Chapter 10

'Nay,' quoth the king, 'dear madam, be not wroth; 700 I yield it up; but since I gave my oath, That this much-injured knight again should see; It must be done--I am a king,' said he, 'And one whose faith has ever sacred been--'

'And so has mine' (she said)--'I am a queen: Her answer she shall have, I undertake; And thus an end of all dispute I make. Try when you list; and you shall find, my lord, It is not in our sex to break our word.'

We leave them here in this heroic strain, 710 And to the knight our story turns again; Who in the garden, with his lovely May, Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay: This was his song, 'Oh kind and constant be; Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee.'

Thus singing as he went, at last he drew By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew: The longing dame look'd up, and spied her love Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above. She stopp'd, and sighing, 'O good gods!' she cried, 720 'What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side Oh for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green; Help, for the love of heaven's immortal queen! Help, dearest lord, and save at once the life Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!'

Sore sigh'd the knight to hear his lady's cry, But could not climb, and had no servant nigh: Old as he was, and void of eyesight too, What could, alas! a helpless husband do? 'And must I languish, then, (she said), and die, 730 Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye? At least, kind sir, for charity's sweet sake, Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take; Then from your back I might ascend the tree; Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.'

'With all my soul,' he thus replied again, 'I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.' With that his back against the trunk he bent; She seized a twig, and up the tree she went.

Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all! 740 Nor let on me your heavy anger fall: 'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrase refined; Though blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind. What feats the lady in the tree might do, I pass, as gambols never known to you; But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore, Than in her life she ever felt before.

In that nice moment, lo! the wondering knight Look'd out, and stood restored to sudden sight. Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent, 750 As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent; But when he saw his bosom-wife so dress'd, His rage was such as cannot be express'd: Not frantic mothers, when their infants die, With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: He cried, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair: 'Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there?'

'What ails my lord?' the trembling dame replied, 'I thought your patience had been better tried: Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, 760 This my reward for having cured the blind? Why was I taught to make my husband see, By struggling with a man upon a tree Did I for this the power of magic prove? Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!'

'If this be struggling, by this holy light, 'Tis struggling with a vengeance (quoth the knight): So Heaven preserve the sight it has restored, As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored; Whored by my slave--perfidious wretch! may hell 770 As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.'

'Guard me, good angels!' cried the gentle May, 'Pray heaven this magic work the proper way! Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see, You ne'er had used these killing words to me: So help me, Fates! as 'tis no perfect sight, But some faint glimmering of a doubtful light.'

'What I have said (quoth he) I must maintain, For by th' immortal powers it seem'd too plain--'

'By all those powers, some frenzy seized your mind 780 (Replied the dame), are these the thanks I find? Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind!' She said; a rising sigh express'd her woe, The ready tears apace began to flow, And, as they fell, she wiped from either eye The drops (for women, when they list, can cry).

The knight was touch'd; and in his looks appear'd Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheer'd: 'Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er! Come down, and vex your tender heart no more: 790 Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said, For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made: Let my repentance your forgiveness draw; By heaven, I swore but what I _thought_ I saw.'

'Ah, my loved lord! 'twas much unkind (she cried) On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride. But, till your sight's establish'd, for a while, Imperfect objects may your sense beguile. Thus, when from sleep we first our eyes display, The balls are wounded with the piercing ray, 800 And dusky vapours rise and intercept the day; So, just recovering from the shades of night, Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light, Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight. Then, sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem; Heaven knows how seldom things are what they seem! Consult your reason, and you soon shall find 'Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind: Jove ne'er spoke oracle more true than this, None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.' 810

With that she leap'd into her lord's embrace, With well-dissembled virtue in her face. He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er, Disturb'd with doubts and jealousies no more: Both, pleased and bless'd, renew'd their mutual vows: A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.

Thus ends our tale, whose moral next to make, Let all wise husbands hence example take; And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives, To be so well deluded by their wives. 820

THE WIFE OF BATH, HER PROLOGUE.

FROM CHAUCER.

Behold the woes of matrimonial life, And hear with reverence an experienced wife! To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due, And think, for once, a woman tells you true. In all these trials I have borne a part: I was myself the scourge that caused the smart; For, since fifteen, in triumph have I led Five captive husbands from the church to bed.

Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture says, And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days; 10 Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice, No pious Christian ought to marry twice.

But let them read, and solve me if they can, The words address'd to the Samaritan; Five times in lawful wedlock she was join'd, And sure the certain stint was ne'er defined.

'Increase and multiply' was Heaven's command, And that's a text I clearly understand: This, too, 'Let men their sires and mothers leave, And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.' 20 More wives than one by Solomon were tried, Or else the wisest of mankind's belied. I've had myself full many a merry fit, And trust in heaven I may have many yet; For when my transitory spouse, unkind, Shall die and leave his woful wife behind, I'll take the next good Christian I can find.

Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn, Declared 'twas better far to wed than burn. There's danger in assembling fire and tow; 30 I grant 'em that; and what it means you know. The same apostle, too, has elsewhere own'd No precept for virginity he found: 'Tis but a counsel--and we women still Take which we like, the counsel or our will.

I envy not their bliss, if he or she Think fit to live in perfect chastity: Pure let them be, and free from taint or vice; I for a few slight spots am not so nice. Heaven calls us different ways; on these bestows 40 One proper gift, another grants to those; Not every man's obliged to sell his store, And give up all his substance to the poor: Such as are perfect may, I can't deny; But, by your leaves, divines! so am not I.

Full many a saint, since first the world began, Lived an unspotted maid in spite of man: Let such (a God's name) with fine wheat be fed, And let us honest wives eat barley bread. For me, I'll keep the post assign'd by heaven, 50 And use the copious talent it has given: Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me right, And keep an equal reckoning every night; His proper body is not his, but mine; For so said Paul, and Paul's a sound divine.

Know then, of those five husbands I have had, Three were just tolerable, two were bad. The three were old, but rich and fond beside, And toil'd most piteously to please their bride; But since their wealth (the best they had) was mine, 60 The rest, without much loss, I could resign: Sure to be loved, I took no pains to please, Yet had more pleasure far than they had ease.

Presents flow'd in apace: with showers of gold They made their court, like Jupiter of old: If I but smiled, a sudden youth they found, And a new palsy seized them when I frown'd. Ye sovereign wives! give ear, and understand: Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command; For never was it given to mortal man 70 To lie so boldly as we women can: Forswear the fact, though seen with both his eyes, And call your maids to witness how he lies.

Hark, old Sir Paul! ('twas thus I used to say) Whence is our neighbour's wife so rich and gay Treated, caress'd, where'er she's pleased to roam-- I sit in tatters, and immured at home. Why to her house dost thou so oft repair? Art thou so amorous? and is she so fair? If I but see a cousin or a friend, 80 Lord! how you swell and rage, like any fiend! But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear, Then preach till midnight in your easy chair; Cry, Wives are false, and every woman evil, And give up all that's female to the devil. If poor (you say), she drains her husband's purse; If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse; If highly born, intolerably vain, Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain; Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic, 90 Freakish when well, and fretful when she's sick: If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide, By pressing youth attack'd on every side; If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures, Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures, Or else she dances with becoming grace, Or shape excuses the defects of face. There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late She finds some honest gander for her mate.

Horses (thou say'st) and asses men may try, 100 And ring suspected vessels ere they buy; But wives, a random choice, untried they take, They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake; Then, nor till then, the veil's removed away, And all the woman glares in open day.

You tell me, to preserve your wife's good grace, Your eyes must always languish on my face, Your tongue with constant flatteries feed my ear, And tag each sentence with 'My life! My dear!' If, by strange chance, a modest blush be raised, 110 Be sure my fine complexion must be praised. My garments always must be new and gay, And feasts still kept upon my wedding day. Then must my nurse be pleased, and favourite maid: And endless treats and endless visits paid To a long train of kindred, friends, allies: All this thou say'st, and all thou say'st are lies.

On Jenkin, too, you cast a squinting eye: What! can your 'prentice raise your jealousy? Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead fair, 120 And like the burnish'd gold his curling hair. But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy sorrow, I'd scorn your 'prentice should you die to-morrow.

Why are thy chests all lock'd? on what design? Are not thy worldly goods and treasures mine? Sir, I'm no fool; nor shall you, by St John, Have goods and body to yourself alone. One you shall quit, in spite of both your eyes-- I heed not, I, the bolts, the locks, the spies. If you had wit, you'd say, 'Go where you will, 130 Dear spouse! I credit not the tales they tell: Take all the freedoms of a married life; I know thee for a virtuous, faithful wife.'

Lord! when you have enough, what need you care How merrily soever others fare? Though all the day I give and take delight, Doubt not, sufficient will be left at night. 'Tis but a just and rational desire To light a taper at a neighbour's fire. There's danger too, you think, in rich array, 140 And none can long be modest that are gay. The cat, if you but singe her tabby skin, The chimney keeps, and sits content within: But once grown sleek, will from her corner run, Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun: She licks her fair round face, and frisks abroad To show her fur, and to be catterwaw'd.

Lo! thus, my friends, I wrought to my desires These three right ancient venerable sires. I told 'em, Thus you say, and thus you do; 150 And told 'em false, but Jenkin swore 'twas true. I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine, And first complain'd whene'er the guilt was mine. I tax'd them oft with wenching and amours, When their weak legs scarce dragg'd them out of doors And swore, the rambles that I took by night Were all to spy what damsels they bedight: That colour brought me many hours of mirth; For all this wit is given us from our birth. Heaven gave to woman the peculiar grace 160 To spin, to weep, and cully human race. By this nice conduct and this prudent course, By murmuring, wheedling, stratagem, and force, I still prevail'd, and would be in the right, Or curtain lectures made a restless night. If once my husband's arm was o'er my side, 'What! so familiar with your spouse?' I cried: I levied first a tax upon his need; Then let him--'twas a nicety indeed! Let all mankind this certain maxim hold; 170 Marry who will, our sex is to be sold. With empty hands no tassels you can lure, But fulsome love for gain we can endure; For gold we love the impotent and old, And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling, for gold. Yet with embraces curses oft I mix'd, Then kiss'd again, and chid, and rail'd betwixt. Well, I may make my will in peace, and die, For not one word in man's arrears am I. To drop a dear dispute I was unable, 180 E'en though the Pope himself had sat at table: But when my point was gain'd, then thus I spoke: 'Billy, my dear, how sheepishly you look! Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy cheek; Thou shouldst be always thus, resign'd and meek! Of Job's great patience since so oft you preach, Well should you practise who so well can teach. 'Tis difficult to do, I must allow, But I, my dearest! will instruct you how. Great is the blessing of a prudent wife, 190 Who puts a period to domestic strife. One of us two must rule, and one obey; And since in man right reason bears the sway, Let that frail thing, weak woman, have her way. The wives of all my family have ruled Their tender husbands, and their passions cool'd. Fye! 'tis unmanly thus to sigh and groan: What! would you have me to yourself alone? Why, take me, love! take all and every part! Here's your revenge! you love it at your heart. 200 Would I vouchsafe to sell what nature gave, You little think what custom I could have. But see! I'm all your own--nay, hold--for shame! What means my dear?--indeed, you are to blame.'

Thus with my first three lords I pass'd my life, A very woman, and a very wife. What sums from these old spouses I could raise, Procured young husbands in my riper days. Though past my bloom, not yet decay'd was I, Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a pie. 210 In country-dances still I bore the bell, And sung as sweet as evening Philomel. To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my soul, Full oft I drain'd the spicy nut-brown bowl; Rich luscious wines, that youthful blood improve, And warm the swelling veins to feats of love: For 'tis as sure as cold engenders hail, A liquorish mouth must have a lecherous tail: Wine lets no lover unrewarded go, As all true gamesters by experience know. 220

But oh, good gods! whene'er a thought I cast On all the joys of youth and beauty past, To find in pleasures I have had my part, Still warms me to the bottom of my heart. This wicked world was once my dear delight; Now, all my conquests, all my charms, good night! The flour consumed, the best that now I can Is e'en to make my market of the bran.

My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true; He kept, 'twas thought, a private miss or two: 230 But all that score I paid--As how? you'll say, Not with my body, in a filthy way; But I so dress'd, and danced, and drank, and dined, And view'd a friend with eyes so very kind, As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry, With burning rage and frantic jealousy His soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory, For here on earth I was his purgatory. Oft, when his shoe the most severely wrung, He put on careless airs, and sat and sung. 240 How sore I gall'd him only heaven could know, And he that felt, and I that caused the woe: He died, when last from pilgrimage I came, With other gossips from Jerusalem, And now lies buried underneath a rood, Fair to be seen, and rear'd of honest wood: A tomb, indeed, with fewer sculptures graced Than that Mausolus' pious widow placed, Or where enshrined the great Darius lay; But cost on graves is merely thrown away. 250 The pit fill'd up, with turf we cover'd o'er; So bless the good man's soul! I say no more.

Now for my fifth loved lord, the last and best; (Kind heaven afford him everlasting rest!) Full hearty was his love, and I can show The tokens on my ribs in black and blue; Yet with a knack my heart he could have won, While yet the smart was shooting in the bone. How quaint an appetite in woman reigns! Free gifts we scorn, and love what costs us pains: 260 Let men avoid us, and on them we leap; A glutted market makes provisions cheap.

In pure goodwill I took this jovial spark, Of Oxford he, a most egregious clerk. He boarded with a widow in the town, A trusty gossip, one dame Alison; Full well the secrets of my soul she knew, Better than e'er our parish priest could do. To her I told whatever could befall: Had but my husband piss'd against a wall, 270 Or done a thing that might have cost his life, She--and my niece--and one more worthy wife, Had known it all: what most he would conceal, To these I made no scruple to reveal. Oft has he blush'd from ear to ear for shame That e'er he told a secret to his dame.

It so befell, in holy time of Lent, That oft a day I to this gossip went; (My husband, thank my stars, was out of town) From house to house we rambled up and down, 280 This clerk, myself, and my good neighbour, Alse, To see, be seen, to tell, and gather tales. Visits to every church we daily paid, And march'd in every holy masquerade; The stations duly, and the vigils kept; Not much we fasted, but scarce ever slept. At sermons, too, I shone in scarlet gay: The wasting moth ne'er spoil'd my best array; The cause was this, I wore it every day.

'Twas when fresh May her early blossoms yields, 290 This clerk and I were walking in the fields. We grew so intimate, I can't tell how, I pawn'd my honour, and engaged my vow, If e'er I laid my husband in his urn, That he, and only he, should serve my turn. We straight struck hands, the bargain was agreed; I still have shifts against a time of need: The mouse that always trusts to one poor hole Can never be a mouse of any soul.

I vow'd I scarce could sleep since first I knew him, 300 And durst be sworn he had bewitch'd me to him If e'er I slept, I dream'd of him alone, And dreams foretell, as learned men have shown: All this I said; but dreams, sirs, I had none: I follow'd but my crafty crony's lore, Who bid me tell this lie--and twenty more.

Thus day by day, and month by mouth we pass'd; It pleased the Lord to take my spouse at last. I tore my gown, I soil'd my locks with dust, And beat my breasts, as wretched widows must. 310 Before my face my handkerchief I spread, To hide the flood of tears I did not shed. The good man's coffin to the church was borne; Around, the neighbours, and my clerk, too, mourn: But as he march'd, good gods! he show'd a pair Of legs and feet so clean, so strong, so fair! Of twenty winters' age he seem'd to be; I (to say truth) was twenty more than he; But vigorous still, a lively buxom dame, And had a wondrous gift to quench a flame. 320 A conjuror once, that deeply could divine, Assured me Mars in Taurus was my sign. As the stars order'd, such my life has been: Alas, alas! that ever love was sin! Fair Venus gave me fire and sprightly grace, And Mars assurance and a dauntless face. By virtue of this powerful constellation, I follow'd always my own inclination.

But to my tale: A month scarce pass'd away, With dance and song we kept the nuptial day. 330 All I possess'd I gave to his command, My goods and chattels, money, house, and land; But oft repented, and repent it still; He proved a rebel to my sovereign will; Nay, once, by heaven! he struck me on the face; Hear but the fact, and judge yourselves the case.

Stubborn as any lioness was I, And knew full well to raise my voice on high; As true a rambler as I was before, And would be so in spite of all he swore. 340 He against this right sagely would advise, And old examples set before my eyes; Tell how the Roman matrons led their life, Of Gracchus' mother, and Duilius' wife; And close the sermon, as beseem'd his wit, With some grave sentence out of Holy Writ. Oft would he say, 'Who builds his house on sands, Pricks his blind horse across the fallow lands; Or lets his wife abroad with pilgrims roam, Deserves a fool's cap and long ears at home.' 350 All this avail'd not, for whoe'er he be That tells my faults, I hate him mortally! And so do numbers more, I'll boldly say, Men, women, clergy, regular, and lay.

My spouse (who was, you know, to learning bred) A certain treatise oft at evening read, Where divers authors (whom the devil confound For all their lies) were in one volume bound: Valerius whole, and of St Jerome part; Chrysippus and Tertullian, Ovid's Art, 360 Solomon's Proverbs, Eloisa's Loves, And many more than, sure, the Church approves. More legends were there here of wicked wives Than good in all the Bible and saints' lives. Who drew the lion vanquish'd? 'Twas a man: But could we women write as scholars can, Men should stand mark'd with far more wickedness Than all the sons of Adam could redress. Love seldom haunts the breast where learning lies, And Venus sets ere Mercury can rise. 370 Those play the scholars who can't play the men, And use that weapon which they have, their pen: When old, and past the relish of delight, Then down they sit, and in their dotage write, That not one woman keeps her marriage-vow. (This by the way, but to my purpose now:)

It chanced my husband, on a winter's night, Read in this book aloud with strange delight, How the first female (as the Scriptures show) Brought her own spouse and all his race to woe; 380 How Samson fell; and he whom Dejanire Wrapp'd in th' envenom'd shirt, and set on fire; How cursed Eriphyle her lord betray'd, And the dire ambush Clytemnestra laid; But what most pleased him was the Cretan dame And husband-bull--Oh, monstrous! fye, for shame!

He had by heart the whole detail of woe Xantippe made her good man undergo; How oft she scolded in a day he knew, How many pisspots on the sage she threw; 390 Who took it patiently, and wiped his head: 'Rain follows thunder,' that was all he said.

He read how Arius to his friend complain'd A fatal tree was growing in his land, On which three wives successively had twined A sliding noose, and waver'd in the wind. 'Where grows this plant,' replied the friend, 'oh! where? For better fruit did never orchard bear: Give me some slip of this most blissful tree, And in my garden planted it shall be!' 400