The Canterbury Tales [334]
*compensation As we had won it with labour; For that is deare bought honour, *At the regard of* our great ease. *in comparison with* *And yet* ye must us more please; *in addition* Let us be holden eke thereto Worthy, and wise, and good also, And rich, and happy unto love, For Godde's love, that sits above; Though we may not the body have Of women, yet, so God you save, Let men glue* on us the name; *fasten Sufficeth that we have the fame." "I grante," quoth she, "by my troth; Now Aeolus, withoute sloth, Take out thy trump of gold," quoth she, "And blow as they have asked me, That ev'ry man ween* them at ease, *believe Although they go in full *bad leas."* *sorry plight* This Aeolus gan it so blow, That through the world it was y-know.
Then came the seventh rout anon, And fell on knees ev'ry one, And saide, "Lady, grant us soon The same thing, the same boon, Which *this next folk* you have done." *the people just before us* "Fy on you," quoth she, "ev'ry one! Ye nasty swine, ye idle wretches, Full fill'd of rotten slowe tetches!* *blemishes <75> What? false thieves! ere ye would *Be famous good,* and nothing n'ould *have good fame* Deserve why, nor never raught,* *recked, cared (to do so) Men rather you to hangen ought. For ye be like the sleepy cat, That would have fish; but, know'st thou what? He woulde no thing wet his claws. Evil thrift come to your jaws, And eke to mine, if I it grant, Or do favour you to avaunt.* *boast your deeds Thou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace, Go, blow this folk a *sorry grace,"* *disgrace Quoth she, "anon; and know'st thou how? As I shall telle thee right now, Say, these be they that would honour Have, and do no kind of labour, Nor do no good, and yet have laud, And that men ween'd that Belle Isaude <76> *Could them not of love wern;* *could not refuse them her love* And yet she that grinds at the quern* *mill <77> Is all too good to ease their heart." This Aeolus anon upstart, And with his blacke clarioun He gan to blazen out a soun' As loud as bellows wind in hell; And eke therewith, the sooth to tell, This sounde was so full of japes,* *jests As ever were mows* in apes; *grimaces And that went all the world about, That ev'ry wight gan on them shout, And for to laugh as they were wood;* *mad *Such game found they in their hood.* <78> *so were they ridiculed*
Then came another company, That hadde done the treachery, The harm, and the great wickedness, That any hearte coulde guess; And prayed her to have good fame, And that she would do them no shame, But give them los and good renown, And *do it blow* in clarioun. *cause it to be blown* "Nay, wis!" quoth she, "it were a vice; All be there in me no justice, Me liste not to do it now, Nor this will I grant to you."
Then came there leaping in a rout,* *crowd And gan to clappen* all about *strike, knock Every man upon the crown, That all the hall began to soun'; And saide; "Lady lefe* and dear, *loved We be such folk as ye may hear. To tellen all the tale aright, We be shrewes* every wight, *wicked, impious people And have delight in wickedness, As goode folk have in goodness, And joy to be y-knowen shrews, And full of vice and *wicked thews;* *evil qualities* Wherefore we pray you *on a row,* *all together* That our fame be such y-know In all things right as it is." "I grant it you," quoth she, "y-wis. But what art thou that say'st this tale, That wearest on thy hose a pale,* *vertical stripe And on thy tippet such a bell?" "Madame," quoth he, "sooth to tell, I am
Then came the seventh rout anon, And fell on knees ev'ry one, And saide, "Lady, grant us soon The same thing, the same boon, Which *this next folk* you have done." *the people just before us* "Fy on you," quoth she, "ev'ry one! Ye nasty swine, ye idle wretches, Full fill'd of rotten slowe tetches!* *blemishes <75> What? false thieves! ere ye would *Be famous good,* and nothing n'ould *have good fame* Deserve why, nor never raught,* *recked, cared (to do so) Men rather you to hangen ought. For ye be like the sleepy cat, That would have fish; but, know'st thou what? He woulde no thing wet his claws. Evil thrift come to your jaws, And eke to mine, if I it grant, Or do favour you to avaunt.* *boast your deeds Thou Aeolus, thou King of Thrace, Go, blow this folk a *sorry grace,"* *disgrace Quoth she, "anon; and know'st thou how? As I shall telle thee right now, Say, these be they that would honour Have, and do no kind of labour, Nor do no good, and yet have laud, And that men ween'd that Belle Isaude <76> *Could them not of love wern;* *could not refuse them her love* And yet she that grinds at the quern* *mill <77> Is all too good to ease their heart." This Aeolus anon upstart, And with his blacke clarioun He gan to blazen out a soun' As loud as bellows wind in hell; And eke therewith, the sooth to tell, This sounde was so full of japes,* *jests As ever were mows* in apes; *grimaces And that went all the world about, That ev'ry wight gan on them shout, And for to laugh as they were wood;* *mad *Such game found they in their hood.* <78> *so were they ridiculed*
Then came another company, That hadde done the treachery, The harm, and the great wickedness, That any hearte coulde guess; And prayed her to have good fame, And that she would do them no shame, But give them los and good renown, And *do it blow* in clarioun. *cause it to be blown* "Nay, wis!" quoth she, "it were a vice; All be there in me no justice, Me liste not to do it now, Nor this will I grant to you."
Then came there leaping in a rout,* *crowd And gan to clappen* all about *strike, knock Every man upon the crown, That all the hall began to soun'; And saide; "Lady lefe* and dear, *loved We be such folk as ye may hear. To tellen all the tale aright, We be shrewes* every wight, *wicked, impious people And have delight in wickedness, As goode folk have in goodness, And joy to be y-knowen shrews, And full of vice and *wicked thews;* *evil qualities* Wherefore we pray you *on a row,* *all together* That our fame be such y-know In all things right as it is." "I grant it you," quoth she, "y-wis. But what art thou that say'st this tale, That wearest on thy hose a pale,* *vertical stripe And on thy tippet such a bell?" "Madame," quoth he, "sooth to tell, I am