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For to the, and thine fere,

I bitok mi sone to lere,

Ye taughte him to nimen forth min emprice!""Sire, quath Catoun, swich wordes beth nice.”"And his speche is forlore."

"Nai sire, and he finde your grace bifore.
Thi wif wolde he forlain haue nowt;
Yif thou hit leuest, thou art bicought.

Ac yif thou do thi sone duresse,
On the falle swich a destresse,
And swich a maner vileynie,

As hadde the burgeis for his pie."

"O, maister, he saide, what? what?

I thè praie, tel me that!”

"Sire, he saide, what helpeth hit mi sawe,
Gif thi sone therwhiles beth i-slawe ?
Ac let him fechche quik ayain,

And I thè schal mi tale sain."

The emperour of Rome, Dioclician,

His sone he het fechche anon.

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THE X. TALE.

THE MAGPIE.

Nou, everich man that loueth his hale. Lestne wel Catones tale!

"A burgeis was in Rome toun, A riche man of gret renoun; Marchaunt he was of gret auoir, And had a wif was queint and fair; But sche was fikel, vnder hir lok, And hadde a parti of Eue smok:

And manie ben yit of hire kinne,

That ben al bilapped therinne!

"The burgers hadde a pie in his halle,

That couthe telle tales alle

Apertlich, in French langage,

And heng in a fair cage,

And seth lemmans comen and gon,
And teld hire louerd sone anon;

And, for that the pie hadde i-said,
The wif was ofte iuel i-paid.
And the burgeis louede his pie,
For he wiste he couthe nowt lie.

"So hit bifil, vpon a dai,

The burgeis fram home tok his wai,

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And wente aboute his marchaundise:

The wif waited anon hire prise,

And sente here copiner fore;

And whanne he com to the halle dore,
He ne dorste nowt in hie,

For the wreiing of the pie.

The wif him bi the hond hent,
And into chaumbre anon thei went.
“The pie bigan to grede anon,
"Ya! now mi louerd is out i-gon,
Thou comest hider for no gode!
I schal you wraie bi the rode!"
The wif thought schent sche was.
A wrenche sche thoughte nathelas;
And clepede a maide to make here bed,
And after, bi hir bother red,

A laddre thai sette the halle to,
And vndede a tile or two;
Ouer the pie thai gan handel

A cler bacyn, and a candel;
A pot ful of water cler

Thai sschadde upon the pies swer.
With bacyn beting, and kandel light,
Tha bobbed the pie bi night,

And water on him gan schenche:
This was on of wommannes wrenche.

"Tho the dai dawen gan,

Awai stal the yonge man.

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Men vnlek dore and windòwe;

The pie him schok with mochel howe,
For ssche was fain that hit was dai:
The copiner was went his wai.
The gode burgeis was hom i-come;
Into the halle the wai he nome.

The pie saide," Bi God Almight!

The copiner was her to-night,

And hath i-don the mochel sschame;

I-mad an hore of oure dame!

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And yit hit had ben, to-night,
Gret rain, and thonder bright;
Sehthen ich was brid in mi nest,
I ne hadde neuere so iuel rest."

"The wif hath the tale i-herd,
And thoughte wel to ben amered;
And saide, "Sire, thou hast outrage
To leue a pie in a kage!

To-night was the weder fair and cler,
And the firmament wel fair;

And sche saith hit hath ben thonder:
Sche hath i-lowe mani a wonder;
But ich be awreke of here swithe,
Ne schal I neuer ben womman blithe!"
"The godeman askede his neghebours,

Of that night, and of the ours;
And thai saide, that al that night,
Was the weder cler and bright.

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The burgeis saide, the pie,

Ne scholde him namore lie.
Nammo wordes he thar spak,
But, al so swithe, his nekke to-brak.
"And whanne he segh his pie ded,

For sorewe coude he no red:

He seghgh hir and his cage,

He thoughte of gile and of outrage.
He wente him out, the ladder he segth,
And up to the halle rof he stegth.
The pot with the water he fond;

(That he brak with his hond ;) And manie other trecherie,

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That was i-don to his pie.

He went him doun, withouten oth,

In his herte grim and wroth

;

And with a god staf, ful sket,

His wif ate dore he bet;

And bad hire go, that ilche dai,
On alder twenti deuel wai!

"Lo sire, he seide, for a foles red,

The pie, that seide soht, was ded;

Hadde he taken god conseil,

His pie hadde ben hol and hale;
And al so fareth thin emperice,

Thourgh here resoun, sscherewed and nice,

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