The Tale

privity. Yea, blessed be alway a lewëd man, That nought but only his believë can. So far’d another clerk with astrónomý: He walked in the fieldës for to pry Upon the starrës, what there should befall, Till he was in a marlë pit y-fall. He saw not that. But yet, by Saint Thomas! Me rueth sore of Hendy Nicholas: He shall be rated of his studying, If that I may, by Jesus, heaven’s king! Get me a staff, that I may underspore While that thou, Robin, heavest off the door: He shall out of his studying, as I guess.” And to the chamber door he gan him dress. His knavë was a strong carl for the nonce, And by the hasp he heav’d it off at once; Into the floor the door fell down anon. This Nicholas sat aye as still as stone, And ever he gap’d upward into the air. The carpenter ween’d he were in despair, And hent him by the shoulders mightily, And shook him hard, and cried spitously; “What, Nicholas? what how, man? look adown: Awake, and think on Christë’s passioún. I crouchë thee from elvës, and from wights.” Therewith the night-spell said he anon rights, On the four halvës of the house about, And on the threshold of the door without. “Lord Jesus Christ, and Saintë Benedight, Blessë this house from every wicked wight,