Of trepeget or mangonel;
Without displaying of pensel.
And if god nil don it socour,
But lat hem renne in this colour,
Thou moost thyn heestes laten be.
Than is ther nought, but yelde thee,
Or yeve hem tribute, doutelees,
And holde it of hem to have pees :
But gretter harm bityde thee,
That they al maister of it be.
Wel conne they scorne thee withal;
By day stuffen they the wal,

And al the night they mynen there.
Nay, thou most planten elleswhere
Thyn impes, if thou wolt fruyt have ;
Abyd not there thy-self to save.

6 But now pees

es! here I turne ageyn;
I wol no more of this thing seyn,
If I may passen me herby;
I mighte maken you wery.
But I wol heten you alway
To helpe your freendes what I
So they wollen my company;
For they be shent al-outerly
But-if so falle, that I be

may,

Oft with hem, and they with me.
And eek my lemman mot they serve,
Or they shul not my love deserve.
Forsothe, I am a fals traitour;
God jugged me for a theef trichour;
Forsworn I am, but wel nygh non
Wot of my gyle, til it be don.

Thourgh me hath many oon deth resseyved,

That my treget never aperceyved;

And yit resseyveth, and shal resseyve,

That my falsnesse never aperceyve :

But who-so doth, if he wys be,
Him is right good be war of me.
But so sligh is the deceyving
That to hard is the aperceyving.

For Protheus, that coude him chaunge
In every shap, hoomly and straunge,
Coude never sich gyle ne tresoun
As I; for I com never in toun
Ther-as I mighte knowen be,

Though men me bothe might here and see.
Ful wel I can my clothes chaunge,
Take oon, and make another straunge.
Now am I knight, now chasteleyn;
Now prelat, and now chapeleyn;
Now prest, now clerk, and now forstere;
Now am I maister, now scolere ;
Now monk, now chanoun, now baily ;
What-ever maister man am I.
Now am I prince, now am I page,
And can by herte every langage.
Som-tyme am I hoor and old;
Now am I yong, and stout, and bold;
Now am I Robert, now Robyn ;
Now frere Menour, now Iacobyn;
And with me folweth my loteby,
To don me solas and company,
That hight dame Abstinence-Streyned,
In many a queynt array y-feyned.
Right as it cometh to hir lyking,
I fulfille al hir desiring.

Somtyme a wommans cloth take I;
Now am I mayde, now lady.

Somtyme I am religious;

Now lyk an anker in an hous.

Somtyme am I prioresse,

And now a nonne, and now abbesse;
And go thurgh alle regiouns,

Seking alle religiouns.

But to what ordre that I am sworn,
I take the strawe, and lete the corn;
To blynde folk ther I enhabite,
I axe no-more but hir abite.

What wol ye more? in every wyse,
Right as me list, I me disgyse.

Wel can I bere me under weed;
Unlyk is my word to my deed.
Thus make I in my trappes falle,
Thurgh my pryvileges, alle
That ben in Cristendom alyve.
I may assoile, and I may shryve,
That no prelat may lette me,
Al folk, wher-ever they founde be:
I noot no prelat may don so,
But it the pope be, and no mo,
That made thilk establisshing.
Now is not this a propre thing?
But, were my sleightes aperceyved,
Ne shulde I more been receyved
As I was wont; and wostow why?
For I dide hem a tregetry;
But therof yeve I litel tale,
I have the silver and the male;
So have I preched and eek shriven,
So have I take, so have me yiven,
Thurgh hir foly, husbond and wyf,
That I lede right a joly lyf,
Thurgh simplesse of the prelacye;
They know not al my tregetrye.

'But for as moche as man and wyf
Shuld shewe hir paroche-prest hir lyf
Ones a yeer, as seith the book,
Er any wight his housel took,
Than have I pryvileges large,
That may of moche thing discharge;
For he may seye right thus, pardee :-
"Sir Preest, in shrift I telle it thee,
That he, to whom that I am shriven,
Hath me assoiled, and me yiven
Penaunce soothly, for my sinne,
Which that I fond me gilty inne ;
Ne I ne have never entencioun
To make double confessioun,
Ne reherce eft my shrift to thee;
O shrift is right y-nough to me.

This oughte thee suffyce wel,
Ne be not rebel never-a-del;

For certes, though thou haddest it sworn,
I wot no prest ne prelat born

That may to shrift eft me constreyne.
And if they don, I wol me pleyne;
For I wot where to pleyne wel.
Thou shalt not streyne me a del,
Ne enforce me, ne yit me trouble,
To make my confessioun double.
Ne I have none affeccioun
To have double absolucioun.
The firste is right y-nough to me,
This latter assoiling quyte I thee.
I am unbounde; what mayst thou finde
More of my sinnes me to unbinde?
For he, that might hath in his hond,
Of alle my sinnes me unbond.

And if thou wolt me thus constreyne,
That me mot nedis on thee pleyne,
There shal no jugge imperial,

Ne bisshop, ne official,

Don jugement on me; for I
Shal gon and pleyne me openly
Unto my shrift-fader newe,

(That hight not Frere Wolf untrewe!)
And he shal chevise him for me,

For I trowe he can hampre thee.

But, lord! he wolde be wrooth withalle,
If men him wolde Frere Wolf calle!
For he wolde have no pacience,
But don al cruel vengeaunce!
He wolde his might don at the leest,
Ne no-thing spare for goddes heest.
And, god so wis be my socour,
But thou yeve me my Saviour
At Ester, whan it lyketh me,
Withoute presing more on thee,
I wol forth, and to him goon,
And he shal housel me anoon,

For I am out of thy grucching;
I kepe not dele with thee no-thing."
Thus may he shryve him, that forsaketh
His paroche-prest, and to me taketh.
And if the prest wol him refuse,
I am ful redy him to accuse,
And him punisshe and hampre so,
That he his chirche shal forgo.

'But who-so hath in his feling
The consequence of such shryving,
Shal seen that prest may never have might
To knowe the conscience aright
Of him that is under his cure.
And this ageyns holy scripture,
That biddeth every herde honeste
Have verry knowing of his beste.
But pore folk that goon by strete,
That have no gold, ne sommes grete,
Hem wolde I lete to hir prelates,
Or lete hir prestes knowe hir states,
For to me right nought yeve they.'
And why is it?'

Amour.
F. Sem.
'For they ne may.
They ben so bare, I take no keep;
But I wol have the fatte sheep ;-
Lat parish prestes have the lene,
I yeve not of hir harm a bene!
And if that prelats grucchen it,
That oughten wroth be in hir wit,
To lese her fatte bestes so,

I shal yeve hem a stroke or two,
That they shal lesen with the force,
Ye, bothe hir mytre and hir croce.
Thus jape I hem, and have do longe,
My priveleges been so stronge.'

Fals-Semblant wolde have stinted here,
But Love ne made him no such chere
That he was wery of his sawe;
But for to make him glad and fawe,
He seide:- Tel on more specialy,