This is a partial Anglish translation of Piers Ploughman, a Middle English poem by William Langland.
In a summer
I myself into scrudes as if I ƿere a scepherd
I ƿore ƿeed like a unholy of ƿorks,
and ƿent ƿide into þis ƿorld, ƿiþ its ƿonders to hear.
on a morning, on Malfern Hills,
a befell me, a fairys doing, meþougt.
I ƿas ƿeary and and ƿent me to rest
under a broad bank by a ,
and as I lay and leaned ofer and looked into þe ƿaters
I slumbered into a sleeping, for it so merry.
Þen began I to a
I saƿ þat I ƿas in a ƿilderness, I nefer hƿere.
as I beheld into þe east toƿards þe sun,
I saƿ a ture on a hill, ƿell made.
A deep dale ƿas beneaþ, a þerein
ƿiþ deep dark dicces, dreadful of sigt.
A fair feeld full of folk fund I þere betƿeen,
tƿas of all kind of men, þe and þe ric,
ƿorking and ƿandering as þe ƿorld asks.
Sum put to þe plue, playing ,
setting and soƿing, to
to ƿin þat hƿic by .
And sum put emselfs to pride, to mac,
in of fair cloþing came .
In and many anoþer put emselfs,
all for þe luf of ure lord lifing stern
in hope to haf bliss
Hy lifed as and þat hold emselfs in stoƿs,
ƿiscing not for land to ƿander abute in,
nor for lifelihood to .
And sum ceos trade, hy fared þe better
as it seems to ure sigt þat suc men þrife.
And sum make mirþ as
and gold ƿiþ her glee; I hold em.
not japers and jangelers, cildren of Judas,
her , making emselfs fools,
and haf ƿit at ƿill to ƿork if hy ƿuld.
Hƿat Paul teaces of em, I ƿill not say here;
Qui loquitur turpiloquium is Lucifers hind.
In þis same land and fast abute,
her bellies and her bags breadful crammed,
fiting for her food, figting ofer ale.
In , God , hy go to bed
and rise ƿiþ leƿdness, þe þeefing knafes;
sleepy and sorry sloþness, efer seek em.
Meanhƿile, pilgrims and palmers emselfs togeþer
to seek Jame and oþer in Rome.
Hy ƿent forþ in her ƿay ƿiþ many ƿise tales,
and had leaf to lie all her life after.
I saƿ sum þat said hy had sougt ,
get in eac tale þat hy told her tungs ƿere set to lie
more þan to speak sooþ, it seemed by her speec.
A heap of ƿiþ hooked stafes
ƿent to Ƿalsingham, ƿiþ her ƿences coming after.
Þese ƿere great, tall loafers hƿo ƿere loaþe to ,
cloþed in to be knoƿn from oþers,
and as to haf her .
I fund þere friars of all four orders
preacing to þe to gain for emselfs,
teacing þe gospel huefer hy liked.
For greed of hy tƿisted þe gospel at ƿill.
Many of þese master friars may cloþe emselfs at her liking,
for her and her goods are in step togeþer.
Sins almsgifing has been a tradesman, and ceef to scrive lords,
many haf befallen in a feƿ geres.
But hy and þe Holy Circ hold better togeþer;
þe most misbehafing on is heaping up fast.
Þere preaced a forgeefer as if he ƿere a preest.
He brougt forþ a bull ƿiþ biscops ,
and said þat he cud forgeef em all
of her , and broken oaþs.
men beleefed him ƿell and liked his ƿords,
And came up on her knees to kiss his seals.
He em ƿiþ his brefet, dimmed her eyes,
And ƿiþ his got his rings and brooces.
Þus hy geafe her gold, to keep
And lend it to suc lutes as folloƿ leƿdness.
If þe biscop ƿere holy and ƿorþ boþ his ears,
His seal sculd not be sent to sƿike þe ,
But a ƿord against biscop þe knafe nefer preac.
Parisc preest and forgeefer scare all þe silfer
Þat þe parisc ƿuld haf if he ƿere not þere.
Parsons and parisc preests bemoaned to þe biscop
Þat her parisces ƿere sins þe time,
And asked leaf in London to dƿell,
And sing deaþsongs for ƿages, for silfer is sƿeet.
Biscops and bacelors, boþ masters and doctors
Þat haf under Crist, and þe as token
And mark þat hy sculd scrife her flock,
Preac and for em and feed þe .
Þese locg in London in Lent, and at oþer times too.
Sum þe king, and his silfer
In making for his
Of ƿards and of ƿardmoots, castaƿays and runaƿays.
And sum ƿork as to lords and ladies,
And sit instead of steƿards in to
Her mass and her . Her of canon
Are said I fear at þe last
Lest Crist in his damn full many.
I saƿ of þe þat Peter had to keep,
To bind and to unbind as þe book tells,
Hu he left it ƿiþ luf as ure Lord bade
Amongst four , þe best of all
Þat are called cardinal, for hy hincg þe gates
Hƿere Crist is in , to close and to scut
And to open it to em and scoƿ heafenly bliss.
But of cardinals at Rome þat þat name
And in em a pope to make.
Þat hy haf Peters migt it I ƿill not,
For to luf and learning þat election belongs.
Þerefore I can, and get cannot, of þat speak more.
Þen came þere a king ƿiþ knigthood before him.