it mightë been no bet—and causë why:
ther nas no roumer herberghe in the place.
Thay soupen and they speke hem to solace, 210
and drinken ever strong ale attë beste.
Aboutë midnight wentë thay to reste.
Wel hath this miller vernischëd his heed;
ful pale he was fordrŏnken, and nat reed.
He yexeth, and he speketh thurgh the nose,
as he were on the quakke or on the pose.
To bed he gooth, and with him gooth his wif;
as any jay sche light was and jolif,
so was hir joly whistel wel ywet.
The cradel at hir beddës feet is set.
To beddë wente the doghter right anoon; 220
to beddë gooth Alain and also Jon.
Ther was namore, hem nedëdë no dwale.
This miller hath so wisly bibbëd ale
that as an hors he snorteth in his sleep,
ne of his tail behinde he took no keep.
His wif bar him a burdon, a ful strong:
men mighte hir routinge herë two furlong;
the wenchë routeth eek par cŏmpanie.
Alain the clerk, that herde this melodie, 230
he pokëde Jon, and saidë: “Slepis thow?
Herdë thow euer slik a sang ar now?
Lo! quilk a cumplin es imell thaim alle!
A wildë fir upon thair bodis falle!
Qua herknëde euer slik a ferly thing?
Ya, thay sal haf the flour of it ending!
This langë night ther tidis me na reste;
but yit, naa fors, al sal be for the beste.
Sum esëment has lawë schapen us.
For, Jon, ther es a lawë that sais thus: 240
that gif a man in aa point be agreued,
that in another he sal be releued.
Our corn is stoln, sothly it es naa nay,
and we haf had an il fit al this day;
and sen I sal haf naan amendëment
again my los, I wil haf esëment.
By goddis saule, it sal naan other be!”
This Jon answerde : “Alain auisë thee!
the miller es a parlous man,” he saide,
“and gif that he out of his sleep abraide, 250
he mighte do us bathe a vilainie.”
Alain answerde: “ I counte him noght a flie!”
And up he rist, and by the wenche he crepte,
*ther-as sche lay al stille, and fastë slepte,
til he so nigh was, er sche mighte espie,
that it hadde been to latë for to crie.
This Jon lith stille a furlong-wey or two,
and to himself he maketh routhe and wo.
“Alas!” quoth he, “this es a wikkid jape!
Now may I say that I es but an ape; 260
and quen this jape es tald an other day,
I sal been halden daf, a cokenay.
I wil aris, and auntre it, by my fay!
‘Unhardy es unsely,’ thus men say.”
And up he roos, and softëly he wente
unto the cradel, and in his hond it hente,
*and bar it softe, and by his bed it sette.
*[I can nat tellë dremes that hem mette,]
til that the thriddë cok began to singe.
*Alain aroos thanne in the daweninge, 270
*when attë laste ypassed was the night;
he saidë: “Far wel, Maline, swetë wight!
The day es cum, I may naa lenger bide;
but euermaa, quar-sa I gaa or ride,
I es thin awen clerk, swa haf I seel!”
“Now, derë lemman,” quoth sche, “go, far weel!
But er thow go, oo thing I wŏl the telle:
whan that thaw wendest homward by the melle,
right attë entree of the dore behinde
thow schalt a cake of half a busschel finde 280
that was ymaked of thin ownë mele,
which that I heelp my fader for to stele.
Now godë lemman, god the saue and kepe!”
And with that word almoost she gan to wepe.
Alain uprist, and thoghte: “Ar that it dawe,
I wil gaa crepen in by my felawe”;
and fond the cradel with his honde anan.
“By god!” thoghte he, “al wrang I haf misgaan!
Min heed es toty of my drink to-night,
that makës me that I gaa noght aright. 290
I waat wel by the cradel I misgaa:
heer lis the miller and his wif alswa!”
And forth he gooth a twenty-deuel wey
unto the bed ther-as the miller lay.
He weende han cropen by his felawe Jon;
and by the miller in he creep anoon,
and caghte him by the nekke, and softe he spak.
He saide: “Jon, thow swinis-heed, awak!
for goddis saule, and heer a noblë game!
*For I haf had this gracë, by saint Jame . . . 300
quils thow has as a coward been agast!”
“Yee, falsë harlot!” quoth the miller. “Hast?
A! false traitour! falsë clerk!” quoth he,
“thow schalt be deed, by goddes dignitee!”
And by the throtë-bolle he caghte Alain;
and hee hente him despitously ayein,
and on the nose he smoot him with the feest.
Doune ran the blody streem upon his breest;
and in the floor with nose and mouth to-broke
thay walwe as doon two piggës in a poke. 310
And up thay goon, and doune ayein anoon,
til that the miller spurnëde at a stoon;
and doune he fil, bakward upon his wif,
that niste nothing of this nicë strif.
And with the fal out of hir sleep sche breide.
“Help, holy crois of Bromëholm!” sche seide.
“In manus tuas! lord, to the I calle.
Awak, Simond! The feend is on us falle!
Min herte is broken. Help! I nam but deed.
Ther lith oon up my wombe and up min heed. 320
Help, Simkin! for the falsë clerkës fighte.”
This Jon sterte up as faste as euer he mighte,
and graspeth by the wallës to and fro
to finde a staf; and sche sterte up also,
and knew the estrës bet than dide this Jon,
and by the wal a staf sche fond anoon,
and sagh a litel schimmeringe of a light;
for at an hole in schoon the monë bright.
And by that light sche sagh hem bothë two,
but sikerly sche nistë who was who, 330
but as sche sagh a whit thing in hir yë;
and whan sche gan the whitë thing espie,
sche weende the clerk hadde wered a volupeer;
and with the staf sche drogh ay neer and neer,
and weende han hit this Alain attë fulle—
and smoot the miller on the pilëd skulle.
Than doune he gooth, and cride: “Harrow! I die!”
Thise clerkës bete him wel and lete him lie,
And graithen hem, and toke hir hors anoon,
and eek hir mele, and on hir wey thay goon. 340
And attë millë yet thay toke hir cake
of half a bussehel flour ful wel ybake.
Thus is the proudë miller wel ybete,
and hath ylorn the grindinge of the whete,
and payëd for the souper euery deel
of Alain and of Jon, that bete him weel.
And therfore this prouerbe is said ful sooth:
“him thar nat wenë wel that yuel dooth”;
a guilour schal himself beguiled be.
And God that sitteth high in magestee 350
saue al this cumpanië, grete and smale;
*for al is doon; thus endeth now my tale.