Piers Ploughman (Wright)/Prologue
THE VISION OF PIERS
PLOUGHMAN
THE VISION OF
PIERS PLOUGHMAN.
Whan softe was the sonne,
I shoop me into shroudes
As I a sheep weere,
In habite as an heremite
Unholy of werkes,
Wente wide in this world
Wondres to here;
Ac on a May morwenynge
On Malverne hilles 10
Me bifel a ferly,
Of fairye me thoghte.
I was wery for-wandred,
And wente me to reste
Under a brood bank
By a bournes syde;
And as I lay and lenede,
And loked on the watres,
I slombred into a slepyng,
It sweyed so murye. 20
Thanne gan I meten
A merveillous swevene,
That I was in a wildernesse,
Wiste I nevere where,
And as I biheeld into the eest
An heigh to the sonne,
I seigh a tour on a toft
Trieliche y-maked,
A deep dale bynethe,
A dongeon therinne, 30
With depe diches and derke
And dredfulle of sighte.
A fair feeld ful of folk
Fond I ther bitwene,
Of alle manere of men,
The meene and the riche,
Werchynge and wandrynge,
As the world asketh.
Some putten hem to the plough,
Pleiden ful selde, 40
In settynge and sowynge
Swonken ful harde,
And wonnen that wastours
With glotonye destruyeth.
And somme putten hem to pride,
Apparailed hem therafter,
In contenaunce of clothynge
Comen degised.
In preires and penaunces
Putten hem manye, 50
Al for the love of oure Lord
Lyveden ful streyte,
In hope to have after
Hevene riche blisse;
As ancres and heremites
That holden hem in hire selles,
And coveiten noght in contree
To carien aboute,
For no likerous liflode
Hire likame to plese. 60
And somme chosen chaffare;
Thei cheveden the bettre,
As it semeth to our sight
That swiche men thryveth.
And somme murthes to make,
As mynstralles konne,
And geten gold with hire glee,
Giltles, I leeve.
Ac japeres and jangeleres,
Judas children, 70
Feynen hem fantasies,
And fooles hem maketh,
And han hire wit at wille
To werken, if thei wolde.
That Poul precheth of hem
I wol nat preve it here;
But Qui loquitur turpiloquium
Is Luciferes hyne.
Bidderes and beggeres
Faste aboute yede, 80
With hire belies and hire bagges
Of breed ful y-crammed;
Faiteden for hire foode,
Foughten at the ale.
In glotonye, God woot,
Go thei to bedde,
And risen with ribaudie,
Tho Roberdes knaves;
Sleep and sory sleuthe
Seweth hem evere. 90
Pilgrymes and palmeres
Plighten hem togidere,
For to seken seint Jame,
And seintes at Rome.
They wenten forth in hire wey,
With many wise tales,
And hadden leve to lyen
Al hire lif after.
I seigh somme that seiden
Thei hadde y-sought seintes; 100
To ech a tale that thei tolde
Hire tonge was tempred to lye,
Moore than to seye sooth,
It semed bi hire speche.
Heremytes on an heep
With hoked staves
Wenten to Walsyngham,
And hire wenches after,
Grete lobies and longe
That lothe were to swynke; 110
Clothed hem in copes,
To ben knowen from othere;
And shopen hem heremytes,
Hire ese to have.
I fond there freres,
Alle the foure ordres,
Prechynge the peple
For profit of hemselve;
Glosed the gospel,
As hem good liked; 120
For coveitise of copes,
Construwed it as thei wolde.
Many of thise maistre freres
Now clothen hem at likyng,
For hire moneie and hire marchaundize
Marchen togideres.
For sith charité hath ben chapman,
And chief to shryve lordes,
Manye ferlies han fallen
In a fewe yeres; 130
But holy chirche and hii
Holde bettre togidres,
The mooste meschief on molde
Is mountynge wel faste.
Ther preched a pardoner,
As he a preest were;
Broughte forth a bulle
With many bisshopes seles,
And seide that hymself myghte
Assoillen hem alle, 140
Of falshede, of fastynge,
Of avowes y-broken.
Lewed men leved it wel,
And liked hise wordes;
Comen up knelynge
To kissen hise bulles.
He bouched hem with his brevet,
And blered hire eighen,
And raughte with his rageman
Rynges and broches. 150
Thus thei gyven hire gold
Glotons to kepe,
And leveth in swiche losels
As leccherie haunten.
Were the bisshope y-blessed,
And worth bothe hise eris,
His seel sholde noght be sent
To deceyve the peple.
Ac it is noght by the bisshope
That the boy precheth; 160
For the parisshe preest and the pardoner
Parten the silver,
That the poraille of the parisshe
Sholde have, if thei ne were.
Parsons and parisshe preestes
Pleyned hem to the bisshope,
That hire parisshes weren povere
Sith the pestilence tyme,
To have a licence and leve
At London to dwelle, 170
And syngen ther for symonie;
For silver is swete.
Bisshopes and bachelers,
Bothe maistres and doctours,
That han cure under Crist,
And crownynge in tokene
And signe that thei sholden
Shryven hire parisshens,
Prechen and praye for hem,
And the povere fede, 180
Liggen at Londone
In Lenten and ellis.
Somme serven the kyng,
And his silver tellen
In cheker and in chauncelrie,
Chalangen hise dettes
Of wardes and of wardemotes,
Weyves and streyves.
And somme serven as servauntz
Lordes and ladies, 190
And in stede of stywardes
Sitten and demen;
Hire messe and hire matyns
And many of hire houres
Arn doon un-devoutliche;
Drede is at the laste,
Lest Crist in consistorie
A-corse ful manye.
I perceyved of the power
That Peter hadde to kepe, 200
To bynden and unbynden,
As the book telleth;
How he it lefte with love,
As oure Lord highte,
Amonges foure vertues,
The beste of alle vertues,
That cardinals ben called,
And closynge yates.
There is Crist in his kingdom
To close and to shette, 210
And to opene it to hem,
And hevene blisse shewe.
Ac of the cardinals at court
That kaughte of that name,
And power presumed in hem
A pope to make,
To han that power that Peter hadde,
Impugnen I nelle;
For in love and in lettrure
The election bilongeth, 220
For-thi I kan and kan naught
Of court speke moore.
Thanne kam ther a kyng,
Knyghthod hym ladde,
Might of the communes
Made hym to regne.
And thanne cam kynde wit,
And clerkes he made,
For to counseillen the kyng,
And the commune save. 230
The kyng and knyghthod,
And clergie bothe,
Casten that the commune
Sholde hemself fynde.
The commune contreved
Of kynde wit craftes,
And for profit of al the peple
Plowmen ordeyned,
To tilie and to travaille,
As trewe lif asketh. 240
The kyng and the commune,
And kynde wit the thridde,
Shopen lawe and leauté,
Ech man to knowe his owene.
Thanne loked up a lunatik,
A leene thyng with-alle,
And, knelynge to the kyng,
Clergially he seide:
"Crist kepe thee, sire kyng!
And thi kyng-ryche, 250
And lene thee lede thi lond,
So leauté thee lovye,
And for thi rightful rulyng
Be rewarded in hevene."
And sithen in the eyr an heigh
An aungel of hevene
Lowed to speke in Latyn,
For lewed men ne koude
Jangle ne jugge,
That justifie hem sholde, 260
But suffren and serven;
For-thi seide the aungel:
Sum rex, sum princeps,
Neutrum fortasse deinceps;
O qui jura regis
Christi specialia regis,
Hoc quod agas melius,
Justus es, esto pius.
Nudum jus a te
Vestiri vult pietate; 270
Qualia vis metere,
Talia grana sere.
Si jus nudatur,
Nudo de jure metatur;
Si seritur pietas,
De pietate metas.
Thanne greved hym a goliardeis,
A gloton of wordes,
And to the aungel an heigh
Answerde after: 280
Dum rex a regere
Dicatur nomen habere;
Nomen habet sine re,
Nisi studet jura tenere.
Thanne gan al the commune
Crye in vers of Latyn,
To the kynges counseil;
Construe who so wolde:
Præcepta regis
Sunt nobis vincula legis. 290
With that ran ther a route
Of ratons at ones,
And smale mees myd hem
Mo than a thousand,
And comen to a counseil
For the commune profit;
For a cat of a contree
Cam whan hym liked,
And overleep hem lightliche,
And laughte hem at his wille, 300
And pleide with hem perillousli,
And possed aboute.
"For doute of diverse dredes,
We dar noght wel loke;
And if we grucche of his gamen,
He wol greven us alle,
Cracchen us or clawen us,
And in hise clouches holde,
That us lotheth the lif
Er he late us passe. 310
Mighte we with any wit
His wille withstonde,
We mighte be lordes o-lofte,
And lyven at oure ese."
A raton of renoun,
Moost renable of tonge,
Seide for a sovereyn
Help to hymselve:
"I have y-seyen segges," quod he
"In the cité of Londone, 320
Beren beighes ful brighte
Abouten hire nekkes,
And somme colers of crafty werk;
Uncoupled thei wenten
Bothe in wareyne and in waast
Where hemself liked.
And outher while thei arn ellis-where,
As I here telle;
Were ther a belle on hire beighe,
By Jhesu, as me thynketh, 330
Men myghte witen wher thei wente,
And awey renne!"
"And right so," quod that raton,
"Reson me sheweth,
To bugge a belle of bras,
Or of bright silver,
And knytten it on a coler
For oure commune profit,
Wher he ryt or rest,
Or renneth to pleye; 340
And if hym list for to laike,
Thanne loke we mowen,
And peeren in his presence
The while him pleye liketh:
And, if hym wratheth, be war,
And his way shonye."
Al this route of ratons
To this reson thei assented.
Ac tho the belle was y-brought,
And on the beighe hanged, 350
Ther ne was raton in al the route,
For al the reaume of Fraunce,
That dorste have bounden the belle
About the cattes nekke,
Ne hangen it aboute the cattes hals,
Al Engelond to wynne.
Alle helden hem un-hardy,
And hir counseil feble;
And leten hire labour lost
And al hire longe studie. 360
A mous that muche good
Kouthe, as me thoughte,
Strook forth sternely,
And stood bifore hem alle,
And to the route of ratons
Reherced thise wordes:
"Though we killen the cat,
Yet sholde ther come another
To cacchen us and al oure kynde,
Though we cropen under benches. 370
For-thi I counseille al the commune
To late the cat worthe;
And be we nevere bolde
The belle hym to shewe;
For I herde my sire seyn,
Is seven yeer y-passed,
Ther the cat is a kitone
The court is ful elenge;
That witnesseth holy writ,
Who so wole it rede: 380
Væ terræ ubi puer rex est! etc.
For may no renk ther reste have
For ratons by nyghte;
The while he caccheth conynges,
He coveiteth noght youre caroyne,
But fedeth hym al with venyson:
Defame we hym nevere.
For better is a litel los
Than a long sorwe,
The maze among us alle, 390
Theigh we mysse a sherewe;
For many mennes malt
We mees wolde destruye,
And also ye route of ratons
Rende mennes clothes,
Nere the cat of that court
That can yow over-lepe;
For hadde ye rattes youre wille,
Ye kouthe noght rule yow selve."
"I seye for me," quod the mous, 400
"I se so muchel after,
Shal nevere the cat ne the kiton
By my counseil be greved,
Thorugh carpynge of this coler
That costed me nevere
And though it hadde costned me catel,
Bi-knowen it I nolde,
But suffren, as hymself wolde,
To doon as hym liketh,
Coupled and uncoupled 410
To cacche what thei mowe.
For-thi ech a wis wight I warne,
Wite wel his owene."
What this metels by-meneth,
Ye men that ben murye
Devyne ye, for I ne dar,
By deere God in hevene.
Yet hoved ther an hundred
In howves of selk,
Sergeantz it bi-semed 420
That serveden at the barre,
Pleteden for penyes
And poundes the lawe;
And noght for love of our Lord
Unclose hire lippes ones.
Thow myghtest bettre meete myst
On Malverne hilles,
Than gete a mom of hire mouth,
Til moneie be shewed.
Barons and burgeises, 430
And bonde-men als,
I seigh in this assemblee,
As ye shul here after:
Baksteres and brewesteres,
And bochiers manye;
Wollen webbesters,
And weveres of lynnen,
Taillours and tynkers,
And tollers in markettes,
Masons and mynours, 440
And many othere craftes.
Of alle kynne lybbynge laborers
Lopen forth somme,
As dikeres and delveres,
That doon hire dedes ille,
And dryveth forth the longe day
With Dieu save dame Emme.
Cokes and hire knaves
Cryden, "Hote pies, hote!
Goode gees and grys! 450
Gowe, dyne, gowe!"
Taverners until hem
Trewely tolden the same,
Whit wyn of Oseye,
And reed wyn of Gascoigne,
Of the Ryn and of the Rochel,
The roost to defie.
[Al this I saugh slepynge,
And seve sithes more.] 459