|
This sely Absolon herde every deel, |
| And on his lippe he gan for anger byte, |
| And to hymself he seyde, "I shall thee quyte." |
| Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes |
| 640 | With dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with chippes, |
| But Absolon, that seith ful ofte, "Allas!" |
| My soule bitake I unto Sathanas, |
| But me were levere than al this toun," quod he, |
| "Of this despit awroken for to be. |
| 645 | Allas," quod he, "allas, I ne hadde ybleynt!" |
| His hoote love was coold and al yqueynt; |
| For fro that tyme that he hadde kist her ers, |
| Of paramours he sette nat a kers; |
| For he was heeled of his maladie. |
| 650 | Ful ofte paramours he gan deffie, |
| And weep as dooth a child that is ybete. |
| A softe paas he wente over the strete |
| Until a smyth men cleped daun Gerveys, |
| That in his forge smythed plough harneys; |
| 655 | He sharpeth shaar and kultour bisily. |
| This Absolon knokketh al esily, |
| And seyde, "Undo, Gerveys, and that anon." |
| "What, who artow?" "It am I, Absolon." |
| "What, Absolon! For Cristes sweete tree, |
| 660 | Why rise ye so rathe? Ey, benedicitee! |
| What eyleth yow? Som gay gerl, God it woot, |
| Hath broght yow thus upon the viritoot. |
| By seinte Note, ye woot wel what I mene." |
| This Absolon ne roghte nat a bene |
| 665 | Of all his pley; no word agayn he yaf; |
| He hadde moore tow on his distaf |
| Than Gerveys knew, and seyde, "Freend so deere, |
| That hoote kultour in the chymenee heere, |
| As lene it me, I have therwith to doone, |
| 670 | And I wol brynge it thee agayn ful soone." |
| Gerveys answerde, "Certes, were it gold, |
| Or in a poke nobles alle untold, |
| Thou sholdest have, as I am trewe smyth. |
| Ey, Cristes foo! What wol ye do therwith?" |
| 675 | "Therof," quod Absolon, "be as be may. |
| I shal wel telle it thee to-morwe day" - |
| And caughte the kultour by the colde stele, |
| Ful softe out at the dore he gan to stele, |
| And wente unto the carpenteris wal. |
| 680 | He cogheth first, and knokketh therwithal |
| Upon the wyndowe, right as he dide er. |
|
|
This hapless Absalom, he heard that yell, |
| And on his lip, for anger, he did bite; |
| And to himself he said, "I will requite!" |
| Who vigorously rubbed and scrubbed his lips |
| 640 | With dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips, |
| But Absalom, and often cried "Alas! |
| My soul I give now unto Sathanas, |
| For rather far than own this town," said he, |
| "For this despite, it's well revenged I'd be. |
| 645 | Alas," said he, "from her I never blenched!" |
| His hot love was grown cold, aye and all quenched; |
| For, from the moment that he'd kissed her arse, |
| For paramours he didn't care a curse, |
| For he was healed of all his malady; |
| 650 | Indeed all paramours he did defy, |
| And wept as does a child that has been beat. |
| With silent step he went across the street |
| Unto a smith whom men called Dan Jarvis, |
| Who in his smithy forged plow parts, that is |
| 655 | He sharpened shares and coulters busily. |
| This Absalom he knocked all easily, |
| And said: "Unbar here, Jarvis, for I come." |
| "What! Who are you?" "It's I, it's Absalom." |
| "What! Absalom! For Jesus Christ's sweet tree, |
| 660 | Why are you up so early? Ben'cite! |
| What ails you now, man? Some gay girl, God knows, |
| Has brought you on the jump to my bellows; |
| By Saint Neot, you know well what I mean." |
| This Absalom cared not a single bean |
| 665 | For all this play, nor one word back he gave; |
| He'd more tow on his distaff, had this knave, |
| Than Jarvis knew, and said he: "Friend so dear, |
| This red-hot coulter in the fireplace here, |
| Lend it to me, I have a need for it, |
| 670 | And I'll return it after just a bit." |
| Jarvis replied: "Certainly, were it gold |
| Or a purse filled with yellow coins untold, |
| Yet should you have it, as I am true smith; |
| But eh, Christ's foe! What will you do therewith?" |
| 675 | "Let that," said Absalom, "be as it may; |
| I'll tell you all tomorrow, when it's day"- |
| And caught the coulter then by the cold steel |
| And softly from the smithy door did steal |
| And went again up to the wood-wright's wall. |
| 680 | He coughed at first, and then he knocked withal |
| Upon the window, as before, with care. |
|
