T ALE

S.

An Anfwer to the Sompner's Prologue of Chaucer.

T

In imitation of Chaucer's style.

HE Sompner leudly hath his Prologue told,
And faine on the Freers his tale japing

and bold;

How that in Hell they fearchen near

and wide,

And ne one Freer in all thilke place espyde,
But ho! the devil turn'd his erse about,

And twenty thousand Freers wend in and out.

By

By which in feoffrys rhyming it appears,

The devil's belly is the hive of Freers.

Now liftneth lordings! forthwith ye shall hear, What happened at a houfe in Lancashire.

A mifere that had londs and tenement,

Who raketh from his vaillaines taxes and rent,
Owned a house which emptye long y-stood,
Full deeply fited in a derkning wood,
Murmring a fhallow brook runneth along,
Mong the round ftones it maken doleful fong.

Now there spreaden a rumour that everich night
The rooms ihaunted been by many a fprite,
The miller avoucheth, and all thereabout,
That they full oft' hearen the hellish rout;
Some faine they hear the jingling of chains,
And fome hath yheard the pfautries ftraines,
At midnight fome the headless horse imeet,
And fome efpien a corfe in a white fheet,
And oother things, faye, elfin and elfe,
And shapes that fear createn to it felfe.

Now it fo hapt, there was not ferre away,

Of gray Freers a fair and rich Abbaye,

Where

Where liven a Freer ycleped Pere Thomas,

Who daren alone in derke through church-yerds pafs.

This Freer would lye in thilke house all night,
In hope he might espyen a dreadful fprite.
He taketh candle, beades, and holy watere,

- And legends eke of Saintes, and bookes of prayere.
He entreth the room, and looketh round about,
And hafpen the door to hafpen the goblin out.
The candle hath he put close by the bed,
And in low tone his ave marye faid.
With water now besprinkled hath the floore,
And maken cross on key hole of the doore.
Ne was there not a mouse-hole in thilke place,
But he y-croffed hath by God his
grace;

He croffed hath this, and eke he croffed that,
With Benedicite and God knows what.

Now he goeth to bed and lieth adown,

When the clock had just stricken the twelfth foun.
Bethinketh hem now what the caufe had ibeen,
Why many sprites by mortals have been seen.
Hem remembreth how Dan Plutarch hath y fed
That Cafar's fprite came to Brute his bed;

Of

Of chains that frighten erft Artemidore

The tales of Pline, Valere, and many more.
Hem thinketh that fome murdere here been done,
And he mought fee fome bloodye ghost anone,
Or that fome orphlines writings here be stor❜d,
Or pot of gold laine deep beneath a board :
Or thinketh hem, if he mought fee no sprite,
The Abbay mought buy this houfe cheape outright.

As hem thus thinketh, anone asleep he lies,
Up ftarten Sathanas with faucer eyes.

He turneth the Freer upon his face downright,
Difplaying his nether cheeks ful broad and white.
Then quoth Dan Sathanas as he thwack'd him fore,
Thou didft forget to guard thy postern door.

There is an hole which hath not croffed been :
Farewel, from whence I came, I creepen in.

Now plain it is ytellen in my verse,

If Devils in hell bear Freers in their erfe,

On earth the Devil in Freers doth y-dwell;

Were their no Freers, the Devil mought keep in Hell.

WORK