The Tale

In all his dread unto the fox he spake, And saidë, “Sir, if that I were as ye, Yet would I say (as wisly God help me), ‘Turn ye again, ye proudë churlës all; A very pestilence upon you fall. Now am I come unto the woodë’s side, Maugré your head, the cock shall here abide; I will him eat, in faith, and that anon.’ ” The fox answér’d, “In faith it shall be done:” And, as he spake the word, all suddenly The cock brake from his mouth deliverly, And high upon a tree he flew anon. And when the fox saw that the cock was gone, “Alas!” quoth he, “O Chanticleer, alas! I have,” quoth he, “y-done to you trespass, Inasmuch as I maked you afear’d, When I you hent, and brought out of your yard; But, Sir, I did it in no wick’ intent; Come down, and I shall tell you what I meant. I shall say sooth to you, God help me so.” “Nay then,” quoth he, “I shrew us both the two, And first I shrew myself, both blood and bones, If thou beguile me oftener than once. Thou shalt no more through thy flattery Do me to sing and winkë with mine eye; For he that winketh when he shouldë see, All wilfully, God let him never thé.” “Nay,” quoth the fox; “but God give him mischance That is so indiscreet of governánce, That jangleth when that he should hold his peace.”