What, brother Perseverance? ye be welcome.
Now truly ye be welcome into this country.
Master Pity, one thing is come to my remembrance; What tithings hear you now?
Sir, such as I can I shall show you: I have heard many men complain piteously; They say they be smitten with the swerd of poverty. In every place where I do go: Few friends poverty doth find, And these rich men been unkind; For their neighbours they will nought do, Widows doth curse lords and gentle men, For they constrain them to marry with their men, Yea, whether they will or no: Men marry for good,[113] and that is damnable, Yea, with old women that is fifty and beyond: The peril now no man dread will; All is not God's law that is used in land; Beware will they not, till death in his hand Taketh his sword, and smiteth asunder the life vein, And with his mortal stroke cleaveth the heart atwain: They trust so in mercy, the lantern of brightness, That no thing do they dread God's rightwiseness.
How am I beloved, master Pity, where ye come?
In good faith, people have now small devotion; And as for with you, brother Contemplation, There meddleth few or none.
Why, sir, without me they may not live clean.
Nay, that is the least thought that they have of fifteen; And that maketh me full heavy.
Full hard, for sin is now so grievous and ill, That I think that it be growen to an impossible, And yet one thing maketh me ever mourning: That priests lack utterance to show their cunning; And all the while that clerks do use so great sin, Among the lay people look never for no mending.
Alas, that is a heavy case, That so great sin is used in every place; I pray God it amend.
Now God, that ever hath been man's friend, Some better tidings soon us send! For now I must be gone. Farewell, good brethren here; A great errand I have elsewhere, That must needs be done: I trust I will not long tarry; Thither will I hie me shortly, And come again, when I have done.
Hither again, I trust, you will come; Therefore God be with you.
Sir, needs I must depart now; Jesu me speed this day.
Now, brother Contemplation, let us go our way.
Aware, fellows, and stand a-room: How say you? am not I a goodly person? I trow, you know not such a guest: What, sirs, I tell you, my name is Freewill, I may choose whether I do good or ill; But for all that I will do, as me list: My conditions ye know not, perdè, I can fight, chide, and be merry; Full soon of my company ye would be weary, And ye knew all. What, fill the cup, and make good cheer! I trow I have a noble here: Who lent it me? By Christ, a frere; And I gave him a fall. Where be ye, sir? be ye at home? Cock's passion, my noble is turned to a stone. Where lay I last? Beshrew your heart, John; Now, by these bones, she hath beguiled me: Let see; a penny my supper, a piece of flesh ten-pence; My bed right nought: let all this expense-- Now, by these bones, I have lost a halfpenny. Who lay there? my fellow Imagination; He and I had good communication Of Sir John and Sybil, How they were spied in bed together; And he prayed her oft to come hither, For to sing _lo, le, lo, lowe_. They twain together had good sport; But at the stews' side I lost a groat: I trow I shall never i-the.[114] My fellow promised me here to meet, But I trow the whoreson be asleep With a wench somewhere. How, Imagination, come hither, And you thrive, I lose a feather; Beshrew your heart, appear.