Passus quintus de visione
THe Kyng and his knights to the kyrke wente
To here mattens of the day and þe masse after
Than waked I of my winking , & wo was withal
That I ne had slept sadder & sighen more
And er I had faren a furlonge Fentise me hente
That I ne might farder a fote for defaute of slepinge
And sat softlie adoune and sayde my beleue
And so I bablid on mi beads , thei brought me aslepe
And than I sawe moch more than I before of tolde
For I se the felde ful of folke , that I before of sayde
And how Reason can araien hym al þe realme to preche
And wyth a Cros afore þe King comsed thus to techen
He preuid that these Pestilences were for pure synne
And the southwestorne winde on Satter-daie at euen
Was partly for pure pryde , and for no poynt els
Piries and plumtryes were puffed to the erth
In ensample the segges ye should done the better
Beches and brode okes , were blowen to the grounde
Turned vpwarde her tayles in tokeninge of drede
That dedlie synne er domes-daye shal fordone hem al
Of thys matter I might mamelie ful longe
And I shall saye as I sawe so me God helpe
How partely afore the people , Reason began to prech
He bad waster go worke , what he best coude
And wynne hys wastyng wyth som manner craft
He prayed Pernel her purple to lete
And kepe it in her cofer for cattel at her nede
Tomme Stowne he taught to taken two staues
And feche Felice home from the wynen / wy[u]en pyne
And he warned Wat his wife was to blame
That her hed was worth half a marke & his hod not worth a grot
And he bad Bet kut a bow in twain
And beate Beton therwith , but if she wyll werke
And than he charged chapmen to chasten her chyldren
Let no winning hem forwany , whyle they be yonge
Ne for no ponste / po[u]ste of pestilence , please hem not oute of reason
My sier said to me , and so did my dame ,
That the leuer child , the more lore behoueth
And Salomon said the same , that Sapientie made .
Qui parcit virge , odit filium .
The Englyshe of thys latine , who-so wyl knowe
Who-so spareth the sprynge , spilleth the chyldren
And sythen he prayed prelates and priestes togither
That ye preache to the people , preue on your-selfe ,
And do it in dede , it shal drawe you to good ,
If ye lyue as ye learne vs , we shal leue you þe better ,
And sithen he radde religion her rule to holde
Lest the king and hys councel , your commons apere
And be stuardes of your stedes , tyl ye be ruled better .
And sithen he counseled the kinge hys commons to loue
It is thy tresure if treson ne were , & treacle at thy nede
And sithen he praied þe Pope , haue pyty on holy church
And ere he geue any grace , gouerne fyrst him-felfe / [s]elfe .
And ye þat haue lawes to kepe , let trueth be your couetise
More then gold or gifts , if ye wil god please
For who-so contrarieth trueth , he telleth in the gospel ,
That god knoweth him not , ne no saynte in heauen .
Amen dico vobis , nescio vos .
And ye that seketh saint Iames , & saintes at Rome
Seke saynt truth , for he may saue you all ,
Qui cum patre et filio , that fayre hem befall ,
That sueth my sermon , and thus sayd Reason .
Than ranne Repentaunce , and rehersed his teme
And gart Wyl to wepe water with hys eyen ,
Pernell proude herte platte hyr to the earth
And laye longe or she loked , and lorde mercy cryed
And behyghe to hym that vs all made
She shoulde vnsowe hir serke , and set theron heere
Shal neuer hygh hert me hente but hold me lowe
And suffer me to be myssayde , and so dyd I neuer
But now wil I meke me , and mercy beseche
For all thys I haue hated in my hert .
Than Lechoure sayd alas , & on our lady he cryed ,
Wyth þat he should the saturday , for seuen yere after
Drynke but myd the day , and dyne but once
Enuy wyth heuy hert asked after Christe
And carfully Mea culpa , he comsed to shewe
And was as pale as a pellet , in the Palsey he semed
And clothed in Caurymaury , I can it not discriue ,
In kyrtyll and curtepy , and a knyfe by hys syde
Of a Fryers frocke were the foresleaues
And as a leeke that had lyed longe in the sunne ,
So loked he wyth leane chekes lourynge foule
His body was bowne for Wrath , þat he bote his lips
And wringing with the fist to wrek him-self he thought
With workes or with wordes , whan he se his time
Ech word that he warped was of an edders tonge
Of chidyng & of chalenging was his chiefe lyfelode
With backebyting & bisme , & bearing of false witnes
This was al his curtesy wher þat euer he shewed him
I wuld be shryuen quod this shrew , if I for shame durst ,
I wuld be gladder by god , þat Gibbe had mischaunce ,
Than if I had wonne this weke a wey of Essexe chese
I haue a neighbour nye me , I haue noyed him ofte
And lowen on him to lords , to don him lose his siluer
And made his frend be his foe , through my false tong
His grace & his good happes greueth me ful sore ,
Betwene many and many , I make debate oft
That both lyfe and lyme is loste throughe my spech .
And when I mete him in market that I most hate
I halse hym hendlech , as I hys frende were
For he is doughtier then I , I dare do no other
And had I maistry and myght , god wot my wyl .
And whan I come to þe kyrke , & should knele to þe rode
And pray for the people , as the prieste teacheth
For pilgrames & for palmers , & for al þe people after
Than I cry on my knees , þat Christe gyue him sorow
That bare away my bole , & my broke shete .
Away from the aulter than turne I myne eyen
And beholde how Elen hath a newe cote
I wyshe that it were myne , with all the webbe after
And at mens lesinge I laughe , that lyketh mine hert
And for their wynninge I wepe , and wele the tyme ,
And deme that they do yll , thoughe I do well worse
Who-so vndermineth me hereof , I hate him deadlye after
I would that ech a wight were my knaue
For who-so hath more then I , þat angreth me sore
And thus I lyue loueles lyke a Luther dogge
That al my body bolneth for bytter of my gall
I myght not eten many yeres as a man ought
For Enuy and euyll wyll is euil to defie
May no suger nor no swete thing aswag my swelling
Ne no Diapenidion driue it from myne herte
Nether shriftnether / shrift nether shame , but shraping of mi maw .
Yes redily quod repentaunce , & red him to þe beste
Sorowe for synnes , saluation is of soules .
I am sorye quod that segge , I am but selde other
And þat maketh me thus megre , for I ne mai me veng
Amonges Burgesis haue I be dwelling at London
And gard backbiting be a broker to blame mens ware
Whan he solde and I not , then was I ready ,
To lie & to lour on mi neighbour , & to lak his chaffer
I wil amend this if I maie , through might of god almighty
Now awaketh Wrath , with two white eyen
And muelynge wyth the nose and his necke hanging
I am Wrath quod he , I was continually a fryer
And the couentes gardiner for to graft Impes
On limitors and listers , lesynges I imped
Tyll they beare leaues of smal speach , lords to please
And sithen they blosomed abrod in bour to hir shrifts
Shew her shrifts to hem , than shryue hem to her persons
And persons haue perceiued that Friers part with hem
These possessours preach , and depraue Fryers
And Friers findeth hem in default , as folk bear witnes
And whan thei prech the people in many places about
I Wrath walke with hem , & wish hem of my bokes
Thus thei speken of mi spiritualtie , & despise ech other
Tyl they be both beggers , & by my spiritualtie libben
Or els all ryche , and ryden aboute ,
I Wrath haue such a fortune , þat I folow stil this folk
I haue an aunte to Nune , and an Abbesse both
Her had leuer swowne or swelt , than suffer any paine ,
I haue bene coke in hir kitchen , and her couent serued ,
Many monthes with hem , and wyth Monkes both
I was the Priores potager , and other pore ladies
And made hem Iowts of ianglyng , þat dame Ione was a bastard
And dame Clarence a knightes daughter , a cok-olde was hyr syre .C
And dame Puel / P[ern]el a priest file , priores was she neuer
For she had child in cherytyme , al our chapter it wist
Of wyked wordes ( I wrath ) her wortis made
Tyl thou list and thou liest , lopon oute atonce / at once
And eyther hyt other vnder the cheke
Had thei had kniues bi Chryst either had kylled other
Saynt Gregori was a good Pope & had a good for-wyt
That no prioresse were priest , for þat he prouided
Lest happeli thei had had no grace to hold harlatri in
For they are ticle of her tonges & must al secretes tel
Among monks I myght be and mani tyme I shamen
For they ben many fel frekes my ferys to spie
Bothe prior and Subpryor and oure pater abbas
And if I tel any tales they taken hem togethers
And do me fast fridayes to bred and to water
I am chalenged & chyden in chapter house , as I a chyld were
And balased on þe bare arse & no brech betwen
Therfore haue I no lykinge with tho leods to wonne
I ete there vnhende fyshe , and feble ale drynke
Other-while whan wine cometh , I drink wine at euen
I haue a flux of a foule mouthe , wel fiue daies after
Al the wyckednes that I wote by any of mi brether
I kouth it in our cloystur , that al our Couent wot it
Now repent you quod Repentaunce & reherce you neuer
Councel that thou knowest by countenaunce ne by ryght
And drynke not ouer delicatelie ne to depe neyther
That thie wyl because therof to wrath myght turne
Esto sobrius he sayde and assoyled hym after
And bad hym wyl to wepe his wykednes to amende
And than came Couetis can I hym not descriue
So hungrelye and hollowe : So sternly hym loked
He was bittil browed and babburlyppyd also
Wyth two blered eyen as a blinde hagge
And as a lethern purse lolled hys chekes
Wel syder then hys chynne they sheuered for olde
And as a bound man of his bacon his berd was bidrauled
With an hood on his hed , & a lousye hat aboue
And a tauny taberde of twelue wynter age
Al totorne and bawdie and ful of lyce crepinge
But yf that a louse coude haue lopen the better
She had not walkt on þat welth so was it thred-bare .
I haue ben couetous quod thys katife I be-know it here
For somtyme I serued Symme at style
And was hys prentice plight , his profyt to wayt
Fyrst I lerned to lie a leefe , on ther / o[u]ther twayne
Wyckedlye to weye was mi fyrst lesson
To Wy and to Wynchester I wente to the fayre
With mani maner merchandise as mi master me hight
Ne had the grace of Gyle I-goo amongest my chaffer
It had bene vnsolde thys seuen yere so me god helpe
Than draue I me among drapers , my donet to lerne
To drawe the lyser a longe the lenger it semed
Amonge the riche Rayes I rendred a lesson
To broche them with a packenedle & plitte hem togithers
And put hem in a presse and pynned them therin
Til ten yardes or twelue had tolled owte .xiii. / thirtene
My wyfe was a webster and wollen cloth made
She spake to spynsters to spynnen it out
And the pound þat she paied be paised a quartern more
Than myne owne auncer , who-so wayed trueth
I bought her barely malte , she brewed it to sell
Penyale and puddyng ale she poured togethers
For laborars and lowe folke that lay by it selfe .
The best ale lay in my boure or els in my chambre
And whoso bummed therof bought it there-after
A gallon for a grote god wote no lesse
And yet it came in cupemele thys craft she vsed .
Roose the Regrater was her ryght name
She hath holden hukkerth al hire lyfe tyme
And I swere nowe sothelick that sinne wolde I let
And neuer wyckedly wey , ne wicked chaffre vse ,
But wenden to walsingham , and my wyfe Alis
And byd þe Roode of bromholme bring me out of dette
Repentest thou euer ( quod Repentaunce ) Or restitucion madest ?C
Yes once I was herberd quod he , with a hepe of chapmen
I rose whan they were at rest & rifled their males
That was not restitucion quod repentaunce but robers theft
Thou hadest bene better worthy be hanged therfore
Than for al that , that thou hast here shewed .
I toke rifling for restitution quod he , for I neuer red boke
And I can no french in faith , but of þe fer end of Norfolk
Used þou euer vsarie quod repentaunce , in al thy life-time ?
Nay sothly he sayde saue in my youthe
I lerned amonge Lumbards and Iewes a lesson
To wey pence with a payes and pare the heuyest
And leue it for loue of the crosse to ley a wed & lesen it
Suche dedes I dyd wryte , yf he his daye brake
I haue mo maners by reragis , than throughe misereatur / miseretur & commodat
I haue lent lords & ladies mi chaffer
And bene her broker after and bought it my-selfe
Escheaunges and cheuisauncis with such chaffer I dele
And lende folke that lease wyll , a lyp at euerie noble ,
And wyth lumbards letters I lad golde to Rome
And toke it by tale here and tolde hem there lesse .
Lendest thou euer lordis for loue of her meinteinaunce ?
Yea I haue lent lordes that loued me neuer after
And haue made menie a knight both mercer & draper
That paied not for his prentishode one paire of glouis
Hast thou pitie on pore men þat must nedes borowe ?
I haue as mich pitie on þe pore as pedler hath of cats
That kilth hem if he can hem catch , for couet of her skins
Art þou manlich emong thy neibours of thi mete & drinke ?
I am holden quod he as hinde as is hound in kitchin .
Amongest my neibours namely such a name I haue .
God leue / le[n]e þe neuer quod repentaunce , but þou repent þe rather
Grace on thys ground thie good wyll to byset
Ne thyne heyres after þe haue Ioye of þat thou winest
Ne thine executors wel biset þe syluer þat thou them leuest
And þat was wonne with wrong with wicked men be dispendid
For were I frier of þe house ther good feith & chariti is
I nold cope vs wyth thy cattel ne oure brike amende
Ne haue a penye to mi pettaunce so God my soul help
For þe best boke in our house , bryght golde if it were ,
And I wyst wetterlie thou were such as thou tellest .
Seruus es alterius cum fercula pinguia queris
pane tuo potius vescere liber eris
Thou art an vnkynde creature I can the not assoile
Tyl thou make restitusion and rekenyng with them al
And syth that reason rolle it in the regester of heauen
That þou hast made eche man good , I may þe not assoyle .
Non demititur peccatum nisi / [donec] restituatur ablatum
For al that haue of thy good haue God my trouth
Bene holden at the heygh dome to help the to restitue
Whoso leueth not this be soth loke in þe psalter clause
In miserere mei deus whether I mene truthe
Ecce enim veritatem dilexisti & cetera .
Shal neuer workeman in this worlde thriue with that thou winest
Cum sancto sanctus eris Constru me that in englysh ,
Than wax þat shrew in wanhop & wold hang him-selfe
Ne had repentaunce þe rather reconforted him in this maner
Haue merci in thy minde & with thi mouth beseh it
For Gods mercy is more than al hys other workes
And al wikednes in þe world þat man mai work or think
Is no more , to þe mercie of God than in þe sea a glied
Omnis iniquitas quantum ad misericordiam dei
Est quasi scintilla in medio maris
Therfore haue þou merci in mind & merchandise leue it ,
For thou hast no good ground to get therwith wastell
But if it were wyth thy toung or else with thy two hands
For the good þat thou hast gotten , began all with falshed
And as long as þou liuist therwith þou paist not but borowst
And if þou wyt neuer to which ne to whome to restore
Bere it to the byshop and byd hym of hys grace
Biset it hymselfe as best is for thy soulle .
For he shall answere for the at the heygh dome
For the & for manie moo þat man shall giue a reckening
What he lerned you in lent , leue you none other
And þat he lent you of oure lord god to let you from sinne
Now begynneth Gloton for to go to shryfte
And carieth him to the kyrkward hys coppe to shew
And Beton the bruster bad hym god morowe
And asked of hym with that , whetherwarde he wolde
To holy churche quod he , for to here masse
And sythen I woulde be shreuen and syn no more .
I haue good ale gossip quod he , Gloton wold þou assay
Hast thou ought in thy purse any hote spices ?
I haue pepper & piones quod he , & a pound of garlyk
And a farthing worth of fennel sede for fasting dayes
Than goeth Gloton in and greate othes after
Sus the souteres sat on the benche
Wat the warner and hys wyfe bothe
Tyme the tynker and tweine of hys prentices
Hycke the hackeney man , and Hughe the medler
Claryse of Cockeslane , and the clerke of the church
Dawe the diker and a dosen other
Saint Pierce of Pridy , and Pernell of Flaunders
A Ribibour , a ratoner , a rakier of chepe ,
A Roper , a reding king , and rose the disheris
Godfray of garlyke-hyue , and Gryffin the walshe
And vpholders an heape early by the morrowe
Geuen Gloton wyth glade chere good ale to hansell ,
Clement the cobler cast of hys cloke
And at the newe fayre , he nempned it to sell
Hycke the hackeney man hytte his hode after ,
And bade Bete the bocher be on hys syde
There were chapmen ichose thys chaffer to prayse
Who-so hath þe hood should haue amendes of þe cloke
Two rysen vp in rape , and rouned togythers
And praysed these penyworthes aparte by the selfe
They could not by their conscience accorden in truthe
Tyll Robyn the roper arose by the south
And named him for an vmper that no debate nere
Hycke the hosteler hadde the cloke
In couenaunt that Clement should the cuppe fyl
And haue Hyckes hodde hostler , & holden him serued
And who-so repented rathest should aryse after
And greten syr gloton with a gallon of ale ,
There were laughyng & lourynge , & let go the cuppe
And sytten so tyl euensonge , and songen somewhyle
Tyll glotton had ygolped a galon and a gyle ,
His guttes began to gothlen as two gredy sowes
He pyssed a pottell in a Pater noster whyle ,
And blew his round rewet at his rugge bones ende
That al that harde that horne , helde his nose after
And wished it had bene wyped with a wyspe of firses
He might neyther stepe nor stand , or he a staffe had
And than gan he to go , lyke a glewe mans bytch
Sometyme a-syde , and sometyme a-rere
As who-so layeth lynes for to latche foules
And whan he drough the dore than dimmed his eyen
He stombled on þe threshold , & threwe to the earth
Clement the cobler caught hym by the myddle
Forto lyft hym a lofte , and laied him vpon his knees
And Gloton was a great churle & a gryme in þe lifting
And kought vp a candle / ca[u]dle in Clementes lappe
There is none so hongry hounde in Herforte-shere
Durst lap of tho leuinges , so vnlouely they smaught
With al the wo of thys world , his wife & hys wench
Bare hym home to hys bedde & brought him therin
And after al this excesse he had an accidie
That he slope saturday & sonday , til sunne went to rest
Than waked he of hys wynking , & wyped hys eyes ,
The first word that he warped was , wher is þe bolle
Hys wife gan edwite him tho , how wickedly he liued
And Repentaunce right so rebuked hym that tyme .
As with words & workes thou wroughst yll in thy lyfe
Shriue þe & be ashamed therof , & shew it with thi mouth
I Gloton quod the grome , gyltye me yelde
That I haue trespaced with my tong , I can not tel howe
Sworne gods soule , & so god me helpe & þe holidome
There no nede was nyne hundred tymes
And ouer se me at my soupe , and sometyme at nones
That I Gloton gyrte vp , ere I had gone a mile .
And I-spilt þat might be spared & spent on some hungrye
Ouer delicatly on fasting daies dronken and eaten both
And sat sumtime so long there þat I slept & eate at once
And hied to þe mete er none whan fasting daies were
This shoing shrift quod repentaunce , shal be merit to þe
And than gan gloton gred and great dole to make
For hys lewde lyfe that he lyued had
And vowed to fast for honger and for thurste
Shal neuer fishe on friday diffien in my wombe
Tyl abstynence myne aunt haue gyuen me leue
And yet haue I hated her al my lyfe-tyme
Than came Sloth al beslabered with two slymy eyne
I must sit sayde the Segge or els I must nedes nap
I maye not stand ne stoupe ne with-out mi stole knele
Were I brought abed but if my talende it made
Sould no ringing do me ryse or I were ripe to dine
He began Benedicite with a belke and hys brest knoked
And raskled and rored and rutte at the last
What wake reuk / re[n]k quod repentaunce , & rape þe to shrift
If I should dye by thys daye me lyst not to loke
I can not parfitly mi pater noster as þe preist it singeth
But I can ryms of Robenhode & Rand of / Rand[olf] erl of chester
But of our lorde or our lady , I lerne nothyng at all .
I haue made vowes .xl. / forty & forgotten them on þe morowe
I performed neuer penaunce as the preist me hyght
Ne right sorie for my sinnis yet was I neuer
And if I byd any bedes but if yt be wrath
That I tel with my tounge is two mile from my herte
I am occupied euery daye holy daye and other
Wyth Idle tales at the ale and otherwhile in church
Gods payne & his passion full selde thynke I theron
I vysited neuer feble men ne fettred folke in puttes
I haue leuer here an harlotry , or a somers game
Or leasynges to laughe at , and bilye my neighbours
Then all þat euer marke made , Mathi , Iohn , & Lucas .
And vigiles and fastynge dayes , al these let I passe
And lye in bedde in lent , & my lemman in myne armes .
Tyl mattens & masse be done , & than go I to þe fryers
Come I to Ite missa est , I holde me serued ,
I am not shryuen sometyme , but if sickenes it make
Not twyse in two yere , and than vp gosse I shriue me
I haue ben prieste and person passynge thyrty winter
Yet can I nether solfe ne singe , ne sayntes lyues read
But I can find in a field , or in a furlong an hare ,
Better than in Beatus vir , or in Beati omnes ,
Construe one clause well , & kenne it to my parishens
I can holde loue-dayes , and here a reues rekenynge ,
And in Cannon or in decretals , I can not read a lyne
If I begge & borowe ought , but if it be tayled
I forget it as yerne , as if men me it aske
Syxe sythes or seuen , I forsake it wyth othes
And thus tene I a true man ten hundred tymes
And my seruauntes somtymes their salary is behind
Ruth is to here þe rekning , whan we shal make acounts
So with wicked wil and with wrath , mi workemen I pay
If any do me a benifite , or helpe me at nede
I am vnkind against his curtesy , & can not vnderstand it
For I haue & haue had somedeale haukes maners
I am not lured with loue , but ought be vnder þe thombe
That kindnes that mine euenchristen kyd me ferther
Syxe sythes I slougth , haue forgotten it syth
In spence , & in sparing of spence , I-spilt many a time
Both fleshe and fyshe , and many other vitailes
Both breade and ale , butter mylke and chese
For-slouthed in my seruice tyll it myght serue no man
I ranne aboute in youth , and gaue me not to lerning
And euer sith haue ben beggery for my foule slouth
Heu mihi quia sterilem duxi vitam iuuenilem
Repentest þou quod repentaunce , & ryght with he swowned
Tyll Vigilate the veile set water at hys eyes
And flat it on hys face , and fast on hym cried ,
And sayde ware the , for wanhope wyl the betray
I am sory for my synnes , say to thy-selfe
And beat thy-selfe on þe brest , & byd god of grace ,
For is no gylte here so greate but þat hys goodnes is more
Than sate Sloth vp , & fayned hym Swith
And made a vowe tofore god , for his soule Slothe ,
Shal no Sonday be this seuen yere , but sikenes it let
That I ne shal do me or day , to the dere church
And here mattens and masse , as I a monke were
Shall no ale after mete hold me thence
Tyll I haue euensong harde I behote to the Roode
And yet woll I yelde agayne , if I so muche haue
All that I wyckely wan , sythen I wytte had .
And thoughe my liuelode lake , letten I nell
That eche man ne shall haue his or I hence wend
And wyth the residue and the remnaunt by þe rode of Chester
I shal seke Truth erst , or I see Rome
Robert the robber , on Reddite , loked ,
And for there was not wherof , he wept swyth sore
And yet the synfull shrewe sayde to hym-selfe
Christe that on Caluerie apon the crosse didest
Tho Dismas my brother besought you of grace
And haddest mercy on that man for Memento , sakeN
So Rue on thys robber that Reddere , ne hath , N
Ne neuer wene to wynne wyth craft that I knowe ,
But for thy mykyl mercy mitigation I beseche
Ne dapme / dampne me not at domisday for þat I dyd so yll .
What befel on this felowe , I can not fayre shewe
Well I wot he wept fast water wyth hys eyen
And knowleged his gilt , to Christ yet eft-sones
That Penitentia hys Pryck , he shoulde polishe newe
And leap wyth hym ouer lande all hys lyfe- tyme
For he had leyne by Latro Lucifers aunte
And than Repentaunce Ruth , & radde hem al to knele
For I shall besech for al sinful our Sauiour of grace
To amende vs of our misdedes and mercy to vs all ,
Now god quod he , þat of thi goodnes coud þe world make
And of naught madest ought , & man most like thi-selfe
And sythen suffredest for synne , a sekenes to vs all
And al for þe best as I leue what-euer þe boke telleth .
O felix culpa . O necessarium peccatum , & cetera .
For that synne thy sonne sent was to the earth
And became man of a mayde , mankynde to saue
And makest thy-selfe with thy sonne , & vs synful ylyche .
Faciamus hominem ad imaginem et similitudinem nostram , Et
alibi . Qui manet in charitate in deo manet , et deus in eo .
And sythe with thy selfe sonne in our suite didest / di[e]dest ,
On good Fryday for mans sake , at full tyme of þe day
There thy-selfe in thy sonne , no sorow in death feled .
But in our sect was the sorowe , and thy son it ladde .
Captiuam duxit captiuitatem .
The sonne for sorowe therof , lost light for a tyme ,
At middaie whan most light is , & meletime of saintes .
Feddest with thi fresh bloud our forefathers in darknes
Populus qui ambulabat in tenebris , vidit lucem magnam .
And by þe lyght þat leaped out of þe , Lucifer was blind
And blewe all thy blessed into þe blysse of Paradyse ,
The thyrde daye after thou yeldest into our sute .
A synful Mary the sawe , er saynt Mary thy dame ,
And al to solace synful , thou suffredest it soner .
Non veni vocare iustos , sed peccatores ad penitenciam .
And al that Marcke made , Mathew Iohn & Lucas
Of thy doubty dedes were done in our Armes .
Verbum caro factum est , et habitauit in nobis .
And by so muche me semeth the siker we may
Bidde and beseche if it be thy wyll ,
That art our father & our brother , be merciful to vs
And haue ruth on these ribauds þat repent hem-selfs sore .
Than hent Hope an horn of Deus tu conuersus viuificabis nos .
And blew it with Beati quorum remisse sunt iniquitates .
That all Sayntes in heauen songen at once ,
Homines et Iumenta saluabis quemadmodum mul
tiplicasti , misericordiam tuam deus
A thousand of men tho throngenN togither
Criden vpwarde to Christe , & to hys cleane mother
To haue grace to go wyth hem , Truth to seken .
And there was none so wyse , the way thyther could
But blusterynge forth as beastes ouer bankes & hils
Tyll late was and longe , that they a lade mette
Appareld as a Paynime in pylgrymes wyse .
He bare a burden bounden with a brode lyste
In a wythe wandes wyse bounden aboute
A bole and a bagge he bare by hys syde ,
An hundred Amples on hys hatte sette
Sygnes of Sinay , and Shelles of Calice
And many a crouch on his cloke and kayesN of Rome
And the vernicle before for men should knowe .
And se by hys signes , whome he sought hadde ,
Thys folke frained him fyrst , from whence he came .
From Sinay he seid , and from our Lords sepulchre .
In Bethlem and in Babilon , I haue bene in both ,
In Ermonie and Alexander , and many other placis .
Ye maye see by my signis , that be set on my hatte
That I haue walked full wyde , in wette aud / a[n]d in drye
And sought many good Seints , for my soulis helpe
Knoweste thou not a corssent , that men call truth ?
Coudst þou not wish / not wis[sen] vs þe wai , where þat wight wonnith ?
Naye so me God helpe , seyd that gome than
I saw neuer Palmer wyth poke nor wyth scrippe
Aske after hym ere , tyll nowe in thys place .
Peter , quod a plowe-man , and put forth hys heade
I knowe hym as kyndly , as clerke doeth hys bokes
Conscience and kynd wytte , kennid me to his place ,
And dyd me suren hym sykerly , to serue hym for euer
Both to sowe and to set , the whyle I swinke myght .
I haue ben hys folower , all thys fifty wynter
Boeth sowen his seed and sued hys beastes
Wythin and wythoute , I-wayted his profite .
I dyke and delue and do that truth hoteth
Some tyme I sowe and some tyme I thresh
In Tailars and tinkars craft , what truth can deuise
I wene and I wynde and do what truth hoteth .
For though I sey it my-self , I serue hym to paye .
Iche haue myne hyre well and other-whyles more .
He is prestiste payar that pore men knoweth ,
He ne withhalt none helk his hire , þat he ne hath it at euen
He is as lowe as a lambe , and louely of spech .
And if ye wyll wytte where he wonnith :
I shall wysh you witterly , the hye waye to his placeN .
Yea leue Pers quod these pilgrams & proferd him hyre
For to wende with them to Truths dwellyng place
Nay bi my souls helth quod piers & gan for to swere
I nold fong a ferthing for saynt Thomas shrine
Treuth wold loue me þe worse long time therfor after
And if you wil to wend wel this is the way thither
Ye must go through mekenes both men & wiues
Til you cume in to Conscience that Christ wit the soth
That ye louen oure lorde God leuest of al thyngs
And that youre neybours next in no wyse appeyre
Otherwise than thou woldest he wroght to thy-selfe .
And so boweth furth bi a broke beeth buxome of spech
Tyll you fynden a forde your fathers honoreth
Honora patrem et matrem & cetera .
Wade in that water and wash you wel there
And you shal leape the lyghter al your lyfe after
And so shalt thou see , Swere not but if it be for nede
And namely on Idle the name of God almyghtie
Than shaltþou / shalt þou come by a croft but come thou not therin
That croft hight Couet not mens catel ne her wiues
Ne none of hyr saruants that noyen hem might
Loke ye breken no bows / [v]ows there but if thei be your own
Two stocks ther stonden , and stynt you not ther
Thei hight Stele not , ne Sle not strike forth bi both
And leue them on the left hande & loke not thereafter
And holde wel thie holyday heigh till euen
Than shalt thou blensh at a berch , bere no false witnes
He is frithed in Florens and other foes manye
Loke thou pluck no plant there for perels of thi soule
Than shal ye see Seysoth so it be to done
In no maner els not , for no mans byddynge
Than shalt thou come to a court as clere as the sun
The mote is of mercie the maner a-bowte
And al the walles bene of wyt to holden wil oute
And kerneled wyth christendome , mankinde to saue
Botrased with beleue so or thou beest not saued
And al the houses bene hyled hales and chambres
With no lead but with loue & louespech as bretherne
The bryge is of bide well the better may thou spede
Euery piller is of pennaunce of praiers of saynts
Of almes deds are þe hokes that the gates hangen on
Grace hyghN the Gate warde a good man forsothe
His man hight Amend you , for many men hym knowith
Telleth hym thys token that truth wyt the soth
I performed the penaunce that the priest me enioyned
And am full sorie for my sinnes & so shal I euer
Whan I thinke theron though I were a pope
Beddeth amende you meken hym , tyl his master once
To wayne / way[u]e vp the wyket that the woman shute
Tho Adam and Eue eten apples vnrosted .
Pena / Pe[r Euam] cunctis clausa est , et per virginem
Mariam patefacta est
For he hath the keye & the clicket though þe Kyng slepe
And if grace graunt to the to come in thys wyse
Thou shalt see in thie-selfe Truth in thyne herte
In a cheyne of charytie as thou a childe were
To suffer hym and se not agaynst thy Siers wyll
And beware thou of Wrath that is a wyked shrewe
He hath Enuye to hym that in thy hert sitteth
And poketh for pride to praise thy-selfe
The boldnes of the benefites maketh the blynde than
And than wast þou dryuen oute as dewe & the dore closede
Keyed and clyketted to kepe the wyth-oute
Happilye an hundred wynter er thou eft entre
Thus mightest þou lesen his loue , to let wel by thy-selue
And neuer happily efte enter , but grace if thou haue .
And there are seuen systerne that seruen truth euer
And are porters of the posterns , that to þe place bilong
That one of hem hight Abstinence , Humilitie an other
Charitie and chastitie , bene the chiefe maydens there .
Pacience and Peace , do much people helpe
Largenes the Ladye , lettith in full many
She hath holpe an hundred out of the deuils pinfold
And who is sybbe to these seuen , so me God helpe
He is wonderly welcome , and fayre vnderfonge .
And but ye be sybbe to some of these systers seuen
It is ful hard , bi my head , quod Piers , for any of you al
To get ingong at any gate there , but grace be þe more
Now by Christ quod a cutpurs than , I haue no kyn there
Nor I quod an apewarde , by ought þat I can knowe .
Wyt God quod a wafrester , wyst I this forsoth
Shuld I neuer furdir a fote for ani friers preaching .
Yis quod Piers þe plowman , & pokid hem al to good
Mercie is a mayden there , hath myght ouer them all
And she is sybbe to all synfull and her sonne also .
And through the helpe of hem two , hope ye none other
Thou might get grace therby , so thou go bytyme .
Bi saint Paul quod a pardoner , on a-venture I be not knowen there
I wyll go fetch my boxe with my brenets / bre[u]ets al .
And also a bull wyth a Byshops letters .
By Christ , quod a common woman , thy company wil I folow
Thou shalt saye I am thy sister , I ne wote whether thei be gon
The vision of
Lechoure
Enuy .
The vision of
Wrath .
Nunnes
How piers
teachethe
the waye
to trewth
teachethe
the waye
to trewth
Yet
And
Fol.xxi.
Repen
taunce
taunce
Pernell
His
Fol.xxii
Amonges
Of
Fol.xxiii.
Gregorie
Well
And
Fol.xxiiii
That
Than
Fol.xxv.
Gloton
Wat
And
Fol.xxvi
Ouer
I haue
Fol.xxvii
For
But
Fol.xxviii
The
And
Fol.xxix
Ye
The
Fol.xxx.
Thus
The vision of
Pierce Ploughman ,
F.i.
Pierce Ploughman ,
F.ii.
Pierce Ploughman .
F.iii.
The vision of
Pierce Ploughman .
The vision of
The vision of
G.i.
Pierce Ploughman .
The vision of
G.ii.
Pierce Ploughman .
The vision of
G.iii.
Pierce Ploughman .
The vision of
Pierce Ploughman .
Pierce Ploughman ,
H.i.
The vision of
Pierce Ploughman ,
H.ii.
The vision of