From The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer


Experience, though noon auctoritee
Were in this world, is right ynogh for me
To speke of wo that is in mariage;
For, lordynges, sith I twelve yeer was of age
Thonked be God that is eterne on lyve,
Housbondes at chirche dore I have had fyve . . .

God bad us for to wexe and multiplye;
That gentil text kan I wel understonde . . .
Lo, heere the wise kyng, daun Salomon;
I trowe he hadde wyves mo than oon,
As wolde God it leveful were unto me
To be refresshed half so ofte as he!
Which yifte of God hadde he for alle his wyvys!
No man hath swich that in this world alyve is . . .

Diverse scoles maken parfyt clerkes,
And diverse practyk in many sondry werkes
Maketh the werkman parfyt sekirly;
Of fyve husbondes scoleiyng am I.
Welcome the sixte, whan that ever he shal.
For sothe, I wol nat kepe me chaast in al . . .

Of myn estaat I nyl nat make no boost,
For wel ye know, a lord in his household,
He nath not every vessel al of gold;
Somme been of tree, and doon hir lord servyse.
God clepeth folk to him in sondry wyse . . .
I wol bistowe the flour of al myn age
In the actes and in fruyt of mariage.
Telle me also, to what conclusion
Were membres made of generacion,
And of so partif wys ywroght?
Trusteth right wel, they were nat maad for noght . . .

Why sholde men elles in hir bookes sette
That man shal yelde to his wyf hire dette?
Now wherwith sholde he make his paiement,
If he ne used his sely instrument? . . .

In wyfhod I wol use myn instrument
As frely as my Makere hath it sent.
If I be daungerous, God yeve me sorwe!
Myn housbonde shal it have bothe even and morwe.
When that hym list come forth and paye his dette.
An housbonde I wol have -- I wol nat lette --
Which shal be bothe my dettour and my thral,
And have his tribulacion withal
Upon his flessh, whil that I am his wyf.
I have the power durynge al my lyf . . .

I shal seye sooth; tho housbondes that I hadde,
As thre of hem were goode, and two were badde.
The thre were goode men, and riche, and olde;
Unnethe myghte they the statut holde
In which that they were bounded to me.
Ye woot wel what I meene of this, pardee!
As help me God, I laughe whan I thynke
How pitously a-nyght I made hem swynke! . . .

Now of my fifthe housbonde wol I telle.
God lete his soule never come in helle!
And yet was he to me the mooste shrewe;
That feele I on my ribbes al by rewe,
And ever shal unto myn endyng day.
But in oure bed he was so fressh and gay,
And therwithal so wel koude he me glose,
Whan that he wolde han my bele chose;
That thogh he hadde me bete on every bon,
He koude wynne agayn my love anon . . .

He was, I trowe, twenty wynter oold,
And I was fourty, if I shal seye sooth . . .
And trewely, as myne housbondes tolde me,
I hadde the best quoniam myghte be . . .
I folwed ay myn inclinacioun
By vertu of my constellacioun;
That made me I koude noght withdrawe
My chambre of Venus from a good felawe.


The modernized version