Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Geoffrey Chaucer

  “Now, brother,” quod this Somnour, “I yow preye,

  Teche me, whyl that we ryden by the weye,

  Sin that ye been a baillif as am I,

  Som subtiltee, and tel me feithfully

  In myn offyce how I may most winne;

  And sparet nat for conscience ne sinne,

  But as my brother tel me, how do ye?”

  “Now, by my trouthe, brother dere,” seyde he,

  “As I shal tellen thee a feithful tale,

  My wages been ful streite and ful smale.

  My lord is hard to me and daungerous,

  And myn offyce is ful laborous;

  And therfore by extorcions I live.

  For sothe, I take al that men wol me yive;

  Algate, by sleyghte or by violence,

  Fro yeer to yeer I winne al my dispence.

  I can no bettre telle feithfully.”

  “Now, certes,” quod this Somnour, “so fare I;

  I spare nat to taken, god it woot,

  But-if it be to hevy or to hoot.

  What I may gete in counseil prively,

  No maner conscience of that have I;

  Nere myn extorcioun, I mighte nat liven,

  Ne of swiche japes wol I nat be shriven.

  Stomak ne conscience ne knowe I noon;

  I shrewe thise shrifte-fadres everichoon.

  Wel be we met, by god and by seint Jame!

  But, leve brother, tel me than thy name,”

  Quod this Somnour; and in this mene whyle,

  This yeman gan a litel for to smyle.

  “Brother,” quod he, “wiltow that I thee telle?

  I am a feend, my dwelling is in helle.

  And here I ryde about my purchasing,

  To wite wher men wolde yeve me any thing.

  This yeoman him answered in soft speech,

  “Brother,” said he, “far in the north country9

  Where I hope sometime I will you see.

  Before we part, I shall to it so well you guide

  That past my house you shall not ride.”

  “Now, brother,” said this summoner, “I pray you,

  Teach me, while that we ride by the way,

  Since you be a bailiff as am I,

  Some trick of the trade, and tell me faithfully

  In my office how I may most gain;

  And spare not for conscience or fear of sin,

  But as my brother, tell me how you bring it in.”

  “Now, by my troth, brother dear,” said he,

  “As I shall tell you a true tale,

  My wages be full strait and small.

  My lord is hard to me and demanding,

  And my office is full laborious,

  And therefore by extortions do I live.

  For truth, I take all that men will give me,

  Anyhow, by sleight or by violence,

  From year to year I make my expenses.

  I can no better tell, faithfully.”

  “Now certainly,” said this summoner, “so fare I.

  I spare not to take, God knows,

  Unless it is too hot or heavy.

  What I may get secretly,

  No manner of conscience for that have I.

  Without my extortion, I could not live,

  Nor for such tricks will I not be forgiven.

  Stomach for conscience have I none;

  I curse these confessors10 every one.

  Well be we met, by God and Saint James!

  But, dear brother, tell me your name,”

  Said this summoner. In the meanwhile

  This yeoman began a little for to smile.

  “Brother,” said he, “would you that I tell you?

  I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,

  And here I ride about my profit-making,

  To learn where men will give me something.

  My purchas is th‘effect of al my rente.

  Loke how thou rydest for the same entente,

  To winne good, thou rekkest never how;

  Right so fare I, for ryde wolde I now

  Un-to the worldes ende for a preye.”

  “A,” quod this Somnour, “ben‘cite, what sey ye?

  I wende ye were a yeman trewely.

  Ye han a mannes shap as wel as I;

  Han ye figure than determinat

  In helle, ther ye been in your estat?”

  “Nay, certeinly,” quod he, “ther have we noon;

  But whan us lyketh, we can take us oon,

  Or elles make yow seme we ben shape

  Som-tyme lyk a man, or lyk an ape;

  Or lyk an angel can I ryde or go.

  It is no wonder thing thogh it be so;

  A lousy jogelour can deceyve thee,

  And pardee, yet can I more craft than he.”

  “Why,” quod the Somnour, “ryde ye thanne or goon

  In sondry shap, and nat alwey in oon?”

  “For we,” quod he, “wol us swich formes make

  As most able is our preyes for to take.”

  “What maketh yow to han al this labour?”

  “Ful many a cause, leve sir Somnour,”

  Seyde this feend, “but alle thing hath tyme.

  The day is short, and it is passed pryme,

  And yet ne wan I no-thing in this day.

  I wol entende to winnen, if I may,

  And nat entende our wittes to declare.

  For, brother myn, thy wit is al to bare

  To understonde, al-thogh I tolde hem thee.

  But, for thou axest why labouren we;

  For, som-tyme, we ben goddes instruments,

  And menes to don his comandements,

  Whan that him list, up-on his creatures,

  In divers art and in divers figures.

  With-outen him we have no might, certayn,

  If that him list to stonden ther-agayn.

  And som-tyme, at our prayere, han we leve

  My profit is the whole part of my rent.

  Look how you ride for the same intent.

  To gain profit, you care never how;

  Right so fare I, for ride would I now

  Unto the world’s end for my prey.”

  “Ah!” said this summoner, “benedicite! What do you say?

  I thought you were a yeoman truly.

  You have a man’s shape as much as I do;

  Have you another definite shape besides

  In hell, where you reside?”

  “No, certainly,” said he, “there have we none;

  But when we wish we can take us one,

  Or else make you think we have a shape;

  Sometimes like a man, sometimes like an ape,

  Or like an angel can I ride or go.

  It is no wondrous thing that it be so;

  A poor magician can fool you,

  And, by God, I know more craft than they do.”

  “Why,” said this summoner, “ride you then or go

  In sundry shapes, and not always in one?”

  “For we,” said he, “will such forms make

  As best enable us our prey to take:”

  “What makes you have all this labor?”

  “Full many a cause, dear sir summoner,”

  Said this fiend, “but all things have their time.

  The day is short, and it is past prime,11

  And yet I have won nothing in this day.

  I will attend to winning, if I may,

  And not strive for our wits to display.

  For, brother mine, your wit is not adequate

  To understand, even if I told you more.

  But, since you ask why we labor—

  Sometimes we are God’s instruments

  And his means to do his commandments,

  When he wishes, upon his creatures,

  By diverse methods and in diverse figures.

  Without him we have no power, truly,

  If he wishes to oppose something we do.

  And sometimes, at our req
uest, we have leave

  Only the body and nat the soule greve;

  Witnesse on Job, whom that we diden wo.

  And som-tyme han we might of bothe two,

  This is to seyn, of soule and body eke.

  And somtyme be we suffred for to seke

  Up-on a man, and doon his soule unreste,

  And nat his body, and al is for the beste.

  Whan he withstandeth our temptacioun,

  It is a cause of his savacioun;

  Al-be-it that it was nat our entente

  He sholde be sauf, but that we wolde him hente.

  And som-tyme be we servant un-to man,

  As to the erchebisshop Seint Dunstan

  And to the apostles servant eek was I.”

  “Yet tel me,” quod the Somnour, “feithfully,

  Make ye yow newe bodies thus alway

  Of elements?” the feend answerde, “nay;

  Som-tyme we feyne, and som-tyme we aryse

  With ded bodies in ful sondry wyse,

  And speke as renably and faire and wel

  As to the Phitonissa dide Samuel.

  And yet wol som men seye it was nat he;

  I do no fors of your divinitee.

  But o thing warne I thee, I wol nat jape,

  Thou wolt algates wite how we ben shape;

  Thou shalt her-afterward, my brother dere,

  Com ther thee nedeth nat of me to lere.

  For thou shalt by thyn owene experience

  Conne in a chayer rede of this sentence

  Bet than Virgyle, whyl he was on lyve,

  Or Dant also; now lat us ryde blyve.

  For I wol holde companye with thee

  Til it be so, that thou forsake me.”

  “Nay,” quod this Somnour, “that shal nat bityde;

  I am a yeman, knowen in ful wyde;

  My trouthe wol I holde as in this cas.

  For though thou were the devel Sathanas,

  My trouthe wol I holde to my brother,

  As I am sworn, and ech of us til other

  Only the body and not the soul to grieve;

  Witness Job, upon whom we did that woe.

  And sometimes have we power over both—

  That is to say, of soul and body also.

  And sometimes we be suffered for to seek

  Upon a man and do his soul unrest

  And not his body, and all is for the best.

  When he withstands our temptation,

  It is a cause of his salvation.

  Albeit that it was not our intent

  He should be saved, but that we would him seize.

  And sometimes we be servants unto man,

  As to the archbishop Saint Dunstan,12

  And to the apostles servant also was I.”

  “Yet tell me,” said the summoner, “faithfully,

  Make you your new bodies thus always

  Of elements?” The fiend answered, “Nay.

  Sometimes we feign and sometimes we arise

  With dead bodies, in full sundry ways,

  And speak as readily and fair and well

  As to the Witch of Endor did Samuel.13

  (And yet will some men say it was not he;

  I care nothing for your theology.)

  But one thing warn I you, I will not joke;

  You will surely know how we are made;

  You shall hereafter, my brother dear,

  Not need from me to learn,

  For you shall, by your own experience,

  As from a professor’s chair lecture on this

  Better than Virgil, when he was alive,

  Or Dante also. Now let us quickly ride,

  For I will hold with your company

  Till it be so that you forsake me.”

  “Nay!” said the summoner, “that shall not betide!

  I am a yeoman, known full widely;

  My word will I keep, as in this case.

  For though you were the devil Satan,

  My pledge I will hold to my brother,

  As I am sworn, and each of us to the other,

  For to be trewe brother in this cas;

  And bothe we goon abouten our purchas.

  Tak thou thy part, what that men wol thee yive,

  And I shal myn; thus may we bothe live.

  And if that any of us have more than other,

  Lat him be trewe, and parte it with his brother.”

  “I graunte,” quod the devel, “by my fey.”

  And with that word they ryden forth hir wey.

  And right at the entring of the tounes ende,

  To which this Somnour shoop him for to wende,

  They saugh a cart, that charged was with hey,

  Which that a carter droof forth in his wey.

  Deep was the wey, for which the carte stood.

  The carter smoot, and cryde, as he were wood,

  “Hayt, Brok! hayt, Scot! what spare ye for the stones.

  The feend,” quod he, “yow fecche body and bones,

  As ferforthly as ever were ye foled!

  So muche wo as I have with yow tholed!

  The devel have al, bothe hors and cart and hey!”

  This Somnour seyde, “heer shal we have a pley;

  And neer the feed he drough, as noght ne were,

  Ful prively, and rouned in his ere:

  ”Herkne, my brother, herkne, by thy feith;

  Herestow nat how that the carter seith?

  Hent it anon, for he hath yeve it thee,

  Bothe hey and cart, and eek hise caples three.”

  “Nay,” quod the devel, “god wot, never a deel;

  It is nat his entente, trust me weel.

  Axe him thy-self, if thou nat trowest me,

  Or elles stint a while, and thou shalt see”

  This carter thakketh his hors upon the croupe,

  And they bigonne drawen and to-stoupe;

  “Heyt, now!” quod he, “ther Jesu Crist yow blesse

  And al his handwerk, bothe more and lesse!

  That was wel twight, myn owene lyard boy!

  I pray god save thee and sëynt Loy!

  Now is my cart out of the slow, pardee!”

  “Lo! brother,” quod the feend, “what tolde I thee?

  Heer may ye see, myn owene dere brother,

  For to be true brothers in this case;

  And both we go about our trade.

  Take you your part, what men will you give,

  And I shall mine; thus may we both live.

  And if either of us has more than the other,

  Let him be true and share it with his brother.”

  “Agreed,” said the devil, “by my faith.”

  And with that word they rode forth their way.

  And right at the entrance to the town’s edge,

  To which this summoner prepared himself to enter,

  They saw a cart that was loaded with hay,

  Which a carter drove forth on his way.

  Deep muddy was the road, in which the cart stood.

  The carter smote and cried as if he were crazy,

  “Giddap, Brok! Giddap, Scot! Why stop pulling in this mess?

  The fiend,” said he, “you fetch, body and bones,

  As sure as you were foaled,

  So much woe as I have with you suffered.

  To the devil you all, both horse and cart and hay!”

  This summoner said, “Here shall we have some play.”

  And near the fiend he drew, as if by it he nothing meant,

  And whispered in his ear in private:

  “Harken, my brother, harken, by your faith!

  Hear you not what the carter says?

  Seize it anon, for he has given it to you,

  Both hay and cart, and also his horses three.”

  “Nay,” said the devil, “God knows, in no way!

  It is not his intent, trust me well.

  Ask him yourself, if you believe not me;

  Or else wait awhile, an
d you shall see.”

  This carter patted his horses on their cruppers,

  And they began to pull with all their muscle.

  “Giddap! Now,” said he, “there Jesus Christ you bless,

  And all his handiwork, both more and less!

  That was well pulled, my own dappled boy.

  I pray God save you, and Saint Loy!14

  Now is my cart out of the slough, by God!”

  “Look, brother,” said the fiend, “what I told you?

  Here may you see, my own dear brother,

  The carl spak oo thing, but he thoughte another.

  Lat us go forth abouten our viage;

  Heer winne I no-thing up-on cariage.”

  Whan that they comen som-what out of toune,

  This Somnour to his brother gan to roune,

  “Brother,” quod he, “heer woneth an old rebekke,

  That hadde almost as lief to lese hir nekke

  As for to yeve a peny of hir good.

  I wol han twelf pens, though that she be wood,

  Or I wol sompne hir un-to our offyce;

  And yet, god woot, of hir knowe I no vyce.

  But for thou canst nat, as in this contree,

  Winne thy cost, tak heer ensample of me.”

  This Somnour clappeth at the widwes gate.

  “Com out,” quod he, “thou olde viritrate!

  I trowe thou hast som frere or prese with thee!”

  “Who clappeth?” seyde this widwe, “ben’ cite!

  God save you, sire, what is your swete wille?”

  “I have,” quod he, “of somonce here a bille;

  Up peyne of cursing, loke that thou be

  To-morn bifore the erchedeknes knee

  T‘answere to the court of certeyn thinges.”

  “Now, lord,” quod she, “Crist Jesu, king of kinges,

  So wisly helpe me, as I ne may.

  I have been syk, and that ful many a day.

  I may nat go so fer,” quod she, “ne ryde,

  But I be deed, so priketh it in my syde.

  May I nat axe a libel, sir Somnour,

  And answere there, by my procutour,

  To swich thing as men wol opposen me?”

  “Yis,” quod this Somnour, “pay anon, lat se,

  Twelf pens to me, and I wol thee acquyte.

  I shall no profit han ther-by but lyte;

  My maister hath the profit, and nat I.

  Com of, and lat me ryden hastily;

  Yif me twelf pens, I may no lenger tarie.”

  “Twelf pens,” quod she, “now lady Seinte Marie

  So wisly help me out of care and sinne,

  This wyde world thogh that I sholde winne,

  The carter spoke one thing, but he thought another.

  Let us go forth about our endeavor;

  Here win I nothing from the carter.”

  When they had gone from the town some distance,

  This summoner to his brother began to whisper:

  “Brother,” said he, “Here dwells an old lady