THE PROLOGUE. <1>
“IN faith, Squier, thou hast thee well acquit,And gentilly; I praise well thy wit,”Quoth the Franklin; “considering thy youtheSo feelingly thou speak’st, Sir, I aloue* thee, *allow, approve*As to my doom,* there is none that is here *so far as my judgmentOf eloquence that shall be thy peer, goes*If that thou live; God give thee goode chance,And in virtue send thee continuance,For of thy speaking I have great dainty.* *value, esteemI have a son, and, by the Trinity;*It were me lever* than twenty pound worth land, *I would rather*Though it right now were fallen in my hand,He were a man of such discretionAs that ye be: fy on possession,*But if* a man be virtuous withal. *unlessI have my sone snibbed* and yet shall, *rebuked; “snubbed.”For he to virtue *listeth not t’intend,* *does not wish toBut for to play at dice, and to dispend, apply himself*And lose all that he hath, is his usage;And he had lever talke with a page,Than to commune with any gentle wight,There he might learen gentilless aright.”
Straw for your gentillesse!” quoth our Host.“What? Frankelin, pardie, Sir, well thou wost* *knowestThat each of you must tellen at the leastA tale or two, or breake his behest.”* *promise“That know I well, Sir,” quoth the Frankelin;“I pray you have me not in disdain,Though I to this man speak a word or two.”“Tell on thy tale, withoute wordes mo’.”“Gladly, Sir Host,” quoth he, “I will obeyUnto your will; now hearken what I say;I will you not contrary* in no wise, *disobeyAs far as that my wittes may suffice.I pray to God that it may please you,Then wot I well that it is good enow.
“These olde gentle Bretons, in their days,Of divers aventures made lays,<2>Rhymeden in their firste Breton tongue;Which layes with their instruments they sung,Or elles reade them for their pleasance;And one of them have I in remembrance,Which I shall say with good will as I can.But, Sirs, because I am a borel* man, *rude, unlearnedAt my beginning first I you beseechHave me excused of my rude speech.I learned never rhetoric, certain;Thing that I speak, it must be bare and plain.I slept never on the mount of Parnasso,Nor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero.Coloures know I none, withoute dread,* *doubtBut such colours as growen in the mead,Or elles such as men dye with or paint;Colours of rhetoric be to me quaint;* *strangeMy spirit feeleth not of such mattere.But, if you list, my tale shall ye hear.”
Notes to the Prologue to the Franklin’s Tale
1. In the older editions, the verses here given as the prologuewere prefixed to the Merchant’s Tale, and put into his mouth.Tyrwhitt was abundantly justified, by the internal evidenceafforded by the lines themselves, in transferring them to theirpresent place.
2. The “Breton Lays” were an important and curious element inthe literature of the Middle Ages; they were originallycomposed in the Armorican language, and the chief collectionof them extant was translated into French verse by a poetesscalling herself “Marie,” about the middle of the thirteenthcentury. But though this collection was the most famous, andhad doubtless been read by Chaucer, there were other British orBreton lays, and from one of those the Franklin’s Tale is taken.Boccaccio has dealt with the same story in the “Decameron”and the “Philocopo,” altering the circumstances to suit theremoval of its scene to a southern clime.
THE TALE.
In Armoric’, that called is Bretagne,There was a knight, that lov’d and *did his pain* *devoted himself,To serve a lady in his beste wise; strove*And many a labour, many a great emprise,* *enterpriseHe for his lady wrought, ere she were won:For she was one the fairest under sun,And eke thereto come of so high kindred,That *well unnethes durst this knight for dread,* *see note <1>*Tell her his woe, his pain, and his distressBut, at the last, she for his worthiness,And namely* for his meek obeisance, *especiallyHath such a pity caught of his penance,* *suffering, distressThat privily she fell of his accordTo take him for her husband and her lord(Of such lordship as men have o’er their wives);And, for to lead the more in bliss their lives,Of his free will he swore her as a knight,That never in all his life he day nor nightShould take upon himself no masteryAgainst her will, nor kithe* her jealousy, *showBut her obey, and follow her will in all,As any lover to his lady shall;Save that the name of sovereignetyThat would he have, for shame of his degree.She thanked him, and with full great humblessShe saide; “Sir, since of your gentlenessYe proffer me to have so large a reign,*Ne woulde God never betwixt us twain,As in my guilt, were either war or strife:* *see note <2>*Sir, I will be your humble true wife,Have here my troth, till that my hearte brest.”* *burstThus be they both in quiet and in rest.
For one thing, Sires, safely dare I say,That friends ever each other must obey,If they will longe hold in company.Love will not be constrain’d by mastery.When mast’ry comes, the god of love anonBeateth <3> his wings, and, farewell, he is gone.Love is a thing as any spirit free.Women *of kind* desire liberty, *by nature*And not to be constrained as a thrall,* *slaveAnd so do men, if soothly I say shall.Look who that is most patient in love,He *is at his advantage all above.* *enjoys the highestPatience is a high virtue certain, advantages of all*For it vanquisheth, as these clerkes sayn,Thinges that rigour never should attain.For every word men may not chide or plain.Learne to suffer, or, so may I go,* *prosperYe shall it learn whether ye will or no.For in this world certain no wight there is,That he not doth or saith sometimes amiss.Ire, or sickness, or constellation,* *the influence ofWine, woe, or changing of complexion, the planets*Causeth full oft to do amiss or speaken:On every wrong a man may not be wreaken.* *revengedAfter* the time must be temperance *according toTo every wight that *can of* governance. *is capable of*And therefore hath this worthy wise knight(To live in ease) sufferance her behight;* *promisedAnd she to him full wisly* gan to swear *surelyThat never should there be default in her.Here may men see a humble wife accord;Thus hath she ta’en her servant and her lord,Servant in love, and lord in marriage.Then was he both in lordship and servage?Servage? nay, but in lordship all above,Since he had both his lady and his love:His lady certes, and his wife also,The which that law of love accordeth to.And when he was in this prosperrity,Home with his wife he went to his country,Not far from Penmark,<4> where his dwelling was,And there he liv’d in bliss and in solace.* *delightWho coulde tell, but* he had wedded be, *unlessThe joy, the ease, and the prosperity,That is betwixt a husband and his wife?A year and more lasted this blissful life,Till that this knight, of whom I spake thus,That of Cairrud <5> was call’d Arviragus,Shope* him to go and dwell a year or twain *prepared, arrangedIn Engleland, that call’d was eke Britain,To seek in armes worship and honour(For all his lust* he set in such labour); *pleasureAnd dwelled there two years; the book saith thus.
Now will I stint* of this Arviragus, *cease speakingAnd speak I will of Dorigen his wife,That lov’d her husband as her hearte’s life.For his absence weepeth she and siketh,* *sighethAs do these noble wives when them liketh;She mourneth, waketh, waileth, fasteth, plaineth;Desire of his presence her so distraineth,That all this wide world she set at nought.Her friendes, which that knew her heavy thought,Comforte her in all that ever they may;They preache her, they tell her night and day,That causeless she slays herself, alas!And every comfort possible in this caseThey do to her, with all their business,* *assiduityAnd all to make her leave her heaviness.By process, as ye knowen every one,Men may so longe graven in a stone,Till some figure therein imprinted be:So long have they comforted her, till sheReceived hath, by hope and by reason,Th’ imprinting of their consolation,Through which her greate sorrow gan assuage;She may not always duren in such rage.And eke Arviragus, in all this care,Hath sent his letters home of his welfare,And that he will come hastily again,Or elles had this sorrow her hearty-slain.Her friendes saw her sorrow gin to slake,* *slacken, diminishAnd prayed her on knees for Godde’s sakeTo come and roamen in their company,Away to drive her darke fantasy;And finally she granted that request,For well she saw that it was for the best.
Now stood her castle faste by the sea,And often with her friendes walked she,Her to disport upon the bank on high,There as many a ship and barge sigh,* *sawSailing their courses, where them list to go.But then was that a parcel* of her woe, *partFor to herself full oft, “Alas!” said she,Is there no ship, of so many as I see,Will bringe home my lord? then were my heartAll warish’d* of this bitter paine’s smart.” *cured <6>Another time would she sit and think,And cast her eyen downward from the brink;But when she saw the grisly rockes blake,* *blackFor very fear so would her hearte quake,That on her feet she might her not sustene* *sustainThen would she sit adown upon the green,And piteously *into the sea behold,* *look out on the sea*And say right thus, with *careful sikes* cold: *painful sighs*“Eternal God! that through thy purveyanceLeadest this world by certain governance,*In idle,* as men say, ye nothing make; *idly, in vain*But, Lord, these grisly fiendly rockes blake,That seem rather a foul confusionOf work, than any fair creationOf such a perfect wise God and stable,Why have ye wrought this work unreasonable?For by this work, north, south, or west, or east,There is not foster’d man, nor bird, nor beast:It doth no good, to my wit, but *annoyeth.* *works mischief* <7>See ye not, Lord, how mankind it destroyeth?A hundred thousand bodies of mankindHave rockes slain, *all be they not in mind;* *though they areWhich mankind is so fair part of thy work, forgotten*Thou madest it like to thine owen mark.* *imageThen seemed it ye had a great cherte* *love, affectionToward mankind; but how then may it beThat ye such meanes make it to destroy?Which meanes do no good, but ever annoy.I wot well, clerkes will say as them lest,* *pleaseBy arguments, that all is for the best,Although I can the causes not y-know;But thilke* God that made the wind to blow, *thatAs keep my lord, this is my conclusion:To clerks leave I all disputation:But would to God that all these rockes blakeWere sunken into helle for his sakeThese rockes slay mine hearte for the fear.”Thus would she say, with many a piteous tear.
Her friendes saw that it was no disportTo roame by the sea, but discomfort,And shope* them for to playe somewhere else. *arrangedThey leade her by rivers and by wells,And eke in other places delectables;They dancen, and they play at chess and tables.* *backgammonSo on a day, right in the morning-tide,Unto a garden that was there beside,In which that they had made their ordinance* *provision, arrangementOf victual, and of other purveyance,They go and play them all the longe day:And this was on the sixth morrow of May,Which May had painted with his softe showersThis garden full of leaves and of flowers:And craft of manne’s hand so curiouslyArrayed had this garden truely,That never was there garden of such price,* *value, praise*But if* it were the very Paradise. *unless*Th’odour of flowers, and the freshe sight,Would have maked any hearte lightThat e’er was born, *but if* too great sickness *unless*Or too great sorrow held it in distress;So full it was of beauty and pleasance.And after dinner they began to danceAnd sing also, save Dorigen aloneWho made alway her complaint and her moan,For she saw not him on the dance goThat was her husband, and her love also;But natheless she must a time abideAnd with good hope let her sorrow slide.
Upon this dance, amonge other men,Danced a squier before DorigenThat fresher was, and jollier of array*As to my doom,* than is the month of May. *in my judgment*He sang and danced, passing any man,That is or was since that the world began;Therewith he was, if men should him descrive,One of the *beste faring* men alive, *most accomplished*Young, strong, and virtuous, and rich, and wise,And well beloved, and holden in great price.* *esteem, valueAnd, shortly if the sooth I telle shall,*Unweeting of* this Dorigen at all, *unknown to*This lusty squier, servant to Venus,Which that y-called was Aurelius,Had lov’d her best of any creatureTwo year and more, as was his aventure;* *fortuneBut never durst he tell her his grievance;Withoute cup he drank all his penance.He was despaired, nothing durst he say,Save in his songes somewhat would he wray* *betrayHis woe, as in a general complaining;He said, he lov’d, and was belov’d nothing.Of suche matter made he many lays,Songes, complaintes, roundels, virelays <8>How that he durste not his sorrow tell,But languished, as doth a Fury in hell;And die he must, he said, as did EchoFor Narcissus, that durst not tell her woe.In other manner than ye hear me say,He durste not to her his woe bewray,Save that paraventure sometimes at dances,Where younge folke keep their observances,It may well be he looked on her faceIn such a wise, as man that asketh grace,But nothing wiste she of his intent.Nath’less it happen’d, ere they thennes* went, *thence (from theBecause that he was her neighebour, garden)*And was a man of worship and honour,And she had knowen him *of time yore,* *for a long time*They fell in speech, and forth aye more and moreUnto his purpose drew Aurelius;And when he saw his time, he saide thus:Madam,” quoth he, “by God that this world made,So that I wist it might your hearte glade,* *gladdenI would, that day that your ArviragusWent over sea, that I, Aurelius,Had gone where I should never come again;For well I wot my service is in vain.My guerdon* is but bursting of mine heart. *rewardMadame, rue upon my paine’s smart,For with a word ye may me slay or save.Here at your feet God would that I were grave.I have now no leisure more to say:Have mercy, sweet, or you will *do me dey.”* *cause me to die*
She gan to look upon Aurelius;“Is this your will,” quoth she, “and say ye thus?Ne’er erst,”* quoth she, “I wiste what ye meant: *beforeBut now, Aurelius, I know your intent.By thilke* God that gave me soul and life, *thatNever shall I be an untrue wifeIn word nor work, as far as I have wit;I will be his to whom that I am knit;Take this for final answer as of me.”But after that *in play* thus saide she. *playfully, in jest*“Aurelius,” quoth she, “by high God above,Yet will I grante you to be your love(Since I you see so piteously complain);Looke, what day that endelong* Bretagne *from end to end ofYe remove all the rockes, stone by stone,That they not lette* ship nor boat to gon, *preventI say, when ye have made this coast so cleanOf rockes, that there is no stone seen,Then will I love you best of any man;Have here my troth, in all that ever I can;For well I wot that it shall ne’er betide.Let such folly out of your hearte glide.What dainty* should a man have in his life *value, pleasureFor to go love another manne’s wife,That hath her body when that ever him liketh?”Aurelius full often sore siketh;* *sighethIs there none other grace in you?” quoth he,“No, by that Lord,” quoth she, “that maked me.Woe was Aurelius when that he this heard,And with a sorrowful heart he thus answer’d.“Madame, quoth he, “this were an impossible.Then must I die of sudden death horrible.”And with that word he turned him anon.
Then came her other friends many a one,And in the alleys roamed up and down,And nothing wist of this conclusion,But suddenly began to revel new,Till that the brighte sun had lost his hue,For th’ horizon had reft the sun his light(This is as much to say as it was night);And home they go in mirth and in solace;Save only wretch’d Aurelius, alasHe to his house is gone with sorrowful heart.He said, he may not from his death astart.* *escapeHim seemed, that he felt his hearte cold.Up to the heav’n his handes gan he hold,And on his knees bare he set him down.And in his raving said his orisoun.* *prayerFor very woe out of his wit he braid;* *wanderedHe wist not what he spake, but thus he said;With piteous heart his plaint hath he begunUnto the gods, and first unto the Sun.He said; “Apollo God and governourOf every plante, herbe, tree, and flower,That giv’st, after thy declination,To each of them his time and his season,As thine herberow* changeth low and high; *dwelling, situationLord Phoebus: cast thy merciable eyeOn wretched Aurelius, which that am but lorn.* *undoneLo, lord, my lady hath my death y-sworn,Withoute guilt, but* thy benignity *unlessUpon my deadly heart have some pity.For well I wot, Lord Phoebus, if you lest,* *pleaseYe may me helpe, save my lady, best.Now vouchsafe, that I may you devise* *tell, explainHow that I may be holp,* and in what wise. *helpedYour blissful sister, Lucina the sheen, <9>That of the sea is chief goddess and queen, —Though Neptunus have deity in the sea,Yet emperess above him is she; —Ye know well, lord, that, right as her desireIs to be quick’d* and lighted of your fire, *quickenedFor which she followeth you full busily,Right so the sea desireth naturallyTo follow her, as she that is goddessBoth in the sea and rivers more and less.Wherefore, Lord Phoebus, this is my request,Do this miracle, or *do mine hearte brest;* *cause my heartThat flow, next at this opposition, to burst*Which in the sign shall be of the Lion,As praye her so great a flood to bring,That five fathom at least it overspringThe highest rock in Armoric Bretagne,And let this flood endure yeares twain:Then certes to my lady may I say,“Holde your hest,” the rockes be away.Lord Phoebus, this miracle do for me,Pray her she go no faster course than ye;I say this, pray your sister that she goNo faster course than ye these yeares two:Then shall she be even at full alway,And spring-flood laste bothe night and day.And *but she* vouchesafe in such mannere *if she do not*To grante me my sov’reign lady dear,Pray her to sink every rock adownInto her owen darke regiounUnder the ground, where Pluto dwelleth inOr nevermore shall I my lady win.Thy temple in Delphos will I barefoot seek.Lord Phoebus! see the teares on my cheekAnd on my pain have some compassioun.”And with that word in sorrow he fell down,And longe time he lay forth in a trance.His brother, which that knew of his penance,* *distressUp caught him, and to bed he hath him brought,Despaired in this torment and this thoughtLet I this woeful creature lie;Choose he for me whe’er* he will live or die. *whether
Arviragus with health and great honour(As he that was of chivalry the flow’r)Is come home, and other worthy men.Oh, blissful art thou now, thou Dorigen!Thou hast thy lusty husband in thine arms,The freshe knight, the worthy man of arms,That loveth thee as his own hearte’s life:*Nothing list him to be imaginatif* *he cared not to fancy*If any wight had spoke, while he was out,To her of love; he had of that no doubt;* *fear, suspicionHe not intended* to no such mattere, *occupied himself withBut danced, jousted, and made merry cheer.And thus in joy and bliss I let them dwell,And of the sick Aurelius will I tellIn languor and in torment furiousTwo year and more lay wretch’d Aurelius,Ere any foot on earth he mighte gon;Nor comfort in this time had he none,Save of his brother, which that was a clerk.* *scholarHe knew of all this woe and all this work;For to none other creature certainOf this matter he durst no worde sayn;Under his breast he bare it more secreeThan e’er did Pamphilus for Galatee.<10>His breast was whole withoute for to seen,But in his heart aye was the arrow keen,And well ye know that of a sursanure <11>In surgery is perilous the cure,But* men might touch the arrow or come thereby. *exceptHis brother wept and wailed privily,Till at the last him fell in remembrance,That while he was at Orleans <12> in France, —As younge clerkes, that be likerous* — *eagerTo readen artes that be curious,Seeken in every *halk and every hern* *nook and corner* <13>Particular sciences for to learn,—He him remember’d, that upon a dayAt Orleans in study a book he say* *sawOf magic natural, which his fellaw,That was that time a bachelor of lawAll* were he there to learn another craft, *thoughHad privily upon his desk y-laft;Which book spake much of operationsTouching the eight and-twenty mansionsThat longe to the Moon, and such follyAs in our dayes is not worth a fly;For holy church’s faith, in our believe,* *belief, creedUs suff’reth none illusion to grieve.And when this book was in his remembranceAnon for joy his heart began to dance,And to himself he saide privily;“My brother shall be warish’d* hastily *curedFor I am sicker* that there be sciences, *certainBy which men make divers apparences,Such as these subtle tregetoures play. *tricksters <14>For oft at feaste’s have I well heard say,That tregetours, within a halle large,Have made come in a water and a barge,And in the halle rowen up and down.Sometimes hath seemed come a grim lioun,And sometimes flowers spring as in a mead;Sometimes a vine, and grapes white and red;Sometimes a castle all of lime and stone;And, when them liked, voided* it anon: *vanishedThus seemed it to every manne’s sight.Now then conclude I thus; if that I mightAt Orleans some olde fellow find,That hath these Moone’s mansions in mind,Or other magic natural above.He should well make my brother have his love.For with an appearance a clerk* may make, *learned manTo manne’s sight, that all the rockes blakeOf Bretagne were voided* every one, *removedAnd shippes by the brinke come and gon,And in such form endure a day or two;Then were my brother warish’d* of his woe, *curedThen must she needes *holde her behest,* *keep her promise*Or elles he shall shame her at the least.”Why should I make a longer tale of this?Unto his brother’s bed he comen is,And such comfort he gave him, for to gonTo Orleans, that he upstart anon,And on his way forth-ward then is he fare,* *goneIn hope for to be lissed* of his care. *eased of <15>
When they were come almost to that city,*But if it were* a two furlong or three, *all but*A young clerk roaming by himself they met,Which that in Latin *thriftily them gret.* *greeted themAnd after that he said a wondrous thing; civilly*I know,” quoth he, “the cause of your coming;”Aud ere they farther any foote went,He told them all that was in their intent.The Breton clerk him asked of fellawsThe which he hadde known in olde daws,* *daysAnd he answer’d him that they deade were,For which he wept full often many a tear.Down off his horse Aurelius light anon,And forth with this magician is be goneHome to his house, and made him well at ease;Them lacked no vitail* that might them please. *victuals, foodSo well-array’d a house as there was one,Aurelius in his life saw never none.He shewed him, ere they went to suppere,Forestes, parkes, full of wilde deer.There saw he hartes with their hornes high,The greatest that were ever seen with eye.He saw of them an hundred slain with hounds,And some with arrows bleed of bitter wounds.He saw, when voided* were the wilde deer, *passed awayThese falconers upon a fair rivere,That with their hawkes have the heron slain.Then saw he knightes jousting in a plain.And after this he did him such pleasance,That he him shew’d his lady on a dance,In which himselfe danced, as him thought.And when this master, that this magic wrought,Saw it was time, he clapp’d his handes two,And farewell, all the revel is y-go.* *gone, removedAnd yet remov’d they never out of the house,While they saw all the sightes marvellous;But in his study, where his bookes be,They satte still, and no wight but they three.To him this master called his squier,
And said him thus, “May we go to supper?Almost an hour it is, I undertake,Since I you bade our supper for to make,When that these worthy men wente with meInto my study, where my bookes be.”“Sir,” quoth this squier, “when it liketh you.It is all ready, though ye will right now.”“Go we then sup,” quoth he, “as for the best;These amorous folk some time must have rest.”At after supper fell they in treatyWhat summe should this master’s guerdon* be, *rewardTo remove all the rockes of Bretagne,And eke from Gironde <16> to the mouth of Seine.He made it strange,* and swore, so God him save, *a matter ofLess than a thousand pound he would not have, difficulty**Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon.* *see note <17>*Aurelius with blissful heart anonAnswered thus; “Fie on a thousand pound!This wide world, which that men say is round,I would it give, if I were lord of it.This bargain is full-driv’n, for we be knit;* *agreedYe shall be payed truly by my troth.But looke, for no negligence or sloth,Ye tarry us here no longer than to-morrow.”“Nay,” quoth the clerk, *“have here my faith to borrow.”* *I pledge myTo bed is gone Aurelius when him lest, faith on it*And well-nigh all that night he had his rest,What for his labour, and his hope of bliss,His woeful heart *of penance had a liss.* *had a respite from suffering*Upon the morrow, when that it was day,Unto Bretagne they took the righte way,Aurelius and this magician beside,And be descended where they would abide:And this was, as the bookes me remember,The colde frosty season of December.Phoebus wax’d old, and hued like latoun,* *brassThat in his hote declinatiounShone as the burned gold, with streames* bright; *beamsBut now in Capricorn adown he light,Where as he shone full pale, I dare well sayn.The bitter frostes, with the sleet and rain,Destroyed have the green in every yard. *courtyard, gardenJanus sits by the fire with double beard,And drinketh of his bugle horn the wine:Before him stands the brawn of tusked swineAnd “nowel”* crieth every lusty man *Noel <18>Aurelius, in all that ev’r he can,Did to his master cheer and reverence,And prayed him to do his diligenceTo bringe him out of his paines smart,Or with a sword that he would slit his heart.This subtle clerk such ruth* had on this man, *pityThat night and day he sped him, that he can,To wait a time of his conclusion;This is to say, to make illusion,By such an appearance of jugglery(I know no termes of astrology),That she and every wight should ween and say,That of Bretagne the rockes were away,Or else they were sunken under ground.So at the last he hath a time foundTo make his japes* and his wretchedness *tricksOf such a *superstitious cursedness.* *detestable villainy*His tables Toletanes <19> forth he brought,Full well corrected, that there lacked nought,Neither his collect, nor his expanse years,Neither his rootes, nor his other gears,As be his centres, and his arguments,And his proportional convenientsFor his equations in everything.And by his eighte spheres in his working,He knew full well how far Alnath <20> was shoveFrom the head of that fix’d Aries above,That in the ninthe sphere consider’d is.Full subtilly he calcul’d all this.When he had found his firste mansion,He knew the remnant by proportion;And knew the rising of his moone well,And in whose face, and term, and every deal;And knew full well the moone’s mansionAccordant to his operation;And knew also his other observances,For such illusions and such meschances,* *wicked devicesAs heathen folk used in thilke days.For which no longer made he delays;But through his magic, for a day or tway, <21>It seemed all the rockes were away.
Aurelius, which yet despaired isWhe’er* he shall have his love, or fare amiss, *whetherAwaited night and day on this miracle:And when he knew that there was none obstacle,That voided* were these rockes every one, *removedDown at his master’s feet he fell anon,And said; “I, woeful wretch’d Aurelius,Thank you, my Lord, and lady mine Venus,That me have holpen from my cares cold.”And to the temple his way forth hath he hold,Where as he knew he should his lady see.And when he saw his time, anon right heWith dreadful* heart and with full humble cheer** *fearful **mienSaluteth hath his sovereign lady dear.“My rightful Lady,” quoth this woeful man,“Whom I most dread, and love as I best can,And lothest were of all this world displease,Were’t not that I for you have such disease,* *distress, afflictionThat I must die here at your foot anon,Nought would I tell how me is woebegone.But certes either must I die or plain;* *bewailYe slay me guilteless for very pain.But of my death though that ye have no ruth,Advise you, ere that ye break your truth:Repente you, for thilke God above,Ere ye me slay because that I you love.For, Madame, well ye wot what ye have hight;* *promisedNot that I challenge anything of rightOf you, my sovereign lady, but of grace:But in a garden yond’, in such a place,Ye wot right well what ye behighte* me, *promisedAnd in mine hand your trothe plighted ye,To love me best; God wot ye saide so,Albeit that I unworthy am thereto;Madame, I speak it for th’ honour of you,More than to save my hearte’s life right now;I have done so as ye commanded me,And if ye vouchesafe, ye may go see.Do as you list, have your behest in mind,For, quick or dead, right there ye shall me find;In you hes all to *do me live or dey;* *cause me toBut well I wot the rockes be away.” live or die*
He took his leave, and she astonish’d stood;In all her face was not one drop of blood:She never ween’d t’have come in such a trap.“Alas!” quoth she, “that ever this should hap!For ween’d I ne’er, by possibility,That such a monster or marvail might be;It is against the process of nature.”And home she went a sorrowful creature;For very fear unnethes* may she go. *scarcelyShe weeped, wailed, all a day or two,And swooned, that it ruthe was to see:But why it was, to no wight tolde she,For out of town was gone Arviragus.But to herself she spake, and saide thus,With face pale, and full sorrowful cheer,In her complaint, as ye shall after hear.“Alas!” quoth she, “on thee, Fortune, I plain,* *complainThat unware hast me wrapped in thy chain,From which to scape, wot I no succour,Save only death, or elles dishonour;One of these two behoveth me to choose.But natheless, yet had I lever* lose *sooner, ratherMy life, than of my body have shame,Or know myselfe false, or lose my name;And with my death *I may be quit y-wis.* *I may certainly purchaseHath there not many a noble wife, ere this, my exemption*And many a maiden, slain herself, alas!Rather than with her body do trespass?Yes, certes; lo, these stories bear witness. <22>When thirty tyrants full of cursedness* *wickednessHad slain Phidon in Athens at the feast,They commanded his daughters to arrest,And bringe them before them, in despite,All naked, to fulfil their foul delight;And in their father’s blood they made them danceUpon the pavement, — God give them mischance.For which these woeful maidens, full of dread,Rather than they would lose their maidenhead,They privily *be start* into a well, *suddenly leapedAnd drowned themselves, as the bookes tell.They of Messene let inquire and seekOf Lacedaemon fifty maidens eke,On which they woulde do their lechery:But there was none of all that companyThat was not slain, and with a glad intentChose rather for to die, than to assentTo be oppressed* of her maidenhead. *forcibly bereftWhy should I then to dien be in dread?Lo, eke the tyrant Aristoclides,That lov’d a maiden hight Stimphalides,When that her father slain was on a night,Unto Diana’s temple went she right,And hent* the image in her handes two, *caught, claspedFrom which image she woulde never go;No wight her handes might off it arace,* *pluck away by forceTill she was slain right in the selfe* place. *sameNow since that maidens hadde such despiteTo be defouled with man’s foul delight,Well ought a wife rather herself to sle,* *slayThan be defouled, as it thinketh me.What shall I say of Hasdrubale’s wife,That at Carthage bereft herself of life?For, when she saw the Romans win the town,She took her children all, and skipt adownInto the fire, and rather chose to die,Than any Roman did her villainy.Hath not Lucretia slain herself, alas!At Rome, when that she oppressed* was *ravishedOf Tarquin? for her thought it was a shameTo live, when she hadde lost her name.The seven maidens of Milesie alsoHave slain themselves for very dread and woe,Rather than folk of Gaul them should oppress.More than a thousand stories, as I guess,Could I now tell as touching this mattere.When Abradate was slain, his wife so dear <23>Herselfe slew, and let her blood to glideIn Abradate’s woundes, deep and wide,And said, ‘My body at the leaste wayThere shall no wight defoul, if that I may.’Why should I more examples hereof sayn?Since that so many have themselves slain,Well rather than they would defouled be,I will conclude that it is bet* for me *betterTo slay myself, than be defouled thus.I will be true unto Arviragus,Or elles slay myself in some mannere,As did Demotione’s daughter dear,Because she woulde not defouled be.O Sedasus, it is full great pityTo reade how thy daughters died, alas!That slew themselves *for suche manner cas.* *in circumstances ofAs great a pity was it, or well more, the same kind*The Theban maiden, that for NicanorHerselfe slew, right for such manner woe.Another Theban maiden did right so;For one of Macedon had her oppress’d,She with her death her maidenhead redress’d.* *vindicatedWhat shall I say of Niceratus’ wife,That for such case bereft herself her life?How true was eke to AlcibiadesHis love, that for to dien rather chese,* *choseThan for to suffer his body unburied be?Lo, what a wife was Alceste?” quoth she.“What saith Homer of good Penelope?All Greece knoweth of her chastity.Pardie, of Laedamia is written thus,That when at Troy was slain Protesilaus, <24>No longer would she live after his day.The same of noble Porcia tell I may;Withoute Brutus coulde she not live,To whom she did all whole her hearte give. <25>The perfect wifehood of Artemisie <26>Honoured is throughout all Barbarie.O Teuta <27> queen, thy wifely chastityTo alle wives may a mirror be.” <28>
Thus plained Dorigen a day or tway,Purposing ever that she woulde dey;* *dieBut natheless upon the thirde nightHome came Arviragus, the worthy knight,And asked her why that she wept so sore.And she gan weepen ever longer more.“Alas,” quoth she, “that ever I was born!Thus have I said,” quoth she; “thus have I sworn. “And told him all, as ye have heard before:It needeth not rehearse it you no more.This husband with glad cheer,* in friendly wise, *demeanourAnswer’d and said, as I shall you devise.* *relate“Is there aught elles, Dorigen, but this?”“Nay, nay,” quoth she, “God help me so, *as wis* *assuredly*This is too much, an* it were Godde’s will.” *if“Yea, wife,” quoth he, “let sleepe what is still,It may be well par’venture yet to-day.Ye shall your trothe holde, by my fay.For, God so wisly* have mercy on me, *certainly*I had well lever sticked for to be,* *I had rather be slain*For very love which I to you have,But if ye should your trothe keep and save.Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.”But with that word he burst anon to weep,And said; “I you forbid, on pain of death,That never, while you lasteth life or breath,To no wight tell ye this misaventure;As I may best, I will my woe endure,Nor make no countenance of heaviness,That folk of you may deeme harm, or guess.”And forth he call’d a squier and a maid.“Go forth anon with Dorigen,” he said,“And bringe her to such a place anon.”They take their leave, and on their way they gon:But they not wiste why she thither went;He would to no wight telle his intent.
This squier, which that hight Aurelius,On Dorigen that was so amorous,Of aventure happen’d her to meetAmid the town, right in the quickest* street, *nearestAs she was bound* to go the way forthright *prepared, going <29>Toward the garden, there as she had hight.* *promisedAnd he was to the garden-ward also;For well he spied when she woulde goOut of her house, to any manner place;But thus they met, of aventure or grace,And he saluted her with glad intent,And asked of her whitherward she went.And she answered, half as she were mad,“Unto the garden, as my husband bade,My trothe for to hold, alas! alas!”Aurelius gan to wonder on this case,And in his heart had great compassionOf her, and of her lamentation,And of Arviragus, the worthy knight,That bade her hold all that she hadde hight;So loth him was his wife should break her truth* *troth, pledged wordAnd in his heart he caught of it great ruth,* *pityConsidering the best on every side,*That from his lust yet were him lever abide,* *see note <30>*Than do so high a churlish wretchedness* *wickednessAgainst franchise,* and alle gentleness; *generosityFor which in fewe words he saide thus;“Madame, say to your lord Arviragus,That since I see the greate gentlenessOf him, and eke I see well your distress,That him were lever* have shame (and that were ruth)** *rather **pityThan ye to me should breake thus your truth,I had well lever aye* to suffer woe, *foreverThan to depart* the love betwixt you two. *sunder, split upI you release, Madame, into your hond,Quit ev’ry surement* and ev’ry bond, *suretyThat ye have made to me as herebeforn,Since thilke time that ye were born.Have here my truth, I shall you ne’er repreve* *reproach*Of no behest;* and here I take my leave, *of no (breach of)As of the truest and the beste wife promise*That ever yet I knew in all my life.But every wife beware of her behest;On Dorigen remember at the least.Thus can a squier do a gentle deed,As well as can a knight, withoute drede.”* *doubt
She thanked him upon her knees bare,And home unto her husband is she fare,* *goneAnd told him all, as ye have hearde said;And, truste me, he was so *well apaid,* *satisfied*That it were impossible me to write.Why should I longer of this case indite?Arviragus and Dorigen his wifeIn sov’reign blisse ledde forth their life;Ne’er after was there anger them between;He cherish’d her as though she were a queen,And she was to him true for evermore;Of these two folk ye get of me no more.
Aurelius, that his cost had *all forlorn,* *utterly lost*Cursed the time that ever he was born.“Alas!” quoth he, “alas that I behight* *promisedOf pured* gold a thousand pound of weight *refinedTo this philosopher! how shall I do?I see no more, but that I am fordo.* *ruined, undoneMine heritage must I needes sell,And be a beggar; here I will not dwell,And shamen all my kindred in this place,But* I of him may gette better grace. *unlessBut natheless I will of him assayAt certain dayes year by year to pay,And thank him of his greate courtesy.My trothe will I keep, I will not he.”With hearte sore he went unto his coffer,And broughte gold unto this philosopher,The value of five hundred pound, I guess,And him beseeched, of his gentleness,To grant him *dayes of* the remenant; *time to pay up*And said; “Master, I dare well make avaunt,I failed never of my truth as yet.For sickerly my debte shall be quitTowardes you how so that e’er I fareTo go a-begging in my kirtle bare:But would ye vouchesafe, upon surety,Two year, or three, for to respite me,Then were I well, for elles must I sellMine heritage; there is no more to tell.”
This philosopher soberly* answer’d, *gravelyAnd saide thus, when he these wordes heard;“Have I not holden covenant to thee?”“Yes, certes, well and truely,” quoth he.“Hast thou not had thy lady as thee liked?”“No, no,” quoth he, and sorrowfully siked.* *sighed“What was the cause? tell me if thou can.”Aurelius his tale anon began,And told him all as ye have heard before,It needeth not to you rehearse it more.He said, “Arviragus of gentlenessHad lever* die in sorrow and distress, *ratherThan that his wife were of her trothe false.”The sorrow of Dorigen he told him als’,* *alsoHow loth her was to be a wicked wife,And that she lever had lost that day her life;And that her troth she swore through innocence;She ne’er erst* had heard speak of apparence** *before **see note <31>That made me have of her so great pity,And right as freely as he sent her to me,As freely sent I her to him again:This is all and some, there is no more to sayn.”
The philosopher answer’d; “Leve* brother, *dearEvereach of you did gently to the other;Thou art a squier, and he is a knight,But God forbidde, for his blissful might,But if a clerk could do a gentle deedAs well as any of you, it is no drede* *doubtSir, I release thee thy thousand pound,As thou right now were crept out of the ground,Nor ever ere now haddest knowen me.For, Sir, I will not take a penny of theeFor all my craft, nor naught for my travail;* *labour, painsThou hast y-payed well for my vitaille;It is enough; and farewell, have good day.”And took his horse, and forth he went his way.Lordings, this question would I aske now,Which was the moste free,* as thinketh you? *generous <32>Now telle me, ere that ye farther wend.I can* no more, my tale is at an end. *know, can tell
Notes to The Franklin’s Tale
1. Well unnethes durst this knight for dread: This knight hardlydared, for fear (that she would not entertain his suit.)
2. “Ne woulde God never betwixt us twain,As in my guilt, were either war or strife”Would to God there may never be war or strife between us,through my fault.
3. Perhaps the true reading is “beteth” — prepares, makes ready,his wings for flight.
4. Penmark: On the west coast of Brittany, between Brest andL’Orient. The name is composed of two British words, “pen,”mountain, and “mark,” region; it therefore means themountainous country
5. Cairrud: “The red city;” it is not known where it wassituated.
6. Warished: cured; French, “guerir,” to heal, or recover fromsickness.
- Annoyeth: works mischief; from Latin, “nocco,” I hurt.
8. Virelays: ballads; the “virelai” was an ancient French poemof two rhymes.
9. Lucina the sheen: Diana the bright. See note 54 to theKnight’s Tale.
10. In a Latin poem, very popular in Chaucer’s time, Pamphilusrelates his amour with Galatea, setting out with the ideaadopted by our poet in the lines that follow.
11. Sursanure: A wound healed on the surface, but festeringbeneath.
12. Orleans: Where there was a celebrated and very famousuniversity, afterwards eclipsed by that of Paris. It was foundedby Philip le Bel in 1312.
13. Every halk and every hern: Every nook and corner, Anglo-Saxon, “healc,” a nook; “hyrn,” a corner.
14. Tregetoures: tricksters, jugglers. The word is probablyderived — in “treget,” deceit or imposture — from the French“trebuchet,” a military machine; since it is evident that much andelaborate machinery must have been employed to produce theeffects afterwards described. Another derivation is from theLow Latin, “tricator,” a deceiver.
15. Lissed of: eased of; released from; another form of “less” or“lessen.”
16. Gironde: The river, formed by the union of the Dordogneand Garonne, on which Bourdeaux stands.
17. Nor gladly for that sum he would not gon: And even forthat sum he would not willingly go to work.
18. “Noel,” the French for Christmas — derived from “natalis,”and signifying that on that day Christ was born — came to beused as a festive cry by the people on solemn occasions.
19. Tables Toletanes: Toledan tables; the astronomical tablescomposed by order Of Alphonso II, King of Castile, about 1250and so called because they were adapted to the city of Toledo.
20. “Alnath,” Says Mr Wright, was “the first star in the horns ofAries, whence the first mansion of the moon is named.”
- Another and better reading is “a week or two.”
22. These stories are all taken from the book of St Jerome“Contra Jovinianum,” from which the Wife of Bath drew somany of her ancient instances. See note 1 to the prologue to theWife of Bath’s Tale.
23. Panthea. Abradatas, King of Susa, was an ally of theAssyrians against Cyrus; and his wife was taken at the conquestof the Assyrian camp. Struck by the honourable treatment shereceived at the captors hands, Abradatas joined Cyrus, and fellin battle against his former alhes. His wife, inconsolable at hisloss, slew herself immediately.
24. Protesilaus was the husband of Laedamia. She begged thegods, after his death, that but three hours’ converse with himmight be allowed her; the request was granted; and when herdead husband, at the expiry of the time, returned to the world ofshades, she bore him company.
25. The daughter of Cato of Utica, Porcia married MarcusBrutus, the friend and the assassin of Julius Caesar; when herhusband died by his own hand after the battle of Philippi, shecommitted suicide, it is said, by swallowing live coals — allother means having been removed by her friends.
26. Artemisia, Queen of Caria, who built to her husbandMausolus, the splendid monument which was accounted amongthe wonders of the world; and who mingled her husband’s asheswith her daily drink. “Barbarie” is used in the Greek sense, todesignate the non-Hellenic peoples of Asia.
27. Teuta: Queen of Illyria, who, after her husband’s death,made war on and was conquered by the Romans, B.C 228.
28. At this point, in some manuscripts, occur thefollowing twolines: —“The same thing I say of Bilia,Of Rhodegone and of Valeria.”
29. Bound: prepared; going. To “boun” or “bown” is a goodold word, whence comes our word “bound,” in the sense of “onthe way.”
30. That from his lust yet were him lever abide: He wouldrather do without his pleasure.
31. Such apparence: such an ocular deception, or apparition —more properly, disappearance — as the removal of the rocks.
32. The same question is stated a the end of Boccaccio’s versionof the story in the “Philocopo,” where the queen determines infavour of Aviragus. The question is evidently one of thosewhich it was the fashion to propose for debate in the mediaeval“courts of love.”