These doubts and fears of female constancy?
This chime still rings in every lady’s ear,
The only strain a wife must hope to hear.’
Thus while she spoke a sidelong glance she cast,
Where Damain kneeling worship’d as she past. 600
She saw him watch the motions of her eye,
And singled out a pear tree planted nigh:
‘T was charged with fruit that made a goodly show,
And hung with dangling pears was every bough.
Thither th’ obsequious Squire address’d his pace, 605
And climbing, in the summit took his place;
The Knight and Lady walk’d beneath in view,
Where let us leave them, and our tale pursue.
‘T was now the season when the glorious sun
His heav’nly progress through the Twins had run; 610
And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields,
To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery fields:
Clear was the day, and Phœbus, rising bright,
Had streak’d the azure firmament with light;
He pierc’d the glitt’ring clouds with golden streams, 615
And warm’d the womb of earth with genial beams.
It so befell, in that fair morning tide
The fairies sported on the garden side,
And in the midst their monarch and his bride.
So featly tripp’d the light-foot Ladies round, 620
The Knights so nimbly o’er the greensward bound,
That scarce they bent the flowers, or touch’d the ground.
The dances ended, all the fairy train
For pinks and daisies search’d the flowery plain,
While on a bank reclin’d of rising green, 625
Thus, with a frown, the King bespoke his Queen.
‘‘T is too apparent, argue what you can,
The treachery you women use to man:
A thousand authors have this truth made out,
And sad experience leaves no room for doubt. 630
‘Heav’n rest thy spirit, noble Solomon,
A wiser Monarch never saw the sun:
All wealth, all honours, the supreme degree
Of earthly bliss, was well bestow’d on thee!
For sagely hast thou said, “Of all mankind, 635
One only just, and righteous, hope to find:
But shouldst thou search the spacious world around,
Yet one good woman is not to be found.”
‘Thus says the King who knew your wickedness;
The son of Sirach testifies no less. 640
So may some wildfire on your bodies fall,
Or some devouring plague consume you all;
As well you view the lecher in the tree,
And well this honourable Knight you see:
But since he ‘s blind and old (a helpless case), 645
His Squire shall cuckold him before your face.
‘Now by my own dread Majesty I swear,
And by this awful sceptre which I bear,
No impious wretch shall ‘scape unpunish’d long,
That in my presence offers such a wrong. 650
I will this instant undeceive the Knight,
And in the very act restore his sight:
And set the strumpet here in open view,
A warning to the ladies, and to you,
And all the faithless sex, for ever to be true.” 655
‘And will you so,’ replied the Queen, ‘indeed?
Now, by my mother’s soul, it is decreed,
She shall not want an answer at her need.
For her, and for her daughters, I ‘ll engage,
And all the sex in each succeeding age; 660
Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence,
And fortify their crimes with confidence.
Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace,
Seen with both eyes, and pinion’d on the place;
All they shall need is to protest and swear, 665
Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear;
Till their wise husbands, gull’d by arts like these,
Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.
‘What tho’ this sland’rous Jew, this Solomon,
Call’d women fools, and knew full many a one? 670
The wiser Wits of later times declare
How constant, chaste, and virtuous women are:
Witness the Martyrs, who resign’d their breath,
Serene in torments, unconcern’d in death;
And witness next what Roman authors tell, 675
How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.
‘But since the sacred leaves to all are free,
And men interpret texts, why should not we?
By this no more was meant than to have shown
That sov’reign goodness dwells in him alone, 680
Who only Is, and is but only One.
But grant the worst; shall women then be weigh’d
By every word that Solomon hath said?
What tho’ this king (as ancient story boasts)
Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts; 685
He ceas’d at last his Maker to adore,
And did as much for idol Gods, or more.
Beware what lavish praises you confer
On a rank lecher and idolater;
Whose reign indulgent God, says Holy Writ, 690
Did but for David’s righteous sake permit;
David, the monarch after Heav’n’s own mind,
Who lov’d our sex, and honour’d all our kind.
‘Well, I ‘m a woman, and as such must speak;
Silence would swell me, and my heart would break. 695
Know, then, I scorn your dull authorities,
Your idle Wits, and all their learned lies:
By Heav’n, those authors are our sex’s foes,
Whom, in our right, I must and will oppose.’
‘Nay (quoth the King) dear madam, be not wroth: 700
I yield it up; but since I gave my oath,
That this much injur’d Knight again should see,
It must be done — I am a King,’ said he,
‘And one whose faith has ever sacred been—’
‘And so has mine (she said) — I am a Queen: 705
Her answer she shall have, I undertake;
And thus an end of all dispute I make.
Try when you list; and you shall find, my lord,
It is not in our sex to break our word.’
We leave them here in this heroic strain, 710
And to the Knight our story turns again;
Who in the garden, with his lovely May,
Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay:
This was his song, ‘O kind and constant be,
Constant and kind I ‘ll ever prove to thee.’ 715
Thus singing as he went, at last he drew
By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew:
The longing dame look’d up, and spied her love
Full fairly perch’d among the boughs above.
She stopp’d, and sighing, ‘O good Gods!’ she cried, 720
‘What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side?
O for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green!
Help, for the love of Heav’n’s immortal Queen!
Help, dearest lord, and save at once the life
Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!’ 725
Sore sigh’d the Knight to hear his lady’s cry,
But could not climb, and had no servant nigh:
Old as he was, and void of eyesight too,
What could, alas! a helpless husband do?
‘And must I languish then (she said), and die, 730
Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye?
At least, kind Sir, for charity’s sweet sake,
Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take,
Then from y
our back I might ascend the tree;
Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.’ 735
‘With all my soul,’ he thus replied again,
‘I ‘d spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.’
With that his back against the trunk he bent;
She seiz’d a twig, and up the tree she went.
Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all! 740
Nor let on me your heavy anger fall:
‘T is truth I tell, tho’ not in phrase refin’d;
Tho’ blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind.
What feats the lady in the tree might do,
I pass, as gambols never known to you; 745
But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore,
Than in her life she ever felt before.
In that nice moment, lo! the wond’ring Knight
Look’d out, and stood restor’d to sudden sight.
Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent, 750
As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent:
But when he saw his bosom-wife so dress’d,
His rage was such as cannot be express’d.
Not frantic mothers when their infants die
With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: 755
He cried, he roar’d, he storm’d, he tore his hair;
‘Death! Hell! and Furies! what dost thou do there?’
‘What ails my lord?’ the trembling dame replied,
‘I thought your patience had been better tried:
Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, 760
This my reward for having cured the blind?
Why was I taught to make my husband see,
By struggling with a man upon a tree?
Did I for this the power of magic prove?
Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!’ 765
‘If this be struggling, by this holy light,
‘T is struggling with a vengeance (quoth the Knight):
So Heav’n preserve the sight it has restored,
As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored;
Whored by my slave — perfidious wretch! may Hell 770
As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.’
‘Guard me, good Angels!’ cried the gentle May,
‘Pray Heav’n this magic work the proper way!
Alas, my love! ‘t is certain, could you see,
You ne’er had used these killing words to me: 775
So help me, Fates! as ‘t is no perfect sight,
But some faint glimm’ring of a doubtful light.’
‘What I have said (quoth he) I must maintain,
For by th’ immortal Powers it seem’d too plain—’
‘By all those Powers, some frenzy seiz’d your mind 780
(Replied the dame): are these the thanks I find?
Wretch that I am, that e’er I was so kind!’
She said; a rising sigh express’d her woe,
The ready tears apace began to flow,
And as they fell she wiped from either eye 785
The drops (for women, when they list, can cry).
The Knight was touch’d; and in his looks appear’d
Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheer’d;
‘Madam, ‘t is past, and my short anger o’er!
Come down, and vex your tender heart no more. 790
Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said,
For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made:
Let my repentance your forgiveness draw;
By Heav’n, I swore but what I thought I saw.’
‘Ah, my lov’d lord! ‘t was much unkind (she cried) 795
On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride.
But till your sight’s establish’d, for a while
Imperfect objects may your sense beguile.
Thus, when from sleep we first our eyes display,
The balls are wounded with the piercing ray, 800
And dusky vapours rise, and intercept the day;
So just recov’ring from the shades of night
Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light,
Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight.
Then, Sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem; 805
Heav’n knows how seldom things are what they seem!
Consult your reason, and you soon shall find
‘T was you were jealous, not your wife unkind:
Jove ne’er spoke oracle more true than this,
None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.’ 810
With that she leap’d into her lord’s embrace,
With well dissembled virtue in her face.
He hugg’d her close, and kiss’d her o’er and o’er,
Disturb’d with doubts and jealousies no more:
Both pleas’d and bless’d, renew’d their mutual vows: 815
A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.
Thus ends our tale; whose moral next to make,
Let all wise husbands hence example take;
And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives,
To be so well deluded by their wives. 820
The Wife of Bath
Her Prologue
Not published until 1714, but naturally classified with January and May, and not improbably the product of the same period.
BEHOLD the woes of matrimonial life,
And hear with rev’rence an experienced wife;
To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due,
And think for once a woman tells you true.
In all these trials I have borne a part: 5
I was myself the scourge that caus’d the smart;
For since fifteen in triumph have I led
Five captive husbands from the church to bed.
Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture says,
And saw but one, ‘t was thought, in all his days; 10
Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice,
No pious Christian ought to marry twice.
But let them read, and solve me if they can,
The words address’d to the Samaritan:
Five times in lawful wedlock she was join’d, 15
And sure the certain stint was ne’er defin’d.
‘Increase and multiply’ was Heav’n’s command,
And that ‘s a text I clearly understand:
This too, ‘Let men their sires and mothers leave,
And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.’ 20
More wives than one by Solomon were tried,
Or else the wisest of mankind’s belied.
I ‘ve had myself full many a merry fit,
And trust in Heav’n I may have many yet;
For when my transitory spouse, unkind, 25
Shall die and leave his woful wife behind,
I ‘ll take the next good Christian I can find.
Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn,
Declared ‘t was better far to wed than burn.
There ‘s danger in assembling fire and tow; 30
I grant ‘em that; and what it means you know.
The same apostle, too, has elsewhere own’d
No precept for virginity he found:
‘T is but a counsel — and we women still
Take which we like, the counsel or our will. 35
I envy not their bliss, if he or she
Think fit to live in perfect chastity:
Pure let them be, and free from taint or vice;
I for a few slight spots am not so nice.
Heav’n calls us diff’rent ways; on these bestows 40
One proper gift, another grants to those;
Not every man’s obliged to sell his store,
And give up all his substance to the poor:
Such as are perfect may, I can’t deny;
But by your leaves, Divines! so am not I. 45
Full many a saint, since first the world began,
Liv’d an unspo
tted maid in spite of man:
Let such (a God’s name) with fine wheat be fed,
And let us honest wives eat barley bread.
For me, I ‘ll keep the post assign’d by Heav’n, 50
And use the copious talent it has giv’n:
Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me right,
And keep an equal reck’ning every night;
His proper body is not his, but mine;
For so said Paul, and Paul’s a sound divine. 55
Know then, of those five husbands I have had,
Three were just tolerable, two were bad.
The three were old, but rich and fond beside,
And toil’d most piteously to please their bride;
But since their wealth (the best they had) was mine, 60
The rest without much loss I could resign:
Sure to be lov’d, I took no pains to please,
Yet had more pleasure far than they had ease.
Presents flow’d in apace: with showers of gold
They made their court, like Jupiter of old: 65
If I but smiled, a sudden youth they found,
And a new palsy seiz’d them when I frown’d.
Ye sov’reign Wives! give ear, and understand:
Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command;
For never was it giv’n to mortal man 70
To lie so boldly as we women can:
Forswear the fact, tho’ seen with both his eyes,
And call your maids to witness how he lies.
Hark, old Sir Paul! (‘t was thus I used to say)
Whence is our neighbour’s wife so rich and gay? 75
Treated, caress’d, where’er she ‘s pleas’d to roam —
I sit in tatters, and immured at home.
Why to her house dost thou so oft repair?
Art thou so am’rous? and is she so fair?
If I but see a cousin or a friend, 80
Lord! how you swell and rage like any fiend!
But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear,
Then preach till midnight in your easy chair;
Cry, wives are false, and every woman evil,
And give up all that ‘s female to the devil. 85
If poor (you say), she drains her husband’s purse;
If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse;
If highly born, intolerably vain,
Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain;
Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic, 90
Freakish when well, and fretful when she ‘s sick.
If fair, then chaste she-cannot long abide,
By pressing youth attack’d on every side;
If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures,
Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures, 95
Or else she dances with becoming grace,
Or shape excuses the defects of face.
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 7