Then saide I to myself, "Here semeth litel treuthe! First to blame his brother, And bakbyten hym foule, There as curteis Christ Clerliche saide, Whow myght thou in thy brothers eighe A bare mote loken, 280 And in thyn owen eighe Nought a beme toten? See fyrst on thyself, And sithen on another, And clense clene thy syght, And kepe wel thyne eighe, And for another mannes eighe Ordeyne after. And also I see coveitise Catel to fongen, 290 That Christ hath clerliche forboden, And clenliche destrueden; And sayde to his sueres For sothe on this wyse, 'Nought thy neighbors good Coveyte in no tyme.' {460} But charité and chastité Ben chased out clene. But Christ seide by her fruit Men shal hem ful knowen." 300 Thanne saide I, "certeine, syr, Thou demest ful trewe." Than thought I to frayne the first Of this foure ordres; And presed to the Prechoures, To proven hir wille. Ich highed to her house, To herken of more; And when I came to that court, I gaped aboute, 310 Swich a bild bold Y-buld upon erthe heighte Say I nought in certeyn Syththe a long tyme. I semed opon that hous, And yerne theron loked, Whow the pileres weren y-paint, And pulched ful clene, And queyntly y-corven With curious knottes; 320 With wyndowes wel y-wrought, Wyde up a-lofte, And thanne I entred in, And even forth wente; And al was walled that wone, Though it wiid were, With posternes in privité To pasen when hem liste; Orcheyardes and erberes Evesed wel clene, 330 {461} And a curious cros Craftly entayled, With tabernacles y-tight To toten al abouten. The pris of a plough-lond Of penies so rounde To aparaile that pyler Were pure litel. Than I munte me forth The mynstre to knowen, 340 And awaytede a woon Wonderly wel y-bild, With arches on everiche half, And bellyche y-corven, With crochetes on corneres, With knottes of gold, Wyde wyndowes y-wrought, Y-wryten ful thikke, Shynen with shapen sheldes, To shewen aboute, 350 With merkes of merchauntes Y-medeled betwene, Mo than twentie and two Twyse y-noumbbred. Ther is non heraud that hath Half swich a rolle, Right as a rageman Hath rekned hem newe. Tombes upon tabernacles Tylde opon lofte, 360 Housed in hornes, Harde set abouten, Of armede alabaustre Clad for the nones, {462} Maad opon marbel In many manner wyse, Knyghtes in ther conisante Clad for the nones; Alle it semed seyntes Y-sacred opon erthe; 370 And lovely ladies y-wrought Leyen by her sydes