Passus Decimus Sextus, etc. et Primus de Do-bet

"Now faire falle yow," quod I tho, 10794 "For youre faire shewyng; For Haukyns love, the actif man, Evere I shal yow lovye! Ac yit I am in a weer What charité is to mene."

"It is a ful trie tree," quod he, 10800 "Trewely to telle; Mercy is the more therof, The myddul stok is ruthe; The leves ben lele wordes, The lawe of holy chirche; The blosmes beth buxom speche, And benigne lokynge; Pacience hatte the pure tree, And pure symple of herte; And so, thorugh God and thorugh goode men, 10810 Groweth the fruyt charité."

"I wolde travaille," quod I, "this tree to se, Twenty hundred myle; And for to have my fulle of that fruyt,

Forsake alle othere saulees. Lord!" quod I, "if any wight wite Whider out it groweth."

"It groweth in a gardyn," quod he, "That God made hymselve, Amyddes mannes body, 10820 The more is of that stokke, Herte highte the herber That it inne groweth. And liberum arbitrium Hath the lond the ferme Under Piers the Plowman, To piken it and to weden it."

"Piers the Plowman!" quod I tho, And al for pure joye That I herde nempne his name, 10830 Anoon I swowned after, And lay longe in a lone dreem; And at the laste, me thoughte That Piers the Plowman Al the place me shewed, And bad me to toten on the tree, On top and on roote; With thre piles was it under-pight, I perceyved it soone.

"Piers," quod I, "I preie thee, 10840 Whi stonde thise piles here?"

"For wyndes, wiltow wite," quod he, To witen it fro fallyng. Cum ceciderit justus, non collidetur, quia Dominus supponit manum suam. And in blowyng tyme, abite the flowres, But if thise piles helpe,

"The world is a wikked wynd To hem that willen truthe; 10850 Coveitise comth of that wynd, And crepeth among the leves, And for-freteth neigh the fruyt Thorugh manye faire sightes; Thanne with the firste pil I palle hym down, That is Potentia Dei.

"The flessh is a fel wynd, And in flouryng tyme Thorugh likynge and lustes So loude he gynneth blowe, 10860 That it norisseth nyce sightes, And som tyme wordes, And wikkede werkes therof, Wormes of synne, And for-biteth the blosmes Right to the bare leves.

"Than sette I to the secounde pil Sapientia Dei patris; That is the passion and the power Of oure prince Jhesu. 10870 Thorugh preieres and thorugh penaunces, And Goddes passion in mynde, I save it til I se it ripen And som del y-fruyted.

"And thanne fondeth the fend My fruyt to destruye, With alle the wiles that he kan; And waggeth the roote, And casteth up to the crop Unkynde neighebores; 10880 Bakbiteris breke the cheste, Brawleris and chideris,

And leith a laddre therto, Of lesynges are the ronges, And feccheth awey my floures som tyme Afore bothe myne eighen. Ac liberum arbitrium Letteth hym som tyme, That is lieutenaunt to loken it wel, Bi leve of myselve. 10890 Videatis qui peccat in spiritum sanctum nunquam remittetur, etc. Hoc est idem, qui peccat per liberum arbitrium non repurgatur.

"Ac whan the fend and the flessh Forth with the world Manacen bihynde me My fruyt for to fecche, Thanne liberum arbitrium 10900 Laccheth the firste plante, And palleth adoun the pouke, Pureliche thorugh grace And help of the Holy Goost, And thus have I the maistrie."

"Now faire falle yow! Piers," quod I, "So faire ye discryven The power of thise postes, And hire propre myghtes. Ac I have thoughtes a threve 10910 Of thise thre piles, In what wode thei woxen, And where that thei growed; For alle are thei aliche longe, Noon lasse than oother, And to my mynde, as me thinketh,

On o more thei growed, And of o greetnesse, And grene of greyn thei semen."

"That is sooth," quod Piers, 10920 "So it may bifalle; I shal telle thee as tid What this tree highte. The ground there it groweth, Goodnesse it hatte; And I have told thee what highte the tree, The Trinité it meneth."

And egreliche he loked on me; And therfore I spared To asken hym any moore therof, 10930 And bad hym ful faire To discryve the fruyt That so faire hangeth.

"Heer no bynethe," quod he tho, "If I nede hadde, Matrimoyne I may nyme, A moiste fruyt withalle; Thanne continence is neer the crop, As kaylewey bastard, Thanne bereth the crop kynde fruyt, 10940 And clennest of alle, Maidenhode aungeles peeris And rathest wole be ripe, And swete withouten swellyng, Sour worth it nevere."

I preide Piers tho to pulle a-doun An appul, and he wolde, And suffre me to assaien What savour it hadde.

And Piers caste to the crop, 10950

And thanne comsed it to crye, And waggede widwehode, And it wepte after; And whan it meved matrimoyne, It made a foul noise. And I hadde ruthe whan Piers rogged, It gradde so rufulliche; For evere as thei dropped a-doun, The devel was redy And gadrede hem alle togideres, 10960 Bothe grete and smale, Adam and Abraham, And Ysaye the prophete, Sampson and Samuel, And seint Johan the Baptist, Bar hem forth bodily, No body hym letted, And made of holy men his hoord In limbo inferni, There is derknesse and drede, 10970 And the devel maister.

And Piers, for pure tene, Of that a pil he raughte; He hitte after hym, Hitte how it myghte, Filius by the fader wille, And frenesse of Spiritus sancti, To go robbe that rageman, And reve the fruyt fro hym.

And thanne spak Spiritus sanctus 10980 In Gabrielis mouthe, To a maide that highte Marie, A meke thyng withalle, That oon Jhesus a justices sone

Moste jouke in hir chambre, Til plenitudo temporis Fully comen were, That Piers fruyt floured, And felle to be rype, And thanne sholde Jhesus juste therfore, 10990 By juggement of armes, Wheither sholde fonge the fruyt, The fend or hymselve.

The maide myldeliche tho The messager graunted, And seide hendeliche to hym, "Lo me his hand-maiden For to werchen his wille, Withouten any synne." Ecce ancilla Domini, fiat mihi, etc. 11000

And in the wombe of that wenche Was he fourty woukes, Til he weex a faunt thorugh hir flessh, And of fightyng kouthe, To have y-foughte with the fend Er ful tyme come. And Piers the Plowman Perceyved plener tyme, And lered hym lechecraft His lif for to save, 11010 That though he were wounded with his enemy, To warisshen hymselve, And dide hym assaie his surgenrie On hem that sike were, Til he was perfit praktisour, If any peril fille; And soughte out the sike And synfulle bothe,

And salvede sike and synfulle, Bothe blynde and crokede, 11020 And commune wommen convertede, And to goode turnede. Non est sanis opus medicinæ, sed in, etc.

Bothe meseles and mute, And in the menyson blody, Ofte heeled swiche, He ne held it for no maistrie, Save tho he leched Lazar That hadde y-leye in grave, Quatriduanus quelt, 11030 Quyk dide hym walke. Ac as he made the maistrie, Moestus coepit esse, And wepte water with hise eighen, Ther seighen it manye. Some that the sighte seighen, Seiden that tyme That he was leche of lif, And lord of heigh hevene. Jewes jangled ther ayein, 11040 And juggede lawes And seide he wroghte thorugh wichecraft, And with the develes myghte. Dæmonium habet, etc.

Thanne, "are ye cherles," quod ich, "And youre children bothe, And Sathan youre saveour, Ye self now ye witnessen." "For I have saved yow self," seith Crist, "And youre sones after, 11050 Youre bodies, youre beestes,

And blynde men holpen And fed yow with two fisshes And with fyve loves, And lefte baskettesful of broke mete, Bere awey who so wolde." And mys-seide the Jewes manliche And manaced hem to bete, And knokked on hem with a corde, And caste a-doun hir stalles 11060 That in chirche chaffareden, Or chaungeden any moneie, And seide it in sighte of hem alle, So that alle herden:—

"I shal overturne this temple, And a-doun throwe it, And in thre daies after Edifie it new, And maken it as muche outher moore In alle manere poyntes 11070 As evere it was, and as wid; Wherfore I hote yow, Of preieres and of perfitnesse This place that ye callen." Domus mea domus orationis vocabitur. =

Envye and yvel wil Was in the Jewes; Thei casten and contreveden To kulle hym whan thei myghte, 11080 Eche day after oother Hir tyme thei awaiteden; Til it bifel on a Friday A litel bifore Pasqe, The Thursday bifore

There he made his maundee, Sittynge at the soper He seide thise wordes, "I am sold thorugh oon of yow, He shal the tyme rewe, 11090 That evere he his Saveour solde, For silver or ellis."

Judas jangled ther ayein; Ac Jhesus hym tolde, It was hymself soothly, And seide tu dicis.

Thanne wente forth that wikked man, And with the Jewes mette, And tolde hem a tokne How to knowe with Jhesus, 11100 And which tokne to this day To muche is y-used, That is kissynge and fair countenaunce, And unkynde wille. And so was with Judas tho, That Jhesus bitrayed: "Ave, raby," quod that ribaud, And right to hym he yede, And kiste hym, to be caught therby, And kulled of the Jewes. 11110

Thanne Jhesus to Judas And to the Jewes seide, "Falsnesse I fynde In thi faire speche, And gile in thi glad chere, And galle is in thi laughyng; Thow shalt be myrour To many men to deceyve, Ac the worse and the wikkednesse

Shal worthe upon thiselve. 11120 Necesse est ut veniant scandala: Væ homini illi per quem scandalum venit!

"Though I bi treson be take At youre owene wille, Suffreth myne apostles in pees And in pays gange." On a Thursday in thesternesse Thus was he taken, Thorugh Judas and Jewes, 11130 Jhesus was his name, That on the Friday folwynge For mankyndes sake Justed in Jherusalem, A joye to us alle. On cros upon Calvarie Crist took the bataille Ayeins deeth and the devel, Destruyed hir botheres myghtes, Deide and deed for-dide, 11140 And day of nyght made.

And I awaked therwith, And wiped myne eighen, And after Piers the Plowman Pried and stared Est-ward and west-ward, I waited after faste, And yede forth as an ydiot In contree to aspie, After Piers the Plowman 11150 Many a place I soughte. And thanne mette I with a man, A myd-lenten Sonday,

As hoor as an hawethorn, And Abraham he highte. I frayned hym first Fram whennes he come, And of whennes he were, And whider that he soughte.

"Iam Feith," quod that freke, 11160 "It falleth noght to lye, And of Abrahames hous An heraud of armes, And seke after a segge That I seigh ones, A ful bold bacheler, I knew hym by his blasen."

"What berth that buyrn?" quod I tho, "So blisse thee bitide!"

"Thre leodes in oon lyth, 11170 Noon lenger than oother, Of oon muchel and myght In mesure and in lengthe; That oon dooth, alle dooth, And ech dooth bi his one.

"The firste hath myght and majestee, Makere of alle thynges, Pater is his propre name, A persone by hymselve.

"The secounde of tha sire is 11180 Sothfastnesse filius, Wardeyn of that wit hath Was evere withouten gynnyng.

"The thridde highte the Holi Goost, A persone by hymselve, The light of al that lif hath

A-londe and a-watre, Confortour of creatures, Of hym cometh alle blisse.

"So thre bilongeth for a lord 11190 That lordshipe cleymeth, Might and mene To knowe his owene myghte, Of hym and of his servaunt, And what thei suffre bothe.

"So God that gynnyng hadde nevere, But tho hym good thoughte, Sente forth his sone, As for servaunt that tyme, To ocupie hym here, 11200 Til issue were spronge, That is, children of charité, And holi chirche the moder; Patriarkes and prophetes And apostles were the children, And Crist and cristendom, And cristene holy chirche, In menynge that man moste On o God bileve. And there hym likede and lovede, 11210 In thre persones hym shewede, And that it may be so and sooth, Manhode it sheweth, Wedlok and widwehode, With virginité y-nempned, In tokenynge of the Trinité Was out of man taken.

"Adam was oure aller fader, And Eve was of hymselve,

And the issue that thei hadde 11220 It was of hem bothe, And either is otheres joie In thre sondry persones, And in hevene and here Oon singuler name; And thus is mankynde and manhede Of matrimoyne y-spronge, And bitokneth the Trinité And trewe bileve.

"Mighty is matrimoyne, 11230 That multiplieth the erthe, And bitokneth trewely, Telle if I dorste, Hym that first formed al, The fader of hevene.

"The sone, if I it dorste seye, Resembleth wel the widewe. Deus meus, Deus meus, ut quid dereliquisti me! =

"That is, creatour weex creature 11240 To knowe what was bothe. As widewe withouten wedlok Was nevere yit y-seighe; Na-moore myghte God be man, But if he moder hadde. So widewe withouten wedlok May noght wel stande, Ne matrimoyne withouten muliere Is noght muche to preise. Maledictus homo qui non reliquit 11250 semen in Israel! etc.

"Thus in thre persones Is perfitliche manhede;

That is man and his make And mulliere children. And is noght but gendre of a generacion Bifore Jhesu Crist in hevene; So is the fader forth with the sone, And fre wille of bothe. Spiritus procedens a patre et filio, etc. = Which is the Holy Goost of alle, 11262 And alle is but o God.

"Thus in a somer I hym seigh As I sat in my porche. I roos up and reverenced hym, And right faire hym grette, Thre men to my sighte I made wel at ese, Wessh her feet and wiped hem, 11270 And afterward thei eten Calves flessh and cake-breed, And knewe what I thoughte! Ful trewe toknes bitwene us is, To telle whan me liketh.

"First he fonded me If I lovede bettre Hym or Ysaak myn heir, The which he highte me kulle. He wiste my wille bi hym, 11280 He wol me it allowe; I am ful siker in soule therof, And my sone bothe. I circumscised my sone Sithen for his sake, Myself and my meynee, And alle that male weere,

Bledden blood for that Lordes love, And hope to blisse the tyme. Myn affiaunce and my feith 11290 Is ferme in his bileve; For himself bihighte to me, And to myn issue bothe, Lond and lordshipe, And lif withouten ende; To me and to myn issue Moore yet he grauntede, Mercy for oure mys-dedes, As many tyme as we asken. Quam olim Abrahæ promisisti et 11300 semini ejus.

"And siththe he sente me to seye I sholde do sacrifise, And doon hym worship with breed And with wyn bothe; And called me the foot of his feith, His folk for to save, And defende hem fro the fend, Folk that on me leveden.

"Thus have I ben his heraud 11310 Here and in helle, And conforted many a careful That after his comynge waiteden. And thus I seke hym," he seide, "For I herde seyn late Of a barn that baptysed hym, Johan Baptist was his name, That to patriarkes and to prophetes, And to oother peple in derknesse, Seide that he seigh here 11320 That sholde save us alle."

Ecce agnus Dei! etc.

I hadde wonder of hise wordes, And of hise wide clothes; For in his bosom he bar a thyng That he blissed evere. And I loked in his lappe, A lazar lay therinne Amonges patriarkes and prophetes Pleyinge togideres. 11330

"What awaitestow?" quod he, "And what woldestow have?"

"I wolde wite," quod I tho, "What is in youre lappe."

"Loo!" quod he; and leet me see. "Lord, mercy!" I seide; "This is a present of muche pris, What prynce shal it have?"

"It is a precious present," quod he; "Ac the pouke it hath attached, 11340 And me thermyde," quod that man, "May no wed us quyte, Ne no buyrn be oure borgh, Ne brynge us fram his daunger; Out of the poukes pondfold No maynprise may us feeche, Til he come that I carpe of, Crist is his name. That shal delivere us som day Out of the develes power, 11350 And bettre wed for us legge Than we ben alle worthi, That is lif for lif, Or ligge thus evere Lollynge in my lappe,

Til swich a lord us fecche."

"Allas!" I seide, "that synne So longe shal lette The myght of Goddes mercy, That myghte us alle amende." 11360 I wepte for hise wordes. With that saugh I another Rapeliche renne forth, The righte wey he wente. I affrayned hym first Fram whennes he come, And what he highte, and whider he wolde; And wightly he tolde. 11368