Passus Decimus Quartus, etc.
"I am the lasse to blame,
Though it be soiled and selde clene:
I slepe therinne o nyghtes.
And also I have an houswif,
Hewen and children,—
Uxorem duxi, et ideo non possum venire.—
That wollen by-molen it many tyme,
Maugree my chekes.
It hath be laved in Lente
And out of Lente bothe, 8910
With the sope of siknesse,
That seketh wonder depe,
And with the losse of catel,
Looth for to a-gulte
God of any good man,
By aught that I wiste;
And was shryven of the preest
That gaf me for my synnes
To penaunce pacience
And povere men to fede, 8920
Al for coveitise of my cristendom
In clennesse to kepen it.
And kouthe I nevere, by Crist!
Kepen it clene an houre,
That I ne soiled it with sighte
Or som ydel speche,
Or thorugh werk, or thorugh word,
Or wille of myn herte,
That I ne flobre it foule
Fro morwe til even." 8930
"And I shal kenne thee," quod Conscience,
"Of contricion to make
That shal clawe thi cote
Of alle kynnes filthe.
Cordis contritio, etc.
Do-wel shal wasshen and wryngen it
Thorugh a wis confessour.
Oris confessio, etc.
Do-bet shal beten it and bouken it
As bright as any scarlet, 8940
And engreyven it with good wille
And Goddes grace to amende the,
And sithen sende thee to satisfaccion
For to sowen it after.
Satisfactio Do-best.
"Shal nevere cheeste by-molen it,
Ne mothe after biten it,
Ne fend ne fals man
Defoulen it in thi lyve.
Shal noon heraud ne harpour 8950
Have a fairer garnement
Than Haukyn the actif man,
And thow do by my techyng;
Ne no mynstrall be moore worth
Amonges povere and riche,
Than Haukyns wif the wafrer,
With his activa vita."
"And I shal purveie thee paast," quod Pacience,
"Though no plough erye,
And flour to fede folk with 8960
As best be for the soule,
Though nevere greyn growed,
Ne grape upon vyne.
To alle that lyveth and loketh
Liflode wolde I fynde,
And that y-nogh shal noon faille
Of thyng that hem nedeth,
We sholde noght be to bisy
Abouten oure liflode,"
Ne solliciti sitis, etc. Volucres cœli 8970
Deus pascit, etc. Patientes
vincunt.
Thanne laughed Haukyn a litel,
And lightly gan swerye,
"Who so leveth yow, by oure Lord!
I leve noght he be blessed."
"No," quod Pacience paciently;
And out of his poke hente
Vitailles of grete vertues
For alle manere beestes, 8980
And seide, "Lo here liflode y-nogh!
If oure bileve be trewe.
For lent nevere was lif,
But liflode were shapen,
Wher-of or wher-fore
Or wher-by to libbe.
"First the wilde worm
Under weet erthe,
Fissh to lyve in the flood,
And in the fir the criket, 8990
The corlew by kynde of the eyr
Moost clennest flessh of briddes,
And bestes by gras and by greyn
And by grene rootes,
In menynge that alle men
Myghte the same
Lyve thorugh leel bileve
And love, as God witnesseth."
Quodcunque petieritis a patre in
nomine meo, etc. Et alibi: 9000
Non in solo pane vivit homo,
sed in omni verbo quod procedit
de ore Dei.
But I lokede what liflode it was
That Pacience so preisede;
And thanne was it a pece of the pater-noster,
Fiat voluntas tua.
"Have, Haukyn," quod Pacience,
"And et this whan the hungreth,
Or whan thow clomsest for cold, 9010
Or clyngest for drye;
Shul nevere gyves thee greve,
Ne gret lordes wrathe,
Prison ne peyne;
For patientes vincunt.
By so that thow be sobre
Of sighte and of tonge,
In etynge and in handlynge,
And in alle thi fyve wittes,
Darstow nevere care for corn, 9020
Ne lynnen cloth ne wollen,
Ne for drynke, ne deeth drede,
But deye as God liketh,
Or thorugh hunger or thorugh hete,
At his wille be it.
For if thow lyve after his loore,
The shorter lif the bettre.
Si quis amat Christum,
Mundum non diliget istum.
"For thorugh his breeth beestes woxen 9030
And a-brood yeden.
Dixit et facta sunt, etc.
Ergo thorugh his breeth mowen
Men and beestes lyven,
As holy writ witnesseth,
Whan men seye hir graces.
Aperis tu manum tuam, et imples
omne animal benedictione.
"It is founden that fourty wynter
Folk lyvede withouten tulying; 9040
And out of the flynt sprong the flood
That folk and beestes dronken;
And in Elyes tyme
Hevene was y-closed,
That no reyn ne roon;
Thus rede men in bokes 9046
That many wyntres men lyveden,
And no mete ne tulieden.
"Sevene slepe, as seith the book,
Sevene hundred wynter,
And lyveden withouten liflode,
And at the laste thei woken.
And if men lyvede as mesure wolde,
Sholde nevere moore be defaute
Amonges cristene creatures,
If Cristes wordes ben trewe.
"Ac unkyndenesse caristiam maketh 9056[1]
Amonges cristen peple;
And over plentee maketh pryde
Amonges poore and riche.
Therfore mesure is muche worth, 9060
It may noght be to deere;
For the meschief and the meschaunce
Amonges men of Sodome,
Weex thorugh plentee of payn,
And of pure sleuthe.
Otiositas et abundantia panis peccatum
turpissimum nutrivit.
For thei mesured noght hemself
Of that thei ete and dronke,
Thei diden dedly synne 9070
That the devel liked,
So vengeaunce fil upon hem
For hir vile synnes;
Thei sonken into helle,
The citees echone.
"For-thi mesure we us wel,
And make oure feith oure sheltrom;
And thorugh feith cometh contricion,
Conscience woot wel,
Which dryveth awey dedly synne, 9080
And dooth it to be venial.
And though a man myghte noght speke,
Contricion myghte hym save,
And brynge his soule to blisse;
For so that feith bere witnesse,
That whiles he lyvede, he bilevede
In the loore of the holy chirche.
Ergo contricion, feith, and conscience
Is kyndeliche Do-wel,
And surgiens for dedly synnes 9090
Whan shrift of mouthe failleth.
Ac shrift of mouth moore worthi is,
If man be y-liche contrit;
For shrift of mouthe sleeth synne,
Be it never so dedly.
Per confessionem to a preest
Peccata occiduntur.
"Ther contricion dooth but dryveth it down
Into a venial synne,
As David seith in the Sauter, 9100
Et quorum tecta sunt peccata;
Ac satisfaccion seketh out the roote,
And bothe sleeth and voideth,
An as it nevere hadde y-be
To noghte bryngeth dedly synne,
That it nevere eft is sene ne soor,
But semeth a wounde y-heeled."
"Where wonyeth Charité?" quod Haukyn,
"I wiste nevere in my lyve
Man that with hym spak, 9110
As wide as I have passed."
"Ther parfit truthe and poore herte is,
And pacience of tonge,
Ther is Charité the chief chaumbrere
For God hymselve."
"Wheither paciente poverte," quod Haukyn,
"Be moore plesaunt to our Drighte
Than richesse rightfulliche wonne,
And resonably despended?"
"Ye, quis est ille?" quod Pacience; 9120
"Quik laudabimus eum.
Though men rede of richesse
Right to the worldes ende,
I wiste nevere renk that riche was,
That whan he rekene sholde,
Whan he drogh to his deeth day,
That he ne dredde hym soore,
And that at the rekenyng in arrerage fel
Rather than out of dette.
Ther the poore dar plede, 9130
And preve by pure reson,
To have allowance of his lord,
By the lawe he it cleymeth;
Joye, that nevere joye hadde,
Of rightful jugge he asketh,
And seith 'Lo! briddes and beestes
That no blisse ne knoweth,
And wilde wormes in wodes,
Thorugh wyntres thow hem grevest;
And makest hem wel neigh meke, 9140
And mylde for defaute;
And after thow sendest hem somer,
That is hir sovereyn joye,
And blisse to alle that ben,
Bothe wilde and tame.'
"Thanne may beggeris as beestes
After boote waiten,
That al hir lif han lyved
In langour and in defaute,
But God sente hem som tyme 9150
Som manere joye
Outher here or ellis where,
Kynde wolde it nevere;
For to wrotherhele was he wroght
That nevere was joye shapen.
Aungeles that in helle now ben
Hadden joye som tyme;
And Dives in the deyntees lyvede,
And in douce vie.
Right so reson sheweth 9160
That the men that were riche,
And hir makes also,
Lyvede hir lif in murthe.
"Ac God is of wonder wille,
By that kynde wit sheweth,
To gyve many man his mede
Er he it have deserved.
Right so fareth God by some riche,
Ruthe me it thynketh;
For thei han hir hire heer, 9170
And hevene, as it were,
And greet likynge to lyve
Withouten labour of bodye:
And whan he dyeth, ben disalowed,
As David seith in the Sauter:
Dormierunt, et nihil invenerunt.
And in another stede also:
Velut somnium surgentium, Domine,
in civitate tua, et ad nihilum
rediges, etc. 9180
"Allas! that richesse shal reve
And robbe mannes soule
From the love of oure Lord,
At his laste ende.
"Hewen, that han hir hire afore,
Arn evere moore nedy;
And selden deyeth he out of dette,
That dyneth er he deserve it,
And til he have doon his devoir
And his dayes journée. 9190
For whan a werkman hath wroght,
Than many men se the sothe
What he were worthi for his werk,
And what he hath deserved;
And noght to fonge bifore,
For drede of disalowyng.
"So I seye by yow riche,
It semeth noght that ye shulle
Have hevene in youre here dwellyng,
And hevene also therafter; 9200
Right so as a servaunt taketh his salarie bifore,
And siththe wolde clayme moore,
As he that noon hadde,
And hath hire at the laste.
It may noght be, ye riche men,
Or Mathew on God lyeth:
Væ! deliciis ad delicias difficile est
transire.
"Ac if ye riche have ruthe,
And rewarde wel the poore, 9210
And lyven as lawe techeth,
And doon leauté to hem alle,
Crist of his curteisie
Shal conforte yow at the laste,
And rewarden alle double richesse
That rewful hertes habbeth.
And as an hyne that hadde
His hire er he bigonne,
And whan he hath doon his devoir wel
Men dooth hym oother bountee, 9220
Gyveth hym a cote above his covenaunt,
Right so Crist gyveth hevene
Bothe to riche and to noght riche
That rewfulliche libbeth;
And alle that doon hir devoir wel
Han double hire for hir travaille,
Here forgifnesse of hir synnes,
And hevene blisse after.
"Ac it is but selde y-seien,
As by holy seintes bokes, 9230
That God rewarded double reste
To any riche wye.
For muche murthe is amonges riche,
As in mete and clothyng;
And muche murthe in May is
Amonges wilde beestes,
And so forth while somer lasteth
Hir solace dureth.
"Ac beggeris aboute Midsomer
Bred-lees thei slepe.
And yet is wynter for hem worse,
For weet shoed thei gone,
A-furst soore and a-fyngred,
And foule y-rebuked, 9244
And a-rated of riche men
That ruthe is to here.
Now, Lord, sende hem somer,
And som maner joye,
Hevene after hir hennes goyng,
That here han swich defaute,
For alle myghtestow have maad
Noon mener than oother,
And y-liche witty and wise,
If thee wel hadde liked.
But, Lord, have ruthe on thise riche men, 9254[2]
That rewarde noght thi prisoners.
Of the good that thow hem gyvest
Ingrati ben manye;
Ac, God, of thi goodnesse
Gyve hem grace to amende.
For may no derthe be hem deere, 9260
Droghte ne weet hem greve,
Ne neither hete ne hayll;
Have thei hir heele,
Of that thei wilne and wolde
Wanteth hem noght here.
"Ac poore peple thi prisoners,
Lord, in the put of meschief,
Conforte tho creatures,
That muche care suffren
Thorugh derthe, thorugh droghte, 9270
Alle hir dayes here,
Wo in wynter tymes
For wantynge of clothes,
And in somer tyme selde
Soupen to the fulle.
Conforte thi carefulle,
Crist, in thi richesse;
For how thow confortest alle creatures,
Clerkes bereth witnesse:
Convertimini ad me, et salvi eritis. 9280
"Thus in genere of gentries
Jhesu Crist seide,
To robberis and to reveris,
To riche and to poore,
Thou taughtest hem in the Trinité
To taken bapteme,
And to be clene through that cristnyng
Of alle kynnes synne;
And if us fille thorugh folie
To falle in synne after, 9290
Confession and knowlichynge
In cravynge thi mercy,
Shulde amenden us as manye sithes
As man wolde desire.
And if the pope wolde plede ayein,
And punysshe us in conscience,
He sholde take the acquitaunce as quyk,
And to the queed shewen it.
Pateat, etc. per passionem Domini.
And putten of so the pouke, 9300
And preven us under borwe.
Ac the parchemyn of this patente
Of poverte be moste,
And of pure pacience,
And parfit bileve.
"Of pompe and of pride
The parchemym decourreth,
And principalliche of al the peple,
But thei be poore of herte;
Ellis is al on ydel, 9310
Al that evere writen
Pater-nostres and penaunce,
And pilgrymages to Rome;
But oure spences and spendynge
Sprynge of a trewe wille,
Ellis is al our labour lost,
Lo! how men writeth
In fenestres at the freres,
If fals be the foundement.
For-thi cristene sholde be in commune riche, 9320
Noon coveitous for hymselve.
"For sevene synnes ther ben,
That assaillen us evere;
The fend folweth hem alle,
And fondeth hem to helpe.
Ac with richesse that ribaud
He rathest men bigileth.
For ther that richesse regneth,
Reverence folweth;
And that is plesaunt to pride, 9330
In poore and in riche.
And the riche is reverenced
By reson of his richesse,
Ther the poore is put bihynde,
And peraventure kan moore
Of wit and of wisdom,
That fer awey is bettre
Than richesse or reautee,
And rather y-herd in hevene.
For the riche hath muche to rekene; 9340
And many tyme hym that walketh
The heighe wey to hevene-ward,
Richesse hym letteth,—
Ita inpossibile diviti, etc.—
Ther the poore preesseth bifore the riche,
With a pak at his rugge,—
Opera enim illorum sequuntur illos.—
Batauntliche, as beggeris doon,
And boldeliche he craveth,
For his poverte and his pacience, 9350
A perpetuel blisse.
Beati pauperes, quoniam ipsorum
est regnum cælorum.
"And pride in richesse regneth
Rather than in poverte;
Arst in the master than in the man
Som mansion he haveth.
Ac in poverte, ther pacience is,
Pride hath no myghte,
Ne none of the sevene synnes 9360
Sitten ne mowe ther longe,
Ne have power in poverte,
If pacience folwe.
For the poore is ay prest
To plese the riche,
And buxom at hise biddynges,
For his broke loves;
And boxomnesse and boost
Arn evere moore at werre,
And either hateth oother 9370
In alle maner werkes.
"If wrathe wrastle with the poore,
He hath the worse ende;
And if thei bothe pleyne,
The poore is but feble;
And if he chide or chatre,
Hym cheveth the worse.
"And if coveitise cacche the poore,
Thei may noght come togideres;
And by the nekke namely 9380
Hir noon may hente oother.
For men knowen wel that coveitise
Is of kene wille,
And hath hondes and armes
Of ful greet lengthe;
And poverte nys but a petit thyng,
Apereth noght to his navele;
And lovely layk was it nevere
Bitwene the longe and the shorte.
"And though avarice wolde angre the poore, 9390
He hath but litel myghte;
For poverte hath but pokes
To putten in hise goodes,
Ther avarice hath almaries,
And yren bounden cofres.
And wheither be lighter to breke,
And lasse boost maketh,
A beggeris bagge
Than an yren bounde cofre?
"Lecherie loveth hym noght, 9400
For he gyveth but litel silver,
Ne dooth hym noght dyne delicatly,
Ne drynke wyn ofte.
A straw for the stuwes!
Thei stoode noght, I trowe,
Hadde thei no thyng but of poore men,
Hir houses stoode untyled.
"And though sleuthe suwe poverte,
And serve noght God to paie,
Meschief is his maister, 9410
And maketh hym to thynke
That God is his grettest help,
And no gome ellis;
And he is servaunt, as he seith,
And of his sute bothe;
And wheither he be or be noght,
He bereth the signe of poverte,
And in that secte oure Saveour
Saved al mankynde.
For-thi every poore that pacient is, 9420
May cleymen and asken
After hir endynge here
Hevene riche blisse,
"Muche hardier may he asken,
That here myghte have his wille
In lond and in lordshipe,
And likynge of bodie,
And for Goddes love leveth al,
Any lyveth as a beggere;
And as a mayde for mannes love 9430
Hire moder forsaketh,
Hir fader and alle hire frendes,
And folweth hir make.
Muche moore is to love
Of hym that swich oon taketh,
Than is that maiden
That is maried thorugh brocage,
As by assent of sondry parties,
And silver to boote,
Moore for coveitise of good 9440
Than kynde love of bothe.
So it fareth by ech a persone
That possession forsaketh,
And put hym to be pacient.
And poverte weddeth,
The which is sib to God hymself,
And so to hise seintes."
"Have God my trouthe!" quod Haukyn,
"Ye preise faste poverte,
What is poverte with pacience," quod he; 9450
"Proprely to mene?"
"Paupertas," quod Pacience, "est
odibile bonum, remotio curarum,
possessio sine calumnia,
donum Dei, sanitatis mater,
absque sollicitudine semita,
sapientiæ temperatrix, negotium
sine damno, incerta fortuna,
absque sollicitudine
felicitas." 9460
"I kan noght construe al this," quod Haukyn,
"Ye moste kenne me this on Englissh."
"In Englissh," quod Pacience,
"It is wel hard wel to expounen;
Ac som deel I shal seyen it,
By so thow understonde:
Poverte is the firste point
That pride moost hateth;
Thanne is it good by good skile,
Al that agasteth pride. 9470
Right as contricion is confortable thyng,
Conscience woot wel,
And a sorwe of hymself,
And a solace to the soule,
So poverte propreliche,
Penaunce and joye,
Is to the body
Pure spiritual helthe.
Ergo paupertas est odibile bonum.
And contricion confort, 9480
And cura animarum.
"Selde sit poverte,
The sothe to declare;
For as justice to jugge men,
Enjoyned is no poore,
Ne to be mair above men
Ne mynystre under kynges;
Selde is any poore y-put
To punysshen any peple.
Remotio curarum. 9490
Ergo poverte and poore men
Perfournen the comaundement,
Nolite judicare
Quemquam the thridde,"
"Selde is any poore riche,
But of rightful heritage;
Wynneth he noght with wightes false,
Ne with unseled mesures,
Ne borweth of hise neighebores,
But that he may wel paie. 9500
Possessio sine calumnia.
"The ferthe is a fortune
That florissheth the soule,
With sobretee fram alle synne,
And also yit moore
It afaiteth the flessh
Fram folies ful manye,
A collateral confort,
Cristes owene gifte.
Donum Dei. 9510
"The fifte is moder of helthe,
A frend in alle fondynges,
And for the land evere a leche,
A lemman of alle clennesse.
Sanitatis mater.
"The sixte is a path of pees,
Ye, thorugh the paas of Aultone
Poverte myghte passe
Withouten peril of robbyng.
For ther that poverte passeth, 9520
Pees folweth after;
And ever the lasse that he bereth,
The hardier he is of herte.
For-thi seith Seneca,
Paupertas est absque sollicitudine semita[3]
And an hardy man of herte,
Among an heep of theves.
Cantabit paupertas coram latrone
viatore. 9530
"The seventhe is welle of wisedom,
And fewe wordes sheweth;
Therfore lordes alloweth hym litel,
Or listneth to his reson,
For he tempreth the tonge to trutheward,
And no tresor coveiteth
Sapientiæ temperatrix.
"The eightethe is a lele labour,
And looth to take moore
Than he may wel deserve, 9540
In somer or in wynter.
And if he chaffareth, he chargeth no losse,
Mowe he charité wynne.
Negotium sine damno.
"The nynthe is swete to the soule,
No sugre is swetter.
For pacience is payn
For poverte hymselve,
And sobretee swete drynke
And good leche in siknesse. 9550
Thus lered me a lettred man,
For oure Lordes love of hevene;
Seint Austyn a blessed lif
Withouten bisynesse ladde
For body and for soule,
Absque sollicitudine felicitas.
Now God, that alle good gyveth,
Graunte his soule reste
That this first wroot to wissen men
What poverte was to mene!" 9560
"Allas!" quod Haukyn the actif man tho,
"That after my cristendom
I ne hadde be deed and dolven
For Do-welis sake!
So hard it is," quod Haukyn,
"To lyve and to do no synne.
Synne seweth us evere," quod he,
And sory gan wexe,
And wepte water with hise eighen,
And weyled the tyme 9570
That he evere dide dede
That deere God displesed;
Swound and sobbed
And siked ful ofte,
That evere he hadde lond outher lordshipe,
Lasse other moore,
Or maistrie over any man
Mo than of hymselve.
"I were noght worthi, woot God!" quod Haukyn,
"To werien any clothes, 9580
Ne neither sherte ne shoon,
Save for shame one
To covere my careyne," quod he;
And cride mercy faste,
And wepte and wailede;
And therwith I awakede. 9586