And sithen he radde Religion {80} Hir rule to holde; "Lest the kyng and his conseil Youre comunes apeire, And be stywardes of youre stedes, Til ye be ruled bettre." And sithen he counseiled the kyng 2570 His commune to lovye; "It is thi trewe tresor, And tryacle at thy nede." And sithen he preide the pope Have pité on holy chirche, And er he gyve any grace, Governe first hymselve. "And ye that han lawes to kepe, Lat truthe be youre coveitise, Moore than gold outher giftes, 2580 If ye wol God plese; For who so contrarieth Truthe, He telleth in the gospel, That God knoweth hym noght, Ne no seynt of hevene. _Amen dico vobis, nescio vos._ "And ye that seke seynt James, And seyntes of Rome, Seketh seynt Truthe, For he may save yow alle; 2590 _Qui cum patre et filio_, That faire hem bi-falle That seweth my sermon." And thus seyde Reson. Thanne ran Repentaunce, And reherced his teme: And garte Wille to wepe Water with hise eighen. {81} Pernele Proud-herte Platte hire to the erthe, 2600 And lay longe er she loked, And "Lord, mercy!" cryde, And bi-highte to hym That us alle made, She sholde unsowen hir serk, And sette there an heyre, To affaiten hire flesshe That fiers was to synne. "Shal nevere heigh herte me hente, But holde I wole me lowe 2610 And suffre to be mys-seyd, And so dide I nevere; And now I wole meke me, And mercy biseche, For al this I have Hated in myn herte." Thanne Lechour seide, "Allas!" And on oure Lady he cryde, To maken mercy for hise mys-dedes Bitwene God and his soule; 2620 With that he sholde the Saterday, Seven yer therafter, Drynke but myd the doke, And dyne but ones. Envye with hevy herte Asked after shrifte, And carefully _mea culpa_ He comsed to shewe. He was as pale as a pelet, In the palsy he semed; 2630 And clothed in a kaurymaury, I kouthe it nought discryve, {82} In kirtel and courtepy, And a knyf by his syde; Of a freres frokke Were the fore-sleves; And as a leek that hadde y-leye Longe in the sonne, So loked he with lene chekes Lourynge foule. 2640 His body was to-bollen for wrathe, That he boot hise lippes; And wryngynge he yede with the fust, To wreke hymself he thoughte With werkes or with wordes, Whan he seyghe his tyme. Ech a word that he warpe Was of a neddres tonge; Of chidynge and of chalangynge Was his chief liflode, 2650 With bakbitynge and bismere, And berynge of fals witnesse.