THE PROLOGUE.
“Ho!” quoth the Knight, “good sir, no more of this;That ye have said is right enough, y-wis,* *of a suretyAnd muche more; for little heavinessIs right enough to muche folk, I guess.I say for me, it is a great disease,* *source of distress, annoyanceWhere as men have been in great wealth and ease,To hearen of their sudden fall, alas!And the contrary is joy and great solas,* *delight, comfortAs when a man hath been in poor estate,And climbeth up, and waxeth fortunate,And there abideth in prosperity;Such thing is gladsome, as it thinketh me,And of such thing were goodly for to tell.”
“Yea,” quoth our Hoste, “by Saint Paule’s bell.Ye say right sooth; this monk hath clapped* loud; *talkedHe spake how Fortune cover’d with a cloudI wot not what, and als’ of a tragedyRight now ye heard: and pardie no remedyIt is for to bewaile, nor complainThat that is done, and also it is pain,As ye have said, to hear of heaviness.Sir Monk, no more of this, so God you bless;Your tale annoyeth all this company;Such talking is not worth a butterfly,For therein is there no sport nor game;Therefore, Sir Monke, Dan Piers by your name,I pray you heart’ly, tell us somewhat else,For sickerly, n’ere* clinking of your bells, *were it not for theThat on your bridle hang on every side,By heaven’s king, that for us alle died,I should ere this have fallen down for sleep,Although the slough had been never so deep;Then had your tale been all told in vain.For certainly, as these clerkes sayn,Where as a man may have no audience,Nought helpeth it to telle his sentence.And well I wot the substance is in me,If anything shall well reported be.Sir, say somewhat of hunting, <1> I you pray.”
“Nay,” quoth the Monk, “I have *no lust to play;* *no fondness forNow let another tell, as I have told.” jesting*Then spake our Host with rude speech and bold,And said unto the Nunne’s Priest anon,“Come near, thou Priest, come hither, thou Sir John, <2>Tell us such thing as may our heartes glade.* *gladdenBe blithe, although thou ride upon a jade.What though thine horse be bothe foul and lean?If he will serve thee, reck thou not a bean;Look that thine heart be merry evermo’.”
“Yes, Host,” quoth he, “so may I ride or go,But* I be merry, y-wis I will be blamed.” *unlessAnd right anon his tale he hath attamed* *commenced <3>And thus he said unto us every one,This sweete priest, this goodly man, Sir John.
Notes to the Prologue to the Nun’s Priest’s Tale
1. The request is justified by the description of Monk in thePrologue as “an out-rider, that loved venery.”
2. On this Tyrwhitt remarks; “I know not how it has happened,that in the principal modern languages, John, or its equivalent,is a name of contempt or at least of slight. So the Italians use‘Gianni,’ from whence ‘Zani;’ the Spaniards ‘Juan,’ as ‘BoboJuan,’ a foolish John; the French ‘Jean,’ with various additions;and in English, when we call a man ‘a John,’ we do not mean itas a title of honour.” The title of “Sir” was usually given bycourtesy to priests.
3. Attamed: commenced, broached. Compare French, “entamer”,to cut the first piece off a joint; thence to begin.
THE TALE. <1>
A poor widow, *somedeal y-stept* in age, *somewhat advanced*Was whilom dwelling in a poor cottage,Beside a grove, standing in a dale.This widow, of which I telle you my tale,Since thilke day that she was last a wife,In patience led a full simple life,For little was *her chattel and her rent.* *her goods and her income*By husbandry* of such as God her sent, *thrifty managementShe found* herself, and eke her daughters two. *maintainedThree large sowes had she, and no mo’;Three kine, and eke a sheep that highte Mall.Full sooty was her bow’r,* and eke her hall, *chamberIn which she ate full many a slender meal.Of poignant sauce knew she never a deal.* *whitNo dainty morsel passed through her throat;Her diet was *accordant to her cote.* *in keeping with her cottage*Repletion her made never sick;Attemper* diet was all her physic, *moderateAnd exercise, and *hearte’s suffisance.* *contentment of heart*The goute *let her nothing for to dance,* *did not prevent herNor apoplexy shente* not her head. from dancing* *hurtNo wine drank she, neither white nor red:Her board was served most with white and black,Milk and brown bread, in which she found no lack,Seind* bacon, and sometimes an egg or tway; *singedFor she was as it were *a manner dey.* *kind of day labourer* <2>A yard she had, enclosed all aboutWith stickes, and a drye ditch without,In which she had a cock, hight Chanticleer;In all the land of crowing *n’as his peer.* *was not his equal*His voice was merrier than the merry orgon,* *organ <3>On masse days that in the churches gon.Well sickerer* was his crowing in his lodge, *more punctual*Than is a clock, or an abbay horloge.* *clock <4>By nature he knew each ascensionOf th’ equinoctial in thilke town;For when degrees fiftene were ascended,Then crew he, that it might not be amended.His comb was redder than the fine coral,Embattell’d <5> as it were a castle wall.His bill was black, and as the jet it shone;Like azure were his legges and his tone;* *toesHis nailes whiter than the lily flow’r,And like the burnish’d gold was his colour,This gentle cock had in his governanceSev’n hennes, for to do all his pleasance,Which were his sisters and his paramours,And wondrous like to him as of colours.Of which the fairest-hued in the throatWas called Damoselle Partelote,Courteous she was, discreet, and debonair,And companiable,* and bare herself so fair, *sociableSince the day that she sev’n night was old,That truely she had the heart in holdOf Chanticleer, locked in every lith;* *limbHe lov’d her so, that well was him therewith,But such a joy it was to hear them sing,When that the brighte sunne gan to spring,In sweet accord, *“My lefe is fare in land.”* <6> *my love isFor, at that time, as I have understand, gone abroad*Beastes and birdes coulde speak and sing.
And so befell, that in a dawening,As Chanticleer among his wives allSat on his perche, that was in the hall,And next him sat this faire Partelote,This Chanticleer gan groanen in his throat,As man that in his dream is dretched* sore, *oppressedAnd when that Partelote thus heard him roar,She was aghast,* and saide, “Hearte dear, *afraidWhat aileth you to groan in this mannere?Ye be a very sleeper, fy for shame!”And he answer’d and saide thus; “Madame,I pray you that ye take it not agrief;* *amiss, in umbrageBy God, *me mette* I was in such mischief,** *I dreamed* **troubleRight now, that yet mine heart is sore affright’.Now God,” quoth he, “my sweven* read aright *dream, vision.And keep my body out of foul prisoun.*Me mette,* how that I roamed up and down *I dreamed*Within our yard, where as I saw a beastWas like an hound, and would have *made arrest* *siezed*Upon my body, and would have had me dead.His colour was betwixt yellow and red;And tipped was his tail, and both his ears,With black, unlike the remnant of his hairs.His snout was small, with glowing eyen tway;Yet of his look almost for fear I dey;* *diedThis caused me my groaning, doubteless.”
“Away,” <7> quoth she, “fy on you, hearteless!* *cowardAlas!” quoth she, “for, by that God above!Now have ye lost my heart and all my love;I cannot love a coward, by my faith.For certes, what so any woman saith,We all desiren, if it mighte be,To have husbandes hardy, wise, and free,And secret,* and no niggard nor no fool, *discreetNor him that is aghast* of every tool,** *afraid **rag, trifleNor no avantour,* by that God above! *braggartHow durste ye for shame say to your loveThat anything might make you afear’d?Have ye no manne’s heart, and have a beard?Alas! and can ye be aghast of swevenes?* *dreamsNothing but vanity, God wot, in sweven is,Swevens *engender of repletions,* *are caused by over-eating*And oft of fume,* and of complexions, *drunkennessWhen humours be too abundant in a wight.Certes this dream, which ye have mette tonight,Cometh of the great supefluityOf youre rede cholera,* pardie, *bileWhich causeth folk to dreaden in their dreamsOf arrows, and of fire with redde beams,Of redde beastes, that they will them bite,Of conteke,* and of whelpes great and lite;** *contention **littleRight as the humour of melancholyCauseth full many a man in sleep to cry,For fear of bulles, or of beares blake,Or elles that black devils will them take,Of other humours could I tell also,That worke many a man in sleep much woe;That I will pass as lightly as I can.Lo, Cato, which that was so wise a man,Said he not thus, *‘Ne do no force of* dreams,’<8> *attach no weight to*Now, Sir,” quoth she, “when we fly from these beams,For Godde’s love, as take some laxatife;On peril of my soul, and of my life,I counsel you the best, I will not lie,That both of choler, and melancholy,Ye purge you; and, for ye shall not tarry,Though in this town is no apothecary,I shall myself two herbes teache you,That shall be for your health, and for your prow;* *profitAnd in our yard the herbes shall I find,The which have of their property by kind* *natureTo purge you beneath, and eke above.Sire, forget not this for Godde’s love;Ye be full choleric of complexion;Ware that the sun, in his ascension,You finde not replete of humours hot;And if it do, I dare well lay a groat,That ye shall have a fever tertiane,Or else an ague, that may be your bane,A day or two ye shall have digestivesOf wormes, ere ye take your laxatives,Of laurel, centaury, <9> and fumeterere, <10>Or else of elder-berry, that groweth there,Of catapuce, <11> or of the gaitre-berries, <12>Or herb ivy growing in our yard, that merry is:Pick them right as they grow, and eat them in,Be merry, husband, for your father’s kin;Dreade no dream; I can say you no more.”
“Madame,” quoth he, “grand mercy of your lore,But natheless, as touching *Dan Catoun,* *CatoThat hath of wisdom such a great renown,Though that he bade no dreames for to dread,By God, men may in olde bookes readOf many a man more of authorityThan ever Cato was, so may I the,* *thriveThat all the reverse say of his sentence,* *opinionAnd have well founden by experienceThat dreames be significationsAs well of joy, as tribulationsThat folk enduren in this life present.There needeth make of this no argument;The very preve* sheweth it indeed. *trial, experienceOne of the greatest authors that men read <13>Saith thus, that whilom two fellowes wentOn pilgrimage in a full good intent;And happen’d so, they came into a townWhere there was such a congregatiounOf people, and eke so *strait of herbergage,* *without lodging*That they found not as much as one cottageIn which they bothe might y-lodged be:Wherefore they musten of necessity,As for that night, departe company;And each of them went to his hostelry,* *innAnd took his lodging as it woulde fall.The one of them was lodged in a stall,Far in a yard, with oxen of the plough;That other man was lodged well enow,As was his aventure, or his fortune,That us governeth all, as in commune.And so befell, that, long ere it were day,This man mette* in his bed, there: as he lay, *dreamedHow that his fellow gan upon him call,And said, ‘Alas! for in an ox’s stallThis night shall I be murder’d, where I lieNow help me, deare brother, or I die;In alle haste come to me,’ he said.This man out of his sleep for fear abraid;* *startedBut when that he was wak’d out of his sleep,He turned him, and *took of this no keep;* *paid this no attention*He thought his dream was but a vanity.Thus twies* in his sleeping dreamed he, *twiceAnd at the thirde time yet his fellaw againCame, as he thought, and said, ‘I am now slaw;* *slainBehold my bloody woundes, deep and wide.Arise up early, in the morning, tide,And at the west gate of the town,’ quoth he,‘A carte full of dung there shalt: thou see,In which my body is hid privily.Do thilke cart arroste* boldely. *stopMy gold caused my murder, sooth to sayn.’And told him every point how he was slain,With a full piteous face, and pale of hue.
“And, truste well, his dream he found full true;For on the morrow, as soon as it was day,To his fellowes inn he took his way;And when that he came to this ox’s stall,After his fellow he began to call.The hostelere answered him anon,And saide, ‘Sir, your fellow is y-gone,As soon as day he went out of the town.’This man gan fallen in suspicioun,Rememb’ring on his dreames that he mette,* *dreamedAnd forth he went, no longer would he let,* *delayUnto the west gate of the town, and fand* *foundA dung cart, as it went for to dung land,That was arrayed in the same wiseAs ye have heard the deade man devise;* *describeAnd with an hardy heart he gan to cry,‘Vengeance and justice of this felony:My fellow murder’d in this same nightAnd in this cart he lies, gaping upright.I cry out on the ministers,’ quoth he.‘That shoulde keep and rule this city;Harow! alas! here lies my fellow slain.’What should I more unto this tale sayn?The people out start, and cast the cart to groundAnd in the middle of the dung they foundThe deade man, that murder’d was all new.O blissful God! that art so good and true,Lo, how that thou bewray’st murder alway.Murder will out, that see we day by day.Murder is so wlatsom* and abominable *loathsomeTo God, that is so just and reasonable,That he will not suffer it heled* be; *concealed <14>Though it abide a year, or two, or three,Murder will out, this is my conclusioun,And right anon, the ministers of the townHave hent* the carter, and so sore him pined,** *seized **torturedAnd eke the hostelere so sore engined,* *rackedThat they beknew* their wickedness anon, *confessedAnd were hanged by the necke bone.
“Here may ye see that dreames be to dread.And certes in the same book I read,Right in the nexte chapter after this(I gabbe* not, so have I joy and bliss), *talk idlyTwo men that would, have passed over sea,For certain cause, into a far country,If that the wind not hadde been contrary,That made them in a city for to tarry,That stood full merry upon an haven side;But on a day, against the even-tide,The wind gan change, and blew right *as them lest.* *as they wished*Jolly and glad they wente to their rest,And caste* them full early for to sail. *resolvedBut to the one man fell a great marvailThat one of them, in sleeping as he lay,He mette* a wondrous dream, against the day: *dreamedHe thought a man stood by his bedde’s side,And him commanded that he should abide;And said him thus; ‘If thou to-morrow wend,Thou shalt be drown’d; my tale is at an end.’He woke, and told his follow what he mette,And prayed him his voyage for to let;* *delayAs for that day, he pray’d him to abide.His fellow, that lay by his bedde’s side,Gan for to laugh, and scorned him full fast.‘No dream,’ quoth he,’may so my heart aghast,* *frightenThat I will lette* for to do my things.* *delayI sette not a straw by thy dreamings,For swevens* be but vanities and japes.** *dreams **jokes,deceitsMen dream all day of owles and of apes,And eke of many a maze* therewithal; *wild imaginingMen dream of thing that never was, nor shall.But since I see, that thou wilt here abide,And thus forslothe* wilfully thy tide,** *idle away **timeGod wot, *it rueth me;* and have good day.’ *I am sorry for it*And thus he took his leave, and went his way.But, ere that he had half his course sail’d,I know not why, nor what mischance it ail’d,But casually* the ship’s bottom rent, *by accidentAnd ship and man under the water went,In sight of other shippes there besideThat with him sailed at the same tide.
“And therefore, faire Partelote so dear,By such examples olde may’st thou lear,* *learnThat no man shoulde be too reckelessOf dreames, for I say thee doubteless,That many a dream full sore is for to dread.Lo, in the life of Saint Kenelm <15> I read,That was Kenulphus’ son, the noble kingOf Mercenrike, <16> how Kenelm mette a thing.A little ere he was murder’d on a day,His murder in his vision he say.* *sawHis norice* him expounded every deal** *nurse **partHis sweven, and bade him to keep* him well *guardFor treason; but he was but seven years old,And therefore *little tale hath he told* *he attached littleOf any dream, so holy was his heart. significance to*By God, I hadde lever than my shirtThat ye had read his legend, as have I.Dame Partelote, I say you truely,Macrobius, that wrote the visionIn Afric’ of the worthy Scipion, <17>Affirmeth dreames, and saith that they be‘Warnings of thinges that men after see.And furthermore, I pray you looke wellIn the Old Testament, of Daniel,If he held dreames any vanity.Read eke of Joseph, and there shall ye seeWhether dreams be sometimes (I say not all)Warnings of thinges that shall after fall.Look of Egypt the king, Dan Pharaoh,His baker and his buteler also,Whether they felte none effect* in dreams. *significanceWhoso will seek the acts of sundry remes* *realmsMay read of dreames many a wondrous thing.Lo Croesus, which that was of Lydia king,Mette he not that he sat upon a tree,Which signified he shoulde hanged be? <18>Lo here, Andromache, Hectore’s wife, <19>That day that Hector shoulde lose his life,She dreamed on the same night beforn,How that the life of Hector should be lorn,* *lostIf thilke day he went into battaile;She warned him, but it might not avail;He wente forth to fighte natheless,And was y-slain anon of Achilles.But thilke tale is all too long to tell;And eke it is nigh day, I may not dwell.Shortly I say, as for conclusion,That I shall have of this avisionAdversity; and I say furthermore,That I ne *tell of laxatives no store,* *hold laxativesFor they be venomous, I wot it well; of no value*I them defy,* I love them never a del.** *distrust **whit
“But let us speak of mirth, and stint* all this; *ceaseMadame Partelote, so have I bliss,Of one thing God hath sent me large* grace; liberalFor when I see the beauty of your face,Ye be so scarlet-hued about your eyen,I maketh all my dreade for to dien,For, all so sicker* as In principio,<20> *certainMulier est hominis confusio.<21>Madam, the sentence* of of this Latin is, *meaningWoman is manne’s joy and manne’s bliss.For when I feel at night your softe side, —Albeit that I may not on you ride,For that our perch is made so narrow, Alas!I am so full of joy and of solas,* *delightThat I defy both sweven and eke dream.”And with that word he flew down from the beam,For it was day, and eke his hennes all;And with a chuck he gan them for to call,For he had found a corn, lay in the yard.Royal he was, he was no more afear’d;He feather’d Partelote twenty time,And as oft trode her, ere that it was prime.He looked as it were a grim lion,And on his toes he roamed up and down;He deigned not to set his feet to ground;He chucked, when he had a corn y-found,And to him ranne then his wives all.Thus royal, as a prince is in his hall,Leave I this Chanticleer in his pasture;And after will I tell his aventure.
When that the month in which the world began,That highte March, when God first maked man,Was complete, and y-passed were also,Since March ended, thirty days and two,Befell that Chanticleer in all his pride,His seven wives walking him beside,Cast up his eyen to the brighte sun,That in the sign of Taurus had y-runTwenty degrees and one, and somewhat more;He knew by kind,* and by none other lore,** *nature **learningThat it was prime, and crew with blissful steven.* *voice“The sun,” he said, “is clomben up in heavenTwenty degrees and one, and more y-wis.* *assuredlyMadame Partelote, my worlde’s bliss,Hearken these blissful birdes how they sing,And see the freshe flowers how they spring;Full is mine heart of revel and solace.”But suddenly him fell a sorrowful case;* *casualtyFor ever the latter end of joy is woe:God wot that worldly joy is soon y-go:And, if a rhetor* coulde fair indite, *oratorHe in a chronicle might it safely write,As for *a sov’reign notability* *a thing supremely notable*Now every wise man, let him hearken me;This story is all as true, I undertake,As is the book of Launcelot du Lake,That women hold in full great reverence.Now will I turn again to my sentence.
A col-fox, <22> full of sly iniquity,That in the grove had wonned* yeares three, *dweltBy high imagination forecast,The same night thorough the hedges brast* *burstInto the yard, where Chanticleer the fairWas wont, and eke his wives, to repair;And in a bed of wortes* still he lay, *cabbagesTill it was passed undern <23> of the day,Waiting his time on Chanticleer to fall:As gladly do these homicides all,That in awaite lie to murder men.O false murd’rer! Rouking* in thy den! *crouching, lurkingO new Iscariot, new Ganilion! <24>O false dissimuler, O Greek Sinon,<25>That broughtest Troy all utterly to sorrow!O Chanticleer! accursed be the morrowThat thou into thy yard flew from the beams;* *raftersThou wert full well y-warned by thy dreamsThat thilke day was perilous to thee.But what that God forewot* must needes be, *foreknowsAfter th’ opinion of certain clerkes.Witness on him that any perfect clerk is,That in school is great altercationIn this matter, and great disputation,And hath been of an hundred thousand men.But I ne cannot *boult it to the bren,* *examine it thoroughly <26>*As can the holy doctor Augustine,Or Boece, or the bishop Bradwardine,<27>Whether that Godde’s worthy foreweeting* *foreknowledge*Straineth me needly* for to do a thing *forces me*(Needly call I simple necessity),Or elles if free choice be granted meTo do that same thing, or do it not,Though God forewot* it ere that it was wrought; *knew in advanceOr if *his weeting straineth never a deal,* *his knowing constrainsBut by necessity conditionel. not at all*I will not have to do of such mattere;My tale is of a cock, as ye may hear,That took his counsel of his wife, with sorrow,To walken in the yard upon the morrowThat he had mette the dream, as I you told.Womane’s counsels be full often cold;* *mischievous, unwiseWomane’s counsel brought us first to woe,And made Adam from Paradise to go,There as he was full merry and well at case.But, for I n’ot* to whom I might displease *know notIf I counsel of women woulde blame,Pass over, for I said it in my game.* *jestRead authors, where they treat of such mattereAnd what they say of women ye may hear.These be the cocke’s wordes, and not mine;I can no harm of no woman divine.* *conjecture, imagineFair in the sand, to bathe* her merrily, *baskLies Partelote, and all her sisters by,Against the sun, and Chanticleer so freeSang merrier than the mermaid in the sea;For Physiologus saith sickerly,* *certainlyHow that they singe well and merrily. <28>And so befell that, as he cast his eyeAmong the wortes,* on a butterfly, *cabbagesHe was ware of this fox that lay full low.Nothing *ne list him thenne* for to crow, *he had no inclination*But cried anon “Cock! cock!” and up he start,As man that was affrayed in his heart.For naturally a beast desireth fleeFrom his contrary,* if be may it see, *enemyThough he *ne’er erst* had soon it with his eye *never before*This Chanticleer, when he gan him espy,He would have fled, but that the fox anonSaid, “Gentle Sir, alas! why will ye gon?Be ye afraid of me that am your friend?Now, certes, I were worse than any fiend,If I to you would harm or villainy.I am not come your counsel to espy.But truely the cause of my comingWas only for to hearken how ye sing;For truely ye have as merry a steven,* *voiceAs any angel hath that is in heaven;Therewith ye have of music more feeling,Than had Boece, or any that can sing.My lord your father (God his soule bless)And eke your mother of her gentleness,Have in mnine house been, to my great ease:* *satisfactionAnd certes, Sir, full fain would I you please.But, for men speak of singing, I will say,So may I brooke* well mine eyen tway, *enjoy, possess, or useSave you, I hearde never man so singAs did your father in the morrowning.Certes it was of heart all that he sung.And, for to make his voice the more strong,He would *so pain him,* that with both his eyen *make such an exertion*He muste wink, so loud he woulde cryen,And standen on his tiptoes therewithal,And stretche forth his necke long and small.And eke he was of such discretion,That there was no man, in no region,That him in song or wisdom mighte pass.I have well read in Dan Burnel the Ass, <29>Among his verse, how that there was a cockThat, for* a prieste’s son gave him a knock *becauseUpon his leg, while he was young and nice,* *foolishHe made him for to lose his benefice.But certain there is no comparisonBetwixt the wisdom and discretionOf youre father, and his subtilty.Now singe, Sir, for sainte charity,Let see, can ye your father counterfeit?”
This Chanticleer his wings began to beat,As man that could not his treason espy,So was he ravish’d with his flattery.Alas! ye lordes, many a false flattour* *flatterer <30>Is in your court, and many a losengeour, * *deceiver <31>That please you well more, by my faith,Than he that soothfastness* unto you saith. *truthRead in Ecclesiast’ of flattery;Beware, ye lordes, of their treachery.This Chanticleer stood high upon his toes,Stretching his neck, and held his eyen close,And gan to crowe loude for the nonceAnd Dan Russel <32> the fox start up at once,And *by the gorge hente* Chanticleer, *seized by the throat*And on his back toward the wood him bare.For yet was there no man that him pursu’d.O destiny, that may’st not be eschew’d!* *escapedAlas, that Chanticleer flew from the beams!Alas, his wife raughte* nought of dreams! *regardedAnd on a Friday fell all this mischance.O Venus, that art goddess of pleasance,Since that thy servant was this ChanticleerAnd in thy service did all his powere,More for delight, than the world to multiply,Why wilt thou suffer him on thy day to die?O Gaufrid, deare master sovereign, <33>That, when thy worthy king Richard was slainWith shot, complainedest his death so sore,Why n’had I now thy sentence and thy lore,The Friday for to chiden, as did ye?(For on a Friday, soothly, slain was he),Then would I shew you how that I could plain* *lamentFor Chanticleere’s dread, and for his pain.
Certes such cry nor lamentationWas ne’er of ladies made, when IlionWas won, and Pyrrhus with his straighte sword,When he had hent* king Priam by the beard, *seizedAnd slain him (as saith us Eneidos*),<34> *The AeneidAs maden all the hennes in the close,* *yardWhen they had seen of Chanticleer the sight.But sov’reignly* Dame Partelote shright,** *above all othersFull louder than did Hasdrubale’s wife, **shriekedWhen that her husband hadde lost his life,And that the Romans had y-burnt Carthage;She was so full of torment and of rage,That wilfully into the fire she start,And burnt herselfe with a steadfast heart.O woeful hennes! right so cried ye,As, when that Nero burned the cityOf Rome, cried the senatores’ wives,For that their husbands losten all their lives;Withoute guilt this Nero hath them slain.Now will I turn unto my tale again;
The sely* widow, and her daughters two, *simple, honestHearde these hennes cry and make woe,And at the doors out started they anon,And saw the fox toward the wood is gone,And bare upon his back the cock away:They cried, “Out! harow! and well-away!Aha! the fox!” and after him they ran,And eke with staves many another manRan Coll our dog, and Talbot, and Garland;And Malkin, with her distaff in her handRan cow and calf, and eke the very hoggesSo fear’d they were for barking of the dogges,And shouting of the men and women eke.They ranne so, them thought their hearts would break.They yelled as the fiendes do in hell;The duckes cried as men would them quell;* *kill, destroyThe geese for feare flewen o’er the trees,Out of the hive came the swarm of bees,So hideous was the noise, ben’dicite!Certes he, Jacke Straw,<35> and his meinie,* *followersNe made never shoutes half so shrillWhen that they woulden any Fleming kill,As thilke day was made upon the fox.Of brass they broughte beames* and of box, *trumpets <36>Of horn and bone, in which they blew and pooped,* **tootedAnd therewithal they shrieked and they hooped;It seemed as the heaven shoulde fall
Now, goode men, I pray you hearken all;Lo, how Fortune turneth suddenlyThe hope and pride eke of her enemy.This cock, that lay upon the fox’s back,In all his dread unto the fox he spake,And saide, “Sir, if that I were as ye,Yet would I say (as wisly* God help me), *surely‘Turn ye again, ye proude churles all;A very pestilence upon you fall.Now am I come unto the woode’s side,Maugre your head, the cock shall here abide;I will him eat, in faith, and that anon.’”The fox answer’d, “In faith it shall be done:”And, as he spake the word, all suddenlyThe cock brake from his mouth deliverly,* *nimblyAnd high upon a tree he flew anon.And when the fox saw that the cock was gone,“Alas!” quoth he, “O Chanticleer, alas!I have,” quoth he, “y-done to you trespass,* *offenceInasmuch as I maked you afear’d,When I you hent,* and brought out of your yard; *tookBut, Sir, I did it in no wick’ intent;Come down, and I shall tell you what I meant.I shall say sooth to you, God help me so.”“Nay then,” quoth he, “I shrew* us both the two, *curseAnd first I shrew myself, both blood and bones,If thou beguile me oftener than once.Thou shalt no more through thy flatteryDo* me to sing and winke with mine eye; *causeFor he that winketh when he shoulde see,All wilfully, God let him never the.”* *thrive“Nay,” quoth the fox; “but God give him mischanceThat is so indiscreet of governance,That jangleth* when that he should hold his peace.” *chatters
Lo, what it is for to be reckelessAnd negligent, and trust on flattery.But ye that holde this tale a folly,As of a fox, or of a cock or hen,Take the morality thereof, good men.For Saint Paul saith, That all that written is,*To our doctrine it written is y-wis.* <37> *is surely written forTake the fruit, and let the chaff be still. our instruction*
Now goode God, if that it be thy will,As saith my Lord, <38> so make us all good men;And bring us all to thy high bliss. Amen.
Notes to the Nun’s Priest’s Tale
1. The Tale of the Nun’s Priest is founded on the fifth chapterof an old French metrical “Romance of Renard;” the same storyforming one of the fables of Marie, the translator of the BretonLays. (See note 2 to the Prologue to the Franklin’s Tale.)Although Dryden was in error when he ascribed the Tale toChaucer’s own invention, still the materials on which he had tooperate were out of cornparison more trivial than the result.
2. Tyrwhitt quotes two statutes of Edward III, in which “deys”are included among the servants employed in agriculturalpursuits; the name seems to have originally meant a servant whogave his labour by the day, but afterwards to have beenappropriated exclusively to one who superintended or workedin a dairy.
3. Orgon: here licentiously used for the plural, “organs” or“orgons,” corresponding to the plural verb “gon” in the nextline.
- Horloge: French, “clock.”
5. Embattell’d: indented on the upper edge like the battlementsof a castle.
6. My lefe is fare in land: This seems to have been the refrain ofsome old song, and its precise meaning is uncertain. Itcorresponds in cadence with the morning salutation of the cock;and may be taken as a greeting to the sun, which is beloved ofChanticleer, and has just come upon the earth — or in the senseof a more local boast, as vaunting the fairness of his favouritehen above all others in the country round.
Transcriber’s note: Later commentators explain “fare in land” as“gone abroad” and have identified the song:
My lefe is fare in londAlas! Why is she so?And I am so sore boundI may not come her to.She hath my heart in holdWhere ever she ride or goWith true love a thousand-fold.
(Printed in The Athenaeum, 1896, Vol II, p. 566).
7. “Avoi!” is the word here rendered “away!” It was frequentlyused in the French fabliaux, and the Italians employ the word“via!” in the same sense.
8. “Ne do no force of dreams:” “Somnia ne cares;” — Cato“De Moribus,” 1 ii, dist. 32
9. Centaury: the herb so called because by its virtue the centaurChiron was healed when the poisoned arrow of Hercules hadaccidentally wounded his foot.
- Fumetere: the herb “fumitory.”
11. Catapuce: spurge; a plant of purgative qualities. To itsname in the text correspond the Italian “catapuzza,” and French“catapuce” — words the origin of which is connected with theeffects of the plant.
- Gaitre-berries: dog-wood berries.
13. One of the greatest authors that men read: Cicero, who inhis book “De Divinatione” tells this and the following story,though in contrary order and with many differences.
- Haled or hylled; from Anglo-Saxon “helan” hid, concealed
15. Kenelm succeeded his father as king of the Saxon realm ofMercia in 811, at the age of seven years; but he was slain by hisambitious aunt Quendrada. The place of his burial wasmiraculously discovered, and he was subsequently elevated tothe rank of a saint and martyr. His life is in the English “GoldenLegend.”
16. Mercenrike: the kingdom of Mercia; Anglo-Saxon,Myrcnarice. Compare the second member of the compound inthe German, “Frankreich,” France; “Oesterreich,” Austria.
17. Cicero (“De Republica,” lib. vi.) wrote the Dream ofScipio, in which the Younger relates the appearance of theElder Africanus, and the counsels and exhortations which theshade addressed to the sleeper. Macrobius wrote an elaborate“Commentary on the Dream of Scipio,” — a philosophicaltreatise much studied and relished during the Middle Ages.
- See the Monk’s Tale for this story.
19. Andromache’s dream will not be found in Homer; It isrelated in the book of the fictitious Dares Phrygius, the mostpopular authority during the Middle Ages for the history of theTrojan War.
20. In principio: In the beginning; the first words of Genesis andof the Gospel of John.
21. Mulier est hominis confusio: This line is taken from thesame fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and thephilosopher Secundus, whence Chaucer derived some of thearguments in praise of poverty employed in the Wife of Bath’sTale proper. See note 14 to the Wife of Bath’s tale. Thepassage transferred to the text is the commencement of adescription of woman. “Quid est mulier? hominis confusio,” &c.(“What is Woman? A union with man”, &c.)
22. Col-fox: a blackish fox, so called because of its likeness tocoal, according to Skinner; though more probably the prefix hasa reproachful meaning, and is in some way connected with theword “cold” as, some forty lines below, it is applied to theprejudicial counsel of women, and as frequently it is used todescribe “sighs” and other tokens of grief, and “cares” or“anxieties.”
23. Undern: In this case, the meaning of “evening” or“afternoon” can hardly be applied to the word, which must betaken to signify some early hour of the forenoon. See also note4 to the Wife of Bath’s tale and note 5 to the Clerk’s Tale.
24. Ganilion: a traitor. See note 9 to the Shipman’s Tale andnote 28 to the Monk’s Tale.
25. Greek Sinon: The inventor of the Trojan Horse. See note 14to the Squire’s Tale
26. Boult it from the bren: Examine the matter thoroughly; ametaphor taken from the sifting of meal, to divide the fine flourfrom the bran.
27. Thomas Bradwardine, Archbishop of Canterbury in thethirteenth century, who wrote a book, “De Causa Dei,” incontroversy with Pelagius; and also numerous other treatises,among them some on predestination.
28. In a popular mediaveal Latin treatise by one Theobaldus,entitled “Physiologus de Naturis XII. Animalium” (“Adescription of the nature of twelve animals”), sirens ormermaids are described as skilled in song, and drawing unwarymariners to destruction by the sweetness of their voices.
29. “Nigellus Wireker,” says Urry’s Glossary, “a monk andprecentor of Canterbury, wrote a Latin poem intituled‘Speculum Speculorum,’ (‘The mirror of mirrors’) dedicated toWilliam Longchamp, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Chancellor;wherein, under the fable of an Ass (which he calls ‘Burnellus’)that desired a longer tail, is represented the folly of such as arenot content with their own condition. There is introduced a taleof a cock, who having his leg broke by a priest’s son (calledGundulfus) watched an opportunity to be revenged; which atlast presented itself on this occasion: A day was appointed forGundulfus’s being admitted into holy orders at a place remotefrom his father’s habitation; he therefore orders the servants tocall him at first cock-crowing, which the cock overhearing didnot crow at all that morning. So Gundulfus overslept himself,and was thereby disappointed of his ordination, the office beingquite finished before he came to the place.” Wireker’s satire wasamong the most celebrated and popular Latin poems of theMiddle Ages. The Ass was probably as Tyrwhitt suggests,called “Burnel” or “Brunel,” from his brown colour; as, a littlebelow, a reddish fox is called “Russel.”
- Flattour: flatterer; French, “flatteur.”
31. Losengeour: deceiver, cozener; the word had analogues inthe French “losengier,” and the Spanish “lisongero.” It isprobably connected with “leasing,” falsehood; which has beenderived from Anglo-Saxon “hlisan,” to celebrate — as if it meantthe spreading of a false renown
32. Dan Russel: Master Russet; a name given to the fox, fromhis reddish colour.
33. Geoffrey de Vinsauf was the author of a well-knownmediaeval treatise on composition in various poetical styles ofwhich he gave examples. Chaucer’s irony is therefore directedagainst some grandiose and affected lines on the death ofRichard I., intended to illustrate the pathetic style, in whichFriday is addressed as “O Veneris lachrymosa dies” (“O tearfulday of Venus”).
34. “Priamum altaria ad ipsa trementemTraxit, et in multo lapsantem sanguine natiImplicuitque comam laeva, dextraque coruscumExtulit, ac lateri capulo tenus abdidit ensem.Haec finis Priami fatorum.”(“He dragged Priam trembling to his own altar, slipping on theblood of his child; He took his hair in his left hand, and with theright drew the flashing sword, and hid it to the hilt [in his body].Thus an end was made of Priam”)— Virgil, Aeneid. ii. 550.
35. Jack Straw: The leader of a Kentish rising, in the reign ofRichard II, in 1381, by which the Flemish merchants in Londonwere great sufferers.
- Beams: trumpets; Anglo-Saxon, “bema.”
37. “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and isprofitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, forinstruction in righteousness: that the man of God may beperfect, throughly furnished unto all good works.” — 2 Tim. iii.16.
THE EPILOGUE <1>
“Sir Nunne’s Priest,” our hoste said anon,“Y-blessed be thy breech, and every stone;This was a merry tale of Chanticleer.But by my truth, if thou wert seculere,* *a laymanThou wouldest be a treadefowl* aright; *cockFor if thou have courage as thou hast might,Thee were need of hennes, as I ween,Yea more than seven times seventeen.See, whate brawnes* hath this gentle priest, *muscles, sinewsSo great a neck, and such a large breastHe looketh as a sperhawk with his eyenHim needeth not his colour for to dyenWith Brazil, nor with grain of Portugale.But, Sir, faire fall you for your tale’.”And, after that, he with full merry cheerSaid to another, as ye shall hear.
Notes to the Epilogue to the Nun’s Priest’s Tale
1. The sixteen lines appended to the Tale of the Nun’s Priestseem, as Tyrwhitt observes, to commence the prologue to thesucceeding Tale — but the difficulty is to determine which thatTale should be. In earlier editions, the lines formed the openingof the prologue to the Manciple’s Tale; but most of themanuscripts acknowledge themselves defective in this part, andgive the Nun’s Tale after that of the Nun’s Priest. In the Harleianmanuscript, followed by Mr Wright, the second Nun’s Tale, andthe Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale, are placed after the Franklin’s tale;and the sixteen lines above are not found — the Manciple’sprologue coming immediately after the “Amen” of the Nun’sPriest. In two manuscripts, the last line of the sixteen runs thus:“Said unto the Nun as ye shall hear;” and six lines moreevidently forged, are given to introduce the Nun’s Tale. All thisconfusion and doubt only strengthen the certainty, and deepenthe regret, that “The Canterbury Tales” were left at Chaucer’s,death not merely very imperfect as a whole, but destitute ofmany finishing touches that would have made them complete sofar as the conception had actually been carried intoperformance.