The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer - HTML preview

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The Canon's Yeoman's Tale

 

THE PROLOGUE.

 

WHEN ended was the life of Saint Cecile,

Ere we had ridden fully five mile, <2>

At Boughton-under-Blee us gan o'ertake

A man, that clothed was in clothes black,

And underneath he wore a white surplice.

His hackenay,* which was all pomely-gris,**         *nag **dapple-gray

So sweated, that it wonder was to see;

It seem'd as he had pricked* miles three.                       *spurred

The horse eke that his yeoman rode upon

So sweated, that unnethes* might he gon.**                  *hardly **go

About the peytrel <3> stood the foam full high;

He was of foam, as *flecked as a pie.*         *spotted like a magpie*

A maile twyfold <4> on his crupper lay;

It seemed that he carried little array;

All light for summer rode this worthy man.

And in my heart to wonder I began

What that he was, till that I understood

How that his cloak was sewed to his hood;

For which, when I had long advised* me,                     *considered

I deemed him some Canon for to be.

His hat hung at his back down by a lace,*                         *cord

For he had ridden more than trot or pace;

He hadde pricked like as he were wood.*                            *mad

A clote-leaf* he had laid under his hood,              * burdock-leaf

For sweat, and for to keep his head from heat.

But it was joye for to see him sweat;

His forehead dropped as a stillatory*                           *still

Were full of plantain or of paritory.*                     *wallflower

And when that he was come, he gan to cry,

"God save," quoth he, "this jolly company.

Fast have I pricked," quoth he, "for your sake,

Because that I would you overtake,

To riden in this merry company."

His Yeoman was eke full of courtesy, And saide,

"Sirs, now in the morning tide

Out of your hostelry I saw you ride,

And warned here my lord and sovereign,

Which that to ride with you is full fain,

For his disport; he loveth dalliance."

"Friend, for thy warning God give thee good chance,"*         *fortune

Said oure Host; "certain it woulde seem

Thy lord were wise, and so I may well deem;

He is full jocund also, dare I lay;

Can he aught tell a merry tale or tway,

With which he gladden may this company?"

"Who, Sir? my lord? Yea, Sir, withoute lie,

He can* of mirth and eke of jollity                              *knows

*Not but* enough; also, Sir, truste me,                  *not less than*

An* ye him knew all so well as do I,                                *if

Ye would wonder how well and craftily

He coulde work, and that in sundry wise.

He hath take on him many a great emprise,*          *task, undertaking

Which were full hard for any that is here

To bring about, but* they of him it lear.**            *unless **learn

As homely as he rides amonges you,

If ye him knew, it would be for your prow:*                 *advantage

Ye woulde not forego his acquaintance

For muche good, I dare lay in balance

All that I have in my possession.

He is a man of high discretion.

I warn you well, he is a passing* man."     *surpassing, extraordinary

Well," quoth our Host, "I pray thee tell me than,

Is he a clerk,* or no? Tell what he is."               *scholar, priest

“ Nay, he is greater than a clerk, y-wis,"*                  *certainly

Saide this Yeoman; "and, in wordes few,

Host, of his craft somewhat I will you shew,

I say, my lord can* such a subtlety                             *knows

(But all his craft ye may not weet* of me,                       *learn

And somewhat help I yet to his working),

That all the ground on which we be riding

Till that we come to Canterbury town,

He could all cleane turnen up so down,

And pave it all of silver and of gold."

And when this Yeoman had this tale told

Unto our Host, he said; "Ben'dicite!

This thing is wonder marvellous to me,

Since that thy lord is of so high prudence,

Because of which men should him reverence,

That of his worship* recketh he so lite;**            *honour **little

His *overest slop* it is not worth a mite              *upper garment*

As in effect to him, so may I go;

It is all baudy* and to-tore also.                            *slovenly

Why is thy lord so sluttish, I thee pray,

 And is of power better clothes to bey,*                            *buy

If that his deed accordeth with thy speech?

Telle me that, and that I thee beseech."

 

"Why?" quoth this Yeoman, "whereto ask ye me?

God help me so, for he shall never the*                         *thrive

(But I will not avowe* that I say,                               *admit

And therefore keep it secret, I you pray);

He is too wise, in faith, as I believe.

Thing that is overdone, it will not preve*             *stand the test

Aright, as clerkes say; it is a vice;

Wherefore in that I hold him *lewd and nice."*  *ignorant and foolish*

For when a man hath over great a wit,

Full oft him happens to misusen it;

So doth my lord, and that me grieveth sore.

God it amend; I can say now no more."

 

"Thereof *no force,* good Yeoman, "quoth our Host;         *no matter*

"Since of the conning* of thy lord, thou know'st,           *knowledge

Tell how he doth, I pray thee heartily,

Since that be is so crafty and so sly.*                           *wise

Where dwelle ye, if it to telle be?"

"In the suburbes of a town," quoth he,

"Lurking in hernes* and in lanes blind,                        *corners

Where as these robbers and these thieves by kind*              *nature

Holde their privy fearful residence,

As they that dare not show their presence,

So fare we, if I shall say the soothe."*                        *truth

"Yet," quoth our Hoste, "let me talke to thee;

Why art thou so discolour'd of thy face?"

"Peter!" quoth he, "God give it harde grace,

I am so us'd the hote fire to blow,

That it hath changed my colour,

I trow; I am not wont in no mirror to pry,

But swinke* sore, and learn to multiply. <5>                    *labour

We blunder* ever, and poren** in the fire,                  *toil **peer

And, for