And angerich I wandrede The Austyns to prove, {467} And mette with a maistre of tho men, And meklich I seyde, "Maistre, for the moder love That Marie men calleth! Knowest thou ought there thou comest A creature on erthe 540 That coude me my Crede teche, And trewelich enfourme, Withouten flateryng fare, And nothing feyne, That folweth fulliche the feith, And non other fables, Withouten gabinge of glose, As the godspelles telleth? A Minoure hath me holly behyght To helen my soule, 550 For he seith that her secte Is sykerest on erthe, And ben kepers of the keye That Chrystendom helpeth, And puriche in poverte The apostles they suweth." "Allaas!" quath the frere, "Almost I madde in mynde, To sen hough this Minoures Many men bygyleth. 560 Sothly somme of tho gomes Hath more good hymselve Than ten knyghtes that I knowe, Of catel in cofres. In fraytoure they faren best Of al the foure ordres, And usun ypocricie In al that thei werchen, {468} And prechen al of perfitnesse; But loke now, I the prey, 570 Nought but profre hem in privité A peny for a masse, And, but his name be prest, Put out myn eighe, Though he had more money hid Than marchauntes of wolle. Loke hough this loresmen Lordes betrayen, Seyn that they folwen Fully Fraunceyses rewle, 580 That in cotinge of his cope Is more cloth y-folden Than was in Fraunceis froc Whan he hem first made. And yet under that cope A cote hathe he furred With foyns, or with fichewes, Other fyn bevere, And that is cutted to the kne, And queyntly y-botend, 590 Lest any spiritual man Aspie that gyle. Fraunceys bad his brethern Bar-fot to wenden; Now han they buclede shone, For blenyng of her heles, And hosen in harde weder Y-hamled by the ancle, And spicerie sprad in her purs To parten where hem luste. 600 Lordes loveth hem wel, For they so lowe crouchen; {469} But knowen men her cautel And her queynte wordes, Thei wolde worshypen hem Nought but a litle, The ymage of ypocricie Ymped upon fendes. But, sone, gif thou wilt ben seker, Seche thou no ferther, 610 We freres beth the firste, And founded upon treuthe; Paule _primus heremita_ Put us hymselve Away into wildernesse, The world to despisen, And there we lengeden ful long, And leveden ful harde; For to alle this freren folke Weren founden in tounes, 620 And taughten untrewely, And that we wel aspiede. And for chef charyté, We chargeden us selven In amendyng of this men, We maden oure celles To ben in cytés y-set, To styghtle the puple, Prechyng and prayeng