Techeth a man to kepe his tonge wel;
But as I sayd, I am not textuel.

But natheles thus taughte me my dame;

My sone, thinke on the crowe a Goddes name.
My sone, kepe wel thy tonge, and kepe thy frend;
A wicked tonge is werse than a fend:
My sone, from a fende men may hem blesse.
My sone, God of his endeles goodnesse
Walled a tonge with teeth, and lippes eke,
For man shuld him avisen what he speke.
My sone, ful often for to mochel speche
Hath many a man ben spilt, as clerkes teche;
But for a litel speche avisedly

Is no man shent, to speken generally..
My sone, thy tonge shuldest thou restreine
At alle time, but whan thou dost thy peine
To speke of God in honour and prayere.
The firste vertue, sone, if thou wolt lere,
Is to restreine, and kepen wel thy tonge;
Thus leren children, whan that they be yonge.
My sone, of mochel speking evil avised,
Ther lesse speking had ynough suffised, [taught;
Cometh mochel, harme; thus was me told and
In mochel speche sinne wanteth naught.
Wost thou wherof a rakel tonge serveth?
Right as a swerd forcutteth and forkerveth
An arme atwo, my dere sone, right so
A tonge cutteth frendship all atwo.
A jangler is to God abhominable.
Rede Salomon, so wise and honourable,
Rede David in his Psalmes, rede Senek.
My sone, speke not, but with thyn hed thou beck,
Dissimule as thou were defe, if that thou here
An janglour speke of perilous matere.

The Fleming sayth, and lerne if that thee lest,
That litel jangling causeth mochel rest.

My sone, if thou no wicked word hast said,
Thee thar not dreden for to be bewraid;
But he that hath missayd, I dare wel sain,
He may by no way clepe his word again.
Thing that is sayd is sayd, and forth it goth,
Though him repent, or be him never so loth,
He is his thral, to whom that he hath sayd
A tale, of which he is now evil apaid.
My sone, beware, and be non auctour newe
Of tidings, whether they ben false or trewe;
Wher so thou come, amonges high or lowe,
Kepe wel thy tonge, and thinke upon the crowe.

THE PERSONES PROLOGUE.
By that the Manciple had his tale ended,
The sonne fro the south line was descended
So lowe, that it ne was not to my sight
Degrees nine and twenty as of hight.
Foure of the clok it was tho, as I gesse,
For enleven foot, a litel more or lesse,
My shadow was at thilke time, as there,
Of swiche feet as my lengthe parted were
In six feet equal of proportion.
Therwith the mones exaltation,
In mene Libra, alway gan ascende,
As we were entring at the thorpes ende.
For which our hoste, as he was wont to gie,
As in this cas, our jolly compagnie,
Said in this wise; lordings, everich on,
Now lacketh us no tales mo than on.

Fulfilled is my sentence and my decree;
I trowe that we han herd of eche degree.
Almost fulfilled is myn ordinance;

I pray to God so yeve him right good chance, That telleth us this tale lustily.

Sire preest, quod he, art thou a vicary? Or art thou a Person? say soth by thy fay. Be what thou be, ne breke thou not our play; For every man, save thou, hath told his tale. Unbokel, and shew us what is in thy male. For trewely me thinketh by thy chere, Thou shuldest knitte up wel a gret matere. Tell us a fable anon, for cockes bones.

This Person him answered al at ones; Thou getest fable non ytold for me, For Poule, that writeth unto Timothe, Repreveth hem that weiven sothfastnesse, And tellen fables, and swiche wretchednesse. Why shuld I sowen draf out of my fist, Whan I may sowen whete, if that me list? For which I say, if that you list to here Moralitee, and vertuous matere, And than that ye wol yeve me audience, I wold ful fain at Cristes reverence

Don

you plesance leful, as I can.

But trusteth wel, I am a sotherne man,
I cannot geste, rom, ram, ruf, by my letter,
And, God wote, rime hold I but litel better.
And therfore if you list, I wol not glose,
I wol you tell a litel tale in prose,

To knitte up all this feste, and make an ende:
And Jesu for his grace wit me sende
To shewen you the way in this viage
Of thilke parfit glorious pilgrimage,

That hight Jerusalem celestial.

And if ye vouchesauf, anon I shal
Beginne upon my tale, for which I pray
Tell your avis, I can no better say.
But natheles this meditation
put it ay under correction

Of clerkes, for I am not textuel;

I take but the sentence, trusteth me wel.
Therfore I make a protestation,
That I wol standen to correction.

Upon this word we han assented sone:
For, as us semed, it was for to don,
To enden in som vertuous sentence,
And for to yeve him space and audience;
And bade our hoste he shulde to him say,
That alle we to tell his tale him pray.

Our hoste had the wordes for us alle:
Sire preest, quod he, now faire you befalle;
Say what you list, and we shul gladly here.
And with that word he said in this manere;
Telleth, quod he, your meditatioun,
But hasteth you, the sonne wol adoun.
Beth fructuous, and that in litel space,
And to do wel God sende you his grace.

THE PERSONES TALE.

OUR Swete Lord God of heven, that no man wol perish, but wol that we comen all to the knowleching of him, and to the blisful lif that is pardurable, amonesteth us by the Prophet Jeremie, that sayth in this wise: Stondeth upon the wayes, and seeth and axeth of the olde pathes:

that is to say, of olde sentences; which is the good way: and walketh in that way, and ye shul finde refreshing for your soules. Many ben the wayes spirituel that leden folk to our Lord Jesu Crist, and to the regne of glory: of which wayes, ther is a ful noble way, and wel covenable, which may not faille to man ne to woman, that thurgh sinne hath misgon fro the right way of Jerusalem celestial; and this way is cleped penance; of which man shuld gladly herken and enqueren with all his herte, to wete, what is penance, and whennes it is cleped penance, and how many maneres ben of actions or werkings of penance, and how many spices ther ben of penance, and which thinges apperteinen and behoven to penance, and which thinges distroublen penance.

Pe

Seint Ambrose sayth, That penance is the plaining of man for the gilt that he hath don, and no more to do any thing for which him ought to plaine. And som doctour sayth: Penance is the waymenting of man that sorweth for his sinne, and peineth himself, for he hath misdon. nance, with certain circumstances, is veray repentance of man, that holdeth himself in sorwe and other peine for his giltes: and for he shal be veray penitent, he shal first bewailen the sinnes that he hath don, and stedfastly purposen in his herte to have shrift of mouth, and to don satisfaction, and never to don thing, for which him ought more to bewayle or complaine, and to continue in good werkes: or elles his repentance may not availe. For as Seint Isidor sayth; he is a japer and a gabber, and not veray repentant, that eftsones