The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 42

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 s.e.xual intercourse*

To eat them all he would nothing eschew: And to his privy friendes thus said he: "For G.o.dde'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 tres.p.a.ce 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 n.o.bles all.

A bride shall not eaten in the ball Till dayes four, or three days at the least, Y-pa.s.sed be; then let her go to feast.

The fourthe day complete from noon to noon, When that the highe ma.s.se 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 inc.u.mbrance.

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 h.e.l.l; But there I let them worken in their wise Till evensong ring, and they must arise.

Were it by destiny, or aventure,* * chance Were it by influence, or by nature, Or constellation, that in such estate The heaven stood at that time fortunate As for to put a bill of Venus' works (For alle thing hath time, as say these clerks), To any woman for to get her love, I cannot say; but greate G.o.d above, That knoweth that none act is causeless, *He deem* of all, for I will hold my peace. *let him judge*

But sooth is this, how that this freshe May Hath taken such impression that day Of pity on this sicke Damian, That from her hearte she not drive can The remembrance for *to do him ease.* *to satisfy "Certain," thought she, "whom that this thing displease his desire*

I recke not, for here I him a.s.sure, To love him best of any creature, Though he no more haddee than his shirt."

Lo, pity runneth soon in gentle heart.

Here may ye see, how excellent franchise* *generosity In women is when they them *narrow advise.* *closely consider*

Some tyrant is, -- as there be many a one, -- That hath a heart as hard as any stone, Which would have let him sterven* in the place *die Well rather than have granted him her grace; And then rejoicen in her cruel pride.

And reckon not to be a homicide.

This gentle May, full filled of pity, Right of her hand a letter maked she, In which she granted him her very grace; There lacked nought, but only day and place, Where that she might unto his l.u.s.t suffice: For it shall be right as he will devise.

And when she saw her time upon a day To visit this Damian went this May, And subtilly this letter down she thrust Under his pillow, read it if him l.u.s.t.* *pleased She took him by the hand, and hard him twist So secretly, that no wight of it wist, And bade him be all whole; and forth she went To January, when he for her sent.

Up rose Damian the nexte morrow, All pa.s.sed was his sickness and his sorrow.

He combed him, he proined <20> him and picked, He did all that unto his lady liked; And eke to January he went as low As ever did a dogge for the bow.<21> He is so pleasant unto every man (For craft is all, whoso that do it can), Every wight is fain to speak him good; And fully in his lady's grace he stood.

Thus leave I Damian about his need, And in my tale forth I will proceed.

Some clerke* holde that felicity *writers, scholars Stands in delight; and therefore certain he, This n.o.ble January, with all his might In honest wise as longeth* to a knight, *belongeth Shope* him to live full deliciously: *prepared, arranged His housing, his array, as honestly* *honourably, suitably To his degree was maked as a king's.

Amonges other of his honest things He had a garden walled all with stone; So fair a garden wot I nowhere none.

For out of doubt I verily suppose That he that wrote the Romance of the Rose <22> Could not of it the beauty well devise;* *describe Nor Priapus <23> mighte not well suffice, Though he be G.o.d of gardens, for to tell The beauty of the garden, and the well* *fountain That stood under a laurel always green.

Full often time he, Pluto, and his queen Proserpina, and all their faerie, Disported them and made melody About that well, and danced, as men told.

This n.o.ble knight, this January old Such dainty* had in it to walk and play, *pleasure That he would suffer no wight to bear the key, Save he himself, for of the small wicket He bare always of silver a cliket,* *key With which, when that him list, he it unshet.* *opened And when that he would pay his wife's debt, In summer season, thither would he go, And May his wife, and no wight but they two; And thinges which that were not done in bed, He in the garden them perform'd and sped.

And in this wise many a merry day Lived this January and fresh May, But worldly joy may not always endure To January, nor to no creatucere.

O sudden hap! O thou fortune unstable!

Like to the scorpion so deceivable,* *deceitful That fhatt'rest with thy head when thou wilt sting; Thy tail is death, through thine envenoming.

O brittle joy! O sweete poison quaint!* *strange O monster, that so subtilly canst paint Thy giftes, under hue of steadfastness, That thou deceivest bothe *more and less!* *great and small*

Why hast thou January thus deceiv'd, That haddest him for thy full friend receiv'd?

And now thou hast bereft him both his eyen, For sorrow of which desireth he to dien.

Alas! this n.o.ble January free, Amid his l.u.s.t* and his prosperity *pleasure Is waxen blind, and that all suddenly.

He weeped and he wailed piteously; And therewithal the fire of jealousy (Lest that his wife should fall in some folly) So burnt his hearte, that he woulde fain, That some man bothe him and her had slain; For neither after his death, nor in his life, Ne would he that she were no love nor wife, But ever live as widow in clothes black, Sole as the turtle that hath lost her make.* *mate But at the last, after a month or tway, His sorrow gan a.s.suage, soothe to say.

For, when he wist it might none other be, He patiently took his adversity: Save out of doubte he may not foregon That he was jealous evermore-in-one:* *continually Which jealousy was so outrageous, That neither in hall, nor in none other house, Nor in none other place never the mo'

He woulde suffer her to ride or go, *But if* that he had hand on her alway. *unless For which full often wepte freshe May, That loved Damian so burningly That she must either dien suddenly, Or elles she must have him as her lest:* *pleased She waited* when her hearte woulde brest.** *expected **burst Upon that other side Damian Becomen is the sorrowfullest man That ever was; for neither night nor day He mighte speak a word to freshe May, As to his purpose, of no such mattere, *But if* that January must it hear, *unless*

That had a hand upon her evermo'.

But natheless, by writing to and fro, And privy signes, wist he what she meant, And she knew eke the fine* of his intent. *end, aim

O January, what might it thee avail, Though thou might see as far as shippes sail?

For as good is it blind deceiv'd to be, As be deceived when a man may see.

Lo, Argus, which that had a hundred eyen, <24> For all that ever he could pore or pryen, Yet was he blent;* and, G.o.d wot, so be mo', *deceived That *weene wisly* that it be not so: *think confidently*

Pa.s.s over is an ease, I say no more.

This freshe May, of which I spake yore,* *previously In warm wax hath *imprinted the cliket* *taken an impression That January bare of the small wicket of the key*

By which into his garden oft he went; And Damian, that knew all her intent, The cliket counterfeited privily; There is no more to say, but hastily Some wonder by this cliket shall betide, Which ye shall hearen, if ye will abide.

O n.o.ble Ovid, sooth say'st thou, G.o.d wot, What sleight is it, if love be long and hot, That he'll not find it out in some mannere?

By Pyramus and Thisbe may men lear;* *learn Though they were kept full long and strait o'er all, They be accorded,* rowning** through a wall, *agreed**whispering Where no wight could have found out such a sleight.

But now to purpose; ere that dayes eight Were pa.s.sed of the month of July, fill* *it befell That January caught so great a will, Through egging* of his wife, him for to play *inciting In his garden, and no wight but they tway, That in a morning to this May said he: <25> "Rise up, my wife, my love, my lady free; The turtle's voice is heard, mine owen sweet; The winter is gone, with all his raines weet.* *wet Come forth now with thine *eyen columbine* *eyes like the doves*

Well fairer be thy b.r.e.a.s.t.s than any wine.

The garden is enclosed all about; Come forth, my white spouse; for, out of doubt, Thou hast me wounded in mine heart, O wife: No spot in thee was e'er in all thy life.

Come forth, and let us taken our disport; I choose thee for my wife and my comfort."

Such olde lewed* wordes used he. *foolish, ignorant On Damian a signe made she, That he should go before with his cliket.

This Damian then hath opened the wicket, And in he start, and that in such mannere That no wight might him either see or hear; And still he sat under a bush. Anon This January, as blind as is a stone, With Maius in his hand, and no wight mo', Into this freshe garden is y-go, And clapped to the wicket suddenly.

"Now, wife," quoth he, "here is but thou and I; Thou art the creature that I beste love: For, by that Lord that sits in heav'n above, Lever* I had to dien on a knife, *rather Than thee offende, deare true wife.

For G.o.dde's sake, think how I thee chees,* *chose Not for no covetise* doubteless, * covetousness But only for the love I had to thee.

And though that I be old, and may not see, Be to me true, and I will tell you why.

Certes three thinges shall ye win thereby: First, love of Christ, and to yourself honour, And all mine heritage, town and tow'r.

I give it you, make charters as you lest; This shall be done to-morrow ere sun rest, So wisly* G.o.d my soule bring to bliss! *surely I pray you, on this covenant me kiss.