But Crist, that of perfection is welle,
Ne bade not every wight he shulde go selle
All that he had, and yeve it to the
poure,
And in swiche wise folow him and his lore:
He spake to hem that wold live parfitly,
And, lordings, (by your leve) that am nat I;
I wol bestow the flour of all myn age
In th' actes and the fruit of mariage.
Tell me also, to what conclusion
Were membres made of generation,
And of so parfit wise a wight ywrought?
Trusteth me wel, they were nat made for nought.
Glose who so wol, and say bothe up
That they were made for purgatioun
Of urine, and of other thinges smale,
And eke to know a female from a male:
And for non other cause? say ye no?
The experience wot wel it is not so.
So that the clerkes be not with me wroth,
I say this, that they maked ben for both,
This is to sayn, for office, and for ese
Of engendrure, ther we not God displese.
Why shuld men elles in hir bookes sette,
That man shal yelden to his wif hire dette?
Now wherwith shuld he make his payement,
If he ne used his sely instrument?
Than were they made upon a creature
To purge urine, and eke for engendrure.
But I say not that every wight is hold,
That hath swiche harneis as I to you told,
To gon and usen hem in engendrure;
Than shuld men take of chastitee no cure.
Crist was a maide, and shapen as a man,
And many a seint, sith that this world began,
Yet lived they ever in parfit chastitee.
I n'ill envie with no virginitee.
Let hem with bred of pured whete be fed,
And let us wives eten barly bred.
And yet with barly bred, Mark tellen can,
Our Lord Jesu refreshed many a man.
In swiche estat as God hath cleped us,
I wol persever, I n'am not precious,
In wifhode wol I use min instrument
As frely as my maker hath it sent.
If I be dangerous God yeve me sorwe,
Min husbond shal it have both even and morwe,
Whan that him list come forth and pay his dette.
An husbond wol I have, I wol not lette,
Which shal be both my dettour and my thrall,
And have his tribulation withall
Upon his flesh, while that I am his wif.
I have the power during all my lif
Upon his propre body, and nat he;
Right thus the apostle told it unto me,
And bad our husbonds for to love us wel;
All this sentence me liketh every del.
Up stert the pardoner, and that anon;
Now, dame, quod he, by God and by Seint John,
Ye ben a noble prechour in this cas.
I was about to wed a wif, alas!
What? shuld I bie it on my flesh so dere?
Yet had I lever wed no wif to-yere.
Abide, quod she, my tale is not begonne.
Nay, thou shalt drinken of another tonne
Er that I go, shal savour worse than ale.
And whan that I have told thee forth
my tale
Of tribulation in mariage,
Of which I am expert in all min age,
(This is to sayn, myself hath ben the whippe)
Than maiest thou chesen wheder thou wolt sippe
Of thilke tonne, that I shal abroche.
Beware of it, er thou to neigh approche.
For I shal tell ensamples mo than ten:
Who so that n'ill beware by other men
By him shal other men corrected be:
Thise same wordes writeth Ptholomee,
Rede in his Almageste, and take it there.
Dame, I wold pray you, if your will it were,
Sayde this pardoner, as ye began,
Tell forth your tale, and spareth for no man,
And techeth us yonge men of your practike.
Gladly, quod she, sin that it may you like.
But that I pray to all this compagnie,
If that I speke after my fantasie,
As taketh not a greefe of that I
For min entente is not but for to play.
Now, sires, than wol I tell you forth my tale. As ever mote I drinken win or ale
I shal say soth, the husbondes that I had
As three of hem were good, and two were bad.
The three were goode men and riche and olde.
Unethes mighten they the statute holde,
In which that they were bounden unto me.
Ye wot wel what I mene of this parde.
As God me helpe, I laugh whan that I thinke,
How pitously a-night I made hem swinke,
But by my fay, I tolde of it no store:
They had me yeven hir lond and hir tresore,
Me neded not do lenger diligence
To win hir love, or don hem reverence.
They loved me so wel by God above,
That I ne tolde no deintee of hir love.
A wise woman wol besie hire ever in on
To geten hir love, ther as she hath non.
But sith I had hem holly in min hond,
And that they hadde yeven me all hir lond,
What shuld I taken kepe hem for to plese,
But it were for my profit, or min ese?
I set hem so a-werke by my fay,
That many a night they songen wala wa.
The bacon was not fet for hem, I trow,
That som men have in Essex at Donmow.
I governed hem so wel after my lawe,
That eche of hem ful blisful was and fawe
To bringen me gay thinges fro the feyre.
They were ful glade whan I spake hem fayre,
For God it wot, I chidde hem spitously.
Now herkeneth how I bare me proprely.
Ye wise wives, that can understond,
Thus shul ye speke, and bere hem wrong on hond,
For half so boldely can ther no man
Sweren and lien as a woman can.
(I say not this by wives that ben wise,
But if it be whan they hem misavise.)
A wise wif if that she can hire good,
Shal beren hem on hond the cow is wood,
And taken witnesse of hire owen mayd
Of hir assent: but herkeneth how I sayd.
Sire olde kaynard, is this thin aray?
Why is my neigheboures wif so gay?
She is honoured over al wher she goth,
I sit at home, I have no thrifty cloth.
What dost thou at my neigheboures hous?
Is she so faire? art thou so amorous?
What rownest thou with our maide? benedicite,
Sire olde lechour, let thy japes be.
And if I have a gossib, or a frend, (Withouten gilt) thou chidest as a fend, If that I walke or play unto his hous.
Thou comest home as dronken as a mous,
And prechest on thy benche, with evil prefe:
Thou sayst to me, it is a gret meschiefe
To wed a poure woman, for costage:
And if that she be riche of high parage,
Than sayst thou, that it is a tourmentrie
To soffre hire pride and hire melancolie.
And if that she be faire, thou veray knave,
Thou sayst that every holour wol hire have.
She may no while in chastitee abide,
That is assailled upon every side.
Thou sayst som folk desire us for richesse,
Som for our shape, and som for our fairnesse,
And som, for she can other sing or dance,
And som for gentillesse and daliance,
Som for hire hondes and hire armes smale:
Thus goth all to the devil by thy tale.
Thou sayst, men may not kepe a castel wal,
It may so long assailled be over al.
And if that she be foul, thou sayst, that she
Coveteth every man that she may see;
For as a spaniel, she wol on him lepe,
Til she may finden som man hire to chepe.
Ne non so grey goos goth ther in the lake,
(As sayst thou) that wol ben withoute a make.
And sayst, it is an hard thing for to welde
A thing, that no man wol, his thankes, helde.
Thus sayst thou, lorel, whan thou gost to bed,
And that no wise man nedeth for to wed,
Ne no man that entendeth unto heven.
With wilde thonder dint and firy leven
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