| 45 |
Lordynges, ther is in Yorkshire, as I gesse, |
| A mersshy contree called Holdernesse, |
| In which ther wente a lymytour aboute, |
| To preche, and eek to begge, it so no doute. |
| And so bifel that on a day this frere |
| 50 | Hadde preched at a chirche in his manere, |
| And specially, aboven every thyng, |
| Excited he the peple in his prechyng |
| To trentals, and to yeve, for Goddes sake, |
| Wherwith men myghte hooly houses make, |
| 55 | Ther as divine servyce is honoured, |
| Nat ther as it is wasted and devoured, |
| Ne ther it nedeth nat for to be yive, |
| As to possessioners, that mowen lyve, |
| Thanked be God, in wele and habundaunce. |
| 60 | "Trentals," seyde he, "deliveren fro penaunce |
| Hir freendes soules, as wel olde as yonge, - |
| Ye, whan that they been hastily ysonge, |
| Nat for to holde a preest holy and gay - |
| He syngeth nat but o masse in a day. |
| 65 | Delivereth out," quod he, "anon the soules! |
| Ful hard it is with flesshhook or with oules |
| To been yclawed, or to brenne or bake. |
| Now spede yow hastily, for Cristes sake!" |
| And whan this frere had seyd al his entente, |
| 70 | With qui cum patre forth his wey he wente. |
|
Whan folk in chirche had yeve him what hem leste, |
| He wente his wey, no lenger wolde he reste, |
| With scrippe and tipped staf, ytukked hye, |
| In every hous he gan to poure and prye, |
| 75 | And beggeth mele and chese, or elles corn. |
| His felawe hadde a staf tipped with horn, |
| A peyre of tables al of yvory, |
| And a poyntel polysshed fetisly, |
| And wrooth the names alwey, as he stood, |
| 80 | Of alle folk that yaf hym any good, |
| Ascaunces that he wolde for hem preye. |
| "Yif us a busshel whete, malt, or reye, |
| A goddes kechyl, or a trype of chese, |
| Or elles what yow lyst, we may nat cheese; |
| 85 | A goddes halfpeny, or a masse peny, |
| Or yif us of youre brawn, if ye have eny; |
| A dagon of youre blanket, leeve dame, |
| Oure suster deere, - lo! Heere I write youre name, - |
| Bacon or beef, or swich thyng as ye fynde." |
|
"Nay, ther thou lixt, thou Somonour!" quod the Frere. |
| "Pees," quod oure Hoost, "for Cristes mooder deere! |
| Tel forth thy tale, and spare it nat at al." |
| 100 | "So thryve I," quod this Somonour, "so I shal!" |
| So longe he wente, hous by hous, til he |
| Cam til an hous ther he was wont to be |
| Refresshed moore than in an hundred placis. |
| Syk lay the goode man whos that the place is; |
| 105 | Bedrede upon a couche lowe he lay. |
| "Deus hic!" quod he, "O Thomas, freend, good day!" |
| Seyde this frere, curteisly and softe. |
| "Thomas," quod he, "God yelde yow! Ful ofte |
| Have I upon this bench faren ful weel; |
| 110 | Heere have I eten many a myrie meel." |
| And fro the bench he droof awey the cat, |
| And leyde adoun his potente and his hat, |
| And eek his scrippe, and sette hym softe adoun. |
| His felawe was go walked into toun |
| 115 | Forth with his knave, into that hostelrye |
| Where as he shoop hym thilke nyght to lye. |
|
"O deere maister," quod this sike man, |
| "How han ye fare sith that March bigan? |
| I saugh yow noght this fourtenyght or moore." |
| 120 | "God woot," quod he, "laboured have I ful soore, |
| And specially, for thy savacion |
| Have I seyd many a precious orison, |
| And for oure othere freendes, God hem blesse! |
| I have to day been at youre chirche at messe, |
| 125 | And seyd a sermon after my symple wit, |
| Nat al after the text of hooly writ; |
| For it is hard to yow, as I suppose, |
| And therfore wol I teche yow al the glose. |
| Glosynge is a glorious thyng, certeyn, |
| 130 | For lettre sleeth, so as we clerkes seyn. |
| There have I taught hem to be charitable, |
| And spende hir good ther it is resonable; |
| And there I saugh oure dame. A! where is she?" |
| "Yond in the yerd I trowe that she be," |
| 135 | Seyde this man, "and she wol come anon." |
| "Ey, maister, welcome be ye, by Seint John!" |
| Seyde this wyf, "How fare ye, hertely?" |
| The frere ariseth up ful curteisly, |
| And hire embraceth in his armes narwe, |
| 140 | And kiste hire sweete, and chirketh as a sparwe |
| With his lyppes: "Dame," quod he, "right weel, |
| As he that is youre servent every deel, |
| Thanked be God, that yow yaf soule and lyf! |
| Yet saugh I nat this day so fair a wyf |
| 145 | In al the chirche, God so save me!" |
| "Ye, God amende defautes, sire," quod she. |
| "Algates, welcome be ye, by my fey!" |
| "Graunt mercy, dame, this have I founde alwey. |
| But of youre grete goodnesse, by youre leve, |
| 150 | I wolde prey yow that ye nat yow greve, |
| I wole with Thomas speke a litel throwe. |
| Thise curatz been ful necligent and slowe |
| To grope tendrely a conscience |
| In shrift; in prechyng is my diligence, |
| 155 | And studie in Petres wordes and in Poules. |
| I walke, and fisshe Cristen mennes soules, |
| To yelden Jhesu Crist his propre rente; |
| To sprede his word is set al myn entente." |
|
"Now, by youre leve, o deere sire," quod she |
| 160 | "Chideth him weel, for seinte Trinitee! |
| He is as angry as a pissemyre, |
| Though that he have al that he kan desire, |
| Though I hym wrye a-nyght and make hym warm, |
| And over hym leye my leg outher myn arm, |
| 165 | He groneth lyk oure boor, lith in oure sty. |
| Oother desport right noon of hym have I; |
| I may nat plese hym in no maner cas." |
| "O Thomas, je vous dy, Thomas! Thomas! |
| This maketh the feend; this moste ben amended. |
| 170 | Ire is a thyng that hye God defended, |
| And therof wol I speke a word or two." |
| "Now, maister," quod the wyf, er that I go, |
| What wol ye dyne? I wol go theraboute." |
| "Now dame," quod he," now je vous dy sanz doute, |
| 175 | Have I nat of a capon but the lyvere, |
| And of youre softe breed nat but a shyvere, |
| And after that a rosted pigges heed - |
| But that I nolde no beest for me were deed - |
| Thanne hadde I with yow hoomly suffisaunce. |
| 180 | I am a man of litel sustenaunce; |
| My spirit hath his fostryng in the bible. |
| The body is ay so redy and penyble |
| To wake, that my stomak is destroyed. |
| I prey yow, dame, ye be nat anoyed, |
| 185 | Though I so freendly yow my conseil shewe. |
| By god! I wolde nat telle it but a fewe." |
| "Now, sire," quod she, "but o word er I go. |
| My child is deed withinne thise wykes two, |
| Soone after that ye wente out of this toun." |
| 190 |
"His deeth saugh I by revelacioun," |
| Seide this frere, "at hoom in oure dortour. |
| I dar wel seyn that, er that half an hour |
| After his deeth, I saugh hym born to blisse |
| In myn avision, so God me wisse! |
| 195 | So didde oure sexteyn and oure fermerer, |
| That han been trewe freres fifty yeer; |
| They may now - God be thanked of his loone! - |
| Maken hir jubilee and walke allone. |
| And up I roos, and al oure covent eke, |
| 200 | With many a teere trillyng on my cheke, |
| Withouten noyse or claterynge of belles; |
| Te Deum was oure song, and nothyng elles, |
| Save that to Crist I seyde an orison, |
| Thankynge hym of his revelacion. |
| 205 | For, sire and dame, trusteth me right weel, |
| Oure orisons been moore effectueel, |
| And moore we seen of Cristes secree thynges, |
| Than burel folk, although they weren kynges. |
| We lyve in poverte and in abstinence, |
| 210 | And burell folk in richesse and despence |
| Of mete and drynke, and in hir foul delit. |
| We han this worldes lust al in despit. |
| Lazar and Dives lyveden diversly, |
| And divers gerdon hadden they therby. |
| 215 | Whoso wol preye, he moot faste and be clene, |
| And fatte his soule, and make his body lene. |
| We fare as seith th'apostle; clooth and foode |
| Suffisen us, though they be nat ful goode. |
| The clennesse and the fastynge of us freres |
| 220 | Maketh that crist accepteth oure preyeres. |
| Lo, Moyses fourty dayes and fourty nyght |
| Fasted, er that the heighe God of myght |
| Spak with hym in the mountayne of Synay. |
| With empty wombe, fastynge many a day, |
| 225 | Receyved he the lawe that was writen |
| With Goddes fynger; and Elye, wel ye witen, |
| In mount Oreb, er he hadde any speche |
| With hye God, that is oure lyves leche, |
| He fasted longe, and was in contemplaunce. |
| 230 | Aaron, that hadde the temple in governaunce, |
| And eek the othere preestes everichon, |
| Into the temple whan they sholde gon |
| To preye for the peple, and do servyse, |
| They nolden drynken in no maner wyse |
| 235 | No drynke which that myghte hem dronke make, |
| But there in abstinence preye and wake, |
| Lest that they deyden. Taak heede what I seye! |
| But they be sobre that for the peple preye, |
| War that - I seye namoore, for it suffiseth. |
| 240 |
Oure Lord Jhesu, as hooly writ devyseth, |
| Yaf us ensample of fastynge and preyeres - |
| Therfore we mendynantz, we sely freres - |
| Been wedded to poverte and continence, |
| To charite, humblesse, and abstinence, |
| 245 | To persecucioun for rightwisnesse, |
| To wepynge, misericorde, and clennesse. |
| And therfore may ye se that oure preyeres - |
| I speke of us, we mendynantz, we freres - |
| Been to the hye God moore acceptable |
| 250 | Than youres, with youre feestes at the table. |
| Fro Paradys first, if I shal nat lye, |
| Was man out chaced for his glotonye; |
| And chaast was man in paradys, certeyn. |
| But herkne now, Thomas, what I shal seyn. |
| 255 | I ne have no text of it, as I suppose, |
| But I shal fynde it in a maner glose, |
| That specially oure sweete Lord Jhesus |
| Spak this by freres, whan he seyde thus: |
| 'Blessed be they that povere in spirit been.' |
| 260 | And so forth al the gospel may ye seen, |
| Wher it be likker oure professioun, |
| Or hirs that swymmen in possessioun. |
| Fy on hire pompe and on hire glotonye! |
| And for hir lewednesse I hem diffye. |
| 265 |
My thynketh they been lyk Jovinyan, |
| Fat as a whale, and walkynge as a swan, |
| Al vinolent as botel in the spence. |
| Hir preyere is of ful greet reverence, |
| Whan they for soules seye the psalm of Davit; |
| 270 | Lo, 'buf!' they seye, 'cor meum eructavit!' |
| Who folweth Cristes gospel and his foore, |
| But we that humble been, and chaast, and poore, |
| Werkeris of Goddes word, nat auditours? |
| Therfore, right as an hauk up at a sours |
| 275 | Up springeth into th'eir, right so prayeres |
| Of charitable and chaste bisy freres |
| Maken hir sours to Goddes eres two. |
| Thomas! Thomas! So moote I ryde or go, |
| And by that lord that clepid is seint Yve, |
| 280 | Nere thou oure brother, sholdestou nat thryve. |
| In our chapitre prayer we day and nyght |
| To Crist, that he thee sende heele and myght |
| Thy body for to weelden hastily." |
| "God woot," quod he, "nothyng therof feele I! |
| 285 | As help me Crist, as I in fewe yeres, |
| Have spent upon diverse manere freres |
| Ful many a pound; yet fare I never the bet. |
| Certeyn, my good have I almoost biset. |
| Farwel, my gold, for it is al ago!" |
| 290 | The frere answerde, "O Thomas, dostow so? |
| What nedeth yow diverse freres seche? |
| What nedeth hym that hath a parfit leche |
| To sechen othere leches in the toun? |
| Youre inconstance is youre confusioun. |
| 295 | Holde ye thanne me, or elles oure covent, |
| To praye for yow been insufficient? |
| Thomas, that jape nys nat worth a myte. |
| Youre maladye is for we han to lyte. |
| A! yif that covent half a quarter otes! |
| 300 | A! yif that covent foure and twenty grotes! |
| A! yif that frere a peny, and lat hym go! |
| Nay, nay, Thomas, it may no thyng be so! |
| What is a ferthyng worth parted in twelve? |
| Lo, ech thyng that is oned in himselve |
| 305 | Is moore strong than whan it is toscatered. |
| Thomas, of me thou shalt nat been yflatered; |
| Thou woldest han oure labour al for noght. |
| The hye god, that al this world hath wroght, |
| Seith that the werkman worthy is his hyre. |
| 310 | Thomas, noght of youre tresor I desire |
| As for myself, but that al oure covent |
| To preye for yow is ay so diligent, |
| And for to buylden Cristes owene chirche. |
| Thomas, if ye wol lernen for to wirche, |
| 315 | Of buyldynge up of chirches may ye fynde, |
| If it be good, in Thomas lyf of Inde. |
| Ye lye heere ful of anger and of ire, |
| With which the devel set youre herte afyre, |
| And chiden heere the sely innocent, |
| 320 | Youre wyf, that is so meke and pacient. |
| And therfore, Thomas, trowe me if thee leste, |
| Ne stryve nat with thy wyf, as for thy beste; |
| And ber this word awey now, by thy feith, |
| Touchynge swich thyng, lo, what the wise seith: |
| 325 | Withinne thyn hous ne be thou no leon; |
| To thy subgitz do noon oppression, |
| Ne make thyne aqueyntances nat to flee. - |
| And, Thomas, yet eft-soones I charge thee, |
| Be war from hire that in thy bosom slepeth; |
| 330 | War fro the serpent that so slily crepeth |
| Under the gras, and styngeth subtilly. |
| Be war, my sone, and herkne paciently, |
| That twenty thousand men han lost hir lyves |
| For stryvyng with hir lemmans and hir wyves. |
| 335 | Now sith ye han so hooly and meke a wyf, |
| What nedeth yow, Thomas, to maken stryf? |
| Ther nys, ywys, no serpent so cruel, |
| Whan man tret on his tayl, ne half so fel, |
| As womman is, whan she hath caught an ire; |
| 340 | Vengeance is thanne al that they desire. |
| Ire is a synne, oon of the grete of sevene, |
| Abhomynable unto the God of hevene; |
| And to hymself it is destruccion. |
| This every lewed viker or person |
| 345 | Kan seye, how ire engendreth homycide. |
| Ire is, in sooth, executour of pryde. |
| I koude of ire seye so muche sorwe, |
| My tale sholde laste til to-morwe. |
| And therfore preye I God, bothe day and nyght, |
| 350 | An irous man, God sende hym litel myght! |
| It is greet harm and certes greet pitee |
| To sette an irous man in heigh degree. |
|
Whilom ther was an irous potestat, |
| As seith Senek, that, durynge his estaat, |
| 355 | Upon a day out ryden knyghtes two, |
| And as Fortune wolde that it were so, |
| That oon of hem cam hoom, that oother noght. |
| Anon the knyght bifore the juge is broght, |
| That seyde thus, 'Thou hast thy felawe slayn, |
| 360 | For which I deme thee to the deeth, certayn.' |
| And to another knyght comanded he, |
| 'Go lede hym to the deeth, I charge thee.' |
| And happed, as they wente by the weye |
| Toward the place ther he sholde deye, |
| 365 | The knyght cam which men wenden had be deed. |
| Thanne thoughte they it were the beste reed |
| To lede hem bothe to the juge agayn. |
| They seiden, 'Lord, the knyght ne hath nat slayn |
| His felawe; heere he standeth hool alyve.' |
| 370 | 'Ye shul be deed,' quod he, 'so moot I thryve! |
| That is to seyn, bothe oon, and two, and thre!' |
| And to the firste knyght right thus spak he, |
| 'I dampned thee; thou most algate be deed. |
| And thou also most nedes lese thyn heed, |
| 375 | For thou art cause why thy felawe deyth.' |
| And to the thridde knyght right thus he seith, |
| 'Thou hast nat doon that I comanded thee.' |
| And thus he dide doon sleen hem alle thre. |
| Irous cambises was eek dronkelewe, |
| 380 | And ay delited hym to been a shrewe. |
| And so bifel, a lord of his meynee, |
| That loved vertuous moralitee, |
| Seyde on a day bitwix hem two right thus: |
| 'A lord is lost, if he be vicius; |
| 385 | And dronkenesse is eek a foul record |
| Of any man, and namely in a lord. |
| Ther is ful many an eye and many an ere |
| Awaityng on a lord, and he noot where. |
| For goddes love, drynk moore attemprely! |
| 390 | Wyn maketh man to lesen wrecchedly |
| His mynde and eek his lymes everichon.' |
|
'The revers shaltou se,' quod he, 'anon, |
| And preve it by thyn owene experience, |
| That wyn ne dooth to folk no swich offence. |
| 395 | Ther is no wyn bireveth me my myght |
| Of hand ne foot, ne of myne eyen sight.' |
| And for despit he drank ful muchel moore, |
| An hondred part, than he hadde don bifoore; |
| And right anon this irous, cursed wrecche |
| 400 | Leet this knyghtes sone bifore hym fecche, |
| Comandynge hym he sholde bifore hym stonde. |
| And sodeynly he took his bowe in honde, |
| And up the streng he pulled to his ere, |
| And with an arwe he slow the child right there. |
| 405 | 'Now wheither have I a siker hand or noon?' |
| Quod he; 'Is al my myght and mynde agon? |
| Hath wyn bireved me myn eyen sight?' |
| What sholde I telle th'answere of the knyght? |
| His sone was slayn, ther is namoore to seye. |
| 410 | Beth war, therfore, with lordes how ye pleye. |
| Syngeth Placebo, and 'I shal, if I kan,' |
| But if it be unto a povre man. |
| To a povre man men sholde his vices telle, |
| But nat to a lord, thogh he sholde go to helle. |
| 415 | Lo irous Cirus, thilke Percien, |
| How he destroyed the ryver of Gysen, |
| For that an hors of his was dreynt therinne, |
| Whan that he wente Babiloigne to wynne. |
| He made that the ryver was so smal |
| 420 | That wommen myghte wade it over al. |
| Lo, what seyde he that so wel teche kan? |
| 'Ne be no felawe to an irous man, |
| Ne with no wood man walke by the weye, |
| Lest thee repente;' I wol no ferther seye. |
| 425 | "Now, Thomas, leeve brother, lef thyn ire; |
| Thou shalt me fynde as just as is a squyre. |
| Hoold nat the develes knyf ay at thyn herte - |
| Thyn angre dooth thee al to soore smerte - |
| But shewe to me al thy confessioun." |
| 430 | "Nay," quod the sike man, "by Seint Symoun! |
| I have be shryven this day at my curat. |
| I have hym toold hoolly al myn estat; |
| Nedeth namoore to speken of it," seith he, |
| "But if me list, of myn humylitee." |
| 435 | "Yif me thanne of thy gold, to make oure cloystre," |
| Quod he, "for many a muscle and many an oystre, |
| Whan othere men han ben ful wel at eyse, |
| Hath been oure foode, our cloystre for to reyse. |
| And yet, God woot, unnethe the fundement |
| 440 | Parfourned is, ne of our pavement |
| Nys nat a tyle yet withinne oure wones. |
| By God! we owen fourty pound for stones. |
|
"Now help, Thomas, for hym that harwed helle! |
| For elles moste we oure bookes selle. |
| 445 | And if yow lakke oure predicacioun, |
| Thanne goth the world al to destruccioun. |
| For whoso wolde us fro this world bireve, |
| So God me save, Thomas, by youre leve, |
| He wolde bireve out of this world the sonne. |
| 450 | For who kan teche and werchen as we konne? |
| And that is nat of litel tyme," quod he, |
| "But syn Elye was, or Elise, |
| Han freres been - that fynde I of record - |
| In charitee, ythanked be oure Lord! |
| 455 | Now Thomas, help, for seinte charitee!" |
| And doun anon he sette hym on his knee. |
| This sike man wax wel ny wood for ire; |
| He wolde that the frere had been on-fire, |
| With his false dissymulacioun. |
| 460 | "Swich thyng as is in my possessioun," |
| Quod he, "that may I yeve yow, and noon oother. |
| Ye sey me thus, how that I am youre brother?" |
| "Ye, certes," quod the frere, "trusteth weel. |
| I took oure dame oure lettre with oure seel." |
| 465 | "Now wel," quod he, "and somwhat shal I yive |
| Unto youre hooly covent whil I lyve; |
| And in thyn hand thou shalt it have anon, |
| On this condicion, and oother noon, |
| That thou departe it so, my deere brother, |
| 470 | That every frere have also muche as oother. |
| This shaltou swere on thy professioun, |
| Withouten fraude or cavillacioun." |
| "I swere it," quod this frere, "by my feith!" |
| And therwithal his hand in his he leith, |
| 475 | "Lo, heer my feith; in me shal be no lak." |
| "Now thanne, put in thyn hand doun by my bak," |
| Seyde this man, "and grope wel bihynde. |
| Bynethe my buttok there shaltow fynde |
| A thyng that I have hyd in pryvetee." |
| 480 | "A!" thoghte this frere, "That shal go with me!" |
| And doun his hand he launcheth to the clifte, |
| In hope for to fynde there a yifte. |
| And whan this sike man felte this frere |
| Aboute his tuwel grope there and heere, |
| 485 | Amydde his hand he leet the frere a fart, |
| Ther nys no capul, drawynge in a cart, |
| That myghte have lete a fart of swich a soun. |
| The frere up stirte as dooth a wood leoun, - |
| "A! false cherl," quod he, "for Goddes bones! |
| 490 | This hastow for despit doon for the nones. |
| Thou shalt abye this fart, if that I may!" |
| His meynee, whiche that herden this affray, |
| Cam lepynge in and chaced out the frere; |
| And forth he gooth, with a ful angry cheere, |
| 495 | And fette his felawe, ther as lay his stoor. |
| He looked as it were a wilde boor; |
| He grynte with his teeth, so was he wrooth. |
| A sturdy paas doun to the court he gooth, |
| Wher as ther woned a man of greet honour, |
| 500 | To whom that he was alwey confessour. |
| This worthy man was lord of that village. |
| This frere cam as he were in a rage, |
| Where as this lord sat etyng at his bord; |
| Unnethes myghte the frere speke a word, |
| 505 | Til atte laste he seyde, "God yow see!" |
| This lord gan looke, and seide, "Benedicitee! |
| What, frere John, what maner world is this? |
| I se wel that som thyng ther is amys; |
| Ye looken as the wode were ful of thevys. |
| 510 | Sit doun anon, and tel me what youre grief is, |
| And it shal been amended, if I may." |
|
"I have," quod he, "had a despit this day, |
| God yelde yow, adoun in youre village, |
| That in this world is noon so povre a page |
| 515 | That he nolde have abhomynacioun |
| Of that I have receyved in youre toun. |
| And yet ne greveth me nothyng so soore, |
| As that this olde cherl with lokkes hoore |
| Blasphemed hath oure hooly covent eke." |
| 520 | "Now, maister," quod this lord, "I yow biseke, - " |
| "No maister, sire," quod he, "but servitour, |
| Thogh I have had in scole that honour. |
| God liketh nat that 'Raby' men us calle, |
| Neither in market ne in youre large halle." |
| 525 | "No fors," quod he, "but tel me al youre grief." |
| "Sire," quod this frere, "and odious meschief |
| This day bityd is to myn ordre and me, |
| And so, per consequens, to ech degree |
| Of hooly chirche - God amende it soone! |
| 530 | "Sire," quod the lord, "ye woot what is to doone. |
| Distempre yow noght, ye be my confessour; |
| Ye been the salt of the erthe and the savour. |
| For Goddes love, youre pacience ye holde! |
| Tel me youre grief." And he anon hym tolde, |
| 535 | As ye han herd biforn - ye woot wel what. |
| The lady of the hous ay stille sat |
| Til she had herd what the frere sayde. |
| "Ey, Goddes mooder," quod she, "Blisful mayde! |
| Is ther oght elles? telle me feithfully." |
| 540 |
"Madame," quod he, "how thynke ye herby?" |
| "How that me thynketh?" quod she, "So God me speede, |
| I seye, a cherl hath doon a cherles dede. |
| What shold I seye? God lat hym nevere thee! |
| His sike heed is ful of vanytee; |
| 545 | I holde hym in a manere frenesye." |
| "Madame," quod he, "by God, I shal nat lye |
| But in on oother wyse may be wreke, |
| I shal disclaundre hym over al ther I speke, |
| This false blasphemour, that charged me |
| 550 | To parte that wol nat departed be, |
| To every man yliche, with meschaunce!" |
| The lord sat stille as he were in a traunce, |
| And in his herte he rolled up and doun, |
| "How hadde this cherl ymaginacioun |
| 555 | To shewe swich a probleme to the frere? |
| Nevere erst er now herde I of swich mateere. |
| I trowe the devel putte it in his mynde. |
| In ars-metrike shal ther no man fynde, |
| Biforn this day, of swich a question. |
| 560 | Who sholde make a demonstracion |
| That every man sholde have yliche his part |
| As of the soun or savour of a fart? |
| O nyce, proude cherl, I shrewe his face! |
| Lo, sires," quod the lord, "with harde grace! |
| 565 | Who evere herde of swich a thyng er now? |
| To every man ylike, tel me how? |
| It is an inpossible, it may nat be. |
| Ey, nyce cherl, God lete him nevere thee! |
| The rumblynge of a fart, and every soun, |
| 570 | Nis but of eir reverberacioun, |
| And evere it wasteth litel and litel awey. |
| Ther is no man kan deemen, by my fey, |
| If that it were departed equally. |
| What, lo, my cherl, lo, yet how shrewedly |
| 575 | Unto my confessour to-day he spak! |
| I holde hym certeyn a demonyak! |
| Now ete youre mete, and lat the cherl go pleye; |
| Lat hym go honge hymself a devel weye!" |
|
"Tel," quod the lord, "and thou shalt have anon |
| A gowne-clooth, by God and by Seint John!" |
| "My lord," quod he, "whan that the weder is fair, |
| 590 | Withouten wynd or perturbynge of air, |
| Lat brynge a cartwheel heere into this halle; |
| But looke that it have his spokes alle, - |
| Twelve spokes hath a cartwheel comunly. |
| And bryng me thanne twelve freres. Woot ye why? |
| 595 | For thrittene is a covent, as I gesse. |
| Youre confessour heere, for his worthynesse, |
| Shal parfoune up the nombre of his covent, |
| Thanne shal they knele doun, by oon assent, |
| And to every spokes ende, in this manere, |
| 600 | Ful sadly leye his nose shal a frere. |
| Youre noble confessour - there God hym save! - |
| Shal holde his nose upright under the nave. |
| Thanne shal this cherl, with bely stif and toght |
| As any tabour, hyder been ybroght; |
| 605 | And sette hym on the wheel right of this cart. |
| Upon the nave, and make hym lete a fart. |
| And ye shul seen, up peril of my lyf, |
| By preeve which that is demonstratif, |
| That equally the soun of it wol wende, |
| 610 | And eke the stynk, unto the spokes ende. |
| Save that this worthy man, youre confessour, |
| By cause he is a man of greet honour, |
| Shal have the firste fruyt, as resoun is. |
| The noble usage of freres yet is this, |
| 615 | The worthy men of hem shul first be served; |
| And certeinly he hath it well disserved. |
| He hath to-day taught us so muche good |
| With prechyng in the pulpit the he stood, |
| That I may vouche sauf, I sey for me, |
| 620 | He hadde the firste smel of fartes thre; |
| And so wolde al his covent hardily, |
| He bereth hym so faire and hoolily." |
| The lord, the lady, and ech man, save the frere, |
| Seyde that Jankyn spak, in this matere, |
| 625 | As wel as Euclide dide or Ptholomee. |
| Touchynge the cherl, they seyde, subtiltee |
| And heigh wit made hym speken as he spak; |
| He nys no fool, ne no demonyak. |
| And Jankyn hath ywonne a newe gowne. - |
| 630 | My tale is doon; we been almost at towne. |
