Classic Poem

What sholde I saye? but, at the monthes ende,
This joly clerk Jankin, that was so hende,
Hath wedded me with grete solempnitee;
And to him yaf I al the land and fee
That evere was me yeven ther-before.
But afterward repented me ful sore!
He n'olde suffre nothing of my list;
By God! he smote me ones on the list —
For that I rente out of his book a leef —
That of the stroke myn ere wax al deef.
Stibourn I was as is a leonesse,
And of my tonge a verray jangleresse,
And walke I wolde as I had doon beforn
From hous to hous, although he had it sworn;
For which he oftentimes wolde preche
And me of olde Romain gestes teche:
How he Simplicius Gallus lefte his wif
And hir forsook for terme of al his lif,
Nought but for open-heveded he hir say
Looking out at his dore upon a day.
Another Romain tolde he me by name
That, for his wif was at a someres game
Withoute his witing, he forsook hir eke.
And then wolde he upon his Bible seke
That ilke proverbe of Ecclesiaste
Where he comandeth and forbedeth faste
Man shal not suffre his wif go roule aboute.
Then wolde he saye right thus, withouten doute:
" Whoso that buildeth his hous al of salwes
And priketh his blinde hors over the falwes
And suffreth his wif to go seeken halwes
Is worthy to been hanged on the galwes. "
But al for nought — I sette nought an hawe
Of his proverbes n'of his olde sawe,
Ne I wolde not of him corrected be:
I hate him that my vices telleth me,
And so do mo, God wot, of us than I.
This made him with me wood al outrely:
I n'olde nought forbere him in no cas.
Now wil I say you sooth, by Saint Thomas,
Why that I rente out of his book a leef,
For which he smote me so that I was deef.
He had a book that gladly, night and day,
For his disport he wolde rede alway;
He cleped it Valerie and Theofraste,
At which book he lough alway ful faste.
And eke ther was somtime a clerk at Rome,
A cardinal, that highte Saint Jerome,
That made a book again Jovinian;
In which book eke ther was Tertulan,
Crisippus, Trotula , and Helowis
That was abbesse not fer fro Paris;
And eke the Parables of Salomon,
Ovides " Art " , and bookes many on,
And alle these were bounden in o vol u me.
And every night and day was his cust u me,
When he had leiser and vacacioun
From other worldly occupacioun,
To reden on this book of wikked wives.
He knew of hem mo legendes and lives
Than been of goode wives in the Bible.
For trusteth wel, it is an impossible
That any clerk wil speke good of wives,
But if it be of holy saintes lives,
Ne of none other womman never the mo.
Who painted the leon, tel me who?
By God! if wommen hadde writen stories,
As clerkes han withinne her oratories,
They wolde han writen of men more wikkednesse
Than al the mark of Adam may redresse.
The children of Merc u rie and Ven u s
Been in her werking ful contrarius:
Merc u rie loveth wisdom and science,
And Venus loveth riot and dispence;
And for her diverse disposicioun
Ech falleth in otheres exaltacioun;
And thus, God wot, Merc u rie is desolat
In Pisces, wher Ven u s is exaltat;
And Venus falleth ther Merc u rie is raised.
Therfore no womman of no clerk is praised.
The clerk, when he is old and may nought do
Of Venus werkes worth his olde sho,
Then sit he down and writ in his dotage
That wommen can not kepe her mariage!
But now to purpos, why I tolde thee
That I was beten for a book, pardee!
Upon a night Jankin, that was our sire,
Redde on his book, as he sat by the fire,
Of Eva first, that for hir wikkednesse
Was al mankinde brought to wrechednesse;
For which that Jesu Crist Himself was slain,
That boughte us with His herte-blood again.
Lo, here expres of wimmen may ye finde
That womman was the los of al mankinde.
Tho redde he me how Sampson loste his heres:
Sleeping, his lemman kitte it with hir sheres,
Th u rgh which tresoun loste he bothe his eyen.
Tho redde he me (if that I shal not lyen)
Of Hercules and of his Dianyre,
That caused him to sette himself afire.
Nothing forgat he the sorwe and the wo
That Socrates had with his wives two:
How Xantippa caste pisse upon his heed.
This sely man sat stille as he were deed;
He wiped his heed, namore dorste he sayn
But " er that thonder stinte comth a rain " .
Of Phasipha, that was the queene of Crete,
For shrewednesse, him thoughte the tale swete;
Fy! spek namore — it is a grisly thing —
Of hir horrible lust and hir liking.
Of Clitermystra, for hir lecherye
That falsly made hir housband for to dye —
He redde it with ful good devocioun.
He tolde me eke for what occasioun
Amphiorax at Thebes loste his lif:
Myn housband had a legende of his wif
Eriphilem, that for an ouche of gold
Hath privily unto the Grekes told
Wher that hir housband hidde him in a place,
For which he had at Thebes sory grace.
Of Livia tolde he me, and of Lucye:
They bothe made her housbandes for to dye —
That one for love, that other was for hate.
Livia hir housband, on an even late,
Empoisoned hath, for that she was his fo;
Lucia likerous loved hir housband so
That, for he sholde alway upon hir thinke,
She yaf him swich a maner love-drinke
That he was deed er it were by the morwe.
And thus algates housbandes han sorwe.
Then tolde he me how one Latumius
Complained unto his felawe Arrius
That in his gardin growed swich a tree
On which he saide how that his wives three
Hanged hemself for hertes despitus.
" O leeve brother " , quod this Arrius,
" Yif me a plante of th'ilke blissed tree,
And in my gardin planted it shal be. "
Of latter date of wives hath he red
That some han slain her housbandes in her bed,
And lete hir lechour dighte hir al the night,
When that the corps lay in the floor upright.
And some han drive nailes in her brain
Whil that they slepte, and thus they han hem slain.
Some han hem yeve poisoun in her drinke.
He spak more harm than herte may bethinke;
And therwithal he knew of mo proverbes
Than in this world ther growen gras or herbes:
" Bet is " , quod he, " thyn habitacioun
Be with a leoun or a foul dragoun
Than with a womman using for to chide. "
" Bet is " , quod he, " hye in the roof abide
Than with an angry wif down in the hous;
They been so wikked and contrarious,
They haten that her housbandes loveth ay. "
He saide " a womman cast hir shame away
When she cast of hir smok " ; and forthermo,
" A fair womman, but she be chast also,
Is like a gold ring in a sowes nose. "
Who wolde wene or who wolde suppose
The wo that in myn herte was, and pine?
And when I saugh he wolde nevere fine
To reden on this cursed book al night,
Al sodeinly three leves have I plight
Out of his book, right as he redde, and eke
I with my fist so took him on the cheke
That in our fyr he fil bakward a-down.
And he up stirte as doth a wood leoun,
And with his fist he smote me on the heed,
That in the floor I lay as I were deed.
And when he saugh how stille that I lay,
He was agast and wolde han fled his way,
Til atte laste out of my swough I braide.
" O! hast thou slain me, false theef? " I saide,
" And for my land thus hast thou mordred me?
Er I be deed, yet wil I kisse thee. "
And neer he cam, and kneled faire a-down,
And saide: " Deere sister Alisoun,
As help me God, I shal thee nevere smite.
That I have done, it is thyself to wite;
Foryeve it me, and that I thee beseke! "
And yet eftsoones I hitte him on the cheke,
And saide " Theef! thus muchel am I wreke;
Now wil I die, I may no lenger speke. "
But atte laste, with muchel care and wo,
We fille acorded by us selven two:
He yaf me al the bridel in myn hand,
To han the governaunce of hous and land,
And of his tonge and of his hand also;
And made him brenne his book anon right tho.
And when that I had geten unto me,
By maistrye, al the soverainetee,
And that he saide " myn owne trewe wif,
Do as thee lust the terme of al thy lif,
Keep thyn honour and keep eke myn estate " —
After that day we hadden nevere debate.
God help me so, I was to him as kinde
As any wif from Denmark unto Inde,
And also trewe, and so was he to me.
I pray to God, that sit in magestee,
So blesse his soule for His mercy deere.
Now wil I say my tale, if ye wil heere."

Beholde the wordes betwene the Somnour and the Frere

The Frere lough when he had herd al this:
" Now dame", quod he, " so have I joye or blis,
This is a long preamble of a tale!"
And when the Somnour herde the Frere gale,
" Lo," quod the Somnour, " Goddes armes two!
A frere wil entremette him everemo.
Lo, goode men, a flye and eke a frere
Wil falle in every dish and eke matere.
What spekest thou of preambulacioun?
What! amble or trotte or pees or go sit down!
Thou lettest our disport in this manere."
" Ye, wilt thou so, sir Somnour?" quod the Frere,
" Now, by my faith, I shal, er that I go,
Telle of a Somnour swich a tale or two
That al the folk shal laughen in this place."
" Now elles, Frere, I beshrewe thy face",
Quod this Somnour, " and I beshrewe me,
But if I telle tales two or three
Of freres, er I come to Sidingborne,
That I shal make thyn herte for to morne —
For wel I wot thy pacience is gon".
Our Hoste cride " Pees! and that anon!"
And saide, " Let the womman telle hir tale.
Ye fare as folk that drunken been of ale.
Do, dame, telle forth your tale, and that is best."
" Al redy, sire," quod she, " right as you lest,
If I have licence of this worthy Frere."
" Yis, dame," quod he, " tel forth, and I wil heere."