Ar Trompington, not fer fro Cantebrigge,
Ther goth a brook, and over that a brigge,
Upon the whiche brook ther ftont a melle;
And this is veray fothe that I you telle.
A miller was ther dwelling many a day,
As any peacock he was proude and gay:
Pipen he coude, and fishe, and nettes bete,
And turnen cuppes, and wraftlen wel and fhete.
Ay by his belt he bare a long pavade,
And of a fwerd ful trenchant was the blade:
A joly popper bare he in his pouche.
Ther n'as no man for peril dorft him touche.
A Shefeld thwitel bare he in his hofe :
Round was his face, and camufe was his nose.
As pilled as an ape was his skull:

He was a market-beter at the full.

Ther dorfte no wight hond upon him legge,'
That he ne fwore he fhuld anon abegge.

A thefe he was forfoth of corne and mele,
And that a flie, and usant for to stele:
His name was hoten Deinous Simekin †.
A wif he hadde comen of noble kin :
The perfon of the toun hire father was:
With hire he yaf ful many a panne of bras
For that Simkin fhuld in his blood allie:
She was yfoftered in a nonnerie;
For Simkin wolde no wif, as he fayde,
But she were wel ynourished and a mayde,
To faven his eftat of yemanrie :
And fhe was proud and pert as is a pie.
A ful faire fight was it upon hem two.
On holy dayes beforne hire wold he go
With his tipet ybounde about his hed,
And fhe came after in a gite of red,
And Simkin hadde hofen of the fame.
Ther dorste no wight clepen her but Dame:

Denyfe Simkin, the miller of Trompington, deceiveth two clarkes of Soller's hall in Cambridge in tealing their corn, but they fo manage their matters that they revenge the wrong to the full. This Tale is imitated from Boccace, Novel the 6th, Day the 9th.This you may país over if you please. Urry.

+ His name was Simon, of which Simekin is the dimi.

nutive, and from his difdainful infolent manners he had acquired the furname of Deinous, juft as Nicholas, in the former tale, was cleped Hendy from the very oppofite behaviour. A great number of our furnames have been derived from qualities of the mind, and it is reasonable to fuppofe that at the beginning they were merely perfonal, like what we call nicknanies. It is probable that the ufe of hereditary furnaries was no even in Chaucer's tine fully established among the lower claffes of people.

Was non fo hardy, that went by the way,
That with hire dorfte rage or ones play,
But if he wolde be flain of Simikin
With pavade, or with knif or bodekin;
(For jalous folk ben perilous evermo,
Algate they wold hir wives wenden fo.)
And eke, for fhe was fomdel fmoterlich,
She was as digne as water in a dich,
And al fo ful of hoker and of bifmare,
Hire thoughte that a ladie fhuld hire spare,
What for hire kinrede and hire nortelrie
That she had lerned in the nonnerie.

A doughter hadden they betwix hem two
Of twenty yere, withouten any mo,
Saving a child that was of half yere age;
In cradle it lay, and was a propre page.
This wenche thicke and wel ygrowen was,
With camufe nofe and eyen grey as glas;
With buttokes brode, and breftes round and hie,
But right faire was hir here, I wol not lie.

The perfon of the toun, for she was faire,
In purpos was to maken hire his haire
Both of his catel and of his mefuage,
And strange he made it of hire mariage.
His purpos was for to bestow hire hie
Into fome worthy blood of ancestrie,
For holy chirches good mote ben defpended
On holy chirches blood that is defcended;
Therfore he wolde his holy blood honoure
Though that he holy chirche fhuld devoure.

Gret foken hath this miller out of doute
With whete and mait of all the land aboute,
And namely ther was a gret college
Men clep the Soler hall at Cantebrege,
Ther was hir whete and eke hir malte yground.
And on a day it happed in a found
Sike lay the manciple on a maladie,
Men wenden wifly that he fhulde die;
For which this miller ftale both mele and corn
An hundred times more than beforn,
For therbeforn he ftale but curteifly,
But now he was a thefe outrageoufly,
For which the wardein chidde and made fare,
But therof fet the miller not a tare;
He craked boft, and swore it n'as not fo,

Than were ther yonge poure fcolores two That dwelten in the halle of which I fay; Teftif they were, and lufty for to play,

And only for hir mirth and revelrie
Upon the wardein befily they crie
To yeve hem leve but a little ftound
To gon to mille and seen hir corn yground;
And hardily they dorften lay hir necke
The miller fhuld not ftele hem half a pecke
Of corn by fleighte, ne by force him reve.

And at the last the wardein yave hem leve. John highte that on, and Alein highte that other; Of a toun were they born that highte Strother, Fer in the north, I cannot tellen where.

This Alein maketh redy all his gere,
And on a hors the fak he caft anon:
Forth goth Alein the clerk, and also John,
With good fwerd and with bokeler by hir fide.
John knew the way, him neded not no guide,
And at the mille the fak adoun he laith.

Alein fpake firft; All haile, Simond, in faith, How fares thy faire daughter and thy wif?

Alein, welcome (quod Simkin), by my lif, And John alfo. How now, what do ye here? By God, Simond (quod John), nede has no pere; Him behoves ferve himfelf that has na fwain, Or elles he is a fool, as clerkes fain. Our manciple I hope he wol be ded, Swa werkes ay the wanges in his hed; And therfore is I come, and cke Alein, To grind our corn and cary it hame agein; I pray you fpede us henen that ye may.

It fhal be don (quod Simkin) by my fay.
What wol ye don while that it is in hand?
By God, right by the hopper wol I ftand,
(Quod John) and feen how that the corn gas in;
Yet faw I never by my fader kin
How that the hopper wagges til and fra.

Alein anfwered, John, and wolt thou swa?
Than wol I be benethe by my croun,
And fee how that the mele falles adoun
In til the trogh; that fhal be my difport;
For, John, in faith I may ben of your fort:
I is as ill a miller as is ye.

This miller fmiled at hir nicetee,
And thought all this n'is don but for a wile.
They weren that no man may hem begile,
But by ray thrift yet fhal I blere hir eie
For all the fleighte in hir philofophie.
The more queinte knakkes that they make,
'The more wol I ftele whan that I take.
In ftede of four yet wol I yeve hem bren.
'The greteft clerkes ben not the wifeft men,
As whilom to the welf thus fpake the mare:
Of all hir art ne count I not a tare.

Out at the dore he goth ful prively
Whan that he faw his time foftely.
He loketh up and doun, til he hath found
'The clerkes hors ther as he stood ybound
Behind the mille under a levefell,

And to the hors he goth him faire and well,
And ftripeth of the bridel right anon.

And whan the hors was laus he gan to gon
Toward the fen ther wilde mares renne,
And forth with wehee thurgh thick and thinne.
This miller goth again, no word he said,
But doth his note, and with these clerkes plaid,

Till that hir corn was faire and wel yground.
And whan the mele is facked and ybound,
This John goth out and fint his hors away,
And gan to crie Harow and wala wa!
Our hors is loft: Alein, for Goddes banes
Step on thy feet; come of, man, al at anes:
Alas! our wardein has his palfrey lorn.

This Alein al forgat both mele and corn;
Al was out of his mind his husbandrie:
What, whilke way is he gon? he gan to crie.

The wif came leping inward at a renne;
She fayd, Alas! youre hors goth to the fenne
With wilde mares as faft as he may go.
Unthank come on his hand that bond him fo,
And he that better fhuld have knit the rein.

Alas! (quod John) Alein, for Crifles pein
Lay doun thy fwerd, and I fhal min alfwa;
I is ful wight, God wate, as is a ra.
By Goddes faule he fhall not feape us bathe.
Why ne had thou put the capel in the lathe ?
Ill haile, Alein, by God thou is a fonne.

Thefe fely clerkes han ful faft yronne
Toward the fen, bothe Alein and eke John;
And whan the miller faw that they were gon
He half a bufhel of hir flour hath take,
And bad his wif go knede it in a cake.
He fayd, I trow the clerkes were aferde:
Yet can a miller make a clerkes berde
For all his art. Ye, let hem gon hir way.
Lo wher they gon. Ye, let the children play a
They get him not fo lightly by my croun.
Thefe fely clerkes rennen up and doun
With Kepe, kepe; Stand, ftand; joffa, warderere.
Ga whistle thou, and I fhal kepe him here.
But fhortly, till that it was veray night
They coude not, though they did all hir might,
Hir capel catch, he ran alway so fast,
Til in a diche they caught him at the last.

Wery and wet, as beftes in the rain, Cometh fely John, and with him cometh Alein. Alas (quod John) the day that I was borne ! Now are we driven til hething and til fcorne. Our corn is ftolne, men wol us founes calle, Both the wardein and eke our felawes alle, And namely the miller, wala wa!

Thus plaineth John as he goth by the way Toward the mille, and Bayard in his hond. The miller fitting by the fire he fond, For it was night, and forther might they nought, But for the love of God they him befought Of herberwe and of efe, as for hir peny.

The miller faide agen, If ther be any, Swiche as it is yet fhall ye have your part. Myn houfe is ftreit, but ye have lerned art; Ye can by arguments maken a place A mile brode of twenty foot of space. Let fee now if this place may fuffice, Or make it roume with fpeche, as is your gife. Now, Simond (faid this John), by Seint Cuthberd Ay is thou mery, and that is faire anfwerd. I have herd fay man fal take of twa thinges, Slike as he findes, or flike as he bringes. But fpecially I pray thee, hofte dere, Gar us have mete and drinke, and make us chere,

And we fal paien trewely at the full: With empty hand men may na haukes tull. Lo here our filver redy for to spend.

This miller to the toun his doughter fend
For ale and bred, and rofted hem a goos,
And bond hir hors he fhuld no more go loos,
And in his owen chambre hem made a bedde,
With fhetes and with chalons faire yfpredde,
Nat from his owen bed ten foot or twelve:
His doughter had a bed all by hire felve,
Right in the fame chambre by and by:
It mighte be no bet, and cause why,

Ther was no roumer herberwe in the place.
They foupen, and they speken of folace,
And drinken ever ftrong ale at the best.
Abouten midnight wente they to rest.

Wel hath this miller vernished his hed,
Ful pale he was, for-dronken, and nought red.
He yoxeth, and he speketh thurgh the nose,
As he were on the quakke or on the pose.
To bed he goth, and with him goth his wif;
As any jay the light was and jolf;
So was hire joly whiftle wel ywette.
The cradel at hire beddes feet was fette
To rocken, and to yeve the child to fouke.
And whan that dronken was all in the crouke
To bedde went the doughter right anon,
To bedde goth Alein and alfo John.
Ther n'as no more; nedeth hem no dwale.
This miller hath so wifly bibbed ale,
That as an hors he snorteth in his flepe,
Ne of his tail behind he toke no kepe.
His wif bare him a burdon a ful strong,
Men might hir routing heren a furlong.
The wenche routeth eke par compagnie.

Alein the clerk, that herd this melodie,
He poketh John, and fayde, Slepeft thou?
Herdeft thou ever flike a fong er now?
Lo whilke a complin is ymell hem alle;
A wilde fire upon hir bodies falle,
Wha herkned ever flike a ferly thing?
Ye, they shall have the flour of yvel ending.
This lange night ther tides me no refte;
But yet na force, all fhal be for the befte.
For, John (fayd he), as ever mote I thrive,
If that I may yon wenche wol I swive.
Som efement has lawe yfhapen us;
For, John, ther is a lawe that faieth thus,
That if a man in o point be agreved
'That in another fhe fhal be releved.
Our corn is ftolne, fothly it is na nay,
And we han had an yvel fit to-day;
And fin I fhal have nan amendement
Again my loffe I wol have an efement:
By Goddes faule it fhal nan other be.

This John answered, Alein, avife thee;
The miller is a perilous man, he fayde,
And if that he out of his flepe abraide,
He mighte don us bathe a vilanie.
Alein anfwered, I count him nat a flie.
And up he rift, and by the wenche he crept.
This wenche lay upright, and faste slept,
Til he fo nigh was, er fhe might efpie,
That it had ben to late for to crie:

And shortly for to fay, they were at on.
Now play Alein, for I wol speke of John.
This John lith ftill a furlong way or two,
And to himself he maketh routh and wo.
Alas! (quod he) this is a wicked jape;
Now may I fay that I is but an ape.
Yet has my felaw fomwhat for his harme;
He has the millers doughter in his arme:
He auntred him, and hath his nedes spedde,
And I lie as a draf fak in my bedde;
And whan this jape is tald another day
I fhal be halden a daffe or a cokenay:
I wol arife and auntre it by my fay:
Unhardy is unfely, thus men fay.

And up he rofe, and foftely he went
Unto the cradel, and in his hand it hent,
And bare it foft unto his beddes fete.
Sone after this the wif hire routing lete,
And gan awake, and went hire out to piffe,
And came again, and gan the cradel misie,
And groped here and ther, but the fond non.
Alas (quod fhe)! I had almost mifgon;

I had almost gon to the clerkes bedde:
Ey benedicite! than had I foule yfpedde.
And forth the goth til fhe the cradel fond.
She gropeth alway forther with hire hond,
And fond the bed, and thoughte nat but good,
Because that the cradel by it stood,
And n'ifte wher fhe was, for it was derk,
But faire and wel fhe crept in by the clerk,
And lith ful ftill, and wold han caught a flepe.
Within a while this John the clerk up lepe,
And on this goode wif he laieth on fore;
So mery a fit ne had fhe nat ful yore:
He priketh hard and depe as he were mad.

This joly lif han these two clerkes lad
Til that the thridde cok began to fing.
Alein wex werie in the morwening,
For he had fwonken all the longe night,
And fayd, Farewel, Malkin, my fwete wight;
The day is come, I may no longer bide,
But evermo wher fo I go or ride

I is thin awen clerk, fo have I hele.

Now, dere lemman, quod fhe, go, rarewele;
But or thou go, o thing I wol thee tell.

Whan that thou wendeft homeward by the mel,
Right at the entree of the core behind
Thou shalt a cake of half a bufhel find
That was ymaked of thin owen mele,
Which that I halpe my fader for to ftele:
And, goode lemman, God thee fave and kepe.
And with that word fhe gan almost to wepe.
Alcin uprift, and thought er that it daw,
I wol go crepen in by my felaw;
And fond the cradel at his hand anon.
By God, thought he, all wrang I have mifgon:
My hed is tottie of my fwink to night,
That maketh me that I go nat aright.
I wot wel by the cradel I have mifgo;
Here lith the miller and his wif alfo.
And forth he goth a twenty divel way
Unto the bed, ther as the miller lay.
He wend have cropen by his felaw John,
And by the miller in he crept anon,,

And caught him by the nekke, and gan him shake,
And fayd, Thou John, thou swineshed, awake
For Criftes faule, and here a noble game;
For by that lord that called is Seint Jame,
As I have thries as in this fhort night
Swived the millers doughter bolt upright
While thou haft as a coward ben agaft.

Ye, falfe harlot, quod the miller, hast?
A, falfe traitour, falfe clerk (quod he),
Thou shalt be ded by Goddes dignitee,
Who dorfte be fo bold to difparage
My doughter, that is come of swiche linage.
And by the throte-bolle he caught Alein,
And he him hent defpitously again,
And on the nose he fmote him with his fift;
Doun ran the blody ftreme upon his breft:
And in the flore with nose and mouth to-broke
They walwe, as don two pigges in a poke.
And up they gon, and doun again anon,
Til that the miller fporned at a fton,
And doun he fell backward upon his wif,
That wiste nothing of this nice strif:
For she was fall aslepe a litel wight
With John the clerk, that waked had all night,
And with the fall out of hire flepe fhe braide.
Helpe, holy cross of Bromeholme! (fhe fayde)
In manus tuas, Lord, to thee I call.

Awake, Simond, the fend is on me fall;

Myn herte is broken; helpe; I n'am but ded;
Ther lith on up my wombe and up myn hed:
Helpe, Simkin, for the falfe clerkes fight.
This John ftert up as faft as ever he might,

| And graspeth by the walles to and fro
To find a staf, and fhe ftert up also,
And knew the eftres bet than did this John,
And by the wall fhe toke a staf anon,
And faw a litel fhemering of a light,
For at an hole in fhone the mone bright,
And by that light she saw hem bothe two,
But fikerly the n'ifte who was who,
But as fhe faw a white thing in hire eye;
And whan fhe gan this white thing espie
She wend the clerk had wered a volupere,
And with the staf fhe drow ay nere and nere,
And wend han hit this Alein atte full,
And fmote the miller on the pilled skull,
That doun he goth, and cried, Harrow! I die,
Thife clerkes bete him wel, and let him lie,
And greithen hem, and take hir hors anon,
And eke hir mele, and on hir way they gon;
And at the mille dore eke they toke hir cake
Of half a bufhel flour ful wel ybake.

Thus is the proude miller wel ybette,
And hath yloft the grinding of the whete,
And paid for the fouper every del
Of Alein and of John that betę him wel;
His wif is swived and his doughter als;
Lo, fwiche it is a miller to be fals;
And therfore this proverb is fayd ful foth,
Him thar not winnen wel that evil doth;
A gilour fhal himself begiled be;
And God, that fiteth hie in magestee,
Save all this compagnie gret and smale.
Thus have I quit the miller in my Tale.

THE Coke of London, while the Reve spake,
For joye (him thought) he clawed him on the bak:
A ha (quod he) for Criftes paffion,
This miller had a sharpe conclufion
Upon this argument of herbergage.
Wel fayde Salomon in his langage
Ne bring not every man into thin hous,
For herberwing by night is perilous.
Wel ought a man avifed for to be
Whom that he brought into his privetee.
I pray to God fo yeve me forwe and care
If ever, fithen I highte Hodge of Ware,
Herd I a miller bet yfette a-werk;
He had a jape of malice in the derk.

But God forbede that we stinten here,
And therfore if ye vouchen fauf to here
A Tale of me that am a poure man,
I wol you tell as wel as ever I can

A litel jape that fell in our citee.

Our Hofte anfwerd and fayde, I grant it thee:

Now tell on, Roger, and loke that it be good,
For many a pastee haft thou letten blood,
And many a Jacke of Dover haft thou fold
That hath been twies hot and twies cold:
Of many a pilgrim haft thou Criftes curse,
For of thy perfelee yet fare they the werse,
That they han eten in thy ftoble goos,
For in thy fhop goth many a flie loos.
Now tell on, gentil Roger by thy name,
But yet I pray thee be not wroth for game;
A man may say ful foth in game and play.

Thou sayst ful foth, quod Roger, by my fay;
But foth play quade fpel, as the Fleming faith,
And therfore, Herry Bailly, by thy faith
Be thou not wroth, or we departen here,
Though that my Tale be of an hoftelere :
But natheles, I wol not telle it yet,
But er we part ywis thou shalt be quit.
And therwithal he lough and made chere
And fayd his Tale, as ye fhal after here.

A PRENTIS whilom dwelt in our citce,
And of a craft of vitaillers was he:
Gaillard he was as goldfinch in the shawe,
Bronne as a bery, a propre fhort felawe,
With lokkes blake kembed ful fetifly:
Dancen he coude fo wel and jolily,
That he was cleped Perkin Revelour:
He was as ful of love and paramour
As is the hive ful of honey fwete;
Wel was the wenche with him mighte mete.

The defcription of an unthrifty prentice given to dice. women, and wine, waiting thereby his matter's goods, and purchafing to himfelf Newgate. The mott part of this Tale is loft, or never finished by the Author.

At every bridale would he fing and hoppe; He loved bet the taverne than the fhoppe; For whan ther any riding was in Chepe Out of the fhoppe thider wold he lepe, And til that he had all the fight yfein, And danced wel, he wold not come agein; And gadred him a meinie of his fort To hoppe and fing, and maken swiche disport; And ther they fetten steven for to mete To plain at the dice in fwiche a strete; For in the Toun ne was ther no prentis That fairer coude cafte a pair of dis Than Perkin coude, and thereto he was fre Of his difpence, in place of privetee;