I trow2402 the Devil put it in his mind.
In all arsmetrik2403 shall there no man find,
Before this day, of such a questión.
Who shouldë make a demonstratión,
That every man should have alike his part
As of the sound and savour of a fart?
O nice2404 proudë churl, I shrew2405 his face.
Lo, Sirës,” quoth the lord, “with hardë grace,2406
Who ever heard of such a thing ere now?
To every man alikë? tell me how.
It is impossible, it may not be.
Hey nicë2407 churl, God let him never thé.2408
The rumbling of a fart, and every soun’,
Is but of air reverberatioún,
And ever wasteth lite and lite2409 away;
There is no man can deemen,2410 by my fay,
If that it were departed2411 equally.
What? lo, my churl, lo yet how shrewedly2412
Unto my confessoúr to-day he spake;
I hold him certain a demoniac.
Now eat your meat, and let the churl go play,
Let him go hang himself a devil way!”
Now stood the lordë’s squiër at the board,
That carv’d his meat, and heardë word by word
Of all this thing, which that I have you said.
“My lord,” quoth he, “be ye not evil paid,2413
I couldë tellë, for a gownë-cloth,2414
To you, Sir Friar, so that ye be not wroth,
How that this fart should even2415 dealed be
Among your convent, if it liked thee.”
“Tell,” quoth the lord, “and thou shalt have anon
A gownë-cloth, by God and by Saint John.”
“My lord,” quoth he, “when that the weather is fair,
Withoutë wind, or perturbíng of air,
Let2416 bring a cart-wheel here into this hall,
But lookë that it have its spokës all;
Twelve spokës hath a cart-wheel commonly;
And bring me then twelve friars, know ye why?
For thirteen is a convent as I guess;2417
Your confessór here, for his worthiness,
Shall perform up2418 the number of his convént.
Then shall they kneel adown by one assent,
And to each spokë’s end, in this mannére,
Full sadly2419 lay his nosë shall a frere;
Your noble confessór there, God him save,
Shall hold his nose upright under the nave.
Then shall this churl, with belly stiff and tought2420
As any tabour,2421 hither be y-brought;
And set him on the wheel right of this cart
Upon the nave, and make him let a fart,
And ye shall see, on peril of my life,
By very proof that is demonstrative,
That equally the sound of it will wend,2422
And eke the stink, unto the spokës’ end,
Save that this worthy man, your confessoúr
(Because he is a man of great honoúr),
Shall have the firstë fruit, as reason is;
The noble uságe of friars yet it is,
The worthy men of them shall first be served,
And certainly he hath it well deserved;
He hath to-day taught us so muchë good
With preaching in the pulpit where he stood,
That I may vouchësafe, I say for me,
He had the firstë smell of fartës three;
And so would all his brethren hardily;
He beareth him so fair and holily.”
The lord, the lady, and each man, save the frere,
Saidë, that Jankin spake in this mattére
As well as Euclid, or as Ptolemy.
Touching the churl, they said that subtilty
And high wit made him speaken as he spake;
He is no fool, nor no demoniac.
And Jankin hath y-won a newë gown;
My tale is done, we are almost at town.
The Clerk’s Tale
The Prologue
“Sir Clerk of Oxenford,” our Hostë said,
“Ye ride as still and coy, as doth a maid
That were new spoused, sitting at the board:
This day I heard not of your tongue a word.
I trow ye study about some sophime:2423
But Solomon saith, every thing hath time.
For Goddë’s sake, be of better cheer,2424
It is no timë for to study here.
Tell us some merry talë, by your fay;2425
For what man that is entered in a play,
He needës must unto that play assent.
But preachë not, as friars do in Lent,
To make us for our oldë sinnës weep,
Nor that thy talë make us not to sleep.
Tell us some merry thing of áventures.
Your terms, your colourës, and your figúres,
Keep them in store, till so be ye indite
High style, as when that men to kingës write.
Speakë so plain at this time, I you pray,
That we may understandë what ye say.”
This worthy Clerk benignëly answér’d;
“Hostë,” quoth he, “I am under your yerd,2426
Ye have of us as now the governánce,
And therefore would I do you obeisánce,
As far as reason asketh, hardily:2427
I will you tell a talë, which that I
Learn’d at Padova of a worthy clerk,
As proved by his wordës and his werk.
He is now dead, and nailed in his chest,
I pray to God to give his soul good rest.
Francis Petrarc’, the laureate poét,2428
Hightë2429 this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet
Illumin’d all Itále of poetry,
As Linian2430 did of philosophy,
Or law, or other art particulére:
But death, that will not suffer us dwell here
But as it were a twinkling of an eye,
Them both hath slain, and allë we shall die.
“But forth to tellen of this worthy man,
That taughtë me this tale, as I began,
I say that first he with high style inditeth
(Ere he the body of his talë writeth)
A proem, in the which describeth he
Piedmont, and of Saluces2431 the countrý,
And speaketh of the Pennine hillës high,
That be the bounds of all West Lombardy:
And of Mount Vesulus in special,
Where as the Po out of a wellë small
Taketh his firstë springing and his source,
That eastward aye increaseth in his course
T’ Emilia-ward,2432 to Ferraro, and Veníce,
The which a long thing werë to devise.2433
And truëly, as to my judgëment,
Me thinketh it a thing impertinent,2434
Save that he would conveyë his mattére:
But this is the tale, which that ye shall hear.”
The Tale2435
Pars Prima
There is,
