Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

"If possession be poison,
And inparfite hem make,
Good were to deschargen hem,
For holy chirches sake,
And purgen hem of poison,
Er moore peril falle. 10680

"If preesthode were parfit,
The peple sholde amende
That contrarien Cristes lawe,
And cristendom dispise.
For alle paynymes preieth,
And parfitly bileveth
In the holy grete God,
And his grace thei asken,
And make hir mone to Makometh
Hir message to shewe. 10690
Thus in a feith leve that folk,
And in a fals mene;
And that is routhe for rightful men
That in the reawme wonyen,
{327}
And a peril to the pope,
And prelates that he maketh,
That bere bisshopes names
Of Bethleem and Babiloigne,
That huppe aboute in Engelond
To halwe mennes auteres, 10700
And crepe amonges curatours,
And confessen ageyn the lawe.
_Nolite mittere falcem in messem alienam, etc._

"Many man for Cristes love
Was martired in Romayne,
Er any cristendom was knowe there,
Or any cros honoured.

"Every bisshop that bereth cros,
By that he is holden
Thorugh his province to passe, 10710
And to his peple to shewe hym,
Tellen hem and techen hem
On the Trinité to bileve,
And feden hem with goostly foode,
And gyve there it nedeth.
_In domo mea non est panis neque
vestimentum, et ideo nolite constituere
me regem._

"Ozias seith for swiche
That sike ben and feble, 10720
_Inferte omnes decimas in horreum
meum, ut sit cibus in domo mea._

"Ac we cristene creatures
That on the cros bileven,
Arn ferme as in the feith,
Goddes forbode ellis!
And han clerkes to kepen us therinne,
{328}
And hem that shul come after us.

"And Jewes lyven in lele lawe,
Oure Lord wroot it hymselve 10730
In stoon, for it stedefast was,
And stonde sholde evere.
_Dilige Deum et proximum_,
Is parfit Jewen lawe;
And took it Moyses to teche men
Til Messie coome;
And on that lawe thei lyve yit,
And leten it the beste,
And yit knewe thei Crist
That cristendom taughte 10740
For a parfit prophete
That muche peple savede
Of selkouthe sores,
Thei seighen it ofte,
Bothe of miracles and merveilles,
And how he men festede,
With two fisshes and fyve loves,
Fyve thousand peple;
And by that mangerie men myghte wel se
That Messie he semede, 10750
And whan he lifte up Lazar,
That leid was in grave,
And under stoon deed and stank,
With stif vois hym callede:
_Lazare, veni foras._
Dide hym rise and rome,
Right bifore the Jewes.

"Ac thei seiden and sworen
With sorcerie he wroughte,
And studieden to struyen hym, 10760
And struyden hemselve;
{329}
And thorugh his pacience, hir power
To pure noght he broughte.
_Patientes vincunt._

"Daniel of hire undoynge
Devyned and seide,
_Cum sanctus sanctorum veniat, cessabit
unctio vestra._
And wenen tho wrecches
That he were _pseudo-propheta_, 10770
And that his loore be lesynges,
And lakken it alle,
And hopen that he be to come
That shal hem releve,
Moyses eft or Messie
Hir maistres yit devyneth.

"Ac Pharisees and Sarzens,
Scribes and Jewes,
Arn folk of oon feith,
The fader God thei honouren. 10780
And sithen that the Sarzens,
And also the Jewes,
Konne the firste clause of oure bileve,
_Credo in Deum patrem omnipotentem_,
Prelates of cristene provinces
Sholde preve, if thei myghte,
To lere hem litlum and litlum
_Et in Jesum Christum filium_,
Til thei kouthe speke and spelle
_Et in Spiritum sanctum_,
And reden it and recorden it
With _remissionem peccatorum,
Carnis resurrectionem, et vitam æternam. Amen._" 10793

* * * * *

{330}

_Passus Decimus Sextus, etc. et Primus de Do-bet._

"Now faire falle yow," quod I tho, 10794
"For youre faire shewyng;
For Haukyns love, the actif man,
Evere I shal yow lovye!
Ac yit I am in a weer
What charité is to mene."

"It is a ful trie tree," quod he, 10800
"Trewely to telle;
Mercy is the more therof,
The myddul stok is ruthe;
The leves ben lele wordes,
The lawe of holy chirche;
The blosmes beth buxom speche,
And benigne lokynge;
Pacience hatte the pure tree,
And pure symple of herte;
And so, thorugh God and thorugh goode men, 10810
Groweth the fruyt charité."

"I wolde travaille," quod I, "this tree to se,
Twenty hundred myle;
And for to have my fulle of that fruyt,
{331}
Forsake alle othere saulees.
Lord!" quod I, "if any wight wite
Whider out it groweth."

"It groweth in a gardyn," quod he,
"That God made hymselve,
Amyddes mannes body, 10820
The more is of that stokke,
Herte highte the herber
That it inne groweth.
And _liberum arbitrium_
Hath the lond the ferme
Under Piers the Plowman,
To piken it and to weden it."

"Piers the Plowman!" quod I tho,
And al for pure joye
That I herde nempne his name, 10830
Anoon I swowned after,
And lay longe in a lone dreem;
And at the laste, me thoughte
That Piers the Plowman
Al the place me shewed,
And bad me to toten on the tree,
On top and on roote;
With thre piles was it under-pight,
I perceyved it soone.

"Piers," quod I, "I preie thee, 10840
Whi stonde thise piles here?"

"For wyndes, wiltow wite," quod he,
To witen it fro fallyng.
_Cum ceciderit justus, non collidetur,
quia Dominus supponit manum
suam._
And in blowyng tyme, abite the flowres,
But if thise piles helpe,
{332}

"The world is a wikked wynd
To hem that willen truthe; 10850
Coveitise comth of that wynd,
And crepeth among the leves,
And for-freteth neigh the fruyt
Thorugh manye faire sightes;
Thanne with the firste pil I palle hym down,
That is _Potentia Dei_.

"The flessh is a fel wynd,
And in flouryng tyme
Thorugh likynge and lustes
So loude he gynneth blowe, 10860
That it norisseth nyce sightes,
And som tyme wordes,
And wikkede werkes therof,
Wormes of synne,
And for-biteth the blosmes
Right to the bare leves.

"Than sette I to the secounde pil
_Sapientia Dei patris_;
That is the passion and the power
Of oure prince Jhesu. 10870
Thorugh preieres and thorugh penaunces,
And Goddes passion in mynde,
I save it til I se it ripen
And som del y-fruyted.

"And thanne fondeth the fend
My fruyt to destruye,
With alle the wiles that he kan;
And waggeth the roote,
And casteth up to the crop
Unkynde neighebores; 10880
Bakbiteris breke the cheste,
Brawleris and chideris,
{333}
And leith a laddre therto,
Of lesynges are the ronges,
And feccheth awey my floures som tyme
Afore bothe myne eighen.
Ac _liberum arbitrium_
Letteth hym som tyme,
That is lieutenaunt to loken it wel,
Bi leve of myselve. 10890
_Videatis qui peccat in spiritum
sanctum nunquam remittetur,
etc. Hoc est idem, qui peccat
per liberum arbitrium non
repurgatur._

"Ac whan the fend and the flessh
Forth with the world
Manacen bihynde me
My fruyt for to fecche,
Thanne _liberum arbitrium_ 10900
Laccheth the firste plante,
And palleth adoun the pouke,
Pureliche thorugh grace
And help of the Holy Goost,
And thus have I the maistrie."

"Now faire falle yow! Piers," quod I,
"So faire ye discryven
The power of thise postes,
And hire propre myghtes.
Ac I have thoughtes a threve 10910
Of thise thre piles,
In what wode thei woxen,
And where that thei growed;
For alle are thei aliche longe,
Noon lasse than oother,
And to my mynde, as me thinketh,
{334}
On o more thei growed,
And of o greetnesse,
And grene of greyn thei semen."

"That is sooth," quod Piers, 10920
"So it may bifalle;
I shal telle thee as tid
What this tree highte.
The ground there it groweth,
Goodnesse it hatte;
And I have told thee what highte the tree,
The Trinité it meneth."

And egreliche he loked on me;
And therfore I spared
To asken hym any moore therof, 10930
And bad hym ful faire
To discryve the fruyt
That so faire hangeth.

"Heer no bynethe," quod he tho,
"If I nede hadde,
Matrimoyne I may nyme,
A moiste fruyt withalle;
Thanne continence is neer the crop,
As kaylewey bastard,
Thanne bereth the crop kynde fruyt, 10940
And clennest of alle,
Maidenhode aungeles peeris
And rathest wole be ripe,
And swete withouten swellyng,
Sour worth it nevere."

I preide Piers tho to pulle a-doun
An appul, and he wolde,
And suffre me to assaien
What savour it hadde.

And Piers caste to the crop, 10950
{335}
And thanne comsed it to crye,
And waggede widwehode,
And it wepte after;
And whan it meved matrimoyne,
It made a foul noise.
And I hadde ruthe whan Piers rogged,
It gradde so rufulliche;
For evere as thei dropped a-doun,
The devel was redy
And gadrede hem alle togideres, 10960
Bothe grete and smale,
Adam and Abraham,
And Ysaye the prophete,
Sampson and Samuel,
And seint Johan the Baptist,
Bar hem forth bodily,
No body hym letted,
And made of holy men his hoord
_In limbo inferni_,
There is derknesse and drede, 10970
And the devel maister.

And Piers, for pure tene,
Of that a pil he raughte;
He hitte after hym,
Hitte how it myghte,
_Filius_ by the fader wille,
And frenesse of _Spiritus sancti_,
To go robbe that rageman,
And reve the fruyt fro hym.

And thanne spak _Spiritus sanctus_ 10980
In Gabrielis mouthe,
To a maide that highte Marie,
A meke thyng withalle,
That oon Jhesus a justices sone
{336}
Moste jouke in hir chambre,
Til _plenitudo temporis_
Fully comen were,
That Piers fruyt floured,
And felle to be rype,
And thanne sholde Jhesus juste therfore, 10990
By juggement of armes,
Wheither sholde fonge the fruyt,
The fend or hymselve.

The maide myldeliche tho
The messager graunted,
And seide hendeliche to hym,
"Lo me his hand-maiden
For to werchen his wille,
Withouten any synne."
_Ecce ancilla Domini, fiat mihi, etc._ 11000

And in the wombe of that wenche
Was he fourty woukes,
Til he weex a faunt thorugh hir flessh,
And of fightyng kouthe,
To have y-foughte with the fend
Er ful tyme come.
And Piers the Plowman
Perceyved plener tyme,
And lered hym lechecraft
His lif for to save, 11010
That though he were wounded with his enemy,
To warisshen hymselve,
And dide hym assaie his surgenrie
On hem that sike were,
Til he was perfit praktisour,
If any peril fille;
And soughte out the sike
And synfulle bothe,
{337}
And salvede sike and synfulle,
Bothe blynde and crokede, 11020
And commune wommen convertede,
And to goode turnede.
_Non est sanis opus medicinæ, sed in, etc._

Bothe meseles and mute,
And in the menyson blody,
Ofte heeled swiche,
He ne held it for no maistrie,
Save tho he leched Lazar
That hadde y-leye in grave,
_Quatriduanus_ quelt, 11030
Quyk dide hym walke.
Ac as he made the maistrie,
_Moestus coepit esse_,
And wepte water with hise eighen,
Ther seighen it manye.
Some that the sighte seighen,
Seiden that tyme
That he was leche of lif,
And lord of heigh hevene.
Jewes jangled ther ayein, 11040
And juggede lawes
And seide he wroghte thorugh wichecraft,
And with the develes myghte.
_Dæmonium habet, etc._

Thanne, "are ye cherles," quod ich,
"And youre children bothe,
And Sathan youre saveour,
Ye self now ye witnessen."
"For I have saved yow self," seith Crist,
"And youre sones after, 11050
Youre bodies, youre beestes,
{338}
And blynde men holpen
And fed yow with two fisshes
And with fyve loves,
And lefte baskettesful of broke mete,
Bere awey who so wolde."
And mys-seide the Jewes manliche
And manaced hem to bete,
And knokked on hem with a corde,
And caste a-doun hir stalles 11060
That in chirche chaffareden,
Or chaungeden any moneie,
And seide it in sighte of hem alle,
So that alle herden:--

"I shal overturne this temple,
And a-doun throwe it,
And in thre daies after
Edifie it new,
And maken it as muche outher moore
In alle manere poyntes 11070
As evere it was, and as wid;
Wherfore I hote yow,
Of preieres and of perfitnesse
This place that ye callen."
_Domus mea domus orationis vocabitur._ =

Envye and yvel wil
Was in the Jewes;
Thei casten and contreveden
To kulle hym whan thei myghte, 11080
Eche day after oother
Hir tyme thei awaiteden;
Til it bifel on a Friday
A litel bifore Pasqe,
The Thursday bifore
{339}
There he made his maundee,
Sittynge at the soper
He seide thise wordes,
"I am sold thorugh oon of yow,
He shal the tyme rewe, 11090
That evere he his Saveour solde,
For silver or ellis."

Judas jangled ther ayein;
Ac Jhesus hym tolde,
It was hymself soothly,
And seide _tu dicis_.

Thanne wente forth that wikked man,
And with the Jewes mette,
And tolde hem a tokne
How to knowe with Jhesus, 11100
And which tokne to this day
To muche is y-used,
That is kissynge and fair countenaunce,
And unkynde wille.
And so was with Judas tho,
That Jhesus bitrayed:
"_Ave, raby_," quod that ribaud,
And right to hym he yede,
And kiste hym, to be caught therby,
And kulled of the Jewes. 11110

Thanne Jhesus to Judas
And to the Jewes seide,
"Falsnesse I fynde
In thi faire speche,
And gile in thi glad chere,
And galle is in thi laughyng;
Thow shalt be myrour
To many men to deceyve,
Ac the worse and the wikkednesse
{340}
Shal worthe upon thiselve. 11120
_Necesse est ut veniant scandala:
Væ homini illi per quem scandalum
venit!_

"Though I bi treson be take
At youre owene wille,
Suffreth myne apostles in pees
And in pays gange."
On a Thursday in thesternesse
Thus was he taken,
Thorugh Judas and Jewes, 11130
Jhesus was his name,
That on the Friday folwynge
For mankyndes sake
Justed in Jherusalem,
A joye to us alle.
On cros upon Calvarie
Crist took the bataille
Ayeins deeth and the devel,
Destruyed hir botheres myghtes,
Deide and deed for-dide, 11140
And day of nyght made.

And I awaked therwith,
And wiped myne eighen,
And after Piers the Plowman
Pried and stared
Est-ward and west-ward,
I waited after faste,
And yede forth as an ydiot
In contree to aspie,
After Piers the Plowman 11150
Many a place I soughte.
And thanne mette I with a man,
A myd-lenten Sonday,
{341}
As hoor as an hawethorn,
And Abraham he highte.
I frayned hym first
Fram whennes he come,
And of whennes he were,
And whider that he soughte.

"Iam Feith," quod that freke, 11160
"It falleth noght to lye,
And of Abrahames hous
An heraud of armes,
And seke after a segge
That I seigh ones,
A ful bold bacheler,
I knew hym by his blasen."

"What berth that buyrn?" quod I tho,
"So blisse thee bitide!"

"Thre leodes in oon lyth, 11170
Noon lenger than oother,
Of oon muchel and myght
In mesure and in lengthe;
That oon dooth, alle dooth,
And ech dooth bi his one.

"The firste hath myght and majestee,
Makere of alle thynges,
_Pater_ is his propre name,
A persone by hymselve.

"The secounde of tha sire is 11180
Sothfastnesse _filius_,
Wardeyn of that wit hath
Was evere withouten gynnyng.

"The thridde highte the Holi Goost,
A persone by hymselve,
The light of al that lif hath
{342}
A-londe and a-watre,
Confortour of creatures,
Of hym cometh alle blisse.

"So thre bilongeth for a lord 11190
That lordshipe cleymeth,
Might and mene
To knowe his owene myghte,
Of hym and of his servaunt,
And what thei suffre bothe.

"So God that gynnyng hadde nevere,
But tho hym good thoughte,
Sente forth his sone,
As for servaunt that tyme,
To ocupie hym here, 11200
Til issue were spronge,
That is, children of charité,
And holi chirche the moder;
Patriarkes and prophetes
And apostles were the children,
And Crist and cristendom,
And cristene holy chirche,
In menynge that man moste
On o God bileve.
And there hym likede and lovede, 11210
In thre persones hym shewede,
And that it may be so and sooth,
Manhode it sheweth,
Wedlok and widwehode,
With virginité y-nempned,
In tokenynge of the Trinité
Was out of man taken.

"Adam was oure aller fader,
And Eve was of hymselve,
{343}
And the issue that thei hadde 11220
It was of hem bothe,
And either is otheres joie
In thre sondry persones,
And in hevene and here
Oon singuler name;
And thus is mankynde and manhede
Of matrimoyne y-spronge,
And bitokneth the Trinité
And trewe bileve.

"Mighty is matrimoyne, 11230
That multiplieth the erthe,
And bitokneth trewely,
Telle if I dorste,
Hym that first formed al,
The fader of hevene.

"The sone, if I it dorste seye,
Resembleth wel the widewe.
_Deus meus, Deus meus, ut quid dereliquisti me!_ =

"That is, creatour weex creature 11240
To knowe what was bothe.
As widewe withouten wedlok
Was nevere yit y-seighe;
Na-moore myghte God be man,
But if he moder hadde.
So widewe withouten wedlok
May noght wel stande,
Ne matrimoyne withouten muliere
Is noght muche to preise.
_Maledictus homo qui non reliquit 11250
semen in Israel! etc._

"Thus in thre persones
Is perfitliche manhede;
{344}
That is man and his make
And mulliere children.
And is noght but gendre of a generacion
Bifore Jhesu Crist in hevene;
So is the fader forth with the sone,
And fre wille of bothe.
_Spiritus procedens a patre et filio, etc._ =
Which is the Holy Goost of alle, 11262
And alle is but o God.

"Thus in a somer I hym seigh
As I sat in my porche.
I roos up and reverenced hym,
And right faire hym grette,
Thre men to my sighte
I made wel at ese,
Wessh her feet and wiped hem, 11270
And afterward thei eten
Calves flessh and cake-breed,
And knewe what I thoughte!
Ful trewe toknes bitwene us is,
To telle whan me liketh.

"First he fonded me
If I lovede bettre
Hym or Ysaak myn heir,
The which he highte me kulle.
He wiste my wille bi hym, 11280
He wol me it allowe;
I am ful siker in soule therof,
And my sone bothe.
I circumscised my sone
Sithen for his sake,
Myself and my meynee,
And alle that male weere,
{345}
Bledden blood for that Lordes love,
And hope to blisse the tyme.
Myn affiaunce and my feith 11290
Is ferme in his bileve;
For himself bihighte to me,
And to myn issue bothe,
Lond and lordshipe,
And lif withouten ende;
To me and to myn issue
Moore yet he grauntede,
Mercy for oure mys-dedes,
As many tyme as we asken.
_Quam olim Abrahæ promisisti et 11300
semini ejus._

"And siththe he sente me to seye
I sholde do sacrifise,
And doon hym worship with breed
And with wyn bothe;
And called me the foot of his feith,
His folk for to save,
And defende hem fro the fend,
Folk that on me leveden.

"Thus have I ben his heraud 11310
Here and in helle,
And conforted many a careful
That after his comynge waiteden.
And thus I seke hym," he seide,
"For I herde seyn late
Of a barn that baptysed hym,
Johan Baptist was his name,
That to patriarkes and to prophetes,
And to oother peple in derknesse,
Seide that he seigh here 11320
That sholde save us alle."
{346}
_Ecce agnus Dei! etc._

I hadde wonder of hise wordes,
And of hise wide clothes;
For in his bosom he bar a thyng
That he blissed evere.
And I loked in his lappe,
A lazar lay therinne
Amonges patriarkes and prophetes
Pleyinge togideres. 11330

"What awaitestow?" quod he,
"And what woldestow have?"

"I wolde wite," quod I tho,
"What is in youre lappe."

"Loo!" quod he; and leet me see.
"Lord, mercy!" I seide;
"This is a present of muche pris,
What prynce shal it have?"

"It is a precious present," quod he;
"Ac the pouke it hath attached, 11340
And me thermyde," quod that man,
"May no wed us quyte,
Ne no buyrn be oure borgh,
Ne brynge us fram his daunger;
Out of the poukes pondfold
No maynprise may us feeche,
Til he come that I carpe of,
Crist is his name.
That shal delivere us som day
Out of the develes power, 11350
And bettre wed for us legge
Than we ben alle worthi,
That is lif for lif,
Or ligge thus evere
Lollynge in my lappe,
{347}
Til swich a lord us fecche."

"Allas!" I seide, "that synne
So longe shal lette
The myght of Goddes mercy,
That myghte us alle amende." 11360
I wepte for hise wordes.
With that saugh I another
Rapeliche renne forth,
The righte wey he wente.
I affrayned hym first
Fram whennes he come,
And what he highte, and whider he wolde;
And wightly he tolde. 11368

* * * * *

{348}

_Passus Decimus Septimus, etc. et Secundus de Do-bet._

"Iam _Spes_," quod he, "aspie 11369
And spire after a knyght,
That took me a maundement
Upon the mount of Synay,
To rule alle reames with,
I bere the writ here."

"Is it enseled?" I seide,
"May men see thi lettres?"

"Nay," he seide, "seke hym
That hath the seel to kepe;
And that is cros and cristendom,
And Crist theron to honge. 11380
And whan it is enseled so,
I woot wel the sothe,
That Luciferis lordshipe
Laste shal no lenger."

"Lat se thi lettres," quod I,
"We myghte the lawe knowe."

Thanne plukkede he forth a patente,
A pece of an hard roche,
Wheron were writen two wordes
On this wise y-glosed. 11390
_Dilige Deum et proximum tuum._

This was the tixte trewely,
{349}
I took ful good yeme;
The glose was gloriously writen,
With a gilt penne.
_In his duobus mandatis tota lex
pendet et prophetia._

"Ben here alle thi lordes lawes?" quod I.
"Ye, leve me wel," he seide;
And who so wercheth after this writ, 11400
I wol undertaken
Shal nevere devel hym dere,
Ne deeth in soule greve.
For, though I seye it myself,
I have saved with this charme,
Of men and of wommen
Many score thousand.

"Ye seien sooth," seide this heraud;
"I have y-founde it ofte.
Lo! here in my lappe 11410
That leeved on that charme,
Josue and Judith,
And Judas Macabeus,
Ye, and sixti thousand biside forth,
That ben noght seyen here."

"Youre wordes arn wonderfulle," quod I tho,
"Which of yow is trewest,
And lelest to leve so,
For lif, and for soule?
Abraham seith 11420
That he seigh hoolly the Trinité,
Thre persones in parcelles
Departable fro oother,
And alle thre but o god;
{350}
Thus Abraham me taughte,
And hath saved that bileved so,
And sory for hir synnes.
He kan noght siggen the somme,
And some arn in his lappe.
What neded it thanne 11430
A newe lawe to bigynne,
Sith the firste suffiseth
To savacion and to blisse?
And now cometh _Spes_ and speketh,
That aspied the lawe;
And telleth noght of the Trinité
That took hym hise lettres,
To bileeve and lovye
In o lord almyghty,
And siththe right as myself 11440
So lovye alle peple.

"The gome that gooth with o staf,
He semeth in gretter heele
Than he that gooth with two staves,
To sighte of us alle.

"And right so, bi the roode!
Reson me sheweth
That it is lighter to lewed men
O lesson to knowe,
Than for to techen hem two, 11450
And to hard to lerne to the leeste
It is ful hard for any man
On Abraham bileve;
And wel awey worse yit
For to love a sherewe.
It is lighter to leeve
In thre lovely persones,
Than for to lovye and leve
{351}
As wel lorels as lele."

"Go thi gate!" quod I to _Spes_, 11460
"So me God helpe!
Tho that lernen thi lawe,
Wol litel while usen it."
And as we wenten thus in the wey
Wordynge togideres,
Thanne seighe we a Samaritan
Sittynge on a mule,
Ridynge ful rapely
The righte wey we yeden,
Comynge from a contree 11470
That men called Jerico,
To a justes in Jerusalem
He chaced awey faste.
Bothe the heraud and Hope
And he mette at ones
Where a man was wounded,
And with theves taken;
He myghte neither steppe ne stande,
Ne stere foot ne handes,
Ne helpe hymself soothly, 11480
For semy-vif he semed,
And as naked as a nedle,
And noon help aboute hym.

Feith hadde first sighte of hym;
Ac he fleigh aside,
And nolde noght neghen hym
By nyne londes lengthe.

Hope cam hippynge after,
That hadde so y-bosted
How he with Moyses maundement 11490
Hadde many men y-holpe;
Ac whan he hadde sighte of that segge
{352}
Aside he gan hym drawe
Dredfully bi this day,
As doke dooth fram the faucon.

Ac so soone so the Samaritan
Hadde sighte of this leode,
He lighte a-down of lyard,
And ladde hym in his hande,
And to the wye he wente 11500
Hise woundes to biholde;
And perceyved bi his pous
He was in peril to dye,
And but he hadde recoverer the rapelier,
That rise sholde he nevere.
With wyn and with oille
Hise woundes he wasshed,
Enbawmed hym and bond his heed,
And in his lappe hym leide,
And ladde hym so forth on lyard 11510
Te _lex Christi_, a graunge
Wel sixe mile or sevene
Biside the newe market;
Herberwed hym at an hostrie,
And to the hostiler called,
And seide, "Have kepe this man
Til I come fro the justes;
And lo! here silver," he seide,
"For salve to hise woundes."
And he took hym two pens, 11520
To liflod, as it weere;
And seide, "What he spendeth moore,
I make thee good herafter;
For I may noght lette," quod that leode;
And lyard he bistrideth,
And raped hym to Jerusalem-ward
{353}
The righte wey to ryde.

Feith folwede after faste,
And fondede to mete hym;
And _Spes_ spakliche hym spedde, 11530
Spede if he myghte
To overtaken hym and talke to hym,
Er thei to towne coome.

And whan I seigh this, I sojourned noght,
But shoop me to renne,
And suwed that Samaritan
That was so ful of pité,
And graunted hym to ben his groom.
"Graunt mercy!" he seide;
"Ac thi frend and thi felawe," quod he, 11540
"Thow fyndest me at nede."

And I thanked hym tho,
And siththe I hym tolde
How that Feith fleigh awey,
And _Spes_ his felawe bothe,
For sighte of that sorweful man
That robbed was with theves.

"Have hem excused," quod he,
"Hir help may litel availle;
May no medicyne on molde 11550
The man to heele brynge,
Neither feith ne fyn hope,
So festred be hise woundes,
Withouten the blood of a barn
Born of a mayde.
And he be bathed in that blood,
Baptised as it were,
And thanne plastred with penaunce
And passion of that baby,
{354}
He sholde stonde and steppe. 11560
Ac stalworthe worth he nevere.
Til he have eten al the barn,
And his blood y-dronke.
For wente nevere wye in this world
Thorugh that wildernesse,
That he ne was robbed or rifled,
Rood he there or yede,
Save Feith and his felawe,
_Spes_, and myselve,
And thiself now, 11570
And swiche as suwen oure werkes.

"For outlawes in the wode
And under bank lotieth,
And mowen ech man see,
And good mark take
Who is bihynde and who bifore,
And who ben on horse
For he halt hym hardier on horse
Than he that is foote.
For he seigh me that am Samaritan 11580
Suwen Feith and his felawe
On my capul that highte _caro_,
Of mankynde I took it;
He was unhardy that harlot,
And hidde hym _in Inferno_.
Ac er this day thre daies,
I dar undertaken,
That he worth fettred, that feloun,
Faste with cheynes,
And nevere eft greve gome 11590
That gooth this ilke gate.

"And thanne shal Feith be forster here,
{355}
And in this fryth walke,
And kennen out comune men
That knowen noght the contree
Which is the wey that I wente,
And wher forth to Jerusalem.
And Hope the hostilers man shal be,
Ther the man lith an helyng;
And alle that feble and feynte be, 11600
That Feith may noght teche,
Hope shal lede hem forth with love,
As his lettre telleth,
And hostele hem and heele
Thorugh holy chirche bileve,
Til I have salve for alle sike;
And thanne shal I turne,
And come ayein bi this contree,
And conforten alle sike
That craveth it and coveiteth it, 11610
Or crieth therafter.
For the barn was born in Bethleem,
That with his blood shal save
Alle that lyven in feith
And folwen his felawes techynge."

"A! swete sire," I seide tho,
"Wher I shal bileve,
As Feith and his felawe
Enformed me bothe,
In thre persones departable, 11620
That perpetuele were evere,
And alle thre but o God,
Thus Abraham me taughte.

"And Hope afterward
He bad me to lovye
O God with al my good,
{356}
And alle gomes after,
Lovye hem lik myselve,
Ac oure Lord aboven alle.

"After Abraham," quod he, 11630
"That heraud of armes,
Sette fully thi feith
And ferme bileve;
And as Hope highte thee,
I hote that thow lovye
Thyn evene cristene evere moore
Evene forth with thiselve.
And if Conscience carpe ther ayein,
Or kynde wit eyther,
Or eretikes with argumentz 11640
Thyn hond thow hem shewe;
For God is after an hand,
Y-heer now and knowe it.

"The fader was first as a fust,
With o fynger foldynge;
Til hym lovede and liste
To unlosen his fynger,
And profre it forth as with a pawme
To what place it sholde,

"The pawme is purely the hand, 11650
And profreth forth the fyngres,
To ministren and to make
That myght of hand knoweth;
And bitokneth trewely,
Telle who so liketh,
The Holy Goost of hevene
He is as the pawme.

"The fyngres that fre ben
To folde and to serve,
Bitoknen soothly the Sone 11660
{357}
That sent was til erthe,
That touched and tastede
At techynge of the pawme
Seinte Marie a mayde,
And mankynde laughte.
_Qui conceptus est de Spiritu sancto, etc._ =

"The Fader is pawme as a fust,
With fynger to touche,--
_Quia omnia traham ad meipsum, etc._ =
Al that the pawme perceyveth 11672
Profitable to feele.

"Thus are thei alle but oon,
As it an hand weere,
And thre sondry sightes
In oon shewynge,
The pawme for it putteth forth fyngres,
And the fust bothe;
Right so redily, 11680
Reson it sheweth
How he that is Holy Goost
Sire and Son preveth.

"And as the hand halt harde,
And alle thyng faste,
Thorugh foure fyngres and a thombe
Forth with the pawme;
Right so the Fader and the Sone,
And Seint Spirit the thridde,
Al the wide world 11690
Withinne hem thre holden,
Bothe wolkne and the wynd,
Water and erthe,
Hevene and helle,
{358}
And al that is therinne.

"Thus it is, nedeth no man
Trowe noon oother,
That thre thynges bilongeth
In oure Lord of Hevene;
And aren serelopes by hemself, 11700
A-sondry were thei nevere,
Na-moore than myn hand may
Meve withoute my fyngres.

"And as my fust is ful hand
Y-holden togideres;
So is the Fader a ful God,
Formour and shappere.
_Tu fabricator omnium, etc._
And al the myght myd hym is
In makynge of thynges. 11710
The fyngres formen a ful hand
To portreye or peynten,
Kervynge and compasynge,
As craft of the fyngres.

"Right so is the Sone
The science of the Fader,
And ful God as is the Fader,
No febler ne no bettre.

"The pawme is pureliche the hand,
And hath power by hymselve, 11720
Other wise than the writhen fust,
Or werkmanshipe of fyngres.
For he hath power
To putte out alle the joyntes,
And to unfolde the folden fust,
At the fyngres wille.

"So is the Holy Goost God,
Neither gretter ne lasse.
{359}
Than is the Sire and the Sone,
And in the same myghte. 11730
And alle are thei but o God;
As is myn hand and my fyngres,
Unfolden or folden,
My fust and my pawne,
Al is but an hand;
Evene in the myddes,
He may receyve right noght,
Reson it sheweth,
For the fyngres that folde sholde
And the fust make, 11740
For peyne of the pawme,
Power hem failleth
To clucche or to clawe,
To clippe or to holde.

"Were the myddel of myn hand
Y-maymed or y-perissed,
I sholde receyve right noght
Of that I reche myghte.

"Ac though my thombe and my fyngres
Bothe were to-shullen, 11750
And the myddel of myn hand
Withoute _male-ese_,
In many kynnes maneres
I myghte myself helpe,
Bothe mene and amende,
Though alle my fyngres oke.

"By this skile, me thynketh,
I se an evidence
That who so synneth in the Seint Spirit,
Assoilled worth he nevere, 11760
Neither here ne ellis where,
As I herde telle.
{360}
_Qui peccat in Spiritu sancto, etc._
For he priketh God as in the pawme,
That _peccat in Spiritu sancto_.
For God the fader is as a fust,
The Sone is as a fynger,
The Holy Goost of hevene
Is as it were the pawme;
So who so synneth in the Seint Spirit, 11770
It semeth that he greveth
God, that he grypeth with,
And wolde his grace quenche.

"And to a torche or a tapur
The Trinité is likned;
As wex and a weke
Were twyned togideres,
And thanne a fir flawmynge
Forth out of bothe;
And as wex and weke 11780
And hoot fir togideres
Fostren forth a flawmbe
And a fair leye,
So dooth the Sire and the Sone
And also _Spiritus sanctus_,
That alle kynne cristene
Clenseth of synnes
And as thow seest som tyme
Sodeynliche a torche,
The blase therof y-blowe out, 11790
Yet brenneth the weke
Withouten leye or light
That the macche brenneth;
So is the Holy Goost God,
And grace withoute mercy
To alle unkynde creatures,
{361}
That coveite to destruye
Lele love or lif
That oure Lord shapte.

"And as glowynge gledes 11800
Gladeth noght thise werkmen,
That werchen and waken
In wyntres nyghtes,
As dooth a kex or a candle
That caught hath fir and blaseth;
Na-moore dooth Sire ne Sone
Ne Seint Spirit togidres
Graunte no grace
Ne forgifnesse of synnes,
Til the Holy Goost gynne 11810
To glowe and to blase.
So that the Holy Goost
Gloweth but as a glade,
Til that lele love
Ligge on hym and blowe,
And thanne flawmeth he as fir
On Fader and on _Filius_,
And melteth hire myght into mercy;
As men may se in wyntre
Ysekeles and evesynges 11820
Thorugh hete of the sonne
Melte in a minut while
To myst and to watre.

"So grace of the Holy Goost
The greet myght of the Trinité
Melteth to mercy,
To merciable and to othere;
And as wex withouten moore
On a warm glede
Wol brennen and blasen, 11830
{362}
Be thei togideres,
And solacen hem that mowe se,
That sitten in derknesse.

"So wol the Fader forgyve
Folk of mylde hertes,
That rufully repenten,
And restitucion make,
In as muche as thei mowen
Amenden and paien;
And if it suffise noght for assetz, 11840
That in swich a wille deyeth,
Mercy for his mekenesse
Wol maken good the remenaunt.
And as the weke and fir
Wol maken a warm flaumbe,
For to murthen men myd
That in the derke sitten;
So wole Crist of his curteisie,
And men crye hym mercy,
Bothe forgyve and foryete, 11850
And yit bidde for us
To the Fader of hevene
Forgifnesse to have.

"Ac hewe fir at a flynt
Foure hundred wynter,
But thow have tow to take it with,
Tonder or broches,
Al thi labour is lost,
And al thi long travaille;
For may no fir flaumbe make, 11860
Faille it is kynde.

"So is the Holi Goost God,
And grace withouten mercy
To alle unkynde creatures,
{363}
Crist hymself witnesseth.
_Amen dico vobis, nescio vos, etc._

"Be unkynde to thyn evene cristene,
And al that thow kanst bidde,
Delen and do penaunce
Day and nyght evere, 11870
And purchace al the pardon
Of Pampilon and Rome,
And indulgences y-nowe,
And be _ingratus_ to thi kynde,
The Holy Goost hereth thee noght,
Ne helpe may thee by reson;
For unkyndenesse quencheth hym,
That he kan noght shyne,
Ne brenne ne blase clere
For blowynge of unkyndenesse. 11880
Poul the apostel
Preveth wheither I lye.
_Si linguis hominum loquar, etc._

"For-thi beth war, ye wise men,
That with the world deleth,
That riche ben and reson knoweth,
Ruleth wel youre soule,
Beth noght unkynde, I conseille yow,
To youre evene cristene,
For manye of yow riche men, 11890
By my soule! men telleth,
Ye brenne, but ye blase noght,
That is a blynd bekene.
_Non omnis qui dicit Domine! Domine!
intrabit, etc._

"Dives deyde dampned,
For his unkyndenesse
{364}
Of his mete and of his moneie
To men that it nedede.
Ech a riche I rede 11900
Reward at hym take,
And gyveth youre good to that God
That grace of ariseth;
For thei that ben unkynde to hise,
Hope I noon oother,
But thei dwelle ther Dives is
Dayes withouten ende.

"Thus is unkyndenesse the contrarie,
That quencheth, as it were,
The grace of the Holy Goost, 11910
Goddes owene kynde.
For that kynde dooth, unkynde for-dooth;
As thise corsede theves
Unkynde cristene men,
For coveitise and envye,
Sleeth a man for hise moebles
With mouth or with handes.
For that the Holy Goost hath to kepe,
The harlotes destruyeth,
The which is lif and love, 11920
The leye of mannes body.
For every manere good man
May be likned to a torche,
Or ellis to a tapur,
To reverence the Trinité;
And who morthereth a good man,
Me thynketh by myn inwit,
He for-dooth the levest light
That oure Lord lovyeth.

"And yet in manye mo maneres 11930
Men offenden the Holy Goost.
Ac this is the worste wise
{365}
That any wight myghte
Synnen ayein the Seint Spirit,
Assenten to destruye
For coveitise of any kynnes thyng
That Crist deere boughte,
That wikkedliche and wilfulliche
Wolde mercy aniente.

"Innocence is next God, 11940
And nyght and day it crieth,
'Vengeaunce! vengeaunce!
Forgyve be it nevere
That shente us and shedde oure blood,
For-shapte us, as it were!'
_Vindica sanguinem justorum._

"Thus 'Vengeaunce! vengeaunce!'
Verrey Charité asketh.
And sith holy chirche and Charité
Chargeth this so soore, 11950
Leve I nevere that oure Lord
Wol love that charité lakketh,
Ne have pité for any preiere
Ther that he pleyneth."

"I pose I hadde synned so,
And sholde now deye;
And now I am sory that I so
The Seint Spirit a-gulte,
Confesse me and crye his grace,
God that al made, 11960
And myldeliche his mercy aske,
Myghte I noght be saved?"

"Yis," seide the Samaritan,
"So wel thow myght repente,
That rightwisnesse thorugh repentaunce,
To ruthe myghte turne.
Ac it is but selden y-seighe
{366}
Ther soothnesse bereth witnesse,
Any creature that is coupable
Afore a kynges justice, 11970
Be raunsoned for his repentaunce,
Ther alle reson hym dampneth.
For ther that partie pursueth,
The peple is so huge,
That the kyng may do no mercy
Til bothe men acorde,
And eyther have equité,
As holy writ telleth.
_Nunquam dimittitur peccatum, etc._

"Thus it fareth by swich folk 11980
That falsly al hire lyves
Yvele lyven, and leten noght
Til lif hem forsake.
Good hope, that helpe sholde,
To wanhope torneth,
Noght of the noun power of God,
That he ne is myghtful
To amende al that amys is,
And his mercy gretter
Than alle oure wikkede werkes, 11990
As holy writ telleth.
_Misericordia ejus super omnia opera ejus._ =
Ac er his rightwisnesse to ruthe torne,
Som restitucion bihoveth.
His sorwe is satisfaccion,
For hym that may noght paie.

"Thre thynges ther ben
That doon a man by strengthe
For to fleen his owene, 12000
As holy writ sheweth.

"That oon is a wikkede wif,
{367}
That wol noght be chastised;
Hir feere fleeth fro hire,
For feere of hir tonge.

"And if his hous be un-hiled,
And reyne on his bedde,
He seketh and seketh
Til he slepe drye.

"And whan smoke and smolder 12010
Smyt in his sighte,
It dooth hym worse than his wif
Or wete to slepe.
For smoke and smolder
Smyteth in hise eighen,
Til he be bler-eighed, or blynd,
And hoors in the throte,
Cogheth, and curseth
That Crist gyve hem sorwe
That sholde brynge in bettre wode, 12020
Or blowe it til it brende.

"Thise thre that I telle of
Ben thus to understonde;
The wif is oure wikked flessh,
That wol noght be chastised;
For kynde clyveth on hym evere
To contrarie the soule.
And though it falle, it fynt skiles
That freleté it made,
And that is lightly forgyven 12030
And forgeten bothe,
To man that mercy asketh,
And amende thenketh.

"The reyn that reyneth
Ther we reste sholde,
Ben siknesse and sorwes
That we suffren ofte;
{368}
As Poul the apostle
To the people taughte.
_Virtus infirmitate perficitur, etc._ 12040

"And though that men make
Muche doel in hir angre,
And ben inpacient in hir penaunce,
Pure reson knoweth
That thei han cause to contrarie
By kynde of hir siknesse;
And lightliche oure Lord
At hir lyves ende
Hath mercy on swiche men,
That so yvele may suffre. 12050

"Ac the smoke and the smolder
That smyt in oure eighen,
That is coveitise and unkyndenesse,
That quencheth Goddes mercy.
For unkyndenesse is the contrarie
Of alle kynnes reson.
For ther nys sik ne sory,
Ne noon so muche wrecche,
That he ne may lovye, and hym like,
And lene of his herte 12060
Good wille and good word,
And wisshen and willen
Alle manere men
Mercy and forgifnesse,
And lovye hem lik hymself,
And his lif amende.

"I may no lenger lette," quod he;
And lyard he prikede,
And went awey as wynd;
And therwith I awakede. 12070

* * * * *

{369}

_Passus Decimus Octavus, etc. et Tertius de Do-bet._

Wolleward and weet-shoed =
Wente I forth after, 12073
As a recchelees renk
That of no wo roughte,
And yede forth lik a lorel
Al my lif tyme,
Til I weex wery of the world,
And wilned eft to slepe,
And lened me to a lenten, 12080
And longe tyme I slepte;
And of Cristes passion and penaunce,
The peple that of raughte,
Reste me there, and rutte faste
Til _ramis palmarum_.
Of gerlis and of _gloria laus_
Gretly me dremed,
And how _hosanna_ by organye
Olde folk songen.

Oon semblable to the Samaritan, 12090
And som deel to Piers the Plowman,
Bare-foot on an asse bak
Boot-les cam prikye,
{370}
Withouten spores other spere,
Spakliche he lokede,
As is the kynde of a knyght
That cometh to be dubbed,
To geten hym gilte spores,
Or galoches y-couped.

Thanne was Feith in a fenestre, 12100
And cryde a _fili David_,
As dooth an heraud of armes,
Whan aventrous cometh to justes.
Old Jewes of Jerusalem
For joye thei songen,
_Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini._ =

Thanne I frayned at Feith,
What al that fare by-mente,
And who sholde juste in Jerusalem. 12110
"Jhesus," he seide,
"And fecche that the fend claymeth,
Piers fruyt the Plowman."

"Is Piers in this place?" quod I.
And he preynte on me:
"This Jhesus of his gentries
Wol juste in Piers armes,
In his helm and in his haubergeon,
_Humana natura_;
That Crist be noght bi-knowe here 12120
For _consummatus Deus_.
In Piers paltok the Plowman
This prikiere shal ryde.
For no dynt shal hym dere,
As _in deitate Patris_."

"Who shal juste with Jhesus?" quod I,
{371}
"Jewes or scrybes?"

"Nay," quod he; "The foule fend,
And fals doom and deeth.
Deeth seith he shal for-do 12130
And a-doun brynge
Al that lyveth and loketh
In londe and in watre.

"Lif seith that he lieth,
And leieth his lif to wedde,
That for al that deeth kan do
Withinne thre daies
To walke and fecche fro the fend
Piers fruyt the Plowman,
And legge it ther hym liketh, 12140
And Lucifer bynde,
And for-bete and a-doun brynge
Bale deeth for evere."
_O mors, ero mors tua._

Thanne cam Pilatus with muche peple,
_Sedens pro tribunali_,
To se how doghtiliche Deeth sholde do,
And deme hir botheres right.

The Jewes and the justice
Ayeins Jhesu thei weere, 12150
And al the court on hym cryde
_Crucifige_ sharpe.
Tho putte hym forth a pilour
Bifore Pilat, and seide,
"This Jhesus of oure Jewes temple
Hath japed and despised,
To for-doon it on o day,
And in thre dayes after
Edifie it eft newe;
{372}
Here he stant that seide it; 12160
And yit maken it as muche
In alle manere poyntes,
Bothe as long and as large,
Bi lofte and by grounde."

"_Crucifige!_" quod a cachepol;
"I warrante hym a wicche."

"_Tolle! tolle!_" quod another,
And took of kene thornes,
And bigan of kene thorn
A garland to make, 12170
And sette it sore on his heed,
And seide in envye,
"Ave, Raby," quod that rybaud,
And threw reedes at hym,
Nailed hym with thre nailes
Naked on the roode,
And poison on a poole
Thei putte up to hise lippes,
And beden hym drynken his deeth yvel,
Hise daies were y-done, 12180
"And if that thow sotil be,
Help now thiselve;
If thow be Crist and kynges sone,
Com down of the roode;
Thanne shul we leve that lif thee loveth,
And wol noght lete thee deye."

"_Consummatum est_," quod Crist,
And comsede for to swoune
Pitousliche and pale,
As a prison that deieth. 12190
The lord of lif and of light
Tho leide hise eighen togideres.
{373}
The day for drede withdrough,
And derk bicam the sonne;
The wal waggede and cleef,
And al the world quaved;
Dede men for that dene
Come out of depe graves,
And tolde why that tempeste
So longe tyme durede; 12200
"For a bitter bataille,"
The dede body seide,
"Lif and deeth in this derknesse
Hir oon for-dooth hir oother.
Shal no wight wite witterly
Who shal have the maistrie
Er Sonday aboute sonne risyng;"
And sank with that til erthe.

Some seide that he was Goddes sone
That so faire deide. 12210
_Vere filius Dei erat iste._
And some seide he was a wicche,
"Good is that we assaye
Wher he be deed or noght deed,
Doun er he be taken."

Two theves also
Tholed deeth that tyme,
Upon a croos besides Crist,
So was the comune lawe.
A cachepol cam forth 12220
And craked bothe hire legges,
And the armes after
Of either of tho theves.
Ac was no body so boold
Goddes body to touche;
For he was knyght and kynges sone,
{374}
Kynde for-yaf that tyme,
That noon harlot were so hardy
To leyen hond upon hym.

Ac ther cam forth a knyght, 12230
With a kene spere y-grounde,
Highte Longeus, as the lettre telleth,
And longe hadde lore his sighte.
Bifore Pilat and oother peple
In the place he hoved;
Maugree his manye teeth,
He was maad that tyme
To take the spere in his hond,
And justen with Jhesus.
For alle thei were unhardy, 12240
That hoved on horse or stode,
To touchen hym or to tasten hym,
Or taken doun of roode.
But this blynde bacheler
Baar hym thorugh the herte;
The blood sprong doun by the spere,
And unspered the knyghtes eighen.

Thanne fil the knyght upon knees,
And cryde hym mercy;
"Ayein my wille it was, Lord, 12250
To wownde yow so soore."
He sighed and seide,
"Soore it me a-thynketh,
For the dede that I have doon
I do me in youre grace.
Have on me ruthe! rightful Jhesu!"
And right with that he wepte.

Thanne gan Feith felly
The false Jewes despise,
{375}
Callede hem caytyves 12260
Acorsed for evere;
"For this foule vileynye
Vengeaunce to yow falle!
To do the blynde bete hym y-bounde,
It was a boyes counseille.
Cursede caytif!
Knyghthood was it nevere
To mys-do a deed body
By daye or by nyghte.
The gree yit hath he geten, 12270
For al his grete wounde.

"For youre champion chivaler,
Chief knyght of yow alle,
Yilt hym recreaunt rennyng
Right at Jhesus wille.
For be this derknesse y-do,
His deeth worth avenged;
And ye, lurdaynes, han y-lost,
For lif shal have the maistrye;
And youre fraunchise, that fre was, 12280
Fallen is in thraldom,
And ye, cherles, and youre children
Cheve shulle nevere
To have lordshipe in londe,
Ne no lond tilye,
But al barayne be,
And usurie usen,
Which is lif that oure Lord
In alle lawes acurseth.
Now youre goode dayes arn doon, 12290
As Daniel prophecied,
Whan Crist cam, of hir kyngdom
The crowne sholde cesse."
{376}
_Cum veniat sanctus sanctorum, cessabit
unctio vestra._

What for feere of this ferly,
And of the false Jewes,
I drow me in that derknesse
To _descendit ad inferna_;
And there I saugh soothly 12300
_Secundum Scripturas_
Out of the west coste
A wenche, as me thoughte,
Cam walkynge in the wey,
To helle-ward she loked.
Mercy highte that mayde,
A meke thyng withalle,
A ful benigne burde,
And buxom of speche.

Hir suster, as it semed, 12310
Cam soothly walkynge.
Evene out of the est,
And west-ward she lokede,
A ful comely creature,
Truthe she highte,
For the vertue that hire folwede
A-fered was she nevere.

Whan thise maydenes mette,
Mercy and Truthe,
Either asked oother 12320
Of this grete wonder,
Of the dyn and of the derknesse,
And how the day rowed,
And which a light and a leme
Lay bifore helle.
"Ich have ferly of this fare,
In feith!" seide Truthe,
{377}
"And am wendynge to wite
What this wonder meneth."

"Have no merveille," quod Mercy, 12330
"Murth it bitokneth.
A maiden that highte Marie,
And moder withouten felyng
Of any kynnes creature,
Conceyved thorugh speche
And grace of the Holy Goost,
Weex greet with childe,
Withouten wem
Into this world she broghte hym;
And that my tale be trewe, 12340
I take God to witnesse.

"Sith this barn was y-bore
Ben .xxx.^{ti} wynter passed,
Which deide and deeth tholed
This day aboute myd-day,
And that is cause of this clips
That closeth now the sonne,
In menynge that man shal
Fro merknesse be drawe,
The while this light and this leme 12350
Shal Lucifer a-blende.
For patriarkes and prophetes
Han preched herof ofte:
That man shal man save
Thorugh a maydenes helpe;
And that was tynt thorugh tree,
Tree shal it wynne;
And that deeth a-down broughte,
Deeth shal releve."

"That thow tellest," quod Truthe, 12360
"Is but a tale of Waltrot.
{378}
For Adam and Eve,
And Abraham, with othere,
Patriarkes and prophetes,
That in peyne liggen,
Leve thow nevere that yon light
Hem a-lofte brynge,
Ne have hem out of helle.
Hold thi tonge, Mercy!
It is but a trufle that thow tellest; 12370
I, Truthe, woot the sothe.
For he that is ones in helle,
Out cometh he nevere.
Job the prophete patriark
Repreveth thi sawes."
_Quia in inferno nulla est redemptio._

Thanne Mercy ful myldely
Mouthed thise wordes,
"Thorugh experience," quod she,
"I hope thei shul be saved. 12380
For venym for-dooth venym;
And that preve I by reson.
For of alle venymes
Foulest is the scorpion,
May no medicyne helpe
The place ther he styngeth,
Til he be deed, and do therto,
The yvel he destruyeth,
The firste venymousté
Thorugh venym of hymselve. 12390

"So shal this deeth for-do,
I dar my lif legge,
Al that deeth for-dide first
Thorugh the develes entisyng;
And right as thorugh gile
{379}
Man was bi-giled,
So shal grace that bi-gan
Make a good sleighte."
_Ars ut artem falleret._

"Now suffre we," seide Truthe; 12400
"I se, as me thynketh,
Out of the nyppe of the north
Noght ful her hennes
Rightwisnesse come rennynge.
Reste we the while;
For he woot moore than we,
He was er we bothe."

"That is sooth," seide Mercy;
"And I se here by sowthe
Where Pees cometh pleyinge, 12410
In pacience y-clothed.
Love hath coveited hire longe,
Leve I noon oother,
But he sente hire som lettre,
What this light by-meneth
That over-hoveth helle thus,
She us shal telle."

When Pees in pacience y-clothed
Approched ner hem tweyne,
Rightwisnesse hire reverenced, 12420
By hir riche clothyng,
And preide Pees to telle hire
To what place she wolde,
And in hire gaye garnementz
Whom she grete thoughte.

"My wil is to wende," quod she,
"And welcome hem alle
That many day myghte I noght se
For merknesse of synne,
{380}
Adam and Eve, 12430
And othere mo in helle;
Moyses and many mo
Mercy shul have,
And I shal daunce therto,
Do thow so, suster,
For Jhesus justede wel,
Joy bigynneth dawe.
_Ad vesperum demorabitur fletus, et
ad matutinum lætitia._

"Love, that is my lemman, 12440
Swiche lettres me sente,
That Mercy, my suster, and I
Mankynde sholde save,
And that God hath for-gyven
And graunted me pees and mercy,
To be mannes meynpernour
For evere moore after.
Lo here the patente!" quod Pees,
"_In pace in idipsum._
And that this dede shal dure, 12450
_Dormiam et requiescam_."

"What! ravestow?" quod Rightwisnesse,
"Or thow art right dronke?
Levestow that yond light
Unlouke myghte helle,
And save mannes soule?
Suster, wene it nevere.
For God the bigynnere
Gaf the doom hymselve,
That Adam and Eve, 12460
And alle that hem suwede,
Sholden deye down righte,
{381}
And dwelle in pyne after,
If that thei touchede a tree,
And the fruyt eten.