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THE PROLOGUE

 

 WHEN ended was my tale of Melibee,
 

 And of Prudence and her benignity,
 

 Our Hoste said, "As I am faithful man,
 

 And by the precious corpus Madrian,<1>
 

 I had lever* than a barrel of ale,         *rather
 

 That goode lefe* my wife had heard this tale;    *dear
 

 For she is no thing of such patience
 

 As was this Meliboeus' wife Prudence.
 

 By Godde's bones! when I beat my knaves
 

 She bringeth me the greate clubbed staves,
 

 And crieth, 'Slay the dogges every one,
 

 And break of them both back and ev'ry bone.'
 

 And if that any neighebour of mine
 

 Will not in church unto my wife incline,
 

 Or be so hardy to her to trespace,*         *offend
 

 When she comes home she rampeth* in my face,    *springs
 

 And crieth, 'False coward, wreak* thy wife     *avenge
 

 By corpus Domini, I will have thy knife,
 

 And thou shalt have my distaff, and go spin.'
 

 From day till night right thus she will begin.
 

 'Alas!' she saith, 'that ever I was shape*     *destined
 

 To wed a milksop, or a coward ape,
 

 That will be overlad* with every wight!      *imposed on
 

 Thou darest not stand by thy wife's right.'
 

“This is my life, *but if* that I will fight; *unless
And out at door anon I must me dight,* *betake myself
Or elles I am lost, but if that I
Be, like a wilde lion, fool-hardy.
I wot well she will do* me slay some day *make
Some neighebour and thenne *go my way;* *take to flight*
For I am perilous with knife in hand,
Albeit that I dare not her withstand;
For she is big in armes, by my faith!
That shall he find, that her misdoth or saith. <2>
But let us pass away from this mattere.
My lord the Monk,” quoth he, “be merry of cheer,
For ye shall tell a tale truely.
Lo, Rochester stands here faste by.
Ride forth, mine owen lord, break not our game.
But by my troth I cannot tell your name;
Whether shall I call you my lord Dan John,
Or Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon?
Of what house be ye, by your father’s kin?
I vow to God, thou hast a full fair skin;
It is a gentle pasture where thou go’st;
Thou art not like a penant* or a ghost. *penitent
Upon my faith thou art some officer,
Some worthy sexton, or some cellarer.
For by my father’s soul, *as to my dome,* *in my judgement*
Thou art a master when thou art at home;
No poore cloisterer, nor no novice,
But a governor, both wily and wise,
And therewithal, of brawnes* and of bones, *sinews
A right well-faring person for the nonce.
I pray to God give him confusion
That first thee brought into religion.
Thou would’st have been a treade-fowl* aright; *cock
Hadst thou as greate leave, as thou hast might,
To perform all thy lust in engendrure,* *generation,
Thou hadst begotten many a creature. begettting
Alas! why wearest thou so wide a cope? <3>
God give me sorrow, but, an* I were pope, *if
Not only thou, but every mighty man,
Though he were shorn full high upon his pan,* <4> *crown
Should have a wife; for all this world is lorn;* *undone, ruined
Religion hath ta’en up all the corn
Of treading, and we borel* men be shrimps: *lay
Of feeble trees there come wretched imps.* *shoots <5>
This maketh that our heires be so slender
And feeble, that they may not well engender.
This maketh that our wives will assay
Religious folk, for they may better pay
Of Venus’ payementes than may we:
God wot, no lusheburghes <6> paye ye.
But be not wroth, my lord, though that I play;
Full oft in game a sooth have I heard say.”