"A trefle," quath he, "trewely! His treweth is ful litel; He dynede nought with Dominic, Sithe Christ deide. {472} For with the prynces of pryde The Prechours dwellen; They ben so digne as the devel That droppeth fro heven, With hartes of heynesse, Whough halwen the cherches, 710 And deleth in devynyté As dogges doth bones. Thei medeleth with mesages And mariages of grete; Thei leeven with lordes With lesynges y-nowe; Thei biggeth hem bichopriches With bagges of gold; Thei wilneth worchipes:-- But waite on her dedes. 720 Harkne at Herdforthe How that they werchen, And loke when that they lyven And leeve as thou fyndest. They ben counseylours of kynges, Christ wot the sothe, Whou thei curreth kynges And her bak claweth. God leve hem laden wel In lyvynge of hevene, 730 And glose hem nought for her good To greven her soules. I pray the, where ben they pryvé With any pore whightes That may nought amenden her hous, Ne amenden hemselven? They prechen in proud herte, And preyseth her ordre, {473} And werdlich worchype Wilneth in erthe. 740 Leeve it wel, lef man, And men right lokede, There is more pryvé pryde In Prechoures hertes, Than there lefte in Lucifere, Or he were lowe fallen. They bene dygne as dich-watere, That dogges in bayteth. Lok a ribaut of hem That can nought wel reden 750 His Rewel ne his Respondes, But be pure rote; Als as he were a connyng clerk, He casteth the lawes Nought lowly, but lordly, And lesynges lyeth. For right as Minoures Most hypocrice useth, Ryght so ben Prechoures proude Purlyche in herte. 760 "But, chrysten creatoure, We Carmes firste comen, Even in Elyes tyme, First of hem alle; And lyven by oure Lady, And lelly her serven, In clene commun liif Kepen us out of synne; Nowt proude as Prechoures beth, But preyen ful stylle. 770 We couuen on no quentyse, Christ wot the southe! {474} But bisyeth us in oure bedes, As us best holdeth. And, therfore, leeve leelman, Leeve that iche sigge, A masse of us meene men Is of more mede, And passeth alle prayers Of this proude freres.-- 780 And thou wilt ghyven us any good, I wolde ye here graunten To taken al thy penaunce In peril of my soule; And tho thou conne nought thy Crede, Clene the assoyle, So that thou mowe amenden oure house With money other elles, With som catel, other corn, Or cuppes of sylvere." 790