human
Fram Syny, he seide,
gpt
And fram oure Lordes sepulcre; In Bethlem and in Babiloyne, I have ben in bothe; In Armonye and Alisaundre, In manye othere places. 3560 Ye may se by my signes, That sitten on myn hatte, That I have walked ful wide In weet and in drye, And sought goode seintes For my soules helthe.
human
Knowestow aught a corsaint, That men calle Truthe? Koudestow aught wissen us the wey, Wher that wye dwelleth?
gpt
Nay, so me God helpe! Seide the gome thanne,
human
I seigh nevere palmere, With pyk ne with scrippe, {110} Asken after hym er Til now in this place.
gpt
Peter! quod a plowman, And putte forth his hed,
human
I knowe hym as kyndely As clerk doth hise bokes; 3580 Conscience and kynde wit Kenned me to his place, And diden me suren hym sikerly To serven hym for evere, Bothe to sowe and to sette, The while I swynke myghte. I have ben his folwere Al this fifty wynter, Bothe y-sowen his seed, And suwed hise beestes, 3590 Withinne and withouten Waited his profit. I dyke and I delve, I do that Truthe hoteth; Som tyme I sowe, And som tyme I thresshe; In taillours craft and tynkeris craft, What Truthe kan devyse, I weve and I wynde, And do what Truthe hoteth, 3600 For though I seye it myselfe, I serve hym to paye; I have myn hire wel, And outher whiles moore. He is the presteste paiere That povere men knoweth; He ne withhalt noon hewe his hire, That he ne hath it at even; {111} He is as lowe as a lomb, And lovelich of speche; 3610 And if ye wilneth to wite Where that he dwelleth, I shal wisse you witterly The wey to his place.
gpt
Ye, leve Piers,