I ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ii" M., - MI /i''.' ~... it ii:~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~....................................................~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~i ................ ~' 45............... X.2:~.:...:..................'..... rr' 4-' 1:~'?'''';' i! -,,::i....~-:-: — z:i''-t.::-,;:,:.,.,,,.,'>:-': ii i i -::- i:::.."'.': C: A'?4,;",:............... ~;:''. %re'~~a:;**i-"~I:,:;:;u - Discriminatingl' - NA M:::~ ~:: A::~ i~:ji~::::~~:~ VW CONTENTS. PAGE PREFACE,.. v POEMS OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. PAGE PAGE LIFE OF CHAUCER,..... 3 Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas,.. 146 THE CANTERBURY TALES- Chaucer's Tale of Melibceus,.. 149 The Prologue,..... 17 The Monk's Tale,.... 156 The Knight's Tale,..26 The Nun's Priest's Tale,.. 164 -The Miller's Tale,.... 47 The Second Nun's Tale,.. 171 The Reeve's Tale,. 54 The Canon's Yeoman's Tale,..177 The Cook's Tale,.. 59 The Manciple's Tale,... 186 The Man of Law's Tale,.. 60 The Parson's Tale,.... 189 The Wife of Bath's Tale,.. 71 THE COURT OF LOVE,.... 200 The Friar's Tale,... 83 THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE,. 211 The Sompnour's Tale,... 87 THE ASSEMBLY OF FOWLS,.. 215 The Clerk's Tale,.... 93 THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF,.. 224 The Merchant's Tale,..104 THE HOUSE OF FAME,.... 231 The Squire's Tale,... 115, ROILUS AND CRESSIDA,.... 247 The Franklin's Tale,... 122 CHAUCER'S DREAM,.. 274 The Doctor's Tale,.. 130 THE PROLOGUE TO THE LEGEND OF GOOD The Pardoner's Tale,.,..... 133 WOMEN,... 281 The Shipman's Tale,.... 139 CHAUCER'S AB. C..... 287 The Prioress's Tale,... 144 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS,... 289-292 POEMS OF EDMUND SPENSER. PAGB PAGE LIFE OF SPENSER,..... 295 THE SHEPHERD'S CALENDAR,... 555 THE FAERIE QUEEN,.. 305 THE RUINS OF TIME,.... 583 Book I. The Legend of Holiness,. 310 PROSOPOPOIA: OR, MOTHER HUBBERD'S Book II. The Legend of Temperance, 365 TALE,... 590 Book III. The Legend of Chastity,. 408 MUIOPOTMOS; OR, THE FATE OF THE BUTBook IV. The Legend of Friendship, 444 TERFLY,.... 602 Book V. The Legend of Justice,. 481 COLIN CLOUT'S COME HOME AGAIN,. 607 Book VI. The Legend of Courtesy,. 512 AMORETTI; OR, SONNETS,.... 616 The Two Cantos of Mutability,. 543. EITHALAMION,. 620 PREFACE. THE object of this volume is to place before the general reader our two early poetic masterpieces-The Canterbury Tales and The Faerie Queen; to do so in a way that will render their "popular perusal" easy in a time of little leisure and unbounded temptations to intellectual languor; and, on the same conditions, to present a liberal and fairly representative selection from the less important and familiar poems of Chaucer and Spenser. There is, it may be said at the outset, peculiar advantage and propriety in placing the two poets side by side in the manner now attempted for the first time. Although two centuries divide them, yet Spenser is the direct and really the immediate successor to the poetical inheritance of Chaucer. Those two hundred years, eventful as they were, produced no poet at all worthy to take up the mantle that fell from Chaucer's shoulders; and Spenser does not need his affected archaisms, nor his frequent and reverent appeals to "Dan Geffrey," to vindicate for himself a place very close to his great predecessor in the literary history of England. If Chaucer is the " Well of English undefiled," Spenser is the broad and stately river that yet holds the tenure of its very life from the fountain far away in other and ruder scenes. The Canterbury Tales, so far as they are in verse, have been printed without any abridgment or designed change in the sense. But the two Tales in prose -Chaucer's Tale of Melibceus, and the Parson's long Sermon on Penitencehave been contracted, so as to exclude thirty pages of unattractive prose, and to admit the same amount of interesting and characteristic poetry. The gaps thus made in the prose Tales, however, are supplied by careful outlines of the omitted matter, so that the reader need be at no loss to comprehend the whole scope and sequence of the original. With The Faerie Queen a bolder course has been pursued. The great obstacle to the popularity of Spenser's splendid work has lain less in its language than in its length. If we add together the three great poems of antiquity-the twenty-four books of the Iliad, the twenty-four books of the Odyssey, and the twelve books of the AEneid-we get at the dimensions of only one-half of The Faerie Queen. The six books, and the fragment of a seventh, which alone exist of the author's contemplated twelve, number about 35,000 verses; the sixty books of Homer and Virgil number no more than vi PREFA CE. 37,000. The mere bulk of the poem, then, has opposed a formidable barrier to its popularity; to say nothing of the distracting effect produced by the numberless episodes, the tedious narrations, and the constant repetitions, which have largely swelled that bulk. In this volume the poem is compressed into two-thirds of its original space, through the expedient of representing the less interesting and more mechanical passages by a condensed prose outline, in which it has been sought as far as possible to preserve the very words of the poet. While deprecating a too critical judgment on the bare and constrained precis standing in such trying juxtaposition, it is hoped that the labour bestowed in saving the reader the trouble of wading through much that is not essential for the enjoyment of Spenser's marvellous allegory, will not be unappreciated. As regards the manner in which the text of the two great works, especially of The Canterbury Tales, is presented, the Editor is aware that some whos' judgment is weighty will differ from him. This volume has been prepared'for popular perusal;" and its very raison d'atre would have failed, if the ancient orthography had been retained. It has often been affirmed by editors of Chaucer in the old forms of the language, that a little trouble at first would render the antiquated spelling and obsolete inflections a continual source, not of difficulty, but of actual delight, for the reader coming to the study of Chaucer without any preliminary acquaintance with the English of his day-or of his copyists' days. Despite this complacent assurance, the obvious fact is, that Chaucer in the old forms has not become popular, in the true sense of the word; he is not "understanded of the vulgar." In this volume, therefore, the text of Chaucer has been presented in nineteenth-century garb. But there has been not the slightest attempt to "modernise" Chaucer, in the wider meaning of the phrase; to replace his words by words which he did not use; or, following the example of some operators, to translate him into English of the modern spirit as well as the modern forms. So far from that, in every case where the old spelling or form seemed essential to metre, to rhyme, or meaning, no change has been attempted. But, wherever its preservation was not essential, the spelling of the monkish transcribers-for the most ardent purist must now despair of getting at the spelling of Chaucer himself-has been discarded for that of the reader's own day. It is a poor compliment to the Father of English Poetry, to say that by such treatment the bouquet and individuality of his works must be lost. If his masterpiece is valuable for one thing more than any other, it is the vivid distinctness with which English men and women of the fourteenth century are there painted, for the study of all the centuries to follow. But we wantonly balk the artist's own purpose, and discredit his labour, when we keep before his picture the screen of dust and cobwebs which, for the English people in these days, the crude forms of the infant language have practically become. Shakespeare has not suffered by similar changes; Spenser has not suffered; it would be surprising if Chaucer should suffer, when the loss of popular comprehension and favour in his case are necessarily all the greater for his remoteness from our day. In a much smaller degree —since previous labours in the same direction had left far less to do-the same work has been performed for the spelling of Spenser; and the PREFACE. vii whole endeavour in this department of the EditosB task ha been, to present a text plain and easily intelligible to the modern reader, without rendering any injustice to the old poet. It would be presumptuous to believe that in every case both ends have been achieved together; but the audatores temporis acti — the students who may differ most from the plan pursued in this volume-will best appreciate the difficulty of the enterprise, and most leniently regard any failure in the details of its accomplishment. With all the works of Chaucer, outside The Canterbury Tales, it would have been absolutely impossible to deal within the scope of this volume. But nearly one hundred pages (200-292), have been devoted to his minor poems; and, by dint of careful selection and judicious abridgment-a connecting outline of the story in all such cases being given-the Editor ventures to hope that he has presented fair and acceptable specimens of Chaucer's workmanship in all styles. The preparation of this part of the volume has been a laborious task; no similar attempt on the same scale has been made; and, while here also the truth of the text in matters essential has been in nowise sacrificed to mere ease of perusal, the general reader will find opened up for him a new view of Chaucer and his works. Before a perusal of these hundred pages, will melt away for ever the lingering tradition or prejudice that Chaucer was only, or characteristically, a coarse buffoon, who pandered to a base and licentious appetite by painting and exaggerating the lowest vices of his time. In these selections-made without a thought of taking only what is to the poet's credit from a wide range of poems in which hardly a word is to his discredit-we behold Chaucer as he was; a courtier, a gallant, pure-hearted gentleman, a scholar, a philosopher, a poet of gay and vivid fancy, playing around themes of chivalric convention, of deep human interest, or broad-sighted satire. In The Canterbury Tales, we see, not Chaucer, but Chaucer's times and neighbours; the artist has lost himself in his work. To show him honestly and without disguise, as he lived his own life and sung his own songs at the brilliant Court of Edward III., is to do his memory a moral justice far more material than any literary wrong that can ever come out of spelling. As to the minor poems of Spenser, which follow The Faerie Queen, the choice has been governed by the desire to give at once the most interesting, and the most characteristic of the poet's several styles; and, save in the case of the Sonnets, the poems so selected are given entire. It is manifest that the endeavours to adapt this volume for popular use, which have been already noticed, would imperfectly succeed without the aid of notes and glossary, to explain allusions that have become obsolete, or antiquated words which it was necessary to retain. An endeavour has been made to render each page self-explanatory, by placing on it all the glossarial and illustrative notes required for its elucidation, or-to avoid repetitions that would have occupied space-the references to the spot where information may be found. The great advantage of such a plan to the reader, is the measure of its difficulty for the editor. It permits much more flexibility in the choice of glossarial explanations or equivalents; it saves the distracting and time-consuming labour of reference to the end or the beginning of the book; but, at the viil PREFACE. same time, it largely enhances the liabilities to error. The Editor is conscious that in the 12,000 or 13,000 notes, as well as in the innumerable minute points of spelling, accentuation, and rhythm, he must now and again be found tripping; he can only ask any reader who may detect all that he could himself point out as being amiss, to set off against inevitable mistakes and misjudgments, the conscientious labour bestowed on the book, and the broad consideration of its fitness for the object contemplated. The Editor, working frequently under disadvantages, has incurred the sole responsibility for the issue of the undertaking. From books he has derived valuable help; as from Mr Cowden Clarke's revised modern text of The Canterbury Tales, published in Mr Nimmo's Library Edition of the English Poets; from Mr Wright's scholarly edition of the same work; from the indispensable Tyrwhitt; from Mr Bell's edition of Chaucer's Poems; from Professor Craik's "Spenser and his Poetry," published twenty-five years ago by Charles Knight; and from many others. In the abridgment of The Faerie Queen, the plan may at first sight seem to be modelled on the lines of Mr Craik's painstaking condensation; but the coincidences are either inevitable or involuntary. Many of the notes, especially of those explaining classical references and those attached to the minor poems of Chaucer, have been prepared specially for this edition. The Editor leaves his task with the hope that his attempt to remove artificial obstacles to the popularity of England's earliest great poets, will not altogether miscarry. D. LAING PURVES. LONDON, December 7, 1869. THE CANTERBURY TALES; AND OTHER POEMS OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER A LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. NoT in point of genius only, but even in point of time, Chaucer may claim the proud designation of " first" English poet. He wrote " The Court of Love" in 1346, and "The Romaunt of the Rose," if not also " Troilus and Cressida," probably within the next decade: the dates usually assigned to the poems of Laurence Minot extend from 1335 to 1355, while " The Vision of Piers Plowman " mentions events that occurred in 1360 and 1362-before which date Chaucer had certainly written " The Assembly of Fowls" and his " Dream." But, though they were his contemporaries, neither Minot nor Langland(if Langland was the author of the Vision) at all approached Chaucer in the finish, the force, or the universal interest of their works; and the poems of earlier writers, as Layamon and the author of the C Ormulum," are less English than Anglo-Saxon or Anglo-Norman. Those poems reflected the perplexed struggle for supremacy between the two grand elements of our language, which marked the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; a struggle intimately associated with the political relations between the conquering Normans and the subjugated Anglo-Saxons. Chaucer found two branches of the language; that spoken by the people, Teutonic in its genius and its forms; that spoken by the learned and the noble, based on the French. Yet each branch had begun to borrow of the other-just as nobles and people had been taught to recognise that each needed the other in the wars and the social tasks of the time; and Chaucer, a scholar, a courtier, a man conversant with all orders of society, but accustomed to speak, think, and write in the words of the highest, by his comprehensive genius cast into the simmering mould a magical amalgamant which made the two half-hostile elements unite and interpenetrate each other. Before Chaucer wrote, there were two tongues in England, keeping alive the feuds and resentments of cruel centuries; when he laid down his pen, there was practically but one speech-there was, and ever since has been, but one people. Geoffrey Chaucer, according to the most trustworthy traditions-for authentic testimonies on the subject are wanting-was born in 1328; and London is generally believed to have been his birth-place. It is true that Leland, the biographer of England's first great poet who lived nearest to his time, not merely speaks of Chaucer as having been born many years later than the date now assigned, but mentions -Berkshire or Oxfordshire as the scene of his birth. So great uncertainty have some felt on the latter score, that elaborate parallels have been drawn between Chaucer, and Homer-for whose birth-place several cities contended, and whose descent was traced to the demigods. Leland may seem to have had fair opportunities of getting at the truth about Chaucer's birth-for Henry VIII. had commissioned him, at the suppression of the monasteries throughout England, to 4 LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHA l CER. search for records of public interest the archives of the religious houses. But it may be questioned whether he was likely to find many authentic particulars regarding the personal history of the poet in the quarters which he explored; and Leland's testimony seems to be set aside by Chaucer's own evidence as to his birthplace, and by the contemporary references which make him out an aged man for years preceding the accepted date of his death. In one of his prose works, " The Testament of Love," the poet speaks of himself in terms that strongly confirm the claim of London to the honour of giving him birth; for he there mentions " the city of London, that is to me so dear and sweet, in which I was forth growen; and more kindly love," says he, "have I to that place than to any other in earth; as every kindly creature hath full appetite to that place of his kindly engendrure, and to will rest and peace in that place to abide." This tolerably direct evidence is supported-so far as it can be at such aninterval of time-by the learned Camden; in his Annals of Queen Elizabeth, he describes Spenser, who (see page 295) was certainly born in London, as being a fellow-citizen of Chaucer's-"~Edmundus Spenserus,patri2 Londinensis,.Musis adeo arridentibus natus, ut omnes Anglicos superioris evi poetas, ne Chaucero quidem concive excepto, superaret." The records of the time notice more than one person of the name of Chaucer, who held honourable positions about the Court; and though we cannot distinctly trace the poet's relationship with any of these namesakes or antecessors, we find excellent ground for belief that his family or friends stood well at Court, in the ease with which Chaucer made his way there, and in his subsequent career. Like his great successor, Spenser, it was the fortune of Chaucer to live under a splendid, chivalrous, and high-spirited reign. 1328 was the second year of Edward III.; and, what with Scotch wars, French expeditions, and the strenuous and costly struggle to hold England in a worthy place among the States of Europe, there was sufficient bustle, bold achievement, and high ambition in the period to inspire a poet who was prepared to catch the spirit of the day. It was an age of elaborate courtesy, of high-paced gallantry, of courageous venture, of noble disdain for mean tranquillity; and Chaucer, on the whole a man of peaceful avocations, was penetrated to the depth of his consciousness with the lofty and lovely civil side of that brilliant and restless military period. No record of his youthful years, however, remains to us; if we believe that at the age of eighteen he was a student of Cambridge, it is only on the strength of a reference in his "Court of Love" (page 206), where the narrator is made to say that his name is Philogenet, "of Cambridge clerk;" while he had (page 201) already told us that when he was stirred to seek the Court of Cupid he was "at eighteen year of age." According to Leland, however, he was educated at Oxford, proceeding thence to France and the Netherlands, to finish his studies; but there remains no certain evidence of his having belonged to either University. At the same time, it is not doubted that his family was of good condition; and, whether or not we accept the assertion that his father held the rank of knighthood-rejecting the hypotheses that make him a merchant, or a vintner " at the corner ofKirton Lane "-it is plain, from Chaucer's whole career, that he had introductions to public life, and reconmmendations to courtly favour, wholly independent of his genius. We have the clearest testimony that his mental training was of wide range and thorough excellence, altogether rare for a mere courtier in those days: his poems attest his intimate acquaintance with the divinity, the philosophy, and the scholarship of his time, and show him to have had the sciences, as then developed and taught, "at his fingers' ends." Another proof of Chaucer's good birth and fortune would be found in the statement that, after his University career was completed, he entered the Inner Temple-the expenses of which could be borne only by men of noble and opulent families; but although LIFE OF GEOFFIREY CA UCER. * there is a story that he was once fined two shillings for thrashing a Franciscan friar in Fleet Street, we have no direct authority for believing that the poet devoted himself to the uncongenial study of the law. No special display of knowledge on that subject appears in his works; yet in the sketch of the Manciple, in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales (page 23), may be found indications of his familiarity with the internal economy of the Inns of Court; while numerous legal phrases and references hint that his comprehensive information was not at fault on legal matters. Leland says that he quitted the University" a ready logician, a smooth rhetorician, a pleasant poet, a grave philosopher, an ingenious mathematician, and a holy divine;" and by all accounts, when Geoffrey Chaucer comes before us authentically for the first time, at the age of thirty-one, he was possessed of knowledge and accomplishments far beyond the common standard of his day. Chaucer at this period possessed also other qualities fitted to recommend him to favour in a Court like that of Edward III. Urry describes him, on the authority of a portrait, as being then " of a fair beautiful complexion, his lips red and full, his size of a just medium, and his port and air graceful and majestic. So," continues the ardent biographer,-" so that every ornament that could claim the approbation of the great and fair, his abilities to record the valour of the one, and celebrate the beauty of the other, and his wit and gentle behaviour to converse with both, conspired to make him a complete courtier." If we believe that his "Court of Love" had received such publicity as the literary media of the time allowed in the somewhat narrow and select literary world-not to speak of " Troilus and Cressida," which, as Lydgate mentions it first among Chaucer's works, some have supposed to be a youthful production-we find a third and not less powerful recommendation to the favour of the great co-operating with his learning and his gallant bearing. Elsewhere (page 281) reasons have been shown for doubt whether "Troilus and Cressida " should not be assigned to a later period of Chaucer's life; but very little is positively known about the dates and sequence of his various works. In the year 1386, being called as witness with regard to a contest on a point of heraldry between Lord Scrope and Sir Robert Grosvenor, Chaucer deposed that he entered on his military career in 1359. In that year Edward III. invaded France, for the third time, in pursuit of his claim to the French crown; and we may fancy that, in describing the embarkation of the knights in "Chaucer's Dream" (pages 277-278), the poet gained some of the vividness and stir of his picture from his recollections of the embarkation of the splendid and well-appointed royal host at Sandwich, on board the eleven hundred transports provided for the enterprise. In this expedition the laurels of Poitiers were flung on the ground; after vainly attempting Rheims and Paris, Edward was constrained, by cruel weather and lack of provisions, to retreat toward his ships; the fury of the elements made the retreat more disastrous than an overthrow in pitched battle; horses and men perished by thousands, or fell into the hands of the pursuing French. Chaucer, who had been made prisoner at the siege of Retters, was among the captives in the possession of France when the treaty of Bretigny-the "great peace "-was concluded, in May, 1360. Returning to England, as we may suppose, at the peace, the poet, ere long, fell into another and a pleasanter captivity; for his marriage is generally believed to have taken place shortly after his release from foreign durance. He had already gained the personal friendship and favour of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the King's son; the Duke, while Earl of Richmond, had courted, and won to wife after a certain delay, Blanche, daughter and co-heiress of Henry Duke of Lancaster; and Chaucer is by some believed to have written "The Assembly of Fowls" to celebrate the wooing, as he wrote " Chaucer's Dream " to celebrate the wedding, of his patron. The marriage took place in 1359, the year of Chaucer's expedition to 6 LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. France; and as, in " The Assembly of Fowls," the formel or female eagle, who is supposed to represent the Lady Blanche, begs that her choice of a mate may be deferred for a year, 1358 and 1359 have been assigned as the respective dates of the two poems already mentioned. In the " Dream," Chaucer prominently introduces his own lady-love, to whom, after the happy union of his patron with the Lady Blanche, he is wedded amid great rejoicing; and various expressions in the same poem show that not only was the poet high in favour with the illustrious pair, but that his future wife had also peculiar claims on their regard. She was the younger daughter of Sir Payne Roet, a native of Hainault, who had, like many of his countrymen, been attracted to England by the example and patronage of Queen Philippa. The favourite attendant on the Lady Blanche was her elder sister Katherine: subsequently married to Sir Hugh Swynford, a gentleman of Lincolnshire; and destined, after the death of Blanche, to be in succession governess of her children, mistress of John of Gaunt, and lawfully-wedded Duchess of Lancaster. It is quite sufficient proof that Chaucer's position at Court was of no mean consequence, to find that his wife, the sister of the future Duchess of Lancaster, was one of the royal maids of honour, and even, as Sir Harris Nicolas conjectures, a goddaughter of the Queen-for her name also was Philippa. Between 1359, when the poet himself testifies that he was made prisoner while bearing arms in France, and September 1366, when Queen Philippa granted to her former maid of honour, by the name of Philippa Chaucer, a yearly pension of ten marks, or ~6, 13s. 4d., we have no authentic mention of Chaucer, express or indirect. It is plain from this grant that the poet's marriage with Sir Payne Roet's daughter was not celebrated later than 1366; the probability is, that it closely followed his return from the wars. In 1367, Edward III. settled upon Chaucer a life-pension of twenty marks, "for the good service which our beloved Valetdilectus Valettus noster-Geoffrey Chaucer has rendered, and will render in time to come." Camden explains Valettus hospitii to signify a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber; Selden says that the designation was bestowed "upon young heirs designed to be knighted, or young gentlemen of great descent and quality." Whatever the strict meaning of the word, it is plain that the poet's position was honourable and near to the King's person, and also that his worldly circumstances were easy, if not affluent-for it need not be said that twenty marks in those days represented twelve or twenty times the sum in these. It is believed that he found powerful patronage, not merely from the Duke of Lancaster and his wife, but from Margaret Countess of Pembroke, the King's daughter. To her Chaucer is supposed to have addressed the " Goodly Ballad" (page 289), in which the lady is celebrated under the image of the daisy; her he is by some understood to have represented under the title of Queen[Alcestis, in the " Court of Love" and the Prologue to "The Legend of Good Women;" and in her praise we may read his charming descriptions and eulogies of the daisy-French, "Marguerite," the name of his Royal patroness. To this period of Chaucer's career we may probably attribute the elegant and courtly, if somewhat conventional, poems of "The Flower and the Leaf," "The Cuckoo and the Nightingale," &c. "The Lady Margaret," says Urry, "... would frequently compliment him upon his poems. But this is not to be meant of his Canterbury Tales, they being written in the latter part of his life, when the courtier and the fine gentleman gave way to solid sense and plain descriptions. In his love-pieces he was obliged to have the strictest regard to modesty and decency; the ladies at that time insisting so much upon the nicest punctilios of honour, that it was highly criminal to depreciate their sex, or do anything that might offend virtue." Chaucer, in their estimation, had sinned against the dignity and honour of womankind by his translation of the French "Roman de la Rose," and by his LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 7 "Troilus and Cressida "-assuming it to have been among his less mature works; and to atone for those offences the Lady Margaret (though other and older accounts say that it was the first Queen of Richard II., Anne of Bohemia), prescribed to him the task of writing "The Legend of Good Women" (see introductory note, page 281). About this period, too, we may place the composition of Chaucer's A.B.C., or The Prayer of Our Lady (page 287), made at the request of the Duchess Blanche, a lady of great devoutness in her private life. She died in 1369; and Chaucer, as he had allegorised her wooing, celebrated her marriage, and aided her devotions, now lamented her death, in a poem entitled "The Book of the Duchess; or, the Death of Blanche.l In 1370, Chaucer was employed on the King's service abroad; and in November 1372, by the title of "Scutifer noster "-our Esquire or Shield-bearer-he was associated with "Jacobus Pronan," and "Johannes de Mari civis Januensis," in a royal commission, bestowing full powers to treat with the Duke of Genoa, his Council, and State. The object of the embassy was to negotiate upon the choice of an English port at which the Genoese might form a commercial establishment; and Chaucer, having quitted England in December, visited Genoa and Florence, and returned to England before the 22d of November 1373-for on that day he drew his pension from the Exchequer in person. The most interesting point connected with this Italian mission is the question, whether Chaucer visited Petrarch at Padua. That he did, is unhesitatingly affirmed by the old biographers; but the authentic notices of Chaucer during the years 1372-1373, as shown by the researches of Sir Harris Nicolas, are confined to the facts already stated; and we are left to answer the question by the probabilities of the case, and by the aid of what faint light the poet himself affords. We can scarcely fancy that Chaucer, visiting Italy for the first time, in a capacity which opened for him easy access to the great and the famous, did not embrace the chance of meeting a poet whose works he evidently knew in their native tongue, and highly esteemed. With Mr Wright, we are strongly disinclined to believe "that Chaucer did not profit by the opportunity... of improving his acquaintance with the poetry, if not the poets, of the country he thus visited, whose influence was now being felt on the literature of most countries of Western Europe." That Chaucer was familiar with the Italian language appears not merely from his repeated selection as Envoy to Italian States, but by many passages in his poetry, from " The Assembly of Fowls " to "The Canterbury Tales." In the opening of the first poem (as pointed out in note 37, page 217) there is a striking parallel to Dante's inscription on the gate of Hell. The first Song of Troilus, in " Troilus and Cressida" (page 250), is a nearly literal translation of Petrarch's 88th Sonnet. In the Prologue to "The Legend of Good Women" (see note 10, page 285), there is a reference to Dante which can hardly have reached the poet at secondhand. And in Chaucer's great work-as in The Wife of Bath's Tale (see note 22, page 81), and The Monk's Tale (see note 13, page 164)-direct reference by name is made to Dante, "the wise poet of Florence," "the great poet of Italy," as the source whence the author has quoted. When we consider the poet's high place in literature and at Court, which could not fail to make him free of the hospitalities of the brilliant little Lombard States; his familiarity with the tongue and the works i Called in the editions before 1597 " The Dream of Chaucer"-and inadvertently mentioned under that name in note 31, page 60. The poem, which is not included in the present edition, does indeed, like many of Chaucer's smaller works, tell the story of a dream, in which a knight, representing John of Gaunt, is found by the poet mourning the loss of his lady; but the true "Dream of Chaucer," in which he celebrates the marriage of his patron, was published for the first time by Speght in 1597. John of Gaunt, in the end of 1371, married his second wife, Constance, daughter to Pedro the Cruel of Spain; so that "The Book of the Duchess" must have been written between 1369 and 1371. 8 LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHA UCER. of Italy's greatest bards, dead and living; the reverential regard which he paid to the memory of great poets, of which we have examples in " The House of Fame," and at the close of " Troilus and Cressida"; along with his own testimony in the Prologue to The Clerk's Tale, we cannot fail to construe that testimony as a declaration that the Tale was actually told to Chaucer by the lips of Petrarch, in 1373, the very year in which Petrarch translated it into Latin, from Boccaccio's " Decameron." 2 Mr Bell notes the objection to this interpretation, that the words are put into the mouth, not of the poet, but of the Clerk; and meets it by the counterobjection, that the Clerk, being a purely imaginary personage, could not have learned the story at Padua from Petrarch-and therefore that Chaucer must have departed from the dramatic assumption maintained in the rest of the dialogue. Instances could be adduced from Chaucer's writings to show that such a sudden " departure from the dramatic assumption" would not be unexampled: witness the "aside" in The Wife of Bath's Prologue, where, after the jolly Dame has asserted that " half so boldly there can no man swear and lie as a woman can" (page 73), the poet hastens to interpose, in his own person, these two lines: "I say not this by wives that be wise, But if it be when they them misadvise." And again, in the Prologue to the " Legend of Good Women," from a description of the daisy — She is the clearness and the very light, That in this darke world me guides and leads," the poet, in the very next lines, slides into an address to his lady: "The heart within my sorrowful heart you dreads And loves so sore, that ye be, verily, The mistress of my wit, and nothing I," &c.3 When, therefore, the Clerk of Oxford is made to say that he will tell a tale"The which that I Learn'd at Padova of a worthy clerk, As proved by his word6s and his werk. He is now dead, and nailed in his chest, I pray to God to give his soul good rest. Francis Petrarc', the laureate po6te, Highte this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet Illumin'd all Itaile of poetry.... But forth to tellen of this worthy man, That taught6 me this tale, as I began."... we may without violent effort believe that Chaucer speaks in his own person, though dramatically the words are on the Clerk's lips. And the belief is not impaired by the sorrowful way in which the Clerk lingers on Petrarch's death-which would be less intelligible if the fictitious narrator had only read the story in the Latin translation, than if we suppose the news of Petrarch's death at Arqu& in July 1374 to have closely followed Chaucer to England, and to have cruelly and irresistibly mingled itself with our poet's personal recollections of his great Italian contemporary. Nor must we regard as without significance the manner in which the Clerk is made to distinguish between the " body " of Petrarch's tale, and the fashion in which it was set forth in writing, with a proem that seemed "a thing impertinent," save 1 Where (page 273) he bids his "little book" "Subject be unto all poesy, And kiss the steps, where as thou srest space, Of Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace." 2 See note 13, page 93. 3 See note 16, page 282. LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 9 that the poet had chosen in that way to "convey his matter "-told, or "taught," so much more directly and simply by word of mouth. It is impossible to pronounce positively on the subject; the question whether Chaucer saw Petrarch in 1373 must remain a moot-point, so long as we have only our present information; but fancy lovesto dwell on the thought of the two poets conversing under the vines at Arque; and we find in the history and the writings of Chaucer nothing to contradict, a good deal to countenance, the belief that such a meeting occurred. Though we have no express record, we have indirect testimony, that Chaucer's Genoese mission was discharged satisfactorily; for on the 23d of April 1374, Edward III. grants at Windsor to the poet, by the title of "our beloved squire"dilecto Armigero nostro-unum pycher. vini, "one pitcher of wine" daily, to be " perceived" in the port of London; a grant which, on the analogy of more modern usage, might be held equivalent to Chaucer's appointment as Poet Laureate. When we find that soon afterwards the grant was commuted for a money payment of twenty marks per annum, we need not conclude that Chaucer's circumstances were poor; for it may be easily supposed that the daily "perception" of such an article of income was attended with considerable prosaic inconvenience. A permanent provision for Chaucer was made on the 8th of June 1374, when he was appointed Controller of the Customs in the Port of London, for the lucrative imports of wools, skins or "wool-fells," and tanned hides-on condition that he should fulfil the duties of that office in person and not by deputy, and should write out the accounts with his own hand. We have what seems evidence of Chaucer's compliance with these terms in " The House of Fame" (page 235), where, by the mouth of the eagle, the poet describes himself, when he has finished his labour and made his reckonings, as not seeking rest and news in social intercourse, but going home to his own house, an f there, "all so dumb as any stone," sitting "at another book," until his look is dazed; and again, in the record that in 1376 he received a grant of ~71, 4s. 6d., the amount of a fine levied on one John Kent, whom Chaucer's vigilance had frustrated in the attempt to ship a quantity of wool for Dordrecht without paying the duty. The seemingly derogatory condition, that the Controller should write out the accounts or rolls (" rotulos") of his office with his own hand, appears to have been designed, or treated, as merely formal; no records in Chaucer's handwriting are known to exist-which could hardly be the case if, for the twelve years of his Controllership (1374-1386), he had duly complied with the condition; and during that period he was more than once employed abroad, so that the condition was evidently regarded as a formality even by those who had imposed it. Also in 1374, the Duke of Lancaster, whose ambitious views may well have made him anxious to retain the adhesion of a man so capable and accomplished as Chaucer, changed into a joint life-annuity remaining to the survivor, and charged on the revenues of the Savoy, a pension of ~10 which two years before he settled on the poet's wife whose sister was then the governess of the Duke's two daughters, Philippa and Elizabeth, and the Duke's own mistress. Another proof of Chaucer's personal reputation and high Court favour at this time, is his selection (1375) as ward to the son of Sir Edmond Staplegate of Bilsynton, in Kent; a charge on the surrender of Which the guardian received no less a sum than ~104. We find Chaucer in 1376 again employed on a foreign mission. In 1377, the last year of Edward III., he was sent to Flanders with Sir Thomas Percy, afterwards Earl of Worcester, for the purpose of obtaining a prolongation of the truce; and in January 1378, he was associated with Sir Guichard d'Angle and other Commissioners, to pursue certain negotiations for a marriage between Princess Mary of France and the young King Richard II., which had been set on foot before the death of Edward III. The negotiation, however, proved fruitless; and in May 1378, io LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. Chaucer was selected to accompany Sir John Berkeley on a mission to the Court of Bernardo Visconti, Duke of Milan, with the view, it is supposed, of concerting military plans against the outbreak of war with France. The new King, meantime, had shown that he was not insensible to Chaucer's merit-or to the influence of his tutor and the poet's patron, the Duke of Lancaster; for Richard II. confirmed to Chaucer his pension of twenty marks, along with an equal annual sum, for which the dailypitcher of wine granted in 1374 had been commuted. Before his departure for Lombardy, Chaucer-still holding his post in the Customs-selected two representatives or trustees, to protect his estate against legal proceedings in his absence, or to sue in his name defaulters and offenders against the imposts which he was charged to enforce. One of these trustees was called Richard Forrester; the other was John Gower, the poet, the most famous English contemporary of Chaucer, with whom he had for many years been on terms of admiring friendship-although, from the strictures passed on certain productions of Gower's in the Prologue to The Man of Law's Tale,' it has been supposed that in the later years of Chaucer's life the friendship suffered some diminution. To the "moral Gower" and "the philosophical Strode," Chaucer " directed" or dedicated his " Troilus and Cressida; " 2 while, in the " Confessio Amantis," Gower introduces a handsome compliment to his greater contemporary, as the "disciple and the poet" of Venus, with whose glad songs and ditties, made in her praise during the flowers of his youth, the land was filled everywhere. Gower, however-a monk and a Conservative-held to the party of the Duke of Gloucester, the rival of the Wycliffite and innovating Duke of Lancaster, who was Chaucer's patron, and whose cause was not a little aided by Chaucer's strictures on the clergy; and thus it is not impossible that political differences may have weakened the old bonds of personal friendship and poetic esteem. Returning from Lombardy early in 1379, Chaucer seems to have been again sent abroad; for the records exhibit no trace of him between May and December of that year. Whether by proxy or in person, however, he received his pensions regularly until 1382, when his income was increased by his appointment to the post of Controller of Petty Customs in the port of London. In November 1384, he obtained a month's leave of absence on account of his private affairs, and a deputy was appointed to fill his place; and in February of the next year he was permitted to appoint a permanent deputy-thus at length gaining relief from that close attention to business which probably curtailed the poetic fruits of the poet's most powerful years.3 1 See page 61, and note 9. 2 "Written," says Mr Wright, " in the sixteenth year of the reign of Richard II. (13921393);" a powerful confirmation of the opinion that this poem was really produced in Chaucer's mature age. See the introductory notes to it (page 248) and to the Legend of. Good Women (page 281). 3 The old biographers of Chaucer, founding on what they took to be autobiographic allusions in "The Testament of Love," assign to him between 1384 and 1389 a very different history from that here given on the strength of authentic records explored and quoted by Sir H. Nicolas. Chauceris made to espouse the cause of John of Northampton, the Wycliffite Lord Mayor of London, whose re-election in 1384 was so vehemently opposed by the clergy, and who was imprisoned in the sequel of the grave disorders that arose: The poet, it is said, fled to the Continent, taking with him a large sum of money, which he spent in supporting companions in exile; then, returning by stealth to England in quest of funds, he was detected and. sent to the Tower, where he languished for three years, being released only on the humiliating condition of informing against his associates in the plot. The public records show, however, that, all the time of his alleged exile and captivity, he was quietly living in London, regularly drawing his pensions in person, sitting in Parliament, and discharging his duties in the Customs until his dismissal in 1386. It need not be said, further, that although Chaucer freely handled the errors, the ignorance, and vices of the clergy, he did so rather as a man of sense and of conscience, than as a Wycliffite-and there is no evidence that he espoused the opinions .LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHA UCER, ii Chaucer is next found occupying a post which has not often been held by men gifted with his peculiar genius-that of a county member. The contest between the Dukes of Gloucester and Lancaster, and their adherents, for the control of the Government, was coming to a crisis; and when the recluse and studious Chaucer was induced to offer himself to the electors of Kent as one of the knights of their shire-where presumably he held property-we may suppose that it was with the view of supporting his patron's cause in the impending conflict. The Parliament in which the poet sat assembled at Westminster on the 1st of October, and was dissolved on the 1st of November, 1386. Lancaster was fighting and intriguing abroad, absorbed in the affairs of his Castilian succession; Gloucester and his friends at home had everything their own way; the Earl of Suffolk was dismissed from the woolsack, and impeached by the Commons; and although Richard at first stood out courageously for the friends of his uncle Lancaster, he was constrained, by the refusal of supplies, to consent to the proceedings of Gloucester. A commission was wrung from him, under protest, appointing Gloucester, Arundel, and twelve other Peers and prelates, a permanent council to inquire into the condition of all the public departments, the courts of law, and the royal household, with absolute powers of redress and dismissal. We need not ascribe to Chaucer's Parliamentary exertions in his patron's behalf, nor to any malpractices in his official conduct, the fact that he was among the earliest victims of the commission.' In December 1386, he was dismissed from both his offices in the port of London; but he retained his pensions, and drew them regularly twice a year at the Exchequer until 1388. In 1387, Chaucer's political reverses were aggravated by a severe domestic calamity: his wife died, and with her died the pension which had been settled on her by Queen Philippa in 1366, and confirmed to her at Richard's accession in 1377. The change made in Chaucer's pecuniary position, by the loss of his offices and his wife's pension, must have been very great. It would appear that during his prosperous times he had lived in a style quite equal to his income, and had no ample resources against a season of reverse; for, on the 1st of May 1388, less than a year and a half after being dismissed from the Customs, he was constrained to assign his pensions, by surrender in Chancery, to one John Scalby. In May 1389, Richard II., now of age, abruptly resumed the reins of government, which, for more than two years, had been ably but cruelly managed by Gloucester. The friends of Lancaster were once more supreme in the royal councils, and Chaucer speedily profited by the change. On the 12th of July he was appointed Clerk of the King's Works at the Palace of Westminster, the Tower, the royal manors of Kennington, Eltham, Clarendon, Sheen, Byfleet, Childern Langley, and Feckenham, the castle of Berkhamstead, the royal lodge of Hathenburgh in the New Forest, the lodges in the parks of Clarendon, Childern Langley, and Feckenham, and the mews for the King's falcons at Charing Cross; he received a salary of two shillings per day, and was allowed to perform the duties by deputy. For of the zealous Reformer, far less played the part of an extreme and self-regardless partisan of his old friend and college-companion. 1 "The Commissioners appear to have commenced their labours with examining the accounts of the officers employed in the collection of the revenue; and the sequel affords a strong presumption that the royal administration [under Lancaster and his friends] had been foully calumniated. We hear not of any frauds discovered, or of defaulters punished, or of grievances redressed." Such is the testimony of Lingard (chap. iv., 1386), all the more valuable for his aversion from the Wycliffite leanings of John of Gaunt. Chaucer's department in the London Customs was in those days one of the most important and lucrative in the kingdom; and if mercenary abuse of his post could' have been proved, we may be sure that his and his patron's enemies would not have been content with simple dismissal, but would have heavily amerced or imprisoned him. 12 LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. some reason unknown, Chaucer held this lucrative officel little more than two years, quitting it before the 16th of September 1391, at which date it had passed into the hands of one John Gedney. The next two years and a half are a blank, so far as authentic records are concerned; Chaucer is supposed to have passed them in retirement, probably devoting them principally to the composition of The Canterbury Tales. In February 1394, the King conferred upon him a grant of ~20 a year for life; but he seems to have had no other source of income, and to have become embarrassed by debt, for frequent memoranda of small advances on his pension show that his circumstances were, in comparison, greatly reduced. Things appear to have grown worse and worse with the poet; for in May 1398 he was compelled to obtain from the King letters of protection against arrest, extending over a term of two years. Not for the first time, it is true-for similar documents had been issued at the beginning of Richard's reign; but at that time Chaucer's missions abroad, and his responsible duties in the port of London, may have furnished reasons for securing him against annoyance or frivolous prosecution, which were wholly wanting at the later date. In 1398, fortune began again to smile upon him; he received a royal grant of a tun of wine annually, the value being about ~4. Next year, Richard II. having been deposed by the son of John of Gaunt 2-Henry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster-the new King, four days after his accession, bestowed on Chaucer a grant of forty marks (~26,13s. 4d.) per annum, in addition to the pension of ~20 conferred by Richard II. in 1394. But the poet, now seventy-one years of age, and probably broken down by the reverses of the past few years, was not destined long to enjoy his renewed prosperity. On Christmas Eve of 1399, he entered on the possession of a house in the garden of the Chapel of the Blessed Mary of Westminster-near to the present site of Henry VII.'s Chapel-having obtained a lease from Robert Hermodesworth, a monk of the adjacent convent, for fifty-three years, at the annual rent of four marks (~2, 13s. 4d.) Until the 1st of March 1400, Chaucer drew his pensions in person; then they were received for him by another hand; and on the 25th of October, in the same year, he died, at the age of seventy-two. The only lights thrown by his poems on his closing days are furnished in the little ballad called " Good Counsel of Chaucer," 3-which, though said to have been written when "upon his death-bed lying in his great anguish," breathes the very spirit of courage, resignation, and philosophic calm; and by the " Retractation " at the end of The Canterbury Tales,4 which, if it was not foisted in by monkish transcribers, may be supposed the effect of Chaucer's regrets and self-reproaches on that solemn review of his life-work which the close approach of death compelled. The poet was buried in Westminster Abbey; 5 and not many years after his death a slab was 1 The salary was ~36, 10s. per annum; the salary of the Chief Judges was ~40, of the Puisne Judges about ~27. Probably the Judges-certainly the Clerk of the Works-had fees or perquisites besides the stated payment. 2 Chaucer's patron had died earlier in 1399, during the exile of his son (then Duke of Hereford) in France. The Duchess Constance had died in 1394; and the Duke had made reparation to Katherine Swynford-who had already borne him four children-by marfying her in 1396, with the approval of Richard II., who legitimated the children, and made the eldest son of the poet's sister-in-law Earl of Somerset. From this long-illicit union sprang the house of Beaufort-that being the surname of the Duke's children by Katherine, after the name of the castle in Anjou (Belfort, or Beaufort) where they were born. 3 Page 291. 4 Page 199, and note 4. 5 Of Chaucer's two sons by Philippa Roet, his only wife, the younger, Lewis, for whom he wrote the Treatise on the Astrolabe, died young. The elder, Thomas, married Maud, the second daughter and co-heiress of Sir John Burghersh, brother of the Bishop of Lincoln, the Chancellor and Treasurer of England. By this marriage Thomas Chaucer acquired great estates in Oxfordshire and elsewhere; and he figured prominently in the second rank of courtiers for many years. He was Chief Butler to Richard II.; under Henry IV. he was Constable of Wallingford Castle, Steward of the Honours of Wallingford and St Valery, and of iheu LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. I3 placed on a pillar near his grave, bearing the lines, taken from an epitaph or eulogy made by Stephanus Surigonus of Milan, at the request of Caxton: "Galfridus Chaucer, vates, etfamapoesis Maternce, hdc sacrd sum tumulatus humo." About 1555, Mr Nicholas Brigham, a gentleman of Oxford who greatly admired the genius of Chaucer, erected the present tomb, as near to the spot where the poet lay, " before the chapel of St Benet," as was then possible by reason of the" cancelli," which the Duke of Buckingham subsequently obtained leave to remove; that room might be made for the tomb of Dryden. On the structure of Mr Brigham, besides a full-length representation of Chaucer, taken from a portrait drawn by his "scholar" Thomas Occleve, was-or is, though now almost illegible-the following inscription: M. S. QUI FUIT ANGLORUM VATES TER MAXIMUS OLIM, GALFRIDUS CHAUCER CONDITUR HOC TUMULO; ANNUM SI QUARAS DOMINI, SI TEMPORA VITXE, ECCE NOTE SUBSUNT, QUE TIBI CUNCTA NOTANT. 25 OCTOBRIS 1400. JERUMNARUM REQUIES MORS. N. BRIGHAM HOS FECIT MUSARUM NOMINE SUMPTUS 1556. Concerning his personal appearance and habits, Chaucer has not been reticent in his poetry. Urry sums up the traits of his aspect and character fairly thus: "He was of a middle stature, the latter part of his life inclinable to be fat and corpulent, as appears by the Host's bantering him in the journey to Canterbury, and comparing shapes with him.l His face was fleshy, his features just and regular, his complexion fair, and somewhat pale, his hair of a dusky yellow, short and thin; the hair of his beard in two forked tufts, of a wheat colour; his forehead broad and smooth; his eyes inclining usually to the ground, which is intimated by the Host's words; his whole face full of liveliness, a calm, easy sweetness, and a studious venerable aspect.... As to his temper, he had a mixture of the gay, the modest, and the grave. The sprightliness of his humour was more distinguished by his writings than by his appearance; which gave occasion to Margaret Countess of Pembroke often to rally him upon his silent modesty in company, telling him, that his absence was more agreeable to her than his conversation, since the first was productive of agreeable pieces of wit in his writings,2 but the latter was filled with a modest deference, and a too distant respect. We see nothing merry or jocose in his behaviour with his pilgrims, but a silent attention to their mirth, rather than any mixture of his own.... When disengaged from public affairs, his time was entirely spent in study and reading; so agreeable to him was this exercise, that he Chiltern Hundreds; and] the queen of Henry IV. granted him the farm of several of her manors, a grant subsequently confirmed to him for life by the King, after the Queen's death. He sat in Parliament repeatedly for Oxfordshire, was Speaker in 1414, and in the same year went to France as commissioner to negotiate the marriage of Henry V. with the Princess Katherine. He held, before he died in 1434, various other posts of trust and distinction; but he left no heirs-male. His only child, Alice Chaucer, married twice; first Sir John Philip; and afterwards the Duke of Suffolk-attainted and beheaded in 1450. She had three children by the Duke; and her eldest son married the Princess Elizabeth, sister of Edward IV, The eldest son of this marriage, created Earl of Lincoln, was declared by Richard III. heirapparent to the throne, in case the Prince of Wales should die without issue; but the death of Lincoln himself, at the battle of Stoke in 1487, destroyed all prospect that the poet's descendants might succeed to the crown of England; and his family is now believed to be extinct. 1 See the Prologue to Chaucer's Tale of Sir Thopas, page 146. 2 See the " Goodlv Ballad of Chaucer," seventh stanza, page 290. 14 LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. says he preferred it to all other sports and diversions.l He lived within himself, neither desirous to hear nor busy to concern himself with the affairs of his neighbours. His course of living was temperate and regular; he went to rest with the sun, and rose before it; and by that means enjoyed the pleasures of the better part of the day, his morning walk and fresh contemplations. This gave him the advantage of describing the morning in so lively a manner as he does everywhere in his works. The springing sun glows warm in his lines, and the fragrant air blows cool in his descriptions; we smell the sweets of the bloomy haws, and hear the music of the feathered choir, whenever we take a forest walk with him. The hour of the day is not easier to be discovered from the reflection of the sun in Titian's paintings, than in Chaucer's morning landscapes.... His reading was deep and extensive, his judgment sound and discerning.... In one word, he was a great scholar, a pleasant wit, a candid critic, a sociable companion, a steadfast friend, a grave philosopher, a temperate economist, and a pious Christian." Chaucer's most important poems are " Troilus and Cressida," " The Romaunt of the Rose," and " The Canterbury Tales." Of the first, containing 8246 lines, an abridgment, with a prose connecting outline of the story, is given in this volumepages 247-274. With the second, consisting of 7699 octosyllabic verses, like those in which "The House of Fame " is written, it was found impossible to deal in the present edition. The poem is a curtailed translation from the French " Roman de la Rose "-commenced by Guillaume de Lorris, who died in 1260, after contributing 4070 verses, and completed, in the last quarter of the thirteenth century, by Jean de Meun, who added some 18,000 verses. It is a satirical allegory, in which the vices of courts, the corruptions of the clergy, the disorders and inequalities of society in general, are unsparingly attacked, and the most revolutionary doctrines are advanced; and though, in making his translation, Chaucer softened or eliminated much of the satire of the poem, still it remained, in his verse, a caustic exposure of the abuses of the time, especially those which discredited the Church. The Canterbury Tales are presented in this edition with as near an approach to completeness as regard for the popular character of the volume permitted. The 17,385 verses, of which the poetical Tales consist, have been given without abridgment or purgation-save in a single couplet; but, the main purpose of the volume being to make the general reader acquainted with the " poems" of Chaucer and Spenser, the Editor has ventured to contract the two prose Tales-Chaucer's Tale of Melibceus, and the Parson's Sermon or Treatise on Penitence-so as to save about thirty pages for the introduction of Chaucer's minor pieces. At the same time, by giving prose outlines of the omitted parts, it has been sought to guard the reader against the fear that he was losing anything essential, or even valuable. It is almost needless to describe the plot, or point out the literary place, of the Canterbury Tales. Perhaps in the entire range of ancient and modern literature there is no work that so clearly and freshly paints for future times the picture of the past; certainly no Englishman has ever approached Chaucer in the power of fixing for ever the fleeting traits of his own time. The plan of the poem had been adopted before Chaucer chose it; notably in the " Decameron " of Boccaccio-although, there, the circumstances under which the tales were told, with the terror of the plague hanging over the merry company, lend a grim grotesqueness to the narrative, unless we can look at it abstracted from its setting. Chaucer, on the other hand, strikes a perpetual key-note of gaiety whenever he mentions the word " pilgrimage;" and at 1 See the opening of the Prologue to "The Legend of Good Women," page 282; and the poet's account of his habits in " The House of Fame," page 235. LIFE OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. 15 every stage of the connecting story we bless the happy thought which gives us incessant incident, movement, variety, and unclouded but never monotonous joyousness. The poet, the evening before he starts on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St Thomas at Canterbury, lies at the Tabard Inn, in Southwark, curious to know in what companionship he is destined to fare forward on the morrow. Chance sends him " nine and twenty in a company," representing all orders of English society, lay and clerical, from the Knight and the Abbot down to the Ploughman and the Sompnour. The jolly Host of the Tabard, after supper, when tongues are loosened and hearts are opened, declares that " not this year" has he seen such a company at once under his rooftree, and proposes that, when they set out next morning, he should ride with them and make them sport. All agree, and Harry Bailly unfolds his scheme: each pilgrim, including the poet, shall tell two tales on the road to Canterbury, and two on the way back to London; and he whom the general voice pronounces to have told the best tale, shall be treated to a supper at the common cost-and, of course, to mine Host's profit-when the cavalcade returns from the saint's shrine to the Southwark hostelry. All joyously assent; and early on the morrow, in the gay spring sunshine, they ride forth, listening to the heroic tale of the brave and gentle Knight, who has been gracefully chosen by the Host to lead the'spirited competition of story-telling. To describe thus the nature of the plan, and to say that when Chaucer conceived, or at least began to execute it, he was between sixty and seventy years of age, is to proclaim that The Canterbury Tales could never be more than a fragment. Thirty pilgrims, each telling two tales on the way out, and two more on the way back-that makes 120 tales; to say nothing of the prologue, the description of the journey, the occurences at Canterbury, "and all the remnant of their pilgrimage," which Chaucer also undertook. No more than twenty-three of the 120 stories are told in the work as it comes down to us; that is, only twenty-three of the thirty pilgrims tell the first of th6 two stories on the road to Canterbury; while of the stories on the return journey we have not one, and nothing is said about the doings of the pilgrims at Canterbury-which would, if treated like the scene at the Tabard, have given us a still livelier "picture of the period." But the plan was too large; and although the poet had some reserves, in stories which he had already composed in an independents form, death cut short his labour ere he could even complete the arrangement and connection of more than a very few of the Tales. Incomplete as it is, however, the magnum opus of Chaucer was in his own time received with immense favour;' manuscript copies are numerous even now-no slight proof of its popularity; and when the invention of printing was introduced into England by William Caxton, The Canterbury Tales issued from his press in the year after the first English-printed book, " The Game of the Chesse," had been struck off. Innumerable editions have since been published; and it may fairly be affirmed, that few books have been so much in favour with the reading public of every generation as this book, which the lapse of every generation has been rendering more unreadable. Apart from "The Romaunt of the Rose," no really important poetical work of Chaucer's is omitted from or unrepresented in the present edition. Of "The Legend of Good Women," the Prologue only is given-but it is the most genuinely Chaucerian part of the poem. Of " The Court of Love," three-fourths are here presented; of "The Assembly of Fowls," "The Cuckoo and the Nightingale," "The Flower and the Leaf," all; of " Chaucer's Dream," one-fourth; of " The House of Fame," two-thirds; and of the minor poems such a selection as may give an idea of Chaucer's power in the "occasional" department of verse. Necessarily, no space whatever could be given to Chaucer's prose works-his translation of Boethius' Treatise 16 LIFE OF GEOFFRE Y CHA UCER. on the Consolation of Philosophy; his Treatise on the Astrolabe, written for the use of his son Lewis; and hin*L Testament of Love," composed in his later years, and reflecting the troubles that then beset the poet. If, after studying in a simplified form the salient works of England's first great bard, the reader is tempted to regret that he was not introduced to a wider acquaintance with the author, the purpose of the Editor will have been more than attained. The plan of the volume does not demand an elaborate examination into the state of our language when Chaucer wrote, or the nice questions of grammatical and metrical structure which conspire with the obsolete orthography to make his poems a sealed book for the masses. The most important element in the proper reading of Chaucer's verses-whether written in the decasyllabic or heroic metre, which he introduced into our literature, or in the octosyllabic measure used with such animated effect in "The House of Fame," "Chaucer's Dream," &c. —is the sounding of the terminal " e" where it is now silent. That letter is still valid in French poetry; and Chaucer's lines can be scanned only by reading them as we would read Racine's or Molidre's. The terminal " e " played an important part in grammar; in many cases it was the sign of the infinitive-the "n" being dropped from the end; at other times it pointed the distinction between singular and plural, between adjective and adverb. The pages that follow, however, being prepared from the modern English point of view, necessarily no account is taken of those distinctions; and the now silent "e" has been retained in the text of Chaucer only when required by the modern spelling, or by the exigencies of metre. In the latter case, which occurs in almost every line, the Editor has followed the plan adopted in Mr Nimmo's Library Edition of The Canterbury Tales, by marking with the sign of diseresis (as " e") the terminal mute "e" that should be sounded; for example, in these five lines from the opening of The Canterbury Tales:A Whgn Ze I ph.rus I eke with } his swbo I t' I breath, Ynspi l r.d hath I in eve I ry h5lt I lnd heath The ten I der crop I pes, and I thh youn f ge sun HPth in j th6 Ram I his hal I f8 course [ -run, And smal 1 f6wv I ls ma I ke me J l1dy." Before a word beginning with a vowel, or with the letter " h," the final " e " was almost without exception mute; and in suchvcases, in the plural forms and infinitives of verbs, the terminal "n" is generally retained for the sake of euphony. The only other mark employed in this edition is the acute accent, used to show where the accentuation of Chaucer's time differed from that of ours-as in the words "Nattire," " courage," " creattire," "mann6re" (manner), " science," &c.; and to signify that the termination of such words as "nati6n," "salvati6n," " opini6n," should be pronounced as a dissyllable. No reader who is acquainted with the French language will find it hard to fall into Chaucer's accentuation; while, for such as are not, a simple perusal of the text according to the rules of modern verse, with attention to the nowise formidable accentual marks, should remove every difficulty. THE POEMS OF GEOFFREY CHAUCER. THE CANTERBURY TALES. THE PROLOGUE. Of sundry folk, by aventure y-fall In fellowship,9 and. pilgrims were they all, WWHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swoot,l That toward Canterbury wouldi ride. (The drought of March hath pierced to the root, The chambers and the stables were wide, And bathed every vein in such lic6ur, And well we weren eased. at the best.l0 Of which virtfie engender'd is the flower; And shortly, when the qunne was to rest, When Zephyrus eke with his sw6ote breath So had I spoken with them every one, Inspired hath in every holt Wand-heath That I was of their fellowship anon, The tender croppe,,3 and the,youngE sun And made forword 1 early for to rise, Hath in theRam4his halfe~course y-run, To take our way there as I you devise.2 And smalle fowles make melody,, But natheless, while I have time and space, That sleepen all the night with open eye, Ere that I farther in this tale pace, (So pricketh them nature in their corages 5); Me thinketh it accordant to reason, Then long.folk to go on pilgrimages, To tell you alle the condition And almers for to seeke strageS strands, Of each of them, so as it seemed me, To fene hallows couth in sundry lands; And which they weren, and of what degree; And specially, from every shire's end And eke in what array that they were in: Of 4ngleland, to Canterbury they wend, And at a Knight theh will I first begin. The holy blissful Martyr for to seek, A NIGHT there was, and that aworthy mai, - That them" hath holpen, when that they vet That from the time that he first-bega' sick. To riden out, he loved chivalry, Befell that, in that season on a day,.Truth and hoinofr, freedom and courtesy. In Southwark at the Tabard 8 as I lay, Full worthy was he in his Lord's war, Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage And thereto had he ridden, no man farre,' To Canterbury with devout corige, As well in Christendom as in Heatheness, At night was come into.that hostelry And ever honour'd for his worthiness. Well nine and twenty in a company At Alisandre 14 he was when it was won. 1 Sweet. 2 Grove, forest. 3 Twigs, boughs. All-Hallows-All-Saints'-Day. "Couth," pastpartici4 Tyryhitt points out that " the Bull" should be read pie of "conne" to know, exists in " uncouth." here, not "the Ram," which would place the time of 8 The Tabard-the sign of the inn-was a sleeveless the pilgrimage in the end of March; whereas, in the coat, worn by heralds. The name of the inn was some Prologue to the Man of Law's Tale, the, date is given as three centuries after Chaucer, changed to the Talbot. the "eight and twenty day Of April, that is messenger 9 Who had by chance fallen into company. I to May." " y-fall,"? " y" i a corruption of the Anglo-Saxon "'ge" 5 Hearts, inclinations. prefixed to participles of verbs; it is used lbyChaucer 6 Dante, in the "Vita Nuova," distinguishes three, merely to help the metre. In German,'y-fail," or classes of pilgrims: palmieri, palmers, who go beyond* "y-gfallewould be "g y-run," or "y-ronsea to the East, and often bring back staves of palm- ne, would be "geronnen." wood; peregrini, who go to the shrine of St Jago in o And we were well accommodated with the best. Galicia; Romei, who go to Rome. Sir Walter Scott, 11 Foreword, covenant, promise. however, says that palmers were in the habit ofpassing 12 Describe, relate. 13 Farther. from shrine to shrine, living on chaity; pilgrims, on 14 Alexandria, in Egypt, captured by Pierre de Lu. the other hand, made the journey to any shrine only signan, king of Cyprus, in 1365, but abandoned immeonce, and immediately returned to their ordinary avo- diately afterwards. Thirteen years before, the same cations. Chaucer uses "palmer" of all pilgrims. prince had taken Satalie, the ancient Attalia, in Ana7 To distant saints known, renowned, in sundry lands. tolia; and in 1367, he won Layas, in Armbnia, both "Hallows' survives, in the meaning here given, in places named ju~t below. B 18 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Full often time he had the board begun So hot he loved, that by nightertale 12 Aboven alle nati6ns in Prusse.e He slept no more than doth the nightingale. In Lettowe had he reysed,2 and in Russe, Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable, No Christian man so oft of his degree. And carv'd before his father at the taie. 13 In Grenade at the siege eke had he be Of Algesir,3 and ridden in Belmarie.3 A YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo' At Leyes was he, and at Satalie, At that time, for him list ride so;14 When they were won; and in the Greate Sea 3 And he was clad in coat and hood of green. At many a noble army had he be. A sheaf of peacock arrows 15 bright and keen At mortal battles had he been fifteen5 Under his belt he bare full thriftily. And foughten lor oui faith at Tramisseib a Well coild he dregs his tackle yeoinadil: In listes thries, and aye slain his foe. His arrows drooped not with feathers low; This ilke 4 worthy knight had been also And in his hand he bare a mighty bow. Some time with the lord of Palatie,3 A nut-head16 had he, with a brown visage: Against another heathen in Turkie: Of wood-craft coud 17 he well all the usage: And evermore he had a sovereign price.5 Upon his arm he bare a gay bracer,18 And though that he was worthy he was wise, And by his side a sword and a buckler, And of his port as mesk as s i maid. And oin that.bther side a gay daggere, He never yet no villainy.6 ne said Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spear: In all his life, unto no manner wight, A Christopher 19 on his breast of silver sheen. He was a very perfect gentle knight. An horn he bare, the baldric was of green: But for to telle you of his array, A forster20 was he soothly 2 as I guess. His horse was good, but yet he was not gay. Of fustian he weared a gipon, There was also a Nun, a PRIORESS, Alle besmotter'd with his habergeoiin, That of her smiling was full simple and coy; For he was late y-come from his voyage, Her greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;22 And wente for to do his pilgrimage. And she was cleped23 Madame Eglentine. Full well she sang the service divine, With him there was his son, a young6 SQUIRE, Entuned in her nose full seemely;24 A lover, and a lusty bacheler, And French she spake full fair and fetisly 5 With lockds crudle 8 as they were laid in press. After the school of Stratford att Bow, Of twenty year of age he was I guess. For French of Paris was to her unknow. Of his statire he was of even length, At meate was she well y-taught withai; And wonderly deliver,9 and great of strength. She let no morsel from her lipped fall, And he had been some time in chevachie,'0 Nor wet her fingers in her saute deep. In Flanders, in Arois, and Picardie, Well could she carry a motsel, and well And borne him well, as of so little space,r keep, In hope to standen in his lady's grace. That no droppe ne fell upon her breast. Embroider'd was he, as it were a mead In courtesy was set full much her lest. 26 All full of freshe flowers, white and red. Her over-lipp8 wiped she so clean, Singing he was, or fluting all the day; That in her cup there was no farthing 27 seen He was as fresh as is the month of May. Of grease, when she drunken had her draught; Short was his gown, with sleeves long and wide. Full seemely after her meat she raught; 2 Well could he sit on horse, and faire ride. And sickerly she was of great disport,19 He couldd songes make, and well indite, And full pleasant, and amiable of port, Joust, andekedance, andwellpourtray andwrite. And pained her to counterfeits cheer I Been placed at the head of the table, above 7 He wore a short doublet, all soiled by the contact knights of all nations, in Prussia, whither warriors from of his coat of mail. all countries were wont to repair, to aid the Teutonic 8 Curled. 9 Wonderfully nimble. Order in their continual conflicts with their heathen 1o Engaged in cavalry expeditions or raids into the neighbours in "Lettowe" or Lithuania (German, enemy's country. "Litthauen"), Russia, &c. 11 Considering the short time he had had. 2 Journeyed, ridden, made campaigns; German, 12 Night-time. "reisen," to travel 13 It was the custom for Squires of the highest degree 3 Algesiras, taken from the Moorish king of Grenada, to carve at their fathers' tables. in 1344: the Earls of Derby and Salisbury took part 1. For it pleased him so to ride. in the siege. Belmarie is supposed to have been a 15 Large arrows, With; peacocks' feathers. Moorish state in Africa; but "Palmyrie" has been sug- 16 With nut-brown hair; or, round like a nut, the gestedasthe correct reading. The Great Sea, orperhaps hair being cut short. 17 Knew. the Greek sea, is the Eastern Mediterranean. Tra- 18 Shield for an archer's arm, still called a "bracer," iiissene, or Tremessen, is enumerated by Froissart from the French "bras," arm. among the Moorish kingdoms in Africa. Palatie, or 19 A figure of St Christopher, used as a brooch, and Palathia, in Anatolia, was'a fief held by the Christian supposed to possess'the power of charming away knights after the Turkish conquests-the holders pay- danger. ing tribute to the infidel. Our knight had fought with 20 Forester. 21 Certainly, 22 St Eligius, or Eloy. one of those lords against a heathen neighbour. 23 Called. 24 Ini seemly fashion, 4 Ilke, same; compare the Scottish phrase "of that 25 Properly; Chaucer sneers at the debased AnglO. ilk,"-that is, of the estate which bears the same name Norman then taught as French in England. as its owner's title. 26 Pleasure. 27 Not the least specg 5 He was held in very high esteem. 28 Reached out her hand, 6 Nothing unbecoming a gentleman. 29 Assuredly she was of a lively dispositiow THE PROLOGUE. Of court, 1 and be estately of mnihiere, Therefore he was a prickasour aright: 21 And to be holden digne 2 of reverence, Greyhpunds he.ad as swift as fowl of flight s But for to speaken of her conscince, Of pricking22 and of hunting for the hare She was so charitable and so pitotis, 3 Was all his lust,23 for no cost would he spare. She woulde weep if that she saw a mouse I saw his sleeves purfil'd at the hand Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled. With gris,24 and that the finest of the land. Of smalle houndes had she, that she fed And for to bf[ lis hood under his chin4, With roasted flesh, an i an milk anwastel bread.4 He had of gold y-wrought a cu: fd ~- But sore she wept if one of them were dead, A love-knot in the greater en d' te was. Or if men smote it with a yarde 5 smart His head was bald, and shone as any glass, And all was conscience and tender hearts And eke his face, as it had been anoint-; Full seemly her wimple y-pinched was He was a lord full fat and in good point; A" t1ie Her nose tretis; 6 her; eyen gray as glass 7 His eyen step25 and rolling in his head, \ Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red; That steamed as a furnace of a lead. But sickerly she had a fair forehead. His bootes supple, his horse in great estate, It was almost a spanne broad I trow; Now certainly he was a fair prelate; For hardily she was not undergrow.8 He was not pale as a forpined 26 ghost; Full fetis 9 was her cloak, as I was ware. A fat swan lov'd he best of any roast. Of small coral about her arm she bare His palfrey was as brown as is a berry. A pair of beades, gauded all with green 10 - And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen, A FRnAR there was, a wanton and a nerry, On which was first y-written a crown'd A, A liatur, a full solemne man. And after, Amor vincit omnia. In all the orders four is none that can 28 Another NUN also with her had she, So much of alliance and fair language, [That was her chapell6ine, and PSIESTES three.] He had y-made full many a marriage Of you women, at h owen.t. H. A MONK there was, fair for the inast'ry," to his or was a noble post An out-rider, that loved venery;? Full well belov'd, and familiar was he A manly man, to be an abbot able. With franklins over all 29 in his country, Full many a dainty horse had he in stable: And Bke with worthy women of the town: And when he rode, men might his- bridle hear For he had power of confessi6n, Jingeling' in a whistling wind as clear, As said himselfd, more than a curate, And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell, For of his order he was li entiate. ^ t.< pi There as this lord was keeper of the cell. Full sweetely heard he confession, The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet,l4 And pleasant was his absolution. Because that it was old and somedeal15 strait, He was an easy man to give penince, This ilk6 16 monk let olde thinges pace, There as he wist to have a good pittnce: 30 And held after the newe world the trace. For unto a poor order for to give He gave not of the text a pulled hen,l7 Is signe that a man is well.-shrive..1 That saith, that hunters be not holy men; For if he gave, he durstm ake avan -,3 Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless He wiste that the man was repentant. Is like to a fish that is waterless; For many a man so hard is of his heart, J: S o This is to say, a monk out of his cloister. He may not weep although him sore smart. This ilke text held' he not worth an oyster Therefore instead of weeping and pray Sres, And I say his opinion wag good. Men must give silver to the poor6 frores. Why should he study, and make himseife His tippet was aye farsed 3 full of knives, wood,8 And pinnes, for to give'to faire wives; Upon a book in cloister always pore, And certainly he had a merry 4ote: Or swinkei 19 with his handes, and labofr, Well could he sing and playen on aot' e;3 As Austin bit? a2 how shall the world be served? Ofe y.dligs35 he bare utterly the prize. Let Austin have his swink to him reserved. His neck was white as is the fleur-de-lis.: I Took pains to assume a courtly air. 15 Somewhat. 16 Same. 2 Worthy; French, "digne." 17 He cared nothing for the text. 3 Piteous; full of pity. 4 Bread of finest flour. 18 Mad; Scottish, "wud." Felix says to Paul, "Too 5 Staff, rod. 6 Well-formed, much learning hath made thee mad." 7 Gray eyes appear to have been a mark of female 19 Toil hard. beauty in Chaucer's time. 20 As the rules of St Augustine prescribe. 8SCertainly she was not of low stature. 9 Neat. 21 A right hard rider. 22 Riding. 23 Pleasure. 10 Astringofbeadshavingthedrops, orgaudies, green. 24 Worked at the edge with a fur called "gris," or ll Fair above all others; "for the mystery" was gray. 25 Deep-set. 26 Wasted, applied to medicines in the sense of "sovereign," as 27 A friar with licence or privilege to beg, or exerwe now apply it to a remedy. cise other functions, within.a certain district: as "the 12 A bold rider, fond of hunting-a proclivity of the limitour of Holderness." 28 Knows, understands. monks in those days, that occasioned much complaint 29 Everywhere; German, " ueberall." and satire. 30 Where he knew that a liberal dole would be given 13 It was fashionable to hang bells on horses' bridles, him. 14 St Benedict was the first founder of a spiritual 31 Has well made confession. 32 Vaunt, boast. order in the Roman Church. Maurus, Abbot of Fulda,33 Stuffed. 34 By rote; from memory. from 822 to 842, did much to re-establish the discipline 35 A kind of song; from the Saxon "geWddian," to of the Benedictines on a true Christian basis, sing. 20 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Thereto he strong was as a champion, That unto logic hadde long y-go.l9 And knew well the taverns in every town. As leane was his horse as is a rake, And every hosteler and gay tapstere, And he was not right fat, I undertake; Better than azar I or a begglre, But looked hollow,20 and thereto soberly.21 For unto such a w-1thy man as he Full threadbare was his pvereslcoutepy Accordeth not, as by his faculty, For he had gotten him yeFnobenefice, To have with such lazars acquaintance. Ne was not worldly, to have an office. It is not honest, it may not advance, For him was lever 23 have at his bed's head As for to deale with no such purXaille,2 Twenty bookes, clothed in black or red, But all with rich, and sellers of vitalSH, Of Aristotle, and his philosophy, And ov'r all there ah 3 profit should aAse, Than robes rich, or fiddle, or psalt'ry. Courteous he was, and lowly of service; But all be that he was a philos6pher, There n'as no man nowhere 4 so virtuous. Yet hadde he but little gold in coffer, He was the beste beggar in all his house: But all that he might of his friendes hent,24 And gave a certain farme 5 for the grant, On bookes and on learning he it spent, None of his bretheren came in his haunt. And busily gan for the soules pray For though a widow hadde but one shoe, Of them that gave him wherewith to scholay.25 - So pleasant was his In principio 6 Of study took he mostd care and heed. Yet would he have' ig ereV n; Not one word spake he more than was need; His purchase was well better than his rent. And that was said in form and reverence, And rage he could and play as any whelp, And short and quick, and full of high sentence..R;_ Zth.e.could he muchel help.8 Sounding in moral virtue was his speech,, -r1 F or there was he not like a cloisterer, And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach. "'/-~i./ >. > With threadbare ope, as is a poor scholer,!" / - But he way like ^^.er or a pope. A SERGEANT OF THE LAW, wary and wise, But he wa~ like a roranpope. iJ toi M Of double worsteddwahis semicop,9 That often had y-been at the Parvis,2 That rounded was as a otbell;Fpress. There was also, full rich of excellence. Somewhat he lisped for his wantonness, Discreet he was, and of great reverence: To make his English sweet upon his tongue; He seemed such, his wordis were so wise, And in his harping, when that he had sung, Justice he was full often inasize His eyen twinkled in his head aright,By patent, and by plein commission; As do the starres in a frosty niigh ^ ^ For his science, and for his high renown, This worthy limitour was call'd Huberd. Of fees and robes had he many one. So great a purchaser was nowhere none. A MERCHANT was there with a forked beard, All was fee simple to him, in effect In mot, and high on his horse he sat, His purchasing might not be in suspect.28 Upon his head a Flandrish beaver hat. Nowhere so busy t man as he there was, His bootes clasped fair and fetisly.lO And yet he seemed busier than he was. His reasons aye spake he full solemnly, In termes had he case' and doomes 29 all SouiMSgal lway th' increase of his winning. That from the time of King Will. were fall. He would the sea were kept 11 for any thing Thereto he could indite, and make a thing, Betwixte Middleburg and Oraw*S;3~~-2 There coulde no wight pinch at his writing.30 Well could he in exchange shieldes3 sell. And every statute coud 3 he plain by rote. This worthy man full well h1si"wit1beset; 14 He rode but homely in a medley 32 coat, There wiste no wight that he was in debt, Girt with a seint 33 of silk, with barres small; l - So estatel- wasT o-f governance 15 Of his array tell I no longer tale.. With his bargains, and w- his chevisance.l6 For sooth he was a worthy man witha, FANKELIN 34 was in this company But sooth to say, I n'ot 17 how men him call. White was his beard, as is the daisy. Of his complexi6n he was sanguine. A CLERK there was of Oxenford 18 also, Well lov'd he in the morn a sop in wine. 1 A leper. 13 Crowns, so called from the shields stamped on 2 Offal, refuse; from the French "pourrir," to rot. them; French, " ecu;" Italian, "scudo." 3 In every place where. 14 Employed. 4 Was nowhere any man. 15 In such a dignified way did he manage. 5 Rent; that is, he paid a premium for his licence 16 Merchandising; conduct of trade; agreement to to beg. borrow money. 17 Know not; wot not. 18 Oxford. 6 -The first words of Genesis and John, employed in 19 Had long gone, devoted himself. 20 Thin. some part of the mass. 21 Poorly. 22 His uppermost short cloak. 7 At meetings appointed for friendly settlement of 23 Liefer; rather. 24 Obtain. differences; the business was often followed by sports 25 To study, attend school; poor scholars at the and feasting. universities used then to go about begging for money 8 He was of much service. 9 Half or short cloak. to maintain them at their studies. io Neatly. 26 The portico of St Pauls, which lawyers frequented 11 He would for anything that the sea were guarded. to meet their clients. -"The old subsidy of tonnage and poundage," says 27 Full. 28 In suspicion. 29 Judgments. Tyrwhitt, " was given to the king'pour la saufgarde 30 Pick a flaw in what he wrote. 31 Knew. et custodie del mer,"' for the safeguard and keeping 32 Mixed in colour; French, "meler " to mix. of the sea (12 E. IV., c. 3). 33 Cincture, sash, girdle; usually ornamented with 12 Middleburg, at the mouth of the Scheldt, in Hol- bars orstripes. land; Orwell, a seaport in Essex. 34 A large freeholder; a country gentleman. THE PROLOGUE. 21 —. To liven in delight was ever his won,1 He couldei roast, and seethe, and broil, and fry, For he was Epicurus' owen son, Make mortrewes,24 and well bake a pie. That held opinion, that plein 2 delight But great harm was it, as it thoughti me, Was verily felicity perfite. That on his shin a mormal25 hadde he. An householder, and that a great, was he; For blanc manger,26 that made he with the best. Saint Julian 3 he was in his country. His bread, his ale, was alway after one; 4 A SHIPMAN was there, wonned-far by West:27 A better envined 5 man was nowhere none; For ought I wot, he was of Dartemouth. Withouten bake-meat never was his house, He rode upon a rouncy, as he couth,28 Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous, All in a gown of falding 29 to the knee. It snowed in his house of meat and drink, A dagger hanging by a lace had he Of alle dainties that men coulde think. About his neck under his arm adown; After the sundry seasons of the year, The hot summer had made his hue all brown; So changed he his meat and his soup6re. And certainly he was a good fellfw. Full many a fat partridge had he in mew,6 Full many a draught of wine he had y-draw And many a bream, and many a luce in stew.7 From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen Woe was his cook, but if 8 his sauce were sleep; Poignant and sharp, and ready all his gear. Of nice conscience took he no keep. His table dormant 9 in his hall alway If that he fought, and had the higher hand, Stood ready cover'd all the longe day. By water he sent them home to every land. At sessions there was he lord and sire. But of his craft to reckon well his tides, Full often time he was knight of the shire. His streames and his strandes him besides, An anlace, and a gipciere 10 all of silk, His herberow,30 his moon, and lodemanage,31 Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk. There wasnone such, from Hull unto Carthage. A sheriff had he been, and a countour.ll Hardyhe was, and wise, I undertake: Was nowhere such a worthy vavasour.12 With many a tempest had his beard been shake. He knew well all the havens, as they were, An HABERDASHER, and a CARPENTER, From Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre, A WEBBE,13 a DYER, and a TAPISER,14 And every creek in Bretagne and in Spain: Were with us eke, cloth'd in one livery, His barge-y-cleped was the Magdelain. Of a solemn and great fraternity. Full fresh and new their gear y-picked 15 was. With us there was a DOCTOR OF PHYSIC; Their knives were y-chaped16 not with brass, In all this worldi was there none him like But all with silver wrought full clean and well, To speak of physic, and of surgery: Their girdles and their pouches every deal.7 For he was grounded in astronomy. Well seemed each of them a fair burgess, He kept his pati6nt a full great deal To sitten in a guild-hall, on the dais.l In houres by his magic natural. Evereach, for the wisdom that he can,19 Well could he fortune 32 the scendent Was shapely 20 for to be an alderman. Of his images for his patient. For chattels hadde they enough and rent, He knew the cause of every malady, And eke their wives would it well assent: Were it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry, And elles certain they had been to blame. And where engender'd, and of what humour. It is full fair to be y-clep'd madame, Hewas a very perfect practisour. And for to go to vigils all before, The cause y-know,33 and of his harm the root, And have a mantle royally y-bore.2L Amcn he gave to the sick man his boot.24 Full ready had he his apothecaries, A COOK they hadde with them for the nones,22 To send his drugg8s and his lectuaries, To boil the chickens and the marrow bones, For each of them made other for to win: And powder merchant tart and galingale.23 Their friendship was not newe to begin. Well could he'mowara qto on ndon ale. Well knew he the old Esculapius, 1 Wont, custom. 2 Full. rity, rank, or honour; in our days the worthy crafts3 The patron saint of hospitality, celebrated for men might have been described as "good platform supplying his votaries with good lodging and good men." 19 Knew. 20 Fitted. cheer.' 4 Constantly being pressed on one. 21 To take precedence over all in going to the evening 5 Stored with wine. service of the Church, or to festival meetings, to which 6 In cage; the place behind Whitehall, where the it was the fashion to carry rich cloaks or mantles king's hawks were encaged, was called the Mews. against the home-coming. 7 Many a pike in his fish-pond; in those Catholic 22 The nonce, occasion. days, when much fish was eaten, no gentleman's man- 23 "Poudre marchand tart," some now unknown sion was complete without a " stew." ingredient used in cookery; "galingale," sweet or 8 Unless. 9 Fixed, always ready. long-rooted cyprus. i0 A dagger and a purse. 24 A rich soup made by stamping flesh in a mortar. 11 Probably a steward or accountant in the county 25 Gangrene, ulcer. court. 26 Not what is now known by the name; one part of 12 A landholder of consequence; holding of a duke, it was the brawn of a capon. marquis, or earl, and ranking below a baron. 27 A seaman who dwelt far to the West. 13 Weaver; German, "Weber." 28 On a hack, as he could. 29 Coarse cloth. 14 Tapestry-maker; French, "tapissier." 30 Harbourage. 15 Spruce. 16 Mounted. 17 In every part. 31 Pilotage; from Anglo-Saxon "ladman;:-a leader, 18 On the raised platform at the end of the hall, guide, or pilot; hence "lodestar," "lodestone." where sat at meat or in judgment those high in autho- 32 Make fortunate. 33 Known. 34 Remedy. - ~ ~ ~~3 M ake fortnate 33Kon eey a2 THE CANTERBURY TALES. And Dioscorideq, and eke Rufus; He was also a learned man, a clerk, Old Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien; That Christe's gospel truly woulde preach. Serapion, Rasis, and Avicen; His parishens devoutly would he teach. Averrois, Damascene, and Constantin; Benign he was, and wonder diligent, Bernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertin.1 And in adversity full patient: Of his diet measurable was he, And such he was y-proved often sithes. 7 For it was of no superfluity, Full loth were him to curse for his tithes, But of great nourishing, and digestible. But rather would he given out of doubt, His study was but little on the Bible. Unto his poore parishens about, In sanguine and in perse 2 he clad was, all Of his off'ring, and eke of his substance. Lined with taffata, and with sendall.3 He could in little thing have suffisance.l' And yet he was but easy of dispence: Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder, He kept that he won in the pestilence.4 But he ne left not, for no rain nor thunder, For gold in physic is a cordial; In sickness and in mischief to visit Therefore he loved gold in special. The farthest in his arish, much and lit,19 Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff. A good WIFE was there OF beside BATH, This noble ensample to his sheep he gaf,20 But she was somedeal deaf, and that was scath.5 That first he wrought, and afterward he taught. Of cloth-making she haddi such an haunt,6 Out of the gospel he the wordis caught, She passed them of Ypres, and of Gaunt. And this figfire he added yet thereto, In all the parish wife was there none, That if gold ruste, what should iron do? That to the off'ring 7 before her should gon, For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust, And if there did, certain so wroth was she, No wonder is a levwed2_ man to rust: That she was out of alle charity.,And shame it is, if that a priest take keep, Her coverchiefs 8 were full fine of ground; To see a shitten shepherd and clean sheep,. fdurstd swear, they weighede ten pound Well ought a priest ensample for to give, That on the Sunday were upon her head. ^i By his own cleanness, how his sheep should live. iHer hosen weren of fine scarlet red, Sy " He sette not his benefice to hire, Full strait y-tied, and shoes full moiS and new. And left his sheep encumber'd in the mire, Bold was her fac.and fair anr-edof hue. And ran unto London, unto Saint Poul's, a-''She was aw yrthy woman all her live, To seeke him a chantery 22 for souls, Husbands at t church door had she hadfive, Or with a brotherhood to be withold: 23 Withouten other company inyouth; But dwelt at home, and kepte well his fold, But thereof needeth not to speak as nouth. 10 So that the wolf ne made it not miscarry. And thrice had she been at Jerusalem; He was a shepherd, and no mercenary. She hadde passed many a strang8e tream; s' And though he holy were, and virtuous, At' Rome she had been, and at Bologne,-l He was to sinful men not dispitous 4 In. Galice at Saint James,12 and at Cologne; Nor of his speeche dangerous nor dign,26 She coud 13 much of wand'ring by the way, But in his teaching discreet and benign. 9^t-totfh l'4 was she, soothly for to say. To drawen folk to heaven, with fairness,'` -" Upon an ambler easily she sat, By good ensample, was his business: Y-wimpled well, and on her head an hat But it were 26 any person obstinate, As broad as is a buckler or a targe. What so he were of high or low estate, A foot-mantle about her hippes large, Him would he snibbe 27 sharply for the nones.28 And on her feet a pair of spurres sharp. A better priest I trow that nowhere none is. In fellowship well could she laugh and carp.l He waited after no pomp nor reverence, Of remedies of love she knew perchance, Nor maked him a spiced conscience,29 For of that art she coudl3 the olde dance. But Christ'es lore, and his apostles' twelve, He taught, and first he follow'd it himselve. A good man there was of religi6n, That was a poorl PARSON of a town: With him there was a PLOUGHMAN, was his But rich he was of holy thought and werk: 16 brother, 1 The authors mentioned here were the chief medical " mustum " signifies new wine; and Chaucer elsewhere text-books of the middle ages. The names of Galen speaks of "moisty ale" as opposed to " old." and Hippocrates were then usually spelt "Gallien" 10 Now. 11 Bologna in Italy. and " Hypocras " or " Ypocras." 12 At the shrine of St Jago of Compostella in Spain. 2 In red and blue. 13 Knew. 3 A fine silk stuff. 14 Buck-toothed; goat-toothed, to signify her wanton4 He spent but moderately, keeping the money he ness; or gap-toothed-with gaps between her teeth. had made during the visitation of-the plague. 15 Jest, talk. 16 Work. 17 Oftentimes. 5 Damage; pity. 18 He was satisfied with very little. 6 Skill. The west of England, especially around 19 Great and small. 20 Gave. Bath, was the seat of the cloth-manufacture, as were 21 Unlearned. Ypres and Ghent in Flanders. 22 An endowment to sing masses for the soul of the 7 The offering at mass. donor. 23 Detained, 8 Head-dresses; Chaucer here satirises the fashion 24 Severe., -5 Disdainful. 26 But if it were. of the time, which piled bulky and heavy waddings on 27 Reprove; hence our modern c snub." ladies' heads. 28 Nonce, occasion. 9 Used in the sense of fresh or new; as in Latin, 29 Double or artificial conscience. THE PROLOGUE. That had y-laid of dung full many a fother.l Worthy to be stewards of rent and land A true swinker2 and a good was he, Of any lord that is in Engleland, Living in peace and perfect charity. To make him live by his proper good, God loved he beste with all his heart In honour debtless, but if he were woo, 20 At alle times, were it gain or smart,3 Or live as scarcely as him list desire; And then his neighebour right as himselve. And able for to helpen all a Shire He woulde thresh, and thereto dike,4 and delve, In any case that mighte fall or hap; For Christe's sake, for every poord wight, And yet this Manciple set their aller cap.2 Withouten hire, if it lay in his might. His tithes payed he full fair and wells The REEVE 22 was a slender choleriq man, Both of his proper ~wink, and his chattel.5 His beard was shav'd as nigh as ever he cap. In a tabard 6 he rode upon a mere. His hair was by his eares round y-shorn; There was also a Reeve, and a iillere, His top was docked like a priest beforn. A Sompnour, and a Pardoner also, Full longe were his legges, and full lean A Manciple, and myself, there were no mo'. Y-like a staff, there was no calf y-seen. ^ ["' Well could he keep a garner and a bin: 23 The MILLER was a stout carle for the nones, There was no auditor24 could on him win. Full big he was of brawn, and eke of bones; Well wist he by the drought, and by the rain, That proved well, for ov'r all where 7 he came, The yielding of his seed and of his grain. At wrestling he would bear away the ram.8 His lorde's sheep, his nea,2 an l's dairy. He was short-shouldered, broad, a thicke His swine, his horse, his or his poultry, gnarr,9 Were wholly in this Reeve's pgqernipg, There was no door, that he n'old heave off bar, And by his cov'nant gave he reckpning, Or break it at a running with his head. Since that, his lord was twenty year of age; His beard as any sow or fox was red, There could no man bring him in arrearage. And thereto broad, as though it were a spade. There was no bailiff, herd, nor other hie,26 Upon the cop'0 right of his nose he had That he ne knew his sleight and his covine:2 A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs They were adrad 28 of him, as of the death. Red as the bristles of a sowe's ears. His wonning29 was full fair upon an heath, His nose-thirles 1 blacke were and wide. With greene trees y-shadow'd was his place. A sword and buckler bare he by his side. He coulde better than his lord purchase.; His mouth as wide was as a furnace. Full rich he was y-stored privily. He was a jangler, and a goliardais,l2 His lord well could he please subtilly, And that was most of sin and harlotries. To give and lend him of his owen good, Well could he steale corn, and tolle thrice. And have a thank, and yet30 a,coa a d hood. And yet he had a thumb of gold, pardie.l3 In youth he learned had a good rpist re..!,A white coat and a blue hood weared he. He was a well good wright, ar peont re. A baggepipe well could he blow and soun', This Reeve sate upon a right goodst9qt, And therewithal he brought us out of town. That was all pomely 33 gray, and highte 3 Scot. A long surcoat of perse 35 upon he had, A gentle MANCIPLE 4 was there of a temple, And by his side he bare a rusty blade. Of which achatours 5 mighte take ensample Of Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell, For to be wise in buying of vitaille. Beside a town men clepen Baldeswell. For whether that he paid, or took by taile,6 Tucked he was, as is a friar, about, Algate17 he waited so in his achate,l8 And ever rode the hinderest of the rout.6 That he was aye before in good estate. Now is not that of God a full fair grace A SOMPNOUR37 was there with us in that place, That such a telm S e8's wit shall pacel9 That had a fire-red cherubinnes face, The wisdom of an heap of learned men? For sausefleme 38 he was, with eyen narrow Of masters had he more than thries ten, As hot he was and lecherops as a sparrqw, That were of law expert and curious: With scalled browes black, and pilled 39 beard: Of which there was a dozen in that house, Of his visage children were sore afeard. 1 Properly a ton; generally, any large quantity. 15 Buyers; French; " acheteurs." 16 On trust. 2 Hard worker. 3 Pain, loss. 4 Ditch, dig. 17 Always. 18 Purchase. 19 i rpass. 5 Both of his own labour and his goods. 20 Unless he were nad. 6 Jacket without sleeves. 7 Wheresoever. 21 Outwitted, ima a fool of, themp all. 8 The usual prize at wrestling matches. 22 A land-stew; still called "greve ".-Ang 9 Stub or knot in a tree; it describes a thickset Saxon, "gerefa-in some arts of Scotlad. strong man. 10 Head; German, "Kopf." 23 A store-place for grain. 11 Nostrils; from the Anglo-Saxon, "thirliap," to 24 Examiner of accounts. 25 Catte. pierce; hence the word "drill," to bore. 26 Hdind, servant. 27 His tricks and cheating 12 A babbler and a buffoon; Golias was the founder 28 In dread. 29 Abode. 0 Also. of a jovial sect called by his name. 31 Mystery; trade, handicraft. 13 The proverb says that every honest miller has a 32 For "stod,' a stallion, or steBd., Dapple thumb of gold; probably Chaucer means that this one 34 Was called. #5 ple-gray, or ky-biSe. was as honest as his brethren. 36 The hindermost in the troop Or proee9qi^0,;'4A Manciple-Latin, manceps, a'purchaser or 37 Summoner,:apparitor, who cid dein ts to contractor —was an officer charged with the purchase appear in ecclesiastical c. q'' of victuais fo0rinns of court or colleges. 38 Red or pimply.' Scatny 24 THE CANTERBURY TALES. There n' as quicksilver, litharge, nor brimstone, For it was trussed up in his wallet. Boras, ceruse, nor oil of tartar none, Him thought he rode all of the newe get,l9 Nor ointiment that wouldi cleanse or bite, Dishevel, save his cap, he rode all bare. That him might helpen of his whelkes 1 white, Such glaring eyen had he, as an hare. Nor of the knobbs 2 sitting on his cheeks. A vernicle 20 had he sew'd upon his cap. Well lov'd he garlic, oni6ns, and leeks, His wallet lay before him in his lap, And for to drink strong wine as red as blood. Bretful 2 of pardon come from Rome all hot. Then would he speak, and cry as he were wood; A voice he had as small as hath a goat. And when that he well drunken had the wine, No beard had he, nor ever one should have. Then would he speake no word but Latin. As smooth it was as it were new y-shave; A fewe termis knew he, two or three, I trow he were a gelding or a mare. That he had learned out of some decree; But of his craft, from Berwick unto Ware, No wonder is, he heard it all the day. Ne was there such another pardonere. And eke ye knowen well, how that a jay For in his mail 22 he had a pillowbere,23 Can clepen3 "Wat," as well as can the Pope. Which, as he saide, was otir Lady's veil: But whoso would in other thing him grope,4 He said, he had a gobbet 24 of the sail Then had he spent all his philosophy, That Sainte Peter had, when that he went Aye, Questio quid juris," would he cry. Upon the sea, till Jesus Christ him hent.25 He was a gentle harlot 6 and a kind; He had a cross of latoun 2 full of stones, A better fellow should a man not find. And in a glass he hadde pigge's bones. He woulde suffer, for a quart of wine, But with these relics, whenne that he fond A good fell6w to have his concubine A poori parson dwelling upon lond, A twelvemonth, and excuse him at the full. Upon a day he got him more money Full privily a finch eke could he pull.7 Than that the parson got in moneths tway; And if he found owhere 8 a good fellaw, And thus with feigned flattering and japes,27 He woulde teache him to have none awe He made the parson and the people his apes. In such a case of the archdeacon's curse; But truely to tellen at the last, But if 9 a manne's soul were in his purse-; He was in church a noble ecclesiast. For in his purse he should y-punished be. Well could he read a lesson or a story, "Purse is the archideacon's hell," said he. But alderbest 28 he sang an offert6ry:29 But well I wot, he lied right indeed: For well he wiste, when that song was sung, Of cursing ought each guilty man to dread, He muste preach, and well afile his tongue,0 For curse will slay right as assoiling l saveth; To winne silver, as he right well could: And also'ware him of a significavit.l Therefore he sang full merrily and loud. In danger had he at his owen guise 12 The younge girles of the diocese, Now have I told you shortly in a clause And knew their counsel, and was of their rede.3 Th' estate, th' array, the number, and eke the A garland had he set upon his head, cause As great as it were for an alestake:14 Why that assembled was this company A buckler had he made him of a cake. In Southwark at this gentle hostelry, That highte the Tabard, fast by the Bell.3 With him there rode a gentle PARDONERE 15 But now is time to you for to tell Of Ronceval, his friend and his compere, How that we baren us that ilkB night,32 That straight was comen from the court of Rome. When we were in that hostelry alight. Full loud he sang, " Come hither, love, t6 me." And after will I tell of our voyage, This Sompnour bare to him a stiff burdoun,l1 And all the remnant of our pilgrimage. Was never trump of half so great a soun'. But first I pray you of your courtesy, This Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax, That ye arette it not my villainy,33 But smooth it hung, as doth a strike 7 of flax: Though that I plainly speak in this mattere. By ounces hung his lockis that he had, To tellen you their wordes and their cheer; And therewith he his shoulders oversprad. Not though I speak their wordes properly. Full thin it lay, by culpons 18 one and one, For this ye knowen all so well as I, But hood, for jollity, he weared none, Whoso shall tell a tale after a man, 1 Pustules, weals. 2 Buttons. 3 Call. 20 An image of Christ; so called from St Veronica, 4 Search. 5 A cant law-Latin phrase. who gave the Saviour a napkin to wipe the sweat from 6 A low, ribald fellow; the word was used of both His face as He bore the Cross, and received it back sexes; it comes from the Anglo-Saxon verb to hire. with an impression of His countenance upon it. 7 "Fleece" a man; "pluck a pigeon." 21 Brimful. 8 Anywhere. 9 Unless. 22 Packet, baggage; French, " malle," a trunk. 10 Absolving. 11 An ecclesiastical writ. 23 Pillow-case. 24 Piece. 25 Took hold of him. 12 Within hisjurisdiction had he at his own pleasure 26 Copper, latten. 27 Jests. the young people (of both sexes) in the diocese. 28 Alderbest, altherbest, allerbest-best of all. 13 Counsel. 29 An anthem sung while the congregation made the 14 The post of an alehouse sign; a May pole. offering. 15 A seller of pardons or indulgences. 30 Polish well his tongue; speak smoothly. 16 Sang the bass. 17 Streak, strip. 31 Apparently another. Southwark tavern; Stowe 18 Locks, shreds, little heaps. mentions a "Bull" as being near the Tabard. 19 The new gait, or fashion; "gait" is still used in 32 How we bore ourselves-what we did-that same this sense in some parts of the country night. 33 Account it not rudeness in me. THE PROLOGUE. 25 He must rehearse, as nigh as ever he can, But take it not, I pray you, in disdain; Every word, if it be in his charge, This is the point, to speak it plat 1 ahd plain. All speak he 1 ne'er so rudely and so large; That each of you, to shorten with your way Or elles he must tell his tale untrue, In this voyage, shall tellen tales tway, Or feigne things, or finde wordes new. To Canterbury-ward, I mean it so, He may not spare, although he were his brother; And homeward he shall tellen other two, He must as well say one word as another. Of aventures that whilom have befall. Christ spake Himself full broad in Holy Writ, And which of you that bear'th him best of all, And well ye wot no villainy is it. That is to say, that telleth in this case Eke Plato saith, whoso that can him read, Tales of best sentence and most solace, The wordis must be cousin to the deed. Shall have a supper at your aller cost 1 Also I pray you to forgive it me, Here in this place, sitting by this post, All have I 2 not set folk in their degree, When that ye come again from Canterbury. Here in this tale, as that they shoulden stand: And for to make you the more merry, My wit is short, ye may well understand. I will myselfe gladly with you ride, Right at mine owen cost, and be your guide. Great cheere made our Host us every one, And whoso will my judgement withsay, And to the supper set he us anon: Shall pay for all we spenden by the way. And served us with victual of the best.- And if ye vouchisafe that it be so, Strong was the wine, and well to drink us lest.3 Tell me anon withoute wordes mo', 17 A seemly man our Hoste was withal And I will early shape me therefore." For to have been amarshal in an hall. This thing was granted, and our oath we swore A largI man he was with eyen steep,4 With full glad heart, and prayed him also, A fairer burgess is there none in Cheap: 5 That he would vouchesafe for to do so, Bold of his speech, and wise and well y-taught, And that he woulde be our governour, And of manhoode lacked him right naught. And of our tales judge and reportour, Eke thereto was he right a merry man, And set a supper at a certain price; And after supper playen he began, And we will ruled be at his device, And spake of mirth amonges other things, In high and low: and thus by one assent, When that we hadde made our reckonings; We be accorded to his judgement. And saide thus; "Now, lordinges, truly And thereupon the wine was fet l anon. Ye be to me welcome right heartily: We drunken, and to reste went each one, For by my.troth, if that I shall not lie, Withouten any longer tarrying. I saw not this year such a company A-morrow, when the day began to spring, At once in this herberow,6 as is now. Up rose our host, and was our aller cock,l9 Fain would I do you mirth, an 7 I wist how. And gather'd us together in a flock, And of a mirth I am right now bethought, And forth we ridden all a little space, To do you ease,8 and it shall coste nought. Unto the watering of Saint Thomas: 20 Ye go to Canterbury; God you speed, And there our host began his horse arrest, The blissful Martyr quite you your meed; And saide; " Lordis, hearken if you lest. And well I wot, as ye go by the way, Ye weet your forword,21 and I it record. Ye shapen you 9 to talken and to play: If even-song and morning-song accord, For truely comf6rt nor mirth is none Let see now who shall telle the first tale. To ride by the way as dumb as stone: As ever may I drinke wine or ale, And therefore would I make you disport, Whoso is rebel to my judgement, As I said erst, and do you some comfort. Shall pay for all that by the way is spent. And if you liketh all10 by one assent Now draw ye cuts, ere that ye farther twin.22 Now for to standen at my judgement, He which thathath the shortest shall begin." And for to worken as I shall you say " Sir Knight (quoth he), my master and my To-morrow, when ye riden on the way, lord, Now by my father's soule that is dead, Now draw the cut, for that is mine accord. But ye be merry, smiteth off 1 mine head. Come near (quoth he), my Lady Prioress, Hold up your hands withoute mori speech." And ye, Sir Clerk, let be your shamefastness, Our counsel was not longe for to seech: 2 Nor study not: lay hand to, every man." Us thought it was not worth to make it wise,13 Anon to drawen every wight began, And granted him without8 more avise,l4 And shortly for to tellen as it was, And bade him say his verdict, as him lest. Were it by Aventure, or sort, or cas,2 "Lordings (quoth he), now hearken for the The sooth is this, the cut fell to the Knight, best; Of which full blithe and glad was every wight; 1 Let him speak. 2 Although I have. 13 To make it matter of deliberation; to weigh the 3 List, pleased. 4 Deep-set. proposal carefully. 14 Consideration. 15 Flat. 5 Cheapside, then inhabited by the richest and most 16 At the cost of you all. 17 More. 18 Fetched. prosperous citizens of London. 19 Was the cock to awaken us all. 6 Lodging, inn; German, "Herberge." 7 If. 20 At the second milestone on the old Canterbury gPleasure. 9 Prepare yourselves, intend. road. 21 Know your promise. l If it please you all. 22 Draw lots ere ye go farther. 11 If ye be not merry, smite off. 12 Seek. 23 Lot (Latin, " sors"), or chance (Latin, "casus"). 6.THE CANTERBURY TALES. And tell hp must his tale as was reas6n, This Duke, of whom I make mentioan, By forword, and by composition, When he was come almost unto the town, As ye have heard; what needeth wordes mo'? In all his weal 12 and in his most8 pride, And when this good man saw that it was so, He was ware, as he cast his eye aside, As he that wise was and obedient Where that there kneeled in the highe way To keep his forword by his free assent, A company of ladies, tway and tway, He said; " Sithen I shall begin this game, Each after other, clad in clothes black: Why, welcome be the cut in Godde's name. But such a cry and such a woe they make, Now let TS ride, and hearken what I say." That in this world n'is creatire living, And with that word we ridden forth our way; That hearde such another waimenting.3 And he began with right a merry cheer And of this crying would they never stenten,l4 His tale anon, and said as ye shall hear. Till they the reines of his bridle henten. 15 "What folk be ye that at mine homecoming Perturben so my feaste with crying?" Quoth Theseus; " Have ye so great envy THE'KNIOGHT'S TALE.2 Of mine honoir, that thus complain and cry? Or who hath you misboden,16 or offended? WHILOM,3 as olde stories tellen us, Do telle me, if it may be amended; There was a duke that highte 4 Theseus. And why that ye be clad thus all in black? " Of Athens he was lord and governor, The oldest lady of them all-then spake, And in his time such a conqueror When she had swooned, with a deadly cheer,17 That greater was there none under the sun. That it was ruthe18 for to see or hear. Full many a richl country had he won. She saide; " Lord, to whom fortfine hath given What with his wisdom and his chivalry, Vict'ry, and as a conqueror to liven, He conquered all the regne of Feminie,P Nought grieveth us your glory and your honodr; That whilom was y-cleped Scythia; But we beseechen mercy and succ6ur. And weddede the Queen Hippolyta, Have mercy on our woe and our distress; And brought her home with him to his country Some drop of pity, through thy gentleness, With muchel 6 glory and great solemnity, Upon us wretched women let now fall. And eke her youngi sister Emily, For certes, lord, there is none of us all And thus with vict'ry and with melody That hath not been a duchess or a queen; Let I this worthy Duke to Athens ride, Now be we caitives,L9 as it is well seen: And all his host, in armes him beside. Thanked be Fortune, and her false wheel, And certes, if it nere 7 too long to hear, That none estate ensureth to be wele.20 I would have told you fully the mann6re, And certes, lord, t' abiden your presence How wonnen 8 was the regne of Feminie, Here in this temple of the goddess Clemence By Theseus, and by his chivalry; We have been waiting all this fortenight: And of the greate battle for the nonce Now help us, lord, since it lies in thy might. Betwixt Athenes and the Amazons; "I, wretched wight, that weep and waile And how assieged was Hippolyta, thus, The fairW hardy queen of Scythia; Was whilom wife to king Capaneus, And of the feast that was at her wedding, That starf 21 at Thebes, cursed be that day: And of the tempest at her homecoming. And alle we that be in this array, But all these things I must as now forbear. And maken all this lamentatiofin, I have, God wot, a large field to ear; 9 We losten all our husbands at that town, And weake be the oxen in my plough; While that the siege thereabouten lay. The remnant of my tale is long enow. And yet the olde Creon, wellaway! I will not letten eke none of this rout.lo That lord is now of Thebes the city, Let every fellow tell his tale about, Fulfilled of ire and of iniquity, And let see now who shall the supper win. He for despite, and for his tyranny, There as I left," I will again begin. To do the deade bodies villainy,22 1 Since. 5 The " Royaume des Femmes ""-kingdom of the 2 or the plan and principal incidents of the Amazons. Gower, in the "Confessio Amantis," styles " Knight's Tale,7 Chaucer was indebted to Boccaccio, Penthesilea the " Queen of Feminie." who had himself borrowed from some prior poet, 6 Mickle, great. 7 If it were not. chronicler, or romancer. Boccaccio speaks of the 8 Won, conquered; German, "gewonnen." story as "very ancient;" and, though that may not 9 To plough; Latin, "arare." "I have abundant be proof of its antiquity, it certainly shows that he matterfor discourse." The first, and half of the second, tool it from an earlier writer. The': Tale " is more or of Boccaccios twelve books are disposed of in the few less a paraphrase of Boccaccio's "Theseida;" but in lines foregoing.:sro points the copy has a distinct dramatic superiority 10 Nor will I hinder any of this company. over the original. The "Theseida" contained ten 11 Where I left off. 12 Prosperity, wealth. thousand lines; Chaucer has condensed it into less 13 Bewailing, lamenting; German, " wehklagen." than one-fourth of the number. The " Knight's Tale" 14 Stint, cease, desist. 15 Seize. 16 Wronged. is supposed to have been at first composed as a sepa- 17 Aspect, countenance. 18 Pity. rate work; it is undetermined whether Chaucer took 19 Captives or slaves; hence it means generally in t direct from the Italian of Boccaccio, or from a wretched circumstances. French translation. 3 Once on a while; formerly. 20 That assures no continuance of prosperous estate. 4Was called; from the Anglo.Saxon,'"hatan," to 21 Died; German, "sterben," "strb." bid or call; German,' heissen," " heisst., 22 Outrage, insult. THE KNIGHTS TALE. 2 Of all our lordes, which that been y-slaw,1 Did to the ladies, when they from him went: Hath all the bodies on an heap y-draw, But shortly for to tell is mine intent. And will not suffer them by none assent When that this worthy Duke, this Theseus, Neither to be y-buried, nory-brent,2 Had Creon slain, and wonnen Theb6s thus, But maketh houndis eat them in despite." Still in the field he took all night his rest, And with that word, withoutB more respite And did with all the country as him lest.l8 They fallen groff,3 and cryden piteously; To ransack in the tas 19 of bodies dead, " Have on us wretched women some mercy, Them for to strip of harness and of weed,20 And let our sorrow sinken in thine heart." The pillers 21 did their business and cure, This gentle Duke down from his courser start After the battle and discomfiture. With hearte piteous, when he heard them speak. And so befell, that in the tas they found, Him thoughte that his heartwould all to-break, Through girt with many a grievous bloody When he saw them so piteous and so mate,4 wound, That whilom weren of so great estate. Two younge knightes ligging by End by 22 And in his armes he them all up hent,5 Both in one armes,23 wrought full riPhely: And them comforted in full good intent, Of whiche two, Arcita hight that pne, And swore his oath, as he was true knight, And he that other highte Palamon. He woulde do so farforthly his might 6 Not fully quick, nor fully dead they were, Upon the tyrant Creon them to wreak,7 But by their coat-armour, and by their gear, That all the people of Greece shoulde speak, The heralds knew them well in special, How Creon was of Theseus y-served, As those that weren of the blood roydl As he that had his death full welldeserved. Of Thebes, and of sistren two y-born24 And right anon withoute more abode 8 Out of the tas the pillers have them torn, His banner he display'd, and forth he rode And have them carried soft unto the tent To Thebes-ward, and all his host beside: Of Theseus, and he full soon them sent No ner9 Athenes.would hego nor ixie, To Athens, for to dwellen in pris6n or ake his ease fully half a day, Perpetually, he n'olde no ranson.25 But onward on his way that night he lay: And when this worthy Duke had thus y-done, And sent anon Hippolyta the queen, He took his host, and home he rit anon And Emily her younge sister sheen 10 With laurel crowned as a conquerour; Unto the town of Athens for to dwell: And there he lived in joy and in honour And forth he rit;; there is no more to tell. Term of his life; 26 what needeth wordes mo'? The red statue of Mars with spear and targe And in a tower, in anguish and in woe, So shineth in his white banner large, Dwellen this Palamon, and eke Arcite, That all the fieldes glitter up and down: For evermore, there may no gold them quite.27 And by his banner borne is his pennon Thus passed year by year, and day by day, Of gold full rich, in which there was y-beat 12 Till it fell ones in a morn of NXy The Minotaur 3 which that he slew in Crete. That Emily, that fairer was to seen Thus rit this Duke, thus rit this conquerour, Than is the lily upon his stalke green, And in his host of chivalry the flower, And fresher than the May with flowers new Till that he came to Thebes, and alight (For with the rose colour strove her hue; Fair in a field, there as he thought to fight. I n'ot 28 which was the finer of them two), But shortly for to speaken of this thing, Ere it was day, as she was wont to do, With Creon, which that was of Thebes king, She was arisen, and all ready dight,29 He fought, and slew him manly as a knight For May will have no sluggardy a-night; In plain bataille, and put his folk to flight: The season pricketh every gentle heart, And by assault he won the city after, And maketh him out of his sleep to start, And rent adown both wall, and spar, and rafter; And saith, " Arise, and do thine 6bservance." And to the ladies he restored again This maketh Emily have remembrance The bodies of their husbands that were slain, To do honoir to May, and for to rise, To do obsequies, as was then the guise.'4 Y-clothed waq she fresh for to devise; But it were all too long for to devise 5 Her yellow hair was braided in a tress, The greate clamour, and the waimenting, 16 Behind her back, a yarde long I guess. Which that the ladies made at the brenning 17 And in the garden at the sun uprist 30 0o f Of the bodies, and the great honour She walketh up and down where as her list. That Theseus the noble conqueror She gathereth flowers, party 31 white and red, 1 Slain. 2 Burnt. 14 Custom. 1iDescribe. 10 Lamenting. Flat on the ground'; grovelling on the earth. 17 Burning, 18 List, pleased. A Abased, dejected, consumed away. 19 Heap; French, i tas." A Raised, took. 20 Of armour and clothing. 6 As far as his power went; all that in him lay. 21 Pillagers, strippers; French, "pillegrs." 7 Avenge. 8 Delay. 22 Lying side by side. 9 "Ner" or "nerre," is used as the comparative of 23 Armour of the same fashion. f ner,"? near, instead of "nerer." "4 Born of two sisters. 1o Bright, lovely. 11 Rode. 12 Stamped. 25 He would take no ransom. 13 The monster, half-man and half-bull, which yearly 26 For the rest of his life. 27 Set free, devoured a tribute of fourteen Athenian youths and 28 Wot not, know not. 29 Decked, dressed. maidens, until it was slain by Theseus.' 30 Sunrise.'31 Mingled. ~28 S ~THE CANTERBURY TALES. To make a sotel garland for her head, By etern word to dien in pris6n, And as an angel heavenly she sung. Of our lineage have some compassi6n, The greate tower, that was so thick and strong, That is so low y-brought by tyranny." Which of the castle was the chief dunge6n 2 And with that word Arcita gan espy 12 (Where as these knightes weren in pris6n, Where as this lady roamed to and fro. Of which I tolde you, and telle shall), And with that sight her beauty hurt him so,.Was even joinant 3 to the garden wall, That if that Palamon was wounded sore, There as this Emily had her playing. Arcite is hurt as much as he, or more. Bright was the sun, and clearthat morrowhing, And with a sigh he saide piteously: And Palamon, this woful prisoner, ".The freshe beauty slay'th me suddenly As was his wont, by leave of his gaoler, Of her that roameth yonder in the place. Was ris'n, and roamed in a chamber on high, And but 13 I have her mercy and her grace, In which he all the noble city sigh,4 That I may see her at the leaste way, And eke the garden, full of branches green, I am but dead; there is no more to say." There as this fresh Emelia the sheen This Palamon, when he these wordes heard, Was in her walk, and roamed up and down. Dispiteously 14 he looked, and answ6r'd: This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon "Whether say'st thou this in earnest or in Went in his chamber roafning to and fro, play? " And to himself complaining of his woe: "Nay," quoth Arcite, " in earnest, by my fay.l5 That he was born, full oft he said, Alas! God help me so, me lust full ill to play." 1 And so befell, by &venture or cas,5 This Palamon gan knit his browes tway. That through a window thick of many a bar " It were," quoth he, " to thee no great hono6r Of iron great, and square as any spar, For to be false, nor for to be traitour He cast his eyes upon Emelia, To me, that am thy cousin and thy brother And therewithal he blent 6 and cried, Ah! Y-sworn full deep, and each of us to other, As though he stungen were unto the heart. That never for to dien in the pain,ll And with that cry Arcite anon up start, Till that the death departen shall us twain, And saide, " Cousin mine, what aileth thee, Neither of us in love to hinder other, That art so pale and deadly for to see? Nor in none other case, my leve 18 brother; Why cried'st thou? who hath thee done offence? But that thou shouldest truly farther me For Godde's love, take all in patience In every case, as I should farther thee. Our prison,7 for it may none other be. This was thine oath, and mine also certain; Fortune hath giv'n us this adversity. I wot it well, thou dar'st it not withsayn.l9 Some wick' 8 aspect or dispositi6n Thus art thou of my counsel out of doubt. Of Saturn, by some constellati6n, And now thou wouldest falsely be about Hath giv'n us this, although we had it sworn, To love my lady, whom I love and serve, So stood the heaven when that we were born, And ever shall, until mine hearte sterve.20 We must endure; this is the short and plain." Now certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not so. This Palamon answ6r'd, and said again: I lov'd her first, and tolde thee my woe "Cousin, forsooth of this opini6n As to my counsel, and my brother sworn Thou hast a vain imaginati6n. To farther me, as I have told beforn. This prison caused me not for to cry; For which thou/art y-bounden as a knight But I was hurt right now thorough mine eye To helpB me, if it lie in thy might, Into mine heart; that will my bani 9 be. Or elles art thou false, I dare well sayn." The fairness of the lady that I see This Arcita full proudly spake again: Yond in the garden roaming to and fro, "Thou shalt," quoth he, "be rather21 false Is cause of all my crying and my woe. than I, I n'ot whe'r 10 she be woman or goddess. And thou art false, I tell thee utterly; But Venus is it, soothly 1 as I guess." For par amour I lov'd her first ere thou. And therewithal on knees adown he fill, What wilt thou say? thou wist it not right And saide: "Venus, if it be your will now22 You in this garden thus to transfigure, Whether she be a woman or goddess. Before me sorrowful wretched creature, Thine is affecti6n of holiness, Out of this prison help that we may scape. And mine is love, as to a creatfire:'And if so be our destiny be shape For which I toldi thee mine &venture 1 Subtle, well-arranged. 16 I am in no humour for jesting. 2 The donjon was originally the central tower or 17 To die in the pain was a proverbial expression in "keep" of feudal castles; it was employed to detain the French, used as an alternative to enforce a resoluprisoners of importance. Hence the modern meaning tion or a promise. Edward III., according to Froissart, of the word dungeon. declared that he would either succeed in the war against 3 Adjoining. 4 Saw. 5 Chance. France or die in the pain-" Ou il nourroit en la 6 Stop, start aside. 7 Imprisonment. peine." It was the fashion in those times to swear 8 Wicked; Saturn, in the old astrology, was a most oaths of friendship and brotherhood; and hence, unpropitious star to be born under.' though the fashion has long died out, we still speak of 9 Ruin, destruction. 10 Know not whether. "sworn friends." 11 Assuredly, truly. 12 Began to look forth. 18 Loved, dear; German, " lieber." 13 Unless. 14 Despitefully, angrily. 19 Gainsay, deny. 20 Die. 21 Sooner. 15 By my faith; Spanish, "'fe; French, "foi." 22 Even now thou knowest not. THE KNIGHT'S TALE. 29 As to my cousin, and my brother sworn. In any country of this Theseus, I posi,l that thou loved'st her beforn: And he were caught, it was accorded thus, Wost 2 thou not well the olde clerki's saw,3 That with a sword he shoulde lose his head; That who shall give a lover any law? There was none other remedy nor rede.l2 Love is a greater lawe, by my pan,4 But took his leave, and homeward he him sped; Than may be giv'n to any earthly man: Let him beware, his necke lieth to wed.' Therefore positive law, and such decree, How great a sorrow suff'reth now Arcite! Is broke alway for love in each degree. The death he feeleth through his hearte smite; A man must needes love, maugr6 his head.5 He weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously; He may not flee it, though he should be dead, To slay himself he waiteth privily. All be she 6 maid, or widow, or else wife. He said; " Alas the day that I was born! And eke it is not likely all thy life Now is my prison worse than beforn: To standen in her grace, no more than I: Now is me shape 14 eternally to dwell For well thou wost thyselfe verily, Not in purgatory, but right in hell. That thou and I be damned to pris6n Alas! that ever I knew Perithous. Perpetual, us gaineth no ranson. For ellis had I dwelt with Theseus We strive, as did the houndes for the bone; Y-fettered in his prison evermo'. They fought all day, and yet their part was Then had I been in bliss, and not in woe. none. Only the sight of her, whom that I serve, There came a kite, while that they were so Though that I never may her grace deserve, wroth, Would have sufficed right enough for me. And bare away the bone betwixt them both. O deare cousin Palamon," quoth he, And therefore at the kinge's court, my brother, " Thine is the vict'ry of this &ventfre, Each man for himselfi, there is none other. Full blissfully in prison to endure: Love if thee list; for I love and aye shall: In prison? nay certes, in paradise. And soothly, leve brother, this is all. Well hath fortune y-turned thee the dice, Here in this prison musten we endure, That hast the sightof her, and I th' absence. And each of us take his aventhre." For possible is, since thou hast her presence, Great was the strife and long betwixt them And art a knight, a worthy and an able, tway, That by some cas,15 since fortune is changeable, If that I hadde leisure for to say; Thou may'st to thy desire sometime attain. But to the effect: it happen'd on a day But I that am exiled, and barren (To tell it you as shortly as I may), Of alll grace, and in so great despair, A worthy duke that hight Perithous, That there n'is earthe, water, fire, nor air, That fellow was to this Duke Theseus 7 Nor creature, that of them maked is, Since thilke 8 day that they were children lite,9 That may me helpe nor comfort in this, Was come to Athens, his fellow to visite, Well ought I sterve in wanhope 16 and distress. And for to play, as he was wont to do; Farewell my life, my lust,l7 and my gladn6ss. For in this world he loved no man so: Alas, why plainen men so in commfine And he lov'd him as tenderly again. Of purveyance of God,l8 or of Fortfne, So well they lov'd, as o]de bookes sayn, That giveth them full oft in many a guise That when that one was dead, soothly to tell, Well better than they can themselves devise? His fellow went and sought him down in hell: Some man desireth for to have richess, But of that story list me not to write. That cause is of his murder or great sickness. Duke Perithous loved well Arcite, And some man would out of his prison fain, And had him known at Thebes year by year: That in his house is of his meinie 19 slain. And finally at request and prayere Infinite harmes be in this mattere. Of Perithous, withouti rans6n * We wot never what thing we pray for here, Duke Theseus him let out of pris6n, We fare as he that drunk is as a mouse. Freely to go, where him list over all, A drunken man wot well he hath an house, In such a guise, as I you tellen shall. But he wot not which is the right way thither, This was the forword,l0 plainly to indite, And to a drunken man the way is slither.20 Betwixte Theseus and him Arcite: And certes in this world so fard we. That if so were, that Arcite were y-found We seeke fast after felicity, Ever in his life, by day or night, one stound 1 But we go wrong full often truely. 1 Suppose. 2 Know'st. rule applies in such words as " creature" and "con3 The saying of the old scholar-Boethius, in his trea- science," which are trisyllables. tise "De Consolatione Philosophiae," which Chaucer 8 That. 9 Little. 10 Covenant, promise. translated, and from which he has freely borrowed in 11 Moment, short space of time; from Anglo-Saxon, his poetry. The words are "stund;" akin to which is German, "Stunde," an " Quis legem det amantibus? hour. 1' Counsel. 13 In pledge, pawn. Major lex amor est sibi." 14 It is shaped, decreed, fixed for me. 4 Head. 5 In spite of his head. 15 Chance. 6 Whether the woman he loves be. 16 Die in despair; in want of hope. 17 Pleasure. 7 " Perithous " and " Theseus " must, for the metre, 18 Why do men so often complain of God's providence? be pronounced as words of four and three syllables 19 Household; menials, or servants, &c., dwelling respectively-the vowels at the end not being diph- together in a house; from an Anglo-Saxon word thongated, but enunciated separately, as if the words meaning a crowd. Compare German, "Menge," were printed "Perithios," "Theseus." Thl same multitude, 20 Or "slider," slippery. J-~-I- -~` 30 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Thus we may sayen all, and namely 1 I, Though in this worlds he have care and woe: That ween'd,2 and had a great opini6n, Withoute doubt it maye standen so. That if I might escapd from pris6n "The answer of this leave I to divines, Then had I been in joy and perfect heal, But well I wot, that in this world great pine 5 is; Where now I am exiled from my weal. Alas! I see a serpent or a thief, Since that I may not see you, lmily, That many a true man hath done mischief, I am but dead; there is no remedy." Go at his large, and where him list may turn. Upon that other side, Pdlamon, But I must be in prison through Saturn, "When that he wist Arcita was agone, And eke through Juno, jealous and eke wood,16 Such sorrow maketh, that the greatB tower That hath well nigh destroyed all the blood Resounded of his yelling and clamour. Of Thebes, with his waste wallis wide.! 3 /t 7' The pure fetters 3 on his shinnes great And Venus slay'th me on that other side Were of his bitter salts tearIs wet. For jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite." " Alas! " quoth he, " Arcita, cousin mine, Now will I stent 17 of Palamon a lite,18 Of all our strife, God,wot, the fruit is thine. And let him in his prison stille dwell, Thou walkest now in Thebes at thy large, And of Arcita forth I will you tell. And of my woe thou givest little charge.4 The summer passeth, and the nightes long Thou mayst, since thou host wisdom and man- Increase double-wise the painSs strong head,5 Both of the lover and the prison6re. Assemble all the folk of ottr kindred, I n'ot l which hath the wofuller mistere.20 And make a war so sharp on this country For, shortly for to say, this Palamon That by some fienture, or some treat., Perpetually is damned to pris6n, Thou mayst have her to lady and to wife, In chainis and in fetters to be dead,; For whom that I must needes lose my life. And Arcite is exiled on his head 21 For as by way of possibility, For evermore as out of that country, Since thou art at,thy large, of prison free, Nor never more he shall his lady see. And art a lord, great is thine fivaitage, You lovers ask I now this question,22 More than is mine, that sterve6 here in a cage. Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamon? For I must weep and wail, while that I live, The one may see his lady day by day, With all the woe that prison may me give, But in prison he dwelle,must alway. And eke with pain that love me gives also, The other where him list may ride or go, That doubles all my torment and my woe." But see his lady shall he never mo'. Therewith the fire of jealousy upstart Now deem all as you liste, ye that can, Within his breast, and hent him by the heart For I will tell you forth as I began. So woodly,7 that he like was to behold When that Arcite to Thebes comen was, The box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold. Full oft a day he swelt,23 and said, " Alas!" Then said " 0 cruel goddess, that govern For see his lady shall he never mo'. This world with binding of your word etern,8 And shortly to concluden all his woe, And writen in the table of adamant So much sorrow had never creatfire Your parlement 9 and your eternal grant, That is or shall be while the world may dure. What is inankind more unto you y-hold10 His sleep, his meat, his drink is him byraft,2 Than is the sheep, that rouketh 1 in the fold! That lean he wex,25 and dry as any shaft.26 For slain is man, right as another beast, His eyen hollow, grisly to behold, And dwelleth eke in prison and arrest, His hue fallow,27 and pale as ashes cold, And hath sickn6ss, and great adversity, And solitary he was, ever alone, And oftentimes guilteless, pardie.12 And wailing all the night, making his moan. What governance is in your presciencei And if he hearde song or instrument, That guilteless tormenteth innocence? Then would he weepen, he might not be stent.28 And yet increaseth this all my penance, So feeble were his spirits, and so low, That man is bounden to his observance And changed so, that no man coulde know For Goddi's sake to letten of his will,13 Hisspeech, neitherhisvoice, thoughmenitheard. Whereas a beast may all his lust 14 fulfil. And in his gear 29 for all the world he far'd And when a beast is dead, he hath no pain; Not only like the lovers' malady But man after his death must weep and plain, Of Eros, but rather y-like manie,30 1 Especially I; I for instance. 2 Thought, is probably made forty lines before, in the word "par3 The very fetters. The Greeks used KaOapos, the lement," or "parliament," questions like that here Romans " purus," in the same sense. proposed were seriously discussed. 4 Takest little heed. 5 Manhood, courage. 23 Fainted, died. 24 Bereft, taken away, from him. 6 Perish, die. 7 Seized so madly upon his heart. 25 Became, waxed. 8 Eternal. 9 Consultation. 26 Arrow. The phrase is equivalent to our "dry 10 More by you esteemed. as a bone." 1i Lie huddled together, sleep. 27 Yellow; old spelling "falwe," French "fauve," 12 Par Dieu-by God. tawny-coloured. Some editions have " sallow." 13 Restrain his desire. 14 Pleasure. 28 Stinted, stopped. 15 Pain, trouble; French, "peine." 16 Mad. 29 Behaviour, fashion, dress; but, by another read17 Stint, pause. 18 Little. 19 Know not. ing, the word is "gyre," and means fit, trance-from 20 Condition. 21 On peril of his head. the Latin, "gyro," I turn round. 2 In the mediaeval courts of love, to which allusion 30 Mania, madness. THIE KNIGHT'S TALE. 31 Engender'd of humofrs melancholic, But half so well belov'd a man as he Before his head in his cell fantastic.l Ne was there never in court of his degree. And shortly turned was all upside down, He was so gentle of conditionm, Both habit and eke dispositiofin, That throughout all the court was his renown, Of him, this woful lover Dan 2 Arcite. They saide that it were a charity Why should I all day of his woe indite? That Theseus would enhance his degreel15 When he endured had a year or two And put him in some worshipful service, This cruel torment, and this pain and woe, There as he might his virtue exercise. At Thebes, in his country, as I said, And thus within a while his name sprung Upon a night in sleep as he him laid, Both of his deedes, and of his good tongue, Him thought how that the winged god Metciry That Theseus hath taken him so near, Before him stood, and bade him to be merry. That of his chamber he hath made him squire, His sleepy yard 3 in hand he bare upright; And gave him gold to maintain his degree; A hat he wore upon his haires bright; And eke men brought him out of his country Arrayed was this god (as he took keep) 4 From year to year full privily his rent, As he was when that Argus 5 took his sleep; But honestly and slyly16 he it spent, And said him thus: " To Athens shalt thou That no man wonder'd how that he it had. wend;6 And three year in this wise his life he lad,17 There is thee shapen7 of thy woe an end." And bare him so in peace and. eke in werrej, And with that word Arcite woke and start. There was no man that Theseus had so derre.19 "Now truely how sore that e'er me smart" And in this blisse leave I now Arcite, Quoth he, " to Athens right now will I fare. And speak I will of Palamon a lite,20 Nor for no dread of death shall I not spare In darkness horrible, and strong pris6n, To see my lady that I love and serve, This seven year hath sitten Palamon, In her presence I recke not to sterve."8 Forpined,2' what for love, and for distress, And with that word he caught a great mirror, Who feeleth double sorrow and heaviness And saw that changed was all his col6r, But Palamon? that love distraineth22 so, And saw his visage all in other kind, That wood23 out of his wits he went for woe, And right anon it ran him in his mind, And eke theteto he is a prisonere That since his face was so disfigur'd Perpetual, not only for a year. Of malady the which he had endir'd, Who couldB rhyme in English properly He mighte well, if that he bare him low,9 His martyrdom? forsooth, it am not I;24 /' C Live in Athenes evermore unknow, Therefore I pass as lightly as I may. And see his lady wellnigh day by day. It fell that in the seventh year, in May And right anon he changed his array, The thirdB night (as oldi bookes sayn, And clad him as a poore labourer. That all this story tellen more plain), And all alone, save only a squi6r, Were it by aventure or destiny That knew his privity l and all his cas,1 (As, when a thing is shapen25 it shall be), Which was disguised poorly as he was, That, soon after the midnight, Palamon To Athens is he gone the next 12 way. By helping of a friend brake his pris6n, And to the court he went upon a day, And fled the city fast as he might go, And at the gate he proffer'd his service, For he had given drink his gaoler so To drudge and draw, what so men would devise.'3 Of a clary,26 made of a certain wines And, shortly of this matter for to sayn, With narcotise and opie27 of Thebes fine, He fell in office with a chamberlain, That all the night, though that men would him The which that dwelling was with Emily, shake, For he was wise, and coulde soon espy The gaoler slept, he mighte not awake: Of every servant which that served her. And thus he fled as fast as ever he may. Well could he hewB wood, and water bear, The night was short, and faste by the day For he was young and mighty for the nones,14 That needes cast he must 28 himself to hide, /\ And thereto he was strong and big of bones And to a grove fastB there beside To do that any wight can him devise. With dreadful foot then stalked Palamon. A year or two he was in this service, For shortly this was his opini6n, Page of the chamber of Emily the bright; That in the grove he would him hide all day, And Philostrate he saide that he hight. And in the night then would he take his way 1 In front of his head in his fantastic cell. "The 9 Lived in lowly fashion. division of the brain into cells, according to the different 10 His secret, his private history. 11 Fortune. sensitive faculties," says Mr Wright, " is very ancient, 12 Nearest; German, " nchste." 13 Order, direct. and is found depicted in mediaeval manuscripts." In 14 Nonce, occasion, purpose. a manuscript in the Harleian Library, it is stated, 15 Elevate him in rank. 16 Prudently, discreetly. "Certum est in prora cerebri esse fantasiam, in medio 17 Led. 18 War. 19 Dear. 20 Little. i'ationem discretionis, in puppi memoriam "-a classifi- 21 Pined, wasted away. cation not materially differing from that of modern 22 Whom love so distresses or afflicts. phrenologists. 2 "Dominus," Lord; Spanish, "Don." 23 Mad. 24 In truth, I am not the man to do iSc 3 Rod; the "caduceus." 4 Heed, notice. 25 Settled, decreed. 5 Argus was employed by Juno to watch Io with his 26 Hippocras wine made with spices. hundred eyes; but he was set to sleep by the flute of 27 Narcotics and opiates, or opium. Mercury, who then cut off his head. 28 Close at hand was the day, during which he must 6 oi 7 Fixed, prepared. 8 Die. cast about, or contrive, to conceal himself. 32 THE CANTERBURY TALES. To Thebes-ward, his friendes for to pray Is gearful,14 right so changeth she array. On Theseus to help him to warray.1 Seldom is Friday all the weeke like. And shortly either he would lose his life, When Arcite had y-sung, he gan to sike,l5 Or winnen Emily unto his wife. And sat him down withouten any more: This is th' effect, and his intention plain. "Alas! " quoth h," the day that I was bore! Now will I turn to Arcita again, How longS, Juno, through thy cruelty That little wist how nighe was his care, Wilt thou warrayen16 Thebes the city? Till that Fortine had brought him in the snare. Alas! y-brought is to confusion The busy lark, the messenger of day, The blood royal of Cadm' and Amphion: Saluteth in her song the morning gray; Of Cadmus, which that was the firste man, And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright, That Thebes built, or first the town began, That all the orient laugheth at the sight, And of the city first was crowned king. And with his streames 2 drieth in the greves 3 Of his lineage am I, and his offspring The silver droppes, hanging on the leaves; By very line, as of the stock royal; And Arcite, that is in the court royal And now I am so caitiff and so thrall,l7 With Theseus, his squier principal, That he that is my mortal enemy, Is ris'n, and looketh on the merry day. I serve him as his squier poorely. And for to do his 6bservance to May, And yet doth Juno me well morb shame, Remembering the point 4 of his desire, For I dare not beknow 18 mine owen name, He on his courser, starting as the fire, But there as I was wont to hight Arcite, Is ridden to the fieldes him to play, Now hight I Philostrate, not worth a mite. Out of the court, were it a mile or tway. Alas! thou fell Mars, and alas! Juno, And to the grove, of which I have you told, Thus hath your ire our lineage all fordo'.19 By aventure his way began to hold, Save only me, and wretched Palamon, To makB him a garland of the greves,3 That Theseus martfreth in pris6n. Were it of woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves, And over all this, to slay me utterly, And loud he sang against the sun so sheen.5 Love hath his fiery dart so brenningly 20 " O May, with all thy flowers and thy green, Y-sticked through my true careful heart, Right welcome be thou, faire freshB May, That shapen was my death erst than my shert.2 I hope that I some green here getten may." Ye slay me with your eyen, Emily; And from his courser, with a lusty heart, Ye be the cause wherefore that I die. Into the grove full hastily he start, Of all the remnant of mine other care And in a path he roamed up and down, Ne set I not the mountance of a tare,22 There as by fventure this Palamon So that I could do aught to your pleasance." Was in a bush, that no man might him see, And with that word he fell down in a trance For sore afeared of his death was he. A longe time; and afterward upstart Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite; This Palamon, that thought thorough his heart God wot he would have trowed it full lite.6 He felt a cold sword suddenly to glide: But sooth is said, gone since full many years,7 For ire he quoke,2 no longer would he hide. The field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears. And when that he had heard Arcite's tale, It is full fair a man to bear him even,8 As he were wood,24 with face dead and pale, For all day meeten men at unset steven.9 He start him up out of the bushes thick, Full little wot Arcite of his fellaw, And said: " False Arcita, false traitor wick',25 That was so nigh to hearken of his saw,10 Now art thou hent,26 that lov'st my lady so, For in the bush he sitteth now full still. For whom that I have all this pain and woe, When that Arcite had roamed all his fill, And art my blood, and to my counsel sworn, And sungen all the roundel 1 lustily, As I full oft have told thee herebeforn, Into a study he fell suddenly, And hast bejaped27 here Duke Theseus, As do those lovers in their quainte gears,l2 And falsely changed hast thy name thus; Now in the crop, and now down in the breres,l3 I will be dead, or ellbs thou shalt die. Now up, now down, as bucket in a well. Thou shalt not love my lady Emily, Right as the Friday, soothly for to tell, But I will love her only and no mo'; Now shineth it, and now it raineth fast, For I am Palamon thy mortal foe. Right so can geary 14 Venus overcast And though I have no weapon in this place, The heartes of her folk, right as her day But out of prison am astart 28 by grace, l To make war; French, "guerroyer," to molest; 14 Changeful, full of "gears" or humours, inconhence, perhaps, "to worry." stant. 2 Beams, rays. 3 Groves. 4 Object. 15 Sigh. 16 Torment. 5 Shining, bright. 6 Full little believed it. 17 So wretched and enslaved. 7 It is an old and true saying. 18 Avow, acknowledge; German, -" bekennen." 8 To be always of the same demeanour; on his guard. 19 Undone, ruined. 20 Burningly. 9 Every day men meet at unexpected time. To 21 My death was decreed before my shirt was shaped " set a steven," is to fix a time, make an appointment. -that is, before any clothes were made for me, before o1 Saying, speech. my birth. 11 Roundelay; song coming round again to the words 22 The value of a tare or a straw. with which it opened. 12 Odd fashions. 23 Or "quook," from "quake," as "shook" from 13 Now in the tree-top, now in the briars. "Crop "shake." 21 Mad. and root," top and bottom, is used to express the per- 25 Wicked. 26 Caught. fection or totality of anything. 27 Deceived, imposed upon, 28 Escaped. THE KNIGHT'S TALL. 33 I dreade' not that either thou shalt die, There was no good day, and no saluting, Or else thou shalt not loven Emily. But straight, withoute wordes rehearsing, Choose which thou wilt, for thou shalt not Evereach of them holp to arm the other, astart." As friendly, as he were his owen brother. This Arcite then, with full dispiteous 2 heart, And after that, with sharpe speares strong When he him knew, and had his tale heard, They foined 17 each at other wonder long. As fierce as lion pulled out a swerd, Thou mightest weene,18 that this Palamon And saide thus; "By God that sitt'th above, In his fighting were as a wood 1 lion, N'ere its that thou art sick, and wood for love, And as a cruel tiger was Arcite: And eke that thou no weap'n hast in this place, As wilde boars gan they together smite, Thou should'st never out of this grove pace, That froth as white as foam, for ire wood.20 That thou ne shouldest dien of mine hand. Up to the ancle fought they in their blood. For I defy the surety and the band, And in this wise I let them fighting dwell, Which that thou sayest I have made to thee. And forth I will of Theseus you tell. What? very fool, think well that love is free; The Destiny, minister general, And I will love her maugr6 4 all thy might. That executeth in the world o'er all But, for thou art a worthy gentle knight, The purveyince,21 that God hath seen beforn; And wilnest to darraine her by bataille,5 So strong it is, that though the world had sworn Have here my troth, to-morrow I will not fail, The contrary of a thing by yea or nay, Without weeting6 of any other wight, Yet some time it shall fallen on a day That here I will be founden as a knight, That falleth not eft 22 in a thousand year. And bringe harness 7 right enough for thee; For certainly our appetites here, And choose the best, and leave the worst for me. Be it of war, or peace, or hate, or love, And meat and drinke this night will I bring All is this ruled by the sight 23 above. Enough for thee, and clothes for thy bedding. This mean I now by mighty Theseus, And if so be that thou my lady win, That for to hunten is so desirousAnd slay me in this wood that I am in, And namnly24 the greati hart in MayThou may'st well have thy lady as for me." That in his bed there daweth him no day This Palamon answfr'd, " I grant it thee." That he n'is clad, and ready for to ride And thus they be departed till the morrow, WVith hunt and horn, and houndes him beside. When each of them hath laid his faith to borrow.8 For in his hunting hath he such delight, 3.0 Cupid, out of alle charity! That it is all his joy and appetite O Regne9 that wilt no fellow have with thee! To be himself the greate hartS's bane; 25 Full sooth is said, that love nor lordeship For after Mars he serveth now Diane. Will not, his thanks,l1 have any fellowship. Clear was the day, as I have told ere this, Well finden that Arcite and Palamon. And Theseus, with alle joy and bliss, Arcite is ridd anon unto the town, With his Hippolyta, the faire queen, And on the morrow, ere it were daylight, And Emily, y-clothed all in green, Full privily two harness hath he dight,l On hunting be they ridden royally. KI;\Both suffisant and meete to darraine2 - And to the grove, that stood there faste by, The battle in the field betwixt them twain. In which there was an hart, as men him told, And on his horse, alone as he was born, Duke Theseus the straights way doth hold, He carrieth all this harness him beforn; And to the laund26 he rideth him full right, And in the grove, at time and place y-set, There was the hart y-wont to have his flight, This Arcite and this Palamon be met. And over a brook, and so forth on his way. Then change gan the colour of their face; This Duke will have a course at him or tway Right as the hunter in the regne 1 of Thrace With houndes, such as him lust 27 to command, That standeth at a gapp8 14 with a spear And when this Duke was come to the laund, When hunted is the lion or the bear, Under the sun he looked, and anon And heareth him come rushing in the greves,15 He was ware of Arcite and Palamon, And breaking both the boughes and the leaves, That foughte breme,28 as it were bulles two. Thinketh, " Here comes my mortal enemy, The brighti swordes wenti to and fro Without8 fail, he must be dead or I; So hideously, that with the leaste stroke For either I must slay him at the gap; It seemed that it woulde fell an oak, Or he must slay me, if that me mishap:" But what they weri, nothing yet he wote. So fared they, in changing of their hue This Duke his courser with his spurres smote, As far as either of them other knew.l And at a start 29 he was betwixt them two, I Doubt. 2 Wrathful. 16 When they recognised each other afar off. 3 Were it not. 4 Despite. 17 Thrust. 18 Think.! 9 Mad,'5 Wilt challenge, reclaim, her by combat. 20 For anger mad. 6 Knowledge. 7 Armour, arms. 21 Providence, foreordination. 8 Had pledged his faith. 22 Again. 23 Eye; intelligence, power. 9 Queen; French, "Reine;" Venus is meant. The 24 Especially. 25 Torment, destruction. common reading, however, is "regne," reign or power. 26 Plain. Compare modern English, " lawn," and o1 Thanks to him; with his goodwill. French, "Landes"-flat, bare marshy tracts in the 11 Prepared two suits of armour, 12 Contest. south of France. 13 Realm, kingdom. 14 Gap, opening, 27 Pleased. 28 Fiercely. 15 Groves. 29 In a moment, on a sudden.., __ U I — ~-~- I0 34 STHE CANTERBURY TALES. And pulled out a sword and cried, " Ho! Till at the last aslaked was his mood 10 No more, on pain of losing of your head. (For pity runneth soon in gentle heart); By mighty Mars, he shall anon be dead And though at first for ire he quoke and start, That smiteth any stroke, that I may see! He hath consider'd shortly in a clause But tell to me what mister men ye be, The trespass of them both, and eke the cause: That be so hardy for to fightB here And although that his ire their guilt accused, Withoute judge or other officer, Yet in his reason he them both excused; As though it were in listes 2 royally." As thus; he thoughte well that every man This Palamon answered hastily, Will help himself in love if that he can, And saide: " Sir, what needeth wordes mo'? And eke deliver himself out of prison. We have the death deserved bothe two, And eke his hearti had compassion Two woful wretches be we, and caitives, Of women, for they wepten ever-in-one:1 That be accumbered 3 of our own lives, And in his gentle heart he thought anon, And as thou art a rightful lord and judge, And soft unto himself he saide: " Fie So give us neither mercy nor refuge. Upon a lord that will have no mercy, And slay me first, for saintB charity, But be a lion both in word and deed, But slay my fellow eke as well as me. To them that be in repentance and dread, Or slay him first; for, though thou know it lite,4 As well asto a proud dispiteous12 man This is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite, That will maintainB what he first began. That from thy land is banisht on his head, That lord hath little of discreti6n, For which he hath deserved to be dead. That in such case can no divisin:13 For this is he that came unto thy gate But weigheth pride and humbless after one." 14 And saide, that he hightB Philostrate. And shortly, when his ire is thus agone, Thus hath he japed5 thee full many a year, He gan to look on them with eyen light,15 And thou hast made of him thy chief esquier; And spake these same wordbs all on height.16 And this is he, that loveth Emily. "The god of love, ah! benedicite,7 For since the day is come that I shall die How mighty and how great a lord is he! I makB pleinly6 my confessi6n, Against his might there gain 18 none obstacles, That I am thilkB7 woful Palamon, He may be call'd a god for his miracles. That hath thy prison broken wickedly. For he can maken at his owen guise I am thy mortal foe, and it am I Of every heart, as that him list devise. That so hot loveth Emily the bright, Lo here this Arcite, and this Palamon, That I would die here present in her sight. That quietly were out of my pris6n, Therefore I aske death and my jewise.8 And might have lived in Thebes royally, But slay my fellow eke in the same wise, And weet19 I am their mortal enemy, For both we have deserved to be slain." And that their death li'th in my might also, This worthy Duke answer'd anon again, And yet hath love, maugre their eyen two,20 And said, " This is a short conclusion. Y-brought them hither bothe for to die. Your own mouth, by your own confession Now look ye, is not this an high folly? Hath danned you, and I will it record; Who may not be a fool, if but he love? It needeth not to pain you with the cord; Behold, for Godde's sake that sits above, Ye shall be dead, by mighty Mars the Red." 9 See how they bleed! be they not well array'd? The queen anon for very womanhead Thus hath their lord, the god of love, them paid Began to weep, and so did Emily, Their wages and their fees for their service; And all the ladies in the company. And yet they weenb for to be full wise, Great pity was it, as it thought them all, That serve love, for ought that may befall. That ever such a chance should befall, But this is yet the bestB game2l of all, For gentle men they were, of great estate, That she, for whom they have this jealousy, And nothing but for love was this debate; Can them therefor as muchel thank as me. They saw their bloody woundbs wide and sore, She wot no more of all this hote fare,22 And cried all at once, both less and more, By God, than wot a cuckoo or an hare. " Have mercy, Lord, upon us women all." But all must be assayed hot or cold; And on their bar8 knees adown they fall, A man must be a fool, or young or old; And would have kiss'd his feet there as he I wot it by myself full yore agone: 23 stood, For in my time a servant was I one. 1 Manner, kind; German, "Muster," sample, model. " Then the red glow, horrible to the nations, which you 2 In the lists, prepared for such single combats be- saytobe that of Mars." Boccaccio opens the "Theseida" tween champion and accuser, &c. by an invocation to " rubicondo Marte." 3 Wearied, burdened. 4 Little. 10 His anger was appeased. 5 Deceived. 6 Fully, unreservedly. 11 Contihually; perhaps another reading, "every one," 7 Contracted from "the ilke," the same; that. is the better. 12 Unpitying, disdainful. 8 Doom, judgment; from the Latin, " judicium." 13 Can make no distinction. 9 Referring to the ruddy colour of the planet, to 14 Alike. 15 Gentle, lenient. which was doubtless due the transference to it of the 16 Aloud; he had just been speaking to himself. name of the God of War. In his "Republic," enu- 17 Bless ye him. 18 Avail, conquer. 19 Know. merating the seven planets, Cicero speaks of the pro- 20 "In spite of their eyes." pitious and beneficent light of Jupiter: " Turn (fulgor) 21 The best joke of all-the best of the joke. rutilus horribilisque terris, quem Martium dicitis"- 22 Behaviour. 23 Long ago; years ago, THE KNIGHTS'S TALE. 35 And therefore since I know of lovi's pain, Who could it tell, or who could it indite, And wot how sore it can a man distrain,1 The joye that is makedin the place As he that oft hath been caught in his las,2 When Theseus hath done so fair a grace? I you forgive wholly this trespass, But down on knees went every manner17 wight, At request of the queen that kneeleth here, And thanked him with all their heartes' might, And eke of Emily, my sister dear. And namely 18 these Thebans ofte sithe.l9 And ye shall both anon unto me swear, And thus with good hope and with hearte blithe That never more ye shall my country dere,3 They take their leave, and homeward gan they Nor maki war upon me night nor day, ride But be my friends in allH that ye may. To Thebes-ward, with his old walles wie.L I you forgive this trespass every d6al."4 I trow men woulde deem it negligence, And they him sware his asking5 fair and well, If I forgot to tell the dispence20 And him of lordship and of mercy pray'd, Of Theseus, that went so busily And he them granted grace, and thus he said: To maken up the listes royally, "To speak of royal lineage and richiss, That such a noble theatre as it was, Though that she were a queen or a princess, I dare well say, in all this world there n'as.21 Each of you both is worthy doubteless The circuit a mile was about, To wedde when time is; but natheless Walled of stone, and ditched all without. I speak as for my sister Emily, Round was the shape, in manner of compass, For whom ye have this strife and jealousy, Full of degrees,22 the height of sixty pas,23 Ye wot yourselves, she may not wed the two That when a man was set on one degree At once, although ye fight for evermo': He letted24 not his fellow for to see. But one of you, all be him loth or lief,6 Eastward there stood a gate of marble white, He must go pipe into an ivy leaf: 7 Westward right such another opposite. This is to say, she may not have you both, And, shortly to concludi, such a place All be ye never so jealous, nor so wroth. Was never on earth made in so little space, And therefore I you put in this degree, For in the land there was no craftes-man, That each of you shall have his destiny That geometry or arsmetrike can,25 As him is shape;8 and hearken in What wise; Nor pourtrayor,2 nor carver of images, Lo hear your end of that I shall devise. That Theseus ne gave him meat and wages My will is this, for plain conclusion The theatre to make and to devise. Withouten any replicati6n,9 And for to do his rite and sacrifice If that you liketh, take it for the best, He eastward hath upon the gate above, That evereach of you shall go where him lest, 10 In worship of Venus, goddess of love, Freely withoute ransom or danger; Done 7 make an altar and an oratory; And this day fifty weekes, farre ne nerre,1 And westward, in the mind and in memory Evereach of you shall bring an hundred knights, Of Mars, he maked hath right such another, Armed for listis up at alle rights That coste largely of gold a fother.28 All ready to darraine 12 her by bataille, And northward, in a turret on the wall, And this behete 13 I you withoute fail Of alabaster white and red coral Upon my troth, and as I am a knight, An oratory riche for to see, That whether of you bothe that hath might, In worship of Diane of chastity, That is to say, that whether he or thou Hath Theseus done 27 work in noble wise. May with his hundred, as I spake of now, But yet had I forgotten to devise 29 Slay his contrary, or out of listis drive, The noble carving, and the portraitures, Him shall I given Emily to wive, The shape, the countenance of the figures To whom that fortune gives so fair a grace. That weren in these oratories three. The listes shall I make here in this place. First in the temple of Venus may'st thou see And God so wisly on my soule rue,l4 Wrought on the wall, full piteous to behold, As I shall even judgi be and true. The broken sleepis, and the sikes30 cold, Ye shall none other ende with me maken The sacred teares, and the waimentings,31 Than one of you shalle be dead or taken. The fiery strokes of the desirings, And if you thinketh this is well y-said, That Love's servants in this life endure; Say your advice,l5 and hold yourselves apaid.l6 The oathes, that their covenants assure. This is your end, and your conclusi6n." Pleasance and Hope, Desire, Foolhardiness, Who looketh lightly now but Palamon? Beauty and Youth, and Bawdry and Rich~ss, Who springeth up for joye but Arcite?' Charms and Sorc'ry, Leasings 32 and Flattery, 1 Distress, torment. 19 Oftentimes; the Thebans are the rival lovers. 2 Lace, leash, noose; snare; from Latin, "laqueus." 20 Expenditure. 21 Was not. 3 Injure. 4 Completely. 5 What he asked. 22 Steps, benches, as in the ancient amphitheatre. 6 Will he, nill he. 7 " He must go whistle." 23 Either the building was sixty paces high; or, more 8 As is decreed, prepared, for him. probably, there were sixty of the steps or benches. 9 Reply. 0o Where he pleases. 24 Hindered. 25 Arithmetic. 11 Neither farther nor nearer. 26 Painter of figures or portraits. 12 Contend for. 13 Promise. 27 Caused. 28 A great amount, heap. 14 May God as surely have mercy on my soul. 29 Describe. so Sighs. 15 Opinion. 16 Satisfied. 17 Kind of. 18 Especially. 31 Lamentings. 32 Falsehoods. 36 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Dispence, Business, and Jealousy, In which there dwelled neither man nor beast, That wore of yellow goldes 1 a garland, With knotty gnarry 13 barren trees old And had a cuckoo sitting on her hand, Of stubbes sharp and hideous to behold; Feasts, instruments, and caroles and dances, In which there ran a rumble and a sough,14 Lust and array, and all the circumstances As though a storm should bursten every bough: Of Love, which I reckon'd and reckon shall And downward from an hill under a bent, l In order, were painted on the wall, There stood the temple of Mars Armipotent, And more than I can make of menti6n. Wrought all of burnish'd steel, of which th' entry For soothly all the mount of Citheron,2 Was long and strait, and ghastly for to see. Where Venus hath her principal dwelling, And thereout came a rage and such a vise,16 Was showed on the wall in pourtraying, That it made all the gates for to rise. With all the garden, and the lustiness.3 The northern light in at the doori shone, Nor was forgot the porter Idleness, For window on the walle was there none Nor Narcissus the fair of yore agone,4 Through which men mighten any light discern. Nor yet the folly of King Solomon, The doors were all of adamant etern, Nor yet the greate strength of Hercules, Y-clenched overthwart and endelong 17 Th' enchantments of Medea and Circ6s, With iron tough, and, for to make it strong, Nor of Turnus the hardy fierce courfge, Every pillar the temple to sustain The riche Crcesus caitif in servage.5 Was tunne-great,18 of iron bright and sheen. Thus may ye see, that wisdom nor richess, There saw I first the dark imagining Beauty, nor sleight, nor strength, nor hardiness, Of felony, and all the compassing; Ne may with Venus holde champartie,6 The cruel ire, as red as any glede,19 For as her liste the world may she gie.7 The pickepurse,20 and eke the pale dread; Lo, all these folk so caught were in her las 8 The smiler with the knife under the cloak, Till they for woe full often said, Alas! The shepen 21 burning with the blacki smoke; Suffice these ensamples one or two, The treason of the murd'ring in the bed, Although I could reckon a thousand mo'. The open war, with woundes all be-bled; The statue of Venus, glorious to see Conteke 22 with bloody knife, and sharp menace. Was naked floating in the largB sea, All full of chirking 23 was that sorry place. And from the navel down all cover'd was The slayer of himself eke saw I there, With waves green, and bright as any glass. His hearte-blood had bathed all his hair: A citole 9 in her right hand hadde she, The nail y-driven in the shode 24 at night, And on her head, full seemly for to see, The colde death, with mouth gaping upright. A rose garland fresh, and well smelling, Amiddes of the temple sat Mischance, Above her head her doves flickering. With discomf6rt and sorry countenance; Before her stood her sone Cupido, Eke saw I Woodness 25 laughing in his rage, Upon his shoulders winges had he two; Armed Complaint, Outhees,26 and fierce Outrage; And blind he was, as it is often seen; The carrain27 in the bush, with throat y-corve,2 A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen. A thousand slain, and not of qualm y-storve;29 Why should I not as well eke tell you all The tyrant, with the prey by force y-reft; The portraiture, that was upon the wall The town destroy'd, that there was nothing left. Within the temple of mighty Mars the Red? Yet saw I brent the shippes hoppesteres,30 All painted was the wall in length and brede 0 The hunter strangled with the wilde bears: Like to the estres 11 of the grisly place The sow freting 31 the child right in the cradle; That hight the great Temple of Mars in Thrace, The cook scalded, for all his longe ladle. In thilke12 cold and frosty regi6n, Nor was forgot, by th' infortune of Mart 32 There as Mars hath his sovereign mansi6n. The carter overridden with his cart; First on the wall was painted a forest, Under the wheel full low he lay adown. 1 The flower turnsol, or girasol, which turns with and 16 Such a furious voice. seems to watch the sun, as a jealous lover his mistress. 17 Crossways and lengthways. 18 Thick as a tun. 2 The isle of Venus, Cythera, in the JEgean Sea; 19 Live coal. now called Cerigo: not, as Chaucer's form of the word 20 The plunderers that followed armies, and gave to might imply, Mount Cithaeron, in the south-west of war a horror all their own. Boeotia, which was appropriated to other deities than 21 Stable; Anglo-Saxon, " scypen;" the word Venus-to Jupiter, to Bacchus, and the Muses. " sheppon " still survives in provincial parlance. 3 Pleasantness. 4 Olden time. 22 Contention, discord. 23 Creaking, jarring noise. 5 Abased into slavery. It need not be said that 24 Hair of the head; the line, perhaps, refers to the Chaucer pays slight heed to chronology in this passage, deed of Jael. 25 Madness. 26 Outcry. where the deeds of Turnus, the glory of King Solomon, 27 Carrion, corpse. 28 Slashed, cut. and the fate of Crcesus are made memories of the far 29 Not dead of sickness. past in the time of fabulous Theseus, the Minotaur- 30 The meaning is dubious. We may understand slayer. "the dancing ships," the ships that "hop" on the 6 Divided power or possession; an old law-term, waves; "steres" being taken as the feminine adJecsignifying the maintenance of a person in a suit on tival termination: or we may, perhaps, read, with one the condition of receiving part of the property in dis- of the manuscripts, " the ships upo the steres " —that pute. if recovered. is, even as they are being steered, or on the open sea 7 Or "guy;" guide, rul Snae. -a mSnare picturesque notion. 9 A kind of dulcimer. 10 Breadth., 31 Devouring; the Germans use " fressen " to describe 11 Interior, chambers. 12 That. 13 gnarled, eating by animals, "essen "by men. 14 Groaning noise. 15 Slope. 32 Through the misfortune of war. THE KNIGHT'S TALE. 37 There were also of Mars' division, The which me list not drawen to mem6ry. The armourer, the bowyer,l and the smith, This goddess on an hart full high was set,l5 That forgeth sharpe swordis on his stith.2 With smalle houndes all about her feet, And all above depainted in a tower And underneath her feet she had a moon, Saw I Conquest, sitting in great honour, Waxing it was, and shoulde wane soon. With thilke 3 sharpe sword over his head'"Igaudy green her statue clothed was, Hanging by a subtle y-twined thread. With bow in hand, and arrows in a case.l6 Painted the slaughter was of Julius,4 Her eyen caste she full low adown, Of cruel Nero, and Antonius: Where Pluto hath his darkebregioun. Although at that time they were yet unborn, A woman travailing was her beforn, Yet was their death depainted there beforn, But, for her child so longe was unborn, By menacing of Mars, right by figure, Full piteously Lucina 17 gan she call, So was it showed in that portraitfire, And saidB; "Help, for thou may'st best of As is depainted in the stars above, all." Who shall be slain, or ellis dead for love. Well could he painte lifelike that it wrought; Sufficeth one ensample in stories old, With many a florin he the hues had bought. I may not reckon them all, though I wo'ld. Now be these listis made, and Theseus, The statue of Mars upon a carte 5 stood That at his great8 cost arrayed thus Armed, and looked grim as he were wood,6 The temples, and the theatre every deal,'l And over his head there shone two figfires When it was done, him liked wonder well. Of starres, that be cleped in scriptures, But stint 1 I will of Theseus a lite,20 That one Puella, that other Rubeus.7 And speak of Palamon and of Arcite. This god of armis was arrayed thus: The day approacheth of their returning, A wolf there stood before him at his feet That evereach an hundred knights should With eyen red, and of a man he eat: bring, With subtle pencil painted was this story, The battle to darraine21 as I you told; In redouting8 of Mars and of his glory. And to Athens, their covenant to hold, Now to the temple of Dian the chaste Hath ev'reach of them brought an hundred As shortly as I can I will me haste, knights, To telle you all the descriptioun. Well'armed for the war at alli rights. Depainted be the walles up and down And sickerly 22 there trowed 23 many a man, Of hunting and of shamefast chastity. That never, sithen 24 that the world began, There saw I how woful Calistope,9 For to speaken of knighthood of their hand, When that Dian aggrieved was with her, As far as God hath maked sea and land, Was turned from a woman till a bear, Was, of so few, so noble a company.25 And after was she made the lodestar: 0 For every wight that loved chivalry, Thus was it painted, I can say no far;' Andwould, his thankes,26 have a passant27 name, Her son is eke a star as men may see. Had prayed, that he might be of that game, There saw I Danb 12 turn'd into a tree, And well was him, that thereto chosen was. I meane not the goddess Diani, For if there fell to-morrow such a case, But Peneus' daughter, which that hight Dane. Ye knowe well, that every lusty knight, There saw I Actseon an hart y-maked,l3 That loveth par amour, and hath his might, For vengeance that he saw Dian all naked: Were it in Engleland, or elleswhere, I saw how that his houndes have him caught, They would, their thankes, willen to be there, And freten14 him, for that they knew him not. T' fight for a lady; benedicite, Yet painted was, a little farthermore, It were a lusty 28 sighte for to see. How Atalanta hunted the wild boar, And right so fared they with'Palamon; And Meleager, and many other mo', With him there wenti knightis many one. For which Diana wrought them care and woe. Some will be armed in an habergeon, There saw I many another wondrous story, And in a breast-plate, and in a gipon;29 1 Maker of bows. 2 Stithy, anvil. 3 That. 18 In every part: " deal corresponds to the German 4 Julius Caesar. 5 Chariot. 6 Mad. " Theil," a portion. 7 Puella and Rubeus were two figures in geomancy, 19 Cease speaking. 20 Little. representing two constellations-the one signifying 21 Set in array; contest. Mars retrograde, the other Mars direct. 22 Surely; German, "sicher;" Scotch, "sikkar," cer8 In reverence, fear. tain. When Robert Bruce had escaped from England 9 Or Callisto: daughter of Lycaon, seduced by Jupi- to assume the Scottish crown, he stabbed Comyn beter, turned into a bear by Diana, and placed afterwards, fore the altar at Dumfries; and, emerging from the with her son, as the Great Bear among the stars. church, was askea by his friend Kirkpatrick if he had 10 polestar. 11 Farther; for "farre" or "ferre." slain the traitor. "I doubt it," said Bruce. "Doubt," 12 Daphne, daughter of the river-god Peneus, in Thes- cried Kirkpatrick. "I'11 mak sikkar;" and he saly; she was beloved by Apollo, but to avoid his pursuit, rushed into the church, and despatched Comyn with she was, at her own prayer, changed into a laurel-tree. repeated thrusts of his dagger. 13 Made. 14 Devour. 15 Seated. 16 Quiver. 23 Believed. 24 Since. 17 As the goddess of Light, or the goddess who brings 25 Never since the world began was there assembled to light, Diana-as well as Juno-was invoked by from every part of the earth, in proportion to the women in child-birth: so Horace, Odes iii. 22, says:- smallness of the number, such a brave and noble com"Montium custos nemorumque, Virgo, pany of knights. QuSe laborantes utero puellas 26 With his good-will; thanks to his own efforts. Ter vocata audig adimisqug leto, Diva triformis." 27 Surpassing, 28 Pleasing. 29 Short doublet. 38 THE CANTERBURY TALES. And some will have a pair of plates 1 large; Of five and twenty year his age I cast.21 And some will have a Prusse 2 shield, or targe; His beard was well begunnen for to spring; Some will be armed on'their legges weel; His voice was as a trumpet thundering. Some have an axe, and some a mace of steel. Upon his head he wore of laurel green There is no newe guise,4 but it was old. A garland fresh and lusty to be seen; Armed they weren, as I have you told, Upon his hand he bare, for his delight, Evereach after his opini6n. An eagle tame, as any lily white. There may'st thou see coming with Palamon An hundred lordes had he with him there, Licurgus himself, the great king of Thrace: All armed, save their heads, in all their gear, Black was his beard, and manly was his face. Full richily in alle manner things. The circles of his eyen in his head For trust ye well, that earles, dukes, and kings They glowed betwixti yellow and red, Were gather'd in this noble company, And like a griffin looked he about, For love, and for increase of chivalry. With kemped 5 haires on his browes stout; About this king there ran on every part His limbs were great, his brawns were hard and Full many a tame li6n and leopart. strong, And in this wise these lordes all and some 22 His shoulders broad, his armes round and long. Be on the Sunday to the city come And as the guise 4 was in his country, Aboute prime,23 and in the town alight. Full high upon a car of gold stood'he, This Theseus, this Duke, this worthy knight, With foure white bulles in the trace. When he had brought them into his city, Instead of coat-armour on his harness, And inned24 hem, ev'reach at his degree, With yellow nails, and bright as any gold, Re feasteth them and doth so gret labour He had a beare's skin, coal-black for old. To easen them and do them all hono His long hair was y-kempt behind his back, That yet men ween 26 that no mann's wi As any raven's feather it shone for black. Of none estate could amenden27 it. A wreath of gold arm-great,7 of huge weight, The minstrelsy, the service at the feast Upon his head sate, full of stones bright, great gifts to the mostand least Of fini rubies and clear diamants. About his car there wenti white alauns,8 The rich array of Theseus' paldce, Abouty ain caro there, as greahiteas aunysteer, Nor who sate first or last upon the dais,28 Twenty and more, as great as any steer, What ladies fairest be, or best dancing To hunt the lion or the wilde bear, Or which of them can carol best or sing, And follow'd him, with muzzle fast y-bound, Or who mst feelingly speaketh of love; Collars of gold, and torettes 9 filed round. What hawks sitten on the perch above, An hundred lordes had he in his rout,1 What hounds liggen 2 on the floor adown Armed full well, with heartes stern and stout. Of all this now me no mentioun With Arcita, in stories as men find, But of th' effect;that thinketh me the best; The great Emetrius the king of Ind, Now comes the point, and hearken if you lest.30 Upon a steede bay,ll trapped in steel, The Sunday night, ere day began to spring, Cover'd with cloth of gold difpred12 well, When Palamon the larke heard sing, Came riding like the god of armes, Mars. Although it were not day by houris two, His coat-armoor was of a cloth of Tars,13 Yet sang the lark, and Palamon right tho 3 Couched Ya with pearlts white and round and th Couched 4 with pearl. s white and round and With holy heart, and with an high courfge, sgreat. o Arose, to wenden 32 on his pilgrimage His saddle was of burnish'd gold new beat; Unto the blissful Cithera benign A mantelet on his shoulders hanging I meane Venus, honourable and digne. Bretful 15 of rubies red, as fire sparkling. And in her hour 34 he walketh forth a pace His crisp8 hair like ring&s was y-run,16 His crispe hair like rilnges was y-run,l6 Unto the listis, where her temple was, And that was yellow, glittering as the sun. And down he kneeleth, and ith humble chee His nose was high, his eyen bright citrine n s h s And heart8 sore, he said as ye shall hear. His lips were round, his colour was sanguine, "Fairest of fair, 0 lady mine Venus A few4 fracknes in his face y-sprent,l8 Daughter to Jove, and spouse of Vulcanus Betwixt yellow and black somedeal y-ment, hou gladder of the mount of ithero And as a lion he his looking cast.20 For thilk37 love thou haddest to Ad 38 1 Back and front armour. 2 Prussian. 20 Cast about his eyes 3 Well-greaved; like Homer's evKVy7Laes AXcot. 21 Reckon; as we now speak of " casting a sum " 4 Fashion. 22 All and sundry. 5 Combed; the word survives in "uankempt." 23 The time of early prayers, between six and nine in 6 Age. 7 As thick as a man's arm. the morning. 24 Lodged; whence "inn." 8 Greyhounds, mastiffs; from the Spanish word 25 Give them pleasure, make them comfortable. " Alano," signifying a mastiff. 9 Rings. 26 Think. 27 Improve. 28 See note 18, page 21. 10 Retinue, company. 11 Bay horse. 29 Lie. 30 Please. 31 Then. 32 Go. 33 Worthy. 12 Diversified with flourishes or figures. 34 In the hour of the day which, under the astrolo13 A kind of silk. 14 Trimmed. gical system that apportioned the twenty-four among 15 Brimful, covered with. the seven ruling planets, was under the influence of 16 His curled hair ran down into ringlets. Venus. 17 Pale yellow colour. 35 Demeanour. 36 See note 2, page 36. 37 That. 18 A few freckles sprinkled on his face. 38 Adonis, a beautiful youth beloved of Venus, whose 19 Sgomlwht mixed; German, "mengen," to mix. death by the tusk of a boar she deeply mourned. THE KNIGHT'S TALE. 39 Have pity on my bitter teares' smart, Th' incense, the clothes, and the remnant all And take mine humble prayer to thine heart. That to the sacrifice belonge shall, Alas! I have no language to tell The hornms full of mead, as was the guise; Th' effects, nor the torment of mine hell; There lacked nought to do her sacrifice.'Mine heartB may mine harmis not betray; Smoking 13 the temple full of clothes fair, I am so c6nfused, that I cannot say. This Emily with hearte debonnair 14 But mercy, lady bright, that knowest well Her body wash'd with water of a well. My thought, and seest what harm that I feel. But how she did her rite I dare not tell; Consider all this, and rue upon 1 my sore, But 15 it be any thing in general; As wisly 2 as I shall for evermore And yet it were a game 16 to hearen all; Enforce my might, thy true servant to be, To him that meaneth well it were no charge: And holde war alway with chastity: But it is good a man to be at large.l7 That make I mine avow,3 so ye me help. Her bright hair combed was, untressed all. I keepe not of armes for to yelp,4 A coronet of green oak cerrial 18 Nor ask I not to-morrow to have vict6ry, Upon her head was set full fair and meet. Nor r6nown in this case, nor vaine glory Two fires on the altar gan she bete, Of prize of armes,5 blowing up and down, And did her thinges, as men may behold But I would have fully possessioun In Stace 19 of Thebes, and these bookes old. Of Emily, and die in her service; When kindled was the fire, with piteous cheer Find thou the manner how, and in what wise. Unto Dian she spake as ye may hear. I recke not but6 it may better be " O chaste goddess of the woodes green, To have vict'ry of them, or they of me, To whom both heav'n and earth and sea is seen, So that I have my lady in mine arms. Queen of the realm of Pluto dark and low, For though so be that Mars is god of arms, Goddess of maidens, that mine heart hast know Your virtue is so great in heaven ab6ve, Full many a year, and wost 20 what I desire, That, if you list, I shall well have my love. So keep me from the vengeance of thine ire, Thy temple will I worship evermo', That Actaeon abought 21 cruelly: And on thine altar, where I ride or go, Chaste goddess, well wottest thou that I I will do sacrifice, and fires bete.7 Desire to be a maiden all my life, And if ye will not so, my lady sweet, Nor never will I be no love nor wife. Then pray I you, to-morrow with a spear I am, thou wost,20 yet of thy company, That Arcita me through the hearte bear. A maid, and love hunting and venery,2 Then reck I not, when I have lost my life, And for to walken in the woodes wild, Though that Arcita win her to his wife. And not to be a wife, and be with child. This is th' effect and end of my prayere,- Nought will I know the company of man. Give me my love, thou blissful lady dear." Now help me, lady, since ye may and can, When th' orison was done of Palamon, For those three form6s 23 that thou hast in thee. His sacrifice he did, and that anon, And Palamon, that hath such love to me, Full piteously, with alle circumstances, And eke Arcite, that loveth me so sore, All tell I not as now 8 his observances. This grace I praye thee withouti more, But at the last the statue of Venus shook, As sendi love and peace betwixt them two: And made a signi, whereby that he took 9 And from me turn away their heartes so, ^ That his prayer accepted was that day. That all their hote love, and their desire, For though the signe shewed a delay,l0 And all their busy torment, and their fire, Yet wist he well that granted was his boon; Be queint,2 or turn'd into another place. And with glad heart he went him home full soon. And if so be thou wilt do me no grace, The third hour unequal 1 that Palamon Or if my destiny be shapen so Began to Venus' temple for to gon, That I shall needes have one of them two, Up rose the sun, and up rose Emily, So send me him that most desireth me. And to the temple of Dian gan hie. Behold, goddess of cleane chastity, Her maidens, that she thither with her lad,12 The bitter tears that on my cheekes fall. Full readily with them the fire they had, Since thou art maid, and keeper of us all, 1 Take pity on. 14 Gentle. 15 Except. 2 Certainly, truly; German, "gewiss." 16 Pleasure. 17 Do as he will. 3 Vow, promise. 18 Of the species of oak which Pliny, in his "Natural 4 Care not to boast of feats of arms. History," calls " cerrus." 5 Praise, esteem for valour. 19 Statius, the Roman poet, who embodied in the 6 Whether. 7 Make, kindle, twelve books of his "-Thebaid" the ancient legends 8 Although I tell not now. 9 Understood. connected with the war of the Seven against Thebes. 10 Was not immediately vouchsafed. 20 Knowest. 11 In the third planetary hour; Palamon had gone 21 Earned; suffered from. forth in the hour of Venus, two hours before daybreak; 22 Field sports. the hour of Mercury intervened; the third hour was 23 Diana was Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, and that of Luna, or Diana. "Unequal" refers to the Hecate in hell; hence the direction of the eyes of her astrological division of day and night; whatever their statue to "Pluto's dark region." Her statue was set duration, into twelve parts, which of necessity varied up where three ways met, so that with a different face in length with the season. 12 Led. she looked down each of the three; from which she was 13 Draping; hence the word "smock;"'"smokless," called Trivia. See the quotation from Horace. note in Chaucer, means naked. 17, page 37. 24 Quenched 40 THE CANTERBURY TALES. My maidenhead thou keep and well conserve, Of fairS younge Venus, fresh and free, And, while I live, a maid I will thee serve." And haddest her in armis at thy will: The fires burn upon the altar clear, And though thee ones on a time misfill,l7 While Emily was thus in her pray6re: When Vulcanus had caught thee in his las,18 But suddenly she saw a sighte quaint.1 And found thee ligging19 by his wife, alas! For right anon one of the fires queint For thilke sorrow that was in thine heart, And quick'd 2 again, and after that anon Have ruth 20 as well upon my paine's smart. That other fire was queint, and all agone: I am young and unconning, 21 as thou know'st, And as it queint, it made a whisteling, And, as I trow,22 with love offended most, As doth a brande wet in its burning. That e'er was any living creature: And at the brandEs end outran anon For she, that doth 23 me all this woe endure, As it were bloody droppis many one: Ne recketh ne'er whether I sink or fleet.24 For which so sore aghast was Emily, And well I wot, ere she me mercy hete,25 That she was well-nigh mad, and gan to cry, I must with strengths win her in the place: For she ne wist6 what it signified; And well I wot, withoutd help or grace But onely for feare thus she cried, Of thee, ne may my strengths not avail: And wept, that it was pity for to hear. Then help me, lord, to-morr'w in my bataille, And therewithal Diana gan appear -For thilke fire that whilom burned thee, With bow in hand, right as an hunteress, As well as this fire that now burneth me; And saide; "Daughter, stint 3 thine heavi- And do 26 that I to-morr'w may have victory. ness. Mine be the travail, all thine be the glory. Among the goddis high it is affirm'd, Thy sovereign temple will I most honour And by eternal word writ and confirm'd, Of any place, and alway most labotr Thou shalt be wedded unto one of tho 4 In thy pleasance and in thy craftes strong. That have for thee so muche care and woe: And in thy temple I will my banner hong,27 But unto which of them I may not tell. And all the arm6s of my company, Farewell, for here I may no longer dwell. And evermore, until that day I die, The fires which that on mine altar brenn,5 Eternal fire I will before thee find. Shall thee declaren, ere that thou go henne,6 And eke to this my vow I will me bind: Thine fiventure of love, as in this case." My beard, my hair that hangeth long adown, And with that word, the arrows in the case 7 That never yet hath felt offensi6n 28 Of the goddess did clatter fast and ring, Of razor nor of shears, I will thee give,__ And forth she went, and made a vanishing, And be thy true servant while I live. For which this Emily astonied was, Now, lord, have ruth upon my sorrows sore, And saide; " What amounteth this,8 alas! Give me the victory, I ask no more." I put me under thy protection, The prayer stint29 of Arcita the strong, Diane, and in thy disposition." The ringes on the temple door that hong, And home she went anon the next6 9 way. And eke the doores, clattered full fast, This is th' effect, there is no more to say. Of which Arcita somewhat was aghast. The next6 hour of Mars following this The fires burn'd upon the altar bright, Arcite to the temple walked is That it gan all the temple for to light; Of fierce Mars, to do his sacrifice A sweete smell anon the ground up gaf,30 With all the rites of his pagan guise. And Arcita anon his hand up haf,31 With piteous 0 heart and high devotion. And more incense into the fire he cast, Right thus to Mars he said his orison. With other rites more, and at the last " stronge god, that in the regnes 1 cold The statue of Mars began his hauberk ring; Of Thrace honoured art, and lord y-hold,l2 And with that sound he heard a murmuring And hast inevery regne, and every land Full low and dim, that saide thus, "VicOf armes all the bridle in thine hand, tory." And them fortfinest as thee list devise,13 For which he gave to Mars honour and glory. Accept of me my piteous sacrifice. And thus with joy, and hopd well to fare, If so be that my youthe may deserve, Arcite anon unto his inn doth fare, And that my might be worthy for to serve As fain32 as fowl is of the brightE sun. Thy godhead, that I may be one of thine, And right anon such strife there is begun Then pray I thee to rue upon my pine,14 For thilkd granting,33 in the heav'n above, For thilke 1 pain, and thilke hote fire, Betwixti Venus the godd6ss of love, In which thou whilom burned'st for desire And Mars the sternB god armipotent, Whenni that thou usedest 16 the beauty That Jupiter was busy it to stent: 4 1 Strange.' 2 Went out and revived. 3 Cease. caught Ares and the faithless Aphrodite, and exposed 4 Those. 5 Burn. 6 Hence. 7 Quiver. them to the "inextinguishable laughter" of Olympus. 8 To what does this amount? 9 Nearest. 19 Lying. 20 Pity. 21 Ignorant, simple. 10 Imploring, pious. 11 Realms. 12 Held. 22 Believe. 23 Causeth. 24 Float, swim. 13 Sendest fortune at thy pleasure. 25 Promise, vouchsafe. 26 Cause. 14 Pity my anguish. 15 That. 27 Hang. 28 The offence, indignity. 16 Didst enjoy; Latin, "utor." 29 Ended. 30 Arose from the ground. 17 Thou wert unlucky. 31 Heaved, lifted. 82 Glad. s1 Net, snare; the invisible toils in which Hephaestus 33 That concession of Arcite's prayer. 34 Stop. THE KNIGHT'S TALE. 4E Till that the pale Saturnus the cold,1 So uncouth 17 and so rich, and wrought so weel That knew so many of adventures old, Of goldsmithry, of brouding,18 and of steel; Found in his old experience such an art, The shieldes bright, the testers,ls and trapThat he full soon hath pleased every part. pures; 20 As sooth is said, eld2 hath great advantage, ld-hewen helmets, hauberks, coat-armures; In eld is bothe wisdom and usage: ordes in parements 21 on their cours6rs, Men may the old out-run, but not out-rede.4 Knightes of retinue, and eke squiers, Saturn anon, to stint the strife and drede, Nailing the spears, and helm6s buckdling, Albeit that it is against his kind, Gniding 22 of shieldes, with lainers23 lacing; " Of all this strife gan a remedy find. There as need is, they were nothing idle: " My deare daughter Venus," quoth Saturn, The foamy steeds upon the golden bridle "' My course,9 that hath so wide for to turn, Gnawing, and fast the armourers also Hath more power than wot any man. With file and hammer pricking to and fro; Mine is the drowning in the sea so wan; Yeomen on foot, and knaves24 many one Mine is the prison in the darke cote,6 With shortd staves, thick as they may gon; 25 Mine the strangling and hanging by the throat, Pipes, trumpets, nakeres,26 and clariouns, The murmur, and the churlish rebelling, That in the battle blowe bloody souns; The groyning,7 and the privy poisoning. The palace full of people up and down, I do vengeance and plein 8 correction, Here three, there ten, holding their questioun,27 While I dwell in the sign of the li6n. Divining 28 of these Theban knightes two. Mine is the ruin of the highe halls, Some saiden thus, some said it shall be so; The falling of the towers and the walls Some helden with him with the blacke beard, Upon the miner or the carpenter: Some with the balled,29 some with the thickI slew Samson in shaking the pillar: hair'd; Mine also be the maladies cold, Some said he looked grim, and woulde fight: The darke treasons, and the castes 9 old: He had a sparth 30 of twenty pound of weight. My looking is the father of pestilence. Thus was the halle full of divining 28 Now weep no more, I shall do diligence Long after that the sunnd gan up spring. That Palamon, that is thine owen knight, The great Theseus that of his sleep is waked Shall have his lady, as thou hast him hight.l0 With minstrelsy, and noise that was maked, Though Mars shall help his knight, yet natheless Held yet the chamber of his palace rich, Betwixte you there must sometime be peace: Till that the Theban knightes both y-lich 31 All be ye not of one complexi6n, Honofred were, and to the palace fet.32 That each day causeth such divisi6n. Duke Theseus is at a window set, I am thine ayel,l ready at thy will; Array'd right as he were a god in throne: Weep now no more, I shall thy lust12 fulfil." The people presseth thitherward full soon Now will I stenten 13 of the gods above, Him for to see, and do him reverence, Of Mars, and of Venus, goddess of love, And eke to hearken his best 33 and his sentence.3 And telle you as plainly as I can An herald on a scaffold made an 0,35 The great effect, for which that I began. Till the noise of the people was y-do:36 Great was the feast in Athens thilkd 14 day; And when he saw the people of noise all still, And eke the lusty season of that May Thus shewed he the mighty Duke's will. Made every wight to be in such pleasance, " The lord hath of his high discretion That all that Monday jousten they and dance, Considered that it were destruction And spenden it in Venus' high service. To gentle blood, to fighten in the guise But by the cause that they shoulde rise Of mortal battle now in this emprise: Larly a-morrow for to see that fight, Wherefore to shape37 that they shall not die, Unto their reste wente they at night. He will his firste purpose modify. And on the morrow, when the day gan spring, No man therefore, on pain of loss of life, Of horse and harness 5 noise and clattering' No manner38 shot, nor poleaxe, nor short knife There was in the hostelries all about: Into the lists shall send, or thither bring. And to the palace rode there many a rout 6 Nor short sword for to stick with point biting Of lordes, upon steedes and palfreys. No man shall draw, nor bear it by his side. There mayst thou see devising of harness And no man shall unto his fellow ride I Here, as in "Mars the Red," we have the person 19 Head-pieces, helmets; from the French, "teste," of the deity endowed with the supposed quality of the " tte," head. 20 Trappings. planet called after his name. 21 Ornamental garb; French, "parer," to deck. 2 Age. 3 Experience. 22 Rubbing,polishing; Anglo-Saxon "gnidan," to rub. 4 Surpass in counsel; outwit. 23 Thongs; compare'lanyards." 24 Servants. 5 Orbit; the astrologers ascribed great power to 25 As close as they can walk. Saturn, and predicted "much debate" under his as- 26 Drums, used in the cavalry: Boccaccio's word is cendancy; hence it was "against his kind" to corn- nachere." 27 Conversation. 28 Conjecturing. pose the heavenly strife. 29 Bald. 30 Double-headed axe; Latin, "bipennis." 6 Cottage, cell. 7 Discontent. 8 Full. 31 Alike. 32 Fetched, brought. 9 Contrivances, plots. 10 Promised. 33 Behest, command. 34 Discourse. 11 Grandfather; French, "aleul." 12 Pleasure. 35 "Ho I ho!" to command attention; like " Oyez," 13 Cease speaking. 14 That. 15 Armour. the call for silence in law-courts or before proclamations. 16 Train, retinue. 17 Rare. 18 Embroidering. 36 Done. 37 Arrange, contrive. 39 Wind of. 42 THE CANTERBURY TALES. But one course, with a sharp y-grounden spear: There shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick; Foinl if him list on foot, himself to wear.2 He feeleth through the hearte-spoonl7 the prick. And he that is at mischief 3 shall be take, Up spring the speares twenty foot on height; And not slain, but be brought unto the stake, Out go the swordes as the silver bright. That shall be ordained on either side; The helmes they to-hewen, and to-shred;18 Thither he shall by force, and there abide. Out burst the blood, with sterne streamis red. And if so fall4 the chiefetain be take With mighty maces the bones they to-brest.19 On either side, or ellis slay his make,5 He through the thickest of the throng gan No longer then the tourneying shall last. threst.20 God speede you; go forth and lay on fast. There stumble steedes strong, and down go all. With long sword and with mace fight your fill. He rolleth under foot as doth a ball. Gd now your way; this is the lordS's will." He foineth2l on his foe with a trunchoun, The voice of the people touched the heaven, And he him hurtleth with his horse adown. So loude cried they with merry steven: 6 He through the body hurt is, and sith take,22 " God save such.a lord that is so good, Maugr6 his head, and brought unto the stake, He willeth no destruction of blood." As forword23 was, right there he must abide. Up go the trumpets and the melody, Another led is on that other side. And to the listis rode the company And sometime doth 24 them Theseus to rest, By ordinance,7 throughout the city large, Them to refresh, and drinken if them lest.25 Hanged with cloth of gold, and not with sarge.8 Full oft a day have thilke26 Thebans two Full like a lord this noble Duke gan ride, Together met, and wrought each other woe: And these two Thebans upon either side: Unhorsed hath each other of them tway.27 And after rode the queen and Emily, There was no tiger in the vale of Galaphay,28 And after them another company When that her whelp is stole, when it is lite,29 Of one and other, after their degree. So cruel on the hunter, as Arcite And thus they passed thorough that city, For jealous heart upon this Palamon: And to the listes came they by time: Nor in Belmarie 30 there is no fell li6n, It was not of the day yet fully prime.9 That hunted is, or for his hunger wood,31 When set was Theseus full rich and high, Nor of his prey desireth so the blood, Hippolyta the queen, and Emily, As Palamon to slay his foe Arcite. And other ladies in their degrees about, The jealous strokes upon their helmets bite; Unto the seatis presseth all the rout. Out runneth blood on both their sides red, And westward, through the gates under Mart, Sometime an end there is of every deed. Arcite, and eke the hundred of his part, For ere the sun unto the reste went, With banner red, is enter'd right anon; The stronge king Emetrius gan hent 32 And in the selve l moment Palamon Ths Palamon, as he fought with Arcite, Is, under Venus, eastward in the place, And made his sword deep in his flesh to bite, With banner white, and hardy cheer' and face. And by the force of twenty is he take, In all the world, to seeken up and down, Unyielding, and is drawn unto the stake.,So even12 without variatiofin And in the rescue of this Palamon There were such companies never tway. The stronge king Licurgus is borne down: For there was none so wise that coulde say And king Emetrius for all his strength That any had of other fvantfge Is borne out of his saddle a sword's length, Of worthiness, nor of estate, nor age, So hit him Palamon ere he were take: So even were they chosen for to guess. But all for nought; he was brought to the stake: And in two ranges faire they them dress.l3 His hardy hearte might him helpe naught, When that their names read were every one, He must abide, when that he was caught, That in their number guile14 were there none, By force, and eke by compositi6n.33 Then were the gates shut, and cried was loud; Who sorroweth now but woful Palamon "Do now your devoir, youngi knights proud!" That must no more go again to fight? The heralds left their pricking'5 up and down. And when that Theseus had seen that sight, Now ring the trumpet loud and clarioun. Unto the folk that foughte thus each one, There is no more to say, but east and west He cried, "Ho! no more, for it is done! In go the speares sadlyl6 in the rest; I will be true judge, and not party. In go the sharpe spurs into the side. Arcite of Thebes shall have Emily, There see men who can joust, and who can ride. That by his fortune hath her fairly won." 1 Fence, thrust. 2 Defend. 18 Strike in pieces; "to" before a verb implies exs In peril or distress. 4 Happen. traordinary violence in the action denoted. 5 His equal, match. 6 Sound. 19 Burst, shatter. 7 In orderly array. 8 Serge, woollen cloth. 20 Push his way; " he " refers impersonally to any of 9 First quarter, between six and nine A.M. the combatants. 21 Thrusteth. 10 Same, self-same; German, "derselbe." 22 Afterwards taken. 23 Covenant. 24 Caused. 11 Bold demeanour. 12 Equal. 25 Pleased. 26 Those. 27 Twice. 13 Arrange themselves in two ranks or rows. 28 Galapha, in Mauritania. 29 Little. 14 Fraud. 15 Spurring, riding. 30 See note 3, page 18. 81 Mad. 16 Steadily. 32 Seize, assail. 17 Concave part of breast, where lower ribs join car- 33 By the bargain, that whoever was brought to the tilago ensiformis. stake, or barrier, should be out of the fight. THE KNIGHT'S TALE. 43 Anon there is a noise of people gone, And made revel all the long~ night, For joy of this, so loud and high' withal, Unto the strange lord's, as was right. It seemed that the listes shouldi fall Nor there was holden no discomforting, What can now faire Venus do above? But as at jousts or at a tourneying; What saith she now? what doth this queen of For soothly there was no discomfiture, love? For falling is not but an Aventure.20 But weepeth so, for wanting of her will, Nor to be led by force unto a stake Till that her teares in the listes fill: 1 Unyielding, and with twenty knighs y-take She said: " I am ashamed doubteless." One person all alone, withouten mo', Saturnus saide: "Daughter, hold thy peace. And harried 21 forth by armes, foot, and toe, Mars hath his will, his knight hath all his boon, And eke his steedi driven forth with staves, And by mine head thou shalt be eased 2 soon." With footmen, bothe yeomen and eke knaves,22 The trumpeters with the loud minstrelsy, It was aretted 23 him no villainy: The heralds, that full loude yell and cry, There may no man clepen it cowardy.24 Be in their joy for weal of Dan 3 Arcite. For which anon Duke Theseus let cry,-25 But hearken me, and stinte noise a lite,4 To stenten26 all rancour and envy,What a miracle there befell anon. The gree 27as well on one side as the other, This fierce Arcite hath off his helm y-done, And either side alike, as other's brother: And on a courser for to shew his face And gave them giftes after their degree, He pricketh endelong 5 the large place, And held a feaste fully dayes three: Looking upward upon this Emily,; And conveyed the kinges worthily And she again him cast a friendly eye Out of his town a journ6e 28 largely. (For women, as to speaken in commine,6 And home went every man the righte way, They follow all the favour of fortune), There was no more but " Farewell, Have good And was all his in cheer, as his in heart. day." Out of the ground a fire infernal start, Of this bathille I will no more indite, From Pluto sent, at request of Saturn, But speak of Palamon and of Arcite. For which his horse for fear began to turn, Swelleth the breast of Arcite, and the sore And leap aside, and founder 8 as he leap: Increaseth at his hearte more and more. And ere that Arcite may take any keep,9 The clotted blood, for any leache-craft,29 He pight him on the pummel 0 of his head, Corrupteth, and is in his bouk y-laft,30 That in the place he lay as he were dead, That neither veine-blood nor ventousing,31 His breast to-bursten with his saddle-bow. Nor drink of herbes may be his helping. As black he lay as any coal or crow, The virtue expulsive or animal, So was the blood y-run into his face. / From thilkd virtue called natural, Anon he was y-borne out of the place / Nor may the venom voide, nor expel. With hearte sore, to Theseus' palace. The pipes of his lungs began to swell, Then was he carven 1 out of his harn6s, And every lacert 32 in his breast adown And in a bed y-brought full fair and blive,l2 Is shent 33 with venom and corruptiofn. For he was yet in mem'ry and alive, Him gaineth 34 neither, for to get his lifes And always crying after Emily. Vomit upward, nor downward laxative; Duke Theseus, with all his company, All is to-bursten thilke regi6n; Is come home to Athens his city, Nature hath now no dominati6n. With alle bliss and great solemnity. And certainly where nature will not wirch,35 Albeit that this aventure was fall,13 Farewell physic; go bear the man to chirch.36 He woulde not disc6mfort 14 them all. This all and some is, Arcite must die. Men said eke, that Arcite should not die, For which he sendeth after Emily, He should be healed of his malady. And Palamon, that was his cousin dear. And of another thing they were as fain,l5 Then said he thus, as ye shall after hear. That of them alle was there no one slain, " Nought may the woful spirit in mine heart All 6 were they sorely hurt, and namely 17 one, Declare one point of all my sorrows' smart That with a spear was thirled 18 his breast-bone. To you, my lady, that I love the most; To other woundes, and to broken arms, But I bequeath the service of my ghost 37 Some hadden salves, and some hadden charms: To you aboven every creature, And pharmacies of herbs, and eke save19 Since that my life ne may no longer dure. They dranken, for they would their lives have. Alas the woe! alas, the paines strong For which this noble Duke, as he well can, That I for you have suffered, and so long! Comf6rteth and honoureth every man, Alas the death! alas, mine Emily! 1 Fell. 2 Contented. 3 Lord. 4 Keep silence. 20 Chance, accident. 21 Dragged, hurried. 5 Rides from end to end. 6.Generally speaking. 22 Servants. 23 Imputed to him as no disgrace. 7 Countenance, outward show. 8 Stumble. 24 Call it cowardice. 25 Caused to be proclaimed. 9 Care. 10 Pitched him on the top. 11 Cut. 26 Stop. 27 Prize, merit. 28 Day's journey. 12 Quickly; "belive" is still used in Scotland to'29 Surgical skill. 30 Left in his body. mean by and by, immediately. 13 Befallen. 31 Neither opening veins nor cupping; French, 14 Discourage. 15 Glad. 16 Although. "ventouser," to cup. 32 Sinew muscle. 17 Especially. 18 Pierced. 33 Destroyed. 34 Availeth. 35 Work. 19 The herb sage; Latin, "salvia," 36 Church. 87 Spirit. 44 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Alas departing of our company! For him there weepeth bothe child and man. Alas, mine heart6's queen! alas, my wife! So great a weeping was there none certain, Mine hearte's lady, ender of my life! When Hector was y-brought, all fresh y-slain, What is this world? what aske men to have? To Troy: alas! the pity that was there, Now with his love, now in his colde grave Scratching of cheeks, and rending eke of hair. Alone, withouten any company. " Why wouldest thou be dead?" these women Farewell, my sweet, farewell, mine Emily, cry, And softly take me in your armes tway, "And haddest gold enough, and Emily." For love of God, and hearken what I say. No manner man might gladden Theseus, I have here with my cousin Palamon Saving his olde father Egeus, Had strife and rancour many a day agone, That knew this world6's transmutatioun, For love of you, and for my jealousy. As he had seen it changen up and down, And Jupiter so wis my soule gie,2 Joy after woe, and woe after gladness; To speaken of a servant properly, And shewed him example and likeness. With alle circumstances truely, " Right as there died never man," quoth he, That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead, " That he ne liv'd in earth in some degree,12 Wisdom, humbless,3 estate, and high kindred, Right so there lived never man," he said, Freedom, and all that longeth to that art, " In all this world, that sometime he not died. So Jupiter have of my soule part, This world is but a throughfare full of woe, As in this world right now I know not one, And we be pilgrims, passing to and fro: So worthy to be lov'd as Palamon, Death is an end of every worldly sore." That serveth you, and will do all his life. And over all this said he yet much more And if that you shall ever be a wife, To this effect, full wisely to exhort Forget not Palamon, the gentle man." The people, that they should them recomf6rt. And with that word his speech to fail began. Duke Theseus, with all his busy cure,l3 For from his feet up to his breast was come Casteth about,l4 where that the sepulture The cold of death, that had him overnome.4 Of good Arcite may best y-maked be, And yet moreover in his armes two And eke most honourable in his degree. The vital strength is lost, and all ago.5 And at the last he took conclusi6n, Only the intellect, withoute more, That there as first Arcite and Palamon That dwelled in his hearte sick and sore, Hadde for love the battle them between, Gan faile, when the heartU felte death; That in that selve 15 grove, sweet and green, Dusked 6 his eyen two, and fail'd his breath. There as he had his amorous desires, But on his lady yet he cast his eye; His c6mplaint, and for love his hote fires, His laste word was; " Mercy, Emily!" He would6 make a fire,l6 in which th' office His spirit changed house, and wente there, Of funeral he might all accomplice; As I came never I cannot tell where.7 And let anon command 7 to hack and hew Therefore I stent,8 I am no divinister;9 The oakes old, and lay them on a rew 1 Of soulds find I nought in this register. In culpons,l9 well arrayed for to brenne.'0 Ne me list not th' opinions to tell His officers with swifte feet they renne 21 Of them, though that they writen where they And ride anon at his commandement. dwell; And after this, Duke Theseus hath sent Arcite is cold, there Mars his souli gie.l0 After a bier, and it all oversprad Np will I speake forth of Emily. With cloth of gold, the richest that he had; /Shriek'd Emily, and howled Palamon, And of the samU suit he clad Arcite. And Theseus his sister took anon Upon his handes were his gloves white, Swooning, and bare her from the corpse away. Eke on his head a crown of laurel green, What helpeth it to tarry forth the day, And in his hand a sword full bright and keen. To telle how she wept both eve and morrow? He laid him bare the visage 22 on the bier, For in such cases women have such sorrow, Therewith he wept, that pity was to hear. // When that their husbands be from them y-go,l And, for the people shoulde see him all, That for the mor6 part they sorrow so, When it was day he brought them to the hall, Or elles fall into such malady, That roareth of the crying and the soun'.23 That at the laste certainly they die. Then came this woful Theban, Palamon, Infinite be the sorrows and the tears With sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs,24 Of olde folk, and folk of tender years, In clothUs black, y-dropped all with tears, In all the town, for death of this Theban: And (passing over weeping Emily) 1 The severance. 2 So surely guide my soul. 13 Care; Latin, " cura." 14 Deliberates. 3 Humility. 4 Overtaken, overcome. 15 Self-same. 16 A funeral pyre. 5 Gone. 6 Grew dim. 17 Caused orders straightway to be given. 7 Went whither I cannot tell you, as I was never 18 Row. 19 Logs, pieces. there. 20 Well arranged to burn. 21 Run. 8 Refrain. Tyrwhitt thinks that Chaucer is sneer- 22 With face uncovered. ing at Boccaccio's pompous account of the passage of 23 Made by the people who saw him lie in state. Arcite's soul to heaven. Up to this point, the descrip- 24 With neglected beard, and rough hair strewn with tion of the death-scene is taken literally fron the ashes. "Flotery" is the general reading; but "slut" Theseida." 9 Diviner; or divine. tery " seems to be more in keeping with the picture of 10 Guide. 11 Gone. 12 Rank, condition, abandonment to grief. ThPAr i'NIGHTA'S ALE. 45 The ruefullest of all the company. And then with greene wood and spicery,20 And inasmuch as1 the service should be And then with cloth of gold and with pierrie,21 The more noble and rich in its degree, And garlands hanging with full many a flower, Duke Theseus let forth three steedes bring, The myrrh, the incense with so sweet odofr; That trapped were in steel all glittering. Nor how Arcita lay among all this, And covered with the arms of Dan Arcite. Nor what richess about his body is; Ullpn these steedes, that were great and white, Nor how that Emily, as was the guise, There satte folk, of whom one bare his shield, Put in 22 the fire of funeral service; Another his spear in his handis held; Nor how she swooned when she made the fire, The thirde bare with him his bow Turkeis,2 Nor what she spake, nor what was her desire; Of brent 3 gold was the case4 and the harness: Nor what jewels men in the fire then cast And ride forth a pace with sorrowful cheer 5 When that the fire was great and burned fast; Toward the grove, as ye shall after hear. Nor how some cast their shield, and some their The noblest of the Greekes that there were spear, Upon their shoulders carried the bier, And of their vestiments, which that they With slacke pace, and eyen red and wet, wear, Throughout the city, by the master street,6 And cuppis full of wine, and milk, and blood, That spread was all with black, and wondrous Into the fire, that burnt as it were wood;23 high Nor how the Greek's with a hug6 rout 24 Right of the same is all the street y-wrie.7 Three times riden all the fire about Upon the right hand went old Egeus, Upon the left hand, with a loud shouting, And on the other side Duke Theseus, And thri&s with their speares clattering; With vessels in their hand of gold full fine, And thriis how the ladies gan to cry; All full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine; Nor how that led was homeward Emily; Eke Palamon, with a great company; Nor how Arcite is burnt to ashes cold; And after that came woful Emily, Nor how the lyke-wak 25 was y-hold With fire in hand, as was that time the guise,8 All thilke 26 night, nor how the Greekis play To do th' office of funeral service. The wake-plays,27 ne keep 8 I not to say: High labour, and full great appareling9 Who wrestled best naked, with oil anoint, Was at the service, and the pyre-making, Nor who that bare him best in no disjoint.29 That with its greene top the heaven raught,l0 I will not tell eke how they all are gone And twenty fathom broad its armes straught:1 Home to Athenes when the play is done; This is to say, the boughes were so broad. But shortly to the point now will I wend,30 Of straw first there was laid many a load. Andmaken of my longe tale an end. But how the pyre was maked up on height, By process and by length of certain years And eke the names how the treds hight12 All stinted 31 is the mourning and the tears As oak, fir, birch, asp,13 alder, holm, poplere, Of Greek's, by one general assent. Will'w, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, lind,14 Then seemed me there was a parlement 32 laurre, At Athens, upon certain points and cas: 33 Maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, whipul tree, Amonges the which points y-spoken was How they were fell'd, shall not be told for me; To have with certain countries filliince, Nor how the goddes 15 rannen up and down And have of Thebans full obeisance. Disherited of their habitatioin, For which this noble Theseus anon In which they wonned 16 had in rest and peace, Let 34 send after the gentle Palamon, Nymphes, Faunes, and Hamadryades; Unwist 35 of him what was the cause and why: Nor how the beastes and the birdes all But in his blacke clothes sorrowfully Fledden for fearS, when the wood gan fall; Hle came at his commandment on hie; 36 Nor how the ground aghast 7 was of the light, Then sente Theseus for Emily. That was not wont to see the sunne bright; When they were set,37 and hush'd was all the Nor how the fire was couched18 first with place stre, 19 And Theseus abided 38 had a space And then with dry stickis cloven in three, Ere any word came from his wise breast 1 In order that. 2 Turkish. general; " on the left hand " is added, in reference to 3 Burnished. 4 Quiver. the belief that the left hand was propitious-the Ro5 They ride out slowly-at a foot pace-with sorrow- man augur turning his face southward, and so placing ful air. on his left hand the east, whence good omens came. 6 Main street; so Froissart speaks of "le souverain With the Greeks, however, their augurs facing the carrefour." north, it was just the contrary. The confusion, fre7 Covered, hid; Anglo-Saxon, "wrigan," to veil. quent in classical writers, is complicated here by the 8 Custom. 9 Preparation. 10 Reached. fact that Chaucer's description of the funeral of Arcito 11 Stretched. 12 Ware called. 13 Aspen. is taken from Statius' "Thebaid"-from a Roman's 14 Linden, lime. 5I The forest deities. 16 Dwelt. account of a Greek solemnity. 17 Terrified. 18 Laid. 19 Straw. 25 Watching by the remains of the dead; from Anglo20 Spices. 21 Precious stones; French, "pierreries." Saxon, "lice," a corpse; German, "Leichnam." 22 Applied the funeral torch. The "guise" was, 26 That. 27 Funeralgames. 28 Care. among the ancients, for the nearest relative of the 29 In any danger, contest. 30 Come. 31 Ended. deceased to do this, with averted face. 23 Mad. 32 Assembly for consultation. 33 Cases, incidents. 24 Procession. It was the custom for soldiers to 34 Caused. 35 Unknown. 36 In haste. march thrice around the funeral pile of an emperor or 37 Seated. 38 Waited. 46 TStE CANZERBUR Y TALPS. His eyen set he there as was his lest,1 Then is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, And with a sad visage he sighed still, To make a virtue of necessity, And after that right thus he said his will. And take it well, that we may not eschew,l5 " The firsti mover of the cause above And namely what to is all is due. When he first made the faire chain of love, And whoso grudgeth 6 ought, he doth folly, Great was th' effect, and high was his intent; And rebel is to him that all may gie.l7 Well wist he why, and what thereof he meant: And certainly a man hath most honofr For with that faire chain of love he bond 2 To dien in his excellence and flower, The fire, the air, the water, and the lond When he is sicker 18 of his goode name. In certain bondes, that they may not flee: 3 Thenhath he donehisfriend, norhim,l no shame; That sam6 prince and mover eke," quoth he, And gladder ought his friend be of his death, " Hath stablish'd, in this wretched world adown, When with honofir is yielded up his breath, Certain of dayes and durati6n Than when his name appalled is for age; 20 To all that are engender'd in this place, For all forgotten is his vassalage.21 Over the whiche day they may not pace,4 Then is it best, as for a worthy fame, All5 may they yet their dayes well abridge. To dien when a man is best of name. There needeth no authority to allege The contrary of all this is wilfulness. For it is proved by experience; Why grudge we, why have we heaviness, But that me list declare my sentence.6 That good Arcite, of chivalry the flower, Then may men by this order well discern, Departed is, with duty and honofir, That thilke 7 mover stable is and etern. Out of this foule prison of this life? Well may men know, but that it be a fool, Why grudge here his cousin and his wife That every part deriveth from its whole. Of his welfare, that loved him so well? For nature hath not ta'en its beginning Can he them thank?-nay, God wot, never a Of no partie nor cantle 8 of a thing, deal, —22 But of a thing that perfect is and stable, That both his soul and eke themselves offend,23 Descending so, till it be corruptfble. And yet they may their lustes not amend.24 And therefore of his wise purveyance 9 What may I c6nclude of this longe serie,25\ He hath so well beset 10 his ordinance, But after sorrow I rede 26 us to be merry, That species of things and progressi6ns And thanke Jupiter for all his grace? Shallen endure by successi6ns, And ere that we departe from this place, And not etern, withouten any lie: I rede that we make of sorrows two This mayst thou understand and see at eye. One perfect joyi lasting evermo': Lo th' oak, that hath so long a nourishing And look now where most sorrow is herein, From the time that it'ginneth first to spring, There will I first amenden and begin. *And hath so long a life, as ye may see, " Sister," quoth he, "this is my full assent, Yet at the last y-wasted is the tree. With all th' advice here of my parlement, Consider eke, how that the harde stone That gentle Palamon, your owen knight,'Under our feet, on which we tread and gon,l That serveth you with will, and heart, and Yet wasteth, as it lieth by the way. might, The broadi river some time waxeth drey.l2 And ever hath, since first time ye him knew, The great5 townes see we wane and wend.3 That ye shall of your grace upon him rue,27 Then may ye see that all things have an end. And take him for your husband and your lord:1 Of man and woman see we well also, Lend me your hand, for this is our accord. That needis in one of the termes two,- Let see 28 now of your womanly pity. That is to say, in youth or else in age,- He is a kinge's brother's son, pardie.29 He must be dead, the king as shall a page; And though he were a poore bachelere, Some in his bed, some in the deepe sea, Since he hath served you so many a year, Some in the large field, as ye may see: And had for you so great adversity, There helpeth nought, all go that ilk 14 way: It muste be considered,'lieveth me.30 Then may I say that alle thing must die. For gentle mercy oweth to passen right." 31 What maketh this but Jupiter the king? Then said he thus to Palamon the knight; The which is prince, and cause of alli thing, "I trow there needeth little sermoning Converting all unto his proper will, To make you assente to this thing. From which it is derived, sooth to tell. Come near, and take your lady by the hand." And hereagainst no creature alive, Betwixte them was made anon the band, Of no degree, availeth for to strive. That hight matrimony or marriage, 1 He fixed his eyes where it pleased him. 15 Escape, avoid. 16 Murmurs at. 2 Bound. 17 Direct, guide. 18 Certain. 19 Himself. 3 Chaucer here borrows from Boethius, who says: 20 Grown pale, decayed, by old age. Hanc rerum seriem ligat,.21 Valour, prowess, service. 22 Never a jot, whit. I Terras ac pelagus regens, 23 Hurt. Et ccelo imperitans, amor." 24 Cannot control or amend their desires. 4 Pass. 5 Although. 6 Sentiment, opinion. 25 Series; string of remarks. 26 Counsel. 7 This same. 8 No part or piece..27 Have pity. 28 Make display. 9 Providence; " He" is the'" first mover." 29 By God. 30 Believe me. 10 Arranged, ordered. ii Walk. 12 Dry. 31 Ought to be.rightly directed; "oweth" is the pre. 13 Go, disappear. 14 The same. sent tense, as ought" is the past, of "owe." THE. MILLER'S TALE. 47' By all the counsel of the baronage. Both of a carpenter and of his wife, And thus with alle bliss and melody How that a clerk hath set the wrighte's cap." 19 Hath Palamon y-wedded Emily. The Reeve answ6r'd and saide, "Stint thy And God, that all this wide world hath wrought, clap,20 Send him his love, that hath it dearly bought. Let be thy lewed drunken harlotry. For now is Palamon in all his weal, It is a sin, and eke a great folly Living in bliss, in riches, and in heal;1 To apeiren 2 any man, or him defame, And Emily him loves so tenderly, And eke to bringe wives in evil name. And he her serveth all so gentilly, Thou may'st enough of other thinges sayn." That never was there worde them between This drunken Miller spake full soon again, Of jealousy, nor of none other teen,2 And saide, " Leve brother Osewold, Thus endeth Palamon and Emily; Who hath no wife, he is no cuck6ld. And God save all this faire company. But I say not therefore that thou art one; There be full goode wives many one. Why art thou angry with my tale now? I have a wife, pardie, as well as thou, Yet n'old 22 I, for the oxen in my plough, THE MTILLT"ER'S TALEP Taken upon me more than enough, THE PROLOGUE. To deemen23 of myself that I am one; I will believe well that I am none. WHEN that the Knight had thus his tali told, An husband should not be inquisitive In all the rout was neither young nor old, Of Godde's privity, nor of his wife. That he not said it was a noble story, So he may finde Godde's foison 4 there, And worthy to be drawen to mnem6ry;3 Of the remnant needeth not to enquere." And namily the gentles every one.4 What should I more say, but that this Our Host then laugh'd and swore, "So may I Millere gon,5 He would his wordes for no man forbear, This goes aright; unbuckled is the mail; 6 But told his churlish 25 tale in his mann6re; Let see now who shall tell another tale: Me thinketh, that I shall rehearse it here. For truely this game is well begun. And therefore every gentle wight I pray, Now telleth ye, Sir Monk, if that ye conne,7 For Goddi's love to deem not that I say Somewhat, to quiten 8 with the Knighti's tale." Of evil intent, but that I must rehearse The Miller that fordrunken was all pale,9 Their tales all, be they better or worse, So that unnethes 10 upon his horse he sat, Or ellis falsen 26 some of my matt6re. He would avalen l neither hood nor hat, And therefore whoso list it not-to hear, Nor abide12 no man for his courtesy, Turn o'er the leaf, and choose another tale; But in Pilate's voice 13 he gan to cry, For he shall find enough, both great and smale, And swore by armes, and by blood, and bones, Of storial 27 thing that toucheth gentiless, "I can a noble tale for the nones,14 And eke morality and holiness. With which I will now quite the Knighte's Blame not me, if that ye choose amiss. tale." The Miller is a churl, ye know well this,Our Host saw well how drunk he was of ale, So was the Reeve, with many other o', And said; " Robin, abide, my leve 15 brother, And harlotry 8 they tolde bothe two. Some better man shall tell us first another: Avise you29 now, and put me out of blame; Abide, and let us worke thriftily." 16 And eke men should not make earnest of game.30 " By Godde's soul," quoth he, " that will not I, For I will speak, or elles go my way!" Our Host ansWer'd; " Tell on a devil way;17 THE TLE. Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome." "Now hearken," quoth the Miller, " all and Whilom there was dwelling in Oxenford some: A riche gnof,31 that guest6s held to board,32 But first I make a protestatiofun. And of his craft he was a carpent6r. That I am drunk, I know it by my soun': With him there was dwelling a poor scholer, And therefore if that I misspeak or say, Had learned art, but all his fantasy Wite 18 it the ale of Southwark, I you pray: Was turned for to learn astrology. For I will tell a legend and a life He coude 3 a certain of conclusions 1 Health; German, "Heil." 17 Devil take thee I an oath of impatience. ~ 2 Cause of anger, vexation. 3 Recorded. 18 Blame; in Scotland, "to bear the wyte," is to 4 All the gentler members of the company, in espe- bear the blame. 19 Befooled him. cial. 5 Prosper. 6 The budget is opened. 20 Hold thy tongue; stop thy noisy talk, which is 7 Know how. 8 Match, requite. like the clapper of thy mill. 21 Injure, abuse. 9 Was all pale with drunkenness. 22 Would not. 23 Judge. 24 Abundance. 10 Hardly, with difficulty. 11 Unveil, uncover. 25 Boorish, Fude. 26 Falsify. 12 Await, give way to. 27 Historical, true things. 132Pilate, an unpopular personage in the mystery- 28 Ribald, rough jesting tale.' plays of the middle ages, was probably represented as 29 Consider; be advised. 30 Jest, fun. having a gruff harsh voice. 14 Occasion. 31 Miser; perhaps from Anglo-Saxon, "gnafan, to 15 Dear. 16 Prudently, civilly. gnaw. 32 Took in boarders. 33 Knew. 48' TE CANTERBURY TALES. To deeme 1 by interrogations, A barm-cloth 19 eke as white as morning milk If that men asked him in certain hours, Upon her lendes,20 full of many a gore.21 When that men should have drought or elles White was her smockr and broider'd all before, show'rs: And eke behind, on her collar about Or if men asked him what shouldi fall 6 Of coal-black silk, within and eke without. Of everything, I may not reckon all. t The tapes 23 of her white volupere 24 This clerk was called Hendy 2 Nicholas;' Were of the same suit of her collere; Of derni 3 love he knew and of solace; - Her fillet broad of silk, and set full high: And therewith he was sly and full privy, And' sickerly 2 she had a likerous 26 eye. And like a maiden meekd for to see. Full small y-pulled were her browes two, A chamber had he in that hostelry And they were bent,27 and black as any sloe. Alone, withouten any company, She was well mori blissful on to see 28 Full fetisly y-dight 4 with herbes swoot,5 Than is the newe perjenete 29 tree; And he himself was sweet as is the root And softer than the wool is of a wether. Of liquorice, or any setewall.6 And by her girdle hung a purse of leather, His Almagest,7 and bookes great and small, Tassel'd with silk, and pearled with latoun.30 His astrolabe,8 belonging to his art, In all this world to seeken up and down His augrim stones,9 layed fair apart There is no man so wise, that coudB thenche 31 On shelves couched 10 at his bedde's head, So gay a popelot,32 or such a wench. His press y-cover'd with a faldingl red. Full brighter was the shining of her hue, And all above there lay a gay psalt'ry Than in the Tower the noble 3 forged new. On which he made at nightes melody, But of her song, it was as loud and yern,34 So sweetely, that all the chamber rang: As any swallow chittering on a bern.35 And Angelus ad virginen 12 he sang. Thereto 36 she coulde skip, and make a game,37 And after that he sung the kinge's note; As any kid or calf following his dame. Full often blessed was his merry throat. Her mouth was sweet as braket,38 or as methe,39 And thus this sweete clerk his time spent Or hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath. After his friendes finding and his rent.l3 Wincing40 she was as is a jolly colt, This carpenter had wedded new a wife, Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt. Which that he loved more than his life: A brooch she bare upon her low coll6re, Of eighteen year, I guess, she was of age. As broad as is the boss of a bucklere. Jealous he was, and held her narr'w in cage, Her shoon were laced on her leggds high; For she was wild and young, and he was old, She was a primerole,4 a piggesnie,42 And deemed himself b6lile 14 a cuck6ld. For any lord t' have ligging 43 in his bed, He knew not Cato,15 for his wit was rude, Or yet for any good yeoman to wed. That bade a man wed his similitude. Now, sir, and eft 44 sir, so befell the case, Men shoulde wedden after their estate, That on a day this Hendy 4 Nicholas For youth and eld16 are often at debate. Fell with this younge wife to rage and play,46 But since that he was fallen in the snare, While that her husband was at Oseney,47 He must endure (as other folk) his care. As clerkis be full subtle and full-quaint. Fair was this younge wife, and therewithal And privily he caught her by the queint, As any weasel her body gent 17 and small. And said; " Y-wis,48 but if I have my will, A seint 18 she weared, barred all of silk, For derne 49 love ofthee, leman,50 I spill." 51 1 Determine. 2 Gentle, handsome. 30 Brass, latten, in the shape of pearls. 3 Secret, earnest. 4 Neatly decked. 31 Could fancy, think of. 5 Sweet. 6 Valerian, setwall. 32 Puppet; butterfly; young wench. 7 The book of Ptolemy the astronomer, which 33 The noble new coined in the Tower, where was the formed the canon of astrological science in the middle Mint; nobles were gold coins of especial purity and ages. brightness; "Ex auro nbbilissimi, unde nobilis voca8 " Astrelagour," " astrelabore;" a mathematical tus,"saysVossius. instrument for taking the altitude of the sun or stars. 34 Shrill, lively; German, "gern," willingly, cheerfully. 9,' Augrim" is a corruption of algorithm, the Ara- 35 Barn. 36 In addition to all this. 37 Romp. bian term for numeration; "augrim stones," there- 38 Bragget, a sweet drink made of honey, spices, &c. fore, were probably marked with numerals, and used In some parts of the country, a drink made from as counters. 10 Laid, set. 11 Coarse cloth. honeycomb, after the honey is extracted, is still called 12 The Angel's salutation to Mary; Luke i. 28. It "bragwort." 39 Metheglin, mead. was the " Ave Maria " of the Catholic Church service. 40 Wanton, skittish. 41 Primrose. 13 Attending to his friends, and providing for the cost 42 A fond term, like " my duck;" from Anglo-Saxon, of his lodging. 14 Perhaps. "piga," a young maid; but Tyrwhitt associates it with 15 Though Chaucer may have referred to the famous the Latin, "ocellus," little eye, a fondling term, and Censor, more probably the reference is merely to the suggests that the "pig's-eye," which is very small, was " Moral Distichs," which go under his name, though applied in the same sense. Davenport and Butler both written after his time; and in a supplement to which use the word pigsnie, the first for "darling," the second the quoted passage may be found. literally for "eye;" and Bishop Gardner, "On True 16 Age. 17 Slim, neat. 18 Girdle, with silk stripes. Obedience," in his address to the reader, says: " How 19 Apron; from Anglo-Saxon " barme," bosom or lap. softly she was wont to chirpe him under the chin, and 20 Loins. 21 Plait, fold. kiss him; how prettily she could talk to him (how doth 22 Not the underdress, but the robe or gown. my sweet heart, what saith now pig's-eye)." 23 Strings. 43 Lying. 44 Again. 24 Head-gear, kerchief; from French, "envelopper," 45 Courteous. 46 Toy; play the rogue. to wrap up. 25 Certainly. 47 A once well-known abbey near Oxford. 26 Lascivious, liquorish. 27 Arched. 48 Assuredly. 49 Earnest, cruel. 28 Pleasant to look upon. 29 Young pear-tree, 50 My mistress. 51 Die, perish. — r-,-. — — ~ —-— 1 -—. ---- ------—.50 —---- My mi-re THE MILLER'S TALE. 49 And helde her fast by the haunche bones, And with his leggis caste to and fro; And saide, " Leman, love me well at once, And playen songes on a small ribible; 18 Or I will dien, all so God me save." Thereto he sung sometimes a loud quinible.l9 And she sprang as a colt doth in the trave: 1 And as well could he play on a gitrn.20 And with her head she writhed fast away, In all the town was brewhouse nor tavern, And said; " I will not kiss thee, by my fay.2 That he not visited with his solas,2 Why let be," quoth she, " let be, Nicholas, There as that any gaillard tapstere 22 was. Or I will cry out harow and alas! 3 But sooth to say he was somedeal squaimous 23 Do away your handes, for your courtesy.",i Of farting, and of speeche dangerous. This Nicholas gan mercy for to cry, This Absolon, that jolly was and gay, And spake so fair, and preffer'd him so fast, Went with a censer on the holy day, That she her love him granted at the last, Censing4 the wives of the parish fast; And swore her oath by Saint Thomas of Kent, And many a lovely look he on them cast, That she would be at his commandement, And namely 25 on this carp6nter's wife: When that she may her leisure well espy. To look on her him thought a merry life. " My husband is so full of jealousy, She was so proper, and sweet, and likerous. That but 4 ye waite well, and be privy, I dare well say, if she had been a mouse, I wot right well I am but dead," quoth she. And he a cat, he would her bent anon.26 " Ye muste be full derne 5 as in this case." This parish clerk, this jolly Absolon, " Nay, thereof care thee nought," quoth Nicho- Hath in his hearte such a love-longing! las: That of no wife took he none offering; " A clerk had litherly beset his while,, For courtesy he said he woulde none. But if 4 he could a carpenter beguile." The moon at night full clear and brighte shone, And thus they were accorded and y-sworn And Absolon his gitern hath y-taken, To wait a time, as I have said beforn. For paramours he thoughte for to waken, When Nicholas had done thus every deal,7 And forth he went, jolif 27 and amorous, And thwacked her about the lendes well, Till he came to the carpentred's house, He kiss'd her sweet, and taketh his psalt'ry A little after the cock had y-crow, And playeth fast, and maketh melody. And dressed him 28 under a shot29 window, Then fell it thus, that to the parish church, That was upon the carpentred's wall. Of Christe's owen workis for to wirch,8 He singeth in his voice gentle and small; This good wife went upon a holy day: " Now, dear lady, if thy will be, Her forehead shone as bright as any day, I pray that ye will rue 30 on me;" So was it washen, when she left her werk. Full well accordant to his giterning. Now was there of that church a parish clerk, This carpenter awoke, and heard him sing, The which that was y-cleped Absolon. And spake unto his wife, and said anon, Curl'd was his hair, and as the gold it shone, " What, Alison, hear'st thou not Absolon, And strutted as a fanne large and broad; That chanteth thus under our bower 31 wall2 Full straight and even lay his jolly shode.lo And she answer'd her husband therewithal; His rode 11 was red, his eyen grey as goose, "Yes, God wot, John, I hear him every deal." With Paul's windows carven12 on his shoes. This passeth forth; what will ye bet32 than Inhosen red he went full fetisly.l3 well? Y-clad he was full small and properly, From day to day this jolly Absolon All in a kirtle 4 of a light waget; 15 So wooeth her, that him is woebegone. Full fair and thicke be the pointes set. He waketh all the night, and all the day, And thereupon he had a gay surplice, To comb his lockes broad, and make him gay. As white as is the blossom on the rise.l6 He wooeth her by means and by brocage,3 A merry child he was, so God me save; And swore he woulde be her owen page. %ell could he letten blood, and clip, and shave, He singeth brokking34 as a nightingale. And make a charter of land, and a uitt He sent her piment,35 mead, and spiced ale, In twenty manners could he trip and Lance, And wafers 36 piping hot out of the glede:37 After the school of Oxenforde tho,7 And, for she was of town, he proffer'd meed.38 11 Travise; a frame in which unruly horses were he did the French of Stratford at Bow. See note 25, shod. 2 Faith. page 18. 3 Haro! an old Norman cry for redress or aid. The I8 Rebeck, a kind of fiddle. "Clameur de Haro" was lately raised, under pecu- 19 Treble. 20 Guitar. 21 Mirth, sport. liar circumstances, as the prelude to a legal protest, in 22 Gay, licentious girl that served in a tavern. Jersey. 23 Somewhat squeamish. 24 Burning incense for. 4 Unless. 5 Secret. 6 Ill spent his time. 25 Above all. 26 Have soon caught. 7 Whit. 8 Work. 9 Stretched. 27 Jolly, joyous. 28 Stationed himself. 10 Head of hair. 11 Complexion. 29 Projecting or bow window, whence it was possible 12 His shoes ornamented like the windows of St to shoot at any one approachingthe door. Paul's, especially like the old rose-window. 30 Take pity. 3 Chamber. 32 Better. 13 Daintily, neatly. 33 By presents and by agents, pimping, or brokerage. 14 A gown girt around the waist. 34 Quavering. 15 Sky colour. 35 A drink made with wine, honey, and spices. 16 Twig, bush; German, "Reis," a twig; "Reisig," 36 Cakes. 37 Red-hot coal. a copse. 38 Because she was town-bred, he offered wealth, 17 Then; Chaucer satirises the dancing of Oxford as or money reward, for her love. D o TTHE CANTERBURY TALES. For some folk will be wonnen for rich6ss, Look how it is, and tell me boldily." And some for strokes, and some with gentiless. This knavd went him up full sturdily, Sometimes, to show his lightness and mast'ry, And, at the chamber door while that he stood, He playeth Herod 1 on a scaffold high. He cried and knocked as that he were wood: But what availeth him as in this case? " What how? what do ye, Master Nicholay? So loveth she the Hendy Nicholas, How may ye sleepen all the longe day?" That Absolon may blow the bucke's horn: 2 But all for nought, he hearde not a word. He had for all his labour but a scorn. An hole he found full low upon the board, And thus she maketh Absolon her ape, There as 9 the cat was wont in for to creep, And all his earnest turneth to a jape.3 And at that hole he looked in full deep, Full sooth is this prov6rb, it is no lie; And at the last he had of him a sight. Men say right thus alway; the nighe sly This Nicholas sat ever gaping upright, Maketh oft time the far lief to be loth.4 As he had kyked20 on the newe moon. For though that Absolon be wood 5 or wroth Adown he went, and told his master soon, Because that he far was from her sight, In what array he saw this ilke21 man. This nigh Nicholas stood still in his light. This carpenter to blissen him22 began, Now bear thee well, thou Hendy Nicholas, And said: " Now help us, Sainte Frideswide.23 For Absolon may wail and sing " Alas!" A man wot 24 little what shall him betide. And so befell, that on a Saturday This man is fall'n with his astronomy This carpenter was gone to Oseney, Into some woodness25 or some agony. And Hendy Nicholas and Alis6n I thought aye well how that it shoulde be. Accorded were to this conclusi6n, Men should know nought of Godde's privity.26 That Nicholas shall shapB him a wile 6 Yea, blessed be alway a lewed 27 man, The silly jealous husband to beguile; That nought but only his believe can.28 And if so were the game went aright, So far'd another clerk with astr6nomy: She shoulde sleepen in his arms all night; He walked in the fieldes for to pry For this was her desire and his also. Upon29 the starres, what there should befall, And right anon, withouti wordis mo', Till he was in a marle pit y-fall.30 This Nicholas no longer would he tarry, He saw not that. But yet, by Saint Thomas! But doth full soft unto his chamber carry Me rueth sore of 31 Hendy Nicholas: Both meat and drinke for a day or tway. He shall be rated of his studying,3 And to her husband bade her for to say, If that I may, by Jesus, heaven's king! If that he asked after Nicholas, Get me a staff, that I may underspore33 She should8 say, " She wist 7 not where he was; While that thou, Robin, heavest off the door: Of all the day she saw him not with eye; He shall out of his studying, as I guess." She trowed 8 he was in some malady, And to the chamber door he gan him dress.34 For no cry that her maiden could him call His knavB was a strong carl for the nonce, He would answer, for nought that might befall." And by the hasp 35 he heav'd it off at once; Thus passed forth all thilk 9 Saturday, Into the floor the door fell down anon. That Nicholas still in his chamber lay, This Nicholas sat aye as still as stone, And ate, and slept, and didde what him list And ever he gap'd upward into the air. Till Sunday, that the sunni went to rest.1 The carpenter ween'd 36 he were in despair, This silly carpenter had great marvail And hent 37 him by the shoulders mightily, Of Nicholas, or what thing might him ail, And shook him hard, and cried spitously; 38 And said; "I am adrad,2 by Saint Thomas! "What, Nicholas? what how, man? look adown: It standeth not aright with Nicholas: Awake, and think on ChristS's passioin. God shielde 13 that he died suddenly. I crouche thee39 from elves, and from wights."40 This world is now full tickle 14 sickerly.l5 Therewith the night-spell said he anon rights,4' I saw to-day a corpse y-borne to chirch, On the four halves 42 of the house about, That now on Monday last I saw him wirch.l6 And on the threshold of the door without. " Go up," quod he unto his knave,l7 "anon; " Lord Jesus Christ, and Sainte Benedight, Clepe 18 at his door, or knocke with a stone: BlessB this house from every wicked wight, 1 Parish-clerks, like Absolon, had leading parts in 24 Knows. 25 Madness. the mysteries or religious plays; Herod was one of 126 Secret counsel. 27 Unlearned. these parts, which may have been an object of compe- 28 Knows no more than his "credo." tition among the amateurs of the period. 29 Watch, keep watch on. 2," May go whistle." 3 Jest. 30 Till he fell into a marl-pit. Plato, in his "Theate4 The cunning one near at hand oft makes the loving tus," tells this story of Thales; but it has since apm one afar off to be odious. 5 Mad. peared in many other forms. 6 Devise a stratagem. 7 Knew. 8 Believed. 31 I am very sorry for. 9 That. 10 Till Sunday evening. 32 Chidden, rated, for his devotion to study. 11 Wondered greatly. 12 Afraid, in dread. 33 Heave up the door by a lever beneath., 13 Heaven forefend! 14 Ticklish, fickle, uncertain. 34 Apply himself. 15 Surely. 16 Work. 17 Servant. 35 Lock; from the Anglo-Saxon, "haepsian," to lock, 18 Call. 19 Where. fasten; German, "Hespe." 20 Looked; "keek" is still used in some parts in the 36 Thought. 37 Caught. 38 Angrily. sense of "peep." 39 Protect thee, by signing the sign of the Cross. 21 Same. 22 To bless, cross himself. 40 Witches, who were not of the feminine gender 3 Saint Frideswide, the patroness of a considerable only. priory at Oxford, and held there in high repute. 41 In due form. 42 Corners, parts. THE MILLER'S TALE. 5 From the night mare, the white Pater-noster; "Yes," quoth thiscarpenter, "full yore ago.?1 Where wonnest thounow, SaintSPeter's sister?" "Hast thou not heard," quoth Nicholas, " alo And at the last this Hendy Nicholas The sorrow of Noe, with his fellowship, Gan for to sigh full sore, and said; " Alas! That he had ere he got his wife to ship? 18 Shall all the world be lost eftsoones 2 now?" Him had been lever,l I dare well undertake, This carpenter answtr'd; " What sayest thou? At thilkl 20 time, than all his wethers black, What? think on God, as we do, men that That she had had a ship herself alone. swink. " And therefore know'st thou what is best to be This Nicholas answer'd; " Fetch me a drink; done? And after will I speak in privity This asketh haste, and of an hasty thing Of certain thing that toucheth thee and me: Men may not preach or make tarrying. I will tell it no other man certain." Anon go get us fast into this inn21 This carpenter went down, and came again, A kneading trough, or else a kemelin,22 And brought of mighty ale a large quart; For each of us; but look that they be large, And when that each of them had drunk his part, In which6 we may swim as in a barge: This Nicholas his chamber door fast shet,4 And have therein vitaille suffisant And down the carpenter by him he set, But for one day; fie on the remenant; And saide; "John, mine host full lief and The water shall aslake23 and go away dear, About6 prime 24 upon the next6 day. Thou shalt upon thy truthe swear me here, But Robin may not know of this, thy knave,5 That to no wight thouishalt my counsel wray: 6 Nor eke thy maiden Gill I may not save: For it is Christe's counsel that I say, Ask me not why: for though thou aske me And if thou tell it man, thou art forlore:7 I will not telll Godde's privity. For this vengeance thou shalt have therefor, Sufficeth thee, but if thy wit be mad,26 That if thou wraye 6 me, thou shalt be wood." To have as great a grace as Noe had; "Nay, Christ forbid it for his holy blood! " Thy wife shall I well saven out of doubt. Quoth then this silly man; " I am no blab,9 Go now thy way, and speed thee hereabout. Nor, though I say it, am I lief to gab. 10 But when thou hast for her, and thee, and me, Say what thou wilt, I shall it never tell Y-gotten us these kneading tlbbis three, To child or wife, by him that harried Hell." 11 Then shalt thou hang them in the roof full high, "Now, John," quoth Nicholas, "I will not lie; So that no man our purveyance27 espy: I have y-found in my astrology, And when thou hast done thus as I have said, As I have looked in the moone bright, And hast our vitaille fair in them y-laid, That now on Monday next, at quarter night, And eke an axe to smite the cord in two Shall fall a rain, and that so wild and wood,8 When that the water comes, that we may go, That never half so great was Noe's flood. And break an hole on high upon the gable' This world," he said, " in less than half an hour Into the garden-ward, over the stable, Shall all be dreint,12 so hideous is the shower: That we may freely pass6 forth our way, Thus shall mankinde drench,i3 and lose their When that the greate shower is gone away. life." Then shalt thou swim as merry, I undertake, This carpenter answr'd; " Alas, my wife! As doth the white duck after her drake: And shall she drench? alas, mine Aliso n! " Then will I clepe, 2'How, Alison? how, John? For sorrow of this he fell almost adown, Be merry: for the flood will pass anon.' And said; "Is there no remedy in this case?" And thou wilt say,'Hail, Master Nicholay, "Why, yes, for God," quoth Hendy Nicholas; Good-morrow, I see thee well, for it is day.' "If thou wilt worken after lore and rede; 4 And then shall we be lordes all our life Thou may'st not worken after thine own head. Of all the world, as Not and his wife. For thus saith Solomon, that was full true: But of one thing I warne thee full right, Work all by counsel, and thou shalt not rue.l1 Be well advised, on that ilke 29 night, And if thou worke wilt by good counseil, When we be enter'd into shipp'es board, I undertake, without6 mast or sail, That none of us not speak a single word, Yet shall I save her, and thee, and me. Nor clepe nor cry, but be in his prayere, Hast thou not heard how saved was Nod, For that is Godde's owen heste 30 dear. When that our Lord had warned him beforn, Thy wife and thou must hangen far atween,31 That all the world with water should be lorn?"16 For that betwixte you shall be no sin, 1 Dwellest. 2 Forthwith, immediately. forth and get him a new wife, because he was laving 3 Labour. 4 Shut. 5 Loved. 6 Betray. her gossips in the town to drown. Shem A4d his 7 Lost; German, "verloren." 8 Mad. brothers got her shipped by main force; aa4 Noah, 9 Talker. 10 Fond of prating. coming forward to welcome her, was greeted with a 11 Wasted or subdued-Hell: in the middle ages, some box on the ear. very active exploits against the Prince of Darkness 19 He would have given all his black wethers, if she and his powers were ascribed by the monkish tale- had had an ark to herself. 20 That. 21 House. tellers to the Saviour after He had "descended into 22 Brewing-tub. 23 Slacken, abate. Hell." 12 Drenched, drowned. 13 Drown. 24 Early forenoon. 25 Servant. 14 Learning and counsel. 15 Repent. 26 Unless thou be out of thy wits. 16 Should perish. 17 Long since. 27 Foresight, providence. 28 Call out. 18 According to the old mysteries, Noah's wife re- 29 Same. 30 Command. fused to come into the ark, and bade her husband row 31 Asunder. 52 THE CANTERBURY TALES. No more in looking than there shall in deed. Fell on this carpenter, right as I guess, This ordinance is said: go, God thee speed. About the curfew-time,l4 or little more, To-morrow night, when men be all asleep, For travail of his ghost 15 he groaned sore, Into our kneading tubbes will we creep, And eft he routed, for his head mislay.16 And sitte there, abiding Godds's grace. Adown the ladder stalked Nicholay; Go now thy way, I have no longer space And Alison full soft adown she sped. To make of this no longer sermoning: Withoute wordes more they went to bed, Men say thus: Send the wise, and say nothing: There as 17 the carpenter was wont to lie: Thou art so wise, it needeth thee nought teach. There was the revel, and the melody. Go, save our lives, and that I thee beseech." And thus lay Alison and Nicholas, This silly carpenter went forth his way, In business of mirth and in solace, Full oft he said, "Alas! and Well-a-day! " Until the bell of laudesl8 gan to ring, And to his wife he told his privity, And friars in the chancel went to sing. And she was ware, and better knew than he This parish clerk, this amorous Absolon, What all this quainte cast was for to say.' That is for love alway so woebegone, But natheless she fear'd as she would dey,2 Upon the Monday was at Oseney And said: " Alas! go forth thy way anon. With company, him to disport and play; Help us to scape, or we be dead each one. And asked upon cas 19 a cloisterer 20 I am thy true and very wedded wife; Full privily after John the carpenter; Go, deari spouse, and help to save our life." And he drew him apart out of the church, Lo, what a great thing is affectin! And said, "I n'ot;21 I saw him not here Men may die of imagination, wirch 22 So deeply may impressi6n be take. Since Saturday; I trow that he be went This silly carpenter begins to quake: For timber, where our abbot hath him sent. He thinketh verily that he may see For he is wont for timber for to go, This newe flood come weltering as the sea And dwellen at the Grange a day or two: To drenchen3 Alison, his honey dear. Or else he is at his own house certain. Hie weepeth, waileth, maketh sorry cheer; 4 Where that he be, I cannot soothly sayn." 23 He sigheth, with full many a sorry sough. This Absolon full jolly was and light, He go'th, and getteth him a kneading trough, And thought, "Now is the time to wake all And after that a tub, and a kemelin, night, And privily he sent them to his inn: For sickerly 24 I saw him not stirring And hung them in the roof full privily. About his door, since day began to spring. With his own hand then made he ladders three, So may I thrive, but I shall at cock crow To climbe by the ranges and the stalks 6 Full privily go knock at his wind6w, Unto the tubbis hanging in the balks; That stands full low upon his bower wall: 25 And victualed them, kemelin, trough, and tub, To Alison then will I tellen all With bread and cheese, and good ale in a jub,8 My love-longing; for I shall not miss Sufficing right enough as for a day. That at the leaste way I shall her kiss. But ere that he had made all this array, Some manner comfort shall I have, parfay, 26 He sent his knave, and eke his wench 9 also, My mouth hath itched all this livelong day: Upon his need 10 to London for to go. That is a sign of kissing at the least. And on the Monday, when it drew to night, All night I mette 27 eke I was at a feast. He shut his door withoute candle light, Therefore I will go sleep an hour or tway, And dressed" every thing as it should be. And all the night then will I wake and play." And shortly up they climbed all the three. When that the first cock crowed had, anon They satte stille well a furlong way.l2 Up rose this jolly lover Absolon, "Now, Pater noster, clum," 13 said Nicholay, And him arrayed gay, at point devise.28 And " clum," quoth John; and " clum," said But first he chewed grains 29 and liquorice, Alison: To smelle sweet, ere he had combed his hair. This carpenter said his devoti6n, Under his tongue a true love 30 he bare And still he sat and bidded his prayere, For thereby thought he to be gracious. Awaiting on the rain, if he it hear. Then came he to the carpentre's house, The deade sleep, for weary business, And still he stood under the shot window; 1 What all the strange contrivance meant. extinguish fire and candle, and go to rest; hence the 2 Pretended to fear that she would die. word curfew, from French, "couvre-feu," cover-fire. 3 Drown. 4 A dismalcountenance. 15 Spirit. 16 Then he snored, for his head lay awry. 5 Groaning. 17 Where. 6 Rungs and uprights, or sides. 18 Matins, or morning song, at three in the morning. 7 Beams, joists. 8 Jug, bottle. 19 Occasion. 20 Cloistered monk. 9 His servant and serving-maid. 10 Business. 21 Know not. 22 Work. 11 Prepared. 23 Say certainly. 24 Sure enough. 12 As long as it might take to walk a furlong. 25 Chamber wall; the window, it has been said, pro13 "Clum," like "mum," a note of silence; but jected over the door. 26 By my faith. otherwise explained as the humming sound made in 27 Dreamt. 28 With exact care. repeating prayers; from the Anglo-Saxon, " clumian," 29 Grains of Paris, or Paradise; a favourite spice. to mutter, speak in an under-tone, keep silence. 30 Some sweet herb: another reading, however, is " a 14 Eight in the evening, when, by the law of William true love-knot," which may have been of the nature of the Conqueror, all people were, on ringing of a bell, to a charm. 'H1 MILLR'S TALE.. Unto his breast it raught,l it was so low; "By God's corpus, this game went fair and And soft he coughed with a semison'.2 well." "What do ye, honeycomb, sweet Alisotin? This silly Absolon heard every deal,l4 My fairB bird, my sweet cinamome,3 And on his lip he gan for anger bite; Awaken, leman 4 mine, and speak to me. And to himself he said, " I shall thee quite.l5 Full little thinke ye upon my woe, Who rubbeth now, who frotteth 16 now his lips That for your love I sweat there as 5 I go. With dust, with sand, with straw, with cloth, No wonder is that I do swelt 6 and sweat. with chips, I mourn as doth a lamb after the teat. But Absolon? that saith full oft, "Alas! Y-wis,7 leman, I have such love-longing, My soul betake I unto Sathanas, That like a turtle true is my mourning. But me were leverl7 than all this town," quoth I may not eat, no more than a maid." he, "Go from the window, thou jack fool," she' Of this despite awroken 1 for to be. said: Alas! alas! that I have been y-blent."l9 " As help me God, it will not be, come ba me.8 His hote love is cold, and all y-quent.20 I love another, else I were to blame, For from that time that he had kiss'd her erse, Well better than thee, by Jesus, Absolon. Of paramours he sette not a kers,21 Go forth thy way, or I will cast a stone; For he was healed of his malady; And let me sleep; a twenty devil way." 9 Full often paramours he gan defy, " Alas! " quoth Absolon, " and well away! And weep as doth a child that hath been beat. That true love ever was so ill beset: A softe pace he went over the street Then kiss me, since that it may be no bet,'0 Unto a smith, men callen Dan22 Gerveis, For Jesus' love, and for the love of me." That in his forge smithed plough-harn6ss; "Wilt thou then go thy way therewith? " quoth He sharped share and culter busily. she. This Absolon knocked all easily, "Yea, certes, leman," quoth this Absolon. And said; " Undo, Gerveis, and that anon." "Then make thee ready," quoth she, " I come "What, who art thou?" "It is I, Absolon." anon." "What? Absolon, what? Christe's sweete [And unto Nicholas she said full still: 1 tree,2 "Now peace, and thou shalt laugh anon thy Why rise so rath? 2 hey! benedicite, fill."] What aileth you? some gay girl,25 God it wote, This Absolon down set him on his knees, Hath brought you thus upon the viretote: 26 And said; " I am a lord at all degrees: By Saint Neot, ye wot well what I mean." For after this I hope there cometh more; This Absolon he raughte 27 not a bean Leman,thy grace, and, sweete bird, thine ore."l Of all his play; no word again he gaf,28 The window she undid, and that in haste. For he had more tow on his distaff29 "Have done," quoth she, "come off, and speed Than Gerveis knew, and saidB; "Friend so thee fast, dear, Lest that our neighebours should thee espy." That hote culter in the chimney here Then Absolon gan wipe his mouth full dry. Lend it to me, I have therewith to don: 30 Dark was the night as pitch or as the coal, I will it bring again to thee full soon." And at the window she put out her hole, Gerveis answered; " Certes, were it gold, And Absolon him fell ne bet ne werse, 3 Or in a poke 31 nobles all untold, But with his mouth he kiss'd her naked erse Thou shouldst it have, as I am a true smith. Full savourly. When he was ware of this, Hey! Christd's foot, what will ye do thereAback he start, and thought it was amiss, with?" For well he wist a woman hath no beard. "Thereof," quoth Absolon, " be as be may; He felt a thing all rough, and long y-hair'd, I shall well tell it thee another day: " And saide; " Fy, alas! what have I do?" And caught the culter by the colde stele.32 " Te he! " quoth she, and clapt the window Full soft out at the door he gan to steal, to; And went unto the carpenter6's wall. And Absolon went forth at sorry pace. He coughed first, and knocked therewithal "A beard, a beard," said Hendy Nicholas; Upon the window, right as he did ere.33 I Reached. 2 Low tone. 3 Cinnamon. 23 Cross. 24 Early. 4 Mistress. 5 Wherever. 25 As applied to a young woman of light manners, 6 Faint, swelter; hence "sultry." this euphemistic phrase has enjoyed a wonderful vi7 Certainly. 8 Come ba, or kiss, me. tality. 9 Twenty devils fly away with thee! 10 Better. 26 Urry reads "meritote," and explains it from Spel11 In a low voice. The two lines within brackets are man as a game in which children made themselves not in most of the editions: they are taken from Urry; giddy by whirling on ropes. In French, "'virer" whether he supplied them or not, they serve the pur- means to turn; and the explanation may, therefore, pose of a necessary explanation. 12 Favour. suit either reading. In modern slang parlance, Gerveis 13 Neither better nor worse befell. would probably have said, " on the rampage," or "on 14 Every word. 15 Requite, pay off, be even with. the swing "-not very far from Spelman's rendering. 16 Rubbeth; French, "frotter." 17 Rather. 27 Recked, cared. 28 Gave. 18 Revenged; from "wreak," "awreak." 29 A proverbial saying: he was playing a deeper 19 Deceived, befooled. 20 Quenched. game, had more serious business on hand. 21 Cared not a rush: "kers" is the modern "cress." 30 Something to do. 31 Bag. 22 Master. 32 Handle. 33 Before; German, "eher." 54 THE CANTERBCURY TALES. This Alison answered; "Who is there For whatsoe'er this carpenter answdr'd, That knocketh so? I warrant him a thief." It was for nought, no man his reason heard. "Nay, nay," quoth he, " God wot, my sweete With oathes great he was so sworn adown, lefe, That he was holden wood in all the town. I am thine Absolon, my own darling. For every clerk anon right held with other; Of gold," quoth he, "I have thee brought a They said, "The man was wood, my leve16' ring, brother;" tly mother gave it me, so God me save! And every wight gan laughen at his strife. Full fine it is, and thereto well y-grave: 2 Thus swived 7 was the carpent6re's wife, This will I give to thee, if thou me kiss." For all his keeping 18 and his jealousy; Now Nicholas was risen up to piss, And Absolon hath kiss'd her nether eye; And thought he would amenden all the jape; 3 And Nicholas is scalded in the tout. He shoulde kiss his erse ere that he scape: This tale is done, and God save all the rout.l9 And up the window did he hastily, And out his erse he put full privily Over the buttock, to the haunche bone. And therewith spake this clerk, this Absolon, E RE S TA "Speak, sweete bird, I know not where thouEEVE'S TAE. art.",THE PROLOGUE. This Nicholas anon let fly a fart, As great as it had been a thunder dent,4 WHEN folk had laughed all at this nice case That with the stroke he was well nigh y-blent; Of Absolon and Hendy Nicholas, But he was ready with his iron hot, Diverse folk diversely they said, And Nicholas amid the erse he smote. But for the more part they laugh'd and play'd;20 Off went the skin an handbreadth all about. And at this tale I saw no man him grieve, The hote culter burned so his tout,6 But it were only Osewold the Reeve. That for the smart he weened 7 he would die; Because he was of carpent6re's craft, As he were wood,8 for woe he gan to cry, A little ire is in his hearte laft; 21 " Help! water, water, help for Godde's heart! " He gan to grudge 22 and blamed it a lite.23 - This carpenter out of his slumber start, "So th6 I," 24 quoth he, "full well could I him And heard one cry " Water," as he were wood,8 quite 2 And thought, " Alas! now cometh Noe's flood." With blearing 26 of a proude miller's eye, He sat him up without6 wordes mo', If that me list to speak of ribaldry. And with his axe he smote the cord in two; But I am old; me list not play for age; 27 And down went all; he found neither to sell Grass time is done, my fodder is now forage. Nor bread nor ale,9 till he came to the sell,l This white top28 writeth mine olde years; Upon the floor, and there in swoon he lay. Mine heart is also moulded 29 as mine hairs; Up started Alison and Nicholay, And I do fare as doth an open-erse; 30 And cried out an " harow! " l in the street. That ilk 31 fruit is ever longer werse, The neighbours a1, bothe small and great Till it be rotten in mullok or in stre.32 In rann6, for to gauren12 on this man, We old6 men, I dread, so fare we; That yet in swoone lay, both pale and wan: Till we be rotten, can we not be ripe; For with the fall he broken had his arm. We hop 33 alway, while that the world will pipe; But stand he must unto his owen harm, For in our will there sticketh aye a nail, For when he spake, he was anon borne down To have an hoary head and a green tail, With Hendy Nicholas and Alisofin. As hath a leek; for though our might be gone, They told to every man that he was wood; Our will desireth folly ever-in-one:34 He was ahast 13 so of Noe's flood, For when we may not do, then will we speak, Through phantasy, that of his vanity Yet in our ashes cold does fir6 reek.35 He had y-bought him kneading-tubbSs three, Four gledes 36 have we, which I shall devise,37 And had them hanged in the roof above; Vaunting, and lying, anger, covetise.38 And that he prayed them for Godde's love These fourS sparks belongen unto eld. To sitten in the roof for company. Our olde limbes well may be unweld)39 The folk gan laughen at his phantasy. But will shall never fail us, that is sooth. Into the roof they kyken,14 and they gape, And yet have I alway a colte's tooth,40 And turned all his harm into a jape.15 As many a year as it is passed and gone 1 Dear, love. 2 Engraved. 3 Improve the jest. 24 Or "so the ik," so may I thrive. 4 Peal, clap. 5 Blinded. 6 Breech. 25 Match, recompense. 7 Thought. 8 Mad. 26 Dimming his eye; playing off a joke on him. 9 Found nothing to stop hifn. 27 Age takes away my zest for drollery. 28 Head. 1o Sill of the door, threshold; French, "seull," 29 Grown mouldy. 30 Medlar. 31 Same. Latin, " solum," the ground. 32 On the ground or in the straw. 33 Dance. 11 See note 3, page 49. 34 Continually. [12 Stare. 13 Terrified. 35 Smoke. "Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted 14 Peep, look. 15 Jest. 16 Dear. fires." 17 Enjoyed. 18 Care. 19 Company. 36 Glowing coals (of passion). 37 Relate, describe. 20 Were diverted. 21 Left. 22 Murmur. 38 Covetousness. 39 Unwieldy. 23 Little. 40 A wanton humour, a relish for pleasure. THE R ESA''S TALE. 55 Since that my tap of life began to run; Round *was his face, and camuse 7 was his For sickerly,1 when I was born, anon nose. Death drew the tap of life, and let it gon: As pilled 1 as an apb's was his skull. And ever since hath so the tap y-run, He was a market-beter at the full.19 Till that almost all empty is the tun. There durste no wight hand upon him legge, 20 The stream of life now droppeth on the That he ne swore anon he should abegge.2' chimb.2 A thief he was, for sooth, of corn and meal, The silly tonguS well may ring and chime And that a sly, and used well to steal. Of wretchedness, that passed is full yore: s His name was hoten deinous Simekin.22 With olde folk, save dotage, is no more." 4 A wife he hadd6, come of noble kin: When that our Host had heard this sermon- The parson of the town her father was. ing, With her he gave full many a pan of brass, He gan to speak as lordly as a king, For that Simkin should in his blood ally. And said; " To what amounteth all this wit? She was y-foster'd in a nunnery: What? shall we speak all day of holy writ? For Simkin woulde no wife, as he said, The devil made a Reeve for to preach, But she were well y-nourish'd, and a maid, As of a souter 5 a shipman, or a leach.6 To saven his estate and yeomanry: Say forth thy tale, and tarry not the time: And she was proud, and pert as is a pie.23 Lo here is Deptford, and't is half past prime: 7 A full fair sight it was to see them two; Lo Greenwich, where many a shrew is in. On holy days before her would he go It were high time thy tale to begin." With his tipp6t 24 y-bound about his head; "Now, sirs," quoth then this Osewold the And she came after in a gite 25 of red, Reeve, And Simkin hadde hosen of the same. "I pray you all that none of you do grieve, There durste no wight call her aught but Dame: Though I answer, and somewhat set his hove,8 None was so hardy, walking by that way, For lawful is force off with force to shove.9 That with her either durste rage or play,26 This drunken miller hath y-told us here But if 27 he would be slain by Simekin How that beguiled was a carpentere,. With pavade, or with knife, or bodekin. Paraventure in scorn,-for I am one: For jealous folk be per'lous evermo': And, by your leave, I shall him quite anon. Algate28 they would their wives wende so.29 Right in his churlish termea will I speak,- And eke for she was somewhat smutterlich,30 I pray to God his necke might to-break. She was as dign 31 as water in a ditch, He can well in mine eye see a stalk,l1 And all so full of hoker,32 and bismare.3 But in his own he cannot see a balk." Her thoughte that a lady should her spare,34 What for her kindred, and her nortelrie 25 That she had learned in the nunnery. THE TALBE.11 One daughter hadde they betwixt them two Of twenty year, withouten any mo, At Trompington, not far from Cantebrig,2 Saving a child that was of half year age, There goes a brook, and over that a brig, In cradle it lay, and was a proper page.3 Upon the whiche brook there stands a mill: This wenche thick and well y-growen was, And this is very sooth that I you tell. With camuse nose, and eyen gray as glass; A miller was there dwelling many a day, With buttocks broad, and breastes round and As any peacock he was proud and gay: high; Pipen he could, and fish, and nettes bete,13 But right fair was her hair, I will not lie. And turns cups, and wrestle well, and shete.l4 The parson of the town, for she was fair,a7 Aye by his belt he bare a long pavade,l5 In purpose was to make of her his heir And of his sword full trenchant was the blade. Both of his chattels and his messuage, A jolly popper 16 bare he in his pouch; And strange he made it of 38 her marriage. There was no man for peril durst him touch. His purpose was for to bestow her high A. Sheffield whittle bare he in his hose. Into some worthy blood of ancestry. i Certainly. the Middle Ages, and are found under various forms. 2 The rim of the barrel where the staves project be- Boccaccio has told them in the ninth day of his yond the head. 3 Long. "Decameron." 12 Cambridge. 13 Prepare. 4 Dotage is all that is left them; that is, they can 14 Shoot. 15 Poniard. 16 Dagger. only dwell fondly, dote, on the past. 17 Flat; French, "camus," snub-nose. 5 Cobbler; Scottic6, "sutor;" from Latin, "suere," 18 Peeled, bald. to sew. 19 A brawler, bully, in full or open market. 6 Surgeon. " Ex sutore medicus" aid " ex sutore 20 Lay. 21 Suffer the penalty. nauclerus "-seaman or pilot-were both proverbial 22 Called "Disdainful Simkin," or little Simon. expressions in the Middle Ages. 23 Magpie. 2 Hood, or head-gear. 7 Half-way between prime and tierce; about half- 25 Gown or coat; French, "jupe." past seven in the morning. 26 Use freedom. 27 Unless. 28 Always. 8 Like "set their caps;" see note 21, page 23. 29 So behave themselves. 80 Dirty. " Hove" or "houfe," means "hood;" and the phrase 81 Nasty; akin to " dung." 32 Ill-nature. signifies to be even with, outwit. 83 Scandal, abusive speech. 9 To repel force by force. 84 Should not judge her hardly. t 9o The illustration of the mote and the beam, from 35 Nurturing, education. a6 Boy. Matthew. 37 Because of her beauty. 11 The incidents of this tale were much relished in 88 He made it matter of consequence or difficulty. 56 THE CANTERBURY TALES. For holy Church's good may be dispended 1 To grind our corn and carry it home again: On holy Church's blood that is descended. I pray you speed us hence as well ye may." Therefore he would his holy blood honofir, " It shall be done," quoth Simkin, " by my fay. Though that he holy Churche should devour. What will ye do while that it is in hand?" Great soken 2 hath this miller, out of doubt, " By God, right by the hopper will I stand," With wheat and malt, of all the land about; Quoth John, "and see how that the corn goes And namely 3 there was a great college in. Men call the Soler Hall at Cantebrege,4 Yet saw I never, by my father's kin, There was their wheat and eke their malt How that the hopper wagges to and fro." y-ground. Alein answered, " John, and wilt thou so? And on a day it happed in a stound,5 Then will I be beneathY, by my crown, Sick lay the manciple 6 of a malady, And see how that the meale falls adown Men weened wisly 7 that he shoulde die. Into the trough, that shall be my disport: 20 For which this miller stole both meal and corn For, John, in faith I may be of your sort; An hundred times more than beforn. I is as ill a miller as is ye." For theretofore he stole but courteously, This miller smiled at their nicety,21 But now he was a thief outrageously. And thought, "All this is done but for a wile. For which the warden chid and made fare,8 They weenen22 that no man may them beguile, But thereof set the miller not a tare; 9 But by my thrift yet shall I blear their eye,23 He crack'd his boast,'0 and swore it was not For all the sleight in their philosophy. so. The more quainte knacks 24 that they make, Then were there younge poore scholars two, The more will I steal when that I take. That dwelled in the hall of which I say; Instead of flour yet will I give them bren.25 Testif 1 they were, and lusty for to play; The greatest clerks are not the wisest men, And only for their mirth and revelry As whilom to the wolf thus spake the mare: 2 "Upon the warden busily they cry, Of all their art ne count I not a tare." To give them leave for but a little stound,12 Out at the door he went full privily, To go to mill, and see their corn y-ground: When that he saw his time, softely. And hardily 13 they durste lay their neck, He looked up and down, until he found The miller should not steal them half a peck The clerkes' horse, there as he stood y-bound Of corn by sleight, nor them by force bereave.14 Behind the mill, under a levesell: 27 And at the last the warden give them leave: And to the horse he went him fair and well, John hight the one, and Alein hight the other, And stripped off the bridle right anon. Of one town were they born, that highte And when the horse was loose, he gan to gon Strother,l5 Toward the fen, where wildi mares run, Far in the North, I cannot tell you where. Forth, with " Wehee!" through thick and eke This Alein he made ready all his gear, through thin. And on a horse the sack he cast anon: This miller went again, no word he said, Forth went Alein the clerk, and also John, But did his note,2 and with these clerkes With good sword and with buckler by their play'd,2 side. Till that their corn was fair and well y-ground. John knew the way, him needed not no guide, And when the meal was sacked and y-bound, And at the mill the sack adown he lay'th. Then John went out, and found his horse away, Alein spake first; " All hail, Simon, in faith, And gan to cry, " Harow, and well-away! How fares thy faire daughter, and thy wife?" Our horse is lost: Alein, for Godde's bones, "Alein, welcome," quoth Simkin, " by my life, Step on thy feet; come off, man, all at once: And John also: how now, what do ye here?" Alas! our warden has his palfrey lorn." 30 "By God, Sim6n," quoth John, "need has no This Alein all forgot, both meal and corn; peer.16 All was out of his mind his husbandry: 31 Him serve himself behoves that has no swain,17 "What, which way is he gone?" he gan to Or else he is a fool, as clerkes sayn. cry. Our manciple I hope 18 he will be dead, The wife came leaping inward at a renne,32 So workes aye the wanges 19 in his head: She said; " Alas! your horse went to the fen And therefore is I come, and eke Alein, With wilde mares, as fast as he could go. 1 Spent. 2 Toll taken for grinding; custom. 19 Grinders, cheek-teeth; Anglo-Saxon, "wang," the 3 Especially. cheek; German, "Wange." 4 The hall or college at Cambridge with the gallery 20 Amusement. 21 Simplicity. or upper storey; supposed to have been Clare Hall. 22 Think. 23 See note 26, page 54. 5 Suddenly. 6 Steward; provisioner of the hall. 24 Odd little tricks. 25 Bran. 7 Thought certainly. 8 Ado. 26 In the "Cento Novelle Antiche," the story is told 9 Cared the miller not a rush. 10 Talked big. of a mule, which pretends that his name is written on 11 Headstrong, wild-brained; French, "entete." the bottom of his hind foot. The wolf attempts to 12 Short time. 13 Boldly. 14 Take away. read it, the mule kills him with a kick in the forehead; 15 Tyrwhitt points to Anstruther, in Fife: Mr Wright and the fox, looking on, remarks that " every man of to the Vale of Langstroth, in the West Riding of York- letters is not wise." A similar story is told in " Reyshire. Chaucer has given the scholars a dialect that nard the Fox." may have belonged to either district, although it more 27 An arbour; Anglo-Saxon, "lefe-setl," leafy seat. immediately suggests the more northern of the two. 28 Business; German, " Noth," necessity. 29 Jested. 16 Equal. 17 Servant. 18 Expect. 30 Lost. 31 Careful watch over the corn. 32 Run. THE REEVE'S TALE. 57 tTnthank' come on his hand that bound him so, But specially I pray thee, hoste dear, And his that better should have knit the rein." Gar 9 us have meat and drink, and make us "Alas! " quoth John, " Alein, for Christy's pain cheer, Lay down thy sword, and I shall mine also. And we shall pay thee truly at the full: I is full wight,2 God wate,3 as is a roe. With empty hand men may not hawkes tull.20 By Goddi's soul he shall not scape us bathe.4 Lhere our silver ready for to spend." Why n' had thou put the capel 5 in the lathe?6 This miller to the town his daughter send Ill hail, Alein, by God thou is a fonne." 7 For ale and bread, and roasted them a goose, These silly clerkes have full fast y-run And bound their horse, he should no more go Toward the fen, both Alein and eke John; loose: And when the miller saw that they were gone, And them in his own chamber made a bed. He half a bushel of their flour did take,, With sheetes and with chalons21 fair y-spread, And bade his wife go knead it in a cake. Not from his owen bed ten foot or twelve: He said; "I trow, the clerk's were afeard, His daughter had a bed all by herselve, Yet can a miller make a clerk's beard,8 Right in the sami chamber by and by: 22 For all his art: yea, let them go their way! It might no better be, and cause why,Lo where they go! yea, let the children play: There was no roomer herberow 23 in the place. They get him not so lightly, by my crown." They suppen, and they speaken of solace, These silly clerk's runnen up and down And drinken ever strong ale at the best. With " Keep, keep; stand, stand; jossa,9 Aboutd midnight went they all to rest. warderere. Well had this miller varnished his head; Go whistle thou, and I shall keepl~ him here." Full pale he was, fordrunken, and nought red.24 But shortly, till that it was very night He yoxed,25 and he spake thorough the nose, They coulde not, though they did all their As he were in the quakke,2 or in the pose.27 might, To bed he went, and with him went his wife, Their capel catch, he ran alway so fast: As any jay she light was and jolife,2 Till in a ditch they caught him at the last. So was her jolly whistle well y-wet. Weary and wet, as beastes in the rain, The cradle at her beddi's feet was set, Comes silly John, and with him comes Alein. To rock, and eke to give the child to suck. "Alas," quoth John, " the day that I was born I And when that drunken was all in the crock29 Now are we driv'n till hethingl and till scorn. To bedde went the daughter right anon, Our corn is stol'n, men will us fonnes 7 call, To bedde went Alein, and also John. Both the warden, and eke our fellows all, There was no more; needed them no dwale.30 And namelyl2 the miller, well-away! " This miller had so wisly31 bibbed ale, Thus plained John, as he went by the way That as a horse he snorted in his sleep; Toward the mill, and Bayard 13 in his hand. Nor of his tail behind he took no keep.32 The miller sitting by the fire he fand.'4 His wife bare him a burdoun,33 a full strong; For it was night, and forther15 might they Men might their routing34 hearen a furlong. not, The wenchi routed eke for company. But for the love of God they him besought Alein the clerk, that heard this melody, Of herberow and ease,16 for their penuy.l7 He poked John, and saide: "Sleepest thou? The miller said again, " If there be any, Heardest thou ever such a song ere now? Such as it is, yet shall ye have your part. Lo what a compline 35 is y-mell36 them all. Mine house is strait, but ye have learned art; A wildi fire upon their bodies fall, Ye can by arguments maken a place Who hearken'd ever such a ferly37 thing? A mild broad, of twenty foot of space. Yea, they shall have the flow'r of ill ending! Let see now if this place may suffice, This longe night there tidis 38 me no rest. Or make it room with speech, as is your guise."'8 But yet no force,39 all shall be for the best. "Now, Simon," said this John, "by Saint For, John," said he, "as ever may I thrive, Cuthberd If that I may, yon wenche will I swive.40 Aye is thou merry, and that is fair answer'd. Some easement has law y-shapen 4 us. I have heard say, man shall take of two things, For, John, there is a law that sayeth thus, Such as he findes, or such as he brings. That if a man in one point be aggriev'd, 1 Ill luck, a curse. 2 Swift. 24 Drunk, and without his wits about him. 3 Knows. 4 Both; Scotticc, "baith." 25 Hiccuped. 5 Horse; French, "cheval;" Italian, "cavallo," 26 Inarticulate sound accompanying bodily exertion. from Latin, "cavallus." i6 Barn. 7 Fool. 27 Catarrh. 28 Jolly. 8 Cheat a scholar; French, "faire la barbe;" and 29 Pitcher, cruse; Anglo-Saxon, "crocca;" Germane Boccaccio uses the proverb in the same sense. "Krug;" hence "crockery." 9 Turn. 10 Catch, intercept; Scottice, "kep." 30 Night-shade, solanum somniferum, given to caus, 11 Mockery. 12 Especially. sleep. 31 Certainly. 32 Heed. 13 The bay horse. 14 Found. 33 Bass; "burden "of a song. It originally means the 15 Proceed on their way. drone of a bagpipe; French, bourdon." 34 Snoring. 16 Lodging and entertainment. 35 Even-song in the Church service; chorus. 17 Payment. 18 Fashion. 36 Among. 19 " Gar" is Scotch for "cause;" some editions read, 37 Strange. In Scotland, a "ferlie" is an unwonted however. "get us some." 20 Allure. or remarkable sight. 38 Comes to me. 21 Blankets, coverlets, made at Chalons. 39 Matter. 40 Enjoy carnally. 22 Side by side. 23 Roomier lodging. 41 Some satisfaction, pleasure, has law provided. 58 XTHE CANTERBURY TALES. That in another he shall be reliev'd. I is thine owen clerk, so have I hele." 6 Our corn is stoln, soothly it is no nay, "Now, deari leman," 7 quoth she, "go, fareAnd we have had an evil fit to-day. wele: And since I shall have none amendement But ere thou go, one thing I will thee tell. Against my loss, I will have easement: When that thou wendest homeward by the mill, By Godde's soul, it shall none other be;" Right at the entry of the door behind This John answ6r'd; " Alein, avise thee: 1 Thou shalt a cake of half a bushel find, The miller is a perilous man," he said, That was y-maked of thine owen meal, "And if that he out of his sleep abraid,2 Which that I help'd my father for to steal. He mighte do us both a villainy."3 And, goode leman, God thee save and keep." Alein answ6r'd; " I count him not a fly." And with that word she gan almost to weep. And up he rose, and by the wench he crept. Alein uprose and thought, "Ere the day daw This wenche lay upright, and fast she slept, I will go creepen in by my fellfw:" Till he so nigh was, ere she might espy, And found the cradle with his hand anon. That it had been too late for to cry: "By God!" thought he, "all wrong I have And, shortly for to say, they were at one. misgone: Now play, Alein, for I will speak of John. My head is totty of my swink 8 to-night, This John lay still a furlong way or two,4 That maketh me that I go not aright. And to himself he made ruth 5 and woe. I wot well by the cradle I have misgo'; "Alas! " quoth he, " this is a wicked jape; 6 Here lie the miller and his wife also." Now may-I say, that I is but an ape. And forth he went a twenty devil way Yet has my fellow somewhat for his harm; Unto the bed, there as the miller lay. He has the miller's daughter in his arm: He ween'dl1 t' have creeped by his fellow John, He auntred 7 him, and hatli his needes sped, And by the miller in he crept anon, And I lie as a draff-sack in my bed; And caught him by the neck, and gan him shake, And when this jape is told another day, And said; "Thou John, thou swine's-head, I shall be held a daffe 8 or a cockenay:9 awake I will arise, and auntre it, by my fay: For Christe's soul, and hear a noble game! Unhardy is unsely,'5 as men say." For by that lord that called is Saint Jame, And up he rose, and softely he went As I have thries in this shortS night Unto the cradle, and in his hand it hent,l Swived the miller's daughter bolt-upright, And bare it soft unto his bedde's feet. While thou hast as a coward lain aghast." 20 Soon after this the wife her routing lete,2'Thou false harlot," quoth the miller, "hast? And gan awake, and went her out to piss, Ah, false traitor, false clerk," quoth he, And came again, and gan the cradle miss, "Thou shalt be dead, by Godde's dignity, And groped here and there, but she found none. Who durste be so bold to disparage 21 " Alas! " quoth she, "I had almost misgone, My daughter, that is come of such lineage?" I had almost gone to the clerkes' bed. And by the throate-ball 22 he caught Alein, Ey! benedicite, then had I foul y-sped." And he him hent 23 dispiteously 24 again, And forth she went, till she the cradle fand. And on the nose he smote him with his fist; She groped alway farther with her hand, Down ran the bloody stream upon his breast: And found the bed, and thoughte not but good,13 And in the floor with nose and mouth all broke Because that the cradle by it stood, They wallow, as do two pigs in a poke. And wist not where she was, for it was derk; And up they go, and down again anon, But fair and well she crept in by the clerk, Till that the miller spurned 25 on a stone, And lay full still, and would have caught a sleep. And down he backward fell upon his wife, Within a while this John the clerk up leap, That wiste nothing of this nic6 strife: And on this goode wife laid on full sore; For she was fall'n asleep a little wight 6 So merry a fit had she not had full yore. 4 With John the clerk, that waked had all night: He pricked hard and deep, as he were mad. And with the fall out of her sleep she braid.27 This jolly life have these two clerkes lad, " Help, holy cross of Bromeholm," 28 she said; Till that the thirde cock began to sing. "In mansus tuas I Lord, to thee I call. Alein wax'd weary in the morrowing, Awake, Sim6n, the fiend is on me fall; For he had swonken 1 all the longe night, Mine heart is broken; help; I am but dead: And saidi; "Farewell, Malkin, my sweet wight. There li'th one on my womb and on mine head. The day is come, I may no longer bide, Help, Simkin, for these falsi clerks do fight." But evermore, where so I go or ride, This John start up as fast as e'er he might, Have a care. 2 Awaked. 3 Mischief. 17 Sweetheart; the word was used of either sex. 4 See note 12, page 52. 5 Wail. 18 Giddy, tottering, with my hard work. 6 Trick, befooling. 7 Adventured. 19 Thought. 20 Afraid. 8 A coward, blockhead. 21 Disgrace, do indignity to. 9 A term of contempt, probably borrowed from the 22 The protuberance in the throat, called "Adam's kitchen; a cook, in base Latin, being termed "coqui- apple." 23 Seized. 24 Angrily. narius." Compare French "coquin, "rascal. 25 Stumbled. 26 While. 27 Woke. o1 The cowardly is unlucky; "nothing venture, no- 28 A common adjuration at that time; the cross or thing have;" German, "unselig," unhappy. rood of the priory of Bromholm, in Norfolk, was said 11 Took. 12 Left off. 13 Had no suspicion, to contain part of the real cross, and therefore held in 14 Long. 15 Laboured. 16 Health. high esteem. TTHE COOK'S TALE. 59 And groped by the walles to and fro A tale of me, that am a poor8 man, To find a staff; and she start up also, I will you tell as well as e'er I can And knew the estres I better than this John, A little jape that fell in our city." And by the wall she took a staff anon: Our Host answdr'd and said; " I grant it thee. And saw a little shimmering of a light, Roger, tell on; and look that it be good, For at an hole in shone the moone bright, For many a pasty hast thou letten blood, And by that light she saw them both the two, And many a Jack of Doverl1 hast thou sold, But sickerly 2 she wist not who was who, That had been twice hot and twice cold. But as she saw a white thing in her eye. Of many a pilgrim hast thou Christe's curse, And when she gan this white thing espy, For of thy parsley yet fare they the worse, She ween'd 3 the clerk had wear'd a volupere; 4 That they have eaten in thy stubble goose: And with the staff she drew aye nere and nere,5 For in thy shop doth many a fly go loose. And ween'd to have hit this Alein at the full, Now tell on, gentle Roger, by thy name, And smote the miller on the pilled6 skull, But yet I pray thee be not wroth for game;2 That down he went, and cried, " Harow! I die." A man may say full sooth in game and play." These clerkes beat him well, and let him lie, "Thou sayst full sooth," quoth Roger, "by my And greithen 7 them, and take their horse anon, fay; And eke their meal, and on their way they gon: But sooth play quad play,21 as the Fleming saith, And at the mill door eke they took their cake And therefore, Harry Bailly, by thy faith, Of half a bushel flour, fui well y-bake. Be thou not wroth, else we departe 22 here, Thus is the proude miller well y-beat, Though that my tale be of an hostel6re.23 And hath y-lost the grinding of the wheat, But natheless, I will not tell it yet, And payed for the supper every deal 8 But ere we part, y-wis 24 thou shalt be quit." Of Alein and of John, that beat him well; And therewithal he laugh'd and made cheer,2 His wife is swived, and his daughter als;9 And told his tale, as ye shall after hear. Lo, such it is a miller to be false. And therefore this proverb is said full sooth, " Him thar lo not winnen 1 well that evil do'th; THE TALE. A guiler shall himself beguiled be:" And God that sitteth high in majesty A prentice whilom dwelt in our city, Save all this company, both great and smale. And of a craft of victuallers was he: Thus have I quit 12 the Miller in my tale. Gaillard 26 he was, as goldfinch in the shaw,?7 Brown as a berry, a proper short fellaw: With lock's black, combed full fetisly.28 And dance he could so well and jollily, THE COOKS TATLE. That he was called Perkin Revellour. He was as full of love and paramour, THE PROLOGUE. As is the honeycomb of honey sweet; Well was the wenche that with him might meet. THECook of London, while the Reeve thus spake, At every bridal would he sing and hop; For joy he laugh'd and clapp'd him on the back: He better lov'd the tavern than the shop. " Aha! " quoth he, " for Christe's passi6n, For when there any riding was in Cheap,29 This Miller had a sharp conclusion, Out of the shoppe thither would he leap, Upon this argument of herbergage.l3 And, till that he had all the sight y-seen, Well saidB Solomon in his language, And danced well, he would not come again; Bring thou not every man into thine house, And gather'd him a meinie of his sort,30 For harbouring by night is perilous. To hop and sing, and mak6 such disport: Well ought a man avised for to be 14 And there they sette steven 31 for to meet Whom that he brought into his privity. To playen at the dice in such a street. I pray to God to give me sorrow and care For in the towne was there no prentice If ever, since I highte 15 Hodge of Ware, That fairer couldB cast a pair of dice Heard I a miller better set a-werk;16 Than Perkin could; and thereto he was free He had a jape 7 of malice in the derk. Of his dispence, in place of privity.32 But God forbid that we should stintBel here, That found his master well in his chaffare,33 And therefore if ye will vouchsafe to hear For oftentime he found his box full bare. I Apartment. 2 Certainly. 24 Assuredly. It may be remembered that each 3 Supposed. 4 Night-cap. pilgrim was bound to tell two stories; one on the way 5 Nearer and nearer. 6 Bald. to Canterbury, the other returning. 7 Make ready, dress. 8 Every bit. 9 Also. 25 French, "fit bonne mine;" put on a pleasant couni0 It behoves; from the Anglo-Saxon, "thearfian,"to tenance. 26 Lively gay. be obliged. 11 Gain; obtain good. 27 Shade, grove. 28 Daintily. 12 Made myself quits with, paid off. 29 Cheapside, where jousts were sometimes held, and 13 Lodging. 14 A man should take good heed. which was the great scene of city revels and proces15 Since my name was. 16 Better handled. sions. 30 Company of fellows like himself. 17 Trick. 18 Stop. 19 An article of cookery. 31 Made appointment. o2 Be not angry with myjesting. 32 And, moreover, he spent money liberally in placed 21 True jest no jest. 22 Else we part company. where he could do so without being observed. 23 Innkeeper. 33 Wares, merchandise. 6o THE CANTERB UR Y TALES. For, soothely, a prentice revellofr, That Phoebus, which that shone so clear and That haunteth dice, riot, and paramour, bright, His master shall it in his shop abie,l Degrees was five-and-forty clomb on height; All 2 have he no part of the minstrelsy. And for that day, as in that latitude, For theft and riot they be convertible, It was ten of the clock, he gan conclude; All2 can they play on gitern or ribible.3 And suddenly he plight 8 his horse about. Revel and truth, as in a low degree, " Lordings," quoth he, " I warn you all this They be full wroth 4 all day, as men may see. rout,'9 This jolly prentice with his master bode, The fourthe partie of this day is gone. Till he was nigh out of his prenticehood, Now for the love of God and of Saint John All 2 were he snubbed 5 bothearly and late, Lose no time, as farforth as ye may. And sometimes led with revel to Newgate. Lordings, the time wasteth night and day, But at the last his master him bethought, And steals from us, what privily sleeping, Upon a day when he his paper 6 sought, And what through negligence in our waking, Of a proverb, that saith this sami word; As doth the stream, that turneth never again, Better is rotten apple out of hoard, Descending from the mountain to the plain. Than that it should rot all the remenint.: Well might Senec, and many a philos6pher, So fares it by a riotous servant; Bewaild time more than gold in coffer. It is well lesse harm to let him pace,7 For loss of chattels may recover'd be, Than he shend 8 all the servants in the place. But loss of time shendeth 20 us, quoth he. Therefore his master gave him a quittance, It will not come again, withoute dread,21 And bade him go, with sorrow and mischance. No more than will Malkin's maidenhead,22 And thus this jolly prentice had his leve: 9 When she hath lost it in her wantonness. Now let him riot all the night, or leave.'0 Let us not moulds thus in idleness. And, for there is no thief without a louke,l Sir Man of Law," quoth he, " so have ye bliss, That helpeth him to wasten and to souk 1 Tell us a tale anon, as forword is.23 Of that he bribe can, or borrow may, Ye be submitted through your free assent Anon he sent his bed and his array To stand in this case at my judgement. Unto a compere 13 of his owen sort, Acquit you now, and holde your behest; 24 That loved dice, and riot, and disport; Then have ye done your devoir25 at the least." And had a wife, that held for countenance 4 "Hoste," quoth he, " de par dieux jeo as. A shop, and swived 5 for her sustenance. sente; 2 ~.. ~. ~.. ~ 16 To breake forword is not mine intent. Behest is debt, and I would hold it fain, All my behest; I can no better sayn. For such law as a man gives another wight, He should himselfe usen it by right. OTHE MAN OFL LAWV'S TPALE. Thus will our text: but natheless certain THE PROLOGUE. I can right now no thrifty27 tale sayn, But Chaucer (though he can but lewddly 2 OUR Hoste saw well that the brighte sun On metres and on rhyming craftily) Th' arc of his artificial day had run Hath said them, in such English as he can, The fourthi part, and half an houre more; Of olde time, as knoweth many a man. And, though he were not deep expert in lore, And if he have not said them, levi 29 brother, He wist it was the eight-and-twenty day In one book, he hath said them in another Of April, that is messenger to May; For he hath told of lovers up and down, And saw well that the shadow of every tree More than Ovidi made of mentioun 30 Was in its length of the same quantity In his Epistolae, that be full old. That was the body erect that caused it; Why should I tellS them, since they be told? And therefore by the shadow he took his wit,7 In youth he made of Ceyx and Alcyon,3 1 Suffer for. 2 Although. 3 Guitar or rebeck. 17 Knowledge. 4 At variance. 5'Rebuked. 18 Pulled; the word is an obsolete past tense from 6 Certificate of completed apprenticeship. "pluck." 19 Company. 7 Pass, go. 8 Corrupt. 20 Destroys. 21 Doubt. 9 What he loved, his desire. 10 Refrain. 22 A proverbial saying; which, however, had ob11 The precise meaning of the word is unknown, but tained fresh point from the Reeve's Tale, to which the it is doubtless included in the cant term "pal." Host doubtless refers. 12 Suck, consume, spend. 3 Comrade. 23 According to our bargain. ~4 For the sake of appearances. 24 Keep your promise. 25 Duty. 15 Prostituted herself. 26 It is characteristic that the somewhat pompous 16 The Cook's Tale is unfinished in all the manu- Sergeant of Law should couch his assent in the semiscripts; but in some, of minor authority, the Cook is barbarous French, then familiar in law procedure. made to break offhis tale, because " it is so foul," and to 27 Worthy. tell the story of Gamelyn, on which Shakespeare's "As 28 Understands but imperfectly. You Like It " is founded. The story is not Chaucer's, 29 Dear. 30 Made mention of. and is different in metre, and inferior in composition 31 In the introduction to the poem called "The to the Tales. It is supposed that Chaucer expunged Dream of Chaucer;" or, "The Book of the Duchess." the Cook's Tale for the same reason that made him It relates to the death of Blanche, wife of John of on his death-bed lament that he had written so much Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the poet's patron, and after"ribaldry." wards his connexion by marriage. T4kE MAN OF LAW'S TALE. o0 And since then hath he spoke of every one If thou none ask, so sore art thou y-wounded, These noble wives, and these lovers eke. That very need unwrappeth all thy wound hid. Whoso that will his large volume seek Maugre thine head thou must for indigence Called the Saintes' Legend of Cupid: Or steal, or beg, or borrow thy dispence.l0 There may he see the largB woundis wide Thou blamest Christ, and sayst full bitterly, Of Lucrece, and of Babylon Thisbe; He misdeparteth n riches temporal; The sword of Dido for the false Enee; Thy neighebour thou witest 12 sinfully, The tree of Phillis for her Demophon; And sayst, thou hast too little, and he hath all: The plaint of Diane, and of Hermion, " Parfay (sayst thou) sometime he reckon shall, Of Ariadne, and Hypsipil; When that his tail shall brennen in the glede,1 The barren isle standing in the sea; For he not help'd the needful in their need." The drown'd Leander for his fair Hero; Hearken what is the sentence of the wise: The tearis of Helene, and eke the woe Better to die than to have indigence. Of Briseis, and Laodamia; Thy selve neighebour 14 will thee despise, The cruelty of thee, Queen MedeA, If thou be poor, farewell thy reverence. Thy little children hanging by the halse,2 Yet of the wis man take this sentence, For thy Jason, that was of love so false. Alle the days of poor6 men be wick',15 O Hypermnestra, Penelop', Alcest', Beware therefore ere thou come to that prick.16 Your wifehood he commendeth with the best. e r, But certainly no worde writeth he If thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee, Ofut certainly no word3 writeth bfhe And all thy friendrs flee from thee, alas! Of thilokv wick" 3 example of Canafl, O rich6 merchants, full of wealth be ye, That loved her own brother sinfully; 0 noble, prudent folk, as in this case, (Of all such cursed stories I say, Fy), our b be nt fl, a in th is c ae, Or else of Tyrius Apollonius Your bagges be not fill'd with ambes ace,? Or else of Tyrius Apollonius, But with six-cinque,18 that runneth for your How that the cursed king Antiochus tt r eth for your Bereft his daughter of her maidenhead A h w c; That is so horrible a tale to read, At Christenmass well merry may ye dance. That is so horrible a tale to read, When he her threw upon the pavement. e seek land and sea for your winnings, And therefore he, of full avisement,4As s folk ye knowen al th' estate Would never write in none of his sermons Of.regnes; 19 ye be fathers of tidings, Of such unkind 5 abominati6ns; And tals, both of peace and of debate:20 Nor I will none rehearse, if that I may. I were rigt now of ta ls desolate,' But of my tale how shall I do this day But that a merchant, gone in many a year, Me were loth to be liken'd doubteless Me taught a tale, which ye shall after hear. To Muses, that men call Pierides 6 In Syria whilom dwelt a company (Metamorphoseos 7 wot what I mean), Of chapmen rich, and thereto sad 22 and true, But natheless I recke not a bean, That widiwhere 23 sent their spicery, Though I come after him with hawebake; 8 Clothes of gold, and satins rich of hue. I speak in prose, and let him rhymes make." Their chaffare 24 was so thriftly 25 and so new, And with that word, he with a sober cheer That every wight had dainty 26 to chaffare 27 Began his tale, and said as ye shall hear. With them, and eke to selle them their ware. Now fell it, that the masters of that sort Have shapen them 28 to Rome for to wend, THE TALE.9 Were it for chapmanhood 29 or for disport, None other message would they thither send, O scatheful harm, condition of poverty, But come themselves to Rome, this is the end: With thirst, with cold, with hunger so con- And in such place as thought them avantage founded, For their intent, they took their herbergage.30 To aske help thee shameth in thine heart; Sojourned have these merchants in that town 1 Now called "The Legend of Good Women." The Apollonius Tyrius, seem to be an attack on Gower, names of eight ladies mentioned here are not in the who had given those tales in his book; whence Tyr"Legend" as it has come down to us; while those of whitt concludes that the friendship between the two two ladies in the " Legend"-Cleopatra and Philomela poets suffered some interruption in the latter part of -are here omitted. their lives. Gower was not the inventor of the story, 2 Neck. 3 That wicked. which he found in old French romances; and it is not 4 Deliberately, advisedly. 5 Unnatural. improbable that Chaucer may have gone to the same 6 Not the Muses, who had their surname from the source as Gower, though the latter undoubtedly led the place near Mount Olympus where the Thracians first way. worshipped them; but the nine daughters of Pierus, 10 Expense. 11 Allots amiss. 12 Blamest. king of Macedonia, whom he called the nine Muses, 13 Burn in the fire. and who, being conquered in a contest with the genuine 14 That same neighbour of thine. sisterhood, were changed into birds. 7 Ovid's. Is Wicked, evil. 16 Point. 17 Two aces. 8 Hawbuck, country lout; the common proverbial 18 Six-five. 19 Kingdoms. phrase, "to put a rogue above a gentleman," may throw 20 Contention, war. 21 Barren, empty. light on the reading here, which is difficult. 22 Grave, steadfast. 23 To distant parts. 9 This Tale is believed by Tyrwhitt to have been 24 Wares. 25 Cheap, advantageous. taken, with no material change, from the " Confessio 26 To "have dainty," is to take pleasure in oi esteem Amantis" of John Gower, who was contemporary with a thing. 27 Deal. Chaucer, though somewhat his senior. In the pro- 28 Determined, prepared. 29 Trading. logue, the references to the stories of Canace, and of 30 Lodging. 62 THE CANTERBURY TALES. A certain time, as fell to their pleasance: This Soudan for his privy council sent, And so befell, that th' excellent renown And, shortly of this matter for to pace,? Of th' emperori's daughter, Dame Constance, He hath to them declared his intent, Reported was, with every circumstance, And told them certain, but20 he might have Unto these Syrian merchants in such wise, grace From day to day, as I shall you devise.1 To have Constance, within a little space, This was the common voice of every man: He was but dead; and charged them in hie 21 " Our emperor of Romei, God him see,2 To shape 22 for his life some remedy. A daughter hath, that since the world began, Diverse men diverse thinges said; To reckon as well her goodness as beauty, And arguments they casten up and down; Was never such another as is she: Many a subtle reason forth they laid; I pray to God in honour her sustene, They speak of magic, and abusin;23 And would she were of all Eur6pe the queen. But finally, as in conclusion, " In her is highe beauty without pride, They cannot see in that none &vantage, And youth withoute greenhood 3 or foll: Nor in no other way, save marriage. To all her workes virtue is her guide; Then saw they therein such difficulty Humbless hath slain in her all tyranny: By way of reason, for to speak all plain, She is the mirror of all courtesy, Because that there was such diversity Her heart a very chamber of holiness, Between their bothe lawes, that they sayn, Her hand minister of freedom for almess." 4 They trowe 24 that no Christian prince would And all this voice was sooth, as God is true; fain 25 But now to purpose 5 let us turn again. Wedden his child under our lawe sweet, These merchants have done freight6 their That us was given by Mahound26 our prophete. shippes new, And he answered: "Rather than I lose And when they have this blissful maiden seen, Constance, I will be christen'd doubteless: Home to Syria then they went full fain, I must be hers, I may none other choose, And did their needes, as they have done yore,8 I pray you hold your arguments in peace,27 And liv'd in weal; 9 I can you say no more. Save my life, and be not reckeless Now fell it, that these merchants stood in To gette her that hath my life in cure,28 grace 10 For in this woe I may not long endure." Of him that was the Soudan 1 of Syrie: What needeth greater dilatation? For when they came from any strange place I say, by treaty and ambassadry, He would of his benigne courtesy And by the Pope's mediation, Make them good cheer, and busily espy 12 And all the Church, and all the chivalry, Tidings of sundry regnes,lo for to lear14 That in destruction of Mah'metry,29 The wonders that they mighte see or hear. And in increase of Christe's lawe dear, Amonges other thinges, specially They be accorded30 so as ye may hear; These merchants have him told of Dame Con- How that the Soudan, and his baronage, stance' And all his lieges, shall y-christen'd be, So great nobless, in earnest so royally, And he shall have Constance in marriage, That this Soudan hath caught so great pleasance And certain gold, I n'ot 31 what quantity, To have her figure in his remembrance, And hereto find they suffisant surety. That all his lust,'5 and all his busy cure,16 The same accord is sworn on either side; Was for to love her while his life may dure. Now, fair Constance, Almighty God thee Pariventure in thilk' 17 large book,. guide! Which that men call the heaven, y-written was Now wouldi some men waiten, as I guess, With starrys, when that he his birthe took, That I should tellen all the purveyance,32 That he for love should have his death, alas! The which the emperor of his nobless For in the starris, clearer than is glass, Hath shapen33 for his daughter, Dame ConIs written, God wot, whoso could it read, stance. The death of every man withoute dread. 8 Well may men know that so great ordinance In starres many a winter therebeforn May no man tellen in a little clause, Was writ the death of Hector, Achilles, As was arrayed for so high a cause. Of Pompey, Julius, ere they were born; Bishops be shapen 33 with her for to wend,4 The strife of Thebes; and of Hercules, Lordes, ladies, and knightes of renown, Of Samson, Turnus, and of Socrates And other folk enough, this is the end. The death; but menne's wittes be so dull, And notified is throughout all the town, That no wight can well read it at the full. That every wight with great devotiofn 1 Relate. 2 Save; look on with favour. 17 That. 18 Doubt. 19 To pass briefly by. 3 Childishness, immaturity. 20 Unless. 21 Haste. 22 Contrive. 4 Liberality for deeds of charity. 23 Deception, stratagem. 24 Believe. 5 To our discourse, tale;; French, "propos." 25 Willingly. 26 Mahomet. 6 Caused to be laden. 7 Business. 27 " Peace" rhymed with "lese" and "chese," the 8 Formerly. 9 Prosperity. old forms of "lose" and "choose." 28 Keeping. i 10 Favour. 11 Sultan. 12 Inquire. 13 realms. 29 Mahometanism. 30 Agreed. 31 Know not. 14 Learn. 15 Pleasure. 16 Care. 32 Provision. 33 Prepared. 34 Go. THE MAN OF LAW'S TALE., 63 Should pray to Christ, that he this marriage Was there no philosopher in all thy town? Receive in gree,1 and speede this voyage. Is no time bet 15 than other in such case The day is comen of her departing,- Of voyage is there none electi6n, I say the woful fatal day is come, Namely 1 to folk of high conditi6n, That there may be no longer tarrying, Not when a root is of a birth y-know? 7 But forward they them dressen 2 all and some. Alas! we be too lewed,l8 or too slow. Constance, that was with sorrow all o'ercome, To ship was brought this woeful fairi maid Full pale arose, and dressed her to wend, Solemnely, with every circumstance: For well she saw there was no other end. " Now Jesus Christ be with you all," she said. Alas! what wonder is it though she wept, Thereisno more,but "Farewell, fair Constance." That shall be sent to a strange nation She pained her 19 to make good countenance. From friend's, that so tenderly her kept, And forth I let her sail in this mann6r, And to be bound under subjection And turn I will again to my matter. Of one, she knew not his conditi6n? The mother of the Soudan, well of vices, Husbands be all good, and have been of yore,3 Espied hath her sone's plain intent, That knows wives; I dare say no more. How he will leave his oldd sacrifices: " Father," she said, " thy wretched child Con- And right anon she for her council sent, stance, And they be come, to knowe what she meant, Thy younge daughter, foster'd up so soft, And when assembled was this folk in fere,20 And you, my mother; my sov'reign pleasance She sat her down, and said as ye shall hear. Over all thing, out-taken 4 Christ on loft,5 " Lordes," she said, " ye knowen every one, Constance your child her recommendeth oft How that my son in point is for to lete 21 Unto your grace; for I shall to Syrie, The holy lawes of our Alkaron,22 Nor shall I ever see you more with eye. Given by God's messenger Mahom6te: " Alas! unto the barbarous nati6n But one avow to greate God I hete,23 I must anon, since that it is your will: Life shall rather out of my body start, But Christ, that starf6 for our redempti6n, Than Mahomet's law go out of mine heart. So give me grace his hestis 7 to fulfil. "What should us tiden 24 of this newe law, I, wretched woman, no force though I spill! 8 But thraldom to our bodies, and penance, Women are born to thraldom and penance, And afterward in hell to be y-draw, And to be under manne's governance." For we renied Mahound our creance? 25 I trow at Troy when Pyrrhus brake the wall, But, lordes, will ye maken assurance, Or Ilion burnt, or Thebes the city, As I shall say, assenting to my lore? 2 Nor at Rome for the harm through Hannibal, And I shall make us safe for evermore." That Romans hath y-vanquish'd times three, They sworen and assented every man Was heard such tender weeping for pity, To live with her and die, and by her stand: As in the chamber was for her parting; And every one, in the best wise he can, But forth she must, whether she weep or sing. To strengthen her shall all his friendes fand.27 0 firste moving cruel Firmament,9 And she hath this emprise taken in hand, With thy diurnal sway that crowdest l aye, Which ye shall heare that I shall devise; 28 And hurtlest all from East till Occident And to them all she spake right in this wise. That naturally would hold another way; "We shall first feign us Christendom to take;29 Thy crowding set the heav'n in such array Cold water shall not grieve us but a lite: 30 At the beginning of this fierce voyage, And I shall such a feast and revel make, That cruel Mars hath slain this marriage. That, as I trow, I shall the Soudan quite. 3 Unfortunate ascendant tortuous, For though his wife be christen'd ne'er so Of which the lord is helpless fall'n, alas! white, Out of his angle into the darkest house. She shall have need to wash away the red, O Mars, O Atyzar,l as in this case; Though she a fount of water with her led." O feeble Moon, unhappy is thy pace.l2 O Soudaness,32 root of iniquity, Thou knittest thee where thou art not receiv'd,l3 Virago thou, Semiramis the sec6nd! Where thou wert well, from thennes art thou 0 serpent under femininity, weiv'd.1 Like to the serpent deep in hell y-bound! Imprudent-emperor of Rome, alas O feigned woman, all that may confound 1 With good will, favour. 2 Prepare to set out. 13 Thou joinest thyself where thou art rejected, and 3 Of old. 4 Except. 5 On high. 6 Died. art declined or departed from the place where thou 7 Commands. 8 No matter though I perish. wert well. The Moon portends the fortunes of Con9 According to Middle Age writers there were two stance. 14 Waived, declined. motions of the first heaven; one moving everything 15 Better. 16 Especially. always from east to west above the stars; the other 117 When the nativity is known. moving the stars against the first motion, from west to 18 Ignorant.. 19 Made an effort. east, on two other poles. 20 Together. 21 Forsake. 10 Pushest together, drivest. 22 Koran.? 23 Promise. 24 Betide, befall, 11 The meaning of this word is not known; but 25 For denying Mahomet our belief. 26 Advice. "occifer," murderer, has been suggested instead by 27 Endeavour; from Anglo-Saxon, "fandian," to try. Urry, on the authority of a marginal reading on a 28 Relate.. 29 To embrace Christianity. manuscript. 12 Progress. 30 Little. 31 Requite, match. 32 Sultaness. 64 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Virtue and innocence, through thy malice, There may men feast and royalty behold, Is bred in thee, as nest of every vice! And dainties more than I can you devise; O Satan envious! since thilke day But all too dear they bought it ere they rise. That thou wert chased from our heritage, 0 sudden woe, that ev'r art successoir Well knowest thou to woman th' olde way. To worldly bliss I sprent 16 is with bitterness Thou madest Eve to bring us in scrvage: 1 Th' end of our joy, of our worldly labofr: Thou wilt fordo 2 this Christian marriage: Woe occupies the fine 17 of our gladness. Thine instrument so (well-away the while!) Hearken this counsel, for thy sickerness:18 Mak'st thou of women when thou wilt beguile. Upon thy glade days have in thy mind This Soudaness, whom I thus blame and The unware 19 woe of harm, that comes behind. warray,3 For, shortly for to tell it at a word, Let privily her council go their way: The Soudan and the Christians every one Why should I in this tale longer tarry? Were all to-hewn and sticked at the board,20 She role unto the Soudan on a day, But it were only Dame Constance alone. And said him, that she would reny her lay,4 This olde Soudaness, this cursed crone, And Christendom of priestes' handes fong,5 Had with her friendes done this cursed deed, Repenting her she heathen was so long; For she herself would all the country lead. Beseeching him to do her that honofir, Nor there was Syrian that was converted, That she might have the'Christian folk to That of the counsel of the Soudan wot,2 feast: That was not all to-hewn, ere he asterted: 22 " To please them I will do my labour." And Constance have they ta'en anon foot-hot,23 The Soudan said, " I will do at your hest," And in a ship all steereless,24 God wot, And kneeling, thanked her for that request; They have her set, and bid her learn to sail So glad he was, he wist 7 not what to say. Out of Syria again-ward to Itale.25 She kiss'd her son, and home she went her way. A certain treasure that she thither lad,26 Arrived be these Christian folk to land And, sooth to say, of victual great plenty, In Syria, with a great solemne rout, They have her giv'n, and clothes eke she had, And hastily this Soudan sent his sond,8 And forth she sailed in the salte sea: First to his mother, and all the realm about, O my Constance, full of benignity, And said, his wife was comen out of doubt, 0 emperore's younge daughter dear, And pray'd them for to ride again 9 the queen, He that is lord of fortune be thy steer! 27 The honour of his regne 0 to sustene. She bless'd herself, and with full piteous Great was the press, and rich was the array voice Of Syrians and Romans met in fere.l Unto the cross of Christ thus saide she; The mother of the Soudan rich and gay " O dear, O wealful 2 altar, holy cross, Received her with all so glad a cheer l Red of the Lambe's blood, full of pity, As any mother might her daughter dear: That wash'd the world from old iniquity, And to the nexte city there beside Me from the fiend and from his clawis keep, A softe pace solemnily they ride. That day that I shall drenchen29 in the deep. Nought, trow I, the triumph of Julius, "Victorious tree, protection of the true, Of which that Lucan maketh such a boast, That only worthy were for to bear Was royaller, or more curious, The King of Heaven, with his woundes new, Than was th' assembly of this blissful host: The white Lamb, that hurt was with a spear; But O'this scorpion, this wicked ghost,1l Flemer30 of fiendes out of him and her The Soudaness, for all her flattering On which thy limbes faithfully extend,31 Cast 4 under this full mortally to sting. Me keep, and give me might my life to mend." The Soudan came himself soon after this, Yeares and days floated this creature So royally, that wonder is to tell, Throughout the sea of Greece, unto the strait And welcomed her with all joy and bliss. Of Maroc,32 as it was her aventure: And thus in mirth and joy I let them dwell. On many a sorry meal now may she bait, The fruit of this matter is that I tell; After her death full often may she wait,3" When the time came, men thought it for thebest Ere that the wilde waves will her drive That revel stint,l5 and men go to their rest. Unto the place there as 3 she shall arrive. The time is come that this old Soudaness Men mighten asks, why she was not slain? Ordained hath the feast of which I told, Eke at the feast who might her body save? And to the feast the Christian folk them dress And I answer to that demand again, In general, yea, bothe young and old. Who saved Daniel in the horrible cave, l Bondage. 2 Ruin. 3 Oppose, censure. 20 Cut in pieces and stabbed at table. 21 Knew. 4 Renounce her creed, profession. 22 Escaped. 23 Immediately, in haste. 5 Take; Anglo-Saxon, "fengian;" German, "fan- 24 Without rudder. 25 Back to Italy. gen." 26 Led, took. 27 Rudder, guide. 6 Desire, command. 7 Knew. 8 Message. 28 Blessed, beneficent. 9 To meet. 10 Realm. 11 In company. 29 Drown. 30 Banisher, driver out. 12 Face. 13 Spirit. 14 Contrived. 15 Cease. 31 Out of those who in faith wear the crucifix. 16 Sprinkled. 17 Seizes the end. 32 Morocco; Gibraltar 33 Expect. 18 Security. 19 Unforeseen. 34 Where. __..___,___..._.._______..._...,... _ _ THwi'MA't OP LA W)S TAEi. 5 Where every wight, save he, master or knave,l She said, she was so mazed in the sea, Was with the lion frett,2 ere he astart? 3 That she forgot her minde, by her truth. No wight but God, that he bare in his heart. The Constable had of her so great pity God list 4 to shew his wonderful miracle And eke his wife, that they wept for ruth: 2 In her, that we should see his mighty work&s: She was so diligent withoute slouth Christ, which that is to every harm triacle,5 To serve and please every one in that place, By certain meanes oft, as knowe clerkis,6 That all her lov'd, that looked in her face. Doth thing for certain endS, that full derk is The Constable and Dame Hermegild his wife To manne's wit, that for our ignorance Were Pagans, and that country every where; Ne cannot know his prudent purveyance.7 But Hermegild lov'd Constance as her life; Now since she was not at the feast y-slaw,8 And Constance had so long sojourned there Who kepte her from drowning in the sea? In orisons, with many a bitter tear, Who kept6 Jonas in the fish's maw, Till Jesus had converted through His grace Till he was spouted tip at Nineveh? Dame Hermegild, Constabless of that place. Well may men know, it was no wight but he In all that land no Christians durste rout;25 That kept the Hebrew people from drowning, All Christian folk had fled from that country With drye feet throughout the sea passing. Through Pagans, that conquered all about Who bade the fouri spirits of tempest,9 The plages 26 of the North by land and sea. That power have t' annoy6 land and sea, To Wales had fled the Christianity Both north and south, and also west and east, Of olde Britons,27 dwelling in this isle; Annoye neither sea, nor land, nor tree? There was their refuge for the meanewhile. Soothly the c6mmander of that was he But yet n'ere 28 Christian Britons so exiled, That from the tempest aye this woman kept, That there n'ere 28 some which in their privity As well when she awoke as when she slept. Honoured Christ, and heathen folk beguiled; Where might this woman meat and drinki And nigh the castle such there dwelled three: have? And one of them was blind, and might not see, Three year and more how lasted her vitaille? 10 But29 it were with thilk 30 eyen of his mind, Who fed the Egyptian Mary in the cave With which men maye see when they be blind. Or in desert? no wight but Christ sans faille.n Bright was the sun, as in a summer's day, Five thousand folk it was as great marvaille For which the Constable, and his wife also, With loaves five and fishes two to feed: And Constance, have y-take the rights way God sent his foison 12 at her greatB need. Toward the sea, a furlong way or two, She drived forth into our ocean To playen, and to roami to and fro; Throughout our wilde sea, till at the last And in their walk this blind6 man they met, Under an hold,13 that nempnenl4 I not can, Crooked and old, with eyen fast y-shet.31 Far in Northumberland, the wave her cast, "In the name of Christ," cried this blind And in the sand her ship sticked so fast, Brit6n, That thennis would it not in all a tide: 15 "Dame Hermegild, give me my sight again I " The will of Christ was that she should abide. This lady wax'd afrayed of that soun',32 The Constable of the castle down did fare 16 Lest that her husband, shortly for to sayn, To see this wreck, and all the ship he Would her for Jesus Christe's love have slain, soughtl7 Till Constance made her bold, and bade her And found this weary woman full of care; wirch 33 He found also the treasure that she brought: The will of Christ, as daughter of holy Church. In her language mercy she besought, The Constable wax'd abashed34 of that sight, The life out of her body for to twin, 8 And said6; "What amounteth all this fare?",, Her to deliver of woe that she was in. Constance answered; " Sir, it is Christ's might, A manner Latin corrupt 9 was her speech, That helpeth folk out of the fiende's snare:" But algate 20 thereby was she understond. And so farforth 36 she gan our law declare, The Constable, when him list no longer seech,21 That she the Constable, ere that it were eve, This woeful woman brought he to the lond. Converted, and on Christ made him believe. She kneeled down, and thanked Godd6's This Constable was not lord of the place sond; 22 Of which I speak, there as he Constance fand,37 But what she was she would to no man say But kept it strongly many a winter space, For foul nor fair, although that she should Under Alla, king of Northumberland, dey.23 That was full wise, and worthy of his hand 1 Servant. t Devoured. 19 A kind of bastard Latin. 3 Escaped. 4 It pleased. 20 Nevertheless. 21 Search (in the ship). 5 Treacle; remedy, salve. 6 Scholars. 22 Thanked God for what He had sent. 7 Foresight. 8 Slain. 23 Die. 24 Pity. 9 The four angels who held the four winds of the 25 Assemble. 26 Regions, coasts. earth, and to whom it was given to hurt the earth and 27 Such of the old Britons as were Christians. the sea (Rev. vii. 1, 2). 10 Victuals. 28 Were not. 29 Except. 30 Those. 11 Without fail. 12 Abundance. 31 Closed, shut. 32 Was alarmed by that cry. 13 Castle. 14 Name. 33 Work. 34 Astonished. 15 Thence would it not move for long, at all. 35 What means all this ado? 16 (o. 17 Searched. 18 Divide. 36 So far, with such effect. 7. 3ound, ~ oud 9^6( 2THE CANTERPBUR Y TAtES. Against the Scotes, as men may well hear; And bound Satfin, and yet li'th wher he lay,16 But turn I will again to my mattere. So be thy stronge champion this day: Satan, that ever us waiteth to beguile, For, but Christ upon thee miracle kithe,7 Saw of Constance all her perfectiotn, Withoute guilt thou shalt be slain as swithe.ls And cast 1 anon how he might quite her while;2 She set her down on knees, and thus she said; And made a young knight, that dwelt in that " Immortal God, that savedest Susanne town, From false blame; and thou merciful maid, Love her so hot of foul affectiodn, Mary I mean, the daughter to Saint Anne, That verily him thought that he should spill 3 Before whose child the angels sing Osanne,9 But 4 he of her might ones have his will. If I be guiltless of this felony,20 He wooed her, but it availed nought; My succour be, or elles shall I die." She woulde do no sinne by no way: Have ye not seen sometime a pale face And for despite, he compassed his thought (Among a press) of him that hath been lad 21' To make her a shameful death to dey; 5 Toward his death, where he getteth no grace, He waiteth when the Constable is away, And such a colour in his face hath had, And privily upon a night he crept Men mightd know him that was so bestad 22 In Hermegilda's chamber while she slept. Amonges all the faces in that rout? Weary, forwaked 6 in her orisons, So stood Constance, and looked her about. Sleepeth Constance, and Hermegild also. O queenes living in prosperity, This knight, through Satanas' temptati6ns, Duchesses, and ye ladies every one, All softely is to the bed y-go,7 Have some Suth23 on her adversity! And cut the throat of Hermegild in two, An emperor's daughter, she stood alone; And laid the bloody knife by Dame Constance, She had no wight to whom to make her moan. And went his way, there God give him mis- 0 blood royfl, that standest in this drede24 chance. Far be thy friendes in thy greatS need! Soon after came the Constable home again, This king Alla had such compassi6un, And eke Alla that king was of that land, As gentle heart is full filled of pity, And saw his wife dispiteously 8 slain, That from his eyen ran the water down. For which full oft he wept and wrung his hand; " Now hastily do fetch a book," quoth he; And in the bed the bloody knife he fand "And if this knight will swearS, how that she By Dame Constance: Alas! what might she This woman slew yet will we us advise 25 say? Whom that we will that shall be our justice." 26 For very woe her wit was all away. A Briton book, written with Evangiles,27 To King Alla was told all this mischance, Was fetched, and on this book he swore anon And eke the time, and where, and in what wise, She guilty was; and, in the meanewhiles, That in a ship was founden this Constance, An hand him smote upon the necke bone, As here before ye have me heard devise: 9 That down he fell at once right as a stone: The kinge's heart for pity gan agrise,~0 And both his eyen burst out of his face When he saw so benign a creature In sight of ev'rybody in that place. Fall in disease and in misaventure. A voice was heard, in general audience, For as the lamb toward his death is brought, That said; "Thou hast deslander'd guilteless S? stood this innocent before the king: The daughter of holy Church in high presence; This false knight, that had this treason wrought, Thus hast thou done, and yet hold I my Bore her in hand 12 that she had done this thing: peace? " 28 But natheless there was great murmuring Of this marvel aghast was all the press,'Among the people, that say they cannot guess As mazed folk they stood every one That she had done so great a wickedness. For dread of wreake,29 save Constance alone. For they had seen her ever virtuous, Great was the dread and eke the repentance And loving Hermegild right as her life: Of them that hadde wrong suspici6n Of.this bare witness each one in that house, Upon this sely30 innocent Constance; Save he that Hermegild slew with his knife: And for this miracle, in conclusion, This gentle king had caught a great motife 13 And by Constance's mediati6n, Of this witness, and thought he would in- The king, and many another in that place, quere Converted was, thanked be Christe's grace! Deeper into this case, the truth to lear.14 This false knight was slain for his untruth Alas! onstance, thou has no champion, By judgement of Alla hastily; Nor fighte canst thou not, so well-away! And yet Constance had of his death great ruth;31 But he that starf 15 for our redempti6n, And after this Jesus of his mercy 1 Deliberated, contrived. 15 Died. 16 That lieth yet where he was laid. 2 Repay her labour, revenge himself on her. 17 Show. 18 Immediately. 19 Hosanna. 3 Perish. 4 Unless. 20 Cruelty, wickedness. 21 Led. 5 Die. 6 Having been long awake. 22 Bested, situated. 23 Pity. 7 Gone. 8 Cruelly. 9 Describe. 24 Dread, danger. 25 Consider. 10 To be grieved, to tremble. 11 Distress. 26 Judge. 27 The Gospels. 22 Accused her falsely. 28 And shall I be silent? 29 Vengeance. 13-eecn greatly moved by the evidence. 14 Learn. 30 Simple, harmless. 31 Compassion. THE MAN OF LA W'S TAL. 6. Made Alla wedde full solemnily And stolen were his letters privily This holy woman, that is so bright and sheen, Out of his box, while he slept as a swine; And thus hath Christ y-made Constance a queen. And counterfeited was full subtilly But who was woeful, if I shall not lie, Another letter, wrote full sinfully, Of this wedding but Donegild, and no mo', Unto the king, direct of this matt~re The kinge's mother, full of tyranny,? From his Constable, as ye shall after hear. Her thought her cursed heart would burst in This letter said, the queen deliver'd was two; Of so horrible a fiendlike creature, She would not that her son had done so; That in the castle none so hardy 5 was Her thought it a despite that he should take That any while he durst therein endure: So strange a creature unto his make.1 - The mother was an elf by fventure Me list not of the chaff nor of the stre 2 Become,16 by charmis or by sorcery, Make so long a tale, as of the corn. And every man hated her company.. What should I tellen of the royalty Woe was this king when he this letter had Of this marriage, or which course goes beforn, seen, Who bloweth in a trump or in an horn? But to no wight he told his sorrows sore, The fruit of every tale is for to say; Butwith his owen hand he wrote again; They eat and drink, and dance, and sing, and "Welcome the sond 17 of Christ for evermore play. To me, that am now learned in this lore: 1 They go to bed, as it was skill 3 and right Lord, welcome be thy lust 19 and thy pleasance, For though that wives be full holy things, My lust I put all in thine ordinance. They muste take in patience at night "Keepe 20 this child, all be it foul or fair, Such manner 4 necessaries as be pleasings And eke my wife, unto mine homecoming: To folk that have y-wedded them with rings, Christ when him list may send to me an heir, And lay a lite 5 their holiness aside. More agreeable than this to my liking+" As for the time, it may no better betide. This letter he sealed, privily weeping, On her he got a knave 6 child anon, Which to the messenger was taken soon, And to a Bishop and to his Constable eke And forth he went, there is no more to da'n.2 He took his wife to keep, when he is gone O messenger full fill'd of drunkenness, To Scotland-ward, his foemen for to seek. Strong is thy breath, thy limbes falter aye, Now fair Constance, that is so humble and And thou betrayest alle secretness; meek, Thy mind is lorn,22 thou janglest as a jay; So long is gone with childd till that still Thy face is turned in a new array;23 She held her chamb'r, abiding Christe's will. Where drunkenness reigneth in any rout,24 The time is come, a knavi child she bare; There is no counsel hid, withoute doubt. Mauricius at the font-stone they him call. O Donegild, I have none English dign 2 This Constable doth forth come 7 a messenger, Unto thy malice, and thy tyranny: And wrote unto his king that clep'd was All', And therefore to the fiend I thee resign, How that this blissful tiding is befall, Let him indite of all thy treachery. And other tidings speedful for to say. Fy, mannish,26 fy! O nay, by God I lie; He 8 hath the letter, and forth he go'th his Fy, fiendlike spirit! for I dare well tell, way. Though thou here walk, thy spirit is in hell. This messenger, to do his avantage,9 This messenger came from the king again, Unto the kinge's mother rideth swithe,lo And at the kinge's mother's court he light,27 And salueth 1 her full fair in his language. And she was of this messenger full fain,28 " Madame," quoth he, " ye may be glad and And pleased him in all that e'er she might. blithe, He drank, and well his girdle underpight;29 And thanke God an hundred thousand sithe;i2 He slept, and eke he snored in his guise My lady queen hath child, withoute doubt, All night, until the sun began to rise. To joy and bliss of all this realm about. Eft 3 were his letters stolen every one, "Lo, here the letter sealed of this thing, And counterfeited letters in this wise: That I must bear with all the haste I may: The king commanded his Constable anon, If ye will aught unto your son the king, On pain of hanging and of high jewise,3 I am your servant both by night and day." That he should suffer in no manner wise Donegild answdr'd, " As now at this time, nay; Constance within his regne 32 for to abide But here I will all night thou take thy rest, Three dayBs, and a quarter of a tide;33 To-morrow will I say thee what me lest." 3 But in the samS ship as he.her fand, This messenger drank sadly 14 ale and wine, Her and her youngd son, and all her gear, 1 Mate, consort. 2 Straw. 17 The will, sending. 18 By his conversion. 3 Reasonable. 4 Kind of. 5 Little. 19 Will, pleasure. 20 Preserve. 6 Male; German, " Knabe," boy. 21 Do. 22 ost. 23 Aspect. 7 Caused to come forth. 8 The messenger. 24 Company. 25 Worthy. 9 Promote his own interest. o1 Swiftly. 26 Unwomanly woman. 27 Alighted, 28 Glad. 11 Greets. 12 Times.: 13 Pleases. 29 Packed, stuffed his belt, stowed away liquor under 14 Steadily. 15 Bold, brave.' his girdle. 30 Again.. 1 Judgment, doom. 16 Had by ill-chance become an elf, a witch. 32 Kingdom. 33 A fourth of the time. ~~ —-~~ 1CU Kingdom. 6 Complain. 40 Even though. _. ____ _ _____.,... ~ _..., __ _. THE WIFE OF BA TH'S TALE. 7 Or elles oftentime I had been spilt.1 And since a man is more reas6nable Whoso first cometh to the mill, first grint;2 Than woman is, ye must be suff'rable. I plained first, so was our war y-stint. 3 What aileth you to grudge 23 thus and groan? They were full glad to excuse them full blive 4 Is it for ye would have my [love] alone? Of things that they never aguilt their live.5 Why, take it all: lo, have it every deal.24 Of wenches would I beard them on hand,6 Peter! 25 I shrew 26 you but ye love it well. When that for sickness scarcely might they For if I woulde sell my belle chose, stand, I coulde walk as fresh as is a rose, Yet tickled I his hearts for that he But I will keep it for your owen tooth. Ween'd 7 that I had of him so great cherte: 8 Ye be to blame, by God, I say you sooth." I swore that all my walking out by night Such manner wordes haddd we on hand. Was for to espy wenches that he dight: 9 Now will I speaken of my fourth husband. Under that colour had I many a mirth.. My fourthe husband was a revellour; For all such wit is given us at birth; This is to say, he had a paramour, Deceit, weeping, and spinning, God doth give And I was young and full of ragerie,2 To women kindly,'~ while that they may live. Stubborn and strong, and jolly as a pie. And thus of one thing I may vaunte me, Then could I dance to a harpe snmale, At th' end I had the better in each degree, And sing, y-wis,28 as any nightingale, By sleight, or force, or by some manner thing, When I had drunk a draught of sweete wine. As by continual murmur or grudging," Metellius, the foule churl, the swine, Namely12 a-bed, there hadde they mischance, That with a staff bereft his wife of life There would I chide, and do them no pleasance: For29 she drank wine, though I had been his I would no longer in the bed abide, wife, If that I felt his arm over my side, Never should he have daunted me from drink: Till he had made his ransom unto me, And, after wine, of Venus most I think. Then would I suffer him do his nicety.13 For all so sure as cold engenders hail, And therefore every man this tale I tell, A liquorish mouth must have a liquorish tail. Win whoso may, for all is for to sell; In woman vinolent 30 is no defence,31 With empty hand men may no hawkis lure; This knowe lechours by experiehce. For winning would I all his will endure, But, lord Christ, when that it rememb'reth me And make me a feigned appetite,- Upon my youth, and on my jollity, And yet in bacon 14 had I never delight: It tickleth me about mine hearte-root; That made me that I ever would them chide. Unto this day it doth mine hearte boot,32 For, though the Pope had sitten them beside, That I have had my world as in my time. I would not spare them at their owen board, But age, alas! that all will envenime,33 For, by my troth, I quit 15 them word for word. Hath me bereft my beauty and my pith: 34 As help me very God omnipotent, Let go, farewell; the devil go therewith. Though I right now should make my testament, The flour is gone, there is no more to tell, I owe them not a word, that is not quit, The bran, as I best may, now must I sell. I brought it so aboute by my wit, But yet to be right merry will I fand.35 That they must give it up, as for the best, Now forth to tell you of my fourth husband. Or elles had we never been in rest. I say, I in my heart had great despite, For, though he looked as a woodl6 li6n, That he of any other had delight; Yet should he fail of his conclusion. But he was quit,36 by God and by Saint Joce: 7 Then would I say, "Now, goode lefe,17 take I made for him of the same wood a cross; keep 18 Not of my body in no foul mannere, How meekly looketh Wilken oure sheep! But certainly I made folk such cheer, Come near, my spouse, and let me ba 9 thy That in his owen grease I made him fry cheek. For anger, and for very jealousy. Ye shoulde be all patient and meek, By God, in earth I was his purgatory, And have a sweet y-spiced 20 conscience, For which I hope his soul may be in glory. Since ye so preach of Jobe's patience. For, God it wot, he sat full oft and sung, Suffer alway, since ye so well can preach, When that his shoe full bitterly him wrung.38 And but 21 ye do, certain we shall you teach There was no wight, save God and he, that wist That it is fair to have a wife in peace. In many wise how sore I did him twist. One of us two must bowe 22 doubteless: He died when I came from Jerusalem, 1 Ruined. 2 Is ground. 3 Stopped. 25 By Saint Peter I a common adjuration, like Marie 4 Quickly. 5 Were never guilty of in their lives. from the Virgin's name. 26 Curse. 6 Falsely accuse them. 7 Thought. 27 Wantonness. 28 Certainly.,8 Affection; from French, "cher," dear. 29 Because. so Full of wine. 81 Resistance..9 Adorned; took to himself. 10 Naturally. 32 Good. 33 Poison, embitter. 34 Vigour. 11 Complaining. 12 Especially. 35 Try. 36 Requited. 13 Folly; French, "niaiserie." 37 Or Judocus, a saint of Ponthieu, in France. 14 The bacon of Dunmow. 15 Requited, repaid. 3g Pinched.'An allusion," says Mr Wright, "to 16 Furious. 17 Dear. 18 Heed, notice. the story of the Roman sage who, when blamed for 19 Kiss; from French, "baiset." divorcing his wife, said that a shoe' might appear outio Tender, nice. -21 Unless. wardly to fit well, but no one but the wearer kiew s2 Bend, give way. 23 Murmur. 24 Whit. where it pinohed". 6 TTHE CANTERBURY TALES. And lies in grave under the roode beam: 1 Was shapenl4 for to be, or in what place? Although his tomb is not so curious Therefore made I my visitations As was the sepulchre of Darius, To vigilies,l and to processi6ns, Which that Apelles wrought so subtlely. To preachings eke, and to these pilgrimages, It is but waste to bury them preciously. To plays of miracles, and marriages, Let him fare well, God give his soule rest, And weared upon me gay scarlet gites.1G He is now in his grave and in his chest. These wormes, nor these mothes, nor these Now of my fifthe husband will I tell: mites God let his soul never come into hell. On my apparel frett 17 them never a deal 8 And yet was he to me the moste shrew; 2 And know'st thou why? for they were used19 That feel I on my ribbes all by rew,3 well. And ever shall, until mine ending day. Now will I telli forth what happen'd me: But in our bed he was so fresh and gay, I say, that in the fieldes walked we, And therewithal so well he could me glosc,4 Till truely we had such dalliance, When that he woulde have my belle chose, This clerk and I, that of my purveyance 20 Though le had beaten me on every bone, I spake to him, and told him how that he, Yet could he win again my love anon. If I were widow, shoulde wedde me. I trow, I lov'd him bbtter, for that he For certainly, I say for no bobance,2 Was of his love so dangerous 5 to me. Yet was I never without purveyance 20 We women have, if that I shall not lie, Of marriage, nor of other thingis eke: In this matter a quainte fantasy. I hold a mouse's wit not worth a leek, Whatever thing we may not lightly have, That hath but one hole for to starte to,22 Thereafter will we cry all day and crave. And if that faile, then is all y-do.23 Forbid us thing, and that desire we; [I bare him on hand 24 he had enchanted me Press on us fast, and thennB will we flee. (My dami taughte me that subtilty); With danger 6 utter we all our chaffare; 7 And eke I said, I mette 25 of him all night, Great press at market maketh deare ware, He would have slain me, as I lay upright, And too great cheap is held at little price; And all my bed was full of very blood; This knoweth every woman that is wise. But yet I hop'd that he should do me good; My fifthe husband, God his soule bless, For blood betoken'd gold, as me was taught. Which that I took for love and no rich6ss, And all was false, I dream'd of him right He some time was a clerk of Oxenford,8 naught, And had left school, and went at home to board But as I follow'd aye my dame's lore, With my gossip, dwelling in ourU town: As well of that as of other things more.] God have her soul, her name was Alisoun. But now, sir, let me see, what shall I sayn? She knew my heart, and all my privity, Aha! by God, I have my tale again. Bet than our parish priest, so may I th6.9 When that my fourths husband was on bier, To her betrayed I my counsel all; I wept algate 2 and made a sorry cheer,7 For had my husband pissed on a wall, As wives must, for it is the usage; Or done a thing that should have cost his life, And with my kerchief covered my visage; To her, and to another worthy wife, But, for I was provided with a make,8 And to my niece, which that I loved well, I wept but little, that I undertake.29 I would have told his counsel every deal.l0 To churche was mine husband borne a-morrow And so I did full often, God it wot, With neighibours that for him made sorrow, That made his face full often rod and hot And Jenkin, oure clerk, was one of tho:o3 For very shame, and blam'd himself, for he As help me God, when that I saw him go Had told to me so great a privity.l After the bier, methought he had a pair And so befell that ones in a Lent Of legg6s and of feet so clean and fair, (So oftentimes I to my gossip went, That all my heart I gave unto his hold.3 For ever yet I loved to be gay, He was, I trow, a twenty winter old, And for to walk in March, April, and May And I was forty, if I shall say sooth, From house to house, to heard sundry tales), But yet I had always a colte's tooth. That Jenkin clerk, and my gossip, Dame Ales, Gat-toothed32 I was, and that became me And I myself, into the fieldes went. well, Mine husband was at London all that Lent; I had the print of Sainte Venus' seal. I had the better leisure for to play, [As help me God, I was a lusty one, And for to see, and eke for to be sey 12 And fair, and rich, and young, and well beOf lusty folk; what wist I where my grace 13 gone:33 1 Cross. 2 Cruel, ill-tempered. 3 In a row. 22 A very old proverb in French, German, and Latin..4 Flatter. 5 Sparing, difficult. 6 Difficulty. "StartS," to escape. 23 Done. 7 Merchandise. 8 A scholar of Oxford. 9 Thrive. 24 Falsely assured him. 25 Dreamed. 10 Jot. 11 Secret. 12 Seen. 13 Favour. 26 Always. 27 Countenance. 28 Mate. 14 Appointed. 15 Festival-eves. See note 21, page 21. 29 Promise. 30 Those. 31 Keeping. 16 Gowns. 17 Fed. 18 Whit. 32 Gap-toothed; goat-toothed; or cat- or separate 19 Worn. 20 Foresight, toothed. See note 14, page 22. 21 Boasting; Ben Jonson's braggart, ip "]lvery lan 33 In a good way. The lines in brackets are only in in his Humour," is named Bobadil. some of the manuscripts, THE WIFE OF BA TH'S TALE. 7 For certes I am all venerian I hate them that my vices telle me, In feeling, and my heart is martian; And so do more of us (God wot) than I. Venus me gave my lust and liquorishness, This made him wood 18 with me all utterly; And Mars gave me my sturdy hardiness.] I wouldi not forbear19 him in no case. Mine ascendant was Taure,2 and Mars there- Now will I say you sooth, by Saint Thomas, in: Why that I rent out of his book a leaf, Alas, alas, that ever love was sin! For which he smote me, so that I was deaf. I follow'd aye mine inclinati6n He had a book, that gladly night and day By virtue of my constellati6n: For his disport he would it read alway; That made me that I couldd not withdraw He call'd it Valerie,20 and Theophrast, My chamber of Venus from a good fellaw. And with that book he laugh'd alway full fast. [Yet have I Marte's mark upon my face, And eke there was a clerk sometime at Rome, And also in another privy place. A cardinal, that highte Saint Jerome, For God so wisly 3 be my salvation, That made a book against Jovinian, I loved never by discreti6n, Which book was there; and eke Tertullian, But ever follow'd mine own appetite, Chrysippus, Trotula, and Heloise, All4 were he short, or long, or black, or white, That was an abbess not far from Paris; I took no keep,5 so that he liked me, And eke the Parables 21 of Solomon, How poor he was, neither of what degree.] Ovidi's Art,22 and bourdds 23 many one; What should I say? but that at the month's And alle these were bound in one volume. end And every night and day was his custume This joll' clerk Jenkin, that was so hend,6 (When he had leisure and vacati6n Had wedded me with great solemnity, From other worldly occupati6n) And to him gave I all the land and fee To readen in this book of wicked wives. That ever was me given therebefore: He knew of them more legends and more lives But afterward repented me full sore. Than be of goode wives in the Bible. He woulde suffer nothing of my list.7 For, trust me well, it is an impossible By God, he smote me onis with his fist, That any clerk will speake good of wives, For that I rent out of his book a leaf, (But if 24 it be of holy saintis' lives) That of the stroke mine eare wax'd all deaf. Nor of none other woman never the mo'. Stubborn I was, as is a lioness, Who painted the li6n, tell it me, who? And of my tongue a very jangleress,8 By God, if women haddd written stories, And walk I would, as I had done beforn, As clerkes have within their orat6ries, From house to house, although he had it They would have writ of men more wickedness sworn: 9 Than all the mark of Adam 25 may redress. For which he oftentimes wouldi preach, The children of Mercury and of Venus,26 And me of oldi Roman gestis 10 teach. Be in their working full contrarious. How that Sulpitius Gallus left his wife, Mercury loveth wisdom and science, And her forsook for term of all his life, And Venus loveth riot and dispence.27 For nought but open-headed 11 he her say 2 And for their diverse dispositi6n, Looking out at his door upon a day. Each falls in other's exaltati6n.28 Another Roman 13 told he me by name, As thus, God wot, Mercfry is desolate That, for his wife was at a summer game In Pisces, where Venus is exaltite, Without his knowing, he forsook her,eke. And Venus falls where Mercury is raised. And then would he upon his Bible seek Therefore no woman by no clerk is praised. That ilki 14 proverb of Ecclesiast, The clerk, when he is old, and may not do Where he commandeth, and forbiddeth fast, Of Venus' works not worth his olde shoe, Man shall not suffer his wife go roll about. Then sits he down, and writes in his dotage, Then would he say right thus withouti doubt: That' women cannot keep their marriage. "Whoso that buildeth his house all of sallows,15 But now to purpose, why I tolde thee And pricketh his blind horse over thefallows, That I was beaten for a book, pardie. And suff'reth his wife to go seeke hallows,16 Upon a night Jenkin, that was our sire 29 Is worthy to be hanged on the gallows." Read on his book, as he sat by the fire, But all for nought; I settB not a haw 17 Of Eva first, that for her wickedness Of his proverbs, nor of his olde saw; Was all mankind brought into wretchedness, Nor would I not of him corrected be. For which that Jesus Christ himself was slain, 1 Under the influence of Mars. 21 Proverbs. 22," Ars Amoris." 2 Taurus, the Bull. 3 Certainly. 4 Whether. 23 Jests. 24 Unless. 5 Heed. 6 Handsome courteous. 7 Pleasure. 25 All who bear the mark of Adam-all men. 8 Prater. 9 iad sworn to prevent it. 26 Those born under the influence of the respective 10 Stories. 11 Bare-headed. 12 Saw. planets. 27 Expense. 13 Sempronius Sophus, of whom Valerius Maximus 28 A planet, according to the old astrologers, was in tells in his sixth book. 14 Same. 15 Willows. "exaltation" when in the sign of the Zodiac in which 16 Make pilgrimages to shrines of saints. it exerted its strongest influence; the opposite sign, in 17 Cared not a straw. which it was weakest, was called its "dejection." 18 Furious. 19 Endure, bear with. Venus being strongest in Pisces, was weakest in Virgo;.20 The tract of Walter Mapes against marriage, pub- but in Virgo Mercury was in " exaltation." lished under the title of' Epistola Valirii ad guflqum." 9 Coodman. ~~ ~'. —-~I'" -~"!m."""Irl~~? —---— ~ ~.^^~'~ w~w~w~~~^'~ ~~^^F~...~...~LU,..LT~~~~~~~I III ~*W~)C-~-~ -^~" —- ~ ---- 78'-THE CXANTERB URY TALES.' That bought us with his hearte-blood again. Than with a woman using for to chide. Lo here express of women may ye find Better (quoth he) high in the roof abide, That woman was the loss of all mankind. Than with an angry woman in the house, Then read he me how Samson lost his hairs They be so wicked and contrariofs: Sleeping, his leman cut them with her shears, They hate that their husbands loven aye." Through whichi treason lost he both his eyen. He said, " A woman cast her shame away Then read he me, if that I shall not lien, When she cast off her smock;" and farthermo', Of Hercules, and of his Dejanire, "A fair woman, but 8 she be chaste also, That caused him to set himself on fire. Is like a gold ring in a sowe's nose." Nothing forgot he of the care and woe Who coulde ween,9 or who coulde suppose That Socrates had with his wives two; The woe that in mine heart was, and the How Xantippe cast piss upon his head. pine?'~ This silly man sat still, as he were dead, And when I saw that he would never fine' He wip'd his head, and no more durst he sayn, To readen on this cursed book all night, But, "Ere the thunder stint. there cometh All suddenly three leaves have I plight 12 rain." Out of his book, right as he read, and eke Of Phasiphae, that was queen of Crete, I with my fist so took him on the cheek, For shrewedness 2 he thought the tale sweet. That in our fire he backward fell adown. Fy, speak no more, it is a grisly thing, And he up start, as doth a wood li6n, Of her horrible lust and her liking. And with his fist he smote me on the head, Of Clytemnestra, for her lechery That on the floor I lay as I were dead. That falsely made her husband for to die, And when he saw how still that there I lay, He read it with full good devoti6n. He was aghast, and would have fled away, He told me eke, for what occasi6n Till at the last out of my swoon I braid,l3 Amphiorax at Thebes lost his life: "Oh, hast thou slain me, thou false thief?" I My husband had a legend of his wife said, Eryphil6, that for an ouche 3 of gold "And for my land thus hast thou murder'd me? Had privily unto the Greekis told, Ere I be dead, yet will I kisse thee." Where that her husband hid him in a place, And near he came, and kneeled fair adown, For which he had at Thebes sorry grace. And saide, " Deare sister Alisoun, Of Luna told he me, and of Lucie; As help me God, I shall thee never smite: They both8 made their husbands for to die, That I have donet t is thyself to wite,14 That one for love, that other was for hate. Forgive it me, and that I thee beseek." " Luna her husband on an evening late And yet eftsoons 16 I hit him on the cheek, Empoison'd had, for that she was his foe: An. saide, " Thief, thus much am I awreak.l7 Lucia liquorish lov'd her husband so, No-rvill I die, I may no longer speak." That, for he should always upon her think, But at the last, with muche care and woe She gave him such a manner4 love-drink, We fell accorded'8 by ourselves two: That he was dead before it were the morrow: He gave me all the bridle in mine hand And thus algates 5 husbands hadde sorrow; To have the governance of house and land, Then told he me how one Latumeus And of his tongue, and of his hand also. Complained to his fellow Arius I made him burn his book anon right-tho.19 That in his garden growed such a tree, And when that I had gotten unto me On which he said how that his wives three By mast'ry all the sovereignety, Hanged themselves for heart dispiteous. And that he said, "Mine owen true wife, " O leve 6 brother," quoth this Arius, Do as thee list,20 the term of all thy life, " Give me a plant of thilke 7 blessed tree, Keep thine honofir, and eke keep mine estate; " And in my garden planted shall it be." After that day we never had debate. Of later date of wives hath he read, God help me so, I was to him as kind That some have slain their husbands in their As any wife from Denmark unto Ind, bed, And also true, and so was he to me: And let their lechour dight them all the night, I pray to God that sits in majesty While that the corpse lay on the floor upright: So bless his soulS, for his mercy dear. And some have driven nails into their brain, Now will I say my tale, if ye will hear.While that they slept, and thus they have them slain:' The Friar laugh'd when he had heard all this: Some have them given poison in their drink: "Now, Dame," quoth he, " so have I joy and He spake more harm than hearte may bethink. bliss, And therewithal he knew of more prov6rbs, This is a long preamble of a tale." Than in this world there groweth grass or herbs. And when the Sompnour heard the Friar gale,21 "Better (quoth he) thine habitation "Lo," quoth this Sompnour, "Godd'es armes Be with a lion, or a foul drag6n, two, 1 Ceases. 2 Wickedness. 31 Woke. I4 Blame. 15 Beseech. 3 Clasp, collar. 4 Sort of. 5 Always. 16 Immediately; again. 17 Avenged. 6 Dear. 7 That. 8 Except. 9 Think. is Agreed. 19 Then. 20 Pleases thee. 10 Pain. 11 Have done, end. 12 Plucked. 21 Speak, flout; "chaff." THE WIFE OF BA TV'S TALE. LE A friar will intermete 1 him evermo': And so befell it, that this king Arthour Lo, goods men, a fly and eke a frere Had in his house a lusty bachelor, Will fall in ev'ry dish and eke mattere. That on a day came riding from rivyr: 17 What speak'st thou of perambulatioin? 2 And happen'd, that, alone as she was born, What? amble or trot; or peace, or go sit down: He saw a maiden walking him beforn, Thou lettest3 our disport in this mattdre." Of which maiden anon, maugr 18 her head, " Yea, wilt thou so, Sir Sompnour? " quoth the By very force he reft her maidenhead: Frere; For which oppressi6n was such clamour, "'ow by my faith I shall, ere that I go, And such pursuit unto the king Arthotr, Tell of a Sompnour such a tale or two, That damned 9 was this knight for to be dead That all the folk shall laughen in this place." By course of law, and should have lost his head; "Now do, else, Friar, I beshrew4 thy face," (Paraventure such20 was the statute tho),21 Quoth this Sompnour; "and I beshrewe me, But that the queen and other ladies mo' 3ut if 5 I telle tales two or three So long they prayed the king of his grace, Of friars, ere I come to Sittingbourne, Till he his life him granted in the place, That I shall make thine hearte for to mourn: And gave him to the queen, all at her will For well I wot thy patience is gone." To choose whether she would him save or spill.22 Our Hoste cried, " Peace, and that anon; " The queen thanked the king with all her might And saide, " Let the woman tell her tale. And, after this, thus spake she to the knight, Ye fare6 as folk that drunken be of ale. When that she saw her time upon a day. Do, Dame, tell forth yourtale, and that is best." "Thou standest yet," quoth she, "in such "All ready, sir," quoth she, " right as you lest,7 array,23 If I have licence of this worthy Frere." That of thy life yet hast thou no surety; "Yes, Dame," quoth he, "tell forth, and I will I grant thee life, if thou canst tell to me hear." What thing is it that women most desiren: -~~) ~Beware, and keep thy neck-bone from the THE TALE.8 iron.24 And if thou canst not tell it me anon, In olde dayes of the king Arthour, Yet will I give thee leave for to gon Of which that Britons speake great honofr, A twelvemonth and a day, to seek and lear25 All was this land full fll'd of faerie; 9 An answer suffisant 26 in this mattere. The Elf-queen, with her jolly company, And surety will I have, ere that thou pace,27 Danced full oft in many a green mead. Thy body for to yieiden in this place." This was the old opinion, as I read; Woe was the knight, and sorrowfully siked; 2 I speak of many hundred years ago; But what? he might not do all as him liked. But now can no man see none elves mo', And at the last he chose him for to wend,2 For now the great charity and prayeres And come again, right at the yeare's end, Of limitours,l and other holy freres, With such answer as God would him purvey:3 That search every land and ev'ry stream, And took his leave, and wended forth his way. As thick as motes in the sunne-beam, He sought in ev'ry house and ev'ry place, Blessing halls, chambers, kitchenes, and bowers, Where as he hoped for to finde grace, Cities and burghes, castles high and towers, To learne what thing women love the most: Thorpes 11 and barnes, shepens 2 and dairies, But he could not arrive in any coast, This makes that there be now no faeries: Where as he mighte find in this mattere For there as 13 wont to walke was an elf, Two creatures according in fere.31 There walketh now the limitour himself, Some said that women loved best richiss, In undermels 14 and in morrownings,; Some said honoftr, and some said jolliness, And saith his matins and his holy things, Some rich array, and some said lust 32 a-bed, As he goes in his limitatioftn.15 And oft time to be widow.and be wed. Women may now go safely up and down, Some said, that we are in our heart most eased In every bush, and under every tree; When that we are y-flatter'd and y-praised. There is none other incubus 16 but he; He went full nigh the sooth,23 I will not lie; And he will do to them no dishonofr. A man shall win us best with flattery; 1 Interpose; French, "entremettre." 12 Stables, sheep-pens. 13 Where. 2 Preamble. Some editions print "preambulation," 14 Evening-tides, afternoons;'undern" signifies the but the word in the text seems meant to show up the evening; and "mele," corresponds to the German ignorance of the clergy, as Chaucerlost no occasion of " Mal " or " Mahl," time. 15 Begging district. doing., 3 linderest. 4 Curse. 16 An evil spirit supposed to do violence to'women; 5 Unless. 6 Behave. 7 Please. a nightmare. 8 It is not clear whence Chaucer derived this tale. 17 Where he had been hawking after waterfowl. Tyrwhitt thinks it was taken from the story of Flo- Froissart says that any one engaged in this sport rent, in the first book of Gower's " Confessio Aman- 4 alloit en rivibre." 18 Spite of. tis,;" or perhaps from an older narrative from which 19 Condemned. 20 For as it happened, such. Gower himself borrowed. Chaucer has condensed and 21 Then. 22 Execute, destroy. otherwise improved the fable, especially by laying the 23 In such a position. 24 The executioner's axe. scene, not in Sicily, but at the court of our own King 25 Learn. 26 Satisfactory. Arthur. 9 Fairies; French, "feerie." 27 G. 28 Sighed. 29 Depart. 10 Begging friars. See note 27, page 19. 30 Provide him with. 31 Agreeing together. 11 Villages. Compare German, "Dorf." 32 Pleasure. 33 Came very near the truth, 86 2t1 iArTHE CA4NTERPB R F rALES. ~ And with attendance, and with business Where as he saw upon a dance go Be we y-limdd,l bothd more and less. Of ladies four-and-twenty, and yet mo'. And some men said that we do love the best Toward this ilk1e6 dance he drew full yern,17 For to be free, and do right as us lest,2 In hope that he some wisdom there should learn; And that no man reprove us of our vice, But certainly, ere he came fully there, But say that we are wise, and nothing nice,3 Y-vanish'd was this dance, he knew not where; For truly there is none among us all, No creature saw he that bare life, If any wight will claw us on the gall,4 Save on the green he sitting saw a wife,That will not kick, for that he saith us sooth: A fouler wight there may no man devise.ls Assay, and he shall find it, that so do'th. Against 19 this knight this old wife gan to rise, For be we never so viciofs within, And said, " Sir Knight, hereforth20 lieth no way, We will be held both wise and clean of sin. Tell me what ye are seeking, by your fay.21 And some men said, that great delight have we Paraventure it may the better be: For to be held stable and eke secrd,6 These oldd folk know much5 thing," quoth she. And in one purpose steadfastly to dwell, My lev5 22 mother," quoth this knight, "cerAnd not bewray a thing that men us tell. tin, But that tale is not worth a raki-stele.7 I am but dead, but if 23 that I can sayn Pardie, we women canne nothing heles What thing it is that women most desire: Witness on Midas; will ye hear the tale? Could ye me wiss,24 I would well quite your Ovid, amongis other thing's smale,9 hire." 25 Saith, Midas had, under his longe hairs, "Plight me thy troth here in mine hand," Growing upon his head two ass's ears; quoth she, The which6 vice he hid, as best he might, "The nexte thing that I require of thee Full subtlely from every man's sight, Thou shalt it do, if it be in thy might, That, save his wife, there knew of it no mo'; And I will tell it thee ere it be night." He lov'd her most, and trusted her also; " Have here my trothe," quoth the knight; "I He prayed her, that to no creature grant." She woulde tellen of his disfigfire.l0 " Thenne," quoth she, " I dare me well avaunt,28 She swore him, nay, for all the world to win, Thy life is safe, for I will stand thereby, She would not do that villainy or sin, Upon my life the queen will say as I: To make her husband have so foul a name: Let see, which is the proudest of them all, She would not tell it for her owen shame. That wears either a kerchief or a caul, But natheless her thoughts that she died, That dare say nay to that I shall you teach. That she so longe should a counsel hide; Let us go forth withoute longer speech." Her thought it swell'd so sore about her heart, Then rowned she a pistel 27 in his ear That needis must some word from her astart; And bade him to be glad, and have no fear. And, since she durst not tell it unto man, When they were come unto the court, this Down to a marish fast thereby she ran, knight Till she came there, her heart was all afire: Said, he had held his day, as he had hight,28 And, as a bittern bumbles 1 in the mire, And ready was his answer, as he said. She laid her mouth unto the water down. Full many a noble wife, and many a maid, "Bewray me not, thou water, with thy soun'," 12 And many a widow, for that they be wise,Quoth she, "to thee I tell it, and no mo', The queen herself sitting as a justice,Mine husband hath long ass's eares two! Assembled be, his answer for to hear, Now is mine heart all whole; now is it out; And afterward this knight was bid appear. I might no longer keep it, out of doubt." To every wight commanded was silence, Here may ye see, though we a time abide, And that the knight should tell in audience Yet out it must, we can no counsel hide. What thing that worldly women love the best. The remnant of the tale, if ye will hear, This knight he stood not still, as doth a beast, Read in Ovid, and there ye may it lear.13 But to this questi6n anon answer'd This knight, of whom my tale is specially, With manly voice, that all the court it heard, When that he saw he might not come thereby, - " My liege lady, generally," quoth he, That is to say, what women love the most,- " Women desire to have the sovereignty Within his breast full sorrowful was his ghost.14 As well over their husband as their love, But home he went, for he might not sojourn, And for to be in mast'ry him above. The day was come, that homeward he must turn. This is your most desire, though ye me kill, And in his way it happen'd him to ride, Do as you list, I am here at your will." In all his care,l1 under a forest side, In all the court there was no wife nor maid, 1 Caught, as birds with lime. 12 Sound. 13 Learn. 14 Spirit 2 Pleases. 3 Foolish; French, " niais." 15 Trouble, anxiety. 16 Same 4 Fret the sore. Compare, "Let the galled jade 17 Eagerly; German, "gern." 18 Imagine, tell. wince." 5 Try. 19 To meet. 20 Forth from hence. 6 Secret, good at keeping confidence. 21 Faith. 22 Dear. 23 Unless. 7 Rake-handle. 24 Instruct; German,," welsen," to show or counsel, 8 From Anglo-Saxon, "helan," to hide, conceal. 25 Pay your reward. 26 Boast, affirm 9' Small. 10 Deformity, disfigurement, 27 Whispered a secret, a lesson. 11 Makes a humming noise. 28 Promised. THE WIFE OF BATH'S TALE. 81 Nor widow, that contraried what he said, And thereto 1 comest of so low a kind, But said, he worthy was to have his life. That little wonder though I wallow and wind;12 And with that word up start that olde wife So wouldi God, mine hearte wouldi brest! " 3 Which that the knight saw sitting on the green. "Is this," quoth she, "'the cause of your " Mercy," quoth she, " my sovereign lady queen, unrest?" Ere that your court departS, do me right. " Yea, certainly," quoth he; " no wonder is." I taughti this answer unto this knight, "'Now, Sir," quoth she, "I could amend all For which he plighted me his trothe there, this, The firste thing I would of him requere, If that me list, ere it were dayes three, He would it do, if it lay in his might. So well ye might6 bear you unto me.14 Before'this court then pray I thee, Sir Knight," But, for ye speaken of such gentleness Quoth she, " that thou me take unto thy wife, As is descended out of old rich6ss, For well thou know'st that I have kept thy That therefore shalle ye be gentlemen; life. Such arrogancy is not worth a hen.15 If I say false, say nay, upon thy fay." 2 Look who that is most virtuous alway, This knight answ6r'd, " Alas, and well-away! Prive and apert,l6 and most intendeth aye I know right well that such was my behest.3 To do the gentle deedis that he can; For Godde's love choose a new request: And take him for the greatest gentleman. Take all my good, and let my body go." Christ will,17 we claim of him our gentleness, " Nay, then," quoth she, " I shrew4 us bothe Nbt of our elders 18 for their old richess. two, For though they gave us all their heritage, For though that I be old, and foul, and poor, Forwhich we claim to be of high parage,l9 I n'ould 5 for all the metal nor the ore, Yet may they not bequeathe, for no thing, That under earth is grave,6 or lies above, To none of us, their virtuous living But if thy wife I were and eke thy love." That made them gentlemen called to be, " My love?" quoth he, "nay, my damnati6n, And bade us follow them in such degree, Alas! that any of my nati6n Well can the wise poet of Florence, Should ever so foul disparaged be." That highte Dante, speak of this sentence: 20 But all for nought; the end is this, that he Lo, in such manner21 rhyme is Dante's tale. Constrained was, that needs he must her wed,' Full seld' uprisethby his branches smale And take this olde wife, and go to bed. Prowess of man, for God of his goodness Now woulde some men say paraventure,7 Wills that we claim of him our gentleness;'22 That for my negligence I do no cure 8 For of our elders may we nothing claim To tell you all the joy and all th' array Buttemp'ralthingsthatman mayhurt andmaim. That at the feast was made that ilkd 9 day. Eke every wight knows this as well as I, To which thing shortly answeren I shall: If gentleness were planted naturally I say there was no joy nor feast at all, Unto a certain lineage down the line, There was but heaviness and muche sorrow: Prive and apert, then would they never fine23 For privily he wed her on the morrow; To do of gentleness the fair office; And all day after hid him as an owl, Then might they do no villainy nor vice. So woe was him, his wife look'd so foul. Take fire, and bear it to the darkest house Great was the woe the knight had in his thought Betwixt this and the mount of Caucasus, When he was with his wife to bed y-brought; And let men shut the doores, and go thenne,24 He wallow'd, and he turned to and fro. Yet will the fire as fair and lighte brenne 25 This olde wife lay smiling evermo', As twenty thousand men might it behold; And said, " Dear husband, benedicite, Its office natural aye will it hold,26 Fares every knight thus with his wife as ye? On peril of my life,-till that it die. Is this the law of king Arthofire's house? Here may ye see well how that gentery 27 Is every knight of his thus dangerous?l0 Is not annexed to possession, I am your owen love, and eke your wife, Since folk do not their operati6n I am she, which that saved hath your life, Alway, as doth the fire, lo, in its kind.28 And certes yet did I you ne'er unright. For, God it wot, men may full often find Why fare ye thus with me this firsti night? A lorde's son do shame and villainy. Ye fare like a man had lost his wit. And he that will have price 29 of his gent'ry, What is my guilt? for God's love tell me it, For 30 he was boren of a gentle house, And it shall be amended, if I may." And had his elders noble and virtuofis, " Amended!" quoth this knight; " alas! nay, And will himselfi do no gentle deedes, nay, Nor follow his gentle ancestry, that dead is, It will not be amended, never mo'; He is not gentle, be he duke or earl; Thou art so loathly, and so old also, For villain sinful deedes make a churl. 1 Preserved. 2 Faith. 3 Promise. 1P In private and in public. 17 Wills, requires. 4 Curse. 5 Would not. 6 Buried. 18 Ancestors. 19 Birth, descent. 20 Sentiment. 7 Perhaps. 8 Take no pains. 9 Same. 21 Kind of. 22 Dante, " Purgatorio," vii. 121. 10 Fastidious, niggardly. 11 In addition. 23 Cease. 24 Thence. 25 Burn. 12 Writhe, turn about. 13 Burst. 26 It will perform its natural function. 14 If you could conduct yourself well towards me. 27 Gentility, nobility. 28 From its very nature. 15 Is only to be despised. See note 17, page 19. 29 Esteem, honour. 30 Because. F 82 TIHE CANTERBURY TALES. For gentleness is but the renomee 1 Now there ye say that I am foul and old, Of thine ancestors, for their high bount6,2 Then dread ye not to be a cok6wold.21 Which is a strange thing to thy pers6n: For filth, and eld, all so may I th,22 Thy gentleness-cometh from God alone. Be greate wardens upon chastity. Then comes our very 3 gentleness of grace; But natheless, since I know your delight, It was no thing bequeath'd us with our place. I shall fulfil your worldly appetite. Think how noble, as saith Valerius, Choose now," quoth she, " one of these thinges Was thilke 4 Tullius Hostilius, tway, That out of povert' rose to high nobless. To have me foul and old till that I dey,23 Read in Senec, and read eke in Boece,'And be to you a true humble wife, There shall ye see express, that it no drede 5 is, And never you displease in all my life: That he is gentle that doth gentle deedes. Or elles will ye have me young and fair, And therefore, leve 6 husband, I conclude, And take your iventure of the repair 24 Albeit that mine ancestors were rude, That shall be to your house because of me,Yet may the highe God,-and so hope I,- Or in some other place, it may well be? Grant me His grace to live virtuously: Now choose yourselfe whether that you liketh." Then am I gentle, when that I begin This knight adviseth25 him, and sore he siketh,'6 To live virtuously, and waive 7 sin. But at the last he said in this mannere; "And whereas ye of povert' me repreve,8 "My lady and my love, and wife so dear, The highe God, on whom that we believe, I put me in your wise governance, In wilful povert' chose to lead his life: Choose for yourself which may be most pleasance And certes, every man, maiden, or wife And most honour to you and me also; May understand that Jesus, heaven's king, I do no force 27 the whether of the two: Ne would not choose a vicious living. For as you liketh, it sufficeth me." Glad povert'9 is an honest thing, certain; " Then have I got the mastery," quoth she, This will Senec and other clerkis 10 sayn. "Since I may choose and govern as me lest."28 Whoso that holds him paid of 1 his povert', "Yea, certes, wife," quoth he, " I hold it best." I hold him rich, though he had not a shirt. "Kiss me," quoth she, "we are no longer He that cov6teth is a poore wight, wroth, 29 For he would have what is not in his might. For by my troth I will be to you both; But he that nought hath, nor cov6teth t' have, This is to say, yea, bothe fair and good. Is rich, although ye hold him but a knave.l I pray to God that I may sterve wood, 30 Very povert' is sinne, properly.l3 But31 I to you be all so good and true, Juvenal saith of povert' merrily: As ever was wife, since the world was new; The poore man, when he goes by the way, And but 31 I be to-morrow as fair to seen, Before the thieves he may sing and play.14 As any lady, emperess, or queen, Povert' is hateful good;15 and, as I guess, That is betwixt the East and eke the West, A full great bringer out of business;16 Do with my life and death right as you lest.28 A great amender eke of sapience Cast up the curtain, and look how it is." To him that taketh it in patience. And when the knight saw verily all this, Povert' is this, although it seem elenge,l7 That she so fair was, and so young thereto, Possessi6n that no wight will challenge. For joy he hent 32 her in his armes two: Povert' full often, when a man is low, His hearte bathed in a bath of bliss, Makes him his God and eke himself to know: A thousand times on row 33 he gan her kiss: Povert' a spectacle is,18 as thinketh me, And she obeyed him in every thing Through which he may his very 3 friendis see. That mighte do him pleasance or liking. And, therefore, Sir, since that I you not grieve, And thus they live unto their lives' end Of my poVert' no more me repreve. In perfect joy; and Jesus Christ us send " Now, Sir, of elde 1 ye repreve me: Husbandes meek and young, and fresh in bed, And certes, Sir, though none authority 20 And grace to overlive them that we wed. Were in no book, ye gentles of honour And eke I pray Jesus to short their lives, Say, that men should an olde wight honofr, That will not be governed by their wives. And call him father, for your gentleness; And old and angry niggards of dispence,34 And authors shall I fiden, as I guess. God send them soon a very pestilence! i French, "renommee," renown, here paraphrases: —"Quid est Paupertas? Odibile 2 Goodness, worth, 3 True. 4 That. bonum; sanitatis mater; remotio curarum; sapientise 5 Doubt. 6 Dear. 7 Forsake. repertrix; negotium sine damno; possessio absque 8 Reproach. calumnia; sine sollicitudine felicitas." 9 Poverty endured with contentment. 16 Deliverer from care and trouble. 10 Scholars. 17 Strange; from French, " eloigner," to remove. 11 Holds himself satisfied with, is content with. 18 Is a spying-glass, pair of spectacles. 12 A slave, abject wretch. 19 Age. 20 Text, dictum. 21 Cuckold. 13 Properly, the only true poverty is sin. 22 Thrive. 23 Die. 24 Resort. 14 Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator."-"Sa. 25 Considered. 26 Sighed.] tires," x. 22. 27 Set no value, care not. 28 Pleases. lb In a fabulous conference between the Emperor 29 At variance. 30 Die mad. 31 Unless. Adrian and the philosopher Secundus, reported by 32 Took. 33 In succession. Vincent of Beauvais, occurs the passage which Chaucer 34 Grudgers of expense. THE FRIAR'S TALE. 83 And eke of many another manner 12 crime, THE FRIAR'S TALE Which needeth not rehearsen at this time,. Of usury, and simony also; THE PROLOGUE. But, certes, lechours did he greatest woe; They shoulde singen, if that they were hent;13 THIS worthy limitour, this noble Frere, And smalli tithers 1 were foul y-shent,15 He made always a manner louring cheer 2 If any person would on them complain; Upon the Sompnour; but for honesty3 There might astert them no pecunial pain.16 No villain word as yet to him spake he: For smalle tithes, and small offering, But at the last he said unto the Wife: He made the people piteously to sing; "Dame," quoth he, " God give you right good For ere the bishop caught them with his crook, life, They weren in the archideacon's book; Ye have here touched, all so may I thd,4 Then had he, through his jurisdiction, In school matter a greate difficulty. Power to do on them correction. Ye have said muche thing right well, I say; He had a Sompnour ready to his hand, But, Dame, here as we ride by the way, A slier boy was none in Engleland; Us needeth not but for to speak of game, For subtlely he had his espiaille,l7 And leave authorities, in GoddS's name, That taught him well where it might aught To preaching, and to school eke of clergy. avail. But if it like unto this company, He coulde spare of lechours one or two, I will you of a Sompnour tell a game; To teache him to four and twenty mo'. Pardie, ye may well knowe by the name, For,-though this Sompnour wood18 be as a That of a Sompnour may no good be said; hare,I pray that none of you be evil paid; 5 To tell his harlotry I will not spare, A Sompnour is a runner up and down For we be out of their correcti6n, With mandements 6 for fornicatioun, They have of us no jurisdicti6n, And is y-beat at every towne's end." Ne never shall have, term of all their lives. Then spake our Host; "Ah, Sir, ye should be " Peter, so be the women of the stives," 19 hend7 Quoth this Sompnour, "y-put out of our And courteous, as a man of your estate; cure." 20 In company we will have no debate: "Peace, with mischance and with misfvenTell us your tale, and let the Sompnour be." ture," " Nay," quoth the Sompnour, " let him say by Our Hoste said, " and let him tell his tale. me Now telli forth, and let the Sompnour gale,21 What so him list; when it comes to my lot, Nor spare not, mine owen master dear." By God, I shall him quiten 8 every groat! This false thief, the Sompnour (quoth the I shall him telle what a great honofir Frere), It is to be a flattering limitour, Had always bawdes ready to his hand, And his office I shall him tell y-wis."9 As any hawk to lure in Engleland, Our Host answered, "Peace, no more of this." That told him all the secrets that they knew,And afterward he said unto the Frere, For their acquaintance was not come of new; "Tell forth your tale, mine owen master dear." They were his approvers 22 privily. He took himself a great profit thereby: His master knew not always what he wan.23 THE TALE. Withoute mandement, a lewed24 man He could summon, on pain of Christe's curse, Whilom 0 there was dwelling in my country And they were inly glad to fill his purse, An archdeacon, a man of high degree, And make him greate feastes at the nale.25 That boldely did executi6n, And right as Judas hadde purses smale,26 In punishing of fornicati6n, And was a thief, right such a thief was he, Of witchecraft, and eke of bawdery, His master had but half his duety.27 Of defamation, and adultery, He was (if I shall givP him his laud) Of churchP-reevgs,"l and of testaments, A thief, and eke a Sompnour, and a bawd. Of contracts, and of lack of sacraments, And he had wenches at his retinue, 1 On the Tale of the Friar, and that of the Somp- 6 Mandates, summonses. 7 Civil, gentle. nour which follows, Tyrwhitt has remarked that they 8 Pay him off. 9 Assuredly. "are well engrafted upon that of the Wife of Bath. lo0 Once on a time. 11 Churchwardens. The ill-humour which shows itself between those two 12 Sort of. 13 Caught. characters is -quite natural, as no two professions at 14 People who did not pay their full tithes. Mi that time were at more constant variance. The re- Wright remarks that " the sermons of the friars in the gular clergy, and particularly the mendicant friars, fourteenth century were most frequently designed tc affected a total exemption from all ecclesiastical juris- impress the absolute duty of paying full tithes and diction, except that of the Pope, which made them offerings." 15 Troubled, put to shame. exceedingly obnoxious to the bishops, and of course 16 They got off with no mere pecuniary punishment to all the inferior officers of the national hierarchy." 17 Espionage. 18 Furious, mad. Both tales, whatever their origin, are bitter satires on 19 Stews. 20 Care. 21 Whistle; bawl. the greed and worldliness of the Romish clergy. 22 Informers. 23 Won. 24 Ignorant. 2 A kind of gloomy countenance. 25 Ale-house; inn-ale, a house for ale. 26 Small. 3 Good manners. 4 Thrive. 5 Dissatisfied. 27 What was owing him. 84 THE CANTERBURY TALES. That whether that Sir Robert or Sir Hugh, This Sompnour, which that was as full of Or Jack, or Ralph, or whoso that it were jangles,'5 That lay by them, they told it in his ear. As full of venom be those wariangles,16 Thus were the wench and he of one assent; And ev'r inquiring upon every thing, And he would fetch a feigned mandement, "Brother," quoth he, "where is now your And to the chapter summon them both two, dwelling, And pill' the man, and let the wench6 go. Another day if that I should you seech?"17 Then would he say, " Friend, I shall for thy sake This yeoman him answered in soft speech; Do strike thee 2 out of oure letters blake; 3 "Brother," quoth he, "far in the North Thee thar 4 no more as in this case travail; country,'s I am thy friend where I may thee avail." Where as I hope some time I shall thee see. Certain he knew of bribers many mo' Ere we depart I shall thee so well wiss,l1 Than possible is to tell in yearis two: That of mine house shalt thou never miss." For in this world is no dog for the bow,5 "Now, brother," quoth this Sompnour, "I you That can a hurt deer from a whole know, pray, Bet 6 than this Sompnour knew a sly lechour, Teach me, while that we ride by the way, Or an adult'rer, or a paramour: (Since that ye be a bailiff as am I,) And, for that was the fruit of all his rent, Some subtilty, and tell me faithfully Therefore on it he set all his intent. In mine office how that I most may win. And so befell, that once upon a day And spare not 20 for conscience or for sin, This Sompnour, waiting ever on his prey, But, as my brother, tell me how do ye." Rode forth to summon a widow, an old ribibe,7 "Now by my trothe, brother mine," said Feigning a cause, for he would have a bribe. he, And happen'd that he saw before him ride' As I shall tell to thee a faithful tale: A gay yeoman under a forest side: My wages be full strait and eke full smale; A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen, My lord is hard to me and dangerous,2 He had upon a courtepy 8 of green, And mine office is full laborious; A hat upon his head with fringes blake. And therefore by extorti6n I live, " Sir," quoth this Sompnour, " hail, and well Forsooth I take all that men will me give. o'ertake." Algate 22 by sleighte, or by violence, " Welcome," quoth he, "and every good fel- From year to year I win all my dispence; law; I can no better tell thee faithfully." Whither ridest thou under this green shaw?"9, "Now certes," quoth this Sompnour, "so Saide this yeoman; " wilt thou far to-day?" fare 23 I; This Sompnour answer'd him, and saide, I spare not to take, God it wot, "Nay. But if 24 it be too heavy or too hot. Here faste by," quoth he, " is mine intent What I may get in counsel privily, To ride, for to raisen up a rent, No manner conscience of that have I. That longeth to my lorde's duity." N'ere 25 mine extorti6n, I might not live, "Ah! art thou then a bailiff?" "Yea," quoth Nor of such japes 26 will I not be shrive.27 he. Stomach nor conscience know I none; He durste not for very filth and shame I shrew 2 these shrifte-fathers29 every one. Say that he was a Sompnour, for the name. Well be we met, by God and by St Jame. "De par dieux," 10 quoth this yeoman, "leve But, leve brother, tell me then thy name," brother, Quoth this Sompnour. Right in this meane Thou art a bailiff, and I am another. while I am unknowen, as in this country. This yeoman gan a little for to smile. Of thine acquaintance I will praye thee, "Brother," quoth he, " wilt thou that I thee And eke of brotherhood, if that thee list.12 tell? I have gold and silver lying in my chest; I am a fiend, my dwelling is in hell, If that thee hap to come into our shire, And here I ride about my purchasing, All shall be thine, right as thou wilt desire." To know where men will give me any thing. " Grand mercy," 13 quoth this Sompnour, " by My purchase is th' effect of all my rent.30 my faith." Look how thou ridest for the same intent Each in the other's hand his trothe lay'th, To winne good, thou reckest never how, For to be sworne brethren till they dey.l4 Right so fare I, for ride will I now In dalliance they ridi forth and play. Unto the worlde's ende for a prey." 1 Plunder, pluck. 15 Chattering. 2 Cause thee to be struck. 16 Butcher-birds; which are very noisy and ravenous, 3 Black. 4 It is needful. and tear in pieces the birds on which they prey; the 5 Dog attending a huntsman with bow and arrow. thorn on which they do this was said to become 6 Better. poisonous. 17 Seek, visit. 7 The name of a musical instrument; applied to an 18 Mediaeval legends located hell in the North. old woman because of the shrillness of her voice. 19 Inform. 20 Conceal nothing from me. 8 Wore a short doublet. 9 Shade. 21 Niggardly. 22 Whether. 23 Do. 10 By the gods. 11 Dear. 24 Unless. 25 Were it not for. 26 Tricks. 12 Please. 13 Great thanks. 27 Confessed, shriven. 28 Curse. 29 Confessors. 14 Die. See note 17, page 2$. 30 What I can gain is my sole revenue. THE FRIAR'S TALE. gS5 "Ah," quoth this Sompnour, "benedicite! Sometimes we feign, and sometimes we arise what say y'? With deade bodies, in full sundry wise, I weenedl ye were a yeoman truly. And speak as reas'nably, and fair, and well, Ye have a manni's shape as well as I. As to the Pythoness 10 did Samuel: Have ye then a figfre determinate And yet will some men say it was not he. In helle, where ye be in your estate?" 2 I do no force of 11 your divinity. "Nay, certainly," quoth he, "there have we But one thing warn I thee, I will not jape,12 none, Thou wilt algatis 13 weet 14 how we be shape: But when us liketh we can take us one. Thou shalt hereafterward, my brother dear, Or ellis make you seem3 that we be shape Come, where thee needeth not of me to lear.15 Sometime like a man, or like an ape; For thou shalt by thine own experience Or like an angel can I ride or go; Conne in a chair to rede of this sentence,' It is no wondrous thing though it be so, Better than Virgil, while he was alive, A lousy juggler can deceive thee, Or Dante also.17 Now let us ride blive,ls And, pardie, yet can 4 I more craft 5 than he." For I will holde company with thee, "Why," quoth the Sompnour, " ride ye then Till it be so that thou forsake me." or gon "Nay," quoth this Sompnour, "that shall In sundry shapes, and not always in one?~" ne'er betide. "For we," quoth he, "will us in such form I am a yeoman, that is known full wide; make, My trothe will I hold, as in this case; As most is able our prey for to take." For though thou wert the devil Satanas, " What maketh you to have all this labour?" My trothi will I hold to thee, my brother, "Full many a cause, levi Sir Sompnofir," As I have sworn, and each of us to other, Saide this fiend. " But all thing hath a time; For to be trui brethren in this case, The day is short, and it is passed prime, And both we go abouten our purchase.19 And yet have I won nothing in this day; Take thou thy part, what that men will thee I will intend 6 to winning, if I may, give, And not intend our thinges to declare: And I shall mine, thus may we bothi live. For, brother mine, thy wit is all too bare And if that any of us have more than other, To understand, although I told them thee. Let him be true, and part it with his brother." But for7 thou askest, why labofir we: "I grantS," quoth the devil, " by my fay." For sometimes we be Godde's instruments And with that word they rode forth their And meanes to do his commandements, way, When that him list, upon his creatures, And right at th' ent'ring of the towne's end, In divers acts andin div6rs figfres: To which this Sompnour shope20 him for to Withouts him we have no might, certain, wend,21 If that him list to stands thereagain.8 They saw a cart, that charged was with hay, And sometimes, at our prayer, have we leave Which that a carter drove forth on his way. Only the body, not the soul, to grieve: Deep was the way, for which the carte stood: Witness on Job, whom that we did full woe. The carter smote, and cried as he were wood, 22 And sometimes have we might on both the " Heit Scot! heit Brok! what, spare ye for the two,- stones? This is to say, on soul and body eke. The fiend (quoth he) you fetch body and bones, And sometimes be we suffer'd for to seek As farforthly 23 as ever ye were foal'd, Upon a man, and do his soul unrest So muche woe as I have with you tholed.24 And not his body, and all is for the best. The devil have all, horses, and cart, and hay." When he withstandeth our temptation, The Sompnour said, "Here shall we have a It is a cause of his salvation, prey; " Albeit that it was not our intent And near the fiend he drew, as nought ne He should be safe, but that we would him were,25 hent.9 Full privily, and rowned 26 in his ear: And sometimes be we servants unto man, " Hearken, my brother, hearken, by thy faith, As to the archibishop Saint^Dunstan, Hearest thou not, how that the carter saith? And to th' apostle servant eke was I." Hent27 it anon, for he hath giv'n it thee, "Yet tell me," quoth this Sompnour, "faith- Both hay and cart, and eke his capels 28 three." fully, "Nay," quoth the devil, "God wot, never a Make ye you newi bodies thus alway deal,29 Of th' elements?" The fiend answered, " Nay: It is not his intent, trust thou me well; 1 Thought. 2 At home; in your natural state. 16 Learn to understand what I have said. 3 Make it seem to you. 4 Know. 17 Both poets who had in fancy visited hell. 5 Skill, cunning. 6 Apply myself. 18 Briskly. 19 Seeking what we may pick up. 7 Because. 8 Against it. 9 Catch.:20 Shaped, resolved. 21 Go. 10 The witch, or woman, possessed with a prophesy- 22 Mad. 23 As sure. ing spirit; from the Greek, TIv0a. Chaucer of course 24 Suffered, endured; "thole" is still used in Scotrefers to the raising of Samuel's spirit by the Witch of land in the same sense. Endor. 11 Set no value upon. 12 Jest. 25 As if nothing were the matter. 26 Whispered. 1s Assuredly. 14 Know. 15 Learn. 27 Seize. 28 Horses. 29 Whit. 86 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Ask hima thyself, if thou not trowest me, This wide world though that I should it win, Or elles stint 2 a while and thou shalt see." Ne have I not twelvepence within my hold. The carter thwack'd his horses on the croup, Ye know full well that I am poor and old; And they began to drawen and to stoop. Kith5 your a'lmes 1 upon me poor wretch." "Heit now," quoth he; "there, Jesus Christ "Nay then," quoth he, "the foule fiend me you bless, fetch, And all his handiwork, both more and less! If I excuse thee, though thou should'st be That was well twight,3 mine owen liart,4 boy, spilt." 16 I pray God save thy body, and Saint Loy! "Alas!" quoth she, "God wot, I have no Now is my cart out of the slough, pardie." guilt." "Lo, brother," quoth the fiend, "what told I "Pay me," quoth he, "or, by the sweet Saint thee? Anne, Here may ye see, mine owen deare brother, As I will bear away thy newS pan The churl spake one thing, but he thought For debtS, which thou owest me of old,another. When that thou madest thine husband cuckLet us go forth abouten our voyage; 61d,Here win I nothing upon this carriage." I paid at home for thy correcti6n." When that they came somewhat out of the "Thou liest," quoth she, "by my salvation; town, Never was I ere now, widow or wife, This Sompnour to his brother gan to rown; Summon'd unto your court in all my life; "Brother," quoth he, "here wons an old Nor never I was but of my body true. rebeck,6 Unto the devil rough and black of hue That had almost as lief to lose her neck. Give I thy body and my pan also." As for to give a penny of her good. And when the devil heard her curse so I will have twelvepence, though that she be Upon her knees, he said in this mann6re; wood, "Now, Mabily, mine owen mother dear, Or I will summon her to our office; Is this your will in earnest that ye say? " And yet, God wot, of her know I no vice. "The devil," quoth she, " so fetch him ere he But for thou canst not, as in this country, dey,7 Winne thy cost, take here example of me." And pan and all, but 18 he will him repent." This Sompnour clapped at the widow's gate: " Nay, old6 stoat,19 that is not mine intent," " Come out," he said, "thou old6 very trate; Quoth this Sompnour, "for to repente me I trow thou hast some friar or priest with thee." For any thing that I have had of thee; "Who clappeth?" said this wife; " ben'dicite, I would I had thy smock and every cloth." God save you, Sir, what is your sweete will?" "Now, brother," quoth the devil, "be not " I have," quoth he, " of summons here a bill. wroth; Up pain of cursing, looke that thou be Thy body and this pan be mine by right. To-morrow before our archdeacon's knee, Thou shalt with me to helle yet to-night, To answer to the court of certain things." Where thou shalt knowen of our privity 20 "Now Lord," quoth she, " Christ Jesus, king More than a master of divinity." of kings, And with that word the foule fiend him So wisly 10 helpe me, as I not may. hent.21 I have been sick, and that full many a day. Body and soul, he with the devil went, I may not go so far," quoth she, "nor ride, Where as the Sompnours have their heritage; But I be dead, so pricketh 12 it my side. And God, that maked after his image May I not ask a libel, Sir Sompnofir, Mankinde, save and guide us all and some, And answer there by my procfratofir And let this Sompnour a good man become. To such thing as men would appose 13 me?" Lordings, I could have told you (quoth this "Yes," quoth this Sompnour, "pay anon, let Frere), see, Had I had leisure for this Sompnour here, Twelvepence to me, and I will thee acquit. After the text of Christ, and Paul, and John, I shall no profit have thereby but lit: 14 And of our other doctors many a one, My master hath the profit and not I. Such paines, that your heart6s might agrise,'2 Come off, and let me ride hastily; Albeit so, that no tongue may devise,-23 Give me twelvepence, I may no longer tarry." Though that I might a thousand winters tell,"Twelvepence!" quoth she; "now lady The pains of thilke 2 cursed house of hell. Sainte Mary But for to keep us from that cursed place So wisly 10 help me out of care and sin, Wake we, and pray we Jesus, of his grace, 1 Bellevest. 2 Stop. who has trotted about much, or who moves with quick 3 Pulled; for "twitched." short steps. 9 Upon. 10 Surely. 4 Gray; elsewhere applied by Chaucer to the hairs 11 Cannot help myself. 12 Paineth. of an old man. So Burns, in the " Cotter's Saturday 13 Question me about, lay to my charge. Night," speaks of the gray temples of "the sire"-" His 14 Little. 15 Show your charity. lyart haffets wearing thin and bare." 5 Dwells. 16 Ruined, put to death. 17 Die. 6 Used like "ribibe,"-as a nickname for a shrill 18 Unless. 19 Polecat. 20 Secrets. old scold., 7 Mad. 21 Seized. 22 Frighten, horrify. 8 Trot; a contemptuous term for an old woman 23 Relate. 24 That. THE SOMPNOUZR'S TALE. 87 So keep us from the tempter, Satanas. He clapt his tail again, and lay full still. Hearken this word, beware as in this case. This friar, when he looked had his fill The lion sits in his await 1 alway Upon the torments of that sorry place, To slay the innocent, if that he may. His spirit God restored of his grace Disposen aye your heartis to withstond Into his body again, and he awoke; The fiend, that would you make thrall and bond; But natheless for feare yet he quoke, He may not temptl you over your might, So was the devil's erse aye in his mind; For Christ will be your champion and your That is his heritage, of very kind.9 knight; God save you alle, save this cursed Frere; And pray, that this our Sompnour him repent My prologue will I end in this mann6re. Of his misdeeds, ere that the fiend him hent.2 THE TALE. THE SOMPNOUR'S TALE. Lordings, there is in Yorkshire, as I guess, A marshy country called Holderness, THE PROLOGUE. In which there went a limitour about To preach, and eke to beg, it is no doubt. THIS Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood, And so befell that on a day this frere Upon this Friar his heart8 was so wood,3 Had preached at a church in his mannere, That like an aspen leaf he quoke 4 for ire: And specially, above every thing, " Lordings," quoth he, " but one thing I desire; Excited he the people in his preaching I you beseech, that of your courtesy, To trentals,l0 and to give, for Goddi's sake, Since ye have heard this false Friar lie, Wherewith men mighte holy houses make, As suffer me I may my tale tell. There as divine service is honoir'd, This Friar boasteth that he knoweth hell, Not there as it is wasted and devofir'd, And, God it wot, that is but little wonder, Nor where it needeth not for to be given, Friars and fiends be but little asunder. As to possessioners,1l that may liven, For, pardie, ye have often time heard tell, Thanked be God, in wealth and abundance. How that a friar ravish'd was to hell "Trentals," said he, " deliver from penance In spirit on6s by a visiodn, Their friend6s' soules, as well old as young, And, as an angel led him up and down, Yea, when that they be hastily y-sung,To shew him all the paines that there were, Not for to hold a priest jolly and gay, In all the plac6 saw he not a frere; He singeth not but one mass in a day. Of other folk he saw enough in woe. Deliver out," quoth he, " anon the souls. Unto the angel spake the friar tho;5 Full hard it is, with flesh-hook or with owls'Now, Sir,' quoth he,'have friars such a grace, To be y-clawed, or to burn or bake: 12 That none of them shall come into this place?' Now speed you hastily, for Christe's sake."'Yes,' quoth the angel,'many a millioin:' And when this friar had said all his intent, And unto Satanas he led him down. With qui cum patre 13 forth his way he went,'And now hath Satanas,' said he,' a tail When folk in church had giv'n him what them Broader than of a carrack 6 is the sail. lest;14 Hold up thy tail, thou Satanas,' quoth he, He went his way, no longer would he rest,' Shew forth thine erse, and let the friar see With scrip and tipped staff, y-tucked high:1 Where is the nest of friars in this place.' In every house he gan to pore 16 and pry, And less than half a furlong way of space,7 And begged meal and cheese, or ells corn. Right so as bees swarmen out of a hive, His fellow had a staff tipped with horn, Out of the devil's erse there gan to drive A pair of tables 17 all of ivory, A twenty thousand friars on a rout.8 And a pointel18 y-polish'd fetisly,9 And throughout hell they swarmed all about, And wrote alway the names, as he stood, And came again, as fast as they may gon, Of all the folk that gave them any good, And in his erse they creeped every one: Askaunce 20 that he would6 for them pray. 1 On the watch; French, "aux aguets." the tortures of hell prevailed, and were made the most 2 Seize. 3 Furious. of by the clergy, who preyed on the affection and fear 4 Quaked, trembled. 5 Then. of the survivors, through the ingenious doctrine of 6 A great ship of burden used by the Portuguese; purgatory. Old paintings and illuminations represent the name is from the Italian, "cargare," to load. the dead as torn by hooks, roasted in fires, boiled in 7 Immediately. pots, and subjected to many other physical torments. 8 In a company, crowd. 13 The closing words of the final benediction pro. 9 By his very nature. nounced at mass. 14 Pleased. o1 The money given to the priests for performing 15 With his gown tucked up high. thirty masses for the dead, either in succession or on 16 Peer, gaze curiously. 17 Writing tablets. the anniversaries of their death; also the masses them- 18 A style, or pencil. 19 Daintily. selves, which were very profitable to the clergy. 20 The word now means sideways or asquint; here 11 The regular religious orders, who had lands and it means "as if;" and its force is probably to suggest fixed revenues; while the friars, by their vows, had to that the second friar, with an ostentatious stealthiness, depend on voluntary contributions, though their greed noted down the names of the liberal, to make them suggested many modes of evading the prescription. believe that they would be remembered in the holy 12 In Chaucer's day the most material notions about beggars' orisons. $ 8 THE CANATERBURY TALES. Give us a bushel wheat, or malt, or rey,1 Saide this man; " and she will come anon." A Godde's kichel,2 or a trip 3 of cheese, " Hey master, welcome be ye by Saint John," Or ellis what you list, we may not chese;4 Saide this wife; " how fare ye heartily?" A Goddi's halfpenny, or a mass penny; This friar riseth up full courteously, Or give us of your brawn, if ye have any; And her embraceth in his armes narrow,16 A dagon 5 of your blanket, levi dame, And kiss'th her sweet, and chirketh as a sparrow Our sister dear,-lo, here I write your name,- With his lippes: "Dame," quoth he, "right Bacon or beef, or such thing as ye find." well, A sturdy harlot 6 went them aye behind, As he that is your servant every deal.17 That was their hosti's man, and bare a sack, Thanked be God, that gave you soul and life, And what men gave them, laid it on his back. Yet saw I not this day so fair a wife And when that he was out at door, anon In all the churche, God so save me." He planed away the names every one, "Yea, God amend defaultes, Sir," quoth she; That he before had written in his tables:' Algates 18 welcome be ye, by my fay." He served them with nifles 7 and with fables. - " Grand mercy, Dame; that have I found alway. "Nay, there thou liest, thou Sompnour," But of your greate goodness, by your leave, quoth the Frere. I woulde pray you that ye not you grieve, "Peace," quoth our Host, "for Christe's mother I will with Thomas speak a little throw:19 dear; These curates be so negligent and slow Tell forth thy tale, and spare it not at all." To grope tenderly a conscience. "So thrive I," quoth this Sompnour, "so I In shrift 20 and preaching is my diligence shall."- And study in Peter's wordes and in Paul's; So long he went from house to house, till he I walk and fishe Christian menne's souls, Came to a house, where he was wont to be To yield our Lord Jesus his proper rent; Refreshed more than in a hundred places. To spread his word is alle mine intent." Sick lay the husband man, whose that the "Now by your faith, O deare Sir," quoth she, place is, "Chide him right well, for sainte charity. Bedrid upon a couche low he lay: He is aye angry- as is a pismire, "Dents hic," 8 quoth he; " Thomas friend, Though that he have all that he can desire, good day," Though I him wrie 21 at night, and make him Said this friar, all courteously and soft. warm, "Thomas," quoth he, " God yield it you,9 full And ov'r him lay my leg and eke mine arm, oft f He groaneth as our boar that lies in sty: Have I upon this bench fared full well, Other disport of him right none have I, Here have I eaten many a merry meal." I may not please him in no manner case."22 And from the bench he drove away the cat, " O Thomas, je vous dis, Thomas, Thomas, And laid adown his potent 10 and his hat, This maketh the fiend,23 this must be amended. And eke his scrip, and sat himself adown: Ire is a thing that high God hath defended,2His fellow was y-walked into town And thereof will I speak a word or two." Forth with his knave," into that hostelry "Now, master," quoth the wife, "ere that I Where as he shop 12 him that night to lie. go, "O deari master," quoth this sicke man, What will ye dine? I will go thereabout." "How have ye fared since that March began? I " Now, Dam," quoth he, "je vous dis sans doute, I saw you not this fortenight and more." Had I not of a capon but the liver, "God wot," quoth he, "labofir'd have I full sore; And of your white bread not but a shiver, 2 And specially for thy salvati6n And after that a roasted pigge's head, Have I said many a precious orison, (But I would-that for me no beast were dead,) And for mine other friendes, God them bless. Then had I with you homely suffisance. I have this day been at your church at mess,'3 I am a man of little sustenance. And said serm6n after my simple wit, My spirit hath its fost'ring in the Bible. Not all after the text of Holy Writ; My body is aye so ready and penible 26 For it is hard to you, as I suppose, To wake,27 that my stomach is destroy'd. And therefore will I teach you aye the glose.14 I pray you, Dame, that ye be not annoy'd, Glosing is a full glorious thing certain, Though I so friendly you my counsel shew; For letter slayeth, as we clerkes 15 sayn. By God, I would have told it but to few." There have I taught them to be charitable, "Now, Sir," quoth she, "but one word ere I And spend their good where it is reasonable. go; And there I saw our dami; where is she?" My child is dead within these weekes two, "Yonder I trow that in the yard she be," Soon after that ye went out of this town." 1 Rye. 2 Little cake, given for God's sake. 10 Staff; French, "potence," crutch, gibbet. 3 Small piece. 4 Choose. 5 Slip, remnant. 11 Servant. 12 Shaped; purposed. 6 Hired servant; from Anglo-Saxon, "hyran," to 13 Mass.,14 Comment, gloss. 15 Scholars. hire; the word was commonly applied to males. 16 Closely. 17 Whit. 18 Always. 7 Trifles,, silly tales. 19 A little while. 20 Confession. 8 God be in this place; the formula of benediction 21 Cover. 22 By any sort of chance. at entering a house. 23 This is the fiend's work. 24 Forbidden. 9 God recompense you therefor. 25 Thin slice. 26 Painstaking. 27 Watch. THE SOMPNOUR'S TALE. 89 " His death saw I by revelatioin," Therefore we mendicants, we selyl5 freres, Said this friar, "at home in our dortour.1 Be wedded to povert' and continence, I dare well say, that less than half an hour To charity, humbless, and abstinence, After his death, I saw him borne to bliss To persecuti6n for righteousness, In mine vision, so God me wiss.2 To weeping, misericorde,6 and to cleanness. So did our sexton, and our fermerere,3 And therefore may ye see that our prayeres That have been true friars fifty year,- (I speak of us, we mendicants, we freres), They may now, God be thanked of his love, Be to the highe God more acceptable Make their jubilee, and walk above.4 Than youres, with your feastes at your table. And up I rose, and all our convent eke, From Paradise first, if I shall not lie, With many a teare trilling on my cheek, Was man out chased for his gluttony, Withoute noise or clattering of bells, And chaste was man in Paradise certain. Te Deum was our song, and nothing else, But hark now, Thomas, what I shall thee sayn; Save that to Christ I bade an orison, I have no text of it, as I suppose, Thanking him of my revelati6n. But I shall find it in a manner glose;17 For, Sir and Dami, truste me right well, That specially our sweet Lord Jesus Our orisons be more effectuel, Spake this of friars, when he saidd thus, And more we see of Christi's secret things,'Blessed be they that poor in spirit be.' Than borel folk,5 although that they be kings. And so forth all the gospel may ye see, We live in povert', and in abstinence, Whether it be liker our professi6n, And borel folk in riches and dispence Or theirs that swimmen in possessi6n; Of meat and drink, and in their foul delight. Fy on their pomp, and on their gluttony, We have this worlde's lust 6 all in despight.7 And on their lewedness! I them defy. Lazar and Dives lived diversely, Me thinketh they be like Jovinian,18 And diverse guerdon hadde they thereby. Fat as a whale, and walking as a swan; Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean, All vinolent as bottle in the spence; 19 And fat his soul, and keep his body lean. Their prayer is of full great reverence; We fare as saith th' apostle; cloth 8 and food When they for soules say the Psalm of David, Suffice us, although they be not full good. Lo,' Buf' they say, Cor meum eructavit.20 The cleanness and the fasting of us freres Who follow Christe's gospel and his lore 21 Maketh that Christ accepteth our pray6res. But we, that humble be, and chaste, and pore,22 Lo, Moses forty days and forty night Workers of Godde's word, not auditofirs?23 Fasted, ere that the high God full of might Therefore right as a hawk upon a sours 24 Spake with him in the mountain of Sinai: Up springs into the air, right so prayeres With empty womb of fasting many a day Of charitable and chaste busy freres Received he the lawS, that was writ Make their sours to Godde's earis two. With Godde's finger; and Eli,9 well ye wit,l0 Thomas, Thomas, so may I ride or go, In Mount Horeb, ere he had any speech And by that lord that called is Saint Ive, With highl God, that is our lives' leech,1 N'ere thou our brother, shouldest thou not He fasted long, and was in contemplfnce. thrive;25 Aaron, that had the temple in governance, In our chapiter pray we day and night And eke the other priestes every one, To Christ, that he thee sende health and might, Into the temple when they shoulde gon Thy body for to wielde hastily." 26 To praye for the people, and do service, "God wot," quoth he, " nothing thereof feel They woulde drinken in no manner wise I; No drinkS, which that might them drunken So help me Christ, as I in fewe years make, Have spended upon divers manner freres 7 But there in abstinence pray and wake,2 Full many a pound, yet fare I ne'er the bet; o Lest that they died: take heed what I say- Certain my good have I almost beset:29 But 13 they be sober that for the people pray- Farewell my gold, for it is all ago."30 Ware that, I say-no more: for it sufficeth. The friar answer'd, " OThomas, dost thou so? Our Lord Jesus, as Holy Writ deviseth,l4 What needest thou diverse friars to seech?31 Gave us example of fasting and pray6res: What needeth him that hath a perfect leech, 1 Dormitory; French, "dortoir." 16 Compassion.' 17 A kind of comment. 2 Direct. 3 Infirmary-keeper. 18 An emperor Jovinian was famous in the mediaeval 4 The rules of St Benedict granted peculiar honours legends for his pride and luxury. 19 Store-room. and immunities to monks who had lived fifty years- 20 Literally, "My heart has -belched forth;" in our the jubilee period-in the order. The usual reading of translation, "My heart is inditing a goodly matter." the words ending the two lines is "loan" or "lone," (Ps. xlv. 1.) "Buf" is meant to represent the sound and "alone;" but to walk alone does not seem to have of an eructation, and to show the "great reverence" been any peculiar privilege of a friar, while the idea of with which "those in possession," the monks of the precedence, or higher place at table and inprocesslons, rich monasteries, performed divine service. is suggested by the reading in the text. 21 Doctrine. 22 Poor. 23 Hearers. 5 Laymen, people who are not learned; "borel" 24 Upon the "soar," or rise. was a kind of coarse cloth. 25 If thou wert not of our brotherhood, thou shouldst 6 Pleasure. 7 Contempt. 8 Clothing. have no hope of recovery. 9 Elijah (1 Kings, xix.) 10 Know. 26 Soon to be able to move thy body freely. 11 Physician, healer. 12 Watch. 13 Unless. 27 Friars of various sorts. 28 Better. 14 Narrates. 15 Simple, lowly. 29 Spent. o0 Zone. 31 Seek, beseech. 90 THE CANTERBURY TALES. To seeken other leeches in the town? It is great harm, and certes great pity Your inconstance is your confusiotin. To set an irous man in high degree. Hold ye then me, or ellis our convent, "Whilom 16 there was an irous potestate,17 To praye for you insufficient? As saith Senec, that during his estate'8 Thomas, that jape 1 it is not worth a mite; Upon a day out rode knightis two; Your malady is for we have too lite.2 And, as fortune would that it were so, Ah, give that convent half a quarter oats; The one of them came home, the other not. And give that convent four and twenty groats; Anon the knight before the judge is brought, And give that friar a penny, and let him go! That saidi thus;'Thou hast thy fellow slain, Nay, nay, Thomas, it may no thing be so. For which I doom thee to the death certain.' What is a farthing worth parted on twelve? And to another knight commanded he; Lo, each thing that is oned 3 in himselve'Go, lead him to the death, I charge thee.' Is more strong than when it is y-scatter'd. And happened, as they went by the way Thomas, of me thou shalt not be y-flatter'd, Toward the place where as he should dey,l9 Thou wouldest have our labour all for nought. The knight came, which men weened20 had been Thehighe God, that all this worldhathwrought, dead. Saith, that the workman worthy is his hire. Then thoughte they it was the beste rede 21 Thomas, nought of your treasure I desire To lead them both unto the judge again. As for myself, but that all our conv6nt They saide,' Lord, the knight hath not y-slain To pray for you is aye so diligent: His fellow; here he standeth whole alive.' And for to builde Christe's owen church.' Ye shall be dead, quoth he,'so may I thrive, Thomas, if ye will learne for to wirch,4 That is to say, both one, and two, and three.' Of building up of churches may ye find And to the firste knight right thus spake he: If it be good, in Thomas' life of Ind.'I damned thee, thou must algate 22 be dead: Ye lie here full of anger and of ire, And thou also must needes lose thine head, With which the devil sets your heart on fire, For thou the cause art why thy fellow dieth.' And chidd here this holy innocent And to the thirde knight right thus he sayeth, Your wife, that is so meek and patient.' Thou hast not done that I commanded thee.' And therefore trow5 me, Thomas, if thee lest,6 And thus he did do slay them 23 alle three. Ne strive not with thy wife, as for the best. Irous Cambyses was eke dronkelew,24 And bear this word away now, by thy faith, And aye delighted him to be a shrew.25 Touching such thing, lo, what the wise man And so befell, a lord of his meinie,26 saith: That loved virtuous morality,' Within thy house be thou no li6n; Said on a day betwixt them two right thus: To thy subj6cts do none oppression;' A lord is lost, if he be vicious. Nor make thou thine acquaintance for to flee.' [An irous man is like a frantic beast, And yet, Thomas, eftsoonis 7 charge I thee, In which there is of wisdom none arrest 27]; Beware from ire that in thy bosom sleeps, And drunkenness is eke a foul record Ware from the serpent, that so slily creeps Of any man, and namely28 of a lord. Under the grass, and stingeth subtilly. There is full many an eye and many an ear Beware, my son, and hearken patiently, Awaiting on29 a lord, he knows not where.! That twenty thousand men have lost their lives For Godde's love, drink more attemperly:30 For striving with their lemans8 and their wives. Wine maketh man to lose wretchedly Now since ye have so holy and meek a wife, His mind, and eke his limbes every one.' What needeth you, Thomas, to maki strife?' The reverse shalt thou see,' quoth he,' anon, There is, y-wis,9 no serpent so cruel, And prove it by thine own experience, When men tread on his tail, nor half so fell,l0 That wine doth to folk no such offence. As woman is, when she hath caught an ire; There is no wine bereaveth me my might Very 1 vengeance is then all her desire. Of hand, nor foot, nor of mine eyen sight.' Ire is a sin, one of the greate seven,l2 And for despite he dranke muche more Abominable to the God of heaven, A hundred part 31 than he had done before, And to himself it is destruction. And right anon this cursed irons wretch This every lewed 13 vicar and pars6n This knighte's sone let 32 before him fetch, Can say, how ire engenders homicide; Commanding him he should before him stand: Ire is in sooth th' executor 4 of pride. And suddenly he took his bow in hand, I could of ire you say so muche sorrow, And up the string he pulled to his ear, My tale shoulde last until to-morrow. And with an arrow slew the child right there. And therefore pray I God both day and night,'Now whether have I a sicker33 hand or non?'34 An irons 5 man God send him little might. Quoth he;'Is all my might and mind agone? 1 Trick. Italian, "podesta." Seneca relates the story of Cor2 Because we have too little. nelius Piso; "De Ira," i. 16. 18 Term of office. 3 Made one, united. 4 Work. 6 Believe. 19 Die. 20 Thought. 21 Counsel.'6 If it please thee. 7 Again. 8 Mistresses. 22 At all events. 23 Caused them to be slain. 9 Certainly. 10 Fierce. 11 Pure; only. 24 A drunkard. 25 Vicious, ill-tempered. 12 The seven cardinal sins. 13 Ignorant. 26 Suite. 27 No decree, control. 28 Especially. 14 Executioner. 15 Passionate. 16 Once. 29 Watching. 30 Temperately. 31 Times. 17 Chief magistrate or judge; Latin, "potestas;" 32 Caused. 83 Sure. 34 Not. THE SOMPNOUR'S TALE. g Hath wine bereaved me mine eyen sight?' Quoth he, "that may I give you and none other: Why should I tell the answer of the knight? Ye say me thus, how that I am your brother." His son was slain, there is no more to say. "Yea, certes," quoth this friar, "yea, truste Beware therefore with lordes how ye play,1 well; Sing Placebo; 2 and I shall if I can, I took our Dame the letter of our seal." 19 But if 3 it be unto a poore man: "Now well," quoth he, " and somewhat shall I To a poor man men should his vices tell, give But not t' a lord, though he should go to hell. Unto your holy convent while I live; Lo, irous Cyrus, thilke 4 Persian, And in thine hand thou shalt it have anon, How he destroy'd the river of Gisen,5 On this condition, and other none, For that a horse of his was drowned therein, That thou depart 20 it so, my deare brother, When that he wente Babylon to win: That every friar have as much as other: He made that the river was so small, This shalt thou swear on thy profession, That women might6 wade it over all.6 Withoute fraud or cavillati6n." 21 Lo, what said he, that so well teache can? "I swear it," quoth the friar, "upon my faith."' Be thou no fellow to an irons man, And therewithal his hand in his he lay'th; Nor with no wood 7 man walke by the way, "Lo here my faith, in me shall be no lack." Lest thee repent;' I will no farther say. "Then put thine hand adown right by my "Now, Thomas, leve 8 brother, leave thine back," ire, Saide this man, " and gropB well behind, Thou shalt me find as just as is a squire; Beneath my buttock, therB thou shalt find Hold not the devil's knife aye at thine heart; A thing, that I have hid in privity." Thine anger doth thee all too sorb smart; 9 "Ah," thought this friar, " that shall go with But shew to me all thy confession." me." "Nay," quoth the sicke man, " by Saint Sim6n And down his hand he launched to the clift, I have been shriven 1 this day of my curate; In hopB for to finde there a gift. I have him told all wholly mine estate. And when this sickB man felte this frere Needeth no more to speak of it, saith he, About his tailB groping there and here, But if me list of mine humility." Amid his hand he let the friar a fart; " Give me then of thy good to make our cloister," There is no capel 22 drawing in a cart, Quoth he, " for many a mussel and many an That might have let a fart of such a soun' oyster, The friar up start, as doth a wood 23 liofin: When other men have been full well at ease, "Ah, falsb churl," quoth he, "for Godde's Hath been our food, our cloister for to rese: bones, And yet, God wot, unneth 12 the foundement 13 This hast thou in despite done for the nones: 24 Performed is, nor of our pavement Thou shalt abie 25 this fart, if that I may." Is not a tile yet within our wones: 14 His meinie,2 which that heard of this affray, By God, we ow6 forty pound for stones. Came leaping in, and chased out the frere, Now help, Thomas, for him that harrow'd hell,15 And forth he went with a full angry cheer 27 For elles must we oure bookis sell, And fetch'd his fellow, there as lay his store: And if ye lack our predicati6n, He looked as it were a wilde boar, Then goes this world all to destruction. And grounde with his teeth, so was he wroth. For whoso from this world would us bereave, A sturdy pace down to the court he go'th, So God me save, Thomas, by your leave, Where as there wonn'a 28 a man of great honoir, He would bereave out of this world the sun. To whom that he was always confessouir: For who can teach and worken as we conne?16 This worthy man was lord of that village. And that is not of little time (quoth he), This friar came, as he were in a rage, But since Elijah was, and Elisee,l7 Where as this lord sat eating at his board: Have friars been, that find I of record, Unnethes 2 might the friar speak one word, In charity, y-thanked be our Lord. Till at the last he saide, " God you see."30.Now, Thomas, help for sainte charity." This lord gan look, and said, " Ben'dicite! And down anon he set him on his knee. What? Friar John, what manner world is this? This sick man waxed well nigh wood 18 for ire, I see well that there something is amiss; He wouldi that the friar had been a-fire Ye look as though the wood were full of thiev6s. With his false dissimulati6n. Sit down anon, and tell me what your grieve 31 "Such thing as is in my possession," is, 1 Use freedom. 15 For Christ's sake that ravaged hell; see note 11, 2 An anthem of the Roman Church, from Psalm page 51. cxvi. 9, which in the Vulgate reads, "Placebo Domino 16 Know how to dd. 17 Elisha. 18 Mad. in regione virorum "-" I will please the Lord." 19 MrWright says that "it was a common practice 3 Unless. 4 That. to grant under the conventual seal to benefactors and 5 Seneca calls it the Gyndes; Sir John Mandeville others a brotherly participation in the spiritual good tells the story of the Euphrates. "Gihon" was the works of the convent, and in their expected reward name of one of the four rivers of Eden (Gen. ii. 13). after death." 20 Divide. 21 Quibbling. 6 Everywhere. 7 Furious. 8 Dear. 22 Horse. 23 Fierce. 24 Purpose. 9 Pain. 10 Confessed. ii Raise, build. 25 Suffer. 26 Servants. 27 Countenance. 12 Scarcely. 13 Foundation. 28 Dwelt. 29 With difficulty, 14 Habitation. 30 Save. 31 Grievance, grief. 92 THE CANTERBURY TALES. And it shall be amended, if I may." Lo, Sires," quoth the lord, " with harde grace,i4 "I have," quoth he, " had a despite to-day, Who ever heard of such a thing ere now? God yielde you,1 adown in your village, To every man aliki? tell me how. That in this world is none so poor a page, It is impossible, it may not be. That would not have abominatiofin Hey, nic 12 churl, God let him never the.6 Of that I have received in your town: The rumbling of a fart, and every soun', And yet ne grieveth me nothing so sore, Is but of air reverberatiouin, As that the oldd churl, with lockis hoar, And ever wasteth lite and lite 15 away; Blasphemed hath our holy convent eke." There is no man can deemen,l6 by my fay, "Now, master," quoth this lord, "I you be- If that it were departedl7 equally. seek " - What? lo, my churl, lo yet how shrewedly 1 " No master, Sir," quoth he, " but servitoir, Unto my confessofir to-day he spake; Though I have had in schooli that honoir. I hold him certain a demoniac. God liketh not, that men us Rabbi call, Now eat your meat, and let the churl go play, Neither in market, nor in your large hall." Let him go hang himself a devil way! " "No force," 2 quoth he; "but tell me all your Now stood the lordi's squier at the board, grief." That carv'd his meat, and hearde word by word "Sir," quoth this friar, "an odious mischief Of all this thing, which that I have you said. This day betid 3 is to mine order and me, " My lord," quoth he, "be ye not evil paid,'9 And so pal consequence to each degree I coulde telle, for a gowne-cloth,0 Of holy churchi, God amend it soon." To you, Sir Friar, so that ye be not wroth, "Sir," quoth the lord, "ye know what is to How that this fart should even 21 dealed be doon: 4 Among your convent, if it liked thee." Distemp'r you not,5 ye be my confessofr. "Tell," quoth the lord, " and thou shalt have Ye be the salt of th' earth, and the savofir; anon For Godde's love your patience now hold; A gowne-cloth, by God and by Saint John." Tell me your grief." And he anon him told " My lord," quoth he, " when that the weather As ye have heard before, ye know well what. is fair, The lady of the house aye stille sat, Withoute wind, or perturbing of air, Till she had hearde what the friar said. Let 22 bring a cart-wheel here into this hall, "Hey, Godde's mother," quoth she, "blissful But looke that it have its spokes all; maid, Twelve spokes hath a cart-wheel commonly; Is there ought ellis? tell me faithfully." And bring me then twelve friars, know ye why? "Madame," quoth he, "how thinketh you For thirteen is a convent as I guess; 3 thereby?" Your confessor here, for his worthiness, "How thinketh me?" quoth she; " so God me Shall perform up 24 the number of his convent., speed, Then shall they kneel adown by one assent, I say, a churl hath done a churlish deed. And to each spok'ed end, in this mannere, What should I say? God let him never th; 6 Full sadly 25 lay his nosB shall a frere; His sicke head is full of vanity; Your noble confess6r there, God him save, I hold him in a manner phrenesy." 7 Shall hold his nose upright under the nave. "Madame," quoth he, "by God, I shall not lie, Then shall this churl, with belly stiff and But I in other wise may be awreke,8 tought 26 I shall diffame him ov'r all there 9 I speak; As any tabour,27 hither be y-brought; This false blasphemofr, that charged me And set him on the wheel right of this cart To parte that will not departed be, Upon the nave, and make him let a fart, To every man alike, with mischance." And ye shall see, on peril of my life, The lord sat still, as he were in a trance, By very proof that is demonstrative, And in his heart he rolled up and down, That equally the sound of it will wend,28 "How had this churl imaginatioiun And eke the stink, unto the spokes' end, To shewe such a problem to the frere. Save that this worthy man, your confessour Never ere now heard I of such matt6re; (Because he is a man of great honofir), I trow 10 the Devil put it in his mind. Shall have the firste fruit, as reason is; In all arsmetrik l shall there no man find, The noble usage of friars yet it is, Before this day, of such a questi6n. The worthy men of them shall first be served, Who shoulde make a demonstrati6n, And certainly he hath it well deserved; That every man should have alike his part He hath to-day taught us so muche good As of the sound and savour of a fart? With preaching in the pulpit where he stood, O nice 12 proude churl, I shrew 3 his face. That I may vouchesafe, I say for me, 1 Reward you. 2 No matter. 3 Befallen. 18 Impiously, wickedly. 19 Displeased. 4 Do. 5 Be not impatient, out of temper. 20 Cloth for a gown. 21 Equally. 22 Cause. 6 Thrive. 7 Sort of frenzy. 8 Revenged. 23 The regular number of monks or friars in a con9 Speak discreditably of him everywhere. vent was fixed at twelve, with a superior, in imitation 10 Believe. 11 Arithmetic. of the apostles and their Master; and large religious 12 Foolish; French " niais." 13 Curse. houses were held to consist of so many convents. 14 Ill-favour attend him (the churl). 24 Complete. 25 Carefully, steadily. 15 Little. 16 Judge, decide. 17 Divided. 26 Tight. 27 Drum. 28 Go, THE CLERK'S TALE. 93 He had the firste smell of fartes three Illumin'd all Itale of poetry, And so would all his brethren hardily; As Linian 8 did of philosophy, He beareth him so fair and holily." Or law, or other art particulere: The lord, the lady, and each man, save the But death, that will not suffer us dwell here frere, But as it were a twinkling of an eye, Saide, that Jankin spake in this mattere Them both hath slain, and alle we shall die. As well as Euclid, or as Ptolemy. " But forth to tellen of this worthy man, Touching the churl, they said that subtilty That taughte me this tale, as I began, And high wit made him speaken as he spake; I say that first he with high style inditeth He is no fool, nor no demoniac. (Ere he the body of his tale writeth) And Jankin hath y-won a newe gown; A proem, in the which describeth he My tale is done, we are almost at town. Piedmont, and of Saluces 9 the country, And speaketh of the Pennine hilles high, | That be the bounds of all West Lombardy: And of Mount Vesulus in special, Where as the Po out of a welle small THE CLERK'S TALE., Taketh his firsts springing and his source, That eastward aye increaseth in his course THE PROLOGUE. T' Emilia-ward,'0 to Ferrare, and Venice, The which a long thing were to devise.1 "SIR Clerk of Oxenford," our Hoste said, And truely, as to my judgement, " Ye ride as still and coy, as doth a maid Me thinketh it a thing impertinent,12 That were new spoused, sitting at the board: Save that he would conveye his mattere: This day I heard not of your tongue a word. But this is the tale, which that ye shall hear." I trow ye study about some sophime:1 But Solomon saith, every thing hath time. For Godde's sak, be of better cheer,2 THE TALE.13 It is no time for to study here. Pars Prima. Tell us some merry tale, by your fay;3 Tell us some merr ta, by your fay; There is, right at the west side of Itile, For what man that is entered in a play, Down at the root of Vesulu the cold He needes must unto that play assent. A pla u t ll But preache not, as friars do in Lent, t pkeas not, as fdo in Le, There many a town and tow'r thou may'st To make us for our oldi sinnes weep, Nor. that thy tale make us not to sleep. behold That founded were in time of fathers old, Tell us-some merry thing of aventures. And many another delectable sight; Your terms, your coloures, and your figfires, And Sal ths nle c ty ight And Saluces this noble country hight. Keep them in store, till so be ye indite High style, as when that men to kinges write. A marquis whilom lord was of that land, Speake so plain at this time, I you pray, As were his worthy elders 16 him before, That we may understandE what ye say." And obedient, aye ready to his hand, This worthy Clerk benignely answ6r'd; Were all his lieges, bothe less and more: " Hoste," quoth he, " I am under your yerd4 Thus in delight he liv'd, and had done yore,L7 Ye have of us as now the governance, Belov'd and drad,l8 through favour of fortune, And therefore would I do you obeisance, Both of his lordes and of his commfne.l9 As far as reason asketh, hardily: 5 Therewith he was, to speak of lineage, I will you tell a tale, which that I The gentilest y-born of Lombardy, Learn'd at Padova of a worthy clerk, A fair pers6n, and strong, and young of age, As proved by his wordes and his werk. And full of honour and of courtesy: He is now dead, and nailed in his chest, Discreet enough his country for to gie,20 I pray to God to give his soul good rest. Saving in some things that he was to blame; Francis Petrarc', the laureate po t,6 And Walter was this younge lorde's name. Highte 7 this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet I blame him thus, that he consider'd not 1 Sophism. 2 Livelier mien. 3 Faith. 13 Petrarch, in his Latin romance, " De obedienti& et 4 Rod; as the emblem of government or direction. fide uxoria Mythologia," translated the charming story 5 Boldly, truly. of " the patient Grizel" from the Italian of Boccaccio's 6 Francesco Petrarca, born 1304, died 1374; for his "Decameron;" and Chaucer has closely followed Latin epic poem on the career of Scipio, called "Africa," Petrarch's translation, made in 1373, the year before he was solemnly crowned with the poetic laurel in the that in which he died. The fact that the embassy to Capitol of Rome, on Easter-day of 1341. Genoa, on which Chaucer was sent, took place in 7 Was called. 1372-73, has lent countenance to the opinion that the 8 An eminent jurist and philosopher, now almost English poet did actually visit the Italian bard at Padua, forgotten, who died four or five years after Petrarch. and hear the story from his own lips. This, however, 9 Saluzzo, a district of Savoy; its marquises were is only a probability; for it is a moot point whether the celebrated during the Middle Ages. two poets ever met. o1 The region called Emilia, across which ran the 14 Monte Viso, a lofty peak at the junction of the Via.Emilia-made by M. Emilius Lepidus, who was Maritime and Cottian Alps; from two springs on its consul at Rome B.C. 187. It continued the Flaminian east side rises the Po. 15 Pleasant. Way from Ariminum (Rimini) across the Po at Placen- 16 Ancestors. 17 Long. tia to Mediolanum (Milan), traversing Cisalpine Gaul. 18 Held in reverence, 19 Commonalty. 11 Narrate. 12 Irrelevant. 20 Guide, rule. 94 THE CANTERBURY TALES. In time coming what might him betide, That through your death your lineage should But on his present lust 1 was all his thought, slake,l2 And for to hawk and hunt on every side; And that a strange successor should8 take Well nigh all other cares let he slide, Your heritage, oh! woe were us on live:13 And eke he would (that was the worst of all) Wherefore we pray you hastily to wive." Wedde no wife for aught that might befall. Their meeke prayer and their piteous cheer Only that point his people bare so sore, Made the marquis for to have pity. That flockmel 2 on a day to him they went, " Ye will," quoth he, " mine owen people dear, And one of them, that wisest was of lore To that I ne'er ere 14 thought constraine me. (Or elles that the lord would best assent I me rejoiced of my liberty, That he should tell him what the people meant, That seldom time is found in marriage; Or ells could he well shew such matt6re), Where I was free, I must be in servage! 15 He to the marquis said as ye shall hear. "But natheless I see your true intent, " noble Marquis! your humanity And trust upon your wit, and have done aye: Assureth us and gives us hardiness, Wherefore of my free will I will assent As oft as time is of necessity, To wedde me, as soon as e'er I may. That we to you may tell our heaviness: But whereas ye have proffer'd me to-day Accepte, Lord, now of your gentleness, To choosP me a wife, I you release What we with piteous heart unto you plain, That choice, and pray you of that proffer cease. And let your ears my voice not disdain. "For God it wot, that children often been " All4 have I nought to do in this mattere Unlike their worthy elders them before, More than another man hath in this place, Bounte 6 comes all of God, not of the strene 17 Yet forasmuch as ye, my Lord so dear, Of which they be engender'd and y-bore: Have always shewed me favour and grace, I trust in Godde's bounte, and therefore I dare the better ask of you a space My marriage, and mine estate and rest, Of audience, to shewen our request, I him betake; 18 he may do as him lest. And ye, my Lord, to do right as you lest.' "Let me alone in choosing of my wife; " For certes, Lord, so well us liki you That charge upon my back I will endure: And all your work, and ev'r have done, that we But I you pray, and charge upon your life, Ne coulde not ourselves devise how That what wife that I take, ye me assure We mighte live in more felicity: To worship 9 her, while that her life may dure, Save one thing, Lord, if that your will it be, In word and work both here and elliswhere, That for to be a wedded man you lest; As she an emperorb's daughter were. Then were your people in sovereign heart's rest.6 "And farthermore this shall ye swear, that "Bowe your neck under the blissful yoke ye Of sovereignty, and not of service, Against my choice shall never grudge20 nor Which that men call espousal or wedl6ck: strive. And thinkS, Lord, among your thoughtes wise, For since I shall forego my liberty How that our dayes pass in sundry wise; At your request, as ever may I thrive, For though we sleep, or wake, or roam, or ride, Where as mine heart is set, there will I wive Aye fleeth time, it will no man abide. And but 21 ye will assent in such mannire, "And though your greene youthe flow'r as I pray you speak no more of this matt6re." yet, With heartly will they sworen and assent' In creepeth age always as still as stone, To all this thing, there said not one wight nay: And death meniceth every ago, and smit 7 Beseeching him of grace, ere that they went, In each estate, for there escapeth none: That he would grante them a certain day And all so certain as we know each one Of his espousal, soon as e'er he may, That we shall die, as uncertain we all For yet always the people somewhat dread 22 Be of that day when death shall on us fall. Lest that the marquis woulde no wife wed. "Accepte then of us the true intent,8 He granted them a day, such as him lest, That never yet refused youre hest,9. On which he would be wedded sickerly,23 And we will, Lord, if that ye will assent, And said he did all this at their request; Choose you a wife, in short time at the lest,0 And they with humble heart full buxomly,24 Born of the gentilest and of the best Kneeling upon their knees full reverently, Of all this land, so that it ought to seem Him thanked all; and thus they have an end Honour to God and you, as we can deem. Of their intent, and home again they wend. "Deliver us out of all this busy dread, And hereupon he to his officers And take a wife, for highe Godde's sake: Commanded for the feastP to purvey.25 For if it so befell, as God forbid, And to his privy knightes and squiers 1 Pleasure. 16 Goodness. 17 Stock, race. 2 All in a flock or body. 3 Complain of. 18 Commend to him. 19 Honour. 4 Although. 5 As pleaseth you. 20 Murmur. 21 Unless. 6 Completely satisfied, at ease. 7 Smiteth. 22 Were in fear or doubt. 23 Certainly. 8 Mind, desire. 9 Command. 10 Least. 24 Obediently; Anglo-Saxon, "bogsom," old English, 11 Doubt. 12 Cease, become extinct. " boughsome," that can be easily bent or bowed; Ger13 Alive. 14 Before. 15 Servitude, man, "biegsam," pliant, obedient. 25 Provide. THE CLERK'S TALE. 95 Such charge he gave, as him list on them lay: And saide, when they were in privity, And they to Iis commandement obey, "Will not our lord yet leave his vanity? And each of them doth all his diligence Will he not wed? Alas, alas the while! To do unto the feast all reverence. Why will he thus himself and us beguile?" But natheless this marquis had donel7 make Pars Secund. Of gemmes, set in gold and in azfire, Brooches and ringes, for Griselda's sake, Not far from thilke i palace honourable, And of her clothing took he the measufre Where as this marquis shope 2 his marriage, Of a maiden like unto her stature, There stood a thorp,3 of sighte delectable, And eke of other ornamentes all In which the poore folk of that villfge That unto such a wedding shoulde fall.18 Hadde their beastes and their harbourage,4 The time of undern 19 of the same day And of their labour took their sustenance, Approached, that this wedding shouldi be, After the earthe gave them abundance. And all the palace put was in array, Among this poore folk there dwelt a man Both hall and chamber, each in its degree, Which that was holden poorest of them all; Houses of office stuffed with plenty But highe God sometimes sende can There may'st thou see of dainteous vitaille, His grace unto a little ox's stall; That may be found, as far as lasts Itale. Janicola men of that thorp him call. This royal marquis, richely array'd, A daughter had he, fair enough to sight, Lordes and ladies in his company, And Griseldis this younge maiden hight. The which unto the feaste were pray'd, But for to speak of virtuous beauty, And of his retinue the bach'lery, Then was she one the fairest under sun: With many a sound of sundry melody, Full poorely y-foster'd up was she; Unto the village, of the which I told, No likerous lust 5 was in her heart y-run; In this array the right way did they hold. Well of ter of the well than of the tun 6 Griseld' of this (God wot) full innocent, She drank, and, for 7 she woulde virtue please, That for her shapen 20 was all this array, She knew well labour, but no idle ease. To fetche water at a well is went, But though this maiden tender were of age, And home she came as soon as e'er she may. Yet in the breast of her virginity For well she had heard say, that on that day There was inclos'd a sad and ripe corage; 8 The marquis shoulde wed, and, if she might, And in great reverence and charity She fain would have seen somewhat of that Her olde poore father foster'd she. sight. A few sheep, spinning, on the field she kept, She thought, "I will with other maidens She wouldi not be idle till she slept. stand, And when she homeward came, she would That be my fellows, in our door, and see bring The marchioness; and therefore will I fand 2 Wortes,9 and other herbes, times oft, To do at home, as soon as it may be, The which she shred and seeth'd for her living, The labour which belongeth unto me, And made her bed full hard, and nothing soft: And then I may at leisure her behold, And aye she kept her father's life on loft 10 If she this way unto the castle hold." With ev'ry obeisance and diligence, And as she would over the threshold gon, That child may do to father's reverence. The marquis came and gan for her to call, Upon Griselda, this poor creature, And she set down her water-pot anon Full often sithes n this marquis set his eye, Beside the threshold, in an ox's stall, As he on hunting rode, paraventure:12 And down upon her knees she gan to fall, And when it fell that he might her espy, And with sad 22 countenance kneeled still, He not with wanton looking of folly Till she had heard what was the lorde's will. His eyen cast on her, but in sadl3 wise The thoughtful marquis spake unto the maid Upon her cheer 4 he would him oft advise; 15 Full soberly, and said in this mann6re: Commending in his heart her womanhead, "Where is your father, Griseldis? " he said. And eke her virtue, passing any wight And she with reverence, in humble cheer,3 Of so young age, as well in cheer as deed. Answered, " Lord, he is all ready here." For though the people have no great insight And in she went withoute longer let,24 In virtue, he considered full right And to the marquis she her father fet.2 Her bounte6,6 and disposed that he would He by the hand then took the poore man, Wed only her, if ever wed he should. And saide thus, when he him had aside: The day of wedding came, but no wight can "Janicola, I neither may nor can Telle what woman that it shoulde be; Longer the pleasance of mine hearte hide; For which marvail wonder'd many a man, If that thou vouchisafe, whatso betide, 1 That. 2 Prepared; resolved on. 3 Hamlet. 14 Countenance, demeanour. 15 Consider. 4 Dwelling. 5 Luxurious pleasure. 16 Goodness. 17 Caused. 18 Befit. 6 Of water than of wine. 7 Because. 19 Afternoon, or evening; see note 14,page 79. 8 Steadfast and mature spirit. 20 Prepared, designed. 9 Plants, cabbages. o0 Up, aloft. 11 Times. [21 Strive. 22 Steady. 12 By chance. 13 Serious. 23 With humble air. 24 Delay. 25 Fetched. 96 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Thy daughter will I take, ere that I wend,l For to be dead; though me were loth to As for my wife, unto her life's end. dey." 18 "Thou lovest me, that know I well certain, "This is enough, Griselda mine," quoth he. And art my faithful liegiman y-bore,2 And forth he went with a full sober cheer, And all that liketh me, I dare well sayn Out at the door, and after then came she, It liketh thee; and specially therefore And to the people he said in this mann6re: Tell me that point, that I have said before,- "This is my wife," quoth he, " that standeth If that thou wilt unto this purpose draw, here. To tak8 me as for thy son-in-law." Honofre her, and love her, I you pray, This sudden case s the man astonied so, Whoso me loves; there is no more to say." That red he wax'd, abash'd,4 and all quaking And, for that nothing of her oldi gear He stood; unnethes 5 said he wordes mo', She shoulde bring into his house, he bade But only thus; " Lord," quoth he, " my willing That women should despoile 19 her right there; Is as ye will, nor against your liking Of which these ladies were nothing glad I will no thing, mine owen lord so dear; To handle her clothes wherein she was clad: Right as you list governe this mattere." But natheless this maiden bright of hue "Then will I," quoth the marquis soft8ly, From foot to head they clothed have all new. "That in thy chamber I, and thou, and she, Her haires have they comb'd that lay unHave a collati6n; 6 and know'st thou why? tress'd20 For I will ask her, if her will it be Full rudely, and with their fingers small To be my wife, and rule her after me: A crown upon her head they have dress'd, And all this shall be done in thy presence, And set her full of nouches 21 great and small: I will not speak out of thine audience.". Of her array why should I make a tale? And in the chamber while they were about Unneth5 the people her knew for her fairness, The treaty, which ye shall hereafter hear, When she transmuted was in such rich6ss. The people came into the house without, The marquis hath her spoused with a ring And wonder'd them in how honest mannere Brought for the same cause, and then her set And tenderly she kept her father dear; Upon a horse snow-white, and well ambling, But utterly Griseldis wonder might, And to his palace, ere he longer let 22 For never erst 8 ne saw she such a sight. (With joyful people, that her led and met), No wonder is though that she be astoned,9 Conveyed her; and thus the day they spend To see so great a guest come in that place, In revel, till the sunne gan descend. She never was to no such guestes woned;lo And, shortly forth this tale for to chase, For which she looked with full pale face. I say, that to this newe marchioness But shortly forth this matter for to chase,ll God hath such favour sent her of his grace, These are the wordes that the marquis said That it ne seemed not by likeliness To this benigne, very,,2 faithful maid. That she was born and fed in rudeness,"Griseld'," he said, " ye shall well under- As in a cot, or in an ox's stall,stand, But nourish'd in an emperore's hall. It liketh to your father and to me To every wight she waxen 23 is so dear That I you wed, and eke it may so stand, And worshipful, that folk where she was As I suppose ye will that it so be: born, But these demandes ask I first," quoth he, That from her birthi knew her year by year, "Since that it shall be done in hasty wise; Unnethes trowed 24 they, but durst have sworn, Will ye assent, or elles you advise? 13 That to Janicol' of whom I spake before, "I say this, be ye ready with good heart She was not daughter, for by conjectUre To all my lust,14 and that I freely may, Them thought she was another creatfre. As me best thinketh, do 15 you laugh or smart, For though that ever virtuous was she, And never ye to grudge,l6 night nor day, She was increased in such excellence And eke when I say Yea, ye say not Nay, Of thewes 25 good, y-set in high bounte, Neither by word, nor frowning countenance? And so discreet, and fair of eloquence, Swear this, and here I swear our alliance." So benign, and so digne 2 of reverence, Wond'ring upon this word, quaking for And coulde so the people's heart embrace, dread, That each her lov'd that looked on her face. She said; " Lord, indigne and unworthy Not only of Saluces in the town Am I to this honofr that ye me bede,l7 Published was the bounte of her name, But as ye will yourself, right so will I: But eke besides in many a regiotn; And here I swear, that never willingly If one said well, another said the same: In work or thought I will you disobey, So spread of here high bounte the fame, 1 Go. 2 Born. 17 Offer. 18 Die. 3 Event. 4 Amazed. 5 Scarcely. 19 Strip. 20 Loose, unplaited. 6 Conference. 7 Hearing. 21 Ornaments of some kind not precisely known; 8 Before. 9 Astonished. some editions read "ouches," studs, brooches. 0o accustomed, wont. 11 Push on, pursue. 22 Delayed. 23 Groyn. 12 True; French, "vraie." 13 Consider. 24 Scarcely believed. 25 Qualities. 14 Pleasure. 15 Cause. 16 Murmur. 26 Worthy. THE CLERK'S TALE. 97 That men and women, young as well as old, In which that I have put you, as I trow 16 Went to Saluces, her for to behold. Maketh you not forgetful for to be Thus Walter lowly,-nay, but royally,- That I you took in poor estate full low, Wedded with fortunate honestet,1 For any weal you must yourselfi know. In Goddi's peace lived full easily Take heed of every word that I you say, At home, and outward grace enough had he: There is no wight that hears it but we tway.17 And, for he saw that under low degree "Ye know yourself well how that ye came Was honest virtue hid, the people him held here A prudent man, and that is seen full seld'.2 Into this house, it is not long ago; Not only this Griseldis through her wit And though to me ye be right lefe 18 and dear, Couth all the feat 3 of wifely homeliness, Unto my gentles 19 ye be nothing so: But eke, when that the case required it, They say, to them it is great shame and woe The common profit coulde she redress: 4 For to be subject, and be in servage, There n'as discord, rancoir, nor heaviness To thee, that born art of small lineage. In all the land, that she could not appease, "And namely20 since thy daughter was y-bore And wisely bring them all in rest and ease. These wordis have they spoken doubteless; Though that her husband absent were or But I desire, as I have done before, non,5 To live my life with them in rest and peace: If gentlemen, or other of that country, I may not in this case be reckeless; Were wroth,6 she woulde bringi them at one, I must do with thy daughter for the best, So wise and ripe wordes hadde she, Not as I would, but as my gentles lest.21 And judgement of so great equity, "And yet, God wot, this is full loth22 to me: That she from heaven sent was, as men wend,7 But natheless withouti your weeting 23 People to save, and every wrong t' amend. I will nought do; but this will I," quoth he, Not longe time after that this Grisild' "That ye to me assenten in this thing. Was wedded, she a daughter had y-bore; Shew now your patience in your working, All she had lever 8 borne a knavi 9 child, That ye me hight 24 and swore in your village Glad was the marquis and his folk therefore; The day that maked was our marriage." For, though a maiden child came all before, When she had heard all this, she not amev'd25 She may unto a knavi child attain Neither in word, in cheer, nor countenance By likelihood, since she is not barren. (For, as it seemed, she was not aggriev'd); She saidi; " Lord, all lies in your pleasance, My child and I, with hearty obeisance Pars Tertia. Be youris all, and ye may save or spill 2 There fell, as falleth many times mo', Your owen thing: work then after your will. When that his child had sucked but a throw,l0 "There may no thing, so God my soule save, This marquis in his hearte longed so Lik to 27 you, that may displease me: To tempt his wife, her sadness 1 for to know, Nor I desire nothing for to have, That he might not out of his hearte throw Nor dreade for to lose, save only ye: This marvellous desire his wife t' assay; 12 This will is in mine heart, and aye shall be, Needless,13 God wot,,he thought her to affray.14 No length of time, nor death, may this deface, He had assayed her anough before, Nor change my corage 28 to another place." And found her ever good; what needed it Glad was the marquis for her answering, Her for to tempt, and always more and more? But yet he feigned as he were not so; Though some men praise it for a subtle wit, All dreary was his cheer and his looking But as for me, I say that evil it sit 15 When that he should out of.the chamber go. T' assay a wife when that it is no need, Soon after this, a furlong way or two,29 And putte her in anguish and in dread. He privily hath told all his intent For which this marquis wrought in this man- Unto a man, and to his wife him sent. n6re: A manner sergeant30 was this private man,3 He came at night alone there as she lay, The which he faithful often founden had With sterne face and with full troubled cheer, In thinges great, and eke such folk well can And saide thus; "Griseld'," quoth he, "that Do executi6n in thinges bad: day The lord knew well, that he him loved and That I you took out of your poor array, drad.32 And put you in estate of high nobless, And when this sergeant knew his lord's will, Ye have it not forgotten, as I guess. Into the chamber stalked he full still. "I say, Griseld', this present dignity, "Madam," he said, " ye must forgive it me, 1 Virtue. 2 Seldom. 18 Pleasant, loved. 19 Nobles, gentlefolk. 3 Knew, understood, all the duty or performance. 20 Especially. 21 Please. 22 Odious. 4 She could well labour for the public advantage. 23 Knowing. 24 Promised. 25 Changed. 5 Not. 6 At feud. 7 Weened, imagined. 26 Destroy. 27 Be pleasing. 28 Spirit, heart. 8 Though she had rather. 9 Male. 29 About as much time as one might take to walk a fur 10 Little while. 11 Steadfastness, endurance. long or two; a short space. 12 Try. 13 Causelessly. 14 Alarm, disturb. s0 A kind of squire. 31 Confidant, trusty tool. 15 It ill became him. 16 Believe. 17 Two, 32 Dreaded. G 98` 7THE CANTERBURY TALES. Though I do thing to which I am constrain'd; Shoulde the child full softly wind and wrap,' Ye be so wise, that right well knowe ye With all circumstances tenderly, That lordes' hest&s may not be y-feign'd; 1 And carry it in a coffer, or in lap; They may well be bewailed and complain'd, But, upon pain his head off for to swap,20 - But men must needs unto their lust 2 obey; That no man shoulde know of his intent, And so will I, there is no more to say. Nor whence he came, nor whither that he went; " This child I am commanded for to take." But at Bologna, to his sister dear, And spake no more, but out the child he hent 3 That at that time of Panic' 21 was Countess, Dispiteously,4 and gan a cheer to make 5 He should it take, and shew her this mattdre, As though he would have slain it ere he went. Beseeching her to do her business Griseldis must all suffer and consent: This child to foster in all gentleness, And as a lamb she sat there meek and still, And whose child it was he bade her hide And let this cruel sergeant do his will. From every wight, for aught that might betide. Suspicious6 was the diffame7 of this man, The sergeant went, and hath fulfill'd this Suspect his face, suspect his word also, thing. Suspect the time in which he this began: But to the marquis now returns we; Alas! her daughter, that she loved so, For now went he full fast imagining She'weened 8 he would have it slain right tho,9 If by his wife's cheer he might6 see, But natheless she neither wept nor siked,l0 Or by her wordes apperceive, that she Conforming her to what the marquis liked. Were changed; but he never could her find, But at the last to speake she began, But ever-in-one 22 alike sad 23 and kind. And meekly she unto the sergeant pray'd, As glad, as humble, as busy in service, So as he was a worthy gentle man, And eke in love, as she was wont to be, That she might kiss her child, ere that it died: Was she to him, in every manner wise; 24 And in her barme 1 this little child she laid, And of her daughter not a word spake she; With full sad face, and gan the child to bless,2 No accident for no adversity25 And lulled it, and after gan it kiss. Was seen in her, nor e'er her daughter's name And thus she said in her benigne voice: She named, or in earnest or in game. "Farewell, my child, I shall thee never see; But, since I have thee marked with the cross, Of that father y-blessed may'st thou be ars Quarta. That for us died upon a cross of tree: In this estate there passed be four year Thy soul, my little child, I him betake,l3 Ere she with child5 was; but, as God wo'ld, For this night shalt thou dien for my sake." A knav 26 child she bare by this Waltere, I trow 14 that to a norice 15 in this case Full gracious and fair for to behold; It had been hard this ruthi 16 for to see: And when that folk it to his father told, Well might a mother then have cried, " Alas! " Not only he, but all his country, merry But natheless so sad steadfast was she, Were for this child, and God they thank and That she endured all adversity, hery.27 And to the sergeant meekely she said, When it was two year old, and from the " Have here again your little younge maid. breast "Go now," quoth she, "and do my lord's Departed28 of the norice, on a day behest. This marquis caughte yet another lest 2 And one thing would I pray you of your grace, To tempt his wife yet farther, if he may. But if 17 my lord forbade you at the least, Oh! needless was she tempted in assay; -3 Bury this little body in some place, But wedded men not connen no measfire,3 That neither beasts nor birdis it arace."18 When that they find a patient creature. But he no word would to that purpose say, "Wife," quoth the marquis, " ye have heard But took the child and went upon his way. ere this The sergeant came unto his lord again, My people sickly bear 32 our marriage; And of Griselda's words and of her cheer 9 And namely 33 since my son y-boren is, He told him point for point, in short and plain, Now is it worse than ever in all our age: And him presented with his daughter dear. The murmur slays mine heart and my corige, Somewhat this lord had ruth in his mann6re, For to mine ears cometh the voice so smart,34 But natheless his purpose held he still, That it well nigh destroyed hath mine heart. As lordes do, when they will have their will; "Now say they thus,'When Walter is And bade this sergeant that he privily y-gone, 1 It will not do merely to feign compliance with a 20 Strike. 21 Panico. 22 Constantly. lord's commands. 2 Pleasure. 23 Steadfast. 24 Sort of way. 3 Seized. 4 Unpityingly. 25 No change of humour resulting from her affliction. 5 To make a show, assume an aspect. 26 Male, boy. 27 Praise. 28 Taken, weaned. 6 Ominous. 7 Reputation, evil fame. 29 Was seized by yet another desire. 8 Thought. 9 Then. 10 Sighed. 11 Lap, bosom. 30 Trial. 81 Know no moderation. 12 Cross. 13 Commit unto him. 14 Believe. 32 Do not regard with pleasure. Compare the Latin 15 Nurse. 16 Pitiful case, sight. 17 Unless. phrase, "segre ferre." 33 Especially. 18 Tear; French, "arracher." 19 Demeanour..34 Sorely, painfully. eTH CLiES S TALE. 99 Then shall the blood of'Janicol' succeed, That perfectly her children loved she, And be our lord, for other have we none:' He would have ween'd 1 that of some subtilty, Such wordes say my people, out of drede.1 And of malice, or for cruel corage,l4 Well ought I of such murmur take heed, She haddB suffer'd this with sad 15 visage. For certainly I dread all such sentence, But well he knew, that, next himself, certain Though they not plainen in mine audience.3 She lov'd her children best in every wise. "I woulde live in peace, if that I might; But now of women would I aske fain, Wherefore I am disposed utterly, If these assayes mighte not suffice? As I his sister served ere 4 by night, What could a sturdy 16 husband more devise Right so think I to serve him privily. To prove her wifehood and her steadfastness, This warn I you, that ye not suddenly And he continuing ev'r in sturdiness? Out of yourself for no woe should outraie; 5 But there be folk of such conditin, Be patient, and thereof I you pray." That, when they have a certain purpose take, "I have," quoth she, "said thus, and ever They cannot stint 17 of their intention, shall, But, right as they *ere bound unto a stake, I will no thing, nor n'ill no thing, certain, They will not of their firste purpose slake: But as you list; not grieveth me at all Right so this marquis fully hath purp6s'd Though that my daughter and my son be slain To tempt his wife, as he was first dispos'd. At your commandement; that is to sayn, He waited, if by word or countenance I have not had no part of children twain, That she to him was changed of corfge 19 But first sickness, and after woe and pain. But never could he finde variance, "Ye be my lord, do with your owen thing She was aye one in heart and in visage, Right as you list, and ask no rede 6 of me; And aye the farther that she was in age, For, as I left at home all my clothing The more true (if that it were possible) When I came first to you, right so," quoth she, She was to him in love, and more penible.20 " Left I my will and all my liberty, For which it seemed thus, that of them two And took your clothing: wherefore I you pray, There was but one will; for, as Walter,lest,21 Do your pleasance, I will your lust 7 obey. The same pleasince was her lust also; "And, certes,'if I hadde prescience And, God be thanked, all fell for the best. Your will to know, ere ye your lust 7 me told, She shewed well, for no worldly unrest, I would it do withoute negligence: A wife as of herself no thinge should But, now I know your lust, and what ye wo'ld, Will, in effect, but as her husband would. All your pleasance firm and stable I hold; The sland'r of Walter wondrous wid5 sprad, For, wist I that my death might do you ease, That of a cruel heart he wickedly, Right gladly would I dien you to please. For 22 he a poore woman wedded had, "Death may not make no comparisoun Had murder'd both his children privily: Unto your love." And when this marquis says Such murmur was among them commonly. The constance of his wife, he cast adown No wonder is: for to the people's ear His eyen two, and wonder'd how she may There came no word, but that they murder'd In patience suffer all this array; were. And forth he went with dreary countenance; For which, whereas his people therebefore But to his heart it was full great pleasance. Had lov'd him well, the sland'r of his diffame 23 This ugly sergeant, in the same wise Made them that they him hated therefore. That he her daughter caught, right so hath he To be a murd'rer is a hateful name. (Or worse, if men can any worse devise,) But natheless, for earnest or for game, Y-hent 9 her son, that full was of beauty: He of his cruel purpose would not stent; 24 And ever-in-one 1 so patient was she, To tempt his wife was set all his intent. That she no cheere made of heaviness, When that his daughter twelve year was of But kiss'd her son, and after gan him bless. age, Save this she prayed him, if that he might, He to the Court of Rome, in subtle wise Her little son he would in earthe grave,"1 Informed of his will, sent his message,25 His tender limbes, delicate to sight, Commanding him such bulles to devise From fowles and from beastes for to save. As to his cruel purpose may suffice, But she none answer of him mighte have; How that the Pope, for his people's rest, He went his way, as him nothing ne raught,l2 Bade him to wed another, if him lest.26 But to Bologna tenderly it brought. I say he bade they shoulde counterfeit The marquis wonder'd ever longer more The Pope's bulles, making menti6n Upon her patience; and, if that he That he had leave his firste wife to lete,7 Not hadde soothly knowen therebefore As by the Pope's dispensation, 1 Doubt. 2 Expression of opinion. 17 Cease. 18 Slacken, abate, 3 Complain in my hearing. 4 Before. 19 Spirit. 5 Become outrageous, rave. 6 Advice. 20 Devoted, full of painstaking in duty. 7 Will. Saw. 9 Seized. 21 Pleased. 22 Because. 10 Unvaryingly. 11 Bury. 12 Recked, cared. 23 Evil repute, reproach. 24 Desist, stop, s1 Thought. 14 Disposition. 25 Messenger; for French' "messager." 15 Steadfast, unmoved. 16 Stubborn, stern. 26 Please.d. 27 Leave. iao THE CANTERBURY TALES. To stinte 1 rancour and dissension And truely, thus much I will you say, Betwixt his people and him: thus spake the bull, My newe wife is coming by the way. The which they have published at full. "Be strong of heart, and void anon9 her The rudl people, as no wonder is, place; Weened 2 full well that it had been right so: And thilke 10 dower that ye brought to me,;But, when these tidings came to Griseldis, Take it again, I grant it of my grace. I deeme that her heart was full of woe; Returne to your father's house," quoth he; But she, alike sad 3 for evermo', " No man may always have prosperity; Disposed was, this humble creatfire, With even heart I rede 1 you to endure Th' adversity of fortune all t' endure; The stroke of fortune or of Aventfire." Abiding ever his lust and his pleasance, And she again answ6r'd in patience: To whom that she was given, heart and all, "My Lord," quoth she, "I know, and knew As to her very worldly suffisance.4 alway, But, shortly if this story tell I shall, How that betwixte your magnificence The marquis written hath in special And my povert' no wight nor can nor may A letter, in which he shewed his intent, Make comparison, it is no nay; 12 And secretly it to Bologna sent. I held me never digne 13 in no mannere To th' earl of Panico, which haddetho5 To be your wife, nor yet your chamberfre.14 Wedded his sister, pray'd he specially "And in this house, where ye me lady made, To bringe home again his children two (The highe God take I for my witness, In honourable estate all openly: And all so wisly 15 he my soule glade), But one thing he him prayed utterly, I never held me lady nor mistress, That he to no wight, though men would in- But humble servant to your worthiness, quere, And ever shall, while that my life may dure, Shoulde not tell whose children that they were, Aboven every worldly creature. But say, the maiden should y-wedded be "That ye so long, of your benignity, Unto the marquis of Salfice anon. Have holden me in honour and nobley,16 And as this earl was prayed, so did he, Where as I was not worthy for to be, For, at day set, he on his way is gone That thank I God and you, to whom I pray Toward Salice, and lordis many a one Foryield 17 it you; there is no more to say: In rich array, this maiden for to guide,- Unto my father gladly will I wend,l8 Her younge brother riding her beside. And with him dwell, unto my life's end, Arrayed was toward 6 her marriage " Where I was foster'd as a child full small; This freshe maiden, full of gemmes clear; Till I be dead my life there will I lead, Her brother, which that seven year was of age, A widow clean in body, heart, and all. Arrayed eke full fresh in his mannere: For since I gave to you my maidenhead, And.thus, in great nobless, and with glad cheer, And am your true wife, it is no dread,l9 Toward Saluces shaping their journey, God shielde 20 such a lordi's wife to take From day to day they rode upon their way. Another man to husband or to make.21 "And of your newe wife, God of his grace Pars Quinta. So grant you weal and all prosperity: Among all'this,7 after his wick' usage, For I will gladly yield to her my place, The marquis, yet his wife to tempte more In which that I was blissful wont to be. To the uttermost proof of her cortge, For since it liketh you, my Lord," quoth she, Fully to have experience and lore 8 " That whilom weren all mine hearte's rest, If that she were as steadfast as before, That shall go, I will go when yo lest. He on a day, in open audience, "'But whereas ye me proffer such dowaire Full boisterously said her this sentence: As I first brought, it is well in my mind, " Certes, Griseld', I had enough pleasance It was my wretched clothis, nothing fair, To have you to my wife, for your goodness, The which to me were hard now for to find. And for your truth, and for your obeisance, 0 goodi God! how gentle and how kind Not for your lineage, nor for your richess; Ye seemed by your speech and your visage, But now know I, in very soothfastness, The day that maked was our marriage! That in great lordship, if I well advise, "But sooth is said,-algate 22 I find it true, There is great servitude in sundry wise. For in effect it proved is on me," I may not do as every ploughman may: Love is not old as when that it is new. My people me constraineth for to take But certes, Lord, for no adversity, Another wife, and cryeth day by day; To dien in this case, it shall not be And eke the Pope, rancour for to slake, That e'er in word or work I shall repent Consenteth it, that dare I undertake: That I you gave mine heart in whole intent. 1 Put an end to. 10 That. 1l Counsel. 12 Not to be denied. 2 Thought, believed. 3 Steadfast. 13 Worthy. 14 Chamber-maid. 15 Surely. 4 To the utmost extent of her power. 5 Then. 16 Nobility. 17 Recompense, reward. 6 As if for. 7 While all this was going on. 18 Go. 19 Doubt. 20 Forbid. 8 Knowledge. 9 Immediately make vacant., 21 Mate. 22 At all eyents. THE CLERK'S TALE. o10 "My Lord, ye know that in my father's place Dwelled this flow'r of wifely patience, Ye did me strip out of my poore weed,1 That neither by her words nor by her face, And richily ye clad me of your grace; Before the folk nor eke in their absence, To you brought I nought elles, out of dread, Ne shewed she that her was done offence, But faith, and nakedness, and maidenhead; Nor of her high estate no r6membrance And here again your clothing I restore, Ne hadde she, as by 19 her countenance. And eke your wedding ring for evermore. No wonder is, for in her great estate "The remnant of your jewels ready be Her ghost 20 was ever in plein 21 humility; Within your chamber, I dare safely sayn: No tender mouth, no hearte delicate, Naked out of my father's house," quoth she, No pomp, and no semblant of royalty; "I came, and naked I must turn again. But full of patient benignity, All your pleasance would I follow fain:2 Discreet and prideless, aye honourable, But yet I hope it be not your intent And to her husband ever meek and stable. That smockless 3 I out of your palace went. Men speak of Job, and most for his humbless, "Ye could not do so dishon6st 4 a thing, As clerkes, when them list, can well indite, That thilke 5 womb, in which your children lay, Namely 2 of men; but, as in soothfastness, Shoulde before the people, in my walking, Though clerkes praise women but a lite,2 Be seen all bare: and therefore I you pray, There can no man in hmbless him acuite Let me not like a worm go by the way: As women can, nor can be half so true Remember you, mine owen Lord so dear, As women be, but it be fall of new.24 I was your wife, though I unworthy were. "Wherefore, in guerdon 6 of my maidenhead,rs Which that I brought and not again I bear, From Bologn' is the earl of Panic' come, As vouchisafe to give me to my meed 6 Of which the fame up sprang to more and less; But such a smock as I was wont to wear, And to the people's earis all and some That I therewith may wrie 7 the womb of her Was known eke, that a newi marchioness That was your wife: and here I take my leave He with him brought, in such pomp and rich6ss Of you, mine owen Lord, lest I you grieve." That never was there seen with manne's eye " The smock," quoth he, "that thou hast on So noble array in all West Lombardy. thy back, The marquis, which that shope25 and knew Let it be still, and bear it forth with thee." all this, But well unnethes 8 thilke word he spake, Ere that the earl was come, sent his message 6 But went his way for ruth and for pity. For thilk6 poor6 sely 27 Griseldis; Before the folk herself6 stripped she, And she, with humble heart and glad visage, And in her smock, with foot and head all bare, Nor with no swelling thought in her corage,2 Toward her father's house forth is she fare.9 Came at his hest,29 and on her knees her set, The folk her follow'd weeping on her way, And rev'rently and wisely she him gret.30 And fortune aye they cursed as they gon: 10 "Griseld'," quoth he, "my will is utterly, But she from weeping kept her eyen drey,l This maiden, that shall wedded be to me, Nor in this timi wordi spake she none. Received be to-morrow as royally Her father, that this tiding heard anon, As it possible is in my house to be; Cursed the day and timi, that natfire And eke that every wight in his degree Shope 1 him to be a living creature. Have his estate 31 in sitting and service, For, out of doubt, this oldi poori man And in high pleasance, as I can devise. Was ever in susp6ct of her marriage: "I have no women sufficient, certain, For ever deem'd he, since it first began, The chambers to array in ordinance That when the lord fulfill'd had his corage,l3 After my lust;32 and therefore would I fain He would6 think it were a disparage 4 That thine were all such manner governance: To his estate, so low for to alight, Thou knowest eke of old all my pleasance; And voide 15 her as soon as e'er he might. Though thine array be bad, and ill besey,33 Against 16 his daughter hastily went he Do thou thy devoir at the leaste way." 34 (For he by noise of folk knew her coming), " Not only, Lord, that I am glad," quoth she, And with her olde coat, as it might be, " To do your lust, but I desire also He cover'd her, full sorrowfully weeping: ~ You for to serve and please in my degree, But on her body might he it not bring,l7 Withoute fainting, and shall evermo': For rude was the cloth, and more of age Nor ever for no weal, nor for no woe, By dayis felel than at her marriage. Ne shall the ghost 35 within mine hearte stent 3 Thus with her father for a certain space To love you best with all my true intent." 1 Raiment. 2 Cheerfully.:18 Many; German, "viel." 19 To judge from. 3 Naked. 4 Dishonourable. 5 That. 20 Spirit. 21 Full. 22 Particularly. 6 Reward. 7 Cover. 8 With difficulty. 23 Little. 24 Unless it has lately come to pass. 9 Gone. 10 Go. 11 Dry. 25 Arranged. 26 Messenger. 27 Innocent. 12 Formed, ordained. 28 Mind. 29 Command. 30 Greeted. 13 Had gratified his inclination. 31 What.befits his condition. 32 Pleasure. 14 Disparagement, 15 Dismiss, get rid of. 33 Poor to look pn. 34 In the quickest manner. 16 To meet. 17 Cause it to meet. 35 Spirit. 36 Cease. 102 THE CANTERBURY TALES. And with that word she gan the house to So well, that no man could her praise amend: dight,1 But at the last, when that these lordes wend'8 And tables for to set, and beds to make, To sitte down to meat, he gan to call And pained her 2 to do all that she might, Griseld', as she was busy in the hall. Praying the chambereres for Goddi's sake " Griseld'," quoth he, as it were in his play, To hasten them, and fasti sweep and shake, " How liketh thee my wife, and her beauty?" And she the most serviceable of all "Right well, my Lord," quoth she, "for, in Hath ev'ry chamber arrayed, and his hall. good fay,l9 Abouten undern 3 gan the earl alight, A fairer saw I never none than she: That with him brought these noble children I pray to God give you prosperity; tway; And so I hope, that he will to you send For which the people ran to see the sight Pleasance enough unto your lives' end. Of their array, so richily besey;4 "One thing beseech I you, and warn also, And then at erst5 amonges them they say, That ye not pricke with no t6rmenting That Walter was no fool, though that him lest 6 This tender maiden, as ye have done mo: 20 To change his wife; for it was for the best. For she is foster'd in her nourishing For she is fairer, as they deemen7 all, More tenderly, and, to my supposing, Than is Griseld', and more tender of age,' She might6 not adversity endure And fairer fruit between them shoulde fall, As could a poore foster'd creature." And more pleasant, for her high lineage: And when this Walter saw her patience, Her brother eke so fair was of visage, Her gladde cheer, and no malice at all, That them to see the people hath caught plea- And21 he so often had her done offence, sance, And she aye sad 2 and constant as a wall, Commending now the marquis' governance. Continuing ev'r her innocence o'er all, "0 Ostormy people, unsad and ev'r untrue, The sturdy marquis gan his heartB dress 23 And undiscreet, and changing as a vane, To rue upon her wifely steadfastness. Delighting ev'r in rumour that is new, "This is enough, Griselda mine," quoth he, For like the moon so waxe ye and wane: " Be now no more aghast, nor evil paid,24 Aye full of clapping, dear enough a jane,9 I have thy faith and thy benignity Your doom' is false, your constance evil As well as ever woman was, assay'd, preveth," In great estate and poorely array'd: A full great fool is he that you believeth." Now know I, dearB wife, thy steadfastness;" Thus saide the sad 2 folk in that city, And her in arms he took, and gan to kiss. When that the people gazed up and down; And she for wonder took of it no keep;25 For they were glad, right for the novelty, She heardb not what thing he to her said: To have a newe lady of their town. She far'd as she had start out of a sleep, No more of this now make I mentiofn, Till she out of her mazedness abraid.26 But to Griseld' again I will me dress, "Griseld'," quoth he, "by God that for us And tell her constancy and business. died, Full busy was Griseld' in ev'ry thing Thou art my wife, none other I have, That to the feaste was appertinent; Nor ever had, as God my soule save. Right nought was she abash'd 13 of her clothing, "This is thy daughter, which thou hast supThough it were rude, and somedeal eke to- pos'd rent; 14 To be my wife; that other faithfully But with glad cheer unto the gate she went Shall be mine heir, as I have aye dispos'd; With other folk, to greet the marchioness, Thou bare them of thy body truely: And after that did forth her business. At Bologna kept I them privily: With so glad cheer his guestes she receiv'd Take them again, for now may'st thou not say And so conninglyl5 each in his degree, That thou hast lorn27 none of thy children That no defaulte no man apperceiv'd, tway. But aye they wonder'd what she mighte be "And folk, that otherwise have said of me, That in so poor array was for to see, I warn them well, that I have done this deed And coude 16 such honour and reverence; For no malice, nor for no cruelty, And worthily they praise her prudence. But to assay in thee thy womanhead: In all this meane while she not stent 17, And not to slay my children (God forbid), This maid, and eke her brother, to commend But for to keep them privily and still, With all her heart in full benign intent, Till I thy purpose knew, and all thy will." 1 Arrange. 2 Took all pains, used every exertion. 17 Ceased. 18 Thought. 19 Faith. 3 Eventide, or afternoon; though by some "undern" 20 Me. " This is one of the most licentious corrupis understood as dinner-time-9 A.M. tions of orthography," says Tyrwhitt, "that I remem4 So rich to behold. 5 For the first time. ber to have observed in Chaucer;" but such liberties 6 Pleased. 7 Think. 8 Variable. were common among the European poets of his time, 9 A small coin of little value. 10 Judgment. when there was an extreme lack of certainty in ortho11 Proveth. 12 Sedate. 13 Ashamed, graphy. 21 Although. 22 Steadfast. 14 Torn. 15 Cleverly, skilfully. 23 Prepare, incline. 24 Afraid nor displeased. 16 Knew, understood how to do. 25 Notice, heed. 26 Awoke. 27 Lost. THE CLERK'S TALE. 103 When she this heard, in swoon adown she His wife's father in his'court he kept, falleth Till that the soul out of his body crept. For piteous joy; and after her swooning, His son succeeded in his heritage, She both her younge children to her calleth, In rest and peace, after his father's day: And inher armes piteously weeping And fortunate was eke in marriage, Embraced them, and tenderly kissing, All 18 he put not his wife in great assay: Full like a mother, with her salte tears This world is not so strong, it is no nay,19 She bathed both their visage and their hairs. As it hath been in oldi times yore; 0, what a piteous thing it was to see And hearken what this author saith, therefore: Her swooning, and her humble voice to hear! This story is said,20 not for that wives should " Grand mercy, Lord, God thank it you," quoth Follow Griselda in humility, she, For it were importable 21 though they would; "That ye have saved me my children dear; But for that every wight in his degree Now reck1 I never to be dead right here; Shoulde be constant in adversity, Since I stand in your love, and in your grace, As was Griselda; therefore Petrarch writeth No force of 2 death, nor when my spirit pace.3 This story, which with high style he inditeth. " 0 tender, 0 dear, 0 young children mine, For, since a woman was so patient Your woeful mother weened steadfastly 4 Unto a mortal man, well more we ought That cruel houndes, or some foul vermine, Receiven all in gree 22 that God us sent. Had eaten you; but God of his mercy, For great skill is he proved that he wrought: 23 And your benigne father, tenderly But he tempteth no man that he hath bought, Have done you keep:"5 and in that same As saith Saint James, if ye his'pistle read; stound,6 He proveth folk all day, it is no dread.24 All suddenly she'swapt 7 down to the ground. And suffereth us, for our exercise And suffereth us, for our exercise, And in her swoon so sadly 8 holdeth she ith sharp scourges of adversity Her children two, when she gan them embrace, Full often to be beat in sundry wise That with great sleight 9 and great difficulty Not for to know our will, for certes he The children from her arm they can arace, Ere we were born, knew all our frailty O! many a tear on many a piteous facend for our best is a his governance Down ran of them that stoode her beside, Let us then live in virtuous sufferance UJnneth" abouti her might they abide. Walter her gladdeth, and her sorrow slaketh:12 But one word, lordings, hearken, ere I go:' It were full hard to finde now-a-days She riseth up abashed 13 from her trance, In all a town rids tr or tw In all a town Griseldas three or two: And every Wvight her joy and feaste maketh,.And every ight her joy and feastS maketh,. For, if that they were put to such assays, Till she hath caught again her countenance. o s aays The gold of them hath now so bad allays 25 WValter her doth so faithfully pleasance, Walter her doth so faithfully pleasce, With brass, that though the coin be fair at eye,26 That it was dainty for to see the cheer It woulde rather break in two than ply. 27 Betwixt them two, since they be met in fere.l4 For which here, for the WifS's love of Bath,The ladies, when that they their time sey, 1 Whose life and all her sex may God maintain Have taken her,.and ino chamber gone, In high mast'r., and ellis were it scath,28 — Have taken her, and into chamber gone, And stripped her out of her rude array, I will, with lusty heart fresh and green, And in a cloth of gold that brightly shone, Say you a song to gladden you, I ween: And with a crown of many a riche stone And let us stint of earnestful mattere. Upon her head, they into hall her brought: Hearken my song, that saith in this mann6re. And there she was honofired as her ought. Thus had this piteous day a blissful end; L'Envoy of Chaucer. For every man and woman did his might This day in mirth and revel to dispend, Griseld' is dead, and eke her patience, Till on the welkin 16 shone the starrSs bright: And both at once are buried in Itale: For more solemn in every manne's sight For which I cry in open audience, This feastS was, and greater of costage,17 No wedded man so hardy be t' assail Than was the revel of her marriage. His wife's patience, in trust to find Full many a year in high prosperity Griselda's, for in certain he shall fail. Lived these two in concord and in rest; " noble wivSs, full of high prudence, And richely his daughter married he Let no humility your tongues nail: Unto a lord, one of the worthiest Nor let no clerk have cause or diligence Of all Itale; and then in peace and rest To write of you a story of such marvail, 1 Care. 2 No matter for. 3 Departs. 19 Not to be denied. 4 Believed firmly. 5 Caused you to be preserved. 20 The fourteen lines that follow are translated almost 6 Instant. 7 Fell. 8 Firmly. literally from Petrarch's Latin. 9 Art. 10 Pluck away, withdraw.. 21 Impossible; not to be borne. 22 Good-will. 11 Scarcely. 12 Assuages. 13 Astonished. 23 For it is most reasonable that He should prove or 14 Together. 15 Saw. 16 Firmament. test that which He made. 24 Doubt. 25 Alloys. 17 Expense; sumptuousness. 18 Although. 26 To view. 27 Bend. 28 Damage, pity. o14 THE CANTERBURY TALES. As of Griselda patient and kind, She would him overmatch, I dare well swear. Lest Chichivache 1 you swallow in her entrail. Why should I you rehearse in special " Follow Echo, that holdeth no silence, Her high malice.? she is a shrew at all.13 But ever answereth at the countertail; 2 There is a long.and larg difference Be not bedaffed 3 for your innocence, Betwixt Griselda's greate patience, But sharply take on you the governail; 4 And of my wife the passing cruelty. Imprinte well this lesson in your mind, Were I unbounden, all so may I th6,14 For common profit, since it may avail. I woulde never eft 15 come in the snare. " Ye archiwives,5 stand aye at defence, We wedded men live in sorrow and care; - Ye archiwivls, stand ye sat defence, Since ye be strong as is a great carail,6 Assay it whoso will, and he shall find Nor suffer not that men do you offence. That I say sooth, by Saint Thomas of Ind, Nor suffer not that men do you offence. A.. t l p As for the more part; I say not all,And slender wives, feeble in battail,s o he o at say not all, Be eager as a tiger yond in Ind edded be Be eager as a tiger yondl in Ind; * God shield'16 that it shouldS so befall. Aye clapping as a mill, I you counsail. Thee mo d Sir Host, hav e wedded e These moneths two, and more not, pardigs; "Nor dread them not, nor do them reverence;,, p ai thine husband armed be in mail, And yet I trow 12 that he that all his life For though thin husband arl, Wifeless hath been, though that men would The arrows of thy crabbed eloquence Shall pierce his breast, and eke his aventail; 7 hem r v In jealousy I rede 8 eke thou him bind, Telo much sorrt, as I you here And thou shalt make him couch 9 as doth a TeCul so much sorrf 6 as I you here quail. Could tellen of my wife's cursedness." 17 quail. " Now," quoth our Host, " Merchant, so God "If thou be fair, where folk be in presenceo uo ou o you bless, Shew thou thy visage and thine apparail: Since ye so mc knowen of that art, If thou be foul, be free of thy dispence; Full hertily I pray you tell us part." To get thee friendSs aye do thy travail: Gladly" quoth he; "but of mine owen Be aye of cheer as light as leaf on lind, sore And let him care, and weep, and wring, and For sory heart, I tell may more wail." THE TALE.'S Whilom there'was dwelling in Lombardy THE MERCHANT'S TALEa. A worthy knight, that born was at Pavie, THE PROLOGUE."1 In which he liv'd in great prosperity; And forty years a wifeless man was he, "WEEPING and wailing, care and other sorrow, And follow'd aye his bodily delight I have enough, on even and on morrow," On women, where as was his appetite, Quoth the Merchant, " and so have other mo', As do these foolSs that be seculeres.19 That wedded be; I trow 12 that it be so; And, when that he was passed sixty years, For well I wot it fareth so by me. Were it for holiness, or for dotage, I have a wife, the worste that may be, I cannot say, but such a great corfge 2 For though the fiend to her y-coupled were, Haddc this knight to be a wedded man, 1 Chichevache, in old popular fable, was a monster them aside as spurious, and in admitting the genuinethat fed only on good women, and was always very ness of the first only, if it be supposed that Chaucer forthin from scarcity of such food; a corresponding got to cancel it when he had decided on another mode monster, 3Bycorne, fed only on obedient and kind hus- of connecting the Merchant's with the Clerk's Tale. bands, and was always fat. The origin of the fable was 12 Believe. French; but Lydgate has a ballad on the subject. 13 Thoroughly, in everything, wicked. " Chichevache" literally means "niggardly" or "greedy 14 So may I thrive 1 15 Again. cow." 16 Guard, forbid. 17 Wickedness, shrewishness. 2 Counter-tally or counter-foil; something exactly 18 If, as is probable, this Tale was translated from the corresponding. 3 Befooled. 4 Helm. French, the original is not now extant. Tyrwhitt re5 Wives of rank. 6 Camel. marks that the scene "is laid in Italy, but none of the 7 Forepart of a helmet, vizor. 8 Advise. names, except Damian and Justin, seem to be Italian, 9 Submit, shrink. 10 Linden, lime-tree. but rather made at pleasure; so that I doubt whether 11 Though the manner in which the Merchant takes the story be really of Italian growth. The adventure up the closing words of the Envoy to the Clerk's of the pear-tree I find in a small collection of Latin Tale, and refers to the patience of Griselda, seems to fables, written by one Adolphus, in elegiac verses of prove beyond doubt that the order of the Tales in the his fashion, in the year 1315... Whatever was the text is the right one, yet in some manuscripts of good real origin of the Tale, the machinery of the fairies, authority the Franklin's Tale follows the Clerk's, and which Chaucer has used so happily, was probably the Envoy is concluded by this stanza:- added by himself; and, indeed, I cannot help thinking " This worthy Clerk when ended was his tale, that his Pluto and Proserpina were the true progenitors Our Host said, and swore by cockS's bones of Oberon and Titania; or rather, that they themselves'Me lever were than a barrel of ale have, once at least, deigned to revisit our poetical system under the latter names." My wife at home had heard this legend once; tm under the latter names" This is a gentle tal for thie nonce 19 Of the laity; but perhaps, since the word is of twoAs to my purpose, wisti te cmy wili, fold meaning, Chaucer intends a hit at the secular But thing that will not be let it be still."' clergy, who, unlike the regular orders, did not live t t. separate from the world, but shared in all its interests In other manuscripts of less authority, the Host pro- and pleasures-all the more easily and freely, that they ceeds, in two similar stanzas, to impose a Tale on the had not the civil restraint of marriage. Franklin; but Tyrwhitt is probably right in setting 20 Inclination. THE MERCHANT'S TALE. io$ That day and night he did all that he can That passen as a shadow on the wall: To espy where that he might wedded be; But dread 22 thou not, if plainly speak I shall, Praying our Lord to grante him, that he A wife will last, and in thine house endure, Mighte once knowen of that blissful life Well longer than thee list, pariventure.23 That is.betwixt a husband and his wife, Marriage is a full great sacrament; And for to live under that holy bond He which that hath no wife, I hold him shent; 24 With which God firste man and woman bond. He liveth helpless, and all desolate "None other life," said he, "is worth a bean; (I speak of folk in secular estate25): For wedlock is so easy, and so clean, And hearken why,-I say not this for nought,That in this world it is a paradise." That woman is for manne's help y-wrought. Thus said this olde knight, that was so wise. The highe God, when he had Adam maked, And certainly, as sooth 1 as God is king, And saw him all alone belly naked, To take a wife it is a glorious thing,. God of his greate goodness saide then, And namely2 when a man is old and hoar, Let us now make a help unto this man Then is a wife the fruit of his treas6r; Like to himself; and then he made him Eve. Then should he take a young wife and a fair, Here may ye see, and hereby may ye preve,'6 On which he might engender him an heir, That a wife is man's help and his comf6rt, And lead his life in joy and in solace; 3 His paradise terrestre and his disport. Whereas these bachelors singen " Alas! " So buxom 27 and so virtuous is she, When that they find any adversity They muste needes live in unity; In love, which is but childish vanity. One flesh they be, and one blood, as I guess, And truely it sits4 well to be so, With but one heart in weal and in distress. That bachelors have often pain and woe: A wife? Ah! Saint Mar., ben'dicite, On brittle ground they build, and brittleness How might a man have any adversity They finde, when they weene sickerness: 5 That hath a wife? certes I cannot say They live but as a bird or as a beast, The bliss the which that is betwixt them tway, In liberty, and under no arrest; 6 There may no tongue it tell, or hearte think. Whereas a wedded man in his estate If he be poor, she helpeth him to swink; 28 Liveth a life blissful and ordinate, She keeps his good, and wasteth never a deal;9 Under the yoke of marriage y-bound; All that her husband list, her liketh 30 well; Well may his heart in joy and bliss abound. She saith not ones Nay, when he saith Yea; For who can be so buxom 7 as a wife? "Do this," saith he; "All ready, Sir," saith she. Who is so true, and eke so attentive O blissful order, wedlock preciois! To keep 8 him, sick and whole, as is his make? 9 Thou art so merry, and eke so virtuous, For weal or woe she will him not forsake: And so commended and approved eke, She is not weary him to love and serve, That every man that holds him worth a leek Though that he lie bedrid until he sterve.l~ Upon his bare knees ought all his life And yet some clerkes say it is not so; To thank his God, that him hath sent a wife; Of which he, Theophrast, is one of tho:11 Or elles pray to God him for to send What force 12 though Theophrast list for to lie? A wife, to last unto his life's end. "TakB no wife," quoth he, " for husbandry,l3 For then his life is set in sickerness,31 As for to spare in household thy dispence; He may not be deceived, as I guess, A true servant doth more diligence So that he work after his wife's rede; 32 Thy good to keep, than doth thine owen wife, Then may he boldely bear up his head, For she will claim a half part all her life. They be so true, and therewithal so wise. And if that thou be sick, so God me save, For which, if thou wilt worken as the wise, Thy very friendes, or a true knave,14 Do alway so as women will thee rede.32 Will keep thee bet 15 than she, that waiteth aye Lo how that Jacob, as these clerkes read, After 6 thy good, and hath done many a day." By good-counsel of his mother Rebecc' This sentence, and a hundred times worse, Bounde the kidde's skin about his neck; Writeth this man, there God his bones curse. For which his father's benison 33 he wan. But take no keep17 of all such vanity, Lo Judith, as the story telle can, Defy 18 The6phrast, and hearkeri to me. By good counsel she Godde's people kept, A wife is Godde's gifte verily; And slew him, Holofernes, while he slept. All other manner giftes hardily,l9 Lo Abigail, by good counsel, how she As landBs, rentes, pasture, or commune,20 Saved her husband Nabal, when that he Or mebles,21 all be giftes of fortfine, Should have been slain. And lo, Esther also True. 2 Especially. 14 Servant. 15 Better. 3 Mirth, delight. 4 Becomes, befits. 16 Waits on, longs to have. 17 Heed, notice. 5 Think that there is security. 18 Distrust. 19 Truly. 20 Common land. 6 Check, control. 7 Obedient. 21 Movables, furniture, &c.; French, "meubles." 8 Care for, attend to. 9 Mate. 22 Doubt. 23 Perhaps. 24 Ruined. 10 Die. 11 Those. 12 What matter. 25 Who are not of the clergy. 26 Prove. 13 Thrift. This and the next eight lines are taken 27 Obedient, complying. 28 Labour. from. the "Liber aureolus Theophrasti de nuptiis," 29 Whit. 30 Pleaseth. quoted by Hieronymus, "Contra Jovinianum," and 31 Security. 32 counsel, thence again by John of Salisbury. 33 1Benedictiou, I06 THE CANTERBUR Y TALES. By counsel good deliver'd out of woe Woman of many schooles half a clerk is. The people of God, and made him, Mardoche, But certainly a young thing men may guy,l9 Of Assuere enhanced1 for to be. Right as men may warm wax with handes There is nothing in gree superlative2 ply.20 (As saith Senec) above a humble wife. Wherefore I say you plainly in a clause, Suffer thy wife's tongue, as Cato bit; 3 I will none old wife have, right for this cause. She shall command, and thou shalt suffer it, For if so were I hadde such mischance, And yet she will obey of courtesy. That I in her could have no pleasance, A wife is keeper of thine husbandry: Then should I lead my life in avoutrie,21 Well may the sicke man bewail and weep, And go straight to the devil when I die. There as there is no wife the' house to keep. NTor children should I none upon her getten: I warne thee, if wisely thou wilt wirch,4 Yet were me lever 22 houndes.,had me eaten Love well thy wife, as Christ loveth his church: Than that mine heritag shoulde fall Thou lov'st thyself, if thou lovest thy wife. In strange hands: and this I tell you all. No man hateth his flesh, but in his life I doubte not I know the cause why He fost'reth it; and therefore bid I thee Men shoulde wed: and farthermore know I Cherish thy wife, or thou shalt never the.5 There speaketh many a man.of marriage Husband and wife, what so men jape or play,6 That knows no more of it than doth my page, Of worldly folk holde the sicker7 way; For what causes a man should take a wife. They be so knit, there may no harm betide, If he he may not live chaste his life, And namely 8 upon the wife's side. Take him a wife with great devoti6n, For which this January, of whom I told, Because of lawful procreati6n Consider'd hath, within his dayes old, Of children, to th' honofr of God above, The lusty life, the virtuous quiet, And not only for paramour or love; That is in marriage honey-sweet. And for they shoulde lechery eschew, And for his friends upon a day he sent And yield their debte when that it is due: To tell them the effect of his intent. Or for tlat each of them should help the other With face sad,9 his tale he hath them told: In mischief,23 as a sister shall the brother, He saide, " Friendes, I am hoar and old, And live in chastity full holily. And almost (God wot) on my pitte's 10 brink, But, Sires, by your leave, that am not I, Upon my soule somewhat must I think. For, God be thanked, I dare make avaunt,24 I have my body foolishly dispended,I feel my limbes stark 5 and suffisant Blessed be God that it shall be amended; To do all that a man belongeth to: For I will be certain a wedded man, I wot myselfe best what I may do. And that anon in all the haste I can, Though I be hoar, I fare as doth a tree, Unto some maiden, fair and tender of age; That blossoms ere the fruit y-waxen26 be; I pray you shape 11 for my marri/age The blossomy tree is neither dry nor dead; All suddenly, for I will not abide: I feel me nowhere hoar but on my head. And I will fond12 to espy, on my side, Mine heart and all my limbes are as green To whom I may be wedded hastily. As laurel through the year is for to seen.27 But forasmuch as ye be more than I, And, since that ye have heard all mine intent, Ye shalle rather 13 such a thing espy I pray you to my will ye would assent." Than I, and where me best were to ally. Diverse men diversely him told But one thing warn I you, my friendies dear, Of marriage many examples old; I will none old wife have in no mann6re: Some blamed it, some praised it, certain; She shall not passe sixteen year certain. But at the laste, shortly for to sayn Old fish and younge flesh would I have fain. (As all day 28 falleth altercation Better," quoth he, " a pike than a pickerel,l4 Betwixte friends in disputati6n), And better than old beef is tender veal. There fell a strife betwixt his brethren two, I will no woman thirty year of age, Of which that one was called Placebo, It is but beanestraw and great forage. Justinus soothly called was that other. And eke these oldi widows (God it wot) Placebo said; " O January, brother, They conne 15 so much craft on Wade's boat,16 Full little need have ye, my lord so dear, So muche brooke harm 17 when that them lest,l8 Counsel to ask of any that is here: That with them should I never live in rest. But that ye be so full of sapience, For sundry schoolis make subtle clerkes; That you not liketh, for your high prudence, 1 Advanced in dignity. but Mr Wright seems to be warranted in supposing 2 To be esteemed in the highest degree. that Wade's adventures were cited as examples of craft 3 Bade. 4 Work. 5 Thrive. and cunning-that the hero, in fact, was a kind of 6 Let men jest and laugh as they will. Northern Ulysses. It is possible that to the same 7 Sure. 8 Especially. 9 Grave, earnest, source we may trace the proverbial phrase, found in 10 Grave's. 11 Arrange, contrive. 12 Try. Chaucer's " Remedy of Love," to " bear Watti's pack" 13 Sooner. 14 Young pike. 15 Know. -signifying to be duped or beguiled. 16 "Wade's boat" was called Guingelot; and in it, 17 So much mischief can they perform, employ. according to the old romance, the owner underwent a 18 Pleases. 19 Guide. 20 Bend, mould. long series of wild adventures, and performed many 21 Adultery. 22 I would rather. 23 Trouble. strange exploits. The romance is lost, and therefore 24 Boast. 25 Strong. 26 Grown. the exact force of the phrase in the text is uncertain; 27 See. 28 Constantly, every day. THE MERCHANT'S TALE. 107 To waive 1 from the word of Solomon. More goode thewes 15 than her vices bad: This word said he unto us every one; And all this asketh leisure to inquere. Work all thing by counsel,-thus said he,- For, God it wot, I have wept many a tear And thenne shalt thou not repente thee. Full privily, since I have had a wife. But though that Solomon spake such a word, Praise whoso will a wedded manne's life, Mine owen deare brother and my lord, Certes, I find in it but cost and care, So wisly 2 God my soule bring at rest, And observances of all blisses bare. I hold your owen counsel is the best. And yet, God wot, my neighebours about, For, brother mine, take of me this motive; 3 And namely 16 of women many a rout,l7 I have now been a court-man all my life, Say that I have the most6 steadfast wife, And, God it wot, though I unworthy be, And'eke the meekest one, that beareth life. I havi standen in full great degree But I know best where wringeth 18 me my shoe. Aboute lordis of full high estate; Ye may for me right as you likB do. Yet had I ne'er with none of them debate; Advise you, ye be a man of age, I never them contraried truily. How that ye enter into marriage; I know well that my lord can 4 more than I; And namely 1 with a young wife and a fair. What that he saith, I hold it firm and stable, By him that made water, fire, earth, air, I say the same, or else a thing semblable. The youngest man that is in all this rout 17 A full great fool is any counsellor Is busy enough to bringen it about That serveth any lord of high honour, To have his wife alone, truste me: That dare presume, or ones thinken it, Ye shall not please her fully yeares three, That his counsel should pass his lorde's wit. This is to say, to do her full pleasance. Nay, lordis be no fooles, by my fay. A wife asketh full many an observance. Ye have yourselfe shewed here to-day I pray you that ye be not evil apaid." 19 So high sentence,5 so holily and well, " Well," quoth this January, " and hast thou That I consent, and c6nfirm every deal 6 said? Your wordes all, and your opiniodn. Straw for thy Senec, and for thy proverbs, By God, there is no man in all this town I counti not a pannier full of herbs Nor in Itale, could better have y-said: Of schoole termes; wiser men than thou, Christ holds him of this counsel well apaid.7 As thou hast heard, assented here right now And truely it is a high courage To my purpose: Placebo, what say ye?" Of any man that stopen is in age, "I say it is a cursed 20 man," quoth he, To take a young wife, by my father's kin; "That letteth21 matrimony, sickerly." Your hearte hangeth on a jolly pin. And with that word they rise up suddenly, Do now in this matter right as you lest, And be assented fully, that he should For finally I hold it for the best." Be wedded when him list, and where he would. Justinus, that aye stilli sat and heard, High fantasy and curious business Right in this wise to Placebo answer'd. From day to day gan in the soul impress 22 " Now, brother mine, be patient I pray, Of January about his marriage. Since ye have said, and hearken what I say. Many a fair shape, and many a fair visfge Senec, among his other wordes wise, There passed through his hearte night by night. Saith, that a man ought him right well advise,9 As whoso took a mirror polish'd bright, To whom he gives his land or his chattel. And set it in a common market-place, And since I ought advise me right well Then should he see many a figure pace To whom I give my good away from me, By his mirr6r; and in the same wise Well more I ought advise me, pardie, Gan January in his thought devise To whom I give my body: for alway Of maidens, which that dwelte him beside: I warn you well it is no childe's play He wiste not where that he might abide."3 To take a wife without advisement. For if that one had beauty in her face, Men must inquire (this is mine assent) Another stood so in the people's grace Whe'er she be wise, or sober, or dronkelew,l0 For her sadness24 and her benignity, Or proud, or any other ways a shrew, That of the people greatest voice had she: A chidester,l or a waster of thy good, And some were rich and had a badde name. Or rich or poor; or else a man is wood. 2 But natheless, betwixt earnest and game, Albeit so, that no man finde shall He at the last appointed him on one, None in this world, that trotteth whole in all, 3 And let all others from his hearte gon, Nor man, nor beast, such as men can devise,l4 And chose her of his own authority; But natheless it ought enough suffice For love is blind all day, and may not see. With any wife, if so were that she had And when that he was into bed y-brought, I Depart, deviate. 2 Surely. 10 Given to drink. 11 A scold. 3 Advice, encouragement. 4 Knows. 12 Mad. 13 Sound in every point. 5 Judgment, sentiment. 14 Describe, tell. 15 Qualities. 16 Especially. 6 In every point. 7 Satisfied. 17 Company. 18 Pinches. 19 Displeased. 8 Advanced; past participle of "step." Elsewhere 20 Ill-natured, wicked. 21 Hindereth. " y-stept in age" is used by Chaucer. 22 Imprint themselves. 23 Stay, fix his ohoice. 9 Consider. 24 Sedateness. 0oS THE CANTERBURY TALES. He poirtray'd in his heart and in his thought And, for he would his longe tale abridge, Her freshe beauty, and her age tender, He would6 no authority 17 allege, Her middle small, her armes long and slender, But saidie; "Sir, so there be none obstacle Her wise governance, her gentleness, Other than this, God of his high miracle, Her womanly bearing, and her sadn6ss.l And of his mercy, may so for you wirch,18 And when that he on her was condescended,2 That, ere ye have your rights of holy church, He thought his choice might not be amended; Ye may repent of wedded manne's life, For when that he himself concluded had, In which ye say there is no woe nor strife: He thought each other manne's wit so bad, And elles God forbid, but if 19 he sent That impossible it were to reply A wedded man his grace him to repent Against his choice; this was his fantasy. Well often, rather than a single man. His friendes sent he to, at his instance, And therefore, Sir, the beste rede I can,0 And prayed them to do him that pleasance, Despair you not, but have in your mem6ry, That hastily they would unto him come; Paraventure she may be your purgat6ry; He would abridge their labour all and some: She may be Godde's means, and Godde's whip; Needed no more for them to go nor ride,3 And then your soul shall up to heaven skip He was appointed where he would abide.4 Swifter than doth an arrow from a bow. Placebo came, and eke his friendes soon, I hope to God hereafter ye shall know And alderfirst 5 he bade them all a boon,6 That there is none so great felicity That none of them no arguments would make In marriage, nor ever more shall be, Against the purpose that he had y-take: That you shall let 21 of your salvation; Which purpose was pleasant to God, said he, So that ye use, as skill is and reas6n, And very ground of his prosperity. The lustes 22 of your wife attemperly,2 He said, there was a maiden in the town, And that ye please her not too amorously, Which that of beauty hadde great renown; And that ye keep you eke from other sin. All7 were it so she were of small degree, My tale is done, for my wit is but thin. Sufficed him her youth and her beauty; Be not aghast 12 hereof, my brother dear, Which maid, he said, he would have to his wife, But let us waden out of this mattdre. To lead in ease and holiness his life; The Wife of Bath, if ye have understand, And thanked God, that he might have her all, Of marriage, which ye have now in hand, That no wight with his blisse parte 8 shall; Declared hath full well in little space; And prayed them to labour in this need, Fare ye now well, God have you in his grace." And shape that he faile not to speed: Andwith this word this Justin'and his.brother For then, he said, his spirit was at ease. Have ta'entheir leave, and each of them of other. "Then is," quoth he, "nothing may me dis- And when they saw that it must needes be, please, They wroughte so, by sleight and wise treaty, Save one thing pricketh in my conscience, That she, this maiden, which that Maius hight,~4 The which I will rehearse in your presence. As hastily as ever that she might, I have," quoth he, " heard said, full yore 9 ago, Shall wedded be unto this January. There may no man have perfect blisses two, I trow it were too longe you to tarry, This is to say, on earth and eke in heaven. If I told you of every script and band 2" For though he keep him from the sinnes seven, By which she was feoffed in his land; And eke from every branch of thilke tree,l" Or for to reckon of her rich array. Yet is there so perfect felicity, But finally y-comen is the day And so great ease and lust," in marriage, That to the churche bothe be they went, That ev'r I am aghast,12 now in mine age For to receive the holy sacrament. That I shall lead now so merry a life, Forth came the priest, with stole about his neck, So delicate, withoute woe or strife, And bade her be like Sarah and Rebecc' That I shall have mine heav'n Qn earthe here. In wisdom and in truth of marriage; For since that very heav'n is bought so dear, And said his orisons, as is usage, With tribulati6n anrd great penance, And crouched 26 them, and bade 27 God should How should I then, living in such pleasance them bless, As alld wedded men do with their wives, And made all sicker 28 enough with holiness. Come to the bliss where Christ etern on Thus be they wedded with solemnity; live is? " And at the feasti sat both he and she, This is my dread; 14 and ye, my brethren tway, With other worthy folk, upon the dais. Assoil 15 me this question, I you pray." All full of joy and bliss is the palace, Justinus, which that hated his folly, And full of instruments, and of vitaille, Answ6d'd anon right in his japery; 16 The moste dainteous 29 of all Itale. 1 Sedateness. 2 Had selected her. 14 Doubt. 15 Resolve, answer. 3 In quest of a wife for him, as they had promised. 16 Mockery, jesting way. 17 Written texts. 4 He had definitively made his choice. 18 Work. 19 Jnless. 5 First of all. G Asked a favour, made a request. 20 This is the best counsel that I know. 7 Although. 8 Have a share. 9 Long. 21 Hinder. 22 Pleasures. 23 Moderately. 1o That tree of original sin, of which the special sins 24 Was named, 25 Writing and bond. are the branches. 11 Comfort and pleasure. 26 Crossed. 27 Prayed that. 12 Alarmed, afraid. 13 Lives eternally. 28 Secure. 29 Delicate. Tfif MR CtANP'S PTALi t Before them stood such instruments of soun', And spices all about the house they cast, That Orpheus, nor of Thebes Amphiofn, And full of joy and bliss is every man, Ne made never such a melody. All but a squire, that highte Damian, At every course came in loud minstrelsy, Who carv'd before the knight full many a day; That never Joab trumped for to hear, He was so ravish'd on his lady May, Nor he, Theodomas, yet half so clear That for the very pain he was nigh wood; 8 At Thebes, when the city was in doubt. Almost he swelt 9 and swooned where he stood, Bacchus the wine them skinked 1 all about. So sore had Venus hurt him with her brand, And Venus laughed upon every wight As that she bare it dancing in her hand.' (For January was become her knight, And to his bed he went him hastily; And woulde both assaye his courage No more of him as at this time speak I; In liberty, and eke in marriage), But there I let him weep enough and plain,0 And with her firebrand in her hand about Till freshe May will rue upon his pain. Danced before the bride and all the rout. O perilous fire, that in the bedstraw breedeth! And certainly I dare right well say this, O foe familiar,l that his service bedeth!12 Hymdneus, that god of wedding is, O servant traitor, O false homely hewe,13 Saw never his life so merry a wedded man. Like to the adder in bosom sly untrue, Hold thou thy peace, thou poet Marcian,2 God shield us alld from your acquaintance! That writest us that ilke 3 wedding merry O January, drunken in pleasance Of her Philology and him Mercury, Of marriage, see how thy Damian, And of the songes that the Muses sung; Thine owen squier and thy boren 14 man,' Too small is both thy pen, and eke thy tongue, Intendeth for to do thee villainy:15 For to describen of this marriage. God grante thee thine homely foe 16 t' espy. When tender youth hath wedded stooping age, For in this world is no worse pestilence There is such mirth that it may not be writ; Than homely foe, all day in thy presence. Assay it youreself, then may ye wit4 Performed hath the sun his arc diurn,'7 If that I lie or no in this mattere. No longer may the body of him sojourn Maius, that sat with soIbenign a cheer,5 On the horizon, in that latitude: Her to behold it seemed faerie; Night with his mantle, that is dark and rude, Queen Esther never look'd with such an eye Gan overspread the hemisphere about: On Assuere, so meek a look had she; For which departed is this lusty rout 8 I may you not devise all her beauty; From January, with thank on every side. But thus much of her beauty tell I may, Home to their houses lustily they ride, That she was like the bright morrow of May Where as they do their thinges as them lest, Full filled of all beauty and pleasance. And when they see their time they go to rest. This January is ravish'd in a trance, Soon after that this hasty 19 January At every time he looked in her face; Will go to bed, he will no longer tarry. But in his heart he gan her to menace, He dranke hippocras, clarre,20 and vernage 21 That he that night in armiSs would her strain Of spices hot, to increase his courage; Harder than ever Paris did Helene. And many a lectuary had he full fine, But natheless yet had he great pity Such as the cursed monk Dan Constantine22 That thilke night offendi her must he, Hath written in his book de Coitu; And thought, " Alas, O tender creatire, To eat them all he would nothing eschew: Now woulde God ye mighte well endure And to his privy friendes thus said he: All my courage, it is so sharp and keen; "For Godde's love, as soon as it may be, I am aghast 6 ye shall it not sustene. Let voiden all this house in courteous wise." But God forbid that I did all my might. And they have done right as he will devise. Now wouldB God that it were waxen night, Men drinken, and the travers 23 draw anon; And that the night would lasten evermo'. The bride is brought to bed as still as stone; I would that all this people were y-go." 7 And when thd bed was with the priest y-bless'd, And finally he did all his labonr, Out of the chamber every wight him dress'd, As he best mighte, saving his honour, And January hath fast in arms y-take To haste them from the meat in subtle wise,: His freshe May, his paradise, his make.24 The timi came that reason was to rise;' He lulled her, he kissed her full oft; And after that men dance, and drinke fast, With thicki bristles of his beard unsoft, 1 Poured out; from Anglo-Saxon, "scencan." Wright has properly restored the reading adopted in 2 Marcianus Capella, who wrote a kind of philoso- the text. phical romance, " De Nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae." 14 Born; owing to January faith and loyalty because' Her" and "him," two lines after, like "he" applied born in his household. 15 Dishonour, outrage. to Theodomas, are prefixed to the proper names for 16 Enemy in the household. emphasis, according to the Anglo-Saxon usage. 17 Diurnal. 18 Pleasant company. 3 That same, that. 4 Know. 19 Eager.. 20 Spiced wine. 5 Countenance. 6 Afraid. 7 Gone away. 21 A wine believed to have come from Crete, although 8 Mad. 9 Fainted. 10 Bewail. its name-Italian, " Vernaccia "-seems to'be derived 11 Domestic; belonging to the "familia," or house- from Verona. hold. 12 Offers. 22 A medical author who wrote about 1080; his works 13 Domestic servant; from Anglo-Saxon, "hiwa." were printed at Basle in 1536. 23 Curtains. Tyrwhitt reads," false of holy hue;" but Mr 24 Mate, consort. to THE CANT1ERBUR Y'TALES. Like to the skin of houndfish,1 sharp as brere 2 Unto his faire freshe lady May. (For he was shav'n all new in his mann6re), And in a purse of silk, hung on his shirt, He rubbed her upon her tender face, He hath it put, and laid it at his heart. And saidB thus; " Alas! I must trespace The moone, that at noon was thilke 9 day To you, my spouse, and you greatly offend, That January had wedded freshi May, Ere time come that I will down descend. In ten of Taure, was into Cancer glided; 10 But natheless consider this," quoth he, So long had Mains in her chamber abided, "There is no workman, whatsoe'er he be, As custom is unto these nobles all. That may both worke well and hastily: A bridi shall not eaten in the hall This will be done at leisure perfectly. Till dayes four, or three days at the least, It is no force 3 how longB that we play; Y-passed be; then let her go to feast. In true wedlock coupled be we tway; The fourthe day complete from noon to noon, And blessed be the yoke that we be in, When that the highe masse was y-done, For in our actis may there be no sin. In halle sat this January, and May, A man may do no sinne with his wife, As fresh as is the brighte summer's day. Nor hurt himselfe with his owen knife; And so befell, how that this goode man For we have leave to play us by the law." Remember'd him upon this Damian. Thus labour'd he, till that the day gan daw, And saide; "Saint Mary, how may this be, And then he took a sop in fine clarr, That Damian attendeth not to me? And upright in his bedde then sat he. Is he aye sick? or how may this betide?" And after that he sang full loud and clear, His squiers, which that stoode there beside, And kiss'd his wife, and made wanton cheer. Excused him, because of his sickness, He was all coltish, full of ragerie 4 Which letted 1 him to do his business: And full of jargon as a flecked pie. None other cause mighte make him tarry. The slacke skin about his necke shaked, "That me forthinketh," 2 quoth this January; While that he sang, so chanted he and craked.5 " He is a gentle squier, by my truth; But God wot what that May thought in her If that he died, it were great harm and ruth. heart, He is as wise, as discreet, and secre,13 When she him saw up sitting in his shirt As any man I know of his degree, In his night-cap, and with his necke lean: And thereto manly and eke serviceable, She praised not his playing worth a bean. And for to be a thrifty man right able. Then said he thus; " My reste will I take But after meat, as soon as ever I may Now day is come, I may no longer wake; I will myself visit him, and eke May, And down he laid his head and slept till prime. To do him all the comfort that I can." And afterward, when that he saw his time, And for that word him blessed every man, Up rose January, but freshe May That of his bounty and his gentleness Helde her chamber till the fourthe day, He woulde so comf6rten in sickness As usage is of wivis for the best. His squier, for it was a gentle deed. For every labour some time must have rest, "Dame," quoth this January, " take good Or elles longe may he not endure; heed This is to say, no life of creature, At after meat, ye with your women all Be it of fish, or bird, or beast, or man. (When that ye be in chamb'r out of this hall), Now will I speak of woeful Damian, That all ye go to see this Damian: That languisheth for love, as ye shall hear; Do him disport, he is a gentle man; Therefore I speak to him in this mannere. And telle him that I will him visite, I say; "0 silly Damian, alas! Have I nothing but rested me a lite:14 Answer to this demand, as in this case, And speed you faste, for I will abide How shalt thou to thy lady, freshe May, Till that ye sleepe faste by my side." Telle thy woe? She will alway say nay; And with that word he gan unto him call Eke if thou speak, she will thy woe bewray; A squier, that was marshal of his hall, God be thine help, I can no better say. And told him certain thinges that he wo'ld. This sicke Damian in Venus' fire This freshe May hath straight her way y-hold, So burned that he died for desire; With all her women, unto Damian. - For which he put his life in fventure,7 Down by his bedde's side sat she than,15 No longer might he in this wise endure; Comf6rting him as goodly as she may. But privily a penner 8 gan he borrow, This Damian, when that his time he say,l6 And in a letter wrote he all his sorrow, In secret wise his purse, and eke his bill, In manner of a c6mplaint or a lay, In which that he y-written had his will, 1 Dogfish. 2 Briar. days that Maius spent in her chamber could not have 3 No matter. 4 Wantonness. advanced more than fifty-three degrees, would only 5 Quavered in his singing. have been at the twenty-fifth degree of Gemini6 Discover, betray. 7 Risk. whereas, by reading " ten," she is brought to the third 8 Writing-case, carried about by clerks or scholars. degree of Cancer. 9 That. t1 Hindered. 12 Grieves, causes uneasiness, l' Nearly all the manuscripts read "in two of Taure;" 13 Secret, trusty. but Tyrwhitt has shown that, setting out from the second 14 When only I have rested me a little. degree of Taurus, the moon, which in the four complete 15 Then. 16 Saw. THE MCERCHRANT'S TAL E; ilt Hath put into her hand withoute more, This gentle May, full filled of pity, Save that he sighed wondrous deep and sore, Right of her hand a letter maked she, And softely to her right thus said he: In which she granted him her very grace; "Mercy, and that ye not discover me: There lacked nought, but only day and place, For I am dead if that this thing be kid." Where that she might unto his lust suffice: The purse hath she in her bosom hid, For it shall be right as he will devise. And went her way; ye get no more of me; And when she saw her time upon a day But unto January come is she, To visit this Damian went this May, That on his bedde's side sat full soft. And subtilly this letter down she thrust He took her, and he kissed her full oft, Under his pillow, read it if him lust. And laid him down to sleep, and that anon. She took him by the hand, and hard him twist' She feigned her as that she muste gon So secretly, that no wight of it wist, There as ye know that every wight must need; And bade him be all whole; and forth she went And when she of this bill had taken heed, To January, when he for her sent. She rent it all to cloutes 2 at the last, Up rose Damian the nexte morrow, And in the privy softely it cast. All passed was his sickness and his sorrow. Who studieth 3 now but faire freshe May? He combed him, he proined 1 him and picked, Adown by olde January she lay, He did all that unto his lady liked; That slepte, till the cough had him awaked: And eke to January he went as low Anon he pray'd her strippe her all naked, As ever did a dogge for the bow.12 He would of her, he said, have some pleasance; He is so pleasant unto every man And said her clothes did him incumbrance. (For craft is all, whoso that do it can), And she obey'd him, be her lefe or loth.4 That every wight is fain to speak him good; But, lest that precious 5 folk be with me wroth, And fully in his lady's grace he stood. How that he wrought I dare not to you tell, Thus leave I Damian about his need, Or whether she thought it paradise or hell; And in my tale forth I will proceed. But there I let them worken in their wise Some clerkes 13 holde that felicity Till even-song ring, and they must arise. Stands in delight; and therefore certain he, Were it by destiny, or aventure, This noble January, with all his might Were it by influence, or by nature, In honest wise as longeth to a knight, Or constellation, that in such estate Shope 14 him to liv8 full deliciously: The heaven stood at that time fortunate His housing, his array, as honestly 1 As for to put a bill of Venus' works To his degree was maked as a king's. (For alle thing hath time, as say these clerks), Amonges other of his honest things To any woman for to get her love, He had a garden walled all with stone; I cannot say; but greate God above, So fair a garden wot I nowhere none. That knoweth that none act is causeless, For out of doubt I verily suppose He deem 6 of all, for I will hold my peace. That he that wrote the Romance of the Rose 16 But sooth is this, how that this freshe May Could not of it the beauty well devise; 1 Hath taken such impression that day Nor Priapus 18 mighte not well suffice, Of pity on this sicke Damian, Though he be god of gardens, for to tell That from her hearte she not drive can The beauty of the garden, and the well 19 The remembranci for to do him ease.7 That stood under a laurel always green. "Certain," thought she, " whom that this thing Full often time he, Pluto, and his queen displease Proserpina, and all their faerie, I reckh not, for here I him assure, Disported them and made melody To love him best of any creature, About that well, and danced, as men told. Though he no more haddi than his shirt." This noble knight, this January old, Lo, pity runneth soon in gentle heart. Such dainty 20 had in it to walk and play, Here may ye see, how excellent franchise 8 That he would suffer no wight to bear the key, In women is when they them narrow advise.' Save he himself, for of the small wicket Some tyrant is,-as there be many a one,- He bare always of silver a clik6t,2 That hath a heart as hard as any stone, With which, when that him list, he it unshet.22 Which would have let him sterven 10 in the place And when that he would pay his wife's debt, Well rather than have granted him her grace; In summer season, thither would he go, And then rejoicen in her cruel pride. And May his wife, and no wight but they two; And reckon not to be a homicide. And thinges which that were not done in bed, Or "kidde," past participle of "kythe" or 13 Writers, scholars. 14 Prepared, arranged. " kithe," to show or discover. 15 Honourably, suitably. 2 Fragments. 3 Is thoughtful. 16 Which opens with the description of a beautiful 4 Whether she were willing or reluctant. garden. 17 Tell, describe. 5 Precise, over-nice; French, " precieux," affected. 18 Son of Bacchus and Venus; he was regarded as the 6 Let him judge. 7 To satisfy his desire. promoter of fertility in all agricultural life, vegetable 8 Generosity. 9 Closely consider. io Die. and animal; while not only gardens, but fields, flocks, 11 Or "pruned;" carefully trimmed and dressed him- bees-and even fisheries-were supposed to be under self. The word is used in falconry of a hawk when she his protection. 19 Fountain. picks and trims her feathers. 20 Pleasure. 21 ey. 12 A dog attending a hunter with the bow. 22 Unshut, opened. | I' A THIE CANTERBURY TALES. He in the garden them perform'd and sped. As be deceived when a man may see. And in this wise many a merry day Lo, Argus, which that had a hundred eyen, Lived this January and fresh May, For all that ever he could pore or pryen, But worldly joy may not always endure Yet was he blent; 12 and, God wot, so be mo', To January, nor to no creatfre. That weene wisly 13 that it be not so: O sudden hap! O thou fortfine unstable! Pass over is an ease, I say no more. Like to the scorpi6n so deceivAble,1 This freshe May, of which I spake yore, That fiatt'rest with thy head when thou wilt In warm wax hath imprinted the clik6t 14 sting; That January bare of the small wicket Thy tail is death, through thine envenoming. By which into his garden oft he went; O brittle joy! O sweete poison quaint! 2 And Damian, that knew all her intent, O monster, that so subtilly canst paint The cliket counterfeited privily; Thy giftes, under hue of steadfastness, There is no more to say, but hastily That thou deceivest bothe more and less!3 Some wonder by this cliket shall betide, Why hast thou January thus deceiv'd, Which ye shall hearen, if ye will abide. That haddest him for thy full friend receiv'd? O noble Ovid, sooth say'st thou, God wot, And now thou hast bereft him both his eyen, What sleight is it, if love be long and hot, For sorrow of which desireth he to dien. That he'll not find it out in some mann6re? Alas! this noble January free, By Pyramus and Thisbe may men lear; 15 Amid his lust 4 and his prosperity Thoughtheywere kept fulllong and strait o'er all, Is waxen blind, and that all suddenly. They be accorded,l6 rowningl7 through a wall, He weeped and he wailed piteously; Where no wight could have found out such a And therewithal the fire of jealousy sleight. (Lest that his wife should fall in some folly) But now to purpose; ere that dayes eight So burnt his hearth, that he wouldi fain, Were passed of the month of July, fill 8 That some man bothe him and her had slain; That January caught so great a will, For neither after his death, nor in his life, Through egging 19 of his wife, him for to play Ne would he that she were no love nor wife, In his gard4n, and no wight but they tway, But ever live as widow in clothis black, That in a morning to this May said he: Sole as the turtle that hath lost her make.5 "Rise up, my wife, my love, my lady free; But at the last, after a month or tway, The turtle's voice is heard, mine owen sweet; His sorrow gan assuage, sooth to say. The winter is gone, with all his raines weet.'0 For, when he wist it might none other be, Come forth now with thine eyen columbine." He patiently took his adversity: Well fairer be thy breasts than any wine. Save out of doubte he may not foregon The garden is enclosed all about; That he was jealous evermore-in-one: 6 Come forth, my white spouse; for, out of doubt, Which jealousy was so outrageoufs, Thou hast me wounded in mine heart, O wife: That neither in hall, nor in none other house, No spot in thee was e'er in all thy life. Nor in none other place never the mo' Come forth, and let us taken our disport; He woulde suffer her to ride or go, I choose thee for my wife and my comf6rt." But if 7 that he had hand on her alway. Such olde lewed wordes used he. For which full often wepte freshe May, On Damian a signe made she, That loved Damian so burningly That he should go before with his cliket. That she must either dien suddenly, This Damian then hath opened the wicket, Or elles she must have him as her lest: 8 And in he start, and that in such mann6re She waited 9 when her hearte woulde brest.l0 That no wight might him either see or hear; Upon that other side Damian And still he sat under a bush. Anon Becomen is the sorrowfullest man This January, as blind as is a stone, That ever was; for neither night nor day With Maius in his hand, and no wight mo', He mighte speak a word to freshe May, Into this freshe garden is y-go, As to his purpose, of no such mattere, And clapped to the wicket suddenly. But if 7 that January must it hear, " Now, wife," quoth he, "here is but thou and I; That had a hand upon her evermo'. Thou art the creature that I beste love: But natheless, by writing to and fro, For, by that Lord that sits in heav'n above, And privy signes, wist he what she meant, Lever 22 I had to dien on a knife, And she knew eke the fine 1 of his intent. Than thee offende, deare true wife. O January, what might it thee avail, For Godde's sakS, think how I thee chees,23 Though thou might see as far as shippis sail? Not for no covetise 24 doubteless, For as good is it blind deceiv'd to be, But only for the love I had to thee. 1 Deceitful. 2 Strange. 14 Taken an impression of the key. 3 Both great and small. 15 Learn. 4 Pleasure. 5 Mate. 16 They exchanged the assurances of their love; came 6 He could not cease to be jealous continually. to an agreement. 17 Whispering. 7 Unless. 8 Pleased. 9 Expected. is It befell, it happened. 19 Inciting. 10 Burst. 11 End, aim. 20 Wet. See Song of Solomon, chap. ii. 12 Deceived; by Mercury, see note 5, page 31. 21 Dove's eyes. 22 Rather. 13 Think confidently, 23 Chose. 24 Covetousness. UIV-C~~~~~U —~~~O-~~~~~~~,e uscu~~~~~w~~-unrr~~~~rw~~~ ~~~,,ui,~~~~~ _~~U~~ l~~i~~;~~; ~ ~ l~~~:L~~;~~i-r -rr~~~~~~ylS~~~plK~~~ILII. -- -~~~~p THE MERCHANT'S TAL E. 113 And though that I be old, and may not see, That in the garden, on the farther side, Be to me true, and I will tell you why. Pluto, that is the king of Faerie, Certes three thinges shall ye win thereby: And many a lady in his company First, love of Christ, and to yourself honofir, Following his wife, the queen Proserpina,And all mine heritage, town and tow'r. Which that he ravished out of Ethna,l0 I give it you, make charters as you lest; While that she gather'd flowers in the mead This shall be done to-morrow ere sun rest, (In Claudian ye may the story read, So wisly God my soule bring to bliss! How in his grisly chariot he her fet 1),I pray you, on this covenant me kiss. This king of Faerie adown him set And though that I be jealous, wite2 me not; Upon a bank of turfes fresh and green, Ye be so deep imprinted in my thought, And right anon thus said he to his queen. That when that I consider your beauty, "My wife," quoth he, " there may no wight And therewithal th' unlikely3 eld of me, say nay,12I may not, certes, though I shoulde die, Experience so proves it every day,Forbear to be out of your company, The treason which that woman doth to man. For very love; this is withoute doubt: Ten hundred thousand stories tell I can Now kiss me, wife, and let us roam about." Not6ble of your untruth and brittleness.s This freshe May, when she these wordes 0 Solomon, richest of all richess, heard, Full fill'd of sapience and worldly glory, Benignely to January answer'd; Full worthy be thy wordes of mem6ry But first and forward she began to weep: To every wight that wit and reason can.14 "I haye," quoth she, " a souli for to keep Thus praised he yet the bount 15 of man: As well as ye, and also mine honofir,'Among a thousand men yet found I one, And of my wifehood thilke tender flow'r But of all women found I never none.' 16 Which that I have assured in your hond, Thus said this king, that knew your wickedWhen.that the priest to you my body bond: ness; Wherefore I will answer in this mann6re, And Jesus, Filius Sirach,7 as I guess, With leave of you, mine owen lord so dear. He spake of you but seldom reverence. I pray to God, that never dawn the day A wild8 fire and c6rrupt pestilence That I ne sterve,4 as foul as woman may, So fall upon your bodies yet to-night! If e'er I do unto my kin that shame, Ne see ye not this honourable knight? Or ellis I impaire so my name, Because, alas! that he is blind and old, That I be false; and if I do that lack, His owen man shall maki him cuck6ld. Do5 strippe me, and put me in a sack, Lo, where he sits, the lechour, in the tree. And in the nexti river do 5 me drench: 6 Now will I granten, of my majesty, I am a gentle woman, and no wench. Unto this olde blinde worthy knight, Why speak ye thus? but men be e'er untrue, That he shall have again his eyen sight, And women have reproof of you aye new. When that his wife will do him villainy; Ye know none other dalliance, I believe, Then shall he knowen all her harlotry, But speak to us of untrust and repreve." 7 Both in reproof of her and other mo'." And with that word she saw where Damian " Yea, Sir," quoth Proserpine, "and will ye so? Sat in the bush, and coughe she began; Now by my mother Ceres' soul I swear And with her finger signe made she, That I shall give her suffisant answer, That Damian should climb upon a tree And alle women after, for her sake; That charged was with fruit; and up he went: That though they be in any guilt y-take, For verily he knew all her intent, With face bold they shall themselves excuse, And every signe that she coulde make, And bear them down that wouldi them accuse. Better than January her own make.8 For lack of answer, none of them shall dien. For in a letter she had told him all All 8 had ye seen a thing with both your eyen, Of this matter, how that he worke shall. Yet shall we visage it 19 so hardily, And thus I leave him sitting in the perry,9 And weep, and swear, and chide subtilly, And January and May roaming full merry. That ye shall be as lewed 20 as be geese. Bright was the day, and blue the firmament; What recketh me of your authorities? Phcebus of gold his streames down had sent I wot well that this Jew, this Solomon, To gladden every flow'r with his warmn6ss; Found of us women fool's many one: He was that time in Geminis, I guess, But though that he founde no good woman, But little from his declinati6n Yet there hath found many another man Of Cancer, Jove's exaltati6n. Women full good, and true, and virtuous; And so befell, in that bright morning-tide, Witness on them that dwelt in Christ6's house; 1 Surely. 2 Blame. 3 Dissimilar, incompatible. 11 Fetched. 12 Deny. i1 Inconstancy. 14 Knows. 4 Die not. 5 Cause. 6 Drown. 15 Goodness. 16 See Ecclesiastes vii. 28. 7 Reproof. 8 Mate. 9 Pear-tree. 17 Jesus, the son of Sirach, to whom is ascribed one of 10 " That fair field the books of the Apocrypha-that called the " Wisdom Of Enna, where Proserpine, gath'ring flowers, of Jesus the Son of Sirach, or Ecclesiasticus;" in which, Herself a fairer flow'r, by gloomy Dis especially in the ninth and twenty-fifth chapters, severe Was gather'd." cautions are given against women. 18 Although. -MILTON, Paradise Lost," iv. 268. 19 Confront it, face it out. 20 Ignorant, confounded. H 114 THE CANTERBURY TALES. With martyrdom they proved their constance, That she may dien, but 17 she of it have." The Roman gestes 1 mak6 remembrance "Alas!" quoth he, " that I had here a knave 18 Of many a very true wife also. That couldi climb; alas! alas! " quoth he, But, Sire, be not wroth, albeit so, "For I am blind." "Yea, Sir, no force," 19 Though that he said he found no good woman, quoth she; I pray you take the sentence2 of the man: "But would ye vouchesafe, for Godde's sake, He meant thus, that in sovereign bount6 3 The perry in your armes for to take Is none but God, no, neither he nor she.4 (For well I wot that ye mistruste me), Hey, for the very God that is but one, Then would I climbS well enough," quoth she, Why makB ye so much of Solomon? "So I my foot might set upon your back." What though he made a temple, Godde's house? " Certes," said he, "therein shall be no lack, What though he were rich and gloriofis? Might I you helpS with mine hearte's blood." So made he eke a temple of false goddes; He stooped down, and on his back she stood, How might he do a thing that more forbode 5 And caught her by a twist,20 and up she go'th. is? (Ladies, I pray you that ye be not wroth, * Pardie, as fair as ye his name emplaster,6 I cannot glose,21 I am a rude man): He was a lechour, and an idolaster,7 And suddenly anon this Damian And in his eld he very 8 God forsook. Gan pullen up the smock, and in he throng.22 And if that God had not (as saith the book) And when that Pluto saw this greatS wrong, Spared him for his father's sake, he should To January he gave again his sight, Have lost his regne 9 rather 10 than he would. And made him see as well as ever he might. I sette not, of 11 all the villainy And when he thus had caught his sight again, That he of women wrote, a butterfly. Was never man of anything so fain: I am a woman, needes must I speak, But on his wife his thought was evermo'. Or elles swell until mine heart5 break. Up to the tree he cast his eyen two, For since he said that we be jangleresses,'2 And saw how Damian his wife had dress'd, As ever may I brooke 13 whole my tresses, In such mannere, it may not be express'd, I shall not spare for no courtesy But if 23 I woulde speak uncourteously. To speak him harm, that said us villainy." And up he gave a roaring and a cry, "Dame," quoth this Pluto, " be no longer As doth the mother when the child shall die; wroth; "Out! help! alas! harow! " he gan to cry; I give it up: but, since I swore mine oath "0 stronge, lady, stowre! 24 what doest thou?" That I would grant to him his sight again, And she answered: "Sir, what aileth you? My word shall stand, that warn I you certain: Have patience and reason in your mind, I am a king, it sits14 me not to lie." I have you help'd on both your eyen blind. "And I," quoth she, " am queen of Faerie. On peril of my soul, I shall not lien, Her answer she shall have, I undertake, As me was taught to help6 with your eyen, Let us no morB wordes of it make. Was nothing better for to make you see, Forsooth, I will no longer you contrary." Than struggle with a man upon a tree: Now let us turn again to January, God wot, I did it in full good intent." That in the garden with his faird May "Struggle! " quoth he, "yea, algate in it Singeth well merrier than the popinjay:15 went. " You love I best, and shall, and other none." God give you both one shaml's death to dien! So long about the alleys is he gone, He swived thee; I saw it with mine eyen; Till he was comi to that ilk6 perry,6.. And ellis be I hanged by the halse." 25 Where as this Damian satt6 full merry "Then is," quoth she, " my medicine all false; On high, among the freshe leaves green. For certainly, if that ye mighte see, This freshe May, that is so bright and sheen, Ye would not say these word's unto me. Gan for to sigh, and said, "Alas my side! Ye have some glimpsing,26 and no perfect sight." Now, Sir," quoth she, "for aught that may "I see," quoth he, " as well as ever I might, betide, (Thanked be God!) with both mine eyen two, I must have of the pearis that I see, And by my faith me thought he did thee so." Or I must die, so sore longeth me " Ye maze, ye maze,27 goode Sir," quoth she; To eaten of the smalle peares green; "This thank have I for I have made you see: Help, for her love that is of heaven queen! Alas!" quoth she, "' that e'er I was so kind." I tell you well, a woman in my plight "Now, Dame," quoth he, "let all pass out of May have to fruit so great an appetite, mind; 1 Histories; such as those of Lucretia, Porcia, &c. several verses of a very coarse character had been in2 Opinion, real meaning. 3 Perfect goodness. serted in later manuscripts; but they are evidently 4 Man nor woman. 5 Forbidden. spurious, and are omitted in the best editions. 6 Plaster over, whitewash." 7 Idolater. 23 Unless. 8 The true. 9 Kingdom. 10 Sooner. 24 "Store" is the general reading here, but its mean11 Care not for, value not. 12 Praters. ing is not obvious.' Stowre" is found in several manu13 Enjoy the use of, preserve. 14 Becomes, befits, scripts; it signifies " struggle " or "resist;" and both 15 Parrot. 16 That same pear-tree. for its own appropriateness, and for the force which it 17 Unless. 18 Servant. \ 19 No matter. gives the word "stronge," the reading in the text seems 20 Twig, bough. 21 Mince matters, the better. 25 Neck. 26 Glimmering. 22 At this point, and again some twenty lines below, 27 Rave, are confused, THE SQUIRE'S TALE. IIS Come down, my lefe,' and if I have missaid, For, an' 17 I shoulde reckon every vice God help me so, as I am evil apaid.2 Which that she hath, y-wisl8 I were too nice;l9But, by my father's soul, I ween'd have seen And causi why, it should reported be How that this Damian had by thee lain, And told her by some of this company And that thy smock had lain upon his breast." (By whom, it needeth not for to declare, "Yea, Sir," quoth she, "ye may ween as you Since women connen utter such chaffare 20), lest:3 And eke my wit sufficeth not thereto But, Sir, a man that wakes out of his sleep, To tellen all; wherefore my tale is do.21 He may not suddenly well take keep4 Squier, come near, if it your wille be, Upon a thing, nor see it perfectly, And say somewhat of love, for certes ye Till that he be adawed5 verily. Conne thereon 22 as much as any man." Right so a man, that long hath blind y-be, "Nay, Sir," quoth he; "but suchthingas I can, He may not suddenly so well y-see, With hearty will,-for I will not rebel First when his sight is newe come again, Against your lust,23-a tale will I tell. As he that hath a day or two y-seen. Have me excused if I speak amiss; Till that your sight establish'd be a while, My will is good; and lo, my tale is this." There may full many a sighte you beguile. Beware, I pray you, for, by heaven's king,THE TALE.24 Full many a man weeneth to see a thing, And it is all another than it seemeth; Pars Prima. He which that misconceiveth oft misdeemeth."6 And with that word she leapt down from the At Sarra, in the land of Tartary, Tstree. There dwelt a king that warrayed25 Russie, This January, who is glad but he? Through which there died many a doughty He kissed her, and clipped7 her full oft, man; And on her womb he stroked her full soft; This noble king was called Cambuscan,26 And to his palace home he hath her lad.hich in his time was of so great renown, Now, goodi men, I pray you to be glad. That there was nowhere in no regiofin Now, good8 men, I pray you to be glad. S e n a lr i a tn Thus endeth here my tale of January, So excellent a lord in alli thing: God bless us, and his mother, SaintiS Mary. Him lacked nought that longeth to a king, God bless us, and his motiher, Saintd Mary. As of the sect of which that he was born. He kept his law to which he was y-sworn, And thereto 27 he was hardy, wise, and rich, And piteous and just, always y-lich; 28 THE SQUI S TALE True of his word, benign and honourable; THE PSUIRE'. TAE. Of his corRge as any centre stable; 29 THE PROLOGUE. Young, fresh, and strong, in armis desirofus As any bachelor of all his house. "HEY! Godds's mercy! " said our Hoste tho,9 A fair person he was, and fortunate, "Now such a wife I pray God keep me fro'. And kept alway so well his royal estate, Lo, suchi sleightis and subtilities That there was nowhere such another man. In women be; for aye as busy as bees This noble king, this Tartar Cambuscan, Are they us silly men for to deceive, Haddi two sons by Elfeta his wife, And from the soothe 10 will they ever weive,l Of which the eldest hight6 Algarsife, As this Merchanti's tale it proveth well. The other was y-called Camballo. But natheless, as true as any steel, A daughter had this worthy king also, I have a wife, though that she poor6 be; That youngest was, and hight6 Canac6: But of her tongue a labbing12 shrew is she; But for to tells you all her beauty, And yet 13 she hath a heap of vices mo'. It lies not in my tongue, nor my conning;30 Thereof no force; 14 let all such thingis go. I dare not undertake so high a thing: But wit15 ye what? in counsel16 be it said, Mine English eke is insufficient, Me rueth sore I am unto her tied; It musts be a rhetor 31 excellent, 1 Dear. 2 Grieved. the conclusion has been lost, but because the author 3 Think as you please. 4 Notice. left it so. 5 Awakened. 6 Who mistakes oft misjudges. 25 Made war upon; the Russians and Tartars waged 7 Embraced. 8 Led. constant hostilities between the thirteenth and six9 Then. 10 Truth. 11 Swerve, depart. teenth centuries. 12 Blabbing, prating. 13 Moreover. 26 In the best manuscripts the name is "Cambyn14 No matter. 15 Know. skan," and thus, no. doubt, it should strictly be read, 16 Secret, confidence. 17 If. But it is a most pardonable offence against literal 18 Certainly. 19 Foolish. accuracy to use the word which Milton has made 20 Are adepts at giving circulation to such wares. classical, in " II Penseroso," speaking of "him that left The Host evidently means that his wife would be sure half-told the story of Cambuscan bold." Surely the to hear of his confessions from some female member of admiration of Milton might well seem to the spirit of the company. 21 Done. Chaucer to condone a much greater transgression on'22 Know of it. 23 Pleasure. his domain than this verbal change-which to both eye. 24 The Squire's Tale has not been found under any and ear is an unquestionable improvement on the unother form among the literary remains of the Middle couth original. Ages; and it is unknown from what original it was de- 27 Moreover, besides. 28 Alike, in even mood. rived, if from any. The Tale is unfinished, not because 29 Firm, immovable of spirit. so Skill., 31 Orator, 116 THE CANTERBURY TALES. That couth his colours longing for that art,1 By order as they satten in the hall, If he should her describen any part; With so high reverence and 6bservance, I am none such, I must speak as I can. As well in speech as in his countenance, And so befell, that when this Cambuscan That Gawain 14 with his old6 courtesy, Had twenty winters borne his diadem, Though he were come again out of Faerie, As he was wont from year to year, I deem, Him couldi not amendi with a word.l5 He let the feast of his nativity And after this, before the highi board, Do crye,2 throughout Sarra his city, He with a manly voice said his message, The last Idus of March, after the year. After the form used in his language, Phcebus the sun full jolly was and clear, Withouti vice 16 of syllable or letter. For he was nigh his exaltati6n And, for his tale shouldi seem the better, In Marte's face, and in his mansi6n 3 Accordant to his wordis was his cheer,l7 In Aries, the choleric hot sign: As teacheth art of speech them that it lear.18 Full lusty 4 was the weather and benign; Albeit that I cannot sound his style, For which the fowls against the sunne sheen,5 Nor cannot climb over so high a stile, What for the season and the younge green, Yet say I this, as to commfine intent,l9 Full loude sange their affecti6ns: Thus much amounteth 20 all that ever he meant, Them seemed to have got protections If it so be that I have it in mind. Against the sword of winter keen and cold. He said; " The king of Araby and Ind, This Cambuscan, of which I have you told, My lieg8 lord, on this solemne day In royal vesture, sat upon his dais, Saluteth you as he best can and may, With diadem, full high in his palace; And sendeth you, in honour of your feast, And held his feast so solemn and so rich, By me, that am all ready at your hest,2 That in this worlde was there none it lich.6 This steed of brass, that easily and well Of which if I should tell all the array, Can in the space of one day naturel Then would it occupy a summer's day; (This is to say, in four-and-twenty hours), And eke it needeth not for to devise 7 Whereso you list, in drought or else in show'rs, At every course the order of service. Beare your body into every place I will not tellen of their strange sewes,8 To which your hearte willeth for to pace,22 Nor of their swannes, nor their heronsews.9 Withoute wem 23 of you, through foul or fair. Eke in that land, as telle knight's old, Or if you list to fly as high in air There is some meat that is full dainty hold, As doth an eagle, when him list to soar, That in this land men reck of 10 it full small: This same steed shall bear you evermore There is no man that may reporten all. Withoute harm, till ye be where you lest 24 I will not tarry you, for it is prime, (Though that ye sleepen on his back, or rest), And for it is no fruit, but loss of time; And turn again, with writhing of a pin. Unto my purpose 11 I will have recourse. He that it wrought, he coud6 26 many a gin;'7 And so befell that, after the third course, He waited28 many a constellati6n, While that this king sat thus in his nobley,12 Ere he had done this operati6n, Hearing his ministreles their thinges play And knew full many a seal 29 and many a bond. Before him at his board deliciously, This mirror eke, that I have in mine hond, In at the halle door all suddenly Hath such a might, that men may in it see There came a knight upon a steed of brass, When there shall fall any adversity And in his hand a broad mirror of glass; Unto your realm, or to yourself also, Upon his thumb he had of gold a ring, And openly who is your friend or foe. And by his side a naked sword hanging: And over all this, if any lady bright And up he rode unto the highi board. Hath set her heart on any manner wight, In all the hall was'there not spoke a word, If he be false, she shall his -treason see, For marvel of this knight; him to behold His newe love, and all his subtlety, Full busily they waited, 13 young and old. So openly that there shall nothing hide. This strange knight, that came thus suddenly, Wherefore, against this lusty summer-tide, All armed, save his head, full richely, This mirror, and this ring that ye may see, Saluted king, and queen, and lordes all, He hath sent to my lady Canace, 1 Well-skilled in using the colours-the word-paint- 9 Young herons; French, "heronneaux." ing-belonging to his art. 10 Care for. 11 Story, discourse; French, " propos." 2 Caused his birthday festival to be proclaimed, 12 Noble, brave array. 13 Watched. ordered by proclamation. 14 Celebrated in mediaeval romance as the most 3 Aries was the mansion of Mars-to whom' his " courteous among King Arthur's knights. applies. Leo was the mansion of the Sun. 15 Could not better him by one word. 4 Pleasant. 5 Bright. 6 Like. 7 Relate. 13 Fault. 17 Demeanour. 18 Learn. 8 Dishes, or soups. The precise force of the word is 19 The general sense or meaning. uncertain; but it may be connected with " seethe," to 20 This is the sum of. 21 Command. boil;; anditseems todescribe a dishin which the fleshwas 22 Pass, go. 23 Hurt, injury. servedupamida kind ofbrothorgravy. The "sewer," 24 It pleases you. 25 Twisting. 26 Knew. taster or assayer of the viands served at great tables, 27 Contrivance; trick; snare. Compare Italian, probably derived his name from the verb to " say" or "inganno," deception; and our own " engine." "assay;" though Tyrwhittwouldconnect the twowords, 28 Observed. by taking both from the French, " asseoir," to place- 29 Mr Wright remarks that " the making and arrangemaking the arrangement of the table the! leading duty ment of seals was one of the important operations of of the " sewer," rather than the testing of the food. medieval magic." THE SQUIRE'S TALE. 117 Your excellente daughter that is here. Nature nor art ne could him not amend The virtue of this ring, if ye will hear, In no degree, as all the people wend.13 Is this, that if her list it for to wear But evermore their most5 wonder was Upon her thumb, or in her purse it bear, How that it coulde go, and was of brass; There is no fowl that flyeth under heaven, It was of Faerie, as the people seem'd. That she shall not well understand his steven,1 Diverse folk diversely they deem'd; And know his meaning openly and plain, As many heads, as many wittes been. And answer him in his language again: They murmured, as doth a swarm of been,l4 And every grass that groweth upon root And madi skills 15 after their fantasies, She shall eke know, to whom it will do boot,2 Rehearsing of the olde poetries, All be his woundes ne'er so deep and wide. And said that it was like the Pegase,16 This naked sword, that hangeth by my side, The horse that hadde winges for to flee; Such virtue hath, that what man that it smite, Or else it was the Greeke's horse Sinon,l7 Throughout his armour it will carve and bite, That broughte Troye to destruction, Were it as thick as is a branched oak: As men may in the olde gestes s read. And what man is y-wounded with the stroke "Mine heart," quoth one, "is evermore in dread; Shall ne'er be whole, till that you list, of grace, I trow some men of armes be therein, To stroke him with the flat in thilke 3 place That shape them'9 this city for to win: Where he is hurt; this is as much to sayn, It were right good that all such thing were Ye musts with the flatte sword again know." Stroke him upon the wound, and it will close. Another rowned 2 to his fellow low, This is the very sooth, withoute glose; 4 And said, "He lies; for it is rather like It faileth not, while it is in your hold." An apparenci made by some magic, And when this knight had thus his tale told, As jugglers playen at these feastes great." He rode out of the hall, and down he light. Of sundry doubts they jangle thus and treat. His steedS, which that shone as sunne bright, As lewSd2l people deemS commonly Stood in the court as still as any stone. Of thinges that be made more subtilly The knight is to his chamber led anon, Than they can in their lew'dness comprehend; And is unarmed, and to meat y-set.5 They deemS gladly to the badder end.22 These presents be full richely y-fet, — And some of them wonder'd on the mirrofir, This is to say, the sword and the mirrofr,- That borne was up into the master tow'r,23 And borne anon into the highe tow'r, How men might in it suche thinges see. With certain officers ordain'd therefor; Another answ6r'd and said, it might well be And unto Canac6 the ring is bore Naturally by compositions Solemnely, where she sat at the table; Of angles, and of sly reflecti6ns; But sickerly, withouten any fable, And saide that in Rome was such a one. The horse of brass, that may not be remued.7 They speak of Alhazen and Vitellon,24 It stood as it were to the ground y-glued; And Aristotle, that wrote in their lives There may no man out of the place it drive Of quainte 25 mirrors, and of pr6spectives, For no engine of windlass or polive; 8 As knowS they that have their bookis heard. And causB why, for they can not the craft; 9 And other folk have wonder'd on the swerd, And therefore in the place they have it laft, That woulde pierce throughout every thing; Till that the knight hath taught them the And fell in speech of Telephus the king, mannere And of Achilles for his quainte spear, To voidS 10 him, as ye shall after hear. For he could with it bothe heal and dere,26 Great was the press, that swarmed to and fro Right in such wise as men may with the swerd To gauren 1 on this horse that stoode so: Of which right now ye have yourselves heard. For it so high was, and so broad and long, They spake of sundry hard'ning of metal, So well proportioned for to be strong, And spake of medicines therewithal, Right as it were a steed of Lombardy; And how, and when, it shoulde harden'd be, Therewith so horsely, and so quick of eye, Which is unknowen algate 27 unto me. As it a gentle Poileis 12 courser were: Then spake they of Canac6s's ring, For certes, from his tail unto his ear And saiden all, that such a wondrous thing 1 Speech, sound. 2 Remedy. 3 The same. street is called the "master street." See note 6, 4 Deceit. 5 Seated at table. 6 Fetched. page 45. 7 Removed; French, "remuer," to stir. 24 Two writers on optics, the first supposed to have 8 Pulley. lived about 1100; the other about 1270. Tyrwhitt says 9 Know not the cunning of the mechanism. that their works were printed at Basle in 1572, under 10 Remove. 11 Gaze. the title "Alhazeni et Vitellonis Opticae." 12 Apulian. The horses of Apulia-in old French 25 Curious. "Poille," in Italian "Puglia"-were held in high 26 Wound. Telephus, a son of Hercules, reigned value. 13 Weened, thought. over Mysia when the Greeks came to besiege Troy, and 14 Bees. 15 Reasons. 16 Pegasus. he sought to prevent their landing. But, by the art of 17 The wooden horse of the Greek Sinon, introduced Dionysus, he was made to stumble over a vine, and into Troy by the stratagem of its maker. Achilles wounded him with his spear. The oracle 18 Narratives of exploits and adventures, informed Telephus that the hurt could be healed only 19 Design, prepare. 20 Whispered. by him, or by the weapon, that inflicted it; and the 21 Ignorant. 22 Are ready to think the worst, king, seeking the Grecian camp, was healed by Achilles 23 Chief tower; as, in the Knight's Tale, the principal with the rust of the charmed spear. 27 However. I8. THE CANTERBURY TALES. Of craft of ringes heard they never none, To see the horse of brass, with all a rout Save that he, Moses, and King Solomon, Of lord's and of ladies him about. Hadden a name of conning 1 in such art. Such wond'ring was there on this horse of brass, Thus said the people, and drew them apart. That, since the greate siege of Troye was, But natheless some saide that it was There as men wonder'd on a horse also, Wonder to maken of fern ashes glass, Ne'er was there such a wond'ring as was tho.7 And yet is glass nought like ashes of fern; But finally the king asked the knight But, for 2 they have y-knowen it so ferne,3 The virtue of this courser, and the might, Thereforeceaseththeirjanglingandtheirwonder. And prayed him to tell his governance.l8 As sorS wonder some on cause of thunder, The horse anon began to trip and dance, On ebb and flood, on gossamer and mist, When that the knight laid hand upon his rein, And on all thing, till that the cause is wist.4 And saide, " Sir, there is no more to sayn, Thus jangle they, and deemen and devise, But when you list to riden anywhere, Till that the king gan from his board arise. Ye muste trill 19 a pin, stands in his ear, Bhoebus had left the angle meridional, Which I shall telli you betwixt us two; And yet ascending was the beast royal, Ye muste name him to what place also, The gentle Lion, with his Aldrian,5 Or to what country that you list to ride. When that this Tartar king, this Cambuscan, And when ye come where you list abide, Rose from his board, there as he sat full high: Bid him descend, and trill another pin Before him went the loude minstrelsy, (For therein lies th' effect of all the gin 20), Till he came to his chamber of parements,6 And he will down descend and do your will, There as they sounded divers instruments, And in that place he will abide still; That it was like a heaven for to hear. Though all the world had the contrary swore, Now danced lusty Venus' children dear: He shall not thence be throwen nor be bore. For in the Fish 7 their lady sat full high, Or, if you list to bid him thennes gon, And looked on them with a friendly eye. Trill this pin, and he will vanish anon This noble king is set upon his throne; Out of the sight of every manner wight, This strange knight is fetched to him full sone,s And come again, be it by day or night, And on the dance he goes with Canace. When that you list to clepe 21 him again Here is the revel and the jollity, In such a guise, as I shall to you sayn That is not able a dull man to devise: 9 Betwixti you and me, and that full soon. He must have knowen love and his service, Ride 22 when you list, there is no more to do'n." And been a feastly 10 man, as fresh as May, Informed when the king was of the knight, That shoulde you devise such array. And had conceived in his wit aright Who coulde telle you the form of dances The manner and the form of all this thing, So fincouth,l and so fresh5 countenances,12 Full glad and blithe, this noble doughty king Such subtle lookings and dissimulings Repaired to his revel as beforn. For dread of jealous men's apperceivings? The bridle is into the tower borne, No man but Launcelot,l3 and he is dead. And kept among his jewels lefe 2" and dear; Therefore I pass o'er all this lustihead; 4 The horse vanish'd, I n'ot 24 in what mann6re, I say no more, but in this jolliness Out of their sight; ye get no more of me: I leave them, till to supper men them dress. But thus I leave in lust and jollity The steward bids the spices for to hie 15 This Cambuscan his lordes feastying,25 And eke the wine, in all this melody; Until well nigh the day began to spring. The ushers and the squiers be y-gone, The spices and the wine is come anon: They eat and drink, and when this hath an end, Unto the temple, as reason was, they wend; The norice 26 of digesti6n, the sleep, The service done, they suppen all by day. Gan on them wink, and bade them taki keep,'7 What needeth you rehearse their array? That muchS mirth and labour will have rest: Each man wot well, that at a kingS's feast And with a gaping28 mouth them all he kest,29 Is plenty, to the most 16 and to the least, And said, that it was time to lie down, And dainties more than be in my knowing. For blood was in his dominatioun: At after supper went this noble king " Cherish the blood,30 natfur's friend," quoth he. 1 Had a reputation for knowledge. 13 Arthur's famous knight, so accomplished and 2 Because. courtly, that he was held the very pink of chivalry. 3 Before; a corruption of "forne," from Anglo-Saxon, 14 Pleasantness. 15 Haste. 16 Greatest. "foran." 4 Known. 17 Then. 18 Mode of managing him. 5 Or Alderan; a star in the neck of the constellation 19 Turn; akin to "thirl," "drill." Leo. 20 Contrivance. 21 Call. 6 Presence-chamber, or chamber of state, full of 22 Another reading is " bide," alight or remain. splendid furniture and ornaments. The same expres- 23 Cherished. 24 Know not. sion is used in French and Italian. 25 Entertaining; French, "festoyer," to feast.? In Pisces, Venus was said to be at her exaltation 26 Nurse. 27 Heed. or greatest power. See note 28, page 77. 28 Yawning. 29 Kissed. 8 Soon. 9 Tell, describe. 10 Merry, gay. 30 The old physicians held that blood dominated in 1 Unfamiliar, strange; from " conne," to know. See the human body late at night and in the early mornnote 7, page 17. ing. Galen says that the domination lasts for seven 12 The pantomimic gestures of the dance, hours. hours.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE SQUIRE'S TALE. I9 They thanked him gaping, by two and three; As Canace was playing in her walk, And every wight gan draw him to his rest, There sat a falcon o'er her head full high, As sleep them bade, they took it for the best. That with a piteous voice so gan to cry, Their dreamis shall not now be told for me; That all the wood resounded of her cry, Full were their headis of fumosity,l And beat she had herself so piteously That caused dreams of which there is no charge.2 With both her winges, till the reddd blood They slepte till that it was prime large,3 Ran endelong 22 the tree, there as she stood. The most8 part, but 4 it were Canace; And ever-in-one 23 alway she cried and shright,24 She was full measurdble,5 as women be. And with her beak herselfe she so pight,25 For of her father had she ta'en her leave, That there is no tiger, nor cruel beast, To go to rest, soon after it was eve; That dwelleth either in wood or in forest, Her liste not appalled6 for to be, But would have wept, if that he weepe could, Nor on the morrow unfeastly for to see; 7 For sorrow of her, she shriek'd alway so loud. And slept her firste sleep, and then awoke. For there was never yet no man alive, For such a joy she in her hearte took If that he could a falcon well descrive,26 Both of her quainte 8 ring and her mirrour, That heard of such another of fairness That twenty times she changed her colour; As well of plumage, as of gentleness, And in her sleep, right for th' impression Of shape, of all that mightB reckon'd be. Of her mirr6r, she had a visi6n. A falcon peregrini seemed she, Wherefore, ere that the sunne gan up glide, Of fremd 27 land; and ever as she stood She call'd upon her mistress' 9 her beside, She swooned now and now for lack of blood, And saide, that her liste for to rise. Till well-nigh is she fallen from the tree. These olde women, that be gladly wise, This faire kinge's daughter Canace, As are her mistresses, answ6r'd anon, That on her finger bare the quainte 8 ring, And said; " MadamS, whither will ye gon Through which she understood well every thing Thus early? for the folk be all in rest." That any fowl may in his leden28 sayn, " I will," quoth she, "arise, for me lest And could him answer in his leden again, No longer for to sleep, and walk about." Hath understoode what this falcon said, Her mistresses call'd women a great rout, And well-nigh for the ruth29 almost she died; And up they rose, well a ten or twelve; And to the tree she went full hastily, Up rose freshe Canac6 herselve, And on this falcon looked piteously, As ruddy and bright as is the younge sun And held her lap abroad, for well she wist That in the Ram is four degrees y-run; The falcon muste falle from the twist 30 No higher was he, when she ready was; When that she swooned next, for lack of blood. And forth she walked easily a pace, A longe while to waite her she stood, Array'd after the lusty 10 season swoot,l Till at the last she spake in this mannere LightSly for to play, and walk on foot, Unto the hawk, as ye shall after hear. Nought but with five or six of her meinie;2 " What is the cause, if it be for to tell, And in a trench 3 forth in the park went she. That ye be in this furial31 pain of hell? " The vapour, which up from the earthe glode,14 Quoth Canace unto this hawk above; Made the sun to seem ruddy and broad: " Is this for sorrow of death, or loss of love? But, natheless, it was so fair a sight For, as I trow,32 these be the causes two, That it made all their heartes for to light,5 That cause most a gentle hearte woe. What for the season, and the morrowning, Of other harm it needeth not to speak. And for the fowles that she heard6 sing. For ye yourself upon yourself awreak,33 For right anon she wist 16 what they meant Which proveth well, that either ire or dread 34 Right by their song, and knew all their intent. Must be occasion of your cruel deed, The knott,17 why that every tale is told, Since that I see none other wight you chase. If it be tarried 18 till the lust 19 be cold For love of God, as do yourselfe grace,35 Of them that have it hearken'd after yore,20 Or what may be your help? for, west nor east, The savour passeth ever longer more, I never saw ere now no bird nor beast For fulsomeness of the prolixity: That fared with himself so piteously. And by that same reason thinketh me Ye slay me with your sorrow verily, I should unto the knotte condescend, I have of you so great compassiofin. And maken of her walking soon an end. For Godde's love come from the tree adown; Amid a tree fordry,2l as white as chalk, And, as I am a kingi's daughter true, 1 Fumes of wine rising from the stomach to the 19 Inclination, zest. 20 For a long time. head. 21 Thoroughly dried up. 22 From top to bottom of. 2 Which are of no significance. 23 Incessantly. 24 Shrieked. 3 Broad forenoon, dinner-time. 25 Picked, wounded. 26 Describe. 4 Except. 5 Moderate. 27 Foreign, strange; German, "fremd;" in the nor6 She did not choose to be made pale. thern dialects, "frem," or "fremmed," is used in the 7 To look sad, depressed. 8 Curious. same sense. 9 Tutoresses, governesses. 10 Pleasant. g 28 Language, dialect; from Anglo-Saxon, "leden" or 11 Sweet. 12 Servants, household. "laeden," a corruption from "Latin.". 13 A path cut out. 14 Glided. 29 Pity. 30 Twig, bough. 31 Raging, furious. 15 Be lightened, gladdened. 16 Knew. 32 Believe. 33 Revenge. 34 Fear. 17 Nucleus, chief matter. 18 Delayed. 35 Have mercy on yourself. t20 -THE CANTERBURY TALES. If that I verily the causes knew And in this wise he served his intent, Of your disease,' if it lay in my might, That, save the fiend, none wiste what he meant: I would amend it, ere that it were night, Till he so long had weeped and complain'd, So wisly 2 help me the great God of kind.3 And many a year his service to me feign'd, And herbes shall I right enoughe find, Till that mine heart, too piteous and too nice,17 To heale with your hurtis hastily." All innocent of his crowned malice, Then shriek'd this falcon yet more piteously Forfeared of his death,l8 as thoughti me, Than ever she did, and fell to ground anon, Upon his oathes and his surety And lay aswoon, as dead as lies a stone, Granted him love, on this conditioin, Till Canace had in her lap her take, That evermore mine honour and renown Unto that time she gan of swoon awake: Were saved, bothe privy and apert; 19 And, after that she out of swoon abraid,4 This is to say, that, after his desert, Right in her hawke's leden thus she said: I gave him all my heart and all my thought " That pity runneth soon in gentle heart (God wot, and he, that other wayes nought 20), (Feeling his simil'tude in paine's smart), And took his heart in change of mine for aye. Is proved every day, as men may see, But sooth is said, gone since many a day, As well by work as by authority; 5 A true wight and a thiefe think not one.21 For gentle hearte kitheth 6 gentleness. And when he saw the thing so far y-gone, I see well, that ye have on my distress That I had granted him fully my love, Compassi6n, my fairi Canace, In such a wise as I have said above, Of very womanly benignity And given him my tru6 heart as free That nature in your principles hath set. As he swore that he gave his heart to me, But for no hope for to fare the bet,7 Anon this tiger, full of doubleness, But for t' obey unto your hearte free, Fell on his knees with so great humbleness, And for to make others aware by me, With so high reverence, as by his cheer,2' As by the whelp chastis'd 8 is the li6n, So like a gentle lover in mannere, Right for that cause and that conclusi6n, So ravish'd, as it seemed, for the joy, While that I have a leisure and a space, That never Jason, nor Paris of Troy,Mine harm I will confessen ere I pace." 9 Jason? certes, nor ever other man, And ever while the one her sorrow told, Since Lamech was, that alderfirst 23 began The other wept, as she to water wo'ld,l To love two, as write folk beforn, Till that the falcon bade her to be still, Nor ever since the firste man was born, And with a sigh right thus she said her till: 11 Coulde no man, by twenty thousand part, " Where I was bred (alas that ilke 12 day!) Counterfeit the sophimes 24 of his art; And foster'd in a rock of marble gray Nor worthy were t' unbuckle his galoche,25 So tenderly, that nothing ailed me, Where doubleness of feigning should approach, I wiste not what was adversity, Nor could so thank a wight, as he did me. Till I could flee full high under the sky. His manner was a heaven for to see Then dwell'd a tercilet 13 me faste by, To any woman, were she ne'er so wise; That seem'd a well of alle gentleness; So painted he and kempt,26 at point devise,27 All were he 4 full of treason and falsen6ss, As well his wordes as his countenance. It was so wrapped under humble cheer,5 And I so lov'd him for his obeisance, And under hue of truth, in such mann6re, And for the truth I deemed in his heart, Under pleasance, and under busy pain, That, if so were that any thing him smart,28 That no wight weened that he coulde feign, All were it ne'er so lite,29 and I it wist, So deep in grain he dyed his colours. Methought I felt death at my hearte twist. Right as a serpent hides him under flow'rs, And shortly, so farforth this thing is went,30 Till he may see his time for to bite, That my will was his wille's instrument; Right so this god of love's hypocrite That is to say, my will obey'd his will Did so his ceremonies and obeisances, In alle thing, as far as reason fill,31 And kept in semblance all his 6bservances, Keeping the boundes of my worship ever; That sounden unto 16 gentleness of love. And never had I thing so lefe, or lever,32 As on a tomb is all the fair above, As him, God wot, nor never shall no mo'. And under is the corpse, which that ye wot, " This lasted longer than a year or two, Such was this hypocrite, both cold and hot; That I supposed of him naught but good. 1 Distress. 2 Surely. 3 Nature. 4 Awoke. 21 Do not think alike. 22 Mien. 5 By experience as by text or doctrine. 23 First of all. " And Lamech took unto him two t; Sheweth. 7 Better. 8 Instructed, corrected. wives: the name of the one Adah, and the name of the 9 Depart. 10 As if she would dissolve into water, other Zillah " (Gen. iv. 19). 11 To her. 12 Same. 24 Sophistries, beguilements. 13 The "tassel," or male of any species of hawk; so 25 Shoe; it seems to have been used in France, of a called, according to Cotgrave, because he is one-third "sabot," or wooden shoe. The reader cannot fail to (" tiers ") smaller than the female. recall the same illustration in John i. 27, where the 14 Although he was. Baptist says of Christ: "He it is, who coming after 15 Under an aspect, mien, of humility. me is preferred before me; whose shoe's latchet I am 16 Are consonant to. 17 Foolish, simple. not worthy to unloose." 26 Combed, studied. 18 Greatly afraid lest he should die. 27 With perfect precision. 28 Pained. 19 Both privately and in public. 29 Little. 30 So far did this go. 20 In no other way, on no other terms. 31 Fell; allowed. 32 So dear, or dearer. THE SQUIRE'S TALE. 121 33ut finally, thus at the last it stood, And goodly for to see, and humble, and free, That fortune wouldb that he muste twin 1 He saw upon a time a kitd flee, Out of that place which that I was in. And suddenly he loved this kite so, WVhe'er 2 me was woe, it is no questi6n; That all his love is clean from me y-go: I cannot make of it descripti6n. And hath his trothe falsed in this wise. For one thing dare I telle boldely, Thus hath the kite my love in her service, I know what is the pain of death thereby; And I am lorn 9 withouti remedy." Such harm I felt, for he might not byleve.3 And with that word this falcon gan to cry, So on a day of me he took his leave, And swooned eft10 in Canac6i's barme.1l So sorrowful eke, that I ween'd verily, Great was the sorrow, for that hawke's harm, That he had felt as muche harm as I, That Canact and all her women made; When that I heard him speak, and saw his hue. They wist not how they might the falcon glade.12 But natheless, I thought he was so true, But Canace home bare her in her lap, And eke that he repairs should again And softely in plasters gan her wrap, Within a little while, sooth to sayn, There as she with her beak had hurt herselve. And reason would eke that he must6 go Now cannot Canace but herbes delve For his honoiur, as often happ'neth so, Out of the ground, and make salves new That I made virtue of necessity, Of herb's precious and fine of hue, And took it well, since that it mustB be. To heale with this hawk; from day to night As I best might, I hid from him my sorrow, She did her business, and all her might. And took him by the hand, Saint John to And by her beddt's head she made a mew,13 borrow,4 And cover'd it with velouettis blue,14 And said him thus;'Lo, I am youris all; In sign of truth that is in woman seen; Be such as I have been to you, and shall.' And all without the mew is painted green, What he answtr'd, it needs not to rehearse; In which were painted all these falsi fowls, Who can say bet 5 than he, who can do worse? As be these tidifes,l5 tercelets, and owls; When he had all well said, then had he done. And pits, on them for to cry and chide, Therefore behoveth him a full long spoon, Right for despite were painted them beside. That shall eat with a fiend; thus heard I say. Thus leave I Canact her hawk keeping. So at the last he must6 forth his way, I will no more as now speak of her ring, And forth he flew, till he came where him lest. Till it come eft 1G to purpose for to sayn When it came him to purpose for to rest, How that this falcon got her love again I trow that he had thilke text in mind, Repentant, as the story telleth us, That alle thing repairing to his kind By mediati6n of Camballus, Gladdeth himself; 6 thus say men, as I guess; The kinge's son of which that I you told. Men love of [proper] kind newfangleness,7 But henceforth I will my process hold As birdis do, that men in cages feed. To speak of aventures, and of battailes, For though thou night and day take of them That yet was never heard so great marvailles. heed, First I will telle you of Cambuscan, And strew their cago fair and soft as silk, That in his tim6 many a city wan; And give them sugar, honey, bread, and milk, And after will I speak of Algarsife, Yet, right anon as that his door is up,8 How he won Theodora to his wife, He with his feet will spurni down his cup, For whom full oft in great peril he was, And to the wood he will, and wormes eat; N' had he 17 been holpen by the horse of brass. So newefangle be they of their meat, And after will I speak of Camball6,s8 And lov6 novelties, of proper kind; That fought in listes with the brethren two No gentleness of bloode may them bind. For Canact, ere that he might her win; So far'd this tercelet, alas the day! And where I left I will again begin. Though he were gentle born, and fresh, and gay,.. 1 Depart, separate. 2 Whether. which the refrain is, " In stede of blew, thus may ye 3 Stay; another form is " bleve;" from Anglo-Saxon, were al grene." "belifan," to remain. Compare German, "bleiben." 15 Supposed to be the titmouse. 4 Witness, pledge. 5 Better. 16 Again, presently. 17 Had he not. 6 This sentiment, as well as the illustration of the 18 Unless we suppose this to be a namesake of the bird which follows, is taken from the third book of Camballo who was Canace's brother-which is not at Boethius, " De Consolatione Philosophise," metrum 2. all probable-we must agree with Tyrwhitt that there It has thus been rendered in Chaucer's translation: is a mistake here; which no doubt Chaucer would have "All things seek aye to their proper course, and all rectified, if the tale had not been "left half-told." One things rejoice on their returning again to their na- manuscript reads "Caballo;" and though not much ture." authority need be given to a difference that may be due 7 Men, by their own-their very-nature, are fond to mere omission of the mark of contraction over the of novelty, and prone to inconstancy. " a," there is enough in the text to show that another 8 Immediately on his door being opened. person than the king's younger son is intended. The 9 Lost, undone. 10 Again. Squire promises to tell the adventures that befell each II Lap. 12 Gladden, member of Cambuscan's family; and in thorough con13 Cage. sistency with this plan, and with the canons of chivalric 14 Blue velvets. Blue was the colour of truth, as green story, would be " the marriage of Canace to some knight was that of inconstancy. In John Stowe's additions to who was first obliged to fight for her with her two Chaucer's works, printed in 1561, there is "A balade brethren; a method of courtship," adds Tyrwhitt, whiche Chaucer made against womien inconstaunt," of " very consonant to the spirit of ancient chivalry." 122 THE CANTERBURY TALES. I learned never rhetoric, certain; TH:E FRANKLIN'S TALE. Thing that I speak, it must be bare and plain. THE FRANKLIN'S TALE. I slept never on the mount of Parnass6, THE PROLOGUE.1 Nor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero. Colotres know I none, withouti dread,13 "IN faith, Squier, thou hast thee well acquit, But such colofrs as growen in the mead, And gentilly; I praise well thy wit," Or elles such as men dye with or paint; Quoth the Franklin; " considering thy youthi Colofrs of rhetoric be to me quaint;14 So feelingly thou speak'st, Sir, I aloue 2 thee, My spirit feeleth not of such mattere. As to my doom,3 there is none that is here But, if you list, my tale shall ye hear." Of eloquence that shall be thy peer, If that thou live; God give thee goodi chance, And in virtue send thee continuance, THE TALE. For of thy speaking I have great dainty.4 I have a son, and, by the Trinity, In Armoric', that called is Bretagne, It were me lever 5 than twenty pound worth There was a knight, that lov'd and did his pain 1 land, To serve a lady in his bestB wise; Though it right now were fallen in my hand, And many a labour, many a great emprise, He were a man of such discretion He for his lady wrought, ere she were won: As that ye be: fy on possession, For she was one the fairest under'sun, But if 6 a man be virtuous withal. And eke thereto come of so high kindr6d, I have my sone snibbed,7 and yet shall, That well unnethes 6 durst this knight, for For he to virtue listeth not t' intend,8 dread, But for to play at dice, and to dispend, Tell her his woe, his pain, and his distress. And lose all that he hath, is his usage; But, at the last, she for his worthiness, And he had lever talke with a page, And namely 17 for his meek obeisance, Than to commune with any gentle wight, Hath such a pity caught of his penance,18 There he might learen gentilless aright." That privily she fell of his accord "Straw for your gentillesse! " quoth our To take him for her husband and her lord Host. (Of such lordship as men have o'er their wives); "What? Frankelin, pardie, Sir, well thou wcs' 9 And, for to lead the more in bliss their lives, That each of you must tellen at the least Of his free will he swore her as a knight, A tale or two, or breake his behest." 10 That never in all his life he day nor night "That know I well, Sir," quoth the Frankilin; Should take upon himself no mastery "I pray you have me not in disdain, Against her will, nor kithe 19 her jealousy, Though I to this man speak a word or two." But her obey, and follow her will in all, "Tell on thy tale, withoutB wordes mo'." As any lover to his lady shall; " Gladly, Sir Host," quoth he, " I will obey Save that the name of sovereignety Unto your will; now hearken what I say; That would he have, for shame of his degree. I will you not contrary in no wise, She thanked him, and with full great humbless As far as that my wittes may suffice. She saide; " Sir, since of your gentleness I pray to God that it may please you, Ye proffer me to have so large a reign, Then wot I well that it is good enow. Ne woulde God never betwixt us twain, " These olde gentle Bretons, in their days, As in my guilt, were either war or strife: 0 Of divers aventires made lays,l Sir, I will be your humble true wife, Rhymeden in their firsti Breton tongue; Have here my troth, till that my hearti brest. "21 Which layes with their instruments they sung, Thus be they both in quiet and in rest. Or elles reade them for their pleasance; For one thing, Sires, safely dare I say, And one of them have I in remembrance, That friends ever each other must obey, Which I shall say with good will as I can. If they will longe hold in company. But, Sirs, because I am a borel 12 man, Love will not be constrain'd by mastery. At my beginning first I you beseech When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon Have me excused of my rude speech. Beateth 2 his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. 1 In the older editions, the verses here given as the though this collection was the most famous, and had prologue were prefixed to the Merchant's Tale, and put doubtless been read by Chaucer, there were other into his mouth. Tyrwhitt was abundantly justified, by British or Breton lays, and from one of those the Frankthe internal evidence afforded by the lines themselves, lin's Tale is taken. Boccaccio has dealt with the same in transferring them to their present place. story in the "Decameron" and the "Philocopo," Allow, approve. 3 So far as my judgment goes. altering the circumstances to suit the removal of its 4 Value, esteem. scene to a southern clime. 5 It were dearer to me; I would rather. 12 Rude, unlearned. 13 Doubt. 14 Strange. 6 Unless. 7 Rebuked; "snubbed." 15 Devoted himself, strove. 8 Apply himself. 9 Knowest. o0 Promise. 16 Hardly, for fear that she would not entertain his 11 The " Breton Lays " were an important and curious suit. 17 Especially. element in the literature of the Middle Ages; they were 18 Suffering, distress. 19 Show. originally composed in the Armorican language, and 20 Would to God there may never be war or strife the chief collection of them extant was translated into between us, through my fault. 21 Burst. French verse by a poetess calling herself "Marie," 22 Perhaps the true reading is "beteth" —prepares, about the. middle of the thirteenth century. But makes ready, his wings for flight. THE FRANKLIN'S TALE. 123 Love is a thing as any spirit free. Her friendes, which that knew her heavy Women of kind1 desiri liberty, thought, And not to be constrained as a thrall; 2 Comf6rte her in all that ever they may; And so do men, if soothly I say shall. They preache her, they tell her night and day, Look who that is most patient in love, That causeless she slays herself, alas! He is at his advantage all above.3 And every comfort possible in this case Patience is a high virtfe certain, They do to her, with all their business,' For it vanquisheth, as these clerkes sayn, And all to make her leave her heaviness. Thinges that rigour never should attain. By process, as ye knowen every one, For every word men may not chide or plain. Men may so longi graven in a stone, Learne to suffer, or, so may I go,4 Till some figfire therein imprinted be: Ye shall it learn whether ye will or no. So long have they comf6rted her, till she For in this world certain no wight there is, Received hath, by hope and by reas6n, That he not doth or saith sometimes amiss. Th' imprinting of their consolati6n, Ire, or sickn6ss, or constellati6n,5 Through which her greate sorrow gan assuage; Wine, woe, or changing of complexi6n, She may not always duren in such rage. Causeth full oft to do amiss or speaken: And eke Arviragus, in all this care, On every wrong a man may not be wreaken.6 Hath sent his letters home of his welfare, After 7 the time must be temperance And that he will come hastily again, To every wight that can of 8 governance. Or ellis had this sorrow her hearty-slain. And therefore hath this worthy wisd knight Her friendes saw her sorrow gin to slake,20 (To live in ease) sufferance her behight;. And prayed her on knees for Godde's sake And she to him full wislyl0 gan to swear To come and roamen in their company, That never should there be default in her. Away to drive her darke fantasy; Here may men see a humble wife accord; And finally she granted that request, Thus hath she ta'en her servant and her lord, For well she saw that it was for the best. Servant in love, and lord in marriage. Now stood her castle faste by the sea, Then was he both in lordship and servage? And often with her friendes walked she, Servage? nay, but in lordship all above, Her to disport upon the bank on high, Since he had both his lady and his love: Where as she many a ship and barge sigh,21 His lady certes, and his wife also, Sailing their courses, where them list to go. The which that law of love accordeth to. But then was that a parcel 2 of her woe, And when he was in this prosperity, For to herself full oft, " Alas! " said she, Home with his wife he went to his country, " Is there no ship, of so many as I see, Not far from Penmark,ii where his dwelling was, Will bringe home my lord? then were my heart And there he liv'd in bliss and in solace.2' All warish'd 23 of this bitter paind's smart." Who couldi tell, but 13 he had wedded be, Another time would she sit and think, The joy, the ease, and the prosperity, And cast her eyen downward from the brink; That is betwixt a husband and his wife? But when she saw the grisly rockis blake,24 A year and more lasted this blissful life, For very fear so would her hearte quake, Till that this knight, of whom I spake thus, That on her feet she might her ot sustene: That of Cairrud14 was call'd Arviragus, Then would she sit adown upon the green, Shope 15 him to go and dwell a year or twain And piteously into the sea behold,2i In Engleland, that call'd was eke Britain, And say right thus, with careful sikis 26 cold: To seek in armes worship and honoir "Eternal God! that through thy purveyance (For all his lust 16 he set in such labofir); Leadest this world by certain governance, And dwelled there two years; the book saith In idle,27 as men say, ye nothing make; thus. But, Lord, these grisly fiendly rockes blake, Now will I stint 17 of this Arviragus, That seem rather a foul confusi6n And speak I will of Dorigen his wife, Of work, than any fair creati6n That lov'd her husband as her hearte's life. Of such a perfect wise God and stable, For his abs6nci weepeth she and siketh,l8 Why have ye wrought this work unreasonable? As do these noble wives when them liketh; For by this work, north, south, or west, or east, She mourneth, waketh, waileth, fasteth, There is not foster'd man, nor bird, nor beast: plaineth; It doth no good, to my wit, but annoyeth.28 Desire of his presence her so distraineth, See ye not, Lord, how mankind it destroyeth? That all this wide world she set at nought. A hundred thousand bodies of mankind 1 By nature. 2 Slave. 14 "The red city;" it is not known where it was 3 Enjoys the highest advantages of all. situated. 15 Prepared, arranged. 4 Prosper. 5 The influence of the planets. 16 Pleasure. 17 Cease speaking. 6 Revenged. 7 According to. 18 Sigheth. 19 Assiduity. 8 Is capable of. 9 Promised. lo Surely. 20 To diminish, slacken. 21 Saw. 22 Part. 11 On the west coast of Brittany, between Brest and 123 Cured; French, "guerir," to heal, or recover from L'Orient. The name is composed of two British words, sickness. "pen," mountain, and "mark," region; it therefore 24 Black. 25 Look out on the sea. means the mountainous country. 26 Painful sighs. 27 Idly, in vain. 12 Delight. 13 Unless. 28 Works mischief; from Latin, "noceo," I hurt. 124 THE CANTERBUR Y TALES. Have rockEs slain, all be they not in mind;1 This lusty squier, servant to Venis, Which mankind is so fair part of thy work, Which that y-called was Aurelius, Thou madest it like to thine owen mark.2 Had lov'd her best of any creature Then seemed it ye had a great cherte 3 Two year and more, as was his aventure; 13 Toward mankind; but how then may it be But never durst he tell her his grievance; That ye such meanes make it to destroy? Without5 cup he drank all his penance. Which meanes do no good, but ever annoy. He was despaired, nothing durst he say, I wot well, clerkes will say as them lest,4 Save in his songes somewhat would he wray 14 By arguments, that all is for the best, His woe, as in a general c6mplaining; Although I can the causes not y-know; He said, he lov'd, and was belov'd nothing. But thilke 5 God that made the wind to blow, Of suche matter made he many lays, As keep my lord, this is my conclusi6n: Songes, complaintes, roundels, virelays;15 To clerks leave I all disputation: How that he durste not his sorrow tell, But would to God that all these rockes blake But languished, as doth a Fury in hell;'Were sunken into helle for his sake! And die he must, he said, as did Echo These rockes slay mine hearte for the fear." For Narcissus, that durst not tell her woe. Thus would she say, with many a piteous tear. In other manner than ye hear me say, Her friendes saw that it was no disport He durste not to her his woe bewray, To roami by the sea, but discomf6rt, Save that par&venture sometimes at dances, And shope them for to playe somewhere else. Where younge folke keep their observances, They leade her by rivers and by wells, It may well be he looked on her face And eke in other places delectables; In such a wise, as man that asketh grace, They dancen, and they play at chess and tables. But nothing wiste she of his intent. So on a day, right in the morning-tide, Nath'less it happen'd, ere they thennes 16 went, Unto a garden that was there beside, Because that he was her neighebour, In which that they had made their ordinance 6 And was a man of worship and honour, Of victual, and of other purveyance, And she had knowen him of time yore,7 They go and play them all the longe day: They fell in speech, and forth aye more and more And this was on the sixth morrow of May, Unto his purpose drew Aurelius; Which May had painted with his softe show'rs And when he saw his time, he saide thus: This garden full of leaves and of flow'rs: " Madam," quoth he, " by God that this world And craft of manne's hand so curiously made, Arrayed had this garden truely, So that I wist it might your hearte glade,ls That never was there garden of such price,? I would, that day that your Arviragus But if it were the very Paradise. Went over sea, that I, Aurelius, Th' odoir of flowers, and the freshe sight, Had gone where I should never come again; Would have maked any hearte light For well I wot my service is in vain. That e'er was born, but if s too great sickness My guerdon 1 is but bursting of mine heart. Or too great sorrow held it in distress; Madame, rue upon my paine's smart, So full it was of beauty and pleasance. For with a word ye may me slay or save. And after dinner they began to dance Here at your feet God would that I were And sing also, save Dorigen alone, grave.20 Who made alway her c6mplaint and her moan, I have now no leisure more to say: For she saw not him on the dance go Have mercy, sweet, or you will do me dey." 21 That was her husband, and her love also; She gan to look upon Aurelius; But natheless she must a time abide, "Is this your will," quoth she, " and say ye And with good hope let her sorrow slide, thus? Upon this dance, amonges other men, Ne'er erst,"22 quoth she, "I wiste what ye Danced a squier before Dorigen, meant: That fresher was, and jollier of array, But now, Aurelius, I know your intent. As to my doom,9 than is the month of May. By thilke 5 God that gave me soul and life, He sang and danced, passing any man Never shall I be an untrue wife That is or was since that the world began; In word nor work, as far as I have wit; Therewith he was, if men should him descrive, I will be his to whom that I am knit; One of the beste faring 10 men alive, Take this for final answer as of me." Young, strong, and virtuous, and rich, and wise, But after that in play 23 thus saide she. And well belov'd, and holden in great price."l "Aurelius," quoth she, " by high God above, And, shortly if the sooth I telle shall, Yet will I grante you to be your love lJnweeting12 of this Dorigen at all, (Since I you see so piteously complain); 1 Though they are forgotten. 2 Image. 12 Without the knowledge. 3 Love, affection; from French, "cher," dear. 13 Fortune. 14 Betray. 4 Pleaseth. 5 That. 15 Ballads; the "virelai" was an ancient French 6 Provision, arrangement. poem of two rhymes. 16 Thence; from the garden. 7 So much to be valued or praised. 17 For a long time. 18 Gladden. 8 Unless. 9 In my judgment. 19 Reward. 20 Buried. 1o Most accomplished, best mannered. 21 Cause me to die. 22 Before, 11 Esteem, value. 23 Playfully, in jest. THE FRANKLIN'S TALE. 125 Looke, what day that endilong 1 Bretigne For which she followeth you full busily, Ye remove all the rockes, stone by stone, Right so the sea desireth naturally That they not lett 2 ship nor boat to gon, To follow her, as she that is godd6ss I say, when ye have made this coast so clean Both in the sea and rivers more and less. Of rockes, that there is no stone seen, Wherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request, Then will I love you best of any man; Do this miracle, or do 7 mine hearte brest;18 Have here my troth, in all that ever I can; That now, next at this opposition, For well I wot that it shall ne'er betide. Which in the sign shall be of the Li6n, Let such folly out of your heartS glide. As prayi her so great a flood to bring, What dainty 3 should a man have in his life That five fath6m at least it overspring For to go love another manni's wife, The highest rock in Armoric' Bretagne, That hath her body when that ever him liketh?" And let this flood enduri yearis twain: Aurelius full often sori siketh; 4 Then certes to my lady may I say, " Is there none other grace in you? " quoth he, "Holds your hest,l9 the rockes be away." "No, by that Lord," quoth she, " that maked Lord Phoebus, this miracle do for me, me." Pray her she go no faster course than ye; Woe was Aurelius when that he this heard, I say this, pray your sister that she go And with a sorrowful heart he thus answer'd. No faster course than ye these yeares two: "Madame," quoth he, " this were an impossible. Then shall she be even at full alway, Then must I die of sudden death horrible." And spring-flood laste bothe night and day. And with that word he turned him anon. And but she 20 vouchisafe in such mannere Then came her other friends many a one, To grants me my sov'reign lady dear, And in the alleys roamed up and down, Pray her to sink every rock adown And nothing wist of this conclusi6n, Into her owen darke regiofn But suddenly began to revel new, Under the ground, where Pluto dwelleth in Till that the brighte sun had lost his hue, Or nevermore shall I my lady win. For th' horiz6n had reft the sun his light Thy temple in Delphos will I barefoot seek. (This is as much to say as it was night); Lord Phoebus! see the teares on my cheek And home they go in mirth and in solace; And on my pain have some compassiofn." Save only wretch'd Aurelius, alas! And with that word in sorrow he fell down, He to his house is gone with sorrowful heart. And longi time he lay forth in a trance. He said, he may not from his death astart.- His brother, which that knew of his penance,2Him seemed, that he felt his hearte cold. Up caught him, and to bed he hath him brought. Up to the heav'n his handes gan he hold, Despaired in this torment and this thought And on his knees bare he set him down, Let I this woeful creature lie; And in his raving said his orisofn.6 Choose he for me whe'er22 he will live or die. For very woe out of his wit he braid; 7 Arviragus with health and great honofir He wist not what he spake, but thus he said; (As he that was of chivalry the flow'r) With piteous heart his plaint hath he begun Is come home, and other worthy men. Unto the gods, and first unto the Sun. Oh, blissful art thou now, thou Dorigen! He said; "Apollo! God and governofr Thou hast thy lusty husband in thine arms, Of every plants, herbS, tree, and flow'r, The freshe knight, the worthy man of arms, That giv'st, after thy declinati6n, That loveth thee as his own hearth's life: To each of them his time and his seas6n, Nothing list him to be imaginatif 23 As thine herberow 8 changeth low and high; If any wight had spoke, while he was out, Lord Phoebus! cast thy merciable 9 eye To her of love; he had of that no doubt; 24 On wretch'd Aurelius, which that am but lorn.0l He not intended 25 to no such mattere, Lo, lord, my lady hath my death y-sworn, But danced, jousted, and made merry cheer. Withoute guilt, but 11 thy benignity And thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell, Upon my deadly heart have some pity. And of the sick Aurelius will I tell. For well I wot, Lord Phcebus, if you lest,2 In languor and in torment furious Ye may me helpe, save my lady, best. Two year and more lay wretch'd Aurelius, Now vouchEsafe, that I may you devise 3 Ere any foot on earth he mighte gon; How that I may be holp,l4 and in what wise. Nor comfort in this time had he none, Your blissful sister, Lucina the sheen,15 Save of his brother, which that was a clerk.26 That of the sea is chief goddess and queen,- He knew of all this woe and all this work; Though Neptunus have deity in the sea, For to none other creature certain Yet emperess above him is she;- Of this matter he durst no worde sayn; Ye know well, lord, that, right as her desire Under his breast he bare it more secre Is to be quick'd 6 and lighted of your fire, Than e'er did Pamphilus for Galatee.27 From end to end of. 2 Prevent. 16 Quickened. 17 Cause. 18 Burst. 3 Value, pleasure. 4 Sigheth. 5 Escape. 19 Promise. 20 If she do not. 21 Distress. 6 Prayer 7 Wandered, went. 22 Whether. 23 He cared not to fancy. 8 Dwelling, situation. 9 Compassionate. 24 Fear, suspicion. 25 Occupied himself with. 10 Undone. 11 Unless. 12 Pleaseth. 26 Scholar, man in holy orders. 1s Tell, explain. 14 Helped. 27 In a Latin poem, very popular in Chaucer's time, 15 Diana the bright. See note 17, page 37. Pamphilus relates his amour with Galatea, setting 126 71HE CANTERBURY TALES. His breast was whole without1 for to seen, Unto his brother's bed he comen is, But in his heart aye was the arrow keen, And such comf6rt he gave him, for to gon And well ye know that of a sursanure1 To Orleans, that he upstart anon, In surgery is perilous the cure, And on his way forth-ward then is he fare,15 But2 men might touch the arrow or come In hope for to be lissed16 of his care. thereby. When they were come almost to that city, His brother wept and wailed privily, But if it were 17 a two furlong or three, Till at the last him fell in remembrance, A young clerk roaming by himself they met, That while he was at Orleans3 in France,- Which that in Latin thriftily 8 them gret.19 As younge clerkis, that be likerous 4 And after that he said a wondrous thing; To readen artis that be curious, "I know," quoth he, "the cause of your Seeken in every halk and every hern 5 coming; " Particular sciences for to learn,- And ere they farther any footS went, He him remember'd, that upon a day He told them all that was in their intent. At Orleans in study a book he say 6 The Breton clerk him asked of fellaws Of magic natural, which his fellaw, The which he haddB known in oldi daws,20 That was that time a bachelor of law, And he answ6r'd him that they deade were, All 7 were he there to learn another craft, For which he wept full often many a tear. Had privily upon his desk y-laft; Down off his horse Aurelius light anon, Which book spake much of operati6ns And forth with this magician is he gone Touching the eight-and-twenty mansi6ns Home to his house, and made him well at ease; That longe to the Moon, and such folly Them lacked no vitail that might them please. As in our dayes is not worth a fly; So well-array'd a house as there was one, For holy church's faith, in our believe, Aurelius in his life saw never none. Us suff'reth none illusi6n to grieve. He shewed him, ere they went to suppere, And when this book was in his remembrance, Forest's, parkes, full of wilde deer. Anon for joy his heart began to dance, There saw he hartSs with their horns high, And to himself he saide privily; The greatest that were ever seen with eye. " My brother shall be warish'd 9 hastily: He saw of them an hundred slain with hounds, For I am sicker l that there be sciences, And some with arrows bleed of bitter wounds. By which men maki divers apparences, He saw, when voided 21 were the wilde deer, Such as these subtle tregetoures 1 play. These falconers upon a fair rivere, For oft at feastSs have I well heard say, That with their hawkis have the heron slain. That tregetours, within a halli large, Then saw he knightes jousting in a plain. Have made come in a water and a barge, And after this he did him such pleasance, And in the halle rowen up and down. That he him shew'd his lady on a dance, Sometimes hath seemed come a grim lioun, On which himselfi danced, as him thought. And sometimes flowers spring as in a mead; And when this master, that this magic wrought, Sometimes a vine, and grapes white and red; Saw it was time, he clapp'd his handes two, Sometimes a castle all of lime and stone; And farewell, all the revel is y-go.22 And, when them liked, voided 12 it anon: And yet remov'd they never out of the house, Thus seemed it to every manni's sight. While they saw all the sightes marvellois; Now then conclude I thus; if that I might But in his study, where his bookes be, At Orleans some olde fellow find, They sattB still, and no wight but they three. That hath these Moone's mansions in mind, To him this master called his squi6r, Or other magic natural above, And said him thus, "May we go to supper? He should well make my brother have his love. Almost an hour it is, I undertake, For with an appearfnce a clerk 13 may make, Since I you bade our supper for to make, To manni's sight, that all the rockes blake When that these worthy men wente with me Of Bretagne weri voided 12 every one, Into my study, where my bookes be." And shippes by the brinki come and gon, " Sir," quoth this squier, "when it liketh you, And in such form endure a day or two; It is all ready, though ye will right now." Then were my brother warish'd 9 of his woe, "Go we then sup," quoth he, " as for the best; Then must she needes holde her behest,l4 These amorous folk some tim8 must have rest." Or ellis he shall shame her at the least." At after supper fell they in treaty Why should I make a longer tale of this? What summB should this master's guerdon be, out with the idea adopted by our poet in the lines -in "treget," deceit or imposture-from the French that follow. "trebuchet," a military machine; since it is evident 1 A wound healed on the surface, but festering that much and elaborate machinery must have been beneath. 2 Except. employed to produce the effects afterwards described. 3 Where was a celebrated and very famous univer- Another derivation is from the Low Latin, "tricator," a sity, afterwards eclipsed by that of Paris. It was deceiver. 12 Vanished, removed. founded by Philip le Bel in 1312. 13 Learned man. 4 Eager, curious. 14 Keep her promise. 15 Gone. 5 Every nook and corner. Anglo-Saxon, "healc," 16 Eased of, released from; another form of "less" a nook; "hyrn," a corner. 6 Saw. 7 Though. or "lessen." 17 All but, 18 Civilly. 8 Belief, creed. 9 Cured. 10 Certain. 19 Greeted. 20 Days. 21 Gone, removed. 11 Tricksters, jugglers. The word isprobably derived 22 Passed away. THE FRANKLIN'S TALE.' 27 To remove all the rockes of Bretagne, His tables Toletanes 14 forth he brought, And eke from Gironde 1 to the mouth of Seine. Full well corrected, that there lacked nought, He made it strange,2 and swore, so God him Neither his collect, nor his expanse years, save, Neither his rootes, nor his other gears, Less than a thousand pound he would not have, As be his centres, and his arguments, Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon.3 And his proportional convenients Aurelius with blissful heart anon For his equati6ns in everything. Answered thus; " Fie on a thousand pound! And by his eights spheres in his working, This wide world, which that men say is round, He knew full well how far Alnath15 was shove I would it give, if I were lord of it. From the head of that fix'd Aries above, This bargain is full-driv'n, for we be knit; 4 That in the ninths sphere consider'd is. Ye shall be payed truly by my troth. Full subtilly he calcul'ed all this. But looke, for no negligence or sloth, When he had found his firste mansi6n, Ye tarry us here no longer than to-morrow." He knew the remnant by proporti6n; " Nay," quoth the clerk, " have here my faith And knew the rising of his moone well, to borrow." 5 And in whose fa e, and term, and every deal; To bed is gone Aurelius when him lest, And knew full well the moone's mansion And well-nigh all that night he had'his rest, Accordant to his operati6n; WVhat for his labour, and his hope of bliss, And knew also his other observances, His woeful heart of penance had a liss.6 For such illusions and such mneschances, Upon the morrow, when that it was day, As heathen folk used in thilke days. Unto Bretagne they took the righte way, For which no longer made he delays; Aurelius and this magician beside, But through his magic, for a day or tway,l7 And be descended where they would abide: It seemed all the rockes were away. And this was, as the bookes me remember, Aurelius, which yet despaired is The cold6 frosty season of December. Whe'er 18 he shall have his love, or fare amiss, Phebus wax'd old, and hued like latoun,7 Awaited night and day on this miracle: That in his hotc declinatioin And when he knew that there was none obShone as the burned gold, with streames stacle, bright; That voided 19 were these rockes every one, But now in Capricorn adown he light, Down at his master's feet he fell anon, Where as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn. And said; "I, woeful wretch'd Aurelius, The bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain, Thank you, my Lord, and lady mine Ventis, Destroyed have the green in every yard.9 That me have holpen from my cares cold." Janus sits by the fire with double beard, And to the temple his way forth hath he hold', And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine: Where as he knew he should his lady see. Before him stands the brawn of tusked swine, And when he saw his time, anon right he And "nowel "0 crieth every lusty man. With dreadful20 heart and with full humble Aurelius, in all that ev'r he can, cheer 21 Did to his master cheer and reverence, Saluted hath his sovereign lady dear. And prayed him to do his diligence " My rightful Lady," quoth this woeful man, To brings him out of his paini's smart, " Whom I most dread, and love as I best can, Or with a sword that he would slit his heart. And lothest were of all this world displease, This subtle clerk such ruth 11 had on this man, Vere't not that I for you have such disease,!2 That night and day he sped him, that he can, That I must die here at your foot anon, To wait a time of his conclusi6n; Nought would I tell how me is woebegone. This is to say, to make illusi6n, But certes either must I die or plain; 23 By such an appearance of jugglery Ye slay me guiltiless for very pain. (I know no termis of astrology), But of my death though that ye have no ruth, That she and every wight should ween and say, Advise you, ere that ye break your truth: That of Bretagne the rockes were away, Repenti you, for thilki God above, Or else they werS sunken under ground. Ere ye me slay because that I you love. So at the last he hath a time found For, Madame, well ye wot what ye have hight; 24 To make his japs 12 and his wretchedness Not that I challenge anything of right Of such a superstitious cursedness.'3 Of you, my sovereign lady, but of grace; 1 The river, formed by the union of the Dordogne 12 Tricks. 13 Detestable villany. and Garonne, on which Bourdeaux stands. 14 Toledan tables; the astronomical tables composed 2 A matter of difficulty. See note 38, page 55. by order of Alphonso II., King of Castile, about 1250, 3 And even for that sum he would not willingly go and so called because they were adapted to the city of to work. 4 Agreed. Toledo. 5 I pledge my faith on it. 15 ", Alnath," says Mr Wright, was "the first star in 6 Had a respite, relief, from anguish. the horns of Aries, whence the first mansion of the 7 Coloured like copper or latten. moon is named." 16 Wicked devices. 8 Beams. 9 Court-yard, garden. 17 Another and better reading is "a week or two." 10 "Noel," the French for Christmas-derived from 18 Whether. 19 Removed, "natalis," and signifying that on that day Christ was 20 Fearful. 21 Mien. born-came to be used as a festive cry by the people 22 Distress, affliction. 23 Bewail. on solemn occasions. 1i Pity. 24 Promised. -— rao osc~~ —, b~-~a~ L-~- r*-~- ~Ri~i —-~-b j ~ L —ii~iiii -i~-Vlli —W-I-.-Y~ —— L li=-~ —-------------- 128 THE CANTERB'UR Y TALES. But in a garden yond', in such a place, Of Lacedsemon fifty maidens eke, Ye wot right well what ye behighte me, On which they woulde do their lechery: And in mine hand your trothe plighted ye, But there was none of all that company To love me best; God wot ye saide so, That was not slain, and with a glad intent Albeit that I unworthy am thereto; Chose rather for to die, than to assent Madame, I speak it for th' honouir of you, To be oppressed 10 of her maidenhead. More than to save my hearti's life right now; Why should I then to dien be in dread? I have done so as ye commanded me, Lo, eke the tryrant Aristoclides, And if ye vouch6safe, ye may go see. That lov'd a maiden hight Stimphalides, Do as you list, have your behest in mind, When that her father slain was on a night, For, quick or dead, right there ye shall me find; Unto Diana's temple went she right, In you lies all to do 1 me live or dey;' And hent 11 thy image in her hand6s two, But well I wot the rock6s be away." From which imge she woulde never go; He took his leave, and she astonish'd stood; No wight her hand's might off it arace,l In all her face was not one drop of blood: Till she was slain right in the selfe13 place. She never ween'd t' have come in such a trap. Now since that maidens haddi such despite "Alas! " quoth she, " that ever this should hap! To be defouled with man's foul delight, For ween'd I ne'er, by possibility, Well ought a wife rather herself to s16,14 That such a monster or marvfil might be; Than be defouled, as it thinketh me. It is against the process of natfire." What shall I say of Hasdrubale's wife, And home she went a sorrowful creatufre; That at Carthage bereft herself of life? For very fear unnethes 3 may she go.. For, when she saw the Romans win the town, She weeped, wailed, all a day or two, She took her children all, and skipt adown And swooned, that it ruthe was to see: Into the fire, and rather chose to die, But why it was, to no wight tolde she, Than any Roman did her villainy. For out of town was gone Arviragus. Hath not Lucretia slain herself, alas! But to herself she spake, and saide thus, At Romi, when that she oppressed 15 was With face pale, and full sorrowful cheer, Of Tarquin? for her thought it was a shame In her complaint, as ye shall after hear. To livi, when she haddi lost her name. "Alas!" quoth she, "on thee, Fortfine, I The seven maidens of Milesie also plain,4 Have slain themselves for very dread and woe, That unware hast me wrapped in thy chain, Rather than folk of Gaul them should oppress. From which to scape, wot I no succofir, More than a thousand stories, as I guess, Save only death, or elles dishonour; Could I now tell as touching this mattere. One of these two behoveth me to choose. When Abradate was slain, his wife so dear 16 But natheless, yet had I lever 5 lose Herselfe slew, and let her blood to glide My life, than of my body have shame, In Abradati's woundes, deep and wide, Or know myselfi false, or lose my name; And said,' My body at the leaste way And with my death I may be quit y-wis.6 There shall no wight defoul, if that I may.' Hath there not many a noble wife, ere this, Why should I more examples hereof sayn? And many a maiden, slain herself, alas! Since that so many have themselves slain, Rather than with her body do trespass? Well rather than they would defouled be, Yes, certes; lo, these stories bear witn6ss.7 I will conclude that it is betl for me When thirty tyrants full of cursedness 8 To slay myself, than be defouled thus. Had slain Phidon in Athens at the feast, I will be true unto Arviragus, They commanded his daughters to arrest, Or elles slay myself in some mannere, And bringe them before them, in despite, As did DemotionS's daughter dear, All naked, to fulfil their foul delight; Because she woulde not defouled be. And in their father's blood they made them 0 Sedasus, it is full great pity dance To reade how thy daughters died, alas! Uponthe pavement,-God give them mischance. That slew themselves for such6 manner cas.18 For which these woeful maidens, full of dread, As great a pity was it, or well more, Rather than they would lose their maiden- The Theban maiden, that for Nican6r head, Herselfe slew, right for such manner woe. They privily be start 9 into a well, Another Theban maiden did right so; And drowned themselves, as the bookes tell. For one of Macedon had her oppress'd, They of Messen6 let inquire and seek She with her death her maidenhead redress'd.19 1 Cause. 2 Die. 3 Scarcely. 14 Slay. 15 Ravished. 4 Complain. 5 Sooner, rather. 16 Panthea. Abradatas, King of Susa, was an ally of 6 I may certainly purchase my exemption, the Assyrians against Cyrus; and his wife was taken at 7 They are all taken from the book of St Jerome the conquest of the Assyrian camp. Struck by the "Contra Jovinianum," from which the Wife of Bath honourable treatment she received atthecaptor's hands, drew so many of her ancient instances. See note 5, Abradatas joined Cyrus, and fell in battle against his page 71. 8 Wickedness. former allies. His wife, inconsolable at his loss, slew 9 Suddenly leaped. 10 Forcibly bereft. herself immediately. 17 Better. 11 Caught, clasped. 18 In circumstances of the same kind. 12 Pluck away by force. 13 Same. 19 Avenged, vindicated. THE FRANKLIN'S YALE. 129 What shall I say of Niceratus' wife, "And bringe her to such a place anon." That for such case bereft herself her life? They take their leave, and on their way they How true was eke to Alcibiades gon: His love, that for to dien rather chese,l But they not wiste why she thither went; Than for to suffer his body unburied be? He would to no wight telle his intent. Lo, what a wife was Alceste?" quoth she. This squiir, which that hight Aurelius, "What saith Homer of good Penelope? On Dorigen that was so amorous, All Greece knoweth of her chastity. Of aventfire happen'd her to meet Pardie, of Laodamia is written thus, Amid the town, right in the quickest 14 street, That when at Troy was slain Protesilaus,2 As she was bound 5 to go the way forthright No longer would she live after his day. Toward the garden, there as she had hight.l1 The same of noble Porcia tell I may; And he was to the garden-ward also; Withoute Brutus coulde she not live, For well he spied when she wouldd go To whom she did all whole her hearte give.3 Out of her house, to any manner place; The perfect wifehood of Artemisie 4 But thus they met, of aventfre or grace, Honoired is throughout all Barbarie. And he saluted her with glad intent, O Teuta 5 queen, thy wifely chastity And asked of her whitherward she went. To alle wives may a mirror be." 6 And she answered, half as she were mad, Thus plained Dorigen a day or tway, " Unto the garden, as my husband bade, Purposing ever that she woulde dey; 7 My trothe for to hold, alas! alas! " But natheless upon the thirde night Aurelius gan to wonder on this case, Home came Arviragus, the worthy knight, And in his heart had great compassi6n And asked her why that she wept so sore? Of her, and of her lamentati6n, And she gan weepen ever longer more. And of Arviragus, the worthy knight, "Alas," quoth she, " that ever I was born! That bade her hold all that she hadde hight; Thus have I said," quoth she; "thus have I So loth him was his wife should break her truth. sworn." And in his heart he caught of it great ruth,17 And told him all, as ye have heard before: Considering the best on every side, It needeth not rehearse it you no more. That from his lust yet were him lever 8 abide, This husband with glad cheer,8 in friendly wise, Than do so high a churlish wretchedness 19 Answ6r'd and said, as I shall you devise.9 Against franchise,0 and alld gentleness; " Is there aught elles, Dorigen, but this?" For which in fewi words he saide thus; "Nay, nay," quoth she, " God help me so, as "Madame, say to your lord Arviragus, wis 10 That since I see the greate gentleness This is too much, an' 1 it were GoddB's will." Of him, and eke I see well your distress, "Yea, wife," quoth he, "let sleepB what is still, That him were leverl8 have shame (and that It may be well par'venture yet to-day. were ruth 17) Ye shall your trothe holdS, by my fay. Than ye to me should breake thus your truth, For, God so wisly12 have mercy on me, I had well lever aye to suffer woe, I had well lever sticked fr to be, Than to depart 21 the love betwixt you two. For very love which I to you have, I you release, Madame, into your hond, But if ye should your trothe keep and save. Quit ev'ry surement 22 and ev'ry bond, Truth is the highest thing that man may keep." That ye have made to me as herebeforn, But with that word he burst anon to weep, Since thilke time that ye were born. And said; " I you forbid, on pain of death, Have here my truth, I shall you ne'er repreve 23 That never, while you lasteth life or breath, Of no behest;24 and here I take my leave, To no wight tell ye this misaventfire; As of the truest and the beste wife As I may best, I will my woe endure, That ever yet I knew in all my life. Nor make no countenance of heaviness, But every wife beware of her behest; That folk of you may deeme harm, or guess." On Dorigen remember at the least. And forth he call'd a squier and a maid. Thus can a squier do a gentle deed, "Go forth anon with Dorigen," he said, As well as can a knight, withoute drede." 25 1 Chose. 5 Queen of Illyria, who, after her husband's death, 2 Her husband. She begged the gods, after his made war on and was conquered by the Romans, B.c. death, that but three hours' converse with him might 228. be allowed her; the request was granted; and when 6 At this point, in some manuscripts, occur the her dead husband, at the expiry of the time, returned following two lines:to the world of shades, she bore him company. "The same thing I say of Bilia, 3 The daughter of Cato of Utica, Porcia married Of Rhodogonend of Vleria. Marcus Brutus, the friend and the assassin of Julius Caesar; when her husband died by his own hand after 7 Die. 8 Demeanour. 9 Relate. the battle of Philippi, she committed suicide, it is said, 10 Assuredly. 1l I. 12 Certainly. by swallowing live coals-all other means having been 13 I had rather be slain. 14 Readiest. removed by her friends. 15 Prepared; going. To a boun" or "bown" is a 4 Artemisia, Queen of Caria, who built to her bus- good old word, whence comes our word "' bound," in band, Mausolus, the splendid monument which was ac- the sense of "on the way." 16 Promised. counted among the wonders of the world; and who 17 Pity. 18 Rather. 19 Rude outrage. mingled her husband's ashes with her daily drink. 20 Generosity. 21 Sunder, split up. "Barbarie" is used in the Greek sense, to designate 22 Surety. 23 Reproach. the non-Hellenic peoples of Asia. 24 Of no (breach of) promise. 25 Doubt. I 130 THE CANTERBURY TALES. She thanked him upon her knees bare, And that she lever had lost that day her life; And home unto her husband is she fare,' And that her troth she swore through innocence; And told him all, as ye have hearde said; She ne'er erstl3 had heard speak of appar6nce; 14 And, truste me, he was so well apaid,2 That made me have of her so great pity, That it were impossible me to write. And right as freely as he sent her to me, Why should I longer of this case indite? As freely sent I her to him again: Arviragus and Dorigen his wife This is all and some, there is no more to sayn.' In sov'reign blisse leddi forth their life; The philos6pher answer'd; " LevB 1 brother, Ne'er after was there anger them between; Evereach of you did gently to the other; He cherish'd her as though she were a queen, Thou art a squier, and he is a knight, And she was to him true for evermore; But God forbidd6, for his blissful might, Of these two folk ye get of me no more. But if a clerk could do a gentle deed Aurelius, that his cost had all forlorn,3 As well as any of you, it is no drede.16 Cursed the time that ever he was born. Sir, I release thee thy thousand pound, "Alas! " quoth he, " alas that I behight 4 As thou right now were crept out of the ground, Of pured 5 gold a thousand pound of weight Nor ever ere now haddest knowen me. To this philosopher! how shall I do? For, Sir, I will not take a penny of thee I see no more, but that I am folrdo.6 For all my craft, nor naught for my travail; 17 Mine heritage must I needes sell, Thou hast y-payed well for my vitaille; And be a beggar; here I will not dwell, It is enough; and farewell, have good day." And shamen all my kindred in this place, And took his horse, and forth he went his way. But 7 I of him may gettd better grace. Lordings, this question would I aske now, But natheless I will of him assay Which was the moste free,'8 as thinketh you? At certain dayes year by year to pay, Now telle me, ere that ye farther wend. And thank him of his greate courtesy. I can 19 no more, my tale is at an end. My trothi will I keep, I will not lie." With hearte sore he went unto his coffer, And broughte gold unto this philos6pher, The value of five hundred pound, I guess, And him beseeched, of his gentleness, THE DOCTOR'S TALE.~ To grant him dayes of 8 the remenant; And said; " Master, I dare well make avaunt, THE PROLOGUE. I failed never of my truth as yet. For sickerly my debte shall be quit [ YEA, let that passe," quoth our gost, "as Towardes you, how so that e'er I fare now. Tq go a-begging in my kirtle bare: Sir Doctor of Physik, I prayi you, But would ye vouchisafe, upon surety, Tell us a tale of some honest matt6re." Two year, or three, for to respite me, L" It shall be done, if that ye will it hear," Two year, or three, for to respite me, S thi D a^ i tl g a Then were I well, for elles must I sell Said this Doctr; and his tale gan anon. Mine heritage; there is no more to tell." Now, good men," quoth he, " hearken every This philosopher soberly9 answer'd, ne."J And saide thus, when he these wordes heard; " Have I not holden covenant to thee?" THE ALE. " Yes, certes, well and truely," quoth he. " Hast thou not had thy lady as thee liked'? There was, as telleth Titus Livius,2 "No, no," quoth he, and sorrowfully siked.l0 A knight, that called was Virginius, "What was the cause? tell me if thou can." Full filled of honoir and worthiness, Aurelius his tale anon began, And strong of friendes, and of great rich6ss. And told him all as ye have heard before, This knight one daughter hadde by his wife; It needeth not to you rehearse it more. No children had he more in all his life. He said, " Arviragus of gentleness Fair was this maid in excellent beauty Had lever 1 die in sorrow and distress, Aboven ev'ry twight that man may see: Than that his wife were of her trothe false." For nature had w{ih sov'reign diligence The sorrow of Dorigen he told him als', Y-formed her in so great excellence, How loth her was to be a wicked wife, As though she woulde say, " Lo, I, Nature, 1 Gone. 2 Satisfied. 3 Utterly lost. which it was the fashion to propose for debate in the 4 Promised. 5 Purified, refined. mediaeval "courts of love." 19 Know, can tell. 6 Ruined, undone. 7 Unless. 20 The authenticity of the prologue is questionable. 8 Time to pay up. 9 Gravely. 10 Sighed. It is found in one manuscript only; other manuscripts 11 Rather. 12 Also. 13 Before. give other prologues, more plainly not Chaucer's than 14 Such an ocular deception, or apparition-more pro- this; and some manuscripts have merely a colophon to perly, disappearance-as the removal of the rocks. the effect that " Here endeth the Franklin's Tale and 15 Dear. 16 Doubt. beginneth the Physician's Tale without a prologue." 17 Labour, pains. The Tale itself is the well-known story of Virginia, with 18 Generous, liberal; the same question is stated at several departures from the text of Livy. Chaucer the end of Boccaccio's version of the story in the probably followed the "Romance of the Rose" and " Philocopo," where the queen determines in favour Gower's "Confessio Amantis," in both of which the of Arviragus. The question is evidently one of those story is found. 21 Livy, Book iii. cap. 44, et seqq. THE DOCTOR'S TALE. 131 Thus can I form and paint a creatfre, For all too soone may she learne lore When that me list; who can me counterfeit? Of boldeness, when that she is a wife. Pygmalion? no-hough he aye forge and beat, And ye mistresses, in your olde life Or grave, or painte: for I dare well sayn, That lordes' daughters have in governance, Apelles, Zeuxis, shouldi work in vain, Taki not of my wordes displeasance: Either to grave, or paint, or forge, or beat, Thinke that ye be set in governings If they presumed me to counterfeit. Of lordes? daughters only for two things; For he that is the former principal, Either for ye have kept your honesty, Hath made me his vicar-general Or else for ye have fallen in frailt4 To form and painten earthly creatfres And knowi well enough the oldi dance, Right as me list, and all thing in my cure is, And have forsaken fully such meschance 12 Under the moonS, that may wane and wax. For evermore; therefore, for Christe's sake, And for my work right nothing will I ax;2 To teach them virtue look that ye not slake.'l My lord and I be full of one accord. A thief of venison, that hath forlaft 4 I made her to the worship 3 of my lord; His lik'rousness,l5 and all his oidi craft, So do I all mine other creatures, Can keep a forest best of any man; What colour that they have, or what figures." Now keep them well, for if ye will ye can. Thus seemeth me that Nature woulde say. Look well, that ye unto no vice assent, This maiden was of age twelve year and Lest ye be damned for your wick' 16 intent, tway, For whoso doth, a traitor is certain; In which that Nature hadd6 such delight. And take keep 7 of that I shall you sayn; For right as she can paint a lily white, Of alld treason, sov'reign pestilence And red a rose, right with such paintlre Is when a wight betrayeth innocence. She painted had this noble creatfre, Ye fathersl-ad ye mothers eke also, Ere she was born, upon her limbes free, Though ye have children, be it one or mo', Where as by right such colours shoulde be: Yours is the charge of all their surveyanc e,'l And Phoebus dyed had her tresses great, While that they be under your governance. Like to the streamis 4 of his burned heat. Beware, that by example of your living, And if that excellent was her beauty, Or by your negligence in chastising, A thousand-fold more virtuous was she. That they not perish: for I dare well say, In her there lacked no conditi6n, If that they do, ye shall it dear abeye.l9 That is to praise, as by discreti6n. Under a shepherd soft and negligent As well in ghost 5 as body chaste was she: The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to-rent. For which she flower'd in virginity, Suffice this example now as here, With all humility and abstinence, For I must turn again to my mattgre. With alle temperance and patience, This maid, of which I tell my tale express, With measure 6 eke of bearing and array. She kept herself, her needed no mistress; Discreetse7 wvas in answering alway, For in her living maidens mighte read, Though she were wise as Pallas, dare I sayn; As in a book, ev'ry good word and deed Her sonde 7 eke full womanly and plain, That longeth to a maiden virtuous; No ounterfeited termis -hadde she She was so prudent and so bounteous. To seeme wise; but after her degree For which the fame out sprang on every side She spake, and all her wordes more and less Both of her beauty and her bount 20 wide: Sounding in virtue and in gentleness. That through the land they praised her each one Shamefast she was in maiden's shamefastness, That loved virtue, save envy alone, Constant in heart, and ever in business 8 That sorry is of other manne's weal, To drive her out of idle sluggardy: And glad is of his sorrow and unheal.21Bacchus had of her mouth right no mast'rW. The Doctor maketh this descriptiofin.2For wine and slothe 9 do Veniss ncrease, This maiden on a day went in the town As men in fire will casten oil and grease. Toward a temple, with her mother dear, And of her owen virtue, unconstrain'd, As is of younge maidens the mannere. She had herself full often sick y-feign'd, Now was there then a justice in that town, For that she woulde flee the company, That governor was of that regiofin: Where likely was to treaten of folly, And so befell, this judge his eyen cast As is at feasts, at revels, and at dances, Upon this maid, avising 3 her full fast, That be occasi6ns of dalliances. As she came forth by where this judgi stood; Such thingis make children for to be Anon his hearte changed and his mood, Too soone ripe and bold, as men may see, So was he caught with beauty of this maid Which is full perilous, and hath been yore;10 And to himself full privily he said, 1 Care. 2 Ask. 13 Be slack, fail. 14 Forsaken, left. 3 Glory. 4 Beams, rays. 15 Gluttony. 16 Wicked, evil. 5 Mind, spirit. 6 Moderation. 17 Heed. 18 Oversight. 7 Utterance, speech; from Latin, "facundia," elo- 19 Pay for, suffer for. 20 Goodness. quence. 8 Diligent, eager. 21 Misfortune. 9 Other readings are " thought " and " youth." 22 This line seems to be a kind of aside thrown in 10 Of old. 11 Governesses, duennas. by Chaucer himself. 12 Wickedness; French, "mechancete." 23 Observing. 132 THE CANTERBURY TALES. "This maiden shall be mine for any man." By witness, lord, so that it you not grieve; 15 Anon the fiend into his hearte ran, She is his daughter not, what so he say. And taught him suddenly, that he by sleight>j Wherefore to you, my lord the judge, I pray, This maiden to his purpose winne might.'A Yield me m thrall, if that it be your will." For certes, by no force, nor by no meed,1 Lo, this was l1 the sentence of the bill. Him thought he was not able for to speed; Virginius gan upon the clerk behold; For she was strong of friendes, and eke she But hastily, ere he his tale told, Confirmed was in such sov'reign bounte, And would have proved it, as should a knight, That well he wist he migEr'ie7r never win, And eke by witnessing of many a wight, - As for to make her with her body sin. That all was false that said his adversa y, For which, with great deliberatioin, This cursed 16 judge would no longer tarry, He sent after a clerk 2 was in the town, Nor hear a word more of Virginius, The which he knew for subtle and for bold. But gave his judgiment, and saidd thus: This judge unto this clerk his tale told " I deem 17 anon this clerk his servant have; In secret wise, and made him to assure Thou shalt no longer in thy house her save. He shoulde tell it to no creature, Go, bring her forth, and put her in our ward; And if he did, he shouldi lose his head. The clerk shall have his thrall: thus I award." And when assented was this cursed rede,3 And when this worthy knight, Virginius, Glad was the judge, and made him greate cheer, Through sentence of this justice Appius, And gave him giftes precious and dear. Muste by force his deare daughter give When shapen 4 was all their conspiracy Unto the judge, in lechery to live, From pointtoToint, how that his lechery He went him home, aandsat him in his hall, Performed shoulde be full subtilly, And let anon his dearB daughter call; _ As ye shall hear it after openly, And with a faci dead as ashes cold Home went this clerk, that highte Claudius. Upon her humble face he gan behold, This fals3 judge, that highte Appius,- With father's pity sticking 18 through his heart, (So was his name, for it is no fable, All'l would he from his purpose not convert.20 -"But knowen for a storial 5 thing notable; "Daughter," quoth he, " Virginia by name, The sentence6 of it so 7liis 6utitf-doubt);- There be two wayes, either death or shame, This false judge went now fast about That thou must suffer,-alas that I was bore! To hasten his delight all that he may. For never thou deservedest wherefore And so befell, soon after on a day, To dien with a sword or with a knife. This falsi judge, as telleth us the story, O deare daughter, ender of my life, As he was wont, sat in his consist6ry, Whom I have foster'd up with such pleasance And gave his doomes 8 upon sundry case'; That thou were ne'er out of my remembrance, This false cler-k-cfMe forth a full great pace,9 0 daughter, which that art my laste woe, And saide; "Lord, if that it be your will, And in this life my laste joy also, As do me right upon this piteous bill,l' O gem of chastity, in patience In which lain upon Virginius. Take thou thy death, for this is my sent6nce: And if that e-will say it is not thus, For love and not for hate thou must be dead; I will it prove, and find5 good witness, My piteous hand must smiten off thine head. That sooth is what my bille will express." Alas, that ever Appius thee say! 21 The judge answer'd, " Of this, in his absence, Thus hath he falsely judged thee to-day." I may not give definitive sentence. And told "her all the case, as ye before Let do 11 him call, and I will gladly hear; Have heard; it needeth not to tell it more. Thou shalt have all right, and no wrong here." " mercy, deare father," quoth the maid. Virginius came to weet 12 the judge's will, And with that word she both her armis laid And right anon was read this cursed bill; About his neck, as she was wont to do, The sentence of it was as ye shall hear: (The tearis burst out of her eyen two), " To you, my lord, Sir Appius so dear, And said, " O goodi father, shall I die? Sheweth your poore servant Claudius, Is there no grace? is there no remedy?" How that a knight called Virginius, "No, certes, deare daughter mine," quoth he. Against the law, against all equity, "Then give me leisure, father mine," quoth Holdeth, express against the will of me, she, My servant, which that is my thrall 3 by right, "My death for to complain 22 a little space: Which from my house was stolen on a night, For, pardie, Jephthah gave his daughter grace While that she was full young; I will it preve 14 For to complain, ere he her slew, alas! 23 1 Bribe, reward. 8 Judgments. 9 In haste. 10 Petition. 2 The various readings of this word are " churl," or 11 Cause. 12 Know, learn. 13 Slave. "cherl," in the best manuscripts; "client" in the 14 Prove. 15 Be not displeasing. common editions; and "clerk," supported by two im- 16 Villainous. 17 Pronounce, determine. portant manuscripts. " Client" would perhaps be the 18 Piercing. 19 Although. best reading, if it were not awkward for the metre; 20 Swerve, turn aside. 21 Saw. but between " churl" and "clerk" there can be little 22 Bewail. doubt that Mr Wright chose wisely when he preferred 23 Judges xi. 37, 38.:' And she said unto her father, the second. 3 Counsel, plot. Let.... me alone two months, that I may go up and 4 Arranged. 5 Historical, authentic. down upon the mountains, and bewail my virginity, I Diiscourse, account. 7 True, and my fellows. And he said, Go." THE PARDONER'S tAL. 133 -And, God it wot, nothing was her trespass,' This was a cursed thief, a false justice. But for she ran her father first to see, As shameful death as hearte can devise To welcome him with great solemnity." Come to these judges and their advoca's.15 And with that word she fell a-swoon anon; Algate 16 this sely 7 maid is slain, alas! And after, when her swooning was y-gone, Alas! too deare bought 8 she her beauty. She rose up, and unto her father said: Wherefore I say, that all day man may see " Blessed be God, that I shall die a maid. That giftes of fortfine and of natfire Give me my death, ere that I have shame; Be cause of death to many a creatfire. Do with your child your will, in Godde's name." Her beauty was her death, I dare well sayn; And with that word she prayed him full oft Alas! so piteously as she was slain. That with his sword he would6 smite her soft; [Of bothe giftes, that I speak of now, And with that word, a-swoon again she fell. Men have full often mori harm than prow.'9] ier father, with full sorrowful heart and fell,2 But truely, mine owen master dear, Her head off smote, and by the top it hent,3 This was a piteous tale for to hear; And to the judge he went it to present, But natheless, pass over;'tis no force.20 As he sat yet in doom 4 in consist6ry. I pray to God to save thy gentle corse,21 And when the judge it saw, as saith the story, And eke thine urinals, and thy jordans, He bade to take him, and to hang him fast. Thine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens,?2 But right anon a thousand people in thrast 5 And every boist 23 full of thy lectuary, To save the knight, for ruth and for pity, God bless them, and our lady Sainte Mary. For knowen was the false iniquity. So may I the,24 thou art a proper man, The people anon had suspect 6 in this thing, And like a prelate, by Saint Ronian; By manner of the clerke's challenging, Said I not well? can I not speak in term?25 That it was by th' assent of Appius; But well I wot, thou dost26 mine heart to erme,27 They wiste well that he was lecherous. That I have almost caught a cardiacle: 8 For which. unto this Appius they gon, By corpus Domini, but 29 I have triacle,30 And cast him in a prison right anon, Or else a draught of moist and corny 31 ale, /Where as he slew himself: and Claudius, Or but 29 I hear anon a merry tale, That servant was unto this Appius, Mine heart is brost 32 for pity of this maid. Was doomed for to hang upon a tree; Thou bel ami, thou Pardoner," he said, But that Virginius, of his pity, "Tell us some mirth of japes33 right anon." So prayed for him, that he was exil'd; "It shall be done," quoth he, " by Saint Ronion. And elles certes had he been beguiPld;7 But first," quoth he, " here at this ale-stake 3 The remenant were hanged, more and less, I will both drink, and biten on a cake." That were consenting to this cursedness.8 But right anon the gentles gan to cry, Here men may see how sin hath his merite: 9 " Nay, let him tell us of no ribaldry. Beware, for no man knows how God will smite Tell us some moral thing, that we may lear 3 In no degree, nor in which manner wise Some wit,36 and thenne will we gladly hear." The worm of consci6nci may agrise "I grant y-wis,"37 quoth he; "but I must Of 10 wicked life, though it so privy be, think That no man knows thereof, save God and he; Upon some honest thing while that I drink." For be he lewid man or elles lear'd,ll He knows not how soon he shall be afear'd; TEE TALE.38 Therefore I red 12 you this counsel take, Forsake sin, ere sinne you forsake. Lordings (quoth he), in churche when I preach, I paine me 9'to have an hautein 40 speech, And ring it out, as round as doth a bell, THE PARDONER'S TALE. For I know all by rot5 that I tell. My theme is always one, and ever was; THE PROLOGUE. Radix malorum est cupiditas.41 OUR Hoste gan to swear as he were wood; 3 First I pronounce whence that I come, "Harow! "i quoth he, " by nailes and by blood,l4 And then my bulles shew I all and some; 1 Offence. 2 Stem, cruel. 3 Took. 24 Thrive. 25 In set form. 26 Makest. 4 Judgment. 5 Thrust. 6 Suspicion. 27 Grieve; from Anglo-Saxon, " earme," wretched. 7 " Cast into gaol," according.to Vlrry's explanation; 28 Heartache: from Greek, eap&cXa\yta. though we should probably understand that, if Claudius 29 Unless. 30 A remedy. had not been sent out of the country, his death would 31 New and strong, nappy. As to' moist," see note have been secretly contrived through private detesta- 9, page 22. 32 Broken, burst. 33 Jokes. tion. 8 Villainy. 9 Desert. 34 Ale-house sign. 35 Learn. o1 Cause a man to tremble because of. 36 Wisdom, sense. 37 Surely. 11 Illiterate or learned. 12 Advise. 13 Mad. 38 The outline of this Tale is to be found in the 14 The nails and blood of Christ, by which it was then " Cento Novelle Antiche," but the original is now lost. a fashion to swear. As in the case of the Wife of Bath's Tale, there is a 15 Counsellors; those who aid their undertakings. long prologue, but in this case it has been treated as 16 Nevertheless. 17 Innocent. part of the Tale. 18 Paid for, suffered for. 19 Profit. 39 Take pains, make an effort. 20 No matter. 21 Body. 40 Loud, lofty; from French, "'hautain." 22 See note 1, page 22. 41 " The love of money is the root of all evil" (1 Tim. 23 Box; French, "boite," old form " boiste." vi. 10). 134 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Our liegB lorde's seal on my pat6nt, And east and west upon the people I beck, ThiaET~Es'wTfirst, my body to warrent,l As doth a dove, sitting on a bern; 15 That no man be so hardy, priest nor clerk, My handes and my tongue go so yern,16 Me to disturb of Christe's holy werk. That it is joy to see my business. And after that then tell I forth my tales. Of avarice and of such cursedness 17 Bulles of popes, and of cardinales, Is all my preaching, for to make them free Of patriarchs, and of bish6ps I shew, To give their pence, and namely 8 unto me. And in Latin I speak a wordes few, For mine intent is not but for to win,.. To savour with my predicati6n, And nothing for correcti6n of sin. And for to stir men to devoti6n Ireckeever, when that they be buried,. Then shew I forth my longe crystal stones, Thoug that their souls go a blackburied.19 g Y-crammed full ochQluts 2 an trtn S For certes many a predicati6n Relics they be, as weene they 3 each one. Cometh oft-time of evil intenti6n; 0 Then have I in latoun4 a shoulder-bone Some for pleasance of folk, and flattery, Which that was of a holy Jewe's sheep. To be advanced by hypocrisy; "Good men," say I, " take of my wordis keep; 5 And some for vainglory, and some for hate. If that this bone be wash'd in any well, For, when I dare not otherwise debate, If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swell, Then will I sting him with my tbngue smart 21 That any worm hath eat, or worm~y- ung, In preaching, so that he shall not astart 22 Take water of that well, and wash his tongue, To be defamed falsely, if that he And it is whole anon; and farthermore Hath trespass'd 23 to my brethren or to me. O 0qk.is, and of scab, and every sore For, though I telle not his proper name, Shall every sheep be whole, that of this well Men shall well knowe that it is the same Drinketh a draught; take keep 5 of that I tell. By signes, and by other circumstances. "If that the goodman, that the beastes oweth,6 Thus quite I 24 folk that do us displeasances: Will every week, ere that the cock him croweth, Thus spit I out my venom, under hue Fasting, y-drinken of this well a draught, Of holiness, to seem holy and true. As thilke holy Jew our elders taught, But, shortly mine intent T will devise, His beastes and his store shall multiply. I preach of nothing but of covetise. And, Sirs, also it healeth jealousy, Thereforemy theme is yet, and ever was,For though a man be fall'n in jealous rage, Radix malorum est cupiditas. Let make with this water his pottage, Thus can I preach against the same vice And never shall he more his wife mistrist,7 Which that I use, and that is avarice. Though he the sooth of her defaulti wist; But though myself be guilty in that sin, All 8 had she taken priestes two or three. Yet can I maken other folk to twin 25 Here is a mittain 9 eke, that ye may see; From avarice, and sore them repent. He that his hand will put in this mittain, But that is not my principal intent; He shall have multiplying of his grain, I preachB nothing but for covetise. When he hath sowen, be it wheat or oats, Of this mattere it ought enough suffice. So that he offer pence, or elles groats. Then tell I them examples many a one, And, men and women, one thing warn I you; Of olde stories longe time gone; If any wight be in this churchi now For lewed 26 people love tales old; That ha~tffdone sin horrible, so that he Such thingis can they well report and hold. Dare not for shame of it y-shriven 10 be; What? trow6 ye, that whiles I may preach Or any woman, be she young or old, And wimne gold and silver for 27 I teach, That hath y-made her husband cokiwold,l That I will live in povert' wilfully? Such folk shall have no power nor no grace Nay, nay, I thought it never truely. To offer to my relics in this place. For I will preach and beg in sundry lands; And whoso findeth him out of such blame, I will not do no labour with mine hands, He will come up and offer in God's name; Nor make baskets for to live thereby, And I assoil him by the authority Because I will not beggen idlely. Which that by bull y-granted was to me." I will none of the apostles counterfeit; 28 By this gaud 2 have I wonne year by year I will have money, wool, and cheese, and wheat, A hundred marks, since I was pardonere. All 8 were it given of the poorest page, I stande like a clerk in my pulpit, Or of the poorest widow in a villdge: And when the lewed 13 people down is set, All 8 should her children sterve 29 for famine. I preache so as ye have heard before, Nay, I will drink the liquor of the vine, And telli them a hundred japes 14 more. And have a jolly wench in every town. Then pain I me to stretche forth my neck, But hearken, lordings, in conclusioin; 1 For the protection of my person. probably a periphrastic and picturesque way of indi2 Rags, fragments. 3 As my auditors think. cating damnation. 4 Brass. 5 Heed. 6 Owneth. 20 Preaching is often inspired by evil motives. 7 Mistrust. 8 Although. 9 Glove, mitten. 21 Sharply. 22 Escape. 23 Offended. 10 Confessed. 11 Cuckold. 12 Jest, trick. 24 Am I revenged on. 25 Depart. 13 Ignorant. 14 Jests. 15 Barn. 26 Unlearned. 27 Because. 16 Briskly. 17 Wickedness. 18 Especially. 28 In respect of the poverty enjoined on and prac19 The meaning of this is not very clear, but it is tised by them. 29 Die. THE PARDONER'S TALE. I3' Your liking is, that I shall tell a tale. From Paradise, to labour and to woe, Now I have drunk a draught of corny ale, Were driven for that vice, it is no dread.l8 By God, I hope I shall you tell a thing For while that Adam fasted, as I read, That shall by reason be to your liking; He was in Paradise; and when that he For though myself be a full vicious man, Ate of the fruit defended 19 of the tree, A moral tale yet I you telle can, Anon he was cast out to woe and pain. Which I am wont to preache, for to win. O gluttony! well ought us on thee plain. Now hold your peace, my tale I will begin. Oh! wist a man how many maladies Follow of 6xcess and of gluttonies, In Flanders whilom was a company He woulde be the more measurable 20 Of younge folkes, that haunted folly, Of his dieti, sitting at his table. As riot, hazard, stewes, and taverns; Alas! the shorti throat, the tender mouth, Whieres with lutes, harplis, and git6rns,1 Maketh thlia anta d west, and northi and south, They dance and play at dice both day and night, In earth, in air, in water, men do swink 21 And eat also, and drink over their might; To get a glutton dainty meat and drink. Through which they do the devil sacrifice Of this matt6re, O Paul! well canst hho treat. Within the devil's temple, in cursed wise,' Meat unto womb, and womb eke unto meat, By superfluity abominable.' Shall God destroye both, as Paulus saith.22 Their oathis be so great and so damnable, Alas! a foul thing is it, by my faith, That it is grisly 2 for to hear them swear. To say this word, and fouler is the deed, Our blissful Lorde's body they to-tear;3 WVhen man so drinketh of the white and red,23 Them thought the Jewes rent him not enough; That of his throat he maketh his priv And each of them at other's sinnd lough.4 Through thilke cursed superfluidy And right anon in come tombesteres 5 The apostle saith,24 weeping full piteously, _etis and small, and youngi frulitestere.7 There walk many, of which you told have I,Singers with harpes, baudes,8 waferers9 I say it now weeping with piteous voice,Which be the very devil's offiers, That they be enemies of Christe's crois;25 To kindle and blow the fire of lechery, Of which the end is death; womb is their God. That is annexed unto gluttony. 0 womb, 0 belly, stinking is tliy cod, 26 The Holy Writ take I to my witn6ss, Full fill'd of dung and of corruptioun; That luxury is in wine and drunkenness.l0 At either end of thee foul is the soun'. Lo, how that drunken Lot unkindilyll How great labour and cost is thee to find! 27 Lay by his daughters two unwittingly, These cookes how they stamp, and strain, and So drunk he was he knew not what he wrought. grind, Her6des, who so well the stories sought,2 And turne substance into accidents When he of wine replete was at his feast, To ffifil all thy likerous talent I Right at his owen table gave his hest 13 Out of the harde bones knocke they To slay the Baptist John full guilteless. The marrow, for they caste naught away Seneca saith a good word, doubteless: That may go through the gullet soft and swoot;28 He saith he can no difference find Of spicery and leaves, of bark and root, Betwixt a man that is out of his mind, Shall be his sauce y-maked by delight,'And a man whiche that is drunkelew:14 To make him have a newer appetite.~ But that woodness,l5 y-fallen in a shrew,16 But, certes, he that haunteth such delices Persevereth longer than drunkenness. Is dead while that he liveth in those vices. O gluttony, full of all cursedness; A lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness O cause first of our confusi6n, Is full of striving and of wretchedness. Original of our damnati6n, O drunken man! disfigur'd is thy face,29 Till Christ had bought us with his blood again! Sour is thy breath, foul art thou to embrace: Looke, how deare, shortly for to sayn, And through thy drunken nose sowneth the Aboughtl7 was first this cursed villainy: soun', Corrupt was all this world for gluttony. As though thou saidest aye, Samsofn! Samsoftn! Adam our fatherand his wife also And yet, God wot, Samson drank never wine. 1 Guitars. 14 A drunkard. "Perhaps," says Tyrwhitt, "Chaucer 2 Dreadful; fitted to "agrise" or horrify the listener. refers to Epist. lxxxiii.,'Extende in plures dies ilium 3 See note 18, page 42. Mr Wright says: "The ebrii habitum; nunquid de furore dubitabis? nune common oaths in the Middle Ages were by the different quoque non est minor sed brevior.' " s Madness. parts of God's body; and the popular preachers repre- 16 One evil-tempered. 17 Atoned for. 18 Doubt. sentedthatprofane swearers tore Christ's bodybytheir 19 Forbidden. St Jerome, in his book against Joimprecations." The idea was doubtless borrowed from vinian, says that so long as Adam fasted, he was in the passage in Hebrews (vi. 6), where apostates are Paradise; he ate, and he was thrust out,. said to " crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, o2 Moderate. 21 Labour. and put Him to an open shame." 4 Laughed. 2 " Meats for the belly, and the belly for meats; but 5 Female dancers or tumblers; from Anglo-Saxon, God shall destroy both it and them" (1 Cor. vi. 13). " tumban," to dance. 6 Dainty. 23 Wine. 24 See Phil. iii. 18, 19. 7 Fruit-girls. 8 Revellers. 9 Cake-sellers. 25 Cross; French, "croix." 10 "Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess" 26 Bag; Anglo-Saxon, "codde;" hence peas-cod, (Eph. v. 18). 11 Unnaturally. pin-cod (pin-cushion), &c. 27 Supply. 28 Sweet. 1' The reference is probably to the diligent inquiries 29 Compare with the lihes which follow, the picture he made at the time of Christ's birth. See Matt. ii. of the drunken messenger in the Man of Law's Tale, -8. 13 Command. page 67, ,136 TTHE CANT7ERBURY TALES. Thou fallest as it were a sticked swine; Y-playing atte hazard'he them fand. Thy tongue is lost, and all thine honest cure; For which, as soon as that it mighte be, ) For drunkenness is very sepultfire He stole him home again to his country. C Of manne's wit and his discretion. And saide there, " I will not lose my name,. In whom that drink hath dominati6n, Nor will I take on me so great diffame,16 He can no counsel keep, it is no dread.2 You to ally unto no hazardors.l7 Now keep you from the white and from the red, Sende some other wise ambassadors, And namely 3 from the white wine of Lepe,4 For, by my troth, me were lever 18 die, That is to sell in Fish Street 5 and in Cheap. Than I should you to hazardors ally. This wine of Spaine creepeth subtilly For ye, that be so glorious in honofrs, In other wines growing faste by, Shall not ally you to no hazardofrs, Of which there riseth such fumosity, As by my will, nor as by my treaty." That when a man hath drunken draught's three, This wise philos6pher thus said he. And weeneth that he be at home in Cheap, Look eke how to the King Demetrius He is in Spain, right at the town of Lepe, The King of Parthes, as the book saith us, Not at the R6chelle, nor at Bourdeaux town; Sent him a pair of dice of gold in scorn, And thenn8 will he say, Samsotn! Samson I! For he had used hazard therebeforn: But hearken, lordings, one word, I you pray, For which he held his glory and renown That all the sov'reign actes, dare I say, At no valfie or reputatiofin. Of victories in the Old Testament, Lordes may finden other manner play Through very God that is omnipotent, Honest enough to drive the day away. Were done in abstinence and in pray6re: Now will I speak of oathes false and great Look in the Bible, and there ye may it lear.6 A word or two, as olde bookis treat. took, Attila, the greate conqueror, Great swearing is a thing abominable, Died in his sleep,7 with shame and dishon6r, And false swearing is more reprovable. Bleeding aye at his nose in drunkenness: The highe God forbade swearing at all; A captain should aye live in soberness. Witness on Matthew: l but in special And o'er all this, advise 8 you right well Of swearing saith the holy Jeremie,20 What was commanded unto Lemuel; Thou shalt swear sooth thine oathes, and not Not Samuel, but Lemuel, say I. lie: Readc the Bible,9 and find it expressly And swear in doom,2' and eke in righteousness; Of wine giving to them that have justice. But idle swearing is a cursedness.22 No more of this, for it may well suffice. Behold and see, there in the firsti table And, now that I have spoke of gluttony, Of high Godde's hestes23 honourable, Now will I you defende hazardry.10 How that the second best of him is this, Hazard is very mother of leasings," Take not my name in idle 24 or amiss.' i And of deceit, and cursed forswearings: Lo, rather 25 he forbiddeth such swearing, Blasphem' of Christ, manslaughter, and waste Than homicide, or many a cursed thing; also I say that as by order thus it standeth; Of chattel 12 and of time; and furthermo' This knoweth he that his hests understandeth, It is repreve,l3 and contrar' of hoiotr, How that the second hest of God is that. For to be held a common hazardofr. And farthermore, I will thee tell all plat,26 And ever the higher he is of estate, That vengeance shall not parte from his house, The more he is holden desolate.14 That of his oathes is outrageous. If that a prince use hazardry, "By Godde's precious heart, and by his nails,27 In alle governance and.policy And by the blood of Christ, that is in Hailes,28 He is, as by comm6n opinion, Seven is my chance, and thine is cinque and Y-hold the less in reputation. trey: Chilon, that was a wise ambassador, By Godde's armes, if thoufalsely play, Was sent to Corinth with full great hon6r This dagger shall throughout thine hearte go." From Lacedaemon,l5 to make alliance; This fruit comes of the bicched 29 bones two, And when he came, it happen'd him, by chance, Forswearing, ire, falseness, and homicide. That all the greatest that were of that land, Now, for the love of Christ that for us died, 1 Care. 2 Doubt. 3 Especially. flourished about B.c. 590. According to Diogenes 4 A town near Cadiz, whence a stronger wine than Laertius, he died, under the pressure of age and joy, the Gascon vintages afforded was imported to England. in the arms of his son, who had just been crowned 5 Another reading is "Fleet Street." 6 Learn. victor at the Olympic games. 16 Reproach. 7 He was suffocated in the night by a haemorrhage, 17 Gamesters.. 18 Rather. brought on by a debauch, when he was preparing a 19 " Swear not at all;" Christ's words in Matt. v. 34. new invasion of Italy, in 453. 8 Consider, bethink. 20 Jeremiah iv. 2. 21 Judgment. 9 Prov. xxxi. 4, 5: " It is not for kings, 0 Lemuel, 22 Wickedness. 23 Commandments. it is not for kings to drink wine, nor for princes strong 24 In vain. 25 Sooner. 26 Flatly, plainly. drink; lest they drink, and forget the law, and pervert 27 The nails that fastened Christ on the cross, which the judgment of any of the afflicted." were regarded with superstitious reverence. 10 Forbid gaming. il Lies. 12 Property. 28 An abbey in Gloucestershire, where, under the 13 Reproach. 14 Undone, worthless. designation of "the blood of Hailes," a portion of 15 Most manuscripts, evidently in error, have " Stil- Christ's blood was preserved. bon" and "Calidone" for Chilon and Lacedaemon. 29 A term of opprobrious reprobation, applied to the Chilon was one of the seven sages of Greece, and dice. THE PARDONER'S TALE. 137 Leave your oathes, bothe great and smale. Answer'd again; "What? churl, with sorry But, Sirs, now will I ell you forth my tale. grace, These riotoureis hree, of which I tell,' Why art thou all forwrapped 16 save thy face? Long erst than primi rang of any bell, Why livest thou so long in so great age?" Were set them in a tavern for to drink; This oldB man gan look on his visage, And as they sat, they heard a belle clinki / And saide thus; " For that I cannot find Before a corpse, was carried to the grave. A man, though that I walked unto Ind, That one of them gan calle to his knave, Neither in city, nor in no village, "Go bet," 3 quoth he, " and aske readily That woulde change his youthB for mine age; What corpse is this, that passeth here forth by; And therefore must I have mine agB still And look that thou report his namB well." As long5 time as it is Godde's will. "Sir," quoththeboy, "it needeth never a deal;4 And Death, alas! he will not have my life. It was me told ere ye came here two hours; Thus walk I like a resteless caife17 He was, pardie, an old fell6w of yours, And on the ground, which is my mo ler's gate, And suddenly he was y-slain to-night; I knocke with my staff, early and late, Fordrunk 5 as he sat on his bench upright, And say to her,'Leve 1 mother, let me in. There came a privy thief, men clepb Death, Lo, how I wane, Ae~si, and blood, and skin; That in this country all the people slay'th, Alas! when shall my bones be at rest? And with his spear he smote his heart in two, Mother, with you I wouldd change my chest, And went his way withoute wordes mo'. That in my chamber longe time hath be, He hath a thousand slain this pestilence; Yea, for an hairy clout to wrap in me.' 19 And, master, ere you come in his presence, But yet to me she will not do that grace, Me thinketh that it were full necessary For which full pale and welked 20 is my face. For to beware of such an adversary; But, Sirs, to you it is no courtesy Be ready for to meet him evermore. To speak unto an old man villainy, Thus taughte me my dame; I say no more." But21 he trespass in word or else in deed. " By Sainte Mary," said the tavern4re, In Holy Writ ye may yourselves read; " The child saith sooth, for he hath slain this' Against 22 an old man, hoar upon his head, year, Ye should arise:' therefore I you-e,23 Hence ov'r a mile, within a great village, Ne do unto an old man no harm now, Both man and woman, child, and hind, and No more than ye would a man did you page; In age, if that ye may so long abide. rowhis habitati6n be there; And God be with you, whether ye go or ride. To be advised 6 great wisd6m it were, I must go thither as I have to go." Ere7 that he did a man a dishonour." "Nay, olde churl, by God thou shalt not so," " Yea, Goddi's armes," quoth this riotoir, Saide this other hazardor anon; " Is it such peril with him for to meet? "Thou partest not so lightly, by Saint John. I shall him seek, by stile and eke by street. Thou spakest right now of that traitor Death, I make a vow, by Godde's digne 8 bones. That in this country all our friendes slay'th; Hearken, fell6ws; we three be alli ones: 9 Have here my troth, as thou art his espy; 24 Let each of us hold up his hand to other, Tell where he is, or thou shalt it abie,25 And each of us become the other's brother, By God and by the holy sacrament; And we will slay this false traitor Death; For soothly thou art one of his assent He shall be slain, he that so many slay'th, To slay us young, folk, thou falesief." By Godde's dignity, ere it be night." "Now, Sirs," quoth he, "if it be you so lief 26 Together have these three their trothi plight To finde Death, turn up this crooked way, To live affd die each one of them for other For in that grove I left him, by my fay, As though he were his owen boren 10 brother. Under a tree, and there he will abide; And up they start, all drunken, in this rage, Nor for your boast he will him nothing hide. And forth they go towardes that village See ye that oak? right there ye shall him find. Of which the taverner had spoke beforn, God save you, that bought again mankind, And many a grisly 1 oathe have they sworn, And you amend! " Thus said this oldd man; And Christe's blessed body they to-rent; 12 And evereach of these riotofiris ran, "Death shall be dead, if that we may him Till they came to the tree, and there they found hent." 13 Offiains -fine, of gold y-coined round, When they had gone not fully half a mile, WVr-nlgh a seven bushels, as them thought. Right as they would have trodden o'er a tije, No longer as then after Death they sought; An old man and a poore with them met. But each of them so glad was of the sight, This olde man full meekely them gret,'4 For that the florins were so fair and bright, And saide thus; " Now, lordes, God you see! "15 That down they sat them by the precibus hoard. The proudest of these riotoiurs three The youngest of them spake the firste word: 1 Before. 2 Servant. 12 See note 3, page 135. 13 Catch. 3 A hunting phrase; apparently its force is, "go beat 14 Greeted. 15 Preserve, look upon graciously. up the game." 4 Whit. 5 Completely drunk. 16 Closely wrapt up. 17 Miserable wretch. 6 Watchful, on one's guard. 7 Lest, in case. 18 Dear. 19 To wrap myself in. 20 Withered. 8 Worthy. 9 At one. 21 Except. 22 To meet. 23 Advise. 10 Born; a better reading is "sworen." 11 Dreadful. 24 Spy. 25 Suffer for. 26 Desired a thing. 138 THE CANTERBUR Y TALES. "Brethren," quoth he, "take keep what I And with thy dagger look thou do the same. shall say; And then shall all this gold departed be, My wit is great, though that I bourde 1 and My deare friend, betwixtd thee and me: play.' Then may we both our lustes 14 all fulfil, This treasure hath Fortfne unto us given And play at dice right at our owen will." In mirth and jollity our life to liven; And thus accorded 15 be these shrewes 12 tway And lightly as it comes, so will we spend. To slay the third, as ye have heard me say. Hey! Godde's precious dignity! who wend 2 The youngest, which that wente to the town, To-day that we should have so fair a grace? Full oft in heart he rolled up and down But might this gold be carried from this place The b-auty of these florins new and bright. Home to my house, or ellis unto yours " Lord! " quoth he, " if so were that I might (For well I wot that all this gold is ours), Have all this treasure to myself alone, Then were we in high elicit. There is no man that lives under the throne But truely by day it may not be; Of God, that shoulde live so merry as I." Men woulde say that we were thieves strong, And at the last the fiend our enemy And for our owen treasure do us hong.3 Put in his thought, that he should poison buy, This treasure muste carried be by night, With which he mighte slay his fellows twy.l6 As wisely and as slily as it might. For why, the fiend found him in such living,l7 Wherefore I rede,4 that cut 5 among us all That he had leave to sorrow him to bring. We draw, and let see where the cut will fall: For this was utterly his full intent And he that hath the cut, with hearte blithe To slay them both, and never to repent. Shall run unto the town, and that full swithe,6 And forth he went, no longer would he tarry, And bring us bread and wine full rivly: Into the town to an apothecary, And two of us shall keepe subtilly And prayed him that he him woulde sell This treasure well:.and if he will not tarry, Some poison, that he might his rattes quell,1s When it is night, we will this treasure carry, And eke there was a polecat in his haw,19 By one assent, where as us thinketh best." That, as he said, his.apons had y-slaw: 2^ Then one of them the cut brought in his fist, And fain he would him:*eak,21 if that he might, And bade them draw, and look where it would Of vermin that destroyed him by night. fall; Th' apothecary answer'd, " Thou shalt have And it fell on the youngest of them all; A thing, as wisly 22 God my soulS save, And forth toward the town he went anon. In all this world there is no creature And all so soon as that he was y-gone, That eat or drank hath of this c6nfectfire, The one of them spake thus unto the other; Not but the mountance 23 of a corn of wheat, "Thou knowest well that thou art my sworn That he shall not his life anon forlete; 24 brother, Yea, sterve 25 he shall, and that in lesse while Thy profit 7 will I tell thee right anon. Than thou wilt go a pace 26 nought but a mile: Thou knowest well that our fellow is gone, This poison is so strong and violent." And here is gold, and that full great plenty, This cursed man hath in his hand y-hent 27 That shall departed 8 be among us three. This poison in a box, and swift he ran But natheless, if I could shape 9 it so Into the nexte street, unto a man, That it departed were among us two, And borrow'd of him large bottles three; Had I not done a friendS's turn to thee? " And in the two the poison poured he; Th' other answ6r'd, " I n'ot 10 how that may be; The third he kepte clean for his own drink, He knows well that the gold is with us tway. For all the night he shope him 28 for to swink 29 What shall we do? what shall we to him say? " In carrying off the gold out of that place. " Shall it be counsel?" 1 said the firstS shrew; 12 And when this riotour, with sorry grace, "And I shall tell to thee in wordSs few Had fill'd with wine his greatS bottles three, What we shall do, and bring it well about." To his fell6ws again repaired he. " I grantS," quoth the other, " out of doubt, What needeth it thereof to sermon 3 more? That by my truth I will thee not bewray." For, right as they had cast 3 his death before, "Now," quoth the first, " thou know'st well we Right so they have him slain, and that anon. be tway, And when that this was done, thus spake the And two of us shall stronger be than one. one; Look, when that he is set,l3 thou right anon "Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry, Arise, as though thou wouldest with him play; And afterward we will his body bury." And I shall rive him through the sides tway, And with that word it happen'd him par cds 32 While that thou strugglest with him as in game; To take the bottle where the poison was, 1 Joke, frolic. 2 Weened, thought. 19 Farm-yard, hedge. Compare the French, "hale." 3 Cause us to be hanged. 20 Slain. 21 Revenge. 22 Surely. 4 My advice is. 5 Lots. 6 Quickly. 23 Amount. 24 Lay down, quit. 25 Die. 7 What is for thine advantage. 8 Divided. 26 At a pace, quickly; so, on several occasions, 9 Contrive. 10 Know not. Chaucer speaks of "a furlong," or one or two furlongs, 11 Secret, in confidence. 12 Wicked wretch. when he means to denote a brief lapse of time. See 13 Sat down. 14 Pleasures. note 12, page 52, for an instance. 27 Taken. 15 Agreed. 16 Two; German, "zwei." 28 Purposed. ^9 Labour. 17 Leading such a (bad) life. 30 Talk, discourse. 81 Contrived, plotted. 18 Kill, destroy, his rats. 32 By chance. THE SHIPMAN'S TALE. 139 And drank, and gave his fellow drink also, When that the soul shall from the body pass. For which anon they sterved 1 both the two. I redi 12 that our Hoste shall begin, But certes I suppose that Avicen For he is most enveloped in sin. Wrote never in no canon, nor no fen,2 Come forth, Sir Host, and offer first anon, More wondrous signis of empoisoning, And thou shalt kiss the relics every one, Than had these wretches two ere their ending. Yea, for a groat; unbuckle anon thy purse. Thus ended be these homicides two, Thus ended be fthse homicidis twoa, "Nay, nay," quoth he, "then have I Christa's And eke the false empoisoner also. O cursed sin, full of all cursedness!!,~O'. n ~~ll il aur\ i 1.Let.be," quoth he, "it shall not be, so the'ch.'3 O trait'rous homicide! O wickedness! Thou wouldest make me kiss thine oldi breech, O glutt'ny, luxury, and hazardry! o glutt'ny luxury, ad h. And swear it were a relic of a saint, Thou blasphemer of Christ with villainy,3 A it were a recf ament dep Though it were with thy fundament depai/lt'. And oathes great, of usage and of pride! And oathisgreat, of usaye a of pride! But, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand14 Alas I mankinde, how may it betide, Alasmanind, hd, I would I had thy coilons in mine hand, That to thy Creat6r, which that thee wrought, I coons n n an Instead of relics, or of sanctuary. And with his precious hearti-blood thee bought, t ct tm o I w t h cary m, t c^n, 1~ 1.-, 4sLet cut them off, I will thee help them carry; Thou art so false and so unkind,4 alas! T sl be s d in a h Theyr shall be shrined in a hoggd's tord." Now, good men, God forgive you your trespass, The Pardoner answered not one word; And ware5 you from the sin of avarice. So wroth he was, no wordewould he say. Mine holy pardon may you all warice? SMine holy pardon may you all warice,6 " Now," quoth our Host, "I will no longer So that ye offer nobles or sterlings,7 Or ellis silver brooches, spoons, or rings. With n w yorhadudehsoybull-ith thee, nor with none other angry man. Bowe your head under this holy bull. But right anon the worthy Knight began Come up, ye wives, and offer of your will; Bu r a t w n began Come up, ye wives, and offer of your will; (When that he saw that all the people lough 15), Your names I enter in my roll anon; Your namebs I enter in my roll anon;" No more of this, for it is right enough. Into the bliss of heaven shall ye gon; Sir Pardoner, be merry and glad of cheer; I you assoil5 by mine high powere, And ye, Sir Host, that be to me so dear, You that will offer, as clean and eke as clear I pray y e kiss the Pardoner; As ye were born. Lo, Sires, thus I preach;, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner And, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,16 And Jesus Christ, that is our soules' leech,9 And as we didd, let us laugh and play." And as we didde, let us laugh and play." So grante you his pardon to receive; ^ So granti you his pardon to receive; Anon they kiss'd, and rodi forth their way. For-that is best, I will you not deceive. But, Sirs, one word forgot I in my tale;, I have relics and pardon in my mail, As fair as any man in Engleland, Which were me given by the Pope's hand. THE SHIPMAN'S TALE.1 If any of you will of devoti6n Offer, and have mine absoluti6n, THE PROLOGUE. Come forth anon, and kneele here adown, And meekily receivi my pardolin. OUR Host upon his stirrups stood anon, Or ellis take pardon, as ye wend,10 And saide; " Good men, hearken every one, All new and fresh at every towni's end, This was a thrifty 8 tale for the nones. So that ye offer, always new and new, Sir Parish Priest," quoth he, "for Goddi's Nobles or pence which that be good and true. bones,'Tis an honour to evereach that is here, Tell us a tale, as was thy forword yore: 9 That ye have a suffisant pardondre I see well that ye learned men in lore T' assoilB i you in country as ye ride, Can 20 muchi good, by Goddi's dignity." For aventfres which that may betide. The Parson him answer'd, " Ben'dicite i Parivenure there may fall one or two What ails the man, so sinfully to swear?" Down of his horse, and break his neck in two. Our Host answer'd, " O Jankin, be ye there? Look, what a surety is it to you all, Now, good men," quoth our Host, "hearken to That I am in iyo" fellowship y-fall, me. That may assoil you bothe more and lass,ll I smell a Lollard 21 in the wind," quoth he. 1 Died. the genuineness of the sacred tree, by raising to life a 2 Avicen, or Avicenna, was among the distinguished dead man laid upon it. 15 Laughed. 16 Nearer. physicians of the Arabian school in the eleventh cen- 17 In this Tale Chaucer seems to have followed an old tury, and very popular in the Middle Ages. His great French story, which also formed the groundwork of work was called " Canon Medicinee," and was divided the first story in the eighth day of the "Decameron." into "fens," fennes," or sections. The Prologue here given was transferred by Tyrwhitt 3 Outrage, impiety. 4 Unnatural. from the place, preceding the Squire's Tale, which it 5 Guard, keep. 6c " Warish," heal. had formerly occupied; the Shipman's Tale having no 7 Sterling money. - Prologue in the best manuscripts. 8 Absolve. Compare the Scotch law-term "assoil- 18 Discreet, profitable. 19 Thy promise formerly. sie," to acquit. 9 Physician of souls. 20 Know, are capable of telling. o1 Go. i1 Both great and small. 21 A contemptuous name for the followers of Wyckiiffe; 12 Would counsel. 13 So thd ich-so may I thrive, presumably derived from the Latin, " lolium," tares, 14 Saint Helen, according to Sir John Mandeville, as if they were the tares among the Lord's wheat; so, found the cross of Christ deep below ground, under a a few lines below, the Shipman intimates his fear lest rock, where the Jews had hidden it; and she tested the Parson should "spring cockle in our clean corn." o40 THE CANTERBURY TALES. " Abide, for Godd'es digne 1 passi6n, And he again him said not once nay, For we shall have a predicati6n: But was as glad thereof as fowl of day; This Lollard here will preachen us somewhat." For to his heart it was a great pleasance. " Nay, by my father's soul, that shall he not, Thus be they knit with etern' alliance, Saidi the Shipman; " Here shall he not preach, And each of them gan other to assure He shall no gospel glosi 2 here nor teach. Of brotherhood while that their life may dure. We all believe in the great God," quoth he... Free was Dan 2 John, and namely13 of dispence, " He wouldi sowd some difficulty, As in that house, and full of diligence Or springe cockle 3 in our cleanS. corn. To do pleasance, and also great costage; 14 And therefore, Host, I warni thee beforn, He not forgot to give the leaste page My jolly body shall a tale tell, In all that house; but, after their degree, AndI shall clinki you so merry a bell, He gave the lord, and sithen 15 his meinie,l6 That I shall waken all this company; When that he came, some manner honest thing; But it shall not be of philosophy, For which they were as glad of his coming Nor of physic, nor termis quaint of law; As fowl is fain when that the sun upriseth. There is but little Latin in my maw." 4 No more of this as now, for it sufficeth. But so befell, this merchant on a day Shope 17 him to make ready his array THE TALE. Toward the town of Bruges for to fare, A Merchant whilom dwell'd at Saint Denise, To buye there a porti6n of ware;'1 That richi was, for which men held him wise. For which he hath to Paris sent anon A wife he had of excellent beauty, A messenger, and prayed hath Dan John And companiable and revellous 5 was she, That he should come to Saint Denis, and play 19 Which is a thing that causeth more dispence. With him, and with his wife, a day or tway, Than worth is all the cheer and reverence Ere he to Bruges went, in alle wise. That men them do at feastis and at dances. This noble monk, of which I you devise,20 Such salutati6ns and countenances Had of his abbot, as him list, licence, Passen, as doth the shadow on the wall; (Because he was a man of high prudence, But woe is him that paye must for all. And eke an officer out for to ride, The sely 6 husband algate 7 he must pay, To see their granges and their barnes wide 21); He must us 8 clothe and he must us array And unto Saint Denis he came anon. All for his owen worship richely: Who was so welcome as my lord Dan John, In which array we dance jollily. Our deare cousin, full of courtesy? And if that he may not, paraventure, With him he brought a jub 22 of malvesie,23 Or elles list not such dispence endure, And eke another full of fine vernage,3 But thinketh it is wasted and y-lost, And volatile,24 as aye was his usage: Then must another payi for our cost, And thus I let them eat, and drink, and play, Or lend us gold, and that is perilous. This merchant and this monk, a day or tway. This noble merchant held a noble house; The thirde day the merchant up ariseth, For which he had all day so great repair,9 And on his needes sadly him adviseth;'2 For his largesse, and for his wife was fair, And up into his countour-house 26 went he, That wonder is; but hearken to my tale. To reckon with himself as well may be, Amonges all these guestes great and smale, Of thilki 27 year, how that it with him stood, There was a monk, a fair man and a bold, And how that he dispended had his good, I trow a thirty winter he was old, And if that he increased were or non. That ever-in-one 10 was drawing to that place. His bookis and his bagges many a one This younge monk, that was so fair of face, He laid before him on his counting-board. Acquainted was so with this goode man, Full riche was his treasure and his hoard; Since that their firste knowledge began, For which full fast his countour door he shet; That in his house as familiar was he And eke he would that no man should him let28 As it is possible any friend to be. Of his accountes, for the meane time: And, for as muchel as this goode man, And thus he sat, till it was passed prime. And eke this monk of which that I began, Dan John was risen in the morn also, Were both the two y-born in one village, And in the garden walked to and fro, The monk him claimed, as for cousinage,1l And had his thinges said full courteously. 1, Worthy. 2 Comment upon. 16 Household, servants. 17 Resolved, arranged. 3 Tares, weeds; the "agrostemma githago" of Lin- 18 Merchandise, Bruges was in Chaucer's time the neus; perhaps namedfrom the Anglo-Saxon, "ceocan," great emporium of European commerce. because it " chokes " the corn. 4 Belly. 19 Enjoy himself. 20 Tell. 5 Fond of society and merry-making. 21 To inspect and manage the rural property of the 6 Simple. 7 Always; or, however. monastery. 2a Jar. 8 So in all the manuscripts; and from this and the 23 Malvesie or Malmesy wine derived its name from following lines it may be inferred that Chaucer had in- Malvasia, a region of the Morea near Cape Malea, tended to put the Tale into the mouth of a female where it was made-as it also was on Chios and some speaker. 9 Resort of visitors. 10 Constantly. other Greek islands. As to vernage, see note 21, p. 109. 11 Claimed cousinship, kindred, with him. 24 Wild fowl, birds for the table; French, " volatille," 12 A title bestowed on priests and scholars; from "volaille." 25 Seriously deliberated on his affairs.''"Dominus," like the Spanish, "Don." 26 Counting-house; French, "comptoir." 13 Especially. 14 Liberal outlay. 15 Afterwards. 27 That. 28 Detain from, hinder. THE SHIPMAN'S TALE. 141 The good wife came walking full privily "Nay," quoth this monk, " by God and Saint Into the garden, where he walked soft, Martin, And him saluted, as she had done oft; He is no more cousin unto me, A maiden child came in her company, Than is the leaf that hangeth on the tree; Which as her list she might govern and gle,l I call him so, by Saint Denis of France, For yet under the yarde 2 was the maid. To have the more cause of acquaintance "O deare cousin mine, Dan John," she said, Of, which I have loved specially " What ailethyou so rath 3 for to arise?" Aboven alle women sickerly,16 "Niece," quoth he, " it ought enough suffice This swear I you-on my professioin; 17 Five houris for to sleep upon a night; Tell me your grief, lest that he come adown, But 4 it were for an old appalled 5 wight, And hasten yu, and go away anon." As be these wedded men, that lie and dare, "My deari love," quoth she, " O my Dan As in a forme sits a weary hare, John, Alle forstraught 7 with houndes great and Full lief is were me this counsel for to hide, smale; i But out it must, I may no more abide. But, deare niece, why bey o pale? My husband is to me the worste man I trowe certes that our goode man That ever was since that the world began; Hath yU labofred, since this night began, But since I am a wife, it sits 19 not me That yo. were need to reste hastily." To telle no wight of our privity, And with that word he laugh'd full merrily, Neither in bed, nor in none other place And of his owen thought he wax'd all red. God shield 20 I shoulde tell it for his grace; This faire wife gan for to shake her head, A wifi shall not say of her husband And saide thus; "Yea, God wot all," quoth she. But all honofr, as I can understand; "Nay, cousin mine, it stands not so with me; Save unto you thus much I telle shall; For by that God, that gave me soul and life, As help miod, he is nought worth at all, In all the realm of France is there no wife In no degree, the value of a fly. That lesse lust hath to that sorry play; But yet me grieveth most his niggardy.21 For I may sing alas and well-away! And well e wot, that women naturally That I was born; but to no wight," quoth she, Desire thing's six, as well as I. "Dare I not tell how that it stands with me. They woulde that their husbands shoulde be Wherefore I think out of this land to wend, Hardy,22 and wise, and rich, and thereto free, Or elles of myself to make an end, And buxom 2 to his wife, and fresh in bed. So full am 1 of dread and eke of care." But, by that ilk 24 Lord that for us bled, This monk began upon this wife to stare, For his honofr myself for to array, And said, "Alas! my niece, God forbid On Sunday next I muste needes pay That yefor any sorrow, or any dread, A hundred francs, or ellis am I lorn.25'Fordo yourself: but telle me your grief, Yet were me lever26 that I were unborn, Paraventure I may, in your mischief,9 ThAn me were done slander or villainy. Counsel or help; and therefore telli me And if mine husband eke might it espy, All your annoy, for it shall be secre. I were but lost; and therefore I u pray, For on my portos 10 here I make an oath, Lend me this sum, or ellis mustiy.27 That never in my life, for lief nor loth," Dan John, I say, lend me these hundred francs; Ne shall I of no counsel you bewray." Pardie, I will not faileou, my thanks,28 " The same again to you," quoth she, " I say. If that you list to do thl you pray; By God and by this portos I you swear, For at a certain day I willj.s pay, Though men me woulden all'i pieces tear, And do to ou what pleasanbe and service Ne shall I never, for 2 to go to hell, That I may, right asjyolist devise. Bewray one word of thing that ye me tell, And but 4 I do, God take on me vengeance, Not for no cousinage, nor alliance, As foul as e'er had Ganilion29 of France." But verily for love and affiance." 13 This gentle monk answer'd in this mannere; Thus be they sworn, and thereupon they kiss'd, " Now truely, mine owen lady dear, And each of them told other what them list. I have," quoth he, " on y0 so greate ruth,30 "Cousin," quoth she, " if that I hadde space, That I yo wear, and pightejou my truth, As I have none, and namely 4 in this place, That when your husband is to Flanders fare,3 Then would I tell a legend of my life, I will deliverj. out of this care, What I have suffer'd since I was a wife For I will bringe you a hundred francs." With mine husband, all 1 be he your cousin. And with that worThe caught her by the flanks, 1 Guide. 17 By my vows of religion. 18 Pleasant. 2 Rod; in pupillage; a phrase properly used of 19 Becomes. 20 Forbid. 21 Stinginess. children, but employed by the Clerk in the prologue 22 Brave. 23 Yielding, obedient. to his tale. See note 4, page 93. 24 Same. 25 Ruined, undone. 3 Early. 4 Unless. 26 I would rather. 27 Die. 5 Pallid, wasted. 6 Stare.'28 With my good-will; if I can help it. 7 Distracted, confounded. 8 Ruin. 9 Distress. 29 Genelon, Ganelon, or Ganilion; one of Charle10 Breviary. 11 Willing orunwilling. magne's officers, whose treachery was the cause of the 12 Though the alternative should be. disastrous defeat of the Christians by the Saracens at 13 Confidence, promise. 14 Especially. Roncevalles; he was torn to pieces by four horses, 15 Although, 16 Assuredly, 30 Pity. 31 Gone. i42 THE CANTERB UR Y TALES. And her embraced hard, and kiss'd her oft. God and Saint Austin speede y9o and guide. "Go now your way," quoth he, "all still and I pray, cousin, wisely that ye ride: soft, Governe you also of your diet And let us dine as soon as that ve may, Attemperly and namely 12 in this heat. For by my calendar'tis prime of day; Betwixt us two needeth no strange fare; 13 Go now, and be as true as I shall be." Farewell, cousin, God shielde you from care. "Now ellis God forbidde, Sir," quoth she; If any thing there be, by day or night, And forth she went, as jolly as a pie, If it lie in my power and my might, And bade the cookes that they should them hie,' That y me will command in any wise, So that men mighte dine, and that anon. It sharbe done, right as ye will devise. Up to her husband is this wife gone, But one thing ere go, Tiit may be; And knocked at his contour boldely. I woulde pray you for to lend to me " Qui est la?"2 quoth he. " Peter! it am I," A hundred fran's, for a week or twy, Quoth she; "What, Sir, how longe will, For certain beastes that I muste buy, fast? To store with 14 a place that is ours How longe time will ye reckon and cast (God help me so, I would that it were yours); Your summes, and your bookes, and your I shall not faile surely of my day, things? Not for a thousand francs, a mile way. The devil have part of all such reckonings! But let this thing be secret, I 2u pray; Xhave enough, pardie, of GoddS's sond.3 For yet to-night these beastes must I buy. Come down to-day, and let your bagges stond. And fare now well, mine owen cousin dear; Ne be S not ashamed, that Dan John Grand mercy 5 of your cost and of your cheer." Shall faiing all this day eleng 4 gon? This noble merchant gentilly 6 anon What? let us hear a mass, and go we dine." Answ6r'd and said, " O cousin mine, Dan John, "Wife," quoth this man, "little canst thou Now sickerly this is a small request: divine " My gold is youres, when that it u lest, The curious businessb that we have; And not only my gold, but my chaffare; 17 For of us chapmen, all so God me save, Take what you list, God shielde that.yespare. l And by that lord that cleped is Saint Ive, But one thing is,y. know it well enow Scarcely amonges twenty, ten shall thrive Of chapmen, that their money is their plough. Continually, lasting unto our age. We may creanc 19 while we have a name, We may well make cheer and good visage, But goldless for to be it is no game. And drive forth the world as it may be, Pay it again when it lies in your ease; And keepen our estate in privity, After my might full fain would Iyou please." Till we be dead, or ellis that we play These hundred frankes set he forth anon, A pilgrimage, or go out of the way. And privily he took them to Dan John; And therefore have I great necessity No wight in all this world wist of this loan, Upon this quaint 5 world to advise 6 me. Saving the merchant and Dan John alone. For evermori must we stand in dread They drink, and speak, and roam a while, and Of hap and fortune in our chapmanhead.7 play, To Flanders will I go to-morrow at day, Till that Dan John rode unto his abbay. And come again as soon as e'er I may: The morrow came, and forth this merchant For which, my dearB wife, I ee beseek rideth As be to every wight buxom 8 aIa meek, To Flanders-ward, his prentice well him guideth, And for to keep our good be curious, Till he came unto Bruges merrily. And honestly governe well our house. Now went this merchant fast and busily Thou hast enough, in every manner wise, About his need, and buyed and creanced; That to a thrifty household may suffice. He neither played at the dice, nor danced; Thee lacketh none array, nor no vitail; But as a merchant, shortly for to tell, Of silver in vX purse thou shalt not fail." He led his life; and there I let him dwell. And with that word his contour door he shot,9 The Sunday next 0 the merchant was y-gone, And down he went; no longer would he let;' To Saint Denis y-comen is Dan John, And hastily a mass was there said, With crown and beard all fresh and newly shave. And speedily the tables were laid, In all the house was not so little a knave,21 And to the dinner faste they them sped, Nor no wight elles, that was not full fain And richely this monk the chapman fed. For that my lord Dan John was come again. And after dinner Dan John soberly And, shortly to the point right for to gon, This chapman took apart, and privily This fairi wife accorded with Dan John, He said him thus: " Cousin, it standeth so, That for these hundred francs he should all That, well I see, to Brugesawill go; night 1 Haste. 2 Who is there? -- 3 Sending, gifts. 12 Particularly. 13 Ado, ceremony. 4 From French, " eloigner," to remove; it may mean - 14 With which to store. 15 Great thanks. either the lonely, cheerless condition of the priest, or 16 Handsomely, like a gentleman. the strange behaviour of the merchant in leaving him 17 Merchandise. to himself. 5 Strange. 6 Consider. 18 God forbid that you should take too little. 7 Trading. 8 Civil, courteous. 9 Shut. 19 Obtain credit; French, "creance," credit. 10 Hinder, delay. 1i Moderately. 20 After. 21 Servant-boy. THE SHIPMAN'S TALE. 143 Hav6 her in his armis bolt upright; As she was wont of old usage algate;2 And this accord performed was in deed. And all that night in mirthe they beset; l In mirth all night a busy life they lead, For he was rich, and clearly out of debt. Till it was day, that Dan John went his way, When it was day, the merchant gan embrace And bade the meinie " Farewell; have good His wife all new, and kiss'd her in her fac;j, day." And up he went, and maked it full toad. For none of them, nor no wight in the town, "No more," quoth she, "by _od e have Had of Dan John right no suspiciofin; enough;" And forth he rode home to his abbay, And wantonly again with him she play'd, Or where him list; no more of him I say. Till at the last this merchant to her said. The merchant, when that ended was the fair, "By God," quoth he, " I am a little wroth To Saint Denis he gan for to repair, With you my wife, although it be me loth; And with his wife he made feast and cheer, And w-o why? by God, as that I guess, And tolde her that chaffare 2 was so dear, That yA have made a manner strangeness 14 That needes must he make a chevisance;3 Betwixte me and my cousin, Dan John. For he was bound in a recognisance efshould have warned me, ere I had gone, To paye twenty thousand shields 4 anon. That he yo had a hundred frankes paid For which this merchant is to Paris gone, By readyToken; he held him evil apaid 1 To borrow of certain friendes that he had For that I to him spake of chevisance,16 A certain francs, and some with him he lad.5 (Me seemed so as by his countenance); And when that he was come into the town, But natheless, by God of heaven king, For great chert8 6 and great affectioin I thoughtB not to ask of him no thing. UJnto Dan John he wente first to play; I pray. ~ee wife, do t.u no more so. Not for to borrow of him no money, Tell me alway, ere that I from tgego, But for to weet 7 and see of his welfare, If any debtor hath in mine absence And for to tellB him of his chaffare, Y-payed thee, lest through th negligence As friendis do, when they be met in fere.s I might him ask a thing that he hath paid." Dan John him made feast and merry cheer; This wife was not afeared nor afraid, And he him told again full specially, But boldely she said, and that anon; How he had well y-bought and graciously " Mary! I defy that false monk Dan John, (Thanked be God) all whole his merchandise; I keep 17 not of his tokens never a deal: Save that he must, in alld manner wise, He took me certain gold, I wot it well. ^ Maken a chevisance, as for his best; What? evil thedom 1 on his monki's snout! And then he shouldi be in joy and rest. For, God it wot, I ween'd withoute doubt Dan John answered, " Certes, I am fain 9 That he had given it me, because of you, That y.in health be comi home again: To do therewith mine honour and my prow,20 And if that I were rich, as have I bliss, For cousinage, and eke for belld cheer Of twenty thousand shields should y not miss, That he hath had full oftentime here. For yeso kindely the other day But since I see I stand in such disjoint,21 Lente me gold, and as I can and may I will answer yoq; shortly to the point. I thankBeyu, by God and by Saint Jame. Y~ have more slacki debtors than am I; But natheess I took unto our Dame, For I will pay you well and readily, Your wife at home, the same gold again, From day to day, and if so be I fail, Upon your bench; she wot it well, certain, I am your wife, score it upon my tail, B3y certain tokens that I can her tell. And I shall pay as soon as ever I may. Now, by your leave, I may no longer dwell; For, by my troth, I have on mine array, Our abbot will out of this town anon, And not in waste, bestow'd it every deal. And in his company I muste gon. And, for I have bestowed it so well, Greet well our Dame, mine owen niece sweet, For your honour, for Goddi's sake I say, And farewell, deare cousin, till we meet." As be not wroth, but let us laugh and play. This merchant, which that was full ware and Yce shall my jolly body have to wed;22 wise, By God, I will not pay eg but in bed; Creanced hath, and paid eke in Paris Forgive it me, mine owen spouse dear; To certain Lombards ready in their bond Turn hitherward, and makB better cheer." The sum of gold, and got of them his bond, The merchant saw none other remedy; And home he went, merry as a popinjay. And for to chide, it were but a folly, For well he knew he stood in such array Since that the thing might not amended be. That needis must he win in that voyage 0 "Now, wife," he said, "and I forgive it A thousand francs, above all his costage. l te; His wife full ready met him at the gate, But y thy lifi be no more so large;23 I Servants. 2 Merchandise. 12 Always. 13 Spent. 3 Raise money by means of a borrowing agreement; 14 A kind of estrangement, coolness. from French, "achever," to finish; the general mean- 15 Was displeased. 16 Borrowing. ing of the word is a bargain, an agreement. 17 Care. 18 Whit. 4 Crowns; French, " cu." 5 Took. 19 Thriving, success; from the verb "the " thrive, 6 Love. 7 Know. 8 Company. 9 Glad. 20 Profit, advantage. 21 Danger, awkward position, 10 By his journey to Bruges. il Expenses. 22 In pledge. 23 Liberal, lavish. 144 THE CANTERBURY TALES. Keep better my good, this give I thef in charge." Through thy humbless, the ghost that in thee Thus endeth now my tale; and God us send light; 13 Taling enough, unto our lives'-end! Of whose virtfe, when he thine hearte light,14 Conceived was the Father's sapience_ Help me to tell it to thy reverence. Lady! thy bounty, thy magnificence, Thy virtue, and thy great humility, There may no tongue express in no science: THE PRIORESS'S TALE. For sometimes, Lady! ere men pray to thee, Thou go'st before, of thy benignity, THE PROLOGUE. And gettest us the light, through thy praylre, "WELL said, by corpus Donini," quoth our To guiden us unto thy son so dear. Host; My conningl5 is so weak, O blissful queen, " Now longi may'st thou saile by the coast, For to declare thy great worthiness, Thou gentle Master, gentle Marinere. That I not may the weight of it sustene; God give the monk a thousand last quad year I! But as a child of twelvemonth old, or less, Aha! fellows, beware of such a jape.2 That can unnethes 16 any word express, The monk put in the manne's hood an ape,3 Right so fare I; and therefore, I you pray, And in his wife's eke, by Saint Austin. Guide my song that I shall 9f you say. Drawe no monkes more into your inn. There was in Asia, in a great city But now pass over, and let us seek about, Amonges Christian folk, a Jewery,17 Who shall now telle first of all this rout Sustained by a lord of that countr, Another tale;" and with that word he said, For foul usure, and lucre of villainy, As courteously as it had been a maid; Hateful to Christ, and to his company;'"My Lady Prioress6, by your leave, And through the street men mighte ride and So that I wist I shoulde you not grieve,4 wend I would5 deemS 5 that ye tellS should A ta next,, if so were5 that ye whould. For it was free, and open at each end. A tale next, if so were that ye would.. Now will ye voucsafe, my lady dear? A little school of Christian folk there stood Now will ye vouchesafe, my lady dear?" Down at the farther end, in which there were "Gladly," quoth she; and said as ye shall hear. Down at the farther end, in which there were Children an heap y-come of Christian blood, That learned in that schoolS year by year THE TALE.6 Such manner doctrine as men used there; This is to say, to singen and to read, O Lord our Lord! thy name how marvellous As smalls children do in their childhead. Is in this large world y-spread! (quoth she) Among these children was a widow's son, For not only thy lauds 8 precious A little clergion,l9 seven year of age, Performed is by men of high degree, That day by day to scholay was his won20 But by the mouth of children thy bounte And eke also, whereso he saw th' image Performed is, for on the breast sucking Of Christe's mother, had he in us6ae, Sometimes showe they thy herying.9 As him was taught, to kneel adown, and say Wherefore in laud, as I best can or may Ave Maria, as he went by the way. Of thee, and of the white lily flow'r Thus had this widow her little son y-taught Which that thee bare, and is a maid alway, Our blissful Lady, Christe's mother dear, To tell a story I will do my labofr; To worship aye, and he forgot it not; Not that I may increase her honofir, For sely 21 child will always soone lear.22 For she herselven is honour and root But aye when I remember on this mattere, Of bount6e,l next her son, and soules' boot.l Saint Nicholas 23 stands ever in my presence; 0 mother maid, 0 maid and mother free! 12 For he so young to Christ did reverence. O bush unburnt, burning in Moses' sight, This little child his little book learning, That ravished'st down from the deity, As he sat in the school at his primere, 1 Ever so much evil. "Last" means a load, 9 Glory. "Out of the mouths of babes and suck. quad," bad (see note 21, page 59); and literally we lings hast Thou ordained strength" (Ps. viii. 2). may read "a thousand weight of bad years." The 10 Goodness. 11 Help. 12 Bounteous. Italians use "mal anno" in the same sense. 13 The spirit that on thee alighted; the Holy Ghost 2 Trick. through whose power Christ was conceived. 3 To put an ape in one's hood, on one's head, is to 14 Lightened, gladdened. befool or deceive him. 15 Skill, ability. 16 Scarcely. 4 Offend. 5 Judge, decide. 17 A quarter which the Jews were permitted to in6 Tales of the murder of children by Jews were fre- habit; the Old Jewry in London got its name in this quent in the Middle Ages, being probably designed to way. 18 Go, walk. 19 A young clerk or scholar. keep up the bitter feeling of the Christians against the 20 To study, go to school, was his wont. Jews. Not a few children were canonised on this ac- 21 Simple, innocent. 22 Learn. count; and the scene of the misdeeds was laid any- 23 Who, even in his swaddling clothes-so says the where and everywhere, so that Chaucer could be at no "Breviarium Romanum "-gave promise of extraloss for material. ordinary virtue and holiness; for, though he sucked 7 Psalms viii. 1, " Domine, dominus noster, quam freely on other days, on Wednesdays and Fridays he admirabile est nomen tuum in universe terra," applied to the breast only once, and that not until the 8 Praise. evening, THE PRIORESS'S TALE. 145 He Alma redemptoris hearde sing, What may your evil intente you avail? As children learned their aiphLonere; 2 Murder will out, certain it will not fail, And as he durst, he drew him n- re and nere,3 And namely 14 where th' honofir of God shall And hearken'd aye the wordis and the note, spread; Till he the firste verse knew all by rote. The blood out crieth on your cursed deed. Nought wist he what this Latin was to say,4 O martyr souded 15 to virginity, For he so young and tender was of age; Now may'st thou sing, and follow ever-in-one 16 But on a day his fellow gan he pray The white Lamb celestial (quoth she), To expound him this song in his language, Of which the great Evangelist Saint John Or tell him why this song was in usage: In Patmos wrote, which saith that they that This pray'd he him to construe and declare, gon Full oftentime upon his knees bare. Before this Lamb, and sing a song all new, His fellow, which that elder was than he, That never fleshly woman they ne knew.l7 Answer'd him thus: "This song, I have heard This poore widow waited all that night say, After her little child, but he came not; Was maked of our blissful Lady free, For which, as soon as it was daye's light, Her to salute, and eke her to pray With face pale, in dread and busy thought, To be our help andi