Ther is nothing thei loven more; So that semende of liht thei werke The dedes whiche are inward derke. And thus this double Ypocrisie With his devolte apparantie A viser set upon his face, Wherof toward this worldes grace He semeth to be riht wel thewed, And yit his herte is al beschrewed. 640 Bot natheles he stant believed, And hath his pourpos ofte achieved Of worschipe and of worldes welthe, And takth it, as who seith, be stelthe Thurgh coverture of his fallas. And riht so in semblable cas This vice hath ek his officers [Sidenote: Ipocrisis secularis.] Among these othre seculers [Sidenote: =P. i. 64=] Of grete men, for of the smale As for tacompte he set no tale, 650 Bot thei that passen the comune With suche him liketh to comune, And where he seith he wol socoure The poeple, there he woll devoure; For now aday is manyon Which spekth of Peter and of John[304] And thenketh Judas in his herte. Ther schal no worldes good asterte His hond, and yit he yifth almesse And fasteth ofte and hiereth Messe: 660 With _mea culpa_, which he seith, Upon his brest fullofte he leith His hond, and cast upward his yhe, As thogh he Cristes face syhe; So that it seemeth ate syhte, As he al one alle othre myhte Rescoue with his holy bede. Bot yet his herte in other stede Among hise bedes most devoute Goth in the worldes cause aboute, 670 How that he myhte his warisoun Encresce. [Sidenote: [HYPOCRISY OF LOVERS.]] [Sidenote:[305]Hic tractat Confessor cum Amante super illa presertim Ipocrisia, que sub amoris facie fraudulenter latitando mulieres ipsius ficticiis credulas sepissime decipit innocentes.] And in comparisoun Ther ben lovers of such a sort, That feignen hem an humble port, And al is bot Ypocrisie, Which with deceipte and flaterie Hath many a worthi wif beguiled. For whanne he hath his tunge affiled, [Sidenote: =P. i. 65=] With softe speche and with lesinge, Forth with his fals pitous lokynge, 680 He wolde make a womman wene To gon upon the faire grene, Whan that sche falleth in the Mir. For if he may have his desir, How so falle of the remenant, He halt no word of covenant; Bot er the time that he spede, Ther is no sleihte at thilke nede, Which eny loves faitour mai, That he ne put it in assai, 690 As him belongeth forto done. The colour of the reyni Mone With medicine upon his face He set, and thanne he axeth grace, As he which hath sieknesse feigned. Whan his visage is so desteigned,