Oh, patán necio y orgulloso, maldito sea su rostro. ¡Miren, señores —dijo el señor—, con mala estrella, quién oyó jamás cosa semejante antes de ahora? ¿A cada hombre por igual? díganme cómo. Es imposible, no puede ser. Eh, patán necio, que Dios jamás lo prospere. El retumbo de un pedo, y cualquier sonido, no es más que reverberación de aire, y se va consumiendo poco a poco; no hay hombre que pueda juzgar, a fe mía, si se repartió por igual. ¡Qué? Miren, mi patán, miren aún con qué astucia le habló hoy a mi confesor; lo tengo ciertamente por un endemoniado. ¡Coman ahora su comida, y dejen jugar al patán, que se vaya a colgar al lugar del diablo!».
Now stood the lordë’s squiër at the board, That carv’d his meat, and heardë word by word Of all this thing, which that I have you said. > “My lord,” quoth he, “be ye not evil paid, > I couldë tellë, for a gownë-cloth, > To you, Sir Friar, so that ye be not wroth, > How that this fart should even dealed be > Among your convent, if it liked thee.” > > “Tell,” quoth the lord, “and thou shalt have anon > A gownë-cloth, by God and by Saint John.” “My lord,” quoth he, “when that the weather is fair, Withoutë wind, or perturbíng of air, Let bring a cart-wheel here into this hall, But lookë that it have its spokës all; Twelve spokës hath a cart-wheel commonly; And bring me then twelve friars, know ye why? For thirteen is a convent as I guess; Your confessór here, for his worthiness, Shall perform up the number of his convént. Then shall they kneel adown by one assent, And to each spokë’s end, in this mannére, Full sadly lay his nosë shall a frere; Your noble confessór there, God him save,