And show him such love that at last he must laugh.
Such measures will melt him or he must be blind!
But it’s senseless to proceed the same with your friends
150 For true love awaits and wants no reward.
Natural love longs for acknowledgement alone,
Expressed in the power of the Paschal words.’”
He showed us a seal round his neck and said,
“I bear those about me, embracing Do-well
155 In this seal of Saturday, the holiest sabbath,
With the wisdom of the Wednesday in the week that followed,
And the might of all Easter at the mid-point of the moon.
With this amulet I’m welcome wherever I am.”16
“Undo it,” said Conscience. “Let the Doctor declare
160 Whether Do-well is in it; for by heaven if he is,
No mischance or mischief, no malice in speech,
No cold or care or company of thieves,
No heat or hail, no demon from hell,
No fire or flood of fear of your foes
165 Can harm you whenever you have it upon you:
Perfect charity casteth out fear.17
God save my soul, if you sought such power,
The might of that seal would make you the master
Of emperors and empresses, earls and kings,
And would place in your power both patriarchs and popes,
170 Through wisdom, not witchcraft, and were you to wish it,
Would cause kings and queens and all the commons
To give you to guard all the goods they can give
And to do as you ordain for the rest of their days:
The patient shall conquer.”
“Such a story is absurd,” the Doctor said.
175 “All the wisdom in the world and the might of monarchs
Cannot patch up a peace between the Pope and his foes,
Nor can they between two Christian kings,
Not that will profit both people,” he opined.
And he leant back, declaring to Conscience and Learning
180 That Patience should depart, saying pilgrims were liars.
But Conscience dissented and civilly said,
“Then farewell, my friends” and spoke fairly to Learning:
“If God gives me grace I will go with this man,
With this pilgrim called Patience, and see what transpires.”
185 “You what?” Learning gasped. “Are you greedy for gifts
Or are you after the answers to riddles?
I can bring you a Bible, the book of Old Law,
And tell you from that a thing or two
That Patience the pilgrim can never explain.”
190 “No, by Christ,” said Conscience, “may God requite you!
I take no pride in what Patience pretends,
But his will and the will of the witnesses here
Have so moved my mood that I mourn for my sins.
No wealth is worth as much as good will,
195 And true will’s a treasure no bounty can buy.
Mary Magdalene was honored far more for her ointment18
Than Zacchaeus who declared he would give away his goods,19
And the poor widow more for her pair of mites
Than the rich for their tribute to the treasury in tax.”20
200 Thus decorously Conscience addressed the Doctor,
And then softly he spoke another sentence to Learning:
“By our Lord I should like much more, if I live,
To have perfect patience than your parcel of books!”
Learning was loath to take leave of Conscience
205 And said very soberly, “You’ll see the time
When you’re weary with walking and want to consult me.”
“That may be so,” Conscience said, “God save me!
But if Patience is our fellow and faithful friend,
We can mend every misery and mischief in the world,
210 Bring peace between kings and countries in conflict,
And persuade all Saracens, Syrians and Jews,
All heathens, to follow the one true faith.”
“I accept what you say for sure,” Learning said,
“And shall do my duty as I have been doing,
215 Forming children and confirming folk
Till Patience has proved you and made you perfect.”
So Conscience and Patience departed like pilgrims,
Patience with a pilgrim’s food in his pocket,
Simple speech, soberness and steadfast belief
220 To comfort him and Conscience when they came to countries
Where covetous unkindness would cause them to hunger.
As they went they wondered at what Do-well was,
Till they met with a man who looked like a minstrel.
So Patience spoke and besought him to say
225 What profession he followed and what route he favored.
“I acknowledge I’m a minstrel,” he announced, “and my name
Is Active Life for I loathe to be idle,
A wafer-seller working for a wealth of masters
But earning few fripperies or foppish furs.
230 If I lied and larked to make men laugh
I’d have clothes and cash like a jester at court,
But I tell no tall tales, play no tabor or trumpet
Or harp or fiddle, I won’t fart for fun,
Or tell japes or juggle or jig or tumble
235 Or play the pipe or sing to the cittern,
So the only gift that grandees will give me
For the bread that I bake is a blessing on Sundays
When the priest asks the people to repeat the Our Father
For Piers the Plowman and those who support him.
240 I’m the Active Man and I am never idle,
And from Michaelmas to Michaelmas I make the wafers
For those who toil and till the earth.
Beggars and tramps all bid for my bread,
Vagabonds and friars, all the folk with tonsures.
245 “I’m appointed to the Pope, and supply his horse,
But God save us, I swear I have never received
Patronage or food as a present from the Pope,
Just a pardon sealed with a pair of saints.
If I possessed a scribe I’d scribble a dispatch
250 Beseeching him to send me a salve for the Plague
And a blessing and bulls to banish the pox:
In my name they shall cast out devils; They shall lay their hands upon the sick, and they shall recover.21
And then I’d be pleased to m
ake pastry for people,
Be obedient and busy with bread and with drink
For the Pope and his people if his pardon were proved
255 To heal as it ought, for he has the power
That was passed to Saint Peter with the pot of ointment:
Silver and gold I have none; but what I have I give thee: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise, and walk.22
“But if miracles fail, then men do not merit
The grace of God, and the Pope bears no guilt,
For his blessing will work only when we are worthy,
260 Nor will prayers make peace between Christian peoples
Till pride is put off, which will happen through hunger.
For before I make bread for folk or have flour,
I must mightily sweat on many cold mornings,
So that wafers are made with much worrisome work.
265 But all Londoners, I believe, like my wafers
And scowl when they’re scarce, for not long since
One parish was in panic when bread disappeared.
No cart brought a stock to the city from Stratford,23
So that beggars wept and workmen worried.
270 It was thirteen-seventy when the scarcity struck,
While Chichester was mayor, and the memory remains
Of the dearth of bread in the dry April drought.”
I carefully examined, and so did Conscience,
The Active Man Haukin and how he was dressed.
275 His coat was his christening in Christian faith,
But it was spattered and stained with numerous spots,
A splash or two of pride, of licentious speech,
Of scoffing and scorn, and unseemly bearing.
Too proud in apparel and with pompous deportment,
280 He was seeking to be seen as something he was not
In humor or behavior or indeed in his heart,
For he boasted and bragged and blasphemed badly,
And hated to be mocked by anyone at all,
Wanting to appear superior to people,
285 Peerless and unparalleled, as holy as the Pope.
He was dressed as a hermit, in an order of his own
Without rightful obedience to rules or the Rule,
A liar who pretended to be telling the truth
But belittled the faithful, both learned and lowly.
290 He considered and speculated, studied and observed
How best to be known for his boldness of body,
And he interfered everywhere in others’ affairs,
Hoping they would hold that he knew best
In matters of learning and commercial life.
295 He was the strongest mount with the stiffest member,
The most handsome to behold, the most honest in dealings,
And the most religious, and his life was most moral.
He was fairest in features, in form and in shape,
The subtlest singer, the slickest with his hands,
300 And the largest lender who expected to be lauded.
He wanted folk aware of when he gave alms,
Though his purse was poor and his savings were paltry.
He had leonine looks and was lordly of speech,
The boldest of beggars, a bragger with nothing.
305 In the town and in taverns he told tall stories,
Swore he had seen things he’s never had sight of,
Boasted of doings that were done in his dreams,
Gloried in his goodness and gloated on it, saying,
“If you’re reluctant to believe me or think that I’m lying,
310 Ask this man or that and then you’ll discover
What I’ve suffered and seen and sometimes owned,
What I’ve known and performed and what family I’m from.”
He wanted folk to know of works and words
That appealed to people and would praise himself:
If I yet pleased men, I should not be the servant of Christ, and
No man can serve two masters.24
315 “By Christ,” said Conscience, “your coat, friend Haukin,
Should be sent to the wash as it’s spotted and stained.”
“Just so,” Haukin said. “If you observe it closely
And inspect front and back, and examine the sides,
You’ll see that it’s crumpled and covered in spots.”
320 And he twirled around and I realized he was right:
It was filthier by far than at first it had seemed.
It was addled with anger and ill-will and envy,
Fouled with slander and incitements to fight,
With lying, belittling and looseness of tongue,
325 For he broadcast anything bad that he heard
And abused men horribly behind their backs
And wished they would fail, and he whispered to Wat
What he found out from Will, and vice versa,
Making foes of his friends through his false reports.
330 “I must seek revenge through vicious slander
Or physical strength or I fret inside,
Tearing and swearing like a tailor with his shears.
His mouth is full of cursing, and of bitterness, and of deceit; under his tongue are labor and sorrow, and
The sons of men, whose teeth are weapons and arrows, and their tongue a sharp sword.25
No love or relationship ever lasts long
Since no one trusts me for the tales that I tell.
335 When I cannot be kingpin I feel melancholic,
And catch the cramps or cardiac spasms
Or fearsome rheumatics or a frightful fever
That takes me a twelve-month, and then I turn
From the wisdom of our Lord and run wheezing to a witch,
340 To the Southwark Shoemaker or Emma of Shoreditch,26
Proclaiming that Christ and the doctors can’t cure me,
That the word of God is no good as a guide,
That health and chances come chiefly from charms!”
I looked more sharply and saw his coat soiled
345 With liking of lust, and leery his eye,
For each maid that he met, he made her a sign
That spoke of sinning, and sometimes he tasted
Her lips or lecherously groped her below
Till their willingness waxed and to work they would go.
350 On feast days and Fridays, and times when it’s frowned on,
In Lent they were lustful, all seasons alike,
They were on it and at it again and again
Till they lay back exhausted and in hoary old age
Could tell of ho
w lechers laughed and made love,
355 Tales of harlotry, whoredom and having their way.
Then Patience pointed out parts of the coat
That were moldy with money and misplaced greed,
For he gave his attention to goods, not to God,
And he pondered how possible it was to profit
360 From false information or fraudulent measure.
He made loans that were harsh and looked for loop-holes
To keep the property that people had pledged,
And he mixed up commodities to make a good show:
“Being smart, I place the poor stuff inside.
365 If my neighbor has a hard-working animal or hireling
More profitable than mine I plot and I plan
How to get my hands on him all for my own,
And if all else fails, I finally filch him,
Or I pick the man’s locks and his purse in private.
370 By night and by day I’m dodging and dealing
To gather through guile the goods that I have.
“If plying the plow, I will push so far over
That I fetch in a furrow or foot of land,
Grabbing and grasping my neighbor’s ground,
375 And when I am reaping I reckon my reapers
Should snatch with their scythes what others have sown.
And if anyone borrows he has to buy
More time with presents or to pay more in private.
In that way I gain from the game regardless,
380 And to kith and to kin I am just as unkind.
I complain unless people who purchase my goods
Are prepared to pay a penny or two
More than their value while fiercely avowing
The price that I paid was appreciably more.
385 If I happen to hear the Mass on high days,
It never ever enters my head
To ask for mercy for I mourn much more
The loss of my goods than my guilt against God,
So I do not dread my deadly sins
390 As dearly as loans that are long overdue,
And if I show kindness to comfort fellow Christians,
In my heart I calculate the cash I may acquire.
Piers Plowman Page 22