Piers described to the pilgrims all the long way that they must go in order to find Truth.  He told them that they must go through Meekness; that they must cross the ford Honor-your-father and turn aside from the brook Bear-no-false-witness, and so on and on until they come at last to Saint Truth.

“It were a hard road unless we had a guide that might go with us afoot until we got there,” said the pilgrims.  So Piers offered, if they would wait until he had plowed his field, to go with them and show them the way.

“That would be a long time to wait,” said a lady.  “What could we women do meantime?”

And Piers answered:—­

    “Some should sew sacks to hold wheat. 
    And you who have wool weave it fast,
    Spin it speedily, spare not your fingers
    Unless it be a holy day or holy eve. 
    Look out your linen and work on it quickly,
    The needy and the naked take care how they live,
    And cast on them clothes for the cold, for so Truth desires.”

Then many of the pilgrims began to help Piers with his work.  Each man did what he could, “and some to please Piers picked up the weeds.”

    “But some of them sat and sang at ale
    And helped him to plough with ‘Hy-trolly-lolly.’”

To these idle ones Piers went in anger.  “If ye do not run quickly to your work,” he cried, “you will receive no wage; and if ye die of hunger, who will care.”

Then these idle ones began to pretend that they were blind or lame and could not work.  They made great moan, but Piers took no heed and called for Hunger.  Then Hunger seized the idle ones and beat and buffeted them until they were glad to work.

At last Truth heard of Piers and of all the good that he was doing among the pilgrims, and sent him a pardon for all his sins.  In those days people who had done wrong used to pay money to a priest and think that they were forgiven by God.  Against that belief Langland preaches, and his pardon is something different.  It is only

    “Do well and have well, and God shall have thy soul. 
    And do evil and have evil, hope none other
    That after thy death day thou shalt turn to the Evil One.”

And over this pardon a priest and Piers began so loudly to dispute that the dreamer awoke,

    “And saw the sun that time towards the south,
    And I meatless and moneyless upon the Malvern Hills.”

That is a little of the story of the first part of Piers Ploughman.  It is an allegory, and in writing it Langland wished to hold up to scorn all the wickedness that he saw around him, and sharply to point out many causes of misery.  There is laughter in his poem, but it is the terrible and harsh laughter of contempt.  His most bitter words, perhaps, are for the idle rich, but the idle poor do not escape.  Those who beg without shame, who cheat and steal, who are greedy and drunken have a share of his wrath.  Yet Langland is not all harshness.  His great word is Duty, but he speaks of Love too.  “Learn to love, quoth King, and leave off all other.”  The poem is rambling and disconnected.  Characters come on the scene and vanish again without cause.  Stories begin and do not end.  It is all wild and improbable like a dream, yet it is full of interest.