After this took the host halberts and pikes, and ran with a company unto the parsonage. And when the parson beheld it, he cried aloud, and assembled his neighbours, and said unto them: “Do you, I charge ye, help me against this madman, who of an evil demon is sore possessed.” And the host said unto him: “Priest, remember thy surety, and do now pay me.” But the priest stood and blessed himself, and payed not at all. Then would the host have with a goodly staff stricken the priest, but that the boors came and parted the twain with great difficulty. But, so long as the host lived, he was ever seeking payment from the priest; and the priest affirmed that he had an evil spirit, and of that would he free him, but of money owed he unto him not a doit.
Thus fell out the end of the excellent adventure of Owlglass with the blind men, the host, and the parson.
The Eighty and Fourth Adventure.
How that in a city of Saxony Owlglass sowed knaves.
Knaves abound in many places; there be knaves of every degree: there be black knaves, white knaves, copper-coloured knaves, red knaves, and yellow knaves. There be knaves which ride in coaches and waggons; there be knaves on horseback; there be knaves on foot. There be knaves of high degree; there be knaves of low estate. There be knaves in Holy Church, devout knaves, which cheat heaven in their prayers, and earth in their tithes; there be knaves out of Holy Church, which, for wise reasons, do simulate a contempt thereof; there be knaves which buy, and there be knaves which sell; there be knaves which, with honest mien, declare themselves no better than they be, for thou in thy vanity condemnest them not, but thinkest them better than their speech declareth, and yet be these very knaves, sorry knaves, and shallow knaves. There be knaves which bear rule, and there be knaves over which rule is borne; there be knaves which bow the knee to knavish kings, princes, and lords; and there be knaves which set foot forth against all rulers, princes, and governors. There be knaves which help ye with seeming good fellowship, and there be knaves which, by opposing ye, do ye true service; there be knaves which amuse ye; there be knaves which laugh in turn at that which ye do: lo! indeed, not in this world can ye find any place which is devoid of knaves, creeping like caterpillars through your gardens, and destroying your fairest flowers, to fatten and batten, and crawl and die like other things.
Knaves sit smiling by your own hearthstone, deluding ye with love and fair service—your children be knaves, your fathers were knaves;—for in this world are secrets hidden—and, indeed, are we unto ourselves not true, but knaves altogether, excusing, palliating, concealing, hugging, with not a little fear and trembling, our favourite vices, or our evil desires. O what a discourse of knavery would a history of our mad world be, what quaking terrors of evil doings, what fierce self-destructions, what insane flight from self-condemning would be unfolded! Let us rejoice, my masters, that a little spice of honesty leaveneth the whole lump and maketh life endurable, our meat not poison, our porridge not altogether rat’s-bane. And truly this chronicle affirmeth, averreth, and with loud voice saith, that an if such words as these had been set down in courteous phrase, and not hurled from the priest’s pulpit or babbled from the fool’s booth, ye had not received, but had denied utterly the gracious assent which I do perceive sitteth upon your heart; thus, therefore, like all other things, is this chronicle but a knavish matter.
Of a truth, it may be most certainly believed, that to such a world it was necessary and fit, that a pitying eye and brain should see, and purpose despatch, from highest heaven to insulted earth a Prince of peace and justice. But in this chronicle, as in this world, is all honesty discarded; for the world is so turned topside t’ other way, that it may not be that we should distinguish gentle from simple, wise from foolish, honest man from knave. “Yet be of good cheer,” saith One who is higher than any of us; “I have overcome the world.”
Yet in one little town of Saxony espied Owlglass, when that he was therein, that not within its walls there could be a knave; yet might this be, for that he was strange unto the devices and nature of the folk which dwelt therein; and he fell into a deep contemplation and musing upon such a marvellous matter. And he took his way beside of the river Weser, the more at ease to reflect thereover. For while that he abode in that city, beheld he all that was done by the folk therein; and so strangely honest appeared their dealings, that he was tired and sick at heart with folk among whom he could not have any profit. And as he took his way along the bank of the Weser, he looked, and, behold! of pebbles shiny and clear, rolled in mass by the stream, was there a goodly heap; and he bethought how that of old some wondrous one did, by casting stones over his shoulders, produce men and women, the which in knavery excelled greatly. “Nay,” quoth he thereat; “why should not in this place a like marvel happen?” and with no more ado, he catcheth me up a sackful of these so shining stones, and entereth with great joy and content into the city.
Then in that street which is hard by over against the town-house, he beginneth to sow his crop of marvellous nature; but the people came running unto him and inquired of him, and fain would know what it might be that he was doing. “Why,” quoth noble Master Owlglass, “in this town here be ye so woundily honest, that for fear ye should be altogether without praise for your virtue, I sow ye a crop of knaves.” With that, my masters, ye should have heard the outcry and hallabaloo which the burghers did make. “Nay, nay!” they cried, “this city be, indeed, so crammed with an abundance of knaves that an if ye sow not honest folk, we shall surely perish.” But Owlglass said: “That may not be, for in this town have grown virtues so long that ye must change the crop, or let the ground be for awhile fallow.” Then they laid hands upon him and took him, and bade him answer his deeds before the town council. And the town council admonished him, and would have none of his crop, and bade him therewith carry his seed-sack out of their bounds. So Owlglass gat him forth, and entered into another city; but the fame of what he bare had been noised abroad, and so entirely did they detest knavery, and loathe cheats, that neither to eat nor to drink nor to tarry for rest would they permit Owlglass. Aweary of such ware, at last he entered into a ship, and would have departed by water, but the seed brake the bottom through, and he was nigh drowned; so into the River Weser returned the stones he had taken; and unto this day, whenever that any man is seized of great virtue, they give unto him water of the Weser to drink, the which strangely promoteth chousing, coney-catching, and gulling.
Thus endeth a great feat of our modern Deucalion.