He stareth and woodeth4575 in his adverténce.”4576
To whom Almachius said, “Unsely4577 wretch,
Knowest thou not how far my might may stretch?
“Have not our mighty princes to me given
Yea bothë power and eke authority
To makë folk to dien or to liven?
Why speakest thou so proudly then to me?”
“I speakë not but steadfastly,” quoth she,
Not proudly, for I say, as for my side,
We hatë deadly4578 thilkë vice of pride.
“And, if thou dreadë not a sooth4579 to hear,
Then will I shew all openly by right,
That thou hast made a full great leasing4580 here.
Thou say’st thy princes have thee given might
Both for to slay and for to quick4581 a wight—
Thou that may’st not but only life bereave;
Thou hast none other power nor no leave.
“But thou may’st say, thy princes have thee maked
Minister of death; for if thou speak of mo’,
Thou liest; for thy power is full naked.”
“Do away4582 thy boldness,” said Almachius tho,4583
“And sacrifice to our gods, ere thou go.
I reckë not what wrong that thou me proffer,
For I can suffer it as a philosópher.
“But thosë wrongës may I not endure,
That thou speak’st of our goddës here,” quoth he.
Cecile answér’d, “O nicë4584 creatúre,
Thou saidest no word, since thou spake to me,
That I knew not therewith thy nicety,4585
And that thou wert in every manner wise4586
A lewëd4587 officer, a vain justíce.
“There lacketh nothing to thine outward eyen
That thou art blind; for thing that we see all
That it is stone, that men may well espyen,
That ilkë4588 stone a god thou wilt it call.
I rede4589 thee let thine hand upon it fall,
And taste4590 it well, and stone thou shalt it find;
Since that thou see’st not with thine eyen blind.
“It is a shamë that the people shall
So scornë thee, and laugh at thy follý;
For commonly men wot it well over all,4591
That mighty God is in his heaven high;
And these imáges, well may’st thou espy,
To thee nor to themselves may not profíte,
For in effect they be not worth a mite.”
These wordës and such others saidë she,
And he wax’d wroth, and bade men should her lead
Home to her house; “And in her house,” quoth he,
“Burn her right in a bath, with flamës red.”
And as he bade, right so was done the deed;
For in a bath they gan her fastë shetten,4592
And night and day great fire they under betten.4593
The longë night, and eke a day also,
For all the fire, and eke the bathë’s heat,
She sat all cold, and felt of it no woe,
It made her not one droppë for to sweat;
But in that bath her lifë she must lete.4594
For he, Almachius, with full wick’ intent,
To slay her in the bath his sondë4595 sent.
Three strokës in the neck he smote her tho,4596
The tórmentor,4597 but for no manner chance
He might not smite her fairë neck in two:
And, for there was that time an ordinance
That no man shouldë do man such penánce,4598
The fourthë stroke to smitë, soft or sore,
This tórmentor he durstë do no more;
But half dead, with her neckë carven4599 there
He let her lie, and on his way is went.
The Christian folk, which that about her were,
With sheetës have the blood full fair y-hent;4600
Three dayës lived she in this tormént,
And never ceased them the faith to teach,
That she had foster’d them, she gan to preach.
And them she gave her mebles4601 and her thing,
And to the Pope Urban betook4602 them tho;4603
And said, “I askë this of heaven’s king,
To have respite three dayës and no mo’,
To recommend to you, ere that I go,
These soulës, lo; and that I might do wirch4604
Here of mine house perpetually a church.”
Saint Urban, with his deacons, privily
The body fetch’d, and buried it by night
Among his other saintës honestly;4605
Her house the church of Saint Cecilie hight;4606
Saint Urban hallow’d it, as he well might;
In which unto this day, in noble wise,
Men do to Christ and to his saint servíce.
The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale4607
The Prologue
When ended was the life of Saint Cecile,
Ere we had ridden fully fivë mile,4608
At Boughton-under-Blee us gan o’ertake
A man, that clothed was in clothës black,
And underneath he wore a white surplíce.
His hackenay,4609 which was all pomely-gris,4610
So sweated, that it wonder was to see;
It seem’d as he had pricked4611 milës three.
The horse eke that his yeoman rode upon
So sweated, that unnethës4612 might he gon.
About the peytrel4613 stood the foam full high;
He was of foam, as flecked4614 as a pie.
A mailë twyfold4615 on his crupper lay;
It seemed that he carried little array;
All light for summer rode this worthy man.
And in my heart to wonder I began
What that he was, till that I understood
How that his cloak was sewed to his hood;
For which, when I had long advised4616 me,
I deemed him some Canon for to be.
His hat hung at his back down by a lace,4617
For he had ridden more than trot or pace;
He haddë pricked like as he were wood.4618
A clote-leaf4619 he had laid under his hood,
For sweat, and for to keep his head from heat.
But it was joyë for to see him sweat;
His forehead dropped as a stillatory4620
Were full of plantain or of paritory.4621
And when that he was come, he gan to cry,
“God save,” quoth he, “this jolly company.
Fast have I pricked,” quoth he, “for your sake,
Becausë that I
