Chapter 39

When Dame Prudence had heard the answer of these men, she bade them go again privily, and she returned to her lord Melibœus, and told him how she found his adversaries full repentant, acknowledging full lowly their sins and trespasses, and how they were ready to suffer all pain, requiring and praying him of mercy and pity. Then said Melibœus, “He is well worthy to have pardon and forgiveness of his sin, that excuseth not his sin, but acknowledgeth, and repenteth him, asking indulgence. For Seneca saith, ‘There is the remission and forgiveness, where the confession is; for confession is neighbour to innocence.’ And therefore I assent and confirm me to have peace, but it is good that we do naught without the assent and will of our friends.” Then was Prudence right glad and joyful, and said, “Certes, Sir, ye be well and goodly advised; for right as by the counsel, assent, and help of your friends ye have been stirred to avenge you and make war, right so without their counsel shall ye not accord you, nor have peace with your adversaries. For the law saith, ‘There is nothing so good by way of kind, [nature] as a thing to be unbound by him that it was bound.’”

And then Dame Prudence, without delay or tarrying, sent anon her messengers for their kin and for their old friends, which were true and wise; and told them by order, in the presence of Melibœus, all this matter, as it is above expressed and declared; and prayed them that they would give their advice and counsel what were best to do in this need. And when Melibœus’ friends had taken their advice and deliberation of the foresaid matter, and had examined it by great business and great diligence, they gave full counsel for to have peace and rest, and that Melibœus should with good heart receive his adversaries to forgiveness and mercy. And when Dame Prudence had heard the assent of her lord Melibœus, and the counsel of his friends, accord with her will and her intention, she was wondrous glad in her heart, and said: “There is an old proverb that saith, ‘The goodness that thou mayest do this day, do it, and abide not nor delay it not till to-morrow:’ and therefore I counsel you that ye send your messengers, such as be discreet and wise, unto your adversaries, telling them on your behalf, that if they will treat of peace and of accord, that they shape [prepare] them, without delay or tarrying, to come unto us.” Which thing performed was indeed. And when these trespassers and repenting folk of their follies, that is to say, the adversaries of Melibœus, had heard what these messengers said unto them, they were right glad and joyful, and answered full meekly and benignly, yielding graces and thanks to their lord Melibœus, and to all his company; and shaped them without delay to go with the messengers, and obey to the commandment of their lord Melibœus. And right anon they took their way to the court of Melibœus, and took with them some of their true friends, to make faith for them, and for to be their borrows [sureties].

And when they were come to the presence of Melibœus, he said to them these words; “It stands thus,” quoth Melibœus, “and sooth it is, that ye causeless, and without skill and reason, have done great injuries and wrongs to me, and to my wife Prudence, and to my daughter also; for ye have entered into my house by violence, and have done such outrage, that all men know well that ye have deserved the death: and therefore will I know and weet of you, whether ye will put the punishing and chastising, and the vengeance of this outrage, in the will of me and of my wife, or ye will not?” Then the wisest of them three answered for them all, and said; “Sir,” quoth he, “we know well, that we be I unworthy to come to the court of so great a lord and so worthy as ye be, for we have so greatly mistaken us, and have offended and aguilt [incurred guilt] in such wise against your high lordship, that truly we have deserved the death. But yet for the great goodness and debonairte [courtesy, gentleness] that all the world witnesseth of your person, we submit us to the excellence and benignity of your gracious lordship, and be ready to obey to all your commandments, beseeching you, that of your merciable [merciful] pity ye will consider our great repentance and low submission, and grant us forgiveness of our outrageous trespass and offence; for well we know, that your liberal grace and mercy stretch them farther into goodness, than do our outrageous guilt and trespass into wickedness; albeit that cursedly [wickedly] and damnably we have aguilt [incurred guilt] against your high lordship.” Then Melibœus took them up from the ground full benignly, and received their obligations and their bonds, by their oaths upon their pledges and borrows, [sureties] and assigned them a certain day to return unto his court for to receive and accept sentence and judgement, that Melibœus would command to be done on them, by the causes aforesaid; which things ordained, every man returned home to his house.

And when that Dame Prudence saw her time she freined [inquired] and asked her lord Melibœus, what vengeance he thought to take of his adversaries. To which Melibœus answered, and said; “Certes,” quoth he, “I think and purpose me fully to disinherit them of all that ever they have, and for to put them in exile for evermore.” “Certes,” quoth Dame Prudence, “this were a cruel sentence, and much against reason. For ye be rich enough, and have no need of other men’s goods; and ye might lightly [easily] in this wise get you a covetous name, which is a vicious thing, and ought to be eschewed of every good man: for, after the saying of the Apostle, covetousness is root of all harms. And therefore it were better for you to lose much good of your own, than for to take of their good in this manner. For better it is to lose good with worship [honour], than to win good with villainy and shame. And every man ought to do his diligence and his business to get him a good name. And yet [further] shall he not only busy him in keeping his good name, but he shall also enforce him alway to do some thing by which he may renew his good name; for it is written, that the old good los [reputation <5>] of a man is soon gone and passed, when it is not renewed. And as touching that ye say, that ye will exile your adversaries, that thinketh ye much against reason, and out of measure, [moderation] considered the power that they have given you upon themselves. And it is written, that he is worthy to lose his privilege, that misuseth the might and the power that is given him. And I set case [if I assume] ye might enjoin them that pain by right and by law (which I trow ye may not do), I say, ye might not put it to execution peradventure, and then it were like to return to the war, as it was before. And therefore if ye will that men do you obeisance, ye must deem [decide] more courteously, that is to say, ye must give more easy sentences and judgements. For it is written, ‘He that most courteously commandeth, to him men most obey.’ And therefore I pray you, that in this necessity and in this need ye cast you [endeavour, devise a way] to overcome your heart. For Seneca saith, that he that overcometh his heart, overcometh twice. And Tullius saith, ‘There is nothing so commendable in a great lord, as when he is debonair and meek, and appeaseth him lightly [easily].’ And I pray you, that ye will now forbear to do vengeance, in such a manner, that your good name may be kept and conserved, and that men may have cause and matter to praise you of pity and of mercy; and that ye have no cause to repent you of thing that ye do. For Seneca saith, ‘He overcometh in an evil manner, that repenteth him of his victory.’ Wherefore I pray you let mercy be in your heart, to the effect and intent that God Almighty have mercy upon you in his last judgement; for Saint James saith in his Epistle, ‘Judgement without mercy shall be done to him, that hath no mercy of another wight.’”

When Melibœus had heard the great skills [arguments, reasons] and reasons of Dame Prudence, and her wise information and teaching, his heart gan incline to the will of his wife, considering her true intent, he conformed him anon and assented fully to work after her counsel, and thanked God, of whom proceedeth all goodness and all virtue, that him sent a wife of so great discretion. And when the day came that his adversaries should appear in his presence, he spake to them full goodly, and said in this wise; “Albeit so, that of your pride and high presumption and folly, an of your negligence and unconning, [ignorance] ye have misborne [misbehaved] you, and trespassed [done injury] unto me, yet forasmuch as I see and behold your great humility, and that ye be sorry and repentant of your guilts, it constraineth me to do you grace and mercy. Wherefore I receive you into my grace, and forgive you utterly all the offences, injuries, and wrongs, that ye have done against me and mine, to this effect and to this end, that God of his endless mercy will at the time of our dying forgive us our guilts, that we have trespassed to him in this wretched world; for doubtless, if we be sorry and repentant of the sins and guilts which we have trespassed in the sight of our Lord God, he is so free and so merciable [merciful], that he will forgive us our guilts, and bring us to the bliss that never hath end.” Amen.

Notes to Chaucer’s Tale of Melibœus.

1. The Tale of Melibœus is literally translated from a French story, or rather “treatise,” in prose, entitled “Le Livre de Melibee et de Dame Prudence,” of which two manuscripts, both dating from the fifteenth century, are preserved in the British Museum. Tyrwhitt, justly enough, says of it that it is indeed, as Chaucer called it in the prologue, “‘a moral tale virtuous,’ and was probably much esteemed in its time; but, in this age of levity, I doubt some readers will be apt to regret that he did not rather give us the remainder of Sir Thopas.” It has been remarked that in the earlier portion of the Tale, as it left the hand of the poet, a number of blank verses were intermixed; though this peculiarity of style, noticeable in any case only in the first 150 or 200 lines, has necessarily all but disappeared by the changes of spelling made in the modern editions. The Editor’s purpose being to present to the public not “The Canterbury Tales” merely, but “The Poems of Chaucer,” so far as may be consistent with the limits of this volume, he has condensed the long reasonings and learned quotations of Dame Prudence into a mere outline, connecting those portions of the Tale wherein lies so much of story as it actually possesses, and the general reader will probably not regret the sacrifice, made in the view of retaining so far as possible the completeness of the Tales, while lessening the intrusion of prose into a volume or poems. The good wife of Melibœus literally overflows with quotations from David, Solomon, Jesus the Son of Sirach, the Apostles, Ovid, Cicero, Seneca, Cassiodorus, Cato, Petrus Alphonsus — the converted Spanish Jew, of the twelfth century, who wrote the “Disciplina Clericalis” — and other authorities; and in some passages, especially where husband and wife debate the merits or demerits of women, and where Prudence dilates on the evils of poverty, Chaucer only reproduces much that had been said already in the Tales that preceded — such as the Merchant’s and the Man of Law’s.

2. The lines which follow are a close translation of the original Latin, which reads: “Quis matrem, nisi mentis inops, in funere nati Flere vetet? non hoc illa monenda loco. Cum dederit lacrymas, animumque expleverit aegrum, Ille dolor verbis emoderandus erit.” Ovid, “Remedia Amoris,” 127-131.

3. See the conversation between Pluto and Proserpine, in the Merchant’s Tale.

4. “Thy name,” she says, “is Melibœus; that is to say, a man that drinketh honey.”

5. Los: reputation; from the past participle of the Anglo-Saxon, “hlisan” to celebrate. Compare Latin, “laus.”

THE MONK’S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE

WHEN ended was my tale of Melibee, And of Prudence and her benignity, Our Hoste said, “As I am faithful man, And by the precious corpus Madrian,<1> I had lever* than a barrel of ale, *rather That goode lefe* my wife had heard this tale; *dear For she is no thing of such patience As was this Melibœus’ wife Prudence. By Godde’s bones! when I beat my knaves She bringeth me the greate clubbed staves, And crieth, ‘Slay the dogges every one, And break of them both back and ev’ry bone.’ And if that any neighebour of mine Will not in church unto my wife incline, Or be so hardy to her to trespace,* *offend When she comes home she rampeth* in my face, *springs And crieth, ‘False coward, wreak* thy wife *avenge By corpus Domini, I will have thy knife, And thou shalt have my distaff, and go spin.’ From day till night right thus she will begin. ‘Alas!’ she saith, ‘that ever I was shape* *destined To wed a milksop, or a coward ape, That will be overlad* with every wight! *imposed on Thou darest not stand by thy wife’s right.’

“This is my life, *but if* that I will fight; *unless And out at door anon I must me dight,* *betake myself Or elles I am lost, but if that I Be, like a wilde lion, fool-hardy. I wot well she will do* me slay some day *make Some neighebour and thenne *go my way;* *take to flight* For I am perilous with knife in hand, Albeit that I dare not her withstand; For she is big in armes, by my faith! That shall he find, that her misdoth or saith. <2> But let us pass away from this mattere. My lord the Monk,” quoth he, “be merry of cheer, For ye shall tell a tale truely. Lo, Rochester stands here faste by. Ride forth, mine owen lord, break not our game. But by my troth I cannot tell your name; Whether shall I call you my lord Dan John, Or Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon? Of what house be ye, by your father’s kin? I vow to God, thou hast a full fair skin; It is a gentle pasture where thou go’st; Thou art not like a penant* or a ghost. *penitent Upon my faith thou art some officer, Some worthy sexton, or some cellarer. For by my father’s soul, *as to my dome,* *in my judgement* Thou art a master when thou art at home; No poore cloisterer, nor no novice, But a governor, both wily and wise, And therewithal, of brawnes* and of bones, *sinews A right well-faring person for the nonce. I pray to God give him confusion That first thee brought into religion. Thou would’st have been a treade-fowl* aright; *cock Hadst thou as greate leave, as thou hast might, To perform all thy lust in engendrure,* *generation, begettting Thou hadst begotten many a creature. Alas! why wearest thou so wide a cope? <3> God give me sorrow, but, an* I were pope, *if Not only thou, but every mighty man, Though he were shorn full high upon his pan,* <4> *crown Should have a wife; for all this world is lorn;* *undone, ruined Religion hath ta’en up all the corn Of treading, and we borel* men be shrimps: *lay Of feeble trees there come wretched imps.* *shoots <5> This maketh that our heires be so slender And feeble, that they may not well engender. This maketh that our wives will assay Religious folk, for they may better pay Of Venus’ payementes than may we: God wot, no lusheburghes <6> paye ye. But be not wroth, my lord, though that I play; Full oft in game a sooth have I heard say.”

This worthy Monk took all in patience, And said, “I will do all my diligence, As far as *souneth unto honesty,* *agrees with good manners* To telle you a tale, or two or three. And if you list to hearken hitherward, I will you say the life of Saint Edward; Or elles first tragedies I will tell, Of which I have an hundred in my cell. Tragedy *is to say* a certain story, *means* As olde bookes maken us memory, Of him that stood in great prosperity, And is y-fallen out of high degree In misery, and endeth wretchedly. And they be versified commonly Of six feet, which men call hexametron; In prose eke* be indited many a one, *also And eke in metre, in many a sundry wise. Lo, this declaring ought enough suffice. Now hearken, if ye like for to hear. But first I you beseech in this mattere, Though I by order telle not these things, Be it of popes, emperors, or kings, *After their ages,* as men written find, *in chronological order* But tell them some before and some behind, As it now cometh to my remembrance, Have me excused of mine ignorance.”

Notes to the Prologue to The Monk’s Tale

1. The Corpus Madrian: the body of St. Maternus, of Treves.

2. That her misdoth or saith: that does or says any thing to offend her.

3. Cope: An ecclesiastcal vestment covering all the body like a cloak.

4. Though he were shorn full high upon his pan: though he were tonsured, as the clergy are.

5. Imps: shoots, branches; from Anglo-Saxon, “impian,” German, “impfen,” to implant, ingraft. The word is now used in a very restricted sense, to signify the progeny, children, of the devil.

6. Lusheburghes: base or counterfeit coins; so called because struck at Luxemburg. A great importation of them took place during the reigns of the earlier Edwards, and they caused much annoyance and complaint, till in 1351 it was declared treason to bring them into the country.

THE TALE. <1>

I will bewail, in manner of tragedy, The harm of them that stood in high degree, And felle so, that there was no remedy To bring them out of their adversity. For, certain, when that Fortune list to flee, There may no man the course of her wheel hold: Let no man trust in blind prosperity; Beware by these examples true and old.

At LUCIFER, though he an angel were, And not a man, at him I will begin. For though Fortune may no angel dere,* *hurt From high degree yet fell he for his sin Down into hell, where as he yet is in. O Lucifer! brightest of angels all, Now art thou Satanas, that may’st not twin* *depart Out of the misery in which thou art fall.

Lo ADAM, in the field of Damascene <2> With Godde’s owen finger wrought was he, And not begotten of man’s sperm unclean; And welt* all Paradise saving one tree: *commanded Had never worldly man so high degree As Adam, till he for misgovernance* *misbehaviour Was driven out of his prosperity To labour, and to hell, and to mischance.

Lo SAMPSON, which that was annunciate By the angel, long ere his nativity; <3> And was to God Almighty consecrate, And stood in nobless while that he might see; Was never such another as was he, To speak of strength, and thereto hardiness;* *courage But to his wives told he his secre, Through which he slew himself for wretchedness.

Sampson, this noble and mighty champion, Withoute weapon, save his handes tway, He slew and all to-rente* the lion, *tore to pieces Toward his wedding walking by the way. His false wife could him so please, and pray, Till she his counsel knew; and she, untrue, Unto his foes his counsel gan bewray, And him forsook, and took another new.

Three hundred foxes Sampson took for ire, And all their tailes he together band, And set the foxes’ tailes all on fire, For he in every tail had knit a brand, And they burnt all the combs of that lend, And all their oliveres* and vines eke. *olive trees <4> A thousand men he slew eke with his hand, And had no weapon but an ass’s cheek.

When they were slain, so thirsted him, that he Was *well-nigh lorn,* for which he gan to pray *near to perishing* That God would on his pain have some pity, And send him drink, or elles must he die; And of this ass’s check, that was so dry, Out of a wang-tooth* sprang anon a well, *cheek-tooth Of which, he drank enough, shortly to say. Thus help’d him God, as Judicum <5> can tell.

By very force, at Gaza, on a night, Maugre* the Philistines of that city, *in spite of The gates of the town he hath up plight,* *plucked, wrenched And on his back y-carried them hath he High on an hill, where as men might them see. O noble mighty Sampson, lefe* and dear, *loved Hadst thou not told to women thy secre, In all this world there had not been thy peer.

This Sampson never cider drank nor wine, Nor on his head came razor none nor shear, By precept of the messenger divine; For all his strengthes in his haires were; And fully twenty winters, year by year, He had of Israel the governance; But soone shall he weepe many a tear, For women shall him bringe to mischance.

Unto his leman* Dalila he told, *mistress That in his haires all his strengthe lay; And falsely to his foemen she him sold, And sleeping in her barme* upon a day *lap She made to clip or shear his hair away, And made his foemen all his craft espien. And when they founde him in this array, They bound him fast, and put out both his eyen.

But, ere his hair was clipped or y-shave, There was no bond with which men might him bind; But now is he in prison in a cave, Where as they made him at the querne* grind. *mill <6> O noble Sampson, strongest of mankind! O whilom judge in glory and richess! Now may’st thou weepe with thine eyen blind, Since thou from weal art fall’n to wretchedness.

Th’end of this caitiff* was as I shall say; *wretched man His foemen made a feast upon a day, And made him as their fool before them play; And this was in a temple of great array. But at the last he made a foul affray, For he two pillars shook, and made them fall, And down fell temple and all, and there it lay, And slew himself and eke his foemen all;

This is to say, the princes every one; And eke three thousand bodies were there slain With falling of the great temple of stone. Of Sampson now will I no more sayn; Beware by this example old and plain, That no man tell his counsel to his wife Of such thing as he would *have secret fain,* *wish to be secret* If that it touch his limbes or his life.

Of HERCULES the sov’reign conquerour Singe his workes’ land and high renown; For in his time of strength he bare the flow’r. He slew and reft the skin of the lion He of the Centaurs laid the boast adown; He Harpies <7> slew, the cruel birdes fell; He golden apples reft from the dragon He drew out Cerberus the hound of hell.

He slew the cruel tyrant Busirus. <8> And made his horse to fret* him flesh and bone; *devour He slew the fiery serpent venomous; Of Achelous’ two hornes brake he one. And he slew Cacus in a cave of stone; He slew the giant Antaeus the strong; He slew the grisly boar, and that anon; And bare the heav’n upon his necke long. <9>

Was never wight, since that the world began, That slew so many monsters as did he; Throughout the wide world his name ran, What for his strength, and for his high bounte; And every realme went he for to see; He was so strong that no man might him let;* *withstand At both the worlde’s ends, as saith Trophee, <10> Instead of boundes he a pillar set.

A leman had this noble champion, That highte Dejanira, fresh as May; And, as these clerkes make mention, She hath him sent a shirte fresh and gay; Alas! this shirt, alas and well-away! Envenomed was subtilly withal, That ere that he had worn it half a day, It made his flesh all from his bones fall.