Part 26

When they were come unto the court, this knight Said, he had held his day, as he had hight,* *promised And ready was his answer, as he said. Full many a noble wife, and many a maid, And many a widow, for that they be wise, — The queen herself sitting as a justice, — Assembled be, his answer for to hear, And afterward this knight was bid appear. To every wight commanded was silence, And that the knight should tell in audience, What thing that worldly women love the best. This knight he stood not still, as doth a beast, But to this question anon answer’d With manly voice, that all the court it heard, “My liege lady, generally,” quoth he, “Women desire to have the sovereignty As well over their husband as their love And for to be in mast’ry him above. This is your most desire, though ye me kill, Do as you list, I am here at your will.” In all the court there was no wife nor maid Nor widow, that contraried what he said, But said, he worthy was to have his life. And with that word up start that olde wife Which that the knight saw sitting on the green.

“Mercy,” quoth she, “my sovereign lady queen, Ere that your court departe, do me right. I taughte this answer unto this knight, For which he plighted me his trothe there, The firste thing I would of him requere, He would it do, if it lay in his might. Before this court then pray I thee, Sir Knight,” Quoth she, “that thou me take unto thy wife, For well thou know’st that I have kept* thy life. *preserved If I say false, say nay, upon thy fay.”* *faith This knight answer’d, “Alas, and well-away! I know right well that such was my behest.* *promise For Godde’s love choose a new request Take all my good, and let my body go.” “Nay, then,” quoth she, “I shrew* us bothe two, *curse For though that I be old, and foul, and poor, I n’ould* for all the metal nor the ore, *would not That under earth is grave,* or lies above *buried But if thy wife I were and eke thy love.” “My love?” quoth he, “nay, my damnation, Alas! that any of my nation Should ever so foul disparaged be. But all for nought; the end is this, that he Constrained was, that needs he muste wed, And take this olde wife, and go to bed.

Now woulde some men say paraventure That for my negligence I do no cure* *take no pains To tell you all the joy and all th’ array That at the feast was made that ilke* day. *same To which thing shortly answeren I shall: I say there was no joy nor feast at all, There was but heaviness and muche sorrow: For privily he wed her on the morrow; And all day after hid him as an owl, So woe was him, his wife look’d so foul Great was the woe the knight had in his thought When he was with his wife to bed y-brought; He wallow’d, and he turned to and fro. This olde wife lay smiling evermo’, And said, “Dear husband, benedicite, Fares every knight thus with his wife as ye? Is this the law of king Arthoures house? Is every knight of his thus dangerous?* *fastidious, niggardly I am your owen love, and eke your wife I am she, which that saved hath your life And certes yet did I you ne’er unright. Why fare ye thus with me this firste night? Ye fare like a man had lost his wit. What is my guilt? for God’s love tell me it, And it shall be amended, if I may.” “Amended!” quoth this knight; “alas, nay, nay, It will not be amended, never mo’; Thou art so loathly, and so old also, And thereto* comest of so low a kind, *in addition That little wonder though I wallow and wind;* *writhe, turn about So woulde God, mine hearte woulde brest!”* *burst “Is this,” quoth she, “the cause of your unrest?” “Yea, certainly,” quoth he; “no wonder is.” “Now, Sir,” quoth she, “I could amend all this, If that me list, ere it were dayes three, *So well ye mighte bear you unto me.* *if you could conduct But, for ye speaken of such gentleness yourself well As is descended out of old richess, towards me* That therefore shalle ye be gentlemen; Such arrogancy is *not worth a hen.* *worth nothing Look who that is most virtuous alway, *Prive and apert,* and most intendeth aye *in private and public* To do the gentle deedes that he can; And take him for the greatest gentleman. Christ will,* we claim of him our gentleness, *wills, requires Not of our elders* for their old richess. *ancestors For though they gave us all their heritage, For which we claim to be of high parage,* *birth, descent Yet may they not bequeathe, for no thing, To none of us, their virtuous living That made them gentlemen called to be, And bade us follow them in such degree. Well can the wise poet of Florence, That highte Dante, speak of this sentence:* *sentiment Lo, in such manner* rhyme is Dante’s tale. *kind of ‘Full seld’* upriseth by his branches smale *seldom Prowess of man, for God of his goodness Wills that we claim of him our gentleness;’ <12> For of our elders may we nothing claim But temp’ral things that man may hurt and maim. Eke every wight knows this as well as I, If gentleness were planted naturally Unto a certain lineage down the line, Prive and apert, then would they never fine* *cease To do of gentleness the fair office Then might they do no villainy nor vice. Take fire, and bear it to the darkest house Betwixt this and the mount of Caucasus, And let men shut the doores, and go thenne,* *thence Yet will the fire as fair and lighte brenne* *burn As twenty thousand men might it behold; *Its office natural aye will it hold,* *it will perform its On peril of my life, till that it die. natural duty* Here may ye see well how that gentery* *gentility, nobility Is not annexed to possession, Since folk do not their operation Alway, as doth the fire, lo, *in its kind* *from its very nature* For, God it wot, men may full often find A lorde’s son do shame and villainy. And he that will have price* of his gent’ry, *esteem, honour For* he was boren of a gentle house, *because And had his elders noble and virtuous, And will himselfe do no gentle deedes, Nor follow his gentle ancestry, that dead is, He is not gentle, be he duke or earl; For villain sinful deedes make a churl. For gentleness is but the renomee* *renown Of thine ancestors, for their high bounte,* *goodness, worth Which is a strange thing to thy person: Thy gentleness cometh from God alone. Then comes our very* gentleness of grace; *true It was no thing bequeath’d us with our place. Think how noble, as saith Valerius, Was thilke* Tullius Hostilius, *that That out of povert’ rose to high Read in Senec, and read eke in Boece, There shall ye see express, that it no drede* is, *doubt That he is gentle that doth gentle deedes. And therefore, leve* husband, I conclude, *dear Albeit that mine ancestors were rude, Yet may the highe God, — and so hope I, — Grant me His grace to live virtuously: Then am I gentle when that I begin To live virtuously, and waive* sin. *forsake

“And whereas ye of povert’ me repreve,* *reproach The highe God, on whom that we believe, In wilful povert’ chose to lead his life: And certes, every man, maiden, or wife May understand that Jesus, heaven’s king, Ne would not choose a virtuous living. *Glad povert’* is an honest thing, certain; *poverty cheerfully This will Senec and other clerkes sayn endured* Whoso that *holds him paid of* his povert’, *is satisfied with* I hold him rich though he hath not a shirt. He that coveteth is a poore wight For he would have what is not in his might But he that nought hath, nor coveteth to have, Is rich, although ye hold him but a knave.* *slave, abject wretch *Very povert’ is sinne,* properly. *the only true poverty is sin* Juvenal saith of povert’ merrily: The poore man, when he goes by the way Before the thieves he may sing and play <13> Povert’ is hateful good,<14> and, as I guess, A full great *bringer out of business;* *deliver from trouble* A great amender eke of sapience To him that taketh it in patience. Povert’ is this, although it seem elenge* *strange <15> Possession that no wight will challenge Povert’ full often, when a man is low, Makes him his God and eke himself to know Povert’ a spectacle* is, as thinketh me *a pair of spectacles Through which he may his very* friendes see. *true And, therefore, Sir, since that I you not grieve, Of my povert’ no more me repreve.* *reproach “Now, Sir, of elde* ye repreve me: *age And certes, Sir, though none authority* *text, dictum Were in no book, ye gentles of honour Say, that men should an olde wight honour, And call him father, for your gentleness; And authors shall I finden, as I guess. Now there ye say that I am foul and old, Then dread ye not to be a cokewold.* *cuckold For filth, and elde, all so may I the,* *thrive Be greate wardens upon chastity. But natheless, since I know your delight, I shall fulfil your wordly appetite. Choose now,” quoth she, “one of these thinges tway, To have me foul and old till that I dey,* *die And be to you a true humble wife, And never you displease in all my life: Or elles will ye have me young and fair, And take your aventure of the repair* *resort That shall be to your house because of me, — Or in some other place, it may well be? Now choose yourselfe whether that you liketh.

This knight adviseth* him and sore he siketh,** *considered **sighed But at the last he said in this mannere; “My lady and my love, and wife so dear, I put me in your wise governance, Choose for yourself which may be most pleasance And most honour to you and me also; I *do no force* the whether of the two: *care not For as you liketh, it sufficeth me.” “Then have I got the mastery,” quoth she, “Since I may choose and govern as me lest.”* *pleases “Yea, certes wife,” quoth he, “I hold it best.” “Kiss me,” quoth she, “we are no longer wroth,* *at variance For by my troth I will be to you both; This is to say, yea, bothe fair and good. I pray to God that I may *sterve wood,* *die mad* But* I to you be all so good and true, *unless As ever was wife since the world was new; And but* I be to-morrow as fair to seen, *unless As any lady, emperess or queen, That is betwixt the East and eke the West Do with my life and death right as you lest.* *please Cast up the curtain, and look how it is.”

And when the knight saw verily all this, That she so fair was, and so young thereto, For joy he hent* her in his armes two: *took His hearte bathed in a bath of bliss, A thousand times *on row* he gan her kiss: *in succession* And she obeyed him in every thing That mighte do him pleasance or liking. And thus they live unto their lives’ end In perfect joy; and Jesus Christ us send Husbandes meek and young, and fresh in bed, And grace to overlive them that we wed. And eke I pray Jesus to short their lives, That will not be governed by their wives. And old and angry niggards of dispence,* *expense God send them soon a very pestilence!

Notes to the Wife of Bath’s Tale

1. It is not clear whence Chaucer derived this tale. Tyrwhitt thinks it was taken from the story of Florent, in the first book of Gower’s “Confessio Amantis;” or perhaps from an older narrative from which Gower himself borrowed. Chaucer has condensed and otherwise improved the fable, especially by laying the scene, not in Sicily, but at the court of our own King Arthur.

2. Limitours: begging friars. See note 18 to the prologue to the Tales.

3. Thorpes: villages. Compare German, “Dorf,”; Dutch, “Dorp.”

4. Undermeles: evening-tides, afternoons; “undern” signifies the evening; and “mele,” corresponds to the German “Mal” or “Mahl,” time.

5. Incubus: an evil spirit supposed to do violence to women; a nightmare.

6. Where he had been hawking after waterfowl. Froissart says that any one engaged in this sport “alloit en riviere.”

7. Nice: foolish; French, “niais.”

8. Claw us on the gall: Scratch us on the sore place. Compare, “Let the galled jade wince.” Hamlet iii. 2.

9. Hele: hide; from Anglo-Saxon, “helan,” to hide, conceal.

10. Yern: eagerly; German, “gern.”

11. Wiss: instruct; German, “weisen,” to show or counsel.

12. Dante, “Purgatorio”, vii. 121.

13. “Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator” — “Satires,” x. 22.

14. In a fabulous conference between the Emperor Adrian and the philosopher Secundus, reported by Vincent of Beauvais, occurs the passage which Chaucer here paraphrases: — “Quid est Paupertas? Odibile bonum; sanitas mater; remotio Curarum; sapientae repertrix; negotium sine damno; possessio absque calumnia; sine sollicitudinae felicitas.” (What is Poverty? A hateful good; a mother of health; a putting away of cares; a discoverer of wisdom; business without injury; ownership without calumny; happiness without anxiety)

15. Elenge: strange; from French “eloigner,” to remove.

THE FRIAR’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.<1>

This worthy limitour, this noble Frere, He made always a manner louring cheer* *countenance Upon the Sompnour; but for honesty* *courtesy No villain word as yet to him spake he: But at the last he said unto the Wife: “Dame,” quoth he, “God give you right good life, Ye have here touched, all so may I the,* *thrive In school matter a greate difficulty. Ye have said muche thing right well, I say; But, Dame, here as we ride by the way, Us needeth not but for to speak of game, And leave authorities, in Godde’s name, To preaching, and to school eke of clergy. But if it like unto this company, I will you of a Sompnour tell a game; Pardie, ye may well knowe by the name, That of a Sompnour may no good be said; I pray that none of you be *evil paid;* *dissatisfied* A Sompnour is a runner up and down With mandements* for fornicatioun, *mandates, summonses* And is y-beat at every towne’s end.” Then spake our Host; “Ah, sir, ye should be hend* *civil, gentle And courteous, as a man of your estate; In company we will have no debate: Tell us your tale, and let the Sompnour be.” “Nay,” quoth the Sompnour, “let him say by me What so him list; when it comes to my lot, By God, I shall him quiten* every groat! *pay him off I shall him telle what a great honour It is to be a flattering limitour And his office I shall him tell y-wis”. Our Host answered, “Peace, no more of this.” And afterward he said unto the frere, “Tell forth your tale, mine owen master dear.”

Notes to the Prologue to the Friar’s tale

1. On the Tale of the Friar, and that of the Sompnour which follows, Tyrwhitt has remarked that they “are well engrafted upon that of the Wife of Bath. The ill-humour which shows itself between these two characters is quite natural, as no two professions at that time were at more constant variance. The regular clergy, and particularly the mendicant friars, affected a total exemption from all ecclesiastical jurisdiction, except that of the Pope, which made them exceedingly obnoxious to the bishops and of course to all the inferior officers of the national hierarchy.” Both tales, whatever their origin, are bitter satires on the greed and worldliness of the Romish clergy.

THE TALE.