|
"O deere maister," quod this sike man, |
| "How han ye fare sith that March bigan? |
| I saugh yow noght this fourtenyght or moore." |
120 | "God woot," quod he, "laboured have I ful soore, |
| And specially, for thy savacion |
| Have I seyd many a precious orison, |
| And for oure othere freendes, God hem blesse! |
| I have to day been at youre chirche at messe, |
125 | And seyd a sermon after my symple wit, |
| Nat al after the text of hooly writ; |
| For it is hard to yow, as I suppose, |
| And therfore wol I teche yow al the glose. |
| Glosynge is a glorious thyng, certeyn, |
130 | For lettre sleeth, so as we clerkes seyn. |
| There have I taught hem to be charitable, |
| And spende hir good ther it is resonable; |
| And there I saugh oure dame. A! where is she?" |
| "Yond in the yerd I trowe that she be," |
135 | Seyde this man, "and she wol come anon." |
|
| "O my dear master," whispered this sick man, |
| "How have you fared since this month March began? |
| "I've seen you not this fortnight, aye or more." |
120 | "God knows," said he, "that I have toiled full sore; |
| And very specially for your salvation |
| Have I said precious prayers, and at each station, |
| And for our other friends, whom may God bless! |
| I have today been to your church, at Mass, |
125 | And preached a sermon after my poor wit, |
| Not wholly from the text of holy writ, |
| For that is hard and baffling in the main; |
| And therefore all its meaning I'll explain. |
| Glosing's a glorious thing, and that's certain, |
130 | For letters kill, as scholars say with pain. |
| Thus have I taught them to be charitable, |
| And spend their money reasonably, as well. |
| And there I saw your dame- ah, where is she?" |
| "Yonder within the yard I think she'll be," |
135 | Said this sick man, "and she will come anon." |
|