How that this falcon got her love again
Repentant, as the story telleth us,
By mediatión of Camballus,
The kingë’s son of which that I you told.
But hencëforth I will my process hold
To speak of áventures, and of battailes,
That yet was never heard so great marvailles.
First I will tellë you of Cambuscan,
That in his timë many a city wan;
And after will I speak of Algarsife,
How he won Theodora to his wife,
For whom full oft in great períl he was,
N’ had he3203 been holpen by the horse of brass.
And after will I speak of Camballó,3204
That fought in listës with the brethren two
For Canacé, ere that he might her win;
And where I left I will again begin.
⋮
The Franklin’s Tale
The Prologue3205
“In faith, Squiër, thou hast thee well acquit,
And gentilly; I praisë well thy wit,”
Quoth the Franklin; “considering thy youthë
So feelingly thou speak’st, Sir, I aloue3206 thee,
As to my doom,3207 there is none that is here
Of eloquencë that shall be thy peer,
If that thou live; God give thee goodë chance,
And in virtúe send thee continuánce,
For of thy speaking I have great daintý.3208
I have a son, and, by the Trinitý;
It were me lever3209 than twenty pound worth land,
Though it right now were fallen in my hand,
He were a man of such discretión
As that ye be: fy on possessión,
But if3210 a man be virtuous withal.
I have my sonë snibbed,3211 and yet shall,
For he to virtue listeth not t’ intend,3212
But for to play at dice, and to dispend,
And lose all that he hath, is his uságe;
And he had lever talkë with a page,
Than to commune with any gentle wight,
There he might learen gentilless aright.”
“Straw for your gentillessë!” quoth our Host.
“What? Frankëlin, pardie, Sir, well thou wost3213
That each of you must tellen at the least
A tale or two, or breakë his behest.”3214
“That know I well, Sir,” quoth the Frankëlin;
“I pray you havë me not in disdain,
Though I to this man speak a word or two.”
“Tell on thy tale, withoutë wordës mo’.”
“Gladly, Sir Host,” quoth he, “I will obey
Unto your will; now hearken what I say;
I will you not contráry in no wise,
As far as that my wittës may suffice.
I pray to God that it may pleasë you,
Then wot I well that it is good enow.
“These oldë gentle Bretons, in their days,
Of divers áventúrës madë lays,3215
Rhymeden in their firstë Breton tongue;
Which layës with their instruments they sung,
Or ellës readë them for their pleasánce;
And one of them have I in remembránce,
Which I shall say with good will as I can.
But, Sirs, because I am a borel3216 man,
At my beginning first I you beseech
Have me excused of my rudë speech.
I learned never rhetoric, certáin;
Thing that I speak, it must be bare and plain.
I slept never on the mount of Parnassó,
Nor learned Marcus Tullius Cicero.
Coloúrës know I none, withoutë dread,3217
But such coloúrs as growen in the mead,
Or ellës such as men dye with or paint;
Coloúrs of rhetoric be to me quaint;3218
My spirit feeleth not of such mattére.
But, if you list, my talë shall ye hear.”
The Tale
In Armoric’, that called is Bretagne,
There was a knight, that lov’d and did his pain3219
To serve a lady in his bestë wise;
And many a labour, many a great emprise,
He for his lady wrought, ere she were won:
For she was one the fairest under sun,
And eke thereto come of so high kindréd,
That well unnethës3220 durst this knight, for dread,
Tell her his woe, his pain, and his distress.
But, at the last, she for his worthiness,
And namëly3221 for his meek obeisánce,
Hath such a pity caught of his penánce,3222
That privily she fell of his accord
To take him for her husband and her lord
(Of such lordship as men have o’er their wives);
And, for to lead the more in bliss their lives,
Of his free will he swore her as a knight,
That never in all his life he day nor night
Should take upon himself no mastery
Against her will, nor kithe3223 her jealousy,
But her obey, and follow her will in all,
As any lover to his lady shall;
Save that the name of sovereignëty
That would he have, for shame of his degree.
She thanked him, and with full great humbléss
She saidë; “Sir, since of your gentleness
Ye proffer me to have so large a reign,
Ne wouldë God never betwixt us twain,
As in my guilt, were either war or strife:3224
Sir, I will be your humble truë wife,
Have here my troth, till that my heartë brest.”3225
Thus be they both in quiet and in rest.
For one thing, Sirës, safely dare I say,
That friends ever each other must obey,
If they will longë hold in company.
Love will not be constrain’d by mastery.
When mast’ry comes, the god of love anon
Beateth3226 his wings, and, farewell, he is gone.
Love is a thing as any spirit free.
Women of kind3227 desirë liberty,
And not to be constrained as a thrall;3228
And so do men, if soothly I say shall.
Look who that is most patiént in love,
He is at his advantage all above.3229
Patience is a high virtúe certáin,
For it vanquísheth, as these clerkës sayn,
Thingës that rigour never should attain.
For every word men may not chide or plain.
Learnë to suffer, or, so may I go,3230
Ye shall it learn whether ye will or no.
For in this world certáin no wight there is,
That he not doth or saith sometimes amiss.
Ire, or sicknéss, or constellatión,3231
Wine, woe, or changing of complexión,
Causeth full oft to do amiss or speaken:
On every wrong a man may not be wreaken.3232
After3233 the timë must be temperance
To every wight that can of3234 governance.
And therefore hath this worthy wisë
