Ne was ther fwiche an other Pardonere,
For in his male he hadde a pilwebere
Which, as he faide, was oure Ladies viel:
He faide he hadde a gobbet of the feyl
Thatte Seint Peter had whan that he went
Upon the fee till Jefu Crift him hent:
He had a-crois of laton ful of ftones,
And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.
But with thefe relikes whanne that he fond
A poure perfone dwelling up on lond,
Upon a day he gat him more moneie
Than that the perfone gat in monethes tweie;
And thus with fained flattering and japes
He made the perfone and the peple his apes.
But trewely to tellen atte last,
He was in chirche a noble ecclefiaft :
Wel coude he rede a leffon or a storie,
But alderbeft he fang an offertorie;

For wel he wiste whan that fong was fonge
He mufte preache and wel afile his ton e
To winne filver, as he right wel coude,
Therfore he fang the merier and loude.

Now have I told you fhortly in a clause
Th' eftat, th' araie, the nombre, and eke the caufe,
Why that affembled was this compagnie
In Southwerk at this gentil hoftelrie
That highte The Tabard, fast by the Belle.
But now is time to you for to telle
How that we baren us that ilke night
Whan we were in that hoftelrie alight;
And after wol I tell of our viage,
And all the remenant of our pilgrimage.

But firfte I praie you of your curtefie
That ye ne arette it not my vilanie,
Though that I plainly fpeke in this matere,
To tellen you hir wordes and hir chere,
Ne though I fpeke hir words proprely;
For this ye knowen al fo wel as I,
Who fo fhall telle a Tale after a man
He mofte reherfe as neighe as ever he can
Everich word, if it be in his charge,
All fpeke he never fo rudely and fo large,
Or elles he mofte tellen his Tale untrewe,
Or feinen thinges, or finden wordes newe:
He may not spare although he were his brother;
He mofte as wel fayn o word as an other.
Crift fpake himself ful brode in holy writ,
And wel ye wote no vilanie is it :
Eke Plato fayeth, who so can him rede,
The wordes moft ben cofin to the dede.
Allo I praie you to forgive it me
All have I not fette folk in hir degree
Here in this Tale as that they fhulden ftonde :
My wit is fhort ye may well understonde.

Gret chere made our Hofte us everich on,
And to the souper fette he us anon.
And ferved us with vitaille of the beste;
Strong was the win, and wel to drink us lefte.
A femely man our Hofte was with alle
For to han ben a marshal in an halle;
A large man he was, with eyen stepe;
A fairer burgeis is ther none in Chepe:
Bold of his fpeche, and wife, and wel ytaught,
And of manhood elaked right him naught:

Eke therto was he right a mery man,
And after fouper plaien he began,
And fpake of mirthe amonges other thinges
Whan that we hadden made our rekeninges,
And faide thus; Now Lordinges, trewely
Ye ben to me welcome right hertily,
For by my trouthe, if that I fhal not lie,
I faw nat this yere fwiche a compagnie
At ones in this herberwe as is now;
Fayn wolde I do you mirthe and I wifte how;
And of a mirthe I am right now bethought
To don you efe, and it fhall cofte you nought.
Ye gon to Canterbury; God you spede,
The blissful martyr quite you your mede;
And wel I wot as ye gon by the way
Ye fhapen you to talken and to play;
For trewely comfort ne mirthe is non'
To riden by the way dombe as the fton;
And therfore wold I maken you disport,
As I faid erft, and don you fome comfort.
And if you liketh alle by on affent
Now for to ftonden at my jugement,
And for to werchen as I fhal you say
To-morwe, whan ye riden on the way,
Now by my faders foule that is ded
But ye be mery, fmiteth of my hed:
Hold up your hondes withouten more fpeche.
Our counfeil was not long for to feche;
Us thought it was not worth to make it wise,
And granted him withouten more avise,
And bad him fay his verdit as him lefte,
Lordinges, (quod he) now herkeneth for the beste;
But take it nat, I pray you, in difdain :
This is the point, to fpeke it plat and plain,
That eche of you to fhorten with youre way
In this viage fhal tellen Tales tway,

To Canterbury ward I mene it fo,

And homeward he shall tellen other two,

Of aventures that whilom han befalle.
And which of you that bereth him beft of alle,
That is to fayn, that telleth in this cas
Tales of beft fentence and most folas,
Shall have a fouper at youre aller cost
Here in this place fitting by this poft,
Whan that ye comen agen from Canterbury,
And for to maken you the more mery
I wol my felven gladly with you ride,
Right at min owen coft, and be your gide,
And who that wol my jugement withsay
Shal pay for alle we fpenden by the way.
And if ye vouchefauf that it be fo,
Telle me anon withouten wordes mo,
And I wol erly fhapen me therfore.

This thing was granted, and our othes swore
With ful glad herte, and praiden him alfo
That he wold vouchefauf for to don fo,
And that he wolde ben our governour,
And of our Tales juge and reportour,
And fette a fouper at a certain pris,
And we wol reuled ben at his devife
In highe and lowe*: and thus by on affent
We ben accorded to his jugement;

* In, or, De alto et boo, barb Lat. Haut et bas, Fr. were expreffions of entire fubinfion on onelide, and lovereignty ou the ther.

And therupon the win was fette anon: We dronken, and to reste wenten eche on Withouten any lenger tarying.

A morwe whan the day began to spring Up rofe our Hofte, and was our aller cok, And gaderd us togeder in a flok, And forth we riden a litel more than pas Unto the watering of Seint Thomas, And ther our Hofte began his hors arest, And faid, Lordes, herkeneth if you left : Ye wete your forword, and I it record: If even fong and morwe fong accord, Let fe now who fhal telle the first Tale: As ever mote I drinken win or ale Who fo is rebel to my jugement Shal pay for alle that by the way is spent. Now draweth cutte or that ye forther twinne; He which that hath the shortest fhal beginne. Sire Knight, (quod he) my maifter and my lord, Now draweth cutte, for that is min accord.

Cometh nere (quod he) my Lady Prioreffe
And ye fire Clerk; let be your fhamefastneffe,
Ne ftudieth nought: lay hand to every man.
Anon to drawen every wight began,
And shortly for tellen as it was,

Were it by aventure, or fort, or cas,

The fothe is this, the cutte fell on the Knight,
Of which ful blith and glad was every wight;
And tell he muft his Tale as was refon,
By forword and by composition,

As ye han herd; what nedeth wordes mo?
And whan this good man faw that it was so,
As he that wife was and obedient
To kepe his forword by his free affent,
He faide; Sithen I fhal begin this game,
What, welcome be the cutte a Goddes name.
Now let us ride, and hearkeneth what Isay.

And with that word we riden forth our way;
And he began with a right mery chere
His Tale anon, and faide as ye fhal here.

WHILOM, as oide stories tellen us,
Ther was a duk that highte Thefeus;
Of Athenes he was lord and governour,
And in his time fwiche a conquerour,
That greter was ther non under the fonne;
Ful many a riche contree had he wonne.
What with his wisdom and his chevalrie
He conquerd all the regne of Feminie,
That whilom was yeleped Scythia,
And wedded the fresfie quene Ipolita,

And brought hire home with him to his contree
With mochel glorie and great folempnitee,
And eke hire yonge fufter Emelie.
And thus with victorie and with melodie
Let I this worthy duk to Athenes ride,
And all his hoft in armes him befide.

And certes, if it n'ere to long to here,
I wolde have told you fully the manere
How 'wonnen was the regne of Feminie
By Thefeus and by his chevalrie,
And of the grete bataille for the nones
Betwix Athenes and the Amafones,
And how affeged was Ipolita,
The faire hardy quene of Scythia,
And of the fefte that was at hire wedding,
And of the temple at hire home coming;
But all this thing I mofte as now forbere:
I have, God wot, a large feld to ere,
And weke ben the oxen in my plow:
The remenent of my Tale is long ynow.
I wil not letten eke non of this route;
Let every felaw telle his Tale aboute,
And let fe now who fhal the fouper winne.
Ther as I left I will agen beginne.

This duk, of whom I made mentioun,
Whan he was comen almoft to the toun,
In all his wele and in his mofte pride,
He was ware, as he caft his eye afide,
Wher that ther kneled in the highe wey
A compagnie of ladies twey and twey,
Eche after other, clad in clothes blake;
But fwiche a crie and fwiche a wo they make,
That in this world n'is creature living
That ever herd swiche another waimenting;
And of this crie ne wolde they never ftenten
Till they the reines of his bridel henten.

What folk be ye that at min home coming Perturben fo my fefte with crying? Quod Thefeus; have ye fo grete envie Of min honour, that thus complaine and crie? Or who hath you mifboden or offended? Po telle me, if that it may be amended,

And why ye be thus clothed all in blake?

The oldeft lady of hem all than spake,
Whan fhe had fwouned with a dedly chere,
That it was reuthe for to feen and here.
She fayde, Lord, to whom Fortune hath yeven
Victorie, and as a conqueror to liven,

Nought greveth us your glorie and your honour,
But we befeke you of mercie and focour :
Have mercie on our woe and our diftreffe:
Some drope of pitee thurgh thy gentilleffe
Upon us wretched wimmen let now falle;
For certes, Lord, ther n'is non of us alle
That the n'hath ben a ducheffe or a quene;
Now be we caitives, as it is wel fene :
Thanked be Fortune and hire falfe whele
That non eftat enfure th to be wele.
And certes, Lord, to abiden your prefence,
Here in this temple of the goddeffe Clemence,
We han ben waiting all this fourtenight:
Now helpe us, Lord, fin it lieth in thy might.

I wretched wight, that wepe and waile thus,
Was whilom wif to King Capancus
That ftarfe at Thebes, curfed be that day;
And alle we that ben in this aray,
And maken all this lamentation,
We loften all our husbondes at that toun,
While that the fiege therabouten lay:
And yet now the olde Creon, wala wa !
That lord is now of Thebes the citee,
Fulfilled of ire and of iniquittee,
He for defpit, and for his tyrannie,
To don the ded bodies a vilanie,
Of alle our lordes, which that ben yflawe,
Hath alle the bodies on an hepe ydrawe,
And will not fuffren hem by non affent
Neyther to ben yberied ne ybrent,
But maketh houndes ete hem in defpite.

And with that word, withouten more refpite, They fallen groff, and crien pitously, Have on us wretched wimmen fom mercy, And let our forwe finken in thin herte.

This gentil duk doun from his courfer fterte With herte piteous whan he herd hem fpeke; Him thoughte that his herte wolde all to-breke When he faw hem fo pitous and fo mate That whilom weren of fo gret eftate, And in his armes he hem all up hente, And hem comforted in ful good entente, And fwore his oth, as he was trewe knight, He wolde don fo ferforthly his might Upon the tyrant Creen hem to wreke. That all the peple of Grece fhulde fpeke

How Creon was of Thefeus yferved,
As he that hath his deth ful wel deserved.
And right anon, withouten more abode,
His banner he difplaide, and forth he rode
To Thebes ward, and all his host befide:
No ner Athenes n'olde he go ne ride,
Ne take his efe fully half a day,

But onward on his way that night he lay,
And fent anon Ipolita the quene,
And Emelie hire younge fifter fhene,
Unto the toun of Athenes for to dwell;
And forth he rit; ther n'is no more to tell.

The red ftatue of Mars, with fpere and targe,
So fhineth in his white banner large,
That all the feldes gliteren up and doun;
And by his banner borne is his penon

Of gold ful riche, in which that ther was ybete
The Minotaure which that he flew in Crete.
Thus rit this duk, thus rit this conquerour,
And in his hoft of chevalrie the flour,
'Til that he came to Thebes, and alight
Fayre in a feld, ther as he thought to fight.
But fhortly for to fpeken of this thing,
With Creon, which that was of Thebes king
He fought, and flew him manly as a knight
In plaine bataille, and put his folk to flight;
And by affaut he wan the citee after,
And rent adoun bothe wall, and sparre, and rafter;
And to the ladies he reftored again

The bodies of hir houfbondes that were flain,
To don the obfequies, as was tho the gife.
But it were all to long for to devise
The grete clamour and the waimenting
Whiche that the ladies made at the brenning
Of the bodies, and the gret honour
That Thefeus, the noble conquerour,
Doth to the ladies whan they from him wente;
But fhortly for to telle is min entente.

Whan that this worthy duk, this Thefeus,
Hath Creon flain and wonnen Thebes thus,
Still in the feld he toke all night his refte;
And did with all the countree as him lefte;
To ranfake in the tas of bodies dede,
Hem for to stripe of harneis and of wede,
The pillours dide hir befineffe and cure,
After the bataille and difcomfiture;
And fo befell that in the tas they found,
Thurgh girt with many a grevous blody wound,
Two yonge knightes ligging by and by,
Bothe in on armes wrought ful richely;
Of whiche two Arcita highte that on,
And he that other highte Palamon.
Not fully quik ne fully ded they were,
But by hir cote armure and by hir gere
The heraudes knew him wel in special,
As tho that weren of the blod real
Of Thebes and of fuftren two yborne.
Out of the tas the pillours han hem torne,
And han hem carried foft unto the tente
Of Thefeus, and he ful fone hem fente
To Athenes, for to dwellen in prison
Perpétuel, he n'olde no raunfon.
And whan this worthy duk had thus ydon,
He toke his hoft, and home he rit anon,

With laurel crouned as a conquerour,
And ther he liveth in joye and in honour
Terme of his lif; what nedeth wordes mo?
And in a tour in anguish and in wo
Dwellen this Palamon and eke Arcite
For evermo, ther may no gold hem quite.
Thus paffeth yere by yere, and day by day,
Till it fell ones in a morwe of May
That Emelie, that fayrer was to fene
Than is the lilie upon his ftalke grene,
And fresher than the May with floures new,
(For with the rose colour strof hire hewe;
I n'ot which was the finer of hem two)
Er it was day, as she was wont to do,
She was arifen, and all redy dight,
For May wol have no flogardie a night;
The fefon priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his flepe to sterte,
And fayth, Arife, and do thin obfervance,

This maketh Emelie han remembrance
To don honour to May, and for to rife;
Yclothed was the fresfhe for to devife,
Hir yelwe here was broided in a treffe
Behind hire back, a yerde long I geffe;
And in the gardin at the fonne uprist
She walketh up and doun wher as hire lift:
She gathereth floures, partie white and red,
To make a fotel gerlond for hire hed;
And as an angel hevenlich fhe fong.
The grete tour that was fo thikke and strong,
Which of the caftel was the chef dongeon,
(Wher as these knightes we.en in prison,
Of which I tolde you, and tellen fhal)
Was even joinant to the gardin wall,
Ther as this Emelie had hire playing.

[ing

Bright was the fonne and clere that morwenAnd Palamon, this woful prifoner,

As was his wone, by leve of his gayler
Was rifen, and romed in a chambre on high,
In which he all the noble citee figh,
And eke the gardin, ful of branches grene,
Ther as this fresfhe Emelia the shene
Was in hire walk, and romed up and doun.

This forweful prifoner, this Palamon,
Goth in his chambre roming to and fro,
And to himselfe complaining of his wo:
That he was borne ful oft he fayd Alas!

And fo befell, by aventure or cas, That thurgh a window thikke of many a barre Of yren gret, and square as any sparre, He caft his eyen upon Emelia,

And therwithal he blent and cried A!
As though he ftongen were unto the herte:
And with that crie Arcite anon up fterte,
And faide, Cofin min, what eyleth thee
That art fo pale and dedly for to see?
Why crideft thou? who hath thee don offence?
For Goddes love take all in patience

This word has various fenfes in Chaucer, as it is derived from blinnan, ceffare; blindan, cecare, or blendan, mifcere. It feerns here to be used in a fourth fenfe, the fame in which Shakespeare ufes the verb to blench, i. e. to thrink or ftart afde. Johnjon's Diad. in v. Biench. See Gla in v. Blent, part, of Blench.

Our prifon, for it may non other be;
Fortune hath yeven us this adverfite:
Som wikke afpect or difpofition
Of Saturne, by fom constellation,
Hath yeven us this, although we had it fworn:
So ftood the heven whan that we were born:
We mofte endure; this is the short and plain.
This Palamon anfwerde, and fayde again,
Cofin, forfoth of this opinion
Thou haft a vaine imagination:
This prifon caufed me not for to crie,

But I was hurt right now thurghout min eye
Into min herte, that wol my bane be:
The fayrneffe of a lady that I fe
Yond in the gardin roming to and fro
Is caufe of all my crying and my wo:
I n'ot whe'r fhe be woman or goddeffe,
But Venus is it fothly as I geffe,

And therwithall on knees adoun he fill,
And fayde; Venus, if it be your will
You in this gardin thus to transfigure,
Beforn me forweful wretched treature,
Out of this prison helpe that we may scape;
And if fo be our destine be shape
By eterne word to dien in prifon,
Of our lignage have some compaffion,
That is fo low ybrought by tyrannie.
And with that word Arcita gan espie
Wher as this lady romed to and fro,
And with that fight hire beaute hurt him fo,
That if that Palamon were wounded fore
Arcite is hurt as moche as he or more:
And with a figh he fayde pitoufly,
The fresfhe beaute fleth me fodenly
Of hire that rometh in the yonder place;
And but I have hire mercie and hire grace,
That I may seen hire at the lefte way,
I n'am but ded; ther n'is no more to say.

This Palamon, whan he these wordes herd, Difpitoufly he loked, and answerd, Whether fayeft thou this in erneft or in play?

Nay, quod Arcite, in ernest by my fay;
God helpe me fo, me luft full yvel play.

This Palamon gan knit his browes twey.
It were, quod he, to thee no gret honour
For to be falfe, ne for to be traytour
To me, that am thy cofin and thy brother
Yfworne ful depe, and eche of us to other,
That never for to dien in the peine
Til that the deth departen fhal us tweine,
Neyther of us in love to hindre other,
Ne in non other cas, my leve brother;
But that thou fhuldeft trewely forther me
In every cas as I fhuld forther thee.
This was thin oth, and min also certain;
I wot it wel thou darst it not withfain :
Thus art thou of my confeil out of doute,
And now thou weldest falfly ben aboute
To love my lady whom I love and serve,
And ever fhal til that min herte fterve.

Now certes, falfe Arcite, thou shalt not fo:
I loved hire firfte, and tolde thee my wo.
As to my confeil, and my brother fworne
To forther me as I have told beforne,

For which thou art ybounden as a knight
To helpen me, if it lie in thy might,
Or elles art thou falfe I dare wel fain.

This Arcita full proudly fpake again.
Thou shalt, quod he, be rather falfe than I,
And thou art false, I tell thee utterly;
For par amour I loved hire first or thou.
What wolt thou fayn? thou wistest nat right now
Whether the were a woman or a goddeffe:
Thin is affection of holineffe,

And min is love as to a creature,
For which I tolde thee min aventure,
As to my cofin and my brother fworne.

I pofe that thou lovedeft hire beforne:
Woft thou not wel the olde clerkes fawe †,
That who shall give a lover any lawe?
Love is a greter lawe by my pan
Then may be yeven of any erthly man ;
And therfore pofitif lawe and fwiche decree
Is broken all day for love in eche degree.
A man mofte nedes love maugre his hed;
He may not fleen it though he fhuld be ded
All be the maid, or widewe, or elles wif.

And eke it is not likely all thy lif
To ftonden in hire grace, no more shal I;
For wel thou woft thy felven veraily
That thou and I be damned to prison
Perpetuel; us gaineth no raunfon.

We strive as did the houndes for the bone,
They fought all day, and yet hir part was none:
Ther came a kyte, while that they were fo wrothe
And bare away the bone betwix hem bothe.
And therfore at the kinges court, my brother,
Eche man for himself, ther is non other.
Love if thee luft, for I love, and ay shal;

And fothly, leve brother, this is al.

Here in this prison moften we endure,
And everich of us take his aventure.

Gret was the ftrif, and long betwix him twey,

If that I hadde leifer for to fey:
But to th' effect. It happed on a day,
(To tell it you as fhortly as I may)
A worthy duk that highte Perithous,
That felaw was to this duk Thefeus
Sin thilke day that they were children lite,
Was come to Athenes his felaw to visite,
And for to play as he was wont to do,
For in this world he loved no man so,
And he loved him as tendrely again:
So wel they loved, as olde bokes fain,
That whan that on was dede, fothly to tell,
His felaw wente and fought him doun in hell
But of that storie lift me not to write.

Duk Perithous loved wel Arcite,
And had him knowe at Thebes yere by yere
And finally, at request and praiere
Of Perithous, withouten any raunson,
Duk Thefeus him let out of prison,