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CANTERBURY TALES

THE SUMMONER'S TALE

by Geoffrey Chaucer

THE SUMMONER'S TALE -

Masters, there is in Yorkshire, as I guess,

A marshy region that's called Holderness,

Wherein there went a limiter about

To preach, and to beg too, beyond a doubt.

And so befell that on a day this friar

Had preached in church in his own manner dire,

And specially, and above everything,

Incited he the people, by preaching,

To trentals, and to give, for God's own sake,

The means wherewith men might new churches make,

That there the services of God might flower,

And not to them who waste and wealth devour,

Nor where there's no necessity to give,

As to the monks, who easily may live-

Thanks be to God!- and need no wealth to gain.

"Trentals," said he, "deliver from their pain

The souls of friends who're dead, the old and young,

Yea, even when they have been hastily sung;

Not that I hold as frivolous and gay,

A priest who only sings one mass a day.

"Act quickly now," said he, "their souls redeem,

For hard it is, with spikes and hooks, I deem,

To be so torn, aye, or to burn or bake;

Now speed you all to this, for Christ's own sake!"

And when this friar had said all that he meant,

With cui cum patre on his way he went.

When folk in church had given at his behest,

He went his way, no longer would he rest,

With scrip and ferruled staff and skirts tucked high;

In every house he went to peer and pry,

And beg for flour and cheese, or else for corn.

His fellow had a staff was tipped with horn,

A set of tablets all of ivory,

And stylus that was polished elegantly,

And wrote the names down always as he stood,

Of those that gave him anything of good,

As if for them he later meant to pray.

"Give us of wheat or malt or rye," he'd say,

"A bushel; or a God's cake; or some cheese;

We may not choose, so give us what you please;

Give us God's halfpenny or a mass-penny,

Or give us of your brawn, if you have any;

A small piece of your blanket, my dear dame,

Our sister dear, lo, here I write your name;

Bacon or beef, or such thing as you find."

A sturdy menial went these two behind-

The servant of their host- and bore a sack,

And what men gave them, laid it on his back.

And when they'd left the house, why, then anon

He planed away the names of folk, each one,

That he before had written on his tables;

And thus he served them mockeries and fables.

("Nay, there you lie, you summoner!" cried the friar.

"Peace, for Christ's Mother's sake, call no one liar!"

Our host said. "Tell your tale, nor spare at all."

"So thrive I," said this summoner, "that I shall.")

Along he went from house to house, till he

Came to a house where he was wont to be

Refreshed more than in hundred places round.

And sick the goodman of the place he found;

Bedridden on a couch he prostrate lay.

"Deus hic," said he. "Thomas, my friend, good day,"

Said he, this friar, courteously and soft.

"Thomas," said he, "may God repay you! Oft

Have I sat on this bench and fared right well.

Here have I eaten many a merry meal."

And from the bench he drove away the cat,

And laid down there his steel-tipped staff and hat

And his scrip, too, and sat him softly down.

His fellow had gone walking into town,

With the said menial, to a hostelry

Wherein he thought that very night to lie.

"O my dear master," whispered this sick man,

"How have you fared since this month March began?

"I've seen you not this fortnight, aye or more."

"God knows," said he, "that I have toiled full sore;

And very specially for your salvation

Have I said precious prayers, and at each station,

And for our other friends, whom may God bless!

I have today been to your church, at Mass,

And preached a sermon after my poor wit,

Not wholly from the text of holy writ,

For that is hard and baffling in the main;

And therefore all its meaning I'll explain.

Glosing's a glorious thing, and that's certain,

For letters kill, as scholars say with pain.

Thus have I taught them to be charitable,

And spend their money reasonably, as well.

And there I saw your dame- ah, where is she?"

"Yonder within the yard I think she'll be,"

Said this sick man, "and she will come anon."

"Eh, master! Welcome be you, by Saint John!"

Exclaimed the wife. "How fare you, heartily?"

The friar arose, and that full courteously,

And her embraced within his two arms narrow,

And kissed her sweetly, chirping like a sparrow

With his two lips. "Ah, dame," said he, "right well

As one that is your servant, let me tell,

Thanks be to God Who gave you soul and life,