His top was docked like a priest beforn.
Full longë were his leggës, and full lean,
Y-like a staff, there was no calf y-seen.
Well could he keep a garner and a bin:203
There was no auditor204 could on him win.
Well wist he by the drought, and by the rain,
The yielding of his seed and of his grain.
His lordë’s sheep, his neat,205 and his dairy.
His swine, his horse, his store, and his poultrý,
Were wholly in this Reevë’s governing,
And by his cov’nant gave he reckoning,
Since that his lord was twenty year of age;
There could no man bring him in arrearáge.
There was no bailiff, herd, nor other hine,206
That he ne knew his sleight and his covine:207
They were adrad208 of him, as of the death.
His wonning209 was full fair upon an heath,
With greenë trees y-shadow’d was his place.
He couldë better than his lord purchase.
Full rich he was y-stored privily.
His lord well could he pleasë subtilly,
To give and lend him of his owen good,
And have a thank, and yet210 a coat and hood.
In youth he learned had a good mistére.211
He was a well good wright, a carpentére
This Reevë sate upon a right good stot,212
That was all pomely213 gray, and hightë214 Scot.
A long surcoat of perse215 upon he had,
And by his side he bare a rusty blade.
Of Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell,
Beside a town men clepen Baldeswell.
Tucked he was, as is a friar, about,
And ever rode the hinderest of the rout.216
A Sompnour217 was there with us in that place,
That had a fire-red cherubinnës face,
For sausëfleme218 he was, with eyen narrow.
As hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow,
With scalled browës black, and pilled219 beard:
Of his viságe children were sore afeard.
There n’as quicksilver, litharge, nor brimstone,
Boras, ceruse, nor oil of tartar none,
Nor ointëment that wouldë cleanse or bite,
That him might helpen of his whelkës220 white,
Nor of the knobbës221 sitting on his cheeks.
Well lov’d he garlic, onións, and leeks,
And for to drink strong wine as red as blood.
Then would he speak, and cry as he were wood;
And when that he well drunken had the wine,
Then would he speakë no word but Latin.
A fewë termës knew he, two or three,
That he had learned out of some decree;
No wonder is, he heard it all the day.
And eke ye knowen well, how that a jay
Can clepen222 “Wat,” as well as can the Pope.
But whoso would in other thing him grope,223
Then had he spent all his philosophy,
Aye, Questio quid juris,224 would he cry.
He was a gentle harlot225 and a kind;
A better fellów should a man not find.
He wouldë suffer, for a quart of wine,
A good fellow to have his concubine
A twelvemonth, and excuse him at the full.
Full privily a finch eke could he pull.226
And if he found owhere227 a good felláw,
He wouldë teachë him to have none awe
In such a case of the archdeacon’s curse;
But if228 a mannë’s soul were in his purse;
For in his purse he should y-punished be.
“Purse is the archëdeacon’s hell,” said he.
But well I wot, he lied right indeed:
Of cursing ought each guilty man to dread,
For curse will slay right as assoiling229 saveth;
And also ’ware him of a significavit.230
In danger had he at his owen guise231
The youngë girlës of the diocese,
And knew their counsel, and was of their rede.232
A garland had he set upon his head,
As great as it were for an alëstake:233
A buckler had he made him of a cake.
With him there rode a gentle Pardonere234
Of Ronceval, his friend and his compere,
That straight was comen from the court of Romë.
Full loud he sang, “Come hither, lovë, tó me.”
This Sompnour bare to him a stiff burdoun,235
Was never trump of half so great a soun’.
This Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,
But smooth it hung, as doth a strike236 of flax:
By ounces hung his lockës that he had,
And therewith he his shoulders oversprad.
Full thin it lay, by culpons237 one and one,
But hood for jollity, he weared none,
For it was trussed up in his wallét.
Him thought he rode all of the newë get,238
Dishevel, save his cap, he rode all bare.
Such glaring eyen had he, as an hare.
A vernicle239 had he sew’d upon his cap.
His wallët lay before him in his lap,
Bretful240 of pardon come from Rome all hot.
A voice he had as small as hath a goat.
No beard had he, nor ever one should have.
As smooth it was as it were new y-shave;
I trow he were a gelding or a mare.
But of his craft, from Berwick unto Ware,
Ne was there such another pardonere.
For in his mail241 he had a pillowbere,242
Which, as he saidë, was our Lady’s veil:
He said, he had a gobbet243 of the sail
That Saintë Peter had, when that he went
Upon the sea, till Jesus Christ him hent.244
He had a cross of latoun245 full of stones,
And in a glass he haddë piggë’s bones.
But with these relics, whennë that he fond
A poorë parson dwelling upon lond,
Upon a day he got him more money
Than that the parson got in moneths tway;
And thus with feigned flattering and japes,246
He made the parson and the people his apes.
But truëly to tellen at the last,
He was in church a noble ecclesiast.
Well could he read a lesson or a story,
But alderbest247 he sang an offertóry:248
For well he wistë, when that song was sung,
He mustë
