Chapter 27

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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