| At TRUMPYNGTOUN, nat fer fro Cantebrigge, |
| Ther gooth a brook, and over that a brigge, |
| Upon the whiche brook ther stant a melle; |
| 70 | And this is verray sooth that I yow telle. |
| A millere was ther dwellynge many a day; |
| As any pecok he was proud and gay. |
| Pipen he koude and fisshe, and nettes beete, |
| And turne coppes, and wel wrastle and sheete; |
| 75 | Ay by his belt he baar a long panade, |
| And of a swerd ful trenchant was the blade. |
| A joly poppere baar he in his pouche; |
| Ther was no man, for peril, dorste hym touche. |
| A Sheffeld thwitel baar he in his hose. |
| 80 | Round was his face, and camus was his nose; |
| As piled as an ape was his skulle. |
| He was a market-betere atte fulle. |
| Ther dorste no wight hand upon hym legge, |
| That he ne swoor he sholde anon abegge. |
| 85 | A theef he was for sothe of corn and mele, |
| And that a sly, and usaunt for to stele. |
| His name was hoote deynous Symkyn. |
| A wyf he hadde, ycomen of noble kyn; |
| The person of the toun hir fader was. |
| 90 | With hire he yaf ful many a panne of bras, |
| For that Symkyn sholde in his blood allye. |
| She was yfostred in a nonnerye; |
| For Symkyn wolde no wyf, as he sayde, |
| But she were wel ynorissed and a mayde, |
| 95 | To saven his estaat of yomanrye. |
| And she was proud, and peert as is a pye. |
| A ful fair sighte was it upon hem two; |
| On halydayes biforn hire wolde he go |
| With his typet wound aboute his heed, |
| 100 | And she cam after in a gyte of reed; |
| And Symkyn hadde hosen of the same. |
| Ther dorste no wight clepen hire but 'dame'; |
| Was noon so hardy that went by the weye |
| That with hire dorste rage or ones pleye, |
| 105 | But if he wolde be slayn of Symkyn |
| With panade, or with knyf, or boidekyn. |
| For jalous folk ben perilous everemo; |
| Algate they wolde hire wyves wenden so. |
| And eek, for she was somdel smoterlich, |
| 110 | She was as digne as water in a dich, |
| And ful of hoker and of bisemare. |
| Hir thoughte that a lady sholde hire spare, |
| What for hire kynrede and hir nortelrie |
| That she hadde lerned in the nonnerie. |
|
Greet sokene hath his millere, out of doute, |
| With whete and malt of al the land aboute; |
| 135 | And nameliche ther was a greet collegge |
| Men clepen the Soler Halle at Cantebregge; |
| Ther was hir whete and eek hir malt ygrounde. |
| And on a day it happed, in a stounde, |
| Sik lay the maunciple on a maladye; |
| 140 | Men wenden wisly that he sholde dye. |
| For which this millere stal bothe mele and corn |
| And hundred tyme moore than biforn; |
| For therbiforn he stal but curteisly, |
| But now he was a theef outrageously, |
| 145 | For which the wardeyn chidde and made fare. |
| But therof sette the millere nat a tare; |
| He cracketh boost, and swoor it was nat so. |
| Thanne were ther yonge povre scolers two, |
| That dwelten in this halle, of which I seye. |
| 150 | Testif they were, and lusty for to pleye, |
| And oonly for hire myrthe and revelrye, |
| Upon the wardeyn bisily they crye |
| To yeve hem leve, but a litel stounde, |
| To goon to mille and seen hir corn ygrounde; |
| 155 | And hardily they dorste leye hir nekke |
| The millere sholde not stele hem half a pekke |
| Of corn by sleighte, ne by force hem reve; |
| And at the laste the wardeyn yaf hem leve. |
| John highte that oon, and Aleyn highte that oother; |
| 160 | Of o toun were they born, that highte Strother, |
| Fer in the north, I kan nat telle where. |
|
This Aleyn maketh redy al his gere, |
| And on an hors the sak he caste anon. |
| Forth goth Aleyn the clerk, and also John, |
| 165 | With good swerd and with bokeler by hir syde. |
| John knew the wey, - hem nedede no gyde, - |
| And at the mille the sak adoun he layth. |
| Aleyn spak first, "Al hayl, Symond, y-fayth! |
| Hou fares thy faire doghter and thy wyf?" |
| 170 | "Aleyn, welcome," quod Symkyn, "by my lyf! |
| And John also, how now, what do ye heer?" |
| "Symond," quod John, "by God, nede has na peer. |
| Hym boes serve hymself that has na swayn, |
| Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes sayn. |
| 175 | Oure manciple, I hope he wil be deed, |
| Swa werkes ay the wanges in his heed; |
| And forthy is I come, and eek Alayn, |
| To grynde oure corn and carie it ham agayn; |
| I pray yow spede us heythen that ye may." |
| 180 | "It shal be doon," quod Symkyn, "by my fay! |
| What wol ye doon whil that is in hande?" |
| "By God, right by the hopur wil I stande," |
| Quod John, "and se howgates the corn gas in. |
| Yet saugh I nevere, by my fader kyn, |
| 185 | How that the hopur wagges til and fra." |
| Aleyn answerde, "John, and wiltow swa? |
| Thanne wil I be bynethe, by my croun, |
| And se how that the mele falles doun |
| Into the trough; that sal be my disport. |
| 190 | For John, y-faith, I may been of youre sort; |
| I is as ille a millere as ar ye." |
| This millere smyled of hir nycetee, |
| And thoghte, "Al this nys doon but for a wyle. |
| They wene that no man may hem bigyle, |
| 195 | But by my thrift, yet shal I blere hir ye, |
| For al the sleighte in hir philosophye. |
| The moore queynte crekes that they make, |
| The moore wol I stele whan I take. |
| In stide of flour yet wol I yeve hem bren. |
| 200 | 'The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men,' |
| As whilom to the wolf thus spak the mare. |
| Of al hir art ne counte I noght a tare." |
| Out at the dore he gooth ful pryvely, |
| Whan that he saugh his tyme, softely. |
| 205 | He looketh up and doun til he hath founde |
| The clerkes hors, ther as it stood ybounde |
| Bihynde the mille, under a levesel; |
| And to the hors he goth hym faire and wel; |
| He strepeth of the brydel right anon. |
| 210 | And whan the hors was laus, he gynneth gon |
| Toward the fen, ther wilde mares renne, |
| And forth with 'wehee,' thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne |
|
This millere gooth agayn, no word he seyde, |
| But dooth his note, and with the clerkes pleyde, |
| 215 | Til that hir corn was faire and weel ygrounde. |
| And whan the mele is sakked and ybounde, |
| This John goth out and fynt his hors away, |
| And gan to crie "Harrow!" and "Weylaway! |
| Oure hors is lorn, Alayn, for Goddes banes, |
| 220 | Step on thy feet! Com of man, man, al atanes! |
| Allas, our wardeyn has his palfrey lorn." |
| This Aleyn al forgat, bothe mele and corn; |
| Al was out of his mynde his housbonderie. |
| "What, whilk way is he geen?" he gan to crie. |
| 225 | The wyf cam lepynge inward with a ren. |
| She seyde, "Allas! youre hors goth to the fen |
| With wilde mares, as faste as he may go. |
| Unthank come on his hand that boond hym so, |
| And he that bettre sholde han knyt the reyne!" |
| 230 | "Allas," quod John, "Aleyn, for Cristes peyne, |
| Lay doun thy swerd, and I wil myn alswa. |
| I is ful wight, God waat, as is a raa; |
| By Goddes herte, he sal nat scape us bathe! |
| Why ne had thow pit the capul in the lathe? |
| 235 | Ilhayl! by God, Alayn, thou is a fonne!" |
| Thise sely clerkes han ful faste yronne |
| Toward the fen, bothe Aleyn and eek John. |
| And whan the millere saugh that they were gon, |
| He half a busshel of hir flour hath take, |
| 240 | And bad his wyf go knede it in a cake. |
| He seyde, "I trowe the clerkes were aferd |
| Yet kan a millere make a clerkes berd, |
| For al his art; now lat hem goon hir weye! |
| Lo, wher he gooth! ye, lat the children pleye. |
| 245 | They gete hym nat so lightly, by my croun." |
| Thise sely clerkes rennen up and doun |
| With 'Keep! keep! stand! stand! jossa, warderere, |
| Ga whistle thou, and I shal kepe hym heere!' |
| But shortly, til that it was verray nyght, |
| 250 | They koude nat, though they dide al hir myght, |
| Hir capul cacche, he ran alwey so faste, |
| Til in a dych they caughte hym atte laste. |
|
Wery and weet, as beest is in the reyn, |
| Comth sely John, and with him comth Aleyn. |
| 255 | "Allas," quod John, "the day that I was born! |
| Now are we dryve til hethyng and til scorn. |
| Oure corn is stoln, men wil us fooles calle, |
| Bathe the wardeyn and oure felawes alle, |
| And namely the millere, weylaway!" |
| 260 | Thus pleyneth John as he gooth by the way |
| Toward the mille, and Bayard in his hond. |
| The millere sittynge by the fyr he fond, |
| For it was nyght, and forther myghte they noght; |
| But for the love of God they hym bisoght |
| 265 | Of herberwe and of ese, as for hir peny. |
| The millere seyde agayn, "If ther be eny, |
| Swich as it is, yet shal ye have youre part. |
| Myn hous is streit, but ye han lerned art; |
| Ye konne by arguments make a place |
| 270 | A myle brood of twenty foot of space. |
| Lat se now if this place may suffise, |
| Or make it rowm with speche, as is your gise." |
| "Now, Symond," seyde John, "by seint Cutberd, |
| Ay is thou myrie, and this is faire answerd. |
| 275 | I have herd seyd, 'Man sal taa of twa thynges |
| Slyk as he fyndes, or taa slyk as he brynges.' |
| But specially I pray thee, hooste deere, |
| Get us som mete and drynke, and make us cheere, |
| And we wil payen trewely atte fulle. |
| 280 | With empty hand men may na haukes tulle; |
| Loo, heere oure silver, redy for to spende." |
| This millere into toun his doghter sende |
| For ale and breed, and rosted hem a goos, |
| And booned hire hors, it sholde namoore go loos; |
| 285 | And in his owene chambre hem made a bed, |
| With sheetes and with chalons faire yspred, |
| Noght from his owene bed ten foot or twelve. |
| His doghter hadde a bed, al by hirselve, |
| Right in the same chambre by and by. |
| 290 | It myghte be no bet, and cause why? |
| Ther was no roumer herberwe in the place. |
| They soupen and they speke, hem to solace, |
| And drynken evere strong ale atte beste. |
| Aboute mydnyght wente they to reste. |
| 295 | Wel hath this millere vernysshed his heed; |
| Ful pale he was for dronken, and nat reed. |
| He yexeth, and he speketh thurgh the nose |
| As he were on the quakke, or on the pose. |
| To bedde he goth, and with hym goth his wyf. |
| 300 | As any jay she light was and jolyf, |
| So was hir joly whistle wel ywet. |
| The cradel at hir beddes feet is set, |
| To rokken, and to yeve the child to sowke. |
| And whan that dronken al was in the crowke, |
| 305 | To bedde wente the doghter right anon; |
| To bedde goth Aleyn and also John; |
| Ther nas na moore, - hem nebede no dwale. |
| This millere hath so wisely bibbed ale |
| That as an hors he fnorteth in his sleep, |
| 310 | Ne of his tayl bihynde he took no keep. |
| His wyf bar hym a burdon, a ful strong; |
| Men myghte hir rowtyng heere two furlong; |
| The wenche rowteth eek, par compaignye. |
|
Aleyn the clerk, that herde this melodye, |
| 315 | He poked John, and seyde, "Slepestow? |
| Herdestow evere slyk a sang er now? |
| Lo, swilk a complyn is ymel hem alle, |
| A wilde fyr upon thair bodyes falle! |
| Wha herkned evere slyk a ferly thyng? |
| 320 | Ye, they sal have the flour of il endyng. |
| This lange nyght ther tydes me na reste; |
| But yet, nafors, al sal be for the beste. |
| For, John," seyde he, "als evere moot I thryve, |
| If that I may, yon wenche wil I swyve. |
| 325 | Som esement has lawe yshapen us; |
| For, John, ther is a lawe that says thus, |
| That gif a man in a point be agreved, |
| That in another he sal be reveled. |
| Oure corn is stoln, sothly, it is na nay, |
| 330 | And we han had an il fit al this day; |
| And syn I sal have neen amendement |
| Agayn my los, I will have esement. |
| By Goddes sale, it sal neen other bee!" |
| This John answerde, "Alayn, avyse thee! |
| 335 | The millere is a perilous man, "he seyde, |
| "And gif that he out of his sleep abreyde, |
| He myghte doon us bathe a vileynye." |
| Aleyn answerde, "I counte hym nat a flye." |
| And up he rist, and by the wenche he crepte. |
| 340 | This wenche lay uprighte, and faste slepte, |
| Til he so ny was, er she myghte espie, |
| That it had been to late for to crie, |
| And shortly for to seyn, they were aton. |
| Now pley, Aleyn, for I wol speke of John. |
| 345 | This John lith stille a furlong wey or two, |
| And to hymself he maketh routhe and wo. |
| "Allas!" quod he, "this is a wikked jape; |
| Now may I seyn that I is but an ape. |
| Yet has my felawe somwhat for his harm; |
| 350 | He has the milleres doghter in his arm. |
| He auntred hym, and has his nedes sped, |
| And I lye as a draf-sak in my bed; |
| And when this jape is tald another day, |
| I sal been halde a daf, a cokenay! |
| 355 | I wil arise and auntre it, by my fayth! |
| 'Unhardy is unseely,' thus men sayth." |
| And up he roos, and softely he wente |
| Unto the cradel, and in his hand it hente, |
| And baar it softe unto his beddes feet. |
| 360 |
Soon after this the wyf hir rowtyng leet, |
| And gan awake, and wente hire out to pisse, |
| And cam agayn, and gan hir cradel mysse |
| And groped heer and ther, but she found noon. |
| "Allas!" quod she, "I hadde almoost mysgoon; |
| 365 | I hadde almoost goon to the clerkes bed. |
| Ey, benedicite! thanne hadde I foule ysped." |
| And forth she gooth til she the cradel fond. |
| She gropeth alwey forther with hir hond, |
| And foond the bed, and thoghte noght but good, |
| 370 | By cause that the cradel by it stood, |
| And nyste wher she was, for it was derk; |
| But faire and wel she creep in to the clerk, |
| And lith ful stille, and wolde han caught a sleep. |
| Withinne a while this John the clerk up leep, |
| 375 | And on this goode wyf he leith on soore. |
| So myrie a fit ne hadde she nat ful yoore; |
| He priketh harde and depe as he were mad. |
| This joly lyf han thise two clerkes lad |
| Til that the thridde cok bigan to synge. |
| 380 | Aleyn wax wery in the dawenynge, |
| For he had swonken al the longe nyght, |
| And seyde, "Fare weel, Malyne, sweete wight! |
| The day is come, I may no lenger byde; |
| But everemo, wher so I go or ryde, |
| 385 | I is thyn awen clerk, swa have I seel!" |
| "Now, deere lemman," quod she, "go, far weel! |
| But er thow go, o thyng I wol thee telle: |
| Whan that thou wendest homward by the melle, |
| Right at the entre of the dore bihynde |
| 390 | Thou shalt a cake of half a busshel fynde |
| That was ymaked of thyn owene mele, |
| Which that I heelp my sire for to stele. |
| And, goode lemman, God thee save and kepe!" |
| And with that word almoost she gan to wepe. |
| 395 | Aleyn up rist, and thoughte, "Er that it dawe |
| I wol crepen in by my felawe," |
| And fond the cradel with his hand anon. |
| "By God," thoughte he, al wrang I have mysgon. |
| Myn heed is toty of my swynk to-nyght, |
| 400 | That makes me that I ga nat aright. |
| I woot wel by the cradel I have mysgo; |
| Heere lith the millere and his wyf also." |
| And forth he goth, a twenty devel way, |
| Unto the bed ther as the millere lay. |
| 405 | He wende have cropen by his felawe John, |
| And by the millere in the creep anon, |
| And caughte hym by the nekke, and softe he spak. |
| He seyde, "Thou John, thou swynes-heed, awak, |
| For Cristes saule, and heer a noble game. |
| 410 | For by that lord called is seint Jame, |
| As I have thries in this shorte nyght |
| Swyved the milleres doghter bolt upright, |
| Whil thow hast, as a coward, been agast." |
|
"Ye, false harlot," quod the millere, "hast? |
| 415 | A, false traitor! false clerk!" quod he, |
| Tow shalt be deed, by Goddes dignitee! |
| Who dorste be so boold to disparage |
| My doghter, that is come of swich lynage?' |
| And by the throte-bolle he caughte Alayn, |
| 420 | And he hente hym despitously agayn, |
| And on the nose he smoot hym with his fest. |
| Doun ran the blody streem upon his brest; |
| And in the floor, with nose and mouth tobroke, |
| They walwe as doon two pigges in a poke; |
| 425 | And up they goon, and doun agayn anon, |
| Til that the millere sporned at a stoon, |
| And doun he fil bakward upon his wyf, |
| That wiste no thyng of this nyce stryf; |
| For she was falle aslepe a lite wight |
| 430 | With John the clerk, that waked hadde al nyght, |
| And with the fal out of hir sleep she breyde. |
| "Help! hooly croys of Bromeholm," she seyde, |
| 'In manus tuas! Lord, to thee I calle! |
| Awak, Symond! The feend is on me falle. |
| 435 | Myn herte is broken; help! I nam but deed |
| Ther lyth oon upon my wombe and on myn heed. |
| Help. Symkyn, for the false clerkes fighte!" |
| This John stirte up as faste as ever he myghte, |
| And graspeth by the walles to and fro, |
| 440 | To fynde a staf; and she stirte up also, |
| And knew the estres bet than dide this John, |
| And by the wal a staf she foond anon, |
| And saugh a litel shymeryng of a light, |
| For at an hole in shoon the moone bright; |
| 445 | And by that light she saugh hem bothe two, |
| But sikerly she nyste who was who, |
| But as she saugh a whit thyng in hir ye. |
| And whan she gan this white espye, |
| She wende the clerk hadde wered a volupeer, |
| 450 | And with the staf she drow ay neer and neer, |
| And wende han hit this Aleyn at the fulle, |
| And smoot the millere on the pyled skulle, |
| That doun he gooth, and cride, "Harrow! I dye!" |
| Thise clerkes beete hym weel and lete hym lye; |
| 455 | And greythen hem, and tooke hir hors anon, |
| And eek hire mele, and on hir wey they gon. |
| And at the mille yet they tooke hir cake |
| Of half a busshel flour, ful wel ybake. |
| Thus is the proude millere wel ybete, |
| 460 | And hath ylost the gryndynge of the whete, |
| And payed for the soper everideel |
| Of Aleyn and of John, that bette hym weel. |
| His wyf is swyved, and his doghter als. |
| Lo, swich it is a millere to be fals! |
| 465 | And therfore this proverbe is seyd ful sooth, |
| 'Hym thar nat wene wel that yvele dooth'; |
| A gylour shal hymself bigyled be. |
| And God, that sitteth heighte in magestee, |
| Save al this compaignye, grete and smale! |
| 470 | Thus have I quyt the Millere in my tale. |
