Now bere the wel, thou heende Nicholas,
For Absolon may wayle and synge allas.
And so bifelle it on a Satyrday
This carpenter was gon to Osenay,
And heende Nicholas and Alisoun
Acordid ben to this conclusioun,
That Nicholas schal schapen hem a wyle
This sely jelous housbond to begyle;
And if so were this game wente aright,
Sche schulde slepe in his arm al night,
For this was hire desir and his also.
And right anoon, withouten wordes mo,
This Nicholas no lenger wold he tarye,
But doth ful softe into his chambur carye
Bothe mete and drynke for a day or tweye.
And to hir housbond bad hir for to seye,
If that he axed after Nicholas,
He saugh nat that. But yet, by seint Thomas!
Me reweth sore for heende Nicholas;
He schal be ratyd of his studyyng,
3400 If that I may, by Jhesu heven kyng!
Gete me a staf, that I may underspore,
Whil that thou, Robyn, hevest up the dore:
He schal out of his studyyng, as I
gesse."
And to the chambir dore he gan him dresse.
His knave was a strong karl for the noones,
And by the hasp he haf it up at oones;
And in the floor the dore fit doun anoon.
This Nicholas sat stille as eny stoon,
And ever he gapyd up-ward to the eyr.
This carpenter wende he were in despeir,
And hent him by the schuldres mightily,
And schook him harde, and cryed spitously,
"What, Nicholas? what how, man? loke adoun;
Awake, and thynk on Cristes passioun.
I crowche the from elves and from wightes.
Therwith the night-spel seyde he anon rightes,
On the foure halves of the hous aboute,
And on the threisshfold of the dore withoute.
Lord Jhesu Crist, and seynte Benedight,
Blesse this hous from every wikkede wight,
Fro nyghtes verray, the white Pater-noster;
Wher wonestow now, seynte Petres soster?"
And atte laste, heende Nicholas
Gan for to syke sore, and seyde,
Schal al the world be lost eftsones now?"
This carpenter answerde, "What seystow? 3490
What? thenk on God, as we doon, men that
Sche schulde seye, sche wiste nat wher he was;
Of al that day sche saw him nat with eye;
Sche trowed he were falle in som maladye,
For no cry that hir mayden cowde him calle
He nolde answere, for nought that may bifalle.
Thus passeth forth al that ilke Satyrday,
That Nicholas stille in his chambre lay,
And eet, and drank, and dede what him leste
Til Soneday the sonne was gon to reste.
This sely carpenter hath gret mervaile
Of Nicholas, or what thing may him ayle,
And seyde, "I am adrad, by seynt Thomas!
It stondeth nat aright with Nicholas;
God schilde that he deyde sodeinly.
This world is now ful tykel sikerly;
I saugh to-day a corps y-born to chirche,
That now on Monday last I saugh him wirche.
Go up," quod he unto his knave, "anoon;
Clepe at his dore, or knokke with a stoon;
Loke how it is, and telle me boldely."
This knave goth him up ful sturdily,
And at the chambir dore whil he stood,
He cryed and knokked as that he were wood;
"What how? what do ye, mayster Nicholay?
How may ye slepen al this longe day?"
But al for nought, he herde nat o word.
An hole he fond right lowe upon the boord,
Ther as the cat was wont in for to creepe,
And at that hole he loked in ful deepe,
And atte laste he hadde of him a sight.
This Nicholas sat ever gapyng upright,
As he had loked on the newe moone.
Adoun he goth, and tolde his mayster soone,
In what aray he sawh this ilke man.
This carpenter to blessen him bygan,
And seyde, "Now help us, seynte Frideswyde!
A man woot litel what him schal betyde.
This man is falle with his astronomye
In som woodnesse, or in som agonye.
I thought ay wel how that it schulde be.
Men schulde nought knowe of Goddes pryvyté.
Ye, blessed be alwey a lewed man,
That nat but oonly his bileeve can.
So ferde another clerk with astronomye;
He walked in the feeldes for to prye
Upon the sterres, what ther schulde bifalle,
Til he was in a marle pit i-falle.
3449. seynte Frideswyde. This saint was appropriately invoked by the carpenter, as she was the patron of a rich monastic house at Oxford.
3460. in a marle pit. This tale, told of Thales by Plato, was very popular in the middle ages, and is found under different forms in a variety of collections of stories.
This Nicholas answerde, "Fette me drynke;
And after wol I speke in pryvyté
Of certeyn thing that toucheth the and me;
I wol telle it non other man certayn."
This carpenter goth forth, and comth agayn,
And brought of mighty ale a large quart.
Whan ech of hem y-dronken had his part,
This Nicholas his dore gan to schitte,
And dede this carpenter doun by him sitte, 3500
And seide," Johan, myn host ful leve and deere,
Thou schalt upon thy trouthe swere me heere,
That to no wight thou schalt this counsel wreye;
For it is Cristes counsel that I seye,
And if thou telle it man, thou art forlore;
For this vengaunce thou schalt han therfore,
That if thou wreye me, thou schalt be wood."
Nay, Crist forbede it for his holy blood!"
Quod tho this sely man, "I am no labbe,
Though I it say, I am nought leef to gabbe. 3510
Say what thou wolt, I schal it never telle
To child ne wyf, by him that harwed helle!”
Now, Johan," quod Nicholas, "I wol not lye:
I have i-founde in myn astrologye,
As I have loked in the moone bright,
That now on Monday next, at quarter night,
Schal falle a reyn, and that so wilde and wood,
That half so gret was never Noes flood.
This world," he seyde,
66 more than an hour
Schal ben i-dreynt, so hidous is the schour: 3520
Thus schal mankynde drench, and leese his lyf."
This carpenter answered, "Allas, my wyf!
3485. verray. This is the reading of the Mss. I have consulted. Tyrwhitt reads mare, which is perhaps right. 3512. him that harwed helle. Our Saviour. The harrowing of hell was a very popular legend among our forefathers, and found a place in most of the collections of mysteries, from which representations the lower orders obtained their notions of Scripture history and theology.
And schal sche drenche? allas, myn Alisoun!" For sorwe of this he fel almost adoun,
And seyde, "Is ther no remedy in this caas?"
Why yis, for Gode," quod heende Nicholas;
"If thou wolt werken aftir lore and reed;
Thou maist nought worke after thin owen heed.
For thus seith Salomon, that was ful trewe,
Werke by counseil, and thou schalt nat rewe.
And if thou worken wolt by good counsail, 3531
I undertake, withouten mast and sail,
Yet schal I saven hir, and the, and me.
Hastow nat herd how saved was Noe,
Whan that our Lord had warned him biforn,
That al the world with watir schulde be lorn?"
"Yis," quod this carpenter, "ful yore ago."
"Hastow nought herd," quod Nicholas, “ also
The sorwe of Noe with his felaschipe,
That he hadde or he gat his wyf to schipe? 3540
Him hadde wel lever, I dar wel undertake,
At thilke tyme, than alle his wetheres blake,
That sche hadde had a schip hirself allone.
And therfore wostow what is best to doone?
This axeth hast, and of an hasty thing
Men may nought preche or make taryyng,
Anon go gete us fast into this in
A knedyng trowh or elles a kemelyn,
For ech of us; but loke that they be large,
In which that we may rowe as in a barge,
And have therin vitaille suffisant
But for o day; fy on the remenant;
The water schal aslake and gon away
Aboute prime uppon the nexte day.
But Robyn may not wite of this, thy knave,
Ne ek thy mayde Gille I may not save;
Aske nought why; for though thou aske me,
I wol nat tellen Goddes pryveté.
Sufficeth the, but if that thy witt madde,
To have as gret a grace as Noe hadde.
Thy wyf schal I wel saven out of doute.
Go now thy wey, and speed the heer aboute;
And whan thou hast for hir, and the, and me,
I-goten us this knedyng tubbes thre,
Than schalt thou hange hem in the roof ful hie,
That no man of oure purveaunce aspye;
And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd,
And hast oure vitaille faire in hem y-leyd,
And eek an ax to smyte the corde a-two
Whan that the water cometh, that we may goo,
And breke an hole an hye upon the gable
Into the gardyn-ward over the stable,
That we may frely passen forth oure way,
Whan that the grete schour is gon away;
Than schaltow swymme as mery, I undertake,
As doth the white doke aftir hir drake;
Than wol I clepe, How Alisoun, how Jon,
Beoth merye, for the flood passeth anon.
And thou wolt seye, Heyl, maister Nicholay,
Good morn, I see the wel, for it is day.
And than schul we be lordes al oure lyf
Of al the world, as Noe and his wyf.
But of oo thing I warne the ful right,
Be wel avysed of that ilke nyght,
That we ben entred into schippes boord,
3540. his wyf. According to a medieval legend, Noah's wife was unwilling to go into the ark; and the quarrel between her and her husband makes a prominent part of the play of Noah's Flood, in the Chester and Towneley Mysteries.
3577. Jon. See, further on, the note on 1. 4011.
That non of us ne speke not a word,
Ne clepo ne crye, but be in his preyere,
For it is Goddes owne heste deere.
Thy wyf and thou most hangen fer a-twynne,
For that bitwixe you schal be no synne,
No more in lokyng than ther schal in dede.
This ordynaunce is seyd; so God me speede.
To morwe at night, whan men ben aslepe,
Into our knedyng tubbes wol we crepe,
And sitte ther, abydyng Goddes grace.
Go now thy way, I have no lenger space
To make of this no lenger sermonyng;
Men seyn thus, send the wyse, and sey no thing;
Thou art so wys, it needeth nat the teche.
Go, save oure lyf, and that I the byseche." 3600
This seely carpenter goth forth his way,
Ful ofte he seyd," Allas, and weylaway!"
And to his wyf he told his pryveté,
And sche was war, and knew it bet than he,
What al this queinte cast was for to seye.
But natheles sche ferd as sche schuld deye,
And seyde," Allas! go forth thy way anoon,
Help us to skape, or we be ded echon.
I am thy verray trewe wedded wyf;
Go, deere spouse, and help to save oure lyf." 3610
Lo, which a gret thing is affeccioun!
A man may dye for ymaginacioun,
So deepe may impressioun be take.
This seely carpenter bygynneth quake;
Him thenketh verrayly that he may se
Noes flood come walking as the see
To drenchen Alisoun, his hony deere.
He weepeth, wayleth, maketh sory cheere;
He siketh, with ful many a sory swough,
And goth, and geteth him a knedyng trough, 3620
And after that a tubbe, and a kymelyn,
And pryvely he sent hem to his in,
And heng hem in the roof in pryveté.
His owne hond than made laddres thre,
To clymben by the ronges and the stalkes
Unto the tubbes hangyng in the balkes;
And hem vitayled, bothe trough and tubbe,
With breed and cheese, with good ale in a jubbe,
Suffisyng right ynough as for a day.
But or that he had maad al this array,
He sent his knave and eek his wenche also
Upon his neede to Londone for to go.
And on the Monday, whan it drew to nyght,
He schette his dore, withouten candel light,
And dressed al this thing as it schuld be.
And schortly up they clumben alle thre.
They seten stille wel a forlong way:
"Now, Pater noster, clum," quod Nicholay,
And "clum," quod Jon, and "clum," quod Alisoun.
This carpenter seyd his devocioun,
And stille he sitt, and byddeth his prayere,
Ay waytyng on the reyn, if he it heere.
The deede sleep, for verray busynesse,
Fil on this carpenter, right as I gesse,
Abowten courfew tyme, or litel more.
For travail of his goost he groneth sore,
And eft he routeth, for his heed myslay.
Doun of the laddir stalketh Nicholay,
And Alisoun ful softe adoun hir spedde.
Withouten wordes mo they goon to bedde; 3650
Ther as the carpenter was wont to lye,
Ther was the revel and the melodye.
And thus lith Alisoun and Nicholas,
In busynesse of myrthe and of solas,
Til that the belles of laudes gan to rynge,
And freres in the chauncel gan to synge.
This parissch clerk, this amerous Absolon,
That is for love so harde and woo bygon,
Upon the Monday was at Osenay
With company, him to desporte and play;
And axed upon caas a cloysterer
Ful pryvely after the carpenter;
And he drough him apart out of the chirche,
And sayde, "Nay, I say him nat here wirche
Syn Satirday; I trow that he be went
For tymber, ther our abbot hath him sent.
For he is wont for tymber for to goo,
And dwellen at the Graunge a day or tuo.
Or elles he is at his hous certayn.
Wher that he be, I can nat sothly sayn."
This Absolon ful joly was and light,
And thoughte, "Now is tyme wake al night,
For sikerly I sawh him nought styryng
Aboute his dore, syn day bigan to spryng.
So mote I thryve, I schal at cokkes crowe
Ful pryvely go knokke at his wyndowe,
That stant ful lowe upon his bowres wal;
To Alisoun than wol I tellen al
My love-longyng; for yet I schal not mysse
That atte leste wey I schal hir kisse.
Som maner comfort schal I have, parfay!
My mouth hath icched al this longe day;
That is a signe of kissyng atte leste.
Al nyght I mette eek I was at a feste.
Therfore I wol go slepe an hour or tweye,
And al the night than wol I wake and pleye."
Whan that the firste cok hath crowe, anoon
Up ryst this jolyf lover Absolon,
And him arrayeth gay, at poynt devys.
But first he cheweth greyn and lycoris,
To smellen swete, or he hadde kempt his heere.
Under his tunge a trewe love he beere,
For therby wende he to be gracious.
He rometh to the carpenteres hous,
And stille he stant under the schot wyndowe; Unto his brest it raught, it was so lowe; And softe he cowhith with a semysoun: "What do ye, honycomb, swete Alisoun? My fayre bryd, my swete cynamome, Awake, lemman myn, and speketh to me. Ful litel thynke ye upon my wo, That for youre love I swelte ther I go. No wonder is if that I swelte and swete, I morne as doth a lamb after the tete. I-wis, lemman, I have such love-longyng, That like a turtil trewe is my moornyng. I may not ete more than a mayde." "Go fro the wyndow, jakke fool," sche sayde; "As help me God, it wol not be, compame. I love another, and elles were I to blame, Wel bet than the, by Jhesu, Absolon. Go forth thy wey, or I wol cast a stoon; And lete me slepe, a twenty devel way!" 3655. belles of laudes. The service of Laudes or Matins began at three o'clock in the morning. The bell was naturally rung a little before, and perhaps began at halfpast two.
3668. the Graunge. The abbeys had generally large granges attached to their more considerable estates, erected with so much strength that many of them have outlived the monasteries themselves. The distance of some of the estates from the abbey would naturally oblige those who went on business to stay a day or two away. 3690. greyn. Grains of Paris, or Paradise; a favourite spice at this period.
"Allas!" quod Absolon, " and weylaway!
That trewe love was ever so ylle bysett;
Thanne kisseth me, syn it may be no bett,
For Jesus love, and for the love of me."
"Wilt thou than go thy wey therwith?” quod sche.
Ye, certes, lemman," quod this Absolon.
"Than mak the redy," quod sche, "I come anon."
This Absolon doun sette him on his knees, 3721
And seide, "I am a lord at alle degrees;
For after this I hope ther cometh more;
Lemman, thy grace, and, swete bryd, thyn ore."
The wyndow sche undyd, and that in hast;
"Have doon," quod sche, "com of, and speed the
Lest that our neygheboures the aspye." [fast,
This Absolon gan wipe his mouth ful drye.
Derk was the night as picche or as a cole,
Out atte wyndow putte sche hir hole;
And Absolon him fel no bet ne wers,
But with his mouth he kist hir naked ers
Ful savorly. Whan he was war of this,
Abak he sterte, and thought it was amys,
For wel he wist a womman hath no berd.
He felt a thing al rough and long i-herd,
And seyde, "Fy, allas! what have I do?"
"Te-hce!" quod sche, and clapt the wyndow to;
And Absolon goth forth a sory paas.
"A berd, a berd!" quod heende Nicholas; 3740
"By Goddes corps, this game goth fair and wel."
This seely Absolon herd every del,
And on his lippe he gan for angir byte;
And to himself he seyde, "I schal the quyte."
Who rubbith now, who froteth now his lippes With dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with But Absolon? that scith ful ofte, "Allas, [chippes, My soule bytake I unto Sathanas!
But me were lever than alle this toun," quod he,
"Of this dispit awroken for to be.
Allas!" quod he, "allas! I nadde bleynt!"
His hoote love was cold, and al i-queint.
For fro that tyme that he had kist her ers,
Of paramours ne sette he nat a kers,
For he was helyd of his maledye;
Ful ofte paramours he gan deffye,
And wept as doth a child that is i-bete.
A softe paas went he over the strete
Unto a smyth, men clepith daun Gerveys,
That in his forge smythed plowh-harneys; 3760
He scharpeth schar and cultre bysily.
This Absolon knokketh al esily,
And seyde, "Undo, Gerveys, and that anoon."
What, who art thou?" "It am I Absolon."
"What? Absolon, what? Cristes swete tree!
Why ryse ye so rathe? benedicite,
What eyleth you? some gay gurl, God it woot,
Hath brought you thus upon the verytrot;
By seinte Noet! ye wot wel what I mene."
This Absolon ne roughte nat a bene
Of al his pleye, no word agayn he gaf;
For he hadde more tow on his distaf
Than Gerveys knew, and seyde,-"Freend so
3767. gay gurl. This appears to have been a common phrase for a young woman of light manners. In the time of Henry VIII. the lady Anne Berkeley, dissatisfied with the conduct of her daughter-in-law, lady Catherine Howard, is reported to have said of her: "By God's blessed sacrament, this gay girle will beggar my son Henry!" 3769. seinte Noet. St. Neot.
3772. tow on his distaf. This seems to have been a common proverb of the time. Tyrwhitt quotes from Froissart, "Il aura en bref temps autres estoupes en sa quenille."
That hote cultre in the chymney heere
As lene it me, I have therwith to doone;
I wol it bring agayn to the ful soone."
Gerveys answerde, "Certes, were it gold,
Or in a poke nobles al untold,
Ye schul him have, as I am trewe smyth.
Ey, Cristes fote! what wil ye do therwith?"
"Therof," quod Absolon, "be as be may;
I schal wel telle it the to morwe day;"
And caughte the cultre by the colde stele.
Ful soft out at the dore he gan it stele,
And wente unto the carpenteres wal.
He cowheth first, and knokketh therwithal
Upon the wyndow, right as he dede er.
This Alisoun answerde, "Who is ther
That knokkest so? I warant it a theef."
"Why nay," quod he, "God woot, my sweete leef,
I am thyn Absolon, o my derlyng.
Of gold," quod he, "I have the brought a ryng;
My mooder gaf it me, so God me save!
Ful fyn it is, and therto wel i-grave;
This wol I give the, if thou me kisse."
This Nicholas was rise for to pysse,
And thought he wold amenden al the jape,
He schulde kisse his ers or that he skape.
And up the wyndow dyde he hastily,
And out his ers putteth he pryvely
Over the buttok, to the haunche bon.
And therwith spak this clerk, this Absolon,
"Spek, sweete bryd, I wot nat wher thou art."
This Nicholas anon let flee a fart,
As gret as it had ben a thundir dent,
And with that strook he was almost i-blent;
And he was redy with his yren hoot,
And Nicholas amid the ers he smoot.
Of goth the skyn an hande-brede aboute,
The hoote cultre brente so his toute;
And for the smert he wende for to dye;
As he were wood, anon he gan to crye,
"Help, watir, watir, help, for Goddes herte!"
This carpenter out of his slumber sterte,
And herd on crye watir, as he wer wood,
And thought, "Allas, now cometh Noes flood!"
He sit him up withoute wordes mo,
And with his ax he smot the corde a-two;
And doun he goth; he fond nowthir to selle
No breed ne ale, til he com to the selle
Upon the floor, and ther aswoun he lay.
Up styrt hir Alisoun, and Nicholay,
And cryden, "out and harrow!" in the strete.
The neyghebours bothe smal and grete
In ronnen, for to gauren on this man,
That yet aswowne lay, bothe pale and wan;
For with the fal he brosten had his arm.
But stond he muste to his owne harm,
For whan he spak, he was anon born doun
With heende Nicholas and Alisoun.
They tolden every man that he was wood;
He was agast and feerd of Noes flood
Thurgh fantasie, that of his vanité
He hadde i-bought him knedyng tubbes thre,
And hadde hem hanged in the roof above;
And that he preyed hem for Goddes love
To sitten in the roof par compaignye.
The folk gan lawhen at his fantasye;
Into the roof they kyken, and they gape,
And torne al his harm into a jape.
For whatsoever the carpenter answerde,
It was for nought, no man his resoun herde,
With othis greet he was so sworn adoun,
That he was holden wood in al the toun.
For every clerk anon right heeld with othir;
They seyde, "The man was wood, my leeve bro-
And every man gan lawhen at his stryf [ther;"
Thus swyved was the carpenteres wyf
For al his kepyng and his gelousye;
And Absolon hath kist hir nethir ye;
And Nicholas is skaldid in his towte.
This tale is doon, and God save al the route.
THE PROLOGE OF THE REEVE.
He gan to grucche and blamed it a lite. "So theek," quod he, "ful wel coude I the quyte With bleryng of a prowd mylleres ye,
If that me luste speke of ribaudye.
But yk am old; me list not pley for age;
Gras tyme is doon, my foddir is now forage.
My whyte top writeth myn olde
yeeres;
Myn hert is al so moulyd as myn heeres;
But yit I fare as doth an open-ers;
That ilke fruyt is ever lenger the wers,
Til it be rote in mullok or in stree.
We olde men, I drede, so fare we,
Til we be roten, can we nat be rype;
We hoppen alway, whil the world wol pype;
For in oure wil ther stiketh ever a nayl,
To have an hoor heed and a greene tayl,
As hath a leek; for though oure might be doon,
Oure wil desireth folye ever in oon;
For whan we may nat do, than wol we speke,
Yet in oure aisshen old is fyr i-reke.
Foure gledys have we, which I schal devyse,
Avanting, lyyng, angur, coveytise.
This foure sparkys longen unto eelde.
Oure olde lymes mowen be unweelde,
But wil ne schal nat fayle us, that is soth.
And yet I have alwey a coltes toth,
As many a yeer as it is passed henne,
Syn that my tappe of lyf bygan to renne.
For sikirlik, whan I was born, anon
Deth drough the tappe of lyf, and leet it goon;
And now so longe hath the tappe i-ronne,
Til that almost al empty is the tonne.
The streem of lyf now droppeth on the chymbe.
The sely tonge may wel rynge and chimbe
Of wrecchednes, that passed is ful yoore:
With olde folk, sauf dotage, is no more."
Whan that oure Host had herd this sermonyng, He gan to speke as lordly as a kyng, And seyde," What amounteth al this wit? What? schul we speke al day of holy wryt? 3900 The devyl made a reve for to preche, Or of a sowter a schipman or a leche.
3902. Ex sutore nauclerus and ex sutore medicus were both popular proverbs, and are found in medieval Latin writers.
Sey forth thi tale, and tarye nat the tyme;
Lo heer is Depford, and it is passed prime;
Lo Grenewich, ther many a schrewe is inne;
It were al tyme thi tale to bygynne."
"Now, sires," quod this Osewold the Reeve.
pray yow alle, that noon of you him greeve,
Though I answere, and somwhat sette his howve,
For leeful is with force force to schowve.
This dronken Myllere hath i-tolde us heer,
How that bygiled was a carpenter,
Peraventure in scorn, for I am oon;
And by your leve, I schal him quyte anoon.
Right in his cherles termes wol I speke;
pray to God his nekke mot to-breke!
He can wel in myn eye see a stalke,
But in his owne he can nought seen a balke."
AT Trompyngtoun, nat fer fro Cantebrigge,
Ther goth a brook, and over that a brigge,
Upon the whiche brook ther stant a melle:
And this is verray sothe that I you telle.
A meller was ther dwellyng many a day,
As eny pecok he was prowd and gay;
Pipen he coude, and fisshe, and nettys beete,
And turne cuppes, wrastle wel, and scheete.
Ay by his belt he bar a long panade,
And of a swerd ful trenchaunt was the blade.
A joly popper bar he in his pouche;
And sche was proud and pert as is a pye.
A ful fair sighte was ther on hem two;
On haly dayes bifore hir wolde he go
With his typet y-bounde aboute his heed;
And sche cam aftir in a gyte of reed,
And Symkyn hadde hosen of the same.
Ther durste no wight clepe hir but madame;
Was noon so hardy walkyng by the weye.
That with hir dorste rage or elles pleye,
But if he wold be slayn of Symekyn
With panade, or with knyf, or boydekyn;
For gelous folk ben perilous everemo,
Algate they wolde here wyves wende so.
And eek for sche was somdel smoterlich,
Sche was as deyne as water in a dich,
As ful of hokir, and of bissemare.
Hir thoughte ladyes oughten hir to spare,
What for hir kynreed and hir nortelrye,
That sche had lerned in the nonnerye.
O doughter hadden they betwix hem two,
Of twenti yeer, withouten eny mo,
Savyng a child that was of half yer age,
In cradil lay, and was a proper page.
This wenche thikke and wel i-growen was,
With camoys nose, and eyghen gray as glas;
And buttokkes brode, and brestes round and hye,
But right fair was hir heer, I wol nat lye.
The persoun of the toun, for sche was feir,
In purpos was to maken hir his heir,
Ther was no man for perel durst him touche. 3930 Bothe of his catel and his mesuage,
A Scheffeld thwitel bar he in his hose.
Round was his face, and camois was his nose.
As pyled as an ape was his skulle.
He was a market-beter at the fulle.
Ther durste no wight hand upon him legge,
That he ne swor anon he schuld abegge.
A theef he was for soth of corn and mele,
And that a sleigh, and usyng for to stele.
His name was hoote deynous Symekyn.
A wyf he hadde, come of noble kyn;
The persoun of the toun hir fader was.
With hire he gaf ful many a panne of bras,
For that Symkyn schuld in his blood allye.
Sche was i-fostryd in a nonnerye;
For Smykyn wolde no wyf, as he sayde,
But sche were wel i-norissched and a mayde,
To saven his estaat and yomanrye.
3904. passed prime. Tyrwhitt reads half-way prime, and observes, "In the discourse, &c. § xiv., I have supposed that this means half past prime, about half an hour after seven A.M., the half way between Prime and Terce. In the fictitious Modus tenendi parliamentum, a book not much older than Chaucer, hora media prima seems to be used in the same sense. c. de diebus et horis parliamenti. Ms. Cotton. Nero. D. vi. On common days Parliamentum d-bet inchoari hora media prime-in diebus festivis hora prima propter divinum servitium. In a conteniporary French translation of this treatise, Ms. Harl. 305, hora media primæ is rendered a la my heure le prime; in an old Eng.
lish version, Ms. Harl. 930, the oure of myd pryme; and in another, Ms. Harl. 1309, middle prime time. Our author uses prime large, ver. 10,674, to signify that prime was considerably past."
3909. sette his howve. The same as set his cap. See 1. 588.
The Reeves Tale. This was a very popular story in the middle ages, and is found under several different forms. It occurs frequently in the jest and story books of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries Boccacio has given it in the Decameron, evidently from a fabliau, which has been printed in Barbazan under the title of De Gombert et des deux clers. Chaucer took the story from another fabliau, which I have printed and first pointed out to notice in my Anecdota Literaria, p. 15.
And straunge made it of hir mariage.
His purpos was to bystow hir hye
Into som worthy blood of ancetrye;
For holy chirche good moot be despendid
On holy chirche blood that is descendid.
Therfore he wolde his joly blood honoure,
Though that he schulde holy chirche devoure.
Gret soken hath this meller, out of doute,
With whete and malt, of al the lond aboute;
And namely ther was a gret collegge,
Men clepe it the Soler-halle of Cantebregge,
Ther was here whete and eek here malt i-grounde.
And on a day it happed in a stounde,
Syk lay the mauncyple on a maledye,
Men wenden wisly that he schulde dye;
For which this meller stal bothe mele and corn
A thousend part more than byforn.
For ther biforn he stal but curteysly;
But now he is a theef outrageously.
For which the wardeyn chidde and made fare,
But therof sette the meller not a tare;
He crakked boost, and swor it was nat so.
Thanne weren there poore scoleres tuo,
That dwelten in the halle of which I seye;
Testyf they were, and lusty for to pleye;
And, oonly for here mirthe and revelrye,
Uppon the wardeyn bysily they crye,
To geve hem leve but a litel stound
3954. madame. In the description of the nun (1. 378), who also prided herself upon her gentility, Chaucer saysIt is right fair for to be clept madame, And for to go to vigilies al byfore.
3988. the Soler-halle. There was a tradition in the University of Cambridge, at least as early as the time of Caius, and it may perhaps be correct, that the college alluded to by Chaucer was Clare Hall. See Caius, Hist. Acad. p. 57, and Fuller's Hist. of the Univ. of Camb. p. 86 (ed. 1840). The name Soler-halle, of course, means the hall with the soler or upper story, which, as Warton observes, would be a sufficient mark of distinction in early
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