No More Learning

And than comaunden they to sleen 7195
Alle tho that with Peter been;
But they shal nevere have that might,
And, god toforn, for stryf to fight,
That they ne shal y-nough [men] finde
That Peters lawe shal have in minde, 7200
And ever holde, and so mayntene,
That at the last it shal be sene
That they shal alle come therto,
For ought that they can speke or do.
And thilke lawe shal not stonde, 7205
That they by Iohan have undirstonde;
But, maugre hem, it shal adoun,
And been brought to confusioun.
But I wol stinte of this matere,
For it is wonder long to here; 7210
But hadde that ilke book endured,
Of better estate I were ensured;
And freendis have I yit, pardee,
That han me set in greet degree.
'Of all this world is emperour 7215
Gyle my fader, the trechour,
And emperesse my moder is,
Maugre the Holy Gost, y-wis.
Our mighty linage and our route
Regneth in every regne aboute; 7220
And wel is worth we [maistres] be,
For al this world governe we,
And can the folk so wel disceyve,
That noon our gyle can perceyve;
And though they doon, they dar not saye; 7225
The sothe dar no wight biwreye.
But he in Cristis wrath him ledeth,
That more than Crist my bretheren dredeth.
He nis no ful good champioun,
That dredith such similacioun; 7230
Nor that for peyne wole refusen
Us to correcten and accusen.
He wol not entremete by right,
Ne have god in his eye-sight,
And therfore god shal him punyce; 7235
But me ne rekketh of no vyce,
Sithen men us loven comunably,
And holden us for so worthy,
That we may folk repreve echoon,
And we nil have repref of noon. 7240
Whom shulden folk worshipen so
But us, that stinten never mo
To patren whyl that folk us see,
Though it not so bihinde hem be?
'And where is more wood folye, 7245
Than to enhaunce chivalrye,
And love noble men and gay,
That Ioly clothis weren alway?
If they be sich folk as they semen,
So clene, as men her clothis demen, 7250
And that her wordis folowe her dede,
It is gret pite, out of drede,
For they wol be noon ypocritis!
Of hem, me thinketh [it] gret spiteis;
I can not love hem on no syde. 7255
But Beggers with these hodes wyde,
With sleighe and pale faces lene,
And greye clothis not ful clene,
But fretted ful of tatarwagges,
And highe shoes, knopped with dagges, 7260
That frouncen lyke a quaile-pype,
Or botes riveling as a gype;
To such folk as I you devyse
Shuld princes and these lordes wyse
Take alle her londes and her thinges, 7265
Bothe werre and pees, in governinges;
To such folk shulde a prince him yive,
That wolde his lyf in honour live.
And if they be not as they seme,
That serven thus the world to queme, 7270
There wolde I dwelle, to disceyve
The folk, for they shal not perceyve.
'But I ne speke in no such wyse,
That men shulde humble abit dispyse,
So that no pryde ther-under be.
7275
No man shulde hate, as thinketh me,
The pore man in sich clothing.
But god ne preiseth him no-thing,
That seith he hath the world forsake,
And hath to worldly glorie him take, 7280
And wol of siche delyces use;
Who may that Begger wel excuse?
That papelard, that him yeldeth so,
And wol to worldly ese go,
And seith that he the world hath left, 7285
And gredily it grypeth eft,
He is the hound, shame is to seyn,
That to his casting goth ageyn.
'But unto you dar I not lye:
But mighte I felen or aspye, 7290
That ye perceyved it no-thing,
Ye shulden have a stark lesing
Right in your hond thus, to biginne,
I nolde it lette for no sinne. '
The god lough at the wonder tho, 7295
And every wight gan laughe also,
And seide:--'Lo here a man aright
For to be trusty to every wight! '
'Fals Semblant,' quod Love, 'sey to me,
Sith I thus have avaunced thee, 7300
That in my court is thy dwelling,
And of ribaudes shall be my king,
Wolt thou wel holden my forwardis? '
_F. Sem. _ 'Ye, sir, from hennes forewardis;
Hadde never your fader herebiforn 7305
Servaunt so trewe, sith he was born. '
_Amour. _ 'That is ayeines al nature. '
_F. Sem. _ 'Sir, put you in that aventure;
For though ye borowes take of me,
The sikerer shal ye never be 7310
For ostages, ne sikirnesse,
Or chartres, for to bere witnesse.
I take your-self to record here,
That men ne may, in no manere,
Teren the wolf out of his hyde, 7315
Til he be [flayn], bak and syde,
Though men him bete and al defyle;
What? wene ye that I wole bigyle?