Prologue
1 This somonour in his styropes hye stood;
2 Upon this frere his herte was so wood
3 That lyk an aspen leef he quook for ire.
4 Lordynges, quod he, but o thyng I desire;
5 I yow biseke that, of youre curteisye,
6 Syn ye han herd this false frere lye,
7 As suffreth me I may my tale telle.
8 This frere bosteth that he knoweth helle,
9 And God it woot, that it is litel wonder;
10 Freres and feendes been but lyte asonder.
11 For, pardee, ye han ofte tyme herd telle
12 How that a frere ravyshed was to helle
13 In spirit ones by a visioun;
14 And as an angel ladde hym up and doun,
15 To shewen hym the peynes that the were,
16 In al the place saugh he nat a frere;
17 Of oother folk he saugh ynowe in wo.
18 Unto this angel spak the frere tho
19 Now, sire, quod he, han freres swich a grace
20 That noon of hem shal come to this place?
21 Yis, quod this aungel, many a millioun!
22 And unto Sathanas he ladde hym doun.
23 -- And now hath Sathanas, -- seith he, -- a tayl
24 Brodder than of a carryk is the sayl.
25 Hold up thy tayl, thou Sathanas! -- quod he;
26 -- shewe forth thyn ers, and lat the frere se
27 Where is the nest of freres in this place! --
28 And er that half a furlong wey of space,
29 Right so as bees out swarmen from an hyve,
30 Out of the develes ers ther gonne dryve
31 Twenty thousand freres on a route,
32 And thurghout helle swarmed al aboute,
33 And comen agayn as faste as they may gon,
34 And in his ers they crepten everychon.
35 He clapte his tayl agayn and lay ful stille.
36 This frere, whan he looked hadde his fille
37 Upon the tormentz of this sory place,
38 His spirit God restored, of his grace,
39 Unto his body agayn, and he awook.
40 But natheles, for fere yet he quook,
41 So was the develes ers ay in his mynde,
42 That is his heritage of verray kynde.
43 God save yow alle, save this cursed frere!
44 My prologe wol I ende in this manere.
1 Lordynges, ther is in yorkshire, as I gesse,
2 A mersshy contree called holdernesse,
3 In which ther wente a lymytour aboute,
4 To preche, and eek to begge, it so no doute.
5 And so bifel that on a day this frere
6 Hadde preched at a chirche in his manere,
7 And specially, aboven every thyng,
8 Excited he the peple in his prechyng
9 To trentals, and to yeve, for goddes sake,
10 Wherwith men myghte hooly houses make,
11 Ther as divine servyce is honoured,
12 Nat ther as it is wasted and devoured,
13 Ne ther it nedeth nat for to be yive,
14 As to possessioners, that mowen lyve,
15 Thanked be god, in wele and habundaunce.
16 Trentals, seyde he, deliveren fro penaunce
17 Hir freendes soules, as wel olde as yonge, --
18 Ye, whan that they been hastily ysonge,
19 Nat for to holde a preest holy and gay --
20 He syngeth nat but o masse in a day.
21 Delivereth out, quod he, anon the soules!
22 Ful hard it is with flesshhook or with oules
23 To been yclawed, or to brenne or bake.
24 Now spede yow hastily, for cristes sake!
25 And whan this frere had seyd al his entente,
26 With qui cum patre forth his wey he wente.
27 Whan folk in chirche had yeve him what hem leste,
28 He wente his wey, no lenger wolde he reste,
29 With scrippe and tipped staf, ytukked hye,
30 In every hous he gan to poure and prye,
31 And beggeth mele and chese, or elles corn.
32 His felawe hadde a staf tipped with horn,
33 A peyre of tables al of yvory,
34 And a poyntel polysshed fetisly,
35 And wrooth the names alwey, as he stood,
36 Of alle folk that yaf hym any good,
37 Ascaunces that he wolde for hem preye.
38 Yif us a busshel whete, malt, or reye,
39 A goddes kechyl, or a trype of chese,
40 Or elles what yow lyst, we may nat cheese;
41 A goddes halfpeny, or a masse peny,
42 Or yif us of youre brawn, if ye have eny;
43 A dagon of youre blanket, leeve dame,
44 Oure suster deere, -- lo! heere I write youre name, --
45 Bacon or beef, or swich thyng as ye fynde.
46 A sturdy harlot wente ay hem bihynde,
47 That was hir hostes man, and bar a sak,
48 And what men yaf hem, leyde it on his bak.
49 And whan that he was out at dore, anon
50 He planed awey the names everichon
51 That he biforn had writen in his tables;
52 He served hem with nyfles and with fables.
53 Nay, ther thou lixt, thou somonour! quod the frere.
54 Pees, quod oure hoost, for cristes mooder deere!
55 Tel forth thy tale, and spare it nat at al.
56 So thryve I, quod this somonour, so I shal!
57 So longe he wente, hous by hous, til he
58 Cam til an hous ther he was wont to be
59 Refresshed moore than in an hundred placis.
60 Syk lay the goode man whos that the place is;
61 Bedrede upon a couche lowe he lay.
62 Deus hic! quod he, o thomas, freend, good day!
63 Seyde this frere, curteisly and softe.
64 Thomas, quod he, God yelde yow! ful ofte
65 Have I upon this bench faren ful weel;
66 Heere have I eten many a myrie meel.
67 And fro the bench he droof awey the cat,
68 And leyde adoun his potente and his hat,
69 And eek his scrippe, and sette hym softe adoun.
70 His felawe was go walked into toun
71 Forth with his knave, into that hostelrye
72 Where as he shoop hym thilke nyght to lye.
73 O deere maister, quod this sike man,
74 How han ye fare sith that march bigan?
75 I saugh yow noght this fourtenyght or moore.
76 God woot, quod he, laboured have I ful soore,
77 And specially, for thy savacion
78 Have I seyd many a precious orison,
79 And for oure othere freendes, God hem blesse!
80 I have to day been at youre chirche at messe,
81 And seyd a sermon after my symple wit,
82 Nat al after the text of hooly writ;
83 For it is hard to yow, as I suppose,
84 And therfore wol I teche yow al the glose.
85 Glosynge is a glorious thyng, certeyn,
86 For lettre sleeth, so as we clerkes seyn.
87 There have I taught hem to be charitable,
88 And spende hir good ther it is resonable;
89 And there I saugh oure dame, -- a! where is she?
90 Yond in the yerd I trowe that she be,
91 Seyde this man,and she wol come anon.
92 Ey, maister, welcome be ye, by seint john!
93 Seyde this wyf, how fare ye, hertely?
94 The frere ariseth up ful curteisly,
95 And hire embraceth in his armes narwe,
96 And kiste hire sweete, and chirketh as a sparwe
97 With his lyppes: dame, quod he, right weel,
98 As he that is youre servent every deel,
99 Thanked be god, that yow yaf soule and lyf!
100 Yet saugh I nat this day so fair a wyf
101 In al the chirche, God so save me!
102 Ye, God amende defautes, sire, quod she.
103 Algates, welcome be ye, by my fey!
104 Graunt mercy, dame, this have I founde alwey.
105 But of youre grete goodnesse, by youre leve,
106 I wolde prey yow that ye nat yow greve,
107 I wole with thomas speke a litel throwe.
108 Thise curatz been ful necligent and slowe
109 To grope tendrely a conscience
110 In shrift; in prechyng is my diligence,
111 And studie in Petres wordes and in Poules.
112 I walke, and fisshe cristen mennes soules,
113 To yelden jhesu crist his propre rente;
114 To sprede his word is set al myn entente.
115 Now, by youre leve, o deere sire, she,
116 Chideth him weel, for seinte trinitee!
117 He is as angry as a pissemyre,
118 Though that he have al that he kan desire,
119 Though I hym wrye a-nyght and make hym warm,
120 And over hym leye my leg outher myn arm,
121 He groneth lyk oure boor, lith in oure sty.
122 Oother desport right noon of hym have I;
123 I may nat plese hym in no maner cas.
124 O thomas, je vous dy, thomas! thomas!
125 This maketh the feend; this moste ben amended.
126 Ire is a thyng that hye God defended,
127 And therof wol I speke a word or two.
128 Now, maister, quod the wyf, er that I go,
129 What wol ye dyne? I wol go theraboute.
130 Now dame, quod he, now je vous dy sanz doute,
131 Have I nat of a capon but the lyvere,
132 And of youre softe breed nat but a shyvere,
133 And after that a rosted pigges heed --
134 But that I nolde no beest for me were deed --
135 Thanne hadde I with yow hoomly suffisaunce.
136 I am a man of litel sustenaunce;
137 My spirit hath his fostryng in the bible.
138 The body is ay so redy and penyble
139 To wake, that my stomak is destroyed.
140 I prey yow, dame, ye be nat anoyed,
141 Though I so freendly yow my conseil shewe.
142 By god! I wolde nat telle it but a fewe.
143 Now, sire, quod she, but o word er I go.
144 My child is deed withinne thise wykes two,
145 Soone after that ye wente out of this toun.
146 His deeth saugh I by revelacioun,
147 Seide this frere, at hoom in oure dortour.
148 I dar wel seyn that, er that half an hour
149 After his deeth, I saugh hym born to blisse
150 In myn avision, so God me wisse!
151 So didde oure sexteyn and oure fermerer,
152 That han been trewe freres fifty yeer;
153 They may now -- God be thanked of his loone! --
154 Maken hir jubilee and walke allone.
155 And up I roos, and al oure covent eke,
156 With many a teere trillyng on my cheke,
157 Withouten noyse or claterynge of belles;
158 Te deum was oure song, and nothyng elles,
159 Save that to crist I seyde an orison,
160 Thankynge hym of his revelacion.
161 For, sire and dame, trusteth me right weel,
162 Oure orisons been moore effectueel,
163 And moore we seen of cristes secree thynges,
164 Than burel folk, although they weren kynges.
165 We lyve in poverte and in abstinence,
166 And burell folk in richesse and despence
167 Of mete and drynke, and in hir foul delit.
168 We han this worldes lust al in despit.
169 Lazar and dives lyveden diversly,
170 And divers gerdon hadden they therby.
171 Whoso wol preye, he moot faste and be clene,
172 And fatte his soule, and make his body lene.
173 We fare as seith th' apostle; clooth and foode
174 Suffisen us, though they be nat ful goode.
175 The clennesse and the fastynge of us freres
176 Maketh that crist accepteth oure preyeres.
177 Lo, moyses fourty dayes and fourty nyght
178 Fasted, er that the heighe God of myght
179 Spak with hym in the mountayne of synay.
180 With empty wombe, fastynge many a day,
181 Receyved he the lawe that was writen
182 With goddes fynger; and elye, wel ye witen,
183 In mount oreb, er he hadde any speche
184 With hye god, that is oure lyves leche,
185 He fasted longe, and was in contemplaunce.
186 Aaron, that hadde the temple in governaunce,
187 And eek the othere preestes everichon,
188 Into the temple whan they sholde gon
189 To preye for the peple, and do servyse,
190 They nolden drynken in no maner wyse
191 No drynke which that myghte hem dronke make,
192 But there in abstinence preye and wake,
193 Lest that they deyden. Taak heede what I seye!
194 But they be sobre that for the peple preye,
195 War that I seye -- namoore, for it suffiseth.
196 Oure lord jhesu, as hooly writ devyseth,
197 Yaf us ensample of fastynge and preyeres.
198 Therfore we mendynantz, we sely freres,
199 Been wedded to poverte and continence,
200 To charite, humblesse, and abstinence,
201 To persecucioun for rightwisnesse,
202 To wepynge, misericorde, and clennesse.
203 And therfore may ye se that oure preyeres --
204 I speke of us, we mendynantz, we freres --
205 Been to the hye God moore acceptable
206 Than youres, with youre feestes at the table.
207 Fro paradys first, if I shal nat lye,
208 Was man out chaced for his glotonye;
209 And chaast was man in paradys, certeyn.
210 But herkne now, thomas, what I shal seyn.
211 I ne have no text of it, as I suppose,
212 But I shal fynde it in a maner glose,
213 That specially oure sweete lord jhesus
214 Spak this by freres, whan he seyde thus
215 -- Blessed be they that povere in spirit been. --
216 And so forth al the gospel may ye seen,
217 Wher it be likker oure professioun,
218 Or hirs that swymmen in possessioun.
219 Fy on hire pompe and on hire glotonye!
220 And for hir lewednesse I hem diffye.
221 My thynketh they been lyk jovinyan,
222 Fat as a whale, and walkynge as a swan,
223 Al vinolent as botel in the spence.
224 Hir preyere is of ful greet reverence,
225 Whan they for soules seye the psalm of davit;
226 Lo, -- buf! -- they seye, -- cor meum eructavit! --
227 Who folweth cristes gospel and his foore,
228 But we that humble been, and chaast, and poore,
229 Werkeris of goddes word, nat auditours?
230 Therfore, right as an hauk up at a sours
231 Up springeth into th' eir, right so prayeres
232 Of charitable and chaste bisy freres
233 Maken hir sours to goddes eres two.
234 Thomas! thomas! so moote I ryde or go,
235 And by that lord that clepid is seint yve,
236 Nere thou oure brother, sholdestou nat thryve.
237 In our chapitre prayer we day and nyght
238 To crist, that he thee sende heele and myght
239 Thy body for to weelden hastily.
240 God woot, quod he, nothyng therof feele i!
241 As help me crist, as I in fewe yeres,
242 Have spent upon diverse manere freres
243 Ful many a pound; yet fare I never the bet.
244 Certeyn, my good have I almoost biset.
245 Farwel, my gold, for it is al ago!
246 The frere answerde, o thomas, dostow so?
247 What nedeth yow diverse freres seche?
248 What nedeth hym that hath a parfit leche
249 To sechen othere leches in the toun?
250 Youre inconstance is youre confusioun.
251 Holde ye thanne me, or elles oure covent,
252 To praye for yow been insufficient?
253 Thomas, that jape nys nat worth a myte.
254 Youre maladye is for we han to lyte.
255 A! yif that covent half a quarter otes!
256 A! yif that covent foure and twenty grotes!
257 A! yif that frere a peny, and lat hym go!
258 Nay, nay, thomas, it may no thyng be so!
259 What is a ferthyng worth parted in twelve?
260 Lo, ech thyng that is oned in himselve
261 Is moore strong than whan it is toscatered.
262 Thomas, of me thou shalt nat been yflatered;
263 Thou woldest han oure labour al for noght.
264 The hye god, that al this world hath wroght,
265 Seith that the werkman worthy is his hyre.
266 Thomas, noght of youre tresor I desire
267 As for myself, but that al oure covent
268 To preye for yow is ay so diligent,
269 And for to buylden cristes owene chirche.
270 Thomas, if ye wol lernen for to wirche,
271 Of buyldynge up of chirches may ye fynde,
272 If it be good, in thomas lyf of inde.
273 Ye lye heere ful of anger and of ire,
274 With which the devel set youre herte afyre,
275 And chiden heere the sely innocent,
276 Youre wyf, that is so meke and pacient.
277 And therfore, thomas, trowe me if thee leste,
278 Ne stryve nat with thy wyf, as for thy beste;
279 And ber this word awey now, by thy feith,
280 Touchynge swich thyng, lo, what the wise seith
281 -- Withinne thyn hous ne be thou no leon;
282 To thy subgitz do noon oppression,
283 Ne make thyne aqueyntances nat to flee. --
284 And, thomas, yet eft-soones I charge thee,
285 Be war from hire that in thy bosom slepeth;
286 War fro the serpent that so slily crepeth
287 Under the gras, and styngeth subtilly.
288 Be war, my sone, and herkne paciently,
289 That twenty thousand men han lost hir lyves
290 For stryvyng with hir lemmans and hir wyves.
291 Now sith ye han so hooly and meke a wyf,
292 What nedeth yow, thomas, to maken stryf?
293 Ther nys, ywys, no serpent so cruel,
294 Whan man tret on his tayl, ne half so fel,
295 As womman is, whan she hath caught an ire;
296 Vengeance is thanne al that they desire.
297 Ire is a synne, oon of the grete of sevene,
298 Abhomynable unto the God of hevene;
299 And to hymself it is destruccion.
300 This every lewed viker or person
301 Kan seye, how ire engendreth homycide.
302 Ire is, in sooth, executour of pryde.
303 I koude of ire seye so muche sorwe,
304 My tale sholde laste til to-morwe.
305 And therfore preye I god, bothe day and nyght,
306 An irous man, God sende hym litel myght!
307 It is greet harm and certes greet pitee
308 To sette an irous man in heigh degree.
309 Whilom ther was an irous potestat,
310 As seith senek, that, durynge his estaat,
311 Upon a day out ryden knyghtes two,
312 And as fortune wolde that it were so,
313 That oon of hem cam hoom, that oother noght.
314 Anon the knyght bifore the juge is broght,
315 That seyde thus, -- thou hast thy felawe slayn,
316 For which I deme thee to the deeth, certayn. --
317 And to another knyght comanded he,
318 -- Go lede hym to the deeth, I charge thee, --
319 And happed, as they wente by the weye
320 Toward the place ther he sholde deye,
321 The knyght cam which men wenden had be deed.
322 Thanne thoughte they it were the beste reed
323 To lede hem bothe to the juge agayn.
324 They seiden,-lord, the knyght ne hath nat slayn
325 His felawe; heere he standeth hool alyve. --
326 -- Ye shul be deed, -- quod he, -- so moot I thryve!
327 That is to seyn, bothe oon, and two, and thre! --
328 And to the firste knyght right thus spak he,
329 -- I dampned thee; thou most algate be deed.
330 And thou also most nedes lese thyn heed,
331 For thou art cause why thy felawe deyth. --
332 And to the thridde knyght right thus he seith,
333 -- Thou hast nat doon that I comanded thee. --
334 And thus he dide doon sleen hem alle thre.
335 Irous cambises was eek dronkelewe,
336 And ay delited hym to been a shrewe.
337 And so bifel, a lord of his meynee,
338 That loved vertuous moralitee,
339 Seyde on a day bitwix hem two right thus
340 -- A lord is lost, if he be vicius;
341 And dronkenesse is eek a foul record
342 Of any man, and namely in a lord.
343 Ther is ful many an eye and many an ere
344 Awaityng on a lord, and he noot where.
345 For goddes love, drynk moore attemprely!
346 Wyn maketh man to lesen wrecchedly
347 His mynde and eek his lymes everichon. --
348 -- The revers shaltou se, -- quod he, -- anon,
349 And preve it by thyn owene experience,
350 That wyn ne dooth to folk no swich offence.
351 Ther is no wyn bireveth me my myght
352 Of hand ne foot, ne of myne eyen sight. --
353 And for despit he drank ful muchel moore,
354 An hondred part, than he hadde don bifoore;
355 And right anon this irous, cursed wrecche
356 Leet this knyghtes sone bifore hym fecche,
357 Comandynge hym he sholde bifore hym stonde.
358 And sodeynly he took his bowe in honde,
359 And up the streng he pulled to his ere,
360 And with an arwe he slow the child right there.
361 -- Now wheither have I a siker hand or noon? --
362 Quod he; -- is al my myght and mynde agon?
363 Hath wyn bireved me myn eyen sight? --
364 What sholde I telle th' answere of the knyght?
365 His sone was slayn, ther is namoore to seye.
366 Beth war, therfore, with lordes how ye pleye.
367 Syngeth placebo, and -- I shal, if I kan, --
368 But if it be unto a povre man.
369 To a povre man men sholde his vices telle,
370 But nat to a lord, thogh he sholde go to helle.
371 Lo irous cirus, thilke percien,
372 How he destroyed the ryver of gysen,
373 For that an hors of his was dreynt therinne,
374 Whan that he wente babiloigne to wynne.
375 He made that the ryver was so smal
376 That wommen myghte wade it over al.
377 Lo, what seyde he that so wel teche kan?
378 -- Ne be no felawe to an irous man,
379 Ne with no wood man walke by the weye,
380 Lest thee repente; -- I wol no ferther seye.
381 Now, thomas, leeve brother, lef thyn ire;
382 Thou shalt me fynde as just as is a squyre.
383 Hoold nat the develes knyf ay at thyn herte --
384 Thyn angre dooth thee al to soore smerte --
385 But shewe to me al thy confessioun.
386 nay, quod the sike man, by seint symoun!
387 I have be shryven this day at my curat.
388 I have hym toold hoolly al myn estat;
389 Nedeth namoore to speken of it, seith he,
390 But if me list, of myn humylitee.
391 Yif me thanne of thy gold, to make oure cloystre,
392 Quod he, for many a muscle and many an oystre,
393 Whan othere men han ben ful wel at eyse,
394 Hath been oure foode, our cloystre for to reyse.
395 And yet, God woot, unnethe the fundement
396 Parfourned is, ne of our pavement
397 Nys nat a tyle yet withinne oure wones.
398 By god! we owen fourty pound for stones.
399 Now help, thomas, for hym that harwed helle!
400 For elles moste we oure bookes selle.
401 And if yow lakke oure predicacioun,
402 Thanne goth the world al to destruccioun.
403 For whoso wolde us fro this world bireve,
404 So God me save, thomas, by youre leve,
405 He wolde bireve out of this world the sonne.
406 For who kan teche and werchen as we konne?
407 And that is nat of litel tyme, quod he,
408 But syn elye was, or elise,
409 Han freres been, that funde I of record,
410 In charitee, ythanked be oure lord!
411 Now thomas, help, for seinte charitee!
412 And doun anon he sette hym on his knee.
413 This sike man wax wel ny wood for ire;
414 He wolde that the frere had been on-fire,
415 With his false dissymulacioun.
416 Swich thyng as is in my possessioun,
417 Quod he, that may I yeve yow, and noon oother.
418 Ye sey me thus, how that I am youre brother?
419 Ye, certes, quod the frere, trusteth weel.
420 I took oure dame oure lettre with oure seel.
421 Now wel, quod he, and somwhat shal I yive
422 Unto youre hooly covent whil I lyve;
423 And in thyn hand thou shalt it have anon,
424 On this condicion, and oother noon,
425 That thou departe it so, my deere brother,
426 That every frere have also muche as oother.
427 This shaltou swere on thy professioun,
428 Withouten fraude or cavillacioun.
429 I swere it, quod this frere, by my feith!
430 And therwithal his hand in his he leith,
431 Lo, heer my feith; in me shal be no lak.
432 Now thanne, put in thyn hand doun by my bak,
433 Seyde this man, and grope wel bihynde.
434 Bynethe my buttok there shaltow fynde
435 A thyng that I have hyd in pryvetee.
436 A! thoghte this frere, that shal go with me!
437 And doun his hand he launcheth to the clifte,
438 In hope for to fynde there a yifte.
439 And whan this sike man felte this frere
440 Aboute his tuwel grope there and heere,
441 Amydde his hand he leet the frere a fart,
442 Ther nys no capul, drawynge in a cart,
443 That myghte have lete a fart of swich a soun.
444 The frere up stirte as dooth a wood leoun, --
445 A! false cherl, quod he, for goddes bones!
446 This hastow for despit doon for the nones.
447 Thou shalt abye this fart, if that I may!
448 His meynee, whiche that herden this affray,
449 Cam lepynge in and chaced out the frere;
450 And forth he gooth, with a ful angry cheere,
451 And fette his felawe, ther as lay his stoor.
452 He looked as it were a wilde boor;
453 He grynte with his teeth, so was he wrooth.
454 A sturdy paas doun to the court he gooth,
455 Wher as ther woned a man of greet honour,
456 To whom that he was alwey confessour.
457 This worthy man was lord of that village.
458 This frere cam as he were in a rage,
459 Where as this lord sat etyng at his bord;
460 Unnethes myghte the frere speke a word,
461 Til atte laste he seyde, God yow see!
462 This lord gan looke, and seide, benedicitee!
463 What, frere john, what maner world is this?
464 I se wel that som thyng ther is amys;
465 Ye looken as the wode were ful of thevys.
466 Sit doun anon, and tel me what youre grief is,
467 And it shal been amended, if I may.
468 I have, quod he, had a despit this day,
469 God yelde yow, adoun in youre village,
470 That in this world is noon so povre a page
471 That he nolde have abhomynacioun
472 Of that I have receyved in youre toun.
473 And yet ne greveth me nothyng so soore,
474 As that this olde cherl with lokkes hoore
475 Blasphemed hath oure hooly covent eke.
476 Now, maister, quod this lord, I yow biseke, --
477 No maister, sire, quod he, but servitour,
478 Thogh I have had in scole that honour.
479 God liketh nat that -- raby -- men us calle,
480 Neither in market ne in youre large halle.
481 No fors, quod he, but tel me al youre grief.
482 Sire, quod this frere, and odious meschief
483 This day bityd is to myn ordre and me,
484 And so, per consequens, to ech degree
485 Of hooly chirche, God amende it soone!
486 Sire, quod the lord, ye woot what is to doone.
487 Distempre yow noght, ye be my confessour;
488 Ye been the salt of the erthe and the savour.
489 For goddes love, youre pacience ye holde!
490 Tel me youre grief; and anon hym tolde,
491 As ye han herd biforn, ye woot wel what.
492 The lady of the hous ay stille sat
493 Til she had herd what the frere sayde.
494 Ey, goddes mooder, quod she, blisful mayde!
495 Is ther oght elles? telle me feithfully.
496 Madame, quod he, how thynke ye herby?
497 How that me thynketh? quod she, so God me speede,
498 I seye, a cherl hath doon a cherles dede.
499 What shold I seye? God lat hym nevere thee!
500 His sike heed is ful of vanytee;
501 I holde hym in a manere frenesye.
502 Madame, quod he, by god, I shal nat lye
503 But in on oother wyse may be wreke,
504 I shal disclaundre hym over al ther I speke,
505 This false blasphemour, that charged me
506 To parte that wol nat departed be,
507 To every man yliche, with meschaunce!
508 The lord sat stille as he were in a traunce,
509 And in his herte he rolled up and doun,
510 How hadde this cherl ymaginacioun
511 To shewe swich a probleme to the frere?
512 Nevere erst er now herde I of swich mateere.
513 I trowe the devel putte it in his mynde.
514 In ars-metrike shal ther no man fynde,
515 Biforn this day, of swich a question.
516 Who sholde make a demonstracion
517 That every man sholde have yliche his part
518 As of the soun or savour of a fart?
519 O nyce, proude cherl, I shrewe his face!
520 Lo, sires, quod the lord, with harde grace!
521 Who evere herde of swich a thyng er now?
522 To every man ylike, tel me how?
523 It is an inpossible, it may nat be.
524 Ey, nyce cherl, God lete him nevere thee!
525 The rumblynge of a fart, and every soun,
526 Nis but of eir reverberacioun,
527 And evere it wasteth litel and litel awey.
528 Ther is no man kan deemen, by my fey,
529 If that it were departed equally.
530 What, lo, my cherl, lo, yet how shrewedly
531 Unto my confessour to-day he spak!
532 I holde hym certeyn a demonyak!
533 Now ete youre mete, and lat the cherl go pleye;
534 Lat hym go honge hymself a devel weye!
535 Now stood the lordes squier at the bord,
536 That karf his mete, and herde word by word
537 Of alle thynges whiche I have yow sayd.
538 My lord, quod he, be ye nat yvele apayd,
539 I koude telle, for a gowne-clooth,
540 To yow, sire frere, so ye be nat wrooth,
541 How that this fart sholde evene deled be
542 Among youre covent, if it lyked me.
543 Tel, quod the lord, and thou shalt have anon
544 A gowne-clooth, by God and by seint john!
545 My lord, quod he, whan that the weder is fair,
546 Withouten wynd or perturbynge of air,
547 Lat brynge a cartwheel heere into this halle;
548 But looke that it have his spokes alle, --
549 Twelve spokes hath a cartwheel comunly.
550 And bryng me thanne twelve freres, woot ye why?
551 For thrittene is a covent, as I gesse.
552 Youre confessour heere, for his worthynesse,
553 Shal parfoune up the nombre of his covent,
554 Thanne shal they knele doun, by oon assent,
555 And to every spokes ende, in this manere,
556 Ful sadly leye his nose shal a frere.
557 Youre noble confessour -- there God hym save! --
558 Shal holde his nose upright under the nave.
559 Thanne shal this cherl, with bely stif and toght
560 As any tabour, hyder been ybroght;
561 And sette hym on the wheel right of this cart.
562 Upon the nave, and make hym lete a fart.
563 And ye shul seen, up peril of my lyf,
564 By preeve which that is demonstratif,
565 That equally the soun of it wol wende,
566 And eke the stynk, unto the spokes ende.
567 Save that this worthy man, youre confessour,
568 By cause he is a man of greet honour,
569 Shal have the firste fruyt, as resoun is.
570 The noble usage of freres yet is this,
571 The worthy men of hem shul first be served;
572 And certeinly he hath it well disserved.
573 He hath to-day taught us so muche good
574 With prechyng in the pulpit the he stood,
575 That I may vouche sauf, I sey for me,
576 He hadde the firste smel of fartes thre;
577 And so wolde al his covent hardily,
578 He bereth hym so faire and hoolily.
579 The lord, the lady, and ech man, save the frere,
580 Seyde that Jankyn spak, in this matere,
581 As wel as Euclide dide or Ptholomee.
582 Touchynge the cherl, they seyde, subtiltee
583 And heigh wit made hym speken as he spak;
584 He nys no fool, ne no demonyak.
585 And Jankyn hath ywonne a newe gowne. --
586 My tale is doon; we been almost at towne.