Classic Poem

Jak, to oure abite
be we not weddid
more than eny preest is
weddid to his coroun,
that is over growun with heer,
and he preest nevere the lesse;
or ellis shulde every barbour
make newe preestes.
Rigt so oure clothis maken us
not men of religion,
but oonli oure profession
byndith us to the stake;
and so apostasie
mowen we maken in oure soule,
liche men of religion
abidinge in oure abitis.
If Sathanas were transfigurid
into his former fairnesse,
trowist thou he were ougt ellis
but a dampnid aungel?
and so not for the levynge of oure clothis
we be not punishid,
but bicause it bitokeneth
forsakyng of oure reule;
and, Jacke, no more than thi sadil
makith thin hors a mere,
no more makith oure abitis
monkes ne freris.
Jak, of oure presciouse clothis
fast thou carpist,
the which ben so fyne
that noman werith better.
Every man may perseyve apertli,
Jakke, that thou liest.
Were we no sendal ne satyn,
ne goldun clothis,
and these passen in presciousitee
many foold ouris.
But if my cloth be over presciouse,
Jakke, blame the werer;
ffor myn ordre hath ordeyned
al in good mesure.
Thou axist me, Jacke, of my grete hood,
what that it meneth,
my scapelarie and my wide cope,
and the knottide girdil.
What meenith thi tipet, Jakke,
as longe as a stremer,
that hangith longe bihinde,
and kepith thee not hoot?
an hool cloith of scarlet
may not make a gowne;
the pokes of purchace
hangen to the erthe,
and the cloith of oo man
mygte hele half a doseyne.
Why is thi gowne, Jakke,
widder than thi cote,
and thi cloke al above
as round as a belle,
sith taille mygte serve
to kepe thee from coold?
Jak, answere thou to that oon,
and I shal to that other.
My grete coope that is so wiid,
signefieth charité,
that largeli longith to be sprad
to sibbe and to frende,
figurid in the faire cloith
of Salomons table,
and bi wedding garnement
that Crist hadde at his feeste.
My greet hood behynde,
shapun as a sheeld,
suffraunce in adversitee
sothely it scheweth,
herbi to reseyve repreef
for oure Goddis sake;
or ellis bisynesse of oure feith
it may wel bitokene,
whiche that ge Lollardes
constreyne gou to distroie.
The scapelarie also
that kevereth the schuldris,
it bitokeneth boxumnesse
dewe unto oure prelatis,
and boxomly bere burthuns
that they wole leyen upon us.
Off the knottide girdel
knowe I no mysterie;
therfore what it meeneth
axe frere menours.
But, Jacke, amonge oure chateryng,
git wolde I wite,
whi that the Lollardis
weren moost greye clothis;
I trowe to shewe the colour
that signefieth symplenesse,
and withinne, seith Crist,
ge ben ravenous wolves.