The Canterbury Tales [401]
saith, withoute fable, A faithful heart ever is acceptable.
Cauteles* whoso useth gladly, gloseth;** *cautious speeches To eschew such it is right high prudence; **deceiveth What ye said ones mine heart opposeth, That my writing japes* in your absence *jests, coarse stories Pleased you much better than my presence: Yet can I more; ye be not excusable; A faithful heart is ever acceptable.
Quaketh my pen; my spirit supposeth That in my writing ye will find offence; Mine hearte welketh* thus; anon it riseth; *withers, faints Now hot, now cold, and after in fervence; That is amiss, is caus'd of negligence, And not of malice; therefore be merciable; A faithful heart is ever acceptable.
L'Envoy.
Forthe, complaint! forth, lacking eloquence; Forth little letter, of enditing lame! I have besought my lady's sapience On thy behalfe, to accept in game Thine inability; do thou the same. Abide! have more yet! *Je serve Joyesse!* *I serve Joy* Now forth, I close thee in holy Venus' name! Thee shall unclose my hearte's governess.
Notes To a Goodly Ballad Of Chaucer
1. This elegant little poem is believed to have been addressed to Margaret, Countess of Pembroke, in whose name Chaucer found one of those opportunities of praising the daisy he never lost. (Transcriber's note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was not the author of this poem)
2. Mieux un in heart which never shall apall: better one who in heart shall never pall -- whose love will never weary.
A BALLAD SENT TO KING RICHARD.
SOMETIME this world was so steadfast and stable, That man's word was held obligation; And now it is so false and deceivable,* *deceitful That word and work, as in conclusion, Be nothing one; for turned up so down Is all this world, through meed* and wilfulness, *bribery That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.
What makes this world to be so variable, But lust* that folk have in dissension? *pleasure For now-a-days a man is held unable* *fit for nothing *But if* he can, by some collusion,** *unless* *fraud, trick Do his neighbour wrong or oppression. What causeth this but wilful wretchedness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness?
Truth is put down, reason is holden fable; Virtue hath now no domination; Pity exil'd, no wight is merciable; Through covetise is blent* discretion; *blinded The worlde hath made permutation From right to wrong, from truth to fickleness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.
L'Envoy.
O Prince! desire to be honourable; Cherish thy folk, and hate extortion; Suffer nothing that may be reprovable* *a subject of reproach To thine estate, done in thy region;* *kingdom Show forth the sword of castigation; Dread God, do law, love thorough worthiness, And wed thy folk again to steadfastness!
L'ENVOY OF CHAUCER TO BUKTON. <1>
My Master Bukton, when of Christ our King Was asked, What is truth or soothfastness? He not a word answer'd to that asking, As who saith, no man is all true, I guess; And therefore, though I highte* to express *promised The sorrow and woe that is in marriage, I dare not write of it no wickedness, Lest I myself fall eft* in such dotage.** *again **folly
I will not say how that it is the chain Of Satanas, on which he gnaweth ever; But I dare say, were he out of his pain, As by his will he would be bounden never. But thilke* doated fool that eft had lever *that Y-chained be, than out of prison creep, God let him never from his woe dissever, Nor no man him bewaile though he weep!
But yet, lest thou do worse, take a wife; Bet is to wed than burn in worse wise; <2> But thou shalt have sorrow on thy flesh *thy life,* *all thy life* And be thy wife's thrall, as say these
Cauteles* whoso useth gladly, gloseth;** *cautious speeches To eschew such it is right high prudence; **deceiveth What ye said ones mine heart opposeth, That my writing japes* in your absence *jests, coarse stories Pleased you much better than my presence: Yet can I more; ye be not excusable; A faithful heart is ever acceptable.
Quaketh my pen; my spirit supposeth That in my writing ye will find offence; Mine hearte welketh* thus; anon it riseth; *withers, faints Now hot, now cold, and after in fervence; That is amiss, is caus'd of negligence, And not of malice; therefore be merciable; A faithful heart is ever acceptable.
L'Envoy.
Forthe, complaint! forth, lacking eloquence; Forth little letter, of enditing lame! I have besought my lady's sapience On thy behalfe, to accept in game Thine inability; do thou the same. Abide! have more yet! *Je serve Joyesse!* *I serve Joy* Now forth, I close thee in holy Venus' name! Thee shall unclose my hearte's governess.
Notes To a Goodly Ballad Of Chaucer
1. This elegant little poem is believed to have been addressed to Margaret, Countess of Pembroke, in whose name Chaucer found one of those opportunities of praising the daisy he never lost. (Transcriber's note: Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was not the author of this poem)
2. Mieux un in heart which never shall apall: better one who in heart shall never pall -- whose love will never weary.
A BALLAD SENT TO KING RICHARD.
SOMETIME this world was so steadfast and stable, That man's word was held obligation; And now it is so false and deceivable,* *deceitful That word and work, as in conclusion, Be nothing one; for turned up so down Is all this world, through meed* and wilfulness, *bribery That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.
What makes this world to be so variable, But lust* that folk have in dissension? *pleasure For now-a-days a man is held unable* *fit for nothing *But if* he can, by some collusion,** *unless* *fraud, trick Do his neighbour wrong or oppression. What causeth this but wilful wretchedness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness?
Truth is put down, reason is holden fable; Virtue hath now no domination; Pity exil'd, no wight is merciable; Through covetise is blent* discretion; *blinded The worlde hath made permutation From right to wrong, from truth to fickleness, That all is lost for lack of steadfastness.
L'Envoy.
O Prince! desire to be honourable; Cherish thy folk, and hate extortion; Suffer nothing that may be reprovable* *a subject of reproach To thine estate, done in thy region;* *kingdom Show forth the sword of castigation; Dread God, do law, love thorough worthiness, And wed thy folk again to steadfastness!
L'ENVOY OF CHAUCER TO BUKTON. <1>
My Master Bukton, when of Christ our King Was asked, What is truth or soothfastness? He not a word answer'd to that asking, As who saith, no man is all true, I guess; And therefore, though I highte* to express *promised The sorrow and woe that is in marriage, I dare not write of it no wickedness, Lest I myself fall eft* in such dotage.** *again **folly
I will not say how that it is the chain Of Satanas, on which he gnaweth ever; But I dare say, were he out of his pain, As by his will he would be bounden never. But thilke* doated fool that eft had lever *that Y-chained be, than out of prison creep, God let him never from his woe dissever, Nor no man him bewaile though he weep!
But yet, lest thou do worse, take a wife; Bet is to wed than burn in worse wise; <2> But thou shalt have sorrow on thy flesh *thy life,* *all thy life* And be thy wife's thrall, as say these