Coveitise-of-eighes

Conforted me anoon after, And folwed me fourty wynter And a fifte moore, That of Do-wel ne Do-bet Ne deyntee me thoughte. I hadde no likyng, leve me if thee list, Of hem ought to knowe. Coveitise-of-eighes Com ofter in mynde Than Do-wel or Do-bet, Among my dedes alle.

Coveitise-of-eighes Conforted me ofte, And seide, "Have no conscience How thow come to goode. Go confesse thee to som frere, And shewe hym thi synnes; For whiles Fortune is thi frend Freres wol thee lovye, And fecche thee to hir fraternitee, And for the biseke To hir priour provincial A pardon for to have, And preien for thee pol by pol, If thow be pecuniosus." Sed poena pecuniaria non sufficit pro spiritualibus delictis.

By wissynge of this wenche I wroughte, Hir wordes were so swete, Til I for-yat youthe, And yarn into elde.

And thanne was Fortune my foo, For al hir faire speche;

And poverte pursued me, And putte me lowe.

And tho fond I the frere a-fered, And flittynge bothe Ayeins oure firste for-warde; For I seide I nolde Be buried at hire hous, But at my parisshe chirche. For I herde ones How Conscience it tolde, That there a man were cristned Be kynde he sholde be buryed; Or where he were parisshen, Right there he sholde be graven. And for I seide thus to freres, A fool thei me helden, And loved me the lasse For my lele speche.

Ac yet I cryde on my confessour, That heeld hymself so konnyng; "By my feith! frere," quod I, "Ye faren lik thise woweris That wedde none widwes But for to welden hir goodes. Right so, by the roode! Roughte ye nevere Where my body were buryed, By so ye hadde my silver.

"Ich have muche merveille of yow, And so hath many another, Whi youre covent coveiteth To confesse and to burye, Rather than to baptize barnes That ben catecumelynges.

Baptizynge and buryinge Bothe beth ful nedefulle; Ac muche moore meritorie, Me thynketh it is to baptize. For a baptized man may, As thise maistres telleth, Thorugh contricion come To the heighe hevene. Sola contritio, etc. Ac barn withouten bapteme May noght so be saved. Nisi quis renatus fuerit. Loke ye, lettred men, Wheither I lye or do noght." And Lewté loked on me, And I loured after.

"Wherfore lourestow?" quod Lewtee, And loked on me harde.

"If I dorste," quod I, "amonges men This metels avowe!"

"Yis, by Peter and by Poul!" quod he, And took hem bothe to witnesse. "Non oderis fratres secrete in corde tuo, sed publice argue illos."

"They wole aleggen also," quod I, "And by the Gospel preven: Nolite judicare quemquam."

"And wherof serveth lawe?" quod Lewtee, "If no lif undertoke it, Falsnesse ne faiterie, For som what the apostle seide, Non oderis fratrem.

And in the Sauter also Seith David the prophete, Existimasti inique quod ero tui similis, etc. =

"It is licitum for lewed men To sigge the sothe, If hem liketh and lest, Ech a lawe it graunteth; Excepte persons and preestes, And prelates of holy chirche, It falleth noght for that folk No tales to telle, Though the tale be trewe, And it touche synne.

"Thyng that al the world woot, Wherfore sholdestow spare To reden it in retorik To a-rate dedly synne? Ac be nevere moore the firste Defaute to blame; Though thow se yvel, seye it noght first, Be sory it nere amended. No thyng that is pryvé, Publice thow it nevere; Neither for love preise it noght, Ne lakke it for envye. Parum lauda, vitupera parcius."

"He seith sooth," quod Scripture tho, And skipte an heigh, and preched. Ac the matere that she meved, If lewed men it knewe, The lasse, as I leve, Lovyen it thei wolde.

This was hir teme and hir text, I took ful good hede; Multi to a mangerie And to the mete were sompned; And whan the peple was plener comen, The porter unpynned the yate, And plukked in Pauci pryveliche, And leet the remenaunt go rome.

Al for tene of hir text Trembled myn herte; And in a weer gan I wexe, And with myself to dispute Wheither I were chosen or noght chosen. On holi chirche I thoughte, That under-fonged me atte font For oon of Goddes chosene. For Crist cleped us alle, Come if we wolde, Sarzens and scismatikes, And so he dide the Jewes. O vos omnes sitientes, venite, etc. And bad hem souke for synne Safly at his breste, And drynke boote for bale, Brouke it who so myghte.

"Thanne may alle cristene come, quod I," = "And cleyme there entree By the blood that he boughte us with And thorugh bapteme after. Qui crediderit et baptizatus fuerit, etc. =

For though a cristen man coveited His cristendom to reneye, Rightfully to reneye No reson it wolde.

"For may no cherl chartre make, Ne his catel selle, Withouten leve of his lord; No lawe wol it graunte. Ac he may renne in arerage, And rome so fro home, And as a reneyed caytif Recchelesly rennen aboute. And Reson shal rekene with hym, And casten hym in arerage, And putten hym after in a prison In purgatorie to brenne, For hise arerages rewarden hym there To the day of dome; But if Contricion wol come, And crye, by his lyve, Mercy for hise mysdedes, With mouthe and with herte,"

"That is sooth," seide Scripture; "May no synne lette Mercy al to amende, And mekenesse hir folwe. For thei beth, as oure bokes telleth, Above Goddes werkes." Misericordia ejus super omnia opera ejus. =

"Ye, baw for bokes," quod oon Was broken out of helle, Highte Trojanus, hadde ben a trewe knyght, Took witnesse at a pope,

How he was ded and dampned To dwellen in pyne, For an uncristene creature; "Clerkes wite the sothe, That al the clergie under Crist Ne myghte me cracche fro helle, But oonliche love and leautee, And my laweful domes.

"Gregorie wiste this wel, And wilned to my soule Savacion for soothnesse That he seigh in my werkes; And after that he wepte, And wilned me were graunted Grace; withouten any bene biddyng His boone was under-fongen, And I saved, as ye see, Withouten syngynge of masses. By love and by lernyng Of my lyvynge, in truthe, Broughte me fro bitter peyne Ther no biddyng myghte."

Lo! ye lordes, what leautee dide By an emperour of Rome, That was an uncristene creature, As clerkes fyndeth in bokes. Nought thorugh preiere of a pope, But for his pure truthe, Was that Sarsen saved. As seint Gregorie bereth witnesse.

Wel oughte ye, lordes, that lawes kepe, This lesson to have in mynde, And on Trojanus truthe to thenke,

And do truthe to the peple. "Lawe, withouten love," quod Trojanus, "Ley ther a bene, Or any science under sonne, The sevene artz and alle, But thei ben lerned for oure Lordes love, Lost is al the tyme;" For no cause to cacche silver therby, Ne to be called a maister, But al for love of oure Lord, And the bet to love the peple, For seint Johan seide it, And sothe arn hise wordes. Qui non diligit, manet in morte.

Who so loveth noght, leve me, He lyveth in deep deyinge; And that alle manere men, Enemyes and frendes, Love hir eyther oother, And leve hem, as hemselve, Who so leveth noght, he loveth noght, God woot the sothe! Crist comaundeth ech a creature To conformen hym to lovye, And sovereynly the povere peple, And hir enemyes after. For hem that haten us Is oure merite to lovye, And povere peple to plese, Hir preieres maye us helpe. And oure joye and oure heele Jhesu Crist of hevene In a povere mannes apparaille Pursued us evere;

And loketh on us in hir liknesse, And that with lovely chere, To knowen us by oure kynde herte And castynge of oure eighen, Wheither we love the lordes here Bifore the Lord of blisse; And exciteth us by the Euvangelie That whan we maken festes, We sholde noght clepe oure kyn therto, Ne none kynnes riche. Cum facitis convivia, nolite invitare amicos. = "Ac calleth the carefulle therto, The croked and the povere. For youre frendes wol feden yow, And fonde yow to quyte Youre festynge and youre faire gifte; Ech frend quyteth so oother.

"Ac for the povere I shal paie, And pure wel quyte hir travaille, That gyveth hem mete or moneie, Or loveth hem for my sake." For the beste ben som riche, And some beggeres and povere. For alle are we Cristes creatures, And of his cofres riche, And bretheren as of oo blood, As wel beggeres as erles. For on Calvarie of Cristes blood Cristendom gan sprynge, And blody bretheren we bicomen there Of o body y-wonne, As quasi modo geniti, And gentil-men echone;

No beggere ne boye amonges us, But if it synne made. Qui facit peccatum, servus est peccati.

"In the olde lawe, As holy lettre telleth, Mennes sones Men callen us echone, Of Adames issue and Eve, Ay til God man deide; And after his resurexcion Redemptor was his name, And we hise bretheren thorugh hym y-brought, Bothe riche and povere.

"For-thi love we as leve bretheren, And ech man laughe of oother; And of that ech man may forbere Amende there it nedeth; And every man helpe oother, For hennes shul we alle. Alter alterius onera portate.

"And be we noght un-kynde of oure catel, = Ne of oure konnyng neither. For woot no man how neigh it is To ben y-nome fro bothe. For-thi lakke no lif oother, Though he moore Latyn knowe; Ne under-nyme noght foule; For is noon withoute defaute. For what evere clerkes carpe Of cristendom or ellis, Crist to a commune womman seide, In commune at a feste,

That fides sua sholde saven hire, And salven hire of synnes.

"Thanne is bileve a lele help, Above logyk or lawe. Of logyk or of lawe In Legenda Sanctorum Is litel alowaunce maad, But if bileve hem helpe. For it is over longe er logyk Any lesson assoille; And lawe is looth to lovye, But if he lacche silver. Bothe logyk and lawe, That loveth noght to lye, I conseille alle cristene Clyve noght theron to soore; For some wordes I fynde writen, That were of feithes techyng, That saved synful men, As seint Johan bereth witnesse. Eadem mensura qua mensi fueritis, remetietur vobis.

"For-thi lerne we the lawe of love, As oure Lord taughte, And as seint Gregorie seide For mannes soule helthe: Melius est scrutari scelera nostra, quam naturas rerum.

"Why I meve this matere, Is moost for the povere; For in hir liknesse oure Lord Ofte hath ben y-knowe. Witnesse in the Pask wyke Whan he yede to Emaüs;

Cleophas ne knew hym noght That he Crist were, For his povere apparaille, And pilgrymes wedes, Til he blessede and brak The breed that thei eten; So bi hise werkes thei wisten That he was Jhesus, Ac by clothyng thei knewe hym noght, Ne by carpynge of tunge. And al was in ensample To us synfulle here, That we sholde be lowe And loveliche of speche, And apparaille us noght over proudly, For pilgrymes are we alle.

"And in the apparaille of a povere man, And pilgrymes liknesse, Many tyme God hath ben met Among nedy peple, Ther nevere segge hym seigh In secte of the riche.

"Seint Johan and othere seintes Were seyen in poore clothyng, And as povere pilgrymes Preyed mennes goodes.

"Jhesu Crist on a Jewes doghter lighte, Gentil womman though she were, Was a pure povere maide, And to a povere man y-wedded.

"Martha on Marie Maudeleyne An huge pleynt made, And to oure Saveour self Seide thise wordes:

Domine, non est tibi curæ quod soror mea reliquit me solam ministrare.

"And hastily God answerde, And eitheres wille folwed, Bothe Marthaes and Maries, As Mathew bereth witnesse; Ac poverte God putte bifore, And preised that the bettre. Maria optimam partem elegit, quæ non, etc. =

"And alle the wise that evere were, By aught I kan aspye, Preiseden poverte for best lif, If pacience it folwed, And bothe bettre and blesseder By many fold than richesse. For though it be sour to suffre, Therafter cometh swete; As on a walnote withoute Is a bitter barke, And after that bitter bark, Be the shelle aweye, Is a kernel of confort Kynde to restore.

"So is after poverte or penaunce Paciently y-take; For it maketh a man to have mynde In God, and a gret wille To wepe and to wel bidde, Wherof wexeth mercy, Of which Crist is a kernelle To conforte the soule. And wel sikerer he slepeth,

The man that is povere, And lasse he dredeth deeth, And in derke to ben y-robbed, Than he that is right riche, Reson bereth witnesse. Pauper ego ludo, dum tu dives meditaris. =

"Al though Salomon seide, As folk seeth in the Bible, Divitias nec paupertates, etc. Wiser than Salomon was Bereth witnesse and taughte That parfit poverte was No possession to have, And lif moost likynge to God, As Luc bereth witnesse: Si vis perfectus esse, vade et vende.

"And is to mene to men That on this moolde lyven, Who so wole be pure parfit Moot possession forsake, Or selle it, as seith the Book, And the silver dele To beggeris that goon and begge And bidden good for Goddes love. For failed nevere man mete That myghtful God serveth, As David seith in the Sauter To swiche that ben in wille To serve God goodliche, Ne greveth hym no penaunce: Nihil inpossibile volenti. Ne lakketh nevere liflode, Lynnen ne wollen.

Inquirentes autem Dominum non minuentur omni bono.

"If preestes weren parifite, Thei wolde ne silver take For masses ne for matyns, Noght hir mete of usureres, Ne neither kirtel ne cote, Theigh thei for cold sholde deye, And thei hir devoir dide, As David seith in the Sauter: Judica me, Deus, et decerne causam meam. =

"Spera-in-Deo speketh of preestes That have no spendyng silver, That if thei travaille truweliche And truste in God almyghty, Hem sholde lakke no liflode, Neyther lynnen ne wollen. And the title that ye take ordres by Telleth ye ben avaunced; Thanne nedeth yow noght to take silver For masses that ye syngen. For he that took yow youre title, Sholde take yow youre wages, Or the bisshop that blessed yow, If that ye ben worthi.

"For made nevere kyng no knyght, But he hadde catel to spende As bifel for a knyght, Or foond hym for his strengthe. It is a careful knyght, And of a caytif kynges makyng, That hath no lond ne lynage riche, Ne good loos of hise handes.

"The same I segge, for sothe, By alle swiche preestes That han neither konnynge ne kyn, But a crowne one, And a title, a tale of noght, To his liflode at his meschief. He hath moore bileve, as I leve, To lacche through his croune Cure, than for konnyng, Or knowen for clene berynge. I have wonder for why And wherefore the bisshope Maketh swiche preestes, That lewed men bitrayen.

"A chartre is chalangeable Bifore a chief justice; If fals Latyn be in the lettre, The lawe it impugneth, Or peynted parentrelynarie, Or percelles over-skipped; The gome that gloseth so chartres For a goky is holden.

"So is it a goky, by God! That in his gospel failleth, Or in masse or in matyns Maketh any defaut. Qui offendit in uno, in omnibus est reus. =

"And also in the Sauter Seith David to over-skipperis, Psallite Deo nostro, psallite, quoniam rex terræ Deus Israel, psallite sapienter.

"The bisshop shal be blamed

Bifore God, as I leve, That crouneth swiche Goddes knyghtes That konneth noght sapienter Synge, ne psalmes rede, Ne seye a masse of the day. And never neither is blame-lees The bisshope ne the chapeleyn; For hir either is endited, And that is, ignorantia Non excusat episcopos Nec idiotes preestes.

"This lokynge on lewed preestes Hath doon me lepe from poverte, The which I preise ther pacience is Moore perfit than richesse."

Ac muche moore in metynge thus With me gan oon dispute; And slepynge I seigh al this. And sithen cam Kynde, And nempned me by my name, And bad me nymen hede, And thorugh the wondres of this world Wit for to take. And on a mountaigne that myddel-erthe Highte, as me thoughte, I was fet forth By ensamples to knowe Thorugh ech a creature and kynde My creatour to lovye.

I seigh the sonne and the see, And the sond after; And where that briddes and beestes

By hir makes yeden; Wilde wormes in wodes, And wonderful foweles With fleckede fetheres And of fele colours.

Man and his make I myghte bothe biholde; Poverte and plentee; Bothe pees and werre; Blisse and bale bothe I seigh al at ones; And how men token mede, And mercy refused.

Reson I seigh soothly Sewen alle beestes, In etynge, in drynkynge, And in engendrynge of kynde; And after cours of concepcion, Noon took kepe of oother As whan thei hadde ryde in rotey tyme, Anoon right therafter Males drowen hem to males A-morwenynges by hemselve, And in evenynges also The males ben fro femelles. Ther ne was cow ne cow-kynde That conceyved hadde, That wolde belwe after boles, Ne boor after sowe; Bothe hors and houndes, And alle othere beestes, Medled noght with hir makes That with fole were.

Briddes I biheld

That in buskes made nestes, Hadde nevere wye wit To werche the leeste. I hadde wonder at whom And wher the pye lerned To legge the stikkes In whiche she leyeth and bredeth. Ther nys wrighte, as I wene, Sholde werche hir nestes to paye; If any mason made a molde therto, Muche wonder it were.

Ac yet me merveilled moore, How many othere briddes Hidden and hileden Hir egges ful derne In mareys and moores, For men sholde hem noght fynde; And hidden hir egges, Whan thei therfro wente, For fere of othere foweles, And for wilde beestes.

And some troden hir makes, And on trees bredden, And broughten forth hir briddes so Al above the grounde; And some briddes at the bile Thorugh brethyng conceyved; And some caukede; and took kepe How pecokkes bredden. Muche merveilled me What maister hem made, And who taughte hem on trees To tymbre so heighe, Ther neither burn ne beest

May hir briddes rechen.

And sithen I loked upon the see, And so forth upon the sterres; Manye selkouthes I seigh, Ben noght to seye nouthe.

I seigh floures in the fryth, And hir faire colours; And how among the grene gras Growed so manye hewes, And some soure and some swete, Selkouth me thoughte; Of hir kynde and hir colour To carpe it were to longe.

Ac that moost meved me And my mood chaunged, That Reson rewarded And ruled alle beestes, Save man and his make; Many tyme and ofte No reson hem folwede. And thanne I rebukede Reson, and right Til hymselven I seyde: "I have wonder of thee," quod I, "That witty art holden, Why thow ne sewest man and his make, That no mysfeet hem folwe."

And Reson a-rated me, And seide, "Recche thee nevere; Why I suffre or noght suffre, Thiself hast noght to doone. Amende thow it, if thow myght, For my tyme is to abide. Suffraunce is a soverayn vertue,

And a swift vengeance. Who suffrede moore than God?" quod he; "No gome, as I leeve. He myghte amende in a minute while Al that mys-standeth; Ac he suffreth for som mannes goode, And so it is oure bettre, The wise and the witty Wroot thus in the Bible: De re quæ te non molestat, noli certare.

"For be a man fair or foul, = It falleth noght for to lakke The shap ne the shaft That God shoop hymselve; For al that he dide was wel y-do, As holy writ witnesseth: Et vidit Deus cuncta quæ fecerat, et erant valde bona.

"And bad every creature In his kynde encreesse; Al to murthe with man, That moste wo tholie In fondynge of the flessh, And of the fend bothe. For man was maad of swich a matere, He may noght wel a-sterte That ne som tyme hym bitit To folwen his kynde. Caton a-cordeth therwith, Nemo sine crimine vivit."

Tho caughte I colour anoon, And comsed to ben ashamed, And awaked therwith.

Wo was me thanne, That I in metels ne myghte Moore have y-knowen. And thanne seide I to myself, And chidde that tyme, "Now I woot what Do-wel is," quod I, "By deere God! as me thynketh."

And as I caste up myne eighen, Oon loked on me and asked Of me, what thynge it were: "Y-wis, sire," I seide, "To se muche and suffre moore, Certes," quod I, "is Do-wel."

"Haddestow suffred," he seide, "Slepynge tho thow were, Thow sholdest have knowen that Clergie kan, And contreved moore thorugh reson. For Reson wolde have reherced thee Right as Clergie seide. Ac for thyn entre-metynge, Here artow forsake. Philosophus esses, si tacuisses.

"Adam, whiles he spak noght, Hadde paradis at wille; Ac whan he mamelede aboute mete, And entre-metede to knowe The wisedom and the wit of God, He was put fram blisse.

"And right so ferde Reson bi thee; Thow with thi rude speche Lakkedest and losedest thyng That longed the noght to doone. Tho hadde he no likyng For to lere the moore.

"Pryde now and presumpcion Peraventure wol thee appele, That Clergie thi compaignye Kepeth noght to suwe. Shal nevere chalangynge ne chidynge Chaste a man so soone, As shal shame, and shenden hym, And shape hym to amende. For lat a dronken daffe In a dyk falle, Lat hym ligge, loke noght on hym, Til hym liste aryse. For though Reson rebuked hym thanne, It were but pure synne. Ac whan nede nymeth hym up For doute lest he sterve, And shame shrapeth hise clothes, And hise shynes wassheth. Thanne woot the dronken daffe Wherfore he is to blame."

"Ye siggen sooth," quod I; "Ich have y-seyen it ofte, Ther smyt no thyng so smerte, Ne smelleth so soure, As shame, there he sheweth hym; For every man hym shonyeth. Why ye wisse me thus," quod I, "Was for I rebuked Reson."

"Certes," quod he, "that is sooth;" And shoop hym for to walken. And I aroos up right with that, And folwed hym after, And preyde hym of his curteisie To telle me his name.