The Canterbury Tales ~ Modern English - 31: The Tale Of The Wife Of Bath

The Tale Of The Wife Of Bath
Modern English


1	Now in the olden days of King Arthur,
2	Of whom the Britons speak with great honour,
3	All this wide land was land of faery.
4	The elf-queen, with her jolly company,
5	Danced oftentimes on many a green mead;
6	This was the old opinion, as I read.
7	I speak of many hundred years ago;
8	But now no man can see the elves, you know.
9	For now the so-great charity and prayers
10	Of limiters and other holy friars
11	That do infest each land and every stream
12	As thick as motes are in a bright sunbeam,
13	Blessing halls, chambers, kitchens, ladies' bowers,
14	Cities and towns and castles and high towers,
15	Manors and barns and stables, aye and dairies-
16	This causes it that there are now no fairies.
17	For where was wont to walk full many an elf,
18	Right there walks now the limiter himself
19	In noons and afternoons and in mornings,
20	Saying his matins and such holy things,
21	As he goes round his district in his gown.
22	Women may now go safely up and down,
23	In every copse or under every tree;
24	There is no other incubus, than he,
25	And would do them nothing but dishonour.
26	And so befell it that this King Arthur
27	Had at his court a lusty bachelor
28	Who, on a day, came riding from river;
29	And happened that, alone as she was born,
30	He saw a maiden walking through the corn,
31	From whom, in spite of all she did and said,
32	Straightway by force he took her maidenhead;
33	For which violation was there such clamour,
34	And such appealing unto King Arthur,
35	That soon condemned was this knight to be dead
36	By course of law, and should have lost his head,
37	Peradventure, such being the statute then;
38	But that the other ladies and the queen
39	So long prayed of the king to show him grace,
40	He granted life, at last, in the law's place,
41	And gave him to the queen, as she should will,
42	Whether she'd save him, or his blood should spill.
43	The queen she thanked the king with all her might,
44	And after this, thus spoke she to the knight,
45	When she'd an opportunity, one day:
46	You stand yet, said she, in such poor a way
47	That for your life you've no security.
48	I'll grant you life if you can tell to me
49	What thing it is that women most desire.
50	Be wise, and keep your neck from iron dire!
51	And if you cannot tell it me anon,
52	Then will I give you license to be gone
53	A twelvemonth and a day, to search and learn
54	Sufficient answer in this grave concern.
55	And your knight's word I'll have, ere forth you pace,
56	To yield your body to me in this place.
57	Grieved was this knight, and sorrowfully he sighed;
58	But there! he could not do as pleased his pride.
59	And at the last he chose that he would wend
60	And come again upon the twelvemonth's end,
61	With such an answer as God might purvey;
62	And so he took his leave and went his way.
63	He sought out every house and every place
64	Wherein he hoped to find that he had grace
65	To learn what women love the most of all;
66	But nowhere ever did it him befall
67	To find, upon the question stated here,
68	Two, persons who agreed with statement clear.
69	Some said that women all loved best riches,
70	Some said, fair fame, and some said, prettiness;
71	Some, rich array, some said 'twas lust abed
72	And often to be widowed and re-wed.
73	Some said that our poor hearts are aye most eased
74	When we have been most flattered and thus pleased
75	And he went near the truth, I will not lie;
76	A man may win us best with flattery;
77	And with attentions and with busyness
78	We're often limed, the greater and the less.
79	And some say, too, that we do love the best
80	To be quite free to do our own behest,
81	And that no man reprove us for our vice,
82	But saying we are wise, take our advice.
83	For truly there is no one of us all,
84	If anyone shall rub us on a gall,
85	That will not kick because he tells the truth.
86	Try, and he'll find, who does so, I say sooth.
87	No matter how much vice we have within,
88	We would be held for wise and clean of sin.
89	And some folk say that great delight have we
90	To be held constant, also trustworthy,
91	And on one purpose steadfastly to dwell,
92	And not betray a thing that men may tell.
93	But that tale is not worth a rake's handle;
94	By God, we women can no thing conceal,
95	As witness Midas. Would you hear the tale?
96	Ovid, among some other matters small,
97	Said Midas had beneath his long curled hair,
98	Two ass's ears that grew in secret there,
99	The which defect he hid, as best he might,
100	Full cunningly from every person's sight,
101	And, save his wife, no one knew of it, no.
102	He loved her most, and trusted her also;
103	And he prayed of her that to no creature
104	She'd tell of his disfigurement impure.
105	She swore him: Nay, for all this world to win
106	She would do no such villainy or sin
107	And cause her husband have so foul a name;
108	Nor would she tell it for her own deep shame.
109	Nevertheless, she thought she would have died
110	Because so long the secret must she hide;
111	It seemed to swell so big about her heart
112	That some word from her mouth must surely start;
113	And since she dared to tell it to no man,
114	Down to a marsh, that lay hard by, she ran;
115	Till she came there her heart was all afire,
116	And as a bittern booms in the quagmire,
117	She laid her mouth low to the water down:
118	Betray me not, you sounding water blown,
119	Said she, I tell it to none else but you:
120	Long ears like asses' has my husband two!
121	Now is my heart at ease, since that is out;
122	I could no longer keep it, there's no doubt.
123	Here may you see, though for a while we bide,
124	Yet out it must; no secret can we hide.
125	The rest of all this tale, if you would hear,
126	Read Ovid: in his book does it appear.
127	This knight my tale is chiefly told about
128	When what he went for he could not find out,
129	That is, the thing that women love the best,
130	Most saddened was the spirit in his breast;
131	But home he goes, he could no more delay.
132	The day was come when home he turned his way;
133	And on his way it chanced that he should ride
134	In all his care, beneath a forest's side,
135	And there he saw, a-dancing him before,
136	Full four and twenty ladies, maybe more;
137	Toward which dance eagerly did he turn
138	In hope that there some wisdom he should learn.
139	But truly, ere he came upon them there,
140	The dancers vanished all, he knew not where.
141	No creature saw he that gave sign of life,
142	Save, on the greensward sitting, an old wife;
143	A fouler person could no man devise.
144	Before the knight this old wife did arise,
145	And said: Sir knight, hence lies no travelled way.
146	Tell me what thing you seek, and by your fay.
147	Perchance you'll find it may the better be;
148	These ancient folk know many things, said she.
149	Dear mother, said this knight assuredly,
150	I am but dead, save I can tell, truly,
151	What thing it is that women most desire;
152	Could you inform me, I'd pay well your hire.
153	Plight me your troth here, hand in hand, said she,
154	That you will do, whatever it may be,
155	The thing I ask if it lie in your might;
156	And I'll give you your answer ere the night.
157	Have here my word, said he. That thing I grant.
158	Then, said the crone, of this I make my vaunt,
159	Your life is safe; and I will stand thereby,
160	Upon my life, the queen will say as I.
161	Let's see which is the proudest of them all
162	That wears upon her hair kerchief or caul,
163	Shall dare say no to that which I shall teach;
164	Let us go now and without longer speech.
165	Then whispered she a sentence in his ear,
166	And bade him to be glad and have no fear.
167	When they were come unto the court, this knight
168	Said he had kept his promise as was right,
169	And ready was his answer, as he said.
170	Full many a noble wife, and many a maid,
171	And many a widow, since they are so wise,
172	The queen herself sitting as high justice,
173	Assembled were, his answer there to hear;
174	And then the knight was bidden to appear.
175	Command was given for silence in the hall,
176	And that the knight should tell before them all
177	What thing all worldly women love the best.
178	This knight did not stand dumb, as does a beast,
179	But to this question presently answered
180	With manly voice, so that the whole court heard:
181	My liege lady, generally, said he,
182	Women desire to have the sovereignty
183	As well upon their husband as their love,
184	And to have mastery their man above;
185	This thing you most desire, though me you kill
186	Do as you please, I am here at your will.
187	In all the court there was no wife or maid
188	Or widow that denied the thing he said,
189	But all held, he was worthy to have life.
190	And with that word up started the old wife
191	Whom he had seen a-sitting on the green.
192	Mercy, cried she, my sovereign lady queen!
193	Before the court's dismissed, give me my right.
194	'Twas I who taught the answer to this knight;
195	For which he did plight troth to me, out there,
196	That the first thing I should of him require
197	He would do that, if it lay in his might.
198	Before the court, now, pray I you, sir knight,
199	Said she, that you will take me for your wife;
200	For well you know that I have saved your life.
201	If this be false, say nay, upon your fay!
202	This knight replied: Alas and welaway!
203	That I so promised I will not protest.
204	But for God's love pray make a new request.
205	Take all my wealth and let my body go.
206	Nay then, said she, beshrew us if I do!
207	For though I may be foul and old and poor,
208	I will not, for all metal and all ore
209	That from the earth is dug or lies above,
210	Be aught except your wife and your true love.
211	My love? cried he, nay, rather my damnation!
212	Alas! that any of my race and station
213	Should ever so dishonoured foully be!
214	But all for naught; the end was this, that he
215	Was so constrained he needs must go and wed,
216	And take his ancient wife and go to bed.
217	Now, peradventure, would some men say here,
218	That, of my negligence, I take no care
219	To tell you of the joy and all the array
220	That at the wedding feast were seen that day.
221	Make a brief answer to this thing I shall;
222	I say, there was no joy or feast at all;
223	There was but heaviness and grievous sorrow;
224	For privately he wedded on the morrow,
225	And all day, then, he hid him like an owl;
226	So sad he was, his old wife looked so foul.
227	Great was the woe the knight had in his thought
228	When he, with her, to marriage bed was brought;
229	He rolled about and turned him to and fro.
230	His old wife lay there, always smiling so,
231	And said: O my dear husband, ben'cite!
232	Fares every knight with wife as you with me?
233	Is this the custom in King Arthur's house?
234	Are knights of his all so fastidious?
235	I am your own true love and, more, your wife;
236	And I am she who saved your very life;
237	And truly, since I've never done you wrong,
238	Why do you treat me so, this first night long?
239	You act as does a man who's lost his wit;
240	What is my fault? For God's love tell me it,
241	And it shall be amended, if I may.
242	Amended! cried this knight, Alas, nay, nay!
243	It will not be amended ever, no!
244	You are so loathsome, and so old also,
245	And therewith of so low a race were born,
246	It's little wonder that I toss and turn.
247	Would God my heart would break within my breast!
248	Is this, asked she, the cause of your unrest?
249	Yes, truly, said he, and no wonder 'tis.
250	Now, sir, said she, I could amend all this,
251	If I but would, and that within days three,
252	If you would bear yourself well towards me.
253	But since you speak of such gentility
254	As is descended from old wealth, till ye
255	Claim that for that you should be gentlemen,
256	I hold such arrogance not worth a hen.
257	Find him who is most virtuous alway,
258	Alone or publicly, and most tries aye
259	To do whatever noble deeds he can,
260	And take him for the greatest gentleman.
261	Christ wills we claim from Him gentility,
262	Not from ancestors of landocracy.
263	For though they give us all their heritage,
264	For which we claim to be of high lineage,
265	Yet can they not bequeath, in anything,
266	To any of us, their virtuous living,
267	That made men say they had gentility,
268	And bade us follow them in like degree.
269	Well does that poet wise of great Florence,
270	Called Dante, speak his mind in this sentence;
271	Somewhat like this may it translated be:
272	'Rarely unto the branches of the tree
273	Doth human worth mount up: and so ordains
274	He Who bestows it; to Him it pertains.'
275	For of our fathers may we nothing claim
276	But temporal things, that man may hurt and maim
277	And everyone knows this as well as I,
278	If nobleness were implanted naturally
279	Within a certain lineage, down the line,
280	In private and in public, I opine,
281	The ways of gentleness they'd alway show
282	And never fall to vice and conduct low.
283	Take fire and carry it in the darkest house
284	Between here and the Mount of Caucasus,
285	And let men shut the doors and from them turn;
286	Yet will the fire as fairly blaze and burn
287	As twenty thousand men did it behold;
288	Its nature and its office it will hold,
289	On peril of my life, until it die.
290	From this you see that true gentility
291	Is not allied to wealth a man may own,
292	Since folk do not their deeds, as may be shown,
293	As does the fire, according to its kind.
294	For God knows that men may full often find
295	A lord's son doing shame and villainy;
296	And he that prizes his gentility
297	In being born of some old noble house,
298	With ancestors both noble and virtuous,
299	But will himself do naught of noble deeds
300	Nor follow him to whose name he succeeds,
301	He is not gentle, be he duke or earl;
302	For acting churlish makes a man a churl.
303	Gentility is not just the renown
304	Of ancestors who have some greatness shown,
305	In which you have no portion of your own.
306	Your own gentility comes from God alone;
307	Thence comes our true nobility by grace,
308	It was not willed us with our rank and place
309	Think how noble, as says Valerius,
310	Was that same Tullius Hostilius,
311	Who out of poverty rose to high estate.
312	Seneca and Boethius inculcate,
313	Expressly (and no doubt it thus proceeds),
314	That he is noble who does noble deeds;
315	And therefore, husband dear, I thus conclude:
316	Although my ancestors mayhap were rude,
317	Yet may the High Lord God, and so hope I,
318	Grant me the grace to live right virtuously.
319	Then I'll be gentle when I do begin
320	To live in virtue and to do no sin.
321	And when you me reproach for poverty,
322	The High God, in Whom we believe, say I,
323	In voluntary poverty lived His life.
324	And surely every man, or maid, or wife
325	May understand that Jesus, Heaven's King,
326	Would not have chosen vileness of living.
327	Glad poverty's an honest thing, that's plain,
328	Which Seneca and other clerks maintain.
329	Whoso will be content with poverty,
330	I hold him rich, though not a shirt has he.
331	And he that covets much is a poor wight,
332	For he would gain what's all beyond his might,
333	But he that has not, nor desires to have,
334	Is rich, although you hold him but a knave.
335	True poverty, it sings right naturally;
336	Juvenal gaily says of poverty:
337	'The poor man, when he walks along the way,
338	Before the robbers he may sing and play.'
339	Poverty's odious good, and, as I guess,
340	It is a stimulant to busyness;
341	A great improver, too, of sapience
342	In him that takes it all with due patience.
343	Poverty's this, though it seem misery-
344	Its quality may none dispute, say I.
345	Poverty often, when a man is low,
346	Makes him his God and even himself to know.
347	And poverty's an eye-glass, seems to me,
348	Through which a man his loyal friends may see.
349	Since you've received no injury from me,
350	Then why reproach me for my poverty.
351	Now, sir, with age you have upbraided me;
352	And truly, sir, though no authority
353	Were in a book, you gentles of honour
354	Say that men should the aged show favour,
355	And call him father, of your gentleness;
356	And authors could I find for this, I guess.
357	Now since you say that I am foul and old,
358	Then fear you not to be made a cuckold;
359	For dirt and age, as prosperous I may be,
360	Are mighty wardens over chastity.
361	Nevertheless, since I know your delight,
362	I'll satisfy your worldly appetite.
363	Choose, now, said she, one of these two things, aye,
364	To have me foul and old until I die,
365	And be to you a true and humble wife,
366	And never anger you in all my life;
367	Or else to have me young and very fair
368	And take your chance with those who will repair
369	Unto your house, and all because of me,
370	Or in some other place, as well may be.
371	Now choose which you like better and reply.
372	This knight considered, and did sorely sigh,
373	But at the last replied as you shall hear:
374	My lady and my love, and wife so dear,
375	I put myself in your wise governing;
376	Do you choose which may be the more pleasing,
377	And bring most honour to you, and me also.
378	I care not which it be of these things two;
379	For if you like it, that suffices me.
380	Then have I got of you the mastery,
381	Since I may choose and govern, in earnest?
382	Yes, truly, wife, said he, I hold that best.
383	Kiss me, said she, we'll be no longer wroth,
384	For by my truth, to you I will be both;
385	That is to say, I'll be both good and fair.
386	I pray God I go mad, and so declare,
387	If I be not to you as good and true
388	As ever wife was since the world was new.
389	And, save I be, at dawn, as fairly seen
390	As any lady, empress, or great queen
391	That is between the east and the far west,
392	Do with my life and death as you like best.
393	Throw back the curtain and see how it is.
394	And when the knight saw verily all this,
395	That she so very fair was, and young too,
396	For joy he clasped her in his strong arms two,
397	His heart bathed in a bath of utter bliss;
398	A thousand times, all in a row, he'd kiss.
399	And she obeyed his wish in everything
400	That might give pleasure to his love-liking.
401	And thus they lived unto their lives' fair end,
402	In perfect joy; and Jesus to us send
403	Meek husbands, and young ones, and fresh in bed,
404	And good luck to outlive them that we wed.
405	And I pray Jesus to cut short the lives
406	Of those who'll not be governed by their wives;
407	And old and querulous niggards with their pence,
408	And send them soon a mortal pestilence!