Confessio Amantis | Page 5

as it is
founded
Schal stonde or elles be confounded; 290
Who that only
for Cristes sake
Desireth cure forto take,
And noght for pride of
thilke astat,
To bere a name of a prelat,
He schal be resoun do profit

In holy cherche upon the plit
That he hath set his conscience;
Bot
in the worldes reverence
Ther ben of suche manie glade,
Whan thei
to thilke astat ben made, 300
Noght for the merite of the charge,

Bot for thei wolde hemself descharge
Of poverte and become grete;

And thus for Pompe and for beyete
The Scribe and ek the Pharisee

Of Moises upon the See
In the chaiere on hyh ben set;
Wherof
the feith is ofte let,
Which is betaken hem to kepe.
In Cristes cause
alday thei slepe, 310
Bot of the world is noght foryete;
For wel is
him that now may gete
Office in Court to ben honoured.

The
stronge coffre hath al devoured
Under the keye of avarice
The
tresor of the benefice,
Wherof the povere schulden clothe
And ete
and drinke and house bothe;
The charite goth al unknowe,
For thei
no grein of Pite sowe: 320
And slouthe kepeth the libraire
Which
longeth to the Saintuaire;
To studie upon the worldes lore
Sufficeth
now withoute more;
Delicacie his swete toth
Hath fostred so that it
fordoth
Of abstinence al that ther is.
And forto loken over this,
If
Ethna brenne in the clergie,
Al openly to mannes ije 330
At
Avynoun thexperience
Therof hath yove an evidence,
Of that men
sen hem so divided.
And yit the cause is noght decided;
Bot it is
seid and evere schal,
Betwen tuo Stoles lyth the fal,
Whan that men
wenen best to sitte:
In holy cherche of such a slitte
Is for to rewe un

to ous alle;
God grante it mote wel befalle 340
Towardes him which
hath the trowthe.
Bot ofte is sen that mochel slowthe,
Whan men
ben drunken of the cuppe,
Doth mochel harm, whan fyr is uppe,

Bot if somwho the flamme stanche;
And so to speke upon this
branche,
Which proud Envie hath mad to springe,
Of Scisme,
causeth forto bringe
This newe Secte of Lollardie,
And also many
an heresie 350
Among the clerkes in hemselve.
It were betre dike
and delve
And stonde upon the ryhte feith,
Than knowe al that the
bible seith
And erre as somme clerkes do.
Upon the hond to were a
Schoo
And sette upon the fot a Glove
Acordeth noght to the behove

Of resonable mannes us:
If men behielden the vertus 360
That
Crist in Erthe taghte here,
Thei scholden noght in such manere,

Among hem that ben holden wise,
The Papacie so desguise
Upon
diverse eleccioun,
Which stant after thaffeccioun
Of sondry londes
al aboute:
Bot whan god wole, it schal were oute,
For trowthe mot
stonde ate laste.
Bot yet thei argumenten faste 370
Upon the Pope
and his astat,
Wherof thei falle in gret debat;
This clerk seith yee,
that other nay,
And thus thei dryve forth the day,
And ech of hem
himself amendeth
Of worldes good, bot non entendeth
To that
which comun profit were.
Thei sein that god is myhti there,
And
schal ordeine what he wile,
Ther make thei non other skile 380

Where is the peril of the feith,
Bot every clerk his herte leith
To
kepe his world in special,
And of the cause general,
Which unto
holy cherche longeth,
Is non of hem that underfongeth
To schapen
eny resistence:
And thus the riht hath no defence,
Bot ther I love,
ther I holde.
Lo, thus tobroke is Cristes folde, 390
Wherof the flock
withoute guide
Devoured is on every side,
In lacke of hem that ben
unware
Schepherdes, whiche her wit beware
Upon the world in
other halve.
The scharpe pricke in stede of salve
Thei usen now,
wherof the hele
Thei hurte of that thei scholden hele;
And what
Schep that is full of wulle
Upon his back, thei toose and pulle, 400

Whil ther is eny thing to pile:
And thogh ther be non other skile
Bot
only for thei wolden wynne,
Thei leve noght, whan thei begynne,


Upon her acte to procede,
Which is no good schepherdes dede.
And
upon this also men sein,
That fro the leese which is plein
Into the
breres thei forcacche
Her Orf, for that thei wolden lacche 410
With
such duresce, and so bereve
That schal upon the thornes leve
Of
wulle, which the brere hath tore;
Wherof the Schep ben al totore
Of
that the hierdes make hem lese.
Lo, how thei feignen chalk for chese,

For though thei speke and teche wel,
Thei don hemself therof no
del:
For if the wolf come in the weie,
Her gostly Staf is thanne
aweie, 420
Wherof thei scholde her flock defende;
Bot if the povere
Schep offende
In eny thing, thogh it be lyte,
They ben al redy forto
smyte;
And thus, how evere that thei tale,
The strokes falle upon the
smale,
And upon othre that ben grete
Hem lacketh herte forto bete.

So that under the clerkes lawe
Men sen the Merel al mysdrawe,
430
I wol noght seie in general,
For ther ben somme in special
In
whom that alle vertu duelleth,
And tho ben, as thapostel telleth,

That god of his eleccioun
Hath cleped to perfeccioun
In the manere
as Aaron was:
Thei ben nothing in thilke cas
Of Simon, which the
foldes gate
Hath lete, and goth in othergate, 440
Bot thei gon in the
rihte weie.
Ther ben also somme, as men seie,
That folwen Simon
ate hieles,
Whos carte goth upon the whieles
Of coveitise and
worldes Pride,
And