Piers Plowman The Prologue (B-Text)
I was wery, forwandr{.e}d, and went{.e} me to rest{.e}
Undur a brod banke bi a bourn{.e} sid{.e};
And as I lay and leon{.e}de and lok{.e}de on the watr{.e}s,
I slumbr{.e}de in a slepynge, hit swy{.e}d so muri{.e}.
Thenne gon I meeten a mervelous sweven,
That I was in a wilderness{.e}, wuste I never wher{.e};
And as I beheold into the est an heigh to the sonn{.e},
I sauh a tour on a toft, try{.e}lyche i-maket;
A deop dal{.e} bineoth{.e}, a dungun ther-inn{.e},
With deop dich and derk and dredful of sight{.e}.
A feir feld full of folk fond I ther bitwen{.e},
Of all{.e} maner of men, the mene and the rich{.e},
Worchinge and wandringe as the world asketh. Summ{.e} putten hem to the plough, pleiden ful selden{.e},
In settynge and in sowyng{.e} swonken ful hard{.e},
And wonnen that theos wasturs with glotonye distruen.
And summ{.e} putten hem to pruid{.e}, apparaylden hem ther-after,
In cuntenaunce of clothing{.e} comen disgisid.
To preyer{.e}s and to penaunc{.e} putten hem mony{.e},
For love of ur Lord liv{.e}den ful streit{.e},
In hop{.e} for to hav{.e} hevene-rich{.e} bliss{.e};
As ancr{.e}s and hermyt{.e}s that holdeth hem in heor{.e} cell{.e}s,
Coveyt{.e} not in cuntré to cairen about{.e},
For non likerous lyflod{.e} heor{.e} licam to ples{.e}.
And summ{.e} chosen chaffar{.e} to cheeven the bettr{.e},
As hit semeth to ur{.e} sight{.e} that such{.e} men thryveth;
And summ{.e}, murthh{.e}s to maken as munstrals cunn{.e},
And get{.e} gold with her{.e} gle, giltles, I trow{.e}.
Bote japers and jangelers, Judas children,
Founden hem fantasy{.e}s and fool{.e}s hem maaden,
And habbeth wit at heor{.e} will{.e} to worchen yif hem lust{.e}.
That Poul precheth of hem, I dar not preoven heer{.e};
Qui loquitur turpiloquium he is Lucifer{.e}s hyn{.e}.
Bidders and beggers faste aboute eoden,
Til heor bagg{.e}s and heore balies weren bretful i-crommet;
Feyneden hem for heor{.e} food{.e}, foughten att{.e} al{.e};
In glotony{.e}, God wot, gon heo to bedd{.e},
And ryseth up with ribaudy{.e} this roberd{.e}s knav{.e}s;
Sleep and sleughth{.e} suweth hem ever{.e}. Ther prechede a pardoner, as he a prest wer{.e},
And brought forth a bull{.e} with bisschop{.e}s sel{.e}s,
And seid{.e} that himself might{.e} asoylen hem all{.e}
Of falsnesse and fastinge and of vouw{.e}s i-broken.
The lewed{.e} men levide him wel and lik{.e}de his spech{.e},
And comen up knelyng{.e} to kissen his bull{.e};
He bonch{.e}de hem with his brevet and bler{.e}d heore eiyen,
And raught{.e} with his rag{.e}mon ring{.e}s and broch{.e}s.
Thus ye yiveth our{.e} gold glotonis to helpen!
And leveth hit to losels that lecherie haunten.
Weor{.e} the bisschop i-blesset and worth bothe his er{.e}s,
His sel shulde not be sent to deceyv{.e} the pepl{.e}.
It is not al bi the bisschop that the boy{.e} precheth,
Bote the parisch prest and the pardoner part{.e} the selver
That the por{.e} peple of the parisch schulde have yif that heo ne weor{.e},
Person{.e}s and parisch prest{.e}s playneth to heor{.e} bisschops,
That heor{.e} parisch hath ben por{.e} sethth{.e} the pestilenc{.e} tym{.e},
To have a lycence and lev{.e} at Londun to dwell{.e},
To sing{.e} ther for simony{.e}, for selver is swet{.e}. Barouns and burgeis and bond{.e}-men also
I saugh in that semblé, as ye schul heren aftur,
Bakers, bochers, and breusters mony{.e},
Wollen{.e}-websteris, and weveris of lynen,
Taillours, tanneris, and tokkeris both{.e},
Masons, minours, and mony other craft{.e}s,
Dykers, and delvers, that don heor{.e} ded{.e}s ill{.e},
And driveth forth the long{.e} day with "Deu vous sav{.e}, Dam Emm{.e}!"
Cook{.e}s and heor{.e} knav{.e}s cryen "Hot{.e} pi{.e}s, hot{.e}!
"Good{.e} gees and grys! Go we dyn{.e}, go we!"
Taverners to hem told{.e} the sam{.e} tal{.e},
With wyn of Osey{.e} and win of Gaskoyn{.e},
Of the Ryn and of the Rochel, the rost to defy{.e},
Al this I saugh slepynge and sev{.e} sith{.e}s mor{.e}.