"For Lot in hise lif-dayes, For likynge of drynke, Dide by hise doughtres That the devel liked, Delited hym in drynke As the devel wolde, {17} And leccherie hym laughte, And lay by hem bothe, And al he witte it the wyn 520 That wikked dede. _Inebriamus eum vino, dormiamusque cum eo, ut servare possimus de patre nostro semen._ Thorugh wyn and thorugh wommen Ther was Loth acombred, And there gat in glotonie Gerles that were cherles. "For-thi dred delitable drynke, And thow shalt do the bettre. 530 Mesure is medicine, Though thow muchel yerne. It is nought al good to the goost That the gut asketh, Ne liflode to thi likame; For a liere hym techeth, That is the wrecched world Wolde thee bitraye. For the fend and thi flesshe Folwen togidere. 540 This and that seeth thi soule, And seith it in thin herte; And for thow sholdest ben y-war, I wisse thee the beste." "Madame, mercy!" quod I, "Me liketh wel youre wordes; Ac the moneie of this molde That men so faste holdeth, Tel me to whom, madame, That tresour appendeth." 550 "Go to the gospel," quod she, {18} "That God seide hymselven; Tho the poeple hym apposede With a peny in the temple, Wheither thei sholde therwith Worshipe the kyng Cesar. "And God asked of hym, Of whom spak the lettre, And the ymage was lik That therinne stondeth. 560 "'Cesares,' thei seiden, 'We seen it wel echone.' "'_Reddite Cæsari_,' quod God, 'That _Cæsari_ bifalleth, _Et quæ sunt Dei Deo_,' Or ellis ye don ille; For rightfully reson Sholde rule yow alle, And kynde wit be wardeyn Youre welthe to kepe, 570 And tutour of youre tresor, And take it yow at nede, For housbondrie and hii Holden togidres." Thanne I frayned hire faire, For hym that me made, "That dongeon in the dale, That dredful is of sighte, What may it be to meene, Madame, I yow biseche?" 580 "That is the castel of Care; Who so comth therinne May banne that he born was, To bodi or to soule. Therinne wonyeth a wight {19} That Wrong is y-hote, Fader of falshede, And founded it hymselve. Adam and Eve He egged to ille; 590 Counseilled Kaym To killen his brother; Judas he japed With Jewen silver, And sithen on an eller Hanged hymselve. He is lettere of love, And lieth hem alle That trusten on his tresour; Bitrayeth he hem sonnest." 600 Thanne hadde I wonder in my wit What womman it weere, That swiche wise wordes Of holy writ shewed; And asked hire on the heighe name, Er she thennes yede, What she were witterly That wissed me so faire.