And ete, and flept, and dide what him lift,
Til Sonday that the fonne gothe to reft.

This fely carpenter hath gret mervaile
Of Nicholas, or what thing might him aile,
And faid, I am adrad by Seint Thomas
It ftondeth not aright with Nicholas;
God fhilde that he died fodenly;
This world is now ful tikel fikerly:
I faw to-day a corps yborne to cherche
That now on Monday laft I faw him werche.
Go up (quod he unto his knave) anon,
Clepe at his dore, or knocke with a ston;
Loke how it is, and telle me boldely.

This knave got him up ful fturdely, And at the chambre dore while that he stood He cried and knocked as that he were wood; What? how? what do ye, Maister Nicholay? How may ye flepen all the longe day? But all for nought, he herde not a word. An hole he fond ful low upon the bord, T'her as the cat was wont in for to crepe, And at that hole he loked in ful depe, And at the last he had of him a fight.

This Nicholas fat ever gaping upright,
As he had kyked on the newe mone.
Adoun he goth, and telleth his maister sone
In what array he faw this ilke man.

This carpenter to bliffen him began,
And faid, Now helpe us Seinte Fridefwide!
A man wote litel what fhal him betide.
This man is fallen with his aftronomie
In fom woodneffe or in fom agonie.
I thought ay wel how that it fhulde be;
Men fhulde not knowe of Goddes privetee
Ya, bleffed be alway a lewed man,
That nought but only his beleve can.
So ferd another clerk with aftronomie;
He walked in the feldes for to prie
Upon the fterres, what ther fhuld befalle,
Til he was in a marlepit yfalle.

He saw not that. But yet by Seint Thomas
Me reweth fore of Hendy Nicholas :
He fhal be rated of his ftudying,
If that I may, by Jefus, heven king.

Get me a staff, that I may underspore
While that thou, Robin, heveft of the dore:
He fhal out of his ftudying as I geffe.
And to the chambre dore he gan him dresse.
His knave was a ftrong carl for the nones,
And by the hafpe he haf it of at ones:
Into the flore the dore fell anon.

This Nicholas fat ay as ftille as fton,
And ever he gaped upward into the eire.

This carpenter wond he were in defpeire,
And hent him by the fhulders mightily,
And shoke him hard, and cried fpitoufly;
What, Nicholas? what, how man? loke adoun
Awake, and thinke on Criftes paffioun.

I crouche thee from elves and from wightes.
Therwith the nightspel said he anon rightes
On foure halves of the hous aboute

And on the threfwold of the dore withoute:
Jefu Crift and Seint Benedight

Bliffe this hous from every wicked wight,

Fro the nightes mare, the wite Pater-nofter!

Wher woneft thou Seint Peters fufter?

And at the last this Hendy Nicholas Gan for to fiken fore, and faid, alas! Shal all the world be loft eftsones now?

This carpenter answered, What faiest thou? What? thinke on God, as we do, men that fwinke. This Nicholas answered, Fetch me a drinke; And after wol I fpeke in privetee

Of certain thing that toucheth thee and me:
I wol tell it non other man certain.

This carpenter goth doun and cometh again,
And brought of mighty ale a large quart;
And whan that eche of hem had dronken his part,
This Nicholas his dore fafte fhette,

And doun the carpenter by him he sette,
And faide, John, min hofte lefe and dere,
Thou shalt upon thy trouthe fwere me here
That to no wight thou shalt my counfeil wrey,
For it is Criftes counfeil that I fay,

And if thou tell it man thou art forlore;
For this vengeance thou shalt have therfore,
That if thou wreye me thou shalt be wood.

Nay, Crift forbede it for his holy blood,
Quod tho this fely man: I am no labbe,
Ne though I fay it I n'am not lefe to gabbe.
Say what thou wolt, I fhall it never telle
To child ne wif, by him that harwed helle.
Now, John, (quod Nicholas) I wol not lie,
I have yfounde in min aftrologie,
As I have loked in the moone bright,
That now on Monday next, at quarter night,
Shal fal a rain, and that fo wild and wood,
That half fo gret wos never Noes flood:
This world (he said) in lesse than in an houre
Shal all be dreint, fo hidous is the fhoure:
Thus fhal mankinde drenche and lefe hir lif.

This carpenter anfwerd, Alas my wif!
And shal she drenche? alas min Alifoun!
For forwe of this he fell almost adoun,
And faid, Is ther no remedy in this cas?

Why yes, for God, quod Hendy Nicholas;
If thou wolt werken after lore and rede,
Thou maist not werken after thin owen hede;
For thus faith Salomon, that was ful trewe,
Werke all by confeil, and thou fhalt not rewe
And if thou werken wolt by good confeil
I undertake, withouten maft or feyl,
Yet fhall I faven hire, and thee and me.
Haft thou not herd how faved was Noe,
Whan that our Lord had warned him beforne,.
That all the world with water fhuld be lorne?
Yes, (quod this carpenter) ful yore ago.
Haft thou not herd (quod Nicholas) alfo
The forwe of Noe with his felawfhip,

Or that he might get his wif to ship?

Him had be lever, I dare wel undertake,

At thilke time, than all his wethers blake,
That she had had a fhip hire felf alone;

And therfore woft thou what is beft to done?
This axeth haft, and of an haftif thing
Men may not preche and maken tarying,
Anon go get us faft into this in

A kneding trough or elles a kemely

For eche of us; but loke that they ben large,
In which we mowen fwimme as in a barge;
And have therin vitaille fuffifant

But for a day; fie on the remenant;
The water fhall aflake and gon away
Abouten prime upon the nexte day.
But Robin may not wete of this thy knave,
Ne eke thy mayden Gille I may not fave :
Axe not why; for though thou axe me,
I wol not tellen Goddes privetee.
Sufficeth thee, but if thy wittes madde,
To have as gret a grace as Noe hadde.
Thy wif fhal I wel faven out of doute.
Go now thy way, and fpede thee hereaboute.

But whan thou haft for hire, and thee, and me,
Ygeten us these kneding tubbes thre,
Than fhalt thou hang hem in the roofe ful hie,
That no man of our purveyance espie:
And whan thou hast don thus as I have said,
And haft our vitaille faire in hem ylaid,
And eke an axe to fmite the cord a-two
Whan that the water cometh, that we may go
And breke an hole on high upon the gable
Unto the gardin ward, over the stable,
That we may frely paffen forth our way,
Whan that the grete fhoure is gon away,
Than fhal thou fwim as mery, I undertake,
As doth the white doke after hire drake;
Than wol I clepe, How, Alifon! how, John!
Be mery, for the flood wol paffe anon.
And thou wolt fain, Haile! Maister Nicholay,
Good morwe! I fee thee wel, for it is day.
And than fhall we be lordes all our lif
Of all the world, as Noe and his wif.
But of o thing I warne thee ful right,
Be wel avifed on that ilke night,
That we ben entred into shippes bord,
That non of us ne fpeke not o word,
Ne clepe ne crie, but be in his praiere,
For it is Goddes owen hefte dere.

Thy wif and thou mofte hangen fer a-twinne,
For that betwixen you fhal be no finne,
No more in loking than ther shall in dede.
This ordinance is faid; go, God thee spede.
To morwe at night, whan men ben all aslepe,
Into our kneding tubbes wol we crepe,
And fitten ther, abiding Goddes grace.
Go now thy way, I have no lenger space
To make of this, no lenger fermoning:
Men fain thus, Send the wife, and fay nothing:
Thou art so wife it nedeth thee nought teche.
Go, fave our lives, and that I thee befeche.

This fely carpenter goth forth his way,
Ful oft he faid Alas! and Wala wa!
And to his wif he told his privatee,
And the was ware, and knew it bet than he
What all this queinte caft was for to fey;
But natheles fhe ferde as the wold dey,
And faid, Alas! go forth thy way anon;
Helpe us to fcape, or we be ded eche on :
I am thy trewe veray wedded wif;

Go, dere spouse! and helpe to fave our lif.
Lo, what a gret thing is affection!
Men die of imagination,
may

So depe may impreffion be take.
This sely carpenter beginneth quake;
Him thinketh veraily that he may fee
Noes flood comen walwing as the fee
To drenchen Alison, his honey dere :
He wepeth, waileth, maketh fory chere;
He fiketh, with ful many a fory fwough.
He goth and geteth him a kneding trough,
And after a tubbe and a kemelin,

And prively he sent hem to his in,
And heng hem in the roof in privetee.
His owen hond than made he ladders three†,
To climben by the renges and the stalkes
Unto the tubbes honging in the balkes;
And hem vitailled, kemelin, trough, and tubbe,
With bred and chefe, and good ale in a jubbe,
Sufficing right ynow as for a day.

But er that he had made all this array
He fent his knave, and eke his wenche also,
Upon his nede to London for to go.
And on the Monday, whan it drew to night,
He fhette his dore, withouten candel light,
And dreffed all thing as it fhulde bee;
And fhortly up they clomben alle three.
They fitten ftille wel a furlong way.
Now, Pater-nofter, Clum, faid Nicholay,
And Clum, quod John, and Clum, faid Alison >
This carpenter faid his devotion,
And still he fit, and biddeth his praiere,
Awaiting on the rain, if he it here.

The dede flepe, for wery besineffe,
Fell on this carpenter, right as I geffe,
Abouten curfew time, or litel more.
For travaille of his goft he groneth fore,
And eft he routeth, for his hed mislay.
Doun of the ladder stalketh Nicholay,
And Alison ful soft adoun hire fpedde.
Withouten wordes mo they went to bedde,
Ther as the carpenter was wont to lie;
Ther was the revel and the melodie.
And thus lith Alison and Nicholas
In befineffe of mirthe and in folas,
Til that the bell of laudes gan to ring,
And freres in the chancel gon to fing.

This parish clerk, this amorous Abfolon,
That is for love alway fo wo-begon,
Upon the Monday was at Ofenay
With compagnie, him to difport and play,
And asked upon cas a cloisterer
Ful prively after John the carpenter;
And he drew him apart out of the chirche.
He faid, I no't, I faw him not here wirche
Sith Saturday; I trow that he be went
For timbre ther our abbot hath him fent;
For he is wont for timbre for to go,
And dwellen at the Grange a day or two;
Or elles he is at his hous certain :
Wher that he be I cannot fothly fain.

This Abfolon ful joly was and light,

And thoughte, now is time to wake al night,

+ With his own hand. So Gower, Conf. Amant, fol. 76.b The crafte Mynerve of wolle fonde, And made cloth her owen bonde.

for fikerly I faw him nat firing
About his dore fin day began to spring.
So mote I thrive I fhal at cockes crow
Ful prively go kuocke at his window,
That ftant full low upon his boures wall:
To Alifon wol I now tellen all

My love longing; for yet I fhall not miffe
That at the lefte way I fhal hire kisse.
Some maner comfort fhal I have parfay,
My mouth hath itched al this longe day;
That is a figne of kifling at the lefte:
All night me mette eke I was at a fefte:
Therfore I wol go flepe an houre or twey,
And all the night than wol I wake and pley.
Whan that the firfte cock hath crowe, anon
Up rift this joly lover Abfolon,
And him arayeth gay, at point devife;
But firft he cheweth grein and licorife,
To fmellen fote or he had spoke with here.
Under his tonge a trewe love he bere,
For therby wend he to ben gracious.
He cometh to the carpenteres hous,
And ftill he ftant under the fhot window;
Unto his breft it raught, it was fo low;
And foft he cougheth with a femifoun.

What do ye, honycombe, fwete Alifoun,
My faire bird, my fwete finamome!
Awaketh, lemman min, and speketh to me.
Ful litel thinken ye upon my wo,
That for your love I fwete ther as I go.
No wonder is though that I fwelte and fwete,
I mourne as doth a lamb after the tete.
Ywis, lemman, I have swiche love longing
That like a turtel trewe is my mourning.
I may not ete no more than a maid.
Go fro the window, jacke fool, she said:
As helpe me God it wol not be, compame.
I love another, or elles I were to blame,
Wel bet than thee by Jefu, Absolon.
Go forth thy way, or I wol cast a fton;
And let me flepe; a twenty divel way.

Alas! (quod Abfolon) and wala wa !
That trewe love was ever fo yvel befette :
Than kiffe me, fin that it may be no bette,
For Jefus love, and for the love of me.

Wilt thou than go thy way therwith? quod fhe.
Ya certes, lemman, quod this Abfolon.
Than make thee redy, (quod fhe) I come anon.
This Abfolon doun fet him on his knees,
And faide, I am a lord at all degrees:
For after this I hope ther cometh more;
Lemman, thy grace, and, fwete bird! thyn ore.
The window fhe undoth, and that in hafte.
Have don, (quod fhe) come of, and fpede thee faste,
Left that our neighboures thee efpie.

This Abfolon gan wipe his mouth ful drie.
Derke was the night as pitch or as the cole,
And at the window fhe put out hire hole,
And Abfolon him felle ne bet ne wers,
But with his mouth he kift hire naked ers
Ful favorly, er he was ware of this.

Abak he fterte, and thought it was amis,
For wel he wift a woman hath no berd.
He felt a thing all rowe, and long ylerd,

And faide, Fy, alas! what have I do?

Te he, quod fhe, and clapt the window to And Abfolon goth forth a fory pas.

A berd, a berd! faid Hendy Nicholas; By Goddes corpus this goth faire and wel. This fely Abfolon herd every del, And on his lippe he gan for anger bite, And to himself he faid I fhal thee quite. Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes With duft, with fond, with ftraw, with cloth, with But Abfolon? that faith full oft Alas! (chippes,

My foule betake I unto Sathanás

But me were lever than all this toun (quod he)
Of this defpit awroken for to be.
Alas! alas! that I ne had yblent.
His hote love is cold and all yqueint;
For fro that time that he had kist hire ers
Of paramours ne raught he not a kers,
For he was heled of his maladie;
Ful often paramours he gan defie,
And wepe as doth a child that is ybete.
A fofte pas he went him over the ftrete
Until a fmith man callen Dan Gerveis,
That in his forge fmithed plow-harneis ;
He sharpeth share and cultre befily.
This Abfolon knocketh all efily,
And faid, Undo, Gerveis, and that anon.

What, who art thou? It am I Abfolon.
What, Abfolon? what, Chriftes fwete tre,
Why rife ye fo rath? ey benedicite!

What eileth you? fome gay girle, God it wote,
Hath brought you thus upon the viretote :
By Seint Neote ye wote wel what I mene.

This Abfolon ne raughte not a bene
Of all his play; no word again he yaf :
He hadde more tawe on his diftaf
Than Gerveis knew, and faide, Frend fo dere;
That hote culter in the cheminee here
As lene it me, I have therwith to don;
I wol it bring again to thee ful fone.

Gerveis anfwered, Certes were it gold,
Or in a poke nobles all untold,
Thou fhuldeft it have, as I am trewe fmith..
Ey, Criftes foot, what wol ye don therwith?
Therof, quod Abfolon, be as be may,

I fhal wel tellen thee another day;
And caught the culter by the colde ftele.
Ful foft out at the dore he gan to ftele,
And went unto the carpenteres wall;
He coughed firft, and knocked therwithall
Upon the window, right as he did er.
This Alifon anfwered, Who is ther
That knocketh fo? I warrant him a thefe.
Nay, nay, (quod he) God wot, my fwete lefe,
I am thin Abfolon, thy dereling.

Of gold (quod he) I have thee brought a ring;
My mother yave it me, fo God me fave,
Ful fine it is, and therto wel ygrave;
This wol I yeven thee if thou me kiffe.

This Nicholas was rifen for to piffe,
And thought he wolde amenden all the jape,
He fhulde kifle his ers er that he scape;
And up the window did he haftily,
And out his ers he putteth privily

Over the buttok, to the hanche bon;
And therwith spake this clerk, this Absolon,
Speke fwete bird, I n'ot not wher thou art.
This Nicholas anon let fleen a fart
As gret as it had been a thonder dint,
That with the ftroke he was wel nie yblint;
And he was redy with his yren hote,
And Nicholas amid the ers he fmote.

Off goth the skinne an hondbrede al aboute.
The hote culter brenned fo his toute,
That for the fmert he wened for to die;
As he were wood for wo he gan to crie
Helpe, water, water! help for Goddes herte!
This carpenter out of his flumber sterte,
And herd on crie Water as he were wood,
And thought, alas! now cometh Noes flood.
He fet him up withouten wordes mo,
And with his axe he fmote the cord atwo,
And doun goth all; he fond neyther to felle
Ne breed ne ale til he came to the felle,
Upon the flore, and ther afwoune he lay.
Up fterten Alifon and Nicholay,
And crieden, Out and harrow! in the ftrete.
The neighboures bothe smale and grete
In rannen for to gauren on this man,
That yet alwonne lay bothe pale and wan,

For with the fall he broften hath his arm.
But ftonden he muft unto his owen harm,
For whan he fpake he was anon bore doun
With Hendy Nicholas and Alifoun.
They tolden every man that he was wood,
He was agafte fo of Noes flood

1 hurgh fantafie, that of his vanitee
He had ybought him kneding tubbes three,
And had hem henged in the roof above,
And that he praied hem for Goddes love
To fitten in the roof par compagnie.

The folk gan laughen at his fantafie.
Into the roof they kyken and they gape,
And turned all his harm into a jape.
For what so that this carpenter answerd
It was for nought, no man his refon herd.
With othes gret he was fo fworne adeun
That he was holden wood in all the toun,
For everich clerk anon right held with ether;
They faid the man was wood, my leve brother;
And every wight gan laughen at this ftrif,

Thus fwived was the carpenteres wif

For all his keping and his jaloufie,
And Abfolon hath kit hire nether eye,
And Nicholas is fcalded in the toute.

This Tale is don, and God fave all the route:

YOL. I.

WHAN folk han laughed at this nice cas
Of Abfolon and Hendy Nicholas,
Diverfe folk diverfely they faide,

But for the more part they lought and plaide,
Ne at this Tale I faw no man greve
But it were only Ofewold the Reve:
Because he was of carpenteres craft
A litel ire is in his herte ylaft;
He gan to grutch and blamen it a lite.

Se the ik, quod he, ful wel coude I him quite
With blering of a proude milleres eye,
If that me lift to speke of ribaudrie.
But ik am olde; me lift not play for age;
Gras time is don, my foddre is now forage:
This white top writeth mine old yeres;
Min herte is alfo moulded as min heres;
But if I fare as doth an open ers,
That ilke fruit is ever lenger the wers
Til it be roten in mullok or in ftre.

We olde men, I drede, fo faren we;
Til we be roten can we not be ripe;

We hoppe alway while that the world wol pipe;
For in our will ther ftiketh ever a nayl,
To have an hore hed and a grene tayl,

As hath a leke; for though our might be gon
Our will defireth folly ever in on;

For whan we may not don than wol we fpeken,
Yet in our afhen cold is fire yreken.

Four gledes han we which I fhal devife,
Avannting, lying, anger, and covetife ;
Thefe foure fparkes longen unto elde;
Our olde limes mow wel ben unwelde,
But will ne fhall not faillen that is fothe:
And yet have I alway a coltes tothe,
As many a yere as it paffed henne
Sin that my tappe of lif began to renne;

For fikerly whan I was borne anon
Deth drow the tappe of lif and let it gon;
And ever fith hath fo the tappe yronne,
Til that almost all empty is the tonne;

The ftreme of lif now droppeth on the chimbe.
The fely tonge may wel ringe and chimbe
Of wretchedneffe that paffed is ful yore:
With olde folk fave dotage is no more.

Whan that our Hofte had herd this fermoning,

He gan to fpeke as lordly as a king,

And fayde, What amounteth all this wit?
What, fhall we speke all day of holy writ?
The devil made a Reve for to preche,
Or of a fouter a fhipman or a leche.

Say forth thy Tale, and tary not the time;
Lo Depeford, and it is half way prime :
Lo Grenewich, ther many a fhrew is inne :
It were al time thy Tale to beginne.

Now, fires, quod this Ofewold the Reve,
I pray you alle that ye not you greve
Though I answere, and fomdel fet his howve;
For leful is with force force off to fhowve.

This dronken Miller hath ytold us here
How that begiled was a carpentere,
Paraventure in fcorne, for I am on;
And by your leve I fhal him quite anon:
Right in his cherles termes wol I fpeke;
I pray to God his necke mote to breke.
He can wel in min eye feen a stalk,
But in his owen he cannot feen a balk.

Kime, Teut. means the prominency of the flaves beyond the head of the barrel. The imagery is very exa♣ and beautiful,