by Homer
And but1 thou pore alway upon my face, 1unless
And call me faire dame in every place;
And but1 thou make a feast on thilke2 day 1unless 2that
That I was born, and make me fresh and gay;
And but thou do to my norice1 honour, 1nurse
And to my chamberere1 within my bow’r, 1chamber-maid
And to my father’s folk, and mine allies;1 1relations
Thus sayest thou, old barrel full of lies.
And yet also of our prentice Jenkin,
For his crisp hair, shining as gold so fine,
And for he squireth me both up and down,
Yet hast thou caught a false suspicioun:
I will him not, though thou wert dead to-morrow.
But tell me this, why hidest thou, 1with sorrow,1 1sorrow on thee!1
The keyes of thy chest away from me?
It is my good1 as well as thine, pardie. 1property
What, think’st to make an idiot of our dame?
Now, by that lord that called is Saint Jame,
Thou shalt not both, although that thou wert wood,1 1furious
Be master of my body, and my good,1 1property
The one thou shalt forego, maugre1 thine eyen. 1in spite of
What helpeth it of me t’inquire and spyen?
I trow thou wouldest lock me in thy chest.
Thou shouldest say, ‘Fair wife, go where thee lest;
Take your disport; I will believe no tales;
I know you for a true wife, Dame Ales.’1 1Alice
We love no man, that taketh keep1 or charge 1care
Where that we go; we will be at our large.
Of alle men most blessed may he be,
The wise astrologer Dan1 Ptolemy, 1Lord
That saith this proverb in his Almagest:
‘Of alle men his wisdom is highest,
That recketh not who hath the world in hand.
By this proverb thou shalt well understand,
Have thou enough, what thar1 thee reck or care 1needs, behoves
How merrily that other folkes fare?
For certes, olde dotard, by your leave,
Ye shall have [pleasure] right enough at eve.
He is too great a niggard that will werne1 1forbid
A man to light a candle at his lantern;
He shall have never the less light, pardie.
Have thou enough, thee thar1 not plaine2 thee 1need 2complain
Thou say’st also, if that we make us gay
With clothing and with precious array,
That it is peril of our chastity.
And yet, — with sorrow! — thou enforcest thee,
And say’st these words in the apostle’s name:
‘In habit made with chastity and shame1 1modesty
Ye women shall apparel you,’ quoth he,
‘And not in tressed hair and gay perrie,1 1jewels
As pearles, nor with gold, nor clothes rich.’
After thy text nor after thy rubrich
I will not work as muchel as a gnat.
Thou say’st also, I walk out like a cat;
For whoso woulde singe the catte’s skin
Then will the catte well dwell in her inn;1 1house
And if the catte’s skin be sleek and gay,
She will not dwell in house half a day,
But forth she will, ere any day be daw’d,
To shew her skin, and go a caterwaw’d.1 1caterwauling
This is to say, if I be gay, sir shrew,
I will run out, my borel1 for to shew. 1apparel, fine clothes
Sir olde fool, what helpeth thee to spyen?
Though thou pray Argus with his hundred eyen
To be my wardecorps,1 as he can best 1body-guard
In faith he shall not keep me, 1but me lest:1 1unless I please1
Yet could I 1make his beard,1 so may I the. 1make a jest of him1
“Thou sayest eke, that there be thinges three, 1thrive
Which thinges greatly trouble all this earth,
And that no wighte may endure the ferth:1 1fourth
O lefe1 sir shrew, may Jesus short2 thy life. 1pleasant 2shorten
Yet preachest thou, and say’st, a hateful wife
Y-reckon’d is for one of these mischances.
Be there 1none other manner resemblances1 1no other kind of
That ye may liken your parables unto, comparison1
But if a silly wife be one of tho?1 1those
Thou likenest a woman’s love to hell;
To barren land where water may not dwell.
Thou likenest it also to wild fire;
The more it burns, the more it hath desire
To consume every thing that burnt will be.
Thou sayest, right as wormes shend1 a tree, 1destroy
Right so a wife destroyeth her husbond;
This know they well that be to wives bond.”
Lordings, right thus, as ye have understand,
1Bare I stiffly mine old husbands on hand,1 1made them believe1
That thus they saiden in their drunkenness;
And all was false, but that I took witness
On Jenkin, and upon my niece also.
O Lord! the pain I did them, and the woe,
‘Full guilteless, by Godde’s sweete pine;1 1pain
For as a horse I coulde bite and whine;
I coulde plain,1 an’2 I was in the guilt, 1complain 2even though
Or elles oftentime I had been spilt1 1ruined
Whoso first cometh to the nilll, first grint;1 1is ground
I plained first, so was our war y-stint.1 1stopped
They were full glad to excuse them full blive1 1quickly
Of things that they never 1aguilt their live.1 1were guilty in their
lives1
Of wenches would I 1beare them on hand,1 1falsely accuse them1
When that for sickness scarcely might they stand,
Yet tickled I his hearte for that he
Ween’d1 that I had of him so great cherte:2 1though 2affection
I swore that all my walking out by night
Was for to espy wenches that he dight:1 1adorned
Under that colour had I many a mirth.
For all such wit is given us at birth;
Deceit, weeping, and spinning, God doth give
To women kindly, while that they may live. 1naturally
And thus of one thing I may vaunte me,
At th’ end I had the better in each degree,
By sleight, or force, or by some manner thing,
As by continual murmur or grudging,1 1complaining
Namely1 a-bed, there hadde they mischance, 1especially
There would I chide, and do them no pleasance:
I would no longer in the bed abide,
If that I felt his arm over my side,
Till he had made his ransom unto me,
Then would I suffer him do his nicety.1 1folly
And therefore every man this tale I tell,
Win whoso may, for all is for to sell;
With empty hand men may no hawkes lure;
For winning would I all his will endure,
And make me a feigned appetite,
And yet in bacon1 had I never delight: 1i.e. of Dunmow
That made me that I ever would them chide.
For, though the Pope had sitten them beside,
I would not spare them at their owen board,
For, by my troth, I quit1 them word for word 1repaid
As help me very God omnipotent,
Though I right now should make my testament
I owe them not a word, that is not quit1 1repaid
I brought it so aboute by my wit,
That they must give it up, as for the best
Or elles had we never been in rest.
For, though he looked as a wood1 lion, 1furious
Yet should he fail of his conclusion.
Then would I say, “Now, goode lefe1 tak keep2 1de
ar 2heed
How meekly looketh Wilken oure sheep!
Come near, my spouse, and let me ba1 thy cheek 1kiss
Ye shoulde be all patient and meek,
And have a 1sweet y-spiced1 conscience, 1tender, nice1
Since ye so preach of Jobe’s patience.
Suffer alway, since ye so well can preach,
And but1 ye do, certain we shall you teach1 1unless
That it is fair to have a wife in peace.
One of us two must bowe1 doubteless: 1give way
And since a man is more reasonable
Than woman is, ye must be suff’rable.
What aileth you to grudge1 thus and groan? 1complain
Is it for ye would have my [love] alone?
Why, take it all: lo, have it every deal,1 1whit
Peter! shrew1 you but ye love it well 1curse
For if I woulde sell my 1belle chose1, 1beautiful thing1
I coulde walk as fresh as is a rose,
But I will keep it for your owen tooth.
Ye be to blame, by God, I say you sooth.”
Such manner wordes hadde we on hand.
Now will I speaken of my fourth husband.
My fourthe husband was a revellour;
This is to say, he had a paramour,
And I was young and full of ragerie,1 1wantonness
Stubborn and strong, and jolly as a pie.1 1magpie
Then could I dance to a harpe smale,
And sing, y-wis,1 as any nightingale, 1certainly
When I had drunk a draught of sweete wine.
Metellius, the foule churl, the swine,
That with a staff bereft his wife of life
For she drank wine, though I had been his wife,
Never should he have daunted me from drink:
And, after wine, of Venus most I think.
For all so sure as cold engenders hail,
A liquorish mouth must have a liquorish tail.
In woman vinolent1 is no defence,2 1full of wine 1resistance
This knowe lechours by experience.
But, lord Christ, when that it rememb’reth me
Upon my youth, and on my jollity,
It tickleth me about mine hearte-root;
Unto this day it doth mine hearte boot,1 1good
That I have had my world as in my time.
But age, alas! that all will envenime,1 1poison, embitter
Hath me bereft my beauty and my pith:1 1vigour
Let go; farewell; the devil go therewith.
The flour is gon, there is no more to tell,
The bran, as I best may, now must I sell.
But yet to be right merry will I fand.1 1try
Now forth to tell you of my fourth husband,
I say, I in my heart had great despite,
That he of any other had delight;
But he was quit,1 by God and by Saint Joce: 1requited, paid back
I made for him of the same wood a cross;
Not of my body in no foul mannere,
But certainly I made folk such cheer,
That in his owen grease I made him fry
For anger, and for very jealousy.
By God, in earth I was his purgatory,
For which I hope his soul may be in glory.
For, God it wot, he sat full oft and sung,
When that his shoe full bitterly him wrung.1 1pinched
There was no wight, save God and he, that wist
In many wise how sore I did him twist.
He died when I came from Jerusalem,
And lies in grave under the 1roode beam:1 1cross1
Although his tomb is not so curious
As was the sepulchre of Darius,
Which that Apelles wrought so subtlely.
It is but waste to bury them preciously.
Let him fare well, God give his soule rest,
He is now in his grave and in his chest.
Now of my fifthe husband will I tell:
God let his soul never come into hell.
And yet was he to me the moste shrew;1 1cruel, ill-tempered
That feel I on my ribbes all 1by rew,1 1in a row
And ever shall, until mine ending day.
But in our bed he was so fresh and gay,
And therewithal so well he could me glose,1 1flatter
When that he woulde have my belle chose,
Though he had beaten me on every bone,
Yet could he win again my love anon.
I trow, I lov’d him better, for that he
Was of his love so dangerous1 to me. 1sparing, difficult
We women have, if that I shall not lie,
In this matter a quainte fantasy.
Whatever thing we may not lightly have,
Thereafter will we cry all day and crave.
Forbid us thing, and that desire we;
Press on us fast, and thenne will we flee.
With danger1 utter we all our chaffare;2 1difficulty 2merchandise
Great press at market maketh deare ware,
And too great cheap is held at little price;
This knoweth every woman that is wise.
My fifthe husband, God his soule bless,
Which that I took for love and no richess,
He some time was 1a clerk of Oxenford,1 1a scholar of Oxford1
And had left school, and went at home to board
With my gossip,1 dwelling in oure town: 1godmother
God have her soul, her name was Alisoun.
She knew my heart, and all my privity,
Bet than our parish priest, so may I the.1 1thrive
To her betrayed I my counsel all;
For had my husband pissed on a wall,
Or done a thing that should have cost his life,
To her, and to another worthy wife,
And to my niece, which that I loved well,
I would have told his counsel every deal.1 1jot
And so I did full often, God it wot,
That made his face full often red and hot
For very shame, and blam’d himself, for he
Had told to me so great a privity.1 1secret
And so befell that ones in a Lent
(So oftentimes I to my gossip went,
For ever yet I loved to be gay,
And for to walk in March, April, and May
From house to house, to heare sundry tales),
That Jenkin clerk, and my gossip, Dame Ales,
And I myself, into the fieldes went.
Mine husband was at London all that Lent;
I had the better leisure for to play,
And for to see, and eke for to be sey1 1seen
Of lusty folk; what wist I where my grace1 1favour
Was shapen for to be, or in what place? 1appointed
Therefore made I my visitations
To vigilies,1 and to processions, 1festival-eves
To preachings eke, and to these pilgrimages,
To plays of miracles, and marriages,
And weared upon me gay scarlet gites.1 1gowns
These wormes, nor these mothes, nor these mites
On my apparel frett1 them never a deal2 1fed 2whit
And know’st thou why? for they were used1 well. 1worn
Now will I telle forth what happen’d me:
I say, that in the fieldes walked we,
Till truely we had such dalliance,
This clerk and I, that of my purveyance1 1foresight
I spake to him, and told him how that he,
If I were widow, shoulde wedde me.
For certainly, I say for no bobance,1 1boasting
Yet was I never without purveyance1 1foresight
Of marriage, nor of other thinges eke:
I hold a mouse’s wit not worth a leek,
That hath but one hole for to starte1 to, 1escape
And if that faile, then is all y-do.1 1done
[1I bare him on hand1 he had enchanted me 1falsely assured him1
And eke I said, I mette1 of him all night, 1dreamed
He would have slain me, as I lay upright,
And all my bed was full of very blood;
But yet I hop’d that he should do me good;
For blood betoken’d gold, as me was taught.
And all was false, I dream’d of him right naught,
But as I follow’d aye my dame’s lore,
As well of that as of other things more.]
But now, sir, let me see, what shall I sayn?
Aha! by God, I have my tale again.
When that my fourthe husband was on bier,
I wept algate1 and made a sorry cheer,2 1always 2countenance
As wives must, for it is the usage;
And with my kerchief covered my visage;
But, for I was provided with a make,1 1mate
I wept but little, that I undertake1 1promise
To churche was mine husband borne a-morrow
With neighebours that for him made sorrow,
And Jenkin, oure clerk, was one of tho:1 1those
As help me God, when that I saw him go
After the bier, methought he had a pair
Of legges and of feet so clean and fair,
That all my heart I gave unto his hold.1 1keeping
He was, I trow, a twenty winter old,
And I was forty, if I shall say sooth,
But yet I had always a colte’s tooth.
Gat-toothed1 I was, and that became me well, 1see note
I had the print of Sainte Venus’ seal.
[As help me God, I was a lusty one,
And fair, and rich, and young, and 1well begone:1 1in a good way1
For certes I am all venerian1 1under the influence of Venus
In feeling, and my heart is martian;1 1under the influence of Mars
Venus me gave my lust and liquorishness,
And Mars gave me my sturdy hardiness.]
Mine ascendant was Taure,1 and Mars therein: 1Taurus
Alas, alas, that ever love was sin!
I follow’d aye mine inclination
By virtue of my constellation:
That made me that I coulde not withdraw
My chamber of Venus from a good fellaw.
[Yet have I Marte’s mark upon my face,
And also in another privy place.
For God so wisly1 be my salvation, 1certainly
I loved never by discretion,
But ever follow’d mine own appetite,
All1 were he short, or long, or black, or white, 1whether
I took no keep,1 so that he liked me, 1heed
How poor he was, neither of what degree.]
What should I say? but that at the month’s end
This jolly clerk Jenkin, that was so hend,1 1courteous
Had wedded me with great solemnity,