Knelynge Conscience To the kyng louted, 1590 To wite what his wille were, And what he do wolde. "Woltow wedde this womman," quod the kyng, "If I wole assente? For she is fayn of thi felaweshipe, For to be thi make." Quod Conscience to the kyng, "Crist it me forbede! Er I wedde swich a wif, Wo me bitide! 1600 For she is frele of hire feith, Fikel of hire speche, And maketh men mysdo Many score tymes; Trust of hire tresor Bitrayeth ful manye. "Wyves and widewes Wantonnes she techeth, And lereth hem lecherie That loveth hire giftes. 1610 Youre fader she felled Thorugh false biheste, And hath enpoisoned popes, And peired holy chirche. Is noght a bettre baude, By hym that me made! Bitwene hevene and helle, In erthe though men soughte. {51} For she is tikel of hire tail, And tale-wis of hire tonge; 1620 As commune as a cartwey To ech a knave that walketh, To monkes, to mynstrales, To meseles in hegges. "Sisours and somonours, Swiche men hire preiseth; Sherreves of shires Were shent if she ne were; For she dooth men lese hire lond And hire lif bothe; 1630 She leteth passe prisoners, And paieth for hem ofte, And gyveth the gailers gold And grotes togidres, To unfettre the fals Fle where hym liketh; And taketh the trewe bi the top And tieth hem faste, And hangeth hem for hatrede That harm dide nevere. 1640 "To be corsed in consistorie She counteth noght a bene; For she copeth the commissarie, And coteth hise clerkes. She is assoiled as soone As hireself liketh; And may neigh as muche do In a monthe one, As youre secret seel In sixe score dayes. 1650 For she is pryvee with the pope, Provisours it knoweth; {52} For sire Symonie and hirselve Seleth hire bulles. "She blesseth thise bisshopes, Theigh thei be lewed; Provendreth persones, And preestes maynteneth, To have lemmans and lotebies Alle hire lif daies, 1660 And bryngeth forth barnes Ayein forbode lawes. Ther she is wel with the kyng, Wo is the reaume; For she is favourable to fals, And de-fouleth truthe ofte. "By Jhesus! with hire jeweles Youre justices she shendeth, And lith ayein the lawe, And letteth hym the gate, 1670 That feith may noght have his forth, Hire floryns go so thikke. She ledeth the lawe as hire list, And love-daies maketh, And doth men lese thorugh hire love, That lawe myghte wynne The maze for a mene man, Though he mote hire evere. Lawe is so lordlich And looth to maken ende, 1680 Withouten presentz or pens She pleseth wel fewe.