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The fyrstë word that she gan seye,
Nature, off mercy gan hyr preye,
And with humble cher & fface
She confessede hyr trespace;
And to hyr sayde most mekëly,
‘Ma dame,’ quod she, ‘ful folyly
I have govérnyd me to yow,
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And ful vngoodly spokë now,
Wher-off I repentë sore.
And certys, I ne shal no more
Offendë yow in no manere,
Nouther in spechë nor in chere;
So that, of mercy & pyte,
Ye wyl as now forgyve yt me,
That I ha don al outterly;
And that ye wyl, so gracyously,
Off alle that euere me asterte,
No thyng reservyn in your herte,
Only off your benygnë grace,
But clene forgetë my trespace.’
Grace Dieu answereth:
‘Certys,’ quod Gracë dieu ryht tho,
‘I wyl gladly that yt be so;
But taketh hed of that I seye,
In peyne of lesyng of your eye,
That ye neuere, in al your lyff,
Be nat hardy for to stryve
A-geyn my workys in no wyse;
Nor that ye no thyng despyse
What-euere I do, for al your wyt;
ffor I ne wyl nat suffren yt,
But werke alway (as yt ys skyl)
With-outë yow, affter my wyl.’
And whan thys parlement was do,
As ye han herd, atwen hem two,
And Moyses ek dyned hadde
With hys seruantys good & badde,
He made A-noon (thys, the cheff,)
ffor to departë the releff:
Hys Awmener yt hadde in charge,
And bad to yive yt forth ful large
To pylgrymes, wych day be day
Travayllede forth vp-on her way;
Off the wych, as thouhtë me
Ther was gret noumbre & plente.
But, or that he gaff any thyng
Off the releff in partyng
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Vn-to any maner whyht,
Out off a chaumbre, a-noon ryht,
I sawh two ladyes kome yfere,
Wych, of port & of manere
And off wommanly plesaunce,
Hadden ful gret suffysaunce;
And curteysly amyd the pres,
Atwen the peple and Moyses,
They putten hem, thys ylkë two.
And she that wente a-forn ryht tho,
(As yt sempte vn-to my wyt),
Held in hyr hand a lytel wryt
Vnclosyd vn-to my reward,
As ye shall heryn affterward,
Yiff ye lyst a whylë dwelle.
But off the tother I shal fyrst telle,
Wych in hyr hond, (as I be-helde
The samë tyme) an hamer helde.
And in hyr other hand with-al,
She held a yerde, sclender & smal,
To skouren chyldern, & chastyse.
And also,—as I shal devyse,
Vn-to my syht a thyng vnkouth,—
She held a bysme in hyr mouth
Atwyxe hyr teth, (yt ys no fayl,)
Wher-off I haddë gret mervayl.
Yet she yt helde so cvrteysly
That no man woldë deme ther-by
That she was neuere the lassë wys.
But yiff a-nother (to my devys,)
Hadde holde yt so as dydë she,
Men wolde ha sayd, she haddë be
Out of hyr wyt, or ellys falle
In-to rage. And fyrst of alle
Thys lady wysly dyde abrayde
To pylgrymes, & thus she sayde:
(The bysme lette hyr neueradel
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But that she myght spekë wel:)
‘Syrs,’ quod she, ‘I wot ryht wel
That ye consydren euerydel
My gouernaunce & myn aray.
But I wot wel, (yt ys no nay,)
Ye nat aduerten in substaunce
Touchynge al my gouernaunce.
I trowe ye kan nat al espye
What thyng yt doth sygnefye.
But, kometh ner to me echon,
And I shal declare A-noon
To yow the maner by & by,
And yt exponë feythfully,
Off the trouthe my sylff taquyte.
‘I am the ffayre, louyd but lyte;
Off my port, demur And sad,
Debonayre, & gretly drad
Off felë folkys that me se.
And trew[e]ly I am ek she
Now-a-dayës lytel preysyd,
And yet ful worthy to be reysed
Off prys, to folkys that be dygne;
Rygerous & ful benygne
To allë that be vertuous;
Happy also, and ryht Ewrous,
The gracyouse, of smal plesaunce,
I am callyd Dame Penaunce.
The cheff wardeyn (who lyst se,)
Off thylkë ylë most secre;
The wych (who espyë kan,)
Ys yhyd with-Inne a man.
I make yt clene (I yow ensure,)
Off allë fylthe & al ordure,
Or ther-yn entre any whyht.
Therfore I bere, off verray ryht,
Thys bysme; Thys hamer, ek ther-to,
And thys lytel yerde also,
On al felthës to be wreke.
With thys hamer I brose & breke,
Lyk to my condycyoun
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‘With anguissh and contricïoun,
Hertys that be obstynat
With synnës olde, ek indurat,
And fulfyllyd with vnclennesse,
I do alway my bysynesse
To make hem souple, nesshe, and tendre,
And off her gretë bollyng, sclender;
Also for to wake and wepe,
Sorwe & pleyne with syhës depe,
ffor ther synnës waymentynge.
And as a Chyldë with betynge
By exaumple (as ye se offte,)
Maketh his hardë appyl soffte
With offtë smytyng off hys ffyst,
Tyl yt be tendre as hym lyst,
And that the lycour ysseth oute,
Ryght so fare I, yt ys no doute:
I smytë hertys vp & doun,
And make hem, by contrycïoun,
Wyth saltë terys (thys the cas,)
To sorwe, crye, & seyn, allas
That they euere dyde Amys!
Ye shal yt fynde, & thus yt ys,
Off ther trespácys they repente,
And seyn, in al ther beste entente,
‘A, Lord God! now, off thy grace,
How shal I han off my trespace
Allegëment, with-outë the,
But thow graunte, off thy pyte,
That I may, al outterly,
Off my Gyltës ha mercy,
So that I do no mor Amys?
Now, goodë Lord, thow grauntë thys!’
Thus I maken hem cryen offte.
‘And with thys hamer I madë soffte
Seyn Petrys herte, & yt to-brak,
That yt wente al vn-to wrak,
Wych ffyrst was hard as any ston.
But I made yt nesshe A-noon
Whan he hys mayster fyrst forsook.
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‘But whan that I the hamer took,
I smet hym so with répentaunce,
And made hym nesshë with penaunce,
That the Iews, off hys wepyng
Yssede out in cómpleynyng
Of verray sorwe & bytternesse,
He felt ther-off so gret dystresse
In hys greuous hertly peyne.
‘And also Mary Mawgdeleyne,
With thys hamer I smot so
That hyr herte I rooff a-two,
Wych was ful hard with synnës old.
But with strokys manyfold
I made hyr tendre, (yt ys no doute,)
That the terys yssede oute,
Out off hyr brest, so gret plente,
That men myghte the lycour se
By hyr chekys renne a-down
Off verray sorwe, so gret foysown,
That, in hyr bytter sorwës kene,
She was wasshe with-al so clene,
And so inly purefyëd,
That ther was no felthe espyed
Off synne with-Inne hyr tendre herte.
ffor, whan the bytter terys smerte
Off hyr wepyng wer Ronnë down
Thorgh sorwe & gret contrycïoun,
I took vn-to hem so gret kepe,
That I hem gadrede on an hepe,
That ordure lefftë noon be-hynde.
And I to-gydre dyde ham bynde—
Al that euere they wrouhte a-wrong,—
And make ther-off a lyë strong,
That ther-with-al (I yow ensure,)
I wasshe a-way al ordure.
ffor who so lyst consydre & se,
So gret a synnë may non be,
But that the lye off répentyng
Doth yt a-way in wasshyng,
And maketh yt clene euerydel,
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‘Yiff yt ther-in be wasshë wel.
And for thys skyle, in my wasshyng,
I am vn-to the myghty kyng
Callyd sothly the ‘lavendere,’
And also ek hys ‘chaumberere,’
In thys offyces bothë two,
‘Now vnderstondeth ek also,
That thys hamer I ber with me
ffor thys skyle, as ye shal se,
Yt fareth, by a synful man,
(Who so vnderstondë kan,)
As by A Pot (in sothfastnesse)
That ys ful of vnclennesse,
Verray stynkyng & horryble,
And to smellë ful odyble,
Wych may nat wel devoyded be,
ffor-as-myche (as ye wel se)
The fylthe ys hardyd so with-Inne,
That yt wyl not lyhtly twynne,—
Off old gadryng ful indurat,
And in maner obstynat,—
To be made clene in any wyse.
But than anoon I kan devyse
Myn hamer myghtly tavale,
And breke the pot in pecys smale;
And on the felthë to be wreke;
On smalë sherdys I it breke.
‘And fyrst off allë I begynne
To drawe the felthë hyd with-Inne
Out, to make yt shede a-brood,
Wych with-Inne so long a-bood,
And al the ordure ek with-al.
And yiff I broke yt nat so smal
On pecys vp-on euery syde,
The fylthe with-Innë wolde abyde,
And mor & mor ay wexyn hard.
‘Now vnderstond, & hath reward
To thys doctryne & thys lesson
Touchyng verray contrycioun,
Ye that desyre of herte & thought
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‘To lerne yt, & for-gete yt nouht.
Thynketh, ye folkys that be wyse,
That yt doth nat ynowh suffyse
A man, in Groos (as ye shal lere,)
To gadre hys synnës all yffere;
But, lyk the pot, he most hem breke,
And no thyng in the asshes reke.
I mene as thus: conceyveth al,
Thogh that a pot be brokë smal
On sherdys & on pecys ek,
Yet al yt ys nat worth a lek,
But euery sherd be cerchyd wel
Touchynge hys ordure euerydel,
And yscrapyd clene a-way,
Ye mot hem breke in gret affray,
That felthë noon ther-in abyde;
ffor wych ye mostë wel provyde
With sobbynge & with syhës depe
And saltë terys that ye wepe,
And other peynys sharpe & smerte;
Thynkynge thus with-Inne your herte;
‘Thow dyst offende on swych a day,
Where yt Sonday or Monday;
Than dystow thylkë gretë synne;
And swych an hour thow dyst begynne,
Havyng off God no dred nor fere.
Thys was gret; that was grettere.
And thus thow dyst, thylkë tyme,
Wher yt at Eve, wher yt at pryme,
And to don evel, were offtë blythe,
And that thow dyst so offtë sythe.
And rekne by & by yffere
The cyrcumstauncys & the manere;
Torne & cast ek, vp so doun,
Wher that thy Temptacïoun
Was gret or smal; acounte al thys,
And thynkë whan thow dyst amys,
Yiff a-forn thy great offence
Thow madest any résystence,
And wher thow wrastlyst any thyng
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‘To with-stonden in werkyng
Thy temptacioun, gret or smal;
Or wher thow (in especyal)
In thy wrastlyng dist purchace
Thy temptacioun to enchace;
Or wher that thow, for shame or drede,
Lettyst for to do the dede;
Or wher thow settest drede asyde,
And on the dedë dist abyde
Tyl thow haddest do thy lust,
And after that lefftyst the rust
To kankren in thy conscïence,
In aggreggyng of thyn offence:
Al thys mote be of duë ryht
Consydred wel off euery whyht.
‘And thys the maner (who loke wel,)
To breke in pecys euerydel
The vessell off thy gret offence
With-Inne thy ownë conscience:
Smyt yt with the hamer sore,
Tyl yt on pecys mor & more
Be mad by pleyn contricïon,
By swych consyderacïon
That ther abydë fylthë noon.
‘And thus I werke alway in on,
With thys hamer that I holde,
Al vnclennesse to vnfolde;
I breke al doun, & sparë nouht
Off no thyng that ys done or thouht,
Tyl that trewe purgacïoun
Be makyd by contricïoun.
‘But yet a lytel word, I praye
That I mot vn-to yow seye,
Off thys oldë pot texpresse,
Wych ay ys ful of vnclennesse,
Off whos ordure, gadyrd off old,
With-Inne yt sylff, as I ha told,
Engendryd ys a werm (in soth,)
Wych ful gretë damage doth
By long processe, yiff yt abyde.
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‘ffor thys worm, hym-sylff doth hyde
With-Inne thys pot ful couertly,
That no man may wel espy
Off hys engendryng, fer nor ner;
Nor of hys norysshyng the maner.
Thys, the werm of conscïence,
Wych hath hys teht by vyolence
Hardere (who that lookë wel,)
Than outher Iron outher stel;
Wonder cruel, ay fretynge,
And ryht perillous in percynge,
So fer forth (yt ys no drede,)
But he be slayn in verray dede,
Thys mortal werm wyl neuere fyne,
Vp-on hys mayster for to myne,
And gnawe vp-on hym day & nyht,
Tyl he ha slay hym thorgh hys myght,
Thorgh hys dredful vyolence.
‘But for to makë résistence,
Ageyn thys werm, hym to with-stand,
I ber thys hamer in myn hand,
And smyte a-pon hym ay so sore,
And spare hym nat, but mor & more
I ley vpon hym, to be wroke.
And thys ys whan the pot ys broke
On pecys smalë, vp & doun,
By verray trewe contricïoun.
ffor yiff yt wer nat broke aright,
Myn hamer sholdë ha no myght:
Thys the Fyn, shortly to seye,
To slen hym nor to make hym deye.
Wherfor ye mostë suffre wel
That I breke hym euerydel
On pecys smale, the werm to presse,
Tavoyde away al vnclennesse.
And on thys werm, (yiff ye lyst se,)
Thus I shal avengyd be;
Make hym lowly to obeye,
That he of verray forcë deye
To-for yow in your ownë syht.
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‘And thus, yiff ye take hede a-ryht,
Thys the sygnyfycacïoun
And verray exposicïoun
Off thys hamer that ye her se;
The wych ys namyd, ek off me,
(Trewly, in conclusyoun,)
Nat ellys but contrycïoun.
‘Swynge vp-on, yiff ye lyst lere,
Off the bysme ye shall here,
Wych, myd my teth, day by day,
With-Inne my mouth I bere alway,
As I to-forn ha told yow here;
And how I am the Chaumberere
Off hym that ys most myghty kyng.
And thys bysme ys wel syttyng
To hyre that ys a chaumberere.
But yt may happë, the manere
Ys vn-to yow a thyng vnkouth,
That I yt holde thus in my mouth.
But yiff I madë mencyoun
Off the Exposycïoun,
Ye knowë wel, (yt ys no doute,)
That who that euere shal casten oute
Any felthe or vnclennesse,
Out off a placë, he most dresse
The bysme wysly to and fro,
That he nat be-sydë go;
But that he hauë ay in mynde,
That felthë noon be leffte be-hynde,
Lyst, in the purgacïoun,
Men myghten han suspecyoun
That any maner vnclennesse,—
Thorgh slouthë or foryetylnesse,—
Wer lefft be-syden, her or ther,
In any Angle or Corner,
ffor the bysme was nat redy
To swepë clenë by & by.
ffor, by swych occasïoun,
Ther myghte, of felthë gret foisoun
Be couert, as yt happeth offte,
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On hepys reysyd hih a-loffte
In som Angle, Est or West,
The wych thyng wer nat honest.
‘And to purpos off thys matere,
In holy wryt, (as ye shal here,)
I have y-rad ful yore Agon
Off dyvers gatys mo than on,
And sondry namys, (who taketh hede)
They haddë sothly as I rede,
Gaate off the welle, men dyde on calle;
And a-nother, A-mong alle,
As the byble kan yow telle,
Namyd was the gate of helle.
And A-nother I kan nevene,
Callyd was the Gate off hevene;
And a-nother gate ther was,
That was callyd the gate off bras,
And also ek, to lastë long,
Ther was a gate of Iren strong.
But A-mong hem euerychon
Neëmye speketh of on,
And callyd ys in scripture
The gate off felthe & ordure,
To voyden (In conclusïoun)
Alle the fylthës of the Toun;
Out by that gatë, day be day,
Alle the donge to lede away,
That no maner corupcyoun
Nengendre nat with-Inne the Toun.
And bet yt ys, as thynketh me,
That thylkë place defoulyd be,
Than al the cyte wer encoumbryd
Wyth ffylthës, wych may nat be noumbryd
Wych euery day encresse off newe,
And mor & mor ay do renewe.
‘But wher that I am chaumberere,
And abyde, (as ye shal lere,)
ffor to do my besynesse,
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And Gracë Dieu ys ek maystresse,
That ther be .vj. Gatys large,
Wych to kepe, ys a gret charge,
As I shal to yow descryue.
‘And off thys syxë, ther be fyve
By wych al maner vnclennesse,
ffylthe, ordure, and wrechchydnesse
Entreth in, erly & late.
Off wych fyve, the fyrstë gate
Ys callyd the gate off smellyng,
The tother the gate off heryng,
The tother of Touch, the fourthe of tast,
The ffyffthe (wych I rekne last,)
Callyd ys the gate off syht.
And by thys fyvë, day & nyht,
Entreth in-to that mansïoun
Al felthe & al corrupcyoun
And al ordure (yt ys no doute),
The wychë may nat comen oute
Ageyn by hym in no manere,
And therfore, As a chaumberere,
The syxtë gate I stonde & kepe,
And with my bysme fastë swepe,
Do my peyne & besynesse
Tavoyde away al vnclennesse.
‘ffor thys syxtë gate, in soth,
Gret helthe & gret profyt doth;
ffor yt maketh purgacioun
Off al maner corrupcioun;
And al fylthës round aboute,
By that gate men putten oute.
Who that wyl with-Innë be
Clene off al dishoneste,
To purge hym clene, as he best kan.
Thys gate ys callyd ‘the mouth off man,’
Most profytable off euerychon,
for allë fylthës ther-out gon,
Evene as they wer done in dede;
No thyng concelyd for no drede,
But seyd vn-to hys cónfessour,
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With dyllygence & gret labour,
With terys and lamentacïoun.
‘And I ha most affecïoun,
At thys gatë to abyde;
To make yt fayr on euery syde,
I purge, I swepe, I make yt clene,
ffor fylthë noon I may sustene
Ther tabyde, in no manere.
And whyl that I am chaumberere
To Gracë Dieu, my maystresse,
I wyl kepen in clennesse
Hir dwellyng & hyr mansïoun
ffrom al manere corrupcïoun.
And my bysme, that al thys doth,
Ys myn ownë Tonge, in soth,
Wher-with I swepe & make al wel.
That felthe abydë neueradel,
Hih nor lowh, in no maner,
I cerche eche Angle & ech corner;
Euery hoolë, gret & smal,
I remewe, in éspecial,
Clene with-outen & with-Inne,
The fylthe of euery maner synne;
Caste hem out, & sparë nouht.
And ther ys no corner vnsouht,
But that I go to euery place;
Now her, now ther, aboute I trace,
By verray pleyn confessïoun,
With-oute fraude or decepcïoun,
Ther may no thyng me skapë fro,
ffor Gracë Dieu wyl yt be so.
ffor she ne wyl no-wher abyde,
But yt be clene on euery syde;
Whos chaumbre & whos mansïoun,
Dwellyng, & habytacïoun
Ys trewly, (with-oute offence,)
Verray clenë conscïence;
And ther she wyl abyden ay,
Whan all fythës be put a-way,
And that yt be clene & entere.
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‘Now, haue I told yow the maner
Off my bysmë verrayly,
And declaryd also, how I
Make ther-with confessyoun
By certeyn exposicïoun
As ye han herd her by & by.
‘But I shal tellë now shortly
Vn-to yow a lytel tale,
Why I bere thys yerdys smale:
I am off scolys a maystresse,
Chyldren, in ther wantownesse,
Affter ther gyltys to chastyse,
That wyl not lernë to be wyse;
I menë thus, whan they trespáce
Boldëly, a-for my face,
Off age thogh they be xx yer,
Outher an hundryd, fer or ner,
Men may ful wel hem ‘childre’ calle,
ffolk that ben in synnë falle:
And hooly wryt,—Red Y-saye,
In hys wrytynge,—doth specefye
A chyld an hundryd wynter old,—
(In hys wrytyng yt ys told,)
Swych a chyld a-cursyd ys;—
And therfore, whan they don Amys,
In a-wayt y lygge alway
To wyten whether, ye or nay,
Myn hamer hem touchyd any thyng,
Or whether they, in ther purgyng,
Vn-to my bysme submyttyd be,
Off lownesse and humylyte,
That they be swept clenly at al,
And that the hamer brekë smal
ffyrst by trewe contricyoun
And verray iuste confessïoun.
Thanne A-noon myn yerde I take;
And amendys for to make
By répentaunce, in diuers wyse,
With my yerde I ham chastyse,
Putte hem to penaunce of entent
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‘To brynge hem to amendëment,
And to haue in rémembraunce
Ther oldë synnys in substaunce;
And whan they thynke on ther trespas
fful offtë sythe to seyn ‘allas,
That they so sonë dyde assente!’
And than they seyn, ‘I me repente,
O, Lord God, of my mysdede,
Off al fals lust & flesshlyhede.
But thow that art my Creatour,
I am A-knowë myn errour,
And axe off thè forgyff(ë)nesse,
Makyng be-hest in sothënesse
Neuer her-after for to be
Hardy for toffendë the.’
Thus I make hem, with gret peyne,
Oon hour to wepyn & compleyne;
Another hour, by largesse,
ffor to geven gret almesse
To porë folk that bé nedy.
‘Another tymë also I
Make hem go on pylgrymage,
Barfoot, by many streiht passage;
I make hem fastë, preye, & wake,
And to were (for Crystys sake,)
On ther bodyës ful offte
Sharpë heyrës, no thyng soffte.
And thus my smertë yerde I vse,
Allë synnës to refuse,
And do with-al correccïoun,
Only off entencïoun,
That the remors of noon offence
Abydë in ther conscïence,
Nor retournë ther ageyn.
ffor I wyl be wel certeyn
That oldë synnës punysshed be
Off Ryghtwysnesse & equyte;
ffor, with-oute punycyoun,
Passeth no transgressïoun;
ffor, who to synnë doth assente,
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‘Moste afftér-ward hym repente;
And havë duë répentaunce
And vnderfongyn hys penaunce
ffor hys synnës newe & old.
And ther-fore, thys yerde I holde,
Wych namyd ys (of iuste resoun,)
Trewë satysfaccyoun.
‘And sothly, (yiff I shal nat feyne,)
Satysfaccyoun ys to seyne,
Asseth that ys mad for synne,
And that a man haue with-Inne
As myche sorwe & répentaunce,
As he haddë fyrst plesaunce,
Lyk to hys flesshly appetyt,
Or in hys synnë fals delyt.
Off equyte & good resoun.
‘Now haue I made yow A sarmoun
Off my name & myn offys,
And told the cause (yiff ye be wys,)
Off my komyng A-mong thys pres,
A-twyxë yow & Moyses,
And sette me ek (yt ys no fable,)
Evene Aforn hys ownë table,
In myn entent, & thys the cheff,
Be cause ye Axen the releff
Off hys dyner, on & alle
And ther-affter fastë calle,
With wonderful gret bysynesse.
‘But vn-to yow I shal expresse
The causë off my stondyng here
Yiff yt lykë yow to lere.
I am my-sylff the porteresse,
(Maad off verray Ryghtwysnesse,)
Off the releff that ye sen her,
And the trewë chaunceler,
That noon of hih nor lowh degre,
Kome no ner with-outë me,
ffor thanne ye dydë gret offence.
ffor thys releff, in éxistence
Sholde be yovë for no thyng
121

‘To swyche as ben in ther lyvyng,
ffoolys nor trwauntys in no wyse;
ffor, as I shal to yow devyse,
Thys releff ys the trewë ffoode,
Ordeyned for hem that be goode;
Inwardly in ther hertys brent,
And in the loue off God fervent,
To hooly pylgrymes, day be day
That gon the verray ryhtë way,
And off verray travayllynge
Ben also syk & languysshynge,
And hunger han to be recuryd.
To swych thys releff ys assuryd,
That kan yt hetyn deuoutly,
To resseyue only ther-by
Parfyt Elthe in ther entent,
And gostly ek allegëment,
And contynue ther pylgrymage,
Day be day, in ther vyage,
As pylgrymës sholdë konne,
The weyë wych they ha be gonne,
Off trewë menyng, no-thyng feyned:
To swych thys releff was ordeyned
Off Cryst Ihesu at the souper
Whan hys Apostlys sat ful ner.
He brak & partyd yt to ech on,
Wher as they setyn on by on,
The Grete Thursday at hys maundë,
Off hys largesse & gret bountee,
Whan he sat with hem at the cene,
Gostly to swych as he knewe clene.
To swych, he gaff hem alderlast
Hys owne boody for cheff repast,
As the cheff cherysshynge foode
To allë folkys that be goode.
‘And peplys off hih & lowh degre
Thorgh-out the world sustenyd be,
And therby han ther sustenaunce,
In al vertu hem-sylff tavaunce.
The wyche I kepë ful streihtly
122

‘In myn entent, that fynally
Yt be nat touchyd of no whyht,
But he to-forn (as yt ys right,)
Be with my yerdë fyrst chastysed,
And also (as I ha devysed,)
With myn hamer broke a-two,
And with my bysmë swept also;
That he be purgyd al aboute,
Bothe with-Innen & with-oute:
Lat euery man be war & wys
To werkyn affter my devys,
Whether that he be yong or old.’
And whan thys lady hadde al told,
And yt declaryd (al yfere)
Off hyr offycë the manere,
The tother lady that stood hyr by,
Gan pressë forth, & was redy
(Lych as ye shal vnderstond,)
With the scrypture in hyr hond,
Off the wych to-forn I tolde;
And hyr lettre she gan vnfolde,
And in opyn audyence
Thus she seydë in sentence.
‘Syrs,’ quod she, ‘yiff ye lyst lere,
Ye han herd al the manere
How thys lady, Dame Penaunce,
Hath declaryd in substaunce
To yow hyr offyce by & by.
And, by your leuë, now wyl I,—
In hope I may your thank dysserue,—
Declarë wher-off that I serue,
Off myn offyce & my degre.
‘I wyl ye wyte, that I am she
That neuere haddë yet delyt
To haue no persone in despyt,
Hih nor lowh, in no degre;
ffor al my Ioye, wherso I be,
As fer forth as I ha myght,
Ys to forthren euery wyht.
And neuere yet, for no greuaunce,
123

‘On no man I took vengaunce.
Myn Enemyes also I fforbere;
And myn Entent ys nat to dere
To no persone nor to no man,
As fer forth as euere I kan.
I am modre off al vertue;
And I am she (as yt ys due,)
That clothë folk wych nakyd be;
And of mercy & of pyte
I made Seyn Martyn, yore agon,
(Al-be that he hadde but on,)
Hys mantél to kutte A tweyne,
And dyde al hys bysy peyne
To clothe the poore, wych nakyd stood
Myd off the gate, devoyde of good.
I am noryce of al nedy,
And I herberwe comounly
Al pylgrymës in ther nede;
And I am she (yt ys no drede,)
That ffele as mychë harm in me
Off other folkys aduersyte,
As they hem-sylff that yt endure.
And al my goodys (I ensure,)
Be comoun vnto euery whyht,
Whan they ha nede, as yt ys ryht.
‘Seyn Poul sayd ek, in hys wrytyng,
Off vertu he hadde no thyng,
With-outë that he haddë me;
And that he myghte in no degre
With-outë me do no good dede.
And trew(ë)ly (who taketh hede,)
No good dede nor good entent
Ys worth, but yiff I be present,
Among estatys hih nor lowe.
‘And yiff ye lyst my namë knowe,
I am callyd dame Charyte,
That hauë al folk in cherte.
124

‘And other, that folk haue in despyt,
Hem to cherysshe, ys my delyt;
I ffeedë folk that hongry be,
And parte with hem off my plente;
And vysete hem that lyggen seke,
And dwelle with folkys that be meke;
And for no cost I do not spare,
To be glad off the welfare
Off euery other maner whyht,
As off myn owne of verray ryht.
‘I am she that paciently
Kan suffren, & benygnëly
Allë sorwës wel apese.
And I am she that kan done ese,
Al hevynesses to recure.
And I am she that set no cure
Off grucchyng nor detraccïoun;
ffor thys ys my condicïoun,
Harm to spekë neueradel,
But, off ech man to sey wel,
Wych I holde a gret vertu.
And yiff he haue off Cryst Ihesu
Any maner Rémembraunce,
I made hym for to ha plesaunce
Off mercy, as I rehersë kan,
ffor louë to be-kome A man,
And taken your humanyte,
And suffren, by humylyte,
Deth for your sake, & passïoun;
Made hym fro hevene kome A-doun,
And suffren ek (as yt ys founde,)
To a pyler to be bovnde,
And tendure (that Lord most fre,)
With sharpë thornys crownyd be,
And sprede hys Armys on the rood,
And for your sakë shede hys blood;
And to a croos to be ek nayled,
And doun therby hys blood yraylled
To-forn, be-hynde, & euery cost,
And to his Fader yelde hys goste,
125

In to his hand hys spyryt take.
‘Al thys I made hym, for your sake,
Tenduren off entencïoun,
To makë your redempcïoun
That wer for synnë lost echon.
And to helle I made hym gon,
To fette hem out that ley ther bounde,
The devell power to confounde,
Wych hadde grevyd man so sore.
‘And I shal telle yow euermore,
How thys kyng most souereyne,
To-forn hys passïoun & peyne,
And hys tormentys wonder stronge,
Or he the deth sholde vnderfonge,
He fforgate nat off entent
ffor to make hys testament.
The formë ther-off to endyte,
He calledë me yt to wryte:
ffor to make the formë bettre,
My sylff wrot yt, euery lettre
And namyd yt (yt ys no les,)
‘The trewë testament off pes.’
Wych to-for yow alle I brynge,
That ye may ha knowelychynge
What maner thyng ther-on doth sue,
And what to yow ther-off ys due,
I wyl yow reden the sentence,
Yiff ye wyl yiven audyence.
Lo thys yt ys, herkneth echon,
As I shal her rehers A-noon.

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