When the Knight had told his tale,
there was no one in all that company, young or old,
who did not say it was a noble story,
and worthy to be remembered-
particularly the gentlefolk, each and every one.
Our Host laughed, and swore, "As I live and breathe,
this goes well: the pouch is unbuckled.
Now let's see who shall tell another tale,
for the game is indeed well begun.
Now, sir Monk, if you can, tell
something to match the Knight's tale."
The Miller, who was deathly pale from drunkenness,
so that he could hardly sit on his horse,
was not disposed to remove his hood or hat,
nor stand aside for anyone for courtesy's sake,
but he began to cry out in a voice like Pilate's,
and swore, "By God's arms and blood and bones,
I know a 'noble' tale for the occasion,
with which I'll now match the Knight's tale!"
Our Host saw that he was drunk with ale,
and said, "Hold on, Robin, my dear brother;
some better man shall first tell us another.
Hold on, and let's do things properly."
"By God's soul," said he, "that I
will not;
for I will speak or else go on my way."
Our Host answered, "Tell your story, in the devil's name!
You are a fool; your wits are drowned."
"Now listen," said the Miller, "everyone.
But first I will proclaim that I am drunk;
I know it by the sound of my voice.
And therefore, if I say something wrong,
blame it on Southwark's ale, I pray you;
for I am going to tell a miracle story and a saint's life,
about a carpenter and his wife,
and how a college student made a fool of the carpenter."
The Reeve answered and said, "Shut your mouth!
Leave off your stupid, drunken obscenity.
It is sinful and very foolish
to criticize any man or defame him-
and also to say bad things about wives.
You can say enough about other things."
This drunken Miller replied at once,
and said, "Dear brother Oswald,
he who has no wife is no cuckold.
But I don't say that therefore you are one;
there are a great many good wives,
and always a thousand good ones to one bad one;
you know that perfectly well yourself, unless you're crazy.
Why are you angry with my story now?
I have a wife, by God, just as you do;
yet I wouldn't, for the oxen in my plow,
take more than enough on myself so
as to think that I am a cuckold;
I will believe firmly that I am none.
A husband should not be inquisitive
about God's secrets-or his wife's.
Just as long as he can find God's plenty there,
there's no need to inquire about the rest."
What more should I say but that this Miller
would not hold back his words for anyone,
but told his churl's tale in his own way.
I'm sorry that I must repeat it here,
and therefore I ask every well-bred person,
for God's love, don't think that I speak with evil intentions;
but I must repeat all their tales, be they better or worse,
or else be false to some of my material.
And therefore whoever does not wish to hear it,
turn over the leaf and choose another tale;
for he shall find enough, long and short,
of narratives that deal with nobility,
and also morality and holiness.
Don't blame me if you don't choose well.
The Miller is a churl, you know this well;
so was the Reeve, and some of the others-
and both of them told dirty stories.
Pay attention, and don't put the blame on me;
and then, too, you shouldn't treat a game seriously.
Once upon a time there lived at Oxford
a rich churl who boarded paying guests;
he was a carpenter by trade.
At his house lived a poor scholar
who had completed part of his arts course,
but his whole imagination was directed to learning astrology.
He knew a number of propositions
by which to solve astrological problems
about particular hours, if you asked him
when you would have drought or else showers,
or if you asked him what should happen
in various situations; I can't mention all of them.
This college student was named "handy"
Nicholas;
he knew all about the intimacies of love and its pleasurable consolations,
and, besides, he was sly and very discreet
and looked as meek as a maiden.
In that boarding house he had a room,
alone, without any roommate,
and nicely decked with fragrant herbs;
and he himself was as sweet and clean
as the root of licorice or any ginger.
His Almagest and books large and small,
his astrolabe, the tool of his trade,
and his counters for arithmetic lay neatly separated
on shelves set at the head of his bed;
his storage chest was covered with a red woolen cloth.
At the top there lay a good-looking psaltery
on which by night he made melody
so sweetly that all the room rang with it;
he sang Angelus ad virginem,
and after that he sang the King's Tune;
people often blessed his merry voice.
And thus this sweet clerk spent his time,
depending upon his friends' support and his income.
This carpenter had recently married a wife
whom he loved more than his life;
she was eighteen years of age.
He was jealous and kept her under lock and key,
for she was wild and young, and he was old,
and judged himself a candidate for cuckold.
He did not know (for his understanding was crude) Cato's
saying that a man should marry someone like himself:
people should wed according to their situation,
for youth and age are often at odds.
But since he had fallen into the trap,
he had to endure his trouble, like other people.
This young wife was lovely;
her body was as graceful and slim as a weasel's.
She wore a sash threaded with silk,
and around her hips a flared apron white as morning-fresh milk;
her smock was white, and embroidered with
black silk around the collar,
inside and outside, front and back.
The ribbons of her cap
matched her collar, and her broad silk
headband sat well back from her face.
And-certainly-she had a lecherous eye.
Her eyebrows were closely plucked,
and they arched gracefully and were black as a sloe.
She was more of a treat to look at than a pear tree, just come
into bloom,
and she was softer to touch than the wool of a sheep.
At her waist hung a leather purse,
tasseled with silk and beaded in bright metal.
In all this world, if you search up and down,
you can find no man clever enough to imagine
so delightful a doll or such a wench. The brilliance
of her coloring was better than the gleam of a
gold noble fresh from the mint in the Tower of London.
As for her singing, it was as clear and lively
as the notes of a barn swallow.
Besides all this, she could gambol and play
like any kid or calf following its mother.
Her mouth was as sweet as a liqueur made from honey,
or as a hoard of apples laid away in hay or heather.
She was skittish as a colt,
tall as a mast, and straight as an arrow.
On her low collar she wore a brooch
as broad as the boss of a battle-shield.
Her shoes were laced far up her legs.
She was a morning glory, she was a daisy,
fit for any lord to lay in his bed-
or for any good yeoman to marry.
Now sir, and again sir, it happened
that one day this "handy" Nicholas
fell to flirting and playing with this young wife
while her husband was at Osney
(these clerks are very subtle and sly),
and in private he grabbed her in the crotch
and said, "Unless I have my will of you,
sweetheart, I'm sure to die for suppressed love."
And he held her hard by the hips
and said, "Sweetheart, love me right away
or I'll die, so help me God!"
She jumped like a colt closed in a shoeing frame
and twisted her head away hard
and said, "I won't kiss you, on my faith;
let me go," she said, "let me go, Nicholas,
or I'll cry 'Rape!' and 'Help me!'
Get your hands off me; where are your manners!"
This Nicholas started begging for mercy
and spoke so well and apologized so hard
that she finally granted him her love
and made her oath, by Saint Thomas Becket,
that she would be his to command
when she could see her opportunity.
"My husband is so filled with jealousy
that, unless you are on guard and keep it a secret,
I know for sure that I'm as good as dead," she said.
"You must be very discreet in this matter."
"No, don't worry about that," said Nicholas;
"A college student would certainly have wasted his time
if he couldn't fool a carpenter."
And thus they agreed and promised
to look out for an opportunity, as I said before.
When Nicholas had accomplished all this
and pawed her thoroughly around the hips,
he kissed her sweetly, and took his psaltery
and played it hard and made melody.
Then it happened that this good wife
went to the parish church on a holy day
to perform Christ's own works:
her forehead shone as bright as day,
it had been washed so thoroughly when she left her work.
Now, there was a parish clerk of that church
who was called Absalom.
His hair was curly and shone like gold
and spread out like a big, wide fan;
the part in his hair lay fashionably straight and even,
his complexion was red, his eyes as gray as a goose;
he wore very elegant red tights,
with St. Paul's window tooled into his shoes.
He was dressed in the latest fashion,
in a close-fitting light blue tunic;
its laces were set in neatly and close together.
In addition he had a handsome surplice
as white as the blossoms on the tree-branches.
He was a merry lad, God help me.
He knew well how to draw blood, to cut hair, and to shave,
and how to draw up a charter of land or a release.
He could trip and dance twenty different ways
according to the style in Oxford at that time,
and prance to and fro on his legs,
and play song tunes on a small fiddle.
He sometimes sang the high treble loudly,
and he could play a guitar well.
There wasn't a beer house or tavern in the whole town
that he didn't visit with his entertainment,
if there was any good-looking barmaid there.
But, to tell the truth, he was a little squeamish
about farting and somewhat prissy in the way he talked.
This Absalom, who enjoyed good times and was a bit
of a playboy,
carried the censer on the holy day,
incensing the wives of the parish with particular zeal,
and many a loving look he cast upon them,
particularly on the carpenter's wife:
looking at her seemed the good life to him,
she was so neat and sweet and appetizing.
I dare say that if she had been a mouse
and he a cat, he would have pounced on her right away.
Jolly Absalom, this parish clerk,
had such love-longing in his heart
that he would accept not donations at the church service from
any woman;
he said that he wouldn't do it, out of courtesy.
When night came, the moon shone brightly
and Absalom took his guitar,
for he planned to stay up as lovers do.
He went out, lusty and amorous,
until he came to the carpenter's house
a little after cockcrow,
and took his stand by a hinged window
in the carpenter's wall.
He sang in his refined, dainty voice,
"Now, dear lady, if you're so inclined,
I pray you to take pity on me,"
nicely in tune with his playing.
The carpenter woke up and heard him singing
and spoke to his wife saying,
"Why, Alison, don't you hear Absalom
singing down there beneath our bedroom window?"
And to that she answered her husband,
"Yes; God knows, John, I hear every bit of it."
So things progressed. What more do you want than
good enough?
From day to day this jolly Absalom
wooed her until he was woe-begone:
he stayed awake all night and all day;
he combed his wide-spreading locks and made himself look handsome;
he wooed her by go-betweens and proxies
and swore he would be her own lowest servant;
he sang quaveringly, like a nightingale;
he sent her fortified wine, mead, spiced ale,
and pastries piping hot out from the oven;
and since she was a townswoman, he offered money.
For some will be won with riches,
some with blows, and some with kindness.
Once, to show his agility and skill,
he played Herod on the raised stage.
But what use was any of this to him in this case?
She loved "handy" Nicholas so much
that Absalom could go whistle to the wind;
he earned nothing but scorn for his labors;
thus she made a monkey of Absalom
and turned all his serious undertakings into a joke.
There's no doubt that this proverb is very true;
men say just this: "The crafty one nearby
makes the distant lover scorned."
Whether Absalom was raging and furious,
because he was far from her sight,
Nicholas stood nearer and blocked his light.
Now play your part well, you "handy" Nicholas,
for Absalom may wail and sing "Alas."
And so it happened on a Saturday
that this carpenter had gone to Osney;
and "handy" Nicholas and Alison
agreed to this conclusion:
that Nicholas should invent himself a trick
to fool this simple-minded. jealous husband;
and if the game went right,
she would sleep in his arms all night.
For this was his desire, and hers, too.
Right away, without another word,
Nicholas wouldn't delay any further,
but very quietly carried to his room
both food and drink for a day or two,
and told her to say to her husband
if he asked for Nicholas
that she didn't know where he was-
that she hadn't laid eyes on him all that day;
and that she imagined he was sick,
for her maid couldn't rouse him, no matter how she shouted;
he wouldn't answer, no matter what happened.
This lasted all that Saturday
and until sundown on Sunday:
Nicholas stayed quiet in his room
and ate and slept, or did whatever he wanted.
This foolish carpenter was astonished
at Nicholas and wondered what ailed him;
he said, "By St. Thomas, I am afraid
that things aren't right with Nicholas.
God forbid that he should die suddenly!
This world now is very ticklish, in truth:
I saw a corpse being borne to church today,
and just last Monday I saw the man going about his business.
Go up," he said then to his servant,
"call at his door or knock on it with a stone.
See what's happening, and let me know directly."
This servant went up with heavy feet,
and as he stood at the chamber door
he shouted and knocked like mad.
"How now, what are you doing, Master Nicholas?
How can you sleep all day long?"
But it was all for nothing-he didn't hear a sound.
He found a hole low down on one of the wall-boards
where the cat used to creep in,
and he looked intently through it;
at last he caught sight of him:
Nicholas was sitting there, fixedly staring up in the air,
as though he had been transfixed by the new moon.
The servant went down and soon told his master
in what state he had seen this man.
The carpenter set to crossing himself
and said, "Help us, Saint Frideswide!
A man little knows what is going to happen to him.
This man has fallen, with his "astromy,"
into some madness or fit;
I always thought it would be this way-
men shouldn't pry into the secret affairs of God!
Yea, ever blessed be an uneducated man
who knows nothing but his creed.
Another clerk fared the same way with his "astromy":
he walked in the fields to gaze
upon the stars and find out what was to occur
until he fell into a manure pit-
that he didn't see! And yet, by St. Thomas,
I really feel sorry for "handy" Nicholas.
He shall be scolded for all his studying
if I get the chance, by Jesus, heaven's king!
Get me a pole, so that I can jam it under
while you, Robin, lift up the door.
He shall come out of his studying, I'll bet."
And he began to apply himself to the bedroom door.
His servant was a strong fellow for the job,
and he heaved it up at once by the hinges:
the door then fell on the floor.
Nicholas continued to sit as still as stone
and kept staring up in the air.
The carpenter thought that Nicholas was in a fit,
and seized him strongly by the shoulders
and shook him hard, crying roughly,
"What! Nicholas, what! Look down!
Awake, and think on Christ's Passion!
I sign you with the cross against elves and evil creatures."
Then he immediately said the night-charm
in the direction of the four corners of the house
and on the threshold of the outside door:
At last, "handy" Nicholas
began to sigh deeply and said, "Alas,
shall all this world now be lost again?"
The carpenter answered, "What are you saying?
What! Think on God, as we do-we men that work."
Nicholas answered, "Bring me something to drink,
and afterwards I want to speak in private
of a certain thing that concerns you and me;
I won't tell it to anyone else, you can be sure."
The carpenter went down and came up again,
bringing a generous quart of strong ale;
and when each of them had drunk his share,
Nicholas shut his door tight
and sat the carpenter down beside him.
He said, "John, my beloved and esteemed host,
you shall swear to me here on your word of honor
that you will not betray this secret to any creature;
for it is Christ's secret that I am going to utter,
and if you tell it to anyone, you are lost,
because for doing so you shall suffer this vengeance:
if you betray me, you shall go mad."
"No, Christ forbid it for the sake of his holy
blood!"
said this simple man, "I am no blabbermouth;
no, though I say it myself, I don't like to gossip.
Tell me whatever you want, I'll never tell it
to woman or child, by Him Who freed the souls from hell."
"Now, John," said Nicholas, "I won't
lie;
I have discovered in my astrology,
as I was looking at the bright moon,
that on Monday next, when a quarter of the night is still to go,
a rain will fall, so wild and furious
that Noah's flood was never half so great.
In less than an hour," he said, "this world
shall be drowned, so hideous will be the downpour;
as a result all mankind shall drown and lose their lives."
The carpenter answered, "Alas, my wife!
Shall she drown? Alas, my Alison!"
He was so upset at this he almost collapsed,
and said, "Is there nothing we can do to prevent this?"
"Why, yes, indeed, by God," said "handy"
Nicholas,
"if you will act according to learning and advice-
you may not act according to your own idea;
for Solomon, who was very truthful, tells us:
'Do everything according to advice and you will not be sorry.'
And if you will act on good advice,
I promise that, without mast or sail,
I shall still save her and you and myself.
Haven't you heard how Noah was saved
when our Lord had forewarned him
that all the world should be destroyed by water?"
"Certainly," said the carpenter, "long ago."
"Haven't you also heard," said Nicholas,
"about the anxiety of Noah and his companions
until he could get his wife on board?
I'll bet that time he would rather
have had her in a ship of her own
than keep all his fine black sheep.
And do you know what's best to do for all this?
This requires haste, and about an urgent matter
you may not deliver a sermon or make delay.
"Go quickly and bring right into this inn
a kneading trough, or else a barrel,
for each of us. But be sure they are large ones,
in which we can float as in a ship,
and have in them provisions enough
for a day only-forget about the rest!
The water shall recede and go away
about nine in the morning the next day.
"But Robin, your servant, may not know of this,
and I may not save Jill, your maid, either;
don't ask why, for even if you do,
I won't reveal God's private affairs.
It is enough for you, unless you are mad,
to have as great grace as Noah had.
I shall indeed save your wife,
have no doubt about that.
Now go your way, and hurry about our business.
"But when you've got, for her and yourself
and me, these three kneading tubs,
then you are to hang them high up under the roof,
so that no one will notice our preparations.
And when you've done as I have said,
and have stowed our provisions in them safely,
and an ax, too, to cut the rope in two
when the water comes, so that we may float,
and when you've broken a hole high up on the gable
on the garden-side and over the stable,
so that we can get out freely on our way
when the great rain is over-
then you'll float as merrily, I promise,
as the white duck does after her drake.
Then I'll call out, 'Hey, Alison! Hey, John!
Cheer up; the flood will go away soon,'
and you will say, 'Hey there, Master Nicholas!
Good morning; I see you clearly, now that the sun is shining.'
And then we shall be lords of all the world
for our entire lives, like Noah and his wife.
"But I caution you about one thing for sure:
be well forewarned that on that same night
when we have gone on shipboard,
none of us speak a word,
or call, or cry out, but remain in prayer,
for that is God's own precious command.
"Your wife and you must hang far apart
so that there shall be no sin between you,
neither in looking nor in act.
The arrangements are set; go, God speed.
Tomorrow night, when everyone is asleep,
we'll creep into our kneading tubs
and sit there, awaiting God's grace.
Now go on your way, I have no more time
to make a longer sermon about this.
As people say: 'Send the wise and say no more!'
You are so wise that there is no need to teach you:
go, save our lives, I beseech you."
The foolish carpenter went his way.
Often he said, "Alas" and "Alack,"
and he told his secret to his wife.
She was aware of it, and knew better than he
what all this elaborate contrivance was about.
Nevertheless, she behaved as though she would die,
and said, "Alas! Get on your way immediately;
help us to escape, or we are lost, each one of us.
I am your faithful, true, wedded wife:
go, my dear spouse, and help to save our lives."
Look what a powerful thing emotion is!
One may die from imagining things,
so deeply may a notion be imprinted.
This foolish carpenter began to shake;
he thinks in truth that he can see
Noah's flood come surging like the sea
to drown Alison, his honey-dear.
He weeps, wails, looks mournful;
he sighs with many sorrowful gasps.
He went and got himself a kneading trough,
and after that a tub and a barrel,
and secretly he sent them to his inn
and hung them under the roof in secret.
With his own hand he made three ladders
on which they might climb by the rungs and uprights
to the tubs hanging in the rafters,
and provisioned both trough and tubs
with bread and cheese and good ale in a jug,
quite enough for one day.
But before he installed all this stuff,
he sent his manservant, and also the girl,
to go to London on an errand for him.
On Monday, when night drew on,
he shut his door without lighting any candles
and arranged everything as it was supposed to be.
And, soon afterwards, all three of them climbed up;
they sat still for the time it takes to walk two hundred yards
or so.
"Now, say your Pater Noster; hush!"
said Nicholas,
and "Hush," said John, and "Hush," said Alison.
The carpenter recited his devotions,
and sat quietly, saying his prayers
and waiting to see whether he might hear the rain.
Wearied by all his hard work, the carpenter
fell into a deep sleep-I'd guess,
just about curfew time, or a little later.
He groaned painfully because of the affliction of his spirit,
and then he snored, for his head lay uncomfortably.
Nicholas crept down from the ladder
and Alison hurried down very softly;
without any words they went to bed
where the carpenter usually slept.
There was reveling and harmony there,
and Alison and Nicholas lay together
working hard at mirth and pleasure
until the bell of Lauds began to ring
and friars began to sing in the chancel.
The parish clerk, our amorous Absalom,
who was always so distraught for love,
was at Osney on Monday
to have a good time with his friends;
he happened to ask a member of the order
very privately about John the carpenter;
the man took him aside, out of the church,
and said, "I don't know, I haven't seen him here at work
since Saturday; I think he was gone
to get some timber where our abbot sent him,
for he is accustomed to go for timber
and stay at the farm for a day or two.
Otherwise, he's certainly at home;
I cannot for sure say where he is."
This Absalom grew frolicsome and lighthearted,
and thought, "Now is the time to stay up all night,
for I certainly haven't seen him moving
in or out of his door since daybreak.
So help me, at cockcrow I shall
knock very quietly at the window
that is quite low in the wall of his bedchamber.
Now I'll tell Alison all my love-sickness,
and I'll bet I won't fail
at the very least to get a kiss from her.
I'll have some kind of comfort, for sure.
My mouth has itched all day;
that is a sign of kissing, at least.
Besides, I dreamed all night that I was at a feast.
Therefore, I'll go sleep for an hour or two,
and then I'll stay up and amuse myself all night."
When the first cock had crowed, then
rose up this lusty lover Absalom,
and dressed himself handsomely to perfection.
But first he chewed cardamom and licorice,
in order to smell sweet, before he combed his hair.
He carried a sprig of clover under his tongue,
for by its means he expected to be pleasing.
He strolled to the carpenter's house
and stood quietly under the hinged window-
it reached only to his chest, it was so low-
and he coughed softly, making a slight noise.
"What are you doing, honeycomb, sweet Alison?
My fair bird, sweet cinnamon,
awake, my sweetheart, and talk to me.
You don't give much thought to my woe,
which is so great that I in a fever all the time.
It is no wonder though I have hot spells and am feverish:
I'm as hungry as a lamb is for its mother's teat.
Indeed, sweetheart, I have such love-sickness
that my mourning is like that of the faithful turtledove:
I can't eat any more than a girl."
"Go away from the window, Jack-fool,"
she said. "So help me God, I won't play 'Come-kiss-me.'
By Jesus, Absalom, I love another a lot better
than you, and otherwise I'd be to blame.
Go on your way or I'll throw a stone.
Now let me sleep, in the name of twenty devils!"
"Alas," said Absalom, "and alack
that ever true love was so ill-used.
Kiss me, then-since it may be no better-
for Jesus's love and love of me."
"Will you go on your way then?" she said.
"Yes, of course, sweetheart," said Absalom.
"Then get ready," she said, "I'm coming
right away."
And she said quietly to Nicholas,
"Now keep quiet, and you'll laugh your fill."
Absalom got down on his knees,
and said, "I am a lord in every way,
for after this I expect more will be coming.
Your favor, beloved; and, sweet bird, your mercy!"
She opened the window-very quickly.
"Get it over with," she said, "come on and do it
quickly,
so that our neighbors won't see you."
Absalom wiped his mouth very dry;
the night was dark as pitch or coal,
and she stuck her hole out the window,
and Absalom got neither better nor worse:
before he knew what he was doing, he passionately
kissed her naked arse with his mouth.
He jumped back and thought that something was wrong,
for he well knew that a woman doesn't have a beard;
he felt something that was all rough and long-haired,
and said, "Damn it, what have I done?"
"Teehee," she said, and slammed the window
shut;
and Absalom went off with sorry steps.
"A beard, a beard," said 'handy' Nicholas,
"by God's body, this goes nicely."
Silly Absalom heard all of this,
and he bit his lip for anger
and said to himself, "I'll pay you back!"
Who now rubs, who scrubs his lips
with dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips?
No one but Absalom, who says "Alas" again and again?
"I'll give my soul to Satan,
if I wouldn't rather be revenged for this insult
than own this whole town," he said.
"Alas," he said, "alas, that I didn't turn aside!"
His hot love had grown cold and was all quenched,
for from the time that he had kissed her arse,
he didn't give a damn for woman's love,
for he was cured of his sickness.
He renounced love over and over,
and wept like a child that's been spanked.
He crossed the street quietly
to a blacksmith named Master Gervase,
who was working on plowing equipment in his forge:
he was busily sharpening plowshares and colters.
Absalom knocked very softly
and said, "Open up, Gervase, right away."
"What, who are you?"
"It's me, Absalom."
"How's it going, Absalom! Christ's cross!
Why are you up so early, eh, bless us!
What's wrong with you? Some frisky girl,
God knows, has got you on the prowl this way:
by Saint Neot, you well know what I mean."
Absalom didn't care a bean
for all his joking. He didn't say a word:
he had more wool on his distaff
than Gervase knew, and said, "My good friend,
that hot colter in the chimney there-
lend it to me, I have something to do with it
and I'll return it to you very soon."
Gervase answered, "Certainly, if it were gold
or uncounted gold coins in a bag,
you should have it, as I am an honest smith;
eh, by Christ's enemy, what will you do with it?"
"Concerning that," said Absalom, "say
no more
I'll tell you indeed tomorrow morning."
And he grabbed the colter by its cool handle.
He stole out softly at the door
and went to the carpenter's wall:
first he coughed and then knocked
on the window, just as he had done before.
Alison answered, "Who's there
knocking so hard? It's a thief, I bet."
"Why, no," he said, "God knows, sweet
love,
it's your Absalom, my darling.
I have brought you a gold ring," he said;
"my mother gave it to me, God save me;
it's very fine, and well engraved, too;
I'll give it to you if you'll kiss me."
Nicholas had risen to take a piss,
and thought he would add to the joke:
Absalom should kiss his arse before getting away.
He lifted up the window quickly
and quietly stuck his arse out
beyond the buttocks, as far back as the hip-bone;
then this clerk Absalom said,
"Speak, sweet bird, I don't know where you are."
Nicholas then let loose a fart
as strong as a thunderclap,
so that Absalom was almost blinded with its force;
but he was ready with his hot iron
and struck Nicholas in the middle of his arse:
off went the skin a hand's breadth on each side;
the hot colter burned his buttocks so badly
that he thought he would die with the pain.
He began to cry out as if he were mad,
"Help! Water! Help, for God's heart!"
The carpenter started out of his slumber
and heard someone crying "Water!" like mad,
and he thought, "Alas, now Noel's flood is coming!"
He sat up without another word
and hacked the rope in two with his ax,
and down went everything; he didn't find time for selling
either bread or ale before he hit the floor
at ground level; and there he lay in a faint.
Alison and Nicholas jumped up
and cried "Alas" and "Help" out in the street.
The neighbors high and low
ran in to stare at this man
who still lay in a faint, pale and white from shock,
for he had broken his arm with the fall;
but he had to take the blame for his own misfortune,
for when he spoke he was soon drowned out
by "handy" Nicholas and Alison:
they told everyone that he was mad-
he was so afraid of "Noel's flood"
through hallucination that in his folly
he had bought himself three kneading tubs
and had hanged them up under the roof;
and that he had asked them for God's love
to sit in them up under the roof "for companionship."
The people set to laughing at his delusion.
They peered and gaped up at the roof
and turned all his misfortunes into a joke;
no matter what the carpenter said in reply,
it did no good: no one listened to his explanation.
He was so overwhelmed by their sworn oaths,
that he was considered mad through all the town,
for every clerk immediately stuck with the other's story.
They said, "The man is mad, dear brother";
and everyone laughed at this fuss.
In this way was the carpenter's wife screwed,
in spite of all his watchfulness and jealousy;
and Absalom has kissed her lower eye;
and Nicholas is branded on the butt:
this tale is done. and may God save all the company!