THE PROLOGUE.

When that Aprilis, with his showers swoot*, *sweet

The drought of March hath pierced to the root,

And bathed every vein in such licour,

Of which virtue engender'd is the flower;

When Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath

Inspired hath in every holt* and heath *grove, forest

The tender croppes* and the younge sun *twigs, boughs

Hath in the Ram his halfe course y-run,

And smalle fowles make melody,

That sleepen all the night with open eye,

(So pricketh them nature in their corages*); *hearts, inclinations

Then longe folk to go on pilgrimages,

And palmers for to seeke strange strands,

To *ferne hallows couth* in sundry lands; *distant saints known*

And specially, from every shire's end

Of Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,

The holy blissful Martyr for to seek,

That them hath holpen*, when that they were sick. *helped

Befell that, in that season on a day,

In Southwark at the Tabard as I lay,

Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage

To Canterbury with devout corage,

At night was come into that hostelry

Well nine and twenty in a company

Of sundry folk, *by aventure y-fall *who had by chance fallen

In fellowship*, and pilgrims were they all, into company.*

That toward Canterbury woulde ride.

The chamber, and the stables were wide,

And *well we weren eased at the best.* *we were well provided

And shortly, when the sunne was to rest, with the best*

So had I spoken with them every one,

That I was of their fellowship anon,

And made forword* early for to rise, *promise

To take our way there as I you devise*. *describe, relate

But natheless, while I have time and space,

Ere that I farther in this tale pace,

Me thinketh it accordant to reason,

To tell you alle the condition

Of each of them, so as it seemed me,

And which they weren, and of what degree;

And eke in what array that they were in:

And at a Knight then will I first begin.

A KNIGHT there was, and that a worthy man,

That from the time that he first began

To riden out, he loved chivalry,

Truth and honour, freedom and courtesy.

Full worthy was he in his Lorde's war,

And thereto had he ridden, no man farre*, *farther

As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,

And ever honour'd for his worthiness

At Alisandre he was when it was won.

Full often time he had the board begun

Above alle nations in Prusse.

In Lettowe had he reysed,* and in Russe, *journeyed

No Christian man so oft of his degree.

In Grenade at the siege eke had he be

Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie.

At Leyes was he, and at Satalie,

When they were won; and in the Greate Sea

At many a noble army had he be.

At mortal battles had he been fifteen,

And foughten for our faith at Tramissene.

In listes thries, and aye slain his foe.

This ilke* worthy knight had been also *same

Some time with the lord of Palatie,

Against another heathen in Turkie:

And evermore *he had a sovereign price*. *He was held in very

And though that he was worthy he was wise, high esteem.*

And of his port as meek as is a maid.

He never yet no villainy ne said

In all his life, unto no manner wight.

He was a very perfect gentle knight.

But for to telle you of his array,

His horse was good, but yet he was not gay.

Of fustian he weared a gipon*, *short doublet

Alle *besmotter'd with his habergeon,* *soiled by his coat of mail.*

For he was late y-come from his voyage,

And wente for to do his pilgrimage.

With him there was his son, a younge SQUIRE,

A lover, and a lusty bacheler,

With lockes crulle* as they were laid in press. *curled

Of twenty year of age he was I guess.

Of his stature he was of even length,

And *wonderly deliver*, and great of strength. *wonderfully nimble*

And he had been some time in chevachie*, *cavalry raids

In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,

And borne him well, *as of so little space*, *in such a short time*

In hope to standen in his lady's grace.

Embroider'd was he, as it were a mead

All full of freshe flowers, white and red.

Singing he was, or fluting all the day;

He was as fresh as is the month of May.

Short was his gown, with sleeves long and wide.

Well could he sit on horse, and faire ride.

He coulde songes make, and well indite,

Joust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.

So hot he loved, that by nightertale* *night-time

He slept no more than doth the nightingale.

Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,

And carv'd before his father at the table.

A YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo'

At that time, for *him list ride so* *it pleased him so to ride*

And he was clad in coat and hood of green.

A sheaf of peacock arrows bright and keen

Under his belt he bare full thriftily.

Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly:

His arrows drooped not with feathers low;

And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.

A nut-head had he, with a brown visiage:

Of wood-craft coud* he well all the usage: *knew

Upon his arm he bare a gay bracer*, *small shield

And by his side a sword and a buckler,

And on that other side a gay daggere,

Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:

A Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.

An horn he bare, the baldric was of green:

A forester was he soothly* as I guess. *certainly

There was also a Nun, a PRIORESS,

That of her smiling was full simple and coy;

Her greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;

And she was cleped* Madame Eglentine. *called

Full well she sang the service divine,

Entuned in her nose full seemly;

And French she spake full fair and fetisly* *properly

After the school of Stratford atte Bow,

For French of Paris was to her unknow.

At meate was she well y-taught withal;

She let no morsel from her lippes fall,

Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.

Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep,

That no droppe ne fell upon her breast.

In courtesy was set full much her lest*. *pleasure

Her over-lippe wiped she so clean,

That in her cup there was no farthing* seen *speck

Of grease, when she drunken had her draught;

Full seemely after her meat she raught*: *reached out her hand

And *sickerly she was of great disport*, *surely she was of a lively

And full pleasant, and amiable of port, disposition*

And *pained her to counterfeite cheer *took pains to assume

Of court,* and be estately of mannere, a courtly disposition*

And to be holden digne* of reverence. *worthy

But for to speaken of her conscience,

She was so charitable and so pitous,* *full of pity

She woulde weep if that she saw a mouse

Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.

Of smalle houndes had she, that she fed

With roasted flesh, and milk, and *wastel bread.* *finest white bread*

But sore she wept if one of them were dead,

Or if men smote it with a yarde* smart: *staff

And all was conscience and tender heart.

Full seemly her wimple y-pinched was;

Her nose tretis;* her eyen gray as glass; *well-formed

Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;

But sickerly she had a fair forehead.

It was almost a spanne broad I trow;

For *hardily she was not undergrow*. *certainly she was not small*

Full fetis* was her cloak, as I was ware. *neat

Of small coral about her arm she bare

A pair of beades, gauded all with green;

And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,

On which was first y-written a crown'd A,

And after, *Amor vincit omnia.* *love conquers all*

Another Nun also with her had she,

[That was her chapelleine, and PRIESTES three.]

A MONK there was, a fair *for the mast'ry*, *above all others*

An out-rider, that loved venery*; *hunting

A manly man, to be an abbot able.

Full many a dainty horse had he in stable:

And when he rode, men might his bridle hear

Jingeling in a whistling wind as clear,

And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,

There as this lord was keeper of the cell.

The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet,

Because that it was old and somedeal strait

This ilke* monk let olde thinges pace, *same

And held after the newe world the trace.

He *gave not of the text a pulled hen,* *he cared nothing

That saith, that hunters be not holy men: for the text*

Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless;

Is like to a fish that is waterless;

This is to say, a monk out of his cloister.

This ilke text held he not worth an oyster;

And I say his opinion was good.

Why should he study, and make himselfe wood* *mad

Upon a book in cloister always pore,

Or swinken* with his handes, and labour, *toil

As Austin bid? how shall the world be served?

Let Austin have his swink to him reserved.

Therefore he was a prickasour* aright: *hard rider

Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight;

Of pricking* and of hunting for the hare *riding

Was all his lust,* for no cost would he spare. *pleasure

I saw his sleeves *purfil'd at the hand *worked at the end with a

With gris,* and that the finest of the land. fur called "gris"*

And for to fasten his hood under his chin,

He had of gold y-wrought a curious pin;

A love-knot in the greater end there was.

His head was bald, and shone as any glass,

And eke his face, as it had been anoint;

He was a lord full fat and in good point;

His eyen steep,* and rolling in his head, *deep-set

That steamed as a furnace of a lead.

His bootes supple, his horse in great estate,

Now certainly he was a fair prelate;

He was not pale as a forpined* ghost; *wasted

A fat swan lov'd he best of any roast.

His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.

A FRIAR there was, a wanton and a merry,

A limitour , a full solemne man.

In all the orders four is none that can* *knows

So much of dalliance and fair language.

He had y-made full many a marriage

Of younge women, at his owen cost.

Unto his order he was a noble post;

Full well belov'd, and familiar was he

With franklins *over all* in his country, *everywhere*

And eke with worthy women of the town:

For he had power of confession,

As said himselfe, more than a curate,

For of his order he was licentiate.

Full sweetely heard he confession,

And pleasant was his absolution.

He was an easy man to give penance,

*There as he wist to have a good pittance:* *where he know he would

For unto a poor order for to give get good payment*

Is signe that a man is well y-shrive.

For if he gave, he *durste make avant*, *dared to boast*

He wiste* that the man was repentant. *knew

For many a man so hard is of his heart,

He may not weep although him sore smart.

Therefore instead of weeping and prayeres,

Men must give silver to the poore freres.

His tippet was aye farsed* full of knives *stuffed

And pinnes, for to give to faire wives;

And certainly he had a merry note:

Well could he sing and playen *on a rote*; *from memory*

Of yeddings* he bare utterly the prize. *songs

His neck was white as is the fleur-de-lis.

Thereto he strong was as a champion,

And knew well the taverns in every town.

And every hosteler and gay tapstere,

Better than a lazar* or a beggere, *leper

For unto such a worthy man as he

Accordeth not, as by his faculty,

To have with such lazars acquaintance.

It is not honest, it may not advance,

As for to deale with no such pouraille*, *offal, refuse

But all with rich, and sellers of vitaille*. *victuals

And *ov'r all there as* profit should arise, *in every place where&

Courteous he was, and lowly of service;

There n'as no man nowhere so virtuous.

He was the beste beggar in all his house:

And gave a certain farme for the grant,

None of his bretheren came in his haunt.

For though a widow hadde but one shoe,

So pleasant was his In Principio,

Yet would he have a farthing ere he went;

His purchase was well better than his rent.

And rage he could and play as any whelp,

In lovedays ; there could he muchel* help. *greatly

For there was he not like a cloisterer,

With threadbare cope as is a poor scholer;

But he was like a master or a pope.

Of double worsted was his semicope*, *short cloak

That rounded was as a bell out of press.

Somewhat he lisped for his wantonness,

To make his English sweet upon his tongue;

And in his harping, when that he had sung,

His eyen* twinkled in his head aright, *eyes

As do the starres in a frosty night.

This worthy limitour was call'd Huberd.

A MERCHANT was there with a forked beard,

In motley, and high on his horse he sat,

Upon his head a Flandrish beaver hat.

His bootes clasped fair and fetisly*. *neatly

His reasons aye spake he full solemnly,

Sounding alway th' increase of his winning.

He would the sea were kept for any thing

Betwixte Middleburg and Orewell

Well could he in exchange shieldes* sell *crown coins

This worthy man full well his wit beset*; *employed

There wiste* no wight** that he was in debt, *knew **man

So *estately was he of governance* *so well he managed*

With his bargains, and with his chevisance*. *business contract

For sooth he was a worthy man withal,

But sooth to say, I n'ot* how men him call. *know not

A CLERK there was of Oxenford* also, *Oxford

That unto logic hadde long y-go*. *devoted himself

As leane was his horse as is a rake,

And he was not right fat, I undertake;

But looked hollow*, and thereto soberly**. *thin; **poorly

Full threadbare was his *overest courtepy*, *uppermost short cloak*

For he had gotten him yet no benefice,

Ne was not worldly, to have an office.

For him was lever* have at his bed's head *rather

Twenty bookes, clothed in black or red,

Of Aristotle, and his philosophy,

Than robes rich, or fiddle, or psalt'ry.

But all be that he was a philosopher,

Yet hadde he but little gold in coffer,

But all that he might of his friendes hent*, *obtain

On bookes and on learning he it spent,

And busily gan for the soules pray

Of them that gave him wherewith to scholay* *study

Of study took he moste care and heed.

Not one word spake he more than was need;

And that was said in form and reverence,

And short and quick, and full of high sentence.

Sounding in moral virtue was his speech,

And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.

A SERGEANT OF THE LAW, wary and wise,

That often had y-been at the Parvis,

There was also, full rich of excellence.

Discreet he was, and of great reverence:

He seemed such, his wordes were so wise,

Justice he was full often in assize,

By patent, and by plein* commission; *full

For his science, and for his high renown,

Of fees and robes had he many one.

So great a purchaser was nowhere none.

All was fee simple to him, in effect

His purchasing might not be in suspect* *suspicion

Nowhere so busy a man as he there was

And yet he seemed busier than he was

In termes had he case' and doomes* all *judgements

That from the time of King Will. were fall.

Thereto he could indite, and make a thing

There coulde no wight *pinch at* his writing. *find fault with*

And every statute coud* he plain by rote *knew

He rode but homely in a medley* coat, *multicoloured

Girt with a seint* of silk, with barres small; *sash

Of his array tell I no longer tale.

A FRANKELIN* was in this company; *Rich landowner

White was his beard, as is the daisy.

Of his complexion he was sanguine.

Well lov'd he in the morn a sop in wine.

To liven in delight was ever his won*, *wont

For he was Epicurus' owen son,

That held opinion, that plein* delight *full

Was verily felicity perfite.

An householder, and that a great, was he;

Saint Julian he was in his country.

His bread, his ale, was alway *after one*; *pressed on one*

A better envined* man was nowhere none; *stored with wine

Withoute bake-meat never was his house,

Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous,

It snowed in his house of meat and drink,

Of alle dainties that men coulde think.

After the sundry seasons of the year,

So changed he his meat and his soupere.

Full many a fat partridge had he in mew*, *cage

And many a bream, and many a luce* in stew** *pike **fish-pond

Woe was his cook, *but if* his sauce were *unless*

Poignant and sharp, and ready all his gear.

His table dormant* in his hall alway *fixed

Stood ready cover'd all the longe day.

At sessions there was he lord and sire.

Full often time he was *knight of the shire* *Member of Parliament*

An anlace*, and a gipciere** all of silk, *dagger **purse

Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk.

A sheriff had he been, and a countour

Was nowhere such a worthy vavasour.

An HABERDASHER, and a CARPENTER,

A WEBBE*, a DYER, and a TAPISER**, *weaver **tapestry-maker

Were with us eke, cloth'd in one livery,

Of a solemn and great fraternity.

Full fresh and new their gear y-picked* was. *spruce

Their knives were y-chaped* not with brass, *mounted

But all with silver wrought full clean and well,

Their girdles and their pouches *every deal*. *in every part*

Well seemed each of them a fair burgess,

To sitten in a guild-hall, on the dais.

Evereach, for the wisdom that he can*, *knew

Was shapely* for to be an alderman. *fitted

For chattels hadde they enough and rent,

And eke their wives would it well assent:

And elles certain they had been to blame.

It is full fair to be y-clep'd madame,

And for to go to vigils all before,

And have a mantle royally y-bore.

A COOK they hadde with them for the nones*, *occasion

To boil the chickens and the marrow bones,

And powder merchant tart and galingale.

Well could he know a draught of London ale.

He could roast, and stew, and broil, and fry,

Make mortrewes, and well bake a pie.

But great harm was it, as it thoughte me,

That, on his shin a mormal* hadde he. *ulcer

For blanc manger, that made he with the best

A SHIPMAN was there, *wonned far by West*: *who dwelt far

For ought I wot, be was of Dartemouth. to the West*

He rode upon a rouncy*, as he couth, *hack

All in a gown of falding* to the knee. *coarse cloth

A dagger hanging by a lace had he

About his neck under his arm adown;

The hot summer had made his hue all brown;

And certainly he was a good fellaw.

Full many a draught of wine he had y-draw

From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep;

Of nice conscience took he no keep.

If that he fought, and had the higher hand,

*By water he sent them home to every land.* *he drowned his

But of his craft to reckon well his tides, prisoners*

His streames and his strandes him besides,

His herberow*, his moon, and lodemanage**, *harbourage

There was none such, from Hull unto Carthage **pilotage

Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:

With many a tempest had his beard been shake.

He knew well all the havens, as they were,

From Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre,

And every creek in Bretagne and in Spain:

His barge y-cleped was the Magdelain.

With us there was a DOCTOR OF PHYSIC;

In all this worlde was there none him like

To speak of physic, and of surgery:

For he was grounded in astronomy.

He kept his patient a full great deal

In houres by his magic natural.

Well could he fortune* the ascendent *make fortunate

Of his images for his patient,.

He knew the cause of every malady,

Were it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry,

And where engender'd, and of what humour.

He was a very perfect practisour

The cause y-know,* and of his harm the root, *known

Anon he gave to the sick man his boot* *remedy

Full ready had he his apothecaries,

To send his drugges and his lectuaries

For each of them made other for to win

Their friendship was not newe to begin

Well knew he the old Esculapius,

And Dioscorides, and eke Rufus;

Old Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien;

Serapion, Rasis, and Avicen;

Averrois, Damascene, and Constantin;

Bernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertin.

Of his diet measurable was he,

For it was of no superfluity,

But of great nourishing, and digestible.

His study was but little on the Bible.

In sanguine* and in perse** he clad was all *red **blue

Lined with taffeta, and with sendall*. *fine silk

And yet *he was but easy of dispense*: *he spent very little*

He kept *that he won in the pestilence*. *the money he made

For gold in physic is a cordial; during the plague*

Therefore he loved gold in special.

A good WIFE was there OF beside BATH,

But she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath*. *damage; pity

Of cloth-making she hadde such an haunt*, *skill

She passed them of Ypres, and of Gaunt.

In all the parish wife was there none,

That to the off'ring* before her should gon, *the offering at mass

And if there did, certain so wroth was she,

That she was out of alle charity

Her coverchiefs* were full fine of ground *head-dresses

I durste swear, they weighede ten pound

That on the Sunday were upon her head.

Her hosen weren of fine scarlet red,

Full strait y-tied, and shoes full moist* and new *fresh

Bold was her face, and fair and red of hue.

She was a worthy woman all her live,

Husbands at the church door had she had five,

Withouten other company in youth;

But thereof needeth not to speak as nouth*. *now

And thrice had she been at Jerusalem;

She hadde passed many a strange stream

At Rome she had been, and at Bologne,

In Galice at Saint James, and at Cologne;

She coude* much of wand'rng by the Way. *knew

Gat-toothed* was she, soothly for to say. *Buck-toothed

Upon an ambler easily she sat,

Y-wimpled well, and on her head an hat

As broad as is a buckler or a targe.

A foot-mantle about her hippes large,

And on her feet a pair of spurres sharp.

In fellowship well could she laugh and carp* *jest, talk

Of remedies of love she knew perchance

For of that art she coud* the olde dance. *knew

A good man there was of religion,

That was a poore PARSON of a town:

But rich he was of holy thought and werk*. *work

He was also a learned man, a clerk,

That Christe's gospel truly woulde preach.

His parishens* devoutly would he teach. *parishioners

Benign he was, and wonder diligent,

And in adversity full patient:

And such he was y-proved *often sithes*. *oftentimes*

Full loth were him to curse for his tithes,

But rather would he given out of doubt,

Unto his poore parishens about,

Of his off'ring, and eke of his substance.

*He could in little thing have suffisance*. *he was satisfied with

Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder, very little*

But he ne left not, for no rain nor thunder,

In sickness and in mischief to visit

The farthest in his parish, *much and lit*, *great and small*

Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff.

This noble ensample to his sheep he gaf*, *gave

That first he wrought, and afterward he taught.

Out of the gospel he the wordes caught,

And this figure he added yet thereto,

That if gold ruste, what should iron do?

For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust,

No wonder is a lewed* man to rust: *unlearned

And shame it is, if that a priest take keep,

To see a shitten shepherd and clean sheep:

Well ought a priest ensample for to give,

By his own cleanness, how his sheep should live.

He sette not his benefice to hire,

And left his sheep eucumber'd in the mire,

And ran unto London, unto Saint Paul's,

To seeke him a chantery for souls,

Or with a brotherhood to be withold:* *detained

But dwelt at home, and kepte well his fold,

So that the wolf ne made it not miscarry.

He was a shepherd, and no mercenary.

And though he holy were, and virtuous,

He was to sinful men not dispitous* *severe

Nor of his speeche dangerous nor dign* *disdainful

But in his teaching discreet and benign.

To drawen folk to heaven, with fairness,

By good ensample, was his business:

*But it were* any person obstinate, *but if it were*

What so he were of high or low estate,

Him would he snibbe* sharply for the nones**. *reprove **nonce,occasion

A better priest I trow that nowhere none is.

He waited after no pomp nor reverence,

Nor maked him a *spiced conscience*, *artificial conscience*

But Christe's lore, and his apostles' twelve,

He taught, and first he follow'd it himselve.

With him there was a PLOUGHMAN, was his brother,

That had y-laid of dung full many a fother*. *ton

A true swinker* and a good was he, *hard worker

Living in peace and perfect charity.

God loved he beste with all his heart

At alle times, were it gain or smart*, *pain, loss

And then his neighebour right as himselve.

He woulde thresh, and thereto dike*, and delve, *dig ditches

For Christe's sake, for every poore wight,

Withouten hire, if it lay in his might.

His tithes payed he full fair and well,

Both of his *proper swink*, and his chattel** *his own labour* **goods

In a tabard* he rode upon a mare. *sleeveless jerkin

There was also a Reeve, and a Millere,

A Sompnour, and a Pardoner also,

A Manciple, and myself, there were no mo'.

The MILLER was a stout carle for the nones,

Full big he was of brawn, and eke of bones;

That proved well, for *ov'r all where* he came, *wheresoever*

At wrestling he would bear away the ram.

He was short-shouldered, broad, a thicke gnarr*, *stump of wood

There was no door, that he n'old* heave off bar, *could not

Or break it at a running with his head.

His beard as any sow or fox was red,

And thereto broad, as though it were a spade.

Upon the cop* right of his nose he had *head

A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs

Red as the bristles of a sowe's ears.

His nose-thirles* blacke were and wide. *nostrils

A sword and buckler bare he by his side.

His mouth as wide was as a furnace.

He was a jangler, and a goliardais*, *buffoon

And that was most of sin and harlotries.

Well could he steale corn, and tolle thrice

And yet he had a thumb of gold, pardie.

A white coat and a blue hood weared he

A baggepipe well could he blow and soun',

And therewithal he brought us out of town.

A gentle MANCIPLE was there of a temple,

Of which achatours* mighte take ensample *buyers

For to be wise in buying of vitaille*. *victuals

For whether that he paid, or took *by taile*, *on credit

Algate* he waited so in his achate**, *always **purchase

That he was aye before in good estate.

Now is not that of God a full fair grace

That such a lewed* mannes wit shall pace** *unlearned **surpass

The wisdom of an heap of learned men?

Of masters had he more than thries ten,

That were of law expert and curious:

Of which there was a dozen in that house,

Worthy to be stewards of rent and land

Of any lord that is in Engleland,

To make him live by his proper good,

In honour debtless, *but if he were wood*, *unless he were mad*

Or live as scarcely as him list desire;

And able for to helpen all a shire

In any case that mighte fall or hap;

And yet this Manciple *set their aller cap* *outwitted them all*

The REEVE was a slender choleric man

His beard was shav'd as nigh as ever he can.

His hair was by his eares round y-shorn;

His top was docked like a priest beforn

Full longe were his legges, and full lean

Y-like a staff, there was no calf y-seen

Well could he keep a garner* and a bin* *storeplaces for grain

There was no auditor could on him win

Well wist he by the drought, and by the rain,

The yielding of his seed and of his grain

His lorde's sheep, his neat*, and his dairy *cattle

His swine, his horse, his store, and his poultry,

Were wholly in this Reeve's governing,

And by his cov'nant gave he reckoning,

Since that his lord was twenty year of age;

There could no man bring him in arrearage

There was no bailiff, herd, nor other hine* *servant

That he ne knew his *sleight and his covine* *tricks and cheating*

They were adrad* of him, as of the death *in dread

His wonning* was full fair upon an heath *abode

With greene trees y-shadow'd was his place.

He coulde better than his lord purchase

Full rich he was y-stored privily

His lord well could he please subtilly,

To give and lend him of his owen good,

And have a thank, and yet* a coat and hood. *also

In youth he learned had a good mistere* *trade

He was a well good wright, a carpentere

This Reeve sate upon a right good stot*, *steed

That was all pomely* gray, and highte** Scot. *dappled **called

A long surcoat of perse* upon he had, *sky-blue

And by his side he bare a rusty blade.

Of Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell,

Beside a town men clepen* Baldeswell, *call

Tucked he was, as is a friar, about,

And ever rode the *hinderest of the rout*. *hindmost of the group*

A SOMPNOUR* was there with us in that place, *summoner

That had a fire-red cherubinnes face,

For sausefleme* he was, with eyen narrow. *red or pimply

As hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow,

With scalled browes black, and pilled* beard: *scanty

Of his visage children were sore afeard.

There n'as quicksilver, litharge, nor brimstone,

Boras, ceruse, nor oil of tartar none,

Nor ointement that woulde cleanse or bite,

That him might helpen of his whelkes* white, *pustules

Nor of the knobbes* sitting on his cheeks. *buttons

Well lov'd he garlic, onions, and leeks,

And for to drink strong wine as red as blood.

Then would he speak, and cry as he were wood;

And when that he well drunken had the wine,

Then would he speake no word but Latin.

A fewe termes knew he, two or three,

That he had learned out of some decree;

No wonder is, he heard it all the day.

And eke ye knowen well, how that a jay

Can clepen* "Wat," as well as can the Pope. *call

But whoso would in other thing him grope*, *search

Then had he spent all his philosophy,

Aye, Questio quid juris, would he cry.

He was a gentle harlot* and a kind; *a low fellow

A better fellow should a man not find.

He woulde suffer, for a quart of wine,

A good fellow to have his concubine

A twelvemonth, and excuse him at the full.

Full privily a *finch eke could he pull*. *"fleece" a man*

And if he found owhere* a good fellaw, *anywhere

He woulde teache him to have none awe

In such a case of the archdeacon's curse;

*But if* a manne's soul were in his purse; *unless*

For in his purse he should y-punished be.

"Purse is the archedeacon's hell," said he.

But well I wot, he lied right indeed:

Of cursing ought each guilty man to dread,

For curse will slay right as assoiling* saveth; *absolving

And also 'ware him of a significavit.

In danger had he at his owen guise

The younge girles of the diocese,

And knew their counsel, and was of their rede*. *counsel

A garland had he set upon his head,

As great as it were for an alestake*: *The post of an alehouse sign

A buckler had he made him of a cake.

With him there rode a gentle PARDONERE

Of Ronceval, his friend and his compere,

That straight was comen from the court of Rome.

Full loud he sang, "Come hither, love, to me"

This Sompnour *bare to him a stiff burdoun*, *sang the bass*

Was never trump of half so great a soun'.

This Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,

But smooth it hung, as doth a strike* of flax: *strip

By ounces hung his lockes that he had,

And therewith he his shoulders oversprad.

Full thin it lay, by culpons* one and one, *locks, shreds

But hood for jollity, he weared none,

For it was trussed up in his wallet.

Him thought he rode all of the *newe get*, *latest fashion*

Dishevel, save his cap, he rode all bare.

Such glaring eyen had he, as an hare.

A vernicle* had he sew'd upon his cap. *image of Christ

His wallet lay before him in his lap,

Bretful* of pardon come from Rome all hot. *brimful

A voice he had as small as hath a goat.

No beard had he, nor ever one should have.

As smooth it was as it were new y-shave;

I trow he were a gelding or a mare.

But of his craft, from Berwick unto Ware,

Ne was there such another pardonere.

For in his mail* he had a pillowbere**, *bag **pillowcase

Which, as he saide, was our Lady's veil:

He said, he had a gobbet* of the sail *piece

That Sainte Peter had, when that he went

Upon the sea, till Jesus Christ him hent*. *took hold of

He had a cross of latoun* full of stones, *copper

And in a glass he hadde pigge's bones.

But with these relics, whenne that he fond

A poore parson dwelling upon lond,

Upon a day he got him more money

Than that the parson got in moneths tway;

And thus with feigned flattering and japes*, *jests

He made the parson and the people his apes.

But truely to tellen at the last,

He was in church a noble ecclesiast.

Well could he read a lesson or a story,

But alderbest* he sang an offertory: *best of all

For well he wiste, when that song was sung,

He muste preach, and well afile* his tongue, *polish

To winne silver, as he right well could:

Therefore he sang full merrily and loud.

Now have I told you shortly in a clause

Th' estate, th' array, the number, and eke the cause

Why that assembled was this company

In Southwark at this gentle hostelry,

That highte the Tabard, fast by the Bell.

But now is time to you for to tell

*How that we baren us that ilke night*, *what we did that same night*

When we were in that hostelry alight.

And after will I tell of our voyage,

And all the remnant of our pilgrimage.

But first I pray you of your courtesy,

That ye *arette it not my villainy*, *count it not rudeness in me*

Though that I plainly speak in this mattere.

To tellen you their wordes and their cheer;

Not though I speak their wordes properly.

For this ye knowen all so well as I,

Whoso shall tell a tale after a man,

He must rehearse, as nigh as ever he can,

Every word, if it be in his charge,

*All speak he* ne'er so rudely and so large; *let him speak*

Or elles he must tell his tale untrue,

Or feigne things, or finde wordes new.

He may not spare, although he were his brother;

He must as well say one word as another.

Christ spake Himself full broad in Holy Writ,

And well ye wot no villainy is it.

Eke Plato saith, whoso that can him read,

The wordes must be cousin to the deed.

Also I pray you to forgive it me,

*All have I* not set folk in their degree, *although I have*

Here in this tale, as that they shoulden stand:

My wit is short, ye may well understand.

Great cheere made our Host us every one,

And to the supper set he us anon:

And served us with victual of the best.

Strong was the wine, and well to drink us lest*. *pleased

A seemly man Our Hoste was withal

For to have been a marshal in an hall.

A large man he was with eyen steep*, *deep-set.

A fairer burgess is there none in Cheap:

Bold of his speech, and wise and well y-taught,

And of manhoode lacked him right naught.

Eke thereto was he right a merry man,

And after supper playen he began,

And spake of mirth amonges other things,

When that we hadde made our reckonings;

And saide thus; "Now, lordinges, truly

Ye be to me welcome right heartily:

For by my troth, if that I shall not lie,

I saw not this year such a company

At once in this herberow*, am is now. *inn

Fain would I do you mirth, an* I wist* how. *if I knew*

And of a mirth I am right now bethought.

To do you ease*, and it shall coste nought. *pleasure

Ye go to Canterbury; God you speed,

The blissful Martyr *quite you your meed*; *grant you what

And well I wot, as ye go by the way, you deserve*

Ye *shapen you* to talken and to play: *intend to*

For truely comfort nor mirth is none

To ride by the way as dumb as stone:

And therefore would I make you disport,

As I said erst, and do you some comfort.

And if you liketh all by one assent

Now for to standen at my judgement,

And for to worken as I shall you say

To-morrow, when ye riden on the way,

Now by my father's soule that is dead,

*But ye be merry, smiteth off* mine head. *unless you are merry,

Hold up your hands withoute more speech. smite off my head*

Our counsel was not longe for to seech*: *seek

Us thought it was not worth to *make it wise*, *discuss it at length*

And granted him withoute more avise*, *consideration

And bade him say his verdict, as him lest.

Lordings (quoth he), now hearken for the best;

But take it not, I pray you, in disdain;

This is the point, to speak it plat* and plain. *flat

That each of you, to shorten with your way

In this voyage, shall tellen tales tway,

To Canterbury-ward, I mean it so,

And homeward he shall tellen other two,

Of aventures that whilom have befall.

And which of you that bear'th him best of all,

That is to say, that telleth in this case

Tales of best sentence and most solace,

Shall have a supper *at your aller cost* *at the cost of you all*

Here in this place, sitting by this post,

When that ye come again from Canterbury.

And for to make you the more merry,

I will myselfe gladly with you ride,

Right at mine owen cost, and be your guide.

And whoso will my judgement withsay,

Shall pay for all we spenden by the way.

And if ye vouchesafe that it be so,

Tell me anon withoute wordes mo'*, *more

And I will early shape me therefore."

This thing was granted, and our oath we swore

With full glad heart, and prayed him also,

That he would vouchesafe for to do so,

And that he woulde be our governour,

And of our tales judge and reportour,

And set a supper at a certain price;

And we will ruled be at his device,

In high and low: and thus by one assent,

We be accorded to his judgement.

And thereupon the wine was fet* anon. *fetched.

We drunken, and to reste went each one,

Withouten any longer tarrying

A-morrow, when the day began to spring,

Up rose our host, and was *our aller cock*, *the cock to wake us all*

And gather'd us together in a flock,

And forth we ridden all a little space,

Unto the watering of Saint Thomas:

And there our host began his horse arrest,

And saide; "Lordes, hearken if you lest.

Ye *weet your forword,* and I it record. *know your promise*

If even-song and morning-song accord,

Let see now who shall telle the first tale.

As ever may I drinke wine or ale,

Whoso is rebel to my judgement,

Shall pay for all that by the way is spent.

Now draw ye cuts*, ere that ye farther twin**. *lots **go

He which that hath the shortest shall begin."

"Sir Knight (quoth he), my master and my lord,

Now draw the cut, for that is mine accord.

Come near (quoth he), my Lady Prioress,

And ye, Sir Clerk, let be your shamefastness,

Nor study not: lay hand to, every man."

Anon to drawen every wight began,

And shortly for to tellen as it was,

Were it by a venture, or sort*, or cas**, *lot **chance

The sooth is this, the cut fell to the Knight,

Of which full blithe and glad was every wight;

And tell he must his tale as was reason,

By forword, and by composition,

As ye have heard; what needeth wordes mo'?

And when this good man saw that it was so,

As he that wise was and obedient

To keep his forword by his free assent,

He said; "Sithen* I shall begin this game, *since

Why, welcome be the cut in Godde's name.

Now let us ride, and hearken what I say."

And with that word we ridden forth our way;

And he began with right a merry cheer

His tale anon, and said as ye shall hear.

THE KNIGHT'S TALE

WHILOM*, as olde stories tellen us, *formerly

There was a duke that highte* Theseus. *was called

Of Athens he was lord and governor,

And in his time such a conqueror

That greater was there none under the sun.

Full many a riche country had he won.

What with his wisdom and his chivalry,

He conquer'd all the regne of Feminie,

That whilom was y-cleped Scythia;

And weddede the Queen Hippolyta

And brought her home with him to his country

With muchel* glory and great solemnity, *great

And eke her younge sister Emily,

And thus with vict'ry and with melody

Let I this worthy Duke to Athens ride,

And all his host, in armes him beside.

And certes, if it n'ere* too long to hear, *were not

I would have told you fully the mannere,

How wonnen* was the regne of Feminie, *won

By Theseus, and by his chivalry;

And of the greate battle for the nonce

Betwixt Athenes and the Amazons;

And how assieged was Hippolyta,

The faire hardy queen of Scythia;

And of the feast that was at her wedding

And of the tempest at her homecoming.

But all these things I must as now forbear.

I have, God wot, a large field to ear* *plough;

And weake be the oxen in my plough;

The remnant of my tale is long enow.

I will not *letten eke none of this rout*. *hinder any of

Let every fellow tell his tale about, this company*

And let see now who shall the supper win.

There *as I left*, I will again begin. *where I left off*

This Duke, of whom I make mentioun,

When he was come almost unto the town,

In all his weal, and in his moste pride,

He was ware, as he cast his eye aside,

Where that there kneeled in the highe way

A company of ladies, tway and tway,

Each after other, clad in clothes black:

But such a cry and such a woe they make,

That in this world n'is creature living,

That hearde such another waimenting* *lamenting

And of this crying would they never stenten*, *desist

Till they the reines of his bridle henten*. *seize

"What folk be ye that at mine homecoming

Perturben so my feaste with crying?"

Quoth Theseus; "Have ye so great envy

Of mine honour, that thus complain and cry?

Or who hath you misboden*, or offended? *wronged

Do telle me, if it may be amended;

And why that ye be clad thus all in black?"

The oldest lady of them all then spake,

When she had swooned, with a deadly cheer*, *countenance

That it was ruthe* for to see or hear. *pity

She saide; "Lord, to whom fortune hath given

Vict'ry, and as a conqueror to liven,

Nought grieveth us your glory and your honour;

But we beseechen mercy and succour.

Have mercy on our woe and our distress;

Some drop of pity, through thy gentleness,

Upon us wretched women let now fall.

For certes, lord, there is none of us all

That hath not been a duchess or a queen;

Now be we caitives*, as it is well seen: *captives

Thanked be Fortune, and her false wheel,

That *none estate ensureth to be wele*. *assures no continuance of

And certes, lord, t'abiden your presence prosperous estate*

Here in this temple of the goddess Clemence

We have been waiting all this fortenight:

Now help us, lord, since it lies in thy might.

"I, wretched wight, that weep and waile thus,

Was whilom wife to king Capaneus,

That starf* at Thebes, cursed be that day: *died

And alle we that be in this array,

And maken all this lamentatioun,

We losten all our husbands at that town,

While that the siege thereabouten lay.

And yet the olde Creon, wellaway!

That lord is now of Thebes the city,

Fulfilled of ire and of iniquity,

He for despite, and for his tyranny,

To do the deade bodies villainy*, *insult

Of all our lorde's, which that been y-slaw, *slain

Hath all the bodies on an heap y-draw,

And will not suffer them by none assent

Neither to be y-buried, nor y-brent*, *burnt

But maketh houndes eat them in despite."

And with that word, withoute more respite

They fallen groff,* and cryden piteously; *grovelling

"Have on us wretched women some mercy,

And let our sorrow sinken in thine heart."

This gentle Duke down from his courser start

With hearte piteous, when he heard them speak.

Him thoughte that his heart would all to-break,

When he saw them so piteous and so mate* *abased

That whilom weren of so great estate.

And in his armes he them all up hent*, *raised, took

And them comforted in full good intent,

And swore his oath, as he was true knight,

He woulde do *so farforthly his might* *as far as his power went*

Upon the tyrant Creon them to wreak*, *avenge

That all the people of Greece shoulde speak,

How Creon was of Theseus y-served,

As he that had his death full well deserved.

And right anon withoute more abode* *delay

His banner he display'd, and forth he rode

To Thebes-ward, and all his, host beside:

No ner* Athenes would he go nor ride, *nearer

Nor take his ease fully half a day,

But onward on his way that night he lay:

And sent anon Hippolyta the queen,

And Emily her younge sister sheen* *bright, lovely

Unto the town of Athens for to dwell:

And forth he rit*; there is no more to tell. *rode

The red statue of Mars with spear and targe* *shield

So shineth in his white banner large

That all the fieldes glitter up and down:

And by his banner borne is his pennon

Of gold full rich, in which there was y-beat* *stamped

The Minotaur which that he slew in Crete

Thus rit this Duke, thus rit this conqueror

And in his host of chivalry the flower,

Till that he came to Thebes, and alight

Fair in a field, there as he thought to fight.

But shortly for to speaken of this thing,

With Creon, which that was of Thebes king,

He fought, and slew him manly as a knight

In plain bataille, and put his folk to flight:

And by assault he won the city after,

And rent adown both wall, and spar, and rafter;

And to the ladies he restored again

The bodies of their husbands that were slain,

To do obsequies, as was then the guise*. *custom

But it were all too long for to devise* *describe

The greate clamour, and the waimenting*, *lamenting

Which that the ladies made at the brenning* *burning

Of the bodies, and the great honour

That Theseus the noble conqueror

Did to the ladies, when they from him went:

But shortly for to tell is mine intent.

When that this worthy Duke, this Theseus,

Had Creon slain, and wonnen Thebes thus,

Still in the field he took all night his rest,

And did with all the country as him lest*. *pleased

To ransack in the tas* of bodies dead, *heap

Them for to strip of *harness and of **weed, *armour **clothes

The pillers* did their business and cure, *pillagers

After the battle and discomfiture.

And so befell, that in the tas they found,

Through girt with many a grievous bloody wound,

Two younge knightes *ligging by and by* *lying side by side*

Both in *one armes*, wrought full richely: *the same armour*

Of whiche two, Arcita hight that one,

And he that other highte Palamon.

Not fully quick*, nor fully dead they were, *alive

But by their coat-armour, and by their gear,

The heralds knew them well in special,

As those that weren of the blood royal

Of Thebes, and *of sistren two y-born*. *born of two sisters*

Out of the tas the pillers have them torn,

And have them carried soft unto the tent

Of Theseus, and he full soon them sent

To Athens, for to dwellen in prison

Perpetually, he *n'olde no ranson*. *would take no ransom*

And when this worthy Duke had thus y-done,

He took his host, and home he rit anon

With laurel crowned as a conquerour;

And there he lived in joy and in honour

Term of his life; what needeth wordes mo'?

And in a tower, in anguish and in woe,

Dwellen this Palamon, and eke Arcite,

For evermore, there may no gold them quite* *set free

Thus passed year by year, and day by day,

Till it fell ones in a morn of May

That Emily, that fairer was to seen

Than is the lily upon his stalke green,

And fresher than the May with flowers new

(For with the rose colour strove her hue;

I n'ot* which was the finer of them two), *know not

Ere it was day, as she was wont to do,

She was arisen, and all ready dight*, *dressed

For May will have no sluggardy a-night;

The season pricketh every gentle heart,

And maketh him out of his sleep to start,

And saith, "Arise, and do thine observance."

This maketh Emily have remembrance

To do honour to May, and for to rise.

Y-clothed was she fresh for to devise;

Her yellow hair was braided in a tress,

Behind her back, a yarde long I guess.

And in the garden at *the sun uprist* *sunrise

She walketh up and down where as her list.

She gathereth flowers, party* white and red, *mingled

To make a sotel* garland for her head, *subtle, well-arranged

And as an angel heavenly she sung.

The greate tower, that was so thick and strong,

Which of the castle was the chief dungeon

(Where as these knightes weren in prison,

Of which I tolde you, and telle shall),

Was even joinant* to the garden wall, *adjoining

There as this Emily had her playing.

Bright was the sun, and clear that morrowning,

And Palamon, this woful prisoner,

As was his wont, by leave of his gaoler,

Was ris'n, and roamed in a chamber on high,

In which he all the noble city sigh*, *saw

And eke the garden, full of branches green,

There as this fresh Emelia the sheen

Was in her walk, and roamed up and down.

This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon

Went in his chamber roaming to and fro,

And to himself complaining of his woe:

That he was born, full oft he said, Alas!

And so befell, by aventure or cas*, *chance

That through a window thick of many a bar

Of iron great, and square as any spar,

He cast his eyes upon Emelia,

And therewithal he blent* and cried, Ah! *started aside

As though he stungen were unto the heart.

And with that cry Arcite anon up start,

And saide, "Cousin mine, what aileth thee,

That art so pale and deadly for to see?

Why cried'st thou? who hath thee done offence?

For Godde's love, take all in patience

Our prison*, for it may none other be. *imprisonment

Fortune hath giv'n us this adversity'.

Some wick'* aspect or disposition *wicked

Of Saturn, by some constellation,

Hath giv'n us this, although we had it sworn,

So stood the heaven when that we were born,

We must endure; this is the short and plain.

This Palamon answer'd, and said again:

"Cousin, forsooth of this opinion

Thou hast a vain imagination.

This prison caused me not for to cry;

But I was hurt right now thorough mine eye

Into mine heart; that will my bane* be. *destruction

The fairness of the lady that I see

Yond in the garden roaming to and fro,

Is cause of all my crying and my woe.

I *n'ot wher* she be woman or goddess, *know not whether*

But Venus is it, soothly* as I guess, *truly

And therewithal on knees adown he fill,

And saide: "Venus, if it be your will

You in this garden thus to transfigure

Before me sorrowful wretched creature,

Out of this prison help that we may scape.

And if so be our destiny be shape

By etern word to dien in prison,

Of our lineage have some compassion,

That is so low y-brought by tyranny."

And with that word Arcita *gan espy* *began to look forth*

Where as this lady roamed to and fro

And with that sight her beauty hurt him so,

That if that Palamon was wounded sore,

Arcite is hurt as much as he, or more.

And with a sigh he saide piteously:

"The freshe beauty slay'th me suddenly

Of her that roameth yonder in the place.

And but* I have her mercy and her grace, *unless

That I may see her at the leaste way,

I am but dead; there is no more to say."

This Palamon, when he these wordes heard,

Dispiteously* he looked, and answer'd: *angrily

"Whether say'st thou this in earnest or in play?"

"Nay," quoth Arcite, "in earnest, by my fay*. *faith

God help me so, *me lust full ill to play*." *I am in no humour

This Palamon gan knit his browes tway. for jesting*

"It were," quoth he, "to thee no great honour

For to be false, nor for to be traitour

To me, that am thy cousin and thy brother

Y-sworn full deep, and each of us to other,

That never for to dien in the pain ,

Till that the death departen shall us twain,

Neither of us in love to hinder other,

Nor in none other case, my leve* brother; *dear

But that thou shouldest truly farther me

In every case, as I should farther thee.

This was thine oath, and mine also certain;

I wot it well, thou dar'st it not withsayn*, *deny

Thus art thou of my counsel out of doubt,

And now thou wouldest falsely be about

To love my lady, whom I love and serve,

And ever shall, until mine hearte sterve* *die

Now certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not so

I lov'd her first, and tolde thee my woe

As to my counsel, and my brother sworn

To farther me, as I have told beforn.

For which thou art y-bounden as a knight

To helpe me, if it lie in thy might,

Or elles art thou false, I dare well sayn,"

This Arcita full proudly spake again:

"Thou shalt," quoth he, "be rather* false than I, *sooner

And thou art false, I tell thee utterly;

For par amour I lov'd her first ere thou.

What wilt thou say? *thou wist it not right now* *even now thou

Whether she be a woman or goddess. knowest not*

Thine is affection of holiness,

And mine is love, as to a creature:

For which I tolde thee mine aventure

As to my cousin, and my brother sworn

I pose*, that thou loved'st her beforn: *suppose

Wost* thou not well the olde clerke's saw, *know'st

That who shall give a lover any law?

Love is a greater lawe, by my pan,

Than may be giv'n to any earthly man:

Therefore positive law, and such decree,

Is broke alway for love in each degree

A man must needes love, maugre his head.

He may not flee it, though he should be dead,

*All be she* maid, or widow, or else wife. *whether she be*

And eke it is not likely all thy life

To standen in her grace, no more than I

For well thou wost thyselfe verily,

That thou and I be damned to prison

Perpetual, us gaineth no ranson.

We strive, as did the houndes for the bone;

They fought all day, and yet their part was none.

There came a kite, while that they were so wroth,

And bare away the bone betwixt them both.

And therefore at the kinge's court, my brother,

Each man for himselfe, there is no other.

Love if thee list; for I love and aye shall

And soothly, leve brother, this is all.

Here in this prison musten we endure,

And each of us take his Aventure."

Great was the strife and long between these tway,

If that I hadde leisure for to say;

But to the effect: it happen'd on a day

(To tell it you as shortly as I may),

A worthy duke that hight Perithous

That fellow was to the Duke Theseus

Since thilke* day that they were children lite** *that **little

Was come to Athens, his fellow to visite,

And for to play, as he was wont to do;

For in this world he loved no man so;

And he lov'd him as tenderly again.

So well they lov'd, as olde bookes sayn,

That when that one was dead, soothly to sayn,

His fellow went and sought him down in hell:

But of that story list me not to write.

Duke Perithous loved well Arcite,

And had him known at Thebes year by year:

And finally at request and prayere

Of Perithous, withoute ranson

Duke Theseus him let out of prison,

Freely to go, where him list over all,

In such a guise, as I you tellen shall

This was the forword*, plainly to indite, *promise

Betwixte Theseus and him Arcite:

That if so were, that Arcite were y-found

Ever in his life, by day or night, one stound* *moment

In any country of this Theseus,

And he were caught, it was accorded thus,

That with a sword he shoulde lose his head;

There was none other remedy nor rede*. *counsel

But took his leave, and homeward he him sped;

Let him beware, his necke lieth *to wed*. *in pledge*

How great a sorrow suff'reth now Arcite!

The death he feeleth through his hearte smite;

He weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously;

To slay himself he waiteth privily.

He said; "Alas the day that I was born!

Now is my prison worse than beforn:

*Now is me shape* eternally to dwell *it is fixed for me*

Not in purgatory, but right in hell.

Alas! that ever I knew Perithous.

For elles had I dwelt with Theseus

Y-fettered in his prison evermo'.

Then had I been in bliss, and not in woe.

Only the sight of her, whom that I serve,

Though that I never may her grace deserve,

Would have sufficed right enough for me.

O deare cousin Palamon," quoth he,

"Thine is the vict'ry of this aventure,

Full blissfully in prison to endure:

In prison? nay certes, in paradise.

Well hath fortune y-turned thee the dice,

That hast the sight of her, and I th' absence.

For possible is, since thou hast her presence,

And art a knight, a worthy and an able,

That by some cas*, since fortune is changeable, *chance

Thou may'st to thy desire sometime attain.

But I that am exiled, and barren

Of alle grace, and in so great despair,

That there n'is earthe, water, fire, nor air,

Nor creature, that of them maked is,

That may me helpe nor comfort in this,

Well ought I *sterve in wanhope* and distress. *die in despair*

Farewell my life, my lust*, and my gladness. *pleasure

Alas, *why plainen men so in commune *why do men so often complain

Of purveyance of God*, or of Fortune, of God's providence?*

That giveth them full oft in many a guise

Well better than they can themselves devise?

Some man desireth for to have richess,

That cause is of his murder or great sickness.

And some man would out of his prison fain,

That in his house is of his meinie* slain. *servants

Infinite harmes be in this mattere.

We wot never what thing we pray for here.

We fare as he that drunk is as a mouse.

A drunken man wot well he hath an house,

But he wot not which is the right way thither,

And to a drunken man the way is slither*. *slippery

And certes in this world so fare we.

We seeke fast after felicity,

But we go wrong full often truely.

Thus we may sayen all, and namely* I, *especially

That ween'd*, and had a great opinion, *thought

That if I might escape from prison

Then had I been in joy and perfect heal,

Where now I am exiled from my weal.

Since that I may not see you, Emily,

I am but dead; there is no remedy."

Upon that other side, Palamon,

When that he wist Arcita was agone,

Much sorrow maketh, that the greate tower

Resounded of his yelling and clamour

The pure* fetters on his shinnes great *very

Were of his bitter salte teares wet.

"Alas!" quoth he, "Arcita, cousin mine,

Of all our strife, God wot, the fruit is thine.

Thou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,

And of my woe thou *givest little charge*. *takest little heed*

Thou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manhead*, *manhood, courage

Assemble all the folk of our kindred,

And make a war so sharp on this country

That by some aventure, or some treaty,

Thou mayst have her to lady and to wife,

For whom that I must needes lose my life.

For as by way of possibility,

Since thou art at thy large, of prison free,

And art a lord, great is thine avantage,

More than is mine, that sterve here in a cage.

For I must weep and wail, while that I live,

With all the woe that prison may me give,

And eke with pain that love me gives also,

That doubles all my torment and my woe."

Therewith the fire of jealousy upstart

Within his breast, and hent* him by the heart *seized

So woodly*, that he like was to behold *madly

The box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.

Then said; "O cruel goddess, that govern

This world with binding of your word etern* *eternal

And writen in the table of adamant

Your parlement* and your eternal grant, *consultation

What is mankind more *unto you y-hold* *by you esteemed

Than is the sheep, that rouketh* in the fold! *lie huddled together

For slain is man, right as another beast;

And dwelleth eke in prison and arrest,

And hath sickness, and great adversity,

And oftentimes guilteless, pardie* *by God

What governance is in your prescience,

That guilteless tormenteth innocence?

And yet increaseth this all my penance,

That man is bounden to his observance

For Godde's sake to *letten of his will*, *restrain his desire*

Whereas a beast may all his lust fulfil.

And when a beast is dead, he hath no pain;

But man after his death must weep and plain,

Though in this worlde he have care and woe:

Withoute doubt it maye standen so.

"The answer of this leave I to divines,

But well I wot, that in this world great pine* is; *pain, trouble

Alas! I see a serpent or a thief

That many a true man hath done mischief,

Go at his large, and where him list may turn.

But I must be in prison through Saturn,

And eke through Juno, jealous and eke wood*, *mad

That hath well nigh destroyed all the blood

Of Thebes, with his waste walles wide.

And Venus slay'th me on that other side

For jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite."

Now will I stent* of Palamon a lite**, *pause **little

And let him in his prison stille dwell,

And of Arcita forth I will you tell.

The summer passeth, and the nightes long

Increase double-wise the paines strong

Both of the lover and the prisonere.

I n'ot* which hath the wofuller mistere**. *know not **condition

For, shortly for to say, this Palamon

Perpetually is damned to prison,

In chaines and in fetters to be dead;

And Arcite is exiled *on his head* *on peril of his head*

For evermore as out of that country,

Nor never more he shall his lady see.

You lovers ask I now this question,

Who lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?

The one may see his lady day by day,

But in prison he dwelle must alway.

The other where him list may ride or go,

But see his lady shall he never mo'.

Now deem all as you liste, ye that can,

For I will tell you forth as I began.

When that Arcite to Thebes comen was,

Full oft a day he swelt*, and said, "Alas!" *fainted

For see this lady he shall never mo'.

And shortly to concluden all his woe,

So much sorrow had never creature

That is or shall be while the world may dure.

His sleep, his meat, his drink is *him byraft*, *taken away from him*

That lean he wex*, and dry as any shaft. *became

His eyen hollow, grisly to behold,

His hue sallow, and pale as ashes cold,

And solitary he was, ever alone,

And wailing all the night, making his moan.

And if he hearde song or instrument,

Then would he weepen, he might not be stent*. *stopped

So feeble were his spirits, and so low,

And changed so, that no man coulde know

His speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.

And in his gear* for all the world he far'd *behaviour

Not only like the lovers' malady

Of Eros, but rather y-like manie* *madness

Engender'd of humours melancholic,

Before his head in his cell fantastic.

And shortly turned was all upside down,

Both habit and eke dispositioun,

Of him, this woful lover Dan* Arcite. *Lord

Why should I all day of his woe indite?

When he endured had a year or two

This cruel torment, and this pain and woe,

At Thebes, in his country, as I said,

Upon a night in sleep as he him laid,

Him thought how that the winged god Mercury

Before him stood, and bade him to be merry.

His sleepy yard* in hand he bare upright; *rod

A hat he wore upon his haires bright.

Arrayed was this god (as he took keep*) *notice

As he was when that Argus took his sleep;

And said him thus: "To Athens shalt thou wend*; *go

There is thee shapen* of thy woe an end." *fixed, prepared

And with that word Arcite woke and start.

"Now truely how sore that e'er me smart,"

Quoth he, "to Athens right now will I fare.

Nor for no dread of death shall I not spare

To see my lady that I love and serve;

In her presence *I recke not to sterve.*" *do not care if I die*

And with that word he caught a great mirror,

And saw that changed was all his colour,

And saw his visage all in other kind.

And right anon it ran him ill his mind,

That since his face was so disfigur'd

Of malady the which he had endur'd,

He mighte well, if that he *bare him low,* *lived in lowly fashion*

Live in Athenes evermore unknow,

And see his lady wellnigh day by day.

And right anon he changed his array,

And clad him as a poore labourer.

And all alone, save only a squier,

That knew his privity* and all his cas**, *secrets **fortune

Which was disguised poorly as he was,

To Athens is he gone the nexte* way. *nearest

And to the court he went upon a day,

And at the gate he proffer'd his service,

To drudge and draw, what so men would devise*. *order

And, shortly of this matter for to sayn,

He fell in office with a chamberlain,

The which that dwelling was with Emily.

For he was wise, and coulde soon espy

Of every servant which that served her.

Well could he hewe wood, and water bear,

For he was young and mighty for the nones*, *occasion

And thereto he was strong and big of bones

To do that any wight can him devise.

A year or two he was in this service,

Page of the chamber of Emily the bright;

And Philostrate he saide that he hight.

But half so well belov'd a man as he

Ne was there never in court of his degree.

He was so gentle of conditioun,

That throughout all the court was his renown.

They saide that it were a charity

That Theseus would *enhance his degree*, *elevate him in rank*

And put him in some worshipful service,

There as he might his virtue exercise.

And thus within a while his name sprung

Both of his deedes, and of his good tongue,

That Theseus hath taken him so near,

That of his chamber he hath made him squire,

And gave him gold to maintain his degree;

And eke men brought him out of his country

From year to year full privily his rent.

But honestly and slyly* he it spent, *discreetly, prudently

That no man wonder'd how that he it had.

And three year in this wise his life be lad*, *led

And bare him so in peace and eke in werre*, *war

There was no man that Theseus had so derre*. *dear

And in this blisse leave I now Arcite,

And speak I will of Palamon a lite*. *little

In darkness horrible, and strong prison,

This seven year hath sitten Palamon,

Forpined*, what for love, and for distress. *pined, wasted away

Who feeleth double sorrow and heaviness

But Palamon? that love distraineth* so, *afflicts

That wood* out of his wits he went for woe, *mad

And eke thereto he is a prisonere

Perpetual, not only for a year.

Who coulde rhyme in English properly

His martyrdom? forsooth*, it is not I; *truly

Therefore I pass as lightly as I may.

It fell that in the seventh year, in May

The thirde night (as olde bookes sayn,

That all this story tellen more plain),

Were it by a venture or destiny

(As when a thing is shapen* it shall be), *settled, decreed

That soon after the midnight, Palamon

By helping of a friend brake his prison,

And fled the city fast as he might go,

For he had given drink his gaoler so

Of a clary , made of a certain wine,

With *narcotise and opie* of Thebes fine, *narcotics and opium*

That all the night, though that men would him shake,

The gaoler slept, he mighte not awake:

And thus he fled as fast as ever he may.

The night was short, and *faste by the day *close at hand was

That needes cast he must himself to hide*. the day during which

And to a grove faste there beside he must cast about, or contrive,

With dreadful foot then stalked Palamon. to conceal himself.*

For shortly this was his opinion,

That in the grove he would him hide all day,

And in the night then would he take his way

To Thebes-ward, his friendes for to pray

On Theseus to help him to warray*. *make war

And shortly either he would lose his life,

Or winnen Emily unto his wife.

This is th' effect, and his intention plain.

Now will I turn to Arcita again,

That little wist how nighe was his care,

Till that Fortune had brought him in the snare.

The busy lark, the messenger of day,

Saluteth in her song the morning gray;

And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright,

That all the orient laugheth at the sight,

And with his streames* drieth in the greves** *rays **groves

The silver droppes, hanging on the leaves;

And Arcite, that is in the court royal

With Theseus, his squier principal,

Is ris'n, and looketh on the merry day.

And for to do his observance to May,

Remembering the point* of his desire, *object

He on his courser, starting as the fire,

Is ridden to the fieldes him to play,

Out of the court, were it a mile or tway.

And to the grove, of which I have you told,

By a venture his way began to hold,

To make him a garland of the greves*, *groves

Were it of woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves,

And loud he sang against the sun so sheen*. *shining bright

"O May, with all thy flowers and thy green,

Right welcome be thou, faire freshe May,

I hope that I some green here getten may."

And from his courser*, with a lusty heart, *horse

Into the grove full hastily he start,

And in a path he roamed up and down,

There as by aventure this Palamon

Was in a bush, that no man might him see,

For sore afeard of his death was he.

Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite;

God wot he would have *trowed it full lite*. *full little believed it*

But sooth is said, gone since full many years,

The field hath eyen*, and the wood hath ears, *eyes

It is full fair a man *to bear him even*, *to be on his guard*

For all day meeten men at *unset steven*. *unexpected time

Full little wot Arcite of his fellaw,

That was so nigh to hearken of his saw*, *saying, speech

For in the bush he sitteth now full still.

When that Arcite had roamed all his fill,

And *sungen all the roundel* lustily, *sang the roundelay*

Into a study he fell suddenly,

As do those lovers in their *quainte gears*, *odd fashions*

Now in the crop*, and now down in the breres**, *tree-top

Now up, now down, as bucket in a well. **briars

Right as the Friday, soothly for to tell,

Now shineth it, and now it raineth fast,

Right so can geary* Venus overcast *changeful

The heartes of her folk, right as her day

Is gearful*, right so changeth she array. *changeful

Seldom is Friday all the weeke like.

When Arcite had y-sung, he gan to sike*, *sigh

And sat him down withouten any more:

"Alas!" quoth he, "the day that I was bore!

How longe, Juno, through thy cruelty

Wilt thou warrayen* Thebes the city? *torment

Alas! y-brought is to confusion

The blood royal of Cadm' and Amphion:

Of Cadmus, which that was the firste man,

That Thebes built, or first the town began,

And of the city first was crowned king.

Of his lineage am I, and his offspring

By very line, as of the stock royal;

And now I am *so caitiff and so thrall*, *wretched and enslaved*

That he that is my mortal enemy,

I serve him as his squier poorely.

And yet doth Juno me well more shame,

For I dare not beknow* mine owen name, *acknowledge

But there as I was wont to hight Arcite,

Now hight I Philostrate, not worth a mite.

Alas! thou fell Mars, and alas! Juno,

Thus hath your ire our lineage all fordo* *undone, ruined

Save only me, and wretched Palamon,

That Theseus martyreth in prison.

And over all this, to slay me utterly,

Love hath his fiery dart so brenningly* *burningly

Y-sticked through my true careful heart,

That shapen was my death erst than my shert.

Ye slay me with your eyen, Emily;

Ye be the cause wherefore that I die.

Of all the remnant of mine other care

Ne set I not the *mountance of a tare*, *value of a straw*

So that I could do aught to your pleasance."

And with that word he fell down in a trance

A longe time; and afterward upstart

This Palamon, that thought thorough his heart

He felt a cold sword suddenly to glide:

For ire he quoke*, no longer would he hide. *quaked

And when that he had heard Arcite's tale,

As he were wood*, with face dead and pale, *mad

He start him up out of the bushes thick,

And said: "False Arcita, false traitor wick'*, *wicked

Now art thou hent*, that lov'st my lady so, *caught

For whom that I have all this pain and woe,

And art my blood, and to my counsel sworn,

As I full oft have told thee herebeforn,

And hast bejaped* here Duke Theseus, *deceived, imposed upon

And falsely changed hast thy name thus;

I will be dead, or elles thou shalt die.

Thou shalt not love my lady Emily,

But I will love her only and no mo';

For I am Palamon thy mortal foe.

And though I have no weapon in this place,

But out of prison am astart* by grace, *escaped

I dreade* not that either thou shalt die, *doubt

Or else thou shalt not loven Emily.

Choose which thou wilt, for thou shalt not astart."

This Arcite then, with full dispiteous* heart, *wrathful

When he him knew, and had his tale heard,

As fierce as lion pulled out a swerd,

And saide thus; "By God that sitt'th above,

*N'ere it* that thou art sick, and wood for love, *were it not*

And eke that thou no weap'n hast in this place,

Thou should'st never out of this grove pace,

That thou ne shouldest dien of mine hand.

For I defy the surety and the band,

Which that thou sayest I have made to thee.

What? very fool, think well that love is free;

And I will love her maugre* all thy might. *despite

But, for thou art a worthy gentle knight,

And *wilnest to darraine her by bataille*, *will reclaim her

Have here my troth, to-morrow I will not fail, by combat*

Without weeting* of any other wight, *knowledge

That here I will be founden as a knight,

And bringe harness* right enough for thee; *armour and arms

And choose the best, and leave the worst for me.

And meat and drinke this night will I bring

Enough for thee, and clothes for thy bedding.

And if so be that thou my lady win,

And slay me in this wood that I am in,

Thou may'st well have thy lady as for me."

This Palamon answer'd, "I grant it thee."

And thus they be departed till the morrow,

When each of them hath *laid his faith to borrow*. *pledged his faith*

O Cupid, out of alle charity!

O Regne* that wilt no fellow have with thee! *queen

Full sooth is said, that love nor lordeship

Will not, *his thanks*, have any fellowship. *thanks to him*

Well finden that Arcite and Palamon.

Arcite is ridd anon unto the town,

And on the morrow, ere it were daylight,

Full privily two harness hath he dight*, *prepared

Both suffisant and meete to darraine* *contest

The battle in the field betwixt them twain.

And on his horse, alone as he was born,

He carrieth all this harness him beforn;

And in the grove, at time and place y-set,

This Arcite and this Palamon be met.

Then change gan the colour of their face;

Right as the hunter in the regne* of Thrace *kingdom

That standeth at a gappe with a spear

When hunted is the lion or the bear,

And heareth him come rushing in the greves*, *groves

And breaking both the boughes and the leaves,

Thinketh, "Here comes my mortal enemy,

Withoute fail, he must be dead or I;

For either I must slay him at the gap;

Or he must slay me, if that me mishap:"

So fared they, in changing of their hue

*As far as either of them other knew*. *When they recognised each

There was no good day, and no saluting, other afar off*

But straight, withoute wordes rehearsing,

Evereach of them holp to arm the other,

As friendly, as he were his owen brother.

And after that, with sharpe speares strong

They foined* each at other wonder long. *thrust

Thou mightest weene*, that this Palamon *think

In fighting were as a wood* lion, *mad

And as a cruel tiger was Arcite:

As wilde boars gan they together smite,

That froth as white as foam, *for ire wood*. *mad with anger*

Up to the ancle fought they in their blood.

And in this wise I let them fighting dwell,

And forth I will of Theseus you tell.

The Destiny, minister general,

That executeth in the world o'er all

The purveyance*, that God hath seen beforn; *foreordination

So strong it is, that though the world had sworn

The contrary of a thing by yea or nay,

Yet some time it shall fallen on a day

That falleth not eft* in a thousand year. *again

For certainly our appetites here,

Be it of war, or peace, or hate, or love,

All is this ruled by the sight* above. *eye, intelligence, power

This mean I now by mighty Theseus,

That for to hunten is so desirous —

And namely* the greate hart in May — *especially

That in his bed there dawneth him no day

That he n'is clad, and ready for to ride

With hunt and horn, and houndes him beside.

For in his hunting hath he such delight,

That it is all his joy and appetite

To be himself the greate harte's bane* *destruction

For after Mars he serveth now Diane.

Clear was the day, as I have told ere this,

And Theseus, with alle joy and bliss,

With his Hippolyta, the faire queen,

And Emily, y-clothed all in green,

On hunting be they ridden royally.

And to the grove, that stood there faste by,

In which there was an hart, as men him told,

Duke Theseus the straighte way doth hold,

And to the laund* he rideth him full right, *plain

There was the hart y-wont to have his flight,

And over a brook, and so forth on his way.

This Duke will have a course at him or tway

With houndes, such as him lust* to command. *pleased

And when this Duke was come to the laund,

Under the sun he looked, and anon

He was ware of Arcite and Palamon,

That foughte breme*, as it were bulles two. *fiercely

The brighte swordes wente to and fro

So hideously, that with the leaste stroke

It seemed that it woulde fell an oak,

But what they were, nothing yet he wote*. *knew

This Duke his courser with his spurres smote,

*And at a start* he was betwixt them two, *suddenly*

And pulled out a sword and cried, "Ho!

No more, on pain of losing of your head.

By mighty Mars, he shall anon be dead

That smiteth any stroke, that I may see!

But tell to me what mister* men ye be, *manner, kind

That be so hardy for to fighte here

Withoute judge or other officer,

As though it were in listes royally.

This Palamon answered hastily,

And saide: "Sir, what needeth wordes mo'?

We have the death deserved bothe two,

Two woful wretches be we, and caitives,

That be accumbered* of our own lives, *burdened

And as thou art a rightful lord and judge,

So give us neither mercy nor refuge.