“What do ye, hony-comb, swete Alisoun?
My faire brid, my swete cinamome,
Awaketh, lemman myn, and speketh to me!
Wel litel thenken ye up-on my wo,
That for your love I swete ther I go.
No wonder is thogh that I swelte and swete;
I moorne as doth a lamb after the tete.
Y-wis, lemman, I have swich love-longinge,
That lyk a turtel trewe is my moorninge;
I may nat ete na more than a mayde.”
“Go fro the window, Jakke fool,” she sayde,
“As help me god, it wol nat be‘com ba me;
I love another, and elles I were to blame,
Wel bet than thee, by Jesu, Absolon!
Go forth thy wey, or I wol caste a ston,
And lat me slepe, a twenty devel wey!”
“Allas,” quod Absolon, “and weylawey!
That trewe love was ever so yvel biset!
Than kisse me, sin it may be no bet,
For Jesus love and for the love of me.”
“Wiltow than go thy wey ther-with?” quod she.
“Ye, certes, lemman,” quod this Absolon.
“Thanne make thee redy,” quod she, “I come anon;”
And un-to Nicholas she seyde stille,
“Now hust, and thou shalt laughen al thy fille.”
This Absolon doun sette him on his knees,
And seyde, “I am a lord at alle degrees;
And all the night will I wake and play.”
When that the first cock crowed, anon
Up rose this jolly lover Absolon,
And dressed himself up to perfection.
But first he chewed cardamom and licorice,
To smell sweet, before he combed his hair.
Under his tongue a true-love leaf he bore,
And thereby thought he to be gracious.
He roamed to the carpenter’s house,
And still he stood under the open window—
Up to his breast it reached, it was so low—
And soft he coughed with a small sound:
“What do you, honeycomb, sweet Alison,
My fair bird, my sweet cinnamon?
Awaken, sweetheart mine, and speak to me!
Well little think you upon my woe,
That for your love I sweat wherever I go.
No wonder it is that I swelter and sweat;
I yearn as does a lamb after the teat.
Truly, sweetheart, I have such love-longing,
That like a turtledove true is my mourning;
I may not eat more than a maid.”
“Go from the window, Jack fool,” she said,
“As help me God, it will not be ‘come kiss me.’
I love another, and otherwise I would be to blame,
Much better than you, by Jesu, Absolon!
Go forth your way or I will cast a stone,
And let me sleep, in the devil’s name!”
“Alas,” said Absolon, “and wellaway,
That true love was ever so ill-bestowed!
Then kiss me, since it may be no better,
For Jesus’ love and for the love of me.”
“Will you then get out of here?” said she.
“Yes, truly,” said this Absolon.
“Then make you ready,” said she, “Here I come!”
And to Nicholas she said quietly,
“Now hush, and you shall laugh all your fill.”
This Absolon down set him on his knees,
And said, “I am a lord in all ways;
For after this I hope ther cometh more!
Lemman, thy grace, and swete brid, thyn ore!”
The window she undoth, and that in haste,
“Have do,” quod she, “com of, and speed thee faste,
Lest that our neighebores thee espye.”
This Absolon gan wype his mouth ful drye;
Derk was the night as pich, or as the cole,
And at the window out she putte hir hole,
And Absolon, him fil no bet ne wers,
But with his mouth he kiste hir naked ers
Ful savourly, er he was war of this.
Abak he sterte, and thoghte it was amis,
For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd;
He felt a thing al rough and long y-herd,
And seyde, “fy! allas! what have I do?”
“Tehee!” quod she, and clapte the window to;
And Absolon goth forth a sory pas.
“A berd, a berd!” quod hende Nicholas,
“By goddes corpus, this goth faire and weel!”
This sely Absolon herde every deel,
And on his lippe he gan for anger byte;
And to him-self he seyde, “I shal thee quyte!”
Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes
With dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with
chippes,
But Absolon, that seith ful ofte, “allas!
My soule bitake I un-to Sathanas,
But me wer lever than al this toun,” quod he,
“Of this despyt awroken for to be!
Allas!” quod he, “allas! I ne hadde y-bleynt!”
His hote love was cold and al y-queynt;
For fro that tyme that he had kiste hir ers,
Of paramours he sette nat a kers,
For he was heled of his maladye;
Ful ofte paramours he gan deffye,
And weep as dooth a child that is y-bete.
A softe paas he wente over the strete
Un-til a smith men cleped daun Gerveys,
That in his forge smithed plough-harneys;
For after this I hope there will be more.
Sweetheart, your grace, and sweet bird, your mercy!”
The window she wide opened, and that in haste,
“Have do,” said she, “come on, and hurry,
Lest our neighbors you espy.”
This Absolon wiped his mouth full dry:
Dark was the night as pitch, or as the coal,
And out the window she put her hole,
And Absolon, fared no better or worse,
But with his mouth he kissed her naked arse
Full savourly, before he was aware of this.
Aback he started, and thought it was amiss,
For well he knew a woman had no beard;
He felt a thing all rough and long-haired,
And said, “Fie! alas, what have I done?”
“Teehee,” said she, and clapped the window shut;
And Absolon went forth with sorry step.
“A beard, a beard!” said nice Nicholas,
“By God’s body, this goes fair and well!”
This poor Absolon heard every word,
And on his lip he began for anger to bite;
And to himself he said, “I shall you requite.”
Who rubs now, who chafes now his lips
With dirt, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with
bark chips,
But Absolon, who says full often, “Alas!
My soul I commit to Satan,
If I would rather own this town,” said he,
“Than be avenged of this insult to me.
Alas!” said he, “alas, that I did not abstain!”
His hot love was cold and quenched and quashed;
For from that time that he had kissed her arse,
For paramours he cared not a watercress,
For he was cured of his illness.
Full often paramours he began to decry,
And wept as does a beaten child.
With a soft step he went across the street
To a blacksmith called Gervase,
Who in his smithy forged plough hardware:
He sharpeth shaar and culter bisily
This Absolon knokketh al esily,
And seyde, “undo, Gerveys, and that anon.”
“What, who artow?” “It am I, Absolon.”
>
“What, Absolon! for Cristes swete tree,
Why ryse ye so rathe, ey ben‘cite!
What eyleth yow? som gay gerl, god it woot,
Hath broght yow thus up-on the viritoot;
By sëynt Note, ye woot wel what I mene.”
This Absolon ne roghte nat a bene
Of al his pley, no word agayn he yaf;
He hadde more tow on his distaf
Than Gerveys knew, and seyde, “freend so dere,
That hote culter in the chimenee here,
As lene it me, I have ther-with to done,
And I wol bringe it thee agayn ful sone.”
Gerveys answerde, “certes, were it gold,
Or in a poke nobles alle untold,
Thou sholdest have, as I am trewe smith;
Ey, Cristes foo! what wol ye do therwith?”
“Therof,” quod Absolon, “be as be may;
I shal wel telle it thee to-morwe day”—
And caughte the culter by the colde stele.
Ful softe out at the dore he gan to stele,
And wente un-to the carpenteres wal.
He cogheth first, and knokketh ther-with-al
Upon the windowe, right as he dide er.
This Alison answerde, “Who is ther
That knokketh so? I warante it a theef.”
“Why, nay,” quod he, “god woot, my swete leef,
I am thyn Absolon, my dereling!
Of gold,” quod he, “I have thee broght a ring;
My moder yaf it me, so god me save,
Ful fyn it is, and ther-to wel y-grave;
This wol I yeve thee, if thou me kisse!”
This Nicholas was risen for to pisse,
And thoghte he wolde amenden al the jape,
He sholde kisse his ers er that he scape.
And up the windowe dide he hastily,
He busily sharpened both coulter and ploughshare.
This Absolon knocked all quietly,
And said, “Open up, Gervase, and that anon.”
“What, who are you?” “It is I, Absolon.”
“What, Absolon! For Christ’s sweet cross,
Why rise you so early, aye, benedicite!
What ails you? Some pretty girl, God knows,
Has brought you out upon first cock crow;
By Saint Neot,18 you know well what I mean.”
This Absolon cared not beans
For all his joking. No word he gave in reply;
He had more on his mind
Than Gervase knew, and said, “Friend so dear,
That hot coulter19 in the forge here,
Do lend it me: I have therewith to do,
And I will bring it to you again full soon.”
Gervase answered, “Truly, were it gold,
Or sack of coins in number untold,
You should have it, as I am a true smith.
Hey, Devil take it, what will you do with it?”
“Thereof,” said Absolon, “be it as it may:
I shall tell you tomorrow day,”
And caught the coulter by the handle’s cold steel.
Full soft out the door he began to steal,
And went unto the carpenter’s wall.
He coughed first, and knocked therewithal
Upon the window, just as he did before.
And Alison answered, “Who is there
Who knocks so? I warrant it’s a thief.”
“Why, nay,” said he, “God knows, my dear sweet one,
I am your Absolon, my darling.
Of gold,” said he, “I have brought you a ring—
My mother gave it to me, so God me save—
Full fine it is, and well-engraved.
This will I give you, if you me kiss!”
This Nicholas was risen for to piss,
And thought he would improve upon the caper;
He should kiss his arse before he escapes.
And up the window put he hastily,
And out his ers he putteth prively
Over the buttok, to the haunche-bon;
And ther-with spak this clerk, this Absolon,
“Spek, swete brid, I noot nat wher thou art.”
This Nicholas anon leet flee a fart,
As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almost y-blent;
And he was redy with his iren hoot,
And Nicholas amidde the ers he smoot.
Of gooth the skin an hande-brede aboute,
The hote culter brende so his toute,
And for the smert he wende for to dye.
As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye—
“Help! water! water! help, for goddes herte!”
This carpenter out of his slomber sterte,
And herde oon cryen “water” as he were wood,
And thoghte, “Allas! now comth Nowélis flood!”
He sit him up with-outen wordes mo,
And with his ax he smoot the corde a-two,
And doun goth al; he fond neither to selle,
Ne breed ne ale, til he cam to the selle
Up-on the floor; and ther aswowne he lay.
Up sterte hir Alison, and Nicholay,
And cryden “out” and “harrow” in the strete.
The neighebores, bothe smale and grete,
In ronnen, for to guaren on this man,
That yet aswowne he lay, bothe pale and wan;
For with the fal he brosten hadde his arm;
But stonde he moste un-to his owne harm.
For whan he spak, he was anon bore doun
With hende Nicholas and Alisoun.
They tolden every man that he was wood,
He was agast so of “Nowélis flood”
Thurgh fantasye, that of his vanitee
He hadde y-boght him kneding-tubbes three,
And hadde hem hanged in the roof above;
And that he preyed hem, for goddes love,
To sitten in the roof, par companye.
The folk gan laughen at his fantasye;
And out his arse he put secretly
Over the buttock, to the haunch-bone;
And therewith spoke this clerk, this Absolon,
“Speak, sweet bird, I know not where you are.”
This Nicholas anon let fly a fart,
As great as had it been a thunderclap,
And with that stroke Absolon was almost blinded;
And he was ready with his iron hot;
And Nicholas amid the arse he smote.
Off went the skin a handsbreath across,
The hot coulter burned so his bum,
And for the smart he expected for to die.
As if he were gone berserk, he began to cry—
“Help! water! water! Harrow,20 for God’s heart!”
This carpenter out of his slumber started,
And heard someone crying ‘water’ as if gone mad,
And thought, “Alas, now comes Noel’s flood!”21
He sat him up without words more,
And with his axe he smote the cord in two,
And down went all, he found time neither to sail
Nor for bread or ale, till he came to the boards
Upon the floor; and there in a faint he lay.
Up leapt Alison and Nicholay,
And cried “help” and “help” in the street.
The neighbors, both small and great,
In ran to stare at this man,
Who still fainted lay, both pale and wan;
For with the fall he had broken his arm.
But bear the burden he must for his own harm.
For when he spoke, he was at once shouted down
By both Nicholas and Alison.
They told every man that he was crazy,
He was so afraid of “Noel’s flood”
Through delusion, that of his foolish pride
He had bought him kneading tubs three,
And had them hanged in the
roof above;
And that he prayed them, for God’s love,
To sit in the roof, for the sake of company.
The folk laughed hard at his fantasy;
In-to the roof they kyken and they gape,
And turned al his harm un-to a jape.
For what so that this carpenter answerde,
It was for noght, no man his reson herde;
With othes grete he was so sworn adoun,
That he was holden wood in al the toun;
For every clerk anon-right heeld with other.
They sede, “the man is wood, my leve brother;”
And every wight gan laughen of this stryf.
Thus swyved was the carpenteres wyf,
For al his keping and his jalousye;
And Absolon hath kist hir nether ye;
And Nicholas is scalded in the toute.
This tale is doon, and god save al the route!
Into the roof they gazed and gawked,
And turned all his misfortune into a joke.
For whatsoever that this carpenter answered,
It was for nought; no man his reasons heard.
With oaths great he was so sworn down,
That he was thought mad in all the town.
For every scholar agreed at once with the other:
They said, “The man is unhinged, my dear brother;”
And every person laughed at this strife.
Thus screwed by another was the carpenter’s wife
For all his guarding and his jealousy;
And Absolon had kissed her nether eye;
And Nicholas is scalded in the bum.
This tale is done, and God save all the company!
The Reves Tale
The Prologue
WHAN FOLK HAD LAUGHEN at this nyce cas
Of Absolon and hende Nicholas,
Diverse folk diversely they seyde;
But, for the more part, they loughe and pleyde,
Ne at this tale I saugh no man him greve,
But it were only Osewold the Reve,
By-cause he was of carpenteres craft.
A litel ire is in his herte y-laft,
He gan to grucche and blamed it a lyte.
“So thee‘k,” quod he, “ful wel coude I yow quytë
With blering of a proud milleres yë,
If that me liste speke of ribaudye.
But ik am old, me list not pley for age;
Gras-tyme is doon, my fodder is now forage,
This whyte top wryteth myne olde yeres,
Myn herte is al-so mowled as myne heres,
But-if I fare as dooth an open-ers;
That ilke fruit is ever leng the wers,
Til it be roten in mullok or in stree.
We olde men, I drede, so fare we;
Til we be roten, can we nat be rype;
We hoppen ay, whyl that the world wol pype.
For in oure wil ther stiketh ever a nayl,
Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 26