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I have not seen him here at work

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Dołączył: 09 Paź 2011
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Skąd: England

 PostWysłany: Pią 13:00, 14 Paź 2011    Temat postu: I have not seen him here at work Back to top

He wept, he wailed, he made but sorry cheer, He sighed and made full many a sob and sough. He went and got himself a kneadingtrough And, after that, two tubs he somewhere found And to his dwelling privately sent round, And hung them near the roof, all secretly. With his own hand, then, made he ladders three, To climb up by the rungs thereof, it seems, And reach the tubs left hanging to the beams; And those he victualled, tubs and kneadingtrough, With bread and cheese and good jugged ale, enough To satisfy the needs of one full day. But ere he'd put all this in such array, He sent his servants, boy and maid, right down Upon some errand into London town. And on the Monday, when it came on night, He shut his door, without a candlelight, And ordered everything as it should be. And shortly after up they climbed, all three; They sat while one might plow a furlongway. "Now, by Our Father, hush!" said Nicholay, And "Hush!" said John, and "Hush!" said Alison. This carpenter, his loud devotions done, Sat silent, saying mentally a prayer, And waiting for the rain, to hear it there. The deathlike sleep of utter weariness Fell on this woodwright even. (as I guess) About the curfew time, or little more; For travail of his spirit he groaned sore, And soon he snored, for badly his head lay. Down by the ladder crept this Nicholay, And Alison, right softly down she sped. Without more words they went and got in bed Even where the carpenter was wont to lie. There was the revel and the melody! And thus lie Alison and Nicholas, In joy that goes by many an alias, Until the bells for lauds began to ring And friars to the chancel went to sing. This parish clerk, this amorous Absalom, Whom love has made so woebegone and dumb, Upon the Monday was down Osney way, With company, to find some sport and play; And there he chanced to ask a cloisterer, Privately, after John the carpenter. This monk drew him apart, out of the kirk, And said: "I have not seen him here at work.

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The Canterbury Tales The Canterbury Tales 75Since Saturday; I think well that he went For timber, that the abbot has him sent; For he is wont for timber thus to go, Remaining at the grange a day or so; Or else he's surely at his house today; But which it is I cannot truly say." This Absalom right happy was and light, And thought: "Now is the time to wake all night; For certainly I saw him not stirring About his door since day began to spring. So may I thrive, as I shall, at cock's crow, Knock cautiously upon that window low Which is so placed upon his bedroom wall. To Alison then will I tell of all My lovelonging, and thus I shall not miss That at the least I'll have her lips to kiss. Some sort of comfort shall I have, I say, My mouth's been itching all this livelong day; That is a sign of kissing at the least. All night I dreamed, too, I was at a feast. Therefore I'll go and sleep two hours away And all this night then will I wake and play." And so when time of first cockcrow was come, Up rose this merry lover, Absalom, And dressed him gay and all at pointdevice, But first he chewed some licorice and spice So he'd smell sweet, ere he had combed his hair. Under his tongue some bits of truelove rare, For thereby thought he to be more gracious. He went, then, to the carpenter's dark house. And silent stood beneath the shotwindow; Unto his breast it reached, it was so low; And he coughed softly, in a low half tone: "What do you, honeycomb, sweet Alison? My cinnamon, my fair bird, my sweetie, Awake, O darling mine, and speak to me! It's little thought you give me and my woe, Who for your love do sweat where'er I go. Yet it's no wonder that I faint and sweat; I long as does the lamb for mother's teat. Truly, sweetheart, I have such lovelonging That like a turtledove's my true yearning; And I can eat no more than can a maid." "Go from the window, Jackanapes," she said, "For, s'help me God, it is not 'come kiss me.' I love another, or to blame I'd be, Better than you, by Jesus, Absalom! Go on your way, or I'll stone you therefrom, And let me sleep, the fiends take you away!" "Alas," quoth Absalom, "and welaway! That true love ever was so ill beset! The Canterbury Tales The Canterbury Tales 76But kiss me, since you'll do no more, my pet, For Jesus' love and for the love of me." "And will you go, then, on your way?" asked she, "Yes truly, darling," said this Absalom. "Then make you ready," said she, "and I'll come!" And unto Nicholas said she, low and still: "Be silent now, and you shall laugh your fill." This Absalom plumped down upon his knees, And said: "I am a lord in all degrees; For after this there may be better still Darling, my sweetest bird, I wait your will." The window she unbarred, and that in haste. "Have done," said she, "come on, and do it fast, Before we're seen by any neighbour's eye." This Absalom did wipe his mouth all dry; Dark was the night as pitch, aye dark as coal, And through the window she put out her hole. And Absalom no better felt nor worse, But with his mouth he kissed her naked arse Right greedily, before he knew of this. Aback he leapt it seemed somehow amiss, For well he knew a woman has no beard; He'd felt a thing all rough and longish haired, And said, "Oh fie, alas! What did I do?" "Teehee!" she laughed, and clapped the, window to; And Absalom went forth a sorry pace. "A beard! A beard!" cried clever Nicholas, "Now by God's corpus, this goes fair and well!" This hapless Absalom, he heard that yell, And on his lip, for anger, he did bite; And to himself he said, "I will requite!" Who vigorously rubbed and scrubbed his lips With dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, with chips, But Absalom, and often cried "Alas! My soul I give now unto Sathanas, For rather far than own this town," said he, "For this despite, it's well revenged I'd be. Alas," said he, "from her I never blenched!" His hot love was grown cold, aye and all quenched; For, from the moment that he'd kissed her arse, For paramours he didn't care a curse, For he was healed of all his malady; Indeed all paramours he did defy, And wept as does a child that has been beat.

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