(300)

Ire is a sinne, oon of the grete of sevene,
Abhominable un-to the god of hevene;
And to him-self it is destruccion.
This every lewed viker or person
Can seye, how Ire engendreth homicyde.
Ire is, in sooth, executour of pryde. 2010
I coude of Ire seye so muche sorwe,
My tale sholde laste til to-morwe.
And therfor preye I god bothe day and
night,
2013
An irous man, god sende him litel might!
It is greet harm and, certes, gret pitee,
To sette an irous man in heigh degree.

Whilom ther was an irous potestat,
As seith Senek, that, duringe his estaat,
Up-on a day out riden knightes two, (311)
And as fortune wolde that it were so, 2020
That oon of hem cam hoom. that other
noght.

Anon the knight bifore the juge is broght, That seyde thus, "thou hast thy felawe slayn,

For which I deme thee to the deeth, certayn."

And to another knight comanded he, 2025 "Go lede him to the deeth, I charge thee." And happed, as they wente by the weye Toward the place ther he sholde deye, The knight cam, which men wenden had be deed. (321) Thanne thoughte they, it was the beste reed, 2030

To lede hem bothe to the juge agayn. They seiden, "lord, the knight ne hath nat slayn

His felawe; here he standeth hool alyve."

Ye shul be deed," quod he, "so moot I thryve!

That is to seyn, bothe oon, and two, and three!"

2035 And to the firste knight right thus spak he, "I dampned thee, thou most algate be deed.

And thou also most nedes lese thyn heed, For thou art cause why thy felawe deyth." And to the thridde knight right thus he seyth, (332) 2040 "Thou hast nat doon that I comanded thee."

And thus he dide don sleen hem alle three. Irous Cambyses was eek dronkelewe,

(340)

Seyde on a day bitwix hem two right thus:
"A lord is lost, if he be vicious;
And dronkenesse is eek a foul record
Of any man, and namely in a lord. 2050
Ther is ful many an eye and many an ere
Awaiting on a lord, and he noot where.
For goddes love, drink more attemprely
Wyn maketh man to lesen wrecchedly
His minde, and eek his limes everichon."
"The revers shaltouse," quod he, "anon;
And preve it, by thyn owene experience,
That wyn ne dooth to folk no swich
offence.
(350) 2058
Ther is no wyn bireveth me my might
Of hand ne foot, ne of myn eyen sight "--
And, for despyt, he drank ful muchel more
An hondred part than he had doon bifore;
And right anon, this irous cursed wrecche
Leet this knightes sone bifore him fecche,
Comandinge him he sholde bifore him

Now Thomas, leve brother, lef thyn ire; Thou shalt me finde as just as is a squire. Hold nat the develes knyf ay at thyn herte; Thyn angre dooth thee al to sore smerte; But shewe to me al thy confessioun.'

'Nay,' quod the syke man, 'by Seint Simoun ! 2094

I have be shriven this day at my curat; I have him told al hoolly myn estat ; Nedeth na-more to speke of it,' seith he, 'But if me list of myn humilitee.'

(390)

Than gooth the world al to destruccioun.
For who-so wolde us fro this world bireve,
So god me save, Thomas, by your leve,
He wolde bireve out of this world the sonne.
For who can teche and werchen as we
conne?
2114

And that is nat of litel tyme,' quod he;
'But sith that Elie was, or Elisee,
Han freres been, that finde I of record,
In charitee, y-thanked be our lord. (410)
Now Thomas, help, for seinte Charitee!'
And doun anon he sette him on his knee.

This syke man wex wel ny wood for ire ; He wolde that the frere had been on-fire With his false dissimulacioun. 'Swich thing as is in my possessioun,' Quod he, that may I yeven, and non other.

2125

Ye sey me thus, how that I am your brother?'

'Ye, certes,' quod the frere, 'trusteth weel;

I took our dame our lettre with our seel.'

Un-to your holy covent whyl I live, 2130 And in thyn hand thou shalt it have anoon;

On this condicioun, and other noon, That thou departe it so, my dere brother, That every frere have also muche as other. This shaltou swere on thy professioun, With-outen fraude or cavillacioun.' 2136 'I swere it,' quod this frere, 'upon my feith!'

And ther-with-al his hand in his he leith: 'Lo, heer my feith! in me shal be no lak.' 'Now thanne, put thyn hand doun by my bak,' (432) 2140 Seyde this man, and grope wel bihinde ; Bynethe my buttok ther shaltow finde A thing that I have hid in privetee.'

'A!' thoghte this frere, this shal go with me!'

And doun his hand he launcheth to the clifte, 2145

In hope for to finde ther a yifte. (438) And whan this syke man felte this frere Aboute his tuwel grope there and here, Amidde his hand he leet the frere a fart. Ther nis no capul, drawinge in a cart, 2150 That mighte have lete a fart of swich

Ye loken as the wode were ful of thevis, Sit doun anon, and tel me what your greef is,

And it shal been amended, if I may.' 2175

'I have,' quod he, 'had a despyt this day, God yelde yow! adoun in your village, That in this world is noon so povre a page, That he nolde have abhominacioun (471) Of that I have receyved in your toun, 2180 And yet ne greveth me no-thing so sore, As that this olde cherl, with lokkes hore, Blasphemed hath our holy covent eke.' 'Now, maister,' quod this lord, 'I yow biseke.'

'No maister, sire,' quod he, 'but servitour, 2185 Thogh I have had in scole swich honour. God lyketh nat that "Raby" men us calle, Neither in market ne in your large halle,' 'No fors,' quod he, 'but tel me al your grief.' (481) 'Sire,' quod this frere, 'an odious meschief 2190 This day bitid is to myn ordre and me, And so per consequens to ech degree Of holy chirche, god amende it sone!' 'Sir,' quod the lord, 'ye woot what is to done.

Distempre yow noght, ye be my confessour;

2195 Ye been the salt of the erthe and the

savour.

For goddes love your pacience ye holde, Tel me your grief:' and he anon him tolde, (490) As ye han herd biforn, ye woot wel what. The lady of the hous ay stille sat, 2200 Til she had herd al what the frere sayde: 'Ey, goddes moder,' quod she, 'blisful mayde!

Is ther oght elles? telle me feithfully.' 'Madame,' quod he, 'how thinketh yow her-by?'

2230

As of the soun or savour of a fart? (518)
O nyce proude cherl, I shrewe his face!
Lo, sires,' quod the lord, with harde grace,
'Who ever herde of swich a thing er now?
To every man y-lyke? tel me how.
It is an inpossible, it may nat be!
Ey, nyce cherl, god lete him never thee!
The rumblinge of a fart, and every soun,
Nis but of eir reverberacioun,
And ever it wasteth lyte and lyte awey.
Ther is no man can demen, by my fey,
If that it were departed equally.
What, lo, my cherl, lo, yet how shrewedly
Un-to my confessour to-day he spak!
I holde him certeyn a demoniak! 2240
Now ete your mete, and lat the cherl go
pleye,

2234

(529)

Lat him go honge himself, a devel weye!'

Now stood the lordes squyer at the bord, That carf his mete, and herde, word by word, 2244

Of alle thinges of which I have yow sayd.
'My lord,' quod he, 'be ye nat yvel apayd;
I coude telle, for a goune-clooth,
To yow, sir frere, so ye be nat wrooth, (540)

And ye shul seen, up peril of my lyf,
By preve which that is demonstratif,
That equally the soun of it wol wende,
And eek the stink, un-to the spokes
ende;

Save that this worthy man, your con2275 fessour,

By-cause he is a man of greet honour,
Shal have the firste fruit, as reson is;
The noble usage of freres yet is this, (570)
The worthy men of hem shul first be
served;

2279

And certeinly, he hath it weel deserved.
He hath to-day taught us so muchel good
With preching in the pulpit ther he stood,
That I may vouche-sauf, I sey for me,
He hadde the firste smel of fartes three,
And so wolde al his covent hardily; 2285
He bereth him so faire and holily.'

The lord, the lady, and ech man, save (579) the frere, Seyde that Jankin spak, in this matere, As wel as Euclide or [as] Ptholomee. Touchinge this cherl, they seyde, subtiltee And heigh wit made him speken as he spak;

2291

He nis no fool, ne no demoniak. And Jankin hathy-wonne a newe goune.— we been almost at My tale is doon 2294 toune.

'SIR clerk of Oxenford,' our hoste sayde, 'Ye ryde as coy and stille as dooth a mayde,

Were newe spoused, sitting at the bord; This day ne herde I of your tonge a word. I trowe ye studie aboute som sophyme, 5 But Salomon seith, "every thing hath tyme."

For goddes sake, as beth of bettre chere, It is no tyme for to studien here. Telle us som mery tale, by your fey; For what man that is entred in a pley, 10 He nedes moot unto the pley assente. But precheth nat, as freres doon in Lente, To make us for our olde sinnes wepe, No that thy tale make us nat to slepe. Telle us som mery thing of aventures;Your termes, your colours, and your

Kepe hem in stoor til so be ye endyte Heigh style, as whan that men to kinges wryte.

Speketh so pleyn at this tyme, I yow preye,
That we may understonde what ye seye.'
This worthy clerk benignely answerde,
'Hoste,' quod he, I am under your yerde;
Ye han of us as now the governaunce,
And therfor wol I do yow obeisaunce,
As fer as reson axeth, hardily.

I wol yow telle a tale which that I
Lerned at Padowe of a worthy clerk,
As preved by his wordes and his werk.

25

But deeth, that wol nat suffre us dwellen heer

But as it were a twinkling of an yë, Hem bothe hath slayn, and alle shul we dye.

But forth to tellen of this worthy man, That taughte me this tale, as I bigan, 40 I seye that first with heigh style he endyteth,

Er he the body of his tale wryteth,

A proheme, in the which discryveth he Pemond, and of Saluces the contree, 44 And speketh of Apennyn, the hilles hye, That been the boundes of West Lumbardye,

And of Mount Vesulus in special,

Where as the Poo, out of a welle smal,
Taketh his firste springing and his sours,
That estward ay encresseth in his cours 50
To Emelward, to Ferrare, and Venyse:
The which a long thing were to devyse.
And trewely, as to my jugement,
Me thinketh it a thing impertinent,
Save that he wol conveyen his matere : 55
But this his tale, which that ye may here.'