The Vision and Creed of Piers Ploughman, Volume 1

Passus Undecimus.

HANNE Scripture scorned me

Concupiscentia-carnis

Men called the elder mayde,

And Coveitise-of-eighes

Y-called was that oother.

Pride-of-parfit-lyvynge

Pursued hem bothe,

And bad me for my contenaunce

Acounten Clergie lighte.

Concupiscentia-carnis

Colled me aboute the nekke,

And seide, "Thow art yong and yeepe,

And hast yeres y-nowe

For to lyve longe,

And ladies to lovye;

And in this mirour thow myght se

Myghtes ful manye,

That leden thee wole to likynge

Al thi lif tyme."

The secounde seide the same,

"I shal sewe thi wille;

Til thow be a lord and have lond,

Leten thee I nelle,

That I ne shal folwe thi felawshipe,

If Fortune it like."

"He shal fynde me his frend,"

Quod Fortune therafter;

"The freke that folwede my wille

Failled nevere blisse."

Thanne was ther oon that highte Elde,

That hevy was of chere;

"Man," quod he, "if I mete with thee,

By Marie of hevene!

Thow shalt fynde Fortune thee faille

At thi mooste nede,

And Concupiscentia-carnis

Clene thee forsake.

Bittrely shaltow banne thanne

Bothe dayes and nyghtes

Coveitise-of-eighe,

That evere thow hir knewe,

And Pride-of-parfit-lyvynge

To muche peril thee brynge."

"Ye, recche thee nevere," quod Rechelesnesse,

Stood forthe in raggede clothes,

"Folwe forth that Fortune wole,

Thow hast wel fer til Elde;

A man may stoupe tyme y-nogh,

Whan he shal tyne the crowne.

"Homo proponit quod a poete,

And Plato he highte,

And Deus disponit quod he,

Lat God doon his wille.

If Truthe wol witnesse it be wel do

Fortune to folwe,

Concupiscentia-carnis,

Ne Coveitise-of-eighes,

Ne shal noght greve thee gretly,

Ne bigile, but if thow wolt thiselve."

"Ye, fare wel Phippe and Faunteltee,"

And forth gan me drawe,

Til Concupiscentia-carnis

Acorded alle my werkes.

"Alas! eighe," quod Elde

And Holynesse bothe,

"That wit shal torne to wrecchednesse,

For wil to have his likyng."

Coveitise-of-eighes

Conforted me anoon after,

And folwed me fourty wynter

And a fifte moore,

That of Do-wel ne Do-bet

Ne deyntee me thoughte.

I hadde no likyng, leve me if thee list,

Of hem ought to knowe.

Coveitise-of-eighes

Com ofter in mynde

Than Do-wel or Do-bet,

Among my dedes alle.

Coveitise-of-eighes

Conforted me ofte,

And seide, "Have no conscience

How thow come to goode.

Go confesse thee to som frere,

And shewe hym thi synnes;

For whiles Fortune is thi frend

Freres wol thee lovye,

And fecche thee to hir fraternitee,

And for the biseke

To hir priour provincial

A pardon for to have,

And preien for thee pol by pol,

If thow be pecuniosus."

Sed pœna pecuniaria non sufficit pro

spiritualibus delictis.

By wissynge of this wenche I wroughte,

Hir wordes were so swete,

Til I for-yat youthe,

And yarn into elde.

And thanne was Fortune my foo,

For al hir faire speche;

And poverte pursued me,

And putte me lowe.

And tho fond I the frere a-fered,

And flittynge bothe

Ayeins oure firste for-warde;

For I seide I nolde

Be buried at hire hous,

But at my parisshe chirche.

For I herde ones

How Conscience it tolde,

That there a man were cristned

Be kynde he sholde be buryed;

Or where he were parisshen,

Right there he sholde be graven.

And for I seide thus to freres,

A fool thei me helden,

And loved me the lasse

For my lele speche.

Ac yet I cryde on my confessour,

That heeld hymself so konnyng;

"By my feith! frere," quod I,

"Ye faren lik thise woweris

That wedde none widwes

But for to welden hir goodes.

Right so, by the roode!

Roughte ye nevere

Where my body were buryed,

By so ye hadde my silver.

"Ich have muche merveille of yow,

And so hath many another,

Whi youre covent coveiteth

To confesse and to burye,

Rather than to baptize barnes

That ben catecumelynges.

Baptizynge and buryinge

Bothe beth ful nedefulle;

Ac muche moore meritorie,

Me thynketh it is to baptize.

For a baptized man may,

As thise maistres telleth,

Thorugh contricion come

To the heighe hevene.

Sola contritio, etc.

Ac barn withouten bapteme

May noght so be saved.

Nisi quis renatus fuerit.

Loke ye, lettred men,

Wheither I lye or do noght."

And Lewté loked on me,

And I loured after.

"Wherfore lourestow?" quod Lewtee,

And loked on me harde.

"If I dorste," quod I, "amonges men

This metels avowe!"

"Yis, by Peter and by Poul!" quod he,

And took hem bothe to witnesse.

"Non oderis fratres secrete in corde

tuo, sed publice argue illos."

"They wole aleggen also," quod I,

"And by the Gospel preven:

Nolite judicare quemquam."

"And wherof serveth lawe?" quod Lewtee,

"If no lif undertoke it,

Falsnesse ne faiterie,

For som what the apostle seide,

Non oderis fratrem.

And in the Sauter also

Seith David the prophete,

Existimasti inique quod ero tui similis, etc.

"It is licitum for lewed men

To sigge the sothe,

If hem liketh and lest,

Ech a lawe it graunteth;

Excepte persons and preestes,

And prelates of holy chirche,

It falleth noght for that folk

No tales to telle,

Though the tale be trewe,

And it touche synne.

"Thyng that al the world woot,

Wherfore sholdestow spare

To reden it in retorik

To a-rate dedly synne?

Ac be nevere moore the firste

Defaute to blame;

Though thow se yvel, seye it noght first,

Be sory it nere amended.

No thyng that is pryvé,

Publice thow it nevere;

Neither for love preise it noght,

Ne lakke it for envye.

Parum lauda, vitupera parcius."

"He seith sooth," quod Scripture tho,

And skipte an heigh, and preched.

Ac the matere that she meved,

If lewed men it knewe,

The lasse, as I leve,

Lovyen it thei wolde.

This was hir teme and hir text,

I took ful good hede;

Multi to a mangerie

And to the mete were sompned;

And whan the peple was plener comen,

The porter unpynned the yate,

And plukked in Pauci pryveliche,

And leet the remenaunt go rome.

Al for tene of hir text

Trembled myn herte;

And in a weer gan I wexe,

And with myself to dispute

Wheither I were chosen or noght chosen.

On holi chirche I thoughte,

That under-fonged me atte font

For oon of Goddes chosene.

For Crist cleped us alle,

Come if we wolde,

Sarzens and scismatikes,

And so he dide the Jewes.

O vos omnes sitientes, venite, etc.

And bad hem souke for synne

Safly at his breste,

And drynke boote for bale,

Brouke it who so myghte.

"Thanne may alle cristene come, quod I,"

"And cleyme there entree

By the blood that he boughte us with

And thorugh bapteme after.

Qui crediderit et baptizatus fuerit, etc.

For though a cristen man coveited

His cristendom to reneye,

Rightfully to reneye

No reson it wolde.

"For may no cherl chartre make,

Ne his catel selle,

Withouten leve of his lord;

No lawe wol it graunte.

Ac he may renne in arerage,

And rome so fro home,

And as a reneyed caytif

Recchelesly rennen aboute.

And Reson shal rekene with hym,

And casten hym in arerage,

And putten hym after in a prison

In purgatorie to brenne,

For hise arerages rewarden hym there

To the day of dome;

But if Contricion wol come,

And crye, by his lyve,

Mercy for hise mysdedes,

With mouthe and with herte,"

"That is sooth," seide Scripture;

"May no synne lette

Mercy al to amende,

And mekenesse hir folwe.

For thei beth, as oure bokes telleth,

Above Goddes werkes."

Misericordia ejus super omnia opera ejus.

"Ye, baw for bokes," quod oon

Was broken out of helle,

Highte Trojanus, hadde ben a trewe knyght,

Took witnesse at a pope,

How he was ded and dampned

To dwellen in pyne,

For an uncristene creature;

"Clerkes wite the sothe,

That al the clergie under Crist

Ne myghte me cracche fro helle,

But oonliche love and leautee,

And my laweful domes.

"Gregorie wiste this wel,

And wilned to my soule

Savacion for soothnesse

That he seigh in my werkes;

And after that he wepte,

And wilned me were graunted

Grace; withouten any bene biddyng

His boone was under-fongen,

And I saved, as ye see,

Withouten syngynge of masses.

By love and by lernyng

Of my lyvynge, in truthe,

Broughte me fro bitter peyne

Ther no biddyng myghte."

Lo! ye lordes, what leautee dide

By an emperour of Rome,

That was an uncristene creature,

As clerkes fyndeth in bokes.

Nought thorugh preiere of a pope,

But for his pure truthe,

Was that Sarsen saved.

As seint Gregorie bereth witnesse.

Wel oughte ye, lordes, that lawes kepe,

This lesson to have in mynde,

And on Trojanus truthe to thenke,

And do truthe to the peple.

"Lawe, withouten love," quod Trojanus,

"Ley ther a bene,

Or any science under sonne,

The sevene artz and alle,

But thei ben lerned for oure Lordes love,

Lost is al the tyme;"

For no cause to cacche silver therby,

Ne to be called a maister,

But al for love of oure Lord,

And the bet to love the peple,

For seint Johan seide it,

And sothe arn hise wordes.

Qui non diligit, manet in morte.

Who so loveth noght, leve me,

He lyveth in deep deyinge;

And that alle manere men,

Enemyes and frendes,

Love hir eyther oother,

And leve hem, as hemselve,

Who so leveth noght, he loveth noght,

God woot the sothe!

Crist comaundeth ech a creature

To conformen hym to lovye,

And sovereynly the povere peple,

And hir enemyes after.

For hem that haten us

Is oure merite to lovye,

And povere peple to plese,

Hir preieres maye us helpe.

And oure joye and oure heele

Jhesu Crist of hevene

In a povere mannes apparaille

Pursued us evere;

And loketh on us in hir liknesse,

And that with lovely chere,

To knowen us by oure kynde herte

And castynge of oure eighen,

Wheither we love the lordes here

Bifore the Lord of blisse;

And exciteth us by the Euvangelie

That whan we maken festes,

We sholde noght clepe oure kyn therto,

Ne none kynnes riche.

Cum facitis convivia, nolite invitare amicos.

"Ac calleth the carefulle therto,

The croked and the povere.

For youre frendes wol feden yow,

And fonde yow to quyte

Youre festynge and youre faire gifte;

Ech frend quyteth so oother.

"Ac for the povere I shal paie,

And pure wel quyte hir travaille,

That gyveth hem mete or moneie,

Or loveth hem for my sake."

For the beste ben som riche,

And some beggeres and povere.

For alle are we Cristes creatures,

And of his cofres riche,

And bretheren as of oo blood,

As wel beggeres as erles.

For on Calvarie of Cristes blood

Cristendom gan sprynge,

And blody bretheren we bicomen there

Of o body y-wonne,

As quasi modo geniti,

And gentil-men echone;

No beggere ne boye amonges us,

But if it synne made.

Qui facit peccatum, servus est peccati.

"In the olde lawe,

As holy lettre telleth,

Mennes sones

Men callen us echone,

Of Adames issue and Eve,

Ay til God man deide;

And after his resurexcion

Redemptor was his name,

And we hise bretheren thorugh hym y-brought,

Bothe riche and povere.

"For-thi love we as leve bretheren,

And ech man laughe of oother;

And of that ech man may forbere

Amende there it nedeth;

And every man helpe oother,

For hennes shul we alle.

Alter alterius onera portate.

"And be we noght un-kynde of oure catel,

Ne of oure konnyng neither.

For woot no man how neigh it is

To ben y-nome fro bothe.

For-thi lakke no lif oother,

Though he moore Latyn knowe;

Ne under-nyme noght foule;

For is noon withoute defaute.

For what evere clerkes carpe

Of cristendom or ellis,

Crist to a commune womman seide,

In commune at a feste,

That fides sua sholde saven hire,

And salven hire of synnes.

"Thanne is bileve a lele help,

Above logyk or lawe.

Of logyk or of lawe

In Legenda Sanctorum

Is litel alowaunce maad,

But if bileve hem helpe.

For it is over longe er logyk

Any lesson assoille;

And lawe is looth to lovye,

But if he lacche silver.

Bothe logyk and lawe,

That loveth noght to lye,

I conseille alle cristene

Clyve noght theron to soore;

For some wordes I fynde writen,

That were of feithes techyng,

That saved synful men,

As seint Johan bereth witnesse.

Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis,

remetietur vobis.

"For-thi lerne we the lawe of love,

As oure Lord taughte,

And as seint Gregorie seide

For mannes soule helthe:

Melius est scrutari scelera nostra,

quam naturas rerum.

"Why I meve this matere,

Is moost for the povere;

For in hir liknesse oure Lord

Ofte hath ben y-knowe.

Witnesse in the Pask wyke

Whan he yede to Emaüs;

Cleophas ne knew hym noght

That he Crist were,

For his povere apparaille,

And pilgrymes wedes,

Til he blessede and brak

The breed that thei eten;

So bi hise werkes thei wisten

That he was Jhesus,

Ac by clothyng thei knewe hym noght,

Ne by carpynge of tunge.

And al was in ensample

To us synfulle here,

That we sholde be lowe

And loveliche of speche,

And apparaille us noght over proudly,

For pilgrymes are we alle.

"And in the apparaille of a povere man,

And pilgrymes liknesse,

Many tyme God hath ben met

Among nedy peple,

Ther nevere segge hym seigh

In secte of the riche.

"Seint Johan and othere seintes

Were seyen in poore clothyng,

And as povere pilgrymes

Preyed mennes goodes.

"Jhesu Crist on a Jewes doghter lighte,

Gentil womman though she were,

Was a pure povere maide,

And to a povere man y-wedded.

"Martha on Marie Maudeleyne

An huge pleynt made,

And to oure Saveour self

Seide thise wordes:

Domine, non est tibi curæ quod

soror mea reliquit me solam

ministrare.

"And hastily God answerde,

And eitheres wille folwed,

Bothe Marthaes and Maries,

As Mathew bereth witnesse;

Ac poverte God putte bifore,

And preised that the bettre.

Maria optimam partem elegit, quæ non, etc.

"And alle the wise that evere were,

By aught I kan aspye,

Preiseden poverte for best lif,

If pacience it folwed,

And bothe bettre and blesseder

By many fold than richesse.

For though it be sour to suffre,

Therafter cometh swete;

As on a walnote withoute

Is a bitter barke,

And after that bitter bark,

Be the shelle aweye,

Is a kernel of confort

Kynde to restore.

"So is after poverte or penaunce

Paciently y-take;

For it maketh a man to have mynde

In God, and a gret wille

To wepe and to wel bidde,

Wherof wexeth mercy,

Of which Crist is a kernelle

To conforte the soule.

And wel sikerer he slepeth,

The man that is povere,

And lasse he dredeth deeth,

And in derke to ben y-robbed,

Than he that is right riche,

Reson bereth witnesse.

Pauper ego ludo, dum tu dives meditaris.

"Al though Salomon seide,

As folk seeth in the Bible,

Divitias nec paupertates, etc.

Wiser than Salomon was

Bereth witnesse and taughte

That parfit poverte was

No possession to have,

And lif moost likynge to God,

As Luc bereth witnesse:

Si vis perfectus esse, vade et vende.

"And is to mene to men

That on this moolde lyven,

Who so wole be pure parfit

Moot possession forsake,

Or selle it, as seith the Book,

And the silver dele

To beggeris that goon and begge

And bidden good for Goddes love.

For failed nevere man mete

That myghtful God serveth,

As David seith in the Sauter

To swiche that ben in wille

To serve God goodliche,

Ne greveth hym no penaunce:

Nihil inpossibile volenti.

Ne lakketh nevere liflode,

Lynnen ne wollen.

Inquirentes autem Dominum non

minuentur omni bono.

"If preestes weren parifite,

Thei wolde ne silver take

For masses ne for matyns,

Noght hir mete of usureres,

Ne neither kirtel ne cote,

Theigh thei for cold sholde deye,

And thei hir devoir dide,

As David seith in the Sauter:

Judica me, Deus, et decerne causam meam.

"Spera-in-Deo speketh of preestes

That have no spendyng silver,

That if thei travaille truweliche

And truste in God almyghty,

Hem sholde lakke no liflode,

Neyther lynnen ne wollen.

And the title that ye take ordres by

Telleth ye ben avaunced;

Thanne nedeth yow noght to take silver

For masses that ye syngen.

For he that took yow youre title,

Sholde take yow youre wages,

Or the bisshop that blessed yow,

If that ye ben worthi.

"For made nevere kyng no knyght,

But he hadde catel to spende

As bifel for a knyght,

Or foond hym for his strengthe.

It is a careful knyght,

And of a caytif kynges makyng,

That hath no lond ne lynage riche,

Ne good loos of hise handes.

"The same I segge, for sothe,

By alle swiche preestes

That han neither konnynge ne kyn,

But a crowne one,

And a title, a tale of noght,

To his liflode at his meschief.

He hath moore bileve, as I leve,

To lacche through his croune

Cure, than for konnyng,

Or knowen for clene berynge.

I have wonder for why

And wherefore the bisshope

Maketh swiche preestes,

That lewed men bitrayen.

"A chartre is chalangeable

Bifore a chief justice;

If fals Latyn be in the lettre,

The lawe it impugneth,

Or peynted parentrelynarie,

Or percelles over-skipped;

The gome that gloseth so chartres

For a goky is holden.

"So is it a goky, by God!

That in his gospel failleth,

Or in masse or in matyns

Maketh any defaut.

Qui offendit in uno, in omnibus est reus.

"And also in the Sauter

Seith David to over-skipperis,

Psallite Deo nostro, psallite, quoniam

rex terræ Deus Israel,

psallite sapienter.

"The bisshop shal be blamed

Bifore God, as I leve,

That crouneth swiche Goddes knyghtes

That konneth noght sapienter

Synge, ne psalmes rede,

Ne seye a masse of the day.

And never neither is blame-lees

The bisshope ne the chapeleyn;

For hir either is endited,

And that is, ignorantia

Non excusat episcopos

Nec idiotes preestes.

"This lokynge on lewed preestes

Hath doon me lepe from poverte,

The which I preise ther pacience is

Moore perfit than richesse."

C muche moore in metynge thus

By hir makes yeden;

Wilde wormes in wodes,

And wonderful foweles

With fleckede fetheres

And of fele colours.

Man and his make

I myghte bothe biholde;

Poverte and plentee;

Bothe pees and werre;

Blisse and bale bothe

I seigh al at ones;

And how men token mede,

And mercy refused.

Reson I seigh soothly

Sewen alle beestes,

In etynge, in drynkynge,

And in engendrynge of kynde;

And after cours of concepcion,

Noon took kepe of oother

As whan thei hadde ryde in rotey tyme,

Anoon right therafter

Males drowen hem to males

A-morwenynges by hemselve,

And in evenynges also

The males ben fro femelles.

Ther ne was cow ne cow-kynde

That conceyved hadde,

That wolde belwe after boles,

Ne boor after sowe;

Bothe hors and houndes,

And alle othere beestes,

Medled noght with hir makes

That with fole were.

Briddes I biheld

That in buskes made nestes,

Hadde nevere wye wit

To werche the leeste.

I hadde wonder at whom

And wher the pye lerned

To legge the stikkes

In whiche she leyeth and bredeth.

Ther nys wrighte, as I wene,

Sholde werche hir nestes to paye;

If any mason made a molde therto,

Muche wonder it were.

Ac yet me merveilled moore,

How many othere briddes

Hidden and hileden

Hir egges ful derne

In mareys and moores,

For men sholde hem noght fynde;

And hidden hir egges,

Whan thei therfro wente,

For fere of othere foweles,

And for wilde beestes.

And some troden hir makes,

And on trees bredden,

And broughten forth hir briddes so

Al above the grounde;

And some briddes at the bile

Thorugh brethyng conceyved;

And some caukede; and took kepe

How pecokkes bredden.

Muche merveilled me

What maister hem made,

And who taughte hem on trees

To tymbre so heighe,

Ther neither burn ne beest

May hir briddes rechen.

And sithen I loked upon the see,

And so forth upon the sterres;

Manye selkouthes I seigh,

Ben noght to seye nouthe.

I seigh floures in the fryth,

And hir faire colours;

And how among the grene gras

Growed so manye hewes,

And some soure and some swete,

Selkouth me thoughte;

Of hir kynde and hir colour

To carpe it were to longe.

Ac that moost meved me

And my mood chaunged,

That Reson rewarded

And ruled alle beestes,

Save man and his make;

Many tyme and ofte

No reson hem folwede.

And thanne I rebukede

Reson, and right

Til hymselven I seyde:

"I have wonder of thee," quod I,

"That witty art holden,

Why thow ne sewest man and his make,

That no mysfeet hem folwe."

And Reson a-rated me,

And seide, "Recche thee nevere;

Why I suffre or noght suffre,

Thiself hast noght to doone.

Amende thow it, if thow myght,

For my tyme is to abide.

Suffraunce is a soverayn vertue,

And a swift vengeance.

Who suffrede moore than God?" quod he;

"No gome, as I leeve.

He myghte amende in a minute while

Al that mys-standeth;

Ac he suffreth for som mannes goode,

And so it is oure bettre,

The wise and the witty

Wroot thus in the Bible:

De re quæ te non molestat, noli certare.

"For be a man fair or foul,

It falleth noght for to lakke

The shap ne the shaft

That God shoop hymselve;

For al that he dide was wel y-do,

As holy writ witnesseth:

Et vidit Deus cuncta quæ fecerat, et

erant valde bona.

"And bad every creature

In his kynde encreesse;

Al to murthe with man,

That moste wo tholie

In fondynge of the flessh,

And of the fend bothe.

For man was maad of swich a matere,

He may noght wel a-sterte

That ne som tyme hym bitit

To folwen his kynde.

Caton a-cordeth therwith,

Nemo sine crimine vivit."

Tho caughte I colour anoon,

And comsed to ben ashamed,

And awaked therwith.

Wo was me thanne,

That I in metels ne myghte

Moore have y-knowen.

And thanne seide I to myself,

And chidde that tyme,

"Now I woot what Do-wel is," quod I,

"By deere God! as me thynketh."

And as I caste up myne eighen,

Oon loked on me and asked

Of me, what thynge it were:

"Y-wis, sire," I seide,

"To se muche and suffre moore,

Certes," quod I, "is Do-wel."

"Haddestow suffred," he seide,

"Slepynge tho thow were,

Thow sholdest have knowen that Clergie kan,

And contreved moore thorugh reson.

For Reson wolde have reherced thee

Right as Clergie seide.

Ac for thyn entre-metynge,

Here artow forsake.

Philosophus esses, si tacuisses.

"Adam, whiles he spak noght,

Hadde paradis at wille;

Ac whan he mamelede aboute mete,

And entre-metede to knowe

The wisedom and the wit of God,

He was put fram blisse.

"And right so ferde Reson bi thee;

Thow with thi rude speche

Lakkedest and losedest thyng

That longed the noght to doone.

Tho hadde he no likyng

For to lere the moore.

"Pryde now and presumpcion

Peraventure wol thee appele,

That Clergie thi compaignye

Kepeth noght to suwe.

Shal nevere chalangynge ne chidynge

Chaste a man so soone,

As shal shame, and shenden hym,

And shape hym to amende.

For lat a dronken daffe

In a dyk falle,

Lat hym ligge, loke noght on hym,

Til hym liste aryse.

For though Reson rebuked hym thanne,

It were but pure synne.

Ac whan nede nymeth hym up

For doute lest he sterve,

And shame shrapeth hise clothes,

And hise shynes wassheth.

Thanne woot the dronken daffe

Wherfore he is to blame."

"Ye siggen sooth," quod I;

"Ich have y-seyen it ofte,

Ther smyt no thyng so smerte,

Ne smelleth so soure,

As shame, there he sheweth hym;

For every man hym shonyeth.

Why ye wisse me thus," quod I,

"Was for I rebuked Reson."

"Certes," quod he, "that is sooth;"

And shoop hym for to walken.

And I aroos up right with that,

And folwed hym after,

And preyde hym of his curteisie

To telle me his name.

Passus Duodecimus, etc.

AM Ymaginatif," quod he,

And manye tymes have meved thee

To thynke on thyn ende,

And how fele fernyeres are faren,

And so fewe to come;

And of thi wilde wantownesse

Tho thow yong were,

To amende it in thi middel age,

Lest myght the failled

In thyn olde elde,

That yvele kan suffre

Poverte or penaunce,

Or preyeres to bidde.

Si non in prima vigilia, nec in secunda, etc.

"Amende thee, while thow myght;

Thow hast ben warned ofte

With poustees of pestilences,

With poverte and with angres;

And with thise bittre baleises

God beteth his deere children.

Quem diligo, castigo.

"And David in the Sauter seith

Of swiche that loveth Jhesus:

Virga tua et baculus tuus ipsa me consolati sunt.

"Al though thow strike me with thi staf,

With stikke or with yerde,

It is but murthe as for me,

To amende my soule.

And thow medlest thee with makynges,

And myghtest go seye thi Sauter,

And bidde for hem that gyveth thee breed,

For ther are bokes y-knowe

To telle men what Do-wel is,

Do-bet and Do-best bothe,

And prechours to preven what it is

Of many a peire freres."

I seigh wel he seide me sooth;

And som what me to excuse,

Seide Caton conforted me his sone,

That clerk though he were,

To solacen hym som tyme,

As I do whan I make:

Interpone tuis interdum gaudia curis.

"And of holy men I herde, quod I,"

"How thei outher while

Pleyden the parfiter,

To ben in manye places,

Ac if ther were any wight

That wolde me telle

What were Do-wel and Do-bet

And Do-best at the laste,

Wolde I nevere do werk,

But wende to holi chirche,

And ther bidde my bedes,

But whan ich ete or slepe."

"Poul in his pistle," quod he,

"Preveth what is Do-wel:

Fides, spes, caritas, et major horum, etc.

Feith, hope, and charité;

And alle ben goode,

And saven men sondry tymes;

Ac noon so soone as charité.

For he dooth wel withouten doute,

That dooth as lewté techeth;

That is, if thow be man maryed,

Thi make thow lovye,

And lyve forth as lawe wole,

While ye lyven bothe.

"Right so if thow be religious,

Ren thow nevere ferther

To Rome ne to Rochemador,

But as thi rule techeth;

And hold thee under obedience,

That heigh wey is to hevene.

"And if thow be maiden to marye,

And myght wel continue,

Seke thow nevere seint ferther

For no soule helthe.

For what made Lucifer

To lese the heighe hevene?

Or Salomon his sapience,

Or Sampson his strengthe?

Job the Jew his joye

Ful deere a-boughte;

Aristotle and othere mo,

Ypocras and Virgile;

Alisaundre, that al wan,

Elengliche ended.

Catel and kynde wit

Was combraunce to hem alle.

"Felice hir fairnesse

Fel hire al to sclaundre;

And Rosamounde right so,

Reufulliche to bileve,

The beauté of hir body

In baddenesse she despended.

Of manye swiche I may rede,

Of men and of wommen,

That wise wordes wolde shewe,

And werche the contrarie.

Sunt homines nequam bene de virtute loquentes.

"And riche renkes right so

Gaderen and sparen,

And tho men that thei moost haten

Mynistren it at the laste.

And for thei suffren and see

So manye nedy folkes,

And love hem noght as oure Lord bit,

Thei lesen hir soules.

Date et dabitur vobis.

"And richesse right so,

But if the roote be trewe.

Ac grace is a gras therof

Tho grevaunces to abate.

Ac grace ne groweth noght

But amonges lowe;

Pacience and poverte

The place highte ther it groweth,

And in lele lyvynge men,

And in lif holy,

And thorugh the gifte of the Holy Goost,

As the Gospel telleth.

Spiritus ubi vult spirat.

"Clergie and kynde wit

Cometh of sighte and techyng;

As the book bereth witnesse

To burnes that kan rede.

Quod scimus loquimur, quod vidimus testamur.

"Of quod scimus cometh clergie

And konnynge of hevene;

And of quod vidimus cometh kynde wit,

Of sighte of diverse peple.

Ac grace is a gifte of God,

And of greet love spryngeth;

Knew nevere clerk how it cometh forth,

Ne kynde wit the weyes.

Nescit aliquis unde venit, aut quo vadit, etc.

"Ac yet is clergie to comende,

And kynde wit bothe;

And namely clergie, for Cristes love

That of clergie is roote.

For Moyses witnesseth that God wroot

For to wisse the peple

In the olde lawe, as the lettre telleth,

That was the lawe of Jewes,

That what womman were in avoutrye taken,

Were she riche or poore,

With stones men sholde hir strike,

And stone hire to dethe.

"A womman, as I fynde,

Was gilty of that dede.

Ac Crist of his curteisie

Thorugh clergie hir saved;

And thorugh caractes that Crist wroot,

The Jewes knewe hemselve

Giltier as a-fore God,

And gretter in synne,

Than the womman that there was,

And wenten awey for shame.

"The clergie that there was,

Conforted the womman.

Holy kirke knoweth this,

That Cristes writyng saved hire.

So clergie is confort

To creatures that repenten,

And to mansede men

Meschief at hire ende.

"For Goddes body myghte noght ben

Of breed, withouten clergie;

The which body is bothe

Boote to the rightfulle,

And deeth and dampnacion

To hem that deyeth yvele,

As Cristes caracte confortede,

And bothe coupable shewed,

The womman that the Jewes broughte,

That Jhesus thoughte to save.

Nolite judicare, et non judicabimini.

Right so Goddes body, bretheren,

But if it be worthili taken,

Dampneth us at the day of dome,

As the caractes dide the Jewes.

"For-thi I counseille thee, for Cristes sake,

Clergie that thow lovye.

For kynde wit is of his kyn,

And neighe cosynes bothe

To oure Lord, leve me;

For-thi love hem, I rede.

For bothe ben as mirours

To amenden oure defautes,

And lederes for lewed men

And for lettred bothe.

"For-thi lakke thow nevere logik,

Lawe ne hise custumes;

Ne countreplede clerkes,

I counseille thee for evere.

For as a man may noght see,

That mysseth hise eighen;

Na-moore kan no clerk,

But if he caughte it first thorugh bokes.

Al though men made bokes,

God was the maister,

And seint spirit the samplarie,

And seide what men sholde write.

"Right so ledeth lettrure

Lewed men to reson;

And as a blynd man in bataille

Bereth wepne to fighte,

And hath noon hap with his ax

His enemy to hitte,

Na-moore kan a kynde witted man,

But clerkes hym teche,

Come for al his kynde wit

To cristendom, and be saved.

Which is the cofre of Cristes tresor,

And clerkes kepe the keyes

To unloken it at hir likyng,

And to the lewed peple

Gyve mercy for hire mysdedes,

If men it wolde aske

Buxomliche and benigneliche,

And bidden it of Grace.

"Archa Dei in the olde lawe

Levytes it kepten;

Hadde nevere lewed man leve

To leggen hond on that cheste,

But he were preest or preestes sone,

Patriark or prophete.

For clergie is kepere

Under Crist of hevene.

Was ther nevere no knyght,

But clergie hym made.

Ac kynde wit cometh

Of alle kynnes syghtes,

Of briddes and of beestes,

Of tastes of truthe and of deceites.

"Lyveris to-forn us

Useden to marke

For selkouthes that thei seighen,

Hir sones for to teche;

And helden it an heigh science

Hir wittes to knowe.

Ac thorugh hir science soothly

Was nevere no soule y-saved,

Ne broght by hir bokes

To blisse ne to joye;

For alle hir kynde knowynges

Come but of diverse sightes.

"Patriarkes and prophetes

Repreveden hir science,

And seiden hir wordes and hir wisdomes

Nas but a folye;

And to the clergie of Crist

Counted it but a trufle.

Sapientia hujus mundi stultitia est apud Deum.

"For the heighe Holy Goost

Hevene shal to-cleve,

And love shall lepen out after

Into the lowe erthe;

And clennesse shal cacchen it,

And clerkes shullen it fynde.

Pastores loquebantur ad invicem.

"He speketh there of riche men right noght,

Ne of right witty,

Ne of lordes that were lewed men,

But of the hyeste lettred oute.

Ibant magi ab oriente.

"If any frere were founde there,

I gyve thee fyve shillynges;

Ne in none burgeises cote

Was that barn born;

But in a burgeises place

Of Bethlem the beste.

Sed non erat ei locus in diversorio, et

pauper non habet diversorium.

"To pastours and to poetes

Appered the aungel,

And bad hem go to Bethlem

Goddes burthe to honoure;

And songe a song of solas,

Gloria in excelsis Deo!

"Clerkes knewen it wel,

And comen with hir presentz,

And diden homage honurably

To hym that was almyghty.

"Why I have tolde al this,

I took ful good hede

How thow contrariedest Clergie

With crabbede wordes,

How that lewde men lightloker

Than lettrede were saved,

Than clerkes or kynde witted men

Of cristene peple;

And thow seidest sooth of somme,

Ac se in what manere.

"Tak two stronge men,

And in Themese cast hem,

And bothe naked as a nedle,

Her noon sikerer than oother;

That oon hath konnynge and kan

Swymmen and dyven;

That oother is lewed of that labour,

That lerned nevere swymme;

Which trowestow of tho two

That is in moost drede?

He that nevere ne dyved,

Ne noght kan of swymmyng?

Or the swymmere that is saaf

By so hymself like,

Ther his felawe fleteth forth

As the flood liketh,

And is in drede to drenche,

That nevere dide swymme?"

"That swymme kan noght," I seide,

"It semeth to my wittes."

"Right so," quod the renk.

"Reson it sheweth,

That he that knoweth clergie

Kan sonner arise

Out of synne, and be saaf,

Though he synne ofte,

If hym liketh and lest,

Than any lewed leelly.

For if the clerk be konnynge,

He knoweth what is synne,

And how contricion withoute confession

Conforteth the soule;

As thow seest in the Sauter,

In Salmes oon or tweyne,

How contricion is comended,

For it cacheth awey synne.

Beati quorum remissæ sunt iniquitates,

et quorum tecta sunt, etc.

"And this conforteth ech a clerk,

And covereth hym fro wanhope.

In which flood the fend

Fondeth a man hardest.

Ther the lewed lith stille,

And loketh after lente,

And hath no contricion er he come to shrifte,

And thanne kan he litel telle,

But as his lores-man lereth hym

Bileveth and troweth;

And that is after person or parissh preest,

The whiche ben peraventure

Unkonnynge to lere lewed men,

As Luc bereth witnesse:

Dum cæcus ducit cæcum, etc.

"Wo was hym marked

That wade moot with the lewed!

Wel may the barn blesse that man

That hym to book sette,

That lyvynge after lettrure

Saveth hym lif and soule.

Dominus pars hereditatis meæ,

Is a murye verset,

That hath take fro Tybourne

Twenty stronge theves;

Ther lewed theves ben lolled up,

Loke how thei be saved.

"The thef that hadde grace of God

On Good-friday, as thow spekest,

Was for he yald hym creaunt to Crist on the cros,

And knewliched hym gilty,

And grace asked of God,

That to graunten it is redy

To hem that buxomliche biddeth it,

And ben in wille to amenden.

Ac though that theef hadde hevene,

He hadde noon heigh blisse,

As seint Johan and othere seintes

That deserved hadde bettre.

"Right as som man yeve me mete,

And a-mydde the floor sette me,

And hadde mete moore than y-nough,

Ac noght so muche worshipe

As tho that seten at the syde table,

Or with the sovereynes of the halle;

But sete as a beggere bord-lees

By myself on the grounde.

So it fareth by that felon

That a Good-friday was saved.

He sit neither with seint Johan,

Symond ne Jude,

Ne with maydenes ne with martires,

Confessours ne wydewes;

But by hymself as a soleyn,

And served on erthe.

For he that is ones a thef

Is evere moore in daunger,

And, as lawe liketh,

To lyve or to deye.

De peccato propitiato, noli esse sine metu.

And for to serven a seint

And swich a thef togideres,

It were neither reson ne right

To rewarde hem bothe y-liche.

"And right as Trojanus the trewe knyght

Dwelte noght depe in helle,

That oure Lord ne hadde hym lightly out,

So leve I the thef be in hevene.

For he is in the loweste of hevene,

If oure bileve be trewe;

And wel loselly he lolleth there,

By the lawe of holy chirche.

Qui reddit unicuique juxta opera sua, etc.

"And why that oon theef on the cros

Creaunt hym yald

Rather than that oother theef,

Though thow woldest appose,

Alle the clerkes under Crist

Ne kouthe the skile assoille.

Quare placuit, quia voluit.

"And so I seye by thee

That sekest after the whyes,

And a-resonedest Reson

A rebukynge as it were;

And of the floures in the fryth,

And of hire faire hewes,

Wherof thei cacche hir colours

So clere and so brighte;

And willest of briddes and of beestes,

And of hir bredyng, to knowe,

Why some be a-lough and some a-loft,

Thi likyng it were;

And of the stones and of the sterres

Thow studiest, as I leve;

How evere beest outher brid

Hath so breme wittes.

"Clergie ne kynde wit

Ne knew nevere the cause;

Ac kynde knoweth the cause hymself,

And no creature ellis.

He is the pies patron,

And putteth it in hir ere

There the thorn is thikkest

To buylden and brede.

And kynde kenned the pecok

To cauken in swich a kynde;

And kenned Adam

To knowe his pryvé membres,

And taughte hym and Eve

To helien hem with leves.

"Lewed men many tymes

Maistres thei apposen,

Why Adam ne hiled noght first

His mouth that eet the appul,

Rather than his likame a-logh;

Lewed asken thus clerkes.

"Kynde knoweth whi he dide so,

Ac no clerk ellis,

Ac of briddes and of beestes

Men by olde tyme

Ensamples token and termes,

As telleth the poetes;

And that the faireste fowel

Foulest engendreth,

And feblest fowel of flight is

That fleeth or swymmeth;

And that the pecok and the pehen

Proude riche men bitokneth;

For the pecok, and men pursue hym,

May noght flee heighe,

For the trailynge of his tail

Overtaken is he soone,

And his flessh is foul flessh,

And his feet bothe,

And un-lovelich of ledene,

And looth for to here.

"Right so the riche,

If he his richesse kepe,

And deleth it noght til his deeth-day,

The tail of alle sorwe

Right so as the pennes of the pecok

Peyneth hym in his flight.

So is possession peyne

Of pens and of nobles,

To alle hem that it holdeth,

Til hir tail be plukked.

"And though the riche repente thanne

And bi-rewe the tyme

That evere he gadered so grete,

And gaf therof so litel;

Though he crye to Crist thanne

With kene wil, I leve,

His ledene be in oure Lordes ere

Like a pies chiteryng.

And whan his caroyne shal come

In cave to be buryed,

I leve it flawme ful foule

The fold al aboute,

And alle the othere ther it lith

Envenymeth thorugh his attre.

"By the po feet is understande,

As I have lerned in Avynet,

Executours false frendes

That fulfille noght his wille

That was writen and thei witnesse

To werche right as it wolde.

Thus the poete preveth that the pecok

For hise fetheres is reverenced,

Right so is the riche

By reson of hise goodes.

"The larke, that is a lasse fowel,

Is moore lovelich of ledene,

And wel a wey of wynge

Swifter than the pecok,

And of flessh by fele fold

Fatter and swetter;

To lowe libbynge men

The larke is resembled.

"Aristotle the grete clerk

Swiche tales he telleth.

Thus he likneth in his logik

The leeste fowel oute,

And wheither he be saaf or noght saaf

The sothe woot no clergie,

Ne of Sortes ne of Salomon

No scripture kan telle.

Ac God is so good, I hope,

That siththe he gaf hem wittes

To wissen us weyes therwith

That wissen us to be saved,

And the bettre for hir bokes

To bidden we ben holden,

That God for his grace

Gyve hir soules reste.

For lettred men were lewed men yet,

Ne were loore of hir bokes."

"Alle thise clerkes," quod I tho,

"That in Crist leven,

Seyen in hir sermons

That neither Sarsens ne Jewes

Ne no creature of Cristes liknesse

Withouten cristendom worth saved."

"Contra," quod Ymaginatif thoo,

And comsed for to loure;

And seide "Salvabitur

Vix justus in die judicii.

Ergo salvabitur," quod he,

And seide na-moore Latyn.

"Trojanus was a trewe knyght,

And took nevere Cristendom,

And he is saaf, so seith the book,

And his soule in hevene.

For ther is fullynge of font,

And fullynge in blood shedyng,

And thorugh fir is fullyng,

And that is ferme bileve.

Advenit ignis divinus non comburens,

sed illuminans, etc.

"Ac Truthe that trespased nevere,

Ne traversed ayeins his lawe,

But lyveth as his lawe techeth,

And leveth ther be no bettre;

And if ther were, he wolde amende,

And in swich wille deieth,

Ne wolde nevere trewe god,

But truthe were allowed,

And wheither it be worth or noght worth,

The bileve is gret of truthe,

And an hope hangynge therinne

To have a mede for his truthe.

For Deus dicitur quasi dans vitam

æternam suis, hoc est fidelibus.

Et alibi: Si ambulavero in

medio umbræ mortis.

"The glose graunteth upon that vers

A greet mede to Truthe,

And wit and wisdom," quod that wye,

"Was som tyme tresor

To kepe with a commune,

No catel was holde bettre,

And muche murthe and manhod;"

And right with that he vanysshed.