Chapter 32

When they were come almost to that city, *But if it were* a two furlong or three, *all but* A young clerk roaming by himself they met, Which that in Latin *thriftily them gret.* *greeted them And after that he said a wondrous thing; civilly* I know,” quoth he, “the cause of your coming;” Aud ere they farther any foote went, He told them all that was in their intent. The Breton clerk him asked of fellaws The which he hadde known in olde daws,* *days And he answer’d him that they deade were, For which he wept full often many a tear. Down off his horse Aurelius light anon, And forth with this magician is be gone Home to his house, and made him well at ease; Them lacked no vitail* that might them please. *victuals, food So well-array’d a house as there was one, Aurelius in his life saw never none. He shewed him, ere they went to suppere, Forestes, parkes, full of wilde deer. There saw he hartes with their hornes high, The greatest that were ever seen with eye. He saw of them an hundred slain with hounds, And some with arrows bleed of bitter wounds. He saw, when voided* were the wilde deer, *passed away These falconers upon a fair rivere, That with their hawkes have the heron slain. Then saw he knightes jousting in a plain. And after this he did him such pleasance, That he him shew’d his lady on a dance, In which himselfe danced, as him thought. And when this master, that this magic wrought, Saw it was time, he clapp’d his handes two, And farewell, all the revel is y-go.* *gone, removed And yet remov’d they never out of the house, While they saw all the sightes marvellous; But in his study, where his bookes be, They satte still, and no wight but they three. To him this master called his squier,

And said him thus, “May we go to supper? Almost an hour it is, I undertake, Since I you bade our supper for to make, When that these worthy men wente with me Into my study, where my bookes be.” “Sir,” quoth this squier, “when it liketh you. It is all ready, though ye will right now.” “Go we then sup,” quoth he, “as for the best; These amorous folk some time must have rest.” At after supper fell they in treaty What summe should this master’s guerdon* be, *reward To remove all the rockes of Bretagne, And eke from Gironde <16> to the mouth of Seine. He made it strange,* and swore, so God him save, *a matter of Less than a thousand pound he would not have, difficulty* *Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon.* *see note <17>* Aurelius with blissful heart anon Answered thus; “Fie on a thousand pound! This wide world, which that men say is round, I would it give, if I were lord of it. This bargain is full-driv’n, for we be knit;* *agreed Ye shall be payed truly by my troth. But looke, for no negligence or sloth, Ye tarry us here no longer than to-morrow.” “Nay,” quoth the clerk, *“have here my faith to borrow.”* *I pledge my To bed is gone Aurelius when him lest, faith on it* And well-nigh all that night he had his rest, What for his labour, and his hope of bliss, His woeful heart *of penance had a liss.* *had a respite from suffering* Upon the morrow, when that it was day, Unto Bretagne they took the righte way, Aurelius and this magician beside, And be descended where they would abide: And this was, as the bookes me remember, The colde frosty season of December. Phoebus wax’d old, and hued like latoun,* *brass That in his hote declinatioun Shone as the burned gold, with streames* bright; *beams But now in Capricorn adown he light, Where as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn. The bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain, Destroyed have the green in every yard. *courtyard, garden Janus sits by the fire with double beard, And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine: Before him stands the brawn of tusked swine And “nowel”* crieth every lusty man *Noel <18> Aurelius, in all that ev’r he can, Did to his master cheer and reverence, And prayed him to do his diligence To bringe him out of his paines smart, Or with a sword that he would slit his heart. This subtle clerk such ruth* had on this man, *pity That night and day he sped him, that he can, To wait a time of his conclusion; This is to say, to make illusion, By such an appearance of jugglery (I know no termes of astrology), That she and every wight should ween and say, That of Bretagne the rockes were away, Or else they were sunken under ground. So at the last he hath a time found To make his japes* and his wretchedness *tricks Of such a *superstitious cursedness.* *detestable villainy* His tables Toletanes <19> forth he brought, Full well corrected, that there lacked nought, Neither his collect, nor his expanse years, Neither his rootes, nor his other gears, As be his centres, and his arguments, And his proportional convenients For his equations in everything. And by his eighte spheres in his working, He knew full well how far Alnath <20> was shove From the head of that fix’d Aries above, That in the ninthe sphere consider’d is. Full subtilly he calcul’d all this. When he had found his firste mansion, He knew the remnant by proportion; And knew the rising of his moone well, And in whose face, and term, and every deal; And knew full well the moone’s mansion Accordant to his operation; And knew also his other observances, For such illusions and such meschances,* *wicked devices As heathen folk used in thilke days. For which no longer made he delays; But through his magic, for a day or tway, <21> It seemed all the rockes were away.

Aurelius, which yet despaired is Whe’er* he shall have his love, or fare amiss, *whether Awaited night and day on this miracle: And when he knew that there was none obstacle, That voided* were these rockes every one, *removed Down at his master’s feet he fell anon, And said; “I, woeful wretch’d Aurelius, Thank you, my Lord, and lady mine Venus, That me have holpen from my cares cold.” And to the temple his way forth hath he hold, Where as he knew he should his lady see. And when he saw his time, anon right he With dreadful* heart and with full humble cheer** *fearful **mien Saluteth hath his sovereign lady dear. “My rightful Lady,” quoth this woeful man, “Whom I most dread, and love as I best can, And lothest were of all this world displease, Were’t not that I for you have such disease,* *distress, affliction That I must die here at your foot anon, Nought would I tell how me is woebegone. But certes either must I die or plain;* *bewail Ye slay me guilteless for very pain. But of my death though that ye have no ruth, Advise you, ere that ye break your truth: Repente you, for thilke God above, Ere ye me slay because that I you love. For, Madame, well ye wot what ye have hight;* *promised Not that I challenge anything of right Of you, my sovereign lady, but of grace: But in a garden yond’, in such a place, Ye wot right well what ye behighte* me, *promised And in mine hand your trothe plighted ye, To love me best; God wot ye saide so, Albeit that I unworthy am thereto; Madame, I speak it for th’ honour of you, More than to save my hearte’s life right now; I have done so as ye commanded me, And if ye vouchesafe, ye may go see. Do as you list, have your behest in mind, For, quick or dead, right there ye shall me find; In you hes all to *do me live or dey;* *cause me to But well I wot the rockes be away.” live or die*

He took his leave, and she astonish’d stood; In all her face was not one drop of blood: She never ween’d t’have come in such a trap. “Alas!” quoth she, “that ever this should hap! For ween’d I ne’er, by possibility, That such a monster or marvail might be; It is against the process of nature.” And home she went a sorrowful creature; For very fear unnethes* may she go. *scarcely She weeped, wailed, all a day or two, And swooned, that it ruthe was to see: But why it was, to no wight tolde she, For out of town was gone Arviragus. But to herself she spake, and saide thus, With face pale, and full sorrowful cheer, In her complaint, as ye shall after hear. “Alas!” quoth she, “on thee, Fortune, I plain,* *complain That unware hast me wrapped in thy chain, From which to scape, wot I no succour, Save only death, or elles dishonour; One of these two behoveth me to choose. But natheless, yet had I lever* lose *sooner, rather My life, than of my body have shame, Or know myselfe false, or lose my name; And with my death *I may be quit y-wis.* *I may certainly purchase Hath there not many a noble wife, ere this, my exemption* And many a maiden, slain herself, alas! Rather than with her body do trespass? Yes, certes; lo, these stories bear witness. <22> When thirty tyrants full of cursedness* *wickedness Had slain Phidon in Athens at the feast, They commanded his daughters to arrest, And bringe them before them, in despite, All naked, to fulfil their foul delight; And in their father’s blood they made them dance Upon the pavement, — God give them mischance. For which these woeful maidens, full of dread, Rather than they would lose their maidenhead, They privily *be start* into a well, *suddenly leaped And drowned themselves, as the bookes tell. They of Messene let inquire and seek Of Lacedaemon fifty maidens eke, On which they woulde do their lechery: But there was none of all that company That was not slain, and with a glad intent Chose rather for to die, than to assent To be oppressed* of her maidenhead. *forcibly bereft Why should I then to dien be in dread? Lo, eke the tyrant Aristoclides, That lov’d a maiden hight Stimphalides, When that her father slain was on a night, Unto Diana’s temple went she right, And hent* the image in her handes two, *caught, clasped From which image she woulde never go; No wight her handes might off it arace,* *pluck away by force Till she was slain right in the selfe* place. *same Now since that maidens hadde such despite To be defouled with man’s foul delight, Well ought a wife rather herself to sle,* *slay Than be defouled, as it thinketh me. What shall I say of Hasdrubale’s wife, That at Carthage bereft herself of life? For, when she saw the Romans win the town, She took her children all, and skipt adown Into the fire, and rather chose to die, Than any Roman did her villainy. Hath not Lucretia slain herself, alas! At Rome, when that she oppressed* was *ravished Of Tarquin? for her thought it was a shame To live, when she hadde lost her name. The seven maidens of Milesie also Have slain themselves for very dread and woe, Rather than folk of Gaul them should oppress. More than a thousand stories, as I guess, Could I now tell as touching this mattere. When Abradate was slain, his wife so dear <23> Herselfe slew, and let her blood to glide In Abradate’s woundes, deep and wide, And said, ‘My body at the leaste way There shall no wight defoul, if that I may.’ Why should I more examples hereof sayn? Since that so many have themselves slain, Well rather than they would defouled be, I will conclude that it is bet* for me *better To slay myself, than be defouled thus. I will be true unto Arviragus, Or elles slay myself in some mannere, As did Demotione’s daughter dear, Because she woulde not defouled be. O Sedasus, it is full great pity To reade how thy daughters died, alas! That slew themselves *for suche manner cas.* *in circumstances of As great a pity was it, or well more, the same kind* The Theban maiden, that for Nicanor Herselfe slew, right for such manner woe. Another Theban maiden did right so; For one of Macedon had her oppress’d, She with her death her maidenhead redress’d.* *vindicated What shall I say of Niceratus’ wife, That for such case bereft herself her life? How true was eke to Alcibiades His love, that for to dien rather chese,* *chose Than for to suffer his body unburied be? Lo, what a wife was Alceste?” quoth she. “What saith Homer of good Penelope? All Greece knoweth of her chastity. Pardie, of Laedamia is written thus, That when at Troy was slain Protesilaus, <24> No longer would she live after his day. The same of noble Porcia tell I may; Withoute Brutus coulde she not live, To whom she did all whole her hearte give. <25> The perfect wifehood of Artemisie <26> Honoured is throughout all Barbarie. O Teuta <27> queen, thy wifely chastity To alle wives may a mirror be.” <28>

Thus plained Dorigen a day or tway, Purposing ever that she woulde dey;* *die But natheless upon the thirde night Home came Arviragus, the worthy knight, And asked her why that she wept so sore. And she gan weepen ever longer more. “Alas,” quoth she, “that ever I was born! Thus have I said,” quoth she; “thus have I sworn. “ And told him all, as ye have heard before: It needeth not rehearse it you no more. This husband with glad cheer,* in friendly wise, *demeanour Answer’d and said, as I shall you devise.* *relate “Is there aught elles, Dorigen, but this?” “Nay, nay,” quoth she, “God help me so, *as wis* *assuredly* This is too much, an* it were Godde’s will.” *if “Yea, wife,” quoth he, “let sleepe what is still, It may be well par’venture yet to-day. Ye shall your trothe holde, by my fay. For, God so wisly* have mercy on me, *certainly *I had well lever sticked for to be,* *I had rather be slain* For very love which I to you have, But if ye should your trothe keep and save. Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.” But with that word he burst anon to weep, And said; “I you forbid, on pain of death, That never, while you lasteth life or breath, To no wight tell ye this misaventure; As I may best, I will my woe endure, Nor make no countenance of heaviness, That folk of you may deeme harm, or guess.” And forth he call’d a squier and a maid. “Go forth anon with Dorigen,” he said, “And bringe her to such a place anon.” They take their leave, and on their way they gon: But they not wiste why she thither went; He would to no wight telle his intent.

This squier, which that hight Aurelius, On Dorigen that was so amorous, Of aventure happen’d her to meet Amid the town, right in the quickest* street, *nearest As she was bound* to go the way forthright *prepared, going <29> Toward the garden, there as she had hight.* *promised And he was to the garden-ward also; For well he spied when she woulde go Out of her house, to any manner place; But thus they met, of aventure or grace, And he saluted her with glad intent, And asked of her whitherward she went. And she answered, half as she were mad, “Unto the garden, as my husband bade, My trothe for to hold, alas! alas!” Aurelius gan to wonder on this case, And in his heart had great compassion Of her, and of her lamentation, And of Arviragus, the worthy knight, That bade her hold all that she hadde hight; So loth him was his wife should break her truth* *troth, pledged word And in his heart he caught of it great ruth,* *pity Considering the best on every side, *That from his lust yet were him lever abide,* *see note <30>* Than do so high a churlish wretchedness* *wickedness Against franchise,* and alle gentleness; *generosity For which in fewe words he saide thus; “Madame, say to your lord Arviragus, That since I see the greate gentleness Of him, and eke I see well your distress, That him were lever* have shame (and that were ruth)** *rather **pity Than ye to me should breake thus your truth, I had well lever aye* to suffer woe, *forever Than to depart* the love betwixt you two. *sunder, split up I you release, Madame, into your hond, Quit ev’ry surement* and ev’ry bond, *surety That ye have made to me as herebeforn, Since thilke time that ye were born. Have here my truth, I shall you ne’er repreve* *reproach *Of no behest;* and here I take my leave, *of no (breach of) As of the truest and the beste wife promise* That ever yet I knew in all my life. But every wife beware of her behest; On Dorigen remember at the least. Thus can a squier do a gentle deed, As well as can a knight, withoute drede.”* *doubt

She thanked him upon her knees bare, And home unto her husband is she fare,* *gone And told him all, as ye have hearde said; And, truste me, he was so *well apaid,* *satisfied* That it were impossible me to write. Why should I longer of this case indite? Arviragus and Dorigen his wife In sov’reign blisse ledde forth their life; Ne’er after was there anger them between; He cherish’d her as though she were a queen, And she was to him true for evermore; Of these two folk ye get of me no more.

Aurelius, that his cost had *all forlorn,* *utterly lost* Cursed the time that ever he was born. “Alas!” quoth he, “alas that I behight* *promised Of pured* gold a thousand pound of weight *refined To this philosopher! how shall I do? I see no more, but that I am fordo.* *ruined, undone Mine heritage must I needes sell, And be a beggar; here I will not dwell, And shamen all my kindred in this place, But* I of him may gette better grace. *unless But natheless I will of him assay At certain dayes year by year to pay, And thank him of his greate courtesy. My trothe will I keep, I will not he.” With hearte sore he went unto his coffer, And broughte gold unto this philosopher, The value of five hundred pound, I guess, And him beseeched, of his gentleness, To grant him *dayes of* the remenant; *time to pay up* And said; “Master, I dare well make avaunt, I failed never of my truth as yet. For sickerly my debte shall be quit Towardes you how so that e’er I fare To go a-begging in my kirtle bare: But would ye vouchesafe, upon surety, Two year, or three, for to respite me, Then were I well, for elles must I sell Mine heritage; there is no more to tell.”

This philosopher soberly* answer’d, *gravely And saide thus, when he these wordes heard; “Have I not holden covenant to thee?” “Yes, certes, well and truely,” quoth he. “Hast thou not had thy lady as thee liked?” “No, no,” quoth he, and sorrowfully siked.* *sighed “What was the cause? tell me if thou can.” Aurelius his tale anon began, And told him all as ye have heard before, It needeth not to you rehearse it more. He said, “Arviragus of gentleness Had lever* die in sorrow and distress, *rather Than that his wife were of her trothe false.” The sorrow of Dorigen he told him als’,* *also How loth her was to be a wicked wife, And that she lever had lost that day her life; And that her troth she swore through innocence; She ne’er erst* had heard speak of apparence** *before **see note <31> That made me have of her so great pity, And right as freely as he sent her to me, As freely sent I her to him again: This is all and some, there is no more to sayn.”

The philosopher answer’d; “Leve* brother, *dear Evereach of you did gently to the other; Thou art a squier, and he is a knight, But God forbidde, for his blissful might, But if a clerk could do a gentle deed As well as any of you, it is no drede* *doubt Sir, I release thee thy thousand pound, As thou right now were crept out of the ground, Nor ever ere now haddest knowen me. For, Sir, I will not take a penny of thee For all my craft, nor naught for my travail;* *labour, pains Thou hast y-payed well for my vitaille; It is enough; and farewell, have good day.” And took his horse, and forth he went his way. Lordings, this question would I aske now, Which was the moste free,* as thinketh you? *generous <32> Now telle me, ere that ye farther wend. I can* no more, my tale is at an end. *know, can tell

Notes to The Franklin’s Tale

1. Well unnethes durst this knight for dread: This knight hardly dared, for fear (that she would not entertain his suit.)

2. “Ne woulde God never betwixt us twain, As in my guilt, were either war or strife” Would to God there may never be war or strife between us, through my fault.

3. Perhaps the true reading is “beteth” — prepares, makes ready, his wings for flight.

4. Penmark: On the west coast of Brittany, between Brest and L’Orient. The name is composed of two British words, “pen,” mountain, and “mark,” region; it therefore means the mountainous country

5. Cairrud: “The red city;” it is not known where it was situated.

6. Warished: cured; French, “guerir,” to heal, or recover from sickness.

7. Annoyeth: works mischief; from Latin, “nocco,” I hurt.

8. Virelays: ballads; the “virelai” was an ancient French poem of two rhymes.

9. Lucina the sheen: Diana the bright. See note 54 to the Knight’s Tale.

10. In a Latin poem, very popular in Chaucer’s time, Pamphilus relates his amour with Galatea, setting out with the idea adopted by our poet in the lines that follow.

11. Sursanure: A wound healed on the surface, but festering beneath.

12. Orleans: Where there was a celebrated and very famous university, afterwards eclipsed by that of Paris. It was founded by Philip le Bel in 1312.

13. Every halk and every hern: Every nook and corner, Anglo- Saxon, “healc,” a nook; “hyrn,” a corner.

14. Tregetoures: tricksters, jugglers. The word is probably derived — in “treget,” deceit or imposture — from the French “trebuchet,” a military machine; since it is evident that much and elaborate machinery must have been employed to produce the effects afterwards described. Another derivation is from the Low Latin, “tricator,” a deceiver.

15. Lissed of: eased of; released from; another form of “less” or “lessen.”

16. Gironde: The river, formed by the union of the Dordogne and Garonne, on which Bourdeaux stands.

17. Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon: And even for that sum he would not willingly go to work.

18. “Noel,” the French for Christmas — derived from “natalis,” and signifying that on that day Christ was born — came to be used as a festive cry by the people on solemn occasions.

19. Tables Toletanes: Toledan tables; the astronomical tables composed by order Of Alphonso II, King of Castile, about 1250 and so called because they were adapted to the city of Toledo.

20. “Alnath,” Says Mr Wright, was “the first star in the horns of Aries, whence the first mansion of the moon is named.”

21. Another and better reading is “a week or two.”

22. These stories are all taken from the book of St Jerome “Contra Jovinianum,” from which the Wife of Bath drew so many of her ancient instances. See note 1 to the prologue to the Wife of Bath’s Tale.