The Clerk’s Tale.
This Sompnour in his styrop up he stood,
Upon the Frere his herte was so woodmad
That lyk an aspen leef he quok for ire.quaked
Lordyngs, quod he, but oon thing I desire;
I yow biseke that of your curtesye,
Syn ye han herd this false Frere lye,
As suffrith me, I may my tale telle.pray suffer
This Frere bosteth that he knowith helle,
And God it wot, that is but litel wonder,[134]
Freres and feendes been but litel asonder.[135]
Sir Clerk of Oxenford, our hoste sayde,Oxford
Ye ryde as stille and coy as doth a mayde[136]
Were newe spoused, syttyng at the bord;[137]
This day ne herde I of your mouth a word.
I trow ye study aboute som sophyme.sophism
But Salomon saith, everythyng hath tyme.
For Goddis sake as beth of better cheere,be
It is no tyme for to stodye hiere.study
Up in his stirrups did the Summoner start,
For with this Friar such rage was in his heart,
That like an aspen-leaf he shook for ire.
“Lordings,” cried he, “but one thing I desire,
And I beseech you of your courtesy,
Since you have heard this falsest Friar lie,
Suffer me, pray, my story now to tell.
This Friar boasts of how he knoweth hell;
Heav’n knows, that if he does it is no wonder,
For fiends and Friars are not far asunder.”
“Sir Clerk of Oxford,” then our landlord said
“You ride as shy and quiet as a maid
Newly espous’d, who sits beside the board;
All day we have not had from you a word.
I guess, some subtle lore you’re studying.
But Solomon says there’s time for everything.
Prithee, rouse up, and be of better cheer,
It is no time for your deep studies here.
“Do not give us a sermon, or something so learned that we cannot understand it.
Spekith so playn at this tyme, we yow praye,
That we may understonde that ye saye.
“Speak to us very plainly, now, we pray,
That we may understand the whole you say.”
This worthy Clerk answered pleasantly, “Host, I am under your orders, so I will obey you, and tell you a tale which I learned at Padua, of a worthy clerk, who has been proved by his words and work.
He is now deed and nayled in his chest,coffin
Now God yive his soule wel good rest!give
Fraunces Petrark,[138] the laureat poete,
Highte this clerk, whos rethorique swetewas named
Enlumynd al Ytail of poetrie,Italy
As Linian[139] did of philosophie,
Or lawue, or other art particulere;law
But deth, that wol not suffre us duellen here,
But as it were a twyncling of an ye,eye
Hem bothe hath slayn, and alle schul we dye.
“Now he is dead, and nailéd in his chest,
I pray to God to give his spirit rest!
Francis Petrarch, the poet laureate,
This clerk was call’d, whose rhetoric sweet did late
Illume all Italy with poetry,
As Linian did with his philosophy,
And law, and other noble arts as well;
But death, that will not suffer us here to dwell,
But, as it were, a twinkling of an eye,
Hath slain them both, and we, too, all shall die.”
Part I.
To the west of Italy there is a territory called Saluces,[140] which once belonged to a marquis very much beloved by all his people. They all obeyed and respected him, both lords and commoners, and he was very happy.
Besides, he was the noblest born of any one in Lombardy—handsome, and strong, and young—courteous to all, and discreet enough, except in some things where he was not quite perfect! and his name was Walter.
The worst fault of him was the careless sort of life he led. He did nothing but hunt, and hawk, and amuse himself, instead of attending to more serious duties. This made his people very sorry, and they thought if Walter had a wife he would get more steady, and not waste his time so sadly.