stint, until no thing be laft. And evermore, wherever that they gon, Men may them knowë by smell of brimstóne; For all the world they stinken as a goat; Their savour is so rammish and so hot, That though a man a milë from them be, The savour will infect him, trustë me. Lo, thus by smelling and threadbare array, If that men list, this folk they knowë may. And if a man will ask them privily, Why they be clothed so unthriftily, They right anon will rownen in his ear, And sayen, if that they espied were, Men would them slay, because of their sciénce: Lo, thus these folk betrayen innocence!
Pass over this; I go my tale unto. Ere that the pot be on the fire y-do Of metals, with a certain quantity My lord them tempers, and no man but he (Now he is gone, I dare say boldëly); For as men say, he can do craftily, Algate I wot well he hath such a name, And yet full oft he runneth into blame; And know ye how? full oft it happ’neth so, The pot to-breaks, and farewell! all is go’. These metals be of so great violence, Our wallës may not make them résistence, But if they werë wrought of lime and stone; They piercë so, that through the wall they gon; And some of them sink down into the ground (Thus have we lost by timës many a pound), And some are scatter’d all the floor about; Some leap into the roof withoutë doubt. Though that the fiend not in our sight him shew, I trowë that he be with us, that shrew; In hellë, where that he is lord and sire, Is there no morë woe, rancoúr, nor ire. When that our pot is broke, as I have said, Every man chides, and holds him evil apaid. Some said it was long on the fire-makíng; Some saidë nay, it was on the blowíng (Then was I fear’d, for that was mine offíce); “Straw!” quoth the third, “ye be lewëd and nice, It was not temper’d as it ought to be.” “Nay,” quoth the fourthë, “stint and hearken me; Because our fire was not y-made of beech, That is the cause, and other none, so thé ’ch. I cannot tell whereon it was along, But well I wot great strife is us among.” “What?” quoth my lord, “there is no more to do’n, Of these períls I will beware eftsoon. I am right sicker that the pot was crazed. Be as be may, be ye no thing amazed. As usage is, let sweep the floor as swithe; Pluck up your heartës and be glad and blithe.”