I

6

yow biseke that, of your curteisye, Sin ye han herd this false Frere lye, 1670 As suffereth me I may my tale telle ! This Frere bosteth that he knoweth helle, And god it woot, that it is litel wonder; Freres and feendes been but lyte a-sonder. For pardee, ye han ofte tyme herd telle, How that a frere ravisshed was to helle In spirit ones by a visioun ; (13) 1677 And as an angel ladde him up and doun, To shewen him the peynes that ther were, In al the place saugh he nat a frere; Of other folk he saugh y-nowe in wo. Un-to this angel spak the frere tho :

1680

"Now, sir," quod he, "han freres swich a grace (19) That noon of hem shal come to this place?" "Yis," quod this angel, 64 many a mil1685 And un-to Sathanas he ladde him doun. "And now hath Sathanas," seith he, "a tayl

lioun !"

And comen agayn, as faste as they may gon,

And in his ers they crepten everichon.
He clapte his tayl agayn, and lay ful stille.
This frere, whan he loked hadde his fille
Upon the torments of this sory place, 1701
His spirit god restored of his grace

Un-to his body agayn, and he awook; But natheles, for fere yet he quook, (40) So was the develes ers ay in his minde, That is his heritage of verray kinde. 1706 God save yow alle, save this cursed Frere ;

My prologe wol I ende in this manere.'

Hir freendes soules, as wel olde as yonge,
Ye, whan that they been hastily y-songe;
Nat for to holde a preest joly and gay,
He singeth nat but o masse in a day; (20)
Delivereth out,' quod he, 'anon the soules;
Ful hard it is with fleshhook or with oules
To been y-clawed, or to brenne or bake;
Now spede yow hastily, for Cristes sake.'
And whan this frere had seyd al his
entente,

With qui cum patre forth his wey he wente.

Whan folk in chirche had yeve him what hem leste, 1735

He wente his wey, no lenger wolde he reste,

With scrippe and tipped staf, y-tukked
hye;
(29)

In every hous he gan to poure and prye,
And beggeth mele, and chese, or elles corn.
His felawe hadde a staf tipped with horn,
A peyre of tables al of yvory,
1741
And a poyntel polisshed fetisly,
And wroot the names alwey, as he stood,
Of alle folk that yaf him any good, 1744
Ascaunces that he wolde for hem preye.
'Yeve us a busshel whete, malt, or reye,
A goddes kechil, or a trip of chese,
Or elles what yow list, we may nat chese;
A goddes halfpeny or a masse-peny, (41)
Or yeve us of your brawn, if ye have eny;
A dagon of your blanket, leve dame, 1751
Our suster dere, lo! here I write your name;
Bacon or beef, or swich thing as ye finde.'
A sturdy harlot wente ay hem bihinde,
That was hir hostes man, and bar a sak,
And what men yaf hem, leyde it on his
bak.
1756

And whan that he was out at dore anon,
He planed awey the names everichon (50)
That he biforn had writen in his tables;
He served hem with nyfles and with fables.

Have I up-on this bench faren ful weel, Here have I eten many a mery meel; ' And fro the bench he droof awey the cat, And leyde adoun his potente and his hat, And eek his scrippe, and sette him softe adoun.

1777 His felawe was go walked in-to toun, (70) Forth with his knave, in-to that hostelrye Wher-as he shoop him thilke night to lye.

'O dere maister,' quod this syke man, 'How han ye fare sith that March bigan? I saugh yow noght this fourtenight or more.'

'God woot,' quod he, 'laboured have I ful

And seyd a sermon after my simple wit,
Nat al after the text of holy writ; 1790
For it is hard to yow, as I suppose,
And therfore wol I teche yow al the glose.
Glosinge is a glorious thing, certeyn,
For lettre sleeth, so as we clerkes seyn.
Ther have I taught hem to be charitable,
And spende hir good ther it is resonable,
And ther I saugh our dame; a! wher
is she?'
(89) 1797
'Yond in the yerd I trowe that she be,'
Seyde this man, and she wol come anon.'

6

'Ey, maister! wel-come be ye, by seint John!' 1800 Seyde this wyf, 'how fare ye hertely?' The frere aryseth up ful curteisly, And hir embraceth in his armes narwe, And kiste hir swete, and chirketh as

a sparwe

With his lippes: 'dame,' quod he, 'right weel, 1805 As he that is your servant every deel. Thanked be god, that yow yaf soule and lyf, Yet saugh I nat this day so fair a wyf (100) In al the chirche, god so save me!'

'Ye, god amende defautes, sir,' quod she, Algates wel-come be ye, by my fey!' 1811 'Graunt mercy, dame, this have I founde alwey.

But of your grete goodnesse, by your leve,

I wolde prey yow that ye nat yow greve, I wol with Thomas speke a litel throwe. Thise curats been ful necligent and slowe To grope tendrely a conscience. (109) 1817 In shrift, in preching is my diligence, And studie in Petres wordes, and in Poules. I walke, and fisshe Cristen mennes soules, To yelden Jesu Crist his propre rente; 1821 To sprede his word is set al myn entente.'

'Now, by your leve, o dere sir,' quod she, 'Chydeth him weel, for seinte Trinitee. He is as angry as a pissemyre, Though that he have al that he can

desyre.

1825

I

Have I nat of a capon but the livere,
And of your softe breed nat but a shivere,
And after that a rosted pigges heed, 1841
(But that I nolde no beest for me were

deed),

Thanne hadde I with yow hoomly suffi

saunce.

I am a man of litel sustenaunce.

My spirit hath his fostring in the Bible. The body is ay so redy and penyble 1846 To wake, that my stomak is destroyed. I prey yow, dame, ye be nat anoyed, (140) Though I so freendly yow my conseil shewe; 1849

By god, I wolde nat telle it but a fewe.' 'Now, sir,' quod she, but o word er I go; My child is deed with-inne thise wykes two,

Sone after that ye wente out of this toun.'

'His deeth saugh I by revelacioun,' 1854 Seith this frere, at hoom in our dortour. I dar wel seyn that, er that half an hour After his deeth, I saugh him born to blisse In myn avisioun, so god me wisse!

(150)

So dide our sexteyn and our fermerer, That han been trewe freres fifty yeer; They may now, god be thanked of his lone, 1861

Maken hir jubilee and walke allone.
And up I roos, and al our covent eke,
With many a tere trikling on my cheke,
Withouten noyse or clateringe of belles;
Te deum was our song and no-thing elles,
Save that to Crist I seyde an orisoun,
Thankinge him of his revelacioun. (160)
For sir and dame, trusteth me right weel,
Our orisons been more effectueel, 1870
And more we seen of Cristes secree thinges
Than burel folk, al-though they weren
kinges.

And eek the othere preestes everichon, In-to the temple whan they sholde gon To preye for the peple, and do servyse, They nolden drinken, in no maner wyse, No drinke, which that mighte hem dronke make, (191) 1899

But there in abstinence preye and wake,
Lest that they deyden; tak heed what
I seye.

But they be sobre that for the peple preye,
War that I seye; namore! for it suffyseth.
Our lord Jesu, as holy writ devyseth, 1904
Yaf us ensample of fastinge and preyeres.
Therfor we mendinants, we sely freres,
Been wedded to poverte and continence,
To charitee, humblesse, and abstinence,
To persecucion for right wisnesse, (201) 1909
To wepinge, misericorde, and clennesse.
And therfor may ye see that our preyeres—
I speke of us, we mendinants, we freres-
Ben to the hye god more acceptable
Than youres, with your festes at the table.
Fro Paradys first, if I shal nat lye, 1915
Was man out chaced for his glotonye;
And chaast was man in Paradys, certeyn,
But herkne now, Thomas, what I shal
(210)

seyn.

I ne have no text of it, as I suppose,
But I shall finde it in a maner glose, 1920
That specially our swete lord Jesus
Spak this by freres, whan he seyde thus:
"Blessed be they that povre in spirit

been."

And so forth al the gospel may ye seen, Wher it be lyker our professioun, 1925 Or hirs that swimmen in possessioun.

Fy on hir pompe and on hir glotonye!
And for hir lewednesse I hem diffye. (220)
Me thinketh they ben lyk Jovinian,
Fat as a whale, and walkinge as a swan ;
Al vinolent as botel in the spence. 1931
Hir preyer is of ful gret reverence;
Whan they for soules seye the psalm of
Davit,

Lo, "buf!" they seye,
tavit !"

sours,

I cor meum eruc

Who folweth Cristes gospel and his fore, But we that humble been and chast and pore, 1936 Werkers of goddes word, not auditours? Therfore, right as an hauk up, at a (230) Up springeth in-to their, right so prayeres Of charitable and chaste bisy freres 1940 Maken hir sours to goddes eres two. Thomas! Thomas! so mote I ryde or go, And by that lord that clepid is seint Yve, Nere thou our brother, sholdestou nat thryve! 1944

In our chapitre praye we day and night To Crist, that he thee sende hele and might,

Thy body for to welden hastily.'

'God woot,' quod he, no-thing ther-of fele I;

(240)

As help me Crist, as I, in fewe yeres, 1949
Han spended, up-on dyvers maner freres,
Ful many a pound; yet fare I never the
bet.

Certeyn, my good have I almost biset.
Farwel, my gold! for it is al ago!'

The frere answerde, 'O Thomas, dostow
so?
1954
What nedeth yow diverse freres seche?
What nedeth him that hath a parfit leche
To sechen othere leches in the toun ?
Your inconstance is your confusioun. (250)
Holde ye than me, or elles our covent,
To
praye for yow ben insufficient?
Thomas, that jape nis nat worth a myte;
Your maladye is for we han to lyte.

1960

"A! yif that covent half a quarter otes!" "A! yif that covent four and twenty grotes!"

"A! yif that frere a peny, and lat him go!" 1965

Nay, nay, Thomas! it may no-thing be so.

Thou woldest han our labour al for noght. The hye god, that al this world hath wroght,

Seith that the werkman worthy is his hyre.

Thomas noght of your tresor I desyre
As for my-self, but that al our covent 1975
To
preye for yow is ay so diligent,

And for to builden Cristes owene chirche.
Thomas! if ye wol lernen for to wirche,
Of buildinge up of chirches may ye
finde
(271)

If it be good, in Thomas lyf of Inde. 1980 Ye lye heer, ful of anger and of yre, With which the devel set your herte a-fyre,

And chyden heer this sely innocent, Your wyf, that is so meke and pacient. And therfor, Thomas, trowe me if thee leste, 1985

Ne stryve nat with thy wyf, as for thy beste;

And ber this word awey now, by thy feith, Touchinge this thing, lo, what the wyse

seith:

(280)

"With-in thyn hous ne be thou no leoun; To thy subgits do noon oppressioun ; 1990 Ne make thyne aqueyntances nat to flee." And Thomas, yet eft-sones I charge thee, Be war from hir that in thy bosom slepeth; War fro the serpent that so slyly crepeth Under the gras, and stingeth subtilly. 1995 Be war, my sone, and herkne paciently, That twenty thousand men han lost hir lyves,

For stryving with hir lemmans and hir wyves. (290) Now sith ye han so holy and meke a wyf, What nedeth yow, Thomas, to maken stryf?

2000

Ther nis, y-wis, no serpent so cruel, Whan man tret on his tayl, ne half so fel, As womman is, whan she hath caught

an ire ;

Vengeance is thanne al that they desyre.