The Monk’s Tale: Prologue

WHEN ended was my tale of Melibee,And of Prudence and her benignity,Our Hoste said, “As I am faithful man,And by the precious corpus Madrian,I had lever than a barrel of ale,That goode lefe my wife had heard this tale;For she is no thing of such patienceAs was this Melibœus’ wife Prudence.By Godde’s bones! when I beat my knavesShe bringeth me the greate clubbed staves,And crieth, ‘Slay the dogges every one,And break of them both back and ev’ry bone.’And if that any neighebour of mineWill not in church unto my wife incline,Or be so hardy to her to trespace,When she comes home she rampeth in my face,And crieth, ‘False coward, wreak thy wifeBy corpus Domini, I will have thy knife,And thou shalt have my distaff, and go spin.’From day till night right thus she will begin.‘Alas!’ she saith, ‘that ever I was shapeTo wed a milksop, or a coward ape,That will be overlad with every wight!Thou darest not stand by thy wife’s right.’

“This is my life, but if that I will fight;And out at door anon I must me dight,Or elles I am lost, but if that IBe, like a wilde lion, fool-hardy.I wot well she will do me slay some daySome neighebour and thenne go my way;For I am perilous with knife in hand,Albeit that I dare not her withstand;For she is big in armes, by my faith!That shall he find, that her misdoth or saith.But let us pass away from this mattere.My lord the Monk,” quoth he, “be merry of cheer,For ye shall tell a tale truely.Lo, Rochester stands here faste by.Ride forth, mine owen lord, break not our game.But by my troth I cannot tell your name;Whether shall I call you my lord Dan John,Or Dan Thomas, or elles Dan Albon?Of what house be ye, by your father’s kin?I vow to God, thou hast a full fair skin;It is a gentle pasture where thou go’st;Thou art not like a penant or a ghost.Upon my faith thou art some officer,Some worthy sexton, or some cellarer.For by my father’s soul, as to my dome,Thou art a master when thou art at home;No poore cloisterer, nor no novice,But a governor, both wily and wise,And therewithal, of brawnes and of bones,A right well-faring person for the nonce.I pray to God give him confusionThat first thee brought into religion.Thou would’st have been a treade-fowl aright;Hadst thou as greate leave, as thou hast might,To perform all thy lust in engendrure,Thou hadst begotten many a creature.Alas! why wearest thou so wide a cope?God give me sorrow, but, an I were pope,Not only thou, but every mighty man,Though he were shorn full high upon his pan,Should have a wife; for all this world is lorn;Religion hath ta’en up all the cornOf treading, and we borel men be shrimps:Of feeble trees there come wretched imps.This maketh that our heires be so slenderAnd feeble, that they may not well engender.This maketh that our wives will assayReligious folk, for they may better payOf Venus’ payementes than may we:God wot, no lusheburghes paye ye.But be not wroth, my lord, though that I play;Full oft in game a sooth have I heard say.”

This worthy Monk took all in patience,And said, “I will do all my diligence,As far as souneth unto honesty,To telle you a tale, or two or three.And if you list to hearken hitherward,I will you say the life of Saint Edward;Or elles first tragedies I will tell,Of which I have an hundred in my cell.Tragedy is to say a certain story,As olde bookes maken us memory,Of him that stood in great prosperity,And is y-fallen out of high degreeIn misery, and endeth wretchedly.And they be versified commonlyOf six feet, which men call hexametron;In prose eke be indited many a one,And eke in metre, in many a sundry wise.Lo, this declaring ought enough suffice.Now hearken, if ye like for to hear.But first I you beseech in this mattere,Though I by order telle not these things,Be it of popes, emperors, or kings,After their ages, as men written find,But tell them some before and some behind,As it now cometh to my remembrance,Have me excused of mine ignorance.”