The Canterbury Tales and Other Poems E-Book

Geoffrey Chaucer

• Herausgeber: Phoemixx Classics Ebooks
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 2183

Beschreibung

The Canterbury Tales and Other Poems Geoffrey Chaucer - An oddly diverse group of twenty-nine people meet at an inn. Each of them is on a pilgrimage to a martyr's shrine in Canterbury. The Host suggests the strange bunch journey together and tell stories to pass the time. The group heads off, including a Knight, a Miller, a Wife, a Cook, a Shipman, and a Nun, among others, telling stories that range from bawdy exploits to foolish workers to the lives of saints. A classic of English literature, this unabridged version of Geoffrey Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales was first published in the early 1400s and edited into modern English by D. Laing Purves in 1879. Purves's collection of Chaucer's works also contains Troilus and Cressida and additional poems and prose.

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Geoffrey Chaucer

The Canterbury Tales and Other Poems

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THE CANTERBURY TALES

General Prologue

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote, And bathed every veyne in swich licour Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne, And smale foweles maken melodye,10 That slepen al the nyght with open ye (So priketh hem Nature in hir corages), Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende Of Engelond to Caunterbury they wende, The hooly blisful martir for to seke, That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke. Bifil that in that seson on a day,20 In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, At nyght was come into that hostelrye Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle, That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde. The chambres and the stables weren wyde, And wel we weren esed atte beste.30 And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, So hadde I spoken with hem everichon That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, And made forward erly for to ryse, To take oure wey ther as I yow devyse. But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space, Er that I ferther in this tale pace, Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun To telle yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it semed me,40 And whiche they weren, and of what degree, And eek in what array that they were inne; And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne. A KNYGHT ther was, and that a worthy man, That fro the tyme that he first bigan To riden out, he loved chivalrie, Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie. Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre, As wel in cristendom as in hethenesse,50 And evere honoured for his worthynesse; At Alisaundre he was whan it was wonne. Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne Aboven alle nacions in Pruce; In Lettow hadde he reysed and in Ruce, No Cristen man so ofte of his degree. In Gernade at the seege eek hadde he be Of Algezir, and riden in Belmarye. At Lyeys was he and at Satalye, Whan they were wonne, and in the Grete See60 At many a noble armee hadde he be. At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene, And foughten for oure feith at Tramyssene In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo. This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also Somtyme with the lord of Palatye Agayn another hethen in Turkye; And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys. And though that he were worthy, he was wys, And of his port as meeke as is a mayde.70 He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde In al his lyf unto no maner wight. He was a verray, parfit gentil knyght. But for to tellen yow of his array, His hors were goode, but he was nat gay. Of fustian he wered a gypon Al bismotered with his habergeon, For he was late ycome from his viage, And wente for to doon his pilgrymage. With hym ther was his sone, a yong SQUIER,

80 A lovyere and a lusty bacheler, With lokkes crulle as they were leyd in presse. Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthe. And he hadde been somtyme in chyvachie In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Pycardie, And born hym weel, as of so litel space, In hope to stonden in his lady grace. Embrouded was he, as it were a meede90 Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and reede. Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day; He was as fressh as is the month of May. Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde. Wel koude he sitte on hors and faire ryde. He koude songes make and wel endite, Juste and eek daunce, and weel purtreye and write. So hoote he lovede that by nyghtertale He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale. Curteis he was, lowely, and servysable,100 And carf biforn his fader at the table. A YEMAN hadde he and servantz namo At that tyme, for hym liste ride so, And he was clad in cote and hood of grene. A sheef of pecok arwes, bright and kene, Under his belt he bar ful thriftily (Wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly; His arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe), And in his hand he baar a myghty bowe. A not heed hadde he, with a broun visage.110 Of wodecraft wel koude he al the usage. Upon his arm he baar a gay bracer, And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler, And on that oother syde a gay daggere Harneised wel and sharp as point of spere; A Cristopher on his brest of silver sheene. An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of grene; A forster was he, soothly, as I gesse. Ther was also a Nonne, a PRIORESSE, That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy;120 Hire gretteste ooth was but by Seinte Loy; And she was cleped madame Eglentyne. Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne, Entuned in hir nose ful semely; And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly, After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe, For Frenssh of Parys was to hire unknowe. At mete wel ytaught was she with alle; She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, Ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe;130 Wel koude she carie a morsel and wel kepe That no drope ne fille upon hire brest. In curteisie was set ful muchel hir lest. Hir over-lippe wyped she so clene That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte. Ful semely after hir mete she raughte. And sikerly she was of greet desport, And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port, And peyned hire to countrefete cheere140 Of court, and to been estatlich of manere, And to ben holden digne of reverence. But for to speken of hire conscience, She was so charitable and so pitous She wolde wepe, if that she saugh a mous Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. Of smale houndes hadde she that she fedde With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed. But soore wepte she if oon of hem were deed, Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte;150 And al was conscience and tendre herte. Ful semyly hir wympul pynched was, Hir nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas, Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed. But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed; It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe; For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe. Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war. Of smal coral aboute hire arm she bar A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene,160 And theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene, On which ther was first write a crowned A, And after Amor vincit omnia. Another NONNE with hire hadde she, That was hir chapeleyne, and preestes thre. A MONK ther was, a fair for the maistrie, An outridere, that lovede venerie, A manly man, to been an abbot able. Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable, And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere170 Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere And eek as loude as dooth the chapel belle Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle. The reule of Seint Maure or of Seint Beneit -- By cause that it was old and somdel streit This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace, And heeld after the newe world the space. He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen, That seith that hunters ben nat hooly men, Ne that a monk, whan he is recchelees,180 Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees -- This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre. But thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre; And I seyde his opinion was good. What sholde he studie and make hymselven wood, Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure, Or swynken with his handes, and laboure, As Austyn bit? How shal the world be served? Lat Austyn have his swynk to hym reserved! Therfore he was a prikasour aright:190 Grehoundes he hadde as swift as fowel in flight; Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. I seigh his sleves purfiled at the hond With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond; And for to festne his hood under his chyn, He hadde of gold ywroght a ful curious pyn; A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was. His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas, And eek his face, as he hadde been enoynt.200 He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt; His eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed, That stemed as a forneys of a leed; His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat. Now certeinly he was a fair prelaat; He was nat pale as a forpyned goost. A fat swan loved he best of any roost. His palfrey was as broun as is a berye. A FRERE ther was, a wantowne and a merye, A lymytour, a ful solempne man.210 In alle the ordres foure is noon that kan So muchel of daliaunce and fair langage. He hadde maad ful many a mariage Of yonge wommen at his owene cost. Unto his ordre he was a noble post. Ful wel biloved and famulier was he With frankeleyns over al in his contree, And eek with worthy wommen of the toun; For he hadde power of confessioun, As seyde hymself, moore than a curat,220 For of his ordre he was licenciat. Ful swetely herde he confessioun, And plesaunt was his absolucioun: He was an esy man to yeve penaunce, Ther as he wiste to have a good pitaunce. For unto a povre ordre for to yive Is signe that a man is wel yshryve; For if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt, He wiste that a man was repentaunt; For many a man so hard is of his herte,230 He may nat wepe, althogh hym soore smerte. Therfore in stede of wepynge and preyeres Men moote yeve silver to the povre freres. His typet was ay farsed ful of knyves

And pynnes, for to yeven faire wyves. And certeinly he hadde a murye note: Wel koude he synge and pleyen on a rote; Of yeddynges he baar outrely the pris. His nekke whit was as the flour-de-lys; Therto he strong was as a champioun.240 He knew the tavernes wel in every toun And everich hostiler and tappestere Bet than a lazar or a beggestere, For unto swich a worthy man as he Acorded nat, as by his facultee, To have with sike lazars aqueyntaunce. It is nat honest; it may nat avaunce, For to deelen with no swich poraille, But al with riche and selleres of vitaille. And over al, ther as profit sholde arise,250 Curteis he was and lowely of servyse; Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous. He was the beste beggere in his hous; [And yaf a certeyn ferme for the graunt; Noon of his bretheren cam ther in his haunt;] For thogh a wydwe hadde noght a sho, So plesaunt was his "In principio," Yet wolde he have a ferthyng, er he wente. His purchas was wel bettre than his rente. And rage he koude, as it were right a whelp. In love-dayes ther koude he muchel help, For ther he was nat lyk a cloysterer260 With a thredbare cope, as is a povre scoler, But he was lyk a maister or a pope. Of double worstede was his semycope, That rounded as a belle out of the presse. Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantownesse, To make his Englissh sweete upon his tonge; And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde songe, His eyen twynkled in his heed aryght As doon the sterres in the frosty nyght. This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.270 A MARCHANT was ther with a forked berd, In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat; Upon his heed a Flaundryssh bever hat, His bootes clasped faire and fetisly. His resons he spak ful solempnely, Sownynge alwey th' encrees of his wynnyng. He wolde the see were kept for any thyng Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle. Wel koude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle. This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette:280 Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette, So estatly was he of his governaunce With his bargaynes and with his chevyssaunce. For sothe he was a worthy man with alle, But, sooth to seyn, I noot how men hym calle. A CLERK ther was of Oxenford also, That unto logyk hadde longe ygo. As leene was his hors as is a rake, And he nas nat right fat, I undertake, But looked holwe, and therto sobrely.290 Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy, For he hadde geten hym yet no benefice, Ne was so worldly for to have office. For hym was levere have at his beddes heed Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed, Of Aristotle and his philosophie Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie. But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre; But al that he myghte of his freendes hente,300 On bookes and on lernynge he it spente, And bisily gan for the soules preye Of hem that yaf hym wherwith to scoleye. Of studie took he moost cure and moost heede. Noght o word spak he moore than was neede, And that was seyd in forme and reverence, And short and quyk and ful of hy sentence; Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche, And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche. A SERGEANT OF THE LAWE, war and wys,310 That often hadde been at the Parvys, Ther was also, ful riche of excellence. Discreet he was and of greet reverence -- He semed swich, his wordes weren so wise. Justice he was ful often in assise, By patente and by pleyn commissioun. For his science and for his heigh renoun, Of fees and robes hadde he many oon.

So greet a purchasour was nowher noon: Al was fee symple to hym in effect;320 His purchasyng myghte nat been infect. Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas, And yet he semed bisier than he was. In termes hadde he caas and doomes alle That from the tyme of kyng William were falle. Therto he koude endite and make a thyng, Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng; And every statut koude he pleyn by rote. He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote, Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale;330 Of his array telle I no lenger tale. A FRANKELEYN was in his compaignye. Whit was his berd as is the dayesye; Of his complexioun he was sangwyn. Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn; To lyven in delit was evere his wone, For he was Epicurus owene sone, That heeld opinioun that pleyn delit Was verray felicitee parfit. An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;340 Seint Julian he was in his contree. His breed, his ale, was alweys after oon; A bettre envyned man was nowher noon. Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous, Of fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke; Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke, After the sondry sesons of the yeer, So chaunged he his mete and his soper. Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe,350 And many a breem and many a luce in stuwe. Wo was his cook but if his sauce were Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his geere. His table dormant in his halle alway Stood redy covered al the longe day. At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire; Ful ofte tyme he was knyght of the shire. An anlaas and a gipser al of silk Heeng at his girdel, whit as morne milk. A shirreve hadde he been, and a contour.360 Was nowher swich a worthy vavasour. AN HABERDASSHERE and a CARPENTER, A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPYCER -- And they were clothed alle in o lyveree Of a solempne and a greet fraternitee. Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was; Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel, Hire girdles and hir pouches everydeel. Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys370 To sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys. Everich, for the wisdom that he kan, Was shaply for to been an alderman. For catel hadde they ynogh and rente, And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente; And elles certeyn were they to blame. It is ful fair to been ycleped "madame," And goon to vigilies al bifore, And have a mantel roialliche ybore. A COOK they hadde with hem for the nones380 To boille the chiknes with the marybones, And poudre-marchant tart and galyngale. Wel koude he knowe a draughte of Londoun ale. He koude rooste, and sethe, and broille, and frye, Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye. But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, That on his shyne a mormal hadde he. For blankmanger, that made he with the beste. A SHIPMAN was ther, wonynge fer by weste; For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe.390 He rood upon a rouncy, as he kouthe, In a gowne of faldyng to the knee. A daggere hangynge on a laas hadde he Aboute his nekke, under his arm adoun. The hoote somer hadde maad his hewe al broun; And certeinly he was a good felawe. Ful many a draughte of wyn had he ydrawe Fro Burdeux-ward, whil that the chapman sleep. Of nyce conscience took he no keep. If that he faught and hadde the hyer hond,400 By water he sente hem hoom to every lond. But of his craft to rekene wel his tydes, His stremes, and his daungers hym bisides, His herberwe, and his moone, his lodemenage, Ther nas noon swich from Hulle to Cartage. Hardy he was and wys to undertake; With many a tempest hadde his berd been shake. He knew alle the havenes, as they were, Fro Gootlond to the cape of Fynystere, And every cryke in Britaigne and in Spayne.410 His barge ycleped was the Maudelayne. With us ther was a DOCTOUR OF PHISIK; In al this world ne was ther noon hym lik, To speke of phisik and of surgerye, For he was grounded in astronomye. He kepte his pacient a ful greet deel In houres by his magyk natureel. Wel koude he fortunen the ascendent Of his ymages for his pacient. He knew the cause of everich maladye,420 Were it of hoot, or coold, or moyste, or drye, And where they engendred, and of what humour. He was a verray, parfit praktisour: The cause yknowe, and of his harm the roote, Anon he yaf the sike man his boote. Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries To sende hym drogges and his letuaries, For ech of hem made oother for to wynne -- Hir frendshipe nas nat newe to bigynne. Wel knew he the olde Esculapius,430 And Deyscorides, and eek Rufus, Olde Ypocras, Haly, and Galyen, Serapion, Razis, and Avycen, Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn, Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn. Of his diete mesurable was he, For it was of no superfluitee, But of greet norissyng and digestible. His studie was but litel on the Bible. In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al,440 Lyned with taffata and with sendal. And yet he was but esy of dispence; He kepte that he wan in pestilence. For gold in phisik is a cordial, Therefore he lovede gold in special. A good WIF was ther OF biside BATHE, But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe. Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt. In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noon450 That to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon; And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she That she was out of alle charitee. Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground; I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed. Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and newe. Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe. She was a worthy womman al hir lyve:460 Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve, Withouten oother compaignye in youthe -- But thereof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe. And thries hadde she been at Jerusalem; She hadde passed many a straunge strem; At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne, In Galice at Seint-Jame, and at Coloigne. She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye. Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye. Upon an amblere esily she sat,470 Ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hat As brood as is a bokeler or a targe; A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large, And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe. In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe. Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce, For she koude of that art the olde daunce. A good man was ther of religioun, And was a povre PERSOUN OF A TOUN, But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk.480 He was also a lerned man, a clerk, That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche; His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche. Benygne he was, and wonder diligent, And in adversitee ful pacient, And swich he was ypreved ofte sithes. Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes, But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute, Unto his povre parisshens aboute Of his offryng and eek of his substaunce.490 He koude in litel thyng have suffisaunce. Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder, But he ne lefte nat, for reyn ne thonder, In siknesse nor in meschief to visite The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lite, Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf. This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf, That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte. Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte, And this figure he added eek therto,500 That if gold ruste, what shal iren do? For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste, No wonder is a lewed man to ruste; And shame it is, if a prest take keep, A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep. Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive, By his clennesse, how that his sheep sholde lyve. He sette nat his benefice to hyre And leet his sheep encombred in the myre And ran to Londoun unto Seinte Poules510 To seken hym a chaunterie for soules, Or with a bretherhed to been withholde; But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde, So that the wolf ne made it nat myscarie; He was a shepherde and noght a mercenarie. And though he hooly were and vertuous, He was to synful men nat despitous, Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne, But in his techyng discreet and benygne. To drawen folk to hevene by fairnesse,520 By good ensample, this was his bisynesse. But it were any persone obstinat, What so he were, of heigh or lough estat, Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys. A bettre preest I trowe that nowher noon ys. He waited after no pompe and reverence, Ne maked him a spiced conscience, But Cristes loore and his apostles twelve He taughte; but first he folwed it hymselve. With hym ther was a PLOWMAN, was his brother,530 That hadde ylad of dong ful many a fother; A trewe swynkere and a good was he, Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee. God loved he best with al his hoole herte At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte, And thanne his neighebor right as hymselve. He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve, For Cristes sake, for every povre wight, Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght. His tithes payde he ful faire and wel,540 Bothe of his propre swynk and his catel. In a tabard he rood upon a mere. Ther was also a REVE, and a MILLERE, A SOMNOUR, and a PARDONER also, A MAUNCIPLE, and myself -- ther were namo. The MILLERE was a stout carl for the nones; Ful byg he was of brawn, and eek of bones. That proved wel, for over al ther he cam, At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram. He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre;550 Ther was no dore that he nolde heve of harre, Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed. His berd as any sowe or fox was reed, And therto brood, as though it were a spade. Upon the cop right of his nose he hade A werte, and theron stood a toft of herys, Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys; His nosethirles blake were and wyde. A swerd and a bokeler bar he by his syde. His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys.560 He was a janglere and a goliardeys, And that was moost of synne and harlotries. Wel koude he stelen corn and tollen thries; And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee. A whit cote and a blew hood wered he. A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne, And therwithal he broghte us out of towne. A gentil MAUNCIPLE was ther of a temple, Of which achatours myghte take exemple For to be wise in byynge of vitaille;570 For wheither that he payde or took by taille, Algate he wayted so in his achaat That he was ay biforn and in good staat. Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace The wisdom of an heep of lerned men? Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten, That weren of lawe expert and curious, Of which ther were a duszeyne in that hous Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond580 Of any lord that is in Engelond, To make hym lyve by his propre good In honour dettelees (but if he were wood), Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire; And able for to helpen al a shire In any caas that myghte falle or happe. And yet this Manciple sette hir aller cappe. The REVE was a sclendre colerik man. His berd was shave as ny as ever he kan; His heer was by his erys ful round yshorn;590 His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn. Ful longe were his legges and ful lene, Ylyk a staf; ther was no calf ysene. Wel koude he kepe a gerner and a bynne; Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynne. Wel wiste he by the droghte and by the reyn The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn. His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayerye, His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye Was hoolly in this Reves governynge,600 And by his covenant yaf the rekenynge, Syn that his lord was twenty yeer of age. Ther koude no man brynge hym in arrerage. Ther nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyne, That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne; They were adrad of hym as of the deeth. His wonyng was ful faire upon an heeth; With grene trees yshadwed was his place. He koude bettre than his lord purchace. Ful riche he was astored pryvely.610 His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly, To yeve and lene hym of his owene good, And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood. In youthe he hadde lerned a good myster: He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter. This Reve sat upon a ful good stot That was al pomely grey and highte Scot. A long surcote of pers upon he hade, And by his syde he baar a rusty blade. Of Northfolk was this Reve of which I telle,620 Biside a toun men clepen Baldeswelle. Tukked he was as is a frere aboute, And evere he rood the hyndreste of oure route. A SOMONOUR was ther with us in that place, That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynnes face, For saucefleem he was, with eyen narwe. As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparwe, With scalled browes blake and piled berd. Of his visage children were aferd. Ther nas quyk-silver, lytarge, ne brymstoon,630 Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon, Ne oynement that wolde clense and byte, That hym myghte helpen of his whelkes white, Nor of the knobbes sittynge on his chekes. Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood; Thanne wolde he speke and crie as he were wood. And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, Thanne wolde he speke no word but Latyn. A fewe termes hadde he, two or thre,640 That he had lerned out of som decree -- No wonder is, he herde it al the day; And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay Kan clepen "Watte" as wel as kan the pope. But whoso koude in oother thyng hym grope, Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophie; Ay "Questio quid iuris" wolde he crie. He was a gentil harlot and a kynde; A bettre felawe sholde men noght fynde.

He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn650 A good felawe to have his concubyn A twelf month, and excuse hym atte fulle; Ful prively a fynch eek koude he pulle. And if he foond owher a good felawe, He wolde techen him to have noon awe In swich caas of the ercedekenes curs, But if a mannes soule were in his purs; For in his purs he sholde ypunysshed be. "Purs is the ercedekenes helle," seyde he. But wel I woot he lyed right in dede;660 Of cursyng oghte ech gilty man him drede, For curs wol slee right as assoillyng savith, And also war hym of a Significavit. In daunger hadde he at his owene gise The yonge girles of the diocise, And knew hir conseil, and was al hir reed. A gerland hadde he set upon his heed, As greet as it were for an ale-stake. A bokeleer hadde he maad hym of a cake. With hym ther rood a gentil PARDONER670 Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer, That streight was comen fro the court of Rome. Ful loude he soong "Com hider, love, to me!" This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun; Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun. This Pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex, But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex; By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde, And therwith he his shuldres overspradde; But thynne it lay, by colpons oon and oon.680 But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon, For it was trussed up in his walet. Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet; Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare. Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare. A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe. His walet, biforn hym in his lappe, Bretful of pardoun comen from Rome al hoot. A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot. No berd hadde he, ne nevere sholde have;690 As smothe it was as it were late shave. I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare. But of his craft, fro Berwyk into Ware Ne was ther swich another pardoner. For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer, Which that he seyde was Oure Lady veyl; He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl That Seint Peter hadde, whan that he wente Upon the see, til Jhesu Crist hym hente. He hadde a croys of latoun ful of stones,700 And in a glas he hadde pigges bones. But with thise relikes, whan that he fond A povre person dwellynge upon lond, Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye Than that the person gat in monthes tweye; And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes, He made the person and the peple his apes. But trewely to tellen atte laste, He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste. Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie,710 But alderbest he song an offertorie; For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe, He moste preche and wel affile his tonge To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude; Therefore he song the murierly and loude. Now have I toold you soothly, in a clause, Th' estaat, th' array, the nombre, and eek the cause Why that assembled was this compaignye In Southwerk at this gentil hostelrye That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle.720 But now is tyme to yow for to telle How that we baren us that ilke nyght, Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght; And after wol I telle of our viage And al the remenaunt of oure pilgrimage. But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye, That ye n' arette it nat my vileynye, Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere, To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere, Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely.730 For this ye knowen al so wel as I: Whoso shal telle a tale after a man, He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan Everich a word, if it be in his charge, Al speke he never so rudeliche and large, Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe, Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe. He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother; He moot as wel seye o word as another. Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ,740 And wel ye woot no vileynye is it. Eek Plato seith, whoso kan hym rede, The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede. Also I prey yow to foryeve it me, Al have I nat set folk in hir degree Heere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde. My wit is short, ye may wel understonde. Greet chiere made oure Hoost us everichon, And to the soper sette he us anon. He served us with vitaille at the beste;750 Strong was the wyn, and wel to drynke us leste. A semely man OURE HOOSTE was withalle For to been a marchal in an halle. A large man he was with eyen stepe -- A fairer burgeys was ther noon in Chepe -- Boold of his speche, and wys, and wel ytaught, And of manhod hym lakkede right naught. Eek therto he was right a myrie man; And after soper pleyen he bigan, And spak of myrthe amonges othere thynges,760 Whan that we hadde maad oure rekenynges, And seyde thus: "Now, lordynges, trewely, Ye been to me right welcome, hertely; For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignye Atones in this herberwe as is now. Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste I how. And of a myrthe I am right now bythoght, To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght. "Ye goon to Caunterbury -- God yow speede,770 The blisful martir quite yow youre meede! And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye, Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye; For trewely, confort ne myrthe is noon To ride by the weye doumb as a stoon; And therfore wol I maken yow disport, As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. And if yow liketh alle by oon assent For to stonden at my juggement, And for to werken as I shal yow seye,780 Tomorwe, whan ye riden by the weye, Now, by my fader soule that is deed, But ye be myrie, I wol yeve yow myn heed! Hoold up youre hondes, withouten moore speche." Oure conseil was nat longe for to seche. Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys, And graunted hym withouten moore avys, And bad him seye his voirdit as hym leste. "Lordynges," quod he, "now herkneth for the beste; But taak it nought, I prey yow, in desdeyn.790 This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn, That ech of yow, to shorte with oure weye, In this viage shal telle tales tweye To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so, And homward he shal tellen othere two, Of aventures that whilom han bifalle. And which of yow that bereth hym best of alle -- That is to seyn, that telleth in this caas Tales of best sentence and moost solaas -- Shal have a soper at oure aller cost800 Heere in this place, sittynge by this post, Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury. And for to make yow the moore mury, I wol myselven goodly with yow ryde, Right at myn owene cost, and be youre gyde; And whoso wole my juggement withseye Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye. And if ye vouche sauf that it be so, Tel me anon, withouten wordes mo, And I wol erly shape me therfore."810 This thyng was graunted, and oure othes swore With ful glad herte, and preyden hym also That he wolde vouche sauf for to do so, And that he wolde been oure governour, And of oure tales juge and reportour, And sette a soper at a certeyn pris, And we wol reuled been at his devys In heigh and lough; and thus by oon assent We been acorded to his juggement. And therupon the wyn was fet anon;820 We dronken, and to reste wente echon, Withouten any lenger taryynge. Amorwe, whan that day bigan to sprynge, Up roos oure Hoost, and was oure aller cok, And gadrede us togidre alle in a flok, And forth we riden a litel moore than paas Unto the Wateryng of Seint Thomas; And there oure Hoost bigan his hors areste And seyde, "Lordynges, herkneth, if yow leste. Ye woot youre foreward, and I it yow recorde.830 If even-song and morwe-song accorde, Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale. As evere mote I drynke wyn or ale, Whoso be rebel to my juggement Shal paye for al that by the wey is spent. Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twynne; He which that hath the shorteste shal bigynne. Sire Knyght," quod he, "my mayster and my lord, Now draweth cut, for that is myn accord. Cometh neer," quod he, "my lady Prioresse.840 And ye, sire Clerk, lat be youre shamefastnesse, Ne studieth noght; ley hond to, every man!" Anon to drawen every wight bigan, And shortly for to tellen as it was, Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas, The sothe is this: the cut fil to the Knyght, Of which ful blithe and glad was every wyght, And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun, By foreward and by composicioun, As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo?850 And whan this goode man saugh that it was so, As he that wys was and obedient To kepe his foreward by his free assent, He seyde, "Syn I shal bigynne the game, What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name! Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye." And with that word we ryden forth oure weye, And he bigan with right a myrie cheere His tale anon, and seyde as ye may heere.

The Knight's Tale

Whilom, as olde stories tellen us,860 Ther was a duc that highte Theseus; Of Atthenes he was lord and governour, And in his tyme swich a conquerour That gretter was ther noon under the sonne. Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne; What with his wysdom and his chivalrie, He conquered al the regne of Femenye, That whilom was ycleped Scithia, And weddede the queene Ypolita, And broghte hire hoom with hym in his contree870 With muchel glorie and greet solempnytee, And eek hir yonge suster Emelye. And thus with victorie and with melodye Lete I this noble duc to Atthenes ryde, And al his hoost in armes hym bisyde. And certes, if it nere to long to heere, I wolde have toold yow fully the manere How wonnen was the regne of Femenye By Theseus and by his chivalrye; And of the grete bataille for the nones880 Bitwixen Atthenes and Amazones; And how asseged was Ypolita, The faire, hardy queene of Scithia; And of the feste that was at hir weddynge, And of the tempest at hir hoom-comynge; But al that thyng I moot as now forbere. I have, God woot, a large feeld to ere, And wayke been the oxen in my plough. The remenant of the tale is long ynough. I wol nat letten eek noon of this route;890 Lat every felawe telle his tale aboute, And lat se now who shal the soper wynne; And ther I lefte, I wol ayeyn bigynne. This duc, of whom I make mencioun, Whan he was come almoost unto the toun, In al his wele and in his mooste pride, He was war, as he caste his eye aside, Where that ther kneled in the heighe weye A compaignye of ladyes, tweye and tweye, Ech after oother clad in clothes blake;900 But swich a cry and swich a wo they make That in this world nys creature lyvynge That herde swich another waymentynge; And of this cry they nolde nevere stenten Til they the reynes of his brydel henten. "What folk been ye, that at myn hom-comynge Perturben so my feste with criynge?" Quod Theseus. "Have ye so greet envye Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crye? Or who hath yow mysboden or offended?910 And telleth me if it may been amended, And why that ye been clothed thus in blak." The eldeste lady of hem alle spak, Whan she hadde swowned with a deedly cheere, That it was routhe for to seen and heere; She seyde, "Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven Victorie, and as a conqueror to lyven, Nat greveth us youre glorie and youre honour, But we biseken mercy and socour. Have mercy on oure wo and oure distresse!920 Som drope of pitee, thurgh thy gentillesse, Upon us wrecched wommen lat thou falle, For, certes, lord, ther is noon of us alle That she ne hath been a duchesse or a queene. Now be we caytyves, as it is wel seene, Thanked be Fortune and hire false wheel, That noon estaat assureth to be weel. And certes, lord, to abyden youre presence, Heere in this temple of the goddesse Clemence We han ben waitynge al this fourtenyght.930 Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy myght. "I, wrecche, which that wepe and wayle thus, Was whilom wyf to kyng Cappaneus, That starf at Thebes -- cursed be that day! -- And alle we that been in this array And maken al this lamentacioun, We losten alle oure housbondes at that toun, Whil that the seege theraboute lay. And yet now the olde Creon -- weylaway! -- That lord is now of Thebes the citee,940 Fulfild of ire and of iniquitee, He, for despit and for his tirannye, To do the dede bodyes vileynye Of alle oure lordes whiche that been yslawe, Hath alle the bodyes on an heep ydrawe, And wol nat suffren hem, by noon assent, Neither to been yburyed nor ybrent, But maketh houndes ete hem in despit." And with that word, withouten moore respit, They fillen gruf and criden pitously,950 "Have on us wrecched wommen som mercy, And lat oure sorwe synken in thyn herte." This gentil duc doun from his courser sterte With herte pitous, whan he herde hem speke. Hym thoughte that his herte wolde breke, Whan he saugh hem so pitous and so maat, That whilom weren of so greet estaat; And in his armes he hem alle up hente, And hem conforteth in ful good entente, And swoor his ooth, as he was trewe knyght,960 He wolde doon so ferforthly his myght Upon the tiraunt Creon hem to wreke That al the peple of Grece sholde speke How Creon was of Theseus yserved As he that hadde his deeth ful wel deserved. And right anoon, withouten moore abood, His baner he desplayeth, and forth rood To Thebes-ward, and al his hoost biside. No neer Atthenes wolde he go ne ride, Ne take his ese fully half a day,970 But onward on his wey that nyght he lay, And sente anon Ypolita the queene, And Emelye, hir yonge suster sheene, Unto the toun of Atthenes to dwelle, And forth he rit; ther is namoore to telle. The rede statue of Mars, with spere and targe, So shyneth in his white baner large That alle the feeldes glyteren up and doun; And by his baner born is his penoun Of gold ful riche, in which ther was ybete

980 The Mynotaur, which that he wan in Crete. Thus rit this duc, thus rit this conquerour, And in his hoost of chivalrie the flour, Til that he cam to Thebes and alighte Faire in a feeld, ther as he thoughte to fighte. But shortly for to speken of this thyng, With Creon, which that was of Thebes kyng, He faught, and slough hym manly as a knyght In pleyn bataille, and putte the folk to flyght; And by assaut he wan the citee after,990 And rente adoun bothe wall and sparre and rafter; And to the ladyes he restored agayn The bones of hir freendes that were slayn, To doon obsequies, as was tho the gyse. But it were al to longe for to devyse The grete clamour and the waymentynge That the ladyes made at the brennynge Of the bodies, and the grete honour That Theseus, the noble conquerour, Dooth to the ladyes, whan they from hym wente;1000 But shortly for to telle is myn entente. Whan that this worthy duc, this Theseus, Hath Creon slayn and wonne Thebes thus, Stille in that feeld he took al nyght his reste, And dide with al the contree as hym leste. To ransake in the taas of bodyes dede, Hem for to strepe of harneys and of wede, The pilours diden bisynesse and cure After the bataille and disconfiture. And so bifel that in the taas they founde,1010 Thurgh-girt with many a grevous blody wounde, Two yonge knyghtes liggynge by and by, Bothe in oon armes, wroght ful richely, Of whiche two Arcita highte that oon, And that oother knyght highte Palamon. Nat fully quyke, ne fully dede they were, But by hir cote-armures and by hir gere The heraudes knewe hem best in special As they that weren of the blood roial Of Thebes, and of sustren two yborn.1020 Out of the taas the pilours han hem torn, And han hem caried softe unto the tente Of Theseus; and he ful soone hem sente To Atthenes, to dwellen in prisoun Perpetuelly -- he nolde no raunsoun. And whan this worthy duc hath thus ydon, He took his hoost, and hoom he rit anon With laurer crowned as a conquerour; And ther he lyveth in joye and in honour Terme of his lyf; what nedeth wordes mo?1030 And in a tour, in angwissh and in wo, This Palamon and his felawe Arcite For everemoore; ther may no gold hem quite. This passeth yeer by yeer and day by day, Till it fil ones, in a morwe of May, That Emelye, that fairer was to sene Than is the lylie upon his stalke grene, And fressher than the May with floures newe -- For with the rose colour stroof hire hewe, I noot which was the fyner of hem two --1040 Er it were day, as was hir wone to do, She was arisen and al redy dight, For May wole have no slogardie anyght. The sesoun priketh every gentil herte, And maketh it out of his slep to sterte, And seith "Arys, and do thyn observaunce." This maked Emelye have remembraunce To doon honour to May, and for to ryse. Yclothed was she fressh, for to devyse: Hir yelow heer was broyded in a tresse1050 Bihynde hir bak, a yerde long, I gesse. And in the gardyn, at the sonne upriste, She walketh up and doun, and as hire liste She gadereth floures, party white and rede, To make a subtil gerland for hire hede; And as an aungel hevenysshly she soong. The grete tour, that was so thikke and stroong, Which of the castel was the chief dongeoun (Ther as the knyghtes weren in prisoun Of which I tolde yow and tellen shal),1060 Was evene joynant to the gardyn wal Ther as this Emelye hadde hir pleyynge. Bright was the sonne and cleer that morwenynge, And Palamoun, this woful prisoner, As was his wone, by leve of his gayler, Was risen and romed in a chambre an heigh, In which he al the noble citee seigh, And eek the gardyn, ful of braunches grene, Ther as this fresshe Emelye the shene Was in hire walk, and romed up and doun.1070 This sorweful prisoner, this Palamoun, Goth in the chambre romynge to and fro And to hymself compleynynge of his wo. That he was born, ful ofte he seyde, "allas!" And so bifel, by aventure or cas, That thurgh a wyndow, thikke of many a barre Of iren greet and square as any sparre, He cast his eye upon Emelya, And therwithal he bleynte and cride, "A!" As though he stongen were unto the herte.1080 And with that cry Arcite anon up sterte And seyde, "Cosyn myn, what eyleth thee, That art so pale and deedly on to see? Why cridestow? Who hath thee doon offence? For Goddes love, taak al in pacience Oure prisoun, for it may noon oother be. Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee. Som wikke aspect or disposicioun Of Saturne, by som constellacioun, Hath yeven us this, although we hadde it sworn;1090 So stood the hevene whan that we were born. We moste endure it; this is the short and playn." This Palamon answerde and seyde agayn, "Cosyn, for sothe, of this opinioun Thow hast a veyn ymaginacioun. This prison caused me nat for to crye, But I was hurt right now thurghout myn ye Into myn herte, that wol my bane be. The fairnesse of that lady that I see Yond in the gardyn romen to and fro1100 Is cause of al my criyng and my wo. I noot wher she be womman or goddesse, But Venus is it soothly, as I gesse." And therwithal on knees doun he fil, And seyde, "Venus, if it be thy wil Yow in this gardyn thus to transfigure Bifore me, sorweful, wrecched creature, Out of this prisoun help that we may scapen. And if so be my destynee be shapen By eterne word to dyen in prisoun,1110 Of oure lynage have som compassioun, That is so lowe ybroght by tirannye." And with that word Arcite gan espye Wher as this lady romed to and fro, And with that sighte hir beautee hurte hym so, That, if that Palamon was wounded sore, Arcite is hurt as muche as he, or moore. And with a sigh he seyde pitously, "The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly Of hire that rometh in the yonder place;1120 And but I have hir mercy and hir grace, That I may seen hire atte leeste weye, I nam but deed; ther nis namoore to seye." This Palamon, whan he tho wordes herde, Dispitously he looked and answerde, "Wheither seistow this in ernest or in pley?" "Nay," quod Arcite, "in ernest, by my fey! God helpe me so, me list ful yvele pleye." This Palamon gan knytte his browes tweye. "It nere," quod he, "to thee no greet honour1130 For to be fals, ne for to be traitour To me, that am thy cosyn and thy brother Ysworn ful depe, and ech of us til oother, That nevere, for to dyen in the peyne, Til that the deeth departe shal us tweyne, Neither of us in love to hyndre oother, Ne in noon oother cas, my leeve brother, But that thou sholdest trewely forthren me In every cas, as I shal forthren thee -- This was thyn ooth, and myn also, certeyn;1140 I woot right wel, thou darst it nat withseyn. Thus artow of my conseil, out of doute, And now thow woldest falsly been aboute To love my lady, whom I love and serve, And evere shal til that myn herte sterve. Nay, certes, false Arcite, thow shalt nat so. I loved hire first, and tolde thee my wo As to my conseil and my brother sworn To forthre me, as I have toold biforn. For which thou art ybounden as a knyght1150 To helpen me, if it lay in thy myght, Or elles artow fals, I dar wel seyn." This Arcite ful proudly spak ageyn: "Thow shalt," quod he, "be rather fals than I; And thou art fals, I telle thee outrely, For paramour I loved hire first er thow. What wiltow seyen? Thou woost nat yet now Wheither she be a womman or goddesse! Thyn is affeccioun of hoolynesse, And myn is love as to a creature;1160 For which I tolde thee myn aventure As to my cosyn and my brother sworn. I pose that thow lovedest hire biforn; Wostow nat wel the olde clerkes sawe, That `who shal yeve a lovere any lawe?' Love is a gretter lawe, by my pan, Than may be yeve to any erthely man; And therfore positif lawe and swich decree Is broken al day for love in ech degree. A man moot nedes love, maugree his heed;1170 He may nat fleen it, thogh he sholde be deed, Al be she mayde, or wydwe, or elles wyf. And eek it is nat likly al thy lyf To stonden in hir grace; namoore shal I; For wel thou woost thyselven, verraily, That thou and I be dampned to prisoun Perpetuelly; us gayneth no raunsoun. We stryve as dide the houndes for the boon; They foughte al day, and yet hir part was noon. Ther cam a kyte, whil that they were so wrothe,1180 And baar awey the boon bitwixe hem bothe. And therfore, at the kynges court, my brother, Ech man for hymself, ther is noon oother. Love, if thee list, for I love and ay shal; And soothly, leeve brother, this is al. Heere in this prisoun moote we endure, And everich of us take his aventure." Greet was the strif and long bitwix hem tweye, If that I hadde leyser for to seye; But to th' effect. It happed on a day,1190 To telle it yow as shortly as I may, A worthy duc that highte Perotheus, That felawe was unto duc Theseus Syn thilke day that they were children lite, Was come to Atthenes his felawe to visite, And for to pleye as he was wont to do; For in this world he loved no man so, And he loved hym als tendrely agayn. So wel they lovede, as olde bookes sayn, That whan that oon was deed, soothly to telle,1200 His felawe wente and soughte hym doun in helle -- But of that storie list me nat to write. Duc Perotheus loved wel Arcite, And hadde hym knowe at Thebes yeer by yere, And finally at requeste and preyere Of Perotheus, withouten any raunsoun, Duc Theseus hym leet out of prisoun Frely to goon wher that hym liste over al, In swich a gyse as I you tellen shal. This was the forward, pleynly for t' endite,1210 Bitwixen Theseus and hym Arcite: That if so were that Arcite were yfounde Evere in his lif, by day or nyght, oo stounde In any contree of this Theseus, And he were caught, it was acorded thus, That with a swerd he sholde lese his heed. Ther nas noon oother remedie ne reed; But taketh his leve, and homward he him spedde. Lat hym be war! His nekke lith to wedde. How greet a sorwe suffreth now Arcite!1220 The deeth he feeleth thurgh his herte smyte; He wepeth, wayleth, crieth pitously; To sleen hymself he waiteth prively. He seyde, "Allas that day that I was born! Now is my prisoun worse than biforn; Now is me shape eternally to dwelle Noght in purgatorie, but in helle. Allas, that evere knew I Perotheus! For elles hadde I dwelled with Theseus, Yfetered in his prisoun everemo.1230 Thanne hadde I been in blisse and nat in wo. Oonly the sighte of hire whom that I serve, Though that I nevere hir grace may deserve, Wolde han suffised right ynough for me. O deere cosyn Palamon," quod he, "Thyn is the victorie of this aventure. Ful blisfully in prison maistow dure -- In prison? Certes nay, but in paradys! Wel hath Fortune yturned thee the dys, That hast the sighte of hire, and I th' absence.1240 For possible is, syn thou hast hire presence, And art a knyght, a worthy and an able, That by som cas, syn Fortune is chaungeable, Thow maist to thy desir somtyme atteyne. But I, that am exiled and bareyne Of alle grace, and in so greet dispeir That ther nys erthe, water, fir, ne eir, Ne creature that of hem maked is, That may me helpe or doon confort in this, Wel oughte I sterve in wanhope and distresse.1250 Farwel my lif, my lust, and my gladnesse! "Allas, why pleynen folk so in commune On purveiaunce of God, or of Fortune, That yeveth hem ful ofte in many a gyse Wel bettre than they kan hemself devyse? Som man desireth for to han richesse, That cause is of his mordre or greet siknesse; And som man wolde out of his prisoun fayn, That in his hous is of his meynee slayn. Infinite harmes been in this mateere.1260 We witen nat what thing we preyen heere; We faren as he that dronke is as a mous. A dronke man woot wel he hath an hous, But he noot which the righte wey is thider, And to a dronke man the wey is slider. And certes, in this world so faren we; We seken faste after felicitee, But we goon wrong ful often, trewely. Thus may we seyen alle, and namely I, That wende and hadde a greet opinioun1270 That if I myghte escapen from prisoun, Thanne hadde I been in joye and parfit heele, Ther now I am exiled fro my wele. Syn that I may nat seen you, Emelye, I nam but deed; ther nys no remedye." Upon that oother syde Palamon, Whan that he wiste Arcite was agon, Swich sorwe he maketh that the grete tour Resouneth of his youlyng and clamour. The pure fettres on his shynes grete1280 Weren of his bittre, salte teeres wete. "Allas," quod he, "Arcita, cosyn myn, Of al oure strif, God woot, the fruyt is thyn. Thow walkest now in Thebes at thy large, And of my wo thow yevest litel charge. Thou mayst, syn thou hast wisdom and manhede, Assemblen alle the folk of oure kynrede,