A to Z Classics - The Canterbury Tales (Best Navigation, Free AudioBook) ( A to Z Classics)

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 blood;

Thanne wolde he speke and crie as he were wood.

And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn,

Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn.

A fewe termes hadde he, two or thre,

That he had lerned out of som decree —

No wonder is, he herde it al the day,

And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay