The Tale

tender of age; I pray you shapë for my marriáge All suddenly, for I will not abide: And I will fond to éspy, on my side, To whom I may be wedded hastily. But forasmuch as ye be more than I, Ye shallë rather such a thing espy Than I, and where me best were to ally. But one thing warn I you, my friendës dear, I will none old wife have in no mannére: She shall not passë sixteen year certáin. Old fish and youngë flesh would I have fain. Better,” quoth he, “a pike than a pickerel, And better than old beef is tender veal. I will no woman thirty year of age, It is but beanëstraw and great foráge. And eke these oldë widows (God it wot) They connë so much craft on Wadë’s boat, So muchë brookë harm when that them lest, That with them should I never live in rest. For sundry schoolës makë subtle clerkës; Woman of many schoolës half a clerk is. But certainly a young thing men may guy, Right as men may warm wax with handës ply. Wherefore I say you plainly in a clause, I will none old wife have, right for this cause. For if so were I haddë such mischance, That I in her could havë no pleasance, Then should I lead my life in avoutrie, And go straight to the devil when I die. Nor children should I none upon her getten: Yet were me lever houndës had me eaten Than that mine heritagë shouldë fall In strangë hands: and this I tell you all. I doubtë not I know the causë why Men shouldë wed: and farthermore know I There speaketh many a man of marriáge That knows no more of it than doth my page, For what causes a man should take a wife. If he ne may not livë chaste his life, Take him a wife with great devotión, Because of lawful procreatión Of children, to th’ honoúr of God above, And not only for paramour or love; And for they shouldë lechery eschew, And yield their debtë when that it is due: Or for that each of them should help the other In mischief, as a sister shall the brother, And live in chastity full holily. But, Sirës, by your leave, that am not I, For, God be thanked, I dare make avaunt, I feel my limbës stark and suffisant To do all that a man belongeth to: I wot myselfë best what I may do. Though I be hoar, I fare as doth a tree, That blossoms ere the fruit y-waxen be; The blossomy tree is neither dry nor dead; I feel me now here hoar but on my head. Mine heart and all my