The Tale

stopped with wax well For to keep in his limaile every deal. And while this priest was in his business, This canon with his stickë gan him dress To him anon, and his powder cast in, As he did erst (the devil out of his skin Him turn, I pray to God, for his falsehéad, For he was ever false in thought and deed), And with his stick, above the crossëlet, That was ordained with that falsë get, He stirr’d the coalës, till relentë gan The wax against the fire, as every man, But he a fool be, knows well it must need. And all that in the stickë was out yede, And in the croslet hastily it fell. Now, goodë Sirs, what will ye bet than well? When that this priest was thus beguil’d again, Supposing naught but truthë, sooth to sayn, He was so glad, that I can not express In no mannére his mirth and his gladnéss; And to the canon he proffér’d eftsoon Body and good. “Yea,” quoth the canon soon, “Though poor I be, crafty thou shalt me find; I warn thee well, yet is there more behind. Is any copper here within?” said he. “Yea, Sir,” the priestë said, “I trow there be.” “Ellës go buy us some, and that as swithë. Now, goodë Sir, go forth thy way and hie thee.” He went his way, and with the copper came, And this canón it in his handës name, And of that copper weighed out an ounce. Too simple is my tonguë to pronounce, As minister of my wit, the doubleness Of this canon, root of all cursedness. He friendly seem’d to them that knew him not; But he was fiendly, both in work and thought. It wearieth me to tell of his falsenéss; And natheless yet will I it express, To that intent men may beware thereby, And for none other causë truëly. He put this copper in the crossëlet, And on the fire as swithe he hath it set, And cast in powder, and made the priest to blow, And in his working for to stoopë low, As he did erst, and all was but a jape; Right as him list the priest he made his ape. And afterward in the ingot he it cast, And in the pan he put it at the last Of water, and in he put his own hand; And in his sleeve, as ye beforëhand Heardë me tell, he had a silver teine; He silly took it out, this cursed heine (Unweeting this priest of his falsë craft), And in the pannë’s bottom he it laft. And in the water rumbleth to and fro, And wondrous privily took up alsó The copper teine (not knowing thilkë