Piers Ploughman (Wright)/Passus 4

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Passus Quartus de Visione, ut supra.

"
esseth," seith the kyng,       2079

"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,       2090
"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."       2100

"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,       2110
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,       2120
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,       2130
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;       2140
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.       2150

"Thei ne yeveth noght of God
One goose wynge.
Non est timor Dei ante oculos eorum, etc.[1]

"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.       2160
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,       2170
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,       2180
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.       2190
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.       2200
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,       2210
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,       2220
"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,       2230
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;       2240
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;       2250
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,       2260
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,       2270
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;       2280
"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!       2290
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."       2300

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,       2310
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,       2320
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,       2330
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,       2340
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,       2350
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,       2360
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.       2370

"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,       2380
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,       2390
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,       2400
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."       2410

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,       2420
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;       2430
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!       2440
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."       2450

"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;       2460
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."       2472


  1. In Wright's edition each of these lines was printed and counted as two lines