Passus Quartus de Visione, ut supra

"Cesseth," seith the kyng, "I suffre yow no lenger; Ye shul saughtne for sothe, And serve me bothe. Kis hire," quod the kyng, "Conscience, I hote."

"Nay, by Crist!" quod Conscience, "Congeye me er for evere, But Reson rede me therto, Rather wol I deye."

"And I comaunde thee," quod the kyng, To Conscience thanne, "Rape thee to ryde, And Reson thow fecche; Comaunde hym that he come My counseil to here, For he shal rule my reaume And rede me the beste, And acounte with thee, Conscience, So me Crist helpe! How thow lernest the peple, The lered and the lewed."

"I am fayn of that foreward," Seide the freke thanne,

And ryt right to Reson, And rouneth in his ere, And seide as the kyng bad, And sithen took his leve.

"I shal arraye me to ryde," quod Reson, "Reste thee a while." And called Caton his knave, Curteis of speche, And also Tomme Trewe-tonge,— "Tel me no tales, Ne lesynge to laughen of, For I loved hem nevere; And set my sadel upon Suffre, Til I se my tyme, And lat warroke hym wel With witty-wordes gerthes, And hange on hym the hevy brydel To holde his heed lowe, For he wol make 'wehee!' Twies er he be there."

Thanne Conscience upon his capul Carieth forth faste, And Reson with hym ryt, Rownynge togideres, Whiche maistries Mede Maketh on this erthe.

Oon Waryn Wisdom, And Witty his feere, Folwed hym faste, For thei hadde to doone In th'escheker and in the chauncerye, To ben descharged of thynges; And riden faste, for Reson sholde Rede hem the beste,

For to save hem for silver From shame and from harmes. And Conscience knew hem wel, Thei loved coveitise; And bad Reson ryde faste, And recche of hir neither. "Ther are wiles in hire wordes, And with Mede thei dwelleth; Ther as wrathe and wranglynge is, Ther wynne thei silver; Ac where is love and leautee, Thei wol noght come there. Contritio et infelicitas in viis eorum, etc.

"Thei ne yeveth noght of God One goose wynge. Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc. =

"For woot God thei wolde do moore For a dozeyne chicknes, Or as manye capons, Or for a seem of otes, Than for the love of oure Lord, Or alle hise leeve seintes. For-thi Reson lat hem ride, Tho riche by hemselve, For Conscience knoweth hem noght, Ne Crist, as I trowe." And thanne Reson rood faste The righte heighe gate, As Conscience hym kenned, Til thei come to the kynge.

Curteisly the kyng thanne Com ayeins Reson,

And bitwene hymself and his sone Sette hym on benche; And wordeden wel wisely A gret while togideres.

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, 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. 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. I am noght hardy for hym Unnethe to loke."

The kyng knew he seide sooth, For Conscience hym tolde

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, 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, "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, 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,

"Withouten gilt, God it woot, Gat I this scathe; 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; 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, 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, And profrede Pees a present Al of pure golde:

"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; "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! 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."

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.

"Reed me noght," quod Reson, "No ruthe to have, Til lordes and ladies Loven alle truthe, 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, 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, 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,

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, 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, 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.

"Lat youre confessour, sire kyng, Construe this unglosed; And if ye werchen it in werk, I wedde myne eris,

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, 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, 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, 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,

But he be knowe for a cokewold, Kut of my nose."

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, 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; 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! I wole have leauté in lawe, And lete be al youre janglyng;

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."

"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; 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."