And eek ye knowen wel, how that a lay Can clepen 'Watte,'1 as well as can the pope. But who-so coude in other thing him grope2, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophye; Ay Questio quid iuris's wolde he crye. He was a gentil harlot 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] A twelf-month, and excuse him atte fulle: And prively a finch eek coude he pulles. And if he fond owher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have non awe, In swich cas, of the erchedeknes curss, But-if a mannes soule were in his purs10; 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; 659 Of cursing oghte ech gulty man him drede11- For curs wol slee right as assoilling12 saveth- And also war him of a significavit 13.
In daunger14 hadde he at his owne gyse15 The yonge girles16 of the diocyse, And knew hir counseil, and was al hir reed17. A gerland hadde he set up-on his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake18; A bokeler hadde he maad him of a cake.
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But of his craft, fro Berwik unto Ware30, 650 Ne was ther swich another pardoner. For in his male31 he hadde a pilwe-beer32, Which that, he seyde, was our lady veyl33: He seyde, he hadde a gobet34 of the sey135 That seynt Peter hadde, whan that he wente Up-on the see, til Iesu Crist him hente36, He hadde a croys37 of latoun3s, ful of stones, And in a glas he hadde pigges bones. But with thise relikes, whan that he fond A povre person dwelling up-on lond39, Up-on a day he gat him more moneye Than that the person gat in monthes tweye. And thus with feyned flaterye and Iapesto, He made the person and the peple his apes. But trewely to tellen, atte laste,
With him ther rood a gentil Pardoner Of Rouncivale19, his frend and his compeer, 670 That streight was comen fro the court of Rome. Ful loude he song, ‘Com hider, love, to me.' This somnour bar to him a stif burdoun20, Was nevere trompe21 of half so greet a soun. This pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex, But smothe it heng, as doth a strike of flex22; By ounces 23 henge his lokkes that he hadde24, And ther-with he his shuldres overspradde; But thinne it lay, by colpons25 oon and oon; But hood, for Iolitee, ne wered he noon, For it was trussed up in his walet. IIim thoughte26, he rood al of the newe Iet27; Dischevele, save his cappe, he rood al bare. Swiche glaringe eyen hadde he as an hare.
himself
12 absolution
13 writ of excommuni
He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste. Wel coude he rede a lessoun or a storie, But alderbest41 he song an offertorie; For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe, He moste preche, and wel affyle42 his tonge, To winne silver, as he ful wel coude; Therefore he song so meriely and loude.
Now have I told you shortly, in a clause, Thestat, tharray, the nombre, and eek the cause Why that assembled was this compaignye In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelrye, That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle. 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, That ye narette it nat my vileinye43,
Thogh that I pleynly speke in this matere, To telle yow hir wordes and hir chere++ ; Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely45. For this ye knowen al-so wel as I,
Who-so shal telle a tale after a man,
40 tricks
41 best of all
42 file, polish
43 attribute it not to
my ill-breeding
He moot reherce, as ny1 as evere he can, Everich a word, if it be in his charge3, Al4 speke he never so rudeliche and large; Or elles he moot telle his tale untrewe, 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. Crist spak him-self ful brode in holy writ, And wel ye woot, no vileinye is it. Fek Plato seith, who-so that can him redes, The wordes moter be cosin to the dede. Also I prey yow to foryeve it me, Als have I nat set folk in hir degree Here in this tale, as that they sholde stonde; My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.
As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. And if yow lyketh alle, by oon assent, Now for to stonden at26 my Iugement, And for to werken as I shal yow seye, To-morwe, whan ye ryden by the weye, Now, by my fader soule, that is deed, But27 ye be merye, I wol yeve yow myn heed. Hold up your hond, withoute more speche.'
740 Our counseil was nat longe for to seche28;
Greet chere made our hoste us everichon10, And to the soper sette he us anon; And served us with vitaille at the beste.
Strong was the wyn, and wel to drinke us leste11.
A semely man our hoste was with-alle For to han been a marshal in an halle; A large man he was with eyen stepe12,
A fairer burgeys13 was ther noon in Chepe14: Bold of his speche, and wys, and wel y-taught, And of manhod him lakkede right naught.
Fek therto he was right a mery man,
And after soper pleyen15 he bigan,
And spak of mirthe amonges othere thinges,
Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys29,
And graunted him with-outen more avys30, 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 our weye31, 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 whylom han bifalle. And which of yow that bereth him best of alle
That is to seyn, that telleth in this cas Tales of best sentence and most solas32, Shal han a soper at our aller cost
Whan that we hadde maad our rekeninges16; 760 I wol my-selven gladly with yow ryde,
And seyde thus: 'Now, lordinges, trewely
Ye ben to me right welcome hertely:
For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I ne saugh17 this yeer so mery a compaignye At ones in this herberwe18 as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow mirthe, wiste I how19. And of a mirthe I am right now bithoght, To doon yow ese20, and it shal coste noght.
Ye goon to Caunterbury; God yow spede, 769 The blisful martir21 quyte22 yow your mede23. And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye, Ye shapen24 yow to talen25 and to pleye; For trewely, confort ne mirthe is noon To ryde by the weye doumb as a stoon; And therefor wol I maken yow disport,
Right at myn owne cost, and be your gyde.. And who-so wol my Iugement withseyезз 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 shape34 me therfore.'
This thing was graunted, and our othes
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 luge and reporteur, And sette a soper at a certeyn prys; And we wold reuled been at his devys35, In heigh and lowe; and thus, by oon assent, We been acorded to his Iugement.
And ther-up-on the wyn was fet36 anoon; We dronken, and to reste wente echoon, With-outen any lenger taryinge. A-morwe, whan that37 day bigan to springe, Up roos our host, and was our aller cokas,
And there our host bigan his hors areste, And seyde; 'Lordinges, herkneth if yow leste. Ye woot your forwards, and I it yow recorde. If even-song and morwe-song acorde, Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale. As evere mote I drinke wyn or ale, Who-so be rebel to my lugement
Shal paye for al that by the weye is spent. Now draweth cut5, er that we ferrers
Ne studieth noght10; ley hond to, every man.' Anon to drawen every wight bigan, And shortly for to tellen, as it was, Were it by aventure11, or sort12, or cas13, The sothe14 is this, the cut fil to the knight, Of which ful blythe and glad was every wight; And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun, By forward and by composicioun 15,
As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo? And whan this goode man saugh it was so, As he that wys was and obedient To kepe his forward by his free assent, He seyde: 'Sin16 I shal beginne the game, What, welcome be the cut, a17 Goddes name! Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye.'
Ful sooty was hir bour, and eek hir halle27, In which she eet ful many a sclendre meel. Of poynaunt sauce hir neded28 never a deel. No deyntee morsel passed thurgh hir throte; Hir dyete was accordant to hir cote. Repleccioun29 ne made hir nevere syk; Attempree dyete was al hir phisyk, And exercyse, and hertes suffisaunce. The goute lette30 hir no-thing for to daunce, 20 Ne poplexye shente31 nat hir heed; No wyn ne drank she, neither whyt ne reed; Hir bord was served most with whyt and blak, Milk and broun breed, in which she fond no lak,
Seynd32 bacoun, and somtyme an ey33 or tweye,
For she was as it were a maner deye34.
A yerd she hadde, enclosed al aboute With stikkes, and a drye dich with-oute, In which she hadde a cok, hight Chauntecleer, In al the land of crowing nas35 his peer. His vois was merier than the merye orgon36
851 On messe-dayes37 that in the chirche gon; Wel sikerer3s was his crowing in his logge39, Than is a clokke, or an abbey orlogge40. By nature knew he ech ascensioun41 Of equinoxial in thilke toun; For whan degrees fiftene were ascended, Thanne crew he, that it mighte nat ben
And with that word we riden forth our weye; And he bigan with right a mery chere18 His tale anon, and seyde in this manere.
THE NONNE PREESTES TALE*
Here biginneth the Nonne Preestes Tale of the His bile++ was blak, and as the leet45 it shoon;
Cok and Hen, Chauntecleer and Pertelote.
A povre widwe somdel stope19 in age,
Was whylom20 dwelling in a narwe21 cotage, Bisyde a grove, stondyng in a dale.
This widwe, of which I telle yow my tale,
Lyk asur were his legges, and his toon46; His nayles whytter than the lilie flour,
22 since that
23 her property (chat
tels) and her in
24 supported
25 daughters
26 was called
27 Bower and hall are
terms applicable to a castle; used here humorously of the probably one-room cottage.
28 (reflexive) she need
35 was not
36 organs
37 mass-days
38 surer
39 lodging
40 horologe
41 he knew the time every hour of the day (for 15° of the equinoctial are passed each hour of the twenty-four)
42 so that it couldn't be improved upon
And lyk the burned gold was his colour. This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce Sevene hennes, for to doon all his plesaunce, Whiche were his sustres and his paramours, And wonder lyk to him, as of colours. Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir throte Was clepeds faire damoysele Pertelote. Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire, And compaignable, and bar hir-self so faire, Sin thilke day that she was seven night old, That trewely she hath the herte in hold Of Chauntecleer loken in every lith5, He loved hir so, that wel him was therwith. But such a Ioye was it to here hem singe, Whan that the brighte sonne gan to springe, In swete accord, 'my lief is faren in londes.' For thilke tyme, as I have understonde, Bestes and briddes coude speke and singe.
We alle desyren, if it mightę be, To han housbondes hardy, wyse, and free16,. And secree17, and no nigard, ne no fool, Ne him that is agast of every tool18, Ne noon avauntour19, by that God above! How dorste ye sayn for shame unto youre love,
50 That any thing mighte make yow aferd? Have ye no mannes herte, and han a berd? 100 Allas! and conne ye been agast of swevenis? No-thing, God wot, but vanitee, in sweven is. Swevenes engendren of replecciouns, And ofte of fume, and of complecciouns20, Whan humours21 been to22 habundant in a
Certes this dreem, which ye han met23 to-night, Cometh of the grete superfluitee
60 Of youre rede colera24, pardee, Which causeth folk to dremen in here25 dremes Of arwes26, and of fyr with rede lemes27, Of grete bestes, that they wol hem byte, Of contek2s, and of whelpes grete and lyte; Right as the humour of malencolye29 Causeth ful many a man, in sleep, to crye, For fere of blake beres, or boles30 blake, Or elles, blake develes wole him take. Of othere humours coude I telle also, That werken many a man in sleep ful wo; But I wol passe as lightly as I can.
And so bifel, that in a dawenynge, 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 dreccheds sore. And whan that Pertelote thus herde him rore, She was agast, and seyde, 'o herte deere, What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere? 70 Ye ben a verray sleper, fy for shame!' And he answerde and seyde thus, 'madame, I pray yow, that ye take it nat agrief: By God, me mette10 I was in swich meschief Right now, that yet myn herte is sore afright. Now God, quod he, 'my swevene11 rede12
And keep my body out of foul prisoun!
Me mette, how that I romed up and doun Withinne our yerde, wher as I saugh a beste, Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad 80 Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed. His colour was bitwixe yelwe and reed; And tipped was his tail, and bothe his eres With blak, unlyk the remenant of his heres; His snowte smal, with glowinge eyen tweye. Yet of his look for fere almost I deye; This caused me my groning, douteles.'
'Avoy14!' quod she, 'fy on yow, herteles15! Allas!' quod she, 'for, by that God above, Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love; 90 I can nat love a coward, by my feith. For certes, what so any womman seith,
Lo Catoun31, which that was so wys a man, Seyde he nat thus, ne do no fors32 of dremes? Now, sire,' quod she, 'whan we flee fro the
And if it do, I dar wel leye a grote1, That ye shul have a fevere terciane, Or an agu, that may be youre bane. A day or two ye shul have digestyves Of wormes, er ye take your laxatyves, Of lauriol, centaure, and fumeteres,
Or elles of ellebort, that groweth there, Of catapuces, or of gaytres beryis,
This night I shal be mordred ther19 I lye. Now help me, dere brother, or I dye; 140 In alle haste com to me,' he sayde..
Of erbe yve, growing in our yerd, that mery is; Pekke hem up right as they growe, and ete
Be mery, housbond, for your fader kyn! Dredeth no dreem; I can say yow namore.'
'Madame,' quod he, 'graunt mercy of your lore.
But natheles, as touching dauns Catoun, That hath of wisdom such a gret renoun, Though that he bad no dremes for to drede, By God, men may in olde bokes rede Of many a man, more of auctoritee Than evere Catoun was, so moot I thee, That al the revers10 seyn of this sentence11, And han wel founden by experience, That dremes ben significaciouns, As wel of Ioye as tribulaciouns That folk enduren in this lyf present. Ther nedeth make of this noon argument; The verray preve12 sheweth it in dede. Oon of the gretteste auctours that men rede13 Seith thus, that whylom two felawes wente On pilgrimage, in a ful good entente; And happed so, thay come into a toun, Wher as ther was swich congregacioun Of peple, and eek so streit1 of herbergage15, That they ne founde as muche as o cotage, 170 In which they bothe mighte y-logged be. Wherfor thay mosten, of necessitee, As for that night, departen compaignye; And ech of hem goth to his hostelrye, And took his logging as it wolde falle. That oon of hem was logged in a stalle, Fer16 in a yerd, with oxen of the plough; That other man was logged wel y-nough, As was his aventure17, or his fortune, That us governeth alle as in commune18. And so bifel, that, long er it were day, This man mette in his bed, ther as he lay, How that his felawe gan up-on him calle, And seyde, 'allas! for in an oxes stalle
This man out of his sleep for fere abrayde20; But whan that he was wakned of his sleep, He turned him, and took of this no keep21, 196 Him thoughte22 his dreem nas but a vanitee. Thus twyes in his sleping dremed he. And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe
Com, as him thoughte, and seide, 'I am now slawe23;
Bihold my bloody woundes, depe and wyde! Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde24, And at the west gate of the toun,' quod he, 'A carte ful of donge ther shaltow see, In which my body is hid ful prively; Do thilke carte arresten 25 boldely. My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn;' And tolde him every poynt how he was slayn,
With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe.
And truste wel, his dreem he fond ful trewe;
For on the morwe, as sone as it was day, To his felawes in he took the way;
And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle,
160 After his felawe he bigan to calle. The hostiler answerde him anon, And seyde, 'sire, your felawe is agon, As sone as day he wente out of the toun.' This man gan fallen in suspecioun, Remembring on his dremes that he mette, And forth he goth, no lenger wolde he lette26, Unto the west gate of the toun, and fond A dong-carte, as it were to donge lond, That was arrayed in that same wyse As ye han herd the dede man devyse27; And with an hardy herte he gan to crye Vengeaunce and Iustice of this felonye: - 220 'My felawe mordred is this same night, And in this carte he lyth gapinge upright. I crye out on the ministres28,' quod he, 'That sholden kepe and reulen this citee; Harrow! allas! her lyth my felawe slayn!' What sholde I more un-to this tale sayn? The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grounde,
And in the middel of the dong they founde The dede man, that mordred was al newe. 229
O blisful God, that art so Iust and trewe! Lo, how that thou biwreyest29 mordre alway! Mordre wol out, that se we day by day. Mordre is so wlatsom30 and abhominable To God, that is so Iust and resonable,
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