615

In youthe he lerned hadde a good mister;18
He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter.
This reve sat up-on a ful good stot,19
That was al pomely 20 grey, and highte Scot.
A long surcote of pers21 up-on he hade,
And by his syde he bar a rusty blade.
Of Northfolk was this reve, of which I telle,
Bisyde a toun men clepen Baldeswelle.620
Tukked22 he was, as is a frere, aboute,
And evere he rood the hindreste of our
route.

A SOMNOUR was ther with us in that place,

That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face,

Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes,

And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood.

635 Thanne wolde he speke, and crye as he were wood.

And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn,

Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn.
A fewe termes hadde he, two or three,
That he had lerned out of som decree; 640
No wonder is, he herde it al the day;
And eek ye knowen wel, how that a Iay
Can clepen "Watte,"23 as well as can the
pope.

But who-so coude in other thing him grope,

24

Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye;
Ay “Questio quid iuris" wolde he crye. 646
He was a gentil harlot 25 and a kynde;
A bettre felawe sholde men noght fynde.
He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn
A good felawe to have his [wikked sin] 650
A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fulle:
And prively a finch eek coude he pulle.
And if he fond owher26 a good felawe,
He wolde techen him to have non awe,

655

In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curs,
But-if1 a mannes soule were in his purs;
For in his purs he sholde y-punisshed be.
"Purs is the erchedeknes helle," seyde he.
But wel I woot he lyed right in dede;

Of cursing oghte ech gilty man him drede For curs wol slee, right as assoilling? saveth—

661

And also war him3 of a significavit.
In daunger hadde he at his owne gyse
The yonge girles of the diocyse,

And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed.7 665

A gerland hadde he set up-on his heed,
As greet as it were for an ale-stake;
A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake.

With him ther rood a gentil PARDONER Of Rouncival, his freend and his compeer, That streight was comen fro the court of Rome. 671

Ful loude he song, "Com hider, love, to me."

This somnour bar to him a stif burdoun, Was never trompe of half so greet a soun. This pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex, But smothe it heng, as doth a strikes of flex; 676 By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde, And ther-with he his shuldres over

But hood, for Iolitee, ne wered he noon,680
For it was trussed up in his walet.
Him thoughte," he rood al of the newe
Iet;12

Dischevele, save his cappe, he rood al bare.
Swiche glaringe eyen hadde he as an hare.
A vernicle hadde he sowed on his cappe.685
His walet lay biforn him in his lappe,
Bret-ful13 of pardoun come from Rome al
hoot.

A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot.
No berd hadde he, ne never sholde have,
As smothe it was as it were late
y-shave;

690

Why that assembled was this companye
In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelrye,
That highte the Tabard, faste by the
Belle.

720

But now is tyme to yow for to telle
How that we baren us that ilke night,
Whan we were in that hostelrye alight.
And after wol I telle of our viage,
And al the remenaunt of our pilgrimage.
But first I pray yow, of your curteisye, 725
That ye narette25 it nat my vileinye,
Thogh that I pleynly speke in this matere,
To telle yow hir wordes and hir chere,26
Ne thogh I speke hir wordes properly.27
For this ye knowen al-so wel as I,
Who-so shal telle a tale after a man,
He moot reherce, as ny as ever he can,
Everich a28 word, if it be in his charge,
Al speke he29 never so rudeliche and large;30
Or elles he moot telle his tale untrewe, 735
Or feyne thing, or fynde wordes newe.
He may nat spare, al-thogh he were his
brother;

He moot as wel seye o word as another.

730

24 the estate. 26 behavior.

23 every.

20 freely.

740

Eek Plato seith, who-so that can him rede,
The wordes mote be cosin to the dede.
Also I prey yow to foryeve it me,
Al have I nat set folk in hir degree1
Here in this tale, as that they sholde
stonde;

745

8

And of a mirthe, I am right now bithoght,
To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.
Ye goon to Caunterbury; God yow
spede,

The blisful martir quyte yow your mede.9
And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye,771
Ye shapen yow to talen10 and to pleye;
For trewely, confort ne mirthe is noon
To ryde by the weye doumb as a stoon;
And therfore wol I maken yow disport, 775
As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort.
And if yow lyketh alle, by oon assent,
Now for to stonden at my Iugement,
And for to werken as I shal yow seye,
To-morwe, whan ye ryden by the weye,780
Now, by my fader soule, that is deed,
But ye be merye, I wol yeve yow myn
heed.

785

12

And graunted him with-outen more avys, And bad him seye his verdit, as him leste. "Lordinges," quod he, "now herkneth

for the beste;

But tak it not, I prey yow, in desdeyn; This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn, That ech of yow, to shorte with your weye, 13

790

In this viage, shal telle tales tweye,
To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so,
And hom-ward he shal tellen othere two,
Of aventures that whylom14 han bifalle. 795
And which of yow that bereth him best of
alle,

That is to seyn, that telleth in this cas
Tales of best sentence115 and most solas, 16
Shal han a soper at our aller cost17
Here in this place, sitting by this post, 800
Whan that we come agayn fro Caunter-
bury.

And for to make yow the more mery,
I wol my-selven gladly with yow ryde,
Right at myn owne cost, and be your gyde.
And who-so wol my Iugement withseye 805
Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye.
And if ye vouche-sauf that it be so,
Tel me anon, with-outen wordes mo,
And I wol erly shape me18 therfore."

This thing was graunted, and our othes

815

19

With ful glad herte, and preyden him also
That he wold vouche-sauf for to do so,
And that he wolde been our governour,
And of our tales Iuge and reportour,
And sette a soper at a certeyn prys;
And we wold reuled been at his devys,'
In heigh and lowe; and thus, by oon assent,
We been acorded to his Iugement.
And ther-up-on the wyn was fet20 anon;
We dronken, and to reste wente echon, 820
With-outen any lenger taryinge.

A-morwe, whan that day bigan to springe,

Up roos our host, and was our aller cok,2 And gadrede us togidre, alle in a flok,

21

THE NUN'S PRIEST'S TALE Here biginneth the Nonne Preestes Tale of the Cok and Hen, Chauntecleer and Pertelote.

A povre widwe somdel stope17 in age, Was whylom dwelling in a narwe cotage, Bisyde a grove, stondyng in a dale. This widwe, of which I telle yow my tale, Sin thilke 18 day that she was last a wyf, In pacience ladde a ful simple lyf, For litel was hir catel19 and hir rente;20 By housbondrye, of such as God hir sente, She fond21 hir-self, and eek hir doghtren

two.

5

For whan degrees fiftene were ascended, Thanne crew he, that it mighte nat ben amended.1

2

40

His comb was redder than the fyn coral,
And batailed, as it were a castel-wal.
His bile3 was blak, and as the Ieet1 it
shoon;

Lyk asur were his legges, and his toon;5
His nayles whytter than the lilie flour,
And lyk the burned gold was his colour.
This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce 45
Sevene hennes, for to doon al his plesaunce,
Whiche were his sustres and his para-
mours,

And wonder lyk to him, as of colours.
Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir
throte

Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote. 50 Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire, And compaignable, and bar hirself so faire,

Syn thilke day that she was seven night old,

55

That trewely she hath the herte in hold"
Of Chauntecleer loken in every lith;9
He loved hir so, that wel was him ther-
with.

But such a Ioye was it to here hem singe, Whan that the brighte sonne gan to springe,

In swete accord, "My lief is faren10 in londe."

For thilke tyme, as I have understonde, 60 Bestes and briddes coude speke and singe.

And so bifel, that in a daweninge,11 As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle Sat on his perche, that was in the halle, And next him sat this faire Pertelote, This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte, As man that in his dreem is drecched12

sore.

65

91

17

Allas!" quod she, "for, by that god above,
Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love;
I can nat love a coward, by my feith.
For certes, what so any womman seith,
We alle desyren, if it might be,
To han housbondes hardy, wyse, and free,17
And secree, and no nigard, ne no fool,
Ne him that is agast of every tool, 18
Ne noon avauntour,19 by that god above!
How dorste ye seyn for shame unto your
love,

95

Swevenes engendren of20 replecciouns,
And ofte of fume,21 and of complecciouns,22
Whan humours been to habundant in a
wight.

105

Certes this dreem, which ye han met tonight,

Cometh of the grete superfluitee
Of youre rede23 colera,24 pardee,
Which causeth folk to dreden in here

dremes

Of arwes,25 and of fyr with rede lemes,26 110 Of grete bestes, that they wol hem byte, Of contek, 27 and of whelpes grete and lyte;