"Nay by my fathers soule, that shal he nat,"
Sayde the Shipman, "here shal he nat preche,
He shal no gospel glosen here ne teche.
We leven all in the gret God," quod he.
"He wolde sowen som difficultee,
Or springen cockle in our clene corne.
And therfore, hoste, I warne thee beforné,
My joly body shal a tale telle,

And I shal clinken you so mery a belle,
That I shal waken all this compagnie:
But it shal not ben of philosophie,
Ne of physike, ne termes queinte of lawe;
Ther is but litel Latin in my mawe."

THE SHIPMANNES TALE.

A MARCHANT Whilom dwelled at Seint Denise,
That riche was, for which men held him wise.
A wif he had of excellent beautee,
And compaignable, and revelous was she,
Which is a thing that causeth more dispence,
Than worth is all the chere and reverence,
That men hem don at festes and at dances.
Swiche salutations and contenances
Passen, as doth a shadwe upon a wall:
But wo is him that payen mote for all.
The sely husbond algate he mote pay,
He mote us clothe and he mote us array
All for his owen worship richely:
In which array we dancen jolily.
And if that be may not paraventure,
Or elles lust not swiche dispence endure,
But thinketh it is wasted and ylost,
Than mote another payen for our cost,
Or lene us gold, and that is perilous.

This noble marchant held a worthy hous,
For which he had all day so gret repaire
For bis largesse, and for his wif was faire,
That wonder is: but herkeneth to my tale.
Amonges all thise gestes gret and smale,
Ther was a monk, a faire man and a bold,
I trow a thritty winter he was old,

That ever in on was drawing to that place.
This yonge monk, that was so faire of face,
Acquainted was so with this goode man,
Sithen that hir firste knowlege began,
That in his hous as familier was be,
As it possible is any frend to be.
And for as mochel as this goode man
And eke this Monk, of which that I began,
Were bothe two yborne in o village,
The monk him claimeth, as for cosinage,
And he again him sayd not ones nay,
But was as glad therof, as foule of day;
For to his herte it was a gret plesance.

Thus ben they knit with eterne alliance,
And eche of hem gan other for to ensure
Of brotherhed, while that bir lif may dure,
Free was Dan John, and namely of dispence
As in that hous, and ful of diligence
To don plesance, and also gret costage:
He not forgate to yeve the leste page
In all that hous; but, after hir degree,
He yave the lord, and sithen his meinee,
Whan that he came, som maner honest thing;
For which they were as glad of his coming
As foule is fayn, whan that the Sonne up riseth.
No more of this as now, for it sufficeth.

But so befell, this marchant on a day
Shope him to maken redy his array
Toward the toun of Brugges for to fare,
To byen ther a portion of ware:

For which he hath to Paris sent anon
A messager, and praied hath Dan John
That he shuld come to Seint Denis, and pleie
With him, and with his wif, a day or tweie,
Or he to Brugges went, in alle wise.

This noble monk, of which I you devise,
Hath of his abbot, as him list, licence,
(Because he was a man of high prudence,
And eke an officer out for to ride,

To seen hir granges, and hir bernes wide)
And unto Seint Denis he cometh anon.

Who was so welcome as my lord Dan John, Our dere cousin, ful of curtesie?

With him he brought a jubbe of Malvesie,
And eke another ful of fine Vernage,
And volatile, as ay was his usage:

And thus I let hem ete, and drinke, and pleye,
This marchant and this monk, a day or tweye.

The thridde day this marchant up ariseth,
And on his nedes sadly him aviseth:
And up into his countour hous goth he,
To reken with himselven, wel may be,
Of thilke yere, how that it with him stood,
And how that he dispended had his good,
And if that he encresed were or non.
His bookes and his bagges many ou
He layth beforn him on his counting bord.
Ful riche was his tresour and his hord;
For which ful fast his countour dore he shet;
And eke he n'olde no man shuld him let
Of his accountes for the mene time:
And thus he sit, til it was passed prime.
Dan John was risen in the morwe also,
And in the gardin walketh to and fro,
And hath his thinges sayd ful curteisly.

This goode wif came walking prively
Into the gardin ther he walketh soft,
And him salueth, as she hath don oft:
A maiden child came in hire compagnie,
Which as hire lust she may governe and gie,

For yet under the yerde was the maide. "O dere cosin min Dan John," she saide, "What aileth you so rathe for to arise?"

"Nece," quod he, " it ought ynough suffise Five houres for to slepe upon a night: But it were for an olde appalled wight,

As ben thise wedded men, that lie and dare, As in a fourme sitteth a wery hare,

Were al forstraught with houndes gret and smale.
But, dere nece, why be ye so pale?
I trowe certes, that our goode man
Hath you laboured, sith this night began,
That you were nede to resten hastily."
And with that word be lough ful merily,
And of his owen thought he wexe all red.

This faire wif gan for to shake hire hed,
And saied thus; "Ye, God wote all," quod she.
"Nay, cosin min, it stant not so with me.
For by that God, that yave me soule and lif,
In all the reame of Fraunce is ther no wif,
That lasse lust hath to that sory play;
For I may singe alas and wala wa

That I was borne, but to no wight" (quod she)
"Dare I not tell how that it stant with me.
Wherfore I thinke out of this lond to wende
Or elles of myself to make an ende,
So full am I of drede and eke of care."

This monk began upon this wif to stare,
And sayd, "Alas! my nece, God forbede,
That ye for any sorwe, or any drede,
Fordo yourself: but telleth me your grefe,
Paraventure I may in your mischefe
Conseile or helpe: and therfore telleth me
All your annoy, for it shal ben secree.
For on my portos here I make an oth,
That never in my lif, for lefe ne loth,
Ne shal I of no conseil you bewray."

"The same agen to you," quod she, "I say.
By God and by this portos I you swere,
Though men me wolden all in peces tere,
Ne shal I never, for to gon to Helle,
Bewrey o word of thing that ye me tell,
Nought for no cosinage, ne alliance,
But veraily for love and affiance."

Thus ben they sworne, and hereupon they kiste,
And eche of hem told other what hem liste.

"Cosin," quod she, " if that I had a space, As I have non and namely in this place, Than wold I tell a legend of my lif, What I have suffred sith I was a wif With min husbond, al be he your cosin." "Nay," quod this monk, "by God and Seint He n'is no more cosin unto me,

Than is the leef that hangeth on the tree:
I clepe him so by Seint Denis of France
To han the more cause of acquaintance
Of you, which I have loved specially
Aboven alle woman sikerly,

[Martin,

This swere I you on my professioun:
Telleth your grefe, lest that he come adoun,
And hasteth you, and goth away anon.'

"

"My dere love," quod she, "o my Dan John, Ful lefe were me this conseil for to hide, But out it mote, I may no lenger abide. "Myn husbond is to me the werste man, That ever was sith that the world began: But sith I am a wif, it sith not me To tellen no wight of our privetee, Neither in bed, ne in non other place; God shilde I shulde it tellen for his grace;

A wif ne shal not sayn of hire husbond
But all honour, as I can understond;
Save unto you thus moch I tellen shal:
As helpe me God, he is nought worth at all,
In no degree, the value of a flie.

But yet me greveth most his nigardie:
And wel ye wot, that women naturally
Desiren thinges sixe, as wel as I.

They wolden that hir husbondes shulden be
Hardy, and wise, and riche, and therto free,
And buxome to his wif, and fresh a-bedde.
But by that ilke Lord that for us bledde,
For his honour myselven for to array,
A Sonday next I muste nedes pay
An hundred franks, or elles am I lorne.
Yet were me lever that I were unborne,
Than me were don a sclandre or vilanie.
And if min husbond eke might it espie,
i n'ere but lost; and therfore I you prey
Lene me this summe, or elles mote I dey.
Dan John, I say, lene me this hundred frankes
Parde I wol not faille you my thankes,
If that you list to do that I you pray.
For at a certain day I wol you pay,
And do to you what plesance and service
That I may don, right as you list devise:
And but I do, 'God take on me vengeance,
As foule as ever had Genelon of France."

This gentil monk answered in this manere; "Now trewely min owen lady dere,

I have," quod he, " on you so grete a routhe,
That I you swere, and plighte you my trouthe,
That whan your husbond is to Flandres fare,
I wol deliver you out of this care.

For I wol bringen you an hundred frankes."
And with that word he caught hire by the flankes,
And hire embraced hard, and kiste hire oft.
"Go now your way," quod he, "al stille and soft,
And let us dine as sone as that ye may,
For by my kalender it is prime of day:
Goth now, and beth as trewe as I shal be."

"Now elles God forbede, sire," quod she;
And forth she goth, as joly as a pie,
And bad the cokes that they shuld hem hie,
So that men mighten dine, aud that anon.
Up to hire husbond is this wif ygon,

And knocketh at his countour boldely.
"Qui est la ?" quod he. "Peter, it am I,"
Quod she. "What, sire, how longe wol ye fast?
How longe time wol ye reken and cast
Your summes, and your bookes, and your thinges?
The devil have part of all swiche rekeninges.
Ye han ynough parde of Goddes sonde.
Come doun to-day, and let your bagges stonde.
Ne be ye not ashamed, that Dan John
Shal fasting all this day elenge gon?
What? let us here a masse, and go we dine."
"Wif," quod this man, "litel canst thou divine
The curious besinesse that we have:

For of us chapmen, all so God me save,
And by that lord that cleped is Seint Ive,
Scarsly amonges twenty ten shul thrive
Continuelly, lasting unto oure age.

We moun wel maken chere and good visage,
And driven forth the world as it may be,
And kepen our estat in privitee,
Til we be ded, or elles that we play
A pilgrimage, or gon out of the way.
And therfore have I gret necessitee
Upon this queinte world to avisen me.

For evermore mote we stond in drede Of hap and fortune in our chapmanhede. "To Flandres wol I go to-morwe at day, And come agein as sone as ever I may : For which, my dere wif, I thee beseke As be to every wight buxom and meke, And for to kepe our good be curious, And honestly governe wel our hous. Thou hast ynough, in every maner wise, That to a thrifty houshold may suffice. Thee lacketh non array, ne no vitaille; Of silver in thy purse shalt thou not faille." And with that word his countour dore he shette, And doun he goth; no lenger wold he lette; And hastily a masse was ther saide, And spedily the tables were ylaide, And to the diner faste they hem spedde, And richely this monk the chapman fedde. And after diner Dan John soberly This chapman toke apart, and prively He said him thus; "Cosin, it stondeth so, That, wel I see, to Brugges ye wol go, God and Seint Austin spede you and gide. I pray you, cosin, wisely that ye ride; Governeth you also of your diete Attemprely, and namely in this hete. Betwix us two nedeth no strange fare; Farewel, cosin, God shilde you fro care. If any thing ther be by day or night, If it lie in my power and my might, That ye me wol command in any wise, It shal be don, right as ye wol devise. "But o thing or ye go, if it may be, I wolde prayen you for to lene me An hundred frankes for a weke or tweye, For certain bestes that I muste beye, To storen with a place that is oures: (God helpe me so, I wold that it were youres) I shal not faille surely of my day, Not for a thousand frankes, a mile way. But let this thing be secree, I you preye; For yet to-night thise bestes mote I beye. And fare now wel, min owen cosin dere, Grand mercy of your cost and of your chere." This noble marchant gentilly anon Answerd and said, "O cosin min Dan John, Now sikerly this is a smal requeste: My gold is youres, whan that it you leste, And not only my gold, but my chaffare: Take what you lest, God shilde that ye spare. But o thing is, ye know it wel ynough Of chapmen, that hir money is hir plough. We moun creancen while we han a name, But goodles for to ben it is no game. Pay it agen, whan it lith in your ese; After my might ful fayn wold I you plese." Thise hundred frankes fet he forth anon, And prively he toke hem to Dan John: No wight in al this world wist of this lone, Saving this marchant, and Dan John alone. They drinke, and speke, and rome a while and pleye, Til that Dan John rideth to his abbeye. The morwe came, and forth this marchant rideth To Flandres ward, his prentis wel him gideth, Til he came in to Brugges merily. Now goth this marchant faste and besily About his nede, and bieth, and creanceth; He neither playeth at the dis, ne danceth But as a marchant, shortly for to tell, He ledeth his lif, and ther I let him dwell.

The Sonday next the marchant was agon, To Seint Denis ycomon is Dan John,

With croune and berde all fresh and newe yshave.
In all the hous ther n'as so litel a knave,

Ne no wight elles, that he n'as ful fain,
For that my lord Dan John was come again.
And shortly to the point right for to gon,
This faire wif accordeth with Dan John,
That for thise hundred frankes he shuld all night
Haven hire in his armes bolt-upright :
And this accord parformed was in dede.
In mirth all night a besy lif they lede
Til it was day, that Dan John yede his way,
And bad the meinie farewel, have good day.
For non of hem, ne no wight in the toun,
Hath of Dan John right non suspectioun ;
And forth he rideth home to his abbey,
Or wher him liste, no more of him I sey.

This marchant, whan that ended was the faire,
To Seint Denis he gan for to repaire,
And with his wif he maketh feste and chere,
And telleth hire that chaffare is so dere,
That nedes muste he make a chevisance,
For he was bonde in a recognisance,
To payen twenty thousand sheldes anon.
For which this marchant is to Paris gon
To borwe of certain frendes that he hadde
A certain frankes, and som with him he ladde
And whan that he was come in to the toun,
For gret chiertee and gret affectioun
Unto Dan John he goth him first to pleye;
Not for to axe or borwe of hiin moneye,
But for to wete and seen of his welfare,
And for to tellen him of his chaffare,
As frendes don, whan they ben mette in fere.
Dan John him maketh feste and mery chere;
And he him tolde agen ful specially,
How he had wel ybought and graciously
(Thanked be God) all hole his marchandise:
Save that he must in alle manere wise
Maken a chevisance, as for his beste:
And than he shulde ben in joye and reste.
Dan John answered, "Certes I am fain,
That ye in hele be comen home again:
And if that I were riche, as have I blisse,
Of twenty thousand sheldes shuld ye no misse,
For ye so kindely this other day
Lente me gold, and as I can and may

I thanke you, by God and by Seint Jame.
But natheles I toke unto our dame,
Your wif at home, the same gold again
Upon your benche, she wote it wel certain,
By certain tokens that I can hire tell.
Now by your leve, I may no lenger dwell;
Our abbot wol out of this toun anon,
And in his compagnie I muste gon.
Grete wel our dame, min owen nece swete,
And farewel, dere cosin, til we mete."

This marchant, which that was ful ware and wise,
Creanced hath, and paide eke in Paris
To certain Lumbardes redy in hir hond
The summe of gold, and gate of hem his bond,
And home he goth, mery as a popingay.
For wel he knew he stood in swiche array,
That nedes muste he winne in that viage
A thousand frankes, above all his costage.
His wif ful redy mette him at the gate,
As she was wont of old usage algate :
And all that night in mirthe they ben sette,
For he was riche, and clerely out of dette,

Whan it was day, this marchant gan enbrace
His wif all newe, and kiste hire in hire face,
And up he goth, and maketh it ful tough.
"No more," quod she, "by God ye have ynough:"
And wantonly agen with him she plaide,
Til at the last this merchant to hire saide.

"By God," quod he, "I am a litel wrothe
With you, my wif, although it be me lothe:
And wote ye why? by God, as that I gesse,
That ye han made a manere strangenesse
Betwixen me and my cosin Dan John.
Ye shuld have warned me, or I had gon,
That he you had an hundred frankes paide
By redy token: and held him evil apaide,
For that I to him spake of chevisance :
(Me semed so as by his centenance)
But natheles by God our Heven king,
I thought not to axe of him no thing.
I pray thee, wif, ne do thou no more so.
Tell me alway, er that I fro thee go,
If any dettour hath in min absence
Ypaide thee, lest thurgh thy negligence

I might him axe a thing that he hath paide."
This wif was not aferde ne affraide,
But boldely she saide, and that anon;

Mary I defie that false monk Dan John,
I kepe not of his tokenes never a del:
He toke me certain gold, I wote it wel.
What? evil thedome on his monkes snoute!
For, God it wote, I wend withouten doute,
That he had yeve it me, because of you,
To don therwith min honour and my prow,
For cosinage, and eke for belle chere,
That he hath had ful often times here.
But sith I see I stonde in swiche disjoint,
I wol answere you shortly to the point.

"Ye have mo slakke dettours than am I:
For I wol pay you wel and redily
Fro day to day, and if so be I faille,
I am your wif, score it upon my taile,
And I shal pay as sone as ever I may.
For by my trouth, I have on min array,
And not in waste, bestowed it every del.
And for I have bestowed it so wel
For your honour, for Goddes sake I say,
As beth not wroth, but let us laugh and play.
Ye shal my joly body han to wedde:
By God I n'ill not pay you but a-bedde:
Foryeve it me, min owen spouse dere;
Turne hitherward and maketh better chere."
This marchant saw ther was no remedy:
And for to chide, it n'ere but a foly,
Sith that the thing may not amended be.
"Now, wif," he said, " and I foryeve it thee;
But by thy lif ne be no more so large;
Kepe bet my good, this yeve I thee in charge."
Thus endeth now my tale, and God us sende
Taling ynough, unto our lives ende.

THE PRIORESSES PROLOGUE. "WEL said by corpus Domini," quod our Hoste, "Now longe mote thou sailen by the coste, Thou gentil maister, gentil marinere, God give the monke a thousand last quad yere. A ha, felawes, beth ware of swiche a jape. The monke put in the mannes hode an ape,

And in his wifes eke, by Seint Austin.
Draweth no monkes more into your in.

"But now passe over, and let us seke aboute,
Who shal now tellen first of all this route
Another tale:" and with that word he said,
As curteisly as it had ben a maid,

"My lady Prioresse, by your leve, So that I wist I shuld you not agreve, I wolde demen, that ye tellen shold A tale next, if so were that ye wold. Now wol ye vouchesauf, my lady dere?" "Gladly," quod she, and saide as ye shul here.

THE PRIORESSES TALE.

"O LORD our Lord, thy name how merveillous
Is in this large world ysprad!" (quod she)
"For not al only thy laude precious
Parformed is by men of dignitee,

But by the mouth of children thy bountee
Parformed is, for on the brest souking
Somtime shewen they thin herying.

"Wherfore in laude, as I can best and may,
Of thee and of the white lily flour,
Which that thee bare, and is a maide alway,
To tell a storie I wol do my labour;
Not that I may encresen hire honour,
For she hireselven is honour and rote
Of bountee, next hire sone, and soules bote.
"O mother maide, o maide and mother fre,
O bushe unbrent, brenning in Moyses sight,
That ravishedest doun fro the deitee,

Thurgh thin humblesse, the gost that in thee alight:
Of whos vertue, whan he thin herte light,
Conceived was the fathers sapience:
Helpe me to tell it in thy reverence.

"Lady thy bountee, thy magnificence,
Thy vertue and thy gret humilitee,

Ther may no tonge expresse in no science :
For somtime, lady, or men pray to thee,
Thou gost beforn of thy benignitee,
And getest us the light, of thy prayere,
To giden us unto thy sone so dere.

"My conning is so weke, o blisful quene,
For to declare thy grete worthinesse,
That I ne may the weighte not sustene;
But as a child of twelf moneth old or lesse,
That can unnethes any word expresse,
Right so fare I, and therfore I you pray,
Gideth my song, that I shal of you say."

THER was in Asie, in a gret citee,
Amonges Cristen folk a Jewerie,
Sustened by a lord of that contree,
For foule usure, and lucre of vilanie,
Hateful to Crist, and to his compagnie :

And thurgh the strete men mighten ride and wende,
For it was free, and open at eyther ende.

A litel scole of Cristen folk ther stood

Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were
Children an hepe comen of Cristen blood,
That lerned in that scole yere by yere,
Swiche manere doctrine as men used there:
This is to say, to singen and to rede,
As smale children don in hir childhede,

Among thise children was a widewes sone,
A litel clergion, sevene yere of age,
That day by day to scole was his wone,
And eke also, wheras he sey the image
Of Cristes moder, had he in usage,

As him was taught, to knele adoun, and say
Ave Marie, as he goth by the way.

Thus hath this widewe hire litel sone ytaught
Our blisful Lady, Cristes moder dere,
To worship ay, and he forgate it naught:
For sely childe wol alway sone lere.
But ay, whan I remembre on this matere,
Seint Nicholas stant ever in my presence,
For he so yong to Crist did reverence.

This litel childe his lite! book lerning,
As he sate in the scole at his primere,
He Alma Redemptoris herde sing,
As children lered hir antiphonere:

And as he dorst, he drow him nere and nere,
And herkened ay the wordes and the note,
Til he the firste vers coude al by rote.

Nought wist he what this Latin was to say,
For he so yonge and tendre was of age;
But on a day his felaw gan he pray
To expounden him this song in his langage,
Or telle him why this song was in usage:
This prayde he him to construe and declare,
Ful often time upon his knees bare.

His felaw, which that elder was than he,
Answerd him thus: "This song, I have herd say,
Was maked of our blisful Lady fre,
Hire to salue, and eke hire for to prey
To ben our help, and socour whan we dey.
I can no more expound in this matere:
I lerne song, I can but smal grammere."

"And is this song maked in reverence
Of Cristes moder?" said this innocent;
Now certes I wol don my diligence
To conne it all, or Cristemasse be went,
Though that I for my primer shall be shent,
And shal be beten thries in an houre,
I wol it conne, our Ladie for to honoure."

His felaw taught him homeward prively
Fro day to day, til he coude it by rote,
And than he song it wel and boldely
Fro word to word according with the note:
Twies a day it passed thurgh his throte,
To scoleward and homeward whan he wente:
On Cristes moder set was his entente.

As I have said, thurghout the Jewerie
This litel child as he came to and fro,
Ful merily than wold he sing and crie,
O Alma Redemptoris, ever mo:
The swetenesse hath his herte persed so
Of Cristes moder, that to hire to pray
He cannot stint of singing by the way,

Our firste fo, the serpent Sathanas,
That hath in Jewes herte his waspes nest,
Up swale and said, "O Ebraike peple, alas!.
Is this to you a thing that is honest,
That swiche a boy shal walken as him leste
In your despit, and sing of swiche sentence,
Which is again our lawes reverence?"

From thennesforth the Jewes han conspired
This innocent out of this world to chace:
An homicide therto han they hired,
That in an aleye had a privee place,
And as the child gan forthby for to pace,
This cursed Jew him hent, and held him fast,
And cut his throte, and in a pit him cast.

I say that in a wardrope they him threwe,
Wher as thise Jewes purgen hir entraille.
O cursed folk, of Herodes alle newe,
What may your evil entente you availle?
Mordre wol out, certein it wol not faille,

And namely ther the honour of God shal sprede : The blood out crieth on your cursed dede.

O martyr souded in virginitee,

Now maist thou singe, and folwen ever in on
The white lamb celestial, quod she,

Of which the gret Evangelist Seint John

In Pathmos wrote, which sayth that they that gon
Before this lamb, and singe a song al newe,
That never fleshly woman they ne knewe.

This poure widewe awaiteth al that night
After hire litel childe, and he came nought:
For which as sone as it was dayes light,
With face pale of drede and, besy thought,
She hath at scole and elleswher him sought,
Til finally she gan so fer aspie,

That he last seen was in the Jewerie.

With modres pitee in hire brest enclosed
She goth, as she were half out of hire minde,
To every place, wher she hath supposed
By likelihed hire litel child to finde:
And ever on Cristes moder meke and kinde
She cried, and at the laste thus she wrought,
Among the cursed Jewes she him sought.

She freyneth, and she praieth pitously
To every Jew that dwelled in thilke place,
To telle hire, if hire child went ought forthby:
They sayden, Nay; but Jesu of his grace
Yave in hire thought, within a litel space,
That in that place after hire sone she cride,
Ther he was casten in a pit beside.

O grete God, that parformest thy laude
By mouth of innocentes, lo here thy might!
This gemme of chastitee, this emeraude,
And eke of martirdome the rubie bright,
Ther he with throte ycorven lay upright,
He Alma redemptoris gan to singe

So loude, that all the place gan to ringe.

The Cristen folk, that thurgh the strete wente,
In comen, for to wondre upon this thing:
And bastifly they for the provost sente.
He came anon withouten tarying,
And herieth Crist, that is of Heven king,
And eke his moder, honour of mankind,
And after that the Jewes let he binde.

This child with pitous lamentation
Was taken up, singing his song alway:
And with honour and gret procession,
They carien him unto the next abbey.
His moder swouning by the bere lay;
Unnethes might the peple that was there
This newe Rachel bringen fro his bere,