CONTEMPLATION.
I warrant you, brother, that he is coming.
PERSEVERANCE.
The eternal God, that named was Messias, He give you grace to come to his glory, Wherever is joy in the celestial place, When you of Satan winneth the victory, Everyman ought to be glad to have in company, For I am named good Perseverance, That ever is guided by virtuous governance; I am never variable, but doth continue, Still going upward the ladder of grace, And lode in me planted is so true, And from the poor man I will never turn my face: When I go by myself oft I do remember The great kindness that God showed unto man, For to be born in the month of December, When the day waxeth short, and the night long, Of his goodness that champion strong Descended down fro the Father of rightwiseness, And rested in Mary the flower of meekness.
Now to this place hither come I am To seek Contemplation my kinsman.
CONTEMPLATION.
What, brother Perseverance? ye be welcome.
PERSEVERANCE.
And so be you also, Contemplation.
CONTEMPLATION.
Lo, here is our master Pity.
PERSEVERANCE.
Now truly ye be welcome into this country.
PITY.
I thank ye heartily, sir Perseverance.
PERSEVERANCE.
Master Pity, one thing is come to my remembrance; What tithings hear you now?
PITY.
Sir, such as I can I shall show you: I have heard many men complain piteously; They say they be smitten with the swerd of poverty.
In every place where I do go: Few friends poverty doth find, And these rich men been unkind; For their neighbours they will nought do, Widows doth curse lords and gentle men, For they constrain them to marry with their men, Yea, whether they will or no: Men marry for good,[113] and that is damnable, Yea, with old women that is fifty and beyond: The peril now no man dread will; All is not God's law that is used in land; Beware will they not, till death in his hand Taketh his sword, and smiteth asunder the life vein, And with his mortal stroke cleaveth the heart atwain: They trust so in mercy, the lantern of brightness, That no thing do they dread God's rightwiseness.
PERSEVERANCE.
O Jesu, sir, here is a heavy tiding.
PITY.
Sir, this is true, that I do bring.
CONTEMPLATION.
How am I beloved, master Pity, where ye come?
PITY.
In good faith, people have now small devotion; And as for with you, brother Contemplation, There meddleth few or none.
CONTEMPLATION.
Yet, I trust, that priests love me well?
PITY.
But a few, i-wis, and some never a deal.
CONTEMPLATION.
Why, sir, without me they may not live clean.
PITY.
Nay, that is the least thought that they have of fifteen; And that maketh me full heavy.
CONTEMPLATION.
How, trow you that there be no remedy?
PITY.
Full hard, for sin is now so grievous and ill, That I think that it be growen to an impossible, And yet one thing maketh me ever mourning: That priests lack utterance to show their cunning; And all the while that clerks do use so great sin, Among the lay people look never for no mending.
PERSEVERANCE.