JOHANNA
[To herself.]
They whispered here: and there she said “Dear Aubrey.”
ALISOUN
And their disguises; oh, you’d not believe it!
That devil friar plays the chimney-sweep.
And—
JOHANNA
Chimney-sweep! ’Twas he, then, sung? Oh, come;
Help!
ALISOUN
Where?
JOHANNA
They’re in the cellar.
ALISOUN
Like enough;
They’re plotting, plotting. God’s wounds! ’Tis a trap.
Where be they all? Geoffrey to send me here—
My son to leave you with the friar—Ha!
They’re with that sly, deceptive Prioress;
’Tis she—
JOHANNA
Why, she’s your sister.
ALISOUN
[As if taken back.]
What—my sister!
Isshethe Prioress?SheEglantine?
JOHANNA
Yes, yes; and she, too, left upon a pretext.
Sir Roderigo, say, what shall we do?
ALISOUN
My sister—and my son!
JOHANNA
[Calls.]
Aubrey!—no answer?
Aubrey!
ALISOUN
My son and sister!
JOHANNA
Oh, poor soldier!
ALISOUN
Oh, monstrous brood, hatched in a vampire’s nest!
But I will be revenged. Go to your room;
Lock fast the door; but when I call, “A brooch,
A brooch!” come forth and raise the house.
JOHANNA
Why “brooch”?
ALISOUN
A watchword. Quick; go! I hear footsteps. Go!
[Urges her toward door, right back.]
Blunt is the word; your presence dangers me—
Your room. No, no, I fear not.
JOHANNA
Poor Sir Roderick!
[Exit; Alisoun shuts door; voices outside, left.]
ALISOUN
A miss is as good’s a mile.
REEVE
[Outside.]
Where went your knight?
[Enter Reeve, Doctor, and Chaucer.]
CHAUCER
To chapel.
REEVE
Na, na, na; I saw him not.
CHAUCER
[To Doctor.]
Nor you?
DOCTOR
A knight, say you, from the Holy Land?
CHAUCER
Yes, a crusader.
DOCTOR
[Points at Alisoun.]
Is that he?
CHAUCER
Ah, thank you;
[Starts forward, but sees he is mistaken.]
Nay, ’tis another man.
DOCTOR
Good even, sir.
REEVE
[To Doctor.]
’Twas the first time I heard the devil preach
In chapel.
DOCTOR
Wycliffe?
REEVE
[Nods.]
Curse him and his Lollards!
[Exeunt, right front.]
CHAUCER
[Follows them to door, and calls.]
Aubrey!
ALISOUN
[Claps her hands.]
Host!
CHAUCER
Signorino!
ALISOUN
Host here!
[Enter from cellar the Miller and Bottlejohn. As the door is closing, the chink is filled with the faces of the Swains, threatening Bottlejohn.]
[Enter from cellar the Miller and Bottlejohn. As the door is closing, the chink is filled with the faces of the Swains, threatening Bottlejohn.]
MILLER
[His dagger drawn, aside to Bottlejohn.]
Mum!
Quick! Be thy ribs good whetstones?
BOTTLEJOHN
[Ducking to Alisoun.]
Here, sweet lording.
ALISOUN
Thou’rt slow.
MILLER
[Aside.]
Ribs!
BOTTLEJOHN
Slow, sweet lording.
ALISOUN
Tell me, host,
Hast thou residing in this hostelry
A gentle prioress?
CHAUCER
[Aside.]
What?
MILLER
[Aside to Bottlejohn, sharpening his dagger on an ale mug.]
Whetstones!
BOTTLEJOHN
Aye,
Sweet lording.
ALISOUN
Good; go tell her that her brother
Awaits her here.
CHAUCER
[Aside.]
Her brother!
[Draws nearer.]
HOST
Aye, sweet lording.
[Starts for door, right back, Miller following.]
ALISOUN
Her brother, say—Dan Roderigo.
BOTTLEJOHN
Aye,
Sweet lording.
MILLER
Host, hast thou a whetstone in
Thy pocket?
BOTTLEJOHN
Aye, sweet lording.
MILLER
[Winking at Alisoun.]
“Aye, sweet lording.”
[Exeunt Bottlejohn and Miller.][Alisoun ignores Chaucer’s presence.]
CHAUCER
[Approaching her.]
Your pardon, sir, I trespass. By your cross
You come—
ALISOUN
From Palestine. Well met. You, friend?
CHAUCER
Nay, I’m a door-mouse, sir; a doze-at-home.
My home’s near by at Greenwich. You have friends—
Friends at the inn?
ALISOUN
A friend, sir; a fair friend;
By Jupiter, a sweet friend.
CHAUCER
Ah!
ALISOUN
A sister.
She is a nun.
CHAUCER
Good God!
ALISOUN
A prioress.
CHAUCER
It cannot be!
ALISOUN
Signor!
CHAUCER
Her name? Her name?
ALISOUN
What’s that to you—her name?
CHAUCER
[Disconcerted.]
It may be—
ALISOUN
Ah!
Perhaps you know her—what? ’Tis Eglantine.
CHAUCER
Impossible!—Sir, pardon me; I must
Have made some strange mistake.
ALISOUN
Nay, friend; I guess
’Tis I have made the blunder.
CHAUCER
You, sir?
ALISOUN
Sooth,
I might as well stick both feet in the mire
And wade across my blushes. We old lads
With beards, who sees our blushes, what? So, then,
This prioress, she is not just my sister.
CHAUCER
No?
ALISOUN
No.
CHAUCER
What then?
ALISOUN
Vous savez bien, these nuns,
When they would have a friend, they clepe him “brother.”
Especially on holy pilgrimage
It hath a proper sound: “Mybrothermeets me;
Mybrotheris a knight.” You cannot blame ’em;
’Tis more discreet; we men must humour ’em.
Therefore this little honeysuckle nun
Doth take delight to call mebrother.
CHAUCER
Liar!
[As Chaucer lifts his hand about to strike Alisoun, she raises hers to guard; seizing it, he beholds her ring.]
[As Chaucer lifts his hand about to strike Alisoun, she raises hers to guard; seizing it, he beholds her ring.]
What!—“Amor vincit omnia.”—Even her!
ALISOUN
Take back your lie!
CHAUCER
That ring—tell me—that ring!
ALISOUN
St. Madrian! It is my love-ring. She,
My sweet nun, gave it me. She wears a brooch
To match it, on her wrist.
[Enter, right, Bottlejohn and Miller.]
BOTTLEJOHN
The Prioress,
Sweet lording.
[Enter the Prioress.]
PRIORESS
Brother! Welcome, brother!
CHAUCER
No!
God! God! I’ll not believe it. Aubrey! Aubrey!
[Exit, left.]
ALISOUN
My pretty virgin sister!
PRIORESS
[Gives her hand, reticently.]
Roderigo!
[Looking after Chaucer.]
He need not, sure, have gone.
ALISOUN
Put up thy chin,
My snow-white dove. Aha, but thou art grown!
The silver slip o’ girlhood that I kissed
Good-by when I set out for Palestine
Hath mellowed into golden womanhood.
Give me thy lips.
PRIORESS
Nay, brother, nay; my vows!
I may not kiss a man.
ALISOUN
Toot! never fear, then;
Thou shalt not break thy vows againstmybeard.
What, I’m thy brother; come!
PRIORESS
Adieu, mon frère.
ALISOUN
Soft, soft, my startled fawn. You need not jump
Because your brother is a true crusader.
Or didst thou fancy I was cut in stone,
With my cold gauntlets crossed above my breast,
Like a dumb, marble knight upon a tomb?
Art not thou glad to see me, sister?
PRIORESS
Yes,
Mon frère. Forgive me, I had thought—You see,
My nephew—’tis a pretty mannered youth;
You’re not alike, are you?
ALISOUN
[Laughing.]
By Peter’s toe,
I hope not. Saints deliver me from being
A new-hatched chicken’s feather.
PRIORESS
What! your son?
ALISOUN
Next, thou’ll be wishing I were like that fellow
That fetched me here—yon what’s-his-name, yon Geoffrey.
PRIORESS
Why, ’tis a noble gentleman.
[Enter, from cellar door, Summoner, Shipman, Cook, Friar,and Manciple; they look on.]
ALISOUN
Hoho!
Your noble gentleman! Why, harkee, sweet;
He told me he’s betrothèd to an ale-wife.
PRIORESS
He told you—when?
ALISOUN
Just now, coming from chapel.
PRIORESS
Her name?
ALISOUN
[Ruminating, winks at the Swains.]
What was her name, now?—Alisoun,
The Wife of Bath, they call her.
PRIORESS
O gran Dieu!
Thatperson!
ALISOUN
Person! God wot, ’twas not so
Your Geoffrey called her. “Alisoun,” quoth he;
“My lily Alisoun, my fresh wild-rose,
My cowslip in the slough of womankind,