|
But worshipful chanons religious, |
| 440 | Ne demeth nat that I sclaundre youre hous, |
| Although that my tale of a chanoun bee. |
| Of every ordre som shrewe is, pardee, |
| And God forbede that al a compaignye |
| Sholde rewe o singuleer mannes folye. |
| 445 | To sclaundre yow is no thyng myn entente, |
| But to correcten that is mys I mente. |
| This tale was nat oonly toold for yow |
| But eek for othere mo; ye woot wel how |
| That among Cristes apostelles twelve |
| 450 | Ther nas no traytour but Judas hymselve. |
| Thanne why sholde al the remenant have a blame |
| That giltlees were? By yow I seye the same, |
| Save oonly this, if ye wol herke me: |
| If any Judas in youre covent be, |
| 455 | Remoeveth hym bitymes, I yow rede, |
| If shame or los may causen any drede. |
| And beeth no thyng displesed, I yow preye, |
| But in this cas herkneth what I shal seye. |
| In Londoun was a preest, an annueleer, |
| 460 | That therinne dwelled hadde mayn a yeer, |
| Which was so plesaunt and se servysable |
| Unto the wyf, where as he was at table, |
| That she wolde suffre hym no thyng for to paye |
| For bord ne clothyng, wente he never so gaye; |
| 465 | And spendyng silver hadde he right ynow. |
| Therof no fors; I wol procede as now, |
| And telle forth my tale of the chanoun |
| That broghte this preest to confusioun. |
|
This false chanon cam upon a day |
| 470 | Unto this preestes chambre, wher he lay, |
| Bisechynge hym to lene hym a certeyn |
| Of gold, and he wolde quite it hym ageyn. |
| "Leene me a marc," quod he, "but dayes three, |
| And at my day I wol it quiten thee. |
| 475 | And if so be that thow me fynde fals, |
| Another day do hange me by the hals!" |
| This preest hym took a marc, and that as swithe, |
| And this chanoun hym thanked ofte sithe, |
| And took his leve, and wente forth his weye, |
| 480 | And at the thridde day broghte his moneye, |
| And to the preest he took his gold agayn, |
| Wherof this preest was wonder glad and fayn. |
| "Certes," quod he, "no thyng anoyeth me |
| To lene a man a noble, or two, or thre, |
| 485 | Or what thyng were in my possessioun, |
| Whan he so trewe is of condicioun |
| That in no wise he breke wole his day; |
| To swich a man I kan never seye nay." |
| "What!" quod this chanoun, "sholde I be untrewe? |
| 490 | Nay, that were thyng yfallen al of newe. |
| Trouthe is a thyng that I wol evere kepe |
| Unto that day in which that I shal crepe |
| Into my grave, and ellis God forbede. |
| Bileveth this as siker as your crede. |
| 495 | God thanke I, and in good tyme be it sayd, |
| That ther was nevere man yet yvele apayd |
| For gold ne silver that he to me lente, |
| Ne nevere falshede in myn herte I mente. |
| And sire," quod he, "now of my pryvetee, |
| 500 | Syn ye so goodlich han been unto me, |
| And kithed to me so greet gentillesse, |
| Somwhat to quyte with youre kyndenesse |
| I wol yow shewe, and if yow list to leere, |
| I wol yow teche pleynly the manere |
| 505 | Yow I kan werken in philosophie. |
| Taketh good heede, ye shul wel seen at ye |
| That I wol doon a maistrie er I go." |
| "Ye," quod the preest, "ye, sire, and wol ye so? |
| Marie! Therof I pray yow hertely." |
| 510 | "At youre comandement, sire, trewely," |
| Quod the chanoun, "and ellis God forbeede!" |
| Loo, how this theef koude his service beede! |
| Ful sooth it is that swich profred servyse |
| Stynketh, as witnessen thise olde wyse, |
| 515 | And that, ful soone I wol it verifie |
| In this chanoun, roote of al trecherie, |
| That everemoore delit hath and gladnesse - |
| Swiche feendly thoghtes in his herte impresse - |
| How Cristes peple he may to meschief brynge. |
| 520 | God kepe us from his false dissymulynge! |
| Noght wiste this preest with whom that he delte, |
| Ne of his harm comynge he no thyng felte. |
| O sely preest! O sely innocent! |
| With coveitise anon thou shalt be blent! |
| 525 | O gracelees, ful blynd is thy conceite, |
| No thyng ne artow war of the deceite |
| Which that this fox yshapen hath to thee! |
| His wily wrenches thou ne mayst nat flee. |
| Wherfore, to go to the conclusion, |
| 530 | That refereth to thy confusion, |
| Unhappy man, anon I wol me hye |
| To tellen thyn unwit and thy folye, |
| And eek the falsnesse of that oother wrecche, |
| As ferforth as that my konnyng wol strecche. |
| 535 |
This chanon was my lord, ye wolden weene? |
| Sire hoost, in feith, and by the hevenes queene, |
| It was another chanoun, and nat hee, |
| That kan an hundred foold moore subtiltee. |
| He hath bitrayed folkes many tyme; |
| 540 | Of his falsnesse it dulleth me to ryme. |
| Evere whan that I speke of his falshede, |
| For shame of hym my chekes wexen rede. |
| Algates they bigynnen for to glowe, |
| For reednesse have I noon, right wel I knowe, |
| 545 | In my visage; for fumes diverse |
| Of metals, whiche ye han herd me reherce, |
| Consumed and wasted han my reednesse. |
| Now taak heede of this chanons cursednesse! |
| "Sire," quod he to the preest, lat youre man gon |
| 550 | For quyksilver, that we it hadde anon; |
| And lat hym bryngen ounces two or three; |
| And whan he comth, as faste shal ye see |
| A wonder thyng, which ye saugh nevere er this." |
| "Sire," quod the preest, "it shal be doon, ywis." |
| 555 | He bad his servant fecchen hym this thyng, |
| And he al redy was at his biddyng, |
| And wente hym forth, and cam anon agayn |
| With this quyksilver, shortly for to sayn, |
| And took thise ounces thre to the chanoun; |
| 560 | And he hem leyde faire and wel adoun, |
| And bad the servant coles for to brynge, |
| That he anon myghte go to his werkynge. |
| The coles right anon weren yfet, |
| And this chanoun took out a crosselet |
| 565 | Of his bosom, and shewed it to the preest. |
| "This instrument," quod he, "which that thou seest, |
| Taak in thy hand, and put thyself therinne |
| Of this quyksilver an ounce, and heer bigynne, |
| In name of Crist, to wexe a philosofre. |
| 570 | Ther been ful fewe to whiche I wolde profre |
| To shewen hem thus muche of my science. |
| For ye shul seen heer, by experience, |
| That this quyksilver I wol mortifye |
| Right in youre sighte anon, withouten lye, |
| 575 | And make it as good silver and as fyn |
| As ther is any in youre purs or myn, |
| Or elleswhere, and make it malliable; |
| And elles holdeth me fals and unable |
| Amonges folk for evere to appeere. |
| 580 | I have poudre heer, that coste me deere, |
| Shal make al good, for it is cause of al |
| My konnyng, which that I yow shewen shal. |
| Voyde youre man, and lat hym be theroute, |
| And shette the dore, whils we been aboute |
| 585 | Oure pryvetee, that no man us espie, |
| Whils that we werke in this philosophie." |
| Al as he bad fulfilled was in dede. |
| This ilke servant anonright out yede |
| And his maister shette the dore anon, |
| 590 | And to hire labour spedily the gon. |
| This preest, at this cursed chanons biddyng, |
| Upon the fir anon sette this thyng, |
| And blew the fir, and bisyed hym ful faste. |
| And this chanoun into the crosselet caste |
| 595 | A poudre, noot I wherof that it was |
| Ymaad, outher of chalk, outher of glas, |
| Or somwhat elles, was nat worth a flye, |
| To blynde with this preest; and bad hym hye |
| The coles for to couchen al above |
| 600 | The crosselet. "For in tokenyng I thee love," |
| Quod this chanoun, "thyne owene handes two |
| Shul werche al thyng which that shal heer be do." |
| "Graunt mercy," quod the preest, and was ful glad, |
| And couched coles as that the chanoun bad. |
| 605 | And while he bisy was, this feendly wrecche, |
| This false chanoun - the foule feend hym fecche! - |
| Out of his bosom took a bechen cole, |
| In which ful subtilly was maad an hole, |
| And therinne put was of silver lemaille |
| 610 | An ounce, and stopped was, withouten faille, |
| This hole with wex, to kepe the lemaille in. |
| And understondeth that this false gyn |
| Was nat maad ther, but it was maad bifore; |
| And othere thynges I shal tellen moore |
| 615 | Herafterward, whiche that he with hym broghte. |
| Er he cam there, hym to bigile he thoghte, |
| And so he dide, er that they wente atwynne; |
| Til he had terved hym, koude he nat blynne. |
| It dulleth me whan that I of hym speke. |
| 620 | On his falshede fayn wolde I me wreke, |
| If I wiste how, but he is heere and there; |
| He is so variaunt, be abit nowhere. |
| But taketh heed now, sires, for goddes love! |
| He took his cole of which I spak above, |
| 625 | And in his hand he baar it pryvely. |
| And whiles the preest couched bisily |
| The coles, as I tolde yow er this, |
| This chanoun seyde, "Freend, ye doon amys. |
| This is nat couched as it oghte be; |
| 630 | But soone I shal amenden it," quod he. |
| "Now lat me medle therwith but a while, |
| For of yow have I pitee, by Seint Gile! |
| Ye been right hoot; I se wel how ye swete. |
| Have heere a clooth, and wipe awey the wete." |
| 635 | And whiles that the preest wiped his face, |
| This chanoun took his cole - with sory grace! - |
| And leyde it above upon the myddeward |
| Of the crosselet, and blew wel afterward, |
| Til that the coles gonne faste brenne. |
| 640 |
"Now yeve us drynke," quod the chanoun thenne; |
| "As swithe al shal be wel, I undertake. |
| Sitte we doun, and lat us myrie make." |
| And whan that this chanounes bechen cole |
| Was brent, al the lemaille out of the hole |
| 645 | Into the crosselet fil anon adoun; |
| And as it moste nedes, by resoun, |
| Syn it so even aboven it couched was. |
| But therof wiste the preest nothyng, alas! |
| He demed alle the coles yliche good; |
| 650 | For of that sleighte he nothyng understood. |
| And whan this alkamystre saugh his tyme, |
| "Ris up," quod he, "sire preest, and stondeth by me; |
| And for I woot wel ingot have ye noon, |
| Gooth, walketh forth, and brynge us a chalk stoon; |
| 655 | For I wol make it of the same shap |
| That is an ingot, if I may han hap. |
| And bryngeth eek with yow a bolle or a panne |
| Ful of water, and ye shul se wel thanne |
| How that oure bisynesse shal thryve and preeve. |
| 660 | And yet, for ye shul han no mysbileeve |
| Ne wrong conceite of me in youre absence, |
| I ne wol nat been out of youre presence, |
| But go with yow, and come with yow ageyn." |
| The chambre dore, shortly for to seyn, |
| 665 | They opened and shette, and wente hir weye. |
| And forth with hem they carieden the keye, |
| And coome agayn withouten any delay. |
| What sholde I tarien al the longe day? |
| He took the chalk, and shoop it in the wise |
| 670 | Of an ingot, as I shal yow devyse. |
| I seye, he took out of his owene sleeve |
| A teyne of silver - yvele moot he cheeve! - |
| Which that ne was nat but an ounce of weighte. |
| And taaketh heede now of his cursed sleighte! |
| 675 | He shoop his ingot, in lengthe and in breede |
| Of this teyne, withouten any drede, |
| So slyly that the preest it nat espide, |
| And in his sleve agayn he gan it hide, |
| And fro the fir he took up his mateere, |
| 680 | And in th' yngot putte it with myrie cheere, |
| And in the water-vessel he it caste, |
| Whan that hym luste, and bad the preest as faste, |
| "Loke what ther is, put in thyn hand and grope. |
| Thow fynde shalt ther silver, as I hope." |
| 685 | What, devel of helle, sholde it elles be? |
| Shaving of silver silver is, pardee! |
| He putte his hand in and took up a teyne |
| Of silver fyn, and glad in every veyne |
| Was this preest, whan he saugh that it was so. |
| 690 | "Goddes blessyng, and his moodres also, |
| And alle halwes, have ye, sire chanoun," |
| Seyde the preest, "and I hir malisoun, |
| But, and ye vouche-sauf to techen me |
| This noble craft and this subtilitee, |
| 695 | I wol be youre in al that evere I may." |
|
Quod the chanoun, "Yet wol I make assay |
| The seconde tyme, that ye may taken heede |
| And been expert of this, and in youre neede |
| Another day assaye in myn absence |
| 700 | This disciplyne and this crafty science. |
| Lat take another ounce," quod he tho, |
| Of quyksilver, withouten wordes mo, |
| And do therwith as ye han doon er this |
| With that oother, which that now silver is." |
| 705 | This preest hym bisieth in al that he kan |
| To doon as this chanoun, this cursed man, |
| Comanded hym, and faste he blew the fir, |
| For to come to th' effect of his desir. |
| And this chanon, right in the meene while, |
| 710 | Al redy was this preest eft to bigile, |
| And for a contenaunce in his hand he bar |
| An holwe stikke - taak kep and be war! - |
| In the ende of which an ounce, and namoore, |
| Of silver lemaille put was, as bifore |
| 715 | Was in his cole, and stopped with wex weel |
| For to kepe in his lemaille every deel. |
| And whil this preest was in his bisynesse, |
| This chanoun with his stikke gan hym dresse |
| To hym anon, and his poudre caste in |
| 720 | As he dide er - the devel out of his skyn |
| Hym terve, I pray to God, for his falshede! |
| For he was evere fals in thoght and dede - |
| And with this stikke, above the crosselet, |
| That was ordeyned with that false jet |
| 725 | He stired the coles til relente gan |
| The wex agayn the fir, as every man, |
| But it a fool be, woot wel it moot nede, |
| And al that in the stikke was out yede, |
| And in the crosselet hastily it fel. |
| 730 | Now, good sires, what wol ye bet than wel? |
| Whan that this preest thus was bigiled ageyn, |
| Supposynge noght but treuthe, sooth to seyn, |
| He was so glad that I kan nat expresse |
| In no manere his myrthe and his gladnesse; |
| 735 | And to the chanoun he profred eftsoone |
| Body and good. "Ye," quod the chanoun soone, |
| "Though poure I be, crafty thou shalt me fynde. |
| I warne thee, yet is ther moore bihynde. |
| Is ther any coper herinne?" seyde he. |
| 740 | "Ye," quod the preest, "sire, I trowe wel ther be." |
| "Elles go bye us som, and that as swithe; |
| Now, goode sire, go forth thy wey and hy the." |
| He wente his wey, and with the coper cam, |
| And this chanon it in his handes nam, |
| 745 | And of that coper weyed out but an ounce. |
| Al to symple is my tonge to pronounce, |
| As ministre of my wit, the doublenesse |
| Of this chanoun, roote of alle cursednesse! |
| He semed freendly to hem that knewe hym noght, |
| 750 | But he was feendly bothe in werk and thoght. |
| It weerieth me to telle of his falsnesse, |
| And nathelees yet wol I it expresse, |
| To th' entente that men may be war therby, |
| And for noon oother cause, trewely. |
| 755 | He putte this ounce of coper in the crosselet, |
| And on the fir as swithe he hath it set, |
| And caste in poudre, and made the preest to blowe, |
| And in his werkyng for to stoupe lowe, |
| As he dide er, - and al nas but a jape; |
| 760 | Right as hym liste, the preest he made his ape! |
| And afterward in the ingot he it caste, |
| And in the panne putte it at the laste |
| Of water, and in he putte his owene hand, |
| And in his sleve (as ye biforen-hand |
| 765 | Herde me telle) he hadde a silver teyne. |
| He slyly took it out, this cursed heyne, |
| Unwityng this preest of his false craft, |
| And in the pannes botme he hath it laft; |
| And in the water rombled to and fro, |
| 770 | And wonder pryvely took up also |
| The coper teyne, noght knowynge this preest, |
| And hidde it, and hym hente by the breest, |
| And to hym spak, and thus seyde in his game: |
| "Stoupeth adoun. By God, ye be to balme! |
| 775 | Helpeth me now, as I dide yow whileer; |
| Putte in youre hand, and looketh what is theer." |
| This preest took up this silver teyne anon, |
| And thanne seyde the chanoun, "Lat us gon |
| With thise thre teynes, whiche that we han wroght, |
| 780 | To som goldsmyth, and wite if they been oght. |
| For, by my feith, I nolde, for myn hood, |
| But if that they were silver fyn and good, |
| And that as swithe preeved it shal bee." |
| Unto the goldsmyth with thise teynes three |
| 785 | They wente, and putte thise teynes in assay |
| Fo fir and hamer; myghte no man seye nay, |
| But that they weren as hem oghte be. |
|
This sotted preest, who was gladder than he? |
| Was nevere brid gladder agayn the day, |
| 790 | Ne nyghtyngale, in the sesoun of may, |
| Was nevere noon that luste bet to synge; |
| Ne lady lustier in carolynge, |
| Or for to speke of love and wommanhede, |
| Ne knyght in armes to doon an hardy dede, |
| 795 | To stonden in grace of his lady deere, |
| Than hadde this preest this soory craft to leere. |
| And to the chanoun thus he spak and seyde: |
| "For love of God, that for us alle deyde, |
| And as I may deserve it unto yow, |
| 800 | What shal this receite coste? Telleth now!" |
| "By oure Lady," quod this chanon, "it is deere, |
| I warne yow wel; for save I and a frere, |
| In Engelond ther kan no man it make." |
| "No fors," quod he, "now, sire, for Goddes sake, |
| 805 | What shal I paye? Telleth me, I preye." |
| "Ywis," quod he, it is ful deere, I seye. |
| Sire, at o word, if that thee list it have, |
| Ye shul paye fourty pound, so God me save! |
| And nere the freendshipe that ye dide er this |
| 810 | To me, ye sholde paye moore, ywis." |
| This preest the somme of fourty pound anon |
| Of nobles fette, and took hem everichon |
| To this chanoun, for this ilke receite. |
| Al his werkyng nas but fraude and deceite. |
| 815 |
"Sire preest," he seyde, "I kepe han no loos |
| Of my craft, for I wolde it kept were cloos; |
| And, as ye love me, kepeth it secree. |
| For, and men knewen al my soutiltee, |
| By God, they wolden han so greet envye |
| 820 | To me, by cause of my philosophye, |
| I sholde be deed; ther were noon oother weye." |
| "God it forbeede," quod the preest, "what sey ye? |
| Yet hadde I levere spenden al the good |
| Which that I have, and elles wexe I wood, |
| 825 | Than that ye sholden falle in swich mescheef." |
| "For youre good wyl, sire, have ye right good preef," |
| Quod the chanoun, "and farwel, grant mercy!" |
| He wente his wey, and never the preest hym sy |
| After that day; and whan that this preest shoolde |
| 830 | Maken assay, at swich tyme as he wolde, |
| Of this receit, farwel! it wolde nat be. |
| Lo, thus byjaped and bigiled was he! |
| Thus maketh he his introduccioun, |
| To brynge folk to hir destruccioun. |
| 835 | Considereth, sires, how that, in ech estaat, |
| Bitwixe men and gold ther is debaat |
| So ferforth that unnethes is ther noon. |
| This multiplying blent so many oon |
| That in good feith I trowe that it bee |
| 840 | The cause grettest of scarsetee. |
| Philosophres speken so mystily |
| In this craft that men kan nat come therby, |
| For any wit that men han now-a-dayes. |
| They mowe wel chiteren as doon thise jayes, |
| 845 | And in hir termes sette hir lust and peyne, |
| But to hir purpos shul they nevere atteyne. |
| A man may lightly lerne, if he have aught, |
| To multiplie, and brynge his good to naught! |
| Lo! swich a lucre is in this lusty game, |
| 850 | A mannes myrthe it wol turne unto grame, |
| And empten also grete and hevye purses, |
| And maken folk for to purchacen curses |
| Of hem that han hir good therto ylent. |
| O! fy, for shame! They that han been brent, |
| 855 | Allas! kan they nat flee the fires heete? |
| Ye that it use, I rede ye it leete, |
| Lest ye lese al; for bet than nevere is late. |
| Nevere to thryve were to long a date. |
| Though ye prolle ay, ye shul it nevere fynde. |
| 860 | Ye been as boold as is Bayard the blynde, |
| That blondreth forth, and peril casteth noon. |
| He is as boold to renne agayn a stoon |
| As for to goon bisides in the weye. |
| So faren ye that multiplie, I seye. |
| 865 | If that youre eyen kan nat seen aright, |
| Looke that youre mynde lakke noght his sight. |
| For though ye looken never so brode and stare, |
| Ye shul nothyng wynne on that chaffare, |
| But wasten al that ye may rape and renne. |
| 870 | Withdraweth the fir, lest it to faste brenne; |
| Medleth namoore with that art, I mene, |
| For if ye doon, youre thrift is goon ful clene. |
| And right as swithe I wol yow tellen heere |
| What philosophres seyn in this mateere. |
| 875 | Lo, thus seith Arnold of the Newe Toun, |
| As his Rosarie maketh mencioun; |
| He seith right thus, withouten any lye: |
| "Ther may no man mercurie mortifie |
| But it be with his brother knowlechyng." |
| 880 | How be that he which that first seyde this thyng |
| Of philosophres fader was, Hermes - |
| He seith how that the dragon, doutelees, |
| Ne dyeth nat, but if that he be slayn |
| With his brother; and that is for to sayn, |
| 885 | By the dragon, Mercurie, and noon oother |
| He understood, and brymstoon by his brother, |
| That out of Sol and Luna were ydrawe. |
| And therfore, seyde he, - taak heede to my sawe - |
| Lat no man bisye hym this art for to seche, |
| 890 | But if that he th' entencioun and speche |
| Of philosophres understonde kan; |
| And if he do, he is a lewed man. |
| For this science and this konnyng," quod he, |
| "Is of the secree of secrees, pardee. |
| 895 | Also ther was a disciple of Plato, |
| That on a tyme seyde his maister to, |
| As his book Senior wol bere witnesse, |
| And this was his demande in soothfastnesse: |
| "Telle me the name of the privee stoon?" |
| 900 |
And Plato answerde unto hym anoon, |
| "Take the stoon that Titanos men name." |
| "Which is that?" quod he. "Magnasia is the same," |
| Seyde Plato. "Ye, sire, and is it thus? |
| This is ignotum per ignocius. |
| 905 | What is Magnasia, good sire, I yow preye?" |
| "It is a water that is maad, I seye, |
| Of elementes foure," quod Plato. |
| "Telle me the roote, good sire," quod he tho, |
| "Of that water, if it be youre wil." |
| 910 | "Nay, nay," quod Plato, "certein, that I nyl. |
| The philosophres sworn were everychoon |
| That they sholden discovere it unto noon, |
| Ne in no book it write in no manere. |
| For unto Crist it is so lief and deere |
| 915 | That he wol nat that it discovered bee, |
| But where it liketh to his deitee |
| Men for t' enspire, and eek for to deffende |
| Whom that hym liketh; lo, this is the ende. |
| Thanne conclude I thus, sith that God of hevene |
| 920 | Ne wil nat that the philosophres nevene |
| How that a man shal come unto this stoon, |
| I rede, as for the beste, lete it goon. |
| For whoso maketh God his adversarie, |
| As for to werken any thyng in contrarie |
| 925 | Of his wil, certes, never shal he thryve, |
| Thogh that he multiplie terme of his lyve. |
| And there a poynt; for ended is my tale. |
| God sende every trewe man boote of his bale! |
