The Canterbury Tales [248]
'to multiply gold or silver, or to use the art of multiplication.'" Tyrwhitt finds in the prologue some colour for the hypothesis that this Tale was intended by Chaucer to begin the return journey from Canterbury; but against this must be set the fact that the Yeoman himself expressly speaks of the distance to Canterbury yet to be ridden.
2. Fully five mile: From some place which the loss of the Second Nun's Prologue does not enable us to identify.
3. Peytrel: the breast-plate of a horse's harness; French, "poitrail."
4. A maile twyfold: a double valise; a wallet hanging across the crupper on either side of the horse.
5. Multiply: transmute metals, in the attempt to multiply gold and silver by alchemy.
6. "Conscius ipse sibi de se putat omnia dici" ("The conspirator believes that everything spoken refers to himself") -- "De Moribus," I. i. dist. 17.
THE TALE. <1>
With this Canon I dwelt have seven year, And of his science am I ne'er the near* *nearer All that I had I have lost thereby, And, God wot, so have many more than I. Where I was wont to be right fresh and gay Of clothing, and of other good array Now may I wear an hose upon mine head; And where my colour was both fresh and red, Now is it wan, and of a leaden hue (Whoso it useth, sore shall he it rue); And of my swink* yet bleared is mine eye; *labour Lo what advantage is to multiply! That sliding* science hath me made so bare, *slippery, deceptive That I have no good,* where that ever I fare; *property And yet I am indebted so thereby Of gold, that I have borrow'd truely, That, while I live, I shall it quite* never; *repay Let every man beware by me for ever. What manner man that casteth* him thereto, *betaketh If he continue, I hold *his thrift y-do;* *prosperity at an end* So help me God, thereby shall he not win, But empty his purse, and make his wittes thin. And when he, through his madness and folly, Hath lost his owen good through jupartie,* *hazard <2> Then he exciteth other men thereto, To lose their good as he himself hath do'. For unto shrewes* joy it is and ease *wicked folk To have their fellows in pain and disease.* *trouble Thus was I ones learned of a clerk; Of that no charge;* I will speak of our work. *matter
When we be there as we shall exercise Our elvish* craft, we seeme wonder wise, *fantastic, wicked Our termes be so *clergial and quaint.* *learned and strange I blow the fire till that mine hearte faint. Why should I tellen each proportion Of thinges, whiche that we work upon, As on five or six ounces, may well be, Of silver, or some other quantity? And busy me to telle you the names, As orpiment, burnt bones, iron squames,* *scales <3> That into powder grounden be full small? And in an earthen pot how put is all, And, salt y-put in, and also peppere, Before these powders that I speak of here, And well y-cover'd with a lamp of glass? And of much other thing which that there was? And of the pots and glasses engluting,* *sealing up That of the air might passen out no thing? And of the easy* fire, and smart** also, *slow **quick Which that was made? and of the care and woe That we had in our matters subliming, And in amalgaming, and calcining Of quicksilver, called mercury crude? For all our sleightes we can not conclude. Our orpiment, and sublim'd mercury, Our ground litharge* eke on the porphyry, *white lead Of each of these of ounces a certain,* *certain proportion Not helpeth us, our labour is in vain. Nor neither our spirits' ascensioun, Nor our matters that lie all fix'd adown, May in our working nothing us avail; For lost is all our labour and travail, And all the cost, a twenty devil way, Is lost also, which we upon it lay.
There is also full many another thing That is unto our craft appertaining,
2. Fully five mile: From some place which the loss of the Second Nun's Prologue does not enable us to identify.
3. Peytrel: the breast-plate of a horse's harness; French, "poitrail."
4. A maile twyfold: a double valise; a wallet hanging across the crupper on either side of the horse.
5. Multiply: transmute metals, in the attempt to multiply gold and silver by alchemy.
6. "Conscius ipse sibi de se putat omnia dici" ("The conspirator believes that everything spoken refers to himself") -- "De Moribus," I. i. dist. 17.
THE TALE. <1>
With this Canon I dwelt have seven year, And of his science am I ne'er the near* *nearer All that I had I have lost thereby, And, God wot, so have many more than I. Where I was wont to be right fresh and gay Of clothing, and of other good array Now may I wear an hose upon mine head; And where my colour was both fresh and red, Now is it wan, and of a leaden hue (Whoso it useth, sore shall he it rue); And of my swink* yet bleared is mine eye; *labour Lo what advantage is to multiply! That sliding* science hath me made so bare, *slippery, deceptive That I have no good,* where that ever I fare; *property And yet I am indebted so thereby Of gold, that I have borrow'd truely, That, while I live, I shall it quite* never; *repay Let every man beware by me for ever. What manner man that casteth* him thereto, *betaketh If he continue, I hold *his thrift y-do;* *prosperity at an end* So help me God, thereby shall he not win, But empty his purse, and make his wittes thin. And when he, through his madness and folly, Hath lost his owen good through jupartie,* *hazard <2> Then he exciteth other men thereto, To lose their good as he himself hath do'. For unto shrewes* joy it is and ease *wicked folk To have their fellows in pain and disease.* *trouble Thus was I ones learned of a clerk; Of that no charge;* I will speak of our work. *matter
When we be there as we shall exercise Our elvish* craft, we seeme wonder wise, *fantastic, wicked Our termes be so *clergial and quaint.* *learned and strange I blow the fire till that mine hearte faint. Why should I tellen each proportion Of thinges, whiche that we work upon, As on five or six ounces, may well be, Of silver, or some other quantity? And busy me to telle you the names, As orpiment, burnt bones, iron squames,* *scales <3> That into powder grounden be full small? And in an earthen pot how put is all, And, salt y-put in, and also peppere, Before these powders that I speak of here, And well y-cover'd with a lamp of glass? And of much other thing which that there was? And of the pots and glasses engluting,* *sealing up That of the air might passen out no thing? And of the easy* fire, and smart** also, *slow **quick Which that was made? and of the care and woe That we had in our matters subliming, And in amalgaming, and calcining Of quicksilver, called mercury crude? For all our sleightes we can not conclude. Our orpiment, and sublim'd mercury, Our ground litharge* eke on the porphyry, *white lead Of each of these of ounces a certain,* *certain proportion Not helpeth us, our labour is in vain. Nor neither our spirits' ascensioun, Nor our matters that lie all fix'd adown, May in our working nothing us avail; For lost is all our labour and travail, And all the cost, a twenty devil way, Is lost also, which we upon it lay.
There is also full many another thing That is unto our craft appertaining,