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The Canterbury Tales and Other Poems
by Geoffrey Chaucer
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The prayer stint* of Arcita the strong, *ended The ringes on the temple door that hong, And eke the doores, clattered full fast, Of which Arcita somewhat was aghast. The fires burn'd upon the altar bright, That it gan all the temple for to light; A sweete smell anon the ground up gaf*, *gave And Arcita anon his hand up haf*, *lifted And more incense into the fire he cast, With other rites more and at the last The statue of Mars began his hauberk ring; And with that sound he heard a murmuring Full low and dim, that saide thus, "Victory." For which he gave to Mars honour and glory. And thus with joy, and hope well to fare, Arcite anon unto his inn doth fare. As fain* as fowl is of the brighte sun. *glad

And right anon such strife there is begun For thilke* granting, in the heav'n above, *that Betwixte Venus the goddess of love, And Mars the sterne god armipotent, That Jupiter was busy it to stent*: *stop Till that the pale Saturnus the cold, That knew so many of adventures old, Found in his old experience such an art, That he full soon hath pleased every part. As sooth is said, eld* hath great advantage, *age In eld is bothe wisdom and usage*: *experience Men may the old out-run, but not out-rede*. *outwit Saturn anon, to stint the strife and drede, Albeit that it is against his kind,* *nature Of all this strife gan a remedy find. "My deare daughter Venus," quoth Saturn, "My course*, that hath so wide for to turn, *orbit Hath more power than wot any man. Mine is the drowning in the sea so wan; Mine is the prison in the darke cote*, *cell Mine the strangling and hanging by the throat, The murmur, and the churlish rebelling, The groyning*, and the privy poisoning. *discontent I do vengeance and plein* correction, *full I dwell in the sign of the lion. Mine is the ruin of the highe halls, The falling of the towers and the walls Upon the miner or the carpenter: I slew Samson in shaking the pillar: Mine also be the maladies cold, The darke treasons, and the castes* old: *plots My looking is the father of pestilence. Now weep no more, I shall do diligence That Palamon, that is thine owen knight, Shall have his lady, as thou hast him hight*. *promised Though Mars shall help his knight, yet natheless Betwixte you there must sometime be peace: All be ye not of one complexion, That each day causeth such division, I am thine ayel*, ready at thy will; *grandfather Weep now no more, I shall thy lust* fulfil." *pleasure Now will I stenten* of the gods above, *cease speaking Of Mars, and of Venus, goddess of love, And telle you as plainly as I can The great effect, for which that I began.

Great was the feast in Athens thilke* day; *that And eke the lusty season of that May Made every wight to be in such pleasance, That all that Monday jousten they and dance, And spenden it in Venus' high service. But by the cause that they shoulde rise Early a-morrow for to see that fight, Unto their reste wente they at night. And on the morrow, when the day gan spring, Of horse and harness* noise and clattering *armour There was in the hostelries all about: And to the palace rode there many a rout* *train, retinue Of lordes, upon steedes and palfreys. There mayst thou see devising* of harness *decoration So uncouth* and so rich, and wrought so weel *unkown, rare Of goldsmithry, of brouding*, and of steel; *embroidery The shieldes bright, the testers*, and trappures** *helmets Gold-hewen helmets, hauberks, coat-armures; **trappings Lordes in parements* on their coursers, *ornamental garb ; Knightes of retinue, and eke squiers, Nailing the spears, and helmes buckeling, Gniding* of shieldes, with lainers** lacing; *polishing There as need is, they were nothing idle: **lanyards The foamy steeds upon the golden bridle Gnawing, and fast the armourers also With file and hammer pricking to and fro; Yeomen on foot, and knaves* many one *servants With shorte staves, thick* as they may gon**; *close **walk Pipes, trumpets, nakeres*, and clariouns, *drums That in the battle blowe bloody souns; The palace full of people up and down, There three, there ten, holding their questioun*, *conversation Divining* of these Theban knightes two. *conjecturing Some saiden thus, some said it shall he so; Some helden with him with the blacke beard, Some with the bald, some with the thick-hair'd; Some said he looked grim, and woulde fight: He had a sparth* of twenty pound of weight. *double-headed axe Thus was the halle full of divining* *conjecturing Long after that the sunne gan up spring. The great Theseus that of his sleep is waked With minstrelsy, and noise that was maked, Held yet the chamber of his palace rich, Till that the Theban knightes both y-lich* *alike Honoured were, and to the palace fet*. *fetched Duke Theseus is at a window set, Array'd right as he were a god in throne: The people presseth thitherward full soon Him for to see, and do him reverence, And eke to hearken his hest* and his sentence**. *command **speech An herald on a scaffold made an O, Till the noise of the people was y-do*: *done And when he saw the people of noise all still, Thus shewed he the mighty Duke's will. "The lord hath of his high discretion Considered that it were destruction To gentle blood, to fighten in the guise Of mortal battle now in this emprise: Wherefore to shape* that they shall not die, *arrange, contrive He will his firste purpose modify. No man therefore, on pain of loss of life, No manner* shot, nor poleaxe, nor short knife *kind of Into the lists shall send, or thither bring. Nor short sword for to stick with point biting No man shall draw, nor bear it by his side. And no man shall unto his fellow ride But one course, with a sharp y-grounden spear: *Foin if him list on foot, himself to wear. *He who wishes can And he that is at mischief shall be take*, fence on foot to defend And not slain, but be brought unto the stake, himself, and he that That shall be ordained on either side; is in peril shall be taken* Thither he shall by force, and there abide. And if *so fall* the chiefetain be take *should happen* On either side, or elles slay his make*, *equal, match No longer then the tourneying shall last. God speede you; go forth and lay on fast. With long sword and with mace fight your fill. Go now your way; this is the lordes will. The voice of the people touched the heaven, So loude cried they with merry steven*: *sound God save such a lord that is so good, He willeth no destruction of blood.

Up go the trumpets and the melody, And to the listes rode the company *By ordinance*, throughout the city large, *in orderly array* Hanged with cloth of gold, and not with sarge*. *serge Full like a lord this noble Duke gan ride, And these two Thebans upon either side:

And after rode the queen and Emily, And after them another company Of one and other, after their degree. And thus they passed thorough that city And to the listes came they by time: It was not of the day yet fully prime*. *between 6 & 9 a.m. When set was Theseus full rich and high, Hippolyta the queen and Emily, And other ladies in their degrees about, Unto the seates presseth all the rout. And westward, through the gates under Mart, Arcite, and eke the hundred of his part, With banner red, is enter'd right anon; And in the selve* moment Palamon *self-same Is, under Venus, eastward in the place, With banner white, and hardy cheer* and face *expression In all the world, to seeken up and down So even* without variatioun *equal There were such companies never tway. For there was none so wise that coulde say That any had of other avantage Of worthiness, nor of estate, nor age, So even were they chosen for to guess. And *in two ranges faire they them dress*. *they arranged themselves When that their names read were every one, in two rows* That in their number guile* were there none, *fraud Then were the gates shut, and cried was loud; "Do now your devoir, younge knights proud The heralds left their pricking* up and down *spurring their horses Now ring the trumpet loud and clarioun. There is no more to say, but east and west In go the speares sadly* in the rest; *steadily In go the sharpe spurs into the side. There see me who can joust, and who can ride. There shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick; He feeleth through the hearte-spoon the prick. Up spring the speares twenty foot on height; Out go the swordes as the silver bright. The helmes they to-hewen, and to-shred*; *strike in pieces Out burst the blood, with sterne streames red. With mighty maces the bones they to-brest*. *burst He through the thickest of the throng gan threst*. *thrust There stumble steedes strong, and down go all. He rolleth under foot as doth a ball. He foineth* on his foe with a trunchoun, *forces himself And he him hurtleth with his horse adown. He through the body hurt is, and *sith take*, *afterwards captured* Maugre his head, and brought unto the stake, As forword* was, right there he must abide. *covenant Another led is on that other side. And sometime doth* them Theseus to rest, *caused Them to refresh, and drinken if them lest*. *pleased Full oft a day have thilke Thebans two *these Together met and wrought each other woe: Unhorsed hath each other of them tway* *twice There is no tiger in the vale of Galaphay, When that her whelp is stole, when it is lite* *little So cruel on the hunter, as Arcite For jealous heart upon this Palamon: Nor in Belmarie there is no fell lion, That hunted is, or for his hunger wood* *mad Or for his prey desireth so the blood, As Palamon to slay his foe Arcite. The jealous strokes upon their helmets bite; Out runneth blood on both their sides red, Sometime an end there is of every deed For ere the sun unto the reste went, The stronge king Emetrius gan hent* *sieze, assail This Palamon, as he fought with Arcite, And made his sword deep in his flesh to bite, And by the force of twenty is he take, Unyielding, and is drawn unto the stake. And in the rescue of this Palamon The stronge king Licurgus is borne down: And king Emetrius, for all his strength Is borne out of his saddle a sword's length, So hit him Palamon ere he were take: But all for nought; he was brought to the stake: His hardy hearte might him helpe naught, He must abide when that he was caught, By force, and eke by composition*. *the bargain Who sorroweth now but woful Palamon That must no more go again to fight? And when that Theseus had seen that sight Unto the folk that foughte thus each one, He cried, Ho! no more, for it is done! I will be true judge, and not party. Arcite of Thebes shall have Emily, That by his fortune hath her fairly won." Anon there is a noise of people gone, For joy of this, so loud and high withal, It seemed that the listes shoulde fall.

What can now faire Venus do above? What saith she now? what doth this queen of love? But weepeth so, for wanting of her will, Till that her teares in the listes fill* *fall She said: "I am ashamed doubteless." Saturnus saide: "Daughter, hold thy peace. Mars hath his will, his knight hath all his boon, And by mine head thou shalt be eased soon." The trumpeters with the loud minstrelsy, The heralds, that full loude yell and cry, Be in their joy for weal of Dan* Arcite. *Lord But hearken me, and stinte noise a lite, What a miracle there befell anon This fierce Arcite hath off his helm y-done, And on a courser for to shew his face He *pricketh endelong* the large place, *rides from end to end* Looking upward upon this Emily; And she again him cast a friendly eye (For women, as to speaken *in commune*, *generally* They follow all the favour of fortune), And was all his in cheer*, as his in heart. *countenance Out of the ground a fire infernal start, From Pluto sent, at request of Saturn For which his horse for fear began to turn, And leap aside, and founder* as he leap *stumble And ere that Arcite may take any keep*, *care He pight* him on the pummel** of his head. *pitched **top That in the place he lay as he were dead. His breast to-bursten with his saddle-bow. As black he lay as any coal or crow, So was the blood y-run into his face. Anon he was y-borne out of the place With hearte sore, to Theseus' palace. Then was he carven* out of his harness. *cut And in a bed y-brought full fair and blive* *quickly For he was yet in mem'ry and alive, And always crying after Emily.

Duke Theseus, with all his company, Is come home to Athens his city, With alle bliss and great solemnity. Albeit that this aventure was fall*, *befallen He woulde not discomforte* them all *discourage Then said eke, that Arcite should not die, He should be healed of his malady. And of another thing they were as fain*. *glad That of them alle was there no one slain, All* were they sorely hurt, and namely** one, *although **especially That with a spear was thirled* his breast-bone. *pierced To other woundes, and to broken arms, Some hadden salves, and some hadden charms: And pharmacies of herbs, and eke save* *sage, Salvia officinalis They dranken, for they would their lives have. For which this noble Duke, as he well can, Comforteth and honoureth every man, And made revel all the longe night, Unto the strange lordes, as was right. Nor there was holden no discomforting, But as at jousts or at a tourneying; For soothly there was no discomfiture, For falling is not but an aventure*. *chance, accident Nor to be led by force unto a stake Unyielding, and with twenty knights y-take One person all alone, withouten mo', And harried* forth by armes, foot, and toe, *dragged, hurried And eke his steede driven forth with staves, With footmen, bothe yeomen and eke knaves*, *servants It was *aretted him no villainy:* *counted no disgrace to him* There may no man *clepen it cowardy*. *call it cowardice* For which anon Duke Theseus *let cry*, — *caused to be proclaimed* To stenten* alle rancour and envy, — *stop The gree* as well on one side as the other, *prize, merit And either side alike as other's brother: And gave them giftes after their degree, And held a feaste fully dayes three: And conveyed the kinges worthily Out of his town a journee* largely *day's journey And home went every man the righte way, There was no more but "Farewell, Have good day." Of this bataille I will no more indite But speak of Palamon and of Arcite.

Swelleth the breast of Arcite and the sore Increaseth at his hearte more and more. The clotted blood, for any leache-craft* *surgical skill Corrupteth and is *in his bouk y-laft* *left in his body* That neither *veine blood nor ventousing*, *blood-letting or cupping* Nor drink of herbes may be his helping. The virtue expulsive or animal, From thilke virtue called natural, Nor may the venom voide, nor expel The pipes of his lungs began to swell And every lacert* in his breast adown *sinew, muscle Is shent* with venom and corruption. *destroyed Him gaineth* neither, for to get his life, *availeth Vomit upward, nor downward laxative; All is to-bursten thilke region; Nature hath now no domination. And certainly where nature will not wirch,* *work Farewell physic: go bear the man to chirch.* *church This all and some is, Arcite must die. For which he sendeth after Emily, And Palamon, that was his cousin dear, Then said he thus, as ye shall after hear.

"Nought may the woful spirit in mine heart Declare one point of all my sorrows' smart To you, my lady, that I love the most: But I bequeath the service of my ghost To you aboven every creature, Since that my life ne may no longer dure. Alas the woe! alas, the paines strong That I for you have suffered and so long! Alas the death, alas, mine Emily! Alas departing* of our company! *the severance Alas, mine hearte's queen! alas, my wife! Mine hearte's lady, ender of my life! What is this world? what aske men to have? Now with his love, now in his colde grave Al one, withouten any company. Farewell, my sweet, farewell, mine Emily, And softly take me in your armes tway, For love of God, and hearken what I say. I have here with my cousin Palamon Had strife and rancour many a day agone, For love of you, and for my jealousy. And Jupiter so *wis my soule gie*, *surely guides my soul* To speaken of a servant properly, With alle circumstances truely, That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead, Wisdom, humbless*, estate, and high kindred, *humility Freedom, and all that longeth to that art, So Jupiter have of my soul part, As in this world right now I know not one, So worthy to be lov'd as Palamon, That serveth you, and will do all his life. And if that you shall ever be a wife, Forget not Palamon, the gentle man."

And with that word his speech to fail began. For from his feet up to his breast was come The cold of death, that had him overnome*. *overcome And yet moreover in his armes two The vital strength is lost, and all ago*. *gone Only the intellect, withoute more, That dwelled in his hearte sick and sore, Gan faile, when the hearte felte death; Dusked* his eyen two, and fail'd his breath. *grew dim But on his lady yet he cast his eye; His laste word was; "Mercy, Emily!" His spirit changed house, and wente there, As I came never I cannot telle where. Therefore I stent*, I am no divinister**; *refrain **diviner Of soules find I nought in this register. Ne me list not th' opinions to tell Of them, though that they writen where they dwell; Arcite is cold, there Mars his soule gie.* *guide Now will I speake forth of Emily.

Shriek'd Emily, and howled Palamon, And Theseus his sister took anon Swooning, and bare her from the corpse away. What helpeth it to tarry forth the day, To telle how she wept both eve and morrow? For in such cases women have such sorrow, When that their husbands be from them y-go*, *gone That for the more part they sorrow so, Or elles fall into such malady, That at the laste certainly they die. Infinite be the sorrows and the tears Of olde folk, and folk of tender years, In all the town, for death of this Theban: For him there weepeth bothe child and man. So great a weeping was there none certain, When Hector was y-brought, all fresh y-slain, To Troy: alas! the pity that was there, Scratching of cheeks, and rending eke of hair. "Why wouldest thou be dead?" these women cry, "And haddest gold enough, and Emily." No manner man might gladden Theseus, Saving his olde father Egeus, That knew this worlde's transmutatioun, As he had seen it changen up and down, Joy after woe, and woe after gladness; And shewed him example and likeness. "Right as there died never man," quoth he, "That he ne liv'd in earth in some degree*, *rank, condition Right so there lived never man," he said, "In all this world, that sometime be not died. This world is but a throughfare full of woe, And we be pilgrims, passing to and fro: Death is an end of every worldly sore." And over all this said he yet much more To this effect, full wisely to exhort The people, that they should them recomfort. Duke Theseus, with all his busy cure*, *care *Casteth about*, where that the sepulture *deliberates* Of good Arcite may best y-maked be, And eke most honourable in his degree. And at the last he took conclusion, That there as first Arcite and Palamon Hadde for love the battle them between, That in that selve* grove, sweet and green, *self-same There as he had his amorous desires, His complaint, and for love his hote fires, He woulde make a fire*, in which th' office *funeral pyre Of funeral he might all accomplice; And *let anon command* to hack and hew *immediately gave orders* The oakes old, and lay them *on a rew* *in a row* In culpons*, well arrayed for to brenne**. *logs **burn His officers with swifte feet they renne* *run And ride anon at his commandement. And after this, Duke Theseus hath sent After a bier, and it all oversprad With cloth of gold, the richest that he had; And of the same suit he clad Arcite. Upon his handes were his gloves white, Eke on his head a crown of laurel green, And in his hand a sword full bright and keen. He laid him *bare the visage* on the bier, *with face uncovered* Therewith he wept, that pity was to hear. And, for the people shoulde see him all, When it was day he brought them to the hall, That roareth of the crying and the soun'. Then came this woful Theban, Palamon, With sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs, In clothes black, y-dropped all with tears, And (passing over weeping Emily) The ruefullest of all the company. And *inasmuch as* the service should be *in order that* The more noble and rich in its degree, Duke Theseus let forth three steedes bring, That trapped were in steel all glittering. And covered with the arms of Dan Arcite. Upon these steedes, that were great and white, There satte folk, of whom one bare his shield, Another his spear in his handes held; The thirde bare with him his bow Turkeis*, *Turkish. Of brent* gold was the case** and the harness: *burnished **quiver And ride forth *a pace* with sorrowful cheer** *at a foot pace* Toward the grove, as ye shall after hear. **expression

The noblest of the Greekes that there were Upon their shoulders carried the bier, With slacke pace, and eyen red and wet, Throughout the city, by the master* street, *main That spread was all with black, and wondrous high Right of the same is all the street y-wrie.* *covered Upon the right hand went old Egeus, And on the other side Duke Theseus, With vessels in their hand of gold full fine, All full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine; Eke Palamon, with a great company; And after that came woful Emily, With fire in hand, as was that time the guise*, *custom To do th' office of funeral service.

High labour, and full great appareling* *preparation Was at the service, and the pyre-making, That with its greene top the heaven raught*, *reached And twenty fathom broad its armes straught*: *stretched This is to say, the boughes were so broad. Of straw first there was laid many a load. But how the pyre was maked up on height, And eke the names how the trees hight*, *were called As oak, fir, birch, asp*, alder, holm, poplere, *aspen Willow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, lind*, laurere, *linden, lime Maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, whipul tree, How they were fell'd, shall not be told for me; Nor how the goddes* rannen up and down *the forest deities Disinherited of their habitatioun, In which they wonned* had in rest and peace, *dwelt Nymphes, Faunes, and Hamadryades; Nor how the beastes and the birdes all Fledden for feare, when the wood gan fall; Nor how the ground aghast* was of the light, *terrified That was not wont to see the sunne bright; Nor how the fire was couched* first with stre**, *laid **straw And then with dry stickes cloven in three, And then with greene wood and spicery*, *spices And then with cloth of gold and with pierrie*, *precious stones And garlands hanging with full many a flower, The myrrh, the incense with so sweet odour; Nor how Arcita lay among all this, Nor what richess about his body is; Nor how that Emily, as was the guise*, *custom *Put in the fire* of funeral service; *appplied the torch* Nor how she swooned when she made the fire, Nor what she spake, nor what was her desire; Nor what jewels men in the fire then cast When that the fire was great and burned fast;

Nor how some cast their shield, and some their spear, And of their vestiments, which that they wear, And cuppes full of wine, and milk, and blood, Into the fire, that burnt as it were wood*; *mad Nor how the Greekes with a huge rout* *procession Three times riden all the fire about Upon the left hand, with a loud shouting, And thries with their speares clattering; And thries how the ladies gan to cry; Nor how that led was homeward Emily; Nor how Arcite is burnt to ashes cold; Nor how the lyke-wake* was y-hold *wake All thilke* night, nor how the Greekes play *that The wake-plays*, ne keep** I not to say: *funeral games **care Who wrestled best naked, with oil anoint, Nor who that bare him best *in no disjoint*. *in any contest* I will not tell eke how they all are gone Home to Athenes when the play is done; But shortly to the point now will I wend*, *come And maken of my longe tale an end.

By process and by length of certain years All stinted* is the mourning and the tears *ended Of Greekes, by one general assent. Then seemed me there was a parlement At Athens, upon certain points and cas*: *cases Amonge the which points y-spoken was To have with certain countries alliance, And have of Thebans full obeisance. For which this noble Theseus anon Let* send after the gentle Palamon, *caused Unwist* of him what was the cause and why: *unknown But in his blacke clothes sorrowfully He came at his commandment *on hie*; *in haste* Then sente Theseus for Emily. When they were set*, and hush'd was all the place *seated And Theseus abided* had a space *waited Ere any word came from his wise breast *His eyen set he there as was his lest*, *he cast his eyes And with a sad visage he sighed still, wherever he pleased* And after that right thus he said his will. "The firste mover of the cause above When he first made the faire chain of love, Great was th' effect, and high was his intent; Well wist he why, and what thereof he meant: For with that faire chain of love he bond* *bound The fire, the air, the water, and the lond In certain bondes, that they may not flee: That same prince and mover eke," quoth he, "Hath stablish'd, in this wretched world adown, Certain of dayes and duration To all that are engender'd in this place, Over the whiche day they may not pace*, *pass All may they yet their dayes well abridge. There needeth no authority to allege For it is proved by experience; But that me list declare my sentence*. *opinion Then may men by this order well discern, That thilke* mover stable is and etern. *the same Well may men know, but that it be a fool, That every part deriveth from its whole. For nature hath not ta'en its beginning Of no *partie nor cantle* of a thing, *part or piece* But of a thing that perfect is and stable, Descending so, till it be corruptable. And therefore of His wise purveyance* *providence He hath so well beset* his ordinance, That species of things and progressions Shallen endure by successions, And not etern, withouten any lie: This mayst thou understand and see at eye. Lo th' oak, that hath so long a nourishing From the time that it 'ginneth first to spring, And hath so long a life, as ye may see, Yet at the last y-wasted is the tree. Consider eke, how that the harde stone Under our feet, on which we tread and gon*, *walk Yet wasteth, as it lieth by the way. The broade river some time waxeth drey*. *dry The greate townes see we wane and wend*. *go, disappear Then may ye see that all things have an end. Of man and woman see we well also, — That needes in one of the termes two, — That is to say, in youth or else in age,- He must be dead, the king as shall a page; Some in his bed, some in the deepe sea, Some in the large field, as ye may see: There helpeth nought, all go that ilke* way: *same Then may I say that alle thing must die. What maketh this but Jupiter the king? The which is prince, and cause of alle thing, Converting all unto his proper will, From which it is derived, sooth to tell And hereagainst no creature alive, Of no degree, availeth for to strive. Then is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, To make a virtue of necessity, And take it well, that we may not eschew*, *escape And namely what to us all is due. And whoso grudgeth* ought, he doth folly, *murmurs at And rebel is to him that all may gie*. *direct, guide And certainly a man hath most honour To dien in his excellence and flower, When he is sicker* of his goode name. *certain Then hath he done his friend, nor him*, no shame *himself And gladder ought his friend be of his death, When with honour is yielded up his breath, Than when his name *appalled is for age*; *decayed by old age* For all forgotten is his vassalage*. *valour, service Then is it best, as for a worthy fame, To dien when a man is best of name. The contrary of all this is wilfulness. Why grudge we, why have we heaviness, That good Arcite, of chivalry the flower, Departed is, with duty and honour, Out of this foule prison of this life? Why grudge here his cousin and his wife Of his welfare, that loved him so well? Can he them thank? nay, God wot, neverdeal*, — *not a jot That both his soul and eke themselves offend*, *hurt And yet they may their lustes* not amend**. *desires **control What may I conclude of this longe serie*, *string of remarks But after sorrow I rede* us to be merry, *counsel And thanke Jupiter for all his grace? And ere that we departe from this place, I rede that we make of sorrows two One perfect joye lasting evermo': And look now where most sorrow is herein, There will I first amenden and begin. "Sister," quoth he, "this is my full assent, With all th' advice here of my parlement, That gentle Palamon, your owen knight, That serveth you with will, and heart, and might, And ever hath, since first time ye him knew, That ye shall of your grace upon him rue*, *take pity And take him for your husband and your lord: Lend me your hand, for this is our accord. *Let see* now of your womanly pity. *make display* He is a kinge's brother's son, pardie*. *by God And though he were a poore bachelere, Since he hath served you so many a year, And had for you so great adversity, It muste be considered, *'lieveth me*. *believe me* For gentle mercy *oweth to passen right*." *ought to be rightly Then said he thus to Palamon the knight; directed* "I trow there needeth little sermoning To make you assente to this thing. Come near, and take your lady by the hand." Betwixte them was made anon the band, That hight matrimony or marriage, By all the counsel of the baronage. And thus with alle bliss and melody Hath Palamon y-wedded Emily. And God, that all this wide world hath wrought, Send him his love, that hath it dearly bought. For now is Palamon in all his weal, Living in bliss, in riches, and in heal*. *health And Emily him loves so tenderly, And he her serveth all so gentilly, That never was there worde them between Of jealousy, nor of none other teen*. *cause of anger Thus endeth Palamon and Emily And God save all this faire company.

Notes to The Knight's Tale.

1. For the plan and principal incidents of the "Knight's Tale," Chaucer was indebted to Boccaccio, who had himself borrowed from some prior poet, chronicler, or romancer. Boccaccio speaks of the story as "very ancient;" and, though that may not be proof of its antiquity, it certainly shows that he took it from an earlier writer. The "Tale" is more or less a paraphrase of Boccaccio's "Theseida;" but in some points the copy has a distinct dramatic superiority over the original. The "Theseida" contained ten thousand lines; Chaucer has condensed it into less than one-fourth of the number. The "Knight's Tale" is supposed to have been at first composed as a separate work; it is undetermined whether Chaucer took it direct from the Italian of Boccaccio, or from a French translation.

2. Highte: was called; from the Anglo-Saxon "hatan", to bid or call; German, "Heissen", "heisst".

3. Feminie: The "Royaume des Femmes" — kingdom of the Amazons. Gower, in the "Confessio Amantis," styles Penthesilea the "Queen of Feminie."

4. Wonnen: Won, conquered; German "gewonnen."

5. Ear: To plough; Latin, "arare." "I have abundant matter for discourse." The first, and half of the second, of Boccaccio's twelve books are disposed of in the few lines foregoing.

6. Waimenting: bewailing; German, "wehklagen"

7. Starf: died; German, "sterben," "starb".

8. The Minotaur: The monster, half-man and half-bull, which yearly devoured a tribute of fourteen Athenian youths and maidens, until it was slain by Theseus.

9. Pillers: pillagers, strippers; French, "pilleurs."

10. The donjon was originally the central tower or "keep" of feudal castles; it was employed to detain prisoners of importance. Hence the modern meaning of the word dungeon.

11. Saturn, in the old astrology, was a most unpropitious star to be born under.

12. To die in the pain was a proverbial expression in the French, used as an alternative to enforce a resolution or a promise. Edward III., according to Froissart, declared that he would either succeed in the war against France or die in the pain — "Ou il mourroit en la peine." It was the fashion in those times to swear oaths of friendship and brotherhood; and hence, though the fashion has long died out, we still speak of "sworn friends."

13. The saying of the old scholar Boethius, in his treatise "De Consolatione Philosophiae", which Chaucer translated, and from which he has freely borrowed in his poetry. The words are "Quis legem det amantibus? Major lex amor est sibi." ("Who can give law to lovers? Love is a law unto himself, and greater")

14. "Perithous" and "Theseus" must, for the metre, be pronounced as words of four and three syllables respectively — the vowels at the end not being diphthongated, but enunciated separately, as if the words were printed Pe-ri-tho-us, The-se-us. The same rule applies in such words as "creature" and "conscience," which are trisyllables.

15. Stound: moment, short space of time; from Anglo-Saxon, "stund;" akin to which is German, "Stunde," an hour.

16. Meinie: servants, or menials, &c., dwelling together in a house; from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning a crowd. Compare German, "Menge," multitude.

17. The pure fetters: the very fetters. The Greeks used "katharos", the Romans "purus," in the same sense.

18. In the medieval courts of Love, to which allusion is probably made forty lines before, in the word "parlement," or "parliament," questions like that here proposed were seriously discussed.

19. Gear: behaviour, fashion, dress; but, by another reading, the word is "gyre," and means fit, trance — from the Latin, "gyro," I turn round.

20. Before his head in his cell fantastic: in front of his head in his cell of fantasy. "The division of the brain into cells, according to the different sensitive faculties," says Mr Wright, "is very ancient, and is found depicted in mediaeval manuscripts." In a manuscript in the Harleian Library, it is stated, "Certum est in prora cerebri esse fantasiam, in medio rationem discretionis, in puppi memoriam" (it is certain that in the front of the brain is imagination, in the middle reason, in the back memory) — a classification not materially differing from that of modern phrenologists.

21. Dan: Lord; Latin, "Dominus;" Spanish, "Don."

22. The "caduceus."

23. Argus was employed by Juno to watch Io with his hundred eyes but he was sent to sleep by the flute of Mercury, who then cut off his head.

24. Next: nearest; German, "naechste".

25. Clary: hippocras, wine made with spices.

26. Warray: make war; French "guerroyer", to molest; hence, perhaps, "to worry."

27. All day meeten men at unset steven: every day men meet at unexpected time. "To set a steven," is to fix a time, make an appointment.

28. Roundelay: song coming round again to the words with which it opened.

29. Now in the crop and now down in the breres: Now in the tree-top, now down in the briars. "Crop and root," top and bottom, is used to express the perfection or totality of anything.

30. Beknow: avow, acknowledge: German, "bekennen."

31. Shapen was my death erst than my shert: My death was decreed before my shirt ws shaped — that is, before any clothes were made for me, before my birth.

32. Regne: Queen; French, "Reine;" Venus is meant. The common reading, however, is "regne," reign or power.

33. Launde: plain. Compare modern English, "lawn," and French, "Landes" — flat, bare marshy tracts in the south of France.

34. Mister: manner, kind; German "muster," sample, model.

35. In listes: in the lists, prepared for such single combats between champion and accuser, &c.

36. Thilke: that, contracted from "the ilke," the same.

37. Mars the Red: referring to the ruddy colour of the planet, to which was doubtless due the transference to it of the name of the God of War. In his "Republic," enumerating the seven planets, Cicero speaks of the propitious and beneficent light of Jupiter: "Tum (fulgor) rutilis horribilisque terris, quem Martium dicitis" — "Then the red glow, horrible to the nations, which you say to be that of Mars." Boccaccio opens the "Theseida" by an invocation to "rubicondo Marte."

38. Last: lace, leash, noose, snare: from Latin, "laceus."

39. "Round was the shape, in manner of compass, Full of degrees, the height of sixty pas" The building was a circle of steps or benches, as in the ancient amphitheatre. Either the building was sixty paces high; or, more probably, there were sixty of the steps or benches.

40. Yellow goldes: The sunflower, turnsol, or girasol, which turns with and seems to watch the sun, as a jealous lover his mistress.

41. Citheron: The Isle of Venus, Cythera, in the Aegean Sea; now called Cerigo: not, as Chaucer's form of the word might imply, Mount Cithaeron, in the south-west of Boetia, which was appropriated to other deities than Venus — to Jupiter, to Bacchus, and the Muses.

42. It need not be said that Chaucer pays slight heed to chronology in this passage, where the deeds of Turnus, the glory of King Solomon, and the fate of Croesus are made memories of the far past in the time of fabulous Theseus, the Minotaur-slayer.

43. Champartie: divided power or possession; an old law-term, signifying the maintenance of a person in a law suit on the condition of receiving part of the property in dispute, if recovered.

44. Citole: a kind of dulcimer.

45. The picke-purse: The plunderers that followed armies, and gave to war a horror all their own.

46. Shepen: stable; Anglo-Saxon, "scypen;" the word "sheppon" still survives in provincial parlance.

47. This line, perhaps, refers to the deed of Jael.

48. The shippes hoppesteres: The meaning is dubious. We may understand "the dancing ships," "the ships that hop" on the waves; "steres" being taken as the feminine adjectival termination: or we may, perhaps, read, with one of the manuscripts, "the ships upon the steres" — that is, even as they are being steered, or on the open sea — a more picturesque notion.

49. Freting: devouring; the Germans use "Fressen" to mean eating by animals, "essen" by men.

50. Julius: i.e. Julius Caesar

51. Puella and Rubeus were two figures in geomancy, representing two constellations-the one signifying Mars retrograde, the other Mars direct.

52. Calistope: or Callisto, daughter of Lycaon, seduced by Jupiter, turned into a bear by Diana, and placed afterwards, with her son, as the Great Bear among the stars.

53. Dane: Daphne, daughter of the river-god Peneus, in Thessaly; she was beloved by Apollo, but to avoid his pursuit, she was, at her own prayer, changed into a laurel-tree.

54. As the goddess of Light, or the goddess who brings to light, Diana — as well as Juno — was invoked by women in childbirth: so Horace, Odes iii. 22, says:—

"Montium custos nemorumque, Virgo, Quae laborantes utero puellas Ter vocata audis adimisque leto, Diva triformis."

("Virgin custodian of hills and groves, three-formed goddess who hears and saves from death young women who call upon her thrice when in childbirth")

55. Every deal: in every part; "deal" corresponds to the German "Theil" a portion.

56. Sikerly: surely; German, "sicher;" Scotch, "sikkar," certain. When Robert Bruce had escaped from England to assume the Scottish crown, he stabbed Comyn before the altar at Dumfries; and, emerging from the church, was asked by his friend Kirkpatrick if he had slain the traitor. "I doubt it," said Bruce. "Doubt," cried Kirkpatrick. "I'll mak sikkar;" and he rushed into the church, and despatched Comyn with repeated thrusts of his dagger.

57. Kemped: combed; the word survives in "unkempt."

58. Alauns: greyhounds, mastiffs; from the Spanish word "Alano," signifying a mastiff.

59. Y-ment: mixed; German, "mengen," to mix.

60. Prime: The time of early prayers, between six and nine in the morning.

61. On the dais: see note 32 to the Prologue.

62. In her hour: in the hour of the day (two hours before daybreak) which after the astrological system that divided the twenty-four among the seven ruling planets, was under the influence of Venus.

63. Adon: Adonis, a beautiful youth beloved of Venus, whose death by the tusk of a boar she deeply mourned.

64. The third hour unequal: In the third planetary hour; Palamon had gone forth in the hour of Venus, two hours before daybreak; the hour of Mercury intervened; the third hour was that of Luna, or Diana. "Unequal" refers to the astrological division of day and night, whatever their duration, into twelve parts, which of necessity varied in length with the season.

65. Smoking: draping; hence the word "smock;" "smokless," in Chaucer, means naked.

66. Cerrial: of the species of oak which Pliny, in his "Natural History," calls "cerrus."

67. Stace of Thebes: Statius, the Roman who embodied in the twelve books of his "Thebaid" the ancient legends connected with the war of the seven against Thebes.

68. Diana was Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, and Hecate in hell; hence the direction of the eyes of her statue to "Pluto's dark region." Her statue was set up where three ways met, so that with a different face she looked down each of the three; from which she was called Trivia. See the quotation from Horace, note 54.

69. Las: net; the invisible toils in which Hephaestus caught Ares and the faithless Aphrodite, and exposed them to the "inextinguishable laughter" of Olympus.

70. Saturnus the cold: Here, as in "Mars the Red" we have the person of the deity endowed with the supposed quality of the planet called after his name.

71. The astrologers ascribed great power to Saturn, and predicted "much debate" under his ascendancy; hence it was "against his kind" to compose the heavenly strife.

72. Ayel: grandfather; French "Aieul".

73. Testers: Helmets; from the French "teste", "tete", head.

74. Parements: ornamental garb, French "parer" to deck.

75. Gniding: Rubbing, polishing; Anglo-Saxon "gnidan", to rub.

76. Nakeres: Drums, used in the cavalry; Boccaccio's word is "nachere".

77. Made an O: Ho! Ho! to command attention; like "oyez", the call for silence in law-courts or before proclamations.

78. Sarge: serge, a coarse woollen cloth

79. Heart-spoon: The concave part of the breast, where the lower ribs join the cartilago ensiformis.

80. To-hewen and to-shred: "to" before a verb implies extraordinary violence in the action denoted.

81. He through the thickest of the throng etc.. "He" in this passage refers impersonally to any of the combatants.

82. Galaphay: Galapha, in Mauritania.

83. Belmarie is supposed to have been a Moorish state in Africa; but "Palmyrie" has been suggested as the correct reading.

84. As I came never I cannot telle where: Where it went I cannot tell you, as I was not there. Tyrwhitt thinks that Chaucer is sneering at Boccacio's pompous account of the passage of Arcite's soul to heaven. Up to this point, the description of the death-scene is taken literally from the "Theseida."

85. With sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs: With neglected beard, and rough hair strewn with ashes. "Flotery" is the general reading; but "sluttery" seems to be more in keeping with the picture of abandonment to grief.

86. Master street: main street; so Froissart speaks of "le souverain carrefour."

87. Y-wrie: covered, hid; Anglo-Saxon, "wrigan," to veil.

88. Emily applied the funeral torch. The "guise" was, among the ancients, for the nearest relative of the deceased to do this, with averted face.

89. It was the custom for soldiers to march thrice around the funeral pile of an emperor or general; "on the left hand" is added, in reference to the belief that the left hand was propitious — the Roman augur turning his face southward, and so placing on his left hand the east, whence good omens came. With the Greeks, however, their augurs facing the north, it was just the contrary. The confusion, frequent in classical writers, is complicated here by the fact that Chaucer's description of the funeral of Arcite is taken from Statius' "Thebaid" — from a Roman's account of a Greek solemnity.

90. Lyke-wake: watching by the remains of the dead; from Anglo-Saxon, "lice," a corpse; German, "Leichnam."

91. Chaucer here borrows from Boethius, who says: "Hanc rerum seriem ligat, Terras ac pelagus regens, Et coelo imperitans, amor." (Love ties these things together: the earth, and the ruling sea, and the imperial heavens)



THE MILLER'S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

When that the Knight had thus his tale told In all the rout was neither young nor old, That he not said it was a noble story, And worthy to be *drawen to memory*; *recorded* And *namely the gentles* every one. *especially the gentlefolk* Our Host then laugh'd and swore, "So may I gon,* *prosper This goes aright; *unbuckled is the mail;* *the budget is opened* Let see now who shall tell another tale: For truely this game is well begun. Now telleth ye, Sir Monk, if that ye conne*, *know Somewhat, to quiten* with the Knighte's tale." *match The Miller that fordrunken was all pale, So that unnethes* upon his horse he sat, *with difficulty He would avalen* neither hood nor hat, *uncover Nor abide* no man for his courtesy, *give way to But in Pilate's voice he gan to cry, And swore by armes, and by blood, and bones, "I can a noble tale for the nones* *occasion, With which I will now quite* the Knighte's tale." *match Our Host saw well how drunk he was of ale, And said; "Robin, abide, my leve* brother, *dear Some better man shall tell us first another: Abide, and let us worke thriftily." By Godde's soul," quoth he, "that will not I, For I will speak, or elles go my way!" Our Host answer'd; "*Tell on a devil way*; *devil take you!* Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome." "Now hearken," quoth the Miller, "all and some: But first I make a protestatioun. That I am drunk, I know it by my soun': And therefore if that I misspeak or say, *Wite it* the ale of Southwark, I you pray: *blame it on* For I will tell a legend and a life Both of a carpenter and of his wife, How that a clerk hath *set the wrighte's cap*." *fooled the carpenter* The Reeve answer'd and saide, "*Stint thy clap*, *hold your tongue* Let be thy lewed drunken harlotry. It is a sin, and eke a great folly To apeiren* any man, or him defame, *injure And eke to bringe wives in evil name. Thou may'st enough of other thinges sayn." This drunken Miller spake full soon again, And saide, "Leve brother Osewold, Who hath no wife, he is no cuckold. But I say not therefore that thou art one; There be full goode wives many one. Why art thou angry with my tale now? I have a wife, pardie, as well as thou, Yet *n'old I*, for the oxen in my plough, *I would not* Taken upon me more than enough, To deemen* of myself that I am one; *judge I will believe well that I am none. An husband should not be inquisitive Of Godde's privity, nor of his wife. So he may finde Godde's foison* there, *treasure Of the remnant needeth not to enquere."

What should I more say, but that this Millere He would his wordes for no man forbear, But told his churlish* tale in his mannere; *boorish, rude Me thinketh, that I shall rehearse it here. And therefore every gentle wight I pray, For Godde's love to deem not that I say Of evil intent, but that I must rehearse Their tales all, be they better or worse, Or elles falsen* some of my mattere. *falsify And therefore whoso list it not to hear, Turn o'er the leaf, and choose another tale; For he shall find enough, both great and smale, Of storial* thing that toucheth gentiless, *historical, true And eke morality and holiness. Blame not me, if that ye choose amiss. The Miller is a churl, ye know well this, So was the Reeve, with many other mo', And harlotry* they tolde bothe two. *ribald tales *Avise you* now, and put me out of blame; *be warned* And eke men should not make earnest of game*. *jest, fun

Notes to the Prologue to the Miller's Tale

1. Pilate, an unpopular personage in the mystery-plays of the middle ages, was probably represented as having a gruff, harsh voice.

2. Wite: blame; in Scotland, "to bear the wyte," is to bear the blame.

THE TALE.

Whilom there was dwelling in Oxenford A riche gnof*, that *guestes held to board*, *miser *took in boarders* And of his craft he was a carpenter. With him there was dwelling a poor scholer, Had learned art, but all his fantasy Was turned for to learn astrology. He coude* a certain of conclusions *knew To deeme* by interrogations, *determine If that men asked him in certain hours, When that men should have drought or elles show'rs: Or if men asked him what shoulde fall Of everything, I may not reckon all.

This clerk was called Hendy* Nicholas; *gentle, handsome Of derne* love he knew and of solace; *secret, earnest And therewith he was sly and full privy, And like a maiden meek for to see. A chamber had he in that hostelry Alone, withouten any company, Full *fetisly y-dight* with herbes swoot*, *neatly decorated* And he himself was sweet as is the root *sweet Of liquorice, or any setewall*. *valerian His Almagest, and bookes great and small, His astrolabe, belonging to his art, His augrim stones, layed fair apart On shelves couched* at his bedde's head, *laid, set His press y-cover'd with a falding* red. *coarse cloth And all above there lay a gay psalt'ry On which he made at nightes melody, So sweetely, that all the chamber rang: And Angelus ad virginem he sang. And after that he sung the kinge's note; Full often blessed was his merry throat. And thus this sweete clerk his time spent After *his friendes finding and his rent.* *Attending to his friends, and providing for the cost of his lodging* This carpenter had wedded new a wife, Which that he loved more than his life: Of eighteen year, I guess, she was of age. Jealous he was, and held her narr'w in cage, For she was wild and young, and he was old, And deemed himself belike* a cuckold. *perhaps He knew not Cato, for his wit was rude, That bade a man wed his similitude. Men shoulde wedden after their estate, For youth and eld* are often at debate. *age But since that he was fallen in the snare, He must endure (as other folk) his care. Fair was this younge wife, and therewithal As any weasel her body gent* and small. *slim, neat A seint* she weared, barred all of silk, *girdle A barm-cloth* eke as white as morning milk *apron Upon her lendes*, full of many a gore**. *loins **plait White was her smock*, and broider'd all before, *robe or gown And eke behind, on her collar about Of coal-black silk, within and eke without. The tapes of her white volupere* *head-kerchief Were of the same suit of her collere; Her fillet broad of silk, and set full high: And sickerly* she had a likerous** eye. *certainly **lascivious Full small y-pulled were her browes two, And they were bent*, and black as any sloe. *arched She was well more *blissful on to see* *pleasant to look upon* Than is the newe perjenete* tree; *young pear-tree And softer than the wool is of a wether. And by her girdle hung a purse of leather, Tassel'd with silk, and *pearled with latoun*. *set with brass pearls* In all this world to seeken up and down There is no man so wise, that coude thenche* *fancy, think of So gay a popelot*, or such a wench. *puppet Full brighter was the shining of her hue, Than in the Tower the noble* forged new. *a gold coin But of her song, it was as loud and yern*, *lively As any swallow chittering on a bern*. *barn Thereto* she coulde skip, and *make a game* *also *romp* As any kid or calf following his dame. Her mouth was sweet as braket, or as methe* *mead Or hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath. Wincing* she was as is a jolly colt, *skittish Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt. A brooch she bare upon her low collere, As broad as is the boss of a bucklere. Her shoon were laced on her legges high; She was a primerole,* a piggesnie , *primrose For any lord t' have ligging* in his bed, *lying Or yet for any good yeoman to wed.

Now, sir, and eft* sir, so befell the case, *again That on a day this Hendy Nicholas Fell with this younge wife to rage* and play, *toy, play the rogue While that her husband was at Oseney, As clerkes be full subtle and full quaint. And privily he caught her by the queint,* *cunt And said; "Y-wis,* but if I have my will, *assuredly For *derne love of thee, leman, I spill."* *for earnest love of thee And helde her fast by the haunche bones, my mistress, I perish* And saide "Leman, love me well at once, Or I will dien, all so God me save." And she sprang as a colt doth in the trave: And with her head she writhed fast away, And said; "I will not kiss thee, by my fay*. *faith Why let be," quoth she, "let be, Nicholas, Or I will cry out harow and alas! Do away your handes, for your courtesy." This Nicholas gan mercy for to cry, And spake so fair, and proffer'd him so fast, That she her love him granted at the last, And swore her oath by Saint Thomas of Kent, That she would be at his commandement, When that she may her leisure well espy. "My husband is so full of jealousy, That but* ye waite well, and be privy, *unless I wot right well I am but dead," quoth she. "Ye muste be full derne* as in this case." *secret "Nay, thereof care thee nought," quoth Nicholas: "A clerk had *litherly beset his while*, *ill spent his time* *But if* he could a carpenter beguile." *unless And thus they were accorded and y-sworn To wait a time, as I have said beforn. When Nicholas had done thus every deal*, *whit And thwacked her about the lendes* well, *loins He kiss'd her sweet, and taketh his psalt'ry And playeth fast, and maketh melody. Then fell it thus, that to the parish church, Of Christe's owen workes for to wirch*, *work This good wife went upon a holy day; Her forehead shone as bright as any day, So was it washen, when she left her werk.

Now was there of that church a parish clerk, The which that was y-cleped Absolon. Curl'd was his hair, and as the gold it shone, And strutted* as a fanne large and broad; *stretched Full straight and even lay his jolly shode*. *head of hair His rode* was red, his eyen grey as goose, *complexion With Paule's windows carven on his shoes In hosen red he went full fetisly*. *daintily, neatly Y-clad he was full small and properly, All in a kirtle* of a light waget*; *girdle **sky blue Full fair and thicke be the pointes set, And thereupon he had a gay surplice, As white as is the blossom on the rise*. *twig A merry child he was, so God me save; Well could he letten blood, and clip, and shave, And make a charter of land, and a quittance. In twenty manners could he trip and dance, After the school of Oxenforde tho*, *then And with his legges caste to and fro; And playen songes on a small ribible*; *fiddle Thereto he sung sometimes a loud quinible* *treble And as well could he play on a gitern.* *guitar In all the town was brewhouse nor tavern, That he not visited with his solas*, *mirth, sport There as that any *garnard tapstere* was. *licentious barmaid* But sooth to say he was somedeal squaimous* *squeamish Of farting, and of speeche dangerous. This Absolon, that jolly was and gay, Went with a censer on the holy day, Censing* the wives of the parish fast; *burning incense for And many a lovely look he on them cast, And namely* on this carpenter's wife: *especially To look on her him thought a merry life. She was so proper, and sweet, and likerous. I dare well say, if she had been a mouse, And he a cat, he would *her hent anon*. *have soon caught her* This parish clerk, this jolly Absolon, Hath in his hearte such a love-longing! That of no wife took he none offering; For courtesy he said he woulde none. The moon at night full clear and brighte shone, And Absolon his gitern hath y-taken, For paramours he thoughte for to waken, And forth he went, jolif* and amorous, *joyous Till he came to the carpentere's house, A little after the cock had y-crow, And *dressed him* under a shot window , *stationed himself.* That was upon the carpentere's wall. He singeth in his voice gentle and small; "Now, dear lady, if thy will be, I pray that ye will rue* on me;" *take pity Full well accordant to his giterning. This carpenter awoke, and heard him sing, And spake unto his wife, and said anon, What Alison, hear'st thou not Absolon, That chanteth thus under our bower* wall?" *chamber And she answer'd her husband therewithal; "Yes, God wot, John, I hear him every deal." This passeth forth; what will ye bet* than well? *better

From day to day this jolly Absolon So wooeth her, that him is woebegone. He waketh all the night, and all the day, To comb his lockes broad, and make him gay. He wooeth her *by means and by brocage*, *by presents and by agents* And swore he woulde be her owen page. He singeth brokking* as a nightingale. *quavering He sent her piment , mead, and spiced ale, And wafers* piping hot out of the glede**: *cakes **coals And, for she was of town, he proffer'd meed. For some folk will be wonnen for richess, And some for strokes, and some with gentiless. Sometimes, to show his lightness and mast'ry, He playeth Herod on a scaffold high. But what availeth him as in this case? So loveth she the Hendy Nicholas, That Absolon may *blow the bucke's horn*: *"go whistle"* He had for all his labour but a scorn. And thus she maketh Absolon her ape, And all his earnest turneth to a jape*. *jest Full sooth is this proverb, it is no lie; Men say right thus alway; the nighe sly Maketh oft time the far lief to be loth. For though that Absolon be wood* or wroth *mad Because that he far was from her sight, This nigh Nicholas stood still in his light. Now bear thee well, thou Hendy Nicholas, For Absolon may wail and sing "Alas!"

And so befell, that on a Saturday This carpenter was gone to Oseney, And Hendy Nicholas and Alison Accorded were to this conclusion, That Nicholas shall *shape him a wile* *devise a stratagem* The silly jealous husband to beguile; And if so were the game went aright, She shoulde sleepen in his arms all night; For this was her desire and his also. And right anon, withoute wordes mo', This Nicholas no longer would he tarry, But doth full soft unto his chamber carry Both meat and drinke for a day or tway. And to her husband bade her for to say, If that he asked after Nicholas, She shoulde say, "She wist* not where he was; *knew Of all the day she saw him not with eye; She trowed* he was in some malady, *believed For no cry that her maiden could him call He would answer, for nought that might befall." Thus passed forth all thilke* Saturday, *that That Nicholas still in his chamber lay, And ate, and slept, and didde what him list Till Sunday, that* the sunne went to rest. *when This silly carpenter *had great marvaill* *wondered greatly* Of Nicholas, or what thing might him ail, And said; "I am adrad*, by Saint Thomas! *afraid, in dread It standeth not aright with Nicholas: *God shielde* that he died suddenly. *heaven forbid!* This world is now full fickle sickerly*. *certainly I saw to-day a corpse y-borne to chirch, That now on Monday last I saw him wirch*. *work "Go up," quod he unto his knave*, "anon; *servant. Clepe* at his door, or knocke with a stone: *call Look how it is, and tell me boldely." This knave went him up full sturdily, And, at the chamber door while that he stood, He cried and knocked as that he were wood:* *mad "What how? what do ye, Master Nicholay? How may ye sleepen all the longe day?" But all for nought, he hearde not a word. An hole he found full low upon the board, Where as the cat was wont in for to creep, And at that hole he looked in full deep, And at the last he had of him a sight. This Nicholas sat ever gaping upright, As he had kyked* on the newe moon. *looked Adown he went, and told his master soon, In what array he saw this ilke* man. *same

This carpenter to *blissen him* began, *bless, cross himself* And said: "Now help us, Sainte Frideswide. A man wot* little what shall him betide. *knows This man is fall'n with his astronomy Into some woodness* or some agony. *madness I thought aye well how that it shoulde be. Men should know nought of Godde's privity*. *secrets Yea, blessed be alway a lewed* man, *unlearned That *nought but only his believe can*. *knows no more So far'd another clerk with astronomy: than his "credo."* He walked in the fieldes for to *pry Upon* the starres, what there should befall, *keep watch on* Till he was in a marle pit y-fall. He saw not that. But yet, by Saint Thomas! *Me rueth sore of* Hendy Nicholas: *I am very sorry for* He shall be *rated of* his studying, *chidden for* If that I may, by Jesus, heaven's king! Get me a staff, that I may underspore* *lever up While that thou, Robin, heavest off the door: He shall out of his studying, as I guess." And to the chamber door he gan him dress* *apply himself. His knave was a strong carl for the nonce, And by the hasp he heav'd it off at once; Into the floor the door fell down anon. This Nicholas sat aye as still as stone, And ever he gap'd upward into the air. The carpenter ween'd* he were in despair, *thought And hent* him by the shoulders mightily, *caught And shook him hard, and cried spitously;* *angrily "What, Nicholas? what how, man? look adown: Awake, and think on Christe's passioun. I crouche thee from elves, and from wights*. *witches Therewith the night-spell said he anon rights*, *properly On the four halves* of the house about, *corners And on the threshold of the door without. "Lord Jesus Christ, and Sainte Benedight, Blesse this house from every wicked wight, From the night mare, the white Pater-noster; Where wonnest* thou now, Sainte Peter's sister?" *dwellest And at the last this Hendy Nicholas Gan for to sigh full sore, and said; "Alas! Shall all time world be lost eftsoones* now?" *forthwith This carpenter answer'd; "What sayest thou? What? think on God, as we do, men that swink.*" *labour This Nicholas answer'd; "Fetch me a drink; And after will I speak in privity Of certain thing that toucheth thee and me: I will tell it no other man certain."

This carpenter went down, and came again, And brought of mighty ale a large quart; And when that each of them had drunk his part, This Nicholas his chamber door fast shet*, *shut And down the carpenter by him he set, And saide; "John, mine host full lief* and dear, *loved Thou shalt upon thy truthe swear me here, That to no wight thou shalt my counsel wray*: *betray For it is Christes counsel that I say, And if thou tell it man, thou art forlore:* *lost For this vengeance thou shalt have therefor, That if thou wraye* me, thou shalt be wood**." *betray **mad "Nay, Christ forbid it for his holy blood!" Quoth then this silly man; "I am no blab,* *talker Nor, though I say it, am I *lief to gab*. *fond of speech* Say what thou wilt, I shall it never tell To child or wife, by him that harried Hell."

"Now, John," quoth Nicholas, "I will not lie, I have y-found in my astrology, As I have looked in the moone bright, That now on Monday next, at quarter night, Shall fall a rain, and that so wild and wood*, *mad That never half so great was Noe's flood. This world," he said, "in less than half an hour Shall all be dreint*, so hideous is the shower: *drowned Thus shall mankinde drench*, and lose their life." *drown This carpenter answer'd; "Alas, my wife! And shall she drench? alas, mine Alisoun!" For sorrow of this he fell almost adown, And said; "Is there no remedy in this case?" "Why, yes, for God," quoth Hendy Nicholas; "If thou wilt worken after *lore and rede*; *learning and advice* Thou may'st not worken after thine own head. For thus saith Solomon, that was full true: Work all by counsel, and thou shalt not rue*. *repent And if thou worke wilt by good counseil, I undertake, withoute mast or sail, Yet shall I save her, and thee, and me. Hast thou not heard how saved was Noe, When that our Lord had warned him beforn, That all the world with water *should be lorn*?" *should perish* "Yes," quoth this carpenter," *full yore ago*." *long since* "Hast thou not heard," quoth Nicholas, "also The sorrow of Noe, with his fellowship, That he had ere he got his wife to ship? *Him had been lever, I dare well undertake, At thilke time, than all his wethers black, That she had had a ship herself alone.* *see note And therefore know'st thou what is best to be done? This asketh haste, and of an hasty thing Men may not preach or make tarrying. Anon go get us fast into this inn* *house A kneading trough, or else a kemelin*, *brewing-tub For each of us; but look that they be large, In whiche we may swim* as in a barge: *float And have therein vitaille suffisant But for one day; fie on the remenant; The water shall aslake* and go away *slacken, abate Aboute prime* upon the nexte day. *early morning But Robin may not know of this, thy knave*, *servant Nor eke thy maiden Gill I may not save: Ask me not why: for though thou aske me I will not telle Godde's privity. Sufficeth thee, *but if thy wit be mad*, *unless thou be To have as great a grace as Noe had; out of thy wits* Thy wife shall I well saven out of doubt. Go now thy way, and speed thee hereabout. But when thou hast for her, and thee, and me, Y-gotten us these kneading tubbes three, Then shalt thou hang them in the roof full high, So that no man our purveyance* espy: *foresight, providence And when thou hast done thus as I have said, And hast our vitaille fair in them y-laid, And eke an axe to smite the cord in two When that the water comes, that we may go, And break an hole on high upon the gable Into the garden-ward, over the stable, That we may freely passe forth our way, When that the greate shower is gone away. Then shalt thou swim as merry, I undertake, As doth the white duck after her drake: Then will I clepe,* 'How, Alison? How, John? *call Be merry: for the flood will pass anon.' And thou wilt say, 'Hail, Master Nicholay, Good-morrow, I see thee well, for it is day.' And then shall we be lordes all our life Of all the world, as Noe and his wife. But of one thing I warne thee full right, Be well advised, on that ilke* night, *same When we be enter'd into shippe's board, That none of us not speak a single word, Nor clepe nor cry, but be in his prayere, For that is Godde's owen heste* dear. *command Thy wife and thou must hangen far atween*, *asunder For that betwixte you shall be no sin, No more in looking than there shall in deed. This ordinance is said: go, God thee speed To-morrow night, when men be all asleep, Into our kneading tubbes will we creep, And sitte there, abiding Godde's grace. Go now thy way, I have no longer space To make of this no longer sermoning: Men say thus: Send the wise, and say nothing: Thou art so wise, it needeth thee nought teach. Go, save our lives, and that I thee beseech."

This silly carpenter went forth his way, Full oft he said, "Alas! and Well-a-day!,' And to his wife he told his privity, And she was ware, and better knew than he What all this *quainte cast was for to say*. *strange contrivance But natheless she fear'd as she would dey, meant* And said: "Alas! go forth thy way anon. Help us to scape, or we be dead each one. I am thy true and very wedded wife; Go, deare spouse, and help to save our life." Lo, what a great thing is affection! Men may die of imagination, So deeply may impression be take. This silly carpenter begins to quake: He thinketh verily that he may see This newe flood come weltering as the sea To drenchen* Alison, his honey dear. *drown He weepeth, waileth, maketh *sorry cheer*; *dismal countenance* He sigheth, with full many a sorry sough.* *groan He go'th, and getteth him a kneading trough, And after that a tub, and a kemelin, And privily he sent them to his inn: And hung them in the roof full privily. With his own hand then made he ladders three, To climbe by *the ranges and the stalks* *the rungs and the uprights* Unto the tubbes hanging in the balks*; *beams And victualed them, kemelin, trough, and tub, With bread and cheese, and good ale in a jub*, *jug Sufficing right enough as for a day. But ere that he had made all this array, He sent his knave*, and eke his wench** also, *servant **maid Upon his need* to London for to go. *business And on the Monday, when it drew to night, He shut his door withoute candle light, And dressed* every thing as it should be. *prepared And shortly up they climbed all the three. They satte stille well *a furlong way*. *the time it would take "Now, Pater noster, clum," said Nicholay, to walk a furlong* And "clum," quoth John; and "clum," said Alison: This carpenter said his devotion, And still he sat and bidded his prayere, Awaking on the rain, if he it hear. The deade sleep, for weary business, Fell on this carpenter, right as I guess, About the curfew-time, or little more, For *travail of his ghost* he groaned sore, *anguish of spirit* *And eft he routed, for his head mislay.* *and then he snored, Adown the ladder stalked Nicholay; for his head lay awry* And Alison full soft adown she sped. Withoute wordes more they went to bed, *There as* the carpenter was wont to lie: *where* There was the revel, and the melody. And thus lay Alison and Nicholas, In business of mirth and in solace, Until the bell of laudes* gan to ring, *morning service, at 3.a.m. And friars in the chancel went to sing.

This parish clerk, this amorous Absolon, That is for love alway so woebegone, Upon the Monday was at Oseney With company, him to disport and play; And asked upon cas* a cloisterer** *occasion **monk Full privily after John the carpenter; And he drew him apart out of the church, And said, "I n'ot;* I saw him not here wirch** *know not **work Since Saturday; I trow that he be went For timber, where our abbot hath him sent. And dwellen at the Grange a day or two: For he is wont for timber for to go, Or else he is at his own house certain. Where that he be, I cannot *soothly sayn.*" *say certainly* This Absolon full jolly was and light, And thought, "Now is the time to wake all night, For sickerly* I saw him not stirring *certainly About his door, since day began to spring. So may I thrive, but I shall at cock crow Full privily go knock at his window, That stands full low upon his bower* wall: *chamber To Alison then will I tellen all My love-longing; for I shall not miss That at the leaste way I shall her kiss. Some manner comfort shall I have, parfay*, *by my faith My mouth hath itched all this livelong day: That is a sign of kissing at the least. All night I mette* eke I was at a feast. *dreamt Therefore I will go sleep an hour or tway, And all the night then will I wake and play." When that the first cock crowed had, anon Up rose this jolly lover Absolon, And him arrayed gay, *at point devise.* *with exact care* But first he chewed grains and liquorice, To smelle sweet, ere he had combed his hair. Under his tongue a true love he bare, For thereby thought he to be gracious.

Then came he to the carpentere's house, And still he stood under the shot window; Unto his breast it raught*, it was so low; *reached And soft he coughed with a semisoun'.* *low tone "What do ye, honeycomb, sweet Alisoun? My faire bird, my sweet cinamome*, *cinnamon, sweet spice Awaken, leman* mine, and speak to me. *mistress Full little thinke ye upon my woe, That for your love I sweat *there as* I go. *wherever No wonder is that I do swelt* and sweat. *faint I mourn as doth a lamb after the teat Y-wis*, leman, I have such love-longing, *certainly That like a turtle* true is my mourning. *turtle-dove I may not eat, no more than a maid." "Go from the window, thou jack fool," she said: "As help me God, it will not be, 'come ba* me.' *kiss I love another, else I were to blame", Well better than thee, by Jesus, Absolon. Go forth thy way, or I will cast a stone; And let me sleep; *a twenty devil way*. *twenty devils take ye!* "Alas!" quoth Absolon, "and well away! That true love ever was so ill beset: Then kiss me, since that it may be no bet*, *better For Jesus' love, and for the love of me." "Wilt thou then go thy way therewith?" , quoth she. "Yea, certes, leman," quoth this Absolon. "Then make thee ready," quoth she, "I come anon." [And unto Nicholas she said *full still*: *in a low voice* "Now peace, and thou shalt laugh anon thy fill."] This Absolon down set him on his knees, And said; "I am a lord at all degrees: For after this I hope there cometh more; Leman, thy grace, and, sweete bird, thine ore.*" *favour The window she undid, and that in haste. "Have done," quoth she, "come off, and speed thee fast, Lest that our neighebours should thee espy." Then Absolon gan wipe his mouth full dry. Dark was the night as pitch or as the coal, And at the window she put out her hole, And Absolon him fell ne bet ne werse, But with his mouth he kiss'd her naked erse Full savourly. When he was ware of this, Aback he start, and thought it was amiss; For well he wist a woman hath no beard. He felt a thing all rough, and long y-hair'd, And saide; "Fy, alas! what have I do?" "Te he!" quoth she, and clapt the window to; And Absolon went forth at sorry pace. "A beard, a beard," said Hendy Nicholas; "By God's corpus, this game went fair and well." This silly Absolon heard every deal*, *word And on his lip he gan for anger bite; And to himself he said, "I shall thee quite*. *requite, be even with Who rubbeth now, who frotteth* now his lips *rubs With dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips, But Absolon? that saith full oft, "Alas! My soul betake I unto Sathanas, But me were lever* than all this town," quoth he *rather I this despite awroken* for to be. *revenged Alas! alas! that I have been y-blent*." *deceived His hote love is cold, and all y-quent.* *quenched For from that time that he had kiss'd her erse, Of paramours he *sette not a kers,* *cared not a rush* For he was healed of his malady; Full often paramours he gan defy, And weep as doth a child that hath been beat. A softe pace he went over the street Unto a smith, men callen Dan* Gerveis, *master That in his forge smithed plough-harness; He sharped share and culter busily. This Absolon knocked all easily, And said; "Undo, Gerveis, and that anon." "What, who art thou?" "It is I, Absolon." "What? Absolon, what? Christe's sweete tree*, *cross Why rise so rath*? hey! Benedicite, *early What aileth you? some gay girl, God it wote, Hath brought you thus upon the viretote: By Saint Neot, ye wot well what I mean." This Absolon he raughte* not a bean *recked, cared Of all his play; no word again he gaf*, *spoke For he had more tow on his distaff Than Gerveis knew, and saide; "Friend so dear, That hote culter in the chimney here Lend it to me, I have therewith to don*: *do I will it bring again to thee full soon." Gerveis answered; "Certes, were it gold, Or in a poke* nobles all untold, *purse Thou shouldst it have, as I am a true smith. Hey! Christe's foot, what will ye do therewith?" "Thereof," quoth Absolon, "be as be may; I shall well tell it thee another day:" And caught the culter by the colde stele*. *handle Full soft out at the door he gan to steal, And went unto the carpentere's wall He coughed first, and knocked therewithal Upon the window, light as he did ere*. *before This Alison answered; "Who is there That knocketh so? I warrant him a thief." "Nay, nay," quoth he, "God wot, my sweete lefe*, *love I am thine Absolon, my own darling. Of gold," quoth he, "I have thee brought a ring, My mother gave it me, so God me save! Full fine it is, and thereto well y-grave*: *engraved This will I give to thee, if thou me kiss." Now Nicholas was risen up to piss, And thought he would *amenden all the jape*; *improve the joke* He shoulde kiss his erse ere that he scape: And up the window did he hastily, And out his erse he put full privily Over the buttock, to the haunche bone. And therewith spake this clerk, this Absolon, "Speak, sweete bird, I know not where thou art." This Nicholas anon let fly a fart, As great as it had been a thunder dent*; *peal, clap That with the stroke he was well nigh y-blent*; *blinded But he was ready with his iron hot, And Nicholas amid the erse he smote. Off went the skin an handbreadth all about. The hote culter burned so his tout*, *breech That for the smart he weened* he would die; *thought As he were wood*, for woe he gan to cry, *mad "Help! water, water, help for Godde's heart!"

This carpenter out of his slumber start, And heard one cry "Water," as he were wood*, *mad And thought, "Alas! now cometh Noe's flood." He sat him up withoute wordes mo' And with his axe he smote the cord in two; And down went all; he found neither to sell Nor bread nor ale, till he came to the sell*, *threshold Upon the floor, and there in swoon he lay. Up started Alison and Nicholay, And cried out an "harow!" in the street. The neighbours alle, bothe small and great In ranne, for to gauren* on this man, *stare That yet in swoone lay, both pale and wan: For with the fall he broken had his arm. But stand he must unto his owen harm, For when he spake, he was anon borne down With Hendy Nicholas and Alisoun. They told to every man that he was wood*; *mad He was aghaste* so of Noe's flood, *afraid Through phantasy, that of his vanity He had y-bought him kneading-tubbes three, And had them hanged in the roof above; And that he prayed them for Godde's love To sitten in the roof for company. The folk gan laughen at his phantasy. Into the roof they kyken* and they gape, *peep, look. And turned all his harm into a jape*. *jest For whatsoe'er this carpenter answer'd, It was for nought, no man his reason heard. With oathes great he was so sworn adown, That he was holden wood in all the town. For every clerk anon right held with other; They said, "The man was wood, my leve* brother;" *dear And every wight gan laughen at his strife. Thus swived* was the carpentere's wife, *enjoyed For all his keeping* and his jealousy; *care And Absolon hath kiss'd her nether eye; And Nicholas is scalded in the tout. This tale is done, and God save all the rout*. *company

Notes to the Miller's Tale

1. Almagest: The book of Ptolemy the astronomer, which formed the canon of astrological science in the middle ages.

2. Astrolabe: "Astrelagour," "astrelabore"; a mathematical instrument for taking the altitude of the sun or stars.

3. "Augrim" is a corruption of algorithm, the Arabian term for numeration; "augrim stones," therefore were probably marked with numerals, and used as counters.

4. Angelus ad virginem: The Angel's salutation to Mary; Luke i. 28. It was the "Ave Maria" of the Catholic Church service.

5. Cato: Though Chaucer may have referred to the famous Censor, more probably the reference is merely to the "Moral Distichs," which go under his name, though written after his time; and in a supplement to which the quoted passage may be found.

6. Barm-cloth: apron; from Anglo-Saxon "barme," bosom or lap.

7. Volupere: Head-gear, kerchief; from French, "envelopper," to wrap up.

8. Popelet: Puppet; but chiefly; young wench.

9. Noble: nobles were gold coins of especial purity and brightness; "Ex auro nobilissimi, unde nobilis vocatus," (made from the noblest (purest) gold, and therefore called nobles) says Vossius.

10. Yern: Shrill, lively; German, "gern," willingly, cheerfully.

11. Braket: bragget, a sweet drink made of honey, spices, &c. In some parts of the country, a drink made from honeycomb, after the honey is extracted, is still called "bragwort."

12. Piggesnie: a fond term, like "my duck;" from Anglo-Saxon, "piga," a young maid; but Tyrwhitt associates it with the Latin, "ocellus," little eye, a fondling term, and suggests that the "pigs- eye," which is very small, was applied in the same sense. Davenport and Butler both use the word pigsnie, the first for "darling," the second literally for "eye;" and Bishop Gardner, "On True Obedience," in his address to the reader, says: "How softly she was wont to chirpe him under the chin, and kiss him; how prettily she could talk to him (how doth my sweet heart, what saith now pig's-eye)."

13. Oseney: A once well-known abbey near Oxford.

14. Trave: travis; a frame in which unruly horses were shod.

15. Harow and Alas: Haro! was an old Norman cry for redress or aid. The "Clameur de Haro" was lately raised, under peculiar circumstances, as the prelude to a legal protest, in Jersey.

16. His shoes were ornamented like the windows of St. Paul's, especially like the old rose-window.

17. Rise: Twig, bush; German, "Reis," a twig; "Reisig," a copse.

18. Chaucer satirises the dancing of Oxford as he did the French of Stratford at Bow.

19. Shot window: A projecting or bow window, whence it was possible shoot at any one approaching the door.

20. Piment: A drink made with wine, honey, and spices.

21. Because she was town-bred, he offered wealth, or money reward, for her love.

22. Parish-clerks, like Absolon, had leading parts in the mysteries or religious plays; Herod was one of these parts, which may have been an object of competition among the amateurs of the period.

23 ."The nighe sly maketh oft time the far lief to be loth": a proverb; the cunning one near at hand oft makes the loving one afar off to be odious.

24. Kyked: Looked; "keek" is still used in some parts in the sense of "peep."

25. Saint Frideswide was the patroness of a considerable priory at Oxford, and held there in high repute.

26. Plato, in his "Theatetus," tells this story of Thales; but it has since appeared in many other forms.

27. Crouche: protect by signing the sign of the cross.

28. Forlore: lost; german, "verloren."

29. Him that harried Hell: Christ who wasted or subdued hell: in the middle ages, some very active exploits against the prince of darkness and his powers were ascribed by the monkish tale- tellers to the saviour after he had "descended into hell."

30. According to the old mysteries, Noah's wife refused to come into the ark, and bade her husband row forth and get him a new wife, because he was leaving her gossips in the town to drown. Shem and his brothers got her shipped by main force; and Noah, coming forward to welcome her, was greeted with a box on the ear.

31. "Him had been lever, I dare well undertake, At thilke time, than all his wethers black, That she had had a ship herself alone." i.e. "At that time he would have given all his black wethers, if she had had an ark to herself."

32. "Clum," like "mum," a note of silence; but otherwise explained as the humming sound made in repeating prayers; from the Anglo-Saxon, "clumian," to mutter, speak in an under- tone, keep silence.

33. Curfew-time: Eight in the evening, when, by the law of William the Conqueror, all people were, on ringing of a bell, to extinguish fire and candle, and go to rest; hence the word curfew, from French, "couvre-feu," cover-fire.

34. Absolon chewed grains: these were grains of Paris, or Paradise; a favourite spice.

35. Under his tongue a true love he bare: some sweet herb; another reading, however, is "a true love-knot," which may have been of the nature of a charm.

36. The two lines within brackets are not in most of the editions: they are taken from Urry; whether he supplied them or not, they serve the purpose of a necessary explanation.

37. Gay girl: As applied to a young woman of light manners, this euphemistic phrase has enjoyed a wonderful vitality.

38. Viretote: Urry reads "meritote," and explains it from Spelman as a game in which children made themselves giddy by whirling on ropes. In French, "virer" means to turn; and the explanation may, therefore, suit either reading. In modern slang parlance, Gerveis would probably have said, "on the rampage," or "on the swing" — not very far from Spelman's rendering.

39. He had more tow on his distaff: a proverbial saying: he was playing a deeper game, had more serious business on hand.

40. Ere: before; German, "eher."

41. Sell: sill of the door, threshold; French, "seuil," Latin, "solum," the ground.



THE REEVE'S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

WHEN folk had laughed all at this nice case Of Absolon and Hendy Nicholas, Diverse folk diversely they said, But for the more part they laugh'd and play'd;* *were diverted And at this tale I saw no man him grieve, But it were only Osewold the Reeve. Because he was of carpenteres craft, A little ire is in his hearte laft*; *left He gan to grudge* and blamed it a lite.** *murmur **little. "So the* I," quoth he, "full well could I him quite** *thrive **match With blearing* of a proude miller's eye, *dimming If that me list to speak of ribaldry. But I am old; me list not play for age; Grass time is done, my fodder is now forage. This white top* writeth mine olde years; *head Mine heart is also moulded* as mine hairs; *grown mouldy And I do fare as doth an open-erse*; *medlar That ilke* fruit is ever longer werse, *same Till it be rotten *in mullok or in stre*. *on the ground or in straw* We olde men, I dread, so fare we; Till we be rotten, can we not be ripe; We hop* away, while that the world will pipe; *dance For in our will there sticketh aye a nail, To have an hoary head and a green tail, As hath a leek; for though our might be gone, Our will desireth folly ever-in-one*: *continually For when we may not do, then will we speak, Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek.* *smoke Four gledes* have we, which I shall devise**, *coals ** describe Vaunting, and lying, anger, covetise*. *covetousness These foure sparks belongen unto eld. Our olde limbes well may be unweld*, *unwieldy But will shall never fail us, that is sooth. And yet have I alway a coltes tooth, As many a year as it is passed and gone Since that my tap of life began to run; For sickerly*, when I was born, anon *certainly Death drew the tap of life, and let it gon: And ever since hath so the tap y-run, Till that almost all empty is the tun. The stream of life now droppeth on the chimb. The silly tongue well may ring and chime Of wretchedness, that passed is full yore*: *long With olde folk, save dotage, is no more.

When that our Host had heard this sermoning, He gan to speak as lordly as a king, And said; "To what amounteth all this wit? What? shall we speak all day of holy writ? The devil made a Reeve for to preach, As of a souter* a shipman, or a leach**. *cobbler Say forth thy tale, and tarry not the time: **surgeon Lo here is Deptford, and 'tis half past prime: Lo Greenwich, where many a shrew is in. It were high time thy tale to begin."

"Now, sirs," quoth then this Osewold the Reeve, I pray you all that none of you do grieve, Though I answer, and somewhat set his hove*, *hood For lawful is *force off with force to shove.* *to repel force This drunken miller hath y-told us here by force* How that beguiled was a carpentere, Paraventure* in scorn, for I am one: *perhaps And, by your leave, I shall him quite anon. Right in his churlish termes will I speak, I pray to God his necke might to-break. He can well in mine eye see a stalk, But in his own he cannot see a balk."

Notes to the Prologue to the Reeves Tale.

1. "With blearing of a proude miller's eye": dimming his eye; playing off a joke on him.

2. "Me list not play for age": age takes away my zest for drollery.

3. The medlar, the fruit of the mespilus tree, is only edible when rotten.

4. Yet in our ashes cold does fire reek: "ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires."

5. A colt's tooth; a wanton humour, a relish for pleasure.

6. Chimb: The rim of a barrel where the staves project beyond the head.

7. With olde folk, save dotage, is no more: Dotage is all that is left them; that is, they can only dwell fondly, dote, on the past.

8. Souter: cobbler; Scottice, "sutor;"' from Latin, "suere," to sew.

9. "Ex sutore medicus" (a surgeon from a cobbler) and "ex sutore nauclerus" (a seaman or pilot from a cobbler) were both proverbial expressions in the Middle Ages.

10. Half past prime: half-way between prime and tierce; about half-past seven in the morning.

11. Set his hove; like "set their caps;" as in the description of the Manciple in the Prologue, who "set their aller cap". "Hove" or "houfe," means "hood;" and the phrase signifies to be even with, outwit.

12. The illustration of the mote and the beam, from Matthew.

THE TALE.

At Trompington, not far from Cantebrig,* *Cambridge There goes a brook, and over that a brig, Upon the whiche brook there stands a mill: And this is *very sooth* that I you tell. *complete truth* A miller was there dwelling many a day, As any peacock he was proud and gay: Pipen he could, and fish, and nettes bete*, *prepare And turne cups, and wrestle well, and shete*. *shoot Aye by his belt he bare a long pavade*, *poniard And of his sword full trenchant was the blade. A jolly popper* bare he in his pouch; *dagger There was no man for peril durst him touch. A Sheffield whittle* bare he in his hose. *small knife Round was his face, and camuse* was his nose. *flat As pilled* as an ape's was his skull. *peeled, bald. He was a market-beter* at the full. *brawler There durste no wight hand upon him legge*, *lay That he ne swore anon he should abegge*. *suffer the penalty

A thief he was, for sooth, of corn and meal, And that a sly, and used well to steal. His name was *hoten deinous Simekin* *called "Disdainful Simkin"* A wife he hadde, come of noble kin: The parson of the town her father was. With her he gave full many a pan of brass, For that Simkin should in his blood ally. She was y-foster'd in a nunnery: For Simkin woulde no wife, as he said, But she were well y-nourish'd, and a maid, To saven his estate and yeomanry: And she was proud, and pert as is a pie*. *magpie A full fair sight it was to see them two; On holy days before her would he go With his tippet* y-bound about his head; *hood And she came after in a gite* of red, *gown And Simkin hadde hosen of the same. There durste no wight call her aught but Dame: None was so hardy, walking by that way, That with her either durste *rage or play*, *use freedom* *But if* he would be slain by Simekin *unless With pavade, or with knife, or bodekin. For jealous folk be per'lous evermo': Algate* they would their wives *wende so*. *unless *so behave* And eke for she was somewhat smutterlich*, *dirty She was as dign* as water in a ditch, *nasty And all so full of hoker*, and bismare**. *ill-nature **abusive speech Her thoughte that a lady should her spare*, *not judge her hardly What for her kindred, and her nortelrie* *nurturing, education That she had learned in the nunnery.

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