"Certeyn, felawe," quath the frere, "Withouten any fayle, Of al men upon mold, We Minorities most sheweth The pure aposteles liif, With penance on erthe, And suen hem in sanctité, And sufferen wel harde. 210 We haunten no tavernes, Ne hobelen abouten; At marketes and miracles We medeleth us never; We hondlen no moneye, But monelich faren, And haven hunger at the mete, At ich a mel ones. We haven forsaken the world, And in wo libbeth, 220 In penaunce and poverte, And prechethe the puple By ensample of oure liif Soules to helpen; And in poverte preien For al oure parteneres, That gyveth us any good God to honouren, {458} Other bel other book, Or bred to our foode, 230 Other catel, other cloth To coveren with oure bones. For we buldeth a burwgh, A brod and a large, A chirch and a chapitle, With chaumbers a-lofte; With wide wyndowes y-wrought, And walles wel heye, That mote ben portreid and paint, And pulched ful clene, 240 With gay glitering glas Glowyng as the sunne. And mightestou amenden us With moneye of thyn owen, Thou shouldest knely bifore Christ In compas of gold, In the wyde window west-ward Wel neigh in the myddel, And saint Fraunceis hymselfe Shal folden the in his cope, 250 And present the to the Trinité, And praye for thy synnes. Thy name shal noblich ben wryten And wrought for the nones, And in remembraunce of the Y-rad there for evere. And, brother, be thou nought a-ferd; Bythenk in thyne herte, Though thou conne nought thy Crede, Care thou no-more! 260 I shal asoilen the, syr, And setten it on my soule; {459} And thou may maken this good, Thenk thou non other." "Sir," I sayde, "in certaine I shal gon and asaye." And he set on me his hond, And asoiled me clene, And there I parted him fro Wythouten and peyne; 270 In covenaunt that I come agayne, Christ he me be-taught.