.
"Next AVARICE came: but how he look'd, to say,
Words do I want that rightly shall portray:
Like leathern purse his shrivell'd cheeks did shew,
Thick lipp'd, with two blear eyes and beetle brow:
In a torn threadbare tabard was he clad,
Which twelve whole winters now in wear he had;
French scarlet 'twas, its colour well it kept,
So smooth that louse upon its surface crept."
It will be necessary, in conclusion, to say a few words on the edition now
offered to the public. Without taking into consideration the inaccuracies
and imperfections of Whitaker's edition, its inconvenient size and high
price made it altogether inaccessible to the general reader; and there
appeared to be a wish for one in a more convenient and less expensive form.
At the same time it was desired that a good text of a work so important for
the history of our language and literature should be selected. Dr. Whitaker
was not well qualified for this undertaking; he also laboured under many
disadvantages; he had access to only three manuscripts, and those not very
good ones; and he has not chosen the best text even of those. Unless he had
some reason to believe that the book was originally written in a particular
dialect, he ought to have given a preference to that among the oldest
manuscripts which presents the purest language; but we cannot allow that
manuscript to be chosen on a ground so capricious as "that the orthography
and dialect in which it is written approach very near to that semi-Saxon
jargon in the midst of which the editor was brought up, and which he
continues to hear daily spoken on the confines of Lancashire, and the West
Riding of the county of York." (Pref.) This could not have been the
language employed by a monk of Malvern.
The present editor has endeavoured, in the leisure moments which he has
been able to snatch from other employments, to supply the deficiency as
well, and in as unassuming manner, as he could. He has chosen for his text
a manuscript belonging to the valuable library of Trinity College,
Cambridge (where its shelf-mark is B. 15, 17), because it appears to him to
be the best and oldest manuscript now in existence. It is a fine folio
manuscript, on vellum, written in a large hand, undoubtedly contemporary
with the author of the poem, and in remarkably pure English, with
ornamented initial letters. His object has been to give the poem as popular
a form as is consistent with philological correctness. He has added a few
notes which occurred to him in the course of editing the text, and which he
hopes may render the meaning and allusions sometimes clearer to the general
reader, for whom more especially they are intended. They might have been
enlarged and rendered more complete, if he had been master of sufficient
leisure to enable him to undertake extensive researches. But there are
allusions, as well as words, in both poems to which it would be difficult
at present to give any certain explanation. It has been thought advisable
to give in the notes the important variations of the second text, from Dr.
Whitaker's edition; and a few readings are added from a second manuscript
in Trinity College Library (R. 3, 14). The editor has hoped to add to the
utility of the book by a copious glossary. He has been unwillingly obliged
to leave a few words without explanation; all our early alliterative poetry
abounds in difficult words. In this point he has to acknowledge the kind
assistance of Sir Frederick Madden, whom no person equals in profound
knowledge of English glossography, and than whom no one is more generous to
advise and assist those who are in need of his aid. To Sir Henry Ellis, who
kindly lent him his own manuscript notes on Piers Ploughman, the editor
also owes his grateful acknowledgments; and he regrets that at the time he
received them the notes were already so far printed as to hinder him from
making as much use of them as he could have wished.
_London, June 1, 1842._
* * * * *
THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN
* * * * *
{1}
THE VISION OF
PIERS PLOUGHMAN.
In a somer seson, 1
Whan softe was the sonne,
I shoop me into shroudes
As I a sheep weere,
In habite as an heremite
Unholy of werkes,
Wente wide in this world
Wondres to here;
Ac on a May morwenynge
On Malverne hilles 10
Me bifel a ferly,
Of fairye me thoghte.
I was wery for-wandred,
And wente me to reste
Under a brood bank
By a bournes syde;
And as I lay and lenede,
And loked on the watres,
I slombred into a slepyng,
It sweyed so murye. 20
{2}
Thanne gan I meten
A merveillous swevene,
That I was in a wildernesse,
Wiste I nevere where,
And as I biheeld into the eest
An heigh to the sonne,
I seigh a tour on a toft
Trieliche y-maked,
A deep dale bynethe,
A dongeon therinne, 30
With depe diches and derke
And dredfulle of sighte.
A fair feeld ful of folk
Fond I ther bitwene,
Of alle manere of men,
The meene and the riche,
Werchynge and wandrynge,
As the world asketh.
Some putten hem to the plough,
Pleiden ful selde, 40
In settynge and sowynge
Swonken ful harde,
And wonnen that wastours
With glotonye destruyeth.
And somme putten hem to pride,
Apparailed hem therafter,
In contenaunce of clothynge
Comen degised.
In preires and penaunces
Putten hem manye, 50
Al for the love of oure Lord
Lyveden ful streyte,
In hope to have after
Hevene riche blisse;
{3}
As ancres and heremites
That holden hem in hire selles,
And coveiten noght in contree
To carien aboute,
For no likerous liflode
Hire likame to plese. 60
And somme chosen chaffare;
Thei cheveden the bettre,
As it semeth to our sight
That swiche men thryveth.
And somme murthes to make,
As mynstralles konne,
And geten gold with hire glee,
Giltles, I leeve.
Ac japeres and jangeleres,
Judas children, 70
Feynen hem fantasies,
And fooles hem maketh,
And han hire wit at wille
To werken, if thei wolde.
That Poul precheth of hem
I wol nat preve it here;
But _Qui loquitur turpiloquium_
Is Luciferes hyne.
Bidderes and beggeres
Faste aboute yede, 80
With hire belies and hire bagges
Of breed ful y-crammed;
Faiteden for hire foode,
Foughten at the ale.
In glotonye, God woot,
Go thei to bedde,
And risen with ribaudie,
Tho Roberdes knaves;
{4}
Sleep and sory sleuthe
Seweth hem evere. 90
Pilgrymes and palmeres
Plighten hem togidere,
For to seken seint Jame,
And seintes at Rome.
They wenten forth in hire wey,
With many wise tales,
And hadden leve to lyen
Al hire lif after.
I seigh somme that seiden
Thei hadde y-sought seintes; 100
To ech a tale that thei tolde
Hire tonge was tempred to lye,
Moore than to seye sooth,
It semed bi hire speche.
Heremytes on an heep
With hoked staves
Wenten to Walsyngham,
And hire wenches after,
Grete lobies and longe
That lothe were to swynke; 110
Clothed hem in copes,
To ben knowen from othere;
And shopen hem heremytes,
Hire ese to have.
I fond there freres,
Alle the foure ordres,
Prechynge the peple
For profit of hemselve;
Glosed the gospel,
As hem good liked; 120
For coveitise of copes,
Construwed it as thei wolde.
{5}
Many of thise maistre freres
Now clothen hem at likyng,
For hire moneie and hire marchaundize
Marchen togideres.
For sith charité hath ben chapman,
And chief to shryve lordes,
Manye ferlies han fallen
In a fewe yeres; 130
But holy chirche and hii
Holde bettre togidres,
The mooste meschief on molde
Is mountynge wel faste.
Ther preched a pardoner,
As he a preest were;
Broughte forth a bulle
With many bisshopes seles,
And seide that hymself myghte
Assoillen hem alle, 140
Of falshede, of fastynge,
Of avowes y-broken.
Lewed men leved it wel,
And liked hise wordes;
Comen up knelynge
To kissen hise bulles.
He bouched hem with his brevet,
And blered hire eighen,
And raughte with his rageman
Rynges and broches. 150
Thus thei gyven hire gold
Glotons to kepe,
And leveth in swiche losels
As leccherie haunten.
Were the bisshope y-blessed,
And worth bothe hise eris,
{6}
His seel sholde noght be sent
To deceyve the peple.
Ac it is noght by the bisshope
That the boy precheth; 160
For the parisshe preest and the pardoner
Parten the silver,
That the poraille of the parisshe
Sholde have, if thei ne were.
Parsons and parisshe preestes
Pleyned hem to the bisshope,
That hire parisshes weren povere
Sith the pestilence tyme,
To have a licence and leve
At London to dwelle, 170
And syngen ther for symonie;
For silver is swete.
Bisshopes and bachelers,
Bothe maistres and doctours,
That han cure under Crist,
And crownynge in tokene
And signe that thei sholden
Shryven hire parisshens,
Prechen and praye for hem,
And the povere fede, 180
Liggen at Londone
In Lenten and ellis.
Somme serven the kyng,
And his silver tellen
In cheker and in chauncelrie,
Chalangen hise dettes
Of wardes and of wardemotes,
Weyves and streyves.
And somme serven as servauntz
Lordes and ladies, 190
{7}
And in stede of stywardes
Sitten and demen;
Hire messe and hire matyns
And many of hire houres
Arn doon un-devoutliche;
Drede is at the laste,
Lest Crist in consistorie
A-corse ful manye.
I perceyved of the power
That Peter hadde to kepe, 200
To bynden and unbynden,
As the book telleth;
How he it lefte with love,
As oure Lord highte,
Amonges foure vertues,
The beste of alle vertues,
That cardinals ben called,
And closynge yates.
There is Crist in his kingdom
To close and to shette, 210
And to opene it to hem,
And hevene blisse shewe.
Ac of the cardinals at court
That kaughte of that name,
And power presumed in hem
A pope to make,
To han that power that Peter hadde,
Impugnen I nelle;
For in love and in lettrure
The election bilongeth, 220
For-thi I kan and kan naught
Of court speke moore.
Thanne kam ther a kyng,
Knyghthod hym ladde,
{8}
Might of the communes
Made hym to regne.
And thanne cam kynde wit,
And clerkes he made,
For to counseillen the kyng,
And the commune save. 230
The kyng and knyghthod,
And clergie bothe,
Casten that the commune
Sholde hemself fynde.
The commune contreved
Of kynde wit craftes,
And for profit of al the peple
Plowmen ordeyned,
To tilie and to travaille,
As trewe lif asketh. 240
The kyng and the commune,
And kynde wit the thridde,
Shopen lawe and leauté,
Ech man to knowe his owene.
Thanne loked up a lunatik,
A leene thyng with-alle,
And, knelynge to the kyng,
Clergially he seide:
"Crist kepe thee, sire kyng!
And thi kyng-ryche, 250
And lene thee lede thi lond,
So leauté thee lovye,
And for thi rightful rulyng
Be rewarded in hevene."
And sithen in the eyr an heigh
An aungel of hevene
Lowed to speke in Latyn,
For lewed men ne koude
{9}
Jangle ne jugge,
That justifie hem sholde, 260
But suffren and serven;
For-thi seide the aungel:
_Sum rex, sum princeps,
Neutrum fortasse deinceps;
O qui jura regis
Christi specialia regis,
Hoc quod agas melius,
Justus es, esto pius.
Nudum jus a te
Vestiri vult pietate; 270
Qualia vis metere,
Talia grana sere.
Si jus nudatur,
Nudo de jure metatur;
Si seritur pietas,
De pietate metas._
Thanne greved hym a goliardeis,
A gloton of wordes,
And to the aungel an heigh
Answerde after: 280
_Dum rex a regere
Dicatur nomen habere;
Nomen habet sine re,
Nisi studet jura tenere._
Thanne gan al the commune
Crye in vers of Latyn,
To the kynges counseil;
Construe who so wolde:
_Præcepta regis
Sunt nobis vincula legis._ 290
With that ran ther a route
Of ratons at ones,
{10}
And smale mees myd hem
Mo than a thousand,
And comen to a counseil
For the commune profit;
For a cat of a contree
Cam whan hym liked,
And overleep hem lightliche,
And laughte hem at his wille, 300
And pleide with hem perillousli,
And possed aboute.
"For doute of diverse dredes,
We dar noght wel loke;
And if we grucche of his gamen,
He wol greven us alle,
Cracchen us or clawen us,
And in hise clouches holde,
That us lotheth the lif
Er he late us passe. 310
Mighte we with any wit
His wille withstonde,
We mighte be lordes o-lofte,
And lyven at oure ese."
A raton of renoun,
Moost renable of tonge,
Seide for a sovereyn
Help to hymselve:
"I have y-seyen segges," quod he
"In the cité of Londone, 320
Beren beighes ful brighte
Abouten hire nekkes,
And somme colers of crafty werk;
Uncoupled thei wenten
Bothe in wareyne and in waast
Where hemself liked.
{11}
And outher while thei arn ellis-where,
As I here telle;
Were ther a belle on hire beighe,
By Jhesu, as me thynketh, 330
Men myghte witen wher thei wente,
And awey renne!"
"And right so," quod that raton,
"Reson me sheweth,
To bugge a belle of bras,
Or of bright silver,
And knytten it on a coler
For oure commune profit,
Wher he ryt or rest,
Or renneth to pleye; 340
And if hym list for to laike,
Thanne loke we mowen,
And peeren in his presence
The while him pleye liketh:
And, if hym wratheth, be war,
And his way shonye."
Al this route of ratons
To this reson thei assented.
Ac tho the belle was y-brought,
And on the beighe hanged, 350
Ther ne was raton in al the route,
For al the reaume of Fraunce,
That dorste have bounden the belle
About the cattes nekke,
Ne hangen it aboute the cattes hals,
Al Engelond to wynne.
Alle helden hem un-hardy,
And hir counseil feble;
And leten hire labour lost
And al hire longe studie. 360
{12}
A mous that muche good
Kouthe, as me thoughte,
Strook forth sternely,
And stood bifore hem alle,
And to the route of ratons
Reherced thise wordes:
"Though we killen the cat,
Yet sholde ther come another
To cacchen us and al oure kynde,
Though we cropen under benches. 370
For-thi I counseille al the commune
To late the cat worthe;
And be we nevere bolde
The belle hym to shewe;
For I herde my sire seyn,
Is seven yeer y-passed,
Ther the cat is a kitone
The court is ful elenge;
That witnesseth holy writ,
Who so wole it rede: 380
_Væ terræ ubi puer rex est! etc._
For may no renk ther reste have
For ratons by nyghte;
The while he caccheth conynges,
He coveiteth noght youre caroyne,
But fedeth hym al with venyson:
Defame we hym nevere.
For better is a litel los
Than a long sorwe,
The maze among us alle, 390
Theigh we mysse a sherewe;
For many mennes malt
We mees wolde destruye,
And also ye route of ratons
{13}
Rende mennes clothes,
Nere the cat of that court
That can yow over-lepe;
For hadde ye rattes youre wille,
Ye kouthe noght rule yow selve."
"I seye for me," quod the mous, 400
"I se so muchel after,
Shal nevere the cat ne the kiton
By my counseil be greved,
Thorugh carpynge of this coler
That costed me nevere
And though it hadde costned me catel,
Bi-knowen it I nolde,
But suffren, as hymself wolde,
To doon as hym liketh,
Coupled and uncoupled 410
To cacche what thei mowe.
For-thi ech a wis wight I warne,
Wite wel his owene."
What this metels by-meneth,
Ye men that ben murye
Devyne ye, for I ne dar,
By deere God in hevene.
Yet hoved ther an hundred
In howves of selk,
Sergeantz it bi-semed 420
That serveden at the barre,
Pleteden for penyes
And poundes the lawe;
And noght for love of our Lord
Unclose hire lippes ones.
Thow myghtest bettre meete myst
On Malverne hilles,
Than gete a mom of hire mouth,
{14}
Til moneie be shewed.
Barons and burgeises, 430
And bonde-men als,
I seigh in this assemblee,
As ye shul here after:
Baksteres and brewesteres,
And bochiers manye;
Wollen webbesters,
And weveres of lynnen,
Taillours and tynkers,
And tollers in markettes,
Masons and mynours, 440
And many othere craftes.
Of alle kynne lybbynge laborers
Lopen forth somme,
As dikeres and delveres,
That doon hire dedes ille,
And dryveth forth the longe day
With _Dieu save dame Emme_.
Cokes and hire knaves
Cryden, "Hote pies, hote!
Goode gees and grys! 450
Gowe, dyne, gowe!"
Taverners until hem
Trewely tolden the same,
Whit wyn of Oseye,
And reed wyn of Gascoigne,
Of the Ryn and of the Rochel,
The roost to defie.
[Al this I saugh slepynge,
And seve sithes more.] 459
* * * * *
{15}
_Passus Primus de Visione._
What this mountaigne by-meneth 460
And the merke dale,
And the feld ful of folk,
I shal yow faire shewe.
A lovely lady of leere,
In lynnen y-clothed,
Cam doun from a castel
And called me faire,
And seide, "Sone, slepestow?
Sestow this peple,
How bisie thei ben 470
Alle aboute the maze?
The mooste partie of this peple
That passeth on this erthe,
Have thei worship in this world,
Thei wilne no bettre;
Of oother hevene than here
Holde thei no tale."
I was a-fered of hire face,
Theigh she fair weere,
And seide, "Mercy, madame, 480
What is this to meene?"
"The tour on the toft," quod she,
"Truthe is therinne;
{16}
And wolde that ye wroughte,
As his word techeth!
For he is fader of feith,
And formed yow alle
Bothe with fel and with face,
And yaf yow fyve wittes,
For to worshipe hym therwith, 490
While that ye ben here.
And therfore he highte the erthe
To helpe yow echone,
Of wollene, of lynnen,
Of liflode at nede,
In mesurable manere
To make yow at ese;
And comaunded of his curteisie
In commune three thynges,
Are none nedfulle but tho, 500
And nempne hem I thynke,
And rekene hem by reson;
Reherce thow hem after.
"That oon vesture,
From cold thee to save;
And mete at meel
For mysese of thiselve;
And drynke whan thow driest;
Ac do noght out of reson,
That thow worthe the wers 510
Whan thow werche sholdest.
"For Lot in hise lif-dayes,
For likynge of drynke,
Dide by hise doughtres
That the devel liked,
Delited hym in drynke
As the devel wolde,
{17}
And leccherie hym laughte,
And lay by hem bothe,
And al he witte it the wyn 520
That wikked dede.
_Inebriamus eum vino, dormiamusque
cum eo, ut servare possimus de
patre nostro semen._
Thorugh wyn and thorugh wommen
Ther was Loth acombred,
And there gat in glotonie
Gerles that were cherles.
"For-thi dred delitable drynke,
And thow shalt do the bettre. 530
Mesure is medicine,
Though thow muchel yerne.
It is nought al good to the goost
That the gut asketh,
Ne liflode to thi likame;
For a liere hym techeth,
That is the wrecched world
Wolde thee bitraye.
For the fend and thi flesshe
Folwen togidere. 540
This and that seeth thi soule,
And seith it in thin herte;
And for thow sholdest ben y-war,
I wisse thee the beste."
"Madame, mercy!" quod I,
"Me liketh wel youre wordes;
Ac the moneie of this molde
That men so faste holdeth,
Tel me to whom, madame,
That tresour appendeth." 550
"Go to the gospel," quod she,
{18}
"That God seide hymselven;
Tho the poeple hym apposede
With a peny in the temple,
Wheither thei sholde therwith
Worshipe the kyng Cesar.
"And God asked of hym,
Of whom spak the lettre,
And the ymage was lik
That therinne stondeth. 560
"'Cesares,' thei seiden,
'We seen it wel echone.'
"'_Reddite Cæsari_,' quod God,
'That _Cæsari_ bifalleth,
_Et quæ sunt Dei Deo_,'
Or ellis ye don ille;
For rightfully reson
Sholde rule yow alle,
And kynde wit be wardeyn
Youre welthe to kepe, 570
And tutour of youre tresor,
And take it yow at nede,
For housbondrie and hii
Holden togidres."
Thanne I frayned hire faire,
For hym that me made,
"That dongeon in the dale,
That dredful is of sighte,
What may it be to meene,
Madame, I yow biseche?" 580
"That is the castel of Care;
Who so comth therinne
May banne that he born was,
To bodi or to soule.
Therinne wonyeth a wight
{19}
That Wrong is y-hote,
Fader of falshede,
And founded it hymselve.
Adam and Eve
He egged to ille; 590
Counseilled Kaym
To killen his brother;
Judas he japed
With Jewen silver,
And sithen on an eller
Hanged hymselve.
He is lettere of love,
And lieth hem alle
That trusten on his tresour;
Bitrayeth he hem sonnest." 600
Thanne hadde I wonder in my wit
What womman it weere,
That swiche wise wordes
Of holy writ shewed;
And asked hire on the heighe name,
Er she thennes yede,
What she were witterly
That wissed me so faire.
"Holi chirche I am," quod she,
"Thow oughtest me to knowe; 610
I underfeng thee first,
And the feith taughte;
And broughtest me borwes
My biddyng to fulfille,
And to loven me leelly
The while thi lif dureth."
Thanne I courbed on my knees,
And cried hire of grace;
And preide hire pitously
{20}
Preye for my sinnes, 620
And also kenne me kyndely
On Crist to bi-leve,
That I myghte werchen his wille
That wroghte me to man.
"Teche me to no tresor,
But tel me this ilke,
How I may save my soule,
That seint art y-holden."
"Whan alle tresors arn tried," quod she,
"Treuthe is the beste; 630
I do it on _Deus caritas_,
To deme the sothe,
It is as dereworthe a drury
As deere God hymselven.
"Who is trewe of his tonge,
And telleth noon oother,
And dooth the werkes therwith,
And wilneth no man ille,
He is a God by the gospel
A-grounde and o-lofte, 640
And y-lik to oure Lord,
By seint Lukes wordes.
The clerkes that knowen this,
Sholde kennen it aboute,
For cristen and un-cristen
Cleymeth it echone.
"Kynges and knyghtes
Sholde kepen it by reson,
Riden and rappen doun
In reaumes aboute, 650
And taken _transgressores_,
And tyen hem faste,
Til treuthe hadde y-termyned
{21}
Hire trespas to the ende.
And that is profession apertli
That apendeth to knyghtes;
And naught to fasten o friday
In fyve score wynter,
But holden with hym and with here
That wolden alle truthe, 660
And nevere leve hem for love
Ne for lacchynge of silver.
For David in hise dayes
Dubbed knyghtes,
And dide hem sweren on hir swerdes
To serven truthe evere;
And who so passed that point
Was apostata in the ordre.
"But Crist kyngene kyng
Knyghted ten, 670
Cherubyn and seraphyn,
Swiche sevene and othere
And yaf hem myght in his majestee,
The murier hem thoughte,
And over his meene meynee
Made hem archangeles;
Taughte hem by the Trinitee
Treuthe to knowe;
To be buxom at his biddyng,
He bad hem nought ellis. 680
"Lucifer with legions
Lerned it in hevene;
But for he brak buxomnesse
His blisse gan he tyne,
And fel fro that felawshipe
In a fendes liknesse,
Into a deep derk helle,
{22}
To dwelle there for evere;
And mo thousandes myd hym
Than man kouthe nombre 690
Lopen out with Lucifer
In lothliche forme,
For thei leveden upon hym
That lyed in this manere:
_Ponam pedem in aquilone, et similis ero altissimo._ =
"And alle that hoped it myghte be so,
Noon hevene myghte hem holde,
But fellen out in fendes liknesse
Nyne dayes togideres, 700
Til God of his goodnesse
Gan stablisse and stynte,
And garte the hevene to stekie
And stonden in quiete.
"Whan thise wikkede wenten out,
In wonder wise thei fellen;
Somme in the eyr, somme in erthe,
And somme in helle depe;
Ac Lucifer lowest lith
Yet of hem alle, 710
For pride that he putte out,
His peyne hath noon ende.
And alle that werchen with wrong,
Wende thei shulle,
After hir deth day
And dwelle with that sherewe.
"And tho that werche wel,
As holy writ telleth,
And enden as I er seide
In truthe, that is the beste, 720
Mowe be siker that hire soules
{23}
Shul wende to hevene,
Ther treuthe is in trinitee,
And troneth hem alle.
For-thi I seye, as I seyde er,
By sighte of thise textes,
Whan alle tresors arn tried,
Truthe is the beste;
Lereth it thise lewed men,
For lettred men it knoweth, 730
That treuthe is tresor
The trieste on erthe."
"Yet have I no kynde knowyng." quod I,
"Ye mote kenne me bettre,
By what craft in my cors
It comseth, and where."
"Thow doted daffe," quod she,
"Dulle are thi wittes;
To litel Latyn thow lernedest,
Leode, in thi youthe." 740
_Heu michi! quia sterilem duxi vitam juvenilem._ =
"It is a kynde knowyng," quod she,
"That kenneth in thyn herte,
For to loven thi Lord
Levere than thiselve,
No dedly synne to do,
Deye theigh thow sholdest;
This I trowe be truthe.
Who kan teche thee bettre, 750
Loke thow suffre hym to seye,
And sithen lere it after;
For truthe telleth that love
Is triacle of hevene.
May no synne be on hym seene,
{24}
That useth that spice,
And alle hise werkes be wroughte
With love as hym liste;
And lered it Moyses for the leveste thyng,
And moost lik to hevene, 760
And al so the plentee of pees
Moost precious of vertues;
For hevene myghte nat holden it,
It was so hevy of hymself,
Til it hadde of the erthe
Eten his fille.
"And whan it hadde of this fold
Flesshe and blood taken,
Was nevere leef upon lynde
Lighter therafter, 770
And portatif and persaunt
As the point of a nedle,
That myghte noon armure it lette,
Ne none heighe walles.
"For-thi is love ledere
Of the Lordes folk of hevene,
And a meene, as the mair is
Bitwene the kyng and the commune;
Right so is love a ledere,
And the law shapeth, 780
Upon man for hise mysdedes
The mercyment he taxeth.
And for to knowen it kyndely
It comseth by myght,
And in the herte there is the heed
And the heighe welle;
For in kynde knowynge in herte,
Ther a myght bigynneth;
And that falleth to the fader
{25}
That formed us alle, 790
Loked on us with love,
And leet his sone dye
Mekely for oure mysdedes,
To amenden us alle.
And yet wolde he hem no wo
That wroughte hym that peyne,
But mekely with mouthe
Mercy bisoughte,
To have pité of that peple
That peyned hym to dethe. 800
"There myghtow sen ensample
In hymself oone,
That he was myghtful and meke,
And mercy gan graunte
To hem that hengen hym on heigh
And his herte thirled.
"For-thi I rede yow, riche,
Haveth ruthe of the povere;
Though ye be myghtful to mote,
Beeth meke in youre werkes, 810
For the same mesures that ye mete,
Amys outher ellis,
Ye shulle ben weyen therwith
Whan ye wenden hennes.
_Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis, remetietur vobis._ =
"For though ye be trewe of youre tonge
And treweliche wynne,
And as chaste as a child
That in chirche wepeth, 820
But if ye loven leelly
And lene the povere,
Swich good as God yow sent
{26}
Goodliche parteth,
Ye ne have namoore merite
In masse nor in houres,
Than Malkyn of hire maydenhede
That no man desireth.
"For James the gentile
Jugged in hise bokes, 830
That feith withouten the feet
Is right no thyng worthi,
And as deed as a dore-tree,
But if the dedes folwe.
_Fides sine operibus mortua est, etc._
"For-thi chastité withouten charité
Worth cheyned in helle;
It is as lewed as a lampe
That no light is inne.
Manye chapeleyns arn chaste, 840
Ac charité is aweye;
Are no men avarouser than hii
Whan thei ben avaunced,
Unkynde to hire kyn,
And to alle cristene
Chewen hire charité,
And chiden after moore;
Swiche chastité withouten charité
Worth cheyned in helle.
"Manye curatours kepen hem 850
Clene of hire bodies;
Thei ben acombred with coveitise,
Thei konne noght doon it from hem,
So harde hath avarice
Y-hasped hem togideres;
And that is no truthe of the Trinité,
But tricherie of helle,
{27}
And lernynge to lewed men
The latter for to deele.
For-thi thise wordes 860
Ben writen in the gospel,
_Date, et dabitur vobis_,
For I deele yow alle,
And that is the lok of love,
And leteth out my grace,
To conforten the carefulle
A-combred with synne.
"Love is leche of lif,
And next oure Lord selve,
And also the graithe gate 870
That goth into hevene;
For-thi I seye, as I seide
Er by the textes,
Whan alle tresors ben tried,
Treuthe is the beste.
"Now have I told thee what truthe is,
That no tresor is bettre;
I may no lenger lenge thee with,
Now loke thee oure Lorde." 879
* * * * *
{28}
_Passus Secundus de Visione, ut supra._
Yet I courbed on my knees, 880
And cried hire of grace,
And seide, "Mercy, madame,
For Marie love of hevene,
That bar that blisful barn
That boughte us on the rode,
Kenne me by som craft
To knowe the false."
"Loke up on thi left half,
And lo where he stondeth!
Bothe Fals and Favel, 890
And hire feeres manye."
I loked on my left half,
As the lady me taughte,
And was war of a womman
Worthiliche y-clothed,
Purfiled with pelure
The fyneste upon erthe,
Y-corouned with a coroune,
The kyng hath noon bettre;
Fetisliche hire fyngres 900
Were fretted with gold wyr,
And theron rede rubies
As rede as any gleede,
{29}
And diamaundes of derrest pris,
And double manere saphires,
Orientals and ewages,
Envenymes to destroye.
Hire robe was ful riche,
Of reed scarlet engreyned,
With ribanes of reed gold 910
And of riche stones.
Hire array me ravysshed,
Swich richesse saugh I nevere;
I hadde wonder what she was,
And whos wif she were.
"What is this womman," quod I,
"So worthili atired?"
"That is Mede the mayde," quod she,
"Hath noyed me ful ofte,
And y-lakked my lemman 920
That Leautee is hoten,
And bi-lowen hire to lordes
That lawes han to kepe.
"In the popes paleis
She is pryvee as myselve;
But soothnesse wolde noght so,
For she is a bastarde;
For fals was hire fader
That hath a fikel tonge,
And nevere sooth seide 930
Sithen he com to erthe;
And Mede is manered after hym,
Right as kynde asketh
_Qualis pater talis filius.
Bonus arbor bonum fructum facit._
"I oughte ben hyere than she,
I kam of a bettre;
{30}
My fader the grete God is
And ground of alle graces,
So God withouten gynnyng, 940
And I his goode doughter,
And hath yeven me mercy
To marie with myselve,
And what man be merciful
And leelly me love,
Shal be my lord and I his leef
In the heighe hevene.
"And what man taketh Mede,
Myn heed dar I legge,
That he shal lese for hire love 950
A lappe of _caritatis_.
"How construeth David the king
Of men that taketh Mede,
And men of this moolde
That maynteneth truthe,
And how ye shul save yourself,
The sauter bereth witnesse:
_Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo, etc._ =
"And now worth this Mede y-maried 960
Unto a mansed sherewe,
To oon fals fikel tonge,
A fendes biyete;
Favel thorugh his faire speche
Hath this folk enchaunted,
And al is Lieres ledynge,
That she is thus y-wedded.
"To-morwe worth y-maked
The maydenes bridale,
And there myghtow witen, if thow wilt, 970
Whiche thei ben alle
{31}
That longen to that lordshipe,
The lasse and the moore.
Knowe hem there, if thow kanst,
And kepe thow thi tonge,
And lakke hem noght, but lat hem worthe
Till leauté be justice,
And have power to punysshe hem,
Thanne put forth thi reson.
Now I bikenne thee Crist," quod she, 980
"And his clene moder,
And lat no conscience acombre thee
For coveitise of Mede."
Thus lefte me that lady
Liggynge a-slepe;
And how Mede was y-maried
In metels me thoughte,
That al the riche retenaunce
That regneth with the false,
Were boden to the bridale 990
On bothe two sides,
Of alle manere of men
The meene and the riche;
To marien this mayde
Were many men assembled,
As of knyghtes and of clerkes,
And oother commune peple,
As sisours and somonours,
Sherreves and hire clerkes,
Bedelles and baillifs, 1000
And brocours of chaffare,
Forgoers and vitaillers,
And advokettes of the arches;
I kan noght rekene the route
That ran aboute Mede.
{32}
Ac Symonie and Cyvylle,
And sisours of courtes,
Were moost pryvee with Mede
Of any men, me thoughte.
Ac Favel was the firste 1010
That fette hire out of boure,
And as a brocour broughte hire
To be with Fals enjoyned.
Whan Symonye and Cyvylle
Seighe hir bothe wille,
Thei assented, for silver,
To seye as bothe wolde.
Thanne leep Liere forth, and seide,
"Lo here a chartre!"
That Gile with hise grete othes 1020
Gaf hem togidere,
And preide Cyvylle to see,
And Symonye to rede it.
Thanne Symonye and Cyvylle
Stonden forth bothe,
And unfoldeth the feffement
That Fals hath y-maked,
And thus bigynnen thise gomes
To greden ful heighe:
_Sciant præsentes et futuri, etc._ 1030
Witeth and witnesseth,
That wonieth upon this erthe,
That Mede is y-maried
Moore for hire goodes
Than for any vertue or fairnesse,
Or any free kynde.
Falsnesse is fayn of hire,
For he woot hire riche;
And Favel with his fikel speche
{33}
Feffeth by this chartre, 1040
To be princes in pride
And poverte to despise,
To bakbite and to bosten,
And bere fals witnesse,
To scorne and to scolde,
And sclaundre to make,
Unbuxome and bolde
To breke the ten hestes.
And the erldom of Envye
And Wrathe togideres, 1050
With the chastilet of Cheste,
And Chaterynge out of reson.
The countee of Coveitise,
And alle the costes aboute,
That is Usure and Avarice,
Al I hem graunte,
In bargaynes and in brocages,
With al the burghe of Thefte,
And al the lordshipe of Leccherie
In lengthe and in brede, 1060
As in werkes and in wordes,
And in waitynges with eighes,
And in wedes and in wisshynges,
And with ydel thoughtes,
There as wil wolde
And werkmanshipe fayleth.
Glotonye he gaf hem ek,
And grete othes togidere,
And al day to drynken
At diverse tavernes, 1070
And there to jangle and jape,
And jugge hir even cristen;
And in fastynge dayes to frete
{34}
Er ful tyme were,
And thanne to sitten and soupen
Til sleep hem assaille;
And breden as burghe swyn,
And bedden hem esily,
Til sleuthe and sleep
Sliken hise sydes, 1080
And thanne wanhope to awaken hem so
With no wil to amende,
For he leveth be lost,
This is hir laste ende.
And thei to have and to holde,
And hire heires after,
A dwellynge with the devel,
And dampned be for evere,
With alle the appurtinaunces of purgatorie =
Into the pyne of helle. 1091
Yeldynge for this thyng,
At one dayes tyme,
Hire soules to Sathan,
To suffre with hym peynes,
And with hym to wonye with wo
While God is in hevene.
In witnesse of which thyng,
Wrong was the firste,
And Piers the pardoner 1100
Of Paulynes doctrine,
Bette the bedel
Of Bokyngham shire,
Reynald the reve
Of Rutland sokene,
Maude the millere,
And many mo othere.
{35}
In the date of the devel
This dede I ensele,
By sighte of Sire Symonie 1110
And Cyvyles leeve.
Thanne tened hym Theologie,
Whan he this tale herde;
And seide unto Cyvyle,
"Now sorwe mote thow have,
Swiche weddynges to werche,
To wrathe with truthe;
And er this weddynge be wroght,
Wo thee bitide!
"For Mede is muliere 1120
Of Amendes engendred,
And God graunteth to gyve
Mede to Truthe;
And thow hast gyven hire to a gilour;
Now God gyve thee sorwe!
Thi text telleth thee noght so,
Truthe woot the sothe;
For _Dignus est operarius_
His hire to have,
And thow hast fest hire to Fals, 1130
Fy on thi lawe!
For al bi lesynges thow lyvest
And lecherouse werkes.
Symonye and thiself
Shenden holi chirche;
The notaries and ye
Noyen the peple;
Ye shul a-biggen it bothe,
By God that me made!
"Wel ye witen, wernardes, 1140
But if youre wit faille,
{36}
That Fals is feithlees
And fikel in hise werkes,
And was a bastarde y-bore
Of Belsabubbes kynne;
And Mede is muliere,
A maiden of goode,
And myghte kisse the kyng
For cosyn, and she wolde.
"For-thi wercheth by wisdom, 1150
And by wit also;
And ledeth hire to Londone,
There it is y-shewed,
If any lawe wol loke
Thei ligge togideres;
And though justices juggen hire
To be joyned to Fals,
Yet be war of weddynge;
For witty is Truthe,
And Conscience is of his counseil, 1160
And knoweth yow echone,
And if he fynde yow in defaute
And with the false holde,
It shal bi-sitte youre soules
Ful soure at the laste."
Herto assenteth Cyvyle,
Ac Symonye ne wolde,
Til he hadde silver for his service,
And also the notaries.
Thanne fette Favel forth 1170
Floryns ynowe,
And bad Gile to gyven
Gold al aboute,
And namely to the notaries
That hem noon ne faille,
{37}
And feffe false witnesses
With floryns ynowe,
"For thei may Mede a-maistrye,
And maken at my wille."
Tho this gold was y-gyve, 1180
Gret was the thonkyng
To Fals and to Favel
For hire faire giftes,
And comen to conforten
From care the false,
And seiden, "Certes, sire,
Cessen shul we nevere,
Til Mede be thi wedded wif
Thorugh wittes of us alle;
For we have Mede a-maistried 1190
With oure murie speche,
That she graunteth to goon,
With a good wille,
To London, to loken
If the lawe wolde
Juggen yow joyntly
In joie for evere."
Thanne was Falsnesse fayn,
And Favel as blithe,
And leten somone alle segges 1200
In shires aboute,
And bad hem alle be bown,
Beggers and othere,
To wenden with hem to Westmynstre
To witnesse this dede.
Ac thanne cared thei for caples
To carien hem thider,
And Favel fette forth thanne
Foles ynowe,
{38}
And sette Mede upon a sherreve 1210
Shoed al newe.
And Fals sat on a sisour,
That softeli trotted;
And Favel on a flaterere
Fetisly atired.
Tho hadde notaries none,
Anoyed thei were,
For Symonye and Cyvylle
Sholde on hire feet gange.
Ac thanne swoor Symonye, 1220
And Cyvylle bothe,
That somonours sholde be sadeled
And serven hem echone,
And late apparaille thise provisours
In palfreyes wise,
Sire Symonye hymself
Shal sitte upon hir bakkes.
"Denes and southdenes,
Drawe yow togideres,
Erchdekenes and officials, 1230
And alle youre registrers,
Lat sadle hem with silver
Oure synne to suffre,
As avoutrye and divorses,
And derne usurie,
To bere bisshopes aboute
A-brood in visitynge.
"Paulynes pryvees
For pleintes in consistorie,
Shul serven myself 1240
That Cyvyle is nempned.
"And cart-sadle the commissarie,
Oure cart shal he lede,
{39}
And fecchen us vitailles.
At _Fornicatores_.
And maketh of Lyere a lang cart
To leden alle thise othere,
As freres and faitours,
That on hire feet rennen."
And thus Fals and Favel 1250
Fareth forth togideres,
And Mede in the middes,
And alle thise men after.
I have no tome to telle
The tail that hire folwed;
Ac Gyle was for-goer,
And gyed hem alle.
Sothnesse seigh hem wel,
And seide but litel,
And priked his palfrey, 1260
And passed hem alle,
And com to the kynges court,
And Conscience it tolde;
And Conscience to the kyng
Carped it after.
"Now, by Crist," quod the kyng,
"And I cacche myghte
Fals or Favel,
Or any of hise feeris,
I wolde be wroken of tho wrecches 1270
That wercheth so ille,
And doon hem hange by the hals,
And alle that hem maynteneth;
Shal nevere man of this molde
Meynprise the leeste,
But right as the lawe wol loke,
Lat falle on hem alle."
{40}
And comaunded a constable
That com at the firste,
To attachen tho tyrauntz, 1280
"For any thyng I hote,
And fettreth faste Falsnesse,
For any kynnes giftes,
And girdeth of Gyles heed,
And lat hym go no ferther;
And if ye lacche Lyere,
Lat hym noght ascapen
Er he be put on the pillory,
For any preyere, I hote;
And bryngeth Mede to me 1290
Maugree hem alle."
Drede at the dore stood,
And the doom herde,
And how the kyng comaunded
Constables and sergeauntz
Falsnesse and his felawshipe
To fettren and to bynden.
Thanne Drede wente wyghtliche,
And warned the False,
And bad hym fle for fere, 1300
And hise felawes alle.
Falsnesse for fere thanne
Fleigh to the ffreres,
And Gyle dooth hym to go,
A-gast for to dye;
Ac marchauntz metten with hym
And made hym abide,
And bi-shetten hym in hire shoppes
To shewen hire ware,
Apparailed hym as apprentice 1310
The peple to serve.
{41}
Lightliche Lyere
Leep awey thanne,
Lurkynge thorugh lanes,
To-lugged of manye.
He was nowher welcome,
For his manye tales,
Over al y-honted,
And y-hote trusse,
Til pardoners hadde pité, 1320
And pulled hym into house.
They wesshen hym and wiped hym.
And wounden hym in cloutes,
And senten hym with seles
On Sondayes to chirches,
And yeven pardoun for pens
Pounde-mele aboute.
Thanne lourede leches,
And lettres thei sente,
That he sholde wonye with hem 1330
Watres to loke.
Spycers speken with hym,
To spien hire ware;
For he kouthe of hir craft,
And knewe manye gommes.
And mynstrales and messagers
Mette with hym ones,
And helden hym an half-yeer
And ellevene dayes.
Freres with fair speche 1340
Fetten hym pennes,
And for knowynge of comeres
Coped hym as a frere;
Ac he hath leve to lepen out,
As ofte as hym liketh,
{42}
And is welcome whan he wile,
And woneth with hem ofte.
Alle fledden for fere,
And flowen into hernes;
Save Mede the mayde, 1350
Na-mo dorste abide.
Ac trewely to telle,
She trembled for drede,
And ek wepte and wrong,
Whan she was attached. 1355
* * * * *
{43}
_Passus Tertius de Visione, ut supra._
Now is Mede the mayde, 1356
And na-mo of hem alle,
With bedeles and with baillies
Brought bifore the kyng.
The kyng called a clerk, 1360
Kan I noght his name,
To take Mede the maide
And maken hire at ese.
"I shal assayen hire myself,
And soothliche appose,
What man of this moolde
That hire were levest.
And if she werche bi wit,
And my wil folwe,
I wol forgyven hire this gilt, 1370
So me God helpe!"
Curteisly the clerk thanne,
As the kyng highte,
Took Mede bi the myddel
And broghte hire into chambre;
And ther was murthe and mynstralcie,
Mede to plese.
They that wonyeth in Westmynstre =
Worshipeth hire alle, 1380
{44}
Gentilliche with joye;
The justices somme
Busked hem to the bour
Ther the burde dwellede,
To conforten hire kyndely,
By clergies leve;
And seiden, "Mourne noght, Mede,
Ne make thow no sorwe;
For we wol wisse the kyng,
And thi wey shape, 1390
To be wedded at thi wille,
And wher thee leef liketh,
For al Consciences cast
Or craft, as I trowe."
Mildely Mede thanne
Merciede hem alle
Of hire grete goodnesse,
And gaf hem echone
Coupes of clene gold,
And coppes of silver, 1400
Rynges with rubies,
And richesses manye;
The leeste man of hire meynee
A moton of golde.
Than laughte thei leve
Thise lordes at Mede.
With that comen clerkes
To conforten hire the same,
And beden hire be blithe;
"For we beth thyne owene, 1410
For to werche thi wille,
The while thow myght laste."
Hendiliche heo thanne
Bi-highte hem the same,
{45}
To loven hem lelly,
And lordes to make,
And in the consistorie at the court
Do callen hire names;
"Shal no lewednesse lette
The leode that I lovye, 1420
That he ne worth first avaunced;
For I am bi-knowen,
There konnynge clerkes
Shul clokke bi-hynde."
Thanne cam ther a confessour,
Coped as a frere;
To Mede the mayde
He meved thise wordes,
And seide ful softely,
In shrift as it were, 1430
"Theigh lewed men and lered men
Hadde leyen by thee bothe,
And Falsnesse hadde y-folwed thee
Alle thise fifty wynter,
I shal assoille thee myself
For a seem of whete,
And also be thi bedeman,
And bere wel thi message
Amonges knyghtes and clerkes,
Conscience to torne." 1440
Thanne Mede for hire mysdedes
To that man kneled,
And shrof hire of hire sherewednesse,
Shamelees, I trowe;
Tolde hym a tale,
And took hym a noble,
For to ben hire bedeman
And hire brocour als.
{46}
Thanne he assoiled hire soone,
And sithen he seide, 1450
"We have a wyndow in werchynge
Wole sitten us ful hye,
Woldestow glaze that gable
And grave therinne thy name,
Syker sholde thi soule be
Hevene to have."
"Wiste I that," quod that womman,
"I wolde noght spare
For to be youre frend, frere,
And faile yow nevere, 1460
While ye love lordes
That lecherie haunten,
And lakketh noght ladies
That loven wel the same.
It is freletee of flesshe,
Ye fynden it in bokes,
And a cours of kynde
Wherof we comen alle.
Who may scape sclaundre,
The scathe is soone amended; 1470
It is synne of the sevene
Sonnest relessed.
"Have mercy," quod Mede,
"Of men that it haunteth,
And I shal covere youre kirk,
Youre cloistre do maken,
Wowes do whiten,
And wyndowes glazen,
Do peynten and portraye,
And paie for the makynge, 1480
That every segge shal seye
I am suster of youre house."
{47}
Ac God to alle good folk
Swich gravynge defendeth,
To writen in wyndowes
Of hir wel dedes,
An aventure pride be peynted there,
And pomp of the world;
For Crist knoweth thi conscience,
And thi kynde wille, 1490
And thi cost and thi coveitise,
And who the catel oughte.
For-thi I lere yow, lordes,
Leveth swiche werkes;
To writen in wyndowes
Of youre wel dedes,
Or to greden after Goddes men
Whan ye dele doles,
On aventure ye have youre hire here,
And youre hevene als. 1500
_Nesciat sinistra quid faciat dextra._
Lat noght thi left half
Late ne rathe
Wite what thow werchest
With thi right syde;
For thus by the gospel
Goode men doon hir almesse.
Maires and maceres,
That menes ben bitwene
The kyng and the comune 1510
To kepe the lawes,
To punysshe on pillories
And pynynge-stooles,
Brewesters and baksters,
Bochiers and cokes,
For thise are men on this molde
{48}
That moost harm wercheth
To the povere peple
That percel-mele buggen;
For thei enpoisone the peple 1520
Pryveliche and ofte,
Thei richen thorugh regratrie,
And rentes hem biggen,
With that the povere peple
Sholde putte in hire wombe.
For toke thei on trewely,
Thei tymbred nought so heighe,
Ne boughte none burgages,
Be ye ful certeyne.
Ac Mede the mayde 1530
The mair hath bi-sought
Of alle swiche selleris
Silver to take,
Or presentz withouten pens,
As pieces of silver,
Rynges or oother richesse,
The regratiers to mayntene;
"For my love," quod that lady,
"Love hem echone,
And suffre hem to selle 1540
Som del ayeins reson."
Salomon the sage
A sermon he made,
For to amenden maires
And men that kepen lawes;
And tolde hem this teme,
That I telle thynke,
_Ignis devorabit tabernacula eorum
qui libenter accipiunt munera,
etc._ 1550
{49}
Among thise lettrede leodes
This Latyn is to mene,
That fir shal falle and brenne
Al to bloo askes
The houses and homes
Of hem that desireth
Yiftes or yeres-yeves
By cause of hire offices.
The kyng fro the conseil cam,
And called after Mede, 1560
And of sente hire as swithe
With sergeauntz manye,
And broughte hire to boure
With blisse and with joye.
Curteisly the kyng thanne
Comsed to telle,
To Mede the mayde
He meveth thise wordes,
"Unwittily, womman,
Wroght hastow ofte, 1570
Ac worse wroghtestow nevere
Than tho thow Fals toke.
But I forgyve thee that gilt,
And graunte thee my grace;
Hennes to thi deeth day
Do so na-moore.
"I have a knyght Conscience,
Cam late fro biyonde;
If he wilneth thee to wif,
Wiltow hym have?" 1580
"Ye, lord," quod that lady,
"Lord forbede it ellis!
But I be holly at youre heste,
Lat hange me soone."
{50}
And thanne was Conscience called
To come and appere
Bifore the kyng and his conseil,
As clerkes and othere.
Knelynge Conscience
To the kyng louted, 1590
To wite what his wille were,
And what he do wolde.
"Woltow wedde this womman," quod the kyng,
"If I wole assente?
For she is fayn of thi felaweshipe,
For to be thi make."
Quod Conscience to the kyng,
"Crist it me forbede!
Er I wedde swich a wif,
Wo me bitide! 1600
For she is frele of hire feith,
Fikel of hire speche,
And maketh men mysdo
Many score tymes;
Trust of hire tresor
Bitrayeth ful manye.
"Wyves and widewes
Wantonnes she techeth,
And lereth hem lecherie
That loveth hire giftes. 1610
Youre fader she felled
Thorugh false biheste,
And hath enpoisoned popes,
And peired holy chirche.
Is noght a bettre baude,
By hym that me made!
Bitwene hevene and helle,
In erthe though men soughte.
{51}
For she is tikel of hire tail,
And tale-wis of hire tonge; 1620
As commune as a cartwey
To ech a knave that walketh,
To monkes, to mynstrales,
To meseles in hegges.
"Sisours and somonours,
Swiche men hire preiseth;
Sherreves of shires
Were shent if she ne were;
For she dooth men lese hire lond
And hire lif bothe; 1630
She leteth passe prisoners,
And paieth for hem ofte,
And gyveth the gailers gold
And grotes togidres,
To unfettre the fals
Fle where hym liketh;
And taketh the trewe bi the top
And tieth hem faste,
And hangeth hem for hatrede
That harm dide nevere. 1640
"To be corsed in consistorie
She counteth noght a bene;
For she copeth the commissarie,
And coteth hise clerkes.
She is assoiled as soone
As hireself liketh;
And may neigh as muche do
In a monthe one,
As youre secret seel
In sixe score dayes. 1650
For she is pryvee with the pope,
Provisours it knoweth;
{52}
For sire Symonie and hirselve
Seleth hire bulles.
"She blesseth thise bisshopes,
Theigh thei be lewed;
Provendreth persones,
And preestes maynteneth,
To have lemmans and lotebies
Alle hire lif daies, 1660
And bryngeth forth barnes
Ayein forbode lawes.
Ther she is wel with the kyng,
Wo is the reaume;
For she is favourable to fals,
And de-fouleth truthe ofte.
"By Jhesus! with hire jeweles
Youre justices she shendeth,
And lith ayein the lawe,
And letteth hym the gate, 1670
That feith may noght have his forth,
Hire floryns go so thikke.
She ledeth the lawe as hire list,
And love-daies maketh,
And doth men lese thorugh hire love,
That lawe myghte wynne
The maze for a mene man,
Though he mote hire evere.
Lawe is so lordlich
And looth to maken ende, 1680
Withouten presentz or pens
She pleseth wel fewe.
"Barons and burgeises
She bryngeth in sorwe,
And al the comune in care
That coveiten lyve in truthe;
{53}
For clergie and coveitise
She coupleth togidres.
This is the lif of that lady;
Now Lord gyve hire sorwe! 1690
And alle that maynteneth hire men,
Meschaunce hem bitide!
For povere men may have no power
To pleyne hem, though thei smerte.
Swich a maister is Mede
Among men of goode."
Thanne mournede Mede,
And mened hire to the kynge
To have space to speke,
Spede if she myghte. 1700
The kyng graunted hire grace,
With a good wille,
"Excuse thee, if thow kanst;
I kan na-moore seggen.
For Conscience accuseth thee,
To congeien thee for evere."
"Nay, lord," quod that lady,
"Leveth hym the werse,
Whan ye witen witterly
Wher the wrong liggeth. 1710
Ther that meschief is gret,
Mede may helpe.
And thow knowest, Conscience,
I kam noght to chide
Ne deprave thi persone,
With a proud herte.
Wel thow woost, wernarde,
But if thow wolt gabbe,
Thow hast hanged on myn half
Ellevene tymes, 1720
{54}
And also griped my gold,
Gyve it where thee liked;
And whi thow wrathest thee now,
Wonder me thynketh.
Yet I may as I myghte
Menske thee with giftes,
And mayntene thi manhode
Moore than thow knowest.
"Ac thow hast famed me foule
Bifore the kyng here; 1730
For killed I nevere no kyng
Ne counseiled therafter,
Ne dide as thow demest
I do it on the kynge.
"In Normandie was he noght
Noyed for my sake;
Ac thow thiself soothly
Shamedest hym ofte,
Crope into a cabane
For cold of thi nayles, 1740
Wendest that wynter
Wolde han y-lasted evere,
And dreddest to be ded
For a dym cloude,
And hyedest homward
For hunger of thi wombe.
"Withouten pité, pilour,
Povere men thow robbedest;
And bere hire bras at thi bak
To Caleis to selle, 1750
Ther I lafte with my lord,
His lif for to save.
I made his men murye,
And mournynge lette;
{55}
I batred hem on the bak,
And boldede hire hertes,
And dide hem hoppe for hope
To have me at wille.
Hadde I ben marchal of his men,
By Marie of hevene! 1760
I dorste have leyd my lif,
And no lasse wedde,
He sholde have be lord of that lond
In lengthe and in brede,
And also kyng of that kith
His kyn for to helpe,
The leeste brol of his blood
A barones piere.
"Cowardly thow, Conscience,
Conseiledest hym thennes, 1770
To leven his lordshipe
For a litel silver,
That is the richeste reaume
That reyn over-hoveth.
"It bi-cometh to a kyng
That kepeth a reaume,
To yeve mede to men,
That mekely hym serveth,
To aliens and to alle men,
To honouren hem with giftes; 1780
Mede maketh hym bi-loved
And for a man holden.
"Emperours and erles,
And alle manere lordes,
For giftes han yonge men
To renne and to ryde.
"The pope and alle the prelates
Presentz underfongen,
{56}
And medeth men hemselven
To mayntene hir lawes. 1790
"Sergeauntz for hire servyce,
We seeth wel the sothe,
Taken mede of hir maistres,
As thei mowe acorde.
"Beggeres for hir biddynge,
Bidden men mede.
"Mynstrales for hir myrthe,
Mede thei aske.
"The kyng hath mede of his men,
To make pees in londe. 1800
"Men that teche children,
Craven after mede.
"Preestes that prechen the peple
To goode, asken mede,
And massepens and hire mete
At the meel-tymes.
"Alle kynne craftes men
Craven mede for hir prentices.
"Marchauntz and Mede
Mote nede go togideres. 1810
No wight, as I wene,
Withouten mede may libbe."
Quod the kyng to Conscience,
"By Crist! as me thynketh,
Mede is well worthi
The maistrie to have."
"Nay," quod Conscience to the kyng,
And kneled to the erthe,
"Ther are two manere of medes,
My lord, with youre leve. 1820
"That oon God of his grace
Graunteth in his blisse
{57}
To tho that wel werchen,
While thei ben here;
The prophete precheth therof,
And putte it in the Sauter,
_Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo?_ =
"Lord, who shal wonye in thi wones,
And with thyne holy seintes, 1830
Or resten in thyne holy hilles?
This asketh David;
And David assoileth it hymself,
As the Sauter telleth.
_Qui ingreditur sine macula et operatur justitiam._ =
"Tho that entren of o colour,
And of one wille,
And han y-wroght werkes
With right and with reson; 1840
And he that useth noght
The lyf of usurie,
And enformeth povere men,
And pursueth truthe.
_Qui pecuniam suam non dedit ad
usuram, et munera super innoc. etc._ =
"And alle that helpen the innocent,
And holden with the rightfulle,
Withouten mede doth hem good, 1850
And the truthe helpeth,
Swiche manere men, my lord,
Shul have this firste mede
Of God at a gret nede,
Whan thei gon hennes.
"Ther is another mede mesurelees,
{58}
That maistres desireth,
To mayntene mysdoers
Mede thei take,
And therof seith the Sauter 1860
In a salmes ende,
_In quorum manibus iniquitates
sunt, dextra eorum repleta est
muneribus._
"And he that gripeth hir gold,
So me God helpe!
Shal abien it bittre,
Or the book lieth.
"Preestes and persons
That plesynge desireth, 1870
That taken mede and moneie
For masses that thei syngeth,
Taken hire mede here,
As Mathew us techeth.
_Amen, Amen, recipiebant mercede suam._ =
"That laborers and lowe folk
Taken of hire maistres,
It is no manere mede,
But a mesurable hire. 1880
"In marchaundise is no mede,
I may it wel avowe,
It is a permutacion apertly,
A penyworth for another.
"Ac reddestow nevere _Regum_?
Thow recrayed Mede,
Whi the vengeaunce fel
On Saul and on his children?
God sente to Saul
By Samuel the prophete, 1890
{59}
That Agag of Amalec,
And al his peple after,
Sholden deye for a dede
That doon hadde hire eldres.
"For-thi seide Samuel to Saul,
'God hymself hoteth
Thee be buxom at his biddynge,
His wil to fulfille;
Weend to Amalec with thyn oost,
And what thow fyndest there sle it, 1900
Burnes and beestes
Bren hem to dethe,
Widwes and wyves,
Wommen and children,
Moebles and un-moebles,
And al thow myght fynde,
Bren it, bere it noght awey,
Be it never so riche,
For mede ne for monee,
Loke thow destruye it, 1910
Spille it and spare it noght,
Thow shalt spede the bettre.'
"And for he coveited hir catel,
And the kyng spared,
Forbar hym and his beestes bothe,
As the Bible witnesseth,
Oother wise than he was
Warned of the prophete,
God seide to Samuel
That Saul sholde deye, 1920
And al his seed for that synne
Shenfulliche ende.
Swich a meschief Mede made
Saul the kyng to have,
{60}
That God hated hym for evere,
And alle hise heires after.
"The culorum of this cas
Kepe I noght to telle,
On aventure it noyed men,
Noon ende wol I make, 1930
For so is this world went
With hem that han power,
That who so seith hem sothest
Is sonnest y-blamed.
"Conscience knowe this,
For kynde wit it me taughte,
That Reson shal regne
And reaumes governe,
And right as Agag hadde,
Happe shul somme, 1940
Samuel shal sleen hym,
And Saul shal be blamed,
And David shal be diademed,
And daunten hem alle;
And oon cristene kyng
Kepen hem alle.
Shal na-moore Mede
Be maister, as she is nouthe;
Ac love and lowenesse
And leautee togideres, 1950
Thise shul ben maistres on moolde,
Truthe to save.
"And who so trespaseth ayein truthe,
Or taketh ayein his wille,
Leauté shal don hym lawe,
And no lif ellis;
Shall no sergeaunt for his service
Were a silk howve,
{61}
Ne no pelure in his cloke
For pledynge at the barre. 1960
Mede of mysdoeres
Maketh manye lordes,
And over lordes lawes
Ruleth the reaumes.
"Ac kynde love shal come yit,
And conscience togideres,
And make of lawe a laborer;
Swich love shal arise,
And swich a pees among the peple,
And a perfit truthe, 1970
That Jewes shul wene in hire wit,
And wexen wonder glade,
That Moyses or Messie
Be come into this erthe,
And have wonder in hire hertes
That men beth so trewe.
"Alle that beren baselarde,
Brood swerd or launce,
Ax outher hachet,
Or any wepene ellis, 1980
Shal be demed to the deeth,
But if he do it smythye
Into sikel or to sithe,
To shaar or to kultour;
_Conflabunt gladios suos in vomeres, etc._ =
"Ech man to pleye with a plow,
Pykoise or spade,
Spynne or sprede donge,
Or spille hymself with sleuthe. 1990
"Preestes and persons
With _Placebo_ to hunte,
{62}
And dyngen upon David
Eche day til eve.
Huntynge or haukynge
If any of hem use,
His boost of his benefice
Worth by-nomen hym after.
Shal neither kyng ne knyght,
Constable ne meire, 2000
Overlede the commune,
Ne to the court sompne,
Ne putte hem in panel
To doon hem plighte hir truthe;
But after the dede that is doon
Oon doom shal rewarde,
Mercy or no mercy,
As truthe wole acorde.
"Kynges court and commune court,
Consistorie and chapitle, 2010
Al shal be but oon court,
And oon baron be justice.
Thanne worth Trewe-tonge a tidy man
That tened me nevere;
Batailles shul none be,
Ne no man bere wepene;
And what smyth that any smytheth,
Be smyte therwith to dethe.
_Non levabit gens contra gentem
gladium, etc._ 2020
"And er this fortune falle,
Fynde men shul the worste,
By sixe sonnes and a shipe,
And half a shef of arwes,
And the myddel of a moone,
Shal make the Jewes to torne,
{63}
And Sarzynes for that sighte
Shul synge _Gloria in excelsis, etc._
For Makometh and Mede
Mys-happe shul that tyme, 2030
For _melius est bonum nomen quam divitiæ multæ._" =
Al so wroth as the wynd
Weex Mede in a while,
"I kan no Latyn," quod she,
"Clerkes wite the sothe;
Se what Salomon seith
In Sapience bokes,
That thei that gyven giftes
The victorie wynneth, 2040
And moost worshipe hadde therwith
As holy writ telleth:
_Honorem adquiret qui dat munera, etc._ =
"Leve wel, lady," quod Conscience,
"That thi Latyn be trewe;
Ac thow art lik a lady
That radde a lesson ones,
Was _omnia probate_,
And that plesed hire herte; 2050
For that lyne was no lenger
At the leves ende.
Hadde she loked that oother half,
And the leef torned,
She sholde have founden fele wordes
Folwynge therafter,
_Quod bonum est tenete_;
Truthe that text made.
And so ferde ye, madame,
Ye kouthe na-moore fynde, 2060
{64}
Tho ye loked on Sapience
Sittynge in youre studie.
This text that ye han told
Were good for lordes;
Ac yow fayled a konnynge clerk
That kouthe the leef han torned.
And if ye seche Sapience eft,
Fynde shul ye that folweth,
A ful teneful text
To hem that taketh mede; 2070
And that is _animam autem aufert accipientium, etc._, =
And that is the tail of the text;
Of that that she shewed,
That theigh we wynne worshipe,
And with mede have victorie,
The soule that the sonde taketh
By so muche is bounde." 2078
* * * * *
{65}
_Passus Quartus de Visione, ut supra._
"Cesseth," seith the kyng, 2079
"I suffre yow no lenger;
Ye shul saughtne for sothe,
And serve me bothe.
Kis hire," quod the kyng,
"Conscience, I hote."
"Nay, by Crist!" quod Conscience,
"Congeye me er for evere,
But Reson rede me therto,
Rather wol I deye."
"And I comaunde thee," quod the kyng,
To Conscience thanne, 2090
"Rape thee to ryde,
And Reson thow fecche;
Comaunde hym that he come
My counseil to here,
For he shal rule my reaume
And rede me the beste,
And acounte with thee, Conscience,
So me Crist helpe!
How thow lernest the peple,
The lered and the lewed." 2100
"I am fayn of that foreward,"
Seide the freke thanne,
{66}
And ryt right to Reson,
And rouneth in his ere,
And seide as the kyng bad,
And sithen took his leve.
"I shal arraye me to ryde," quod Reson,
"Reste thee a while."
And called Caton his knave,
Curteis of speche, 2110
And also Tomme Trewe-tonge,--
"Tel me no tales,
Ne lesynge to laughen of,
For I loved hem nevere;
And set my sadel upon Suffre,
Til I se my tyme,
And lat warroke hym wel
With witty-wordes gerthes,
And hange on hym the hevy brydel
To holde his heed lowe, 2120
For he wol make 'wehee!'
Twies er he be there."
Thanne Conscience upon his capul
Carieth forth faste,
And Reson with hym ryt,
Rownynge togideres,
Whiche maistries Mede
Maketh on this erthe.
Oon Waryn Wisdom,
And Witty his feere, 2130
Folwed hym faste,
For thei hadde to doone
In th'escheker and in the chauncerye,
To ben descharged of thynges;
And riden faste, for Reson sholde
Rede hem the beste,
{67}
For to save hem for silver
From shame and from harmes.
And Conscience knew hem wel,
Thei loved coveitise; 2140
And bad Reson ryde faste,
And recche of hir neither.
"Ther are wiles in hire wordes,
And with Mede thei dwelleth;
Ther as wrathe and wranglynge is,
Ther wynne thei silver;
Ac where is love and leautee,
Thei wol noght come there.
_Contritio et infelicitas in viis eorum,
etc._ 2150
"Thei ne yeveth noght of God
One goose wynge.
_Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc._ =
"For woot God thei wolde do moore
For a dozeyne chicknes,
Or as manye capons,
Or for a seem of otes,
Than for the love of oure Lord,
Or alle hise leeve seintes. 2160
For-thi Reson lat hem ride,
Tho riche by hemselve,
For Conscience knoweth hem noght,
Ne Crist, as I trowe."
And thanne Reson rood faste
The righte heighe gate,
As Conscience hym kenned,
Til thei come to the kynge.
Curteisly the kyng thanne
Com ayeins Reson, 2170
{68}
And bitwene hymself and his sone
Sette hym on benche;
And wordeden wel wisely
A gret while togideres.
And thanne com Pees into parlement,
And putte forth a bille,
How Wrong ayeins his wille
Hadde his wif taken,
And how he ravysshede Rose
Reginaldes loove, 2180
And Margrete of hir maydenhede
Maugree hire chekes.
"Bothe my gees and my grys
Hise gadelynges feccheth,
I dar noght for fere of hem
Fighte ne chide.
He borwed of me Bayard,
He broughte hym hom nevere,
Ne no ferthyng therfore,
For ought I koude plede. 2190
He maynteneth hise men
To murthere myne hewen,
Forstalleth my feires,
And fighteth in my chepyng,
And breketh up my bernes dore,
And bereth awey my whete,
And taketh me but a taillé
For ten quarters of otes;
And yet he beteth me therto,
And lyth by my mayde. 2200
I am noght hardy for hym
Unnethe to loke."
The kyng knew he seide sooth,
For Conscience hym tolde
{69}
That Wrong was a wikked luft,
And wroghte muche sorwe.
Wrong was afered thanne,
And Wisdom he soughte,
To maken pees with hise pens;
And profred hym manye, 2210
And seide, "Hadde I love of my lord the kyng,
Litel wolde I recche,
Theigh Pees and his power
Pleyned hym evere."
Tho wente Wisdom
And sire Waryn the Witty,
For that Wrong hadde y-wroght
So wikked a dede,
And warnede Wrong tho
With swich a wis tale, 2220
"Who so wercheth by wille,
Wrathe maketh ofte;
I sey it by myself,
Thow shalt it wel fynde;
But if Mede it make,
Thi meschief is uppe,
For bothe thi lif and thi lond
Lyth in his grace."
Thanne wowede Wrong
Wisdom ful yerne, 2230
To maken pees with his pens,
Handy dandy payed.
Wisdom and Wit thanne
Wenten togidres,
And token Mede myd hem
Mercy to wynne.
Pees putte forth his heed,
And his panne blody,
{70}
"Withouten gilt, God it woot,
Gat I this scathe; 2240
Conscience and the commune
Knowen the sothe."
Ac Wisdom and Wit
Were aboute faste,
To overcomen the kyng
With catel, if thei myghte.
The kyng swor by Crist,
And by his crowne bothe,
That Wrong for hise werkes
Sholde wo tholie; 2250
And comaundede a constable
To casten hym in irens,
And lete hym noght thise seven yer
Seen his feet ones.
"God woot," quod Wisdom,
"That were noght the beste;
And he amendes nowe make,
Lat maynprise hym have,
And be borgh for his bale,
And buggen hym boote, 2260
And so amenden that is mys-do
And evere moore the bettre."
Wit acorded therwith,
And seide the same,
"Bettre is that boote
Bale a-doun brynge,
Than bale be y-bet,
And boote never the bettre."
And thanne gan Mede to mengen hire,
And mercy she bi-soughte, 2270
And profrede Pees a present
Al of pure golde:
{71}
"Have this, man, of me," quod she,
"To amenden thi scathe,
For I wol wage for Wrong
He wol do so na-moore."
Pitously Pees thanne
Preyde to the kynge,
To have mercy on that man
That mys-dide hym so ofte; 2280
"For he hath waged me wel,
As Wisdom hym taughte,
And I forgyve hym that gilt
With a good wille,
So that the kyng assente,
I kan seye no bettre;
For Mede hath me amendes maad,
I may na-moore axe."
"Nay," quod the kyng tho,
"So me Crist helpe! 2290
Wrong wendeth noght so a-wey,
Erst wole I wite moore.
For lope he so lightly,
Laughen he wolde;
And eft the boldere be
To bete myne hewen;
But Reson have ruthe on hym,
He shal reste in my stokkes;
And that as longe as he lyveth,
But lownesse hym borwe." 2300
Som men radde Reson tho
To have ruthe on that shrewe,
And for to counseille the kyng,
And Conscience after;
That Mede moste be maynpernour
Reson thei bi-soughte.
{72}
"Reed me noght," quod Reson,
"No ruthe to have,
Til lordes and ladies
Loven alle truthe, 2310
And haten alle harlotrie,
To heren or to mouthen it.
"Til Parnelles purfille
Be put in hire hucche,
And childrene cherissynge
Be chastynge with yerdes,
And harlottes holynesse
Be holden for an hyne.
"Til clerkene coveitise be
To clothe the povere and fede, 2320
And religiouse romeris
_Recordare_ in hir cloistres,
As seynt Beneyt hem bad,
Bernard and Fraunceis,
And til prechours prechynge
Be preved on hemselve.
"Til the kynges counseil
Be the commune profit,
Til bisshopes bayardes
Ben beggeris chaumbres, 2330
Hire haukes and hire houndes
Help to povere religious.
"And til seint James be sought
There I shal assigne,
That no man go to Galis
But if he go for evere;--
And alle Rome renneres,
For robberes biyonde,
Bere no silver over see
That signe of kyng sheweth, 2340
{73}
Neither grave ne ungrave,
Gold neither silver,
Upon forfeture of that fee,
Who so fynt it at Dovere,
But if he be marchaunt or his man,
Or messager with lettres,
Provysour or preest,
Or penaunt for hise synnes.
"And yet," quod Reson, "by the Rode!
I shal no ruthe have, 2350
While Mede hath the maistrie
In this moot-halle.
Ac I may shewe ensamples,
As I se outher while,
I seye it by myself," quod he,
"And it so were
That I were kyng with coroune
To kepen a reaume,
Sholde nevere Wrong in this world,
That I wite myghte, 2360
Ben unpunysshed in my power,
For peril of my soule,
Ne gete my grace for giftes,
So me God save!
Ne for no mede have mercy,
But mekenesse it make;
For _nullum malum_ the man
Mette with _inpunitum_,
And bad _nullum bonum_
Be _irremuneratum_. 2370
"Lat youre confessour, sire kyng,
Construe this unglosed;
And if ye werchen it in werk,
I wedde myne eris,
{74}
That lawe shal ben a laborer
And lede a-feld donge,
And love shal lede thi lond,
As the leef liketh."
Clerkes that were confessours
Coupled hem togideres, 2380
Al to construe this clause,
And for the kynges profit,
Ac noght for confort of the commune,
Ne for the kynges soule;
For I seigh Mede in the moot-halle
On men of lawe wynke,
And thei laughynge lope to hire,
And left Reson manye.
Waryn Wisdom
Wynked upon Mede, 2390
And seide, "Madame, I am youre man,
What so my mouth jangle;
I falle in floryns," quod that freke,
"And faile speche ofte."
Alle rightfulle recordede
That Reson truthe tolde;
And Wit acorded therwith,
And comendede hise wordes,
And the mooste peple in the halle,
And manye of the grete, 2400
And leten Mekenesse a maister,
And Mede a mansed sherewe.
Love leet of hire light,
And leauté yet lasse,
And seiden it so heighe
That al the halle it herde,
"Who so wilneth hire to wif,
For welthe of hire goodes,
{75}
But he be knowe for a cokewold,
Kut of my nose." 2410
Mede mornede tho,
And made hevy chere,
For the mooste commune of that court
Called hire an hore.
Ac a sisour and a somonour
Sued hire faste,
And a sherreves clerk
Bisherewed at the route;
"For ofte have I," quod he,
"Holpen yow at the barre, 2420
And yet yeve ye me nevere
The worth of a risshe."
The kyng callede Conscience,
And afterward Reson,
And recordede that Reson
Hadde rightfully shewed;
And modiliche upon Mede
With myght the kyng loked;
And gan wexe wroth with lawe,
For Mede almoost hadde shent it; 2430
And seide, "thorugh lawe, as I leve!
I lese manye eschetes;
Mede overmaistreth lawe,
And muche Truthe letteth.
Ac Reson shal rekene with yow,
If I regne any while,
And deme yow bi this day,
As ye han deserved.
Mede shal noght maynprise yow,
By the Marie of hevene! 2440
I wole have leauté in lawe,
And lete be al youre janglyng;
{76}
And as moost folk witnesseth wel,
Wrong shal be demed."
Quod Conscience to the kyng,
"But the commune wole assente,
It is ful hard, by myn heed!
Hertoo to brynge it,
Alle youre lige leodes
To lede thus evene." 2450
"By hym that raughte on the rode!"
Quod Reson to the kynge,
"But if I rule thus youre reaume,
Rende out my guttes,
If ye bidden buxomnesse
Be of myn assent."
"And I assente," seith the kyng,
"By seinte Marie my lady!
By my counseil commune,
Of clerkes and of erles; 2460
Ac redily, Reson,
Thow shalt noght ride fro me,
For, as longe as I lyve,
Lete thee I nelle."
"I am al redy," quod Reson,
"To reste with yow evere;
So Conscience be of oure counseil,
I kepe no bettre."
"And I graunte," quod the kyng,
"Goddes forbode ellis!
Als longe as oure lyf lasteth,
Lyve we togideres." 2472
* * * * *
{77}
_Passus Quintus de Visione, ut supra._
The kyng and hise knyghtes 2473
To the kirke wente,
To here matyns of the day
And the masse after.
Thanne waked I of my wynkyng,
And wo was withalle,
That I ne hadde slept sadder,
And y-seighen moore. 2480
Ac er I hadde faren a furlong,
Feyntise me hente,
That I ne myghte ferther a foot
For defaute of slepynge,
And sat softely a-doun,
And seide my bileve,
And so I bablede on my bedes,
Thei broughte me a-slepe.
And thanne saugh I muche moore
Than I bifore of tolde, 2490
For I seigh the feld ful of folk,
That I bifore of seide,
And how Reson gan arayen hym
Al the reaume to preche,
And with a cros afore the kyng
Comsede thus to techen.
{78}
He preved that thise pestilences
Were for pure synne,
And the south-westrene wynd
On Saterday at even 2500
Was pertliche for pure pride,
And for no point ellis;
Pyries and plum-trees
Were puffed to the erthe,
In ensaumple that the segges
Sholden do the bettre;
Beches and brode okes
Were blowen to the grounde,
Turned upward hire tailes,
In tokenynge of drede 2510
That dedly synne er domes-day
Shal for-doon hem alle.
Of this matere I myghte
Mamelen ful longe;
Ac I shal seye as I saugh,
So me God helpe!
How pertly afore the peple
Reson bigan to preche.
He bad Wastour go werche,
What he best kouthe, 2520
And wynnen his wastyng
With som maner crafte.
He preide Pernele
Hir purfil to lete,
And kepe it in hire cofre
For catel at hire nede.
Tomme Stowne he taughte
To take two staves,
And fecche Felice hom
Fro the wynen pyne. 2530
{79}
He warnede Watte
His wif was to blame,
For hire heed was worth half marc,
And his hood noght worth a grote;
And bad Bette kutte
A bough outher tweye,
And bete Beton therwith,
But if she wolde werche.
And thanne he chargede chapmen
To chastizen hir children, 2540
Late no wynnyng hem for-wanye
While thei be yonge,
Ne for no poustee of pestilence
Plese hem noght out of reson.
"My sire seide so to me,
And so dide my dame,
That the levere child
The moore loore bihoveth;
And Salomon seide the same,
That _Sapience_ made, 2550
_Qui parcit virgæ, odit filium_.
The Englissh of this Latyn is,
Who so wole it knowe
Who so spareth the spring,
Spilleth hise children."
And sithen he prechede prelates
And preestes togideres,
"That ye prechen to the peple,
Preve it on yowselve,
And dooth it in dede, 2560
It shal drawe yow to goode;
If ye leven as ye leren us,
We shul leve yow the bettre."
And sithen he radde Religion
{80}
Hir rule to holde;
"Lest the kyng and his conseil
Youre comunes apeire,
And be stywardes of youre stedes,
Til ye be ruled bettre."
And sithen he counseiled the kyng 2570
His commune to lovye;
"It is thi trewe tresor,
And tryacle at thy nede."
And sithen he preide the pope
Have pité on holy chirche,
And er he gyve any grace,
Governe first hymselve.
"And ye that han lawes to kepe,
Lat truthe be youre coveitise,
Moore than gold outher giftes, 2580
If ye wol God plese;
For who so contrarieth Truthe,
He telleth in the gospel,
That God knoweth hym noght,
Ne no seynt of hevene.
_Amen dico vobis, nescio vos._
"And ye that seke seynt James,
And seyntes of Rome,
Seketh seynt Truthe,
For he may save yow alle; 2590
_Qui cum patre et filio_,
That faire hem bi-falle
That seweth my sermon."
And thus seyde Reson.
Thanne ran Repentaunce,
And reherced his teme:
And garte Wille to wepe
Water with hise eighen.
{81}
Pernele Proud-herte
Platte hire to the erthe, 2600
And lay longe er she loked,
And "Lord, mercy!" cryde,
And bi-highte to hym
That us alle made,
She sholde unsowen hir serk,
And sette there an heyre,
To affaiten hire flesshe
That fiers was to synne.
"Shal nevere heigh herte me hente,
But holde I wole me lowe 2610
And suffre to be mys-seyd,
And so dide I nevere;
And now I wole meke me,
And mercy biseche,
For al this I have
Hated in myn herte."
Thanne Lechour seide, "Allas!"
And on oure Lady he cryde,
To maken mercy for hise mys-dedes
Bitwene God and his soule; 2620
With that he sholde the Saterday,
Seven yer therafter,
Drynke but myd the doke,
And dyne but ones.
Envye with hevy herte
Asked after shrifte,
And carefully _mea culpa_
He comsed to shewe.
He was as pale as a pelet,
In the palsy he semed; 2630
And clothed in a kaurymaury,
I kouthe it nought discryve,
{82}
In kirtel and courtepy,
And a knyf by his syde;
Of a freres frokke
Were the fore-sleves;
And as a leek that hadde y-leye
Longe in the sonne,
So loked he with lene chekes
Lourynge foule. 2640
His body was to-bollen for wrathe,
That he boot hise lippes;
And wryngynge he yede with the fust,
To wreke hymself he thoughte
With werkes or with wordes,
Whan he seyghe his tyme.
Ech a word that he warpe
Was of a neddres tonge;
Of chidynge and of chalangynge
Was his chief liflode, 2650
With bakbitynge and bismere,
And berynge of fals witnesse.
"I wolde ben y-shryve," quod this sherewe,
"And I for shame dorste;
I wolde be gladder, by God!
That Gybbe hadde meschaunce,
Than though I hadde this wouke y-wonne
A weye of Essex chese.
"I have a neghebore by me,
I have anoyed hym ofte, 2660
And lowen on hym to lordes
To doon hym lese his silver,
And maad his frendes be his foon
Thorugh my false tonge;
His grace and his goode happes
Greven me ful soore.
{83}
"Bitwene manye and manye
I make debate ofte,
That bothe lif and lyme
Is lost thorugh my speche. 2670
And whan I mete hym in market
That I moost hate,
I hailse hym hendely,
As I his frend were;
For he is doughtier than I,
I dar do noon oother;
Ac hadde I maistrie and myght,
God woot my wille!
"And whan I come to the kirk,
And sholde knele to the roode, 2680
And preye for the peple
As the preest techeth,
For pilgrymes and for palmeres,
For al the peple after,
Thanne I crye on my knees
That Crist gyve hem sorwe,
That beren awey my bolle
And my broke shete.
"Awey fro the auter thanne
Turne I myne eighen, 2690
And bi-holde Eleyne
Hath a newe cote;
I wisshe thanne it were myn,
And al the web after.
"And of mennes lesynge I laughe,
That liketh myn herte;
And for hir wynnynge I wepe,
And waille the tyme;
And deme that thei doon ille,
There I do wel werse. 2700
{84}
Who so under-nymeth me hero
I hate hym dedly after;
I wolde that ech a wight
Were my knave,
For who so hath moore than I,
Than angreth me soore.
And thus I lyve love-lees,
Lik a luther dogge;
That al my body bolneth,
For bitter of my galle. 2710
"I myghte noght ete many yeres
As a man oughte,
For envye and yvel wil
Is yvel to defie.
May no sugre ne swete thyng
Aswage my swellyng?
Ne no _diapenidion_
Dryve it fro myn herte?
Ne neither shrifte ne shame,
But who so shrape my mawe?" 2720
"Yis redily," quod Repentaunce,
And radde hym to the beste,
"Sorwe of synnes
Is savacion of soules."
"I am sory," quod that segge,
"I am but selde oother,
And that maketh me thus megre,
For I ne may me venge.
"Amonges burgeises have I be
Dwellyng at Londone, 2730
And gart bakbityng be a brocour
To blame mennes ware;
Whan he solde and I nought,
Thanne was I redy
{85}
To lye and to loure on my neghebore,
And to lakke his chaffare;
I wole amende this, if I may,
Thorugh myght of God almyghty."
Now awaketh Wrathe,
With two white eighen; 2740
And nevelynge with the nose,
And his nekke hangyng.
"I am Wrathe," quod he,
"I was som tyme a frere,
And the coventes gardyner
For to graffen impes;
On lymitours and listres
Lesynges I ymped,
Til thei beere leves of lowe speche,
Lordes to plese, 2750
And sithen thei blosmede a-brood
In boure to here shriftes;
And now is fallen therof a fruyt,
That folk han wel levere
Shewen hire shriftes to hem,
Than shryve hem to hir persons.
"And now persons han perceyved
That freres parte with hem,
Thise possessioners preche
And deprave freres. 2760
"And freres fyndeth hem in defaute,
As folk bereth witnesse,
That whan thei preche the peple
In many places aboute,
I Wrathe walke with hem,
And wisse hem of my bokes.
Thus thei speken of my spiritualté,
That either despiseth oother,
{86}
Til thei be bothe beggers
And by my spiritualté libben, 2770
Or ellis al riche
And ryden aboute.
I Wrathe reste nevere,
That I ne moste folwe
This wikked folk,
For swich is my grace.
"I have an aunte to nonne,
And an abbesse bothe;
Hir hadde levere swowe or swelte,
Than suffre any peyne, 2780
"I have be cook in hir kichene,
And the covent served
Manye monthes with hem,
And with monkes bothe.
I was the prioresse potager,
And othere povere ladies,
And maad hem joutes of janglyng,
That dame Johane was a bastard,
And dame Clarice a knyghtes doughter,
Ac a cokewold was hir sire; 2790
And dame Pernele a preestes fyle,
Prioresse worth she nevere,
For she hadde child in chirie-tyme,
Al our chapitre it wiste.
"Of wikkede wordes
I Wrathe hire wortes made,
Til 'thow lixt' and 'thow lixt'
Lopen out at ones,
And either hite oother
Under the cheke; 2800
Hadde thei had knyves, by Crist
Hir either hadde kild oother.
{87}
"Seint Gregory was a good pope,
And hadde a good forwit,
That no prioresse were preest,
For that he ordeyned;
They hadde thanne ben _infames_ the firste day,
Thei kan so yvele hele conseil.
"Among monkes I myghte be,
Ac many tyme I shonye it; 2810
For there ben manye felle frekes
My feeris to aspie,
Bothe priour and suppriour
And oure _pater abbas_;
And if I telle any tales,
Thei taken hem togideres,
And doon me faste frydayes
To breed and to watre,
And am chalanged in the chapitre hous
As I a child were, 2820
And baleised on the bare ers,
And no brech bitwene.
For-thi have I no likyng
With tho leodes to wonye.
I ete there unthende fisshe,
And feble ale drynke;
Ac outher while whan wyn cometh,
Thanne I drynke wyn at eve,
And have a flux of a foul mouth
Wel fyve dayes after. 2830
Al the wikkednesse that I woot
By any of oure bretheren,
I couthe it in oure cloistre,
That al oure covent woot it."
"Now repente thee," quod Repentaunce,
"And reherce thow nevere
{88}
Counseil that thow knowest
By contenaunce ne by right;
And drynk nat over delicatly,
Ne to depe neither, 2840
That thi wille by cause therof
To wrathe myghte turne.
_Esto sobrius_," he seide,
And assoiled me after,
And bad me wilne to wepe
My wikkednesse to amende.
And thanne cam Coveitise,
Kan I hym naght discryve,
So hungrily and holwe
Sire Hervy hym loked. 2850
He was bitel-browed,
And baber-lipped also,
With two blered eighen
As a blynd hagge;
And as a letheren purs
Lolled hise chekes,
Wel sidder than his chyn
Thei chyveled for elde;
And as a bonde-man of his bacon
His berd was bi-draveled, 2860
With an hood on his heed,
A lousy hat above,
And in a tawny tabard
Of twelf wynter age,
Al so torn and baudy,
And ful of lys crepyng,
But if that a lous couthe
Han lopen the bettre,
She sholde noght han walked on that welthe,
So was it thred-bare. 2870
{89}
"I have ben coveitous," quod this caytif,
"I bi-knowe it here,
For som tyme I served
Symme-atte-Style,
And was his prentice y-plight
His profit to wayte.
"First I lerned to lye,
A leef outher tweyne;
Wikkedly to weye
Was my firste lesson; 2880
To Wy and to Wynchestre
I wente to the feyre,
With many manere marchaundise,
As my maister me highte.
Ne hadde the grace of gyle y-go
Amonges my chaffare,
It hadde ben unsold this seven yer,
So me God helpe!
"Thanne drough I me among drapiers,
My donet to lerne, 2890
To drawe the liser along,
The lenger it semed;
Among the riche rayes
I rendred a lesson,
To broche hem with a pak-nedle,
And playte hem togideres,
And putte hem in a presse,
And pyne hem therinne,
Til ten yerdes or twelve
Hadde tolled out thrittene. 2900
"My wif was a webbe,
And wollen cloth made;
She spak to spynnesteres
To spynnen it oute,
{90}
Ac the pound that she paied by
Peised a quatron moore
Than myn owene auncer,
Who so weyed truthe.
"I boughte hire barly-malt,
She brew it to selle, 2910
Peny ale and puddyng ale
She poured togideres,
For laborers and for lowe folk
That lay by hymselve.
"The beste ale lay in my bour,
Or in my bed-chambre;
And who so bummed therof,
Boughte it therafter,
A galon for a grote,
God woot, no lesse! 2920
And yet it cam in cuppe-mele,
This craft my wif used.
Rose the Regrater
Was hire righte name;
She hath holden hukkerye
Al hire lif tyme.
Ac I swere now, so thee ik!
That synne wol I lete,
And nevere wikkedly weye,
Ne wikke chaffare use; 2930
But wenden to Walsyngham,
And my wif als,
And bidde the Roode of Bromholm
Brynge me out of dette."
"Repentedestow evere?" quod Repentaunce,
"Or restitucion madest."
"Yis, ones I was y-herberwed," quod he,
{91}
"With an heep of chapmen,
I roos whan thei were a-reste
And riflede hire males." 2940
"That was no restitucion," quod Repentaunce,
"But a robberis thefte;
Thow haddest be the bettre worthi
Ben hanged therfore,
Than for al that
That thow hast here shewed."
"I wende riflynge were restitucion," quod he,
"For I lerned nevere rede on boke;
And I kan no Frensshe, in feith,
But of the fertheste ende of Northfolk." 2950
"Usedestow evere usurie?" quod Repentaunce,
"In al thi lif tyme."
"Nay sothly," he seide,
"Save in my youthe
I lerned among Lumbardes
And Jewes a lesson,
To weye pens with a peis,
And pare the hevyeste,
And lene it for love of the cros,
To legge a wed and lese it. 2960
Swiche dedes I dide write,
If he his day breke,
I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages,
Than thorugh _miseretur et commodat_.
"I have lent lordes
And ladies my chaffare,
And ben hire brocour after,
And bought it myselve;
{92}
Eschaunges and chevysaunces
With swich chaffare I dele, 2970
And lene folk that lese wole
A lippe at every noble,
And with Lumbardes lettres
I ladde gold to Rome,
And took it by tale here,
And tolde hem there lasse."
"Lentestow evere lordes,
For love of hire mayntenaunce?"
"Ye, I have lent to lordes,
Loved me nevere after, 2980
And have y-maad many a knyght
Bothe mercer and draper,
That payed nevere for his prentishode
Noght a peire gloves."
"Hastow pité on povere men,
That mote nedes borwe?"
"I have as muche pité of povere men,
As pedlere hath of cattes,
That wolde kille hem, if he cacche hem myghte,
For coveitise of hir skynnes." 2990
"Artow manlich among thi neghebores
Of thi mete and drynke?"
"I am holden," quod he, "as hende
As hound is in kichene,
Amonges my neghebores, namely,
Swiche a name ich have."
"Now God lene thee nevere," quod Repentaunce,
"But thow repente the rather,
The grace on this grounde
{93}
Thi good wel to bi-sette, 3000
Ne thyne heires after thee
Have joie of that thow wynnest,
Ne thyne executours wel bi-sette
The silver that thow hem levest;
And that was wonne with wrong
With wikked men be despended.
For were I frere of that hous
Ther good feith and charité is,
I nolde cope us with thi catel,
Ne oure kirk amende, 3010
Ne have a peny to my pitaunce,
So God my soule save!
For the beste book in oure hous,
Theigh brent gold were the leves,
And I wiste witterly
Thow were swich as thow tellest.
_Servus es alterius,
Dum fercula pinguia quæris;
Pane tuo potius
Vescere, liber eris._ 3020
"Thow art an unkynde creature,
I kan thee noght assoille,
Til thow make restitucion
And rekene with hem alle;
And sithen that Reson rolle it
In the registre of hevene,
That thow hast maad ech man good,
I may thee noght assoile.
_Non dimittitur peccatum, donec restituatur
oblatum._ 3030
"For alle that han of thi good,
Have God my trouthe!
Ben holden at the heighe doom
{94}
To helpe thee to restitue;
And who so leveth noght this be sooth,
Loke in the Sauter glose,
In _Miserere mei, Deus_,
Wher I mene truthe;
_Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti, etc._
Shal nevere werkman in this world 3040
Thryve with that thow wynnest.
_Cum sancto sanctus eris;_
Construwe me this on Englisshe."
Thanne weex that sherewe in wanhope,
And wolde han hanged hym;
Ne hadde Repentaunce the rather
Reconforted hym in this manere.
"Have mercy in thi mynde,
And with thi mouth biseche it;
For Goddes mercy is moore 3050
Than alle hise othere werkes.
And al the wikkednesse in this world
That man myghte werche or thynke,
Nis na-moore to the mercy of God,
Than in the see a gleede.
_Omnis iniquitas quantum ad misericordiam
Dei, est quasi scintilla
in medio maris._
"For-thi have mercy in thy mynde,
And marchaundise leve it; 3060
For thow hast no good ground
To gete thee with a wastel,
But if it were with thi tonge,
Or ellis with thi two hondes.
For the good that thow hast geten
Bigan al with falshede,
And as longe as thow lyvest therwith,
{95}
Thow yeldest noght, but borwest.
"And if thow wite nevere to whiche,
Ne whom to restitue, 3070
Ber it to the bisshope,
And bid hym of his grace
Bi-sette it hymself,
As best is for thi soule;
For he shal answere for thee
At the heighe dome,
For thee and for many mo
That man shal yeve a rekenyng,
What he lerned yow in Lente,
Leve thow noon oother, 3080
And what he lente yow of oure Lordes good
To lette yow fro synne."
Now bi-gynneth Gloton
For to go to shrifte,
And karieth hym to kirke-warde
His coupe to shewe;
And Beton the brewestere
Bad hym good morwe,
And asked at hym with that,
Whider-ward he wolde. 3090
"To holy chirche," quod he,
"For to here masse,
And sithen I wole be shryven,
And synne na-moore."
"I have good ale, gossib," quod she,
"Gloton, woltow assaye?"
"Hastow ought in thi purs?" quod he,
"Any hote spices?"
"I have pepir and piones," quod she,
"And a pound of garleek, 3100
And a ferthyng-worth of fenel-seed
{96}
For fastynge dayes."
Thanne goth Glotin in,
And grete othes after.
Cesse the souteresse
Sat on the benche;
Watte the warner,
And his wif bothe;
Tymme the tynkere,
And tweyne of his prentices; 3110
Hikke the hakeney-man,
And Hughe the nedlere;
Clarice of Cokkeslane,
And the clerk of the chirche;
Dawe the dykere,
And a dozeyne othere.
Sire Piers of Pridie,
And Pernele of Flaundres;
A ribibour, a ratoner,
A rakiere of Chepe, 3120
A ropere, a redyng-kyng,
And Rose the dyssheres;
Godefray of Garlekhithe,
And Griffyn the Walshe;
And upholderes an heep,
Erly by the morwe,
Geve Gloton with glad chere
Good ale to hanselle.
Clement the Cobelere
Caste of his cloke, 3130
And at the newe feire
He nempned it to selle,
Hikke the hakeney-man
Hitte his hood after,
And bad Bette the bocher
{97}
Ben on his syde.
Ther were chapmen y-chose
This chaffare to preise,
That who so hadde the hood
Sholde han amendes of the cloke. 3140
Two risen up in rape,
And rouned togideres,
And preised thise peny-worthes
A-part by hemselve;
Thei kouthe noght by hir conscience
Acorden in truthe,
Til Robyn the ropere
Aroos by the southe,
And nempned hym for a nounpere,
That no debat nere. 3150
Hikke the hostiler
Hadde the cloke,
In covenaunt that Clement
Sholde the cuppe fille,
And have Hikkes hood hostiler,
And holden hym y-served.
And who so repented rathest
Sholde aryse after,
And greten sire Gloton
With a galon ale. 3160
There was laughynge and lourynge,
And "lat go the cuppe;"
And seten so till even-song,
And songen umwhile,
Til Gloton hadde y-glubbed
A galon and a gille.
Hise guttes bigonne to gothelen
As two gredy sowes;
He pissed a potel
{98}
In a pater-noster while, 3170
And blew his rounde ruwet
At his rugge-bones ende,
That alle that herde that horn
Held hir noses after,
And wisshed it hadde been wexed
With a wispe of firses.
He myghte neither steppe ne stonde,
Er he his staf hadde;
And thanne gan he to go
Like a gle-mannes bicche, 3180
Som tyme aside,
And som tyme arere,
As who so leith lynes
For to lacche foweles.
And whan he drough to the dore,
Thanne dymmed his eighen;
He stumbled on the thresshfold,
And threw to the erthe.
Clement the cobelere
Kaughte hym by the myddel, 3190
For to liften hym o-lofte;
And leyde hym on his knowes.
Ac Gloton was a gret cherl,
And a grym in the liftyng,
And koughed up a cawdel
In Clementes lappe;
Is noon so hungry hound
In Hertford shire
Dorste lape of that levynges,
So un-lovely thei smaughte. 3200
With al the wo of this world,
His wif and his wenche
Baren hym hom to his bed,
{99}
And broughte hym therinne;
And after al this excesse
He hadde an accidie,
That he sleep Saterday and Sonday,
Til sonne yede to reste.
Thanne waked he of his wynkyng,
And wiped hise eighen; 3210
The firste word that he warpe
Was "where is the bolle?"
His wif gan edwyte hym tho,
How wikkedly he lyvede;
And Repentaunce right so
Rebuked hym that tyme,
"As thow with wordes and werkes
Has wroght yvele in thi lyve,
Shryve thee, and be shamed therof,
And shewe it with thi mouthe." 3220
"I Gloton," quod the grom,
"Gilty me yelde,
That I have trespased with my tonge,
I kan noght telle how ofte;
Sworen Goddes soule,
And so me God helpe!
There no nede was,
Nyne hundred tymes.
"And over-seyen me at my soper,
And som tyme at nones, 3230
That I Gloton girte it up
Er I hadde gon a myle,
An y-spilt that myghte be spared
And spended on som hungry;
Over delicatly on fastyng-dayes
Dronken and eten bothe,
And sat som tyme so longe there,
{100}
That I sleep and eet at ones.
For love of tales in tavernes
And for drynke, the moore I dyned; 3240
And hyed to the mete er noon,
Whan fastyng-days were."
"This shewynge shrift," quod Repentaunce,
"Shal be meryt to the."
And thanne gan Gloton greete,
And gret doel to make,
For his luther lif
That he lyved hadde;
And avowed to faste,
"For hunger or for thurste, 3250
Shal nevere fyssh on Fryday
Defyen in my wombe,
Til abstinence myn aunte
Have gyve me leeve;
And yet have I hated hire
Al my lif tyme."
Thanne cam Sleuthe al bi-slabered,
With two slymy eighen;
"I moste sitte," seide the segge,
"Or ellis sholde I nappe. 3260
I may noght stonde ne stoupe,
Ne withoute a stool knele;
Were I brought a-bedde,
But if my tail-ende it made,
Sholde no ryngynge do me ryse
Er I were ripe to dyne."
He bigan Benedicite with a bolk,
And his brest knokked,
And raxed and rored,
And rutte at the laste. 3270
{101}
"What, awake, renk!" quod Repentaunce,
"And rape thee to shryfte."
"If I sholde deye bi this day,
Me list nought to loke;
I kan noght parfitly my pater-noster,
As the preest it syngeth;
But I kan rymes of Robyn Hood,
And Randolf erl of Chestre;
Ac neither of oure Lord ne of oure Lady
The leeste that evere was maked. 3280
"I have maad avowes fourty,
And foryete hem on the morwe;
I perfournede nevere penaunce
As the preest me highte;
Ne right sory for my synnes
Yet was I nevere.
And if I bidde any bedes,
But if it be in wrathe,
That I telle with my tonge
Is two myle fro myn herte. 3290
I am ocupied eche day,
Haly-day and oother,
With ydel tales at the ale,
And outher while at chirche;
Goddes peyne and his passion
Ful selde thenke I on it.
"I visited nevere feble men,
Ne fettred folk in puttes;
I have levere here an harlotrye,
Or a somer game of souters, 3300
Or lesynge to laughen at
And bi-lye my neghebores,
Than al that evere Marc made,
{102}
Mathew, Johan, and Lucas.
And vigilies and fastyng-dayes,
Alle thise late I passe;
And ligge a-bedde in Lenten,
And my lemman in myne armes,
Til matyns and masse be do,
And thanne go to the freres. 3310
Come I to _Ite, missa est_,
I holde me y-served;
I nam noght shryven som tyme,
But if siknesse it make,
Nought twyes in two yer,
And thanne up gesse I shryve me.
"I have be preest and parson
Passynge thritty wynter,
And yet can I neyther solne ne synge,
Ne seintes lyves rede; 3320
But I kan fynden in a feld,
Or in a furlang, an hare,
Bettre than in _Beatus vir,
Or in Beati omnes_,
Construe oon clause wel
And kenne it to my parisshens.
I kan holde love-dayes,
And here a reves rekenyng;
Ac in canon nor in decretals
I kan noght rede a lyne. 3330
"If I bigge and borwe aught,
But if it be y-tailed,
I foryete it as yerne;
And if men me it axe
Sixe sithes or sevene,
I forsake it with othes;
And thus tene I trewe men
{103}
Ten hundred tymes.
"And my servauntz som tyme
Hir salarie is bi-hynde; 3340
Ruthe it is to here the rekenyng,
Whan we shul rede acountes.
So with wikked wil and wrathe,
My werkmen I paye.
"If any man dooth me a bienfait,
Or helpeth me at nede,
I am unkynde ayeins curteisie,
And kan nought understounden it;
For I have and have had
Som del haukes maneres, 3350
I am noght lured with love,
But ther ligge aught under the thombe.
"The kyndenesse that myn even cristene
Kidde me fernyere,
Sixty sithes I Sleuthe
Have foryete it siththe.
In speche and in sparynge of speche
Y-spilt many a tyme
Bothe flessh and fissh,
And manye othere vitailles, 3360
Both bred and ale,
Buttre, melk, and chese,
For-sleuthed in my service
Til it myghte serve no man.
"I ran aboute in youthe,
And yaf me naught to lerne,
And evere siththe have I be beggere
For my foule sleuthe.
_Heu michi! quia sterilem vitam duxi
juvenilem._" 3370
"Repentedestow noght?" quod Repentaunce;
{104}
And right with that he swowned,
Til _Vigilate_ the veille
Fette water at hise eighen,
And flatte it on his face,
And faste on hym cryde,
And seide, "Ware thee, for Wanhope
Wolde thee bi-traye,
'I am sory for my synnes'
Seye to thiselve, 3380
And beet thiself on the brest,
And bidde hym of grace;
For is ne gilt here so gret
That his goodnesse nys moore."
Thanne sat Sleuthe up,
And seyned hym swithe,
And made a vow to-fore God
For his foule sleuthe.
"Shal no Sonday be this seven yer,
But siknesse it lette, 3390
That I ne shal do me er day
To the deere chirche;
And here matyns and masse,
As I a monk were,
Shal noon ale after mete
Holde me thennes,
Til I have even-song herd,
I bi-hote to the roode!
And yet wole I yelde ayein,
If I so much have, 3400
Al that I wikkedly wan
Sithen I wit hadde.
"And though my liflode lakke,
Leten I nelle,
That ech man ne shal have his,
{105}
Er I hennes wende;
And with the residue and the remenaunt,
Bi the Rode of Chestre!
I shal seken Truthe erst
Er I se Rome." 3410
Roberd the robbere
On _Reddite_ loked,
And for ther was noght wherof,
He wepte swithe soore;
Ac yet the synfulle sherewe
Seide to hymselve,
"Crist, that on Calvarie
Upon the cros deidest,
Tho Dysmas my brother
Bi-soughte yow of grace, 3420
And haddest mercy on that man
For _memento_ sake,
So rewe on this robbere
That _reddere_ ne have,
Ne nevere wene to wynne
With craft that I owe;
But for thi muchel mercy
Mitigacion I bi-seche,
Ne dampne me noght at domes-day
For that I dide so ille." 3430
What bi-fel of this feloun
I kan noght faire shewe;
Wel I woot he wepte faste
Water with bothe hise eighen,
And knoweliched his gilt
To Crist yet eft soones,
That _Poenetentia_ his pik
He sholde polshe newe,
And lepe with hym over lond
{106}
Al his lif tyme, 3440
For he hadde leyen by _Latro_
Luciferis aunte.
And thanne hadde Repentaunce ruthe,
And redde hem alle to knele;
"For I shal bi-seche for alle synfulle
Our Saveour of grace,
To amenden us of oure mysdedes,
And do mercy to us alle."
"Now God," quod he, "that of thi goodnesse
Bi-gonne the world to make, 3450
And of naught madest aught, and man
Moost lik to thiselve,
And sithen suffredest for to synne,
A siknesse to us alle,
And al for the beste, as I bi-leve,
What evere the book telleth.
_O felix culpa! O necessarium peccatum Adæ! etc._ =
"For thorugh that synne thi sone
Sent was to this erthe, 3460
And bicam man of a maide,
Mankynde to save:
And madest thiself with thi sone
And us synfulle y-liche
_Faciamus hominem ad imaginem
nostram. Et alibi. Qui manet
in caritate, in Deo manet, et
Deus in eo._
"And siththe with thi selve sone
In oure secte deidest, 3470
On Good-Fryday, for mannes sake,
At ful tyme of the daye,
{107}
Ther thiself ne thi sone
No sorwe in deeth feledest,
But in oure secte was the sorwe,
And thi sone it ladde.
_Captivam duxit captivitatem._
"The sonne for sorwe therof
Lees light of a tyme,
Aboute mydday whan moost light is, 3480
And meel-tyme of seintes,
Feddest with thi fresshe blood
Oure fore-fadres in derknesse.
_Populus qui ambulabat in tenebris,
vidit lucem magnam._
"And thorugh the light that lepe out of thee
Lucifer was blent.
And blewe alle thi blessed
Into the blisse of paradys.
"The thridde day after 3490
Thow yedest in oure sute,
A synful Marie the seigh,
Er seynte Marie thi dame;
And al to solace synfulle
Thow suffredest it so were.
_Non veni vocare justos sed peccatores
ad poenitentiam._
"And al that Marc hath y-maad,
Mathew, Johan, and Lucas,
Of thyne doughty dedes 3500
Was doon in oure armes.
_Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis._ =
"And by so muche me semeth
The sikerer we mowe
Bidde and bi-seche,
{108}
If it be thi wille,
That art oure fader and oure brother,
Be merciable to us,
And have ruthe on thise ribaudes 3510
That repenten hem here soore,
That evere thei wrathed thee in this world,
In word, thought, or dedes."
Thanne hent Hope an horn
Of _Deus, tu conversus vivificabis_,
And blew it with _Beati quorum
Remissæ sunt iniquitates_,
That alle seintes in hevene
Songen at ones.
_Homines et jumenta salvabis, quemadmodum 3520
multiplicasti misericordiam tuam._ =
A thousand of men tho
Thrungen togideres,
Cride upward to Crist,
And to his clene moder,
To have grace to go with hem
Truthe to seke.
Ac there was wight noon so wys
The wey thider kouthe, 3530
But blustreden forth as beestes
Over bankes and hilles;
Til late was and longe
That thei a leode mette,
Apparailled as a paynym
In pilgrymes wise.
He bar a burdoun y-bounde
With a brood liste,
In a withwynde wise
Y-wounden aboute; 3540
{109}
A bolle and a bagge
He bar by his syde,
And hundred of ampulles
On his hat seten,
Signes of Synay,
And shelles of Galice,
And many a crouche on his cloke,
And keyes of Rome,
And the vernycle bi-fore,
For men sholde knowe 3550
And se bi hise signes
Whom he sought hadde.
This folk frayned hym first,
Fro whennes he come.
"Fram Syny," he seide,
"And fram oure Lordes sepulcre;
In Bethlem and in Babiloyne,
I have ben in bothe;
In Armonye and Alisaundre,
In manye othere places. 3560
Ye may se by my signes,
That sitten on myn hatte,
That I have walked ful wide
In weet and in drye,
And sought goode seintes
For my soules helthe."
"Knowestow aught a corsaint,
That men calle Truthe?
Koudestow aught wissen us the wey,
Wher that wye dwelleth?" 3570
"Nay, so me God helpe!"
Seide the gome thanne,
"I seigh nevere palmere,
With pyk ne with scrippe,
{110}
Asken after hym er
Til now in this place."
"Peter!" quod a plowman,
And putte forth his hed,
"I knowe hym as kyndely
As clerk doth hise bokes; 3580
Conscience and kynde wit
Kenned me to his place,
And diden me suren hym sikerly
To serven hym for evere,
Bothe to sowe and to sette,
The while I swynke myghte.
I have ben his folwere
Al this fifty wynter,
Bothe y-sowen his seed,
And suwed hise beestes, 3590
Withinne and withouten
Waited his profit.
I dyke and I delve,
I do that Truthe hoteth;
Som tyme I sowe,
And som tyme I thresshe;
In taillours craft and tynkeris craft,
What Truthe kan devyse,
I weve and I wynde,
And do what Truthe hoteth, 3600
For though I seye it myselfe,
I serve hym to paye;
I have myn hire wel,
And outher whiles moore.
He is the presteste paiere
That povere men knoweth;
He ne withhalt noon hewe his hire,
That he ne hath it at even;
{111}
He is as lowe as a lomb,
And lovelich of speche; 3610
And if ye wilneth to wite
Where that he dwelleth,
I shal wisse you witterly
The wey to his place."
"Ye, leve Piers," quod thise pilgrimes,
And profred hym huyre,
For to wende with hem
To Truthes dwellyng-place.
"Nay, by my soules helpe!" quod Piers,
And gan for to swere, 3620
"I nolde fange a ferthyng.
For seint Thomas shryne;
Truthe wolde love me the lasse
A long tyme therafter;
Ac if yow wilneth to wende wel,
This is the wey thider.
"Ye moten go thorugh Mekenesse,
Both men and wyves,
Til ye come into Conscience,
That Crist wite the sothe 3630
That ye loven oure Lord God
Levest of alle thynges,
And thanne youre neghebores next
In none wise apeire,
Other wise than thow woldest
He wroughte to thiselve.
"And so boweth forth by a brook,
Beth-buxom-of-speche,
Til he fynden a ford,
Youre-fadres-honoureth, 3640
_Honora patrem et matrem, etc._
Wadeth in that water,
{112}
And wasshe yow wel therinne,
And ye shul lepe the lightloker
Al youre lif tyme;
And so shaltow se Swere-noght,-
But-if-it-be-for-nede,-
And-nameliche-on-ydel-
The-name-of-God-almyghty.
"Thanne shaltow come by a croft, 3650
But come thow noght therinne;
That croft hatte Coveite-noght-
Mennes-catel-ne-hire-wyves,-
Ne-noon-of-hire-servauntz-
That-noyen-hem-myghte;
Loke ye breke no bowes there,
But if it be youre owene.
"Two stokkes ther stondeth,
Ac stynte ye noght there,
Thei highte Stele-noght and Sle-noght, 3660
Strik forth by bothe,
And leve hem on thi lift half,
And loke noght therafter,
And hold wel thyn hali-day
Heighe til even.
"Thanne shaltow blenche at a bergh,
Bere-no-fals-witnesse,
He is frythed in with floryns
And othere fees manye;
Loke thow plukke no plaunte there, 3670
For peril of thi soule;
Thanne shul ye see Seye-sooth,-
So-it-be-to-doone,-
In-good-manere,-ellis-noght-
For-no-mannes-biddyng.
"Thanne shaltow come to a court
{113}
As cler as the sonne;
The moot is of Mercy
The manoir aboute,
And alle the walles ben of Wit, 3680
To holden Wil oute,
And kerneled wit Cristendom,
Mankynde to save,
Botrased with Bileef-so,-
Or-thow-beest-noght-saved.
"And alle the houses ben hiled,
Halles and chambres,
With no leed but with love,
And lowe speche as bretheren;
The brugg is of Bidde-wel,- 3690
The-bet-may-thow-spede;
Ech piler is of penaunce,
Of preieres to seyntes;
Of almes-dedes are the hokes
That the gates hangen on.
"Grace hatte the gatewarde,
A good man for sothe;
His man hatte Amende-yow,
For many men hym knoweth;
Telleth hym this tokene, 3700
That Truthe wite the sothe;
'I perfourned the penaunce
That the preest me enjoyned,
And am ful sory for my synnes,
And so I shal evere,
Whan I thynke theron,
Theigh I were a pope.'
"Biddeth Amende-yow meke hym
Til his maister ones,
To wayven up the wiket 3710
{114}
That the womman shette,
Tho Adam and Eve
Eten apples un-rosted.
_Per Evam cunctis clausa est, et per
Mariam virginem patefacta est._
"For he hath the keye and the cliket,
Though the kyng slepe.
And if grace graunte thee
To go in this wise,
Thow shalt see in thiselve 3720
Truthe in thyn herte,
In a cheyne of charité
As thow a child were,
To suffren hym and segge noght
Ayein thi sires wille.
"And be war thanne of Wrathe-thee,
That is a wikked sherewe;
He hath envye to hym
That in thyn herte sitteth,
And poketh forth pride 3730
To preise thiselven.
The boldnesse of thi bienfetes
Maketh thee blynd thanne;
And thanne worstow dryven out as dew,
And the dore closed,
Keyed and cliketted,
To kepe thee withouten;
Happily an hundred wynter
Er thow eft entre.
Thus myghtestow lesen his love, 3740
To lete wel by thiselve,
And nevere happily eft entre,
But grace thow have.
"And ther are seven sustren
{115}
That serven Truthe evere,
And arn porters of the posternes
That to the place longeth.
"That oon hatte Abstinence,
And Humilité another;
Charité and Chastité 3750
Ben hise chief maydenes;
Pacience and Pees
Muche peple thei helpeth;
Largenesse the lady,
She let in ful manye,
Heo hath holpe a thousand out
Of the develes punfolde;
And who is sib to thise sevene,
So me God helpe!
He is wonderly welcome, 3760
And faire underfongen.
And but if ye be sibbe
To some of thise sevene,
It is ful hard, by myn heed!" quod Piers,
"For any of yow alle
To geten in-going at any gate there,
But grace be the moore."
"Now by Crist!" quod a kutte-purs
"I have no kyn there."
"Nor I," quod an ape-ward, 3770
"By aught that I kan knowe."
"Wite God!" quod a wafrestere,
"Wiste I this for sothe,
Sholde I nevere ferther a foot,
For no freres prechyng."
"Yis," quod Piers the Plowman,
And poked hem alle to goode,
"Mercy is a maiden there
{116}
Hath myght over alle;
And she is sib to alle synfulle, 3780
And hire sone also,
And thorugh the help of hem two
Hope thow noon oother,
Thow myght gete grace there,
So thow go bi-tyme."
"Bi seint Poul!" quod a pardoner,
"Peraventure I be noght knowe there;
I wol go fecche my box with my brevettes,
And a bulle with bisshopes lettres."
"By Crist!" quod a commune womman,
"Thi compaignie wol I folwe;
Thow shalt seye I am thi suster,
I ne woot where thei bicome." 3793
* * * * *
{117}
_Passus Sextus de Visione, ut supra._
"This were a wikkede wey, 3794
But who so hadde a gyde,
That wolde folwen us ech a foot;"
Thus this folke hem mened.
Quod Perkyn the Plowman,
"By seint Peter of Rome!
I have an half acre to erie 3800
By the heighe weye;
Hadde I eryed this half acre,
And sowen it after,
I wolde wende with yow,
And the wey teche."
"This were a long lettyng,"
Quod a lady in scleyre,
"What sholde we wommen
Werche the while?"
"Somme shul sowe the sak," quod Piers, 3810
"For shedyng of the whete;
And ye, lovely ladies,
With youre longe fyngres,
That ye have silk and sandel
To sowe, whan tyme is;
Chesibles for chapeleyns,
Chirches to honoure.
{118}
"Wyves and widewes,
Wolle and flex spynneth;
Maketh cloth, I counseille yow, 3820
And kenneth so youre doughtres;
The nedy and the naked,
Nymeth hede how thei liggeth,
And casteth hem clothes,
For so comaundeth Truthe.
For I shal leven hem liflode,
But if the lond faille,
Flesshe and breed bothe
To riche and to poore,
As long as I lyve, 3830
For the Lordes love of hevene;
And alle manere of men
That thorugh mete and drynke libbeth,
Helpeth hym to werche wightliche,
That wynneth youre foode."
"By Crist!" quod a knyght thoo,
"He kenneth us the beste;
Ac on the teme, trewely,
Taught was I nevere;
But kenne me," quod the knyght, 3840
"And by Crist I wole assaye!"
"By seint Poul!" quod Perkyn,
"Ye profre yow so faire,
That I shal swynke and swete,
And sowe for us bothe,
And othere labours do for thi love
Al my lif tyme,
In covenaunt that thow kepe
Holy kirke and myselve
Fro wastours and fro wikked men 3850
That this world destruyeth.
{119}
And go hunte hardiliche
To hares and to foxes,
To bores and to brokkes
That breken doun myne hegges;
And so affaite thi faucons
Wilde foweles to kille;
For swiche cometh to my croft,
And croppeth my whete."
Curteisly the knyght thanne 3860
Comsed thise wordes;
"By my power, Piers!" quod he,
"I plighte thee my trouthe,
To fulfille this forwarde,
Though I fighte sholde;
Als longe as I lyve
I shal thee mayntene."
"Ye, and yet a point," quod Piers,
"I preye yow of moore,
Loke ye tene no tenaunt, 3870
But Truthe wole assente;
And though ye mowe amercy hem,
Lat mercy be taxour,
And mekenesse thi maister,
Maugree Medes chekes.
And though povere men profre yow
Presentes and giftes,
Nyme it noght, an aventure
Ye mowe it noght deserve;
For thow shalt yelde it ayein 3880
At one yeres tyme,
In a ful perilous place,
Purgatorie it hatte.
"And mys-bede noght thi bonde-men,
The bettre may thow spede;
{120}
Though he be thyn underlyng here,
Wel may happe in hevene
That he worth worthier set,
And with moore blisse.
_Amice, ascende superius._ 3890
For in charnel at chirche
Cherles ben yvel to knowe,
Or a knyght from a knave there,
Knowe this in thyn herte.
And that thow be trewe of thi tonge,
And tales that thow hatie,
But if thei ben of wisdom or of wit
Thi werkmen to chaste.
Hold with none harlotes,
Ne here noght hir tales, 3900
And namely at the mete
Swiche men eschuwe;
For it ben the develes disours,
I do the to understonde."
"I assente, by seint Jame!"
Seide the knyght thanne,
"For to werche by thi wordes
The while my lif dureth."
"And I shal apparaille me," quod Perkyn,
"In pilgrymes wise, 3910
And wende with yow I wile,
Til we fynde Truthe;
And caste on my clothes
Y-clouted and hole,
My cokeres and my coffes,
For cold of my nailes;
And hange myn hoper at myn hals
In stede of a scryppe.
A busshel of bred corn
{121}
Brynge me therinne; 3920
For I wol sowe it myself,
And sithenes wol I wende
To pilgrymage, as palmeres doon,
Pardon for to have.
And who so helpeth me to erie
And sowen here er I wende,
Shal have leve, by oure Lorde!
To lese here in hervest,
And make hem murie thermyd,
Maugree who so bi-gruccheth it. 3930
And alle kynne crafty-men,
That konne lyven in truthe,
I shal fynden hem fode,
That feithfulliche libbeth.
"Save Jagge the jogelour,
And Jonette of the stuwes,
And Danyel the dees-pleyere,
And Denote the baude,
And frere the faitour,
And folk of hire ordre, 3940
And Robyn the ribaudour
For hise rusty wordes.
Truthe tolde me ones,
And bad me telle it after,
_Deleantur de libro viventium_,
I sholde noght dele with hem,
For holy chirche is hote of hem
No tithe to take;
_Qui cum justis non scribantur_;
They ben ascaped good aventure, 3950
God hem amende!"
Dame Werch-whan-tyme-is
Piers wif highte;
{122}
His doughter highte Do-right-so,-
Or-thi-dame-shal-thee-bete;
His sone highte Suffre-thi-sovereyns-
To-haven-hir-wille,-
Deme-hem-noght,-for-if-thow-doost,-
Thow-shalt-it-deere-abugge.
Lat God y-worthe with al, 3960
For so his word techeth;
For now I am old and hoor,
And have of myn owene,
To penaunce and to pilgrimage
I wol passe with thise othere.
"For-thi I wole er I wende
Do write my biqueste,
_In Dei nomine, Amen_,
I make it myselve;
He shal have my soule, 3970
That best hath deserved it;
And fro the fend it defende,
For so I bileve,
Til I come to hise acountes,
As my Credo me telleth,
To have a relees and a remission,
On that rental I leve.
"The kirke shal have my caroyne,
And kepe my bones;
For of my corn and catel 3980
She craved the tithe;
I paide it ful prestly,
For peril of my soule.
For-thi is he holden I hope
To have me in his masse,
And mengen in his memorie
Amonges alle cristene.
{123}
"My wif shal have of that I wan
With truthe, and na-moore,
And dele among my doughtres, 3990
And my deere children;
For though I deye to day,
My dettes are quyte;
I bar hom that I borwed,
Er I to bedde yede.
"And with the residue and the remenaunt,
By the Rode of Lukes!
I wol worshipe therwith
Truthe by my lyve,
And ben his pilgrym atte plow, 4000
For povere mennes sake.
My plow-foot shall be my pikstaf,
And picche a-two the rotes,
And helpe my cultour to kerve
And clense the furwes."
Now is Perkyn and hise pilgrimes
To the plow faren;
To erie his half acre
Holpen hym manye;
Dikeres and delveres 4010
Digged up the balkes.
Therwith was Perkyn a-payed,
And preised hem faste.
Othere werkmen ther were
That wroghten ful yerne;
Ech man in his manere
Made hymself to doone,
And somme to plese Perkyn
Piked up the wedes.
At heigh prime Piers 4020
Leet the plowgh stonde,
{124}
To over-sen hem hymself,
And who so best wroghte
He sholde be hired therafter,
Whan hervest tyme come.
And thanne seten somme,
And songen atte nale,
And holpen ere this half acre
With "How, trolly lolly."
"Now, by the peril of my soule!" quod Piers, 4030
All in pure tene,
"But ye arise the rather
And rape yow to werche,
Shal no greyn that groweth
Glade yow at nede,
And though ye deye for doel,
The devel have that reccheth."
Tho were faitours a-fered,
And feyned hem blynde;
Somme leide hir legges a-liry, 4040
As swiche losels konneth,
And made hir mone to Piers,
And preide hym of grace;
"For we have no lymes to laboure with,
Lord, y-graced be the;
Ac we preie for yow, Piers,
And for youre plowgh bothe,
That God of his grace
Youre greyn multiplie,
And yelde yow for youre almesse 4050
That ye gyve us here;
For we may noght swynke ne swete,
Swich siknesse us eyleth."
"If it be sooth," quod Piers, "that ye seyn,
I shal it soone aspie.
{125}
Ye ben wastours, I woot wel,
And Truthe woot the sothe;
And I am his olde hyne,
And highte hym to warne,
Whiche thei were in this world 4060
Hise werkmen apeired.
Ye wasten that men wynnen
With travaille and with tene;
Ac Truthe shal teche yow
His teme to dryve,
Or ye shul eten barley breed,
And of the broke drynke.
"But if he be blynd or broke-legged,
Or bolted with irens,
He shall ete whete breed, 4070
And drynke with myselve,
Til God of his goodnesse
Amendement hym sende.
Ac ye myghte travaille, as Truthe wolde,
And take mete and hyre,
To kepe kyen in the feld,
The corn fro the beestes,
Diken or delven,
Or dyngen upon sheves,
Or helpe make morter, 4080
Or bere muk a-feld.
"In lecherie and in losengerie
Ye lyven, and in sleuthe;
And al is thorugh suffraunce,
That vengeaunce yow ne taketh.
"Ac ancres and heremites
That eten noght but at nones,
And na-moore er the morwe,
Myn almesse shul thei have,
{126}
And of catel to kepe hem with, 4090
That han cloistres and chirches.
"Ac Robert Renaboute
Shal noght have of myne,
Ne postles, but thei preche konne
And have power of the bisshope;
Thei shul have payn and potage,
And make hemself at ese,
For it is an unreasonable religion
That hath right noght of certein."
And thanne gan Wastour to wrathen hym, 4100
And wolde have y-foughte;
And to Piers the Plowman
He profrede his glove;
A bretoner, a braggere,
A-bosted Piers als,
And bad hym go pissen with his plowgh,
"For-pynede sherewe!
Wiltow or neltow,
We wol have oure wille
Of thi flour and of thi flesshe, 4110
Fecche whanne us liketh;
And maken us murye thermyde,
Maugree thi chekes."
Thanne Piers the Plowman
Pleyned hym to the knyghte,
To kepen hym as covenaunt was
Fro cursede sherewes,
And fro thise wastours wolves-kynnes
That maketh the world deere;
"For tho wasten and wynnen noght, 4120
And that ilke while
Worth nevere plentee among the peple,
{127}
The while my plowgh liggeth."
Curteisly the knyght thanne,
As his kynde wolde,
Warnede Wastour,
And wissed hym bettre,
"Or thow shalt abigge by the lawe,
By the ordre that I bere!"
"I was noght wont to werche," quod Wastour, 4130
"And now wol I noght bigynne;"
And leet light of the lawe,
And lasse of the knyghte;
And sette Piers at a pese,
And his plowgh bothe;
And manaced Piers and his men,
If thei mette eft soone.
"Now, by the peril of my soule!" quod Piers,
"I shal apeire yow alle;"
And houped after Hunger, 4140
That herde hym at the firste,
"A-wreke me of thise wastours," quod he,
"That this world shendeth."
Hunger in haste thoo
Hente Wastour by the wombe,
And wrong him so by the wombe,
That bothe hise eighen watrede.
He buffeted the bretoner
Aboute the chekes,
That he loked lik a lanterne 4150
Al his lif after.
He bette hem so bothe,
He brast ner hire guttes;
Ne hadde Piers with a pese loof
{128}
Preyed Hunger to cesse,
They hadde be dolven,
Ne deme thow noon oother.
"Suffre hem lyve," he seide,
"And lat hem ete with hogges,
Or ellis benes or bren 4160
Y-baken togideres,
Or ellis melk and mene ale;"
Thus preied Piers for hem.
Faitours for fere herof
Flowen into bernes,
And flapten on with flailes
Fro morwe til even;
That Hunger was noght so hardy
On hem for to loke,
For a potful of peses 4170
That Piers hadde y-maked.
An heep of heremytes
Henten hem spades,
And kitten hir copes,
And courtepies hem maked,
And wente as werkmen
With spades and with shoveles
And dolven and dikeden,
To dryve awey hunger.
Blynde and bed-reden 4180
Were bootned a thousande,
That seten to begge silver,
Soone were thei heeled;
For that was bake for bayarde,
Was boote for many hungry;
And many a beggere for benes
Buxum was to swynke;
And eche a povere man wel a-paied
{129}
To have pesen for his hyre,
And what Piers preide hem to do, 4190
As prest as a sperhauk;
And therof was Piers proud,
And putte hem to werke,
And yaf hem mete as he myghte aforthe,
And mesurable hyre.
Thanne had Piers pité,
And preide Hunger to wende
Hoom unto his owene yerd,
And holden hym there;
"For I am wel a-wroke 4200
Of wastours, thorugh thy myghte.
Ac I preie thee, er thow passe,"
Quod Piers to Hunger,
"Of beggeris and of bidderis
What best be to doone.
For I woot wel, be thow went,
Thei wol werche ful ille;
For meschief it maketh
Thei be so meke nouthe,
And for defaute of hire foode 4210
This folk is at my wille.
"Thei are my blody bretheren," quod Piers,
"For God boughte us alle.
Truthe taughte me ones
To loven hem echone;
And to helpen hem of alle thyng
Ay as hem nedeth.
And now wolde I wite of thee
What were the beste;
And how I myghte a-maistren hem, 4220
And make hem to werche."
{130}
"Here now," quod Hunger,
"And hoold it for a wisdom;
Bolde beggeris and bigge
That mowe hir breed bi-swynke,
With houndes breed and horse breed
Hoold up hir hertes;
A-bate hem with benes,
For bollynge of hir wombes;
And if the gomes grucche, 4230
Bidde hem go swynke,
And he shal soupe swetter
Whan he it hath deserved.
"And if thow fynde any freke
That fortune hath apeired,
Or any manere false men,
Fonde thow swiche to knowe;
Conforte hym with thi catel,
For Cristes love of hevene;
Love hem and leve hem, 4240
So lawe of God techeth,
_Alter alterius onera portare._
"And alle manere of men
That thow myght aspie,
That nedy ben and noughty,
Help hem with thi goodes;
Love hem and lakke hem noght,
Lat God take the vengeaunce;
Theigh thei doon yvele,
Lat God y-worthe. 4250
_Mihi vindictam, et ego retribuam._
"And if thow wilt be gracious to God,
Do as the gospel techeth,
And bi-love thee amonges lewed men,
So shaltow lacche grace;
{131}
_Facite vos amicos de Mammone iniquitatis._" =
"I wolde noght greve God," quod Piers,
"For al the good on grounde.
Mighte I synne-lees do as thow seist?" 4260
Seide Piers thanne.
"Ye, I bi-hote thee," quod Hunger,
"Or ellis the Bible lieth;
Go to Genesis the geaunt,
The engendrour of us alle:
_In sudore_ and swynk
Thow shalt thi mete tilie,
And laboure for thi liflode,
And so oure Lorde highte.
And Sapience seith the same, 4270
I seigh it in the Bible,
_Piger præ frigore_
No feeld nolde tilie,
And therfore he shal begge and bidde,
And no man bete his hunger.
"Mathew with mannes face
Mouthed thise wordes,
That _servus nequam_ hadde a mnam,
And for he wolde noght chaffare,
He hadde maugree of his maister 4280
Evere moore after,
And by-nam hym his mnam,
For he ne wolde werche,
And yaf that mnam to hym
That ten mnames hadde;
And with that he seide,
That holy chirche it herde,
He that hath shal have
And helpe there it nedeth;
{132}
And he that noght hath shal noght have, 4290
And no man hym helpe,
And that he weneth wel to have
I wole it hym bi-reve.
Kynde wit wolde
That ech a wight wroghte,
Or in dikynge or in delvynge,
Or travaillynge in preieres;
Contemplatif lif or actif lif
Crist wolde thei wroghte.
The Sauter seith in the Psalme 4300
Of _Beati omnes_,
The freke that fedeth hymself
With his feithful labour,
He is blessed by the book
In body and in soule."
_Labores manuum tuarum, etc._
"Yet I preie yow," quod Piers,
"_Par charité_, and ye konne
Any leef of leche-craft,
Lere it me, my deere; 4310
For some of my servauntz,
And myself bothe,
Of al a wike werche noght,
So oure wombe aketh."
"I woot wel," quod Hunger,
"What siknesse yow eyleth;
Ye han manged over muche,
And that maketh yow grone.
Ac I hote thee," quod Hunger,
"As thow thyn hele wilnest, 4320
That thow drynke no day
Er thow dyne som what.
Ete noght, I hote thee,
{133}
Er hunger thee take,
And sende thee of his sauce
To savore with thi lippes;
And keep som til soper-tyme,
And sitte noght to longe,
And rys up er appetit
Have eten his fille. 4330
Lat noght sire Surfet
Sitten at thi borde.
Leve hym noght, for he is lecherous,
And likerous of tunge,
And after many maner metes
His mawe is a-fyngred.
"And if thow diete thee thus,
I dar legge myne eris,
That Phisik shal hise furred hodes
For his fode selle, 4340
And his cloke of Calabre,
With alle the knappes of golde,
And be fayn, by my feith!
His phisik to lete,
And lerne to laboure with lond,
For liflode is swete.
For murthereris are manye leches,
Lord hem amende!
They do men deye thorugh hir drynkes,
Er destynee it wolde." 4350
"By seint Poul!" quod Piers,
"Thise arn profitable wordes!
Wend now, Hunger, whan thow wolt,
That wel be thow evere!
For this is a lovely lesson,
Lord it thee for-yelde!"
"Bi-hote God!" quod Hunger,
{134}
"Hennes ne wole I wende,
Til I have dyned bi this day,
And y-dronke bothe." 4360
"I have no peny," quod Piers,
"Pulettes to bugge,
Ne neither gees ne grys,
But two grene cheses,
A fewe cruddes and creme,
And an haver cake,
And two loves of benes and bran
Y-bake for my fauntes;
And yet I seye, by my soule!
I have no salt bacon, 4370
Ne no cokeney, by Crist!
Coloppes for to maken.
"Ac I have percile and porettes,
And manye cole plauntes,
And ek a cow and a calf,
And a cart mare
To drawe a-feld my donge,
The while the droghte lasteth;
And by this liflode we mote lyve
Til Lammesse tyme. 4380
And by that, I hope to have
Hervest in my crofte,
And thanne may I dighte thi dyner,
As me deere liketh."
Al the povere peple tho
Pescoddes fetten,
Benes and baken apples
Thei broghte in hir lappes,
Chibolles and chervelles,
And ripe chiries manye, 4390
And profrede Piers this present
{135}
To plese with Hunger.
Al Hunger eet in haste,
And axed after moore.
Thanne povere folk, for fere,
Fedden Hunger yerne,
With grene poret and pesen,
To poisone hym thei thoghte.
By that it neghed neer hervest,
And newe corn cam to chepyng; 4400
Thanne was folk fayn,
And fedde Hunger with the beste,
With goode ale, as Gloton taghte,
And garte Hunger go slepe.
And tho wolde Wastour noght werche,
But wandren aboute,
Ne no beggere ete breed
That benes inne were,
But of coket and cler-matyn,
Or ellis of clene whete; 4410
Ne noon halfpeny ale
In none wise drynke,
But of the beste and of the brunneste
That in burghe is to selle.
Laborers that have no land
To lyve on but hire handes,
Deyned noght to dyne a day
Nyght-olde wortes;
May no peny ale hem paye,
Ne no pece of bacone, 4420
But if it be fresshe flessh outher fisshe,
Fryed outher y-bake,
And that _chaud_ and _plus chaud_,
For chillynge of hir mawe;
And but if he be heighliche hyred;
{136}
Ellis wole he chide,
And that he was werkman wroght
Waille the tyme,
Ayeins Catons counseil
Comseth he to jangle. 4430
_Paupertatis onus patienter ferre memento._ =
He greveth hym ageyn God,
And gruccheth ageyn Reson,
And thanne corseth he the kyng,
And al his counseil after,
Swiche lawes to loke
Laborers to greve.
Ac whiles Hunger was hir maister,
Ther wolde noon of hem chide, 4440
Ne stryven ayeins his statut,
So sterneliche he loked.
Ac I warne yow, werkmen,
Wynneth whil ye mowe,
For Hunger hiderward
Hasteth hym faste.
He shal a-wake with water
Wastours to chaste;
Er fyve be fulfilled,
Swich famyn shal a-ryse, 4450
Thorugh flodes and thorugh foule wedres
Fruytes shul faille,
And so seide Saturne,
And sente yow to warne.
Whan ye se the sonne a-mys,
And two monkes heddes,
And a mayde have the maistrie,
And multiplie by eighte,
Thanne shal deeth with-drawe,
{137}
And derthe be justice, 4460
And Dawe the dykere
Dey
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