Part 13
"The thef that hadde grace of God On Good-friday, as thow spekest, Was for he yald hym creaunt to Crist on the cros, 7810 And knewliched hym gilty, And grace asked of God, That to graunten it is redy To hem that buxomliche biddeth it, And ben in wille to amenden. Ac though that theef hadde hevene, He hadde noon heigh blisse, As seint Johan and othere seintes That deserved hadde bettre.
"Right as som man yeve me mete, 7820 And a-mydde the floor sette me, And hadde mete moore than y-nough, Ac noght so muche worshipe As tho that seten at the syde table, Or with the sovereynes of the halle; But sete as a beggere bord-lees By myself on the grounde. So it fareth by that felon {240} That a Good-friday was saved. He sit neither with seint Johan, 7830 Symond ne Jude, Ne with maydenes ne with martires, Confessours ne wydewes; But by hymself as a soleyn, And served on erthe. For he that is ones a thef Is evere moore in daunger, And, as lawe liketh, To lyve or to deye. _De peccato propitiato, noli esse sine metu._ = And for to serven a seint 7842 And swich a thef togideres, It were neither reson ne right To rewarde hem bothe y-liche.
"And right as Trojanus the trewe knyght Dwelte noght depe in helle, That oure Lord ne hadde hym lightly out, So leve I the thef be in hevene. For he is in the loweste of hevene, 7850 If oure bileve be trewe; And wel loselly he lolleth there, By the lawe of holy chirche. _Qui reddit unicuique juxta opera sua, etc._ =
"And why that oon theef on the cros Creaunt hym yald Rather than that oother theef, Though thow woldest appose, Alle the clerkes under Crist 7860 Ne kouthe the skile assoille. _Quare placuit, quia voluit._ {241}
"And so I seye by thee That sekest after the whyes, And a-resonedest Reson A rebukynge as it were; And of the floures in the fryth, And of hire faire hewes, Wherof thei cacche hir colours So clere and so brighte; 7870 And willest of briddes and of beestes, And of hir bredyng, to knowe, Why some be a-lough and some a-loft, Thi likyng it were; And of the stones and of the sterres Thow studiest, as I leve; How evere beest outher brid Hath so breme wittes.
"Clergie ne kynde wit Ne knew nevere the cause; 7880 Ac kynde knoweth the cause hymself, And no creature ellis. He is the pies patron, And putteth it in hir ere There the thorn is thikkest To buylden and brede. And kynde kenned the pecok To cauken in swich a kynde; And kenned Adam To knowe his pryvé membres, 7890 And taughte hym and Eve To helien hem with leves.
"Lewed men many tymes Maistres thei apposen, Why Adam ne hiled noght first His mouth that eet the appul, {242} Rather than his likame a-logh; Lewed asken thus clerkes.
"Kynde knoweth whi he dide so, Ac no clerk ellis, 7900 Ac of briddes and of beestes Men by olde tyme Ensamples token and termes, As telleth the poetes; And that the faireste fowel Foulest engendreth, And feblest fowel of flight is That fleeth or swymmeth; And that the pecok and the pehen Proude riche men bitokneth; 7910 For the pecok, and men pursue hym, May noght flee heighe, For the trailynge of his tail Overtaken is he soone, And his flessh is foul flessh, And his feet bothe, And un-lovelich of ledene, And looth for to here.
"Right so the riche, If he his richesse kepe, 7920 And deleth it noght til his deeth-day, The tail of alle sorwe Right so as the pennes of the pecok Peyneth hym in his flight. So is possession peyne Of pens and of nobles, To alle hem that it holdeth, Til hir tail be plukked.
"And though the riche repente thanne And bi-rewe the tyme 7930 {243} That evere he gadered so grete, And gaf therof so litel; Though he crye to Crist thanne With kene wil, I leve, His ledene be in oure Lordes ere Like a pies chiteryng. And whan his caroyne shal come In cave to be buryed, I leve it flawme ful foule The fold al aboute, 7940 And alle the othere ther it lith Envenymeth thorugh his attre.
"By the po feet is understande, As I have lerned in Avynet, Executours false frendes That fulfille noght his wille That was writen and thei witnesse To werche right as it wolde. Thus the poete preveth that the pecok For hise fetheres is reverenced, 7950 Right so is the riche By reson of hise goodes.
"The larke, that is a lasse fowel, Is moore lovelich of ledene, And wel a wey of wynge Swifter than the pecok, And of flessh by fele fold Fatter and swetter; To lowe libbynge men The larke is resembled. 7960
"Aristotle the grete clerk Swiche tales he telleth. Thus he likneth in his logik The leeste fowel oute, {244} And wheither he be saaf or noght saaf The sothe woot no clergie, Ne of Sortes ne of Salomon No scripture kan telle. Ac God is so good, I hope, That siththe he gaf hem wittes 7970 To wissen us weyes therwith That wissen us to be saved, And the bettre for hir bokes To bidden we ben holden, That God for his grace Gyve hir soules reste. For lettred men were lewed men yet, Ne were loore of hir bokes."
"Alle thise clerkes," quod I tho, "That in Crist leven, 7980 Seyen in hir sermons That neither Sarsens ne Jewes Ne no creature of Cristes liknesse Withouten cristendom worth saved."
"_Contra_," quod Ymaginatif thoo, And comsed for to loure; And seide "_Salvabitur Vix justus in die judicii. Ergo salvabitur_," quod he, And seide na-moore Latyn. 7990
"Trojanus was a trewe knyght, And took nevere Cristendom, And he is saaf, so seith the book, And his soule in hevene. For ther is fullynge of font, And fullynge in blood shedyng, And thorugh fir is fullyng, And that is ferme bileve. {245} _Advenit ignis divinus non comburens, sed illuminans, etc._ 8000
"Ac Truthe that trespased nevere, Ne traversed ayeins his lawe, But lyveth as his lawe techeth, And leveth ther be no bettre; And if ther were, he wolde amende, And in swich wille deieth, Ne wolde nevere trewe god, But truthe were allowed, And wheither it be worth or noght worth, The bileve is gret of truthe, 8010 And an hope hangynge therinne To have a mede for his truthe. For _Deus dicitur quasi dans vitam æternam suis, hoc est fidelibus. Et alibi: Si ambulavero in medio umbræ mortis._
"The glose graunteth upon that vers A greet mede to Truthe, And wit and wisdom," quod that wye, "Was som tyme tresor 8020 To kepe with a commune, No catel was holde bettre, And muche murthe and manhod;" And right with that he vanysshed. 8024
* * * * *
{246}
_Passus Decimus Tertius, etc._
And I awaked therwith 8025 Wit-lees ner-hande, And as a freke that fre were Forth gan I walke In manere of a mendinaunt Many a yer after, 8030 And of this metyng many tyme Muche thought I hadde.
First how Fortune me failed At my mooste nede; And how that Elde manaced me, Myghte we evere mete; And how that freres folwede Folk that was riche, And folk that was povere At litel pris thei sette; 8040 And no corps in hir kirk-yerde Nor in his kirk was buryed, But quik he biquethe aught To quyte with hir dettes; And how this Coveitise over-com Clerkes and preestes; And how that lewed men ben lad, But oure Lord hem helpe, {247} Thorugh un-konnynge curatours, To incurable peynes. 8050
And how that Ymaginatif In dremels me tolde Of Kynde and of his konnynge, And how curteis he is to bestes, And how lovynge he is to briddes On londe and on watre. Leneth he no lif Lasse ne moore. The creatures that crepen Of kynde ben engendred. 8060 And sithen how Ymaginatif seide, _Vix salvabitur_; And whan he hadde seid so, How sodeynliche he passed.
I lay doun longe in this thoght, And at the laste I slepte. And as Crist wolde, ther com Conscience To conforte me that tyme, And bad me come to his court, With Clergie sholde I dyne; 8070 And for Conscience of Clergie spak, I com wel the rather. And there I seigh a maister, What man he was I nyste, That lowe louted And loveliche to Scripture.
Conscience knew hym wel, And welcomed hym faire. Thei wesshen and wipeden, And wenten to the dyner. 8080 And Pacience in the paleis stood In pilgrymes clothes, {248} And preyde mete _par charité_ For a povere heremyte.
Conscience called hym in, And curteisliche seide, "Welcome! wye; go and wasshe; Thow shalt sitte soone."
This maister was maad sitte, As for the mooste worthi. 8090 And thanne Clergie and Conscience And Pacience cam after.
Pacience and I Were put to be macches, And seten bi oureselve At the side borde.
Conscience called after mete; And thanne cam Scripture, And served hem thus soone Of sondry metes manye, 8100 Of Austyn, of Ambrose, And of the foure Euvangelistes, _Edentis et bibentis quæ apud eos sunt._ =
Ac this maister nor his man No maner flesshe eten; Ac thei eten mete of moore cost, Mortrews and potages Of that men mys-wonne Thei made hem wel at ese. 8110 Ac hir sauce was over sour, And unsavourly grounde In a morter _post mortem_ Of many a bitter peyne, But if thei synge for tho soules, And wepe salte teris. {249} _Vos qui peccata hominum comeditis, nisi pro eis lacrimas et orationes effunderitis, ea quæ in deliciis comeditis, in tormentis 8120 evometis._
Conscience ful curteisly tho Comaunded Scripture Bifore Pacience breed to brynge And me that was his macche. He sette a sour loof to-forn us, And seide, "_agite pænitentiam_." "As longe," quod I, "as I lyve, And lycame may dure." "Here is propre service," quod Pacience, 8130 "Ther fareth no prince bettre,"
And thanne he broughte us forth a mees of oother mete, Of _Miserere mei, Deus_, And he broughte us of _Beati quorum_, Of _Beatus-virres_ makyng. _Et quorum tecta sunt peccata_ in a disshe, Of derne shrifte _Dixi et confitebor tibi_. "Bryng Pacience som pitaunce," Pryveliche quod Conscience.
And thanne hadde Pacience a pitaunce. 8140 _Pro hac orabit ad te omnis sanctus in tempore oportuno._ And Conscience conforted us, And carped us murye tales. _Cor contritum et humiliatum Deus non despicies._ = {250}
Pacience was proud Of that propre service, And made hym murthe with his mete; Ac I mornede evere, 8150 For this doctour on the heighe dees Drank wyn so faste. _Væ vobis qui potentes estis ad bibendum vinum!_ = He eet manye sondry metes, Mortrews and puddynges, Wombe-cloutes and wilde brawen, And egges y-fryed with grece.
Thanne seide I to myself so Pacience it herde, 8160 "It is noght foure dayes that this freke Bifore the deen of Poules Preched of penaunces That Poul the apostle suffrede, _In fame et frigore_ And flappes of scourges." _Ter cæsus sum, et a Judeis quinquies quadragenas, etc._
Ac o word thei over-huppen At ech a tyme that thei preche, 8170 That Poul in his Pistle To al the peple tolde: _Periculum est in falsis fratribus._
Holi writ bit men be war, I wol noght write it here In Englisshe, on aventure It sholde be reherced to ofte, And greve therwith goode men, Ac gramariens shul redde. _Unusquisque a fratre se custodiat, 8180 {251} quia, ut dicitur, periculum est in falsis fratribus._
Ac I wiste nevere freke that as a frere yede Bifore men on Englisshe Taken it for his teme, And telle it withouten glosyng. They prechen that penaunce is Profitable to the soule, And what meschief and _male ese_ Crist for man tholede. 8190
"Ac this Goddes gloton," quod I, "With hise grete chekes, Hath no pité on us povere, He perfourneth yvele; That he precheth he preveth noght," To Pacience I tolde, And wisshed ful witterly, With wille ful egre, That disshes and doublers Bifore this ilke doctour 8200 Were molten leed in his mawe, And Mahoun amyddes. "I shal jangle to this jurdan With his juste wombe, To telle me what penaunce is, Of which he preched rather."
Pacience perceyved what I thoughte, And wynked on me to be stille, And seide, "Thow shalt see thus soone, Whan he may na-moore, 8210 He shal have a penaunce in his paunche, {252} And puffe at ech a worde; And thanne shullen his guttes gothele, And he shal galpen after. For now he hath dronken so depe, He wole devyne soone, And preven it by hir Pocalips And passion of seint Avereys, That neither bacon ne braun, Blancmanger ne mortrews, 8220 Is neither fissh nor flesshe, But fode for a penaunt And thanne shal he testifie of the Trinité, And take his felawe to witnesse, What he fond in a frayel, After a freres lyvyng; And but he first lyve be lesyng, Leve me nevere after. And thanne is tyme to take, And to appose this doctour 8230 Of Do-wel and Do-bet, And if Do-wel be any penaunce."
And I sat stille, as Pacience seide, And thus soone this doctour, As rody as a rose, Rubbede hise chekes, Coughed and carped; And Conscience hym herde, And tolde hym of a Trinité, And toward us he loked. 8240
"What is Do-wel, sire doctour?" quod I, "Is it any penaunce?"
"Do-wel," quod this doctour, And took the cuppe and drank, "Is do noon yvel to thyn even-cristen {253} Nought by thi power."
"By this day! sire doctour," quod I, "Thanne be ye noght in Do-wel; For ye han harmed us two, In that ye eten the puddyng, 8250 Mortrews and oother mete, And we no morsel hadde. And if ye fare so in youre fermerye, Ferly me thynketh, But cheeste be ther charité sholde be. And yonge children dorste pleyne, I wolde permute my penaunce with youre, For I am in point to Do-wel."
Thanne Conscience curteisly A contenaunce made, 8260 And preynte upon Pacience To preie me to be stille; And seide hymself, "Sire doctour, And it be youre wille, What is Do-wel and Do-bet, Ye dyvynours knoweth."
"Do-wel," quod this doctour, "Do as clerkes techeth; And Do-bet is he that techeth, And travailleth to teche othere; 8270 And Do-best doth hymself so, As he seith and precheth." _Qui facit et docuerit, magnus vocabitur in regno coelorum._
"Now thow, Clergie," quod Conscience, "Carpest what is Do-wel. I have sevene sones," he seide, "Serven in a castel, {254} Ther the lord of lif wonyeth, To leren what is Do-wel; 8280 Til I se tho sevene And myself acorde, I am un-hardy," quod he, "To any wight to preven it. For oon Piers the Plowman Hath impugned us alle, And set alle sciences at a sope, Save love one; And no text ne taketh To mayntene his cause, 8290 But _Dilige Deum_, And _Domine quis habitabit_. And seith that Do-wel and Do-bet Arn two infinités, Whiche infinités, with a feith! Fynden out Do-best, Which shal save mannes soule; Thus seith Piers the Plowman."
"I kan noght heron," quod Conscience, "Ac I knowe wel Piers; 8300 He wol noght ayein holy writ speken, I dar wel undertake. Thanne passe we over til Piers come, And preve this in dede. Pacience hath be in many place, And peraunter mouthed That no clerk ne kan, As Crist bereth witnesse: _Patientes vincunt, etc._"
"Ac youre preiere," quod Pacience tho, 8310 "So no man displese hym. _Disce_," quo he, "_Doce_, {255} _Dilige inimicos_. _Disce_, and Do-wel; _Doce_, and Do-bet; _Dilige_, and Do-best; Thus taughte me ones A lemman that I lovede, Love was hir name:
"With wordes and with werkes," quod she, 8320 "And wil of thyn herte, Thow love leelly thi soule Al thi lif tyme, And so thow lere the to lovye, For oure Lordes love of hevene, Thyn enemy in alle wise Evene forth with thiselve. Cast coles on his heed Of alle kynde speche, Bothe with werkes and with wordes 8330 Fonde his love to wynne; And leye on him thus with love, Til he laughe on the. And but he bowe for this betyng, Blynd mote he worthe.
"Ac for to fare thus with thi frend, Folie it were. For he that loveth thee leelly, Litel of thyne coveiteth. Kynde love coveiteth noght 8340 No catel but speche. With halfe a laumpe lyne, In Latyn, _Ex vi transitionis_, I bere therinne aboute Faste y-bounde Do-wel, In a signe of the Saterday {256} That sette first the kalender, And al the wit of the Wodnesday Of the nexte wike after, The myddel of the moone, 8350 As the nyght of bothe, And herwith am I welcome Ther I have it with me,
"Undo it, lat this doctour deme If Do-wel be therinne. For, by hym that me made! Myghte nevere poverte Misese ne meschief, Ne no man with his tonge, Coold ne care, 8360 Ne compaignye of theves, Ne neither hete ne hayl, Ne noon helle pouke, Ne fuyr ne flood, Ne feere of thyn enemy, Tene thee any tyme, And thow take it with the. _Caritas nihil timet, etc._"
"It is but a dido," quod this doctour, "A disours tale; 8370 Al the wit of this world, And wight mennes strengthe, Kan noght conformen a pees Bitwene and hise enemys, Ne bitwene two cristene kynges Kan no wight pees make Profitable to either peple;" And putte the table fro hym, And took Clergie and Conscience To conseil, as it were, 8380 {257} That Pacience thow most passe, For pilgrymes konne wel lye.
Ac Conscience carped loude, And curteisliche seide, "Frendes, fareth wel;" And faire spak to Clergie, "For I wol go with this gome, If God wol yeve me grace, And be pilgrym with Pacience, Til I have preved moore." 8390
"What!" quod Clergie to Conscience, "Ar ye coveitous nouthe After yeres-geves, or giftes, Or yernen to rede redels? I shal brynge yow a Bible, A book of the olde lawe, And lere yow, if yow like, The leeste point to knowe, That Pacience the pilgrym Parfitly knew nevere." 8400
"Nay, by Crist!" quod Conscience To Clergie, "God thee for-yelde; For al that Pacience me profreth Proud am I litel. Ac the wil of the wye, And the wil of folk here, Hath meved my mood To moorne for my synnes. The goode wil of a wight Was nevere bought to the fulle. 8410 For ther nys no tresour, for sothe, To a trewe wille.
"Hadde noght Maudeleyne moore For a box of salve, {258} Than Zacheus for he seide _Dimidium bonorum meorum do pauperibus?_ = And the poore widewe For a peire of mytes, Than alle tho that offrede 8420 Into _gazophilacium_?"
Thus curteisliche Conscience Congeyed first the frere, And sithen softeliche he seide In Clergies ere, "Me were levere, by oure Lord! And I lyve sholde, Have pacience perfitliche, Than half thi pak of bokes."
Clergie of Conscience 8430 No congie wolde take, But seide ful sobreliche, "Thow shalt se the tyme Whan thow art wery of-walked, Wille me to counseille."
"That is sooth," quod Conscience, "So me God helpe! If Pacience be oure partyng felawe, And pryvé with us bothe, Ther nys wo in this world 8440 That we ne sholde amende, And conformen kynges to pees, And alle kynnes londes; Sarsens and Surré, And so forth alle the Jewes, Turne into the trewe feith, And intil oon bileve."
"That is sooth," quod Clergie, {259} "I se what thow menest; I shal dwelle as I do, 8450 My devoir to shewe, And confermen fauntekyns, And oother folk y-lered, Til Pacience have preved thee, And parfit thee maked."
Conscience tho with Pacience passed, Pilgrymes as it were. Thanne hadde Pacience, as pilgrymes han, In his poke vitailles, Sobretee and symple speche, 8460 And soothfast bileve, To conforte hym and Conscience, If thei come in place There un-kyndenesse and coveitise is, Hungry contrees bothe.
And as the wente by the weye, Of Do-wel thei carped; Thei mette with a mynstral, As me tho thoughte. Pacience apposed hym first. 8470 And preyde he sholde hem telle To Conscience what craft he kouthe, And to what contree he wolde.
"I am a mynstrall," quod that man, "My name is _Activa-vita_; Al ydelnesse ich hatie, For of actif is my name; A wafrer, wol ye wite, And serve manye lordes, And fewe robes I fonge, 8480 Or furrede gownes. Couthe I lye to do men laughe, {260} Thanne lacchen I sholde Outher mantel or moneie Amonges lordes or mynstrals. Ac for I kan neither taboure ne trompe, Ne telle no gestes, Farten ne fithelen At festes, ne harpen, Jape ne jogele, 8490 Ne gentilliche pipe, Ne neither saille ne saute, Ne synge with the gyterne, I have no goode giftes Of thise grete lordes. For no breed that I brynge forth, Save a benyson on the Sonday Whan the preest preieth the peple Hir pater-noster to bidde For Piers the Plowman, 8500 And that hym profit waiten; And that am I actif, That ydelnesse hatie; For alle trewe travaillours And tiliers of the erthe, Fro Mighelmesse to Mighelmesse I fynde hem with my wafres.
"Beggeris and bidderis Of my breed craven, Faitours and freres, 8510 And folk with brode crounes. I fynde payn for the pope, And provendre for his palfrey; And I hadde nevere of hym, Have God my trouthe! Neither provendre ne personage {261} Yet of popes gifte, Save a pardon with a peis of leed And two polles amyddes. Hadde ich a clerc that couthe write, 8520 I wolde caste hym a bille, That he sente me under his seel A salve for the pestilence, And that his blessynge and hise bulles Bocches myghte destruye. _In nomine meo dæmonia ejicient, et super ægros manus imponent, et bene habebunt._
"And thanne wolde I be prest to the peple Paast for to make, 8530 And buxom and busy Aboute breed and drynke For hym and for alle hise, Founde I that his pardon Mighte lechen a man, As I bileve it sholde. For sith he hath the power That Peter hymself hadde, He hath the pot with the salve, Soothly as me thynketh. 8540 _Argentum et aurum non est mihi; quod autem habeo tibi do: in nomine Domini surge et ambula._
"Ac if myght of myracle hym faille, It is for men ben noght worthi To have the grace of God, And no gilt of pope. For may no blessynge doon us boote, But if we wile amende, 8550 {262} Ne mannes masse make pees Among cristene peple, Til pride be pureliche for-do, And thorugh payn defaute. For er I have breed of mele, Oft moot I swete; And er the commune have corn y-nough, Many a cold morwenyng. So er my wafres be y-wroght, Muche wo I tholye. 8560
"At Londone, I leve, Liketh wel my wafres; And louren whan thei lakken hem. It is noght long y-passed, There was a careful commune, Whan no cart com to towne With breed fro Stratforde; Tho gonnen beggeris wepe, And werkmen were agast a lite; This wole be thought longe. 8570 In the date of oure Drighte, In a drye Aprille, A thousand and thre hundred Twies twenty and ten, My wafres there were gesene Whan Chichestre was maire."