From Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Canterbury Tales", The Miller's Tale, lines 79-112

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Miller's Tale
lines 79-112: John the carpenter and his lodger Nicolas

	Whilom ther was dwellynge at Oxenford
80	A riche gnof, that gestes heeld to bord,
	And of his craft he was a carpenter.
	With hym ther was dwellynge a poure scoler,
	Hadde lerned art, but al his fantasye
	Was turned for to lerne astrologye,
85	And koude a certeyn of conclusiouns,
	To demen by interrogaciouns,
	If that men asked hym in certain houres
	Whan that men sholde have droghte or elles shoures,
	Or if men asked hym what sholde bifalle
90	Of every thyng; I may nat rekene hem alle.

	Once on a time was dwelling in Oxford
80	A wealthy man who took in guests to board,
	And of his craft he was a carpenter.
	A poor scholar was lodging with him there,
	Who'd learned the arts, but all his phantasy
	Was turned to study of astrology;
85	And knew a certain set of theorems
	And could find out by various stratagems,
	If men but asked of him in certain hours
	When they should have a drought or else have showers,
	Or if men asked of him what should befall
90	To anything; I cannot reckon them all.

	This clerk was cleped hende Nicholas.
	Of deerne love he koude and of solas;
	And therto he was sleigh and ful privee,
	And lyk a mayden meke for to see.
95	A chambre hadde he in that hostelrye
	Allone, withouten any compaignye,
	Ful fetisly ydight with herbes swoote;
	And he hymself as sweete as is the roote
	Of lycorys, or any cetewale.
100	His Almageste, and bookes grete and smale,
	His astrelabie, longynge for his art,
	His augrym stones layen faire apart,
	On shelves couched at his beddes heed;
	His presse ycovered with a faldyng reed
105	And al above ther lay a gay sautrie,
	On which he made a-nyghtes melodie
	So swetely that all the chambre rong;
	And Angelus ad virginem he song;
	And after that he song the Kynges Noote.
110	Ful often blessed was his myrie throte.
	And thus this sweete clerk his tyme spente
	After his freendes fyndyng and his rente.

	This clerk was called the clever Nicholas;
	Of secret loves he knew and their solace;
	And he kept counsel, too, for he was sly
	And meek as any virgin passing by.
95	He had a chamber in that hostelry,
	And lived alone there, without company,
	All garnished with sweet herbs of good repute;
	And he himself sweet-smelling as the root
	Of licorice, valerian, or setwall.
100	His Almagest, and books both great and small,
	His astrolabe, belonging to his art,
	His algorism stones - all laid apart
	On shelves that ranged beside his lone bed's head;
	His press was covered with a cloth of red.
105	And over all there lay a psaltery
	Whereon he made an evening's melody,
	Playing so sweetly that the chamber rang;
	And Angelus ad virginem he sang;
	And after that he warbled the King's Note:
110	Often in good voice was his merry throat.
	And thus this gentle clerk his leisure spends
	Supported by some income and his friends.