The Canterbury Tales

The Canterbury Tales (Middle English: Tales of Caunterbury) is a collection of 24 stories written in Middle English by Geoffrey Chaucer between 1387 and 1400. The book presents the tales, which are mostly written in verse, as part of a fictional storytelling contest held by a group of pilgrims travelling together from London to Canterbury to visit the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral.

W. W. Skeat (ed.) The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer, 2nd ed. (1900), vols. 3, 4, 5

Quotes

General Prologue

Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open yë,
(So priketh hem nature in hir corages):
Than longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.
- l. 1

And specially, from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende,
The holy blisful martir for to seke,
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seke.
- l. 15

Bifel that, in that seson on a day,
In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay
Redy to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,
At night was come in-to that hostelrye
Wel nyne and twenty in a companye.
- l. 19

A Knight ther was, and that a worthy man,
That fro the tyme that he first bigan
To ryden out, he loved chivalrye,
Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye.
Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre,
And therto hadde he riden (no man ferre)
As wel in Cristendom as hethenesse,
And ever honoured for his worthinesse.
- l. 43

And of his port as meke as is a mayde.
- l. 69

He was a verray parfit gentil knight.
- l. 72

With him ther was his sone, a yong Squyer,
A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,
With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd in presse.
Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse.
Of his stature he was of evene lengthe,
And wonderly deliver, and greet of strengthe.
- l. 79

And born him wel, as of so litel space,
In hope to stonden in his lady grace.
Embrouded was he, as it were a mede
Al ful of fresshe floures, whyte and rede.
Singinge he was, or floytinge, al the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
- l. 87

Short was his goune, with sleves longe and wyde.
Wel coude he sitte on hors, and faire ryde.
- l. 93

He coude songes make and wel endyte.
- l. 95

Curteys he was, lowly, and servisable,
And carf biforn his fader at the table.
- l. 99

A Yeman hadde he, and servaunts namo
At that tyme, for him liste ryde so;
And he was clad in cote and hood of grene.
- l. 101

Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse,
That of hir smyling was ful simple and coy;
Hir gretteste ooth was but by sëynt Loy;
And she was cleped madame Eglentyne.
- l. 120

Ful wel she song the service divyne,
Entuned in hir nose ful semely;
And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetisly,
After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
For Frensh of Paris was to hir unknowe.
- l. 122

She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle,
Ne wette hir fingres in hir sauce depe.
Wel coude she carie a morsel, and wel kepe,
That no drope ne fille up-on hir brest.
In curteisye was set ful muche hir lest.
- l. 128

She was so charitable and so pitous,
She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous
Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
- l. 143

Of smale houndes had she, that she fedde
With rosted flesh, or milk and wastel-breed.
But sore weep she if oon of hem were deed,
Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte:
And al was conscience and tendre herte.
- l. 146

Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar
A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene;
And ther-on heng a broche of gold ful shene,
On which ther was first write a crowned A,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.
- l. 158
  Virgil, Eclogues, x, l. 69

A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrye,
An out-rydere, that lovede venerye;
A manly man, to been an abbot able.
- l. 165

And, whan he rood, men mighte his brydel here
Ginglen in a whistling wind as clere,
And eek as loude as dooth the chapel-belle.
- l. 169

He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen,
That seith, that hunters been nat holy men.
- l. 177

His palfrey was as broun as is a berye.
- l. 207

A Frere ther was, a wantown and a merye,
A limitour, a ful solempne man.
In alle the ordres foure is noon that can
So muche of daliaunce and fair langage.
He hadde maad ful many a mariage
Of yonge wommen, at his owne cost.
Un-to his ordre he was a noble post.
- l. 208

He knew the tavernes wel in every toun.
- l. 240

He was the beste beggere in his hous.
- l. 252

Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantownesse,
To make his English swete up-on his tonge.
- l. 264

A Marchant was ther with a forked berd,
In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat,
Up-on his heed a Flaundrish bever hat;
His botes clasped faire and fetisly.
His resons he spak ful solempnely.
- l. 272

A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also,
That un-to logik hadde longe y-go.
As lene was his hors as is a rake,
And he nas nat right fat, I undertake;
But loked holwe, and ther-to soberly.
- l. 287

For him was lever have at his beddes heed
Twenty bokes, clad in blak or reed,
Of Aristotle and his philosophye,
Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrye.
But al be that he was a philosophre,
Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.
- l. 295

Of studie took he most cure and most hede.
Noght o word spak he more than was nede,
And that was seyd in forme and reverence,
And short and quik, and ful of hy sentence.
Souninge in moral vertu was his speche,
And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.
- l. 305

A Sergeant of the Lawe, war and wys,
That often hadde been at the parvys,
Ther was also, ful riche of excellence.
- l. 311

No-wher so bisy a man as he ther nas,
And yet he semed bisier than he was.
- l. 323

A Frankeleyn was in his companye;
Whyt was his berd, as is the dayesye.
Of his complexioun he was sangwyn.
Wel loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn.
- l. 333

To liven in delyt was ever his wone,
For he was Epicurus owne sone.
- l. 337
  Horace, Epistles, Bk. I, ep. iv, l. 16

It snewed in his hous of mete and drinke.
- l. 347

An Haberdassher and a Carpenter,
A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapicer,
Were with us eek, clothed in o liveree,
Of a solempne and greet fraternitee.
- l. 363

A Cook they hadde with hem for the nones,
To boille the chiknes with the mary-bones.
- l. 381

A Shipman was ther, woning fer by weste:
For aught I woot, he was of Dertemouthe.
- l. 390

And, certeinly, he was a good felawe.
- l. 397

Of nyce conscience took he no keep.
If that he faught, and hadde the hyer hond,
By water he sente hem hoom to every lond.
- l. 400

With us ther was a Doctour of Phisyk,
In al this world ne was ther noon him lyk
To speke of phisik and of surgerye;
For he was grounded in astronomye.
- l. 413

His studie was but litel on the Bible.
- l. 440

He kepte that he wan in pestilence.
For gold in phisik is a cordial,
Therfore he lovede gold in special.
- l. 444

A good Wyf was ther of bisyde Bathe,
But she was som-del deef, and that was scathe.
Of clooth-making she hadde swiche an haunt,
She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt.
- l. 447

Hir coverchiefs ful fyne were of ground;
I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound
That on a Sonday were upon hir heed.
Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed,
Ful streite y-teyd, and shoos ful moiste and newe.
Bold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe.
- l. 455

She was a worthy womman al hir lyve,
Housbondes at chirche-dore she hadde fyve,
Withouten other companye in youthe;
But therof nedeth nat to speke as nouthe.
- l. 461

And thryes hadde she been at Jerusalem;
She hadde passed many a straunge streem;
At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne,
In Galice at seint Jame, and at Coloigne.
- l. 465

A good man was ther of religioun,
And was a povre Persoun of a toun;
But riche he was of holy thoght and werk.
He was also a lerned man, a clerk,
That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche;
His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche.
- l. 480

Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer a-sonder.
- l. 493

This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf,
That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte.
- l. 498

Out of the gospel he tho wordes caughte;
And this figure he added eek ther-to,
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.
- l. 500

A bettre preest, I trowe that nowher noon is.
He wayted after no pompe and reverence,
Ne maked him a spyced conscience,
But Cristes lore, and his apostles twelve,
He taughte, and first he folwed it him-selve.
- l. 526

With him ther was a Plowman, was his brother,
That hadde y-lad of dong ful many a fother.
- l. 531

The Miller was a stout carl, for the nones,
Ful big he was of braun, and eek of bones.
- l. 547

His berd as any sowe or fox was reed,
And ther-to brood, as though it were a spade.
Up-on the cop right of his nose he hade
A werte, and ther-on stood a tuft of heres,
Reed as the bristles of a sowes eres.
- l. 554

His nose-thirles blake were and wyde.
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 most of sinne and harlotryes.
- l. 559

And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee.
- l. 565
  Ray, Proverbs (ed. 1768), p. 136: "An honest miller has a golden thumb."

A gentil Maunciple was ther of a temple,
Of which achatours mighte take exemple
For to be wyse in bying of vitaille.
- l. 569

The Reve was a sclendre colerik man,
His berd was shave as ny as ever he can.
- l. 589

A Somnour was ther with us in that place,
That hadde a fyr-reed cherubinnes face,
For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe.
As hoot he was, and lecherous, as a sparwe.
- l. 625

Wel loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes,
And for to drinken strong wyn, reed as blood.
- l. 636

And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn,
Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn.
- l. 640

With him ther rood a gentil Pardoner
Of Rouncival, his freend and his compeer,
That streight was comen fro the court of Rome.
Ful loude he song, ‘Com hider, love, to me.’
- l. 671

This pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex,
But smothe it heng, as dooth a strike of flex.
- l. 677

His walet lay biforn him in his lappe,
Bret-ful of pardoun come from Rome al hoot.
- l. 688

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 person dwelling up-on lond,
Up-on a day he gat him more moneye
Than that the person gat in monthes tweye.
And thus, with feyned flaterye and japes,
He made the person and the peple his apes.
- l. 701

Who-so shal telle a tale after a man,
He moot reherce, as ny as ever he can,
Everich a word, if it be in his charge,
Al speke he never so rudeliche and large;
Or elles he moot telle his tale untrewe,
Or feyne thing, or finde wordes newe.
- l. 733
  He who repeats a tale after a man,
  Is bound to say, as nearly as he can,
  Each single word, if he remembers it,
  However rudely spoken or unfit,
  Or else the tale he tells will be untrue,
  The things invented and the phrases new.
  (trans. Nevill Coghill)

This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn,
That ech of yow, to shorte with your weye,
In this viage, shal telle tales tweye,
To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so,
And hom-ward he shal tellen othere two,
Of aventures that whylom han bifalle.
- l. 792

The Knight's Tale

For May wol have no slogardye a-night.
The sesoun priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his sleep to sterte.
- l. 184
  Cf. Herrick, "Corinna's Going a-Maying", l. 5: "Get up, sweet slug-a-bed."

Wostow nat wel the olde clerkes sawe,
That ‘who shal yeve a lover any lawe?’
Love is a gretter lawe, by my pan,
Than may be yeve to any erthly man.
- l. 305

And therfore, at the kinges court, my brother,
Ech man for him-self, ther is non other.
- l. 323

And whan a beest is deed, he hath no peyne;
But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne.
- l. 461

The bisy larke, messager of day.
- l. 633

May, with alle thy floures and thy grene,
Wel-come be thou, faire fresshe May.
- l. 652

That ‘feeld hath eyen, and the wode hath eres.’
- l. 664
  Proverb, with Latin version (MS. Trin. Coll. Cam. O. 2. 45): Veld haueð hege, and wude haueð heare. / Campus habet lumen, et habet nemus auris acumen. German (Ida von Düringsfeld, Sprichwörter, vol. i. no. 453): Das Feld hat Augen, der Wald hat Ohren. French (Cotgrave, Dictionarie, s.v. Oeillet): Bois ont oreilles, & champs oeiletts.

Now up, now doun, as boket in a welle.
- l. 675

For pitee renneth sone in gentil herte.
- l. 903

The statue of Venus, glorious for to see,
Was naked fleting in the large see,
And fro the navele doun all covered was
With wawes grene, and brighte as any glas.
A citole in hir right hand hadde she,
And on hir heed, ful semely for to see,
A rose gerland, fresh and wel smellinge;
Above hir heed hir dowves flikeringe.
- l. 1097
  Her statue, glorious in majesty,
  Stood naked, floating on a vasty sea,
  And from the navel down there were a mass
  Of green and glittering waves as bright as glass.
  In her right hand a cithern carried she
  And on her head, most beautiful to see,
  A garland of fresh roses, while above
  There circles round her many a flickering dove.
  (trans. Nevill Coghill)

Cupido,
Up-on his shuldres winges hadde he two;
And blind he was, as it is ofte sene;
A bowe he bar and arwes brighte and kene.
- l. 1105

With-inne the temple of mighty Mars the rede,
All peinted was the wall in length and brede,
Like to the estres of the grisly place
That highte the gret temple of Mars in Trace:
In thilke colde and frosty region,
Ther as Mars hath his sovereine mansion.
- l. 1111
  But in the dome of mighty Mars the red,
  With different figures all the sides were spread;
  This temple, less in form, with equal grace,
  Was imitative of the first in Thrace;
  For that cold region was the loved abode,
  And sovereign mansion of the warrior god.
  (trans. Dryden)

Ther saugh I first the derke imagining
Of felonye, and al the compassing.
- l. 1137
  There saw I how the secret felon wrought,
  And treason labouring in the traitor's thought,
  And midwife Time the ripened plot to murders brought.
  (trans. Dryden)

The smyler with the knyf under the cloke.
- l. 1141
  Next stood Hypocrisy, with holy leer;
  Soft smiling, and demurely looking down,
  But hid the dagger underneath the gown.
  (trans. Dryden)

The careyne in the bush, with throte y-corve:
A thousand slayn, and nat of qualm y-storve;
The tiraunt, with the prey by force y-raft;
The toun destroyed, ther was no-thing laft.
Yet saugh I brent the shippes hoppesteres;
The hunte strangled with the wilde beres:
The sowe freten the child right in the cradel;
The cook y-scalded, for al his longe ladel.
- l. 1155
  There was the murdered corpse in covert laid,
  And violent death in thousand shapes displayed;
  The city to the soldier's rage resigned;
  Successless wars, and poverty behind:
  Ships burnt in fight, or forced on rocky shores,
  And the rash hunter strangled by the boars;
  The new-born babe by nurses overlaid;
  And the cook caught within the raging fire he made.
  (trans. Dryden)

And al above, depeynted in a tour,
Saw I conquest sittinge in greet honour,
With the sharpe swerde over his heed
Hanginge by a sotil twynes threed.
- l. 1169
  And high above, depicted in a tower,
  Sat Conquest, robed in majesty and power,
  Under a sword that swung above his head,
  Sharp-edged and hanging by a subtle thread.
  (trans. Nevill Coghill)

This goddesse on an hert ful hye seet,
With smale houndes al aboute hir feet;
And undernethe hir feet she hadde a mone,
Wexing it was, and sholde wanie sone.
In gaude grene hir statue clothed was,
With bowe in honde, and arwes in a cas.
Hir eyen caste she ful lowe adoun,
Ther Pluto hath his derke regioun.
- l. 1217
  High on a stag the Goddess held her seat,
  And there were little hounds about her feet;
  Below her feet there was a sickle moon,
  Waxing it seemed, but would be waning soon.
  Her statue bore a mantle of bright green,
  Her hand a bow with arrows cased and keen;
  Her eyes were lowered, gazing as she rode
  Down to where Pluto has his dark abode.
  (trans. Nevill Coghill)

Ther nis no newe gyse, that it nas old.
- l. 1267

Up roos the sonne, and up roos Emelye.
- l. 1415

Myn be the travaille, and thyn be the glorie!
- l. 1548

And she was al his chere, as in his herte.
- l. 1825

What is this world? what asketh men to have?
Now with his love, now in his colde grave
Allone, with-outen any companye.
- l. 1919

‘Right as ther deyed never man,’ quod he,
‘That he ne livede in erthe in som degree,
Right so ther livede never man,’ he seyde,
‘In al this world, that som tyme he ne deyde.
This world nis but a thurghfare ful of wo,
And we ben pilgrimes, passinge to and fro;
Deeth is an ende of every worldly sore.’
- l. 1985
  Since every man, who lives, is born to die,
  And none can boast sincere felicity,
  With equal mind, what happens, let us bear,
  Nor joy, nor grieve too much, for things beyond our care.
  Like pilgrims, to the appointed place we tend;
  The world's an inn, and death the journey's end.
  (trans. Dryden)

What maketh this but Jupiter the king?
The which is prince and cause of alle thing,
Converting al un-to his propre welle,
From which it is deryved, sooth to telle.
And here-agayns no creature on lyve
Of no degree availleth for to stryve.
Thanne is it wisdom, as it thinketh me,
To maken vertu of necessitee,
And take it wel, that we may nat eschue,
And namely that to us alle is due.
- l. 2177
  Cf. Troilus and Criseyde, bk. IV, l. 1586

The Miller's Tale

Who hath no wyf, he is no cokewold.
- Prologue, l. 44

This Carpenter had wedded newe a wyf
Which that he lovede more than his lyf.
- Tale, l. 35

Jalous he was, and heeld hir narwe in cage,
For she was wilde and yong, and he was old.
- Tale, l. 38

Men sholde wedden after hir estaat,
For youthe and elde is often at debaat.
- Tale, l. 43
  Distichs of Cato

She was a prymerole, a pigges-nye
For any lord to leggen in his bedde,
Or yet for any good yeman to wedde.
- Tale, l. 82

And prively he caughte hir by the queynte.
- Tale, l. 90

She was so propre and swete and likerous.
I dar wel seyn, if she had been a mous,
And he a cat, he wolde hir hente anon.
- Tale, l. 159

And wafres, pyping hote out of the glede.
- Tale, l. 193

And so bifel it on a Saterday,
This carpenter was goon til Osenay;
And hende Nicholas and Alisoun
Acorded been to this conclusioun,
That Nicholas shal shapen him a wyle
This sely jalous housbond to bigyle.
- Tale, l. 213

Jesu Crist, and seynt Benedight,
Blesse this hous from every wikked wight.
- Tale, l. 297

And broghte of mighty ale a large quart.
- Tale, l. 311

‘Now John,’ quod Nicholas, ‘I wol nat lye;
I have y-founde in myn astrologye,
As I have loked in the mone bright,
That now, a Monday next, at quarter-night,
Shal falle a reyn and that so wilde and wood,
That half so greet was never Noës flood.’
- Tale, l. 327

Lo! which a greet thyng is affeccioun!
Men may dye of imaginacioun,
So depe may impressioun be take.
- Tale, l. 425

Whan that the firste cok hath crowe, anon
Up rist this joly lover Absolon,
And him arrayeth gay, at point-devys.
But first he cheweth greyn and lycorys,
To smellen swete, er he had kembd his heer.
- Tale, l. 501

I have swich love-longinge,
That lyk a turtel trewe is my moorninge;
I may nat ete na more than a mayde.
- Tale, l. 519

Derk was the night as pich, or as the cole,
And at the window out she putte hir hole,
And Absolon, him fil no bet ne wers,
But with his mouth he kiste hir naked ers
Ful savourly, er he was war of this.
   Abak he sterte, and thoghte it was amis,
For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd;
He felte a thing al rough and long y-herd,
And seyde, ‘fy! allas! what have I do?’
   ‘Tehee!’ quod she, and clapte the window to;
And Absolon goth forth a sory pas.
   ‘A berd, a berd!’ quod hende Nicholas,
‘By goddes corpus, this goth faire and weel!’
- Tale, l. 545

This Nicholas was risen for to pisse,
And thoghte he wolde amenden al the jape,
He sholde kisse his ers er that he scape.
And up the windowe dide he hastily,
And out his ers he putteth prively
Over the buttok, to the haunche-bon;
And ther-with spak this clerk, this Absolon,
‘Spek, swete brid, I noot nat wher thou art.’
This Nicholas anon leet flee a fart,
As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almost y-blent;
And he was redy with his iren hoot,
And Nicholas amidde the ers he smoot.
- Tale, l. 612

The Reeve's Tale

Yet in our asshen olde is fyr y-reke.
- Prologue, l. 28

The gretteste clerkes been noght the wysest men.
- Tale, l. 134

Thurgh thikke and thurgh thenne.
- Tale, l. 146
  Cf. Du Bartas, Second Week, Fourth Day; Spenser, The Faerie Queene, Bk. III, Canto i, st. 17

So was hir joly whistle wel y-wet.
- Tale, l. 235

The Man of Law's Tale

At Cristemasse merie may ye daunce!
- Prologue, l. 28

She is mirour of alle curteisye.
- Tale, l. 68
  Cf. Shakespeare, Henry VIII, act II, sc. i, l. 52

For in the sterres, clerer than is glas,
Is writen, god wot, who-so coude it rede,
The deeth of every man, withouten drede.
- Tale, l. 96

Sathan, that ever us waiteth to bigyle.
- Tale, l. 484

Have ye nat seyn som tyme a pale face,
Among a prees, of him that hath be lad
Toward his deeth, wher-as him gat no grace,
And swich a colour in his face hath had,
Men mighte knowe his face, that was bistad,
Amonges alle the faces in that route.
- Tale, l. 547

Sir Thopas

Thou lokest as thou woldest finde an hare,
For ever up-on the ground I see thee stare.
- Prologue, l. 6

He hadde a semely nose.
- Tale, l. 18

The Tale of Melibee

This may wel be rym dogerel.
- Prologue, l. 7

‘By god,’ quod he, ‘for pleynly, at a word,
Thy drasty ryming is nat worth a tord.
- Prologue, l. 11

What is bettre than gold? Jaspre.
What is bettre than jaspre? Wisdom.
And what is bettre than wisdom? Womman.
And what is bettre than a good womman? No-thing.
- Tale, § 15

The Nun's Priest's Tale

Your tale anoyeth al this companye;
Swich talking is nat worth a boterflye.
- Prologue, l. 23

A povre widwe, somdel stope in age,
Was whylom dwelling in a narwe cotage,
Bisyde a grove, stonding in a dale.
- Tale, l. 1

She hadde a cok, hight Chauntecleer,
In al the land of crowing nas his peer.
His vois was merier than the mery orgon
On messe-dayes that in the chirche gon;
Wel sikerer was his crowing in his logge,
Than is a clokke, or an abbey orlogge.
- Tale, l. 29

His comb was redder than the fyn coral,
And batailed, as it were a castel-wal.
His bile was blak, and as the jeet it shoon;
Lyk asur were his legges, and his toon;
His nayles whytter than the lilie flour,
And lyk the burned gold was his colour.
This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce
Sevene hennes, for to doon al his plesaunce,
Whiche were his sustres and his paramours,
And wonder lyk to him, as of colours.
Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir throte
Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote.
- Tale, l. 39
  Cf. Anon., "I Have a Gentle Cock"

We alle desyren, if it mighte be,
To han housbondes hardy, wyse, and free,
And secree, and no nigard, ne no fool,
Ne him that is agast of every tool,
Ne noon avauntour, by that god above!
- Tale, l. 93

Certes this dreem, which ye han met to-night,
Cometh of the grete superfluitee
Of youre rede colera.
- Tale, l. 106

Right as the humour of malencolye
Causeth ful many a man, in sleep, to crye,
For fere of blake beres, or boles blake,
Or elles, blake develes wole hem take.
- Tale, l. 113

O blisful god, that art so just and trewe!
Lo, how that thou biwreyest mordre alway!
Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.
Mordre is so wlatsom and abhominable.
- Tale, l. 230

Macrobeus, that writ the avisioun
In Affrike of the worthy Cipioun,
Affermeth dremes, and seith that they been
Warning of thinges that men after seen.
- Tale, l. 303

Reed eek of Joseph, and ther shul ye see
Wher dremes ben somtyme (I sey nat alle)
Warning of thinges that shul after falle.
- Tale, l. 310

Who-so wol seken actes of sondry remes,
May rede of dremes many a wonder thing.
- Tale, l. 316

For whan I see the beautee of your face,
Ye ben so scarlet-reed about your yën,
It maketh al my drede for to dyen.
- Tale, l. 340

Womman is mannes joye and al his blis.
For whan I fele a-night your softe syde,
Al-be-it that I may nat on you ryde,
For that our perche is maad so narwe, alas!
I am so ful of joye and of solas
That I defye bothe sweven and dreem.
- Tale, l. 346
  Cf. Robert Mannyng, Handlyng Synne, l. 1907

Whan that the month in which the world bigan,
That highte March, whan god first maked man.
- Tale, l. 367

‘Madame Pertelote, my worldes blis,
Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they singe,
And see the fresshe floures how they springe;
Ful is myn herte of revel and solas.’
But sodeinly him fil a sorweful cas;
For ever the latter ende of joye is wo.
- Tale, l. 380

My tale is of a cok, as ye may here,
That took his counseil of his wyf, with sorwe,
To walken in the yerd upon that morwe
That he had met the dreem, that I yow tolde.
Wommennes counseils been ful ofte colde.
- Tale, l. 432

Allas! ye lordes, many a fals flatour
Is in your courtes, and many a losengeour,
That plesen yow wel more, by my feith,
Than he that soothfastnesse unto yow seith.
Redeth Ecclesiaste of flaterye;
Beth war, ye lordes, of hir trecherye.
- Tale, l. 505

Daun Russel the fox sterte up at ones.
- Tale, l. 514

And on a Friday fil al this meschaunce.
- Tale, l. 521

They yelleden as feendes doon in helle;
The dokes cryden as men wolde hem quelle;
The gees for fere flowen over the trees;
Out of the hyve cam the swarm of bees.
- Tale, l. 569

Certes, he Jakke Straw, and his meynee,
Ne made never shoutes half so shrille,
Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille,
As thilke day was maad upon the fox.
- Tale, l. 574

But ye that holden this tale a folye,
As of a fox, or of a cok and hen,
Taketh the moralitee, good men.
For seint Paul seith, that al that writen is,
To our doctryne it is y-write, y-wis.
Taketh the fruyt, and lat the chaf be stille.
- Tale, l. 618
  Yet do not miss the moral, my good men.
  For Saint Paul says that all that’s written well
  Is written down some useful truth to tell.
  Then take the wheat and let the chaff lie still.
  (trans. J. U. Nicolson)

The Pardoner's Tale

Than peyne I me to strecche forth the nekke,
And est and west upon the peple I bekke.
- Prologue, l. 67

I preche of no-thing but for coveityse.
Therfor my theme is yet, and ever was—
“Radix malorum est cupiditas.”
- Tale, l. 96
  1 Timothy 6:10 (Vulgate)

But, though my-self be gilty in that sinne,
Yet can I maken other folk to twinne
From avaryce, and sore to repente.
- Tale, l. 101

O wombe! O bely! O stinking cod,
Fulfild of donge and of corrupcioun!
- Tale, l. 206
  Cf. Hesiod, Theogony, l. 26; Odo of Cluny

For dronkenesse is verray sepulture
Of mannes wit and his discrecioun.
- Tale, l. 230

And thou shalt kisse the reliks everichon,
Ye, for a grote! unbokel anon thy purs.
- Tale, l. 615

Gret swering is a thing abhominable,
And false swering is yet more reprevable.
- Tale, l. 303

‘What? carl, with sory grace.’
- Tale, l. 389

And lightly as it comth, so wol we spende.
- Tale, l. 453

The Shipman's Tale

He wolde sowen som difficultee,
Or springen cokkel in our clene corn.
- Prologue, l. 20

The Prioress's Tale

He can nat stinte of singing by the weye.
- Tale, l. 105

Mordre wol out, certein, it wol nat faille.
- Tale, l. 124

The Wife of Bath's Tale

Experience, though noon auctoritee
Were in this world, were right y-nough to me
To speke of wo that is in mariage.
- Prologue, l. 1

Housbondes at chirche-dore I have had fyve;
For I so ofte have y-wedded be;
And alle were worthy men in hir degree.
- Prologue, l. 6

Men may devyne and glosen up and doun.
But wel I woot expres, with-oute lye,
God bad us for to wexe and multiplye;
That gentil text can I wel understonde.
- Prologue, l. 26

Blessed be god that I have wedded fyve!
Welcome the sixte, whan that ever he shal.
For sothe, I wol nat kepe me chast in al;
Whan myn housbond is fro the world y-gon,
Som Cristen man shal wedde me anon.
- Prologue, l. 44

Th'Apostle seith, that I am free
To wedde, a goddes half, wher it lyketh me.
He seith that to be wedded is no sinne;
Bet is to be wedded than to brinne.
- Prologue, l. 49

Whan saugh ye ever, in any maner age,
That hye God defended mariage
By expres word? I pray you, telleth me;
Or wher comanded he virginitee?
- Prologue, l. 59

Men may conseille a womman to been oon,
But conseilling is no comandement;
He putte it in our owene jugement.
For hadde god comanded maydenhede,
Thanne hadde he dampned wedding with the dede.
- Prologue, l. 66

And certes, if ther were no seed y-sowe,
Virginitee, wher-of than sholde it growe?
- Prologue, l. 71

Hem lyketh to be clene, body and goost,
Of myn estaat I nil nat make no boost.
For wel ye knowe, a lord in his houshold,
He hath nat every vessel al of gold;
Somme been of tree, and doon hir lord servyse.
God clepeth folk to him in sondry wyse,
And everich hath of god a propre yifte,
Som this, som that,—as him lyketh shifte.
- Prologue, l. 97
  Purity in body and heart
  May please some — as for me, I make no boast.
  For, as you know, no master of a household
  Has all of his utensils made of gold;
  Some are wood, and yet they are of use.
  (trans. David Wright)

Virginitee is greet perfeccioun,
And continence eek with devocioun.
But Crist, that of perfeccioun is welle,
Bad nat every wight he shold go selle
All that he hadde, and give it to the pore,
And in swich wyse folwe hime and his fore.
He spak to hem that wolde live parfitly;
And lordinges, by your leve, that am nat I.
- Prologue, l. 105

I wol bistowe the flour of al myn age
In the actes and in fruit of mariage.
- Prologue, l. 113

So that the clerkes be nat with me wrothe,
I sey this, that they maked been for bothe,
This is to seye, for office, and for ese
Of engendrure, ther we nat god displese.
- Prologue, l. 125

The bacoun was nat fet for hem, I trowe,
That som men han in Essex at Dunmowe.
- Prologue, l. 217

Ye wyse wyves, that can understonde,
Thus shul ye speke and bere hem wrong on honde;
For half so boldely can ther no man
Swere and lyen as a womman can.
- Prologue, l. 225

Thow seyst that dropping houses, and eek smoke,
And chyding wyves, maken men to flee
Out of hir owene hous; a! benedicite!
What eyleth swich an old man for to chyde?
- Prologue, l. 278

Thou lykenest wommanes love to helle,
To bareyne lond, ther water may not dwelle.
Thou lyknest it also to wilde fyr;
The more it brenneth, the more it hath desyr
To consume every thing that brent wol be.
Thou seyst, that right as wormes shende a tree,
Right so a wyf destroyeth hir housbonde;
This knowe they that been to wyves bonde.
- Prologue, l. 371
  Then you compared a woman's love to Hell,
  To barren land where water will not dwell,
  And you compared it to a quenchless fire,
  The more it burns the more is its desire
  To burn up everything that burnt can be.
  You say that just as worms destroy a tree
  A wife destroys her husband and contrives,
  As husbands know, the ruin of their lives.
  (trans. Nevill Coghill)

I wolde no lenger in the bed abyde,
If that I felte his arm over my syde,
Til he had maad his raunson un-to me;
Than wolde I suffre him do his nycetee.
And ther-fore every man this tale I telle,
Winne who-so may, for al is for to selle.
- Prologue, l. 409

With empty hand men may none haukes lure;
For winning wolde I al his lust endure,
And make me a feyned appetyt;
And yet in bacon hadde I never delyt.
- Prologue, l. 415

And I was yong and ful of ragerye,
Stiborn and strong, and joly as a pye.
Wel coude I daunce to an harpe smale,
And singe, y-wis, as any nightingale,
Whan I had dronke a draughte of swete wyn.
- Prologue, l. 455

And, after wyn, on Venus moste I thinke:
For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl,
A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl.
- Prologue, l. 464

But, lord Crist! whan that it remembreth me
Up-on my yowthe, and on my jolitee,
It tikleth me aboute myn herte rote.
Unto this day it dooth myn herte bote
That I have had my world as in my tyme.
- Prologue, l. 469

But age, allas! that al wol envenyme,
Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith;
Lat go, fare-wel, the devel go therwith!
The flour is goon, ther is na-more to telle,
- Prologue, l. 474

In his owene grece I made him frye.
- Prologue, l. 487
  Cf. Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor, act II, sc. i, l. 60

By god, in erthe I was his purgatorie,
For which I hope his soule be in glorie.
- Prologue, l. 489

What thing we may nat lightly have,
Ther-after wol we crye al-day and crave.
- Prologue, l. 517

Forbede us thing, and that desyren we;
Prees on us faste, and thanne wol we flee.
With daunger oute we al our chaffare;
Greet prees at market maketh dere ware,
And to greet cheep is holde at litel prys.
- Prologue, l. 519

And for to see, and eek for to be seye
Of lusty folk.
- Prologue, l. 552
  Ovid, Ars Amatoria, bk. 1, l. 99

I holde a mouses herte nat worth a leek,
That hath but oon hole for to sterte to.
- Prologue, l. 572
  Plautus, Truculentus, act IV, sc. iv, l. 15

But yet I hadde alwey a coltes tooth.
Gat-tothed I was, and that bicam me weel;
I hadde the prente of sëynt Venus seel.
As help me god, I was a lusty oon.
- Prologue, l. 602

Myne housbondes tolde me,
I had the beste quoniam mighte be.
- Prologue, l. 606

Venus me yaf my lust, my likerousnesse,
And Mars yaf me my sturdy hardinesse.
- Prologue, l. 611

Allas! allas! that ever love was sinne!
- Prologue, l. 614

Of Eva first, that, for hir wikkednesse,
Was al mankinde broght to wrecchednesse,
For which that Iesu Crist him-self was slayn,
That boghte us with his herte-blood agayn.
Lo, here expres of womman may ye finde,
That womman was the los of al mankinde.
- Prologue, l. 715

And ther-with-al, he knew of mo proverbes
Than in this world ther growen gras or herbes.
- Prologue, l. 773
  Proverbs 11:22, 21:9

A womman cast hir shame away,
Whan she cast of hir smok.
- Prologue, l. 782

He yaf me al the brydel in myn hond
To han the governance of hous and lond,
And of his tonge and of his hond also.
- Prologue, l. 813

“Myn owene trewe wyf,
Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf,
Keep thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat”—
After that day we hadden never debaat.
- Prologue, l. 819

This is a long preamble of a tale!
- Prologue, l. 831 (Friar loq.)

In th'olde dayes of the king Arthour,
Of which that Britons speken greet honour,
All was this land fulfild of fayerye.
The elf-queen, with hir joly companye,
Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede;
This was the olde opinion, as I rede,
I speke of manye hundred yeres ago;
But now can no man see none elves mo.
- Tale, l. 1

For now the grete charitee and prayeres
Of limitours and othere holy freres,
That serchen every lond and every streem,
As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem,
Blessinge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures,
Citees, burghes, castels, hye toures,
Thropes, bernes, shipnes, dayeryes,
This maketh that ther been no fayeryes.
- Tale, l. 9

Of whiche mayde anon, maugree hir heed,
By verray force he rafte hir maydenheed.
- Tale, l. 31

Somme seyde, wommen loven best richesse,
Somme seyde, honour, somme seyde, jolynesse;
Somme, riche array, somme seyden, lust abedde,
And ofte tyme to be widwe and wedde.
- Tale, l. 69

I wol nat lye;
A man shal winne us best with flaterye;
And with attendance, and with bisinesse,
Been we y-lymed, bothe more and lesse.
- Tale, l. 75

‘My lige lady, generally,’ quod he,
‘Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee
As wel over hir housbond as hir love,
And for to been in maistrie him above;
This is your moste desyr, thogh ye me kille,
Doth as yow list, I am heer at your wille.’
- Tale, l. 181

Loke who that is most vertuous alway,
Privee and apert, and most entendeth ay
To do the gentil dedes that he can,
And tak him for the grettest gentil man.
- Tale, l. 257

Crist wol, we clayme of him our gentillesse,
Nat of our eldres for hir old richesse.
- Tale, l. 261

Men may wel often finde
A lordes sone do shame and vileinye;
And he that wol han prys of his gentrye
For he was boren of a gentil hous.
- Tale, l. 294

He nis nat gentil, be he duk or erl;
For vileyns sinful dedes make a cherl.
- Tale, l. 301

That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis.
- Tale, l. 314

Povert is hateful good, and, as I gesse,
A ful greet bringer out of bisinesse.
- Tale, l. 339

Povert ful ofte, whan a man is lowe,
Maketh his god and eek him-self to knowe.
Povert a spectacle is, as thinketh me,
Thurgh which he may his verray frendes see.
- Tale, l. 345

Jesu Crist us sende
Housbondes meke, yonge, and fresshe a-bedde,
And grace toverbyde hem that we wedde.
And eek I preye Iesu shorte hir lyves
That wol nat be governed by hir wyves;
And olde and angry nigardes of dispence,
God sende hem sone verray pestilence.
- Tale, l. 402

The Friar's Tale

The carl spak oo thing, but he thoghte another.
- Tale, l. 270

The Summoner's Tale

Lyk an aspen leef he quook.
- Prologue, l. 3

This Frere bosteth that he knoweth helle,
And god it woot, that it is litel wonder;
Freres and feendes been but lyte a-sonder.
For pardee, ye han ofte tyme herd telle,
How that a frere ravisshed was to helle
In spirit ones by a visioun;
And as an angel ladde him up and doun,
To shewen him the peynes that ther were,
In al the place saugh he nat a frere;
Of other folk he saugh y-nowe in wo.
Un-to this angel spak the frere tho:
“Now, sir,” quod he, “han freres swich a grace
That noon of hem shal come to this place?”
“Yis,” quod this angel, “many a millioun!”
And un-to Sathanas he ladde him doun.
“And now hath Sathanas,” seith he, “a tayl
Brodder than of a carrik is the sayl.
Hold up thy tayl, thou Sathanas!” quod he,
“Shewe forth thyn ers, and lat the frere see
Wher is the nest of freres in this place!”
And, er that half a furlong-wey of space,
Right so as bees out swarmen from an hyve,
Out of the develes ers ther gonne dryve
Twenty thousand freres in a route,
And thurgh-out helle swarmeden aboute;
And comen agayn, as faste as they may gon,
And in his ers they crepten everichon.
He clapte his tayl agayn, and lay ful stille.
- Prologue, l. 8

The Clerk's Tale

For though we slepe or wake, or rome, or ryde,
Ay fleeth the tyme, it nil no man abyde.
- Tale, l. 62

And though your grene youthe floure as yit,
In crepeth age alwey, as stille as stoon,
And deeth manaceth every age, and smit
In ech estaat, for ther escapeth noon:
And al so certein as we knowe echoon
That we shul deye, as uncerteyn we alle
Been of that day whan deeth shal on us falle.
- Tale, l. 64
  And through you are still in the flower of your young manhood, age creeps on steadily, as quiet as a stone, and death menaces every age and strikes in every rank, for no one escapes. As surely as we know that we will die, so we are uncertain of the day when death shall fall on us. (trans. R. M. Lumiansky)

Ye been our lord, doth with your owene thing
Right as yow list.
- Tale, l. 596

Love is noght old as whan that it is newe.
- Tale, l. 801

Thus with hir fader, for a certeyn space,
Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience,
That neither by hir wordes ne hir face
Biforn the folk, ne eek in hir absence,
Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence.
- Tale, l. 862

O stormy peple! unsad and ever untrewe!
- Tale, l. 939

Grisilde is deed, and eek hir pacience,
And bothe atones buried in Itaille;
For which I crye in open audience,
No wedded man so hardy be tassaille
His wyves pacience, in hope to finde
Grisildes, for in certein he shall faille!
- Tale, l. 1121 (Lenvoy de Chaucer)

Ye archewyves, stondeth at defence,
Sin ye be stronge as is a greet camaille;
Ne suffreth nat that men yow doon offence.
And sclendre wyves, feble as in bataille,
Beth egre as is a tygre yond in Inde;
Ay clappeth as a mille, I yow consaille.
- Tale, l. 1139 (Lenvoy de Chaucer)

Be ay of chere as light as leef on linde,
And lat him care, and wepe, and wringe, and waille!
- Tale, l. 1155 (Lenvoy de Chaucer)

The Squire's Tale

A doghter hadde this worthy king also,
That yongest was, and highte Canacee.
- Tale, l. 24

But for to telle yow al hir beautee,
It lyth nat in my tonge, nin my conning;
I dar nat undertake so heigh a thing.
Myn English eek is insufficient;
It moste been a rethor excellent,
That coude his colours longing for that art,
If he sholde hir discryven every part.
I am non swich, I moot speke as I can.
- Tale, l. 26

The Pegasee,
The hors that hadde winges for to flee.
- Tale, l. 199

They demen gladly to the badder ende.
- Tale, l. 216

Therfor bihoveth him a ful long spoon
That shal ete with a feend.
- Tale, l. 594
  Cf. Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors, act IV, sc. iii, l. 58

Men loven of propre kinde newfangelnesse.
- Tale, l. 602

I am lorn with-outen remedye!
- Tale, l. 621

Fy on possessioun
But-if a man be vertuous with-al.
- Franklin to the Squire, l. 14

The Franklin's Tale

I sleep never on the mount of Pernaso,
Ne lerned Marcus Tullius Cithero.
- Prologue, l. 13

For o thing, sires, saufly dar I seye,
That frendes everich other moot obeye,
If they wol longe holden companye.
Love wol nat ben constreyned by maistrye;
Whan maistrie comth, the god of love anon
Beteth hise winges, and farewel! he is gon!
Love is a thing as any spirit free;
Wommen of kinde desiren libertee,
And nat to ben constreyned as a thral;
And so don men, if I soth seyen shal.
- Tale, l. 33

Pacience is an heigh vertu certeyn.
- Tale, l. 45

Servant in love, and lord in mariage.
- Tale, l. 65

Tak this for fynal answer as of me.
- Tale, l. 259

Til that the brighte sonne loste his hewe;
For thorisonte hath reft the sonne his light;
This is as muche to seye as it was night.
- Tale, l. 288

It is agayns the proces of nature.
- Tale, l. 617

Trouthe is the hyeste thing that man may kepe.
- l. 751

The Monk's Tale

For certein, whan that fortune list to flee,
Ther may no man the cours of hir withholde.
- l. 35

Ful wys is he that can him-selven knowe.
- l. 149
  "Know thyself." Cf. Heraclitus

Redeth the grete poete of Itaille,
That highte Dant, for he can al devyse
Fro point to point, nat o word wol he faille.
- l. 470

He was of knighthode and of fredom flour.
- l. 652

Tragedie is noon other maner thing,
Ne can in singing crye ne biwaille,
But for that fortune alwey wol assaille
With unwar strook the regnes that ben proude;
For when men trusteth hir, than wol she faille,
And covere hir brighte face with a cloude.
- l. 771

The Parson's Tale

For the proverbe seith: that manye smale maken a greet.
- Tale, § 21

Certes, they been lyk to houndes; for an hound, whan he comth by the roser or by othere [busshes], though he may nat pisse, yet wole he heve up his leg and make a contenaunce to pisse.
- Tale, § 76

The Canon's Yeoman's Tale

For whan a man hath over-greet a wit,
Ful oft him happeth to misusen it.
- Prologue, l. 95

The bodies sevene eek, lo! hem heer anoon:
Sol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe,
Mars yren, Mercurie quik-silver we clepe,
Saturnus leed, and Jupiter is tin,
And Venus coper, by my fader kin!
- Tale, l. 272

But al thing which that shyneth as the gold
Nis nat gold, as that I have herd it told.
- Tale, l. 409
  "All that glitters is not gold." Cf. Alain de Lille

The Manciple's Tale

Lat take a cat, and fostre him wel with milk,
And tendre flesh, and make his couche of silk,
And lat him seen a mous go by the wal;
Anon he weyveth milk, and flesh, and al,
And every deyntee that is in that hous,
Swich appetyt hath he to ete a mous.
- Tale, l. 71

For men han ever a likerous appetyt
On lower thing to parfourne hir delyt
Than on hir wyves, be they never so faire,
Ne never so trewe, ne so debonaire.
- Tale, l. 85

Flesh is so newefangel, with meschaunce,
That we ne conne in no-thing han plesaunce
That souneth in-to vertu any whyle.
- Tale, l. 89

My sone, keep wel thy tonge and keep thy freend.
- Tale, l. 215

The firste vertu, sone, if thou wolt lere,
Is to restreyne and kepe wel thy tonge.
- Tale, l. 228

Thing that is seyd, is seyd; and forth it gooth.
- Tale, l. 251

Kepe wel thy tonge, and thenk up-on the crowe.
- Tale, l. 258

The Merchant's Tale

Weping and wayling.
- Prologue, l. 1

It is no childes pley
To take a wyf with-oute avysement.
- Tale, l. 286

For love is blind.
- Tale, l. 354
  Cf. Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, act I, sc. i, l. 234

My wit is thinne.
- Tale, l. 438

Ther nis no werkman, what-so-ever he be,
That may bothe werke wel and hastily;
This wol be doon at leyser parfitly.
- Tale, l. 588

Translations

Fables, Ancient and Modern, trans. John Dryden (1700)

Canterbury Tales, trans. J. U. Nicolson (Garden City Books, 1934)

The Canterbury Tales, trans. R. M. Lumiansky (Simon and Schuster, 1948)

The Canterbury Tales, trans. Nevill Coghill (Penguin Books, 1952)

The Canterbury Tales, trans. David Wright (Oxford World's Classics, 1986 [OUP, 1985])

External links

Wikipedia

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The Canterbury Tales

Quotes

Translations

See also

External links