The Canterbury Tales: The Miller's Prologue and Tale

THE MILLER'S PROLOGUE.Here folwen the wordes bitwene the Host and the Millere. Whan that the Knight had thus his tale y-told, In al the route nas ther yong ne old That he ne seyde it was a noble storie, And worthy for to drawen to memorie; And namely the gentils everichoon. Our Hoste lough and swoor, ‘so moot I goon, This gooth aright; unbokeled is the male; Lat see now who shal telle another tale: For trewely, the game is wel bigonne. Now telleth ye, sir Monk, if that ye conne, Sumwhat, to quyte with the Knightes tale.’ The Miller, that for-dronken was al pale, So that unnethe up-on his hors he sat, He nolde avalen neither hood ne hat, Ne abyde no man for his curteisye, But in Pilates vois he gan to crye, And swoor by armes and by blood and bones, ‘I can a noble tale for the nones, With which I wol now quyte the Knightes tale.’ Our Hoste saugh that he was dronke of ale, And seyde: ‘abyd, Robin, my leve brother, Som bettre man shal telle us first another: Abyd, and lat us werken thriftily.’ ‘By goddes soul,’ quod he, ‘that wol nat I; For I wol speke, or elles go my wey.’ Our Hoste answerde: ‘tel on, a devel wey! Thou art a fool, thy wit is overcome.’ ‘Now herkneth,’ quod the Miller, ‘alle and some! But first I make a protestacioun That I am dronke, I knowe it by my soun; And therfore, if that I misspeke or seye, Wyte it the ale of Southwerk, I yow preye; For I wol telle a legende and a lyf Bothe of a Carpenter, and of his wyf, How that a clerk hath set the wrightes cappe.’ The Reve answerde and seyde, ‘stint thy clappe, Lat be thy lewed dronken harlotrye. It is a sinne and eek a greet folye To apeiren any man, or him diffame, And eek to bringen wyves in swich fame. Thou mayst y-nogh of othere thinges seyn.’ This dronken Miller spak ful sone ageyn, And seyde, ‘leve brother Osewold, Who hath no wyf, he is no cokewold. But I sey nat therfore that thou art oon; Ther been ful gode wyves many oon, And ever a thousand gode ayeyns oon badde, That knowestow wel thy-self, but-if thou madde. Why artow angry with my tale now? I have a wyf, pardee, as well as thou, Yet nolde I, for the oxen in my plogh, Taken up-on me more than y-nogh, As demen of my-self that I were oon; I wol beleve wel that I am noon. An housbond shal nat been inquisitif Of goddes privetee, nor of his wyf. So he may finde goddes foyson, there, Of the remenant nedeth nat enquere.’ What sholde I more seyn, but this Millere He nolde his wordes for no man forbere, But tolde his cherles tale in his manere; Me thinketh that I shal reherce it here. And ther-fore every gentil wight I preye, For goddes love, demeth nat that I seye Of evel entente, but that I moot reherce Hir tales alle, be they bettre or werse, Or elles falsen som of my matere. And therfore, who-so list it nat y-here, Turne over the leef, and chese another tale; For he shal finde y-nowe, grete and smale, Of storial thing that toucheth gentillesse, And eek moralitee and holinesse; Blameth nat me if that ye chese amis. The Miller is a cherl, ye knowe wel this; So was the Reve, and othere many mo, And harlotrye they tolden bothe two. Avyseth yow and putte me out of blame; And eek men shal nat make ernest of game. Here endeth the prologe.

THE MILLERES TALE. Here biginneth the Millere his tale. Whylom ther was dwellinge at Oxenford A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord, And of his craft he was a Carpenter. With him ther was dwellinge a povre scoler, Had lerned art, but al his fantasye Was turned for to lerne astrologye, And coude a certeyn of conclusiouns To demen by interrogaciouns, If that men axed him in certein houres, Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures, Or if men axed him what sholde bifalle Of every thing, I may nat rekene hem alle. This clerk was cleped hende Nicholas; Of derne love he coude and of solas; And ther-to he was sleigh and ful privee, And lyk a mayden meke for to see. A chambre hadde he in that hostelrye Allone, with-outen any companye, Ful fetisly y-dight with herbes swote; And he him-self as swete as is the rote Of licorys, or any cetewale. His Almageste and bokes grete and smale, His astrelabie, longinge for his art, His augrim-stones layen faire a-part On shelves couched at his beddes heed: His presse y-covered with a falding reed. And al above ther lay a gay sautrye, On which he made a nightes melodye So swetely, that al the chambre rong; And Angelus ad virginem he song; And after that he song the kinges note; Ful often blessed was his mery throte. And thus this swete clerk his tyme spente After his freendes finding and his rente. This Carpenter had wedded newe a wyf Which that he lovede more than his lyf; Of eightetene yeer she was of age. Ialous he was, and heeld hir narwe in cage, For she was wilde and yong, and he was old And demed him-self ben lyk a cokewold. He knew nat Catoun, for his wit was rude, That bad man sholde wedde his similitude. Men sholde wedden after hir estaat, For youthe and elde is often at debaat. But sith that he was fallen in the snare, He moste endure, as other folk, his care. Fair was this yonge wyf, and ther-with-al As any wesele hir body gent and smal. A ceynt she werede barred al of silk, A barmclooth eek as whyt as morne milk Up-on hir lendes, ful of many a gore. Whyt was hir smok, and brouded al bifore And eek bihinde, on hir coler aboute, Of col-blak silk, with-inne and eek with-oute. The tapes of hir whyte voluper Were of the same suyte of hir coler; Hir filet brood of silk, and set ful hye: And sikerly she hadde a likerous yë. Ful smale y-pulled were hir browes two, And tho were bent, and blake as any sloo. She was ful more blisful on to see Than is the newe pere-ionette tree; And softer than the wolle is of a wether. And by hir girdel heeng a purs of lether Tasseld with silk, and perled with latoun. In al this world, to seken up and doun, There nis no man so wys, that coude thenche So gay a popelote, or swich a wenche. Ful brighter was the shyning of hir hewe Than in the tour the noble y-forged newe. But of hir song, it was as loude and yerne As any swalwe sittinge on a berne. Ther-to she coude skippe and make game, As any kide or calf folwinge his dame. Hir mouth was swete as bragot or the meeth, Or hord of apples leyd in hey or heeth. Winsinge she was, as is a Ioly colt, Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt. A brooch she baar up-on hir lowe coler, As brood as is the bos of a bocler. Hir shoes were laced on hir legges hye; She was a prymerole, a pigges-nye For any lord to leggen in his bedde, Or yet for any good yeman to wedde. Now sire, and eft sire, so bifel the cas, That on a day this hende Nicholas Fil with this yonge wyf to rage and pleye, Whyl that hir housbond was at Oseneye, As clerkes ben ful subtile and ful queynte; And prively he caughte hir by the queynte, And seyde, ‘y-wis, but if ich have my wille, For derne love of thee, lemman, I spille.’ And heeld hir harde by the haunche-bones, And seyde, ‘lemman, love me al at-ones, Or I wol dyen, also god me save!’ And she sprong as a colt doth in the trave, And with hir heed she wryed faste awey, And seyde, ‘I wol nat kisse thee, by my fey, Why, lat be,’ quod she, ‘lat be, Nicholas, Or I wol crye out “harrow” and “allas.” Do wey your handes for your curteisye!’ This Nicholas gan mercy for to crye, And spak so faire, and profred hir so faste, That she hir love him graunted atte laste, And swoor hir ooth, by seint Thomas of Kent, That she wol been at his comandement, Whan that she may hir leyser wel espye. ‘Myn housbond is so ful of Ialousye, That but ye wayte wel and been privee, I woot right wel I nam but deed,’ quod she. ‘Ye moste been ful derne, as in this cas.’ ‘Nay ther-of care thee noght,’ quod Nicholas, ‘A clerk had litherly biset his whyle, But-if he coude a Carpenter bigyle.’ And thus they been acorded and y-sworn To wayte a tyme, as I have told biforn. Whan Nicholas had doon thus everydeel, And thakked hir aboute the lendes weel, He kist hir swete, and taketh his sautrye, And pleyeth faste, and maketh melodye. Than fil it thus, that to the parish-chirche, Cristes owne werkes for to wirche, This gode wyf wente on an haliday; Hir forheed shoon as bright as any day, So was it wasshen whan she leet hir werk. Now was ther of that chirche a parish-clerk, The which that was y-cleped Absolon. Crul was his heer, and as the gold it shoon, And strouted as a fanne large and brode; Ful streight and even lay his Ioly shode. His rode was reed, his eyen greye as goos; With Powles window corven on his shoos, In hoses rede he wente fetisly. Y-clad he was ful smal and proprely, Al in a kirtel of a light wachet; Ful faire and thikke been the poyntes set. And ther-up-on he hadde a gay surplys As whyt as is the blosme up-on the rys. A mery child he was, so god me save, Wel coude he laten blood and clippe and shave, And make a chartre of lond or acquitaunce. In twenty manere coude he trippe and daunce After the scole of Oxenforde tho, And with his legges casten to and fro, And pleyen songes on a small rubible; Ther-to he song som-tyme a loud quinible; And as wel coude he pleye on his giterne. In al the toun nas brewhous ne taverne That he ne visited with his solas, Ther any gaylard tappestere was. But sooth to seyn, he was somdel squaymous Of farting, and of speche daungerous. This Absolon, that Iolif was and gay, Gooth with a sencer on the haliday, Sensinge the wyves of the parish faste; And many a lovely look on hem he caste, And namely on this carpenteres wyf. To loke on hir him thoughte a mery lyf, She was so propre and swete and likerous. I dar wel seyn, if she had been a mous, And he a cat, he wolde hir hente anon. This parish-clerk, this Ioly Absolon, Hath in his herte swich a love-longinge, That of no wyf ne took he noon offringe; For curteisye, he seyde, he wolde noon. The mone, whan it was night, ful brighte shoon, And Absolon his giterne hath y-take, For paramours, he thoghte for to wake. And forth he gooth, Iolif and amorous, Til he cam to the carpenteres hous A litel after cokkes hadde y-crowe; And dressed him up by a shot-windowe That was up-on the carpenteres wal. He singeth in his vois gentil and smal, ‘Now, dere lady, if thy wille be, I preye yow that ye wol rewe on me,’ Ful wel acordaunt to his giterninge. This carpenter awook, and herde him singe, And spak un-to his wyf, and seyde anon, ‘What! Alison! herestow nat Absolon That chaunteth thus under our boures wal?’ And she answerde hir housbond ther-with-al, ‘Yis, god wot, Iohn, I here it every-del.’ This passeth forth; what wol ye bet than wel? Fro day to day this Ioly Absolon So woweth hir, that him is wo bigon. He waketh al the night and al the day; He kempte hise lokkes brode, and made him gay; He woweth hir by menes and brocage, And swoor he wolde been hir owne page; He singeth, brokkinge as a nightingale; He sente hir piment, meeth, and spyced ale, And wafres, pyping hote out of the glede; And for she was of toune, he profred mede. For som folk wol ben wonnen for richesse, And som for strokes, and som for gentillesse. Somtyme, to shewe his lightnesse and maistrye, He pleyeth Herodes on a scaffold hye. But what availleth him as in this cas? She loveth so this hende Nicholas, That Absolon may blowe the bukkes horn; He ne hadde for his labour but a scorn; And thus she maketh Absolon hir ape, And al his ernest turneth til a Iape. Ful sooth is this proverbe, it is no lye, Men seyn right thus, ‘alwey the nye slye Maketh the ferre leve to be looth.’ For though that Absolon be wood or wrooth, By-cause that he fer was from hir sighte, This nye Nicholas stood in his lighte. Now bere thee wel, thou hende Nicholas! For Absolon may waille and singe ‘allas.’ And so bifel it on a Saterday, This carpenter was goon til Osenay; And hende Nicholas and Alisoun Acorded been to this conclusioun, That Nicholas shal shapen him a wyle This sely Ialous housbond to bigyle; And if so be the game wente aright, She sholde slepen in his arm al night, For this was his desyr and hir also. And right anon, with-outen wordes mo, This Nicholas no lenger wolde tarie, But doth ful softe un-to his chambre carie Bothe mete and drinke for a day or tweye, And to hir housbonde bad hir for to seye, If that he axed after Nicholas, She sholde seye she niste where he was, Of al that day she saugh him nat with yë; She trowed that he was in maladye, For, for no cry, hir mayde coude him calle; He nolde answere, for no-thing that mighte falle. This passeth forth al thilke Saterday, That Nicholas stille in his chambre lay, And eet and sleep, or dide what him leste, Til Sonday, that the sonne gooth to reste. This sely carpenter hath greet merveyle Of Nicholas, or what thing mighte him eyle, And seyde, ‘I am adrad, by seint Thomas, It stondeth nat aright with Nicholas. God shilde that he deyde sodeynly! This world is now ful tikel, sikerly; I saugh to-day a cors y-born to chirche That now, on Monday last, I saugh him wirche. Go up,’ quod he un-to his knave anoon, ‘Clepe at his dore, or knokke with a stoon, Loke how it is, and tel me boldely.’ This knave gooth him up ful sturdily, And at the chambre-dore, whyl that he stood, He cryde and knokked as that he were wood:— ‘What! how! what do ye, maister Nicholay? How may ye slepen al the longe day?’ But al for noght, he herde nat a word; An hole he fond, ful lowe up-on a bord, Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe; And at that hole he looked in ful depe, And at the laste he hadde of him a sighte. This Nicholas sat gaping ever up-righte, As he had kyked on the newe mone. Adoun he gooth, and tolde his maister sone In what array he saugh this ilke man. This carpenter to blessen him bigan, And seyde, ‘help us, seinte Frideswyde! A man woot litel what him shal bityde. This man is falle, with his astromye, In som woodnesse or in som agonye; I thoghte ay wel how that it sholde be! Men sholde nat knowe of goddes privetee. Ye, blessed be alwey a lewed man, That noght but oonly his bileve can! So ferde another clerk with astromye; He walked in the feeldes for to prye Up-on the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle, Til he was in a marle-pit y-falle; He saugh nat that. But yet, by seint Thomas, Me reweth sore of hende Nicholas. He shal be rated of his studying, If that I may, by Iesus, hevene king! Get me a staf, that I may underspore, Whyl that thou, Robin, hevest up the dore. He shal out of his studying, as I gesse’— And to the chambre-dore he gan him dresse. His knave was a strong carl for the nones, And by the haspe he haf it up atones; In-to the floor the dore fil anon. This Nicholas sat ay as stille as stoon, And ever gaped upward in-to the eir. This carpenter wende he were in despeir, And hente him by the sholdres mightily, And shook him harde, and cryde spitously, ‘What! Nicholay! what, how! what! loke adoun! Awake, and thenk on Cristes passioun; I crouche thee from elves and fro wightes!’ Ther-with the night-spel seyde he anon-rightes On foure halves of the hous aboute, And on the threshfold of the dore with-oute:— ‘Iesu Crist, and seynt Benedight, Blesse this hous from every wikked wight, For nightes verye, the white pater-noster ! Where wentestow, seynt Petres soster?’ And atte laste this hende Nicholas Gan for to syke sore, and seyde, ‘allas! Shal al the world be lost eftsones now?’ This carpenter answerde, ‘what seystow? What! thenk on god, as we don, men that swinke.’ This Nicholas answerde, ‘fecche me drinke; And after wol I speke in privetee Of certeyn thing that toucheth me and thee; I wol telle it non other man, certeyn.’ This carpenter goth doun, and comth ageyn, And broghte of mighty ale a large quart; And whan that ech of hem had dronke his part, This Nicholas his dore faste shette, And doun the carpenter by him he sette. He seyde, ‘Iohn, myn hoste lief and dere, Thou shall up-on thy trouthe swere me here, That to no wight thou shalt this conseil wreye; For it is Cristes conseil that I seye, And if thou telle it man, thou are forlore; For this vengaunce thou shalt han therfore, That if thou wreye me, thou shalt be wood!’ ‘Nay, Crist forbede it, for his holy blood!’ Quod tho this sely man, ‘I nam no labbe, Ne, though I seye, I nam nat lief to gabbe. Sey what thou wolt, I shal it never telle To child ne wyf, by him that harwed helle!’ ‘Now John,’ quod Nicholas, ‘I wol nat lye; I have y-founde in myn astrologye, As I have loked in the mone bright, That now, a Monday next, at quarter-night, Shal falle a reyn and that so wilde and wood, That half so greet was never Noës flood. This world,’ he seyde, ‘in lasse than in an hour Shal al be dreynt, so hidous is the shour; Thus shal mankynde drenche and lese hir lyf.’ This carpenter answerde, ‘allas, my wyf! And shal she drenche? allas! myn Alisoun!’ For sorwe of this he fil almost adoun, And seyde, ‘is ther no remedie in this cas?’ ‘Why, yis, for gode,’ quod hende Nicholas, ‘If thou wolt werken after lore and reed; Thou mayst nat werken after thyn owene heed. For thus seith Salomon, that was ful trewe, “Werk al by conseil, and thou shalt nat rewe.” And if thou werken wolt by good conseil, I undertake, with-outen mast and seyl, Yet shal I saven hir and thee and me Hastow nat herd how saved was Noë, Whan that our lord had warned him biforn That al the world with water sholde be lorn?’ ‘Yis,’ quod this carpenter, ‘ful yore ago.’ ‘Hastow nat herd,’ quod Nicholas, ‘also The sorwe of Noë with his felawshipe, Er that he mighte gete his wyf to shipe? Him had be lever, I dar wel undertake, At thilke tyme, than alle hise wetheres blake, That she hadde had a ship hir-self allone. And ther-fore, wostou what is best to done? This asketh haste, and of an hastif thing Men may nat preche or maken tarying. Anon go gete us faste in-to this in A kneding-trogh, or elles a kimelin, For ech of us, but loke that they be large, In whiche we mowe swimme as in a barge, And han ther-inne vitaille suffisant But for a day; fy on the remenant! The water shal aslake and goon away Aboute pryme up-on the nexte day. But Robin may nat wite of this, thy knave, Ne eek thy mayde Gille I may nat save; Axe nat why, for though thou aske me, I wol nat tellen goddes privetee. Suffiseth thee, but if thy wittes madde, To han as greet a grace as Noë hadde. Thy wyf shal I wel saven, out of doute, Go now thy wey, and speed thee heer-aboute. But whan thou hast, for hir and thee and me, Y-geten us thise kneding-tubbes three, Than shaltow hange hem in the roof ful hye, That no man of our purveyaunce spye. And whan thou thus hast doon as I have seyd, And hast our vitaille faire in hem y-leyd, And eek an ax, to smyte the corde atwo When that the water comth, that we may go, And broke an hole an heigh, up-on the gable, Unto the gardin-ward, over the stable, That we may frely passen forth our way Whan that the grete shour is goon away— Than shaltow swimme as myrie, I undertake, As doth the whyte doke after hir drake. Than wol I clepe, “how! Alison! how! John! Be myrie, for the flood wol passe anon.” And thou wolt seyn, “hayl, maister Nicholay! Good morwe, I se thee wel, for it is day.” And than shul we be lordes al our lyf Of al the world, as Noë and his wyf. But of o thyng I warne thee ful right, Be wel avysed, on that ilke night That we ben entred in-to shippes bord, That noon of us ne speke nat a word, Ne clepe, ne crye, but been in his preyere; For it is goddes owne heste dere. Thy wyf and thou mote hange fer a-twinne, For that bitwixe yow shal be no sinne No more in looking than ther shal in dede; This ordinance is seyd, go, god thee spede! Tomorwe at night, whan men ben alle aslepe, In-to our kneding-tubbes wol we crepe, And sitten ther, abyding goddes grace. Go now thy wey, I have no lenger space To make of this no lenger sermoning. Men seyn thus, “send the wyse, and sey no-thing;” Thou art so wys, it nedeth thee nat teche; Go, save our lyf, and that I thee biseche.’ This sely carpenter goth forth his wey. Ful ofte he seith ‘allas’ and ‘weylawey,’ And to his wyf he tolde his privetee; And she was war, and knew it bet than he, What al this queynte cast was for to seye. But nathelees she ferde as she wolde deye, And seyde, ‘allas! go forth thy wey anon, Help us to scape, or we ben lost echon; I am thy trewe verray wedded wyf; Go, dere spouse, and help to save our lyf.’ Lo! which a greet thyng is affeccioun! Men may dye of imaginacioun, So depe may impressioun be take. This sely carpenter biginneth quake; Him thinketh verraily that he may see Noës flood come walwing as the see To drenchen Alisoun, his hony dere. He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory chere, He syketh with ful many a sory swogh. He gooth and geteth him a kneding-trogh, And after that a tubbe and a kimelin, And prively he sente hem to his in, And heng hem in the roof in privetee. His owne hand he made laddres three, To climben by the ronges and the stalkes Un-to the tubbes hanginge in the balkes, And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe, With breed and chese, and good ale in a Iubbe, Suffysinge right y-nogh as for a day. But er that he had maad al this array, He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also, Up-on his nede to London for to go. And on the Monday, whan it drow to night, He shette his dore with-oute candel-light, And dressed al thing as it sholde be. And shortly, up they clomben alle three; They sitten stille wel a furlong-way. ‘Now, Pater-noster , clom!’ seyde Nicholay, And ‘clom,’ quod John, and ‘clom,’ seyde Alisoun. This carpenter seyde his devocioun, And stille he sit, and biddeth his preyere, Awaytinge on the reyn, if he it here. The dede sleep, for wery bisinesse, Fil on this carpenter right, as I gesse, Aboute corfew-tyme, or litel more; For travail of his goost he groneth sore, And eft he routeth, for his heed mislay. Doun of the laddre stalketh Nicholay, And Alisoun, ful softe adoun she spedde; With-outen wordes mo, they goon to bedde Ther-as the carpenter is wont to lye. Ther was the revel and the melodye; And thus lyth Alison and Nicholas, In bisinesse of mirthe and of solas, Til that the belle of laudes gan to ringe, And freres in the chauncel gonne singe. This parish-clerk, this amorous Absolon, That is for love alwey so wo bigon, Up-on the Monday was at Oseneye With companye, him to disporte and pleye, And axed up-on cas a cloisterer Ful prively after Iohn the carpenter; And he drough him a-part out of the chirche, And seyde, ‘I noot, I saugh him here nat wirche Sin Saterday; I trow that he be went For timber, ther our abbot hath him sent; For he is wont for timber for to go, And dwellen at the grange a day or two; Or elles he is at his hous, certeyn; Wher that he be, I can nat sothly seyn.’ This Absolon ful Ioly was and light, And thoghte, ‘now is tyme wake al night; For sikirly I saugh him nat stiringe Aboute his dore sin day bigan to springe. So moot I thryve, I shal, at cokkes crowe, Ful prively knokken at his windowe That stant ful lowe up-on his boures wal. To Alison now wol I tellen al My love-longing, for yet I shal nat misse That at the leste wey I shal hir kisse. Som maner confort shal I have, parfay, My mouth hath icched al this longe day; That is a signe of kissing atte leste. Al night me mette eek, I was at a feste. Therfor I wol gon slepe an houre or tweye, And al the night than wol I wake and pleye.’ Whan that the firste cok hath crowe, anon Up rist this Ioly lover Absolon, And him arrayeth gay, at point-devys. But first he cheweth greyn and lycorys, To smellen swete, er he had kembd his heer. Under his tonge a trewe love he beer, For ther-by wende he to ben gracious. He rometh to the carpenteres hous, And stille he stant under the shot-windowe; Un-to his brest it raughte, it was so lowe; And softe he cogheth with a semi-soun— ‘What do ye, hony-comb, swete Alisoun? My faire brid, my swete cinamome, Awaketh, lemman myn, and speketh to me! Wel litel thenken ye up-on my wo, That for your love I swete ther I go. No wonder is thogh that I swelte and swete; I moorne as doth a lamb after the tete. Y-wis, lemman, I have swich love-longinge, That lyk a turtel trewe is my moorninge; I may nat ete na more than a mayde.’ ‘Go fro the window, Iakke fool,’ she sayde, ‘As help me god, it wol nat be “com ba me,” I love another, and elles I were to blame, Wel bet than thee, by Iesu, Absolon! Go forth thy wey, or I wol caste a ston, And lat me slepe, a twenty devel wey!’ ‘Allas,’ quod Absolon, ‘and weylawey! That trewe love was ever so yvel biset! Than kisse me, sin it may be no bet, For Iesus love and for the love of me.' ‘Wiltow than go thy wey ther-with?’ quod she. ‘Ye, certes, lemman,’ quod this Absolon. ‘Thanne make thee redy,’ quod she, ‘I come anon;’ And un-to Nicholas she seyde stille, ‘Now hust, and thou shall laughen al thy fille.’ This Absolon doun sette him on his knees, And seyde, ‘I am a lord at alle degrees; For after this I hope ther cometh more! Lemman, thy grace, and swete brid, thyn ore!’ The window she undoth, and that in haste, ‘Have do,’ quod she, ‘com of, and speed thee faste, Lest that our neighebores thee espye.’ This Absolon gan wype his mouth ful drye; Derk was the night as pich, or as the cole, And at the window out she putte hir hole, And Absolon, him fil no bet ne wers, But with his mouth he kiste hir naked ers Ful savourly, er he was war of this. Abak he sterte, and thoghte it was amis, For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd; He felte a thing al rough and long y-herd, And seyde, ‘fy! allas! what have I do?’ ‘Tehee!’ quod she, and clapte the window to; And Absolon goth forth a sory pas. ‘A berd, a berd!’ quod hende Nicholas, ‘By goddes corpus , this goth faire and weel!’ This sely Absolon herde every deel, And on his lippe he gan for anger byte; And to him-self he seyde, ‘I shal thee quyte!’ Who rubbeth now, who froteth now his lippes With dust, with sond, with straw, with clooth, with chippes, But Absolon, that seith ful ofte, ‘allas! My soule bitake I un-to Sathanas, But me wer lever than al this toun,’ quod he, ‘Of this despyt awroken for to be! Allas!’ quod he, ‘allas! I ne hadde y-bleynt!’ His hote love was cold and al y-queynt; For fro that tyme that he had kiste hir ers, Of paramours he sette nat a kers, For he was heled of his maladye; Ful ofte paramours he gan deffye, And weep as dooth a child that is y-bete. A softe paas he wente over the strete Un-til a smith men cleped daun Gerveys, That in his forge smithed plough-harneys; He sharpeth shaar and culter bisily. This Absolon knokketh al esily, And seyde, ‘undo, Gerveys, and that anon.’ ‘What, who artow?’ ‘It am I, Absolon.’ ‘What, Absolon! for Cristes swete tree, Why ryse ye so rathe, ey, benedicite! What eyleth yow? som gay gerl, god it woot, Hath broght yow thus up-on the viritoot; By sëynt Note, ye woot wel what I mene.’ This Absolon ne roghte nat a bene Of al his pley, no word agayn he yaf; He hadde more tow on his distaf Than Gerveys knew, and seyde, ‘freend so dere, That hote culter in the chimenee here, As lene it me, I have ther-with to done, And I wol bringe it thee agayn ful sone.’ Gerveys answerde, ‘certes, were it gold, Or in a poke nobles alle untold, Thou sholdest have, as I am trewe smith; Ey, Cristes foo! what wol ye do ther-with?’ ‘Ther-of,’ quod Absolon, ‘be as be may; I shal wel telle it thee to-morwe day’— And caughte the culter by the colde stele. Ful softe out at the dore he gan to stele, And wente un-to the carpenteres wal. He cogheth first, and knokketh ther-with-al Upon the windowe, right as he dide er. This Alison answerde, ‘Who is ther That knokketh so? I warante it a theef.’ ‘Why, nay,’ quod he, ‘god woot, my swete leef, I am thyn Absolon, my dereling! Of gold,’ quod he, ‘I have thee broght a ring; My moder yaf it me, so god me save, Ful fyn it is, and ther-to wel y-grave; This wol I yeve thee, if thou me kisse!’ This Nicholas was risen for to pisse, And thoghte he wolde amenden al the Iape, He sholde kisse his ers er that he scape. And up the windowe dide he hastily, And out his ers he putteth prively Over the buttok, to the haunche-bon; And ther-with spak this clerk, this Absolon, ‘Spek, swete brid, I noot nat wher thou art.’ This Nicholas anon leet flee a fart, As greet as it had been a thonder-dent, That with the strook he was almost y-blent; And he was redy with his iren hoot, And Nicholas amidde the ers he smoot. Of gooth the skin an hande-brede aboute, The hole culter brende so his toute, And for the smert he wende for to dye. As he were wood, for wo he gan to crye— Help! water! water! help, for goddes herte!’ This carpenter out of his slomber sterte, And herde oon cryen ‘water’ as he were wood, And thoghte, ‘Allas! now comth Nowelis flood!’ He sit him up with-outen wordes mo, And with his ax he smoot the corde a-two, And doun goth al; he fond neither to selle, Ne breed ne ale, til he cam to the celle Up-on the floor; and ther aswowne he lay. Up sterte hir Alison, and Nicholay, And cryden ‘out’ and ‘harrow’ in the strete. The neighebores, bothe smale and grete, In ronnen, for to gauren on this man, That yet aswowne he lay, bothe pale and wan; For with the fal he brosten hadde his arm; But stonde he moste un-to his owne harm. For whan he spak, he was anon bore doun With hende Nicholas and Alisoun. They tolden every man that he was wood, He was agast so of ‘Nowelis flood’ Thurgh fantasye, that of his vanitee He hadde y-boght him kneding-tubbes three, And hadde hem hanged in the roof above; And that he preyed hem, for goddes love, To sitten in the roof, par companye . The folk gan laughen at his fantasye; In-to the roof they kyken and they gape, And turned al his harm un-to a Iape. For what so that this carpenter answerde, It was for noght, no man his reson herde; With othes grete he was so sworn adoun, That he was holden wood in al the toun; For every clerk anon-right heeld with other. They seyde, ‘the man is wood, my leve brother;’ And every wight gan laughen of this stryf. Thus swyved was the carpenteres wyf, For al his keping and his Ialousye; And Absolon hath kist hir nether yë; And Nicholas is scalded in the toute. This tale is doon, and god save al the route! Here endeth the Millere his tale.

The Miller's Tale is the second of the tales told among the company of pilgrims on their way to Canterbury. It immediately follows The Knight's Tale, a traditional chivalric romance set in Classical Greece. The Miller's Tale, by contrast, is a fabliau , a poetic genre recounting sexually explicit, satirical narratives. It is very much an inversion of the high style of the preceding tale, and sets the tone for the juxtaposition of style and genre that characterizes the whole of The Canterbury Tales.

Walter William Skeat (1835–1912) was one of the most prolific and learned philologists of his time. While he was most famous for his Etymological Dictionary of the English Language, his edition of The Canterbury Tales was an academic standard until the publication of Larry Benson's The Riverside Chaucer.

Members of the nobility. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Literally, 'the bag is unbuckled.' Figuratively, 'the game has now properly begun.'

A semantically loaded word, simultaneously meaning 'pay for,' 'take revenge on,' or 'reward,' depending on the context. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Uneasily. That is to say, the Miller is so drunk that he is having trouble sitting on his horse. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Pontius Pilate, the Roman official who condemned Christ to be crucified. In medieval mystery plays, actors playing Pontius Pilate would speak in a booming, commanding voice.

The 'armes' here are the arma Christi, or the weapons with which Christ was wounded during the Passion. To swear by the arms, as well as Christ's blood and bones, was seen as a particularly vulgar curse in the Middle Ages.

'For this occasion.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'I know it by my sound.' That is to say, the Miller can tell that he is drunk by the quality of his speech. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Set the carpenter's cap,' i.e., performed a trick on him. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

To harm a person's reputation. Here the Reve is arguing that it is sinful to tell debaucherous stories of people doing evil things. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'To bring wives into such [ill] fame.' The Miller's transgression is especially egregious because he is bringing into question the reputation of wives and, by proxy, the institution of marriage.

Dear. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'He who has no wife cannot be made into a cuckold.' That is to say, your wife can never cheat on you if you never get married in the first place.

The Miller chooses to believe he is not a cuckold, not because he implicitly trusts his wife, but because doing so would bring him more trouble than he thinks it is worth.

'A husband must not be inquisitive / About God's secrets or those of his wife.' That is to say, it is wise for a husband never to pry after his wife's secrets, lest he discover something he would rather not know.

God's plenty. That is to say, if a husband is emotionally and sexually satisfied in his marriage, he does not need to inquire any deeper into his wife's activities.

Here Chaucer apologizes to the reader for the bawdy content of the upcoming tale, and, in an especially metatextual moment, reminds the reader that, if they are squeamish, they can simply turn the page to another, more respectable tale.

The piece of parchment on which the text is written.

Historically true; truthful; drawn from Scripture. This portion of Chaucer's apology is tongue-in-cheek, since none but two of the tales (the Monk's and the Parson's) can be described in this way.

Nobility; kindness; gentleness. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

The city of Oxford, home to the University of Oxford.

An ill-mannered churl. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'That boarded guests.' That is to say, he rents a room in his house.

Scholar. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

One of the seven fields of university study: grammar, rhetoric, logic (the trivium), and arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music (the quadrivium).

Inclination or desire. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

While not in the trivium or quadrivium, astrology was seen as a legitimate field of inquiry in the Middle Ages—though not, it should be noted, for the purposes of prophecy or fortune-telling.

'Ascertain conclusions.' That is to say, Nicholas is claiming he can use astrology to see into the future.

'Drought or [rain] showers.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Called; named. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Secret. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Know about; understand. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Joy; pleasure. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Sly and very secretive.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Very artfully decorated with sweet herbs.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Root. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Licorice or zedoary,' two sweet-smelling herbs.

The Almagest is a classical textbook of astronomy written by Ptolemy, and was one of the standard astronomical treatises of the Middle Ages.

An astrolabe is a versatile tool for determining the position and movements of celestial bodies. Chaucer himself wrote a treatise on its use.

'Algorithm-stones,' or stones marked with numbers and tables to assist with calculation.

'A red cloak.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

A Psalter, or a manuscript containing the Book of Psalms. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

The angelus is a Christian prayer to the Virgin Mary that makes special reference to the archangel Gabriel's visitiation to Mary at the Annunciation.

There are two interpretations of the phrase 'Kinges Noot.' It either refers generally to a song about kings (e.g., a romance), or to a particular song called the 'King's Note.'

'Living on his friends' support and his income.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Jealous. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'In a narrow cage.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Cato the Elder was a Roman statesman and historian.

'Estaat' typically refers to one's social class. Here, however, it refers to one's age. That is, the Miller is citing Cato's proverb that individuals of similar ages should marry.

Weasel. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

A belt. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

An apron. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Loins. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

A skirt. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Embroidered all in the front.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'The ribbons of her white cap.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Headband. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

A lascivious eye. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Her two brows were plucked very thin.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Black as any sloe.' A sloe is the fruit of the blackthorn bush. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

An early-ripening pear tree. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'And softer than the wool is of a sheep.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Latoun' is latten, an alloy of copper, tin, and other minerals. On Alisoun's purse, the latten is fashioned in the shape of pearls. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'So lovely a darling, or such a wench.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Hue; complexion. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Than the new-forged noble in the tower.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Lively. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'As any swallow sitting on a barn.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Bragget or mead.' Bragget is a beverage made of ale and honey. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Skittish. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'As broad as is the ornament on a buckler.' A buckler is a small shield. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'She was a primrose, a pig's eye.' The pig's eye, known today as a pigsney or a cuckoo flower, is a delicate white flower.

Clever. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Flirt and play.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Osney is a community just to the West of Oxford.

Clever. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'And in secret he seized her by the genitals.' 'Queynte' is cognate with the modern English expletive for a vagina. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'I die.' That is to say, if he doesn't have her love, he will die.

'In the enclosure.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Proffered [himself] to her so earnestly.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

St. Thomas of Canterbury, also known as St. Thomas à Becket, was a twelfth-century English bishop who was murdered on the order of King Henry II.

'When she can best espie her opportunity.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'I right well know I am dead.' That is to say, Alisoun believes John will kill her if he finds out about her adultery.

'A clerk has badly used his time / If he could not beguile a carpenter.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Patted her about the loins.' That is to say, after he touched her intimately.

'Curly was his hair, and it shone like gold.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'It [his hair] stretched out like a large, wide fan.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'The handsome parting of his hair.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'His face was red, his eyes gray as a goose.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

St. Paul's Cathedral in London was famous for its rose-windows, for which was named a form of leather working in the production of shoes.

'All in a blue tunic.' Blue was a very expensive dye in this period. That Absolon wears it simultaneously marks his wealth and his preoccupation with material goods.

Stitches. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

A surplice, i.e., a liturgical garment. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Well could he let blood and give haircuts and shave.' In addition to his other responsiblities, Absolon also serves as a local doctor and barber.

'Make a charter of land or acquittance.' That is to say, as a parish clerk, Absolon serves as a local scribe, especially for legal writs.

A kind of fiddle or lute. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Falsetto. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Guitar. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Gaily-dressed barmaid.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Squeamish. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Difficult; critical. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

A censer, i.e. a tool used in the Mass for burning incense. It could be carried and swung, and incense would thus be cast on parishioners during Mass. Here Chaucer is charging this act with a sexual undertone.

'He would have grabbed her right away.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Casement-window,' i.e. a window attached to its frame by hinges. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Have pity on me.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Guitar-playing. Literally, 'guitar-ing.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'The wall of our bedroom.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'What more would you have?' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Intermediaries and go-betweens.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'And because she was from the town, he offered her money.' That is to say, Absolon tries to pay Alisoun to have sex with him.

That is to say, Absolon unsuccessfully tries to impress Alisoun by playing the role of Herod in the local Church play.

Fool. Source: Middle English Dictionary

Joke. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Literally, 'The nearby sly one always makes the distant beloved hated.' That is to say, when one's beloved is away, one is easily wooed by someone crafty and nearby.

'Devise a trick.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Literally, 'this world is now very ticklish.' That is to say, there are many strange things happening. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'As if he had gazed upon the new moon.'

St. Frideswide was an eight-century English princess and abbess who founded a priory in the city of Oxford. She is frequently invoked as the patroness of the city and University of Oxford.

Madness. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Uneducated; ignorant. Souce: Middle English Dictionary

A fertilzer pit. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Scolded.' That is to say, John intends to warn Nicholas that studying astrology has brought him into contact with demons.

That is, pry the door open from below. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'A man, usually of low estate.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Piteously; pitifully.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'I bless you against elves and evil creatures.'

'Night-charm.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Scholars are uncertain about the reference Chaucer is making here. There are no references in surviving late antique or medieval sources to Saint Peter having a sister.

'Work'. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

An individual's 'trouthe' (cognate to the modern term 'truth') refers to one innate sense of dignity and honesty. It was, and occasionally still is, used in wedding vows (e.g., 'I plight thee my troth.')

'Blabbermouth'. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

In his scheme to have sex with Alisoun, Nicholas is trying to convince John that God has revealed to him that the world will soon be flooded and the human race destroyed, as it was in Genesis 6–9. Nicholas' ploy here is especially ironic given that the Genesis narrative ends with God promising never to flood the earth again.

'Learning and counsel.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

King Solomon, the son of King David and the third king of Israel. Solomon is the purported author of the Book of Proverbs in the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Old Testament, known principally known for his wisdom.

According to a popular apocryphal medieval legend, Noah's wife was hesitant to board the ark, preferring instead to gossip with the other wives in her village.

A kneading trough was a large hollow table used to knead large quantities of dough en masse. A 'kimelin' refers to a vat used for brewing beer. These are meant to be humorous reversals of Noah's Ark.

'Food'; cognate to the modern term 'victuals.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Absolon has instructed John to tie bathtubs onto his roof, to store food and drink in them, and to cut the rope holding them when the 'flood' begins.

Far apart. Absolon wants to make sure that John doesn't hear him and Alisoun leave their tubs to have sex.

The beams of the roof. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Saint Benedict of Nursia (ca. 480–547) is an early Christian saint who founded the monastic order known as the Benedictines. He is widely venerated as one of the fathers of Western monasticism.

The Pater Noster is the Our Father, one of the most fundamental Christian prayers.

'For suffering of his spirit.' Chaucer is engaging in a bit of wordplay here, as 'travail' can also refer to the physical labor involved with preparing for the 'flood.'

'To snore.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Lauds' is the second canonical hour in church time, occuring around 6:00 AM. The bells of the local parish church would ring at this hour to signal the beginning of the day.

'In every detail.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'I mourn as a lamb does for the teat.' 'Tete' here is a double entendre, inflected by Absolon's sexual interest in Alisoun. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'In the name of twenty devils!' A curse. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'The night was dark as pitch or coal.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Anus.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Ass.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.'

'For well he knew that no woman had a beard.' This is to say, Absolon can tell something is amiss because he can feel Alisoun's pubic hair.

Latin, meaning 'body.' Nicholas is swearing upon God's body, i.e., the Eucharist.

'I entrust my soul to Saton if I would not rather see all this town avenged after this insult.' Absolon's phrasing here is extremely convoluted, reflecting his furious and irrational state.

'He did not consider sexual encounters to be worth a watercress.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'He sharpens ploughshares and plough-blades busily.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Early.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Latin, meaning 'bless me!'

This is the only recorded instance of the word 'viritoot' in the English language. There is no consensus among scholars about what the word means, though most translate it as some form of 'upon the move.'

St. Neot (d. 877) was an English monk at Glastonbury Abbey. He is a patron of fish and fisherman.

'Hot plough-blade.' Absolon intends to attack Alisoun with a red-hot piece of metal.

'He secretly put out his ass.' Nicholas is hoping to trick Absolon in the same manner as Alisoun. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

This scene is an even bawdier repetition of Absolon's kiss with Alisoun; here Alisoun's calling out to Absolon is replaced with Nicholas farting.

'And he smote Nicholas in the middle of his ass.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Off goes the skin, about the breadth of a hand.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

The flood narrative of the Book of Genesis, chapters 6–9. God floods the earth, sparing only the lives of Noah, his wife, his sons, and his sons' wives, who together repopulate the earth.

'And there in a swoon he lay.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'To gawk.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'He had broken his arm.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

French, 'to keep him company.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Stare' and 'gape.' Source: Middle English Dictionary

'Reson' here can refer either to John's literal reason for having fallen from the roof, or to his sanity. Source: Middle English Dictionary

'The man is mad, my dear brother.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

'Swyved,' here is an expletive referring to sexual intercourse. Chaucer writes the Miller with an explicit lexicon to reinforce the bawdiness of his tale. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Literally, 'lower eye,' i.e., his anus. Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Literally, 'burned on the rear.' Source: Middle English Dictionary.

Company of people, i.e., the pilgrims. Source: Middle English Dictionary.