Passus Decimus Quintus, etc. finit Do-wel, et incipit Do-bet.

C after my wakynge,

Oon withouten tonge and teeth

Tolde me whider I sholde,

And wherof I cam, and of what kynde;

I conjured hym at the laste,

If he were Cristes creature

Anoon me to tellen.

"I am Cristes creature," quod he,

"And cristene in many a place,

In Cristes court y-knowe wel,

And of his kyn a party.

Is neither Peter the porter,

Nor Poul with his fauchon,

That wole defende me the dore,

Dynge I never so late;

At mydnyght, at mydday,

My vois so is knowe,

That ech a creature of his court

Welcometh me faire."

"What are ye called," quod I, "in that court,

Among Cristes peple?"

"The whiles I quikne the cors," quod he,

"Called am I Anima;

And whan I wilne and wolde,

Animus ich hatte;

And for that I kan knowe,

Called am I Mens;

And whan I make mone to God,

Memoria is my name;

And whan I deme domes,

And do as truthe techeth,

Thanne is Ratio my righte name,

Reson on Englisshe;

And whan I feele that folk telleth,

My firste name is Sensus,

And that is wit and wisdom,

The welle of alle craftes.

And whan I chalange or chalange noght,

Chepe or refuse,

Thanne am I Conscience y-called,

Goddes clerk and his notarie;

And whan I love leelly

Oure Lord and alle othere,

Thanne is lele Love my name,

And in Latyn Amor;

And whan I flee fro the flesshe,

And forsake the careyne,

Thanne am I a spirit specheless,

Spiritus thanne iche hatte.

Austyn and Ysodorus,

Either of hem bothe,

Nempnede me thus to name,

And now thow myght chese

How thow coveitest to calle me,

For now thow knowest my names."

Anima pro diversis actionibus diversa

nomina sortitur; dum

vivificat corpus, anima est;

dum vult, animus est; dum

scit, mens est; dum recolit,

memoria est; dum judicat,

ratio est; dum sentit, sensus

est; dum amat, amor est;

dum negat vel consentit, conscientia

est; dum spirat, spiritus

est.

"Ye ben as a bisshope," quod I,

Al bourdynge that tyme;

"For bisshopes y-blessed,

Thei bereth manye names,

Præsul and pontifex,

And metropolitanus,

And othere names an heep,

Episcopus and pastor."

"That is sooth," seide he;

"Now I se thi wille;

Thow woldest knowe and konne

The cause of alle my names,

And of me, if thow myghtest,

Me thynketh by thi speche."

"Ye, sire," I seide,

"By so no man were greved,

Alle the sciences under sonne,

And alle the sotile craftes,

I wolde I knewe and kouthe

Kyndely in myn herte."

"Thanne artow inparfit," quod he,

"And oon of Prides knyghtes;

For swich a lust and likyng

Lucifer fel from hevene."

Ponam pedem meum in aquilone, et

similis ero altissimo.

"It were ayeins kynde," quod he,

"And alle kynnes reson,

That any creature sholde konne al,

Except Crist oone:

Ayein swiche Salomon speketh,

And despiseth hir wittes,

And seith, Sicut qui mel comedit

multum, non est ei bonum; sic

qui scrutator est majestatis,

opprimitur a gloria.

"To Englisshe men this is to mene,

That mowen speke and here,

The man that muche hony eteth,

His mawe it engleymeth;

And the moore that a man

Of good matere hereth,

But he do therafter,

It dooth hym double scathe.

Beatus est, seith seint Bernard,

Qui scripturas legit,

Et verba vertit in opera

Fulliche to his power.

Coveitise to konne

And to knowe sciences,

Putte out of Paradis

Adam and Eve.

Scientiæ appetitus hominem inmortalitatis

gloria spoliavit.

"And right as hony is yvel to defie,

And engleymeth the mawe;

Right so he that thorugh reson

Wolde the roote knowe

Of God and of hise grete myghtes,

Hise graces it letteth.

For in the likynge lith a pride,

And licames coveitise,

Ayein Cristes counseil

And alle clerkes techynge;

That is Non plus sapere quam oportet sapere

"Freres and fele othere maistres,

That to lewed men prechen,

Ye moeven materes unmesurable

To tellen of the Trinité,

That ofte tymes the lewed peple

Of hir bileve doute.

Bettre it were to manye doctours

To leven swich techyng,

And tellen men of the ten comaundmentz,

And touchen the sevene synnes,

And of the braunches that burjoneth of hem,

And bryngen men to helle,

And how that folk in folies

Misspenden hir fyve wittes,

As wel freres as oother folk

Foliliche spenden

In housynge, in haterynge,

And in to heigh clergie shewynge,

Moore for pompe than for pure charité,

The peple woot the sothe,

That I lye noght, loo!

For lordes ye plesen,

And reverencen the riche

The rather for hir silver

Confundantur omnes qui adorant

sculptilia. Et alibi: Ut quid

diligitis vanitatem, et quæritis

mendacium.

"Gooth to the glose of thise vers,

Ye grete clerkes;

If I lye on yow to my lewed wit,

Ledeth me to brennyng.

For as it semeth, ye forsaketh

No mannes almesse

Of usurers, of hoores,

Of avarouse chapmen;

And louten to thise lordes

That mowen lene yow nobles,

Ayein youre rule and religion,

I take record at Jhesus,

That seide to hise disciples,

Ne sitis personarum acceptores.

Of this matere I myghte

Make a long bible!

Ac of curatours of cristen peple,

As clerkes bereth witnesse,

I shal tellen it, for truthes sake,

Take hede who so liketh.

"As holynesse and honesté

Out of holy chirche spredeth

Thorugh lele libbynge men

That Goddes lawe techen;

Right so out of holi chirche

Alle yveles spryngeth,

There inparfit preesthode is,

Prechours and techeris.

I se it by ensaunple

In somer tyme on trowes:

Ther some bowes ben leved,

And some bereth none,

Ther is a meschief in the morre

Of swiche manere bowes.

"Rightso bi persons and preestes,

And prechours of holi chirche,

That aren roote of the right feith

To rule the peple.

And ther the roote is roten,

Reson woot the sothe,

Shal nevere flour ne fruyt

Ne fair leef be greene.

For-thi wolde ye, lettrede, leve

The lecherie of clothyng;

And be kynde, as bifel for clerkes,

And curteise of Cristes goodes,

Trewe of youre tonge,

And of youre tail bothe,

And hatien to here harlotrie;

And noght to underfonge

Tithes, but of trewe thyng,

Y-tilied or chaffared;

Lothe were lewed men,

But thei youre loore folwede,

And amendeden hem that mysdoon

Moore for youre ensaumples,

Than for to prechen and preven it noght,

Ypocrisie it semeth;

The which in Latyn

Is likned to a dongehill

That were bi-snewed with snow,

And snakes withinne;

Or to a wal that were whit-lymed,

And were foul withinne;

"Right so manye preestes,

Prechours and prelates,

Ye aren enblaunched with bele paroles,

And with clothes also;

Ac youre werkes and youre wordes ther under,

Aren ful unloveliche.

Johannes Crisostomus

Of clerkes speketh and preestes;

Sicut de templo omne bonum progreditur,

sic de templo omne

malum procedit. Si sacerdotium

integrum fuerit, tota floret

ecclesia: si autem corruptum

fuerit, omnis fides marcida

est. Si sacerdotium fuerit

in peccatis, totus populus

convertitur ad peccandum. Sicut

cum videris arborem pallidam

et marcidam, intelligis

quod vitium habet in radice.

Ita cum videris populum indisciplinatum

et irreligiosum, sine

dubio sacerdotium ejus non est

sanum.

"If lewed men wiste

What this Latyn meneth,

And who was myn auctour,

Muche wonder me thinketh,

But if many a preest beere,

For hir baselardes and hir broches,

A peire of bedes in hir hand,

And a book under hir arme.

Sire Johan and sire Geffrey

Hath a girdel of silver.

A baselard or a ballok-knyf,

With botons over gilte;

Ac a porthors that sholde be his plow

Placebo to sigge,

Hadde he nevere service to save silver therto.

Seith it with ydel wille.

"Allas! ye lewed men,

Muche lese ye on preestes.

Ac thing that wikkedly is wonne,

And with false sleightes,

Wolde nevere the wit of witty God

But wikkede men it hadde,

The whiche arn preestes inparfite,

And prechours after silver,

Executours and sodenes,

Somonours and hir lemmannes;

That that with gile was geten,

Ungraciousliche is despended;

So harlotes and hores

Arn holpe with swiche goodes,

And Goddes folk, for defaute therof,

For-faren and spillen.

"Curatours of holy kirke,

As clerkes that ben avarouse,

Lightliche that thei leven,

Losels it habbeth,

Or deieth intestate,

And thanne the bisshope entreth

And maketh murthe thermyd,

And hise men bothe,

And seyen he was a nygard

That no good myghte aspare

To frend ne to fremmed,

The fend have his soule!

For a wrecchede hous held he

Al his lif tyme;

And that he spared and bisperede,

Dispende we in murthe;

By lered, by lewed,

That looth is to despende.

Thus goon hire goodes.

Be the goost faren.

Ac for goode men, God woot!

Greet doel men maken,

And bymeneth goode mete gyveres,

And in mynde haveth,

In preieres and in penaunces,

And in parfit charité."

"What is charité?" quod I tho.

"A childisshe thyng," he seide.

"Nisi efficiamini parvuli, non intrabitis

in regnum cælorum.

Withouten fauntelté or folie,

A fre liberal wille."

"Where sholde men fynde swich a frend,

With so fre an herte?"

"I have lyved in londe," quod he,

"My name is Longe-wille;

And fond I nevere ful charité

Byfore ne bihynde.

Men beth merciable

To mendinauntz and to poore,

And wollen lene ther thei leve

Lelly to ben paied.

Ac charité that Poul preiseth best,

And moost plesaunt to oure Lord,

Is Non inflatur, non est ambitiosa, non

quærit quæ sua sunt, etc.

"I seigh nevere swich a man,

So me God helpe!

That he ne wolde aske after his,

And outher while coveite

Thyng that neded hym noght,

And nyme it, if he myghte.

"Clerkes kenne me

That Crist is in alle places;

Ac I seigh hym nevere soothly,

But as myself in a mirour:

In ænigmate tunc facie ad faciem.

And so I trowe trewely,

By that men telleth of charité,

It is noght chaumpions fight,

Ne chaffare, as I trowe,

"Charité," quod he, "ne chaffareth noght,

Ne chalangeth, ne craveth;

As proud of a peny,

As of a pound of golde;

And is as glad of a gowne

Of a gray russet,

As of a tunycle of Tarse,

Or of trie scarlet.

He is glad with alle glade,

And good til alle wikkede,

And leveth and loveth alle

That oure Lord made.

Corseth he no creature,

Ne he kan bere no wrathe,

Ne no likynge hath to lye,

Ne laughe men to scorne;

Al that men seyn, he leet it sooth,

And in solace taketh,

And alle manere meschiefs

In myldenesse he suffreth.

Coveiteth he noon erthely good,

But hevene riche blisse,

Hath he anye rentes or richesse,

Or anye riche frendes.

"Of rentes nor of richesse

Ne rekketh he nevere;

For a frend that fyndeth hym,

Failed hym nevere at neede.

Fiat voluntas tua

Fynt hym evere moore;

And if he soupeth, eteth but a sop

Of spera in Deo.

He kan portreye wel the paternoster,

And peynte it with aves;

And outher while he is woned

To wenden on pilgrymages,

Ther poore men and prisons liggeth,

Hir pardon to have.

Though he bere hem no breed,

He bereth hem swetter liflode,

Loveth hem as oure Lord biddeth,

And loketh how thei fare.

"And whan he is wery of that werk,

Than wole he som tyme

Labouren in lavendrye

Wel the lengthe of a mile,

And yerne into youthe,

And yepeliche speke

Pride with al the appurtenaunces,

And pakken hem togideres,

And bouken hem at his brest,

And beten hem clene,

And leggen on longe,

With laboravi in gemitu meo;

And with warm water at hise eighen

Wasshen hem after.

And thanne he syngeth whan he doth so,

And som tyme seith wepynge,

Cor contritum et humiliatum, Deus,

non despicies."

"By Crist! I wolde that I knewe hym," quod I,

"No creature levere!"

"Withouten help of Piers Plowman," quod he,

"His persone sestow nevere."

"Wheither clerkes knowen hym," quod I,

"That kepen holi kirke?"

"Clerkes have no knowyng," quod he,

"But by werkes and by wordes.

Ac Piers the Plowman

Parceyveth moore depper

What is the wille and wherfore

That many wight suffreth.

Et vidit Deus cogitationes eorum.

For ther are ful proude herted men,

Pacient of tonge,

And buxome as of berynge

To burgeises and to lordes,

And to poore peple

Han pepir in the nose,

And as a lyoun he loketh,

Ther men lakken hise werkes.

"For ther are beggeris and bidderis,

Bedemen as it were,

Loken as lambren,

And semen ful holy;

Ac it is moore to have hir mete

With swich an esy manere,

Than for penaunce and perfitnesse,

The poverte that swiche taketh.

"Therfore by colour ne by clergie

Knowe shaltow nevere,

Neither thorugh wordes ne werkes,

But thorugh wil oone.

And that knoweth no clerk,

Ne creature on erthe,

But Piers the Plowman

Petrus, i. Christus.

For he nys noght in lolleris,

Ne in lond leperis heremytes,

Ne at ancres there a box hangeth,

Alle swiche thei faiten.

Fy on faitours,

And in fautores suos!

For charité is Goddes champion,

And as a good child hende,

And the murieste of mouth

At mete where he sitteth.

The love that lith in his herte

Maketh hym light of speche,

And is compaignable and confortatif,

As Crist bit hymselve.

Nolite fieri sicut hypocritæ tristes, etc.

For I have seyen hym in silk,

And som tyme in russet,

Bothe in grey and in grys,

And in gilt harneis;

And as gladliche he it gaf

To gomes that it neded.

"Edmond and Edward

Bothe were kynges,

And seintes y-set,

For charité hem folwede.

"I have y-seyen charité also

Syngen and reden,

Riden and rennen

In raggede wedes;

Ac biddynge as beggeris

Biheld I hym nevere.

Ac in riche robes

Rathest he walketh,

Y-called and y-crymyled,

And his crowne y-shave;

And in a freres frokke

He was y-founden ones,

Ac it is fern ago,

In seint Fraunceis tyme:

In that secte siththe

To selde hath he ben founde.

"Riche men he recomendeth,

And of hir robes taketh,

That withouten wiles

Ledeth hir lyves.

Beatus est dives qui, etc.

"In kynges court he cometh ofte,

Ther the counseil is trewe;

Ac if coveitise be of the counseil,

He wolnoght come therinne,

"In court amonges japeris

He cometh noght but selde,

For braulynge and bakbitynge,

And berynge of fals witnesse.

"In the consistorie bifore the commissarie

He cometh noght but ofte;

For hir lawe dureth over longe,

But if thei lacchen silver,

And matrimoyne for moneie

Maken and unmaken;

And that conscience and Crist

Hath y-knyt faste,

Thei undoon it unworthily,

Tho doctours of lawe.

"Ac I ne lakke no lif,

But, Lord, amende us alle,

And gyve us grace, good God,

Charité to folwe.

For who so myghte meete myd hym,

Swiche maneres hym eileth,

Neither he blameth ne banneth,

Bosteth ne preiseth,

Lakketh ne loseth,

Ne loketh up sterne,

Craveth ne coveiteth,

Ne crieth after moore.

In pace in idipsum dormiam, etc.

"The mooste liflode that he lyveth by,

Is love in Goddes passion;

Neither he biddeth ne beggeth,

Ne borweth to yelde,

Misdooth he no man,

Ne with his mouth greveth.

"Amonges cristene men

This myldenesse sholde laste.

In alle manere angres

Have this at herte,

That theigh thei suffrede al this,

God suffrede for us moore,

In ensample we sholde do so,

And take no vengeaunce

Of oure foes that dooth us falsnesse,

That is oure fadres wille.

"For wel may every man wite,

If God hadde wold hymselve,

Sholde nevere Judas ne Jew

Have Jhesu doon on roode,

Ne han martired Peter ne Poul,

Ne in prison holden.

Ac he suffrede in ensample

That we sholde suffren also,

And seide to swiche that suffre wolde,

That patientes vincunt.

"Verbi gratia," quod he,

"And verray ensamples manye,

In Legenda Sanctorum,

The lif of holy seintes,

What penaunce and poverte

And passion thei suffrede,

In hunger, in hete,

In alle manere angres.

"Antony and Egidie,

And othere holy fadres,

Woneden in wildernesse

Among wilde beestes;

Monkes and mendinauntz,

Men by hemselve,

In spekes and in spelonkes,

Selde speken togideres.

"Ac neither Antony ne Egidie,

Ne heremyte that tyme,

Of leons ne of leopardes

No liflode ne toke;

But of foweles that fleeth,

Thus fyndeth men in bokes.

Except that Egidie

After an hynde cride,

And thorugh the mylk of that mylde beest

The man was sustened;

And day bi day hadde he hire noght

His hunger for to slake,

But selden and sondry tymes,

As seith the book and techeth.

"Antony a dayes,

Aboute noon tyme,

Hadde a brid that broughte hym breed,

That he by lyvede;

And though the gome hadde a gest,

God fond hem bothe.

"Poul primus heremita

Hadde parroked hymselve,

That no man myghte hym se

For mosse and for leves;

Foweles hym fedde

Fele wyntres withalle,

Til he foundede freres

Of Austynes ordre.

Poul, after his prechyng,

Paniers he made,

And wan with hise hondes

That his wombe neded.

"Peter fisshed for his foode,

And his felawe Andrew;

Som thei solde and som thei soden,

And so thei lyved bothe.

"And also Marie Maudeleyne

By mores lyvede and dewes

Ac moost thorugh devocion

And mynde of God almyghty.

I sholde noght thise seven daies

Siggen hem alle,

That lyveden thus for oure Lordes love

Many longe yeres.

"Ac ther ne was leon ne leopard

That on laundes wenten,

Neither bere ne boor,

Ne oother beest wilde,

That ne fil to hir feet,

And fawned with the taillies;

And if thei kouthe han y-carped,

By Crist! as I trowe,

Thei wolde have y-fed that folk

Bifore wild foweles.

Ac God sente hem foode by foweles,

And by no fierse beestes,

In menynge that meke thyng

Mylde thyng sholde fede.

"Ac who seith religiouses

Rightfulle men sholde fede,

And lawefulle men to lif-holy men

Liflode sholde brynge;

And thanne wolde lordes and ladies

Be looth to agulte,

And to taken of hir tenauntz

Moore than trouthe wolde,

Foulde thei that freres

Wolde forsake hir almesses,

And bidden hem bere it

There it was y-borwed.

For we ben Goddes foweles,

And abiden alwey

Til briddes brynge us

That we sholde lyve by.

For hadde ye potage and payn y-nogh,

And peny ale to drynke,

And a mees thermyd

Of o maner kynde,

Ye hadde right y-nogh, ye religiouse,

And so youre rule me tolde.

Nunquam, dicit Job, rugit onager

cum herbam habuerit, aut mugiet

bos cum ante plenum præsepe

steterit. Brutorum animalium

natura te condemnat,

quia cum eis pabulum commune

sufficiat, ex adipe prodiit iniquitas tua.

"If lewed men knewe this Latyn,

Thei wolde loke whom thei yeve,

And avisen hem bifore

A fyve dayes or sixe,

Er thei amortisede to monkes

Or chanons hir rente.

Allas! lordes and ladies,

Lewed counseil have ye,

To gyve from youre heires

That youre aiels yow lefte,

And gyveth it to bidde for yow

Fo swiche that ben riche,

And ben founded and feffed ek

To bidde for othere.

"Who perfourneth this prophecie

Of the peple that now libbeth?

Dispersit, dedit pauperibus.

"If any peple perfourne that text,

It are thise poore freres;

For that thei beggen aboute,

In buyldynge thei spende it,

And on hemself som,

And swiche as ben hir laborers;

And of hem that habbeth thei taken,

And gyveth hem that habbeth.

"Ac clerkes and knyghtes,

And communers that ben riche,

Fele of yow fareth

As if I a forest hadde

That were ful of faire trees,

And I fondede and caste

How I myghte mo therinne

Amonges hem sette.

"Right so, ye riche,

Ye robeth that ben riche,

And helpeth hem that helpeth yow,

And gyveth ther no nede is.

As who so filled a toune

Of a fressh ryver,

And wente forth with that water

To woke with Temese;

Right so, ye riche,

Ye robeth and fedeth

Hem that han as ye han,

Hem ye make at ese.

"Ac religiouse that riche ben,

Sholde rather feeste beggeris

Than burgeises that riche ben,

As the book techeth.

Quia sacrilegium est res pauperum

non pauperibus dare. Item:

Peccatoribus dare, est dæmonibus

immolare. Item: Monache,

si indiges et accipis, potius

das quam accipis; si autem

non eges et accipis, rapis.

Porro non indiget monachus, si

habeat quod naturæ sufficit.

"For-thi I counseille alle cristene

To conformen hem to charité,

For charité withouten chalangynge

Unchargeth the soule,

And many a prison fram purgatorie

Thorugh his preieres he delivereth.

Ac ther is a defaute in the folk

That the feith kepeth;

Wherfore folk is the febler,

And noght ferm of bileve,

As in lussheburwes is a luther alay,

And yet loketh he lik a sterlyng;

The merk of that monee is good,

Ac the metal is feble.

"And so it fareth by som folk now,

Thei han a fair speche,

Crowne and cristendom,

The kynges mark of hevene;

Ac the metal, that is mannes soule,

With synne is foule alayed.

Bothe lettred and lewed

Beth alayed now with synne,

That no lif loveth oother,

Ne oure Lord, as it semeth.

For thorugh werre and wikkede werkes,

And wederes unresonable,

Weder-wise shipmen,

And witty clerkes also,

Han no bileve to the lifte,

Ne to the loore of philosofres.

"Astronomiens al day

In hir art faillen,

That whilom warned bifore

What sholde falle after.

"Shipmen and shepherdes,

That with ship and sheep wenten,

Wisten by the walkne

What sholde bitide,

As of wedres and wyndes

Thei warned men ofte.

"Tilieris, that tiled the erthe,

Tolden hir maistres,

By the seed that thei sewe,

What thei selle myghte,

And what to lene, and what to lyve by,

The lond was so trewe.

"Now faileth the folk of the flood,

And of the lond bothe,

Shepherdes and shipmen,

And so do thise tilieris,

Neither thei konneth ne knoweth

Oon cours bifore another.

"Astronomyens also

Aren at hir wittes ende,

Of that was calculed of the element

The contrarie thei fynde;

Grammer, the ground of al,

Bigileth now children,

For is noon of this newe clerkes,

Who so nymeth hede,

Naught oon among an hundred

That an auctour kan construwe,

Ne rede a lettre in any langage

But in Latyn or in Englissh.

"Go now to any degree,

And but if gile be maister,

And flaterere his felawe

Under hym to fourmen,

Muche wonder me thynketh

Amonges us alle,

Doctours of decrees

And of divinité maistres,

That sholde konne and knowe

Alle kynnes clergie,

And answere to argumentz,

And also to a quodlibet;

I dar noght siggen it for shame,

If swiche were apposed,

Thei sholde faillen of her philosophie,

And in phisik bothe.

"Wherfore I am a-fered

Of folk of holy kirke,

Lest thei overhuppen, as oothere doon,

In office and in houres;

And if they overhuppe, as I hope noght,

Oure bileve suffiseth;

As clerkes in Corpus Christi feeste

Syngen and reden,

That sola fides sufficit

To save with lewed peple;

And so may Sarzens be saved,

Scribes, and Jewes.

"Allas, thanne! but our looresmen

Lyve as thei leren us,

And for hir lyvynge that lewed men

Be the lother God agulten.

For Sarzens han somwhat

Semynge to oure bileve;

For thei love and bileve

In o persone almyghty,

And we, lered and lewed,

In oon God almyghty;

And oon Makometh, a man,

In mysbileve broughte

Sarzens of Surree,

And see in what manere.

"This Makometh was a cristene

And for he moste noght ben a pope

Into Surrie he soughte,

And thorugh hise sotile wittes

He daunted a dowve,

And day and nyght hire fedde,

The corn that she croppede

He caste it in his ere;

And if he among the peple preched,

Or in places come,

Thanne wolde the colvere come

To the clerkes ere

Menynge as after mete,—

Thus Makometh hire enchauntede;

And dide folk thanne falle on knees,

For he swoor in his prechyng

That the colvere that com so,

Com from God of hevene,

As messager to Makometh,

Men for to teche.

And thus thorugh wiles of his wit,

And a whit dowve,

Makometh in mysbileve

Men and wommen broughte;

That lyved tho there and lyve yit

Leeven on hise lawes.

"And siththe oure Saveour suffred,

The Sarzens so bigiled

Thorugh a cristene clerk,

Acorsed in his soule!

For drede of the deeth

I dare noght telle truthe,

How Englisshe clerkes a colvere fede

That coveitise highte,

And ben manered after Makometh,

That no man useth trouthe.

"Ancres and heremytes,

And monkes and freres,

Peeren to the apostles

Thorugh hire parfit lyvynge;

Wolde nevere the feithful fader

That hise ministres sholde

Of tirauntz that teneth trewe men

Taken any almesse,

But doon as Antony dide,

Dominyk and Fraunceys,

Beneit and Bernard

The whiche hem first taughte

To lyve by litel, and in lowe houses,

By lele mennes almesse.

Grace sholde growe and be grene

Thorugh hir goode lyvynge;

And folkes sholden fare,

That ben in diverse siknesse,

The bettre for hir biddynges

In body and in soule.

Hir preieres and hir penaunces

To pees sholde brynge

Alle that ben at debaat,

And bedemen were trewe.

Petite et accipietis, etc.

Salt saveth the catel,

Siggen thise wives.

Vos estis sal terræ, etc.

The hevedes of holy chirche,

And thei holy were,

Crist calleth hem salt

For cristene soules.

Et si sal evanuerit in quo salietur, etc.

"For fressh flessh outher fissh,

Whan it salt failleth,

It is unsavory for sothe,

Y-soden or y-bake;

So is mannes soule, soothly,

That seeth no goode ensamples

Of hem of holi chirche,

That the heighe wey sholde teche,

And be gide, and go bifore,

As a good banyer;

And hardie hem that bihynde ben,

And gyve hem good evidence.

"Ellevene holy men

Al the world tornede

Into lele bileve;

The lightloker me thinketh

Sholde all maner men,

We han so manye maistres,

Preestes and prechours,

And a pope above,

That Goddes salt sholde be

To save mannes soule.

"Al was hethynesse som tyme

Engelond and Walis,

Til Gregory garte clerkes

To go here and preche;

Austyn at Caunterbury

Cristnede the kyng,

And thorugh miracles, as men now rede,

Al that marche he tornede

To Crist and to cristendom,

And cros to honoure;

And follede folk faste,

And the feith taughte,

Moore thorugh miracles

Than thorugh muche prechyng,

As wel thorugh hise werkes

As with hise holy wordes,

And seide hem what fullynge

And feith was to mene.

"Clooth that cometh fro the wevyng

Is noght comly to were,

Til it be fulled under foot

Or in fullyng stokkes,

Wasshen wel with water,

And with taseles cracched,

Y-touked and y-teynted,

And under taillours hande;

Right so it fareth by a barn,

That born is of a wombe,

Til it be cristned in Cristes name,

And confermed of the bisshope,

It is hethene as to hevene-ward.

And help-lees to the soule.

Hethen is to mene after heeth

And untiled erthe,

As in wilde wildernesse

Wexeth wilde beestes,

Rude and unresonable,

Rennynge withouten cropiers.

"Ye mynnen wel how Mathew seith,

How a man made a feste;

He fedde him with no venyson,

Ne fesauntz y-bake,

But with foweles that fram hym nolde,

But folwede his whistlyng.

Ecce altilia mea, et omnia parata sunt.

And with calves flessh he fedde

The folk that he lovede.

"The calf bitokneth clennesse

In hem that kepeth lawes.

For as the cow thorugh kynde mylk

The calf norisseth til an oxe;

So love and leauté

Lele men susteneth,

And maidenes and mylde men

Mercy desiren,

Right as the cow calf

Coveiteth melk swete,

So doon rightfulle men

Mercy and truthe.

"Ac who beth that excuseth hem

That ben persons and preestes,

That hevedes of holy chirche ben,

That han hir wil here

Withouten travaille the tithe deel

That trewe men biswynken;

Thei wol be wrooth for I write thus,

Ac to witnesse I take

Bothe Mathew and Marc,

And Memento Domine David.

"What pope or prelat now

Perfourneth that Crist highte.

Ite in universum mundum et prædicate, etc.

"Allas! that men so longe

On Makometh sholde bileve,

So manye prelates to preche

As the pope maketh,

Of Nazareth, of Nynyve,

Of Neptalym and Damaske,

That thei ne wente as Crist wisseth,

Sithen thei wille have name

To be pastours and preche

To lyve and to dye.

Bonus pastor animam suam ponit, etc.

And seide it in salvacion

Of Sarzens and othere,

For cristene and uncristene

Crist seide to prechours:

Ite vos in vineam meam, etc.

"And sith that thise Sarzens,

Scribes, and Jewes,

Han a lippe of our bileve,

The lightlier me thynketh

Thei sholde turne, who so travailed

To teche hem of the Trinité.

Quærite et invenietis, etc.

"It is ruthe to rede

How rightwise men lyvede,

How thei defouled hir flessh,

Forsoke hir owene wille,

Fer fro kyth and fro kyn

Yvele y-clothed yeden,

Baddely y-bedded,

No book but conscience,

Ne no richesse but the roode

To rejoisse hem inne.

Absit nobis gloriari nisi in cruce

Domini nostri, etc.

"And tho was plentee and pees

Amonges poore and riche,

And now is routhe to rede

How the rede noble

Is reverenced er the roode,

And receyved for worthier

Than Cristes cros, that overcam

Deeth and dedly synne.

And now is werre and wo;

And who so why asketh,

For coveitise after cros

The croune stant in golde.

Bothe riche and religious

That roode thei honoure

That in grotes is y-grave

And in gold nobles.

For coveitise of that cros,

Men of holy kirke

Shul torne as templers dide,

The tyme approcheth faste.

"Wite ye noght, ye wise men,

How tho men honoured

Moore tresor than trouthe,

I dar noght telle the sothe,

Reson and rightful doom

The religiouse demede.

"Right so, ye clerkes,

For youre coveitise, er longe,

Shal thei demen dos ecclesiæ,

And youre pride depose,

Deposuit potentes de sede, etc.

"If knyghthod and kynde wit

And the commune by conscience

Togideres love leelly,

Leveth it wel, ye bisshopes,

The lordshipe of youre londes

For evere shul ye lese,

And lyven as levitici,

As oure Lord techeth.

Per primitias et decimas, etc.

"Whan Costantyn of curteisie

Holy kirke dowed

With londes and ledes,

Lordshipes and rentes,

An aungel men herden

An heigh at Rome crye,

Dos ecclesiæ this day

Hath y-dronke venym,

And tho that han Petres power

Arn apoisoned alle.

"A medicyne moot therto,

That may amende prelates,

That sholden preie for the pees,

Possession hem letteth;

Taketh hire landes, ye lordes,

And leteth hem lyve by dymes.

"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.

"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.

Thus in a feith leve that folk,

And in a fals mene;

And that is routhe for rightful men

That in the reawme wonyen,

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,

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,

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,

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,

And hem that shul come after us.

"And Jewes lyven in lele lawe,

Oure Lord wroot it hymselve

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

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,

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,

And struyden hemselve;

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,

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.

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."