He shal be rated of his studying,
If that I may, by Jesus heven king.

Get me a staf, that I may underspore
While that thou, Robin, hevest of the dore:
He shal out of his studying, as I gesse.
And to the chambre dore he gan him dresse.
His knave was a strong carl for the nones,
And by the haspe he haf it of at ones;
Into the flore the dore fell anon.

This Nicholas sat ay as stille as ston,
And ever he gaped upward into the eire.

This carpenter wend he were in despeire, And hent him by the shulders mightily, And shoke him hard, and cried spitously; What, Nicholas? what how man? loke adoun: Awake, and thinke on Cristes passioun. I crouche thee from elves, and from wightes. Therwith the nightspel said he anon rightes, On foure halves of the hous aboute, And on the threswold of the dore withoute. Jesu Crist, and Seint Benedight, Blisse this hous from every wicked wight, Fro the nightes mare, the wite Pater-noster; Wher wonest thou Seint Peters suster?

And at the last this hendy Nicholas Gan for to siken sore, and said; Alas! Shal all the world be lost eftsones now?

This carpenter answered; What saiest thou? What? thinke on God, as we do, men that swinke, This Nicholas answered; Fetch me a drinke; And after wol I speke in privetee Of certain thing that toucheth thee and me: I wol tell it non other man certain.

This carpenter goth doun, and cometh again,

And brought of mighty ale a large quart;
And whan that eche of hem had dronken his part,
This Nicholas his dore faste shette,
And doun the carpenter by him he sette,
And saide; John, min hoste lefe and dere,
Thou shalt upon thy trouthe swere me here,
That to no wight thou shalt my conseil wrey:
For it is Cristes conseil that I say,
And if thou tell it man, thou art forlore:
For this vengeance thou shalt have therfore,
That if thou wreye me, thou shalt be wood.

Nay, Crist forbede it for his holy blood,
Quod tho this sely man; I am no labbe,
Ne though I say it, I n'am not lefe to gabbe,
Say what thou wolt, I shal it never telle
To child ne wif, by him that harwed helle.

Now, John, (quod Nicholas) I wol not lie,
I have yfounde in min astrologie,
As I have loked in the moone bright,
That now on Monday next, at quarter night,
Shal fall a rain, and that so wild and wood
That half so gret was never Noes flood.
This world (he said) in lesse than in an houre
Shal al be dreint, so hidous is the shoure:
Thus shal mankinde drenche, and lese hir lif,

This carpenter answerd; Alas my wif!
And shal she drenche? alas min Alisoun!
For sorwe of this he fell almost adoun,
And said; Is ther no remedy in this cas?

Why yes, for God, quod hendy Nicholas; If thou wolt werken after lore and rede; Thou maist not werken after thin owen hede. For thus saith Salomon, that was ful trewe; Werke all by conseil, and thou shalt not rewe,

And if thou werken wolt by good conseil,
I undertake, withouten mast or seyl,
Yet shal I saven hire, and thee and me.
Hast thou not herd how saved was Noe,
Whan that our Lord had warned him beforne,
That al the world with water shuld be lorne?
Yes, (quod this carpenter) ful yore ago.
Hast thou not herd (quod Nicholas) also
The sorwe of Noe with his felawship,
Or that he might get his wif to ship?
Him had be lever, I dare wel undertake,
At thilke time, than all his wethers blake,
That she had had a ship hireself alone.
And therfore wost thou what is best to done?
This axeth hast, and of an hastif thing
Men may not preche and maken tarying.
Anon go get us fast into this in
A kneding trough or elles a kemelyn,
For eche of us; but loke that they ben large,
In which we mowen swimme as in a barge:
And have therin vitaille suffisant
But for a day; fie on the remenant;
The water shall aslake and gon away
Abouten prime upon the nexte day.
But Robin may not wete of this, thy knave,
Ne eke thy mayden Gille I may not save:
Axe not why: for though thou axe me,
I wol not tellen Goddes privetee.
Sufficeth thee, but if thy wittes madde,
To have as gret a grace as Noe hadde.
Thy wif shal I wel saven out of doute.
Go now thy way, and spede thee hereaboute.
But whan thou hast for hire, and thee, and me,
Ygeten us these kneding tubbes thre,

Than shalt thou hang hem in the roofe ful hie,
That no man of our purveyance espie:
And whan thou hast don thus as I have said,
And hast our vitaille faire in hem ylaid,
And eke an axe to smite the cord a-two
Whan that the water cometh, that we may go,
And breke an hole on high upon the gable
Unto the gardin ward, over the stable,
That we may frely passen forth our way,
Whan that the grete shoure is gon away.
Than shal thou swim as mery, I undertake,
As doth the white doke after hire drake:
Than wol I clepe, How Alison, how John,
Be mery: for the flood wol passe anon.
And thou wolt sain, Haile maister Nicholay,
Good morwe, I see thee wel, for it is day.
And than shall we be lordes all our lif
Of all the world, as Noe and his wif.
But of o thing I warne thee ful right,
Be wel avised on that ilke night,
That we ben entred into shippes bord,
That non of us ne speke not o word,
Ne clepe ne crie, but be in his praiere,
For it is Goddes owen heste dere.

Thy wif and thou moste hangen fer a-twinne,
For that betwixen you shal be no sinne,
No more in loking than ther shal in dede.
This ordinance is said; go, God thee spede.
To-morwe at night, whan men ben all aslepe,
Into our kneding tubbes wol we crepe,
And sitten ther, abiding Goddes grace.
Go now thy way, I have no lenger space
To make of this no lenger sermoning:
Men sain thus: send the wise, and say nothing:

Thou art so wise, it nedeth thee nought teche. Go, save our lives, and that I thee beseche.

This sely carpenter goth forth his way, Ful oft he said alas, and wala wa, And to his wif he told his privetee, And she was ware, and knew it bet than he What all this queinte cast was for to sey. But natheles she ferde as she wold dey, And said; Alas! go forth thy way anon. Helpe us to scape, or we be ded eche on. I am thy trewe veray wedded wif; Go, dere spouse, and helpe to save our lif.

Lo, what a gret thing is affection, Men may die of imagination, So depe may impression be take. This sely carpenter beginneth quake: Him thinketh veraily that he may see Noes flood comen walwing as the see To drenchen Alison, his hony dere. He wepeth, waileth, maketh sory chere; He siketh, with ful many a sory swough. He goth, and geteth him a kneding trough, And after a tubbe, and a kemelin, And prively he sent hem to his in: And heng hem in the roof in privetee. His owen hond than made he ladders three, To climben by the renges and the stalkes Unto the tubbes honging in the balkes; And vitailled bothe kemelin, trough and tubbe, With bred and chese, and good ale in a jubbe, Sufficing right ynow as for a day.

But er that he had made all this array, He sent his knave, and eke his wenche also Upon his nede to London for to go.