The Miller’s TaleThe Prologue
When that the Knight had thus his tale toldIn all the rout was neither young nor old,That he not said it was a noble story,And worthy to be drawen to memory;And namely the gentles every one.Our Host then laugh’d and swore, “So may I gon,This goes aright; unbuckled is the mail;Let see now who shall tell another tale:For truely this game is well begun.Now telleth ye, Sir Monk, if that ye conne,Somewhat, to quiten with the Knighte’s tale.”The Miller that fordrunken was all pale,So that unnethes upon his horse he sat,He would avalen neither hood nor hat,Nor abide no man for his courtesy,But in Pilate’s voice he gan to cry,And swore by armes, and by blood, and bones,“I can a noble tale for the nonesWith which I will now quite the Knighte’s tale.”Our Host saw well how drunk he was of ale,And said; “Robin, abide, my leve brother,Some better man shall tell us first another:Abide, and let us worke thriftily.”By Godde’s soul,” quoth he, “that will not I,For I will speak, or elles go my way!”Our Host answer’d; “Tell on a devil way;Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome.”“Now hearken,” quoth the Miller, “all and some:But first I make a protestatioun.That I am drunk, I know it by my soun’:And therefore if that I misspeak or say,Wite it the ale of Southwark, I you pray:For I will tell a legend and a lifeBoth of a carpenter and of his wife,How that a clerk hath set the wrighte’s cap.”The Reeve answer’d and saide, “Stint thy clap,Let be thy lewed drunken harlotry.It is a sin, and eke a great follyTo apeiren any man, or him defame,And eke to bringe wives in evil name.Thou may’st enough of other thinges sayn.”This drunken Miller spake full soon again,And saide, “Leve brother Osewold,Who hath no wife, he is no cuckold.But I say not therefore that thou art one;There be full goode wives many one.Why art thou angry with my tale now?I have a wife, pardie, as well as thou,Yet n’old I, for the oxen in my plough,Taken upon me more than enough,To deemen of myself that I am one;I will believe well that I am none.An husband should not be inquisitiveOf Godde’s privity, nor of his wife.So he may finde Godde’s foison there,Of the remnant needeth not to enquere.”
What should I more say, but that this MillereHe would his wordes for no man forbear,But told his churlish tale in his mannere;Me thinketh, that I shall rehearse it here.And therefore every gentle wight I pray,For Godde’s love to deem not that I sayOf evil intent, but that I must rehearseTheir tales all, be they better or worse,Or elles falsen some of my mattere.And therefore whoso list it not to hear,Turn o’er the leaf, and choose another tale;For he shall find enough, both great and smale,Of storial thing that toucheth gentiless,And eke morality and holiness.Blame not me, if that ye choose amiss.The Miller is a churl, ye know well this,So was the Reeve, with many other mo’,And harlotry they tolde bothe two.Avise you now, and put me out of blame;And eke men should not make earnest of game.