ACT II
Time: April 19th. The afternoon.
Scene: Garden of the One Nine-pin inn at the little hamlet of Bob-up-and-down, en route to Canterbury.Right, the inn, with door opening into garden. Back, a wall about chin-high in which is a wicket gate. The wall is newly greened over with honeysuckle and rose-vines, which are just beginning to blossom. Left, an arbour of the same. Right front, a rough table and chair. Behind the garden wall runs the highway, beyond which stretches a quiet rolling landscape, dotted with English elms and hedgerows.When the curtain rises, the scene is empty. There is no sound except the singing of birds, and the hum of a loom inside the inn. Then, away to the left, is heard a bagpipe playing. It draws nearer. Behind the wall, then, against the green background of Spring, pass, in pageant, theCanterbury Pilgrimson horseback. Among the last, astride her ambler, rides theWife of Bath,telling her tale, in the group withChaucerand thePrioress.Behind her follow the Swains, theMillerplaying the bagpipe. Last rides theReeve.Behind the scene, they are heard to stop at the inn and call for hostlers. The bustle of arrival, horses led across a stone court, laughter and abuse,—these sounds are sufficientlyremote to add to the reigning sense of pleasant quietness in the garden. Through the door of the inn entersChaucer,alone; in his hand, some parchments. He enters with an abandon of glad-heartedness, half reading from his parchments.
Scene: Garden of the One Nine-pin inn at the little hamlet of Bob-up-and-down, en route to Canterbury.
Right, the inn, with door opening into garden. Back, a wall about chin-high in which is a wicket gate. The wall is newly greened over with honeysuckle and rose-vines, which are just beginning to blossom. Left, an arbour of the same. Right front, a rough table and chair. Behind the garden wall runs the highway, beyond which stretches a quiet rolling landscape, dotted with English elms and hedgerows.
When the curtain rises, the scene is empty. There is no sound except the singing of birds, and the hum of a loom inside the inn. Then, away to the left, is heard a bagpipe playing. It draws nearer. Behind the wall, then, against the green background of Spring, pass, in pageant, theCanterbury Pilgrimson horseback. Among the last, astride her ambler, rides theWife of Bath,telling her tale, in the group withChaucerand thePrioress.Behind her follow the Swains, theMillerplaying the bagpipe. Last rides theReeve.
Behind the scene, they are heard to stop at the inn and call for hostlers. The bustle of arrival, horses led across a stone court, laughter and abuse,—these sounds are sufficientlyremote to add to the reigning sense of pleasant quietness in the garden. Through the door of the inn entersChaucer,alone; in his hand, some parchments. He enters with an abandon of glad-heartedness, half reading from his parchments.
CHAUCER
“When that April with his sunny showers
Hath from the drought of March the dreamy powers
Awaked, and steeped the world in such sweet wine
As doth engender blossoms of the vine;
When merry Zephirus, with his soft breath,
In every hedge and heath inspireth
The tender greening shoots, and the young Sun
Hath half his course within the Ram y-run,
And little birds all day make melody
That, all night long, sleep with an open ee,
(So Nature stirs ’em with delicious rages)
Then folk they long to go on pilgrimages—”
SQUIRE
[Comes from the inn.]
Dan Chaucer! Master Chaucer!
CHAUCER
Signorino!
SQUIRE
Sir, what a ride! Was ever such a ride
As ours from London? Hillsides newly greened,
Brooks splashing silver in the small, sweet grass,
Pelt gusts of rain dark’ning the hills, and then
Wide swallowed up in sunshine! And to feel
My snorting jennet stamp the oozy turf
Under my stirrup, whilst from overhead
Sonnets shook down from every bough. Oh, sir,
Rode Cæsar such a triumph from his wars
When Rome’s high walls were garlanded with girls?
CHAUCER
Boy, let me hug thee!
SQUIRE
Noble sir!
CHAUCER
[Embracing him.]
A hug!
Spring makes us youths together. On such a day
Old age is fuddled and time’s weights run down.
Hark!
[A cuckoo sounds; they listen.]
The meadow is the cuckoo’s clock, and strikes
The hour at every minute; larks run up
And ring its golden chimes against the sun.
SQUIRE
Sir, only lovers count the time in heaven.
Are you in love, too?
CHAUCER
Over head and heart.
SQUIRE
Since long?
CHAUCER
These forty years.
SQUIRE
Nay, is your mistress
So old?
CHAUCER
She’s still kind.
SQUIRE
Kind, yet old! Nay, what’s
Her name?
CHAUCER
Hush, she will hear thee.
SQUIRE
Hear me?
CHAUCER
[Mysteriously.]
Hush!
Mine own true mistress is sweet Out-of-doors.
No Whitsun lassie wears so green a kirtle,
Nor sings so clear, nor smiles with such blue eyes,
As bonny April, winking tears away.
Not flowers o’ silk upon an empress’ sleeve
Can match the broidery of an English field.
No lap of amorous lady in the land
Welcomes her gallant, as sweet Mistress Earth
Her lover. Let Eneas have his Dido!
Daffydowndilly is the dame for me.
PRIORESS
[Within.]
Joannes!
SQUIRE
You are happy, sir, to have
Your mistress always by you. Mine’s afar
Turning the Italian roses pale with envy.
CHAUCER
She dwells in Italy?
SQUIRE
In Padua.
CHAUCER
In Padua? Why, there I knew Dan Petrarch,
Whose sonnets make the world love-sick for Laura.
SQUIRE
Would I could make it sigh once for my lady!
Sir, will you help me?
CHAUCER
Gladly; what’s her name?
SQUIRE
Alas! Her name is not poetical:
Johanna! Who can sonnetize Johanna?
CHAUCER
Invent her one to please you.
SQUIRE
Euphranasia—
How like you Euphranasia, sir?
FRIAR
[Aside, popping his head from behind the wall.]
Qui la?
[Dodges down again.]
PRIORESS
[Within, singing.]
Laudate, pueri, Dominum; laudate nomen Domini!
Nay, Paulus, Iwillsing: ’tis pretty weather.
SQUIRE
Euridice or Helena?
PRIORESS
[Sings within.]
A solis ortu usque ad occasum, laudabile nomen Domini.
SQUIRE
Or, Thisbe?
CHAUCER
[Lifting a sprig of honeysuckle on the wall.]
Nay, boy, this spray shall name her.
[The Friar peeps over the wall again.]
SQUIRE
Eglantine!
Music itself! Methinks I have an aunt
Named Eglantine. What matter?—Eglantine!
CHAUCER
I’ll match that name against the Muses nine.
[Takes out his parchments.]
SQUIRE
What! verses?
CHAUCER
Scraps of prologue to a book
I think to call “The Canterbury Tales.”
Good boy, leave me a bit; I have the fit
To rhyme for a time thy Donna Eglantine.
Come back at chapel-bell, or send someone
To fetch the verses.
SQUIRE
Sir, I will.
[Exit left.]
FRIAR
Me voila!
[Exit right, behind wall.]
CHAUCER
[Reading from one of his parchments, crosses over by thearbour.]
“There was also a nun, a prioress,
That of her smiling was full simple and coy;
The greatest oath she swore was ‘by St. Loy!’
And she was clepèd Madame Eglantine;
Full daintly she sang the psalms divine;
And French she spake (St. Patrick taught her how),
After the school of Stratford-at-the-Bowe.
Full prettily her wimple pinchèd was,
Her nose piquante; her eyes as grey as glass;
Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;
In very sooth she had a fair forehead;
And dangling from her dainty wristlet small,
A brooch of gold she wore, and therewithal
Upon it there was writ a crownèd A,
And after—
[Enter, right, the Prioress, carrying her little hound. Chaucersees her.]
Amor vincit omnia.”
[He enters the arbour.]
PRIORESS
Joannes, stay indoors and tell your beads.
[To her little hound.]
Jacquette, ma petite, it is a pretty day.
See you those clouds? They are St. Agnes’ sheep;
She hath washed their wool all white and turned ’em loose
To play on heaven’s warm hillside. Smell that rose?
Sweet-sweet! n’est ce pas, ma petite? Hast ever heard
The Romance of the Rose?
CHAUCER
[Aside.]
Saints!
PRIORESS
’Tis a tale
As lovely as the flower,—writ all in verses
Dan Chaucer made at court. Hush, hush, don’t tell:
I’ve read it. Ah! Jacquette! Jacquette! Jacquette!
When Mary was a girl in Joseph’s garden,
Were there such pretty days in Palestine?
[Picks a rose.]
CHAUCER
Gods! must I hand her over—to a brother!
Alas! the sands of dreams, how fast they slip
Till Geoffrey lose his Lord-protectorship.
PRIORESS
[Plucking the rose’s petals till the last petal falls.]
Pater noster (our Father), qui es in cœlis (which art
in heaven), sanctificetur nomen tuum (hallowed be thy
name). Adveniat regnum tuum (thy kingdom come);
fiat voluntas tua—thy will be done!
CHAUCER
Amen! I must resign!
[He is about to step out from the arbour and discover himself,but pauses as the Prioress continues.]
PRIORESS
Alas! We must go seek my brother and so
Quit the protection of this noble stranger.
You know, Jacquette, we must be fond of him.
He saved your life—we mustn’t forget that.
And though the wastel-bread was underdone,
He was most kind at table, and inquired
After your health, petite. And though he kissed
The ale-wife—oui, ma pauvre Jacquette!—yet he
Is contrite, and will seek St. Thomas’ shrine
For absolution.
CHAUCER
Forgive us our trespasses!
PRIORESS
He was so courteous, too, upon the road
I’m sure he is a gentleman. Indeed,
I hope my brother proves as true a knight,
When he arrives.
CHAUCER
Deliver us from temptation!
[A shout from the pilgrims within.]
PRIORESS
Would he were here now.—Nay, I mean—the other.
This April day flowed sweet as a clear brook
Till these hoarse frogs jumped in to rile its silver.
SWAINS
[Sing, within.]
The Wife of Bath
She’s a good fellow,
A maiden mellow
Of Aftermath.
PRIORESS
Vite, vite, ma petite.
[She hastens to the arbour, where Chaucer quickly pretends to be absorbed in writing. As she is withdrawing hastily, however, he turns round.]
[She hastens to the arbour, where Chaucer quickly pretends to be absorbed in writing. As she is withdrawing hastily, however, he turns round.]
Monsieur, excusez moi!
CHAUCER
Madame, the fault is mine; I crave your pardon.
PRIORESS
What fault, Monsieur?
CHAUCER
[Breaks a spray from the arbour and hands it to her.]
I trespass inyourbower.
Permettez.
PRIORESS
Honeysuckle?
CHAUCER
So ’tis called;
But poets, lady, name it—eglantine.
PRIORESS
M’sieur!
CHAUCER
May I remain and call it so?
PRIORESS
M’sieur—this is Jacquette, my little hound.
[Chaucer takes the pup; they retire farther into the arbour, as theWife of Bathenters from the inn. She is accompanied by theFriar,Miller,Cook,Summoner,Pardoner,Manciple,andShipman,who enter singing. They lift her upon the table, and form a circle round her.]
[Chaucer takes the pup; they retire farther into the arbour, as theWife of Bathenters from the inn. She is accompanied by theFriar,Miller,Cook,Summoner,Pardoner,Manciple,andShipman,who enter singing. They lift her upon the table, and form a circle round her.]
SWAINS
The Wife of Bath
She’s a good fellow,
A maiden mellow
Of Aftermath.
She cuts a swath
Through sere-and-yellow;
No weeping willow
Bestrews her path.
Her voice in wrath
Is a bullock’s bellow;
For every good fellow