"For thorugh his breeth beestes woxen 9030 And a-brood yeden. _Dixit et facta sunt, etc._ _Ergo_ thorugh his breeth mowen Men and beestes lyven, As holy writ witnesseth, Whan men seye hir graces. _Aperis tu manum tuam, et imples omne animal benedictione._ "It is founden that fourty wynter Folk lyvede withouten tulying; 9040 And out of the flynt sprong the flood That folk and beestes dronken; And in Elyes tyme Hevene was y-closed, That no reyn ne roon; Thus rede men in bokes 9046 That many wyntres men lyveden, And no mete ne tulieden. "Sevene slepe, as seith the book, Sevene hundred wynter, And lyveden withouten liflode, And at the laste thei woken. And if men lyvede as mesure wolde, Sholde nevere moore be defaute Amonges cristene creatures, If Cristes wordes ben trewe. "Ac unkyndenesse _caristiam_ maketh 9056 {278} Amonges cristen peple; And over plentee maketh pryde Amonges poore and riche. Therfore mesure is muche worth, 9060 It may noght be to deere; For the meschief and the meschaunce Amonges men of Sodome, Weex thorugh plentee of payn, And of pure sleuthe. _Otiositas et abundantia panis peccatum turpissimum nutrivit._ For thei mesured noght hemself Of that thei ete and dronke, Thei diden dedly synne 9070 That the devel liked, So vengeaunce fil upon hem For hir vile synnes; Thei sonken into helle, The citees echone. "For-thi mesure we us wel, And make oure feith oure sheltrom; And thorugh feith cometh contricion, Conscience woot wel, Which dryveth awey dedly synne, 9080 And dooth it to be venial. And though a man myghte noght speke, Contricion myghte hym save, And brynge his soule to blisse; For so that feith bere witnesse, That whiles he lyvede, he bilevede In the loore of the holy chirche. _Ergo_ contricion, feith, and conscience Is kyndeliche Do-wel, {279} And surgiens for dedly synnes 9090 Whan shrift of mouthe failleth. Ac shrift of mouth moore worthi is, If man be y-liche contrit; For shrift of mouthe sleeth synne, Be it never so dedly. _Per confessionem_ to a preest _Peccata occiduntur._ "Ther contricion dooth but dryveth it down Into a venial synne, As David seith in the Sauter, 9100 _Et quorum tecta sunt peccata_; Ac satisfaccion seketh out the roote, And bothe sleeth and voideth, An as it nevere hadde y-be To noghte bryngeth dedly synne, That it nevere eft is sene ne soor, But semeth a wounde y-heeled." "Where wonyeth Charité?" quod Haukyn, "I wiste nevere in my lyve Man that with hym spak, 9110 As wide as I have passed."