The Canterbury Tales of Geoffrey Chaucer/Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale

The Canon’s Yeoman’s Prologue
by Geoffrey Chaucer

The Canon's Yeoman's Tale

Here beginneth the Canon's Yeoman his Tale.

SEVEN years have I dwelt with this canon and never the better am I for his science. Thereby have I lost all that I had and, God wot, so have many more than I. Where I was wont to be right gay of clothing and of other fine gear, now I may wear a stocking on mine head; and where my colour was both fresh and ruddy, now is it wan and leaden of hue. Whosoever practiseth this art shall have sorrow therefor. Mine eyes are still bleared of my toil. Lo, what advantage it is to multiply! That slippery science hath made me so bare that I have naught left wheresoever I go. And thereby am I so deep in debt for gold that I have borrowed, that truly while I live I shall never repay it. Let every man forevermore beware by me! Whatsoever man turneth him thereto, I hold his thrift shall be at an end if he continue. So help me God, he shall gain naught thereby, but empty his purse and make thin his wits; and when, by his madness and folly, he hath staked and lost his own goods, then thereto he exciteth other folk to lose their goods even as he himself hath done. For it is joy and content unto rogues to have their fellows in pain and distress. Thus once was I taught of a clerk; but of that no matter; I will speak of our labours.

When we be where we shall practise our elvish craft, we seem wondrous wise, our terms be so clerkly and strange. I blow the fire till mine heart fainteth. Why should I tell all the proportions of the things which we work upon, as on five or six ounces of silver, or perchance some other quantity, and busy me to tell you the names of iron scales, of orpiments and burnt bones, that be ground full fine into powder? And how all is placed in an earthen pot, and salt put in, and also, before these powders that I speak of, paper and many other things, and well covered with a plate of glass? And how the pot and glasses are sealed with clay, that naught of the air may pass out? And of the easy and eke the brisk fire which was made, and of the trouble and the woe that we had in sublimating our substances, and in the amalgaming and the calcining of quicksilver, called crude mercury. For all our sleights, we cannot attain unto our end. Our orpiment and our sublimed mercury, our litharge eke ground on a porphyry slab—to use of these a certain number of ounces of each helpeth us naught; our labour is in vain. Nor may the vapourizing of our spirits, nor eke the substances that remain thereafter, avail us aught in our working; for lost is all our labour and toil, and lost also, in twenty devil ways, is all the money which we stake upon it.

There be eke full many other things that pertain unto our craft ; though I cannot rehearse them in their order, because I am a skilless wight, yet will I tell them as I call them to mind, though I cannot set each in its class : as Armenian clay, borax, verdigris, sundry vessels made of glass and earth, our pots, our descensories, vials, sublimating vessels, crucibles, gourds, alembics and other such vessels, dear enough at a leek's worth. It needeth not to rehearse every one: reddening waters, bull's gall, arsenic, sal ammoniac, and brimstone; and eke many an herb could I tell, as agrimony, valerian, lunary, and other such if I list to take the time. Our lamps are burning both day and night to bring about our end, if may be.

We have eke our furnaces for calcination and for the albification of water, our unslaked lime, chalk, white of egg, diverse powders, dung, ashes, clay, waxed bags, vitriol, saltpeter, and divers sorts of fire made of wood and charcoal, salt of tartar, alkali, prepared salt, calcined and coagulated substances, clay made with horse-hair or man's-hair, oil of tartar, alum, glass, yeast, herbs, crude tartar, red orpiment, our substances for absorbing and drinking-in others; our citronizing of silver; our cementing and fermentation; our moulds, assaying-vessels and many things more.

I will tell you, as was also taught me, the four spirits and the seven bodies in their order, as oft I have heard my lord name them. The first spirit is called quicksilver, the second orpiment, the third sal ammoniac and the fourth brimstone. The seven bodies, lo! here are they eke: Sol is gold, Luna we call silver, Mars iron, Mercury we name quicksilver, Saturn lead, Jupiter tin and Venus copper, by the souls of my forefathers!

Whosoever will practise this cursed craft shall alway be poor; for all the goods he spendeth thereon he shall lose, I have no doubt. Whoso that list to display his folly, let him come forth and learn multiplying. And every man that hath aught in his purse, let him appear and wax a philosopher. Perchance because that craft is so light to learn? Nay, nay, God wot, be he friar or monk, priest or canon, or any other man, though he sit at his book day and night learning this foolish elvish lore, all is in vain and, pardee, much worse! To teach this subtlety to an ignorant man, fy! speak not thereof; it may not be. Knoweth he book-lore, or knoweth he none, in the end he shall find it all the same. For, by my salvation, both the two end alike well in multiplying, when they have done all they may; that is to say, they fail both the two.

Yet I forgot to make rehearsal of corrosive waters, of metal filings, of mollification of bodies, and eke of their induration; oils, ablutions and fusible metal; to tell all would outdo any great volume in the world; wherefore, as seemeth best, I will stint now of all these names ; for I trow I have told you enough to raise a fiend, look he never so fierce.

Ah, nay! let be! we seek eagerly each and all for the philosopher's stone, called Elixir; for if we had him then were we secure enough; but I make mine avow unto God in heaven, for all our craft and sleight, when we have done our all, he will not come to us. He hath made us spend mickle goods, for sorrow of which we wax almost mad, but that hope creepeth into our hearts, making us suppose ever, though we be in sore trouble, that we shall be relieved by him afterward. Such supposing and hope are sharp and cruel; I warn you well, it is ever to seek, and that future tense hath made men, by trusting thereto, part from all that ever they had; yet of that craft they cannot wax weary, for it is a bitter sweetness unto them, so it seemeth; for had they naught but a sheet to wrap them in at night and a clout to walk in by day, yet would they sell them and spend all on this art; they cannot stint till nothing be left. And evermore, wheresoever they go, men may know them by the smell of brimstone. They stink for all the world like a goat. Their savour is so hot and rammish that, though a man be a mile from them, the savour shall infect him, trust me. Lo! thus, by smell and threadbare garb, men may know these folk, if they list. And if a man will privily ask them why they be clothed so unthriftily, right anon they will whisper in his ear and say, that if they were espied, men would slay them because of their science. Lo! thus doth this folk betray the innocent!

Pass over this; I turn to my tale. Ere the pot be set on the fire with a certain quantity of metals, my lord, and no man save him, tempereth them—now he is gone, I dare speak boldly—for, as men say, he knoweth his craft well; yet, though I wot well he hath such a reputation, full oft he runneth into a fault. And wit ye how? full oft it so happeth that the pot breaketh in pieces, and farewell! all is gone! These metals be of so great a violence that our walls may not resist them unless they be wrought of lime and stone. They pierce through the walls and some of them sink into the earth (thus at times have we lost many a pound) , some are scattered all about the floor and some leap into the roof. I trow there is no doubt, though the fiend showeth him not in our sight, that he be with us, the very rogue himself! for in hell, where he is lord and master, there is not more woe nor rancour nor ire. When our pot is broke, as I have said, every man chideth and holdeth him ill used. One saith, it was along of the way the fire was made; another saith nay, it was the blowing (then was I afeard, for that was mine office); "Straw!" quoth the third, "ye be stupid and foolish; it was not tempered as it ought to have been." "Nay, stint!" quoth the fourth, "and hearken to me; our fire was not made of beechwood, that is the cause and no other I swear." I cannot tell what it was along of, but I wot well great strife was amongst us.

"What! there is no more to do," quoth my lord, "I will beware hereafter of these perils; I am right sure that the pot was cracked. Be that as it may, be not ye confounded; let the floor be swept at once, as usual ; pluck up your hearts and be glad and blithe."

The muck was swept on an heap, and a canvas was cast on the floor and all this muck thrown into a sieve and sifted and picked over and over.

"Pardee!" quoth one, "there is somewhat of our metal here yet, though we have not all. Though this thing have mischanced now, another time it may turn out well enough; we must needs put our goods in jeopardy. A merchant, par dee! trust me well, may not abide aye in his prosperity; sometimes his goods be drowned in the ocean, and sometimes cometh it safe to land."

"Peace," quoth my lord, "the next time I will take care that our experiment shall come out quite in another fashion; and unless I do, let me have the blame, sirs; there was some defect in something, I know well."

Another said that the fire was over-hot ; but, be it hot or cold, I dare assert that evermore we conclude amiss. We fail of what we desire, and in our madness we rave evermore. And when we be all together, every man seemeth a Solomon; but, as I have heard tell, "all thing which that shineth as the gold is not gold," nor is every apple good that is fair to the eye, howsoever men prate. Right so, lo! fareth it amongst us; he that seemeth the wisest, by Jesu! is most a fool, when it cometh to the proof; and he is a thief, that seemeth truest. That ye shall know, ere I depart from you, what time I have made an end of my tale.

Explicit prima pars.
Et sequitur pars secunda.

There is a canon of religion amongst us, who would infect a whole town, though it were as great as Nineve, Rome, Alexandria, Troy and three more such. No man, I ween, though he might live a thousand years, could write down his tricks and his infinite falseness. There is not his peer for falsehood in all this world; for he would so wind him in his strange terms, and speak his words in so sly a fashion, when he would commune with any wight, that, unless he were a fiend like himself, he would make him straightway to dote. Many a man ere this hath he beguiled, and yet shall if he live ; and yet men ride and walk many a mile to seek him and have his acquaintance, knowing naught of his false behaviour; and if ye list to hear me, I will tell it all here in your presence.

But ye worshipful religious canons, deem not that I slander your house, although my tale be of a canon. Some rogue, pardee, is in every order, and God forbid that a whole company should rue the folly of one man. To slander you is no wise my purpose, but to correct what is amiss. This tale was told not only for you, but eke for others beside. Ye wot well how, among Christ's twelve apostles, there was no traitor but Judas ; then why should all the remnant have censure that were guiltless? For you I say the same; save only this, if ye will hearken my warning: if any Judas be in your convent, remove him betimes, if ye dread at all shame or loss. And be not displeased, I pray you, but hearken what I shall say of this canon.

There was in London a priest, an annualer, that had dwelt there many a year, and was so pleasant and attentive unto the dame, where he was at board, that she would suffer him to pay nothing for food nor clothing, though he lived never so gaily; and spending-silver eke had he enough. Thereof no matter; I will proceed now and tell forth my tale of the canon, that brought confusion upon this priest.

This false canon came on a day unto this priest's chamber, beseeching him to lend him a certain sum of gold, and he would pay it to him again. "Lend me a mark but three days," quoth he, "and I will pay thee on the day. And if so be thou find me false, another day have me hanged by the neck!"

This priest gave him a mark right soon, and this canon thanked him many times, and took his leave and went forth his way, and on the third day brought his money and gave his gold again to the priest, whereof this priest was wondrous glad.

"Certes," quoth he, "it troubleth me not at all to lend a man a noble, or two, or whatsoever sum be in my possession, when he is so true of principle—that he will in no wise break his word ; to such a man I can never say nay."

"What! should I be untrue?" quoth this canon. "Nay, that were a new thing to befall. Truth is a thing that I will hold evermore unto that day in which I shall creep into my grave; God forbid else! Believe this as sure as your creed. I thank God, and happy am I to say it, that there was never man yet ill pleased for gold or silver that he lent me, nor ever have I thought falsehood in my heart. And now, sir, sith ye have been so kind to me, and shown me so great gentilesse, I will—somewhat to requite your courtesy—show you of my secrets, and if ye list to learn, I will teach you fully the manner how I can work in philosophy. Take good heed, and ye shall see well with your own eyes that I will do a master-stroke, ere I depart."

"Yea!" quoth the priest, "yea, sir! will ye so? Marie! I pray you heartily." "Truly, sir, at your commandment," quoth the canon, "and else God forbid!"

Lo! how this thief could offer his service! Full sooth is it that such proffered service stinketh, as these old wise folk be witness; and that full soon will I verify by this canon, root of all deceit, that evermore hath delight and gladness in devising how he may bring Christ's people to mischief, such fiendly thoughts are imprinted on his heart. God keep us from his dissimulation!

This priest wist not with whom he dealt, nor was ware of the harm coming unto him. O simple priest! Simple innocent! Anon shalt thou be blinded by thy covetousness. O graceless one! full blind is thy thought, little art thou ware of the deceit which this fox hath contrived for thee! Thou mayst not escape his wily tricks. Wherefore to pass to the end, that bringeth to thy confusion, unhappy man, I will hie me anon to tell thy folly and the falseness eke of that other wretch, as far forth as my skill may allow.

This canon, perchance ye think, was my lord? Sir host, in faith, by the heaven's queen, it was not he, but another canon, that knoweth more subtlety an hundred fold. He hath many a time betrayed folk; it dulleth me to tell of his falsehood. Whenever I speak of it, my cheeks wax red for shame; at least they begin to glow, for of redness I wot right well I have none in my visage; for diverse fumes of metals, which ye have heard me recite, have consumed and wasted my ruddy hue. Now hearken this canon's cursedness!

"Sir," quoth he to the priest, "let your man go for quicksilver, that we may have it anon; and let him bring two or three ounces; and so soon as he cometh, ye shall see a wondrous thing, which ye saw never ere this." "Sir," quoth the priest, "it shall be done." He bade the servant fetch him that thing, and he was already at his call, and went forth and anon came again with the quicksilver, and gave the three ounces to the canon, who laid them down well and fair, and bade the servant bring coals that he might go anon to his work. The coals were straightway fetched and this canon took out of his bosom a crucible and showed it to the priest. "Take this instrument which thou seest," quoth he, "in thy hand, and thyself put therein an ounce of this quicksilver, and begin here, in the name of Christ, to wax a philosopher. There be few to whom I would offer to show thus much of my science. For ye shall see here, by experiment, that anon I will mortify this quicksilver right in your sight, and make it as good silver and pure as there is in your purse, or mine, or elsewhere, and make it malleable; else hold me false and unfit forevermore to be seen amongst folk. I have here a powder, that cost me dear, which shall make good all that I say; for it is the cause of all my cunning which I shall show you. Send your man forth, and let him be without there and shut the door, whilst we be about our privy working, that no man may behold us whilst we work in this philosophy." All was fulfilled in deed as he bade; straightway the servant went out, and his master shut the door, and speedily they went to their labour.

Anon this priest, as the cursed canon bade, set this thing upon the fire, and blew the fire and busied him full intently; and this canon cast a powder into the crucible, I wot not whereof it was made, either of chalk, or of glass, or of somewhat else not worth a fly, to dupe the priest withal; and bade him to pile the coals up high above the crucible; "for in token that I love thee," quoth the canon, "thine own two hands shall perform all things that shall be done here." "Grammercy," quoth the priest, full blithe, and piled the coals as the canon bade. And while he was busy, this fiendly rogue, this false canon—the foul fiend fetch him!—took from his bosom a beechen coal, in which full subtly was made an hollow and therein was put an ounce of silver filings, and the hole was stopped with wax, to keep in the filings. And understand that this false gin was not made there, but was made before. And I shall tell hereafter of other things which he brought with him; ere he came thither, he planned to deceive the priest, and so he did, ere they parted; he could not leave off till he had flayed him. It wearieth me when I speak of him; I would fain avenge me on his falsehood, if I wist how; but he goeth hither and thither; he is so fickle he abideth nowhere.

But now, sirs, take heed, for God's love! He took this coal of which I spake, and bare it privily in his hand; and whilst the priest was piling the coals busily, as I told you before, this canon said: "Friend, ye do amiss; this is not piled as it ought to be ; but I shall soon amend it. Let me meddle therewith now for a time, for by Saint Gyle! I have pity of you, ye be hot, I see right well how ye sweat. Have this cloth here, and wipe your brow." And while the priest wiped his face, this canon—a curse on him!—took his coal, and laid it above the middle of the crucible, and blew well afterward, till the coals gan burn brightly.

"Now give us drink," quoth he then. "Straightway I undertake all shall be well. Sit we down and let us be merry." And when the canon's beechen coal was burned, anon all the filings fell out of the hollow down into the crucible, as by reason it needs must do, sith it was placed so even above; but alas! thereof wist the priest nothing. He deemed all the coals were alike good, for he comprehended naught of the sleight. And when this alchemist saw his time, "Rise up, sir priest," quoth he, "stand by me ; and because I wot well ye have no mould, go walk forth and bring a chalk-stone; for if I may have luck, I will shape one as a mould ; and bring with you eke a bowl, or a pan, full of water, and then ye shall see well how our business shall thrive and succeed. And yet, that ye may have no misbelief or wrong conceit of me in your absence, I will not be out of your sight, but go with you, and come back with you." To speak briefly, they opened and shut the chamber-door, and went their way, and carried the key forth with them, and came again without tarrying. Why should I dwell on it all the day long? He took the chalk and wrought it in the shape of a mould, as I shall describe unto you. I say he took out of his own sleeve (evil be his end!) a thin plate of silver, which was but an ounce in weight; and take heed of his cursed trick now! He shaped his mould, in length and breadth, like this plate, so slyly that the priest saw it not; and again he gan hide it in his sleeve; and from the fire he took up his metal, and with merry cheer poured it into the mould; and when he list, he cast it into the water-vessel and straightway bade the priest, "Look what is there, put thy hand in and feel; thou shalt find silver there as I hope." What, devil of hell! should it be else? Silver shavings be silver, pardee! This priest put in his hand and took up a thin plate of fine silver, and glad in every vein was he when he saw that it was so. "God's blessing, and eke his mother's, and all the saints, may ye have, sir canon," said he, "if ye will vouchsafe to teach me this noble craft and subtlety, and I their malison, unless I will be yours, in all things that ever I may."

Quoth the canon: "I will try yet a second time, that ye may observe and be expert in this, and another time at your need essay this process and this crafty art in mine absence. Let us take another ounce of quicksilver, without more words, and do therewith as ye have done erst with that other, which now is silver."

This priest busieth him in all he may to do as this cursed canon commanded him, and blew the coals hard for to come at his desire. And in the meantime the canon was all ready again to beguile the priest, and for a ruse he bore in his hand an hollow stick (take heed and beware!), in the end of which was put an even ounce of silver filings (as before was put in the coal) , and the hollow stopped well with wax, to keep in his filings every whit. And while the priest was busy, this canon with his stick came up anon, and cast in his powder, as he did before (the devil flay him out of his skin, I pray to God, for his falsehood; for he was false ever in thought and deed); and with this stick that was provided with that false contrivance he stirred the coals above the crucible, till the wax melted against the fire, as every man but a fool wot well it needs must do, and all that was in the stick ran out and slipped straightway into the crucible. Now, good sirs, what would ye better than well? When this priest was beguiled again thus, supposing naught but truth, he was so glad that I can express in no manner his mirth and his joy; and thereupon he proffered to the canon both his body and his goods. "Yea," quoth the canon, "though I be poor, thou shalt find me skillful; I warn thee there is yet more to come. Is there any copper here in your house?" "Yea, sir," quoth the priest, "I trow well there be." "Else go buy us some and that straightway. Go forth thy way now, good sir, and hie thee."

He went his way and came with the copper, and the canon took it in his hands, and weighed out of that copper but an ounce. My tongue, as minister of my wit, is all too simple to express the doubleness of this canon, root of all treachery. He seemed friendly to them that knew him not, but he was fiendly both in heart and in mind. It wearieth me to tell of his falseness, yet natheless will I tell of it, to the intent that men may beware thereby, and truly for no other cause.

He put his ounce of copper in the crucible and straightway set it on the fire, and cast powder in, and made the priest to blow and in his working to stoop, as he did before, and all was but a knavish trick; as he list, he made the priest his ape. And afterward he cast it into the mould, and put it at last in the pan of water; and he put in his own hand. And in his sleeve (as ye heard me tell before) he had a thin plate of silver. The cursed hind, slyly he took it out—the priest knowing naught of his false cunning—and in the pan's bottom he left it, and fumbled to and fro in the water, and took up wondrous privily the copper plate and hid it; and caught him by the breast, and spake to him and said thus in his sporting, "Stoop adown, by the mass, ye be to blame; help me now as I did you a while ago. Put in your hand and look what is there." The priest took up anon his plate of silver, and then said the canon, "Let us go with these three plates which we have wrought to some goldsmith, and know if they be worth somewhat; for I would not by my faith, for mine hood, that they were other than pure and fine silver, and that shall straightway be proved."

Unto the goldsmith they went with these three plates and put them to the test with fire and hammer; no man might say but they were as they ought to be.

Who was happier than this besotted priest? Never nightingale joyed better to sing in the season of May, never was bird gladder of the morn, nor ever had lady more delight to carol or to speak of love and womanhood, nor knight to do an hardy deed in arms to stand in the grace of his lady dear, than had this priest to gain knowledge of this sorry craft; and thus he spake to the canon and said, "For love of God that died for us all, and as I may deserve this favour of you, what should this receipt cost? tell nowl" "By our lady," quoth this canon, "I warn you well it is dear; for save me and a friar, there can no man make it in England." "No matter," quoth he, "now, sir, for God's sake, what shall I pay? tell me, I prithee." "In sooth," quoth he, "it is full dear. In one word, sir, if ye list to have it, ye shall pay forty pound, so God help me! And were it not for the friendship ye have shown me ere this, ye should pay more, in faith."

This priest fetched anon the sum of forty pound in nobles, and handed them all to this canon for that receipt; yet all its working was but fraud and falsehood.

"Sir priest," he said, "I reck not for renown in my craft, for I would it were kept close; as ye love me, keep it secret; for if men knew all my subtle cunning, they would be so envious of me, by the mass, because of my philosophy, that I should die for it ; there were none other end." "God forbid!" quoth the priest, "what say ye? I were mad but I would liefer spend all the goods which I have, than that ye should fall into such misfortune." "Have here right good speed, sir, for your good will," quoth the canon, "grammercy and farewell!" He went his way and never the priest saw him after that hour; and when at such time as he would, the priest came to make essay of this receipt, farewell, then! It would not work. Lo! thus was he duped and beguiled! Thus maketh this canon his first step to bring folk to their destruction.

Consider, sirs, how in every estate of life there is such conflict betwixt men and gold that there is scarce any gold left. This multiplying blindeth so many that in good faith I trow that it is the greatest cause of such scarceness. Philosophers speak so mistily in this craft that men cannot come at their meaning by any wit that men have now. They may well chatter as these jays do, and busily devise strange terms and take delight therein, but they shall never attain to their purpose. If a man have aught, he may lightly learn to multiply and bring his goods to nothing. Lo! in this lusty game is such lucre that it will turn a man's mirth unto bitterness, and empty eke great and heavy purses, and make folk to earn maledictions of them that have lent their goods thereto. Fie! for shame! they that have been burned, alas! cannot they flee the fire's heat? Ye that practise it, I warn you leave it, lest ye lose all; for better is late than never. Never to thrive were too long a date. Though ye prowl for aye, ye shall never discover it. Ye be as bold as Bayard, the blind, that blundereth forth and thinketh no peril; he is ever as bold to run against a stone as to walk aside in the road. So fare ye that multiply, I say. If your eyes cannot see aright, look that your mind lack not its vision. For though ye look never so far abroad and stare, ye shall not win a mite on that business, but waste all ye can clutch and touch. Take the fire away, lest it burn too hard. Meddle no more, I mean, with that art, for if ye do, your thrift is gone utterly. And now will I tell you what philosophers say of this matter.

Lo! Arnold of the New Town saith thus, as his Rosarie maketh mention: "No man can mortify Mercury, unless it be with his brother's knowledge. He that first said this thing was Hermes, father of philosophers ; he saith how without doubt the dragon dieth not, unless he be slain by his brother; that is to say by the dragon he understood Mercury and none else; and brimstone by the brother; that were both drawn out of sol and luna. And therefore," he said, "give heed to my saying: let no man busy him to seek after this art, unless he can understand the intent and speech of philosophers; for if he do, he is an ignorant man. For this science and this cunning, pardee, is of the secret of secrets."

Also there was a disciple of Plato, that on a time asked of his master, as his book Senior will bear witness, "Tell me the name of the secret stone." And Plato answered unto him, "Take the stone that men call Titanos." "Which is that?" quoth he. "The same is magnesia," said Plato. "Yea, sir; is it so? This is ignotum per ignotius. Good sir, what is magnesia, I pray you?" "It is a water," quoth Plato, "that is made of four elements." "Tell me, good sir," quoth he then, "the source of that water, if it please you." "Nay, nay," quoth Plato, "that certainly I will not. For all philosophers have sworn that they shall discover it unto none, nor write it in any book, in any manner ; for it is so dear unto Christ that he will not that it be discovered, save where it pleaseth his deity to inspire man, and eke he forbiddeth it unto whom it pleaseth him; lo! this is all."

I conclude then thus: Sith God of heaven willeth not that the philosophers declare how a man shall come unto this stone, I counsel, as for the best, to let it go. For whoso maketh God his adversary, as for to work anything in defiance of his will, shall never prosper, though he multiply all his life. And here an end; for my story is done. God send every true man help out of his trouble. Amen.

Here is ended the Canon's Yeoman s Tale.