Ne · Oxford, Bodleian Library, New College MS 314
Canterbury Tales Project.
talesofcanterbury.org/GP/xml/transcripts/Ne/
[9r]
Forto be wise in byinge of vitail
For wheþir he paide or took be tail
Algate he waitid so on his acate
That he was ay before ⁊and in good state
Now is nat þat of god afair grace
That such a lewd mannys wit shal pace
The wisdom of an heep of lerned men
Of maistris hadde he mo þan thries ten
That were of lawe expert and corious
Of which þer were a dosen in that hous
Worthi to be stuardis of rente and londe
Of eny lord þat is in engelond
To make him lyve be his owen good
In honour detles but he were wood
Othir lyue scarseli as him list desire
And for to helpe al þe shire
In ony cause þat myȝte falle or happe
And þis Mancipil . set al her cappe
A Reve þer was . A slendir colerik man
His berd is shaue as nygh as he can
His heris were be his eris rounde I shore
His top was dockid lik a prest before
Ful longe were his leggis and ful lene
Lik a staf þer nys no calf I sene
Wel coude he kepe a garner and A bynne
Ther was non auditour coude of him wynne
Wel wiste he be þe drouȝte and be þe Rayn
The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn
His lordis sheep his neet and his deirie
His swyne his hors . his stoor and his pultrie
Was hoolly in þis Revys gouernynge
And bi his covenaunt yaf þe rekenynge
Seth his lord was xxᵗⁱ . yeer of age
Ther coude noman brynge him in rerage
Þer nas bailli ne noon oþer hyne
Þat coude his sleyȝte or his couyne
They were of him a drad as of þe deth
His wonynge was fair vp on an heth
With grene treis shadowed was his place
He coude better þanne his lord purchace
Ful riche he was astored pryuely
His lord he coude please discreetli
To yeue ayen to him of his owen good
And haue þank ⁊and yet acote ⁊and an hood
In youthe he hadde lerned agood mystere
He was a wel good wriȝt a Carpentere
This Reve sat vpon a wel good stot
That was al pomel gray ⁊and hiȝte scot
A long surcote of Perce vp on him he hadde
And bi his side . he baar a rusty bladde
Of Norfolk was þis Reve of which I telle
Be side a toun men calle Baldiswelle
Tuckid he was as is a frere aboute
And euer he rood þe hynderest of þe Rowte
Asompnour with vs was in þat place
That hadde a reed cherubyn face
For sawsfleme he was with yen narow
Hoot he was and likerous as a sparow
With blake browes skallid ⁊and piled berd
Of his visage children were a ferd
Ther nas quyc siluer . litarge ne brimstone
Borace ceruze ne oile of tartir none
Ne oynement þat ichith or bite
That myȝte helpe of his welkis white
Ne of his knobbis sittynge in his chekis
Well loued he oynons garleek and lekis
And forto drynke reed wyne as red as blood
Thanne wolde he speke ⁊and crie as he wer wood
And whanne he hadde wel dronke þe wyn
Thanne wolde he speke no word but latyn
Afewe termes hadde he . two . or thre
That he hadde lerned of sum man of degre
No wondir is . herde he it al þe day
That eke ye knowe wel þat a Iay
Can clepe watte as wel as þe Pope
But who coude him in oþer þyngis grope
Thouȝ he spent al his philosofie
A questio quid queris wolde he crie
He was a gentil harlot ⁊and a kynde
A bettir felow sholde no man fynde
He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn
A good felow to haue his concubyn
A twelf monthe . ⁊and excuse him at þe fulle
Ful pryueli a fynch eke coude he pulle
And if he fond owher a good felawe
He wolde teche him anon to haue awe
In such caas . of þe Archedekenes curs
But yf mannys soule were in his purs
For in his purs he sholde I pynchid be
Purs is þe Archedekenes hele saide he
But wel I woot . he lied in dede
Of cursynge owght ech man to drede
For cursinge wil sle riȝt as soilynge saveth
And also ware him of significauit
In daunger hadde he at his owen gise
The yonge girlis of þe diocyse
And knew of hir counsel ⁊and was of her rede
A garlond he hadde set vp on his hede
As greet as it were an Alestake
A bokeler hadde he maad him of A Cake
With . him þer rood a gentil pardoner
Of Runcyuale his frend ⁊and his comper
That streyȝt was come fro þe Pope of Rome
Ful lowde he song com hider loue grom
This sompnour baar to him a stif burdoıı̄un
Was neuer trompe of half so greet A soun
This pardoner hadde yeer as yelow as wex
And smothe it hyng as doth a strike of flex
Bi ownsis . hyng his lockis þat he hadde
And þere with his sholdris over spradde
But þanne it lay be Culpons . one and one
An hood for cold wered he none
For it was trussed vp on his walet
Him thouȝte he rood vp on þe newe get
Disshevill saue his cappe he rood albare
Such glarynge yen hadde he as hath an hare
His walet beforn him in his lappe
A vernacle hadde he sowid vp on his cappe
Bred ful of pardou com fro Rome al hoot
A vois he hadde as smal as hath a goot
No berd hadde he ne neuer sholde haue
As moche was it as it were newe shave
I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare
But of his craft from Berwik vnto Ware
Ne was þer such a pardoner
For in his male he hadde A pilow beer
Whiche þat he saide was our ladies veill
He saide he hadde a gobet of þe seill
That saint Petir hadde when þᵗat he went
Vp on the se til Iesus crist him hent
He hadde a cros of laton ful of stones
And in a glas he hadde piggis bones
But wᵗith thise reliques whan þᵗat he fond
A poer ꝑperson dwellynge vp on lond
Vp on a day he gat him more mone
Than þe person gat in monethis thre
And þus hath he feyned flateriez ⁊and Iapis
He made þe parson ⁊and þe pepill his apis
But trewli to telle at þe last
He was in chirche an noble ecclesiast
Well coude he rede a lesson or a story
But alderbest he song an Innaatory
For wel he wiste whan þᵗat song was sunge
He moste preche ⁊and file awhile his tunge
To wynne siluer as he wel can .
Therfore he song þe merier than
NOw haue I tolde yow shortly in a clause
Þe state þe aray þᵉ nombre ⁊and þe cause
Whi þᵗat assembled was þis companie
In Sowthwerk at þis gentil hostelrie
That highte þe Taberd faste bi þe belle
But now is tyme to you forto telle
How þᵗat we bare vs þᵗat ilke nyȝt
Whanne þat were in þe hostry aliȝt
And aftir wil I telle of our viage
And al þe remenaunt of our pilgremage
But first I you pray of your curtasie
That ye ne rekene nat my vilonye
Though þat I playnly speke in þis matere
To telle you here wordis and hir chere
And þouȝ I speke here wordis propirly
For þis ye knowe as wel as I
Who shal a tale telle aftir aman
He moste reherce as nere as he can
Euery word if it be in his charge
Al speke he so rudely and so large
Or ellis he moste telle his tale vntrewe
Or seyn þyngis or feyne wordis newe
He may not spare al þouȝ he were his broþ̉er
He moot as wel say . o word as anothir
Crist spak him self ful brode in holy writ
And well ye woot no vilany is it
Eke plato saith who so can it rede
Þe word moste be cosyn to þe dede
Also I pray you foryeue it me
Al þouȝ I sette not folk in hir degre
Here in þize tales as þey sholde stonde
Mi wit is short ye may wel vnderstonde
GReet chere made our ost to vs euerichon
And to sopere sette vs anone
He serued vs with vitaill at þe beste
Strong was þe wyne ⁊and drynke vs liste
A semely man our host was wᵗith alle
Forto be a Marchal in an halle
A large man he was wᵗith yen stepe
A feirer burgeys is þer non in chepe
Bold of his speche and wel was I tauȝt
And of manhood lacked he riȝt nouȝt
Eke þerto was he riȝt a mery man
And aftir soper to pleyen he began
And spak of myrthe among oþer þyngez
Whanne þᵗat we hadde made our rekenynggez
He saide þus . now lordyngez trewly
Ye be to me riȝt welcome hertly
For be my trowthe yf þᵗat I shal not ly
I saw nat þis yeer so mery a company
At onys in þis harborow as now
Feyne wolde I do you myrthe If y wiste how
And of my myrthe I am i riȝt now be þouȝt
To do you eze and it shal coste you nouȝt
Ye go to Caunterbury god you spede
Þe blisful martir quyte your mede
And wel ye woot as ye go be þe weye
Ye shapyn you to talke and to pleye
For trewly comfort ne myrthe is non
To ride be þe wey dom as a stoon
And þerfore wil I make you disport
As I saide erst and do you comfort
And if it liketh you alle be on assent
Forto stonde at my iugement
And forto worke as I shal you say
To morow whanne ye riden on þe way
Now be my fader soule þat is ded
But ye be mery I shal yeue you my hed
Hold vp your hond wᵗithoute more speche
Our counsel shal not longe be to seche
Vs þouȝte it was not worth to make vs wise
And graunted him withoute more avise
And bad him say his verdit as him list
Lordynges ꝙquod he now herkeneth for þe best
But take it not I pray you in dysdeyne
This is þe poynt to speke it short ⁊and pleyn
That ech of you to shorte with your wey
In þis viage shal telle talis twey
To Cauntirbury ward I mene it so
And homward he shal telle oþer talis to
Of auenturis þat whilom haue befalle
And which of you berith him best of alle
That is to sey þat tellith in þis case
Tales of best sentence ⁊and most solace
Shal haue a soper of oure alther cost
Here in þis place sittynge bi þis post
Whanne þᵗat we come ayen from Caunterbury
And forto make you þe more mery
I wil my self go with you and ride
Riȝt at myn owen cost and be your gide
And who þat wol my iugement with say
Shortly al þat is spent be þe way
And if vouche saaf þat it be so
Tel me anone withoute wordis mo
And I wil hertly shape me þerfore
This þing was graunted ⁊and othis swore
With ful glad herte ⁊and preyen him also
Þat he wolde fowche saf to do so
And þat he wolde be our gouernour
And of oure talis Iuge ⁊and reportour
And sette a soper at a certayn price
And wol be rewlid at his deuyce
High and lowe ⁊and alle be on assent
We be accorded to the iugement
And þere vp on þe wyne was fet anone
We dronk . and to reste went we echone
Wᵗithoute eny lenger taryynge
Amorow whan þe day gan sprynge
Vp roos our host and was al our cok
And gadred vs alle in a flok
And forth we riden litil more þanne A paas
Vnto þe waterynge of saint Thomas
And þere our hoste gan his hors areste
And saide harkeneth lordingez as ye liste
Ye woot our forward and I you Recorde
Yf euensyng and morow song acorde
Let se now . who shal telle þe firste tale .
As evir moot he drynke wyne or Ale
Who so wil be rebel to my iugement
Shal paie for al þᵗat is be þe way spent
Now draw cut or þᵗat ye further twynne
Which shal þe firste tale begynne
Sire knyȝt ꝙquod he my maister ⁊and my lord
Drawith cut for þat is myn accord
Cometh hithir ꝙquod he my lady Prioresse
And ye ʆsir clerk let be your shamefastnesse
Ne stody not ley on hond euery man
Anon to withdrawe euery wight began
And shortly to telle as it was
Were it be auenture sortune or caas
The soth is þis þe cut fil on þe knyȝt
Of which ful blithe and glad is euery wiȝt
And telle he moste as it was reson
Be forward and be composicion̄
As ye haue herd what nedith wordis mo
And whanne þis good man saw þᵗat it was so
As he þat was wise ⁊and obedient
To kepe his forward be his fre assent
He saide sithnes I shal begynne þe game
What welcom be cut a goddis name
Now lat vs ride and herkyn what I say
And with þat word we riden forth on þe way
And he began with riȝt a mery chere
And saide anone his / tale as ye shul here
Here bigynneth þe knyȝtis tale
Whilom as olde story telleth vs
Ther was a duke þᵗat hiȝte Theseus
Of thebes he was lord ⁊and gouernour
And in his tyme such a conquerour
Þat gretter was þer none vnder sonne
Ful many a Riche contre had he wonne
That with his wisdom ⁊and his chiualrie
He conquered al þe regne of femenye
That whilom was cleped Citha
And wedded þe quene Ipolita
And brouȝte hir hom in to his contre
With moche glorie and solempnite
And eke hir yonge suster Emelye
And þus with victory and melodye
Lete I þis worthi duke to Athenes ride