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6170
I dwelle with hem that proude be,
And fulle of wyles and subtelte;
That worship of this world coveyten,
And grete nedes cunne espleyten;
And goon and gadren greet pitaunces, 6175
And purchace hem the acqueyntaunces
Of men that mighty lyf may leden;
And feyne hem pore, and hem-self feden
With gode morcels delicious,
And drinken good wyn precious, 6180
And preche us povert and distresse,
And fisshen hem-self greet richesse
With wyly nettis that they caste:
It wol come foul out at the laste.
They ben fro clene religioun went; 6185
They make the world an argument
That hath a foul conclusioun.
"I have a robe of religioun,
Than am I al religious:"
This argument is al roignous; 6190
It is not worth a croked brere;
Habit ne maketh monk ne frere,
But clene lyf and devocioun
Maketh gode men of religioun.
Nathelesse, ther can noon answere, 6195
How high that ever his heed he shere
With rasour whetted never so kene,
That Gyle in braunches cut thrittene;
Ther can no wight distincte it so,
That he dar sey a word therto. 6200
'But what herberwe that ever I take,
Or what semblant that ever I make,
I mene but gyle, and folowe that;
For right no mo than Gibbe our cat
[Fro myce and rattes went his wyle], 6205
Ne entende I [not] but to begyle;
Ne no wight may, by my clothing,
Wite with what folk is my dwelling;
Ne by my wordis yet, pardee,
So softe and so plesaunt they be. 6210
Bihold the dedis that I do;
But thou be blind, thou oughtest so;
For, varie hir wordis fro hir dede,
They thenke on gyle, withouten drede,
What maner clothing that they were, 6215
Or what estat that ever they bere,
Lered or lewd, lord or lady,
Knight, squier, burgeis, or bayly. '
Right thus whyl Fals-Semblant sermoneth,
Eftsones Love him aresoneth, 6220
And brak his tale in the speking
As though he had him told lesing;
And seide: 'What, devel, is that I here?
What folk hast thou us nempned here?
May men finde religioun 6225
In worldly habitacioun? '
_F. Sem. _ 'Ye, sir; it foloweth not that they
Shulde lede a wikked lyf, parfey,
Ne not therfore her soules lese,
That hem to worldly clothes chese; 6230
For, certis, it were gret pitee.
Men may in seculer clothes see
Florisshen holy religioun.
Ful many a seynt in feeld and toun,
With many a virgin glorious, 6235
Devout, and ful religious,
Had deyed, that comun clothe ay beren,
Yit seyntes never-the-les they weren.
I coude reken you many a ten;
Ye, wel nigh alle these holy wimmen, 6240
That men in chirchis herie and seke,
Bothe maydens, and these wyves eke,
That baren many a fair child here,
Wered alwey clothis seculere,
And in the same dyden they, 6245
That seyntes weren, and been alwey.
The eleven thousand maydens dere,
That beren in heven hir ciergis clere,
Of which men rede in chirche, and singe,
Were take in seculer clothing, 6250
Whan they resseyved martirdom,
And wonnen heven unto her hoom.
Good herte makith the gode thought;
The clothing yeveth ne reveth nought.
The gode thought and the worching, 6255
That maketh religioun flowring,
Ther lyth the good religioun
Aftir the right entencioun.
'Who-so toke a wethers skin,
And wrapped a gredy wolf therin, 6260
For he shulde go with lambis whyte,
Wenest thou not he wolde hem byte?
Yis! never-the-las, as he were wood,
He wolde hem wery, and drinke the blood;
And wel the rather hem disceyve, 6265
For, sith they coude not perceyve
His treget and his crueltee,
They wolde him folowe, al wolde he flee.
'If ther be wolves of sich hewe
Amonges these apostlis newe, 6270
Thou, holy chirche, thou mayst be wayled!
Sith that thy citee is assayled
Thourgh knightis of thyn owne table,
God wot thy lordship is doutable!
If they enforce [hem] it to winne, 6275
That shulde defende it fro withinne,
Who might defence ayens hem make?
Withouten stroke it mot be take
Of trepeget or mangonel;
Without displaying of pensel. 6280
And if god nil don it socour,
But lat [hem] renne in this colour,
Thou moost thyn heestis laten be.
Than is ther nought, but yelde thee,
Or yeve hem tribute, doutelees, 6285
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, 6290
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.
'But now pees! here I turne ageyn; 6295
I wol no more of this thing seyn,
If I may passen me herby;
I mighte maken you wery.