Canterbury Tales and Other Poems - Geoffrey Chaucer (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📗

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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<4>

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,<5>

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.<6>

The silly tongue well may ring and chime Of wretchedness, that passed is full yore*: *long With olde folk, save dotage, is no more. <7>

 

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 <8>

Say forth thy tale, and tarry not the time: **surgeon <9>

Lo here is Deptford, and ‘tis half past prime:<10>

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 <11>

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.”<12>

 

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.<1>

 

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 <2>

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 <3>

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.

 

One daughter hadde they betwixt them two Of twenty year, withouten any mo,

Saving a child that was of half year age, In cradle it lay, and was a proper page. boy This wenche thick and well y-growen was, With camuse* nose, and eyen gray as glass; *flat With buttocks broad, and breastes round and high; But right fair was her hair, I will not lie.

The parson of the town, for she was fair, In purpose was to make of her his heir Both of his chattels and his messuage, And *strange he made it* of her marriage. he made it a matter His purpose was for to bestow her high of difficulty

Into some worthy blood of ancestry.

For holy Church’s good may be dispended spent On holy Church’s blood that is descended.

Therefore he would his holy blood honour Though that he holy Churche should devour.

 

Great soken* hath this miller, out of doubt, toll taken for grinding With wheat and malt, of all the land about; And namely there was a great college *especially Men call the Soler Hall at Cantebrege,<4>

There was their wheat and eke their malt y-ground.

And on a day it happed in a stound, suddenly Sick lay the manciple* of a malady, *steward <5>

Men *weened wisly* that he shoulde die. thought certainly

For which this miller stole both meal and corn An hundred times more than beforn.

For theretofore he stole but courteously, But now he was a thief outrageously.

For which the warden chid and made fare, fuss But thereof *set the miller not a tare*; he cared not a rush

He crack’d his boast, and swore it was not so. talked big

 

Then were there younge poore scholars two, That dwelled in the hall of which I say; Testif* they were, and lusty for to play; *headstrong <6>

And only for their mirth and revelry

Upon the warden busily they cry,

To give them leave for but a *little stound, short time*

To go to mill, and see their corn y-ground: And hardily* they durste lay their neck, *boldly The miller should not steal them half a peck Of corn by sleight, nor them by force bereave take away And at the last the warden give them leave: John hight the one, and Alein hight the other, Of one town were they born, that highte Strother,<7>

Far in the North, I cannot tell you where.

This Alein he made ready all his gear, And on a horse the sack he cast anon:

Forth went Alein the clerk, and also John, With good sword and with buckler by their side.

John knew the way, him needed not no guide, And at the mill the sack adown he lay’th.

 

Alein spake first; “All hail, Simon, in faith, How fares thy faire daughter, and thy wife.”

“Alein, welcome,” quoth Simkin, “by my life, And John also: how now, what do ye here?”

“By God, Simon,” quoth John, “need has no peer*. *equal Him serve himself behoves that has no swain, servant Or else he is a fool, as clerkes sayn.

Our manciple I hope* he will be dead, expect So workes aye the wanges in his head: *cheek-teeth <8>

And therefore is I come, and eke Alein, To grind our corn and carry it home again: I pray you speed us hence as well ye may.”

“It shall be done,” quoth Simkin, “by my fay.

What will ye do while that it is in hand?”

“By God, right by the hopper will I stand,”

Quoth John, “and see how that the corn goes in.

Yet saw I never, by my father’s kin,

How that the hopper wagges to and fro.”

Alein answered, “John, and wilt thou so?

Then will I be beneathe, by my crown,

And see how that the meale falls adown Into the trough, that shall be my disport*: *amusement For, John, in faith I may be of your sort; I is as ill a miller as is ye.”

 

This miller smiled at their nicety, simplicity And thought, “All this is done but for a wile.

They weenen* that no man may them beguile, *think But by my thrift yet shall I blear their eye,<9>

For all the sleight in their philosophy.

The more *quainte knackes* that they make, odd little tricks

The more will I steal when that I take.

Instead of flour yet will I give them bren*. *bran The greatest clerks are not the wisest men, As whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare: <10>

Of all their art ne count I not a tare.”

Out at the door he went full privily,

When that he saw his time, softely.

He looked up and down, until he found

The clerkes’ horse, there as he stood y-bound Behind the mill, under a levesell: arbour<11>

And to the horse he went him fair and well, And stripped off the bridle right anon.

And when the horse was loose, he gan to gon Toward the fen, where wilde mares run, Forth, with “Wehee!” through thick and eke through thin.