I nyl envye no virginité.
Let hem be bred of pured whete seed,
And let us wyves eten barly
And yet with barly bred, men telle can,
Oure Lord Jhesu refreisschide many a man.
In such astaat
as God hath cleped ous
I wil persever, I am not precious;
In wyfhode I wil use myn instrument
Als frely as
my maker hath me it sent.
If I be daungerous, God yive me sorwe,
Myn housbond schal han it at eve and
Whan that him list com forth and pay his dette.
An housbond wol I have, I wol not lette,
schal be bothe my dettour and my thral,
And have his tribulacioun withal
Upon his fleissch, whil that I
am his wyf.
I have the power duryng al my lif
Upon his propre body, and not he;
Right thus thapostil told
it unto me.
And bad oure housbondes for to love us wel;
Al this sentence me likith every del.
Up starte the pardoner, and that anoon;
Now, dame, quod he, by God and by seint Jon,
Ye ben a noble
prechour in this caas.
I was aboute to wedde a wif, allaas!
What? schal I buy it on my fleisch so deere?
had I lever wedde no wyf to yere!
Abyd, quod sche, my tale is not bygonne.
Nay, thou schalt drinke
of another tonne
Er that I go, schal savere wors than ale.
And whan that I have told the forth my tale
tribulacioun in mariage,
Of which I am expert in al myn age,
This is to saye, myself hath ben the whippe,
might thou chese whethir thou wilt sippe
Of thilke tonne, that I schal abroche.
Be war of it, er thou to
For I schal telle ensamples mo than ten:
Who-so that nyl be war by other men
schal other men corrected be.
The same wordes writeth Ptholomé,
Rede in his Almagest, and tak it there.
I wolde praye you, if that youre wille were,
Sayde this pardoner, as ye bigan,
Tel forth youre tale, and
sparith for no man,
Tecche us yonge men of youre practike.
Gladly, quod sche, syns it may yow like.
that I pray to al this companye,
If that I speke after my fantasie,
As taketh nought agreef of that I saye,
myn entente is nought but to playe.
Now, sires, now wol I telle forth my tale.
As ever mote I drinke wyn or ale,
I schal saye soth of housbondes
that I hadde,
As thre of hem were goode, and tuo were badde.
Tuo of hem were goode, riche, and olde;
mighte thay the statute holde,
In which that thay were bounden unto me;
Ye wot wel what I mene of this
As help me God, I laugh whan that I thinke,
How pitously on night I made hem swynke,
But, by my
fay! I told of it no stoor;
Thay hadde me yive her lond and her tresor,
Me nedith not no lenger doon diligence
wynne her love or doon hem reverence.
They lovede me so wel, by God above!
That I tolde no deynte
of her love.
A wys womman wol bysi hir ever in oon
To gete hir love, there sche hath noon.
I had hem holly in myn hond,
And synnes thay hadde me yeven al her lond,
What schuld I take keep
hem for to please,
But it were for my profyt, or myn ease?
I sette hem so on werke, by my fay!
a night they songen weylaway.
The bacoun was nought fet for hem, I trowe,
That som men fecche in
Essex at Donmowe.
I governed hem so wel after my lawe,
That ech of hem ful blisful was and fawe
bringe me gaye thinges fro the faire.
Thay were ful glad whan I spak to hem faire;
For, God it woot, I
chidde hem spitously.
Now herkeneth how I bar me proprely.
Ye wise wyves, that can understonde,
scholde ye speke, and bere hem wrong on honde;
For half so boldely can ther no man
Swere and lye as
a womman can.
(I say not by wyves that ben wise,
But-if it be whan thay ben mysavise.)
I-wis a wif, if that
sche can hir good,
Schal beren him on hond the cow is wood,
And take witnes on hir oughne mayde
hire assent; but herkenith how I sayde.
See, olde caynard, is this thin array?
Why is my neghebores wif
Sche is honoured overal ther sche goth;
I sitte at hom, I have no thrifty cloth.
What dostow at my
Is sche so fair? what, artow amorous?
What roune ye with hir maydenes? benedicite,
olde lecchour, let thi japes be.
And if I have a gossib, or a frend
Withouten gilt, thou chidest as a fend,
that I walk or play unto his hous.
Thou comest hom as dronken as a mous.
And prechist on thy bench,
with evel preef,
Thou saist to me, it is a gret meschief
To wedde a pover womman, for costage;
And if that
sche be riche and of parage,
Thanne saist thou, that it is a tormentrie
To suffre hir pride and hir malencolie.
if that sche be fair, thou verray knave,
Thou saist that every holour wol hir have;
Sche may no while in
That is assayled thus on eche syde.
Thou saist that som folk desire us for riches,
our schap, and som for our fairnes,
And some, for that sche can synge and daunce,
And some for gentilesse
Som for hir handes and hir armes smale:
Thus goth al to the devel by thi tale.
men may nought kepe a castel wal,
It may so be biseged over al.
And if sche be foul, thanne thou saist,
Coveitith every man that sche may se;
For, as a spaynel, sche wol on him lepe.
Til that sche
fynde som man hire to chepe.
Ne noon so gray a goos goth in the lake,
As sayest thou, wol be withouten
And saist, it is an hard thing for to wolde
Thing that no man wol, his willes, holde.
lorel, whan thou gost to bedde,
And that no wys man nedith for to wedde,
Ne no man that entendith unto