The Canterbury Tales [117]
befell that on a day this frere Had preached at a church in his mannere, And specially, above every thing, Excited he the people in his preaching To trentals, <1> and to give, for Godde's sake, Wherewith men mighte holy houses make, There as divine service is honour'd, Not there as it is wasted and devour'd, Nor where it needeth not for to be given, As to possessioners, <2> that may liven, Thanked be God, in wealth and abundance. "Trentals," said he, "deliver from penance Their friendes' soules, as well old as young, Yea, when that they be hastily y-sung, -- Not for to hold a priest jolly and gay, He singeth not but one mass in a day. "Deliver out," quoth he, "anon the souls. Full hard it is, with flesh-hook or with owls* *awls To be y-clawed, or to burn or bake: <3> Now speed you hastily, for Christe's sake." And when this friar had said all his intent, With qui cum patre<4> forth his way he went, When folk in church had giv'n him what them lest;* *pleased He went his way, no longer would he rest, With scrip and tipped staff, *y-tucked high:* *with his robe tucked In every house he gan to pore* and pry, up high* *peer And begged meal and cheese, or elles corn. His fellow had a staff tipped with horn, A pair of tables* all of ivory, *writing tablets And a pointel* y-polish'd fetisly,** *pencil **daintily And wrote alway the names, as he stood; Of all the folk that gave them any good, Askaunce* that he woulde for them pray. *see note <5> "Give us a bushel wheat, or malt, or rey,* *rye A Godde's kichel,* or a trip** of cheese, *little cake<6> **scrap Or elles what you list, we may not chese;* *choose A Godde's halfpenny, <6> or a mass penny; Or give us of your brawn, if ye have any; A dagon* of your blanket, leve dame, *remnant Our sister dear, -- lo, here I write your name,-- Bacon or beef, or such thing as ye find." A sturdy harlot* went them aye behind, *manservant <7> That was their hoste's man, and bare a sack, And what men gave them, laid it on his back And when that he was out at door, anon He *planed away* the names every one, *rubbed out* That he before had written in his tables: He served them with nifles* and with fables. -- *silly tales
"Nay, there thou liest, thou Sompnour," quoth the Frere. "Peace," quoth our Host, "for Christe's mother dear; Tell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all." "So thrive I," quoth this Sompnour, "so I shall." --
So long he went from house to house, till he Came to a house, where he was wont to be Refreshed more than in a hundred places Sick lay the husband man, whose that the place is, Bed-rid upon a couche low he lay: *"Deus hic,"* quoth he; "O Thomas friend, good day," *God be here* Said this friar, all courteously and soft. "Thomas," quoth he, "God *yield it you,* full oft *reward you for* Have I upon this bench fared full well, Here have I eaten many a merry meal." And from the bench he drove away the cat, And laid adown his potent* and his hat, *staff <8> And eke his scrip, and sat himself adown: His fellow was y-walked into town Forth with his knave,* into that hostelry *servant Where as he shope* him that night to lie. *shaped, purposed
"O deare master," quoth this sicke man, "How have ye fared since that March began? I saw you not this fortenight and more." "God wot," quoth he, "labour'd have I full sore; And specially for thy salvation Have I said many a precious orison, And for mine other friendes, God them bless. I have this day been at your church at mess,* *mass And said sermon after my simple wit, Not all after the text of Holy Writ; For it is hard to you, as I suppose, And therefore will I teach you aye the glose.* *gloss, comment Glosing is a full glorious thing certain, For letter slayeth, as we clerkes* sayn.
"Nay, there thou liest, thou Sompnour," quoth the Frere. "Peace," quoth our Host, "for Christe's mother dear; Tell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all." "So thrive I," quoth this Sompnour, "so I shall." --
So long he went from house to house, till he Came to a house, where he was wont to be Refreshed more than in a hundred places Sick lay the husband man, whose that the place is, Bed-rid upon a couche low he lay: *"Deus hic,"* quoth he; "O Thomas friend, good day," *God be here* Said this friar, all courteously and soft. "Thomas," quoth he, "God *yield it you,* full oft *reward you for* Have I upon this bench fared full well, Here have I eaten many a merry meal." And from the bench he drove away the cat, And laid adown his potent* and his hat, *staff <8> And eke his scrip, and sat himself adown: His fellow was y-walked into town Forth with his knave,* into that hostelry *servant Where as he shope* him that night to lie. *shaped, purposed
"O deare master," quoth this sicke man, "How have ye fared since that March began? I saw you not this fortenight and more." "God wot," quoth he, "labour'd have I full sore; And specially for thy salvation Have I said many a precious orison, And for mine other friendes, God them bless. I have this day been at your church at mess,* *mass And said sermon after my simple wit, Not all after the text of Holy Writ; For it is hard to you, as I suppose, And therefore will I teach you aye the glose.* *gloss, comment Glosing is a full glorious thing certain, For letter slayeth, as we clerkes* sayn.