Once there was,
dwelling in Lombardy, a worthy knight who had lived nobly for sixty
years without a wife. However when this knight,January, had turned
sixty, whether out of devotion or dotage, he decided to finally be married.
He searched for prospects, now convinced that the married life was a
paradise on earth, particularly keen to take a young, beautiful wife.The
narrator then defies Theophrastus, the author of a tract attacking
marriage, arguing that a wife is God’s gift, which will last longer than
any other gift of Fortune. There follows a lengthy passage extolling
the virtues of a wife, and the virtue of marriage, citing many biblical
examples.January one day sent for all of his friends, telling them of
his intent to marry, explaining that he was ill and old, and wanted a
wife no older than twenty, which he could mold like warm wax in his
hands. Various men gave him various advice about marriage, some praising
it, some arguing against it, and the altercation continued all day. The
core of the argument was between Placebo and Justinus. Placebo cited
Solomon, advising January that it would be excellent to marry a young
wife, and telling him to do exactly as he pleased. Justinus cited
Seneca, arguing that January should be more careful and more thoughtful
before taking a wife, warning that a young wife was like to cuckold an
old husband.“Straw for thy Senek!” January responds, agreeing with
Placebo’s response that only a “cursed man” would argue against
marriage; and with that word, they all arose and January began to
prepare for his wedding.
Fair women and fair bodies passed through January’s head like images reflected on a mirror set up in a market-place – but eventually, January selected one women from the many available to him.Calling his friends to him again, January asked them not to make any arguments against what he had resolved to do, and voiced his only concern - that a man who finds perfect happiness on earth, as he would with his wife,would never find a similar happiness in heaven, for one must choose between one perfect happiness and another. Justinus, furious with January’s foolishness, advised him that God sent a married man more reason to repent than a single man, and so, married, he might be more likely to get to heaven – even suggesting that marriage might be January's purgatory.The narrator then, by way of an occupatio leaves out the wedding ceremony, but tells us that January married his intended, May, in a lavish and joyous ceremony. Venus, the goddess of love, laughed at all of the guests, as January had become one of her knights: when tender youth has wedded stooping age, the narrator continues, there is such mirth that it cannot be written.At the end of the feast, the men cast spices around the wedding house, and everyone was full of joy –except for Damian, the knight’s squire, who was so in love with the lady May that he was almost mad. The men rode home, and said their farewells and thanks to January, who then decided he would go to bed. He drank strong spiced and sweetened wines, and many a medical mixture, before taking his fresh wife in his arms, rocking her and kissing her often, his bristly beard scratching her tender skin. January made an apology for the offense he was about to do her, but reminding her that legally, he could do whatever he liked to her body. The two then had sex until the day began to dawn, at which point January awoke, drank some bread in wine, and sang loudly, sitting upright in his bed. Quite what May thought of all this, only God knows, the narrator comments – though she thought his sexual exploits absolutely useless.However, Damian, had written a love letter to May that he pinned in a silk purse next to his heart. One day, Damian was not attending January, and to cover for him the other squires told January that Damian was sick. May and January sat at dinner, and January decided to send May to visit Damian, to tell him that January would soon visit soon, after he had rested. May went straight to Damian, and, secretly, Damian slipped his letter into her hand: knowing that she could not afford to have it discovered, May hid the letter in her bosom. Reading it later, she tore it up and cast it in the toilet so as not to have it discovered.May had already decided to return Damian’s advances, and replied to his letter telling as much –taking her letter to his bedroom, putting it under his pillow and giving him a secret handshake. Damian awoke the next morning, his sickness all vanished, and returned to serve January humbly. January's house had a garden so magnificent, the narrator now continues, that even he who wrote Romance of the Rose could not describe its beauty, nor could Priapus accurately describe its art. January loved this garden so much that only he possessed the key to it. In the summer he would go there with May and have sex. January had also, in this time, become blind and became increasingly possessive of his wife, which caused Damian great grief – and May too wept very often, for January was always in her company. However, May and Damian kept in touch via letter, and by various secret signs.May imprinted January’s key to the garden in warm wax, and Damian made a secret copy of the key.
The eighth of June came round, and January decided, thanks to the incitement of his wife, to go and have sex in his beautiful garden. He sang a beautiful song to awake his wife and tempt her to the garden, and eventually, January, blind as a stone, and May, unlocked the gate and stepped into the garden.Damian had already entered the garden, as May had made signs to him to do so, and now she signaled to him to climb up a nearby tree, full of fruit. At this point, the narrator makes an unusual departure from the supposed realism of January’s story to narrate the descent of Pluto and Proserpina into the garden, who have a long argument about marriage, citing various classical sources. Pluto, feeling pity for January, wants to restore January’s sight so that he can see the villainy about to be done behind his back; Prosperina rejects his argument, telling him that the classical sources which proclaim the evil of women missed out the evil performed by men. Proserpina wants May to have sex with Damian; Pluto wants to restore his sight to prevent it - and Proserpina forcibly ends the argument.
Damian sat high in the pear tree, and May told her husband she longed to pick and eat one of the pears. January bent over so that May could stand on his back to climb the tree - she grabbed a branch, and climbed up into the tree with Damian, who pulled up her dress and began to have sex with her. But, when Pluto saw this, he restored January’s sight – and January, seeing his cuckoldry, let out a huge roar and asked his wife what she was doing.Without missing a beat, May responds that she had been told that the best way to restore January’s eyesight was to “struggle” with a man in a tree; January responds that she was not struggling, but having full penetrative sex. In that case, May continues, her medicine is false – January clearly isn’t seeing clearly, she argues. And when January asserts that he can see perfectly, May rejoices that she has restored her sight, and persuades January that he did not see her having sex with Damian. January is delighted, kisses her and hugs her, and strokes her on her stomach, leading her home to this house.
Epilogue to the Merchant’s Tale
“Goddes mercy!” said the Host, praying God to keep him from such a wife, and noting that clever wives easily deceive foolish men by ducking away from the truth. “I have a wyf”, the Host continues, who, though she is poor, is a shrew, always blabbing – and she has several other vices too! The Host then cuts himself off again from discussing his wife, as he worries that someone in the company will report his doing so back to his wife. He is, he claims, clever enough not to reveal everything, and therefore his tale is done.
Fair women and fair bodies passed through January’s head like images reflected on a mirror set up in a market-place – but eventually, January selected one women from the many available to him.Calling his friends to him again, January asked them not to make any arguments against what he had resolved to do, and voiced his only concern - that a man who finds perfect happiness on earth, as he would with his wife,would never find a similar happiness in heaven, for one must choose between one perfect happiness and another. Justinus, furious with January’s foolishness, advised him that God sent a married man more reason to repent than a single man, and so, married, he might be more likely to get to heaven – even suggesting that marriage might be January's purgatory.The narrator then, by way of an occupatio leaves out the wedding ceremony, but tells us that January married his intended, May, in a lavish and joyous ceremony. Venus, the goddess of love, laughed at all of the guests, as January had become one of her knights: when tender youth has wedded stooping age, the narrator continues, there is such mirth that it cannot be written.At the end of the feast, the men cast spices around the wedding house, and everyone was full of joy –except for Damian, the knight’s squire, who was so in love with the lady May that he was almost mad. The men rode home, and said their farewells and thanks to January, who then decided he would go to bed. He drank strong spiced and sweetened wines, and many a medical mixture, before taking his fresh wife in his arms, rocking her and kissing her often, his bristly beard scratching her tender skin. January made an apology for the offense he was about to do her, but reminding her that legally, he could do whatever he liked to her body. The two then had sex until the day began to dawn, at which point January awoke, drank some bread in wine, and sang loudly, sitting upright in his bed. Quite what May thought of all this, only God knows, the narrator comments – though she thought his sexual exploits absolutely useless.However, Damian, had written a love letter to May that he pinned in a silk purse next to his heart. One day, Damian was not attending January, and to cover for him the other squires told January that Damian was sick. May and January sat at dinner, and January decided to send May to visit Damian, to tell him that January would soon visit soon, after he had rested. May went straight to Damian, and, secretly, Damian slipped his letter into her hand: knowing that she could not afford to have it discovered, May hid the letter in her bosom. Reading it later, she tore it up and cast it in the toilet so as not to have it discovered.May had already decided to return Damian’s advances, and replied to his letter telling as much –taking her letter to his bedroom, putting it under his pillow and giving him a secret handshake. Damian awoke the next morning, his sickness all vanished, and returned to serve January humbly. January's house had a garden so magnificent, the narrator now continues, that even he who wrote Romance of the Rose could not describe its beauty, nor could Priapus accurately describe its art. January loved this garden so much that only he possessed the key to it. In the summer he would go there with May and have sex. January had also, in this time, become blind and became increasingly possessive of his wife, which caused Damian great grief – and May too wept very often, for January was always in her company. However, May and Damian kept in touch via letter, and by various secret signs.May imprinted January’s key to the garden in warm wax, and Damian made a secret copy of the key.
The eighth of June came round, and January decided, thanks to the incitement of his wife, to go and have sex in his beautiful garden. He sang a beautiful song to awake his wife and tempt her to the garden, and eventually, January, blind as a stone, and May, unlocked the gate and stepped into the garden.Damian had already entered the garden, as May had made signs to him to do so, and now she signaled to him to climb up a nearby tree, full of fruit. At this point, the narrator makes an unusual departure from the supposed realism of January’s story to narrate the descent of Pluto and Proserpina into the garden, who have a long argument about marriage, citing various classical sources. Pluto, feeling pity for January, wants to restore January’s sight so that he can see the villainy about to be done behind his back; Prosperina rejects his argument, telling him that the classical sources which proclaim the evil of women missed out the evil performed by men. Proserpina wants May to have sex with Damian; Pluto wants to restore his sight to prevent it - and Proserpina forcibly ends the argument.
Damian sat high in the pear tree, and May told her husband she longed to pick and eat one of the pears. January bent over so that May could stand on his back to climb the tree - she grabbed a branch, and climbed up into the tree with Damian, who pulled up her dress and began to have sex with her. But, when Pluto saw this, he restored January’s sight – and January, seeing his cuckoldry, let out a huge roar and asked his wife what she was doing.Without missing a beat, May responds that she had been told that the best way to restore January’s eyesight was to “struggle” with a man in a tree; January responds that she was not struggling, but having full penetrative sex. In that case, May continues, her medicine is false – January clearly isn’t seeing clearly, she argues. And when January asserts that he can see perfectly, May rejoices that she has restored her sight, and persuades January that he did not see her having sex with Damian. January is delighted, kisses her and hugs her, and strokes her on her stomach, leading her home to this house.
Epilogue to the Merchant’s Tale
“Goddes mercy!” said the Host, praying God to keep him from such a wife, and noting that clever wives easily deceive foolish men by ducking away from the truth. “I have a wyf”, the Host continues, who, though she is poor, is a shrew, always blabbing – and she has several other vices too! The Host then cuts himself off again from discussing his wife, as he worries that someone in the company will report his doing so back to his wife. He is, he claims, clever enough not to reveal everything, and therefore his tale is done.
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