Canterbury Tales (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Geoffrey Chaucer

  And of hir owene vertu, unconstreyned,

  She hath ful ofte tyme syk hir feyned,

  For that she wolde fleen the companye

  Wher lykly was to treten of folye,

  As is at festes, revels, and at daunces.

  That been occasions of daliaunces

  Swich thinges maken children for to be

  To sone rype and bold, as men may see,

  Which is ful perilous, and hath ben yore.

  For al to sone may she lerne lore

  Of boldnesse, whan she woxen is a wyf.

  And ye maistresses in your olde lyf,

  That lordes doghtres han in governaunce,

  Ne taketh of my wordes no displesaunce;

  Thenketh that ye ben set in governinges

  Of lordes doghtres, only for two thinges;

  Like unto the streams of his burnished heat.

  And if excellent was her beauty,

  A thousand-fold more virtuous was she.

  In her lacked no feature

  That is to praise, in her character.

  As well in spirit as body chaste was she,

  For which she flowered in virginity

  With all humility and abstinence,

  With all temperance and patience,

  With measure also of bearing and appearance.

  Discreet was she in answering always;

  Though she was wise as Pallas,5 dare I say,

  Her speech was also full womanly and plain.

  No counterfeited terms had she

  To seem wise, but after her degree

  She spoke, and all her words, more and less,

  Conducive to virtue and gentleness.

  Modest was she in maiden’s modesty,

  Constant in heart, and ever busy

  To drive her out of idle sluggardy.

  Bacchus had of her mouth no mastery;

  For wine and youth does desire increase,

  As men into a fire will cast oil or grease.

  And by her own virtue, unconstrained,

  She had full oftentime sickness feigned,

  For she would flee the company

  Where likely was to speak of folly,

  As is at feasts, revels and at dances,

  That be occasions of dalliances.

  Such things make children be

  Too soon ripe and bold, as men may see,

  Which is full perilous and has been of yore.

  For all too soon she may learn lore

  Of boldness, when she has become a wife.

  And you governesses, in your old life,

  Who lords’ daughters have in governance,

  Take of my words no offence.

  Think that you be set as governesses

  Of lords’ daughters only for two things:

  Outher for ye han kept your honestee,

  Or elles ye han falle in freletee,

  And knowen wel y-nough the olde daunce,

  And han forsaken fully swich meschaunce

  For evermo; therefore, for Cristes sake,

  To teche hem vertu loke that ye ne slake.

  A theef of venisoun, that hath forlaft

  His likerousnesse, and al his olde craft,

  Can kepe a forest best of any man.

  Now kepeth hem wel, for if ye wol, ye can;

  Loke wel that ye un-to no vice assente,

  Lest ye be dampned for your wikke entente;

  For who-so doth, a traitour is certeyn.

  And taketh kepe of that that I shal seyn;

  Of alle tresons sovereyn pestilence

  Is whan a wight bitrayseth innocence.

  Ye fadres and ye modres eek also,

  Though ye han children, be it oon or two,

  Your is the charge of al hir surveyaunce,

  Whyl that they been under your governaunce.

  Beth war that by ensample of your livinge,

  Or by your necligence in chastisinge,

  That they ne perisse; for I dar wel seye,

  If that they doon, ye shul it dere abeye.

  Under a shepherde softe and necligent

  The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to-rent.

  Suffyseth oon ensample now as here,

  For I mot turne agayn to my matere.

  This mayde, of which I wol this tale expresse,

  So kepte hir-self, hir neded no maistresse;

  For in hir living maydens mighten rede,

  As in a book, every good word or dede,

  That longeth to a mayden vertuous;

  She was so prudent and so bountevous.

  For which the fame out-sprong on every syde

  Bothe of hir beautee and hir bountee wyde;

  That thurgh that land they preysed hir echone,

  That loved vertu, save envye allone,

  That sory is of other mennes wele,

  Either because you have kept your honesty,

  Or else you have fallen in frailty,

  And know well enough the old dance,6

  And have forsaken fully such mischance

  For evermore; therefore, for Christ’s sake,

  To teach them virtue look that you do not slacken.

  A thief of venison, who has forsaken

  His greed and all his old craft,

  Can keep a forest best of any man.

  Now keep well, for if you will, you can.

  Look well that you unto no vice assent,

  Lest you be damned for your wicked intent;

  For whoso does, a traitor is, certainly.

  And take heed of what I shall say:

  Of all treasons sovereign pestilence

  Is when a person betrays innocence.

  You mothers and you fathers also,

  Though you have children, be it one or more,

  Yours is the duty of all their protection,

  While they be under your governance.

  Beware, if by example of your living,

  Or by your negligence in chastising,

  They perish; for I dare well say

  If they do, you shall for it dearly pay.

  Under a shepherd soft and negligent

  The wolf has many a sheep and many a lamb rent.

  Suffice one example here,

  For I must turn again to my matter.

  This maid, of whom I will this tale express,

  So kept herself that she needed no mistress,

  For in her living maidens might read,

  As in a book, every good word or deed

  That belongs to a maiden virtuous,

  She was so prudent and so bounteous.

  For which the fame sprang out on every side,

  Both of her beauty and her bounty wide,

  That through that land they praised her each one

  Who loved virtue, save envy alone,

  Who sorry is of other men’s weal

  And glad is of his sorwe and his unhele;

  (The doctour maketh this descripcioun).

  This mayde up-on a day wente in the toun

  Toward a temple, with hir moderdere,

  As is of yonge maydens the manere.

  Now was ther thanne a justice in that toun,

  That governour was of that regioun.

  And so bifel, this juge his eyen caste

  Up-on this mayde, avysinge him ful faste,

  As she cam forby ther this juge stood.

  Anon his herte chaunged and his mood,

  So was he caught with beautee of this mayde;

  And to him-self ful prively he sayde,

  “This mayde shal be myn, for any man.”

  Anon the feend in-to his herte ran,

  And taughte him sodeynly, that he by slighte

  The mayden to his purpos winne mighte.

  For certes, by no force, ne by no mede,

  Him thoughte, he was nat able for to spede;

  For she was strong of freendes, and eek she

  Confermed was in swich soverayn bountee,

  That wel he wiste he migh
te hir never winne

  As for to make hir with hir body sinne.

  For which, by greet deliberacioun,

  He sente after a cherl, was in the toun,

  Which that he knew for subtil and for bold.

  This juge un-to this cherl his tale hath told

  In secree wyse, and made him to ensure,

  He sholde telle it to no creature,

  And if he dide, he sholde lese his heed.

  Whan that assented was this cursed reed,

  Glad was this juge and maked him greet chere,

  And yaf him yiftes preciouse and dere.

  Whan shapen was al hir conspiracye

  Fro point to point, how that his lecherye

  Parfourned sholde been ful subtilly,

  As ye shul here it after openly,

  Hoom gooth the cherl, that highte Claudius.

  This false juge that highte Apius,

  And glad is of his sorrow and his unheal.

  (Saint Augustine made this description.)7

  This maid upon a day went in the town

  Toward a temple, with her mother dear,

  As is of young maidens the manner.

  Now was there then a justice in that town,

  Who governor was of that region.

  And so it befell that this judge his eyes cast

  Upon this maid, making him to consider full fast,

  As she came past where this judge stood.

  Anon his heart changed and his mood,

  So was he caught with the beauty of this maid.

  And to himself privately he said,

  “This maid shall be mine, before any man!”

  Anon the fiend into his heart ran,

  And taught him suddenly that he by sleight

  The maiden to his purpose win he might.

  For certainly, neither by force or payment,

  He thought, would he be able to speed;

  For she was strong of friends and also she

  Confirmed was in such sovereign bounty

  That well he knew he might never succeed

  To make her with her body sin.

  For which, by great deliberation,

  He sent after a churl, who was in the town,

  Whom he knew for subtlety and boldness.

  This judge unto this churl his tale has told

  In secrecy, and made him to assure

  That he would tell it to no creature,

  And if he did, he should lose his head.

  When to this purpose they were agreed

  Glad was this judge, and made him great cheer,

  And gave to him gifts precious and dear.

  When shaped was all their conspiracy

  From point to point, how his lechery

  Performed should be full subtly,

  As you shall hear after openly,

  Home went this churl, who was called Claudius.

  This false judge, named Apius,

  So was his name, (for this is no fable,

  But knowen for historial thing notable,

  The sentence of it sooth is, out of doute),

  This false juge gooth now faste aboute

  To hasten his delyt al that he may.

  And so bifel sone after, on a day,

  This false juge, as telleth us the storie,

  As he was wont, sat in his consistorie,

  And yaf his domes up-on sondry cas.

  This false cherl cam forth a ful greet pas,

  And seyde, “lord, if that it be your wille,

  As dooth me right up-on this pitous bille,

  In which I pleyne up-on Virginius.

  And if that he wol seyn it is nat thus,

  I wol it preve, and finde good witnesse,

  That sooth is that my bille wol expresse.”

  The juge answerde, “of this, in his absence,

  I may nat yeve diffinitif sentence.

  Lat do him calle, and I wol gladly here;

  Thou shalt have al right, and no wrong here.”

  Virginius cam, to wite the juges wille,

  And right anon was rad this cursed bille;

  The sentence of it was as ye shul here.

  “To yow, my lord, sire Apius so dere,

  Sheweth your povre servant Claudius,

  How that a knight, called Virginius,

  Agayns the lawe, agayn al equitee,

  Holdeth, expres agayn the wil of me,

  My servant, which that is my thral by right,

  Which fro myn hous was stole up-on a night,

  Whyl that she was ful yong; this wol I preve

  By witnesse, lord, so that it nat yow greve.

  She nis his doghter nat, what so he seye;

  Wherfore to yow, my lord the juge, I preye,

  Yeld me my thral, if that it be your wille.”

  Lo! this was al the sentence of his bille.

  Virginius gan up-on the cherl biholde,

  But hastily, er he his tale tolde,

  And wolde have preved it, as sholde a knight,

  (So was his name, for this is no fable,

  But known as an historical thing notable;

  The meaning of it is true, without doubt),

  This false judge now went fast about

  To hasten his delight all that he may.

  And so it befell soon after, on a day,

  This false judge, as tells us the story,

  As he was wont, sat in his court,

  And gave his decisions upon sundry cases.

  This false churl came forth at full great pace,

  And said, “Lord, if it be your will,

  Do me right upon this piteous bill,

  In which I complain of Virginius;

  And if he will say it is not thus,

  I will it prove, and find good witness,

  The truth is that which my bill will express.”

  The judge answered, “Of this, in his absence,

  I may not give definitive sentence.

  Have him called, and I will gladly hear;

  You shall have justice, and no wrong fear.”

  Virginius came to know the judge’s will;

  And right anon was read this cursed bill;

  The meaning of it was as you shall hear:

  “To you, my lord, sir Apius so dear,

  Show your poor servant Claudius

  How a knight, called Virginius,

  Against the law, against all justice,

  Holds, expressly against my will,

  My servant, who is my thrall by right,

  Who from my house was stolen upon a night,

  While she was full young; this will I prove

  By witness, lord, so that it not you grieves.

  She was not his daughter, no matter what he says.

  Therefore to you, my lord the judge, I pray,

  Yield me my thrall, if it be your will.”

  Lo, this was all the sentence of his bill.

  Virginius began upon this churl to stare,

  But hastily, before he his tale told,

  And would have proved it in battle as should a knight,

  And eek by witnessing of many a wight,

  That it was fals that seyde his adversarie,

  This cursed juge wolde no-thing tarie,

  Ne here a word more of Virginius,

  But yaf his jugement, and seyde thus:—

  “I deme anon this cherl his servant have;

  Thou shalt no lenger in thyn hous hir save.

  Go bring hir forth, and put hir in our warde,

  The cherl shal have his thral, this I awarde.”

  And whan this worthy knight Virginius,

  Thurgh sentence of this justice Apius,

  Moste by force his dere doghter yiven

  Un-to the juge, in lecherye to liven,

  He gooth him hoom, and sette him in his halle,

  And leet anon his dere doghter calle,

  And, with a face deed as asshen colde,

  Upon hir humble face he gan bih
olde,

  With fadres pitee stiking thurgh his herte,

  Al wolde he from his purpos nat converte.

  “Doghter,” quod he, “Virginia, by thy name,

  Ther been two weyes, outher deeth or shame,

  That thou most suffre; alias! that I was bore!

  For never thou deservedest wherfore

  To deyn with a swerd or with a knyf.

  O dere doghter, ender of my lyf,

  Which I have fostred up with swich plesaunce,

  That thou were never out of my remembraunce!

  O doghter, which that art my laste wo.

  And in my lyf my laste joye also,

  0 gemme of chastitee, in pacience

  Take thou thy deeth, for this is my sentence.

  For love and nat for hate, thou most be deed;

  My pitous hand mot smyten of thyn heed.

  Allas! that ever Apius thee say!

  Thus hath he falsly juged thee to-day”—

  And tolde hir al the cas, as ye bifore

  Han herd; nat nedeth for to telle it more.

  “O mercy, dere fader,” quod this mayde,

  And with that word she both hir armes layde

  And also by witnessing of many a person,

  That all was false that said his adversary,

  This cursed judge would no thing tarry,

  Nor hear a word more from Virginius,

  But gave his judgement, and said thus:

  “I deem anon this churl his servant have;

  You shall no longer in your house her keep.

  Go bring her forth, and put her in our ward.

  The churl shall have his thrall, this I award.”

  And when this worthy knight Virginius

  Through sentence of this justice Apius,

  Must by force his dear daughter give

  Unto the judge, in lechery to live,

  He went home, and sat in his hall,

  And then had his dear daughter called,

  And with a face dead as ashes cold,

  Upon her humble face he began to look,

  With father’s pity striking through his heart,

  All would he from his purpose not convert.

  “Daughter,” said he, “Virginia, by your name,

  There be two ways, either death or shame,

  That you must suffer; alas, that I was born!

  For never you deserved for this reason

  To die with a sword or with a knife.

  O dear daughter, ender of my life,

  Whom I have fostered up with such pleasure

  That you were never out of my remembrance!

  Oh daughter, who is my last woe,

  And in my life my last joy also,

  Oh gem of chastity, in patience

  Take you your death, for this is my sentence.

  For love, and not for hate, you must be dead;

  My piteous hand must smite your head.

  Alas, that ever Apius you saw!

  Thus has he falsely judged you today”—

  And told her all the case, as you before