“Then mourned Meed and plained her to the King.”  If men did
great and noble deeds, she said, they deserved praise and thanks
and rewards. 
    “‘Nay,’ quoth Conscience to the King, and kneeled to the
ground,
    ’There be two manner of Meeds, my Lord, by thy life,
    That one the good God giveth by His grace, giveth in His
bliss
    To them that will work while that they are here.’”

What a laborer received, he said, was not Meed but just Wages.  Bribery, on the other hand, was ever wicked, and he would have none of her.

In spite of all the talk, however, no one could settle the question.  So at length Conscience set forth to bring Reason to decide.

When Reason heard that he was wanted, he saddled his horse Suffer-till-I-see-my-time and came to court with Wit and Wisdom in his train.

The King received him kindly, and they talked together.  But while they talked Peace came complaining that Wrong had stolen his goods and ill-treated him in many ways.

Wrong well knew that the complaint was just, but with the help of Meed he won Wit and Wisdom to his side.  But Reason stood out against him.

    “‘Counsel me not,’ quoth Reason, ’ruth to have
    Till lords and ladies all love truth
    And their sumptuous garments be put into chests,
    Till spoiled children be chastened with rods,
    Till clerks and knights be courteous with their tongues,
    Till priests themselves practise their preaching
    And their deeds be such as may draw us to goodness.’”

The King acknowledged that Reason was right, and begged him to stay with him always and help him to rule.  “I am ready,” quoth Reason, “to rest with thee ever so that Conscience be our counsellor.”

To that the King agreed, and he and his courtiers all went to church.  Here suddenly the dream ends.  Langland cries:—­

    “Then waked I of my sleep.  I was woe withal
    That I had not slept more soundly and seen much more.”

The dreamer arose and continued his wandering.  But he had only gone a few steps when once again he sank upon the grass and fell asleep and dreamed.  Again he saw the field full of folk , and to them now Conscience was preaching, and at his words many began to repent them of their evil deeds.  Pride, Envy, Sloth and others confessed their sins and received forgiveness.

Then all these penitent folk set forth in search of Saint Truth, some riding, some walking.  “But there were few there so wise as to know the way thither, and they went all amiss.”  No man could tell them where Saint Truth lived.  And now appears at last Piers Ploughman, who gives his name to the whole poem.

    “Quoth a ploughman and put forth his head,
    ’I know him as well as a clerk know his books. 
    Clear Conscience and Wit showed me his place
    And did engage me since to serve him ever. 
    Both in sowing and setting, which I labour,
    I have been his man this fifteen winters.’”