The works of our ancient, learned, & excellent English poet, Jeffrey Chaucer as they have lately been compar'd with the best manuscripts, and several things added, never before in print : to which is adjoyn'd The story of the siege of Thebes, by John Lidgate ... : together with The life of Chaucer, shewing his countrey, parentage, education, marriage, children, revenues, service, reward, friends, books, death : also a table, wherein the old and obscure words in Chaucer are explained, and such words ... that either are, by nature or derivation, Arabick, Greek, Latine, Italian, French, Dutch, or Saxon, mark'd with particular notes for the better understanding of their original.

¶The Marchants Tale.

Old January marrieth young May, and for his unequal match receiveth a foul reward.

WHylome there was dwelling in Lumbardie A worthy knight, that born was at Pauie, In which he liued in great prosperite, And sixtie yere a wife lesse man was he: And followed aye his bodily delite On women, there as was his appetite, As done these fooles that ben seculeres. And when that he was past sixtie yeres, Were it for holinesse or dotage, I cannot saine, but such a great corage Had this knight to ben a wedded man, That day and night he doth all that he can To espie, where that he wedded might be: Praying our lord to graunten him that he Mighten once knowen of that blisfull life, That is betwixt an husbond and his wife: And for to liuen vnder that holy bond, With which God first man and woman bond. None other life (said he) is worth a beane: * For wedlocke is so easie and so cleane, That in this world it is a paradise: Thus saith this old knight that is so wise. * And certainely, as south as God is king, To take a wife, it is a glorious thing, And namely when a man is old and hore, Then is a wife the fruit of his tresore: Then should he take a yong wife & a faire, On which he might engendren him an heire, And lead his life in joy and in sollace: Whereas these batchelers singen alas, When that they finden any aduersite In loue, which nis but childs vanite. And truly it sit well to be so, That batchelers han oft paine and wo: On brotell ground they bilden brotelnesse, They find freelte, when they wenen secrenesse: They liue but as liuen birds or bestes, In liberty, and vnder nice arestes, There as a wedded man in his estate Liueth a life blisfully and ordinate, Vnder the yoke of mariage ybound: Well may his heart in joy and blisse abound. For who can be so buxome as a wife? Who is so true and eke so tentise To keep him sicke and hole, as is his make? For wele or wo she nill him not forsake: She nis not weary him to loue and serue, Though that hee lie bedred till he sterue. And yet some clerkes sain, that it is not so, Of which Theophrast is one of tho: What force though Theophrast list to lie. Ne take no wife (qd. he) for husbondrie, As for to spare in houshold thy dispence: * A true seruaunt doeth more diligence Thy good to keep, than doth thine own wife, For she woll claime halfe part all her life. * And if that thou be sick, so God me saue Thy very owne friends or a true knaue Woll keepe thee better, than she y^t waiteth aye After thy good, and hath done many a day. And if thou take to thee a wife vntrew, Full oftentime it shall thee sore rew. This sentence, and an hundred sithes worse Writeth this man there, God his bones curse. But take no keepe of such vanite, Defieth Theophrast, and hearkeneth me.

A wife is Gods yeft verely, All other manner yefts hardely, As londs, rents, pasture, or commune, Or mouables, all ben yefts of fortune, That passen as a shaddow on a wall: But dread not, if plainely speake I shall, * A wife woll last and in thine house endure, Well lenger than thee list peraduenture. * Mariage is a full great sacrament, He which hath no wife I hold him shent: He liueth helplesse, and all desolate, I speake of folke in seculer estate. And herkneth why, I say not this for nought: A woman is for mans helpe ywrought. The high God, when he had Adam maked, And saw him alone all belly naked, God of his great goodnesse said than, Let vs maken an helpe to this man Like to himselfe, and then he made Eue. Here may ye see, and hereby may ye preue, * That a wife is mans helpe and comfort, His paradice terrestre and his disport: So buxome and so vertuous is she, They must needs liuen in vnite: One flesh they ben, and two soules as I gesse, Nat but one heart in wele and in distresse. A wife, ah saint Mary, benedicite, How might a man haue any aduersite That hath a wife? certes I cannot say, The blisse that is betwixt hem twey There may no tongue tellen or heart thinke. If he be poore, she helpeth him to swinke, She keepeth his good, & wasteth neuer a dell, All that her husbond lust, her liketh well. She saith not once nay, when he saith ye, Do this (saith he) a ready sir (saith she.) O blisfull order of wedloke precious, Thou art so merry, and eke so vertuous, And so commended, and approued eke, That euery man that halt him worth a leke, Vpon his bare knees ought all his life Thanken God, that him hath sent a wife. Or pray to God dayly him for to send A wife, to last vnto his liues end. For then his life is set in sikernesse, He may not be deceiued, as I gesse, So that he werch after his wiues rede: Then may he boldly bearen vp his hede, They beene euer so true and also wise. For which, if thou wilt werchen as the wise, Do alway so, as women woll thee rede. Lo how that Iacob, as these clerkes rede, By good counsaile of his mother Rebecke Bounden the kids skin about his necke: For which his fathers beneson he wan. Lo Iudith, as the storie tell can, By her wise counsaile Gods people kept, And slue him Holofernes while he slept. And Abigail by counsaile, how she Saved her husbond Naball, when that he Should haue be slain. And looke Hester also By good counsaile deliuered out of wo The people of God, & made him Mardochee Of Assure enhaunsed for to be. * There nis nothing in gree superlatife (As saith Seneck) aboue an humble wife. Suffer thy wives tongue, as Caton bit, She shall command, and thou shalt suffer it, And yet she woll obey of courtesie. A wife is keeper of thine husbondrie: * Well may the sicke man still waile & weep, There as there nis no wife the house to keep, I warne thee, if wisely thou wilt werch, Loue thy wife, as Christ loueth his cherch: If thou loue thy selfe, thou louest thy wife. No man hateth his flesh, but in his life He fostreth it, and therefore bid I thee Cherish thy wife, or thou shalt neuer ythee. Husbond and wife, what so men yape or play Of wordly folke hold the seker way: They be so knit, there may none harm betide, And namely vpon the wiues side. For which Ianuary, of which I told Considred hath in his dayes old The lusty life, the vertuous quiete, That is in mariage hony swete. And for his friends on a day he sent To tellen hem theffect of his intent. With face sad, his tale hath he hem told: He saied good friends, I am hore and old, And almost (God wot) on the pits brinke, Vpon my soule somewhat must I thinke. I haue my body folily dispended, Blessed be God, it shall ben amended: For I woll ben certain a wedded man And that anon in all the hast I can, Vnto some maid, faire and tender of age. I pray you shapeth for my mariage All suddainly, for I woll not abide: And I woll fonden to espie on my side, To whom I may be wedded hastily. But for as much as ye ben more than I, Ye shullen rather such a thing espien Than I, and there me lust best to alien. But one thing warn I you my friends dere, I woll none old wife haue in no mannere: She shall not passe fifteen yere certaine. * Old fish and young flesh woll I haue faine: Better is (qd. he) a Pike than a Pikereell, And bet than old Beefe is the tender Veell. I woll no woman of thirtie Winter age, * It nis but Beanstraw and great forage, And eke these old widdows (God it wote) * They connen so much craft in Wades bote, So much broken harm can they when hem lest, That with hem should I neuer liue in rest. * For sundry schooles maketh subtill clerkes, A woman of many schooles halfe a clerke is. But certainely, a young thing may men gie, Right as men may warm wax with hands plie. Wherefore I say you plainly in a clause, I nill none old wife haue for this cause. For if so were I had such mischaunce, That I in her couth haue no pleasaunce, Then should I lead my life in aduoutrie, And so streight to the devill when I die. Ne children should I none on her geten: Yet had I leuer hounds had me eaten, Than that mine heritage should fall In straunge honds: and thus I tell you all I dote not, I wot the cause why Men should wedden: & furthermore wot I,

There speaketh many a man of mariage, That wot no more of this that doth my page: For which causes man should take a wife, If he may not liue chast in his life, Take him a wife with great deuotion, Because of lefull procreation Of children, to the honour of God aboue, And not only for paramour or for loue: And for they shoulden Letcherie eschue, And yeeld his debts when that it is due: Or for that each man should helpen other In mischeefe, as a suster should the brother, And liuen in chastity full heauenly. But sirs (by your leaue) that am not I, For God be thanked, I dare make auaunt, I feele my lims hole and sufficiaunt To doen all that a man belongeth to: I wot my selue best what I may do. Though I be hore, I fare as doth a tree, That blossometh ere that fruit ywox bee, The blossomd tree is neither drie ne dead: I feele no where hore but on my head. Mine heart and my lims been as greene, As Laurell is through the yeare to seene. And sithen ye han heard all mine intent, I pray you to my will ye woll assent. Diuers men diuersly hem told Of mariage many examples old. Some blameth it, some praiseth it certaine, But at the last, shortly for to saine, (As all day falleth alteration, Betwixt friends and disputation) There fell a strife betwixt his brethren two, Of which that one was cleaped Placebo, Iustinus soothly called was that other. Placebo saied: O Ianuarie brother, Full little need han ye my Lord so dere, Counsaile to aske of any that is here: But that ye been so full of sapience, That you ne liketh for your high prudence, To waiue fro the word of Salomon: This word saieth he vnto euerichone, * Worke all thing by counsaile, thus saied hee, And then shalt thou not repent thee. But tho that Salomon speake such a word, Mine owne deare brother and my Lord, So wisely God my soul bring to ease and rest, I hold your owne counsaile for the best. For brother mine, take of me this motife, I haue been now a court man all my life, And God wot, though I now vnworthy bee, I haue stonden in full great degree Abouten Lords in full great estate: Yet had I neuer with none of hem debate, I neuer hem contraried truly. I wot well that my lord can more than I, That he saith, I hold it firme and stable, I say the same, or els thing semblable. * A full great foole is any counsailour, That serueth any Lord of high honour, That dare presume, or once thinke it, That his counsaile should passe his lords wit, Nay, Lords be no fooles I sweare by my fay. Ye haue your selfe spoken here to day So high sentence, so holy, and so well, That I consent, and confirme euery dell Your words all, and your opinioun. By God there nis no man in all this toun Ne in Italie, coud better haue saied: Christ holdeth him of this full well apaied. And truly it is an high courage Of any man that is stopen in age, To take a yong wife, by my father kin: Your heart hongeth on a jolly pin. Doth now in this matter right as you lest. For finally I hold it for the best. Iustinus that aye still sat and herd, Right in this wise to Placebo answerd. Now brother mine be patient I you pray, Sith ye haue said, now hearkneth what I say, Senecke among his other words wise * Saith, that a man ought him well auise, To whom he yeueth his lond or his cattell. And sithens I ought auise me right well, To whom I giue my goods away fro me, Well much more I ought auised be, To whom I giue my bodie: for alway I warne you well it is childs play To take a wife without auisement, Men must inquire (this is mine assent) Wheder she be sober, wise, or dronkelew, Or proud, or any other waies a shrew, A chider, or a waster of thy good, Other rich or poore, or els a man is wood: * All be it so, that no man find shall None in this world, that trotteth hole in all, Ne man, ne beast, such as men can deuise, But natheles, it ought inough suffice With any wife, if so were that she had Mo good thewes, than her vices bad: And all this asketh leisure to enquere, For God wot I haue wept many a tere Full priuily, sith I had a wife. * Praise who so woll a wedded mans life, Certaine I find in it but cost and care, And obseruaunces of all blisses bare. And yet God wot my neighbours about And namely of women many a rout, Saine that I have the most stedfast wife, And eke the meekest one that beareth life. * But I wot best, where wringeth me my shoe. Ye may for me, right as you list doe, Auise you, ye been a man of age, How that ye entren into mariage, And namely with a yong wife and a faire. By him that made water, earth, and aire The yongest man that is in all this rout, Is busie ynow to bring it about To haue his wife alone, trusteth me: Ye shall not pleasen her yeres thre. This is to sain, to doen her pleasaunce, A wife asketh full much obseruaunce: I pray you that ye be not euill apaid. Well (qd. this Ianuary) & hast thou all said? Straw for thy Seneck, & for thy prouerbes, I count it not worth a pannier of herbes Of schoole termes, wiser men than thou, As thou hast heard, assenteth it right now To my purpose: Placebo, what say ye? * I say it is a cursed man (qd. he) That letteth Matrimonie sekerly: And with that word they risen suddainly,

And ben assented fully, that he should Be wedded when he list, & where he would. High fantasie and curiousnesse Fro day to day gan in the soule empresse Of Ianuary, about his marriage: Many a faire shap, and many a faire visage Ther passeth thrugh his heart night by night: As who so tooke a mirrour polished bright, And set it in a common market place, Then should he see many a figure pace By his mirrour, and in the same wise Gan Ianuary within his thought deuise Of maidens, which that dwellen beside: He wist not where he might best abide. For if that one had beauty in her face, Another stont so in the peoples grace For her sadnesse and her benignite, That of the people greatest voice had she. And some were rich and had bad name: But nathelesse, betwixt earnest and game, He at last appointed him on one, And let all other from his heart gone: And chese her of his owne authoritee, * For loue is blind all day, and may not see. And when that he was in his bed ybrought, He puttreid in his heart and in his thought Her fresh beauty, and her age so tender. Her middle small, her armes long & slender, Her wise gouernance, and her gentlenesse, Her womanly bearing, and her sadnesse. And when he was on her condiscended, Him thouʒt his choise might not ben amend∣ed. For when that he himself concluded had Him thought ech other mens wit so bad: That impossible it were to replie Ayenst his choice, this was his fantasie. His friends sent he to, at his instaunce, And prayeth hem to done him y^t pleasaunce, That hastily they would to him come, He would bredgen her labour all and some: Needeth no more for him to go ne ride, He was appointed there he would abide. Placebo came, and eke his friends soone, And alder first he bad hem all a boone, That none of hem none arguments make Ayenst his purpose that he hath ytake: Which purpose was pleasant to God (said he) And very ground of his prosperite. He said there was a maiden in the toune, Which for her beautie hath great renoune, All were it so, she were of small degre, Sufficeth him her youth and her beautie: Which maid he said he would haue to wife To liuen in ease and holinesse of life: And thanked God, y^t he might hauen her all, And that no wight his blisse parten shall: And praieth hem to labour in this need, And shapeth that he faile not to speed. For then he saied, his spirit was at ease, Then is (qd. he) nothing may me displease, Saue o thing pricketh in my conscience, The which I woll rehearse in your presence, * I haue (qd. he) heard say full yore ago, There may no man haue perfite blisses two: This is to say, in yearth and eke in heauen. For though he kept him fro the sinnes seuen, And eke from euery braunch of thilke tree, Yet is there so perfit prosperitee And so great ease and lust in mariage, That euer I am agast now in mine age, That I shall lead now so mery a life So delicate without wo or strife, That I shall haue mine heauen in earth here. For sithen very heauen is bought so deere With tribulation and great penaunce, How should I then liuing in such pleasaunce, As all wedded men doen with there wiues, Come to y^t blisse, ther Christ eterne on liue is. This is my drede, and ye my brethren tweie Assoileth me this question I you preie. Iustinus, which that hated his folly, Answerd anon right in his yaperie: And for he would his long tale abrege, He would non authoritie allege, But saied: sir, so there he non obstacle Other than this, God of his hie miracle, And of his mercy may so for you werch, That er ye han your rights of holy cherch, Ye may repent of a wedded mans life, In which ye sain is neither wo ne strife: * And els God forbid, but if he sent A wedded man grace him to repent Well after, rather than a single man. And therefore sir, the best rede that I can Despeireth you not, but haue in memory, * Parauenture, she may be your purgatory, She may be Gods meane and Gods whip, Then shall your soule vp to heauen skip Swifter than doth an arrow out of a bow. I hope to God hereafter ye shall know, That there nis none so great felicite In mariage, ne neuer none shall be, That you shall let of your saluation, So that ye vse as skil is and reason The lusts of your wife attemperatly, And that ye please her nat too amorously: And that ye keep you eke from other sin. My tale is done, for my wit is thin: Beth not agast hereof my deare brother. But wade we fro this matter to another. The wife of Bathe, if ye vnderstand Of mariage, which ye now haue in hand, Declareth full well in a litle space: Fareth now well, God haue you in his grace. And with this word, Iustine & his brother Han take her leaue, and ech of them of other. For whan they saw that it must needs be, They wrought so by wise and slie treate. That she this faire maide which May did hight As hastily as euer that she might Shall wedded be to this Ianuary. I trow it were too long to you to tary, If I you told of euery escrite and bond, By which she was feossed in his lond: Or for to herken of her rich aray. But finally icomen is the day, That to the cherch both tway ben they went, For to receiue the holy Sacrament, Forth cometh the priest, with stole about his necke, And bad her be like Sara and Rebeck In wisedome and truth of marriage: And saied his orisons, as is the vsage,

And crouched hem, & bad God shuld hem bles. And made all seker inow with holines. Thus been they wedded with solemnitie: And at feast sitteth both he and she With other worthy folke vpon the deies, All full of joy and blisse is the palaies, And full of instruments and of vittaile, And that the most deintiest of all Itaile. Beforne him stood instruments of such soun, That Orpheus, ne of Thebes Amphion Ne made neuer such a melodie. At euery course came loude ministralcie, That neuer Ioab tromped for to here, Neither Theodomas yet halfe so clere At Thebes, whan the city was in dout, Bacchus the wine hem skinketh all about, And Venus laugheth on euery wight, For Ianuarie was become her knight: And would now both assain his corage In liberte, and eke in mariage. And with her firebrond in her hond about, Daunceth before the bride all the rout: And certainly, I dare well say right this, Emenius, that God of wedding is, Saw neuer so mery a wedded man. Hold thou thy peace thou poet Marcian, That writest vs that ilke wedding mery Of Philologie and him Mercurie, And of the songs that the Muses song: Too small is both thy pen & eke thy tongue For to discriuen of this marriage, Whan tender youth hath wedded stooping age, There is such mirth, it may not be written, Assaieth your self, than may ye witten If that I lie or non in this matere. May she sit, with so benigne a chere, That her to behold, it seemed a feire. Queen Hester looked neuer with such an eie On Assuere, so meeke a looke hath she. I may you not deuise all her beautie, But thus much of her beautie tell I may, That she was like the bright morow of May Fulfilde of all beautie, and of plesaunce. This Ianuarie is rauished in a traunce, And at euery time he looked in her face, But in his heart he gan her to manace, That he y^t night, in his arms would her strein Harder than euer Paris did Helein. But natheles, yet had he great pittie That thilke night offenden her must he: And thought alas, O tender creature, Now would God ye might well endure All my corage, it is so sharpe and kene, I am agast, ye shall it nat sustene. But God forbid, that I did all my might, Now would to God that it were waxen night, And that the night would last euer mo, I would that all these people were ago. And finally he doth all his labour, As he best might, sauing his honour, To hast hem fro the meat in subtill wise, The time came that reason was to rise, And after that men dauncen, and drinke fast, And spices all about the house they cast: And full of joy and blisse is euery Man, All but a Squire, that hight Damian, Which carfe before the Knight many a day: He was so rauisht on his Lady May, That for very paine he was nie wood, Almost he swelt, and swounded there he stood: So sore hath Venus hurt him wich her brand, So fresh she was, and thereto so licand: And to his bed he went him hastily, No more of him at this time speake I: But there I let him weep inow and plaine, Till the fresh May woll rewen on his paine. O perilous fire, that in the bedsraw bredeth, O familiar foe, that his seruice bedeth. O seruaunt traytour, false homely hew, Like to the Adder slie in bosome vntrue. O Ianuary all drunken in pleasaunce, God shilde vs all from your iniquitaunce Of mariage, see how this Damian, Thine owne squire and eke thy borne man Entendeth to doen thee villanie: God graunt thee thine homely foe to espie. * For in this world nis wers pestilence, Than homely foe, all day in thy presence. Parformed hath the sunne his arke diurne, No lenger may the body of him soiourne On orisont, as in that latitude: Night with his mantill, that is darke & rude, Gan for to spred the Hemisperie aboue: For which departed is the lustie rout Fro Ianuary, with thonke on euery side Home to her house lustely they ride, There as they doen her things, as hem lest, And whan they saw her time they go to rest. Sone after this lustie Ianuarie Woll go to bed, he would no longer tary. He drinketh Ipocras, clarrie, and vernage Of spices hot, to encrease his corage: And many a lectuarie had he full fine, Such as the cursed monke dan Constantine Hath written in his booke of Coitu: To eten hem al he nolde nothing eschew, And thus to his priuie friends saied he: For Gods loue, as sone as it may be, Let voyd all this house in curteis wise sone. Men drinken, and the trauers drew anon, So hasted Ianuarie, it must be done: The bride was brought to bed as stil as ston And whan the bed was with the priest iblessed Out of the chamber euery wight hem dressed. And Ianuary hath fast in armes take His fresh May, his paradise, his make: He lulleth her, he kisseth her full oft With thicke bristles of his beard vnsoft, I like the skin of Houndfish, sharp as brere, For he was shaue all new in his manere: He rubbeth her vpon her tender face, And sayed thus: Alas, I mote trespace To you my spouse, and you greatly offend, Or time come that I woll doune discend. But nathelesse, considreth this (quoth he) There nis no workeman, whatsoeuer he be, That may both wirch well and hastely: This woll be doen at leiser perfectly, It is no force how long that we play, In true wedlocke coupled be we tway: And blessed be the yoke that we been in, For in our acts we mow do no sin.

* A man may do no sin with his wife, Ne yet hurt himself with his own knife: For we haue leaue to play vs by the law. Thus laboureth he, till the day gan daw: And then he taketh a soppe of fine clarre, And vpright in his bed then sitteth he And after he singeth full loud and clere, And kist his wife, and maketh wanton chere. He was all coltish, and full of ragerie, And full of gergon, as is a flecked Pie. The slacke skin about his necke shaketh, While y^t he sang, so chaunteth he & craketh. But God wot what May thoght in her hert, Whan she him saw vp sitting in his shert In his night cap, with his necke all leane: She prayseth not his playing worth a Bean. Then sayed he thus: my rest woll I take How day is come, I may no lenger wake, And down he layed his head & slept till prime: And afterward, when that he saw his time Vp riseth Ianuarie, but the fresh May Holdeth her chamber to the fourth day, As vsage is of wiues for the best. * For euery labour sometime mote haue rest, Or els long may he not to endure. This is to say, no liues creature, Be it fish or beast or brid or man. Now woll I speake of wofull Damian, That langureth for loue, as ye shall here. Therefore I speake to him in this manere. I say, O sely Damian, alas Answer to this demaund, as in this caas, Now shalt thou to thy Lady fresh May Tell thy wo? She woll alway say nay: Eke if thou speake, she woll thy wo bewray. God be thine help, I can no better say. This sicke Damian in Venus fire So brenneth, that he dieth for desire: For which he put his life in aduenture, No lenger might he in this wise endure, But priuily a penner gan he borrow, And in a letter wrote he all his sorrow, In manner of a complaint or a lay Vnto this faire and fresh Lady May. And in a purse of silke, honging on his shert, He hath it put and layed it at his hert. The Moone at moonetide that ilke day (That Ianuarie had iwedded fresh May) Out of Taure was in the Cankre gleden, So long hath May in her chamber bidden As custome is vnto these nobles all: A bride shall not eaten in the hall Till days foure, or three at the least I passed been, than let her go to feast. The fourth day complete fro noone to noone, Whan that the high Masse was now idoon, In hall sat this Ianuary and May, As fresh as is the bright Somers day, And so befell, how that this good man Remembreth him vpon his Damian, And saied: Saint Mary, how may this he, That Damian entendeth not to me? Is he aie sicke: or how may this betide? His squires, which that stoden him beside, Excused him, because of his sicknesse, Which letted him to doen his besinesse: None other cause might make him tary. That me forthinketh (qd. this Ianuary) He is a gentle squire by my trouth, If that he died, it were harme and routh: He is as wise, discreet, and secree, As any man that I wote of his degree, And thereto manly and seruiceable, And for to be a thrifty man right able. But after meat as soone as euer I may I woll my selfe visit him, and eke May, To doen him all the comfort that I can: And for that word, him blessed euery man, That of his bounty and his gentlenesse He would so comforten in his distresse His squire, for it was a gentle deed. Dame (qd. this Ianuary) take good heed, That after meat, ye and your women all (Whan ye haue ben in chamber out of this hall) That all ye gone to see this Damian: Doeth him disport, he is a gentleman, And tellen him that I woll him visite, Haue I nothing but rested me alite: And speed you fast for I woll abide, Till that you sleepen fast by my side. And with that word he gan to him call A squire, that was Marshall of his hall, And told him certaine thing that he would, This fresh May hath streight her way ihold With all her women, vnto this Damian: And downe by his beds side sat she than Comforting him as goodly as she may. This Damian, whan that he his time say In secret wise his purse, and eke his bill (In which he had written all his will) Hath put into her honde withouten more, Saue that he sighed wonderous deep & sore: And sothly, to her right thus sayed he, Mercie, and that ye discouer nat me: For I am dead, if that this thing be kid. This purse hath she in her bosome hid, And went her way, ye get no more of me, But vnto Ianuary icome is she, And on his bed side she sit full soft, He taketh her, and kisseth her full oft: And layed him down to sleep, and that anon. She fained her, as that she must gon Ther as ye wote, that euery wight had need: And whan she of this bill hath taken heed, She rent it all to clouts, and at last Into the priuie, sothly she it cast. Who studieth now but faire fresh May: And downe by Ianuary she lay, That slept, till the cough hath him awaked: Anon he prayed her to strip her all naked, He would of her (he said) haue some pleasance: He said her clothes did him encombrance. And she obeieth he she lefe or loth. But lest y^t precious folk be with me wroth, How that he wrought, I dare nat to you tell, Or wheder she thought it paradise or hell: But I let hem worch in her wise. Till euen song ring, that they must arise. Were it by destenie or by aduenture, Where it by influence, or by nature, Or constellation that in such estate The heauen stood, that time fortunate,

(As for to put a bill of Venus werkes) * For all thing hath time, as saien clerkes To any woman for to get her loue: I cannot say, but the great God aboue That knoweth, that non act is causeles, He deme all, for I woll hold my pees. But soth is this, how that this fresh May Hath take such impression that day Of pittie, on this sicke Damian, That fro her heart she driuen ne can The remembrance for to doen him ease; Certain (thouʒt she) whom this thing dis∣please I recke not, for this I him assure, I loue him best of any creature, Though he no more had than his shert. * Lo pittie renneth sone in gentle hert, Here may ye see, how excellent franchise * In women is whan they hem narow auise. Some tyraunt is, as there be many a one, That hath an heart as hard as any stone, Which would haue letten sterue in the place Well rather than haue granted him her grace: And her rejoyced in her cruel pride, And not haue recked to been an homicide. This gentle Maie, fulfilled of pittie, Right so of her hond a letter made she, In which she graunted him her very grace, There lacked nought, but onely time & place, Where that she might to his lust suffice: For it shall be, right as he woll deuise. And whan she saw her time vpon a day, To visit this Damian goth this faire Maie, And subtilly this letter downe she thrust Vnder his pillow, read it if him lust. She taketh him by the hond, & hard him twist So secretly, that no wight of it wist, And bad him been all whole, & forth she went To Ianuary, when that he for her sent. Vp riseth Damian the next morow, All passed was his sicknesse and his sorowe: He kembeth him & proineth him and piketh, And doth all that his Lady lust and liketh: And eke to Ianuary he goeth as low, As euer did a dog for the bow. He is so pleasaunt to euery man (For craft is all, who that it can) That euery wight is fain to speken him good, And fully in his Ladies grace he stood. Thus let I Damian about his need, And in my tale, forth I woll proceed, Some clerkes holden that felicite Stont in delite, and therefore certain hee This noble Ianuarie, with all his might In honest wise as longeth to a knight, Shope him to liue full deliciously, His housing, his array, as honestly To his degree, was made as a kings. Among other of his honest things He had a garden walled all with stone, So fayre a garden was there neuer none. For out of doubt, I verily suppose, That he that wrote the Romant of the Rose, Ne couth of it the beautie well deuise: Ne Priapus, ne might not suffise, Though he be god of gardens, for to tell The beautie of the garden, and of the well, That stont vnder a laurer alway green: Full oft time king Pluto and his queen Proserpina, and all her fayrie Disporten hem and maken melodie About that well, and daunced as men told. This noble knight, this Ianuarie the old Such deinte hath, in it to walke and play, That he woll suffer no wight to bear y^e kay, Saue he himselfe, for the small wicket He bare alway of siluer a clicket, With which when y^t him list ne would vnshet And when that he would pay his wife her det In summer season thider would he go, And Maie his wife, & no wight but they two: And things which y^t weren not done a bed, He in the garden perfourmed hem and sped. And in this wise, many a mery day Liued this Ianuarie and this fresh May. But worldly joy may not alway endure To Ianuarie, ne to no liuing creature, * O sudden hap, O thou fortune vnstable, Like to the Scorpion diceiuable, That flattrest with thy head when thou wolt sting: Thy tale is deth, thrugh thine enuenoming. O brotell joy, O sweet poyson queint, O monster, that so suddenly canst peint Thy gifts, vnder the hew of stedfastnesse, That thou deceiuest both more and lesse. Why hast thou Ianuary thus deceiued, And haddest him for thy friend receiued? And now thou hast beraft him both his eyen, For sorow of which desireth he to dyen. Alas, this noble Ianuarie that so free, Amidde his lust and his prosperitie Is woxen blind, and all suddenly, His death therefore desireth he vtterly. And therewithall, the fire of jelousie (Lest that his wife should fall in some folly) So brent his heart, that he would full faine, That some man, both him and her had slaine. For neuer after his death, ne in his life Ne would he that she were loue ne wife: But euer liue a widdow in clothes blacke, Sole as the turtle doth y^t hath lost her make. But at the last, after a moneth or tway His sorow gan to swage, soth to say. For whan he wist it might non other be, He paciently tooke his aduersite: Saue out of doubt may he nat forgone, That he nas ielous euer more in one: Which jelousie, it was so outragious, That neither in hall ne in none other house, Ne in none other place neuer mo He nolde suffer her neither ride ne go, But if that he had honde on her alway. For which full often wepeth fresh May, That loued Damian so benignely, That she mote either die sodainely, Or she mote haue him all at her lest: She waiteth whan her heart should to brest. Vpon that other side, Damian Become is the sorowfullest man That euer was, for neither night ne day Ne might he speake a word to fresh May, As to his purpose of no such matere, But if that Ianuary must it here,

That had an hand vpon her euermo. But natheles, by writing to and fro, And priuie signes, wist he what she ment, And she knew all the signes of his entent. O Ianuary, what might thee it auaile? Tho thou mightest see, as far as ships saile: * For as good is a blind man disceived be, As to be disceiued, when that he may see. Lo Argus, which had an hundred eien, For all that euer he couth pore and prien, Yet was he blent, and God wot so ben mo, That wenen wisely that it is not so: Passe ouer is an ease, I say no more. The fresh May, of which I spake of yore In warme waxe, hath printed this clicket, That Ianuary bare of that small wicket, By which vnto his garden oft he went. And Damian that knew all her intent The clicket counterfeited priuily: There nis no more to say, but hastily Some wonder by this clicket shall betide, Which ye shall heren, if ye woll abide. O noble Ouid, sooth sayest thou God wote, * What flight is it, if loue be long and hote, That he nill find it out in some manere: By Pyramus and Thisbe may men lere, Thogh they were kept ful long streit ouer all, They ben accorded, rowning through a wall: There nis no wight couth find such a sleight. But now to purpose, ere the daies eight, Were passed, ere the month Iuly befill, That Ianuary hath caught so great a will Through egging of his wife him for to play, In his garden, and no wight but they tway, That in a morrow, vnto this May said hee, Rise vp my wife, my loue, my lady free: The turtle voice is heard my lady swete, The winter is gone, with all his raines wete, Come forth now with thine eyen columbine, Now fairer been thy brests than is wine. The garden is enclosed all about, Come forth my white spouse out of all dout, Thou hast me wounded in my hert, O wife: No spot in thee nas in all thy life. Come forth and let vs taken our disport, I chese thee for my wife and my comfort. Such old leaud words then vsed he. Vnto Damian a signe made she, That he should go before with his clicket: This Damian hath opened this wicket, And in he stert, and that in such manere, That no wight might it see ne here, And still he sat vnder a bush anone. This Ianuary, as blind as is a stone With May in his hand, and no wight mo, Into his fresh garden is he go, And clapt to the wicket suddainly. Now wife (qd. he) here nis but thou and I, That art the creature that I best loue: For by that lord that sit vs all aboue, I had leuer dien on a knife, Than thee offend my dere true wife. For Gods sake thinke how I thee chees, Not for couetise, ne other good doubtles, But only for the loue I had to thee. And though that I be old and may not see, Be to me true, and I woll tell you why, Certes three things shall ye win thereby. First loue of Christ, & to your selfe honour, And all mine heritage, toune and tour I giue it you, maketh charters as ye list: This shall be done to morrow ere sunne rist So wisely God my soule bring to blisse: I pray you on couenaunt that ye me kisse. And though that I be jelous, wite me nought, Ye been so deepe imprinted in my thought, That when I consider your beaute, And withall, the vnlikely elde of me, I may not certes, though I should die Forbeare to ben out of your companie For very loue, this is withouten dout: Now kisse me wife, and let vs rome about. This fresh May when she these words herd, Benignely to Ianuarie answerd, But first and forward she began to weepe: I haue (qd. she) a soule for to keepe As well as ye, and also mine honour, And of wifehood ilke tender flour, Which that I haue ensured in your hond, When that the priest to you my body bond. Wherefore I woll answere in this manere By the leaue of you my lord so dere. I pray God that neuer daw that day, That I ne sterue, as foule as woman may, If euer I do to my kin that shame, Or els that I empaire so my name, That I be false, and if I do that lacke, Do strip me and put me in a sacke, And in the next riuer do me drench: I am a gentlewoman, and no wench. Why speke ye thus, but men ben euer vntrew, And women haue reproofe of you, aye new. Ye can none other communing, I leue, But speak to vs of vntrust and repreue. And with y^t word she saw where Damian Sat in the bush, and kneele he began: And with her finger signes made she, That Damian should climbe vpon a tre, That charged was with fruite, & vp he went: For verily he knew all her intent, And euery signe that she couth make, Well bet than Ianuarie her owne make. For in a letter she had told him all Of this matter, how that he werch shall. And thus I let him sit in the pery, And Ianuarie and Maie roming full mery. Bright was the day, & blew the firmament, Phebus of gold doun hath his streames sent To gladen every flour with his warmenesse: He was that time in Gemini, as I gesse, But little fro his declination, The causer of Ioues exaltation. And so befell that bright morow tide, That in the garden, on the further side Pluto, that is the king of Fayrie And many a ladie in his companie Following his wife, the queene Proserpine Ech after other right as a line, Whiles she gadred floures in a mead: In Claudian ye may the story read, How in his grisely cart he her fet. This king of Fayrie adoune him set

Vpon a bench of turues fresh and greene, And right anon thus said he to his queene: My wife (qd. he) that may nat say nay Experience so proveth euery day The treason which that women doth to man, Ten hundred thousand stories tell I can, Notable, of your vntrouth and brotelnesse. O Salomon, richest of all richesse, Fulfild of sapience, and of worldly glory, Full worthy ben thy words in memory To euery wight, that wit and reason can: Thus praiseth he the bounty of man. * Among a thousand men yet found I one, But of all women found I neuer none: Thus saith y^e king, y^t knoweth your wicked∣nesse. And Iesus Filius Sirach, as I gesse, Ne speaketh of you but selde reuerence: A wild fire, a corrupt pestilence So fall upon your bodies yet to night: Ne see ye not this honourable knight? Because (alas) that he is blind and old, His owne man shall maken him cuckold. Lo where he sit, the letchour in the tree. Now woll I graunt of my maiestie Vnto this old blind worthy knight, That he shall haue again his eye sight: When that his wife would done him vilanie, Then shall he know all her harlotrie, Both in reprefe of her and other mo. Ye shall (qd. Proserpine) and woll ye so? Now by my mothers soule sir I swere, That I shall yeuen her sufficient answere. And all women after for her sake: That though they been in any gilt ytake With face bolde, they shullen hemselue excuse And bear hem down that would hem accuse. For lacke of answere, non of hem shull dien, All had he see a thing with both his eyen, Yet should we women so visage it hardely, And weepe and swere and chide subtilly, That ye shall been as leude as are gees, What recketh me of your authoritees? I wote well this Iewe, this Salomon, Found of vs women, fooles many one: But though he ne found no good woman, Yet there hath found many an other man Women full true, full good, and vertuous; Witnes of hem that dwell in Christes house, With Martyrdom they preued her constance. The Romain iests eke make remembrance Of many a very true wife also. But sir, he not wroth that it be so, Thogh that he said he found no good woman I pray you take the sentence of the man: * He meant thus, That in soueraign bounte His none but God, that sitteth in trinite. Eye, for very God that nis but one. What make ye so much of Salomon? What though he made a temple, Gods house? What though he were rich and glorious? So made he a temple of false godis, How might he don a thing y^t more fore forbod is? Parde as faire as ye his name emplaster, He was a lechour, and an idolaster, And in his elde, very God forsooke. And if that God nad (as saith the booke) Yspared him for his fathers sake, he should Haue lost his reigne soner than he would. Iset nat of all the villanie, That ye of women write, a butterflie, I am a woman, needs more I speake Or els to swell till that mine heart breake. For sithen he said that we been iangleresses As euer mote I hole broke my tresses, I shall not spare for no curtesie To speak hem harm, that would vs villanie. Dame (qd. this Pluto) be no lenger wroth, I giue it vp: but sith I swore mine oth, That I would graunt him his sight ayen, My word shall stand, y^t warne I you certeine: I am a king, it set me not to lie. And I (quoth she) queen am of Fairie. Her answere she shall haue I vndertake, Let vs no mo words hereof make: Forsoth I will no longer you contrary. Now let vs turne againe to Ianuarie, That in the garden with this faire Maie Singeth merier than the Popingay: You loue I best, and shall, and other non. So long about the alleyes is he gon, Till he was commen ayenst thilke pery, Where as this Damian sitteth full mery On high, among these fresh leues green. This fresh Maie, that is so bright & shene Gan for to sike, and said: alas my side: Now sir (qd. she) for ought that may betide I must haue of these peers that here I see Or I mote die, so sore longeth me To eten some of the small peers greene: Help for hir loue that is heauens queen. I tell you well a woman in my plite, May haue to fruite so great an appetite, That she may dyen, but she it haue. Alas (qd. he) that I ne had here a knaue, That couth climbe, alas, alas (qd. he) For I am blinde, ye sir no force (qd. she) But would ye vouchsafe for Gods sake, The pery in your armes for to take: For well I wot that ye mistrust me, Then would I climbe well ynough (qd. she) So I my foote might set vpon your backe. Forsooth said he, in me shall be no lacke, Might I you helpe all with mine hart blood: He stoupeth down, & on his back she stood, And caught her by a twist, and vp she goth. Ladies I pray you that ye be not wroth, I can nat glose, I am a rude man: And sodainely anon this Damian Gan pullen vp the smocke, and in the throng A great tent a thrifty and a long. She said it was the meriest fit, That euer in her life she was at yet: My lords tent serueth me nothing thus It foldeth twifold by sweet Iesus, He may not swiue not worth a leke: And yet he is full gentill and full meke. This is leuer to me than an euensong. And when that Pluto saw this wrong, To Ianuary he gaue againe his sight, And made him see as well as euer he might: And whan he had caught his sight againe, Ne was there neuer man of thing so faine:

But on his wife his thought was euer mo. Vp to the tree he cast his eyen two, And saw how Damian his wife had dressed In such mannere, it may not be expressed, But if I would speak vncurtesly. And vp he yaf a roring and a cry, As doth the mother when the child shall die: Out helpe, alas, (harow) he gan to cry: For sorrow almost he gan to die, That his wife was swiued in the pery. O strong lady whore what doest thou? And she answered: sir what ayleth you? Haue patience and reason in your minde, I haue you holpen of both your eyen blinde. Vp peril of my soule I shall nat lien As me was taught to help your eyen. Was nothing bet for to make you see, Than strogle with a man vpon a tree: God wot I did it in full good entent. Strogle (qd. he) ye algate in it went As stiffe and as round as any bell: It is no wonder though thy belly swell. Thy smocke on his breast it lay so thech, That stil me thought he pointed on the brech. God giue you both on shames death to dien, He swiued thee, I saw it with mine eyen, Or els I be honged by the halse. Then is (qd. she) my medicine false, For certainely, if that ye might see, Ye would not say these words vnto me, Ye haue some glimsing, and no perfit sight. I see (qd. he) as well as euer I might, Thanked be God, with both mine eyen two, And by my trouth me thought he did so. Ye mase ye mase, good sir (quoth she) This thanke haue I for that I made you see: Alas, quoth she, that euer I was so kind. Now dame, qd. he, let al passe out of mind: Come down my sefe, and if I haue missaid, God helpe me so, as I am euill apaid. But by my fathers soule, I wende haue seyn, How that this Damian had by thee lyen, And that thy smocke had lyen vpon his brest, Ye sir (qd. she) ye may wene as ye lest: * But sir, a man that waketh out of his sleep, He may not suddenly well taken kepe Vpon a thing, ne se it perfectly Till that he be adawed verily. * Right so a man that long hath blinde be, Ne may not suddainly so well ysee First when the sight is new comen again, As he that hath a day or two ysain. Till that your sight istabled be awhile, There may full many a sight you begile. Beware I pray you, for by heauen king * Full many a man weneth to see a thing, And it is all another than it seemeth: * He that misconceiueth oft misdemeth. And with that word she lept down fro y^e tree: This Ianuarie who is glad but he? He kisseth her, he cleppeth her full oft, And on her wombe he stroketh her full oft: And to his paleis home he hath her lad. Now good men I pray you beth ye all glad. Thus endeth here my tale of Ianuarie, God blesse vs all, and his mother Marie.