Pierce the Ploughmans Crede [electronic edition]Rev. Walter W. Skeat, M.A.Oxford Text ArchiveUM Humanities Text InitiativePPlCreed

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May 1996Pierce the Ploughmans CredeRev. Walter W. Skeat, M.A. Early English Text Society 1867

Front matter from printed edition not included.

Editorial notes from print not included in electronic edition.

One caesura which was omitted (line 69) has been supplied; line 444 of the text has no caesura in the print edition.

Peres The Ploughmans Crede Lines 1 through 100 CROS, AND Curteis Crist � þis begynnynge spede, For þe faderes frendchipe � þat fourmede Heuene, And þoruȝ þe speciall spirit � þat sprong of hem tweyne, And alle in on godhed � endles dwelleþ ! A and all myn A.b.c � after haue y lerned, And [patred] in my pater-noster � iche poynt after oþer, And after all, myn Aue-marie � almost to þe ende ; But all my kare is to comen � for y can nohȝt my Crede. Whan y schal schewen myn schrift � schent mote y worþen, Þe prest wil me punyche � & penaunce enioyne ; Þe Lengþe of a Lenten � flech moot y leue After þat Estur ys ycomen � and þat is hard fare ; And Wedenes-day iche wyke � wiþ-outen flech-mete. And also Jesu hym-self � to the Jewes he seyde, " He þat leeueþ nouȝt on me � he leseþ þe blisse." Þerfor lerne þe byleue � leuest me were, And if any werldly wiȝt � wille me couþe, Oþer lewed or lered � þat lyueþ þerafter, And fulliche folweth þe feyþ � and feyneþ non oþer ; Þat no worldliche wele � wilneþ no tyme, But lyueþ in louynge of God � and his lawe holdeþ, And for no getynge of good � neuer his God greueþ, But follow[e]þ him þe full wey � as he þe folke taughte. But to many maner of men � þis matter is asked, Boþe to lered and to lewed � þat seyn þat þey leueden Hollich on þe grete god � and hoden alle his hestes ; But by a fraynyng for-þan � faileþ þer manye. For first y fraynede þe freres � and þey me fulle tolden, Þat all þe frute of þe fayþ � was in here foure ordres, And þe cofres of cristendam � & þe keye boþen, And þe lok [of beleve � lyeth] loken in her hondes. Þanne [wende] y to wyten � & wiþ a whiȝt y mette, A Menoure in a morow-tide � & to þis man I saide, " Sire, for grete god[e]s loue � þe graiþ þou me telle, Of what myddelerde man � myȝte y best lerne My Crede ? For I can it nouȝt � my kare is þe more ; & þerfore, for Cristes loue ! � þi councell y praie. A Carm me haþ y-couenaunt � þe Crede me to teche ; But for þou knowest Carmes well � þi counsaile y aske." Þis Menour loked on me � and lawȝyng he seyde, " Leue Cristen man � y leue þat þou madde ! Whouȝ schulde þei techen þe God � þat con not hemselue? Þei ben but jugulers � and iapers, of kynde, Lorels and Lechures � & lemmans holden ; Neyþer in order ne out � but vn-neþe lybbeþ, And byiapeþ þe folke � wiþ gestes of Rome ! It is but a faynt folk � i-founded vp-on iapes, Þei makeþ hem Maries men � (so þei men tellen), And lieþ on our Ladie � many a longe tale. And þat wicked folke � wymmen bi-traieþ, And bigileþ hem of her good � wiþ glauerynge wordes, And þerwiþ holden her hous � in harlotes werkes. And, so saue me God ! � I hold it gret synne To ȝyuen hem any good � swiche glotones to fynde, To maynteyne swiche maner men � þat mychel good destruyeþ. Ȝet seyn they in here sutilte � to sottes in townes, Þei comen out of Carmeli � Crist for to followen, & feyneþ hem with holynes � þat yuele hem bisemeþ. Þei lyuen more in lecherie � and lieth in her tales Þan suen any god liife ; � but [lurken] in her selles, [And] wynnen werldliche god � & wasten it in synne. And ȝif þei couþen her credo � oþer on Crist leueden, Þei weren nouȝt so hardie � swich harlotri vsen. Sikerli y can nouȝt fynden � who hem first founded, But þe foles foundeden hem-self � freres of the Pye, And maken hem mendynauns � & marre þe puple. But what glut of þo gomes � may any good kachen, He will kepen it hym-self � & cofren it faste, And þeiȝ his felawes fayle good � for him he may steruen. Her money may bi-quest � & testament maken, And no obedience bere � but don as [hem] luste. [And] ryȝt as Robertes men � raken aboute, At feires & at ful ales � & fyllen þe cuppe, And precheþ all of pardon � to plesen the puple. Her pacience is all based � & but out to ferme, And pride is in her pouerte � þat litell is to preisen. And at þe lulling of oure Ladye � þe wymmen to lyken, And miracles of mydwyves � & maken wymmen to wenen Þat þe lace of oure ladie smok � liȝteþ hem of children. Þei ne prechen nouȝt of Powel � ne penaunce for synne, But all of mercy & mensk � þat Marie maie helpen. Wiþ sterne staues and stronge � þey ouer lond strakeþ Þider as her lemmans liggeþ � and lurkeþ in townes, (Grey grete-hedede quenes � wiþ gold by þe eiȝen), And seyn, þat here sustien þei ben � þat soiourneþ aboute ; And þus about þey gon � & godes folke by-traieþ. It is þe puple þat Powel � preched of in his tyme ; He seyde of swich folk � þat so aboute wente, " Wepyng, y warne ȝow � of walkers aboute ; It beþ enemyes of þe cros � þat crist opon þolede. Swiche slomerers in slepe � slauþe is her ende, And glotony is her God � wiþ g[l]oppyng of drynk, And gladnes in glees � & gret ioye y-maked ; In þe schendyng of swiche � schall mychel folk lawȝe.' Þperfore, frend, for þi feyþ � fond to don betere, Leue nouȝt on þo losels � but let hem forþ pasen, For þei ben fals in her feiþ � & fele mo oþere." " Alas ! frere," quaþ I þo � " my purpos is i-failed, Now is my counfort a-cast ! � canstou no bote, Where y myȝte meten wiþ a man � þat myȝte me [wissen] Lines 101 through 200 For to connne my Crede � Crist for to folwen ?" "CERTEYNE, felawe," quaþ þe frere � " wiþ-outen any faile. Of all men opon mold � we Menures most scheweþ Þe pure Apostell[e]s life � wiþ penance on erþe, And suen hem in saunctite � & suffren well harde. We haunten none tauernes � ne hobelen abouten ; At marketts & myracles � we medleþ vs nevere ; We hondlen no money � but menelich faren, And haven hunger at [the] meate � at ich a mel ones. We hauen forsaken the worlde � & in wo lybbeþ, In penaunce & pouerte � & precheþ þe puple, By ensample of oure life � soules to helpen ; And in pouertie praien � for all oure parteners Þat ȝyueþ vs any good � god to honouren, Oþer bell oþer booke � or breed to our fode, Oþer catell oþer cloþ � to coveren wiþ our bones, Money or money-worthe ; � here mede is in heven. For we buldeþ a burwȝ � a brod and a large, A Chirche and A Chapaile � with chambers a-lofte, Wiþ wide windowes y-wrouȝt � & walles well heye, Þat mote bene portreid and paynt � & pulched ful clene, Wiþ gaie glittering glas � glowing as þe sonne. And myȝtestou amenden vs � wiþ money of þyn owne, Þou chuldest enely bifore Crist � in compas of gold In þe wide windowe westwarde � wel niȝo in the myddell, And seynt Fraunces himself � schall folden the in his cope, And presente the to the trynitie � and praie for thy synnes ; Þi name schall noblich ben wryten � & wrouȝt for the nones, And, in remembrance of þe � y-rade þer for euer. And, broþer, be þou nouȝt aferd ; � [bythenk in] thyn herte, Þouȝ þou conne nouȝt þi Crede � kare þou no more. I schal asoilen þe, syre � & setten it on my soule, And þou maie maken þis good � þenk þou non oþer." " SIRE," y saide, " in certaine � y schal gon & asaye ;"-- And he sette on me his honde � & asoilede me clene, And þeir y parted him fro � wiþ-outen any peine, In couenant þat y come aȝen � Crist he me be-tauȝte. þanne saide y to my-self � " here semeþ litel trewþe ! First to blamen his broþer � and bacbyten him foule, Þeire-as curteis Crist � clereliche saide, " Whow myȝt-tou in thine broþer eiȝe � a bare mote loken, And in þyn owen eiȝe � nouȝt a bem toten? See fyrst on þi-self � and siþen on anoþer, And clense clene þi syȝt � and kepe well þyn eiȝe, And for anoþer mannes eiȝe � ordeyne after.' And also y sey coueitise � catel to fongen, Þat Crist haþ clerliche forboden � & clenliche destruede, And saide to his sueres � forsoþe on þis wise, " Nouȝt þi neiȝbours good � couet yn no tyme.' But charite & chastete � ben chased out clene, But Crist seide, " by her fruyt � men shall hem ful knowen.' " Þanne saide y, " certeyn, sire � þou demest full trewe ! " ÞANNE þouȝt y to frayne þe first � of þis foure ordirs, And presede to þe prechoures � to proven here wille. [Ich] hiȝede to her house � to herken of more ; And whan y cam to þat court � y gaped aboute. Swich a bild bold, y-buld � opon erþe heiȝte Say i nouȝt in certeine � siþþe a longe tyme. Y ȝemede vpon þat house � & ȝerne þeron loked, Whouȝ þe pileres weren y-peynt � and pulched ful clene, And queynteli i-coruen � wiþ curiouse knottes, Wiþ wyndowes well y-wrouȝt � wide vp o-lofte. And þanne y entrid in � and even-forþ went, And all was walled þat wone � þouȝ it wid were, Wiþ posternes in pryuytie � to pasen when hem liste ; Orcheȝardes and erberes � euesed well clene, And a curious cros � craftly entayled, Wiþ tabernacles y-tiȝt � to toten all abouten. Þe pris of a plouȝ-lond � of penyes so rounde To aparaile þat pyler � were pure lytel. Þanne y munte me forþ � þe mynstre to knowen, And a-waytede a woon � wonderlie well y-beld Wiþ arches on eueriche half � & belliche y-corven, Wiþ crochetes on corners � wiþ knottes of golde, Wyde wyndowes y-wrouȝt � y-written full þikke, Schynen wiþ schapen scheldes � to schewen aboute, Wiþ merkes of marchauntes � y-medled bytwene, Mo þan twenty and two � twyes y-noumbered. Þer is none heraud þat haþ � halt swich a rolle, Riȝt as a rageman � haþ rekned hem newe. Tombes opon tabernacles � tyld opon lofte, Housed in hirnes � harde set abouten, Of armede alabaustre � clad for þe nones, [Made vpon marbel � in many maner wyse, Knyghtes in her conisantes � clad for þe nones,] All it semed seynteg � y-sacred opon erþe ; And louely ladies y-wrouȝt � leyen by her sydes In many gay garmentes � þat weren gold-beten. Þouȝ þe tax of ten ȝer � were trewly y-gadered, Nolde it nouȝt maken þat hous � half, as y trowe. Þanne kam I to þat cloister � & gaped abouten Whouȝ it was pilered and peynt � & portred well clene, All y-hyled wiþ leed � lowe to þe stones, And y-paued wiþ peynt til � iche poynte after oþer ; Wiþ kundites of clene tyn � closed all aboute, Wiþ lauoures of latun � louelyche y-greithed. I trowe þe gaynage of þe ground � in a gret schire Nolde aparaile þat place � oo poynt til other ende. Þanne was þe chaptire-hous wrouȝt � as a greet chirche, Coruen and couered � and queyntliche entayled ; Wiþ semlich selure � y-set on lofte ; Lines 201 through 300 As a Parlement-hous � y-peynted aboute. Þanne ferd y into fraytour � and fond þere an oþer, An halle for an heyȝ kinge � an housholde to holden, Wiþ brode bordes aboute � y-benched wel clene, Wiþ windowes of glas � wrouȝt as a Chirche. Þanne walkede y ferrer � & went all abouten, And seiȝ halles full hyȝe � & houses full noble, Chambers wiþ chymneyes � & Chapells gaie ; And kychens for an hyȝe kinge � in castells to holden, And her dortour y-diȝte � wiþ dores ful stronge ; Fermery and fraitur � with fele mo houses, And all strong ston wall � sterne opon heiþe, Wiþ gaie garites & grete � & iche hole y-glased ; [And oþere] houses y-nowe � to herberwe þe queene. And ȝet þise bilderes wilne beggen � a bagg-ful of wheate Of a pure pore man � þat maie oneþe paie Half his rente in a ȝer � and half ben behynde ! Þanne turned y aȝen � whan y hadde all y-toted, And fond in a freitour � a frere on a benche, A greet cherl & a grym � growen as a tonne, Wiþ a face as fat � as a full bledder, Blowen bretfull of breþ � & as a bagge honged On boþen his chekes, & his chyn � wiþ a chol lollede, As greet as a gos eye � growen all of grece ; Þat all wagged his fleche � as a quyk myre. His cope þat biclypped him � wel clene was it folden, Of double worstede y-dyȝt � doun to þe hele ; His kyrtel of clene whijt � clenlyche y-sewed ; Hyt was good y-now of ground � greyn for to beren. I haylsedo þat herdeman � & hendliche y saide, " Gode syre, for Godes loue � canstou me graiþ tellen To any worþely wijȝt � þat [wissen] me couþe Whou y schulde conne my Crede � Crist for to folowe, Þat leuede lelliche him-self � & lyuede þerafter, Þat feynede non falshede � but fully Crist suwede ? For sich a certeyn man � syker wold y trosten, Þat he wolde telle me þe trewþe � and turne to none oþer. And an Austyn þis ender daie � egged me faste ; Þat he wolde techen me wel � he plyȝt me his treuþe, And seyde me, " serteyne � syþen Crist died Oure ordir was [euelles] � & erst y-founde.' " " FYRST, felawe !" quaþ he � " fy on his pilche ! He is but abortijf � eked wiþ cloutes ! He holdeþ his ordynaunce � wiþe hores and þeues, And purchaseþ hem pryuileges � wiþ penyes so rounde ; It is a pur pardoners craft � proue & asaye ! For haue þei þi money � a moneþ þerafter, Certes, þeiȝ þou come aȝen � he nyl þe nouȝt knowen. But, felawe, our foundement � was first of þe oþere, And we ben founded fulliche � wiþ-outen fayntise ; And we ben clerkes y-cnowen � cunnynge in scole, Proued in procession � by processe of lawe. Of oure ordre þer beþ � bichopes wel manye, Seyntes on sundry stedes � þat suffreden harde ; And we ben proued þe prijs � of popes at Rome, And of gretest degre � as godspelles telleþ." " A ! syre," quaþ y þanne � " þon seyst a gret wonder, Siþen Crist seyd hym-self � to all his disciples, " Which of ȝou þat is most � most schal he werche, And who is goer byforne � first schal he seruen.' And seyde, " he sawe satan � sytten full heyȝe And ful lowe ben y-leyd ;' � in lyknes he tolde, Þat in pouernesse of spyrit � is spedfullest hele, And hertes of heynesse � harmeþ þe soule. And þerfore, frere, fare well � here fynde y but pride ; Y preise nouȝt þi preching � but as a pure myte." And anger[l]ich y wandrede � þe Austyns to proue, And mette wiþ a maister of þo men � & meklich y seyde, " Maister, for þe moder loue � þat Marie men kalleþ, Knowest þou ouȝt þer þou comest � a creatour on erþe, Þat coude me my Crede teche � and trewliche enfourme, Wiþ-outen flaterynge fare � & noþing feyne ? Þat folweþ fulliche þe feiþ � and none other fables, Wiþ-outen gabbynge of glose � as þe godspelles telleþ ? A Menour haþ me holly by-hyȝt � to helen my soule, For he seiþ þat her sekte � is sykerest on erþe, And ben kepers of þe keye � þat Cristendome helpeþ, And pur[l]iche in pouerte � þe apostells þey suweþ." " ALAS ! ' quaþ þe frier � " almost y madde in mynde, To sen houȝ þis Minoures � many men begyleth ! Soþli, somme of þo gomes � haþ more good him-selue Þan ten knyȝtes þat y knowe � of catell in cofers ! In fraytour þei faren best � of all þe foure orders, And [vsen] ypocricie � in all þat þey werchen, And prechen all of parfitnes � but loke now, y þe praye, Nouȝt but profre hem in pryvite � a [peny] for a masse, And, but his cnaue be prest � put out myne eiȝe, Þouȝ he hadde more money hid � þan marchantes of wolle ! Loke houȝ þis loresmen � lordes bytrayen, Seyn þat þey folwen fully � Fraunceses rewle, Þat in cotynge of his cope � is more cloþ y-folden Þan was in Fraunces froc � whan he hem first made. And ȝet, vnder þat cope � a cote haþ he furred, Wiþ foyns, or wiþ fitchewes � oþer fyn beuer, And þat is cutted to þe kne � & queyntly y-botend, Lest any spirituall man � aspie þat gile. Fraunces bad his breþeren � barfote to wenden ; Non han þei bucled schon � for bleynynge of her heles, And hosen in harde weder � y-hamled by þe ancle, Lines 301 through 400 And spicerie sprad in her purse � to parten where hem lust. Lordes loueth hem well � for þei so lowe crouchen ; But knewen men her cautel � & her queynt wordes, Þei wolde worchyhen hem � nouȝt but a litel, Þe image of ybocricie � ymped vpon fendes. But, sone, ȝif þou wilte ben syker � seche þou no ferther, We friers be þe first � and founded vpon treuþe. Paul primus [heremita] � put vs him-selue Awey into wildernes � þe werlde to dispisen ; And þere we leng[e]den full longe � & lyueden full harde, For-to all þis freren folke � weren founded in townes, And tauȝten vntrulie ; � and þat we well aspiede, And for chefe charitie � we chargeden vs seluen ; In amending of þis men � we maden oure celles To ben in cyties y-set � to styȝtle þe people, Preching & praying � as profetes schulden ; And so we holden vs þe heued � of all holy chirche. We haue power of the pope � purliche assoilen All þat helpen our hous � in helpe of her soules, To dispensen hem wiþ � in dedes of synne ; All þat amendeth oure hous � in money oþer elles, Wiþ corne oþer catell � or cloþes of beddes, Oþer- bedys or broche � or breed for our fode. And ȝif þou hast any good � & wilt þi-selfe helpen, Helpe vs hertliche þerwiþe � & here I vndertake, Þou schalt ben broþer of our hous � & a boke habben (At þe next chaptire) � clereliche ensealed ; And þanne oure prouinciall � haþ power to assoilen Alle sustren & breþeren � þat beþ of our order. And þouȝ þou conne nouȝt þi Crede � knele downe here ; My soule y sette for þyn � to asoile þe clene, In Couenaunt þat þou come againe � & katell vs bringe." And þanne loutede y adoun � & he me leue grauntede, And so I partid him fro � & þe frere left. Þanne seid I to my-self � " here is no bote ; Heere pride is þe pater-noster � in preyinge of synne ; Here Crede is coueytise ; � now can y no ferþer, Ȝet will y fonden forþ � & fraynen þe Karmes." ÞANNE totede into a tauerne � & þer y aspyede Two frere Karmes � wiþ a full coppe. Þere y auntrede me in � & ai[s]liche y seide, " Leue syre, for þe lordes loue � þat þou on leuest, Lere me to som man � my Crede for to lerne, Þat lyueþ in [lel] lijf � and loueþ no synne, And gloseþ nouȝt þe godspell � but halt Godes he[s]tes, And neþer money ne mede � ne may him nouȝt letten But werchen after Godes worde � wiþ-outen any faile. A prechour y-professed � haþ pliȝt me his trewþe To techen me trewlie ; � but woldest þou me tellen For þei ben certayne men � & syker on to trosten, Y wolde quyten þe þi mede � as my miȝte were." " A TREFLE quaþ he " trewlie ! � his treuþ is full litell ! He dyned nouȝt wiþ Domynike � siþe Crist deide ! For wiþ þe princes of pride � þe prechours dwellen ; Þei bene as digne as þe devel � þat droppeþ fro heuene. Wiþ hertes of heynesse � wouȝ halwen þei chirches And deleþ in devynitie � as dogges doþ bones ! Þei medleth wiþ messages � & mariages of grete ; Þey leeuen wiþ lordes � wiþ lesynges y-nowe ; Þey biggeþ hem bichopryches � wiþ bagges of golde ; Þei wilneþ worchipes-- � but waite on her dedes ! Herken at Herdforþe � hou þat þey werchen, And loke whou þat þei lyven � & leeue as þou fyndest. Þey [ben] counseilours of kinges � Crist wot þe soþe, Whou þey [curry] kinges � & her back claweþ ! God lene hem leden well � in lyvinge of heven, And glose hem nouȝt for her good � to greven her soules ! Y pray þe, where ben þei pryue � wiþ any pore wiȝtes, Þat maie not amenden her hous � ne amenden hem- seluen ? Þei prechen in proude harte � & preiseþ her order, And werdliche worchype � wilneþ in erþe. Leeue it well, lef man � & men ryȝt-lokede, Þer is more pryue pride � in prechours hertes Þan þer lefte in Lucyfer � er he were lowe fallen ; Þey ben digne as dich water � þat dogges in bayteþ Loke a ribaut of hem � þat can nouȝt wel reden His rewle ne his respondes � but be pure rote, Als as he were a connynge Clerke � he casteþ þe lawes, Nouȝt lowli but lordly � & leesinges lyeþ. For ryȝt as Menoures � most ypocricie vseþ, Ryȝt so ben Prechers proude � purlyche in herte. But, Cristen creatour � we Karmes first comen Even in Elyes tyme � first of hem all, And lyven by our Lady � & lelly hir seruen In clene comun life � kepen vs out of synne ; Nowt proude as prechours beþ � but prayen full still For all þe soules and þe lyves � þat we by lybbeth. We connen on no queyntyse � (Crist wot þe soþe !) But bysieþ vs in oure bedes � as vs best holdeþ. And þerfore, leue leel man � leeue þat ich sygge, A masse of vs mene men � is of more mede And passeth all praiers � of þies proude freers. And þou wilt ȝyuen vs any good � y would þe here graunten To taken all þy penance � in peril of my soule ; And þouȝ þou conne nouȝt þy crede � clene þe assoile, So þat þou mowe amenden our hous � wiþ money oþer elles, Wiþ som katell oþer corne � or cuppes of siluer." " TREWELY, frere," quaþ y þo � " to tellen þe þe soþe, Þer is no peny in my palke � to payen for my mete ; I haue no good ne no gold � but go þus abouten, Lines 401 through 500 And travaile full trewlye � to wynnen withe my fode. But woldest þou for godes loue � lerne me my Crede, Y schuld don for þy will � whan I wele hadde." " Trewlie," quaþ þe frere � " a fol y þe holde ! Þou woldest not weten þy fote � & woldest fich kacchen ! Our pardon & oure preiers � so beþ þey nouÞt parted, Oure power lasteþ nouȝt so feer � but we some peny fongen. Fare well," quaþ þe frere � " for y mot heþen fonden, And hyen to an houswife � þat haþ vs bequeþen Ten pounde in hir testament � to tellen þe soþe. Ho draweþ to þe deþe-warde � but ȝet I am in drede Lest ho turne her testament � & þerfore I hyȝe To hauen hir to our hous � and henten ȝif y miȝte An Anuell for myn owen [vse] � to helpen to cloþe." " Godys forbode," quaþ [his] fellawe � " but ho forþ passe Wil ho is in purpose � wiþ vs to departen ; God let her no lenger lyven � for letteres ben manye." ÞANNE turned y me forþe � and talked to my-selue Of þe falshede of þis folk � whou feiþles they [weren]. And as y wente be þe Þaie � wepynge for sorowe, [I] seiȝ a sely man me by � opon þe plow hongen. His cote was of a cloute � þat cary was y-called, His hod was full of holes � & his heer oute, Wiþ his knopped schon � clouted full þykke ; His ton toteden out � as he þe londe treddede, His hosen ouerhongen his hokschynes � on eueriche a side, Al beslombred in fen � as he þe plow folwede ; Twey myteynes, as mete � maad all of cloutes ; Þe fyngers weren for-werd � & ful of fen honged. Þis whit waselede in þe [fen] � almost to þe ancle, Foure roþeren hym by-forn � þat feble were [worþen] ; Men myȝte reken ich a ryb � so reufull þey weren. His wijf walked him wiþ � wiþ a longe gode, In a cutted cote � cutted full heyȝe, Wrapped in a wynwe schete � to weren hire fro weders, Barfote on þe bare ijs � þat þe blod folwede. And at þe londes ende laye � a litell crom-bolle, And þeron lay a litell childe � lapped in cloutes, And tweyne of tweie ȝeres olde � opon a-noþer syde, And alle þey songen o songe � þat sorwe was to heren ; Þey crieden alle o cry � a carefull note. Þe sely man siȝede sore, & seide � " children, beþ stille !" Þis man loked opon me � & leet þe plow stonden, And seyde, " sely man, why syȝest þou so harde ? Ȝif þe lakke lijflode � lene þe ich will Swich good as God haþ sent � go we, leue broþer." Y saide þanne, " naye, sire � my sorwe is wel more ; For y can nouȝt my Crede � y kare well harde ; For y can fynden no man � þat fully byleueþ, To techen me þe heyȝe weie � & þerfore I wepe. For y haue [fonded] þe freers � of þe foure orders, For þere I wende haue wist � but now my wit lakkeþ ; And all my hope was on hem � & myn herte also ; But þei ben fully feiþles � and þe fend sueþ." " A ! broþer," quaþ he þo � " beware of þo foles ! For Crist seyde him-selfe � "of swiche y ȝou warne,' And false profetes in þe feiþ � he fulliche hem calde, " In vestimentis ouium � but onlie wiþ-inne Þei ben wilde wer-wolues � þat wiln þe folk robben' Þe fend founded hem first � þe feiþ to destroie, And by his craft þei comen in � to combren þe chirche, By þe coueiteise of his craft � þe curates to helpen ; But now þey hauen an hold � þey harmen full many. Þei don nouȝt after Domynick � but dreccheþ þe puple, Ne folwen nouȝt Fraunces � but falslyche lybben, And Austynes rewle � þei rekneþ but a fable, But purchaseþ hem pryuylege � of popes at Rome. Þei coueten confessions � to kachen some hire, And sepultures also � some wayten to cacchen ; But oþer cures of Cristen � þei coveten nouȝt to haue, But þere as wynnynge lijþ � he lokeþ none oþer." " Whouȝ schal y nemne þy name � þat neiȝboures þe kalleþ ?" " Peres," quaþ he, " þe pore man � þe plowe-man y hatte." " A ! Peres," quaþ y þo � " y pray þe, þou me telle More of þise tryflers � hou trechurly þei libbeþ ? For ichon of hem haþ told me � a tale of þat oþer, Of her wicked lijf � in werlde þat hy lybbeþ. I trowe þat some wikked wyȝt � wrouȝte þis orders [Þoruȝ] þat gleym of þat gest � þat Golias is y-calde, Oþer ells Satan him-self � sente hem fro hell To cumbren men wiþ her craft � Cristendome to schenden ? " " Dere broþer," quaþ Peres � " þe devell is ful queynte ; To encombren holy Churche � he casteþ ful harde, And fluricheþ his falsnes � opon fele wise, And fer he casteþ to-forn � þe folke to destroye. Of þe kynrede of Caym � he caste þe freres, And founded hem on Farysens � feyned for gode ; But þei wiþ her fals faiþ � michel folk schendeþ, Crist calde hem him-self � kynde ypocrites ; How often he cursed hem � well can y tellen He seide ones him-self � to þat sory puple, " Wo worþe ȝou, wyȝtes � wel lerned of þe lawe !' Eft he seyde to hem-selfe � " wo mote ȝou worþen, Þat þe toumbes of profetes � tildeþ vp heiȝe ! Ȝoure faderes fordeden hem � & to þe deþ hem brouȝte.' Here y touche þis two � twynnen hem I þenke ; Who wilneþ ben wisere of lawe � þan lewde freres, And in multitude of men � ben maysters y-called, And wilneþ worchips of þe werlde � & sitten wiþ heye, And leueþ louynge of God � and lownesse behinde ? Lines 501 through 600 And in beldinge of tombes � þei trauaileþ grete To chargen her chirche-flore � and chaungen it ofte. And þe fader of þe freers � defouled hir soules, þat was þe dygginge devel � þat dreccheþ men ofte. Þe divill by his dotage � dissaueþ þe chirche, And put in þe prechours � y-paynted wiþouten And by his queyntise þey comen in � þe curates to helpen, But þat harmede hem harde � and halp hem full litell ! But Austines ordynaunce � was on a good trewþe, And also Domynikes dedes � weren [deruelich] y-vsed, And Frauncis founded his folke � fulliche on trewþe, Pure parfit prestes � in penaunce to lybben, In loue and in lownesse � & lettinge of pride, Grounded on þe godspell � as God bad him-selue. But now þe glose is so greit � in gladding tales Þat turneþ vp two-folde � vnteyned opon trewþe, Þat þei bene cursed of Crist � y can hem well proue ; Wiþ-outen his blissinge � bare beþ þey in her werkes. For Crist seyde him-selfe � to swiche as him folwede, " Y-blessed mote þei ben � þat mene ben in soule ;" And alle pouere in gost � God him-self blisseþ. Whou fele freers fareþ so � fayn wolde y knowe ! Proue hem in proces � & pynch at her ordre, And deme hem after þat þey don � & dredles, y leue Þei willn wexen pure wroþ � wonderliche sone, And schewen þe a scharp will � in a schort tyme, To wilne wilfully wraþþe � & werche þerafter. Wytnesse on Wycliff � þat warned hem wiþ trewþe ; For he in goodnesse of gost � grayþliche hem warned To wayuen her wik[e]dnesse � & werkes of synne. Whou sone þis sori men � [seweden] his soule, And oueral lollede him � wiþ heretykes werkes ! And so of þe blessinge of God � þei bereþ litel mede. Afterward anoþer � onliche he blissede, Þe meke of þe [myddel-erde] � þouruȝ myȝt of his fader. Fynd foure freres in a flok � þat folweþ þat rewle, Þanne haue y tynt all my tast � touche and assaie ! Lakke hem a litil wiȝt � & here lijf blame, But he lepe vp on heiȝ � in hardynesse of herte, And nemne þe anon nouȝt � & þi name lakke Wiþ proude wordes apert � þat passeth his rule, Boþe wiþ " þou leyest, & þou lext' � in heynesse of sowle, And turne as a tyrant � þat turmenteþ him-selue, A lord were loþere � for to leyne a k[n]aue Þanne swich a beggere � þe beste in a toun ! Loke nowe, leue man � beþ nouȝt þise i-lyke Fully to þe Farisens � in fele of þise poyntes ? Al her brod beldyng � ben belded withe synne, And in worchipe of þe werlde � her wynnynge þei holden ; Þei schapen her chapolories � & streccheþ hem brode, And launceþ heiȝe her hemmes � wiþ babelyng in stretes ; Þei ben y-sewed wiþ whiȝt silk � & semes full queynte, Y-stongen wiþ stiches � þat stareþ as siluer. And but freres ben first y-set � at sopers & at festes, Þei wiln ben wonderly wroþ � ywis, as y trowe ; But þey ben at þe lordes borde � louren þey willeþ, He mot bygynne þat borde � a beggere, (wiþ sorwe ! And first sitten in se � in her synagoges, Þat beþ here heyȝe helle-hous � of Kaymes kynde ! For þouȝ a man in her mynster � a masse wolde heren, His siȝt schal so [be] set � on sundrye werkes, Þe penounes & þe pomels � & poyntes of scheldes Wiþ-drawen his deuocion � & dusken his herte ; I likne it to a lym-ȝerde � to drawen men to hell, And to worchipe of þe fend � to wraþþen þe soules. And also Crist him-selfe seide � to swiche ypocrites, " He loueþ in markettes ben met � wiþ gretynges of pouere, And lowynge of lewed men � in Lent[e]nes tyme.' For þei han of bichopes y-bouȝt � wiþ her propre siluer, And purchased of penaunce � þe puple to assoile. But money may maken � mesur of þe peyne, (After þat his power is to payen) � his penance schal faile. (God lene it be a good help � for hele of þe soules ! And also þis myster men � ben maysters icalled, Þat þe gentill Iesus � generallyche blamed, And þat poynt to his apostells � purly defended. But freres hauen forȝetten þis � (and þe fend suweþ, He þat maystri louede � Lucifer þe olde), Wher Fraunceis or Domynik � oþer Austen ordeynide Any of þis dotardes � doctur to worþe, Masters of dyvinitie � her matens to leue, And chereliche as a cheueteyne � his chambre to holden Wiþ chymene & chapell � & chesen whan him liste, And serued as a souereine � & as a lorde sitten. Swiche a gome godes wordes � grysliche gloseþ ; Y trowe, he toucheþ nouȝt þe text � but takeþ it for a tale. God forbad to his folke � & fullyche defended Þey schulden nouȝt stodyen biforn � ne sturen her wittes, But sodenlie þe [same] word � with her mowþ schewe Þat weren ȝeuen hem of God � þoruȝ gost of him-selue. Now mot a frere studyen � & stumblen in tales, And leuen his matynes � & no masse singen, And loken hem lesynges � þat likeþ þe puple, To purchasen him his pursfull � to paye for þe drynke. And broþer, when bernes ben full � & holly tyme passed, Þanne comen cursed freres � & croucheþ full lowe ; A losel, a lymitour � ouer all þe lond lepeþ, And loke, þat he leue non house � þat somwhat he ne lacche ; And þer þei gilen hem-self � & godes worde turneþ. Bagges and beggyng � he bad his folk leuen, Lines 601 through 700 And only seruen him-self � & hijs rewle sechen, And all þat nedly nedeþ � þat schuld hem nouȝt lakken. Whereto beggen þise men � and ben nouȝt so feble ; (Hem faileþ no furrynge � ne cloþes at full), But for a lustfull lijf � in lustes to dwellen ? Wiþ-outen any trauaile � vntrewliche [hy] lybbeth. Hy beþ nouȝt maymed men � ne no mete lakkeþ, Y-cloþed in curious cloþ � & clenliche arayed. It is a laweles lijf � as lordynges vsen, Neyþer ordeyned in ordir � but onlie libbeþ. Crist bad blissen � bodies on erþe Þat wepen for wykkednes � þat he byforne wrouȝte ;-- Þat ben fewe of þo freres � for þei ben ner dede And put all in pur [claþ] � wiþ pottes on her hedes ; Þanne [he] waryeþ & wepeþ � & wicheþ after heuen, And fyeþ on her falshedes � þat þei bifore deden ; And þerfore of þat blissinge � trewlie, as y trowe, Þei may trussen her part � in a terre powȝe ! All þo blissed beþ � þat bodyliche hungreþ ;-- Þat ben þe pore penyles � þat han ouer-passed Þe poynt of her pris lijf � in penaunce of werkes, And mown nouȝt swynken ne sweten � but ben swyþe feble, Oþer maymed at myschef � or meseles syke, And here good is a-gon � & greueþ hem to beggen. Þer is no frer in feiþ � þat fareþ in þis wise ; But he maie beggen his bred � his bed is ygreiþed ; Vnder a pot he schal be put � in a pryvie chambre, Þat he schal lyuen ne last � but litell while after ! Al-miȝti god & man � þe merciable blessed Þat han mercy on men � þat misdon hem here ;-- But whoso for-gabbed a frere � y-founden at þe stues, And brouȝte blod of his bodi � on bak or on side, Hym were as god greuen � a greit lorde of rentes. He schulde sonner bene schryven � (schortlie to tellen Þouȝ he kilde a comlye knyȝt � & compased his morþer, Þanne a buffet to beden � a beggere frere. Þe clene hertes Crist � he curtey[s]liche blissed, Þat [coueten] no katel � but Cristes full blisse, Þat leeueþ fulliche on God � & lellyche þenkeþ On his lore and his lawe � & lyueþ opon trewþe ;-- Freres han forȝeten þis � & folweþ an oþer ; Þat þei may henten, þey holden � by-hirneþ it sone. Heir hertes ben clene y-hid � in her hiȝe cloistre, As kurres from kareyne � þat is cast in dyches ! And parfite Crist � þe pesible blissed, Þat bene suffrant & sobre � & susteyne anger ;-- A-say of her sobernesse � & þou miȝt y-knowen, Þer is no waspe in þis werlde � þat will wilfullok[e]r styngen, For stappyng on a too � of a styncande frere ! For neþer souereyn ne soget � þei ne suffreþ neuer ; All þe blissing of God � beouten þei walken ; For of her suffraunce, for soþe � men seþ but litell ! Alle þat persecution � in pure lijf suffren, Þei han þe benison of god � blissed in erþe ;-- Y praie, parceyue now � þe pursut of a frere, In what measure of meknesse � þise men deleþ. Byhold opon Wat Brut � whou bisiliche þei pursueden For he seyde hem þe soþe � & ȝet, syre, ferþere, Hy may no more marren [hym] � but men telleþ Þat he is an heretike � and yuele byleueþ, And prechiþ it in pulpit � to blenden þe puple ; Þei wolden awyrien þat wiȝt � for his well dedes ; And so þei chewen charitie � as chewen schaf houndes. And þei pursueþ þe pouere � & passeþ pursutes, Boþe þey wiln & þei wolden � y-worþen so grete To passen any mans miȝt � to morþeren þe soules ; First to brenne þe bodye � in a bale of fijr, And syþen þe sely soule slen � & senden hyre to helle ! And Crist clerlie forbadde � his Cristene, & defended Þei schulden nouȝt after þe face � neuer þe folke demen ; "-- " Sur " y seide my-self � " þou semest to blamen. Why dispisest þou þus � þise sely pore freres None oþer men so mychel � monkes ne preistes, Chanons ne Charthous � þat in chirche serueth ? It semeþ þat þise sely men � han somwhat þe greved Oþer wiþ word or wiþ werke � & þerfore þou wilnest To schenden oþer [schamen] hem � wiþ þi sharpe speche, And harmen holliche � & her hous greuen ?" " I praie þe " quaþ Peres � " put þat out of þy mynde ; Certen for sowle hele � y saie þe þis wordes. Y preise nouȝt possessioners � but pur lytel ; For falshed of freres � haþ fulliche encombred Manye of þis maner men � & maid hem to leuen Here charite & chastete � & [chesen] hem to lustes, And waxen to werldly � and wayuen þe trewþe, And leuen þe loue of her God � and þe werlde seruen. But for falshed of freres � y fele in my soule, (Seynge þe synfull lijf) � þat sorweþ myn herte How þei ben cloþed in cloþ � þat clennest scheweþ ; For aungells & Arcangells � all þei whijt vseþ, And alle Aldermen � þat bene ante tronum. Þise tokens hauen freres taken � but y trowe þat a fewe Folwen fully þat cloþ � but falsliche þat vseþ. For whijt in trowþe bytokneþ � clennes in soule ; Ȝif he haue vnder-neþen whijt � þanne he aboue wereþ, Blak, þat bytokneþ � bale for oure synne, And mournynge for misdede � of hem þat þis vseþ, And serwe for synfull lijf ; � so þat cloþ askeþ. Y trowe þer ben nouȝt ten freres � þat for synne wepen, For þat lijf is here lust � & þereyn þei libben Lines 701 through 794 In fraitour & in fermori � her fostringe is synne ; It is her mete at iche a mel � her most sustenaunce. Herkne opon Hyldegare � hou homliche he telleþ How her sustenaunce is synne ; � & syker, as y trowe, Weren her confessiones � clenli destrued, Hy schulde nouȝt beren hem so bragg � ne [belden] so heyȝe, (For þe fallynge of synne � socoureþ þo foles) ; And bigileþ þe grete � wiþ glauerynge wordes, Wiþ glosinge of godspells � þei gods worde turneþ, And pasen all þe pryuylege � þat Petur after vsed. Þe power of þe Apostells � þei pasen in speche, For to sellen þe synnes � for siluer oþer mede, And purlyche a pena � þe puple assoileþ, And a culpa also � þat þey may kachen Money oþer money-worthe � & mede to fonge, And bene at lone & at bode � as burgeses vsithe. Þus þey seruen Satanas � & soules bygileþ, Marchantes of malisons � mansede wreches ! Þei vsen russet also � somme of þis freres, Þat bitokneþ trauaile � & trewþe opon erþe ;-- Bote loke whou þis lorels � labouren þe erþe, But freten þe frute þat þe folk � full lellich biswynkeþ ; Wiþ trauail of trewe men � þei tymbren her houses, And of þe curious cloþe � her copes þei biggen ; And [als] his getynge is greet � he schal ben good holden, And ryȝt as dranes doþ nouȝt � but drynkeþ vp þe huny, Whan been wiþe her bysynesse � han brouȝt it to hepe, Riȝt so, fareþ freres � wiþ folke opon erþe ; Þey freten vp þe fu[r]ste-froyt � & falsliche lybbeþ. But alle freres eten nouȝt � y-lich good mete, But after þat his wynnynge is � is his well-fare ; And after þat he bringeþ home � his bed schal ben grayþed ; And after þat his rychesse is rauȝt � he schal ben redy serued. But see þi-self in þi siȝt � whou somme of hem walkeþ Wiþ cloutede schon � & cloþes ful feble, Wel neiȝ for-werd � & þe wlon offe ; And his felawe in a froke � worþ swiche fiftene, A-rayd in rede sc[h]on � (& elles were reuþe ! And sexe copes or seven � in his celle hongeþ. Þouȝ for fayling of good � his fellawe schulde sterue, He wolde nouȝt lenen him a peny � his lijf for to holden. Y miȝt tymen þo troiflardes � to toilen wiþ þe erþe, Tylyen & trewliche lyven � & her flech tempren ! Now mot ich soutere his sone � setten to schole, And ich a beggers brol � on þe booke lerne, And worþ to a writere � & wiþ a lorde dwell, Oþer falsly to a frere � þe fend for to seruen ! So of þat beggers brol � a bychop schal worþen, Among þe peres of þe lond � prese to sitten, And lordes sones lowly � to þo losells aloute, Knyȝtes croukeþ hem to � & crucheþ full lowe ; And his syre a soutere � y-suled in grees, His teeþ wiþ toylinge of leþer � tatered as a sawe ! Alaas ! þat lordes of þe londe � leueþ swiche wrechen, And leneþ swiche lorels � for her lowe wordes ! Þey schulden maken bichopes � her owen breþren childre, Oþer of some gentil blod � & so it best semed, And foster none faytoures � ne swiche false freres To maken fatt & full � & her fleche combren ! For her kynde were more � to y-clense diches Þan ben to sopers y-set first � and serued wiþ siluer ! A great bolle-full of benen � were betere in his wombe, And wiþ þe randes of bakun � his baly for to fillen, Þan pertriches or plouers � or pekokes y-rosted, And comeren her stomakes � wiþ curious drynkes, Þat makeþ swiche harlottes � hordome vsen, And wiþ her wicked worde � wymmen bitraieþ ! God wold her wonynge � were in wildernesse, And fals freres forboden � þe fayre ladis chaumbres ! For knewe lordes her craft � trewlie, y trowe, Þey schulden nouȝt haunten her hous � so homly on niȝtes, Ne bedden swiche broþels � in so brode schetes, But scheten her heued in þe stre � to scharpen her wittes ; Ne ben kynges confessours of custom � ne þe counsell of þe rewme knowe ! For Fraunces founded hem nouȝt � to faren on þat wise, Ne Domynik dued hera neuer � swiche drynkers to worþe, Ne Helye ne Austen � swiche lijf neuer vsed, But in pouerte of spirit � spended her tyme. We haue sene our-self � in a schort tyme, Whou freres wolden no flech � among þe folke vsen ; But now þe harlottes � han hid thilke rewle, And, for þe loue of oure lorde � haue leyd hire in water. Wenest þou þer wold so fele � swiche warlawes worþen, Ne were wordlyche wele � & her welfare ? Þei schulden deluen & diggen � & dongen þe erþe, And mene-mong corn bred � to her mete fongen, And wortes flechles wroughte � & water to drinken, And werchen & wolward gon � as we wrecches vsen ; An aunter ȝif þer wolde on � amonge an hol hundred Lyuen so for godes loue � in tyme of a wynter !" " Leue Peres" quaþ y þo � " y praie þat þou me tell Whou y maie conne my Crede � in Cristen beleue ?" " Leue broþer," quaþ he � " hold þat y segge, I will techen þe þe trewþe � & tellen þe þe soþe." CREDO. LEUE þou on oure Louerd God � þat all þe werlde wrouȝte, Holy heuen opon hey � hollyche he fourmede, And is almiȝti him-self � ouer all his werkes, And wrouȝt as his will was � þe we[r]lde and þe heuen ; And on gentyl Jesu Crist � engendred of him-seluen, His own onlyche sonne � Lord ouer all y-knowen, [Þat] was clenly conseued � clerlye, in trewþe, Of þe hey Holy Gost � þis is þe holy beleue ; And of þe mayden Marye � man was he born, Wiþ-outen synnfull sede � þis is fully þe beleue ; Wiþ þorn y--crouned, crucified � & on þe crois dyede, And syþen his blessed body � was in a ston byried, And descended a-doune � to þe derk helle, And fet oute our formfaderes � & hy full feyn weren ; Þe þridde daye rediliche � him-self ros fram deeþ, And on a ston þere he stod � he steiȝ vp to heuene, And on his fader riȝt hand � redeliche he sitteþ, Þat al-miȝti god � ouer all oþer whyȝtes ; And is hereafter to komen � Crist, all him-seluen, To demen þe quyke and þe dede � wiþ-outen any doute ; And in þe heiȝe holly gost � holly y beleue, And generall holy chirche also � hold þis in þy mynde ; [The communion of sayntes � for soth I to the sayn ; And for our great sinnes � forgiuenes for to getten, And only by Christ � clenlich to be clensed ; Our bodies again to risen � right as we been here, And the liif euerlasting � leue ich to habben ; Amen.] And in þe [sacrement] also � þat soþfast God on is, (Fullich his fleche & his blod) � þat for vs deþe þolede.-- And þouȝ þis flaterynge freres � wyln for her pride, Disputen of þis deyte � as dotardes schulden, Þe more þe matere is moved � þe [masedere hy] worþen. Lat þe losels alone � & leue þou þe trewþe, For Crist seyde it is so � so mot it nede worþe ; Þerfore studye þou nouȝt þeron � ne stere þi wittes, It is his blissed body � so bad he vs beleuen. Þise maystres of dyvinitie � many, als y trowe, Folwen nouȝt fully þe feiþ � as fele of þe lewede. Whouȝ may mannes wijt � þoruȝ werk [of] him-selue, Knowen Cristes pryuitie � þat all kynde passeþ ? It mot ben a man � of also mek an herte, Þat myȝte wiþ his good lijf � þat Holly Gost fongen ; And þanne nedeþ him nouȝt � neuer for to studyen ; He miȝte no maistre [ben] kald � (for Crist þat defended), Ne puten [no] pylion � on his pild pate ; But prechen in parfite lijf � & no pride vsen. But all þat euer I haue seyd � soþ it me semeþ, And all þat euer I haue writen � is soþ, as I trowe, And for amending of þise men is most þat I write ; God wold hy wolden ben war � & werchen þe better ! But, for y am a lewed man � paraunter y miȝte Passen par auenture � & in som poynt erren, GOD AMEND ALL FALSE FRIARS ! Y will nouȝt þis matere � maistrely auowen ; But ȝif ich haue myssaid � mercy ich aske, & praie all maner men � þis matere amende, Iche a word by him-self � & all, ȝif it nedeþ. God of his grete myȝte � & his good grace Saue all freres � þat faiþfully lybben, And alle þo þat ben fals � fayre hem amende, And ȝyue hem wijt & good will � swiche dedes to werche Þat þei maie wynnen þe lif � þat euer schal lesten !AMEN.