The Canterbury Tales

For, as I trow, I have you told enough
To raise a fiend, all look he ne'er so rough.

Ah! nay, let be; the philosopher's stone,
Elixir call'd, we seeke fast each one;
For had we him, then were we sicker* enow;                       *secure
But unto God of heaven I make avow,*                         *confession
For all our craft, when we have all y-do,
And all our sleight, he will not come us to.
He hath y-made us spende muche good,
For sorrow of which almost we waxed wood,*                          *mad
But that good hope creeped in our heart,
Supposing ever, though we sore smart,
To be relieved by him afterward.
Such supposing and hope is sharp and hard.
I warn you well it is to seeken ever.
That future temps* hath made men dissever,**          *time  **part from
In trust thereof, from all that ever they had,
Yet of that art they cannot waxe sad,*                        *repentant
For unto them it is a bitter sweet;
So seemeth it; for had they but a sheet
Which that they mighte wrap them in at night,
And a bratt* to walk in by dayelight,                         *cloak<10>
They would them sell, and spend it on this craft;
They cannot stint,* until no thing be laft.                       *cease
And evermore, wherever that they gon,
Men may them knowe by smell of brimstone;
For all the world they stinken as a goat;
Their savour is so rammish and so hot,
That though a man a mile from them be,
The savour will infect him, truste me.
Lo, thus by smelling and threadbare array,
If that men list, this folk they knowe may.
And if a man will ask them privily,
Why they be clothed so unthriftily,*                           *shabbily
They right anon will rownen* in his ear,                        *whisper
And sayen, if that they espied were,
Men would them slay, because of their science:
Lo, thus these folk betrayen innocence!

Pass over this; I go my tale unto.
Ere that the pot be on the fire y-do*                            *placed
Of metals, with a certain quantity
My lord them tempers,* and no man but he        *adjusts the proportions
(Now he is gone, I dare say boldely);
For as men say, he can do craftily,
Algate* I wot well he hath such a name,                        *although
And yet full oft he runneth into blame;
And know ye how? full oft it happ'neth so,
The pot to-breaks, and farewell! all is go'.*                      *gone
These metals be of so great violence,
Our walles may not make them resistence,
*But if* they were wrought of lime and stone;                   *unless*
They pierce so, that through the wall they gon;
And some of them sink down into the ground
(Thus have we lost by times many a pound),
And some are scatter'd all the floor about;
Some leap into the roof withoute doubt.
Though that the fiend not in our sight him show,
I trowe that he be with us, that shrew;*                 *impious wretch
In helle, where that he is lord and sire,
Is there no more woe, rancour, nor ire.
When that our pot is broke, as I have said,
Every man chides, and holds him *evil apaid.*             *dissatisfied*
Some said it was *long on* the fire-making;            *because of <11>*
Some saide nay, it was on the blowing
(Then was I fear'd, for that was mine office);
"Straw!" quoth the third, "ye be *lewed and **nice,  *ignorant **foolish
It was not temper'd* as it ought to be."       *mixed in due proportions
"Nay," quoth the fourthe, "stint* and hearken me;                  *stop
Because our fire was not y-made of beech,
That is the cause, and other none, *so the'ch.*        *so may I thrive*
I cannot tell whereon it was along,
But well I wot great strife is us among."
"What?" quoth my lord, "there is no more to do'n,
Of these perils I will beware eftsoon.*                    *another time
I am right sicker* that the pot was crazed.**            *sure **cracked
Be as be may, be ye no thing amazed.*                        *confounded
As usage is, let sweep the floor as swithe;*                    *quickly
Pluck up your heartes and be glad and blithe."

The mullok* on a heap y-sweeped was,                            *rubbish
And on the floor y-cast a canevas,
And all this mullok in a sieve y-throw,
And sifted, and y-picked many a throw.*                            *time
"Pardie," quoth one, "somewhat of our metal
Yet is there here, though that we have not all.
And though this thing *mishapped hath as now,*           *has gone amiss
Another time it may be well enow.                            at present*
We muste *put our good in adventure; *               *risk our property*
A merchant, pardie, may not aye endure,
Truste me well, in his prosperity:
Sometimes his good is drenched* in the sea,               *drowned, sunk
And sometimes comes it safe unto the land."
"Peace," quoth my lord; "the next time I will fand*           *endeavour
To bring our craft *all in another plight,*  *to a different conclusion*
And but I do, Sirs, let me have the wite;*                        *blame
There was default in somewhat, well I wot."
Another said, the fire was over hot.
But be it hot or cold, I dare say this,