The Vision and Creed of Piers Ploughman, Volume 1

Passus Octavus de Visione, et incipit Do-wel.

HUS y-robed in russet

"Where that Do-wel dwelleth

Dooth me to witene."

For thei be men of this moolde

That moost wide walken,

And knowen contrees and courtes,

And many kynnes places,

Bothe princes paleises

And povere mennes cotes,

And Do-wel and Do-yvele

Wher thei dwelle bothe.

"Amonges us," quod the Menours,

"That man is dwellynge,

And evere hath, as I hope,

And evere shal herafter."

"Contra," quod I as a clerc,

And comsed to disputen,

And seide hem soothly,

"Septies in die cadit justus.

Sevene sithes, seith the book,

Synneth the rightfulle;

And who so synneth," I seide,

"Dooth yvele, as me thynketh;

And Do-wel and Do-yvele

Mowe noght dwelle togideres.

Ergo he nys noght alwey

Amonges yow freres;

He is outher while ellis where

To wisse the peple."

"I shal seye thee, my sone,"

Seide the frere thanne,

"How seven sithes the sadde man

On a day synneth;

By a forbisne," quod the frere,

"I shal thee faire shewe.

Lat brynge a man in a boot

Amydde the brode watre,

The wynd and the water

And the boot waggyng

Maketh the man many a tyme

To falle and to stonde;

For stonde he never so stif,

He stumbleth if he meve,

Ac yet is he saaf and sound,

And so hym bihoveth.

For if he ne arise the rather,

And raughte to the steere,

The wynd wolde with the water

The boot over throwe;

And thanne were his lif lost,

Through lachesse of hymselve.

"And thus it falleth," quod the frere,

"By folk here on erthe;

The water is likned to the world

That wanyeth and wexeth;

The goodes of this grounde arn lik

To the grete wawes,

That as wyndes and wedres

Walketh aboute;

The boot is likned to oure body

That brotel is of kynde,

That thorugh the fend and the flesshe

And the frele worlde

Synneth the sadde man

A day seven sithes.

"Ac dedly synne doth he noght,

For Do-wel hym kepeth;

And that is charité the champion,

Chief help ayein synne;

For he strengheth men to stonde,

And steereth mannes soule,

And though the body bowe

As boot dooth in the watre,

Ay is thi soule saaf,

But if thow wole thiselve

Do a deedly synne,

And drenche so thi soule,

God wole suffre wel thi sleuthe,

If thiself liketh.

For he yaf thee a yeres-gyve,

To yeme wel thiselve,

And that is wit and free-wil,

To every wight a porcion,

To fleynge foweles,

To fisshes and to beestes;

Ac man hath moost therof,

And moost is to blame,

But if he werche wel therwith,

As Do-wel hym teacheth."

"I have no kynde knowyng," quod I,

"To conceyven alle youre wordes;

Ac if I may lyve and loke,

I shal go lerne bettre."

"I bikenne thee Crist," quod he,

"That on cros deyde!"

And I seide, "The same

Save yow fro myschaunce,

And gyve yow grace on this grounde

Goode men to worthe!"

ND thus I wente wide wher

And by a wodes side;

Blisse of the briddes

Broughte me a-slepe,

And under a lynde upon a launde

Lened I a stounde,

To lythe the layes

Tho lovely foweles made.

Murthe of hire mouthes

Made me ther to sleple;

The marveillouseste metels

Mette me thanne

That ever dremed wight

In world, as I wene.

A muche man, as me thoughte,

And lik to myselve,

Cam and called me

By my kynde name.

"What artow?" quod I tho,

"That thow my name knowest."

"That thou woost wel," quod he,

"And no wight bettre."

"Woot I what thow art?"

"Thought," seide he thanne;

"I have sued thee this seven yeer,

Seye thow me no rather."

"Artow Thought," quod I thoo,

"Thow koudest me wisse,

Where that Do-wel dwelleth,

And do me that to knowe."

"Do-wel and Do-bet,

And Do-best the thridde," quod he,

"Arn thre fair vertues,

And ben noght fer to fynde.

Who so is trewe of his tunge,

And of his two handes,

And thorugh his labour, or thorugh his land,

His liflode wynneth,

And is trusty of his tailende,

Taketh but his owene,

And his noght dronklewe ne dedeynous,

Do-wel hym folweth.

"Do-bet dooth right thus:

Ac he dooth muche moore;

He is as lowe as a lomb,

And lovelich of speche,

And helpeth alle men

After that hem nedeth.

The bagges and the bigirdles,

He hath to-broke hem alle,

That the erl Avarous

Heeld and hise heires.

And thus with Mammonaes moneie

He hath maad hym frendes,

And is ronne to religion,

And hath rendred the Bible,

And precheth to the peple

Seint Poules wordes:

Libenter suffertis insipientes, cum

sitis ipsi sapientes.

"And suffreth the unwise

With yow for to libbe;

And with glad wille dooth hem good,

For so God yow hoteth.

"Do-best is above bothe,

And bereth a bisshopes crosse,

Is hoked on that oon ende

To halie men fro helle;

A pik is on that potente,

To putte a-down the wikked

That waiten any wikkednesse

Do-wel to tene.

And Do-wel and Do-bet

Amonges hem han ordeyned,

To crowne oon to be kyng

To rulen hem bothe;

That if Do-wel or Do-bet

Dide ayein Do-best,

Thanne shal the kyng come

And casten hem in irens,

And but if Do-best bede for hem,

Thei to be ther for evere.

"Thus Do-wel and Do-bet,

And Do-best the thridde,

Crouned oon to the kyng

To kepen hem alle,

And to rule the reme

By hire thre wittes,

And noon oother wise

But as thei thre assented."

I thonked Thoght tho,

That he me thus taughte.

"Ac yet savoreth me noght thi seying;

I coveite to lerne

How Do-wel, Do-bet, and Do-best

Doon among the peple."

"But Wit konne wisse thee," quod Thoght,

"Wher tho thre dwelle,

Ellis woot I noon that kan

That now is alyve."

Thoght and I thus

Thre daies we yeden,

Disputyng upon Do-wel

Day after oother;

And ere we were war,

With Wit gonne we mete.

He was long and lene,

Lik to noon other;

Was no pride on his apparaille,

Ne poverte neither;

Sad of his semblaunt,

And of softe chere.

I dorste meve no matere

To maken hym to jangle,

But as I bad Thoght thoo

Be mene bitwene,

And pute forth som purpos

To preven hise wittes,

What was Do-wel fro Do-bet,

And Do-best from hem bothe.

Thanne Thoght in that tyme

Seide thise wordes:

"Where Do-wel, Do-bet,

And Do-best ben in londe,

Here is Wil wolde wite,

If Wit koude teche hym;

And wheither he be man or womman

This man fayn wolde aspie,

And werchen as thei thre wolde,

Thus is his entente."

Passus Nonus de Visione, ut supra, et Primus de Do-wel

IRE Do-wel dwelleth," quod Wit,

Of four kynnes thynges;

Of erthe and of eyr it is maad,

Medled togideres,

With wynd and with water

Witterly enjoyned.

Kynde hath closed therinne

Craftily withalle

A lemman that he loveth

Lik to hymselve;

Anima she hatte.

Ac envye hir hateth,

A proud prikere of Fraunce,

Princeps hujus mundi,

And wolde wynne hire awey

With wiles, and he myghte.

"Ac Kynde knoweth this wel,

And kepeth hire the bettre,

And dooth hire with sire Do-wel,

Is duc of thise marches.

"Do-bet is hire damyselle,

Sire Do-weles doughter,

To serven this lady leelly

Bothe late and rathe.

"Do-best is above bothe,

A bisshopes peere;

That he bit moot be do,

He ruleth hem alle.

Anima, that lady,

Is lad by his leryng.

Ac the constable of that castel,

That kepeth al the wacche,

Is a wis knyght withalle,

Sire Inwit he hatte,

And hathe fyve faire sones

Bi his firste wyve;

Sire Se-wel, and Sey-wel,

And Here-wel the hende,

Sire Werch-wel-with-thyn-hand,

A wight man of strengthe,

And sire Godefray Go-wel;

Grete lordes, for sothe.

Thise fyve ben set

To kepe this lady Anima,

Til Kynde come or sende

To saven hire for evere."

"What kynnes thyng is Kynde?" quod I,

"Kanstow me telle?"

"Kynde," quod Wit, "is a creatour

Of alle kynnes thynges,

Fader and formour

Of al that evere was maked;

And that is the grete God

That gynnyng hadde nevere,

Lord of lif and of light,

Of lisse and of peyne.

Aungeles and alle thyng

Arn at his wille;

Ac man is hym moost lik

Of marc and of shafte;

For thorugh the word that he spak

Woxen forth beestes.

Dixit et facta sunt.

"And made man likkest

To hymself one,

And Eve of his ryb-bon,

Withouten any mene,

For he was synguler hymself;

And seide faciamus,

As who seith moore moot herto

Than my word oone,

My myght moot helpe

Forth with my speche.

Right as a lord sholde make lettres,

And hym lakked parchemyn,

Though he koude write never so wel,

If he hadde no penne,

The lettre, for al the lordshipe,

I leve were nevere y-maked.

"And so it semeth by hym,

As the Bible telleth,

There he seide Dixit et facta sunt,

He moste werche with his word,

And his wit shewe.

And in this manere was man maad,

Thorugh myght of God almighty,

With his word and werkmanshipe,

And with lif to laste.

And thus God gaf hym a goost,

Thorugh the godhede of hevene,

And of his grete grace

Graunted hym blisse,

And that is lif that ay shal laste

To al his lynage after.

And that is the castel that Kynde made,

Caro it hatte,

And is as muche to mene

As man with a soule;

And that he wroghte with werk,

And with word bothe,

Thorgh myght of the magesté

Man was y-maked.

"Inwit and alle wittes

Closed ben therinne,

For love of the lady Anima,

That lif is y-nempned;

Over al in mannes body

He walketh and wandreth.

And in the herte is hir hoom

And hir mooste reste.

"Ac Inwit is in the heed,

And to the herte he loketh;

What Anima is leef or looth,

He lat hire at his wille;

For after the grace of God,

The gretteste is Inwit.

"Muche wo worth that man

That mys-ruleth his Inwit;

And that ben glotons glubberes,

Hir God is hire wombe.

Quorum deus venter est.

"For thei serven Sathan,

Hir soules shal he have.

That lyven synful lif here,

Hir soule is lich the devil;

And alle that lyven good lif

Are lik to God almyghty,

Qui manet in caritate, in Deo manet, etc.

"Alas! that drynke shal for-do

That God deere boughte,

And dooth God forsaken hem

That he shoop to his liknesse.

Amen dico vobis, nescio vos. Et alibi:

Et dimisi eos secundum desideria

eorum.

"Fools that fauten Inwit,

I fynde that holy chirche

Sholde fynden hem that hem fauted,

And fader-lese children,

And widewes that han noght wherwith

To wynnen hem hir foode,

Madde men, and maydenes

That help-lese were,

Alle thise lakken Inwit,

And loore bihoveth.

"Of this matere I myghte

Make a long tale,

And fynde fele witnesses

Among the foure doctours;

And that I lye noght of that I lere thee,

Luc bereth witnesse.

"God-fadres and god-modres,

That seen hire god-children

At mys-eise and at myschief,

And mowe hem amende,

Shul have penaunce in purgatorie

But thei hem helpe.

For moore bilongeth to the litel barn,

Er he the lawe knowe,

Than nempnynge of a name,

And he never the wiser.

Sholde no cristene creature

Cryen at the yate,

Ne faille payn ne potage,

And prelates dide as thei sholden.

A Jew wolde noght se a Jew

Go janglyng for defaute,

For alle the mebles on this moolde,

And he amende it myghte.

"Alas! that a cristene creature

Shal be unkynde til another;

Syn Jewes, that we jugge

Judas felawes,

Eyther of hem helpeth oother

Of that that hem nedeth.

Whi nel we cristene

Of Cristes good be as kynde

As Jewes, that ben oure lores-men?

Shame to us alle!

The commune for hir unkyndenesse,

I drede me, shul abye.

"Bisshopes shul be blamed

For beggeres sake.

He is wors than Judas,

That gyveth a japer silver,

And biddeth the beggere go,

For his broke clothes.

Proditor est prælatus cum Juda,

qui patrimonium Christi mimis

distribuit. Et alibi: Perniciosus

dispensator est, qui res

pauperum Christi inutiliter

consumit.

"He dooth noght wel that dooth thus,

Ne drat noght God almyghty;

He loveth noght Salomons sawes,

That sapience taughte.

Initium sapientiæ, timor Domini.

"That dredeth God, he dooth wel;

That dredeth him for love,

And noght for drede of vengeaunce,

Dooth therfore the bettre.

"He dooth best that with-draweth hym

By daye and by nyghte,

To spille any speche

Or any space of tyme.

Qui offendit in uno, in omnibus est reus.

"Lesynge of tyme,

Truthe woot the sothe,

Is moost y-hated upon erthe

Of hem that ben in hevene;

And siththe to spille speche,

That spicerie is of grace,

And Goddes gle-man,

And a game of hevene.

Wolde nevere the feithful fader

This fithele were un-tempred,

Ne his gle-man a gedelyng,

A goere to tavernes.

"To alle trewe tidy men

That travaille desiren,

Oure Lord loveth hem and lent

Loude outher stille

Grace to go to hem,

And of-gon hir liflode.

Inquirentes autem Dominum non

minuentur omni bono.

"Trewe wedded libbynge folk

In this world is Do-wel,

For thei mote werche and wynne,

And the world sustene.

For of hir kynde thei come

That confessours ben nempned,

Kynges and knyghtes,

Kaysers and cherles,

Maidenes and martires,

Out of o man come.

The wif was maad the weye

For to helpe werche;

And thus was wedlok y-wroght

With a mene persone,

First, by the fadres wille,

And the frendes conseille;

And sithenes by assent of hemself,

As thei two myghte acorde.

And thus was wedlok y-wroght,

And God hymself it made

In erthe and in hevene,

Hymself bereth witnesse.

"Ac fals folk feyth-lees,

Theves and lyeres,

Wastours and wrecches,

Out of wedlok, I trowe,

Conceyved ben in yvel tyme,

As Caym was on Eve;

Of swiche synfulle sherewes

The Sauter maketh mynde:

Concepit in dolore, et peperit iniquitatem, etc.

"And alle that come of that Caym,

Come to yvel ende.

And God sente to Seem,

And seide by an aungel,

'Thyn issue in thyn issue

I wol that thei be wedded,

And noght thi kynde with Caymes

Y-coupled nor y-spoused.'

"Yet some, ayein the sonde

Of oure Saveour of hevene,

Caymes kynde and his kynde

Coupled togideres,

Til God wrathed for hir werkes,

And swich a word seide,

'That I makede man

It me for-thynketh.'

Pœnitet me fecisse hominem.

"And com to Noe anon,

And bad hym noght lette:

'Swith go shape a ship

Of shides and of bordes;

Thyself and thi sones,

And sithen youre wyves,

Busketh yow to that boot,

And bideth ye therinne,

Til fourty daies be fulfild,

That the flood have y-wasshen

Clene awey the corsed blood

That Caym hath y-maked.

"'Beestes that now ben

Shul banne the tyme

That evere that cursed Caym

Coom on this erthe;

Alle shul deye for hise dedes,

By dales and by hulles,

And the foweles that fleen

Forth with othere beestes,

Excepte oonliche

Of ech kynde a couple,

That in thi shyngled ship

Shul ben y-saved.'

Here a-boughte the barn

The bel-sires giltes,

And alle for hir fadres

Thei ferden the werse;

The Gospel is her ayein,

In o degré, I fynde:

Filius non portabit iniquitatem patris,

et pater non portabit iniquitatem

filii, etc.

"Ac I fynde if the fader

Be fals and a sherewe,

That som del the sone

Shal have the sires tacches.

"Impe on an ellere,

And if thyn appul be swete,

Muchel merveille me thynketh;

And moore of a sherewe

That bryngeth forth any barn,

But if he be the same,

And have a savour after the sire;

Selde sestow oother.

Nunquam colligitur de spinis uva,

nec de tribulis ficus.

"And thus thorugh cursed Caym

Cam care upon erthe;

And al for thei wroghte wedlokes

Ayein Goddes wille.

For-thi have thei maugré of hir mariages

That marie so hir children.

For some, as I se now,

Sooth for to telle,

For coveitise of catel

Un-kyndely ben wedded;

As careful concepcion

Cometh of swiche mariages,

As bi-fel of the folk

That I bifore of tolde,

Therfore goode sholde wedde goode,

Though thei no good hadde;

'I am via et veritas,' seith Crist,

'I may avaunce yow alle.'

"It is an uncomly couple,

By Crist! as me thynketh,

To yeven a yong wenche

To an old feble,

Or wedden any wodewe

For welthe of hir goodes,

That nevere shal barn bere

But if it be in hir armes.

Many a peire, sithen the pestilence,

Han plight hem togideres,

The fruyt that brynge forth

Arn foule wordes,

In jelousie joye-lees,

And janglynge on bedde,

Have thei no children but cheeste,

And clappyng hem bitwene.

And though thei do hem to Dunmowe,

But if the devel helpe,

To folwen after the flicche,

Fecche thei it nevere;

And but thi bothe be for-swore,

That bacon thei tyne.

"For-thei I counseille alle cristene

Coveite noght be wedded

For coveitise of catel,

Ne of kyn-rede riche;

Ac maidenes and maydenes

Macche yow togideres,

Wodewes and wideweres

Wercheth the same;

For no londes, but for love,

Loke ye be wedded,

And thanne gete ye the grace of God,

And good y-nough to lyve with.

"And every maner seculer

That may noght continue,

Wisely goo wedde,

And ware hym fro synne;

For lecherie in likynge

Is lyme-yerd of helle.

Whiles thow art yong,

And thi wepene kene,

Wreke thee with wyvyng,

If thow wolt ben excused.

Dum sis vir fortis,

Ne des tua robora scortis;

Scribitur in portis,

Meretrix est janua mortis.

"Whan ye han wyved, beth war

And wercheth in tyme;

Noght as Adam and Eve,

Whan Caym was engendred.

For in un-tyme, trewely,

Bitwene man and womman,

Ne sholde no bourde or bedde be;

But if thei bothe were clene

Bothe of lif and of soule,

And in perfit charité,

That ilke derne dede do

No man ne sholde.

And if thei leden thus hir lif,

It liketh God almyghty;

For he made wedlok first,

And hymself it seide:

Bonum est ut unusquisque uxorem

suam habeat, propter

fornicationem.

"And thei that other gates ben geten

For gedelynges arn holden,

As fals folk fondlynges,

Faitours and lieres,

Ungracious to gete good

Or love of the peple,

Wandren and wasten

What thei cacche mowe,

Ayeins Do-wel thei doon yvel,

And the devel serve;

And after hir deeth day

Shul dwelle with the same,

But God gyve hem grace here

Hemself to amende.

"Do-wel my frend is,

To doon as lawe techeth;

To love thi frend and thi foo,

Leve me, that is Do-bet;

To gyven and to yemen

Bothe yonge and olde,

To helen and to helpen,

Is Do-best of alle.

"And Do-wel is to drede God,

And Do-bet to suffre,

And so cometh Do-best of bothe,

And bryngeth adoun the mody,

And that is wikked wille

That many a werk shendeth,

And dryveth awey Do-wel

Thorugh dedliche synnes."

Passus Decimus de Visione, et Secundus de Do-wel.

HANNE hadde Wit a wif,

Margery perles

Among hogges, that han

Hawes at wille;

Thei doon but dryvele theron,

Draf were hem levere

Than al the precious perree

That in paradis wexeth.

I seye it by swiche," quod she,

"That sheweth by hir werkes,

That hem were levere lond

And lordshipe on erthe,

Or richesse, or rentes,

And reste at hir wille,

Than alle the sooth sawes

That Salomon seide evere.

"Wisdom and wit now

Is noght worth a kerse,

But if it be carded with coveitise,

As clotheres kemben hir wolle.

Who so can contreve deceites

And conspire wronges,

And lede forth a love-day

To lette with truthe,

He that swiche craftes can

To counseil is cleped.

Thei lede lordes with lesynges,

And bi-lieth Truthe.

"Job the gentile

In his gestes witnesseth,

That wikked men thei welden

The welthe of this worlde;

And that thei ben lordes of ech a lond

That out of lawe libbeth.

Quare impii vivunt, bene est omnibus

qui prævaricantur et inique

agunt.

"The Sauter seith the same

By swiche that doon ille:

Ecce ipsi peccatores abundantes in

sæculo obtinuerunt divitias.

"Lo! seith holy lettrure,

Whiche beth thise sherewes?

Thilke that God gyveth moost,

Leest good thei deleth;

And moost un-kynde to the commune

That moost catel weldeth.

Quæ perfecisti destruxerunt, justus

autem, etc.

"Harlotes for hir harlotrie

May have of hir goodes,

And japeris and jogelours,

And jangleris of gestes.

"Ac he that hath holy writ

Ay in his mouthe,

And kan telle of Tobye,

And of twelve apostles,

Or prechen of the penaunce

That Pilat wikkedly wroghte

To Jhesu the gentile,

That Jewes to-drowe;

Litel is he loved

That swich a lesson sheweth,

Or daunted or drawe forth,

I do it on God hymselve.

"But thoo that feynen hem foolis,

And with faityng libbeth,

Ayein the lawe of oure Lord,

And lyen on hemselve,

Spitten and spuen,

And speke foule wordes,

Drynken and drevelen,

And do men fer to gape,

Likne men, and lye on hem,

That leneth hem no giftes;

Thei konne na-moore mynstralcie

Ne musik men to glade,

Than Munde the millere

Of Multa fecit Deus.

Ne were hir vile harlotrye,

Have God my trouthe!

Sholde nevere kyng ne knyght,

Ne chanon of seint Poules,

Gyve hem to hir yeres-gyve

The gifte of a grote.

"Ac murthe and mynstralcie

Amonges men is nouthe

Lecherie, losengerye,

And losels tales,

Glotonye and grete othes,

This murthe thei lovyeth.

"Ac if thei carpen of Crist,

Thise clerkes and thise lewed

At mete in hir murthe,

Whan mynstrals beth stille,

Thanne telleth thei of the Trinité

A tale outher tweye,

And bryngen forth a balled reson,

And taken Bernard to witnesse,

And putten forth a presumpcion

To preve the sothe.

Thus thei dryvele at hir deys

The Deitee to knowe,

And gnawen God with the gorge,

Whanne hir guttes fullen.

"Ac the carefulle may crie

And carpen at the yate,

Bothe a-fyngred and a-furst,

And for chele quake;

Is ther noon to nyme hym neer,

His anoy to amende,

But hunten hym as an hound,

And hoten hym go thennes.

Litel loveth he that Lord

That lent hym al that blisse,

That thus parteth with the povere

A percell whan hym nedeth.

Ne were mercy in meene men

Moore than in riche,

Mendinauntz mete-lees

Myghte go to bedde.

God is muche in the gorge

Of thise grete maistres,

Ac amonges meene men

His mercy and hise werkes.

And so seith the Sauter,

I have seighen it ofte:

Ecce audivimus eam in Effrata, invenimus

eam in campis silvæ.

"Clerkes and othere kynnes men

Carpen of God faste,

And have hym muche in the mouth;

Ac meene men in herte.

"Freres and faitours

Han founde swiche questions,

To plese with proude men,

Syn the pestilence tyme;

And prechen at seint Poules

For pure envye of clerkes;

That folk is noght fermed in the feith,

Ne free of hire goodes,

Ne sory for hire synnes;

So is pride woxen,

In religion and in al the reme,

Amonges riche and povere,

That preieres have no power

The pestilence to lette.

And yet the wrecches of this world

Is noon y-war by oother;

Ne for drede of the deeth

With-drawe noght hir pride;

Ne beth plentevouse to the povere,

As pure charité wolde;

But in gaynesse and in glotonye

For-glutten hir good hemselve,

And breketh noght to the beggere

As the Book techeth:

Frange esurienti panem tuum, etc.

And the moore he wynneth and welt

Welthes and richesse,

And lordeth in londes,

The lasse good he deleth.

"Tobye telleth yow noght so,

Taketh hede, ye riche,

How the book Bible

Of hym bereth witnesse.

Si tibi sit copia, abundanter tribue.

Si autem exiguum, illud impertiri

stude libenter.

"Who so hath muche, spende manliche,

So seith Tobye;

And who so litel weldeth,

Rule hym therafter.

For we have no lettre of oure lif,

How longe it shal dure,

Swiche lessons lordes sholde

Lovye to here,

And how he myghte moost meynee

Manliche fynde.

"Nought to fare as a fithelere or a frere,

For to seke festes

Homliche at othere mennes houses,

And hatien hir owene.

Elenge is the halle

Ech day in the wike,

Ther the lord ne the lady

Liketh noght to sitte.

Now hath ech riche a rule

To eten by hymselve

In a pryvee parlour,

For povere mennes sake,

Or in a chambre with a chymenee,

And leve the chief halle

That was maad for meles,

Men to eten inne,

And al to spare to spende

That spille shal another.

"I have y-herd heighe men,

Etynge at the table,

Carpen, as thei clerkes were,

Of Crist, and of hise myghtes;

And leyden fautes upon the fader

That formede us alle,

And carpen ayein clerkes

Crabbede wordes,

Why wolde oure Saveour suffre

Swich a worm in his blisse,

That bigiled the womman,

And the man after,

Thorugh whiche wiles and wordes

Thei wente to helle,

And al hir seed for hir synne

The same deeth suffrede.

"Here lyeth youre lore,

Thise lordes gynneth dispute,

Of that the clerkes us kenneth

Of Crist by the Gospel:

Filius non portabit iniquitatem patris,

etc.

"Why sholde we that now ben,

For the werkes of Adam,

Roten and to-rende?

Reson wolde it nevere.

Unusquisque portabit onus suum, etc.

"Swiche motyves thei mene,

Thise maistres in hir glorie,

And maken men in mys-bileve

That muse muche on hire wordes,

Ymaginatif herafterwarde

Shal answere to hir purpos.

"Austyn to swiche argueres

Telleth this teme:

Non plus sapere quam oportet.

"Wilneth nevere to wite

Why that God wolde

Suffre Sathan

His seed to bigile;

Ac bileveth lelly

In the loore of holy chirche,

And preie hym of pardon

And penaunce in thi lyve,

And for his muche mercy

To amende yow here.

For alle that wilneth to wite

The weyes of God almyghty,

I wolde his eighe were in his ers,

And his fynger after,

That evere wilneth to wite

Why that God wolde

Suffre Sathan

His seed to bigile,

Or Judas to the Jewes

Jhesu bitraye.

Al was as thow woldest,

Lord, y-worshiped be the!

And al worth as thow wolt,

What so we dispute.

"And tho that useth thise hanylons

To blende mennes wittes,

What is Do-wel fro Do-bet,

That deef mote he worthe,

Siththe he wilneth to wite

Whiche thei ben bothe,

But if he lyve in the lif

That longeth to Do-wel.

For I dar ben his bolde borgh,

That do-bet wole he nevere,

Theigh Do-best drawe on hym

Day after oother."

And whan that Wit was y-war

What dame Studie tolde,

He bicom so confus,

He kouthe noght loke,

And as doumb as deeth,

And drough hym arere;

And for no carpyng I kouthe after,

Ne knelyng to the grounde,

I myghte gete no greyn

Of his grete wittes.

But al laughynge he louted,

And loked upon Studie

In signe that I sholde

Bi-sechen hire of grace.

And whan I was war of his wille,

To his wif gan I loute,

And seide, "Mercy, madame,

Youre man shal I worthe

As longe as I lyve,

Bothe late and rathe,

For to werche youre wille

The while my lif dureth,

With that ye kenne me kyndely

To knowe what is Do-wel."

"For thi mekenesse, man," quod she,

"And for thi mylde speche,

I shal kenne thee to my cosyn

That Clergie is hoten.

He hath wedded a wif

Withinne thise sixe monthes,

Is sib to seven artz,

Scripture is hir name.

They two, as I hope,

After my techyng,

Shullen wissen thee to Do-wel,

I dar it undertake."

Thanne was I al so fayn,

As fowel of fair morwe,

And gladder than the gle-man

That gold hath to gifte;

And asked hire the heighe wey

Where that Clergie dwelte,

"And tel me som tokene," quod I,

"For tyme is that I wende."

"Aske the heighe wey," quod she,

"Hennes to Suffre-

Both-wele-and-wo,

If that thow wolt lerne,

And ryd forth by Richesse,

Ac rest thow noght therinne;

For if thow couplest thee therwith,

To Clergie comestow nevere.

"And also the likerouse launde

That Lecherie hatte,

Leve it on thi left half

A large myle or moore,

Til thow come to a court,

Kepe-wel-thi-tunge-

Fro-lesynges-and-lither-speche-

And-likerouse-drynkes.

"Thanne shaltow se Sobretee,

And Sympletee-of-speche,

That ech wight be in wille

His wit thee to shewe;

And thus shaltow come to Clergie,

That kan manye thynges.

"Seye hym this signe,

I sette hym to scole,

And that I grete wel his wif,

For I wroot hire manye bokes,

And sette hire to Sapience,

And to the Sauter glose;

Logyk I lerned hire,

And manye othere lawes,

And alle musons in musik

I made hire to knowe.

"Plato the poete

I putte first to boke,

Aristotle and othere mo

To argue I taughte.

"Grammer for girles

I garte first to write,

And bette hem with a baleys,

But if thei wolde lerne,

"Of alle kynne craftes

I contreved tooles,

Of carpentrie, of kerveres,

And compased masons,

And lerned hem level and lyne,

Though I loke dymme.

"Ac Theologie hath tened me

Ten score tymes;

The moore I muse therinne

The mystier it seemeth,

And the depper I devyne

The derker me it thynketh.

It is no science, for sothe,

For to sotile inne;

A ful lethi thyng it were,

If that love nere;

Ac for it leteth best bi-love,

I love it the bettre.

For there that love is ledere,

Ther lakked nevere grace.

Loke thow love lelly,

If thee liketh Do-wel;

For Do-bet and Do-best

Ben of Loves kynne.

"In oother science it seith,

I seigh it in Caton:

Qui simulat verbis, nec corde est fidus amicus,

Tu quoque fac simile, sic ars deluditur arte.

"Who so gloseth as gylours doon,

Go me to the same;

And so shaltow fals folk

And feith-lees bigile.

This is Catons kennyng

To clerkes that he lereth.

"Ac Theologie techeth noght so,

Who so taketh yeme;

He kenneth us the contrarie,

Ayein Catons wordes.

For he biddeth us be as bretheren,

And bidde for our enemys.

And loven hem that lyen on us,

And lene hem whan hem nedeth,

And do good ayein yvel,

God hymself it hoteth.

Dum tempus habemus, operemur

bonum ad omnes, maxime autem

ad domesticos fidei.

Poul preched the peple

That perfitnesse lovede,

To do good for Goddes love,

And gyven men that asked,

And namely to swiche

As suwen oure bileve,

And alle that lakketh us, or lyeth,

Oure Lord techeth us to lovye.

And noght to greven hem that greveth us,

God hymself forbad it,

Mihi vindictam, et ego retribuam.

"For-thi loke thow lovye,

As longe as thow durest;

For is no science under sonne

So sovereyn for the soule.

"Ac astronomye is an hard thyng,

And yvel for to knowe;

Geometrie and geomesie,

So gynful of speche,

Who so thynketh werche with tho two

Thryveth ful late,

For sorcerie is the sovereyn book

That to tho sciences bilongeth.

"Yet ar ther fibicches in forceres

Of fele mennes makyng,

Experimentz of alkenamye

The peple to deceyve;

If thow thynke to do-wel,

Deel therwith nevere.

"Alle thise sciences I myself

Sotilede and ordeynede,

And founded hem formest

Folk to deceyve.

Tel Clergie this tokene,

And Scripture after,

To counseille thee kyndely

To knowe what is Do-wel."

I seide, "Graunt mercy, madame,"

And mekely hir grette;

And wente wightly awey

Withoute moore lettyng,

And til I com to Clergie

I koude nevere stynte;

And grette the goode man,

As Studie me taughte,

And afterwardes the wif,

And worshiped hem bothe,

And tolde hem the tokenes

That me taught were.

Was nevere gome upon this ground,

Sith God made the worlde,

Fairer under-fongen,

Ne frendlier at ese,

Than myself, soothly,

Soone so he wiste

Than I was of Wittes hous,

And with his wif, dame Studie.

I seide to hem soothly

That sent was I thider,

Do-wel and Do-bet

And Do-best to lerne.

"It is a commune lyf," quod Clergie,

"On holy chirche to bileve,

With alle the articles of the feith

That falleth to be knowe;

And that is to bileve lelly,

Bothe lered and lewed,

On the grete God

That gynnyng hadde nevere,

And on the soothfast Sone

That saved mankynde

Fro the dedly deeth

And devel's power,

Thorugh the help of the Holy Goost,

The which goost is of bothe,

Thre persones, ac noght

In plurel nombre;

For al is but oon God,

And ech is God hymselve.

Deus pater, Deus filius, Deus spiritus sanctus.

God the fader, God the sone,

God holy goost of bothe,

Makere of mankynde,

And of beestes bothe.

"Austyn the olde

Herof made bokes,

And hymself ordeyned

To sadde us in bileve.

Who was his auctour?

Alle the foure euvangelistes,

And Crist cleped hymself so,

The euvangelistes bereth witnesse.

"Alle the clerkes under Crist

Ne koude this assoille;

But thus it bi-longeth to bileve

To lewed that willen do-wel.

For hadde nevere freke fyn wit

The feith to dispute,

Ne man hadde no merite,

Myghte it ben y-preved.

Fides non habet meritum, ubi humana

ratio præbet

experimentum.

"Thanne is Do-bet to suffre

For the soules helthe,

Al that the book bit

Bi holi cherches techyng;

And that is, man, bi thy myght,

For mercies sake.

Loke thow werche it in werk,

That thi word sheweth,

Swich as thow semest in sighte

Be in assay y-founde.

Appare quod es, vel esto quod appares.

"And lat no body be

By thi beryng bigiled,

But be swich in thi soule

As thow semest withoute.

"Thanne is Do-best to be boold

To blame the gilty,

Sythenes thow seest thiself

As in soule clene;

Ac blame thow nevere body,

And thow be blame worthy.

Si culpare velis,

Culpabilis esse cavebis;

Dogma tuum sordet,

Cum te tua culpa remordet.

"God in the Gospel

Grevously repreveth

Alle that lakketh any lif,

And lakkes han hemselve.

Qui consideras festucam in oculo

fratris tui, trabem in oculo tuo, etc.

"Why menestow thi mood for a mote

In thi brotheres eighe,

Sithen a beem in thyn owene

A-blyndeth thiselve.

Ejice primo trabem in oculo tuo, etc.

Which letteth thee to loke

Lasse outher more.

"I rede ech a blynd bosarde

Do boote to hymselve,

For abbotes and for priours,

And for alle manere prelates,

As persons and parisshes preestes

That preche sholde and teche

Alle maner men to amenden

Bi hire myghtes.

"This text was told yow,

To ben y-war, er ye taughte,

That ye were swiche as ye seye,

So salve with othere;

For Goddes word wolde noght be lost,

For that wercheth evere;

If it availled noght the commune,

It myghte availle yowselve.

"Ac it semeth now soothly

To the worldes sighte,

That Goddes word wercheth noght

On lered ne on lewed,

But in swich a manere

As Marc meneth in the gospel:

Dum cæcus ducit cæcum, ambo in

foveam cadunt.

"Lewed men may likne yow thus,

That the beem lith in youre eighen;

And the festu is fallen

For youre defaute,

In alle maner men,

Thorugh mansede preestes.

The Bible bereth witnesse

That the folk of Israel

Bittre a-boughte the giltes

Of two badde preestes,

Offyn and Fynes,

For hir coveitise,

Archa Dei mys-happed,

And Ely brak his nekke.

"For-thi ye corectours claweth heron.

And corecteth first yowselve

And thanne mowe ye safly seye,

As David made in the Sauter,

Existimasti inique quod ero tui

similis, arguam te, et statuam

contra faciem tuam.

"And thanne shul burel clerkes ben abasshed

To blame yow or to greve,

And carpen noght as thei carpe now,

Ne calle yow doumbe houndes.

Canes non valentes latrare.

And drede to wrathe yow in any word,

Youre werkmanshipe to lette,

And be prester at youre preiere,

Than for a pound of nobles.

And al for youre holynesse,

Have ye this in herte.

"In scole there is scorn,

But if a clerk wol lerne,

And gret love and likyng,

For ech of hem loveth oother.

"Ac now is Religion a rydere,

A romere aboute,

A ledere of love-dayes,

And a lond-buggere,

A prikere on a palfrey

Fro manere to manere,

An heepe of houndes at his ers

As he a lord were.

And but if his knave knele

That shal his coppe brynge,

He loureth on hym, and asketh hym

Who taughte hym curteisie.

"Litel hadde lordes to doon,

To gyve lond from hire heires

To religiouse, that han no routhe,

Though it reyne on hir auters.

"In many places ther thei ben persons,

By hemself at ese

Of the povere have thei no pité;

And that is hir charité.

Ac thei leten hem as lordes

Hire londes lyen so brode.

"Ac ther shal come a kyng,

And confesse yow religiouses,

And bete yow as the Bible telleth

For brekynge of youre rule;

And amende monyals,

Monkes and chanons,

And puten to hir penaunce

Ad pristinum statum ire;

And barons with erles beten hem,

Thorugh Beatus-virres techyng,

That hir barnes claymen

And blame yow foule.

Hi in curribus et hi in equis ipsi

obligati sunt, etc.

"And thanne freres in hir fraytour

Shul fynden a keye

Of Costantyns cofres,

In which is the catel

That Gregories god-children

Han yvele despended.

"And thanne shal the abbot of Abyngdone

And al his issue for evere,

Have a knok of a kyng,

And incurable the wounde.

"That this worth sooth, seke ye

That ofte over-se the Bible:

Quomodo cessavit exactor, quievit

tributum, contrivit Dominus

baculum impiorum et virgam

dominantium cædentium plaga

insanabili.

"Ac er that kyng come,

Caym shal awake.

But Do-wel shal dyngen hym adoun,

And destruye his myghte."

"Thanne is Do-wel and Do-bet," quod I,

"Dominus and knyghthode."

"I nel noght scorne," quod Scripture,

"But if scryveynes lye;

Kynghod ne knyghthod,

By noght I kan a-wayte,

Helpeth noght to hevene-ward

Oone heris ende;

Ne richesse right noght,

Ne reautee of lordes.

Poul preveth it impossible

Riche men to have hevene.

Salomon seith also

That silver is worst to lovye:

Nihil iniquius quam amare

pecuniam.

And Caton kenneth us to coveiten it

Naught but as nede techeth,

Dilige denarium, sed parce dilige formam.

And patriarkes and prophetes,

And poetes bothe,

Writen to wissen us

To wilne no richesse,

And preiseden poverte with pacience;

The apostles bereth witnesse

That thei han eritage in hevene,

And by trewe righte;

Ther riche men no right may cleyme,

But of ruthe and grace."

"Contra," quod I, "by Crist!

That kan I repreve,

And preven it by Peter,

And by Poul bothe,

That is baptized beth saaf,

Be he riche or povere."

"That is in extremis," quod Scripture,

"Amonges Sarzens and Jewes,

They mowen be saved so,

And that is oure bileve,

That an un-cristene in that caas

May cristen an hethen;

And for his lele bileve,

Whan he the lif tyneth,

Have the heritage of hevene

As any man cristene.

"Ac cristene men withoute moore

Maye noght come to hevene;

For that Crist for cristene men

Deide and confermed the lawe,

That who so wolde and wilneth

With Crist to arise,

Si cum Christo surexistis, etc.

He sholde lovye and leve,

And the lawe fulfille.

That is, love thi lord God

Levest aboven alle;

And after, alle cristene creatures

In commune, ech man oother;

And thus bi-longeth to lovye,

That leveth be saved.

And but we do thus in dede,

At the day of dome

It shal bi-sitten us ful soure

The silver that we kepen;

And oure bakkes that mothe-eten be,

And seen beggeris go naked;

Or delit in wyn and wilde fowel,

And wite any in defaute.

For every cristene creature

Sholde be kynde til oother,

And sithen hethen to helpe,

In hope of amendement.

"God hoteth heighe and lowe

That no man hurte oother;

And seith, 'Slee noght that semblable is

To myn owene liknesse,

But if I sende thee som tokene;'

And seith 'Non mœchaberis.

Is slee noght, but suffre,

And al for the beste;

For I shal punysshe hem in purgatorie

Or in the put of helle,

Ech man for hise mysdedes,

But mercy it lette.'"

HIS is a long lesson," quod I,

That Theologie lerneth;

And that I man maad was,

And my name y-entred

In the legende of lif

Longe er I were,

Or ellis un-writen for som wikkednesse,

As Holy Writ witnesseth:

Nemo ascendit ad cœlum, nisi qui

de cœlo descendit.

"I leve it wel," quod I, "by oure Lord!

And on no lettrure bettre.

For Salomon the sage,

That Sapience taughte,

God gat hym grace of wit,

And alle hise goodes after;

He demed wel and wisely,

As Holy Writ telleth.

Aristotle and he,

Who wissed men bettre?

Maistres that of Goddes mercy

Techen men and prechen,

Of hir wordes thei wissen us

For wisest as in hir tyme,

And al holy chirche

Holdeth hem bothe y-dampned.

"And if I sholde werche by hir werkes

To wynne me hevene,

That for hir werkes and wit

Now wonyeth in pyne,

Thanne wroughe I un-wisly,

What so evere ye preche.

"Ac of fele witty, in feith,

Litel ferly I have,

Though hir goost be un-gracious

God for to plese.

For many men on this moolde

Moore setten hir hertes

In good than in God;

For-thi hem grace failleth

At hir mooste meschief,

Whan thei shal lif lete.

As Salomon dide, and swiche othere

That shewed grete wittes;

Ac hir werkes, as holy writ seith,

Were evere the contrarie.

For-thi wise witted men,

And wel y-lettrede clerkes,

As thei seyen hemself,

Selde doon therafter.

Super cathedra Moysi, etc.

"Ac I wene it worth of manye,

As was in Noes tyme,

Tho he shoop that shipe

Of shides and of bordes;

Was nevere wrighte saved that wroghte theron,

Ne oothir werkman ellis,

But briddes, and beestes,

And the blissed Noe,

And his wif with hise sones,

And also hire wyves;

Of wightes that it wroghte

Was noon of hem y-saved.

"God leve it fare noght so bi folk

That the feith techeth

Of holi chirche, that herberwe is,

And Goddes hous to save,

And shilden us from shame therinne,

As Noes ship dide beestes;

And men that maden it

A-mydde the flood a-dreynten.

The culorum of this clause

Curatours is to mene,

That ben carpenters holy kirk to make

For Cristes owene beestes:

Homines et jumenta salvabis, Domine, etc.

"On Good Friday I fynde

A felon was y-saved,

That hadde lyved al his lif

With lesynges and with thefte;

And for he beknede to the cros,

And to Crist shrof him,

He was sonner y-saved

Than seint Johan the Baptist;

And or Adam or Ysaye,

Or any of the prophetes,

That hadde y-leyen with Lucifer

Many longe yeres,

A robbere was y-raunsoned

Rather than thei alle,

Withouten any penaunce of purgatorie,

To perpetuel blisse.

"Than Marie Maudeleyne

What womman dide werse?

Or who worse than David,

That Uries deeth conspired?

Or Poul the apostle,

That no pité hadde

Muche cristene kynde

To kille to dethe?

And now ben thise as sovereyns

With seintes in hevene,

Tho that wroughte wikkedlokest

In world tho thei were.

And tho that wisely wordeden,

And writen manye bokes

Of wit and of wisedom,

With dampned soules wonye.

That Salomon seith, I trowe be sooth

And certein of us alle:

Sunt justi atque sapientes et opera

eorum in manu Dei sunt, etc.

"Ther are witty and wel libbynge,

Ac hire werkes ben y-hudde

In the hondes of almyghty God,

And he woot the sothe,

Wherfore a man worth allowed there,

And hise lele werkes,

Or ellis for his yvel wille,

And for envye of herte,

And be allowed as he lyved so;

For by the luthere men knoweth the goode.

"And wherby wiste men which were whit,

If alle thyng blak were?

And who were a good man,

But if ther were som sherewe?

For-thi lyve we forth with othere men,

I leve fewe ben goode;

For quant oportet vient en place,

Il n'y ad que pati.

And he that may al amende,

Have mercy on us alle!

For sothest word that ever God seide

Was tho he seide Nemo bonus.

"Clergie tho of Cristes mouth

Comended was it litel;

For he seide to seint Peter,

And to swiche as he lovede,

Cum steteritis ante reges et præsides, etc.

Though ye come bifore kynges

And clerkes of the lawe,

Beth noght abasshed,

For I shal be in youre mouthes,

And gyve yow wit and wille,

And konnyng to conclude

Hem alle that ayeins yow

Of Cristendom disputen.

"David maketh mencion,

He spak amonges kynges,

And myghte no kyng over-comen hym

As by konnynge of speche,

But wit and wisedom

Wan nevere the maistrie,

Whan man was at meschief,

Withoute the moore grace.

"The doughtieste doctour

And devinour of the Trinitee

Was Austyn the olde,

And heighest of the foure,

Seide thus in a sermon,

I seigh it writen ones:

Ecce ipsi idiotæ vi rapiunt cœlum, ubi

nos sapientes in inferno

mergimur.

"And is to mene to men,

Moore ne lesse,

Arn none rather y-ravysshed

Fro the righte bileve,

Than are thise konnynge clerkes

That konne manye bokes.

"Ne none sonner saved,

Ne sadder of bileve,

Than plowmen and pastours,

And othere commune laborers;

Souteres and shepherdes,

And othere lewed juttes,

Percen with a pater-noster

The paleys of hevene,

And passen purgatorie penaunce-lees

At her hennes partyng

Into the blisse of paradis,

For hir pure bileve,

That imparfitly here knewe,

And ek lyvede.

"Ye men knowe clerkes,

That han corsed the tyme

That evere thei kouthe or knewe moore

Than Credo in Deum patrem;

And principally hir pater-noster

Many a persone hath wisshed.

"I se ensamples myself,

And so may manye othere,

That servauntz that serven lordes

Selde fallen in arerage,

And tho that kepen the lordes catel,

Clerkes and reves.

"Right so lewed men,

And of litel knowyng,

Selden falle thei so foule

And so fer in synne,

As clerkes of holy chirche

That kepen Cristes tresor,

The which is mannes soule to save,

As God seith in the Gospel:

Ite vos in vineam meam."