Chapter IV: Part 4

A Frere there was, a wanton and a merry,
A limitour,[78] a full solemne[79] man.
In all the orders four is none that can[80]
So much of dalliance and fair language.
He hadde made full many a marriage
Of younge women at his owen cost.
Unto his order he was a noble post;
Full well beloved and familiar was he
With franklins over-all[81] in his country,
And eke with worthy[82] women of the town:
For he had power of confession,
As saide himself, more than a curate,
For of his order he was licentiate.
Full sweetely heard he confession,
And pleasant was his absolution.
He was an easy man to give penance,
There-as he wist to have[83] a good pittance;
For unto a poor order for to give
Is signe that a man is well yshrive;
For if he gave, he durste make avaunt,[84]
He wiste that a man was repentant.
For many a man so hard is of his heart,
He may not weep although him sore smart;
Therefore instead of weeping and prayers,
Men mote give silver to the poore freres.
His tippet was aye farsed[85] full of knives
And pinnes, for to given faire wives;
And certainly he had a merry note:
Well could he sing and playen on a rote[86];
Of yeddings[87] he bare utterly the pris.[88]
His necke white was as the fleur-de-lis.
Thereto he strong was as a champion.
He knew the taverns well in every town,
And every hosteler[89] and tapester,
Bet than a lazar[90] or a beggester[91];
For unto such a worthy man as he
Accorded nought, as by his faculty,
To have with sicke lazars acquaintance;
It is not honest, it may not advance
For to dealen with no such poraille,[92]
But all with rich and sellers[93] of vitaille.[94]
And o'er-all,[95] there-as profit should arise,
Courteous he was and lowly of service.
There was no man nowhere so virtuous[96];
He was the beste beggar in his house:
[And gave a certain farme[97] for the grant,
None of his brethren came there in his haunt.]
For though a widow hadde not a shoe,
So pleasant was his _In principio_,[98]
Yet would he have a farthing ere he went;
His purchase[99] was well better than his rent.[100]
And rage[101] he could as it were right a whelp:
In lovedays[102] there could he muchel help;
For there he was not like a cloisterer
With a threadbare cope, as is a poor scholer;
But he was like a master or a pope,
Of double worsted was his semicope,[103]
That rounded as a bell out of the press.
Somewhat he lisped for his wantonness,
To make his English sweet upon his tongue;
And in his harping, when that he had sung,
His eyen twinkled in his head aright,
As do the starres in the frosty night.
This worthy limitour was cleped[104] Huberd.

THE CLERK OF OXFORD

A Clerk there was of Oxenford[105] also,
That unto logic hadde long ygo.[106]
As leane was his horse as is a rake,
And he was not right fat, I undertake,[107]
But looked hollow, and thereto soberly.
Full threadbare was his overest[108] courtepy,[109]
For he had geten[110] him yet no benefice,
Ne was so worldly for to have office.
For him was liefer[111] have at his bed's head
Twenty bookes clad in black or red,
Of Aristotle, and his philosophy,
Than robes rich, or fiddle, or gay psaltery.
But albe that he was a philosopher,
Yet hadde he but little gold in coffer,
But all that he might of his friendes hent,[112]
On bookes and his learning he it spent,
And busily[113] gan for the soules pray
Of hem, that gave him wherewith to scolay[114];
Of study took he most cure and most heed.
Not one word spake he more than was need;
And that was said in form and reverence,
And short and quick, and full of high sentence.[115]
Sounding in moral virtue was his speech,
And gladly would he learn and gladly teach.

THE LAWYER

A sergeant of the Lawe, ware and wise,
That often had ybeen at the Parvys,[116]
There was also, full rich of excellence.
Discreet he was and of great reverence;
He seemed such, his wordes were so wise;
Justice he was full often in assize,
By patent and by plein[117] commission.
For his science, and for his high renown,
Of fees and robes had he many one;
So great a purchaser[118] was nowhere none;
All was fee simple to him in effect,
His purchasing mighte not be infect.[119]
Nowhere so busy a man as he there nas,
And yet he seemed busier than he was.
In termes had he case and doomes[120] all,
That from the time of King William were fall.
Thereto he could indite, and make a thing,
There coulde no wight pinch[121] at his writing;
And every statute could[122] he plein[123] by rote.
He rode but homely in a medley[124] coat,
Girt with a ceint[125] of silk, with barres smale[126];
Of his array tell I no lenger tale.

THE SHIPMAN

A shipman was there, woning[127] far by West:
For aught I wot, he was of Dartemouth.
He rode upon a rouncy,[128] as he couth,[129]
In a gown of falding[130] to the knee.
A dagger hanging on a lace had he
About his neck under his arm adown;
The hote summer had made his hue all brown;
And certainly he was a good fellaw.
Full many a draught of wine had he ydrawe
From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapman[131] sleep[132];
Of nice conscience took he no keep.[133]
If that he fought, and had the higher hand,
By water he sent hem home to every land.
But of his craft to reckon well his tides,
His streames and his dangers him besides,
His harbour and his moon, his lodemanage,[134]
There was none such from Hulle to Carthage.
Hardy he was, and wise to undertake;
With many a tempest had his beard been shake.
He knew well all the havens, as they were,
From Gothland to the Cape of Finisterre,
And every creek in Bretagne and in Spain:
His barge yeleped was the Maudelaine.

[18] Sweet.

[19] Hearts.

[20] Distant saints.

[21] Known.

[22] Tabard: sign of the inn at Southwark.

[23] Accident.

[24] Accommodated.

[25] Every one.

[26] Agreement.

[27] Tell.

[28] Of high rank.

[29] That--he = who.

[30] Liberality.

[31] Farther.

[32] Sat at the head of the table.

[33] Lithuania.

[34] Traveled.

[35] Grenada.

[36] Algeciras.

[37] Moorish Kingdom of Africa.

[38] Lieys: in Armenia.

[39] Satalie: ancient Attalia.

[40] Mediterranean.

[41] Armed expedition.

[42] Tramassene: a kingdom in Africa.

[43] Same.

[44] Palatie: Palatine in Anatolia.

[45] Estimation.

[46] Of high rank.

[47] Anything discourteous.

[48] No sort of person.

[49] Richly dressed.

[50] Cassock.

[51] Soiled.

[52] Journey.

[53] Called.

[54] Intoned.

[55] Properly.

[56] Pleasure.

[57] Bit.

[58] Reached.

[59] Certainly.

[60] Took pains.

[61] Imitate.

[62] Worthy.

[63] Tender-heartedness.

[64] Bread of the finest flour.

[65] Died.

[66] One.

[67] Staff.

[68] Smartly.

[69] Covering for the neck.

[70] Plaited.

[71] Certainly.

[72] Certainly.

[73] Undergrown.

[74] Neat.

[75] String.

[76] Having the gaudies, or large beads, green.

[77] Private secretary.

[78] Licensed to beg within certain limits.

[79] Festive.

[80] Knows.

[81] Everywhere.

[82] Of high position.

[83] Where he knew he should have.

[84] Boast.

[85] Stuffed.

[86] A stringed instrument.

[87] Songs.

[88] Estimation.

[89] Innkeeper.

[90] Leper.

[91] Beggar.

[92] Poor people.

[93] Givers.

[94] Victuals.

[95] Everywhere.

[96] Efficient.

[97] Rent.

[98] _In principio_: In the beginning--the friar's salutation.

[99] Proceeds from begging.

[100] Income.

[101] Toy wantonly.

[102] Days for settling differences.

[103] Short cape.

[104] Called.

[105] Oxford.

[106] Gone.

[107] Venture to say.

[108] Uppermost.

[109] Short cloak.

[110] Gotten.

[111] Rather.

[112] Get.

[113] Earnestly.

[114] To attend school.

[115] Matter.

[116] Parvys: the portico of St. Paul's, frequented by lawyers for
consultation.

[117] Full.

[118] Acquirer of property.

[119] Tainted by illegality.

[120] Cases and decisions.

[121] Find a flaw.

[122] Knew.

[123] Fully.

[124] Mixed in color.

[125] Girdle.

[126] Small.

[127] Dwelling.

[128] Hack.

[129] Could.

[130] Coarse cloth.

[131] Supercargo.

[132] Slept.

[133] Heed.

[134] Pilotage.

THE TEMPLES OF VENUS, MARS, AND DIANA

From the Knight's Tale

First in the temple of Venus mayst thou see
Wrought on the wall, full piteous to behold,
The broken sleepes, and the sighes cold,
The sacred teares, and the waimenting,[135]
The fiery strokes of the desiring
That loves servants in this life enduren;
The oathes, that hir covenants assuren.
Pleasance and hope, desire, foolhardiness,
Beauty and youthe, bawdry and richesse,
Charmes and force, leasings[136] and flattery,
Dispence,[137] business,[138] and jealousy
That weared of yellow goldes[139] a garland,
And a cuckoo sitting on her hand;
Feastes, instruments, caroles, dances,
Lust and array, and all the circumstances
Of love, which that I reckoned have and reckon shall,
By order weren painted on the wall,
And mo than I can make of mention.
For soothly all the mount of Citheron,
There Venus hath her principal dwelling,
Was showed on the wall in portraying,
With all the garden and the lustiness.
Nought was forgot the porter Idleness,
Ne Narcissus the fair of yore agone,
Ne yet the folly of King Solomon,
Ne yet the greate strength of Hercules,
The enchantements of Medea and Circes,
N'of Turnus with the hardy fierce courage,
The riche Croesus caitiff[140] in servage[141].
Thus may ye see, that wisdom ne richesse,
Beauty ne sleighte, strengthe, hardiness,
Ne may with Venus holden champarty[142],
For as her list the world then may she gye[143].
Lo, all these folk so caught were in her las[144]
Till they for woe full often said, "Alas!"
Sufficeth here ensamples one or two,
And though I coulde reckon a thousand mo.
The statue of Venus, glorious for to see,
Was naked fleting[145] in the large sea,
And from the navel down all covered was
With waves green, and bright as any glass,
A citole[146] in her right hand hadde she,
And on her head, full seemly for to see,
A rose garland fresh and well smelling,
Above her head her doves flickering[147].
Before her stood her sone Cupido,
Upon his shoulders winges had he two;
And blind he was, as it is often seen;
A bow he bare and arrows bright and keen.
Why should I not as well eke tell you all
The portraiture, that was upon the wall
Within the temple of mighty Mars the red?
All painted was the wall in length and brede[148]
Like to the estres[149] of the grisly place,
That hight the greate temple of Mars in Thrace,
In thilke colde frosty region,
There-as Mars hath his sovereign mansion.
First on the wall was painted a forest,
In which there dwelleth neither man ne beast,
With knotty gnarry barren trees old
Of stubbes[150] sharp and hideous to behold,
In which there ran a rumble and a sough,
As though a storm should bresten[151] every bough:
And downward from an hill, under a bent,[152]
There stood the temple of Mars armipotent,
Wrought all of burned[153] steel, of which th' entry
Was long and strait[154] and ghastly for to see.
And thereout came a rage and such a vese,[155]
That it made all the gates for to rese.[156]
The northern light in at the doores shone,
For window on the wall ne was there none
Through which men mighten any light discern;
The doors were all of adamant eterne,
Yclenched overthwart and endelong[157]
With iron tough, and for to make it strong,
Every pillar the temple to sustene
Was tunne-great,[158] of iron bright and sheen.
There saw I first the dark imagining
Of felony, and all the compassing;
The cruel ire, red as any gleed,[159]
The pickepurse, and eke the pale drede[160];
The smiler with the knife under the cloak;
The shepen[161] brenning[162] with the blacke smoke;
The treason of the murdering in the bed,
The open war, with woundes all bebled;
Contek[163] with bloody knife and sharp menace.
All full of chirking[164] was that sorry place.
The slayer of himself yet saw I there,
His hearte-blood hath bathed all his hair:
The nail ydriven in the shode[165] anight;
The colde death, with mouth gaping upright.[166]
Amiddes of the temple sat mischance,
With discomfort and sorry countenance,
Yet saw I woodness[167] laughing in his rage,
Armed complaint, outhees,[168] and fierce outrage;
The carrion[169] in the bush, with throat ycorven,[170]
A thousand slain, and not of qualm[171] ystorven[172];
The tyrant with the prey by force yreft;
The town destroyed, there was nothing left.
Yet saw I brent[173] the shippes hoppesteres,[174]
The hunte[175] strangled with the wilde bears:
The sowe freten[176] the child right in the cradle;
The cook yscalded, for all his longe ladle.
Nought was forgotten by th' infortune of Marte;
The carter overridden with his cart;
Under the wheel full low he lay adown.
There were also of Mars' division,
The barber, and the butcher, and the smith
That forgeth sharpe swordes on his stith.[177]
And all above depainted in a tower
Saw I Conquest, sitting in great honour,
With the sharpe sword over his head
Hanging by a subtle[178] twines thread.
Depainted was the slaughter of Julius,
Of great Nero, and of Antonius:
Albe that thilke time they were unborn,
Yet was hir death depainted therebeforn,
By menacing of Mars, right by figure,
So was it showed in that portraiture,
As is depainted in the stars above,
Who shall be slain or elles dead for love.
Sufficeth one ensample in stories old,
I may not reckon them alle though I wold.
The statue of Mars upon a carte stood
Armed, and looked grim as he were wood,[179]
And over his head there shinen two figures
Of starres, that be cleped in scriptures,[180]
That one Puella, that other Rubeus.[181]
This god of armes was arrayed thus:
A wolf there stood before him at his feet
With eyen red, and of a man he eat:
With subtle pencil depainted was this story,
In redoubting[182] of Mars and of his glory.
Now to the temple of Dian the chaste
As shortly as I can I will me haste,
To tellen you all the description:
Depainted be the walles up and down
Of hunting and of shamefast chastity.
There saw I how woful Calistope,[183]
When that Dian aggrieved was with her,
Was turned from a woman to a bear,
And after was she made the lodestar[184]:
Thus was it painted, I can say no farre[185];
Her son is eke a star as men may see.
There saw I Dane yturned till[186] a tree,
I meane not the goddesse Diane,
But Peneus' daughter, which that highte Dane.
There saw I Acteon an hart ymaked,[187]
For vengeance that he saw Dian all naked:
I saw how that his houndes have him caught,
And freten[188] him for that they knew him naught.
Yet painted was a little furthermore,
How Atalanta hunted the wild boar,
And Meleager, and many another mo,
For which Diana wrought him care and woe.
There saw I many another wonder story,
The which me list not drawen to memory.
This goddess on an hart full highe seet,[189]
With smalle houndes all about her feet,
And underneath her feet she had a moon,
Waxing it was, and shoulde wanen soon.
In gaudy-green[190] her statue clothed was,
With bow in hand and arrows in a case.
Her eyen caste she full low adown
There Pluto hath his darke region.
A woman travailing was her beforn,
But for her child so longe was unborn
Full piteously Lucina[191] gan she call,
And saide, "Help, for thou mayst best of all."
Well could he painten lifely[192] that it[193] wrought,
With many a florin he the hues bought.

[135] Lamentation.

[136] Lies.

[137] Expense.

[138] Anxiety.

[139] The flower turnsol.

[140] Wretched.

[141] Slavery.

[142] Partnership in power.

[143] Guide.

[144] Snare.

[145] Floating.

[146] Musical instrument.

[147] Fluttering.

[148] Breadth.

[149] Interiors.

[150] Projecting old roots.

[151] Burst.

[152] Slope.

[153] Burnished.

[154] Narrow.

[155] Furious rush of wind.

[156] Shake.

[157] Across and lengthways.

[158] Of the circumference of a tun.

[159] Burning coal.

[160] Coward.

[161] Stables.

[162] Burning.

[163] Contention.

[164] Shrieking.

[165] Forehead.

[166] Prone on back.

[167] Madness.

[168] Outcry.

[169] Corpse.

[170] Cut.

[171] Disease.

[172] Having died.

[173] Burnt.

[174] The dancing ships.

[175] Hunter.

[176] Devour.

[177] Anvil.

[178] Fine.

[179] Mad.

[180] Called in writings.

[181] 'Puella' and 'Rubeus': two figures in Geomancy, representing
two constellations,--the one signifying Mars retrograde, the
other Mars direct.

[182] Reverence.

[183] 'Calistope' or Callisto: daughter of Lycaon--seduced by
Jupiter--turned into a bear by Juno (or Diana)--and placed
afterwards, with her son, as the Great Bear among the stars.

[184] Pole-star.

[185] Farther.

[186] To.

[187] Made.

[188] Devour.

[189] Sat.

[190] Light-green.

[191] 'Lucina': another name for Diana--as the goddess of
child-bearing.

[192] Lifelike.

[193] What.

THE PASSING OF THE FAIRIES

From the Wife of Bath's Tale

In th' olde dayes of the king Arthur
Of which that Britons speaken great honour,
All was this land fulfilled of faerie;
The Elf-queen, with her jolly company,
Danced full oft in many a greene mead;
This was the old opinion as I read:
I speak of many hundred years ago;
But now can no man see none elves mo,
For now the greate charity and prayers
Of limitours[194] and other holy freres,
That searchen every land and every stream,
As thick as motes in the sunne-beam,
Blessing halles, chambers, kitchenes, bowers,
Cities, boroughs, castles, highe towers,
Thorpes, barnes, shepens,[195] dairies,
This maketh that there be no faeries:
For there as wont to walken was an elf,
There walketh now the limitour himself,
In undermeles[196] and in morwenings,
And saith his matins and his holy things,
As he goeth in his limitation,[197]
Women may go now safely up and down,
In every bush, and under every tree;
There is none other incubus but he.

[194] Begging friars.

[195] Stables.

[196] Afternoons.

[197] Begging district.

THE PARDONER'S TALE

In Flanders whilom was a company
Of younge folk, that haunteden folly,
As riot, hazard, stewes, and taverns;
Whereas with harpes, lutes, and gitterns,[198]
They dance and play at dice both day and night,
And eat also, and drinken o'er hir might;
Through which they do the devil sacrifice
Within the devil's temple, in cursed wise,
By superfluity abominable.
Hir oathes be so great and so damnable,
That it is grisly[199] for to hear hem swear.
Our blessed Lordes body they to-tear[200];
Hem thoughte[201] Jewes rent him not enough;
And each of hem at otheres sinne lough.[202]
And right anon then comen tombesteres[203]
Fetis[204] and small, and younge fruitesteres,[205]
Singers with harpes, bawdes, waferers,[206]
Which be the very devil's officers,
To kindle and blow the fire of lechery,
That is annexed unto gluttony.

* * * * *

These riotoures three, of which I tell,
Long erst ere[207] prime rung of any bell,
Were set hem in a tavern for to drink:
And as they sat, they heard a belle clink
Before a corpse, was carried to his grave:
That one of hem gan callen to his knave,[208]
"Go bet,"[209] quoth he, "and aske readily,
What corpse is this, that passeth here forby:
And look that thou report his name well."

"Sir," quoth this boy, "it needeth never a del;
It was me told ere ye came here two hours:
He was pardie an old fellow of yours,
And suddenly he was yslain to-night,
Fordrunk[210] as he sat on his bench upright:
There came a privy thief, men clepeth[211] Death,
That in this country all the people slayeth,
And with his spear he smote his heart atwo,
And went his way withouten wordes mo.
He hath a thousand slain this pestilence:
And, master, ere ye come in his presence,
Methinketh that it were necessary,
For to be ware of such an adversary;
Be ready for to meet him evermore:
Thus taughte me my dame; I say no more."
"By Sainte Mary," said this taverner,[212]
"The child saith sooth, for he hath slain this year
Hence over a mile, within a great village,
Both man and woman, child, and hine,[213] and page;
I trow his habitation be there:
To be avised[214] great wisdom it were,
Ere that he did a man a dishonour."
"Yea, Godes armes," quoth this riotour,
"Is it such peril with him for to meet?
I shall him seek by way and eke by street,
I make avow to Godes digne[215] bones.
Hearkeneth, fellowes, we three be all ones[216]:
Let each of us hold up his hand till other,
And each of us becomen otheres brother,
And we will slay this false traitor Death:
He shall be slain, which that so many slayeth,
By Godes dignity, ere it be night."
Together have these three hir truthes plight
To live and dien each of hem for other,
As though he were his own yboren[217] brother.
And up they start all drunken, in this rage,
And forth they go towardes that village.
Of which the taverner had spoke beforn,
And many a grisly[218] oath then have they sworn,
And Christes blessed body they to-rent;[219]
Death shall be dead,[220] if that they may him hent.[221]
When they have gone not fully half a mile,
Right as they would have trodden o'er a stile,
An old man and a poore with hem met.
This olde man full meekely hem gret,[222]
And saide thus: "Now, lordes, God you see."[223]
The proudest of these riotoures three
Answered again: "What, carl,[224] with sorry grace,
Why art thou all forwrapped[225] save thy face?
Why livest thou so long in so great age?"
This olde man gan look on his visage,
And saide thus: "For I ne cannot find
A man, though that I walked into Ind,
Neither in city, nor in no village,
That woulde change his youthe for mine age;
And therefore mote I have mine age still
As longe time as it is Godes will.
Ne death, alas! ne will not have my life;
Thus walk I like a resteless caitiff,
And on the ground, which is my mother's gate,
I knocke with my staff, both early and late,
And sayen, 'Liefe[226] mother, let me in.
Lo, how I vanish, flesh, and blood, and skin;
Alas! when shall my bones be at rest?
Mother, with you would I changen my chest,
That in my chamber longe time hath be,
Yea, for an haire clout to wrappe me.'
But yet to me she will not do that grace,
For which full pale and welked[227] is my face.
"But, sirs, to you it is no courtesy
To speaken to an old man villainy,
But[228] he trespass in word or else in deed.
In holy writ ye may yourself well read;
'Against[229] an old man, hoar upon his head,
Ye should arise:' wherefore I give you rede,[230]
Ne do unto an old man none harm now,
No more than ye would men did to you
In age, if that ye so long abide.
And God be with you, where ye go or ride;
I mote go thither as I have to go."
"Nay, olde churl, by God, thou shalt not so,"
Saide this other hazardour anon;
"Thou partest not so lightly, by Saint John.
Thou spake right now of thilke traitor Death,
That in this country all our friendes slayeth;
Have here my truth, as thou art his espy;
Tell where he is, or thou shalt it aby,[231]
By God and by the holy sacrament;
For soothly thou art one of his assent
To slay us younge folk, thou false thief."
"Now, sirs," quoth he, "if that you be so lief[232]
To finden Death, turn up this crooked way,
For in that grove I left him, by my fay,
Under a tree, and there he will abide;
Not for your boast he will him nothing hide.
See ye that oak? right there ye shall him find.
God save you, that bought again mankind,
And you amend!" thus said this olde man.
And evereach[233] of these riotoures ran,
Till he came to that tree, and there they found
Of florins fine of gold ycoined round,
Well nigh an eighte bushels, as hem thought.
No lenger then after Death they sought,
But each of hem so glad was of that sight,
For that the florins be so fair and bright,
That down they set hem by this precious hoard.
The worst of hem he spake the firste word.
"Brethren," quoth he, "take keepe[234] what I say;
My wit is great, though that I bourd[235] and play.
This treasure hath fortune unto us given
In mirth and jollity our life to liven,
And lightly as it cometh, so will we spend.
Hey! Godes precious dignity! who wend[236]
To-day, that we should have so fair a grace?
But might this gold be carried from this place
Home to mine house, or elles unto yours,
For well ye wot that all this gold is ours,
Then were we in high felicity.
But truely by day it may not be;
Men woulden say that we were thieves strong,
And for our owen treasure do us hong.[237]
This treasure must ycarried be by night
As wisely and as slily as it might.
Wherefore I rede,[238] that cut[239] among us all
Be draw, and let see where the cut will fall:
And he that hath the cut, with hearte blithe
Shall renne[240] to the town, and that full swith,[241]
And bring us bread and wine full privily;
And two of us shall keepen subtlely
This treasure well; and if he will not tarry,
When it is night, we will this treasure carry
By one assent, where as us thinketh best."
That one of hem the cut brought in his fist,
And bade hem draw and look where it will fall,
And it fell on the youngest of hem all:
And forth toward the town he went anon.
And also[242] soon as that he was agone,
That one of hem spake thus unto that other;
"Thou knowest well thou art my sworen brother;
Thy profit will I tellen thee anon.
Thou wost[243] well that our fellow is agone,
And here is gold, and that full great plenty,
That shall departed be among us three.
But natheless, if I can shape it so,
That it departed were among us two,
Had I not done a friendes turn to thee?"
That other answered, "I not[244] how that may be:
He wot how that the gold is with us tway.[245]
What shall we do? what shall we to him say?"
"Shall it be counsel?" said the firste shrew;
"And I shall tellen thee in wordes few
What we shall do, and bring it well about."
"I grante," quoth that other, "out of doubt,
That by my truth I shall thee not bewray."
"Now," quoth the first, "thou wost well we be tway,
And two of us shall strenger be than one.
Look, when that he is set, thou right anon
Arise, as though thou wouldest with him play;
And I shall rive him through the sides tway,
While that thou strugglest with him as in game,
And with thy dagger look thou do the same;
And then shall all this gold departed be,
My deare friend, betwixen me and thee:
Then may we both our lustes all fulfill,
And play at dice right at our owen will."
And thus accorded be these shrewes tway
To slay the third, as ye have heard me say.
This youngest, which that went unto the town,
Full oft in heart he rolleth up and down
The beauty of these florins new and bright.
"O Lord!" quoth he, "if so were that I might
Have all this treasure to myself alone,
There is no man that liveth under the throne
Of God, that shoulde live so merry as I."
And the last the fiend, our enemy,
Put in his thought that he should poison bey,[246]
With which he mighte slay his fellows twaye.
Forwhy[247] the fiend found him in such living,
That he had leave him to sorrow bring.
For this was utterly his full intent
To slay hem both, and never to repent.
And forth he goeth, no lenger would he tarry,
Into the town unto a 'pothecary,
And prayed him that he him woulde sell
Some poison, that he might his rattes quell,
And eke there was a polecat in his haw[248]
That, as he said, his capons had yslawe[249];
And fain he woulde wreak[250] him if he might,
On vermin, that destroyed him by night.
The 'pothecary answered, "And thou shalt have
A thing that, also[251] God my soule save,
In all this world there nis no creature,
That eaten or drunk hath of this confecture,
Naught but the mountance[252] of a corn of wheat,
That he ne shall his life anon forlete[253];
Yea, sterve[254] he shall, and that in lesse while,
Than thou wilt go a pace[255] not but a mile:
This poison is so strong and violent."
This cursed man hath in his hand yhent[256]
This poison in a box, and sith he ran
Into the nexte street unto a man,
And borrowed of him large bottles three;
And in the two his poison poured he;
The third he kept clean for his owen drink,
For all the night he shope[257] him for to swink[258]
In carrying the gold out of that place.
And when this riotour, with sorry grace,
Had filled with wine his greate bottles three,
To his fellows again repaireth he.
What needeth it to sermon of it more?
For right as they had cast his death before,
Right so they have him slain, and that anon.
And when that this was done, thus spake that one:
"Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry,
And afterward we will his body bury."
And with that word it happed him _par cas_,[259]
To take the bottle there the poison was,
And drank, and gave his fellow drink also,
For which anon they storven[260] bothe two.
But certes I suppose that Avicen
Wrote never in no canon, n' in no fen,[261]
Mo wonder signes of empoisoning,
Than had these wretches two ere hir ending.
Thus ended be these homicides two,
And eke the false empoisoner also.

[198] Guitars.

[199] Dreadful.

[200] Tear in pieces.

[201] It seemed to them.

[202] Laughed.

[203] Female dancers.

[204] Neat.

[205] Female fruit-sellers.

[206] Sellers of wafer-cakes.

[207] Long first before.

[208] Servant.

[209] Quickly.

[210] Excessively drunk.

[211] Call.

[212] Innkeeper.

[213] Peasant.

[214] Watchful.

[215] Worthy.

[216] At one.

[217] Born.

[218] Dreadful.

[219] Tear in pieces.

[220] Die.

[221] Seize.

[222] Greeted.

[223] Keep in sight, protect.

[224] Churl.

[225] Completely wrapped up.

[226] Dear.

[227] Withered.

[228] Unless.

[229] To meet.

[230] Advice.

[231] Suffer for.

[232] Desirous.

[233] Each one.

[234] Heed.

[235] Joke.

[236] Thought.

[237] Cause us to be hanged.

[238] Advise.

[239] Lot.

[240] Run.

[241] Quickly.

[242] As.

[243] Knowest.

[244] Know not.

[245] Two.

[246] Buy.

[247] Because.

[248] Farm-yard.

[249] Slain.

[250] Revenge.

[251] As.

[252] Amount.

[253] Give up.

[254] Die.

[255] At a footpace.

[256] Seized.

[257] Purposed.

[258] Labor.

[259] By chance.

[260] Died.

[261] 'Fen': the name of the sections of Avicenna's great work
entitled 'Canon.'

THE NUN'S PRIESTS TALE

A poore widow somedeal stope[262] in age,
Was whilom dwelling in a narrow cottage,
Beside a grove, standing in a dale.
This widow, of which I telle you my tale,
Since thilke day that she was last a wife,
In patience led a full simple life.
For little was her cattel[263] and her rent[264]:
By husbandry[265] of such as God her sent
She found[266] herself, and eke her daughtren two.
Three large sowes had she, and no mo;
Three kine, and eke a sheep that highte[267] Mall.
Full sooty was her bower, and eke her hall,
In which she ate full many a slender meal.
Of poignant sauce her needed never a deal.[268]
No dainty morsel passed through her throat;
Her diet was accordant to her cote.[269]
Repletion ne made her never sick;
Attemper[270] diet was all her physic,
And exercise, and heartes suffisance.[271]
The goute let[272] her nothing for to dance,
N' apoplexy ne shente[273] not her head.
No wine ne drank she, neither white ne red:
Her board was served most with white and black,
Milk and brown bread, in which she found no lack,
Seind[274] bacon, and sometime an egg or twey;
For she was as it were a manner dey.[275]
A yard she had, enclosed all about
With stickes, and a drye ditch without,
In which she had a cock hight Chanticleer,
In all the land of crowing was none his peer.
His voice was merrier than the merry orgon,
On masse days that in the churche gon.
Well sikerer[276] was his crowing in his lodge
Than is a clock, or an abbey horloge.[277]
By nature he knew each ascension
Of the equinoctial in thilke town;
For when degrees fifteene were ascended,
Then crew he, that it might not be amended.
His comb was redder than the fine coral,
And battled,[278] as it were a castle wall.
His bill was black, and as the jet it shone;
Like azure were his legges and his ton[279];
His nailes whiter than the lily flower,
And like the burned[280] gold was his colour.
This gentle cock had in his governance
Seven hennes, for to do all his pleasance,
Which were his sisters and his paramours,
And wonder like to him, as of colours;
Of which the fairest hued on her throat
Was cleped faire Damosel Partelote.
Courteous she was, discreet, and debonair,
And companable,[281] and bare herself so fair,
Sin[282] thilke day that she was sevennight old,
That truely she hath the heart in hold[283]
Of Chanticleer, locken[284] in every lith[285];
He loved her so, that well was him therewith.
But such a joy was it to hear hem sing,
When that the brighte sunne gan to spring,
In sweet accord, 'My lief is faren on land.'[286]
For thilke time, as I have understande,
Beastes and birdes coulde speak and sing.
And so befell, that in a dawening,
As Chanticleer among his wives all
Sat on his perche, that was in the hall,
And next him sat this faire Partelote,
This Chanticleer gan groanen in his throat,
As man that in his dream is drecched[287] sore,
And when that Partelote thus heard him roar,
She was aghast, and said, "O hearte dear,
What aileth you to groan in this mannere?
Ye be a very sleeper, fie, for shame!"
And he answered and saide thus: "Madame,
I pray you that ye take it not agrief[288];
By God, me met[289] I was in such mischief[290]
Right now, that yet mine heart is sore affright.
Now God," quoth he, "my sweven[291] read[292] aright,
And keep my body out of foul prison.
Me met how that I roamed up and down
Within our yard, where-as I saw a beast
Was like an hound, and would have made arrest
Upon my body, and have had me dead.
His colour was betwixe yellow and red;
And tipped was his tail, and both his ears
With black, unlike the remnant of his hairs.
His snoute small, with glowing eyen twey;
Yet of his look for fear almost I dey[293]:
This caused me my groaning doubteless."
"Avoy!" quoth she, "fie on you hearteless!
Alas!" quoth she, "for by that God above
Now have ye lost mine heart and all my love;
I cannot love a coward, by my faith.
For certes, what so any woman saith,
We all desiren, if it mighte be,
To have husbandes, hardy, wise, and free,
And secre,[294] and no niggard ne no fool,
Ne him that is aghast of every tool,
Ne none avantour[295] by that God above.
How durst ye say for shame unto your love,
That anything might maken you afeard?
Have ye no mannes heart, and have a beard?
Alas! and can ye be aghast of swevenes[296]?
Nothing but vanity, God wot, in sweven is,
Swevens engender of repletions,
And oft of fume, and of complexions,[297]
When humours be too abundant in a wight.
Certes this dream, which ye have met[298] to-night,
Cometh of the greate superfluity
Of youre rede colera,[299] pardie,
Which causeth folk to dreamen in hir dreams
Of arrows, and of fire with rede leames,[300]
Of greate beastes, that they will hem bite,
Of contek[301] and of whelpes great and lite[302];
Right as the humour of melancholy
Causeth full many a man in sleep to cry,
For fear of blacke beares or bulles blake,
Or elles blacke devils will hem take.
Of other humours could I tell also,
That worken many a man in sleep full woe:
But I will pass as lightly[303] as I can.
Lo Cato, which that was so wise a man,
Said he not thus? 'Ne do no force[304] of dreams.'"
"Now, Sir," quoth she, "when ye fly from the beams,
For Godes love, as take some laxative:
Up[305] peril of my soul, and of my live,
I counsel you the best, I will not lie,
That both of choler, and of melancholy
Ye purge you; and for ye shall not tarry,
Though in this town is none apothecary,
I shall myself to herbes teachen you,
That shall be for your heal[306] and for your prow[307];
And in our yard tho[308] herbes shall I find,
The which have of hir property by kind[309]
To purgen you beneath, and eke above.
Forget not this for Godes owen love;
Ye be full choleric of complexion;
Ware the sun in his ascension
Ne find you not replete of humours hot:
And if it do, I dare well lay a groat,
That ye shall have a fever tertian,
Or an ague, that may be youre bane.
A day or two ye shall have digestives
Of wormes, ere ye take your laxatives,
Of lauriol, centaury, and fumetere,[310]
Or else of hellebore, that growreth there,
Of catapuce,[311] or of gaitres-berries,[312]
Of herb ivy growing in our yard, that merry is:
Pick hem up right as they grow, and eat hem in.
Be merry, husband, for your father kin
Dreadeth no dream; I can say you no more."
"Madame," quoth he, "_grand mercy_ of" your lore.
But natheless, as touching Dan Caton,
That hath of wisdom such a great renown,
Though that he bade no dreames for to drede,
By God, men may in olde bookes read,
Of many a man, more of authority
Than ever Cato was, so mote I the,[314]
That all the reverse say of this sentence,
And have well founden by experience,
That dreames be significations
As well of joy, as of tribulations,
That folk enduren in this life present.
There needeth make of this none argument;
The very preve[315] sheweth it indeed.
"One of the greatest authors that men read,
Saith thus, that whilom two fellowes went
On pilgrimage in a full good intent;
And happed so, they came into a town,
Where-as there was such congregation
Of people, and eke so strait of herbergage,[316]
That they ne found as much as one cottage,
In which they bothe might ylodged be:
Wherefore they musten of necessity,
As for that night, departen[317] company;
And each of hem goeth to his hostelry,
And took his lodging as it woulde fall.
That one of hem was lodged in a stall,
Far in a yard, with oxen of the plow;
That other man was lodged well enow,
As was his aventure, or his fortune,
That us governeth all, as in commune.
And so befell, that, long ere it were day,
This man met[318] in his bed, there-as he lay,
How that his fellow gan upon him call,
And said, 'Alas! for in an oxes stall
This night I shall be murdered, there I lie.
Now help me, deare brother, or I die;
In alle haste come to me,' he said.
This man out of his sleep for fear abraid[319];
But when that he was wakened of his sleep,
He turned him, and took of this no keep[320];
Him thought his dream nas but a vanity.
Thus twies in his sleeping dreamed he.
And at the thirde time yet his fellaw
Came, as him thought, and said, 'I am now slawe.[321]
Behold my bloody woundes, deep and wide.
Arise up early, in the morrow tide,
And at the west gate of the town,' quoth he,
'A carte full of dung there shalt thou see,
In which my body is hid full privily.
Do thilke cart arresten boldely.
My gold caused my murder, sooth to sayn.'
And told him every point how he was slain
With a full piteous face, pale of hue.
And trusteth well, his dream he found full true;
For on the morrow, as soon as it was day,
To his fellowes inn he took his way:
And when that he came to this oxes stall,
After his fellow he began to call.
The hosteler answered him anon,
And saide, 'Sir, your fellow is agone,
As soon as day he went out of the town.'
"This man gan fallen in suspicion
Remembering on his dreames that he met,[322]
And forth he goeth, no lenger would he let,[323]
Unto the west gate of the town, and found
A dung cart, as it were to dunge lond,
That was arrayed in that same wise
As ye have heard the deade man devise:
And with an hardy heart he gan to cry,
'Vengeance and justice of this felony:
My fellow murdered is this same night,
And in this cart he lieth, gaping upright.[324]
I cry out on the ministers,' quoth he,
'That shoulde keep and rulen this city:
Harow! alas! here lieth my fellow slain.'
What should I more unto this tale sayn?
The people out start,[325] and cast the cart to ground,
And in the middle of the dung they found
The deade man, that murdered was all new.
O blissful God! that art so just and true,
Lo, how that thou bewrayest[326] murder alway.
Murder will out, that see we day by day.
Murder is so wlatsom[327] and abominable
To God, that is so just and reasonable,
That he ne will not suffer it heled[328] be,
Though it abide a year, or two, or three;
Murder will out, this is my conclusion.
"And right anon, ministers of that town
Have hent[329] the carter, and so sore him pined,[330]
And eke the hosteler so sore engined,[331]
That they beknew[332] hir wickedness anon,
And were anhanged by the necke bone.
"Here may men see that dreames be to dread.
And certes in the same book I read,
Right in the nexte chapter after this,
(I gabbe[333] not, so have I joy and bliss,)
Two men that would have passed over sea
For certain cause into a far country,
If that the wind ne hadde been contrary,
That made hem in a city for to tarry,
That stood full merry upon an haven side.
But on a day, again[334] the even tide,
The wind gan change, and blew right as hem lest.[335]
Jolly and glad they went unto hir rest,
And casten hem full early for to sail;
But to that one man fell a great marvail.
That one of them in sleeping as he lay,
He met[336] a wonder dream, again the day:
Him thought a man stood by his beddes side,
And him commanded that he should abide,
And said him thus: 'If thou to-morrow wend,
Thou shalt be dreynt[337]; my tale is at an end.'
He woke, and told his fellow what he met,[336]
And prayed him his voyage to let[338];
As for that day, he prayed him for to abide.
His fellow, that lay by his beddes side,
Gan for to laugh, and scorned him full fast.
'No dream,' quoth he, 'may so my heart aghast,
That I will letten for to do my things.
I sette not a straw by thy dreamings,
For swevens[339] be but vanities and japes.[340]
Men dream all day of owles or of apes,
And eke of many a mase[341] therewithal;
Men dream of thing that never was, ne shall.
But sith I see that thou wilt here abide,
And thus forslothen[342] wilfully thy tide,
God wot it rueth[343] me, and have good day.'
And thus he took his leave, and went his way.
But ere that he had half his course ysailed,
Nought I not[344] why, ne what mischance it ailed,
But casually the shippes bottom rent,
And ship and man under the water went
In sight of other shippes there beside,
That with hem sailed at the same tide.
"And therefore, faire Partelote so dear,
By such ensamples old yet mayst thou lere.[345]
That no man shoulde be too reckeless
Of dreames, for I say thee doubteless,
That many a dream full sore is for to dread.
"Lo, in the life of Saint Kenelm I read,
That was Kenulphus son, the noble king
Of Mercenrike,[346] how Kenelm met[347] a thing.
A little ere he was murdered, on a day,
His murder in his avision[348] he say.[349]
His norice[350] him expounded every del
His sweven, and bade him for to keep him well
For[351] treason; but he nas but seven year old,
And therefore little tale hath he told[352]
Of any dream, so holy was his heart.
By God, I hadde liefer than my shirt,
That ye had read his legend, as have I.
"Dame Partelote, I say you truely,
Macrobius, that writ the avision[353]
In Afric of the worthy Scipion,
Affirmeth dreames, and saith that they be
Warning of thinges that men after see.
And furthermore, I pray you looketh well
In the Olde Testament, of Daniel,
If he held dreames any vanity.
Read eke of Joseph, and there shall ye see
Where[354] dreames be sometime (I say not all)
Warning of thinges that shall after fall.
Look of Egypt the king, Dan Pharao,
His baker and his buteler also,
Whether they ne felten none effect in dreams.
Whoso will seeken acts of sundry remes,[355]
May read of dreames many a wonder thing.
Lo Croesus, which that was of Lydia king,
Met[356] he not that he sat upon a tree,
Which signified he should anhanged be?
"Lo here, Andromache, Hectores wife,
That day that Hector shoulde lese[357] his life,
She dreamed on the same night beforn,
How that the life of Hector should be lorn,[358]
If thilke day he went into battail:
She warned him, but it might not avail;
He wente for to fighten natheless,
And he was slain anon of Achilles.
But thilke tale is all too long to tell,
And eke it is nigh day, I may not dwell.
"Shortly I say, as for conclusion,
That I shall have of this avision
Adversity: and I say furthermore,
That I ne tell[359] of laxatives no store,
For they be venomous, I wot it well:
I hem defy, I love hem never a del.
"Now let us speak of mirth, and stint all this;
Madame Partelote, so have I bliss,
Of one thing God hath sent me large grace:
For when I see the beauty of your face,
Ye be so scarlet red about your eyen,
It maketh all my dreade for to dien,
For, also[360] sicker[361] as _In principio,
Mulier est hominis confusio_,--
Madam, the sentence[362] of this Latin is,
Woman is mannes joy and all his bliss--
For when I feel a-night your softe side,

* * * * *

I am so full of joy and of solace,
That I defye bothe sweven[363] and dream."
And with that word he flew down from the beam,
For it was day, and eke his hennes all;
And with a chuck he gan hem for to call,
For he had found a corn, lay in the yard.
Royal he was, he was no more afeard;

* * * * *