|
"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. |
|
| "I have," said he, "insulted been today- |
| May God reward you!- down in your village. |
| And in this world is not so poor a page |
| 515 | As would not feel the insult, if 'twere thrown |
| At him, that I have suffered in your town. |
| Yet nothing grieves me in this matter more |
| Than that this peasant, with his long locks hoar, |
| Has thus blasphemed our holy convent too." |
| 520 | "Now, master," said his lordship, "I pray you, -" |
| "No master, sir," said he, "but servitor, |
| Though true, I had in school such honour, sir. |
| But rabbi- God's not pleased that men so call |
| Us, in the public square or your wide hall." |
| 525 | "No matter," said he, "tell me all your grief." |
| "Sir," said this friar, "an odious mischief |
| Was this day done to my order and me, |
| And so, per consequens, to each degree |
| Of Holy Church, may God it soon amend!" |
| 530 | "Sir," said the lord, "the story I attend. |
| As my confessor, pray your wrath control; |
| Salt of the earth are you- the savour whole. |
| For love of God, I beg you patience hold; |
| Tell me your grievance." And anon he told |
| 535 | As you have heard before, you know well what. |
|
