The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 47

35. Men love of proper kind newfangleness: Men, by their own -- their very -- nature, are fond of novelty, and p.r.o.ne to inconstancy.

36. Blue was the colour of truth, as green was that of inconstancy. In John Stowe's additions to Chaucer's works, printed in 1561, there is "A balade whiche Chaucer made against women inconstaunt," of which the refrain is, "In stead of blue, thus may ye wear all green."

37. Unless we suppose this to be a namesake of the Camballo who was Canace's brother -- which is not at all probable -- we must agree with Tyrwhitt that there is a mistake here; which no doubt Chaucer would have rectified, if the tale had not been "left half-told," One ma.n.u.script reads "Caballo;" and though not much authority need be given to a difference that may be due to mere omission of the mark of contraction over the "a," there is enough in the text to show that another person than the king's younger son is intended. The Squire promises to tell the adventures that befell each member of Cambuscan's family; and in thorough consistency with this plan, and with the canons of chivalric story, would be "the marriage of Canace to some knight who was first obliged to fight for her with her two brethren; a method of courts.h.i.+p," adds Tyrwhitt, "very consonant to the spirit of ancient chivalry."

38. (Trancriber's note) In some ma.n.u.scripts the following two lines, being the beginning of the third part, are found: -

Apollo whirleth up his chair so high, Till that Mercurius' house, the sly...

THE FRANKLIN'S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE. <1>

"IN faith, Squier, thou hast thee well acquit, And gentilly; I praise well thy wit,"

Quoth the Franklin; "considering thy youthe So feelingly thou speak'st, Sir, I aloue* thee, *allow, approve *As to my doom,* there is none that is here *so far as my judgment Of eloquence that shall be thy peer, goes*

If that thou live; G.o.d give thee goode chance, And in virtue send thee continuance, For of thy speaking I have great dainty.* *value, esteem I 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 discretion As that ye be: fy on possession, *But if* a man be virtuous withal. *unless I have my sone snibbed* and yet shall, *rebuked; "snubbed."

For he to virtue *listeth not t'intend,* *does not wish to But 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* *knowest That each of you must tellen at the least A 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 obey Unto your will; now hearken what I say; I will you not contrary* in no wise, *disobey As far as that my wittes may suffice.

I pray to G.o.d 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, unlearned At my beginning first I you beseech Have 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 Parna.s.so, Nor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero.

Coloures know I none, withoute dread,* *doubt But such colours as growen in the mead, Or elles such as men dye with or paint; Colours of rhetoric be to me quaint;* *strange My 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 prologue were prefixed to the Merchant's Tale, and put into his mouth.

Tyrwhitt was abundantly justified, by the internal evidence afforded by the lines themselves, in transferring them to their present place.

2. The "Breton Lays" were an important and curious element in the literature of the Middle Ages; they were originally composed in the Armorican language, and the chief collection of them extant was translated into French verse by a poetess calling herself "Marie," about the middle of the thirteenth century. But though this collection was the most famous, and had doubtless been read by Chaucer, there were other British or Breton 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 circ.u.mstances to suit the removal 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,* *enterprise He 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 distress But, at the last, she for his worthiness, And namely* for his meek obeisance, *especially Hath such a pity caught of his penance,* *suffering, distress That privily she fell of his accord To take him for her husband and her lord (Of such lords.h.i.+p 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 night Should take upon himself no mastery Against her will, nor kithe* her jealousy, *show But her obey, and follow her will in all, As any lover to his lady shall; Save that the name of sovereignety That would he have, for shame of his degree.

She thanked him, and with full great humbless She saide; "Sir, since of your gentleness Ye proffer me to have so large a reign, *Ne woulde G.o.d 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."* *burst Thus 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 G.o.d of love anon Beateth <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,* *slave And 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 highest Patience 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,* *prosper Ye 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 of Wine, woe, or changing of complexion, the planets*

Causeth full oft to do amiss or speaken: On every wrong a man may not be wreaken.* *revenged After* the time must be temperance *according to To every wight that *can of* governance. *is capable of*

And therefore hath this worthy wise knight (To live in ease) sufferance her behight;* *promised And she to him full wisly* gan to swear *surely That 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 lords.h.i.+p and servage?

Servage? nay, but in lords.h.i.+p 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.* *delight Who coulde tell, but* he had wedded be, *unless The 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, arranged In Engleland, that call'd was eke Britain, To seek in armes wors.h.i.+p and honour (For all his l.u.s.t* he set in such labour); *pleasure And dwelled there two years; the book saith thus.

Now will I stint* of this Arviragus, *cease speaking And speak I will of Dorigen his wife, That lov'd her husband as her hearte's life.

For his absence weepeth she and siketh,* *sigheth As do these n.o.ble 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 case They do to her, with all their business,* *a.s.siduity And 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 she Received hath, by hope and by reason, Th' imprinting of their consolation, Through which her greate sorrow gan a.s.suage; 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, diminish And prayed her on knees for G.o.dde's sake To 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 s.h.i.+p and barge sigh,* *saw Sailing their courses, where them list to go.

But then was that a parcel* of her woe, *part For to herself full oft, "Alas!" said she, Is there no s.h.i.+p, of so many as I see, Will bringe home my lord? then were my heart All 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,* *black For very fear so would her hearte quake, That on her feet she might her not sustene* *sustain Then 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 G.o.d! that through thy purveyance Leadest 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 confusion Of work, than any fair creation Of such a perfect wise G.o.d 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 mankind Have rockes slain, *all be they not in mind;* *though they are Which mankind is so fair part of thy work, forgotten*

Thou madest it like to thine owen mark.* *image Then seemed it ye had a great cherte* *love, affection Toward mankind; but how then may it be That ye such meanes make it to destroy?

Which meanes do no good, but ever annoy.

I wot well, clerkes will say as them lest,* *please By arguments, that all is for the best, Although I can the causes not y-know; But thilke* G.o.d that made the wind to blow, *that As keep my lord, this is my conclusion: To clerks leave I all disputation: But would to G.o.d that all these rockes blake Were sunken into h.e.l.le for his sake These rockes slay mine hearte for the fear."

Thus would she say, with many a piteous tear.

Her friendes saw that it was no disport To roame by the sea, but discomfort, And shope* them for to playe somewhere else. *arranged They leade her by rivers and by wells, And eke in other places delectables; They dancen, and they play at chess and tables.* *backgammon So on a day, right in the morning-tide, Unto a garden that was there beside, In which that they had made their ordinance* *provision, arrangement Of 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 showers This garden full of leaves and of flowers: And craft of manne's hand so curiously Arrayed had this garden truely, That never was there garden of such price,* *value, praise *But if* it were the very Paradise. *unless*