And for to be a thrifty man right able.
But after meat, as soon as ever I may
I will myself visit him, and eke May,
To do him all the comfort that I can.”
And for that word him blessed every man,
That of his bounty and his gentleness
He wouldë so comfórten in sickness
His squiër, for it was a gentle deed.
“Dame,” quoth this January, “take good heed,
At after meat, ye with your women all
(When that ye be in chamb’r out of this hall),
That all ye go to see this Damian:
Do him disport, he is a gentle man;
And tellë him that I will him visíte,
Have I nothing but rested me a lite:2904
And speed you fastë, for I will abide
Till that ye sleepë fastë by my side.”
And with that word he gan unto him call
A squiër, that was marshal of his hall,
And told him certain thingës that he wo’ld.
This freshë May hath straight her way y-hold,
With all her women, unto Damian.
Down by his beddë’s sidë sat she than,2905
Comfórting him as goodly as she may.
This Damian, when that his time he say,2906
In secret wise his purse, and eke his bill,
In which that he y-written had his will,
Hath put into her hand withoutë more,
Save that he sighed wondrous deep and sore,
And softëly to her right thus said he:
“Mercy, and that ye not discover me:
For I am dead if that this thing be kid.”2907
The pursë hath she in her bosom hid,
And went her way; ye get no more of me;
But unto January come is she,
That on his beddë’s sidë sat full soft.
He took her, and he kissed her full oft,
And laid him down to sleep, and that anon.
She feigned her as that she mustë gon
There as ye know that every wight must need;
And when she of this bill had taken heed,
She rent it all to cloutës2908 at the last,
And in the privy softëly it cast.
Who studieth2909 now but fairë freshë May?
Adown by oldë January she lay,
That sleptë, till the cough had him awaked:
Anon he pray’d her strippë her all naked,
He would of her, he said, have some pleasánce;
And said her clothës did him incumbránce.
And she obey’d him, be her lefe or loth.2910
But, lest that precious2911 folk be with me wroth,
How that he wrought I dare not to you tell,
Or whether she thought it paradise or hell;
But there I let them worken in their wise
Till evensong ring, and they must arise.
Were it by destiny, or áventure,
Were it by influence, or by natúre,
Or constellation, that in such estate
The heaven stood at that time fortunate
As for to put a bill of Venus’ works
(For allë thing hath time, as say these clerks),
To any woman for to get her love,
I cannot say; but greatë God above,
That knoweth that none act is causëless,
He deem2912 of all, for I will hold my peace.
But sooth is this, how that this freshë May
Hath taken such impressión that day
Of pity on this sickë Damian,
That from her heartë she not drivë can
The remembráncë for to do him ease.2913
“Certain,” thought she, “whom that this thing displease
I reckë not, for here I him assure,
To love him best of any creature,
Though he no morë haddë than his shirt.”
Lo, pity runneth soon in gentle heart.
Here may ye see, how excellent franchise2914
In women is when they them narrow advise.2915
Some tyrant is—as there be many a one—
That hath a heart as hard as any stone,
Which would have let him sterven2916 in the place
Well rather than have granted him her grace;
And then rejoicen in her cruel pride.
And reckon not to be a homicide.
This gentle May, full filled of pitý,
Right of her hand a letter maked she,
In which she granted him her very grace;
There lacked nought, but only day and place,
Where that she might unto his lust suffice:
For it shall be right as he will devise.
And when she saw her time upon a day
To visit this Damían went this May,
And subtilly this letter down she thrust
Under his pillow, read it if him lust.
She took him by the hand, and hard him twist’
So secretly, that no wight of it wist,
And bade him be all whole; and forth she went
To January, when he for her sent.
Up rosë Damian the nextë morrow,
All passed was his sickness and his sorrow.
He combed him, he proined2917 him and picked,
He did all that unto his lady liked;
And eke to January he went as low
As ever did a doggë for the bow.2918
He is so pleasant unto every man
(For craft is all, whoso that do it can),
Every wight is fain to speak him good;
And fully in his lady’s grace he stood.
Thus leave I Damian about his need,
And in my talë forth I will proceed.
Some clerkës2919 holdë that felicitý
Stands in delight; and therefore certain he,
This noble January, with all his might
In honest wise as longeth to a knight,
Shope2920 him to livë full deliciously:
His housing, his array, as honestly2921
To his degree was maked as a king’s.
Amongës other of his honest things
He had a garden wallëd all with stone;
So fair a garden wot I nowhere none.
For out of doubt I verily suppose
That he that wrote the Romance of the Rose2922
Could not of it the beauty well devise;2923
Nor Priapus2924 mightë not well suffice,
Though he be god of gardens, for to tell
The beauty of the garden, and the well2925
That stood under a laurel always green.
Full often time he, Pluto, and his queen
Proserpina, and all their faërie,
Disported them and madë melody
About that well, and danced, as men told.
This noble knight, this January old,
Such dainty2926 had in it to walk and play,
That he would suffer no wight to bear the key,
Save he himself, for of the small wickét
He bare always of silver a clikét,2927
With which, when that him
