Prologue

In a somyr sesoun, whenne I south wente,

I schop me a schroude, as I a schep were.

In abyte as an ermyte unholy of werkys,

Y wente wyde in this worlde, wondrys to hure.

But upon a May morwe on Malverne hyllys

Me byfel a ferly, of fayrye me thoughte.

I was wery forwandred; I wente me to reste

Under a brod banke by a burne syde.

But as I lay and lenede and loked on the waterys,

I slombryd in a slepyng. I swevenede so merye.

Ther gan I to mete a merwelous swovene:

That I was in a wildernysse, I wyste nevere where;

But as I behelde into the este, up to the sunne,

I saw a tour in a coste, tryly ontyrid;

A dep dale bynethe, a doungon therynne,

With depe dykys and derke, dredful of syghth.

A fayr felde ful of folke fonde I bytwene,

Of alle maner of men, the mene and the riche,

Worchynge and wandrynge as this worlde askys:

Somme putte hem to the plow, and pleyde ful selde,

In seed tyme of sowyng swonkyn ful harde

That thes wastourys now wyth glotonye destroyen.

Some putte hem to pride, and paralyde hem therafter:

In countenance of clothing they comyn dysgysed.

To prayere and to penaunce putte hem many,

For the love of oure Lord lyvede ful strayte,

In hope for to have heveneryche blysse,

As ankerys and hermytys that lyven in her cellys,

And coveytyn noughth in the countre to caryen aboute,

For none lykerous lyflode here lykamys to plese.

And somme chosen hem to chaffare: they chevyd the betre,

As it ys sene to oure syghth that suche men thryven.

And summe men myrthes to make, as menstralys cunne,

Gete gold with her gle, synneles, I trowe.

Ac japeris and jangeleres, Judacys chyldryn,

Gon fyndyn meny fantasyes and foles hem makyn,

And han wit at her wille to worche what hem lykys.

That that Poule precheth of hem I dar not provyn here:

Qui loquitur turpiloquium ys Lucyferes hyne.

Beggeres and bydderes faste aboute yede,

Til her belyes and her bagges ware bredful crammed ;

Thei flyteth for her foode, and fyghthen at the ale;

In glotenye, God wot, go thei to bedde,

And rysen up with rybaudye, as robertes knavys;

Sclep and slowthe sewyth hem evere.

Pylgrymys and palmeres plytyth hem togedere

For to seke Seynt Jame and sentes in Rome;

And wente forth in her way with manye wyse talys,

And hadde leve to lye al her lyf after.

Hermytes on an hepe with hokede stavys

Wente to Walsyngham, and her wenches after.

Grete lobyes and longe, loth for to swynke,

Clothed hem in copys to be knowe fro othere;

Schopyn hem ermytes, here ese to have.

Vicars on fele halve fonden hem to done:

Lederes thei be of lovedayes, and with the lawe medle.

I fonde ther the freres, alle the fower orderes,

Prechynge the peple for profyt of here wombys,

Glosede the gospel as hem goud lykede,

For covetyse of copys construd yt as thei wolde.

Many of tho maystres mown clothen hem at lykyng,

For her money and her marchaundyse metyn togederis.

Sythe charite hath be chapman, and chef to shryve lordis,

Fele ferlis han falle in a fewe yerus;

But holy cherche and they holdyn togederys,

The moste myschef of this molde mounteth up faste.

There prechede a pardoner, a prest as though he were,

Broughthe forth bullys wyth busschopys selys,

And seyde hymself myghte asoyle hem alle

Of falsnesse, of fastynge, of avowes brokyn.

The lewde men leved hym wel, and lykyd his speche,

Come knelyng up to kyssyn his bullys;

He blessed hem with his brevet, and blered here eyes,

Raughthe hem with his rageman broches and rynges.

Thus ye geven yore gold glotonys to helpyn,

And lenyn hit loselys that lecherye haunten!

But were the byschop yblessed and worth bothe his erys,

His selys schulde not be sent to disseyve the peple.

I trowe hit be not for the byschop that the boye precheth;

But for the pardoner and the parichesprest departyn the sylver

That the pore scholde departyn that thei ne were.

Parsonys and parrysprestes playnen to her byschop,

That her parryssenys ben pore sithen the pestelens tyme,

To have a lycence and a leve at Londoun to dwelle,

To synge for symonye, for sylver is swete.

Ther hovyd an houndred in howys of sylke,

Serjauntis tho semede, pletede at the barre;

Thei pleted for penys and poundyt the lawe,

Ac non for the love of our Lord opnyd here lyppys .

Thu myghthist beter mete the myst on Malverne hyllys

Than getyn a mum of her mowght tyl monye be schewyd .

I saw ther byschops bolde and bacheleres of dyvyn

Bycome clerkes of acount, the kyng for to serven;

I saw ther archedeknys and denys, that dignyte havyn

To preche the peple and pore men to fede,

They beth lopyn to Loundoun, thorw leve of here byschop,

And beth clerkes of the kynges bench, the cuntre to shynde.

Barounys and burgeysys, and bondeagys alse,

I saw in that symble, as ye schul here herafter.

I saw ther bakesteres and brewesteres, bocheres and kokys,

Wollene webesteres, and weverys of lynene,

Taylowres, taverneres, and tynkeres bothe,

Masounys, mynores, and many other craftys,

As dykeres and delveres, that don here werk ylle,

To dryve forth the longe day with "deusa dammeme."

Cokys and her knawys cryden, "Hote pyes, hote!

Gode gees and grys! Go we dyne, go we!"

Taverneres tolled hem and tolde hem the same,

With "whyt wyn of Oseye, and of Gascoyne,

Of the Ryn and the Rochel, that roost to defye."

This I saw myself, and seven sythes more.