Passus Secundus de Visione, ut supra

Yet I courbed on my knees, And cried hire of grace, And seide, "Mercy, madame, For Marie love of hevene, That bar that blisful barn That boughte us on the rode, Kenne me by som craft To knowe the false."

"Loke up on thi left half, And lo where he stondeth! Bothe Fals and Favel, And hire feeres manye."

I loked on my left half, As the lady me taughte, And was war of a womman Worthiliche y-clothed, Purfiled with pelure The fyneste upon erthe, Y-corouned with a coroune, The kyng hath noon bettre; Fetisliche hire fyngres Were fretted with gold wyr, And theron rede rubies As rede as any gleede,

And diamaundes of derrest pris, And double manere saphires, Orientals and ewages, Envenymes to destroye.

Hire robe was ful riche, Of reed scarlet engreyned, With ribanes of reed gold And of riche stones. Hire array me ravysshed, Swich richesse saugh I nevere; I hadde wonder what she was, And whos wif she were.

"What is this womman," quod I, "So worthili atired?"

"That is Mede the mayde," quod she, "Hath noyed me ful ofte, And y-lakked my lemman That Leautee is hoten, And bi-lowen hire to lordes That lawes han to kepe.

"In the popes paleis She is pryvee as myselve; But soothnesse wolde noght so, For she is a bastarde; For fals was hire fader That hath a fikel tonge, And nevere sooth seide Sithen he com to erthe; And Mede is manered after hym, Right as kynde asketh Qualis pater talis filius. Bonus arbor bonum fructum facit.

"I oughte ben hyere than she, I kam of a bettre;

My fader the grete God is And ground of alle graces, So God withouten gynnyng, And I his goode doughter, And hath yeven me mercy To marie with myselve, And what man be merciful And leelly me love, Shal be my lord and I his leef In the heighe hevene.

"And what man taketh Mede, Myn heed dar I legge, That he shal lese for hire love A lappe of caritatis.

"How construeth David the king Of men that taketh Mede, And men of this moolde That maynteneth truthe, And how ye shul save yourself, The sauter bereth witnesse: Domine, quis habitabit in tabernaculo tuo, etc. =

"And now worth this Mede y-maried Unto a mansed sherewe, To oon fals fikel tonge, A fendes biyete; Favel thorugh his faire speche Hath this folk enchaunted, And al is Lieres ledynge, That she is thus y-wedded.

"To-morwe worth y-maked The maydenes bridale, And there myghtow witen, if thow wilt, Whiche thei ben alle

That longen to that lordshipe, The lasse and the moore. Knowe hem there, if thow kanst, And kepe thow thi tonge, And lakke hem noght, but lat hem worthe Till leauté be justice, And have power to punysshe hem, Thanne put forth thi reson. Now I bikenne thee Crist," quod she, "And his clene moder, And lat no conscience acombre thee For coveitise of Mede."

Thus lefte me that lady Liggynge a-slepe; And how Mede was y-maried In metels me thoughte, That al the riche retenaunce That regneth with the false, Were boden to the bridale On bothe two sides, Of alle manere of men The meene and the riche; To marien this mayde Were many men assembled, As of knyghtes and of clerkes, And oother commune peple, As sisours and somonours, Sherreves and hire clerkes, Bedelles and baillifs, And brocours of chaffare, Forgoers and vitaillers, And advokettes of the arches; I kan noght rekene the route That ran aboute Mede.

Ac Symonie and Cyvylle, And sisours of courtes, Were moost pryvee with Mede Of any men, me thoughte. Ac Favel was the firste That fette hire out of boure, And as a brocour broughte hire To be with Fals enjoyned.

Whan Symonye and Cyvylle Seighe hir bothe wille, Thei assented, for silver, To seye as bothe wolde.

Thanne leep Liere forth, and seide, "Lo here a chartre!" That Gile with hise grete othes Gaf hem togidere, And preide Cyvylle to see, And Symonye to rede it.

Thanne Symonye and Cyvylle Stonden forth bothe, And unfoldeth the feffement That Fals hath y-maked, And thus bigynnen thise gomes To greden ful heighe: Sciant præsentes et futuri, etc.

Witeth and witnesseth, That wonieth upon this erthe, That Mede is y-maried Moore for hire goodes Than for any vertue or fairnesse, Or any free kynde. Falsnesse is fayn of hire, For he woot hire riche; And Favel with his fikel speche

Feffeth by this chartre, To be princes in pride And poverte to despise, To bakbite and to bosten, And bere fals witnesse, To scorne and to scolde, And sclaundre to make, Unbuxome and bolde To breke the ten hestes.

And the erldom of Envye And Wrathe togideres, With the chastilet of Cheste, And Chaterynge out of reson.

The countee of Coveitise, And alle the costes aboute, That is Usure and Avarice, Al I hem graunte, In bargaynes and in brocages, With al the burghe of Thefte,

And al the lordshipe of Leccherie In lengthe and in brede, As in werkes and in wordes, And in waitynges with eighes, And in wedes and in wisshynges, And with ydel thoughtes, There as wil wolde And werkmanshipe fayleth.

Glotonye he gaf hem ek, And grete othes togidere, And al day to drynken At diverse tavernes, And there to jangle and jape, And jugge hir even cristen; And in fastynge dayes to frete

Er ful tyme were, And thanne to sitten and soupen Til sleep hem assaille; And breden as burghe swyn, And bedden hem esily, Til sleuthe and sleep Sliken hise sydes, And thanne wanhope to awaken hem so With no wil to amende, For he leveth be lost, This is hir laste ende.

And thei to have and to holde, And hire heires after, A dwellynge with the devel, And dampned be for evere, With alle the appurtinaunces of purgatorie = Into the pyne of helle.

Yeldynge for this thyng, At one dayes tyme, Hire soules to Sathan, To suffre with hym peynes, And with hym to wonye with wo While God is in hevene.

In witnesse of which thyng, Wrong was the firste, And Piers the pardoner Of Paulynes doctrine, Bette the bedel Of Bokyngham shire, Reynald the reve Of Rutland sokene, Maude the millere, And many mo othere.

In the date of the devel This dede I ensele, By sighte of Sire Symonie And Cyvyles leeve.

Thanne tened hym Theologie, Whan he this tale herde; And seide unto Cyvyle, "Now sorwe mote thow have, Swiche weddynges to werche, To wrathe with truthe; And er this weddynge be wroght, Wo thee bitide!

"For Mede is muliere Of Amendes engendred, And God graunteth to gyve Mede to Truthe; And thow hast gyven hire to a gilour; Now God gyve thee sorwe! Thi text telleth thee noght so, Truthe woot the sothe; For Dignus est operarius His hire to have, And thow hast fest hire to Fals, Fy on thi lawe! For al bi lesynges thow lyvest And lecherouse werkes. Symonye and thiself Shenden holi chirche; The notaries and ye Noyen the peple; Ye shul a-biggen it bothe, By God that me made!

"Wel ye witen, wernardes, But if youre wit faille,

That Fals is feithlees And fikel in hise werkes, And was a bastarde y-bore Of Belsabubbes kynne; And Mede is muliere, A maiden of goode, And myghte kisse the kyng For cosyn, and she wolde.

"For-thi wercheth by wisdom, And by wit also; And ledeth hire to Londone, There it is y-shewed, If any lawe wol loke Thei ligge togideres; And though justices juggen hire To be joyned to Fals, Yet be war of weddynge; For witty is Truthe, And Conscience is of his counseil, And knoweth yow echone, And if he fynde yow in defaute And with the false holde, It shal bi-sitte youre soules Ful soure at the laste."

Herto assenteth Cyvyle, Ac Symonye ne wolde, Til he hadde silver for his service, And also the notaries.

Thanne fette Favel forth Floryns ynowe, And bad Gile to gyven Gold al aboute, And namely to the notaries That hem noon ne faille,

And feffe false witnesses With floryns ynowe, "For thei may Mede a-maistrye, And maken at my wille."

Tho this gold was y-gyve, Gret was the thonkyng To Fals and to Favel For hire faire giftes, And comen to conforten From care the false, And seiden, "Certes, sire, Cessen shul we nevere, Til Mede be thi wedded wif Thorugh wittes of us alle; For we have Mede a-maistried With oure murie speche, That she graunteth to goon, With a good wille, To London, to loken If the lawe wolde Juggen yow joyntly In joie for evere."

Thanne was Falsnesse fayn, And Favel as blithe, And leten somone alle segges In shires aboute, And bad hem alle be bown, Beggers and othere, To wenden with hem to Westmynstre To witnesse this dede.

Ac thanne cared thei for caples To carien hem thider, And Favel fette forth thanne Foles ynowe,

And sette Mede upon a sherreve Shoed al newe.

And Fals sat on a sisour, That softeli trotted; And Favel on a flaterere Fetisly atired.

Tho hadde notaries none, Anoyed thei were, For Symonye and Cyvylle Sholde on hire feet gange.

Ac thanne swoor Symonye, And Cyvylle bothe, That somonours sholde be sadeled And serven hem echone, And late apparaille thise provisours In palfreyes wise, Sire Symonye hymself Shal sitte upon hir bakkes.

"Denes and southdenes, Drawe yow togideres, Erchdekenes and officials, And alle youre registrers, Lat sadle hem with silver Oure synne to suffre, As avoutrye and divorses, And derne usurie, To bere bisshopes aboute A-brood in visitynge.

"Paulynes pryvees For pleintes in consistorie, Shul serven myself That Cyvyle is nempned.

"And cart-sadle the commissarie, Oure cart shal he lede,

And fecchen us vitailles. At Fornicatores. And maketh of Lyere a lang cart To leden alle thise othere, As freres and faitours, That on hire feet rennen."

And thus Fals and Favel Fareth forth togideres, And Mede in the middes, And alle thise men after.

I have no tome to telle The tail that hire folwed; Ac Gyle was for-goer, And gyed hem alle.

Sothnesse seigh hem wel, And seide but litel, And priked his palfrey, And passed hem alle, And com to the kynges court, And Conscience it tolde; And Conscience to the kyng Carped it after.

"Now, by Crist," quod the kyng, "And I cacche myghte Fals or Favel, Or any of hise feeris, I wolde be wroken of tho wrecches That wercheth so ille, And doon hem hange by the hals, And alle that hem maynteneth; Shal nevere man of this molde Meynprise the leeste, But right as the lawe wol loke, Lat falle on hem alle."

And comaunded a constable That com at the firste, To attachen tho tyrauntz, "For any thyng I hote, And fettreth faste Falsnesse, For any kynnes giftes, And girdeth of Gyles heed, And lat hym go no ferther; And if ye lacche Lyere, Lat hym noght ascapen Er he be put on the pillory, For any preyere, I hote; And bryngeth Mede to me Maugree hem alle."

Drede at the dore stood, And the doom herde, And how the kyng comaunded Constables and sergeauntz Falsnesse and his felawshipe To fettren and to bynden.

Thanne Drede wente wyghtliche, And warned the False, And bad hym fle for fere, And hise felawes alle.

Falsnesse for fere thanne Fleigh to the ffreres, And Gyle dooth hym to go, A-gast for to dye; Ac marchauntz metten with hym And made hym abide, And bi-shetten hym in hire shoppes To shewen hire ware, Apparailed hym as apprentice The peple to serve.

Lightliche Lyere Leep awey thanne, Lurkynge thorugh lanes, To-lugged of manye. He was nowher welcome, For his manye tales, Over al y-honted, And y-hote trusse, Til pardoners hadde pité, And pulled hym into house. They wesshen hym and wiped hym. And wounden hym in cloutes, And senten hym with seles On Sondayes to chirches, And yeven pardoun for pens Pounde-mele aboute.

Thanne lourede leches, And lettres thei sente, That he sholde wonye with hem Watres to loke.

Spycers speken with hym, To spien hire ware; For he kouthe of hir craft, And knewe manye gommes.

And mynstrales and messagers Mette with hym ones, And helden hym an half-yeer And ellevene dayes.

Freres with fair speche Fetten hym pennes, And for knowynge of comeres Coped hym as a frere; Ac he hath leve to lepen out, As ofte as hym liketh,

And is welcome whan he wile, And woneth with hem ofte.

Alle fledden for fere, And flowen into hernes; Save Mede the mayde, Na-mo dorste abide. Ac trewely to telle, She trembled for drede, And ek wepte and wrong, Whan she was attached.