With us ther was a DOCTOUR OF PHISIK;
In al this world ne was ther noon hym lik,
415 To speke of phisik and of surgerye,
For he was grounded in astronomye.
He kepte his pacient a ful greet deel
In houres, by his magyk natureel.
Wel koude he fortunen the ascendent
420 Of his ymages for his pacient.
He knew the cause of everich maladye,
Were it of hoot, or coold, or moyste, or drye,
And where they engendred, and of what humour.
He was a verray parfit praktisour:
425 The cause yknowe, and of his harm the roote,
Anon he yaf the sike man his boote.
Ful redy hadde he hise apothecaries
To sende him drogges and his letuaries,
For ech of hem made oother for to wynne-
430 Hir frendshipe nas nat newe to bigynne.
Wel knew he the olde Esculapius,
And Deyscorides and eek Rufus,
Olde Ypocras, Haly, and Galyen,
Serapioun, Razis, and Avycen,
435 Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn,
Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn.
Of his diete mesurable was he,
For it was of no superfluitee,
But of greet norissyng, and digestible.
440 His studie was but litel on the Bible.
In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al,
Lyned with taffata and with sendal;
And yet he was but esy of dispence;
He kepte that he wan in pestilence.
445 For gold in phisik is a cordial,
Therfore he lovede gold in special.


       With us there was a DOCTOR OF MEDICINE;
In all this world there was none like him
415 To speak of medicine and surgery;
For he was instructed in astronomy.
He cared for and saved a patient many times
By natural science and studying astrological signs.
Well could he calculate the planetary position
420 To improve the state his patient is in.
He knew the cause of every sickness,
Whether it brings heat or cold, moisture or dryness,
And where engendered, and of what humour;
He was a very good practitioner.
425 The cause being known, the root of the malady,
At once he gave to the sick man his remedy.
Prepared he was, with his apothecaries,
To send him drugs and all electuaries;
By mutual aid much gold they'd always won-
430 Their friendship was a thing not new begun.
Well he knew the old Esculapius,
And Deiscorides, and also Rufus,
Old Hippocrates, Hali, and Galen,
Serapion, Rhazes, and Avicen,
435 Averroes, Gilbertus, and Constantine,
Bernard and Gatisden, and John Damascene.
In diet he was modest as could be,
No one could blame him of superfluity,
But greatly nourishing and digestible.
440 His study was but little on the Bible.
Blue and scarlet his clothes were therewithal,
Lined with taffeta and with sendal;
And yet he was right careful of expense;
He kept the gold he gained from pestilence.
445 Since gold in physic is a cordial,
Therefore he loved his gold exceeding all.

       A good WIF was ther, OF biside BATHE,
But she was somdel deef, and that was scathe.
Of clooth-makyng she hadde swich an haunt,
450 She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt.
In al the parisshe wif ne was ther noon
That to the offrynge bifore hire sholde goon;
And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she,
That she was out of alle charitee.
455 Hir coverchiefs ful fyne weren of ground;
I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound
That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed.
Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,
Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and newe.
460 Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.
She was a worthy womman al hir lyve:
Housbondes at chirche dore she hadde fyve,
Withouthen oother compaignye in youthe, -
But therof nedeth nat to speke as nowthe.
465 And thries hadde she been at Jerusalem;
She hadde passed many a straunge strem;
At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne,
In Galice at Seint-Jame, and at Coloigne.
She koude muchel of wandrynge by the weye.
470 Gat-tothed was she, soothly for to seye.
Upon an amblere esily she sat,
Ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hat
As brood as is a bokeler or a targe;
A foot-mantel aboute hir hipes large,
475 And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe.
In felaweshipe wel koude she laughe and carpe.
Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce,
For she koude of that art the olde daunce.


       There was a WIFE of BATH, or a near city,
Who was somewhat deaf, it is a pity.
At making clothes she had a skillful hand
450 She bettered those of Ypres and of Ghent.
In all the parish there was no wife to go
And proceed her in offering, it is so;
And if one did, indeed, so angry was she
It put her out of all her charity.
455 Her head-dresses were of finest weave and ground;
I dare swear that they weighed about ten pound
Which, on a Sunday, she wore on her head.
Her stockings were of the finest scarlet red,
Tightly fastened, and her shoes were soft and new.
460 Bold was her face, and fair, and red of hue.
She'd been respectable throughout her life,
Married in church, husbands she had five,
Not counting other company in youth;
But thereof there's no need to speak, in truth.
465 Three times she'd travelled to Jerusalem;
And many a foreign stream she'd had to stem;
At Rome she'd been, and she'd been in Boulogne,
In Spain at Santiago, and at Cologne.
She could tell much of wandering by the way:
470 Gap-toothed was she, it is the truth I say.
Upon a pacing horse easily she sat,
Wearing a large wimple, and over all a hat
As broad as is a buckler or a targe;
An overskirt was tucked around her buttocks large,
475 And her feet spurred sharply under that.
In company well could she laugh and chat.
The remedies of love she knew, perchance,
For of that art she'd learned the old, old dance.

       A good man was ther of religioun,
480 And was a povre PERSOUN OF A TOUN,
But riche he was of hooly thoght and werk.
He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche;
His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.
485 Benynge he was, and wonder diligent,
And in adversitee ful pacient,
And swich he was ypreved ofte sithes.
Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes,
But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute,
490 Unto his povre parisshens aboute
Of his offryng and eek of his substaunce.
He koude in litel thyng have suffisaunce.
Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder,
But he ne lefte nat, for reyn ne thonder,
495 In siknesse nor in meschief to visite
The ferreste in his parisshe, muche and lite,
Upon his feet, and in his hand a staf.
This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf,
That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte.
500 Out of the gosple he tho wordes caughte,
And this figure he added eek therto,
That if gold ruste, what shal iren do?
For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste,
No wonder is a lewed man to ruste;
505 And shame it is, if a prest take keep,
A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep.
Wel oghte a preest ensample for to yive,
By his clennesse, how that his sheep sholde lyve.
He sette nat his benefice to hyre
510 And leet his sheep encombred in the myre
And ran to Londoun unto Seinte Poules
To seken hym a chaunterie for soules,
Or with a bretherhed to been witholde;
But dwelt at hoom, and kepte wel his folde,
515 So that the wolf ne made it nat myscarie;
He was a shepherde and noght a mercenarie.
And though he hooly were and vertuous,
He was to synful men nat despitous,
Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne,
520 But in his techyng discreet and benygne;
To drawen folk to hevene by fairnesse,
By good ensample, this was his bisynesse.
But it were any persone obstinat,
What so he were, of heigh or lough estat,
525 Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys.
A bettre preest I trowe, that nowher noon ys.
He waited after no pompe and reverence,
Ne maked him a spiced conscience,
But Cristes loore, and Hise apostles twelve
530 He taughte, but first he folwed it hymselve.


       A good man was there of religion,
480 He was a poor COUNTRY PARSON,
But rich he was in holy thought and work.
He was a learned man also, a clerk,
Who Christ's own gospel truly sought to preach;
Devoutly his parishioners would he teach.
485 Gracious he was and wondrously diligent,
Patient in adversity and well content,
Many times thus proven had he
He excommunicated not to force a fee,
But rather would he give, there is no doubt,
490 Unto his poor parishioners about,
Some of his income, even of his property.
He could in little find sufficiency.
Wide was his parish, houses far asunder,
But never did he fail, for rain or thunder,
495 In sickness, or in sin, or any state,
To visit the farthest, regardless their financial state,
Going by foot, and in his hand, a stave.
This fine example to his flock he gave,
That first he wrought and afterwards he taught;
500 Out of the gospel then that text he caught,
And this metaphor he added thereunto -
That, if gold would rust, what shall iron do?
For if the priest be foul, in whom we trust,
No wonder that a layman thinks of lust?
505 And shame it is, if priest take thought for keep,
A shitty shepherd, looking after clean sheep.
A trully good example a priest should give,
Is his own chastity, how his flock should live.
He never let his benefice for hire,
510 And leave his sheep encumbered in the mire,
And ran to London, up to old Saint Paul's
To get himself a chantry there for souls,
Nor in some fraternity did he withhold;
But dwelt at home and kept so well the fold
515 That never wolf could make his plans miscarry;
He was a shepherd and not mercenary.
And holy though he was, and virtuous,
To sinners he was not impiteous,
Nor haughty in his speech, nor too divine,
520 But in all teaching courteous and benign.
To lead folk into Heaven by means of gentleness
By good example was his business.
But if some sinful one proved obstinate,
Whoever, of high or low financial state,
525 He put to sharp rebuke, to say the least.
I think there never was a better priest.
He had no thirst for pomp or ceremony,
Nor spiced his conscience and morality,
But Christ's own law, and His apostles' twelve
530 He taught, but first he followed it himselve.

       With hym ther was a PLOWMAN, was his brother,
That hadde ylad of dong ful many a fother;
A trewe swynkere and a good was he,
Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee.
535 God loved he best with al his hoole herte
At alle tymes, thogh him gamed or smerte,
And thanne his neighebor right as hym-selve.
He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve,
For Cristes sake, for every povre wight
540 Withouten hire, if it lay in his myght.
Hise tithes payed he ful faire and wel,
Bothe of his propre swynk and his catel.
In a tabard he rood, upon a mere.


        With him there was a PLOWMAN, his brother,
That loaded many carts with dung, and many other
Had transported; a true worker was he,
Living in peace and perfect charity.
535 He loved God most, and that with his whole heart
At all times, whether it was easy or hard,
And next, his neighbour, even as himself.
He'd thresh and dig, and never thought of wealth,
For Christ's own sake, for every person poor,
540 Without payment, if his power could assure.
He paid his taxes, fully, when it was due,
Both by his toil and possessions he'd sell too.
In a tabard he rode upon a mare.

        Ther was also a REVE and a MILLERE,
545 A SOMNOUR and a PARDONER also,
A MAUNCIPLE, and myself - ther were namo.
       The MILLERE was a stout carl for the nones;
Ful byg he was of brawn and eek of bones-
That proved wel, for over al ther he cam
550 At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram.
He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre,
Ther was no dore that he nolde heve of harre,
Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed.
His berd as any sowe or fox was reed,
555 And therto brood, as though it were a spade.
Upon the cop right of his nose he hade
A werte, and thereon stood a toft of herys,
Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys;
Hise nosethirles blake were and wyde.
560 A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde.
His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys.
He was a janglere and a goliardeys,
And that was moost of synne and harlotries.
Wel koude he stelen corn, and tollen thries;
565 And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.
A whit cote and a blew hood wered he.
A baggepipe wel koude he blowe and sowne,
And therwithal he broghte us out of towne.



       A REEVE and a MILLER were also there;
545 A SUMMONER, MANCIPLE and PARDONER,
All these, beside myself, there were no more.
       The MILLER was a strong fellow, be it known,
Hardy, big of brawn and big of bone;
Which was well proved, for wherever a festive day
550 At wrestling, he always took the prize away.
He was stoutly built, broad and heavy;
He lifted each door from its hinges, that easy,
Or break it through, by running, with his head.
His beard, as any sow or fox, was red,
555 And broad it was as if it were a spade.
Upon his nose right on the top he had
A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs,
Red as the bristles in an old sow's ears;
His nostrils they were black and wide.
560 A sword and buckler he carried by his side.
His mouth was like a furnace door for size.
He was a jester and knew some poetry,
But mostly all of sin and obscenity.
He could steal corn and three times charge his fee;
565 And yet indeed he had a thumb of gold.
A blue hood he wore and a white coat;
A bagpipe he could blow well, up and down,
And with that same he brought us out of town.

       A gentil MAUNCIPLE was ther of a temple,
570 Of which achatours myghte take exemple
For to be wise in byynge of vitaille;
For wheither that he payde or took by taille,
Algate he wayted so in his achaat
That he was ay biforn, and in good staat.
575 Now is nat that of God a ful fair grace,
That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace
The wisdom of an heep of lerned men?
Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten,
That weren of lawe expert and curious,
580 Of whiche ther weren a duszeyne in that hous
Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond
Of any lord that is in Engelond,
To maken hym lyve by his propre good,
In honour dettelees (but if he were wood),
585 Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire,
And able for to helpen al a shire
In any caas that myghte falle or happe-
And yet this Manciple sette hir aller cappe.


       The MANCIPLE was from the Inner Temple,
570 To whom all buyers might think of as an example
To learn the art of buying victuals;
Cash or credit, he knew all the rituals,
That he knew the markets, watched them closely,
And found himself ahead, he did quit nicely.
575 Now is it not of God's very fair grace
That such a vulgar man has wit to pace
The wisdom of a crowd of learned men?
Of masters had he more than three times ten,
Who were in law expert and curious;
580 Whereof there were a dozen in that house
Fit to be stewards of both rent and land
Of any lord in England who would stand
To make him live by his own wealth and fee,
In honour, debtless (unless his head was crazy),
585 Or live as economically as he might desire;
These men were able to have helped a shire
In any case that ever might occur;
And yet this manciple covered their sight with blur.

       The REVE was a sclendre colerik man.
590 His berd was shave as ny as ever he kan;
His heer was by his erys ful round yshorn;
His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn.
Ful longe were his legges, and ful lene,
Ylyk a staf, ther was no calf ysene.
595 Wel koude he kepe a gerner and a bynne;
Ther was noon auditour koude on him wynne.
Wel wiste he by the droghte and by the reyn,
The yeldynge of his seed and of his greyn.
His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayerye,
600 His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye,
Was hoolly in this Reves governynge,
And by his covenant yaf the rekenynge,
Syn that his lord was twenty yeer of age,
Ther koude no man brynge hym in arrerage.
605 Ther nas baillif, ne hierde, nor oother hyne,
That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne;
They were adrad of hym as of the deeth.
His wonyng was ful faire upon an heeth;
With grene trees shadwed was his place.
610 He koude bettre than his lord purchace.
Ful riche he was astored pryvely:
His lord wel koude he plesen subtilly,
To yeve and lene hym of his owene good,
And have a thank, and yet a cote and hood.
615 In youthe he hadde lerned a good myster;
He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter.
This Reve sat upon a ful good stot,
That was al pomely grey, and highte Scot.
A long surcote of pers upon he hade,
620 And by his syde he baar a rusty blade.
Of Northfolk was this Reve, of which I telle,
Bisyde a toun men clepen Baldeswelle.
Tukked he was as is a frere aboute,
And evere he rood the hyndreste of oure route.


       The REEVE was a slender choleric man
590 Who shaved his beard as close as ever he can.
His hair was closely cropped around his ears;
His head, the top was cut alike a pulpiteer's.
Long were his legs, and they were very lean,
And like a staff, with no calf to be seen.
595 Well could he manage granary and bin;
No auditor could ever find anything.
He could foretell, by drought and by the rain,
The yielding of his seed and of his grain.
His lord's sheep and his cattle and his dairy cows,
600 His swine and horses, his stores, his poultry house,
Were wholly in the Reve his managing;
And, by agreement, he'd gave reckoning
Since his young lord of age was twenty years;
Yet no man ever found him in arrears.
605 There was no agent, herd, or servant who'd cheat;
He knew too well their cunning and deceit;
They were afraid of him as of the death.
His cottage was a good one, on a heath;
By green trees shaded was his dwelling-place.
610 Much better than his lord could he purchase.
Very rich and well he was provided all secretly,
He knew well how to please his lord subtly,
By giving him, or lending, of his own goods,
And so got thanked - but yet got coats and hoods.
615 In youth he'd learned a good trade, and had been
A carpenter, good skillful and keen.
This Reve sat on a horse that could well trot,
And was all dapple grey, and was named Scot.
A long surcoat of blue did he parade,
620 And at his side he bore a rusty blade.
Of Norfolk was this Reeve of whom I tell,
From near a town that men call Badeswell.
His coat was like a friar's tightly closed,
From our company he rode always hindmost.

625        A SOMONOUR was ther with us in that place,
That hadde a fyr-reed cherubynnes face,
For saucefleem he was, with eyen narwe.
As hoot he was and lecherous as a sparwe,
With scalled browes blake, and piled berd,
630 Of his visage children were aferd.
Ther nas quyk-silver, lytarge, ne brymstoon,
Boras, ceruce, ne oille of tartre noon,
Ne oynement, that wolde clense and byte,
That hym myghte helpen of his whelkes white,
635 Nor of the knobbes sittynge on his chekes.
Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes,
And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood;
Thanne wolde he speke and crie as he were wood.
And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn,
640 Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn.
A fewe termes hadde he, two or thre,
That he had lerned out of som decree-
No wonder is, he herde it al the day,
And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay
645 Kan clepen "Watte" as wel as kan the pope.
But whoso koude in oother thyng hym grope,
Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophie;
Ay "Questio quid iuris" wolde he crie.
He was a gentil harlot and a kynde;
650 A bettre felawe sholde men noght fynde;
He wolde suffre, for a quart of wyn,
A good felawe to have his concubyn
A twelf-monthe, and excuse hym atte fulle;
Ful prively a fynch eek koude he pulle.
655 And if he foond owher a good felawe,
He wolde techen him to have noon awe,
In swich caas, of the ercedekenes curs,
But if a mannes soule were in his purs;
For in his purs he sholde ypunysshed be.
660 "Purs is the erchedekenes helle," seyde he.
But wel I woot he lyed right in dede;
Of cursyng oghte ech gilty man him drede,
For curs wol slee, right as assoillyng savith,
And also war him of a Significavit.
665 In daunger hadde he at his owene gise
The yonge girles of the diocise,
And knew hir conseil, and was al hir reed.
A gerland hadde he set upon his heed
As greet as it were for an ale-stake;
670 A bokeleer hadde he maad him of a cake.


625        A SUMMONER was with us in that place,
Who had a fiery-red, cherubic face,
All pimpled it was; his eyes were narrow
As hot he was, and lecherous, as a sparrow;
With black and scabby brows and scanty beard;
630 He had a face that little children feared.
There was no mercury, sulphur, or litharge,
No borax, ceruse, tartar, could discharge,
Nor ointment that could cleanse enough, or bite,
To free him of his boils and pimples white,
635 Nor of the knobs located on his cheeks.
Well loved he garlic, onions, and also leeks,
And drink strong blood red wine untill dizzy.
Then would he talk and shout as if he's crazy.
And when a deal of wine he'd taken in,
640 Then would he utter no word except Latin.
Some phrases had he learned, say two or three,
Which he had learned out of some decree;
No wonder, he had heard it all the day;
And all you know right well that even a jay
645 Can call out "Walter" better than the Pope.
But if, to try his wits in him you'd grope,
'Twas found he'd spent his whole philosophy;
Always "Questio quid juris" would he cry.
He was a noble rascal, and a kind;
650 A better comrade would be hard to find.
Why, he would suffer, for a quart of wine,
Some good fellow to have his concubine
A twelve-month, and excuse him to the full
(Secretly, though he knew how a trick to pull).
655 And if he found somewhere a good fellow,
He would instruct him never to have awe,
In such a case, of the archdeacon's curse,
Unless a man's soul were within his purse;
For in his purse the man should punished be.
660 "The purse is the archdeacon's hell," said he.
But well I know he lied in what he said;
A curse ought every guilty man to dread
(For curse can kill, as absolution save),
And also be aware of Significavit.
665 In his own power had he, and at ease,
Young people of the entire diocese,
And knew their secrets, they did what he said.
A garland had he set upon his head,
Large as a tavern's road sign on a stake;
670 He'd made himself a buckler from a cake.

alandelong：中古英语整体上已经很接近现代英语了

但还是有不少中古英语的单词看上去更象德语，很有意思回到原帖

也不完全是，Canterbury是Chaucer寫的文章，Chaucer是中古晚期作家，自然，語言風格以及正字法已經較先前更接近現代英文，中古早期的作品雖然不多，但是中古早期的文風以及語言結構跟古盎格魯撒克遜差距不會那麽大，語言變化需要一個過程，早期的中古和晚期中古的區別還是很大的，另外需要説的是，Chaucer本人是倫敦人，寫作用的是東Midlands方言，東Midlands方言也是形成現代標準英語的重要方言之一，如果你去看中古其他作家的作品，就不一定能跟讀Chaucer作品那樣順暢了，哪怕是Chaucer的作品，依然有很多詞語以及表達是跟現代英語不一樣的，而且Chaucer的英語比現代英語還保留了更多的屈折變化

       With hym ther rood a gentil PARDONER
Of Rouncivale, his freend and his compeer,
That streight was comen fro the court of Rome.
Ful loude he soong "Com hider, love, to me!"
675 This Somonour bar to hym a stif burdoun;
Was nevere trompe of half so greet a soun.
This Pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex,
But smothe it heeng as dooth a strike of flex;
By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde,
680 And therwith he hise shuldres overspradde;
But thynne it lay by colpons oon and oon.
But hood, for jolitee, wered he noon,
For it was trussed up in his walet.
Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet;
685 Dischevelee, save his cappe, he rood al bare.
Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare.
A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe.
His walet lay biforn hym in his lappe
Bretful of pardoun come from Rome al hoot.
690 A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot,
No berd hadde he, ne nevere sholde have;
As smothe it was as it were late shave,
I trowe he were a geldyng or a mare.
But of his craft, from Berwyk into Ware,
695 Ne was ther swich another pardoner;
For in his male he hadde a pilwe-beer,
Which that he seyde was Oure Lady veyl:
He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl
That Seint Peter hadde, whan that he wente
700 Upon the see, til Jesu Crist hym hente.
He hadde a croys of latoun ful of stones,
And in a glas he hadde pigges bones.
But with thise relikes, whan that he fond
A povre persoun dwellyng upon lond,
705 Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye
Than that the person gat in monthes tweye;
And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes,
He made the persoun and the peple his apes.
But trewely to tellen atte laste,
710 He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste.
Wel koude he rede a lessoun or a storie,
But alderbest he song an offertorie;
For wel he wiste, whan that song was songe,
He moste preche, and wel affile his tonge
715 To wynne silver, as he ful wel koude;
Therfore he song the murierly and loude.


       With him there rode a noble PARDONER
Of Rouncival, his friend and his compeer;
Straight from the court of Rome had journeyed he.
Loudly he sang "Come hither, love, to me,"
675 The summoner added a strong bass to his song;
No horn ever sounded half so strong.
This pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,
But smooth it hung as does a strike of flax;
In driplets hung his locks behind his head,
680 Down to his shoulders which they overspread;
But thin they dropped, these strings, all one by one.
He had no hood, it was for sport and fun,
Though it was packed in knapsack all the while.
It seemed to him he rode in latest style,
685 With unbound hair, except his cap, head all bare.
As shiny eyes he had as has a hare.
He had a fine Veronica sewed to his cap.
His knapsack lay before him in his lap,
Stuffed full with pardons brought from Rome all hot.
690 A voice he had that sounded like a goat.
No beard had he, nor ever should he have,
For smooth his face as he'd just had a shave;
I think he was a gelding or a mare.
But in his craft, from Berwick unto Ware,
695 Was no such pardoner of equal grace.
For in his bag he had a pillow-case
Of which he said, it was Our True Lady's veil:
He said he had a piece of the very sail
That good Saint Peter had, on time he sailed
700 Upon the sea, till Jesus him had hailed.
He had a latten cross set full of stones,
And in a bottle had he some pig's bones.
But with these relics, when he found on ride
Some simple parson dwelling in the countryside,
705 In that one day gathered more money
Than the parson in two months, that easy.
And thus, with flattery and equal japes,
He made the parson and the rest his apes.
But yet, to tell the whole truth at the last,
710 He was, in church, a fine ecclesiast.
Well could he read a lesson or a story,
But best of all he sang an offertory;
For he knew well that when that song was sung,
Then must he preach, and all with smoothened tongue.
715 To gain some silver, preferably from the crowd;
Therefore he sang so merrily and so loud.

Ethelred：也不完全是，Canterbury是Chaucer寫的文章，Chaucer是中古晚期作家，自然，語言風格以及正字法已經較先前更接近現代英文，中古早期的作品雖然不多，但是中古早期的文風以及語言結構跟古盎格魯撒克遜差距不會那麽大，語言變化需要一個...回到原帖

恩那，这只是我一个笼统的感觉。有些单词意思差距是很大的。另外扯到方言的话，确实就更麻烦了。
还由于是诗歌体，有些句子顺序也应该不如散文自然。

       Now have I toold you shortly in a clause,
Th'estaat, th'array, the nombre, and eek the cause
Why that assembled was this compaignye
720 In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelrye
That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle.
But now is tyme to yow for to telle
How that we baren us that ilke nyght,
Whan we were in that hostelrie alyght;
725 And after wol I telle of our viage
And all the remenaunt of oure pilgrimage.
But first I pray yow, of youre curteisye,
That ye n'arette it nat my vileynye,
Thogh that I pleynly speke in this mateere,
730 To telle yow hir wordes and hir cheere,
Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely.
For this ye knowen also wel as I,
Whoso shal telle a tale after a man,
He moot reherce as ny as evere he kan
735 Everich a word, if it be in his charge,
Al speke he never so rudeliche or large,
Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe,
Or feyne thyng, or fynde wordes newe.
He may nat spare, al thogh he were his brother;
740 He moot as wel seye o word as another.
Crist spak hymself ful brode in hooly writ,
And, wel ye woot, no vileynye is it.
Eek Plato seith, whoso kan hym rede,
The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede.
745 Also I prey yow to foryeve it me,
Al have I nat set folk in hir degree
Heere in this tale, as that they sholde stonde.
My wit is short, ye may wel understonde.


       Now have I told you briefly, in a clause,
The state, the array, the number, and the cause
Of the assembling of this company
720 In Southwark, at this noble hostelry
Known as the Tabard Inn, closely to the Bell.
But now the time has come wherein to tell
How we conducted ourselves that very night
When at the hostelry we did alight.
725 And afterward the story I begin
To tell you of our pilgrimage we're in.
But first, I beg, address your courtesy,
You'll not ascribe it to vulgarity
Though I speak plainly of this matter here,
730 Explain to you their words and means of cheer;
Nor though I use their very terms, nor lie.
For this thing do you know as well as I:
When one repeats a tale told by a man,
He must report, as closely as he can,
735 Every single word, as he remembers it,
How vulgar it be, or how unfit;
Or else he may be telling what's untrue,
Embellishing, even making up things too.
He may not spare, although it were his brother;
740 He must as well say one word as another.
Christ spoke very plainly, in holy writ,
And, you know well, there's nothing rude in it.
And Plato says, to those able to read:
"The word should be the cousin to the deed."
745 Also, I beg that you'll forgive it me
If I have not set folk, in their degree
Here in this tale, by rank as they should stand.
My wit is short, as you'll well understand.


       Greet chiere made oure Hoost us everichon,
750 And to the soper sette he us anon.
He served us with vitaille at the beste;
Strong was the wyn, and wel to drynke us leste.
A semely man OURE HOOSTE was withalle
For to been a marchal in an halle.
755 A large man he was, with eyen stepe -
A fairer burgeys was ther noon in Chepe -
Boold of his speche, and wys, and well ytaught,
And of manhod hym lakkede right naught.
Eek therto he was right a myrie man,
760 And after soper pleyen he bigan,
And spak of myrthe amonges othere thynges,
Whan that we hadde maad our rekenynges,
And seyde thus: "Now lordynges, trewely,
Ye been to me right welcome hertely;
765 For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye,
I saugh nat this yeer so myrie a compaignye
Atones in this herberwe, as is now.
Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste I how.
And of a myrthe I am right now bythoght,
770 To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght.


       Great fun our host provided, every one,
750 Was set and the supper straightway begun;
And served us then with victuals of the best.
Strong was the wine and pleasant to each guest.
A seemly man our good host was, withal,
And fit to be a marshal in a hall;
755 A large man he was, with piercing eyes,
As fine a burgher as in Cheapside lies;
Bold in his speech, and wise, and fairly taught,
And as to manhood, lacking there was not.
Moreover, he's a very merry man,
760 And after dinner, with playing he began,
And spoke of mirth among some other things,
When all of us had paid our reckonings;
And saying thus: "Now my lords, truly
You are all welcome here, and heartily:
765 On my word, I'm telling you no lie,
I have not seen, this year, a company
Here in this inn, fitter for sport than now.
Fain I'd make you happy, if I'd knew how.
And of a game have I this moment thought
770 To give you joy, and it shall cost you not.


       Ye goon to Caunterbury - God yow speede,
The blisful martir quite yow youre meede!
And wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye,
Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye,
775 For trewely, confort ne myrthe is noon
To ride by the weye doumb as stoon;
And therfore wol I maken yow disport,
As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort.
And if yow liketh alle by oon assent
780 For to stonden at my juggement,
And for to werken as I shal yow seye,
To-morwe, whan ye riden by the weye,
Now, by my fader soule that is deed,
But ye be myrie, I wol yeve yow myn heed!
785 Hoold up youre hond, withouten moore speche."


       "You go to Canterbury; may God speed
And the blest martyr listens to your need.
And well I know, as you go on your way,
You'll tell good tales and shape yourselves to play;
775 For truly there's no mirth nor comfort, none,
Riding the roads as dumb as is a stone;
And therefore I provide to you a sport,
As I just said, to give you some comfort.
And if you like it all, unanimously,
780 Accept my judgement, submit yourselves, agree
And will so do as I'll proceed to say,
Tomorrow, when you ride upon your way,
Then, by my father's spirit, who is dead,
If you're not merry, I will give you my head.
785 Hold up your hands, nor more about it speak."

       Oure conseil was nat longe for to seche.
Us thoughte it was noght worth to make it wys,
And graunted hym, withouten moore avys,
And bad him seye his voirdit, as hym leste.
790 "Lordynges," quod he, "now herkneth for the beste;
But taak it nought, I prey yow, in desdeyn.
This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn,
That ech of yow, to shorte with oure weye,
In this viage shal telle tales tweye
795 To Caunterbury-ward I mene it so,
And homward he shal tellen othere two,
Of aventures that whilom han bifalle.
And which of yow that bereth hym best of alle,
That is to seyn, that telleth in this caas
800 Tales of best sentence and moost solaas,
Shal have a soper at oure aller cost
Heere in this place, sittynge by this post,
Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury.
And for to make yow the moore mury,
805 I wol myselven goodly with yow ryde
Right at myn owene cost, and be youre gyde;
And who so wole my juggement withseye
Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye.
And if ye vouche sauf that it be so,
810 Tel me anon, withouten wordes mo,
And I wol erly shape me therfore."


       Our decision was not so far to seek;
We thought there was no reason to debate,
And granted him his way at any rate,
And asked him tell his verdict just and wise,
790 "Masters," said he, "listen to my advice;
But take it not, I pray you, in disdain;
This is the point, to put it short and plain,
That each of you, as if to shorten the day,
Shall tell two stories as you wend your way
795 To Canterbury town; and each of you
On coming home, shall tell another two,
About adventures that happened in the past.
And he who plays his part of all the best,
That is to say, who tells upon the road
800 Tales of best sense, in most amusing mode,
Shall have a supper at all others' cost
Here in this room and sitting by this post,
When we come back again from Canterbury.
And now, the more to make sure you'll be merry,
805 I will myself, and gladly, with you ride
At my own cost, and I will be your guide.
But whosoever will and tries to disobey
Shall pay for all that's bought along the way.
And if you grant, agree it will be so,
810 Tell me at once, or if not, tell me no,
And I will get ready early. No more."

       This thyng was graunted, and oure othes swore
With ful glad herte, and preyden hym also
That he wolde vouche sauf for to do so,
815 And that he wolde been oure governour,
And of our tales juge and reportour,
And sette a soper at a certeyn pris,
And we wol reuled been at his devys
In heigh and lough; and thus by oon assent
820 We been acorded to his juggement.
And therupon the wyn was fet anon;
We dronken, and to reste wente echon,
Withouten any lenger taryynge.


       This thing was granted, and our oaths we swore,
With right glad hearts, and prayed of him, also,
That he would take the office, nor forgo
815 The place of governor of all of us,
Judging our tales; and by his wisdom thus
Arrange that supper at a certain price,
We to be ruled, each one, by his advice
In every respect; unanimously thus,
820 We accepted his judgment over us.
And thereupon, the wine was fetched immediately;
We drank, and went to rest ultimately,
And that without a longer tarrying.

       Amorwe, whan that day bigan to sprynge,
825 Up roos oure Hoost, and was oure aller cok,
And gadrede us to gidre alle in a flok,
And forth we riden, a litel moore than paas
Unto the wateryng of Seint Thomas;
And there oure Hoost bigan his hors areste
830 And seyde, "Lordynges, herkneth if yow leste.
Ye woot youre foreward, and I it yow recorde.
If even-song and morwe-song accorde,
Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale.
As evere mote I drynke wyn or ale,
835 Whoso be rebel to my juggement
Shal paye for al that by the wey is spent.
Now draweth cut, er that we ferrer twynne,
He which that hath the shorteste shal bigynne.
Sire Knyght," quod he, "my mayster and my lord,
840 Now draweth cut, for that is myn accord.
Cometh neer," quod he, "my lady Prioresse,
And ye, Sir Clerk, lat be youre shamefastnesse,
Ne studieth noght; ley hond to, every man!"
Anon to drawen every wight bigan,
845 And shortly for to tellen as it was,
Were it by aventure, or sort, or cas,
The sothe is this, the cut fil to the Knyght,
Of which ful blithe and glad was every wyght.
And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun,
850 By foreward and by composicioun,-
As ye han herd, what nedeth wordes mo?
And whan this goode man saugh that it was so,
As he that wys was and obedient
To kepe his foreward by his free assent,
855 He seyde, "Syn I shal bigynne the game,
What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name!
Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye."
And with that word we ryden forth oure weye,
And he bigan with right a myrie cheere
860 His tale anon, and seyde as ye may heere.


       Next morning, when the day began to spring,
825 Up rose our host, and acting as our cock,
He gathered us together in a flock,
And forth we rode, a a little faster than pace,
Until we reached Saint Thomas' watering-place.
Our host then pulled his horse, began to ease
830 And said: "Now, gentleman, listen if you please.
You know what you agreed, I'll remind thee.
If even-song and morning-song agree,
Let's here decide who first shall tell a tale.
And as I hope to drink more wine and ale,
835 Whoso proves rebel to my very judgment
Shall pay for all that by the way is spent.
Come now, draw straws, before we further depart,
And he that draws the shortest has to start.
Sir knight," said he, "my master and my lord,
840 You shall draw first as you have pledged your word.
Come near," said he, "my lady prioress:
And you, sir clerk, away with all your shyness,
Nor ponder more; out hands, draw, every man!"
At once to draw a straw each one began,
845 And, to shorten up the story, as it was,
By chance or luck or whatsoever cause,
The truth is, that the cut fell to the knight,
Which all the others greeted with delight.
Thus tell his story first as was agreed,
850 According to our promise pledged, indeed,
As you have heard. Why argue to and fro?
And when this good man saw that it was so,
Being a wise man and obedient
To pledged word, given by free assent,
855 He said: "Since I must then begin the game,
Why, welcome be the cut, and in God's name!
Now let us ride, and listen to what I say."
And at that word we rode forth on our way;
And he began to speak, with words of cheer,
860 His tale straightway, and said as you may hear.

终于把序言部分看完了

The Knight's Tale
lines 1-34: About Duke Theseus, lord of Athens, and his achievements




      Whilom, as olde stories tellen us,
Ther was a duc that highte Theseus;
Of Atthenes he was lord and governour,
And in his tyme swich a conquerour,
5 That gretter was ther noon under the sonne.
Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne,
What with his wysdom and his chivalrie;
He conquered al the regne of Femenye,
That whilom was ycleped Scithia,
10 And weddede the queene Ypolita,
And broghte hir hoom with hym in his contree,
With muchel glorie and greet solempnytee,
And eek hir yonge suster Emelye.
And thus with victorie and with melodye
15 Lete I this noble duc to Atthenes ryde,
And al his hoost, in armes hym bisyde.


      Once on a time, as old stories tell to us,
There was a duke whose name was Theseus:
Of Athens he was lord and governor,
And in his time was such a conqueror
5 That greater was there not beneath the sun.
Very many rich countries had he won;
What with his wisdom and his chivalry
He gained the realm of Femininity,
That was of old time known as Scythia.
10 There he married the queen, Hippolyta,
And brought her home with him to his country.
In glory great and with great ceremony,
And, too, her younger sister, Emily.
And thus, in victory and with melody,
15 Let I this noble duke to Athens ride
With all his armed host marching at his side.


      And certes, if it nere to long to heere,
I wolde have toold yow fully the manere
How wonnen was the regne of Femenye
20 By Theseus, and by his chivalrye,
And of the grete bataille for the nones
Bitwixen Atthenes and Amazones,
And how asseged was Ypolita
The faire hardy queene of Scithia,
25 And of the feste that was at hir weddynge,
And of the tempest at hir hoom-comynge;
But al the thyng I moot as now forbere,
I have, God woot, a large feeld to ere,
And wayke been the oxen in my plough,
30 The remenant of the tale is long ynough.
I wol nat letten eek noon of this route,
Lat every felawe telle his tale aboute,
And lat se now who shal the soper wynne;-
And ther I lefte, I wol ayeyn bigynne.


      And truly, were it not too long to hear,
I would have told you fully how, that year,
Was gained the realm of Femininity
20 By Theseus and by his chivalry;
And all of the great battle that was wrought
Where Amazons and the Athenians fought;
And how was wooed and won Hippolyta,
That fair and hardy queen of Scythia;
25 And of the feast was made at their wedding,
And of the tempest at their home-coming;
But all of that I must for now forbear.
I have, God knows, a large field for my share,
And weak the oxen, and the soil is tough.
30 The remnant of the tale is long enough.
I will not hinder any, in my turn;
Let each man tell his tale, until we learn
Which of us all the most deserves to win;
So where I stopped, again I'll now begin.

35       This duc of whom I make mencioun,
Whan he was come almoost unto the toun,
In al his wele and in his mooste pride,
He was war, as he caste his eye aside,
Where that ther kneled in the hye weye
40 A compaignye of ladyes, tweye and tweye,
Ech after oother, clad in clothes blake;
But swich a cry and swich a wo they make,
That in this world nys creature lyvynge
That herde swich another waymentynge;
45 And of this cry they nolde nevere stenten,
Til they the reynes of his brydel henten.


35       This duke of whom I speak, of great renown,
When he had drawn almost unto the town,
In all well-being and in utmost pride,
He grew aware, casting his eyes aside,
That right upon the road, as suppliants do,
40 A company of ladies, two by two,
Knelt, all in black, before his cavalcade;
But such a clamorous cry of woe they made
That in the whole world living man had heard
No such a lamentation, on my word;
45 Nor would they cease lamenting till at last
They'd clutched his bridle reins and held them fast.


      "What folk been ye, that at myn hom-comynge
Perturben so my feste with criynge?"
Quod Theseus. "Have ye so greet envye
50 Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crye?
Or who hath yow mysboden or offended?
And telleth me if it may been amended,
And why that ye been clothed thus in blak?"


      "What folk are you that at my home-coming
Disturb my triumph with this dolorous thing?"
Cried Theseus. "Do you so much envy
50 My honour that you thus complain and cry?
Or who has wronged you now, or who offended?
Come, tell me whether it may be amended;
And tell me, why are you clothed thus, in black?"


      The eldeste lady of hem alle spak-
55 Whan she hadde swowned with a deedly cheere,
That it was routhe for to seen and heere-
And seyde, "Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven
Victorie, and as a conqueror to lyven,
Nat greveth us youre glorie and youre honour,
60 But we biseken mercy and socour.
Have mercy on oure wo and oure distresse,
Som drope of pitee thurgh thy gentillesse
Upon us wrecched wommen lat thou falle;
For certes, lord, ther is noon of us alle,
65 That she ne hath been a duchesse or a queene.
Now be we caytyves, as it is wel seene,
Thanked be Fortune, and hir false wheel,
That noon estaat assureth to be weel.
And certes, lord, to abyden youre presence,
70 Heere in the temple of the goddesse Clemence
We han ben waitynge al this fourtenyght;
Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy myght!


      The eldest lady of them answered back,
55 After she'd swooned, with cheek so deathly drear
That it was pitiful to see and hear,
And said, "Lord, to whom Fortune has but given
Victory, and to conquer where you've striven,
Your glory and your honour grieve not us;
60 But we beseech your aid and pity thus.
Have mercy on our woe and our distress.
Some drop of pity, of your gentleness,
Upon us wretched women, oh, let fall!
For see, lord, there is no one of us all
65 That has not been a duchess or a queen;
Now we are captives, as may well be seen:
Thanks be to Fortune and her treacherous wheel,
There's none can rest assured of constant weal.
And truly, lord, expecting your return,
70 In Pity's temple, where the fires yet burn,
We have been waiting through a long fortnight;
Now help us, lord, since it is in your might.


      I wrecche, which that wepe and waille thus,
Was whilom wyf to kyng Cappaneus,
75 That starf at Thebes -cursed be that day!-
And alle we that been in this array
And maken al this lamentacioun,
We losten alle oure housbondes at that toun,
Whil that the seege theraboute lay.
80 And yet now the olde Creon, weylaway!
That lord is now of Thebes the Citee,
Fulfild of ire and of iniquitee,
He, for despit and for his tirannye,
To do the dede bodyes vileynye,
85 Of alle oure lordes, whiche that been slawe,
Hath alle the bodyes on an heep ydrawe,
And wol nat suffren hem, by noon assent,
Neither to been yburyed nor ybrent,
But maketh houndes ete hem in despit."


      I, wretched woman, who am weeping thus,
Was once the wife of King Capaneus,
75 Who died at Thebes, oh, cursed be the day!
And all we that you see in this array,
And make this lamentation to be known,
All we have lost our husbands at that town
During the siege that round about it lay.
80 And now the old Creon, ah welaway!
The lord and governor of Thebes city,
Full of his wrath and all iniquity,
He, in despite and out of tyranny,
To do the dead a shame and villainy,
85 Of all our husbands, lying among the slain,
Has piled the bodies in a heap, amain,
And will not suffer them, nor give consent,
To buried be, or burned, nor will relent,
But sets his dogs to eat them, out of spite."


90       And with that word, withouten moore respit,
They fillen gruf, and criden pitously,
"Have on us wrecched wommen som mercy
And lat oure sorwe synken in thyn herte."


90       And on that word, at once, without respite,
They all fell prone and cried out piteously:
"Have on us wretched women some mercy,
And let our sorrows sink into your heart!"

      This gentil duc doun from his courser sterte
95 With herte pitous, whan he herde hem speke;
Hym thoughte that his herte wolde breke,
Whan he saugh hem so pitous and so maat,
That whilom weren of so greet estaat.
And in his armes he hem alle up hente,
100 And hem conforteth in ful good entente,
And swoor his ooth, as he was trewe knyght,
He wolde doon so ferforthly his myght
Upon the tiraunt Creon hem to wreke,
That all the peple of Grece sholde speke
105 How Creon was of Theseus yserved,
As he that hadde his deeth ful wel deserved.
And right anoon, withouten moore abood,
His baner he desplayeth, and forth rood
To Thebes-ward, and al his hoost biside,
110 No neer Atthenes wolde he go ne ride,
Ne take his ese fully half a day,
But onward on his wey that nyght he lay,
And sente anon Ypolita the queene,
And Emelye, hir yonge suster sheene,
115 Unto the toun of Atthenes to dwelle,
And forth he rit; ther is namoore to telle.


      This noble duke down from his horse did start
95 With heart of pity, when he'd heard them speak.
It seemed to him his heart must surely break,
Seeing them there so miserable of state,
Who had been proud and happy but so late.
And in his arms he took them tenderly,
100 Giving them comfort understandingly:
And swore his oath, that as he was true knight,
He would put forth so thoroughly his might
Against the tyrant Creon as to wreak
Vengeance so great that all of Greece should speak
105 And say how Creon was by Theseus served,
As one that had his death full well deserved.
This sworn and done, he no more there abode;
His banner he displayed and forth he rode
Toward Thebes, and all his host marched on beside;
110 Nor nearer Athens would he walk or ride,
Nor take his ease for even half a day,
But onward, and in camp that night he lay;
And thence he sent Hippolyta the queen
And her bright sister Emily, I ween,
115 Unto the town of Athens, there to dwell
While he went forth. There is no more to tell.

      The rede statue of Mars, with spere and targe,
So shyneth, in his white baner large,
That alle the feeldes gliteren up and doun,
120 And by his baner gorn is his penoun
Of gold ful riche, in which ther was ybete
The Mynotaur which that he slough in Crete.
Thus rit this duc, thus rit this conquerour,
And in his hoost of chivalrie the flour,
125 Til that he cam to Thebes, and alighte
Faire in a feeld, ther as he thoughte to fighte.
But shortly for to speken of this thyng,
With Creon, which that was of Thebes kyng,
He faught, and slough hym manly as a knyght
130 In pleyn bataille, and putte the folk to flyght;
And by assaut he wan the citee after,
And rente adoun bothe wall, and sparre, and rafter.
And to the ladyes he sestored agayn
The bones of hir freendes that weren slayn,
135 To doon obsequies as was tho the gyse.
But it were al to longe for to devyse
The grete clamour and the waymentynge
That the ladyes made at the brennynge
Of the bodies, and the grete honour
140 That Theseus, the noble conquerour,
Dooth to the ladyes, whan they from hym wente;
But shortly for to telle is myn entente.


      The image of red Mars, with spear and shield,
So shone upon his banner's snow-white field
It made a billowing glitter up and down;
120 And by the banner borne was his pennon,
On which in beaten gold was worked, complete,
The Minotaur, which he had slain in Crete.
Thus rode this duke, thus rode this conqueror,
And in his host of chivalry the flower,
125 Until he came to Thebes and did alight
Full in the field where he'd intent to fight.
But to be brief in telling of this thing,
With Creon, who was Thebes' dread lord and king,
He fought and slew him, manfully, like knight,
130 In open war, and put his host to flight;
And by assault he took the city then,
Levelling wall and rafter with his men;
And to the ladies he restored again
The bones of their poor husbands who were slain,
135 To do for them the last rites of that day.
But it were far too long a tale to say
The clamour of great grief and sorrowing
Those ladies raised above the bones burning
Upon the pyres, and of the great honour
140 That Theseus, the noble conqueror,
Paid to the ladies when from him they went;
To make the story short is my intent.
      Whan that his worthy duc, this Theseus,
Hath Creon slayn, and wonne Thebes thus,
145 Stille in that feeld he took al nyght his reste,
And dide with al the contree as hym leste.
      When, then, this worthy duke, this Theseus
Had slain Creon and won Thebes city thus,
145 Still on the field he took that night his rest,
And dealt with all the land as he thought best.