‘Charite,’ quod I tho, ‘That is a thyng forsothe
That maistres comenden moche; where may hit be yfounde?
I have ylyved in Londone monye longe yeres
And fonde I nevere, in faith, as freres hit precheth,
Charite, that chargeth naught, ne chyt, thogh men greve hym,
As Poul in his pistul of hym bereth wittenesse:
  Non inflatur, non est ambiciosa, non querit que sua sunt.
I knewe nevere, by Crist, clerk nother lewed
That he ne askede aftur his and othere-whiles coveytede
Thyng that nedede hym nauhte, and nyme hit, yf he myhte!
For thogh men souhte alle the sektes of sustrene and of bretherne,
And fynde hym, but figuratyfly, a ferly me thynketh;
  Hic in enigmate, tunc facie ad faciem.
And so I trowe treuly, by that men telleth of Charite.’
 ‘Charite is a childische thyng, as holychurche witnesseth,
  Nisi efficiamini sicut parvuli, non intrabitis in regnum celorum,
As proud of a peny as of a pounde of golde,
And as glad of a goune of a gray russet
As of a cote of camaca or of clene scarlet.
He is glad with alle glad, as gurles that lawhen alle,
And sory when he seth men sory—as thow seest childerne
Lawhe ther men lawheth and loure ther othere louren.
And when a man swereth for soth, for sooth he hit troweth;
Weneth he that no wyhte wolde lye and swere,
Ne that eny gome wolde gyle othere, ne greve,
For drede of god that so gode is, and thus-gates us techeth:
  Quodcunque vultis ut faciant vobis homines, facite eis.
Hath he no lykynge to lawhe, ne to likene men to scorne.
Alle seknesses and sorwes for solaces he hit taketh,
And alle manere meschiefs as munstracie of hevene.
Of deth ne of derthe drad he nevere,
Ne mysliked thogh he lore, or lened that ilke
That nevere payed peny ageyn in places there he borwede.’
 ‘Who fynt hym his fode?’ quod I, or what frendes hath he,
Rentes other richesse to releve him at his nede?’
 ‘Of rentes ne of othere rychesse ne reccheth he nevere.
A frende he hath that fynd him, that faylede hym nevere:
One Aperis-tu-manum alle thynges hym fyndeth;
Fiat-voluntas-tua festeth hym uch a daye.
And also he can clergie, credo-in-deum-patrem ,
And portraye wel the pater-noster and peynten hit with avees .
And other-while his wone is to wende in pilgrimages
There pore men and prisones ben, and paye for here fode,
Clotheth hem and conforteth hem and of Crist precheth hem,
What sorwe he soffrede in ensaumple of us alle
That poverte and penaunce, pacientlyche ytake,
Worth moche meryte to that man that hit may soffre.
And when he hath visited thus fetered folke and other folke pore,
Thenne yerneth he into youthe and yeepliche he secheth
Pruyde, with alle portinaunces, and pakketh hem togyderes
And laveth hem in the lavendrie, laboravi-in-gemitu-meo ,
Bouketh hem at his breste and beteth hit ofte,
And with warm water of his yes woketh hit til hit white.
  Lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor.
And thenne syngeth he when he doth so, and som tyme wepynge:
  Cor contritum et humiliatum, deus, non despicies.’
 ‘Were I with hym, by Crist,’ quod I, ‘I wolde nevere fro hym,
Thogh I my bylive sholde begge aboute at menne hacches.
Where clerkes knowe hym nat,’ quod I, ‘that kepen holy-churche?’
 ‘Peres the Plouhman,’ quod he, ‘moste parfitlyche hym knoweth.
  Et vidit deus cogitationes eorum.
By clothyng ne by carpynge knowe shaltow hym nevere,
Ac thorw werkes thow myhte wyte wher-forth he walketh.
  Operibus credite.
He is the murieste of mouthe at mete ther he sitteth,
And compenable in companye, as Crist hymsulve techeth:
  Nolite tristes fieri, sicut ypocrite.
I have ysey hym mysulve somtyme in russet,
Bothe in gray and in grys and in gult harneys,
And also gladliche he hit gaf to gomes that hit nedede.
Edmond and Edward, ayther were seyntes,
And cheef charite with hem, and chaste all here lyves.
I have yseye Charite also syngen and rede,
Ryden, and rennen in raggede clothes;
Ac biddyng als a beggare byhelde I hym nevere.
Ac in riche robes rathest he walketh,
Ycalled and ycrimyled and his croune yshave.
And in a frere frocke he was founde ones,
Ac hit is fer and fele yer, in Franceys tyme;
In that sekte sethe, to selde hath he be founde.
Riche men he recomendeth, and of here robes taketh,
Of tho that lelelyche lyven, and loven, and byleyven.
  Beatus est dives sine macula.
In kynges court he cometh, yf his consaile be trewe;
Ac yf covetyse be of his consaile he wol nat come therynne.
Amonges the comune in court he cometh bote selde,
For braulyng and bac-bitynge and berynge of fals witnesse.
In constorie bifore comissarie he cometh nat ful ofte,
For over-long is here lawe but yf thay lacche sulver.
With bisshopes he wolde be, for beggares sake,
Ac avarise other-whiles halt hym withoute the gate.
Kynges and cardynals knewen hym sum tyme,
Ac thorw coveytyse and his consaile ycongeyed is he ofte.
 And who-so coveyteth to knowe hym, such a kynde hym foleweth
As I tolde the with tonge, a litel tyme ypassed;
For nother he ne beggeth ne biddeth, ne borweth to yelde.
He halt hit for a vyce and a foul shame
To begge or to borwe, but of god one.
  Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie.’