And alderfirst he bad hem alle a bone,
That noon of hem none argumentes make
Agayn the purpos which that he hath take;
“Which purpos was plesant to god,” seyde he,
“And verray ground of his prosperitee.”
He seyde, ther was a mayden in the toun,
Which that of beautee hadde greet renoun,
Al were it so she were of smal degree;
Suffyseth him hir youthe and hir beautee.
Which mayde, he seyde, he wolde han to his wyf,
To lede in ese and holinesse his lyf.
And thanked god, that he mighte han hire al,
That no wight of his blisse parten shal.
And preyde hem to labouren in this nede,
And shapen that he faille nat to spede;
But nevertheless, between earnest and play,
He at last settled his heart on one,
And let all others from his heart go,
And chose her on his own;
For love is blind always, and cannot see.
And when he had gone to bed,
He portrayed in his heart and in his thought
Her fresh beauty and her age tender,
Her middle small, her arms long and slender,
Her discretion, her gentility,
Her womanly bearing, and her seriousness.
And when he on her was decided,
He thought his choice might not be amended.
For when he himself had concluded,
He thought each other man’s wit so bad
That impossible it were to reply
Against his choice; this was his fantasy.
His friends he sent to, at his request,
And prayed them to do him the pleasure
That hastily they would to him come;
He would shorten their labor, all and some.
Needed no more for him to go or ride;
He was decided where he would abide.
Placebo came, and his friends soon,
And first of all he asked of them a favor,
That none of them should arguments make
Against the decision that he had taken,
Which decision was pleasing to God, said he,
And of his welfare the true foundation.
He said there was a maiden in the town,
Who for her beauty had great renown,
Albeit she was of small degree;
Sufficed him her youth and her beauty.
Which maid, he said, he would have for his wife,
To lead in ease and holiness his life;
And thanked God that he might have her all,
That no person his bliss should share.
And prayed them to labor in this need,
And arrange that toward it he would speed;
For thanne, he seyde, his spirit was at ese.
“Thanne is,” quod he, “no-thing may me displese,
Save o thing priketh in my conscience,
The which I wol reherce in your presence.
I have,” quod he, ”herd seyd, ful yore ago,
Ther may no man han parfite blisses two,
This is to seye, in erthe and eek in hevene.
For though he kepe him fro the sinnes sevene,
And eek from every branche of thilke tree,
Yet is ther so parfit felicitee,
And so greet ese and lust in mariage,
That ever I am agast, now in myn age,
That I shal lede now so mery a lyf,
So delicat, with-outen wo and stryf,
That I shal have myn hevene in erthe here.
For sith that verray hevene is boght so dere,
With tribulacioun and greet penaunce,
How sholde I thanne, that live in swich plesaunce
As alle wedded men don with hir wyvis,
Come to the blisse ther Crist eterne on lyve is?
This is my drede, and ye, my bretheren tweye,
Assoilleth me this questioun, I preye.”
Justinus, which that hated his folye,
Answerde anon, right in his japerye;
And for he wolde his longe tale abregge,
He wolde noon auctoritee allegge,
But seyde, “sire, so ther be noon obstacle
Other than this, god of his hye miracle
And of his mercy may so for yow wirche,
That, er ye have your right of holy chirche,
Ye may repente of wedded mannes lyf,
In which ye seyn ther is no wo ne stryf.
And elles, god forbede but he sente
A wedded man him grace to repente
Wel ofte rather than a sengle man!
And therfore, sire, the beste reed I can,
Dispeire yow noght, but have in your memorie,
Paraunter she may be your purgatorie!
She may be goddes mene, and goddes whippe;
For then, he said, his spirit was at ease.
”There is,” said he, ”nothing that may me displease,
Save one thing pricks in my conscience,
Which I will rehearse in your presence.
“I have,” said he, “heard said, full long ago,
That no man may have perfect blisses two—
That is to say, on earth and also in heaven.
For though he keeps himself from the sins seven,
And also from every branch of that tree,
Yet is there perfect felicity
And so great ease and pleasure in marriage
That ever I am afraid now in my age
That I shall lead now so merry a life,
So delicious, without woe and strife,
That I shall have my heaven on earth here.
For since that true heaven is bought so dear
With tribulation and great penance,
How should I then, who lives in such pleasure
As wedded men do with their wives,
Come to the bliss where with Christ eternal life is?
This is my dread, and you, my brethren two,
Resolve for me this question, I pray you.”
Justinus, who hated his folly,
Answered anon right in mockery;
And in order to his long tale abridge,
He would no authority allege,
But said, “Sire, may there be no obstacle
Other than this, God of his high miracle
And of his mercy may so for you work
That, before your last rites of holy church,
You may repent of the wedded man’s life,
In which you say there is no woe or strife.
Or to say it another way: God forbid but that he sends
A wedded man his grace to repent
More often than a single man!
And therefore, sire—the best I know—
Despair you not, but have in your memory,
Peradventure she may be your purgatory!
She may be God’s instrument and God’s whip;
Than shal your soule up to hevene skippe
Swifter than dooth an arwe out of the bowe!
I hope to god, her-after shul ye knowe,
That their nis no so greet felicitee
In mariage, ne never-mo shal be,
That yow shal lette of your savacioun,
So that ye use, as skile is and resoun,
The lustes of your wyf attemprely,
And that ye plese hir nat to amorously,
And that ye kepe yow eek from other sinne.
My tale is doon:—for my wit is thinne.
Beth nat agast her-of, my brother dere.”—
(But lat us waden out of this matere.
The Wyf of Bathe, if ye han understonde,
Of mariage, which we have on honde,
Declared hath ful wel in litel space).—
“Fareth now wel, god have yow in his grace.”
And with this word this Justin and his brother
Han take hir
leve, and ech of hem of other.
For whan they sawe it moste nedes be,
They wroghten so, by sly and wys tretee,
That she, this mayden, which that Maius highte,
As hastily as ever that she mighte,
Shal wedded be un-to this Januarie.
I trowe it were to longe yow to tarie,
If I yow tolde of every scrit and bond,
By which that she was feffed in his lond;
Or for to herknen of hir riche array.
But finally y-comen is the day
That to the chirche bothe be they went
For to receyve the holy sacrement.
Forth comth the preest, with stole aboute his nekke,
And bad hir be lyk Sarra and Rebekke,
In wisdom and in trouthe of mariage;
And seyde his orisons, as is usage,
And crouched hem, and bad god sholde hem blesse,
And made al siker-y-nogh with holinesse.
Thus been they wedded with solempnitee,
And at the feste sitteth he and she
Then shall your soul up to heaven skip
Swifter than does an arrow from a bow.
I hope to God, hereafter shall you know
That there is never so great felicity
In marriage, nor ever more shall be,
That shall keep you from your salvation,
So that you use, as proper is and reason,
The pleasures of your wife temperately,
And that you please her not too amorously,
And that you keep you also from other sin.
My tale is done, for my wit is thin.
Be not afraid, my brother dear,
But let us wade out of this matter.
The Wife of Bath, if you have understood,10
Of marriage, which we have on hand,
Declared full well in little space.
Farewell now. God have you in his grace.”
And with this word Justin and his brother
Have taken their leave, and each of them the other.
For when they saw that it must needs be,
They wrought so, by clever and prudent negotiation,
That she, this maid who May was called,
As hastily as ever that she might
Shall wedded be unto this January.
I believe it would too long you to tarry,
If I you told of every document and bond
By which she was endowed with his land,
Or for to hear of her rich raiment.
But finally come was the day
That to the church they both went
To receive the holy sacrament.
Forth came the priest, with stole about his neck,
And bade her be like Sarah and Rebecca11
In prudence and devotion in marriage;
And said his orisons, as is customary,
And crossed them, and bade God should them bless,
And made all secure enough with holiness.
Thus were they wedded with solemnity,
And at the feast sat he and she
With other worthy folk up-on the deys.
Al ful of joye and blisse is the paleys,
And ful of instruments and of vitaille,
The moste deyntevous of al Itaille.
Biforn hem stoode swiche instruments of soun,
That Orpheus, ne of Thebes Amphioun,
Ne maden never swich a melodye.
At every cours than cam loud minstraleye,
That never tromped Joab, for to here,
Nor he, Theodomas, yet half so clere,
At Thebes, whan the citee was in doute.
Bacus the wyn hem skinketh al aboute,
And Venus laugheth up-on every wight.
For Januarie was bicome hir knight,
And wolde bothe assayen his corage
In libertee, and eek in mariage;
And with hir fyrbrond in hir hand aboute
Daunceth biforn the bryde and al the route.
And certeinly, I dar right wel seyn this,
Ymenëus, that god of wedding is,
Saugh never his lyf so mery a wedded man.
Hold thou thy pees, thou poete Marcian,
That wrytest us that ilke wedding murie
Of hir, Philologye, and him, Mercurie,
And of the songes that the Muses songe.
To smal is bothe thy penne, and eek thy tonge,
For to descryven of this mariage.
Whan tendre youthe hath wedded stouping age,
Ther is swich mirthe that it may nat be writen;
Assayeth it your-self, than may ye witen
If that I lye or noon in this matere.
Maius, that sit with so benigne a chere,
Hir to biholde it seemed fayëryë;
Quene Ester loked never with swich an ye
On Assauer, so meke a look hath she.
I may yow nat devyse al hir beautee;
But thus muche of hir beautee telle I may,
That she was lyk the brighte morwe of May,
Fulfild of alle beautee and plesaunce.
With other worthy folk upon the dais.
All full of joy and bliss was the palace,
And full of music and victuals,
The most delicious of all Italy.
Before them stood instruments of such sound
That neither Orpheus, nor Amphioun,
Ever made such a melody.
With every course there came loud minstrelsy
That trumpeted such as joab never heard,
Nor did Theodamas,12 even half so clear
At Thebes when its fate was in doubt.
Bacchus the wine poured all about,
And Venus smiled upon every person,
For January had become her knight
And would both try his courage
In liberty, and also in marriage;
And with her torch in her hand about
Danced before the bride and all the crowd.
And certainly, I dare right well say this,
Hymen, who god of wedding is,
Saw never in his life so merry a wedded man.
Hold you your peace, you poet Martianus,13
Who writes of such a wedding merry
Of Philology and Mercury,
And of the songs the Muses sang!
Too small are both your pen, and your tongue,
For to describe this marriage.
When tender youth has married stooping age,
There is such mirth that it may not be written.
Try it yourself; then may you know
If I lie or not in this matter.
May, who sat with a look so gracious,
It seemed enchantment to behold her face.
Queen Esther14 never looked with such an eye
On Ahasuerus, so meek a look as had she.
I may you not describe all her beauty.
But this much of her beauty I may tell,
That she was like the bright morning of May,
Filled with beauty and delight.
This Januarie is ravisshed in a traunce
At every time he loked on hir face;
But in his herte he gan hir to manace,
That he that night in armes wolde hir streyne
Harder than ever Paris dide Eleyne.
But nathelees, yet hadde he greet pitee,
That thilke night offenden hir moste he;
And thoughte, “allas! o tendre creature!
Now wolde god ye mighte wel endure
Al my corage, it is so sharp and kene;
I am agast ye shul it nat sustene.
But god forbede that I dide al my might!
Now wolde god that it were woxen night,
And that the night wolde lasten evermo.
I wolde that al this peple were ago.”
And finally, he doth al his labour,
As he best mighte, savinge his honour,
To haste hem fro the mete in subtil wyse.
The tyme cam that reson was to ryse;
And after that, men daunce and drinken faste,
And spyces al aboute the hous they caste;
And ful of joye and blisse is every man;
All but a squyer, highte Damian,
Which carf biforn the knight ful many a day.
He was so ravisshed on his lady May,
That for the verray peyne he was ny wood;
Almost he swelte and swowned ther he stood.
So sore hath Venus hurt him with hir brond,
As that she bar it daunsinge in hir hond.
And to his bed he wente him hastily;
Na-more of him as at this tyme speke I.
But ther I lete him wepe y-nough and pleyne,
Til fresshe May wol rewen on his peyne.
O perilous fyr, that in the bedstraw bredeth!
O famulier foo, that his servyce bedeth!
O servant traitour, false hoomly hewe,
Lyk to the naddre in bosom sly untrewe,
God shilde us alle from your aqueyntaunce!
O Januarie, dronken in plesaunce
This January was ravished in a trance
Every time he looked on her face;
But in his heart he began her to menace
That he that night in his arms would her press
Harder than ever Helen was by Paris.
Yet nevertheless had he great pity
That that night injure her must he,
And thought, “Alas! O tender creature,
Now would to God you might endure
All my ardor, it is so sharp and keen!
I am afraid that you shall it not sustain.
But God forbid that I use all my might!
Now would to God that it were night,
And that the night would last for evermore.
I wish that all these people were gone.”
And finally he did all he could
As best he could, as etiquette permitted,
To hasten them from the meal in subtle ways.
The time came when it was right to rise;
And after that men danced and drank,
And spices all about the house they cast,
And full of joy and bliss was every man—
All but a squire, called Damian,
Who carved before the knight full many a day.
He was so ravished by his lady May
That for the pain of love he was almost mad.
He almost fainted and swooned where he stood,
So sore had Venus hurt him with her torch,
As she bore it dancing in her hand;
And he went hastily to his bed.
No more of him at this time speak I,
But there I let him weep enough and complain
Till fresh May will take pity on his pain.
Oh perilous fire, that in the bedstraw smolders!
Oh home-breaker, who his service offers!
Oh traitorous, domestic false,
Like to the adder in the bosom untrue,
Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) Page 46
