(18)
¶ Caste þe not to couetys,
Ȝe þat ryȝtwys werryours be,
But loke where riȝt querel lys;
Chastise þe rebell in charite.
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Þere god is frend, his foomen fle;
Ȝe thar not counte hem at o pete.
God doþ batayle, and not ȝe;
fforthy, with god of pes ȝe trete.
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(19)
¶ And ȝe in batayle haue maystrie,
And fortune serue, and god ȝow spede,
Thank god þe victorie,
And holde it not ȝoure owen dede.
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Serue god in loue and drede,
And be not proud of ȝoure byȝete.
After ȝoure werkis, wayte aftur ȝoure mede,
And so wiþ god of pes ȝe trete.
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(20)
¶ Ȝif a clerk haue þurgh hap
Cure of soules or bischopriche,
He hat not bischop, he hat a byshap;
Make oþere after his werkis like.
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To kepe his shep fro helle tike,
In folde go, amonge hem blete;
Saf and sounde brynge hem y-lyk,
Bytwen god and hem to trete.
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(21)
¶ Benefice of holychirche first was graunted,
For prestis, holy lyf to lede;
Dryue out synne, suffre non be haunted;
Here non oþer to do his dede.
Line 164
Þe werkman is worþy his mede
In felde, in toun, and in strete.
Teche vnwys, helpe hem þat nede,
Byfore god for hem to trete.
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