| This sely carpenter goth forth his wey. |
| Ful ofte he seide 'Allas' and 'weylawey,' |
| 495 | And to his wyf he tolde his pryvetee, |
| And she was war, and knew it bet than he, |
| What als his queynte cast was for to seye. |
| But natheless she ferde as she wolde deye, |
| And seyde, "Allas! go forth thy wey anon, |
| 500 | Help us to scape, or we been dede echon! |
| I am thy trewe, verray wedded wyf; |
| Go, deere spouse, and help to save oure lyf." |
| Lo, with a greet thyng is affeccioun! |
| Men may dyen of ymaginacioun, |
| 505 | So depe may impressioun be take. |
| This sely carpenter bigynneth quake; |
| Hym thynketh verraily that he may see |
| Noees flood come walwynge as the see |
| To drenchen Alisoun, his hony deere. |
| 510 | He wepeth, weyleth, maketh sory cheere; |
| He siketh with ful many a sory swogh; |
| He gooth and geteth hym a knedyng-trogh, |
| And after that a tubbe and a kymelyn, |
| And pryvely he sente hem to his in, |
| 515 | And heng hem in the roof in pryvetee. |
| His owene hand he made laddres thre, |
| To clymben by the ronges and the stalkes |
| Unto the tubbes hangynge in the balkes, |
| And hem vitailled, bothe trogh and tubbe, |
| 520 | With breed and chese, and good ale in a jubbe, |
| Suffisynge right ynogh as for a day. |
| But er that he hadde maad al this array, |
| He sente his knave, and eek his wenche also, |
| Upon his nede to London for to go. |
| 525 | And on the Monday, whan it drow to nyght, |
| He shette his dore withoute candel-lyght, |
| And dressed alle thyng as it sholde be. |
| And shortly, up they clomben alle thre; |
| They seten stille wel a furlong way. |
|
|
This foolish carpenter went on his way. |
| Often he cried "Alas!" and "Welaway!" |
| 495 | And to his wife he told all, privately; |
| But she was better taught thereof than he |
| How all this rigmarole was to apply. |
| Nevertheless she acted as she'd die, |
| And said: "Alas! Go on your way anon, |
| 500 | Help us escape, or we are lost, each one; |
| I am your true and lawfully wedded wife; |
| Go, my dear spouse, and help to save our life." |
| Lo, what a great thing is affection found! |
| Men die of imagination, I'll be bound, |
| 505 | So deep an imprint may the spirit take. |
| This hapless carpenter began to quake; |
| He thought now, verily, that he could see |
| Old Noah's flood come wallowing like the sea |
| To drown his Alison, his honey dear. |
| 510 | He wept, he wailed, he made but sorry cheer, |
| He sighed and made full many a sob and sough. |
| He went and got himself a kneading-trough |
| And, after that, two tubs he somewhere found |
| And to his dwelling privately sent round, |
| 515 | And hung them near the roof, all secretly. |
| With his own hand, then, made he ladders three, |
| To climb up by the rungs thereof, it seems, |
| And reach the tubs left hanging to the beams; |
| And those he victualled, tubs and kneading-trough, |
| 520 | With bread and cheese and good jugged ale, enough |
| To satisfy the needs of one full day. |
| But ere he'd put all this in such array, |
| He sent his servants, boy and maid, right down |
| Upon some errand into London town. |
| 525 | And on the Monday, when it came on night, |
| He shut his door, without a candle-light, |
| And ordered everything as it should be. |
| And shortly after up they climbed, all three; |
| They sat while one might plow a furlong-way. |
|
