Piers Plowman - Maybe You Like It

Passus Eight
8.001: Thus yrobed in russet I romed aboute
8.002: Al a somer seson for to seke Dowel,
8.003: And frayned ful ofte of folk that I mette
8.004: If any wight wiste wher Dowel was at inne,
8.005: And what man he myghte be of many man I asked.
8.006: Was nevere wight as I wente that me wisse kouthe
8.007: Where this leode lenged, lasse ne moore —
8.008: Til it bifel on a Friday two freres I mette,
8.009: Maistres of the Menours, men of grete witte.
8.010: I hailsed hem hendely, as I hadde ylerned,
8.011: And preide hem, pur churite, er thei passed ferther,
8.012: If they knewe any contree or costes [aboute]
8.013: Where that Dowel dwelieth — "Dooth me to witene;
8.014: For [ye] be men of this moolde that moost wide walken,
8.015: And knowen contrees and courtes and many kynnes places —
8.016: Bothe princes paleises and povere mennes cotes,
8.017: And Dowel and Do-yvele, wher thei dwelle bothe.'
8.018: "[Marie!]', quod the Menours, " [amonges us he dwelleth],
8.019: And evere hath, as I hope, and evere shal herafter.'
8.020: "Contra!' quod I as a clerc, and comsed to disputen,
8.021: And seide, "Soothly, Sepcies in die cadit iustus.
8.022: Sevene sithes, seith the Book, synneth the rightfulle,
8.023: And whoso synneth,' I seide, " [certes] dooth yvele, as me
thynketh,
8.024: And Dowel and Do-yvele mowe noght dwelle togideres.
8.025: Ergo he nys noght alwey at hoom amonges yow freres:
8.026: He is outhemhile elliswhere to wisse the peple.'
8.027: " I shal seye thee, my sone,' seide the frere thanne,
8.028: "How seven sithes the sadde man synneth on the day.
8.029: By a forbisne,' quod the frere, "I shal thee faire shewe.
8.030: "Lat brynge a man in a boot amydde a brode watre:
8.031: The wynd and the water and the [waggyng of the boot]
8.032: Maketh the man many tyme to falle and to stonde.
8.033: For stonde he never so stif, he stumbleth if he meve —
8.034: Ac yet is he saaf and sound, and so hym bihoveth;
8.035: For if he ne arise the rather and raughte to the steere,
8.036: The wynd wolde with the water the boot overthrowe,
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