31 Canterbury Tales: The Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale

Opening page of The Wife of Bath’s Prologue Tale, from the Ellesmere manuscript of Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. Wikimedia Commons.

Introduction

by Denise Williams 

 

The “Wife of Bath’s Prologue and Tale”  was written at a time when the social structure of England was evolving, allowing for a merchant class to emerge of which the Wife of Bath is a prime example. The story provides insight on women’s roles in the Late Middle Ages when they could occupy only three stations in society: maiden, widow or wife. The Wife of Bath is unique in this context: as a childless widow, she has inherited her husbands’ wealth (as property was passed down to sons even if their mothers were still alive) which allows for more autonomy than other women of the time. The character in this story was one of Chaucer’s most developed with the prologue almost twice as long as the actual tale itself; it is remembered as one of the best-known in the collection. She calls herself “Alys” and “Alyson” though this is also the name of a friend she references and various other characters throughout the Tales which causes confusion for students and scholars alike.

 

Prologue

In the Prologue, we learn some important information about the Wife of Bath, namely that she has been married five times and therefore will be speaking about “wo that is in mariage.” She quickly recounts her first three marriages, to older men, starting at age 12. Her fourth marriage was to a philanderer who she repaid by making him believe she, too, had been unfaithful. The fifth marriage is to a younger man, Jankyn, who is physically abusive (his beatings leave her deaf in one ear) and an unrepentant misogynist; they get into a heated argument when she tears some pages from his copy of the “Book of Wikked Wyves” though, after this, he concedes his power to her in the relationship. She is then interrupted by the Friar who complains of the “long preamble” she has provided. As a widow five times over, she would have been seen as a “loathly lady”–a woman who remarries in order to satisfy her sexual desires (something the Church equated with bigamy at the time). But the Wife of Bath knows the stories of many holy men who have had multiple wives and her adept appeal to the Scriptures puts her in direct conflict with the teachings of clerics. In her opinion, her history of multiple marriages has made her an expert on marital relations, and certainly more so than celibate, male clergy. The Wife of Bath argues, above all,  that women are morally identical to men which contradicts the prevailing double standard of her era.

 

Summary of the Tale

The tale starts off with this Knight who has raped a young woman and for some reason the Queen wants to give him a chance to redeem himself. King Arthur wants to kill the Knight but then decides to leave this punishment in the Queen’s hand. The Queen gives the Knight twelve months and one day to bring back the answer to the question “what do women most desire?”  If the knight can’t find the answer to the question then he will be killed. He sets out on a long journey to find the answer to the Queen’s question. He asks many women and many an answer he receives; none of which have set well with the knight. The last has come to find what he is in search of and he still is bewildered. He comes upon this old, ugly lady who tells him that she has what he is searching for and he will pay for her wisdom. She gives him the answer to the question and shares it with the Queen. She is pleased and releases him so his life is spared. The old lady wants the handsome knight to marry her and he gave his word that he would do whatever she asked of him. They marry and the knight is miserable and treats her terribly. On their wedding night, the old woman is upset that he is repulsed by her in bed. She reminds him that her looks can be an asset—she will be a virtuous wife to him because no other men would desire her. She asks him which one he would prefer—a wife who is true and loyal or a beautiful young woman, who may not be faithful. The Knight responds by saying that the choice is hers. Knowing that she has the ultimate power now, him giving her full control, she promises beauty and fidelity. The Knight turns to look at the old woman again, but now finds a young and lovely woman. The old woman makes “what women want most” and the answer that she gave true to him, sovereignty (“Wife of Bath’s Tale”).

Works Cited

“Wife of Bath’s Tale.” Wikipedia, 12 Apr 2020. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wife_of_Bath%27s_Tale Accessed 13 Sept. 2020.

Discussion Questions

  1. What “class” does the Wife of Bath belong to? How do you know?
  2. Is this character a proto-feminist? Or is Chaucer writing an inherently anti-feminist text here?
  3. She has many counter-arguments to the prevailing ideas about women of her day (usually introduced with the phrase “Thou sayest”). What arguments are these? What evidence does she provide?
  4. There are very few women in Canterbury Tales; how does Wife of Bath compare to the other “major” female storyteller (The Prioress)?
  5. How does the Tale she tells relate to the information in her Prologue?
  6. Who holds power in “The Wife of Bath’s Tale”? Do those who have power use it correctly?

Further Resources

  • An essay chapter from the Open Access Companion to the Canterbury Tales on “Love and Marriage in the Wife of Bath’s Prologue”
  • A video of David Wallace, author of Geoffrey Chaucer, discussing Wife of Bath
  • An animated video of the “Wife of Bath’s Tale.”

Reading: The Wife of Bath’s Prologue

 

       “Experience, though noon auctoritee
Were in this world, were right ynogh to me
To speke of wo that is in mariage;
For, lordynges, sith I twelf yeer was of age,
5 Thonked be God, that is eterne on lyve,
Housbondes at chirche dore I have had fyve –
For I so ofte have ywedded bee –
And alle were worthy men in hir degree.
But me was toold, certeyn, nat longe agoon is,
10 That sith that Crist ne wente nevere but onis
To weddyng in the Cane of Galilee,
That by the same ensample, taughte he me,
That I ne sholde wedded be but ones.
Herkne eek, lo, which a sharpe word for the nones,
15 Biside a welle Jhesus, God and Man,
Spak in repreeve of the Samaritan.
“Thou hast yhad fyve housbondes,” quod he,
“And thilke man the which that hath now thee
Is noght thyn housbonde;” thus seyde he certeyn.
20 What that he mente ther by, I kan nat seyn;
But that I axe, why that the fifthe man
Was noon housbonde to the Samaritan?
How manye myghte she have in mariage?
Yet herde I nevere tellen in myn age
25 Upon this nombre diffinicioun.
Men may devyne, and glosen up and doun,
But wel I woot, expres, withoute lye,
God bad us for to wexe and multiplye;
That gentil text kan I wel understonde.
30 Eek wel I woot, he seyde, myn housbonde
Sholde lete fader and mooder, and take to me;
But of no nombre mencioun made he,
Of bigamye, or of octogamye;
Why sholde men speke of it vileynye?
      “Experience, though no authority
Were in this world, were good enough for me,
To speak of woe that is in all marriage;
For, masters, since I was twelve years of age,
5 Thanks be to God who is forever alive,
Of husbands at church door have I had five;
For men so many times have married me;
And all were worthy men in their degree.
But someone told me not so long ago
10 That since Our Lord, save once, would never go
To wedding that at Cana in Galilee,
Thus, by this same example, showed he me
I never should have married more than once.
Lo and behold! What sharp words, for the nonce,
15 Beside a well Lord Jesus, God and man,
Spoke in reproving the Samaritan:
“For thou hast had five husbands,” thus said he,
“And he whom thou hast now to be with thee
Is not thine husband.” Thus he said that day,
20 But what he meant thereby I cannot say;
And I would ask now why that same fifth man
Was not husband to the Samaritan?
How many might she have, then, in marriage?
For I have never heard, in all my age,
25 Clear exposition of this number shown,
Though men may guess and argue up and down.
But well I know and say, and do not lie,
God bade us to increase and multiply;
That worthy text can I well understand.
30 And well I know he said, too, my husband
Should father leave, and mother, and cleave to me;
But no specific number mentioned He,
Whether of bigamy or octogamy;
Why should men speak of it reproachfully?

lines 35-82: The Wife of Bath’s opinion about marriage and virginity

35        Lo, heere the wise kyng, daun Salomon;
I trowe he hadde wyves mo than oon–
As, wolde God, it leveful were to me
To be refresshed half so ofte as he!
Which yifte of God hadde he, for alle hise wyvys!
40 No man hath swich that in this world alyve is.
God woot, this noble kyng, as to my wit,
The firste nyght had many a myrie fit
With ech of hem, so wel was hym on lyve!
Yblessed be God, that I have wedded fyve;
45 (Of whiche I have pyked out the beste,
Bothe of here nether purs and of here cheste.
Diverse scoles maken parfyt clerkes,
And diverse practyk in many sondry werkes
Maketh the werkman parfyt sekirly;
50 Of fyve husbondes scoleiyng am I.)
Welcome the sixte, whan that evere he shal.
For sothe I wol nat kepe me chaast in al.
Whan myn housbonde is fro the world ygon,
Som Cristen man shal wedde me anon.
55 For thanne th’apostle seith that I am free,
To wedde, a Goddes half, where it liketh me.
He seith, that to be wedded is no synne,
Bet is to be wedded than to brynne.
What rekketh me, thogh folk seye vileynye
60 Of shrewed Lameth and of bigamye?
I woot wel Abraham was an hooly man,
And Jacob eek, as ferforth as I kan,
And ech of hem hadde wyves mo than two,
And many another holy man also.
65 Whanne saugh ye evere in any manere age,
That hye God defended mariage
By expres word? I pray you, telleth me,
Or where comanded he virginitee?
I woot as wel as ye it is no drede,
70 Th’apostel, whan he speketh of maydenhede;
He seyde that precept therof hadde he noon.
Men may conseille a womman to been oon,
But conseillyng is no comandement;
He putte it in oure owene juggement.
75 For hadde God comanded maydenhede,
Thanne hadde he dampned weddyng with the dede;
And certein, if ther were no seed ysowe,
Virginitee, wherof thanne sholde it growe?
Poul dorste nat comanden, atte leeste,
80 A thyng of which his maister yaf noon heeste.
The dart is set up of virginitee;
Cacche who so may, who renneth best lat see.
35       Lo, there’s the wise old king Dan Solomon;
I understand he had more wives than one;
And now would God it were permitted me
To be refreshed one half as oft as he!
Which gift of God he had for all his wives!
40 No man has such that in this world now lives.
God knows, this noble king, it strikes my wit,
The first night he had many a merry fit
With each of them, so much he was alive!
Praise be to God that I have wedded five!
45 (Of whom I did pick out and choose the best
Both for their nether purse and for their chest
Different schools make divers perfect clerks,
Different methods learned in sundry works
Make the good workman perfect, certainly.
50 Of full five husbands tutoring am I.)
Welcome the sixth whenever come he shall.
Forsooth, I’ll not keep chaste for good and all;
When my good husband from the world is gone,
Some Christian man shall marry me anon;
55 For then, the apostle says that I am free
To wed, in God’s name, where it pleases me.
He says that to be wedded is no sin;
Better to marry than to burn within.
What care I though folk speak reproachfully
60 Of wicked Lamech and his bigamy?
I know well Abraham was holy man,
And Jacob, too, as far as know I can;
And each of them had spouses more than two;
And many another holy man also.
65 Or can you say that you have ever heard
That God has ever by His express word
Marriage forbidden? Pray you, now, tell me.
Or where commanded he virginity?
I read as well as you no doubt have read
70 The apostle when he speaks of maidenhead;
He said, commandment of the Lord he’d none.
Men may advise a woman to be one,
But such advice is not commandment, no;
He left the thing to our own judgment so.
75 For had Lord God commanded maidenhood,
He’d have condemned all marriage as not good;
And certainly, if there were no seed sown,
Virginity, where then should it be grown?
Paul dared not to forbid us, at the least,
80 A thing whereof his master’d no behest.
The dart is set up for virginity;
Catch it who can; who runs best let us see.

lines 83-100: About St. Paul’s virginity

       But this word is nat taken of every wight,
But ther as God lust gyve it of his myght.
85 I woot wel, th’apostel was a mayde;
But nathelees, thogh that he wroot and sayde
He wolde that every wight were swich as he,
Al nys but conseil to virginitee;
And for to been a wyf, he yaf me leve
90 Of indulgence, so it is no repreve
To wedde me, if that my make dye,
Withouten excepcioun of bigamye.
Al were it good no womman for to touche,
He mente, as in his bed or in his couche;
95 For peril is bothe fyr and tow t’assemble;
Ye knowe what this ensample may resemble.
This is al and som, he heeld virginitee
Moore parfit than weddyng in freletee.
Freletee clepe I, but if that he and she
100 Wolde leden al hir lyf in chastitee.
      But this word is not meant for every wight,
But where God wills to give it, of His might.
85 I know well that the apostle was a virgin;
Nevertheless, and though he wrote and urged in,
He would that everyone were such as he,
All is not counsel to virginity;
And so to be a wife he gave me leave
90 Out of permission; there’s no shame should grieve
In marrying me, if that my mate should die,
Without exception, too, of bigamy.
And though ’twere good no woman flesh to touch,
He meant, in his own bed or on his couch;
95 For peril ’tis fire and tow to assemble;
You know what this example may resemble.
This is the sum: he held virginity
Nearer perfection than marriage for frailty.
And frailty’s all, I say, save he and she
100 Would lead their lives throughout in chastity.

 

lines 101-120: About virginity in general

       I graunte it wel, I have noon envie,
Thogh maydenhede preferre bigamye;
Hem liketh to be clene, body and goost.
Of myn estaat I nyl nat make no boost,
105 For wel ye knowe, a lord in his houshold,
He nath nat every vessel al of gold;
Somme been of tree, and doon hir lord servyse.
God clepeth folk to hym in sondry wyse,
And everich hath of God a propre yifte –
110 Som this, som that, as hym liketh shifte.
       Virginitee is greet perfeccioun,
And continence eek with devocioun.
But Crist, that of perfeccioun is welle,
Bad nat every wight he sholde go selle
115 Al that he hadde, and gyve it to the poore,
And in swich wise folwe hym and his foore.
He spak to hem that wolde lyve parfitly,
And lordynges, by youre leve, that am nat I.
I wol bistowe the flour of myn age
120 In the actes and in fruyt of mariage.
      I grant this well, I have no great envy
Though maidenhood’s preferred to bigamy;
Let those who will be clean, body and ghost,
Of my condition I will make no boast.
105 For well you know, a lord in his household,
He has not every vessel all of gold;
Some are of wood and serve well all their days.
God calls folk unto him in sundry ways,
And each one has from God a proper gift,
110 Some this, some that, as pleases him to shift.
       Virginity is great perfection known,
And continence also with devotion shown.
But Christ, who of perfection is the well,
Bade not each separate man he should go sell
115 All that he had and give it to the poor
And follow him in such wise going before.
He spoke to those that would live perfectly;
And, masters, by your leave, such am not I.
I will devote the flower of all my age
120 To all the acts and harvests of marriage.

 

lines 121-140: The purpose of the genitals

       Telle me also, to what conclusion
Were membres maad of generacion,
And of so parfit wys a wright ywroght?
Trusteth right wel, they were maad for noght.
125 Glose whoso wole, and seye bothe up and doun,
That they were maked for purgacioun
Of uryne, and oure bothe thynges smale
Were eek to knowe a femele from a male,
And for noon other cause, -say ye no?
130 The experience woot wel it is noght so.
So that the clerkes be nat with me wrothe,
I sey this: that they maked ben for bothe,
That is to seye, for office and for ese
Of engendrure, ther we nat God displese.
135 Why sholde men elles in hir bookes sette
That man shal yelde to his wyf hire dette?
Now wherwith sholde he make his paiement,
If he ne used his sely instrument?
Thanne were they maad upon a creature
140 To purge uryne, and eek for engendrure.
       Tell me also, to what purpose or end
The genitals were made, that I defend,
And for what benefit was man first wrought?
Trust you right well, they were not made for naught.
125 Explain who will and argue up and down
That they were made for passing out, as known,
Of urine, and our two belongings small
Were just to tell a female from a male,
And for no other cause – ah, say you no?
130 Experience knows well it is not so;
And, so the clerics be not with me wroth,
I say now that they have been made for both,
That is to say, for duty and for ease
In getting, when we do not God displease.
135 Why should men otherwise in their books set
That man shall pay unto his wife his debt?
Now wherewith should he ever make payment,
Except he used his blessed instrument?
Then on a creature were devised these things
140 For urination and engenderings.

 

lines 141-168: How a husband should pay his wife

       But I seye noght that every wight is holde,
That hath swich harneys as I to yow tolde,
To goon and usen hem in engendrure.
Thanne sholde men take of chastitee no cure.
145 Crist was a mayde, and shapen as a man,
And many a seint, sith that the world bigan;
Yet lyved that evere in parfit chastitee.
I nyl envye no virginitee.
Lat hem be breed of pured whete-seed,
150 And lat us wyves hoten barly-breed;
And yet with barly-breed, Mark telle kan,
Oure Lord Jhesu refresshed many a man.
In swich estaat as God hath cleped us
I wol persevere; I nam nat precius.
155 In wyfhod I wol use myn instrument
As frely as my Makere hath it sent.
If I be daungerous, God yeve me sorwe!
Myn housbonde shal it have bothe eve and morwe,
Whan that hym list come forth and paye his dette.
160 An housbonde I wol have, I wol nat lette,
Which shal be bothe my dettour and my thral,
And have his tribulacioun withal
Upon his flessh whil that I am his wyf.
I have the power durynge al my lyf
165 Upon his propre body, and noght he.
Right thus the Apostel tolde it unto me,
And bad oure housbondes for to love us weel.
Al this sentence me liketh every deel.”
      But I say not that every one is bound,
Who’s fitted out and furnished as I’ve found,
To go and use it to beget an heir;
Then men would have for chastity no care.
145 Christ was a maid, and yet shaped like a man,
And many a saint, since this old world began,
Yet has lived ever in perfect chastity.
I bear no malice to virginity;
Let such be bread of purest white wheat-seed,
150 And let us wives be called but barley bread;
And yet with barley bread, if Mark you scan
Jesus Our Lord refreshed full many a man.
In such condition as God places us
I’ll persevere, I’m not fastidious.
155 In wifehood I will use my instrument
As freely as my Maker has it sent.
If I be niggardly, God give me sorrow!
My husband he shall have it, eve and morrow,
When he’s pleased to come forth and pay his debt.
160 I’ll not delay, a husband I will get
Who shall be both my debtor and my thrall
And have his tribulations therewithal
Upon his flesh, the while I am his wife.
I have the power during all my life
165 Over his own good body, and not he.
For thus the apostle told it unto me;
And bade our husbands that they love us well.
And all this pleases me whereof I tell.”

lines 169-193: The Pardoner’s interruption

       Up stirte the Pardoner, and that anon;
170 “Now, dame,” quod he, “by God and by Seint John!
Ye been a noble prechour in this cas.
I was aboute to wedde a wyf; allas!
What sholde I bye it on my flessh so deere?
Yet hadde I levere wedde no wyf to-yeere!”
175        “Abyde,” quod she, “my tale in nat bigonne.
Nay, thou shalt drynken of another tonne,
Er that I go, shal savoure wors than ale.
And whan that I have toold thee forth my tale
Of tribulacioun in mariage,
180 Of which I am expert in al myn age,
This to seyn, myself have been the whippe, –
Than maystow chese wheither thou wolt sippe
Of thilke tonne that I shal abroche,
Be war of it, er thou to ny approche;
185 For I shal telle ensamples mo than ten.
Whoso that nyl be war by othere men,
By hym shul othere men corrected be.
The same wordes writeth Ptholomee;
Rede it in his Almageste, and take it there.”
190        “Dame, I wolde praye yow, if youre wyl it were,”
Seyde this Pardoner, “as ye bigan,
Telle forth youre tale, spareth for no man,
And teche us yonge men of your praktike.”
      Up rose the pardoner, and that anon.
170 “Now dame,” said he, “by God and by Saint John,
You are a noble preacher in this case!
I was about to wed a wife, alas!
Why should I buy this on my flesh so dear?
No, I would rather wed no wife this year.”
175        “But wait,” said she, “my tale is not begun;
Nay, you shall drink from out another tun
Before I cease, and savour worse than ale.
And when I shall have told you all my tale
Of tribulation that is in marriage,
180 Whereof I’ve been an expert all my age,
That is to say, myself have been the whip,
Then may you choose whether you will go sip
Out of that very tun which I shall broach.
Beware of it before you too near approach;
185 For I shall give examples more than ten.
Whoso will not be warned by other men
By him shall other men corrected be,
The self-same words has written Ptolemy;
Read in his Almagest and find it there.”
190       “Lady, I pray you, if your will it were,”
Spoke up this pardoner, “as you began,
Tell forth your tale, nor spare for any man,
And teach us younger men of your technique.”

lines 194-229: About the Wife of Bath’s five husbands

       “Gladly,” quod she, “sith it may yow like.
195 But yet I praye to al this compaignye,
If that I speke after my fantasye,
As taketh not agrief of that I seye,
For myn entente nis but for to pleye.”
Now, sire, now wol I telle forth my tale,
200 As evere moote I drynken wyn or ale,
I shal seye sooth, tho housbondes that I hadde,
As thre of hem were goode, and two were badde.
The thre men were goode, and riche, and olde;
Unnethe myghte they the statut holde
205 In which that they were bounden unto me-
Ye woot wel what I meene of this, pardee!
As help me God, I laughe whan I thynke
How pitously a-nyght I made hem swynke.
And, by my fey, I tolde of it no stoor,
210 They had me yeven hir gold and hir tresoor;
Me neded nat do lenger diligence
To wynne hir love, or doon hem reverence,
They loved me so wel, by God above,
That I ne tolde no deyntee of hir love.
215 A wys womman wol sette hire evere in oon
To gete hire love, ther as she hath noon.
But sith I hadde hem hoolly in myn hond,
And sith they hadde me yeven all hir lond,
What sholde I taken heede hem for to plese,
220 But it were for my profit and myn ese?
I sette hem so a-werke, by my fey,
That many a nyght they songen “weilawey!”
The bacon was nat fet for hem, I trowe,
That som men han in Essex at Dunmowe.
225 I governed hem so wel after my lawe,
That ech of hem ful blisful was, and fawe
To brynge me gaye thynges fro the fayre.
They were ful glad whan I spak to hem faire,
For, God it woot, I chidde hem spitously.
       “Gladly,” said she, “since it may please, not pique.
195 But yet I pray of all this company
That if I speak from my own phantasy,
They will not take amiss the things I say;
For my intention’s only but to play.
“Now, sirs, now will I tell you forth my tale.
200 And as I may drink ever wine and ale,
I will tell truth of husbands that I’ve had,
For three of them were good and two were bad.
The three were good men and were rich and old.
Not easily could they the promise hold
205 Whereby they had been bound to cherish me.
You know well what I mean by that, pardie!
So help me God, I laugh now when I think
How pitifully by night I made them swink;
And by my faith I set by it no store.
210 They’d given me their gold, and treasure more;
I needed not do longer diligence
To win their love, or show them reverence.
They all loved me so well, by God above,
I never did set value on their love!
215 A woman wise will strive continually
To get herself loved, when she’s not, you see.
But since I had them wholly in my hand,
And since to me they’d given all their land,
Why should I take heed, then, that I should please,
220 Save it were for my profit or my ease?
I set them so to work, that, by my fay,
Full many a night they sighed out ‘Welaway!’
The bacon was not brought them home, I trow,
That some men have in Essex at Dunmowe.
225 I governed them so well, by my own law,
That each of them was happy as a daw,
And fain to bring me fine things from the fair.
And they were right glad when I spoke them fair;
For God knows that I nagged them mercilessly.

lines 230-240: About the art of lying

230        Now herkneth hou I baar me proprely,
Ye wise wyves, that kan understonde.
Thus shul ye speke and bere hem wrong on honde;
For half so boldely kan ther no man
Swere and lyen, as a womman kan.
235 I sey nat this by wyves that been wyse,
But if it be whan they hem mysavyse.
A wys wyf, it that she kan hir good,
Shal beren hym on hond the cow is wood,
And take witnesse of hir owene mayde,
240 Of hir assent; but herkneth how I sayde.
230       Now hearken how I bore me properly,
All you wise wives that well can understand.
Thus shall you speak and wrongfully demand;
For half so brazenfacedly can no man
Swear to his lying as a woman can.
235 I say not this to wives who may be wise,
Except when they themselves do misadvise.
A wise wife, if she knows what’s for her good,
Will swear the crow is mad, and in this mood
Call up for witness to it her own maid;
240 But hear me now, for this is what I said.

 

lines 241-262: The Wife of Bath on how to lecture a husband

       “Sir olde kaynard, is this thyn array?
Why is my neighebores wyf so gay?
She is honoured overal ther she gooth;
I sitte at hoom, I have no thrifty clooth.
245 What dostow at my neighebores hous?
Is she so fair? Artow so amorous?
What rowne ye with oure mayde? Benedicite,
Sir olde lecchour, lat thy japes be!
And if I have a gossib or a freend
250 Withouten gilt, thou chidest as a feend
If that I walke or pleye unto his hous.
Thou comest hoom as dronken as a mous
And prechest on thy bench, with yvel preef!
Thou seist to me, it is a greet meschief
255 To wedde a povre womman, for costage,
And if she be riche and of heigh parage,
Thanne seistow it is a tormentrie
To soffre hire pride and hir malencolie.
And if she be fair, thou verray knave,
260 Thou seyst that every holour wol hir have;
She may no while in chastitee abyde
That is assailled upon ech a syde.
       “‘Sir Dotard, is it thus you stand today?
Why is my neighbour’s wife so fine and gay?
She’s honoured over all where’er she goes;
I sit at home, I have no decent clothes.
245 What do you do there at my neighbour’s house?
Is she so fair? Are you so amorous?
Why whisper to our maid? Benedicite!
Sir Lecher old, let your seductions be!
And if I have a gossip or a friend,
250 Innocently, you blame me like a fiend
If I but walk, for company, to his house!
You come home here as drunken as a mouse,
And preach there on your bench, a curse on you!
You tell me it’s a great misfortune, too,
255 To wed a girl who costs more than she’s worth;
And if she’s rich and of a higher birth,
You say it’s torment to abide her folly
And put up with her pride and melancholy.
And if she be right fair, you utter knave,
260 You say that every lecher will her have;
She may no while in chastity abide
That is assailed by all and on each side.

lines 263-290: A shrewe’s proverb

       Thou seyst, som folk desiren us for richesse,
Somme for oure shape, and somme for oure fairnesse,
265 And som for she kan outher synge or daunce,
And som for gentillesse and daliaunce,
Som for hir handes and hir armes smale;
Thus goth al to the devel by thy tale.
Thou seyst, men may nat kepe a castel wal,
270 It may so longe assailled been overal.
       And if that she be foul, thou seist that she
Coveiteth every man that she may se;
For as a spaynel she wol on hym lepe
Til that she fynde som man hir to chepe;
275 Ne noon so grey goos gooth ther in the lake
As, seistow, wol been withoute make;
And seyst, it is an hard thyng for to welde
A thyng that no man wole, his thankes, helde.
Thus seistow, lorel, whan thow goost to bedde,
280 And that no wys man nedeth for to wedde,
Ne no man that entendeth unto hevene –
With wilde thonder-dynt and firy levene
Moote thy welked nekke be tobroke!
       Thow seyst that droppyng houses, and eek smoke,
285 And chidyng wyves maken men to flee
Out of hir owene hous, a! benedicitee!
What eyleth swich an old man for to chide?
       Thow seyst, we wyves wol oure vices hide
Til we be fast, and thanne we wol hem shewe, –
290 Wel may that be a proverbe of a shrewe!
      You say, some men desire us for our gold,
Some for our shape and some for fairness told:
265 And some, that she can either sing or dance,
And some, for courtesy and dalliance;
Some for her hands and for her arms so small;
Thus all goes to the devil in your tale.
You say men cannot keep a castle wall
270 That’s long assailed on all sides, and by all.
       And if that she be foul, you say that she
Hankers for every man that she may see;
For like a spaniel will she leap on him
Until she finds a man to be victim;
275 And not a grey goose swims there in the lake
But finds a gander willing her to take.
You say, it is a hard thing to enfold
Her whom no man will in his own arms hold.
This say you, worthless, when you go to bed;
280 And that no wise man needs thus to be wed,
No, nor a man that hearkens unto heaven.
With furious thunder-claps and fiery levin
May your thin, withered, wrinkled neck be broke:
       You say that dripping eaves, and also smoke,
285 And wives contentious, will make men to flee
Out of their houses; ah, benedicite!
What ails such an old fellow so to chide?
       You say that all we wives our vices hide
Till we are married, then we show them well;
290 That is a scoundrel’s proverb, let me tell!

 

lines 291-308: A wife is no horse and cannot be tested

       Thou seist, that oxen, asses, hors, and houndes,
They been assayd at diverse stoundes;
Bacyns, lavours, er that men hem bye,
Spoones and stooles, and al swich housbondrye,
295 And so been pottes, clothes, and array;
But folk of wyves maken noon assay
Til they be wedded, olde dotard shrewe!
And thanne, seistow, we wol oure vices shewe.
       Thou seist also, that it displeseth me
300 But if that thou wolt preyse my beautee,
And but thou poure alwey upon my face,
And clepe me “faire dame” in every place,
And but thou make a feeste on thilke day
That I was born, and make me fressh and gay,
305 And but thou do to my norice honour,
And to my chamberere withinne my bour,
And to my fadres folk and hise allyes-
Thus seistow, olde barel-ful of lyes!
       You say that oxen, asses, horses, hounds
Are tried out variously, and on good grounds;
Basins and bowls, before men will them buy,
And spoons and stools and all such goods you try.
295 And so with pots and clothes and all array;
But of their wives men get no test, you say,
Till they are married, base old dotard you!
And then we show what evil we can do.
       You say also that it displeases me
300 Unless you praise and flatter my beauty,
And save you gaze always upon my face
And call me “lovely lady” every place;
And save you make a feast upon that day
When I was born, and give me garments gay;
305 And save due honour to my nurse is paid
As well as to my faithful chambermaid,
And to my father’s folk and his allies-
Thus you go on, old barrel full of lies!

lines 309-329: Envy and the power of gold

       And yet of oure apprentice Janekyn,
310 For his crispe heer, shynynge as gold so fyn,
And for he squiereth me bothe up and doun,
Yet hastow caught a fals suspecioun.
I wol hym noght, thogh thou were deed tomorwe!
But tel me this, why hydestow, with sorwe,
315 The keyes of my cheste awey fro me?
It is my good as wel as thyn, pardee;
What, wenestow make an ydiot of oure dame?
Now by that lord that called is Seint Jame,
Thou shalt nat bothe, thogh that thou were wood,
320 Be maister of my body and of my good;
That oon thou shalt forgo, maugree thyne eyen.
What nedeth thee of me to enquere or spyen?
I trowe thou woldest loke me in thy chiste.
Thou sholdest seye, “Wyf, go wher thee liste,
325 Taak youre disport, I wol not leve no talys,
I knowe yow for a trewe wyf, dame Alys.”
We love no man that taketh kepe or charge
Wher that we goon, we wol ben at our large.
      And yet of our apprentice, young Jenkin,
310 For his crisp hair, showing like gold so fine,
Because he squires me walking up and down,
A false suspicion in your mind is sown;
I’d give him naught, though you were dead tomorrow.
But tell me this, why do you hide, with sorrow,
315 The keys to your strong-box away from me?
It is my gold as well as yours, pardie.
Why would you make an idiot of your dame?
Now by Saint James, but you shall miss your aim,
You shall not be, although like mad you scold,
320 Master of both my body and my gold;
One you’ll forgo in spite of both your eyes;
Why need you seek me out or set on spies?
I think you’d like to lock me in your chest!
You should say: “Dear wife, go where you like best,
325 Amuse yourself, I will believe no tales;
You’re my wife Alis true, and truth prevails.”
We love no man that guards us or gives charge
Of where we go, for we will be at large.

lines 330-342: Sexual favour and the power of gold

       Of alle men yblessed moot he be,
330 The wise astrologien, Daun Ptholome,
That seith this proverbe in his Almageste:
`Of alle men his wysdom is the hyeste,
That rekketh nevere who hath the world in honde.’
By this proverbe thou shalt understonde,
335 Have thou ynogh, what thar thee recche or care
How myrily that othere folkes fare?
For certeyn, olde dotard, by youre leve,
Ye shul have queynte right ynogh at eve.
He is to greet a nygard, that wolde werne
340 A man to lighte his candle at his lanterne;
He shal have never the lasse light, pardee,
Have thou ynogh, thee thar nat pleyne thee.
       Of all men the most blessed may he be,
330 That wise astrologer, Dan Ptolemy,
Who says this proverb in his Almagest:
‘Of all men he’s in wisdom the highest
That nothing cares who has the world in hand.’
And by this proverb shall you understand:
335 Since you’ve enough, why do you reck or care
How merrily all other folks may fare?
For certainly, old dotard, by your leave,
You shall have cunt all right enough at eve.
He is too much a niggard who’s so tight
340 That from his lantern he’ll give none a light.
For he’ll have never the less light, by gad;
Since you’ve enough, you need not be so sad.

lines 343-353: The Wife of Bath rejects austerity and frugality

       Thou seyst also, that if we make us gay
With clothyng and with precious array,
345 That it is peril of oure chastitee:
And yet, with sorwe, thou most enforce thee,
And seye thise wordes in the Apostles name,
“In habit, maad with chastitee and shame,
Ye wommen shul apparaille yow,” quod he,
350 “And noght in tressed heer and gay perree,
As perles, ne with gold, ne clothes riche.”
After thy text, ne after thy rubriche
I wol nat wirche, as muchel as a gnat!
      You say, also, that if we make us gay
With clothing, all in costliest array,
345 That it’s a danger to our chastity;
And you must back the saying up, pardie!
Repeating these words in the apostle’s name:
“In habits meet for chastity, not shame,
Your women shall be garmented,” said he,
350 “And not with broidered hair, or jewellery,
Or pearls, or gold, or costly gowns and chic;”
After your text and after your rubric
I will not follow more than would a gnat.

lines 354-362: The Wife of Bath compared to a cat

       Thou seydest this, that I was lyk a cat;
355 For whoso wolde senge a cattes skyn,
Thanne wolde the cat wel dwellen in his in.
And if the cattes skyn be slyk and gay,
She wol nat dwelle in house half a day,
But forth she wole, er any day be dawed,
360 To shewe hir skyn, and goon a-caterwawed.
This is to seye, if I be gay, sire shrewe,
I wol renne out, my borel for to shewe.
       You said this, too, that I was like a cat;
355 For if one care to singe a cat’s furred skin,
Then would the cat remain the house within;
And if the cat’s coat be all sleek and gay,
She will not keep in house a half a day,
But out she’ll go, before dawn of any day,
360 To show her skin and caterwaul and play.
This is to say, if I’m a little gay,
To show my rags I’ll gad about all day.

 

lines 363-384: Bondage in the marriage band

       Sire olde fool, what eyleth thee to spyen,
Thogh thou preye Argus, with his hundred eyen,
365 To be my warde-cors, as he kan best,
In feith,he shal nat kepe me but me lest;
Yet koude I make his berd, so moot I thee.
       Thou seydest eek, that ther been thynges thre,
The whiche thynges troublen al this erthe,
370 And that no wight ne may endure the ferthe.
O leeve sire shrewe, Jesu shorte thy lyf!
Yet prechestow, and seyst an hateful wyf
Yrekened is for oon of thise meschances.
Been ther none othere maner resemblances
375 That ye may likne youre parables to,
But if a sely wyf be oon of tho?
       Thou likenest wommenes love to helle,
To bareyne lond, ther water may nat dwelle.
Thou liknest it also to wilde fyr;
380 The moore it brenneth, the moore it hath desir
To consume every thyng that brent wole be.
Thou seyest, right as wormes shende a tree,
Right so a wyf destroyeth hir housbond.
This knowe they, that been to wyves bonde.”
       Sir Ancient Fool, what ails you with your spies?
Though you pray Argus, with his hundred eyes,
365 To be my bodyguard and do his best,
Faith, he sha’n’t hold me, save I am modest;
I could delude him easily- trust me!
       You said, also, that there are three things- three-
The which things are a trouble on this earth,
370 And that no man may ever endure the fourth:
O dear Sir Rogue, may Christ cut short your life!
Yet do you preach and say a hateful wife
Is to be reckoned one of these mischances.
Are there no other kinds of resemblances
375 That you may liken thus your parables to,
But must a hapless wife be made to do?
       You liken woman’s love to very Hell,
To desert land where waters do not well.
You liken it, also, unto wildfire;
380 The more it burns, the more it has desire
To consume everything that burned may be.
You say that just as worms destroy a tree,
Just so a wife destroys her own husband;
Men know this who are bound in marriage band.”

 

lines 385-400: About cheating

385        Lordynges, right thus, as ye have understonde,
Baar I stifly myne olde housbondes on honde,
That thus they seyden in hir dronkenesse;
And al was fals, but that I took witnesse
On Janekyn and on my nece also.
390 O lord! The pyne I dide hem, and the wo
Ful giltelees, by Goddes sweete pyne!
For as an hors I koude byte and whyne,
I koude pleyne, thogh I were in the gilt,
Or elles often tyme hadde I been spilt.
395 Who so that first to mille comth first grynt;
I pleyned first, so was oure werre ystynt.
They were ful glad to excuse hem ful blyve
Of thyng of which they nevere agilte hir lyve.
Of wenches wolde I beren hym on honde,
400 Whan that for syk unnethes myghte he stonde,
385        Masters, like this, as you must understand,
Did I my old men charge and censure, and
Claim that they said these things in drunkenness;
And all was false, but yet I took witness
Of Jenkin and of my dear niece also.
390 O Lord, the pain I gave them and the woe,
All guiltless, too, by God’s grief exquisite!
For like a stallion could I neigh and bite.
I could complain, though mine was all the guilt,
Or else, full many a time, I’d lost the tilt.
395 Whoso comes first to mill first gets meal ground;
I whimpered first and so did them confound.
They were right glad to hasten to excuse
Things they had never done, save in my ruse.
With wenches would I charge him, by this hand,
400 When, for some illness, he could hardly stand.

 

lines 401-436: Envy, payment and …

       Yet tikled it his herte, for that he!
Wende that I hadde of hym so greet chiertee.
I swoor that al my walkynge out by nyghte
Was for t’espye wenches that he dighte.
405 Under that colour hadde I many a myrthe;
For al swich wit is yeven us in oure byrthe,
Deceite, wepyng, spynnyng, God hath yive
To wommen kyndely whil they may lyve.
And thus of o thyng I avaunte me,
410 Atte ende I hadde the bettre in ech degree,
By sleighte, or force, or by som maner thyng,
As by continueel murmur or grucchyng.
Namely a bedde hadden they meschaunce;
Ther wolde I chide and do hem no plesaunce,
415 I wolde no lenger in the bed abyde,
If that I felte his arm over my syde
Til he had maad his raunsoun unto me;
Thanne wolde I suffre hym do his nycetee.
And therfore every man this tale I telle,
420 Wynne who so may, for al is for to selle;
With empty hand men may none haukes lure.
For wynnyng wolde I al his lust endure
And make me a feyned appetit;
And yet in bacon hadde I nevere delit;
425 That made me that evere I wolde hem chide.
For thogh the pope hadde seten hem biside,
I wolde nat spare hem at hir owene bord,
For by my trouthe I quitte hem word for word.
As help me verray God omnipotent,
430 Though I right now sholde make my testament,
I ne owe hem nat a word, that it nys quit.
I broghte it so aboute by my wit,
That they moste yeve it up as for the beste,
Or elles hadde we nevere been in reste.
435 For thogh he looked as a wood leon,
Yet sholde he faille of his conclusioun.
      Yet tickled this the heart of him, for he
Deemed it was love produced such jealousy.
I swore that all my walking out at night
Was but to spy on girls he kept outright;
405 And under cover of that I had much mirth.
For all such wit is given us at birth;
Deceit, weeping, and spinning, does God give
To women, naturally, the while they live.
And thus of one thing I speak boastfully,
410 I got the best of each one, finally,
By trick, or force, or by some kind of thing,
As by continual growls or murmuring;
Especially in bed had they mischance,
There would I chide and give them no pleasance;
415 I would no longer in the bed abide
If I but felt his arm across my side,
Till he had paid his ransom unto me;
Then would I let him do his nicety.
And therefore to all men this tale I tell,
420 Let gain who may, for everything’s to sell.
With empty hand men may no falcons lure;
For profit would I all his lust endure,
And make for him a well-feigned appetite;
Yet I in bacon never had delight;
425 And that is why I used so much to chide.
For if the pope were seated there beside
I’d not have spared them, no, at their own board.
For by my truth, I paid them, word for word.
So help me the True God Omnipotent,
430 Though I right now should make my testament,
I owe them not a word that was not quit.
I brought it so about, and by my wit,
That they must give it up, as for the best,
Or otherwise we’d never have had rest.
435 For though he glared and scowled like lion mad,
Yet failed he of the end he wished he had.

 

lines 437-456: … pleasure

       Thanne wolde I seye, “Goode lief, taak keep,
How mekely looketh Wilkyn oure sheep!
Com neer, my spouse, lat me ba thy cheke!
440 Ye sholde been al pacient and meke,
And han a sweete spiced conscience,
Sith ye so preche of Jobes pacience.
Suffreth alwey, syn ye so wel kan preche,
And but ye do, certein we shal yow teche
445 That it is fair to have a wyf in pees.
Oon of us two moste bowen, doutelees;
And sith a man is moore resonable,
Than womman is, ye moste been suffrable.”
What eyleth yow to grucche thus and grone?
450 Is it for ye wolde have my queynte allone?
Wy, taak it al! lo, have it every deel!
Peter! I shrewe yow, but ye love it weel;
For if I wolde selle my bele chose,
I koude walke as fressh as is a rose
455 But I wol kepe it for youre owene tooth.
Ye be to blame, by God! I sey yow sooth.”
      Then would I say: “Good dearie, see you keep
In mind how meek is Wilkin, our old sheep;
Come near, my spouse, come let me kiss your cheek!
440 You should be always patient, aye, and meek,
And have a sweetly scrupulous tenderness,
Since you so preach of old Job’s patience, yes.
Suffer always, since you so well can preach;
And, save you do, be sure that we will teach
445 That it is well to leave a wife in peace.
One of us two must bow, to be at ease;
And since a man’s more reasonable, they say,
Than woman is, you must have patience aye.
What ails you that you grumble thus and groan?
450 Is it because you’d have my cunt alone?
Why take it all, lo, have it every bit;
Peter! Beshrew you but you’re fond of it!
For if I would go peddle my belle chose,
I could walk out as fresh as is a rose;
455 But I will keep it for your own sweet tooth.
You are to blame, by God I tell the truth.”

 

lines 457-474: The Wife of Bath claims the right to drink

       Swiche manere wordes hadde we on honde.
Now wol I speken of my fourthe housbonde.
       My fourthe housbonde was a revelour –
460 This is to seyn, he hadde a paramour –
And I was yong and ful of ragerye,
Stibourn and strong, and joly as a pye.
Wel koude I daunce to an harpe smale,
And synge, ywis, as any nyghtyngale,
465 Whan I had dronke a draughte of sweete wyn.
Metellius, the foule cherl, the swyn,
That with a staf birafte his wyf hire lyf,
For she drank wyn, thogh I hadde been his wyf,
He sholde nat han daunted me fro drynke.
470 And after wyn on Venus moste I thynke,
For al so siker as cold engendreth hayl,
A likerous mouth moste han a likerous tayl.
In wommen vinolent is no defence,
This knowen lecchours by experience.
      Such were the words I had at my command.
Now will I tell you of my fourth husband.
       “My fourth husband, he was a reveller,
460 That is to say, he kept a paramour;
And young and full of passion then was I,
Stubborn and strong and jolly as a pie.
Well could I dance to tune of harp, nor fail
To sing as well as any nightingale
465 When I had drunk a good draught of sweet wine.
Metellius, the foul churl and the swine,
Did with a staff deprive his wife of life
Because she drank wine; had I been his wife
He never should have frightened me from drink;
470 For after wine, of Venus must I think:
For just as surely as cold produces hail,
A liquorish mouth must have a lickerish tail.
In drunken women has no means of defence,
This know all lechers by experience.

 

lines 475-486: About youth and aging

475        But, Lord Crist! whan that it remembreth me
Upon my yowthe and on my jolitee,
It tikleth me aboute myn herte roote.
Unto this day it dooth myn herte boote
That I have had my world, as in my tyme.
480 But age, allas, that al wole envenyme,
Hath me biraft my beautee and my pith!
Lat go, farewel, the devel go therwith!
The flour is goon, ther is namoore to telle,
The bren as I best kan, now moste I selle;
485 But yet to be right myrie wol I fonde.
Now wol I tellen of my fourthe housbonde.
475       But Lord Christ! When I do remember me
Upon my youth and on my jollity,
It tickles me about my heart’s deep root.
To this day does my heart sing in salute
That I have had my world in my own time.
480 But age, alas! that poisons every prime,
Has taken away my beauty and my pith;
Let go, farewell, the devil go therewith!
The flour is gone, there is no more to tell,
The bran, as best I may, must I now sell;
485 But yet to be right merry I’ll try, and
Now will I tell you of my fourth husband.

 

lines 487-508: The Wife of Bath’s fourth husband

       I seye, I hadde in herte greet despit
That he of any oother had delit;
But he was quit, by God and by Seint Joce!
490 I made hym of the same wode a croce;
Nat of my body in no foul manere,
But certeinly, I made folk swich cheere
That in his owene grece I made hym frye
For angre and for verray jalousye.
495 By God, in erthe I was his purgatorie,
For which I hope his soule be in glorie,
For, God it woot, he sat ful ofte and song
Whan that his shoo ful bitterly hym wrong!
Ther was no wight save God and he, that wiste
500 In many wise how soore I hym twiste.
He deyde whan I cam fro Jerusalem,
And lith ygrave under the roode-beem,
Al is his tombe noght so curyus
As was the sepulcre of hym Daryus,
505 Which that Appelles wroghte subtilly.
It nys but wast to burye hym preciously,
Lat hym fare-wel, God yeve his soule reste,
He is now in his grave, and in his cheste.
      I say that in my heart I’d great despite
When he of any other had delight.
But he was quit by God and by Saint Joce!
490 I made, of the same wood, a staff most gross;
Not with my body and in manner foul,
But certainly I showed so gay a soul
That in his own thick grease I made him fry
For anger and for utter jealousy.
495 By God, on earth I was his purgatory,
For which I hope his soul lives now in glory.
For God knows, many a time he sat and sung
When the shoe bitterly his foot had wrung.
There was no one, save God and he, that knew
500 How, in so many ways, I’d twist the screw.
He died when I came from Jerusalem,
And lies entombed beneath the great rood-beam,
Although his tomb is not so glorious
As was the sepulchre of Darius,
505 The which Apelles wrought full cleverly;
‘Twas waste to bury him expensively.
Let him fare well. God give his soul good rest,
He now is in the grave and in his chest.

lines 509-530: The Wife of Bath’s fifth husband and the market price of sex

       Now of my fifthe housbonde wol I telle.
510 God lete his soule nevere come in helle!
And yet was he to me the mooste shrewe;
That feele I on my ribbes al by rewe,
And evere shal, unto myn endyng day.
But in oure bed he was ful fressh and gay,
515 And therwithal so wel koude he me glose
Whan that he solde han my bele chose,
That thogh he hadde me bet on every bon
He koude wynne agayn my love anon.
I trowe I loved hym beste, for that he
520 Was of his love daungerous to me.
We wommen han, if that I shal nat lye,
In this matere a queynte fantasye;
Wayte what thyng we may nat lightly have,
Therafter wol we crie al day and crave.
525 Forbede us thyng, and that desiren we;
Preesse on us faste, and thanne wol we fle;
With daunger oute we al oure chaffare.
Greet prees at market maketh deere ware,
And to greet cheep is holde at litel prys;
530 This knoweth every womman that is wys.
       And now of my fifth husband will I tell.
510 God grant his soul may never get to Hell!
And yet he was to me most brutal, too;
My ribs yet feel as they were black and blue,
And ever shall, until my dying day.
But in our bed he was so fresh and gay,
515 And therewithal he could so well impose,
What time he wanted use of my belle chose,
That though he’d beaten me on every bone,
He could re-win my love, and that full soon.
I guess I loved him best of all, for he
520 Gave of his love most sparingly to me.
We women have, if I am not to lie,
In this love matter, a quaint fantasy;
Look out a thing we may not lightly have,
And after that we’ll cry all day and crave.
525 Forbid a thing, and that thing covet we;
Press hard upon us, then we turn and flee.
Sparingly offer we our goods, when fair;
Great crowds at market for dearer ware,
And what’s too common brings but little price;
530 All this knows every woman who is wise.

lines 531-548: The Wife of Bath’s gossip

       My fifthe housbonde, God his soule blesse,
Which that I took for love and no richesse,
He somtyme was a clerk of Oxenford,
And hadde left scole, and wente at hom to bord
535 With my gossib, dwellynge in oure toun,
God have hir soule! hir name was Alisoun.
She knew myn herte and eek my privetee
Bet than oure parisshe preest, as moot I thee.
To hir biwreyed I my conseil al,
540 For hadde myn housbonde pissed on a wal,
Or doon a thyng that sholde han cost his lyf,
To hir, and to another worthy wyf,
And to my nece, which that I loved weel,
I wolde han toold his conseil every deel.
545 And so I dide ful often, God it woot,
That made his face ful often reed and hoot
For verray shame, and blamed hym-self, for he
Had toold to me so greet a pryvetee.
      My fifth husband, may God his spirit bless!
Whom I took all for love, and not riches,
Had been sometime a student at Oxford,
And had left school and had come home to board
535 With my best gossip, dwelling in our town,
God save her soul! Her name was Alison.
She knew my heart and all my privity
Better than did our parish priest, s’help me!
To her confided I my secrets all.
540 For had my husband pissed against a wall,
Or done a thing that might have cost his life,
To her and to another worthy wife,
And to my niece whom I loved always well,
I would have told it – every bit I’d tell,
545 And did so, many and many a time, knows God,
Which made his face full often red and hot
For utter shame; he blamed himself that he
Had told me of so deep a privity.

 

lines 549-592: The Wife of Bath tells how she has enchanted her servant

       And so bifel that ones, in a Lente –
550 So often tymes I to my gossyb wente,
For evere yet I loved to be gay,
And for to walke in March, Averill, and May,
Fro hous to hous to heere sondry talys –
That Jankyn Clerk and my gossyb, dame Alys,
555 And I myself into the feeldes wente.
Myn housbonde was at London al that Lente;
I hadde the bettre leyser for to pleye,
And for to se, and eek for to be seye
Of lusty folk; what wiste I, wher my grace
560 Was shapen for to be, or in what place?
Therfore I made my visitaciouns
To vigilies and to processiouns,
To prechyng eek, and to thise pilgrimages,
To pleyes of myracles, and to mariages;
565 And wered upon my gaye scarlet gytes.
Thise wormes ne thise motthes, ne thise mytes,
Upon my peril, frete hem never a deel;
And wostow why? for they were used weel!
      So it happened that on a time, in Lent
550 For oftentimes I to my gossip went,
Since I loved always to be glad and gay
And to walk out, in March, April, and May,
From house to house, to hear the latest malice,
Jenkin the clerk, and my gossip Dame Alis,
555 And I myself into the meadows went.
My husband was in London all that Lent;
I had the greater leisure, then, to play,
And to observe, and to be seen, I say,
By pleasant folk; what knew I where my face
560 Was destined to be loved, or in what place?
Therefore I made my visits round about
To vigils and processions of devout,
To preaching too, and shrines of pilgrimage,
To miracle plays, and always to each marriage,
565 And wore my scarlet skirt before all wights.
These worms and all these moths and all these mites,
I say it at my peril, never ate;
And know you why? I wore it early and late.
       Now wol I tellen forth what happed me.
570 I seye, that in the feeldes walked we,
Til trewely we hadde swich daliance,
This clerk and I, that of my purveiance
I spak to hym, and seyde hym, how that he,
If I were wydwe, sholde wedde me.
575 For certeinly, I sey for no bobance,
Yet was I nevere withouten purveiance
Of mariage, n’of othere thynges eek.
I holde a mouses herte nat worth a leek
That hath but oon hole for to sterte to,
580 And if that faille, thanne is al ydo.
       I bar hym on honde, he hadde enchanted me, –
My dame taughte me that soutiltee.
And eek I seyde, I mette of hym al nyght,
He wolde han slayn me as I lay upright,
585 And al my bed was ful of verray blood;
But yet I hope that he shal do me good,
For blood bitokeneth gold, as me was taught-
And al was fals, I dremed of it right naught,
But as I folwed ay my dames loore
590 As wel of this, as of othere thynges moore.
       But now sir, lat me se, what I shal seyn?
A ha, by God, I have my tale ageyn.
      Now will I tell you what befell to me.
570 I say that in the meadows walked we three
Till, truly, we had come to such dalliance,
This clerk and I, that, of my vigilance,
I spoke to him and told him how that he,
Were I a widow, might well marry me.
575 For certainly I say it not to brag,
But I was never quite without a bag
Full of the needs of marriage that I seek.
I hold a mouse’s heart not worth a leek
That has but one hole into which to run,
580 And if it fail of that, then all is done.
      I made him think he had enchanted me;
My mother taught me all that subtlety.
And then I said I’d dreamed of him all night,
He would have slain me as I lay upright,
585 And all my bed was full of very blood;
But yet I hoped that he would do me good,
For blood betokens gold, as I was taught.
And all was false, I dreamed of him just- naught,
Save as I acted on my mother’s lore,
590 As well in this thing as in many more.
      But now, let’s see, what was I going to say?
Aha, by God, I know! It goes this way.

lines 593-632: The funeral of the fourth husband

       Whan that my fourthe housbonde was on beere,
I weep algate, and made sory cheere,
595 As wyves mooten, for it is usage-
And with my coverchief covered my visage;
But for that I was purveyed of a make,
I wepte but smal, and that I undertake.
       To chirche was myn housbonde born amorwe
600 With neighebores that for hym maden sorwe;
And Janekyn oure clerk was oon of tho.
As help me God! whan that I saugh hym go
After the beere, me thoughte he hadde a paire
Of legges and of feet so clene and faire,
605 That al myn herte I yaf unto his hoold.
He was, I trowe, a twenty wynter oold,
And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth,
But yet I hadde alwey a coltes tooth.
Gat-tothed I was, and that bicam me weel,
610 I hadde the prente of Seinte Venus seel.
As help me God, I was a lusty oon,
And faire, and riche, and yong, and wel bigon,
And trewely, as myne housbondes tolde me,
I hadde the beste quonyam myghte be.
615 For certes, I am al Venerien
In feelynge, and myn herte is Marcien.
Venus me yaf my lust, my likerousnesse,
And Mars yaf me my sturdy hardynesse.
Myn ascendent was Taur, and Mars therinne,
620 Allas, allas, that evere love was synne!
I folwed ay myn inclinacioun
By vertu of my constellacioun;
That made me I koude noght withdrawe
My chambre of Venus from a good felawe.
625 Yet have I Martes mark upon my face,
And also in another privee place.
For God so wys be my savacioun,
I ne loved nevere by no discrecioun,
But evere folwede myn appetit,
630 Al were he short, or long, or blak, or whit.
I took no kep, so that he liked me,
How poore he was, ne eek of what degree.
      When my fourth husband lay upon his bier,
I wept enough and made but sorry cheer,
595 As wives must always, for it’s custom’s grace,
And with my kerchief covered up my face;
But since I was provided with a mate,
I really wept but little, I may state.
      To church my man was borne upon the morrow
600 By neighbours, who for him made signs of sorrow;
And Jenkin, our good clerk, was one of them.
So help me God, when rang the requiem
After the bier, I thought he had a pair
Of legs and feet so clean-cut and so fair
605 That all my heart I gave to him to hold.
He was, I think, but twenty winters old,
And I was forty, if I tell the truth;
But then I always had a young colt’s tooth.
Gap-toothed I was, and that became me well;
610 I had the print of holy Venus’ seal.
So help me God, I was a healthy one,
And fair and rich and young and full of fun;
And truly, as my husbands all told me,
I had the silkiest quoniam that could be.
615 For truly, I am all Venusian
In feeling, and my brain is Martian.
Venus gave me my lust, my lickerishness,
And Mars gave me my sturdy hardiness.
Taurus was my ascendant, with Mars therein.
620 Alas, alas, that ever love was sin!
I followed always my own inclination
By virtue of my natal constellation;
Which wrought me so I never could withdraw
My Venus-chamber from a good fellow.
625 Yet have I Mars’s mark upon my face,
And also in another private place.
For God so truly my salvation be
As I have never loved for policy,
But ever followed my own appetite,
630 Though he were short or tall, or black or white;
I took no heed, so that he cared for me,
How poor he was, nor even of what degree.

lines 633-652: The servant becomes the Wife of Bath’s fifth husband

       What sholde I seye, but at the monthes ende
This joly clerk Jankyn, that was so hende
635 Hath wedded me with greet solempnytee,
And to hym yaf I al the lond and fee
That evere was me yeven therbifoore;
But afterward repented me ful soore;
He nolde suffre nothyng of my list.
640 By God, he smoot me ones on the lyst
For that I rente out of his book a leef,
That of the strook myn ere wax al deef.
Stibourne I was as is a leonesse,
And of my tonge a verray jangleresse,
645 And walke I wolde, as I had doon biforn,
From hous to hous, although he had it sworn,
For which he often-tymes wolde preche,
And me of olde Romayn geestes teche,
How he Symplicius Gallus lefte his wyf,
650 And hir forsook for terme of al his lyf,
Noght but for open-heveded he hir say,
Lookynge out at his dore, upon a day.
      What should I say now, save, at the month’s end,
This jolly, gentle, Jenkin clerk, my friend,
635 Had wedded me full ceremoniously,
And to him gave I all the land in fee
That ever had been given me before;
But, later I repented me full sore.
He never suffered me to have my way.
640 By God, he hit me on the ear, one day,
Because I tore out of his book a leaf,
So that from this my ear is grown quite deaf.
Stubborn I was as is a lioness,
And with my tongue a very jay, I guess,
645 And walk I would, as I had done before,
From house to house, though I should not, he swore.
For which he oftentimes would sit and preach
And read old Roman tales to me and teach
How one Sulpicius Gallus left his wife
650 And her forsook for term of all his life
Because he saw her with bared head, I say,
Looking out from his door, upon a day.

lines 653-716: Old men should read and write, young men should play with their wives

       Another Romayn tolde he me by name,
That for his wyf was at a someres game
655 Withoute his wityng, he forsook hir eke.
And thanne wolde he upon his Bible seke
That like proverbe of Ecclesiaste,
Where he comandeth, and forbedeth faste,
Man shal nat suffre his wyf go roule aboute,
660 Thanne wolde he seye right thus, withouten doute:
       “Who so that buyldeth his hous al of salwes,
And priketh his blynde hors over the falwes,
And suffreth his wyf to go seken halwes,
Is worthy to been hanged on the galwes!”
665 But al for noght, I sette noght an hawe
Of his proverbes, n’of his olde sawe,
Ne I wolde nat of hym corrected be.
I hate hym that my vices telleth me;
And so doo mo, God woot, of us than I.
670 This made hym with me wood al outrely,
I nolde noght forbere hym in no cas.
       Another Roman told he of by name
Who, since his wife was at a summer-game
655 Without his knowing, he forsook her eke.
And then would he within his Bible seek
That proverb of the old Ecclesiast
Where he commands so freely and so fast
That man forbid his wife to gad about;
660 Then would he thus repeat, with never doubt:
       Whoso would build his whole house out of sallows,
And spur his blind horse to run over fallows,
And let his wife alone go seeking hallows,
Is worthy to be hanged upon the gallows.
665 But all for naught, I didn’t care a haw
For all his proverbs, nor for his old saw,
Nor yet would I by him corrected be.
I hate one that my vices tells to me,
And so do more of us- God knows!- than I.
670 This made him mad with me, and furiously,
That I’d not yield to him in any case.
       Now wol I seye yow sooth, by seint Thomas,
Why that I rente out of his book a leef,
For which he smoot me so that I was deef.
675        He hadde a book that gladly, nyght and day,
For his desport he wolde rede alway.
He cleped it Valerie and Theofraste,
At whiche book he lough alwey ful faste.
And eek ther was som tyme a clerk at Rome,
680 A cardinal that highte Seint Jerome,
That made a book agayn Jovinian,
In whiche book eek ther was Tertulan,
Crisippus, Trotula, and Helowys,
That was abbesse nat fer fro Parys,
685 And eek the Parables of Salomon,
Ovides Art, and bookes many on,
And alle thise were bounden in o volume,
And every nyght and day was his custume
Whan he hadde leyser and vacacioun
690 From oother worldly occupacioun
To reden on this book of wikked wyves.
He knew of hem mo legendes and lyves
Than been of goode wyves in the Bible.
For trusteth wel, it is an impossible
695 That any clerk wol speke good of wyves,
But if it be of hooly seintes lyves,
Ne of noon oother womman never the mo.
Who peyntede the leon, tel me, who?
By God! if wommen hadde writen stories,
700 As clerkes han withinne hire oratories,
They wolde han writen of men moore wikkednesse
Than all the mark of Adam may redresse.
The children of Mercurie and Venus
Been in hir wirkyng ful contrarius,
705 Mercurie loveth wysdam and science,
And Venus loveth ryot and dispence.
And for hire diverse disposicioun
Ech falleth in otheres exaltacioun,
And thus, God woot, Mercurie is desolat
710 In Pisces, wher Venus is exaltat;
And Venus falleth ther Mercurie is reysed.
Therfore no womman of no clerk is preysed.
The clerk, whan he is oold and may noght do
Of Venus werkes worth his olde sho,
715 Thanne sit he doun, and writ in his dotage
That wommen kan nat kepe hir mariage.
       Now will I tell you truth, by Saint Thomas,
Of why I tore from out his book a leaf,
For which he struck me so it made me deaf.
675        He had a book that gladly, night and day,
For his amusement he would read alway.
He called it ‘Theophrastus’ and ‘Valerius’,
At which book would he laugh, uproarious.
And, too, there sometime was a clerk at Rome,
680 A cardinal, that men called Saint Jerome,
Who made a book against Jovinian;
In which book, too, there was Tertullian,
Chrysippus, Trotula, and Heloise
Who was abbess near Paris’ diocese;
685 And too, the Proverbs of King Solomon,
And Ovid’s Art, and books full many a one.
And all of these were bound in one volume.
And every night and day ’twas his custom,
When he had leisure and took some vacation
690 From all his other worldly occupation,
To read, within this book, of wicked wives.
He knew of them more legends and more lives
Than are of good wives written in the Bible.
For trust me, it’s impossible, no libel,
695 That any cleric shall speak well of wives,
Unless it be of saints and holy lives,
But naught for other women will they do.
Who painted first the lion, tell me who?
By God, if women had but written stories,
700 As have these clerks within their oratories,
They would have written of men more wickedness
Than all the race of Adam could redress.
The children of Mercury and of Venus
Are in their lives antagonistic thus;
705 For Mercury loves wisdom and science,
And Venus loves but pleasure and expense.
Because they different dispositions own,
Each falls when other’s in ascendant shown.
And God knows Mercury is desolate
710 In Pisces, wherein Venus rules in state;
And Venus falls when Mercury is raised;
Therefore no woman by a clerk is praised.
A clerk, when he is old and can naught do
Of Venus’ labours worth his worn-out shoe,
715 Then sits he down and writes, in his dotage,
That women cannot keep vow of marriage!

lines 717-793: The fifth husband reads about the vices of women and lectures the WoB

       But now to purpos, why I tolde thee
That I was beten for a book, pardee.
Upon a nyght Jankyn, that was oure sire,
720 Redde on his book as he sat by the fire
Of Eva first, that for hir wikkednesse
Was al mankynde broght to wrecchednesse,
For which that Jhesu Crist hymself was slayn,
That boghte us with his herte blood agayn.
725 Lo, heere expres of womman may ye fynde,
That womman was the los of al mankynde.
       Tho redde he me how Sampson loste hise heres,
Slepynge, his lemman kitte it with hir sheres,
Thurgh whiche tresoun loste he bothe hise yen.
730        Tho redde he me, if that I shal nat lyen,
Of Hercules and of his Dianyre,
That caused hym to sette hymself afyre.
       No thyng forgat he the penaunce and wo
That Socrates hadde with hise wyves two,
735 How Xantippa caste pisse upon his heed.
This sely man sat stille as he were deed;
He wiped his heed, namoore dorste he seyn
But, “Er that thonder stynte, comth a reyn.”
       Of Phasipha, that was the queene of Crete,
740 For shrewednesse hym thoughte the tale swete-
Fy! Speke namoore – it is a grisly thyng –
Of hir horrible lust and hir likyng.
       Of Clitermystra for hire lecherye,
That falsly made hir housbonde for to dye,
745 He redde it with ful good devocioun.
      But now to tell you, as I started to,
Why I was beaten for a book, pardieu.
Upon a night Jenkin, who was our sire,
720 Read in his book, as he sat by the fire,
Of Mother Eve who, by her wickedness,
First brought mankind to all his wretchedness,
For which Lord Jesus Christ Himself was slain,
Who, with His heart’s blood, saved us thus again.
725 Lo here, expressly of woman, may you find
That woman was the ruin of mankind.
       Then read he out how Samson lost his hairs,
Sleeping, his leman cut them with her shears;
And through this treason lost he either eye.
730        Then read he out, if I am not to lie,
Of Hercules, and Deianira’s desire
That caused him to go set himself on fire.
       Nothing escaped him of the pain and woe
That Socrates had with his spouses two;
735 How Xantippe threw piss upon his head;
This hapless man sat still, as he were dead;
He wiped his head, no more durst he complain
Than ‘Ere the thunder ceases comes the rain.’
       Then of Pasiphae, the queen of Crete,
740 For cursedness he thought the story sweet;
Fie! Say no more – it is an awful thing –
Of her so horrible lust and love-liking.
       Of Clytemnestra, for her lechery,
Who caused her husband’s death by treachery,
745 He read all this with greatest zest, I vow.
       He tolde me eek for what occasioun
Amphiorax at Thebes loste his lyf.
Myn housbonde hadde a legende of his wyf
Eriphilem, that for an ouche of gold
750 Hath prively unto the Grekes told
Wher that hir housbonde hidde hym in a place,
For which he hadde at Thebes sory grace.
       Of Lyvia tolde he me, and of Lucye,
They bothe made hir housbondes for to dye,
755 That oon for love, that oother was for hate.
Lyvia hir housbonde, on an even late,
Empoysoned hath, for that she was his fo.
Lucia, likerous, loved hir housbonde so,
That for he sholde alwey upon hire thynke,
760 She yaf hym swich a manere love-drynke
That he was deed, er it were by the morwe.
And thus algates housbondes han sorw.
       Thanne tolde he me, how that Latumyus
Compleyned unto his felawe Arrius,
765 That in his gardyn growed swich a tree,
On which he seyde how that hise wyves thre
Hanged hemself, for herte despitus.
“O leeve brother,” quod this Arrius,
“Yif me a plante of thilke blissed tree,
770 And in my gardyn planted it shal bee.”
       Of latter date of wyves hath he red,
That somme han slayn hir housbondes in hir bed,
And lete hir lecchour dighte hir al the nyght,
Whan that the corps lay in the floor upright.
775 And somme han dryve nayles in hir brayn
Whil that they slepte, and thus they han hem slayn.
Somme han hem yeve poysoun in hir drynke.
He spak moore harm than herte may bithynke,
And therwithal he knew of mo proverbes
780 Than in this world ther growen gras or herbes.
“Bet is,” quod he, “thyn habitacioun
Be with a leon, or a foul dragoun,
Than with a womman usynge for to chyde.”
“Bet is,” quod he, “hye in the roof abyde
785 Than with an angry wyf doun in the hous,
They been so wikked and contrarious.
They haten that hir housbondes loveth ay.”
He seyde, “a womman cast hir shame away
Whan she cast of hir smok,” and forther mo,
790 “A fair womman, but she be chaast also,
Is lyk a goldryng in a sowes nose.”
Who wolde leeve, or who wolde suppose
The wo that in myn herte was, and pyne?
       He told me, too, just when it was and how
Amphiaraus at Thebes lost his life;
My husband had a legend of his wife
Eriphyle who, for a brooch of gold,
750 In secrecy to hostile Greeks had told
Whereat her husband had his hiding place,
For which he found at Thebes but sorry grace.
       Of Livia and Lucia told he me,
For both of them their husbands killed, you see,
755 The one for love, the other killed for hate;
Livia her husband, on an evening late,
Made drink some poison, for she was his foe.
Lucia, lecherous, loved her husband so
That, to the end he’d always of her think,
760 She gave him such a, philtre, for love-drink,
That he was dead or ever it was morrow;
And husbands thus, by same means, came to sorrow.
       Then did he tell how one Latumius
Complained unto his comrade Arrius
765 That in his garden grew a baleful tree
Whereon, he said, his wives, and they were three,
Had hanged themselves for wretchedness and woe.
“O brother,” Arrius said, “and did they so?
Give me a graft of that same blessed tree
770 And in my garden planted it shall be!”
       Of wives of later date he also read,
How some had slain their husbands in their bed
And let their lovers shag them all the night
While corpses lay upon the floor upright.
775 And some had driven nails into the brain
While husbands slept and in such wise were slain.
And some had given them poison in their drink.
He told more evil than the mind can think.
And therewithal he knew of more proverbs
780 Than in this world there grows of grass or herbs.
“Better,” he said, “your habitation be
With lion wild or dragon foul,’ said he,
“Than with a woman who will nag and chide.”
“Better,” he said, “on the housetop abide
785 Than with a brawling wife down in the house;
Such are so wicked and contrarious
They hate the thing their husband loves, for aye.”
He said, “a woman throws her shame away
When she throws off her smock,” and further, too:
790 “A woman fair, save she be chaste also,
Is like a ring of gold in a sow’s nose.”
Who would imagine or who would suppose
What grief and pain were in this heart of mine?

 

lines 794-834: Irritation, anger, a fight, deafness and a happy end

And whan I saugh he wolde nevere fyne
795 To reden on this cursed book al nyght,
Al sodeynly thre leves have I plyght
Out of his book, right as he radde, and eke
I with my fest so took hym on the cheke,
That in oure fyr he ril bakward adoun.
800 And he up-stirte as dooth a wood leoun,
And with his fest he smoot me on the heed
That in the floor I lay, as I were deed.
And whan he saugh how stille that I lay,
He was agast, and wolde han fled his way,
805 Til atte laste out of my swogh I breyde.
‘O, hastow slayn me, false theef,’ I seyde,
‘And for my land thus hastow mordred me?
Er I be deed, yet wol I kisse thee.’
And when I saw he’d never cease, in fine,
795 His reading in this cursed book at night,
Three leaves of it I snatched and tore outright
Out of his book, as he read on; and eke
I with my fist so took him on the cheek
That in our fire he reeled and fell right down.
800 Then he got up as does a wild lion,
And with his fist he struck me on the head,
And on the floor I lay as I were dead.
And when he saw how limp and still I lay,
He was afraid and would have run away,
805 Until at last, out of my swoon I made:
‘Oh, have you slain me, you false thief?’ I said,
‘And for my land have you thus murdered me?
Kiss me before I die, and let me be.’
       And neer he cam and kneled faire adoun,
810 And seyde, ‘Deere suster Alisoun,
As help me God, I shal thee nevere smyte.
That I have doon, it is thyself to wyte,
Foryeve it me, and that I thee biseke.”
And yet eftsoones I hitte hym on the cheke,
815 And seyde, ‘Theef, thus muchel am I wreke;
Now wol I dye, I may no lenger speke.’
But atte laste, with muchel care and wo,
We fille acorded by us selven two.
He yaf me al the bridel in myn hond,
820 To han the governance of hous and lond,
And of his tonge, and of his hond also,
And made hym brenne his book anon right tho.
And whan that I hadde geten unto me
By maistrie, al the soveraynetee,
825 And that he seyde, ‘Myn owene trewe wyf,
Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lyf,
Keepe thyn honour, and keep eek myn estaat,’ –
After that day we hadden never debaat.
God help me so, I was to hym as kynde
830 As any wyf from Denmark unto Ynde,
And also trewe, and so was he to me.
I prey to God, that sit in magestee,
So blesse his soule for his mercy deere.
Now wol I seye my tale, if ye wol heere.”
      He came to me and near me he knelt down,
810 And said: ‘O my dear sister Alison,
So help me God, I’ll never strike you more;
What I have done, you are to blame therefor.
But all the same forgiveness now I seek!’
And thereupon I hit him on the cheek,
815 And said: ‘Thief, so much vengeance do I wreak!
Now will I die; I can no longer speak!’
But at the last, and with much care and woe,
We made it up between ourselves. And so
He put the bridle reins within my hand
820 To have the governing of house and land;
And of his tongue and of his hand, also;
And made him burn his book, right then, oho!
And when I had thus gathered unto me
Masterfully, the entire sovereignty,
825 And he had said: ‘My own true wedded wife,
Do as you please the term of all your life,
Guard your own honour and keep fair my state’-
After that day we never had debate.
God help me now, I was to him as kind
830 As any wife from Denmark unto Ind,
And also true, and so was he to me.
I pray to God, Who sits in majesty,
To bless his soul, out of His mercy dear!
Now will I tell my tale, if you will hear.”

lines 835-862: The dialogue between the Summoner and the Friar

Biholde the wordes bitwene the Somonour and the Frere.

 

835        The Frere lough whan he hadde herd al this.-
“Now dame,” quod he, “so have I joye or blis,
This is a long preamble of a tale.”
And whan the Somonour herde the Frere gale,
“Lo,” quod the Somonour, “Goddes armes two,
840 A frere wol entremette hym everemo.
Lo goode men, a flye and eek a frere
Wol falle in every dyssh and eek mateere.
What spekestow of preambulacioun?
What, amble, or trotte, or pees, or go sit doun,
845 Thou lettest oure disport in this manere.”
835       The friar laughed when he had heard all this.
“Now dame,” said he, “so have I joy or bliss
This is a long preamble to a tale!”
And when the summoner heard this friar’s hail,
“Lo,” said the summoner, “by God’s arms two!
840 A friar will always interfere, mark you.
Behold, good men, a housefly and a friar
Will fall in every dish and matters higher.
Why speak of preambling; you in your gown?
What! Amble, trot, hold peace, or go sit down;
845 You hinder our diversion thus to inquire.”
       “Ye, woltow so, sire Somonour?” quod the Frere,
“Now by my feith, I shal er that I go
Telle of a somonour swich a tale or two
That alle the folk shal laughen in this place.”
850        “Now elles, frere, I bishrewe thy face,”
Quod this Somonour, “and I bishrewe me,
But if I telle tales two or thre
Of freres, er I come to Sidyngborne,
That I shal make thyn herte for to morne,
855 For wel I woot thy pacience in gon.”
       Oure Hooste cride, “Pees, and that anon!”
And seyde, “lat the womman telle hire tale,
Ye fare as folk that dronken were of ale.
Do, dame, telle forth youre tale, and that is best.”
860        “Al redy, sire,” quod she, “right as yow lest,
If I have licence of this worthy Frere.”
       “Yis, dame,” quod he, “tel forth, and I wol heere.”
      “Aye, say you so, sir summoner?” said the friar,
“Now by my faith I will, before I go,
Tell of a summoner such a tale, or so,
That all the folk shall laugh who’re in this place’
850        “Otherwise, friar, I beshrew your face,”
Replied this summoner, “and beshrew me
If I do not tell tales here, two or three,
Of friars ere I come to Sittingbourne,
That certainly will give you cause to mourn,
855 For well I know your patience will be gone.”
       Our host cried out, “Now peace, and that anon!”
And said he: “Let the woman tell her tale.
You act like people who are drunk with ale.
Do, lady, tell your tale, and that is best.”
860        “All ready, sir,” said she, “as you request,
If I have license of this worthy friar.”
       “Yes, dame,” said he, “to hear you’s my desire.”

 

Reading: Wife of Bath’s Tale

Heere bigynneth the Tale of the Wyf of Bathe.

       In th’olde dayes of the Kyng Arthour,
Of which that Britons speken greet honour,
865 All was this land fulfild of fayerye.
The elf-queene, with hir joly compaignye,
Daunced ful ofte in many a grene mede.
This was the olde opinion, as I rede;
I speke of manye hundred yeres ago.
870 But now kan no man se none elves mo,
For now the grete charitee and prayeres
Of lymytours and othere hooly freres,
That serchen every lond and every streem,
As thikke as motes in the sonne-beem,
875 Blessynge halles, chambres, kichenes, boures,
Citees, burghes, castels, hye toures,
Thropes, bernes, shipnes, dayeryes,
This maketh that ther been no fayeryes.
For ther as wont to walken was an elf,
880 Ther walketh now the lymytour hymself
In undermeles and in morwenynges,
And seyth his matyns and his hooly thynges
As he gooth in his lymytacioun.
Wommen may go saufly up and doun.
885 In every bussh or under every tree
Ther is noon oother incubus but he,
And he ne wol doon hem but dishonour.
       Now in the olden days of King Arthur,
Of whom the Britons speak with great honour,
865 All this wide land was land of faery.
The elf-queen, with her jolly company,
Danced oftentimes on many a green mead;
This was the old opinion, as I read.
I speak of many hundred years ago;
870 But now no man can see the elves, you know.
For now the so-great charity and prayers
Of limiters and other holy friars
That do infest each land and every stream
As thick as motes are in a bright sunbeam,
875 Blessing halls, chambers, kitchens, ladies’ bowers,
Cities and towns and castles and high towers,
Manors and barns and stables, aye and dairies –
This causes it that there are now no fairies.
For where was wont to walk full many an elf,
880 Right there walks now the limiter himself
In noons and afternoons and in mornings,
Saying his matins and such holy things,
As he goes round his district in his gown.
Women may now go safely up and down,
885 In every copse or under every tree;
There is no other incubus, than he,
And would do them nothing but dishonour.

lines 888-904: A rape, a penalty, the queen judge

       And so bifel it that this kyng Arthour
Hadde in his hous a lusty bacheler,
890 That on a day cam ridynge fro ryver;
And happed that, allone as she was born,
He saugh a mayde walkynge hym biforn,
Of whiche mayde anon, maugree hir heed,
By verray force he rafte hir maydenhed;
895 For which oppressioun was swich clamour
And swich pursute unto the kyng Arthour,
That dampned was this knyght for to be deed,
By cours of lawe, and sholde han lost his heed –
Paraventure, swich was the statut tho –
900 But that the queene and othere ladyes mo
So longe preyeden the kyng of grace,
Til he his lyf hym graunted in the place,
And yaf hym to the queene al at hir wille,
To chese wheither she wolde hym save or spille.
       And so it happened that this King Arthur
Had at his court a lusty bachelor
890 Who, on a day, came riding from river;
And happened that, alone as she was born,
He saw a maiden walking through the corn,
From whom, in spite of all her screams of pity,
Straightway by force he took her virginity;
895 For which violation was there such clamour,
And such appealing unto King Arthur,
That soon condemned was this knight to be dead
By course of law, and should have lost his head,
Peradventure, such being the statute then;
900 But that the other ladies and the queen
So long prayed of the king to show him grace,
He granted life, at last, in the law’s place,
And gave him to the queen, as she should will,
Whether she’d save him, or his blood should spill.

lines 905-918: The queen sends the criminal knight on a quest

905        The queene thanketh the kyng with al hir myght,
And after this thus spak she to the knyght,
Whan that she saugh hir tyme, upon a day,
“Thou standest yet,” quod she, “in swich array
That of thy lyf yet hastow no suretee.
910 I grante thee lyf, if thou kanst tellen me
What thyng is it that wommen moost desiren.
Be war and keep thy nekke-boon from iren!
And if thou kanst nat tellen it anon,
Yet shal I yeve thee leve for to gon
915 A twelf-month and a day to seche and leere
An answere suffisant in this mateere;
And suretee wol I han, er that thou pace,
Thy body for to yelden in this place.”
905        The queen she thanked the king with all her might,
And after this, thus spoke she to the knight,
When she’d an opportunity, one day:
“You stand yet,” said she, “in such poor a way
That for your life you’ve no security.
910 I’ll grant you life if you can tell to me
What thing it is that women most desire.
Be wise, and keep your neck from iron dire!
And if you cannot tell it me anon,
Then will I give you license to be gone
915 A twelvemonth and a day, to search and learn
Sufficient answer in this grave concern.
And your knight’s word I’ll have, before forth you pace,
To yield your body to me in this place.”

lines 919-957: The knight searches the land

       Wo was this knyght, and sorwefully he siketh;
920 But what! He may nat do al as hym liketh.
And at the laste he chees hym for to wende,
And come agayn right at the yeres ende,
With swich answere as God wolde hym purveye;
And taketh his leve, and wendeth forth his weye.
925        He seketh every hous and every place
Where as he hopeth for to fynde grace
To lerne what thyng wommen loven moost;
But he ne koude arryven in no coost
Wher as he myghte fynde in this mateere
930 Two creatures accordynge in-feere.
Somme seyde, wommen loven best richesse,
Somme seyde honour, somme seyde jolynesse,
Somme riche array, somme seyden lust abedde,
And oftetyme to be wydwe and wedde.
935 Somme seyde, that oure hertes been moost esed
Whan that we been yflatered and yplesed.
He gooth ful ny the sothe, I wol nat lye,
A man shal wynne us best with flaterye;
And with attendance and with bisynesse
940 Been we ylymed, bothe moore and lesse.
       Grieved was this knight, and sorrowfully he sighed;
920 But there! He could not do as pleased his pride.
And at the last he chose that he would wend
And come again upon the twelvemonth’s end,
With such an answer as God might purvey;
And so he took his leave and went his way.
925 He sought out every house and every place
Wherein he hoped to find that he had grace
To learn what women love the most of all;
But nowhere ever did it him befall
To find, upon the question stated here,
930 Two, persons who agreed with statement clear.
Some said that women all loved best riches,
Some said, fair fame, and some said, prettiness;
Some, rich array, some said ’twas lust abed
And often to be widowed and re-wed.
935 Some said that our poor hearts are aye most eased
When we have been most flattered and thus pleased
And he went near the truth, I will not lie;
A man may win us best with flattery;
And with attentions and with busyness
940 We’re often limed, the greater and the less.
       And somme seyen, how that we loven best
For to be free, and do right as us lest,
And that no man repreve us of oure vice,
But seye that we be wise, and nothyng nyce.
945 For trewely, ther is noon of us alle,
If any wight wol clawe us on the galle,
That we nel kike; for he seith us sooth;
Assay, and he shal fynde it that so dooth.
For, be we never so vicious withinne,
950 We sol been holden wise, and clene of synne.
       And somme seyn, that greet delit han we
For to been holden stable and eek secree,
And in o purpos stedefastly to dwelle,
And nat biwreye thyng that men us telle.
955 But that tale is nat worth a rake-stele,
Pardee, we wommen konne no thyng hele.
Witnesse on Myda, – wol ye heere the tale?
       And some say, too, that we do love the best
To be quite free to do our own behest,
And that no man reprove us for our vice,
But saying we are wise, take our advice.
945 For truly there is no one of us all,
If anyone shall rub us on a gall,
That will not kick because he tells the truth.
Try, and he’ll find, who does so, I say sooth.
No matter how much vice we have within,
950 We would be held for wise and clean of sin.
And some folk say that great delight have we
To be held constant, also trustworthy,
And on one purpose steadfastly to dwell,
And not betray a thing that men may tell.
955 But that tale is not worth a rake’s handle;
By God, we women can no thing conceal,
As witness Midas. Would you hear the tale?

 

lines 958-988: Ovid’s tale about Midas: a women cannot keep a secret

       Ovyde, amonges othere thynges smale,
Seyde, Myda hadde under his longe heres
960 Growynge upon his heed two asses eres,
The whiche vice he hydde, as he best myghte,
Ful subtilly from every mannes sighte,
That, save his wyf, ther wiste of it namo.
He loved hire moost and trusted hir also;
965 He preyede hire, that to no creature
She sholde tellen of his disfigure.
       She swoor him nay, for al this world to wynne,
She nolde do that vileynye or synne,
To make hir housbonde han so foul a name.
970 She nolde nat telle it for hir owene shame.
But nathelees, hir thoughte that she dyde,
That she so longe sholde a conseil hyde;
Hir thoughte it swal so soore aboute hir herte
That nedely som word hir moste asterte;
975 And sith she dorste telle it to no man,
Doun to a mareys faste by she ran,
Til she cam there, hir herte was a fyre,
And as a bitore bombleth in the myre,
She leyde hir mouth unto the water doun:
980 “Biwreye me nat, thou water, with thy soun,”
Quod she, “to thee I telle it and namo,
Myn housbonde hath longe asses erys two!
Now is myn herte al hool, now is it oute.
I myghte no lenger kepe it, out of doute.”
985 Heere may ye se, thogh we a tyme abyde,
Yet out it moot, we kan no conseil hyde.
The remenant of the tale, if ye wol heere,
Redeth Ovyde, and ther ye may it leere.
       Ovid, among some other matters small,
Said Midas had beneath his long curled hair,
960 Two ass’s ears that grew in secret there,
The which defect he hid, as best he might,
Full cunningly from every person’s sight,
And, save his wife, no one knew of it, no.
He loved her most, and trusted her also;
965 And he prayed of her that to no creature
She’d tell of his disfigurement impure.
       She swore him: Nay, for all this world to win
She would do no such villainy or sin
And cause her husband have so foul a name;
970 Nor would she tell it for her own deep shame.
Nevertheless, she thought she would have died
Because so long the secret must she hide;
It seemed to swell so big about her heart
That some word from her mouth must surely start;
975 And since she dared to tell it to no man,
Down to a marsh, that lay hard by, she ran;
Till she came there her heart was all afire,
And as a bittern booms in the quagmire,
She laid her mouth low to the water down:
980 “Betray me not, you sounding water blown,”
Said she, “I tell it to none else but you:
Long ears like asses’ has my husband two!
Now is my heart at ease, since that is out;
I could no longer keep it, there’s no doubt.”
985 Here may you see, though for a while we bide,
Yet out it must; no secret can we hide.
The rest of all this tale, if you would hear,
Read Ovid: in his book does it appear.

lines 989-1014: The knight’s last chance

       This knyght, of which my tale is specially,
990 Whan that he saugh he myghte nat come therby,
This is to seye, what wommen love moost,
Withinne his brest ful sorweful was the goost.
But hoom he gooth, he myghte nat sojourne;
The day was come that homward moste he tourne.
995 And in his wey it happed hym to ryde,
In al this care under a forest syde,
Wher as he saugh upon a daunce go
Of ladyes foure and twenty, and yet mo;
Toward the whiche daunce he drow ful yerne,
1000 In hope that som wysdom sholde he lerne.
But certeinly, er he came fully there,
Vanysshed was this daunce, he nyste where.
No creature saugh he that bar lyf,
Save on the grene he saugh sittynge a wyf –
1005 A fouler wight ther may no man devyse.
Agayn the knyght this olde wyf gan ryse,
And seyde, “Sire knyght, heer forth ne lith no wey.
Tel me what that ye seken, by your fey!
Paraventure it may the bettre be,
1010 Thise olde folk kan muchel thyng,” quod she.
       “My leeve mooder,” quod this knyght, “certeyn
I nam but deed, but if that I kan seyn
What thyng it is, that wommen moost desire.
Koude ye me wisse, I wolde wel quite youre hire.”
       This knight my tale is chiefly told about
990 When what he went for he could not find out,
That is, the thing that women love the best,
Most saddened was the spirit in his breast;
But home he goes, he could no more delay.
The day was come when home he turned his way;
995 And on his way it chanced that he should ride
In all his care, beneath a forest’s side,
And there he saw, a-dancing him before,
Full four and twenty ladies, maybe more;
Toward which dance eagerly did he turn
1000 In hope that there some wisdom he should learn.
But truly, before he came upon them there,
The dancers vanished all, he knew not where.
No creature saw he that gave sign of life,
Except, on the greensward sitting, an old wife;
1005 A fouler person could no man devise.
Before the knight this old wife did arise,
And said: “Sir knight, hence lies no travelled way.
Tell me what thing you seek, and by your fay.
Perchance you’ll find it may the better be;
1010 These ancient folk know many things,” said she.
       “Dear mother,” said this knight assuredly,
“I am as good as dead, unless I can tell, truly,
What thing it is that women most desire;
Could you inform me, I’d pay well your hire.”

lines 1015-1036: The knight gives his word

1015        “Plight me thy trouthe, heere in myn hand,” quod she,
“The nexte thyng that I requere thee,
Thou shalt it do, if it lye in thy myght,
And I wol telle it yow, er it be nyght.”
       “Have heer my trouthe,” quod the knyght, “I grante.”
1020        “Thanne,” quod she, “I dar me wel avante
Thy lyf is sauf; for I wol stonde therby,
Upon my lyf, the queene wol seye as I.
Lat se which is the proudeste of hem alle,
That wereth on a coverchief or a calle,
1025 That dar seye nay of that I shal thee teche.
Lat us go forth withouten lenger speche.”
Tho rowned she a pistel in his ere,
And bad hym to be glad and have no fere.
       Whan they be comen to the court, this knyght
1030 Seyde he had holde his day, as he hadde hight,
And redy was his answere, as he sayde.
Ful many a noble wyf, and many a mayde,
And many a wydwe, for that they been wise,
The queene hirself sittynge as a justise,
1035 Assembled been, his answere for to heere;
And afterward this knyght was bode appeere.
1015        “Give me your promise here, hand in hand,” said she,
“That you will do, whatever it may be,
The thing I ask if it lie in your might;
And I’ll give you your answer before the night.”
       “Have here my word,” said he. “That thing I grant.”
1020        “Then,” said the crone, “of this I make my vaunt,
Your life is safe; and I will stand thereby,
Upon my life, the queen will say as I.
Let’s see which is the proudest of them all
That wears upon her hair kerchief or caul,
1025 Shall dare say no to that which I shall teach;
Let us go now and without longer speech.”
Then whispered she a sentence in his ear,
And bade him to be glad and have no fear.
       When they were come unto the court, this knight
1030 Said he had kept his promise as was right,
And ready was his answer, as he said.
Full many a noble wife, and many a maid,
And many a widow, since they are so wise,
The queen herself sitting as high justice,
1035 Assembled were, his answer there to hear;
And then the knight was bidden to appear.

lines 1037-1051: What women want most of all

       To every wight comanded was silence,
And that the knyght sholde telle in audience
What thyng that worldly wommen loven best.
1040 This knyght ne stood nat stille as doth a best,
But ot his questioun anon answerde
With manly voys, that al the court it herde:
       Command was given for silence in the hall,
And that the knight should tell before them all
What thing all worldly women love the best.
1040 This knight did not stand dumb, as does a beast,
But to this question promptly answered
With manly voice, so that the whole court heard:
       “My lige lady, generally,” quod he,
“Wommen desiren to have sovereynetee
1045 As wel over hir housbond as hir love,
And for to been in maistrie hym above.
This is youre mooste desir, thogh ye me kille.
Dooth as yow list, I am heer at youre wille.”
In al the court ne was ther wyf, ne mayde,
1050 Ne wydwe, that contraried that he sayde,
But seyden he was worthy han his lyf.
       “My liege lady, generally,” said he,
“Women desire to have the sovereignty
1045 As well upon their husband as their love,
And to have mastery their man above;
This thing you most desire, though me you kill
Do as you please, I am here at your will.”
In all the court there was no wife or maid
1050 Or widow that denied the thing he said,
But all held, he was worthy to have life.

lines 1052-1078: The fulfilment of the knight’s promise 

And with that word up stirte the olde wyf,
Which that the knyght saugh sittynge in the grene.
“Mercy,” quod she, “my sovereyn lady queene,
1055 Er that youre court departe, do me right.
I taughte this answere unto the knyght,
For which he plighte me his trouthe there,
The firste thyng I wolde of hym requere,
He wolde it do, if it lay in his myght.
1060 Bifor the court thanne preye I thee, sir knyght,”
Quod she, “that thou me take unto thy wyf,
For wel thou woost that I have kept thy lyf.
If I seye fals, sey nay, upon thy fey!”
This knyght answerde, “Allas and weylawey!
1065 I woot right wel that swich was my biheste!
For Goddes love, as chees a newe requeste!
Taak al my good, and lat my body go!”
       “Nay, thanne,” quod she, “I shrewe us bothe two!
For thogh that I be foul, and oold, and poore,
1070 I nolde for al the metal, ne for oore,
That under erthe is grave, or lith above,
But if thy wyf I were, and eek thy love.”
And with that word up started the old wife
Whom he had seen a-sitting on the green.
“Mercy,” cried she, “my sovereign lady queen!
1055 Before the court’s dismissed, give me my right.
‘Twas I who taught the answer to this knight;
For which he did gave his word to me, out there,
That the first thing I should of him require
He would do that, if it lay in his might.
1060 Before the court, now, pray I you, sir knight,”
Said she, “that you will take me for your wife;
For well you know that I have saved your life.
If this be false, say nay, upon your fay!”
This knight replied: “Alas and welaway!
1065 That I so promised I will not protest.
But for God’s love pray make a new request.
Take all my wealth and let my body go.”
       “Nay then,” said she, “beshrew us if I do!
For though I may be foul and old and poor,
1070 I will not, for all metal and all ore
That from the earth is dug or lies above,
Be aught except your wife and your true love.”
       “My love?” quod he, “nay, my dampnacioun!
Allas, that any of my nacioun
1075 Sholde evere so foule disparaged be!”
But al for noght, the ende is this, that he
Constreyned was, he nedes moste hir wedde;
And taketh his olde wyf, and gooth to bedde.
       “My love?” cried he, “nay, rather my damnation!
Alas! that any of my race and station
1075 Should ever so dishonoured foully be!”
But all for naught; the end was this, that he
Was so constrained he needs must go and wed,
And take his ancient wife and go to bed.

lines 1079-1109: A frugal wedding

       Now wolden som men seye, paraventure,
1080 That for my necligence I do no cure
To tellen yow the joye and al th’array,
That at the feeste was that ilke day;
To whiche thyng shortly answere I shal:
I seye, ther nas no joye ne feeste at al;
1085 Ther nas but hevynesse and muche sorwe.
For prively he wedde hir on a morwe,
And al day after hidde hym as an owle,
So wo was hym, his wyf looked so foule.
       Greet was the wo the knyght hadde in his thoght,
1090 Whan he was with his wyf abedde ybroght;
He walweth and he turneth to and fro.
His olde wyf lay smylynge everemo,
And seyde, “O deere housbonde, benedicitee,
Fareth every knyght thus with his wyf, as ye?
1095 Is this the lawe of Kyng Arthures hous?
Is every knyght of his so dangerous?
I am youre owene love and youre wyf;
I am she which that saved hath youre lyf.
And certes, yet dide I yow nevere unright;
1100 Why fare ye thus with me this firste nyght?
Ye faren lyk a man had lost his wit.
What is my gilt? For Goddes love, tel it,
And it shal been amended, if I may.”
       “Amended,” quod this knyght, “allas! nay! nay!
1105 It wol nat been amended nevere mo;
Thou art so loothly and so oold also,
And therto comen of so lough a kynde,
That litel wonder is thogh I walwe and wynde.
So wolde God, myn herte wolde breste!”
       Now, peradventure, would some men say here,
1080 That, of my negligence, I take no care
To tell you of the joy and all the array
That at the wedding feast were seen that day.
Make a brief answer to this thing I shall;
I say, there was no joy or feast at all;
1085 There was but heaviness and grievous sorrow;
For privately he wedded on the morrow,
And all day, then, he hid him like an owl;
So sad he was, his old wife looked so foul.
       Great was the woe the knight had in his thought
1090 When he, with her, to marriage bed was brought;
He rolled about and turned him to and fro.
His old wife lay there, always smiling so,
And said: “O my dear husband, ben’cite!
Fares every knight with wife as you with me?
1095 Is this the custom in King Arthur’s house?
Are knights of his all so fastidious?
I am your own true love and, more, your wife;
And I am she who saved your very life;
And truly, since I’ve never done you wrong,
1100 Why do you treat me so, this first night long?
You act as does a man who’s lost his wit;
What is my fault? For God’s love tell me it,
And it shall be amended, if I may.”
       “Amended!” cried this knight, “Alas, nay, nay!
1105 It will not be amended ever, no!
You are so loathsome, and so old also,
And therewith of so low a race were born,
It’s little wonder that I toss and turn.
Would God my heart would break within my breast!”

lines 1110-1130: Jesus on the origin of gentility 

1110        “Is this,” quod she, “the cause of youre unreste?”
       “Ye certeinly,” quod he, “no wonder is!”
       “Now, sire,” quod she, “I koude amende al this,
If that me liste, er it were dayes thre,
So wel ye myghte bere yow unto me.
1115        But for ye speken of swich gentillesse
As is descended out of old richesse,
That therfore sholden ye be gentil men,
Swich arrogance nis nat worth an hen.
Looke who that is moost vertuous alway,
1120 Pryvee and apert, and moost entendeth ay
To do the gentil dedes that he kan,
Taak hym for the grettest gentil man.
Crist wole we clayme of hym oure gentillesse,
Nat of oure eldres for hire old richesse.
1125 For thogh they yeve us al hir heritage,
For which we clayme to been of heigh parage,
Yet may they nat biquethe, for no thyng
To noon of us hir vertuous lyvyng,
That made hem gentil men ycalled be,
1130 And bad us folwen hem in swich degree.
1110        “Is this,” asked she, “the cause of your unrest?”
       “Yes, truly,” said he, “and no wonder ’tis.”
       “Now, sir,” said she, “I could amend all this,
If I but would, and that within days three,
If you would bear yourself well towards me.
1115        “But since you speak of such gentility
As is descended from old wealth, till ye
Claim that for that you should be gentlemen,
I hold such arrogance not worth a hen.
Find him who is most virtuous alway,
1120 Alone or publicly, and most tries aye
To do whatever noble deeds he can,
And take him for the greatest gentleman.
Christ wills we claim from him gentility,
Not from ancestors of landocracy.
1125 For though they give us all their heritage,
For which we claim to be of high lineage,
Yet can they not bequeath, in anything,
To any of us, their virtuous living,
That made men say they had gentility,
1130 And bade us follow them in like degree.

lines 1131-1170: Dante on the origin of gentility

       Wel kan the wise poete of Florence,
That highte Dant, speken in this sentence.
Lo in swich maner rym is Dantes tale:
`Ful selde upriseth by his branches smale
1135 Prowesse of man, for God of his goodnesse,
Wole, that of hym we clayme oure gentillesse.’
For of oure eldres may we no thyng clayme
But temporel thyng, that man may hurte and mayme.
       Eek every wight woot this as wel as I,
1140 If gentillesse were planted natureelly
Unto a certeyn lynage doun the lyne,
Pryvee nor apert, thanne wolde they nevere fyne
To doon of gentillesse the faire office,
They myghte do no vileynye or vice.
1145        Taak fyr, and ber it in the derkeste hous
Bitwix this and the mount of Kaukasous,
And lat men shette the dores and go thenne;
Yet wole the fyr as faire lye and brenne
As twenty thousand men myghte it biholde;
1150 His office natureel ay wol it holde,
Up peril of my lyf, til that it dye.
       Heere may ye se wel, how that genterye
Is nat annexed to possessioun,
Sith folk ne doon hir operacioun
1155 Alwey, as dooth the fyr, lo, in his kynde.
For God it woot, men may wel often fynde
A lordes sone do shame and vileynye,
And he that wole han pris of his gentrye,
For he was boren of a gentil hous,
1160 And hadde hise eldres noble and vertuous,
And nel hym-selven do no gentil dedis,
Ne folwen his gentil auncestre that deed is,
He nys nat gentil, be he duc or erl;
For vileyns synful dedes make a cherl.
1165 For gentillesse nys but renomee
Of thyne auncestres for hire heigh bountee,
Which is a strange thyng to thy persone.
Thy gentillesse cometh fro God allone.
Thanne comth oure verray gentillesse of grace,
1170 It was no thyng biquethe us with oure place.
       Well does that poet wise of great Florence,
Called Dante, speak his mind in this sentence;
Somewhat like this may it translated be:
‘Rarely unto the branches of the tree
1135 Doth human worth mount up: and so ordains
He who bestows it; to him it pertains.’
For of our fathers may we nothing claim
But temporal things, that man may hurt and maim
       And everyone knows this as well as I,
1140 If nobleness were implanted naturally
Within a certain lineage, down the line,
In private and in public, I opine,
The ways of gentleness they’d alway show
And never fall to vice and conduct low.
1145        Take fire and carry it in the darkest house
Between here and the Mount of Caucasus,
And let men shut the doors and from them turn;
Yet will the fire as fairly blaze and burn
As twenty thousand men did it behold;
1150 Its nature and its office it will hold,
On peril of my life, until it die.
“From this you see that true gentility
Is not allied to wealth a man may own,
Since folk do not their deeds, as may be shown,
1155 As does the fire, according to its kind.
For God knows that men may full often find
A lord’s son doing shame and villainy;
And he that prizes his gentility
In being born of some old noble house,
1160 With ancestors both noble and virtuous,
But will himself do naught of noble deeds
Nor follow him to whose name he succeeds,
He is not gentle, be he duke or earl;
For acting churlish makes a man a churl.
1165 Gentility is not just the renown
Of ancestors who have some greatness shown,
In which you have no portion of your own.
Your own gentility comes from God alone;
Thence comes our true nobility by grace,
1170 It was not willed us with our rank and place

lines 1171-1212: Reflections on poverty and gentility

       Thenketh hou noble, as seith Valerius,
Was thilke Tullius Hostillius,
That out of poverte roos to heigh noblesse.
Reedeth Senek, and redeth eek Boece,
1175 Ther shul ye seen expres that it no drede is,
That he is gentil that dooth gentil dedis.
And therfore, leeve housbonde, I thus conclude:
Al were it that myne auncestres weren rude,
Yet may the hye God, and so hope I,
1180 Grante me grace to lyven vertuously.
Thanne am I gentil whan that I bigynne
To lyven vertuously, and weyve synne.
       And ther as ye of poverte me repreeve,
The hye God, on whom that we bileeve,
1185 In wilful poverte chees to lyve his lyf.
And certes every man, mayden or wyf,
May understonde that Jesus, hevene kyng,
Ne wolde nat chesen vicious lyvyng.
Glad poverte is an honeste thyng, certeyn,
1190 This wole Senec and othere clerkes seyn.
Who so that halt hym payd of his poverte,
I holde hym riche, al hadde he nat a sherte.
He that coveiteth is a povre wight,
For he wolde han that is nat in his myght;
1195 But he that noght hath, ne coveiteth have,
Is riche, although ye holde hym but a knave.
Verray poverte, it syngeth proprely;
Juvenal seith of poverte myrily:
`The povre man, whan he goth by the weye,
1200 Bifore the theves he may synge and pleye.’
Poverte is hateful good, and, as I gesse,
A ful greet bryngere out of bisynesse;
A greet amender eek of sapience
To hym that taketh it in pacience.
1205 Poverte is this, although it seme alenge,
Possessioun, that no wight wol chalenge.
Poverte ful ofte, whan a man is lowe,
Maketh his God and eek hymself to knowe.
Poverte a spectacle is, as thynketh me,
1210 Thurgh which he may hise verray freendes see.
And therfore, sire, syn that I noght yow greve,
Of my poverte namoore ye me repreve.
       Think how noble, as says Valerius,
Was that same Tullius Hostilius,
Who out of poverty rose to high estate.
Seneca and Boethius inculcate,
1175 Expressly (and no doubt it thus proceeds),
That he is noble who does noble deeds;
And therefore, husband dear, I thus conclude:
Although my ancestors mayhap were rude,
Yet may the High Lord God, and so hope I,
1180 Grant me the grace to live right virtuously.
Then I’ll be gentle when I do begin
To live in virtue and to do no sin.
       And when you me reproach for poverty,
The High God, in Whom we believe, say I,
1185 In voluntary poverty lived His life.
And surely every man, or maid, or wife
May understand that Jesus, Heaven’s King,
Would not have chosen vileness of living.
Glad poverty’s an honest thing, that’s plain,
1190 Which Seneca and other clerks maintain.
Whoso will be content with poverty,
I hold him rich, though not a shirt has he.
And he that covets much is a poor wight,
For he would gain what’s all beyond his might,
1195 But he that has not, nor desires to have,
Is rich, although you hold him but a knave.
“True poverty, it sings right naturally;
Juvenal gaily says of poverty:
‘The poor man, when he walks along the way,
1200 Before the robbers he may sing and play.’
Poverty’s odious good, and, as I guess,
It is a stimulant to busyness;
A great improver, too, of sapience
In him that takes it all with due patience.
1205 Poverty’s this, though it seem misery –
Its quality may none dispute, say I.
Poverty often, when a man is low,
Makes him his God and even himself to know.
And poverty’s an eye-glass, seems to me,
1210 Through which a man his loyal friends may see.
Since you’ve received no injury from me,
Then why reproach me for my poverty.

 

lines 1213-1241: The two choices of the knight

       Now sire, of elde ye repreve me,
And certes, sire, thogh noon auctoritee
1215 Were in no book, ye gentils of honour
Seyn, that men sholde an oold wight doon favour,
And clepe hym fader for youre gentillesse;
And auctours shal I fynden, as I gesse.
       Now, ther ye seye that I am foul and old,
1220 Than drede you noght to been a cokewold;
For filthe and eelde, al so moot I thee,
Been grete wardeyns upon chastitee;
But nathelees, syn I knowe youre delit,
I shal fulfille youre worldly appetit.”
       Now, sir, with age you have upbraided me;
And truly, sir, though no authority
1215 Were in a book, you gentles of honour
Say that men should the aged show favour,
And call him father, of your gentleness;
And authors could I find for this, I guess.
       Now since you say that I am foul and old,
1220 Then fear you not to be made a cuckold;
For dirt and age, as prosperous I may be,
Are mighty wardens over chastity.
Nevertheless, since I know your delight,
I’ll satisfy your worldly appetite.
1225        “Chese now,” quod she, “oon of thise thynges tweye:
To han me foul and old til that I deye,
And be to yow a trewe humble wyf,
And nevere yow displese in al my lyf;
Or elles ye wol han me yong and fair,
1230 And take youre aventure of the repair
That shal be to youre hous, by cause of me,
Or in som oother place may wel be.
Now chese yourselven wheither that yow liketh.”
       This knyght avyseth hym and sore siketh,
1235 But atte laste, he seyde in this manere:
“My lady and my love, and wyf so deere,
I put me in youre wise governance.
Cheseth yourself, which may be moost plesance
And moost honour to yow and me also.
1240 I do no fors the wheither of the two;
For, as yow liketh, it suffiseth me.”
1225        “Two choices,” said she, “which one will you try,
To have me foul and old until I die,
And be to you a true and humble wife,
And never anger you in all my life;
Or else to have me young and very fair
1230 And take your chance with those who will repair
Unto your house, and all because of me,
Or in some other place, as well may be.
Now choose which you like better and reply.”
       This knight considered, and did sorely sigh,
1235 But at the last replied as you shall hear:
“My lady and my love, and wife so dear,
I put myself in your wise governing;
Do you choose which may be the more pleasing,
And bring most honour to you, and me also.
1240 I care not which it be of these things two;
For if you like it, that suffices me.”

lines 1242-1270: A happy end

       “Thanne have I gete of yow maistrie,” quod she,
“Syn I may chese and governe as me lest?”
       “Ye, certes, wyf,” quod he, “I holde it best.”
1245        “Kys me,” quod she, “we be no lenger wrothe,
For, by my trouthe, I wol be to yow bothe!
This is to seyn, ye, bothe fair and good.
I prey to God that I moote sterven wood
But I to yow be al so good and trewe
1250 As evere was wyf, syn that the world was newe.
And but I be to-morn as fair to seene
As any lady, emperice, or queene,
That is bitwixe the est and eke the west,
Dooth with my lyf and deth right as yow lest.
1255 Cast up the curtyn, looke how that it is.”
       “Then have I got of you the mastery,
Since I may choose and govern, in earnest?”
       “Yes, truly, wife,” said he, “I hold that best.”
1245        “Kiss me,” said she, “we’ll be no longer wroth,
For by my truth, to you I will be both;
That is to say, I’ll be both good and fair.
I pray God I go mad, and so declare,
If I be not to you as good and true
1250 As ever wife was since the world was new.
And, save I be, at dawn, as fairly seen
As any lady, empress, or great queen
That is between the east and the far west,
Do with my life and death as you like best.
1255 Throw back the curtain and see how it is.”
       And whan the knyght saugh verraily al this,
That she so fair was, and so yong therto,
For joye he hente hire in hise armes two.
His herte bathed in a bath of blisse,
1260 A thousand tyme a-rewe he gan hir kisse,
And she obeyed hym in every thyng
That myghte doon hym plesance or likyng.
       And thus they lyve unto hir lyves ende
In parfit joye;-and Jesu Crist us sende
1265 Housbondes meeke, yonge, fressh abedde,
And grace t’overbyde hem that we wedde;
And eek I praye Jesu shorte hir lyves
That nat wol be governed by hir wyves;
And olde and angry nygardes of dispence,
1270 God sende hem soone verray pestilence!
       And when the knight saw verily all this,
That she so very fair was, and young too,
For joy he clasped her in his strong arms two,
His heart bathed in a bath of utter bliss;
1260 A thousand times, all in a row, he’d kiss.
And she obeyed his wish in everything
That might give pleasure to his love-liking.
       And thus they lived unto their lives’ fair end,
In perfect joy; and Jesus to us send
1265 Meek husbands, and young ones, and fresh in bed,
And good luck to outlive them that we wed.
And I pray Jesus to cut short the lives
Of those who’ll not be governed by their wives;
And old and querulous niggards with their pence,
1270 And send them soon a mortal pestilence!

 

Heere endeth the Wyves Tale of Bathe

Source Text:

Kökbugur, Sinan, ed. The Canterbury Tales (in Middle and Modern English). Librarius.com, 1997, is copyright protected but reproduction expressly allowed for non-profit, educational use.

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An Open Companion to Early British Literature Copyright © 2019 by Allegra Villarreal is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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