Wo: And to him-self he maketh routhe and I wil aryse, and auntre it, by my fayth! Sone after this the wyf hir routing leet, And gan awake, and wente hir out to pisse, 4215 And cam agayn, and gan hir cradel misse, And groped heer and ther, but she fond noon. 'Allas!' quod she, 'I hadde almost misgoon; I hadde almost gon to the clerkes bed. Ey, ben'cite! thanne hadde I foule y-sped: ' And forth she gooth til she the cradel fond. (301) 4221 She gropeth alwey forther with hir hond, And fond the bed, and thoghte noght but good, By-cause that the cradel by it stood, 4224 And niste wher she was, for it was derk; But faire and wel she creep in to the clerk, And lyth ful stille, and wolde han caught a sleep. With-inne a whyl this John the clerk up 4228 leep, And on this gode wyf he leyth on sore. So mery a fit ne hadde she nat ful yore; This joly lyf han thise two clerkes lad Til that the thridde cok bigan to singe. Aleyn wex wery in the daweninge, 4234 For he had swonken al the longe night; And soyde, 'far wel, Malin, swete wight! The day is come, I may no lenger byde; But evermo, wher so I go or ryde, I is thyn awen clerk, swa have I seel!' 'Now dere lemman,' quod she, 'go, far weel! (320) 4240 But er thou go, o thing I wol thee telle, Whan that thou wendest homward by the melle, Right at the entree of the dore bihinde, Thou shalt a cake of half a busshel finde That was y-maked of thyn owne mele, Which that I heelp my fader for to stelc. And, gode lemman, god thee save and kepe!' 4247 6 By god,' thoghte he, al wrang I havo misgon; (332) Myn heed is toty of my swink to-night, That maketh me that I go nat aright. 4254 I woot wel by the cradel, I have misgo, Heer lyth the miller and his wyf also.' And forth he goth, a twenty devel way, Un-to the bed ther-as the miller lay. He wende have cropen by his felawo John; And by the miller in he creep anon, 4260 And caughte hym by the nekke, and softe he spak : (341) He seyde, thou, John, thou swynes-heed, awak For Cristes saule, and heer a noble game. For by that lord that called is seint Jame, As I have thryes, in this shorte night, 4265 Swyved the milleres doghter bolt-upright, Whyl thow hast as a coward been agast.' 'Ye, false harlot,' quod the miller, 'hast? A false traitour! falso clerk!' quod he, Thou shalt be deed, by goddes dignitec! Who dorste be so bold to disparage (351) My doghter, that is come of swich linage?' And by the throte-bolle he caughte Alayn. And he hente hym despitously agayn, And on the nose he smoot him with his fest. 4275 Doun ran the blody streem up-on his brest; And in the floor, with nose and mouth to-broke, They walwe as doon two pigges in a poke. And up they goon, and doun agayn anon, Til that the miller sporned at a stoon, 4280 And doun he fil bakward up-on his wyf, That wiste no-thing of this nyce stryf; For she was falle aslepe a lyte wight (363) With John the clerk, that waked hadde al night. And with the fal, out of hir sleep she breyde4285 'Help, holy croys of Bromeholm,' she seyde, 'In manus tuas! lord, to thee I calle! Awak, Symond! the feend is on us falle, Myn herte is broken, help, I nam but deed; There lyth oon up my wombe and up myn heed; 4290 Help, Simkin, for the false clerkes fighte.' This John sterte up as faste as ever he mighte, (372) And at the mille yet they toke hir cake Of half a busshel flour, ful wel y-bake. Thus is the proude miller wel y-bete, And hath y-lost the grinding of the whete, And payed for the soper every-deel 4315 Of Aleyn and of John, that bette him weel. His wyf is swyved, and his doghter als; Lo, swich it is a miller to be fals! And therfore this proverbe is scyd ful sooth, 4319 'Him thar nat wene wel that yvel dooth; A gylour shal him-self bigyled be.' (401) And God, that sitteth heighe in magestee, Save al this companye grete and smale! Thus have I quit the miller in my tale. Here is ended the Reves tale. THE COOK'S PROLOGUE. The prologe of the Cokes tale. (9) For herberwing by nighte is perilous. Our host answerde, and seide, 'Igraunte Now telle on, Roger, loke that it be good; For many a pastee hastow laten blood, And many a Jakke of Dover hastow sold That hath been twyes hoot and twyes cold. Of many a pilgrim hastow Cristes curs, For of thy persly yet they fare the wors, That they han eten with thy stubbel-goos; For in thy shoppe is many a flye loos. (28) Now telle on, gentil Roger, by thy name. But yet I pray thee, be nat wrooth for game, A man may seye ful sooth in game and pley.' 4355 'Thou seist ful sooth,' quod Roger, 'by my fey, But "sooth pley, quaad pley," as the Fleming seith; (33) And ther-fore, Herry Bailly, by thy feith, Be thou nat wrooth, er we departen heer, Though that my tale be of an hostileer. But nathelees I wol nat telle it yit, 4361 But er we parte, y-wis, thou shalt be quit.' And ther-with-al he lough and made chere, And seyde his tale, as ye shul after here. And gadered him a meinee of his sort And ther they setten steven for to mete see. 4391 This joly prentis with his maister bood, Til he were ny out of his prentishood, 4400 Al were he snibbed bothe erly and late, And somtyme lad with revel to Newgate; But atte laste his maister him bithoghte, And steleth from us, what prively slepinge, And what thurgh necligence in our wakinge, As dooth the streem, that turneth never agayn, Descending fro the montaigne in-to playn. 32 To stonde in this cas at my jugement. Acquiteth yow, and holdeth your biheste, Than have ye doon your devoir atte leste.' 'Hoste,' quod he, 'depardieux ich assente, To breke forward is not myn entente. 40 He sholde him-selven usen it by right; 44 In his Epistelles, that been ful olde. དང What sholde I tellen hem, sin they ben tolde? In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcion, 70 75 86 How that the cursed king Antiochus The Prologe of the Mannes Tale O hateful harm! condicion of poverte. With thurst, with cold, with hunger so confounded! 100 |