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Woot ye nat where ther stant a litel toun, | |
Which that ycleped is Bobbe-up-and-doun | |
Under the Blee, in Caunterbury weye? | |
Ther gan oure Hooste for to jape and pleye, | |
5 | And seyde, "Sires, what, Dun is in the Myre! |
Is ther no man for preyere ne for hyre, | |
That wole awake oure felawe al bihynde? | |
A theef myghte hym ful lightly robbe and bynde. | |
See how he nappeth, see how for cokkes bones, | |
10 | That he wol falle fro his hors atones. |
Is that a Cook of London, with meschaunce? | |
Do hym com forth, he knoweth his penaunce, | |
For he shal telle a tale, by my fey, | |
Although it be nat worth a botel hey. | |
15 | Awake, thou Cook," quod he, "God yeve thee sorwe, |
What eyleth thee, to slepe by the morwe? | |
Hastow had fleen al nyght, or artow dronke? | |
Or hastow with som quene al nyght yswonke | |
So that thow mayst nat holden up thyn heed?" |
20 | This Cook that was ful pale, and no thyng reed, |
Seyde to oure Hoost, "So God my soule blesse, | |
As ther is falle on me swich hevynesse, | |
Noot I nat why, that me were levere slepe | |
Than the beste galon wyn in Chepe." | |
25 | "Wel," quod the Maunciple, "if it may doon ese |
To thee, sire Cook, and to no wight displese | |
Which that heere rideth in this compaignye, | |
And that oure Hoost wole of his curteisye, | |
I wol as now excuse thee of thy tale, | |
30 | For, in good feith, thy visage is ful pale. |
Thyne eyen daswen eek, as that me thynketh, | |
And wel I woot, thy breeth ful soure stynketh. | |
That sheweth wel thou art nat wel disposed, | |
Of me, certeyn, thou shalt nat been yglosed. | |
35 | See how he ganeth, lo, this dronken wight! |
As though he wolde swolwe us anonright. | |
Hoold cloos thy mouth, man, by thy fader kyn, | |
The devel of helle sette his foot therin. | |
Thy cursed breeth infecte wole us alle, | |
40 | Fy, stynkyng swyn! Fy, foule moothe thou falle! |
A, taketh heede, sires, of this lusty man! | |
Now, sweete sire, wol ye justen atte fan? | |
Therto me thynketh ye been wel yshape, | |
I trowe that ye dronken han wyn ape, | |
45 | And that is, whan men pleyen with a straw." |
And with this speche the Cook wax wrooth and wraw, | |
And on the Manciple he gan nodde faste, | |
For lakke of speche, and doun the hors hym caste, | |
Where as he lay til that men up hym took; | |
50 | This was a fair chyvachee of a Cook! |
Allas, he nadde holde hym by his ladel! | |
And er that he agayn were in his sadel | |
Ther was greet showvyng bothe to and fro, | |
To lifte hym up, and muchel care and wo, | |
55 | So unweeldy was this sory palled goost. |
And to the Manciple thanne spak oure hoost, |
"By cause drynke hath dominacioun, | |
Upon this man, by my savacioun, | |
I trowe he lewedly wolde telle his tale. | |
60 | For, were it wyn, or oold or moysty ale, |
That he hath dronke, he speketh in his nose, | |
And fneseth faste, and eek he hath the pose. | |
He hath also to do moore than ynough | |
To kepen hym and his capul out of slough, | |
65 | And if he falle from his capul eftsoone, |
Thanne shal we alle have ynogh to doone | |
In liftyng up his hevy dronken cors. | |
Telle on thy tale, of hym make I no fors; | |
But yet, Manciple, in feith thou art to nyce, | |
70 | Thus openly repreve hym of his vice. |
Another day he wole, peraventure | |
Reclayme thee and brynge thee to lure. | |
I meene, he speke wole of smale thynges, | |
As for to pynchen at thy rekenynges, | |
75 | That were nat honeste, if it cam to preef." |
"No," quod the Manciple, "that were a greet mescheef, | |
So myghte he lightly brynge me in the snare; | |
Yet hadde I levere payen for the mare, | |
Which that he rit on, than he sholde with me stryve | |
80 | I wol nat wratthen hym, al so moot I thryve; |
That that I speke, I seyde it in my bourde. | |
And wite ye what? I have heer in a gourde | |
A draghte of wyn, ye, of a ripe grape, | |
And right anon ye shul seen a good jape. | |
85 | This Cook shal drynke therof if that I may, |
Up peyne of deeth, he wol nat seye me nat." | |
And certeynly, to tellen as it was, | |
Of this vessel the Cook drank faste; allas, | |
What neded hym? He drank ynough biforn! | |
90 | And whan he hadde pouped in this horn, |
To the Manciple he took the gourde agayn, | |
And of that drynke the Cook was wonder fayn, | |
And thanked hym in swich wise as he koude. | |
Thanne gan oure Hoost to laughen wonder loude, | |
95 | And seyde, "I se wel it is necessarie |
Where that we goon, that drynke we with us carie. | |
For that wol turne rancour and disese | |
T'acord and love and many a wrong apese. | |
O thou Bacus, yblessed be thy name, | |
100 | That so kanst turnen ernest into game! |
Worshipe and thank be to thy deitee! | |
Of that mateere ye gete namoore of me, | |
Telle on thy tale, Manciple, I thee preye." | |
"Wel, sire," quod he, "now herkneth what I seye." |
Next: The Manciple's Tale (ll. 105-362) | © Librarius All rights reserved. |