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Çàðàç íà ñàéò³ - 2
Ïîøóê

Ïåðåâ³ðêà ðîçì³ðó




Geoffrey Chaucer

Ïðî÷èòàíèé : 181


Òâîð÷³ñòü | Á³îãðàô³ÿ | Êðèòèêà

5. THE COOK'S TALE

Prologue
   The  Reeve's  tale  pleased  the  London  Cook  as  much                  4325
As  a  back-scratching,  his  delight  was  such.                                                      
"Ha!  ha!"  said  he,  "this  miller,  by  Christ's  passion,              
Got  his  comeuppance  in  the  sharpest  fashion
For  all  that  talk  of  lodging  space  with  clerks.
As  Solomon  well  stated  in  his  works,                                              4330
'Into  your  house  not  every  man  invite.'
It's  perilous  to  let  one  lodge  at  night,
And  well  advised  should  every  fellow  be
On  whom  he  brings  to  share  his  privacy.
I  pray  to  God  to  give  me  woe  and  care                                            4335
If  ever,  since  they  named  me  Hodge  of  Ware,
Have  I  heard  of  a  miller  better  duped!
To  mean  tricks  in  the  dark  they  really  stooped.
But  God  forbid  that  here's  where  we  conclude;
And  so,  if  here  you'll  grant  that  I  include                                4340
A  tale,  then  I,  who  am  a  humble  man,
Will  tell  to  you  the  best  way  that  I  can
A  funny  thing  that  happened  in  our  city."
   Our  Host  said,  "Granted,  Roger,  but  be  witty
In  what  you  tell,  see  that  it's  of  some  use;                              4345
From  many  a  pastry  you  have  drained  the  juice,
And  you  have  peddled  many  a  Jack  of  Dover
When  twice  already  you  had  warmed  it  over.
There's  many  a  pilgrim  wishes  you  Christ's  curse;
Your  parsley  has  them  feeling  all  the  worse                                4350
(They  ate  it  with  your  stubble-nourished  goose),
For  in  your  shop  so  many  flies  are  loose.
Now  tell  on,  gentle  Roger,  by  your  name.
And  don't  get  mad,  I  pray,  about  a  game;
A  man  may  speak  the  truth  in  fun  or  play."                                  4355          
   "You  speak  the  truth,"  said  Roger,  "I  must  say.  
But  'true  jest,  bad  jest'--Flemings  say  it  daily;
And  therefore  by  your  faith  now,  Harry  Bailey,
Do  not  get  mad  before  we've  parted,  sir,
Although  my  tale  be  of  a  hosteler.                                                  4360
I  will  not  tell  it  yet,  but  when  I  do
(Before  we  part)  you'll  have  what's  owed  to  you."
And  so  with  that  he  laughed  with  merry  cheer
And  told  his  tale,  as  you're  about  to  hear.

The  Cook's  Tale
   Once  an  apprentice  dwelt  within  our  town,                                4365
Learning  the  victuals  trade.  He  was  as  brown
As  any  berry.  Blithely  he'd  cavort
Like  a  finch  in  the  wood.  Well-built  and  short,
With  locks  coal  black  and  very  neatly  kept,
At  dancing  he  so  well,  so  blithely  leapt,                                    4370
That  he  was  known  as  Perkin  Reveler.
He  was  as  full  of  love,  this  victualer,
As  is  the  beehive  full  of  honey  sweet,
And  lucky  were  the  wenches  he  would  meet.
At  every  wedding  he  would  sing  and  hop;                                        4375
He  loved  the  tavern  better  than  the  shop.
When  there  was  a  procession  in  Cheapside,
Out  of  the  shop  immediately  he  hied,
And  till  he'd  seen  it  all,  and  took  a  turn
At  dancing,  he  would  not  again  return;                                          4380
And  there  would  gather  many  of  his  sort
To  dance  and  sing  and  otherwise  disport;
And  they  would  make  appointments  too  to  meet
And  play  at  dice  at  such-and-such  a  street,
For  there  was  no  apprentice  in  the  town                                        4385
Who  better  rattled  dice  and  threw  them  down
Than  Perkin  Reveler.  And  he  was  free
In  what  he  spent--his  master  easily
Had  learnt  this  in  the  shop,  for  that  is  where
He  often  found  his  box  completely  bare.                                        4390
For  surely  when  a  prentice  takes  to  vice
Like  parties,  paramours,  and  games  of  dice,
His  master  in  the  shop  shall  be  the  one
Who  pays  though  having  no  part  in  the  fun.
Although  a  prentice  play  guitar  or  fiddle,                                  4395
Theft  and  riotous  living  differ  little;
Truth  and  revel,  in  one  of  low  degree,
Will  always  be  at  odds,  as  men  may  see.
   Now  with  his  master  this  blithe  lad  remained
Until  in  victuals  nearly  fully  trained,                                        4400
Though  often  chided--more  than  once  he  made
The  trip  to  Newgate  while  musicians  played.
Then  finally  one  day  his  master  thought,
When  Perkin  his  indenture  paper  sought,
About  an  old  proverb,  the  words  that  say:                                    4405
"A  rotten  apple's  better  thrown  away
Before  it  spoils  the  barrel."  That  is  true
When  dealing  with  a  bad  apprentice  too;
Less  harm  is  done  to  let  him  go  apace
Before  he  ruins  all  others  in  the  place.                                      4410
And  so  his  master  gave  him  his  acquittance,
And  bade  him  go  with  sorry  luck:  "Good  riddance!"
And  so  this  jolly  prentice  left.  Let  him
Now  revel  all  the  night  if  that's  his  whim.
And  as  there  is  no  thief  without  ally                                            4415
To  help  embezzle,  squander,  or  come  by
All  he  can  steal  or  borrow  in  some  way,
He  sent  his  bed  and  clothes  without  delay
To  a  compeer,  a  chap  of  his  own  sort
Who  loved  to  dice,  to  revel  and  disport,                                      4420
And  had  a  wife  who  kept,  for  public  view,
A  shop,  but  for  her  livelihood  would  screw.

(Unfinished  by  Chaucer)


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