THE FRERES PROLOGUE.

THIS worthy limitour, this noble Frere, He made alway a manere louring chere Upon the Sompnour, but for honestee No vilains word as yet to him spake he: But at the last he said unto the wif;

Ye have here touched, all so mote I the,
In scole matere a ful gret difficultee.
Ye han said mochel thing right wel, I say:
But, dame, here as we riden by the way,
Us nedeth not to speken but of game,
And let auctoritees in Goddes name
To preching, and to sċole eke of clergie.
"But if it like unto this compagnic,
I wol you of a sompnour tell a game;
Parde ye may wel knowen by the name,
That of sompnour may no good be said;
I pray that non of you be evil apaid;
A sompnour is a renner up and doun
With mandements for fornicatioun,
And is ybete at every tounes ende."

Tho spake our Hoste; "A, sire, ye shuld ben hende
And curteis, as a man of your estat,
In compagnie we wiln have no debat:
Telleth your tale, and let the sompnour be."
"Nay," quod the Sompnour, " let him say by me
What so him list; whan it cometh to my lot,
By God I shal him quiten every grot.

I shal him tellen which a gret honour

It is to be a flatering limitour,

And eke of many another maner crime,
Which nedeth not rehersen at this time,
And his office I shal him tell ywis."

Our Hoste answered; "Pees, no more of this."
And afterward he said unto the Frere,
Tell forth your tale, min owen maister dere.

THE FRERES TALE.

WHILOM ther was dwelling in my contree
An archedeken, a man of high degree,
That boldely did execution

In punishing of fornication,

Of witchecraft, and eke of bauderie,

Of defamation, and avouterie,

Of chirche-reves, and of testaments,
Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments,

Of usure, and of simonie also;

But certes lechoures did he gretest wo;
They shulden singen, if that they were hent;
And smale titheres weren foule yshent,
If any persone wold upon hem plaine,
Ther might astert hem no pecunial peine.
For smale tithes, and smale offering,
He made the peple pitously to sing;
For er the bishop hent hem with his crook
They weren in the archedekens book;
Than had he thurgh his jurisdiction
Power to don on hem correction.

He had a sompnour redy to his hond,
A slier boy was non in Englelond;
For subtilly he had his espiaille,

That taught him wel wher it might ought availle.
He coude spare of lechours on or two,

To techen him to foure and twenty me.

Now telleth forth, and let the Sompnour gale,
Ne spareth not, min owen maister dere."

This false theef, this sompnour, quod the Frere, Had alway baudes redy to his hond,

As any hauke to lure in Englelond,

That told him all the secree that they knewe,
For hir acquaintance was not come of newe;
They weren his approvers prively.

He tooke himself a gret profit therby:
His maister knew not alway what he wan.
Withouten mandement, a lewed man

He coude sompne, up peine of Cristes curse,
And they were inly glad to fille his purse,
And maken him gret festes at the nale.
And right as Judas hadde purses smale
And was a theef, right swiche a theef was he,
His master hadde but half his duetee.
He was (if I shal yeven him his laud)
A theef, and eke a sompnour, and a baud.
He had eke wenches at his retenue,
That whether that sire Robert or sire Hue,
Or Jakke, or Rauf, or who so that it were
That lay by hem, they told it in his ere.
Thus was the wenche and he of on assent.
And he wold fecche a feined mandement,
And sompne hem to the chapitre bothe two,
And pill the man, and let the wenche go..
Than wold he say; "Frend, I shal for thy sake
Do strike thee out of oure lettres blake;
Thee thar no more as in this cas travaille;
I am thy frend ther I may thee availle."
Certain he knew of briboures many mo,
Than possible is to tell in yeres two:
For in this world n'is dogge for the bowe,
That can an hurt dere from an hole yknowe,
Bet than this sompnour knew a slie lechour,
Or an avoutrer, or a paramour :

And for that was the fruit of all his rent,
Therfore on it he set all his entent.

And so befell, that ones on a day
This sompnour, waiting ever on his pray,
Rode forth to sompne a widewe an olde ribibe,
Feining a cause, for he wold han a bribe.

And happed that he saw beform him ride

A gay yeman under a forest side:

A bow he bare, and arwes bright and kene,
He had upon a courtepy of grene,

An hat upon his hed with frenges blake. [atake.”
"Sire," quod this sompnour, "haile and wel
"Welcome," quod he, "and every good felaw;
Whider ridest thou under this grene shaw ?”
(Saide this yeman) "wolt thou fer to-day?"
This somphour him answerd, and saide, “ Nay.
Here fast by" (quod he) "is min entent
To riden, for to reisen up a rent,
That longeth to my lordes duetee."

"A, art thou than a baillif?" "Ye," quod he. (He dorste not for veray filth and shame

Say that he was a sompnour, for the name.)

“De par dieux,” quod this yeman, "leve brother, Thou art a baillif, and I am another.

And right at entring of the tounes ende,
To which this sompnour shope him for to wende,
They saw a cart, that charged was with hay,
Which that a carter drove forth on his way.
Depe was the way, for which the carte stood:
The carter smote, and cried as he were wood,
"Heit scot, heit brok, what, spare ye for the stones?
The fend," quod he, "you fecche body and bones,
As ferforthly as ever ye were foled,

So mochel wo as I have with you tholed.

The devil have al, bothe hors, and cart, and hay."
The sompnoursayde, "Here shal we have a pray;"
And nere the fend he drow, as nought ne were,
Ful prively, and rouned in his ere:

"Herken my brother, herken, by thy faith,
Herest thou not, how that the carter saith?
Hent it anon, for he hath yeve it thee,
Both hay and cart, and eke his caples three."

Nay," quod the devil, “God wot, never a del, It is not his entente, trust thou me wel, Axe him thyself, if thou not trowest me, Or elles stint a while and thou shalt see." This carter thakketh his hors upon the croupe, And they begonne to drawen and to stoupe. "Heit now," quod he, "ther Jesu Crist you blesse, And all his hondes werk, both more and lesse: That was wel twight, min owen liard boy, I pray God save thy body and Seint Eloy. Now is my cart out of the slough parde.'

66

Lo, brother," quod the fend, "what told I thee? Here may ye seen, miu owen dere brother, The cherl spake o thing, but he thought another. Let us go forth abouten our viage; Here win I nothing upon this cariage."

Whan that they comen somwhat out of toun,
This sompnour to his brother gan to roune;
"Brother," quod he, "here woneth an old rebekke,
That had almost as lefe to lese hire nekke,
As for to yeve a peny of hire good.

I wol have twelf pens though that she be wood,
Or I wol somone hire to our office;
And yet, God wot, of hire know I no vice.
But for thou canst not, as in this contree,
Winnen thy cost, take here ensample of me.”

This sompnour clappeth at the widewes gate; "Come out," he sayd, "thou olde very trate; I trow thou hast som frere or preest with thee." "Who clappeth?" said this wife, "Benedicite, "God save you, sire, what is your swete will?” "I have," quod he, "of somons here a bill. Up peine of cursing, loke that thou be To-morwe before the archedekenes knee, To answere to the court, of certain thinges." "Now, Lord," quod she, "Crist Jesu, king of So wisly helpe me, as I ne may. [kinges,

I have ben sike, and that ful many a day.
I may not go so fer," quod she, "ne ride,

But I be ded, so priketh it in my side.

May I not axe a libel, sire sompnour,

Ne have I not twelf pens within my hold.
Ye knowen wel that I am poure and old;
Kithe your almesse upon me poure wretche."

"Nay than," quod he," the foule fend me fetche, If I thee excuse, though thou shuldest be spilt." "Alas!" quod she, “God wot, I have no gilt." "Pay me," quod he, "or by the swete Seinte Anne As I wol bere away thy newe panne

For dette, which thou owest me of old,
Whan that thou madest thyn husbond cokewold,
I paied at home for thy correction."

"Thou liest," quod she, "by my salvation,
Ne was I never or now, widew ne wif,
Sompned unto your court in all my lif;
Ne never I n'as but of my body trewe.
Unto the devil rough and blake of hewe
Yeve I thy body and my panne also."

And whan the devil herd hire cursen so
Upon hire knees, he sayd in this manere;
Now, Mabily, min owen moder dere,
Is this your will in ernest that ye sey?"

"The devil," quod she, "so fetche him or he dey, And panne and all, but he wol him repent."

"Nay, olde stot, that is not min entent,"
Quod this sompnour, " for to repenten me
For any thing that I have had of thee;
I wold I had thy smok and every cloth."

"Now brother," quod the devil, “be not wroth;
Thy body and this panne ben min by right.
Thou shalt with me to Helle yet to-night,
Wher thou shalt knowen of our privetee
More than a maister of divinitee."

And with that word the foule fend him hent.
Body and soule, he with the devil went,
Wher as thise sompnours han hir heritage;
And God that maked after his image
Mankinde, save and gide us all and some,
And lene this sompnour good man to become.

"Lordings, I coude have told you," quod this
"Had I had leiser for this Sompnour here, [Frere,
After the text of Crist, and Poule, and John,
And of oure other doctours many on,
Swiche peines, that your hertes might agrise,
Al be it so, that no tonge may devise,
Though that I might a thousand winter telle,
The peines of thilke cursed hous of Helle.
But for to kepe us fro that cursed place,
Waketh, and prayeth Jesu of his grace,
So kepe us fro the temptour Sathanas.
Herkneth this word, beware as in this cas.
The leon sit in his awaite alway

To sle the innocent, if that he may.
Disposeth ay your hertes to withstond
The fend, that you wold maken thral and bond;
He may not tempten you over your might,
For Crist wol be your champion and your knight;
And prayeth, that this Sompnour him repent
Of his misdedes, or that the fend him bent."

As suffereth me I may my tale telle.
"This frere bosteth that he knoweth Helle,
And, God it wet, that is but litel wonder,
Freres and fendes ben but litel asonder.
"For parde, ye han often time herd telle,
How that a frere ravished was to Helle
In spirit ones by a visioun,

And as an angel lad him up and doun,
To shewen him the peines that ther were,
In all the place saw he not a frere,
Of other folk he saw ynow in wo.

"Unto this angel spake the frere tho; "Now, sire,' quod he, han freres swiche a grace, That non of hem shal comen in this place?'

"Yes,' quoth this angel, many a millioun :' And unto Sathanas he lad him doun. 'And now hath Sathanas,' saith he, 'a tayl Broder than of a carrike is the sayl? Hold up thy tayl, thou Sathanas' quod he, 'Shew forth thin ers, and let the frere see Wher is the nest of freres in this place.' And er than half a furlong way of space, Right so as bees out swarmen of an hive, Out of the devils ers ther gonnen drive A twenty thousand freres on a route.

And thurghout Hell they swarmed al aboute,
And com agen, as fast as they may gon,
And in his ers they crepen everich on:
He clapt his tayl agen, and lay ful still.
"This frere, whan he loked had his fill
Upon the turments of this sory place,
His spirit God restored of his grace
Into his body agen, and he awoke;
But natheles for fere yet he quoke,
So was the devils ers ay in his mind,
That is his heritage of veray kind.

"God save you alle, save this cursed Frere ; My prologue wol I end in this manere."

THE

SOMPNOURES TALE.

LORDINGS, ther is in Yorkshire, as I gesse, A mersh contree ycalled Holdernesse, In which ther went a limitour aboute To preche, and eke to beg, it is no doute. And so befell that on a day this frere Had preched at a chirche in his manere, And specially aboven every thing Excited he the peple in his preching To trentals, and to yeve for Goddes sake, Wherwith men mighten holy houses make, Ther as divine service is honoured, Not ther as it is wasted and devoured, Ne ther it nedeth not for to be yeven, As to possessioners, that mowen leven (Thanked be God) in wele and abundance. "Trentals," sayd he, "deliveren fro penance Hir frendes soules, as wel olde as yonge, Ye, whan that they ben hastily ysonge, Not for to hold a preest jolif and gay, He singeth not but o masse on a day. Delivereth out," quod he, "anon the soules. Ful hard it is, with fleshhook or with oules To ben yclawed, or to bren or bake: Now spede you hastily for Cristes sake."

And whan this frere had said all his entent, With qui cum patre forth his way he went.

Whan folk in chirche had yeve him what hem lest,
He went his way, no lenger wold he rest,
With scrippe and tipped staf, ytucked hie:
In every hous he gan to pore and prie,
And begged mele and chese, or elles corn.
His felaw had a staf tipped with horn,
A pair of tables all of ivory,
And a pointel ypolished fetisly,
And wrote alway the names, as he stood,
Of alle folk that yave hem any good,
Askaunce that he wolde for hem preye.

Yeve us a bushel whete, or malt, or reye,
A Goddes kichel, or a trippe of chese,
Or elles what you list, we may not chese;
A Goddes halfpeny, or a masse peny;
Or yeve us of your braun, if ye have any,
A dagon of your blanket, leve dame,
Our suster dere, (lo here I write your name)
Bacon or beef, or swiche thing as ye find."

A sturdy harlot went hem ay behind,
That was hir hostes man, and bare a sakke,
And what men yave hem, laid it on his bakke.
And whan that he was out at dore, anon
He planed away the names everich on,
That he before had written in his tables:

He served hem with nifles and with fables. [Frere. "Nay, ther thou liest, thou Sompnour," quod the "Pees," quod our Hoste, " for Cristes moder dere, Tell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all."

"So thrive I," quod this Sompnour, “so I shall.” So long he went fro hous to hous, til he Came to an hous, ther he was wont to be Refreshed more than in a hundred places, Sike lay the husbond man, whos that the place is, Bedred upon a couche low he lay: "Deus hic," quod he," O Thomas, frend, good day," Sayde this frere all curtisly and soft. "Thomas," quod he, “God yelde it you, ful oft Have I upon this benche faren ful wele, Here have I eten many a mery mele." And fro the benche he drove away the cat, And laied adoun his potent and his hat, And eke his scrip, and set himself adoun: His felaw was ywalked into toun Forth with his knave, into that hostelrie, Wher as he shope him thilke night to lie.

"O dere maister," quod this sike man, "How have ye faren sin that March began? I saw you not this fourtene night and more." "God wot," quod he, “laboured have I ful sore, And specially for thy salvation

Have I sayd many a precious orison,

And for our other frendes, God hem blesse.

I have this day ben at your chirche at messe,

And said a sermon to my simple wit,
Not all after the text of holy writ,
For it is hard to you, as I suppose,

And therefore wol I teche you ay the glose.
Glosing is a ful glorious thing certain,
For letter sleth, so as we clerkes sain.
Ther have I taught hem to be charitable,
And spend hir good ther it is resonable.
And ther I saw our dame, a, wher is she?"

"Yonder I trow that in the yard she be,"
Sayde this man, " and she wol come anon.'
"Ey maister, welcome be ye by Seint John,"
Sayde this wif, "how fare ye hertily ?"

This frere ariseth up ful curtisly, And hire embraceth in his armes narwe, And kisseth hire swete, and chirketh as a sparwe .

With his lippes: "Dame," quod he, "right wel,
As he that is your servant every del.
Thanked be God, that you yaf soule and lif,
Yet saw I not this day so faire a wif
In all the chirche, God so save me."

"Ye, God amende defautes, sire," quod she, "Algates welcome be ye, by my fay."

"Grand mercy, dame, that have I found alway. But of your grete goodnesse, by your leve, I wolde pray you that ye not you greve, I wol with Thomas speke a litel throw: Thise curates ben so negligent and slow To gropen tendrely a conscience. In shrift, in preching is my diligence And study, in Peters wordes and in Poules, I walke and fishe Cristen mennes soules, To yeld our Lord Jesu his propre rent; To sprede his word is sette all min entent."

"Now by your faith, o dere sire," quod she,
"Chideth him wel for Seinte Charitee.
He is ay angry as is a pissemire,

Though that he have all that he can desire,
Though I him wrie a-night, and make him warm,
And over him lay my leg and eke min arm,
He groneth as our bore, lith in our stie :
Other disport of him right non have I,
I may not plese him in no maner cas.

"O Thomas, jeo vous die, Thomas, Thomas,
This maketh the fend, this muste ben amended.
Ire is a thing that high God hath defended,
And therof wol I speke a word or two.”

"Now, maister," quod the wif, "er that I go, What wol ye dine? I wol go theraboute."

"Now, dame," quod he, "jeo vous die sanz doute, Have I nat of a capon but the liver, And of your white bred nat but a shiver, And after that a rosted pigges hed, (But I ne wolde for me no beest were ded) Than had I with you homly suffisance.

I am a man of litel sustenance.
My spirit hath his fostring in the Bible.
My body is ay so redy and so penible
To waken that my stomak is destroied.

I pray you, dame, that ye be nought annoied,
Though I so frendly you my conseil shewe;
By God I n'old have told it but a fewe."
"Now, sire," quod she, "but o word er I go.
My child is ded within thise wekes two,
Sone after that ye went out of this toun.

"His deth saw I by revelatioun,"
Sayde this frere," at home in our dortour.
I dare wel sain, that er than half an hour
After his deth, I saw him borne to blisse
In min avision, so God me wisse.
So did our sextein, and our fermerere,
That han ben trewe freres fifty yere;
They may now, God be thanked of his lone,
Maken hir jubilee, and walke alone.
And up I arose, and all our covent eke,
With many a tere trilling on our cheke,
Withouten noise or clatering of belles,
Te deum was our song, and nothing elles,
Save that to Crist I bade an orison,
Thanking him of my revelation,

For, sire and dame, trusteth me right wel,
Our orisons ben more effectuel,

And more we seen of Cristes secree thinges,
Than borel folk, although that they be kinges.
We live in poverte, and in abstinence,
And borel folk in richesse and dispence

Of mete and drinke, and in hir foule delit.
We han this worldes lust all in despit.
Lazar and Dives liveden diversely,
And divers guerdon hadden they therby.
Who so wol pray, he must fast and be clene,
And fat his soule, and make his body lene.
We fare, as sayth the apostle; cloth and food
Sufficeth us, though they be not ful good.
The clenenesse and the fasting of us freres,
Maketh that Crist accepteth our praieres.

"Lo, Moises forty daies and forty night
Fasted, er that the high God ful of might
Spake with him in the mountagne of Sinay :
With empty wombe of fasting many a day,
Received he the lawe, that was writen
With Goddes finger; and Eli, wel ye witen,
In mount Oreb, er he had any speche
With highe God, that is our lives leche,
He fasted long, and was in contemplance.

"Aaron, that had the temple in governance,
And eke the other preestes everich on,
Into the temple whan they shulden gon
To praien for the peple, and do servise,
They n'olden drinken in no maner wise

No drinke, which that might hem dronken make,
But ther in abstinence pray and wake,
Lest that they deiden: take heed what I say-
But they be sobre that for the peple pray-
Ware that I say-no more: for it sufficeth.
Our Lord Jesu, as holy writ deviseth,
Yave us ensample of fasting and praieres:
Therfore we mendiants, we sely freres,
Ben wedded to poverte and continence,
To charitee, humblesse, and abstinence,
To persecution for rightwisnesse,

To weping, misericorde, and to clenenesse.
And therfore may ye see that our praieres
(I speke of us, we mendiants, we freres)
Ben to the highe God more acceptable
Than youres, with your festes at your table.
"Fro Paradis first, if I shal not lie,
Was man out chased for his glotonie,
And chast was man in Paradis certain.
But herken now, Thomas, what I shal sain,
I have no text of it, as I suppose,
But I shal find it in a maner glose;
That specially our swete Lord Jesus
Spake this by freres, whan he sayde thus,
Blessed be they that poure in spirit ben.
And so forth all the gospel may ye sen,
Whether it be liker our profession,
Or hirs that swimmen in possession,
Fie on hir pompe, and on hir glotonie,
And on hir lewednesse: I hem defie.
Me thinketh they ben like Jovinian,
Fat as a whale, and walken as a swan;
Al vinolent as botel in the spence;
Hir praier is of ful gret reverence;
Whan they for soules say the Psalm of Davit,
Lo, buf they say, Cor meum eructavit.

"Who foloweth Cristes gospel and his lore
But we, that humble ben, and chast, and pore,
Workers of Goddes word, not auditours?
Therfore right as an hauke upon a sours
Up springeth into the aire, right so praieres
Of charitable and chast besy freres,
Maken hir sours to Goddes eres two.
Thomas, Thomas, so mote I ride or go,
And by that lord that cleped is Seint Ive,

N'ere thou our broder, shuldest thou not thrive.