Part 10

Thus while she spoke a sidelong glance she cast, Where Damian, kneeling, worshipp'd as she pass'd. 600 She saw him watch the motions of her eye, And singled out a pear-tree planted nigh: 'Twas charged with fruit that made a goodly show, And hung with dangling pears was every bough. Thither th' obsequious squire address'd his pace, And, climbing, in the summit took his place; The knight and lady walk'd beneath in view, Where let us leave them and our tale pursue.

'Twas now the season when the glorious sun His heavenly progress through the Twins had run; 610 And Jove, exalted, his mild influence yields, To glad the glebe, and paint the flowery fields: Clear was the day, and Phoebus, rising bright, Had streak'd the azure firmament with light; He pierced the glittering clouds with golden streams, And warm'd the womb of earth with genial beams.

It so befell, in that fair morning tide, The fairies sported on the garden side, And in the midst their monarch and his bride. So featly tripp'd the light-foot ladies round, 620 The knights so nimbly o'er the greensward bound, That scarce they bent the flowers or touch'd the ground. The dances ended, all the fairy train For pinks and daisies search'd the flowery plain; While on a bank reclined of rising green, Thus, with a frown, the king bespoke his queen:

''Tis too apparent, argue what you can, The treachery you women use to man: A thousand authors have this truth made out, And sad experience leaves no room for doubt. 630

'Heaven rest thy spirit, noble Solomon! A wiser monarch never saw the sun: All wealth, all honours, the supreme degree Of earthly bliss, was well bestow'd on thee! For sagely hast thou said, Of all mankind, One only just, and righteous, hope to find: But shouldst thou search the spacious world around, Yet one good woman is not to be found.

'Thus says the king, who knew your wickedness; The son of Sirach testifies no less. 640 So may some wild-fire on your bodies fall, Or some devouring plague consume you all; As well you view the lecher in the tree, And well this honourable knight you see: But, since he's blind and old (a helpless case), His squire shall cuckold him before your face.

'Now by my own dread majesty I swear, And by this awful sceptre which I bear, No impious wretch shall 'scape unpunish'd long, That in my presence offers such a wrong. 650 I will this instant undeceive the knight, And in the very act restore his sight: And set the strumpet here in open view, A warning to these ladies, and to you, And all the faithless sex, for ever to be true.'

'And will you so,' replied the queen, 'indeed? Now, by my mother's soul, it is decreed, She shall not want an answer at her need. For her, and for her daughters, I'll engage, And all the sex in each succeeding age; 660 Art shall be theirs to varnish an offence, And fortify their crimes with confidence. Nay, were they taken in a strict embrace, Seen with both eyes, and pinion'd on the place; All they shall need is to protest and swear, Breathe a soft sigh, and drop a tender tear; Till their wise husbands, gull'd by arts like these, Grow gentle, tractable, and tame as geese.

'What though this slanderous Jew, this Solomon, Call'd women fools, and knew full many a one; 670 The wiser wits of later times declare How constant, chaste, and virtuous women are: Witness the martyrs who resign'd their breath, Serene in torments, unconcern'd in death; And witness next what Roman authors tell, How Arria, Portia, and Lucretia fell.

'But since the sacred leaves to all are free, And men interpret texts, why should not we? By this no more was meant than to have shown That sovereign goodness dwells in Him alone, 680 Who only Is, and is but only One. But grant the worst; shall women then be weigh'd By every word that Solomon hath said What though this king (as ancient story boasts) Built a fair temple to the Lord of Hosts; He ceased at last his Maker to adore, And did as much for idol gods, or more. Beware what lavish praises you confer On a rank lecher and idolater; Whose reign indulgent God, says Holy Writ, 690 Did but for David's righteous sake permit; David the monarch after Heaven's own mind, Who loved our sex, and honour'd all our kind.

'Well, I'm a woman, and as such must speak; Silence would swell me, and my heart would break. Know, then, I scorn your dull authorities, Your idle wits, and all their learned lies: By heaven, those authors are our sex's foes, Whom, in our right, I must and will oppose!'

'Nay,' quoth the king, 'dear madam, be not wroth; 700 I yield it up; but since I gave my oath, That this much-injured knight again should see; It must be done--I am a king,' said he, 'And one whose faith has ever sacred been--'

'And so has mine' (she said)--'I am a queen: Her answer she shall have, I undertake; And thus an end of all dispute I make. Try when you list; and you shall find, my lord, It is not in our sex to break our word.'

We leave them here in this heroic strain, 710 And to the knight our story turns again; Who in the garden, with his lovely May, Sung merrier than the cuckoo or the jay: This was his song, 'Oh kind and constant be; Constant and kind I'll ever prove to thee.'

Thus singing as he went, at last he drew By easy steps to where the pear-tree grew: The longing dame look'd up, and spied her love Full fairly perch'd among the boughs above. She stopp'd, and sighing, 'O good gods!' she cried, 720 'What pangs, what sudden shoots distend my side Oh for that tempting fruit, so fresh, so green; Help, for the love of heaven's immortal queen! Help, dearest lord, and save at once the life Of thy poor infant, and thy longing wife!'

Sore sigh'd the knight to hear his lady's cry, But could not climb, and had no servant nigh: Old as he was, and void of eyesight too, What could, alas! a helpless husband do? 'And must I languish, then, (she said), and die, 730 Yet view the lovely fruit before my eye? At least, kind sir, for charity's sweet sake, Vouchsafe the trunk between your arms to take; Then from your back I might ascend the tree; Do you but stoop, and leave the rest to me.'

'With all my soul,' he thus replied again, 'I'd spend my dearest blood to ease thy pain.' With that his back against the trunk he bent; She seized a twig, and up the tree she went.

Now prove your patience, gentle ladies all! 740 Nor let on me your heavy anger fall: 'Tis truth I tell, though not in phrase refined; Though blunt my tale, yet honest is my mind. What feats the lady in the tree might do, I pass, as gambols never known to you; But sure it was a merrier fit, she swore, Than in her life she ever felt before.

In that nice moment, lo! the wondering knight Look'd out, and stood restored to sudden sight. Straight on the tree his eager eyes he bent, 750 As one whose thoughts were on his spouse intent; But when he saw his bosom-wife so dress'd, His rage was such as cannot be express'd: Not frantic mothers, when their infants die, With louder clamours rend the vaulted sky: He cried, he roar'd, he storm'd, he tore his hair: 'Death! hell! and furies! what dost thou do there?'

'What ails my lord?' the trembling dame replied, 'I thought your patience had been better tried: Is this your love, ungrateful and unkind, 760 This my reward for having cured the blind? Why was I taught to make my husband see, By struggling with a man upon a tree Did I for this the power of magic prove? Unhappy wife, whose crime was too much love!'

'If this be struggling, by this holy light, 'Tis struggling with a vengeance (quoth the knight): So Heaven preserve the sight it has restored, As with these eyes I plainly saw thee whored; Whored by my slave--perfidious wretch! may hell 770 As surely seize thee, as I saw too well.'

'Guard me, good angels!' cried the gentle May, 'Pray heaven this magic work the proper way! Alas, my love! 'tis certain, could you see, You ne'er had used these killing words to me: So help me, Fates! as 'tis no perfect sight, But some faint glimmering of a doubtful light.'

'What I have said (quoth he) I must maintain, For by th' immortal powers it seem'd too plain--'

'By all those powers, some frenzy seized your mind 780 (Replied the dame), are these the thanks I find? Wretch that I am, that e'er I was so kind!' She said; a rising sigh express'd her woe, The ready tears apace began to flow, And, as they fell, she wiped from either eye The drops (for women, when they list, can cry).

The knight was touch'd; and in his looks appear'd Signs of remorse, while thus his spouse he cheer'd: 'Madam, 'tis past, and my short anger o'er! Come down, and vex your tender heart no more: 790 Excuse me, dear, if aught amiss was said, For, on my soul, amends shall soon be made: Let my repentance your forgiveness draw; By heaven, I swore but what I _thought_ I saw.'

'Ah, my loved lord! 'twas much unkind (she cried) On bare suspicion thus to treat your bride. But, till your sight's establish'd, for a while, Imperfect objects may your sense beguile. Thus, when from sleep we first our eyes display, The balls are wounded with the piercing ray, 800 And dusky vapours rise and intercept the day; So, just recovering from the shades of night, Your swimming eyes are drunk with sudden light, Strange phantoms dance around, and skim before your sight. Then, sir, be cautious, nor too rashly deem; Heaven knows how seldom things are what they seem! Consult your reason, and you soon shall find 'Twas you were jealous, not your wife unkind: Jove ne'er spoke oracle more true than this, None judge so wrong as those who think amiss.' 810

With that she leap'd into her lord's embrace, With well-dissembled virtue in her face. He hugg'd her close, and kiss'd her o'er and o'er, Disturb'd with doubts and jealousies no more: Both, pleased and bless'd, renew'd their mutual vows: A fruitful wife, and a believing spouse.

Thus ends our tale, whose moral next to make, Let all wise husbands hence example take; And pray, to crown the pleasure of their lives, To be so well deluded by their wives. 820

THE WIFE OF BATH, HER PROLOGUE.

FROM CHAUCER.

Behold the woes of matrimonial life, And hear with reverence an experienced wife! To dear-bought wisdom give the credit due, And think, for once, a woman tells you true. In all these trials I have borne a part: I was myself the scourge that caused the smart; For, since fifteen, in triumph have I led Five captive husbands from the church to bed.

Christ saw a wedding once, the Scripture says, And saw but one, 'tis thought, in all his days; 10 Whence some infer, whose conscience is too nice, No pious Christian ought to marry twice.

But let them read, and solve me if they can, The words address'd to the Samaritan; Five times in lawful wedlock she was join'd, And sure the certain stint was ne'er defined.

'Increase and multiply' was Heaven's command, And that's a text I clearly understand: This, too, 'Let men their sires and mothers leave, And to their dearer wives for ever cleave.' 20 More wives than one by Solomon were tried, Or else the wisest of mankind's belied. I've had myself full many a merry fit, And trust in heaven I may have many yet; For when my transitory spouse, unkind, Shall die and leave his woful wife behind, I'll take the next good Christian I can find.

Paul, knowing one could never serve our turn, Declared 'twas better far to wed than burn. There's danger in assembling fire and tow; 30 I grant 'em that; and what it means you know. The same apostle, too, has elsewhere own'd No precept for virginity he found: 'Tis but a counsel--and we women still Take which we like, the counsel or our will.

I envy not their bliss, if he or she Think fit to live in perfect chastity: Pure let them be, and free from taint or vice; I for a few slight spots am not so nice. Heaven calls us different ways; on these bestows 40 One proper gift, another grants to those; Not every man's obliged to sell his store, And give up all his substance to the poor: Such as are perfect may, I can't deny; But, by your leaves, divines! so am not I.

Full many a saint, since first the world began, Lived an unspotted maid in spite of man: Let such (a God's name) with fine wheat be fed, And let us honest wives eat barley bread. For me, I'll keep the post assign'd by heaven, 50 And use the copious talent it has given: Let my good spouse pay tribute, do me right, And keep an equal reckoning every night; His proper body is not his, but mine; For so said Paul, and Paul's a sound divine.

Know then, of those five husbands I have had, Three were just tolerable, two were bad. The three were old, but rich and fond beside, And toil'd most piteously to please their bride; But since their wealth (the best they had) was mine, 60 The rest, without much loss, I could resign: Sure to be loved, I took no pains to please, Yet had more pleasure far than they had ease.

Presents flow'd in apace: with showers of gold They made their court, like Jupiter of old: If I but smiled, a sudden youth they found, And a new palsy seized them when I frown'd. Ye sovereign wives! give ear, and understand: Thus shall ye speak, and exercise command; For never was it given to mortal man 70 To lie so boldly as we women can: Forswear the fact, though seen with both his eyes, And call your maids to witness how he lies.

Hark, old Sir Paul! ('twas thus I used to say) Whence is our neighbour's wife so rich and gay Treated, caress'd, where'er she's pleased to roam-- I sit in tatters, and immured at home. Why to her house dost thou so oft repair? Art thou so amorous? and is she so fair? If I but see a cousin or a friend, 80 Lord! how you swell and rage, like any fiend! But you reel home, a drunken beastly bear, Then preach till midnight in your easy chair; Cry, Wives are false, and every woman evil, And give up all that's female to the devil. If poor (you say), she drains her husband's purse; If rich, she keeps her priest, or something worse; If highly born, intolerably vain, Vapours and pride by turns possess her brain; Now gaily mad, now sourly splenetic, 90 Freakish when well, and fretful when she's sick: If fair, then chaste she cannot long abide, By pressing youth attack'd on every side; If foul, her wealth the lusty lover lures, Or else her wit some fool-gallant procures, Or else she dances with becoming grace, Or shape excuses the defects of face. There swims no goose so gray, but soon or late She finds some honest gander for her mate.

Horses (thou say'st) and asses men may try, 100 And ring suspected vessels ere they buy; But wives, a random choice, untried they take, They dream in courtship, but in wedlock wake; Then, nor till then, the veil's removed away, And all the woman glares in open day.

You tell me, to preserve your wife's good grace, Your eyes must always languish on my face, Your tongue with constant flatteries feed my ear, And tag each sentence with 'My life! My dear!' If, by strange chance, a modest blush be raised, 110 Be sure my fine complexion must be praised. My garments always must be new and gay, And feasts still kept upon my wedding day. Then must my nurse be pleased, and favourite maid: And endless treats and endless visits paid To a long train of kindred, friends, allies: All this thou say'st, and all thou say'st are lies.

On Jenkin, too, you cast a squinting eye: What! can your 'prentice raise your jealousy? Fresh are his ruddy cheeks, his forehead fair, 120 And like the burnish'd gold his curling hair. But clear thy wrinkled brow, and quit thy sorrow, I'd scorn your 'prentice should you die to-morrow.

Why are thy chests all lock'd? on what design? Are not thy worldly goods and treasures mine? Sir, I'm no fool; nor shall you, by St John, Have goods and body to yourself alone. One you shall quit, in spite of both your eyes-- I heed not, I, the bolts, the locks, the spies. If you had wit, you'd say, 'Go where you will, 130 Dear spouse! I credit not the tales they tell: Take all the freedoms of a married life; I know thee for a virtuous, faithful wife.'

Lord! when you have enough, what need you care How merrily soever others fare? Though all the day I give and take delight, Doubt not, sufficient will be left at night. 'Tis but a just and rational desire To light a taper at a neighbour's fire. There's danger too, you think, in rich array, 140 And none can long be modest that are gay. The cat, if you but singe her tabby skin, The chimney keeps, and sits content within: But once grown sleek, will from her corner run, Sport with her tail, and wanton in the sun: She licks her fair round face, and frisks abroad To show her fur, and to be catterwaw'd.

Lo! thus, my friends, I wrought to my desires These three right ancient venerable sires. I told 'em, Thus you say, and thus you do; 150 And told 'em false, but Jenkin swore 'twas true. I, like a dog, could bite as well as whine, And first complain'd whene'er the guilt was mine. I tax'd them oft with wenching and amours, When their weak legs scarce dragg'd them out of doors And swore, the rambles that I took by night Were all to spy what damsels they bedight: That colour brought me many hours of mirth; For all this wit is given us from our birth. Heaven gave to woman the peculiar grace 160 To spin, to weep, and cully human race. By this nice conduct and this prudent course, By murmuring, wheedling, stratagem, and force, I still prevail'd, and would be in the right, Or curtain lectures made a restless night. If once my husband's arm was o'er my side, 'What! so familiar with your spouse?' I cried: I levied first a tax upon his need; Then let him--'twas a nicety indeed! Let all mankind this certain maxim hold; 170 Marry who will, our sex is to be sold. With empty hands no tassels you can lure, But fulsome love for gain we can endure; For gold we love the impotent and old, And heave, and pant, and kiss, and cling, for gold. Yet with embraces curses oft I mix'd, Then kiss'd again, and chid, and rail'd betwixt. Well, I may make my will in peace, and die, For not one word in man's arrears am I. To drop a dear dispute I was unable, 180 E'en though the Pope himself had sat at table: But when my point was gain'd, then thus I spoke: 'Billy, my dear, how sheepishly you look! Approach, my spouse, and let me kiss thy cheek; Thou shouldst be always thus, resign'd and meek! Of Job's great patience since so oft you preach, Well should you practise who so well can teach. 'Tis difficult to do, I must allow, But I, my dearest! will instruct you how. Great is the blessing of a prudent wife, 190 Who puts a period to domestic strife. One of us two must rule, and one obey; And since in man right reason bears the sway, Let that frail thing, weak woman, have her way. The wives of all my family have ruled Their tender husbands, and their passions cool'd. Fye! 'tis unmanly thus to sigh and groan: What! would you have me to yourself alone? Why, take me, love! take all and every part! Here's your revenge! you love it at your heart. 200 Would I vouchsafe to sell what nature gave, You little think what custom I could have. But see! I'm all your own--nay, hold--for shame! What means my dear?--indeed, you are to blame.'

Thus with my first three lords I pass'd my life, A very woman, and a very wife. What sums from these old spouses I could raise, Procured young husbands in my riper days. Though past my bloom, not yet decay'd was I, Wanton and wild, and chatter'd like a pie. 210 In country-dances still I bore the bell, And sung as sweet as evening Philomel. To clear my quail-pipe, and refresh my soul, Full oft I drain'd the spicy nut-brown bowl; Rich luscious wines, that youthful blood improve, And warm the swelling veins to feats of love: For 'tis as sure as cold engenders hail, A liquorish mouth must have a lecherous tail: Wine lets no lover unrewarded go, As all true gamesters by experience know. 220

But oh, good gods! whene'er a thought I cast On all the joys of youth and beauty past, To find in pleasures I have had my part, Still warms me to the bottom of my heart. This wicked world was once my dear delight; Now, all my conquests, all my charms, good night! The flour consumed, the best that now I can Is e'en to make my market of the bran.

My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true; He kept, 'twas thought, a private miss or two: 230 But all that score I paid--As how? you'll say, Not with my body, in a filthy way; But I so dress'd, and danced, and drank, and dined, And view'd a friend with eyes so very kind, As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry, With burning rage and frantic jealousy His soul, I hope, enjoys eternal glory, For here on earth I was his purgatory. Oft, when his shoe the most severely wrung, He put on careless airs, and sat and sung. 240 How sore I gall'd him only heaven could know, And he that felt, and I that caused the woe: He died, when last from pilgrimage I came, With other gossips from Jerusalem, And now lies buried underneath a rood, Fair to be seen, and rear'd of honest wood: A tomb, indeed, with fewer sculptures graced Than that Mausolus' pious widow placed, Or where enshrined the great Darius lay; But cost on graves is merely thrown away. 250 The pit fill'd up, with turf we cover'd o'er; So bless the good man's soul! I say no more.