Geoffrey Chaucer - The Canterbury Tales (The Friar's Tale) lyrics

Whilom there was dwelling in my country An archdeacon, a man of high degree, That boldely did execution, In punishing of fornication, Of witchecraft, and eke of bawdery, Of defamation, and adultery, Of churche-reeves, and of testaments, Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments, And eke of many another manner crime, Which needeth not rehearsen at this time, Of usury, and simony also; But, certes, lechours did he greatest woe; They shoulde singen, if that they were hent; And smale tithers were foul y-shent, If any person would on them complain; There might astert them no pecunial pain. For smalle tithes, and small offering, He made the people piteously to sing; For ere the bishop caught them with his crook, They weren in the archedeacon's book; Then had he, through his jurisdiction, Power to do on them correction. He had a Sompnour ready to his hand, A slier boy was none in Engleland; For subtlely he had his espiaille, That taught him well where it might aught avail. He coulde spare of lechours one or two, To teache him to four and twenty mo'. For, — though this Sompnour wood be as a hare, — To tell his harlotry I will not spare, For we be out of their correction, They have of us no jurisdiction, Ne never shall have, term of all their lives. "Peter; so be the women of the stives," Quoth this Sompnour, "y-put out of our cure." "Peace, with mischance and with misaventure," Our Hoste said, "and let him tell his tale. Now telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale, Nor spare not, mine owen master dear." This false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere), Had always bawdes ready to his hand, As any hawk to lure in Engleland, That told him all the secrets that they knew, — For their acquaintance was not come of new; They were his approvers privily. He took himself at great profit thereby: His master knew not always what he wan. Withoute mandement, a lewed man He could summon, on pain of Christe's curse, And they were inly glad to fill his purse, And make him greate feastes at the nale. And right as Judas hadde purses smale, And was a thief, right such a thief was he, His master had but half his duety. He was (if I shall give him his laud) A thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd. And he had wenches at his retinue, That whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh, Or Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were That lay by them, they told it in his ear. Thus were the wench and he of one a**ent; And he would fetch a feigned mandement, And to the chapter summon them both two, And pill the man, and let the wenche go. Then would he say, "Friend, I shall for thy sake Do strike thee out of oure letters blake; Thee thar no more as in this case travail; I am thy friend where I may thee avail." Certain he knew of bribers many mo' Than possible is to tell in yeare's two: For in this world is no dog for the bow, That can a hurt deer from a whole know, Bet than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour, Or an adult'rer, or a paramour: And, for that was the fruit of all his rent, Therefore on it he set all his intent. And so befell, that once upon a day. This Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey, Rode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe, Feigning a cause, for he would have a bribe. And happen'd that he saw before him ride A gay yeoman under a forest side: A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen, He had upon a courtepy of green, A hat upon his head with fringes blake. "Sir," quoth this Sompnour, "hail, and well o'ertake." "Welcome," quoth he, "and every good fellaw; Whither ridest thou under this green shaw?" Saide this yeoman; "wilt thou far to-day?" This Sompnour answer'd him, and saide, "Nay. Here faste by," quoth he, "is mine intent To ride, for to raisen up a rent, That longeth to my lorde's duety." "Ah! art thou then a bailiff?" "Yea," quoth he. He durste not for very filth and shame Say that he was a Sompnour, for the name. "De par dieux," quoth this yeoman, "leve Thou art a bailiff, and I am another. I am unknowen, as in this country. Of thine acquaintance I will praye thee, And eke of brotherhood, if that thee list. I have gold and silver lying in my chest; If that thee hap to come into our shire, All shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire." "Grand mercy," quoth this Sompnour, "by my faith." Each in the other's hand his trothe lay'th, For to be sworne brethren till they dey. In dalliance they ride forth and play. This Sompnour, which that was as full of jangles, As full of venom be those wariangles, And ev'r inquiring upon every thing, "Brother," quoth he, "where is now your dwelling, Another day if that I should you seech?" This yeoman him answered in soft speech; Brother," quoth he, "far in the North country, Where as I hope some time I shall thee see Ere we depart I shall thee so well wiss, That of mine house shalt thou never miss." Now, brother," quoth this Sompnour, "I you pray, Teach me, while that we ride by the way, (Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,) Some subtilty, and tell me faithfully For mine office how that I most may win. And spare not for conscience or for sin, But, as my brother, tell me how do ye." Now by my trothe, brother mine," said he, As I shall tell to thee a faithful tale: My wages be full strait and eke full smale; My lord is hard to me and dangerous, And mine office is full laborious; And therefore by extortion I live, Forsooth I take all that men will me give. Algate by sleighte, or by violence, From year to year I win all my dispence; I can no better tell thee faithfully." Now certes," quoth this Sompnour, "so fare I; I spare not to take, God it wot, But if it be too heavy or too hot. What I may get in counsel privily, No manner conscience of that have I. N'ere mine extortion, I might not live, For of such japes will I not be shrive. Stomach nor conscience know I none; I shrew these shrifte-fathers every one. Well be we met, by God and by St Jame. But, leve brother, tell me then thy name," Quoth this Sompnour. Right in this meane while This yeoman gan a little for to smile. "Brother," quoth he, "wilt thou that I thee tell? I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell, And here I ride about my purchasing, To know where men will give me any thing. My purchase is th' effect of all my rent Look how thou ridest for the same intent sole revenue To winne good, thou reckest never how, Right so fare I, for ride will I now Into the worlde's ende for a prey." "Ah," quoth this Sompnour, "benedicite! what say y'? I weened ye were a yeoman truly. thought Ye have a manne's shape as well as I Have ye then a figure determinate In helle, where ye be in your estate?" "Nay, certainly," quoth he, there have we none, But when us liketh we can take us one, Or elles make you seem that we be shape Sometime like a man, or like an ape; Or like an angel can I ride or go; It is no wondrous thing though it be so, A lousy juggler can deceive thee. And pardie, yet can I more craft than he." "Why," quoth the Sompnour, "ride ye then or gon In sundry shapes and not always in one?" "For we," quoth he, "will us in such form make. As most is able our prey for to take." "What maketh you to have all this labour?" "Full many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour," Saide this fiend. "But all thing hath a time; The day is short and it is pa**ed prime, And yet have I won nothing in this day; I will intend to winning, if I may, And not intend our thinges to declare: For, brother mine, thy wit is all too bare To understand, although I told them thee. But for thou askest why laboure we: For sometimes we be Godde's instruments And meanes to do his commandements, When that him list, upon his creatures, In divers acts and in divers figures: Withoute him we have no might certain, If that him list to stande thereagain. And sometimes, at our prayer have we leave Only the body, not the soul, to grieve: Witness on Job, whom that we did full woe, And sometimes have we might on both the two, — This is to say, on soul and body eke, And sometimes be we suffer'd for to seek Upon a man and do his soul unrest And not his body, and all is for the best, When he withstandeth our temptation, It is a cause of his salvation, Albeit that it was not our intent He should be safe, but that we would him hent. And sometimes be we servants unto man, As to the archbishop Saint Dunstan, And to th'apostle servant eke was I." "Yet tell me," quoth this Sompnour, "faithfully, Make ye you newe bodies thus alway Of th' elements?" The fiend answered, "Nay: Sometimes we feign, and sometimes we arise With deade bodies, in full sundry wise, And speak as reas'nably, and fair, and well, As to the Pythoness did Samuel: And yet will some men say it was not he. I do no force of your divinity. But one thing warn I thee, I will not jape, Thou wilt algates weet how we be shape: Thou shalt hereafterward, my brother dear, Come, where thee needeth not of me to lear. For thou shalt by thine own experience Conne in a chair to rede of this sentence, Better than Virgil, while he was alive, what I have said Or Dante also. Now let us ride blive, For I will holde company with thee, Till it be so that thou forsake me." "Nay," quoth this Sompnour, "that shall ne'er betide. I am a yeoman, that is known full wide; My trothe will I hold, as in this case; For though thou wert the devil Satanas, My trothe will I hold to thee, my brother, As I have sworn, and each of us to other, For to be true brethren in this case, And both we go abouten our purchase. Take thou thy part, what that men will thee give, may pick up And I shall mine, thus may we bothe live. And if that any of us have more than other, Let him be true, and part it with his brother." "I grante," quoth the devil, "by my fay." And with that word they rode forth their way, And right at th'ent'ring of the towne's end, To which this Sompnour shope him for to wend, They saw a cart, that charged was with hay, Which that a carter drove forth on his way. Deep was the way, for which the carte stood: The carter smote, and cried as he were wood, "Heit Scot! heit Brok! what, spare ye for the stones? The fiend (quoth he) you fetch body and bones, As farforthly as ever ye were foal'd, So muche woe as I have with you tholed. The devil have all, horses, and cart, and hay." The Sompnour said, "Here shall we have a prey," And near the fiend he drew, as nought ne were, Full privily, and rowned in his ear: were the matter "Hearken, my brother, hearken, by thy faith, Hearest thou not, how that the carter saith? Hent it anon, for he hath giv'n it thee, Both hay and cart, and eke his capels three." "Nay," quoth the devil, "God wot, never a deal, It is not his intent, trust thou me well; Ask him thyself, if thou not trowest me, Or elles stint a while and thou shalt see." The carter thwack'd his horses on the croup, And they began to drawen and to stoop. "Heit now," quoth he; "there, Jesus Christ you bless, And all his handiwork, both more and less! That was well twight, mine owen liart, I pray God save thy body, and Saint Loy! Now is my cart out of the slough, pardie." "Lo, brother," quoth the fiend, "what told I thee? Here may ye see, mine owen deare brother, The churl spake one thing, but he thought another. Let us go forth abouten our voyage; Here win I nothing upon this carriage." When that they came somewhat out of the town, This Sompnour to his brother gan to rown; "Brother," quoth he, "here wons an old rebeck, That had almost as lief to lose her neck. As for to give a penny of her good. I will have twelvepence, though that she be wood, Or I will summon her to our office; And yet, God wot, of her know I no vice. But for thou canst not, as in this country, Winne thy cost, take here example of me." This Sompnour clapped at the widow's gate: "Come out," he said, "thou olde very trate; I trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee." "Who clappeth?" said this wife; "benedicite, God save you, Sir, what is your sweete will?" "I have," quoth he, "of summons here a bill. Up pain of cursing, looke that thou be To-morrow before our archdeacon's knee, To answer to the court of certain things." "Now Lord," quoth she, "Christ Jesus, king of kings, So wis1y helpe me, as I not may. I have been sick, and that full many a day. I may not go so far," quoth she, "nor ride, But I be dead, so pricketh it my side. May I not ask a libel, Sir Sompnour, And answer there by my procuratour To such thing as men would appose me?" "Yes," quoth this Sompnour, "pay anon, let see, Twelvepence to me, and I will thee acquit. I shall no profit have thereby but lit: My master hath the profit and not I. Come off, and let me ride hastily; Give me twelvepence, I may no longer tarry." "Twelvepence!" quoth she; "now lady Sainte Mary So wisly help me out of care and sin, This wide world though that I should it win, No have I not twelvepence within my hold. Ye know full well that I am poor and old; Kithe your almes upon me poor wretch." "Nay then," quoth he, "the foule fiend me fetch, If I excuse thee, though thou should'st be spilt." "Alas!" quoth she, "God wot, I have no guilt." "Pay me," quoth he, "or, by the sweet Saint Anne, As I will bear away thy newe pan For debte, which thou owest me of old, — When that thou madest thine husband cuckold, — I paid at home for thy correction." "Thou liest," quoth she, "by my salvation; Never was I ere now, widow or wife, Summon'd unto your court in all my life; Nor never I was but of my body true. Unto the devil rough and black of hue Give I thy body and my pan also." And when the devil heard her curse so Upon her knees, he said in this mannere; "Now, Mabily, mine owen mother dear, Is this your will in earnest that ye say?" "The devil," quoth she, "so fetch him ere he dey, And pan and all, but he will him repent." "Nay, olde stoat, that is not mine intent," Quoth this Sompnour, "for to repente me For any thing that I have had of thee; I would I had thy smock and every cloth." "Now, brother," quoth the devil, "be not wroth; Thy body and this pan be mine by right. Thou shalt with me to helle yet tonight, Where thou shalt knowen of our privity More than a master of divinity." And with that word the foule fiend him hent. Body and soul, he with the devil went, Where as the Sompnours have their heritage; And God, that maked after his image Mankinde, save and guide us all and some, And let this Sompnour a good man become. Lordings, I could have told you (quoth this Frere), Had I had leisure for this Sompnour here, After the text of Christ, and Paul, and John, And of our other doctors many a one, Such paines, that your heartes might agrise, Albeit so, that no tongue may devise, — Though that I might a thousand winters tell, — The pains of thilke cursed house of hell But for to keep us from that cursed place Wake we, and pray we Jesus, of his grace, So keep us from the tempter, Satanas. Hearken this word, beware as in this case. The lion sits in his await alway To slay the innocent, if that he may. Disposen aye your heartes to withstond The fiend that would you make thrall and bond; He may not tempte you over your might, For Christ will be your champion and your knight; And pray, that this our Sompnour him repent Of his misdeeds ere that the fiend him hent.