Chapter 22

“Twelvepence!” quoth she; “now lady Sainte Mary So wisly* help me out of care and sin, *surely This wide world though that I should it win, No have I not twelvepence within my hold. Ye know full well that I am poor and old; *Kithe your almes* upon me poor wretch.” *show your charity* “Nay then,” quoth he, “the foule fiend me fetch, If I excuse thee, though thou should’st be spilt.”* *ruined “Alas!” quoth she, “God wot, I have no guilt.” “Pay me,” quoth he, “or, by the sweet Saint Anne, As I will bear away thy newe pan For debte, which thou owest me of old, — When that thou madest thine husband cuckold, — I paid at home for thy correction.” “Thou liest,” quoth she, “by my salvation; Never was I ere now, widow or wife, Summon’d unto your court in all my life; Nor never I was but of my body true. Unto the devil rough and black of hue Give I thy body and my pan also.” And when the devil heard her curse so Upon her knees, he said in this mannere; “Now, Mabily, mine owen mother dear, Is this your will in earnest that ye say?” “The devil,” quoth she, “so fetch him ere he dey,* *die And pan and all, but* he will him repent.” *unless “Nay, olde stoat,* that is not mine intent,” *polecat Quoth this Sompnour, “for to repente me For any thing that I have had of thee; I would I had thy smock and every cloth.” “Now, brother,” quoth the devil, “be not wroth; Thy body and this pan be mine by right. Thou shalt with me to helle yet tonight, Where thou shalt knowen of our privity* *secrets More than a master of divinity.”

And with that word the foule fiend him hent.* *seized Body and soul, he with the devil went, Where as the Sompnours have their heritage; And God, that maked after his image Mankinde, save and guide us all and some, And let this Sompnour a good man become. Lordings, I could have told you (quoth this Frere), Had I had leisure for this Sompnour here, After the text of Christ, and Paul, and John, And of our other doctors many a one, Such paines, that your heartes might agrise,* *be horrified Albeit so, that no tongue may devise,* — *relate Though that I might a thousand winters tell, — The pains of thilke* cursed house of hell *that But for to keep us from that cursed place Wake we, and pray we Jesus, of his grace, So keep us from the tempter, Satanas. Hearken this word, beware as in this case. The lion sits *in his await* alway *on the watch* <16> To slay the innocent, if that he may. Disposen aye your heartes to withstond The fiend that would you make thrall and bond; He may not tempte you over your might, For Christ will be your champion and your knight; And pray, that this our Sompnour him repent Of his misdeeds ere that the fiend him hent.* *seize

Notes to the Friar’s Tale

1. Small tithers: people who did not pay their full tithes. Mr Wright remarks that “the sermons of the friars in the fourteenth century were most frequently designed to impress the ahsolute duty of paying full tithes and offerings”.

2. There might astert them no pecunial pain: they got off with no mere pecuniary punishment. (Transcriber’s note: “Astert” means “escape”. An alternative reading of this line is “there might astert him no pecunial pain” i.e. no fine ever escaped him (the archdeacon))

3. A dog for the bow: a dog attending a huntsman with bow and arrow.

4. Ribibe: the name of a musical instrument; applied to an old woman because of the shrillness of her voice.

5. De par dieux: by the gods.

6. See note 12 to the Knight’s Tale.

7. Wariangles: butcher-birds; which are very noisy and ravenous, and tear in pieces the birds on which they prey; the thorn on which they do this was said to become poisonous.

8. Medieval legends located hell in the North.

9. The Pythoness: the witch, or woman, possesed with a prophesying spirit; from the Greek, “Pythia.” Chaucer of course refers to the raising of Samuel’s spirit by the witch of Endor.

10. Dante and Virgil were both poets who had in fancy visited Hell.

11. Tholed: suffered, endured; “thole” is still used in Scotland in the same sense.

12. Capels: horses. See note 14 to the Reeve’s Tale.

13. Liart: grey; elsewhere applied by Chaucer to the hairs of an old man. So Burns, in the “Cotter’s Saturday Night,” speaks of the gray temples of “the sire” — “His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare.”

14. Rebeck: a kind of fiddle; used like “ribibe,” as a nickname for a shrill old scold.

15. Trot; a contemptuous term for an old woman who has trotted about much, or who moves with quick short steps.

16. In his await: on the watch; French, “aux aguets.”

THE SOMPNOUR’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood, Upon this Friar his hearte was so wood,* *furious That like an aspen leaf he quoke* for ire: *quaked, trembled “Lordings,” quoth he, “but one thing I desire; I you beseech, that of your courtesy, Since ye have heard this false Friar lie, As suffer me I may my tale tell This Friar boasteth that he knoweth hell, And, God it wot, that is but little wonder, Friars and fiends be but little asunder. For, pardie, ye have often time heard tell, How that a friar ravish’d was to hell In spirit ones by a visioun, And, as an angel led him up and down, To shew him all the paines that there were, In all the place saw he not a frere; Of other folk he saw enough in woe. Unto the angel spake the friar tho;* *then ‘Now, Sir,’ quoth he, ‘have friars such a grace, That none of them shall come into this place?’ ‘Yes’ quoth the angel; ‘many a millioun:’ And unto Satanas he led him down. ‘And now hath Satanas,’ said he, ‘a tail Broader than of a carrack<1> is the sail. Hold up thy tail, thou Satanas,’ quoth he, ‘Shew forth thine erse, and let the friar see Where is the nest of friars in this place.’ And *less than half a furlong way of space* *immediately* <2> Right so as bees swarmen out of a hive, Out of the devil’s erse there gan to drive A twenty thousand friars *on a rout.* *in a crowd* And throughout hell they swarmed all about, And came again, as fast as they may gon, And in his erse they creeped every one: He clapt his tail again, and lay full still. This friar, when he looked had his fill Upon the torments of that sorry place, His spirit God restored of his grace Into his body again, and he awoke; But natheless for feare yet he quoke, So was the devil’s erse aye in his mind; That is his heritage, *of very kind* *by his very nature* God save you alle, save this cursed Frere; My prologue will I end in this mannere.

Notes to the Prologue to the Sompnour’s Tale

1. Carrack: A great ship of burden used by the Portuguese; the name is from the Italian, “cargare,” to load

2. In less than half a furlong way of space: immediately; literally, in less time than it takes to walk half a furlong (110 yards).

THE TALE.

Lordings, there is in Yorkshire, as I guess, A marshy country called Holderness, In which there went a limitour about To preach, and eke to beg, it is no doubt. And so befell that on a day this frere Had preached at a church in his mannere, And specially, above every thing, Excited he the people in his preaching To trentals, <1> and to give, for Godde’s sake, Wherewith men mighte holy houses make, There as divine service is honour’d, Not there as it is wasted and devour’d, Nor where it needeth not for to be given, As to possessioners, <2> that may liven, Thanked be God, in wealth and abundance. “Trentals,” said he, “deliver from penance Their friendes’ soules, as well old as young, Yea, when that they be hastily y-sung, — Not for to hold a priest jolly and gay, He singeth not but one mass in a day. “Deliver out,” quoth he, “anon the souls. Full hard it is, with flesh-hook or with owls* *awls To be y-clawed, or to burn or bake: <3> Now speed you hastily, for Christe’s sake.” And when this friar had said all his intent, With qui cum patre<4> forth his way he went, When folk in church had giv’n him what them lest;* *pleased He went his way, no longer would he rest, With scrip and tipped staff, *y-tucked high:* *with his robe tucked In every house he gan to pore* and pry, up high* *peer And begged meal and cheese, or elles corn. His fellow had a staff tipped with horn, A pair of tables* all of ivory, *writing tablets And a pointel* y-polish’d fetisly,** *pencil **daintily And wrote alway the names, as he stood; Of all the folk that gave them any good, Askaunce* that he woulde for them pray. *see note <5> “Give us a bushel wheat, or malt, or rey,* *rye A Godde’s kichel,* or a trip** of cheese, *little cake<6> **scrap Or elles what you list, we may not chese;* *choose A Godde’s halfpenny, <6> or a mass penny; Or give us of your brawn, if ye have any; A dagon* of your blanket, leve dame, *remnant Our sister dear, — lo, here I write your name,— Bacon or beef, or such thing as ye find.” A sturdy harlot* went them aye behind, *manservant <7> That was their hoste’s man, and bare a sack, And what men gave them, laid it on his back And when that he was out at door, anon He *planed away* the names every one, *rubbed out* That he before had written in his tables: He served them with nifles* and with fables. — *silly tales

“Nay, there thou liest, thou Sompnour,” quoth the Frere. “Peace,” quoth our Host, “for Christe’s mother dear; Tell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all.” “So thrive I,” quoth this Sompnour, “so I shall.” —

So long he went from house to house, till he Came to a house, where he was wont to be Refreshed more than in a hundred places Sick lay the husband man, whose that the place is, Bed-rid upon a couche low he lay: *“Deus hic,”* quoth he; “O Thomas friend, good day,” *God be here* Said this friar, all courteously and soft. “Thomas,” quoth he, “God *yield it you,* full oft *reward you for* Have I upon this bench fared full well, Here have I eaten many a merry meal.” And from the bench he drove away the cat, And laid adown his potent* and his hat, *staff <8> And eke his scrip, and sat himself adown: His fellow was y-walked into town Forth with his knave,* into that hostelry *servant Where as he shope* him that night to lie. *shaped, purposed

“O deare master,” quoth this sicke man, “How have ye fared since that March began? I saw you not this fortenight and more.” “God wot,” quoth he, “labour’d have I full sore; And specially for thy salvation Have I said many a precious orison, And for mine other friendes, God them bless. I have this day been at your church at mess,* *mass And said sermon after my simple wit, Not all after the text of Holy Writ; For it is hard to you, as I suppose, And therefore will I teach you aye the glose.* *gloss, comment Glosing is a full glorious thing certain, For letter slayeth, as we clerkes* sayn. *scholars There have I taught them to be charitable, And spend their good where it is reasonable. And there I saw our dame; where is she?” “Yonder I trow that in the yard she be,” Saide this man; “and she will come anon.” “Hey master, welcome be ye by Saint John,” Saide this wife; “how fare ye heartily?”

This friar riseth up full courteously, And her embraceth *in his armes narrow,* *closely And kiss’th her sweet, and chirketh as a sparrow With his lippes: “Dame,” quoth he, “right well, As he that is your servant every deal.* *whit Thanked be God, that gave you soul and life, Yet saw I not this day so fair a wife In all the churche, God so save me,” “Yea, God amend defaultes, Sir,” quoth she; “Algates* welcome be ye, by my fay.” *always “Grand mercy, Dame; that have I found alway. But of your greate goodness, by your leave, I woulde pray you that ye not you grieve, I will with Thomas speak *a little throw:* *a little while* These curates be so negligent and slow To grope tenderly a conscience. In shrift* and preaching is my diligence *confession And study in Peter’s wordes and in Paul’s; I walk and fishe Christian menne’s souls, To yield our Lord Jesus his proper rent; To spread his word is alle mine intent.” “Now by your faith, O deare Sir,” quoth she, “Chide him right well, for sainte charity. He is aye angry as is a pismire,* *ant Though that he have all that he can desire, Though I him wrie* at night, and make him warm, *cover And ov’r him lay my leg and eke mine arm, He groaneth as our boar that lies in sty: Other disport of him right none have I, I may not please him in no manner case.” “O Thomas, *je vous dis,* Thomas, Thomas, *I tell you* This *maketh the fiend,* this must be amended. *is the devil’s work* Ire is a thing that high God hath defended,* *forbidden And thereof will I speak a word or two.” “Now, master,” quoth the wife, “ere that I go, What will ye dine? I will go thereabout.” “Now, Dame,” quoth he, “je vous dis sans doute, <9> Had I not of a capon but the liver, And of your white bread not but a shiver,* *thin slice And after that a roasted pigge’s head, (But I would that for me no beast were dead,) Then had I with you homely suffisance. I am a man of little sustenance. My spirit hath its fost’ring in the Bible. My body is aye so ready and penible* *painstaking To wake,* that my stomach is destroy’d. *watch I pray you, Dame, that ye be not annoy’d, Though I so friendly you my counsel shew; By God, I would have told it but to few.” “Now, Sir,” quoth she, “but one word ere I go; My child is dead within these weeke’s two, Soon after that ye went out of this town.”

“His death saw I by revelatioun,” Said this friar, “at home in our dortour.* *dormitory <10> I dare well say, that less than half an hour Mter his death, I saw him borne to bliss In mine vision, so God me wiss.* *direct So did our sexton, and our fermerere,* *infirmary-keeper That have been true friars fifty year, — They may now, God be thanked of his love, Make their jubilee, and walk above.<12> And up I rose, and all our convent eke, With many a teare trilling on my cheek, Withoute noise or clattering of bells, Te Deum was our song, and nothing else, Save that to Christ I bade an orison, Thanking him of my revelation. For, Sir and Dame, truste me right well, Our orisons be more effectuel, And more we see of Christe’s secret things, Than *borel folk,* although that they be kings. *laymen*<13> We live in povert’, and in abstinence, And borel folk in riches and dispence Of meat and drink, and in their foul delight. We have this worlde’s lust* all in despight** * pleasure **contempt Lazar and Dives lived diversely, And diverse guerdon* hadde they thereby. *reward Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean, And fat his soul, and keep his body lean We fare as saith th’ apostle; cloth* and food *clothing Suffice us, although they be not full good. The cleanness and the fasting of us freres Maketh that Christ accepteth our prayeres. Lo, Moses forty days and forty night Fasted, ere that the high God full of might Spake with him in the mountain of Sinai: With empty womb* of fasting many a day *stomach Received he the lawe, that was writ With Godde’s finger; and Eli,<14> well ye wit,* *know In Mount Horeb, ere he had any speech With highe God, that is our live’s leech,* *physician, healer He fasted long, and was in contemplance. Aaron, that had the temple in governance, And eke the other priestes every one, Into the temple when they shoulde gon To praye for the people, and do service, They woulde drinken in no manner wise No drinke, which that might them drunken make, But there in abstinence pray and wake, Lest that they died: take heed what I say — But* they be sober that for the people pray — *unless Ware that, I say — no more: for it sufficeth. Our Lord Jesus, as Holy Writ deviseth,* *narrates Gave us example of fasting and prayeres: Therefore we mendicants, we sely* freres, *simple, lowly Be wedded to povert’ and continence, To charity, humbless, and abstinence, To persecution for righteousness, To weeping, misericorde,* and to cleanness. *compassion And therefore may ye see that our prayeres (I speak of us, we mendicants, we freres), Be to the highe God more acceptable Than youres, with your feastes at your table. From Paradise first, if I shall not lie, Was man out chased for his gluttony, And chaste was man in Paradise certain. But hark now, Thomas, what I shall thee sayn; I have no text of it, as I suppose, But I shall find it in *a manner glose;* *a kind of comment* That specially our sweet Lord Jesus Spake this of friars, when he saide thus, ‘Blessed be they that poor in spirit be’ And so forth all the gospel may ye see, Whether it be liker our profession, Or theirs that swimmen in possession; Fy on their pomp, and on their gluttony, And on their lewedness! I them defy. Me thinketh they be like Jovinian,<15> Fat as a whale, and walking as a swan; All vinolent* as bottle in the spence;** *full of wine **store-room Their prayer is of full great reverence; When they for soules say the Psalm of David, Lo, ‘Buf’ they say, Cor meum eructavit.<16> Who follow Christe’s gospel and his lore* *doctrine But we, that humble be, and chaste, and pore,* *poor Workers of Godde’s word, not auditours?* *hearers Therefore right as a hawk *upon a sours* *rising* Up springs into the air, right so prayeres Of charitable and chaste busy freres *Make their sours* to Godde’s eares two. *rise* Thomas, Thomas, so may I ride or go, And by that lord that called is Saint Ive, *N’ere thou our brother, shouldest thou not thrive;* *see note <17>* In our chapiter pray we day and night To Christ, that he thee sende health and might, Thy body for to *wielde hastily.* *soon be able to move freely*

“God wot,” quoth he, “nothing thereof feel I; So help me Christ, as I in fewe years Have spended upon *divers manner freres* *friars of various sorts* Full many a pound, yet fare I ne’er the bet;* *better Certain my good have I almost beset:* *spent Farewell my gold, for it is all ago.”* *gone The friar answer’d, “O Thomas, dost thou so? What needest thou diverse friars to seech?* *seek What needeth him that hath a perfect leech,* *healer To seeken other leeches in the town? Your inconstance is your confusioun. Hold ye then me, or elles our convent, To praye for you insufficient? Thomas, that jape* it is not worth a mite; *jest Your malady is *for we have too lite.* *because we have Ah, give that convent half a quarter oats; too little* And give that convent four and twenty groats; And give that friar a penny, and let him go! Nay, nay, Thomas, it may no thing be so. What is a farthing worth parted on twelve? Lo, each thing that is oned* in himselve *made one, united Is more strong than when it is y-scatter’d. Thomas, of me thou shalt not be y-flatter’d, Thou wouldest have our labour all for nought. The highe God, that all this world hath wrought, Saith, that the workman worthy is his hire Thomas, nought of your treasure I desire As for myself, but that all our convent To pray for you is aye so diligent: And for to builde Christe’s owen church. Thomas, if ye will learne for to wirch,* *work Of building up of churches may ye find If it be good, in Thomas’ life of Ind.<18> Ye lie here full of anger and of ire, With which the devil sets your heart on fire, And chide here this holy innocent Your wife, that is so meek and patient. And therefore trow* me, Thomas, if thee lest,** *believe **please Ne strive not with thy wife, as for the best. And bear this word away now, by thy faith, Touching such thing, lo, what the wise man saith: ‘Within thy house be thou no lion; To thy subjects do none oppression; Nor make thou thine acquaintance for to flee.’ And yet, Thomas, eftsoones* charge I thee, *again Beware from ire that in thy bosom sleeps, Ware from the serpent, that so slily creeps Under the grass, and stingeth subtilly. Beware, my son, and hearken patiently, That twenty thousand men have lost their lives For striving with their lemans* and their wives. *mistresses Now since ye have so holy and meek a wife, What needeth you, Thomas, to make strife? There is, y-wis,* no serpent so cruel, *certainly When men tread on his tail nor half so fell,* *fierce As woman is, when she hath caught an ire; Very* vengeance is then all her desire. *pure, only Ire is a sin, one of the greate seven, Abominable to the God of heaven, And to himself it is destruction. This every lewed* vicar and parson *ignorant Can say, how ire engenders homicide; Ire is in sooth th’ executor* of pride. *executioner I could of ire you say so muche sorrow, My tale shoulde last until to-morrow. And therefore pray I God both day and ight, An irous* man God send him little might. *passionate It is great harm, and certes great pity To set an irous man in high degree.

“Whilom* there was an irous potestate,** *once **judge<19> As saith Senec, that during his estate* *term of office Upon a day out rode knightes two; And, as fortune would that it were so, The one of them came home, the other not. Anon the knight before the judge is brought, That saide thus; ‘Thou hast thy fellow slain, For which I doom thee to the death certain.’ And to another knight commanded he; ‘Go, lead him to the death, I charge thee.’ And happened, as they went by the way Toward the place where as he should dey,* *die The knight came, which men weened* had been dead *thought Then thoughte they it was the beste rede* *counsel To lead them both unto the judge again. They saide, ‘Lord, the knight hath not y-slain His fellow; here he standeth whole alive.’ ‘Ye shall be dead,’ quoth he, ‘so may I thrive, That is to say, both one, and two, and three.’ And to the firste knight right thus spake he: ‘I damned thee, thou must algate* be dead: *at all events And thou also must needes lose thine head, For thou the cause art why thy fellow dieth.’ And to the thirde knight right thus he sayeth, ‘Thou hast not done that I commanded thee.’ And thus he did do slay them alle three.