Now, dere lady,-if thy wille be,
I pray you that ye-wol rewe on me;
Ful wel accordant to his giterning.

This carpenter awoke, and herd him sing,
And spake unto his wif, and said anon,
What, Alison, heres thou not Absolon,
That chanteth thus under our boures wal?
And she answerd hire husbond therwithal;
Yes, God wot, John, I here him every del.
This passeth forth; what wol ye bet than wel?
Fro day to day this joly Absolon

So loveth hire, that him is wo-begon.

He waketh all the night, and all the day,
He kembeth his lockes brode, and made him gay.
He woeth hire by menes and brocage,
And swore he wolde ben hire owen page,
He singeth brokking as a nightingale.
He sent hire pinnes, methe, and spiced ale,
And wafres piping hot out of the glede:
And for she was of toun, he profered mede.
For som folk wol be wonnen for richesse,
And som for strokes, and som with gentillesse,
Somtime to shew his lightnesse and maistrie
He plaieth Herode on a skaffold hie.
But what availeth him as in this cas?
So loveth she this hendy Nicholas,
That Absolon may blow the buckes horne:
He ne had for his labour but a scorne.
And thus she maketh Absolon hire ape,
And all his ernest tourneth to a jape.
Ful soth is this proverbe, it is no lie;
Men say right thus alway; the neighe slie
Maketh oft time the fer leef to be lothe.
For though that Absolon be wood or wrothe,

Because that he fer was from hire sight,
This neighe Nicholas stood in his light.
Now bere thee wel, thou hendy Nicholas,
For Absolon may waile and sing alas.
And so befell that on a Saturday,
This carpenter was gon to Osenay,
And hendy Nicholas and Alison
Accorded ben to this conclusion,
That Nicholas shal shapen him a wile
This sely jalous husbond to begile;
And if so were the game went aright,
She shuld slepe in his armes alle night,
For this was hire desire and his also.
And right anon, withouten wordes mo,
This Nicholas no lenger wolde tarie,
But doth ful soft unto his chambre carie
Both mete and drinke for a day or twey.

And to hire husbond bad hire for to sey,
If that he axed after Nicholas,

She shulde say, she n'iste not wher he was;
Of all the day she saw him not with eye,
She trowed he was in som maladie,
For for no crie hire maiden coud him calle
He n'olde answer, for nothing that might falle.
Thus passeth forth all thilke Saturday,
That Nicholas still in his chambre lay,
And ete, and slept, and dide what him list
Til Sonday, that the sonne goth to rest.

This sely carpenter hath gret mervaile
Of Nicholas, or what thing might him aile,
And said; I am adrad by Seint Thomas
It stondeth not aright with Nicholas :
God shilde that he died sodenly.
This world is now ful tikel sikerly.

I saw to-day a corps yborne to cherche,
That now on Monday last I saw him werche.
Go up (quod he unto his knave) anon;
Clepe at his dore, or knocke with a ston:
Loke how it is, and tell me boldely.

This knave goth him up ful sturdely,
And at the chambre dore while that he stood,
He cried and knocked as that he were wood:
What how? what do ye, maister Nicholay?
How may ye slepen all the longe day?
But all for nought, he herde not a word.
An hole he found ful low upon the bord,
Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe,
An at that hole he loked in ful depe,
And at the last he had of him a sight.
This Nicholas sat ever gaping upright,
As he had kyked on the newe mone.
Adoun he goth, and telleth his maister sone,
In what array he saw this ilke man.

This carpenter to blissen him began, And said; Now helpe us Seinte Frideswide. A man wote litel what shal him betide. This man is fallen with his astronomie In som woodnesse or in som agonie. I thought ay wel how that it shulde be. Men shulde not knowe of Goddes privetee. Ya blessed be alway a lewed man, That nought but only his beleve can. So ferd another clerk with astronomie; He walked in the feldes for to prie Upon the sterres, what ther shuld befalle, Till he was in a marlepit yfalle.

He saw not that. But yet by Seint Thomas Me reweth sore of hendy Nicholas :

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,

wrey:

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
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.