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THE PROLOGUE.

This worthy limitour, this noble Frere,
He made always a manner louring cheer                      countenance
Upon the Sompnour; but for honesty                            courtesy
No villain word as yet to him spake he:
But at the last he said unto the Wife:
"Dame," quoth he, "God give you right good life,
Ye have here touched, all so may I the,                         *thrive
In school matter a greate difficulty.
Ye have said muche thing right well, I say;
But, Dame, here as we ride by the way,
Us needeth not but for to speak of game,
And leave authorities, in Godde's name,
To preaching, and to school eke of clergy.
But if it like unto this company,
I will you of a Sompnour tell a game;
Pardie, ye may well knowe by the name,
That of a Sompnour may no good be said;
I pray that none of you be *evil paid;
                   dissatisfied
A Sompnour is a runner up and down
With mandements* for fornicatioun,                 mandates, summonses
And is y-beat at every towne's end."
Then spake our Host; "Ah, sir, ye should be hend         *civil, gentle
And courteous, as a man of your estate;
In company we will have no debate:
Tell us your tale, and let the Sompnour be."
"Nay," quoth the Sompnour, "let him say by me
What so him list; when it comes to my lot,
By God, I shall him quiten
every groat!                    pay him off
I shall him telle what a great honour
It is to be a flattering limitour
And his office I shall him tell y-wis".
Our Host answered, "Peace, no more of this."
And afterward he said unto the frere,
"Tell forth your tale, mine owen master dear."

Notes to the Prologue to the Friar's tale

1. On the Tale of the Friar, and that of the Sompnour which
follows, Tyrwhitt has remarked that they "are well engrafted
upon that of the Wife of Bath. The ill-humour which shows
itself between these two characters is quite natural, as no two
professions at that time were at more constant variance.  The
regular clergy, and particularly the mendicant friars, affected a
total exemption from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction,  except that
of the Pope, which made them exceedingly obnoxious to the
bishops and of course to all the inferior officers of the national
hierarchy." Both tales, whatever their origin, are bitter satires
on the greed and worldliness of the Romish clergy.


THE TALE.

Whilom
there was dwelling in my country                 once on a time
An archdeacon, a man of high degree,
That boldely did execution,
In punishing of fornication,
Of witchecraft, and eke of bawdery,
Of defamation, and adultery,
Of churche-reeves,
and of testaments,                    churchwardens
Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments,
And eke of many another manner
crime,                          sort of
Which needeth not rehearsen at this time,
Of usury, and simony also;
But, certes, lechours did he greatest woe;
They shoulde singen, if that they were hent;
                    caught
And smale tithers were foul y-shent,
         troubled, put to shame
If any person would on them complain;
There might astert them no pecunial pain.
For smalle tithes, and small offering,
He made the people piteously to sing;
For ere the bishop caught them with his crook,
They weren in the archedeacon's book;
Then had he, through his jurisdiction,
Power to do on them correction.

He had a Sompnour ready to his hand,
A slier boy was none in Engleland;
For subtlely he had his espiaille,
                           espionage
That taught him well where it might aught avail.
He coulde spare of lechours one or two,
To teache him to four and twenty mo'.
For, -- though this Sompnour wood
be as a hare, --        furious, mad
To tell his harlotry I will not spare,
For we be out of their correction,
They have of us no jurisdiction,
Ne never shall have, term of all their lives.

"Peter; so be the women of the stives,"
                          stews
Quoth this Sompnour, "y-put out of our cure."
                     care

"Peace, with mischance and with misaventure,"
Our Hoste said, "and let him tell his tale.
Now telle forth, and let the Sompnour gale,
              whistle; bawl
Nor spare not, mine owen master dear."

This false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the Frere),
Had always bawdes ready to his hand,
As any hawk to lure in Engleland,
That told him all the secrets that they knew, --
For their acquaintance was not come of new;
They were his approvers
privily.                             informers
He took himself at great profit thereby:
His master knew not always what he wan.
                            won
Withoute mandement, a lewed
man                               ignorant
He could summon, on pain of Christe's curse,
And they were inly glad to fill his purse,
And make him greate feastes at the nale.
                      alehouse
And right as Judas hadde purses smale,
                           small
And was a thief, right such a thief was he,
His master had but half *his duety.
                what was owing him
He was (if I shall give him his laud)
A thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd.
And he had wenches at his retinue,
That whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh,
Or Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were
That lay by them, they told it in his ear.
Thus were the ***** and he of one assent;
And he would fetch a feigned mandement,
And to the chapter summon them both two,
And pill* the man, and let the wenche go.                plunder, pluck
Then would he say, "Friend, I shall for thy sake
Do strike thee out of oure letters blake;
                        black
Thee thar
no more as in this case travail;                        need
I am thy friend where I may thee avail."
Certain he knew of bribers many mo'
Than possible is to tell in yeare's two:
For in this world is no dog for the bow,
That can a hurt deer from a whole know,
Bet
than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour,                      better
Or an adult'rer, or a paramour:
And, for that was the fruit of all his rent,
Therefore on it he set all his intent.

And so befell, that once upon a day.
This Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey,
Rode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe,
Feigning a cause, for he would have a bribe.
And happen'd that he saw before him ride
A gay yeoman under a forest side:
A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen,
He had upon a courtepy
of green,                         short doublet
A hat upon his head with fringes blake.
                          black
"Sir," quoth this Sompnour, "hail, and well o'ertake."
"Welcome," quoth he, "and every good fellaw;
Whither ridest thou under this green shaw?"
                       shade
Saide this yeoman; "wilt thou far to-day?"
This Sompnour answer'd him, and saide, "Nay.
Here faste by," quoth he, "is mine intent
To ride, for to raisen up a rent,
That longeth to my lorde's duety."
"Ah! art thou then a bailiff?" "Yea," quoth he.
He durste not for very filth and shame
Say that he was a Sompnour, for the name.
"De par dieux,"  quoth this yeoman, "leve* brother,             dear
Thou art a bailiff, and I am another.
I am unknowen, as in this country.
Of thine acquaintance I will praye thee,
And eke of brotherhood, if that thee list.
                      please
I have gold and silver lying in my chest;
If that thee hap to come into our shire,
All shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire."
"Grand mercy,"
quoth this Sompnour, "by my faith."        great thanks
Each in the other's hand his trothe lay'th,
For to be sworne brethren till they dey.
                        die
In dalliance they ride forth and play.

This Sompnour, which that was as full of jangles,
           chattering
As full of venom be those wariangles,
               * butcher-birds
And ev'r inquiring upon every thing,
"Brother," quoth he, "where is now your dwelling,
Another day if that I should you seech?"                   *seek, visit
This yeoman him answered in soft speech;
Brother," quoth he, "far in the North country,
Where as I hope some time I shall thee see
Ere we depart I shall thee so well wiss,
                        inform
That of mine house shalt thou never miss."
Now, brother," quoth this Sompnour, "I you pray,
Teach me, while that we ride by the way,
(Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,)
Some subtilty, and tell me faithfully
For mine office how that I most may win.
And *spare not
for conscience or for sin,             conceal nothing
But, as my brother, tell me how do ye."
Now by my trothe, brother mine," said he,
As I shall tell to thee a faithful tale:
My wages be full strait and eke full smale;
My lord is hard to me and dangerous,                         *niggardly
And mine office is full laborious;
And therefore by extortion I live,
Forsooth I take all that men will me give.
Algate
by sleighte, or by violence,                            whether
From year to year I win all my dispence;
I can no better tell thee faithfully."
Now certes," quoth this Sompnour,  "so fare
I;                      do
I spare not to take, God it wot,
But if* it be too heavy or too hot.                            unless
What I may get in counsel privily,
No manner conscience of that have I.
N'ere* mine extortion, I might not live,                were it not for
For of such japes
will I not be shrive.           tricks *confessed
Stomach nor conscience know I none;
I shrew* these shrifte-fathers
every one.          curse *confessors
Well be we met, by God and by St Jame.
But, leve brother, tell me then thy name,"
Quoth this Sompnour.  Right in this meane while
This yeoman gan a little for to smile.

"Brother," quoth he, "wilt thou that I thee tell?
I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell,
And here I ride about my purchasing,
To know where men will give me any thing.
My purchase is th' effect of all my rent        what I can gain is my
Look how thou ridest for the same intent                   sole revenue

To winne good, thou reckest never how,
Right so fare I, for ride will I now
Into the worlde's ende for a prey."

"Ah," quoth this Sompnour, "benedicite! what say y'?
I weened ye were a yeoman truly.                                thought
Ye have a manne's shape as well as I
Have ye then a figure determinate
In helle, where ye be in your estate?"
                         at home
"Nay, certainly," quoth he, there have we none,
But when us liketh we can take us one,
Or elles make you seem
that we be shape                        believe
Sometime like a man, or like an ape;
Or like an angel can I ride or go;
It is no wondrous thing though it be so,
A lousy juggler can deceive thee.
And pardie, yet can I more craft
than he."              skill, cunning
"Why," quoth the Sompnour, "ride ye then or gon
In sundry shapes and not always in one?"
"For we," quoth he, "will us in such form make.
As most is able our prey for to take."
"What maketh you to have all this labour?"
"Full many a cause, leve Sir Sompnour,"
Saide this fiend. "But all thing hath a time;
The day is short and it is passed prime,
And yet have I won nothing in this day;
I will intend
to winning, if I may,               &nbs
We need to speak more in
terms of endearment.

More honeys, darlings
sweeties and dears
don't appear to be important
but they are.

Love can be so subtlely
slipped into conversation
by simply placing a
term of endearment
after the phrase
you wish to say.

I'm tired tonight, dear.
versus
I'm tired tonight.

*There is no comparison!
Shane Knubley Dec 2013
Her look is holding
Her dreary and depressed eyes digging into me, perplexing
The scarlet red rose petals that ring around her pupils entrance me
She stands tall, strong and contained
Strong like the world trade before it was struck down against it's will
She's only awaiting her time
She puts on a good act

Nobody can tell that
Behind her strength and pseudo-bliss hides a lifetime of sadness and self-hatred
The perpetual clock dictating her existence ticks endlessly until she too falls to the ground
Inevitable.
Masks her bottomless pool of insecurities with a smile
Compensating for them with a false ego the size of the sun
Acts like she is better than everyone
But she knows that she's not
Her mind set on keeping all the feelings hidden

She rejects help
Neglects the ones who care
Thinks she can do it all by herself
But we know that she can't

Her wrists full of scars and regret
Her eyes like an endlessly flowing water fountain
Caught in a recurring state of despair
Despite all the people who love and who care

"Everyday is a battle", I tell her, hoping that she will open to me
"And it's mine to fight", she replies aggresively
I try to share with her my days
I subtlely urge her to do the same
I want to help her heart to mend
So all her hate and pain can end.
Francie Lynch Jan 2015
The vaporous air clings
To my winter window.
I draw a childish happy face
With my *******,
And press my nose
Where Happy's should be;
Thinking to transfer a smile,
Subtlely,
As Veronica.
Veronica's veil supposedly has the image of Christ's face on it.
My strength has gone,
My soul has perished,
I lost my home,
The Light was vanquished.
Dystrophic sounds,
The brutal cacophony
Of silence and longing,
It's a bludgeoned symphany.
-
Caressing the cheek,
Fingers through her hair,
Smiling subtlely,
Then I awake without air.
The wind eats at each bone
The rain chills them still,
And what good is this home
Without her will?
The imagination runs wild
With dreams of perfection,
The qualities of flaws,
The insurrection.
Grieving turmoil and, alas, it has,
Been determined to happen as fast,
It creeps along its vertices,
Stoking fire of improbability,
Fending for myself, alone,
It seems to me I must here drone,
Wasting away every single chance,
To break free of a pallid trance,
I've always escaped my heart of thoughts,
I've always ended what all have brought,
I've always ended what songs she sings,
I've always brought about suffering,
I've always snuffed my last candle-light
I've always gripped the ledge too tight,
I've always choked the life from myself,
I've always drowned my sorrows in Hell,
I've always heard of my downfall,
I've always scorned the love in all,
I've always been plagued with bitter hate,
Although,
I'll always hate love, and love it still,
I'll always wish for someone until...
I'll always lust for something great
I'll always rush for my own fate,
I'll always need the hand to hold,
Whatever in my life may happen in the cold.
Ann M Johnson Oct 2016
Change can fall upon us gradually like leafs changing colors in the fall.
Other times it hits virtually out of nowhere and unexpectantly like a hurricane.
Sometimes it tosses us to and fro causing us to scramble to get a firmer foothold.
Other times change can appear more subtlely like a warm gentle breeze such as gradually falling in love.
Change can both bring about both fear or anticipation dependent upon  our perception of the outcome.
The winds of change will blow that is something over which we have no control it is part of life.
However, change can either strengthen us or weaken us the choice is up to us regarding our attitude and reaction to changes in our lives.
Emeka Mokeme Apr 2018
There up in the galaxy
are symbols wrought.
Symbols are the secrets
of life encoded in nature
which man inhabits
and must decode to survive.
In deciphering symbols of life,
man needs wisdom.
Hidden within the
framework of our universe
are sacred symbols telling us
about the infinite powers of creation.
Deep beneath the ocean,
even down the darkest
depths of the earth,
symbols speak.
Within the forest,
Signature symbols of
the plants are made manifest.
Every single thing about
our lives are coded symbols
with profound hidden message.
Below the earth are hidden symbols
of the precious gem stones subtlely emanating their secrets to help mankind.
Within the tumultuous ebbs of the tides the surf searches the sand for symbols.
Our lives are symbols of the almighty scattered all over the cosmos.
Symbols are everywhere if we can but only look for it.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme.All Rights Reserved.
#symbols #galaxy #creation
Ann M Johnson Oct 2016
What I fear most are not the things that go bump in the night.
The things that frighten me are often times things that at first you can not see.
These things that first start with someone elses thoughts can too often be turned into negative actions. What may start as a passitionate thought, or cause can too quickly turn into a distructive action. This is why I fear insensitivity, crude jokes, apathy.
Other things I fear are people that talk without thinking about what they are saying first, or how others might interpet what they are saying.
I fear selfishness which may lead to uncaring actions.
I fear crude jokes that do not respect ones fellow man or women, because it could subtlely desensitize ones perspection of those around them. They may get defensive and say it is just a joke.
The constant violent images on the news and on television, may further desensitize others to think that volence is normal or okay, or worse still that it is a normal part of life. It don't have to be perseived as normal we can chose to limit our own exposesure to violence on television. We can let others know that we don't condone violence, whether it is on television, or in reality, or in our own community.
I fear all these things that at first hide inside the deepest parts of someones mind, long before it is publically seen. This realization of this hidden darknes,makes me cry, or scream, if I thought about it all before going to bed. I would cover my head and sleep with the lights on, and every noice would make me jumpy.
This is why I fear the things that I can not see the most.
Petals flower born cannot lead you towards myself.. Cocoa boxes and Stuffed childhood Were Lies by Society....
I feel you like entire eclipse grasps the sun .... I would still allow your light to shine through me.....
Gravity is the only paradox of understanding that keeps me grounded when we contend our acceptance...
Id lie and take a million years for the only sure hope in my world full of broken promises.....
And you will never know how i kiss your forehead when you sleep because i hate me weak....
Or when I break at times when i subtlely call my anxiety into question and you answer....
Like every time I stare at myself I tell myself I dont deserve you...
Soo when you finally hold me I fell off my mountain of pride to comfort my inner demons ....
And sometimes I lose myself in you and I cannot shelter the blow to my false comfort anymore...
So chocolate and pretty sonnets hallmark your memories of my love?
Because my heart greatly grew once you only stared into my eyes...
Men dont say that your truley there weakness but Id say you became my strength...
Valentine id talk and take your hand because With every moment your hands in mine....
I realize you were the first love that made me shine....
Love you Babe....
Gaffer Sep 2015
It was never about the goodwill, the charm
Not remotely
Just the lies
But not any old lies
No, lies that made a difference
Dropped into conversation, subtlely
Then became consequences
Affecting lives
Watching as the poison took effect
Gratifying from a distance
Better than a shot to the head
Moving on to the next one
Words at the end of the phone
More words, just a hint
Heresay
Death on a dark night
Senseless, yet so brutal
No affiliations, why
Small wars breakout
New faces, click
Names to faces
Phone call in the night
Chaos ensues
Car stops as shadowy figure enters from the dark
Drives off
Dossier complete.
Heather Mirassou Oct 2017
Her skin pink and satin

Trapped **** in a secret vault

I lavish her sweetly

She moans and begins to quiver

Her dazzling sapphire eyes

Swoon over me

I whimper

A ****** begins to charm

Like a candle made of potion

A rare ruby shinning

Dances in the mirror

Subtlely hypnotizing

She tastes like sugar and honeycomb

Her taught fingers

Caressing languorously

Sunset like a fire

Engulfs me

The evening torrents

An aphrodisiac

We tremble into oblivion

In exotic bliss

As my charmed jewel

Lies with me
Gaffer Mar 2016
It was never about the goodwill, the charm
Not remotely
Just the lies
But not any old lies
No, lies that made a difference
Dropped into conversation, subtlely
Then became consequences
Affecting lives
Watching as the poison took effect
Gratifying from a distance
Better than a shot to the head
Moving on to the next one
Words at the end of the phone
More words, just a hint
Heresay
Death on a dark night
Senseless, yet so brutal
No affiliations, why
Small wars breakout
New faces, click
Names to faces
Phone call in the night
Chaos ensues
Car stops as shadowy figure enters from the dark
Drives off
Dossier complete.
You
gradually
ghosted
gracefully
out
as
subtlely
as
you
spirited
in.
When i feel the wind blow across the lonely empty plain,
A chilling tickle tingle on my cheeks ,
Across the great plain a vast wasteland ,
Yet sometimes it rains ,
And when it does the fields turn green ,
There is a subtlely  pleasant smell ,
It makes me think of gentle nights alone apon the plain,
In the grass i lay the night for mornings sweet revival ,
And in that time i breathe no more back to natures green embrace,
And with the wind i blow now through your hair and off your cheek.
I'm looking for salvation
by the wounded hours of night

I'm thinking of a giant to the ****** of my plight

My pen lays as idle as the silence of the slain
As I've aged I wonder if I will ever write again

The thoughts go tango to dance that subtlely divides

The words are rudely gathered then told they've been denied

Someone dared to ask me
if I lived in
a graveyard
of shattered dreams

After a moment of silence all I could say was , "Yes ,  so it is as well it seems."

The paper island exists far out on an inky sea

The words have stowed away on boat and sailed far away from me

— The End —