As thou right now were crept out of the ground,
Nor ever ere now haddest knowen me.
For, Sir, I will not take a penny of thee
For all my craft, nor naught for my travail;3416
Thou hast y-payed well for my vitáille;
It is enough; and farewell, have good day.”
And took his horse, and forth he went his way.
Lordings, this question would I askë now,
Which was the mostë free,3417 as thinketh you?
Now tellë me, ere that ye farther wend.
I can3418 no more, my tale is at an end.
The Doctor’s Tale
The Prologue3419
[“Yea, let that passë,” quoth our Host, “as now.
Sir Doctor of Physík, I prayë you,
Tell us a tale of some honést mattére.”
“It shall be done, if that ye will it hear,”
Said this Doctór; and his tale gan anon.
“Now, good men,” quoth he, “hearken everyone.”]
The Tale
There was, as telleth Titus Livius,3420
A knight, that called was Virginius,
Full filled of honoúr and worthiness,
And strong of friendës, and of great richéss.
This knight one daughter haddë by his wife;
No children had he more in all his life.
Fair was this maid in excellent beautý
Aboven ev’ry wight that man may see:
For nature had with sov’reign diligence
Y-formed her in so great excellence,
As though she wouldë say, “Lo, I, Natúre,
Thus can I form and paint a creatúre,
When that me list; who can me counterfeit?
Pygmalion? not though he aye forge and beat,
Or grave or paintë: for I dare well sayn,
Apelles, Zeuxis, shouldë work in vain,
Either to grave, or paint, or forge, or beat,
If they presumed me to counterfeit.
For he that is the former principal,
Hath madë me his vicar-general
To form and painten earthly creatúrës
Right as me list, and all thing in my cure3421 is,
Under the moonë, that may wane and wax.
And for my work right nothing will I ax;3422
My lord and I be full of one accord.
I made her to the worship3423 of my lord;
So do I all mine other creatúres,
What colour that they have, or what figúres.”
Thus seemeth me that Nature wouldë say.
This maiden was of age twelve year and tway,
In which that Nature haddë such delight.
For right as she can paint a lily white,
And red a rose, right with such paintúre
She painted had this noble creatúre,
Ere she was born, upon her limbës free,
Where as by right such colours shouldë be:
And Phoebus dyed had her tresses great,
Like to the streamës3424 of his burned heat.
And if that excellent was her beautý,
A thousand-fold more virtuous was she.
In her there lacked no conditión,
That is to praise, as by discretión.
As well in ghost3425 as body chaste was she:
For which she flower’d in virginitý,
With all humility and abstinence,
With allë temperance and patience,
With measure3426 eke of bearing and array.
Discreet she was in answering alway,
Though she were wise as Pallas, dare I sayn;
Her faconde3427 eke full womanly and plain,
No counterfeited termës haddë she
To seemë wise; but after her degree
She spake, and all her wordës more and less
Sounding in virtue and in gentleness.
Shamefast she was in maiden’s shamefastness,
Constant in heart, and ever in business3428
To drive her out of idle sluggardy:
Bacchus had of her mouth right no mast’rý.
For wine and slothë3429 do Venús increase,
As men in fire will casten oil and grease.
And of her owen virtue, unconstrain’d,
She had herself full often sick y-feign’d,
For that she wouldë flee the company,
Where likely was to treaten of follý,
As is at feasts, at revels, and at dances,
That be occasións of dalliánces.
Such thingës makë children for to be
Too soonë ripe and bold, as men may see,
Which is full perilous, and hath been yore;3430
For all too soonë may she learnë lore
Of boldëness, when that she is a wife.
And ye mistrésses,3431 in your oldë life
That lordës’ daughters have in governánce,
Takë not of my wordës displeasánce:
Thinkë that ye be set in governings
Of lordës’ daughters only for two things;
Either for ye have kept your honesty,
Or else for ye have fallen in frailtý
And knowë well enough the oldë dance,
And have forsaken fully such meschance3432
For evermore; therefore, for Christë’s sake,
To teach them virtue look that ye not slake.3433
A thief of venison, that hath forlaft3434
His lik’rousness,3435 and all his oldë craft,
Can keep a forest best of any man;
Now keep them well, for if ye will ye can.
Look well, that ye unto no vice assent,
Lest ye be damned for your wick’3436 intent,
For whoso doth, a traitor is certáin;
And takë keep3437 of that I shall you sayn;
Of allë treason, sov’reign pestilence
Is when a wight betrayeth innocence.
Ye fathers, and ye mothers eke also,
Though ye have children, be it one or mo’,
Yours is the charge of all their surveyance,3438
While that they be under your governance.
Beware, that by example of your livíng,
Or by your negligence in chastisíng,
That they not perish for I dare well say,
If that they do, ye shall it dear abeye.3439
Under a shepherd soft and negligent
The wolf hath many a sheep and lamb to-rent.
Sufficë this example now as here,
For I must turn again to my mattére.
This maid, of which I tell my tale express,
She kept herself, her needed no mistréss;
For in her living maidens mightë read,
As in a book, ev’ry good word and deed
That longeth to a maiden virtuous;
She was so prudent and so bounteous.
For which the fame out sprang on every side
Both of her beauty and her bounté3440 wide:
That through the land they praised her each one
That loved virtue, save envý alone,
That sorry is of other mannë’s weal,
And glad is of his sorrow and unheal3441—
The Doctor maketh this descriptioún.3442—
This maiden on a day went in the town
Toward a temple, with her mother dear,
As is of youngë maidens the mannére.
Now was there then a justice in that town,
That governor was of that regioún:
And so
