And yvele in this y-holde In parisshes of Engelonde; For persons and parissh-preestes That sholde the peple shryve, Ben curatours called, To knowe and to hele Alle that ben hir parisshens, Penaunce to enjoigne; 14490 And sholden be ashamed in his shrift; {442} Ac shame maketh hem wende And fleen to the freres, As fals folk to Westmynstre, That borweth, and bereth it thider, And thanne biddeth frendes Yerne of forgifnesse, Or lenger yeres loone. Ac while he is in Westmynstre, He wol be bifore, 14500 And maken hym murie With oother mennes goodes. And so it fareth with muche folk That to the freres hem shryveth, As sisours and executours, Thei wol gyve the freres A parcel to preye for hem, And make hemself murye With the residue and the remenaunt That othere men bi-swonke, 14510 And suffre the dede in dette To the day of doome. Envye herfore Hatede Conscience; And freres to philosophie He fond thanne to scole, The while Coveitise and Unkyndenesse, Conscience assaillede. In Unitee holy chirche Conscience held hym, 14520 And made Pees porter To pynne the yates, Of alle tale-telleris And titeleris in ydel {443} Ypocrisie and he An hard assaut thei made, And woundede wel wikkedly Many a wis techere That with Conscience acordede And cardynale vertues. 14530 Conscience called a leche, That koude wel shryve, To go salve tho that sike ben And thorugh synne y-wounded Shrift shoop sharpe salve, And made men do penaunce For hir mys-dedes That thei wroght hadde, And that Piers were y-payed: _Redde quod debes._ 14540 Some liked noght this leche, And lettres thei sente, If any surgien were the segge That softer koude plastre. Sire Leef-to-lyve-in-lecherie Lay there and gronede, For fastynge of a Frydaye He ferde as he wolde deye. "Ther is a surgien in this sege That softe kan handle, 14550 And moore of phisik bi fer And fairer he plastreth, Oon frere Flaterere, Is phisicien and surgien." Quod Contricion to Conscience, "Do hym come to Unitee; For here is many a man {444} Hurt thorugh Ypocrisye." "We han no nede," quod Conscience, "I woot no bettre leche 14560 Than person or parisshe-preest, Penitauncer or bisshope, Save Piers the Plowman, That hath power over hem alle, And indulgence may do, But if dette lette it." "I may wel suffre," seide Conscience, "Syn ye desiren That frere Flaterere be fet And phisike yow sike." 14570