Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 73
LXXIII
This tells how Dido, mighty Queen
Of Carthage, racked with sorrow keen
For that great love she suffered through
Æneas, with a sword-thrust slew13890
Herself, and how fair Phillis won
A cruel death through Demophon.
Dido great queen of Carthage, strove
Vainly to keep Æneas’ love,
Who owed to her whate’er he had,
For she received him when the sad
City of Troy in flames he fled,
And reached her shores to misery wed.
His comrades dealt she no small share
Of honour, for the love she bare13890
To him, and hade his ships refit,
With many a storm, bulged, torn, and split;
And in her passion vowed that he
Lord of her realm and self should be;
In, turn, great oaths Æneas swore
His heart was hers for evermore,
And soul and body would he give
Io her, and in her love would live.
Tragedy of Dido
Alas! small joy her kindness sped;
Ere long, the faithless lover fled13900
O’er the bright sea without one word
To her, who died whenso she heard
His treachery, for she straight withdrew
Into her chamber, and pierced through
Her loving heart with selfsame sword
He erst had borne, her love and lord.
Unhappy Dido, who in mind
Still kept her traitorous love unkind,
Seized the bright blade, and as she stood
Naked, the point with hardihood13910
Thrust ’neath her breasts, twin hills of snow,
And fell thereon to end her woe.
O grievous sight, O sad to see!
Full hard of heart that man must be,
Who could behold, with heart unmoved,
How thus her constancy was proved
Towards the treacherous man through whom
Her joyous life met death’s grim doom.
Legend of fair women
And Phillis fair, who did await
Her Demophon, disconsolate,13920
And, for he came not, with a cord
Sought death, since false she proved his word.
Of Paris and Œnone hear—
She, body and soul, forgetting fear,
Gave up to him; with what return?
Alas! her love he did but spurn.
Small letters on the trees he cut
To tell her of his flitting; but
Her love reflected not his heart;
He less esteemed it than a tart.13930
These letters were right skilfully
Engraven on a poplar tree.
And said, till Xanthus sought again
His source, he faithful would remain;
Alas! though that did ne’er occur,
For Helen he deserted her.
Was not Medea, beauteous maid,
By Jason treacherously betrayed,
Who perjured him, though she, to save
His life, both home and honour gave,13940
When the fierce bulls with breath of fire
Would work on him destruction dire?
She braved the flames with subtle charms,
Subdued the beasts and saved from harms
Her lover; then the dragon dread
Her song soothed till he slumbered,
Nor from that sleep awaked he more
Till Jason gained the golden store.
And when earth’s warriors, wild and fierce,
Would fain his heart with swordpoint pierce,
Her sorcery and magic skill13951
Did so that host with madness fill
That, when amid them Jason threw
A stone, no man his fellow knew
But all in desperate combat fought
Till each from each his death-blow bought,
And so the Golden Fleece she wan
For that well-loved, but false-heart man.
That comfort he might have, forsooth,
His father Æson unto youth13960
Restored she, and the sole reward
She asked him was, that he would toward
Her love return his love again.
Alas! fond hope! misplaced and vain.
His false heart soon forgot the good
She wrought, in loving hardihood.
And in the ending set above
Her head a new and younger love.
Medea’s revenge
Hearing hereof she could not brook
Her wretchedness, but madly took13970
Her children, (in her sore distress
Blind to a mother’s tenderness,)
And strangled them, more ruthless she
Than stepdames oft have proved to be.
A thousand more such tales could I
Relate, but time too swift doth fly.
These ribalds all play double parts,
And to a thousand give their hearts,
And wherefore should not women do
The same, and love as freely too?13980
She’s but a fool, who fixes on
One man, and clings to him alone,
A woman should have hosts of friends,
And play them all, to serve her ends,
’Gainst one another. If no grace
She hath, ’tis well she set her face
To gain it, and should be most high
And haughty unto those who try
To please her best, and towards those be
Most kind, who treat her distantly.13990
A woman’s arts
Fair sports and songs ’tis hers to know.
And strife and reprimands forego.
If she be plain, by dainty dress.
Should she repair ill-favouredness;
And should it hap, to her dismay.
Her thick blond tresses fall away,
Or even though they have not dropped
By nature, they have needs been cropped
By reason of some malady,
And thus her beauty wasted be;14000
Or if some ribald, anger led,
Hath torn the hair from off her head,
With rage so cruel as to leave
No locks she can in braidings weave;
Then, with a view to clothe her pate,
Hair must she get of one who late
Hath died, or yellow silk must tie
Beneath neat fillets skilfully.
Above her ears she’ll bear such horns
As neither stags or unicorns14010
Could boast if they should dare to plight
Themselves with her in deadly fight.
Or if she have the need to dye
Her hair, she should most carefully
Choose the right plants; leaves, bark, and root,
Will each the varied purpose suit.
Beauty’s devices
And lest her bloom of cheek grow pale,
Whereat her spirit well might fail,
She should within her chamber keep
Sweet unguents, that she thence may reap14020
A secret freshness; yet have care
They are not known by sight or flair
To lovers, or ’twould breed despite.
If she hath neck and bosom white,
Then let her cut her bodice low,
Her fair and dazzling skin to show,
Two palms behind and eke before,
There’s no device attracts men more.
If she hath shoulders set too high
Judges of form to satisfy14030
At balls and routs, fine lawn I guess
Would lessen their unseemliness.
If hands she hath nor fine nor fair,
But corned and blistered here and there,
’Twere well, that with a bodkin she
Should dress and tend them carefully,
Or better still, with gloves should hide
Defects—no man need pry inside.
And if her breasts too ample grow,
A swathe-cloth should she bind below14040
To bear them up, and hold them tight
Against her chest. When thus she’s dight
She’ll find that she can move with ease,
And lightly dance, if so she please.
To hide defects
And, if a dainty, well-bred quean,
Her Venus chamber keeps she clean;
No spider webs will there be found,
And things unseemly from the ground
She’ll sweep, dust, burn, and clear away,
E’en as a thrifty housewife may.14050
Is her leg ugly? ne’er ’tis bare.
Too large her foot? ’tis shod with care.
More wily she than e’er neglect
To hide with skill the least defect.
If she be cursed with noisome breath,
It doth not worry her to death,
But heed she taketh not to speak
To any till her fast she break,
And careful is her mouth ne’er goes
Too closely towards her lover’s nose.14060
When laughter doth provoke her, so
She laughs that two sweet dimples show
About her mouth, on either side,
The which she never opes right wide
In laughing, but conceals beneath
A well-set smile, her doubtful teeth.
A woman if she laugh or smile
Should keep her mouth close shut the while,
For if too wide she open it
It looks as though her checks were slit;14070
And if her teeth are nothing grand,
But crossed and out of order stand,
’Tis just as well that they remain
Fast hid, would she not win disdain.
Of women’s tears
Women should learn to cry with grace,
But they so oft find time and place
For tears, I need not teach them how
To weep, that soon enough they trow,
For every woman in her eye
Stores tears, and one and all can cry14080
At will. A man should not disturb
Himself thereat, but check and curb
His pity, even though he sees
The tears fall fast as rain from trees.
When women cry at will, ’tis not
That they some cruel grief have got,
But mere vexation and chagrin
That some vile trick they’re baffled in.
A woman’s tears are but a trap,
Oft-times they flow for no ill hap,14090
But with desire that she may nought
By word or deed betray her thought.
She should behave her when at table
In manner fit and convenable;
But should, ere yet she takes her place,
’Fore all the household show her face,
To let those present understand
That she much business hath in hand.
Hither and thither should she flit
And be the last of all to sit,14100
Making the company await
While scanneth she each dish and plate;
And when at last down sitteth she,
On each and all her eye should be.
Before the guests should she divide
The bread and see each one supplied.
Then let her know the heart to win
Of some one guest by putting in
His platter dainty morsels, or
A wing or leg of fowl before14110
Him sets she, or with choicest slice
Of pork or beef will she entice
His appetite, or savoury fish,
If of the day that be the dish.
No stint she makes, if he permits,
To ply his taste with choicest bits.
Manners at table
’Tis well she take especial care
That in the sauce her fingers ne’er
She dip beyond the joint, nor soil
Her lips with garlick, sops, or oil,14120
Nor heap up gobbets and then charge
Her mouth with pieces overlarge,
And only with the finger point
Should touch the bit she’d fain anoint
With sauce, white, yellow, brown, or green,
And lift it towards her mouth between
Finger and thumb with care and skill,
That she no sauce or morsel spill
About her breast-cloth.
Then her cup
She should so gracefully lift up14130
Towards her mouth that not a gout
By any chance doth fall about
Her vesture, or for glutton rude.
By such unseemly habitude,
Might she be deemed.
Nor should she set
Lips to her cup while food is yet
Within her mouth.
And first should she
Her upper lip wipe delicately,
Lest, having drunk, a grease-formed groat
Were seen upon the wine to float.14140
Drink moderately
She should not take one long-breathed draught,
Whether from cup or hanap quaffed,
But gently taste with sipping soft
Now and again, but not too oft,
Though thirst impels, at large should drink,
Lest those around perchance should think
Or say, if she the cup should clutch
With eager haste: She drinks too much;
Therefore should she the tempting tide
Resist, nor grip the goblet’s side14150
Like some of that fat matron crew,
So gluttonous and boorish, who
Pour wine adown their cavernous throats
Enough to fill a horseman’s boots,
Till lastly are their gullets full,
And all their senses drowned and dull.
She should avoid all such excess
As leadeth on to drunkenness,
For drunken folk no secrets keep,
And if a woman drinketh deep14160
She leaves herself without defence,
And jangles much with little sense.
To any man she falls a prey
When thus her wits she casts away.
She should not at the table close
Her eyes in sleep, nor even doze,
For many a strange untoward thing
Hath happed to dames thus slumbering;
Such places are not made for sleep,
’Tis wiser far good watch to keep,14170
For often folk mishaps have known
Thus sleeping: many have tumbled down
Supine, or prone, or on the side,
And grievous hurt sustained, or died:
She should, who feels disposed to wink,
Of Palinurus’ ending think,
Who governed well Æneas’ helm
Until he fell within the realm
Of Morpheus, then straight toppled he
From off the ship, and in the sea14180
Was drowned before his comrades’ eyes,
Who mourned his watery obsequies.
Time goes quickly
Woman should gather roses ere
Time’s ceaseless foot o’ertaketh her,
For if too long she make delay,
Her chance of love may pass away,
And well it is she seek it while
Health, strength, and youth around her smile.
To pluck the fruits of love in youth
Is each wise woman’s rule forsooth,14190
For when age creepeth o’er us, hence
Go also the sweet joys of sense,
And ill doth she her days employ
Who lets life pass without love’s joy.
And if my counsel she despise,
Not knowing how ’tis just and wise,
Too late, alas! will she repent
When age is come, and beauty spent.
But witful women will believe
My words, and thankfully receive14200
My counsels and my rules will foster
With care, and many a paternoster
Say for my soul’s health when I die
For teaching them so worthily.
Well know I that these golden rules
Shall long be taught in noblest schools.
Makes known love’s precepts
Fair son, if long you see earth’s light,
Most clearly I perceive you’ll write
My laws and precepts in a book,
And many a time therein will look,14210
Please God, when hence from me you’re gone
And, duly pondering thereupon,
In knowledge shall outrival me,
And, e’en as I, a teacher be,
Despite the highest chancellors,
In halls, in chambers and boudoirs,
In copse, and garden-close and field
Or nooks by friendly curtains sealed.
And let your scholars learn my lore,
In wardrobe-room and threshing-floor,14220
In stables or out-offices,
Failing of better spots than these,
And there my precepts should be read,
When you their force have mastered.
Abroad a woman oft should go,
For all the less that she doth show
Herself, the fewer men will press
Around to seek her loveliness,
And sooner she’ll be left in lurch,
’Twere well she haunt the minster church,14230
And visitations oft attend,
And marriages, and duly wend
In high processions; fêtes and plays
Should she frequent on holidays,
For in such places, rathe and late,
Venus and Cupid celebrate
Woman’s attire
High mass. But erst should she in glass,
Upon her tiring, judgment pass,
And when she deems it quite the thing
Should sally forth philandering,14240
With dignified and high regard,
Not over meek, nor yet too hard,
Pleasant of look, with modest eye,
Nor over-forward, nor too shy.
Her shoulders and her hips should move
So gracefully that all approve
Her progress as of beauty’s queen.
Upon her well-shaped feet I ween.
Most carefully-made boots she’ll set.
Whereof the joints so well are met,14250
That, not a plait or crease will show,
But on her legs they’d seem to grow;
And if her costly garment trail
Along the road, she will not fail
Both fore and aft with studied care
To raise it, as she’d catch the air,
Or, as she knows right well to do,
She just uplifts her gown a few
Short inches, quicker pace to suit,
Disclosing thus her winsome foot,14260
With hope that all the passers by
Its mignon form and turn may spy.
Woman’s attire
In case she doth a mantle wear,
She should upon her shoulders bear
It so, that it but little hides
The contour of her shapely sides.
And also that she better may
Her body’s shape, and clothes, display,
(Which neither thick nor thin should be,
But pearled, and broidered gallantly14270
With silver, and an alms-purse tied,
In view of all, against her side,)
Her mantle upwards towards her head
Should she with straightened arms outspread,
Whether the way be foul or clean,
After the fashion she has seen
A peacock spread his tail; she may
So sport the mantle, whether grey
Or green it chance to be, that thus
She shows her figure amorous14280
To all the gallants that she meets
As sails she through the crowded streets.
Should Nature have forgot to trace
The line of beauty in her face,
Her golden locks she will, if wise,
Display to dazzle suitors’ eyes
In comely plaits about her neck.
Nothing doth women better deck
And crown, than glory of the hair.
Women should imitate with care14290
The tactics of the wolf; when she
A sheep would seize with certainty,
That she of one may make her sure
A hundred must her fangs endure.
A woman, likewise, should her net
So spread as many a man to get
Within her toils; but seen she nought
Can tell which ’tis that may be caught,
With view at very least to fix
One man, on all should play her tricks.14300
It scarce can happen otherwise,
But that among the fools she tries
By thousands, she must find some one
To do all that she would have done.
Nay, many, for ’tis truly said
Art lends to nature potent aid.
A woman’s policy
And if she several hooketh in,
Who equally her grace would win,
Most carefully should she arrange
The meeting hours to interchange,14310
For if two happed to come together,
Good chance there were of stormy weather,
And danger is, they seeing through
Her scheme, she fail of both the two,
Shamed and abased, and what e’en worse
She’d count, lose hold on each one’s purse.
But not to any should she give
The chance to keep enough to live,
But unto such condition bring
Her lovers, that of everything14320
Stripped bare, they’d have no choice but die
In hunger, debt, and misery.
Of every penny let her reive them,
For ’tis her loss if aught she leave the
m.
From poor and needy men should she
Have special care to keep her free;
Ovid or Homer void of cash
Would not be worth a cat’s eyelash.
Beware of travellers
A traveller should she never give
Her heart to, for as he doth live14330
Now here, now there, e’en so will he
Affection shift as easily
As he his body doth. If wise
My counsel will she so far prize
As let no guest her fancy take,
But if, while sojourning, he make
Of jewels, gold, or gems fair offer,
Let her secure them, locked in coffer,
And then may she fulfil his pleasure,
Whether in haste or at her leisure.14840
Above all else should she beware
She set her love on that man ne’er
Who in his beauty taketh pride;
Such imbeciles the Gods deride
And scorn, for thus saith Ptolemy,
A master of all science he:
“Such man hath nought of love in him,
With selfish pride his heart’s abrim,
The love that he to one declares,
In turn he to another swears,14350
And many a woman treateth ill,
For all he meets he’ll spoil and pill:”
And many a damsel have I heard
Cry shame on such an one’s false word.
Should some loud promiser appear,
Whether a trickster or sincere,
And seek to gain her love with great
And solemn vows his life and fate
To link with hers,—so be it; but
Let her be wary not to put14360
Herself within his power, unless
He doth a well-filled purse possess.
And if love-letters one indite,
Let her weigh closely if he write
With false intention, or his mood
Of heart be honest, pure, and good;
Then let her forward a reply—
After a pause—coy, short, and shy;
Delay but brings a lover on,
Yet that were lightly overdone,14370
And when a lover’s suit is pressed,
’Tis wise that she awhile protest
Reluctance, not the whole refuse,
But coyly smirk and half excuse,
Now hold him off, now draw him near,
In balance kept ’twixt hope and fear.
A woman’s wiles
As he more vehement doth grow,
More hesitation should she show,
Seeing that she his heart doth hold
Tightly as in a serpent’s fold,14380
Resisting by all means she can,
Assured reluctance doth but fan
His flame, then by degrees her fear
Subsides, and she should soothe and cheer
His heart with many a tender word,
And so they come to sweet accord.
And then will she his heart beguile,
By God and all the saints the while
Swearing that only he at last
Hath all her scruples overpast,14390
And cries: “Fulfilled is now your hope,
But, by the faith I owe the Pope,
I yield to you for love alone,
Through presents had you never won
My virgin heart; the man lives not
Who e’er through gifts my love had got,
You only have full favour found
Of all the host that fluttered round.
Ah! wicked one, who knew to pitch
The note that might my soul bewitch.”14400
Lightly won lightly held
And then, the dotard to deceive,
Sweet clips and kisses should she give.
But, if she follows my advice,
She boldly will demand her price,
And is a fool unless she win
All that he hath outside his skin,
For she the best beloved will be
Who strips a man most ruthlessly.
The more that women make men pay,
The more, far more, beloved are they;14410
For that which lightly is obtained,
Is never looked upon when gained
Above the value of a straw,
A thing of nought, a mere gewgaw.
But if a worthless thing cost much,
That a man holds with hardfist clutch.
To fleece a gull may many aid:
Her valets, and her chambermaid,
Her sister, nurse, and many another,
And e’en with equal zest her mother14420
Will need anointing in the palms
To quiet conscientious qualms;
Robes, mantles, gloves, and such delights,
They’ll pounce upon like ravening kites.
When once the victim’s in their grip,
With utter ruthlessness they’ll strip
Their prey, till scarce doth he possess
A rag to hide his nakedness.
Jewels and gold he’ll give as though
Nuts were they off a hazel bough.14430
Assistant harpies
Soon comes the banquet to an end,
When many mouths assistance lend,
And then they cry aloud: “Good sir,
’Twere well you should your purse-strings stir
To give our lady something new
Of vesture; doth it trouble you
So little? By St. Giles, I know
One who for her would quickly show
His bounty, she through him, I ween,
Might drive her carriage like a queen!”14440
And to the damsel would they say:
“Wherefore then make you such delay
To ask more gifts? Why not more bold?
His love to you grows slack and cold.”
And she, though with their words content,
Should bid that they such speech forewent,
Vowing she hath no fault to find,
Unless ’tis that he’s overkind.
But if she note that he’s aware
That ruin in his face doth stare,14450
And soon must he to beggary fall
Since in her lap he’s cast his all,
She judges she may spare the task
More costly gifts from him to ask;
Yet should implore him as her friend
That to relieve her needs he’ll lend
His credit, and on given day
Swear that the whole will she repay.
But all return would be by me
Forbidden most unflinchingly.14460
She pleads poverty
Then if among her friends she find
A second suited to her mind
(For though she many a friend hath got
She keeps herself heart-whole I wot),
To him should she declare amain
That she her best gown hath been fain
To leave in pawn, alas, for her!
While daily to the usurer
Must she resort, whereat is she
Distressed and troubled grievously,14470
And nought need he expect increase
Of favour, but if he release
Her pledges. If ’neath folly’s curse
He lies, and bears a brimming purse,
He’ll dip his hand therein, or take
Some means to borrow for her sake
The sum she needs, which is in truth
No sum whate’er, since she forsooth
Hath got her best robes locked away
Secure from dust and light of day,14480
Yet impudently bids him look
On every perch, and search each nook
The victim plucked bare
If he to trust her word disdain,
And so she gets the gold amain.
For a last squeezing she demands
A silver girdle at his hands,
Or wimple fair, to deck her head,
And gold her follies to bestead.
If he, unable to supply
Such things, yet seeks to satisfy14490
Her cravings, by expressing sorrow
And bezants vows to bring to-morrow,
To all his promises should she
Her ears shut fast inexorably.
All men are naturally liars—
In dear days past vile flatterers
More oaths towards me have used to leaven
Their lies, than are there saints in heaven.
If no gold pieces he can spin,
At least can he some wine send in14500
On credit, or if not, he may
Take himself off, elsewhere to play.
Unless a woman’s void of sense,
Of shrinking fear she’ll make pretence,
Affect to tremble, shake and shiver,
And ’neath quick apprehensions quiver
When she receiveth furtively
Her friend, and let him plainly see
The dangers she for him doth dare,
Saying, were spouse and friends aware14510
Of that she doth, most surely they,
Surprising them, would make her pay
With life the fond affection she
Bears towards him, while alas! that he
If found there would beyond all doubt
Still living see her heart torn out:
And then he surely will remain
When once within her toils he’s ta’en.
’Tis well she should remember when
Her friend she may expect again;14520
And if there’s no one on the watch
Let her undo the window latch
(Although the door serves better far),
Swearing the while that lost they are,
And may account themselves as dead
Should they be thus discoverèd.
For neither buckler, club, nor glaive
For one short hour their lives could save,
Nor secret chambers guarantee
But what they should dismembered be.14530
Pretended jealousy
And then should she assume an air
Of anger mingled with despair.
And fall on him with great disdain,
Demanding why doth he remain
So long away—she doubteth not
The reason is that he hath got
Some other he prefers to her;
Younger perchance, and merrier,
To whom, forsooth, his time he gives,
While she, alas! neglected lives:14540
Ah! well may she with anguish burn
Who loves, but wins not love’s return.
And when he hears her thus complain
’Twill work like fire within his brain,
And forthwith will he deem that she
Loves him with mad intensity,
And is of him as jealous as
In olden days God Vulcan was
Of Venus, whom he found at play
With Mars, when Phœbus brought the day,14550
[Trapped in the brazen net he’d wrought.
On his own head contempt he brought
When thus he proved himself betrayed,
And openwise a cuckold made.