The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 74

"Well," quoth the Manciple, "if it may do ease To thee, Sir Cook, and to no wight displease Which that here rideth in this company, And that our Host will of his courtesy, I will as now excuse thee of thy tale; For in good faith thy visage is full pale: Thine eyen daze,* soothly as me thinketh, *are dim And well I wot, thy breath full soure stinketh, That sheweth well thou art not well disposed; Of me certain thou shalt not be y-glosed.* *flattered See how he yawneth, lo, this drunken wight, As though he would us swallow anon right.

Hold close thy mouth, man, by thy father's kin; The devil of h.e.l.le set his foot therein!

Thy cursed breath infecte will us all: Fy! stinking swine, fy! foul may thee befall.

Ah! take heed, Sirs, of this l.u.s.ty man.

Now, sweete Sir, will ye joust at the fan?<4> Thereto, me thinketh, ye be well y-shape.

I trow that ye have drunken wine of ape,<5> And that is when men playe with a straw."

And with this speech the Cook waxed all wraw,* *wrathful And on the Manciple he gan nod fast For lack of speech; and down his horse him cast, Where as he lay, till that men him up took.

This was a fair chevachie* of a cook: *cavalry expedition Alas! that he had held him by his ladle!

And ere that he again were in the saddle There was great shoving bothe to and fro To lift him up, and muche care and woe, So unwieldy was this silly paled ghost.

And to the Manciple then spake our Host: "Because that drink hath domination Upon this man, by my salvation I trow he lewedly* will tell his tale. *stupidly For were it wine, or old or moisty* ale, *new That he hath drunk, he speaketh in his nose, And sneezeth fast, and eke he hath the pose <6> He also hath to do more than enough To keep him on his capel* out of the slough; *horse And if he fall from off his capel eftsoon,* *again Then shall we alle have enough to do'n In lifting up his heavy drunken corse.

Tell on thy tale, of him *make I no force.* *I take no account*

But yet, Manciple, in faith thou art too nice* *foolish Thus openly to reprove him of his vice; Another day he will paraventure Reclaime thee, and bring thee to the lure; <7> I mean, he speake will of smalle things, As for to *pinchen at* thy reckonings, *pick flaws in*

That were not honest, if it came to prefe."* *test, proof Quoth the Manciple, "That were a great mischief; So might he lightly bring me in the snare.

Yet had I lever* paye for the mare *rather Which he rides on, than he should with me strive.

I will not wrathe him, so may I thrive) That that I spake, I said it in my bourde.* *jest And weet ye what? I have here in my gourd A draught of wine, yea, of a ripe grape, And right anon ye shall see a good j.a.pe.* *trick This Cook shall drink thereof, if that I may; On pain of my life he will not say nay."

And certainly, to tellen as it was, Of this vessel the cook drank fast (alas!

What needed it? he drank enough beforn), And when he hadde *pouped in his horn,* *belched*

To the Manciple he took the gourd again.

And of that drink the Cook was wondrous fain, And thanked him in such wise as he could.

Then gan our Host to laughe wondrous loud, And said, "I see well it is necessary Where that we go good drink with us to carry; For that will turne rancour and disease* *trouble, annoyance T'accord and love, and many a wrong appease.

O Bacchus, Bacchus, blessed be thy name, That so canst turnen earnest into game!

Wors.h.i.+p and thank be to thy deity.

Of that mattere ye get no more of me.

Tell on thy tale, Manciple, I thee pray."

"Well, Sir," quoth he, "now hearken what I say."

Notes to the Prologue to the Manciple's Tale

1. Bob-up-and-down: Mr Wright supposes this to be the village of Harbledown, near Canterbury, which is situated on a hill, and near which there are many ups and downs in the road. Like Boughton, where the Canon and his Yeoman overtook the pilgrims, it stood on the skirts of the Kentish forest of Blean or Blee.

2. Dun is in the mire: a proverbial saying. "Dun" is a name for an a.s.s, derived from his colour.

3. The mention of the Cook here, with no hint that he had already told a story, confirms the indication given by the imperfect condition of his Tale, that Chaucer intended to suppress the Tale altogether, and make him tell a story in some other place.

4. The quintain; called "fan" or "vane," because it turned round like a weather-c.o.c.k.

5. Referring to the cla.s.sification of wine, according to its effects on a man, given in the old "Calendrier des Bergiers," The man of choleric temperament has "wine of lion;" the sanguine, "wine of ape;" the phlegmatic, "wine of sheep;" the melancholic, "wine of sow." There is a Rabbinical tradition that, when Noah was planting vines, Satan slaughtered beside them the four animals named; hence the effect of wine in making those who drink it display in turn the characteristics of all the four.

6. The pose: a defluxion or rheum which stops the nose and obstructs the voice.

7. Bring thee to his lure: A phrase in hawking -- to recall a hawk to the fist; the meaning here is, that the Cook may one day bring the Manciple to account, or pay him off, for the rebuke of his drunkenness.

THE TALE. <1>

When Phoebus dwelled here in earth adown, As olde bookes make mentioun, He was the moste l.u.s.ty* bacheler *pleasant Of all this world, and eke* the best archer. *also He slew Python the serpent, as he lay Sleeping against the sun upon a day; And many another n.o.ble worthy deed He with his bow wrought, as men maye read.

Playen he could on every minstrelsy, And singe, that it was a melody To hearen of his cleare voice the soun'.

Certes the king of Thebes, Amphioun, That with his singing walled the city, Could never singe half so well as he.

Thereto he was the seemlieste man That is, or was since that the world began; What needeth it his features to descrive?

For in this world is none so fair alive.

He was therewith full fill'd of gentleness, Of honour, and of perfect worthiness.

This Phoebus, that was flower of bach'lery, As well in freedom* as in chivalry, *generosity For his disport, in sign eke of victory Of Python, so as telleth us the story, Was wont to bearen in his hand a bow.

Now had this Phoebus in his house a crow, Which in a cage he foster'd many a day, And taught it speaken, as men teach a jay.

White was this crow, as is a snow-white swan, And counterfeit the speech of every man He coulde, when he shoulde tell a tale.

Therewith in all this world no nightingale Ne coulde by an hundred thousand deal* *part Singe so wondrous merrily and well.

Now had this Phoebus in his house a wife; Which that he loved more than his life.

And night and day did ever his diligence Her for to please, and do her reverence: Save only, if that I the sooth shall sayn, Jealous he was, and would have kept her fain.

For him were loth y-j.a.ped* for to be; *tricked, deceived And so is every wight in such degree; But all for nought, for it availeth nought.

A good wife, that is clean of work and thought, Should not be kept in none await* certain: *observation And truely the labour is in vain To keep a shrewe,* for it will not be. *ill-disposed woman This hold I for a very nicety,* *sheer folly To spille* labour for to keepe wives; *lose

Thus writen olde clerkes in their lives.

But now to purpose, as I first began.

This worthy Phoebus did all that he can To please her, weening, through such pleasance, And for his manhood and his governance, That no man should have put him from her grace; But, G.o.d it wot, there may no man embrace As to distrain* a thing, which that nature *succeed in constraining Hath naturally set in a creature.

Take any bird, and put it in a cage, And do all thine intent, and thy corage,* *what thy heart prompts To foster it tenderly with meat and drink Of alle dainties that thou canst bethink, And keep it all so cleanly as thou may; Although the cage of gold be never so gay, Yet had this bird, by twenty thousand fold, Lever* in a forest, both wild and cold, *rather Go eate wormes, and such wretchedness.

For ever this bird will do his business T'escape out of his cage when that he may: His liberty the bird desireth aye. <2> Let take a cat, and foster her with milk And tender flesh, and make her couch of silk, And let her see a mouse go by the wall, Anon she weiveth* milk, and flesh, and all, *forsaketh And every dainty that is in that house, Such appet.i.te hath she to eat the mouse.

Lo, here hath kind* her domination, *nature And appet.i.te flemeth* discretion. *drives out A she-wolf hath also a villain's kind The lewedeste wolf that she may find, Or least of reputation, will she take In time when *her l.u.s.t* to have a make.* *she desires *mate All these examples speak I by* these men *with reference to That be untrue, and nothing by women.

For men have ever a lik'rous appet.i.te On lower things to perform their delight Than on their wives, be they never so fair, Never so true, nor so debonair.* *gentle, mild Flesh is so newefangled, *with mischance,* *ill luck to it*

That we can in no thinge have pleasance That *souneth unto* virtue any while. *accords with

This Phoebus, which that thought upon no guile, Deceived was for all his jollity; For under him another hadde she, A man of little reputation, Nought worth to Phoebus in comparison.

The more harm is; it happens often so, Of which there cometh muche harm and woe.

And so befell, when Phoebus was absent, His wife anon hath for her leman* sent. *unlawful lover Her leman! certes that is a knavish speech.

Forgive it me, and that I you beseech.

The wise Plato saith, as ye may read, The word must needs accorde with the deed; If men shall telle properly a thing, The word must cousin be to the working.

I am a boistous* man, right thus I say. *rough-spoken, downright There is no difference truely Betwixt a wife that is of high degree (If of her body dishonest she be), And any poore wench, other than this (If it so be they worke both amiss), But, for* the gentle is in estate above, *because She shall be call'd his lady and his love; And, for that other is a poor woman, She shall be call'd his wench and his leman: And G.o.d it wot, mine owen deare brother, Men lay the one as low as lies the other.

Right so betwixt a *t.i.tleless tyrant* *usurper*

And an outlaw, or else a thief errant, *wandering The same I say, there is no difference (To Alexander told was this sentence), But, for the tyrant is of greater might By force of meinie* for to slay downright, *followers And burn both house and home, and make all plain,* *level Lo, therefore is he call'd a capitain; And, for the outlaw hath but small meinie, And may not do so great an harm as he, Nor bring a country to so great mischief, Men calle him an outlaw or a thief.

But, for I am a man not textuel, *learned in texts I will not tell of texts never a deal;* *whit I will go to my tale, as I began.

When Phoebus' wife had sent for her leman, Anon they wroughten all their *l.u.s.t volage.* *light or rash pleasure*

This white crow, that hung aye in the cage, Beheld their work, and said never a word; And when that home was come Phoebus the lord, This crowe sung, "Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!"

"What? bird," quoth Phoebus, "what song sing'st thou now?

Wert thou not wont so merrily to sing, That to my heart it was a rejoicing To hear thy voice? alas! what song is this?"

"By G.o.d," quoth he, "I singe not amiss.

Phoebus," quoth he, "for all thy worthiness, For all thy beauty, and all thy gentleness, For all thy song, and all thy minstrelsy, *For all thy waiting, bleared is thine eye* *despite all thy watching, With one of little reputation, thou art befooled*

Not worth to thee, as in comparison, The mountance* of a gnat, so may I thrive; *value For on thy bed thy wife I saw him swive."

What will ye more? the crow anon him told, By sade* tokens, and by wordes bold, *grave, trustworthy How that his wife had done her lechery, To his great shame and his great villainy; And told him oft, he saw it with his eyen.

This Phoebus gan awayward for to wrien;* *turn aside Him thought his woeful hearte burst in two.

His bow he bent, and set therein a flo,* *arrow And in his ire he hath his wife slain; This is th' effect, there is no more to sayn.

For sorrow of which he brake his minstrelsy, Both harp and lute, gitern* and psaltery; *guitar And eke he brake his arrows and his bow; And after that thus spake he to the crow.

"Traitor," quoth he, "with tongue of scorpion, Thou hast me brought to my confusion; Alas that I was wrought!* why n'ere** I dead? *made **was not O deare wife, O gem of l.u.s.tihead,* *pleasantness That wert to me so sad,* and eke so true, *steadfast Now liest thou dead, with face pale of hue, Full guilteless, that durst I swear y-wis!* *certainly O rakel* hand, to do so foul amiss *rash, hasty O troubled wit, O ire reckeless, That unadvised smit'st the guilteless!

O wantrust,* full of false suspicion! *distrust <3> Where was thy wit and thy discretion?

O! every man beware of rakelness,* *rashness Nor trow* no thing withoute strong witness. *believe Smite not too soon, ere that ye weete* why, *know And *be advised* well and sickerly** *consider* *surely Ere ye *do any execution *take any action Upon your ire* for suspicion. upon your anger*