Chapter II: Part 2

It will be necessary, in conclusion, to say a few words on the edition now offered to the public. Without taking into consideration the inaccuracies and imperfections of Whitaker's edition, its inconvenient size and high price made it altogether inaccessible to the general reader; and there appeared to be a wish for one in a more convenient and less expensive form. At the same time it was desired that a good text of a work so important for the history of our language and literature should be selected. Dr. Whitaker was not well qualified for this undertaking; he also laboured under many disadvantages; he had access to only three manuscripts, and those not very good ones; and he has not chosen the best text even of those. Unless he had some reason to believe that the book was originally written in a particular dialect, he ought to have given a preference to that among the oldest manuscripts which presents the purest language; but we cannot allow that manuscript to be chosen on a ground so capricious as "that the orthography and dialect in which it is written approach very near to that semi-Saxon jargon in the midst of which the editor was brought up, and which he continues to hear daily spoken on the confines of Lancashire, and the West Riding of the county of York." (Pref.) This could not have been the language employed by a monk of Malvern.

The present editor has endeavoured, in the leisure moments which he has been able to snatch from other employments, to supply the deficiency as well, and in as unassuming manner, as he could. He has chosen for his text a manuscript belonging to the valuable library of Trinity College, Cambridge (where its shelf-mark is B. 15, 17), because it appears to him to be the best and oldest manuscript now in existence. It is a fine folio manuscript, on vellum, written in a large hand, undoubtedly contemporary with the author of the poem, and in remarkably pure English, with ornamented initial letters. His object has been to give the poem as popular a form as is consistent with philological correctness. He has added a few notes which occurred to him in the course of editing the text, and which he hopes may render the meaning and allusions sometimes clearer to the general reader, for whom more especially they are intended. They might have been enlarged and rendered more complete, if he had been master of sufficient leisure to enable him to undertake extensive researches. But there are allusions, as well as words, in both poems to which it would be difficult at present to give any certain explanation. It has been thought advisable to give in the notes the important variations of the second text, from Dr. Whitaker's edition; and a few readings are added from a second manuscript in Trinity College Library (R. 3, 14). The editor has hoped to add to the utility of the book by a copious glossary. He has been unwillingly obliged to leave a few words without explanation; all our early alliterative poetry abounds in difficult words. In this point he has to acknowledge the kind assistance of Sir Frederick Madden, whom no person equals in profound knowledge of English glossography, and than whom no one is more generous to advise and assist those who are in need of his aid. To Sir Henry Ellis, who kindly lent him his own manuscript notes on Piers Ploughman, the editor also owes his grateful acknowledgments; and he regrets that at the time he received them the notes were already so far printed as to hinder him from making as much use of them as he could have wished.

_London, June 1, 1842._

* * * * *

THE VISION OF PIERS PLOUGHMAN

* * * * *

{1}

THE VISION OF

PIERS PLOUGHMAN.

In a somer seson, 1
Whan softe was the sonne,
I shoop me into shroudes
As I a sheep weere,
In habite as an heremite
Unholy of werkes,
Wente wide in this world
Wondres to here;
Ac on a May morwenynge
On Malverne hilles 10
Me bifel a ferly,
Of fairye me thoghte.
I was wery for-wandred,
And wente me to reste
Under a brood bank
By a bournes syde;
And as I lay and lenede,
And loked on the watres,
I slombred into a slepyng,
It sweyed so murye. 20
{2}

Thanne gan I meten
A merveillous swevene,
That I was in a wildernesse,
Wiste I nevere where,
And as I biheeld into the eest
An heigh to the sonne,
I seigh a tour on a toft
Trieliche y-maked,
A deep dale bynethe,
A dongeon therinne, 30
With depe diches and derke
And dredfulle of sighte.
A fair feeld ful of folk
Fond I ther bitwene,
Of alle manere of men,
The meene and the riche,
Werchynge and wandrynge,
As the world asketh.

Some putten hem to the plough,
Pleiden ful selde, 40
In settynge and sowynge
Swonken ful harde,
And wonnen that wastours
With glotonye destruyeth.

And somme putten hem to pride,
Apparailed hem therafter,
In contenaunce of clothynge
Comen degised.

In preires and penaunces
Putten hem manye, 50
Al for the love of oure Lord
Lyveden ful streyte,
In hope to have after
Hevene riche blisse;
{3}
As ancres and heremites
That holden hem in hire selles,
And coveiten noght in contree
To carien aboute,
For no likerous liflode
Hire likame to plese. 60

And somme chosen chaffare;
Thei cheveden the bettre,
As it semeth to our sight
That swiche men thryveth.

And somme murthes to make,
As mynstralles konne,
And geten gold with hire glee,
Giltles, I leeve.

Ac japeres and jangeleres,
Judas children, 70
Feynen hem fantasies,
And fooles hem maketh,
And han hire wit at wille
To werken, if thei wolde.
That Poul precheth of hem
I wol nat preve it here;
But _Qui loquitur turpiloquium_
Is Luciferes hyne.

Bidderes and beggeres
Faste aboute yede, 80
With hire belies and hire bagges
Of breed ful y-crammed;
Faiteden for hire foode,
Foughten at the ale.
In glotonye, God woot,
Go thei to bedde,
And risen with ribaudie,
Tho Roberdes knaves;
{4}
Sleep and sory sleuthe
Seweth hem evere. 90

Pilgrymes and palmeres
Plighten hem togidere,
For to seken seint Jame,
And seintes at Rome.
They wenten forth in hire wey,
With many wise tales,
And hadden leve to lyen
Al hire lif after.

I seigh somme that seiden
Thei hadde y-sought seintes; 100
To ech a tale that thei tolde
Hire tonge was tempred to lye,
Moore than to seye sooth,
It semed bi hire speche.

Heremytes on an heep
With hoked staves
Wenten to Walsyngham,
And hire wenches after,
Grete lobies and longe
That lothe were to swynke; 110
Clothed hem in copes,
To ben knowen from othere;
And shopen hem heremytes,
Hire ese to have.

I fond there freres,
Alle the foure ordres,
Prechynge the peple
For profit of hemselve;
Glosed the gospel,
As hem good liked; 120
For coveitise of copes,
Construwed it as thei wolde.
{5}
Many of thise maistre freres
Now clothen hem at likyng,
For hire moneie and hire marchaundize
Marchen togideres.
For sith charité hath ben chapman,
And chief to shryve lordes,
Manye ferlies han fallen
In a fewe yeres; 130
But holy chirche and hii
Holde bettre togidres,
The mooste meschief on molde
Is mountynge wel faste.

Ther preched a pardoner,
As he a preest were;
Broughte forth a bulle
With many bisshopes seles,
And seide that hymself myghte
Assoillen hem alle, 140
Of falshede, of fastynge,
Of avowes y-broken.

Lewed men leved it wel,
And liked hise wordes;
Comen up knelynge
To kissen hise bulles.
He bouched hem with his brevet,
And blered hire eighen,
And raughte with his rageman
Rynges and broches. 150

Thus thei gyven hire gold
Glotons to kepe,
And leveth in swiche losels
As leccherie haunten.

Were the bisshope y-blessed,
And worth bothe hise eris,
{6}
His seel sholde noght be sent
To deceyve the peple.
Ac it is noght by the bisshope
That the boy precheth; 160
For the parisshe preest and the pardoner
Parten the silver,
That the poraille of the parisshe
Sholde have, if thei ne were.

Parsons and parisshe preestes
Pleyned hem to the bisshope,
That hire parisshes weren povere
Sith the pestilence tyme,
To have a licence and leve
At London to dwelle, 170
And syngen ther for symonie;
For silver is swete.

Bisshopes and bachelers,
Bothe maistres and doctours,
That han cure under Crist,
And crownynge in tokene
And signe that thei sholden
Shryven hire parisshens,
Prechen and praye for hem,
And the povere fede, 180
Liggen at Londone
In Lenten and ellis.

Somme serven the kyng,
And his silver tellen
In cheker and in chauncelrie,
Chalangen hise dettes
Of wardes and of wardemotes,
Weyves and streyves.

And somme serven as servauntz
Lordes and ladies, 190
{7}
And in stede of stywardes
Sitten and demen;
Hire messe and hire matyns
And many of hire houres
Arn doon un-devoutliche;
Drede is at the laste,
Lest Crist in consistorie
A-corse ful manye.

I perceyved of the power
That Peter hadde to kepe, 200
To bynden and unbynden,
As the book telleth;
How he it lefte with love,
As oure Lord highte,
Amonges foure vertues,
The beste of alle vertues,
That cardinals ben called,
And closynge yates.
There is Crist in his kingdom
To close and to shette, 210
And to opene it to hem,
And hevene blisse shewe.

Ac of the cardinals at court
That kaughte of that name,
And power presumed in hem
A pope to make,
To han that power that Peter hadde,
Impugnen I nelle;
For in love and in lettrure
The election bilongeth, 220
For-thi I kan and kan naught
Of court speke moore.

Thanne kam ther a kyng,
Knyghthod hym ladde,
{8}
Might of the communes
Made hym to regne.

And thanne cam kynde wit,
And clerkes he made,
For to counseillen the kyng,
And the commune save. 230

The kyng and knyghthod,
And clergie bothe,
Casten that the commune
Sholde hemself fynde.

The commune contreved
Of kynde wit craftes,
And for profit of al the peple
Plowmen ordeyned,
To tilie and to travaille,
As trewe lif asketh. 240

The kyng and the commune,
And kynde wit the thridde,
Shopen lawe and leauté,
Ech man to knowe his owene.

Thanne loked up a lunatik,
A leene thyng with-alle,
And, knelynge to the kyng,
Clergially he seide:

"Crist kepe thee, sire kyng!
And thi kyng-ryche, 250
And lene thee lede thi lond,
So leauté thee lovye,
And for thi rightful rulyng
Be rewarded in hevene."

And sithen in the eyr an heigh
An aungel of hevene
Lowed to speke in Latyn,
For lewed men ne koude
{9}
Jangle ne jugge,
That justifie hem sholde, 260
But suffren and serven;
For-thi seide the aungel:
_Sum rex, sum princeps,
Neutrum fortasse deinceps;
O qui jura regis
Christi specialia regis,
Hoc quod agas melius,
Justus es, esto pius.
Nudum jus a te
Vestiri vult pietate; 270
Qualia vis metere,
Talia grana sere.
Si jus nudatur,
Nudo de jure metatur;
Si seritur pietas,
De pietate metas._

Thanne greved hym a goliardeis,
A gloton of wordes,
And to the aungel an heigh
Answerde after: 280
_Dum rex a regere
Dicatur nomen habere;
Nomen habet sine re,
Nisi studet jura tenere._

Thanne gan al the commune
Crye in vers of Latyn,
To the kynges counseil;
Construe who so wolde:
_Præcepta regis
Sunt nobis vincula legis._ 290

With that ran ther a route
Of ratons at ones,
{10}
And smale mees myd hem
Mo than a thousand,
And comen to a counseil
For the commune profit;
For a cat of a contree
Cam whan hym liked,
And overleep hem lightliche,
And laughte hem at his wille, 300
And pleide with hem perillousli,
And possed aboute.
"For doute of diverse dredes,
We dar noght wel loke;
And if we grucche of his gamen,
He wol greven us alle,
Cracchen us or clawen us,
And in hise clouches holde,
That us lotheth the lif
Er he late us passe. 310
Mighte we with any wit
His wille withstonde,
We mighte be lordes o-lofte,
And lyven at oure ese."

A raton of renoun,
Moost renable of tonge,
Seide for a sovereyn
Help to hymselve:

"I have y-seyen segges," quod he
"In the cité of Londone, 320
Beren beighes ful brighte
Abouten hire nekkes,
And somme colers of crafty werk;
Uncoupled thei wenten
Bothe in wareyne and in waast
Where hemself liked.
{11}
And outher while thei arn ellis-where,
As I here telle;
Were ther a belle on hire beighe,
By Jhesu, as me thynketh, 330
Men myghte witen wher thei wente,
And awey renne!"

"And right so," quod that raton,
"Reson me sheweth,
To bugge a belle of bras,
Or of bright silver,
And knytten it on a coler
For oure commune profit,
Wher he ryt or rest,
Or renneth to pleye; 340
And if hym list for to laike,
Thanne loke we mowen,
And peeren in his presence
The while him pleye liketh:
And, if hym wratheth, be war,
And his way shonye."

Al this route of ratons
To this reson thei assented.
Ac tho the belle was y-brought,
And on the beighe hanged, 350
Ther ne was raton in al the route,
For al the reaume of Fraunce,
That dorste have bounden the belle
About the cattes nekke,
Ne hangen it aboute the cattes hals,
Al Engelond to wynne.
Alle helden hem un-hardy,
And hir counseil feble;
And leten hire labour lost
And al hire longe studie. 360
{12}

A mous that muche good
Kouthe, as me thoughte,
Strook forth sternely,
And stood bifore hem alle,
And to the route of ratons
Reherced thise wordes:

"Though we killen the cat,
Yet sholde ther come another
To cacchen us and al oure kynde,
Though we cropen under benches. 370
For-thi I counseille al the commune
To late the cat worthe;
And be we nevere bolde
The belle hym to shewe;
For I herde my sire seyn,
Is seven yeer y-passed,
Ther the cat is a kitone
The court is ful elenge;
That witnesseth holy writ,
Who so wole it rede: 380
_Væ terræ ubi puer rex est! etc._
For may no renk ther reste have
For ratons by nyghte;
The while he caccheth conynges,
He coveiteth noght youre caroyne,
But fedeth hym al with venyson:
Defame we hym nevere.
For better is a litel los
Than a long sorwe,
The maze among us alle, 390
Theigh we mysse a sherewe;
For many mennes malt
We mees wolde destruye,
And also ye route of ratons
{13}
Rende mennes clothes,
Nere the cat of that court
That can yow over-lepe;
For hadde ye rattes youre wille,
Ye kouthe noght rule yow selve."

"I seye for me," quod the mous, 400
"I se so muchel after,
Shal nevere the cat ne the kiton
By my counseil be greved,
Thorugh carpynge of this coler
That costed me nevere
And though it hadde costned me catel,
Bi-knowen it I nolde,
But suffren, as hymself wolde,
To doon as hym liketh,
Coupled and uncoupled 410
To cacche what thei mowe.
For-thi ech a wis wight I warne,
Wite wel his owene."

What this metels by-meneth,
Ye men that ben murye
Devyne ye, for I ne dar,
By deere God in hevene.

Yet hoved ther an hundred
In howves of selk,
Sergeantz it bi-semed 420
That serveden at the barre,
Pleteden for penyes
And poundes the lawe;
And noght for love of our Lord
Unclose hire lippes ones.
Thow myghtest bettre meete myst
On Malverne hilles,
Than gete a mom of hire mouth,
{14}
Til moneie be shewed.

Barons and burgeises, 430
And bonde-men als,
I seigh in this assemblee,
As ye shul here after:
Baksteres and brewesteres,
And bochiers manye;
Wollen webbesters,
And weveres of lynnen,
Taillours and tynkers,
And tollers in markettes,
Masons and mynours, 440
And many othere craftes.
Of alle kynne lybbynge laborers
Lopen forth somme,
As dikeres and delveres,
That doon hire dedes ille,
And dryveth forth the longe day
With _Dieu save dame Emme_.

Cokes and hire knaves
Cryden, "Hote pies, hote!
Goode gees and grys! 450
Gowe, dyne, gowe!"

Taverners until hem
Trewely tolden the same,
Whit wyn of Oseye,
And reed wyn of Gascoigne,
Of the Ryn and of the Rochel,
The roost to defie.
[Al this I saugh slepynge,
And seve sithes more.] 459

* * * * *

{15}

_Passus Primus de Visione._

What this mountaigne by-meneth 460
And the merke dale,
And the feld ful of folk,
I shal yow faire shewe.

A lovely lady of leere,
In lynnen y-clothed,
Cam doun from a castel
And called me faire,
And seide, "Sone, slepestow?
Sestow this peple,
How bisie thei ben 470
Alle aboute the maze?
The mooste partie of this peple
That passeth on this erthe,
Have thei worship in this world,
Thei wilne no bettre;
Of oother hevene than here
Holde thei no tale."

I was a-fered of hire face,
Theigh she fair weere,
And seide, "Mercy, madame, 480
What is this to meene?"

"The tour on the toft," quod she,
"Truthe is therinne;
{16}
And wolde that ye wroughte,
As his word techeth!
For he is fader of feith,
And formed yow alle
Bothe with fel and with face,
And yaf yow fyve wittes,
For to worshipe hym therwith, 490
While that ye ben here.
And therfore he highte the erthe
To helpe yow echone,
Of wollene, of lynnen,
Of liflode at nede,
In mesurable manere
To make yow at ese;
And comaunded of his curteisie
In commune three thynges,
Are none nedfulle but tho, 500
And nempne hem I thynke,
And rekene hem by reson;
Reherce thow hem after.

"That oon vesture,
From cold thee to save;
And mete at meel
For mysese of thiselve;
And drynke whan thow driest;
Ac do noght out of reson,
That thow worthe the wers 510
Whan thow werche sholdest.

"For Lot in hise lif-dayes,
For likynge of drynke,
Dide by hise doughtres
That the devel liked,
Delited hym in drynke
As the devel wolde,
{17}
And leccherie hym laughte,
And lay by hem bothe,
And al he witte it the wyn 520
That wikked dede.
_Inebriamus eum vino, dormiamusque
cum eo, ut servare possimus de
patre nostro semen._
Thorugh wyn and thorugh wommen
Ther was Loth acombred,
And there gat in glotonie
Gerles that were cherles.

"For-thi dred delitable drynke,
And thow shalt do the bettre. 530
Mesure is medicine,
Though thow muchel yerne.
It is nought al good to the goost
That the gut asketh,
Ne liflode to thi likame;
For a liere hym techeth,
That is the wrecched world
Wolde thee bitraye.
For the fend and thi flesshe
Folwen togidere. 540
This and that seeth thi soule,
And seith it in thin herte;
And for thow sholdest ben y-war,
I wisse thee the beste."

"Madame, mercy!" quod I,
"Me liketh wel youre wordes;
Ac the moneie of this molde
That men so faste holdeth,
Tel me to whom, madame,
That tresour appendeth." 550

"Go to the gospel," quod she,
{18}
"That God seide hymselven;
Tho the poeple hym apposede
With a peny in the temple,
Wheither thei sholde therwith
Worshipe the kyng Cesar.

"And God asked of hym,
Of whom spak the lettre,
And the ymage was lik
That therinne stondeth. 560

"'Cesares,' thei seiden,
'We seen it wel echone.'

"'_Reddite Cæsari_,' quod God,
'That _Cæsari_ bifalleth,
_Et quæ sunt Dei Deo_,'
Or ellis ye don ille;
For rightfully reson
Sholde rule yow alle,
And kynde wit be wardeyn
Youre welthe to kepe, 570
And tutour of youre tresor,
And take it yow at nede,
For housbondrie and hii
Holden togidres."

Thanne I frayned hire faire,
For hym that me made,
"That dongeon in the dale,
That dredful is of sighte,
What may it be to meene,
Madame, I yow biseche?" 580

"That is the castel of Care;
Who so comth therinne
May banne that he born was,
To bodi or to soule.
Therinne wonyeth a wight
{19}
That Wrong is y-hote,
Fader of falshede,
And founded it hymselve.
Adam and Eve
He egged to ille; 590
Counseilled Kaym
To killen his brother;
Judas he japed
With Jewen silver,
And sithen on an eller
Hanged hymselve.
He is lettere of love,
And lieth hem alle
That trusten on his tresour;
Bitrayeth he hem sonnest." 600

Thanne hadde I wonder in my wit
What womman it weere,
That swiche wise wordes
Of holy writ shewed;
And asked hire on the heighe name,
Er she thennes yede,
What she were witterly
That wissed me so faire.

"Holi chirche I am," quod she,
"Thow oughtest me to knowe; 610
I underfeng thee first,
And the feith taughte;
And broughtest me borwes
My biddyng to fulfille,
And to loven me leelly
The while thi lif dureth."

Thanne I courbed on my knees,
And cried hire of grace;
And preide hire pitously
{20}
Preye for my sinnes, 620
And also kenne me kyndely
On Crist to bi-leve,
That I myghte werchen his wille
That wroghte me to man.
"Teche me to no tresor,
But tel me this ilke,
How I may save my soule,
That seint art y-holden."

"Whan alle tresors arn tried," quod she,
"Treuthe is the beste; 630
I do it on _Deus caritas_,
To deme the sothe,
It is as dereworthe a drury
As deere God hymselven.

"Who is trewe of his tonge,
And telleth noon oother,
And dooth the werkes therwith,
And wilneth no man ille,
He is a God by the gospel
A-grounde and o-lofte, 640
And y-lik to oure Lord,
By seint Lukes wordes.
The clerkes that knowen this,
Sholde kennen it aboute,
For cristen and un-cristen
Cleymeth it echone.

"Kynges and knyghtes
Sholde kepen it by reson,
Riden and rappen doun
In reaumes aboute, 650
And taken _transgressores_,
And tyen hem faste,
Til treuthe hadde y-termyned
{21}
Hire trespas to the ende.
And that is profession apertli
That apendeth to knyghtes;
And naught to fasten o friday
In fyve score wynter,
But holden with hym and with here
That wolden alle truthe, 660
And nevere leve hem for love
Ne for lacchynge of silver.
For David in hise dayes
Dubbed knyghtes,
And dide hem sweren on hir swerdes
To serven truthe evere;
And who so passed that point
Was apostata in the ordre.

"But Crist kyngene kyng
Knyghted ten, 670
Cherubyn and seraphyn,
Swiche sevene and othere
And yaf hem myght in his majestee,
The murier hem thoughte,
And over his meene meynee
Made hem archangeles;
Taughte hem by the Trinitee
Treuthe to knowe;
To be buxom at his biddyng,
He bad hem nought ellis. 680

"Lucifer with legions
Lerned it in hevene;
But for he brak buxomnesse
His blisse gan he tyne,
And fel fro that felawshipe
In a fendes liknesse,
Into a deep derk helle,
{22}
To dwelle there for evere;
And mo thousandes myd hym
Than man kouthe nombre 690
Lopen out with Lucifer
In lothliche forme,
For thei leveden upon hym
That lyed in this manere:
_Ponam pedem in aquilone, et similis ero altissimo._ =

"And alle that hoped it myghte be so,
Noon hevene myghte hem holde,
But fellen out in fendes liknesse
Nyne dayes togideres, 700
Til God of his goodnesse
Gan stablisse and stynte,
And garte the hevene to stekie
And stonden in quiete.

"Whan thise wikkede wenten out,
In wonder wise thei fellen;
Somme in the eyr, somme in erthe,
And somme in helle depe;
Ac Lucifer lowest lith
Yet of hem alle, 710
For pride that he putte out,
His peyne hath noon ende.
And alle that werchen with wrong,
Wende thei shulle,
After hir deth day
And dwelle with that sherewe.

"And tho that werche wel,
As holy writ telleth,
And enden as I er seide
In truthe, that is the beste, 720
Mowe be siker that hire soules
{23}
Shul wende to hevene,
Ther treuthe is in trinitee,
And troneth hem alle.
For-thi I seye, as I seyde er,
By sighte of thise textes,
Whan alle tresors arn tried,
Truthe is the beste;
Lereth it thise lewed men,
For lettred men it knoweth, 730
That treuthe is tresor
The trieste on erthe."

"Yet have I no kynde knowyng." quod I,
"Ye mote kenne me bettre,
By what craft in my cors
It comseth, and where."

"Thow doted daffe," quod she,
"Dulle are thi wittes;
To litel Latyn thow lernedest,
Leode, in thi youthe." 740
_Heu michi! quia sterilem duxi vitam juvenilem._ =

"It is a kynde knowyng," quod she,
"That kenneth in thyn herte,
For to loven thi Lord
Levere than thiselve,
No dedly synne to do,
Deye theigh thow sholdest;
This I trowe be truthe.
Who kan teche thee bettre, 750
Loke thow suffre hym to seye,
And sithen lere it after;
For truthe telleth that love
Is triacle of hevene.
May no synne be on hym seene,
{24}
That useth that spice,
And alle hise werkes be wroughte
With love as hym liste;
And lered it Moyses for the leveste thyng,
And moost lik to hevene, 760
And al so the plentee of pees
Moost precious of vertues;
For hevene myghte nat holden it,
It was so hevy of hymself,
Til it hadde of the erthe
Eten his fille.

"And whan it hadde of this fold
Flesshe and blood taken,
Was nevere leef upon lynde
Lighter therafter, 770
And portatif and persaunt
As the point of a nedle,
That myghte noon armure it lette,
Ne none heighe walles.

"For-thi is love ledere
Of the Lordes folk of hevene,
And a meene, as the mair is
Bitwene the kyng and the commune;
Right so is love a ledere,
And the law shapeth, 780
Upon man for hise mysdedes
The mercyment he taxeth.
And for to knowen it kyndely
It comseth by myght,
And in the herte there is the heed
And the heighe welle;
For in kynde knowynge in herte,
Ther a myght bigynneth;
And that falleth to the fader
{25}
That formed us alle, 790
Loked on us with love,
And leet his sone dye
Mekely for oure mysdedes,
To amenden us alle.
And yet wolde he hem no wo
That wroughte hym that peyne,
But mekely with mouthe
Mercy bisoughte,
To have pité of that peple
That peyned hym to dethe. 800

"There myghtow sen ensample
In hymself oone,
That he was myghtful and meke,
And mercy gan graunte
To hem that hengen hym on heigh
And his herte thirled.

"For-thi I rede yow, riche,
Haveth ruthe of the povere;
Though ye be myghtful to mote,
Beeth meke in youre werkes, 810
For the same mesures that ye mete,
Amys outher ellis,
Ye shulle ben weyen therwith
Whan ye wenden hennes.
_Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis, remetietur vobis._ =

"For though ye be trewe of youre tonge
And treweliche wynne,
And as chaste as a child
That in chirche wepeth, 820
But if ye loven leelly
And lene the povere,
Swich good as God yow sent
{26}
Goodliche parteth,
Ye ne have namoore merite
In masse nor in houres,
Than Malkyn of hire maydenhede
That no man desireth.

"For James the gentile
Jugged in hise bokes, 830
That feith withouten the feet
Is right no thyng worthi,
And as deed as a dore-tree,
But if the dedes folwe.
_Fides sine operibus mortua est, etc._

"For-thi chastité withouten charité
Worth cheyned in helle;
It is as lewed as a lampe
That no light is inne.
Manye chapeleyns arn chaste, 840
Ac charité is aweye;
Are no men avarouser than hii
Whan thei ben avaunced,
Unkynde to hire kyn,
And to alle cristene
Chewen hire charité,
And chiden after moore;
Swiche chastité withouten charité
Worth cheyned in helle.

"Manye curatours kepen hem 850
Clene of hire bodies;
Thei ben acombred with coveitise,
Thei konne noght doon it from hem,
So harde hath avarice
Y-hasped hem togideres;
And that is no truthe of the Trinité,
But tricherie of helle,
{27}
And lernynge to lewed men
The latter for to deele.
For-thi thise wordes 860
Ben writen in the gospel,
_Date, et dabitur vobis_,
For I deele yow alle,
And that is the lok of love,
And leteth out my grace,
To conforten the carefulle
A-combred with synne.

"Love is leche of lif,
And next oure Lord selve,
And also the graithe gate 870
That goth into hevene;
For-thi I seye, as I seide
Er by the textes,
Whan alle tresors ben tried,
Treuthe is the beste.

"Now have I told thee what truthe is,
That no tresor is bettre;
I may no lenger lenge thee with,
Now loke thee oure Lorde." 879

* * * * *

{28}

_Passus Secundus de Visione, ut supra._

Yet I courbed on my knees, 880
And cried hire of grace,
And seide, "Mercy, madame,
For Marie love of hevene,
That bar that blisful barn
That boughte us on the rode,
Kenne me by som craft
To knowe the false."

"Loke up on thi left half,
And lo where he stondeth!
Bothe Fals and Favel, 890
And hire feeres manye."

I loked on my left half,
As the lady me taughte,
And was war of a womman
Worthiliche y-clothed,
Purfiled with pelure
The fyneste upon erthe,
Y-corouned with a coroune,
The kyng hath noon bettre;
Fetisliche hire fyngres 900
Were fretted with gold wyr,
And theron rede rubies
As rede as any gleede,
{29}
And diamaundes of derrest pris,
And double manere saphires,
Orientals and ewages,
Envenymes to destroye.

Hire robe was ful riche,
Of reed scarlet engreyned,
With ribanes of reed gold 910
And of riche stones.
Hire array me ravysshed,
Swich richesse saugh I nevere;
I hadde wonder what she was,
And whos wif she were.

"What is this womman," quod I,
"So worthili atired?"

"That is Mede the mayde," quod she,
"Hath noyed me ful ofte,
And y-lakked my lemman 920
That Leautee is hoten,
And bi-lowen hire to lordes
That lawes han to kepe.

"In the popes paleis
She is pryvee as myselve;
But soothnesse wolde noght so,
For she is a bastarde;
For fals was hire fader
That hath a fikel tonge,
And nevere sooth seide 930
Sithen he com to erthe;
And Mede is manered after hym,
Right as kynde asketh
_Qualis pater talis filius.
Bonus arbor bonum fructum facit._

"I oughte ben hyere than she,
I kam of a bettre;
{30}
My fader the grete God is
And ground of alle graces,
So God withouten gynnyng, 940
And I his goode doughter,
And hath yeven me mercy
To marie with myselve,
And what man be merciful
And leelly me love,
Shal be my lord and I his leef
In the heighe hevene.

"And what man taketh Mede,
Myn heed dar I legge,
That he shal lese for hire love 950
A lappe of _caritatis_.

"How construeth David the king
Of men that taketh Mede,
And men of this moolde
That maynteneth truthe,
And how ye shul save yourself,
The sauter bereth witnesse:
_Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo, etc._ =

"And now worth this Mede y-maried 960
Unto a mansed sherewe,
To oon fals fikel tonge,
A fendes biyete;
Favel thorugh his faire speche
Hath this folk enchaunted,
And al is Lieres ledynge,
That she is thus y-wedded.

"To-morwe worth y-maked
The maydenes bridale,
And there myghtow witen, if thow wilt, 970
Whiche thei ben alle
{31}
That longen to that lordshipe,
The lasse and the moore.
Knowe hem there, if thow kanst,
And kepe thow thi tonge,
And lakke hem noght, but lat hem worthe
Till leauté be justice,
And have power to punysshe hem,
Thanne put forth thi reson.
Now I bikenne thee Crist," quod she, 980
"And his clene moder,
And lat no conscience acombre thee
For coveitise of Mede."

Thus lefte me that lady
Liggynge a-slepe;
And how Mede was y-maried
In metels me thoughte,
That al the riche retenaunce
That regneth with the false,
Were boden to the bridale 990
On bothe two sides,
Of alle manere of men
The meene and the riche;
To marien this mayde
Were many men assembled,
As of knyghtes and of clerkes,
And oother commune peple,
As sisours and somonours,
Sherreves and hire clerkes,
Bedelles and baillifs, 1000
And brocours of chaffare,
Forgoers and vitaillers,
And advokettes of the arches;
I kan noght rekene the route
That ran aboute Mede.
{32}

Ac Symonie and Cyvylle,
And sisours of courtes,
Were moost pryvee with Mede
Of any men, me thoughte.
Ac Favel was the firste 1010
That fette hire out of boure,
And as a brocour broughte hire
To be with Fals enjoyned.

Whan Symonye and Cyvylle
Seighe hir bothe wille,
Thei assented, for silver,
To seye as bothe wolde.

Thanne leep Liere forth, and seide,
"Lo here a chartre!"
That Gile with hise grete othes 1020
Gaf hem togidere,
And preide Cyvylle to see,
And Symonye to rede it.

Thanne Symonye and Cyvylle
Stonden forth bothe,
And unfoldeth the feffement
That Fals hath y-maked,
And thus bigynnen thise gomes
To greden ful heighe:
_Sciant præsentes et futuri, etc._ 1030

Witeth and witnesseth,
That wonieth upon this erthe,
That Mede is y-maried
Moore for hire goodes
Than for any vertue or fairnesse,
Or any free kynde.
Falsnesse is fayn of hire,
For he woot hire riche;
And Favel with his fikel speche
{33}
Feffeth by this chartre, 1040
To be princes in pride
And poverte to despise,
To bakbite and to bosten,
And bere fals witnesse,
To scorne and to scolde,
And sclaundre to make,
Unbuxome and bolde
To breke the ten hestes.

And the erldom of Envye
And Wrathe togideres, 1050
With the chastilet of Cheste,
And Chaterynge out of reson.

The countee of Coveitise,
And alle the costes aboute,
That is Usure and Avarice,
Al I hem graunte,
In bargaynes and in brocages,
With al the burghe of Thefte,

And al the lordshipe of Leccherie
In lengthe and in brede, 1060
As in werkes and in wordes,
And in waitynges with eighes,
And in wedes and in wisshynges,
And with ydel thoughtes,
There as wil wolde
And werkmanshipe fayleth.

Glotonye he gaf hem ek,
And grete othes togidere,
And al day to drynken
At diverse tavernes, 1070
And there to jangle and jape,
And jugge hir even cristen;
And in fastynge dayes to frete
{34}
Er ful tyme were,
And thanne to sitten and soupen
Til sleep hem assaille;
And breden as burghe swyn,
And bedden hem esily,
Til sleuthe and sleep
Sliken hise sydes, 1080
And thanne wanhope to awaken hem so
With no wil to amende,
For he leveth be lost,
This is hir laste ende.

And thei to have and to holde,
And hire heires after,
A dwellynge with the devel,
And dampned be for evere,
With alle the appurtinaunces of purgatorie =
Into the pyne of helle. 1091

Yeldynge for this thyng,
At one dayes tyme,
Hire soules to Sathan,
To suffre with hym peynes,
And with hym to wonye with wo
While God is in hevene.

In witnesse of which thyng,
Wrong was the firste,
And Piers the pardoner 1100
Of Paulynes doctrine,
Bette the bedel
Of Bokyngham shire,
Reynald the reve
Of Rutland sokene,
Maude the millere,
And many mo othere.
{35}

In the date of the devel
This dede I ensele,
By sighte of Sire Symonie 1110
And Cyvyles leeve.

Thanne tened hym Theologie,
Whan he this tale herde;
And seide unto Cyvyle,
"Now sorwe mote thow have,
Swiche weddynges to werche,
To wrathe with truthe;
And er this weddynge be wroght,
Wo thee bitide!

"For Mede is muliere 1120
Of Amendes engendred,
And God graunteth to gyve
Mede to Truthe;
And thow hast gyven hire to a gilour;
Now God gyve thee sorwe!
Thi text telleth thee noght so,
Truthe woot the sothe;
For _Dignus est operarius_
His hire to have,
And thow hast fest hire to Fals, 1130
Fy on thi lawe!
For al bi lesynges thow lyvest
And lecherouse werkes.
Symonye and thiself
Shenden holi chirche;
The notaries and ye
Noyen the peple;
Ye shul a-biggen it bothe,
By God that me made!

"Wel ye witen, wernardes, 1140
But if youre wit faille,
{36}
That Fals is feithlees
And fikel in hise werkes,
And was a bastarde y-bore
Of Belsabubbes kynne;
And Mede is muliere,
A maiden of goode,
And myghte kisse the kyng
For cosyn, and she wolde.

"For-thi wercheth by wisdom, 1150
And by wit also;
And ledeth hire to Londone,
There it is y-shewed,
If any lawe wol loke
Thei ligge togideres;
And though justices juggen hire
To be joyned to Fals,
Yet be war of weddynge;
For witty is Truthe,
And Conscience is of his counseil, 1160
And knoweth yow echone,
And if he fynde yow in defaute
And with the false holde,
It shal bi-sitte youre soules
Ful soure at the laste."

Herto assenteth Cyvyle,
Ac Symonye ne wolde,
Til he hadde silver for his service,
And also the notaries.

Thanne fette Favel forth 1170
Floryns ynowe,
And bad Gile to gyven
Gold al aboute,
And namely to the notaries
That hem noon ne faille,
{37}
And feffe false witnesses
With floryns ynowe,
"For thei may Mede a-maistrye,
And maken at my wille."

Tho this gold was y-gyve, 1180
Gret was the thonkyng
To Fals and to Favel
For hire faire giftes,
And comen to conforten
From care the false,
And seiden, "Certes, sire,
Cessen shul we nevere,
Til Mede be thi wedded wif
Thorugh wittes of us alle;
For we have Mede a-maistried 1190
With oure murie speche,
That she graunteth to goon,
With a good wille,
To London, to loken
If the lawe wolde
Juggen yow joyntly
In joie for evere."

Thanne was Falsnesse fayn,
And Favel as blithe,
And leten somone alle segges 1200
In shires aboute,
And bad hem alle be bown,
Beggers and othere,
To wenden with hem to Westmynstre
To witnesse this dede.

Ac thanne cared thei for caples
To carien hem thider,
And Favel fette forth thanne
Foles ynowe,
{38}
And sette Mede upon a sherreve 1210
Shoed al newe.

And Fals sat on a sisour,
That softeli trotted;
And Favel on a flaterere
Fetisly atired.

Tho hadde notaries none,
Anoyed thei were,
For Symonye and Cyvylle
Sholde on hire feet gange.

Ac thanne swoor Symonye, 1220
And Cyvylle bothe,
That somonours sholde be sadeled
And serven hem echone,
And late apparaille thise provisours
In palfreyes wise,
Sire Symonye hymself
Shal sitte upon hir bakkes.

"Denes and southdenes,
Drawe yow togideres,
Erchdekenes and officials, 1230
And alle youre registrers,
Lat sadle hem with silver
Oure synne to suffre,
As avoutrye and divorses,
And derne usurie,
To bere bisshopes aboute
A-brood in visitynge.

"Paulynes pryvees
For pleintes in consistorie,
Shul serven myself 1240
That Cyvyle is nempned.

"And cart-sadle the commissarie,
Oure cart shal he lede,
{39}
And fecchen us vitailles.
At _Fornicatores_.
And maketh of Lyere a lang cart
To leden alle thise othere,
As freres and faitours,
That on hire feet rennen."

And thus Fals and Favel 1250
Fareth forth togideres,
And Mede in the middes,
And alle thise men after.

I have no tome to telle
The tail that hire folwed;
Ac Gyle was for-goer,
And gyed hem alle.

Sothnesse seigh hem wel,
And seide but litel,
And priked his palfrey, 1260
And passed hem alle,
And com to the kynges court,
And Conscience it tolde;
And Conscience to the kyng
Carped it after.

"Now, by Crist," quod the kyng,
"And I cacche myghte
Fals or Favel,
Or any of hise feeris,
I wolde be wroken of tho wrecches 1270
That wercheth so ille,
And doon hem hange by the hals,
And alle that hem maynteneth;
Shal nevere man of this molde
Meynprise the leeste,
But right as the lawe wol loke,
Lat falle on hem alle."
{40}

And comaunded a constable
That com at the firste,
To attachen tho tyrauntz, 1280
"For any thyng I hote,
And fettreth faste Falsnesse,
For any kynnes giftes,
And girdeth of Gyles heed,
And lat hym go no ferther;
And if ye lacche Lyere,
Lat hym noght ascapen
Er he be put on the pillory,
For any preyere, I hote;
And bryngeth Mede to me 1290
Maugree hem alle."

Drede at the dore stood,
And the doom herde,
And how the kyng comaunded
Constables and sergeauntz
Falsnesse and his felawshipe
To fettren and to bynden.

Thanne Drede wente wyghtliche,
And warned the False,
And bad hym fle for fere, 1300
And hise felawes alle.

Falsnesse for fere thanne
Fleigh to the ffreres,
And Gyle dooth hym to go,
A-gast for to dye;
Ac marchauntz metten with hym
And made hym abide,
And bi-shetten hym in hire shoppes
To shewen hire ware,
Apparailed hym as apprentice 1310
The peple to serve.
{41}

Lightliche Lyere
Leep awey thanne,
Lurkynge thorugh lanes,
To-lugged of manye.
He was nowher welcome,
For his manye tales,
Over al y-honted,
And y-hote trusse,
Til pardoners hadde pité, 1320
And pulled hym into house.
They wesshen hym and wiped hym.
And wounden hym in cloutes,
And senten hym with seles
On Sondayes to chirches,
And yeven pardoun for pens
Pounde-mele aboute.

Thanne lourede leches,
And lettres thei sente,
That he sholde wonye with hem 1330
Watres to loke.

Spycers speken with hym,
To spien hire ware;
For he kouthe of hir craft,
And knewe manye gommes.

And mynstrales and messagers
Mette with hym ones,
And helden hym an half-yeer
And ellevene dayes.

Freres with fair speche 1340
Fetten hym pennes,
And for knowynge of comeres
Coped hym as a frere;
Ac he hath leve to lepen out,
As ofte as hym liketh,
{42}
And is welcome whan he wile,
And woneth with hem ofte.

Alle fledden for fere,
And flowen into hernes;
Save Mede the mayde, 1350
Na-mo dorste abide.
Ac trewely to telle,
She trembled for drede,
And ek wepte and wrong,
Whan she was attached. 1355

* * * * *

{43}

_Passus Tertius de Visione, ut supra._

Now is Mede the mayde, 1356
And na-mo of hem alle,
With bedeles and with baillies
Brought bifore the kyng.

The kyng called a clerk, 1360
Kan I noght his name,
To take Mede the maide
And maken hire at ese.
"I shal assayen hire myself,
And soothliche appose,
What man of this moolde
That hire were levest.
And if she werche bi wit,
And my wil folwe,
I wol forgyven hire this gilt, 1370
So me God helpe!"

Curteisly the clerk thanne,
As the kyng highte,
Took Mede bi the myddel
And broghte hire into chambre;
And ther was murthe and mynstralcie,
Mede to plese.

They that wonyeth in Westmynstre =
Worshipeth hire alle, 1380
{44}
Gentilliche with joye;
The justices somme
Busked hem to the bour
Ther the burde dwellede,
To conforten hire kyndely,
By clergies leve;
And seiden, "Mourne noght, Mede,
Ne make thow no sorwe;
For we wol wisse the kyng,
And thi wey shape, 1390
To be wedded at thi wille,
And wher thee leef liketh,
For al Consciences cast
Or craft, as I trowe."

Mildely Mede thanne
Merciede hem alle
Of hire grete goodnesse,
And gaf hem echone
Coupes of clene gold,
And coppes of silver, 1400
Rynges with rubies,
And richesses manye;
The leeste man of hire meynee
A moton of golde.
Than laughte thei leve
Thise lordes at Mede.

With that comen clerkes
To conforten hire the same,
And beden hire be blithe;
"For we beth thyne owene, 1410
For to werche thi wille,
The while thow myght laste."

Hendiliche heo thanne
Bi-highte hem the same,
{45}
To loven hem lelly,
And lordes to make,
And in the consistorie at the court
Do callen hire names;
"Shal no lewednesse lette
The leode that I lovye, 1420
That he ne worth first avaunced;
For I am bi-knowen,
There konnynge clerkes
Shul clokke bi-hynde."

Thanne cam ther a confessour,
Coped as a frere;
To Mede the mayde
He meved thise wordes,
And seide ful softely,
In shrift as it were, 1430
"Theigh lewed men and lered men
Hadde leyen by thee bothe,
And Falsnesse hadde y-folwed thee
Alle thise fifty wynter,
I shal assoille thee myself
For a seem of whete,
And also be thi bedeman,
And bere wel thi message
Amonges knyghtes and clerkes,
Conscience to torne." 1440

Thanne Mede for hire mysdedes
To that man kneled,
And shrof hire of hire sherewednesse,
Shamelees, I trowe;
Tolde hym a tale,
And took hym a noble,
For to ben hire bedeman
And hire brocour als.
{46}

Thanne he assoiled hire soone,
And sithen he seide, 1450
"We have a wyndow in werchynge
Wole sitten us ful hye,
Woldestow glaze that gable
And grave therinne thy name,
Syker sholde thi soule be
Hevene to have."

"Wiste I that," quod that womman,
"I wolde noght spare
For to be youre frend, frere,
And faile yow nevere, 1460
While ye love lordes
That lecherie haunten,
And lakketh noght ladies
That loven wel the same.
It is freletee of flesshe,
Ye fynden it in bokes,
And a cours of kynde
Wherof we comen alle.
Who may scape sclaundre,
The scathe is soone amended; 1470
It is synne of the sevene
Sonnest relessed.

"Have mercy," quod Mede,
"Of men that it haunteth,
And I shal covere youre kirk,
Youre cloistre do maken,
Wowes do whiten,
And wyndowes glazen,
Do peynten and portraye,
And paie for the makynge, 1480
That every segge shal seye
I am suster of youre house."
{47}

Ac God to alle good folk
Swich gravynge defendeth,
To writen in wyndowes
Of hir wel dedes,
An aventure pride be peynted there,
And pomp of the world;
For Crist knoweth thi conscience,
And thi kynde wille, 1490
And thi cost and thi coveitise,
And who the catel oughte.

For-thi I lere yow, lordes,
Leveth swiche werkes;
To writen in wyndowes
Of youre wel dedes,
Or to greden after Goddes men
Whan ye dele doles,
On aventure ye have youre hire here,
And youre hevene als. 1500
_Nesciat sinistra quid faciat dextra._

Lat noght thi left half
Late ne rathe
Wite what thow werchest
With thi right syde;
For thus by the gospel
Goode men doon hir almesse.

Maires and maceres,
That menes ben bitwene
The kyng and the comune 1510
To kepe the lawes,
To punysshe on pillories
And pynynge-stooles,
Brewesters and baksters,
Bochiers and cokes,
For thise are men on this molde
{48}
That moost harm wercheth
To the povere peple
That percel-mele buggen;
For thei enpoisone the peple 1520
Pryveliche and ofte,
Thei richen thorugh regratrie,
And rentes hem biggen,
With that the povere peple
Sholde putte in hire wombe.
For toke thei on trewely,
Thei tymbred nought so heighe,
Ne boughte none burgages,
Be ye ful certeyne.

Ac Mede the mayde 1530
The mair hath bi-sought
Of alle swiche selleris
Silver to take,
Or presentz withouten pens,
As pieces of silver,
Rynges or oother richesse,
The regratiers to mayntene;
"For my love," quod that lady,
"Love hem echone,
And suffre hem to selle 1540
Som del ayeins reson."

Salomon the sage
A sermon he made,
For to amenden maires
And men that kepen lawes;
And tolde hem this teme,
That I telle thynke,
_Ignis devorabit tabernacula eorum
qui libenter accipiunt munera,
etc._ 1550

{49}
Among thise lettrede leodes
This Latyn is to mene,
That fir shal falle and brenne
Al to bloo askes
The houses and homes
Of hem that desireth
Yiftes or yeres-yeves
By cause of hire offices.

The kyng fro the conseil cam,
And called after Mede, 1560
And of sente hire as swithe
With sergeauntz manye,
And broughte hire to boure
With blisse and with joye.

Curteisly the kyng thanne
Comsed to telle,
To Mede the mayde
He meveth thise wordes,
"Unwittily, womman,
Wroght hastow ofte, 1570
Ac worse wroghtestow nevere
Than tho thow Fals toke.
But I forgyve thee that gilt,
And graunte thee my grace;
Hennes to thi deeth day
Do so na-moore.

"I have a knyght Conscience,
Cam late fro biyonde;
If he wilneth thee to wif,
Wiltow hym have?" 1580

"Ye, lord," quod that lady,
"Lord forbede it ellis!
But I be holly at youre heste,
Lat hange me soone."
{50}

And thanne was Conscience called
To come and appere
Bifore the kyng and his conseil,
As clerkes and othere.

Knelynge Conscience
To the kyng louted, 1590
To wite what his wille were,
And what he do wolde.

"Woltow wedde this womman," quod the kyng,
"If I wole assente?
For she is fayn of thi felaweshipe,
For to be thi make."

Quod Conscience to the kyng,
"Crist it me forbede!
Er I wedde swich a wif,
Wo me bitide! 1600
For she is frele of hire feith,
Fikel of hire speche,
And maketh men mysdo
Many score tymes;
Trust of hire tresor
Bitrayeth ful manye.

"Wyves and widewes
Wantonnes she techeth,
And lereth hem lecherie
That loveth hire giftes. 1610
Youre fader she felled
Thorugh false biheste,
And hath enpoisoned popes,
And peired holy chirche.
Is noght a bettre baude,
By hym that me made!
Bitwene hevene and helle,
In erthe though men soughte.
{51}
For she is tikel of hire tail,
And tale-wis of hire tonge; 1620
As commune as a cartwey
To ech a knave that walketh,
To monkes, to mynstrales,
To meseles in hegges.

"Sisours and somonours,
Swiche men hire preiseth;
Sherreves of shires
Were shent if she ne were;
For she dooth men lese hire lond
And hire lif bothe; 1630
She leteth passe prisoners,
And paieth for hem ofte,
And gyveth the gailers gold
And grotes togidres,
To unfettre the fals
Fle where hym liketh;
And taketh the trewe bi the top
And tieth hem faste,
And hangeth hem for hatrede
That harm dide nevere. 1640

"To be corsed in consistorie
She counteth noght a bene;
For she copeth the commissarie,
And coteth hise clerkes.
She is assoiled as soone
As hireself liketh;
And may neigh as muche do
In a monthe one,
As youre secret seel
In sixe score dayes. 1650
For she is pryvee with the pope,
Provisours it knoweth;
{52}
For sire Symonie and hirselve
Seleth hire bulles.

"She blesseth thise bisshopes,
Theigh thei be lewed;
Provendreth persones,
And preestes maynteneth,
To have lemmans and lotebies
Alle hire lif daies, 1660
And bryngeth forth barnes
Ayein forbode lawes.
Ther she is wel with the kyng,
Wo is the reaume;
For she is favourable to fals,
And de-fouleth truthe ofte.

"By Jhesus! with hire jeweles
Youre justices she shendeth,
And lith ayein the lawe,
And letteth hym the gate, 1670
That feith may noght have his forth,
Hire floryns go so thikke.
She ledeth the lawe as hire list,
And love-daies maketh,
And doth men lese thorugh hire love,
That lawe myghte wynne
The maze for a mene man,
Though he mote hire evere.
Lawe is so lordlich
And looth to maken ende, 1680
Withouten presentz or pens
She pleseth wel fewe.

"Barons and burgeises
She bryngeth in sorwe,
And al the comune in care
That coveiten lyve in truthe;
{53}
For clergie and coveitise
She coupleth togidres.
This is the lif of that lady;
Now Lord gyve hire sorwe! 1690
And alle that maynteneth hire men,
Meschaunce hem bitide!
For povere men may have no power
To pleyne hem, though thei smerte.
Swich a maister is Mede
Among men of goode."

Thanne mournede Mede,
And mened hire to the kynge
To have space to speke,
Spede if she myghte. 1700

The kyng graunted hire grace,
With a good wille,
"Excuse thee, if thow kanst;
I kan na-moore seggen.
For Conscience accuseth thee,
To congeien thee for evere."

"Nay, lord," quod that lady,
"Leveth hym the werse,
Whan ye witen witterly
Wher the wrong liggeth. 1710
Ther that meschief is gret,
Mede may helpe.
And thow knowest, Conscience,
I kam noght to chide
Ne deprave thi persone,
With a proud herte.
Wel thow woost, wernarde,
But if thow wolt gabbe,
Thow hast hanged on myn half
Ellevene tymes, 1720
{54}
And also griped my gold,
Gyve it where thee liked;
And whi thow wrathest thee now,
Wonder me thynketh.
Yet I may as I myghte
Menske thee with giftes,
And mayntene thi manhode
Moore than thow knowest.

"Ac thow hast famed me foule
Bifore the kyng here; 1730
For killed I nevere no kyng
Ne counseiled therafter,
Ne dide as thow demest
I do it on the kynge.

"In Normandie was he noght
Noyed for my sake;
Ac thow thiself soothly
Shamedest hym ofte,
Crope into a cabane
For cold of thi nayles, 1740
Wendest that wynter
Wolde han y-lasted evere,
And dreddest to be ded
For a dym cloude,
And hyedest homward
For hunger of thi wombe.

"Withouten pité, pilour,
Povere men thow robbedest;
And bere hire bras at thi bak
To Caleis to selle, 1750
Ther I lafte with my lord,
His lif for to save.
I made his men murye,
And mournynge lette;
{55}
I batred hem on the bak,
And boldede hire hertes,
And dide hem hoppe for hope
To have me at wille.
Hadde I ben marchal of his men,
By Marie of hevene! 1760
I dorste have leyd my lif,
And no lasse wedde,
He sholde have be lord of that lond
In lengthe and in brede,
And also kyng of that kith
His kyn for to helpe,
The leeste brol of his blood
A barones piere.

"Cowardly thow, Conscience,
Conseiledest hym thennes, 1770
To leven his lordshipe
For a litel silver,
That is the richeste reaume
That reyn over-hoveth.

"It bi-cometh to a kyng
That kepeth a reaume,
To yeve mede to men,
That mekely hym serveth,
To aliens and to alle men,
To honouren hem with giftes; 1780
Mede maketh hym bi-loved
And for a man holden.