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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395621" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Canterbury Tales; the Seconde Nonnes Tale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Prologe of the Seconde Nonnes Tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ministre and the norice unto vices,<br>Which that men clepe in Englissh ydelnesse,<br>That porter of the gate is of delices,<br>To eschue, and by hir contrarie hir oppresse,<br>(That is to seyn by leveful bisynesse),<br>Wel oghten we to doon al oure entente,<br>Lest that the feend thurgh ydelnesse us shente.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For he, that with hise thousand cordes slye<br>Continuelly us waiteth to biclappe,<br>Whan he may man in ydelnesse espye,<br>He kan so lightly cacche hym in his trappe,<br>Til that a man be hent right by the lappe,<br>He nys nat war the feend hath hym in honde.<br>Wel oghte us werche, and ydelnesse withstonde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And though men dradden nevere for to dye,<br>Yet seen men wel by resoun, doutelees,<br>That ydelnesse is roten slogardye,<br>Of which ther nevere comth no good encrees;<br>And seen that slouthe hir holdeth in a lees,<br>Oonly to slepe, and for to ete and drynke,<br>And to devouren al that othere swynke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And for to putte us fro swich ydelnesse,<br>That cause is of so greet confusioun,<br>I have heer doon my feithful bisynesse,<br>After the legende, in translacioun<br>Right of thy glorious lyf and passioun,<br>Thou with thy gerland wroght with rose and lilie,<br>Thee meene I, mayde and martir, seint Cecilie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Invocacio ad Mariam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thow that flour of virgines art alle,<br>Of whom that Bernard list so wel to write,<br>To thee at my bigynnyng first I calle,<br>Thou confort of us wrecches, do me endite<br>Thy maydens deeth, that wan thurgh hir merite</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The eterneel lyf, and of the feend victorie,<br>As man may after reden in hir storie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thow mayde and mooder, doghter of thy sone,<br>Thow welle of mercy, synful soules cure,<br>In whom that God for bountee chees to wone,<br>Thow humble and heigh, over every creature<br>Thow nobledest so ferforth oure nature,<br>That no desdeyn the makere hadde of kynde,<br>His sone in blood and flessh to clothe and wynde,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Withinne the cloistre blisful of thy sydis<br>Took mannes shape the eterneel love and pees,<br>That of the tryne compas lord and gyde is,<br>Whom erthe and see and hevene out of relees<br>Ay heryen, and thou, virgine wemmelees,<br>Baar of thy body, and dweltest mayden pure,<br>The creatour of every creature.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Assembled is in thee magnificence<br>With mercy, goodnesse, and with swich pitee<br>That thou, that art the sonne of excellence,<br>Nat oonly helpest hem that preyen thee,<br>But oftentyme, of thy benygnytee,<br>Ful frely, er that men thyn help biseche,<br>Thou goost biforn, and art hir lyves leche.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now help, thow meeke and blisful faire mayde,<br>Me, flemed wrecche in this desert of galle;<br>Thynk on the womman Cananee, that sayde<br>That whelpes eten somme of the crommes alle,<br>That from hir lordes table been yfalle,<br>And though that I, unworthy sone of Eve,<br>Be synful, yet accepte my bileve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And for that feith is deed withouten werkis, <br>So for to werken yif me wit and space,<br>That I be quit fro thennes that moost derk is.<br>O thou, that art so fair and ful of grace,<br>Be myn advocat in that heighe place<br>Ther as withouten ende is songe Osanne,<br>Thow Cristes mooder, doghter deere of Anne!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And of thy light my soule in prison lighte,<br>That troubled is by the contagioun<br>Of my body, and also by the wighte<br>Of erthely lust and fals affeccioun,<br>O havene of refut, O salvacioune<br>Of hem that been in sorwe and in distresse,<br>Now help, for to my werk I wol me dresse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet preye I yow that reden that I write,<br>Foryeve me, that I do no diligence<br>This ilke storie subtilly to endite,<br>For bothe have I the wordes and sentence<br>Of hym that at the seintes reverence<br>The storie wroot, and folwe hir legende.<br>I pray yow, that ye wole my werk amende.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">First wolde I yow the name of seinte Cecile<br>Expowne, as men may in hir storie see.<br>It is to seye in Englissh, `hevenes lilie'<br>For pure chaastnesse of virginitee,<br>Or for she whitnesse hadde of honestee<br>And grene of conscience, and of good fame<br>The soote savour, lilie was hir name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or Cecilie is to seye, `the wey to blynde,'<br>For she ensample was by good techynge;<br>Or elles, Cecile, as I writen fynde<br>Is joyned by a manere conjoynynge<br>Of `hevene' and `lia,' and heere in figurynge<br>The `hevene' is set for thoght of hoolynesse,<br>And `lia' for hir lastynge bisynesse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cecile may eek be seyd, in this manere,<br>`Wantynge of blyndnesse,' for hir grete light<br>Of sapience, and for hire thewes cleere<br>Or elles, loo, this maydens name bright<br>Of `hevene' and `leos' comth, for which by right<br>Men myghte hir wel `the hevene of peple' calle,<br>Ensample of goode and wise werkes alle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For `leos' `peple' in Englissh is to seye,<br>And right as men may in the hevene see<br>The sonne and moone and sterres every weye,<br>Right so men goostly, in this mayden free,<br>Syen of feith the magnanymytee,<br>And eek the cleernesse hool of sapience,<br>And sondry werkes, brighte of excellence.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And right so as thise philosophres write<br>That hevene is swift and round and eek brennynge,<br>Right so was faire Cecilie the white<br>Ful swift and bisy evere in good werkynge,<br>And round and hool in good perseverynge,<br>And brennynge evere in charite ful brighte.<br>Now have I yow declared what she highte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here bigynneth the Seconde Nonnes tale of the lyf of Seinte Cecile.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This mayden, bright Cecilie, as hir lyf seith,<br>Was comen of Romayns, and of noble kynde,<br>And from hir cradel up fostred in the feith<br>Of Crist, and bar his gospel in hir mynde.<br>She nevere cessed, as I writen fynde,<br>Of hir preyere, and God to love and drede,<br>Bisekynge hym to kepe hir maydenhede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And whan this mayden sholde unto a man<br>Ywedded be, that was ful yong of age,<br>Which that ycleped was Valerian,<br>And day was comen of hir mariage,<br>She, ful devout and humble in hir corage,<br>Under hir robe of gold, that sat ful faire,<br>Hadde next hir flessh yclad hir in an haire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And whil the orgnes maden melodie,<br>To God allone in herte thus sang she:<br>'O Lord, my soule and eek my body gye<br>Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be.'<br>And for his love that dyde upon a tree,<br>Every seconde and thridde day she faste,<br>Ay biddynge in hir orisons ful faste.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The nyght cam, and to bedde moste she gon<br>With hir housbonde, as ofte is the manere,<br>And pryvely to hym she seyde anon,<br>'O sweete and wel biloved spouse deere,<br>Ther is a conseil, and ye wolde it heere,<br>Which that right fayn I wolde unto yow seye,<br>So that ye swere ye shul me nat biwreye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Valerian gan faste unto hire swere<br>That for no cas, ne thyng that myghte be,<br>He sholde nevere mo biwreyen here,<br>And thanne at erst to hym thus seyde she,<br>'I have an Aungel which that loveth me,<br>That with greet love, wher so I wake or sleepe,<br>Is redy ay my body for to kepe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if that he may feelen out of drede<br>That ye me touche, or love in vileynye,<br>He right anon wol sle yow with the dede,<br>And in youre yowthe thus ye sholden dye.<br>And if that ye in clene love me gye,<br>He wol yow loven as me for youre clennesse,<br>And shewen yow his joye and his brightnesse.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Valerian, corrected as God wolde,<br>Answerde agayn, 'If I shal trusten thee,<br>Lat me that aungel se, and hym biholde,<br>And if that it a verray aungel bee,<br>Thanne wol I doon as thou hast prayed me;<br>And if thou love another man, forsothe<br>Right with this swerd thanne wol I sle yow bothe.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cecile answerde anon right in this wise,<br>'If that yow list, the aungel shul ye see,<br>So that ye trowe in Crist, and yow baptize.<br>Gooth forth to Via Apia,' quod she,<br>'That fro this toun ne stant but miles thre;<br>And to the povre folkes that ther dwelle<br>Sey hem right thus as that I shal yow telle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Telle hem, that I Cecile yow to hem sente,<br>To shewen yow the goode Urban the olde,<br>For secree thynges and for good entente;<br>And whan that ye Seint Urban han biholde,<br>Telle hym the wordes whiche that I to yow tolde,<br>And whan that he hath purged yow fro synne,<br>Thanne shul ye se that aungel er ye twynne.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Valerian is to the place ygon,<br>And right as hym was taught by his lernynge,<br>He foond this hooly olde Urban anon<br>Among the seintes buryeles lotynge.<br>And he anon, withouten tariynge,<br>Dide his message, and whan that he it tolde,<br>Urban for joye his handes gan up holde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The teeris from hise eyen leet he falle.<br>'Almyghty lord, O Jesu Crist,' quod he,<br>'Sower of chaast conseil, hierde of us alle,<br>The fruyt of thilke seed of chastitee<br>That thou hast sowe in Cecile, taak to thee.<br>Lo, lyk a bisy bee, withouten gile,<br>Thee serveth ay thyn owene thral Cecile!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For thilke spouse that she took but now<br>Ful lyk a fiers leoun, she sendeth heere<br>As meke as evere was any lomb, to yow.'<br>And with that word anon ther gan appeere<br>An oold man clad in white clothes cleere,<br>That hadde a book with lettre of gold in honde,<br>And gan bifore Valerian to stonde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Valerian as deed fil doun for drede<br>Whan he hym saugh, and he up hente hym tho,<br>And on his book right thus he gan to rede,<br>'O lord, o feith, o god, withouten mo,<br>O Cristendom, and fader of alle also,<br>Aboven alle, and over alle, everywhere.-'<br>Thise wordes al with gold ywriten were.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whan this was rad, thanne seyde this olde man,<br>'Leevestow this thyng or no? sey ye or nay?'<br>'I leeve al this thyng,' quod Valerian,<br>'For oother thyng than this, I dar wel say,<br>Under the hevene no wight thynke may.'<br>Tho vanysshed this olde man, he nyste where;<br>And Pope Urban hym cristned right there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Valerian gooth hoom, and fynt Cecile<br>Withinne his chambre with an aungel stonde.<br>This aungel hadde of roses and of lilie<br>Corones two, the whiche he bar in honde;<br>And first to Cecile, as I understonde,<br>He yaf that oon, and after gan he take<br>That oother to Valerian hir make.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'With body clene and with unwemmed thoght<br>Kepeth ay wel thise corones,' quod he,<br>'Fro Paradys to yow have I hem broght,<br>Ne nevere mo ne shal they roten bee,<br>Ne lese hir soote savour, trusteth me,<br>Ne nevere wight shal seen hem with his eye<br>But he be chaast and hate vileynye.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thow Valerian, for thow so soone<br>Assentedest to good conseil also,<br>Sey what thee list, and thou shalt han thy boone.'<br>'I have a brother,' quod Valerian tho,<br>'That in this world I love no man so.<br>I pray yow that my brother may han grace,<br>To knowe the trouthe, as I do in this place.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>The aungel seyde, 'God liketh thy requeste,<br>And bothe with the palm of martirdom<br>Ye shullen com unto his blisful feste.'<br>And with that word Tiburce his brother coom;<br>And whan that he the savour undernoom,<br>Which that the roses and the lilies caste,<br>Withinne his herte he gan to wondre faste,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And seyde, 'I wondre, this tyme of the yeer,<br>Whennes that soote savour cometh so <br>Of rose and lilies that I smelle heer.<br>For though I hadde hem in myne handes two,<br>The savour myghte in me no depper go,<br>The sweete smel that in myn herte I fynde<br>Hath chaunged me al in another kynde.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Valerian seyde, 'Two corones han we,<br>Snow-white and rose-reed that shynen cleere,<br>Whiche that thyne eyen han no myght to see,<br>And as thou smellest hem thurgh my preyere,<br>So shaltow seen hem, leeve brother deere,<br>If it so be thou wolt, withouten slouthe,<br>Bileve aright and knowen verray trouthe.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tiburce answerde, 'Seistow this to me?<br>In soothnesse or in dreem I herkne this?'<br>'In dremes,' quod Valerian, 'han we be<br>Unto this tyme, brother myn, ywes;<br>But now at erst in trouthe oure dwellyng is.'<br>'How woostow this,' quod Tiburce, 'in what wyse?'<br>Quod Valerian, 'That shal I thee devyse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The aungel of God hath me the trouthe ytaught<br>Which thou shalt seen, if that thou wolt reneye<br>The ydoles and be clene, and elles naught.'<br>And of the myracle of thise corones tweye<br>Seint Ambrose in his preface list to seye.<br>Solempnely this noble doctour deere<br>Commendeth it, and seith in this manere;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The palm of martirdom for to receyve<br>Seinte Cecile, fulfild of Goddes yifte,<br>The world and eek hire chambre gan she weyve,<br>Witnesse Tyburces and Valerians shrifte,<br>To whiche God of his bountee wolde shifte<br>Corones two, of floures wel smellynge,<br>And made his aungel hem the corones brynge.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mayde hath broght thise men to blisse above;<br>The world hath wist what it is worth, certeyn,<br>Devocioun of chastitee to love. . . .<br>Tho shewed hym Cecile, al open and pleyn,<br>That alle ydoles nys but a thyng in veyn,<br>For they been dombe and therto they been deve,<br>And charged hym hise ydoles for to leve.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Whoso that troweth, nat this, a beest he is,'<br>Quod tho Tiburce, 'if that I shal nat lye.'<br>And she gan kisse his brest, that herde this,<br>And was ful glad he koude trouthe espye.<br>'This day I take thee for myn allye,'<br>Seyde this blisful faire mayde deere,<br>And after that she seyde as ye may heere.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Lo, right so as the love of Crist,' quod she,<br>'Made me thy brotheres wyf, right in that wise<br>Anon for myn allyee heer take I thee,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syn that thou wolt thyne ydoles despise.<br>Go with thy brother now, and thee baptise,<br>And make thee clene, so that thou mowe biholde<br>The aungels face of which thy brother tolde.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tiburce answerde and seyde, 'Brother deere,<br>First tel me whider I shal, and to what man?'<br>'To whom?' quod he, 'com forth with right good cheere,<br>I wol thee lede unto the Pope Urban.'<br>'Til Urban? brother myn Valerian,'<br>Quod tho Tiburce, 'woltow me thider lede?<br>Me thynketh that it were a wonder dede.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ne menestow nat Urban,' quod he tho, <br>'That is so ofte dampned to be deed,<br>And woneth in halkes alwey to and fro,<br>And dar nat ones putte forth his heed;<br>Men sholde hym brennen in a fyr so reed,<br>If he were founde, or that men myghte hym spye;<br>And we also, to bere hym compaignye,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And whil we seken thilke divinitee,<br>That is yhid in hevene pryvely,<br>Algate ybrend in this world shul we be!'<br>To whom Cecile answerde boldely,<br>'Men myghten dreden wel and skilfully<br>This lyf to lese, myn owene deere brother,<br>If this were lyvynge oonly and noon oother.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But ther is bettre lyf in oother place,<br>That nevere shal be lost, ne drede thee noght,<br>Which Goddes sone us tolde thurgh his grace.<br>That fadres sone hath alle thyng ywroght,<br>And al that wroght is with a skilful thoght,<br>The goost, that fro the fader gan procede,<br>Hath sowled hem, withouten any drede.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By word and by myracel Goddes Sone,<br>Whan he was in this world, declared heere<br>That ther was oother lyf ther men may wone.'<br>To whom answerde Tiburce, 'O suster deere,<br>Ne seydestow right now in this manere,<br>Ther nys but o God, lord in soothfastnesse,<br>And now of thre how maystow bere witnesse?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'That shal I telle,' quod she, 'er I go.<br>Right as a man hath sapiences thre,<br>Memorie, engyn, and intellect also,<br>So, in o beynge of divinitee<br>Thre persones may ther right wel bee.'<br>Tho gan she hym ful bisily to preche<br>Of Cristes come, and of hise peynes teche,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And many pointes of his passioun;<br>How Goddes sone in this world was withholde<br>To doon mankynde pleyn remissioun,<br>That was ybounde in synne and cares colde . . .<br>Al this thyng she unto Tiburce tolde;<br>And after this, Tiburce in good entente<br>With Valerian to Pope Urban he wente;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That thanked God, and with glad herte and light<br>He cristned hym, and made hym in that place<br>Parfit in his lernynge, Goddes knyght.<br>And after this Tiburce gat swich grace<br>That every day he saugh in tyme and space<br>The aungel of God, and every maner boone<br>That he God axed, it was sped ful soone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It were ful hard by ordre for to seyn<br>How manye wondres Jesu for hem wroghte.<br>But atte laste, to tellen short and pleyn,<br>The sergeantz of the toun of Rome hem soghte,<br>And hem biforn Almache the Prefect broghte,<br>Which hem opposed, and knew al hire entente,<br>And to the ymage of Juppiter hem sente,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And seyde, 'Whoso wol nat sacrifise,<br>Swap of his heed, this my sentence heer.'<br>Anon thise martirs that I yow devyse,<br>Oon Maximus, that was an officer<br>Of the prefectes, and his corniculer,<br>Hem hente, and whan he forth the seintes ladde,<br>Hymself he weepe, for pitee that he hadde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whan Maximus had herd the seintes loore,<br>He gat hym of the tormentoures leve,<br>And ladde hem to his hous withoute moore.<br>And with hir prechyng, er that it were eve,<br>They gonnen fro the tormentours to reve,<br>And fro Maxime, and fro his folk echone<br>The fals feith, to trowe in God allone.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cecile cam whan it was woxen nyght,<br>With preestes that hem cristned alle yfeere,<br>And afterward, whan day was woxen light,<br>Cecile hem seyde, with a ful stedefast cheere,<br>'Now Cristes owene knyghtes, leeve and deere,<br>Cast alle awey the werkes of derkness<br>And armeth yow in armure of brightnesse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye han forsothe ydoon a greet bataille,<br>Youre cours is doon, youre feith han ye conserved,<br>Gooth to the corone of lyf that may nat faille.<br>The rightful juge which that ye han served<br>Shal yeve it yow as ye han it deserved.'<br>And whan this thyng was seyd as I devyse,<br>Men ledde hem forth to doon the sacrifise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But whan they weren to the place broght,<br>To tellen shortly the conclusioun,<br>They nolde encense ne sacrifise right noght,<br>But on hir knees they setten hem adoun<br>With humble herte and sad devocioun,<br>And losten bothe hir hevedes in the place.<br>Her soules wenten to the kyng of grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This Maximus that saugh this thyng bityde,<br>With pitous teeris tolde it anon-right,<br>That he hir soules saugh to hevene glyde,<br>With aungels ful of cleernesse and of light;<br>And with this word converted many a wight.<br>For which Almachius dide hym so bete<br>With whippe of leed, til he the lyf gan lete.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cecile hym took, and buryed hym anon<br>By Tiburce and Valerian softely,<br>Withinne hir buriyng place under the stoon,<br>And after this Almachius hastily<br>Bad hise ministres fecchen openly<br>Cecile, so that she myghte in his presence<br>Doon sacrifice, and Juppiter encense.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But they, converted at hir wise loore,<br>Wepten ful soore, and yaven ful credence<br>Unto hire word, and cryden moore and moore,<br>'Crist, Goddes sone, withouten difference,<br>Is verray God, this is al oure sentence,<br>That hath so good a servant hym to serve<br>This with o voys we trowen, thogh we sterve.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Almachius, that herde of this doynge,<br>Bad fecchen Cecile, that he myghte hir see,<br>And alderfirst, lo, this was his axynge:<br>'What maner womman artow?' tho quod he.<br>'I am a gentil womman born,' quod she.<br>'I axe thee,' quod he, 'though it thee greeve,<br>Of thy religioun and of thy bileeve.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ye han bigonne youre question folily,'<br>Quod she, 'that wolden two answeres conclude<br>In o demande; ye axed lewedly.'<br>Almache answerde unto that similitude,<br>'Of whennes comth thyn answeryng so rude?'<br>'Of whennes?' quod she, whan that she was freyned,<br>'Of conscience and of good feith unfeyned.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Almachius seyde, 'Ne takestow noon heede<br>Of my power?' and she answerde hym,<br>'Youre myght,' quod she, 'ful litel is to dreede,<br>For every mortal mannes power nys<br>But lyke a bladdre ful of wynd, ywys;<br>For with a nedles poynt, whan it is blowe,<br>May al the boost of it be leyd ful lowe.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ful wrongfully bigonne thow,' quod he,<br>'And yet in wrong is thy perseveraunce;<br>Wostow nat how oure myghty princes free<br>Han thus comanded and maad ordinaunce<br>That every cristen wight shal han penaunce,<br>But if that he his cristendom withseye-<br>And goon al quit, if he wole it reneye?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Youre princes erren, as youre nobleye dooth,'<br>Quod tho Cecile, 'and with a wood sentence<br>Ye make us gilty, and it is nat sooth,<br>For ye, that knowen wel oure innocence,<br>For as muche as we doon a reverence<br>To Crist, and for we bere a cristen name,<br>Ye putte on us a cryme, and eek a blame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But we that knowen thilke name so<br>For vertuous, we may it nat withseye.'<br>Almache answerde, 'Chees oon of thise two,<br>Do sacrifise, or cristendom reneye,<br>That thou mowe now escapen by that weye.'<br>At which the hooly blisful faire mayde<br>Gan for to laughe, and to the juge sayde,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O Juge, confus in thy nycetee,<br>Woltow that I reneye innocence,<br>To make me a wikked wight,' quod shee;<br>'Lo, he dissymuleth heere in audience,<br>He stareth, and woodeth in his advertence.'<br>To whom Almachius, 'Unsely wrecche,<br>Ne woostow nat how far my myght may strecche?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Han noght oure myghty princes to me yeven<br>Ye, bothe power and auctoritee<br>To maken folk to dyen or to lyven?<br>Why spekestow so proudly thanne to me?'<br>'I speke noght but stedfastly,' quod she,<br>'Nat proudly, for I speke as for my syde,<br>We haten deedly thilke vice of pryde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And if thou drede nat a sooth to heere,<br>Thanne wol I shewe al openly by right <br>That thou hast maad a ful grete lesyng heere,<br>Thou seyst, thy princes han thee yeven myght<br>Bothe for to sleen, and for to quyken a wight.<br>Thou that ne mayst but oonly lyf bireve,<br>Thou hast noon oother power, ne no leve!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But thou mayst seyn thy princes han thee maked<br>Ministre of deeth, for if thou speke of mo,<br>Thou lyest, for thy power is ful naked.'<br>'Do wey thy booldnesse,' seyde Almachius tho,<br>'And sacrifise to oure goddes er thou go.<br>I recche na twhat wrong that thou me profre,<br>For I can suffre it as a philosophre.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But thilke wronges may I nat endure<br>That thou spekest of oure goddes heere,' quod he.<br>Cecile answerde, 'O nyce creature,<br>Thou seydest no word, syn thou spak to me,<br>That I ne knew therwith thy nycetee,<br>And that thou were in every maner wise<br>A lewed officer and a veyn justise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ther lakketh no thyng to thyne outter eyen<br>That thou nart blynd, for thyng that we seen alle<br>That it is stoon, that men may wel espyen,<br>That ilke stoon a god thow wolt it calle.<br>I rede thee lat thyn hand upon it falle,<br>And taste it wel, and stoon thou shalt it fynde,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syn that thou seest nat with thyne eyen blynde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is a shame that the peple shal<br>So scorne thee, and laughe at thy folye,<br>For communly men woot it wel overal<br>That myghty God is in hise hevenes hye,<br>And thise ymages, wel thou mayst espye,<br>To thee ne to hemself mowen noght profite,<br>For in effect they been nat worth a myte.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thise wordes and swiche othere seyde she,<br>And he weex wrooth, and bad men sholde hir lede<br>Hom til hir hous, and 'in hire hous,' quod he,<br>'Brenne hire right in a bath of flambes rede.'<br>And as he bad, right so was doon in dede,<br>For in a bath they gonne hire faste shetten,<br>And nyght and day greet fyre they underbetten.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The longe nyght and eek a day also<br>For al the fyr and eek the bathes heete<br>She sat al coold, and feelede no wo;<br>It made hir nat a drope for to sweete.<br>But in that bath hir lyf she moste lete,<br>For he Almachius, with a ful wikke entente,<br>To sleen hir in the bath his sonde sente.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thre strokes in the nekke he smoot hir tho,<br>The tormentour, but for no maner chaunce<br>He myghte noght smyte al hir nekke atwo.<br>And for ther was that tyme an ordinaunce<br>That no man sholde doon men swich penaunce<br>The ferthe strook to smyten, softe or soore,<br>This tormentour ne dorste do namoore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But half deed, with hir nekke ycorven there,<br>He lefte hir lye, and on his wey is went.<br>The cristen folk, which that aboute hir were,<br>With sheetes han the blood ful faire yhent.<br>Thre dayes lyved she in this torment,<br>And nevere cessed hem the feith to teche;<br>That she hadde fostred, hem she gan to preche.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And hem she yaf hir moebles, and hir thyng,<br>And to the Pope Urban bitook hem tho,<br>And seyde, 'I axed this at hevene kyng<br>To han respit thre dayes, and namo,<br>To recomende to yow er that I go<br>Thise soules, lo, and that I myghte do werche<br>Heere of myn hous perpetuelly a chirche.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seint Urban with hise deknes prively<br>This body fette, and buryed it by nyghte,<br>Among hise othere seintes, honestly.<br>Hir hous the chirche of seinte Cecilie highte;<br>Seint Urban halwed it, as he wel myghte,<br>In which, into this day, in noble wyse<br>Men doon to Crist and to his seinte servyse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heere is ended the Seconde Nonnes tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Geoffrey+Chaucer">Geoffrey Chaucer</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395621" data-title="The Canterbury Tales; the Seconde Nonnes Tale de Geoffrey Chaucer" data-description="The Prologe of the Seconde Nonnes Tale./The ministre and the norice unto vices,/Which that men clepe in Englissh ydelnesse,/That porter of the gate is of delices,/To eschue, and by hir contrarie hir oppresse,/(That is to seyn by leveful bisynesse)..."></div>
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