Chapter III: Part 3

"Emperours and erles,
And alle manere lordes,
For giftes han yonge men
To renne and to ryde.

"The pope and alle the prelates
Presentz underfongen,
{56}
And medeth men hemselven
To mayntene hir lawes. 1790

"Sergeauntz for hire servyce,
We seeth wel the sothe,
Taken mede of hir maistres,
As thei mowe acorde.

"Beggeres for hir biddynge,
Bidden men mede.

"Mynstrales for hir myrthe,
Mede thei aske.

"The kyng hath mede of his men,
To make pees in londe. 1800

"Men that teche children,
Craven after mede.

"Preestes that prechen the peple
To goode, asken mede,
And massepens and hire mete
At the meel-tymes.

"Alle kynne craftes men
Craven mede for hir prentices.

"Marchauntz and Mede
Mote nede go togideres. 1810
No wight, as I wene,
Withouten mede may libbe."

Quod the kyng to Conscience,
"By Crist! as me thynketh,
Mede is well worthi
The maistrie to have."

"Nay," quod Conscience to the kyng,
And kneled to the erthe,
"Ther are two manere of medes,
My lord, with youre leve. 1820

"That oon God of his grace
Graunteth in his blisse
{57}
To tho that wel werchen,
While thei ben here;
The prophete precheth therof,
And putte it in the Sauter,
_Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo?_ =

"Lord, who shal wonye in thi wones,
And with thyne holy seintes, 1830
Or resten in thyne holy hilles?
This asketh David;
And David assoileth it hymself,
As the Sauter telleth.
_Qui ingreditur sine macula et operatur justitiam._ =

"Tho that entren of o colour,
And of one wille,
And han y-wroght werkes
With right and with reson; 1840
And he that useth noght
The lyf of usurie,
And enformeth povere men,
And pursueth truthe.
_Qui pecuniam suam non dedit ad
usuram, et munera super innoc. etc._ =

"And alle that helpen the innocent,
And holden with the rightfulle,
Withouten mede doth hem good, 1850
And the truthe helpeth,
Swiche manere men, my lord,
Shul have this firste mede
Of God at a gret nede,
Whan thei gon hennes.

"Ther is another mede mesurelees,
{58}
That maistres desireth,
To mayntene mysdoers
Mede thei take,
And therof seith the Sauter 1860
In a salmes ende,
_In quorum manibus iniquitates
sunt, dextra eorum repleta est
muneribus._

"And he that gripeth hir gold,
So me God helpe!
Shal abien it bittre,
Or the book lieth.

"Preestes and persons
That plesynge desireth, 1870
That taken mede and moneie
For masses that thei syngeth,
Taken hire mede here,
As Mathew us techeth.
_Amen, Amen, recipiebant mercede suam._ =

"That laborers and lowe folk
Taken of hire maistres,
It is no manere mede,
But a mesurable hire. 1880

"In marchaundise is no mede,
I may it wel avowe,
It is a permutacion apertly,
A penyworth for another.

"Ac reddestow nevere _Regum_?
Thow recrayed Mede,
Whi the vengeaunce fel
On Saul and on his children?
God sente to Saul
By Samuel the prophete, 1890
{59}
That Agag of Amalec,
And al his peple after,
Sholden deye for a dede
That doon hadde hire eldres.

"For-thi seide Samuel to Saul,
'God hymself hoteth
Thee be buxom at his biddynge,
His wil to fulfille;
Weend to Amalec with thyn oost,
And what thow fyndest there sle it, 1900
Burnes and beestes
Bren hem to dethe,
Widwes and wyves,
Wommen and children,
Moebles and un-moebles,
And al thow myght fynde,
Bren it, bere it noght awey,
Be it never so riche,
For mede ne for monee,
Loke thow destruye it, 1910
Spille it and spare it noght,
Thow shalt spede the bettre.'

"And for he coveited hir catel,
And the kyng spared,
Forbar hym and his beestes bothe,
As the Bible witnesseth,
Oother wise than he was
Warned of the prophete,
God seide to Samuel
That Saul sholde deye, 1920
And al his seed for that synne
Shenfulliche ende.
Swich a meschief Mede made
Saul the kyng to have,
{60}
That God hated hym for evere,
And alle hise heires after.

"The culorum of this cas
Kepe I noght to telle,
On aventure it noyed men,
Noon ende wol I make, 1930
For so is this world went
With hem that han power,
That who so seith hem sothest
Is sonnest y-blamed.

"Conscience knowe this,
For kynde wit it me taughte,
That Reson shal regne
And reaumes governe,
And right as Agag hadde,
Happe shul somme, 1940
Samuel shal sleen hym,
And Saul shal be blamed,
And David shal be diademed,
And daunten hem alle;
And oon cristene kyng
Kepen hem alle.
Shal na-moore Mede
Be maister, as she is nouthe;
Ac love and lowenesse
And leautee togideres, 1950
Thise shul ben maistres on moolde,
Truthe to save.

"And who so trespaseth ayein truthe,
Or taketh ayein his wille,
Leauté shal don hym lawe,
And no lif ellis;
Shall no sergeaunt for his service
Were a silk howve,
{61}
Ne no pelure in his cloke
For pledynge at the barre. 1960
Mede of mysdoeres
Maketh manye lordes,
And over lordes lawes
Ruleth the reaumes.

"Ac kynde love shal come yit,
And conscience togideres,
And make of lawe a laborer;
Swich love shal arise,
And swich a pees among the peple,
And a perfit truthe, 1970
That Jewes shul wene in hire wit,
And wexen wonder glade,
That Moyses or Messie
Be come into this erthe,
And have wonder in hire hertes
That men beth so trewe.

"Alle that beren baselarde,
Brood swerd or launce,
Ax outher hachet,
Or any wepene ellis, 1980
Shal be demed to the deeth,
But if he do it smythye
Into sikel or to sithe,
To shaar or to kultour;
_Conflabunt gladios suos in vomeres, etc._ =

"Ech man to pleye with a plow,
Pykoise or spade,
Spynne or sprede donge,
Or spille hymself with sleuthe. 1990

"Preestes and persons
With _Placebo_ to hunte,
{62}
And dyngen upon David
Eche day til eve.
Huntynge or haukynge
If any of hem use,
His boost of his benefice
Worth by-nomen hym after.
Shal neither kyng ne knyght,
Constable ne meire, 2000
Overlede the commune,
Ne to the court sompne,
Ne putte hem in panel
To doon hem plighte hir truthe;
But after the dede that is doon
Oon doom shal rewarde,
Mercy or no mercy,
As truthe wole acorde.

"Kynges court and commune court,
Consistorie and chapitle, 2010
Al shal be but oon court,
And oon baron be justice.
Thanne worth Trewe-tonge a tidy man
That tened me nevere;
Batailles shul none be,
Ne no man bere wepene;
And what smyth that any smytheth,
Be smyte therwith to dethe.
_Non levabit gens contra gentem
gladium, etc._ 2020

"And er this fortune falle,
Fynde men shul the worste,
By sixe sonnes and a shipe,
And half a shef of arwes,
And the myddel of a moone,
Shal make the Jewes to torne,
{63}
And Sarzynes for that sighte
Shul synge _Gloria in excelsis, etc._
For Makometh and Mede
Mys-happe shul that tyme, 2030
For _melius est bonum nomen quam divitiæ multæ._" =

Al so wroth as the wynd
Weex Mede in a while,
"I kan no Latyn," quod she,
"Clerkes wite the sothe;
Se what Salomon seith
In Sapience bokes,
That thei that gyven giftes
The victorie wynneth, 2040
And moost worshipe hadde therwith
As holy writ telleth:
_Honorem adquiret qui dat munera, etc._ =

"Leve wel, lady," quod Conscience,
"That thi Latyn be trewe;
Ac thow art lik a lady
That radde a lesson ones,
Was _omnia probate_,
And that plesed hire herte; 2050
For that lyne was no lenger
At the leves ende.
Hadde she loked that oother half,
And the leef torned,
She sholde have founden fele wordes
Folwynge therafter,
_Quod bonum est tenete_;
Truthe that text made.
And so ferde ye, madame,
Ye kouthe na-moore fynde, 2060
{64}
Tho ye loked on Sapience
Sittynge in youre studie.
This text that ye han told
Were good for lordes;
Ac yow fayled a konnynge clerk
That kouthe the leef han torned.
And if ye seche Sapience eft,
Fynde shul ye that folweth,
A ful teneful text
To hem that taketh mede; 2070
And that is _animam autem aufert accipientium, etc._, =
And that is the tail of the text;
Of that that she shewed,
That theigh we wynne worshipe,
And with mede have victorie,
The soule that the sonde taketh
By so muche is bounde." 2078

* * * * *

{65}

_Passus Quartus de Visione, ut supra._

"Cesseth," seith the kyng, 2079
"I suffre yow no lenger;
Ye shul saughtne for sothe,
And serve me bothe.
Kis hire," quod the kyng,
"Conscience, I hote."

"Nay, by Crist!" quod Conscience,
"Congeye me er for evere,
But Reson rede me therto,
Rather wol I deye."

"And I comaunde thee," quod the kyng,
To Conscience thanne, 2090
"Rape thee to ryde,
And Reson thow fecche;
Comaunde hym that he come
My counseil to here,
For he shal rule my reaume
And rede me the beste,
And acounte with thee, Conscience,
So me Crist helpe!
How thow lernest the peple,
The lered and the lewed." 2100

"I am fayn of that foreward,"
Seide the freke thanne,
{66}
And ryt right to Reson,
And rouneth in his ere,
And seide as the kyng bad,
And sithen took his leve.

"I shal arraye me to ryde," quod Reson,
"Reste thee a while."
And called Caton his knave,
Curteis of speche, 2110
And also Tomme Trewe-tonge,--
"Tel me no tales,
Ne lesynge to laughen of,
For I loved hem nevere;
And set my sadel upon Suffre,
Til I se my tyme,
And lat warroke hym wel
With witty-wordes gerthes,
And hange on hym the hevy brydel
To holde his heed lowe, 2120
For he wol make 'wehee!'
Twies er he be there."

Thanne Conscience upon his capul
Carieth forth faste,
And Reson with hym ryt,
Rownynge togideres,
Whiche maistries Mede
Maketh on this erthe.

Oon Waryn Wisdom,
And Witty his feere, 2130
Folwed hym faste,
For thei hadde to doone
In th'escheker and in the chauncerye,
To ben descharged of thynges;
And riden faste, for Reson sholde
Rede hem the beste,
{67}
For to save hem for silver
From shame and from harmes.
And Conscience knew hem wel,
Thei loved coveitise; 2140
And bad Reson ryde faste,
And recche of hir neither.
"Ther are wiles in hire wordes,
And with Mede thei dwelleth;
Ther as wrathe and wranglynge is,
Ther wynne thei silver;
Ac where is love and leautee,
Thei wol noght come there.
_Contritio et infelicitas in viis eorum,
etc._ 2150

"Thei ne yeveth noght of God
One goose wynge.
_Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc._ =

"For woot God thei wolde do moore
For a dozeyne chicknes,
Or as manye capons,
Or for a seem of otes,
Than for the love of oure Lord,
Or alle hise leeve seintes. 2160
For-thi Reson lat hem ride,
Tho riche by hemselve,
For Conscience knoweth hem noght,
Ne Crist, as I trowe."
And thanne Reson rood faste
The righte heighe gate,
As Conscience hym kenned,
Til thei come to the kynge.

Curteisly the kyng thanne
Com ayeins Reson, 2170
{68}
And bitwene hymself and his sone
Sette hym on benche;
And wordeden wel wisely
A gret while togideres.

And thanne com Pees into parlement,
And putte forth a bille,
How Wrong ayeins his wille
Hadde his wif taken,
And how he ravysshede Rose
Reginaldes loove, 2180
And Margrete of hir maydenhede
Maugree hire chekes.
"Bothe my gees and my grys
Hise gadelynges feccheth,
I dar noght for fere of hem
Fighte ne chide.
He borwed of me Bayard,
He broughte hym hom nevere,
Ne no ferthyng therfore,
For ought I koude plede. 2190
He maynteneth hise men
To murthere myne hewen,
Forstalleth my feires,
And fighteth in my chepyng,
And breketh up my bernes dore,
And bereth awey my whete,
And taketh me but a taillé
For ten quarters of otes;
And yet he beteth me therto,
And lyth by my mayde. 2200
I am noght hardy for hym
Unnethe to loke."

The kyng knew he seide sooth,
For Conscience hym tolde
{69}
That Wrong was a wikked luft,
And wroghte muche sorwe.

Wrong was afered thanne,
And Wisdom he soughte,
To maken pees with hise pens;
And profred hym manye, 2210
And seide, "Hadde I love of my lord the kyng,
Litel wolde I recche,
Theigh Pees and his power
Pleyned hym evere."

Tho wente Wisdom
And sire Waryn the Witty,
For that Wrong hadde y-wroght
So wikked a dede,
And warnede Wrong tho
With swich a wis tale, 2220
"Who so wercheth by wille,
Wrathe maketh ofte;
I sey it by myself,
Thow shalt it wel fynde;
But if Mede it make,
Thi meschief is uppe,
For bothe thi lif and thi lond
Lyth in his grace."

Thanne wowede Wrong
Wisdom ful yerne, 2230
To maken pees with his pens,
Handy dandy payed.

Wisdom and Wit thanne
Wenten togidres,
And token Mede myd hem
Mercy to wynne.

Pees putte forth his heed,
And his panne blody,
{70}
"Withouten gilt, God it woot,
Gat I this scathe; 2240
Conscience and the commune
Knowen the sothe."

Ac Wisdom and Wit
Were aboute faste,
To overcomen the kyng
With catel, if thei myghte.

The kyng swor by Crist,
And by his crowne bothe,
That Wrong for hise werkes
Sholde wo tholie; 2250
And comaundede a constable
To casten hym in irens,
And lete hym noght thise seven yer
Seen his feet ones.

"God woot," quod Wisdom,
"That were noght the beste;
And he amendes nowe make,
Lat maynprise hym have,
And be borgh for his bale,
And buggen hym boote, 2260
And so amenden that is mys-do
And evere moore the bettre."

Wit acorded therwith,
And seide the same,
"Bettre is that boote
Bale a-doun brynge,
Than bale be y-bet,
And boote never the bettre."

And thanne gan Mede to mengen hire,
And mercy she bi-soughte, 2270
And profrede Pees a present
Al of pure golde:
{71}
"Have this, man, of me," quod she,
"To amenden thi scathe,
For I wol wage for Wrong
He wol do so na-moore."

Pitously Pees thanne
Preyde to the kynge,
To have mercy on that man
That mys-dide hym so ofte; 2280
"For he hath waged me wel,
As Wisdom hym taughte,
And I forgyve hym that gilt
With a good wille,
So that the kyng assente,
I kan seye no bettre;
For Mede hath me amendes maad,
I may na-moore axe."

"Nay," quod the kyng tho,
"So me Crist helpe! 2290
Wrong wendeth noght so a-wey,
Erst wole I wite moore.
For lope he so lightly,
Laughen he wolde;
And eft the boldere be
To bete myne hewen;
But Reson have ruthe on hym,
He shal reste in my stokkes;
And that as longe as he lyveth,
But lownesse hym borwe." 2300

Som men radde Reson tho
To have ruthe on that shrewe,
And for to counseille the kyng,
And Conscience after;
That Mede moste be maynpernour
Reson thei bi-soughte.
{72}

"Reed me noght," quod Reson,
"No ruthe to have,
Til lordes and ladies
Loven alle truthe, 2310
And haten alle harlotrie,
To heren or to mouthen it.

"Til Parnelles purfille
Be put in hire hucche,
And childrene cherissynge
Be chastynge with yerdes,
And harlottes holynesse
Be holden for an hyne.

"Til clerkene coveitise be
To clothe the povere and fede, 2320
And religiouse romeris
_Recordare_ in hir cloistres,
As seynt Beneyt hem bad,
Bernard and Fraunceis,
And til prechours prechynge
Be preved on hemselve.

"Til the kynges counseil
Be the commune profit,
Til bisshopes bayardes
Ben beggeris chaumbres, 2330
Hire haukes and hire houndes
Help to povere religious.

"And til seint James be sought
There I shal assigne,
That no man go to Galis
But if he go for evere;--
And alle Rome renneres,
For robberes biyonde,
Bere no silver over see
That signe of kyng sheweth, 2340
{73}
Neither grave ne ungrave,
Gold neither silver,
Upon forfeture of that fee,
Who so fynt it at Dovere,
But if he be marchaunt or his man,
Or messager with lettres,
Provysour or preest,
Or penaunt for hise synnes.

"And yet," quod Reson, "by the Rode!
I shal no ruthe have, 2350
While Mede hath the maistrie
In this moot-halle.
Ac I may shewe ensamples,
As I se outher while,
I seye it by myself," quod he,
"And it so were
That I were kyng with coroune
To kepen a reaume,
Sholde nevere Wrong in this world,
That I wite myghte, 2360
Ben unpunysshed in my power,
For peril of my soule,
Ne gete my grace for giftes,
So me God save!
Ne for no mede have mercy,
But mekenesse it make;
For _nullum malum_ the man
Mette with _inpunitum_,
And bad _nullum bonum_
Be _irremuneratum_. 2370

"Lat youre confessour, sire kyng,
Construe this unglosed;
And if ye werchen it in werk,
I wedde myne eris,
{74}
That lawe shal ben a laborer
And lede a-feld donge,
And love shal lede thi lond,
As the leef liketh."

Clerkes that were confessours
Coupled hem togideres, 2380
Al to construe this clause,
And for the kynges profit,
Ac noght for confort of the commune,
Ne for the kynges soule;
For I seigh Mede in the moot-halle
On men of lawe wynke,
And thei laughynge lope to hire,
And left Reson manye.
Waryn Wisdom
Wynked upon Mede, 2390
And seide, "Madame, I am youre man,
What so my mouth jangle;
I falle in floryns," quod that freke,
"And faile speche ofte."

Alle rightfulle recordede
That Reson truthe tolde;
And Wit acorded therwith,
And comendede hise wordes,
And the mooste peple in the halle,
And manye of the grete, 2400
And leten Mekenesse a maister,
And Mede a mansed sherewe.

Love leet of hire light,
And leauté yet lasse,
And seiden it so heighe
That al the halle it herde,
"Who so wilneth hire to wif,
For welthe of hire goodes,
{75}
But he be knowe for a cokewold,
Kut of my nose." 2410

Mede mornede tho,
And made hevy chere,
For the mooste commune of that court
Called hire an hore.
Ac a sisour and a somonour
Sued hire faste,
And a sherreves clerk
Bisherewed at the route;
"For ofte have I," quod he,
"Holpen yow at the barre, 2420
And yet yeve ye me nevere
The worth of a risshe."

The kyng callede Conscience,
And afterward Reson,
And recordede that Reson
Hadde rightfully shewed;
And modiliche upon Mede
With myght the kyng loked;
And gan wexe wroth with lawe,
For Mede almoost hadde shent it; 2430
And seide, "thorugh lawe, as I leve!
I lese manye eschetes;
Mede overmaistreth lawe,
And muche Truthe letteth.
Ac Reson shal rekene with yow,
If I regne any while,
And deme yow bi this day,
As ye han deserved.
Mede shal noght maynprise yow,
By the Marie of hevene! 2440
I wole have leauté in lawe,
And lete be al youre janglyng;
{76}
And as moost folk witnesseth wel,
Wrong shal be demed."

Quod Conscience to the kyng,
"But the commune wole assente,
It is ful hard, by myn heed!
Hertoo to brynge it,
Alle youre lige leodes
To lede thus evene." 2450

"By hym that raughte on the rode!"
Quod Reson to the kynge,
"But if I rule thus youre reaume,
Rende out my guttes,
If ye bidden buxomnesse
Be of myn assent."

"And I assente," seith the kyng,
"By seinte Marie my lady!
By my counseil commune,
Of clerkes and of erles; 2460
Ac redily, Reson,
Thow shalt noght ride fro me,
For, as longe as I lyve,
Lete thee I nelle."

"I am al redy," quod Reson,
"To reste with yow evere;
So Conscience be of oure counseil,
I kepe no bettre."

"And I graunte," quod the kyng,
"Goddes forbode ellis!
Als longe as oure lyf lasteth,
Lyve we togideres." 2472

* * * * *

{77}

_Passus Quintus de Visione, ut supra._

The kyng and hise knyghtes 2473
To the kirke wente,
To here matyns of the day
And the masse after.
Thanne waked I of my wynkyng,
And wo was withalle,
That I ne hadde slept sadder,
And y-seighen moore. 2480
Ac er I hadde faren a furlong,
Feyntise me hente,
That I ne myghte ferther a foot
For defaute of slepynge,
And sat softely a-doun,
And seide my bileve,
And so I bablede on my bedes,
Thei broughte me a-slepe.
And thanne saugh I muche moore
Than I bifore of tolde, 2490
For I seigh the feld ful of folk,
That I bifore of seide,
And how Reson gan arayen hym
Al the reaume to preche,
And with a cros afore the kyng
Comsede thus to techen.
{78}

He preved that thise pestilences
Were for pure synne,
And the south-westrene wynd
On Saterday at even 2500
Was pertliche for pure pride,
And for no point ellis;
Pyries and plum-trees
Were puffed to the erthe,
In ensaumple that the segges
Sholden do the bettre;
Beches and brode okes
Were blowen to the grounde,
Turned upward hire tailes,
In tokenynge of drede 2510
That dedly synne er domes-day
Shal for-doon hem alle.

Of this matere I myghte
Mamelen ful longe;
Ac I shal seye as I saugh,
So me God helpe!
How pertly afore the peple
Reson bigan to preche.

He bad Wastour go werche,
What he best kouthe, 2520
And wynnen his wastyng
With som maner crafte.

He preide Pernele
Hir purfil to lete,
And kepe it in hire cofre
For catel at hire nede.

Tomme Stowne he taughte
To take two staves,
And fecche Felice hom
Fro the wynen pyne. 2530
{79}
He warnede Watte
His wif was to blame,
For hire heed was worth half marc,
And his hood noght worth a grote;
And bad Bette kutte
A bough outher tweye,
And bete Beton therwith,
But if she wolde werche.

And thanne he chargede chapmen
To chastizen hir children, 2540
Late no wynnyng hem for-wanye
While thei be yonge,
Ne for no poustee of pestilence
Plese hem noght out of reson.
"My sire seide so to me,
And so dide my dame,
That the levere child
The moore loore bihoveth;
And Salomon seide the same,
That _Sapience_ made, 2550
_Qui parcit virgæ, odit filium_.
The Englissh of this Latyn is,
Who so wole it knowe
Who so spareth the spring,
Spilleth hise children."

And sithen he prechede prelates
And preestes togideres,
"That ye prechen to the peple,
Preve it on yowselve,
And dooth it in dede, 2560
It shal drawe yow to goode;
If ye leven as ye leren us,
We shul leve yow the bettre."

And sithen he radde Religion
{80}
Hir rule to holde;
"Lest the kyng and his conseil
Youre comunes apeire,
And be stywardes of youre stedes,
Til ye be ruled bettre."

And sithen he counseiled the kyng 2570
His commune to lovye;
"It is thi trewe tresor,
And tryacle at thy nede."

And sithen he preide the pope
Have pité on holy chirche,
And er he gyve any grace,
Governe first hymselve.

"And ye that han lawes to kepe,
Lat truthe be youre coveitise,
Moore than gold outher giftes, 2580
If ye wol God plese;
For who so contrarieth Truthe,
He telleth in the gospel,
That God knoweth hym noght,
Ne no seynt of hevene.
_Amen dico vobis, nescio vos._

"And ye that seke seynt James,
And seyntes of Rome,
Seketh seynt Truthe,
For he may save yow alle; 2590
_Qui cum patre et filio_,
That faire hem bi-falle
That seweth my sermon."
And thus seyde Reson.

Thanne ran Repentaunce,
And reherced his teme:
And garte Wille to wepe
Water with hise eighen.
{81}

Pernele Proud-herte
Platte hire to the erthe, 2600
And lay longe er she loked,
And "Lord, mercy!" cryde,
And bi-highte to hym
That us alle made,
She sholde unsowen hir serk,
And sette there an heyre,
To affaiten hire flesshe
That fiers was to synne.
"Shal nevere heigh herte me hente,
But holde I wole me lowe 2610
And suffre to be mys-seyd,
And so dide I nevere;
And now I wole meke me,
And mercy biseche,
For al this I have
Hated in myn herte."

Thanne Lechour seide, "Allas!"
And on oure Lady he cryde,
To maken mercy for hise mys-dedes
Bitwene God and his soule; 2620
With that he sholde the Saterday,
Seven yer therafter,
Drynke but myd the doke,
And dyne but ones.

Envye with hevy herte
Asked after shrifte,
And carefully _mea culpa_
He comsed to shewe.
He was as pale as a pelet,
In the palsy he semed; 2630
And clothed in a kaurymaury,
I kouthe it nought discryve,
{82}
In kirtel and courtepy,
And a knyf by his syde;
Of a freres frokke
Were the fore-sleves;
And as a leek that hadde y-leye
Longe in the sonne,
So loked he with lene chekes
Lourynge foule. 2640

His body was to-bollen for wrathe,
That he boot hise lippes;
And wryngynge he yede with the fust,
To wreke hymself he thoughte
With werkes or with wordes,
Whan he seyghe his tyme.
Ech a word that he warpe
Was of a neddres tonge;
Of chidynge and of chalangynge
Was his chief liflode, 2650
With bakbitynge and bismere,
And berynge of fals witnesse.

"I wolde ben y-shryve," quod this sherewe,
"And I for shame dorste;
I wolde be gladder, by God!
That Gybbe hadde meschaunce,
Than though I hadde this wouke y-wonne
A weye of Essex chese.

"I have a neghebore by me,
I have anoyed hym ofte, 2660
And lowen on hym to lordes
To doon hym lese his silver,
And maad his frendes be his foon
Thorugh my false tonge;
His grace and his goode happes
Greven me ful soore.
{83}

"Bitwene manye and manye
I make debate ofte,
That bothe lif and lyme
Is lost thorugh my speche. 2670
And whan I mete hym in market
That I moost hate,
I hailse hym hendely,
As I his frend were;
For he is doughtier than I,
I dar do noon oother;
Ac hadde I maistrie and myght,
God woot my wille!

"And whan I come to the kirk,
And sholde knele to the roode, 2680
And preye for the peple
As the preest techeth,
For pilgrymes and for palmeres,
For al the peple after,
Thanne I crye on my knees
That Crist gyve hem sorwe,
That beren awey my bolle
And my broke shete.

"Awey fro the auter thanne
Turne I myne eighen, 2690
And bi-holde Eleyne
Hath a newe cote;
I wisshe thanne it were myn,
And al the web after.

"And of mennes lesynge I laughe,
That liketh myn herte;
And for hir wynnynge I wepe,
And waille the tyme;
And deme that thei doon ille,
There I do wel werse. 2700
{84}
Who so under-nymeth me hero
I hate hym dedly after;
I wolde that ech a wight
Were my knave,
For who so hath moore than I,
Than angreth me soore.
And thus I lyve love-lees,
Lik a luther dogge;
That al my body bolneth,
For bitter of my galle. 2710

"I myghte noght ete many yeres
As a man oughte,
For envye and yvel wil
Is yvel to defie.
May no sugre ne swete thyng
Aswage my swellyng?
Ne no _diapenidion_
Dryve it fro myn herte?
Ne neither shrifte ne shame,
But who so shrape my mawe?" 2720

"Yis redily," quod Repentaunce,
And radde hym to the beste,
"Sorwe of synnes
Is savacion of soules."

"I am sory," quod that segge,
"I am but selde oother,
And that maketh me thus megre,
For I ne may me venge.

"Amonges burgeises have I be
Dwellyng at Londone, 2730
And gart bakbityng be a brocour
To blame mennes ware;
Whan he solde and I nought,
Thanne was I redy
{85}
To lye and to loure on my neghebore,
And to lakke his chaffare;
I wole amende this, if I may,
Thorugh myght of God almyghty."

Now awaketh Wrathe,
With two white eighen; 2740
And nevelynge with the nose,
And his nekke hangyng.

"I am Wrathe," quod he,
"I was som tyme a frere,
And the coventes gardyner
For to graffen impes;
On lymitours and listres
Lesynges I ymped,
Til thei beere leves of lowe speche,
Lordes to plese, 2750
And sithen thei blosmede a-brood
In boure to here shriftes;
And now is fallen therof a fruyt,
That folk han wel levere
Shewen hire shriftes to hem,
Than shryve hem to hir persons.

"And now persons han perceyved
That freres parte with hem,
Thise possessioners preche
And deprave freres. 2760

"And freres fyndeth hem in defaute,
As folk bereth witnesse,
That whan thei preche the peple
In many places aboute,
I Wrathe walke with hem,
And wisse hem of my bokes.
Thus thei speken of my spiritualté,
That either despiseth oother,
{86}
Til thei be bothe beggers
And by my spiritualté libben, 2770
Or ellis al riche
And ryden aboute.
I Wrathe reste nevere,
That I ne moste folwe
This wikked folk,
For swich is my grace.

"I have an aunte to nonne,
And an abbesse bothe;
Hir hadde levere swowe or swelte,
Than suffre any peyne, 2780

"I have be cook in hir kichene,
And the covent served
Manye monthes with hem,
And with monkes bothe.
I was the prioresse potager,
And othere povere ladies,
And maad hem joutes of janglyng,
That dame Johane was a bastard,
And dame Clarice a knyghtes doughter,
Ac a cokewold was hir sire; 2790
And dame Pernele a preestes fyle,
Prioresse worth she nevere,
For she hadde child in chirie-tyme,
Al our chapitre it wiste.

"Of wikkede wordes
I Wrathe hire wortes made,
Til 'thow lixt' and 'thow lixt'
Lopen out at ones,
And either hite oother
Under the cheke; 2800
Hadde thei had knyves, by Crist
Hir either hadde kild oother.
{87}

"Seint Gregory was a good pope,
And hadde a good forwit,
That no prioresse were preest,
For that he ordeyned;
They hadde thanne ben _infames_ the firste day,
Thei kan so yvele hele conseil.

"Among monkes I myghte be,
Ac many tyme I shonye it; 2810
For there ben manye felle frekes
My feeris to aspie,
Bothe priour and suppriour
And oure _pater abbas_;
And if I telle any tales,
Thei taken hem togideres,
And doon me faste frydayes
To breed and to watre,
And am chalanged in the chapitre hous
As I a child were, 2820
And baleised on the bare ers,
And no brech bitwene.
For-thi have I no likyng
With tho leodes to wonye.
I ete there unthende fisshe,
And feble ale drynke;
Ac outher while whan wyn cometh,
Thanne I drynke wyn at eve,
And have a flux of a foul mouth
Wel fyve dayes after. 2830
Al the wikkednesse that I woot
By any of oure bretheren,
I couthe it in oure cloistre,
That al oure covent woot it."

"Now repente thee," quod Repentaunce,
"And reherce thow nevere
{88}
Counseil that thow knowest
By contenaunce ne by right;
And drynk nat over delicatly,
Ne to depe neither, 2840
That thi wille by cause therof
To wrathe myghte turne.
_Esto sobrius_," he seide,
And assoiled me after,
And bad me wilne to wepe
My wikkednesse to amende.

And thanne cam Coveitise,
Kan I hym naght discryve,
So hungrily and holwe
Sire Hervy hym loked. 2850
He was bitel-browed,
And baber-lipped also,
With two blered eighen
As a blynd hagge;
And as a letheren purs
Lolled hise chekes,
Wel sidder than his chyn
Thei chyveled for elde;
And as a bonde-man of his bacon
His berd was bi-draveled, 2860
With an hood on his heed,
A lousy hat above,
And in a tawny tabard
Of twelf wynter age,
Al so torn and baudy,
And ful of lys crepyng,
But if that a lous couthe
Han lopen the bettre,
She sholde noght han walked on that welthe,
So was it thred-bare. 2870
{89}

"I have ben coveitous," quod this caytif,
"I bi-knowe it here,
For som tyme I served
Symme-atte-Style,
And was his prentice y-plight
His profit to wayte.

"First I lerned to lye,
A leef outher tweyne;
Wikkedly to weye
Was my firste lesson; 2880
To Wy and to Wynchestre
I wente to the feyre,
With many manere marchaundise,
As my maister me highte.
Ne hadde the grace of gyle y-go
Amonges my chaffare,
It hadde ben unsold this seven yer,
So me God helpe!

"Thanne drough I me among drapiers,
My donet to lerne, 2890
To drawe the liser along,
The lenger it semed;
Among the riche rayes
I rendred a lesson,
To broche hem with a pak-nedle,
And playte hem togideres,
And putte hem in a presse,
And pyne hem therinne,
Til ten yerdes or twelve
Hadde tolled out thrittene. 2900

"My wif was a webbe,
And wollen cloth made;
She spak to spynnesteres
To spynnen it oute,
{90}
Ac the pound that she paied by
Peised a quatron moore
Than myn owene auncer,
Who so weyed truthe.

"I boughte hire barly-malt,
She brew it to selle, 2910
Peny ale and puddyng ale
She poured togideres,
For laborers and for lowe folk
That lay by hymselve.

"The beste ale lay in my bour,
Or in my bed-chambre;
And who so bummed therof,
Boughte it therafter,
A galon for a grote,
God woot, no lesse! 2920
And yet it cam in cuppe-mele,
This craft my wif used.
Rose the Regrater
Was hire righte name;
She hath holden hukkerye
Al hire lif tyme.
Ac I swere now, so thee ik!
That synne wol I lete,
And nevere wikkedly weye,
Ne wikke chaffare use; 2930
But wenden to Walsyngham,
And my wif als,
And bidde the Roode of Bromholm
Brynge me out of dette."

"Repentedestow evere?" quod Repentaunce,
"Or restitucion madest."

"Yis, ones I was y-herberwed," quod he,
{91}
"With an heep of chapmen,
I roos whan thei were a-reste
And riflede hire males." 2940

"That was no restitucion," quod Repentaunce,
"But a robberis thefte;
Thow haddest be the bettre worthi
Ben hanged therfore,
Than for al that
That thow hast here shewed."

"I wende riflynge were restitucion," quod he,
"For I lerned nevere rede on boke;
And I kan no Frensshe, in feith,
But of the fertheste ende of Northfolk." 2950

"Usedestow evere usurie?" quod Repentaunce,
"In al thi lif tyme."

"Nay sothly," he seide,
"Save in my youthe
I lerned among Lumbardes
And Jewes a lesson,
To weye pens with a peis,
And pare the hevyeste,
And lene it for love of the cros,
To legge a wed and lese it. 2960
Swiche dedes I dide write,
If he his day breke,
I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages,
Than thorugh _miseretur et commodat_.

"I have lent lordes
And ladies my chaffare,
And ben hire brocour after,
And bought it myselve;
{92}
Eschaunges and chevysaunces
With swich chaffare I dele, 2970
And lene folk that lese wole
A lippe at every noble,
And with Lumbardes lettres
I ladde gold to Rome,
And took it by tale here,
And tolde hem there lasse."

"Lentestow evere lordes,
For love of hire mayntenaunce?"

"Ye, I have lent to lordes,
Loved me nevere after, 2980
And have y-maad many a knyght
Bothe mercer and draper,
That payed nevere for his prentishode
Noght a peire gloves."

"Hastow pité on povere men,
That mote nedes borwe?"

"I have as muche pité of povere men,
As pedlere hath of cattes,
That wolde kille hem, if he cacche hem myghte,
For coveitise of hir skynnes." 2990

"Artow manlich among thi neghebores
Of thi mete and drynke?"

"I am holden," quod he, "as hende
As hound is in kichene,
Amonges my neghebores, namely,
Swiche a name ich have."

"Now God lene thee nevere," quod Repentaunce,
"But thow repente the rather,
The grace on this grounde
{93}
Thi good wel to bi-sette, 3000
Ne thyne heires after thee
Have joie of that thow wynnest,
Ne thyne executours wel bi-sette
The silver that thow hem levest;
And that was wonne with wrong
With wikked men be despended.
For were I frere of that hous
Ther good feith and charité is,
I nolde cope us with thi catel,
Ne oure kirk amende, 3010
Ne have a peny to my pitaunce,
So God my soule save!
For the beste book in oure hous,
Theigh brent gold were the leves,
And I wiste witterly
Thow were swich as thow tellest.
_Servus es alterius,
Dum fercula pinguia quæris;
Pane tuo potius
Vescere, liber eris._ 3020

"Thow art an unkynde creature,
I kan thee noght assoille,
Til thow make restitucion
And rekene with hem alle;
And sithen that Reson rolle it
In the registre of hevene,
That thow hast maad ech man good,
I may thee noght assoile.
_Non dimittitur peccatum, donec restituatur
oblatum._ 3030

"For alle that han of thi good,
Have God my trouthe!
Ben holden at the heighe doom
{94}
To helpe thee to restitue;
And who so leveth noght this be sooth,
Loke in the Sauter glose,
In _Miserere mei, Deus_,
Wher I mene truthe;
_Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti, etc._
Shal nevere werkman in this world 3040
Thryve with that thow wynnest.
_Cum sancto sanctus eris;_
Construwe me this on Englisshe."

Thanne weex that sherewe in wanhope,
And wolde han hanged hym;
Ne hadde Repentaunce the rather
Reconforted hym in this manere.

"Have mercy in thi mynde,
And with thi mouth biseche it;
For Goddes mercy is moore 3050
Than alle hise othere werkes.
And al the wikkednesse in this world
That man myghte werche or thynke,
Nis na-moore to the mercy of God,
Than in the see a gleede.
_Omnis iniquitas quantum ad misericordiam
Dei, est quasi scintilla
in medio maris._

"For-thi have mercy in thy mynde,
And marchaundise leve it; 3060
For thow hast no good ground
To gete thee with a wastel,
But if it were with thi tonge,
Or ellis with thi two hondes.
For the good that thow hast geten
Bigan al with falshede,
And as longe as thow lyvest therwith,
{95}
Thow yeldest noght, but borwest.

"And if thow wite nevere to whiche,
Ne whom to restitue, 3070
Ber it to the bisshope,
And bid hym of his grace
Bi-sette it hymself,
As best is for thi soule;
For he shal answere for thee
At the heighe dome,
For thee and for many mo
That man shal yeve a rekenyng,
What he lerned yow in Lente,
Leve thow noon oother, 3080
And what he lente yow of oure Lordes good
To lette yow fro synne."

Now bi-gynneth Gloton
For to go to shrifte,
And karieth hym to kirke-warde
His coupe to shewe;
And Beton the brewestere
Bad hym good morwe,
And asked at hym with that,
Whider-ward he wolde. 3090

"To holy chirche," quod he,
"For to here masse,
And sithen I wole be shryven,
And synne na-moore."

"I have good ale, gossib," quod she,
"Gloton, woltow assaye?"

"Hastow ought in thi purs?" quod he,
"Any hote spices?"

"I have pepir and piones," quod she,
"And a pound of garleek, 3100
And a ferthyng-worth of fenel-seed
{96}
For fastynge dayes."

Thanne goth Glotin in,
And grete othes after.
Cesse the souteresse
Sat on the benche;
Watte the warner,
And his wif bothe;
Tymme the tynkere,
And tweyne of his prentices; 3110
Hikke the hakeney-man,
And Hughe the nedlere;
Clarice of Cokkeslane,
And the clerk of the chirche;
Dawe the dykere,
And a dozeyne othere.

Sire Piers of Pridie,
And Pernele of Flaundres;
A ribibour, a ratoner,
A rakiere of Chepe, 3120
A ropere, a redyng-kyng,
And Rose the dyssheres;
Godefray of Garlekhithe,
And Griffyn the Walshe;
And upholderes an heep,
Erly by the morwe,
Geve Gloton with glad chere
Good ale to hanselle.

Clement the Cobelere
Caste of his cloke, 3130
And at the newe feire
He nempned it to selle,

Hikke the hakeney-man
Hitte his hood after,
And bad Bette the bocher
{97}
Ben on his syde.

Ther were chapmen y-chose
This chaffare to preise,
That who so hadde the hood
Sholde han amendes of the cloke. 3140

Two risen up in rape,
And rouned togideres,
And preised thise peny-worthes
A-part by hemselve;
Thei kouthe noght by hir conscience
Acorden in truthe,
Til Robyn the ropere
Aroos by the southe,
And nempned hym for a nounpere,
That no debat nere. 3150

Hikke the hostiler
Hadde the cloke,
In covenaunt that Clement
Sholde the cuppe fille,
And have Hikkes hood hostiler,
And holden hym y-served.
And who so repented rathest
Sholde aryse after,
And greten sire Gloton
With a galon ale. 3160

There was laughynge and lourynge,
And "lat go the cuppe;"
And seten so till even-song,
And songen umwhile,
Til Gloton hadde y-glubbed
A galon and a gille.
Hise guttes bigonne to gothelen
As two gredy sowes;
He pissed a potel
{98}
In a pater-noster while, 3170
And blew his rounde ruwet
At his rugge-bones ende,
That alle that herde that horn
Held hir noses after,
And wisshed it hadde been wexed
With a wispe of firses.

He myghte neither steppe ne stonde,
Er he his staf hadde;
And thanne gan he to go
Like a gle-mannes bicche, 3180
Som tyme aside,
And som tyme arere,
As who so leith lynes
For to lacche foweles.

And whan he drough to the dore,
Thanne dymmed his eighen;
He stumbled on the thresshfold,
And threw to the erthe.
Clement the cobelere
Kaughte hym by the myddel, 3190
For to liften hym o-lofte;
And leyde hym on his knowes.
Ac Gloton was a gret cherl,
And a grym in the liftyng,
And koughed up a cawdel
In Clementes lappe;
Is noon so hungry hound
In Hertford shire
Dorste lape of that levynges,
So un-lovely thei smaughte. 3200

With al the wo of this world,
His wif and his wenche
Baren hym hom to his bed,
{99}
And broughte hym therinne;
And after al this excesse
He hadde an accidie,
That he sleep Saterday and Sonday,
Til sonne yede to reste.

Thanne waked he of his wynkyng,
And wiped hise eighen; 3210
The firste word that he warpe
Was "where is the bolle?"
His wif gan edwyte hym tho,
How wikkedly he lyvede;
And Repentaunce right so
Rebuked hym that tyme,
"As thow with wordes and werkes
Has wroght yvele in thi lyve,
Shryve thee, and be shamed therof,
And shewe it with thi mouthe." 3220

"I Gloton," quod the grom,
"Gilty me yelde,
That I have trespased with my tonge,
I kan noght telle how ofte;
Sworen Goddes soule,
And so me God helpe!
There no nede was,
Nyne hundred tymes.

"And over-seyen me at my soper,
And som tyme at nones, 3230
That I Gloton girte it up
Er I hadde gon a myle,
An y-spilt that myghte be spared
And spended on som hungry;
Over delicatly on fastyng-dayes
Dronken and eten bothe,
And sat som tyme so longe there,
{100}
That I sleep and eet at ones.
For love of tales in tavernes
And for drynke, the moore I dyned; 3240
And hyed to the mete er noon,
Whan fastyng-days were."

"This shewynge shrift," quod Repentaunce,
"Shal be meryt to the."

And thanne gan Gloton greete,
And gret doel to make,
For his luther lif
That he lyved hadde;
And avowed to faste,
"For hunger or for thurste, 3250
Shal nevere fyssh on Fryday
Defyen in my wombe,
Til abstinence myn aunte
Have gyve me leeve;
And yet have I hated hire
Al my lif tyme."

Thanne cam Sleuthe al bi-slabered,
With two slymy eighen;
"I moste sitte," seide the segge,
"Or ellis sholde I nappe. 3260
I may noght stonde ne stoupe,
Ne withoute a stool knele;
Were I brought a-bedde,
But if my tail-ende it made,
Sholde no ryngynge do me ryse
Er I were ripe to dyne."
He bigan Benedicite with a bolk,
And his brest knokked,
And raxed and rored,
And rutte at the laste. 3270
{101}

"What, awake, renk!" quod Repentaunce,
"And rape thee to shryfte."

"If I sholde deye bi this day,
Me list nought to loke;
I kan noght parfitly my pater-noster,
As the preest it syngeth;
But I kan rymes of Robyn Hood,
And Randolf erl of Chestre;
Ac neither of oure Lord ne of oure Lady
The leeste that evere was maked. 3280

"I have maad avowes fourty,
And foryete hem on the morwe;
I perfournede nevere penaunce
As the preest me highte;
Ne right sory for my synnes
Yet was I nevere.
And if I bidde any bedes,
But if it be in wrathe,
That I telle with my tonge
Is two myle fro myn herte. 3290
I am ocupied eche day,
Haly-day and oother,
With ydel tales at the ale,
And outher while at chirche;
Goddes peyne and his passion
Ful selde thenke I on it.

"I visited nevere feble men,
Ne fettred folk in puttes;
I have levere here an harlotrye,
Or a somer game of souters, 3300
Or lesynge to laughen at
And bi-lye my neghebores,
Than al that evere Marc made,
{102}
Mathew, Johan, and Lucas.
And vigilies and fastyng-dayes,
Alle thise late I passe;
And ligge a-bedde in Lenten,
And my lemman in myne armes,
Til matyns and masse be do,
And thanne go to the freres. 3310
Come I to _Ite, missa est_,
I holde me y-served;
I nam noght shryven som tyme,
But if siknesse it make,
Nought twyes in two yer,
And thanne up gesse I shryve me.

"I have be preest and parson
Passynge thritty wynter,
And yet can I neyther solne ne synge,
Ne seintes lyves rede; 3320
But I kan fynden in a feld,
Or in a furlang, an hare,
Bettre than in _Beatus vir,
Or in Beati omnes_,
Construe oon clause wel
And kenne it to my parisshens.
I kan holde love-dayes,
And here a reves rekenyng;
Ac in canon nor in decretals
I kan noght rede a lyne. 3330

"If I bigge and borwe aught,
But if it be y-tailed,
I foryete it as yerne;
And if men me it axe
Sixe sithes or sevene,
I forsake it with othes;
And thus tene I trewe men
{103}
Ten hundred tymes.

"And my servauntz som tyme
Hir salarie is bi-hynde; 3340
Ruthe it is to here the rekenyng,
Whan we shul rede acountes.
So with wikked wil and wrathe,
My werkmen I paye.

"If any man dooth me a bienfait,
Or helpeth me at nede,
I am unkynde ayeins curteisie,
And kan nought understounden it;
For I have and have had
Som del haukes maneres, 3350
I am noght lured with love,
But ther ligge aught under the thombe.

"The kyndenesse that myn even cristene
Kidde me fernyere,
Sixty sithes I Sleuthe
Have foryete it siththe.
In speche and in sparynge of speche
Y-spilt many a tyme
Bothe flessh and fissh,
And manye othere vitailles, 3360
Both bred and ale,
Buttre, melk, and chese,
For-sleuthed in my service
Til it myghte serve no man.

"I ran aboute in youthe,
And yaf me naught to lerne,
And evere siththe have I be beggere
For my foule sleuthe.
_Heu michi! quia sterilem vitam duxi
juvenilem._" 3370

"Repentedestow noght?" quod Repentaunce;
{104}
And right with that he swowned,
Til _Vigilate_ the veille
Fette water at hise eighen,
And flatte it on his face,
And faste on hym cryde,
And seide, "Ware thee, for Wanhope
Wolde thee bi-traye,
'I am sory for my synnes'
Seye to thiselve, 3380
And beet thiself on the brest,
And bidde hym of grace;
For is ne gilt here so gret
That his goodnesse nys moore."

Thanne sat Sleuthe up,
And seyned hym swithe,
And made a vow to-fore God
For his foule sleuthe.
"Shal no Sonday be this seven yer,
But siknesse it lette, 3390
That I ne shal do me er day
To the deere chirche;
And here matyns and masse,
As I a monk were,
Shal noon ale after mete
Holde me thennes,
Til I have even-song herd,
I bi-hote to the roode!
And yet wole I yelde ayein,
If I so much have, 3400
Al that I wikkedly wan
Sithen I wit hadde.

"And though my liflode lakke,
Leten I nelle,
That ech man ne shal have his,
{105}
Er I hennes wende;
And with the residue and the remenaunt,
Bi the Rode of Chestre!
I shal seken Truthe erst
Er I se Rome." 3410

Roberd the robbere
On _Reddite_ loked,
And for ther was noght wherof,
He wepte swithe soore;
Ac yet the synfulle sherewe
Seide to hymselve,
"Crist, that on Calvarie
Upon the cros deidest,
Tho Dysmas my brother
Bi-soughte yow of grace, 3420
And haddest mercy on that man
For _memento_ sake,
So rewe on this robbere
That _reddere_ ne have,
Ne nevere wene to wynne
With craft that I owe;
But for thi muchel mercy
Mitigacion I bi-seche,
Ne dampne me noght at domes-day
For that I dide so ille." 3430

What bi-fel of this feloun
I kan noght faire shewe;
Wel I woot he wepte faste
Water with bothe hise eighen,
And knoweliched his gilt
To Crist yet eft soones,
That _Poenetentia_ his pik
He sholde polshe newe,
And lepe with hym over lond
{106}
Al his lif tyme, 3440
For he hadde leyen by _Latro_
Luciferis aunte.

And thanne hadde Repentaunce ruthe,
And redde hem alle to knele;
"For I shal bi-seche for alle synfulle
Our Saveour of grace,
To amenden us of oure mysdedes,
And do mercy to us alle."

"Now God," quod he, "that of thi goodnesse
Bi-gonne the world to make, 3450
And of naught madest aught, and man
Moost lik to thiselve,
And sithen suffredest for to synne,
A siknesse to us alle,
And al for the beste, as I bi-leve,
What evere the book telleth.
_O felix culpa! O necessarium peccatum Adæ! etc._ =

"For thorugh that synne thi sone
Sent was to this erthe, 3460
And bicam man of a maide,
Mankynde to save:
And madest thiself with thi sone
And us synfulle y-liche
_Faciamus hominem ad imaginem
nostram. Et alibi. Qui manet
in caritate, in Deo manet, et
Deus in eo._

"And siththe with thi selve sone
In oure secte deidest, 3470
On Good-Fryday, for mannes sake,
At ful tyme of the daye,
{107}
Ther thiself ne thi sone
No sorwe in deeth feledest,
But in oure secte was the sorwe,
And thi sone it ladde.
_Captivam duxit captivitatem._

"The sonne for sorwe therof
Lees light of a tyme,
Aboute mydday whan moost light is, 3480
And meel-tyme of seintes,
Feddest with thi fresshe blood
Oure fore-fadres in derknesse.
_Populus qui ambulabat in tenebris,
vidit lucem magnam._

"And thorugh the light that lepe out of thee
Lucifer was blent.
And blewe alle thi blessed
Into the blisse of paradys.

"The thridde day after 3490
Thow yedest in oure sute,
A synful Marie the seigh,
Er seynte Marie thi dame;
And al to solace synfulle
Thow suffredest it so were.
_Non veni vocare justos sed peccatores
ad poenitentiam._

"And al that Marc hath y-maad,
Mathew, Johan, and Lucas,
Of thyne doughty dedes 3500
Was doon in oure armes.
_Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis._ =

"And by so muche me semeth
The sikerer we mowe
Bidde and bi-seche,
{108}
If it be thi wille,
That art oure fader and oure brother,
Be merciable to us,
And have ruthe on thise ribaudes 3510
That repenten hem here soore,
That evere thei wrathed thee in this world,
In word, thought, or dedes."

Thanne hent Hope an horn
Of _Deus, tu conversus vivificabis_,
And blew it with _Beati quorum
Remissæ sunt iniquitates_,
That alle seintes in hevene
Songen at ones.
_Homines et jumenta salvabis, quemadmodum 3520
multiplicasti misericordiam tuam._ =

A thousand of men tho
Thrungen togideres,
Cride upward to Crist,
And to his clene moder,
To have grace to go with hem
Truthe to seke.

Ac there was wight noon so wys
The wey thider kouthe, 3530
But blustreden forth as beestes
Over bankes and hilles;
Til late was and longe
That thei a leode mette,
Apparailled as a paynym
In pilgrymes wise.
He bar a burdoun y-bounde
With a brood liste,
In a withwynde wise
Y-wounden aboute; 3540
{109}
A bolle and a bagge
He bar by his syde,
And hundred of ampulles
On his hat seten,
Signes of Synay,
And shelles of Galice,
And many a crouche on his cloke,
And keyes of Rome,
And the vernycle bi-fore,
For men sholde knowe 3550
And se bi hise signes
Whom he sought hadde.

This folk frayned hym first,
Fro whennes he come.

"Fram Syny," he seide,
"And fram oure Lordes sepulcre;
In Bethlem and in Babiloyne,
I have ben in bothe;
In Armonye and Alisaundre,
In manye othere places. 3560
Ye may se by my signes,
That sitten on myn hatte,
That I have walked ful wide
In weet and in drye,
And sought goode seintes
For my soules helthe."

"Knowestow aught a corsaint,
That men calle Truthe?
Koudestow aught wissen us the wey,
Wher that wye dwelleth?" 3570

"Nay, so me God helpe!"
Seide the gome thanne,
"I seigh nevere palmere,
With pyk ne with scrippe,
{110}
Asken after hym er
Til now in this place."