The Canterbury Tales

By Geoffrey Chaucer.

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The Prologue

When that Aprilis, with his showers swoot,1
The drought of March hath pierced to the root,
And bathed every vein in such licóur,
Of which virtúe engender’d is the flower;
When Zephyrus eke with his swootë breath
Inspired hath in every holt2 and heath
The tender croppës,3 and the youngë sun
Hath in the Ram4 his halfë course y-run,
And smallë fowlës makë melody,
That sleepen all the night with open eye,
(So pricketh them natúre in their coráges5);
Then longë folk to go on pilgrimages,
And palmers6 for to seekë strangë strands,
To fernë hallows couth7 in sundry lands;
And specially, from every shirë’s end
Of Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,
The holy blissful Martyr for to seek,
That them hath holpen, when that they were sick.

Befell that, in that season on a day,
In Southwark at the Tabard8 as I lay,
Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devout coráge,
At night was come into that hostelry
Well nine and twenty in a company
Of sundry folk, by áventure y-fall
In fellowship,9 and pilgrims were they all,
That toward Canterbury wouldë ride.
The chamber, and the stables werë wide,
And well we weren eased at the best.10
And shortly, when the sunnë was to rest,
So had I spoken with them every one,
That I was of their fellowship anon,
And madë forword11 early for to rise,
To take our way there as I you devise.12

But natheless, while I have time and space,
Ere that I farther in this talë pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to reasón,
To tell you allë the condition
Of each of them, so as it seemed me,
And which they weren, and of what degree;
And eke in what array that they were in:
And at a Knight then will I first begin.

A Knight there was, and that a worthy man,
That from the timë that he first began
To riden out, he loved chivalry,
Truth and honoúr, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his Lordë’s war,
And thereto had he ridden, no man farre,13
As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,
And ever honour’d for his worthiness.
At Alisandre14 he was when it was won.
Full often time he had the board begun
Above allë natións in Prusse.15
In Lettowe had he reysed,16 and in Russe,
No Christian man so oft of his degree.
In Grenade at the siege eke had he be
Of Algesir,17 and ridden in Belmarie.18
At Leyës was he, and at Satalie,
When they were won; and in the Greatë Sea19
At many a noble army had he be.
At mortal battles had he been fifteen,
And foughten for our faith at Tramissene.20
In listës thriës, and aye slain his foe.
This ilkë21 worthy knight had been also
Some timë with the lord of Palatie,22
Against another heathen in Turkie:
And evermore he had a sovereign price.23
And though that he was worthy he was wise,
And of his port as meek as is a maid.
He never yet no villainy24 ne said
In all his life, unto no manner wight.
He was a very perfect gentle knight.
But for to tellë you of his array,
His horse was good, but yet he was not gay.
Of fustian he weared a gipon,
Allë besmotter’d with his habergeon,25
For he was late y-come from his voyáge,
And wentë for to do his pilgrimage.

With him there was his son, a youngë Squire,
A lover, and a lusty bacheler,
With lockës crulle26 as they were laid in press.
Of twenty year of age he was I guess.
Of his statúre he was of even length,
And wonderly deliver,27 and great of strength.
And he had been some time in chevachie,28
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,
And borne him well, as of so little space,29
In hope to standen in his lady’s grace.
Embroider’d was he, as it were a mead
All full of freshë flowers, white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleevës long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse, and fairë ride.
He couldë songës make, and well indite,
Joust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.
So hot he loved, that by nightertale30
He slept no more than doth the nightingale.
Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,
And carv’d before his father at the table.31

A Yeoman had he, and servánts no mo’
At that timë, for him list ridë so;32
And he was clad in coat and hood of green.
A sheaf of peacock arrows33 bright and keen
Under his belt he bare full thriftily.
Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly:
His arrows drooped not with feathers low;
And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.
A nut-head34 had he, with a brown viságe:
Of wood-craft coud35 he well all the uságe:
Upon his arm he bare a gay bracér,36
And by his side a sword and a bucklér,
And on that other side a gay daggere,
Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:
A Christopher37 on his breast of silver sheen.
An horn he bare, the baldric was of green:
A forester38 was he soothly39 as I guess.

There was also a Nun, a Prioress,
That of her smiling was full simple and coy;
Her greatest oathë was but by Saint Loy;40
And she was cleped41 Madame Eglentine.
Full well she sang the servicë divine,
Entuned in her nose full seemëly;42
And French she spake full fair and fetisly43
After the school of Stratford attë Bow,
For French of Paris was to her unknow.
At meatë was she well y-taught withal;
She let no morsel from her lippës fall,
Nor wet her fingers in her saucë deep.
Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep,
That no droppë ne fell upon her breast.
In courtesy was set full much her lest.44
Her over-lippë wiped she so clean,
That in her cup there was no farthing45 seen
Of greasë, when she drunken had her draught;
Full seemëly after her meat she raught:46
And sickerly she was of great disport,47
And full pleasánt, and amiable of port,
And pained her to counterfeitë cheer
Of court,48 and be estately of mannére,
And to be holden digne49 of reverence.

But for to speaken of her consciénce,
She was so charitable and so pitous,50
She wouldë weep if that she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.
Of smallë houndës had she, that she fed
With roasted flesh, and milk, and wastel bread.51
But sore she wept if one of them were dead,
Or if men smote it with a yardë52 smart:
And all was conscience and tender heart.
Full seemly her wimple y-pinched was;
Her nose tretis;53 her eyen gray as glass;54
Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;
But sickerly she had a fair forehéad.
It was almost a spannë broad I trow;
For hardily she was not undergrow.55
Full fetis56 was her cloak, as I was ware.
Of small corál about her arm she bare
A pair of beadës, gauded all with green;57
And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,
On which was first y-written a crown’d A,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.
Another Nun also with her had she,
[That was her chapelléine, and Priestës three.]

A Monk there was, a fair for the mast’ry,58
An outrider, that loved venery;59
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
Full many a dainty horse had he in stable:
And when he rode, men might his bridle hear
Jingeling60 in a whistling wind as clear,
And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,
There as this lord was keeper of the cell.
The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet,61
Because that it was old and somedeal62 strait,
This ilkë63 monk let oldë thingës pace,
And held after the newë world the trace.
He gave not of the text a pulled hen,64
That saith, that hunters be not holy men;
Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless;
Is like to a fish that is waterless;
This is to say, a monk out of his cloister.
This ilkë text held he not worth an oyster;
And I say his opinion was good.
Why should he study, and make himselfë wood,65
Upon a book in cloister always pore,
Or swinken66 with his handës, and laboúr,
As Austin bit?67 how shall the world be served?
Let Austin have his swink to him reserved.
Therefore he was a prickasour aright:68
Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight:
Of pricking69 and of hunting for the hare
Was all his lust,70 for no cost would he spare.
I saw his sleevës purfil’d at the hand
With gris,71 and that the finest of the land.
And for to fasten his hood under his chin,
He had of gold y-wrought a curious pin:
A love-knot in the greater end there was.
His head was bald, and shone as any glass,
And eke his face, as it had been anoint;
He was a lord full fat and in good point;
His eyen steep,72 and rolling in his head,
That steamed as a furnace of a lead.
His bootës supple, his horse in great estate,
Now certainly he was a fair preláte;
He was not pale as a forpined73 ghost;
A fat swan lov’d he best of any roast.
His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.

A Friar there was, a wanton and a merry,
A limitour,74 a full solemnë man.
In all the orders four is none that can75
So much of dalliance and fair languáge.
He had y-made full many a marriáge
Of youngë women, at his owen cost.
Unto his order he was a noble post;
Full well belov’d, and familiár was he
With franklins over all76 in his countrý,
And eke with worthy women of the town:
For he had power of confessión,
As said himselfë, more than a curáte,
For of his order he was licentiate.
Full sweetëly heard he confession,
And pleasant was his absolution.
He was an easy man to give penánce,
There as he wist to have a good pittánce:77
For unto a poor order for to give
Is signë that a man is well y-shrive.78
For if he gave, he durstë make avant,79
He wistë that the man was repentant.
For many a man so hard is of his heart,
He may not weep although him sorë smart.
Therefore instead of weeping and prayéres,
Men must give silver to the poorë freres.

His tippet was aye farsed80 full of knives,
And pinnës, for to give to fairë wives;
And certainly he had a merry note:
Well could he sing and playen on a rote;81
Of yeddings82 he bare utterly the prize.
His neck was white as is the fleur-de-lis.
Thereto he strong was as a champion,
And knew well the tavérns in every town.
And every hosteler and gay tapstére,
Better than a lazar83 or a beggére,
For unto such a worthy man as he
Accordeth not, as by his faculty,
To havë with such lazars acquaintánce.
It is not honest, it may not advance,
As for to dealë with no such pouraille,84
But all with rich, and sellers of vitaille.
And ov’r all there as85 profit should arise,
Courteous he was, and lowly of servíce;
There n’as no man nowhere86 so virtuous.
He was the bestë beggar in all his house:
And gave a certain farmë87 for the grant,
None of his bretheren came in his haunt.
For though a widow haddë but one shoe,
So pleasant was his In principio,88
Yet would he have a farthing ere he went;
His purchase was well better than his rent.
And rage he could and play as any whelp,
In lovëdays;89 there could he muchel help.90
For there was he not like a cloisterer,
With threadbare cope, as is a poor scholer,
But he was like a master or a pope.
Of double worsted was his semicope,91
That rounded was as a bell out of press.
Somewhat he lisped for his wantonness,
To make his English sweet upon his tongue;
And in his harping, when that he had sung,
His eyen twinkled in his head aright,
As do the starrës in a frosty night.
This worthy limitour was call’d Hubérd.

A Merchant was there with a forked beard,
In motley, and high on his horse he sat,
Upon his head a Flandrish beaver hat.
His bootës clasped fair and fetisly.92
His reasons aye spake he full solemnly,
Sounding alway th’ increase of his winning.
He would the sea were kept93 for any thing
Betwixtë Middleburg and Orëwell.94
Well could he in exchangë shieldës95 sell.
This worthy man full well his wit beset;96
There wistë no wight that he was in debt,
So estately was he of governance97
With his bargáins, and with his chevisance.98
For sooth he was a worthy man withal,
But sooth to say, I n’ot99 how men him call.

A Clerk there was of Oxenford100 also,
That unto logic haddë long y-go.101
As leanë was his horse as is a rake,
And he was not right fat, I undertake;
But looked hollow,102 and thereto soberly.103
Full threadbare was his overest courtepy,104
For he had gotten him yet no benefice,
Ne was not worldly, to have an office.
For him was lever105 have at his bed’s head
Twenty bookës, clothed in black or red,
Of Aristotle, and his philosophy,
Than robës rich, or fiddle, or psalt’ry.
But all be that he was a philosópher,
Yet haddë he but little gold in coffer,
But all that he might of his friendës hent,106
On bookës and on learning he it spent,
And busily gan for the soulës pray
Of them that gave him wherewith to scholay.107
Of study took he mostë care and heed.
Not one word spake he morë than was need;
And that was said in form and reverence,
And short and quick, and full of high senténce.
Sounding in moral virtue was his speech,
And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.

A Sergeant of the Law, wary and wise,
That often had y-been at the Parvis,108
There was also, full rich of excellence.
Discreet he was, and of great reverence:
He seemed such, his wordës were so wise,
Justice he was full often in assize,
By patent, and by plein109 commission;
For his sciénce, and for his high renown,
Of fees and robës had he many one.
So great a purchaser was nowhere none.
All was fee simple to him, in effect
His purchasing might not be in suspect.110
Nowhere so busy a man as he there was,
And yet he seemed busier than he was.
In termës had he case’ and doomës111 all,
That from the time of King Will. werë fall.
Thereto he could indite, and make a thing,
There couldë no wight pinch at his writing.112
And every statute coud113 he plain by rote.
He rode but homely in a medley114 coat,
Girt with a seint115 of silk, with barrës small;
Of his array tell I no longer tale.

A Frankëlin116 was in this company;
White was his beard, as is the daïsy.
Of his complexión he was sanguíne.
Well lov’d he in the morn a sop in wine.
To liven in delight was ever his won,117
For he was Epicurus’ owen son,
That held opinion, that plein118 delight
Was verily felicity perfíte.
An householder, and that a great, was he;
Saint Julian119 he was in his countrý.
His bread, his ale, was alway after one;120
A better envined121 man was nowhere none;
Withouten bake-meat never was his house,
Of fish and flesh, and that so plentëous,
It snowed in his house of meat and drink,
Of allë dainties that men couldë think.
After the sundry seasons of the year,
So changed he his meat and his soupére.
Full many a fat partridge had he in mew,122
And many a bream, and many a luce in stew.123
Woe was his cook, but if124 his saucë were
Poignant and sharp, and ready all his gear.
His table dormant125 in his hall alway
Stood ready cover’d all the longë day.
At sessions there was he lord and sire.
Full often time he was knight of the shire.
An anlace, and a gipciere126 all of silk,
Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk.
A sheriff had he been, and a countour.127
Was nowhere such a worthy vavasour.128

An Haberdasher, and a Carpenter,
A Webbe,129 a Dyer, and a Tapiser,130
Were with us eke, cloth’d in one livery,
Of a solémn and great fraternity.
Full fresh and new their gear y-picked131 was.
Their knivës were y-chaped132 not with brass,
But all with silver wrought full clean and well,
Their girdles and their pouches every deal.133
Well seemed each of them a fair burgéss,
To sitten in a guild-hall, on the dais.134
Evereach, for the wisdom that he can,135
Was shapely136 for to be an alderman.
For chattels haddë they enough and rent,
And eke their wivës would it well assent:
And ellës certain they had been to blame.
It is full fair to be y-clep’d madáme,
And for to go to vigils all before,
And have a mantle royally y-bore.137

A Cook they haddë with them for the nones,138
To boil the chickens and the marrow bones,
And powder merchant tart and galingale.139
Well could he know a draught of London ale.
He couldë roast, and seethe, and broil, and fry,
Makë mortrewës,140 and well bake a pie.
But great harm was it, as it thoughtë me,
That, on his shin a mormal141 haddë he.
For blanc manger,142 that made he with the best.

A Shipman was there, wonned far by West:143
For ought I wot, be was of Dartëmouth.
He rode upon a rouncy, as he couth,144
All in a gown of falding145 to the knee.
A dagger hanging by a lace had he
About his neck under his arm adown;
The hot summer had made his hue all brown;
And certainly he was a good felláw.
Full many a draught of wine he had y-draw
From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep;
Of nicë consciénce took he no keep.
If that he fought, and had the higher hand,
By water he sent them home to every land.
But of his craft to reckon well his tides,
His streamës and his strandës him besides,
His herberow,146 his moon, and lodemanage,147
There was none such, from Hull unto Carthage.
Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:
With many a tempest had his beard been shake.
He knew well all the havens, as they were,
From Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre,
And every creek in Bretagne and in Spain:
His barge y-cleped was the Magdelain.

With us there was a Doctor of Physic;
In all this worldë was there none him like
To speak of physic, and of surgery:
For he was grounded in astronomy.
He kept his patiént a full great deal
In hourës by his magic natural.
Well could he fortunë148 the áscendent
Of his imáges for his patiént.
He knew the cause of every malady,
Were it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry,
And where engender’d, and of what humoúr.
He was a very perfect practisour
The cause y-know,149 and of his harm the root,
Anon he gave to the sick man his boot.150
Full ready had he his apothecaries,
To send his druggës and his lectuaries,
For each of them made other for to win:
Their friendship was not newë to begin.
Well knew he the old Esculapius,
And Dioscorides, and eke Rufus;
Old Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien;
Serapion, Rasis, and Avicen;
Averrois, Damascene, and Constantin;
Bernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertin.151
Of his diet measúrable was he,
For it was of no superfluity,
But of great nourishing, and digestible.
His study was but little on the Bible.
In sanguine and in perse152 he clad was, all
Lined with taffeta, and with sendall.153
And yet he was but easy of dispence:
He kept that he won in the pestilence.154
For gold in physic is a cordial;
Therefore he loved gold in special.

A good Wife was there of besidë Bath,
But she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath.155
Of cloth-making she haddë such an haunt,156
She passed them of Ypres, and of Gaunt.
In all the parish wifë was there none,
That to the off’ring157 before her should gon,
And if there did, certain so wroth was she,
That she was out of allë charity.
Her coverchiefs158 werë full fine of ground;
I durstë swear, they weighedë ten pound
That on the Sunday were upon her head.
Her hosen weren of fine scarlet red,
Full strait y-tied, and shoes full moist159 and new.
Bold was her face, and fair and red of hue.
She was a worthy woman all her live,
Husbands at the church door had she had five,
Withouten other company in youth;
But thereof needeth not to speak as nouth.160
And thrice had she been at Jerusalem;
She haddë passed many a strangë stream;
At Rome she had been, and at Bologne,161
In Galice at Saint James,162 and at Cologne;
She coudë163 much of wand’ring by the way.
Gat-toothed164 was she, soothly for to say.
Upon an ambler easily she sat,
Y-wimpled well, and on her head an hat
As broad as is a buckler or a targe.
A foot-mantle about her hippës large,
And on her feet a pair of spurrës sharp.
In fellowship well could she laugh and carp.165
Of remedies of love she knew perchance,
For of that art she coud166 the oldë dance.