Chapter II: Act I: TIME: April 16th, 1387. Late afternoon

SCENE: The Tabard Inn at Southwark, near London.

_When the scene opens, about half of the PILGRIMS have
arrived; the others come in during the first part of the
act. Those already arrived are the MILLER, SHIPMAN, COOK,
PARSON, PLOUGHMAN, FRANKLIN, DOCTOR, FRIAR, HABERDASHER,
CARPENTER, WEAVER, DYER, TAPICER, CLERK, and CHAUCER._

_At rise of curtain, the HOST is just moving to receive
the KNIGHT, SQUIRE, and YEOMAN at the door, back. Chaucer
sits with a big volume on his knee in the corner by the
fireplace, left; right front, the Miller and the Cook are
wrestling, while those near look on._

COOK

Now, masters, see a miller eat bran!

MILLER

Corpus!
I’d liever wrastle with a butterfly.

SHIPMAN

Tackle him aft.

FRANKLIN

Grip, mon.

[_They clutch each other._]

A SERVING-MAID

[_Aside to Friar._]

A diamond pin?

FRIAR

[_Lisps slightly._]

One of thy glances stickéd through my heart!

[_Offers her the pin._]

SERVING-MAID

The Master is not looking now.

FRIAR

A bargain?

[_Maid nods, takes the pin, and hurries off to serve at table. Friar follows._]

HOST

Welcome, Sir Knight!

KNIGHT

Is this the Tabard Inn?

HOST

[_Points through the open door to his swinging sign._]

Lo yonder, sir, is Herry Bailey’s shirt
Flappeth in the wind; and this is Herry himself.

[_Claps his hands for a serving-boy._]

Knave!

WEAVER

[_Pounds on the table with a jug, while Carpenter tosses
dice._]

Ale, here! Ale!

[_A shout from the pilgrims, front._]

MILLER

[_Throwing the Cook._]

Down!

SHIPMAN

Jolly chuck!

COOK

[_Getting to his feet with a bloody nose and fisting._]

’Sblood! Thou--

FRANKLIN

Hold, Master Cook, sith thou hast licked the platter,
Go now and wash the gravy off thy nose.
Look to him, doctor.

DOCTOR

Here!

FRANKLIN

[_To the Miller._]

And thou shalt eat
A sop of wine with me. By God, thy hand!

PARSON

[_To Ploughman, drawing him away._]

He sweareth like Sathanas. Come!

PLOUGHMAN

Toot, brother!
A little swearing saveth from the gallows.

MILLER

[_Laughing at the Cook._]

His nose is like a tart.

CLERK

[_To Chaucer, feasting his eyes on his book._]

Grant pardon, sir.
In vanitate humanorum rerum,
I’ the world’s uproar, ’tis sweet to find a scholar.

CHAUCER

A book’s a mistress all the world may love
And none be jilted.

CLERK

Then am I in love.
What is the book?

CHAUCER

A medley, like its master,
Containing many divers characters,
Bound in one hide. Whoso shall read it through
He shall behold Troilus and Launcelot
Sighing in Cæsar’s face, and Scaramouche
Painting with grins the back of Aristotle.

CLERK

[_Sparkling._]

What!--Aristotle?

CHAUCER

[_Rising, hands him the volume._]

I prithee look it through.

CLERK

Grammercy--somewhat farther from the piping.

[_Draws farther away from the Squire, who is beginning to
play a few strains on his flute, in front of the fire._]

MAN OF LAW

[_Entering with_ MERCHANT.]

For this recognisance--

MERCHANT

The ship was wrecked.

MAN OF LAW

Depardieux! Then your property is flotsam
And liable to salvage. Therefore you
Will need me as your man-of-law.

KNIGHT

[_To Chaucer._]

I knew
You were a soldier by your bearing, sir.
You were at Cressy?

CHAUCER

Nay, Sir Knight, I played
With tin swords then. Though I have often fought
At Frenchmen’s heels, I was but six years old
When our Black Edward won his spurs.

KNIGHT

Runs time
So swiftly?--One and forty years ago!

HOST

[_To a serving-maid._]

Belive, wench!

FRIAR

[_Stealing a kiss from her._]

In principio--

HOST

What’s here?

MAID

The gentle friar!

HOST

Gentle flower-de-luce!

[_Makes after Friar, who dodges behind_ MISTRESS BAILEY.]

MISTRESS BAILEY

[_Shrewishly._]

Hold; goodman Herry! ’Tis a friend of mine.

[_Host retires; Friar mocks him._]

KNIGHT

I am returning from the Holy Land
And go to pay my vows at Canterbury.
This is my son.

CHAUCER

Go you to Canterbury
As well, Sir Squire?

[_The Squire, putting down his flute, sighs deeply._]

KNIGHT

My son, the gentleman
Accosts thee!

SQUIRE

Noble gentleman--Ah me!

[_He turns away._]

CHAUCER

[_Follows him._]

My dearest heart and best beloved foe,
Why liketh you to do me all this woe?
What have I done that grieveth you, or said,
Save that I love and serve you, high and low?
And whilst I live I will do ever so.
Wherefore, my sweet, do not that I be dead;
For good and fair and gentle as ye be,
It were great wonder if but that ye had
A thousand thousand servants, good and bad:
The most unworthiest servant--I am he!

SQUIRE

Sir, by my lady’s grace, you are a poet
And lover, like myself. We shall be brothers.
But pardon, sir, those verses are not yours.
Dan Chaucer wrote them. Ah, sir, know you Chaucer?

CHAUCER

Twelve stone of him!

SQUIRE

Would _I_ did! Is he not
An amorous divinity? Looks he
Like pale Leander, or some ancient god?

CHAUCER

Sooth, he is like old Bacchus round the middle.

SQUIRE

How acts he when in love? What feathers wears he?
Doth he sigh oft? What lady doth he serve?
Oh!

[_At a smile from Chaucer, he starts back and looks at him
in awe; then hurries to the Knight. Chaucer walks among the
pilgrims, talking with them severally._]

MILLER

[_To Franklin._]

Ten gallon ale? God’s arms! I take thee.

MAN OF LAW

What’s
The wager?

FRANKLIN

Yonder door; this miller here
Shall break it, at a running, with his head.
The door is oak. The stakes ten gallon ale.

SHIPMAN

Ho, then, I bet the miller shall be drunk.

MERCHANT

What bet?

SHIPMAN

Twelve crown upon the miller.

MERCHANT

Done.

[_At the door appears the_ PRIORESS, _accompanied by a_ NUN
_and her three_ PRIESTS, _one of whom_, JOANNES, _carries a
little pup. The Host hurries up with a reverence._]

HOST

Welcome, my lady dear. Vouchsafe to enter
Poor Herry Bailey’s inn.

PRIORESS

Merci.

HOST

[_To a serving-boy._]

Knave, show
My lady Prioress to the blue chamber
Where His Majesty, King Richard, slept.

PRIORESS

Joannes,
Mark, Paulus, stay! have you the little hound
Safe?

JOANNES

Yes, my lady.

PRIORESS

Carry him before,
But carefully.

MILLER

[_To Yeoman._]

Here, nut-head, hold my hood.

YEOMAN

Wilt try bareheaded?

FRIAR

’Mass!

FRANKLIN

Ho, for a skull!
Miller, thou art as tough a knot as e’er
The Devil tied. By God, mine ale is spilled.

[_The priests and Prioress have just reached the door, left
front, which the Miller is preparing to ram._]

PLOUGHMAN

The door is locked.

JOANNES

But, sir, the Prioress--

SHIPMAN

Heigh! Clear the decks!

[_The Miller, with clenched fists, and head doubled over, runs
for the door._]

YEOMAN

Harrow!

PARSON

Run, Robin.

GUILD-MEN

[_Rise from their dice._]

Ho!

[_With a crash, the Miller’s head strikes the door and
splits it. At the shock, he rebounds against Joannes, and
reaching to save himself from falling, seizes the puppy._]

MILLER

A twenty devils!

GUILD-MEN

[_All but the Weaver, clambering over the table._]

Come on!

PLOUGHMAN

[_To the Miller._]

What aileth thee?

MILLER

The priest hath bit my hand.

JOANNES

Sweet sir, the puppy--
It was the puppy, sir.

MILLER

Wring me its neck.

PRIORESS

Alas, Joannes--help!

MILLER

By Corpus bones!
Give me the cur.

PRIORESS

St. Loy! Will no one help?

CHAUCER

Madame, what may I do?

PRIORESS

My little hound--
The churl--My little hound! The churl will hurt it.
If you would fetch to me my little hound--

CHAUCER

Madame, I’d fetch you Cerberus from hell.

MILLER

Lo, masters! See a dog’s neck wrung!

CHAUCER

[_Breaking through the crowd, seizes the Miller by the throat._]

Which dog’s?

MILLER

Leave go!--’Sdeath! Take the whelp, a devil’s name.

CHAUCER

Kneel! Ask grace of this lady here.

MILLER

[_Sullenly._]

What lady?

CHAUCER

Of her whom gentles call St. Charity
In every place and time.--

[_Turns then towards Prioress._]

What other name
This lady bears, I have not yet been honoured
With knowing.--Kneel!

MILLER

[_Morosely; kneels._]

Lady, I axe your pardon.

CHAUCER

Madame, your little hound is safe.

PRIORESS

[_Nestles the little hound with tender effusiveness; then
turns shyly to Chaucer._]

Merci!
My name is Madame Eglantine.

[_Hurries out, left._]

CHAUCER

[_Aside._]

Hold, Geoffrey!
Yon beastie’s quaking side thumped not as thine
Thumps now. And wilt thou ape a little hound?
Ah, Madame Eglantine, unless ye be
To me, as well as him, St. Charity!

FRANKLIN

Who is the man?

MILLER

The Devil, by his eye.
They say King Richard hath to court a wrastler
Can grip ten men. I guess that he be him.

COOK

Ho! milksop of a miller!

MILLER

[_Seizing him._]

Say it twice;
What?

COOK

Nay, thou art a bull at bucking doors.

FRANKLIN

Let ribs be hoops for twenty gallon ale
And stop your wind-bags. Come.

MILLER

[_With a grin, follows the Franklin._]

By Corpus bones!

SHIPMAN

Twelve crown.

MERCHANT

Twelve, say you? See my man-of-law.

WEAVER

[_Springs to his feet._]

The throw is mine!

DYER

A lie! When we were away
You changed the dice!

WEAVER

My throw was cinq and three.

DYER

A lie! Have it in your gullet!

[_Draws his knife. They fight._]

CARPENTER

Part them!

TAPICER

Back!

HOST

Harrow! Dick Weaver, hold! Fie, Master Dyer,
Here’s not a dyeing stablishment; we want
No crimson cloth--Clap hands now: Knave, more ale.

CHAUCER

[_To the Doctor._]

If then, as by hypothesis, this cook
Hath broke his nose, it follows first that we
Must calculate the ascendent of his image.

DOCTOR

Precisely! Pray proceed. I am fortunate
To have met a fellow-doctor at this inn.

CHAUCER

Next, treating him by magic natural,
Provide him well with old authorities,
As Esculapius, Diescorides,
Damascien, Constantinus, Averrois,
Hippocrates, Serapion, Razis,
Bernardus, Galienus, Gilbertinus--

DOCTOR

But, sir, the fellow cannot read--

CHAUCER

Why, true;
Then there remains but one sure remedy,
Thus: bid him, fasting, when the moon is wane,
And Venus rises in the house of Pisces,
To rub it nine times with a herring’s tail.

DOCTOR

Yea, Pisces is a fish.--I thank you, sir.

[_He hurries off to the Cook, whose nose he has patched._]

HOST

[_To the Reeve, who enters._]

God save thee, Osewold! What’s o’clock? Thou look’st
As puckered as a pear at Candlemas.

REEVE

There be too many folk i’ the world; and none
Is ripe till he be rotten.

[_Sits at table._]

Penny’orth ale!

SQUIRE

My lord, father!

KNIGHT

Well, son?

SQUIRE

[_Looking at Chaucer._]

Sir, saw you ever
So knightly, sweet, and sovereign a man,
With eyes so glad and shrewdly innocent?
O, when I laid my hand in his, and looked
Into his eyes, meseemed I rode on horse
Into the April open fields, and heard
The larks upsinging in the sun. Sir, have
You guessed who ’tis?

KNIGHT

To judge him by his speech,
Some valiant officer.

SQUIRE

Nay, _I_ have guessed.

[_A merry jingling of bells outside. Enter the Monk, holding
up a dead swan._]

MONK

Soft! Handle not the fat swan. Give it me.
Bailey, I’ll learn thy cook to turn a spit.

[_Exit, right. Enter, left, Joannes._]

CHAUCER

[_To Ploughman._]

Aye, man, but weather is the ploughman’s wife
To take for worse or better. If thy loam
Be thin, and little snow, which is the best
Manure, then thou must dung thy furrows twice
’Twixt Michelmas and March.

PLOUGHMAN

Aye, but but--

JOANNES

Sir Knight,
This letter....

CHAUCER

What! from whom?

PLOUGHMAN

Toot! Canst thou read, mon?

JOANNES

This letter, sir, my Lady Prioress--

CHAUCER

From Madame Eglantine? Waits she an answer?

JOANNES

So please you, sir.

CHAUCER

Sweet saints!

[_Takes the letter and reads, aside._]

PLOUGHMAN

[_Watches Chaucer curiously._]

Aye, ’e can read it.

[_Outside, is heard the distant voice of the Wife of Bath_
(ALISOUN), _joined in chorus by the_ PARDONER, MANCIPLE,
_and_ SUMMONER, _singing_.]

ALISOUN

When folk o’ Faerie
Are laughing in the laund,
And the nix pipes low in the miller’s pond,
Come hither, love, to me.

[_Chorus._]

With doe and with dove,
Come back to your love.
Come hither, love, to me.

CHAUCER

[_Reading the Prioress’s letter, as the song outside sounds nearer._]

“Monsieur l’inconnu Chevalier--

These greetings shall apprise you that the little hound
is convalescent, and now suffereth from nothing save a
sore necessity for nourishment. Wherefore, being cast in
holy pilgrimage upon this revelous inn, I appeal once
more, gentil monsieur, to your honourable chivalry, of
which I beseech you this favour, to wit; that you shall
see prepared and delivered into the hands of Joannes, my
priest, a recipe as follows:--

One ounce of wastel-bread, toasted a pleasant brown;
One little cup of fresh milk;
Soak the former in the latter, till the sand-glass shall be
run half out;
Then sprinkle sparingly with sweet root of beet, rubbed fine.
Serve neatly.

MADAME EGLANTINE.”

SHIPMAN

[_At the door, to Friar, who is starting to flirt with a third serving-maid._]

Hist! Who’s yon jolly Nancy riding here,
With them three tapsters tooting up behind?

FRIAR

By sweet St. Cuthbert!

SHIPMAN

Ha! ye ken the wench.

FRIAR

The wench? Oho! Thou sayest well. List, sir;
List, gentle Mariner! Thy wench hath been
A five times wedded and five hundred woo’d;
Hath rode alone to sweet Jerusalem
And back more oft than Dick-the-Lion’s-Heart;
And in her right ear she is deaf as stone,
Because, she saith, that once with her right ear
She listened to a lusty Saracen.
She was not born a-yesterday, yet, by
The merry mass, when she comes in the door,
She maketh sweet-sixteen as stale as dough.

SHIPMAN

She looks a jolly Malkin. What’s her name?

FRIAR

Dame Alisoun, a cloth-maker of Bath.

CHAUCER

[_Reading._]

“P.S. Let not the under-side be toasted as brown as the
upper.

P.P.S. The milk should not be skimmed.”

[_Laughs to himself._]

“A little cup of milk and wastel-bread!”
Haha!--A gentle heroine for a tale!
My heart is lost.

[_To Joannes, who is trembling at the Miller._]

What, fellow, art thou scared?
Come with me to the kitchen.

JOANNES

[_Follows timidly._]

Ben’cite! [_Exeunt._]

[_Outside the song, “Come hither, Love,” bursts into
chorus. Enter the_ WIFE OF BATH, _astride a small white
ass, which is fancifully caparisoned like a fairy creature.
Spurs jingle on the Wife’s boots, and on her head is a
great round hat. Followed by the_ SUMMONER, PARDONER, _and_
MANCIPLE, _she rides into the middle of the floor and reins
up._]

ALISOUN

Whoa-oop!--God save this merry company!

[_A commotion._]

By God, I ween ye ken not what I am:
I am the jolly elf-queen, and this is
My milk-white doe, whereon I ride as light
As Robin Good-boy on a bumble-bee;

[_Indicating the ass’s ears._]

These be his wings.--
And lo--my retinue!
These here be choir-boys from Fairy-land.
Come, Pardoner, toot up my praise anon.

PARDONER AND ALISOUN [_sing_]

When sap runs in the tree,
And the huntsman sings “Halloo!”
And the greenwood saith: “Peewit! Cuckoo!”
Come hither, love, to me.

SWAINS AND ALISOUN

With turtle and plover,
Come back to your lover.
Come hither, love, to me.

ALISOUN

Now, lads, the chorus!

[_The Swains and Alisoun, joined by several other pilgrims,
repeat chorus._]

MILLER

Nails and blood! Again!

FRIAR

Encore!

ALISOUN

Nay lads, the song hath dried my whistle.
The first that fetches me a merry jug
Shall kiss my lily-white hand.

[_The Swains, with a shout, scramble to get ale of the tapster._]

SWAINS

Here, ale here! ale!

HOST

Slow, masters! Turtle wins the rabbit race.

MILLER

[_Offers his tankard, tipsily._]

Give’s thy hand, girl.

ALISOUN

Thou art drunk! ’Tis empty.

MILLER

Well, ’tis a jug. Ye said “a merry jug.”

ALISOUN

Pardee! I’ll keep my word.

MILLER

[_Grinning, raises his face to her._]

A kiss?

ALISOUN

A smack!

[_Flings the tankard at his head._]

MILLER

[_Dodging it._]

Harrow!

THE OTHER SWAINS

[_Pell-mell._]

Here! here! Take mine!

FRIAR

Drink, sweet Queen Mab!

[_Re-enter Chaucer and Joannes. Chaucer carries in his
hand a crock._]

ALISOUN

[_To the Friar._]

What, Huberd, are ye there? Ye are too late,
All o’ ye! The elf-queen spies her Oberon.

[_Wheeling the ass to confront Chaucer._]

By God, sir, you’re the figure of a man
For me.--Give me thy name.

CHAUCER

Your Majesty,
This is most sudden. Dare I hope you would
Have me bestow my humble name upon you?

ALISOUN

Make it a swap, mon. Mine is Alisoun,
And lads they ken me as the Wife of Bath!

CHAUCER

My name is Geoffrey. When the moon is full,
I am an elf and skip upon the green;
By my circumference fairy-rings are drawn,
And lasses ken me as the Elvish Knight.

SQUIRE

[_Aside._]

Father, ’tis he--the poet laureate!

KNIGHT

Brother-in-law to John of Gaunt?

SQUIRE

The same.

SHIPMAN

[_Offers his mug again._]

Take this, old girl.

ALISOUN

The devil take a tar.

[_Snatches the crock from Chaucer’s hand._]

I’ll take a swig from Geoffrey’s.--Holy Virgin!
What pap is this here? Milk and wastel-bread?

CHAUCER

Nay, ’tis a kind of brew concocted from
The milky way, to nurse unmarried maids.

ALISOUN

[_Hands it back quickly._]

Saints! None o’ that for me.

CHAUCER

[_Aside to Joannes._]

Bear it to your mistress.

ALISOUN

[_Aside._]

Mistress? Aha!--A woman in the case.

[_Aloud._]

Give us your hand, Sir Knight o’ the Wastel-bread,
And help me light adown.--
What! Are ye afeared
To take me in your arms?

CHAUCER

Sweet Alisoun,
Thou art a vision of the ruddy Venus
Bright pommelled on the unspotted Pegasus,
And I am Ganymede, thy stable boy.

[_He helps her to alight._]

ALISOUN

Well swung! What think ye of my jolly heft?

CHAUCER

Thou art a very dandelion seed
And I thy zephyr.

MILLER

[_To the Swains._]

’Sblood! He steals our wench.

SQUIRE

[_Approaching Chaucer diffidently, speaks under his breath._]

Great Master Chaucer.

CHAUCER

Hush! Speak not my name.

[_Takes the Squire aside._]

ALISOUN

Halloa! what’s struck this jolly company?
Ye’re flat as stale ale. Master Summoner, what’s
The matter now? Ye should be glad at heart
To wear so merry a bonfire in your face.

SUMMONER

Was it for this I sang, “Come hither, Love”?

COOK

Aye, was it for this?

ALISOUN

What, Roger Hogge, yourself?
How long, bird, have you worn a gallows-warrant
Upon your nose?

[_The others hoot._]

COOK

As long, Dame Alisoun,
As you have had a hogshead for a sweetheart.

ALISOUN

Geoffrey, ye mean? Ho! Are ye jealous there?

[_To the Shipman._]

Jack, too, and hast a wife to home at Dartmouth?
Hark, lads! This Jealousy is but a ninny;
For though there be a nine-and-twenty stars,
Yet Jealousy stares only at the moon.
Lo! I myself have made a vow ’twixt here
And holy Thomas’ shrine to twig a husband;
But if I like this fellow Geoffrey, can’t
I like ye all? By God, give me your fists;
And I will tip ye a secret.

[_Mysteriously._]

I am deef!
Ye ken all great folks have some great defect:
Cupid is blind and Alisoun is deef;
But Cupid--he can wink the t’other eye,
And Alis--she can ope the t’other ear.

FRIAR

Sweet Alis, which is deaf?

ALISOUN

I said, the t’other.

FRIAR

Nay, but which ear, the right or left?

ALISOUN

Love, if
Ye guess the right ye won’t be left: how’s that?
So, fellows, ye can knock at either door;
And while Tom standeth scraping the front mat,
By God then, Dick, go rap at the side porch;
The t’other door is locked; I say not which.

[_Laughing and boxing their ears as they try, in turn, to
whisper to her, she leads them to the ale-barrel, where
they drink._]

FRIAR

Sweet brethren, drink with me to t’other ear!

ALISOUN

Here’s pot-luck to you all, lads!

PARDONER.

[_Who has spread out his relics in another part of the room._]

Pardons! pardons!
Offer your nobles now; spoons, brooches, rings:
Radix malorum est cupiditas.

CHAUCER

[_Aside to Squire._]

Pray, speak no word of who I am. I ride
To Canterbury now, to bid farewell
My kinsman, John of Gaunt. But on the road,
I travel here incognito.

SQUIRE

But, sir,
At least, beseech you, let me guard your person;
So mean an inn, such raw folk, must offend
King Richard’s royal poet.

CHAUCER

Not so, lad.
To live a king with kings, a clod with clods,
To be at heart a bird of every feather,
A fellow of the finch as well as the lark,
The equal of each, brother of every man:
_That_ is to be a poet, and to blow
Apollo’s pipe with every breath you breathe.
Therefore, sweet boy, don’t label me again
In this good company.

SQUIRE

I will not, sir--

[_Aside._]

A god! A very god!

PARDONER

Here’s relics! pardons!
Offer your nobles now; spoons, brooches, rings!
Lordings, step up! Pardons from Rome all hot.

[_A crowd gathers round him._]

PARSON

[_Lifting a relic._]

What’s this?

PARDONER

That, master, is the shoulder-bone
Of a sheep once slaughtered by a holy Jew.
Take heed, lordings, take heed! What man is here
That hath to home a well?

SEVERAL

I! I!

PARDONER

Pay heed!
Let any man take this same shoulder-bone
And chuck it in his well, and if he own
A cow, or calf, or ass, which hath the pox,
Take water from that well, and wash its tongue.
Presto! It shall be well again.

PLOUGHMAN

[_To the Parson._]

By Mary,
I’ll try it on Mol.

PARDONER

Hark, lordings, what I say!
If also the goodman that owns the beasts
Shall, fasting, before cock-crow, drink three draughts
Of that same well, his store shall multiply.

PARSON

My word!

FRANKLIN

Nay, that’s worth while.

PARDONER

List what I say!
Also, if any wife shall boil a broth
Of this same bone, it healeth jealousy.

ALISOUN

Ho! give it me! And every fellow here
Shall suck the marrow-bone.

PARDONER

What will you offer?

ALISOUN

[_Throws a kiss._]

That’s all ye get o’ me.

PARSON

I’ll give a florin.

PARDONER

Done, Master Parson. Listen, lordings, list!
This is a piece o’ the sail St. Peter had
When he walked on the sea; and lo! this cloth--

ALISOUN

A pillow-case!

PARDONER

This is the Virgin’s veil.
And in this crystal glass behold--

ALISOUN

Pig’s bones!

[_Slaps Chaucer on the shoulder._]

What, Geoffrey lad! Which will ye liever kiss,
A dead saint’s bones, or a live lass--her lips?

[_Enter, L., the Prioress._]

CHAUCER

Why, Alisoun, I say all flesh is grave-clothes,
And lips the flowers that blossom o’er our bones;
God planted ’em to bloom in laughter’s sunshine
And April kissing-showers.

[_Laughing, he kisses Alisoun and faces the Prioress._]

St. Charity!

ALISOUN

Haha! That time I had thee on the rump.

[_She calls the Friar aside, R._]

PRIORESS

[_Starting to go._]

Je vous demande pardong, Monsieur.

CHAUCER

Madame,
Qu’est ce que je puis faire pour elle?

PRIORESS

Rien, rien.

CHAUCER

Madame, mais si vous saviez comme je meurs
De vous servir--

PRIORESS

You speak patois,
Monsieur; _I_ studied French in Stratford-at-the-Bowe.

CHAUCER

Your accent is adorably--unique.

PRIORESS

[_Is about to melt, but sees Alisoun._]

And you a gentilhomme--at least I thought so
Whenas you saved my little hound--Ah, sir!

CHAUCER

Adam was our first father: I’m her brother.

PRIORESS

You meant no more?

CHAUCER

Her brother and your servant,
Madame. And for the rest, I ride to Canterbury:
I will absolve me at St. Thomas’ shrine.

PRIORESS

[_Eagerly._]

Go you to Canterbury?

CHAUCER

With the rest.

PRIORESS

Oh! I am glad--that is, I came to ask you.
Know you, Monsieur, where lies upon the way
A little thorp men call Bob-up-and-down?

CHAUCER

Right well--we pass it on the road.

PRIORESS

We do?
Merci.

[_Going._]

MILLER

[_Amid uproar, drinks to Alisoun._]

Lend me thy t’other ear.

[_Startled, the Prioress returns to Chaucer. Behind them,
the Friar, at a sign from Alisoun, listens unobserved._]

PRIORESS

You see--
I expect to meet my brother on the road.
He is returning from the Holy Land;
I am to meet him at the One Nine-pin,
A tavern at Bob-up-and-down. But--

CHAUCER

But?

PRIORESS

I have not seen him since I was a child.
I have forgotten how he looks.

CHAUCER

He is
Returning from the Holy Land?

PRIORESS

And has
His son with him, for squire. He is a knight.

CHAUCER

[_Aside, looking at the Knight and Squire._]

A son--his squire? Good Lord!

PRIORESS

And so, Monsieur,
I’m boldened by your courtesy to ask
Your help to find him at Bob-up-and-down,
Till which--your kind protection on the road.

[_More uproar, R._]

CHAUCER

But--

PRIORESS

Have I asked too much?

CHAUCER

Madame, I am honoured.

[_Hesitatingly._]

How, then, am I to recognise your brother?

PRIORESS

He wears a ring, on which is charactered
The letter “A,” and after, writ, in Latin,
The same inscription as is fashioned here
Upon my brooch. I may not take it off,
For I did promise him to wear it always.
But look, sir, here’s the motto. Can you read it?

[_She extends her hand, from the bracelet of which dangles a
brooch. The Friar draws nearer._]

CHAUCER

I thank you.

[_Reads._]

“Amor vincit omnia.”

[_Looking at her._]

“Love conquers all.”

PRIORESS

C’est juste, Monsieur. Adieu!

[_Exit, L._]

FRIAR

[_Making off to Alisoun._]

Hist! “Amor vincit omnia,” Sweet Alis!

[_After talking aside with Alisoun he goes to the Knight._]

CHAUCER

[_Aside, looking at the Knight and Squire._]

A morning’s canter to Bob-up-and-down!
“Till which--my kind protection on the road.”
When last they met, she was a little child;
Besides, I will make verses for his son.
A morning’s canter--time, the month of April--
Place, Merry England--Why not Lord Protector
Geoffrey? Her brother! What’s a suit of armor?
Nay! “Amor vincit omnia.”

[_Turns away._]

FRIAR

[_To the Knight, whose finger-ring he examines._]

How quaint, sir!
A crownèd “A” and underneath a motto.

KNIGHT

Quite so.

FRIAR

Merci!

[_Returns quickly to Alisoun._]

ALISOUN

Her brother--the One Nine-pin?

FRIAR

To-morrow.

ALISOUN

Good.

FRIAR

Sweet Alisoun--my pay?

ALISOUN

Saith holy Brother Huberd? Love’s reward
Is service.

[_Aside, eyeing Chaucer, who passes her._]

Corpus Venus! What a figure!
I’ll woo him. Ay; but first to rid me of
These other fellows.

[_To the Friar._]

Hist!
In Peggy’s stall--
Peggy’s my milk-white doe--in Peggy’s stall,
Thou’lt find another jolly beggar, waits
To dun me.

FRIAR

Ho! A rendezvous?

ALISOUN

A trysting.
Go, for my love, and play the wench for me,
And nab him by the ears until I come.

FRIAR

St. Cupid, I am game. In Peggy’s stall?

[_Exit._]

[_Alisoun whispers aside individually to the Shipman and Manciple, who exeunt at different doors._]

CARPENTER

Sack? Sack in the cellarage?

WEAVER

Come on, let’s tap it.

[_Exeunt with a number of others._]

SUMMONER

[_At table, trying to rise._]

Qu--questio quid juris?

COOK

Now he’s drunk
You’ll get no more from him but “hic, hac, hoc.”

ALISOUN

[_Aside to the Miller._]

And hold him till I come.

MILLER

In Peggy’s stall?
His ears shall be an ell long!--Pull his ears!

[_Exit._]

CLERK

[_Dazedly to Chaucer, returning him his book._]

I thank you, sir. Is this the Tabard Inn?
So then I’m back again. Such mighty voyages
The mind sails in a book!

[_He walks slowly forth into the air. Chaucer sits again by
the fireplace, with the book on his knees._]

ALISOUN

[_Aside to the Cook._]

Hold fast, and wait.

COOK

In Peggy’s stall?

ALISOUN

Aye.

COOK

Ears for nose, Bob Miller.

[_Exit._]

CHAUCER

[_Aside._]

In Peggy’s stall,
“Love conquers all.”

[_Except for the drunken Summoner, Alisoun and Chaucer
are now alone._]

ALISOUN

[_To the Summoner, lifting his head from the table._]

Ho, cockerel! Perk up thy bill.

SUMMONER

Quid juris?

ALISOUN

Cluck! Cluck! How pretty Red-comb chucketh. Hark!

[_Throwing her arms round his neck, she whispers in his ear._]

SUMMONER

A pax! What did a’ say? A pax upon him.
A’ said a’d pull my ears--in Peggy’s stall?
By questio! a brimstone-cherub--me!

[_Rising._]

Quid juris! Blood shall spurt. By quid! His nose
Shall have a pax. By nails! A bloody quid!

[_Seizing up from the table a round loaf for a shield and a
long loaf for a sword, he reels out._]

ALISOUN

[_Laughing._]

So, Peggy, they shall woo thy lily-white hoof,
While Alisoun doth keep her rendezvous.

[_Comes over to Chaucer._]

Ho, candle! Come out from thy bushel.

CHAUCER

[_Peering over the edge of his book._]

Nay,
’Tis a dark world to shine in; I will read.

ALISOUN

A book! Toot! My fifth husband was a clerk;
He catched more learning _on_ his head than in it.
What is’t about?

CHAUCER

The wickedness of woman.

ALISOUN

A man, then, wrote it. If you men will write,
We wives will keep ye busy. Read’s a snack.

CHAUCER

[_Pretending to read._]

“Whoso that builds his mansion all of mallows,
Whoso that spurs his blind horse over the fallows,
Whoso that lets his wife seek shrines and hallows,
Is worthy to be hanged on the gallows.”

ALISOUN

Chuck that to another dog. My man is dead.

CHAUCER

[_Imperturbably._]

“A lovely woman, chaste, is like a rose;
Unchaste, a ring of gold in a sow’s nose.”

ALISOUN

Lo, what a pretty preaching pardoner!
“Offer your nobles now; spoons, brooches, rings!”
Cork up thy froth, a devil’s name! Come, play.

CHAUCER

“Better it is to dwell high on the roof
Than down i’ the house where woman wields reproof.”
O what a list of ladies! What a world!
Hark, Alisoun! and after thou hast heard,
Repent, and cease to be a woman. Hark!
“Who first obeyed the snake’s advice, to thieve
The apple from God’s Eden?--Mother Eve.”

ALISOUN

That’s Adam’s whopper. He stole it and hid in’s throat:
Feel o’ your own; the apple sticks there yet.

CHAUCER

[_Dramatically._]

“Who from great Samson’s brow hath slyly shorn
His strength? Delila, answer to thy scorn.
O Hercules! What woman-shaped chimaera
Gave thee the poisoned cloak? Thy Deianira.
O pate of Socrates! Who from the steepy
Housetop upset the slop-pail? Thy Xantippe!
Yea, speeding her lover through the dark finestra,
Who hath her husband slain, but Clytemnestra!
Thou, too, O Cleopatra--”

ALISOUN

[_Tearing a page out of the book, boxes Chaucer on the cheek._]

Hold thy gab!
A devil fetch thy drasty book!

CHAUCER

Hold, hold,
Dame Alis! gentle Alisoun--

[_Recovers the torn page._]

ALISOUN

Hoot-toot!
Are ye so dainty with a dirty parchment
And so slipshod to smirch our reputations?
You men! God’s arms! What ken ye of true women?
You stuff one doll and name it Modesty,
And bid her mince and giggle, hang her head
And ogle in her sleeve; another poppet
You make of snow and name St. Innocence:
She sits by moonlight in a silver night-gown
And sighs love-Latin in a nunnery.
By Corpus bones! is not a mare a horse?
A woman is but man; and both one beast--
A lusty animal, for field or harness.
But no! ye sanctify a squeamish mule;
And when an honest wench, that speaks her mind,
Meets a fine lad and slaps him on the buttock,
And says out plat: “Thou art a man: I love thee--”
She is a sinner, and your doll a saint.

CHAUCER

Alis, thou speak’st like one in jealousy.

ALISOUN

Why, Geoffrey, so I am. To tell thee flat,
I’m jealous of thy Lady Prioress.

CHAUCER

Peace, dame. Speak not her name with mine.

ALISOUN

Aye, go it,
Miss Innocence and Master Modesty!
How’s that?

CHAUCER

Dame Alisoun, it is enough.

ALISOUN

Why, then, it is enough. Come, lad; clap hands.
I am a bud of old experience,
Whom frost ne’er yet hath nipped. In love, I’ve danced
The waltz and minuet. Therefore, sweet Geoffrey,
This Prioress wears a brooch upon her wrist.

CHAUCER

Well, what of that?

ALISOUN

Yea, “What of that?” Good soul!
She stops to-morrow at Bob-up-and-down.

CHAUCER

How knowest thou?

ALISOUN

Nay, t’other ear is wise.
At the One Nine-pin she shall meet--

CHAUCER

Her brother.

ALISOUN

What wilt thou bet she goes to meet her brother?

CHAUCER

Why, anything.

ALISOUN

Hear that! As though a veil
Were perfect warrant of virginity.
What wilt thou bet she goeth not to meet
Her leman--aye, her lover?

CHAUCER

Thou art daft.

ALISOUN

Lo, subtle man! He robs a poor wife’s wits
To insure his lady’s honour.

CHAUCER

Tush, tush, dame.
The very brooch she wears, her brother gave her,
For whose sake she hath even promised never
To take it off.

ALISOUN

Wilt _bet_ me?

CHAUCER

Bet away!

ALISOUN

Ho, then, it is a bet, and this the stakes:
If that my Lady Prioress shall give
Yon brooch of gold from off her pretty wrist,
Unto the man whom she expects to meet,
And that same man prove not to be her brother,
Then thou shalt marry me at Canterbury.

CHAUCER

A twenty of thee, dame. But if thou lose
The stakes, then thou shalt kneel a-down and kiss
Yon brooch of gold upon her pretty wrist,
And pray the saints to heal thy jealousy.

ALISOUN

Aye, man, it is a bet; and here’s my fist.

CHAUCER

And here’s mine, Alis; thou art a good fellow.

[_An uproar outside._]

What row is this?

ALISOUN

Here comes my rendezvous.

[_Enter in tumult, the Friar, Miller, Cook, Shipman,
Summoner, and Manciple, holding fast to one another’s ears.
They call out, partly in chorus._]

FRIAR

He’s nabbed, sweet Alisoun.

MILLER

Here is the lousel.

SUMMONER

I’ve got his quids.

COOK

I stalled him.

ALISOUN

Hang fast, hold him!
Ho! fetch him down. [_Laughing._] O Geoffrey, here’s a wooing!

CHAUCER

Yea; “Amor vincit omnia.”

ALL THE SWAINS

Here he is!

ALISOUN

Leave go.

[_They let go ears._]

Where is the knave?

ALL

[_Pointing at one another._]

There.

ALISOUN

Which one?

ALL

[_Pointing at one another._]

Him!

ALISOUN

So, so! Hath Peggy jilted all of ye,
That took such pains to grow you asses’ ears?
Fie! Peg’s a jade--come back to Alisoun;
She’ll learn ye the true dance of love.

ALL

The devil!

CHAUCER

Nay, Robin Huberd, Roger--lads, chirk up.
These be the thorny steps of Purgatory
That lead ye to your Beatrice of Bath.
When ye attain unto her t’other ear--

[_They groan._]

FRIAR

We have attained unto it.

ALISOUN

[_To Chaucer._]

Go thy ways!

[_Draws them aside._]

Come here, sweethearts! Hark! I have made a bet
With goodman Geoffrey yonder. Him as helps
Me best to win my bet, by God! he shall
Make merry for my marriage. Come, which fellow
Will help me?

ALL

I!

ALISOUN

The best shall make me bride.

[_A kitchen-boy blows a horn._]

BOY

[_Shouts._]

Meat!

[_Servants enter with steaming trenchers; the other
pilgrims come in and seat themselves at the table. The
Prioress stands hesitating. Chaucer goes to meet her._]

HOST

[_Rises on a bench._]

Lordings, who goes to Canterbury?

ALL

I!

CHAUCER

[_Offers his arm to the Prioress._]

Madame, will you vouchsafe to me the honour?

PRIORESS

[_With a stately courtesy._]

Merci.

ALISOUN

[_Imitating the Prioress, takes his other arm._]

Merci!

[_Chaucer escorts them both to the table, where he sits between
them._]

HOST

Lordings! Now hearkneth to a merry game.
To-morrow when you canter by the way
It is no mirth to ride dumb as a stone.
I say--let every fellow tell a tale
To short the time, and him as tells the best
You’ll give a supper here when ye return.
Lo! I myself will ride with you and judge.
If ye assent, hold up your hands.

ALL

Aye! Aye!

HOST

To-morrow then to Canterbury!

ALL

To Canterbury!

[_Amid the babbling din of eating, drinking, and laughter,
Alisoun leans across Chaucer’s trencher towards the
Prioress._]

ALISOUN

Who is the lean wench, Geoffrey?

PRIORESS

By St. Loy!

=Explicit pars prima.=

ACT SECOND

“Whan that Aprille with his shoures sote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the rote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe cours y-ronne,
And smale fowles maken melodye,
That slepen al the night with open ye,
(So pricketh hem nature in hir corages):
Then longen folk to goon on pilgrimages.”