I wot wel by the cradel I have misgo;
Here lith the miller and his wif alfo.
And forth he goth a twenty


Unto the bed, ther as the miller lay.
He wend have cropen by his felaw John,
And by the miller in he crept anon,
And caught him by the nekke, and gan him shake,
And sayd, Thou John, thou swineshed, awake 4260
For Cristes saule, and here a noble game;
For by that lord that called is Seint Jame,
As I have thries as in this short night
Swived the millers doughter bolt upright
While thou hast as a coward ben agaft. 4265

Ye, false harlot, quod the miller, haft? A, false traitour, false clerk, (quod he) Thou shalt be ded by Goddes dignitee, Who dorste be so bold to disparage My doughter, that is come of swiche linage. 4270 And by the throte-bolle he caught Altin, And he him hent despitously again, And on the nose he finote him with his fift; Doun ran the blody ftreme upon his breft: And in the flore with nose and mouth to-broke 4275 They walwe, as don two pigges in a poke. And up they gon, and doun again anon, Til that the miller sporned at a ston, And doun he fell backward upon his wif, 'That wiste nothing of this nice ftrif: 4280

For she was fall aslepe a litel wight
With John the clerk, that waked had all night,
And with the fall out of hire slepe she braide.
Helpe, holy crois of Bromeholme! (she fayde)
In manus tuas, Lord, to thee I call.

Awake, Simond, the fend is on me fall;
Myn herte is broken; helpe; I n'am but ded;
Ther lith on up my wombe and up wyn hed:
Helpe, Simkin, for the false clerkes fight.
This John stert up as fast as ever he might, 4290
And graspeth by the walles to and fro
To find a staf, and the stert up also,
And knew the estres bet than did this John,
And by the wall fne toke a staf anon,
And saw a litel shemering of a light, 4295
For at an hole in thone the mone bright,
And by that light she saw hem bothe two,
But sikerly she n'isie who was who,
But as the faw a white thing in hire eye;
And whan she gạn this white thing espie 4300
She wend the clerk had wered a volupere,
And with the staf Me drow ay nere and nere,
And wend han hit this Alein alte full,
And smote the miller on the pilled skull,
That doun he goth, and cried, Harrow! I die. 4305
Thise clerkes bete him wel, and let him lie,
And greithen hem, and take hir hors anon,
And ekc hir mcle, and on hir way they gon;

And at the mille dore eke they toke hir cake
Of half a bushel flour ful wel ybake.

Thus is the proude miller wel ybette,
And hath ylost the grinding of the whete,
And paid for the souper every del
Of Alein and of John that bete him wel;
His wif is fwived and his doughter als; 4315
Lo, swiche it is a miller to be fals:
And therfore this proverb is fayd ful futh,
Him thar not winnen wel that evil doth;
A gilour shal himself begiled be;
And God, that fiteth hie in mageftee, 4320
Save all this compagnie gret and smale.
Thus have I quit the miller in my Tale.

THE ÇOKES PROLOGUE. The Coke of London, while the Reve spake, For joye (him thought) he clawed him on the bak: A ha (quod he) for Cristes paflion,

4325 This miller had a sharpe conclusion Upon this argument of herbergage. Wel fayde Salomon in his langage Ne bring not every man into thin heus, For herberwing by night is perilous.

4330 . 4318. Him thar net] I have reftored this old word

upon the authority of the best mss. in this and other places. See ver. 5911, 5918,6947, 17301. It is derived from the Sax. thearsian, nec de, havere, and is generally used as an impersonal. Him behoveth not to winne or acquire good tliat doth evil." I have ventured to subftitute winne instead of the common reading wene, of which I could make no fenfe. Mj. B. . reads, He may nought wilne.

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Wel ought a man avised for to be
Whom that he brought into his privetec.
I pray to God fo yeve me forwe and care
If ever, sithen I highte Hodge of Ware,
Herd I a miller bet ysette a-werk;

4335 He had a jape of malice in the derk.

But God forbede that we stinten here,
And therfore if ye vouchen fauf to here
A Tale of me that am a poure man,
I wol you tell as welus ever I can
A litel jape that fell in our citec.

Our Holle answerd and fayde, I grant it thee:
Now tell on, Roger, and loke that it be good,

many a pastee hast thou letten blood,
And many a Jacke of Dover halt thou sold 4345
That hath been twies hot and twies cold:
Of many a pilgrim haft thou Cristes curse,
For of thy persclee yet fare they the werse,

. 4345. a Jike of Dover] The general purport of this phrase is fufficiently explained in the foliowing iine, but the particular meaning I have not been able to investigate.

.4348.6ftby perfelue] An old Boke of Kokery, which I have confuited upon this occalion, mf. Harl. 4016, las a receipt for “ gole or capon farced,” but it does not mention parseley; it only says in general terms, “ Take yolkes of eyeron (egges) " hard yfodde and hew lemn sinale with the herbes -- and casie " therto pouder of ginger peper canell and salt and grapes in “ tyme of yere." --Thave lately met with another (I fuppose the true) receipt for ituifing a gcore, in mí. Hirl. 279. It begins--" Take fercely and swy.zis grece or fewet of a thepie " and parboyle hem," Sc.

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That they han eten in thy foble goos,
For in thy shop goth many a flie loos, 4350
Now tell on, gentil Roger by thy name,
But yet I pray thee be not wroth for game;
A nian may say ful foth in

and play.
Thou sayft ful soth, quod Roger, by my fay;
But foth play quade spel, as the Fleming faith, 4335
And therfore, Herry Bailly, by thy faith
Be thou not wroth, or we departen bere,
Though that my Tale be of an hoftelere:
But natheles, I wol not telle it yet,
But er we part ywis thou shalt be quit.
And therwithal he lough and made chere,
And sayd his Tale, as ye shul after here.


THE COKES TALE, A Prentis whilom dwelt in our citee, And of a craft of vitaillers was be: Gaillard he was goldfinch in the shawe, 4365 Broune as a bery, a propre short felawe, With lokkes blake kembed ful fetilly : Dancen he coude fo wel and jolily

v. 4355. fon play quatie ipel] As this is said to have been a Flemith proverb I have inserted spel from mfi. Alk. 1, 2, ina stead of the common reading play. Spel, in Teut. is ludus, as quade or quaed is malus. Sir John Harrington, in his Apologie of Poetrie, quotes an old laying of the fame import, Sorb bourde is no bourde. : The Cokes Tale] The description of an unthristy prentice given to dice, women, and wine, wasting thereby his master's goods, and purchasing to himself Newgate. The moft part of this Tale is loft, or never finithed by the Author,

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