"And with the residue and the remenaunt, By the Rode of Lukes! I wol worshipe therwith Truthe by my lyve, And ben his pilgrym atte plow, 4000 For povere mennes sake. My plow-foot shall be my pikstaf, And picche a-two the rotes, And helpe my cultour to kerve And clense the furwes." Now is Perkyn and hise pilgrimes To the plow faren; To erie his half acre Holpen hym manye; Dikeres and delveres 4010 Digged up the balkes. Therwith was Perkyn a-payed, And preised hem faste. Othere werkmen ther were That wroghten ful yerne; Ech man in his manere Made hymself to doone, And somme to plese Perkyn Piked up the wedes. At heigh prime Piers 4020 Leet the plowgh stonde, {124} To over-sen hem hymself, And who so best wroghte He sholde be hired therafter, Whan hervest tyme come. And thanne seten somme, And songen atte nale, And holpen ere this half acre With "How, trolly lolly." "Now, by the peril of my soule!" quod Piers, 4030 All in pure tene, "But ye arise the rather And rape yow to werche, Shal no greyn that groweth Glade yow at nede, And though ye deye for doel, The devel have that reccheth." Tho were faitours a-fered, And feyned hem blynde; Somme leide hir legges a-liry, 4040 As swiche losels konneth, And made hir mone to Piers, And preide hym of grace; "For we have no lymes to laboure with, Lord, y-graced be the; Ac we preie for yow, Piers, And for youre plowgh bothe, That God of his grace Youre greyn multiplie, And yelde yow for youre almesse 4050 That ye gyve us here; For we may noght swynke ne swete, Swich siknesse us eyleth." "If it be sooth," quod Piers, "that ye seyn, I shal it soone aspie. {125} Ye ben wastours, I woot wel, And Truthe woot the sothe; And I am his olde hyne, And highte hym to warne, Whiche thei were in this world 4060 Hise werkmen apeired. Ye wasten that men wynnen With travaille and with tene; Ac Truthe shal teche yow His teme to dryve, Or ye shul eten barley breed, And of the broke drynke. "But if he be blynd or broke-legged, Or bolted with irens, He shall ete whete breed, 4070 And drynke with myselve, Til God of his goodnesse Amendement hym sende. Ac ye myghte travaille, as Truthe wolde, And take mete and hyre, To kepe kyen in the feld, The corn fro the beestes, Diken or delven, Or dyngen upon sheves, Or helpe make morter, 4080 Or bere muk a-feld. "In lecherie and in losengerie Ye lyven, and in sleuthe; And al is thorugh suffraunce, That vengeaunce yow ne taketh.