Here biginnith the eight and sixty chapitre.

And on the same maner, wher another man wolde bid thee gader thi mightes and thi wittes holiche withinne thiself, and worschip God there -- thof al he sey ful wel and ful trewly, ye! and no man trewlier and he be wel conseivid -- yit for feerde of disseite and bodely conceyvyng of his wordes, me list not byd thee do so. Bot thus wil I bid thee. Loke on no wyse that thou be withinne thiself. And schortly withoutyn thiself wil I not that thou be, ne yit aboven, ne behynde, ne on o side, ne on other. "Wher than," seist thou, "schal I be? Noghwhere, by thi tale!" Now trewly thou seist wel; for there wolde I have thee. For whi noghwhere bodely is everywhere goostly. Loke than besily that thi goostly werk be noghwhere bodely; and than whersoever that that thing is, on the whiche thou wilfuly worchest in thi mynde in sub staunce, o sekerly ther art thou in spirit, as verrely as thi body is in that place that thou arte bodely. And thof al thi bodely wittes kon fynde ther nothing to fede hem on, for hem think it nought that thou doste, ye! do on than this nought, elles that thou do it for Goddes love. And lete nought, therfore, bot travayle besily in that nought with a wakyng desire to wilne to have God, that no man may knowe. For I telle thee trewly that I had lever be so nowhere bodely, wrastlyng with that blynde nought, than to be so grete a lorde that I might when I wolde be everywhere bodely, merily pleiing with al this ought as a lorde with his owne. Lat be this everiwhere and this ought, in comparison of this noghwhere and this nought. Reche thee never yif thi wittys kon no skyle of this nought; for whi I love it moche the betir. It is so worthi a thing in itself that thei kon no skyle therapon. This nought may betir be felt then seen; for it is ful blynde and ful derk to hem that han bot lityl while lokid therapon. Nevertheles, yif I schal sothlier sey, a soule is more bleendid in felyng of it for habundaunce of goostly light, then for any derknes or wantyng of bodely lightte. What is he that clepith it nought? Sekirly it is oure utter man, and not oure inner. Oure inner man clepith it Al; for of it he is wel lernid to kon skyle of alle thinges, bodely or goostly, withouten any specyal beholdyng to any o thing by itself.

Here biginnith the nine and sixty chapitre. Wonderfuly is a mans affeccion varied in goostly felyng of this nought when it is noughwhere wrought. For at the first tyme that a soule lokith therapon, it schal fynde alle the specyal dedes of sinne that ever he did sithen he was borne, bodely or goostly, prively or derkly, peyntid therapon. And howsoever that he tornith it aboute, evermore thei wil apere before his ighen; unto the tyme be that with moche harde travayle, many sore sighinges, and many bitter wepynges he have in grete party rubbid hem awey. Somtyme in this travayle him think that it is to loke therapon as on helle; for him think that he despeirith to wynne to perfeccion of goostly rest oute of that pyne. Thus fer inwardes comyn many; bot for greetnes of pyne that thei fele and for lackyng of counforte thei go bak in beholdyng of bodely thinges, sekyng fleschly counfortes withouten, for lackyng of goostly that thei have not yit deservyd, as thei schuld yif thei had abeden. For he that abidith felith somtyme som coumforte, and hath som hope of perfeccion; for he felith and seeth that many of his fordone specyal synnes ben in grete partye by help of grace rubbid awey. Nevertheles yit everamonge he felith pyne; bot he thinkith that it schal have an ende, for it wexith ever les and les. And therfore he clepith it nought helle bot purgatory. Somtyme he kan fynde no specyal synne wretyn therapon, bot yit hym think that it is synne a lumpe, he wote never what, none other thing than hymself; and than it may be clepid the stathil and the pyne of the original synne. Somtyme hym think that it is paradis or heven, for diverse wonderful swetnes and counfortes, joyes and blessid vertewes that he fyndeth therin. Somtyme hym think it God, for pees and rest that he findeth therin. Ye! think what he think wil; for evermore he schal fynde it a cloude of unknowyng that is bitwix hym and his God. Here biginnyth the seventy chapitre. And therfore travayle fast in this nought and this noughwhere, and leve thin out- ward bodely wittes and alle that thei worche in; for I telle thee trewly that this werk may not be conceyvid by hem.

For by thin ighen thou maist not conceyve of any thing, bot yif it be by the lengthe and the breed, the smalnes and the gretnes, the roundnes and the swarenes, the ferns and the neernes, and the colour of it. And bi thin eren, not bot noise or sum maner of soun. By thin nose, not bot either stynche or savour. And by thi taast, not bot either soure or swete, salt or fresche, bittyr or likyng. And bi thi feling, not bot outher hote or colde, hard or tendre, soft or scharpe. And trewly neither hath God ne goostly thinges none of thees qualitees ne quantitees. And therfore leve thin outward wittes, and worche not with hem, neither withinne ne withouten. For alle thoo that setten hem to be goostly worchers withinne, and wenen that thei scholen outher here, smel, or see, taast or fele goostly thinges, outher withinne hem or withouten, sekerly thei ben deceyved and worchen wronge ayens the cours of kynde. For kyndely thei ben ordeynid that with hem men schuld have knowyng of alle outward bodely thinges, and on no wise by hem com to the knowing of gostely thinges. I mene bi theire werkes. By theire failinges we may, as thus: when we rede or here speke of sum certeyn thinges, and therto conceyve that oure outward wittys kon not telle us bi no qualitee what thoo thinges ben, than we mowe be verely certefied that thoo thinges ben goostly thinges, and not bodely thinges. On this same maner goostly it farith within in oure goostly wittys, when we tra- vailen aboute the knowyng of God Himself. For have a man never so moche goostly understondyng in knowyng of alle maad goostly thinges, yit may he never bi the werk of his understondyng com to the knowyng of an unmaad goostly thing, the whiche is nought bot God. Bot by the failyng it may; for whi that thing that it failith in is nothyng elles bot only God.