theP king and his knightes / to the chirch went

To here matins of the daie / & the masse after

Then wakid I of my winking / & I was woe withall

That I had not slept longerLX / and sene more

But ere I had gone a furlong / Feyntnesse me hent

That I might not won foot farther / for defaute of slepe

I set me softlie doune / and said my beleue /

And so I babled on my beades / till thei brought me aslepe

Then sawe I muche more / then I before of told

I se the feild full of folke / that I before of seide

And howe didT araie him / all the realme to preache

And with a Crosse before the king / began thus to teache

He prouid that {.} thise pestilences / were for pure sinne

And the Southwesterne wynde / on Saterdaie at even

Was plainly for pure pride / And for nothing elles

Piryis and plometreis / were puffed to th'erthe

In exemple {of} you peopleT / shulde do the better

Beeches and bro{k}deP Okes / were blowen to the grounde

The rootes turned vpwarde / in tokenyng of drede

That deadlie synne /T or domes daie / shall fordone them all

Of this matere I might / mombleLX full long

But I shall say as [I] se / so me god helpe

howe opinlie afore the people / Reason beganne to preache

He bad Wastour /T go worke / what he best coulde

And wynne his wasting / with some manere crafte

He praide Pernelle / hir purpleLX to laie of

And kepe it in hir Cofre / for catell at hir nede

Tomme StouneP he taught / to take ij / two staues

And feche Felice home / Fro the wiue pynT

He warned wat / his wife was to blame

That hir head was worth half a marc / & his hood not worthe a groteTC

And bad Bettes cutt a bough or tweyne

And beat Beton therwith / but if she wold worke

And then he Chargid chapmen / to chasten their childerne

Lat no winnyng them spillLX / while they be yong

Nor for no poureLX of pestilence / please them not without reason

My syre said to me / and so did my dame

That the dearer childe / the more teaching {h}behouith

And Salomon said the same / that Sapience made

The english of this latine / who-so will knowe

Who spareth the rodd / hatith his childeT

And then he prayed Prelates / & preistes also

That ye preache to the people / proue it on yourself

And do it in dede / it shall drawe you to good

Yf ye liue as as / [+] ye learne vs / we shall beleue you the better

And then he counsellid reli{..}gion / hir rule to holde

Lest the king & his counsell / your Commons appeyre

And be Stywardes of your stedes / till ye be rulid better

And then he counseiled the king / his commons to loue

It is thi treasure if treason were not / & triacle at thi nede

And then he prayd the Pope / haue pitie on holie churche

And ere he giue any grace / gouerne first him-self

And ye that vse the lawe / lat truthe be your desireLX

More then golde or giftes / if ye will god please

For who-so contrarieth Truthe he tellith in the gospell

That god knoweth him not / nor no saynt in heauen

And ye that seke Saynt Iames / And Seyntes of Rome

Seke Saynt Truthe / for he may saue you all

Qui cum deo patre et filio / that fair him befall

That folowethe my sermon / And thus said Reason

Than ranne Repentance / and rehercid his teme

And GreatLX will to wepe / water with his eyne

Pernelle prowdhart / fell vpon the grounde

And laie long or she looked / & lorde mercie cried

And behight to him / that vs all made

She shulde put of hir smocke / & put vpon an heyre

TShall neuer highe hart me hent / But holde me lowe

And suffre to be missaide / and so did I neuer

But now will I meke me / & mercie beseche

For all this I haue / hated in myn hart

Then Lechorie said alas / & on oure Ladie he cried

TAnd that he shulde the saterdaie / seuen yeris after

Drinke but withT the ducke / and dine but ones

Enuie with heauie hart / asked after Shrifte

And carefullie Mea culpa / he began to shewe

He was as pale as a pellet / in the palsey he semed

And clothed in a Cawrymawrie / I coulde it not discriue

In kyrtill and Courtepie / and a knife by his side

Of a friers frocke / were the forsleuis

And as a leke that had lyne long in the sonne

So looked he with lene chekes / lowring foule

His bodie bolne for wrathe / that he bit his lippis

And wringing he wentT with his fist / to wreke himself he thought

With workes or with wordes / when he se his tyme

Euery worde he spake / was of an edders tung

Of chiding & of chalenging / was his chefe liuelod

With backbiting & busynesseLX / & bearing of fals witnesse

This was all his curtesie / whersoeuer he became

I wold be shreven quod this shrewe / & I for shame durst

I wolde be gladder by god / that Gibbe had mischaunce

Then if I had this weike wonne / a weye of Essex chese

I haue a neighbore nere me / I haue anoyid him ofte

And compleynid on him to lordes / to do him lose his siluer

And made his freindes his foes / through my false tong

His grace & his good happes / greuid me full sore

Betwene man & manT / I make debate ofte

That bothe Life and lymme / is lost through my speche

And when I mete him / in market / that I most hate /

I haile him gentillie / as I his frende wel / we[re]

For he is hardier then I [I] dare do non other

But had I maistrie and might / god knoweth my will

And I at kirk when I comeT / and shulde knele to the roode

And prey for the people / as the preist teacheth

For pilgrymes and for palmers / & for all other

Then I crie on my kneis / þat Christ giue them sorowe

That bare awaie my bolle / & my broke shete /

Awaie from the alter / thenT turne I myn eyis

And beholde how Eleyne / hathe a newe cote

I wishe that it were myne / & all the webbe after

And at mennis losse I laugh / that liketh myn hart

And for their wynnyng I wepe / & waile the tyme

And Iudge them to do euill / there I do much wors

Who-so tellith me herof / I hate him deadlie after

I wishe that euery man / were my knaue

for who-so hathe more then I / that angrith me sore /

And thus I liue louelesse / Like a lither dogg

That all my body bolneth / for bitter of my gall

I might not eat many yeris / as a man ought

For Envie and euill will / is euill to digest

No suger nor swete thing may / asswage my swelling

Nor no diapenidion / driue hit fro my hart

Nor neither shrifte nor shame / but who-so shrape my mawe

Yes ridlie quod Repentance / & counseld him to the best

Sorowe for synnes / saluacion is of soules

I am sorie quod that man / I am but seld other

And that maketh me so lene / for that I maynot / may not me avenge

Amonges Burgeises haue I bene / dwelling at London

And causid Bacbyting be a Brokour / to blame mennis ware

When he solde & not I then was I redie

To lie and to loure on my neighbour / & to lacke his chaffare

I will amende þis if I may / through þe might of god allmightie

Now awaketh Wrathe / with ij / two whight eyen

And sneueling in the nose / And his necke hanging

I am wrath quod he / I was sometime a Frier

And the Coventes Gardeyner / For to graffe ympes

On lymitors and Listers / Lyes there I ymped

Till they bare leaues of lowe speche / lordes to please

And sithen they blossomed abrode / in boure to here shriftes

And now is fallen therof a fruyt / that folke had muche leuer

Shewe their shriftes to them / þatT shriue them to their parsons

And now parsons haue perceyuid / that Friers parte with them

Thise possessours preache / and depraue Friers

And friers fynd them in faute / as folke beare witnesse

That what they preache the people / in many places about

I wrathe walke with them / And lerne them of my bookes

Thus they speake of my spiritualtie / þat either dispise other

Till thei be bothe beggers / And by Spiritualtie liue

Or ellis ride about / all riche

I wrathe rest neuer / but I must folowe

Thise wicked folke / for such is my grace

I haue an Aunnte A Nonne / And an abbesse bothe

She hadT leuer swounne or swelte / then suffre any peyne

I haue be Cooke in hir kechin / & the Covent seruid

Many monethes with them / & with Monkes bothe

I was the Prioresse Potager / and other pouer ladies

AndT Iowtes of Iangling / that dame Ione was a bastarde

And dame Clarice a knightes doughter / but a Cokeold was hir syre

And dame Pernell a preistes file / Prioresse was she neuer

For she had childe in Cheritime / all our chaptire it wist

Of wicked wordes / I wratheT there wortes made

Till thou liest & þou liest / lepid out at ones

And either hitt other / vnder the cheke

Had they had knyues by Christ / either had killed other

Seynt Gregorie was a good Pope / & had a good forewitt

That no prioresse were preist / for that he ordeyned

They had then bene / Infames / the first daie / thei can so euill kepe counseill

Among Monkes I might be / but manie tyme I eschewe

For there be many fell frekes / my feates to espie

And Priour and Subpriour / And oure Pater abbas

And if I telle any talis / thei take them togithers

And do me fast Fridaies / to bread & to water

And am Chalengid in the Chaptirhouse / as I a childe were

And beate on the bare arse / & no breche betwene

Therfor haue I no liking / with them to dwelle

I ete there ill fish / & feble ale drinke

But otherwhile when wyne come / I drinke wyne at even

I haue a flux of a foule mowthe / well fiue daies after

All the wickednesse that I wot / by any of my bretherne

I {knoweth}telleT it in oure Cloister / that all our Couent wot it .

Nowe repent þe quod Repentaunce / & reherce youLG neuer

Counseile that thou knowist / by countinaunce nor bi right

And drinke not ouer delicatelie / nor to depe neither

That thi will because therof / to wrath might turne

Esto Sobrius he saide / and assoiled him after

And bad him will to wepe / his wickednesse to amend

And then cam Couetise / can I not him discriue

So hungerlie and holowe / Syr heruy him loked

He was bitilbrowed / and blaberlippid also

With ij / two bleared eyen / as a blynde hagg

And as a lether purs / lolled his chekes

Sydder then his chinne / they chiverid for age

And as a bondman of his bacon / his beard all bedreueled

With an hood on his head / & a lowsie hat aboue

And in a tawnie taberd / of xij / twelue winter age

All to torne and bawdie / & full of lyce creping

But if that a louce coulde / haue lepid the better

She had notT walkid on that clotheT / so was it thredebare

I haue bene Couetouse quod this Caitif / I knowlege it here

For sometime I seruid / Symme at Stile

And was his prentice plight / his profit to wait

First I learned to lye / A leafe or tweyne

And wickedlie to weye / was my first lesson

To wye And to winchester / I went to feyre

With many mannere marchandise / as my master me hight

Had not the grace of Gyle gone / Among my chaffare

It had be vnsold this seuen yere / so me god helpe

Then drewe I me among drapiers / my donet to learne

To drawe the listT along / the lenger it semed

Among the riche raies / I rendrid a lesson

To broche them with a packenedill / & pliteLX them togithers

And put them in a presse / & pynned them therin

Till x / tean yerdes or xij / twelue / had tolled out thirtene

My wife was a webber / & wollen cloth made

She spake to spynners / to spynne it out

But the pounde that she paid by / weyid a quarterT more

Then myne oune Auncer / who-so weied truth

I bought hir Barlie Malt / she brewid it to selle

Pennyale & Puddingale / she poured togithers

For Laborars & pouerfolke / that lay by it-self

The best ale laie in my boure / or in my chambre

And who-so bummed therof / bought it therafter

A galon for a grote / god wott no lasse

And yet it came in cupmeale / this craft my wife vsed

Rose the regrater / was hir right name

She hath bene an hucsterT / all hir life-time

But I swere now so the ik / that synne I leue

And neuer wickedlie weye / nor wicked chaffare vse

But go to Walsingham / And my wife also

And bidde the Rood of Bromeholme / bring me out of dett

Repentidst thou euer quod Repentance / or restitucion madist

Yes ones was I harborowed / quod he with an hepe of chapmen

I rose when thei were at rest / and rifled their males

That was no restitucion quod Repentance / but a robbers thefte

Thou haddist bene well worthier / to be hangid therfore

Then for all that / that þou haestLG here shewed

I wende Rifling had bene restitucion quod he / I neuer lernid to rede on booke

And infeith / in feith I can no frenche / but of the farthest parte of Northfolke

Vsedist thou euer vsurie quod Repentaunce / in all thi life-tyme

No sothely he saide / Saue in my youthe

I learned among Lumbardes / & Iewes a lesson

To weye pens with a peise / and pare the heuiest

And lene it for loue of the Crosse / to leye a gage & lose it

Whech dedes I did wright / if he his daie broke

I haue mo maneris through Rereages / than through Miseretur & com[odat]C

I haue lent lordes & ladies /T my chaffare

And be their brocour after / and bought it my-self

Eschaunges & Cheuisaunces . with such chaffre I Dele

And lend folke that lose will / a lippe at euery noble

And with Lumbardes letters / I ledd golde to Rome

And toke it by tale here / & told them there lesse

Lentist thou euer lordes / for loue of their maintenaunce

Yea I haue lent lordes / that louid me neuer after

And haue made many a knight / bothe Mercer & Draper

That paide neuer for his prentishode / not a pair of glouis

hast thou pitie on pouer men / that must nedes borowe

As much pitie of pouer men / as pedlers haue of Cattes

That wolde kill them if thei cach them / euin for their skinnes

Art thou manlie among thi neighbors / of thi meat & drinke

I am callid quod he as kinde / as a dogg on his boneT

Among my Neighbors namelie / such a name I haue

Now god lene the neuer quod Repentaunce / but thou repent þe rather

Grace on this grounde / thi goodes well to besett

Nor thine heires after the / haue Ioye of that þou wynnest

Nor thine executours well besett / þe siluer þat þou them leuist

And that was wonne with wrong / with wicked men be dispended

For were I Frier of þat house / there good feithe and charite is

I wolde not cope vs with thi goodes / nor our church amende

Nor haue won penny to my pitaunce / so god my soule helpe

For þe best book in the house / though brent golde were the leauis

Yf I wist verelie / thou were such as thou tellest

Thou art an vnkinde creature / I can þe not assoile

Till þou make restitucion / and reken with them all

And sithen þat reason rolle it / in þe Registre of heauen

That þou hast made echeman good / I maie the not assoile

For all that haue of thi good / haue god my trouthe

Be holden at the high dome / to helpe þe to restore

And who beleuith not this to be true / Loke in the psalter glose

In Miserere mei deus / whether I mene truthe

Shall neuer workman in this worlde / thriue with þat þou wynnest

Cum sancto sanctus eris / construe me þat in englishe

Then waxt that shrewe in wanhope / & wold haue hangid himself

Had not repentaunce the rather / reconfortid him in þis manere

haue mercie in thi mynde / and with thi mouth ask it

For goddes mercie is more / then all his other workes

And all the wickednesse in this worlde / þat man myght work or // thinkeC

ys nomore / no more to þe mercie of god / than in the sea a glede

Therfore haue mercie in thi mynde / & merchandise leue it

For þou hast no good grounde / to get the with a wastell

But if it were with thi tong orelles / or elles with þi ij / two handes

for þe good þat thou hast goten / beganne all with falsehode

And as long as þou liuest þerwith / þou yeldest nought but borrowest

And þou wotnot / wot not to whome / thou shuldest make restitucion

Beare hit to the Bishop / & bidd him of his grace

Bestowe hit himself / as best is for thi soule

For he shall answere for the / at þe high dome

For the and for many mo / þat man shall giue a rekening

What he learned you in lent / beleue youT non other

And what he lent you of the lordes good / to let you from synne

C NoweP beg{o}ynneth Gloton / For to go to Shrifte

And CariethT him to kirkewarde / his cuppe to shewe

But Beton the Brewster / Bad him good morowe

And askid of him / whetherLX he wolde

To holie churche quod he / For to here masse

And then I wilbe / will be shreuin / and synne nomore / no more

I haue good Ale Gossip / quod she / Gloton wilt þou saieLX

Hast þou ought in thi purs / any hoott spices

I haue Peper and Pionies quod heT / & a pounde of garleck

And a farding worthe of Fenell sede / for fasting daies

Than goith Gloton in / & great othes after

Cesse the Sowtresse / Sat on the Benche

Wat the Warner / & his wife bothe

Tymme the tynker / & tweyne of his prenticis

Hicke the hakeneyman / and Hugh the Nedler

Clarice of Cockeslane / & þe clerke of the church

Davie the dyker / and a doson other

Syr piers of Prydye / & pernell of Flaunders

A Ribiboure / a Ratoner / a Raker of Cheape

A Rooper / a Readingking / & Rose the dishers

Godfrey of Garlickhithe / & Griffin the welchman

And vpholsters an heape / erlie by the morowe

Gaf Gloton with glad chere / good ale for hansell

Clement the Cobler / cast of his cloke

And at the newfeire / he offrid hit to sell

Hicke the hakeneyman / hurld his hood after

And bad bet the bochier / be of his side

There were chapmen chosen / this chaffare to priseLX

Who-so haueLG the hood / shulde haue a-mendes of the Cloke

Two rise vp in hast / & rowned togithers

And preised these penyworthes / a-part by them-selfT

They coulde not by their conscience / accorde in truthe

Till Robyn the Roper / arose by the southe

And named him for an vnpere / þat no debate were

Hicke the hostlier / had the cloke

In couenant that Clement / shulde the cup fill

And haue Hickes hood / & holde him seruid

And who-so repent first / shuld arise after

And grete syr Gloton / with a galon of Ale /

There was laughing & Lowring / & Lat go the cup

And they sate so till euinsong / & sung sumwhile

Till glutton had glubbed / a galon & a gill

His guttes began to romble / as ij / two gredie Sowes

He pissed a pottell / in a pater noster while

And blewe his Rounde Rewet / at his ridgebones ende

That all that herd þat horne / held ther noses after

And wisshed it had be waxed / with a wispe of fyrres

He might neither steppe nor stond / till he had a staff

And then he began to go / Like a glewmannes bich

Sometime aside / & sometime Arere

As who-so leieth Lynes / for to cache foules

And when he drew to þe dore / then dymmed his eyen

He stumbled vpon the threshold / and fell to the erth

Clement the Cobler / caught him by the middill

For to lift him vp / and leid him on his kneis

But Gloton was a great chorle / & a grimme in þe lifting

And kouȝedT vp a cawdell / in Clementes Lapp

So hungrie a hounde is not in hertforth shire

Dorst lappe of tho leuinges / so vnlouelie they smelt

With all þe wo of this world / his wife & his wench

Bare him home to his bed / & brought him therin

And after this excesse / he had an Accidie

That he slept Saterdaie & Sondaie / till þe sonne went to rest

Then wakid he of his winking / & wypid his eyen

The fyrst word that he spake / was where is the boll

His wife began to chide him then / how wickedlie he liuid

And Repentaunce right so / rebukid him that time

As þou with wordes & workes / hast wrought euill in þi Lyf

Shriue the & be ashamed therof / & shew it with þi mouth

I Gloton said the grome / giltie me I yeld

That I haue trespassed with my tong / I cannot telle howoft / how oft

Sworne goddes soule / & so god help meT at holi dome

There no nede was / nyne hundreth tymes

And ouersetLX me at my Supper / & sometime at nones

That I gloton girt it vp / ere I had gone a myle

And spilt that might haue bene sparid / and spendid on some / hungrieC

Ouer delicatlie on fasting daies / dronke & eate bothe

And sate sometime so long / þat I slept & ete all at ones

For loue of tales / in Tauernes / to drinke þe more I dyned

And hied to the meat or noone / vpon fasting daies

This shewing shrifte quod Repentaunce / shalbe / shall be merit to the

And then gan Gloton wepeLX / & make great dole

For his lither lyfe / that he had ledd

And avowed to fast / for hunger or for thurst

Shall neuer Fish on fridaie / digest in my wombe

Till abstinence myn Aunte / haue geuen me leue

And yet haue I hated hir / all my life-time

Then cam Sleuth / all bislaberid with ij / two slymie eyis

I must sitt ye people quod he / or ellis shulde I nappe

I maie not stond nor stowpe / nor without a stole knele

Were I brought a-bed / But if my taile end it caused

Sholde no Ringing do me rise / till I lust to dine

He began Benedicite with a bolke / & his brest knocked

And raskeled & rored / Ant rutt at the last

What awakeLX quod Repentaunce / And hie the to shrift

Yf I shulde die by this daie / me lust not to loke

I cannot perfitelie my Pater noster / as the preist it singeth

But I can rymes of Robynhoode / & Randolf Erle of Chestre

But neither of our lorde / nor Ladie / the least þat euer was made

I haue made avowes fourtie / & forgoton them on the morowe

I performed neuer penaunce / as the preist me hight

Nor right sorie for my synnes / yet was I neuer

And if I bidd any beades / but if it be in wrathe

That I telle with my tong / is ij / two myle fro my hart

I am occupied euery daie / holidaieP and other

With ydell tales at the ale / & otherwhiles in the Church

Goddes peyne and his passion / full seld think I onT

I {neuer} visited neuer Feble men / nor fetterid folke in prison

I hadT leuer here an harlotrie / or a somergame of Sowters

Or leasinges to laugh at / & belie my neyghbors

Than all that euer Marc made / Mathue Iohan or Luke

And vigils and fastingdaies / all these let I passe

And ly in bed in Lent / & my leman in myn Armes

Till matins and Masse be done / & then go to the friers

Come I to Ite missa est / I hold me well content

I am not shreuen some time / but if sikenesse it make

Not twies in ij / two yere / & then vpon gesse I shriue me

I haue bene {b} preist and parson / more then thirtie winter

Yet can I neither Solf nor Sing / nor Seyntes life rede

But I can fynde an hare in a feilde or furlong

Better then in Beatus vir / or in Beati omnes /

Construe won clause well / And teache it to my parisshens

I can holde Louedaies / And here a Reves Rekennyng

But in Canon or in decretals / I cannot rede a lyne

If I biggLG and borowe ought / But if [it] be tailled

I forgett it by & by / & if men me it aske

Six tymes or seven / I forswereLX it with othes

Thus do I angre trew men / tean hundred tymes

And my seruauntes Sometime / their Salarie is behinde

Ruthe it is to here the Rekennyng / when we rede acomptes

So with wicked will and wrathe / my workemen I paie

Yf anyman / any man dothe me a benefite / or helpeth me at nede

I am vnkinde against his curtesie / & cannot vnderstond it

For I haue & haue had / somedele haukes maners

I am lured with loue / But alwaie for AvauntageT

The kyndnes that myne even cristen / hath shewid me of late

Syxtie tymes I Slouth / haue forgote it syns

In speche & in sparing of speche / yspilt many a time

Bothe flesh & Fish / and manie other victuales

Bothe bread and ale / Butter Milke and Chese

ForsleuidLX in my seruice / till it might serue noman / no man

I ranne about in youthe / & gaf me not to learne

And euer sithe haue be begger / for my foule slouth

Repentidist thou not quod Repentance / & euen with þat he swowned

Till Vigilate the veille / fet water at his eyen

And flatt it on his face / & fast on him cried

And seid ware the of wanhope / he wolde þe betraye

I am sorie for my synnes / Seye to thi-self

And beat thi-self on the breast / & byd god of grace

for here is no gilt so great / but his goodnes is more

Then sate sleuthe vp / And remembrid him-selfLX

And made avowe tofore god / for his foule Slouth

Shall no Sondaie be this seuen yere / but sikenes it let

That I shalnot / shall not ere it be daie / get me to þe church

And heare Matyns & Masse / as I were a Monke

Shall non ale after meate / Hold me from thence

Till I haue herd euinsong / I promise to the Rood

And yet will I yeld againe / if I somuch / so much haue

All that I wickedlie wanne / sithens I had witt

And though my lifelode lacke / let will I not

But eche man shall haue his / ere I hens wende

And with the rest and remenaunt / by the Rood of Chestre

I shall seke truthe erst / ere I se Rome

Robert the robber / on Reddite lookid

And for that there was not wherof / he wept right sore

But yet the synfull shrewe / Seid to himself

Christ that on Caluarie / vpon the Crosse dyedst

ToT dismas my brother / {.o}besought theLG of grace

And haddist mercie on that man / fo / fo[r] Memento sake

So rewe on this Robber / that Reddere haue not

Nor neuer thinke to haue / by any meane I {t}knoweT

For thy great mercie yet / mitigacon I beseche

And damme me not at domesdaie / for þat I haue done ill

What befell on this felon / I cannot trulie shewe

Well I wot he wept fast / water with his eyen

And knowlegid his synne / to Christ yet eftsones

That penitencia his pyk he shulde polish newe

And lepe with him ouer lond / all his life-tyme

For he had lyne by Latro Luciferis Aunte

And then had Repentaunce ruthe / & willid them all to knele

For I shall pray for all synfull / to the Saviour of grace

T'amende vs of oure mysdedis / & shewe mercie to vs all

Now god quod he that of þi goodnes / ganne the worlde make

And of nought madest ought / & man most like þi-self

And sithen suffredst him toT synne / a siknesse to vs all

And all for the best as I beleue / what-euer the book tellith

For that synne thi son / was sent into the erthe

And became man of a maid / mankinde to saue

And madist thi-self with þi son / & vs synfull like

And sithens with thi self sonne / in oure sute diedst

On Goodfridaie for manissake / manis sakeP / at full tyme of the daie

There thi-self nor thi sonne / no sorow in death felid

But in o{r}ure sect was the sorowe / And thy sonne it ladd

The Sonne for sorowe therof / lost light for a tyme

About middaie when most light is / & meletime of Sayntes

Thou feddest with þi fresh blood / our forefathers in darknesse

And through the light þat lept out of the Lucifer {.}was blent

And blewe all thi blessed / into the blisse of Paradise

The thirde daie after / thou wenst in oure sute

A synfull Marie the se / ere Saint Marie thi dame

And all to solace the synfull / thou woldest it so to be

And all that Marc made / Mathue Luke or IohanT /

Of thi doutie dedes / were done in oure armes

And by somuch / so much me think / the sikerer we maie

Praie and beseche / if it be thi will

That art oure Father and oure brother / be mercifull to vs

And haue ruthe on thise Ribawdes þat repent them here sore

That euer thei offendid the in this worlde / in word thought or dede

Than hent hope an horne / of deus tu conuersus &c

And blewe it with Beati quorum remisse sunt iniquitates

That all Seyntes in heuen song atones / at ones

A thowsande of men then throng /T togethers

Crying vpwarde to Christ / and to his clene mother

To haue grace to go with them / truthe to seke

But there was no wight so wise / the waie thether knewe

But blusterid furthe as beastes / ouer bankes & hilles

Till long was and late / that they met a man

Apparailed as a {Pilgr} PaynymP in pilgrymes wise

He bare a bourden bounde / with a brode list

In a withwyndes wise / bound about

A bolle and a bagg / he bare by his side

An hundred of Ampulles / on his head sett

Sygnes of Synay / & Shellis of Galice

And many a crosse on his cloke / & Keyis of Rome

And the Vernycle before / for men shulde knowe

And se by his signes / whom he had sought

This folke freyned him first / fro whens he came

From Synay he said / & from oure lordes Sepulchre /

In Bethleme and in Ba{l}bylone / I haue bene in bothe

In Armenye & Alisaundre / & in many other places

You be my Signes se / that be on my hatt

That I haue walkid wide / & / [in] wete and in drie

And sought good Seyntes / for my soules helthe

Knowest aught a Corsseynt / þat men call truthe

Couldest thou ought tell us the waie / where that man dwellith

Naie so me god helpe / said that pilgrime againe

I neuer se palmer / with picke nor with Scrippe /

Aske after him erst / till nowe in this place

Peter quod a plowman / & put furth his head

I knowe him aswell / as well / as a clerk doth his bookes

Conscience and Kyndwitt / taught me to his place

And did me sure themT sikerlie / to serue him for euer

Bothe to sowe and sett / the while I might Labour

I haue bene his folower / all this fifftie winter

Bothe sowen his sede / and seruid his beastes

Within and without / waited his profite

I dike and I delue / and to that Truthe grantithT

Sometime I sowe / and sometime I threshe

In tailours crafte & Tinkers crafte / what truthe can deuise

I weaue and I wynde / and do what Truthe willith

For though I saie it my-self / I serue him to paie

Ich haue myne Hire well / & other-whiles more

He is the best paier / that pouer men maye knowe

He witholdT frome no seruauntT his hyre / that he hath not at night

He is as lowlie as a lambe / & louely of Speche

And if ye will to wite / where that he dwellith

I shall shew you plainlie / þe wey to his place

Yea lefe piers quod thise pilgrymes / & proferid him hire

For to go with them / to Truthes dwelling place

Naie by my soules helth quod piers / & began to swere

I willnot / will not take a ferthing / for Saynt Thomas shryne

Truthe wolde loue me the lesse / a long tyme þerafter

But if ye will to wend well / þis is the waie thether

Ye must go through Mekenesse / Both men and wyues

Till ye come into Conscience / þat Christ wite the sothe

That ye loue our lorde god / best of all thing

And then your neighbourure / neighbo[ur]eP next / in nowise / no wise appeire

Otherwise then thou woldest / that he didT to the

And so bowe furth by a brook / be buxome of speche

Till ye fynde a foorde / your Fathers honoure

Wade in that water / & washe yeLG well there

And ye shall leape the lighter / all your life after

And so shalt thou se Swere not / but if it be for nede

And namelie in ydilnesse / the name of god allmightie

Then shalt þou come by a crofte / but come þou not therin

That Croft hight Covet not / mennis catell nor their wives

Nor non of their seruauntes / that noye them might

Loke ye breake no bowes there / but if hit be your oune

Two stockes there stande / but stint ye not there

They hight Steale not / nor slea not / go furth by bothe

And leaue them on thi left hand / & loke not therafter

And holde well þi Holidaie / heigh till even

Then shalt þou blench at a BredgeLX / Bere no fals witnesse

he is frythid with Floryns / and other foes many

Loke þou plucke no plant there / for perill of þi soule

Then shall ye se Say sothe / so it be to do

In no case ellis not / for nomannes / no mannes bidding

Than shalt þou come to a Court / as clere as the Sonne

The mote is of mercie / the manere about

And all the walles be of witt / to hold will out

And kernelid with Christendome / mankyde to saue

Buttrased with beleue so / or þou beist not saved

And all the houses / be hillid / hallis & Chambers

With no lead but loue / & lowe spech as bretherne

The Bridge is of bidd well / the better may þou spede

Euery piller is of Penance / {of} & of Holie preyersT

Of almesededes ar the hokes / that the gates hang on

Grace hight the Portar / a good man forsothe

His man hight Amend you / for many men him knoweth

Tell him this Token / that Truthe wite the sothe

I performed the penaunce / that the preist me inioyned

And am full sorie for my synnes / & so shall I euer

When I think theron / though I were a pope

Bid amend you meke him / till his Maister ones

To wayue vp the wickett / that the woman shett

When Adam & Eue / ete Appuls vnrostid

For he hath the kye of the Clicket / though the king slepe

And if grace graunt to the / to go in this wise

Thou shalt se in þi-self / Truthe in þi hart

In a cheyne of charitie / as thou a childe were

To suffre him & saie nought / Agayne þi syres will

He hath Envie to him / that in thine hart sitteth

And provokith pride / to preise thi-self

The boldnesse of thi good dedis / maketh the blynde then

And then art thouT driven out as dew / & the dore closed

Keyid & clicketted / to kepe the without

Happely an hundred wynter / ere þou might entre

Thus mightest þou Lose his loue / to set much by þi-self

And neuer perfortune after entre / but grace þou haue

But there are seven sisters / þat serue Truthe euer

And are porters of the posternes / þat to þe place longeth

The one hight Abstinence / & humilite another

Charitie and Chastitie / be hir chefe maidens

Pacience & Peace / much people they helpe

Largenesse the Ladie / she lettith in full many

She hath holpen a thowsand /T out of the deuils pinfold

And who is Sib to thise vii / seuen / so me god helpe

He is wonderlie welcome / and gentillie receyuid

And onlesse ye be Sibbe / to soomme / some of thise seuen

It is full hard quod piers / for any of yeLG all

To get in at any gate / but grace be the more

Now by Christ quod a Cutpurs / I haue no kyn there

Nor I quod an Apewarde / by aught that I can knowe

Wite god quod a Wafrer / wist I this forsothe

Shold I neuer farther a foot / for no Friers preching

Yes quod piers the Plowman / & provokid him all to good

Mercie is a maid there / & hath might ouer them all

And she is Sibbe / to all synfull / & hir son also

And through the help of them ij / two / hope þou non other

Thou might get grace there / incase / in case þou go by-time

By saynt Poule quod a pardoner / I fere I am not knowne there

I will go fech my box / with my brevettes / & a bull with bishops lettr[es]C

By Christ quod a Comon woman / thi companie will I folowe

Thou shalt saie I am thi suster / I wotnot / wot not where they become