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This folk frayned hym furst fro wannes a come.
“Fram Synay,” a sayde, “ant fro the sepulcre of oure lord;
Bedleh[e]m ant Babelonye Y haue ysougwth bothe,
In Ermonye, in Alisaundre, in many othur plases.
Ye mowen se by my sygnes that sitteh[t] on my hatte
That Y haue walked ful wyde in wete ant in drye
Ant sought gode seyntus for my sowle hele.”
“Ac knowest thow hauȝt a corseynt that men calleth Trewthe?
Cowthest wissen vs the wey there the weye dwelleth?
“Nay, so me God helpe,” seyth the gome thenne,
“Y say nere palmare myt pyk ne wyth scrippe
Axen aftur hym ar now in this place.”
“Petur!” quad a plow[e]man ant potte forth his heued.
“Y knowe hym as kyndely as clerk doth ys bocus:
Conscyence kened me to his place,
Ant senes Y suyred hym to serue hym for euere,
Bothe to sowe ant to sette wyle Y swynke myghte.
I haue ben ys folwaere al this fourty wyntur,
Bothe ysowen ys seed, sewed his bestus,
Ant eke ykept ys corn, ycaryed hit to howse,
Ydyked ant ydolue, do that a highte,
Both wythinne ant wythouten ywayted ys profit.
There ys no laborer in this lordschepe that a loueth bettre,
For thow Y sey hit mysilf, Y serue hym to paye.
Y haue myn huyre of hym wel ant othurwyle more;
He ys the prestest payere that pore men yknoweth.
He wythhalt noen hew ys huyre that he ne hath hit at eue.
He ys as low as a lomb ant loueliche of speche.
Yf ye wilneth to wyte were this weye dwelleth,
Y schal wisse yow the way wel ryght to ys place.”

“Ye, leue Peres,” quod the pilegrimes ant profred hym huyre.
“Nay,” quad P[er]kyn the plowman, “by the perel of my sowle,
I nolde nat fong a ferthyng for seynt Thomas schryne:
Trewthe wold loue me the wers a long tyme aftur.
Ac ye wilne to wende, this ys the wey thedure.
Ye moten go thorw Mekenesse, bothe men ant wyues,
Tyl [ye] come into Conscyencie, Cryst wot the sothe,
That [ye] loueyen hym leuere than youre oune hertus,
Ant youre neyhebores nexst in none wyse apeyre
Othur wyse than thow wo[l]t a wroughte to thysilf.
Ant so boweth by a brok, Beth-buxum ys called,
Forto ye fynden a ford Youre-faderes-anhoureth.
Wadeth in at that watur ant wassche yow wel there
Ant ye schal lyue the lengur by a long tyme.
So schalt thow se Swere-nat-but-yf-yt-be-for-nede
Ant-namlyche-an-ydel-the-name-of-oure-lorde
Ant Holde-so-the-alyday-heye-tyl-eue.
Thenne schat þow come by a croft, but come þow nat thereinne:
The croft hatteth Coueyte-nat-mennes-catel-ne-wyues.
Brek nat a bow therof but yf hit be thyn oune.
To stokkus there standeth, ac stinte þow nat there:
They hatte Stele-nat-ne-sle-nat; stryk forth by bothe,
Lef hem on thy lift hond ant loke nat thereaftur.
Thenne schalt thow blenche at a berew Bere-no-false-wytnesse,
Ys frethyd in wyth florynes ant other feus monye:
Ploke thow plonte there for perel of thy soule!
Thenne schalt thow se Sey-soth-so-it-be-to-done-
Ac-in-no-manere-elles-nat-for-no-mannes-bydding.
Thenne schalt þow come to a court as clere as the sonne:
The mote ys of mercy the manere aboute,
Ant alle the walles of wyt to holden wel throute.
The carneles ben of confort, crystenmen to saue,
Ant boturased wyth baptewme to brynge men to heuene.
Alle the hous ben yheled, halles ant chaumbres,
Wyth no led but wyth loue that longeth to the place.
The toure there Trwthe ys hymsylf tyleth vp to the sonne.
A doth wyth the day sterre that hym dere licuth:
A may se in the mone wat alle men thenketh.
Wyth the lest word that a wil, the wynd ys aredy
To blowe or to be stille or to brethy softe,
Ant alle the water of thys world wolde in his gloue.
He hath fuyr wythouten flint ys foes to brenne.
Deth dar nat do thyng that he defendeth.
The forst for fere ys fayn to folwen ys wille.
Dar no stere steren hym ne steme ayeyn ys defense.
I haue no tome to telle how the tour ys ymaked:
Alle the wryghtus at Wyndelesore couthe wirche such an othur
Ne alle the masounes of this lound make there a spanne.
The bryge hatte Byde-wel-the-bet-may-the-spede.
Vch piler ys of penaunse, ypolsched ful smethe.
Grace hatte the gateward, a god man for s[o]the;
His man hatted Amende-yow; many man hym knoweth.
Telleth hym this tokene: “Trewthe wot the sothe:
Y parformed the penawnce the preste me enioynd;
Am ful sory of my synnes ant so schal Y euere
Wen Y thenke thereon, thowȝ Y were a pope.
Byddeth Amende-yow meken hym to ys mayster
Onus to wayuen vp the wycat that the wenche schutte
Tho Adam ant Eue heten ere bane.
For he hath the keye ant the clycat, thow the kyng slepe,
Ant hif Grace graunte the to go in this wyse,
Thou schalt yse Trewthe hymsylf, wolle sitten in thyn herte
Ant leren the for to loue ant ys lawe holde.
Ac be ywar thenne of Wrath-the-nat, that wyked schrewe,
For he hath enuye tho hym that in thyn herte sitteth,
Ant poketh forth pruyde to preyse thyselue.
The boldenesse of thy benfetus maketh the blynd thenne,
Ant so wo[r]st thow dryue out as deugh ant dore yclosed,
Ykayed ant yclecaked to kepe the wythouten,
Ant happely an hundret wyntur ar th[ou] efft entre.
Thus myght thow lesen ys loue in loking of a wenche,
Ac geten hit ayeyn thorw grace ac thorw no gyft elles.”