"Therfore by colour ne by clergie 10040 Knowe shaltow nevere, Neither thorugh wordes ne werkes, But thorugh wil oone. And that knoweth no clerk, Ne creature on erthe, But Piers the Plowman {308} _Petrus, i. Christus._ For he nys noght in lolleris, Ne in lond leperis heremytes, Ne at ancres there a box hangeth, 10050 Alle swiche thei faiten. Fy on faitours, And _in fautores suos_! For charité is Goddes champion, And as a good child hende, And the murieste of mouth At mete where he sitteth. The love that lith in his herte Maketh hym light of speche, And is compaignable and confortatif, 10060 As Crist bit hymselve. _Nolite fieri sicut hypocritæ tristes, etc._ For I have seyen hym in silk, And som tyme in russet, Bothe in grey and in grys, And in gilt harneis; And as gladliche he it gaf To gomes that it neded. "Edmond and Edward Bothe were kynges, 10070 And seintes y-set, For charité hem folwede. "I have y-seyen charité also Syngen and reden, Riden and rennen In raggede wedes; Ac biddynge as beggeris Biheld I hym nevere. Ac in riche robes Rathest he walketh, 10080 {309} Y-called and y-crymyled, And his crowne y-shave; And in a freres frokke He was y-founden ones, Ac it is fern ago, In seint Fraunceis tyme: In that secte siththe To selde hath he ben founde. "Riche men he recomendeth, And of hir robes taketh, 10090 That withouten wiles Ledeth hir lyves. _Beatus est dives qui, etc._ "In kynges court he cometh ofte, Ther the counseil is trewe; Ac if coveitise be of the counseil, He wolnoght come therinne, "In court amonges japeris He cometh noght but selde, For braulynge and bakbitynge, 10100 And berynge of fals witnesse. "In the consistorie bifore the commissarie He cometh noght but ofte; For hir lawe dureth over longe, But if thei lacchen silver, And matrimoyne for moneie Maken and unmaken; And that conscience and Crist Hath y-knyt faste, Thei undoon it unworthily, 10110 Tho doctours of lawe. "Ac I ne lakke no lif, But, Lord, amende us alle, {310} And gyve us grace, good God, Charité to folwe. For who so myghte meete myd hym, Swiche maneres hym eileth, Neither he blameth ne banneth, Bosteth ne preiseth, Lakketh ne loseth, 10120 Ne loketh up sterne, Craveth ne coveiteth, Ne crieth after moore. _In pace in idipsum dormiam, etc._ "The mooste liflode that he lyveth by, Is love in Goddes passion; Neither he biddeth ne beggeth, Ne borweth to yelde, Misdooth he no man, Ne with his mouth greveth. 10130