The Canterbury Tales [253]
his bosom, and shew'd to the priest. "This instrument," quoth he, "which that thou seest, Take in thine hand, and put thyself therein Of this quicksilver an ounce, and here begin, In the name of Christ, to wax a philosopher. There be full few, which that I woulde proffer To shewe them thus much of my science; For here shall ye see by experience That this quicksilver I will mortify,<13> Right in your sight anon withoute lie, And make it as good silver, and as fine, As there is any in your purse, or mine, Or elleswhere; and make it malleable, And elles holde me false and unable Amonge folk for ever to appear. I have a powder here that cost me dear, Shall make all good, for it is cause of all My conning,* which that I you shewe shall. *knowledge Voide* your man, and let him be thereout; *send away And shut the doore, while we be about Our privity, that no man us espy, While that we work in this phiosophy." All, as he bade, fulfilled was in deed. This ilke servant right anon out yede,* *went And his master y-shut the door anon, And to their labour speedily they gon.
This priest, at this cursed canon's biddIng, Upon the fire anon he set this thing, And blew the fire, and busied him full fast. And this canon into the croslet cast A powder, I know not whereof it was Y-made, either of chalk, either of glass, Or somewhat elles, was not worth a fly, To blinden* with this priest; and bade him hie** *deceive **make haste The coales for to couchen* all above lay in order The croslet; "for, in token I thee love," Quoth this canon, "thine owen handes two Shall work all thing that here shall be do'." *"Grand mercy,"* quoth the priest, and was full glad, *great thanks* And couch'd the coales as the canon bade. And while he busy was, this fiendly wretch, This false canon (the foule fiend him fetch), Out of his bosom took a beechen coal, In which full subtifly was made a hole, And therein put was of silver limaile* *filings An ounce, and stopped was withoute fail The hole with wax, to keep the limaile in. And understande, that this false gin* *contrivance Was not made there, but it was made before; And other thinges I shall tell you more, Hereafterward, which that he with him brought; Ere he came there, him to beguile he thought, And so he did, ere that they *went atwin;* *separated* Till he had turned him, could he not blin.* *cease <14> It doleth* me, when that I of him speak; *paineth On his falsehood fain would I me awreak,* *revenge myself If I wist how, but he is here and there; He is so variant,* he abides nowhere. *changeable
But take heed, Sirs, now for Godde's love. He took his coal, of which I spake above, And in his hand he bare it privily, And while the prieste couched busily The coales, as I tolde you ere this, This canon saide, "Friend, ye do amiss; This is not couched as it ought to be, But soon I shall amenden it," quoth he. "Now let me meddle therewith but a while, For of you have I pity, by Saint Gile. Ye be right hot, I see well how ye sweat; Have here a cloth, and wipe away the wet." And while that the prieste wip'd his face, This canon took his coal, -- *with sorry grace,* -- *evil fortune And layed it above on the midward attend him!* Of the croslet, and blew well afterward, Till that the coals beganne fast to brenn.* *burn "Now give us drinke," quoth this canon then, "And swithe* all shall be well, I undertake. *quickly Sitte we down, and let us merry make." And whenne that this canon's beechen coal Was burnt, all the limaile out of the hole Into the crosselet anon fell down; And so it muste needes, by reasoun, Since it above so *even couched* was; *exactly laid* But thereof wist the priest no thing, alas! He deemed all the coals alike good, For of the sleight he nothing understood.
This priest, at this cursed canon's biddIng, Upon the fire anon he set this thing, And blew the fire, and busied him full fast. And this canon into the croslet cast A powder, I know not whereof it was Y-made, either of chalk, either of glass, Or somewhat elles, was not worth a fly, To blinden* with this priest; and bade him hie** *deceive **make haste The coales for to couchen* all above lay in order The croslet; "for, in token I thee love," Quoth this canon, "thine owen handes two Shall work all thing that here shall be do'." *"Grand mercy,"* quoth the priest, and was full glad, *great thanks* And couch'd the coales as the canon bade. And while he busy was, this fiendly wretch, This false canon (the foule fiend him fetch), Out of his bosom took a beechen coal, In which full subtifly was made a hole, And therein put was of silver limaile* *filings An ounce, and stopped was withoute fail The hole with wax, to keep the limaile in. And understande, that this false gin* *contrivance Was not made there, but it was made before; And other thinges I shall tell you more, Hereafterward, which that he with him brought; Ere he came there, him to beguile he thought, And so he did, ere that they *went atwin;* *separated* Till he had turned him, could he not blin.* *cease <14> It doleth* me, when that I of him speak; *paineth On his falsehood fain would I me awreak,* *revenge myself If I wist how, but he is here and there; He is so variant,* he abides nowhere. *changeable
But take heed, Sirs, now for Godde's love. He took his coal, of which I spake above, And in his hand he bare it privily, And while the prieste couched busily The coales, as I tolde you ere this, This canon saide, "Friend, ye do amiss; This is not couched as it ought to be, But soon I shall amenden it," quoth he. "Now let me meddle therewith but a while, For of you have I pity, by Saint Gile. Ye be right hot, I see well how ye sweat; Have here a cloth, and wipe away the wet." And while that the prieste wip'd his face, This canon took his coal, -- *with sorry grace,* -- *evil fortune And layed it above on the midward attend him!* Of the croslet, and blew well afterward, Till that the coals beganne fast to brenn.* *burn "Now give us drinke," quoth this canon then, "And swithe* all shall be well, I undertake. *quickly Sitte we down, and let us merry make." And whenne that this canon's beechen coal Was burnt, all the limaile out of the hole Into the crosselet anon fell down; And so it muste needes, by reasoun, Since it above so *even couched* was; *exactly laid* But thereof wist the priest no thing, alas! He deemed all the coals alike good, For of the sleight he nothing understood.