The Canterbury Tales and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer (page 9)

27. Teuta: Queen of Illyria, who, after her husband’s death, made war on and was conquered by the Romans, B.C 228.

28. At this point, in some manuscripts, occur thefollowing two lines: —
“The same thing I say of Bilia,
Of Rhodegone and of Valeria.”

29. Bound: prepared; going. To “boun” or “bown” is a good old word, whence comes our word “bound,” in the sense of “on the way.”

30. That from his lust yet were him lever abide: He would rather do without his pleasure.

31. Such apparence: such an ocular deception, or apparition — more properly, disappearance — as the removal of the rocks.

32. The same question is stated a the end of Boccaccio’s version of the story in the “Philocopo,” where the queen determines in favour of Aviragus. The question is evidently one of those which it was the fashion to propose for debate in the mediaeval “courts of love.”

THE DOCTOR’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE. <1>

[“YEA, let that passe,” quoth our Host, “as now. Sir Doctor of Physik, I praye you,
Tell us a tale of some honest mattere.” “It shall be done, if that ye will it hear,” Said this Doctor; and his tale gan anon. “Now, good men,” quoth he, “hearken everyone.”]

Notes to the Prologue to the Doctor’s Tale

1. The authenticity of the prologue is questionable. It is found in one manuscript only; other manuscripts give other prologues, more plainly not Chaucer’s than this; and some manuscripts have merely a colophon to the effect that “Here endeth the Franklin’s Tale and beginneth the Physician’s Tale without a prologue.” The Tale itself is the well-known story of Virginia, with several departures from the text of Livy. Chaucer probably followed the “Romance of the Rose” and Gower’s “Confessio Amantis,” in both of which the story is found.

THE TALE.

There was, as telleth Titus Livius, <1> A knight, that called was Virginius,
Full filled of honour and worthiness, And strong of friendes, and of great richess. This knight one daughter hadde by his wife; No children had he more in all his life. Fair was this maid in excellent beauty
Aboven ev’ry wight that man may see: For nature had with sov’reign diligence
Y-formed her in so great excellence, As though she woulde say, “Lo, I, Nature, Thus can I form and paint a creature,
When that me list; who can me counterfeit? Pygmalion? not though he aye forge and beat, Or grave or painte: for I dare well sayn, Apelles, Zeuxis, shoulde work in vain,
Either to grave, or paint, or forge, or beat, If they presumed me to counterfeit.
For he that is the former principal, Hath made me his vicar-general
To form and painten earthly creatures Right as me list, and all thing in my cure* is, *care Under the moone, that may wane and wax.
And for my work right nothing will I ax* *ask My lord and I be full of one accord.
I made her to the worship* of my lord; So do I all mine other creatures,
What colour that they have, or what figures.” Thus seemeth me that Nature woulde say.

This maiden was of age twelve year and tway,* *two In which that Nature hadde such delight. For right as she can paint a lily white, And red a rose, right with such painture She painted had this noble creature,
Ere she was born, upon her limbes free, Where as by right such colours shoulde be: And Phoebus dyed had her tresses great,
Like to the streames* of his burned heat. *beams, rays And if that excellent was her beauty,
A thousand-fold more virtuous was she. In her there lacked no condition,
That is to praise, as by discretion. As well in ghost* as body chaste was she: *mind, spirit For which she flower’d in virginity,
With all humility and abstinence,
With alle temperance and patience,
With measure* eke of bearing and array. *moderation Discreet she was in answering alway,
Though she were wise as Pallas, dare I sayn; Her faconde* eke full womanly and plain, *speech <2> No counterfeited termes hadde she
To seeme wise; but after her degree She spake, and all her worde’s more and less Sounding in virtue and in gentleness.
Shamefast she was in maiden’s shamefastness, Constant in heart, and ever *in business* *diligent, eager* To drive her out of idle sluggardy:
Bacchus had of her mouth right no mast’ry. For wine and slothe <3> do Venus increase, As men in fire will casten oil and grease. And of her owen virtue, unconstrain’d,
She had herself full often sick y-feign’d, For that she woulde flee the company,
Where likely was to treaten of folly, As is at feasts, at revels, and at dances, That be occasions of dalliances.
Such thinges make children for to be Too soone ripe and bold, as men may see, Which is full perilous, and hath been yore;* *of old For all too soone may she learne lore
Of boldeness, when that she is a wife.

And ye mistresses,* in your olde life *governesses, duennas That lordes’ daughters have in governance, Take not of my wordes displeasance
Thinke that ye be set in governings Of lordes’ daughters only for two things; Either for ye have kept your honesty,
Or else for ye have fallen in frailty And knowe well enough the olde dance,
And have forsaken fully such meschance* *wickedness <4> For evermore; therefore, for Christe’s sake, To teach them virtue look that ye not slake.* *be slack, fail A thief of venison, that hath forlaft* *forsaken, left His lik’rousness,* and all his olde craft, *gluttony Can keep a forest best of any man;
Now keep them well, for if ye will ye can. Look well, that ye unto no vice assent,
Lest ye be damned for your wick’* intent, *wicked, evil For whoso doth, a traitor is certain;
And take keep* of that I shall you sayn; *heed Of alle treason, sov’reign pestilence
Is when a wight betrayeth innocence. Ye fathers, and ye mothers eke also,
Though ye have children, be it one or mo’, Yours is the charge of all their surveyance,* *supervision While that they be under your governance. Beware, that by example of your living,
Or by your negligence in chastising, That they not perish for I dare well say, If that they do, ye shall it dear abeye.* *pay for, suffer for Under a shepherd soft and negligent
The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to-rent. Suffice this example now as here,
For I must turn again to my mattere.

This maid, of which I tell my tale express, She kept herself, her needed no mistress; For in her living maidens mighte read,
As in a book, ev’ry good word and deed That longeth to a maiden virtuous;
She was so prudent and so bounteous. For which the fame out sprang on every side Both of her beauty and her bounte* wide: *goodness That through the land they praised her each one That loved virtue, save envy alone,
That sorry is of other manne’s weal, And glad is of his sorrow and unheal* — *misfortune The Doctor maketh this descriptioun. — <5> This maiden on a day went in the town
Toward a temple, with her mother dear, As is of younge maidens the mannere.
Now was there then a justice in that town, That governor was of that regioun:
And so befell, this judge his eyen cast Upon this maid, avising* her full fast, *observing As she came forth by where this judge stood; Anon his hearte changed and his mood,
So was he caught with beauty of this maid And to himself full privily he said,
“This maiden shall be mine *for any man.”* *despite what any Anon the fiend into his hearte ran, man may do* And taught him suddenly, that he by sleight This maiden to his purpose winne might.
For certes, by no force, nor by no meed,* *bribe, reward Him thought he was not able for to speed; For she was strong of friendes, and eke she Confirmed was in such sov’reign bounte,
That well he wist he might her never win, As for to make her with her body sin.
For which, with great deliberatioun, He sent after a clerk <6> was in the town, The which he knew for subtle and for bold. This judge unto this clerk his tale told In secret wise, and made him to assure
He shoulde tell it to no creature,
And if he did, he shoulde lose his head. And when assented was this cursed rede,* *counsel, plot Glad was the judge, and made him greate cheer, And gave him giftes precious and dear.
When shapen* was all their conspiracy *arranged From point to point, how that his lechery Performed shoulde be full subtilly,
As ye shall hear it after openly,
Home went this clerk, that highte Claudius. This false judge, that highte Appius, — (So was his name, for it is no fable,
But knowen for a storial* thing notable; *historical, authentic The sentence* of it sooth** is out of doubt); — *account **true This false judge went now fast about
To hasten his delight all that he may. And so befell, soon after on a day,
This false judge, as telleth us the story, As he was wont, sat in his consistory,
And gave his doomes* upon sundry case’; *judgments This false clerk came forth *a full great pace,* *in haste And saide; Lord, if that it be your will, As do me right upon this piteous bill,* *petition In which I plain upon Virginius.
And if that he will say it is not thus, I will it prove, and finde good witness, That sooth is what my bille will express.” The judge answer’d, “Of this, in his absence, I may not give definitive sentence.
Let do* him call, and I will gladly hear; *cause Thou shalt have alle right, and no wrong here.” Virginius came to weet* the judge’s will, *know, learn And right anon was read this cursed bill; The sentence of it was as ye shall hear
“To you, my lord, Sir Appius so clear, Sheweth your poore servant Claudius,
How that a knight called Virginius, Against the law, against all equity,
Holdeth, express against the will of me, My servant, which that is my thrall* by right, *slave Which from my house was stolen on a night, While that she was full young; I will it preve* *prove By witness, lord, so that it you *not grieve;* *be not displeasing* She is his daughter not, what so he say. Wherefore to you, my lord the judge, I pray, Yield me my thrall, if that it be your will.” Lo, this was all the sentence of the bill. Virginius gan upon the clerk behold;
But hastily, ere he his tale told,
And would have proved it, as should a knight, And eke by witnessing of many a wight,
That all was false that said his adversary, This cursed judge would no longer tarry, Nor hear a word more of Virginius,
But gave his judgement, and saide thus: “I deem* anon this clerk his servant have; *pronounce, determine Thou shalt no longer in thy house her save. Go, bring her forth, and put her in our ward The clerk shall have his thrall: thus I award.”

And when this worthy knight, Virginius, Through sentence of this justice Appius, Muste by force his deare daughter give
Unto the judge, in lechery to live, He went him home, and sat him in his hall, And let anon his deare daughter call;
And with a face dead as ashes cold
Upon her humble face he gan behold, With father’s pity sticking* through his heart, *piercing All* would he from his purpose not convert.** *although **turn aside “Daughter,” quoth he, “Virginia by name, There be two wayes, either death or shame, That thou must suffer, — alas that I was bore!* *born For never thou deservedest wherefore
To dien with a sword or with a knife, O deare daughter, ender of my life,
Whom I have foster’d up with such pleasance That thou were ne’er out of my remembrance; O daughter, which that art my laste woe, And in this life my laste joy also,
O gem of chastity, in patience
Take thou thy death, for this is my sentence: For love and not for hate thou must be dead; My piteous hand must smiten off thine head. Alas, that ever Appius thee say!* *saw Thus hath he falsely judged thee to-day.” And told her all the case, as ye before
Have heard; it needeth not to tell it more.

“O mercy, deare father,” quoth the maid. And with that word she both her armes laid About his neck, as she was wont to do,
(The teares burst out of her eyen two), And said, “O goode father, shall I die?
Is there no grace? is there no remedy?” “No, certes, deare daughter mine,” quoth he. “Then give me leisure, father mine, quoth she, “My death for to complain* a little space *bewail For, pardie, Jephthah gave his daughter grace For to complain, ere he her slew, alas! <7> And, God it wot, nothing was her trespass,* *offence But for she ran her father first to see, To welcome him with great solemnity.”
And with that word she fell a-swoon anon; And after, when her swooning was y-gone, She rose up, and unto her father said:
“Blessed be God, that I shall die a maid. Give me my death, ere that I have shame; Do with your child your will, in Godde’s name.” And with that word she prayed him full oft That with his sword he woulde smite her soft; And with that word, a-swoon again she fell. Her father, with full sorrowful heart and fell,* *stern, cruel Her head off smote, and by the top it hent,* *took And to the judge he went it to present,
As he sat yet in doom* in consistory. *judgment

And when the judge it saw, as saith the story, He bade to take him, and to hang him fast. But right anon a thousand people *in thrast* *rushed in* To save the knight, for ruth and for pity For knowen was the false iniquity.
The people anon had suspect* in this thing, *suspicion By manner of the clerke’s challenging,
That it was by th’assent of Appius; They wiste well that he was lecherous.
For which unto this Appius they gon, And cast him in a prison right anon,
Where as he slew himself: and Claudius, That servant was unto this Appius,
Was doomed for to hang upon a tree; But that Virginius, of his pity,
So prayed for him, that he was exil’d; And elles certes had he been beguil’d;* *see note <8> The remenant were hanged, more and less, That were consenting to this cursedness.* *villainy Here men may see how sin hath his merite:* *deserts Beware, for no man knows how God will smite In no degree, nor in which manner wise
The worm of conscience may agrise* frighten, horrify Of wicked life, though it so privy be,
That no man knows thereof, save God and he; For be he lewed* man or elles lear’d,** *ignorant **learned He knows not how soon he shall be afear’d; Therefore I rede* you this counsel take, *advise Forsake sin, ere sinne you forsake.

Notes to the Doctor’s Tale

1. Livy, Book iii. cap. 44, et seqq.

2. Faconde: utterance, speech; from Latin, “facundia,” eloquence.

3. Slothe: other readings are “thought” and “youth.”

4. Meschance: wickedness; French, “mechancete.”

5. This line seems to be a kind of aside thrown in by Chaucer himself.

6. The various readings of this word are “churl,” or “cherl,” in the best manuscripts; “client” in the common editions, and “clerk” supported by two important manuscripts. “Client” would perhaps be the best reading, if it were not awkward for the metre; but between “churl” and ”clerk” there can be little doubt that Mr Wright chose wisely when he preferred the second.

7. Judges xi. 37, 38. “And she said unto her father, Let . . . me alone two months, that I may go up and down upon the mountains, and bewail my virginity, I and my fellows. And he said, go.”

8. Beguiled: “cast into gaol,” according to Urry’s explanation; though we should probably understand that, if Claudius had not been sent out of the country, his death would have been secretly contrived through private detestation.

THE PARDONER’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

OUR Hoste gan to swear as he were wood; “Harow!” quoth he, “by nailes and by blood, <1> This was a cursed thief, a false justice. As shameful death as hearte can devise
Come to these judges and their advoca’s.* *advocates, counsellors Algate* this sely** maid is slain, alas! *nevertheless **innocent Alas! too deare bought she her beauty.
Wherefore I say, that all day man may see That giftes of fortune and of nature
Be cause of death to many a creature. Her beauty was her death, I dare well sayn; Alas! so piteously as she was slain.
[Of bothe giftes, that I speak of now Men have full often more harm than prow,*] *profit But truely, mine owen master dear,
This was a piteous tale for to hear; But natheless, pass over; ’tis *no force.* *no matter* I pray to God to save thy gentle corse,* *body And eke thine urinals, and thy jordans,
Thine Hippocras, and eke thy Galliens, <2> And every boist* full of thy lectuary, *box <3> God bless them, and our lady Sainte Mary. So may I the’,* thou art a proper man, *thrive And like a prelate, by Saint Ronian;
Said I not well? Can I not speak *in term?* *in set form* But well I wot thou dost* mine heart to erme,** *makest **grieve<4> That I have almost caught a cardiacle:* *heartache <5> By corpus Domini <6>, but* I have triacle,** *unless **a remedy Or else a draught of moist and corny <7> ale, Or but* I hear anon a merry tale, *unless Mine heart is brost* for pity of this maid. *burst, broken Thou *bel ami,* thou Pardoner,” he said, *good friend* “Tell us some mirth of japes* right anon.” *jokes “It shall be done,” quoth he, “by Saint Ronion. But first,” quoth he, “here at this ale-stake* *ale-house sign <8> I will both drink, and biten on a cake.” But right anon the gentles gan to cry,
“Nay, let him tell us of no ribaldry. Tell us some moral thing, that we may lear* *learn Some wit,* and thenne will we gladly hear.” *wisdom, sense “I grant y-wis,”* quoth he; “but I must think *surely Upon some honest thing while that I drink.”

Notes to the Prologue to the Pardoner’s Tale

1. The nails and blood of Christ, by which it was then a fashion to swear.

2. Mediaeval medical writers; see note 36 to the Prologue to the Tales.

3. Boist: box; French “boite,” old form “boiste.”

4. Erme: grieve; from Anglo-Saxon, “earme,” wretched.

5. Cardiacle: heartache; from Greek, “kardialgia.”

6. Corpus Domini: God’s body.

7. Corny ale: New and strong, nappy. As to “moist,” see note 39 to the Prologue to the Tales.

8. (Transcriber’s Note)In this scene the pilgrims are refreshing themselves at tables in front of an inn. The pardoner is drunk, which explains his boastful and revealing confession of his deceits.

THE TALE <1>

Lordings (quoth he), in churche when I preach, I paine me to have an hautein* speech, *take pains **loud <2> And ring it out, as round as doth a bell, For I know all by rote that I tell.
My theme is always one, and ever was; Radix malorum est cupiditas.<3>
First I pronounce whence that I come, And then my bulles shew I all and some;
Our liege lorde’s seal on my patent, That shew I first, *my body to warrent,* *for the protection That no man be so hardy, priest nor clerk, of my person* Me to disturb of Christe’s holy werk.
And after that then tell I forth my tales. Bulles of popes, and of cardinales,
Of patriarchs, and of bishops I shew, And in Latin I speak a wordes few,
To savour with my predication,
And for to stir men to devotion
Then show I forth my longe crystal stones, Y-crammed fall of cloutes* and of bones; *rags, fragments Relics they be, as *weene they* each one. *as my listeners think* Then have I in latoun* a shoulder-bone *brass Which that was of a holy Jewe’s sheep.
“Good men,” say I, “take of my wordes keep;* *heed If that this bone be wash’d in any well, If cow, or calf, or sheep, or oxe swell, That any worm hath eat, or worm y-stung, Take water of that well, and wash his tongue, And it is whole anon; and farthermore
Of pockes, and of scab, and every sore Shall every sheep be whole, that of this well Drinketh a draught; take keep* of that I tell. *heed

“If that the goodman, that the beastes oweth,* *owneth Will every week, ere that the cock him croweth, Fasting, y-drinken of this well a draught, As thilke holy Jew our elders taught,
His beastes and his store shall multiply. And, Sirs, also it healeth jealousy;
For though a man be fall’n in jealous rage, Let make with this water his pottage,
And never shall he more his wife mistrist,* *mistrust *Though he the sooth of her defaulte wist;* *though he truly All had she taken priestes two or three. <4> knew her sin* Here is a mittain* eke, that ye may see; *glove, mitten He that his hand will put in this mittain, He shall have multiplying of his grain,
When he hath sowen, be it wheat or oats, So that he offer pence, or elles groats. And, men and women, one thing warn I you; If any wight be in this churche now
That hath done sin horrible, so that he Dare not for shame of it y-shriven* be; *confessed Or any woman, be she young or old,
That hath y-made her husband cokewold,* *cuckold Such folk shall have no power nor no grace To offer to my relics in this place.
And whoso findeth him out of such blame, He will come up and offer in God’s name; And I assoil* him by the authority *absolve Which that by bull y-granted was to me.”

By this gaud* have I wonne year by year *jest, trick A hundred marks, since I was pardonere.
I stande like a clerk in my pulpit, And when the lewed* people down is set, *ignorant I preache so as ye have heard before,
And telle them a hundred japes* more. *jests, deceits Then pain I me to stretche forth my neck, And east and west upon the people I beck, As doth a dove, sitting on a bern;* *barn My handes and my tongue go so yern,* *briskly That it is joy to see my business.
Of avarice and of such cursedness* *wickedness Is all my preaching, for to make them free To give their pence, and namely* unto me. *especially For mine intent is not but for to win,
And nothing for correction of sin.
I recke never, when that they be buried, Though that their soules go a blackburied.<5> For certes *many a predication *preaching is often inspired Cometh oft-time of evil intention;* by evil motives* Some for pleasance of folk, and flattery, To be advanced by hypocrisy;
And some for vainglory, and some for hate. For, when I dare not otherwise debate,
Then will I sting him with my tongue smart* *sharply In preaching, so that he shall not astart* *escape To be defamed falsely, if that he
Hath trespass’d* to my brethren or to me. *offended For, though I telle not his proper name, Men shall well knowe that it is the same By signes, and by other circumstances.
Thus *quite I* folk that do us displeasances: *I am revenged on* Thus spit I out my venom, under hue
Of holiness, to seem holy and true. But, shortly mine intent I will devise,
I preach of nothing but of covetise. Therefore my theme is yet, and ever was, — Radix malorum est cupiditas. <3>
Thus can I preach against the same vice Which that I use, and that is avarice.
But though myself be guilty in that sin, Yet can I maken other folk to twin* *depart From avarice, and sore them repent.
But that is not my principal intent; I preache nothing but for covetise.
Of this mattere it ought enough suffice. Then tell I them examples many a one,
Of olde stories longe time gone;
For lewed* people love tales old; *unlearned Such thinges can they well report and hold. What? trowe ye, that whiles I may preach And winne gold and silver for* I teach, *because That I will live in povert’ wilfully?
Nay, nay, I thought it never truely. For I will preach and beg in sundry lands; I will not do no labour with mine hands, Nor make baskets for to live thereby,
Because I will not beggen idlely.
I will none of the apostles counterfeit;* *imitate (in poverty) I will have money, wool, and cheese, and wheat, All* were it given of the poorest page, *even if Or of the pooreste widow in a village:
All should her children sterve* for famine. *die Nay, I will drink the liquor of the vine, And have a jolly wench in every town.
But hearken, lordings, in conclusioun; Your liking is, that I shall tell a tale Now I have drunk a draught of corny ale, By God, I hope I shall you tell a thing
That shall by reason be to your liking; For though myself be a full vicious man, A moral tale yet I you telle can,
Which I am wont to preache, for to win. Now hold your peace, my tale I will begin.

In Flanders whilom was a company
Of younge folkes, that haunted folly, As riot, hazard, stewes,* and taverns; *brothels Where as with lutes, harpes, and giterns,* *guitars They dance and play at dice both day and night, And eat also, and drink over their might; Through which they do the devil sacrifice Within the devil’s temple, in cursed wise, By superfluity abominable.
Their oathes be so great and so damnable, That it is grisly* for to hear them swear. *dreadful <6> Our blissful Lorde’s body they to-tear;* *tore to pieces <7> Them thought the Jewes rent him not enough, And each of them at other’s sinne lough.* *laughed And right anon in come tombesteres <8> Fetis* and small, and younge fruitesteres.** *dainty **fruit-girls Singers with harpes, baudes,* waferers,** *revellers **cake-sellers Which be the very devil’s officers,
To kindle and blow the fire of lechery, That is annexed unto gluttony.
The Holy Writ take I to my witness, That luxury is in wine and drunkenness. <9> Lo, how that drunken Lot unkindely* *unnaturally Lay by his daughters two unwittingly,
So drunk he was he knew not what he wrought. Herodes, who so well the stories sought, <10> When he of wine replete was at his feast, Right at his owen table gave his hest* *command To slay the Baptist John full guilteless. Seneca saith a good word, doubteless:
He saith he can no difference find
Betwixt a man that is out of his mind, And a man whiche that is drunkelew:* *a drunkard <11> But that woodness,* y-fallen in a shrew,* *madness **one evil-tempered Persevereth longer than drunkenness.

O gluttony, full of all cursedness;
O cause first of our confusion,
Original of our damnation,
Till Christ had bought us with his blood again! Looke, how deare, shortly for to sayn,
Abought* was first this cursed villainy: *atoned for Corrupt was all this world for gluttony. Adam our father, and his wife also,
From Paradise, to labour and to woe, Were driven for that vice, it is no dread.* *doubt For while that Adam fasted, as I read,
He was in Paradise; and when that he Ate of the fruit defended* of the tree, *forbidden <12> Anon he was cast out to woe and pain.
O gluttony! well ought us on thee plain. Oh! wist a man how many maladies
Follow of excess and of gluttonies, He woulde be the more measurable* *moderate Of his diete, sitting at his table.
Alas! the shorte throat, the tender mouth, Maketh that east and west, and north and south, In earth, in air, in water, men do swink* *labour To get a glutton dainty meat and drink.
Of this mattere, O Paul! well canst thou treat Meat unto womb,* and womb eke unto meat, *belly Shall God destroye both, as Paulus saith. <13> Alas! a foul thing is it, by my faith,
To say this word, and fouler is the deed, When man so drinketh of the *white and red,* *i.e. wine* That of his throat he maketh his privy
Through thilke cursed superfluity
The apostle saith, <14> weeping full piteously, There walk many, of which you told have I, — I say it now weeping with piteous voice, — That they be enemies of Christe’s crois;* *cross Of which the end is death; womb* is their God. *belly O womb, O belly, stinking is thy cod,* *bag <15> Full fill’d of dung and of corruptioun;
At either end of thee foul is the soun. How great labour and cost is thee to find!* *supply These cookes how they stamp, and strain, and grind, And turne substance into accident,
To fulfill all thy likerous talent! Out of the harde bones knocke they
The marrow, for they caste naught away That may go through the gullet soft and swoot* *sweet Of spicery and leaves, of bark and root, Shall be his sauce y-maked by delight,
To make him have a newer appetite.
But, certes, he that haunteth such delices Is dead while that he liveth in those vices.

A lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness Is full of striving and of wretchedness. O drunken man! disfgur’d is thy face,<16> Sour is thy breath, foul art thou to embrace: And through thy drunken nose sowneth the soun’, As though thous saidest aye, Samsoun! Samsoun! And yet, God wot, Samson drank never wine. Thou fallest as it were a sticked swine; Thy tongue is lost, and all thine honest cure;* *care For drunkenness is very sepulture* *tomb Of manne’s wit and his discretion.
In whom that drink hath domination, He can no counsel keep, it is no dread.* *doubt Now keep you from the white and from the red, And namely* from the white wine of Lepe,<17> *especially That is to sell in Fish Street <18> and in Cheap. This wine of Spaine creepeth subtilly — In other wines growing faste by,
Of which there riseth such fumosity, That when a man hath drunken draughtes three, And weeneth that he be at home in Cheap, He is in Spain, right at the town of Lepe, Not at the Rochelle, nor at Bourdeaux town; And thenne will he say, Samsoun! Samsoun! But hearken, lordings, one word, I you pray, That all the sovreign actes, dare I say, Of victories in the Old Testament,
Through very God that is omnipotent, Were done in abstinence and in prayere:
Look in the Bible, and there ye may it lear.* *learn Look, Attila, the greate conqueror,
Died in his sleep, <19> with shame and dishonour, Bleeding aye at his nose in drunkenness: A captain should aye live in soberness
And o’er all this, advise* you right well *consider, bethink What was commanded unto Lemuel; <20> Not Samuel, but Lemuel, say I.
Reade the Bible, and find it expressly Of wine giving to them that have justice. No more of this, for it may well suffice.

And, now that I have spoke of gluttony, Now will I you *defende hazardry.* *forbid gambling* Hazard is very mother of leasings,* *lies And of deceit, and cursed forswearings:
Blasphem’ of Christ, manslaughter, and waste also Of chattel* and of time; and furthermo’ *property It is repreve,* and contrar’ of honour, *reproach For to be held a common hazardour.
And ever the higher he is of estate, The more he is holden desolate.* *undone, worthless If that a prince use hazardry,
In alle governance and policy
He is, as by common opinion,
Y-hold the less in reputation.

Chilon, that was a wise ambassador,
Was sent to Corinth with full great honor From Lacedemon, <21> to make alliance; And when he came, it happen’d him, by chance, That all the greatest that were of that land, Y-playing atte hazard he them fand.* *found For which, as soon as that it mighte be, He stole him home again to his country
And saide there, “I will not lose my name, Nor will I take on me so great diffame,* *reproach You to ally unto no hazardors.* *gamblers Sende some other wise ambassadors,
For, by my troth, me were lever* die, *rather Than I should you to hazardors ally.
For ye, that be so glorious in honours, Shall not ally you to no hazardours,
As by my will, nor as by my treaty.” This wise philosopher thus said he.
Look eke how to the King Demetrius
The King of Parthes, as the book saith us, Sent him a pair of dice of gold in scorn, For he had used hazard therebeforn:
For which he held his glory and renown At no value or reputatioun.
Lordes may finden other manner play Honest enough to drive the day away.

Now will I speak of oathes false and great A word or two, as olde bookes treat.
Great swearing is a thing abominable, And false swearing is more reprovable.
The highe God forbade swearing at all; Witness on Matthew: <22> but in special Of swearing saith the holy Jeremie, <23> Thou thalt swear sooth thine oathes, and not lie: And swear in doom* and eke in righteousness; *judgement But idle swearing is a cursedness.* *wickedness Behold and see, there in the firste table Of highe Godde’s hestes* honourable, *commandments How that the second best of him is this, Take not my name in idle* or amiss. *in vain Lo, rather* he forbiddeth such swearing, *sooner Than homicide, or many a cursed thing;
I say that as by order thus it standeth; This knoweth he that his hests* understandeth, *commandments How that the second hest of God is that. And farthermore, I will thee tell all plat,* *flatly, plainly That vengeance shall not parte from his house, That of his oathes is outrageous.
“By Godde’s precious heart, and by his nails, <24> And by the blood of Christ, that is in Hailes, <25> Seven is my chance, and thine is cinque and trey: By Godde’s armes, if thou falsely play,
This dagger shall throughout thine hearte go.” This fruit comes of the *bicched bones two,* *two cursed bones (dice)* Forswearing, ire, falseness, and homicide. Now, for the love of Christ that for us died, Leave your oathes, bothe great and smale. But, Sirs, now will I ell you forth my tale.

These riotoures three, of which I tell, Long *erst than* prime rang of any bell, *before Were set them in a tavern for to drink;
And as they sat, they heard a belle clink Before a corpse, was carried to the grave. That one of them gan calle to his knave,* *servant “Go bet,” <26> quoth he, “and aske readily What corpse is this, that passeth here forth by; And look that thou report his name well.” “Sir,” quoth the boy, “it needeth never a deal;* *whit It was me told ere ye came here two hours; He was, pardie, an old fellow of yours,
And suddenly he was y-slain to-night; Fordrunk* as he sat on his bench upright, *completely drunk There came a privy thief, men clepe Death, That in this country all the people slay’th, And with his spear he smote his heart in two, And went his way withoute wordes mo’.
He hath a thousand slain this pestilence; And, master, ere you come in his presence, Me thinketh that it were full necessary
For to beware of such an adversary; Be ready for to meet him evermore.
Thus taughte me my dame; I say no more.” “By Sainte Mary,” said the tavernere,
“The child saith sooth, for he hath slain this year, Hence ov’r a mile, within a great village, Both man and woman, child, and hind, and page; I trow his habitation be there;
To be advised* great wisdom it were, *watchful, on one’s guard Ere* that he did a man a dishonour.” *lest

“Yea, Godde’s armes,” quoth this riotour, “Is it such peril with him for to meet?
I shall him seek, by stile and eke by street. I make a vow, by Godde’s digne* bones.” *worthy Hearken, fellows, we three be alle ones:* *at one Let each of us hold up his hand to other, And each of us become the other’s brother, And we will slay this false traitor Death; He shall be slain, he that so many slay’th, By Godde’s dignity, ere it be night.”
Together have these three their trothe plight To live and die each one of them for other As though he were his owen sworen brother. And up they start, all drunken, in this rage, And forth they go towardes that village
Of which the taverner had spoke beforn, And many a grisly* oathe have they sworn, *dreadful And Christe’s blessed body they to-rent;* *tore to pieces <7> “Death shall be dead, if that we may him hent.”* *catch When they had gone not fully half a mile, Right as they would have trodden o’er a stile, An old man and a poore with them met.
This olde man full meekely them gret,* *greeted And saide thus; “Now, lordes, God you see!”* *look on graciously The proudest of these riotoures three
Answer’d again; “What? churl, with sorry grace, Why art thou all forwrapped* save thy face? *closely wrapt up Why livest thou so long in so great age?” This olde man gan look on his visage,
And saide thus; “For that I cannot find A man, though that I walked unto Ind,
Neither in city, nor in no village go, That woulde change his youthe for mine age; And therefore must I have mine age still As longe time as it is Godde’s will.
And Death, alas! he will not have my life. Thus walk I like a resteless caitife,* *miserable wretch And on the ground, which is my mother’s gate, I knocke with my staff, early and late,
And say to her, ‘Leve* mother, let me in. *dear Lo, how I wane, flesh, and blood, and skin; Alas! when shall my bones be at rest?
Mother, with you I woulde change my chest, That in my chamber longe time hath be,
Yea, for an hairy clout to *wrap in me.’* *wrap myself in* But yet to me she will not do that grace, For which fall pale and welked* is my face. *withered But, Sirs, to you it is no courtesy
To speak unto an old man villainy,
But* he trespass in word or else in deed. *except In Holy Writ ye may yourselves read;
‘Against* an old man, hoar upon his head, *to meet Ye should arise:’ therefore I you rede,* *advise Ne do unto an old man no harm now,
No more than ye would a man did you In age, if that ye may so long abide.
And God be with you, whether ye go or ride I must go thither as I have to go.”

“Nay, olde churl, by God thou shalt not so,” Saide this other hazardor anon;
“Thou partest not so lightly, by Saint John. Thou spakest right now of that traitor Death, That in this country all our friendes slay’th; Have here my troth, as thou art his espy;* *spy Tell where he is, or thou shalt it abie,* *suffer for By God and by the holy sacrament;
For soothly thou art one of his assent To slay us younge folk, thou false thief.” “Now, Sirs,” quoth he, “if it be you so lief* *desire To finde Death, turn up this crooked way, For in that grove I left him, by my fay, Under a tree, and there he will abide;
Nor for your boast he will him nothing hide. See ye that oak? right there ye shall him find. God save you, that bought again mankind, And you amend!” Thus said this olde man; And evereach of these riotoures ran,
Till they came to the tree, and there they found Of florins fine, of gold y-coined round, Well nigh a seven bushels, as them thought. No longer as then after Death they sought; But each of them so glad was of the sight, For that the florins were so fair and bright, That down they sat them by the precious hoard. The youngest of them spake the firste word: “Brethren,” quoth he, “*take keep* what I shall say; *heed* My wit is great, though that I bourde* and play *joke, frolic This treasure hath Fortune unto us given In mirth and jollity our life to liven;
And lightly as it comes, so will we spend. Hey! Godde’s precious dignity! who wend* *weened, thought Today that we should have so fair a grace? But might this gold he carried from this place Home to my house, or elles unto yours
(For well I wot that all this gold is ours), Then were we in high felicity.
But truely by day it may not be;
Men woulde say that we were thieves strong, And for our owen treasure do us hong.* *have us hanged This treasure muste carried be by night, As wisely and as slily as it might.
Wherefore I rede,* that cut** among us all *advise **lots We draw, and let see where the cut will fall: And he that hath the cut, with hearte blithe Shall run unto the town, and that full swithe,* *quickly And bring us bread and wine full privily: And two of us shall keepe subtilly
This treasure well: and if he will not tarry, When it is night, we will this treasure carry, By one assent, where as us thinketh best.” Then one of them the cut brought in his fist, And bade them draw, and look where it would fall; And it fell on the youngest of them all; And forth toward the town he went anon.
And all so soon as that he was y-gone, The one of them spake thus unto the other; “Thou knowest well that thou art my sworn brother, *Thy profit* will I tell thee right anon. *what is for thine Thou knowest well that our fellow is gone, advantage* And here is gold, and that full great plenty, That shall departed* he among us three. *divided But natheless, if I could shape* it so *contrive That it departed were among us two,
Had I not done a friende’s turn to thee?” Th’ other answer’d, “I n’ot* how that may be; *know not He knows well that the gold is with us tway. What shall we do? what shall we to him say?” “Shall it be counsel?”* said the firste shrew;** *secret **wretch “And I shall tell to thee in wordes few
What we shall do, and bring it well about.” “I grante,” quoth the other, “out of doubt, That by my truth I will thee not bewray.”* *betray “Now,” quoth the first, “thou know’st well we be tway, And two of us shall stronger be than one. Look; when that he is set,* thou right anon *sat down Arise, as though thou wouldest with him play; And I shall rive* him through the sides tway, *stab While that thou strugglest with him as in game; And with thy dagger look thou do the same. And then shall all this gold departed* be, *divided My deare friend, betwixte thee and me:
Then may we both our lustes* all fulfil, *pleasures And play at dice right at our owen will.” And thus accorded* be these shrewes** tway *agreed **wretches To slay the third, as ye have heard me say.

The youngest, which that wente to the town, Full oft in heart he rolled up and down
The beauty of these florins new and bright. “O Lord!” quoth he, “if so were that I might Have all this treasure to myself alone,
There is no man that lives under the throne Of God, that shoulde have so merry as I.” And at the last the fiend our enemy
Put in his thought, that he should poison buy, With which he mighte slay his fellows twy.* *two For why, the fiend found him *in such living,* *leading such a That he had leave to sorrow him to bring. (bad) life* For this was utterly his full intent
To slay them both, and never to repent. And forth he went, no longer would he tarry, Into the town to an apothecary,
And prayed him that he him woulde sell Some poison, that he might *his rattes quell,* *kill his rats* And eke there was a polecat in his haw,* *farm-yard, hedge <27> That, as he said, his eapons had y-slaw:* *slain And fain he would him wreak,* if that he might, *revenge Of vermin that destroyed him by night.
Th’apothecary answer’d, “Thou shalt have A thing, as wisly* God my soule save, *surely In all this world there is no creature
That eat or drank hath of this confecture, Not but the mountance* of a corn of wheat, *amount That he shall not his life *anon forlete;* *immediately lay down* Yea, sterve* he shall, and that in lesse while *die Than thou wilt go *apace* nought but a mile: *quickly* This poison is so strong and violent.”
This cursed man hath in his hand y-hent* *taken This poison in a box, and swift he ran
Into the nexte street, unto a man,
And borrow’d of him large bottles three; And in the two the poison poured he;
The third he kepte clean for his own drink, For all the night he shope him* for to swink** *purposed **labour In carrying off the gold out of that place. And when this riotour, with sorry grace, Had fill’d with wine his greate bottles three,

To his fellows again repaired he.
What needeth it thereof to sermon* more? *talk, discourse For, right as they had cast* his death before, *plotted Right so they have him slain, and that anon. And when that this was done, thus spake the one; “Now let us sit and drink, and make us merry, And afterward we will his body bury.”
And with that word it happen’d him *par cas* *by chance To take the bottle where the poison was, And drank, and gave his fellow drink also, For which anon they sterved* both the two. *died But certes I suppose that Avicen
Wrote never in no canon, nor no fen, <28> More wondrous signes of empoisoning,
Than had these wretches two ere their ending. Thus ended be these homicides two,
And eke the false empoisoner also.

O cursed sin, full of all cursedness! O trait’rous homicide! O wickedness!
O glutt’ny, luxury, and hazardry!
Thou blasphemer of Christ with villany,* *outrage, impiety And oathes great, of usage and of pride! Alas! mankinde, how may it betide,
That to thy Creator, which that thee wrought, And with his precious hearte-blood thee bought, Thou art so false and so unkind,* alas! *unnatural Now, good men, God forgive you your trespass, And ware* you from the sin of avarice. *keep Mine holy pardon may you all warice,* *heal So that ye offer *nobles or sterlings,* *gold or silver coins* Or elles silver brooches, spoons, or rings. Bowe your head under this holy bull.
Come up, ye wives, and offer of your will; Your names I enter in my roll anon;
Into the bliss of heaven shall ye gon; I you assoil* by mine high powere, *absolve <29> You that will offer, as clean and eke as clear As ye were born. Lo, Sires, thus I preach; And Jesus Christ, that is our soules’ leech,* *healer So grante you his pardon to receive;
For that is best, I will not deceive.

But, Sirs, one word forgot I in my tale; I have relics and pardon in my mail,
As fair as any man in Engleland,
Which were me given by the Pope’s hand. If any of you will of devotion
Offer, and have mine absolution,
Come forth anon, and kneele here adown And meekely receive my pardoun.
Or elles take pardon, as ye wend,* *go All new and fresh at every towne’s end,
So that ye offer, always new and new, Nobles or pence which that be good and true. ‘Tis an honour to evereach* that is here, *each one That ye have a suffisant* pardonere *suitable T’assoile* you in country as ye ride, *absolve For aventures which that may betide.
Paraventure there may fall one or two Down of his horse, and break his neck in two. Look, what a surety is it to you all,
That I am in your fellowship y-fall, That may assoil* you bothe *more and lass,* *absolve When that the soul shall from the body pass. *great and small* I rede* that our Hoste shall begin, *advise For he is most enveloped in sin.
Come forth, Sir Host, and offer first anon, And thou shalt kiss; the relics every one, Yea, for a groat; unbuckle anon thy purse.

“Nay, nay,” quoth he, “then have I Christe’s curse! Let be,” quoth he, “it shall not be, *so the’ch.* *so may I thrive* Thou wouldest make me kiss thine olde breech, And swear it were a relic of a saint,
Though it were with thy *fundament depaint’.* *stained by your bottom* But, by the cross which that Saint Helen fand,* *found <30> I would I had thy coilons* in mine hand, *testicles Instead of relics, or of sanctuary.
Let cut them off, I will thee help them carry; They shall be shrined in a hogge’s turd.” The Pardoner answered not one word;
So wroth he was, no worde would he say.

“Now,” quoth our Host, “I will no longer play With thee, nor with none other angry man.” But right anon the worthy Knight began
(When that he saw that all the people lough*), *laughed “No more of this, for it is right enough. Sir Pardoner, be merry and glad of cheer; And ye, Sir Host, that be to me so dear, I pray you that ye kiss the Pardoner;
And, Pardoner, I pray thee draw thee ner,* *nearer And as we didde, let us laugh and play.” Anon they kiss’d, and rode forth their way.

Notes to the Pardoner’s Tale

1. The outline of this Tale is to be found in the “Cento Novelle Antiche,” but the original is now lost. As in the case of the Wife of Bath’s Tale, there is a long prologue, but in this case it has been treated as part of the Tale.

2. Hautein: loud, lofty; from French, “hautain.”

3. Radix malorum est cupiditas: “the love of money is the root of all evil” (1 Tim.vi. 10)

4.All had she taken priestes two or three: even if she had committed adultery with two or three priests.

5. Blackburied: The meaning of this is not very clear, but it is probably a periphrastic and picturesque way of indicating damnation.

6. Grisly: dreadful; fitted to “agrise” or horrify the listener.

7. Mr Wright says: “The common oaths in the Middle Ages were by the different parts of God’s body; and the popular preachers represented that profane swearers tore Christ’s body by their imprecations.” The idea was doubtless borrowed from the passage in Hebrews (vi. 6), where apostates are said to “crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put Him to an open shame.”

8. Tombesteres: female dancers or tumblers; from Anglo- Saxon, “tumban,” to dance.

9. “Be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess.” Eph. v.18.

10. The reference is probably to the diligent inquiries Herod made at the time of Christ’s birth. See Matt. ii. 4-8

11. A drunkard. “Perhaps,” says Tyrwhitt, “Chaucer refers to Epist. LXXXIII., ‘Extende in plures dies illum ebrii habitum; nunquid de furore dubitabis? nunc quoque non est minor sed brevior.'” (“Prolong the drunkard’s condition to several days; will you doubt his madness? Even as it is, the madness is no less; merely shorter.”)

12. Defended: forbidden; French, “defendu.” St Jerome, in his book against Jovinian, says that so long as Adam fasted, he was in Paradise; he ate, and he was thrust out.

13. “Meats for the belly, and the belly for meats; but God shall destroy both it and them.” 1 Cor. vi. 13.

14. “For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ: Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things.” Phil. iii. 18, 19.

15. Cod: bag; Anglo-Saxon, “codde;” hence peas-cod, pin-cod (pin-cushion), &c.

16. Compare with the lines which follow, the picture of the drunken messenger in the Man of Law’s Tale.

17. Lepe: A town near Cadiz, whence a stronger wine than the Gascon vintages afforded was imported to England. French wine was often adulterated with the cheaper and stronger Spanish.

18. Another reading is “Fleet Street.”

19. Attila was suffocated in the night by a haemorrhage, brought on by a debauch, when he was preparing a new invasion of Italy, in 453.

20. “It is not for kings, O Lemuel, it is not for kings to drink wine, nor for princes strong drink; lest they drink, and forget the law, and pervert the judgment of any of the afflicted.” Prov. xxxi. 4, 5.

21. Most manuscripts, evidently in error, have “Stilbon” and “Calidone” for Chilon and Lacedaemon. Chilon was one of the seven sages of Greece, and flourished about B.C. 590. According to Diogenes Laertius, he died, under the pressure of age and joy, in the arms of his son, who had just been crowned victor at the Olympic games.

22. “Swear not at all;” Christ’s words in Matt. v. 34.

23. “And thou shalt swear, the lord liveth in truth, in judgement, and in righteousness.” Jeremiah iv. 2

24. The nails that fastened Christ on the cross, which were regarded with superstitious reverence.

25. Hailes: An abbey in Gloucestershire, where, under the designation of “the blood of Hailes,” a portion of Christ’s blood was preserved.

26. Go bet: a hunting phrase; apparently its force is, “go beat up the game.”

27. Haw; farm-yard, hedge Compare the French, “haie.”

28. Avicen, or Avicenna, was among the distinguished physicians of the Arabian school in the eleventh century, and very popular in the Middle Ages. His great work was called “Canon Medicinae,” and was divided into “fens,” “fennes,” or sections.

29. Assoil: absolve. compare the Scotch law-term “assoilzie,” to acquit.

30. Saint Helen, according to Sir John Mandeville, found the cross of Christ deep below ground, under a rock, where the Jews had hidden it; and she tested the genuineness of the sacred tree, by raising to life a dead man laid upon it.

THE SHIPMAN’S TALE.<1>

THE PROLOGUE

Our Host upon his stirrups stood anon, And saide; “Good men, hearken every one, This was a thrifty* tale for the nones. *discreet, profitable Sir Parish Priest,” quoth he, “for Godde’s bones, Tell us a tale, as was thy *forword yore:* *promise formerly* I see well that ye learned men in lore
Can* muche good, by Godde’s dignity.” *know The Parson him answer’d, “Ben’dicite!
What ails the man, so sinfully to swear?” Our Host answer’d, “O Jankin, be ye there? Now, good men,” quoth our Host, “hearken to me. I smell a Lollard <2> in the wind,” quoth he. “Abide, for Godde’s digne* passion, *worthy For we shall have a predication:
This Lollard here will preachen us somewhat.” “Nay, by my father’s soul, that shall he not, Saide the Shipman; “Here shall he not preach, He shall no gospel glose* here nor teach. *comment upon We all believe in the great God,” quoth he. “He woulde sowe some difficulty,
Or springe cockle <3> in our cleane corn. And therefore, Host, I warne thee beforn, My jolly body shall a tale tell,
And I shall clinke you so merry a bell, That I shall waken all this company;
But it shall not be of philosophy,
Nor of physic, nor termes quaint of law; There is but little Latin in my maw.”* *belly

Notes to the Prologue to the Shipman’s Tale

1. The Prologue here given was transferred by Tyrwhitt from the place, preceding the Squire’s Tale, which it had formerly occupied; the Shipman’s Tale having no Prologue in the best manuscripts.

2. Lollard: A contemptuous name for the followers of Wyckliffe; presumably derived from the Latin, “lolium,” tares, as if they were the tares among the Lord’s wheat; so, a few lines below, the Shipman intimates his fear lest the Parson should “spring cockle in our clean corn.”

3. Cockle: A weed, the “Agrostemma githago” of Linnaeus; perhaps named from the Anglo-Saxon, “ceocan,” because it chokes the corn.
(Transcriber’s note: It is also possible Chaucer had in mind Matthew 13:25, where in some translations, an enemy sowed “cockle” amongst the wheat. (Other translations have “tares” and “darnel”.))

THE TALE. <1>

A Merchant whilom dwell’d at Saint Denise, That riche was, for which men held him wise. A wife he had of excellent beauty,
And *companiable and revellous* was she, *fond of society and Which is a thing that causeth more dispence merry making* Than worth is all the cheer and reverence That men them do at feastes and at dances. Such salutations and countenances
Passen, as doth the shadow on the wall; Put woe is him that paye must for all.
The sely* husband algate** he must pay, *innocent **always He must us <2> clothe and he must us array All for his owen worship richely:
In which array we dance jollily.
And if that he may not, paraventure, Or elles list not such dispence endure,
But thinketh it is wasted and y-lost, Then must another paye for our cost,
Or lend us gold, and that is perilous.

This noble merchant held a noble house; For which he had all day so great repair,* *resort of visitors For his largesse, and for his wife was fair, That wonder is; but hearken to my tale.
Amonges all these guestes great and smale, There was a monk, a fair man and a bold, I trow a thirty winter he was old,
That ever-in-one* was drawing to that place. *constantly This younge monk, that was so fair of face, Acquainted was so with this goode man,
Since that their firste knowledge began, That in his house as familiar was he
As it is possible any friend to be. And, for as muchel as this goode man,
And eke this monk of which that I began, Were both the two y-born in one village, The monk *him claimed, as for cousinage,* *claimed kindred And he again him said not once nay, with him* But was as glad thereof as fowl of day;
“For to his heart it was a great pleasance. Thus be they knit with etern’ alliance,
And each of them gan other to assure Of brotherhood while that their life may dure. Free was Dan <3> John, and namely* of dispence,** *especially **spending As in that house, and full of diligence
To do pleasance, and also *great costage;* *liberal outlay* He not forgot to give the leaste page
In all that house; but, after their degree, He gave the lord, and sithen* his meinie,** *afterwards **servants When that he came, some manner honest thing; For which they were as glad of his coming As fowl is fain when that the sun upriseth. No more of this as now, for it sufficeth.

But so befell, this merchant on a day Shope* him to make ready his array *resolved, arranged Toward the town of Bruges <4> for to fare, To buye there a portion of ware;* *merchandise For which he hath to Paris sent anon
A messenger, and prayed hath Dan John That he should come to Saint Denis, and play* *enjoy himself With him, and with his wife, a day or tway, Ere he to Bruges went, in alle wise.
This noble monk, of which I you devise,* *tell Had of his abbot, as him list, licence,
(Because he was a man of high prudence, And eke an officer out for to ride,
To see their granges and their barnes wide); <5> And unto Saint Denis he came anon.
Who was so welcome as my lord Dan John, Our deare cousin, full of courtesy?
With him he brought a jub* of malvesie, *jug And eke another full of fine vernage, <6> And volatile,* as aye was his usage: *wild-fowl And thus I let them eat, and drink, and play, This merchant and this monk, a day or tway. The thirde day the merchant up ariseth,
And on his needeis sadly him adviseth; And up into his countour-house* went he, *counting-house <7> To reckon with himself as well may be,
Of thilke* year, how that it with him stood, *that And how that he dispended bad his good,
And if that he increased were or non. His bookes and his bagges many a one
He laid before him on his counting-board. Full riche was his treasure and his hoard; For which full fast his countour door he shet; And eke he would that no man should him let* *hinder Of his accountes, for the meane time:
And thus he sat, till it was passed prime.

Dan John was risen in the morn also,
And in the garden walked to and fro, And had his thinges said full courteously. The good wife came walking full privily
Into the garden, where he walked soft, And him saluted, as she had done oft;
A maiden child came in her company, Which as her list she might govern and gie,* *guide For yet under the yarde* was the maid. *rod <8> “O deare cousin mine, Dan John,” she said, “What aileth you so rath* for to arise?” *early “Niece,” quoth he, “it ought enough suffice Five houres for to sleep upon a night;’
But* it were for an old appalled** wight, *unless **pallid, wasted As be these wedded men, that lie and dare,* *stare As in a forme sits a weary hare,
Alle forstraught* with houndes great and smale; *distracted, confounded But, deare niece, why be ye so pale?
I trowe certes that our goode man
Hath you so laboured, since this night began, That you were need to reste hastily.”
And with that word he laugh’d full merrily, And of his owen thought he wax’d all red. This faire wife gan for to shake her head, And saide thus; “Yea, God wot all” quoth she. “Nay, cousin mine, it stands not so with me; For by that God, that gave me soul and life, In all the realm of France is there no wife That lesse lust hath to that sorry play; For I may sing alas and well-away!
That I was born; but to no wight,” quoth she, “Dare I not tell how that it stands with me. Wherefore I think out of this land to wend, Or elles of myself to make an end,
So full am I of dread and eke of care.”

This monk began upon this wife to stare, And said, “Alas! my niece, God forbid
That ye for any sorrow, or any dread, Fordo* yourself: but telle me your grief, *destroy Paraventure I may, in your mischief,* *distress Counsel or help; and therefore telle me
All your annoy, for it shall be secre. For on my portos* here I make an oath, *breviary That never in my life, *for lief nor loth,* *willing or unwilling* Ne shall I of no counsel you bewray.”
“The same again to you,” quoth she, “I say. By God and by this portos I you swear,
Though men me woulden all in pieces tear, Ne shall I never, for* to go to hell, *though I should Bewray* one word of thing that ye me tell, *betray For no cousinage, nor alliance,
But verily for love and affiance.”* *confidence, promise Thus be they sworn, and thereupon they kiss’d, And each of them told other what them list. “Cousin,” quoth she, “if that I hadde space, As I have none, and namely* in this place, *specially Then would I tell a legend of my life,
What I have suffer’d since I was a wife With mine husband, all* be he your cousin. *although “Nay,” quoth this monk, “by God and Saint Martin, He is no more cousin unto me,
Than is the leaf that hangeth on the tree; I call him so, by Saint Denis of France, To have the more cause of acquaintance
Of you, which I have loved specially Aboven alle women sickerly,* *surely This swear I you *on my professioun;* *by my vows of religion Tell me your grief, lest that he come adown, And hasten you, and go away anon.”

“My deare love,” quoth she, “O my Dan John, Full lief* were me this counsel for to hide, *pleasant But out it must, I may no more abide.
My husband is to me the worste man
That ever was since that the world began; But since I am a wife, it sits* not me *becomes To telle no wight of our privity,
Neither in bed, nor in none other place; God shield* I shoulde tell it for his grace; *forbid A wife shall not say of her husband
But all honour, as I can understand; Save unto you thus much I telle shall;
As help me God, he is nought worth at all In no degree, the value of a fly.
But yet me grieveth most his niggardy.* *stinginess And well ye wot, that women naturally
Desire thinges six, as well as I.
They woulde that their husbands shoulde be Hardy,* and wise, and rich, and thereto free, *brave And buxom* to his wife, and fresh in bed. *yielding, obedient But, by that ilke* Lord that for us bled, *same For his honour myself for to array,
On Sunday next I muste needes pay
A hundred francs, or elles am I lorn.* *ruined, undone Yet *were me lever* that I were unborn, *I would rather* Than me were done slander or villainy.
And if mine husband eke might it espy, I were but lost; and therefore I you pray, Lend me this sum, or elles must I dey.* *die Dan John, I say, lend me these hundred francs; Pardie, I will not faile you, *my thanks,* *if I can help it* If that you list to do that I you pray;
For at a certain day I will you pay, And do to you what pleasance and service That I may do, right as you list devise. And but* I do, God take on me vengeance, *unless As foul as e’er had Ganilion <9> of France.”

This gentle monk answer’d in this mannere; “Now truely, mine owen lady dear,
I have,” quoth he, “on you so greate ruth,* *pity That I you swear, and plighte you my truth, That when your husband is to Flanders fare,* *gone I will deliver you out of this care,
For I will bringe you a hundred francs.” And with that word he caught her by the flanks, And her embraced hard, and kissed her oft. “Go now your way,” quoth he, “all still and soft, And let us dine as soon as that ye may,
For by my cylinder* ’tis prime of day; *portable sundial Go now, and be as true as I shall be .”
“Now elles God forbidde, Sir,” quoth she; And forth she went, as jolly as a pie,
And bade the cookes that they should them hie,* *make haste So that men mighte dine, and that anon.
Up to her husband is this wife gone, And knocked at his contour boldely.
*”Qui est la?”* quoth he. “Peter! it am I,” *who is there?* Quoth she; “What, Sir, how longe all will ye fast? How longe time will ye reckon and cast
Your summes, and your bookes, and your things? The devil have part of all such reckonings! Ye have enough, pardie, of Godde’s sond.* *sending, gifts Come down to-day, and let your bagges stond.* *stand Ne be ye not ashamed, that Dan John
Shall fasting all this day elenge* gon? *see note <10> What? let us hear a mass, and go we dine.” “Wife,” quoth this man, “little canst thou divine The curious businesse that we have;
For of us chapmen,* all so God me save, *merchants And by that lord that cleped is Saint Ive, Scarcely amonges twenty, ten shall thrive Continually, lasting unto our age.
We may well make cheer and good visage, And drive forth the world as it may be,
And keepen our estate in privity,
Till we be dead, or elles that we play A pilgrimage, or go out of the way.
And therefore have I great necessity Upon this quaint* world to advise** me. *strange **consider For evermore must we stand in dread
Of hap and fortune in our chapmanhead.* *trading To Flanders will I go to-morrow at day,
And come again as soon as e’er I may: For which, my deare wife, I thee beseek *beseech As be to every wight buxom* and meek, *civil, courteous And for to keep our good be curious,
And honestly governe well our house. Thou hast enough, in every manner wise,
That to a thrifty household may suffice. Thee lacketh none array, nor no vitail;
Of silver in thy purse thou shalt not fail.”

And with that word his contour door he shet,* *shut And down he went; no longer would he let;* *delay, hinder And hastily a mass was there said,
And speedily the tables were laid,
And to the dinner faste they them sped, And richely this monk the chapman fed.
And after dinner Dan John soberly
This chapman took apart, and privily He said him thus: “Cousin, it standeth so, That, well I see, to Bruges ye will go;
God and Saint Austin speede you and guide. I pray you, cousin, wisely that ye ride: Governe you also of your diet
Attemperly,* and namely** in this heat. *moderately Betwixt us two needeth no *strange fare;* *ado, ceremony* Farewell, cousin, God shielde you from care. If any thing there be, by day or night,
If it lie in my power and my might, That ye me will command in any wise,
It shall be done, right as ye will devise. But one thing ere ye go, if it may be;
I woulde pray you for to lend to me A hundred frankes, for a week or twy,
For certain beastes that I muste buy, To store with a place that is ours
(God help me so, I would that it were yours); I shall not faile surely of my day,
Not for a thousand francs, a mile way. But let this thing be secret, I you pray; For yet to-night these beastes must I buy. And fare now well, mine owen cousin dear; *Grand mercy* of your cost and of your cheer.” *great thanks*

This noble merchant gentilly* anon *like a gentleman Answer’d and said, “O cousin mine, Dan John, Now sickerly this is a small request:
My gold is youres, when that it you lest, And not only my gold, but my chaffare;* *merchandise Take what you list, *God shielde that ye spare.* *God forbid that you But one thing is, ye know it well enow should take too little* Of chapmen, that their money is their plough. We may creance* while we have a name, *obtain credit But goldless for to be it is no game.
Pay it again when it lies in your ease; After my might full fain would I you please.”

These hundred frankes set he forth anon, And privily he took them to Dan John;
No wight in all this world wist of this loan, Saving the merchant and Dan John alone.
They drink, and speak, and roam a while, and play, Till that Dan John rode unto his abbay.
The morrow came, and forth this merchant rideth To Flanders-ward, his prentice well him guideth, Till he came unto Bruges merrily.
Now went this merchant fast and busily About his need, and buyed and creanced;* *got credit He neither played at the dice, nor danced; But as a merchant, shortly for to tell,
He led his life; and there I let him dwell.

The Sunday next* the merchant was y-gone, *after To Saint Denis y-comen is Dan John,
With crown and beard all fresh and newly shave, In all the house was not so little a knave,* *servant-boy Nor no wight elles that was not full fain For that my lord Dan John was come again. And shortly to the point right for to gon, The faire wife accorded with Dan John,
That for these hundred francs he should all night Have her in his armes bolt upright;
And this accord performed was in deed. In mirth all night a busy life they lead, Till it was day, that Dan John went his way, And bade the meinie* “Farewell; have good day.” *servants For none of them, nor no wight in the town, Had of Dan John right no suspicioun;
And forth he rode home to his abbay, Or where him list; no more of him I say.

The merchant, when that ended was the fair, To Saint Denis he gan for to repair,
And with his wife he made feast and cheer, And tolde her that chaffare* was so dear, *merchandise That needes must he make a chevisance;* *loan <11> For he was bound in a recognisance
To paye twenty thousand shields* anon. *crowns, ecus For which this merchant is to Paris gone, To borrow of certain friendes that he had A certain francs, and some with him he lad.* *took And when that he was come into the town, For great cherte* and great affectioun *love Unto Dan John he wente first to play;
Not for to borrow of him no money,
Bat for to weet* and see of his welfare, *know And for to telle him of his chaffare,
As friendes do, when they be met in fere.* *company Dan John him made feast and merry cheer; And he him told again full specially,
How he had well y-bought and graciously (Thanked be God) all whole his merchandise; Save that he must, in alle manner wise,
Maken a chevisance, as for his best; And then he shoulde be in joy and rest.
Dan John answered, “Certes, I am fain* *glad That ye in health be come borne again:
And if that I were rich, as have I bliss, Of twenty thousand shields should ye not miss, For ye so kindely the other day
Lente me gold, and as I can and may I thanke you, by God and by Saint Jame.
But natheless I took unto our Dame, Your wife at home, the same gold again,
Upon your bench; she wot it well, certain, By certain tokens that I can her tell
Now, by your leave, I may no longer dwell; Our abbot will out of this town anon,
And in his company I muste gon.
Greet well our Dame, mine owen niece sweet, And farewell, deare cousin, till we meet.

This merchant, which that was full ware and wise, *Creanced hath,* and paid eke in Paris *had obtained credit* To certain Lombards ready in their hond
The sum of gold, and got of them his bond, And home he went, merry as a popinjay.* *parrot For well he knew he stood in such array
That needes must he win in that voyage A thousand francs, above all his costage.* *expenses His wife full ready met him at the gate, As she was wont of old usage algate* *always And all that night in mirthe they beset;* *spent For he was rich, and clearly out of debt. When it was day, the merchant gan embrace His wife all new, and kiss’d her in her face, And up he went, and maked it full tough.

“No more,” quoth she, “by God ye have enough;” And wantonly again with him she play’d,
Till at the last this merchant to her said. “By God,” quoth he, “I am a little wroth With you, my wife, although it be me loth; And wot ye why? by God, as that I guess, That ye have made a *manner strangeness* *a kind of estrangement* Betwixte me and my cousin, Dan John.
Ye should have warned me, ere I had gone, That he you had a hundred frankes paid
By ready token; he *had him evil apaid* *was displeased* For that I to him spake of chevisance,* *borrowing (He seemed so as by his countenance);
But natheless, by God of heaven king, I thoughte not to ask of him no thing.
I pray thee, wife, do thou no more so. Tell me alway, ere that I from thee go,
If any debtor hath in mine absence
Y-payed thee, lest through thy negligence I might him ask a thing that he hath paid.”

This wife was not afeared nor afraid, But boldely she said, and that anon;
“Mary! I defy that false monk Dan John, I keep* not of his tokens never a deal:** *care **whit He took me certain gold, I wot it well. — What? evil thedom* on his monke’s snout! — *thriving For, God it wot, I ween’d withoute doubt That he had given it me, because of you, To do therewith mine honour and my prow,* *profit For cousinage, and eke for belle cheer
That he hath had full often here.
But since I see I stand in such disjoint,* *awkward position I will answer you shortly to the point.
Ye have more slacke debtors than am I; For I will pay you well and readily,
From day to day, and if so be I fail, I am your wife, score it upon my tail,
And I shall pay as soon as ever I may. For, by my troth, I have on mine array,
And not in waste, bestow’d it every deal. And, for I have bestowed it so well,
For your honour, for Godde’s sake I say, As be not wroth, but let us laugh and play. Ye shall my jolly body have *to wed;* *in pledge* By God, I will not pay you but in bed;
Forgive it me, mine owen spouse dear; Turn hitherward, and make better cheer.”

The merchant saw none other remedy;
And for to chide, it were but a folly, Since that the thing might not amended be. “Now, wife,” he said, “and I forgive it thee; But by thy life be no more so large;* *liberal, lavish Keep better my good, this give I thee in charge.” Thus endeth now my tale; and God us send Taling enough, until our lives’ end!

Notes to the Shipman’s Tale

1. In this Tale Chaucer seems to have followed an old French story, which also formed the groundwork of the first story in the eighth day of the “Decameron.”

2. “He must us clothe”: So in all the manuscripts and from this and the following lines, it must be inferred that Chaucer had intended to put the Tale in the mouth of a female speaker.

3. Dan: a title bestowed on priests and scholars; from “Dominus,” like the Spanish “Don”.

4. Bruges was in Chaucer’s time the great emporium of European commerce.

5. The monk had been appointed by his abbot to inspect and manage the rural property of the monastery.

6. Malvesie or Malmesy wine derived its name from Malvasia, a region of the Morea near Cape Malea, where it was made, as it also was on Chios and some other Greek islands. Vernage was “vernaccia”, a sweet Italian wine.

7. Contour-house: counting-house; French, “comptoir.”

8. Under the yarde: under the rod; in pupillage; a phrase properly used of children, but employed by the Clerk in the prologue to his tale. See note 1 to the Prologue to the Clerk’s Tale.

9. Genelon, Ganelon, or Ganilion; one of Charlemagne’s officers, whose treachery was the cause of the disastrous defeat of the Christians by the Saracens at Roncevalles; he was torn to pieces by four horses.

10. Elenge: From French, “eloigner,” to remove; it may mean either the lonely, cheerless condition of the priest, or the strange behaviour of the merchant in leaving him to himself.

11. Make a chevisance: raise money by means of a borrowing agreement; from French, “achever,” to finish; the general meaning of the word is a bargain, an agreement.

THE PRIORESS’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

“WELL said, by *corpus Domini,”* quoth our Host; *the Lord’s body* “Now longe may’st thou saile by the coast, Thou gentle Master, gentle Marinere.
God give the monk *a thousand last quad year!* *ever so much evil* <1> Aha! fellows, beware of such a jape.* *trick The monk *put in the manne’s hood an ape,* *fooled him* And in his wife’s eke, by Saint Austin.
Drawe no monkes more into your inn. But now pass over, and let us seek about, Who shall now telle first of all this rout Another tale;” and with that word he said, As courteously as it had been a maid;
“My Lady Prioresse, by your leave,
So that I wist I shoulde you not grieve,* *offend I woulde deeme* that ye telle should *judge, decide A tale next, if so were that ye would.
Now will ye vouchesafe, my lady dear?” “Gladly,” quoth she; and said as ye shall hear.

Notes to the Prologue to the Prioress’s Tale.

1. A thousand last quad year: ever so much evil. “Last” means a load, “quad,” bad; and literally we may read “a thousand weight of bad years.” The Italians use “mal anno” in the same sense.

THE TALE. <1>

O Lord our Lord! thy name how marvellous Is in this large world y-spread! <2> (quoth she) For not only thy laude* precious *praise Performed is by men of high degree,
But by the mouth of children thy bounte* *goodness Performed is, for on the breast sucking
Sometimes showe they thy herying.* <3> *glory

Wherefore in laud, as I best can or may Of thee, and of the white lily flow’r
Which that thee bare, and is a maid alway, To tell a story I will do my labour;
Not that I may increase her honour, For she herselven is honour and root
Of bounte, next her son, and soules’ boot.* *help

O mother maid, O maid and mother free!* *bounteous O bush unburnt, burning in Moses’ sight, That ravished’st down from the deity,
Through thy humbless, the ghost that in thee light; <4> Of whose virtue, when he thine hearte light,* *lightened, gladdened Conceived was the Father’s sapience;
Help me to tell it to thy reverence.

Lady! thy bounty, thy magnificence,
Thy virtue, and thy great humility, There may no tongue express in no science: For sometimes, Lady! ere men pray to thee, Thou go’st before, of thy benignity,
And gettest us the light, through thy prayere, To guiden us unto thy son so dear.

My conning* is so weak, O blissful queen, *skill, ability For to declare thy great worthiness,
That I not may the weight of it sustene; But as a child of twelvemonth old, or less, That can unnethes* any word express, *scarcely Right so fare I; and therefore, I you pray, Guide my song that I shall of you say.

There was in Asia, in a great city,
Amonges Christian folk, a Jewery,<5> Sustained by a lord of that country,
For foul usure, and lucre of villainy, Hateful to Christ, and to his company;
And through the street men mighte ride and wend,* *go, walk For it was free, and open at each end.

A little school of Christian folk there stood Down at the farther end, in which there were Children an heap y-come of Christian blood, That learned in that schoole year by year Such manner doctrine as men used there;
This is to say, to singen and to read, As smalle children do in their childhead.

Among these children was a widow’s son, A little clergion,* seven year of age, *young clerk or scholar That day by day to scholay* was his won,** *study **wont And eke also, whereso he saw th’ image
Of Christe’s mother, had he in usage, As him was taught, to kneel adown, and say Ave Maria as he went by the way.

Thus had this widow her little son y-taught Our blissful Lady, Christe’s mother dear, To worship aye, and he forgot it not;
For sely* child will always soone lear.** *innocent **learn But aye when I remember on this mattere, Saint Nicholas <6> stands ever in my presence; For he so young to Christ did reverence.

This little child his little book learning, As he sat in the school at his primere,
He Alma redemptoris <7> hearde sing, As children learned their antiphonere; <8> And as he durst, he drew him nere and nere,* *nearer And hearken’d aye the wordes and the note, Till he the firste verse knew all by rote.

Nought wist he what this Latin was tosay,* *meant For he so young and tender was of age;
But on a day his fellow gan he pray To expound him this song in his language, Or tell him why this song was in usage:
This pray’d he him to construe and declare, Full oftentime upon his knees bare.

His fellow, which that elder was than he, Answer’d him thus: “This song, I have heard say, Was maked of our blissful Lady free,
Her to salute, and eke her to pray
To be our help and succour when we dey.* *die I can no more expound in this mattere:
I learne song, I know but small grammere.”

“And is this song y-made in reverence Of Christe’s mother?” said this innocent; Now certes I will do my diligence
To conne* it all, ere Christemas be went; *learn; con Though that I for my primer shall be shent,* *disgraced And shall be beaten thries in an hour,
I will it conne, our Lady to honour.”

His fellow taught him homeward* privily *on the way home From day to day, till he coud* it by rote, *knew And then he sang it well and boldely
From word to word according with the note; Twice in a day it passed through his throat; To schoole-ward, and homeward when he went; On Christ’s mother was set all his intent.

As I have said, throughout the Jewery, This little child, as he came to and fro, Full merrily then would he sing and cry, O Alma redemptoris, evermo’;
The sweetness hath his hearte pierced so Of Christe’s mother, that to her to pray He cannot stint* of singing by the way. *cease

Our firste foe, the serpent Satanas,
That hath in Jewes’ heart his waspe’s nest, Upswell’d and said, “O Hebrew people, alas! Is this to you a thing that is honest,* *creditable, becoming That such a boy shall walken as him lest In your despite, and sing of such sentence, Which is against your lawe’s reverence?”

From thenceforth the Jewes have conspired This innocent out of the world to chase; A homicide thereto have they hired,
That in an alley had a privy place, And, as the child gan forth by for to pace, This cursed Jew him hent,* and held him fast *seized And cut his throat, and in a pit him cast.

I say that in a wardrobe* he him threw, *privy Where as the Jewes purged their entrail. O cursed folk! O Herodes all new!
What may your evil intente you avail? Murder will out, certain it will not fail, And namely* where th’ honour of God shall spread; *especially The blood out crieth on your cursed deed.

O martyr souded* to virginity, *confirmed <9> Now may’st thou sing, and follow ever-in-one* *continually The white Lamb celestial (quoth she),
Of which the great Evangelist Saint John In Patmos wrote, which saith that they that gon Before this Lamb, and sing a song all new, That never fleshly woman they ne knew.<10>

This poore widow waited all that night After her little child, but he came not; For which, as soon as it was daye’s light,