|
Whan ended was the lyf of Seinte Cecile, |
| Er we hadde riden fully fyve mile, |
| A Boghtoun under blee us gan atake |
| A man that clothed was in clothes blake, |
5 | And undernethe he hadde a whyt surplys. |
| His hakeney, that was al pomely grys, |
| So swatte that it wonder was to see; |
| It semed as he had priked miles three. |
| The hors eek that his yeman rood upon |
10 | So swatte that unnethe myghte it gon. |
| Aboute the peytrel sood the foom ful hye; |
| He was of foom al flekked as a pye. |
| A male tweyfoold on his croper lay; |
| It semed that he caried lite array. |
15 | Al light for somer rood this worthy man, |
| And in myn herte wondren I bigan |
| What that he was, til that I understood |
| How that his cloke was sowed to his good; |
| For which, whan I hadde longe avysed me, |
20 | I demed hym som chanoun for to be. |
| His hat heeng at his bak doun by a laas, |
| For he hadde riden moore than trot or paas; |
| He hadde ay priked lik as he were wood. |
| A clote-leef he hadde under his hood |
25 | For swoot, and for to keep his heed from heete. |
| But it was joye for to seen hym swete! |
| His forheed dropped as a stillatorie, |
| Were ful of plantayne and of paritorie. |
| And whan that he was come, he ban to crye, |
30 | "God save," quod he, "this joly compaignye! |
| Faste have I priked," quod he, "for youre sake, |
| By cause that I woldeyow atake, |
| To riden in this myrie compaignye." |
| His yeman eek was ful of curteisye, |
35 | And seyde, "Sires, now in the morwe-tyde |
| Out of youre hostelrie I saugh yow ryde, |
| And warned heer my lord and my soverayn, |
| Which that to ryden with yow is ful fayn |
| For his desport; he loveth daliaunce. |
40 |
Freend, for thy warnyng God yeve thee good chaunce!" |
| Thanne seyde oure Hoost, "for certein it wolde seme |
| Thy lord were wys, and so I may wel deme. |
| He is ful jocunde also, dar I leye! |
| Can he oght telle a myrie tale or tweye, |
45 | With which he glade may his compaignye?" |
| "Who, sire? My lord? Ye, ye, withouten lye, |
| He kan of murthe and eek of jolitee |
| Nat but ynough: also, sire, trusteth me, |
| And ye hym knewe as wel as do I, |
50 | Ye wolde wondre how wel and craftily |
| He koude werke, and that in sondry wise. |
| He hath take on hym many a greet emprise, |
| Which were ful hard for any that is heere |
| To brynge aboute, but they of hym it leere. |
55 | As hoomly as he rit amonges yow, |
| If ye hym knewe, it wolde be for youre prow. |
| Ye wolde nat forgoon his aqueyntaunce |
| For muchel good, I dar leye in balaunce |
| Al that I have in my possessioun. |
60 | He is a man of heigh discrecioun; |
| I warne yow wel, he is a passyng man." |
|
"Wel," quod oure Hoost, "I pray thee tel me than, |
| Is he a clerk, or noon? telle what he is." |
| "Nay, he is gretter than a clerk, ywis," |
65 | Seyde this yeman, and in wordes fewe, |
| Hoost, of his craft somwhat I wol yow shewe. |
| I seye, my lord kan swich subtilitee -- |
| But al his craft ye may nat wite at me, |
| And somwhat helpe I yet to his wirkyng -- |
70 | That al this ground on which we been ridyng, |
| Til that we come to Caunterbury toun, |
| He koude al clene turne it up-so-doun, |
| And pave it al of silver and of gold." |
|
And whan this yeman hadde this tale ytold |
75 | Unto oure Hoost, he seyde, "Benedicitee! |
| This thyng is wonder merveillous to me, |
| Syn that thy lord is of so heigh prudence, |
| By cause of which men sholde hym reverence, |
| That of his worshipe rekketh he so lite. |
80 | His overslope nys nat worth a myte, |
| As in effect, to hym, so moot I go! |
| It is al baudy and totore also. |
| Why is thy lord so sluttissh, I the preye, |
| And is of power bettre clooth to beye, |
85 | Of that his dede accorde with thy speche? |
| Telle me that, and that I thee biseche." |
| "Why?" quod this yeman, "wherto axe ye me? |
| God help me so, for he shal nevere thee! |
| (But I wol nat avowe that I seye, |
90 | And therfore keepe it secree, I yow preye.) |
| He is to wys, in feith, as I bileeve. |
| That that is overdoon, it wol nat preeve |
| Aright, as clerkes seyn; it is a vice. |
| Wherfore in that I holde hym lewed and nyce. |
95 | For whan a man hath over-greet a wit, |
| Ful oft hym happeth to mysusen it. |
| So dooth my lord, and that me greveth soore; |
| God it amende! I kan sey yow namoore." |
|
"Ther-of no fors, good yeman," quod oure Hoost; |
100 | "Syn of the konnyng of thy lord thow woost, |
| Telle how he dooth, I pray thee hertely, |
| Syn that he is so crafty and so sly. |
| Where dwelle ye, if it to telle be?" |
| "In the suburbes of a toun," quod he, |
105 | Lurkynge in hernes and in lanes blynde, |
| Wheras this robbours and thise theves by kynde |
| Holden hir pryvee fereful residence, |
| As they that dar nat shewen hir presence; |
| So faren we, if I shal seye the sothe." |
110 | "Now," quod oure Hoost, "yit lat me talke to the. |
| Why artow so discoloured of thy face?" |
| "Peter! quod he, "God yeve it harde grace, |
| I am so used in the fyr to blowe |
| That it hath chaunged my colour, I trowe. |
115 | I am nat wont in no mirour to prie, |
| But swynke soore and lerne multiplie. |
| We blondren evere and pouren in the fir, |
| And for al that we faille of oure desir, |
| For evere we lakken oure conclusioun. |
120 | To muchel folk we doon illusioun, |
| And borwe gold, be it a pound or two, |
| Or ten, or twelve, or manye sommes mo, |
| And make hem wenen, at the leeste weye, |
| That of a pound we koude make tweye. |
125 | Yet is it fals, but ay we han good hope |
| It for to doon, and after it we grope. |
| But that science is so fer us biforn, |
| We mowen nat, although we hadden it sworn, |
| It overtake, it slit awey so faste. |
130 | It wole us maken beggers atte laste." |
| Whil this yeman was thus in his talkyng, |
| This Chanoun drough hym neer, and herde al thyng |
| Which that this yeman spak, for suspecioun |
| Of mennes speche evere hadde this Chanoun. |
135 | For Catoun seith that he that gilty is |
| Demeth alle thyng be spoke of hym, ywis. |
| That was the cause he gan so ny hym drawe |
| To his yeman, to herknen al his sawe. |
| And thus he seyde unto his yeman tho: |
140 | "Hoold thou thy pees, and spek no wordes mo, |
| For if thou do, thou shalt it deere abye. |
| Thou sclaundrest me heere in this compaignye, |
| And eek discoverest that thou sholdest hyde." |
| "Ye," quod oure Hoost, "telle on, what bityde. |
145 | Of al his thretyng rekke nat a myte!" |
|
"In feith," quod he, "namoore I do but lyte." |
| And whan this chanon saugh it wolde nat bee, |
| But his yeman wolde telle his pryvetee, |
| He fledde awey for verray sorwe and shame. |
150 | "A!" quod the yeman, "heere shal arise game; |
| Al that I kan anon now wol I telle. |
| Syn he is goon, the foule feend hym quelle! |
| For nevere heerafter wol I with hym meete |
| For peny ne for pound, I yow biheete. |
155 | He that me broghte first unto that game, |
| Er that he dye, sorwe have he and shame! |
| For it is ernest to me, by me feith; |
| That feele I wel, what so any man seith. |
| And yet, for al my smert and al my grief, |
160 | For al my sorwe, labour, and meschief, |
| I koude nevere leve it in no wise. |
| Now wolde God my wit myghte suffise |
| To tellen al that longeth to that art! |
| But nathelees yow wol I tellen part. |
165 | Syn that my lord is goon, I wol nat spare; |
| Swich thyng as that I knowe, I wol declare. |