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Or elles fallen in swiche maladie, That atte laste certainly they die.

Infinite ben the sorwes and the teres
Of olde folk, and folk of tendre yeres,
In all the toun for deth of this Theban:
For him ther wepeth both childe and man.
So gret a weping was ther non certain,
Whan Hector was ybrought, all fresh yslain
To Troy, alas! the pitee that was there,
Cratching of chekes, rending eke of here.
"Why woldest thou be ded?" thise women crie,
"And baddest gold ynough, and Emelie."

No man might gladen this duk Theseus,
Saving his olde fader Egeus,
That knew this worldes transmutatioun,
As he had seen it chaungen up and doun,
Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse;
And shewed him ensample and likenesse.

"Right as ther died never man" (quod he)
"That he ne lived in erthe in som degree,
Right so ther lived never man" (he seyd)
"In all this world, that somtime he ne deyd.
This world n'is but a thurghfare ful of wo,
And we ben pilgrimes, passing to and fro:
Deth is an end of every worldes sore."

And over all this yet said he mochel more
To this effect, ful wisely to enhort
The peple, that they shuld hem recomfort.

Duk Theseus with all his besy cure
He casteth now, wher that the sepulture
Of good Arcite may best ymaked be,
And eke most honourable in his degree.
And at the last he toke conclusion,
That ther as first Arcite and Palamon
Hadden for love the bataille hem betwene,
That in that selve grove, sote and grene,
Ther as he hadde his amorous desires,
His complaint, and for love his hote fires,
He wolde make a fire, in which the office
Of funeral he might all accomplise;

And lete anon commande to hack and hewe
The okes old, and lay hem on a rew
In culpons, wel araied for to brenne.
His officers with swifte feet they renne
And ride anon at his commaudement,
And after this, this Theseus hath sent
After a bere, and it all overspradde

With cloth of gold, the richest that he hadde;
And of the same suit he cladde Arcite.
Upon his hondes were his gloves white,
Eke on his hed a croune of laurer grene,
And in his hond a swerd ful bright and kene.
He laid him bare the visage on the bere,
Therwith he wept that pitee was to here.
And for the peple shulde seen him alle,
Whan it was day he brought him to the halle,
That roreth of the crying and the soun.

Tho came this woful Theban Palamon
With flotery berd, and ruggy asshy heres,
In clothes blake, ydropped all with teres,
And (passing over of weping Emelie)
The reufullest of all the compagnie.

And in as much as the service shuld be
The more noble and riche in his degree,
Duk Theseus let forth three stedes bring,
That trapped were in stele all glittering,
And covered with the armes of Dan Arcite.
And eke upon these stedes gret and white
Ther saten folk, of which on bare his sheld,
Another his spere up in his hondes held;

The thridde bare with him his bow Turkeis,
Of brent gold was the cas and the harnies:
And riden forth a pas with sorweful chere
Toward the grove, as ye shul after here.

The noblest of the Grekes that ther were
Upon hir shuldres carrieden the bere,
With slacke pas, and eyen red and wete,
Thurghout the citee, by the maister strete,
That sprad was all with black, and wonder hie
Right of the same is all the strete ywrie.
Upon the right hand went olde Egeus,
And on that other side duk Theseus,
With vessels in hir hond of gold ful fine,
All ful of hony, milk, and blood, and wine;
Eke Palamon, with ful gret.compagnie :
And after that came woful Emelie,
With fire in hond, as was that time the gise,
To don the office of funeral service.

High labour, and ful gret apparailling
Was at the service of that fire making,
That with his grene top the Heven raught,
And twenty fadom of brede the armes straught:
This is to sain, the boughes were so brode.
Of stre first ther was laied many a lode.

But how the fire was maked up on highte,
And eke the names how the trees highte,
As oke, fir, birch, aspe, alder, holm, poplere,
Wilow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestein, lind, laurere
Maple, thorn, beche, hasel, ew, whipultre,
How they were feld, shall not be told for me;
Ne how the goddes runnen up and doun
Disherited of her habitatioun,

In which they woneden in rest and pees,
Nimphes, Faunes, and Amadriades ;
Ne how the bestes, and the briddes alle
Fledden for fere, whan the wood gan falle;
Ne how the ground agast was of the light,
That was not wont to see the Sonne bright;
Ne how the fire was couched first with stre,
And than with drie stickes cloven a-thre,
And than with grene wood and spicerie,
And than with cloth of gold and with perrie,
And gerlonds hanging with ful many a flour,
The mirre, th' encense also with swete odour;
Ne how Arcita lay among all this,
Ne what richesse about his body is;
Ne how that Emelie, as was the gise,
Put in the fire of funeral service;

Ne how she swounded when she made the fire,
Ne what she spake, ne what was hir desire;
Ne what jewelles men in the fire caste,
Whan that the fire was gret and brente faste;
Ne how som cast hir sheld, and som hir spere,
And of hir vestimentes, which they were,
And cuppes full of wine, and milk, and blood,
Into the fire, that brent as it were wood;
Ne how the Grekes with a huge route
Three times riden all the fire aboute
Upon the left hond, with a loud shouting,
And thries with hir speres clatering;
And thries how the ladies gan to crie;
Ne how that led was homeward Emelie;
Ne how Arcite is brent to ashen cold;
Ne how the liche-wake was yhold
All thilke night, ne how the Grekes play.
The wake-plaies ne kepe I not to say:
Who wrestled best naked, with oile enoint,
Ne who that bare him best in no disjoint.
I woll not tellen eke how they all gon
Home til Athenes whan the play is don;

But shortly to the point now wol I wende,
And maken of my longe tale an ende.

By processe and by lengthe of certain yeres
All stenten is the mourning and the teres
Of Grekes, by on general assent.
Than semeth me ther was a parlement
At Athenes, upon certain points and cas:
Amonges the which points yspoken was
To have with certain contrees alliance,
And have of Thebanes fully obeisance.
For which this noble Theseus anon
Let senden after gentil Palamon,

Unwist of him, what was the cause and why:
But in his black clothes sorwefully

He came at his commandement on hie;

Tho sente Theseus for Emelie.

What maketh this but Jupiter the king?
The which is prince, and cause of alle thing,
Converting alle unto his propre wille,
From which it is derived, soth to telle.
And here-againes no creature on live
Of no degree availleth for to strive.
Than is it wisdom, as it thinketh me,
To maken vertue of necessite,

And take it wel, that we may not eschewe,
And namely that to us all is dewe.
And who so grutcheth ought, he doth folie,
And rebel is to him that all may gie.
And certainly a man hath most honour
To dien in his excellence and flour,
Whan he is siker of his goode name.

Than hath he don his frend, ne him, no shame;

Whan they were set, and husht was al the place, And glader ought his frend ben of his deth.

And Theseus abiden hath a space,

Or any word came from his wise brest

His eyen set be ther as was his lest,
And with a sad visage he siked still,
And after that right thus he sayd his will.
"The firste mover of the cause above
Whan he firste made the fayre chaine of love,
Gret was th' effect, and high was his cutent;
Wel wist he why, and what therof he ment:
For with that fayre chaine of love he bond
The fire, the air, the watre, and the lond
In certain bondes, that they may not flee:
The same prince and mover eke" (quod he)
"Hath stablisht, in this wretched world adoun,
Certain of dayes and duration

To all that are engendred in this place,
Over the which day they ne mow not pace,
Ai mow they yet dayes wel abrege,
Ther nedeth non autoritee allege,
For it is preved by experience,
But that me last declaren my sentence.
Than may men by this ordre well discerne,
That thilke mover stable is and eterne.
Wel may men knowen, but it be a fool,
That every part deriveth from his hool.
For nature hath not taken his beginning
Of no partie ne cantel of a thing,
But of a thing that parfit is and stable,
Descending so, til it be corrumpable.
And therfore of his wise purveyance
He hath so wel beset his ordinance,
That speces of thinges and progressions
Shullen enduren by successions,
And not eterne, withouten any lie:

This maiest thou understand and seen at eye.
Lo the oke, that hath so long a norishing
Fro the time that it ginneth first to spring,
And hath so long a lif, as ye may see,
Yet at the laste wasted is the tree.
Considereth eke, how that the harde stone
Under our feet, on which we trede and gon,
It wasteth, as it lieth by the wey.
The brode river somtime wexeth drey.
The grete tounes see we wane and wende.
Than may ye see that all thing hath an ende.
Of man and woman see we wel also,
That nedes in on of the termes two,
That is to sayn, in youthe or elles age,
He mote be ded, the king as shall a page;
Som in his bed, som in the depe see,
Som in the large field, as ye may see:
Ther helpeth nought, all goth that ilke wey:
Than may I sayn that alle thing mote dey.

Whan with honour is yolden up his breth,
Than whan his name appalled is for age;
For all foryetten is his vassallage.
Than is it best, as for a worthy fame,
To dien whan a man is best of name.
The contrary of all this is wilfulnesse.
Why grutchen we? why have we hevinesse,
That good Arcite, of chivalry the flour,
Departed is, with dutee and honour,
Out of this foule prison of this lif?
Why grutchen here his cosin and his wif
Of his welfare, that loven him so wel?
Can he hem thank? nay, God wot, never a del,
That both his soule, and eke hemself offend,
And yet they mow hir lustes not to amend.
"What may I conclude of this longe serie,
But after sorwe I rede us to be merie,
And thanken Jupiter of all his grace.
And er that we departen from this place,
I rede that we make of sorwes two

O parfit joye lasting evermo:

And loketh now wher most sorwe is herein,
Ther wol I first amenden and begin.

"Sister," (quod he)" this is my full assent,
With all th' avis here of my parlement,
That gentil Palamon, your owen knight,
That serveth you with will, and herte, and might,
And ever hath don, sin ye first him knew,
That ye shall of your grace upon him rew,
And taken him for husbond and for lord:
Lene me your hand, for this is oure accord.
"Let see now of your womanly pitee.
He is a kinges brothers sone pardee,
And though he were a poure bachelere,
Sin he hath served you so many a yere,
And had for you so gret adversite,

It moste ben considered, leveth me.
For gentil mercy oweth to passen right."
Than sayd he thus to Palamon the knight;
"I trow ther nedeth litel sermoning
To maken you assenten to this thing.
Cometh ner, and take your lady by the hond."
Betwixen hem was maked anon the bond,
That highte matrimoine or mariage,
By all the conseil of the baronage.
And thus with alle blisse and melodie
Hath Palamon ywedded Emelie.

And God that all this wide world hath wrought,
Send him his love, that hath it dere ybought.
For now is Palamon in alle wele,
Living in blisse, in richesse, and in hele,
And Emelie him loveth so tendrely,
And he hire serveth al so gentilly,

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

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

THE MILLERES PROLOGUE.

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

The Miller that for-dronken was all pale,
So that unethes upon his hors he sat,
He n'old avalen neither hood ne hat,
Ne abiden no man for his curtesie,
But in Pilates vois he gan to crie,
And swore by armes, and by blood, and bones,
"I can a noble tale for the nones,
With which I wol now quite the knightes tale."
Our hoste saw that he was dronken of ale,
And sayd; "Abide, Robin, my leve brother,
Som better man shall tell us first another:
Abide, and let us werken thriftily."

And therfore every gentil wight I pray,
For Goddes love as deme not that I say
Of evil entent, but that I mote reherse
Hir tales alle, al be they better or werse,
Or elles falsen som of my matere.
And therfore who so list it not to here,
Turne over the leef, and chese another tale,
For he shal find ynow bothe gret and smale,
Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse,
And eke moralite, and holinesse.
Blameth not me, if that ye chese amis.
The Miller is a cherl, ye know wel this,
So was the Reve, (and many other mo)
And harlotrie they tolden bothe two.
Aviseth you now, and put me out of blame;
And eke men shuld not make ernest of game.

THE MILLERES TALE.

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

And coude a certain of conclusions
To demen by interrogations,

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

Of every thing, I may not reken alle.
This clerk was cleped hendy Nicholas;

"By Goddes soule” (quod he) “ that wol not I, Of derne love he coude and of solas; For I wol speke, or elles go my way."

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

Wite it the ale of Southwerk, I you pray :
For I wol tell a legend and a lif
Both of a carpenter and of his wif,

How that a clerk hath set the wrightes cappe."
The Reve answerd and saide," Stint thy clappe.
Let be thy lewed dronken harlotrie.
It is a sinne, and eke a gret folie
To apeiren any man, or him defame,
And eke to bringen wives in swiche a name.
Thou mayst ynough of other thinges sain."

This dronken Miller spake ful sone again,
And sayde; "Leve brother Osewold,
Who hath no wif, he is no cokewold.
But I say not therfore that thou art on;
Ther ben ful goode wives many on.
Why art thou angry with my tale now?
I have a wif parde as wel as thou,
Yet n' olde I, for the oxen in my plough,
Taken upon me more than yuough
As demen of myself that I am on;
I wol beleven wel that I am non.
An husbond shulde not ben inquisitif
Of Goddes privite, ne of his wif.
So he may finden Goddes foison there,
Of the remenant nedeth not to enquere."
What shuld I more say, but this Millere
He n'olde his wordes for no man forbere,
But told his cherles tale in his manere,
Me thinketh, that I shal reberse it here.

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

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

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

Fayre was this yonge wif, and therwithal
As any wesel hire body gent and smal.
A seint she wered, barred all of silk,

A barme-cloth eke as white as morwe milk

Upon hire lendes, ful of many a gore.
White was hire smok, and brouded all before
And eke behind on hire colere aboute
Of cole-black silk, within and eke withoute.
The tapes of hire white volupere
Were of the same suit of hire colere;

Hire fillet brode of silk, and set full hye:
And sikerly she had a likerous eye.
Ful smal ypulled were hire browes two,
And they were bent, and black as any slo.
She was wel more blisful on to see
Than is the newe perjenete tree;
And softer than the wolle is of a wether.

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

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

This Nicholas gan mercy for to crie, And spake so faire and profered him so fast, That she bire love him granted at the last, And swore hire oth by Seint Thomas of Kent, That she would ben at his commandement, Whan that she may hire leiser wel espie. "Myn husbond is so ful of jalousie, That but ye waiten wel, and be prive, I wot right wel I n'am but ded," quod she. "Ye mosten be ful derne as in this cas." "Nay, therof care you not," quod Nicholas: "A clerk had litherly beset his while, But if he coude a carpenter begile." And thus they were accorded and ysworne To waite a time, as I have said beforne Whan Nicholas had don thus every del, And thacked hire about the lendes wel, He kissed hire swete, and taketh his sautric, And plaieth fast, and maketh melodie.

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

Ful faire and thicke ben the pointes set.
And therupon he had a gay surplise,
As white as is the blosme upon the rise.

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

This Absolon, that joly was and gay,
Goth with a censer on the holy day,
Censing the wives of the parish faste;
And many a lovely loke he on hem caste,
And namely on this carpenteres wif:
To loke on hire he thought a mery lif.
She was so propre, and swete, and likerous.
I dare wel sain, if she had ben a mous,
And he a cat, he wolde hire hente anon.
This parish clerk, this joly Absolon,
Hath in his herte swiche a love-longing,
That of no wif toke he non offering;
For curtesie, he sayd, he n'olde non.

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

66

I pray you that ye-wol rewe on me;".
Ful we! accordant to his giterning.

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

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

He kembeth his lockes brode, and made him gay.
He woeth hire by menes and brocage,

And swore he wolde ben hire owen page.

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

Now bere thee wel, thou hendy Nicholas,
For Absolon may waile and sing alas.

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

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

This sely carpenter hath gret mervaile
Of Nicholas, or what thing might him aile,
And said; "I am adrad by Seint Thomas
It stondeth not aright with Nicholas:
God shilde that he died sodenly.
This world is now ful tikel sikerly.
I saw to-day a corps yborne to cherche,
That now on Monday last I saw him werche.
"Go up" (quoth he unto his knave) "anon;
Clepe at his dore, or knocke with a ston:
Loke how it is, and tell me boldely."

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

This Nicholas sat ever gaping upright, As he had kyked on the newe Mone.

Adoun he goth, and telleth his maister sone,

In what array he saw this ilke man.

This carpenter to blissen him began,
And said; "Now helpe us Seinte Frides wide.
A man wote litel what shal him betide.
This man is fallen with his astronomie
In som woodnesse or in som agonie.
I thought ay wel how that it shulde be.
Men shulde not know of Goddes privetee.
Ya blessed be alway a lewed man,
That nought but only his beleve can.
So ferd another clerk with astronomie;
He walked in the felds for to prie
Upon the sterres, what there shuld befalle,
Till he was in a marlepit yfalle.

He saw not that. But yet by Seint Thomas
Me reweth sore of hendy Nicholas :
He shal be rated of his studying,
If that I may, by Jesus, Heven king.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Of certain thing that toucheth thee and me:

I wol tell it non other man certain."

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

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

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

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

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