"Amonges us," quod the Menours, "That man is dwellynge, And evere hath, as I hope, And evere shal herafter." "_Contra_," quod I as a clerc, And comsed to disputen, And seide hem soothly, 4940 "_Septies in die cadit justus._ Sevene sithes, seith the book, Synneth the rightfulle; And who so synneth," I seide, "Dooth yvele, as me thynketh; And Do-wel and Do-yvele Mowe noght dwelle togideres. _Ergo_ he nys noght alwey Amonges yow freres; He is outher while ellis where 4950 To wisse the peple." "I shal seye thee, my sone," Seide the frere thanne, "How seven sithes the sadde man On a day synneth; By a forbisne," quod the frere, "I shal thee faire shewe. {153} Lat brynge a man in a boot Amydde the brode watre, The wynd and the water 4960 And the boot waggyng Maketh the man many a tyme To falle and to stonde; For stonde he never so stif, He stumbleth if he meve, Ac yet is he saaf and sound, And so hym bihoveth. For if he ne arise the rather, And raughte to the steere, The wynd wolde with the water 4970 The boot over throwe; And thanne were his lif lost, Through lachesse of hymselve. "And thus it falleth," quod the frere, "By folk here on erthe; The water is likned to the world That wanyeth and wexeth; The goodes of this grounde arn lik To the grete wawes, That as wyndes and wedres 4980 Walketh aboute; The boot is likned to oure body That brotel is of kynde, That thorugh the fend and the flesshe And the frele worlde Synneth the sadde man A day seven sithes. "Ac dedly synne doth he noght, For Do-wel hym kepeth; And that is charité the champion, 4990 Chief help ayein synne; {154} For he strengheth men to stonde, And steereth mannes soule, And though the body bowe As boot dooth in the watre, Ay is thi soule saaf, But if thow wole thiselve Do a deedly synne, And drenche so thi soule, God wole suffre wel thi sleuthe, 5000 If thiself liketh. For he yaf thee a yeres-gyve, To yeme wel thiselve, And that is wit and free-wil, To every wight a porcion, To fleynge foweles, To fisshes and to beestes; Ac man hath moost therof, And moost is to blame, But if he werche wel therwith, 5010 As Do-wel hym teacheth." "I have no kynde knowyng," quod I, "To conceyven alle youre wordes; Ac if I may lyve and loke, I shal go lerne bettre." "I bikenne thee Crist," quod he, "That on cros deyde!" And I seide, "The same Save yow fro myschaunce, And gyve yow grace on this grounde 5020 Goode men to worthe!"