“Lordings there is in Yorkshire, as I guess,
A marsh country y-called Holderness,
In which there went a limitour[26] about
To preach, and eke to beg, it is no doubt.
And so befel that on a day this frere
Had preached at a church in his mannére,
And specially aboven every thing
Excited he the people in his preaching
To trentals,[27] and to give for Goddé’s sake,
Wherewith men mighten holy houses make,
There as divine service is honoured,
Not there as it is wasted and devoured.[28]
‘Trentals,’ said he, ‘deliver from penance
Ther friendés’ soules, as well old as young,
Yea, when that they are speedily y-sung.
Not for to hold a priest jolly and gay,
He singeth not but one mass[29] of a day,
Deliver out,’ quoth he, ‘anon[30] the souls.
Full hard it is, with flesh-hook or with owles
To be y-clawed, or to burn or bake:
Now speed you heartily, for Christé’s sake.’
And when this frere had said all his intent,
With qui cum patre[31] forth his way he went;
When folk in church had given him what they lest
He went his way, no longer would he rest.”
Then he takes his way through the village with his brother friar (it seems to have been the rule for them to go in couples) and a servant after them to carry their sack, begging at every house.
“With scrippe and tipped staff, y-tucked high,
In every house he gan to pore and pry;
And begged meal or cheese, or ellés corn.
His fellow had a staff tipped with horn,
A pair of tables all of ivory,
And a pointel y-polished fetisly,
And wrote always the namés, as he stood,
Of allé folk that gave them any good,
As though that he woulde for them pray.
‘Give us a bushel of wheat, or malt, or rye,
A Goddé’s kichel,[32] or a trippe of cheese;
Or ellés what you list, we may not chese;[33]
A Godde’s halfpenny, or a mass penny,
Or give us of your bran, if ye have any,
A dagon[34] of your blanket, dearé dame,
Our sister dear (lo! here I write your name):
Bacon or beef, or such thing as you find.’
A sturdy harlot[35] went them aye behind,
That was their hosté’s man, and bare a sack,
And what men gave them laid it on his back.
And when that he was out at door, anon
He planed away the names every one,
That he before had written on his tables;
He served them with triffles[36] and with fables.”
At length he comes to a house in which, the goodwife being devôte, he has been accustomed to be hospitably received:—
“So along he went, from house to house, till he
Came to a house where he was wont to be
Refreshed more than in a hundred places.
Sick lay the husbandman whose that the place is;
Bedrid upon a couché low he lay:
‘Deus hic,’ quoth he, ‘O Thomas, friend, good day’
Said this frere, all courteously and soft.
‘Thomas,’ quoth he, ‘God yield[37] it you, full oft
Have I upon this bench fared full well,
Here have I eaten many a merry meal.’
And from the bench he drove away the cat,
And laid adown his potent[38] and his hat,
And eke his scrip, and set himself adown:
His fellow was y-walked into town
Forth with his knave, into that hostlery
Where as he shope him thilké night to lie
‘O deré master,’ quoth this sické man,
‘How have ye fared since that March began?
I saw you not this fourteen night and more.’
‘God wot,’ quoth he, ‘laboured have I full sore;
And specially for thy salvation
Have I sayd many a precious orison,
And for our other friendes, God them bless.
I have this day been at your church at messe,
And said a sermon to my simple wit.
*****
And there I saw our dame. Ah! where is she?’
‘Yonder I trow that in the yard she be,’
Saidé this man, ‘and she will come anon.’
‘Eh master, welcome be ye, by St. John!’
Saide this wife; ‘how fare ye heartily?’
This friar ariseth up full courteously,
And her embraceth in his armés narwe,[39]
And kisseth her sweet, and chirketh as a sparrow
With his lippes: ‘Dame,’ quoth he, ‘right well.
As he that is your servant every deal.[40]
Thanked be God that you gave soul and life,
Yet saw I not this day so fair a wife
In all the churché, God so save me.’
‘Yea, God amendé defaults, sire,’ quoth she:
‘Algates welcome be ye, by my fay.’
‘Graunt mercy, dame; that have I found alway.
But of your great goodness, by your leve,
I wouldé pray you that ye not you grieve,
I will with Thomas speak a little throw;
These curates be so negligent and slow
To searchen tenderly a conscience.
In shrift, in preaching, is my diligence,
And study, on Peter’s words and on Paul’s,
I walk and fishen Christian menne’s souls,
To yield our Lord Jesu his proper rent;
To spread his word is set all mine intent.’
‘Now, by your faith, dere sir,’ quoth she,
‘Chide him well for Seinté Charitee.
He is as angry as a pissemire,’” &c.
Whereupon the friar begins at once to scold the goodman:—
“‘O Thomas, je vous die, Thomas, Thomas,
This maketh the fiend, this must be amended.
Ire is a thing that high God hath defended,[41]
And therefore will I speak a word or two.’
‘Now, master,’ quoth the wife, ‘ere that I go,
What will ye dine? I will go thereabout.’
‘Now, dame,’ quoth he, ‘je vous dis sans doubte,
Have I not of a capon but the liver,
And of your white bread but a shiver,
And after that a roasted piggé’s head
(But I ne would for me no beast were dead),
Then had I with you homely suffisance;
I am a man of little sustenance,
My spirit hath his fostering in the Bible.
My body is aye so ready and so penible
To waken, that my stomach is destroyed.
I pray you, dame, that ye be not annoyed,
Though I so friendly you my counsel shew.
By God! I n’old[42] have told it but a few.’
‘Now, sir,’ quoth she, ‘but one word ere I go.
My child is dead within these weekés two,
Soon after that ye went out of this town.’[43]
‘His death saw I by revelation,’
Said this frere, ‘at home in our dortour.[44]
I dare well say that ere that half an hour
After his death, I saw him borne to blisse
In mine vision, so God me wisse.
So did our sexton and our fermerere,[45]
That have been trué friars fifty year;
They may now, God be thanked of his loan,
Make their jubilee and walke alone.’”[46]
We do not care to continue the blasphemous lies with which he plays upon the mother’s tenderness for her dead babe. At length, addressing the sick goodman, he continues:—
“‘Thomas, Thomas, so might I ride or go,
And by that lord that cleped is St. Ive,
N’ere[47] thou our brother, shouldest thou not thrive,
In our chapter pray we[48] day and night
To Christ that he thee send hele and might[49]
Thy body for to welden hastily.’
‘God wot,’ quoth he, ‘I nothing thereof feel,
So help me Christ, as I in fewé years
Have spended upon divers manner freres
Full many a pound, yet fare I never the bet.’
The frere answered, ‘O Thomas, dost thou so?
What need have you diverse friars to seche?
What needeth him that hath a perfect leech[50]
To seeken other leches in the town?
Your inconstancy is your confusion.
Hold ye then me, or elles our convent,
To pray for you is insufficient?
Thomas, that jape is not worth a mite;
Your malady is for we have too lite.[51]
Ah! give that convent half a quarter of oates;
And give that convent four and twenty groats;
And give that friar a penny and let him go;
Nay, nay, Thomas, it may nothing be so;
What is a farthing worth parted in twelve?’”
And so he takes up the cue the wife had given him, and reads him a long sermon on anger, quoting Seneca, and giving, for instances, Cambyses and Cyrus, and at length urges him to confession. To this—