The Summoner's Tale

The Summoner's Tale

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  • How familiar this friar is with hell!
  • The true and natural home of all of his kind, The devil's arse.
  • Gentlemen, in Yorkshire I believe there is A marshy region known as Holderness, In which a limiter used to go about preaching to folk-and vegging too, no doubt.
  • Then off he went; no longer would he wait. With bag for alms, tipped staff, grown tucked up high, He'd go around the houses, poke and pry, Begging for cheese or flour, wheat or corn.
  • 'O sir, just one short word before I go, said she. 'My baby died two weeks ago, not a very long after you last left town'
  • On went this friar from house to house, till he came to a dwelling where he used to be better looked after than in all the others. But as for the good man whose house it was, Ill and bedridden on a couch he lay.
  • 'I saw his death in a revelation back home in our dormitory.' said the friar. 'I daresay that in less than half an hour after his death he was borne up to heaven.'
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