"Thanne seide the Prest, i will the telle, For alle my good i wele the selle, For alle the synnes that thou hast don, I graunte the hem alle sone anon. Alle gode dedes and eke preiere. That Marchaunt the Prest wel understod, That the Prestes chaffare was to hym good, Gif that it mythe awelde; And seide, as i am a trewe man, In alle the wittis that i can, Covenaunt i wele the helden. Gif thou wilt me with herte and thouth (thought), Give me alle thi gode dedes that thou hast wrouth, As covenaunt was before; Loke, he seide, to the Prest anon, That thou telle hem everecheon, That thou be nouth forswore. And i schal telle the anon, Alle the ... de dedes that I haue don, Alle with outen ende; The Prest began anon to telle, Of hese goodnesse anon snelle, No lengere he wolde hym wende. The Prest seide, while i was yonge, And coude gon and speke with tunge, I was sette to lore; Pore men i loved wel, Of that i hadde i zaf hem su ... el, Bothe lesse and more. And quanne i my primer cou[the], I seide it eche day with my mouthe, And forgat ... uth on; To God i made my preiere, And eche dai seide oure ladies [sa]utere, To God I made my mone. Evereche day to chirche i went, And seide my psauter with sex [en?]tente Both be dai and be nyth; Quanne i to bedde schulde go, Mi clothes i kest me fro, To serue God ful of myth. Certes oftyn i gan take, An usage on nyth moche to wake, And prei to hevene kyng; That i moste comen to this ... religion, To my soule Savacioun, To joye with outen endyng. And quanne i was made a prest here, God thewes i wolde lere, As I haue the told; Now thou woste with outen strife, How I haue led in lif, And all my goodnesse I haue thee solde. Thanne seide the Prest to the Marchaunt, Hold thou me my covenaunt, That I of haue of the bouth; Thou woste wel al untold, But gif a man wolde truthe hold, Marchaundize is rith nouth, With tretchere thou myth me katche, And do me _bie the cat in a Satche_,[1] Thyng that I may nouth se; All thi synnes thou me telle, And thou schalt be saued fro the payne of helle, Gif thou ne levest nouth me. The Marchaunt seide, geve me myn, And thou schalt have chaffare thin, Gif thou wilt understonde; This seide the Prest, be my leute, Alle thi synnes telle thou me, For no thyng that thou ne wende. The Marchaunt seide, wil I was yong, And coude gon and spake with tung, I was jolif and wilde; Be myn own sister I lay, Many a nyth and many a day, And gret sche was with childe.