1 Whan folk hadde laughen at this nyce cas
2 Of Absolon and hende Nicholas,
3 Diverse folk diversely they seyde,
4 But for the moore part they loughe and pleyde,
5 Ne at this tale I saugh no man hym greve,
6 But it were oonly Osewold the Reve;
7 Bycause he was of carpenteres craft,
8 A litel ire is in his herte ylaft;
9 He gan to grucche, and blamed it a lite.
10 So theek, quod he, ful wel koude I you quite,
11 With bleryng of a proud milleres eye,
12 If that me liste speke of ribaudye.
13 But ik am oold, me list no pley for age,
14 Gras-tyme is doon, my fodder is now forage,
15 This white top writeth myne olde yeris,
16 Myn herte is also mowled as myne heris,
17 But if I fare as dooth an open-ers;
18 That ilke fruyt is ever leng the wers,
19 Til it be roten in mullok or in stree.
20 We olde men, I drede, so fare we,
21 Til we be roten kan we nat be rype.
22 We hoppen ay whil that the world wol pype,
23 For in oure wyl ther stiketh evere a nayl
24 To have an hoor heed and a grene tayl,
25 As hath a leek, for thogh oure myght be goon,
26 Oure wyl desireth folie evere in oon.
27 For whan we may nat doon, than wol we speke,
28 Yet in oure asshen olde is fyr yreke.

29 Foure gleedes han we whiche I shal devyse,
30 Avauntyng, lying, anger, coveitise;
31 Thise foure sparkles longen unto eelde.
32 Oure olde lemes mowe wel been unweelde,
33 But wyl ne shal nat faillen, that is sooth.
34 And yet ik have alwey a coltes tooth,
35 As many a yeer as it is passed henne
36 Syn that my tappe of lif bigan to renne.
37 For sikerly whan I was bore, anon
38 Deeth drough the tappe of lyf, and leet it gon,
39 And ever sithe hath so the tappe yronne,
40 Til that almoost al empty is the tonne.
41 The streem of lyf now droppeth on the chymbe;
42 The sely tonge may wel rynge and chymbe
43 Of wrecchednesse that passed is ful yoore.
44 With olde folk, save dotage, is namoore.

45 Whan that oure Hoost hadde herd this sermonyng,
46 He gan to speke as lordly as a kyng,
47 He seide, What amounteth al this wit?
48 What shul we speke alday of hooly writ?
49 The devel made a reve for to preche,
50 And of a soutere, shipman, or a leche.
51 Sey forth thy tale, and tarie nat the tyme.
52 Lo Depeford, and it is half-wey pryme;
53 Lo, Grenewych, ther many a shrewe is inne;
54 It were al tyme thy tale to bigynne.
55 Now sires, quod this Osewold the Reve,
56 I pray yow alle, that ye nat yow greve,
57 Thogh I answere, and somdeel sette his howve,
58 For leveful is with force force of-showve.
59 This dronke Millere hath ytoold us heer,
60 How that bigyled was a Crpenteer,
61 Peraventure in scorn, for I am oon;
62 And by youre leve I shal hym quite anoon.
63 Right in his cherles termes wol I speke,
64 I pray to God his nekke mote breke!
65 He kan wel in myn eye seen a stalke,
66 But in his owene he kan nat seen a balke.

1 At trumpyngtoun, nat fer fro cantebrigge,
2 Ther gooth a brook, and over that a brigge,
3 Upon the whiche brook ther stant a melle;
4 And this is verray sooth that I yow telle
5 A millere was ther dwellynge many a day.
6 As any pecok he was proud and gay.
7 Pipen he koude and fisshe, and nettes beete,
8 And turne coppes, and wel wrastle and sheete;
9 Ay by his belt he baar a long panade,
10 And of a swerd ful trenchant was the blade
11 A joly poppere baar he is in his pouche;
12 Ther was no man, for peril, dorste hym touche.
13 A Sheffeld thwitel baar he in his hose.
14 Round was his face, and camus was his nose;
15 As piled as an ape was his skulle.
16 He was a market-betere atte fulle.
17 Ther dorste no wight hand upon hym legge,
18 That he ne swoor he sholde anon abegge.
19 A theef he was for sothe of corn and mele,
20 And that a sly, and usaunt for to stele.
21 His name was hoote deynous Symkyn.
22 A wyf he hadde, ycomen of noble kyn;
23 The person of the toun hir fader was.
24 With hire he yaf ful many a panne of bras,
25 For that Symkyn sholde in his blood allye.
26 She was yfostred in a nonnerye;
27 For Symkyn wolde no wyf, as he sayde,
28 But she were wel ynorissed and a mayde,
29 To saven his estaat of yomanrye.
30 And she was proud, and peert as is a pye.
31 A ful fair sighte was it upon hem two;
32 On halydayes biforn hire wolde he go
33 With his typet bounden aboute his heed,
34 And she cam after in a gyte of reed;
35 And Symkyn hadde hosen of the same.
36 Ther dorste no wight clepen hire but dame;
37 Was noon so hardy that wente by the weye
38 That with hire dorste rage or ones pleye,
39 But if he wolde be slayn of Symkyn
40 With panade, or with knyf, or boidekyn.
41 For jalous folk ben perilous everemo;
42 Algate they wolde hire wyves wenden so.
43 And eek, for she was somdel smoterlich,
44 She was as digne as water in a dich,
45 And ful of hoker and of bisemare.
46 Hir thoughte that a lady sholde hire spare,
47 What for hire kynrede and hir nortelrie
48 That she hadde lerned in the nonnerie.

49 A doghter hadde they bitwixe hem two
50 Of twenty yeer, withouten any mo,
51 Savynge a child that was of half yeer age;
52 In cradel it lay and was a propre page.
53 This wenche thikke and wel ygrowen was,
54 With kamus nose, and eyen greye as glas,
55 With buttokes brode, and brestes rounde and hye;
56 But right fair was hire heer, I wol nat lye.

57 This person of the toun, for she was feir,
58 In purpos was to maken hire his heir,
59 Bothe of his catel and his mesuage,
60 And straunge he made it of hir mariage.
61 His purpos was for to bistowe hire hye
62 Into som worthy blood of auncetrye;
63 For hooly chirches good moot been despended
64 On hooly chirches blood, that is descended.
65 Therfore he wolde his hooly blood honoure,
66 Though that he hooly chirche sholde devoure.

67 Greet sokene hath this millere, out of doute,
68 With whete and malt of al the land aboute;
69 And nameliche ther was a greet collegge
70 Men clepen the soler halle at cantebregge;
71 Ther was hir whete and eek hir malt ygrounde.
72 And on a day it happed, in a stounde,
73 Sik lay the maunciple on a maladye;
74 Men wenden wisly that he sholde dye.
75 For which this millere stal bothe mele and corn
76 An hundred tyme moore than biforn;
77 For therbiforn he stal but curteisly,
78 But now he was a theef outrageously,
79 For which the wardeyn chidde and made fare.
80 But therof sette the millere nat a tare;
81 He craketh boost, and swoor it was nat so.

82 Thanne were ther yonge povre scolers two,
83 That dwelten in this halle, of which I seye.
84 Testif they were, and lusty for to pleye,
85 And, oonly for hire myrthe and revelrye,
86 Upon the wardeyn bisily they crye
87 To yeve hem leve, but a litel stounde,
88 To goon to mille and seen hir corn ygrounde;
89 And hardily they dorste leye hir nekke
90 The millere sholde not stele hem half a pekke
91 Of corn by sleighte, ne by force hem reve;
92 And at the laste the wardeyn yaf hem leve.
93 John highte that oon, and aleyn highte that oother;
94 Of o toun were they born, that highte strother,
95 Fer in the north, I kan nat telle where.
96 This aleyn maketh redy al his gere,
97 And on an hors the sak he caste anon.
98 Forth goth aleyn the clerk, and also John,
99 With good swerd and with bokeler by hir syde.
100 John knew the wey, -- hem nedede no gyde, --
101 And at the mille the sak adoun he layth.
102 Aleyn spak first, al hayl, Symond, y-fayth!
103 Hou fares thy faire doghter and thy wyf?

104 Aleyn, welcome, quod Symkyn, by my lyf!
105 And John also, how now, what do ye heer?

106 Symond, quod John, by god, nede has na peer.
107 Hym boes serve hymself that has na swayn,
108 Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes sayn.
109 Oure manciple, I hope he wil be deed,
110 Swa werkes ay the wanges in his heed;
111 And forthy is I come, and eek Alayn,
112 To grynde oure corn and carie it ham agayn;
113 I pray yow spede us heythen that ye may.

114 It shal be doon, quod Symkyn, by my fay!
115 What wol ye doon whil that it is in hande?

116 By god, right by the hopur wil I stande,
117 Quod John, and se howgates the corn gas in.
118 Yet saugh I nevere, by my fader kyn,
119 How that the hopur wagges til and fra.

120 Aleyn answerde, John, and wiltow swa?
121 Thanne wil I be bynethe, by my croun,
122 And se how that the mele falles doun
123 Into the trough; that sal be my disport.
124 For John, y-faith, I may been of youre sort;
125 I is as ille a millere as ar ye.

126 This millere smyled of hir nycetee,
127 And thoghte, al this nys doon but for a wyle.
128 They wene that no man may hem bigyle,
129 But by my thrift, yet shal I blere hir ye,
130 For al the sleighte in hir philosophye.
131 The moore queynte crekes that they make,
132 The moore wol I stele whan I take.
133 In stide of flour yet wol I yeve hem bren.
134 -- The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men, --
135 As whilom to the wolf thus spak the mare.
136 Of al hir art ne counte I noght a tare.

137 Out at the dore he gooth ful pryvely,
138 Whan that he saugh his tyme, softely.
139 He looketh up and doun til he hath founde
140 The clerkes hors, ther as it stood ybounde
141 Bihynde the mille, under a levesel;
142 And to the hors he goth hym faire and wel;
143 He strepeth of the brydel right anon.
144 And whan the hors was laus, he gynneth gon
145 Toward the fen, ther wilde mares renne,
146 And forth with wehee, thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne.

147 This millere gooth agayn, no word he seyde,
148 But dooth his note, and with the clerkes pleyde,
149 Til that hir corn was faire and well ygrounde.
150 And whan the mele is sakked and ybounde,
151 This John goth out and fynt his hors away,
152 And gan to crie harrow! and weylaway!
153 Oure hors is lorn, Alayn, for goddes banes,
154 Step on thy feet! com of, man, al atanes!
155 Allas, our wardeyn has his palfrey lorn.
156 This aleyn al forgat, bothe mele and corn;
157 Al was out of his mynde his housbondrie.
158 What, whilk way is he geen? he gan to crie.

159 The wyf cam lepynge inward with a ren.
160 She seyde, allas! youre hors goth to the fen
161 With wilde mares, as faste as he may go.
162 Unthank come on his hand that boond hym so,
163 And he that bettre sholde han knyt the reyne!

164 Allas, quod John, aleyn, for cristes peyne
165 Lay doun thy swerd, and I wil myn alswa.
166 I is ful wight, God waat, as is a raa;
167 By goddes herte, he sal nat scape us bathe!
168 Why ne had thow pit the capul in the lathe?
169 Ilhayl! by god, Alayn, thou is a fonne!

170 Thise sely clerkes han ful faste yronne
171 Toward the fen, bothe aleyn and eek John.
172 And whan the millere saugh that they were gon,
173 He half a busshel of hir flour hath take,
174 And bad his wyf go knede it in a cake.
175 He seyde, I trowe the clerkes were aferd.
176 Yet kan a millere make a clerkes berd,
177 For al his art; now lat hem goon hir weye!
178 Lo, wher he gooth! ye, lat the children pleye.
179 They gete hym nat so lightly, by my croun.

180 Thise sely clerkes rennen up and doun
181 With keep! keep! stand! stand! jossa, warderere,
182 Ga whistle thou, and I shal kepe hym heere!
183 But shortly, til that it was verray nyght,
184 They koude nat, though they dide al hir myght,
185 Hir capul cacche, he ran alwey so faste,
186 Til in a dych they caughte hym atte laste.

187 Wery and weet, as beest is in the reyn,
188 Comth sely John, and with him comth aleyn.
189 Allas, quod John, the day that I was born!
190 Now are we dryve til hethyng and til scorn.
191 Oure corn is stoln, men wil us fooles calle,
192 Bathe the wardeyn and oure felawes alle,
193 And namely the millere, weylaway!

194 Thus pleyneth John as he gooth by the way
195 Toward the mille, and bayard in his hond.
196 The millere sittynge by the fyr he fond,
197 For it was nyght, and forther myghte they noght;
198 But for the love of God they hym bisoght
199 Of herberwe and of ese, as for hir peny.

200 The millere seyde agayn, if ther be eny,
201 Swich as it is, yet shal ye have youre part.
202 Myn hous is streit, but ye han lerned art;
203 Ye konne by argumentes make a place
204 A myle brood of twenty foot of space.
205 Lat se now if this place may suffise,
206 Or make it rowm with speche, as is youre gise.

207 Now, Symond, seyde John, by seint Cutberd,
208 Ay is thou myrie, and this is faire answerd.
209 I have herd seyd, -- man sal taa of twa thynges
210 Slyk as he fyndes, or taa slyk as he brynges. --
211 But specially I pray thee, hooste deere,
212 Get us som mete and drynke, and make us cheere,
213 And we wil payen trewely atte fulle.
214 With empty hand men may na haukes tulle;
215 Loo, heere oure silver, redy for to spende.

216 This millere into toun his doghter sende
217 For ale and breed, and rosted hem a goos,
218 And boond hire hors, it sholde namoore go loos;
219 And in his owene chambre hem made a bed,
220 With sheetes and with chalons faire yspred
221 Noght from his owene bed ten foot or twelve.
222 His doghter hadde a bed, al by hirselve,
223 Right in the same chambre by and by.
224 It myghte be no bet, and cause why?
225 Ther was no roumer herberwe in the place.
226 They soupen and they speke, hem to solace,
227 And drynken evere strong ale atte beste.
228 Aboute mydnyght wente they to reste.

229 Wel hath this millere vernysshed his heed;
230 Ful pale he was for dronken, and nat reed.
231 He yexeth, and he speketh thurgh the nose
232 As he were on the quakke, or on the pose.
233 To bedde he goth, and with hym goth his wyf.
234 As any jay she light was and jolyf,
235 So was hir joly whistle wel ywet.
236 The cradel at hir beddes feet is set,
237 To rokken, and to yeve the child to sowke.
238 And whan that dronken al was in the crowke,
239 To bedde wente the doghter right anon;
240 To bedde goth aleyn and also John;
241 Ther nas na moore, -- hem nedede no dwale.
242 This millere hath so wisely bibbed ale
243 That as an hors he fnorteth in his sleep,
244 Ne of his tayl bihynde he took no keep.
245 His wyf bar hym a burdon, a ful strong;
246 Men myghte hir rowtyng heere two furlong;
247 The wenche rowteth eek, par compaignye.

248 Aleyn the clerk, that herde this melodye,
249 He poked John, and seyde, slepestow?
250 Herdestow evere slyk a sang er now?
251 Lo, swilk a complyn is ymel hem alle,
252 A wilde fyr upon thair bodyes falle!
253 Wha herkned evere slyk a ferly thyng?
254 Ye, they sal have the flour of il endyng.
255 This lange nyght ther tydes me na reste;
256 But yet, nafors, al sal be for the beste.
257 For, John, seyde he, als evere moot I thryve,
258 If that I may, yon wenche wil I swyve.
259 Som esement has lawe yshapen us;
260 For, John, ther is a lawe that says thus,
261 That gif a man in a point be agreved,
262 That in another he sal be releved.
263 Oure corn is stoln, sothly, it is na nay,
264 And we han had an il fit al this day;
265 And syn I sal have neen amendement
266 Agayn my los, I will have esement.
267 By goddes sale, it sal neen other bee!

268 This John answerde, Alayn, avyse thee!
269 The millere is a perilous man, he seyde,
270 And gif that he out of his sleep abreyde,
271 He myghte doon us bathe a vileynye.

272 Aleyn answerde, I counte hym nat a flye.
273 And up he rist, and by the wenche he crepte.
274 This wenche lay uprighte, and faste slepte,
275 Til he so ny was, er she myghte espie,
276 That it had been to late for to crie,
277 And shortly for to seyn, they were aton.
278 Now pley, aleyn, for I wol speke of John.

279 This John lith stille a furlong wey or two,
280 And to hymself he maketh routhe and wo.
281 Allas! quod he, this is a wikked jape;
282 Now may I seyn that I is but an ape.
283 Yet has my felawe somwhat for his harm;
284 He has the milleris doghter in his arm.
285 He auntred hym, and has his nedes sped,
286 And I lye as a draf-sak in my bed;
287 And when this jape is tald another day,
288 I sal been halde a daf, a cokenay!
289 I wil arise and auntre it, by my fayth!
290 -- Unhardy is unseely, -- thus men sayth.
291 And up he roos, and softely he wente
292 Unto the cradel, and in his hand it hente,
293 And baar it softe unto his beddes feet.

294 Soone after this the wyf hir rowtyng leet,
295 And gan awake, and wente hire out to pisse,
296 And cam agayn, and gan hir cradel mysse,
297 And groped heer and ther, but she foond noon.
298 Allas! quod she, I hadde almoost mysgoon;
299 I hadde almoost goon to the clerkes bed.
300 Ey, benedicite! thanne hadde I foule ysped.
301 And forth she gooth til she the cradel fond.
302 She gropeth alwey forther with hir hond,
303 And foond the bed, and thoghte noght but good,
304 By cause that the cradel by it stood,
305 And nyste wher she was, for it was derk;
306 But faire and wel she creep in to the clerk,
307 And lith ful stille, and wolde han caught a sleep.
308 Withinne a while this John the clerk up leep,
309 And on this goode wyf he leith on soore.
310 So myrie a fit ne hadde she nat ful yoore;
311 He priketh harde and depe as he were mad.
312 This joly lyf han thise two clerkes lad
313 Til that the thridde cok bigan to synge.

314 Aleyn wax wery in the dawenynge,
315 For he had swonken al the longe nyght,
316 And seyde, fare weel, malyne, sweete wight!
317 The day is come, I may no lenger byde;
318 But everemo, wher so I go or ryde,
319 I is thyn awen clerk, swa have I seel!

320 Now, deere lemman, quod she, go, far weel!
321 But er thow go, o thyng I wol thee telle
322 Whan that thou wendest homward by the melle,
323 Right at the entree of the dore bihynde
324 Thou shalt a cake of half a busshel fynde
325 That was ymaked of thyn owene mele,
326 Which that I heelp my sire for to stele.
327 And, goode lemman, God thee save and kepe!
328 And with that word almoost she gan to wepe.

329 Aleyn up rist, and thoughte, er that it dawe,
330 I wol go crepen in by my felawe;
331 And fond the cradel with his hand anon.
332 By god, thoughte he, al wrang I have mysgon.
333 Myn heed is toty of my swynk to-nyght,
334 That makes me that I ga nat aright.
335 I woot wel by the cradel I have mysgo;
336 Heere lith the millere and his wyf also.
337 And forth he goth, a twenty devel way,
338 Unto the bed ther as the millere lay.
339 He wende have cropen by his felawe John,
340 And by the millere in he creep anon,
341 And caughte hym by the nekke, and softe he spak.
342 He seyde, thou John, thou swynes-heed, awak,
343 For cristes saule, and heer a noble game.
344 For by that lord that called is seint jame,
345 As I have thries in this shorte nyght
346 Swyved the milleres doghter bolt upright,
347 Whil thow hast, as a coward, been agast.

348 Ye, false harlot, quod the miller, hast?
349 A, false traitour! false clerk! quod he,
350 Thow shalt be deed, by goddes dignitee!
351 Who dorste be so boold to disparage
352 My doghter, that is come of swich lynage?
353 And by the throte-bolle he caughte Alayn,
354 And he hente hym despitously agayn,
355 And on the nose he smoot hym with his fest.
356 Doun ran the blody streem upon his brest;
357 And in the floor, with nose and mouth tobroke,
358 They walwe as doon two pigges in a poke;
359 And up they goon, and doun agayn anon,
360 Til that the millere sporned at a stoon,
361 And doun he fil bakward upon his wyf,
362 That wiste no thyng of this nyce stryf;
363 For she was falle aslepe a lite wight
364 With John the clerk, that waked hadde al nyght,
365 And with the fal out of hir sleep she breyde.
366 Help! hooly croys of Bromeholm, she seyde,
367 In manus tuas! lord, to thee I calle!
368 Awak, Symond! the feend is on me falle.
369 Myn herte is broken; help! I nam but deed!
370 Ther lyth oon upon my wombe and on myn heed.
371 Help, Symkyn, for the false clerkes fighte!

372 This John stirte up as faste as ever he myghte,
373 And graspeth by the walles to and fro,
374 To fynde a staf; and she stirte up also,
375 And knew the estres bet than dide this John,
376 And by the wal a staf she foond anon,
377 And saugh a litel shymeryng of a light,
378 For at an hole in shoon the moone bright;
379 And by that light she saugh hem bothe two,
380 But sikerly she nyste who was who,
381 But as she saugh a whit thyng in hir ye.
382 And whan she gan this white thyng espye,
383 She wende the clerk hadde wered a volupeer,
384 And with the staf she drow ay neer and neer,
385 And wende han hit this aleyn at the fulle,
386 And smooth the millere on the pyled skulle,
387 That doun he gooth, and cride, harrow! I dye!
388 Thise clerkes beete hym weel and lete hym lye;
389 And greythen hem, and tooke hir hors anon,
390 And eek hire mele, and on hir wey they gon.
391 And at the mille yet they tooke hir cake
392 Of half a busshel flour, ful wel ybake.

393 Thus is the proude millere wel ybete,
394 And hath ylost the gryndynge of the whete,
395 And payed for the soper everideel
396 Of aleyn and of John, that bette hym weel.
397 His wyf is swyved, and his doghter als.
398 Lo, swich it is a millere to be fals!
399 And therfore this proverbe is seyd ful sooth,
400 Hym thar nat wene wel that yvele dooth;
401 A gylour shal hymself bigyled be.
402 And god, that sitteth heighe in magestee,
403 Save al this compaignye, grete and smale!
404 Thus have I quyt the millere in my tale.