This Sompnour clapped at the widow’s gate:
“Come out,” he said, “thou oldë very trate;2232
I trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee.”
“Who clappeth?” said this wife; “ben’dicite,
God save you, Sir, what is your sweetë will?”
“I have,” quoth he, “of summons here a bill.
Up2233 pain of cursing, lookë 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 wis1y2234 helpë me, as I not may.2235
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 pricketh2236 it my side.
May I not ask a libel, Sir Sompnoúr,
And answer there by my procúratoúr
To such thing as men would apposë2237 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:2238
My master hath the profit and not I.
Come off, and let me ridë hastily;
Give me twelvepence, I may no longer tarry.”
“Twelvepence!” quoth she; “now lady Saintë Mary
So wisly2239 help me out of care and sin,
This widë world though that I should it win,
Ne have I not twelvepence within my hold.
Ye know full well that I am poor and old;
Kithë your almës2240 upon me poor wretch.”
“Nay then,” quoth he, “the foulë fiend me fetch,
If I excuse thee, though thou should’st be spilt.”2241
“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 newë pan
For debtë, which thou owest me of old—
When that thou madest thine husbánd cuckóld—
I paid at home for thy correctión.”
“Thou liest,” quoth she, “by my salvatión;
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 cursë so
Upon her knees, he said in this mannére;
“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,2242
And pan and all, but2243 he will him repent.”
“Nay, oldë stoat,2244 that is not mine intent,”
Quoth this Sompnour, “for to repentë 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 hellë yet tonight,
Where thou shalt knowen of our privity2245
More than a master of divinity.”
And with that word the foulë fiend him hent.2246
Body and soul, he with the devil went,
Where as the Sompnours have their heritage;
And God, that maked after his imáge
Mankindë, 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 painës, that your heartës might agrise,2247
Albeit so, that no tongue may devise—2248
Though that I might a thousand winters tell—
The pains of thilkë2249 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 await2250 alway
To slay the innocent, if that he may.
Disposen aye your heartës to withstond
The fiend that would you makë thrall and bond;
He may not temptë 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.2251
The Sompnour’s Tale
The Prologue
The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood,
Upon this Friar his heartë was so wood,2252
That like an aspen leaf he quoke2253 for ire:
“Lordings,” quoth he, “but one thing I desire;
I you beseech, that of your courtesy,
Since ye have heard this falsë Friar lie,
As suffer me I may my talë tell.
This Friar boasteth that he knoweth hell,
And, God it wot, that is but little wonder,
Friars and fiends be but little asunder.
For, pardie, ye have often time heard tell,
How that a friar ravish’d was to hell
In spirit onës by a visioún,
And, as an angel led him up and down,
To shew him all the painës that there were,
In all the place saw he not a frere;
Of other folk he saw enough in woe.
Unto the angel spake the friar tho;2254
‘Now, Sir,’ quoth he, ‘have friars such a grace,
That none of them shall come into this place?’
‘Yes’ quoth the angel; ‘many a millioún:’
And unto Satanas he led him down.
‘And now hath Satanas,’ said he, ‘a tail
Broader than of a carrack2255 is the sail.
Hold up thy tail, thou Satanas,’ quoth he,
‘Shew forth thine erse, and let the friar see
Where is the nest of friars in this place.’
And less than half a furlong way of space,2256
Right so as bees swarmen out of a hive,
Out of the devil’s erse there gan to drive
A twenty thousand friars on a rout.2257
And throughout hell they swarmed all about,
And came again, as fast as they may gon,
And in his erse they creeped every one:
He clapt his tail again, and lay full still.
This friar, when he looked had his fill
Upon the torments of that sorry place,
His spirit God restored of his grace
Into his body again, and he awoke;
But natheless for fearë yet he quoke,
So was the devil’s erse aye in his mind;
That is his heritage, of very kind.2258
God save you allë, save this cursed Frere;
My prologue will I end in this
