Chapter D: Laing Purves (12)

Placebo said; “O January, brother, Full little need have ye, my lord so dear, Counsel to ask of any that is here: But that ye be so full of sapience, That you not liketh, for your high prudence, To waive* from the word of Solomon. *depart, deviate This word said he unto us every one; Work alle thing by counsel, — thus said he, — And thenne shalt thou not repente thee But though that Solomon spake such a word, Mine owen deare brother and my lord, So wisly* God my soule bring at rest, *surely I hold your owen counsel is the best. For, brother mine, take of me this motive; * *advice, encouragement I have now been a court-man all my life, And, God it wot, though I unworthy be, I have standen in full great degree Aboute lordes of full high estate; Yet had I ne’er with none of them debate; I never them contraried truely. I know well that my lord can* more than I; *knows What that he saith I hold it firm and stable, I say the same, or else a thing semblable. A full great fool is any counsellor That serveth any lord of high honour That dare presume, or ones thinken it; That his counsel should pass his lorde’s wit. Nay, lordes be no fooles by my fay. Ye have yourselfe shewed here to day So high sentence,* so holily and well *judgment, sentiment That I consent, and confirm *every deal* *in every point* Your wordes all, and your opinioun By God, there is no man in all this town Nor in Itale, could better have y-said. Christ holds him of this counsel well apaid.* *satisfied And truely it is a high courage Of any man that stopen* is in age, *advanced <6> To take a young wife, by my father’s kin; Your hearte hangeth on a jolly pin. Do now in this matter right as you lest, For finally I hold it for the best.”

Justinus, that aye stille sat and heard, Right in this wise to Placebo answer’d. “Now, brother mine, be patient I pray, Since ye have said, and hearken what I say. Senec, among his other wordes wise, Saith, that a man ought him right well advise,* *consider To whom he gives his hand or his chattel. And since I ought advise me right well To whom I give my good away from me, Well more I ought advise me, pardie, To whom I give my body: for alway I warn you well it is no childe’s play To take a wife without advisement. Men must inquire (this is mine assent) Whe’er she be wise, or sober, or dronkelew,* *given to drink Or proud, or any other ways a shrew, A chidester,* or a waster of thy good, *a scold Or rich or poor; or else a man is wood.* *mad Albeit so, that no man finde shall None in this world, that *trotteth whole in all,* *is sound in No man, nor beast, such as men can devise,* every point* *describe But nathehess it ought enough suffice With any wife, if so were that she had More goode thewes* than her vices bad: * qualities And all this asketh leisure to inquere. For, God it wot, I have wept many a tear Full privily, since I have had a wife. Praise whoso will a wedded manne’s life, Certes, I find in it but cost and care, And observances of all blisses bare. And yet, God wot, my neighebours about, And namely* of women many a rout,** *especially **company Say that I have the moste steadfast wife, And eke the meekest one, that beareth life. But I know best where wringeth* me my shoe, *pinches Ye may for me right as you like do Advise you, ye be a man of age, How that ye enter into marriage; And namely* with a young wife and a fair, * especially By him that made water, fire, earth, air, The youngest man that is in all this rout* *company Is busy enough to bringen it about To have his wife alone, truste me: Ye shall not please her fully yeares three, This is to say, to do her full pleasance. A wife asketh full many an observance. I pray you that ye be not *evil apaid.”* *displeased*

“Well,” quoth this January, “and hast thou said? Straw for thy Senec, and for thy proverbs, I counte not a pannier full of herbs Of schoole termes; wiser men than thou, As thou hast heard, assented here right now To my purpose: Placebo, what say ye?” “I say it is a cursed* man,” quoth he, *ill-natured, wicked “That letteth* matrimony, sickerly.” *hindereth And with that word they rise up suddenly, And be assented fully, that he should Be wedded when him list, and where he would.

High fantasy and curious business From day to day gan in the soul impress* *imprint themselves Of January about his marriage Many a fair shape, and many a fair visage There passed through his hearte night by night. As whoso took a mirror polish’d bright, And set it in a common market-place, Then should he see many a figure pace By his mirror; and in the same wise Gan January in his thought devise Of maidens, which that dwelte him beside: He wiste not where that he might abide.* *stay, fix his choice For if that one had beauty in her face, Another stood so in the people’s grace For her sadness* and her benignity, *sedateness That of the people greatest voice had she: And some were rich and had a badde name. But natheless, betwixt earnest and game, He at the last appointed him on one, And let all others from his hearte gon, And chose her of his own authority; For love is blind all day, and may not see. And when that he was into bed y-brought, He pourtray’d in his heart and in his thought Her freshe beauty, and her age tender, Her middle small, her armes long and slender, Her wise governance, her gentleness, Her womanly bearing, and her sadness.* *sedateness And when that he *on her was condescended,* *had selected her* He thought his choice might not be amended; For when that he himself concluded had, He thought each other manne’ s wit so bad, That impossible it were to reply Against his choice; this was his fantasy. His friendes sent he to, at his instance, And prayed them to do him that pleasance, That hastily they would unto him come; He would abridge their labour all and some: Needed no more for them to go nor ride,<7> *He was appointed where he would abide.* *he had definitively

Placebo came, and eke his friendes soon, made his choice* And *alderfirst he bade them all a boon,* *first of all he asked That none of them no arguments would make a favour of them* Against the purpose that he had y-take: Which purpose was pleasant to God, said he, And very ground of his prosperity. He said, there was a maiden in the town, Which that of beauty hadde great renown; All* were it so she were of small degree, *although Sufficed him her youth and her beauty; Which maid, he said, he would have to his wife, To lead in ease and holiness his life; And thanked God, that he might have her all, That no wight with his blisse parte* shall; *have a share And prayed them to labour in this need, And shape that he faile not to speed: For then, he said, his spirit was at ease. “Then is,” quoth he, “nothing may me displease, Save one thing pricketh in my conscience, The which I will rehearse in your presence. I have,” quoth he, “heard said, full yore* ago, *long There may no man have perfect blisses two, This is to say, on earth and eke in heaven. For though he keep him from the sinne’s seven, And eke from every branch of thilke tree,<8> Yet is there so perfect felicity, And so great *ease and lust,* in marriage, *comfort and pleasure* That ev’r I am aghast,* now in mine age *ashamed, afraid That I shall head now so merry a life, So delicate, withoute woe or strife, That I shall have mine heav’n on earthe here. For since that very heav’n is bought so dear, With tribulation and great penance, How should I then, living in such pleasance As alle wedded men do with their wives, Come to the bliss where Christ *etern on live is?* *lives eternally* This is my dread;* and ye, my brethren tway, *doubt Assoile* me this question, I you pray.” *resolve, answer

Justinus, which that hated his folly, Answer’d anon right in his japery;* *mockery, jesting way And, for he would his longe tale abridge, He woulde no authority* allege, *written texts But saide; “Sir, so there be none obstacle Other than this, God of his high miracle, And of his mercy, may so for you wirch,* *work That, ere ye have your rights of holy church, Ye may repent of wedded manne’s life, In which ye say there is no woe nor strife: And elles God forbid, *but if* he sent *unless A wedded man his grace him to repent Well often, rather than a single man. And therefore, Sir, *the beste rede I can,* *this is the best counsel Despair you not, but have in your memory, that I know* Paraventure she may be your purgatory; She may be Godde’s means, and Godde’s whip; And then your soul shall up to heaven skip Swifter than doth an arrow from a bow. I hope to God hereafter ye shall know That there is none so great felicity In marriage, nor ever more shall be, That you shall let* of your salvation; *hinder So that ye use, as skill is and reason, The lustes* of your wife attemperly,** *pleasures **moderately And that ye please her not too amorously, And that ye keep you eke from other sin. My tale is done, for my wit is but thin. Be not aghast* hereof, my brother dear, *aharmed, afraid But let us waden out of this mattere, The Wife of Bath, if ye have understand, Of marriage, which ye have now in hand, Declared hath full well in little space; Fare ye now well, God have you in his grace.”

And with this word this Justin’ and his brother Have ta’en their leave, and each of them of other. And when they saw that it must needes be, They wroughte so, by sleight and wise treaty, That she, this maiden, which that *Maius hight,* *was named May* As hastily as ever that she might, Shall wedded be unto this January. I trow it were too longe you to tarry, If I told you of every *script and band* *written bond* By which she was feoffed in his hand; Or for to reckon of her rich array But finally y-comen is the day That to the churche bothe be they went, For to receive the holy sacrament, Forth came the priest, with stole about his neck, And bade her be like Sarah and Rebecc’ In wisdom and in truth of marriage; And said his orisons, as is usage, And crouched* them, and prayed God should them bless, *crossed And made all sicker* enough with holiness. *certain

Thus be they wedded with solemnity; And at the feaste sat both he and she, With other worthy folk, upon the dais. All full of joy and bliss is the palace, And full of instruments, and of vitaille, * *victuals, food The moste dainteous* of all Itale. *delicate Before them stood such instruments of soun’, That Orpheus, nor of Thebes Amphioun, Ne made never such a melody. At every course came in loud minstrelsy, That never Joab trumped for to hear, Nor he, Theodomas, yet half so clear At Thebes, when the city was in doubt. Bacchus the wine them skinked* all about. *poured <9> And Venus laughed upon every wight (For January was become her knight, And woulde both assaye his courage In liberty, and eke in marriage), And with her firebrand in her hand about Danced before the bride and all the rout. And certainly I dare right well say this, Hymeneus, that god of wedding is, Saw never his life so merry a wedded man. Hold thou thy peace, thou poet Marcian,<10> That writest us that ilke* wedding merry *same Of her Philology and him Mercury, And of the songes that the Muses sung; Too small is both thy pen, and eke thy tongue For to describen of this marriage. When tender youth hath wedded stooping age, There is such mirth that it may not be writ; Assay it youreself, then may ye wit* *know If that I lie or no in this mattere.

Maius, that sat with so benign a cheer,* *countenance Her to behold it seemed faerie; Queen Esther never look’d with such an eye On Assuere, so meek a look had she; I may you not devise all her beauty; But thus much of her beauty tell I may, That she was hike the bright morrow of May Full filled of all beauty and pleasance. This January is ravish’d in a trance, At every time he looked in her face; But in his heart he gan her to menace, That he that night in armes would her strain Harder than ever Paris did Helene. But natheless yet had he great pity That thilke night offende her must he, And thought, “Alas, O tender creature, Now woulde God ye mighte well endure All my courage, it is so sharp and keen; I am aghast* ye shall it not sustene. *afraid But God forbid that I did all my might. Now woulde God that it were waxen night, And that the night would lasten evermo’. I would that all this people were y-go.”* *gone away And finally he did all his labour, As he best mighte, saving his honour, To haste them from the meat in subtle wise.

The time came that reason was to rise; And after that men dance, and drinke fast, And spices all about the house they cast, And full of joy and bliss is every man, All but a squire, that highte Damian, Who carv’d before the knight full many a day; He was so ravish’d on his lady May, That for the very pain he was nigh wood;* *mad Almost he swelt* and swooned where he stood, *fainted So sore had Venus hurt him with her brand, As that she bare it dancing in her hand. And to his bed he went him hastily; No more of him as at this time speak I; But there I let him weep enough and plain,* *bewail Till freshe May will rue upon his pain. O perilous fire, that in the bedstraw breedeth! O foe familiar,* that his service bedeth!** *domestic <11> **offers O servant traitor, O false homely hewe,* *servant <12> Like to the adder in bosom shy untrue, God shield us alle from your acquaintance! O January, drunken in pleasance Of marriage, see how thy Damian, Thine owen squier and thy boren* man, *born <13> Intendeth for to do thee villainy:* *dishonour, outrage God grante thee thine *homehy foe* t’ espy. *enemy in the household* For in this world is no worse pestilence Than homely foe, all day in thy presence.

Performed hath the sun his arc diurn,* *daily No longer may the body of him sojourn On the horizon, in that latitude: Night with his mantle, that is dark and rude, Gan overspread the hemisphere about: For which departed is this *lusty rout* *pleasant company* From January, with thank on every side. Home to their houses lustily they ride, Where as they do their thinges as them lest, And when they see their time they go to rest. Soon after that this hasty* January *eager Will go to bed, he will no longer tarry. He dranke hippocras, clarre, and vernage <14> Of spices hot, to increase his courage; And many a lectuary* had he full fine, *potion Such as the cursed monk Dan Constantine<15> Hath written in his book *de Coitu;* *of sexual intercourse* To eat them all he would nothing eschew: And to his privy friendes thus said he: “For Godde’s love, as soon as it may be, Let *voiden all* this house in courteous wise.” *everyone leave* And they have done right as he will devise. Men drinken, and the travers* draw anon; *curtains The bride is brought to bed as still as stone; And when the bed was with the priest y-bless’d, Out of the chamber every wight him dress’d, And January hath fast in arms y-take His freshe May, his paradise, his make.* *mate He lulled her, he kissed her full oft; With thicke bristles of his beard unsoft, Like to the skin of houndfish,* sharp as brere** *dogfish **briar (For he was shav’n all new in his mannere), He rubbed her upon her tender face, And saide thus; “Alas! I must trespace To you, my spouse, and you greatly offend, Ere time come that I will down descend. But natheless consider this,” quoth he, “There is no workman, whatsoe’er he be, That may both worke well and hastily: This will be done at leisure perfectly. It is *no force* how longe that we play; *no matter* In true wedlock coupled be we tway; And blessed be the yoke that we be in, For in our actes may there be no sin. A man may do no sinne with his wife, Nor hurt himselfe with his owen knife; For we have leave to play us by the law.”

Thus labour’d he, till that the day gan daw, And then he took a sop in fine clarre, And upright in his bedde then sat he. And after that he sang full loud and clear, And kiss’d his wife, and made wanton cheer. He was all coltish, full of ragerie * *wantonness And full of jargon as a flecked pie.<16> The slacke skin about his necke shaked, While that he sang, so chanted he and craked.* *quavered But God wot what that May thought in her heart, When she him saw up sitting in his shirt In his night-cap, and with his necke lean: She praised not his playing worth a bean. Then said he thus; “My reste will I take Now day is come, I may no longer wake; And down he laid his head and slept till prime. And afterward, when that he saw his time, Up rose January, but freshe May Helde her chamber till the fourthe day, As usage is of wives for the best. For every labour some time must have rest, Or elles longe may he not endure; This is to say, no life of creature, Be it of fish, or bird, or beast, or man.

Now will I speak of woeful Damian, That languisheth for love, as ye shall hear; Therefore I speak to him in this manneare. I say. “O silly Damian, alas! Answer to this demand, as in this case, How shalt thou to thy lady, freshe May, Telle thy woe? She will alway say nay; Eke if thou speak, she will thy woe bewray; * *betray God be thine help, I can no better say. This sicke Damian in Venus’ fire So burned that he died for desire; For which he put his life *in aventure,* *at risk* No longer might he in this wise endure; But privily a penner* gan he borrow, *writing-case And in a letter wrote he all his sorrow, In manner of a complaint or a lay, Unto his faire freshe lady May. And in a purse of silk, hung on his shirt, He hath it put, and laid it at his heart.

The moone, that at noon was thilke* day *that That January had wedded freshe May, In ten of Taure, was into Cancer glided;<17> So long had Maius in her chamber abided, As custom is unto these nobles all. A bride shall not eaten in the ball Till dayes four, or three days at the least, Y-passed be; then let her go to feast. The fourthe day complete from noon to noon, When that the highe masse was y-done, In halle sat this January, and May, As fresh as is the brighte summer’s day. And so befell, how that this goode man Remember’d him upon this Damian. And saide; “Saint Mary, how may this be, That Damian attendeth not to me? Is he aye sick? or how may this betide?” His squiers, which that stoode there beside, Excused him, because of his sickness, Which letted* him to do his business: *hindered None other cause mighte make him tarry. “That me forthinketh,”* quoth this January *grieves, causes “He is a gentle squier, by my truth; uneasiness If that he died, it were great harm and ruth. He is as wise, as discreet, and secre’,* *secret, trusty As any man I know of his degree, And thereto manly and eke serviceble, And for to be a thrifty man right able. But after meat, as soon as ever I may I will myself visit him, and eke May, To do him all the comfort that I can.” And for that word him blessed every man, That of his bounty and his gentleness He woulde so comforten in sickness His squier, for it was a gentle deed.

“Dame,” quoth this January, “take good heed, At after meat, ye with your women all (When that ye be in chamb’r out of this hall), That all ye go to see this Damian: Do him disport, he is a gentle man; And telle him that I will him visite, *Have I nothing but rested me a lite:* *when only I have rested And speed you faste, for I will abide me a little* Till that ye sleepe faste by my side.” And with that word he gan unto him call A squier, that was marshal of his hall, And told him certain thinges that he wo’ld. This freshe May hath straight her way y-hold, With all her women, unto Damian. Down by his beddes side sat she than,* *then Comforting him as goodly as she may. This Damian, when that his time he say,* *saw In secret wise his purse, and eke his bill, In which that he y-written had his will, Hath put into her hand withoute more, Save that he sighed wondrous deep and sore, And softely to her right thus said he: “Mercy, and that ye not discover me: For I am dead if that this thing be kid.”* *discovered <18> The purse hath she in her bosom hid, And went her way; ye get no more of me; But unto January come is she, That on his bedde’s side sat full soft. He took her, and he kissed her full oft, And laid him down to sleep, and that anon. She feigned her as that she muste gon There as ye know that every wight must need; And when she of this bill had taken heed, She rent it all to cloutes* at the last, *fragments And in the privy softely it cast. Who studieth* now but faire freshe May? *is thoughtful Adown by olde January she lay, That slepte, till the cough had him awaked: Anon he pray’d her strippe her all naked, He would of her, he said, have some pleasance; And said her clothes did him incumbrance. And she obey’d him, be her *lefe or loth.* *willing or unwilling* But, lest that precious* folk be with me wroth, *over-nice <19> How that he wrought I dare not to you tell, Or whether she thought it paradise or hell; But there I let them worken in their wise Till evensong ring, and they must arise.

Were it by destiny, or aventure,* * chance Were it by influence, or by nature, Or constellation, that in such estate The heaven stood at that time fortunate As for to put a bill of Venus’ works (For alle thing hath time, as say these clerks), To any woman for to get her love, I cannot say; but greate God above, That knoweth that none act is causeless, *He deem* of all, for I will hold my peace. *let him judge* But sooth is this, how that this freshe May Hath taken such impression that day Of pity on this sicke Damian, That from her hearte she not drive can The remembrance for *to do him ease.* *to satisfy “Certain,” thought she, “whom that this thing displease his desire* I recke not, for here I him assure, To love him best of any creature, Though he no more haddee than his shirt.” Lo, pity runneth soon in gentle heart. Here may ye see, how excellent franchise* *generosity In women is when they them *narrow advise.* *closely consider* Some tyrant is, — as there be many a one, — That hath a heart as hard as any stone, Which would have let him sterven* in the place *die Well rather than have granted him her grace; And then rejoicen in her cruel pride. And reckon not to be a homicide. This gentle May, full filled of pity, Right of her hand a letter maked she, In which she granted him her very grace; There lacked nought, but only day and place, Where that she might unto his lust suffice: For it shall be right as he will devise. And when she saw her time upon a day To visit this Damian went this May, And subtilly this letter down she thrust Under his pillow, read it if him lust.* *pleased She took him by the hand, and hard him twist So secretly, that no wight of it wist, And bade him be all whole; and forth she went To January, when he for her sent. Up rose Damian the nexte morrow, All passed was his sickness and his sorrow. He combed him, he proined <20> him and picked, He did all that unto his lady liked; And eke to January he went as low As ever did a dogge for the bow.<21> He is so pleasant unto every man (For craft is all, whoso that do it can), Every wight is fain to speak him good; And fully in his lady’s grace he stood. Thus leave I Damian about his need, And in my tale forth I will proceed.

Some clerke* holde that felicity *writers, scholars Stands in delight; and therefore certain he, This noble January, with all his might In honest wise as longeth* to a knight, *belongeth Shope* him to live full deliciously: *prepared, arranged His housing, his array, as honestly* *honourably, suitably To his degree was maked as a king’s. Amonges other of his honest things He had a garden walled all with stone; So fair a garden wot I nowhere none. For out of doubt I verily suppose That he that wrote the Romance of the Rose <22> Could not of it the beauty well devise;* *describe Nor Priapus <23> mighte not well suffice, Though he be god of gardens, for to tell The beauty of the garden, and the well* *fountain That stood under a laurel always green. Full often time he, Pluto, and his queen Proserpina, and all their faerie, Disported them and made melody About that well, and danced, as men told. This noble knight, this January old Such dainty* had in it to walk and play, *pleasure That he would suffer no wight to bear the key, Save he himself, for of the small wicket He bare always of silver a cliket,* *key With which, when that him list, he it unshet.* *opened And when that he would pay his wife’s debt, In summer season, thither would he go, And May his wife, and no wight but they two; And thinges which that were not done in bed, He in the garden them perform’d and sped. And in this wise many a merry day Lived this January and fresh May, But worldly joy may not always endure To January, nor to no creatucere.

O sudden hap! O thou fortune unstable! Like to the scorpion so deceivable,* *deceitful That fhatt’rest with thy head when thou wilt sting; Thy tail is death, through thine envenoming. O brittle joy! O sweete poison quaint!* *strange O monster, that so subtilly canst paint Thy giftes, under hue of steadfastness, That thou deceivest bothe *more and less!* *great and small* Why hast thou January thus deceiv’d, That haddest him for thy full friend receiv’d? And now thou hast bereft him both his eyen, For sorrow of which desireth he to dien. Alas! this noble January free, Amid his lust* and his prosperity *pleasure Is waxen blind, and that all suddenly. He weeped and he wailed piteously; And therewithal the fire of jealousy (Lest that his wife should fall in some folly) So burnt his hearte, that he woulde fain, That some man bothe him and her had slain; For neither after his death, nor in his life, Ne would he that she were no love nor wife, But ever live as widow in clothes black, Sole as the turtle that hath lost her make.* *mate But at the last, after a month or tway, His sorrow gan assuage, soothe to say. For, when he wist it might none other be, He patiently took his adversity: Save out of doubte he may not foregon That he was jealous evermore-in-one:* *continually Which jealousy was so outrageous, That neither in hall, nor in none other house, Nor in none other place never the mo’ He woulde suffer her to ride or go, *But if* that he had hand on her alway. *unless For which full often wepte freshe May, That loved Damian so burningly That she must either dien suddenly, Or elles she must have him as her lest:* *pleased She waited* when her hearte woulde brest.** *expected **burst Upon that other side Damian Becomen is the sorrowfullest man That ever was; for neither night nor day He mighte speak a word to freshe May, As to his purpose, of no such mattere, *But if* that January must it hear, *unless* That had a hand upon her evermo’. But natheless, by writing to and fro, And privy signes, wist he what she meant, And she knew eke the fine* of his intent. *end, aim

O January, what might it thee avail, Though thou might see as far as shippes sail? For as good is it blind deceiv’d to be, As be deceived when a man may see. Lo, Argus, which that had a hundred eyen, <24> For all that ever he could pore or pryen, Yet was he blent;* and, God wot, so be mo’, *deceived That *weene wisly* that it be not so: *think confidently* Pass over is an ease, I say no more. This freshe May, of which I spake yore,* *previously In warm wax hath *imprinted the cliket* *taken an impression That January bare of the small wicket of the key* By which into his garden oft he went; And Damian, that knew all her intent, The cliket counterfeited privily; There is no more to say, but hastily Some wonder by this cliket shall betide, Which ye shall hearen, if ye will abide.

O noble Ovid, sooth say’st thou, God wot, What sleight is it, if love be long and hot, That he’ll not find it out in some mannere? By Pyramus and Thisbe may men lear;* *learn Though they were kept full long and strait o’er all, They be accorded,* rowning** through a wall, *agreed **whispering Where no wight could have found out such a sleight. But now to purpose; ere that dayes eight Were passed of the month of July, fill* *it befell That January caught so great a will, Through egging* of his wife, him for to play *inciting In his garden, and no wight but they tway, That in a morning to this May said he: <25> “Rise up, my wife, my love, my lady free; The turtle’s voice is heard, mine owen sweet; The winter is gone, with all his raines weet.* *wet Come forth now with thine *eyen columbine* *eyes like the doves* Well fairer be thy breasts than any wine. The garden is enclosed all about; Come forth, my white spouse; for, out of doubt, Thou hast me wounded in mine heart, O wife: No spot in thee was e’er in all thy life. Come forth, and let us taken our disport; I choose thee for my wife and my comfort.” Such olde lewed* wordes used he. *foolish, ignorant On Damian a signe made she, That he should go before with his cliket. This Damian then hath opened the wicket, And in he start, and that in such mannere That no wight might him either see or hear; And still he sat under a bush. Anon This January, as blind as is a stone, With Maius in his hand, and no wight mo’, Into this freshe garden is y-go, And clapped to the wicket suddenly. “Now, wife,” quoth he, “here is but thou and I; Thou art the creature that I beste love: For, by that Lord that sits in heav’n above, Lever* I had to dien on a knife, *rather Than thee offende, deare true wife. For Godde’s sake, think how I thee chees,* *chose Not for no covetise* doubteless, * covetousness But only for the love I had to thee. And though that I be old, and may not see, Be to me true, and I will tell you why. Certes three thinges shall ye win thereby: First, love of Christ, and to yourself honour, And all mine heritage, town and tow’r. I give it you, make charters as you lest; This shall be done to-morrow ere sun rest, So wisly* God my soule bring to bliss! *surely I pray you, on this covenant me kiss. And though that I be jealous, wite* me not; *blame Ye be so deep imprinted in my thought, That when that I consider your beauty, And therewithal *th’unlikely eld* of me, *dissimilar age* I may not, certes, though I shoulde die, Forbear to be out of your company, For very love; this is withoute doubt: Now kiss me, wife, and let us roam about.”

This freshe May, when she these wordes heard, Benignely to January answer’d; But first and forward she began to weep: “I have,” quoth she, “a soule for to keep As well as ye, and also mine honour, And of my wifehood thilke* tender flow’r *that same Which that I have assured in your hond, When that the priest to you my body bond: Wherefore I will answer in this mannere, With leave of you mine owen lord so dear. I pray to God, that never dawn the day That I *no sterve,* as foul as woman may, *do not die* If e’er I do unto my kin that shame, Or elles I impaire so my name, That I bee false; and if I do that lack, Do strippe me, and put me in a sack, And in the nexte river do me drench:* *drown I am a gentle woman, and no wench. Why speak ye thus? but men be e’er untrue, And women have reproof of you aye new. Ye know none other dalliance, I believe, But speak to us of untrust and repreve.”* *reproof

And with that word she saw where Damian Sat in the bush, and coughe she began; And with her finger signe made she, That Damian should climb upon a tree That charged was with fruit; and up he went: For verily he knew all her intent, And every signe that she coulde make, Better than January her own make.* *mate For in a letter she had told him all Of this matter, how that he worke shall. And thus I leave him sitting in the perry,* *pear-tree And January and May roaming full merry.

Bright was the day, and blue the firmament; Phoebus of gold his streames down had sent To gladden every flow’r with his warmness; He was that time in Geminis, I guess, But little from his declination Of Cancer, Jove’s exaltation. And so befell, in that bright morning-tide, That in the garden, on the farther side, Pluto, that is the king of Faerie, And many a lady in his company Following his wife, the queen Proserpina, — Which that he ravished out of Ethna,<26> While that she gather’d flowers in the mead (In Claudian ye may the story read, How in his grisly chariot he her fet*), — *fetched This king of Faerie adown him set Upon a bank of turfes fresh and green, And right anon thus said he to his queen. “My wife,” quoth he, “there may no wight say nay, — Experience so proves it every day, — The treason which that woman doth to man. Ten hundred thousand stories tell I can Notable of your untruth and brittleness * *inconstancy O Solomon, richest of all richess, Full fill’d of sapience and worldly glory, Full worthy be thy wordes of memory To every wight that wit and reason can. * *knows Thus praised he yet the bounte* of man: *goodness ‘Among a thousand men yet found I one, But of all women found I never none.’ <27> Thus said this king, that knew your wickedness; And Jesus, Filius Sirach, <28> as I guess, He spake of you but seldom reverence. A wilde fire and corrupt pestilence So fall upon your bodies yet to-night! Ne see ye not this honourable knight? Because, alas! that he is blind and old, His owen man shall make him cuckold. Lo, where he sits, the lechour, in the tree. Now will I granten, of my majesty, Unto this olde blinde worthy knight, That he shall have again his eyen sight, When that his wife will do him villainy; Then shall be knowen all her harlotry, Both in reproof of her and other mo’.” “Yea, Sir,” quoth Proserpine,” and will ye so? Now by my mother Ceres’ soul I swear That I shall give her suffisant answer, And alle women after, for her sake; That though they be in any guilt y-take, With face bold they shall themselves excuse, And bear them down that woulde them accuse. For lack of answer, none of them shall dien.

All* had ye seen a thing with both your eyen, *although Yet shall *we visage it* so hardily, *confront it* And weep, and swear, and chide subtilly, That ye shall be as lewed* as be geese. *ignorant, confounded What recketh me of your authorities? I wot well that this Jew, this Solomon, Found of us women fooles many one: But though that he founde no good woman, Yet there hath found many another man Women full good, and true, and virtuous; Witness on them that dwelt in Christes house; With martyrdom they proved their constance. The Roman gestes <29> make remembrance Of many a very true wife also. But, Sire, be not wroth, albeit so, Though that he said he found no good woman, I pray you take the sentence* of the man: *opinion, real meaning He meant thus, that in *sovereign bounte* *perfect goodness Is none but God, no, neither *he nor she.* *man nor woman* Hey, for the very God that is but one, Why make ye so much of Solomon? What though he made a temple, Godde’s house? What though he were rich and glorious? So made he eke a temple of false goddes; How might he do a thing that more forbode* is? *forbidden Pardie, as fair as ye his name emplaster,* *plaster over, “whitewash” He was a lechour, and an idolaster,* *idohater And in his eld he very* God forsook. *the true And if that God had not (as saith the book) Spared him for his father’s sake, he should Have lost his regne* rather** than he would. *kingdom **sooner I *sette not of* all the villainy *value not* That he of women wrote, a butterfly. I am a woman, needes must I speak, Or elles swell until mine hearte break. For since he said that we be jangleresses,* *chatterers As ever may I brooke* whole my tresses, *preserve I shall not spare for no courtesy To speak him harm, that said us villainy.” “Dame,” quoth this Pluto, “be no longer wroth; I give it up: but, since I swore mine oath That I would grant to him his sight again, My word shall stand, that warn I you certain: I am a king; it sits* me not to lie.” *becomes, befits “And I,” quoth she, “am queen of Faerie. Her answer she shall have, I undertake, Let us no more wordes of it make. Forsooth, I will no longer you contrary.”

Now let us turn again to January, That in the garden with his faire May Singeth well merrier than the popinjay:* *parrot “You love I best, and shall, and other none.” So long about the alleys is he gone, Till he was come to *that ilke perry,* *the same pear-tree* Where as this Damian satte full merry On high, among the freshe leaves green. This freshe May, that is so bright and sheen, Gan for to sigh, and said, “Alas my side! Now, Sir,” quoth she, “for aught that may betide, I must have of the peares that I see, Or I must die, so sore longeth me To eaten of the smalle peares green; Help, for her love that is of heaven queen! I tell you well, a woman in my plight <30> May have to fruit so great an appetite, That she may dien, but* she of it have. “ *unless “Alas!” quoth he, “that I had here a knave* *servant That coulde climb; alas! alas!” quoth he, “For I am blind.” “Yea, Sir, *no force,”* quoth she; *no matter* “But would ye vouchesafe, for Godde’s sake, The perry in your armes for to take (For well I wot that ye mistruste me), Then would I climbe well enough,” quoth she, “So I my foot might set upon your back.” “Certes,” said he, “therein shall be no lack, Might I you helpe with mine hearte’s blood.” He stooped down, and on his back she stood, And caught her by a twist,* and up she go’th. *twig, bough (Ladies, I pray you that ye be not wroth, I cannot glose,* I am a rude man): *mince matters And suddenly anon this Damian Gan pullen up the smock, and in he throng.* *rushed <31> And when that Pluto saw this greate wrong, To January he gave again his sight, And made him see as well as ever he might. And when he thus had caught his sight again, Was never man of anything so fain: But on his wife his thought was evermo’. Up to the tree he cast his eyen two, And saw how Damian his wife had dress’d, In such mannere, it may not be express’d, *But if* I woulde speak uncourteously. *unless* And up he gave a roaring and a cry, As doth the mother when the child shall die; “Out! help! alas! harow!” he gan to cry; “O stronge, lady, stowre! <32> what doest thou?”

And she answered: “Sir, what aileth you? Have patience and reason in your mind, I have you help’d on both your eyen blind. On peril of my soul, I shall not lien, As me was taught to helpe with your eyen, Was nothing better for to make you see, Than struggle with a man upon a tree: God wot, I did it in full good intent.” “Struggle!” quoth he, “yea, algate* in it went. *whatever way God give you both one shame’s death to dien! He swived* thee; I saw it with mine eyen; *enjoyed carnally And elles be I hanged by the halse.”* *neck “Then is,” quoth she, “my medicine all false; For certainly, if that ye mighte see, Ye would not say these wordes unto me. Ye have some glimpsing,* and no perfect sight.” *glimmering “I see,” quoth he, “as well as ever I might, (Thanked be God!) with both mine eyen two, And by my faith me thought he did thee so.” “Ye maze,* ye maze, goode Sir,” quoth she; *rave, are confused “This thank have I for I have made you see: Alas!” quoth she, “that e’er I was so kind.” “Now, Dame,” quoth he, “let all pass out of mind; Come down, my lefe,* and if I have missaid, *love God help me so, as I am *evil apaid.* *dissatisfied* But, by my father’s soul, I ween’d have seen How that this Damian had by thee lain, And that thy smock had lain upon his breast.” “Yea, Sir,” quoth she, “ye may *ween as ye lest:* *think as you But, Sir, a man that wakes out of his sleep, please* He may not suddenly well take keep* *notice Upon a thing, nor see it perfectly, Till that he be adawed* verily. *awakened Right so a man, that long hath blind y-be, He may not suddenly so well y-see, First when his sight is newe come again, As he that hath a day or two y-seen. Till that your sight establish’d be a while, There may full many a sighte you beguile. Beware, I pray you, for, by heaven’s king, Full many a man weeneth to see a thing, And it is all another than it seemeth; He which that misconceiveth oft misdeemeth.” And with that word she leapt down from the tree. This January, who is glad but he? He kissed her, and clipped* her full oft, *embraced And on her womb he stroked her full soft; And to his palace home he hath her lad.* *led Now, goode men, I pray you to be glad. Thus endeth here my tale of January, God bless us, and his mother, Sainte Mary.

Notes to The Merchant’s Tale

1. If, as is probable, this Tale was translated from the French, the original is not now extant. Tyrwhitt remarks that the scene “is laid in Italy, but none of the names, except Damian and Justin, seem to be Italian, but rather made at pleasure; so that I doubt whether the story be really of Italian growth. The adventure of the pear-tree I find in a small collection of Latin fables, written by one Adoiphus, in elegiac verses of his fashion, in the year 1315. . . . Whatever was the real origin of the Tale, the machinery of the fairies, which Chaucer has used so happily, was probably added by himself; and, indeed, I cannot help thinking that his Pluto and Proserpina were the true progenitors of Oberon and Titania; or rather, that they themselves have, once at least, deigned to revisit our poetical system under the latter names.”

2. Seculeres: of the laity; but perhaps, since the word is of two- fold meaning, Chaucer intends a hit at the secular clergy, who, unlike the regular orders, did not live separate from the world, but shared in all its interests and pleasures — all the more easily and freely, that they had not the civil restraint of marriage.

3. This and the next eight lines are taken from the “Liber aureolus Theophrasti de nuptiis,” (“Theophrastus’s Golden Book of Marriage”) quoted by Hieronymus, “Contra Jovinianum,” (“Against Jovinian”) and thence again by John of Salisbury.

4. Mebles: movables, furniture, &c.; French, “meubles.”

5. “Wade’s boat” was called Guingelot; and in it, according to the old romance, the owner underwent a long series of wild adventures, and performed many strange exploits. The romance is lost, and therefore the exact force of the phrase in the text is uncertain; but Mr Wright seems to be warranted in supposing that Wade’s adventures were cited as examples of craft and cunning — that the hero, in fact, was a kind of Northern Ulysses, It is possible that to the same source we may trace the proverbial phrase, found in Chaucer’s “Remedy of Love,” to “bear Wattis pack” signifying to be duped or beguiled.

6. Stopen: advanced; past participle of “step.” Elsewhere “y-stept in age” is used by Chaucer.

7. They did not need to go in quest of a wife for him, as they had promised.

8. Thilke tree: that tree of original sin, of which the special sins are the branches.

9. Skinked: poured out; from Anglo-Saxon, “scencan.”

10. Marcianus Capella, who wrote a kind of philosophical romance, “De Nuptiis Mercurii et Philologiae” (Of the Marriage of Mercury and Philology) . “Her” and “him,” two lines after, like “he” applied to Theodomas, are prefixed to the proper names for emphasis, according to the Anglo- Saxon usage.

11. Familiar: domestic; belonging to the “familia,” or household.

12. Hewe: domestic servant; from Anglo-Saxon, “hiwa.” Tyrwhitt reads “false of holy hue;” but Mr Wright has properly restored the reading adopted in the text.

13. Boren man: born; owing to January faith and loyalty because born in his household.

14. Hippocras: spiced wine. Clarre: also a kind of spiced wine. Vernage: a wine believed to have come from Crete, although its name — Italian, “Vernaccia” — seems to be derived from Verona.

15. Dan Constantine: a medical author who wrote about 1080; his works were printed at Basle in 1536.

16. Full of jargon as a flecked pie: he chattered like a magpie

17. Nearly all the manuscripts read “in two of Taure;” but Tyrwhitt has shown that, setting out from the second degree of Taurus, the moon, which in the four complete days that Maius spent in her chamber could not have advanced more than fifty- three degrees, would only have been at the twenty-fifth degree of Gemini — whereas, by reading “ten,” she is brought to the third degree of Cancer.

18. Kid; or “kidde,” past participle of “kythe” or “kithe,” to show or discover.

19. Precious: precise, over-nice; French, “precieux,” affected.

20. Proined: or “pruned;” carefully trimmed and dressed himself. The word is used in falconry of a hawk when she picks and trims her feathers.

21. A dogge for the bow: a dog attending a hunter with the bow.

22 The Romance of the Rose: a very popular mediaeval romance, the English version of which is partly by Chaucer. It opens with a description of a beautiful garden.

23. Priapus: Son of Bacchus and Venus: he was regarded as the promoter of fertility in all agricultural life, vegetable and animal; while not only gardens, but fields, flocks, bees — and even fisheries — were supposed to be under his protection.

24. Argus was employed by Juno to watch Io with his hundred eyes but he was sent to sleep by the flute of Mercury, who then cut off his head.

25. “My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone: The flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of the birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.” — Song of Solomon, ii. 10-12.

26. “That fair field, Of Enna, where Proserpine, gath’ring flowers, Herself a fairer flow’r, by gloomy Dis Was gather’d.” — Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 268

27. “Behold, this have I found, saith the preacher, counting one by one, to find out the account: Which yet my soul seeketh, but I find not: one man amongst a thousand have I found, but a woman among all those I have not found. Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright.” Ecclesiastes vii. 27-29.

28. Jesus, the son of Sirach, to whom is ascribed one of the books of the Apochrypha — that called the “Wisdom of Jesus the Son of Sirach, or Ecclesiasticus;” in which, especially in the ninth and twenty-fifth chapters, severe cautions are given against women.

29. Roman gestes: histories; such as those of Lucretia, Porcia, &c.

30. May means January to believe that she is pregnant, and that she has a craving for unripe pears.

31. At this point, and again some twenty lines below, several verses of a very coarse character had been inserted in later manuscripts; but they are evidently spurious, and are omitted in the best editions.

32. “Store” is the general reading here, but its meaning is not obvious. “Stowre” is found in several manuscripts; it signifies “struggle” or “resist;” and both for its own appropriateness, and for the force which it gives the word “stronge,” the reading in the text seems the better.

THE SQUIRE’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.