That never was ther no word hem betwene Of jalousie, ne of non other tene.

Thus endeth Palamon and Emelie; And God save all this fayre compagnie.

THE MILLERES PROLOGUE.

WHAN that the Knight had thus his tale told,
In all the compagnie n' as ther yong ne old,
That he ne said it was a noble storie,
And worthy to be drawen to memorie;
And namely the gentiles everich on.
Our hoste lough and swore, "So mote I gon,
This goth aright; unbokeled is the male;
Let see now who shal tell another tale:
For trewely this game is wel begonne.
Now telleth ye, sire Monk, if that ye conne,
Somwhat to quiten with the knightes tale."

The Miller that for-dronken was all pale,
So that unethes upon his hors he sat,
He n'old avalen neither hood ne hat,
Ne abiden no man for his curtesie,
But in Pilates vois he gan to crie,

And swore by armes, and by blood, and bones,
"I can a noble tale for the nones,
With which I wol now quite the knightes tale."

Our hoste saw that he was dronken of ale, And sayd; "Abide, Robin, my leve brother, Som better man shall tell us first another: Abide, and let us werken thriftily."

And therfore every gentil wight I pray,
For Goddes love as deme not that I say
Of evil entent, but that I mote reherse
Hir tales alle, al be they better or werse,
Or elles falsen som of my matere.

And therfore who so list it not to here,
Turne over the leef, and chese another tale,
For he shal find ynow bothe gret and smale,
Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse,
And eke moralite, and holiuesse.
Blameth not me, if that ye chese amis,
The Miller is a cherl, ye know wel this,
So was the Reve, (and many other mo)
And harlotrie they tolden bothe two.
Aviseth you now, and put me out of blame;
And eke men shuld not make ernest of game.

THE MILLERES TALE.

WHILOM ther was dwelling in Oxenforde
A riche gnof, that gestes helde to borde,
And of his craft he was a carpenter.
With him ther was dwelling a poure scoler,
Had lerned art, but all his fantasie
Was turned for to lerne astrologie,
And coude a certain of conclusions
To demen by interrogations,

If that men asked him in certain houres,
Whan that men shulde have drought or elles shoures:

Or if men asked him what shulde falle

Of every thing, I may not reken alle.

This clerk was cleped hendy Nicholas;

For I wol speke, or elles go my way."

Our hoste answered; "Tell on a devil way;
Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome." [some:
"Now herkeneth," quod the Miller, "all and
But first I make a protestatioun
That I am dronke, I know it by my soun:
And therfore if that I misspeke or say,

Wite it the ale of Southwerk, I you pray:
For I wol tell a legend and a lif
Both of a carpenter and of his wif,
How that a clerk hath set the wrightes cappe."
The Reve answerd and saide, "Stint thy clappe.
Let be thy lewed dronken harlotrie.
It is a sinne, and eke a gret folie
To apeiren any man, or him defame,
And eke to bringen wives in swiche a name.
Thou mayst ynough of other thinges sain."

This dronken Miller spake ful sone again,
And sayde; "Leve brother Osewold,
Who hath no wif, he is no cokewold.
But I say not therfore that thou art on;
Ther ben ful goode wives many on.
Why art thou angry with my tale now?
I have a wif parde as wel as thou,
Yet n' olde I, for the oxen in my plough,
Taken upon me more than ynough
As demen of myself that I am on;
I wol beleven wel that I am non.
An husbond shulde not ben inquisitif
Of Goddes privite, ne of his wif.

So he may finden Goddes foison there,
Of the remenant nedeth not to enquere.'
What shuld I more say, but this Millere
He n'olde his wordes for no man forbere,
But told his cherles tale in his manere,
Me thinketh, that I shal reherse it here.

And therto he was slie and ful prive,
And like a maiden meke for to se.
A chambre had he in that hostelrie
Alone withouten any compagnie,
Ful fetisly ydight with herbes sote,
And he himself was swete as is the rote
Of licoris, or any setewale.

His alinageste, and bokes grete and smale,
His astrelabre, longing for his art,
His augrim stones, layen faire apart
On shelves couched at his beddes hed,
His presse ycovered with a falding red.
And all about there lay a gay sautrie,
On which he made on nightes melodie,
So swetely, that all the chambre rong:
And Angelus ad virginem he song.
And after that he song the kinges note;
Ful often blessed was his mery throte.
And thus this swete clerk his time spent
After his frendes finding and his rent.

This carpenter had wedded new a wif,
Which that he loved more than his lif:
Of eightene yere she was I gesse of age.
Jalous he was, and held hire narwe in cage,
For she was wild and yonge, and he was old,
And demed himself belike a cokewold.
He knew not Caton, for his wit was rude,
That bade a man shulde wedde his similitude.
Men shulden wedden after hir estate,
For youthe and elde is often at debate.
But sithen he was fallen in the snare,
He most endure (as other folk) his care.
Fayre was this yonge wif, and therwithal
As any wesel hire body gent and smal.
A seint she wered, barred all of silk,

A barme-cloth eke as white as morwe milk

Upon hire lendes, ful of many a gore.
White was hire smok, and brouded all before
And eke behind on hire colere aboute
Of cole-black silk, within and eke withoute.
The tapes of hire white volupere
Were of the same suit of hire colere;
Hire fillet brode of silk, and set full hye:
And sikerly she had a likerous eye.
Ful smal ypulled were hire browes two,
And they were bent, and black as any slo.
She was wel more blisful on to see
Than is the newe perjenete tree;
And softer than the wolle is of a wether.

And by hire girdle heng a purse of lether,
Tasseled with silk, and perled with latoun.
In all this world to seken up and doun
Ther n'is no man so wise, that coude thenche
So gay a popelot, or swiche a wenche.
Ful brighter was the shining of hire hewe,
Than in the tour the noble yforged newe.
But of hire song, it was as loud and yerne,
As any swalow sitting on a berne.
Therto she coude skip, and make a game,
As any kid or calf folowing his dame.
Hire mouth was swete as braket or the meth,
Or bord of appels, laid in hay or heth.
Winsing she was, as is a joly colt,
Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt.
A broche she bare upon hire low colere,
As brode as is the bosse of a bokelere.
Hire shoon were laced on hire legges hie;
She was a primerole, a piggesnie,
For any lord to liggen in his bedde,
Or yet for any good yeman to wedle.
Now sire, and eft sire, so befall the cas,
That on a day this hendy Nicholas
Fel with the yonge wif to rage and pleye,
While that her husbond was at Oseney,
As clerkes ben ful subtil and ful queint,
And prively he caught hire by the queint,
And sayde; Ywis, but if I have my will,
For derne love of thee, lemman, I spill."
And held hire faste by the haunch bones,
And sayde; "Lemman, love me wel at ones,
Or I wol dien, al so, God me save."

And she sprong as a colt doth in the trave; And with hire hed she writhed faste away, And sayde; "I wol not kisse thee by my fay. Why let be," (quod she) "let be, Nicholas, Or I wol crie out harrow and alas. Do way your hondes for your curtesie."

This Nicholas gan mercy for to crie, And spake so faire and profered him so fast, That she hire love him granted at the last, And swore hire oth by Seint Thomas of Kent, That she would ben at his commandement, Whan that she may hire leiser wel espie. "Myn husbond is so ful of jalousie, That but ye waiten wel, and be prive, I wot right wel I n'am but ded," quod she. "Ye mosteu be ful derne as in this cas."

Nay, therof care you not," quod Nicholas': "A clerk had litherly beset his while, But if he coude a carpenter begile." And thus they were accorded and ysworne To waite a time, as I have said beforne Whan Nicholas had don thus every del, And thacked hire about the lendes wel, He kissed hire swete, and taketh his sautrie, And plaieth fast, and maketh melodie.

Than fell it thus, that to the parish cherche (Of Cristes owen werkes for to werche) This good wif went upon a holy day: Hire forehed shone as bright as any day, So was it washen, whan she lete hire werk. Now was ther of that chirche a parish clerk, The which that was ycleped Absolon. Crulle was his here, and as the gold it shon, And strouted as a fanne large and brode; Ful streight and even lay his joly shode. His rode was red, his eyen grey as goos, With poules windowes corven on his shoos. In hosen red he went ful fetisly. Yclad he was ful smal and proprely, All in a kirtel of a light waget; Ful faire and thicke ben the pointes set. And therupon he had a gay surplise, As white as is the blosme upon the rise.

A mery child he was, so God me save;
Wel coud he leten blod, and clippe, and shave,
And make a chartre of lond, and a quitance.
In twenty manere coud he trip and dance,
(After the scole of Oxenforde tho)
And with his legges casten to and fro;
And playen songes on a smal ribible;
Therto he song somtime a loud quinible.
And as wel coud he play on a giterne.
In all the toun n'as brewhous ne taverne,
That he ne visited with his solas,
Ther as that any galliard tapstere was.
But soth to say he was somdel squaimous
Of farting, and of speche dangerous.

This Absolon, that joly was and gay,
Goth with a censer on the holy day,
Censing the wives of the parish faste;
And many a lovely loke he on hem caste,
And namely on this carpenteres wif:
To loke on hire he thought a mery lif.
She was so propre, and swete, and likerous.
I dare wel sain, if she had ben a mous,
And he a cat, he wolde hire hente anon.

This parish clerk, this joly Absolon,
Hath in his herte swiche a love-longing,
That of no wif toke he non offering;
For curtesie, he sayd, he n'olde non.

The Moone at night ful clere and brighte shon, And Absolon his giterne hath ytake, For paramours he thoughte for to wake. And forth he goth, jolif and amorous, Til he came to the carpenteres hous, A litel afte the cockes had ycrow, And dressed him up by a shot window, That was upon the carpenteres wal. He singeth in his vois gentil and smal; "Now, dere lady,-if thy wille be, I pray you that ye-wol rewe on me;" Ful wel accordant to his giterning.

This carpenter awoke, and herd him sing,
And spake unto his wif, and said anon,
"What, Alison, heres thou not Absolon,
That chanteth thus under our boures wal?
And she answerd hire husbond therwithal;
"Yes, God wot, John, I here him every del."
This passeth forth; what wol ye bet than wel?
Fro day to day this joly Absolon

So loveth hire, that him is wo-begon.
He waketh all the night, and all the day,

He kembeth his lockes brode, and made him gay.

He woeth hire by menes and brocage,
And swore he wolde ben hire owen page.

He singeth brokking as a nightingale.
He sent hire pinnes, methe, and spiced ale,
And wafres piping hot out of the glede:
And for she was of toun, he profered mede.
For som folk wol be wonnon for richesse,
And som for strokes, and som with gentillesse.
Somtime to shew his lightnesse and maistrie
He plaieth Herode on a skaffold hie.
But what availeth him as in this cas?
So loveth she this hendy Nicholas,
That Absolon may blow the buckes horne :
He ne had for his labour but a scorne.
And thus she maketh Absolon hire ape,
And all his ernest tourneth to a japė.
Ful soth is this proverbe, it is no lie;
Men say right thus alway; "The neighe slie
Maketh oft time the fer leef to be lothe."
For though that Absolon be wood or wrothe,
Because that he fer was from hire sight,
This neighe Nicholas stood in his light.

Now bere thee wel, thou hendy Nicholas,
For Absolon may waile and sing alas.
And so befell that on a Saturday,
This carpenter was gon to Osenay,
And hendy Nicholas and Alison
Accorded ben to this conclusion,
That Nicholas shal shapen him a wile
This sely jalous husbond to begile;
And if so were the game went aright,
She shuld slepe in his armes alle night,
For this was hire desire and his also.
And right anon, withouten wordes mo,
This Nicholas no lenger wolde tarie,
But doth ful soft unto his chambre carie
Both mete and drinke for a day or twey.
And to hire husbond bad hire for to sey,
If that he axed after Nicholas,

She shuld say, she n'iste not wher he was;
Of all the day she saw him not with eye.
She trowed he was in som maladie,
For for no crie hire maiden coud him calle
He n'olde answer, for nothing that might fallc.
Thus passeth forth all thilke Saturday,
That Nicholas still in his chambre lay,
And ete, and slept, and did what him list
Till Sonday, that the Sonne goth to rest.

This sely carpenter hath gret mervaile
Of Nicholas, or what thing might him aile,
And said; "I am adrad by Seint Thomas
It stondeth not aright with Nicholas :
God shilde that he died sodenly.
This world is now ful tikel sikerly.
I saw to-day a corps yborne to cherche,
That now on Monday last I saw him werche.

"Go up" (quoth he unto his knave) "anon; Clepe at his dore, or knocke with a ston: Loke how it is, and tell me boldely."

This knave goth him up ful sturdely,
And at the chambre dore while that he stood,
He cried and knocked as that he were wood :
"What how? what do ye, maister Nicholay?
How may ye slepen all the longe day?".
But all for nought, he herde not a word.
An hole he fond ful low upon the bord,
Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe,
And at that hole he loked in ful depe,
And at the last he had of him a sight.
This Nicholas sat ever gaping upright,
As he had kyked on the newe Mone.

Adoun he goth, and telleth his maister sone,

In what array he saw this ilke man.
This carpenter to blissen him began,
And said; Now helpe us Seinte Frideswide.
A man wote litel what shal him betide.
This man is fallen with his astronomie
In som woodnesse or in som agonie.

I thought ay wel how that it shulde be.
Men shulde not know of Goddes privetee.
Ya blessed be alway a lewed man,
That nought but only his beleve can.
So ferd another clerk with astronomie;
He walked in the felds for to prie

Upon the sterres, what there shuld befalle,
Till he was in a marlepit yfalle.

He saw not that.

But yet by Seint Thomas
Me reweth sore of hendy Nicholas:
He shal be rated of his studying,
If that I may, by Jesus, Heven king.

"Get me a staf, that I may underspore
While that thou, Robin, hevest of the dore:
He shal out of his studying, as I gesse."
And to the chambre dore he gan him dresse.
His knave was a strong carl for the nones,
And by the haspe he haf it of at ones;
Into the flore the dore fell anon.

This Nicholas sat ay as stille as a ston,
And ever he gaped upward into the eire..

This carpenter wead he were in despeire,
And hent him by the shulders mightily,
And shoke him hard, and cried spitously;
"What, Nicholas? what how man? loke adoun :
Awake, and thinke on Cristes passioun.

I crouche thee from elves, and from wightes."
Therwith the nightspel said he anon rightes,
On foure halves of the hous aboute,
And on the threswold of the dore withoute.
"Jesu Crist, and Seint Benedight,
Blisse this hous from every wicked wight,
Fro the nightes mare, the wite Pater-noster;
Wher wonest thou Seint Peters suster?"

And at the last this hendy Nicholas
Gan for to siken sore, and said; "Alas!
Shal all the world be lost eftsones now?”

This carpenter answered; "What saiest thou? What? thinke on God, as we do, men that swinke," This Nicholas answered; "Fetch me a drinke; And after wol I speke in privetee

Of certain thing that toucheth thee and me:
I wol tell it non other man certain."

This carpenter goth doun, and cometh again,
And brought of mighty ale a large quart;

And whan that eche of hem had dronken his part,
This Nicholas his dore faste shette,
And doun the carpenter by him he sette,
And saide; "" John, min hoste lefe and dere,
Thou shalt upon thy trouthe swere me here,
That to no wight thou shalt my conseil wrey:
For it is Cristes conseil that I say,
And if thou tell it man, thou art forlore:
For this vengeance thou shalt have therefore,
That if thou wreye me, thou shalt be wood."

"Nay, Crist forbede it for his holy blood," Quod tho this sely man; "I am no labbe, Ne though I say it, I n'am not lefe to gabbe. Say what thou wolt, I shal it never telle To child ne wif, by him that harwed Helle." "Now, John," (quod Nicholas) " I wol not lie, I have yfounde in min astrologie,

As I have loked in the Moone bright,
That now on Monday next, at quarter night,

Shal fall a rain, and that so wild and wood
That half so gret was never Noes flood.
This world" (he said) "in lesse than in an houre
Shal al be dreint, so hidous is the shoure:
Thus shal mankinde drenche, and lese hir lif."
This carpenter answerd; "Alas my wif!
And shal she drenche? alas min Alisoun!"
For sorwe of this he fell almost adoun,"
And said; "Is ther no remedy in this cas?"
"Why yes, for God," quod hendy Nicholas;
"If thou wolt werken after lore and rede;
Thou maist not werken after thin owen hede.
For thus saith Salomon, that was ful trewe;
Werke all by conseil, and thou shalt not rewe.
And if thou werken wolt by good conseil,
I undertake, withouten mast or seyl,
Yet shal I saven hire, and thee and me.
Hast thou not herd how saved was Noe,
Whan that our Lord had warned him beforne,
That all the world with water shuld be lorne?"
"Yes," (quod this carpenter) "ful yore ago."
"Hast thou not herd" (quod Nicholas)" also
The sorwe of Noe with his felawship,
Or that he might get his wif to ship?
Him had he lever, I dare wel undertake,
At thilke time, than all his wethers blake,
That she had had a ship hireself alone.

And therfore wost thou what is best to done?
This axeth hast, and of an hastif thing
Men may not preché and maken tarying.
Anon go get us fast into this in

A kneding trough or elles a kemelyn,

For eche of us; but loke that they ben large,
In which we mowen swimme as in a barge:
And have therin vitaille suffisant
But for a day; fie on the remenant;

The water shall aslake and gon away

Abouten prime upon the nexte day.

But Robin may not wete of this, thy knave,
Ne eke thy mayden Gille I may not save:
Axe not why: for though thou axe me,
I wol not tellen Goddes privetee.
Sufficeth thee, but if thy wittes madde,
To have as gret a grace as Noe hadde.
Thy wif shal I wel saven out of doute.
Go now thy way, and spede thee hereaboute.
"But whan thou hast for hire, and thee, and me,
Ygeten us these kneding tubbes thre,
Than shalt thou heng hem in the roofe ful hie,
That no man of our purveyance espie:
And whan thou hast don thus as I have said,
And bast our vitaille faire in hem ylaid,
And eke an axe to smite the cord a-two
Whan that the water cometh, that we may go,
And breke an hole on high upon the gable
Unto the gardin ward, over the stable,
That we may frely passen forth our way,
Whan that the grete shoure is gon away.
Than shal thou swim as mery, I undertake,
As doth the white doke after hire drake:
Than wol I clepe, 'How Alison, how John,
Be mery: for the flood wol passe anon.'
And thou wolt sain, Haile maister Nicholay,
Good morwe, I see thee wel, for it is day.'
And than shall we be lordes all our lif
Of all the world, as Noe and his wif.
But of o thing I warne thee ful right,
Be wel avised on that ilke night,
That we ben entred into shippes bord,
That non of us ne speke not o word,

Ne clepe ne crie, but be in his praiere, For it is Goddes owen heste dere.

"Thy wif and thou moste hangen fer a-twinne, For that betwixen you shal be no sinne, No more in loking than ther shal in dede. This ordinance is said; go, God thee spede. To-morwe at night, whan men ben all aslepe, Into our kneding tubbes wol we crepe, And sitten ther, abiding Goddes grace, Go now thy way, I have no lenger space To make of this no lenger sermoning: Men sain thus: 'Send the wise, and say nothing: Thou art so wise, it nedeth thee nought teche. Go, save our lives, and that I thee beseche." This sely carpenter goth forth his way, Ful oft he said "Alas, and wala wa," And to his wif he told his privetee, And she was ware, and knew it bet than he What all this queinte cast was for to sey. But natheles she ferde as she wold dey, And said; "Alas! go forth thy way anon. Helpe us to scape, or we be ded eche on. I am thy trewe veray wedded wif; Go, dere spouse, and helpe to save our lif." Lo, what a gret thing is affection, Men may die of imagination, So depe may impression be take. This sely carpenter beginneth quake: Him thinketh veraily that he may see Noes flood comen walwing as the see To drenchen Alison, his hony dere. He wepeth, waileth, maketh sory chere; He siketh, with ful many a sory swough. He goth and geteth him a kneding trough, And after a tubbe, and a kemeliu, And prively he sent hem to his in: And heng hem in the roof in privetee, His owen hond than made he ladders three, To climben by the renges and the stalkes Unto the tubbes honging in the balkes; And vitialled bothe kemelin, trough and tubbe, With bred and chese, and good ale in a jubbe, Sufficing right ynow as for a day.

But er that he had made all this array,
He sent his knave, and eke his wenche also
Upon his nede to London for to go.
And on the Monday, whan it drew to night,
He shette his dore, withouten candel light,
And dressed all thing as it shulde bee.
And shortly up they clomben alle three.
They sitten stille wel a furlong way.
"Now, Pater noster, clum," said Nicholay,
And "Clum," quod John, and "Clum," said Alison:
This carpenter said his devotion,
And still he sit, and biddeth his praiere,
Awaiting on the rain, if he it here.

The dede slepe, for wery besinesse,
Fell on this carpenter, right as I gesse,
Abouten curfew-time, or litel more.
For travaille of his gost he groneth sore,
And eft he routeth, for his hed mislay.
Doun of the ladder stalketh Nicholay,
And Alison ful soft adoun hire spedde.
Withouten wordes mo they went to bedde,
Ther as the carpenter was wont to lie;
Ther was the revel, and the melodie.
And thus lith Alison, and Nicholas,
In besinesse of mirthe and in solas,
Til that the bell of laudes gan to ring,
And freres in the chancel gon to sing.

This parish clerk, this amorous Absolon,
That is for love alway so wo-begon,
Upon the Monday was at Osenay
With compagnie, him to disport and play;
And asked upon cas a cloisterer
Ful prively after John the carpenter;
And he drew him apart out of the chirche.
He said, "I n'ot; I saw him not here wirche
Sith Saturday; I trow that he be went
For timbre, ther our abbot hath him sent.
For he is wont for timbre for to go,
And dwellen at the Grange a day or two:
Or elles he is at his hous certain,
Wher that he be, I cannot sothly sain."

This Absolon ful joly was and light,
And thoughte, now is time to wake al night,
For sikerly, I saw him nat stiring

About his dore, sin day began to spring.
So mote I thrive, I shal at cockes crow
Ful prively go knocke at his window,
That stant ful low upon his boures wall:
To Alison wol I now tellen all
My love-longing; for yet I shall not misse,
That at the leste way I shal hire kisse.
Some maner comfort shal I have parfay,
My mouth hath itched all this longe day :
That is a signe of kissing at the leste.
All night me mette eke, I was at a feste.
Therfore I wol go slepe an houre or twey,
And all the night than wol I wake and pley."
Whan that the firste cocke hath crowe, anon
Up rist this joly lover Absolon,

And him arayeth gay, at point devise.
But first he cheweth grein and licorise,
To smellen sote, or he had spoke with here.
Under his tonge a trewe love he bere,
For therby wend he to ben gracious.
He cometh to the carpenteres hous,
And still he stant under the shot window;
Unto his brest it raught, it was so low;
And soft he cougheth with a semisoun.

"What do ye honycombe, swete Alisoun?
My faire bird, my swete sinamome.
Awaketh, lemman min, and speketh to me.
Ful litel thinken ye upon my wo,
That for your love I swete ther as I go.
No wonder though that I swelte and swete,
I mourne as doth a lamb after the tete.
Ywis, lemman, I have swiche love-longing,
That like a turtel trewe is my mourning.
I may not ete no more than a maid."

"Go fro the window, jacke fool," she said: "As helpe me God, it wol not be, compame. I love another, or elles I were to blame, Wel bet than thee by Jesu, Absolon Go forth thy way, or I wol cast a ston; And let me slepe; a twenty divel way." "Alas!" (quod Absolon) " and wala wa! That trewe love was ever so yvel besette: Than kisse me, sin that it may be no bette, For Jesus love, and for the love of me.". "Wilt thou then go thy way therwith?" quod she. "Ya certes, lemman," quod this Absolon. "Than make thee redy," (quod she) "I come anon." This Absolon doun set him on his knees, And saide; "I am a lord at all degrees: For after this I hope ther cometh more ; Lemman, thy grace, and, swete bird, thyn ore." The window she undoth, and that in haste. [faste. "Have don," (quod she) "come of, and spede thee

Lest that our neigheboures thee espie."

This Absolon gan wipe his mouth ful drie.
Derke was the night, as pitch or as the cole,
And at the window she put out hire hole,
And Absolon him felle ne bet ne wers,
But with his mouth he kist hire naked ers
Ful savorly, er he was ware of this.

Abak he sterte, and thought it was amis,
For wel he wist a woman hath no berd.
He felt a thing all rowe, and long yherd,
And saide; "Fy, alas! what have I do?

"Te he," quod she, and clap' the window to; And Absolon goth forth a sory pas.

"A berd, a berd," said hendy Nicholas; "By goddes corpus, this goth faire and wel." This sely Absolon herd every del,

And on his lippe he gan for anger bite;
And to himself he said, "I shal thee quite."
Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes
With dust, with sond, with straw, with cloth, with
But Absolon? that saith full oft, "Alas! [chippes,
My soule betake I unto Sathanas,

But me were lever than all this toun" (quod he)
"Of this despit awroken for to be.
Alas! alas! that I ne had yblent."
His hote love is cold, and all yqueint.
For fro that time that he had kist hire ers,
Of paramours ne raught he not a kers,
For he was heled of his maladie;
Ful often paramours he gan defie,
And wepe as doth a child that is ybete.
A softe pas he went him over the strete
Until a smith, men callen dan Gerveis,
That in his forge smithed plow-harneis;
He sharpeth share and cultre besily.
This Absolon knocketh all esily,
And said;

"Undo, Gerveis, and that anon."
"What, who art thou?" "It am I Absolon."
"What? Absolon, what? Cristes swete tre,
Why rise ye so rath? ey benedicite,

What eileth you? some gay girle, God it wote,
Hath brought you thus upon the viretote:
By Seint Neote, ye wote wel what I mene.'

This Absolon ne raughte not a bene
Of all his play; no word again he yaf.
He hadde more tawe on his distaf
Than Gerveis knew, and saide; "Friend so dere,
That hote culter in the cheminee here
As lene it me, I have therwith to don :
I wol it bring again to thee ful sone."
Gerveis answered; "Certes, were it gold,
Or in a poke nobles all untold,

Thou shuldest it have, as I am a trewe smith.
Ey, Cristes foot, what wol ye don therwith ?".
Therof," quod Absolou, "be as it may;

I shal wel tellen thee another day :"
And caught the culter by the colde stele,
Ful soft out at the dore he gan to stele,
And went unto the carpenteres wall.
He coughed first, and knocked therwithall
Upon the window, right as he did er.

This Alison answered; "Who is ther
That knocketh so? I warrant him a thefe."
"Nay, nay," (quod he) "God wot, my swete lefe,
I am thin Absolon, thy dereling.

Of gold" (quod he) "I have thee brought a ring,
My mother yave it me, so God me save,
Ful fine it is, and therto wel ygrave:
This wol I yeven thee, if thou me kissę."
This Nicholas was risen for to pisse,