The Canterbury Tales

Fragment III

The Friar's Tale

――――――――――――――――――――――――――

Heere bigynneth the

Freres Tale.

Whilom ther was dwellynge in my contree

And erchedeken, a man of heigh degree,

That boldely dide execucioun

In punysshynge of fornicacioun,

1305

Of wicchecraft, and eek of bawderye,

Of difamacioun, and avowtrye,

Of chirche reves, and of testamentz,

Of contractes and of lakke of sacramentz,

Of usure, and of symonye also.

1310

But certes, lecchours dide he grettest wo;

They sholde syngen if that they were hent;

And smale tytheres weren foule yshent,

If any persoun wolde upon hem pleyne.

Ther myghte asterte hym no pecunyal peyne.

1315

For smale tithes and for smal offrynge

He made the peple pitously to synge.

For er the bisshop caughte hem with his hook,

They weren in the erchedeknes book.

Thanne hadde he, thurgh his jurisdiccioun,

1320

Power to doon on hem correccioun.

He hadde a somonour redy to his hond;

A slyer boye nas noon in engelond;

For subtilly he hadde his espiaille,

That taughte hym wel wher that hym myghte availle.

1325

He koude spare of lecchours oon or two,

To techen hym to foure and twenty mo.

For thogh this somonour wood were as an hare,

To telle his harlotrye I wol nat spare;

For we been out of his correccioun.

1330

They han of us no jurisdiccioun,

Ne nevere shullen, terme of alle hir lyves. –

Peter! so been the wommen of the styves,

Quod the somonour, yput out of oure cure!

Pees! with myschance and with mysaventure!

1335

Thys seyde oure hoost, and lat hym telle his tale.

Now telleth forth, thogh that the somonour gale;

Ne spareth nat, myn owene maister deere. –

This false theef, this somonour, quod the frere,

Hadde alwey bawdes redy to his hond,

1340

As any hauk to lure in engelond,

That tolde hym al the secree that they knewe;

For hire acqueyntace was nat come of newe.

They weren his approwours prively.

He took hymself a greet profit therby;

1345

His maister knew nat alwey what he wan.

Withouten mandement a lewed man

He koude somne, on peyne of cristes curs,

And they were glade for to fille his purs,

And make hym grete feestes atte nale.

1350

And right as judas hadde purses smale,

And was a theef, right swich a theef was he;

His maister hadde but half his duetee.

He was, if I shal yeven hym his laude,

A theef, and eek a somnour, and baude.

1355

He hadde eek wenches at his retenue,

That, wheither that sir robert or sir huwe,

Or jakke, or rauf, or whoso that it were

That lay by hem, they tolde it in his ere.

Thus was the wenche and he of oon assent;

1360

And he wolde fecche a feyned mandement,

And somne hem to chapitre bothe two,

And pile the man, and lete the wenche go.

Thanne wolde he seye, freend, I shal for thy sake

Do striken hire out of oure lettres blake;

1365

Thee thar namoore as in this cas travaille.

I am thy freend, ther I thee may availle.

Certeyn he knew of briberyes mo

Than possible is to telle in yeres two.

For in this world nys dogge for the bowe

1370

That kan an hurt deer from an hool yknowe

Bet than this somnour knew a sly lecchour,

Or an avowtier, or a paramour.

And for that was the fruyt of al his rente,

Therfore on it he sette al his entente.

1375

And so bifel that ones on a day

This somnour, evere waityng on his pray,

Rood for to somne an old wydwe, a ribibe,

Feynynge a cause, for he wolde brybe.

And happed that he saugh bifore hym ryde

1380

A gay yeman, under a forest syde,

A bowe he bar, and arwes brighte and kene;

He hadde upon a courtepy of grene,

An hat upon his heed with frenges blake.

Sire, quod this somnour, hayl, and wel atake!

1385

Welcome, quod he, and every good felawe!

Wher rydestow, under this grene-wode shawe?

Seyde this yeman, wiltow fer to day?

This somnour hym answerde and seyde, nay;

Heere faste by, quod he, is myn entente

1390

To ryden, for to reysen up a rente

That longeth to my lordes duetee.

Artow thanne a bailly? ye, quod he.

He dorste nat, for verray filthe and shame

Seye that he was a somonour, for the name.

1395

Depardieux, quod this yeman, deere broother,

Thou art a bailly, and I am another.

I am unknowen as in this contree;

Of thyn aqueyntance I wolde praye thee,

And eek of bretherhede, if that yow leste.

1400

I have gold and silver in my cheste;

If that thee happe to comen in oure shire,

Al shal be thyn, right as thou wolt desire.

Grantmercy, quod this somonour, by my feith!

Everych on ootheres hand his trouthe leith,

1405

For to be sworne bretheren til they deye.

In daliance they ryden forth and pleye.

This somonour, which that was as ful of jangles,

As ful of venym been thise waryangles,

And evere enqueryng upon every thyng,

1410

Brother, quod he, where is now youre dwellyng

Another day if that I sholde yow seche?

This yeman hym answerde in softe speche,

Brother, quod he, fer in the north contree,

Where-as I hope som tyme I shal thee see.

1415

Er we departe, I shal thee so wel wisse

That of myn hous ne shaltow nevere mysse.

Now, brother, quod this somonour, I yow preye,

Teche me, whil that we ryden by the weye,

Syn that ye been a baillif as am I,

1420

Som subtiltee, and tel me feithfully

In myn office how that I may moost wynne;

And spareth nat for conscience ne synne,

But as my brother tel me, how do ye.

Now, by my trouthe, brother deere, seyde he,

1425

As I shal tellen thee a feithful tale,

My wages been ful streite and ful smale.

My lord is hard to me and daungerous,

And myn office is ful laborous,

And therfore by extorcions I lyve.

1430

For sothe, I take al that men wol me yive.

Algate,by gleyghte or by violence,

Fro yeer to yeer I wynne al my dispence.

I kan no bettre telle, feithfully.

Now certes, quod this somonour, so fare I.

1435

I spare nat to taken, God it woot,

But if it be to hevy or to hoot.

What I may gete in conseil prively,

No maner conscience of that have I.

Nere myn extorcioun, I myghte nat lyven,

1440

Ne of swiche japes wol I nat be shryven.

Stomak ne conscience ne knowe I noon;

I shrewe thise shrifte-fadres everychoon.

Wel be we met, by God and by seint jame!

But, leeve brother, tel me thanne thy name,

1445

Quod this somonour. In this meene while

This yeman gan a litel for to smyle.

Brother, quod he, wiltow that I thee telle?

I am a feend; my dwellyng is in helle,

And heere I ryde aboute my purchasyng,

1450

To wite wher men wol yeve me any thyng.

My purchas is th' effect of al my rente.

Looke how thou rydest for the same entente,

To wynne good, thou rekkest nevere how;

Right so fare I, for ryde wolde I now

1455

Unto the worldes ende for a preye.

Al! quod this somonour, benedicite! sey ye?

I wende ye were a yeman trewely.

Ye han a mannes shap as wel as I;

Han ye a figure thanne determinat

1460

In helle, ther ye been in youre estat?

Nay, certeinly, quod he, ther have we noon;

But whan us liketh, we kan take us oon,

Or elles make yow seme we been shape

Somtyme lyk a man, or lyk an ape,

1465

Or lyk an angel kan I ryde or go.

It is no wonder thyng thogh it be so;

A lowsy jogelour kan deceyve thee,

And pardee, yet kan I moore craft than he.

Why, quod this somonour, ryde ye thanne or goon

1470

In sondry shap, and nat alwey in oon?

For we, quod he, wol us swiche formes make

As moost able is oure preyes for to take.

What maketh yow to han al this labour?

Ful many a cause, leeve sire somonour,

1475

Seyde this feend, but alle thyng hath tyme.

The day is short, and it is passed pryme,

And yet ne wan I nothyng in this day.

I wol entende to wynnyng, if I may,

And nat entende oure wittes to declare.

1480

For, brother myn, thy wit is al to bare

To understonde, althogh I tolde hem thee.

But, for thou axest why labouren we –

For somtyme we been goddes instrumentz,

And meenes to doon his comandementz,

1485

Whan that hym list, upon his creatures,

In divers art and in diverse figures.

Withouten hym we have no myght, certayn,

If that hym list stonden ther-agayn.

And somtyme, at oure prayere, han we leve

1490

Oonly the body and nat the soule greve;

Witnesse on job, whom that we diden wo.

And somtyme han we myght of bothe two,

This is to seyn, of soule and body eke.

And somtyme be we suffred for to seke

1495

Upon a man, and doon his soule unreste,

And nat his body, and al is for the beste.

Whan he withstandeth oure temptacioun,

It is a cause of his savacioun,

Al be it that it was nat oure entente

1500

He sholde be sauf, but that we wolde hym hente.

And somtyme be we servant unto man,

As to the erchebisshop seint dunstan,

And to the apostles servent eek was I.

Yet tel me, quod the somonour, feithfully,

1505

Make ye yow newe bodies thus alway

Of elementz? the feend answerde, nay.

Somtyme we feyne, and somtyme we aryse

With dede bodyes, in ful sondry wyse,

And speke as renably and faire and wel

1510

As to the phitonissa dide samuel.

(and yet wol som men seye it was nat he;

I do no fors of youre dyvynytee.)

But o thyng warne I thee, I wol nat jape, –

Thou wolt algates wite how we been shape;

1515

Thou shalt herafterward, my brother deere,

Come there thee nedeth nat of me to leere.

For thou shalt, by thyn owene experience,

Konne in a chayer rede of this sentence

Bet than virgile, while he was on lyve,

1520

Or dant also. Now lat us ryde blyve,

For I wole holde compaignye with thee

Til it be so that thou forsake me.

Nay, quod this somonour, that shal nat bityde!

I am a yeman, knowen is ful wyde;

1525

My trouthe wol I holde, as in this cas.

For though thou were the devel sathanas,

My trouthe wol I holde to my brother,

As I am sworn, and ech of us til oother,

For to be trewe brother in this cas;

1530

And bothe we goon abouten oure purchas.

Taak thou thy part, what that men wol thee yive,

And I shal myn; thus may we bothe lyve.

And if that any of us have moore than oother,

Lat hym be trewe, and parte it with his brother.

1535

I graunte, quod the devel, by my fey.

And with that word they ryden forth hir wey.

And right at the entryng of the townes ende,

To which this somonour shoop hym for to wende,

They saugh a cart that charged was with hey,

1540

Which that a cartere droof forth in his wey.

Deep was the wey, for which the carte stood.

The cartere smoot, and cryde as he were wood,

Hayt, brok! hayt, scot! what spare ye for the stones?

The feend, quod he, yow fecche, body and bones,

1545

As ferforthly as evere were ye foled,

So muche wo as I have with yow tholed!

The devel have al, bothe hors and cart and hey!

This somonour seyde, heere shal we have a pley.

And neer the feend he drough, as noght ne were,

1550

Ful prively, and rowned in his ere:

Herkne, my brother, herkne, by thy feith!

Herestow nat how that the cartere seith?

Hent it anon, for he hath yeve it thee,

Bothe hey and cart, and eek his caples thre.

1555

Nay, quod the devel, God woot, never a deel!

It is nat his entente, trust me weel.

Axe hym thyself, it thou nat trowest me;

Or elles stynt a while, and thou shalt see.

This cartere thakketh his hors upon the croupe,

1560

And they bigonne to drawen and to stoupe.

Heyt! now, quod he, ther jhesu crist yow blesse,

And al his handwerk, bothe moore and lesse!

That was wel twight, myn owene lyard boy.

I pray God save thee, and seinte loy!

1565

Now is my cart out of the slow, pardee!

Lo, brother, quod the feend, what tolde I thee?

Heere may ye se, myn owene deere brother,

The carl spak oo thing, but he thoghte another.

Lat us go forth abouten oure viage;

1570

Heere wynne I nothyng upon cariage.

Whan that they coomen somwhat out of towne,

This somonour to his brother gan to rowne:

Brother, quod he, heere woneth an old rebekke,

That hadde almoost as lief to lese hire nekke

1575

As for to yeve a peny of hir good.

I wole han twelf pens, though that she be wood,

Or I wol sompne hire unto oure office;

And yet, God woot, of hire knowe I no vice.

But for thou kanst nat, as in this contree,

1580

Wynne thy cost, taak heer ensample of me.

This somonour clappeth at the wydwes gate.

Com out, quod he, thou olde virytrate!

I trowe thou hast som frere or preest with thee.

Who clappeth? seyde this wyf, benedicitee!

1585

God save you, sire, what is youre sweete wille?

I have, quod he, of somonce here a bille;

Up peyne of cursyng, looke that thou be

To-morn bifore the erchedeknes knee,

T' answere to the court of certeyn thynges.

1590

Now, lord, quod she, crist jhesu, kyng of kynges,

So wisly helpe me, as I ne may.

I have been syk, and that ful many a day.

I may nat go so fer, quod she, ne ryde,

But I be deed, so priketh it in my syde.

1595

May I nat axe a libel, sire somonour,

And answere there by my procuratour

To swich thyng as men wole opposen me?

Yis, quod this somonour, pay anon, lat se,

Twelf pens to me, and I wol thee acquite.

1600

I shal no profit han therby but lite;

My maister hath the profit, and nat I.

Com of, and lat me ryden hastily;

Yif me twelf pens, I may no lenger tarye.

Twelf pens! quod she, now, lady seinte marie

1605

So wisly help me out of care and synne,

This wyde world thogh that I sholde wynne,

Ne have I nat twelf pens withinne myn hoold.

Ye knowen wel that I am povre and oold;

Kithe youre almesse on me povre wrecche.

1610

Nay thanne, quod he, the foule feend me fecche

If I th' excuse, though thou shul be spilt!

allas! quod she, God woot, I have no gilt.

Pay me, quod he, or by the swete seinte anne,

As I wol bere awey thy newe panne

1615

For dette which thou owest me of old.

Whan that thou madest thyn housbonde cokewold,

I payde at hoom for thy correccioun.

Thou lixt! quod she, by my savacioun,

Ne was I nevere er now, wydwe ne wyf,

1620

Somoned unto youre court in al my lyf;

Ne nevere I nas but of my body trewe!

Unto the devel blak and rough of hewe

Yeve I thy body and my panne also!

And whan the devel herde hire cursen so

1625

Upon hir knees, he seyde in this manere,

Now, mabely, myn owene mooder deere,

Is this youre wyl in ernest that ye seye?

The devel, quod she, so fecche hym er he deye,

And panne and al, but he wol hym repente!

1630

Nay, olde stot, that is nat myn entente,

Quod this somonour, for to repente me

For any thyng that I have had of thee.

I wolde I hadde thy smok and every clooth!

Now, brother, quod the devel, be nat wrooth;

1635

Thy body and this panne been myne by right.

Thow shalt with me to helle yet to-nyght,

Where thou shalt knowen of oure privetee

Moore than a maister of dyvynytee.

And with that word this foule feend hym hente;

1640

Body and soule he with the devel wente

Where as that somonours han hir heritage.

And god, that maked after his ymage

Mankynde, save and gyde us, alle and some,

And leve thise somonours goode men bicome!

1645

Lordynges, I koude han toold yow, quod this frere,

Hadde I had leyser for this somonour heere,

After the text of crist, poul, and john,

And of oure othere doctours many oon,

Swiche peynes that youre hertes myghte agryse,

1650

Al be it so no tonge may it devyse,

Thogh that I myghte a thousand wynter telle

The peynes of thilke cursed hous of helle.

But for to kepe us fro that cursed place,

Waketh, and preyeth jhesu for his grace

1655

So kepe us from the temptour sathanas.

Herketh this word! beth war, as in this cas:

The leoun sit in his awayt alway

To sle the innocent, if that he may.

Disposeth ay youre hertes to withstonde

1660

The feend, that yow wolde make thral and bonde.

He may nat tempte yow over youre myght,

For crist wol be youre champion and knyght.

And prayeth that thise somonours hem repente

Of hir mysdedes, er that the feend hem hente!

Heere endeth the

Freres Tale.