And Piers caste to the crop, 10950 {335} And thanne comsed it to crye, And waggede widwehode, And it wepte after; And whan it meved matrimoyne, It made a foul noise. And I hadde ruthe whan Piers rogged, It gradde so rufulliche; For evere as thei dropped a-doun, The devel was redy And gadrede hem alle togideres, 10960 Bothe grete and smale, Adam and Abraham, And Ysaye the prophete, Sampson and Samuel, And seint Johan the Baptist, Bar hem forth bodily, No body hym letted, And made of holy men his hoord _In limbo inferni_, There is derknesse and drede, 10970 And the devel maister. And Piers, for pure tene, Of that a pil he raughte; He hitte after hym, Hitte how it myghte, _Filius_ by the fader wille, And frenesse of _Spiritus sancti_, To go robbe that rageman, And reve the fruyt fro hym. And thanne spak _Spiritus sanctus_ 10980 In Gabrielis mouthe, To a maide that highte Marie, A meke thyng withalle, That oon Jhesus a justices sone {336} Moste jouke in hir chambre, Til _plenitudo temporis_ Fully comen were, That Piers fruyt floured, And felle to be rype, And thanne sholde Jhesus juste therfore, 10990 By juggement of armes, Wheither sholde fonge the fruyt, The fend or hymselve. The maide myldeliche tho The messager graunted, And seide hendeliche to hym, "Lo me his hand-maiden For to werchen his wille, Withouten any synne." _Ecce ancilla Domini, fiat mihi, etc._ 11000 And in the wombe of that wenche Was he fourty woukes, Til he weex a faunt thorugh hir flessh, And of fightyng kouthe, To have y-foughte with the fend Er ful tyme come. And Piers the Plowman Perceyved plener tyme, And lered hym lechecraft His lif for to save, 11010 That though he were wounded with his enemy, To warisshen hymselve, And dide hym assaie his surgenrie On hem that sike were, Til he was perfit praktisour, If any peril fille; And soughte out the sike And synfulle bothe, {337} And salvede sike and synfulle, Bothe blynde and crokede, 11020 And commune wommen convertede, And to goode turnede. _Non est sanis opus medicinæ, sed in, etc._