Part 6

And thanne com Pees into parlement, And putte forth a bille, How Wrong ayeins his wille Hadde his wif taken, And how he ravysshede Rose Reginaldes loove, 2180 And Margrete of hir maydenhede Maugree hire chekes. "Bothe my gees and my grys Hise gadelynges feccheth, I dar noght for fere of hem Fighte ne chide. He borwed of me Bayard, He broughte hym hom nevere, Ne no ferthyng therfore, For ought I koude plede. 2190 He maynteneth hise men To murthere myne hewen, Forstalleth my feires, And fighteth in my chepyng, And breketh up my bernes dore, And bereth awey my whete, And taketh me but a taillé For ten quarters of otes; And yet he beteth me therto, And lyth by my mayde. 2200 I am noght hardy for hym Unnethe to loke."

The kyng knew he seide sooth, For Conscience hym tolde {69} That Wrong was a wikked luft, And wroghte muche sorwe.

Wrong was afered thanne, And Wisdom he soughte, To maken pees with hise pens; And profred hym manye, 2210 And seide, "Hadde I love of my lord the kyng, Litel wolde I recche, Theigh Pees and his power Pleyned hym evere."

Tho wente Wisdom And sire Waryn the Witty, For that Wrong hadde y-wroght So wikked a dede, And warnede Wrong tho With swich a wis tale, 2220 "Who so wercheth by wille, Wrathe maketh ofte; I sey it by myself, Thow shalt it wel fynde; But if Mede it make, Thi meschief is uppe, For bothe thi lif and thi lond Lyth in his grace."

Thanne wowede Wrong Wisdom ful yerne, 2230 To maken pees with his pens, Handy dandy payed.

Wisdom and Wit thanne Wenten togidres, And token Mede myd hem Mercy to wynne.

Pees putte forth his heed, And his panne blody, {70} "Withouten gilt, God it woot, Gat I this scathe; 2240 Conscience and the commune Knowen the sothe."

Ac Wisdom and Wit Were aboute faste, To overcomen the kyng With catel, if thei myghte.

The kyng swor by Crist, And by his crowne bothe, That Wrong for hise werkes Sholde wo tholie; 2250 And comaundede a constable To casten hym in irens, And lete hym noght thise seven yer Seen his feet ones.

"God woot," quod Wisdom, "That were noght the beste; And he amendes nowe make, Lat maynprise hym have, And be borgh for his bale, And buggen hym boote, 2260 And so amenden that is mys-do And evere moore the bettre."

Wit acorded therwith, And seide the same, "Bettre is that boote Bale a-doun brynge, Than bale be y-bet, And boote never the bettre."

And thanne gan Mede to mengen hire, And mercy she bi-soughte, 2270 And profrede Pees a present Al of pure golde: {71} "Have this, man, of me," quod she, "To amenden thi scathe, For I wol wage for Wrong He wol do so na-moore."

Pitously Pees thanne Preyde to the kynge, To have mercy on that man That mys-dide hym so ofte; 2280 "For he hath waged me wel, As Wisdom hym taughte, And I forgyve hym that gilt With a good wille, So that the kyng assente, I kan seye no bettre; For Mede hath me amendes maad, I may na-moore axe."

"Nay," quod the kyng tho, "So me Crist helpe! 2290 Wrong wendeth noght so a-wey, Erst wole I wite moore. For lope he so lightly, Laughen he wolde; And eft the boldere be To bete myne hewen; But Reson have ruthe on hym, He shal reste in my stokkes; And that as longe as he lyveth, But lownesse hym borwe." 2300

Som men radde Reson tho To have ruthe on that shrewe, And for to counseille the kyng, And Conscience after; That Mede moste be maynpernour Reson thei bi-soughte. {72}

"Reed me noght," quod Reson, "No ruthe to have, Til lordes and ladies Loven alle truthe, 2310 And haten alle harlotrie, To heren or to mouthen it.

"Til Parnelles purfille Be put in hire hucche, And childrene cherissynge Be chastynge with yerdes, And harlottes holynesse Be holden for an hyne.

"Til clerkene coveitise be To clothe the povere and fede, 2320 And religiouse romeris _Recordare_ in hir cloistres, As seynt Beneyt hem bad, Bernard and Fraunceis, And til prechours prechynge Be preved on hemselve.

"Til the kynges counseil Be the commune profit, Til bisshopes bayardes Ben beggeris chaumbres, 2330 Hire haukes and hire houndes Help to povere religious.

"And til seint James be sought There I shal assigne, That no man go to Galis But if he go for evere;-- And alle Rome renneres, For robberes biyonde, Bere no silver over see That signe of kyng sheweth, 2340 {73} Neither grave ne ungrave, Gold neither silver, Upon forfeture of that fee, Who so fynt it at Dovere, But if he be marchaunt or his man, Or messager with lettres, Provysour or preest, Or penaunt for hise synnes.

"And yet," quod Reson, "by the Rode! I shal no ruthe have, 2350 While Mede hath the maistrie In this moot-halle. Ac I may shewe ensamples, As I se outher while, I seye it by myself," quod he, "And it so were That I were kyng with coroune To kepen a reaume, Sholde nevere Wrong in this world, That I wite myghte, 2360 Ben unpunysshed in my power, For peril of my soule, Ne gete my grace for giftes, So me God save! Ne for no mede have mercy, But mekenesse it make; For _nullum malum_ the man Mette with _inpunitum_, And bad _nullum bonum_ Be _irremuneratum_. 2370

"Lat youre confessour, sire kyng, Construe this unglosed; And if ye werchen it in werk, I wedde myne eris, {74} That lawe shal ben a laborer And lede a-feld donge, And love shal lede thi lond, As the leef liketh."

Clerkes that were confessours Coupled hem togideres, 2380 Al to construe this clause, And for the kynges profit, Ac noght for confort of the commune, Ne for the kynges soule; For I seigh Mede in the moot-halle On men of lawe wynke, And thei laughynge lope to hire, And left Reson manye. Waryn Wisdom Wynked upon Mede, 2390 And seide, "Madame, I am youre man, What so my mouth jangle; I falle in floryns," quod that freke, "And faile speche ofte."

Alle rightfulle recordede That Reson truthe tolde; And Wit acorded therwith, And comendede hise wordes, And the mooste peple in the halle, And manye of the grete, 2400 And leten Mekenesse a maister, And Mede a mansed sherewe.

Love leet of hire light, And leauté yet lasse, And seiden it so heighe That al the halle it herde, "Who so wilneth hire to wif, For welthe of hire goodes, {75} But he be knowe for a cokewold, Kut of my nose." 2410

Mede mornede tho, And made hevy chere, For the mooste commune of that court Called hire an hore. Ac a sisour and a somonour Sued hire faste, And a sherreves clerk Bisherewed at the route; "For ofte have I," quod he, "Holpen yow at the barre, 2420 And yet yeve ye me nevere The worth of a risshe."

The kyng callede Conscience, And afterward Reson, And recordede that Reson Hadde rightfully shewed; And modiliche upon Mede With myght the kyng loked; And gan wexe wroth with lawe, For Mede almoost hadde shent it; 2430 And seide, "thorugh lawe, as I leve! I lese manye eschetes; Mede overmaistreth lawe, And muche Truthe letteth. Ac Reson shal rekene with yow, If I regne any while, And deme yow bi this day, As ye han deserved. Mede shal noght maynprise yow, By the Marie of hevene! 2440 I wole have leauté in lawe, And lete be al youre janglyng; {76} And as moost folk witnesseth wel, Wrong shal be demed."

Quod Conscience to the kyng, "But the commune wole assente, It is ful hard, by myn heed! Hertoo to brynge it, Alle youre lige leodes To lede thus evene." 2450

"By hym that raughte on the rode!" Quod Reson to the kynge, "But if I rule thus youre reaume, Rende out my guttes, If ye bidden buxomnesse Be of myn assent."

"And I assente," seith the kyng, "By seinte Marie my lady! By my counseil commune, Of clerkes and of erles; 2460 Ac redily, Reson, Thow shalt noght ride fro me, For, as longe as I lyve, Lete thee I nelle."

"I am al redy," quod Reson, "To reste with yow evere; So Conscience be of oure counseil, I kepe no bettre."

"And I graunte," quod the kyng, "Goddes forbode ellis! Als longe as oure lyf lasteth, Lyve we togideres." 2472

* * * * *

{77}

_Passus Quintus de Visione, ut supra._

The kyng and hise knyghtes 2473 To the kirke wente, To here matyns of the day And the masse after. Thanne waked I of my wynkyng, And wo was withalle, That I ne hadde slept sadder, And y-seighen moore. 2480 Ac er I hadde faren a furlong, Feyntise me hente, That I ne myghte ferther a foot For defaute of slepynge, And sat softely a-doun, And seide my bileve, And so I bablede on my bedes, Thei broughte me a-slepe. And thanne saugh I muche moore Than I bifore of tolde, 2490 For I seigh the feld ful of folk, That I bifore of seide, And how Reson gan arayen hym Al the reaume to preche, And with a cros afore the kyng Comsede thus to techen. {78}

He preved that thise pestilences Were for pure synne, And the south-westrene wynd On Saterday at even 2500 Was pertliche for pure pride, And for no point ellis; Pyries and plum-trees Were puffed to the erthe, In ensaumple that the segges Sholden do the bettre; Beches and brode okes Were blowen to the grounde, Turned upward hire tailes, In tokenynge of drede 2510 That dedly synne er domes-day Shal for-doon hem alle.

Of this matere I myghte Mamelen ful longe; Ac I shal seye as I saugh, So me God helpe! How pertly afore the peple Reson bigan to preche.

He bad Wastour go werche, What he best kouthe, 2520 And wynnen his wastyng With som maner crafte.

He preide Pernele Hir purfil to lete, And kepe it in hire cofre For catel at hire nede.

Tomme Stowne he taughte To take two staves, And fecche Felice hom Fro the wynen pyne. 2530 {79} He warnede Watte His wif was to blame, For hire heed was worth half marc, And his hood noght worth a grote; And bad Bette kutte A bough outher tweye, And bete Beton therwith, But if she wolde werche.

And thanne he chargede chapmen To chastizen hir children, 2540 Late no wynnyng hem for-wanye While thei be yonge, Ne for no poustee of pestilence Plese hem noght out of reson. "My sire seide so to me, And so dide my dame, That the levere child The moore loore bihoveth; And Salomon seide the same, That _Sapience_ made, 2550 _Qui parcit virgæ, odit filium_. The Englissh of this Latyn is, Who so wole it knowe Who so spareth the spring, Spilleth hise children."

And sithen he prechede prelates And preestes togideres, "That ye prechen to the peple, Preve it on yowselve, And dooth it in dede, 2560 It shal drawe yow to goode; If ye leven as ye leren us, We shul leve yow the bettre."

And sithen he radde Religion {80} Hir rule to holde; "Lest the kyng and his conseil Youre comunes apeire, And be stywardes of youre stedes, Til ye be ruled bettre."

And sithen he counseiled the kyng 2570 His commune to lovye; "It is thi trewe tresor, And tryacle at thy nede."

And sithen he preide the pope Have pité on holy chirche, And er he gyve any grace, Governe first hymselve.

"And ye that han lawes to kepe, Lat truthe be youre coveitise, Moore than gold outher giftes, 2580 If ye wol God plese; For who so contrarieth Truthe, He telleth in the gospel, That God knoweth hym noght, Ne no seynt of hevene. _Amen dico vobis, nescio vos._

"And ye that seke seynt James, And seyntes of Rome, Seketh seynt Truthe, For he may save yow alle; 2590 _Qui cum patre et filio_, That faire hem bi-falle That seweth my sermon." And thus seyde Reson.

Thanne ran Repentaunce, And reherced his teme: And garte Wille to wepe Water with hise eighen. {81}

Pernele Proud-herte Platte hire to the erthe, 2600 And lay longe er she loked, And "Lord, mercy!" cryde, And bi-highte to hym That us alle made, She sholde unsowen hir serk, And sette there an heyre, To affaiten hire flesshe That fiers was to synne. "Shal nevere heigh herte me hente, But holde I wole me lowe 2610 And suffre to be mys-seyd, And so dide I nevere; And now I wole meke me, And mercy biseche, For al this I have Hated in myn herte."

Thanne Lechour seide, "Allas!" And on oure Lady he cryde, To maken mercy for hise mys-dedes Bitwene God and his soule; 2620 With that he sholde the Saterday, Seven yer therafter, Drynke but myd the doke, And dyne but ones.

Envye with hevy herte Asked after shrifte, And carefully _mea culpa_ He comsed to shewe. He was as pale as a pelet, In the palsy he semed; 2630 And clothed in a kaurymaury, I kouthe it nought discryve, {82} In kirtel and courtepy, And a knyf by his syde; Of a freres frokke Were the fore-sleves; And as a leek that hadde y-leye Longe in the sonne, So loked he with lene chekes Lourynge foule. 2640

His body was to-bollen for wrathe, That he boot hise lippes; And wryngynge he yede with the fust, To wreke hymself he thoughte With werkes or with wordes, Whan he seyghe his tyme. Ech a word that he warpe Was of a neddres tonge; Of chidynge and of chalangynge Was his chief liflode, 2650 With bakbitynge and bismere, And berynge of fals witnesse.

"I wolde ben y-shryve," quod this sherewe, "And I for shame dorste; I wolde be gladder, by God! That Gybbe hadde meschaunce, Than though I hadde this wouke y-wonne A weye of Essex chese.

"I have a neghebore by me, I have anoyed hym ofte, 2660 And lowen on hym to lordes To doon hym lese his silver, And maad his frendes be his foon Thorugh my false tonge; His grace and his goode happes Greven me ful soore. {83}

"Bitwene manye and manye I make debate ofte, That bothe lif and lyme Is lost thorugh my speche. 2670 And whan I mete hym in market That I moost hate, I hailse hym hendely, As I his frend were; For he is doughtier than I, I dar do noon oother; Ac hadde I maistrie and myght, God woot my wille!

"And whan I come to the kirk, And sholde knele to the roode, 2680 And preye for the peple As the preest techeth, For pilgrymes and for palmeres, For al the peple after, Thanne I crye on my knees That Crist gyve hem sorwe, That beren awey my bolle And my broke shete.

"Awey fro the auter thanne Turne I myne eighen, 2690 And bi-holde Eleyne Hath a newe cote; I wisshe thanne it were myn, And al the web after.

"And of mennes lesynge I laughe, That liketh myn herte; And for hir wynnynge I wepe, And waille the tyme; And deme that thei doon ille, There I do wel werse. 2700 {84} Who so under-nymeth me hero I hate hym dedly after; I wolde that ech a wight Were my knave, For who so hath moore than I, Than angreth me soore. And thus I lyve love-lees, Lik a luther dogge; That al my body bolneth, For bitter of my galle. 2710

"I myghte noght ete many yeres As a man oughte, For envye and yvel wil Is yvel to defie. May no sugre ne swete thyng Aswage my swellyng? Ne no _diapenidion_ Dryve it fro myn herte? Ne neither shrifte ne shame, But who so shrape my mawe?" 2720

"Yis redily," quod Repentaunce, And radde hym to the beste, "Sorwe of synnes Is savacion of soules."

"I am sory," quod that segge, "I am but selde oother, And that maketh me thus megre, For I ne may me venge.

"Amonges burgeises have I be Dwellyng at Londone, 2730 And gart bakbityng be a brocour To blame mennes ware; Whan he solde and I nought, Thanne was I redy {85} To lye and to loure on my neghebore, And to lakke his chaffare; I wole amende this, if I may, Thorugh myght of God almyghty."

Now awaketh Wrathe, With two white eighen; 2740 And nevelynge with the nose, And his nekke hangyng.

"I am Wrathe," quod he, "I was som tyme a frere, And the coventes gardyner For to graffen impes; On lymitours and listres Lesynges I ymped, Til thei beere leves of lowe speche, Lordes to plese, 2750 And sithen thei blosmede a-brood In boure to here shriftes; And now is fallen therof a fruyt, That folk han wel levere Shewen hire shriftes to hem, Than shryve hem to hir persons.

"And now persons han perceyved That freres parte with hem, Thise possessioners preche And deprave freres. 2760

"And freres fyndeth hem in defaute, As folk bereth witnesse, That whan thei preche the peple In many places aboute, I Wrathe walke with hem, And wisse hem of my bokes. Thus thei speken of my spiritualté, That either despiseth oother, {86} Til thei be bothe beggers And by my spiritualté libben, 2770 Or ellis al riche And ryden aboute. I Wrathe reste nevere, That I ne moste folwe This wikked folk, For swich is my grace.

"I have an aunte to nonne, And an abbesse bothe; Hir hadde levere swowe or swelte, Than suffre any peyne, 2780

"I have be cook in hir kichene, And the covent served Manye monthes with hem, And with monkes bothe. I was the prioresse potager, And othere povere ladies, And maad hem joutes of janglyng, That dame Johane was a bastard, And dame Clarice a knyghtes doughter, Ac a cokewold was hir sire; 2790 And dame Pernele a preestes fyle, Prioresse worth she nevere, For she hadde child in chirie-tyme, Al our chapitre it wiste.

"Of wikkede wordes I Wrathe hire wortes made, Til 'thow lixt' and 'thow lixt' Lopen out at ones, And either hite oother Under the cheke; 2800 Hadde thei had knyves, by Crist Hir either hadde kild oother. {87}

"Seint Gregory was a good pope, And hadde a good forwit, That no prioresse were preest, For that he ordeyned; They hadde thanne ben _infames_ the firste day, Thei kan so yvele hele conseil.

"Among monkes I myghte be, Ac many tyme I shonye it; 2810 For there ben manye felle frekes My feeris to aspie, Bothe priour and suppriour And oure _pater abbas_; And if I telle any tales, Thei taken hem togideres, And doon me faste frydayes To breed and to watre, And am chalanged in the chapitre hous As I a child were, 2820 And baleised on the bare ers, And no brech bitwene. For-thi have I no likyng With tho leodes to wonye. I ete there unthende fisshe, And feble ale drynke; Ac outher while whan wyn cometh, Thanne I drynke wyn at eve, And have a flux of a foul mouth Wel fyve dayes after. 2830 Al the wikkednesse that I woot By any of oure bretheren, I couthe it in oure cloistre, That al oure covent woot it."

"Now repente thee," quod Repentaunce, "And reherce thow nevere {88} Counseil that thow knowest By contenaunce ne by right; And drynk nat over delicatly, Ne to depe neither, 2840 That thi wille by cause therof To wrathe myghte turne. _Esto sobrius_," he seide, And assoiled me after, And bad me wilne to wepe My wikkednesse to amende.

And thanne cam Coveitise, Kan I hym naght discryve, So hungrily and holwe Sire Hervy hym loked. 2850 He was bitel-browed, And baber-lipped also, With two blered eighen As a blynd hagge; And as a letheren purs Lolled hise chekes, Wel sidder than his chyn Thei chyveled for elde; And as a bonde-man of his bacon His berd was bi-draveled, 2860 With an hood on his heed, A lousy hat above, And in a tawny tabard Of twelf wynter age, Al so torn and baudy, And ful of lys crepyng, But if that a lous couthe Han lopen the bettre, She sholde noght han walked on that welthe, So was it thred-bare. 2870 {89}

"I have ben coveitous," quod this caytif, "I bi-knowe it here, For som tyme I served Symme-atte-Style, And was his prentice y-plight His profit to wayte.

"First I lerned to lye, A leef outher tweyne; Wikkedly to weye Was my firste lesson; 2880 To Wy and to Wynchestre I wente to the feyre, With many manere marchaundise, As my maister me highte. Ne hadde the grace of gyle y-go Amonges my chaffare, It hadde ben unsold this seven yer, So me God helpe!

"Thanne drough I me among drapiers, My donet to lerne, 2890 To drawe the liser along, The lenger it semed; Among the riche rayes I rendred a lesson, To broche hem with a pak-nedle, And playte hem togideres, And putte hem in a presse, And pyne hem therinne, Til ten yerdes or twelve Hadde tolled out thrittene. 2900

"My wif was a webbe, And wollen cloth made; She spak to spynnesteres To spynnen it oute, {90} Ac the pound that she paied by Peised a quatron moore Than myn owene auncer, Who so weyed truthe.

"I boughte hire barly-malt, She brew it to selle, 2910 Peny ale and puddyng ale She poured togideres, For laborers and for lowe folk That lay by hymselve.

"The beste ale lay in my bour, Or in my bed-chambre; And who so bummed therof, Boughte it therafter, A galon for a grote, God woot, no lesse! 2920 And yet it cam in cuppe-mele, This craft my wif used. Rose the Regrater Was hire righte name; She hath holden hukkerye Al hire lif tyme. Ac I swere now, so thee ik! That synne wol I lete, And nevere wikkedly weye, Ne wikke chaffare use; 2930 But wenden to Walsyngham, And my wif als, And bidde the Roode of Bromholm Brynge me out of dette."

"Repentedestow evere?" quod Repentaunce, "Or restitucion madest."

"Yis, ones I was y-herberwed," quod he, {91} "With an heep of chapmen, I roos whan thei were a-reste And riflede hire males." 2940

"That was no restitucion," quod Repentaunce, "But a robberis thefte; Thow haddest be the bettre worthi Ben hanged therfore, Than for al that That thow hast here shewed."

"I wende riflynge were restitucion," quod he, "For I lerned nevere rede on boke; And I kan no Frensshe, in feith, But of the fertheste ende of Northfolk." 2950

"Usedestow evere usurie?" quod Repentaunce, "In al thi lif tyme."

"Nay sothly," he seide, "Save in my youthe I lerned among Lumbardes And Jewes a lesson, To weye pens with a peis, And pare the hevyeste, And lene it for love of the cros, To legge a wed and lese it. 2960 Swiche dedes I dide write, If he his day breke, I have mo manoirs thorugh rerages, Than thorugh _miseretur et commodat_.

"I have lent lordes And ladies my chaffare, And ben hire brocour after, And bought it myselve; {92} Eschaunges and chevysaunces With swich chaffare I dele, 2970 And lene folk that lese wole A lippe at every noble, And with Lumbardes lettres I ladde gold to Rome, And took it by tale here, And tolde hem there lasse."

"Lentestow evere lordes, For love of hire mayntenaunce?"

"Ye, I have lent to lordes, Loved me nevere after, 2980 And have y-maad many a knyght Bothe mercer and draper, That payed nevere for his prentishode Noght a peire gloves."