Front matter (continued 2)

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

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

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

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

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

"Crucifige!" quod a cachepol; "I warrante hym a wicche."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Adam afterward Ayeins his defence Freet of that fruyt, And forsook, as it weere, 12470 The love of oure Lord And his loore bothe, And folwede that the fend taughte, And his felawes wille, Ayeins reson and rightwisnesse, Recorde thus with truthe, That hir peyne be perpetuel, And no preiere hem helpe. For-thi lat hem chewe as thei chosen, And chide we noght, sustres; 12480 For it is bote-lees bale, The byte that thei eten."

"And I shal preve," quod Pees, "Hir peyne moot have ende, And from wo into wele Mowe wenden at the laste. For hadde thei wist of no wo, Wele hadde the noght knowen. For no wight woot what wele is, That nevere wo suffrede; 12490 Ne what is hoot hunger, That hadde nevere defaute.

"If no nyght ne weere, No man, as I leeve, Sholde nevere wite witterly What day is to meene. Sholde nevere right riche man, That lyveth in reste and ese, Wite what wo is, Ne were the deeth of kynde.

12500 "So God, that bigan al Of his goode wille, Bicam man of a mayde Mankynde to save; And suffrede to be sold, To se the sorwe of deying, The which unknytteth alle care, And comsynge is of reste. For til modicum mete with us, I may it wel avowe, 12510 Woot no wight, as I wene, What y-nogh is to mene.

"For-thi God of his goodnesse The firste gome Adam Sette hym in solace, And in sovereyn murthe; And siththe he suffred hym synne, Sorwe to feele, To wite what wele was Kyndeliche and knowe it. 12520 And after God auntrede hymself, And took Adames kynde, To wite what he hath suffred In thre sondry places, Bothe in hevene and in erthe, And now til helle he thenketh To wite what alle wo is, And what is alle joye.

"So it shal fare by this folk, Hir folie and hir synne 12530 Shal lere hem what langour is And lisse withouten ende. Woot no wight what werre is Ther that pees regneth, Ne what is witterly wele Til weylawey! hym teche."

Thanne was ther a wight With two brode eighen, Book highte that beau-peere, A bold man of speche; 12540 "By Goddes body!" quod this Book, "I wol bere witnesse That tho this barn was y-bore, Ther blased a sterre That alle the wise of this world In o wit acorden, That swich a barn was y-bore In Bethleem the citee, That mannes soule sholde save, And synne destroye. 12550 And alle the elementz," quod the Book, "Herof beren witnesse, That he was God that al wroghte, The wolkne first shewed.

"Tho that weren in hevene Token stella cometa, And tendeden it as a torche To reverencen his burthe; The light folwede the Lord Into the lowe erthe.

12560 "The water witnessed that he was God, For he wente on it. Peter the apostel Parceyved his gate, And as he wente on the water, Wel hym knew, and seide, Jube me venire ad te super aquas.

"And lo! how the sonne gan louke Hire light in hirselve, Whan she seigh hym suffre, 12570 That sonne and see made.

"The erthe for hevynesse That he wolde suffre, Quaked as quyk thyng, And al biquasshed the roche.

"Lo! helle myghte nat holde, But opnede tho God tholede, And leet out Symondes sone To seen hym hange on roode. And now shal Lucifer leve it, 12580 Though hym looth thynke; For Gigas the geaunt With a gyn hath engyned To breke and to bete a-doun That ben ayeins Jhesus. And I, Book, wole be brent, But Jhesus rise to lyve In alle myghtes of man, And his moder gladie, And conforte al his kyn 12590 And out of care brynge, And al the Jewene joye Unjoynen and unlouken, And but thei reversen his roode, And his resurexion, And bileve on a newe lawe, Be lost lif and soule."

"Suffre we," seide Truthe; "I here and see bothe How a spirit speketh to helle, 12600 And biddeth unspere the yates." Attolite portas, etc.

A vois loude in that light To Lucifer crieth, "Prynces of this place, Unpynneth and unlouketh! For here cometh with crowne That kyng is of glorie."

Thanne sikede Sathan, And seide to hem alle, 12610 "Swich a light ayeins oure leve Lazar out fette; Care and encombraunce Is comen to us alle! If this kyng come in, Mankynde wole he fecche, And lede it ther hym liketh, And lightliche me bynde. Patriarkes and Prophetes Han parled herof longe, 12620 That swich a lord and light Sholde lede hem alle hennes."

"Listneth," quod Lucifer, "For I this lord knowe. Bothe this lord and this light, Is longe a-go I knew hym. May no deeth hym dere, Ne no develes queyntise; And where he wole is his wey, Ac ware hym of the perils. 12630 If he reveth me my right, He robbeth me by maistrie; For by right and by reson The renkes that ben here Body and soule beth myne, Bothe goode and ille. For hymself seide, That sire is of hevene, If Adam ete the appul, Alle sholde deye 12640 And dwelle with us develes; This thretynge he made. And he that soothnesse is, Seide thise wordes. And sithen I seised Sevene hundred wynter, I leeve that lawe nyl noght Lete hym the leeste."

"That is sooth," seide Sathan; "But I me soore drede. 12650 For thow gete hem with gile, And his gardyn breke, And in semblaunce of a serpent Sete upon the appul-tree, And eggedest hem to ete, Eve by hirselve; And toldest hire a tale, Of treson were the wordes; And so thow haddest hem out, And hider at the laste. 12660 It is noght graithly geten, Ther gile is the roote. For God wol noght be bi-giled," Quod Gobelyn, "ne by-japed; We have no trewe title to hem, = For thorugh treson were thei dampned."

"Certes, I drede me," quod the devel, "Lest Truthe wol hem fecche; Thise thritty wynter, as I wene, 12670 Hath he gon and preched. I have assailled hym with synne, And som tyme y-asked Wheither he were God or Goddes sone; He yaf me short answere. And thus hath he trolled forth Thise two and thritty wynter. And whan I seigh it was so, Lepynge I wente To warne Pilates wif 12680 What done man was Jhesus. For Jewes hateden hym, And han doon hym to dethe. I wolde have lengthed his lif; For I leved if he deide, That his soule wolde suffre No synne in his sighte. For the body, while it on bones yede, Aboute was evere To save men from synne, 12690 If hemself wolde. And now I se wher a soule Cometh hiderward seillynge, With glorie and with gret light,— God it is, I woot wel. I rede that we fle," quod he, "Faste alle hennes; For us were bettre noght be, Than biden his sighte. For thi lesynges, Lucifer, 12700 Lost is al oure praye.

"First thorugh the we fellen Fro hevene so heighe, For we leved on thi lesynges; Y-lorn we have Adam, And al oure lordshipe, I leve, A-londe and a-watre." Nunc princeps hujus mundi ejicietur foras.

Eft the light bad unlouke; And Lucifer answerede, 12710 "What lord artow?" quod Lucifer. Quis est iste? "Rex Gloriæ," The light soone seide, "And lord of myght and of man, And alle manere vertues. Dominus virtutum. Dukes of this dymme place, Anoon undo thise yates, That Crist may come in, 12720 The kynges sone of hevene!"

And with that breeth helle brak, With Belialles barres, For any wye or warde, Wide opned the yates.

Patriarkes and prophetes, Populus in tenebris, Songen seint Johanes song, Ecce agnus Dei. Lucifer loke ne myghte, 12730 So light hym a-blente.

And tho that oure Lord lovede Into his light he laughte; And seide to Sathan, "Lo! here my soule to amendes For alle synfulle soules, To save tho that ben worthi. Myne thei ben and of me, I may the bet hem cleyme. And though Reson recorde 12740 And Right, of myselve, That if he ete the appul Alle sholde deye; I bi-highte hem noght here Helle for evere. For the dede that thei dide, Thi deceite it made; With gile thow hem gete, Ageyn alle reson. For in my paleis Paradis, 12750 In persone of an addre, Falsliche thow fettest Thyng that I lovede.

"Thus y-lik a lusard, With a lady visage, Thefliche thow me robbedest; And the olde lawe graunteth That gilours be bigiled, And that is good reson. = Dentem pro dente et oculum pro oculo. 12761 Ergo soule shal soule quyte, And synne to synne wende, And al that man hath mys-do I, man, wole amende; Membre for membre By the olde lawe was amendes, And lif for lif also, And by that lawe I clayme it, Adam and al his issue 12770 At my wille herafter, And that deeth in hem for-dide My deeth shal releve, And bothe quykne and quyte That queynt was thorugh synne. And that grace gile destruye, Good feith it asketh. So leve I noght, Lucifer, Ayein the lawe I fecche hem; But by right and by reson 12780 Raunsone here my liges. = Non veni solvere legem, sed adimplere.

"Thow fettest myne in my place Ayeins alle reson, Falsliche and felonliche; Good feith me it taughte, To recovere hem thorugh raunson, And by no reson ellis. So that thorugh gile thow gete, 12790 Thorugh grace it is y-wonne. Thow Lucifer in liknesse Of a luther addere Getest bi gile Tho that God lovede.

"And I in liknesse of a leode, That lord am of hevene, Graciousliche thi gile have quyt; Go gile ayein gile. And as Adam and alle 12800 Thorugh a tree deyden; Adam and alle thorugh a tree Shul turne ayein to lyve; And gile is bi-giled, And in his gile fallen. Et cecidit in foveam quam fecit.

"Now bi-gynneth thi gile Ageyn thee to turne, And my grace to growe Ay gretter and widder; 12810 That art doctour of deeth, Drynk that thow madest.

"For I that am lord of lif, Love is my drynke; And for that drynke to-day I deide upon erthe. I faught so, me thursteth yit, For mannes soule sake; May no drynke me moiste, Ne my thurst slake, 12820 Til the vendage falle In the vale of Josaphat, That I drynke right ripe must, Resurrectio mortuorum; And thanne shal I come as a kyng, Crouned with aungeles, And have out of helle Alle mennes soules.

"Fendes and fyndekynes Bifore me shul stande, 12830 And be at my biddyng Wher so evere me liketh; And to be merciable to man Thanne my kynde asketh. For we beth bretheren of blood, But noght in baptisme alle. Ac alle that beth myne hole bretheren In blood and in baptisme. Shul noght be dampned to the deeth That is withouten ende. 12840 Tibi soli peccavi, etc.

"It is noght used in erthe, To hangen a feloun Ofter than ones, Though he were a tretour. And if the kyng of that kyngdom Come in that tyme There feloun thole sholde Deeth or oother juwise, Lawe wolde he yeve hym lif, 12850 If he loked on hym. And I, that am kyng of kynges, Shal come swich a tyme Ther doom to the deeth Dampneth alle the wikked; And if lawe wole I loke on hem, It lith in my grace Wheither thei deye or deye noght For that thei diden ille; Be it any thyng a-bought 12860 The boldnesse of hir synnes, I do mercy thorugh rightwisnesse, And alle my wordes trewe; And though holy writ wole that I be wroke Of hem that diden ille,— Nullum malum impunitum, etc.— Thei shul be clensed clerliche, And wasshen of hir synnes, In my prisone Purgatorie, Til parce it hote, 12870 And my mercy shal be shewed To manye of my bretheren. For blood may suffre blood, Bothe hungry and a-cale; Ac blood may noght se blood Blede, but hym rewe. Audivi arcana verba quæ non licet homini loqui.

"Ac my rightwisnesse and right Shul rulen al helle, 12880 And mercy al mankynde Bifore me in hevene. For I were an unkynde kyng, But I my kynde helpe, And nameliche at swich a nede. Ther nedes help bihoveth. = Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo.

"Thus by lawe," quod oure Lord, "Lede I wole fro hennes 12890 Tho that me lovede And leved in my comynge. And for thi lesynge, Lucifer, That thow leighe til Eve, Thow shalt abyen it bittre;"— And bond hym with cheynes. Astroth and al the route Hidden hem in hernes; They dorste noght loke on oure Lord, The boldeste of hem alle, 12900 But leten hym lede forth whom hym liked, And lete whom hym liste.

Manye hundred of aungeles Harpeden and songen, Culpat caro, purgat caro, Regnat Deus Dei caro.

Thanne pipede Pees Of Poesie a note, = Clarior est solito post maxima nebula Phœbus, 12910 Post inimicitias, etc.

"After sharpe shoures," quod Pees, "Moost shene is the sonne; Is no weder warmer Than after watry cloudes; Ne no love levere, Ne lever frendes, Than after werre and wo, Whan Love and Pees ben maistres. Was nevere werre in this world, 12920 Ne wikkednesse so kene, That ne Love, and hym liste, To laughynge ne broughte, And pees thorugh pacience Alle perils stoppeth."

"Trewes," quod Truthe; "Thow tellest us sooth, by Jhesus! Clippe we in covenaunt, And ech of us clippe oother." "And leteth no peple," quod Pees, 12930 "Perceyve that we chidde. For inpossible is no thyng To hym that is almyghty."

"Thow seist sooth," quod Rightwisnesse; And reverentliche hire kiste. "Pees and pees here! Per sæcula sæculorum." Misericordia et veritas obviaverunt sibi, justitia et pax osculatæ sunt.

Truthe trumpede tho, 12940 And song Te Deum laudamus; And thanne lutede, In a loud note, Ecce quam bonum et quam jocundum, etc.

Til the day dawed Thise damyseles dauncede, That men rongen to the resurexion. And right with that I wakede, And callede Kytte my wif, And Calote my doghter; 12950 And bad hem rise and reverence Goddes resurexion; And crepe to the cros on knees, And kisse it for a juwel, For Goddes blissede body It bar for oure boote; And it a-fereth the fend, For swich is the myghte, May no grisly goost 12959 Glide there it walketh.

Passus Decimus Nonus, explicit Do-bet, et incipit Do-best.

12960 HUS I awaked and wroot What I hadde y-dremed; And dighte me derely, And dide me to chirche, To here holly the masse, And to be housled after.

In myddes of the masse, Tho men yede to offryng, I fel eft-soones a-slepe; And sodeynly me mette 12970 That Piers the Plowman Was peynted al blody, And com in with a cros Bifore the comune peple, And right lik in alle thynges To oure Lord Jhesus.

And thanne called I Conscience, To kenne me the sothe; "Is this Jhesus the justere," quod I, "That Jewes dide to dethe? 12980 Or it is Piers the Plowman. Who peynted hym so rede?"

Quod Conscience, and kneled tho, "Thise arn Piers armes, Hise colours and his cote armure; Ac he that cometh so blody Is Crist with his cros, Conquerour of cristene."

"Why calle hym Crist," quod I, "Sithen Jewes calle hym Jhesus? 12990 Patriarkes and prophetes Prophecied bifore That alle kynne creatures Sholden knelen and bowen, Anoon as men nempned The name of God Jhesu. Ergo is no name To the name of Jhesus; Ne noon so nedeful to nempne By nyghte ne by daye. 13000 For alle derke develes Arn a-drad to heren it; And synfulle aren solaced And saved by that name. And ye callen hym Crist; For what cause telleth me? Is Crist moore of myght, And moore worthi name, Than Jhesu or Jhesus, That al oure joye com of?"

13010 "Thow knowest wel," quod Conscience, "And thow konne reson, That knyght, kyng, conquerour, May be o persone. To be called a knyght is fair, For men shul knele to hym; To be called a kyng is fairer, For he may knyghtes make; Ac to be conquerour called, That cometh of special grace, 13020 And of hardynesse of herte, And of hendenesse, To make lordes of laddes Of lond that he wynneth, And fre men foule thralles That folwen noght hise lawes.

"The Jewes that were gentil men, Jhesus thei despised, Bothe his loore and his lawe; Now are thei lowe cherles. 13030 As wide as the world is, Noon of hem ther wonyeth But under tribut and taillage, As tikes and cherles; And tho that bicome cristene Bi counseil of the baptisme, Aren frankeleyns, free men, Thorugh fullynge that thei toke, And gentil men with Jhesu; For Jhesu was y-fulled, 13040 And upon Calvarie on cros Y-crouned kyng of Jewes.

"It bicometh to a kyng To kepe and to defende; And conquerour of conquest Hise lawes and his large. And so dide Jhesus the Jewes, He justified and taughte hem The lawe of lif, That laste shal evere; 13050 And defended from foule yveles, Feveres and fluxes, And from fendes that in hem were, And false bileve. Tho was he Jhesus of Jewes called, Gentile prophete, And kyng of hir kyngdom, And croune bar of thornes.

"And tho conquered he on cros, As conquerour noble. 13060 Mighte no deeth hym for-do, Ne a-doun brynge, That he naroos and regnede, And ravysshed helle: And tho was he conquerour called Of quyke and of dede. For he yaf Adam and Eve And othere mo blisse, That longe hadde y-leyen bifore As Luciferis cherles.

13070 "And sith he yaf largely Alle hise lele liges Places in Paradis, At hir partynge hennes; He may wel be called conquerour, And that is Crist to mene.

"Ac the cause that he cometh thus With cros of his passion, Is to wissen us therwith That whan that we ben tempted, 13080 Therwith to fighte and defenden us Fro fallynge to synne. And so bi his sorwe, That who so loveth joye To penaunce and to poverte He moste puten hymselven, And muche wo in this world To willen and suffren.

"Ac to carpe moore of Crist, And how he com to that name, 13090 Faithly for to speke, His firste name was Jhesus; Tho he was born in Bethleem, As the book telleth, And cam to take mankynde, Kynges and aungeles Reverenced hym faire With richesses of erthe, Aungeles out of hevene Come knelynge and songe, 13100 Gloria in excelsis Deo, etc.

"Kynges that come after Knelede, and offrede Mirre and muche gold, Withouten mercy askynge Or any kynnes catel, But knowelichynge hym sovereyn Bothe of lond, sonne, and see, And sithenes thei wente Into hir kyngene kith, 13110 By counseil of aungeles. And there was that word fulfilled The which thow of speke. Omnia cælestia terrestria flectantur in hoc nomine Jhesu.

"For alle the aungeles of hevene At his burthe knelede, And al the wit of the world Was in tho thre kynges, Reson and rightwisnesse 13120 And ruthe thei offrede; Wherfore and why Wise men that tyme, Maistres and lettred men, Magi hem callede.

"That o kyng cam with reson, Covered under sense.

"The seconde kyng siththe Soothliche offrede Rightwisnesse under reed gold, 13130 Resones felawe. For gold is likned to leautee That laste shal evere.

"The thridde kyng tho kam Knelynge to Jhesu, And presented hym with pitee, Apperynge by mirre. For mirre is mercy to mene And mylde speche of tonge.

"Thre y-liche honeste thynges 13140 Were offred thus at ones, Thorugh thre kynne kynges Knelynge to Jhesu,

"Ac for alle thise preciouse presentz, Oure Lord kyng Jhesus Was neither kyng ne conquerour, Til he gan to wexe In the manere of a man, And that by muchel sleighte, As it bi-cometh a conquerour 13150 To konne manye sleightes, And manye wiles and wit, That wole ben a ledere. And so dide Jhesu in hise dayes, Who so hadde tyme to telle it.

"Som tyme he suffrede, And som tyme he hidde hym; And some tyme he faught faste, And fleigh outher while; And som tyme he gaf good, 13160 And grauntede heele bothe, Lif and lyme, As hym liste he wroghte. As kynde is of a conquerour, So comsede Jhesu, Til he hadde alle hem That he for bledde.

"In his juventee this Jhesus At Jewene feeste Water into wyn turnede, 13170 As holy writ telleth. And there bigan God Of his grace to do-wel. For wyn is likned to lawe And lif-holynesse, And lawe lakkede tho, For men lovede noght hir enemys. And Crist counseileth thus, And comaundeth bothe, To lered and to lewede 13180 To lovyen oure enemys. So at the feeste first, As I bifore tolde, Bigan God of his grace And goodnesse to do-wel. And thanne was he called Noght holy Crist, but Jhesu, A faunt fyn ful of wit, Filius Mariæ. For bifore his moder Marie 13190 Made he that wonder; That she first and formest Ferme sholde bileve That he thorugh grace was gete, And of no gome ellis. He wroghte that by no wit, But thorugh word one; After the kynde that he cam of, There comsede he do-wel.

"And whan he woxen was moore, 13200 In his moder absence, He made lame to lepe, And yaf light to blynde, And fedde with two fisshes, And with fyve loves, Sore a fyngred folk Mo than fyve thousand.

"Thus he confortede carefulle And caughte a gretter name, The which was Do-bet, 13210 Where that he wente, For deve thorugh hise doynges to here And dombe speke he made, And alle he heeled and halp That hym of grace askede. And tho was he called in contré Of the comune peple, For the dedes that he dide, Fili David, Jhesus. For David was doghtiest 13220 Of dedes in his tyme. The burdes tho songe, = Saul interfecit mille, et David decem millia.

"For-thi the contree ther Jhesu cam Called hym fili David, And nempned hym of Nazareth, And no man so worthi To be kaiser or kyng Of the kyngdom of Juda, 13230 Ne over Jewes justice, As Jhesus was, hem thoughte.

"Wherof Cayphas hadde envye, And othere of the Jewes; And for to doon hym to dethe Day and nyght thei casten, Killeden hym on cros wise At Calvarie on Friday, And sithen buriede his body, And beden that men sholde, 13240 Kepen it fro nyght comeris With knyghtes y-armed, For no frendes sholde hym fecche. For prophetes hem tolde That that blissede body Of burieles risen sholde, And goon into Galilee, And gladen hise apostles, And his moder Marie; Thus men bifore demede.

13250 "The knyghtes that kepten it Bi-knewe it hemselven, That aungeles and archaungeles Er the day spronge Come knelynge to the corps, And songen Christus resurgens, Verray men bifore hem alle, And forth with hem he yede.

"The Jewes preide hem be pees, And bi-soughte the knyghtes 13260 Telle the comune that ther cam A compaignie of hise apostles, And bi-wicched hem as thei woke, And awey stolen it.

"Ac Marie Maudeleyne Mette hym by the weye, Goynge toward Galilee In godhede and manhede, And lyves and lokynge, And she a-loud cride 13270 In ech a compaignie ther she cam, Christus resurgens.

"Thus cam it out that Crist over-coom, Recoverede and lyvede = Sic oportet Christum pati et intrare, etc. For that that wommen witeth, May noght wel be counseille.

"Peter parceyved al this, And pursued after, 13280 Bothe James and Johan, Jhesu for to seke, Thaddee and ten mo, With Thomas of Inde. And as alle thise wise wyes Weren togideres, In an hous al bi-shet, And hir dore y-barred, Crist cam in, and al closed Bothe dore and yates, 13290 To Peter and to thise apostles, And seide pax vobis! And took Thomas by the hand, And taughte hym to grope, And feele with hise fyngres His flesshliche herte.

"Thomas touched it, And with his tonge seide, 'Deus meus et Dominus meus— Thow art my lord, I bi-leve, 13300 My God, lord Jhesu; Thow deidest and deeth tholedest, And deme shalt us alle, And now art lyvynge and lokynge, And laste shalt evere.'

"Crist carpede thanne, And curteisliche seide, 'Thomas, for thow trowest this, And treweliche bi-levest it, Blessed mote thow be, 13310 And be shalt for evere; And blessed mote thei alle be In body and in soule That nevere shul se me in sighte, As thow doost nowthe, And lelliche bi-leve al this, I love hem and blesse hem.' Beati qui non viderunt, etc.

"And whan this dede was doon, Do-best he taughte, 13320 And yaf Piers power, And pardon he grauntede, To alle maner men Mercy and forgifnesse, Hym myght to assoille Of alle manere synne, In covenaunt that thei come And kneweliched to paie To Piers pardon the Plowman, Redde quod debes.

13330 "Thus hath Piers power, By his pardon paied, To bynde and unbynde, Bothe here and ellis where; And assoille men of alle synnes, Save of dette one.

"Anoon after an heigh Up into hevene He wente, and wonyeth there, And wol come at the laste, 13340 And rewarde hym right wel That reddit quod debet, Paieth parfitly, As pure truthe wolde; And what persone paieth it nought, Punysshen he thenketh, And demen hem at domes day Bothe quyke and dede. The goode to the godhede And to greet joye, 13350 And wikkede to wonye In wo withouten ende."

Thus Conscience of Crist And of the cros carpede, And counseiled me to knele therto. And thanne cam, me thoughte, Oon spiritus paraclitus To Piers and to hise felawes In liknesse of a lightnynge He lighte on hem alle, 13360 And made hem konne and knowe Alle kynne langages. I wondred what that was, And waggede Conscience, And was a-fered of the light, For in fires lightnesse Spiritus paraclitus Over-spradde hem alle.

Quod Conscience, and knelede, "This is Cristes messager, 13370 And cometh fro the grete God, And Grace is his name. Knele now," quod Conscience, "And if thow kanst synge, Welcome hym and worshipe hym With Veni creator spiritus."

Thanne song I that song, So dide manye hundred, And cride with Conscience, "Help us, God of Grace!"

13380 And thanne bigan Grace To go with Piers Plowman, And counseillede hym and Conscience The comune to sompne; "For I wole dele to-day And gyve divine grace To alle kynne creatures That han hir fyve wittes, Tresour to lyve by To hir lyves ende, 13390 And wepne to fighte with That wole nevere faille. For Antecrist and hise Al the world shul greve, And acombre thee, Conscience, But if Crist thee helpe.

"And false prophetes fele, Flatereris and gloseris, Shullen come and be curatours Over kynges and erles, 13400 And Pride shal be pope, Prynce of holy chirche, Coveitise and unkyndenesse Cardinals hym to lede; For-thi," quod Grace, "er I go, I wol gyve yow tresor, And wepne to fighte with Whan Antecrist yow assaileth." And gaf ech man a grace To gide with hymselven, 13410 That ydelnesse encombre hym noght, Envye ne pride. Divisiones gratiarum sunt, etc.

Some he yaf wit With wordes to shewe, Wit to wynne hir liflode with, As the world asketh, As prechours and preestes, And prentices of lawe, They lelly to lyve 13420 By labour of tonge, And by wit to wissen othere As grace hem wolde teche.

And some he kennede craft And konnynge of sighte, With sellynge and buggynge Hir bilyve to wynne.

And some he lered to laboure, A lele lif and a trewe; And some he taughte to tilie, 13430 To dyche and to thecche, To wynne with her liflode Bi loore of his techynge.

And some to devyne and divide, Noumbres to kenne; And some to compace craftily, And colours to make; And some to se and to seye What sholde bi-falle, Bothe of wele and of wo, 13440 Telle it er it felle, As astronomyens thorugh astronomye, And philosofres wise.

And some to ryde, and to recovere That wrongfully was wonne; He wissed hem to wynne it ayein Thorugh wightnesse of handes, And fecchen it fro false men With folvyles lawes.

And some he lered to lyve 13450 In longynge to ben hennes, In poverte and in penaunce, To preie for alle cristene. And alle he lered to be lele, And ech a craft love oother; And forbad hem alle debat, That noon were among hem. "Though some be clenner than some, Ye se wel," quod Grace, "That he that useth the faireste craft, 13460 To the fouleste I kouthe have put hym. Thynketh alle," quod Grace, "That grace cometh of my gifte; Loketh that no man lakke oother, But loveth alle as bretheren.

"And who that moost maistries kan Be myldest of berynge; And crouneth Conscience kyng, And maketh Craft youre stiward, And after Craftes conseil 13470 Clotheth yow and fede. For I make Piers the Plowman My procuratour and my reve, And registrer to receyve, Redde quod debes. My prowor and my plowman Piers shal ben on erthe, And for to tilie truthe A teeme shal he have."

Grace gaf Piers a teeme 13480 Of foure grete oxen. That oon was Luk, a large beest, And a lowe chered; And Mark, and Mathew the thridde, Myghty beestes bothe; And joyned to hem oon Johan, Moost gentil of alle, The pris neet of Piers Plow, Passynge all othere.

And Grace gaf Piers 13490 Of his goodnesse foure stottes; Al that hise oxen eriede, Thei to harewen after. Oon highte Austyn, And Ambrose another, Gregori the grete clerk, And Jerom the goode. Thise foure the feith to teche Folweth Piers teme, And harewede in an hand while 13500 Al holy Scripture, With two harewes that thei hadde, An oold and a newe. Id est, vetus testamentum et novum.

And Grace gaf greynes, The cardynal vertues, And sew hem in mannes soule, And sithen he tolde hir names. Spiritus prudentiæ. The firste seed highte; 13510 And who so ete that, Ymagynen he sholde Er he deide any deeth, Devyse wel the ende; And lerned men a ladel bugge With a long stele, And caste for to kepe a crokke To save the fatte above.

The seconde seed highte Spiritus temperantiæ. 13520 He that ete of that seed Hadde swich a kynde, Sholde nevere mete ne muchel drynke Make hym to swelle, Ne no scornere ne scolde Out of skile hym bringe, Ne wynnynge ne wele Of worldliche richesse, Waste word of ydelnesse Ne wikked speche moeve; 13530 Sholde no curious clooth Comen on his rugge, Ne no mete in his mouth That maister Johan spicede.

The thridde seed that Piers sew Was spiritus fortitudinis. And who ete that seed, Hardy was he evere To suffren al that God sente, Siknesse and angres; 13540 Mighte no lesynges ne lyere, Ne los of worldly catel, Maken hym for any mournynge That he nas murie in soule, And bold and abidynge Bismares to suffre; And pleieth al with pacience And parce mihi domine; And covered hym under conseille Of Caton the wise: = Esto forti animo, cum sis dampnatus inique.

13552 The ferthe seed that Piers sew Was spiritus justitiæ. And he that ete of that seed, Sholde be evere trewe, With God, and naught a-gast, But of gile one; For gile gooth so pryvely, That good feith outher while 13560 Maye nought ben espied, For spiritus justitiæ.

Spiritus justitiæ. Spareth noght to spille Hem that ben gilty, And for to correcte The kyng, if he falle In gilt or in trespas. For counteth he no kynges wrathe, Whan he in court sitteth 13570 To demen as a domesman, A-drad was he nevere Neither of duc ne of deeth, That he ne dide lawe, For present or for preiere, Or any prynces lettres; He dide equité to alle Evene forth his power.

Thise foure sedes Piers sew; And siththe he dide hem harewe 13580 With olde lawe and newe lawe, That love myghte wexe Among tho foure vertues, And vices destruye. For comunliche in contrees Cammokes and wedes Foulen the fruyt in the feld, Ther thei growen togideres; And so doon vices Vertues worthi.

Quod Piers, "Hareweth alle that konneth kynde wit, 13591 By conseil of thise doctours; And tilieth after hir techynge The cardynale vertues."

"Ayeins thei greynes," quod Grace, "Bi-gynneth for to ripe, Ordeigne thee an hous, Piers, To herberwe inne thi cornes."

"By God! Grace," quod Piers, "Ye moten gyve tymber, 13600 And ordeyne that hous, Er ye hennes wende."

And Grace gaf hym the cros, With the croune of thornes, That Crist upon Calvarie For mankynde on pyned, And of his baptisme and blood That he bledde on roode He made a manere morter, And mercy it highte. 13610 And therwith Grace bi-gan To make a good foundement, And watlede it and walled it With his peyne and his passion, And of al holy writ He made a roof after, And called that hous Unitee, Holy chirche on Englisshe.

And whan this dede was doon, Grace devysede 13620 A cart highte cristendom To carie Piers sheves; And gaf hym caples to his carte, Contricion and confession; And made preesthod hayward, The while hymself wente As wide as the world is With Piers to tilie truthe.

Now is Piers to the plow; And Pride it aspide, 13630 And gadered hym a greet oost, For to greven he thynketh Conscience and alle cristene And cardinale vertues, Blowe hem doun and breke hem, And bite a-two the mores; And sente forth Surquidous, His sergeaunt of armes, And his spye Spille-love, Oon Spek-yvel bihynde.

13640 Thise two coome to Conscience, And to cristen peple, And tolde hem tidynges, That tyne thei sholde the sedes That Piers there hadde y-sowen, The cardynale vertues; "And Piers bern worth y-broke, And thei that ben in Unitee Shulle come out, and Conscience And youre two caples, 13650 Confession and Contricion; And youre carte the bileeve Shal be coloured so queyntely, And covered under sophistrie, That Conscience shal noght Knowe by Contricion Ne by Confession Who is cristene or hethene; Ne no manere marchaunt That with moneie deleth, 13660 Wheither he wynne with right, With wrong, or with usure.

"With swiche colours and queyntise Cometh Pride y-armed, With the lord that lyveth after The lust of his body, To wasten on welfare, And in wikked lyvynge, Al the world in a while Thorugh oure wit," quod Pryde.

13670 Quod Conscience to alle cristene tho, "My counseil is to wende Hastiliche into Unitee, And holde we us there; And praye we that a pees weere In Piers berne the Plowman. For witterly I woot wel, We beth noght of strengthe To goon agayn Pride, But Grace weere with us."

13680 And thanne kam Kynde Wit Conscience to teche, And cryde and comaundede Alle cristene peple For to delven a dych Depe aboute Unitee, That holy chirche stode in Unitee, As it a pyl weere.

Conscience comaundede tho Alle cristene to delve, 13690 And make a muche moot, That myghte ben a strengthe To helpe holy chirche And hem that it kepeth.

Thanne alle kynne cristene, Save comune wommen, Repenteden and refused synne, Save thei one, And false men, flatereris, Usurers, and theves, 13700 Lyeris, and queste-mongeres That were for-sworen ofte, Witynge and wilfully With the false helden, And for silver were for-swore, Soothly they wiste it.

Ther nas no cristene creature That kynde wit hadde, Save sherewes one Swiche as I spak of, 13710 That he ne halp a quantité Holynesse to wexe, Some thorugh bedes biddynge, And some thorugh pilgrymages And othere pryvé penaunces, And somme thorugh penyes delynge.

And thanne wellede water For wikkede werkes, Egreliche ernynge Out of mennes eighen, 13720 Clennesse out of comune, And clerkes clene lyvynge, Made Unitee holy chirche In holynesse to stonde.

"I care noght," quod Conscience, "Though Pride come nouthe. The lord of lust shal be letted Al this lente, I hope. Cometh," quod Conscience, "Ye cristene, and dyneth, 13730 That han laboured lelly Al this lenten tyme. Here is breed y-blessed, And Goddes body therunder: Grace, thorugh Goddes word, Yaf Piers power And myghtes to maken it, And men to ete it after In helpe of hir heele Ones in a monthe, 13740 Or as ofte as thei hadde nede, Tho that hadde y-paied To Piers pardon the Plowman. Redde quod debes."

"How?" quod al the comune, "Thow conseillest us to yelde Al that we owen any wight, Er we go to housel?"

"That is my conseil," quod Conscience, "And cardinale vertues, 13750 That ech man for-gyve oother, And that wol the pater-noster. Et dimitte nobis debita nostra, etc. And so to ben assoilled, And siththen ben houseled."

"Ye, baw!" quod a brewere, "I wol noght be ruled, By Jhesu! for al youre janglynge With spiritus justitiæ, Ne after Conscience, by Crist! 13760 While I kan selle Bothe dregges and draf, And drawe it out at oon hole Thikke ale and thynne ale, For that is my kynde, And noght hakke after holynesse. Hold thi tonge, Conscience! Of spiritus justitiæ, Thow spekest muche on ydel."

"Caytif!" quod Conscience, 13770 "Cursede wrecche! Un-blessed artow, brewere, But if thee God helpe. But thow lyve by loore Of spiritus justitiæ, The chief seed that Piers sew, Y-saved worstow nevere. But Conscience the comune fede, And cardinale vertues, Leve it wel, thei ben lost, 13780 Bothe lif and soule."

"Thanne is many a man lost," Quod a lewed vicory.— "I am a curatour of holy kirke, And cam nevere in my tyme Man to me, that me kouthe telle Of cardinale vertues, Or that acountede Conscience At a cokkes fethere or an hennes. I knew nevere cardynal, 13790 That he ne cam fro the pope; And we clerkes, whan thei come, For hir comunes paieth, For hir pelure and hir palfreyes mete, And pilours that hem folweth.

"The comune clamat cotidie Ech a man til oother, The contree is the corseder That cardinals comme inne; And ther thei ligge and lenge moost, 13800 Lecherie there regneth.

"For-thi," quod this vicory, "By verray God! I wolde That no cardynal coome Among the comune peple; But in hir holynesse Helden hem stille At Avynone among the Jewes,— Cum sancto sanctus eris, etc.— Or in Rome, as hir rule wole, 13810 The relikes to kepe; And thow, Conscience, in kynges court, And sholdest nevere come thennes; And Grace, that thow graddest so of, Gyour of alle clerkes; And Piers with his newe plow, And ek with his olde, Emperour of al the world, That alle men were cristene.

"Inparfit is that pope 13820 That al the world sholde helpe, And sendeth swiche that sleeth hem That he sholde save.

"And wel worthe Piers the Plowman, That pursueth God in doynge, Qui pluit super justos Et injustos at ones, And sent the sonne to save A cursed mannes tilthe, As brighte as to the beste man, 13830 Or to the beste womman.

"Right so Piers the Plowman Peyneth hym to tilye As wel for a wastour And wenches of the stewes, As for hymself and his servauntz, Save he is first y-served; And travailleth and tilieth For a tretour also soore As for a trewe tidy man, 13840 Alle tymes y-like. And worshiped be he that wroghte al, Bothe good and wikke, And suffreth that synfulle be, [Tyl som tyme that thei repenten]. And God amende the pope! That pileth holy kirke, And cleymeth bifore the kyng To be kepere over cristene; And counteth noght though cristene ben 13850 Killed and robbed; And fynt folk to fighte, And cristen blood to spille, Ayein the olde lawe and newe lawe, As Luc therof witnesseth. Non occides, mihi vindictam, etc.

"It semeth, bi so Hymself hadde his wille, That he reccheth right noght Of al the remenaunt. 13860 And Crist of his curteisie The cardinals save, And torne hir wit to wisdom, And to welthe of soule! For the comune," quod this curatour, "Counten ful litel The counseil of Conscience, Or cardinale vertues. But if thei seighe, as by sighte, Som what to wynnyng, 13870 Of gile ne of gabbyng Gyve thei nevere tale. For spiritus prudentiæ Among the peple is gyle; And alle tho faire vertues As vices thei semeth. Ech man subtileth a sleighte Synne for to hide, And coloureth it for a konnynge, And a clene lyvynge."

13880 Thanne lough ther a lord, And "By this light!" seide, "I holde it right and reson Of my reve to take Al that myn auditour, Or ellis my styward, Counseilleth me bi hir acounte And my clerkes writyng. With spiritus intellectus Thei seke the reves rolles; 13890 And with spiritus fortitudinis Fecche it I wole after."

And thanne cam ther a kyng, And, by his croune! seide, "I am kyng with croune The comune to rule, And holy kirke and clergie From cursed men to fende; And if me lakketh to lyve by, The lawe wole I take it 13900 Ther I may hastilokest it have. For I am heed of lawe; And ye ben but membres, And I above alle. And sith I am youre aller heed, I am youre aller heele, And holy chirches chief help, And chieftayn of the comune; And what I take of yow two, I take it at the techynge 13910 Of spiritus justitiæ, For I jugge yow alle. So I may boldely be housled, For I borwe nevere, Ne crave of my comune, But as my kynde asketh."

"In condicion," quod Conscience, "That thow konne defende And rule thi reaume in reson, Right wel and in truthe, 13920 Take thow mayst in reson As thi lawe asketh. Omnia tua sunt ad defendendum, sed non ad deprædandum." The viker hadde fer hoom, And faire took his leeve; And I awakned therwith, 13927 And wroot as me mette.

Passus Vicesimus de Visione, et Primus de Do-best.

13928 HANNE as I wente by the wey, Whan I was thus awaked, Hevy-chered I yede, And elenge in herte; I ne wiste wher to ete, Ne at what place, And it neghed neigh the noon, And with Nede I mette That afrounted me foule, And faitour me called: "Kanstow noght excuse thee, As dide the kyng and othere, 13940 That thow toke to thy bilyve, To clothes and to sustenaunce; And by techynge and by tellynge Of spiritus temperantiæ, And thow nome na-moore Than nede thee taughte, And nede he hath no lawe, Ne nevere shal falle in dette; For thre thynges he taketh, His lif for to save.

13950 "That is mete, whan men hym werneth And he no moneye weldeth, Ne wight noon wol ben his borugh, Ne wed hath noon to legge; And he caughte in that caas, And come therto by sleighte, He synneth noght, soothliche, That so wynneth his foode.

"And though he come so to a clooth, And kan no bettre chevyssaunce, 13960 Nede anoon righte Nymeth hym under maynprise.

"And if hym list for to lape, The lawe of kynde wolde That he dronke at ech dych, Er he for thurst deide. So Nede al gret nede May nymen, as for his owene, Withouten counseil of Conscience Or cardynale vertues, 13970 So that he sewe and save Spiritus temperantiæ.

"For is no vertue bi fer To spiritus temperantiæ; Ne spiritus justitiæ Ne spiritus fortitudinis. For spiritus fortitudinis Forfeteth ful ofte. He shal do moore than mesure Many tyme and ofte, 13980 And bete men over bittre, And some of hem to litel, And greve men gretter Than good feith it wolde

"And spiritus justitiæ Shal juggen, wol he nele he, After the kynges counseil, And the comune like. And spiritus prudentiæ In many a point shal faille 13990 Of that he weneth wolde falle, If his wit ne weere. Wenynge is no wysdom, Ne wys ymaginacion, Homo proponit, et Deus disponit, And governeth alle goode vertues; Ac Nede is next hym, For anoon he meketh, And as lowe as a lomb, For lakkyng of that hym nedeth. 14000 Wise men forsoke wele, For thei wolde be nedy, And woneden in wildernesse, And wolde noght he riche.

"And God al his grete joye Goostliche he lefte, And cam and took mankynde, And bi-cam nedy. So nedy he was, as seith the book, In manye sondry places, 14010 That he seide in his sorwe On the selve roode, Bothe fox and fowel May fle to hole and crepe, And the fissh hath fyn To flete with to reste, Ther Nede hath y-nome me That I moot nede abide And suffre sorwes ful soure That shal to joye torne, 14020 For-thi be noght abasshed To bide and to be nedy; Sith he that wroghte al the world Was wilfulliche nedy, Ne nevere noon so nedy Ne poverer deide."

W HAN Nede hath under-nome me thus, Anoon I fil a-slepe; And mette ful merveillously, That in mannes forme 14030 Antecrist cam thanne, And al the crop of Truthe Torned it up-so-doun, And over-tilte the roote; And fals sprynge and sprede, And spede mennes nedes, In ech a contree ther he cam He kutte awey truthe, And gerte gile growe there, As he a Good weere.

14040 Freres folwede that fend, For he gaf hem copes; And religiouse reverenced hym, And rongen hir belles, And al the covent forth cam To welcome that tyraunt, And alle hise as wel as hym, Save oonly fooles. Whiche foolis were wel levere To deye than to lyve 14050 Lenger, sith Lenten Was so rebuked. And as a fals fend, Antecrist Over alle folk regnede, Save that were mylde men and holye, That no meschief dradden, Defyed alle falsnesse And folk that it usede; And what kyng that hem conforted, Knowynge hem any while, 14060 They cursed and hir conseil, Were it clerk or lewed.

Antecrist hadde thus soone Hundredes at his baner, And Pride it bar Boldely aboute, With a lord that lyveth After likyng of body, That kam ayein Conscience, That kepere was and gyour 14070 Over kynde cristene And cardynale vertues.

"I conseille," quod Conscience tho, "Cometh with me, ye fooles, Into Unité holy chirche, And holde we us there; And crye we to kynde That he come and defende us, Fooles, fro thise fendes lymes, For Piers love the Plowman; 14080 And crye we to al the comune, That thei come to Unitee, And there abide and bikere Ayeins Beliales children."

Kynde Conscience tho herde, And cam out of the planetes, And sente forth his forreyours, Feveres and fluxes, Coughes and cardiacles, Crampes and tooth-aches, 14090 Rewmes and radegundes, And roynous scabbes, Biles and bocches, And brennynge agues, Frenesies and foule yveles, Forageres of kynde, Hadde y-priked and prayed Polles of peple, That largeliche a legion Loste hir lif soone.

14100 There was, "Harrow and help! Here cometh Kynde, With Deeth that is dredful To undo us alle!"

The lord that lyved after lust Tho aloud cryde After Confort, a knyght, To come and bere his baner; "A l'arme! à l'arme!" quod that lord, "Ech lif kepe his owene!"

14110 And thanne mette thise men, Er mynstrals myghte pipe, And er heraudes of armes Hadden discryved lordes, Elde the hoore That was in the vaunt-warde. And bar the baner bifore Deeth, Bi right he it cleymede.

Kynde cam after, With many kene soores, 14120 As pokkes and pestilences, And muche peple shente; So Kynde thorugh corrupcions Kilde ful manye.

Deeth cam dryvynge after, And al to duste passhed Kynges and knyghtes, Kaysers and popes, Lered and lewed, He leet no man stonde 14130 That he hitte evene, That evere stired after. Manye a lovely lady, And lemmans of knyghtes, Swowned and swelted For sorwe of hise dyntes.

Conscience of his curteisie To Kynde he bi-soughte To cesse and suffre, And see wher thei wolde 14140 Leve Pride pryvely, And be parfite cristene.

And Kynde cessede tho To se the peple amende. Fortune gan flatere thanne Tho fewe that were alyve, And bi-highte hem long lif, And Lecherie he sente Amonges alle manere men, Wedded and unwedded, 14150 And gaderede a greet hoost Al agayn Conscience.

This Lecherie leide on With a janglynge chiere, And with pryvee speche And peyntede wordes; And armede hym in ydelnesse, And in heigh berynge. He bar a bowe in his hand, And manye brode arewes, 14160 Weren fethered with fair bi-heste And many a fals truthe. With hise un-tidy tales He tened ful ofte. Conscience and his compaignye, Of holy chirche the techeris.

Thanne cam Coveitise, And caste how he myghte Overcome Conscience And cardinale vertues, 14170 And armed hym in avarice, And hungriliche lyvede. His wepne was al wiles To wynnen and to hiden; With glosynges and with gabbynges He giled the peple.

Symonye hym sente To assaille Conscience, And preched to the peple; And prelates thei hem maden 14180 To holden with Antecrist, His temporaltees to save; And cam to the kynges counseille As a kene baroun, And kneled to Conscience In court afore hem alle, And garte good feith flee, And fals to abide; And boldeliche bar a-doun, With many a bright noble, 14190 Muche of the wit and wisdom Of Westmynstre Halle. He jogged to a justice, And justed in his eere, And over-tilte al his truthe With "Tak this up amendement."

And to the Arches in haste He yede anoon after, And tornede cyvyle into symonye, And siththe he took the official 14200 For a mantel of menever, And made lele matrymoyne Departen er deeth cam, And devors shapte.

"Allas!" quod Conscience, and cryde tho, "Wolde Crist of his grace That coveitise were cristene! That is so kene a fightere, And boold and bidynge While his bagge lasteth."

14210 And thanne lough Lyf, And leet daggen hise clothes, And armed hym an haste With harlotes wordes; And heeld holynesse a jape, And hendenesse a wastour; And leet leautee a cherl, And lyere a fre man; Conscience and his counseil He counted at a flye 14220 Thus relyede Lif, For a litel fortune; And priketh forth with Pride, Preiseth he no vertue, Ne careth noght how Kynde slow, And shal come at the laste, And kille alle erthely creatures, Save Conscience oone. Lyf lepte aside, And laughte hym a lemman; 14230 "Heele and I," quod he, "And heighnesse of herte, Shal do thee noght drede Neither deeth ne elde, And to forgyte sorwe, And gyve noght of synne."

This likede Lif, And his lemman Fortune; And geten in hir glorie A gadelyng at the laste, 14240 Oon that muche wo wroghte, Sleuthe was his name. Sleuthe wax wonder yerne, And soone was of age, And wedded oon Wanhope, A wenche of the stuwes. Hir sire was a sysour That nevere swoor truthe, Oon Tomme Two-tonge, Atteynt at ech enqueste.

14250 This Sleuthe was war of werre, And a slynge made, And threw drede of dispair A dozeyne myle aboute.

For care Conscience tho Cryde upon Elde, And bad hym fonde to fighte, And a-fere Wanhope.

And Elde hente good hope, And hastiliche he shifte hym, 14260 And wayved awey Wanhope, And with Lif he fighteth. And Lif fleigh for feere To phisik after helpe, And bi-soughte hym of socour, And of his salve he hadde. He gaf hym gold good woon, That gladede his herte; And thei gyven hym ageyn A glazene howve.

14270 Lyf leeved that lechecraft Lette sholde elde, And dryven awey deeth With dyas and drogges.

And Elde auntred hym on lyf, And at the laste he hitte A phisicien with a furred hood, That he fel in a palsie, And there dyed that doctour Er thre dayes after.

14280 "Now I se," seide Lif, "That surgerie ne phisik May noght a myte availle To mede ayein Elde." And in hope of his heele Good herte he hente, And rood forth to a revel, A ryche place and a murye; The compaignye of confort Men cleped it som tyme.

14290 And Elde anoon after me And over myn heed yede; And made me balled bifore, And bare on the crowne. So harde he yede over myn heed, It wole be sene evere.

"Sire yvele y-taught, Elde!" quod I, "Unhende go with the! Sith whanne was the wey Over mennes heddes? 14300 Haddestow be hende," quod I, "Thow woldest have asked leeve."

"Ye, leve lurdeyn!" quod he; And leyde on me with age, And hitte me under the ere, Unnethe myghte ich here. He buffetted me so aboute the mouth, That out my teeth he bette; And gyved me in goutes, I may noght goon at large. 14310 And of the wo that I was inne My wif hadde ruthe, And wisshed ful witterly That I were in hevene; For the lyme that she loved me fore, And leef was to feele,— On nyghtes, namely, Whan we naked weere,— I ne myghte in no manere Maken it at hir wille; 14320 So Elde and she, soothly, Hadden it for-beten.

And as I seet in this sorwe, I saugh how Kynde passede; And Deeth drogh neigh me. For drede gan I quake, And cryde to Kynde, "Out of care me brynge! Lo! Elde the hoore Hath me bi-seye. 14330 Awreke me! if youre wille be, For I wolde ben hennes."

"If thow wolt be wroken, Wend into Unitee, And hold thee there evere, Til I sende for thee; And loke thow konne som craft, Er thow come thennes."

"Counseille me, Kynde," quod I, "What craft is best to lerne."

14340 "Lerne to love," quod Kynde, "And leef of alle othere."

"How shal I come to catel so, To clothe me and to feede?"

"And thow love lelly," quod he, "Lakke shal thee nevere Mete ne worldly weede, While thi lif lasteth."

And there by conseil of Kynde I comsed to rome 14350 Thorugh Contricion and Confession, Til I cam to Unitee. And there was Conscience conestable Cristene to save, And bisegede soothly With sevene grete geauntz That with Antechrist helden Harde ayein Conscience.

Sleuthe with his slynge An hard assaut he made. 14360 Proude preestes coome with hym Mo than a thousand, In paltokes and pyked shoes, And pisseris longe knyves, Coomen ayein Conscience, With Coveitise thei helden.

"By Marie!" quod a mansed preest Of the Marche of Walys, "I counte na-moore Conscience, By so I cacche silver, 14370 Than I do to drynke A draughte of good ale." And so seiden sixty Of the same contree; And shotten ayein with shot Many a sheef of othes, And brode hoked arwes, Goddes herte and hise nayles; And hadden almoost Unitee, And holynesse a-down.

14380 Conscience cryede, "Helpe, Clergie! Or ellis I falle, Thorugh inparfite preestes And prelates of holy chirche." Freres herden hym crye, And comen hym to helpe; Ac for thei kouthe noght wel hir craft, Conscience forsook hem.

Nede neghede tho neer, And Conscience he tolde 14390 That thei come for coveitise To have cure of soules; "And for thei are povere, peraventure, For patrymoyne thei faille, They wol flatere and fare wel With folk that ben riche. And sithen thei chosen chele And cheitiftee poverte, Lat hem chewe as thei chose, And charge hem with no cure. 14400 For lomere he lyeth, That liflode moot begge, Than he that laboureth for liflode, And leneth it beggeris. And sithen freres forsoke The felicité of erthe, Lat hem be as beggeris, Or lyve by aungeles foode."

Conscience of this counseil tho Comsede for to laughe, 14410 And curteisliche conforted hem, And called in alle freres, And seide, "Sires, soothly Welcome be ye alle To Unitee and holy chirche; Ac o thyng I yow preye, Holdeth yow in Unitee, And haveth noon envye To lered ne to lewed, But lyveth after youre reule, 14420 And I wol be youre borugh Ye shal have breed and clothes And othere necessaries y-nowe, Yow shal no thyng faille, With that ye leve logik, And lerneth for to lovye. For love lafte thei lordshipe, Bothe lond and scole, Frere Fraunceys and Domynyk, For love to be holye.

14430 "And if ye coveite cure, Kynde wol yow teche That in mesure God made Alle manere thynges, And sette hem at a certein And a siker nombre, And nempnede names newe, And noumbrede the sterres. Qui numerat multitudinem stellarum, et omnibus eis, etc.

14440 "Kynges and knyghtes That kepen and defenden, Han officers under hem, And ech of hem a certein. And if thei wage men to werre, Thei write hem in noumbre; Alle othere in bataille Ben y-holde brybours, Pylours and pyke-harneys, In ech a place y-cursed, 14450 Wol no man tresore hem paie, Travaille thei never so soore.

"Monkes and moniales, And alle men of religion, Hir ordre and hir reule wole To han a certein noumbre, Of lewed and of lered, The lawe wole and asketh A certein for a certein, Save oonliche of freres.

14460 "For thi," quod conscience, "by Crist! Kynde wit me telleth It is wikked to wage yow, Ye wexen out of noumbre; Hevene hath evene noumbre, And helle is withoute noumbre. For-thi I wolde witterly That ye were in the registre, And youre noumbre under notaries signe, And neither mo ne lasse."

14470 Envye herde this, And heet freres to go to scole And lerne logyk and lawe, And ek contemplacion, And preche men of Plato, And preve it by Seneca, That alle thynges under hevene Oughte to ben in comune.

And yet he lyeth, as I leve, That to the lewed so precheth; 14480 For God made to men a lawe, And Moyses it taughte. Non concupisces rem proximi tui.

And yvele in this y-holde In parisshes of Engelonde; For persons and parissh-preestes That sholde the peple shryve, Ben curatours called, To knowe and to hele Alle that ben hir parisshens, 14490 Penaunce to enjoigne; And sholden be ashamed in his shrift; Ac shame maketh hem wende And fleen to the freres, As fals folk to Westmynstre, That borweth, and bereth it thider, And thanne biddeth frendes Yerne of forgifnesse, Or lenger yeres loone. Ac while he is in Westmynstre, 14500 He wol be bifore, And maken hym murie With oother mennes goodes.

And so it fareth with muche folk That to the freres hem shryveth, As sisours and executours, Thei wol gyve the freres A parcel to preye for hem, And make hemself murye With the residue and the remenaunt 14510 That othere men bi-swonke, And suffre the dede in dette To the day of doome.

Envye herfore Hatede Conscience; And freres to philosophie He fond thanne to scole, The while Coveitise and Unkyndenesse, Conscience assaillede. In Unitee holy chirche 14520 Conscience held hym, And made Pees porter To pynne the yates, Of alle tale-telleris And titeleris in ydel Ypocrisie and he An hard assaut thei made, And woundede wel wikkedly Many a wis techere That with Conscience acordede 14530 And cardynale vertues.

Conscience called a leche, That koude wel shryve, To go salve tho that sike ben And thorugh synne y-wounded Shrift shoop sharpe salve, And made men do penaunce For hir mys-dedes That thei wroght hadde, And that Piers were y-payed: 14540 Redde quod debes.

Some liked noght this leche, And lettres thei sente, If any surgien were the segge That softer koude plastre. Sire Leef-to-lyve-in-lecherie Lay there and gronede, For fastynge of a Frydaye He ferde as he wolde deye.

"Ther is a surgien in this sege 14550 That softe kan handle, And moore of phisik bi fer And fairer he plastreth, Oon frere Flaterere, Is phisicien and surgien."

Quod Contricion to Conscience, "Do hym come to Unitee; For here is many a man Hurt thorugh Ypocrisye."

"We han no nede," quod Conscience, 14560 "I woot no bettre leche Than person or parisshe-preest, Penitauncer or bisshope, Save Piers the Plowman, That hath power over hem alle, And indulgence may do, But if dette lette it."

"I may wel suffre," seide Conscience, "Syn ye desiren That frere Flaterere be fet 14570 And phisike yow sike."

The frere herof herde And hiede faste To a lord for a lettre, Leve to have to curen, As a curatour he were; And cam with hise lettres Boldely to the bisshope, And his brief hadde, In contrees ther he coome 14580 Confessions to here, And cam there Conscience was, And knokked at the yate.

Pees unpynned it, Was porter of Unitee, And in haste askede What his wille were.

"In faith!" quod this frere, "For profit and for helthe Carpe I wolde with Contricion, 14590 And therfore cam I hider."

"He is sik," seide Pees, "And so are manye othere. Ypocrisie hath hurt hem, Ful hard is if thei kevere."

"I am a surgien," seide the segge, "And salves kan make. Conscience knoweth me wel, And what I kan do bothe."

"I praye thee," quod Pees tho, 14600 "Er thow passe ferther, What hattestow? I praye thee; Hele noght thi name."

"Certes," seide his felawe, "Sire Penetrans-domos."

"Ye, go thi gate," quod Pees, "By God! for al thi phisik, But thow konne som oother craft, Thow comest nought herinne. I knew swich oon ones, 14610 Noght eighte wynter hennes, Coom in thus y-coped At a court there I dwelde, And was my lordes leche, And my ladies bothe. And at the laste this lymytour, Tho my lord was oute, He salvede so oure wommen Til some were with childe."

Hende-speche heet Pees 14620 Open the yates, "Lat in the frere and his felawe, And make hem fair cheere; He may se and here, So it may bifalle That lif thorugh his loore Shal leve Coveitise, And be a-drad of Deeth, And withdrawe hym fram Pryde, And acorde with Conscience, 14630 And kisse hir either oother."

Thus thorugh Hende-speche Entred the frere, And cam in to Conscience, And curteisly hym grette.

"Thou art welcome," quod Conscience, "Kanstow heele the sike? Here is Contricion," quod Conscience, "My cosyn, y-wounded. Conforte hym," quod Conscience, 14640 "And tak kepe to hise soores. The plastres of the person And poudres biten to soore; He lat hem ligge over longe, And looth is to chaunge hem; Fro lenten to lenten He lat hise plastres bite."

"That is over longe," quod this lymytour, "I leve I shal amende it." And gooth and gropeth Contricion, 14650 And gaf hym a plastre Of 'a pryvee paiement, And I shal praye for yow For al that ye ben holden to, Al my lif tyme, And make yow, my lady, In masse and in matyns As frere of oure fraternytee For a litel silver.'

Thus he gooth and gadereth, 14660 And gloseth there he shryveth, Til Contricion hadde clene foryeten To crye and to wepe; And wake for hise wikked werkes, As he was wont to doone, For confort of his confessour Contricion he lafte, That is the soverayneste salve For alle kynne synnes.

Sleuthe seigh that, 14670 And so dide Pryde, And comen with a kene wille Conscience to assaille.

Conscience cryed eft, And bad Clergie helpe hym, And also Contricion, For to kepe the yate.

"He lyth and dremeth," seide Pees, "And so do manye othere, The frere with his phisyk 14680 This folk hath enchaunted, And plastred hem so esily, Thei drede no synne."

"By Crist!" quod Conscience tho, "I wole bicome a pilgrym, And walken as wide As the world lasteth, To seken Piers the Plowman, That Pryde may destruye; And that freres hadde a fyndyng, 14690 That for nede flateren, And countrepledeth me, Conscience. Now Kynde me avenge, And sende me hap and heele, Til I have Piers the Plowman." And siththe he gradde after Grace, 14696 Til I gan awake.

Explicit hic Dialogus Petri Plowman.

1 ROS and curteis Christ This begynnyng spede, For the faders frendshipe That fourmed heaven, And through the special spirit That sprong of hem tweyne, And al in one God-hed Endles dwelleth. A, and all myn a.b.c. 10 After have I lerned, And patred in my pater-noster Iche poynt after other; And after al, myne Ave-marie Almost to the end; But al my care is to comen, For I can nought my Crede. Whan I shall shewen my shrift, Shent mote I worthen; The preeste wil me punyche, 20 And penaunce enjoyne; The lengthe of a lenton Flesh moot I leve, After that Estur is y-come, And that is hard fare; And Wedenesday iche wyke Withouten flesh-mete. And also Jesu hymselfe To the Jewes he saide, "He that leeveth nought on me, 30 He leseth the blisse." Therfor lerne the byleve Levest me were, Gif any worldly wight Wil me [it] couthe; Other lewed or lered, That lyveth thereafter And fulliche folweth the feith, And feyneth non other; That no worldeliche wele 40 Wilneth no tyme, But liveth in lovyng of God, And his lawe holdeth; And for no gettyng of good Never his God greveth, But folweth hym the full way, As he the folke taughte. But to many maner of men This matter is asked, Both to lered and to lewed, 50 That seyn that they liveden Hollich on the grete God, And holden al his hestes. But by a fraynyng for than Faileth ther manye. For first I frayned the freres, And they me fulle tolden, That al the fruyt of the fayth Was in her foure orders; And the cofres of Christendom, 60 And the keie bothen, And the lock of byleve, Lieth loken in her hondes,

Then wennede I to wytten, And with a whight I mette, A Minoure in a morwe-tide; And to this man I saide, "Sire, for greate Godes love! The graith thou me tell, Of what myddel-erde man 70 Myght I best lerne My Crede? For I can it nought, My kare is the more. And therfore, for Christes love! Thy counseyl I preie. A Carm me hath y-covenant, The nede me to teche; But for thou knowest Carmes wel, Thy counsail I aske."

This Minour loked on me, 80 And laughyng he sayde, "Leve christen man, I leve that thou [art] madde: Whough shulde thei techen the god, That con non hemselve? They ben but jugulers, And japers of kynde; Lorels and lechures, And lemans holden, Neyther in order ne out, 90 But unneth lybbeth, And by-japeth the folk With gestes of Rome. It is but a faynt folke, Y-founded upon japes. They maketh hem Maries men, And so thei men tellen; And leieth on oure Lady Many a long tale. And that wicked folk 100 Wymmen betraieth, And begileth hem her good With glaverynge wordes, And therwith holden her hous In harlotes warkes. And, so save me God! I hold it greate synne To gyven hem any good, Swiche glotones to fynde, To mayntaynen swiche maner men 110 That michel good destruieth. Yet seyn they in her sutiltie To sottes in townes, Thei comen out of Carmeli Christ for to folwen, And feyneth hem with holynesse, That yvele hem bisemeth. Thei lyven more in lecherie, And lyeth in her tales, Than suen any good liif; 120 But lurken in her selles, And wynnen werdliche good, And wasten it in synne. And ghif thei couthen her Crede, Other on Christ leveden, Thei weren nought so hardy Swyche harlotri usen. Sikerli I can nought fynden Who hem first founded; But the foles foundeden hemselfe 130 Freres of the Pye, And maken hem mendynans, And marre the puple. But what glut of tho gomes May any good kachen, He wyl kepen it hemself, And cofrene it faste; And thoigh his felawes fayle good, For hym he may sterven. Her monei mai byquest, 140 And testament maken, And none obedience bere, But don as hym luste. And ryght as Robartes men Raken aboute At feyres and at full ales, And fyllen the cuppe; And precheth al of pardon, To plesen the puple. Her pacience is al pased, 150 And put out to ferme; And pride is in her povertie, That litel is to preisen. And at the lullyng of oure lady The wymmen to lyken, And miracles of mydwyves, And maken wymmen to wenen That the lace of oure Lady smok Lighteth hem of children. Thei ne prechen nought of Powel, 160 Ne penaunce for synne; But al of merci and mensk, That Marie may helpen. With sterne staves and stronge Thei over lond straketh, Thider as here lemmans liggeth, And lurketh in townes, Grey grete-heded quenes With gold by the eighen, And seyne that her sustern thei ben, 170 That sojurneth aboute. And thus abouten the gon, And Godes folke betrayeth. It is the puple that Powel Preched of in his tyme; He seyde of swich folke That so aboute wente, Wepyng, I warne you Of walkers aboute, It beth enemyes of the cros 180 That Christ upon tholede. Swiche slomrers in slepe, Slaughte in her ende, And glotonye is her God, With gloppynge of drynk, And gladnesse in glees, And grete joye y-maked. In the shendyng of swiche Shal mychel folk lawghe; Therfore, frend, for thy feith 190 Fond to don beter; Leve nought on tho losels, Put let hem forth pasen, For thei ben fals in her faith, And feele mo other."

"Alas! frere," quath I tho, "My purpos is y-failed; Now is my comfort a-cast. Canstou no bote, Wher I myght meten with a man 200 That myghte me wyssen For to conne my Crede, Christ for to folwen?"

"Certeyn, felawe," quath the frere, "Withouten any fayle, Of al men upon mold, We Minorities most sheweth The pure aposteles liif, With penance on erthe, And suen hem in sanctité, 210 And sufferen wel harde. We haunten no tavernes, Ne hobelen abouten; At marketes and miracles We medeleth us never; We hondlen no moneye, But monelich faren, And haven hunger at the mete, At ich a mel ones. We haven forsaken the world, 220 And in wo libbeth, In penaunce and poverte, And prechethe the puple By ensample of oure liif Soules to helpen; And in poverte preien For al oure parteneres, That gyveth us any good God to honouren, Other bel other book, 230 Or bred to our foode, Other catel, other cloth To coveren with oure bones. For we buldeth a burwgh, A brod and a large, A chirch and a chapitle, With chaumbers a-lofte; With wide wyndowes y-wrought, And walles wel heye, That mote ben portreid and paint, 240 And pulched ful clene, With gay glitering glas Glowyng as the sunne. And mightestou amenden us With moneye of thyn owen, Thou shouldest knely bifore Christ In compas of gold, In the wyde window west-ward Wel neigh in the myddel, And saint Fraunceis hymselfe 250 Shal folden the in his cope, And present the to the Trinité, And praye for thy synnes. Thy name shal noblich ben wryten And wrought for the nones, And in remembraunce of the Y-rad there for evere. And, brother, be thou nought a-ferd; Bythenk in thyne herte, Though thou conne nought thy Crede, 260 Care thou no-more! I shal asoilen the, syr, And setten it on my soule; And thou may maken this good, Thenk thou non other."

"Sir," I sayde, "in certaine I shal gon and asaye." And he set on me his hond, And asoiled me clene, And there I parted him fro 270 Wythouten and peyne; In covenaunt that I come agayne, Christ he me be-taught.

Then saide I to myself, "Here semeth litel treuthe! First to blame his brother, And bakbyten hym foule, There as curteis Christ Clerliche saide, Whow myght thou in thy brothers eighe 280 A bare mote loken, And in thyn owen eighe Nought a beme toten? See fyrst on thyself, And sithen on another, And clense clene thy syght, And kepe wel thyne eighe, And for another mannes eighe Ordeyne after. And also I see coveitise 290 Catel to fongen, That Christ hath clerliche forboden, And clenliche destrueden; And sayde to his sueres For sothe on this wyse, 'Nought thy neighbors good Coveyte in no tyme.' But charité and chastité Ben chased out clene. But Christ seide by her fruit 300 Men shal hem ful knowen." Thanne saide I, "certeine, syr, Thou demest ful trewe."

Than thought I to frayne the first Of this foure ordres; And presed to the Prechoures, To proven hir wille. Ich highed to her house, To herken of more; And when I came to that court, 310 I gaped aboute, Swich a bild bold Y-buld upon erthe heighte Say I nought in certeyn Syththe a long tyme. I semed opon that hous, And yerne theron loked, Whow the pileres weren y-paint, And pulched ful clene, And queyntly y-corven 320 With curious knottes; With wyndowes wel y-wrought, Wyde up a-lofte, And thanne I entred in, And even forth wente; And al was walled that wone, Though it wiid were, With posternes in privité To pasen when hem liste; Orcheyardes and erberes 330 Evesed wel clene, And a curious cros Craftly entayled, With tabernacles y-tight To toten al abouten. The pris of a plough-lond Of penies so rounde To aparaile that pyler Were pure litel. Than I munte me forth 340 The mynstre to knowen, And awaytede a woon Wonderly wel y-bild, With arches on everiche half, And bellyche y-corven, With crochetes on corneres, With knottes of gold, Wyde wyndowes y-wrought, Y-wryten ful thikke, Shynen with shapen sheldes, 350 To shewen aboute, With merkes of merchauntes Y-medeled betwene, Mo than twentie and two Twyse y-noumbbred. Ther is non heraud that hath Half swich a rolle, Right as a rageman Hath rekned hem newe. Tombes upon tabernacles 360 Tylde opon lofte, Housed in hornes, Harde set abouten, Of armede alabaustre Clad for the nones, Maad opon marbel In many manner wyse, Knyghtes in ther conisante Clad for the nones; Alle it semed seyntes 370 Y-sacred opon erthe; And lovely ladies y-wrought Leyen by her sydes In manye gay garnemens, That weren gold beten. Though the tax of ten yere Were trewely y-gadered, Nolde it nought maken that hous Half, as I trowe. Than cam I to that cloystre, 380 And gaped abouten, Whough it was pilered and peynt, And portreyed wel clene, Al y-hyled with leed Lowe to the stones, And y-paved with poynttyl Ich point after other; With cundites of clene tyn Closed al aboute, With lavoures of latun 390 Loveliche y-greithed. I trowe the gaynage of the ground In a gret shyre Nold aparaile that place Oo poynt tyl other ende. Thanne was that chapitre house Wrought as a greet chirche, Corven and covered; And queyntelyche entayled, With semliche selure 400 Y-seet on lofte, As a parlement-hous Y-peynted aboute. Thanne ferd I into fraytoure, And fond there another, An halle for an hygh kynge An houshold to holden, With brode bordes abouten Y-benched wel clene, With wyndowes of glaas 410 Wrought as a chirche Than walkede I ferrer, And went al abouten, And seigh halles full heygh, And houses ful noble, Chambres with chymeneys, And chapeles gaye, And kychenes for an high kynge In casteles to holden; And her dortoure y-dight 420 With dores ful stronge; Fermerye and fraitur, With fele mo houses, And al strong ston wal Sterne upon heithe, With gaye garites and grete, And iche hole y-glased, And other houses y-nowe To herberwe the queene. And yet thise bilderes wiln beggen 430 A bagge ful of whete Of a pure pore man, That may onethe paye Half his rent in a yere, And half ben byhynde.

Than turned I ayen, Whan I hadde all y-toted, And fond in a freitoure A frere on a benche, A greet chorl and a grym, 440 Growen as a tonne, With a face so fat As a ful bleddere Blowen bretful of breth, And as a bagge honged On bothen his chekes, and his chyn With a chol lollede So greet as a gos ey, Growen al of grece; That al wagged his fleish 450 As a quick myre. His cope, that bi-clypped hym, Wel clene was it folden, Of double worstede y-dyght Doun to the hele. His kyrtel of clene whiit, Clenlyche y-sewed, Hit was good y-now of ground Greyn for to beren. I haylsede that hirdman, 460 And hendlich I sayde, "Gode sire, for Godes love! Canstou me graith tellen To any worthely wiight That wissen me couthe, Whow I shulde conne my Crede, Christ for to folwe, That levede lelliche hymselfe And lyvede therafter, That feynede no falshede, 470 But fully Chrise suwede? For sich a certeyn man Syker wold I trosten, That he wolde telle me the trewthe, And turne to non other. And an Austyn this ender day Egged me faste, That he wolde techen me wel, He plyght me his treuthe, And seyde me "certeyn, 480 Syghthen Christ deyed Oure ordre was euelles And erst y-founde."

"First, felawe," quath he, "Fy on his pilche! He is but abortiif, Eked with cloutes, He holdeth his ordynaunce With hores and theves, And purchaseth hem pryvyleges 490 With penyes so rounde. It is a pur pardoners craft, Prove and asay; For have they thy money, A moneth therafter Certes, theigh thou come agen, He wil the nought knowen. But, felawe, oure foundement Was first of the othere, And we ben founded fulliche 500 Withouten fayntise, And we ben clerkes y-cnowen, Cunnyng in schole, Proved in processyon By processe of lawe. Of oure order ther beth Bichopes wel manye, Seyntes on sundri stedes That suffreden harde; And we ben proved the priis 510 Of popes at Rome, And of grettest degré, As godspelles telleth."

"A! syre," quath I thanne, "Thou seyst a grete wonder; Sithen Christ sayd hymselfe To alle his diciples, 'Which of you that is most, Most shal he werche; And who is goere byforne, 520 First shal he serven.' And seyde he saugh Satan Sytten ful heyghe, And ful low ben y-leid. In lyknesse he tolde, That in povernesse of spyrit Is spedfullest hele; And hertes of heyne Harmeth the soule. And therefore, frere, farewel; 530 Here fynd I but pride. I preise nought thy prechyns, But as a pur myte."

And angerich I wandrede The Austyns to prove, And mette with a maistre of tho men, And meklich I seyde, "Maistre, for the moder love That Marie men calleth! Knowest thou ought there thou comest 540 A creature on erthe That coude me my Crede teche, And trewelich enfourme, Withouten flateryng fare, And nothing feyne, That folweth fulliche the feith, And non other fables, Withouten gabinge of glose, As the godspelles telleth? A Minoure hath me holly behyght 550 To helen my soule, For he seith that her secte Is sykerest on erthe, And ben kepers of the keye That Chrystendom helpeth, And puriche in poverte The apostles they suweth." "Allaas!" quath the frere, "Almost I madde in mynde, To sen hough this Minoures 560 Many men bygyleth. Sothly somme of tho gomes Hath more good hymselve Than ten knyghtes that I knowe, Of catel in cofres. In fraytoure they faren best Of al the foure ordres, And usun ypocricie In al that thei werchen, And prechen al of perfitnesse; 570 But loke now, I the prey, Nought but profre hem in privité A peny for a masse, And, but his name be prest, Put out myn eighe, Though he had more money hid Than marchauntes of wolle. Loke hough this loresmen Lordes betrayen, Seyn that they folwen 580 Fully Fraunceyses rewle, That in cotinge of his cope Is more cloth y-folden Than was in Fraunceis froc Whan he hem first made. And yet under that cope A cote hathe he furred With foyns, or with fichewes, Other fyn bevere, And that is cutted to the kne, 590 And queyntly y-botend, Lest any spiritual man Aspie that gyle. Fraunceys bad his brethern Bar-fot to wenden; Now han they buclede shone, For blenyng of her heles, And hosen in harde weder Y-hamled by the ancle, And spicerie sprad in her purs 600 To parten where hem luste. Lordes loveth hem wel, For they so lowe crouchen; But knowen men her cautel And her queynte wordes, Thei wolde worshypen hem Nought but a litle, The ymage of ypocricie Ymped upon fendes. But, sone, gif thou wilt ben seker, 610 Seche thou no ferther, We freres beth the firste, And founded upon treuthe; Paule primus heremita Put us hymselve Away into wildernesse, The world to despisen, And there we lengeden ful long, And leveden ful harde; For to alle this freren folke 620 Weren founden in tounes, And taughten untrewely, And that we wel aspiede. And for chef charyté, We chargeden us selven In amendyng of this men, We maden oure celles To ben in cytés y-set, To styghtle the puple, Prechyng and prayeng 630 As profetes shoulden. And so we holden us the hetheved Of al holy chirche. We han power of the Pope Purliche assoylen Al that helpen oure hous In helpe of her soules; To dispensen hem with In dedes of synne, Al that amendeth oure hous 640 In money other elles, With corne other catel, Or clothes to beddes, Other bedys or broche, Or breed for our fode. And gif thou hast any good, And wilt thyself helpen, Help us hertelich therwith, And here I undertake Thou shalt ben brother of oure hous, 650 And a book habben At the nexte chapitre Clerliche enseled. And than oure provincial Hath power to assoylen Alle sustren and bretheren That beth of oure ordre. And though thou conne nought the Crede, Knele down here, My soule I sette for thyn, 660 To asoile the clene, In covenaunt that thou come ageyne, And katel us brynge." And thanne loutede I adoun, Add he me leve grauntede; And so I parted hym fro, And the frere lefte.

Than seide I to myself, "Here is no bote; Here pride is the pater-noster 670 In preying of synne; Her Crede is coveytise:— Now can I no ferthere. Yet wil I fonden forth, And fraynen the Carmes." Than toted I into a taverne, And there I aspyede Two frere Carmes With a ful coppe. There I auntrede me in, 680 And aisliche I seyde, "Leve sire, for the Lordes love That thou on levest! Lere me to som man My Crede for to lerne, That lyveth in lel liif, And loveth no synne, And gloseth nought the godspel, But halt Godes hetes, And neyther money ne mede 690 Ne may hym nought letten, But werchen after Godes word, Withouten any faile. A Prechoure y-professed Hath plight me his trewthe To techen me trewely; But wouldest thou me tellen, For they ben certeyne men, And syker on to trosten, I would quiten the thy mede 700 As my myght were."

"A trefle," quath he, "trewely! His treweth is ful litel; He dynede nought with Dominic, Sithe Christ deide. For with the prynces of pryde The Prechours dwellen; They ben so digne as the devel That droppeth fro heven, With hartes of heynesse, 710 Whough halwen the cherches, And deleth in devynyté As dogges doth bones. Thei medeleth with mesages And mariages of grete; Thei leeven with lordes With lesynges y-nowe; Thei biggeth hem bichopriches With bagges of gold; Thei wilneth worchipes:— 720 But waite on her dedes. Harkne at Herdforthe How that they werchen, And loke when that they lyven And leeve as thou fyndest. They ben counseylours of kynges, Christ wot the sothe, Whou thei curreth kynges And her bak claweth. God leve hem laden wel 730 In lyvynge of hevene, And glose hem nought for her good To greven her soules. I pray the, where ben they pryvé With any pore whightes That may nought amenden her hous, Ne amenden hemselven? They prechen in proud herte, And preyseth her ordre, And werdlich worchype 740 Wilneth in erthe. Leeve it wel, lef man, And men right lokede, There is more pryvé pryde In Prechoures hertes, Than there lefte in Lucifere, Or he were lowe fallen. They bene dygne as dich-watere, That dogges in bayteth. Lok a ribaut of hem 750 That can nought wel reden His Rewel ne his Respondes, But be pure rote; Als as he were a connyng clerk, He casteth the lawes Nought lowly, but lordly, And lesynges lyeth. For right as Minoures Most hypocrice useth, Ryght so ben Prechoures proude 760 Purlyche in herte.

"But, chrysten creatoure, We Carmes firste comen, Even in Elyes tyme, First of hem alle; And lyven by oure Lady, And lelly her serven, In clene commun liif Kepen us out of synne; Nowt proude as Prechoures beth, 770 But preyen ful stylle. We couuen on no quentyse, Christ wot the southe! But bisyeth us in oure bedes, As us best holdeth. And, therfore, leeve leelman, Leeve that iche sigge, A masse of us meene men Is of more mede, And passeth alle prayers 780 Of this proude freres.— And thou wilt ghyven us any good, I wolde ye here graunten To taken al thy penaunce In peril of my soule; And tho thou conne nought thy Crede, Clene the assoyle, So that thou mowe amenden oure house With money other elles, With som catel, other corn, 790 Or cuppes of sylvere."

"Trewely, frere," quath I tho, "To tellen the the sothe, There is no peny in my pakke To payen for my mete. I have no good, ne no golde, But go thus abouten, And travaile ful trewely To wynnen with my fode. But woldest thou for Godes love 800 Lerne me my Crede, I shulde don for the wil, Whan I wele hadde."

"Trewely," quath the frere, "A fole I the holde:— Thou woldest nought wetten thy fote, And woldest fich kachen. Oure pardon and oure preieres So beth they nought parten, Oure power lasteth nought so feer, 810 But we som peny fongen.

"Fare wel," quath the frere, "For I mot hethen fonden, And hyen to an house-wiif That hath us byquethen Ten pound in hir testament. To tellen the sothe, Ho draweth to the deth-ward; But yet I am in drede Leste ho turne hire testament, 820 And therfore I hyghe To haven hire to oure hous, And henten, gif I mighte, An anuel for myne owen use, To helpen to clothe." "Godys forbode!" quath his felawe, "But ho forth passe Whil ho is in purpos With us to departen! God let hir no lengere lyven! 830 For letteres ben manye."