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In olde time there was in Lecester town An abbay of munks of great renown, As ye shall now after heer. But amongst them all was one there That passed all his brethern, iwis: His name was Dane Hew, so have I blis. This munk was yung and lusty And to fair women he had a fansy, And for them he laid great wait indeed.    In Leicester dwelled a tayler, I reed, Which wedded a woman fair and good. They looved eche other, by my hood, Seven yeer and somwhat more. Dane Hew looved this taylers wife sore And thought alway in his minde When he might her alone finde, And how he might her assay, And if she would not say him nay.    Upon a day he said, “Fair woman free, Without I have my pleasure of thee I am like to go from my wit.”    “Sir,” she said, “I have many a shrewd fit Of my husband every day.”    “Dame,” he said, “say not nay. My pleasure I must have of thee Whatsoever that it cost mee.”    She answered and said, “If it must needs be, Come tomorow unto me, For then my husband rideth out of the town. And then to your wil I wil be bown, And then we may make good game. And if ye come not, ye be to blame. But Dane Hew, first tel thou me What that my rewarde shal be.”    “Dame,” he said, “by my fay, Twenty nobles of good money, For we wil make good cheer this day.” And so they kist and went their way.    The tayler came home at even tho, Like as he was wunt to doo, And his wife tolde him all and some How Dane Hew in the morning would come, And what her meed of him should be.    “What! Dame, thou art mad, so mot I thee. Wilt thou me a cuckolds hood give? That should me shrewdly greeve.”    “Nay, sir,” she said, “by sweet Saint John, I wil keep myself a good woman And get thee money also, iwis. For he hath made therof a promisse, Tomorow earely heer to be: I know wel he will not fail me. And I shall lock you in the chest That ye out of the way may be mist. And when Dane Hew commeth hether early, About five of the clock truely — For at that time his houre is set To come hether then without any let — Then I shall you call ful lightly. Look that ye come unto me quickly.”    And when the day began to appeer in the morning, Dane Hew came thitherwarde fast renning: He thought that he had past his houre. Then softly he knocked at the taylers door.    She rose up and bad him come neer, And said, “Sir, welcome be ye heer.”    “Good morow,” he said, “gentle mistris; Now tel me where your husband is, That we may be sure indeed.”    “Sir,” she said, “so God me speed, He is foorth of the town And wil not come home til after noon.”    With that Dane Hew was wel content, And lightly in armes he did her hent And thought to have had good game.    “Sir,” she said, “let be for shame. For I wil knowe first what I shall have: For when I have it I wil it not crave. Give me twenty nobles first, And doo with me then what ye list.”    “By my preesthood,” quoth he than, “Thou shalt have in golde and silver anon; Thou shalt no longer crave it of me. Lo, my mistresse, where they be.” And in her lap he it threw.    “Gramercy,” she said unto Dane Hew.    Dane Hew thought this wife to assay.    “Abide, sir,” she said, “til I have laid it away,” For so she thought it should be best. With that she opened then a chest.    Then Dane Hew thought to have had her alone, But the tayler out of the chest anon, And said, “Sir Munk, if thou wilt stand, I shall give thee a stroke with my brand That thou shalt have but little lust unto my wife.” And lightly without any more strife He hit Dane Hew upon the hed That he fel down stark dead.    Thus was he first slain indeed.    “Alas,” then said his wife, “with an evil speed Have ye slain this munk so soone? Whither now shall we run or gone?”    “There is no remedy,” then said he, “Without thou give good counsail to me To convay this false preest out of the way, That no man speak of it ne say That I have killed him or slain, Or els that we have doon it in vain.”    “Yea, sir,” she said, “let him abide Til it be soon in the eventide; Then shall we him wel convay, For ye shall beare him into the abbay And set him straight up by the wall, And come your way foorthwithall.”    The abbot sought him all about, For he heard say that he was out, And was very angry with him indeed, And would never rest, so God me speed, Until Dane Hew that he had found, And bad his man to seek him round About the place, and to him say That he come “speak with me straightway.”    Foorth went his man til at the last, Beeing abrode, his eye he cast Aside where he Dane Hew did see, And unto him then straight went he. And thinking him to be alive He said, “Dane Hew, so mut I thrive, I have sought you and mervel how That I could not finde you til now.”    Dane Hew stood as stil as he that could not tel What he should say. No more he did, good nor il.    With that the abbots man said with good intent, “Sir, ye must come to my lord, or els you be shent.” When Dane Hew answered never a dele He thought he would aske some counsail; Then to the abbot he gan him hye.    “I pray you, my lord, come by and by And see where Dane Hew stands straight by the wall, And wil not answere, whatsoever I call, And he stareth and looketh upon one place Like a man that is out of grace, And one woord he wil not speak for me.”    “Get me a staf,” quoth the abbot, “and I shall see And if he shall not unto me answere.”    Then when the abbot came there And saw him stand upright by the wall, He then to him began to call And said, “Thou false bribour, thou shalt aby. Why keepest thou not thy service truely? Come hether,” he said, “with an evil speed.”    But no woord than Dane Hew answered indeed.    “What, whoreson!” quoth the abbot. “Why spekest not thou? Speak, or els I make God a vow I wil give thee such a stroke upon thy head That I shall make thee to fall down dead.”    And with that he gave him such a rap That he fel down at that clap.    Thus was he the second time slain, And yet he wroght them much more pain, As ye shall afterwarde heer ful wel.    “Sir,” quoth the abbots man, “ye have doon il, For ye have slain Dane Hew now And suspended this place, I make God a vow.”    “What remedy?” quod the abbot than.    “Yes,” quoth his man, “by sweet Saint John, If ye would me a good rewarde give, That I may be the better while that I live.”    “Yes,” quoth the abbot, “forty shillings thou shalt have And if thou can mine honor save.”    “My lord, I tel you, so mot I thee, Unto such a taylers house haunted he To woo his prety wife certain, And thither I shall him bring again, And there upright I shall him set That no man shall it knowe or wit. And then every man wil sain That the tayler hath him slain, For he was very angry with him That he came to his wife so oft time.”    Of his counsail he was wel appaid. And his man took up Dane Hew that braid And set him at the taylers door anon And ran home as fast as he might gone.    The tayler and his wife were in bed And of Dane Hew were sore afraid Lest that he would them bewray, And to his wife began to say, “All this night I have dreamed of this false caitife, That he came to our door,” quoth he to his wife.    “Jesus,” quoth his wife, “what man be ye That of a dead man so sore afraid ye be? For me thought that you did him slo.”    With that the tayler to the door gan go, And a polax in his hand, And saw the munk by the door stand, Whereof he was sore afraid. And stil he stood and no woord said Til he spake unto his wife: “Dame, now have I lost my life Without I kil him first of all.” Foorth he took his polax or mall And hit Dane Hew upon the head That he fel down stark dead.    And thus was Dane Hew three times slain, And yet he wrought him a train.    “Alas,” quoth the taylers wife, “This caitife dooth us much strife.”    “Dame,” he said, “what shall we now doo?”    “Sir,” she said, “so mote I go, The munk in a corner ye shall lay Til tomorow before the day. Then in a sack ye shall him thrast And in the mildam ye shall him cast. I counsail it you for the best, surely.”    So the tayler thought to doo, truely. In the morning he took Dane Hew in a sack And laid him lightly upon his back. Unto the mildam he gan him hye, And there two theeves he did espye That fro the mil came as fast as they might. But when of the tayler they had a sight They were abashed very sore, For they had thought the miller had come thore, For of him they were sore afraid, That their sack there down they laid And went a little aside, I cannot tel where. And with that the tayler saw the sack lye there; Then he looked therin anon And he saw it was ful of bacon. Dane Hew then he laid down there And so the bacon away did beare Til he came home. And that was true.    The theeves took up the sack with Dane Hew And went their way til they came home.    One of the theeves said to his wife anon, “Dame, look what is in that sack, I thee pray, For there is good bacon, by my fay; Therfore make us good cheer lightly.”    The wife ran to the sack quickly, And when she had the sack unbound The dead munck therein she found. Then she cryed “Out!” and said “Alas! I see heer a mervailous case That ye have slain Dane Hew so soon. Hanged shall ye be if it be knowen.”    “Nay, good, dame,” said they again to her, “For it hath been the false miller.”    Then they took Dane Hew again And brought him to the mil certain Where they did steale the bacon before. And there they hanged Dane Hew for store.    Thus was he once hanged indeed. And the theeves ran home as fast as they could speed.    The millers wife rose on the morning erly And lightly made herself redy To fetch some bacon at the last. But when she looked up she was agast That she saw the munk hang there. She cryed out and put them all in fere, And said, “Heer is a chaunce for the nones, For heer hangeth the false munk, by cocks bones, That hath been so lecherous many a day And with mens wives used to play. Now somebody hath quit his meed ful wel — I trow it was the devil of hell — And our bacon is stolne away. This I call a shrewd play. I wot not what we shall this winter eate.”    “What, wife,” quoth the miller, “ye must all this forget, And give me some good counsail, I pray, How we shall this munk convay And privily of him we may be quit.”    “Sir,” she said, “that shall you lightly wit. Lay him in a corner til it be night And we shall convay him or it be daylight. The abbot hath a close heer beside; Therein he hath a good horse untide. Go and fetch him home at night And bring him unto me straight, And we shall set him thereupon indeed, And binde him fast, so God me speed, And give him a long pole in his hand Like as he would his enmies withstand, And under his arme we wil it thrust Like as he would fiercely just.    For,” she said, “as ye wel knowe, The abbot hath a mare, gentle and lowe, Which ambleth wel and trotteth in no wise. But in the morning when the abbot dooth rise He commaundeth his mare to him to be brought, For to see his workmen, if they lack ought, And upon the mare he rideth, as I you tel, For to see and all things be wel. And when this horse seeth this mare anon, Unto her he wil lightly run or gone.”    When the miller this understood He thought his wives counsail was good, And held him wel therwith content, And ran for the horse verament. And when he the horse had fet at the last Dane Hew upon his back he cast And bound him to the horse ful sure That he might the better indure To ride as fast as they might ren. Now shall ye knowe how the miller did then: He tooke the horse by the brydle anon — And Dane Hew sitting theron — And brought him that of the mare he had a sight. Then the horse ran ful right.    The abbot looked a little him beside And saw that Dane Hew towarde him gan ride, And was almoste out of his minde for feare When he saw Dane Hew come so neere.    He cryed, “Help, for the loove of the Trinité, For I see wel that Dane Hew avenged wil be. Alas! I am but a dead man.” And with that from his mare he ran.   The abbots men ran on Dane Hew quickly And gave him many strokes lightly With clubs and staves many one. They cast him to the earth anone; So they killed him once again.    Thus was he once hanged and foure times slain, And buried at the last, as it was best. I pray God send us all good rest.       Amen.

(t-note) (see note) brothers, certainly Master Hugh; (see note) lurked in ambush read (see note) very much have intercourse with If; (t-note) noble Unless likely to go out of my mind vigorous romp bound faith gold coins; (see note) in the evening then Just as; accustomed the whole story reward (see note) (see note) severely (see note) missed here delay quickly running (see note) out of take beg for you please Thank you expected to; grope (see note) stand still sword bad luck Unless remove secretly early in the evening immediately outside the monastery as I hope to disgraced not a bit he hurried right away If vagabond; pay (see note) blast you; (t-note) whack (t-note) (see note) profaned i.e., there is no remedy (t-note) If a certain; frequented find out satisfied minute expose [the tailor]; (see note) scoundrel it seemed to me that you slew him (see note) Unless hammer still; played a trick on him causes; trouble as I hope to be able to walk; (t-note) thrust milldam; (see note) hurried (t-note) a good meal quickly “Oh no!” astonishing in storage; (see note) fear bad luck for sure (see note) paid him back think dirty trick be rid quickly find out before enclosed field untied As if joust (t-note) meek not at all if very satisfied with it truly fetched run in a straight line