Geoffrey Chaucer

The Summoner's Prologue and Tale in the Hengwrt Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales

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Geoffrey Chaucer

¶The Prologe of the Somnours tale

This Somnour in his Stiropes / hye he {s}toodVp on this frere / his herte was {s}o woodThat lyk an A{s}pen lief / he quook for Ire¶Lordynges quod he / but o thyng I de{s}ireI yow bi{s}eke / that of youre curtei{s}yeSyn ye had herd / this fal{s}e frere lyeAs suffreth me / I may my tale telleThis frere bo{s}teth / that he knoweth helleAnd god it woot/ that it is litel wonderffreres and feendes / been but lyte a {s}onder

ffor pardee / ye han ofte tyme herd telleHow that a frere / rauy{ss}hed was to helleIn Spirit ones / by avi{s}iounAnd as an Aungel / ladde hym vp and downTo shewen hym / the peynes |þt| ther wereIn al the place / say he nat a frereOf oother folk / he say ynowe in woVn to this Aungel / spak the frere tho¶Now Sire quod he / han freres swich a |gra|ceThat noon of hem / shal come to this place¶Yis quod this Aungel / many a MiliounAnd vn to Sathanas / he ladde hym dounAnd now hath Sathanas / seith he a taylBrodder / than of a Carryk is the saylHold vp thy tayl / thow Sathanas quod heShewe forth thyn ers / and lat the frere seWhere is the ne{s}t of freres / in this placeAnd er |þt| / half a furlong wey of spaceRight {s}o as bees / out swarmen from an hyueOut of the deueles ers / ther gonne dryueTwenty thou{s}and freres / on a routeAnd thurgh out helle / swarmeden abouteAnd comen again / as fa{s}te as they may gonAnd in his ers / they crepten euerychonHe clapte his tayl agayn / and lay ful stilleThis frere / whan he looked hadde his filleVp on the tormentz / of this sory placeHis spirit/ god re{s}tored of his graceVn to his body agayn / and he awook/But nathelees / for fere yet he quook/So was the deueles ers / ay in his myndeThat is his heritage / of verray kyndeGod saue yow alle / saue this cur{s}ed frereMy prologe / wol I ende / in this manere

¶Here endeth the prologe of the Somn|our|s tale

¶Here bygynneth the Somnours tale

Lordynges / ther is in York{s}hire / as I ge{ss}eA Mer{ss}h contree / called holderne{ss}eIn which / ther wente a lymytour abouteTo |pre|che / and eek to begge / it is no douteAnd so bifel / that on a day this frereHadde |pre|ched at a chirche / in his manereAnd specially / abouen e|uer|y thyng/Excyted he the peple / in his |pre|chyng/To trentals / and to yeue for goddes sakeWher with men myghte / holy hou{s}es makeTher as dyuyne seruice / is honouredNat ther / as it is wa{s}ted and deuouredNe ther / it nedeth nat/ to be yeueAs to po{ss}e{ss}ioners / that mowen lyueThanked be god / in wele and habundaunceTrentals seyde he / deli|uer|eth from penaunceHir freendes soules / as wel olde as yongeYe / whan that they / been ha{s}tily y{s}ongeNat for to holde a pree{s}t/ Ioly and gayHe syngeth nat/ but o ma{ss}e in a dayDeliuereth out quod he / anon the soulesfful hard it is / |with| fle{ss}h hook / or |with| oulesTo been y clawed / or to brenne / or bakeNow spede yow ha{s}tily / for cri{s}tes sakeAnd whan this frere / hadde seyd al his ententeWith qui cum patre / forth his wey he wenteWhan folk in chirche / hadde yeue hym / what hem le{s}teHe wente his wey / no lenger wolde he re{s}teWith scryppe and typped staf / y tukked hyeIn euery hous / he gan to poure and pryeAnd beggeth Mele / and che{s}e / or ellis cornHis felawe hadde a staf / typped with hornA peyre of tables / al of yuoryAnd a poyntel / poly{ss}hed feti{s}lyAnd wroot the names / alwey as he {s}toodOf alle folk / that yaf hem any good

A{s}caunces / that he wolde for hem preyeYif vs a bu{ss}hel whete / Malt/ or ReyeA goddes kechyl / or a tryp of chee{s}eOr ellis what yow ly{s}t/ we may nat che{s}eA goddes half peny / or a ma{ss}e penyOr yif vs of youre brawn / if ye haue enyA dagon of youre Blanket/ leeue dameOure su{s}ter deere / lo heere I write your nameBaco|un| / or boef / or swich thyng as ye fyndeA sturdy / harlot/ wente ay hem bihyndeThat was hir ho{s}tes man / and baar a sak/And what men yaf hem / leyde it on his bak/And whan |þt| he was out at dore anonHe planed awey / the names euerichonThat he biforn / hadde writen in his tablesHe {s}erued hem / with nyfles and |with| fables¶Nay ther thow lixt/ thow Somn|our| quod the frere¶Pees quod oure hoo{s}t/ for cri{s}tes moder deereTel forth thy tale / and spare it nat at al¶So thryue I quod this Somn|our| / so I shalSo longe he wente / hous by hous / til heCam til an hous / ther he was wont to beRefre{ss}hed moore / than in an hundred placisSyk lay the goode man / whos the place isBedrede vp on a couche / lowe he layDeus hic/ quod he / o Thomas freend good daySeyde this frere / curtei{s}ly and softeThomas quod he / god yelde yow ful ofteHaue I vp on this bench / faren ful welHeere haue I eten / many a murye melAnd fro the bench / he droof awey the cat/And leyde adoun / his potente and his hat/And eek his scrippe / and sette hym {s}ofte adownHis felawe / was go walked in to townfforth with his knaue / in to that ho{s}telryeWher as he shoop hym / thilke nyght to lye¶O deere mai{s}ter / quod this syke manHow han ye fare / sith that March biganI say yow noght/ this fourtnyght/ or moore¶God woot quod he / laboured I haue ful soore

And specially / for thy sauacio|un|Haue I seyd / many a |pre|cious ori{s}o|un|And for oure othere freendes / god hem ble{ss}eI haue to day / been at youre chirche (at me{ss}e)And seyd a sermon / after my symple witNat al / after the text/ of holy writffor it is hard to yow / as I suppo{s}eAnd ther fore / wol I teche yow al the glo{s}eGlo{s}yng/ is a glorious thyng |cer|teynffor lettre sleeth / so as we clerkes seynTher haue I taught hem / to be charitableAnd spende hir good / ther it is re{s}onableAnd ther I say oure dame / a wher is she¶Yond in the yerd / I trowe |þt| she beSeyde this man / and she wol come anon¶Ey mai{s}ter / wel come be ye / by Seint |Iohan|Seyde this wyf / how fare ye hertely¶The frere ari{s}eth vp / ful curtei{s}lyAnd hir embraceth / in hi{s}e armes narweAnd ki{s}te hir swete / and chirteth as a SparweWith his lippes / dame quod he / right welAs he / that is youre seruant/ euery delThanked be god / that yow yaf soule and lyfYet say I nat this day / so fair a wyfIn al the chirche / god so saue me¶Ye god amende defautes / {s}ir quod sheAlgates / wel come be ye / by my fey¶Graunt |mer|cy dame / this haue I founde alweyBut/ of youre grete goodne{ss}e / by youre leueI wolde pray yow / that ye nat yow greueI wol with Thomas / speke a litel throweThi{s}e Curatz / been ful necligent/ and sloweTo grope tendrely / a con{s}cienceIn shrift/ in |pre|chyng/ is my diligenceAnd studie / in Petres wordes / and in PoulesI walke / and fi{ss}he / cri{s}ten mennes soulesTo yelden |Iesu| cri{s}t/. his |prop|re renteTo sprede his word / is set al myn entente¶Now by youre leeue / o deere {s}ire quod sheChideth hym wel / for Seinte Trinitee

He is as angry / as a Pi{ss}emyreThogh that he haue / al that he kan de{s}ireThogh I hym wrye a nyght/ and make hym warmAnd on hym leye / my leg/ outher myn armHe groneth lyk oure boor / lyth in oure StyOother di{s}port/ right noon of hym haue II may nat ple{s}e hym / in no maner cas¶O Thomas Ie vous dy / Thomas / ThomasThis maketh the feend / this mo{s}te been amendedIre is a thyng/ that hye god defendedAnd ther of / wol I speke / a word / or two¶Now mai{s}ter quod the wyf / er |þt| I goWhat wol ye dyne / I wol go ther aboute¶Now dame quod he / now Ie vous dy {s}anz douteHaue I nat of a Capo|un| / but the lyuereAnd of youre softe breed / nat but a ShyuereAnd after that/ a ro{s}ted pigges heedBut |þt| I nolde / no bee{s}t for me were deedThanne hadde I with yow / homly suffi{s}aunceI am a man / of litel su{s}tenaunceMy spirit/ hath his fo{s}tryng/ in the bibleThe body is ay / so redy and penybleTo wake / that my stomak/ is de{s}troyedI pray yow dame / ye be nat anoyedThogh I {s}o freendly / yow my con{s}eil sheweBy god / i wolde nat telle it/ but a fewe¶Now sire quod she / but o word / er I goMy child is deed / with Inne thi{s}e wykes twoSoone after/ that ye wente / out of this town¶His deeth say I / by reuelaciounSeith this frere / at hom in oure dortourI dar wel seyn / that er |þt| half an hourAfter his deeth / I say hym born to bli{ss}eIn myn avi{s}io|un| / so god me wi{ss}eSo dide oure Sexteyn / and oure ffermererThat han been trewe freres fifty yeerThey may now / god be thanked / of his loneMaken hir Iubillee / and walke alloneAnd vp I roos / and al oure Couent ekeWith many a teere / triklyng on my cheke

With outen noy{s}e / or clateryng of bellesTe deum was oure song/ and no thyng ellesSaue that to cri{s}t / I seyde an ori{s}o|un|Thankynge hym / of his reuelacio|un|ffor sire and dame / tru{s}teth me right welOure ori{s}ons / been wel moore effectuelAnd moore we seen / of cri{s}tes secree thyngesThan burell folk/ al thogh |þt| they were kyngesWe lyue in pouerte / and in ab{s}tinenceAnd burell folk/ in riche{ss}e and di{s}penceOf mete and drynke / and in hir foul delit/We han this worldes lu{s}t/ al in de{s}pitLazar and Diues / lyueden diuer{s}lyAnd di|uer|{s}e gerdo|un| / hadde they ther byWho {s}o wol praye / he moot fa{s}te and be cleneAnd fatte his soule / and make his body leneWe fare as seith thapo{s}tle / clooth and foodeSuffi{s}eth vs / thogh they be nat ful goodeThen clenne{ss}e / and the fa{s}tyng/ of vs freresMaketh / that cri{s}t accepteth oure prayeres¶Lo Moy{s}es / fourty dayes / and fourty nyght/ffa{s}ted / er that the heighe god of myght/Spak with hym / in the mountayne of SynayWith empty wombe / fa{s}tynge many a dayReceyued he the lawe / that was writenWith goddes fynger / and Elye wel ye witenIn Mount Oreb / er he hadde any specheWith hye god / that is oure lyues lecheHe fa{s}ted longe / and was in contemplaunceAaron / that hadde the temple in gouernaunceAnd eek/ that othere pree{s}tes euerichonIn to the temple / whan they sholde gonTo preye for the peple / and do seruy{s}eThey nolden drynken / in no maner wy{s}eNo drynke / which that myghte hem dronke makeBut there in ab{s}tinence / preye and wakeLe{s}t that they deyden / tak hede what I seyeBut they be sobre / that for the peple preyeWar that I seye namoore / for it suffi{s}ethOure lord |Iesu| / as holy writ deuy{s}eth

Yaf vs en{s}ample / of fa{s}tyng / and prayeresTher fore / we mendynantz / we sely freresBeen wedded / to pouerte and continenceTo charitee / humble{ss}e and ab{s}tinenceTo |per|{s}ecucio|un| / for rightwi{s}ne{ss}eTo wepyng/ mi{s}ericorde and clenne{ss}eAnd ther fore may ye se / that oure prayeresI speke of vs / we mendinantz / we freresBe to the hye god / moore acceptableThan youres / with youre fe{s}tes at the tableffro Paradys fir{s}t/ if I shal nat lyeWas man out chaced / for his glotonyeAnd chaa{s}t was man / in Paradys certeyn¶But herkne Thomas / what I shal seynI ne haue no text/ of it/ as I suppo{s}eBut I shal fynde it/ in a maner glo{s}eThat specially / oure swete lord |Iesus|Spak this by freres / whan he seyde thusBle{ss}ed be they / that poure in spirit beenAnd so forth / al the go{s}pel / may ye seenWher it be likker / oure profe{ss}io|un|Or hire / that swymmen in po{ss}e{ss}io|un|ffy on hir pompe / and hir glotonyeAnd for hir lewedne{ss}e / I hem diffyeMe thynketh / they been lyk Iouynyanffat as a whale / and walkyng as a swanAl vynolent/ as Botel in the SpenceHir preyere is / of ful greet re|uer|enceWhan they for soules / seye the p{s}alm of Dauit/Lo buf they seye / cor meum eructauit/Who folweth cri{s}tes go{s}pel / and his fooreBut we that |hum|ble been / and chaa{s}t / and pooreWerkers of goddes word / nat AuditoursTher fore / right as an hauk / vp at a soursVp spryngeth in to theyr / right {s}o prayeresOf charitable / and cha{s}te bi{s}y freresMaken hir sours / to goddes erys twoThomas / Thomas / {s}o mote I ryde or goAnd by that lord / that clepid is Seint yueNere thow oure brother / sholde{s}tow nat thryue

[In o]ure chapitre / praye we day and nyght/To cri{s}t/ that he thee sende / heele and myght/Thy body / for to welden ha{s}tily¶God woot quod he / no thyng ther of feele IAs help me cri{s}t/ as I in fewe yeresHaue spended / vp on di|uer|{s}e manere freresfful many a pound / yet fare I ne|uer|e the betCerteyn / my good haue I almoo{s}t bi{s}et/ffarwel my gold / for it is al ago¶The frere an{s}werde / o Thomas doo{s}tow soWhat nedeth yow / di|uer|{s}e freres secheWhat nedeth hym / that hath a |per|fit lecheTo sechen / othere leches in the townYoure incon{s}tance / is youre confu{s}iounHolde ye thanne me / or ellis oure Couent/To preye for yow / been in{s}ufficient/Thomas / that Iape / nys nat worth a myteYoure maladye / is for we han to lyteA yif that Couent / half a quarter otesA yif that Couent/ {.}xxiiij{.} grotesA yif that frere a peny / and lat hym goNay nay Thomas / it may no thyng be {s}oWhat is a ferthyng worth / parted in twelueLo / ech thyng / that is oned in hym selueIs moore {s}trong/ than whan it is to {s}cateredThomas / of me / thow shalt nat been yflateredThow wolde{s}t han oure labour / al for noght/The hye god / that al this world hath wroght/Seith / that the werkman / worthy is his hireThomas / noght of youre tre{s}or I de{s}ireAs for my self / but that al oure CouentTo praye for yow / is ay {s}o diligent/And for to buylden / cri{s}tes owene chircheThomas / if ye wol lernen for to wircheOf buyldyng vp of chirches / may ye fyndeIf it be good / in Thomas lyf of IndeYe lye heere / ful of Anger and of Ire¶This Cartere / taketh his hors {^}{{vp}} on the croupeWith which / the deuel {s}et youre herte afireAnd chiden heere / the sely Innocent /Youre wyf / that is {s}o meke and pacient/

And ther fore Thomas / trowe me if thee le{s}teNe stryue nat with thy wyf/ as for thy be{s}teAnd bere this word awey / now by thy feithTouchynge swich thyng/ lo what the wi{s}e man seith¶With Inne thyn hous / ne be thow no leo|un|To thy subgitz / do noon o|pp'|{ss}io|un|Ne make thyne aqueyntances / nat for to fleeAnd Thomas / yet eft {s}oones I charge theeBe war from hire / that in thy bo{s}om slepethWar fro the serpent/ that {s}o sleighly crepethVnder the gras / and styngeth subtillyBe war my sone / and herkne pacientlyThat twenty thou{s}and men / han lo{s}t hir lyuesffor stryuyng/ with hir lemmans and hir wyuesNow sith ye han / {s}o holy meke a wyfWhat nedeth yow Thomas / to maken stryf/Ther nys ywis / no serpent {s}o cruelWhan man tret on his tayl / ne half {s}o felAs womman is / whan she hath caught an IreVengeance is thanne / al that they de{s}ireIre is a synne / oon of the grete of seueneAbhomynable / vn to the god of heueneAnd to hym self / it is de{s}truccio|un|This euery lewed viker / or |per|{s}o|un|Kan seye / how Ire engendreth homicideIre is in sooth / executour of prydeI koude of Ire / seye {s}o muche sorweMy tale / sholde la{s}te til to morweAnd ther fore praye I god / bothe day and nyghtAn Irous man / god {s}ende hym litel myght/It is greet harm / and |cer|tes greet piteeTo sette an Irous man in heigh degreeWhilom / ther was an Irous pote{s}tat/As seith Senek/ that durynge his e{s}tat/Vp on a day / our ryden knyghtes twoAnd as ffortune wolde / that it wer {s}oThat oon of hem cam hom / that oother noght/Anon the knyght/ bifore the Iuge is broght/That seyde thus / thow ha{s}t thy felawe slaynffor which / I deme thee to the deeth certayn

[An]d to another knyght/ comanded heGo leed hym to the deeth / I charge theeAnd happed / as they wente by the weyeToward the place / ther he sholde deyeThe knyght cam / which men wenden had be deedThanne thoghten they / it were the be{s}te reedTo lede hem bothe / to the Iuge agaynThey seyden / lord / the knyght ne hath nat slaynHis felawe / heere he stant hool alyue¶Ye shul be deed quod he / so moot I thryueThis is to seyn / bothe oon and two and threAnd to the fir{s}te knyght/ right thus spak / he¶I dampned thee / thou mo{s}t algate be deedAnd thow al{s}o / mo{s}t nedes le{s}e thyn heedffor thow art cau{s}e / why thy felawe deythAnd to the thridde knyght/ right thus he seithThow ha{s}t nat doon /that I comanded theeAnd thus he dide / do sleen hem alle thre¶Irous Camby{s}es / was eek dronkeleweAnd ay delited hym / to been a shreweAnd {s}o bifel / a lord of his meyneeThat louede / vertuous moraliteeSeyde on a day / bitwix hem two right thus¶A lord is lo{s}t/ if/ he be viciusAnd dronkene{ss}e / is eek a foul recordOf any man / and namely in a lordTher is ful many an eighe / and many an ereAwaityng on a lord / he noot nat whereffor goddes loue / drynk moore attemprelyWyn maketh man / to le{s}en wrecchedlyHis mynde / and eek his lymes e|uer|ychon¶The reuers shaltow se / quod he anonAnd preue it/ by thyn owene experienceThat wyn ne dooth to folk/ no swich offenceTher is no wyn / bireueth me my myght/Of hond ne foot/ ne of myne eyen sight/And for de{s}pit/ he drank ful muchel mooreAn hundred part/ than he hadde doon biforeAnd right anon / this Irous cur{s}ed wrecche

.b.

Leet this knyghtes sone .a./ bifore hym fecche

Comandynge hym / he sholde bifore hym {s}tondeAnd sodeynly / he took his bowe in hondeAnd vp the {s}treng/ he pulled to his ereAnd with an arwe / he slow the child right thereNow / wheither haue I / a siker hand or noonQuod he / is al my myght and mynde agoonHath wyn byreued me / myn eye sight¶What sholde I telle / than{s}were of the knyght/His {s}one was slayn / ther is namoore to seyeBeth war ther fore / with lordes how ye pleyeSyngeth Placebo / and I shal if I kanBut if it/ be / vn to a poure manTo a poure man / men sholde his vices telleBut nat to a lord / thogh he sholde go to helle¶Lo Irous Syrus / thilke PercienHow he de{s}troyed / the ryuer of Gy{s}enffor that an hors of his / was dreynt ther InneWhan that he wente / Babiloyne to wynneHe made / that the Ryuer was {s}o smalThat wommen / myghte wade it o|uer| alLo what seyde he / that {s}o wel teche kanNe be no felawe / to an Irous manNe with no wood man / walke by the weyeLe{s}t thee repente / I wol no ferther seye¶Now Thomas leeue brother / lef thyn IreThow shalt me fynde / as Iu{s}t/ as is a SquyreHoold nat the deueles knyf / ay at thyn herteThyn angre dooth thee / al to {s}oore smerteBut shewe to me / al thy confe{ss}io|un|¶Nay quod the sike man /by Seint Symo|un|I haue be shryuen this day / at my Curat/I haue hym toold / hoolly al myn e{s}tat/Nedeth namoore to speke of it seith heBut if my li{s}t/ of myn humylitee¶Yif me thanne of thy gold / to make oure cloy{s}treQuod he / for many a Mu{s}cle / and many an Oy{s}treWhan othere men / han been ful wel atey{s}eHath been oure foode / oure Cloy{s}tre for to rey{s}eAnd yet god woot/ vnnethe the fundement /Parfourned is / ne of oure pauement/

[N]ys nat a tyle / yet/ with Inne oure wonesBy god / we owen fourty pound for stonesNow help Thomas / for hym |þt| harwed helleOr ellis mote we / oure bookes selleAnd if yow lakke / oure predicacio|un|Thanne gooth the world / al to de{s}truccio|un|ffor who so / fro this world / wolde vs bireueSo god me saue / Thomas by youre leueHe wolde bireue / out of the world the sonneffor who kan teche / and werchen as we konneAnd that is nat/ of litel tyme quod heBut sith Elie was / or ElizeHan freres been / that fynde I of recordIn charitee / thonked be oure lordNow Thomas / help for Seinte chariteeAnd down anon / he {s}et hym on his knee¶This sike man / weex wel neigh wood for IreHe wolde / that the frere / hadde been afireWith his fal{s}e di{ss}imulacio|un|Swich thyng / as is in my po{ss}e{ss}i|oun|Quod he/{?.} that may I yeue and noon ootherYe sey me thus / how that I am youre brother¶Ye certes quod the frere / tru{s}teth welI took oure dame / oure lettre with oure sel¶Now wel quod he / and {s}om what/ shal I yeueVn to youre holy Couent/ whil I lyueAnd in thyn hand / thow shalt it han anonOn this condicio|un| / and oother noonThat thow departe it {s}o / my deere brotherThat euery frere / haue as muche as ootherThis shaltow swere / on thy |pro|fe{ss}io|un|With outen fraude / or cauelacio|un|¶I swere it quod this frere / vp on my feithAnd ther with al / his hand in his he leithLo here my feith / in me / shal be no lak¶Now thanne put thyn hand / down by my bak/Seyde this man / and grope wel bihyndeBynethe by buttok/ there shaltow fyndeA thyng/ that I haue hyd in pryuetee¶A thoghte this frere / that shal go with me

And down his hand / he launcheth to the clifteIn hope / for to fynde there a yifteAnd whan this sike man / felte this frereAboute his tuwel / grope there and heereAmydde his hand / he leet the frere a fart/Ther is no capul / drawyng in a Cart/That myghte han late a fart/ of swich a sown¶The frere vp stirte / as dooth a wood leounA fal{s}e cherl quod he / for goddes bonesThis ha{s}tow for de{s}pit/ doon for the nonesThow shalt abye this fart/ if |þt| I mayHis meynee / which that herden this affrayCam lepyng In / and chaced out the frereAnd forth he gooth / with a ful angry cheereAnd fette his felawe / ther as lay his stoorHe looked / as he were a wilde boorHe grynt with his teeth / so was he wroothA sturdy paas / doun to the court he goothWher as ther woned / a man of greet honourTo whom / that he was alwey confe{ss}ourThis worthy man / was lord of that villageThis frere cam / as he were in a rageWhere as this lord / {s}at etyng/ at his boordVnnethe / myghte the frere speke a woordTil atte la{s}te / he seyde / god yow see¶This lord gan looke / and seyde benediciteeWhat frere |Iohan| / what manere world is thisI se wel / that {s}om thyng/ ther is amysYe looken / as the wode were ful of theuysSit doun anon / and tel me what youre grief isAnd it shal been amended / if I may¶I haue quod he / had a de{s}pit to dayGod yelde yow / adown in youre villageThat in this world / ther nys {s}o poure a pageThat he nolde haue / abhomynaciounOf that/ I haue receyued in youre tounAnd yet/ ne greueth me / no thyng {s}o {s}ooreAs that this olde cherl / with lokkes hooreBla{s}phemed hath / oure hooly Couent eke¶Now mai{s}ter quod this lord / I yow bi{s}eke

¶No mai{s}ter sire quod he / but seruytourThogh I haue had in scole / that honourGod liketh nat/ that Raby men vs calleNeither in Market/ nyn youre large halle¶No force quod he / but tel me al youre grief¶Sire quod this frere / an odious me{s}chiefThis day bityd is / to myn ordre and meAnd so |per| con{s}equens / to ech degreeOf holy chirche / god amende it {s}oone¶Sire quod the lord / ye woot what is to dooneDi{s}tempre yow noght/ ye be my confe{ss}ourYe been the salt of therthe / and the sauourffor goddes loue / youre pacience ye holdeTel me youre grief / and he anon hym toldeAs ye han herd biforn / ye woot wel whatThe lady of the hous / ay stille sat/Til she hadde herd / what the frere sayde¶Ey goddes moder quod she / bli{s}ful maydeIs ther aught ellis / tel me feithfully¶Madame quod he / how thynketh yow ther by¶How |þt| me thynketh quod she / so god me spedeI seye / a cherl / hath doon a cherles dedeWhat sholde I seye / god lat hym ne|uer|e theeHis sike heed / is ful of vanyteeI holde hym / in a manere frene{s}ye¶Madame quod he / by god I shal nat lyeBut I / on oother wi{s}e / may be wrekeI shal diffame hym / ouer al wher I spekeThe fal{s}e bla{s}phemour / that charged meTo parte / that wol nat departed beTo euery man yliche / with me{s}chaunce¶The lord sat stille / as he were in a traunceAnd in his herte / he rolled vp and downHow hadde this cherl / ymaginaciounTo shewe swich a probleme / to the frereNe|uer|e er{s}t er now / herde I swich matereI trowe the deuel / putte it in his myndeIn Ar{s}metrik/ shal ther no man fyndeBifore this day / of swich a que{s}ti|oun|Who sholde / make a demon{s}tracio|un|

That euery man sholde han / ylike his part /As of a {s}oun / or {s}auour / of a fart/O nyce prowde cherl / I shrewe his face¶Lo sires quod the lord / with harde graceWho euere herde / of swich a thyng/ er nowTo euery man ylike / tel me howIt is an inpo{ss}ible / it may nat beEy nyce cherl / god lat hym ne|uer|e theeThe rumblyng of a fart/ and euery {s}ounNys but of Eyr / reuerberaciounAnd ther it wa{s}teth / lite and lite aweyTher nys no man / kan deme by my feyIf that it were / departed equallyWhat lo my cherl / lo yet how shrewedlyVn to my confe{ss}our / to day he spak /I holde hym certeynly / demonyak/Now ete youre mete / and lat the cherl go pleyeLat hym go hange hym self/ a deuel weye¶Now stood / the lordes Squyer at the boordThat carf his mete / and herde word by woordOf alle thyng/ of which I haue yow sayd¶My lord quod he / be ye nat yuele apaydI koude telle / for a gowne cloothTo yow sire frere / so ye be nat wroothHow that this fart/ sholde euene ydeled beAmong youre Couent/ if it liked me¶Tel quod the lord / and thow shalt haue anonA gowne clooth / by god and by Seint |Iohan|¶My lord quod he / whan that the weder is fairWith outen wynd / or |per|turbynge of AirLat brynge a Cartwheel / heere in to this halleBut looke that it haue / his spokes alleTwelf spokes / hath a Cartwheel comunlyAnd brynge me thanne twelf freres / woot ye whyffor thrittene / is a Couent/ as I ge{ss}eYoure confe{ss}our heere / for his worthyne{ss}eShal |per|fourne vp / the nombre of this Couent/Thanne shal they knele adown / by oon a{ss}ent/And to euery spokes ende / in this manerefful {s}adly / leye his no{s}e / shal a frere

[Y]oure noble Confe{ss}our / ther god hym saueShal holde his no{s}e / vp right vnder the NaueThanne shal this cherl / with baly / stif and toght/As any tabour / hider been ybroght/And sette hym on the wheel / right of this Cart/Vp on the Naue / and make hym lete a fart/And ye shal {s}een / on |per|il of my lyfBy proue / which that is demon{s}tratyfThat equally / the {s}oun of it wol wendeAnd eek the stynk / vn to the spokes endeSaue / that this worthy man / youre Confe{ss}ourBy cau{s}e / he is a man of greet honourShal han the fir{s}te fruyt/ as re{s}on isThe noble v{s}age of freres / yet is thisThe worthy men of hem / shul fir{s}t be {s}eruedAnd certeynly / he hath it wel di{ss}eruedHe hath to day / taught/ vs {s}o muchel goodWith |pre|chyng/ in the pulput/ ther he {s}toodThat I may vouche sauf / I seye for meHe hadde the fir{s}te smel / of fartes threAnd so wolde / al his Couent hardilyHe bereth hym / {s}o faire and holily¶The lord / the lady / ech man / {s}aue the frereSeyden / that Iankyn / spak in this matereAs wel / as Euclyde / or ProtholomeeTouchynge the cherl / they seyde subtilteeAnd hy wit/ made hym speke / as he spakHe nys no fool / ne no demonyak/And Iankyn hath ywonne / a newe gowneMy tale is doon / we been almoo{s}t at towne

¶Here endeth the Somnours tale