Forsoth I wol no lenger yow contrarie.'
Now let us turne agayn to Januarye,
That in this gardyn with this faire May
Syngeth, ful merier than the papinjay,
'Yow love I best, and schal, and other noon.'
So long about the aleys is he goon,
Til he was come agaynes thilke pirie,
Wher as this Damyan sittith ful mirye
On heigh, among the freische levyes greene.
This freissche May, that is so bright and scheene,
Gan for to syke, and sayd, 'Allas my syde!
Now, sir,' quod sche, 'for aught that may bityde,
I most han of the peres that I see,

Or I moot dye, so sore longith me
To eten of the smale peris greene;
Help for hir love that is of heven queene!
I telle yow wel a womman in my plyt1
May have to fruyt so gret an appetyt
That sche may deyen, but sche it have.'
'Allas!' quod he, 'that I nad heer a knave
That couthe climbe, allas! allas!' quod he,
For I am blynd.' Ye, sire, no fors,' quod sche;
'But wolde ye vouchesauf, for Goddes sake,
The piry inwith your armes for to take,
(For wel I woot that ye mystruste me)
Than schold I clymbe wel y-nough,' quod sche,
'So I my foot might set upon your bak.'
'Certes,' quod he, theron schal be no lak,
Might I yow helpe with myn herte blood."
He stoupith doun, and on his bak sche stood,
And caught hir by a twist, and up sche goth.
(Ladys, I pray yow that ye be not wroth,

2

I can not glose, I am a rude man :)
And sodeinly anoon this Damyan

1 An allusion to the well-known vulgar error about the longings of pregnant women.

Le. a twig.

Gan pullen up the smok, and in he throng."
And whan that Pluto saugh this grete wrong,
To January he gaf agayn his sight,

And made him see as wel as ever he might.
And whan he thus had caught his sight again,
Ne was ther never man of thing so fayn;
But on his wyf his thought was evermo.
Up to the tree he kest his eyghen tuo,
And seigh that Damyan his wyf had dressid
In which maner it may not ben expressid,
But if I wolde speke uncurteisly.
And up he gaf a roryng and a cry,

As doth the moder whan the child schal dye;
'Out! help! allas! harrow!' he gan
to crie;
'O stronge lady stoure, what dos thow?'

And sche answerith: Sire, what eylith yow?
Have paciens and resoun in your mynde,
I have yow holpen on bothe your eyen blynde.
Up peril of my soule, I schal not lyen,
As me was taught to hele with your yen,
Was nothing bet for to make yow see,
Than stroggle with a man upon a tree;
God woot, I dede it in ful good entent.'
'Stroggle!' quod he, 'ye, algat in it went.
God give yow bothe on schames deth to dyen!
He swyved the; I saugh it with myn yen;
And elles be I honged by the hals.'
'Than is,' quod sche, my medicine fals.
For certeynly, if that ye mighten see,
Ye wold not say tho wordes unto me.
Ye han som glymsyng, and no parfyt sight."
'I se,' quod he, 'as wel as ever I might,

Tyrwhitt remarks that after this verse, the printed editions (except Caxton 2, and Pynson 1, 2) have eight others of the lowest and most superfluous ribaldry. Both he and Mr. Wright reject them, together with some others of the same character that occur a little farther on, as not being found in any MS. of authority.

These two lines, not being in the Harl. MS., are given from Tyrwhitt.

(Thankid be God) with bothe myn yen tuo, And by my trouth me thought he did the so.' "Ye mase, mase, goode sir,' quod sche;

'This thank have I for I have maad yow see;
Allas!' quod sche, 'that ever I was so kynde.'
'Now, dame,' quod he, let al passe out of mynde;
Com doun, my leef, and if I have myssayd,
God help me so, as I am evel appayd.

But by my faders soule, I wende have seyn,
How that this Damyan had by the leyn,
And that thy smok had layn upon thy brest.'
'Ye, sire,' quod sche, 'ye may wene as yow lest;
But, sire, a man that wakith out of his slep,
He may not sodeynly wel take keep
Upon a thing, ne seen it parfytly,
Til that he be adawed verrayly.

Right so a man, that long hath blynd i-be,
He may not sodeynly so wel i-se,
First whan the sight is newe comen agayn,
As he that hath a day or tuo i-sayn.
Til that your sight y-stablid be a while,
Ther may ful many a sighte yow bigile.
Beth war, I pray yow, for, by heven king,
Ful many man wenith for to se a thing,
And it is al another than it semeth;
He that mysconceyveth he mysdemeth."

And with that word sche leep doun fro the tre. This January who is glad but he?

He kissith hir, and clippith hir ful ofte,
And on hir wombe he strokith hir ful softe;
And to his paleys hom he hath hir lad.
Now, goode men, I pray yow to be glad.
Thus endith her my tale of Januarye,
God blesse us, and his moder seinte Marie!

He whose senses convey an incorrect idea to his mind, cannot form a correct judgment.

'EX

461

THE SQUYERES PROLOGE.

Y! Goddes mercy!' sayd our Hoste tho,
'Now such a wyf I pray God keep me fra
Lo, whiche sleightes and subtilitees

In wommen ben; for ay as busy as bees
Ben thay us secly men for to desceyve,
And from a soth ever wol thay weyve.
By this Marchaundes tale it proveth wel.
But douteles, as trewe as eny steel
I have a wyf, though that sche pore be;
But of hir tonge a labbyng schrewe is sche;
And yit sche hath an heep of vices mo.
Therof no fors; let alle such thinges go.
But wite ye what? in counseil be it seyd,
Me rewith sore I am unto hir teyd;
And if I scholde reken every vice,
Which that sche hath, I wis I were to nyce;
And cause why, it schuld reported be
And told to hir of som of this meyne,
(Of whom it needith not for to declare,
Syn wommen connen oute such chaffare);'
And eek my witte suffisith nought therto
To tellen al; wherfor my tale is do.'

12

'Sir Squier, com forth, if that your wille be, And say us a tale of love, for certes ye Connen theron as moche as ony man.'

'Nay, sire,' quod he; but I wil say as I can
With herty wil, for I wil not rebelle
Against your wille; a tale wil I telle,
Have me excused if that I speke amys;

My wil is good; and thereto my tale is this.'

Tyrwhitt is at a loss to understand this parenthesis, but it seems to mean, Of whose vices I will not speak; for women, of whom there are many in this company, know well how to divulge it.'

* [A division should probably be made here; see Scheme of the Order of the Tales, vol. ii. pp. 351-354] In the next line but one the Harl. MS. emits of love.

THE SQUYERES TALE.

[THIS tale, to which Warton assigns the first place in the collection, is apparently founded upon a story of Arabian origin, ennobled, no doubt, by Chaucer in the process of transplantation. Almost all the incidents and circumstances are found scattered in different Arabian tales, though not combined in any one. It possesses the fascination of one of the Arabian Nights, deepened in human interest; the special attributes of Oriental fiction are faithfully preserved in its gorgeous details and fantastical enchantments; and it is coloured throughout by those peculiar characteristics of Eastern literature which may be traced to the genius and religion of the people. Brilliancy of fancy the Easterns certainly possess, but it is the fancy of the opium-eater; their highest aspirations never contemplate any enjoyment beyond that of sensuality or power. Supernatural influences enter largely into the machinery of Eastern romance; but they assume the form of magic, and are attached to material charms, as in the brazen horse, the mirror and the ring of this tale. The Oriental fabulists sympathise only with success ; the dignity of suffering virtue finds no responsive chord in their hearts, which are of the earth, earthy. The main differences between the literatures of the East and West may be partially estimated by a comparison between this unfinished tale and the story of Constance, or The Romance of the Saint Graal. The latter are impressed with a feeling of responsibility, and of the immutability of the law of right and wrong, which gives an elevation even to their most extravagant flights. Such moral elevation is sought for in vain in Eastern romance. Apart, however, from the radical defects of this style of fiction, its want of aim and mere sensuousness, The Squyeres Tale displays pre-eminently Chaucer's marvellous powers of picture-writing. The magnificent festivities of a feudal castle, heightened by some glittering touches borrowed from a Saracenic palace, are