ffor in astate grace lys—
And wilfully wast it a-way.
Who is fool, who is wys,
After þey lyue, alle folk wole say.
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(22)
¶ A glosere is gredy ay to craue.
Ȝeue hym no thyng, þouȝ he bede.
A lord þat wole his worschip saue,
Lerne not at a glosere to don his dede.
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Ȝeue to vertuous men þat haue nede,
Þat to god wole for þe pray:
Þe pore mannys erande, god doþ spede.
God wil not here what glosere wole say.
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(23)
¶ Alle þe þouȝtes ben but wast [Nota.]
Wiþoute contemplacioun.
ffro heritage of heuene is born o hast
Shrifte wiþoute contricioun.
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And werkys wiþoute discrecioun,
Þat ȝifte pleseþ not god to pay,
Ne preyer wiþoute deuocioun:
God nyl not here what þey say.
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(24)
¶ Sum-tyme, and a worschip felle
To a lord, in batayle, by goddis grace,
Ȝif a glosere wolde telle
Among folk, byfore his face,
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Þe lord wolde bidde hym voyde þe place.
Þou corayest ffauel, and stelest his hay.
Of alle degre, of eche astate,
After þey lyue, alle folk wole say.
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(25)
¶ A cheuenteyn may fyȝte o day,
Þe victorye wiþ hym stande;
ffor synne god mon tak it away,
And put his swerd in enemys hande.
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