by Homer
I shall him telle what a great honour
It is to be a flattering limitour
And his office I shall him tell y-wis”.
Our Host answered, “Peace, no more of this.”
And afterward he said unto the frere,
“Tell forth your tale, mine owen master dear.”
THE TALE.
Whilom1 there was dwelling in my country 1once on a time
An archdeacon, a man of high degree,
That boldely did execution,
In punishing of fornication,
Of witchecraft, and eke of bawdery,
Of defamation, and adultery,
Of churche-reeves,1 and of testaments, 1churchwardens
Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments,
And eke of many another manner1 crime, 1sort of
Which needeth not rehearsen at this time,
Of usury, and simony also;
But, certes, lechours did he greatest woe;
They shoulde singen, if that they were hent;1 1caught
And smale tithers were foul y-shent,1 1troubled, put to shame
If any person would on them complain;
There might astert them no pecunial pain.
For smalle tithes, and small offering,
He made the people piteously to sing;
For ere the bishop caught them with his crook,
They weren in the archedeacon’s book;
Then had he, through his jurisdiction,
Power to do on them correction.
He had a Sompnour ready to his hand,
A slier boy was none in Engleland;
For subtlely he had his espiaille,1 1espionage
That taught him well where it might aught avail.
He coulde spare of lechours one or two,
To teache him to four and twenty mo’.
For, — though this Sompnour wood1 be as a hare, — 1furious, mad
To tell his harlotry I will not spare,
For we be out of their correction,
They have of us no jurisdiction,
Ne never shall have, term of all their lives.
“Peter; so be the women of the stives,”1 1stews
Quoth this Sompnour, “y-put out of our cure.”1 1care
“Peace, with mischance and with misaventure,”
Our Hoste said, “and let him tell his tale.
Now telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale,1 1whistle; bawl
Nor spare not, mine owen master dear.”
This false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere),
Had always bawdes ready to his hand,
As any hawk to lure in Engleland,
That told him all the secrets that they knew, —
For their acquaintance was not come of new;
They were his approvers1 privily. 1informers
He took himself at great profit thereby:
His master knew not always what he wan.1 1won
Withoute mandement, a lewed1 man 1ignorant
He could summon, on pain of Christe’s curse,
And they were inly glad to fill his purse,
And make him greate feastes at the nale.1 1alehouse
And right as Judas hadde purses smale,1 1small
And was a thief, right such a thief was he,
His master had but half 1his duety.1 1what was owing him1
He was (if I shall give him his laud)
A thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd.
And he had wenches at his retinue,
That whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh,
Or Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were
That lay by them, they told it in his ear.
Thus were the wench and he of one assent;
And he would fetch a feigned mandement,
And to the chapter summon them both two,
And pill1 the man, and let the wenche go. 1plunder, pluck
Then would he say, “Friend, I shall for thy sake
Do strike thee out of oure letters blake;1 1black
Thee thar1 no more as in this case travail; 1need
I am thy friend where I may thee avail.”
Certain he knew of bribers many mo’
Than possible is to tell in yeare’s two:
For in this world is no dog for the bow,
That can a hurt deer from a whole know,
Bet1 than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour, 1better
Or an adult’rer, or a paramour:
And, for that was the fruit of all his rent,
Therefore on it he set all his intent.
And so befell, that once upon a day.
This Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey,
Rode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe,
Feigning a cause, for he would have a bribe.
And happen’d that he saw before him ride
A gay yeoman under a forest side:
A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen,
He had upon a courtepy1 of green, 1short doublet
A hat upon his head with fringes blake.1 1black
“Sir,” quoth this Sompnour, “hail, and well o’ertake.”
“Welcome,” quoth he, “and every good fellaw;
Whither ridest thou under this green shaw?”1 shade
Saide this yeoman; “wilt thou far to-day?”
This Sompnour answer’d him, and saide, “Nay.
Here faste by,” quoth he, “is mine intent
To ride, for to raisen up a rent,
That longeth to my lorde’s duety.”
“Ah! art thou then a bailiff?” “Yea,” quoth he.
He durste not for very filth and shame
Say that he was a Sompnour, for the name.
“De par dieux,” quoth this yeoman, “leve1 brother, 1dear
Thou art a bailiff, and I am another.
I am unknowen, as in this country.
Of thine acquaintance I will praye thee,
And eke of brotherhood, if that thee list.1 1please
I have gold and silver lying in my chest;
If that thee hap to come into our shire,
All shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire.”
“Grand mercy,”1 quoth this Sompnour, “by my faith.” 1great thanks
Each in the other’s hand his trothe lay’th,
For to be sworne brethren till they dey.1 1die
In dalliance they ride forth and play.
This Sompnour, which that was as full of jangles,1 1chattering
As full of venom be those wariangles,1 1 butcher-birds
And ev’r inquiring upon every thing,
“Brother,” quoth he, “where is now your dwelling,
Another day if that I should you seech?”1 1seek, visit
This yeoman him answered in soft speech;
Brother,” quoth he, “far in the North country,
Where as I hope some time I shall thee see
Ere we depart I shall thee so well wiss,1 1inform
That of mine house shalt thou never miss.”
Now, brother,” quoth this Sompnour, “I you pray,
Teach me, while that we ride by the way,
(Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,)
Some subtilty, and tell me faithfully
For mine office how that I most may win.
And 1spare not1 for conscience or for sin, 1conceal nothing1
But, as my brother, tell me how do ye.”
Now by my trothe, brother mine,” said he,
As I shall tell to thee a faithful tale:
My wages be full strait and eke full smale;
My lord is hard to me and dangerous,1 1niggardly
And mine office is full laborious;
And therefore by extortion I live,
Forsooth I take all that men will me give.
Algate1 by sleighte, or by violence, 1whether
From year to year I win all my dispence;
I can no better tell thee faithfully.”
Now ce
rtes,” quoth this Sompnour, “so fare1 I; 1do
I spare not to take, God it wot,
1But if1 it be too heavy or too hot. 1unless1
What I may get in counsel privily,
No manner conscience of that have I.
N’ere1 mine extortion, I might not live, 1were it not for
For of such japes1 will I not be shrive.2 1tricks 2confessed
Stomach nor conscience know I none;
I shrew1 these shrifte-fathers2 every one. 1curse 2confessors
Well be we met, by God and by St Jame.
But, leve brother, tell me then thy name,”
Quoth this Sompnour. Right in this meane while
This yeoman gan a little for to smile.
“Brother,” quoth he, “wilt thou that I thee tell?
I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,
And here I ride about my purchasing,
To know where men will give me any thing.
1My purchase is th’ effect of all my rent1 1what I can gain is my
Look how thou ridest for the same intent sole revenue1
To winne good, thou reckest never how,
Right so fare I, for ride will I now
Into the worlde’s ende for a prey.”
“Ah,” quoth this Sompnour, “benedicite! what say y’?
I weened ye were a yeoman truly. 1thought
Ye have a manne’s shape as well as I
Have ye then a figure determinate
In helle, where ye be in your estate?”1 1at home
“Nay, certainly,” quoth he, there have we none,
But when us liketh we can take us one,
Or elles make you seem1 that we be shape 1believe
Sometime like a man, or like an ape;
Or like an angel can I ride or go;
It is no wondrous thing though it be so,
A lousy juggler can deceive thee.
And pardie, yet can I more craft1 than he.” 1skill, cunning
“Why,” quoth the Sompnour, “ride ye then or gon
In sundry shapes and not always in one?”
“For we,” quoth he, “will us in such form make.
As most is able our prey for to take.”
“What maketh you to have all this labour?”
“Full many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour,”
Saide this fiend. “But all thing hath a time;
The day is short and it is passed prime,
And yet have I won nothing in this day;
I will intend1 to winning, if I may, 1apply myself
And not intend our thinges to declare:
For, brother mine, thy wit is all too bare
To understand, although I told them thee.
1But for1 thou askest why laboure we: 1because1
For sometimes we be Godde’s instruments
And meanes to do his commandements,
When that him list, upon his creatures,
In divers acts and in divers figures:
Withoute him we have no might certain,
If that him list to stande thereagain.1 1against it
And sometimes, at our prayer have we leave
Only the body, not the soul, to grieve:
Witness on Job, whom that we did full woe,
And sometimes have we might on both the two, —
This is to say, on soul and body eke,
And sometimes be we suffer’d for to seek
Upon a man and do his soul unrest
And not his body, and all is for the best,
When he withstandeth our temptation,
It is a cause of his salvation,
Albeit that it was not our intent
He should be safe, but that we would him hent.1 1catch
And sometimes be we servants unto man,
As to the archbishop Saint Dunstan,
And to th’apostle servant eke was I.”
“Yet tell me,” quoth this Sompnour, “faithfully,
Make ye you newe bodies thus alway
Of th’ elements?” The fiend answered, “Nay:
Sometimes we feign, and sometimes we arise
With deade bodies, in full sundry wise,
And speak as reas’nably, and fair, and well,
As to the Pythoness did Samuel:
And yet will some men say it was not he.
I 1do no force of1 your divinity. 1set no value upon1
But one thing warn I thee, I will not jape,1 jest
Thou wilt 1algates weet1 how we be shape: 1assuredly know1
Thou shalt hereafterward, my brother dear,
Come, where thee needeth not of me to lear.1 1learn
For thou shalt by thine own experience
1Conne in a chair to rede of this sentence,1 1learn to understand
Better than Virgil, while he was alive, what I have said1
Or Dante also. Now let us ride blive,1 1briskly
For I will holde company with thee,
Till it be so that thou forsake me.”
“Nay,” quoth this Sompnour, “that shall ne’er betide.
I am a yeoman, that is known full wide;
My trothe will I hold, as in this case;
For though thou wert the devil Satanas,
My trothe will I hold to thee, my brother,
As I have sworn, and each of us to other,
For to be true brethren in this case,
And both we go 1abouten our purchase.1 1seeking what we
Take thou thy part, what that men will thee give, may pick up1
And I shall mine, thus may we bothe live.
And if that any of us have more than other,
Let him be true, and part it with his brother.”
“I grante,” quoth the devil, “by my fay.”
And with that word they rode forth their way,
And right at th’ent’ring of the towne’s end,
To which this Sompnour shope1 him for to wend,2 1shaped 2go
They saw a cart, that charged was with hay,
Which that a carter drove forth on his way.
Deep was the way, for which the carte stood:
The carter smote, and cried as he were wood,1 1mad
“Heit Scot! heit Brok! what, spare ye for the stones?
The fiend (quoth he) you fetch body and bones,
As farforthly1 as ever ye were foal’d, 1sure
So muche woe as I have with you tholed.1 1endured
The devil have all, horses, and cart, and hay.”
The Sompnour said, “Here shall we have a prey,”
And near the fiend he drew, 1as nought ne were,1 1as if nothing
Full privily, and rowned1 in his ear: were the matter1
“Hearken, my brother, hearken, by thy faith, 1whispered
Hearest thou not, how that the carter saith?
Hent1 it anon, for he hath giv’n it thee, 1seize
Both hay and cart, and eke his capels1 three.” 1horses
“Nay,” quoth the devil, “God wot, never a deal,1 whit
It is not his intent, trust thou me well;
Ask him thyself, if thou not trowest1 me, 1believest
Or elles stint1 a while and thou shalt see.” 1stop
The carter thwack’d his horses on the croup,
And they began to drawen and to stoop.
“Heit now,” quoth he; “there, Jesus Christ you bless,
And all his handiwork, both more and less!
That was well twight,1 mine owen liart,2 boy, 1pulled 2grey
I pray God save thy body, and Saint Loy!
Now is my cart out of the slough, pardie.”
“Lo, brother,” quoth the fiend, “what told I thee?
Here may ye see, mine owen deare brother,
The churl spake one thing, but he thought another.
Let us go forth abouten our voyage;
Here win I nothing upon this carriage.”
When that they came somewhat out of the town,
This Sompnour to his br
other gan to rown;
“Brother,” quoth he, “here wons1 an old rebeck, 1dwells
That had almost as lief to lose her neck.
As for to give a penny of her good.
I will have twelvepence, though that she be wood,1 1mad
Or I will summon her to our office;
And yet, God wot, of her know I no vice.
But for thou canst not, as in this country,
Winne thy cost, take here example of me.”
This Sompnour clapped at the widow’s gate:
“Come out,” he said, “thou olde very trate;1 1trot
I trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee.”
“Who clappeth?” said this wife; “benedicite,
God save you, Sir, what is your sweete will?”
“I have,” quoth he, “of summons here a bill.
Up1 pain of cursing, looke that thou be 1upon
To-morrow before our archdeacon’s knee,
To answer to the court of certain things.”
“Now Lord,” quoth she, “Christ Jesus, king of kings,
So wis1y1 helpe me, 1as I not may.1 1surely 1as I cannot1
I have been sick, and that full many a day.
I may not go so far,” quoth she, “nor ride,
But I be dead, so pricketh it my side.
May I not ask a libel, Sir Sompnour,
And answer there by my procuratour
To such thing as men would appose1 me?” 1accuse
“Yes,” quoth this Sompnour, “pay anon, let see,
Twelvepence to me, and I will thee acquit.
I shall no profit have thereby but lit:1 1little
My master hath the profit and not I.
Come off, and let me ride hastily;
Give me twelvepence, I may no longer tarry.”
“Twelvepence!” quoth she; “now lady Sainte Mary
So wisly1 help me out of care and sin, 1surely
This wide world though that I should it win,
No have I not twelvepence within my hold.
Ye know full well that I am poor and old;
1Kithe your almes1 upon me poor wretch.” 1show your charity1
“Nay then,” quoth he, “the foule fiend me fetch,
If I excuse thee, though thou should’st be spilt.”1 1ruined
“Alas!” quoth she, “God wot, I have no guilt.”
“Pay me,” quoth he, “or, by the sweet Saint Anne,
As I will bear away thy newe pan
For debte, which thou owest me of old, —
When that thou madest thine husband cuckold, —
I paid at home for thy correction.”
“Thou liest,” quoth she, “by my salvation;
Never was I ere now, widow or wife,
