Canterbury Tales and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📖

This yeoman him answered in soft speech; Brother,” quoth he, “far in the North country,<8>

Where as I hope some time I shall thee see Ere we depart I shall thee so well wiss, inform That of mine house shalt thou never miss.”

Now, brother,” quoth this Sompnour, “I you pray, Teach me, while that we ride by the way, (Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,)

Some subtilty, and tell me faithfully

For mine office how that I most may win.

And *spare not* for conscience or for sin, conceal nothing

But, as my brother, tell me how do ye.”

Now by my trothe, brother mine,” said he, As I shall tell to thee a faithful tale: My wages be full strait and eke full smale; My lord is hard to me and dangerous, niggardly And mine office is full laborious;

And therefore by extortion I live,

Forsooth I take all that men will me give.

Algate* by sleighte, or by violence, *whether From year to year I win all my dispence; I can no better tell thee faithfully.”

Now certes,” quoth this Sompnour, “so fare* I; *do I spare not to take, God it wot,

But if it be too heavy or too hot. unless

What I may get in counsel privily,

No manner conscience of that have I.

N’ere* mine extortion, I might not live, were it not for For of such japes will I not be shrive.* tricks **confessed Stomach nor conscience know I none;

I shrew* these shrifte-fathers** every one. curse *confessors Well be we met, by God and by St Jame.

But, leve brother, tell me then thy name,”

Quoth this Sompnour. Right in this meane while This yeoman gan a little for to smile.

 

“Brother,” quoth he, “wilt thou that I thee tell?

I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,

And here I ride about my purchasing,

To know where men will give me any thing.

*My purchase is th’ effect of all my rent what I can gain is my Look how thou ridest for the same intent sole revenue*

To winne good, thou reckest never how, Right so fare I, for ride will I now

Into the worlde’s ende for a prey.”

 

“Ah,” quoth this Sompnour, “benedicite! what say y’?

I weened ye were a yeoman truly. *thought Ye have a manne’s shape as well as I

Have ye then a figure determinate

In helle, where ye be in your estate?” at home “Nay, certainly,” quoth he, there have we none, But when us liketh we can take us one, Or elles make you seem* that we be shape *believe Sometime like a man, or like an ape;

Or like an angel can I ride or go;

It is no wondrous thing though it be so, A lousy juggler can deceive thee.

And pardie, yet can I more craft* than he.” *skill, cunning “Why,” quoth the Sompnour, “ride ye then or gon In sundry shapes and not always in one?”

“For we,” quoth he, “will us in such form make.

As most is able our prey for to take.”

“What maketh you to have all this labour?”

“Full many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour,”

Saide this fiend. “But all thing hath a time; The day is short and it is passed prime, And yet have I won nothing in this day; I will intend* to winning, if I may, *apply myself And not intend our thinges to declare: For, brother mine, thy wit is all too bare To understand, although I told them thee.

But for thou askest why laboure we: because

For sometimes we be Godde’s instruments And meanes to do his commandements,

When that him list, upon his creatures, In divers acts and in divers figures:

Withoute him we have no might certain, If that him list to stande thereagain. against it And sometimes, at our prayer have we leave Only the body, not the soul, to grieve: Witness on Job, whom that we did full woe, And sometimes have we might on both the two, —

This is to say, on soul and body eke,

And sometimes be we suffer’d for to seek Upon a man and do his soul unrest

And not his body, and all is for the best, When he withstandeth our temptation,

It is a cause of his salvation,

Albeit that it was not our intent

He should be safe, but that we would him hent. catch And sometimes be we servants unto man, As to the archbishop Saint Dunstan,

And to th’apostle servant eke was I.”

“Yet tell me,” quoth this Sompnour, “faithfully, Make ye you newe bodies thus alway

Of th’ elements?” The fiend answered, “Nay: Sometimes we feign, and sometimes we arise With deade bodies, in full sundry wise, And speak as reas’nably, and fair, and well, As to the Pythoness<9> did Samuel:

And yet will some men say it was not he.

I *do no force of* your divinity. set no value upon

But one thing warn I thee, I will not jape,* jest Thou wilt algates weet how we be shape: assuredly know

Thou shalt hereafterward, my brother dear, Come, where thee needeth not of me to lear. learn For thou shalt by thine own experience *Conne in a chair to rede of this sentence, learn to understand Better than Virgil, while he was alive, what I have said*

Or Dante also. <10> Now let us ride blive, briskly For I will holde company with thee,

Till it be so that thou forsake me.”

“Nay,” quoth this Sompnour, “that shall ne’er betide.

I am a yeoman, that is known full wide; My trothe will I hold, as in this case; For though thou wert the devil Satanas, My trothe will I hold to thee, my brother, As I have sworn, and each of us to other, For to be true brethren in this case,

And both we go *abouten our purchase. seeking what we Take thou thy part, what that men will thee give, may pick up*

And I shall mine, thus may we bothe live.

And if that any of us have more than other, Let him be true, and part it with his brother.”

“I grante,” quoth the devil, “by my fay.”

And with that word they rode forth their way, And right at th’ent’ring of the towne’s end, To which this Sompnour shope* him for to wend,* shaped **go They saw a cart, that charged was with hay, Which that a carter drove forth on his way.

Deep was the way, for which the carte stood: The carter smote, and cried as he were wood, mad “Heit Scot! heit Brok! what, spare ye for the stones?

The fiend (quoth he) you fetch body and bones, As farforthly* as ever ye were foal’d, *sure So muche woe as I have with you tholed. endured <11>

The devil have all, horses, and cart, and hay.”

The Sompnour said, “Here shall we have a prey,”

And near the fiend he drew, *as nought ne were, as if nothing Full privily, and rowned* in his ear: were the matter*

“Hearken, my brother, hearken, by thy faith, *whispered Hearest thou not, how that the carter saith?

Hent* it anon, for he hath giv’n it thee, seize Both hay and cart, and eke his capels three.” *horses <12>

“Nay,” quoth the devil, “God wot, never a deal,* whit It is not his intent, trust thou me well; Ask him thyself, if thou not trowest* me, believest Or elles stint a while and thou shalt see.” *stop The carter thwack’d his horses on the croup, And they began to drawen and to stoop.

“Heit now,” quoth he; “there, Jesus Christ you bless, And all his handiwork, both more and less!

That was well twight,* mine owen liart,** boy, pulled *grey<13>

I pray God save thy body, and Saint Loy!

Now is my cart out of the slough, pardie.”

“Lo, brother,” quoth the fiend, “what told I thee?

Here may ye see, mine owen deare brother, The churl spake one thing, but he thought another.

Let us go forth abouten our voyage;

Here win I nothing upon this carriage.”

 

When that they came somewhat out of the town, This Sompnour to his brother gan to rown; “Brother,” quoth he, “here wons* an old rebeck,<14> *dwells That had almost as lief to lose her neck.

As for to give a penny of her good.

I will have twelvepence, though that she be wood, mad Or I will summon her to our office;

And yet, God wot, of her know I no vice.

But for thou canst not, as in this country, Winne thy cost, take here example of me.”

This Sompnour clapped at the widow’s gate: “Come out,” he said, “thou olde very trate; trot <15>

I trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee.”

“Who clappeth?” said this wife; “benedicite, God save you, Sir, what is your sweete will?”

“I have,” quoth he, “of summons here a bill.

Up* pain of cursing, looke that thou be *upon To-morrow before our archdeacon’s knee, To answer to the court of certain things.”

“Now Lord,” quoth she, “Christ Jesus, king of kings, So wis1y* helpe me, *as I not may. surely *as I cannot*

I have been sick, and that full many a day.

I may not go so far,” quoth she, “nor ride, But I be dead, so pricketh it my side.

May I not ask a libel, Sir Sompnour,

And answer there by my procuratour

To such thing as men would appose* me?” *accuse “Yes,” quoth this Sompnour, “pay anon, let see, Twelvepence to me, and I will thee acquit.

I shall no profit have thereby but lit: little My master hath the profit and not I.

Come off, and let me ride hastily;

Give me twelvepence, I may no longer tarry.”

 

“Twelvepence!” quoth she; “now lady Sainte Mary So wisly* help me out of care and sin, *surely This wide world though that I should it win, No have I not twelvepence within my hold.

Ye know full well that I am poor and old; *Kithe your almes* upon me poor wretch.” show your charity

“Nay then,” quoth he, “the foule fiend me fetch, If I excuse thee, though thou should’st be spilt.” ruined “Alas!” quoth she, “God wot, I have no guilt.”

“Pay me,” quoth he, “or, by the sweet Saint Anne, As I will bear away thy newe pan

For debte, which thou owest me of old, —

When that thou madest thine husband cuckold, —

I paid at home for thy correction.”

“Thou liest,” quoth she, “by my salvation; Never was I ere now, widow or wife,

Summon’d unto your court in all my life; Nor never I was but of my body true.

Unto the devil rough and black of hue

Give I thy body and my pan also.”

And when the devil heard her curse so

Upon her knees, he said in this mannere; “Now, Mabily, mine owen mother dear,

Is this your will in earnest that ye say?”

“The devil,” quoth she, “so fetch him ere he dey, die And pan and all, but* he will him repent.” unless “Nay, olde stoat, that is not mine intent,” *polecat Quoth this Sompnour, “for to repente me For any thing that I have had of thee; I would I had thy smock and every cloth.”

“Now, brother,” quoth the devil, “be not wroth; Thy body and this pan be mine by right.

Thou shalt with me to helle yet tonight, Where thou shalt knowen of our privity secrets More than a master of divinity.”

 

And with that word the foule fiend him hent.