|
ProloguePart II
Part II
A Miller and a Reeve were also there,
A Summoner, Manciple, and Pardoner,
And these, beside myself, made all there were.
The Miller, big alike of bone and muscle,
Was a stout fellow, fit for any tussle,
And proved so, winning, everywhere he went,
The prize ram in the wrestling tournament.
He was thick-shouldered, knotty, broad and tough;
There was no door but he could tear it off
Its hasps, or break it, running, with his head.
His beard as any sow or fox was red,
And broad in shape as if it were a spade,
And at his nose`s very tip displayed
There sat a wart, on which a tuft of hairs
Rose like the bristles on a red sow`s ears;
The nostrils underneath were black and wide.
He bore a sword and buckler at his side.
Broad gaped his mouth as some great furnace door.
He would go babbling boastfully, or roar
Jests full of sin and vile scurrility.
He stole, and multiplied his toll by three,
Yet had a golden thumb, as God is true!
He wore a white coat and a hood of blue.
Upon the bagpipes he could blow a ditty,
And piped us out that morning from the city.
There was a Manciple from an inn of court,
And many a buyer might to him resort
To mark a steward`s life the way he led it.
For whether he chose to pay or take on credit,
Always he schemed so well and carefully
That first in stock and well-prepared was he.
Now is not that a gift of God indeed,
That one unlettered man should so exceed
The wisdom of a group of learned men?
For he had masters more than three times ten,
Expert in law and diligent as well,
Whereof a dozen in the house did dwell
Fit stewards for the land and revenues
Of any lord in England ye might choose,
To make him live upon the rents he had,
Debt-free with honor, if he were not mad,
Or live as plainly as he might desire;
And able to administer a shire
In all emergencies that might befall,
And yet this Manciple would fool them all.
Slender and choleric the Reeve appeared;
As close as ever he could he shaved his beard;
Around his ears the hair was closely shorn,
And docked on top, the way a priest`s is worn;
His legs were long and lean, with no more calf
Than ye would find upon a walking staff.
Well could he keep a garner and a bin;
There was no auditor could do him in.
And he could estimate by drought and rain
What he would get from seed, and how much grain.
The horses, swine, and cows his lord possessed,
Stock, dairy, poultry, sheep, and all the rest -
Of all such things this Reeve had full control,
And made report by contract on the whole,
Because his lord had yet but twenty years.
No man there was could find him in arrears.
No bailiff, herd or hind but he could tell
Their shifts and trickeries-he knew them well;
These fellows feared him as they feared the death.
His dwelling stood full fair upon a heath;
Green trees made shadow there on all the sward.
He picked up money better than his lord,
Rich were the hidden stores he called his own.
And he could please his master with a loan
That came from what were justly his own goods,
Get thanks, and also get some coats and hoods!
In youth he had applied himself with care
To learn a trade; he was a carpenter.
This Reeve upon a stallion had installed him;
He was a dapple gray and Scot he called him.
A sky-blue surcoat good of length he wore,
And by his side a rusty blade he bore;
From Norfolk came this Reeve of whom I tell,
Close to a town that men call Baldeswell.
Like to a friar`s his dress was tucked about,
And ever he rode the hindmost of our rout.
There was a Summoner with us in that place,
That had a fiery-red cherubic face,
With pimples, and his eyes were small and narrow;
As hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow;
Black scabby brows he had, and scraggly beard;
His was a face that all the children feared.
No brimstone, borax, mercury, ceruse,
White lead, or cream of tartar was of use,
Or any ointment that would cleanse or bite,
To rid him of his little pimples white,
Or of the knobs that sat upon his cheeks.
Garlic he loved, and onions, too, and leeks,
And wine as red as blood and wondrous strong.
Then like a madman would he shout ere long,
And when the wine within him held its sway,
Then not a word but Latin would he say.
He had some phrases, only two or three,
Such things as he had learned from some decree -
No wonder, for he heard it all the day;
Besides, ye know full well how any jay
Can cry his "Wat!" as well as the Pope can.
But in some other matter probe the man,
Then he had spent all his philosophy:
And "Questio quid juris" would he cry!
He was a decent rascal and a kind;
A better fellow nowhere could ye find.
Let any man give him a quart of wine,
He might a twelve month have a concubine
Unscathed. But let him catch some fool in sin
And he would slyly fleece him to the skin.
And if he made a comrade anywhere,
Then would he teach him not to have a care
In such a case for the archdeacon`s curse -
Unless, indeed, his soul were in his purse,
For in his purse his punishment should be.
"Your purse - that`s the archdeacon`s hell!" said he.
But here I hold it was a lie he said;
Let guilty men of curses be in dread -
They slay the soul as absolutions save it;
Also he should beware a significavit.
All the young people in the diocese
The man could frighten or could leave at peace,
Their secrets knew, and was their counsellor,
A monstrous garland on his head he wore,
That might have hung upon an alehouse stake.
He had made himself a buckler of a cake.
The Summoner brought a noble Pardoner
Of Rouncyvalle, his fellow traveller
And crony, lately from the court at Rome.
Loudly he sang, "Come hither, love, O come!"
The Summoner joined him with a mighty bass
That like a trumpet boomed about the place.
This Pardoner had hair yellow as wax,
But smooth it hung, as hangs a hank of flax,
And down in strings about his neck it fell
And all about his shoulders spread as well;
Yet thin in wisps it lay there, one by one.
But hood, for jollity, the man would none,
Safe in his wallet it was packed away;
He thought he kept the fashion of the day;
Hair loose, save for his cap, his head was bared.
His bulging eyeballs like a rabbit`s glared.
He had a vernicle sewed on his cap.
His wallet lay before him in his lap,
Brim full of pardons piping hot from Rome.
As small as any goat`s his voice would come,
Yet no beard had he nor would ever have,
But all his face shone smooth as from a shave;
I think he was a gelding or a mare.
But at his trade, from Berwick unto Ware
There was no pardoner could go his pace.
For in his bag he kept a pillow-case
That was, he said, our Blessed Lady`s veil;
He claimed to own the fragment of the sail
That Peter had the time he walked the sea
And Jesu saved him in His clemency.
He had a cross of latten set with stones,
And in a glass a handful of pig`s bones.
But with these relics when he had in hand
Some humble parson dwelling in the land,
In one day he could get more revenue
Than would the parson in a month or two.
And thus with tricks and artful flattery
He fooled both flock and parson thoroughly.
But let us say, to make the truth less drastic,
In church he was a fine ecclesiastic;
Well could he read a lesson or a story,
But best of all he sang an offertory;
For well he knew that when the song was sung
Then he must preach, and smoothly file his tongue
To win his heap of silver from the crowd -
Therefore he sang so merrily and loud.
Now in few words I have rehearsed for you
Number, array, and rank, and told you too
Wherefore they came to make a company
In Southwark, at this noble hostelry,
The Tabard, standing close beside the Bell.
But now the time is come when I should tell
Of how we bore ourselves that night when we
Had all alighted at that hostelry;
Then shall I say what on the road befell,
And all else of our pilgrimage as well.
Bur first I pray that in your courtesy
Ye will not deem it my vulgarity
If I am wholly frank in my narration
Both of their manners and their conversation,
And give their words exactly as they fell;
For this I know - and ye must know as well -
That whoso tells a tale after a man
He must repeat as closely as he can
What has been said, and every word include,
Though much of what he writes be broad and rude;
Else must he make the tale he tells untrue,
Invent, or shape the words of it anew.
None may he spare, not though it be his brother,
Nor slight one word more than he does another.
For Christ himself speaks plain in holy writ;
Ye know well there is nothing base in it.
And Plato says, to any that can read,
The words must be the cousin of the deed.
Also I pray that ye will pardon me
That I have nowise set in their degree
The people in this tale, as they should stand;
I have but scanty wit at my command.
Great cheer our good Host made us every one,
And straightway to the supper set us down,
And choicest of his food before us placed;
Strong was the wine and goodly to our taste.
Our Host, a seemly man, was fit withal
To be a marshal in a banquet hall,
For he was large, with eyes that brightly shone:
In Cheapside was no fairer burgess known.
Bold of his speech he was, wise and well-taught;
In short, in ways of manhood lacked for naught.
Also he was a gladsome, merry man,
And when the meal was ended he began
To jest and speak of mirth with other things
(When we had settled all our reckonings),
And thus he said: "Lordings, for certainty
Ye have been welcome here and heartily;
For on my word, if I shall tell you true,
So merry a company I never knew
This year together in my house as now.
Fain would I please you did I know but how.
But wait - I have bethought me of a way
To give you mirth, and ye shall nothing pay.
Ye go to Canterbury - may God speed you!
With good reward the blessed martyr heed you!
And well I know that, as ye go along
Ye shall tell tales, or turn to play and song,
For truly joy or comfort is there none
To ride along the road dumb as a stone;
And therefore I will fashion you some sport
To fill your way with pleasure of a sort.
And now if, one and all, it likes you well
To take my judgment as acceptable,
And each to do his part as I shall say,
Tomorrow, as we ride along the way,
Then by the soul of my father that is dead,
Ye shall be merry, or I will give my head!
Up with your hands now, and no more of speech!"
Agreement took us little time to reach.
We saw no reason for an argument,
But gave at once and fully our consent,
And bade him shape his verdict as he chose.
"Lordings," quoth he, "hear now what I propose,
But take it not, I pray you, in disdain;
This is the point, to speak both brief and plain:
Each one, to make your travelling go well,
Two tales upon this pilgrimage shall tell -
Going to Canterbury. And each of you
Journeying home shall tell another two,
Of happenings that long ago befell.
And he of us that best his tales shall tell -
That is, that telleth tales which are the best
In profit and in pleasant interest -
Shall have a supper (we to pay the cost),
Here in this place, sitting beside this post,
When we are come again from Canterbury.
And with design to make you the more merry
Myself along with you will gladly ride,
All at my own expense, and be your guide.
And whoso dares my judgment to withsay
Shall pay what we may spend along the way.
And if ye grant the matter shall be so,
Tell me without more words, that I may go
And quickly shape my plans to suit your need."
And we assented, and by oath agreed
Gladly, and also prayed our Host that he
Would pledge to give his service faithfully -
That he would be our governor, and hold
In mind and judge for us the tales we told,
And set a supper at a certain price,
We to be ruled in all by his device,
In things both great and small. So to a man
We gave our full agreement to his plan.
And then the wine was fetched, and every guest
Drank of it straightway, and we went to rest,
And there was nothing further of delay.
And on the morn, with brightening of day,
Up rose our Host, and busily played the cock,
And gathered us together in a flock,
And forth we rode then at an easy pace
Until we reached St. Thomas` Watering Place.
And there our Host pulled up and turned his head;
"Now, Lordings, hearken me again," he said;
"Here will I call your pact to memory.
If even-song and morning-song agree,
Let us see now who first begins his tale!
As I may ever drink of wine or ale
Whoso rebels at anything I say
Shall stand for all we spend along the way.
Now draw your lots before we take us hence,
And he that draws the shortest shall commence.
Sire Knight," he said, "my master and my lord,
Draw now your lot, for here ye have my word.
Come near," quoth he, "my lady Prioress,
And ye, sir Clerk, have done with bashfulness!
No studying here! Fall to now, every man!"
Then each at once to draw his lot began,
And briefly, as to how the matter went,
Whether it were by chance or accident,
The truth is this - the lot fell to the Knight;
And all were blithe and there was much delight.
And now in reason he could hardly fail
According to the pact, to tell his tale,
As ye have heard - what more is there to say?
And when this good man saw how matters lay,
As one resolved in sense and courtesy,
His compact made, to keep it cheerfully,
He said: "Since it is I begin the game,
Come, let the cut be welcome, in God`s name!
Now let us ride, and hearken what I say."
And with that word we went upon our way,
And all in merry mood this knight began
To tell his tale, and thus the story ran.
Here Ends The Prologue Of This Book;
And Here Begins The First Tale,
Which Is
|
