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The Vision of William concerning Piers the Plowman

together with Vita de Dowel, Dobet, et Dobest, Secundum Wit et Resoun, by William Langland (About 1362-1380 A.D.): Edited from numerous manuscripts, with prefaces, notes, and a glossary, by the Rev. Walter W. Skeat ... In four parts

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INUIDIA.
  
  
  
  
 VI. 
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INUIDIA.

Enuye with heuy herte asked after scrifte,
And carefullich mea culpa he comsed to shewe.
He was as pale as a pelet in þe palsye he semed,
And clothed in a caurimaury I couthe it nouȝte discreue;
In kirtel and kourteby and a knyf bi his syde,
Of a freres frokke were þe forsleues.
And as a leke hadde yleye longe in þe sonne,
So loked he with lene chekes lourynge foule.
His body was to-bolle for wratthe þat he bote his lippes,
And wryngynge he ȝede with þe fiste to wreke hymself he þouȝte
With werkes or with wordes whan he seighe his tyme.
Eche a worde þat he warpe was of an Addres tonge,
Of chydynge and of chalangynge was his chief lyflode,
With bakbitynge and bismer and beryng of fals witnesse;
Þis was al his curteisye where þat euere he shewed hym.
“I wolde ben yshryue,” quod þis schrewe “and I for shame durst;
I wolde be gladder, bi god þat gybbe had meschaunce,

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Than þouȝe I had þis woke ywonne a weye of essex chese.
I haue a neighbore neyȝe me I haue ennuyed hym ofte,
And lowen on hym to lordes to don hym lese his siluer,
And made his frendes ben his foon thorw my false tonge;
His grace and his good happes greueth me ful sore.
Bitwene many and many I make debate ofte,
Þat bothe lyf and lyme is lost þorw my speche.
And whan I mete him in market þat I moste hate,
I hailse hym hendeliche as I his frende were;
For he is douȝtier þan I I dar do non other.
Ac hadde I maystrye and myȝte god wote my wille!
And whan I come to þe kirke and sholde knele to þe Rode,
And preye for þe pople as þe prest techeth,
For pilgrimes and for palmers for alle þe poeple after,
Þanne I crye on my knees þat cryste ȝif hem sorwe
Þat bar[en] awey my bolle and my broke schete.
Awey fro þe auter þanne turne I myn eyghen,
And biholde how Eleyne hath a newe cote;
I wisshe þanne it were myne and al þe webbe after.
And of mennes lesynge I laughe þat liketh myn herte;
And for her wynnynge I wepe and waille þe tyme,

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And deme þat hij don ille þere I do wel worse;
Who-so vndernymeth me here-of I hate hym dedly after.
I wolde þat vche a wyght were my knaue,
For who-so hath more þan I þat angreth me sore.
And þus I lyue louelees lyke a luther dogge,
That al my body bolneth for bitter of my galle.
I myȝte nouȝte eet many ȝeres as a man ouȝte,
For enuye and yuel wille is yuel to defye;
May no sugre ne swete þinge asswage my swellynge,
Ne no diapenidion dryue it fro myne herte,
Ne noyther schrifte ne shame but ho-so schrape my mawe?”
“Ȝus, redili,” quod repentaunce and radde hym to þe beste,
“Sorwe of synnes is sauacioun of soules.”
“I am sori,” quod þat segge “I am but selde other,
And þat maketh me þus megre for I ne may me venge.
Amonges Burgeyses haue I be dwellynge At Londoun,
And gert bakbitinge be a brocoure to blame mennes ware.
Whan he solde and I nouȝte þanne was I redy
To lye and to loure on my neighbore and to lakke his chaffare.

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I wil amende þis, ȝif I may þorw myȝte of god almyȝty.”