Canterbury Tales and Other Poems - Geoffrey Chaucer (best desktop ebook reader .txt) 📗

evermore thy friend, observance of this statute*

And think thyself in no wise a cuckold.

In ev’ry thing she doth but as she sho’ld: Construe the best, believe no tales new, For many a lie is told, that seems full true.

 

But think that she, so bounteous and fair, Could not be false: imagine this algate; at all events And think that wicked tongues would her apair, defame Sland’ring her name and *worshipful estate, honourable fame*

And lovers true to setten at debate:

And though thou seest a fault right at thine eye, Excuse it blife, and glose* it prettily. gloss it over The fifteenth statute, Use to swear and stare, And counterfeit a leasing hardily,* falsehood **boldly To save thy lady’s honour ev’rywhere,

And put thyself for her to fight boldly; Say she is good, virtuous, and ghostly, spiritual, pure Clear of intent, and heart, and thought, and will; And argue not for reason nor for skill Against thy lady’s pleasure nor intent, For love will not be counterpled* indeed: *met with counterpleas Say as she saith, then shalt thou not be shent; disgraced “The crow is white;” “Yea truly, so I rede:” judge And aye what thing that she will thee forbid, Eschew all that, and give her sov’reignty, Her appetite to follow in all degree.

 

The sixteenth statute, keep it if thou may: <23>

Sev’n times at night thy lady for to please, And sev’n at midnight, sev’n at morrow day, And drink a caudle early for thine ease.

Do this, and keep thine head from all disease, And win the garland here of lovers all, That ever came in Court, or ever shall.

 

Full few, think I, this statute hold and keep; But truly this my reason *gives me feel, enables me to perceive*

That some lovers should rather fall asleep, Than take on hand to please so oft and weel. well There lay none oath to this statute adele, annexed But keep who might *as gave him his corage: as his heart Now get this garland, folk of lusty age! inspired him*

 

Now win who may, ye lusty folk of youth, This garland fresh, of flowers red and white, Purple and blue, and colours full uncouth, strange And I shall crown him king of all delight!

In all the Court there was not, to my sight, A lover true, that he was not adread,

When he express* had heard the statute read. *plainly The sev’nteenth statute, When age approacheth on, And lust is laid, and all the fire is queint, quenched As freshly then thou shalt begin to fon, behave fondly And doat in love, and all her image paint In thy remembrance, till thou gin to faint, As in the first season thine heart began: And her desire, though thou nor may nor can Perform thy living actual and lust;

Register this in thine rememberance:

Eke when thou may’st not keep thy thing from rust, Yet speak and talk of pleasant dalliance; For that shall make thine heart rejoice and dance; And when thou may’st no more the game assay, The statute bids thee pray for them that may.

 

The eighteenth statute, wholly to commend, To please thy lady, is, That thou eschew With sluttishness thyself for to offend; Be jolly, fresh, and feat,* with thinges new, *dainty <24>

Courtly with manner, this is all thy due, Gentle of port, and loving cleanliness; This is the thing that liketh thy mistress.

 

And not to wander like a dulled ass,

Ragged and torn, disguised in array,

Ribald in speech, or out of measure pass, Thy bound exceeding; think on this alway: For women be of tender heartes ay,

And lightly set their pleasure in a place; When they misthink,* they lightly let it pace. think wrongly The nineteenth statute, Meat and drink forget: Each other day see that thou fast for love, For in the Court they live withoute meat, Save such as comes from Venus all above; They take no heed, in pain of great reprove, on pain of great Of meat and drink, for that is all in vain, reproach*

Only they live by sight of their sov’reign.

 

The twentieth statute, last of ev’ry one, Enrol it in thy hearte’s privity;

To wring and wail, to turn, and sigh, and groan, When that thy lady absent is from thee; And eke renew the wordes all that she

Between you twain hath said, and all the cheer That thee hath made thy life’s lady dear.

 

And see thy heart in quiet nor in rest Sojourn, till time thou see thy lady eft, again But whe’er* she won** by south, or east, or west, whether *dwell With all thy force now see it be not left Be diligent, till time thy life be reft, until the time that

In that thou may’st, thy lady for to see; This statute was of old antiquity.

 

The officer, called Rigour — who is incorruptible by partiality, favour, prayer, or gold — made them swear to keep the statutes; and, after taking the oath, Philogenet turned over other leaves of the book, containing the statutes of women. But Rigour sternly bade him forbear; for no man might know the statutes that belong to women.

 

“In secret wise they kepte be full close; They sound* each one to liberty, my friend; tend, accord Pleasant they be, and to their own purpose; There wot no wight of them, but God and fiend, *knows Nor aught shall wit, unto the worlde’s end.

The queen hath giv’n me charge, in pain to die, Never to read nor see them with mine eye.

 

“For men shall not so near of counsel be’n With womanhead, nor knowen of their guise, Nor what they think, nor of their wit th’engine; craft *I me report to* Solomon the wise, <25> I refer for proof to

And mighty Samson, which beguiled thrice With Delilah was; he wot that, in a throw, There may no man statute of women know.

 

“For it peradventure may right so befall, That they be bound by nature to deceive, And spin, and weep, and sugar strew on gall, <26>

The heart of man to ravish and to reave, And whet their tongue as sharp as sword or gleve: glaive, sword It may betide this is their ordinance, So must they lowly do their observance, “And keep the statute given them *of kind, by nature*

Of such as Love hath giv’n them in their life.

Men may not wit why turneth every wind, Nor waxe wise, nor be inquisitife

To know secret of maid, widow, or wife; For they their statutes have to them reserved, And never man to know them hath deserved.”

 

Rigour then sent them forth to pay court to Venus, and pray her to teach them how they might serve and please their dames, or to provide with ladies those whose hearts were yet vacant. Before Venus knelt a thousand sad petitioners, entreating her to punish “the false untrue,” that had broken their vows, “barren of ruth, untrue of what they said, now that their lust and pleasure is allay’d.” But the mourners were in a minority;

 

Yet eft again, a thousand million,

Rejoicing, love, leading their life in bliss: They said: “Venus, redress* of all division, healer Goddess eternal, thy name heried is! *glorified By love’s bond is knit all thing, y-wis, assuredly Beast unto beast, the earth to water wan, pale Bird unto bird, and woman unto man; <27>

 

“This is the life of joy that we be in, Resembling life of heav’nly paradise;

Love is exiler ay of vice and sin;

Love maketh heartes lusty to devise;

Honour and grace have they in ev’ry wise, That be to love’s law obedient;

Love maketh folk benign and diligent;

 

“Aye stirring them to dreade vice and shame: In their degree it makes them honourable; And sweet it is of love to bear the name, So that his love be faithful, true, and stable: Love pruneth him to seemen amiable;

Love hath no fault where it is exercis’d, But sole* with them that have all love despis’d:” *only And they conclude with grateful honours to the goddess — rejoicing hat they are hers in heart, and all inflamed with her grace and heavenly fear. Philogenet now entreats the goddess to remove his grief; for he also loves, and hotly, only he does not know where —

 

“Save only this, by God and by my troth; Troubled I was with slumber, sleep, and sloth This other night, and in a vision

I saw a woman roamen up and down,

 

“Of *mean stature,* and seemly to behold, middling height

Lusty and fresh, demure of countenance, Young and well shap’d, with haire sheen* as gold, shining With eyne as crystal, farced with pleasance; crammed And she gan stir mine heart a lite to dance; little But suddenly she vanish gan right there: Thus I may say, I love, and wot not where.” *know If he could only know this lady, he would serve and obey her with all benignity; but if his destiny were otherwise, he would gladly love and serve his lady, whosoever she might be. He called on Venus for help to possess his queen and heart’s life, and vowed daily war with Diana: “that goddess chaste I keepen [care] in no wise to serve; a fig for all her chastity!” Then he rose and went his way, passing by a rich and beautiful shrine, which, Philobone informed him, was the sepulchre of Pity. “A tender creature,” she said,

 

“Is shrined there, and Pity is her name.

She saw an eagle wreak* him on a fly, avenge And pluck his wing, and eke him, in his game; for sport*

And tender heart of that hath made her die: Eke she would weep, and mourn right piteously, To see a lover suffer great distress.

In all the Court was none, as I do guess, “That could a lover half so well avail, help Nor of his woe the torment or the rage Aslake;* for he was sure, withoute fail, *assuage That of his grief she could the heat assuage.

Instead of Pity, speedeth hot Courage

The matters all of Court, now she is dead; *I me report in this to womanhead. for evidence I refer to the behaviour of women themselves.*

 

“For wail, and weep, and cry, and speak, and pray, —

Women would not have pity on thy plaint; Nor by that means to ease thine heart convey, But thee receive for their own talent: inclination And say that Pity caus’d thee, in consent Of ruth,* to take thy service and thy pain, *compassion In that thou may’st, to please thy sovereign.”

 

Philobone now promised to lead Philogenet to “the fairest lady under sun that is,” the “mirror of joy and bliss,” whose name is Rosial, and “whose heart as yet is given to no wight;”

suggesting that, as he also was “with love but light advanc’d,”

he might set this lady in the place of her of whom he had dreamed. Entering a chamber gay, “there was Rosial, womanly to see;” and the subtle-piercing beams of her eyes wounded Philogenet to the heart. When he could speak, he threw himself on his knees, beseeching her to cool his fervent woe: For there I took full purpose in my mind, Unto her grace my painful heart to bind.

 

For, if I shall all fully her descrive, describe Her head was round, by compass of nature; Her hair as gold, she passed all alive, And lily forehead had this creature,

With lively