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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395627" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Canterbury Tales; The Maunciples Tale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">PROLOGUE TO THE MAUNCIPLES TALE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heere folweth the Prologe of the Maunciples tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Woot ye nat where ther stant a litel toun,<br>Which that ycleped is Bobbe-up-and-doun<br>Under the Blee, in Caunterbury weye?<br>Ther gan oure Hooste for to jape and pleye,<br>And seyde, 'Sires, what, Dun is in the Myre!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is ther no man for preyere ne for hyre,<br>That wole awake oure felawe al bihynde?<br>A theef myghte hym ful lightly robbe and bynde.<br>See how he nappeth, see how for Cokkes bones,<br>That he wol falle fro his hors atones.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is that a Cook of London, with meschaunce?<br>Do hym com forth, he knoweth his penaunce,<br>For he shal telle a tale, by my fey,<br>Although it be nat worth a botel hey.<br>Awake, thou Cook,' quod he, 'God yeve thee sorwe,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What eyleth thee, to slepe by the morwe?<br>Hastow had fleen al nyght, or artow dronke?<br>Or hastow with som quene al nyght yswonke<br>So that thow mayst nat holden up thyn heed?'<br>This Cook that was ful pale, and no thyng reed,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seyde to oure Hoost, 'So God my soule blesse,<br>As ther is falle on me swich hevynesse,<br>Noot I nat why, that me were levere slepe<br>Than the beste galon wyn in Chepe.'<br>'Wel,' quod the Maunciple, 'if it may doon ese</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To thee, Sire Cook, and to no wight displese<br>Which that heere rideth in this compaignye,<br>And that oure Hoost wole of his curteisye,<br>I wol as now excuse thee of thy tale,<br>For, in good feith, thy visage is ful pale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thyne eyen daswen eek, as that me thynketh,<br>And wel I woot, thy breeth ful soure stynketh.<br>That sheweth wel thou art nat wel disposed,<br>Of me, certeyn, thou shalt nat been yglosed.<br>See how he ganeth, lo, this dronken wight!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As though he wolde swolwe us anonright.<br>Hoold cloos thy mouth, man, by thy fader kyn,<br>The devel of helle sette his foot therin.<br>Thy cursed breeth infecte wole us alle,<br>Fy, stynkyng swyn! fy, foule moothe thou falle!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A, taketh heede, sires, of this lusty man!<br>Now, sweete sire, wol ye justen atte fan?<br>Therto me thynketh ye been wel yshape,<br>I trowe that ye dronken han wyn-ape,<br>And that is, whan men pleyen with a straw.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with this speche the Cook wax wrooth and wraw,<br>And on the Manciple he gan nodde faste,<br>For lakke of speche, and doun the hors hym caste,<br>Where as he lay til that men up hym took;<br>This was a fair chyvachee of a Cook!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Allas, he nadde holde hym by his ladel!<br>And er that he agayn were in his sadel<br>Ther was greet showvyng bothe to and fro,<br>To lifte hym up, and muchel care and wo,<br>So unweeldy was this sory palled goost.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And to the Manciple thanne spak oure hoost,<br>'By cause drynke hath dominacioun,<br>Upon this man, by my savacioun,<br>I trowe he lewedly wolde telle his tale.<br>For were it wyn, or oold or moysty ale,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That he hath dronke, he speketh in his nose,<br>And fneseth faste, and eek he hath the pose.<br>He hath also to do moore than ynough<br>To kepen hym and his capul out of slough,<br>And if he falle from his capul eftsoone,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thanne shal we alle have ynogh to doone<br>In liftyng up his hevy dronken cors.<br>Telle on thy tale, of hym make I no fors;<br>But yet, Manciple, in feith thou art to nyce,<br>Thus openly repreve hym of his vice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Another day he wole peraventure<br>Reclayme thee and brynge thee to lure.<br>I meene he speke wole of smale thynges,<br>As for to pynchen at thy rekenynges,<br>That were nat honeste, if it cam to preef.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'No,' quod the Manciple, 'that were a greet mescheef,<br>So myghte he lightly brynge me in the snare;<br>Yet hadde I levere payen for the mare,<br>Which that he rit on, than he sholde with me stryve<br>I wol nat wratthen hym, al so moot I thryve;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That that I speke, I seyde it in my bourde.<br>And wite ye what, I have heer in a gourde<br>A draghte of wyn, ye, of a ripe grape,<br>And right anon ye shul seen a good jape.<br>This Cook shal drynke therof if that I may,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up peyne of deeth, he wol nat seye me nat.'<br>And certeynly, to tellen as it was,<br>Of this vessel the Cook drank faste; allas,<br>What neded hym? he drank ynough biforn!<br>And whan he hadde pouped in this horn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To the Manciple he took the gourde agayn,<br>And of that drynke the Cook was wonder fayn,<br>And thanked hym in swich wise as he koude.<br>Thanne gan oure Hoost to laughen wonder loude,<br>And seyde, 'I se wel it is necessarie</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where that we goon, that drynke we with us carie.<br>For that wol turne rancour and disese<br>Tacord and love and many a wrong apese.<br>O thou Bacus, yblessed be thy name,<br>That so kanst turnen ernest into game!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Worship and thank be to thy deitee!<br>Of that mateere ye gete namoore of me,<br>Telle on thy tale, Manciple, I thee preye.'<br>'Wel, sire,' quod he, 'now herkneth what I seye.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">THE MAUNCIPLES TALE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heere bigynneth the Maunciples tale of the Crowe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whan Phebus dwelled heere in this world adoun,<br>As olde bookes maken mencioun,<br>He was the mooste lusty bachiler<br>In al this world, and eek the beste archer.<br>He slow Phitoun the serpent, as he lay</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slepynge agayn the sonne upon a day;<br>And many another noble worthy dede<br>He with his bowe wroghte, as men may rede.<br>Pleyen he koude on every mynstralcie,<br>And syngen, that it was a melodie</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To heeren of his cleere voys the soun.<br>Certes, the kyng of Thebes, Amphioun,<br>That with his syngyng walled that citee,<br>Koude nevere syngen half so wel as hee.<br>Therto he was the semelieste man,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That is or was sith that the world bigan.<br>What nedeth it hise fetures to discryve?<br>For in this world was noon so fair on lyve.<br>He was therwith fulfild of gentillesse,<br>Of honour, and of parfit worthynesse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This Phebus that was flour of bachilrie,<br>As wel in fredom as in chivalrie,<br>For his desport, in signe eek of victorie<br>Of Phitoun, so as telleth us the storie,<br>Was wont to beren in his hand a bowe.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now hadde this Phebus in his hous a crowe,<br>Which in a cage he fostred many a day,<br>And taughte it speken as men teche a jay.<br>Whit was this crowe, as is a snow-whit swan,<br>And countrefete the speche of every man</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He koude, whan he sholde telle a tale.<br>Therwith in al this world no nyghtngale<br>Ne koude, by an hondred thousand deel,<br>Syngen so wonder myrily and weel.<br>Now hadde this Phebus in his hous a wyf</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which that he lovede moore than his lyf;<br>And nyght and day dide evere his diligence<br>Hir for to plese and doon hire reverence.<br>Save oonly, if the sothe that I shal sayn,<br>Jalous he was, and wolde have kept hire fayn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For hym were looth byjaped for to be-<br>And so is every wight in swich degree;<br>But al in ydel, for it availleth noght.<br>A good wyf that is clene of werk and thoght<br>Sholde nat been kept in noon awayt, certayn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And trewely the labour is in vayn<br>To kepe a shrewe, for it wol nat bee.<br>This holde I for a verray nycetee,<br>To spille labour for to kepe wyves,<br>Thus writen olde clerkes in hir lyves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now to purpos, as I first bigan:<br>This worthy Phebus dooth al that he kan<br>To plesen hir, wenynge that swich plesaunce,<br>And for his manhede and his governaunce,<br>That no man sholde han put hym from hire grace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But God it woot, ther may no man embrace<br>As to destreyne a thyng, which that nature<br>Hath natureelly set in a creature.<br>Taak any bryd, and put it in a cage,<br>And do al thyn entente and thy corage</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To fostre it tendrely with mete and drynke,<br>Of alle deyntees that thou kanst bithynke;<br>And keepe it al so clenly as thou may,<br>Al though his cage of gold be nevere so gay,<br>Yet hath this bryd, by twenty thousand foold,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Levere in a forest that is rude and coold<br>Goon ete wormes, and swich wrecchednesse;<br>For evere this bryd wol doon his bisynesse<br>To escape out of his cage, whan he may.<br>His libertee this bryd desireth ay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lat take a cat, and fostre hym wel with milk,<br>And tendre flessh, and make his couche of silk,<br>And lat hym seen a mous go by the wal,<br>Anon he weyveth milk and flessh and al,<br>And every deyntee that is in that hous,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Swich appetit he hath to ete a mous.<br>Lo, heere hath lust his dominacioun,<br>And appetit fleemeth discrecioun.<br>A she wolf hath also a vileyns kynde,<br>The lewedeste wolf that she may fynde,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or leest of reputacioun wol she take,<br>In tyme whan hir lust to han a make.<br>Alle thise ensamples speke I by thise men,<br>That been untrewe, and no thyng by wommen,<br>For men han evere a likerous appetit</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On lower thyng to parfourne hire delit,<br>Than on hire wyves, be they nevere so faire,<br>Ne nevere so trewe, ne so debonaire.<br>Flessh is so newefangel, with meschaunce,<br>That we ne konne in no thyng han plesaunce</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That sowneth into vertu any while.<br>This Phebus, which that thoghte upon no gile,<br>Deceyved was, for al his jolitee;<br>For under hym another hadde shee,<br>A man of litel reputacioun,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nat worth to Phebus in comparisoun.<br>The moore harm is, it happeth ofte so,<br>Of which ther cometh muchel harm and wo.<br>And so bifel, whan Phebus was absent,<br>His wyf anon hath for hir lemman sent;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hir lemman? certes, this is a knavyssh speche,<br>Foryeveth it me, and that I yow biseche.<br>The wise Plato seith, as ye may rede,<br>'The word moot nede accorde with the dede.'<br>If men shal telle proprely a thyng,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The word moot cosyn be to the werkyng.<br>I am a boystous man, right thus seye I.<br>Ther nys no difference trewely<br>Bitwixe a wyf that is of heigh degree-<br>If of hire body dishoneste she bee-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And a povre wenche, oother than this,<br>If it so be they werke bothe amys,<br>But that the gentile in hire estaat above,<br>She shal be cleped his lady as in love,<br>And for that oother is a povre womman,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She shal be cleped his wenche, or his lemman;<br>And God it woot, myn owene deere brother,<br>Men leyn that oon as lowe as lith that oother.<br>Right so bitwixe a titlelees tiraunt<br>And an outlawe, or a theef erraunt,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The same I seye, ther is no difference.<br>To Alisaundre was toold this sentence,<br>That for the tiraunt is of gretter myght,<br>By force of meynee for to sleen dounright,<br>And brennen hous and hoom, and make al playn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo, therfore is he cleped a capitayn!<br>And for the outlawe hath but smal meynee,<br>And may nat doon so greet an harm as he,<br>Ne brynge a contree to so greet mescheef,<br>Men clepen hym an outlawe or a theef.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But for I am a man noght textueel,<br>I wol noght telle of textes nevere a deel;<br>I wol go to my tale as I bigan.<br>Whan Phebus wyf had sente for hir lemman,<br>Anon they wroghten al hir lust volage.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The white crowe that heeng ay in the cage<br>Biheeld hire werk, and seyde nevere a word,<br>And whan that hoom was com Phebus the lord,<br>This crowe sang, 'Cokkow! Cokkow! Cokkow!'<br>'What bryd!' quod Phebus, 'what song syngestow?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ne were thow wont so myrily to synge<br>That to myn herte it was a rejoysynge<br>To heere thy voys? allas, what song is this?'<br>'By God,' quod he, 'I synge nat amys.<br>Phebus,' quod he, 'for al thy worthynesse,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For al thy beautee and thy gentillesse,<br>For al thy song and al thy mynstralcye,<br>For al thy waityng, blered is thyn eye<br>With oon of litel reputacioun<br>Noght worth to thee, as in comparisoun</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The montance of a gnat, so moote I thryve,<br>For on thy bed thy wyf I saugh hym swyve.'<br>What wol ye moore? the crowe anon hym tolde,<br>By sadde tokenes and by wordes bolde,<br>How that his wyf han doon hire lecherye,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hym to greet shame and to greet vileynye,<br>And tolde hym ofte, he asugh it with hise eyen.<br>This Phebus gan aweyward for to wryen,<br>And thoughte his sorweful herte brast atwo,<br>His bowe he bente and sette ther inne a flo,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in his ire his wyf thanne hath he slayn.<br>This is theffect, ther is namoore to sayn,<br>For sorwe of which he brak his mynstralcie,<br>Bothe harpe, and lute, and gyterne, and sautrie,<br>And eek he brak hise arwes and his bowe,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And after that thus spak he to the crowe.<br>'Traitour,' quod he, 'with tonge of scorpioun,<br>Thou hast me broght to my confusioun,<br>Allas, that I was wroght! why nere I deed?<br>O deere wyf, O gemme of lustiheed,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That were to me so sad and eek so trewe,<br>Now listow deed with face pale of hewe,<br>Ful giltelees, that dorste I swere, ywys.<br>O rakel hand, to doon so foule amys!<br>O trouble wit, O ire recchelees!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That unavysed smyteth gilteles.<br>O wantrust, ful of fals suspecioun,<br>Where was thy wit and thy discrecioun?<br>O, every man, be war of rakelnesse,<br>Ne trowe no thyng withouten strong witnesse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Smyt nat to soone, er that ye witen why,<br>And beeth avysed wel and sobrely,<br>Er ye doon any execucioun<br>Upon youre ire for suspecioun.<br>Allas, a thousand folk hath rakel ire</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fully fordoon, and broght hem in the mire!<br>Allas, for sorwe I wol myselven slee!'<br>And to the crowe, 'O false theef,' seyde he,<br>'I wol thee quite anon thy false tale;<br>Thou songe whilom lyk a nyghtngale,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now shaltow, false theef, thy song forgon,<br>And eek thy white fetheres everichon.<br>Ne nevere in al thy lyf ne shaltou speke,<br>Thus shal men on a traytour been awreke.<br>Thou and thyn ofspryng evere shul be blake,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ne nevere sweete noyse shul ye make,<br>But evere crie agayn tempest and rayn,<br>In tokenynge that thurgh thee my wyf is slayn.'<br>And to the crowe he stirte, and that anon,<br>And pulled hise white fetheres everychon,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And made hym blak, and refte hym al his song,<br>And eek his speche, and out at dore hym slong,<br>Unto the devel-which I hym bitake!-<br>And for this caas been alle Crowes blake.<br>Lordynges, by this ensample I yow preye,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beth war and taketh kepe what I seye:<br>Ne telleth nevere no man in youre lyf<br>How that another man hath dight his wyf;<br>He wol yow haten mortally, certeyn.<br>Daun Salomon, as wise clerkes seyn,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Techeth a man to kepen his tonge weel.<br>But as I seyde, I am noght textueel;<br>But nathelees, thus taughte me my dame;<br>'My sone, thenk on the crowe, on Goddes name.<br>My sone, keepe wel thy tonge and keepe thy freend,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A wikked tonge is worse than a feend.<br>My sone, from a feend men may hem blesse.<br>My sone, God of his endelees goodnesse<br>Walled a tonge with teeth and lippes eke,<br>For man sholde hym avyse what he speeke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My sone, ful ofte for to muche speche<br>Hath many a man been spilt, as clerkes teche.<br>But for litel speche, avysely,<br>Is no man shent, to speke generally.<br>My sone, thy tonge sholdestow restreyne</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At alle tymes, but whan thou doost thy peyne<br>To speke of God in honour and in preyere;<br>The firste vertu sone, if thou wolt leere,<br>Is to restreyne and kepe wel thy tonge.<br>Thus lerne children, whan that they been yonge,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My sone, of muchel spekyng yvele avysed,<br>Ther lasse spekyng hadde ynough suffised,<br>Comth muchel harm-thus was me toold and taught.-<br>In muchel speche synne wanteth naught.<br>Wostow wherof a rakel tonge serveth?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Right as a swerd forkutteth and forkerveth<br>An arme atwo, my deere sone, right so<br>A tonge kutteth freendshipe al atwo.<br>A jangler is to God abhomynable;<br>Reed Salomon, so wys and honurable,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Reed David in hise psalmes, reed Senekke!<br>My sone, spek nat, but with thyn heed thou bekke;<br>Dissimule as thou were deef, it that thou heere<br>A jangler speke of perilous mateere.<br>The Flemyng seith, and lerne it if thee leste,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That litel janglyng causeth muchel reste.<br>My sone, if thou no wikked word hast seyd,<br>Thee thar nat drede for to be biwreyd;<br>But he that hath mysseyd, I dar wel sayn,<br>He may by no wey clepe his word agayn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thyng that is seyd is seyd, and forth it gooth;<br>Though hym repente, or be hym leef or looth,<br>He is his thral to whom that he hath sayd<br>A tale, of which he is now yvele apayd.<br>My sone, be war, and be noon auctour newe</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Of tidynyges, wheither they been false or trewe,<br>Wherso thou com, amonges hye or lowe,<br>Kepe wel thy tonge, and thenk upon the Crowe.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heere is ended the Maunciples tale of the Crowe.</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=395627" data-title="The Canterbury Tales; The Maunciples Tale de Geoffrey Chaucer" data-description="PROLOGUE TO THE MAUNCIPLES TALE/Heere folweth the Prologe of the Maunciples tale./Woot ye nat where ther stant a litel toun,/Which that ycleped is Bobbe-up-and-doun/Under the Blee, in Caunterbury weye?/Ther gan oure Hooste for to jape and pleye,/A..."></div>
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