coverlet well spread: Not twelve feet from his own bed did it stand. His daughter, by herself, as it was planned, In a small passage closet, slept close by: It might no better be, for reasons why,— There was no wider chamber in the place. They sup, and jest, and show a merry face, And drink of ale, the strongest and the best. It was just midnight when they went to rest.

Well hath this Simkin varnished his hot head; Full pale he was with drinking, and nought red. He hiccougheth, and speaketh through the nose, As with the worst of colds, or quinsy’s throes. To bed he goeth, and with him trips his wife; Light as a jay, and jolly seemed her life, So was her jolly whistle well ywet. The cradle at her bed’s foot close she set To rock, or nurse the infant in the night. And when the jug of ale was emptied quite, To bed, likewise, the daughter went anon: To bed goes Allen; with him also John. All’s said: they need no drugs from poppies pale, This Miller hath so wisely bibbed of ale; But as an horse he snorteth in his sleep, And blurteth secrets which awake he’d keep. His wife a burden bare him, and full strong: Men might their routing hear a good furlóng. The daughter routeth else, par compagnie.

Allen, the clerk, that heard this melody, Now poketh John, and said, “Why sleepest thou? Heardest thou ever sic a song ere now? Lo, what a serenade’s among them all! A wild-fire red upon their bodies fall! Wha ever listened to sae strange a thing? The flower of evil shall their ending bring. This whole night there to me betides no rest. But, courage yet, all shall be for the best; For, John,” said he, “as I may ever thrive, To pipe a merrier serenade I’ll strive In the dark passage somewhere near to us; For, John, there is a law which sayeth thus,— That if a man in one point be aggrieved, Right in another he shall be relieved: Our corn is stolen—sad yet sooth to say— And we have had an evil bout to-day; But since the Miller no amends will make, Against our loss we should some payment take. His sonsie daughter will I seek to win, And get our meal back—de’il reward his sin! By hallow-mass it shall no otherwise be!”

But John replied, “Allen, well counsel thee: The Miller is a perilous man,” he said, “And if he wake and start up from his bed, He may do both of us a villainy.”  “Nay,” Allen said, “I count him not a flie!” And up he rose, and crept along the floor Into the passage humming with their snore: As narrow was it as a drum or tub. And like a beetle doth he grope and grub, Feeling his way with darkness in his hands, Till at the passage-end he stooping stands.

John lieth 

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