Now when the knight had thus his story told,

2
In all the rout there was nor young nor old

3
But said it was a noble story, well

4
Worthy to be kept in mind to tell;

5
And specially the gentle folk, each one.

6
Our host, he laughed and swore, So may I run,

7
But this goes well; unbuckled is the mail;

8
Let's see now who can tell another tale:

9
For certainly the game is well begun.

10
Now shall you tell, sir monk, if't can be done,

11
Something with which to pay for the knight's tale.

12
The miller, who with drinking was all pale,

13
So that unsteadily on his horse he sat,

14
He would not take off either hood or hat,

15
Nor wait for any man, in courtesy,



16
But all in Pilate's voice began to cry,
17
And by the Arms and Blood and Bones he swore,
18
I have a noble story in my store,
19
With which I will requite the good knight's tale.
20
Our host saw, then, that he was drunk with ale,
21
And said to him: Wait, Robin, my dear brother,
22
Some better man shall tell us first another:
23
Submit and let us work on profitably.
24
Now by God's soul, cried he, that will not I!
25
For I will speak, or else I'll go my way.
26
Our host replied: Tell on, then, till doomsday!
27
You are a fool, your wit is overcome.
28
Now hear me, said the miller, all and some!
29
But first I make a protestation round
30
That I'm quite drunk, I know it by my sound:


31
And therefore, if I slander or mis-say,
32
Blame it on ale of Southwark, so I pray;
33
For I will tell a legend and a life
34
Both of a carpenter and of his wife,
35
And how a scholar set the good wright's cap.
36
The reeve replied and said: Oh, shut your trap,
37
Let be your ignorant drunken ribaldry!
38
It is a sin, and further, great folly
39
To asperse any man, or him defame,
40
And, too, to bring upon a man's wife shame.
41
There are enough of other things to say.
42
This drunken miller spoke on in his way,
43
And said: Oh, but my dear brother Oswald,
44
The man who has no wife is no cuckold.
45
But I say not, thereby, that you are one:


46
Many good wives there are, as women run,
47
And ever a thousand good to one that's bad,
48
As well you know yourself, unless you're mad.
49
Why are you angry with my story's cue?
50
I have a wife, begad, as well as you,
51
Yet I'd not, for the oxen of my plow,
52
Take on my shoulders more than is enow,
53
By judging of myself that I am one;
54
I will believe full well that I am none.
55
A husband must not be inquisitive
56
Of God, nor of his wife, while she's alive.
57
So long as he may find God's plenty there,
58
For all the rest he need not greatly care.
59
What should I say, except this miller rare
60
He would forgo his talk for no man there,


61
But told his churlish tale in his own way:
62
I think I'll here re-tell it, if I may.
63
And therefore, every gentle soul, I pray
64
That for God's love you'll hold not what I say
65
Evilly meant, but that I must rehearse,
66
All of their tales, the better and the worse,
67
Or else prove false to some of my design.
68
Therefore, who likes not this, let him, in fine,
69
Turn over page and choose another tale:
70
For he shall find enough, both great and small,
71
Of stories touching on gentility,
72
And holiness, and on morality;
73
And blame not me if you do choose amiss.
74
The miller was a churl, you well know this;
75
So was the reeve, and many another more,


76
And ribaldry they told from plenteous store.
77
Be then advised, and hold me free from blame;
78
Men should not be too serious at a game.

Miller’s Tale:




1
Once on a time was dwelling in Oxford

2
A wealthy lout who took in guests to board,

3
And of his craft he was a carpenter.

4
A poor scholar was lodging with him there,

5
Who'd learned the arts, but all his phantasy

6
Was turned to study of astrology;

7
And knew a certain set of theorems

8
And could find out by various stratagems,

9
If men but asked of him in certain hours

10
When they should have a drought or else have showers,

11
Or if men asked of him what should befall

12
To anything- I cannot reckon them all.

13
This clerk was called the clever Nicholas;

14
Of secret loves he knew and their solace;

15
And he kept counsel, too, for he was sly




16
And meek as any maiden passing by.

17
He had a chamber in that hostelry,

18
And lived alone there, without company,

19
All garnished with sweet herbs of good repute;

20
And he himself sweet-smelling as the root

21
Of licorice, valerian, or setwall.

22
His Almagest, and books both great and small,

23
His astrolabe, belonging to his art,

24
His algorism stones- all laid apart

25
On shelves that ranged beside his lone bed's head;

26
His press was covered with a cloth of red.

27
And over all there lay a psaltery

28
Whereon he made an evening's melody,

29
Playing so sweetly that the chamber rang;

30
And Angelus ad virginem he sang;




31
And after that he warbled the King's Note:

32
Often in good voice was his merry throat.

33
And thus this gentle clerk his leisure spends

34
Supported by some income and his friends.

35
This carpenter had lately wed a wife

36
Whom lie loved better than he loved his life;

37
And she was come to eighteen years of age.

38
Jealous he was and held her close in cage.

39
For she was wild and young, and he was old,

40
And deemed himself as like to be cuckold.

41
He knew not Cato, for his lore was rude:

42
That vulgar man should wed similitude.

43
A man should wed according to estate,

44
For youth and age are often in debate.

45
But now, since he had fallen in the snare,

46
He must endure, like other folk, his care.

47
Fair was this youthful wife, and therewithal

48
As weasel's was her body slim and small.

49
A girdle wore she, barred and striped, of silk.

50
An apron, too, as white as morning milk

51
About her loins, and full of many a gore;

52
White was her smock, embroidered all before

53
And even behind, her collar round about,

54
Of coal-black silk, on both sides, in and out;

55
The strings of the white cap upon her head

56
Were, like her collar, black silk worked with thread,

57
Her fillet was of wide silk worn full high:

58
And certainly she had a lickerish eye.

59
She'd thinned out carefully her eyebrows two,

60
And they were arched and black as any sloe.



61
She was a far more pleasant thing to see
62
Than is the newly budded young pear-tree;
63
And softer than the wool is on a wether.
64
Down from her girdle hung a purse of leather,
65
Tasselled with silk, with latten beading sown.
66
In all this world, searching it up and down,
67
So gay a little doll, I well believe,
68
Or such a wench, there's no man can conceive.
69
Far brighter was the brilliance of her hue
70
Than in the Tower the gold coins minted new.
71
And songs came shrilling from her pretty head
72
As from a swallow's sitting on a shed.
73
Therewith she'd dance too, and could play and sham
74
Like any kid or calf about its dam.
75
Her mouth was sweet as bragget or as mead


76
Or hoard of apples laid in hay or weed.
77
Skittish she was as is a pretty colt,
78
Tall as a staff and straight as cross-bow bolt.
79
A brooch she wore upon her collar low,
80
As broad as boss of buckler did it show;
81
Her shoes laced up to where a girl's legs thicken.
82
She was a primrose, and a tender chicken
83
For any lord to lay upon his bed,
84
Or yet for any good yeoman to wed.
85
Now, sir, and then, sir, go befell the case,
86
That on a day this clever Nicholas
87
Fell in with this young wife to toy and play,
88
The while her husband was down Osney way,
89
Clerks being as crafty as the best of us;
90
And unperceived he caught her by the puss,


91
Saying: Indeed, unless I have my will,
92
For secret love of you, sweetheart, I'll spill.
93
And held her hard about the hips, and how!
94
And said: O darling, love me, love me now,
95
Or I shall die, and pray you God may save!
96
And she leaped as a colt does in the trave,
97
And with her head she twisted fast away,
98
And said: I will not kiss you, by my fay!
99
Why, let go, cried she, let go, Nicholas!
100
Or I will call for help and cry 'alas!'
101
Do take your hands away, for courtesy!
102
This Nicholas for mercy then did cry,
103
And spoke so well, importuned her so fast
104
That she her love did grant him at the last,
105
And swore her oath, by Saint Thomas of Kent,
106
That she would be at his command, content,

107
As soon as opportunity she could spy.

108
My husband is so full of jealousy,

109
Unless you will await me secretly,

110
I know I'm just as good as dead, said she.

111
You must keep all quite hidden in this case.

112
Nay, thereof worry not, said Nicholas,

113
A clerk has lazily employed his while

114
If he cannot a carpenter beguile.

115
And thus they were agreed, and then they swore

116
To wait a while, as I have said before.

117
When Nicholas had done thus every whit

118
And patted her about the loins a bit,

119
He kissed her sweetly, took his psaltery,

120
And played it fast and made a melody.

121
Then fell it thus, that to the parish kirk,

122
The Lord Christ Jesus' own works for to work,

123
This good wife went, upon a holy day;

124
Her forehead shone as bright as does the May,

125
So well she'd washed it when she left off work.

126
Now there was of that church a parish clerk

127
Whose name was (as folk called him) Absalom.

128
Curled was his hair, shining like gold, and from

129
His head spread fanwise in a thick bright mop;

130
'Twas parted straight and even on the top;

131
His cheek was red, his eyes grey as a goose;

132
With Saint Paul's windows cut upon his shoes,

133
He stood in red hose fitting famously.

134
And he was clothed full well and properly

135
All in a coat of blue, in which were let

136
Holes for the lacings, which were fairly set.

137
And over all he wore a fine surplice

138
As white as ever hawthorn spray, and nice.

139
A merry lad he was, so God me save,

140
And well could he let blood, cut hair, and shave,

141
And draw a deed or quitclaim, as might chance.

142
In twenty manners could he trip and dance,

143
After the school that reigned in Oxford, though,

144
And with his two legs swinging to and fro;

145
And he could play upon a violin;

146
Thereto he sang in treble voice and thin;

147
And as well could he play on his guitar.

148
In all the town no inn was, and no bar,

149
That he'd not visited to make good cheer,

150
Especially were lively barmaids there.

151
But, truth to tell, he was a bit squeamish

152
Of farting and of language haughtyish.

153
This Absalom, who was so light and gay,

154
Went with a censer on the holy day,

155
Censing the wives like an enthusiast;

156
And on them many a loving look he cast,

157
Especially on this carpenter's goodwife.

158
To look at her he thought a merry life,

159
She was so pretty, sweet, and lickerous.

160
I dare well say, if she had been a mouse

161
And he a cat, he would have mauled her some.

162
This parish clerk, this lively Absalom

163
Had in his heart, now, such a love-longing

164
That from no wife took he an offering;

165
For courtesy, he said, he would take none.

166
The moon, when it was night, full brightly shone,

167
And his guitar did Absalom then take,

168
For in love-watching he'd intent to wake.

169
And forth he went, jolly and amorous,

170
Until he came unto the carpenter's house

171
A little after cocks began to crow;

172
And took his stand beneath a shot-window

173
That was let into the good wood-wright's wall.

174
He sang then, in his pleasant voice and small,

175
Oh now, dear lady, if your will it be,

176
I pray that you will have some ruth on me,

177
The words in harmony with his string-plucking.

178
This carpenter awoke and heard him sing,

179
And called unto his wife and said, in sum:

180
What, Alison! Do you hear Absalom,

181
Who plays and sings beneath our bedroom wall?

182
And she said to her husband, therewithal:

183
Yes, God knows, John, I hear it, truth to tell.

184
So this went on; what is there better than well?

185
From day to day this pretty Absalom

186
So wooed her he was woebegone therefrom.

187
He lay awake all night and all the day;

188
He combed his spreading hair and dressed him gay;

189
By go-betweens and agents, too, wooed he,

190
And swore her loyal page he'd ever be.

191
He sang as tremulously as nightingale;

192
He sent her sweetened wine and well-spiced ale

193
And waffles piping hot out of the fire,

194
And, she being town-bred, mead for her desire.

195
For some are won by means of money spent,

196
And some by tricks, and some by long descent.

197
Once, to display his versatility,

198
He acted Herod on a scaffold high.

199
But what availed it him in any case?

200
She was enamoured so of Nicholas

201
That Absalom might go and blow his horn;

202
He got naught for his labour but her scorn.

203
And thus she made of Absalom her ape,

204
And all his earnestness she made a jape.

205
For truth is in this proverb, and no lie,

206
Men say well thus: It's always he that's nigh

207
That makes the absent lover seem a sloth.

208
For now, though Absalom be wildly wroth,

209
Because he is so far out of her sight,

210
This handy Nicholas stands in his light.

211
Now bear you well, you clever Nicholas!

212
For Absalom may wail and sing Alas!

213
And so it chanced that on a Saturday

214
This carpenter departed to. Osney;

215
And clever Nicholas and Alison

216
Were well agreed to this effect: anon

217
This Nicholas should put in play a wile

218
The simple, jealous husband to beguile;

219
And if it chanced the game should go a-right,

220
She was to sleep within his arms all night,

221
For this was his desire, and hers also.

222
Presently then, and without more ado,

223
This Nicholas, no longer did he tarry,

224
But softly to his chamber did he carry

225
Both food and drink to last at least a day,

226
Saying that to her husband she should say-

227
If he should come to ask for Nicholas-

228
Why, she should say she knew not where he was,

229
For all day she'd not seen him, far or nigh;

230
She thought he must have got some malady,

231
Because in vain her maid would knock and call;

232
He'd answer not, whatever might befall.

233
And so it was that all that Saturday

234
This Nicholas quietly in chamber lay,

235
And ate and slept, or did what pleased him best,

236
Till Sunday when the sun had gone to rest.

237
This simple man with wonder heard the tale,

238
And marvelled what their Nicholas might ail,

239
And said: I am afraid, by Saint Thomas,

240
That everything's not well with Nicholas.

241
God send he be not dead so suddenly!

242
This world is most unstable, certainly;

243
I saw, today, the corpse being borne to kirk

244
Of one who, but last Monday, was at work.

245
Go up, said he unto his boy anon,

246
Call at his door, or knock there with a stone,

247
Learn how it is and boldly come tell me.

248
The servant went up, then, right sturdily,

249
And at the chamber door, the while he stood,

250
He cried and knocked as any madman would-

251
What! How! What do you, Master Nicholay?

252
How can you sleep through all the livelong day?

253
But all for naught, he never heard a word;

254
A hole he found, low down upon a board,

255
Through which the house cat had been wont to creep;

256
And to that hole he stooped, and through did peep,

257
And finally he ranged him in his sight.

258
This Nicholas sat gaping there, upright,

259
As if he'd looked too long at the new moon.

260
Downstairs he went and told his master soon

261
In what array he'd found this self-same man.

262
This carpenter to cross himself began,

263
And said: Now help us, holy Frideswide!

264
Little a man can know what shall betide.

265
This man is fallen, with his astromy,

266
Into some madness or some agony;

267
I always feared that somehow this would be!

268
Men should not meddle in God's privity.

269
Aye, blessed always be the ignorant man,

270
Whose creed is, all he ever has to scan!

271
So fared another clerk with astromy;

272
He walked into the meadows for to pry

273
Into the stars, to learn what should befall,

274
Until into a clay-pit he did fall;

275
He saw not that. But yet, by Saint Thomas,

276
I'm sorry for this clever Nicholas.

277
He shall be scolded for his studying,

278
If not too late, by Jesus, Heaven's King!

279
Get me a staff, that I may pry before,

280
The while you, Robin, heave against the door.

281
We'll take him from this studying, I guess.

282
And on the chamber door, then, he did press.

283
His servant was a stout lad, if a dunce,

284
And by the hasp he heaved it up at once;

285
Upon the floor that portal fell anon.

286
This Nicholas sat there as still as stone,

287
Gazing, with gaping mouth, straight up in air.

288
This carpenter thought he was in despair,

289
And took him by the shoulders, mightily,

290
And shook him hard, and cried out, vehemently:

291
What! Nicholay! Why how now! Come, look down!

292
Awake, and think on Jesus' death and crown!

293
I cross you from all elves and magic wights!

294
And then the night-spell said he out, by rights,

295
At the four corners of the house about,

296
And at the threshold of the door, without:-

297
O Jesus Christ and good Saint Benedict,

298
Protect this house from all that may afflict,

299
For the night hag the white Paternoster!-

300
Where hast thou gone, Saint Peter's sister?

301
And at the last this clever Nicholas

302
Began to sigh full sore, and said: Alas!

303
Shall all the world be lost so soon again?

304
This carpenter replied: What say you, then?

305
What! Think on God, as we do, men that swink.

306
This Nicholas replied: Go fetch me drink;

307
And afterward I'll tell you privately

308
A certain thing concerning you and me;

309
I'll tell it to no other man or men.

310
This carpenter went down and came again,

311
And brought of potent ale a brimming quart;

312
And when each one of them had drunk his part,

313
Nicholas shut the door fast, and with that

314
He drew a seat and near the carpenter sat.

315
He said: Now, John, my good host, lief and dear,

316
You must upon your true faith swear, right here,

317
That to no man will you this word betray;

318
For it is Christ's own word that I will say,

319
And if you tell a man, you're ruined quite;

320
This punishment shall come to you, of right,

321
That if you're traitor you'll go mad- and should!

322
Nay, Christ forbid it, for His holy blood!

323
Said then this simple man: I am no blab,

324
Nor, though I say it, am I fond of gab.

325
Say what you will, I never will it tell

326
To child or wife, by Him that harried Hell!

327
Now, John, said Nicholas, I will not lie;

328
But I've found out, from my astrology,

329
As I have looked upon the moon so bright,

330
That now, come Monday next, at nine of night,

331
Shall fall a rain so wildly mad as would

332
Have been, by half, greater than Noah's flood.

333
This world, he said, in less time than an hour,

334
Shall all be drowned, so terrible is this shower;

335
Thus shall all mankind drown and lose all life.

336
This carpenter replied: Alas, my wife!

337
And shall she drown? Alas, my Alison!

338
For grief of this he almost fell. Anon

339
He said: Is there no remedy in this case?

340
Why yes, good luck, said clever Nicholas,

341
If you will work by counsel of the wise;

342
You must not act on what your wits advise.

343
For so says Solomon, and it's all true,

344
'Work by advice and thou shalt never rue.'

345
And if you'll act as counselled and not fail,

346
I undertake, without a mast or sail,

347
To save us all, aye you and her and me.

348
Haven't you heard of, Noah, how saved was he,

349
Because Our Lord had warned him how to keep

350
Out of the flood that covered earth so deep?

351
Yes, said this carpenter, long years ago.

352
Have you not heard, asked Nicholas, also

353
The sorrows of Noah and his fellowship

354
In getting his wife to go aboard the ship?

355
He would have rather, I dare undertake,

356
At that time, and for all the weather black,

357
That she had one ship for herself alone.

358
Therefore, do you know what would best be done?

359
This thing needs haste, and of a hasty thing

360
Men must not preach nor do long tarrying.

361
Presently go, and fetch here to this inn

362
A kneading-tub, or brewing vat, and win

363
One each for us, but see that they are large,

364
Wherein we may swim out as in a barge,

365
And have therein sufficient food and drink

366
For one day only; that's enough, I think.

367
The water will dry up and flow away

368
About the prime of the succeeding day.

369
But Robin must not know of this, your knave,

370
And even Jill, your maid, I may not save;

371
Ask me not why, for though you do ask me,

372
I will not tell you of God's privity.

373
Suffice you, then, unless your wits are mad,

374
To have as great a grace as Noah had.

375
Your wife I shall not lose, there is no doubt,

376
Go, now, your way, and speedily about,

377
But when you have, for you and her and me,

378
Procured these kneading-tubs, or beer-vats, three,

379
Then you shall hang them near the roof-tree high,

380
That no man our purveyance may espy.

381
And when you thus have done, as I have said,

382
And have put in our drink and meat and bread,

383
Also an axe to cut the ropes in two

384
When the flood comes, that we may float and go,

385
And cut a hole, high up, upon the gable,

386
Upon the garden side, over the stable,

387
That we may freely pass forth on our way

388
When the great rain and flood are gone that day-

389
Then shall you float as merrily, I'll stake,

390
As does the white duck after the white drake.

391
Then I will call, 'Ho, Alison! Ho, John!

392
Be cheery, for the flood will pass anon.'

393
And you will say, 'Hail. Master Nicholay!

394
Good morrow, I see you well, for it is day!'

395
And then shall we be barons all our life

396
Of all the world, like Noah and his wife.

397
But of one thing I warn you now, outright.

398
Be well advised, that on that very night

399
When we have reached our ships and got aboard,

400
Not one of us must speak or whisper word,

401
Nor call, nor cry, but sit in silent prayer;

402
For this is God's own bidding, hence- don't dare!

403
Your wife and you must hang apart, that in

404
The night shall come no chance for you to sin

405
Either in looking or in carnal deed.

406
These orders I have told you, go, God speed!

407
Tomorrow night, when all men are asleep,

408
Into our kneading-tubs will we three creep

409
And sit there, still, awaiting God's high grace.

410
Go, now, your way, I have no longer space

411
Of time to make a longer sermoning.

412
Men say thus: 'Send the wise and say no thing.'

413
You are so wise it needs not that I teach;

414
Go, save our lives, and that I do beseech.

415
This silly carpenter went on his way.

416
Often he cried Alas! and Welaway!

417
And to his wife he told all, privately;

418
But she was better taught thereof than he

419
How all this rigmarole was to apply.

420
Nevertheless she acted as she'd die,

421
And said: Alas! Go on your way anon,

422
Help us escape, or we are lost, each one;

423
I am your true and lawfully wedded wife;

424
Go, my dear spouse, and help to save our life.

425
Lo, what a great thing is affection found!

426
Men die of imagination, I'll be bound,

427
So deep an imprint may the spirit take.

428
This hapless carpenter began to quake;

429
He thought now, verily, that he could see

430
Old Noah's flood come wallowing like the sea

431
To drown his Alison, his honey dear.

432
He wept, he wailed, he made but sorry cheer,

433
He sighed and made full many a sob and sough.

434
He went and got himself a kneading-trough

435
And, after that, two tubs he somewhere found

436
And to his dwelling privately sent round,

437
And hung them near the roof, all secretly.

438
With his own hand, then, made he ladders three,

439
To climb up by the rungs thereof, it seems,

440
And reach the tubs left hanging to the beams;

441
And those he victualled, tubs and kneading-trough,

442
With bread and cheese and good jugged ale, enough

443
To satisfy the needs of one full day.

444
But ere he'd put all this in such array,

445
He sent his servants, boy and maid, right down

446
Upon some errand into London town.

447
And on the Monday, when it came on night,

448
He shut his door, without a candle-light,

449
And ordered everything as it should be.

450
And shortly after up they climbed, all three;

451
They sat while one might plow a furlong-way.

452
Now, by Our Father, hush! said Nicholay,

453
And Hush! said John, and Hush! said Alison.

454
This carpenter, his loud devotions done,

455
Sat silent, saying mentally a prayer,

456
And waiting for the rain, to hear it there.

457
The deathlike sleep of utter weariness

458
Fell on this wood-wright even. (as I guess)

459
About the curfew time, or little more;

460
For travail of his spirit he groaned sore,

461
And soon he snored, for badly his head lay.

462
Down by the ladder crept this Nicholay,

463
And Alison, right softly down she sped.

464
Without more words they went and got in bed

465
Even where the carpenter was wont to lie.

466
There was the revel and the melody!

467
And thus lie Alison and Nicholas,

468
In joy that goes by many an alias,

469
Until the bells for lauds began to ring

470
And friars to the chancel went to sing.

471
This parish clerk, this amorous Absalom,

472
Whom love has made so woebegone and dumb,

473
Upon the Monday was down Osney way,

474
With company, to find some sport and play;

475
And there he chanced to ask a cloisterer,

476
Privately, after John the carpenter.

477
This monk drew him apart, out of the kirk,

478
And said: I have not seen him here at work.

479
Since Saturday; I think well that he went

480
For timber, that the abbot has him sent;

481
For he is wont for timber thus to go,

482
Remaining at the grange a day or so;

483
Or else he's surely at his house today;

484
But which it is I cannot truly say.

485
This Absalom right happy was and light,

486
And thought: Now is the time to wake all night;

487
For certainly I saw him not stirring

488
About his door since day began to spring.

489
So may I thrive, as I shall, at cock's crow,

490
Knock cautiously upon that window low

491
Which is so placed upon his bedroom wall.

492
To Alison then will I tell of all

493
My love-longing, and thus I shall not miss

494
That at the least I'll have her lips to kiss.

495
Some sort of comfort shall I have, I say,

496
My mouth's been itching all this livelong day;

497
That is a sign of kissing at the least.

498
All night I dreamed, too, I was at a feast.

499
Therefore I'll go and sleep two hours away

500
And all this night then will I wake and play.

501
And so when time of first cock-crow was come,

502
Up rose this merry lover, Absalom,

503
And dressed him gay and all at point-device,

504
But first he chewed some licorice and spice

505
So he'd smell sweet, ere he had combed his hair.

506
Under his tongue some bits of true-love rare,

507
For thereby thought he to be more gracious.

508
He went, then, to the carpenter's dark house.

509
And silent stood beneath the shot-window;

510
Unto his breast it reached, it was so low;

511
And he coughed softly, in a low half tone:

512
What do you, honeycomb, sweet Alison?

513
My cinnamon, my fair bird, my sweetie,

514
Awake, O darling mine, and speak to me!

515
It's little thought you give me and my woe,

516
Who for your love do sweat where'er I go.

517
Yet it's no wonder that I faint and sweat;

518
I long as does the lamb for mother's teat.

519
Truly, sweetheart, I have such love-longing

520
That like a turtle-dove's my true yearning;

521
And I can eat no more than can a maid.

522
Go from the window, Jack-a-napes, she said,

523
For, s'help me God, it is not 'come kiss me.'

524
I love another, or to blame I'd be,

525
Better than you, by Jesus, Absalom!

526
Go on your way, or I'll stone you therefrom,

527
And let me sleep, the fiends take you away!

528
Alas, quoth Absalom, and welaway!

529
That true love ever was so ill beset!

530
But kiss me, since you'll do no more, my pet,

531
For Jesus' love and for the love of me.

532
And will you go, then, on your way? asked she,

533
Yes truly, darling, said this Absalom.

534
Then make you ready, said she, and I'll come!

535
And unto Nicholas said she, low and still:

536
Be silent now, and you shall laugh your fill.

537
This Absalom plumped down upon his knees,

538
And said: I am a lord in all degrees;

539
For after this there may be better still

540
Darling, my sweetest bird, I wait your will.

541
The window she unbarred, and that in haste.

542
Have done, said she, come on, and do it fast,

543
Before we're seen by any neighbour's eye.

544
This Absalom did wipe his mouth all dry;

545
Dark was the night as pitch, aye dark as coal,

546
And through the window she put out her hole.

547
And Absalom no better felt nor worse,

548
But with his mouth he kissed her naked arse

549
Right greedily, before he knew of this.

550
Aback he leapt- it seemed somehow amiss,

551
For well he knew a woman has no beard;

552
He'd felt a thing all rough and longish haired,

553
And said, Oh fie, alas! What did I do?

554
Teehee! she laughed, and clapped the, window to;

555
And Absalom went forth a sorry pace.

556
A beard! A beard! cried clever Nicholas,

557
Now by God's corpus, this goes fair and well!

558
This hapless Absalom, he heard that yell,

559
And on his lip, for anger, he did bite;

560
And to himself he said, I will requite!

561
Who vigorously rubbed and scrubbed his lips

562
With dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips,

563
But Absalom, and often cried Alas!

564
My soul I give now unto Sathanas,

565
For rather far than own this town, said he,

566
For this despite, it's well revenged I'd be.

567
Alas, said he, from her I never blenched!

568
His hot love was grown cold, aye and all quenched;

569
For, from the moment that he'd kissed her arse,

570
For paramours he didn't care a curse,

571
For he was healed of all his malady;

572
Indeed all paramours he did defy,

573
And wept as does a child that has been beat.

574
With silent step he went across the street

575
Unto a smith whom men called Dan Jarvis,

576
Who in his smithy forged plow parts, that is

577
He sharpened shares and coulters busily.

578
This Absalom he knocked all easily,

579
And said: Unbar here, Jarvis, for I come.

580
What! Who are you? It's I, it's Absalom.

581
What! Absalom! For Jesus Christ's sweet tree,

582
Why are you up so early? Ben'cite!

583
What ails you now, man? Some gay girl, God knows,

584
Has brought you on the jump to my bellows;

585
By Saint Neot, you know well what I mean.

586
This Absalom cared not a single bean

587
For all this play, nor one word back he gave;

588
He'd more tow on his distaff, had this knave,

589
Than Jarvis knew, and said he: Friend so dear,

590
This red-hot coulter in the fireplace here,

591
Lend it to me, I have a need for it,

592
And I'll return it after just a bit.

593
Jarvis replied: Certainly, were it gold

594
Or a purse filled with yellow coins untold,

595
Yet should you have it, as I am true smith;

596
But eh, Christ's foe! What will you do therewith?

597
Let that, said Absalom, be as it may;

598
I'll tell you all tomorrow, when it's day-

599
And caught the coulter then by the cold steel

600
And softly from the smithy door did steal

601
And went again up to the wood-wright's wall.

602
He coughed at first, and then he knocked withal

603
Upon the window, as before, with care.

604
This Alison replied: Now who is there?

605
And who knocks so? I'll warrant it's a thief.

606
Why no, quoth he, God knows, my sweet roseleaf,

607
I am your Absalom, my own darling!

608
Of gold, quoth he, I have brought you a ring;

609
My mother gave it me, as I'll be saved;

610
Fine gold it is, and it is well engraved;

611
This will I give you for another kiss.

612
This Nicholas had risen for a piss,

613
And thought that it would carry on the jape

614
To have his arse kissed by this jack-a-nape.

615
And so he opened window hastily,

616
And put his arse out thereat, quietly,

617
Over the buttocks, showing the whole bum;

618
And thereto said this clerk, this Absalom,

619
O speak, sweet bird, I know not where thou art.

620
This Nicholas just then let fly a fart

621
As loud as it had been a thunder-clap,

622
And well-nigh blinded Absalom, poor chap;

623
But he was ready with his iron hot

624
And Nicholas right in the arse he got.

625
Off went the skin a hand's-breadth broad, about,

626
The coulter burned his bottom so, throughout,

627
That for the pain he thought that he should die.

628
And like one mad he started in to cry,

629
Help! Water! Water! For God's dear heart!

630
This carpenter out of his sleep did start,

631
Hearing that Water! cried as madman would,

632
And thought, Alas, now comes down Noel's flood!

633
He struggled up without another word

634
And with his axe he cut in two the cord,

635
And down went all; he did not stop to trade

636
In bread or ale till he'd the journey made,

637
And there upon the floor he swooning lay.

638
Up started Alison and Nicholay

639
And shouted Help! and Hello! down the street.

640
The neighbours, great and small, with hastening feet

641
Swarmed in the house to stare upon this man,

642
Who lay yet swooning, and all pale and wan;

643
For in the falling he had smashed his arm.

644
He had to suffer, too, another harm,

645
For when he spoke he was at once borne down

646
By clever Nicholas and Alison.

647
For they told everyone that he was odd;

648
He was so much afraid of Noel's flood,

649
Through fantasy, that out of vanity

650
He'd gone and bought these kneading-tubs, all three,

651
And that he'd hung them near the roof above;

652
And that he had prayed them, for God's dear love,

653
To sit with him and bear him company.

654
The people laughed at all this fantasy;

655
Up to the roof they looked, and there did gape,

656
And so turned all his injury to a jape.

657
For when this carpenter got in a word,

658
'Twas all in vain, no man his reasons heard;

659
With oaths imprenive he was so sworn down,

660
That he was held for mad by all the town;

661
For every clerk did side with every other.

662
They said: The man is crazy, my dear brother.

663
And everyone did laugh at all this strife.

664
Thus futtered was the carpenter's goodwife,

665
For all his watching and his jealousy;

666
And Absalom has kissed her nether eye;

667
And Nicholas is branded on the butt.

668
This tale is done, and God save all the rout!