Miller

THE MILLER'S PROLOGUE.

Here folwen the wordes bitwene the Host and the Millere.

Whan that the Knight had thus his tale y-told,In al the route nas ther yong ne old 3110That he ne seyde it was a noble storie,And worthy for to drawen to memorie;And namely the gentils everichoon.Our Hoste lough and swoor, 'so moot I goon,This gooth aright; unbokeled is the male; 3115Lat see now who shal telle another tale:For trewely, the game is wel bigonne.Now telleth ye, sir Monk, if that ye conne, (10)Sumwhat, to quyte with the Knightes tale.'The Miller, that for-dronken was al pale, 3120So that unnethe up-on his hors he sat,He nolde avalen neither hood ne hat,Ne abyde no man for his curteisye,But in Pilates vois he gan to crye,And swoor by armes and by blood and bones, 3125'I can a noble tale for the nones,With which I wol now quyte the Knightes tale.'

Our Hoste saugh that he was dronke of ale, (20)And seyde: 'abyd, Robin, my leve brother,Som bettre man shal telle us first another: 3130Abyd, and lat us werken thriftily.'

'By goddes soul,' quod he, 'that wol nat I;For I wol speke, or elles go my wey.'Our Hoste answerde: 'tel on, a devel wey!Thou art a fool, thy wit is overcome.' 3135

'Now herkneth,' quod the Miller, 'alle and some!But first I make a protestaciounThat I am dronke, I knowe it by my soun; (30)And therfore, if that I misspeke or seye,Wyte it the ale of Southwerk, I yow preye; 3140For I wol telle a legende and a lyfBothe of a Carpenter, and of his wyf,How that a clerk hath set the wrightes cappe.'

The Reve answerde and seyde, 'stint thy clappe,Lat be thy lewed dronken harlotrye. 3145It is a sinne and eek a greet folyeTo apeiren any man, or him diffame,And eek to bringen wyves in swich fame. (40)Thou mayst y-nogh of othere thinges seyn.'

This dronken Miller spak ful sone ageyn, 3150And seyde, 'leve brother Osewold,Who hath no wyf, he is no cokewold.But I sey nat therfore that thou art oon;Ther been ful gode wyves many oon, 3154And ever a thousand gode ayeyns oon badde, [T. om.That knowestow wel thy-self, but-if thou madde. [T. om.Why artow angry with my tale now?I have a wyf, pardee, as well as thou, (50)Yet nolde I, for the oxen in my plogh,Taken up-on me more than y-nogh, 3160As demen of my-self that I were oon;I wol beleve wel that I am noon.An housbond shal nat been inquisitifOf goddes privetee, nor of his wyf.So he may finde goddes foyson there, 3165Of the remenant nedeth nat enquere.'

What sholde I more seyn, but this MillereHe nolde his wordes for no man forbere, (60)But tolde his cherles tale in his manere;Me thinketh that I shal reherce it here. 3170And ther-fore every gentil wight I preye,For goddes love, demeth nat that I seyeOf evel entente, but that I moot reherceHir tales alle, be they bettre or werse,Or elles falsen som of my matere. 3175And therfore, who-so list it nat y-here,Turne over the leef, and chese another tale;For he shal finde y-nowe, grete and smale, (70)Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse,And eek moralitee and holinesse; 3180Blameth nat me if that ye chese amis.The Miller is a cherl, ye knowe wel this;So was the Reve, and othere many mo,And harlotrye they tolden bothe two.Avyseth yow and putte me out of blame; 3185And eek men shal nat make ernest of game.

Here endeth the prologe.

THE MILLERES TALE.

Here biginneth the Millere his tale.

Whylom ther was dwellinge at OxenfordA riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord,And of his craft he was a Carpenter.With him ther was dwellinge a povre scoler, 3190Had lerned art, but al his fantasyeWas turned for to lerne astrologye,And coude a certeyn of conclusiounsTo demen by interrogaciouns,If that men axed him in certein houres, 3195Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures, (10)Or if men axed him what sholde bifalleOf every thing, I may nat rekene hem alle.

This clerk was cleped hende Nicholas;Of derne love he coude and of solas; 3200And ther-to be was sleigh and ful privee,And lyk a mayden meke for to see.A chambre hadde he in that hostelryeAllone, with-outen any companye,Ful fetisly y-dight with herbes swote; 3205And he him-self as swete as is the rote (20)Of licorys, or any cetewale.His Almageste and bokes grete and smale,His astrelabie, longinge for his art,His augrim-stones layen faire a-part 3210On shelves couched at his beddes heed:His presse y-covered with a falding reed.And al above ther lay a gay sautrye,On which he made a nightes melodyeSo swetely, that al the chambre rong; 3215And Angelus ad virginem he song; (30)And after that he song the kinges note;Ful often blessed was his mery throte.And thus this swete clerk his tyme spenteAfter his freendes finding and his rente. 3220

This Carpenter had wedded newe a wyfWhich that he lovede more than his lyf;Of eightetene yeer she was of age.Ialous he was, and heeld hir narwe in cage,For she was wilde and yong, and he was old 3225And demed him-self ben lyk a cokewold. (40)He knew nat Catoun, for his wit was rude,That bad man sholde wedde his similitude.Men sholde wedden after hir estaat,For youthe and elde is often at debaat. 3230But sith that he was fallen in the snare,He moste endure, as other folk, his care.

Fair was this yonge wyf, and ther-with-alAs any wesele hir body gent and smal.A ceynt she werede barred al of silk, 3235A barmclooth eek as whyt as morne milk (50)Up-on hir lendes, ful of many a gore.Whyt was hir smok, and brouded al biforeAnd eek bihinde, on hir coler aboute,Of col-blak silk, with-inne and eek with-oute. 3240The tapes of hir whyte voluperWere of the same suyte of hir coler;Hir filet brood of silk, and set ful hye:And sikerly she hadde a likerous yë.Ful smale y-pulled were hir browes two, 3245And tho were bent, and blake as any sloo. (60)She was ful more blisful on to seeThan is the newe pere-ionette tree;And softer than the wolle is of a wether.And by hir girdel heeng a purs of lether 3250Tasseld with silk, and perled with latoun.In al this world, to seken up and doun,There nis no man so wys, that coude thencheSo gay a popelote, or swich a wenche.Ful brighter was the shyning of hir hewe 3255Than in the tour the noble y-forged newe. (70)But of hir song, it was as loude and yerneAs any swalwe sittinge on a berne.Ther-to she coude skippe and make game,As any kide or calf folwinge his dame. 3260Hir mouth was swete as bragot or the meeth,Or hord of apples leyd in hey or heeth.Winsinge she was, as is a Ioly colt,Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt.A brooch she baar up-on hir lowe coler, 3265As brood as is the bos of a bocler. (80)Hir shoes were laced on hir legges hye;She was a prymerole, a pigges-nyeFor any lord to leggen in his bedde,Or yet for any good yeman to wedde. 3270

Now sire, and eft sire, so bifel the cas,That on a day this hende NicholasFil with this yonge wyf to rage and pleye,Whyl that hir housbond was at Oseneye,As clerkes ben ful subtile and ful queynte; 3275And prively he caughte hir by the queynte, (90)And seyde, 'y-wis, but if ich have my wille,For derne love of thee, lemman, I spille.'And heeld hir harde by the haunche-bones,And seyde, 'lemman, love me al at-ones, 3280Or I wol dyen, also god me save!'And she sprong as a colt doth in the trave,And with hir heed she wryed faste awey,And seyde, 'I wol nat kisse thee, by my fey,Why, lat be,' quod she, 'lat be, Nicholas, 3285Or I wol crye out "harrow" and "allas." (100)Do wey your handes for your curteisye!'

This Nicholas gan mercy for to crye,And spak so faire, and profred hir so faste,That she hir love him graunted atte laste, 3290And swoor hir ooth, by seint Thomas of Kent,That she wol been at his comandement,Whan that she may hir leyser wel espye.'Myn housbond is so ful of Ialousye,That but ye wayte wel and been privee, 3295I woot right wel I nam but deed,' quod she. (110)'Ye moste been ful derne, as in this cas.'

'Nay ther-of care thee noght,' quod Nicholas,'A clerk had litherly biset his whyle,But-if he coude a Carpenter bigyle.' 3300And thus they been acorded and y-swornTo wayte a tyme, as I have told biforn.Whan Nicholas had doon thus everydeel,And thakked hir aboute the lendes weel,He kist hir swete, and taketh his sautrye, 3305And pleyeth faste, and maketh melodye. (120)

Than fil it thus, that to the parish-chirche,Cristes owne werkes for to wirche,This gode wyf wente on an haliday;Hir forheed shoon as bright as any day, 3310So was it wasshen whan she leet hir werk.

Now was ther of that chirche a parish-clerk,The which that was y-cleped Absolon.Crul was his heer, and as the gold it shoon,And strouted as a fanne large and brode; 3315Ful streight and even lay his Ioly shode. (130)His rode was reed, his eyen greye as goos;With Powles window corven on his shoos,In hoses rede he wente fetisly.Y-clad he was ful smal and proprely, 3320Al in a kirtel of a light wachet;Ful faire and thikke been the poyntes set.And ther-up-on he hadde a gay surplysAs whyt as is the blosme up-on the rys.A mery child he was, so god me save, 3325Wel coude he laten blood and clippe and shave, (140)And make a chartre of lond or acquitaunce.In twenty manere coude he trippe and daunceAfter the scole of Oxenforde tho,And with his legges casten to and fro, 3330And pleyen songes on a small rubible;Ther-to he song som-tyme a loud quinible;And as wel coude he pleye on his giterne.In al the toun nas brewhous ne taverneThat he ne visited with his solas, 3335Ther any gaylard tappestere was. (150)But sooth to seyn, he was somdel squaymousOf farting, and of speche daungerous.

This Absolon, that Iolif was and gay,Gooth with a sencer on the haliday, 3340Sensinge the wyves of the parish faste;And many a lovely look on hem he caste,And namely on this carpenteres wyf.To loke on hir him thoughte a mery lyf,She was so propre and swete and likerous. 3345I dar wel seyn, if she had been a mous, (160)And he a cat, he wolde hir hente anon.

This parish-clerk, this Ioly Absolon,Hath in his herte swich a love-longinge,That of no wyf ne took he noon offringe; 3350For curteisye, he seyde, he wolde noon.The mone, whan it was night, ful brighte shoon,And Absolon his giterne hath y-take,For paramours, he thoghte for to wake.And forth he gooth, Iolif and amorous, 3353Til he cam to the carpenteres hous (170)A litel after cokkes hadde y-crowe;And dressed him up by a shot-windoweThat was up-on the carpenteres wal.He singeth in his vois gentil and smal, 3360'Now, dere lady, if thy wille be,I preye yow that ye wol rewe on me,'Ful wel acordaunt to his giterninge.This carpenter awook, and herde him singe,And spak un-to his wyf, and seyde anon, 3365'What! Alison! herestow nat Absolon (180)That chaunteth thus under our boures wal?'And she answerde hir housbond ther-with-al,'Yis, god wot, Iohn, I here it every-del.'

This passeth forth; what wol ye bet than wel? 3370Fro day to day this Ioly AbsolonSo woweth hir, that him is wo bigon.He waketh al the night and al the day;He kempte hise lokkes brode, and made him gay;He woweth hir by menes and brocage, 3375And swoor he wolde been hir owne page; (190)He singeth, brokkinge as a nightingale;He sente hir piment, meeth, and spyced ale,And wafres, pyping hote out of the glede;And for she was of toune, he profred mede. 3380For som folk wol ben wonnen for richesse,And som for strokes, and som for gentillesse.

Somtyme, to shewe his lightnesse and maistrye,He pleyeth Herodes on a scaffold hye.But what availleth him as in this cas? 3385She loveth so this hende Nicholas, (200)That Absolon may blowe the bukkes horn;He ne hadde for his labour but a scorn;And thus she maketh Absolon hir ape,And al his ernest turneth til a Iape. 3390Ful sooth is this proverbe, it is no lye,Men seyn right thus, 'alwey the nye slyeMaketh the ferre leve to be looth.'For though that Absolon be wood or wrooth,By-cause that he fer was from hir sighte, 3395This nye Nicholas stood in his lighte. (210)

Now bere thee wel, thou hende Nicholas!For Absolon may waille and singe 'allas.'And so bifel it on a Saterday,This carpenter was goon til Osenay; 3400And hende Nicholas and AlisounAcorded been to this conclusioun,That Nicholas shal shapen him a wyleThis sely Ialous housbond to bigyle;And if so be the game wente aright, 3405She sholde slepen in his arm al night, (220)For this was his desyr and hir also.And right anon, with-outen wordes mo,This Nicholas no lenger wolde tarie,But doth ful softe un-to his chambre carie 3410Bothe mete and drinke for a day or tweye,And to hir housbonde bad hir for to seye,If that he axed after Nicholas,She sholde seye she niste where he was,Of al that day she saugh him nat with yë; 3415She trowed that he was in maladye, (230)For, for no cry, hir mayde coude him calle;He nolde answere, for no-thing that mighte falle.

This passeth forth al thilke Saterday,That Nicholas stille in his chambre lay, 3420And eet and sleep, or dide what him leste,Til Sonday, that the sonne gooth to reste.

This sely carpenter hath greet merveyleOf Nicholas, or what thing mighte him eyle,And seyde, 'I am adrad, by seint Thomas, 3425It stondeth nat aright with Nicholas. (240)God shilde that he deyde sodeynly!This world is now ful tikel, sikerly;I saugh to-day a cors y-born to chircheThat now, on Monday last, I saugh him wirche. 3430

Go up,' quod he un-to his knave anoon,'Clepe at his dore, or knokke with a stoon,Loke how it is, and tel me boldely.'

This knave gooth him up ful sturdily,And at the chambre-dore, whyl that he stood, 3435He cryde and knokked as that he were wood:— (250)'What! how! what do ye, maister Nicholay?How may ye slepen al the longe day?'

But al for noght, he herde nat a word;An hole he fond, ful lowe up-on a bord, 3440Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe;And at that hole he looked in ful depe,And at the laste he hadde of him a sighte.This Nicholas sat gaping ever up-righte,As he had kyked on the newe mone. 3445Adoun he gooth, and tolde his maister sone (260)In what array he saugh this ilke man.

This carpenter to blessen him bigan,And seyde, 'help us, seinte Frideswyde!A man woot litel what him shal bityde. 3450This man is falle, with his astromye,In som woodnesse or in som agonye;I thoghte ay wel how that it sholde be!Men sholde nat knowe of goddes privetee.Ye, blessed be alwey a lewed man, 3455That noght but oonly his bileve can! (270)So ferde another clerk with astromye;He walked in the feeldes for to pryeUp-on the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle,Til he was in a marle-pit y-falle; 3460He saugh nat that. But yet, by seint Thomas,Me reweth sore of hende Nicholas.He shal be rated of his studying,If that I may, by Iesus, hevene king!

Get me a staf, that I may underspore, 3465Whyl that thou, Robin, hevest up the dore. (280)He shal out of his studying, as I gesse'—And to the chambre-dore he gan him dresse.His knave was a strong carl for the nones,And by the haspe he haf it up atones; 3470In-to the floor the dore fil anon.This Nicholas sat ay as stille as stoon,And ever gaped upward in-to the eir.This carpenter wende he were in despeir,And hente him by the sholdres mightily, 3475And shook him harde, and cryde spitously, (290)'What! Nicholay! what, how! what! loke adoun!Awake, and thenk on Cristes passioun;I crouche thee from elves and fro wightes!'Ther-with the night-spel seyde he anon-rightes 3480On foure halves of the hous aboute,And on the threshfold of the dore with-oute:—'Iesu Crist, and seynt Benedight,Blesse this hous from every wikked wight,For nightes verye, the white pater-noster! 3485Where wentestow, seynt Petres soster?' (300)

And atte laste this hende NicholasGan for to syke sore, and seyde, 'allas!Shal al the world be lost eftsones now?'

This carpenter answerde, 'what seystow? 3490What! thenk on god, as we don, men that swinke.'

This Nicholas answerde, 'fecche me drinke;And after wol I speke in priveteeOf certeyn thing that toucheth me and thee;I wol telle it non other man, certeyn.' 3495

This carpenter goth doun, and comth ageyn, (310)And broghte of mighty ale a large quart;And whan that ech of hem had dronke his part,This Nicholas his dore faste shette,And doun the carpenter by him he sette. 3500

He seyde, 'Iohn, myn hoste lief and dere,Thou shall up-on thy trouthe swere me here,That to no wight thou shalt this conseil wreye;For it is Cristes conseil that I seye,And if thou telle it man, thou are forlore; 3505For this vengaunce thou shalt han therfore, (320)That if thou wreye me, thou shalt be wood!''Nay, Crist forbede it, for his holy blood!'Quod tho this sely man, 'I nam no labbe,Ne, though I seye, I nam nat lief to gabbe. 3510Sey what thou wolt, I shal it never telleTo child ne wyf, by him that harwed helle!'

'Now John,' quod Nicholas, 'I wol nat lye;I have y-founde in myn astrologye,As I have loked in the mone bright, 3515That now, a Monday next, at quarter-night, (330)Shal falle a reyn and that so wilde and wood,That half so greet was never Noës flood.This world,' he seyde, 'in lasse than in an hourShal al be dreynt, so hidous is the shour; 3520Thus shal mankynde drenche and lese hir lyf.'

This carpenter answerde, 'allas, my wyf!And shal she drenche? allas! myn Alisoun!'For sorwe of this he fil almost adoun,And seyde, 'is ther no remedie in this cas?' 3525

'Why, yis, for gode,' quod hende Nicholas, (340)'If thou wolt werken after lore and reed;Thou mayst nat werken after thyn owene heed.For thus seith Salomon, that was ful trewe,"Werk al by conseil, and thou shalt nat rewe." 3530And if thou werken wolt by good conseil,I undertake, with-outen mast and seyl,Yet shal I saven hir and thee and meHastow nat herd how saved was Noë,Whan that our lord had warned him biforn 3535That al the world with water sholde be lorn?' (350)

'Yis,' quod this carpenter, 'ful yore ago.'

'Hastow nat herd,' quod Nicholas, 'alsoThe sorwe of Noë with his felawshipe,Er that he mighte gete his wyf to shipe? 3540Him had be lever, I dar wel undertake,At thilke tyme, than alle hise wetheres blake,That she hadde had a ship hir-self allone.And ther-fore, wostou what is best to done?This asketh haste, and of an hastif thing 3545Men may nat preche or maken tarying. (360)

Anon go gete us faste in-to this inA kneding-trogh, or elles a kimelin,For ech of us, but loke that they be large,In whiche we mowe swimme as in a barge, 3550And han ther-inne vitaille suffisantBut for a day; fy on the remenant!The water shal aslake and goon awayAboute pryme up-on the nexte day.But Robin may nat wite of this, thy knave, 3555Ne eek thy mayde Gille I may nat save; (370)Axe nat why, for though thou aske me,I wol nat tellen goddes privetee.Suffiseth thee, but if thy wittes madde,To han as greet a grace as Noë hadde. 3560Thy wyf shal I wel saven, out of doute,Go now thy wey, and speed thee heer-aboute.

But whan thou hast, for hir and thee and me,Y-geten us thise kneding-tubbes three,Than shaltow hange hem in the roof ful hye, 3565That no man of our purveyaunce spye. (380)And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd,And hast our vitaille faire in hem y-leyd,And eek an ax, to smyte the corde atwoWhen that the water comth, that we may go, 3570And broke an hole an heigh, up-on the gable,Unto the gardin-ward, over the stable,That we may frely passen forth our wayWhan that the grete shour is goon away—Than shaltow swimme as myrie, I undertake, 3575As doth the whyte doke after hir drake. (390)Than wol I clepe, "how! Alison! how! John!Be myrie, for the flood wol passe anon."And thou wolt seyn, "hayl, maister Nicholay!Good morwe, I se thee wel, for it is day." 3580And than shul we be lordes al our lyfOf al the world, as Noë and his wyf.

But of o thyng I warne thee ful right,Be wel avysed, on that ilke nightThat we ben entred in-to shippes bord, 3585That noon of us ne speke nat a word, (400)Ne clepe, ne crye, but been in his preyere;For it is goddes owne heste dere.

Thy wyf and thou mote hange fer a-twinne,For that bitwixe yow shal be no sinne 3590No more in looking than ther shal in dede;This ordinance is seyd, go, god thee spede!Tomorwe at night, whan men ben alle aslepe,In-to our kneding-tubbes wol we crepe,And sitten ther, abyding goddes grace. 3595Go now thy wey, I have no lenger space (410)To make of this no lenger sermoning.Men seyn thus, "send the wyse, and sey no-thing;"Thou art so wys, it nedeth thee nat teche;Go, save our lyf, and that I thee biseche.' 3600

This sely carpenter goth forth his wey.Ful ofte he seith 'allas' and 'weylawey,'And to his wyf he tolde his privetee;And she was war, and knew it bet than he,What al this queynte cast was for to seye. 3605But nathelees she ferde as she wolde deye, (420)And seyde, 'allas! go forth thy wey anon,Help us to scape, or we ben lost echon;I am thy trewe verray wedded wyf;Go, dere spouse, and help to save our lyf.' 3610

Lo! which a greet thyng is affeccioun!Men may dye of imaginacioun,So depe may impressioun be take.This sely carpenter biginneth quake;Him thinketh verraily that he may see 3615Noës flood come walwing as the see (430)To drenchen Alisoun, his hony dere.He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory chere,He syketh with ful many a sory swogh.He gooth and geteth him a kneding-trogh, 3620And after that a tubbe and a kimelin,And prively he sente hem to his in,And heng hem in the roof in privetee.His owne hand he made laddres three,To climben by the ronges and the stalkes 3625Un-to the tubbes hanginge in the balkes, (440)And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe,With breed and chese, and good ale in a Iubbe,Suffysinge right y-nogh as for a day.But er that he had maad al this array, 3630He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also,Up-on his nede to London for to go.And on the Monday, whan it drow to night,He shette his dore with-oute candel-light,And dressed al thing as it sholde be. 3635And shortly, up they clomben alle three; (450)They sitten stille wel a furlong-way.

'Now, Pater-noster, clom!' seyde Nicholay,And 'clom,' quod John, and 'clom,' seyde Alisoun.This carpenter seyde his devocioun, 3640And stille he sit, and biddeth his preyere,Awaytinge on the reyn, if he it here.

The dede sleep, for wery bisinesse,Fil on this carpenter right, as I gesse,Aboute corfew-tyme, or litel more; 3645For travail of his goost he groneth sore, (460)And eft he routeth, for his heed mislay.Doun of the laddre stalketh Nicholay,And Alisoun, ful softe adoun she spedde;With-outen wordes mo, they goon to bedde 3650Ther-as the carpenter is wont to lye.Ther was the revel and the melodye;And thus lyth Alison and Nicholas,In bisinesse of mirthe and of solas,Til that the belle of laudes gan to ringe, 3655And freres in the chauncel gonne singe. (470)

This parish-clerk, this amorous Absolon,That is for love alwey so wo bigon,Up-on the Monday was at OseneyeWith companye, him to disporte and pleye, 3660And axed up-on cas a cloistererFul prively after Iohn the carpenter;And he drough him a-part out of the chirche,And seyde, 'I noot, I saugh him here nat wircheSin Saterday; I trow that he be went 3665For timber, ther our abbot hath him sent; (480)For he is wont for timber for to go,And dwellen at the grange a day or two;Or elles he is at his hous, certeyn;Wher that he be, I can nat sothly seyn.' 3670

This Absolon ful Ioly was and light,And thoghte, 'now is tyme wake al night;For sikirly I saugh him nat stiringeAboute his dore sin day bigan to springe.So moot I thryve, I shal, at cokkes crowe, 3675Ful prively knokken at his windowe (490)That stant ful lowe up-on his boures wal.To Alison now wol I tellen alMy love-longing, for yet I shal nat misseThat at the leste wey I shal hir kisse. 3680Som maner confort shal I have, parfay,My mouth hath icched al this longe day;That is a signe of kissing atte leste.Al night me mette eek, I was at a feste.Therfor I wol gon slepe an houre or tweye, 3685And al the night than wol I wake and pleye.' (500)

Whan that the firste cok hath crowe, anonUp rist this Ioly lover Absolon,And him arrayeth gay, at point-devys.But first he cheweth greyn and lycorys, 3690To smellen swete, er he had kembd his heer.Under his tonge a trewe love he beer,For ther-by wende he to ben gracious.He rometh to the carpenteres hous,And stille he stant under the shot-windowe; 3695Un-to his brest it raughte, it was so lowe; (510)And softe he cogheth with a semi-soun—'What do ye, hony-comb, swete Alisoun?My faire brid, my swete cinamome,Awaketh, lemman myn, and speketh to me! 3700Wel litel thenken ye up-on my wo,That for your love I swete ther I go.No wonder is thogh that I swelte and swete;I moorne as doth a lamb after the tete.Y-wis, lemman, I have swich love-longinge, 3705That lyk a turtel trewe is my moorninge; (520)I may nat ete na more than a mayde.'

'Go fro the window, Iakke fool,' she sayde,'As help me god, it wol nat be "com ba me,"I love another, and elles I were to blame, 3710Wel bet than thee, by Iesu, Absolon!Go forth thy wey, or I wol caste a ston,And lat me slepe, a twenty devel wey!'

'Allas,' quod Absolon, 'and weylawey!That trewe love was ever so yvel biset! 3715Than kisse me, sin it may be no bet, (530)For Iesus love and for the love of me.'

'Wiltow than go thy wey ther-with?' quod she.

'Ye, certes, lemman,' quod this Absolon.

'Thanne make thee redy,' quod she, 'I come anon;' 3720And un-to Nicholas she seyde stille, [T. om.'Now hust, and thou shall laughen al thy fille.' [T. om.

This Absolon doun sette him on his knees,And seyde, 'I am a lord at alle degrees;For after this I hope ther cometh more! 3725Lemman, thy grace, and swete brid, thyn ore!' (540)

The window she undoth, and that in haste,'Have do,' quod she, 'com of, and speed thee faste,Lest that our neighebores thee espye.'

This Absolon gan wype his mouth ful drye; 3730Derk was the night as pich, or as the cole,And at the window out she putte hir hole,And Absolon, him fil no bet ne wers,But with his mouth he kiste hir naked ersFul savourly, er he was war of this. 3735

Abak he sterte, and thoghte it was amis, (550)For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd;He felte a thing al rough and long y-herd,And seyde, 'fy! allas! what have I do?'

'Tehee!' quod she, and clapte the window to; 3740And Absolon goth forth a sory pas.

'A berd, a berd!' quod hende Nicholas,'By goddes corpus, this goth faire and weel!'

This sely Absolon herde every deel,And on his lippe he gan for anger byte; 3745And to him-self he seyde, 'I shal thee quyte!' (560)

Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippesWith dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with chippes,But Absolon, that seith ful ofte, 'allas!My soule bitake I un-to Sathanas, 3750But me wer lever than al this toun,' quod he,'Of this despyt awroken for to be!Allas!' quod he, 'allas! I ne hadde y-bleynt!'His hote love was cold and al y-queynt;For fro that tyme that he had kiste hir ers, 3755Of paramours he sette nat a kers, (570)For he was heled of his maladye;Ful ofte paramours he gan deffye,And weep as dooth a child that is y-bete.A softe paas he wente over the strete 3760Un-til a smith men cleped daun Gerveys,That in his forge smithed plough-harneys;He sharpeth shaar and culter bisily.This Absolon knokketh al esily,And seyde, 'undo, Gerveys, and that anon.' 3765

'What, who artow?' 'It am I, Absolon.' (580)'What, Absolon! for Cristes swete tree,Why ryse ye so rathe, ey, benedicite!What eyleth yow? som gay gerl, god it woot,Hath broght yow thus up-on the viritoot; 3770By sëynt Note, ye woot wel what I mene.'

This Absolon ne roghte nat a beneOf al his pley, no word agayn he yaf;He hadde more tow on his distafThan Gerveys knew, and seyde, 'freend so dere, 3775That hote culter in the chimenee here, (590)As lene it me, I have ther-with to done,And I wol bringe it thee agayn ful sone.'

Gerveys answerde, 'certes, were it gold,Or in a poke nobles alle untold, 3780Thou sholdest have, as I am trewe smith;Ey, Cristes foo! what wol ye do ther-with?'

'Ther-of,' quod Absolon, 'be as be may;I shal wel telle it thee to-morwe day'—And caughte the culter by the colde stele. 3785Ful softe out at the dore he gan to stele, (600)And wente un-to the carpenteres wal.He cogheth first, and knokketh ther-with-alUpon the windowe, right as he dide er.

This Alison answerde, 'Who is ther 3790That knokketh so? I warante it a theef.'

'Why, nay,' quod he, 'god woot, my swete leef,I am thyn Absolon, my dereling!Of gold,' quod he, 'I have thee broght a ring;My moder yaf it me, so god me save, 3795Ful fyn it is, and ther-to wel y-grave; (610)This wol I yeve thee, if thou me kisse!'

This Nicholas was risen for to pisse,And thoghte he wolde amenden al the Iape,He sholde kisse his ers er that he scape. 3800And up the windowe dide he hastily,And out his ers he putteth privelyOver the buttok, to the haunche-bon;And ther-with spak this clerk, this Absolon,'Spek, swete brid, I noot nat wher thou art.' 3805

This Nicholas anon leet flee a fart, (620)As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,That with the strook he was almost y-blent;And he was redy with his iren hoot,And Nicholas amidde the ers he smoot. 3810

Of gooth the skin an hande-brede aboute,The hole culter brende so his toute,And for the smert he wende for to dye.As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye—Help! water! water! help, for goddes herte!' 3815

This carpenter out of his slomber sterte, (630)And herde oon cryen 'water' as he were wood,And thoghte, 'Allas! now comth Nowelis flood!'He sit him up with-outen wordes mo,And with his ax he smoot the corde a-two, 3820And doun goth al; he fond neither to selle,Ne breed ne ale, til he cam to the selleUp-on the floor; and ther aswowne he lay.

Up sterte hir Alison, and Nicholay,And cryden 'out' and 'harrow' in the strete. 3835The neighebores, bothe smale and grete, (640)In ronnen, for to gauren on this man,That yet aswowne he lay, bothe pale and wan;For with the fal he brosten hadde his arm;But stonde he moste un-to his owne harm. 3830For whan he spak, he was anon bore dounWith hende Nicholas and Alisoun.They tolden every man that he was wood,He was agast so of 'Nowelis flood'Thurgh fantasye, that of his vanitee 3835He hadde y-boght him kneding-tubbes three, (650)And hadde hem hanged in the roof above;And that he preyed hem, for goddes love,To sitten in the roof, par companye.

The folk gan laughen at his fantasye; 3840In-to the roof they kyken and they gape,And turned al his harm un-to a Iape.For what so that this carpenter answerde,It was for noght, no man his reson herde;With othes grete he was so sworn adoun, 3845That he was holden wood in al the toun; (660)For every clerk anon-right heeld with other.They seyde, 'the man is wood, my leve brother;'And every wight gan laughen of this stryf.

Thus swyved was the carpenteres wyf, 3850For al his keping and his Ialousye;And Absolon hath kist hir nether yë;And Nicholas is scalded in the toute. (667)This tale is doon, and god save al the route! 3854

Here endeth the Millere his tale.