"So I seye by yow riche, It semeth noght that ye shulle Have hevene in youre here dwellyng, And hevene also therafter; 9200 Right so as a servaunt taketh his salarie bifore, And siththe wolde clayme moore, As he that noon hadde, And hath hire at the laste. It may noght be, ye riche men, Or Mathew on God lyeth: _Væ! deliciis ad delicias difficile est transire._ "Ac if ye riche have ruthe, And rewarde wel the poore, 9210 And lyven as lawe techeth, And doon leauté to hem alle, Crist of his curteisie Shal conforte yow at the laste, And rewarden alle double richesse That rewful hertes habbeth. And as an hyne that hadde His hire er he bigonne, And whan he hath doon his devoir wel Men dooth hym oother bountee, 9220 Gyveth hym a cote above his covenaunt, {283} Right so Crist gyveth hevene Bothe to riche and to noght riche That rewfulliche libbeth; And alle that doon hir devoir wel Han double hire for hir travaille, Here forgifnesse of hir synnes, And hevene blisse after. "Ac it is but selde y-seien, As by holy seintes bokes, 9230 That God rewarded double reste To any riche wye. For muche murthe is amonges riche, As in mete and clothyng; And muche murthe in May is Amonges wilde beestes, And so forth while somer lasteth Hir solace dureth. "Ac beggeris aboute Midsomer Bred-lees thei slepe. And yet is wynter for hem worse, For weet shoed thei gone, A-furst soore and a-fyngred, And foule y-rebuked, 9244 And a-rated of riche men That ruthe is to here. Now, Lord, sende hem somer, And som maner joye, Hevene after hir hennes goyng, That here han swich defaute, For alle myghtestow have maad Noon mener than oother, And y-liche witty and wise, If thee wel hadde liked. But, Lord, have ruthe on thise riche men, 9254 {284} That rewarde noght thi prisoners. Of the good that thow hem gyvest _Ingrati_ ben manye; Ac, God, of thi goodnesse Gyve hem grace to amende. For may no derthe be hem deere, 9260 Droghte ne weet hem greve, Ne neither hete ne hayll; Have thei hir heele, Of that thei wilne and wolde Wanteth hem noght here. "Ac poore peple thi prisoners, Lord, in the put of meschief, Conforte tho creatures, That muche care suffren Thorugh derthe, thorugh droghte, 9270 Alle hir dayes here, Wo in wynter tymes For wantynge of clothes, And in somer tyme selde Soupen to the fulle. Conforte thi carefulle, Crist, in thi richesse; For how thow confortest alle creatures, Clerkes bereth witnesse: _Convertimini ad me, et salvi eritis_. 9280