Canterbury Tales and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📖

in truth of marriage;

And said his orisons, as is usage,

And crouched* them, and prayed God should them bless, crossed And made all sicker enough with holiness. *certain Thus be they wedded with solemnity;

And at the feaste sat both he and she, With other worthy folk, upon the dais.

All full of joy and bliss is the palace, And full of instruments, and of vitaille, victuals, food The moste dainteous* of all Itale. *delicate Before them stood such instruments of soun’, That Orpheus, nor of Thebes Amphioun,

Ne made never such a melody.

At every course came in loud minstrelsy, That never Joab trumped for to hear,

Nor he, Theodomas, yet half so clear

At Thebes, when the city was in doubt.

Bacchus the wine them skinked* all about. *poured <9>

And Venus laughed upon every wight

(For January was become her knight,

And woulde both assaye his courage

In liberty, and eke in marriage),

And with her firebrand in her hand about Danced before the bride and all the rout.

And certainly I dare right well say this, Hymeneus, that god of wedding is,

Saw never his life so merry a wedded man.

Hold thou thy peace, thou poet Marcian,<10>

That writest us that ilke* wedding merry *same Of her Philology and him Mercury,

And of the songes that the Muses sung; Too small is both thy pen, and eke thy tongue For to describen of this marriage.

When tender youth hath wedded stooping age, There is such mirth that it may not be writ; Assay it youreself, then may ye wit know If that I lie or no in this mattere.

 

Maius, that sat with so benign a cheer, countenance Her to behold it seemed faerie;

Queen Esther never look’d with such an eye On Assuere, so meek a look had she;

I may you not devise all her beauty;

But thus much of her beauty tell I may, That she was hike the bright morrow of May Full filled of all beauty and pleasance.

This January is ravish’d in a trance,

At every time he looked in her face;

But in his heart he gan her to menace, That he that night in armes would her strain Harder than ever Paris did Helene.

But natheless yet had he great pity

That thilke night offende her must he, And thought, “Alas, O tender creature, Now woulde God ye mighte well endure

All my courage, it is so sharp and keen; I am aghast* ye shall it not sustene. *afraid But God forbid that I did all my might.

Now woulde God that it were waxen night, And that the night would lasten evermo’.

I would that all this people were y-go.” gone away And finally he did all his labour,

As he best mighte, saving his honour,

To haste them from the meat in subtle wise.

 

The time came that reason was to rise; And after that men dance, and drinke fast, And spices all about the house they cast, And full of joy and bliss is every man, All but a squire, that highte Damian,

Who carv’d before the knight full many a day; He was so ravish’d on his lady May,

That for the very pain he was nigh wood; mad Almost he swelt* and swooned where he stood, *fainted So sore had Venus hurt him with her brand, As that she bare it dancing in her hand.

And to his bed he went him hastily;

No more of him as at this time speak I; But there I let him weep enough and plain, bewail Till freshe May will rue upon his pain.

O perilous fire, that in the bedstraw breedeth!

O foe familiar,* that his service bedeth!* domestic <11> **offers O servant traitor, O false homely hewe, servant <12>

Like to the adder in bosom shy untrue, God shield us alle from your acquaintance!

O January, drunken in pleasance

Of marriage, see how thy Damian,

Thine owen squier and thy boren* man, *born <13>

Intendeth for to do thee villainy: dishonour, outrage God grante thee thine *homehy foe* t’ espy. enemy in the household

For in this world is no worse pestilence Than homely foe, all day in thy presence.

 

Performed hath the sun his arc diurn, daily No longer may the body of him sojourn

On the horizon, in that latitude:

Night with his mantle, that is dark and rude, Gan overspread the hemisphere about:

For which departed is this *lusty rout pleasant company*

From January, with thank on every side.

Home to their houses lustily they ride, Where as they do their thinges as them lest, And when they see their time they go to rest.

Soon after that this hasty* January *eager Will go to bed, he will no longer tarry.

He dranke hippocras, clarre, and vernage <14>

Of spices hot, to increase his courage; And many a lectuary* had he full fine, *potion Such as the cursed monk Dan Constantine<15>

Hath written in his book *de Coitu; of sexual intercourse*

To eat them all he would nothing eschew: And to his privy friendes thus said he: “For Godde’s love, as soon as it may be, Let voiden all this house in courteous wise.” everyone leave

And they have done right as he will devise.

Men drinken, and the travers* draw anon; *curtains The bride is brought to bed as still as stone; And when the bed was with the priest y-bless’d, Out of the chamber every wight him dress’d, And January hath fast in arms y-take

His freshe May, his paradise, his make. mate He lulled her, he kissed her full oft; With thicke bristles of his beard unsoft, Like to the skin of houndfish,* sharp as brere* dogfish **briar (For he was shav’n all new in his mannere), He rubbed her upon her tender face,

And saide thus; “Alas! I must trespace To you, my spouse, and you greatly offend, Ere time come that I will down descend.

But natheless consider this,” quoth he, “There is no workman, whatsoe’er he be, That may both worke well and hastily:

This will be done at leisure perfectly.

It is no force how longe that we play; no matter

In true wedlock coupled be we tway;

And blessed be the yoke that we be in, For in our actes may there be no sin.

A man may do no sinne with his wife,

Nor hurt himselfe with his owen knife; For we have leave to play us by the law.”

 

Thus labour’d he, till that the day gan daw, And then he took a sop in fine clarre, And upright in his bedde then sat he.

And after that he sang full loud and clear, And kiss’d his wife, and made wanton cheer.

He was all coltish, full of ragerie wantonness And full of jargon as a flecked pie.<16>

The slacke skin about his necke shaked, While that he sang, so chanted he and craked. quavered But God wot what that May thought in her heart, When she him saw up sitting in his shirt In his night-cap, and with his necke lean: She praised not his playing worth a bean.

Then said he thus; “My reste will I take Now day is come, I may no longer wake; And down he laid his head and slept till prime.

And afterward, when that he saw his time, Up rose January, but freshe May

Helde her chamber till the fourthe day, As usage is of wives for the best.

For every labour some time must have rest, Or elles longe may he not endure;

This is to say, no life of creature,

Be it of fish, or bird, or beast, or man.

 

Now will I speak of woeful Damian,

That languisheth for love, as ye shall hear; Therefore I speak to him in this manneare.

I say. “O silly Damian, alas!

Answer to this demand, as in this case, How shalt thou to thy lady, freshe May, Telle thy woe? She will alway say nay; Eke if thou speak, she will thy woe bewray; betray God be thine help, I can no better say.

This sicke Damian in Venus’ fire

So burned that he died for desire;

For which he put his life *in aventure, at risk*

No longer might he in this wise endure; But privily a penner* gan he borrow, *writing-case And in a letter wrote he all his sorrow, In manner of a complaint or a lay,

Unto his faire freshe lady May.

And in a purse of silk, hung on his shirt, He hath it put, and laid it at his heart.

 

The moone, that at noon was thilke* day *that That January had wedded freshe May,

In ten of Taure, was into Cancer glided;<17>

So long had Maius in her chamber abided, As custom is unto these nobles all.

A bride shall not eaten in the ball

Till dayes four, or three days at the least, Y-passed be; then let her go to feast.

The fourthe day complete from noon to noon, When that the highe masse was y-done,

In halle sat this January, and May,

As fresh as is the brighte summer’s day.

And so befell, how that this goode man Remember’d him upon this Damian.

And saide; “Saint Mary, how may this be, That Damian attendeth not to me?

Is he aye sick? or how may this betide?”

His squiers, which that stoode there beside, Excused him, because of his sickness,

Which letted* him to do his business: *hindered None other cause mighte make him tarry.

“That me forthinketh,”* quoth this January *grieves, causes “He is a gentle squier, by my truth; uneasiness If that he died, it were great harm and ruth.

He is as wise, as discreet, and secre’, secret, trusty As any man I know of his degree,

And thereto manly and eke serviceble,

And for to be a thrifty man right able.

But after meat, as soon as ever I may

I will myself visit him, and eke May,

To do him all the comfort that I can.”

And for that word him blessed every man, That of his bounty and his gentleness

He woulde so comforten in sickness

His squier, for it was a gentle deed.

 

“Dame,” quoth this January, “take good heed, At after meat, ye with your women all

(When that ye be in chamb’r out of this hall), That all ye go to see this Damian:

Do him disport, he is a gentle man;

And telle him that I will him visite,

*Have I nothing but rested me a lite: when only I have rested And speed you faste, for I will abide me a little*

Till that ye sleepe faste by my side.”

And with that word he gan unto him call A squier, that was marshal of his hall, And told him certain thinges that he wo’ld.

This freshe May hath straight her way y-hold, With all her women, unto Damian.

Down by his beddes side sat she than, then Comforting him as goodly as she may.

This Damian, when that his time he say, saw In secret wise his purse, and eke his bill, In which that he y-written had his will, Hath put into her hand withoute more,

Save that he sighed wondrous deep and sore, And softely to her right thus said he: “Mercy, and that ye not discover me:

For I am dead if that this thing be kid.” discovered <18>

The purse hath she in her bosom hid,

And went her way; ye get no more of me; But unto January come is she,

That on his bedde’s side sat full soft.

He took her, and he kissed her full