The Reeve's Tale
Folio 46r
9 of 10 folios
Whil thow hast as a Coward been agast
¶ Ye false harlot quod the Miller hast ;
A false traitour / false clerk quod he
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Thow shalt be deed / by goddes dignitee
Who dorste be so boold / to disparage
My doghter that is come / of swich lynage
And by the throte bolle / he caughte Alayn
And he hente hym / despitously agayn
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And on the nose / he smoot hym with his fest
Doun ran the blody streem / vp on his brest
And in the floor / with nose and mouth to broke
They walwe / as doon two pigges in a poke
And vp they goon / and doun agayn anon
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Til that the Miller / sporned at a stoon
And doun he fil / bakward vp on his wyf /
That wiste no thyng / of this nyce stryf /
For she was falle aslepe alite wigħt
With Ioħn the clerk / that waked hadde al nygħt
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And wt the fal / out of hir sleepe she breyde
Help hooly croys of Bromholm / she seyde
In manus tuas / lord to thee I calle
Awak Symond / the feend is on vs falle
Myn herte is broken / help I nam but deed
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Ther lyth oon / vp on my wombe / and on myn heed
Helpe Symkyn / for the false clerkes figħte
¶ This Ioħn stirte vp / as soone as euer he mygħte
And graspeth by the walles to and fro
To fynde a staf / and she stirte vp also
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And knew the Estres / bet than dide this Ioħn
And by the wal / a staf she foond anon
And saugh / a litel shymeryng of a ligħt
For at an hole / In shoon the moone brigħt
And by that light she saugh hem bothe two
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But sikerly / she nyste / who was who
But as she saugħ / a whit thyng in hir eye
And whan she gan / the white thyng espye
She wende the clerk hadde wered a volupeer
And wt the staf / she drow ay neer and neer
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And wende han hit this Aleyn at the fulle
And smoot the Miller / on the pyled skulle
And doun he gooth / and cride harrow I dye
Thise clerkes beete hym weel / and lete hym lye
And greythen hem / and tooke hir hors anon
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And eek hir mele / and on hir wey they gon
And at the Mille / yet they tooke hir cake
Of half a bussħel flour / ful wel ybake
Thus is the proude Miller wel ybete
And hath ylost the gryndynge of the whete