 | William Langland: Piers Plowman: The Z Version |  |
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Piers Plowman
The Z Version
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Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations. Paragraphs in this text are signified by markers. The paragraphs have been captured, but the markers ignored.
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Prologue
In a somer sesoun wen softe was the sonne
Y schope me into schrodus as Y a schep were,
In abite as an hermite vnholy of wercus,
Wente wyde in this world wondres to here
Ant sey many sellys, Y can nat sey alle.
Ac in a May morwen vnder Maluerne hylles
Me befel a ferly, of fayre me thoughte.
I was wery of wandret ant wente me to reste
Vnder a brod birch by a born syde,
Ant as Y lay ant lened ant loked in the water
I slumbred in a slep, hyt sweyed so murye.
Thone gan Y meten a merueylose sweue,
That Y was in a wyldernesse, wyst Y nere were.
As Y byheld in the est, an hey to the sonne,
Y sey a tour on a toft tryeliche ymaked,
A dep dale bynethe, as dym as a cloude:
Hit thondred, as me thouȝte, there ant nawher elles.
A fayre feld ful of folk fond Y there bytwene,
Of alle manere men, bothe mene ant ryche,
Werchyng ant wandryng as the world hasket.
Somme pote hem to plow, pleyuden ful selde,
In settyng, in sowyng, swonken ful harde,
Wonnen that wastres wyth glotenye dystruyen.
Somme pote hem to pruide, parayled hem thereaftur,
In contynance, in clothyng, comen digised.
In pryeres ant in pennaunses potten hem monye;
Al for loue of houre lord leueden ful streyte,
Al for hope to haue heuenriche blysse,
As hankres ant hermytus that holdeth hem in here sellys,
Coueyteth nat in contraye to kayren abowte,
For no licorouse liflode here licam to plese.
Ant summe chosen chaffare, cheued the bettre,
As hit semeth to oure syght that seche men ythryueth.
Ant summe murthus to make as mynstrales conneht:
Nolle noythur swynke ne swete, but swere grete othus
Ant as here licam loueth leueth thereaftur.
Byddares as beggares faste aboute yede
Tyl here bagge ant here baly was bretful ycrammed,
Faytede for here fode ant foughten at the ale.
In glotonye, God wot, goth they to bedde
Ant ryseth wyth ribaudye, tho Robardus knaues:
Slep ant slewthe seueth hem euere.
Y schope me into schrodus as Y a schep were,
In abite as an hermite vnholy of wercus,
Wente wyde in this world wondres to here
Ant sey many sellys, Y can nat sey alle.
Ac in a May morwen vnder Maluerne hylles
Me befel a ferly, of fayre me thoughte.
I was wery of wandret ant wente me to reste
Vnder a brod birch by a born syde,
Ant as Y lay ant lened ant loked in the water
I slumbred in a slep, hyt sweyed so murye.
Thone gan Y meten a merueylose sweue,
That Y was in a wyldernesse, wyst Y nere were.
As Y byheld in the est, an hey to the sonne,
Y sey a tour on a toft tryeliche ymaked,
A dep dale bynethe, as dym as a cloude:
Hit thondred, as me thouȝte, there ant nawher elles.
A fayre feld ful of folk fond Y there bytwene,
Of alle manere men, bothe mene ant ryche,
Werchyng ant wandryng as the world hasket.
Somme pote hem to plow, pleyuden ful selde,
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Wonnen that wastres wyth glotenye dystruyen.
Somme pote hem to pruide, parayled hem thereaftur,
In contynance, in clothyng, comen digised.
In pryeres ant in pennaunses potten hem monye;
Al for loue of houre lord leueden ful streyte,
Al for hope to haue heuenriche blysse,
As hankres ant hermytus that holdeth hem in here sellys,
Coueyteth nat in contraye to kayren abowte,
For no licorouse liflode here licam to plese.
Ant summe chosen chaffare, cheued the bettre,
As hit semeth to oure syght that seche men ythryueth.
Ant summe murthus to make as mynstrales conneht:
Nolle noythur swynke ne swete, but swere grete othus
Ant as here licam loueth leueth thereaftur.
Byddares as beggares faste aboute yede
Tyl here bagge ant here baly was bretful ycrammed,
Faytede for here fode ant foughten at the ale.
In glotonye, God wot, goth they to bedde
Ant ryseth wyth ribaudye, tho Robardus knaues:
Slep ant slewthe seueth hem euere.
Freres Y fond there of alle foure ordres,
Preched þe puple for profyt of the wombe,
Glosed the gospel as hem god lyked,
For coueytise of kopys construed hit as they wolde.
Hermytes on an hep wyth hoked staues
Wenten to Walsingham ant here wyues aftur.
Pylegrymes ant palmeres plyhten hem togyderes
To seynt Jemes of Gales ant seyntus of Rome;
Wenten forth on here way wyth many wyse tales,
Ant haueden leue to lye al here lyf aftur.
Bischopes blessed there beren here staues,
Deden dygneliche here offices, Y deme hem neen other;
For tho apostles to prelatus apendeth here status,
Ant so Y leue they lyue ant lere vs the same.
Religious to Rome ronne in a route,
To apropre parsonages that pore clerkus hasketh.
Barones ant borgeys ant bondage alse
Y say in that semble, as ye schal here hereaftur.
Parsones ant parsche prestus preyd here bischop,
For here parsches were so pore sen the pestilence tyme,
To haue a license ant a leue to lauchen annueles
Ant take trentales thereto, to yer togyderus.
Seriauns serued there in selken houes,
Plededen for penyes ant poundes the lawe,
Ant for loue of oure lord vnlose here lyppe ones—
Thow myghtest betur meten myst on Maluerne hilles
Than geten a mom of here mouht or mony were yschewed.
Justices jugged that jeroures wolde schewe:
Were hit wel, were hit wrong, here word most stande.
Forthy lak y nat tho lordus—lawes they kepe
Ant saueth vs fro sorwes of synfol wrochus.
There preched a pardoner, as he prest were,
Ant broughte forth a bille wyth bischopus seles,
Ant seyd that himsylf may soylen hem alle
Of falsenesse, of fasting, of voues ybroken.
Lewed men leuen hym wel, liken ys wordus,
Comen vp knelyng to kyssen ys bulle;
Bunged hem on the hed, blered here eyus
Ant raughte wyth ys rageman ryngus ant brochus.
Thus ye gyuen youre gold glotonye to helpe,
Ant leneth hit thys loseles that in lecherie lybbyth.
Ac were the bischop [blyssed] ant worth bothe eres,
Ys sel scholde nat be sent to deseyue the peple.
Preched þe puple for profyt of the wombe,
Glosed the gospel as hem god lyked,
For coueytise of kopys construed hit as they wolde.
Hermytes on an hep wyth hoked staues
Wenten to Walsingham ant here wyues aftur.
Pylegrymes ant palmeres plyhten hem togyderes
To seynt Jemes of Gales ant seyntus of Rome;
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Ant haueden leue to lye al here lyf aftur.
Bischopes blessed there beren here staues,
Deden dygneliche here offices, Y deme hem neen other;
For tho apostles to prelatus apendeth here status,
Ant so Y leue they lyue ant lere vs the same.
Religious to Rome ronne in a route,
To apropre parsonages that pore clerkus hasketh.
Barones ant borgeys ant bondage alse
Y say in that semble, as ye schal here hereaftur.
Parsones ant parsche prestus preyd here bischop,
For here parsches were so pore sen the pestilence tyme,
To haue a license ant a leue to lauchen annueles
Ant take trentales thereto, to yer togyderus.
Seriauns serued there in selken houes,
Plededen for penyes ant poundes the lawe,
Ant for loue of oure lord vnlose here lyppe ones—
Thow myghtest betur meten myst on Maluerne hilles
Than geten a mom of here mouht or mony were yschewed.
Justices jugged that jeroures wolde schewe:
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Forthy lak y nat tho lordus—lawes they kepe
Ant saueth vs fro sorwes of synfol wrochus.
There preched a pardoner, as he prest were,
Ant broughte forth a bille wyth bischopus seles,
Ant seyd that himsylf may soylen hem alle
Of falsenesse, of fasting, of voues ybroken.
Lewed men leuen hym wel, liken ys wordus,
Comen vp knelyng to kyssen ys bulle;
Bunged hem on the hed, blered here eyus
Ant raughte wyth ys rageman ryngus ant brochus.
Thus ye gyuen youre gold glotonye to helpe,
Ant leneth hit thys loseles that in lecherie lybbyth.
Ac were the bischop [blyssed] ant worth bothe eres,
Ys sel scholde nat be sent to deseyue the peple.
Baksteres ant bocheres ant brewstres manye,
Wollen webbestares ant weuares of lynnen,
Taylours, towkares and tollares bothe,
Myllares ant mynstrales and masones somme,
Of alle libbynge labores lopen forth there,
As dicares an delueres that doth here dedus ylle
Ant dryueht forth the day wyth “Deux saue dame Emme!”
Al this Y say in my slep ant seuene sithes more,
Wollen webbestares ant weuares of lynnen,
Taylours, towkares and tollares bothe,
Myllares ant mynstrales and masones somme,
Of alle libbynge labores lopen forth there,
As dicares an delueres that doth here dedus ylle
Ant dryueht forth the day wyth “Deux saue dame Emme!”
Al this Y say in my slep ant seuene sithes more,
Ac the heye hyl in the Est, here wat hit menes:
A louely laydy of lere in lynnen yclothed
Com fro the castel ant calde me twius
Ant seyde, “Sone, slepest thow? Sest this peple,
How besy they ben the body for to plese?
They an no ward to the hil that on hey standes,
Ne no dred of the dongen in the depe dale.”
Y was aferd of here face, thow he fayr were,
Ant seyde, “Mercy, ma dame, wat ys this to mene?”
“The tour wyth the tofte,” quad sche, “Trewthe ys therinne
Ant wolde that ye wroughten as ys word techeth,
For he ys fader of fayth ant formed yow alle,
Bothe wyth fel ant wyth flesch, ant yaf how fiue wyttes
To wyrschepe hym therewyth wyle ye ben here,
Ant therefor hygte the ereth to helpe you vchone
Of wollone, of lynnen, of lyflode at nede,
In mesurable manere to make yow at ese,
Ant comaunded of ys cortesye in comewn thre thyngus—
Aren no nedeful but tho, ant nempne hem Y thenke
Ant rykene hem by resoun: rehers[e] ye hem aftur!
That on ys vesture, fram chele the to saue,
Ant mete at the mele for myseyse of thysylf,
Ant drynke wen the druyeth, ac do nat out of resoun
That the worthe the wors wen thow wyrche scholdest.
For Loth in his lyueday, for lykying of drynk,
Dede by ys dowtres that the deuel lyked,
For lecherye hym lawghte, ant lay by hem bothe,
An al a wit hit the wyn that wyked dede.
Dred dylitable drynke—thou schalt do the bettre—
Ant mesure his medicine, thowȝ thow myche yerne.
Hit ys nat al god to the gost that the guth hascuht,
Ne lyflode to the lycam that leue ys the soule.
Lef nat thy licam, for a lyare hym thecheth:
That his the wrechyd werld, wolde the bytraye,
For the fend ant thy flesch foleweth togyderus,
Ant that seuth thy soule ant seyth in thyn herte.”
A louely laydy of lere in lynnen yclothed
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Ant seyde, “Sone, slepest thow? Sest this peple,
How besy they ben the body for to plese?
They an no ward to the hil that on hey standes,
Ne no dred of the dongen in the depe dale.”
Y was aferd of here face, thow he fayr were,
Ant seyde, “Mercy, ma dame, wat ys this to mene?”
“The tour wyth the tofte,” quad sche, “Trewthe ys therinne
Ant wolde that ye wroughten as ys word techeth,
For he ys fader of fayth ant formed yow alle,
Bothe wyth fel ant wyth flesch, ant yaf how fiue wyttes
To wyrschepe hym therewyth wyle ye ben here,
Ant therefor hygte the ereth to helpe you vchone
Of wollone, of lynnen, of lyflode at nede,
In mesurable manere to make yow at ese,
Ant comaunded of ys cortesye in comewn thre thyngus—
Aren no nedeful but tho, ant nempne hem Y thenke
Ant rykene hem by resoun: rehers[e] ye hem aftur!
That on ys vesture, fram chele the to saue,
Ant mete at the mele for myseyse of thysylf,
Ant drynke wen the druyeth, ac do nat out of resoun
That the worthe the wors wen thow wyrche scholdest.
For Loth in his lyueday, for lykying of drynk,
Dede by ys dowtres that the deuel lyked,
For lecherye hym lawghte, ant lay by hem bothe,
An al a wit hit the wyn that wyked dede.
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Ant mesure his medicine, thowȝ thow myche yerne.
Hit ys nat al god to the gost that the guth hascuht,
Ne lyflode to the lycam that leue ys the soule.
Lef nat thy licam, for a lyare hym thecheth:
That his the wrechyd werld, wolde the bytraye,
For the fend ant thy flesch foleweth togyderus,
Ant that seuth thy soule ant seyth in thyn herte.”
“A, ma dame, mercy,” quad Y, “me lecuth wel youre wordes.
Ac the money of thys molde that men so faste holdeth,
Telleth me to wam that tresor apendeth.”
“Go to the gospel that God sayde hymsylfe,
Tho the peple hym aposed wyth a peny in the temple
Were they scholde wyrschepe therewyth Cesar the kinge.
Ant God hasked of hem, ‘Of wam spak þe letre
Ant ymage ylych that therein standes?’
‘Sesaris,’ they seyden, ‘we seen wel vchone,’
‘Reddite Cesari,’ quad God, ‘that Cesari byfalleth,
Et que sunt Dei Deo, or ye don ylle.’
For ryghtfoullyche Resoun scholde reule yow alle
Ant Kynde Wyt be wardeyn, youre welthe to kepe,
Ant tutor of youre tresor to take hit yow at nede,
For hosebondry ant he holdeth togyderes:
Trewthe techeth vs so to wyrche thereaftur.”
Ac the money of thys molde that men so faste holdeth,
Telleth me to wam that tresor apendeth.”
“Go to the gospel that God sayde hymsylfe,
Tho the peple hym aposed wyth a peny in the temple
Were they scholde wyrschepe therewyth Cesar the kinge.
Ant God hasked of hem, ‘Of wam spak þe letre
Ant ymage ylych that therein standes?’
‘Sesaris,’ they seyden, ‘we seen wel vchone,’
‘Reddite Cesari,’ quad God, ‘that Cesari byfalleth,
Et que sunt Dei Deo, or ye don ylle.’
For ryghtfoullyche Resoun scholde reule yow alle
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Ant tutor of youre tresor to take hit yow at nede,
For hosebondry ant he holdeth togyderes:
Trewthe techeth vs so to wyrche thereaftur.”
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Passus Primus
I frayned here fayre, for hym that here made:
“The dongen in the dale that dredful his of sygth,
Wat may hit mene, madame, Y beseche?”
“That ys the kastel of care: ho so cometh thereinne
May banne that he bore was to body or to soule.
Thereinne wonyes a weye that Wrong ys hote
Ant eke fadur of falseed, formed hymsylf:
Adam ant Eue he egged to ylle,
Consayled Kaym to kyllen ys brothur;
Judas he byjaped wyth Juen syluer
Ant sennes on an hellerne hanged hym aftur.
He ys lettare of loue, lyeth hem alle:
That trysteth on ys tresor, trayed as sone.”
Then haued Y wondur in my wyt, wat wom[a]n he were
That such wyse wordus of holy wryt schewed,
Ant halsened here on the heye name, hor he thennus yede,
Wat that a were that wyssed me so fayre
Bothe of falsenesse ant fayth: “Fayne nat, Y hote!”
“Holy Chirche Y am,” quad sche, “thow houghtest me to knowe.
Y vndurfong the furst ant thy fayth taughte,
Ant broughtest me borwes my byddyng to holde,
Wil thy lyf lasted to loue me oure alle,
Ant eke to be buxum my byddying to wyrche.”
Thenne Y courbed on my knes, cryed here of here grace,
Preyed here petousely to prey for my synnes
Ant to kenne me kyindely on Cryst to byleue,
That Y myght werchyn ys wylle that wroght me to man.
“Theche me to no tresor but telle me thys ylke,
How Y may saue my soule that senne hard yholde.”
“The dongen in the dale that dredful his of sygth,
Wat may hit mene, madame, Y beseche?”
“That ys the kastel of care: ho so cometh thereinne
May banne that he bore was to body or to soule.
Thereinne wonyes a weye that Wrong ys hote
Ant eke fadur of falseed, formed hymsylf:
Adam ant Eue he egged to ylle,
Consayled Kaym to kyllen ys brothur;
Judas he byjaped wyth Juen syluer
Ant sennes on an hellerne hanged hym aftur.
He ys lettare of loue, lyeth hem alle:
That trysteth on ys tresor, trayed as sone.”
Then haued Y wondur in my wyt, wat wom[a]n he were
That such wyse wordus of holy wryt schewed,
Ant halsened here on the heye name, hor he thennus yede,
Wat that a were that wyssed me so fayre
Bothe of falsenesse ant fayth: “Fayne nat, Y hote!”
“Holy Chirche Y am,” quad sche, “thow houghtest me to knowe.
Y vndurfong the furst ant thy fayth taughte,
Ant broughtest me borwes my byddyng to holde,
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Ant eke to be buxum my byddying to wyrche.”
Thenne Y courbed on my knes, cryed here of here grace,
Preyed here petousely to prey for my synnes
Ant to kenne me kyindely on Cryst to byleue,
That Y myght werchyn ys wylle that wroght me to man.
“Theche me to no tresor but telle me thys ylke,
How Y may saue my soule that senne hard yholde.”
“Wan alle tresores ar tryed, trewthe ys the beste.
Y do hit on Deus caritas to dome the sothe:
Hit ys as derworthe a drewerye as dere God hymsylf.
For ho ys trewe of ys tonge ant telleth non other,
Doth the wercus therewyth, wylneth no man ylle,
He ys a god be the gospel, a grounde ant alofte,
Ant eke yleke to oure lord by seynt Leucus lessoun.
Clercus that knoweth hit scholde kennen hit aboute,
For cristene ant vncristene claymeth hit vchone.
Euery wyght that ys wys wylneth hit to haue:
Kyngus ant knyghtus scholde kepen hyt be resoun,
Ryden an rappe down in reumus aboute,
Ant take trangressores ant teyen hem faste
Tyl trewthe haued ytermyned here trespas to the ende.
For Dauid in hys days dubbed knyghtes,
Dede hem swere on here swerd to serue trewth euere.
Þat ys profession that appendeth to knyghtus
Ant nat to faste a fryday in fifscore wyntur,
But halde wyth hym ant wyth here that haschet the trewthe
Ant neuer leue hem for loue ne for lachyng of yftus,
Ant ‘ho’ so passeth thys poynt ys apostata in the hordre.
Cryst, kynggen kyng, knigte[d] tene:
Cherubyn ant seraphyn, such seuene ant anothur,
Yaf hem mygthe in hys mageste—the murgur hym thoughte—
Ant ouer ys mene mayne made hem arcangles;
Taughte hem thorw the trynite the trewthe to knowe,
To be buxum at ys bede, a bad hem nat ellus.
Lucifer wyth legyounes lerned hit in heuene
Ant was the louelokest of lyght after oure lord syluen,
Tyl he brak boxumnesse torw bost of hemsylfe.
Thenne fulle he wyth ys felawscipe ant fendes bycome,
Out of heue into helle hobeled they faste.
Somme in eyr, somme in herthe, somme in helle depe,
Ac Lucifer lowest lyth of hem alle:
For pruyde that hym pulte out ys peyne hath non ende,
Ant apostata of that place ant pelour of helle.
Ant alle that wyrcheth wyth Wrong, wenden they scollen
Aftur here deth day ant dwelle wyth that schrew.
Ac tho that wyrchen the word that holy wryt techeth
Ant endeth as Y or sayde in parfite vertus,
Mow be syker that here soule schal wende to heuene
There trewthe his in trinite, ant tronen hem alle.
Forthy Y seyde er by syght of thys tyxtes:
Wen alle tresores ar tryed, trewthe ys the beste.
Y do hit on Deus caritas to dome the sothe:
Hit ys as derworthe a drewerye as dere God hymsylf.
For ho ys trewe of ys tonge ant telleth non other,
Doth the wercus therewyth, wylneth no man ylle,
He ys a god be the gospel, a grounde ant alofte,
Ant eke yleke to oure lord by seynt Leucus lessoun.
Clercus that knoweth hit scholde kennen hit aboute,
For cristene ant vncristene claymeth hit vchone.
Euery wyght that ys wys wylneth hit to haue:
Kyngus ant knyghtus scholde kepen hyt be resoun,
Ryden an rappe down in reumus aboute,
Ant take trangressores ant teyen hem faste
Tyl trewthe haued ytermyned here trespas to the ende.
For Dauid in hys days dubbed knyghtes,
Dede hem swere on here swerd to serue trewth euere.
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Ant nat to faste a fryday in fifscore wyntur,
But halde wyth hym ant wyth here that haschet the trewthe
Ant neuer leue hem for loue ne for lachyng of yftus,
Ant ‘ho’ so passeth thys poynt ys apostata in the hordre.
Cryst, kynggen kyng, knigte[d] tene:
Cherubyn ant seraphyn, such seuene ant anothur,
Yaf hem mygthe in hys mageste—the murgur hym thoughte—
Ant ouer ys mene mayne made hem arcangles;
Taughte hem thorw the trynite the trewthe to knowe,
To be buxum at ys bede, a bad hem nat ellus.
Lucifer wyth legyounes lerned hit in heuene
Ant was the louelokest of lyght after oure lord syluen,
Tyl he brak boxumnesse torw bost of hemsylfe.
Thenne fulle he wyth ys felawscipe ant fendes bycome,
Out of heue into helle hobeled they faste.
Somme in eyr, somme in herthe, somme in helle depe,
Ac Lucifer lowest lyth of hem alle:
For pruyde that hym pulte out ys peyne hath non ende,
Ant apostata of that place ant pelour of helle.
Ant alle that wyrcheth wyth Wrong, wenden they scollen
Aftur here deth day ant dwelle wyth that schrew.
Ac tho that wyrchen the word that holy wryt techeth
Ant endeth as Y or sayde in parfite vertus,
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There trewthe his in trinite, ant tronen hem alle.
Forthy Y seyde er by syght of thys tyxtes:
Wen alle tresores ar tryed, trewthe ys the beste.
Lere hyt thus to lewed men, for lettred hyt knoweth,
That trewthe his the tresor trydest on erthe.”
“I haue no kynde knowyng: yut mot ye kene me betre
By wat craft in my cors hyt comseth ant were.”
“Thow doted daffe,” quad sche, “dulle are thy wyttes!
Hyt ys a kynde knowyng that keneth
For to louy thy god leuere than thyselue;
To do no dedly synne, deye thow [thow] scholdest,
For thus wytnessett ys word: wyrche thow thereaftur!
Thys, Y trowe, be trewthe; ho can theche the bettere,
Loke thow suffre hym to seye ant senes lere hit aftur.
For loue his the leuest thynk that oure lord hasketh,
Ant eke the plente of pes—preche hit in thyn harpe,
There thow art murye at the mete, yf men byt the yed.
That trewthe his the tresor trydest on erthe.”
“I haue no kynde knowyng: yut mot ye kene me betre
By wat craft in my cors hyt comseth ant were.”
“Thow doted daffe,” quad sche, “dulle are thy wyttes!
Hyt ys a kynde knowyng that keneth
For to louy thy god leuere than thyselue;
To do no dedly synne, deye thow [thow] scholdest,
For thus wytnessett ys word: wyrche thow thereaftur!
Thys, Y trowe, be trewthe; ho can theche the bettere,
Loke thow suffre hym to seye ant senes lere hit aftur.
For loue his the leuest thynk that oure lord hasketh,
Ant eke the plente of pes—preche hit in thyn harpe,
There thow art murye at the mete, yf men byt the yed.
For in kynde knowyng in herte there comseth a myght,
Ant that falleth to the fadur that fourmed vs alle,
Loked on vs wyth loue, let ys sone deye
Mylelyche for oure mysdedes to menden vs alle,
Ant yut wolde hem no wo that wrowghte hym that tene,
But mikelyche wyth mouthe mercy a bysowghte,
To haue pite on the peple that peyned hym to dethe.
Here myght thow se ensawmples in hymsylf one,
That he was myghtfol ant meke ant mercy gan graunte
To hem that hongen hym heye ant ys herte thorled.
Forthy Y rede, ye ryche, habbeth rewth on the pore;
Thow ye be myghty to mote, beth meke in youre wercus:
Loketh on hem wyth loue-lawes, thow ye hem kepe.
For the same mesures that methet amys
Other alles ye schal be wo therewyth wen ye wenden hennus.
Thouȝ ye be trewe of yor tonge ant trewlyche wynne
Ant be as schast as a childe ant do chirches make,
But yf ye loue lelelyche ant lene the pore,
Of such god as God ou sent godlyche parte,
Ye habbeth no more meryte in masse ne in houres
Then Maleken of here maydenhod that no man desyreth.
James the gentel iuggeth by ys bokes
That fayth wythouten the fet ys febler then nauȝt
Ant as ded as a dorenayl, but yf dedus folwe.
Mony chapelyns aren chaste, ac charite ys aweye.
Aren noen harder then summe wen they ben avaunsed,
Ant eke vnkynde to here [kyn] ant to alle other crystene;
Cheweth here charite, chyden aftur more.
Here loue ys likned to a laumpe that no lyght ys ynne:
Such chastite wythouten charite worth cheyned in helle!
For ye curatores that kepeth yow clene of youre body
Ant beth acombred wyth couetyse, ye konnen nat crepe out,
So harde haueth auarice yhapsed yow togyderes,—
Trewthe taughte neuere so, but trecherye of elle—
Ant lereth the lewed men later to dele,
Foryth wordus ywryte in the ewangelye:
‘Date et dabitur vobis, for Y dele yow alle.’
That ys lok of loue that lateth out grace
To conforte the carful acombred wyth synne.
Loue ys the lyfloede that oure lord haschet,
Ant eke the gate of grace that goth into heune.
Forthy, seye as Y seyde er, by syght of this tyxtus:
Wen alle tresoures ben tryed, trewthe ys the best.
Now haue Y told the wat trewthe ys—taken in thyn herte.
Y may no lengur lenge the wyth—now loke the oure lord!”
Ant that falleth to the fadur that fourmed vs alle,
Loked on vs wyth loue, let ys sone deye
Mylelyche for oure mysdedes to menden vs alle,
Ant yut wolde hem no wo that wrowghte hym that tene,
But mikelyche wyth mouthe mercy a bysowghte,
To haue pite on the peple that peyned hym to dethe.
50
That he was myghtfol ant meke ant mercy gan graunte
To hem that hongen hym heye ant ys herte thorled.
Forthy Y rede, ye ryche, habbeth rewth on the pore;
Thow ye be myghty to mote, beth meke in youre wercus:
Loketh on hem wyth loue-lawes, thow ye hem kepe.
For the same mesures that methet amys
Other alles ye schal be wo therewyth wen ye wenden hennus.
Thouȝ ye be trewe of yor tonge ant trewlyche wynne
Ant be as schast as a childe ant do chirches make,
But yf ye loue lelelyche ant lene the pore,
Of such god as God ou sent godlyche parte,
Ye habbeth no more meryte in masse ne in houres
Then Maleken of here maydenhod that no man desyreth.
James the gentel iuggeth by ys bokes
That fayth wythouten the fet ys febler then nauȝt
Ant as ded as a dorenayl, but yf dedus folwe.
Mony chapelyns aren chaste, ac charite ys aweye.
Aren noen harder then summe wen they ben avaunsed,
Ant eke vnkynde to here [kyn] ant to alle other crystene;
51
Here loue ys likned to a laumpe that no lyght ys ynne:
Such chastite wythouten charite worth cheyned in helle!
For ye curatores that kepeth yow clene of youre body
Ant beth acombred wyth couetyse, ye konnen nat crepe out,
So harde haueth auarice yhapsed yow togyderes,—
Trewthe taughte neuere so, but trecherye of elle—
Ant lereth the lewed men later to dele,
Foryth wordus ywryte in the ewangelye:
‘Date et dabitur vobis, for Y dele yow alle.’
That ys lok of loue that lateth out grace
To conforte the carful acombred wyth synne.
Loue ys the lyfloede that oure lord haschet,
Ant eke the gate of grace that goth into heune.
Forthy, seye as Y seyde er, by syght of this tyxtus:
Wen alle tresoures ben tryed, trewthe ys the best.
Now haue Y told the wat trewthe ys—taken in thyn herte.
Y may no lengur lenge the wyth—now loke the oure lord!”
52
Passus Secundus
Now haue Y told yow of trewthe, that no tresor ys bettre.
Yf ye wyl weten of Wrong, Y wyl yow fayre schewe
Bothe of Fauel ant Falsede that myche folk apeyreth.
For yut Y kneled on my knes ant cryed here of grace
Ant seyde, “Mercy, madame, for Marie loue of heune
That bar that blysful barn that bought [vs] on the rode!
Kenne me for youre cortesye the False for to knowe.”
“Loke on the lifth half,” quad sche, “ant lo, were a standet,
Bothe Fauel ant False ant ys feres monye.
Yf thow wylnes to wytte, lo, were they stande.”
I loked on my lifth half, as the lady me thaughte,
Ant was ware of a wuiman worthely yclothed,
Yporfyled in pelure, the purest on erthe,
Ycrowned in a crowne, the kyng hatht no bettre.
Alle here fyue fyngres were fretted wyth ryngus,
Wyth ryche rubius as rede as a glede,
In red scarlet yrobed ant rybanes of golde:
There ys no quene queyntor that quyk ys on molde.
“Wat ys that wuiman,” quad Y, “so worthyly atyred?”
That ys Mede the mayde,” quad he, “hath nuyed me ful ofte
Ant laked my lore to lordus aboute.
In the Pope paleys he ys pryue as mysylfe,
Ant so scholde sche nat be, for Wrong ys here syre.
Out of Wrong sche wax to wrothurhele monye:
I howghte ben herrer than he, Y com a bettre.
Tomorwe worth the maryage mad of Mede ant of Fals:
Fauel wyth fayr speche hath forged hem togyderes,
Ant Gyle hath bygo here so, he graunthet alle here wylle,
Ac alle ys Lyares ledyng that they lye togyderes.
Tomorwe worth the maryage ymad, as Y telle:
There myght thow wytte, yf þou wylt, wyche they ben alle
That longeth to thys lordschipe, the lasse ant the more.
Knowe hem there, if thow canst, ant kepe the fro hem alle,
Yf thow wylnest to wone wyth Treweth in ys blisse.
Y may no lengor lette, lord Y the bykenne—
Ant bycome a god man, for eny couetyse, Y rede!”
Alle the ryche retenanse that regneht wyth False
Were bede to this bruydale on bothe to the sydes.
Sire Symonye ys ofsent to sele the chartres
Ant alle the notaryes by name, that they noen fayle,
To sette on here sygnes as Symonye wyl bydde.
Cyuyle ys sompned to sese alle the londus
That Fauel ant Fals by eny fyn haldeth,
To feffe Mede theremyd in maryage for euere.
Sothnesse ant myself sey this ant more,
For there nas hale ne hows to herborwe the peple,
Nayther logge ne lawnde ne lesewe so brode,
That vch feuld nas ful of folk alle aboute.
In myddys on morwe on a montayne heye
Was pyght [vp] a pauelion, proud for the nones,
An ten thowsound of tentus teled by sydes
Of knyghtus of contrays ant commiers aboute,
For sysores, for sompnorus, for syllares ant bygares,
For lered, for lewed, for laboreres in thowne—
Alle to wyttenesse wel wat the wryt wolde,
In wat manere that Mede in meble was sesed,
Ant to by fastened wyth Fals the fyn ys arered.
Thenne Fauel fecheth here forth ant to Fals taketh,
In forward that Falsede schal fynde ‘here’ for euere
Ant to be boun at ys bede at bord ant at bedde,
As sire Symonye wyl segge, to sewen ys wylle.
Symonye ant Cyuyle thenne standeth forth
Ant vnfoldeth the feffement that Fals hath ymaked.
Thus bygynneth thyse gomes ant gredeth ful heye:
“Wythet ant wytnesseth that wonyeth on erthe,
That Y, Fauel, feffe Falsnesse to Mede,
To be prynses of pruyde in pore ant in ryche,
Wyth alle the lordchepe of lecherye a lengthe ant of brede,
Wyth the erldom of enuye for euere to laste,
Ant alle the counte of couetyse yknowen aboute,
As in vsurye, in auaryse, in othur cheuysawnses,
Tyl that glotenye be ygraue here glorye to deure,
Wyth the seynewrye of slewethe Y sese hem togydere,
They to habbe ant to holde, ant here herrys aftur,
Wyth alle the portenaunce of purgatorie into the pyne of elle,
Yelding for thys thyng at one yeres ende
Here sowles to Satanas to synken in pyne,
There to wonyen wyth Wrong, wyle God ys in heuene.”
In wyttnesse of wych thyng Wrong was the furste,
Ant Peres the pardoner of Sent Poules chirche,
Ant Bette the bedel of Bokynghamschire,
Ant Reynald the reue of Rotlonde sokene,
Monde the myllare, ant mony mo othur.
In the date of deul thys dede ys aseled
By syght of syre Symonye ant Cyuyles leue.
Yf ye wyl weten of Wrong, Y wyl yow fayre schewe
Bothe of Fauel ant Falsede that myche folk apeyreth.
For yut Y kneled on my knes ant cryed here of grace
Ant seyde, “Mercy, madame, for Marie loue of heune
That bar that blysful barn that bought [vs] on the rode!
Kenne me for youre cortesye the False for to knowe.”
“Loke on the lifth half,” quad sche, “ant lo, were a standet,
Bothe Fauel ant False ant ys feres monye.
Yf thow wylnes to wytte, lo, were they stande.”
I loked on my lifth half, as the lady me thaughte,
Ant was ware of a wuiman worthely yclothed,
Yporfyled in pelure, the purest on erthe,
Ycrowned in a crowne, the kyng hatht no bettre.
Alle here fyue fyngres were fretted wyth ryngus,
Wyth ryche rubius as rede as a glede,
In red scarlet yrobed ant rybanes of golde:
There ys no quene queyntor that quyk ys on molde.
53
That ys Mede the mayde,” quad he, “hath nuyed me ful ofte
Ant laked my lore to lordus aboute.
In the Pope paleys he ys pryue as mysylfe,
Ant so scholde sche nat be, for Wrong ys here syre.
Out of Wrong sche wax to wrothurhele monye:
I howghte ben herrer than he, Y com a bettre.
Tomorwe worth the maryage mad of Mede ant of Fals:
Fauel wyth fayr speche hath forged hem togyderes,
Ant Gyle hath bygo here so, he graunthet alle here wylle,
Ac alle ys Lyares ledyng that they lye togyderes.
Tomorwe worth the maryage ymad, as Y telle:
There myght thow wytte, yf þou wylt, wyche they ben alle
That longeth to thys lordschipe, the lasse ant the more.
Knowe hem there, if thow canst, ant kepe the fro hem alle,
Yf thow wylnest to wone wyth Treweth in ys blisse.
Y may no lengor lette, lord Y the bykenne—
Ant bycome a god man, for eny couetyse, Y rede!”
Alle the ryche retenanse that regneht wyth False
Were bede to this bruydale on bothe to the sydes.
Sire Symonye ys ofsent to sele the chartres
Ant alle the notaryes by name, that they noen fayle,
To sette on here sygnes as Symonye wyl bydde.
Cyuyle ys sompned to sese alle the londus
That Fauel ant Fals by eny fyn haldeth,
To feffe Mede theremyd in maryage for euere.
Sothnesse ant myself sey this ant more,
54
Nayther logge ne lawnde ne lesewe so brode,
That vch feuld nas ful of folk alle aboute.
In myddys on morwe on a montayne heye
Was pyght [vp] a pauelion, proud for the nones,
An ten thowsound of tentus teled by sydes
Of knyghtus of contrays ant commiers aboute,
For sysores, for sompnorus, for syllares ant bygares,
For lered, for lewed, for laboreres in thowne—
Alle to wyttenesse wel wat the wryt wolde,
In wat manere that Mede in meble was sesed,
Ant to by fastened wyth Fals the fyn ys arered.
Thenne Fauel fecheth here forth ant to Fals taketh,
In forward that Falsede schal fynde ‘here’ for euere
Ant to be boun at ys bede at bord ant at bedde,
As sire Symonye wyl segge, to sewen ys wylle.
Symonye ant Cyuyle thenne standeth forth
Ant vnfoldeth the feffement that Fals hath ymaked.
Thus bygynneth thyse gomes ant gredeth ful heye:
“Wythet ant wytnesseth that wonyeth on erthe,
That Y, Fauel, feffe Falsnesse to Mede,
To be prynses of pruyde in pore ant in ryche,
Wyth alle the lordchepe of lecherye a lengthe ant of brede,
Wyth the erldom of enuye for euere to laste,
Ant alle the counte of couetyse yknowen aboute,
55
Tyl that glotenye be ygraue here glorye to deure,
Wyth the seynewrye of slewethe Y sese hem togydere,
They to habbe ant to holde, ant here herrys aftur,
Wyth alle the portenaunce of purgatorie into the pyne of elle,
Yelding for thys thyng at one yeres ende
Here sowles to Satanas to synken in pyne,
There to wonyen wyth Wrong, wyle God ys in heuene.”
In wyttnesse of wych thyng Wrong was the furste,
Ant Peres the pardoner of Sent Poules chirche,
Ant Bette the bedel of Bokynghamschire,
Ant Reynald the reue of Rotlonde sokene,
Monde the myllare, ant mony mo othur.
In the date of deul thys dede ys aseled
By syght of syre Symonye ant Cyuyles leue.
Thenne tened hym Theologye wen he thys tale yherde
Ant seyde to [Cyuyle,] “Now sorwe on thy bokes,
Such weddingus to wyrche to wrathen the trewthe,
Ant ar thys wedding be wrought, wo the betyde!
For Mede ys moylere of Mendes engendret:
God grawnteth hymsylf to gyue Mede to Trewthe,
Ant thow hast gyue here to a gloten. Now God gyue the sorwe!
The tyxtus telleth nat so; Trewthe wot the sothe:
Dignus est operarius hys huyre to haue,
Ant thow hast faste here wyth False, we! fy on the lawe!
For al by lesyngus tow lyuest ant lechoures wercus.
Thow schalt abygge thys bargayn by my fadur sowle!
Sire Symonye ant thysylue schendeth holy chirche,
Wyth notaryes nysotes nuyest the peple,
Ant sowsest yow in synne wyth seynte Marye rentus.
Wel ye wyte, wernardus, but yf youre wyt fayle,
That Fals hys a faytor ant faytles of wercus,
Ant as a bastard ybore of Belsabubbes kynne,
Ant Mede ys a mayde, murgust on erthe—
A myghte kysse the kyng for cosyn, ant he wolde.
Ac wurcheth by wysdom ant by wyt aftur
Ant ledeth here to Londone there lewte hys handlet,
Yf eny lawe wyl loke they lygge togyderes.
Ant thow iustises iuggede here to be ioyned wyth False,
Yut beth ywar of the wedding, for wytty hys Trewthe,
For Consience ys of ys consayl ant knoweth yow vchone,
Ant yf he fynd yow in defawte ant wyt the fals hold,
Hyt schal besytte youre sowle ful sowre at the laste.”
Ant seyde to [Cyuyle,] “Now sorwe on thy bokes,
Such weddingus to wyrche to wrathen the trewthe,
Ant ar thys wedding be wrought, wo the betyde!
For Mede ys moylere of Mendes engendret:
God grawnteth hymsylf to gyue Mede to Trewthe,
Ant thow hast gyue here to a gloten. Now God gyue the sorwe!
The tyxtus telleth nat so; Trewthe wot the sothe:
Dignus est operarius hys huyre to haue,
56
For al by lesyngus tow lyuest ant lechoures wercus.
Thow schalt abygge thys bargayn by my fadur sowle!
Sire Symonye ant thysylue schendeth holy chirche,
Wyth notaryes nysotes nuyest the peple,
Ant sowsest yow in synne wyth seynte Marye rentus.
Wel ye wyte, wernardus, but yf youre wyt fayle,
That Fals hys a faytor ant faytles of wercus,
Ant as a bastard ybore of Belsabubbes kynne,
Ant Mede ys a mayde, murgust on erthe—
A myghte kysse the kyng for cosyn, ant he wolde.
Ac wurcheth by wysdom ant by wyt aftur
Ant ledeth here to Londone there lewte hys handlet,
Yf eny lawe wyl loke they lygge togyderes.
Ant thow iustises iuggede here to be ioyned wyth False,
Yut beth ywar of the wedding, for wytty hys Trewthe,
57
Ant yf he fynd yow in defawte ant wyt the fals hold,
Hyt schal besytte youre sowle ful sowre at the laste.”
Hereto assenthet Cyuyle, ac Symonye ne wolde
Tyl he haued syluer for hys seles ant signes togydderes.
Thenne fette Fauel forth florynes ynowe,
Ant bad Gyle [gyue] gold alle abowte
To Symonye ant Cyuyle ant sethe alle the othur,
Ant namelyche the notaryes that there noen fayle,
Ant feffe False Wytnesse wyt florynes ynowe,
“For he may Mede amaystrye ant make at my wylle.”
Tho thys gold was ygyue, gret was the thonkyng
To Fals ant to Fauel for here fayre yftus,
Ant comen to conforte fram care the false
Ant seyden, “Syre, certes, sese schal we nere
Tyl Mede be thy weded wyf thorw wyt of vs alle.
We han Mede amaystred thorw oure mury speche,
That he hath graunted to go wyth a god wylle
To Londone, to loke yf that lawe wolde
Jugge yow ioyntely in ioye togydderes.”
Thenne was Falsenesse fayn ant Fauel as blythe
Ant let sompne al ys segges in schyres aboute,
Ant bad hem alle be bow, beggares ant othur,
To wenden wyth hym to Westemynstre to wytnesse thys dede.
Thenne kared they for kaples to kayren hem thedur,
Ac Fauel bad feche forth foles ynowe,
Ant sette Mede on a scheryue yschoed al newe,
Ant Fals on a sysor that softeliche trotted,
Ant Fauel on fayr speche, fetysliche atyred.
Tyl he haued syluer for hys seles ant signes togydderes.
Thenne fette Fauel forth florynes ynowe,
Ant bad Gyle [gyue] gold alle abowte
To Symonye ant Cyuyle ant sethe alle the othur,
Ant namelyche the notaryes that there noen fayle,
Ant feffe False Wytnesse wyt florynes ynowe,
“For he may Mede amaystrye ant make at my wylle.”
Tho thys gold was ygyue, gret was the thonkyng
To Fals ant to Fauel for here fayre yftus,
Ant comen to conforte fram care the false
Ant seyden, “Syre, certes, sese schal we nere
Tyl Mede be thy weded wyf thorw wyt of vs alle.
We han Mede amaystred thorw oure mury speche,
That he hath graunted to go wyth a god wylle
To Londone, to loke yf that lawe wolde
Jugge yow ioyntely in ioye togydderes.”
Thenne was Falsenesse fayn ant Fauel as blythe
Ant let sompne al ys segges in schyres aboute,
Ant bad hem alle be bow, beggares ant othur,
To wenden wyth hym to Westemynstre to wytnesse thys dede.
Thenne kared they for kaples to kayren hem thedur,
Ac Fauel bad feche forth foles ynowe,
Ant sette Mede on a scheryue yschoed al newe,
Ant Fals on a sysor that softeliche trotted,
Ant Fauel on fayr speche, fetysliche atyred.
58
Thenne haued notaryes none, anuyed they were,
For Symonye ant Cyuyle scholde goen on here fete.
Thenne swor Cyuyle ant seyde by the rode
That sompnoures scholde be sadeled ant serue Symonye,
“Ant lat aparayle the prouisoures in palfrayes wyse:
Syre Symonye hymsylf schal sytte on here bakus,
For denes schulle ben dyght as destreres—
They schal bere thes byschopes tyl they be there.
Erchdekenus officiales, Y hote that they ben atyred,
For they schul serue mysylf that Cyuyle hatte;
Ant lat kartsadle the commessarye, oure kart schal he draw
Ant fetten oure vitayles of fornicatores,
Ant maketh Lyare a lankart to lede alle thys othur
As fobbes ant faytoures that on here fet rennes.”
Thenne Fals fareht forth ant Fauel togyderes,
Ant Mede in the myddus ant alle thys men aftur.
I haue no tome to telle the tayl that hem folewed
Of many manere men that on thys mold libbes,
Ac Gyle was forgoar ant gyde hem to lede.
Ac Sothnesse sey hym wel, seyde but lyte,
Ac fiched hym faste ant goth afore alle
Ant com to the kyingus court ant Consyence tolde.
Ant Conscience to the king carped yt aftur,
Ant how thys corsed companie that to the court wolde,
Of Symonye, of Cyuyle, ant seyde hym al togyderes
How Fauel ant Falsenesse fondet to lach Mede
To maryage, ant on wat manere hym lette,
Ant how Gyle gaf the gold to gomes abowte
To Symonye, to Cyuyle, ant seyde al togyderes,
Ant how Teologye tened hym ant traytowres hem called,
Ant seyde Trewthe for here trespas scholde tene hem vch one.
“By Cryst,” quad kyng tho, “ant Y cache myghte
Fals othur Fauel or eny of here feres,
Y wyl be wreke of tho wrechus that wyrchen so hylle,
Ant do hange hem by the hals ant alle that hem menthyneth.
Schal neuere man on this molde mempryse the leste,
But ryght as lawe loketh lat fal on hem alle
For eny mercy of Mede, by Marye of heuene!”
Ant comawnded a constable that com at the furst
To atache tho tyrauntes, “for eny tresor, Y hote!
Fetureth Falsenesse faste for eny skynes yftes,
Ant gurdeth of Gyeles heued—lat hym go no forthur—
Ant bryngeth Mede to me mawgre hem alle.
For Symonye ant Cyuyle scholde goen on here fete.
Thenne swor Cyuyle ant seyde by the rode
That sompnoures scholde be sadeled ant serue Symonye,
“Ant lat aparayle the prouisoures in palfrayes wyse:
Syre Symonye hymsylf schal sytte on here bakus,
For denes schulle ben dyght as destreres—
They schal bere thes byschopes tyl they be there.
Erchdekenus officiales, Y hote that they ben atyred,
For they schul serue mysylf that Cyuyle hatte;
Ant lat kartsadle the commessarye, oure kart schal he draw
Ant fetten oure vitayles of fornicatores,
Ant maketh Lyare a lankart to lede alle thys othur
As fobbes ant faytoures that on here fet rennes.”
Thenne Fals fareht forth ant Fauel togyderes,
Ant Mede in the myddus ant alle thys men aftur.
I haue no tome to telle the tayl that hem folewed
Of many manere men that on thys mold libbes,
Ac Gyle was forgoar ant gyde hem to lede.
Ac Sothnesse sey hym wel, seyde but lyte,
Ac fiched hym faste ant goth afore alle
59
Ant Conscience to the king carped yt aftur,
Ant how thys corsed companie that to the court wolde,
Of Symonye, of Cyuyle, ant seyde hym al togyderes
How Fauel ant Falsenesse fondet to lach Mede
To maryage, ant on wat manere hym lette,
Ant how Gyle gaf the gold to gomes abowte
To Symonye, to Cyuyle, ant seyde al togyderes,
Ant how Teologye tened hym ant traytowres hem called,
Ant seyde Trewthe for here trespas scholde tene hem vch one.
“By Cryst,” quad kyng tho, “ant Y cache myghte
Fals othur Fauel or eny of here feres,
Y wyl be wreke of tho wrechus that wyrchen so hylle,
Ant do hange hem by the hals ant alle that hem menthyneth.
Schal neuere man on this molde mempryse the leste,
But ryght as lawe loketh lat fal on hem alle
For eny mercy of Mede, by Marye of heuene!”
Ant comawnded a constable that com at the furst
To atache tho tyrauntes, “for eny tresor, Y hote!
Fetureth Falsenesse faste for eny skynes yftes,
Ant gurdeth of Gyeles heued—lat hym go no forthur—
Ant bryngeth Mede to me mawgre hem alle.
60
Symonye, sey hym Y sende hym to warne
That Holy Chyrche for hym worth harmed for euere;
Ant thow lache Lyare, lat hym nat askape
Tyl he be pot on the pylory for eny preyere, Y hote.”
Drede at the dore stod ant the dyne herde,
How the kyng konstables comaunded ant othur,
As seriauntes ant scheryues that schyres han to kepe;
Warned Fals fore ant ys feres alle.
Thenne Falsenesse for fere fley to the freres.
Gyle doth hym to, agast for to dye,
Ac marchawns mette wyth hym, made hym abyde,
Byschutten hym in here schoppe to schewen here ware;
Parayled hym as a prentys, the peple to serue.
Lyghtlyche Lyare lep away thenne,
Lurkynge thorw lanes, toluged of mony.
He was nawer welcome for ys mony tales,
But ouer al yhonted ant yhote trusse,
Tyl pardoners haued pyte, polled hym into howse,
Woschen ant wyped hym, wownden hym in cloutus,
Ant senten hym Sonendayus wyth seles to chirches,
Ant gaf pardoune for pans poundmele aboute.
Thenne lowred leches ant letres they hym sent
For to wonye wyth hem, wateres to loke.
Spisores speke to hym to spyen here thyngus,
For he kowthe of here craft ant knew mony gummes;
Ac mynstrales ant messageres mette wyth hym ones
Ant helden hym half yere ant eleue dayes.
Freres wyth fayre speche fetten hym thennes;
For knowyng of comares coped hym as a frere,
Ac he hath leue to lepe out as ofte as hym licut
Ant ys welcome wen a wol, woneth wyth hem ofte.
Alle fledde for fere, saue Fauel ant Mede,
Ac bothe to trembled, atached tho they were.
That Holy Chyrche for hym worth harmed for euere;
Ant thow lache Lyare, lat hym nat askape
Tyl he be pot on the pylory for eny preyere, Y hote.”
Drede at the dore stod ant the dyne herde,
How the kyng konstables comaunded ant othur,
As seriauntes ant scheryues that schyres han to kepe;
Warned Fals fore ant ys feres alle.
Thenne Falsenesse for fere fley to the freres.
Gyle doth hym to, agast for to dye,
Ac marchawns mette wyth hym, made hym abyde,
Byschutten hym in here schoppe to schewen here ware;
Parayled hym as a prentys, the peple to serue.
Lyghtlyche Lyare lep away thenne,
Lurkynge thorw lanes, toluged of mony.
He was nawer welcome for ys mony tales,
But ouer al yhonted ant yhote trusse,
Tyl pardoners haued pyte, polled hym into howse,
Woschen ant wyped hym, wownden hym in cloutus,
Ant senten hym Sonendayus wyth seles to chirches,
Ant gaf pardoune for pans poundmele aboute.
Thenne lowred leches ant letres they hym sent
For to wonye wyth hem, wateres to loke.
Spisores speke to hym to spyen here thyngus,
61
Ac mynstrales ant messageres mette wyth hym ones
Ant helden hym half yere ant eleue dayes.
Freres wyth fayre speche fetten hym thennes;
For knowyng of comares coped hym as a frere,
Ac he hath leue to lepe out as ofte as hym licut
Ant ys welcome wen a wol, woneth wyth hem ofte.
Alle fledde for fere, saue Fauel ant Mede,
Ac bothe to trembled, atached tho they were.
62
Passus Tercius
Now ys Mede the mayde, ant no mo of hem alle,
Wyth bedles ant bayles ybrought to the king.
The kyng cald a clerk, Y can nat ys name,
To take Mede the mayde ant maken here at ese.
“Y schal assay here mysylf ant sothelyche apose
Wat man of thys world that here were leuest;
Ant yf he wyrche by wyt ant my wille folwe,
Y wille fo[r]gyue here that gult, so me God helpe.”
Corteyseliche thys clerk, as the kyng hyghte,
Ladde this lady to lofte, that Mede his yhote.
Ac there was murthe ant mynstracie Mede to plese:
That wonyeth at Westmenstre wurcheped here alle.
Gentelyche wyth ioye the justises monye
Busked hem to the bour there the buyrde dweld;
Conforted here kyndelyche by cleregyus leue,
Seyden, “Mourne nat, Mede, ne mak thow no sorwe,
For we wyl wysse kyng ant thy way schape
For to wedde at thy wille were thow lef licuth,
For al conscienses cast ant craft, as we trowe.”
Myldelyche Mede mercyed hem alle
Of theyr grete godnesse, ant gaf hem vchone
Coupus of clene gold, coppus of syluer,
Rynges wyth rubyes ant rychesses monye,
The leste mon of here meyne a moten of gold.
Thenne lawȝte they leue, this lordus, at Mede.
Wyth that come clerkus, conforted here the same
Ant beden here be blythe, “for we beth thyn owne
For to wyrche thy wylle, wyle thow myȝt loke.”
Hendelyche he thenne byhyghte hem the same,
“To loue yow lelely wyle my lyf deureth,
Ant in the consistorye at court do calle youre name
Ant bugge benefices were yow best lycuth,
Porchase prouendres thereto, wyle my pans lasteth.
Schal no lowedenesse lette hem that Y louye
That they nar furst avaunsed, for Yc am yknowe
There connyngge clerkus cleketh byhyend.”
Wyth bedles ant bayles ybrought to the king.
The kyng cald a clerk, Y can nat ys name,
To take Mede the mayde ant maken here at ese.
“Y schal assay here mysylf ant sothelyche apose
Wat man of thys world that here were leuest;
Ant yf he wyrche by wyt ant my wille folwe,
Y wille fo[r]gyue here that gult, so me God helpe.”
Corteyseliche thys clerk, as the kyng hyghte,
Ladde this lady to lofte, that Mede his yhote.
Ac there was murthe ant mynstracie Mede to plese:
That wonyeth at Westmenstre wurcheped here alle.
Gentelyche wyth ioye the justises monye
Busked hem to the bour there the buyrde dweld;
Conforted here kyndelyche by cleregyus leue,
Seyden, “Mourne nat, Mede, ne mak thow no sorwe,
For we wyl wysse kyng ant thy way schape
For to wedde at thy wille were thow lef licuth,
For al conscienses cast ant craft, as we trowe.”
Myldelyche Mede mercyed hem alle
Of theyr grete godnesse, ant gaf hem vchone
Coupus of clene gold, coppus of syluer,
63
The leste mon of here meyne a moten of gold.
Thenne lawȝte they leue, this lordus, at Mede.
Wyth that come clerkus, conforted here the same
Ant beden here be blythe, “for we beth thyn owne
For to wyrche thy wylle, wyle thow myȝt loke.”
Hendelyche he thenne byhyghte hem the same,
“To loue yow lelely wyle my lyf deureth,
Ant in the consistorye at court do calle youre name
Ant bugge benefices were yow best lycuth,
Porchase prouendres thereto, wyle my pans lasteth.
Schal no lowedenesse lette hem that Y louye
That they nar furst avaunsed, for Yc am yknowe
There connyngge clerkus cleketh byhyend.”
The kying fro consayl com, kalde aftur Mede
Ant ofsent [hire] as swythe. Seriauns here fette
Ant browghte here to boure wyth a blithe chere.
Corteyslyche the kyng commesed to telle
To Mede the mayde, meled his wordus:
“Vnwyttyly thow, womman, wrowt hast ofte,
Ac worse wrowghtest nere as wen þow Fals toke.
Ac Y fortgyue that gult ant graunte the grace
Ant fro hennes to thy deth day do þow so no more.
I haue a knyȝt, Conscience, com lat fro byyonde;
Yf he wylneth the to wyue, wolte þow hym haue?”
“Ye, lord,” quad that lady, “lord hit me forbede
But Y be holy at youre heste—lat hange me ellus!”
Ant ofsent [hire] as swythe. Seriauns here fette
64
Corteyslyche the kyng commesed to telle
To Mede the mayde, meled his wordus:
“Vnwyttyly thow, womman, wrowt hast ofte,
Ac worse wrowghtest nere as wen þow Fals toke.
Ac Y fortgyue that gult ant graunte the grace
Ant fro hennes to thy deth day do þow so no more.
I haue a knyȝt, Conscience, com lat fro byyonde;
Yf he wylneth the to wyue, wolte þow hym haue?”
“Ye, lord,” quad that lady, “lord hit me forbede
But Y be holy at youre heste—lat hange me ellus!”
Thenne was Conscience ycald to come ant apere
Byfor the kyng ant ys consayl of clerkus ant othur.
Kneled Conscience ant to the kyng lowted,
Ant wat that ys wille were ant wat he do scholde.
“Wylt þow wedde thys lady, ant Y wyl assente?
For he ys fayn of thy fellawschippe ant for to be thy make.”
Quad Consciense to the kyng, “Cryst hit me forbede!
Ar Y wedded such a wyf, wo me bytyde!
Sche ys frele of here fayth, fikel of here speche.
A maketh men mysdo many score tyme.
In triste of here tresor he teneht ful monye;
Wyues ant wedewus wantownesse he thechet,
Lereth hem lecherye that loueyeth here yftus.
Youre fader a feld thorw false byheste;
Poyseneth popes, apeyreth holy chirche.
Ys nat a bettre bawde, by hym that me made,
Bytwene heuene ant helle ant erthe thow me sowte.
Sche ys tykel of here tayl, talewys of tonge,
As comewn as the cartway to knaues ant to alle,
To monekus, to mynstrales, to myseles in hegges,
Sysoures ant sompneres, such men here preyseth.
A doth men lesen here land, ye ant here lyf bothe.
Scheryues of schires were schent yf he nere,
For he lat passe prysones, payeth for hem ofte:
A gyueth the gaylares gold ant grotus togyderes,
To vnfetere the fals, fle were hym licut;
Taketh Trewthe by the top, tethereth hym faste,
Ant hangeth hym for hatrede that harmed nere.
To be corsed in the consistorye a cownteth nat a rysche,
For a copeth the comyssarye, coteth ys clercus;
Sche ys assoyled thus sone as heresilf licuth.
He may ney as myche do in a monthe onus
As youre secrete sel in syxe scor dayes;
For he ys pryue wyth the pope, prouisores hit knoweth,
For Symonye ant heresilf aseleth here bullus.
A blesseth thes byschopus, thow they be lewed;
Prouendreth parsones, prestes he meynteneth,
To habbe lemmanes ant luttebys alle here lyf days
Ant bryngeth forth barnes ayeyn forbode lawes.
There he ys wel wyth a kyng, wo his the rewme,
For he ys fauorable to Fals ant falleth ryght ofte.
Barones ant burgeys he bryngeth into sorwe.
By Jesus, wyth here jueles youre iustyses a schendeth
Ant lythth ayeyn lawe ant lette hem the gate,
That fayth may nat haue ys forth, here floreynes goth so thykke;
The mase for a mene man, thouȝ a mote euere,
Wythouten mony or mede or morgage ys landus:
Lawe ys so lordlyche ant loth to make hynde.
Wythouten presentus or pans a pleseth ful fewe;
He lat lawe as here lust, ant louedays makuth;
Clergyse ant coueytyse he coupleth togydere.
Thys ys the lyf of that lady. Now lord yf here sorwe,
Ant alle that meyntyneth here men meschaunce hem bytyde!
For pore men han no pouer to pleyne hem, they hey smerte:
Such a mayster ys Mede among men of gode.”
Thenne morned Mede, mened here to the kyng
To haue space to speke, spede yf a myghte.
The kynge graunted here grace wyth a god wylle:
“Excuse yf thow canst, Y can no more schewen,
For Conscience akusseth to congey the for euere.”
“Nay, lord,” quad that lady, “leue hym the worse,
Wen [ye] wyten wyturly were the wrong lyges.
There that meschef ys gret, Mede may helpe;
Ant thow knowest, Conscience, Y com nat to chyde
Ne to depraue thy persone wyth a proud herte.
Wel thow wost, weye, but yf tow wyl gabbe.
Thow hast hanged on myn half elleuene tymes,
Ant eke ygrype my gold, gef hit were thow lyked.
Ac wy thow wratheste the now, wndor me thynkeuth,
For yut Y may as Y myghte menske the wyth yftus,
Ant multiplye thy monhede more thenne thow knowest.
Ac thow hast defamed me foule afor the kyng here;
That thow seydest, for soth schalt thow nere fynde:
For me were leuere by oure lord to lyggen in peyne
Wyle that thys world last, then wyrchen so ylle.
For kyld Y nere no king, ne consayled thereaftur,
Ne dede as thow demyst—Y do yt on the kynge.
In Normawndye nas a nat anuyed for my sake;
Ac thow thysylf sothelyche schamedest ofte,
Crope into kaban for cold of thy nayles,
Wendest that wyntur wolde last euere;
Draddyst the to dey for a dymme clowde
Ant hastedest hammard for hungur of thy wombe.
Wythoute pyte, thow pylor, pore men thow robbedest,
Ant bere here bras at thy bak to Kaleys to sylle.
There Y lefte wyth my lord, ys lyf for to saue,
Ant made ys men murye ant mournyng to leue.
Y battered hem on the bak, boldede here herte,
Dede hem hoppe for hope to haue me at wylle.
Haued Y be marchal of ys men, by Mary of heuene,
Y durst haue leyd my lyf ant no lasse wedde,
A scholde haue be lord of that lond a lengthe ant of brede,
Ant eke kyng of that kyth, ys kyn for to helpe—
Ye, the leste brol of ys blod a barones pere.
Kowardelyche thow, Conscience, conseylest hym thennes,
To leuen ys lordschepe for a litel syluer
That ys the rychest rewme that reyn ouer houes.
Ac, Conscience, Cryst wot, as Y can descryue,
Out of Northfolk or Normawndye thy name was yfounde.
For thow canst selle the cow y calf ant wythouten,
Halden wyth hym ant wyth here, ay as the licuth.
Freres fyndeth the a frend that thow furst blamedest:
Thyselue art asentaunt that they schal men schryue.
Furst thow corue hem a cope, Conscience, thyselue,
Ant comawndest vche couent coueytyse to lete,
Ant nyme nat of no man but as nede hascheth.
Now ast thow coped hem in coueytyse, ant cumseth to ryde.
That weren woned to wade in wynteres ful colde,
Now beth they boted, tho bewsoun, ant bayard stowlyche bestrydeth.
The bourlyokest bornet ant blanket to selle,
They byggen hyt, nat beggen hit, to bakken thereinne.
In delys of lecherye ys lycam achoceth
That such wedus wereth, Y wyl yt avowe.
For lecherye ys delyt, ant eke aloft bothe
Letred ant vnlered lewdelyche thow techest:
Vnnethe ys ther eny man that nolde be ryche,
Ant alle the wyttus that a wot to wynnygge he schapeth.
Of alle manere men Mede ys desyred;
Conscience but at consayl countheth ful fewe:
Marchauns myghte forbere the, none man bettre.
Conscience in couetyse clercus hath robed,
Ant soyleth men for syluer, we sen wel ouresylue.
Conscience ys the cumsyng of alle skynes werkus:
Be hyt wel, be hit wo, a wot hyt at the furst.
Ys maystry ys aboue me that Mede am yhote.
Wythouten hys wyt wyrch Y not, God wot the sothe,
That thow ne art furst foundur: god fayth it knoweth.”
Byfor the kyng ant ys consayl of clerkus ant othur.
Kneled Conscience ant to the kyng lowted,
Ant wat that ys wille were ant wat he do scholde.
“Wylt þow wedde thys lady, ant Y wyl assente?
For he ys fayn of thy fellawschippe ant for to be thy make.”
Quad Consciense to the kyng, “Cryst hit me forbede!
Ar Y wedded such a wyf, wo me bytyde!
Sche ys frele of here fayth, fikel of here speche.
A maketh men mysdo many score tyme.
In triste of here tresor he teneht ful monye;
Wyues ant wedewus wantownesse he thechet,
Lereth hem lecherye that loueyeth here yftus.
Youre fader a feld thorw false byheste;
Poyseneth popes, apeyreth holy chirche.
Ys nat a bettre bawde, by hym that me made,
Bytwene heuene ant helle ant erthe thow me sowte.
Sche ys tykel of here tayl, talewys of tonge,
65
To monekus, to mynstrales, to myseles in hegges,
Sysoures ant sompneres, such men here preyseth.
A doth men lesen here land, ye ant here lyf bothe.
Scheryues of schires were schent yf he nere,
For he lat passe prysones, payeth for hem ofte:
A gyueth the gaylares gold ant grotus togyderes,
To vnfetere the fals, fle were hym licut;
Taketh Trewthe by the top, tethereth hym faste,
Ant hangeth hym for hatrede that harmed nere.
To be corsed in the consistorye a cownteth nat a rysche,
For a copeth the comyssarye, coteth ys clercus;
Sche ys assoyled thus sone as heresilf licuth.
He may ney as myche do in a monthe onus
As youre secrete sel in syxe scor dayes;
For he ys pryue wyth the pope, prouisores hit knoweth,
For Symonye ant heresilf aseleth here bullus.
A blesseth thes byschopus, thow they be lewed;
Prouendreth parsones, prestes he meynteneth,
To habbe lemmanes ant luttebys alle here lyf days
Ant bryngeth forth barnes ayeyn forbode lawes.
There he ys wel wyth a kyng, wo his the rewme,
For he ys fauorable to Fals ant falleth ryght ofte.
Barones ant burgeys he bryngeth into sorwe.
By Jesus, wyth here jueles youre iustyses a schendeth
Ant lythth ayeyn lawe ant lette hem the gate,
That fayth may nat haue ys forth, here floreynes goth so thykke;
The mase for a mene man, thouȝ a mote euere,
Wythouten mony or mede or morgage ys landus:
66
Wythouten presentus or pans a pleseth ful fewe;
He lat lawe as here lust, ant louedays makuth;
Clergyse ant coueytyse he coupleth togydere.
Thys ys the lyf of that lady. Now lord yf here sorwe,
Ant alle that meyntyneth here men meschaunce hem bytyde!
For pore men han no pouer to pleyne hem, they hey smerte:
Such a mayster ys Mede among men of gode.”
Thenne morned Mede, mened here to the kyng
To haue space to speke, spede yf a myghte.
The kynge graunted here grace wyth a god wylle:
“Excuse yf thow canst, Y can no more schewen,
For Conscience akusseth to congey the for euere.”
“Nay, lord,” quad that lady, “leue hym the worse,
Wen [ye] wyten wyturly were the wrong lyges.
There that meschef ys gret, Mede may helpe;
Ant thow knowest, Conscience, Y com nat to chyde
Ne to depraue thy persone wyth a proud herte.
Wel thow wost, weye, but yf tow wyl gabbe.
Thow hast hanged on myn half elleuene tymes,
Ant eke ygrype my gold, gef hit were thow lyked.
Ac wy thow wratheste the now, wndor me thynkeuth,
For yut Y may as Y myghte menske the wyth yftus,
Ant multiplye thy monhede more thenne thow knowest.
Ac thow hast defamed me foule afor the kyng here;
That thow seydest, for soth schalt thow nere fynde:
For me were leuere by oure lord to lyggen in peyne
67
For kyld Y nere no king, ne consayled thereaftur,
Ne dede as thow demyst—Y do yt on the kynge.
In Normawndye nas a nat anuyed for my sake;
Ac thow thysylf sothelyche schamedest ofte,
Crope into kaban for cold of thy nayles,
Wendest that wyntur wolde last euere;
Draddyst the to dey for a dymme clowde
Ant hastedest hammard for hungur of thy wombe.
Wythoute pyte, thow pylor, pore men thow robbedest,
Ant bere here bras at thy bak to Kaleys to sylle.
There Y lefte wyth my lord, ys lyf for to saue,
Ant made ys men murye ant mournyng to leue.
Y battered hem on the bak, boldede here herte,
Dede hem hoppe for hope to haue me at wylle.
Haued Y be marchal of ys men, by Mary of heuene,
Y durst haue leyd my lyf ant no lasse wedde,
A scholde haue be lord of that lond a lengthe ant of brede,
Ant eke kyng of that kyth, ys kyn for to helpe—
Ye, the leste brol of ys blod a barones pere.
Kowardelyche thow, Conscience, conseylest hym thennes,
To leuen ys lordschepe for a litel syluer
That ys the rychest rewme that reyn ouer houes.
Ac, Conscience, Cryst wot, as Y can descryue,
68
For thow canst selle the cow y calf ant wythouten,
Halden wyth hym ant wyth here, ay as the licuth.
Freres fyndeth the a frend that thow furst blamedest:
Thyselue art asentaunt that they schal men schryue.
Furst thow corue hem a cope, Conscience, thyselue,
Ant comawndest vche couent coueytyse to lete,
Ant nyme nat of no man but as nede hascheth.
Now ast thow coped hem in coueytyse, ant cumseth to ryde.
That weren woned to wade in wynteres ful colde,
Now beth they boted, tho bewsoun, ant bayard stowlyche bestrydeth.
The bourlyokest bornet ant blanket to selle,
They byggen hyt, nat beggen hit, to bakken thereinne.
In delys of lecherye ys lycam achoceth
That such wedus wereth, Y wyl yt avowe.
For lecherye ys delyt, ant eke aloft bothe
Letred ant vnlered lewdelyche thow techest:
Vnnethe ys ther eny man that nolde be ryche,
69
Of alle manere men Mede ys desyred;
Conscience but at consayl countheth ful fewe:
Marchauns myghte forbere the, none man bettre.
Conscience in couetyse clercus hath robed,
Ant soyleth men for syluer, we sen wel ouresylue.
Conscience ys the cumsyng of alle skynes werkus:
Be hyt wel, be hit wo, a wot hyt at the furst.
Ys maystry ys aboue me that Mede am yhote.
Wythouten hys wyt wyrch Y not, God wot the sothe,
That thow ne art furst foundur: god fayth it knoweth.”
70
Passus Quartus
“Seseth, seseth,” sayde the kynge, “Y soffre yow no lengur:
Ye schal sawtene for sothe ant serue me bothe.
Kysse here,” quad the kyng, “Conscience, Y hote!”
“Nay, by Cryst,” quad Conscience, “congeye me arre!
But Resoun radde me thertyl, rather wyll Y deye.”
“Ant Y comawnde,” quad the kyng to Consciencie thenne,
“Rape the to ryde ant Resoun that thow feche.
Comawnde hym that he come my consayl to here,
For he schal rewle my rewme, rede me the beste
Of Mede ant mo othur ant wat man schal here wedde,
Ant kounte wyth the, Conscyence, so me Cryst helpe,
How thow lerest the peple, lered ant lewed.”
“Y am fayn of þat forward,” seyth the freke thenne,
And ryt ryght to Resoun ant rowneth in ys here;
Seyde hym as the kying sente ant senes tok ys leue.
“I schal araye me to ryde,” quad Resoun, “reste the the wil.”
Ant cald Tomme Trewe-tonge-telle-me-no-talus-
Ne-lesyngus-to-lawȝe-of-for-Y-loued-hit-nere.
“Sette my sadel vp on Suffre-tyl-Y-se-my-tyme,
Ant lat warryoke Wyl wyth stronge wytty gurthus.
Honge on hym the heuye brydel to holde ys heued lowe,
For yut wyl he make mony a wehe ar we be there.”
Thenne Conscyence on ys kapel kayres forth faste,
Ant Resoun ryt forth wyth hym ryght to the kyng.
Ac on Wareyn Wysdom ant Wytty ys fere
Folwed hem faste, for they haued to done
In the cheker ant in chaunserye, to be descharged of thyngus;
And ryden faste, for Resoun schold rede hem the beste
For to sauen hemsylf fro schame ant fro harmes.
Ac Conscyence com arst to court by a myle
Ant romed forth wyth Resoun ryght to the kyng.
Corteyslyche the [kyng tho] com aye Resoun,
Ant bytwene hymsylf ant ys sone sette hym a benche,
Ant worden ful wysly a gret wyle togyderes.
Thenne com Pes in the parlement ant potte vp a bille,
How Wronge ayeyne ys wylle haued ys wyf take,
Ant how a rauessched Rose, Reynaldus loue,
Ant Margrete of here maydenhod maugre here checus:
“Bothe my ges ant my grys ys gadelynges fecheth;
Y dar nat for fere of hym fyghte ne chyde.
A borwed of me bayard ant broughte ayeyn nere,
Ne no ferthyng therefore, for hought Y cowthe plede.
A meynteyneth ys men to morthre myn hewes;
Forstalleth my fayres, fyghteth in my chepyng,
Brekth vp my bernus dore, berth awey my wete,
Taketh me but a tayle for ten quarter otes,
Ant yut a bat me thereto, lyth be my mayde.
Y nam nat hardy for hym vnnethe to loke.”
The kyng knewe he seyde sothe, for Conscyence hym tolde,
Ant Sothenesse swor hit was sothe that he tolde.
Ant thenne was Wronge wo ant Wysdom a sought
To make ys pays wyth ys pans ant profred hym monye,
Ant seyde, “Haued Y loue of my lord, lytel wold Y rech
Thow Pes ant ys pouer pleynen hem euere.”
Wysdom wan tho ant so dede Wyt alse,
For that Wrong haued ywrought so wyked a dede,
Ant warned Wrong tho wyth such a wys tale:
“Ho so wyrcheth be wyl, wrathe maketh ofte.
Y seg by thysylf, thow schalt hyt sone fynde:
But yf Mede hit make, thy meschef ys vppe;
Bothe thy lyf ant thy londus lyth in ys grace.”
Wrong thenne on Wysdom weped faste
To helpe hym for his [OMITTED]ant handi-dandy payed.
Thenne Wysdom and Wyt wenten togyderes
An nomen Mede myd hem mercy to wynne.
Pes potte forth ys heued an his panne blody:
“Wythouten gult, God wot, gat Y this scathe.”
Conscience ant the kyng knewe wel the sothe
Ant wysten wel that Wrong was a schrewe euere.
Ac Wysdom ant Wyt were aboute faste
To ouercome the kyng thorw catel yf they myghte.
The kyng swor by Cryst ant by ys crowne bothe
That Wrong for ys wercus schold wo tholye,
Ant comawnded a constable to caste hym in yrenes:
“A schal nat this vij yer yse ys fete ones.”
“God wot,” quad Wysdom, “that were nat the beste.
Ant he amendes mowe make, lat meynprise hym haue
Ant be borw for ys bale, beggen hym mercy;
Amende that a mysdede, ant eueremore the bettre.”
Wyt acordede therewyth ant seyde the same:
“Beture ys that bote bale adown brynge
Then bale be ybete ant bote nere the bettre.”
Thenne gan Mede to meke here ant mercy a bysowte,
Ant profred Pes a present alle of puyre gold
Ant seyde, “Haue thys of me to amendy thy scath,
For Y wyl wage for Wrong a wyl do so no more.”
Pyteuselyche Pees thenne preyed the kynge
To haue mercy on that [man that] mysdede hym ofte:
“For he hath wageth me wyl, as Wysdom hym taughte;
Y forgyue hym that gult wyth a god wylle.
So that ye assente, Y can sey no more,
For Me[de] hath made my mendus, Y may no more aske.”
Ye schal sawtene for sothe ant serue me bothe.
Kysse here,” quad the kyng, “Conscience, Y hote!”
“Nay, by Cryst,” quad Conscience, “congeye me arre!
But Resoun radde me thertyl, rather wyll Y deye.”
“Ant Y comawnde,” quad the kyng to Consciencie thenne,
“Rape the to ryde ant Resoun that thow feche.
Comawnde hym that he come my consayl to here,
For he schal rewle my rewme, rede me the beste
Of Mede ant mo othur ant wat man schal here wedde,
Ant kounte wyth the, Conscyence, so me Cryst helpe,
How thow lerest the peple, lered ant lewed.”
“Y am fayn of þat forward,” seyth the freke thenne,
And ryt ryght to Resoun ant rowneth in ys here;
Seyde hym as the kying sente ant senes tok ys leue.
“I schal araye me to ryde,” quad Resoun, “reste the the wil.”
Ant cald Tomme Trewe-tonge-telle-me-no-talus-
Ne-lesyngus-to-lawȝe-of-for-Y-loued-hit-nere.
“Sette my sadel vp on Suffre-tyl-Y-se-my-tyme,
Ant lat warryoke Wyl wyth stronge wytty gurthus.
Honge on hym the heuye brydel to holde ys heued lowe,
71
Thenne Conscyence on ys kapel kayres forth faste,
Ant Resoun ryt forth wyth hym ryght to the kyng.
Ac on Wareyn Wysdom ant Wytty ys fere
Folwed hem faste, for they haued to done
In the cheker ant in chaunserye, to be descharged of thyngus;
And ryden faste, for Resoun schold rede hem the beste
For to sauen hemsylf fro schame ant fro harmes.
Ac Conscyence com arst to court by a myle
Ant romed forth wyth Resoun ryght to the kyng.
Corteyslyche the [kyng tho] com aye Resoun,
Ant bytwene hymsylf ant ys sone sette hym a benche,
Ant worden ful wysly a gret wyle togyderes.
Thenne com Pes in the parlement ant potte vp a bille,
How Wronge ayeyne ys wylle haued ys wyf take,
Ant how a rauessched Rose, Reynaldus loue,
Ant Margrete of here maydenhod maugre here checus:
“Bothe my ges ant my grys ys gadelynges fecheth;
Y dar nat for fere of hym fyghte ne chyde.
A borwed of me bayard ant broughte ayeyn nere,
Ne no ferthyng therefore, for hought Y cowthe plede.
A meynteyneth ys men to morthre myn hewes;
Forstalleth my fayres, fyghteth in my chepyng,
Brekth vp my bernus dore, berth awey my wete,
Taketh me but a tayle for ten quarter otes,
Ant yut a bat me thereto, lyth be my mayde.
Y nam nat hardy for hym vnnethe to loke.”
The kyng knewe he seyde sothe, for Conscyence hym tolde,
Ant Sothenesse swor hit was sothe that he tolde.
Ant thenne was Wronge wo ant Wysdom a sought
72
Ant seyde, “Haued Y loue of my lord, lytel wold Y rech
Thow Pes ant ys pouer pleynen hem euere.”
Wysdom wan tho ant so dede Wyt alse,
For that Wrong haued ywrought so wyked a dede,
Ant warned Wrong tho wyth such a wys tale:
“Ho so wyrcheth be wyl, wrathe maketh ofte.
Y seg by thysylf, thow schalt hyt sone fynde:
But yf Mede hit make, thy meschef ys vppe;
Bothe thy lyf ant thy londus lyth in ys grace.”
Wrong thenne on Wysdom weped faste
To helpe hym for his [OMITTED]ant handi-dandy payed.
Thenne Wysdom and Wyt wenten togyderes
An nomen Mede myd hem mercy to wynne.
Pes potte forth ys heued an his panne blody:
“Wythouten gult, God wot, gat Y this scathe.”
Conscience ant the kyng knewe wel the sothe
Ant wysten wel that Wrong was a schrewe euere.
Ac Wysdom ant Wyt were aboute faste
To ouercome the kyng thorw catel yf they myghte.
The kyng swor by Cryst ant by ys crowne bothe
That Wrong for ys wercus schold wo tholye,
Ant comawnded a constable to caste hym in yrenes:
73
“God wot,” quad Wysdom, “that were nat the beste.
Ant he amendes mowe make, lat meynprise hym haue
Ant be borw for ys bale, beggen hym mercy;
Amende that a mysdede, ant eueremore the bettre.”
Wyt acordede therewyth ant seyde the same:
“Beture ys that bote bale adown brynge
Then bale be ybete ant bote nere the bettre.”
Thenne gan Mede to meke here ant mercy a bysowte,
Ant profred Pes a present alle of puyre gold
Ant seyde, “Haue thys of me to amendy thy scath,
For Y wyl wage for Wrong a wyl do so no more.”
Pyteuselyche Pees thenne preyed the kynge
To haue mercy on that [man that] mysdede hym ofte:
“For he hath wageth me wyl, as Wysdom hym taughte;
Y forgyue hym that gult wyth a god wylle.
So that ye assente, Y can sey no more,
For Me[de] hath made my mendus, Y may no more aske.”
“Nay,” quad the kynge tho, “so God yf me blysse,
Wrong wendet nat so away ar Y wyte more.
Lope he so lyghtly awey, lawen a wolde
Ant hef the balder to be to bete myn hewes.
But Resoun haue rewthe on hym, he schal reste hym in my stokus
As longe as Y leue, but the more loue hit make.”
Summe raden Resoun to haue rewthe on the screwe
Ant to consayle the kyng for Conscienses sake
That mede moste be meynpernor, Resoun they besowȝte.
“Rede me nat,” quad Resoun, “no rewȝthe to haue
Tyl lordus ant ladyes louyen in trewthe,
Ant Pernele purfil be potte in here wyche;
Tyl childurne chersyng ben chasted wyth yerdus,
Ant harlotes holynesse yholde for an hyne;
Tyl clerkus ant knytus be corteys of here mowthe
Ant h[et]yn harlotrye, to here yt or to mowth hit;
Tyl prestes here prechyng proue hit on hemsylf
Ant do hit in dede to drawen vs to gode;
Tyl seynt James be sought there Y schal asyngne,
That no man go to Galys but yf [he] go for euere,
Ant alle Rome rennares for robberes of byyende
To bere no syluer ouer se that sygne of kynge scheweth,
Nayther grotus ne gold ygraue wyth kyngus croune,
Vp forfeture of that fe, ho so fynt hym at Douere,
But yf [yt] be machaunt or ys man or messager wyth letres
Or preste or prouysor that the pope auaunseth.
Thenne schal Y knele to the kyng ant cryen hym of grace
For Wrongus wercus ant wrathe in hope that he amende:
In no manere ellus, nat for ‘no’ manes bysechyng.”
Waren Wysdom ant Wytty ys fere
Cowthe nat warpe a word tho to wythsegge Resoun,
But stoden stylle as stuty hors that dolleth.
Conscience ant the kyng acorded to Resoun
Ant seyden that Resoun ryghtfullyche haued schewed;
“Ac ys hit ful hard, by myn heued, herto to brynge hit,
Alle my lege ledus to lede hem thus euene.”
“By hym that rawȝte on the rode,” quad Resoun to the kyng,
But yf thow rewle thus [thy] rewme, Resoun schal nere.”
“Thow schalt rewle my rewme, Resoun, ant ryde by my syde.”
“Nay, redyly,” quad Resoun, “þ[ou] schalt no ryght schewe
Wyle Mede hat the maystrye to mote in thys halle.
Ac Y schal schewe ensamples as Y se othur:
Ac Y sey for mysylf, ant hit so byfelle
That Y were kinge wyth crowne to kepen a rewme,
Scholde nere Wrong in thys world, that Y wyte myȝte,
Be vnspensched in my pouer for peryl of my sowle,
Ne gete my grace thorw gyft, so me God helpe;
Ne for no mede haue mercy, but mekenesse hit maked.
For [n]ullum malum the man mette erit inpunitum
Ant nullum bonum the bolde be irremuneratum.
Lat thy confessor, syre kyng, kenne the thys [on] Englis,
Ant yf ye wyrcheth in dede, Y wedde myn eyes
That lawe schal be a laborer ant lede a feld donge
Ant Loue schal lede the as the lef lycuht.”
Clerkus that were confessores coupled hem togyderes,
For to construe thys clause declined faste.
Ac to Resoun among tho r[e]nkus haued yrehersed this wordus,
There nas man in the mote, more ne lasse,
That ne held Mekenesse a mayster ant Mede a muche wrech,
Ant sworen be seynt Rycher a schent the rewme.
Loue let of here lyȝte, lawghed here to scorne,
Ant seyde so lowde that Sothenese hit herde,
“Ho so wylneth here to wyue for welth of here godes,
But he be cokewold ykald, kutte of my nose!”
Conscyence, Cryst wot, knewe wel the sothe.
The kyng ant Resoun aryse ant reykes in to chaumbre
Ant busked to boure; Y beheld hem no lengur.
Wrong wendet nat so away ar Y wyte more.
Lope he so lyghtly awey, lawen a wolde
Ant hef the balder to be to bete myn hewes.
But Resoun haue rewthe on hym, he schal reste hym in my stokus
As longe as Y leue, but the more loue hit make.”
Summe raden Resoun to haue rewthe on the screwe
Ant to consayle the kyng for Conscienses sake
74
“Rede me nat,” quad Resoun, “no rewȝthe to haue
Tyl lordus ant ladyes louyen in trewthe,
Ant Pernele purfil be potte in here wyche;
Tyl childurne chersyng ben chasted wyth yerdus,
Ant harlotes holynesse yholde for an hyne;
Tyl clerkus ant knytus be corteys of here mowthe
Ant h[et]yn harlotrye, to here yt or to mowth hit;
Tyl prestes here prechyng proue hit on hemsylf
Ant do hit in dede to drawen vs to gode;
Tyl seynt James be sought there Y schal asyngne,
That no man go to Galys but yf [he] go for euere,
Ant alle Rome rennares for robberes of byyende
To bere no syluer ouer se that sygne of kynge scheweth,
Nayther grotus ne gold ygraue wyth kyngus croune,
Vp forfeture of that fe, ho so fynt hym at Douere,
But yf [yt] be machaunt or ys man or messager wyth letres
Or preste or prouysor that the pope auaunseth.
Thenne schal Y knele to the kyng ant cryen hym of grace
For Wrongus wercus ant wrathe in hope that he amende:
In no manere ellus, nat for ‘no’ manes bysechyng.”
Waren Wysdom ant Wytty ys fere
75
But stoden stylle as stuty hors that dolleth.
Conscience ant the kyng acorded to Resoun
Ant seyden that Resoun ryghtfullyche haued schewed;
“Ac ys hit ful hard, by myn heued, herto to brynge hit,
Alle my lege ledus to lede hem thus euene.”
“By hym that rawȝte on the rode,” quad Resoun to the kyng,
But yf thow rewle thus [thy] rewme, Resoun schal nere.”
“Thow schalt rewle my rewme, Resoun, ant ryde by my syde.”
“Nay, redyly,” quad Resoun, “þ[ou] schalt no ryght schewe
Wyle Mede hat the maystrye to mote in thys halle.
Ac Y schal schewe ensamples as Y se othur:
Ac Y sey for mysylf, ant hit so byfelle
That Y were kinge wyth crowne to kepen a rewme,
Scholde nere Wrong in thys world, that Y wyte myȝte,
Be vnspensched in my pouer for peryl of my sowle,
Ne gete my grace thorw gyft, so me God helpe;
Ne for no mede haue mercy, but mekenesse hit maked.
76
Ant nullum bonum the bolde be irremuneratum.
Lat thy confessor, syre kyng, kenne the thys [on] Englis,
Ant yf ye wyrcheth in dede, Y wedde myn eyes
That lawe schal be a laborer ant lede a feld donge
Ant Loue schal lede the as the lef lycuht.”
Clerkus that were confessores coupled hem togyderes,
For to construe thys clause declined faste.
Ac to Resoun among tho r[e]nkus haued yrehersed this wordus,
There nas man in the mote, more ne lasse,
That ne held Mekenesse a mayster ant Mede a muche wrech,
Ant sworen be seynt Rycher a schent the rewme.
Loue let of here lyȝte, lawghed here to scorne,
Ant seyde so lowde that Sothenese hit herde,
“Ho so wylneth here to wyue for welth of here godes,
But he be cokewold ykald, kutte of my nose!”
Conscyence, Cryst wot, knewe wel the sothe.
The kyng ant Resoun aryse ant reykes in to chaumbre
Ant busked to boure; Y beheld hem no lengur.
77
Passus Quintus
Wareyn Wysdom ant Wytty ys fere
Cowthe nat warpen a word to wythsegge Resoun,
But stared for studiyng as a ston stylle.
The kyng acorded by Cryst to Resoun sawes
Ant seyde that Resoun ryghtfullyche haued schewed,
“Ac hit ys ful hard, by myn heued, herto to bryngen hit
Ant my lege ledus to lede thus euene.”
“By hym that rawȝte on the rode,” quad Resoun to the kyng,
“But Y rewle thus thy rewme, rend of my heres,
Yf ye bydde buxumesse be of myn assente.”
“Ant Y assente,” quad the kyng, “by seynt Mary my lady,
Be my consayl ycome of clerkus ant herles.
Ac redely, Resoun, thow schalt nat ryde hennes:
For as long as Y lyue, leue Y the nelle.”
“I am aredy,” quad Resoun, “to reste wyth yow euere,
So Conscyence be of oure consayl, kepe Y no bettre.”
“Ant Y graunte,” quad the kyng, “Godus forbode he fayle,
As longe as Y lyue, libbe togyderes.”
The kyng ant ys knytes to the kyrke wente
Tho here matynes ant masse ant to the mete aftur.
Thenne waked Y of my wynkyng ant wo was wyth alle
That Y ne haued slepe saddur ant yseyn more.
Ar Y haued fare a forlong, feyntyse me hent
That Y ne myȝte forthur a fot for slep that me folwed.
Y sat softely adow, sayd Y “by my leue,”
Ant so Y babled on my bedus, they browȝte me a slepe,
Ant say muche more then fore telle.
For Y saw the feld ful of folk that Y afore tolde,
Ant Conscience wyth a cros com for to preche
Ant preyde the peple haue pyte of hemsylue,
Ant priued the pestilence was for puyr synne
Ant sothewoste wynd a saturday at eue
Was pertlyche for pruyde ant for no poynt elles.
For word ys but wynd ant so my wyt telleth,
Ac wel Y wot that holy wryt wot muche bettre
Ant wytnesseth that Godus word ys worthyokest of alle.
Hit maketh the messe ant the masse that men vnderfongeth
For Godus body ant ys blod, buyrnes to saue;
Helle yatus hit tobarst ant hadde out Adam;
Wyth wynd of ys word al this world made.
Ant in ensaumple, segges, that ye schal do the bettre,
Bechus ant brod okes weren blowe to the erthe,
Al to warne vs weyes wat thys werd menes.
Peryes ant plomtres were poste to the erthe,
Assches ant helmes ant okes ful heye,
Turne vpward here tayl yn toknyg of drede
That dedly synne ar domus day fordo schal hem alle.
Of thys matere Y myȝte mamele ful longe,
Ac Y schal seye as Y say, so me God helpe,
How Conscyence wyth ys cros cumseth to preche.
A bad Wastor to wyrche wat a beste couthe,
To wynnen here wastyng wyth summe manere craft,
Ant preyd Pernele here porfyl to leue,
To kepe hit in here cofre Conscyence bysowte.
Thomme Stoue a tauȝte to take to staues
Ant fette hom Felice from wyuen pyne;
Warned Wat ys wyf was to blame,
That here heued was at alfmark ant ys hode at a grote.
A bad Bette to kytte a bow or tweye
Ant bete Beden theremyde but yf he wold wyrche;
Charged chapmen to chasten here chyldren,
Lat no wynnyng forwanyen hem wyle they ben yonge;
Preyed prelatus ant prestus yfere
That they prechyd the peple, preue hit in hemsylf,
Ant libben as they lere vs, we wyl leue hem th[e] bettre.
Ant senes a radde religioun here rewle to holde,
“Last the kyng ant his consayl youre comewnes apeyre
Ant be styward of youre stedes tyl ye be stywed bettre.
Ant ye that sekut seyn James ant seyntes of Rome,
Jerusalem ant Jeryco ant Jacobes welle,
Sekut seynt Trewthe for he may saue yow alle,
Qui cum patre et fili[o] that fayre hem byfalle
That doth as Y dome wyle here dayes lasten;
The sone wyth the seynt spiryt saue hem fro meschaunce
That seweth my sarmon ant thus secuth Trewthe.”
Cowthe nat warpen a word to wythsegge Resoun,
But stared for studiyng as a ston stylle.
The kyng acorded by Cryst to Resoun sawes
Ant seyde that Resoun ryghtfullyche haued schewed,
“Ac hit ys ful hard, by myn heued, herto to bryngen hit
Ant my lege ledus to lede thus euene.”
“By hym that rawȝte on the rode,” quad Resoun to the kyng,
“But Y rewle thus thy rewme, rend of my heres,
Yf ye bydde buxumesse be of myn assente.”
“Ant Y assente,” quad the kyng, “by seynt Mary my lady,
Be my consayl ycome of clerkus ant herles.
Ac redely, Resoun, thow schalt nat ryde hennes:
For as long as Y lyue, leue Y the nelle.”
78
So Conscyence be of oure consayl, kepe Y no bettre.”
“Ant Y graunte,” quad the kyng, “Godus forbode he fayle,
As longe as Y lyue, libbe togyderes.”
The kyng ant ys knytes to the kyrke wente
Tho here matynes ant masse ant to the mete aftur.
Thenne waked Y of my wynkyng ant wo was wyth alle
That Y ne haued slepe saddur ant yseyn more.
Ar Y haued fare a forlong, feyntyse me hent
That Y ne myȝte forthur a fot for slep that me folwed.
Y sat softely adow, sayd Y “by my leue,”
Ant so Y babled on my bedus, they browȝte me a slepe,
Ant say muche more then fore telle.
For Y saw the feld ful of folk that Y afore tolde,
Ant Conscience wyth a cros com for to preche
Ant preyde the peple haue pyte of hemsylue,
Ant priued the pestilence was for puyr synne
Ant sothewoste wynd a saturday at eue
Was pertlyche for pruyde ant for no poynt elles.
For word ys but wynd ant so my wyt telleth,
Ac wel Y wot that holy wryt wot muche bettre
79
Hit maketh the messe ant the masse that men vnderfongeth
For Godus body ant ys blod, buyrnes to saue;
Helle yatus hit tobarst ant hadde out Adam;
Wyth wynd of ys word al this world made.
Ant in ensaumple, segges, that ye schal do the bettre,
Bechus ant brod okes weren blowe to the erthe,
Al to warne vs weyes wat thys werd menes.
Peryes ant plomtres were poste to the erthe,
Assches ant helmes ant okes ful heye,
Turne vpward here tayl yn toknyg of drede
That dedly synne ar domus day fordo schal hem alle.
Of thys matere Y myȝte mamele ful longe,
Ac Y schal seye as Y say, so me God helpe,
How Conscyence wyth ys cros cumseth to preche.
A bad Wastor to wyrche wat a beste couthe,
To wynnen here wastyng wyth summe manere craft,
Ant preyd Pernele here porfyl to leue,
To kepe hit in here cofre Conscyence bysowte.
Thomme Stoue a tauȝte to take to staues
Ant fette hom Felice from wyuen pyne;
Warned Wat ys wyf was to blame,
That here heued was at alfmark ant ys hode at a grote.
80
Ant bete Beden theremyde but yf he wold wyrche;
Charged chapmen to chasten here chyldren,
Lat no wynnyng forwanyen hem wyle they ben yonge;
Preyed prelatus ant prestus yfere
That they prechyd the peple, preue hit in hemsylf,
Ant libben as they lere vs, we wyl leue hem th[e] bettre.
Ant senes a radde religioun here rewle to holde,
“Last the kyng ant his consayl youre comewnes apeyre
Ant be styward of youre stedes tyl ye be stywed bettre.
Ant ye that sekut seyn James ant seyntes of Rome,
Jerusalem ant Jeryco ant Jacobes welle,
Sekut seynt Trewthe for he may saue yow alle,
Qui cum patre et fili[o] that fayre hem byfalle
That doth as Y dome wyle here dayes lasten;
The sone wyth the seynt spiryt saue hem fro meschaunce
That seweth my sarmon ant thus secuth Trewthe.”
Thanne ran Repentaunce, rehersed ys teme,
Ant gerte Wylle to wepe watur wyth his eyes.
Pernele prowd-herte platte here to the erthe
Ant lay longe ar a locud ant “lord, mercy” cryed,
Ant byhyght to hym that vs alle made
A scholde vnsowen here serk ant sette there an haire,
For to afayten here flesch that fers was to synne:
“Schal nere heye herte me hente but holde [me] lowe
Ant suffre to be mys-seyd, ant so dide Y nere.
But now wyl Y meke me ant mercy byseche
Of alle hem that Y haue had enuye in myn herte.”
Lecherye seyde “alas” ant oure ledy cryed
To make mercy for ys mysdede bytwene God ant ys sowle,
Wyth a scholde the saturday seuen yer thereaftur
Drynke but myt the doke ant dyne bot ones.
Enuye ant yre ayther wep faste,
Preyude furst to Pouel ant tho Petur alse,
To geten grace for here gult of God that hem boughte,
That nere wyked wylle ne wrath hem ouerecome,
But sende hem grace to suffre ant synne to lete
Ant for to louye ant be byloued as Charite wolde.
Thenne com Couetyse, knoked ys brest;
A haued a Northfolk nose, Y noem ful god hede,
Ant swor by “so the yk” that synne scholde he lete
Ant nere wolle to wey ne worstedes make
Ne morgage manere wyth monye that he haued,
But “wenden to Walsingham ant my wyf alse
Ant bydde the rode of Bromholm brynge vs out of dette.”
Thenne gan Gloten to grete ant gret sorwe made
Al for ys luyther lyf that a lyued hadde;
Ant a voued faste for eny hungur or furste
“Schal nere fysch vpon the fryday defyen in my wombe
Ar Abstinence myn aunte haue yf me leue—
Ant yut hath he hated me al my lyf tyme.”
Slewthe for sorw ful down y swowe
Tyl Vigilate ant veyles fette watur at ys eyus;
Flatted hit on ys face ant faste on hym cryed
Ant seyde “War the fro wanhope wolde the to-traye:
“Ych am sory of my synnes” sey to thyselue,
Ant bete thysylf on thy brest, bydde hym of grace
For his no gult here so gret that his godnesse ne his more.”
Thenne sat Slewthe vp, seyned hym faste
Ant mad[e] a vow tofore God for ys foule synne;
“Schall no sonenday be thys seuen yer, but syknesse yt make,
That Y ne schal do me ar day to the dere chirche
To here masse ant matynes as Y a monek were.
Schal non ale aftur mete halde me thennes
Tyl Y haue hensong yherd, Y byhote, wyle Y lybbe,
Quod ye nan yelde ayeyn yf Y so myche haue,
Al that Y wykedely wan senes Y wyt haued.
Thowȝ me lyflode lake, leten Y nelle
Than vch man schal haue hys ar Y hennes wende,
Ant wyth the residue ant the remenaunt by the rode of Chestre
Seken seynt Trewth therewyth or Y se Rome
Or James or Jerusalem by Jesus of euene.”
Robert the robbere on reddite locut,
Ac for he haued nat werewyth a wep swythe sore
Ac yut the synful schrewe seyde to hymsylfe:
“Cryst that vpon Caluary vpon the cros deydest,
Tho Dismas my brother bysowȝthe [the] of grace,
Ant hauedest mercy for his mysdedes for memento ones,
So rewe on me, Robert, that reddere ne habbe
Ne nere wene to wynne wyth craft that Y knowe.
Thy wille worth vpon me, as Y wel disserued
To haue helle for euere, nere hope a that Y haue.
For youre muchyl mercy mytygacion Y byseche,
For fodere non valeo, so feble ar my bones:
Caucyon, ant Y couthe, caute wolde Y make,
That Y ne begged ne borwed ne in despeyr deyde.”
Ac wat byful of thys felown Y can nat fayre schewe;
Wel Y wot a wep faste water wyth ys eyes
Ant knowleched ys coupe yut eftsones to Cryst,
That penitencia ys pyk a wolde polsche newe
Ant lepe wyth hym oure lond al ys lyf days,
For that he lay by Latro, Luciferes aunte.
A thowsend of men to throngen togydyres,
Wepyng ant waylyng for here mysdedes,
Cryend vpward to Cryst an to ys clene modur
Grace to go to Trewthe—God leue that a mote!
Ant gerte Wylle to wepe watur wyth his eyes.
Pernele prowd-herte platte here to the erthe
Ant lay longe ar a locud ant “lord, mercy” cryed,
Ant byhyght to hym that vs alle made
A scholde vnsowen here serk ant sette there an haire,
For to afayten here flesch that fers was to synne:
“Schal nere heye herte me hente but holde [me] lowe
81
But now wyl Y meke me ant mercy byseche
Of alle hem that Y haue had enuye in myn herte.”
Lecherye seyde “alas” ant oure ledy cryed
To make mercy for ys mysdede bytwene God ant ys sowle,
Wyth a scholde the saturday seuen yer thereaftur
Drynke but myt the doke ant dyne bot ones.
Enuye ant yre ayther wep faste,
Preyude furst to Pouel ant tho Petur alse,
To geten grace for here gult of God that hem boughte,
That nere wyked wylle ne wrath hem ouerecome,
But sende hem grace to suffre ant synne to lete
Ant for to louye ant be byloued as Charite wolde.
Thenne com Couetyse, knoked ys brest;
A haued a Northfolk nose, Y noem ful god hede,
Ant swor by “so the yk” that synne scholde he lete
Ant nere wolle to wey ne worstedes make
Ne morgage manere wyth monye that he haued,
But “wenden to Walsingham ant my wyf alse
82
Thenne gan Gloten to grete ant gret sorwe made
Al for ys luyther lyf that a lyued hadde;
Ant a voued faste for eny hungur or furste
“Schal nere fysch vpon the fryday defyen in my wombe
Ar Abstinence myn aunte haue yf me leue—
Ant yut hath he hated me al my lyf tyme.”
Slewthe for sorw ful down y swowe
Tyl Vigilate ant veyles fette watur at ys eyus;
Flatted hit on ys face ant faste on hym cryed
Ant seyde “War the fro wanhope wolde the to-traye:
“Ych am sory of my synnes” sey to thyselue,
Ant bete thysylf on thy brest, bydde hym of grace
For his no gult here so gret that his godnesse ne his more.”
Thenne sat Slewthe vp, seyned hym faste
Ant mad[e] a vow tofore God for ys foule synne;
“Schall no sonenday be thys seuen yer, but syknesse yt make,
That Y ne schal do me ar day to the dere chirche
To here masse ant matynes as Y a monek were.
Schal non ale aftur mete halde me thennes
83
Quod ye nan yelde ayeyn yf Y so myche haue,
Al that Y wykedely wan senes Y wyt haued.
Thowȝ me lyflode lake, leten Y nelle
Than vch man schal haue hys ar Y hennes wende,
Ant wyth the residue ant the remenaunt by the rode of Chestre
Seken seynt Trewth therewyth or Y se Rome
Or James or Jerusalem by Jesus of euene.”
Robert the robbere on reddite locut,
Ac for he haued nat werewyth a wep swythe sore
Ac yut the synful schrewe seyde to hymsylfe:
“Cryst that vpon Caluary vpon the cros deydest,
Tho Dismas my brother bysowȝthe [the] of grace,
Ant hauedest mercy for his mysdedes for memento ones,
So rewe on me, Robert, that reddere ne habbe
Ne nere wene to wynne wyth craft that Y knowe.
84
To haue helle for euere, nere hope a that Y haue.
For youre muchyl mercy mytygacion Y byseche,
For fodere non valeo, so feble ar my bones:
Caucyon, ant Y couthe, caute wolde Y make,
That Y ne begged ne borwed ne in despeyr deyde.”
Ac wat byful of thys felown Y can nat fayre schewe;
Wel Y wot a wep faste water wyth ys eyes
Ant knowleched ys coupe yut eftsones to Cryst,
That penitencia ys pyk a wolde polsche newe
Ant lepe wyth hym oure lond al ys lyf days,
For that he lay by Latro, Luciferes aunte.
A thowsend of men to throngen togydyres,
Wepyng ant waylyng for here mysdedes,
Cryend vpward to Cryst an to ys clene modur
Grace to go to Trewthe—God leue that a mote!
Ac there was weye [none] so wys that the way thydur couthe,
But blostred forth as bestes ouer baches ant hilles,
Tyl late ant longe that they a lede mette,
Yparayled as a paynym in palmeres wyse.
A bar a bordoun ybounde wyth a brode lyste,
In a wethewyse ywowden aboute,
A bagge ant a bolle he bar by ys syde,
An hendret of haumpelles on ys hatte setun,
Sygnes of Syse ant schelles of Galis
Ant many a crowche on ys clok ant keyes of Rome,
Ant the vernycle afore, for men scholde yknowe
Ant se be ys signes wam a sowght adde.
But blostred forth as bestes ouer baches ant hilles,
Tyl late ant longe that they a lede mette,
Yparayled as a paynym in palmeres wyse.
85
In a wethewyse ywowden aboute,
A bagge ant a bolle he bar by ys syde,
An hendret of haumpelles on ys hatte setun,
Sygnes of Syse ant schelles of Galis
Ant many a crowche on ys clok ant keyes of Rome,
Ant the vernycle afore, for men scholde yknowe
Ant se be ys signes wam a sowght adde.
86
Passus Sextus
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.”
“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,
87
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.”
“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,
88
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,
89
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;
90
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.”
91
Passus Septimus
“Thys were a wel wyked wey, but wo haued a gyde
That myght folew vs vch foet forto we were there.”
Quad Perkyn the plowman, “Be seynt Poule of Rome,
Y haue an halue aker to ere by the heye way.
Haued Y hered that haluacur ant ysowed hit aftur,
Ant schal wende wyth yow tyl the heye weye.”
“This were a long lettyng,” quad a lady in a sclayre;
“Wat scholde we wymmen wirche the wyle?”
“Somme schal sowen the sak for schedyng of the wete,
Ant wyues that han wollen, wirchen hit faste
Ant spynneth hit spedlych, sparet nat youre fingres
But y[t] be eny halyday or eny holy eue.
Loketh forth youre lynnen ant laboreth thereon faste.
The nedy ant the naked, nymeth hede how he ligeth:
Casteth hem clothes for cold, for so comawndeth Trewthe.
For Y schal lene hem liflode, but yf the lond fayle,
As longe as Y liue, for oure lordus loue of heuene.
Ant ye louelyche ladius wyth youre longe fingres,
That ye haue selk ant sendel to sewen wan tyme ys,
Chesibles for chapeleynes chirches to honoure.
Ant al manere men that by the mete libbeth,
Helpeth hym wirche wytliche that wynneth youre fode.”
That myght folew vs vch foet forto we were there.”
Quad Perkyn the plowman, “Be seynt Poule of Rome,
Y haue an halue aker to ere by the heye way.
Haued Y hered that haluacur ant ysowed hit aftur,
Ant schal wende wyth yow tyl the heye weye.”
“This were a long lettyng,” quad a lady in a sclayre;
“Wat scholde we wymmen wirche the wyle?”
“Somme schal sowen the sak for schedyng of the wete,
Ant wyues that han wollen, wirchen hit faste
Ant spynneth hit spedlych, sparet nat youre fingres
But y[t] be eny halyday or eny holy eue.
Loketh forth youre lynnen ant laboreth thereon faste.
The nedy ant the naked, nymeth hede how he ligeth:
Casteth hem clothes for cold, for so comawndeth Trewthe.
For Y schal lene hem liflode, but yf the lond fayle,
As longe as Y liue, for oure lordus loue of heuene.
Ant ye louelyche ladius wyth youre longe fingres,
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Chesibles for chapeleynes chirches to honoure.
Ant al manere men that by the mete libbeth,
Helpeth hym wirche wytliche that wynneth youre fode.”
“By Crist,” quad a knyght tho, “thow kennest vs the best,
Ac on the teme trewly taught was Y nere.
Ac kenne me,” quad the knyght, “ant be Cryst Y wyl lere.”
“By seynt Petur,” quad Perkyn, “an for thow profrest the so lowe,
Y schal swynken ant swete ant sowe for vs bothe,
Ant eke laboure for youre loue al my lif tyme,
In couenaunt that ye kepe holy kyrke ant mysylf
Fro wastors ant wyked men that wolden me destruye;
Meyntene me yf þow myght fro al manere schrewes
Ant go hunte hardely the hares ant the foxus,
The bukkes ant bores that breken myn egges,
Ant feteth hom faukones fowles to kulle.
For these cometh [to my] croft ant croppeth my wete.”
Cortesliche the knyghte thenne comseth thes wordes:
“By my pouer, Peres, Y plyȝte the my trewthe
To fulfelle this forward for euere more hereaftur.”
“Ye, ant yut a poynt,” quad Perkyn, “Y prey the, more:
Loke thow tene no tenaunt but yf Trewthe wyl assente,
Ant thouȝ pore men profre yow presauntus ant yftus,
Nyme nat, an awntre thow mow hit nat desserue.
Thenne schalt thow yelden hit ayeyen at one yeres ende,
In a ful perilouse place, that Purgatorie hette.
Amys bed nat thy bondmen, the bet schat thow spede.
Loke thow be trewe of thy tunge ant tales that thow hate,
But yf yt be of wysdom or wyt, thy werkmen to chaste.
Yf none harlotes thyn hode ne thyn holde clothys,
But hit be mynstrales or messageres that gode murthes cunne.”
“I assente, by seynt Jame,” quad the knyght thenne,
“For to wyrche by thy word wyle my lyf duyreth.”
Perkyn aparayled hym in pylgrimes wyse;
A caste on his clothes yclouted for the colde,
Ys cokeres ant ys coffus for clumse of ys fyngres,
“Ant myn hatte on myn heued, Y haue no bettre scrippe:
A boschel of bred-corn bryng me thereinne,
For Y wil sowe hit mysilf ant senes wil Y wend,
Ant ho so helpeth me to holde or eggen hit myt the harwe
Or wit awey the fowles wyle the sed grouth
Schal haue leue by oure lord to lese here in heruest
And beren hit forth to his bern as baldely as mysilf.”
Dame Wyrche-wen-tyme-ys Pers wyf highte,
Ant ys dowghtur hyght Do-ryt-so-or-thy-dame-schal-the-bete;
Ys sone hyght “Sewe-myn-ourf-fors,-slewth-nat-the-leste,
Kepe vch mannes corn as thow kepest myn oune,
Bothe here gras ant here god, or by God thow schalt abegge!
Lat nat thyne handus be yhoked harneys to pyke,
Ne ly nat to do me lawghe, for Y louede hit nere.
For now Y am hold ant hor and haue of myn owne,
To penaunce as a pylgrime Y wyl passe wyth this other.
Therefor Y wyl, or Y wend, do wryte my byqueste:
In dei nomine, amen: Y make hit mysylf.
He schal haue my sowle tha[t] beste hath deserued,
Ant defenden hit fro the fend, for so Y byleue,
Tyl he come ant acounte, as my crede telleth,
At domus day to do me dwelle wyth my sowle in his blisse,
For that Y labored in ys lawe al my lyf tyme.
The kyrke schal haue my caroyne ant kepe my bones.
For of my catel ant my corn a craued my tyth.
Y payed hit hym prestly for perel of my sowle,
Ant he his holdyng, Y hope, to haue me in his masse
Ant menege in his memorie among gode sowles.
My wyf schal haue that Y wan wyth trewthe ant no more,
Ant dele among my dowtres ant my dere chyldren.
For thow Y deye today, my dette ys yquited:
I bar hom that Y borwed ar Y to bedde yede.
Ant wyth the residewe ant the remanaunt that ryghtfullyche Y wonne
Y wil wirschepe therewyth Trewthe as long as Y leue,
Ant be ys pilegrym at the plow for pore mens sake.
My plowpote schal be my pik to pich ato the rotus
That acumbren my colter as cammokes ant wedus.”
Ac on the teme trewly taught was Y nere.
Ac kenne me,” quad the knyght, “ant be Cryst Y wyl lere.”
“By seynt Petur,” quad Perkyn, “an for thow profrest the so lowe,
Y schal swynken ant swete ant sowe for vs bothe,
Ant eke laboure for youre loue al my lif tyme,
In couenaunt that ye kepe holy kyrke ant mysylf
Fro wastors ant wyked men that wolden me destruye;
Meyntene me yf þow myght fro al manere schrewes
Ant go hunte hardely the hares ant the foxus,
The bukkes ant bores that breken myn egges,
Ant feteth hom faukones fowles to kulle.
For these cometh [to my] croft ant croppeth my wete.”
Cortesliche the knyghte thenne comseth thes wordes:
“By my pouer, Peres, Y plyȝte the my trewthe
To fulfelle this forward for euere more hereaftur.”
“Ye, ant yut a poynt,” quad Perkyn, “Y prey the, more:
Loke thow tene no tenaunt but yf Trewthe wyl assente,
Ant thouȝ pore men profre yow presauntus ant yftus,
Nyme nat, an awntre thow mow hit nat desserue.
Thenne schalt thow yelden hit ayeyen at one yeres ende,
93
Amys bed nat thy bondmen, the bet schat thow spede.
Loke thow be trewe of thy tunge ant tales that thow hate,
But yf yt be of wysdom or wyt, thy werkmen to chaste.
Yf none harlotes thyn hode ne thyn holde clothys,
But hit be mynstrales or messageres that gode murthes cunne.”
“I assente, by seynt Jame,” quad the knyght thenne,
“For to wyrche by thy word wyle my lyf duyreth.”
Perkyn aparayled hym in pylgrimes wyse;
A caste on his clothes yclouted for the colde,
Ys cokeres ant ys coffus for clumse of ys fyngres,
“Ant myn hatte on myn heued, Y haue no bettre scrippe:
A boschel of bred-corn bryng me thereinne,
For Y wil sowe hit mysilf ant senes wil Y wend,
Ant ho so helpeth me to holde or eggen hit myt the harwe
Or wit awey the fowles wyle the sed grouth
Schal haue leue by oure lord to lese here in heruest
And beren hit forth to his bern as baldely as mysilf.”
94
Ant ys dowghtur hyght Do-ryt-so-or-thy-dame-schal-the-bete;
Ys sone hyght “Sewe-myn-ourf-fors,-slewth-nat-the-leste,
Kepe vch mannes corn as thow kepest myn oune,
Bothe here gras ant here god, or by God thow schalt abegge!
Lat nat thyne handus be yhoked harneys to pyke,
Ne ly nat to do me lawghe, for Y louede hit nere.
For now Y am hold ant hor and haue of myn owne,
To penaunce as a pylgrime Y wyl passe wyth this other.
Therefor Y wyl, or Y wend, do wryte my byqueste:
In dei nomine, amen: Y make hit mysylf.
He schal haue my sowle tha[t] beste hath deserued,
Ant defenden hit fro the fend, for so Y byleue,
Tyl he come ant acounte, as my crede telleth,
At domus day to do me dwelle wyth my sowle in his blisse,
For that Y labored in ys lawe al my lyf tyme.
The kyrke schal haue my caroyne ant kepe my bones.
For of my catel ant my corn a craued my tyth.
95
Ant he his holdyng, Y hope, to haue me in his masse
Ant menege in his memorie among gode sowles.
My wyf schal haue that Y wan wyth trewthe ant no more,
Ant dele among my dowtres ant my dere chyldren.
For thow Y deye today, my dette ys yquited:
I bar hom that Y borwed ar Y to bedde yede.
Ant wyth the residewe ant the remanaunt that ryghtfullyche Y wonne
Y wil wirschepe therewyth Trewthe as long as Y leue,
Ant be ys pilegrym at the plow for pore mens sake.
My plowpote schal be my pik to pich ato the rotus
That acumbren my colter as cammokes ant wedus.”
Now ys Perkyn ant the pylegrimes to the plow faren,
To heryen this haluacur holpen hym monye;
Dicares ant deluares diged vp the balcus.
Therewyth was Perkyn apayd ant preysed hem faste.
Othur workmen there were that wrought ful yerne,
Vche man in his manere made hymsilf to done,
For to plese Perkyn peynd ful monye.
At heye pryme Peres let the plowe stande
Ant ouresey hem hymsilf: ho so best wrought
Scholde ben huyred thereaftur wen heruest tyme come.
Thenne setten summe ant songen at the nale,
Ant holpen erye the haluacur wyth “hey trolylolly.”
“By the prynse of paradis,” quad Peres in his wrath,
“But ye aryse the rather ant rapen yow to wirch,
Schal no grayn that here grouth gladyen yow at nede,
Ne Y nel lene yow no lyflode, noythur loef ne cake,
Ne no skines corn, by Cryst, that in my croft groueth.
Ant thow ye deye for deul, the deuel haue that reche!”
Thenne were faytores aferd, fayned hem blynde;
Summe leyde here leggus alyry as such loseles conneth,
Ant pleyneden to Peres wyth suche pitouse wordes:
“We han no limus to labore wyth, lord ygraced be the,
Ac we preyen for yow, Peres, ant for youre plow alse,
That God for ys grace youre grayn multeplye,
Ant yelde yow oure almesse that ye yeuen vs here;
For we mowe neythur swinke ne swete, such sikenesse vs eyleth.”
“Ȝyf hit be soth that ye seyen, Y schal sone aspye.
Ye ben wastores, Y wot wyl, Trewthe wot the sothe,
Ant Y am his holde hyne ant houghte hym to warne
Wiche wastores in world ys werkmen distruyeth.
Ye eten that they scholde ete that eryeth for vs alle.
Ac Trewthe schal thechen yow ys teme for to dryue,
Bothe to sette ant to sowe ant to sauen ys tylthe,
Cach koes fro ys corn, kepen ys bestus,
Or ye schal eten barly bred ant of the brok drynke,
But yf he blynd or broke-schanked or bedreden ligge—
They schal ete as gode as Y, so me God helpe,
Tyl God of ys grace gere hem to ryse.
Hancres ant hermytus that holdeth hem in here selles
Schal haue of myn almesse al the wyle Y libbe,
Ynow vch day at noen ant no more aftur,
Laste his flesch ant the feend fouled ys sowle.
Ones at noen ys ynow that no werk ne haunteth:
A byt wel the bettre that bummeth nat ofte.”
To heryen this haluacur holpen hym monye;
Dicares ant deluares diged vp the balcus.
Therewyth was Perkyn apayd ant preysed hem faste.
Othur workmen there were that wrought ful yerne,
Vche man in his manere made hymsilf to done,
For to plese Perkyn peynd ful monye.
96
Ant ouresey hem hymsilf: ho so best wrought
Scholde ben huyred thereaftur wen heruest tyme come.
Thenne setten summe ant songen at the nale,
Ant holpen erye the haluacur wyth “hey trolylolly.”
“By the prynse of paradis,” quad Peres in his wrath,
“But ye aryse the rather ant rapen yow to wirch,
Schal no grayn that here grouth gladyen yow at nede,
Ne Y nel lene yow no lyflode, noythur loef ne cake,
Ne no skines corn, by Cryst, that in my croft groueth.
Ant thow ye deye for deul, the deuel haue that reche!”
Thenne were faytores aferd, fayned hem blynde;
Summe leyde here leggus alyry as such loseles conneth,
Ant pleyneden to Peres wyth suche pitouse wordes:
“We han no limus to labore wyth, lord ygraced be the,
Ac we preyen for yow, Peres, ant for youre plow alse,
That God for ys grace youre grayn multeplye,
Ant yelde yow oure almesse that ye yeuen vs here;
For we mowe neythur swinke ne swete, such sikenesse vs eyleth.”
“Ȝyf hit be soth that ye seyen, Y schal sone aspye.
Ye ben wastores, Y wot wyl, Trewthe wot the sothe,
Ant Y am his holde hyne ant houghte hym to warne
Wiche wastores in world ys werkmen distruyeth.
Ye eten that they scholde ete that eryeth for vs alle.
Ac Trewthe schal thechen yow ys teme for to dryue,
Bothe to sette ant to sowe ant to sauen ys tylthe,
Cach koes fro ys corn, kepen ys bestus,
Or ye schal eten barly bred ant of the brok drynke,
97
They schal ete as gode as Y, so me God helpe,
Tyl God of ys grace gere hem to ryse.
Hancres ant hermytus that holdeth hem in here selles
Schal haue of myn almesse al the wyle Y libbe,
Ynow vch day at noen ant no more aftur,
Laste his flesch ant the feend fouled ys sowle.
Ones at noen ys ynow that no werk ne haunteth:
A byt wel the bettre that bummeth nat ofte.”
Thenne gan Wastor to wrathen hym ant wolde haue yfoughte,
Ant to Perus the plowman profred ys gloue.
A Bretoner, a bragger, a bosted hym alse,
Ant bad hym go pysse myd ys plowe: “Pyuysche schrewe,
Wolle þow, nelle þow, we wille han oure wille,
Ant bothe thy flour ant thy flesch fech wen vs licuth,
Ant maken vs merye theremyt mawgre thy checus.”
Thenne Peres the plowman pleyned hym to the knyghte
To kepen hym, as couenaunt was, fro cursed schrewes,
Fro wastores that wayten wynnares to schende.
Corteslyche the knyghte thenne, as ys kynde wolde,
Warned Wastor ant wyssed hym bettre,
“Or thow schalt abigge by the lawe, by the ordre tha[t] Y welde.”
“I was nat woned to wirche, now wil Y nat bygynne.”
Ant let lighte of the lawe ant lasse of the knyght,
Ant counted Peres at a pese ant ys plow bothe
Ant manesed hym ant ys men to mysdon hym eftsones.
Ant to Perus the plowman profred ys gloue.
A Bretoner, a bragger, a bosted hym alse,
Ant bad hym go pysse myd ys plowe: “Pyuysche schrewe,
Wolle þow, nelle þow, we wille han oure wille,
Ant bothe thy flour ant thy flesch fech wen vs licuth,
Ant maken vs merye theremyt mawgre thy checus.”
Thenne Peres the plowman pleyned hym to the knyghte
To kepen hym, as couenaunt was, fro cursed schrewes,
Fro wastores that wayten wynnares to schende.
Corteslyche the knyghte thenne, as ys kynde wolde,
Warned Wastor ant wyssed hym bettre,
“Or thow schalt abigge by the lawe, by the ordre tha[t] Y welde.”
“I was nat woned to wirche, now wil Y nat bygynne.”
98
Ant counted Peres at a pese ant ys plow bothe
Ant manesed hym ant ys men to mysdon hym eftsones.
“Now by the perel of my sowle, Y schal apeyre yow alle!”
Ant houped aftur Hungur that herd hym at the furste.
“Awrek me of thys wastores,” quad Perus, “that this world schenden.”
Hungur in haste thenne hente Wastor by the mawe
Ant wrong hym so by the wombe that al watred his eyeus,
Ant buffated the Bretoner aboute the checus
That a loked lik a lanterne al ys lyf aftur.
He bete hem so bothe that he barst nere here guttus,
Ne hadde Perus wyth a pese lof preyed hym byleue.
And wyth a beneen botte a yede hem bytwene,
Ant hitte Hungur theremyde that alle ys gottes swolle
Ant bledde into the bodyward a bolle ful of growel.
Ne hadde sire Furst the fycyan yfet watur the sannure
To abate the barly bred ant benes that they eten,
They haued be ded be thys day ant doluen al warme.
Faytores for fere tho flowen into bernus
Ant flapten on wyth fleyles fro morwen tyl euen
Betynge barly benus ant wete,
That Hungur was nat hardy on hem for to loke.
For a potteful of pesus that Perus had ymaked
An hep of hermytus henten hem spadus,
Ant doluen dryt ant dunge to dutten out Hungur.
Blynde ant bedreden were botned a thowsond,
That hadde be blynde ant broke-legged be the heye weye.
Hungur hem heled myt an ote cake,
Ant lame men lymes were lythed that tyme
Ant becomen knaues to kepe menne bestus,
Ant preyd por charite wyth Peres for to dwelle,
Al for couetyse of ys corn to cach awey Hungur.
Ant Perus was prowd thereof ant pulte hem in offisus,
Ant yaf hem mete ant mone as they myghte disserue.
Thenne haued Perus pite: a preyd Hungur to wende
Hom into ys oune erd ant halde there euere.
“Ac yut Y prey the,” quad Perus, “ar thow passe forthur,
Of beggares ant byddares wat best be to done?
For Y wot wel, be þow went, they wyl wyrche ful ylle:
Meschyf hit makuth they ben so meke nowthe
Ant for defaute of fode thus faste they wirchen.
Ant hit ben my blody brethurne, for God bought us alle:
Trewthe taughte me onus to louey hem vch one,
To helpe hem of alle thing as they han nede.
Now wold Y wytte, yf thow wistus, wat were the beste,
How Y myghte amaystren hem ant maken hem to wyrche,
Tho that ben staleword ant stronge ant struyores beth holden.
For bedreden ant blynde ant broke-legged wreches
That ben syke ant sory, Y schal yse mysilf
That they haue bred ant brede beddyng ant clotus,
Ant kepe hem fro colde, so me Cryst helpe,
Ant eke fro hungur ant harme as myn owne chyldren.”
“Herke now,” quad Hungur, “ant holde hit for a wysdom.
Bolde beggares ant bygge that mow here bred byswynke,
Wyth howndus bred ant horse bred holde vp here hertus;
Abaue hem wyth benus for bollyng of here wombe,
Ant yf tho gromus gruch, bide hem go ant swynke,
Ant he schal soupe swetture wen he yt hath disserued.
But yf yt be eny freke fortune haue apeyred
Wyth fuyr or wyth fals men, fonde such to knowe.
Conforte hym wyth thy catel for Crystys loue of heuene;
Loue hem ant lene hem ant so lawe of kynde wolde.”
“I wolde nat greue God,” quad Perus, “for al the god that Y welde.
Myght Y synneles do as thow seyst?” seyde Perus thenne.
“Ye, Y byhote God,” quad Hungur, “or elles the bible lyes.
Go to Genesis the geaunt, engendrour of vs alle:
In sudore ant swynk þow schalt thy mete telye
Ant laborey for thy lyflode, ant so oure lord hyghte.
Ant Sapience seth the same, Y sey hit in the byble:
Piger propter frigus no fode nolde tylye;
A schal go begged ant byd ant no man bete ys hungur.
Mathew wyth the mannes face mowtheth these wordus,
That seruus nequam haued a pnam, ant for a nolde hit vse
He haued maugre of ys mayster for eueremore aftur,
Ant bynom hym ys pnam for a nolde wirche,
Ant yaf yt hym in haste that hadde ten there byfore,
Ant senes he seyde that ys seruauns hit herde,
‘He that hath, schal haue, to helpe there hym licuth;
Ant he that nawght hath, schal nawght haue ne no man hym helpe;
Ant he that weneth wel to haue, Y wyl hit hym byreue.’
Of thys matere Y myght make a longe tale,
Ac h[i]t fallet nat for me, for Y am no dekne
To preche the peple wat that poynt menes.
Kynde Wyt wolde that euery wyght wroughte
Or to teche or to telle or trauayle wyth handus,
Contemplatyf lyf or attyf lyf, Cryst wolde hit alse.
The sawter seyt in salme in beati omnes:
Labores manuum tuarum quia manducabis.
Tow best yblessed of God ant the bet schat thow spede.”
“Yut Y preye the,” quad Perus, “por charite, ant thow cunne
Eny lef of leche craft, lere hit me, Y bydde.
For Y haue summe seruauns ben sike otherwyle:
Of al the woke they wyrche nat, so here wombe acuth.”
“I wot wel,” quad Hungur, “wat sykenesse hem ayleth:
They han manged ouer muche, that maketh hem to grone,
Ant eke ydronke to depe, that doth hem harme ofte.
Ac Y hote the,” quad Hungur, “as thow thyn hele wilnest,
That how drynke no day ar thow dyne sumwat.
Ette nat, Y hote, ar hungur the bydde
Ant sende of ys sauce to sauere wyth thy lyppus,
Ant kep sum forto sopertyme ant site nat to longe.
Arys vp ar thyn appetyd haue ete ys fulle;
Lat nat sire Sorfet sitte at thy borde:
Lef nat that liare for he ys licores of tunge,
Ant aftur many manere metus ys mawe ys afyngred.
Ant yf thow diete the thus, Y dar legge myn eyes
That fisik schal ys furred hodus for ys fode sille,
Ant eke ys cloke of Calabre wyth the cnappus of golde,
Ant be fayn by my fayth ys fysyk to lete,
Ant lerne to labory wyth land for liflode ys swete.
I defame nat fysyk, for the science ys trewe,
Ac vncunynge kaytyues that kannen nat rede a lettere
Macuth hem maystres men for to hele.
Ac hit ar maystres morthrares men for to quelle,
Ant none leches but lyares, lord hem amende!
In Ecclesiasticis the clerc that can rede
May se hit there hymsilf ant senes teche other:
Honora medicum, he seyt, for necessitatem.
For helthe from heuene, Y hope, doth out springe,
Ant therefor the byble bit ant in ys bok techet
That leches of lordus scholde here lower haue:
A regibus et principibus erit merces eorum—
Of princes ant prelatus here pencyoun schal aryse,
Ant of no pore peple no peneworth gode take.
Ac lewed Lumbardes Londona han aspyed,
That Gloten ys a god there ant greueth men ful ofte,
Ant macuht hem maystres ant medecynes schapeth,
Ant casteth men of the cardyacle into the kyrke yerdus,
Flemmynges ant Frenche men ant fele of this Englysch.”
Ant houped aftur Hungur that herd hym at the furste.
“Awrek me of thys wastores,” quad Perus, “that this world schenden.”
Hungur in haste thenne hente Wastor by the mawe
Ant wrong hym so by the wombe that al watred his eyeus,
Ant buffated the Bretoner aboute the checus
That a loked lik a lanterne al ys lyf aftur.
He bete hem so bothe that he barst nere here guttus,
Ne hadde Perus wyth a pese lof preyed hym byleue.
And wyth a beneen botte a yede hem bytwene,
Ant hitte Hungur theremyde that alle ys gottes swolle
Ant bledde into the bodyward a bolle ful of growel.
Ne hadde sire Furst the fycyan yfet watur the sannure
To abate the barly bred ant benes that they eten,
They haued be ded be thys day ant doluen al warme.
Faytores for fere tho flowen into bernus
Ant flapten on wyth fleyles fro morwen tyl euen
Betynge barly benus ant wete,
That Hungur was nat hardy on hem for to loke.
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An hep of hermytus henten hem spadus,
Ant doluen dryt ant dunge to dutten out Hungur.
Blynde ant bedreden were botned a thowsond,
That hadde be blynde ant broke-legged be the heye weye.
Hungur hem heled myt an ote cake,
Ant lame men lymes were lythed that tyme
Ant becomen knaues to kepe menne bestus,
Ant preyd por charite wyth Peres for to dwelle,
Al for couetyse of ys corn to cach awey Hungur.
Ant Perus was prowd thereof ant pulte hem in offisus,
Ant yaf hem mete ant mone as they myghte disserue.
Thenne haued Perus pite: a preyd Hungur to wende
Hom into ys oune erd ant halde there euere.
“Ac yut Y prey the,” quad Perus, “ar thow passe forthur,
Of beggares ant byddares wat best be to done?
For Y wot wel, be þow went, they wyl wyrche ful ylle:
Meschyf hit makuth they ben so meke nowthe
Ant for defaute of fode thus faste they wirchen.
Ant hit ben my blody brethurne, for God bought us alle:
Trewthe taughte me onus to louey hem vch one,
To helpe hem of alle thing as they han nede.
Now wold Y wytte, yf thow wistus, wat were the beste,
How Y myghte amaystren hem ant maken hem to wyrche,
Tho that ben staleword ant stronge ant struyores beth holden.
For bedreden ant blynde ant broke-legged wreches
That ben syke ant sory, Y schal yse mysilf
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Ant kepe hem fro colde, so me Cryst helpe,
Ant eke fro hungur ant harme as myn owne chyldren.”
“Herke now,” quad Hungur, “ant holde hit for a wysdom.
Bolde beggares ant bygge that mow here bred byswynke,
Wyth howndus bred ant horse bred holde vp here hertus;
Abaue hem wyth benus for bollyng of here wombe,
Ant yf tho gromus gruch, bide hem go ant swynke,
Ant he schal soupe swetture wen he yt hath disserued.
But yf yt be eny freke fortune haue apeyred
Wyth fuyr or wyth fals men, fonde such to knowe.
Conforte hym wyth thy catel for Crystys loue of heuene;
Loue hem ant lene hem ant so lawe of kynde wolde.”
“I wolde nat greue God,” quad Perus, “for al the god that Y welde.
Myght Y synneles do as thow seyst?” seyde Perus thenne.
“Ye, Y byhote God,” quad Hungur, “or elles the bible lyes.
Go to Genesis the geaunt, engendrour of vs alle:
In sudore ant swynk þow schalt thy mete telye
Ant laborey for thy lyflode, ant so oure lord hyghte.
Ant Sapience seth the same, Y sey hit in the byble:
Piger propter frigus no fode nolde tylye;
A schal go begged ant byd ant no man bete ys hungur.
Mathew wyth the mannes face mowtheth these wordus,
That seruus nequam haued a pnam, ant for a nolde hit vse
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Ant bynom hym ys pnam for a nolde wirche,
Ant yaf yt hym in haste that hadde ten there byfore,
Ant senes he seyde that ys seruauns hit herde,
‘He that hath, schal haue, to helpe there hym licuth;
Ant he that nawght hath, schal nawght haue ne no man hym helpe;
Ant he that weneth wel to haue, Y wyl hit hym byreue.’
Of thys matere Y myght make a longe tale,
Ac h[i]t fallet nat for me, for Y am no dekne
To preche the peple wat that poynt menes.
Kynde Wyt wolde that euery wyght wroughte
Or to teche or to telle or trauayle wyth handus,
Contemplatyf lyf or attyf lyf, Cryst wolde hit alse.
The sawter seyt in salme in beati omnes:
Labores manuum tuarum quia manducabis.
Tow best yblessed of God ant the bet schat thow spede.”
“Yut Y preye the,” quad Perus, “por charite, ant thow cunne
Eny lef of leche craft, lere hit me, Y bydde.
For Y haue summe seruauns ben sike otherwyle:
Of al the woke they wyrche nat, so here wombe acuth.”
“I wot wel,” quad Hungur, “wat sykenesse hem ayleth:
They han manged ouer muche, that maketh hem to grone,
Ant eke ydronke to depe, that doth hem harme ofte.
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That how drynke no day ar thow dyne sumwat.
Ette nat, Y hote, ar hungur the bydde
Ant sende of ys sauce to sauere wyth thy lyppus,
Ant kep sum forto sopertyme ant site nat to longe.
Arys vp ar thyn appetyd haue ete ys fulle;
Lat nat sire Sorfet sitte at thy borde:
Lef nat that liare for he ys licores of tunge,
Ant aftur many manere metus ys mawe ys afyngred.
Ant yf thow diete the thus, Y dar legge myn eyes
That fisik schal ys furred hodus for ys fode sille,
Ant eke ys cloke of Calabre wyth the cnappus of golde,
Ant be fayn by my fayth ys fysyk to lete,
Ant lerne to labory wyth land for liflode ys swete.
I defame nat fysyk, for the science ys trewe,
Ac vncunynge kaytyues that kannen nat rede a lettere
Macuth hem maystres men for to hele.
Ac hit ar maystres morthrares men for to quelle,
Ant none leches but lyares, lord hem amende!
In Ecclesiasticis the clerc that can rede
May se hit there hymsilf ant senes teche other:
Honora medicum, he seyt, for necessitatem.
For helthe from heuene, Y hope, doth out springe,
Ant therefor the byble bit ant in ys bok techet
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A regibus et principibus erit merces eorum—
Of princes ant prelatus here pencyoun schal aryse,
Ant of no pore peple no peneworth gode take.
Ac lewed Lumbardes Londona han aspyed,
That Gloten ys a god there ant greueth men ful ofte,
Ant macuht hem maystres ant medecynes schapeth,
Ant casteth men of the cardyacle into the kyrke yerdus,
Flemmynges ant Frenche men ant fele of this Englysch.”
“Be seynt Purnele,” quad Perus, “me payeth wel youre wordus.
Thys ys a louely lesson, lord hit the foryelde!
Wende now wen thy wille ys, that wyl the bytyde.”
“I behote the,” quad Hungur, “that hennes nell Y wende
Tyl Y haue dyned by thys day ant ydrunke bothe.”
Thenne haued Perus no peny pulletus to bigge,
Noythur ges ne grys but to grene chesus,
A wel, a potteful of wey ant welled croddes,
“A lof of benus ant brant to breke among myn hens,”
Ant sethe a swor by ys sowle he ne had no salt bakoun
Ne no kokenay, by Cryst, coloppus to make.
“I haue persile ant poret ant many plant koules,
Ant eke a kow ant a calf, ant a cart-mare
To draw a feld dunge, wyle the druye lastus.
Ant by thys lyflode Y mot liue til lowmasse tyme,
Ant by that Y hope to haue heruest in my crofte:
Thenne may Y dyghte thy dyner as me dere licuth.”
Alle the pore peple thenne pese coddus fette,
Benus ant bake apples they broughten in here lappe,
Chibolles ant chireuilles ant chiries ful ripe,
Ant profredon thys present to plese myd Hungur.
Hungur ett this in haste ant axed aftur more.
Thenne the folk for fere fetten hym monye
Grene poret ant pesus to peyse hym for euere.
By that yt neyghled nere heruest that newe corn cam to chepinge,
Thenne was folk fayn ant fedde Hungur myt the beste,
Wyth gode ale ant glotonye gerten hym to slepe.
Ant tho nolde Wastor nat wirche but wandren aboute,
Ne no beggare heten bred that benes in come,
But yt were koket or clerematyn or of clene wete,
Ne none halpeny ale in eny wyse drynke,
But of the best ant the brownest that in borw ys to sillen.
Laborerys that han no land bot liue on here handus
Deyneden to day of nyght olde wortus;
May no peny ale hem plese ne no pese of bakoun,
But yt be fresch flesch or fysch fryed other bake,
Ant that chaut or pleus chaut, for chillyng of ys mawe.
Ant thow he be fed wyth fresch mete ant of the fynest drynke,
But he be heyliche yhuyred, elles wol he gruche,
That he was werkman ywrought waryen the tyme,
Ant thenne corsen the kyng ant al the consayl aftur
Such lawes to loke laboreres to chaste.
Ac wyle Hungur was here mayster, wolde non gruch
Ne stryue ayeyen ys statut, so sturnelyche a locud.
Ac war ye wel, werkmen, wynneth wile ye mow,
For Hungur hydurward hasteth hym faste.
He schal awake wyth water werkmen to gaste:
Ar fyf yer be fulfult such feym schal aryse;
Torw flod ant thorw foul wedur fruytes schulle fayle,
Ant so seyth Saturne ant sent yow to warne.
Thys ys a louely lesson, lord hit the foryelde!
Wende now wen thy wille ys, that wyl the bytyde.”
“I behote the,” quad Hungur, “that hennes nell Y wende
Tyl Y haue dyned by thys day ant ydrunke bothe.”
Thenne haued Perus no peny pulletus to bigge,
Noythur ges ne grys but to grene chesus,
A wel, a potteful of wey ant welled croddes,
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Ant sethe a swor by ys sowle he ne had no salt bakoun
Ne no kokenay, by Cryst, coloppus to make.
“I haue persile ant poret ant many plant koules,
Ant eke a kow ant a calf, ant a cart-mare
To draw a feld dunge, wyle the druye lastus.
Ant by thys lyflode Y mot liue til lowmasse tyme,
Ant by that Y hope to haue heruest in my crofte:
Thenne may Y dyghte thy dyner as me dere licuth.”
Alle the pore peple thenne pese coddus fette,
Benus ant bake apples they broughten in here lappe,
Chibolles ant chireuilles ant chiries ful ripe,
Ant profredon thys present to plese myd Hungur.
Hungur ett this in haste ant axed aftur more.
Thenne the folk for fere fetten hym monye
Grene poret ant pesus to peyse hym for euere.
By that yt neyghled nere heruest that newe corn cam to chepinge,
Thenne was folk fayn ant fedde Hungur myt the beste,
Wyth gode ale ant glotonye gerten hym to slepe.
Ant tho nolde Wastor nat wirche but wandren aboute,
Ne no beggare heten bred that benes in come,
But yt were koket or clerematyn or of clene wete,
Ne none halpeny ale in eny wyse drynke,
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Laborerys that han no land bot liue on here handus
Deyneden to day of nyght olde wortus;
May no peny ale hem plese ne no pese of bakoun,
But yt be fresch flesch or fysch fryed other bake,
Ant that chaut or pleus chaut, for chillyng of ys mawe.
Ant thow he be fed wyth fresch mete ant of the fynest drynke,
But he be heyliche yhuyred, elles wol he gruche,
That he was werkman ywrought waryen the tyme,
Ant thenne corsen the kyng ant al the consayl aftur
Such lawes to loke laboreres to chaste.
Ac wyle Hungur was here mayster, wolde non gruch
Ne stryue ayeyen ys statut, so sturnelyche a locud.
Ac war ye wel, werkmen, wynneth wile ye mow,
For Hungur hydurward hasteth hym faste.
He schal awake wyth water werkmen to gaste:
Ar fyf yer be fulfult such feym schal aryse;
Torw flod ant thorw foul wedur fruytes schulle fayle,
Ant so seyth Saturne ant sent yow to warne.
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Passus Octauus
Trewthte herde telle hereof ant to Perus sente
To taken ys teme ant telyen erthe,
Ant purchased hym a pardoun a pena et a culpa
For hym ant for hys ayres for eremore aftur,
Ant bad hym halden hym at hom ant heryen ys leyes.
Ant alle that hym hulpe to herye or to sowe
Or eny manere mestere that myght Perus helpe,
Part of that pardoun the pope hath ygraunted.
Kingus and knyghtus that kepen holy kyrke
Ant ryghtfulliche in rewmes reuleth the peple
Han pardoun thorw purgatorye to passe ful sone,
In paradys wyth patriarchus to pleyen thereaftur.
Bischopus yblessed that bothe lawes conuthe
Locun on that one lawe, leren men that othur,
Ant bereth hem bothe on here bak as here baner scheweth,
Prechen here parsonus the perelus of synne,
How that schabbed schep schal here wolle saue,
Han pardoun myt the apostlus wen they passe hennes
Ant at the day of dome at hey deys sytte.
Marchauns in the margyne haued mony yerus,
But no pena et a culpa the pope nolde hem graunte;
For they helde nat here halydayus as holy chyrche wolde,
Ant for they swore by here sowle ac so most God hem helpe
Ayeynes clene conscience here catel to selle.
Ac under ys secrete sel Trewthe sente hem a lettre,
That they scholde bygge baldely wat hem beste licud,
Ant sillen hit sennus ayeyn ant sauen here wynnygus,
Ant maken mesoun-deux theremyt myseyse men to help,
Wyked weyus wyghtliche to amende,
Ant beten brugus aboute that tobroke were,
Maryen maydones or maken hem nonnus;
Pore wydewus that wylned be wedded no more,
Fynden hem fode for lordus loue of heuene;
Sette scoleres to scole or to som skynus crafte;
Releuen religioun ant renten hem bettre.
“Y schal sende yow mysilf seynt Miel myn angel
That no deuel schal yow dere, deye wan ye schulle,
That he ne schal sende youre soule saf into heuene
Ant byfor the face of my fadur fourme youre sete.
Huserye ant auarice ant hothus Y defende,
Ant that no gyle go wyth yow but the graythe trewthe.”
Thenne were marchauns mery, mony wopen for ioye
Ant yeuen Wylle for thys wrytyng wollen clothus;
For he coped thus here clause, couth hym gret mede.
To taken ys teme ant telyen erthe,
Ant purchased hym a pardoun a pena et a culpa
For hym ant for hys ayres for eremore aftur,
Ant bad hym halden hym at hom ant heryen ys leyes.
Ant alle that hym hulpe to herye or to sowe
Or eny manere mestere that myght Perus helpe,
Part of that pardoun the pope hath ygraunted.
Kingus and knyghtus that kepen holy kyrke
Ant ryghtfulliche in rewmes reuleth the peple
Han pardoun thorw purgatorye to passe ful sone,
In paradys wyth patriarchus to pleyen thereaftur.
Bischopus yblessed that bothe lawes conuthe
Locun on that one lawe, leren men that othur,
Ant bereth hem bothe on here bak as here baner scheweth,
Prechen here parsonus the perelus of synne,
How that schabbed schep schal here wolle saue,
Han pardoun myt the apostlus wen they passe hennes
Ant at the day of dome at hey deys sytte.
Marchauns in the margyne haued mony yerus,
But no pena et a culpa the pope nolde hem graunte;
For they helde nat here halydayus as holy chyrche wolde,
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Ayeynes clene conscience here catel to selle.
Ac under ys secrete sel Trewthe sente hem a lettre,
That they scholde bygge baldely wat hem beste licud,
Ant sillen hit sennus ayeyn ant sauen here wynnygus,
Ant maken mesoun-deux theremyt myseyse men to help,
Wyked weyus wyghtliche to amende,
Ant beten brugus aboute that tobroke were,
Maryen maydones or maken hem nonnus;
Pore wydewus that wylned be wedded no more,
Fynden hem fode for lordus loue of heuene;
Sette scoleres to scole or to som skynus crafte;
Releuen religioun ant renten hem bettre.
“Y schal sende yow mysilf seynt Miel myn angel
That no deuel schal yow dere, deye wan ye schulle,
That he ne schal sende youre soule saf into heuene
Ant byfor the face of my fadur fourme youre sete.
Huserye ant auarice ant hothus Y defende,
Ant that no gyle go wyth yow but the graythe trewthe.”
Thenne were marchauns mery, mony wopen for ioye
Ant yeuen Wylle for thys wrytyng wollen clothus;
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Men of lawe haued lest for letred they ben alle,
Ant so seyth the sawter ant Sapience bothe:
Super innocentem munera non accipies: a regibus et principibus erit merces eorum,
“Of prynces ant prelatus youre pencyoun schal aryse,
Ac of no pore peple no peneworth schal ye take.
Ac that speneth ys speche ant speketh for the pore
That ys innocent ant nedy ant no man apeyreth,
Conforteth hym in that cas, coueyteth nat ys godus,
But for oure lordus loue lawe for hym schewith,
Schal no deul at ys deth day dere hym a myte
That he ne worth sicurly saf, ant so the sawter wyttnesseth.
Ac to bygge water ne wynde ne wyt ys the thridde
Wolde nere holy writ, God wot the sothe.
Thise thre for thralles ben throw among vs alle
To waxen ant to wanyen were that God licuth.
His pardoun in purgatorye ful petit ys, Y trowe,
That mercedem for ys motyng of mene men resseyueth.
Ye legystres ant lawyares, lye Yc now, trow ye?
Ye, sennes ye seth thus yowsylf, seweth ye the beste.”
Alle lybbeynge laborerus that lyueden by here handus,
That trewlyche token ant trewlyche wonnen
Ant lyueden in loue in lawe for here lowe hert,
Hadden the same absolucioun that sent was Perus.
Beggaueres ne byddares ne but nat in the bulle
But yt be in the bak half wythouten, by hemsilue,
But yf here suggestioun be soth wen they schal begge.
For at that begget or byt, but yf he nede haue,
He ys fals wyth the fend ant defrauduth the nedy,
Ant eke gyleth the gyuer ageynes ys wille.
Thus they leuen nat ne no lawe kepen;
Were they haue haly watur or haly bred, habbeth they no ward,
Ant eke vnschryuen schrewus thyl schyrthorsday at eue.
They wedde none wommen that they wyth dele,
But as wilde bestus wyth wehe worthen vp togyderes
Ant bryngeth forth barnes that bastardus ben holde.
Or ys bak or ys boon a brekth in ys youthe
Ant goth ant fayteth thenne wyth here fauntus for eueremore aftur.
There ar mo mysschape amongus hem, ho so tacuth hede,
Thenne of alle othur manere men that on thys molde wandreth.
Tho that leden thus here lyf mowen lothy the tyme
That euere war they men wroȝt, wen they schulle hennes fare.
Ac holde men ant hore that helples ben of strengthe,
Ant wommen wyth childe that wyrche ne mowe,
Blynde men ant bedereden ant broken in here membris,
That tacut this mischef meklyche han as myche pardoun
As Perkyn the plowman ant yut a poynt more:
[For] loue of here lownesse oure lord hem hath graunted
Here penaunce ant here purgatorye vpon thys puyr erthe.
Ant so seyth the sawter ant Sapience bothe:
Super innocentem munera non accipies: a regibus et principibus erit merces eorum,
“Of prynces ant prelatus youre pencyoun schal aryse,
Ac of no pore peple no peneworth schal ye take.
Ac that speneth ys speche ant speketh for the pore
That ys innocent ant nedy ant no man apeyreth,
Conforteth hym in that cas, coueyteth nat ys godus,
But for oure lordus loue lawe for hym schewith,
Schal no deul at ys deth day dere hym a myte
That he ne worth sicurly saf, ant so the sawter wyttnesseth.
Ac to bygge water ne wynde ne wyt ys the thridde
Wolde nere holy writ, God wot the sothe.
Thise thre for thralles ben throw among vs alle
To waxen ant to wanyen were that God licuth.
His pardoun in purgatorye ful petit ys, Y trowe,
That mercedem for ys motyng of mene men resseyueth.
Ye legystres ant lawyares, lye Yc now, trow ye?
Ye, sennes ye seth thus yowsylf, seweth ye the beste.”
Alle lybbeynge laborerus that lyueden by here handus,
That trewlyche token ant trewlyche wonnen
Ant lyueden in loue in lawe for here lowe hert,
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Beggaueres ne byddares ne but nat in the bulle
But yt be in the bak half wythouten, by hemsilue,
But yf here suggestioun be soth wen they schal begge.
For at that begget or byt, but yf he nede haue,
He ys fals wyth the fend ant defrauduth the nedy,
Ant eke gyleth the gyuer ageynes ys wille.
Thus they leuen nat ne no lawe kepen;
Were they haue haly watur or haly bred, habbeth they no ward,
Ant eke vnschryuen schrewus thyl schyrthorsday at eue.
They wedde none wommen that they wyth dele,
But as wilde bestus wyth wehe worthen vp togyderes
Ant bryngeth forth barnes that bastardus ben holde.
Or ys bak or ys boon a brekth in ys youthe
Ant goth ant fayteth thenne wyth here fauntus for eueremore aftur.
There ar mo mysschape amongus hem, ho so tacuth hede,
Thenne of alle othur manere men that on thys molde wandreth.
Tho that leden thus here lyf mowen lothy the tyme
That euere war they men wroȝt, wen they schulle hennes fare.
Ac holde men ant hore that helples ben of strengthe,
Ant wommen wyth childe that wyrche ne mowe,
Blynde men ant bedereden ant broken in here membris,
That tacut this mischef meklyche han as myche pardoun
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[For] loue of here lownesse oure lord hem hath graunted
Here penaunce ant here purgatorye vpon thys puyr erthe.
Conclusion by Hand Q
“Pers,” quad a prest tho, “þi pardoun most I rede,
For I wil construe eche clause and kennyt the on Englysche.”
And Pers at his preyȝer the pardoun vnfoldede:
Et qui bona egerunt in vitam eternam, qui vero mala in ingnem eternum.
In to lynis it lay and not a letter more,
And was wretyn rith thus in wytten ‘e’sse of Trewthe.
“Peter,” quad the prest tho, “I can no pardoun fynde
But do wyl and haue wyl and God schal haue þi soule,
And do euyl and haue euyl, hope thow non oder
That after thi deth day to helle schalt thow wende.”
And Pers for pure tene pulled yt asunder and seyde
“Si ambulauero in medio vmbre mortis non timebo mala, quoniam tu mecum es.
I schal sesin of my sowyng and swynke not so harde,
Ne aboutyn my lyflode so besi be no more.
Off preyȝerys and penauns my plow schal ben hereafter,
And belouryn þat I below, or my lyflode fayle.
Þe prophete his payn ehte in penaunce and wepyng
Be þat the sawter vs seyth, so dede many othir:
Fuerunt michi lacrime mee panes die ac nocte.
That louyth God lely, his liflode is wel mete,
And but yf Luk lye, he lernyt vs anothir be foulys, þat we ne scholde
To besy be aboute to make the wombe joye:
Ne solliciti sitis, he seyth in his gospel,
And schewyth be exsaunple vsself for to wysse.
The foulys in the firmament, who fynt hem in wynter?
Qwan the frost fresyth, fode hem behouyth;
Haue þei no fode to go to, but God fynth hem alle.”
“Qwat,” quad þe prest to Perkyn, “Petyr, so me thynkyt,
Thow art lettryth a lytil. Who lernede the on boke?”
“Abstinence the abysse myn a b c me tawthe,
And Concience cam afterward and kennyd me bettyr.”
“Were þou a prest,” quad he, “thow mytist preche wan þe lykede:
Quoniam literaturam non cognoui þat myth be thi teme.”
“Lewyd lorel,” quad he, “lytil lokyst þou the bybil:
Ecce derisores et iurgia cum eis ne crescant.
On Salaman sawis lityl þou beholdyst.”
The prest and Perkyn eythir aposid othir,
And thorow here wordis I wok and waytede aboute,
And saw þe sonne euen south syttyn þat tyme,
Meteles and moneles on Maluerne hillys.
Musyng on þis mater a meyle wey I ȝede;
Many tyme þis metelis hath mad me to stodye
And for Pers lif plowman, petowsly in herte,
For þat I say slepyng, if it so be myth.
Ac Catoun construith nay and canonystris bothe
And seyn be hemself sompnia ne cures.
Ac for þe bible berith wytt[ne]s, wan Danyel þe prophete
Demyd the dremys of a kyng onys
That Nabugodonosor nemyn þis clerkys—
Danyel seyde, “Sere kyng, thi sweuene is to mene
That vnkouþe kyngis schul come þi kyngdome to cleyme;
Among lowere lordis thi londis schul be departid.”
As Danyel demyd in dede fel it after:
Þe kyng lees his lordschepe and lasse men it hadde.
And Iosep met merueylously how þe mone and þe sonne
And the eleuene sterris halsede him alle.
“Beau filx,” quad his fader, “for defaut we schulle,
I myself and my sonys, seke þe for nede.”
It befel as his fader seyde in Pharaoes tyme
Þat Iosep was justise Egipt to kepe—
Al þis makyt me mychil on metels to þinke
Many tymis at mydnyth wan I scholde slepe,
On Pers the plowman and qweche a pardoun he hadde
And how þe prest inproued it al be pure resoun;
And demyd þat dowel indulgense passyd,
Byenalys and trionalys and bischopis letteris.
Dowel at þe day of doom ys dyngneleche vnderfongid;
He passith al þe pardoun of seynt Peteris schirche.
Now hat þe pope power pardoun to graunt
The peple wythouten penaunce to passe to ioy.
This is a leef of beleue as letterid men techith:
Quodcumque ligaueris super terram etc.
And I beleue lely, oure lord forbede ellys,
Þat pardoun and penaunce and preyeris togydere
Mowe saue soulys þat haue synnyd seuene sethis dedly.
Ac to trostyn on trionalys, trewly me thinkyth,
Is not so seker for þe soule, sertys, as is dowel.
Therefore I rede ȝou lordis þat riche ben on erthe,
Vpon trust on ȝoure tresour trionalis to haue,
Be ȝe neuer þe balder to breke þe ten hestis.
And namely ȝe maystris, meyris and jugis,
That haue þe welthe of þis werd, for wise men be holden,
Forto purchase pardoun and þe popis bullys,
At þe dredful day of doom wan dede schul arisyn
And comyn alle tofore Crist acountis to ȝelde,
How þu laddist þi lyf and his lawis keptest,
Qwat þou dost day be day þe doom wil reherse.
Of a pokeful of pardoun ne no prouincialis letteris,
Thow þou be fondyn in fraternite among þe foure ordres
And haue indulgence dobblefold, but Dowel helpe
I nolde ȝif for ȝoure pardoun o pies hele.
Þerfor I counsel al cristin to crien God mercy,
And Mary his moder be mene betwene,
Þat God ȝif vs grace or we gon hennys
Swech werkys to werke wil we ben here
And after oure deth day dowel reherse
At þe doom þet we deden al as he vs bad and tawthe.
And þat it so mote be to God preye we alle,
To vs and alle cristin God leue it so beffalle.
For I wil construe eche clause and kennyt the on Englysche.”
And Pers at his preyȝer the pardoun vnfoldede:
Et qui bona egerunt in vitam eternam, qui vero mala in ingnem eternum.
In to lynis it lay and not a letter more,
And was wretyn rith thus in wytten ‘e’sse of Trewthe.
“Peter,” quad the prest tho, “I can no pardoun fynde
But do wyl and haue wyl and God schal haue þi soule,
And do euyl and haue euyl, hope thow non oder
That after thi deth day to helle schalt thow wende.”
And Pers for pure tene pulled yt asunder and seyde
“Si ambulauero in medio vmbre mortis non timebo mala, quoniam tu mecum es.
I schal sesin of my sowyng and swynke not so harde,
Ne aboutyn my lyflode so besi be no more.
Off preyȝerys and penauns my plow schal ben hereafter,
111
Þe prophete his payn ehte in penaunce and wepyng
Be þat the sawter vs seyth, so dede many othir:
Fuerunt michi lacrime mee panes die ac nocte.
That louyth God lely, his liflode is wel mete,
And but yf Luk lye, he lernyt vs anothir be foulys, þat we ne scholde
To besy be aboute to make the wombe joye:
Ne solliciti sitis, he seyth in his gospel,
And schewyth be exsaunple vsself for to wysse.
The foulys in the firmament, who fynt hem in wynter?
Qwan the frost fresyth, fode hem behouyth;
Haue þei no fode to go to, but God fynth hem alle.”
“Qwat,” quad þe prest to Perkyn, “Petyr, so me thynkyt,
Thow art lettryth a lytil. Who lernede the on boke?”
“Abstinence the abysse myn a b c me tawthe,
And Concience cam afterward and kennyd me bettyr.”
“Were þou a prest,” quad he, “thow mytist preche wan þe lykede:
Quoniam literaturam non cognoui þat myth be thi teme.”
“Lewyd lorel,” quad he, “lytil lokyst þou the bybil:
Ecce derisores et iurgia cum eis ne crescant.
112
The prest and Perkyn eythir aposid othir,
And thorow here wordis I wok and waytede aboute,
And saw þe sonne euen south syttyn þat tyme,
Meteles and moneles on Maluerne hillys.
Musyng on þis mater a meyle wey I ȝede;
Many tyme þis metelis hath mad me to stodye
And for Pers lif plowman, petowsly in herte,
For þat I say slepyng, if it so be myth.
Ac Catoun construith nay and canonystris bothe
And seyn be hemself sompnia ne cures.
Ac for þe bible berith wytt[ne]s, wan Danyel þe prophete
Demyd the dremys of a kyng onys
That Nabugodonosor nemyn þis clerkys—
Danyel seyde, “Sere kyng, thi sweuene is to mene
That vnkouþe kyngis schul come þi kyngdome to cleyme;
Among lowere lordis thi londis schul be departid.”
As Danyel demyd in dede fel it after:
Þe kyng lees his lordschepe and lasse men it hadde.
And Iosep met merueylously how þe mone and þe sonne
113
“Beau filx,” quad his fader, “for defaut we schulle,
I myself and my sonys, seke þe for nede.”
It befel as his fader seyde in Pharaoes tyme
Þat Iosep was justise Egipt to kepe—
Al þis makyt me mychil on metels to þinke
Many tymis at mydnyth wan I scholde slepe,
On Pers the plowman and qweche a pardoun he hadde
And how þe prest inproued it al be pure resoun;
And demyd þat dowel indulgense passyd,
Byenalys and trionalys and bischopis letteris.
Dowel at þe day of doom ys dyngneleche vnderfongid;
He passith al þe pardoun of seynt Peteris schirche.
Now hat þe pope power pardoun to graunt
The peple wythouten penaunce to passe to ioy.
This is a leef of beleue as letterid men techith:
Quodcumque ligaueris super terram etc.
And I beleue lely, oure lord forbede ellys,
Þat pardoun and penaunce and preyeris togydere
Mowe saue soulys þat haue synnyd seuene sethis dedly.
Ac to trostyn on trionalys, trewly me thinkyth,
Is not so seker for þe soule, sertys, as is dowel.
Therefore I rede ȝou lordis þat riche ben on erthe,
Vpon trust on ȝoure tresour trionalis to haue,
Be ȝe neuer þe balder to breke þe ten hestis.
114
That haue þe welthe of þis werd, for wise men be holden,
Forto purchase pardoun and þe popis bullys,
At þe dredful day of doom wan dede schul arisyn
And comyn alle tofore Crist acountis to ȝelde,
How þu laddist þi lyf and his lawis keptest,
Qwat þou dost day be day þe doom wil reherse.
Of a pokeful of pardoun ne no prouincialis letteris,
Thow þou be fondyn in fraternite among þe foure ordres
And haue indulgence dobblefold, but Dowel helpe
I nolde ȝif for ȝoure pardoun o pies hele.
Þerfor I counsel al cristin to crien God mercy,
And Mary his moder be mene betwene,
Þat God ȝif vs grace or we gon hennys
Swech werkys to werke wil we ben here
And after oure deth day dowel reherse
At þe doom þet we deden al as he vs bad and tawthe.
And þat it so mote be to God preye we alle,
To vs and alle cristin God leue it so beffalle.
Amen
Explicit vita et visio Petri Plowman
| William Langland: Piers Plowman: The Z Version | |