Chaucer's Nuns' Priest's Tale
Thanne spak oure Hoost, with rude speche and boold,
And seyde unto the Nonnes Preest anon,
"Com neer, thou preest, com hyder, thou, sir John,
Telle us swich thyng as may oure hertes glade;
Be blithe, though thou ryde upon a jade.
What thogh thyn hors be bothe foul and lene?
If he wol serve thee, rekke nat a bene!
Looke that thyn herte be murie everemo."
"Yis sir," quod he, "yis, Hoost, so moot I go,
But I be myrie, ywis, I wol be blamed."
And right anon his tale he hath attamed,
And thus he seyde unto us everichon,
This sweete preest, this goodly man sir John.
THE NONNES PREESTES TALE
Heere bigynneth the Nonnes Preestes tale of the Cok and
Hen, Chauntecleer and Pertelote.
1 A povre wydwe, somdel stape in age,
2 Was whilom dwellyng in a narwe cotage
3 Biside a greve, stondynge in a dale.
4 This wydwe, of which I telle yow my tale,
5 Syn thilke day that she was last a wyf,
6 In pacience ladde a ful symple lyf,
7 For litel was hir catel and hir rente.
8 By housbondrie, of swich as God hir sente,
9 She foond hirself and eek hire doghtren two.
10 Thre large sowes hadde she, and namo,
11 Three keen, and eek a sheep that highte Malle.
12 Ful sooty was hir bour and eek hire halle,
13 In which she eet ful many a sklendre meel-
14 Of poynaunt sauce hir neded never a deel.
15 No deyntee morsel passed thurgh hir throte,
16 Hir diete was accordant to hir cote.
17 Repleccioun ne made hir nevere sik,
18 Attempree diete was al hir phisik,
19 And exercise, and hertes suffisaunce.
20 The goute lette hir nothyng for to daunce,
21 N'apoplexie shente nat hir heed.
22 No wyn ne drank she, neither whit ne reed,
23 Hir bord was served moost with whit and blak,
24 Milk and broun breed, in which she foond no lak,
25 Seynd bacoun, and somtyme an ey or tweye,
26 For she was as it were a maner deye.
27 A yeerd she hadde, enclosed al aboute
28 With stikkes, and a drye dych withoute,
29 In which she hadde a Cok, heet Chauntecleer,
30 In al the land of crowyng nas his peer.
31 His voys was murier than the murle orgon
32 On messedayes, that in the chirche gon.
33 Wel sikerer was his crowyng in his logge,
34 Than is a clokke, or an abbey orlogge.
35 By nature he crew eche ascencioun
36 Of the equynoxial in thilke toun;
37 For whan degrees fiftene weren ascended,
38 Thanne crew he, that it myghte nat been amended.
39 His coomb was redder than the fyn coral,
40 And batailled, as it were a castel wal.
41 His byle was blak, and as the jeet it shoon,
42 Lyk asure were hise legges and his toon,
43 Hise nayles whiter than the lylye flour,
44 And lyk the burned gold was his colour.
45 This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce
46 Sevene hennes, for to doon al his plesaunce,
47 Whiche were hise sustres and his paramours,
48 And wonder lyk to hym as of colours;
49 Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir throte
50 Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote.
51 Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire
52 And compaignable, and bar hyrself so faire
53 Syn thilke day that she was seven nyght oold,
54 That trewely she hath the herte in hoold
55 Of Chauntecleer loken in every lith.
56 He loved hir so, that wel was hym therwith.
57 But swiche a joye was it to here hem synge
58 Whan that the brighte sonne gan to sprynge,
59 In sweete accord, "My lief is faren in londe,"-
60 For thilke tyme, as I have understonde,
61 Beestes and briddes koude speke and synge.
62 And so bifel, that in the dawenynge,
63 As Chauntecleer, among hise wyves alle,
64 Sat on his perche, that was in the halle,
65 And next hym sat this faire Pertelote,
66 This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte
67 As man that in his dreem is drecched soore.
68 And whan that Pertelote thus herde hym roore
69 She was agast, and seyde, "O herte deere,
70 What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere?
71 Ye been a verray sleper, fy for shame!"
72 And he answerde and seyde thus, "Madame,
73 I pray yow that ye take it nat agrief.
74 By God, me thoughte I was in swich meschief
75 Right now, that yet myn herte is soore afright.
76 Now God," quod he, "my swevene recche aright,
77 And kepe my body out of foul prisoun.
78 Me mette how that I romed up and doun
79 Withinne our yeerd, wheer as I saugh a beest
80 Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad areest
81 Upon my body, and han had me deed.
82 His colour was bitwixe yelow and reed,
83 And tipped was his tayl and bothe hise eeris;
84 With blak, unlyk the remenant of hise heeris;
85 His snowte smal, with glowynge eyen tweye.
86 Yet of his look, for feere almoost I deye!
87 This caused me my gronyng, doutelees."
88 "Avoy!" quod she, "Fy on yow hertelees!
89 Allas," quod she, "for by that God above
90 Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love!
91 I kan nat love a coward, by my feith,
92 For certes, what so any womman seith,
93 We alle desiren, if it myght bee,
94 To han housbondes hardy, wise, and free,
95 And secree, and no nygard, ne no fool,
96 Ne hym that is agast of every tool,
97 Ne noon avauntour; by that God above,
98 How dorste ye seyn for shame unto youre love
99 That any thyng myghte make yow aferd?
100 Have ye no mannes herte, and han a berd?
101 Allas, and konne ye been agast of swevenys?
102 No thyng, God woot, but vanitee in swevene is!
103 Swevenes engendren of replecciouns,
104 And ofte of fume and of complecciouns,
105 Whan humours been to habundant in a wight.
106 Certes, this dreem which ye han met tonyght
107 Cometh of greet superfluytee
108 Of youre rede colera, pardee,
109 Which causeth folk to dreden in hir dremes
110 Of arwes, and of fyre with rede lemes,
111 Of grete beestes, that they wol hem byte,
112 Of contekes, and of whelpes grete and lyte;
113 Right as the humour of malencolie
114 Causeth ful many a man in sleep to crie
115 For feere of blake beres, or boles blake,
116 Or elles blake develes wole hem take.
117 Of othere humours koude I telle also
118 That werken many a man in sleep ful wo,
119 But I wol passe as lightly as I kan.
120 Lo Catoun, which that was so wys a man,
121 Seyde he nat thus, `ne do no fors of dremes`?
122 Now sire," quod she, "whan ye flee fro the bemes,
123 For goddes love as taak som laxatyf!
124 Up peril of my soule, and of my lyf,
125 I conseille yow the beste, I wol nat lye,
126 That bothe of colere and of malencolye
127 Ye purge yow; and for ye shal nat tarie,
128 Though in this toun is noon apothecarie,
129 I shal myself to herbes techen yow,
130 That shul been for youre hele and for youre prow.
131 And in oure yeerd tho herbes shal I fynde,
132 The whiche han of hir propretee by kynde
133 To purge yow bynethe and eek above.
134 Foryet nat this, for Goddes owene love!
135 Ye been ful coleryk of compleccioun;
136 Ware the sonne in his ascencioun
137 Ne fynde yow nat repleet of humours hoote.
138 And if it do, I dar wel leye a grote
139 That ye shul have a fevere terciane,
140 Or an agu that may be youre bane.
141 A day or two ye shul have digestyves
142 Of wormes, er ye take youre laxatyves
143 Of lawriol, centaure, and fumetere,
144 Or elles of ellebor that groweth there,
145 Of katapuce, or of gaitrys beryis,
146 Of herbe yve, growyng in oure yeerd, ther mery is!
147 Pekke hem up right as they growe, and ete hem yn!
148 Be myrie, housbonde, for youre fader kyn,
149 Dredeth no dreem, I kan sey yow namoore!"
150 "Madame," quod he, "graunt mercy of youre loore,
151 But nathelees, as touchyng Daun Catoun,
152 That hath of wysdom swich a greet renoun,
153 Though that he bad no dremes for to drede,
154 By God, men may in olde bookes rede
155 Of many a man moore of auctorite
156 Than evere Caton was, so moot I thee,
157 That al the revers seyn of this sentence,
158 And han wel founden by experience
159 That dremes been significaciouns
160 As wel of joye as of tribulaciouns
161 That folk enduren in this lif present.
162 Ther nedeth make of this noon argument,
163 The verray preeve sheweth it in dede.
164 Oon of the gretteste auctours that men rede
165 Seith thus, that whilom two felawes wente
166 On pilgrimage in a ful good entente;
167 And happed so, they coomen in a toun
168 Wher as ther was swich congregacioun
169 Of peple, and eek so streit of herbergage,
170 That they ne founde as muche as o cotage
171 In which they bothe myghte logged bee;
172 Wherfore they mosten of necessitee
173 As for that nyght departen compaignye,
174 And ech of hem gooth to his hostelrye,
175 And took his loggyng as it wolde falle.
176 That oon of hem was logged in a stalle,
177 Fer in a yeerd, with oxen of the plough;
178 That oother man was logged wel ynough,
179 As was his aventure or his fortune,
180 That us governeth alle as in commune.
181 And so bifel, that longe er it were day
182 This man mette in his bed, ther as he lay,
183 How that his felawe gan upon hym calle
184 And seyde, `Allas, for in an oxes stalle
185 This nyght I shal be mordred, ther I lye!
186 Now help me, deere brother, or I dye;
187 In alle haste com to me!" he sayde.
188 This man out of his sleep for feere abrayde;
189 But whan that he was wakened of his sleep,
190 He turned hym and took of it no keep.
191 Hym thoughte, his dreem nas but a vanitee.
192 Thus twies in his slepyng dremed hee,
193 And atte thridde tyme yet his felawe
194 Cam, as hym thoughte, and seide, `I am now slawe,
195 Bihoold my bloody woundes depe and wyde;
196 Arys up erly in the morwe-tyde,
197 And at the west gate of the toun,' quod he,
198 `A carte ful of donge ther shaltow se,
199 In which my body is hid ful prively.
200 Do thilke carte arresten boldely;
201 My gold caused my mordre, sooth to sayn.'-
202 And tolde hym every point, how he was slayn,
203 With a ful pitous face, pale of hewe;
204 And truste wel, his dreem he foond ful trewe.
205 For on the morwe, as soone as it was day,
206 To his felawes in he took the way,
207 And whan that he cam to this oxes stalle,
208 After his felawe he bigan to calle.
209 The hostiler answerde hym anon,
210 And seyde, `Sire, your felawe is agon,
211 As soone as day he wente out of the toun.'
212 This man gan fallen in suspecioun,
213 Remembrynge on hise dremes that he mette,
214 And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he lette,
215 Unto the westgate of the toun; and fond
216 A dong carte, as it were to donge lond,
217 That was arrayed in that same wise,
218 As ye han herd the dede man devyse.
219 And with an hardy herte he gan to crye,
220 `Vengeance and justice of this felonye;
221 My felawe mordred is this same myght,
222 And in this carte he lith gapyng upright.
223 I crye out on the ministres,' quod he,
224 `That sholden kepe and reulen this citee!
225 Harrow! allas, heere lith my felawe slayn!'
226 What sholde I moore unto this tale sayn?
227 The peple out-sterte, and caste the cart to grounde,
228 And in the myddel of the dong they founde
229 The dede man, that mordred was al newe.
230 O blisful God, that art so just and trewe!
231 Lo, howe that thou biwreyest mordre alway!
232 Mordre wol out, that se we, day by day.
233 Mordre is so wlatsom and abhomynable
234 To God that is so just and resonable,
235 That he ne wol nat suffre it heled be,
236 Though it abyde a yeer, or two, or thre.
237 Mordre wol out, this my conclusioun.
238 And right anon ministres of that toun
239 Han hent the carter, and so soore hym pyned,
240 And eek the hostiler so soore engyned
241 That they biknewe hire wikkednesse anon,
242 And were anhanged by the nekke bon.
243 Heere may men seen, that dremes been to drede!
244 And certes, in the same book I rede
245 Right in the nexte chapitre after this-
246 I gabbe nat, so have I joye or blis-
247 Two men that wolde han passed over see
248 For certeyn cause, into a fer contree,
249 If that the wynd ne hadde been contrarie,
250 That made hem in a citee for to tarie,
251 That stood ful myrie upon an haven-syde-
252 But on a day, agayn the even-tyde,
253 The wynd gan chaunge, and blew right as hem leste.
254 Jolif and glad they wente unto hir reste,
255 And casten hem ful erly for to saille,
256 But herkneth, to that o man fil a greet mervaille;
257 That oon of hem, in slepyng as he lay,
258 Hym mette a wonder dreem agayn the day.
259 Hym thoughte a man stood by his beddes syde,
260 And hym comanded that he sholde abyde,
261 And seyde hym thus, `If thou tomorwe wende
262 Thow shalt be dreynt; my tale is at an ende.'
263 He wook, and tolde his felawe what he mette,
264 And preyde hym his viage for to lette,
265 As for that day, he preyede hym to byde.
266 His felawe, that lay by his beddes syde,
267 Gan for to laughe and scorned him ful faste.
268 `No dreem,' quod he, `may so myn herte agaste
269 That I wol lette for to do my thynges.
270 I sette nat a straw by thy dremynges,
271 For swevenes been but vanytees and japes.
272 Men dreme al day of owles or of apes,
273 And of many a maze therwithal.
274 Men dreme of thyng that nevere was, ne shal;
275 But sith I see that thou wolt heere abyde
276 And thus forslewthen wilfully thy tyde,
277 God woot it reweth me, and have good day.'
278 And thus he took his leve and wente his way;
279 But er that he hadde half his cours yseyled,
280 Noot I nat why, ne what myschaunce it eyled,
281 But casuelly the shippes botme rente,
282 And ship and men under the water wente
283 In sighte of othere shippes it bisyde,
284 That with hem seyled at the same tyde.
285 And therfore, faire Pertelote so deere,
286 By swiche ensamples olde yet maistow leere,
287 That no man sholde been to recchelees
288 Of dremes, for I seye thee doutelees
289 That many a dreem ful soore is for to drede.
290 Lo, in the lyf of Seint Kenelm I rede,
291 That was Kenulphus sone, the noble kyng,
292 Of Mercenrike how Kenelm mette a thyng.
293 A lite er he was mordred, on a day
294 His mordre in his avysioun he say.
295 His norice hym expowned every deel
296 His swevene, and bad hym for to kepe hym weel
297 For traisoun, but he nas but seven yeer oold,
298 And therfore litel tale hath he toold
299 Of any dreem, so hooly is his herte.
300 By God, I hadde levere than my sherte
301 That ye hadde rad his legende, as have I.
302 Dame Pertelote, I sey yow trewely,
303 Macrobeus, that writ the avisioun
304 In Affrike of the worthy Cipioun,
305 Affermeth dremes, and seith that they been
306 Warnynge of thynges, that men after seen.
307 And forther-moore I pray yow looketh wel
308 In the olde testament of Daniel,
309 If he heeld dremes any vanitee!
310 Reed eek of Joseph, and ther shul ye see
311 Wher dremes be somtyme, I sey nat alle,
312 Warnynge of thynges that shul after falle.
313 Looke of Egipte the kyng, daun Pharao,
314 His baker and his butiller also,
315 Wher they ne felte noon effect in dremes!
316 Whoso wol seken actes of sondry remes
317 May rede of dremes many a wonder thyng.
318 Lo Cresus, which that was of Lyde kyng,
319 Mette he nat that he sat upon a tree,
320 Which signified, he sholde anhanged bee?
321 Lo her Adromacha, Ectores wyf,
322 That day that Ector sholde lese his lyf
323 She dremed on the same nyght biforn
324 How that the lyf of Ector sholde be lorn,
325 If thilke day he wente into bataille.
326 She warned hym, but it myghte nat availle;
327 He wente for to fighte natheles,
328 But he was slayn anon of Achilles.
329 But thilke is al to longe for to telle,
330 And eek it is ny day, I may nat dwelle.
331 Shortly I seye, as for conclusioun,
332 That I shal han of this avisioun
333 Adversitee, and I seye forthermoor
334 That I ne telle of laxatyves no stoor,
335 For they been venymes, I woot it weel,
336 I hem diffye, I love hem never a deel.
337 Now let us speke of myrthe, and stynte al this;
338 Madame Pertelote, so have I blis,
339 Of o thyng God hath sent me large grace,
340 For whan I se the beautee of youre face,
341 Ye been so scarlet reed aboute youre eyen,
342 It maketh al my drede for to dyen.
343 For, al so siker as In principio
344 Mulier est hominis confusio,-
345 Madame, the sentence of this Latyn is,
346 `Womman is mannes joye and al his blis.'
347 For whan I felle a-nyght your softe syde,
348 Al be it that I may nat on yow ryde,
349 For that oure perche is maad so narwe, allas!
350 I am so ful of joye and of solas,
351 That I diffye bothe swevene and dreem."
352 And with that word he fly doun fro the beem,
353 For it was day, and eke hise hennes alle;
354 And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle,
355 For he hadde founde a corn lay in the yerd.
356 Real he was, he was namoore aferd;
357 And fethered Pertelote twenty tyme,
358 And trad as ofte, er that it was pryme.
359 He looketh as it were a grym leoun,
360 And on hise toos he rometh up and doun,
361 Hym deigned nat to sette his foot to grounde.
362 He chukketh whan he hath a corn yfounde,
363 And to hym rennen thanne hise wyves alle.
364 Thus roial as a prince is in an halle,
365 Leve I this Chauntecleer in his pasture,
366 And after wol I telle his aventure.
367 Whan that the monthe in which the world bigan
368 That highte March, whan God first maked man,
369 Was compleet, and passed were also
370 Syn March bigan, thritty dayes and two,
371 Bifel that Chauntecleer in al his pryde,
372 Hise sevene wyves walkynge by his syde,
373 Caste up hise eyen to the brighte sonne,
374 That in the signe of Taurus hadde yronne
375 Twenty degrees and oon, and somwhat moore;
376 And knew by kynde, and by noon oother loore,
377 That it was pryme, and crew with blisful stevene.
378 "The sonne," he seyde, "is clomben upon hevene
379 Fourty degrees and oon, and moore, ywis.
380 Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis,
381 Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they synge,
382 And se the fresshe floures how they sprynge.
383 Ful is myn herte of revel and solas."
384 But sodeynly hym fil a sorweful cas,
385 For evere the latter ende of joye is wo.
386 God woot that worldly joye is soone ago,
387 And if a rethor koude faire endite,
388 He in a cronycle saufly myghte it write,
389 As for a sovereyn notabilitee.
390 Now every wys man, lat him herkne me:
391 This storie is al so trewe, I undertake,
392 As is the book of Launcelot de Lake,
393 That wommen holde in ful greet reverence.
394 Now wol I come agayn to my sentence.
395 A colfox, ful of sly iniquitee,
396 That in the grove hadde wonned yeres three,
397 By heigh ymaginacioun forn-cast,
398 The same nyght thurghout the hegges brast
399 Into the yerd, ther Chauntecleer the faire
400 Was wont, and eek hise wyves, to repaire;
401 And in a bed of wortes stille he lay,
402 Til it was passed undren of the day,
403 Waitynge his tyme on Chauntecleer to falle,
404 As gladly doon thise homycides alle
405 That in await liggen to mordre men.
406 O false mordrour, lurkynge in thy den!
407 O newe Scariot! newe Genyloun!
408 False dissymulour, O Greek synoun
409 That broghtest Troye al outrely to sorwe!
410 O Chauntecleer, acursed be that morwe
411 That thou into that yerd flaugh fro the bemes!
412 Thou were ful wel ywarned by thy dremes
413 That thilke day was perilous to thee;
414 But what that God forwoot moot nedes bee,
415 After the opinioun of certein clerkis.
416 Witnesse on hym, that any parfit clerk is,
417 That in scole is greet altercacioun
418 In this mateere, and greet disputisoun,
419 And hath been of an hundred thousand men;-
420 But I ne kan nat bulte it to the bren
421 As kan the hooly doctour Augustyn,
422 Or Boece or the Bisshop Bradwardyn,-
423 Wheither that Goddes worthy forwityng
424 Streyneth me nedefully to doon a thyng,
425 (Nedely clepe I symple necessitee)
426 Or elles, if free choys be graunted me
427 To do that same thyng, or do it noght,
428 Though God forwoot it, er that it was wroght;
429 Or if his wityng streyneth never a deel
430 But by necessitee condicioneel,-
431 I wel nat han to do of swich mateere;
432 My tale is of a Cok, as ye may heere,
433 That took his conseil of his wyf, with sorwe,
434 To walken in the yerd, upon that morwe
435 That he hadde met that dreem, that I of tolde.
436 Wommennes conseils been ful ofte colde;
437 Wommannes conseil broghte us first to wo,
438 And made Adam fro Paradys to go,
439 Ther as he was ful myrie, and wel at ese.
440 But for I noot to whom it myght displese,
441 If I conseil of wommen wolde blame,
442 Passe over, for I seye it in my game.
443 Rede auctours, wher they trete of swich mateere,
444 And what they seyn of wommen ye may heere.
445 Thise been the cokkes wordes, and nat myne,
446 I kan noon harm of no womman divyne.
447 Faire in the soond, to bathe hire myrily,
448 Lith Pertelote, and alle hir sustres by,
449 Agayn the sonne; and Chauntecleer so free
450 Soony murier than the mermayde in the see-
451 For Phisiologus seith sikerly
452 How that they syngen wel and myrily.
453 And so bifel, that as he cast his eye
454 Among the wortes on a boterflye,
455 He was war of this fox that lay ful lowe.
456 Nothyng ne liste hym thanne for to crowe,
457 But cride anon, "cok! cok!" and up he sterte,
458 As man that was affrayed in his herte.
459 For natureelly a beest desireth flee
460 Fro his contrarie, if he may it see,
461 Though he never erst hadde seyn it with his eye.
462 This Chauntecleer, whan he gan hym espye,
463 He wolde han fled, but that the fox anon
464 Seyde, "Gentil sire, allas, wher wol ye gon?
465 Be ye affrayed of me that am youre freend?
466 Now certes, I were worse than a feend
467 If I to yow wolde harm or vileynye.
468 I am nat come your conseil for tespye,
469 But trewely, the cause of my comynge
470 Was oonly for to herkne how that ye synge.
471 For trewely, ye have as myrie a stevene
472 As any aungel hath that is in hevene.
473 Therwith ye han in musyk moore feelynge
474 Than hadde Boece, or any that kan synge.
475 My lord youre fader-God his soule blesse!-
476 And eek youre mooder, of hir gentillesse
477 Han in myn hous ybeen, to my greet ese;
478 And certes, sire, ful fayn wolde I yow plese.
479 But for men speke of syngyng, I wol seye,
480 So moote I brouke wel myne eyen tweye,
481 Save yow I herde nevere man yet synge
482 As dide youre fader in the morwenynge.
483 Certes, it was of herte al that he song!
484 And for to make his voys the moore strong,
485 He wolde so peyne hym, that with bothe hise eyen
486 He moste wynke, so loude he solde cryen,
487 And stonden on his tiptoon therwithal,
488 And strecche forth his nekke long and smal.
489 And eek he was of swich discrecioun,
490 That ther nas no man in no regioun,
491 That hym in song or wisedom myghte passe.
492 I have wel rad in daun Burnel the Asse
493 Among hise vers, how that ther was a cok,
494 For that a presstes sone yaf hym a knok,
495 Upon his leg, whil he was yong and nyce,
496 He made hym for to lese his benefice.
497 But certeyn, ther nys no comparisoun
498 Bitwixe the wisedom and discrecioun
499 Of youre fader, and of his subtiltee.
500 Now syngeth, sire, for seinte charitee,
501 Lat se konne ye youre fader countrefete!"
502 This Chauntecleer hise wynges gan to bete,
503 As man that koude his traysoun nat espie,
504 So was he ravysshed with his flaterie.
505 Allas, ye lordes! many a fals flatour
506 Is in youre courtes, and many a losengeour,
507 That plesen yow wel moore, by my feith,
508 Than he that soothfastnesse unto yow seith.
509 Redeth Ecclesiaste of Flaterye;
510 Beth war, ye lordes, of hir trecherye.
511 This Chauntecleer stood hye upon his toos,
512 Strecchynge his nekke, and heeld hise eyen cloos,
513 And gan to crowe loude for the nones,
514 And daun Russell the fox stirte up atones,
515 And by the gargat hente Chauntecleer,
516 And on his bak toward the wode hym beer,
517 For yet ne was ther no man that hym sewed.
518 O destinee, that mayst nat been eschewed!
519 Allas, that Chauntecleer fleigh fro the bemes!
520 Allas, his wyf ne roghte nat of dremes!
521 And on a Friday fil al this meschaunce.
522 O Venus, that art goddesse of plesaunce!
523 Syn that thy servant was this Chauntecleer,
524 And in thy servyce dide al his poweer,
525 Moore for delit, than world to multiplye,
526 Why woltestow suffre hym on thy day to dye?
527 O Gaufred, deere Maister soverayn!
528 That whan thy worthy kyng Richard was slayn
529 With shot, compleynedest his deeth so soore,
530 Why ne hadde I now thy sentence and thy loore,
531 The Friday for to chide, as diden ye?-
532 For on a Friday soothyl slayn was he.
533 Thanne wolde I shewe yow, how that I koude pleyne
534 For Chauntecleres drede and for his peyne.
535 Certes, swich cry ne lamentacioun
536 Was nevere of ladyes maad, whan Ylioun
537 Was wonne, and Pirrus with his streite swerd,
538 Whan he hadde hent kyng Priam by the berd,
539 And slayn hym, as seith us Eneydos,
540 As maden alle the hennes in the clos,
541 Whan they had seyn of Chauntecleer the sighte.
542 But sovereynly dame Pertelote shrighte
543 Ful louder than dide Hasdrubales wyf,
544 Whan that hir housbonde hadde lost his lyf,
545 And that the Romayns hadde brend Cartage;
546 She was so ful of torment and of rage
547 That wilfully into the fyr she sterte,
548 And brende hirselven with a stedefast herte.
549 O woful hennes, right so criden ye,
550 As whan that Nero brende the Citee
551 Of Rome, cryden senatoures wyves,
552 For that hir husbondes losten alle hir lyves,
553 Withouten gilt this Nero hath hem slayn.
554 Now I wole turne to my tale agayn.
555 This sely wydwe, and eek hir doghtres two,
556 Herden thise hennes crie, and maken wo,
557 And out at dores stirten they anon,
558 And seyn the fox toward the grove gon,
559 And bar upon his bak the cok away;
560 And cryden, "Out! harrow! and weylaway!
561 Ha! ha! the fox!" and after hym they ran,
562 And eek with staves many another man,
563 Ran Colle, oure dogge, and Talbot, and Gerland,
564 And Malkyn with a dystaf in hir hand,
565 Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges,
566 So were they fered for berkying of the dogges,
567 And shoutyng of the men and wommen eek,
568 They ronne so, hem thoughte hir herte breek;
569 They yolleden as feends doon in helle,
570 The dokes cryden as men wolde hem quelle,
571 The gees for feere flowen over the trees,
572 Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees,
573 So hydous was the noyse, a! benedicitee!
574 Certes, he Jakke Straw and his meynee
575 Ne made nevere shoutes half so shille,
576 Whan that they wolden any Flemyng kille,
577 As thilke day was maad upon the fox.
578 Of bras they broghten bemes and of box,
579 Of horn, of boon, in whiche they blewe and powped,
580 And therwithal they skriked and they howped,
581 It seemed as that hevene sholde falle!
582 Now, goode men, I pray yow, herkneth alle.
583 Lo, how Fortune turneth sodeynly
584 The hope and pryde eek of hir enemy!
585 This cok, that lay upon the foxes bak,
586 In al his drede unto the fox he spak,
587 And seyde, "Sire, if that I were as ye,
588 Yet wolde I seyn, as wys God helpe me,
589 `Turneth agayn, ye proude cherles alle,
590 A verray pestilence upon yow falle!
591 Now am I come unto the wodes syde,
592 Maugree youre heed, the cok shal heere abyde,
593 I wol hym ete, in feith, and that anon,'"
594 The fox answerde, "In feith, it shal be don."
595 And as he spak that word, al sodeynly
596 This cok brak from his mouth delyverly,
597 And heighe upon a tree he fleigh anon.
598 And whan the fox saugh that he was gon,
599 "Allas!" quod he, "O Chauntecleer, allas!
600 I have to yow," quod he, "ydoon trespas,
601 In as muche as I maked yow aferd,
602 Whan I yow hente and broght into this yerd.
603 But, sire, I dide it of no wikke entente,
604 Com doun, and I shal telle yow what I mente;
605 I shal seye sooth to yow, God help me so."
606 "Nay, thanne," quod he, "I shrewe us bothe two,
607 And first I shrewe myself bothe blood and bones,
608 If thou bigyle me ofter than ones.
609 Thou shalt namoore, thurgh thy flaterye,
610 Do me to synge and wynke with myn eye;
611 For he that wynketh whan he sholde see,
612 Al wilfully, God lat him nevere thee."
613 "Nay," quod the fox, "but God yeve hym meschaunce,
614 That is so undiscreet of governaunce,
615 That jangleth, whan he sholde holde his pees."
616 Lo, swich it is for to be recchelees,
617 And necligent, and truste on flaterye!
618 But ye that holden this tale a folye,
619 As of a fox, or of a cok and hen,
620 Taketh the moralite, goode men;
621 For seint Paul seith, that al that writen is,
622 To oure doctrine it is ywrite, ywis.
623 Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille.
624 Now goode God, if that it be thy wille,
625 As seith my Lord, so make us alle goode men,
626 And brynge us to his heighe blisse. Amen.
627 Heere is ended the Nonnes Preestes tale.