Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 2.pdf/161

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Of gold, and, preaching that they wish

For poverty alone, still fish

With trammel-net and wide-spread seine,

In hope great worldly wealth to gain.

Religious are they not, nor good,

Yet have the shameless hardihood,

Whene’er they preach, to boldly say,

That wearing holy habits they

Must needs be holy. By my life

Their claim’s not worth a wooden knife;

That “not by robe the monk is made,”

None but a fool hath e’er gainsaid.

And none to this can make reply

Although his head were shaven high

By hand of Fraud, who cuts thirteen

Thereto had given with razor keen.

But hereof dare no man discuss,

To speak one word is perilous,

For truth they turn the nether way.

And therefore in their nests I lay

My eggs, as often may be seen

By those who closely look therein.

Know ye that wheresoe’er I go.

And whatso sort of face I show,

I purpose some ill deed, and that,

Even as Master Tybert cat

Of nought else dreams but rats and mice,

So do I find my paradise

In lying, robbery, and wrong.

And though but few among the throng

Of men detect me through my dress,

Nor pierce beneath my gentleness