#  Piers Plowman, Prologue 

 



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*Incipit liber de Petro Plowman prologus*  
  
IN a summer season · when soft was the sun,   
I clothed myself in a cloak as I shepherd were,   
Habit like a hermit's · unholy in works,   
And went wide in the world · wonders to hear.   
But on a May morning · on Malvern hills,   
A marvel befell me · of fairy, methought.   
I was weary with wandering · and went me to rest   
Under a broad bank · by a brook's side,   
And as I lay and leaned over · and looked into the waters   
I fell into a sleep · for it sounded so merry.  
Then began I to dream · a marvellous dream,   
That I was in a wilderness · wist I not where.   
As I looked to the east · right into the sun,   
I saw a tower on a toft · worthily built;   
A deep dale beneath · a dungeon therein,   
With deep ditches and dark · and dreadful of sight   
A fair field full of folk · found I in between,   
Of all manner of men · the rich and the poor,   
Working and wandering · as the world asketh.   
Some put them to plow · and played little enough,   
At setting and sowing · they sweated right hard   
And won that which wasters · by gluttony destroy.  
  
Some put them to pride · and apparelled themselves so   
In a display of clothing · they came disguised.   
To prayer and penance · put themselves many,   
All for love of our Lord · living hard lives,   
In hope for to have · heavenly bliss.   
Such as anchorites and hermits · that kept them in their cells,   
And desired not the country · around to roam;   
Nor with luxurious living · their body to please.  
  
And some chose trade · they fared the better,   
As it seemeth to our sight · that such men thrive.  
And some to make mirth · as minstrels know how,   
And get gold with their glees · guiltlessly, I hold.   
But jesters and janglers · children of Judas,   
Feigning their fancies · and making folk fools,   
They have wit at will · to work, if they would;   
Paul preacheth of them · I'll not prove it here --   
*Qui turpiloquium loquitur* · is Lucifer's hind.  
  
Tramps and beggars · went quickly about,   
Their bellies and their bags · with bread well crammed;   
Cadging for their food · fighting at ale;   
In gluttony, God knows · going to bed,   
And getting up with ribaldry · the thieving knaves!  
  
Sleep and sorry sloth · ever pursue them.   
Pilgrims and palmers · pledged them together   
To seek Saint James · and saints in Rome.   
They went forth on their way · with many wise tales,   
And had leave to lie · all their life after --   
I saw some that said · they had sought saints:   
Yet in each tale that they told · their tongue turned to lies   
More than to tell truth · it seemed by their speech.   
Hermits, a heap of them · with hooked staves,   
Were going to Walsingham · and their wenches too;   
Big loafers and tall · that loth were to work,   
Dressed up in capes · to be known from others;   
And so clad as hermits · their ease to have.  
  
I found there friars · of all the four orders,   
Preaching to the people · for profit to themselves,   
Explaining the Gospel · just as they liked,   
To get clothes for themselves · they construed it as they would.   
Many of these master friars · may dress as they will,   
For money and their preaching · both go together.   
For since charity hath been chapman · and chief to shrive lords,   
Many miracles have happened · within a few years.   
Except Holy Church and they · agree better together,   
Great mischief on earth · is mounting up fast.  
  
There preached a pardoner · as if he priest were:   
He brought forth a brief · with bishops' seals thereon,   
And said that himself · might absolve them all   
From falseness in fasting and of broken vows.  
  
Laymen believed him · welcomed his words,  
And came up on their knees · to kiss his seals;   
He cozened them with his brevet · dimmed their eyes,   
And with his parchment · got his rings and brooches:   
Thus they gave their gold · gluttons to keep.   
And lend it to such louts · as follow lechery.   
If the bishop were holy · and worth both his ears,   
His seal should not be sent · to deceive the people.   
But a word 'gainst bishop · the knave never preacheth.   
Parish priest and pardoner · share all the silver   
That the parish poor would have · if he were not there.  
Parsons and parish priests · complained to the bishop   
That their parishes were poor · since the pestilence time,   
And asked leave and licence · in London to dwell   
And sing *requiems* for stipends · for silver is sweet.  
  
Bishops and bachelors · both masters and doctors,   
That have charge under Christ · and the tonsure as token   
And sign that they should · shrive their parishioners,   
Preach and pray for them · and feed the poor,   
These lodge in London in Lent · and at other times too.   
Some serve the king · and his silver count   
In Chequer and Chancery courts · making claim for his debts   
Of wards and of wardmotes · waifs and estrays.   
And some serve as servants · to lords and ladies,   
And instead of stewards · sit in session to judge.   
Their mass and their matins · their canonical hours,   
Are said undevoutly · I fear at the last   
Lest Christ in his council · accurse will full many.   
I perceived of the power · that Peter had to keep,   
To bind and to unbind · as the Book telleth,   
How he left it with love · as our Lord ordained,   
Amongst four virtues · the best of all virtues,   
That cardinal are called · for they hinge the gates   
Where Christ is in glory · to close and to shut   
And to open it to them · and show heavenly bliss.   
But of cardinals at Rome · that received that name   
And power presumed in them · a pope to make,   
That they have Peter's power · deny it I will not;   
For to love and learning · that election belongeth,   
Therefore I can, and yet cannot · of that court speak more.  
  
Then came there a king · with knighthood before him,  
The might of the commons · made him to reign;   
Then came Mother-Wit · and he made wise clerks   
For to counsel the king · and the commons save.  
  
The king and the knighthood · the clergy as well,   
Planned that the commons · should provide for themselves.  
  
The commons contrived · of Mother-Wit crafts,   
And for profit of all · they plowmen ordained   
To till and travail · as true life asketh.   
The king and the commons · and Mother-Wit too   
Cause by law and loyalty · each man to know his own.  
  
Then looked up a lunatic · a lean thing withal,   
And kneeling before the king well speaking said:   
`Christ keep thee sir King · and thy kingdom,   
And grant thee to rule the realm · so Loyalty may love thee,   
And for thy rightful ruling · be rewarded in heaven.'   
Then in the air on high · an angel of heaven   
Stooped and spoke in Latin · for simple men could not   
Discuss nor judge · that which should justify them,   
But should suffer and serve · therefore said the angel:

*Sum Rex, sum Princeps: neutram fortasse deinceps;*   
*O qui jura regis Christi specialia regis, hoc quod agas melius Justus es,*   
*esto pius!*

*Nudum jus a te vestiri vult pietate; qualia vis metere talia grand sere.*   
*Si jus nudatur nudo de jure metatur; si seritur pietas de pietate*   
*metas.*

Then an angry buffoon · a glutton of words,   
To the angel on high · answered after:

*Dum rex a regere dicatur nomen habere,*   
*Nomen habet sine re nisi studet jura tenere.*

Then began all the commons · to cry out in Latin,   
For counsel of the king · construe how-so he would:

*Praecepta regis sunt nobis vincula legis*.

With that there ran a rout of rats at once,   
And small mice with them · more than thousand,   
And came to a council · for their common profit;   
For a cat from the Court · came when he liked   
And o'er leaped them lightly · and caught them at will,   
Played with them perilously · and pushed them about.   
'For dread of divers dangers · we dare not look about;   
If we grumble at his game · he will attack us all,   
Scratch us or clutch us · and in his claws hold us,  
So that we loathe life · ere he lets us go.   
Could we with any wit · his will withstand   
We might be lords above him · and live at our ease.'  
  
A rat of renown · most ready of tongue   
Said, as a sovereign · help to himself:   
'I have seen men,' quoth he · 'in the city of London   
Bearing bright necklaces · about their necks,   
Some with collars of skilful work · uncoupled they wander   
Both in warrens and wastes · wherever they like;   
And otherwhile they are elsewhere · as I tell you.   
Were there a bell on their collars · by Jesus, I think   
Men might know where they went · and get out of their way!   
And right so,' quoth that rat · 'reason me showeth   
To buy a brass bell · or one of bright silver   
Make it fast to a collar · for our common profit,   
And hang it on the cat's neck · then we may hear   
When he romps or rests · or runneth to play.   
And if he wants play · then we may look out   
And appear in his presence · the while he play liketh,   
And if he gets angry, · beware and shun all his paths.'   
All this rout of rats · to this plan assented.   
But though the bell was bought · and on the collar hanged,   
There was not a rat in the rout · for all the realm of France   
That dare bind on the bell · about the cat's neck,   
Nor hang it round her ears · all England to win;   
They held themselves not bold · and their counsel feeble,   
Esteemed their labour as lost · and all their long plotting.  
  
A mouse that knew much more · as it seemed to me,   
Ran forth determined · and stood before them all,   
And to the rout of rats · rehearsed these words:   
'Though we killed the cat · yet there would come another,   
To scratch us and all our kind · though we creep under benches.   
Therefore I counsel all the commons · to let the cat be,   
And be we never so bold · to show to him the bell;   
For I heard my sire say · now seven years ago,   
"When the cat is a kitten · the Court is right wretched,"   
As witnesseth Holy Writ · whoso will it read:

*Vae tibi, terra, cujus rex puer est*.

No man can have rest there · for the rats by night;   
While the cat catcheth conies · he covets not our carrion,   
But feeds himself on venison · may we never defame him!  
For better is a little loss · than a long sorrow;   
He's the fear among us all · whereby we miss worse things.   
For many men's malt · we mice would destroy,   
And the riot of rats · would rend men's clothes,   
Were it not for that Court cat · that can leap in among you;   
For had ye rats your will · ye could not rule yourselves.   
As for me,' quoth the mouse · 'I see so much to come   
That cat nor kitten never shall · by my counsel be harmed,   
Nor carping of this collar · that cost me nothing.   
Though it had cost me full dear · I would not own to it   
But suffer him to live · and do just as he liketh:   
Coupled and uncoupled · to catch what they can.   
Therefore each wise wight I warn · to watch well his own.'  
  
What this dream meaneth · ye men that be merry,   
Divine ye, for I never dare · by dear God in heaven!  
  
There hovered an hundred · in caps of silk,   
Serjeants they seemed · who practised at Bar,   
Pleading the law · for pennies and pounds,   
And never for love of our Lord · unloosing their lips.   
You might better measure the mist · on the Malvern hills,   
Than get a sound out of their mouth · unless money were showed.   
Barons and burgesses · and bondmen also   
I saw in this crowd · as you shall hear later.   
Bakers and brewers · and butchers a-many,   
Woollen-websters · and weavers of linen,   
Tailors and tinkers · toll-takers in markets,   
Masons and miners · and men of all crafts.   
Of all kinds of labourers · there stood forth some;   
Ditchers and diggers · that do their work ill   
And spend all the day singing · '*Dieu vous sauve, dame Emme!*'  
Cooks and their knaves · cried 'Pies, hot pies!   
Good pork and good goose! · Come, dine! Come, dine!'  
  
Taverners unto them · told the same tale:   
'White wine of Alsace · red wine of Gascony,   
Wine of the Rhine, of Rochelle · to help settle your meat!'   
All this I saw sleeping · and seven times more.  
  
   
  
This is the end of the Prologue of *Piers Plowman*; the section called "The Vision" (Passus I to Passus VII follows).  
  
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\[This text is from William Langland, *The Book Concerning Piers the Plowman*, tr. Donald and Rachel Attwater, ed. Rachel Attwater. London and New York. 1957; printed with the permission of the publisher.\]