The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 93

"Fy on you," quoth she, "ev'ry one!

Ye nasty swine, ye idle wretches, Full fill'd of rotten slowe tetches!* *blemishes <75> What? false thieves! ere ye would *Be famous good,* and nothing n'ould *have good fame*

Deserve why, nor never raught,* *recked, cared (to do so) Men rather you to hangen ought.

For ye be like the sleepy cat, That would have fish; but, know'st thou what?

He woulde no thing wet his claws.

Evil thrift come to your jaws, And eke to mine, if I it grant, Or do favour you to avaunt.* *boast your deeds Thou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace, Go, blow this folk a *sorry grace,"* *disgrace Quoth she, "anon; and know'st thou how?

As I shall telle thee right now, Say, these be they that would honour Have, and do no kind of labour, Nor do no good, and yet have laud, And that men ween'd that Belle Isaude <76> *Could them not of love wern;* *could not refuse them her love*

And yet she that grinds at the quern* *mill <77> Is all too good to ease their heart."

This Aeolus anon upstart, And with his blacke clarioun He gan to blazen out a soun'

As loud as bellows wind in h.e.l.l; And eke therewith, the sooth to tell, This sounde was so full of j.a.pes,* *jests As ever were mows* in apes; *grimaces And that went all the world about, That ev'ry wight gan on them shout, And for to laugh as they were wood;* *mad *Such game found they in their hood.* <78> *so were they ridiculed*

Then came another company, That hadde done the treachery, The harm, and the great wickedness, That any hearte coulde guess; And prayed her to have good fame, And that she would do them no shame, But give them los and good renown, And *do it blow* in clarioun. *cause it to be blown*

"Nay, wis!" quoth she, "it were a vice; All be there in me no justice, Me liste not to do it now, Nor this will I grant to you."

Then came there leaping in a rout,* *crowd And gan to clappen* all about *strike, knock Every man upon the crown, That all the hall began to soun'; And saide; "Lady lefe* and dear, *loved We be such folk as ye may hear.

To tellen all the tale aright, We be shrewes* every wight, *wicked, impious people And have delight in wickedness, As goode folk have in goodness, And joy to be y-knowen shrews, And full of vice and *wicked thews;* *evil qualities*

Wherefore we pray you *on a row,* *all together*

That our fame be such y-know In all things right as it is."

"I grant it you," quoth she, "y-wis.

But what art thou that say'st this tale, That wearest on thy hose a pale,* *vertical stripe And on thy tippet such a bell?"

"Madame," quoth he, "sooth to tell, I am *that ilke shrew,* y-wis, *the same wretch*

That burnt the temple of Isidis, In Athenes, lo! that city." <79> "And wherefore didst thou so?" quoth she.

"By my thrift!" quoth he, "Madame, I woulde fain have had a name As other folk had in the town; Although they were of great renown For their virtue and their thews,* *good qualities Thought I, as great fame have shrews (Though it be naught) for shrewdeness, As good folk have for goodeness; And since I may not have the one, The other will I not forgo'n.

So for to gette *fame's hire,* *the reward of fame*

The temple set I all afire.

*Now do our los be blowen swithe, As wisly be thou ever blithe."* *see note <80> "Gladly," quoth she; "thou Aeolus, Hear'st thou what these folk prayen us?"

"Madame, I hear full well," quoth he, "And I will trumpen it, pardie!"

And took his blacke trumpet fast, And gan to puffen and to blast, Till it was at the worlde's end.

With that I gan *aboute wend,* *turn*

For one that stood right at my back Me thought full goodly* to me spake, *courteously, fairly And saide, "Friend, what is thy name?

Art thou come hither to have fame?"

"Nay, *for soothe,* friend!" quoth I; *surely*

"I came not hither, *grand mercy,* *great thanks*

For no such cause, by my head!

Sufficeth me, as I were dead, That no wight have my name in hand.

I wot myself best how I stand, For what I dree,* or what I think, *suffer I will myself it alle drink, Certain, for the more part, As far forth as I know mine art."

"What doest thou here, then," quoth he.

Quoth I, "That will I telle thee; The cause why I stande here, Is some new tidings for to lear,* *learn Some newe thing, I know not what, Tidings either this or that, Of love, or suche thinges glad.

For, certainly, he that me made To come hither, said to me I shoulde bothe hear and see In this place wondrous things; But these be not such tidings As I meant of." "No?" quoth he.

And I answered, "No, pardie!

For well I wot ever yet, Since that first I hadde wit, That some folk have desired fame Diversely, and los, and name; But certainly I knew not how Nor where that Fame dwelled, ere now Nor eke of her description, Nor also her condition, Nor *the order of her doom,* *the principle of her judgments*

Knew I not till I hither come."

"Why, then, lo! be these tidings, That thou nowe hither brings, That thou hast heard?" quoth he to me.

"But now *no force,* for well I see *no matter*

What thou desirest for to lear."

Come forth, and stand no longer here.

And I will thee, withoute dread,* *doubt Into another place lead, Where thou shalt hear many a one."

Then gan I forth with him to go'n Out of the castle, sooth to say.

Then saw I stand in a vally, Under the castle faste by, A house, that domus Daedali, That Labyrinthus <81> called is, N'as* made so wondrously, y-wis, *was not Nor half so quaintly* was y-wrought. *strangely And evermore, as swift as thought, This quainte* house aboute went, *strange That nevermore it *stille stent;* *ceased to move*

And thereout came so great a noise, That had it stooden upon Oise, <82> Men might have heard it easily To Rome, I *trowe sickerly.* *confidently believe*

And the noise which I heard, For all the world right so it far'd As doth the routing* of the stone *rus.h.i.+ng noise*

That from the engine<83> is let go'n.

And all this house of which I read* *tell you Was made of twigges sallow,* red, *willow And green eke, and some were white, Such as men *to the cages twight,* *pull to make cages*

Or maken of these panniers, Or elles hutches or dossers;* *back-baskets That, for the swough* and for the twigs, *rus.h.i.+ng noise This house was all so full of gigs,* *sounds of wind And all so full eke of chirkings,* *creakings And of many other workings; And eke this house had of entries As many as leaves be on trees, In summer when that they be green, And on the roof men may yet see'n A thousand holes, and well mo', To let the soundes oute go.

And by day *in ev'ry tide* *continually*

Be all the doores open wide, And by night each one unshet;* *unshut, open Nor porter there is none to let* *hinder No manner tidings in to pace; Nor ever rest is in that place, That it n'is* fill'd full of tidings, *is not Either loud, or of whisperings; And ever all the house's angles Are full of *rownings and of jangles,* *whisperings and chatterings*

Of wars, of peace, of marriages, Of rests, of labour, of voyages, Of abode, of death, of life, Of love, of hate, accord, of strife, Of loss, of lore, and of winnings, Of health, of sickness, of buildings, Of faire weather and tempests, Of qualm* of folkes and of beasts; *sickness Of divers trans.m.u.tations Of estates and of regions; Of trust, of dread,* of jealousy, *doubt Of wit, of cunning, of folly, Of plenty, and of great famine, Of *cheap, of dearth,* and of ruin; *cheapness & dearness (of food)*

Of good or of mis-government, Of fire, and diverse accident.

And lo! this house of which I write, *Sicker be ye,* it was not lite;* *be a.s.sured* *small For it was sixty mile of length, All* was the timber of no strength; *although Yet it is founded to endure, *While that it list to Adventure,* *while fortune pleases*

That is the mother of tidings, As is the sea of wells and springs; And it was shapen like a cage.

"Certes," quoth I, "in all mine age,* *life Ne'er saw I such a house as this."

And as I wonder'd me, y-wis, Upon this house, then ware was I How that mine eagle, faste by, Was perched high upon a stone; And I gan straighte to him go'n, And saide thus; "I praye thee That thou a while abide* me, *wait for For G.o.dde's love, and let me see What wonders in this place be; For yet parauntre* I may lear** *peradventure **learn Some good thereon, or somewhat hear, That *lefe me were,* ere that I went." *were pleasing to me*

"Peter! that is mine intent,"

Quoth he to me; "therefore I dwell;* *tarry But, certain, one thing I thee tell, That, but* I bringe thee therein, *unless Thou shalt never *can begin* *be able*

To come into it, out of doubt, So fast it whirleth, lo! about.

But since that Jovis, of his grace, As I have said, will thee solace Finally with these ilke* things, *same These uncouth sightes and tidings, To pa.s.s away thy heaviness, Such ruth* hath he of thy distress *compa.s.sion That thou suff'rest debonairly,* *gently And know'st thyselven utterly Desperate of alle bliss, Since that Fortune hath made amiss The fruit of all thy hearte's rest Languish, and eke *in point to brest;* *on the point of breaking*

But he, through his mighty merite, Will do thee ease, all be it lite,* *little And gave express commandement, To which I am obedient, To further thee with all my might, And wiss* and teache thee aright, *direct Where thou may'st moste tidings hear, Shalt thou anon many one lear."

And with this word he right anon Hent* me up betwixt his tone,** *caught **toes And at a window in me brought, That in this house was, as me thought; And therewithal me thought it stent,* *stopped And nothing it aboute went; And set me in the floore down.

But such a congregatioun Of folk, as I saw roam about, Some within and some without, Was never seen, nor shall be eft,* *again, hereafter That, certes, in the world n' is* left *is not So many formed by Nature, Nor dead so many a creature, That well unnethes* in that place *scarcely Had I a foote breadth of s.p.a.ce; And ev'ry wight that I saw there Rown'd* evereach in other's ear *whispered A newe tiding privily, Or elles told all openly Right thus, and saide, "Know'st not thou What is betid,* lo! righte now?" *happened "No," quoth he; "telle me what."

And then he told him this and that, And swore thereto, that it was sooth; "Thus hath he said," and "Thus he do'th,"

And "Thus shall 't be," and "Thus heard I say "That shall be found, that dare I lay;"* *wager That all the folk that is alive Have not the cunning to descrive* *describe The thinges that I hearde there, What aloud, and what in th'ear.

But all the wonder most was this; When one had heard a thing, y-wis, He came straight to another wight, And gan him tellen anon right The same tale that to him was told, Or it a furlong way was old, <84> And gan somewhat for to eche* *eke, add To this tiding in his speech, More than it ever spoken was.

And not so soon departed n'as* *was He from him, than that he met With the third; and *ere he let Any stound,* he told him als'; *without delaying a momen*

Were the tidings true or false, Yet would he tell it natheless, And evermore with more increase Than it was erst.* Thus north and south *at first Went ev'ry tiding from mouth to mouth, And that increasing evermo', As fire is wont to *quick and go* *become alive, and spread*

From a spark y-sprung amiss, Till all a city burnt up is.

And when that it was full up-sprung, And waxen* more on ev'ry tongue *increased Than e'er it was, it went anon Up to a window out to go'n; Or, but it mighte thereout pa.s.s, It gan creep out at some creva.s.s,* *crevice, c.h.i.n.k And fly forth faste for the nonce.

And sometimes saw I there at once *A leasing, and a sad sooth saw,* *a falsehood and an earnest That gan *of adventure* draw true saying* *by chance Out at a window for to pace; And when they metten in that place, They were checked both the two, And neither of them might out go; For other so they gan *to crowd,* *push, squeeze, each other*

Till each of them gan cryen loud, "Let me go first!" -- "Nay, but let me!

And here I will ensure thee, With vowes, if thou wilt do so, That I shall never from thee go, But be thine owen sworen brother!

We will us medle* each with other, *mingle That no man, be he ne'er so wroth, Shall have one of us two, but both At ones, as *beside his leave,* *despite his desire*

Come we at morning or at eve, Be we cried or *still y-rowned."* *quietly whispered*

Thus saw I false and sooth, compouned,* *compounded Together fly for one tiding.

Then out at holes gan to wring* *squeeze, struggle Every tiding straight to Fame; And she gan give to each his name After her disposition, And gave them eke duration, Some to wax and wane soon, As doth the faire white moon; And let them go. There might I see Winged wonders full fast flee, Twenty thousand in a rout,* *company As Aeolus them blew about.

And, Lord! this House in alle times Was full of s.h.i.+pmen and pilgrimes, <85> With *scrippes bretfull of leasings,* *wallets brimful of falsehoods*

Entremedled with tidings* *true stories And eke alone by themselve.

And many thousand times twelve Saw I eke of these pardoners,<86> Couriers, and eke messengers, With boistes* crammed full of lies *boxes As ever vessel was with lyes.* *lees of wine And as I altherfaste* went *with all speed About, and did all mine intent Me *for to play and for to lear,* *to amuse and instruct myself*

And eke a tiding for to hear That I had heard of some country, That shall not now be told for me; -- For it no need is, readily; Folk can sing it better than I.

For all must out, or late or rath,* *soon All the sheaves in the lath;* *barn <87> I heard a greate noise withal In a corner of the hall, Where men of love tidings told; And I gan thitherward behold, For I saw running ev'ry wight As fast as that they hadde might, And ev'reach cried, "What thing is that?"

And some said, "I know never what."

And when they were all on a heap, Those behinde gan up leap, And clomb* upon each other fast, <88> *climbed And up the noise on high they cast, And trodden fast on others' heels, And stamp'd, as men do after eels.

But at the last I saw a man, Which that I not describe can; But that he seemed for to be A man of great authority.

And therewith I anon abraid* *awoke Out of my sleepe, half afraid; Rememb'ring well what I had seen, And how high and far I had been In my ghost; and had great wonder Of what the mighty G.o.d of thunder Had let me know; and gan to write Like as ye have me heard endite.

Wherefore to study and read alway I purpose to do day by day.

And thus, in dreaming and in game, Endeth this little book of Fame.