Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Read online

  His cape was always full of knives

  And pins for to give fair wives.

  And certainly he had a nice voice;

  Well could he sing and pluck the strings:

  For ballad singing he was first choice.

  His neck white was as the lily flower;

  Plus he had a champion’s muscle power.

  He knew the taverns well in every town,

  And every innkeeper and every bargirl

  Better than he knew any leper or lady beggar,

  For such a worthy man as he

  Should not, in his belief,

  Have acquaintance with sick lepers:

  It was not dignified and did him no good

  To deal with such poor suffering souls,

  But always with rich folk and food purveyors.

  And everywhere—anywhere—profit promised to arise,

  Courteous he was, and humble in service.

  There was no man anywhere near so virtuous.

  He was the best beggar in his order’s house,

  (And gave a certain payment for the grant:12

  None of his brothers trespassed on his haunts.)

  For though a widow had not a shoe,

  So pleasant was his In principio,13

  That he would have a farthing before he went.

  His income was well better than his rent.

  And he could be charming as a pup.

  To resolve disputes he could often help,

  For he was not like a cloisterer,

  With threadbare cape, as is a poor scholar.14

  But he was like a master or a pope:

  Of double-worsted was his half-cape,

  That swelled around him like a bell.

  Somewhat he lisped, in affectation,

  To make his English sweet upon his tongue;

  And when he had played his harp and sung,

  His eyes twinkled in his head aright

  As do the stars on a frosty night.

  This worthy friar was called Huberd.

  A MARCHANT was ther with a forked berd,

  In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat,

  Up-on his heed a Flaundrish bever hat;

  His botes clasped faire and fetisly.

  His resons he spak ful solempnely,

  Souninge alway th‘encrees of his winning.

  He wolde the see were kept for any thing

  Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle.

  Wel coude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle.

  This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette;

  Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette,

  So estatly was he of his governaunce,

  With his bargaynes, and with his chevisaunce.

  For sothe he was a worthy man with-alle,

  But sooth to seyn, I noot how men him calle.

  A CLERK ther was of Oxenford also,

  That un-to logik hadde longe y-go.

  As lene was his hors as is a rake,

  And he nas nat right fat, I undertake;

  But loked holwe, and ther-to soberly.

  Ful thredbar was his overest courtepy;

  For he had geten him yet no benefyce,

  Ne was so worldly for to have offyce.

  For him was lever have at his beddes heed

  Twenty bokes, clad in blak or reed,

  Of Aristotle and his philosophye,

  Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrye.

  But al be that he was a philosophre,

  Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre;

  But al that he mighte of his freendes hente,

  On bokes and on lerninge he it spente,

  And bisily gan for the soules preye

  Of hem that yaf him wher-with to scoleye.

  Of studie took he most cure and most hede.

  Noght o word spak he more than was nede,

  And that was seyd in forme and reverence,

  And short and quik, and ful of hy sentence.

  Souninge in moral vertu was his speche,

  And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

  A MERCHANT there was with forked beard,

  In patterned cloth, and high on his horse he sat;

  Upon his head a Flemish beaverfur hat,

  His boots well tied and neat.

  His opinions he pompously offered,

  Proclaiming always the increase of his profit.

  He wanted the pirates at any price expelled

  Between Middleburgh and Orowelle.15

  Well could he exchange French coins.

  This worthy man full well his wit employed:

  No one knew he was in debt,

  So careful was he of his outward impression,

  With his bargains and his (perhaps) shady lending.

  He was a worthy man, all the same;

  But in truth I do not know his name.

  A SCHOLAR there was of Oxford also,

  Who unto logic had himself devoted,

  All lean was his horse as is a rake,

  And he was not fat, I undertake,

  But looked hollow and also soberly.

  Full threadbare was his over cloak,

  For he had received yet no benefice,

  Nor did he worldly work for his daily bread;

  For he would rather have at his bed’s head

  Twenty books clad in black or red,

  Of Aristotle and his philosophy,

  Than robes rich, psaltery or harp.

  Albeit that he was a philosopher,

  Yet had he but little gold in his coffer;

  And all that his friends might him lend,

  On books and learning he it spent,

  And busily did for the souls pray

  Of those who for his tuition gave.

  Of study took he most care and most heed.

  Not one word spoke he more than was needed,

  And that was said in correct form and respect,

  And short and quick, and full of high intellect.

  Resounding in moral virtue was his speech,

  And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.

  A SERGEANT OF THE LAWE, war and wys,

  That often hadde been at the parvys,

  Ther was also, ful riche of excellence.

  Discreet he was, and of greet reverence:

  He semed swich, his wordes weren so wyse.

  Justyce he was ful often in assyse,

  By patente, and by pleyn commissioun;

  For his science, and for his heigh renoun

  Of fees and robes hadde he many oon.

  So greet a purchasour was no-wher noon.

  Al was fee simple to him in effect,

  His purchasing mighte nat been infect.

  No-wher so bisy a man as he ther nas,

  And yet he semed bisier than he was.

  In termes hadde he caas and domes alle,

  That from the tyme of king William were falle.

  Therto he coude endyte, and make a thing,

  Ther coude no wight pinche at his wryting;

  And every statut coude he pleyn by rote.

  He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote

  Girt with a ceint of silk, with barres smale;

  Of his array telle I no lenger tale.

  A FRANKELEYN was in his companye;

  Whyt was his berd, as is the dayesye.

  Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.

  Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn.

  To liven in delyt was ever his wone,

  For he was Epicurus owne sone,

  That heeld opinioun, that pleyn delyt

  Was verraily felicitee parfyt.

  An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;

  Seint Julian he was in his contree.

  His breed, his ale, was alwey after oon;

  A bettre envyned man was no-wher noon.

  With-oute bake mete was never his hous,

  Of fish and flesh, and that so plentyous,

  It snewed in his hous of mete and drinke,


  Of alle deyntees that men coude thinke.

  After the sondry sesons of the yeer,

  A SERGEANT OF THE LAW,16 alert and wise,

  Who had often been at the parvis,17

  There was also, full rich of excellence.

  Discreet he was and worthy of great respect:

  He seemed such, his words were so wise.

  Judge he was full often in assizes cases,18

  With full authority from the king;

  For his knowledge and for his high renown,

  Of fees and robes had he many a one.

  So sharp a wheeler-dealer was nowhere known:

  All contracts were with no strings attached;

  His ownership might not be attacked.

  Nowhere so busy a man as he there was;

  And yet he seemed busier than he was.

  He knew the details of all the cases,

  That from the time of King William had taken place.

  Thereto he could write and draw up papers;

  No one could find fault with his writing,

  And every statute he knew by heart.

  He rode unfancily in a multicolored coat,

  Girt with a cinch of silk with stripes narrow;

  Of his outfit I will no more tell.

  A FRANKLIN19 was in his company.

  White was his beard as is the daisy;

  Of his temperament he was sanguine.20

  Well he loved a breakfast cake soaked in wine.

  To live in delight was ever his custom,

  For he was Epicurus’ own son,

  Who held opinion that complete delight

  Was the true measure of perfection.

  A householder, and a great one, was he;

  Saint Julian21 he was in his country.

  His bread, his ale were always good;

  A better wine-cellared man was nowhere known.

  Without meat pies was never his house,

  Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous

  It rained in his house of meat and drink.

  Of all delicacies that men could think,

  According to the sundry seasons of the year,

  So chaunged he his mete and his soper.

  Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in mewe,

  And many a breem and many a luce in stewe.

  Wo was his cook, but-if his sauce were

  Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his gere.

  His table dormant in his halle alway

  Stood redy covered al the longe day.

  At sessiouns ther was he lord and sire;

  Ful ofte tyme he was knight of the shire.

  An anlas and a gipser al of silk

  Heng at his girdel, whyt as morne milk.

  A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour;

  Was no-wher such a worthy vavasour.

  An HABERDASSHER and a CARPENTER,

  A WEBBE, a DYERE, and a TAPICER,

  Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree,

  Of a solempne and greet fraternitee.

  Ful fresh and newe hir gere apyked was;

  Hir knyves were y-chaped noght with bras,

  But al with silver, wroght ful clene and weel,

  Hir girdles and hir pouches every-deel.

  Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys,

  To sitten in a yeldhalle on a deys.

  Everich, for the wisdom that he can,

  Was shaply for to been an alderman.

  For catel hadde they y-nogh and rente,

  And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente;

  And elles certein were they to blame.

  It is ful fair to been y-clept “ma dame,”

  And goon to vigilyës al bifore,

  And have a mantel royalliche y-bore.

  A COOK they hadde with hem for the nones,

  To boille the chiknes with the marybones,

  And poudre-marchant tart, and galingale.

  Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale.

  He coude roste, and sethe, and broille, and frye,

  Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye.

  But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me,

  That on his shine a mormal hadde he;

  So varied his dinner and his supper.

  Full many a fat partridge had he in coop,

  And many a bream and many a pike in pond.

  Woe to his cook, unless his sauces were

  Pungent and sharp, and ever-ready all his pans and pots.

  His table in his dining hall

  Stood always for his dinner set.22

  At meetings of local justices there he was lord and sire;

  Full often time he was MP for the shire.

  A dagger and a purse all of silk

  Hung at his waist, white as morning milk.

  A sheriff had he been, and an auditor;

  Was nowhere such a worthy landowner.

  A HABERDASHER and a CARPENTER,

  A WEAVER, a DYER and a TAPESTRY-MAKER,

  Were with us also, all clothed in the livery

  Of a distinguished and great parish guild.23

  Full fresh and new their dress uniform was;

  Their knives were mounted not with brass,

  But all with silver, full well made and brightly

  Polished, as were their belts and purses.

  Well seemed each of them a fair burgher

  To sit in guildhall in a place of honor.

  Each one of them could have been

  An alderman.

  For property had they enough and income,

  And their wives would say the same;

  Or else certain were they to blame.

  It is full fair to be called “Madame,”

  And go to church at procession’s head,

  And have a mantle like royalty carried.

  A COOK they had with them for their travel,

  To boil the chickens with the marrowbones

  And spices—poudre-marchant tart and galingale.

  Well could he identify a draught of London ale.

  He could roast and boil and broil and fry,

  Make stews and well bake a pie.

  But great misfortune was it, as it seemed to me,

  That on his shin an open sore had he.

  For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.

  A SHIPMAN was ther, woning fer by weste:

  For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe.

  He rood up-on a rouncy, as he couthe,

  In a gowne of falding to the knee.

  A daggere hanging on a laas hadde he

  Aboute his nekke under his arm adoun.

  The hote somer had maad his hewe al broun;

  And, certeinly, he was a good felawe.

  Ful many a draughte of wyn had he y-drawe

  From Burdeux-ward, whyl that the chapman sleep.

  Of nyce conscience took he no keep.

  If that he faught, and hadde the hyer hond,

  By water he sente hem hoom to every lond.

  But of his craft to rekene wel his tydes,

  His stremes and his daungers him bisydes,

  His herberwe and his mone, his lode-menage,

  Ther nas noon swich from Hulle to Cartage.

  Hardy he was, and wys to undertake;

  With many a tempest hadde his berd been shake.

  He knew wel alle the havenes, as they were,

  From Gootlond to the cape of Finistere,

  And every cryke in Britayne and in Spayne;

  His barge y-cleped was the Maudelayne.

  With us ther was a DOCTOUR OF PHISYK,

  In al this world ne was ther noon him lyk

  To speke of phisik and of surgerye;

  For he was grounded in astronomye.

  He kepte his pacient a ful greet del

  In houres, by his magik naturel.

  Wel coude he fortunen the ascendent

  Of his images for his pacient.

  He knew the cause of everich maladye,

  Were it of hoot or cold,
or moiste, or drye,

  And where engendred, and of what humour;

  He was a verrey parfit practisour.

  The cause y-knowe, and of his harm the rote,

  Anon he yaf the seke man his bote.

  Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries,

  For blancmange, that made he with the best.

  A SHIPMAN24 was there, living far to the west:

  For all I know, he was of Dartmouth.

  He rode upon a sturdy little horse, as best he could,

  In a heavy wool gown reaching to the knee.

  A dagger hanging on a cord had he

  About his neck and down beneath his arm.

  The high summer had made his hue all brown;

  And certainly he was a good fellow.

  Full many a draught of wine had he tapped

  En route from Bordeaux, while the wine merchant slept.

  Of nice conscience he took no heed:

  In a fight, if he had the upper hand,

  He sent them overboard, far from land.

  But of navigation, to reckon well his tides,

  His currents and his hazards him nearby,

  His harbor and his moon, his compass use,

  There was none such from Hull to Carthage.

  Hardy he was, and careful in risks taken;

  With many a tempest had his beard been shaken.

  He knew well all the harbors, as they were,

  From Gotland to the Cape of Finisterre,

  And every creek in Brittany and Spain;

  His ship was called the Magdalen.

  With us there was a PHYSICIAN;

  In all the world there was none like him

  To speak of medicine and of surgery

  For he was grounded in astrology.

  He tended his patient at just the right

  Hours, guided by his magical powers.

  Well could he determine the ascendent

  Of the signs for his patient.25

  He knew the cause of every malady,

  Were it hot or cold or moist or dry,

  And where engendered and of what humor;

  He was a truly perfect practitioner.

  The cause known, and of the malady its origin,

  Quickly he gave the sick man his medicine.

  Full ready had he his apothecaries,

  To sende him drogges and his letuaries,

  For ech of hem made other for to winne;

  Hir frendschipe nas nat newe to biginne.

  Wel knew he th’ olde Esculapius,

  And Deiscorides, and eek Rufus,

  Old Ypocras, Haly, and Galien;

  Serapion, Razis, and Avicen;

  Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn;

  Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn.

  Of his diete mesurable was he,

  For it was of no superfluitee,

  But of greet norissing and digestible.

  His studie was but litel on the bible.

  In sangwin and in pers he clad was al,

  Lyned with taffata and with sendal;

  And yet he was but esy of dispence;