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    The Canterbury Tales, the New Translation
    The Canterbury Tales, the New Translation
    The Canterbury Tales, the New Translation
    Ebook595 pages9 hours

    The Canterbury Tales, the New Translation

    By Geoffrey Chaucer

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    One spring day, the Narrator of The Canterbury Tales rents a room at the Tabard Inn before he recommences his journey to Canterbury. That evening, a group of people arrive at the inn, all of whom are also going to Canterbury to receive the blessings of "the holy blissful martyr," St. Thomas à Becket. Calling themselves "pilgrims" because of their destination, they accept the Narrator into their company. The Narrator describes his newfound traveling companions.

    The Host at the inn, Harry Bailey, suggests that, to make the trip to Canterbury pass more pleasantly, each member of the party tell two tales on the journey to Canterbury and two more tales on the journey back. The person who tells the best story will be rewarded with a sumptuous dinner paid for by the other members of the party. The Host decides to accompany the pilgrims to Canterbury and serve as the judge of the tales. (non illustrated)
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOBG Classics
    Release dateSep 11, 2017
    ISBN9782377934706
    The Canterbury Tales, the New Translation
    Author

    Geoffrey Chaucer

    Often referred to as the father of English poetry, Geoffrey Chaucer was a fourteenth-century philosopher, alchemist, astrologer, bureaucrat, diplomat, and author of many significant poems. Chaucer’s writing was influential in English literary tradition, as it introduced new rhyming schemes and helped develop the vernacular tradition—the use of everyday English—rather than the literary French and Latin, which were common in written works of the time. Chaucer’s best-known—and most imitated—works include The Canterbury Tales, Troilus and Criseyde, The Book of the Duchess, and The House of Fame.

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    Reviews for The Canterbury Tales, the New Translation

    3.5/5

    2,916 ratings73 reviews

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    • 5/5
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    • 5/5
      I read this in Middle English, so it was extremely challenging, but well worth the extra effort. The "Canturbury Tales" are a collection of stories, all but two of which, were written in verse. In the framing story, 24 pilgrims are on their way from Southwark to Canturbury to visit the Saint Thomas Becket shrine at Canturbury Cathedral. When they stop along the way, they entertain the group with tales, some serious, some hilarious, some racy, some satirical, and some laced with religious themes. The most famous of these is "The Knight's Tale," in which two friends, both knights, fall in love with the same woman. The funniest and bawdiest story is "The Miller's Tale," which includes extramarital sex, ass (ers) kissing, and farting! I'd highly recommend at least attempting to read the book in its original language, as the verses are incredibly beautiful and well-written. There are several versions that include either glossaries or interlinear translation which is necessary to fully understand the meaning of the text, but a strictly modern version will miss much of what makes Chaucer amazing.
    • 4/5
      A wife destroys her husband and contrives,
      As husbands know, the ruin of their lives

      Much as the theme of estrangement dominates a thread of traditional songs, (see Wayfaring Stranger, Motherless Child etc) much of early Modern literature appears concerned with faithless brides and the looming spectre of cuckoldry. It is possible that I am full of shit in tall weeds, but that said, I do think that there is a link between the themes (alienation and infidelity) and that both are understood in terms of our ontological displacement. Such were my reasoned reactions to Canterbury Tales. My unreasoned ones amounted to observation: look there’s a rape, that’s a rape, that’s a pogrom, why would anyone’s daughter want to sleep with him etc, etc? I read this in translation into modern English and was impressed about the rhyme, especially between Flanders and extravagances: who can fault that? The Tales is a display of language's majesty.

      My grasp of Chaucer amounts to the author saying through his myriad voices -- much like Bill Nighy in Hitchhiker’s Guide: there really is no point, just keep busy
    • 5/5
      When I was assigned this book to read for my World Literature class, I was somewhat afraid. This was not only because I figured I wouldn't understand the language but also because it seemed extremely boring.However, once I bought the book and read it, I was surprised to find that I was wrong about both of these things.First,in terms of the language, although it was written in Middle English, the author of this edition takes the liberty of having a translation of each section. This of course allows the reader to see the contrast of the old language and the modern translation as well as better relate to the story.Secondly, in terms of the Canterbury Tales being boring, I was surprised to find myself wanting to continue reading each of the tales. Although I thought I would not be interested in the various tales told by each pilgrim, I eventually wanted to see how the characters in each tale ended and what became of them.So,although this started out as an assignment for class, it became an opportunity for me to read something that I usually wouldn't. Therefore, I would suggest this book to anyone who would like to read about not only a journey but about how people are not as they appear to be.
    • 4/5
      I first read this book in the 11th grade in Ms. Robert's English class. I think this was one of the first books where I really began to take an interest in the classics, which was unwittingly encouraged by Ms. Robert's excellent teaching of the class (for example, the day we read The Knight's Tale, we were told to pronounce "knight" as "kuh-nig-ut"). It is an interesting glimpse into mediaeval times, which, as it turns out, weren't so different from a human perspective than the present.One of the books I took with me and read while deployed to Iraq.
    • 3/5
      Having not read The Canterbury Tales since high school, I really have no basis of comparison to say how this translation stands up to prior editions, but I can say that it was a very accessible book. I won't go into the details of the story, as I would be just rehashing everything that has been said before, but I did find the book enjoyable. It still takes awhile to get into the flow of the text, but once there, the reading was quite easy.
    • 5/5
      Written in the late 1380's through the early 1390's, Chaucer combines the elements of a diverse cast of travelers, age-old human themes, some borrowed stories from others (cleverly giving credit much of the time), and his own talent for tying everything together through a host that serves as both MC and judge. Some stories are baudy. Most of those that deal with religion have a tonque-in-cheek attitude, though there are a few that truly deal with love and virtue. This is a must-read classic.
    • 3/5
      While these are quite tiresome to translate into modern english, or something understandable at least, the stories themselves are quite interesting.
    • 5/5
      I've found, like many before me, that Chaucer has many delightful little works within a work here. I thank him for popularizing English as a written art form, as I did not complete my training in Latin. You will be using such foul and blasphemous language as "By God's Blood and Bones" for many weeks upon completing this book. My favorite tale is the Miller's; that naughty Allison and her nether eye....
    • 3/5
      Canterbury Tales were ruined for me in school. If I'd read them out of school I would have loved them. Some of the stories are superb while some of them fall flat. If you don't mind shifting between the enthralling and mundane this book wouldn't be half-bad.
    • 3/5
      Normally I would give CT a four-star rating, but the particular edition I'm writing about is not written in the original Middle English; it's been "translated" and modified with a mind for the flow of verse rather than the original meanings of the words. Since I find so much of Chaucer's humor washed out by editors' tampering, I give this edition a measly three stars.
    • 2/5
      I read The Prologue, The Cook's Prologue & Tale, The Prioress's Prologue & Tale, Words of the Host to the Monk, The Monk's Tale, The Nun's Priest's Tale, the Pardoner's Prologue & Tale, The Wife of Bath's Prologue & Tale

      I enjoyed reading it, but its not a book I'd just pick up and read for fun.
    • 1/5
      Stopped at page 20. The way this is written I had way too much trouble keeping characters separate as I read. I was only in the earliest part of the book but had to keep deciding which character any pronoun referred to. It became way too bothersome to me and disinteresting once I accepted that it wasn't going to change. I really bought the book because I had heard that the Wife of Bath's tale was a bit risque...I finally just went to her chapter and read the last page and will suffice with that. A shame.
    • 3/5
      From the mind-numbingly boring Monk's Tale to the spirited Wife of Bath, these tales seemed to be either really good or really dull. I was able to follow the language (for the most part) once I went through the Prologue with a fine-tooth comb looking up every unfamiliar word. After that, I had the hang of it. I'm glad I read it, but I doubt that I'll ever read it again.
    • 3/5
      I've recently read several interesting short story collections from antiquity, namely The Canterbury Tales, Arabian Nights, and Ovid's Metamorphoses. Each of them has inspired enough academic articles to fill a library, so I'm not going to delve into their historical import or the ways each has influenced future literature, but I think its valuable to consider how they compare to each other in approach and how I saw them as stories.

      First, The Canterbury Tales. Chaucer's unfinished collection provides a great window into what life was like in the middle ages, more specifically England in the 1300s. By providing a diverse cast of story tellers as the vehicles for the stories themselves Chaucer is able to explore many professions and various points on the social hierarchy, satirizing and criticizing all the flaws he saw in his society. To an extent these are interesting, but social satire does not always age well. While it certainly gives you a sense of how England looked through Chaucer's eyes (a den of corruption and hypocrisy for the most part, especially when discussing the religious institutions), it can be hit or miss as to whether the critique has aged well. Critique on chivalry in The Knight's Tale? I'm in. Critique of alchemists wherein pages and pages of ingredients are listed? Yawn. Additionally, the majority of the tales aren't that deep, with many being raunchy stories of pure entertainment and others being morality tales with blatantly obvious messages (pride is bad and fortune is fickle, we get it). The message of one tale was flat out stated to be "beware of treachery." Was there someone at the time going around saying "treachery isn't that bad, don't worry about it?"

      In reverse chronological order the next up is Arabian Nights. This collection is amorphous enough that many tales pop up in one edition and not another, which in my opinion weakens the arguments I see about the collection having a set of coherent themes or messages. The sole theme that I found to be consistent was the power of storytelling- it appears in the frame narrative, of course, but also the stories themselves often showcase the ability of stories to trick the powerful, and oftentimes stories lead to sub-stories and so on, like nesting dolls. Toward the end of the collection the descriptions began to get to me: if I never see someone described as being "as beautiful as the moon" with "lips like coral" and other features like various gems I'll be a happy reader. The Norton Critical addition showed its worth by providing many additional pieces inspired by the Arabian Nights, as well as critical analyses of the text (some of which I found less than convincing, but always interesting). More so than the other two collections Arabian Nights just struck me as a bunch of stories, many of which of course were intended to edify, but mostly its purpose was to entertain. It more or less accomplished this.

      The earliest, and also the best, of the three collections was Ovid's Metamorphoses. Chaucer references the classic explicitly several times in his work, and it's no wonder: Ovid is the master that Chaucer tried and failed to match. What put this collection above the others for me was that Ovid not only had a consistent theme to the stories (transformations, as the title would suggest), but also stories flow from one to the next, mostly with an organic feeling that makes the work take on a grander scale. Ovid's not just telling stories, he's tracing the history of the world, explaining how the world became populated with the birds and plants and animals that fill it, and connecting the past all up to what was then the present day. It also serves as the source for much of what we know of Greek/Roman mythology, as Ovid was also setting down an account of the actions and behavior of the gods. Framing narratives can be used to great effect, just look at If On a Winter's Night a Traveller by Italo Calvino for a phenomenal example, but Canterbury Tales creates such a framing narrative only to leave it incomplete, and Arabian Nights slowly siphons away the importance of the frame narrative until it is forgotten entirely. In comparison, Ovid's Metamorphoses connection of his tales makes his work stand on a grander scale, and makes it feel like a more coherent whole. A note on translations, I found Charles Martin's work to be very strong in general, although he makes a few bizarre choices. Translating a singing contest into a rap battle was a clear mistake. Overall, though, I feel confident recommending him so long as you want a more modern take on the text.

      All three collections have stood the test of time, and each is an essential read to understand the ages and cultures they arose out of. Between the three of them, though, Ovid's Metamorphoses is the most worthy of your time in my opinion.
    • 1/5
      Some of the tales were wildly funny, especially the Wife of Bath, but most I found boring and endless. Quite ironically, when I would get feed up with the tale, the host would jump in and tell the story teller how boring or frightfully horrid they were being. All in all I really dislike this book and hope I don't have to read it ever again. I might have appreciated it more in school, having a teacher to help me along with it.
    • 5/5
      A classic work of literature and one of the first tot criticise society in this way. A wrote a paper about it for my studies and knowing more about the time it was written makes you appreciate it even more.
    • 5/5
      The Canterbury Tales are at the same time a historical and literary reading. Through the characters you can see a whole frame of representations from Middle Ages. From the women of Bath to merchant, prayers, prioesses, friars... religious, economical, burguois and low society. This book is an incredible source for scholars, students and readers.
    • 5/5
      Loved the variety of stories available. It had something for everyone. It is now my travel book. As I can pick and choose what I feel like reading.
    • 5/5
      As an English major, I'm pretty much require to enjoy this (while analyzing the hell out of it).
    • 5/5
      Reading The Canterbury Tales of Geoffrey Chaucer from beginning to end is an exhilarating experience. The humor and variety that abound in these stories particularly impresses this reader. That aside, the game established by Chaucer at the Tabard the night before the journey is a competition for the tale "of best sentence and moost solaas," the prize being "a soper at oure aller cost." He leaves no doubt that some of his pilgrims would rate the prospect of a free meal more highly than the feast promised at the Cathedral: a view of not only the St. Thomas a Becket relics, but the whole arms of eleven saints, the bed of the Blessed Virgin, fragments of the rock at Calvary and of rock from the Holy Sepulchre, Aaron's Rod, a piece of the clay from which Adam was made, and more. Since Chaucer does not complete his tale-telling, nor get his pilgrims to their destination, neither earthly nor spiritual nourishment is realized. The reader should not let this deter him from enjoying the tales that Chaucer did complete as presented in this effective modern english verse translation.
    • 2/5
      It haunted me in my high school English class, and I guess I just couldn't get the sour taste out of my mouth. I do respect the scope of this novel, and the ambitious points of view expressed by each character's story. This just wasn't my cup of tea.
    • 4/5
      Maybe one day I'll read ALL of the tales. Not today.
    • 5/5
      Chaucer presents a group of pilgrims on their way to Canterbury to visit the shrine of Saint Thomas à Becket's at Canterbury Cathedral. To make the journey interesting they settle upon the plan that each of them should tell a tale for the amusement of the others. Eventually a vote would decide who had told the best story. By this structure, Chaucer is able to tell several otherwise unrelated stories. This could be considered the first major piece of literature in English.
    • 4/5
      A wonderful introduction to the tales. I suggest reading this before tackling them in the original, as it really helps to have an idea of what's happening as you translate. And when you read the original, try reading it aloud. Sometimes just hearing how the words sound will help you translate the meaning.
    • 5/5
      You wouldn't think a collection of medieval stories would be so entertaining. Some of these are hilarious. The copy I had also contained the original Chaucerian English in a facing-page translation which was really neat.
    • 5/5
      This edition of the Canterbury Tales, edited by Larry Benson, is superb. It is based on the Riverside Chaucer, Third Edition (also edited by Benson) and is as authoritative as you can get. It's greatest attribute is the presentation of a highly readable text that will be appreciated by scholars and lovers of Chaucer of all levels. It's beautifully glossed, but in an unobtrusive manner that allows the language to sing off the page without any unneccesary interruptions; the copious (and useful) vocab and grammar notes are clearly marked by line and placed below the body text, thus one can read (aloud preferably) at one's own pace without being constantly interrupted. The placement and economy of the notes also makes for a clear presentation and a great reading text that allows individual readers to approach the Tales at his or her own pace. Highly informative and entertaining essays on Chaucer's life, the history and conext in which he lived and wrote and on his language and versification introduce the volume and provide an excellent jumping off point into the Tales. The latter essay is a decent - albeit brief - introduction to reading and pronounciation of Chaucer's Middle English, but it is far from comprehensive, covering primarily the most basic elements thereof while paying scant attention to the nuances of inflection and grammar. Nevertheless, that is where this edition acheives - it presents a highly readable and accesible version of Chaucer's masterpiece and allows readers of all levels to approach the poem(s) on their own terms, unencumbered by an intrusive or burdensome scholarly apparatus. In other words, one can approach the Tales with just enough context, historically and linguistically, to engage with it in a manner as close to possible as a fluent reader of Middle English would have. And the perfect balance between inspiring the novice reader to venture forth independently and the superior guidance that is readily available with just a quick glance toward the bottom of the page, will undoubtadly improve one's reading and comprehension of Middle English. Scholars of all levels will appreciate and enjoy this edition. Larry Benson (still teaching at Harvard, by the way) is one of the great Chaucerians and has given us one of the best editions of Chaucer available - one that is equally beneficial and interesting to both the student and the layman. The point is, you can't outgrow this one. If anything, you can grow into it. What more could one want?
    • 3/5
      Fun stuff. I've also tried to read it in Middle English a couple of times, but never stuck it out.
    • 3/5
      easy to read, easy to understand. i took a whole class on it and all of its various themes were extrapolated and studied.. i don't think much of it pertains to anybody after the middle ages. lots of bawdy humor.
    • 4/5
      Touted as unabridged. It contains unabridged versions of the 12 more popular tales.

    Book preview

    The Canterbury Tales, the New Translation - Geoffrey Chaucer

    The Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer

    Table of Contents

    Part 1

    Prologue

    Here bygynneth the Book of the tales of Caunterbury.

    Part 2

    The Knyghtes Tale.

    Heere bigynneth the knyghtes tale.

    Part 3

    Prologue to the Milleres Tale

    Heere folwen the wordes bitwene the Hoost and the Millere

    The Tale

    Part 4

    Prologue to the Reves Tale

    The prologe of the Reves Tale.

    Part 5

    The Prologue to the Cokes Tale.

    The prologe of the Cokes Tale.

    The Tale (Unfinished).

    Part 6

    Prologue of the Man of Lawe.

    The wordes of the Hoost to the compaignye.

    Part 7

    The Tale of the Man of Lawe.

    The prologe of the Mannes Tale of Lawe.

    Heere begynneth the Man of Lawe his Tale.

    Part 8

    Prologue to the Shipmannes Tale

    Here endith the man of lawe his tale. And next folwith the Shipman his prolog.

    Here endith the Shipman his prolog. And next folwyng he bigynneth his tale.

    The Tale.

    Part 9

    The Prioresses Tale

    The prologe of the Prioresses tale. Domine dominus noster.

    Heere begynneth the Prioresses Tale.

    Heere is ended the Prioresses Tale.

    Part 10

    Prologue to Chaucer’S Tale of Sir Thopas

    Part 11

    Heere bigynneth Chaucers tale of Thopas.

    The Second Fit.

    Heere the Hoost stynteth Chaucer of his Tale of Thopas.

    The Tale (in prose).

    Part 12

    Prologue to the Monkes Tale

    The murye wordes of the Hoost to the Monk.

    Part 13

    The Monkes Tale

    Heere bigynneth the Monkes Tale de Casibut Virorum Illustrium.

    Heere stynteth the Knyght the Monk of his tale.

    Part 14

    Prologue to the Nonnes Preestes Tale

    The Prologue of the Nonnes Preestes Tale.

    Part 15

    The Nonnes Preestes Tale

    Heere bigynneth the Nonnes Preestes tale of the Cok and Hen, Chauntecleer and Pertelote.

    Heere is ended the Nonnes Preestes tale.

    Part 16

    The Phisiciens Tale

    Heere folweth the Phisiciens tale.

    Part 17

    Epilogue

    The wordes of the Hoost to the Phisicien and the Pardoner.

    The Pardoners Prologue

    Heere folweth the Prologe of the Pardoners tale.

    Part 18

    The Pardoners Tale

    Heere bigynneth the Pardoners tale.

    Heere is ended the Pardoners tale.

    Part 19

    Prologue of the Wyves Tale of Bath

    The Prologe of the Wyves tale of Bathe.

    Part 20

    The Tale of the Wyf of Bath

    Here bigynneth the Tale of the Wyf of Bathe.

    Part 21

    Prologue to the Freres Tale

    The Prologe of the Freres Tale.

    The Tale

    Part 22

    The Clerkes Tale — Prologue

    Heere folweth the Prologe of the clerkes tale of Oxenford.

    Part 23

    The Clerkes Tale

    Heere bigynneth the tale of the Clerk of Oxenford.

    Lenvoy de Chaucer.

    Bihoold the murye wordes of the Hoost.

    Part 24

    The Prologue of the Marchantes Tale

    The Prologe of the Marchantes tale.

    The Tale.

    Part 25

    Epilogue

    Prologue to the Squieres Tale

    The Squieres Tale

    Heere bigynneth the Squieres Tale.

    Part 26

    Prologue to the Frankeleyns Tale

    Heere folwen the wordes of the Frankelyn to the Squier, and the wordes of the hoost to the Frankelyn.

    The Frankeleyns Tale

    Heere bigynneth the Frankeleyns tale.

    Heere is ended the Frankeleyns tale.

    Part 27

    The Seconde Nonnes Tale

    The Prologe of the Seconde Nonnes Tale.

    Here bigynneth the Seconde Nonnes tale of the lyf of Seinte Cecile.

    Heere is ended the Seconde Nonnes tale.

    Part 28

    Prologue to the Chanouns Yemannes Tale

    The prologe of the Chanouns yemannes tale.

    Part 29

    Prologue to the Maunciples Tale

    Heere folweth the Prologe of the Maunciples tale.

    The Maunciples Tale

    Heere bigynneth the Maunciples tale of the Crowe.

    Heere is ended the Maunciples tale of the Crowe.

    Part 30

    Prologue to the Persouns Tale

    Heere folweth the Prologe of the Persouns tale.

    Heere taketh the makere of this book his leve.

    The Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer

    Part 1

    GROUP A

    Prologue

    Here bygynneth the Book of the tales of Caunterbury.

    Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote,

    The droghte of March hath perced to the roote

    And bathed every veyne in swich licour,

    Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

    Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth

    Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

    The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

    Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne,

    And smale foweles maken melodye,

    That slepen al the nyght with open eye —

    So priketh hem Nature in hir corages —

    Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages

    And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes

    To ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes;

    And specially, from every shires ende

    Of Engelond, to Caunturbury they wende,

    The hooly blisful martir for the seke

    That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.

    Bifil that in that seson, on a day,

    In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay,

    Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage

    To Caunterbury, with ful devout corage,

    At nyght were come into that hostelrye

    Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye

    Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle

    In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,

    That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde.

    The chambres and the stables weren wyde,

    And wel we weren esed atte beste;

    And shortly, whan the sonne was to reste,

    So hadde I spoken with hem everychon

    That I was of hir felaweshipe anon,

    And made forward erly for to ryse

    To take our wey, ther as I yow devyse.

    But nathelees, whil I have tyme and space,

    Er that I ferther in this tale pace,

    Me thynketh it acordaunt to resoun

    To telle yow al the condicioun

    Of ech of hem, so as it semed me,

    And whiche they weren, and of what degree,

    And eek in what array that they were inne;

    And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne.

    A knyght ther was, and that a worthy man,

    That fro the tyme that he first bigan

    To riden out, he loved chivalrie,

    Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie.

    Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre,

    And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre,

    As wel in Cristendom as in Hethenesse,

    And evere honoured for his worthynesse.

    At Alisaundre he was, whan it was wonne;

    Ful ofte tyme he hadde the bord bigonne

    Aboven alle nacions in Pruce;

    In Lettow hadde he reysed, and in Ruce,

    No cristen man so ofte of his degree.

    In Gernade at the seege eek hadde he be

    Of Algezir, and riden in Belmarye;

    At Lyeys was he, and at Satalye,

    Whan they were wonne; and in the Grete See

    At many a noble arive hadde he be.

    At mortal batailles hadde he been fiftene,

    And foughten for oure feith at Tramyssene

    In lystes thries, and ay slayn his foo.

    This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also

    Somtyme with the lord of Palatye

    Agayn another hethen in Turkye,

    And everemoore he hadde a sovereyn prys.

    And though that he were worthy, he was wys,

    And of his port as meeke as is a mayde;

    He nevere yet no vileynye ne sayde

    In al his lyf unto no maner wight;

    He was a verray parfit gentil knyght.

    But for to tellen yow of his array,

    His hors weren goode, but he was nat gay.

    Of fustian he wered a gypoun,

    Al bismotered with his habergeoun;

    For he was late ycome from his viage,

    And wente for to doon his pilgrymage.

    With hym ther was his sone, a yong Squier,

    A lovyere and a lusty bacheler,

    With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd in presse.

    Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.

    Of his stature he was of evene lengthe,

    And wonderly delyvere, and of greet strengthe.

    And he hadde been somtyme in chyvachie

    In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Pycardie,

    And born hym weel, as of so litel space,

    In hope to stonden in his lady grace.

    Embrouded was he, as it were a meede,

    Al ful of fresshe floures whyte and reede;

    Syngynge he was, or floytynge, al the day,

    He was as fressh as is the monthe of May.

    Short was his gowne, with sleves longe and wyde.

    Wel koude he sitte on hors, and faire ryde,

    He koude songes make, and wel endite,

    Juste, and eek daunce, and weel purtreye and write.

    So hoote he lovede, that by nyghtertale

    He slepte namoore than dooth a nyghtyngale.

    Curteis he was, lowely, and servysable,

    And carf biforn his fader at the table.

    A Yeman hadde he, and servantz namo

    At that tyme, for hym liste ride soo;

    And he was clad in cote and hood of grene,

    A sheef of pecok arwes bright and kene

    Under his belt he bar ful thriftily —

    Wel koude he dresse his takel yemanly,

    Hise arwes drouped noght with fetheres lowe —

    And in his hand he baar a myghty bowe.

    A not — heed hadde he, with a broun visage,

    Of woodecraft wel koude he al the usage.

    Upon his arm he baar a gay bracer,

    And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler,

    And on that oother syde a gay daggere,

    Harneised wel, and sharpe as point of spere.

    A Cristophere on his brest of silver sheene,

    An horn he bar, the bawdryk was of grene.

    A Forster was he, soothly, as I gesse.

    Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,

    That of hir smylyng was ful symple and coy.

    Hir gretteste ooth was but by Seinte Loy,

    And she was cleped Madame Eglentyne.

    Ful weel she soong the service dyvyne,

    Entuned in hir nose ful semely;

    And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly

    After the scole of Stratford-atte-Bowe,

    For Frenssh of Parys was to hir unknowe.

    At mete wel ytaught was she withalle;

    She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle,

    Ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe.

    Wel koude she carie a morsel, and wel kepe

    That no drope ne fille upon hir brist.

    In curteisie was set ful muche hir list;

    Hire over-lippe wyped she so clene,

    That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene

    Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte.

    Ful semely after hir mete she raughte;

    And sikerly, she was of greet desport,

    And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,

    And peyned hir to countrefete cheere

    Of court, and been estatlich of manere,

    And to ben holden digne of reverence.

    But for to speken of hir conscience,

    She was so charitable and so pitous,

    She wolde wepe, if that she saugh a mous

    Kaught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.

    Of smale houndes hadde she, that she fedde

    With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel-breed.

    But soore weep she if oon of hem were deed,

    Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte;

    And al was conscience, and tendre herte.

    Ful semyly hir wympul pynched was,

    Hire nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas,

    Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed;

    But sikerly, she hadde a fair forheed,

    It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe,

    For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe.

    Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war;

    Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar

    A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene,

    An theron heng a brooch of gold ful sheene,

    On which ther was first write a crowned ‘A,’

    And after,‘Amor vincit omnia.’

    Another Nonne with hir hadde she,

    That was hire Chapeleyne, and preestes thre.

    A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrie,

    An outridere, that lovede venerie,

    A manly man, to been an abbot able.

    Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable;

    And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel heere

    Gynglen in a whistlynge wynd als cleere,

    And eek as loude, as dooth the chapel belle,

    Ther as this lord was keper of the celle.

    The reule of Seint Maure, or of Seint Beneit,

    Bycause that it was old and somdel streit —

    This ilke Monk leet olde thynges pace,

    And heeld after the newe world the space.

    He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,

    That seith that hunters beth nat hooly men,

    Ne that a monk, whan he is recchelees,

    Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees —

    This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloystre —

    But thilke text heeld he nat worth an oystre!

    And I seyde his opinioun was good,

    What sholde he studie, and make hymselven wood,

    Upon a book in cloystre alwey to poure,

    Or swynken with his handes and laboure

    As Austyn bit? How shal the world be served?

    Lat Austyn have his swynk to him reserved;

    Therfore he was a prikasour aright,

    Grehoundes he hadde, as swift as fowel in flight;

    Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare

    Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare.

    I seigh his sleves ypurfiled at the hond

    With grys, and that the fyneste of a lond;

    And for to festne his hood under his chyn

    He hadde of gold ywroght a curious pyn;

    A love-knotte in the gretter ende ther was.

    His heed was balled, that shoon as any glas,

    And eek his face, as it hadde been enoynt.

    He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt,

    Hise eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed,

    That stemed as a forneys of a leed;

    His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat;

    Now certeinly he was a fair prelaat!

    He was nat pale as a forpyned goost,

    A fat swan loved he best of any roost.

    His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.

    A Frere ther was, a wantowne and a merye,

    A lymytour, a ful solempne man,

    In alle the ordres foure is noon that kan

    So muchel of daliaunce and fair langage.

    He hadde maad ful many a mariage

    Of yonge wommen at his owene cost.

    Unto his ordre he was a noble post,

    And wel biloved and famulier was he

    With frankeleyns overal in his contree

    And eek with worthy wommen of the toun,

    For he hadde power of confessioun,

    As seyde hymself, moore than a curat,

    For of his ordre he was licenciat.

    Ful swetely herde he confessioun,

    And plesaunt was his a absolucioun,

    He was an esy man to yeve penaunce

    Ther as he wiste to have a good pitaunce;

    For unto a povre ordre for to yive

    Is signe that a man is wel yshryve;

    For, if he yaf, he dorste make avaunt,

    He wiste that a man was repentaunt.

    For many a man so harde is of his herte,

    He may nat wepe, al thogh hym soore smerte;

    Therfore, in stede of wepynge and preyeres,

    Men moote yeve silver to the povre freres.

    His typet was ay farsed ful of knyves

    And pynnes, for to yeven yonge wyves.

    And certeinly he hadde a murye note,

    Wel koude he synge, and pleyen on a rote,

    Of yeddynges he baar outrely the pris.

    His nekke whit was as the flour delys;

    Therto he strong was as a champioun,

    He knew the tavernes wel in every toun

    And everich hostiler and tappestere

    Bet than a lazar or a beggestere.

    For unto swich a worthy man as he

    Acorded nat, as by his facultee,

    To have with sike lazars aqueyntaunce;

    It is nat honeste, it may nat avaunce,

    For to deelen with no swich poraille,

    But al with riche and selleres of vitaille;

    And overal, ther as profit sholde arise,

    Curteis he was, and lowely of servyse.

    Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous;

    He was the beste beggere in his hous,

    (And yaf a certeyn ferme for the graunt

    Noon of his brethren cam ther in his haunt;)

    For thogh a wydwe hadde noght a sho,

    So plesaunt was his ‘In principio’

    Yet wolde he have a ferthyng er he wente;

    His purchas was wel bettre than his rente.

    And rage he koude, as it were right a whelpe;

    In love-dayes ther koude he muchel helpe;

    For there he was nat lyk a cloysterer,

    With a thredbare cope, as is a povre scoler,

    But he was lyk a maister or a pope;

    Of double worstede was his semycope,

    That rounded as a belle out of the presse.

    Somwhat he lipsed for his wantownesse

    To make his Englissh sweete upon his tonge,

    And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde songe,

    Hise eyen twynkled in his heed aryght

    As doon the sterres in the frosty nyght.

    This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd.

    A Marchant was ther, with a forkek berd,

    In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat,

    Upon his heed a Flaundryssh bevere hat,

    His bootes clasped faire and fetisly.

    Hise resons he spak ful solempnely,

    Sownynge alway thencrees of his wynnyng.

    He wolde the see were kept for any thyng

    Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle.

    Wel koude 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 chevyssaunce.

    Forsothe, he was a worthy man with-alle,

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

    A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also,

    That unto logyk hadde longe ygo.

    As leene was his hors as is a rake,

    And he nas nat right fat, I undertake,

    But looked holwe and therto sobrely.

    Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy,

    For he hadde geten hym yet no benefice,

    Ne was so worldly for to have office,

    For hym was levere have at his beddes heed

    Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed,

    Of Aristotle and his plilosophie,

    Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie.

    But al be that he was a philosophre,

    Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre;

    But al that he myghte of his freendes hente,

    On bookes and his lernynge he it spente,

    And bisily gan for the soules preye

    Of hem that yaf hym wherwith to scoleye.

    Of studie took he moost cure and moost heede,

    Noght o word spak he moore than was neede,

    And that was seyd in forme and reverence,

    And short and quyk, and ful of hy sentence.

    Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche,

    And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

    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, hise wordes weren so wise.

    Justice he was ful often in assise,

    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 nowher noon,

    Al was fee symple to hym in effect,

    His purchasyng myghte nat been infect.

    Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas,

    And yet he semed bisier than he was;

    In termes hadde he caas and doomes alle,

    That from the tyme of Kyng William were falle.

    Therto he koude endite, and make a thyng,

    Ther koude no wight pynche at his writyng.

    And every statut koude 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 compaignye;

    Whit was his berd as is a dayesye.

    Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.

    Wel loved he by the morwe a sope in wyn,

    To lyven in delit was evere his wone;

    For he was Epicurus owene sone,

    That heeld opinioun that pleyn delit

    Was verraily felicitee parfit,

    An housholdere, and that a greet, was he;

    Seint Julian was he in his contree.

    His breed, his ale, was alweys after oon,

    A bettre envyned man was nowher noon.

    Withoute bake mete was nevere his hous,

    Of fissh and flessh, and that so plentevous,

    It snewed in his hous of mete and drynke,

    Of alle deyntees that men koude thynke.

    After the sondry sesons of the yeer

    So chaunged he his mete and his soper.

    Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in muwe,

    And many a breem and many a luce in stuwe.

    Wo was his cook, but if his sauce were

    Poynaunt, and sharp, and redy al his geere.

    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 knyght of the shire.

    An anlaas and a gipser al of silk

    Heeng at his girdel, whit as morne milk.

    A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour,

    Was nowher swich a worthy vavasour.

    An Haberdasshere and a Carpenter,

    A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapycer —

    And they were clothed alle in o lyveree

    Of a solempne and a greet fraternitee.

    Ful fressh and newe hir geere apiked was,

    Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras,

    But al with silver wroght ful clene and weel,

    Hir girdles and hir pouches everydeel.

    Wel semed ech of hem a fair burgeys

    To sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys.

    Everich for the wisdom that he kan

    Was shaply for to been an alderman;

    For catel hadde they ynogh, and rente,

    And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente —

    And eles, certeyn, were they to blame!

    It is ful fair to been ycleped ‘ma Dame,’

    And goon to vigilies al bifore,

    And have a mantel roialliche ybore.

    A Cook they hadde with hem for the nones,

    To boille the chiknes with the marybones,

    And poudre-marchant tart, and galyngale.

    Wel koude he knowe a draughte of London ale;

    He koude rooste, 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 shyne a mormal hadde he!

    For blankmanger, that made he with the beste.

    A Shipman was ther, wonynge fer by weste;

    For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe.

    He rood upon a rouncy, as he kouthe,

    In a gowne of faldyng to the knee.

    A daggere hangynge on a laas hadde he

    Aboute his nekke, under his arm adoun.

    The hoote somer hadde maad his hewe al broun,

    And certeinly he was a good felawe.

    Ful many a draughte of wyn had he ydrawe

    Fro Burdeuxward, whil 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 hym bisides,

    His herberwe and his moone, his lodemenage,

    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 alle the havenes as they were

    From Gootlond to the Cape of Fynystere,

    And every cryke in Britaigne and in Spayne.

    His barge yeleped was the Maudelayne.

    With us ther was a Doctour of Phisik;

    In al this world ne was ther noon hym lik,

    To speke of phisik and of surgerye;

    For he was grounded in astronomye.

    He kepte his pacient a ful greet deel

    In houres, by his magyk natureel.

    Wel koude he fortunen the ascendent

    Of hisc ymages for his pacient.

    He knew the cause of everich maladye,

    Were it of hoot or coold, or moyste, or drye,

    And where they engendred, and of what humour.

    He was a verray parfit praktisour;

    The cause yknowe, and of his harm the roote,

    Anon he yaf the sike man his boote.

    Ful redy hadde he hise apothecaries

    To sende him drogges and his letuaries,

    For ech of hem made oother for to wynne,

    Hir frendshipe nas nat newe to bigynne.

    Wel knew he the olde Esculapius,

    And Deyscorides and eek Rufus,

    Olde Ypocras, Haly, and Galyen,

    Serapioun, Razis, and Avycen,

    Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn,

    Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn.

    Of his diete mesurable was he,

    For it was of no superfluitee,

    But of greet norissyng, and digestible.

    His studie was but litel on the Bible.

    In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al,

    Lyned with taffata and with sendal —

    And yet he was but esy of dispence;

    He kepte that he wan in pestilence.

    For gold in phisik is a cordial,

    Therfore he lovede gold in special.

    A good wif was ther, of biside Bathe,

    He was to synful man nat despitous,

    Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne,

    But in his techyng discreet and benygne;

    To drawen folk to hevene by fairnesse,

    By good ensample, this was his bisynesse.

    But it were any persone obstinat,

    What so he were, of heigh or lough estat,

    Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys.

    A bettre preest, I trowe, that nowher noon ys.

    He waited after no pompe and reverence,

    Ne maked him a spiced conscience,

    But Cristes loore, and Hise apostles twelve

    He taughte, but first he folwed it hym-selve.

    With hym ther was a Plowman, was his brother,

    That hadde ylad of dong ful many a fother.

    A trewe swybnker and a good was he,

    Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee.

    God loved he best with al his hoole herte

    At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte,

    And thanne his neighebore right as hym-selve;

    He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve,

    For Cristes sake, for every povre wight

    Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght.

    Hise tithes payed he ful faire and wel,

    Bothe of his propre swynk and his catel.

    In a tabard he rood, upon a mere.

    Ther was also a Reve and a Millere,

    A Somnour and a Pardoner also,

    A Maunciple, and myself, ther were namo.

    The Millere was a stout carl for the nones,

    Ful byg he was of brawn and eek of bones —

    That proved wel, for overal ther he cam

    At wrastlyng he wolde have alwey the ram.

    He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre,

    Ther was no dore that he nolde heve of harre,

    Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed.

    His berd as any sowe or fox was reed,

    And therto brood, as though it were a spade.

    Upon the cop right of his nose he hade

    A werte, and thereon stood a toft of heres

    Reed as the brustles of a sowes eres;

    Hise nosethirles blake were and wyde.

    A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde.

    His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys,

    He was a janglere and a goliardeys,

    And that was moost of synne and harlotries.

    Wel koude he stelen corn, and tollen thries,

    And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.

    A whit cote and a blew hood wered he.

    A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne,

    And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.

    A gentil Maunciple was ther of a temple,

    Of which achatours myghte take exemple

    For to be wise in byynge of vitaille;

    For wheither that he payde or took by taille,

    Algate he wayted so in his achaat

    That he was ay biforn, and in good staat.

    Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace,

    That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace

    The wisdom of an heep of lerned men?

    Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten,

    That weren of lawe expert and curious,

    Of whiche ther weren a duszeyne in that hous

    Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond

    Of any lord that is in Engelond,

    To maken hym lyve by his propre good,

    In honour dettelees, but if he were wood;

    Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire,

    And able for to helpen al a shire

    In any caas that myghte falle or happe —

    And yet this manciple sette hir aller cappe!

    The Reve was a sclendre colerik man;

    His berd was shave as ny as ever he kan,

    His heer was by his erys ful round yshorn,

    His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn.

    Ful longe were his legges, and ful lene,

    Ylyk a staf, ther was no calf ysene.

    Wel koude he kepe a gerner and a bynne,

    Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynne.

    Wel wiste he, by the droghte, and by the reyn,

    The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn.

    His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayerye,

    His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye,

    Was hooly in this reves governyng

    And by his covenant yaf the rekenyng,

    Syn that his lord was twenty yeer of age;

    Ther koude no man brynge hym in arrerage.

    Ther nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyne,

    That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne,

    They were adrad of hym as of the deeth.

    His wonyng was ful faire upon an heeth,

    With grene trees shadwed was his place.

    He koude bettre than his lord purchace.

    Ful riche he was astored pryvely;

    His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly

    To yeve and lene hym of his owene good,

    And have a thank, and yet a cote and hook.

    In youthe he hadde lerned a good myster,

    He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter.

    This reve sat upon a ful good stot,

    That was al pomely grey, and highte Scot.

    A long surcote of pers upon he hade,

    And by his syde he baar a rusty blade.

    Of Northfolk was this reve, of which I telle,

    Bisyde a toun men clepen Baldeswelle.

    Tukked he was, as is a frere, aboute,

    And evere he rood the hyndreste of oure route.

    A Somonour was ther with us in that place,

    That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynnes face,

    For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe.

    As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe,

    With scalled browes blake, and piled berd,

    Of his visage children were aferd.

    Ther nas quyk-silver, lytarge, ne brymstoon,

    Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon,

    Ne oynement, that wolde clense and byte,

    That hym myghte helpen of his wheldes white,

    Nor of the knobbes sittynge on his chekes.

    Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes,

    And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as

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