TIME: The next day.
SCENE: Before the west front of Canterbury Cathedral,
gorgeously decorated with tapestries, hatchments, and cloth
of gold. Grouped nearby are temporary booths of venders,
gaily trimmed.
_Many pilgrims are assembled; others keep arriving from
different directions, talking, praying, and sight-seeing.
At the Cathedral door a Priest blesses, with a sprengel,
those who enter._
FIRST VENDER
Relics! Souvenirs!
SECOND VENDER
Blood of the blissful martyr!
A BLACK FRIAR
[_To Bailey, the Host._]
A guide, Sir Hosteler?
HOST
Be off!
SECOND VENDER
[_To the Guild-men._]
Ampulles?
WEAVER
What are they?
SECOND VENDER
Leaden bottles; look!
DYER
What’s in ’em?
SECOND VENDER
Drops from the holy well: St. Thomas’ well,
That turned four times to blood and once to milk;
Good for the humours, gout, and falling-sickness.
WEAVER
[_Buys some._]
Here.
SECOND VENDER
Eightpence.
[_The Guild-men buy, and arrange the leaden vials in their hats._]
FIRST VENDER
Vernicles! St. Peter’s keys!
CARPENTER
[_Examining a purchase._]
What’s written on this brooch, sir?
CLERK
“Caput Thomæ.”
PLOUGHMAN
[_Staring at a statue in a niche of the Cathedral._]
Is he alive?
FRANKLIN
Naw; he’s just petrified.
BLACK FRIAR
[_To Merchant._]
A guide, sir?
MERCHANT
No.
BLACK FRIAR
Show you the spot, sir, where
The four knights murdered Becket, in the year
Eleven hundred seventy, at dusk,
The twenty-ninth day of December--
A GREY FRIAR
Nay, sir,
I’ll show you the true statue of the Virgin
That talked to holy Thomas when he prayed.
BLACK FRIAR
St. George’s arm, sir! Come; I’ll let you kiss it.
GREY FRIAR
This way; the tomb of Edward the Black Prince.
[_Both seize Merchant and tug him._]
MERCHANT
[_Struggling._]
Mine host!
HOST
[_Coming up._]
Pack off!
PARSON
[_To Ploughman._]
What May-day queen comes here?
[_Outside, left, are heard girls’ voices singing; enter,
dressed richly and gaily_, CHAUCER, _surrounded by a bevy
of Canterbury brooch-girls, who have wreathed him with
flowers and long ribbons, by which they pull him; plying
him with their wares, while he attempts to talk aside with
the Man-of-Law, who accompanies him_.]
CANTERBURY GIRLS
[_Sing._]
High and low,
Low and high,
Be they merry,
Be they glum,
When they come
To Canterbury,
Canterbury,
Canterbury,
Some low,
Some high,
Canterbury brooches buy.
CHAUCER
Sweet ladies--nay, sweet Canterbury muses,
Not Hercules amid the Lydian nymphs
Was ravished by more dulcet harmonies.
[_To Man-of-Law._]
You sergeants-of-the-law are subtle men.
MAN-OF-LAW
We have a knack--a knack, sir.
A GIRL
Pull his sleeve.
ANOTHER
They say you are a bridegroom. Is it true, sir?
CHAUCER
Your Canterbury skies rain compliments.
[_To Man-of-Law._]
Pray!--
MAN-OF-LAW
[_Taking money from Chaucer._]
If you insist, my lord.
CHAUCER
Nay, not “my lord.”
How stands the case?
MAN-OF-LAW
You say this wife hath been
Some eight times wedded?
CHAUCER
Five times.
A GIRL
Stop their gossip,
He’s talking business.
ALL THE GIRLS
Brooches! Souvenirs!
CHAUCER
[_Examining their wares._]
How much?
A GIRL
This? Two-pence.
MAN-OF-LAW
Five times--five times. Well!
CHAUCER
[_To Man-of-Law, giving more money._]
Prithee--
MAN-OF-LAW
If you insist.
A GIRL
[_To Chaucer._]
Mine for a penny.
MAN-OF-LAW
Why, then, the case stands thus: By English law,
No woman may be wedded but five times.
By law, sir, a sixth husband is proscribed.
CHAUCER
You’ll vouch for that? By law?
MAN-OF-LAW
Sir, I will quote
You precedents from William Conqueror.
CHAUCER
Alas, my nuptials! And I would have made
So neat a bridegroom!
A GIRL
Come, sir, will you buy?
ANOTHER
Take mine!
ALL THE GIRLS
Mine! Mine! Mine!
CHAUCER
Nay, fresh goddesses,
Your graces are more heavenly souvenirs!
Sell to me your glances
For a poet’s fancies!
[_To a girl with yellow hair._]
You, Midas’ daughter, how much for this gold?
THE GIRL
’Tis not for sale, sir.
CHAUCER
[_To another._]
How much for that rose?
THE GIRL
What rose?
CHAUCER
Your smile.
THE GIRL
Gratis--for you, sir.
[_Enter Alisoun, attired gorgeously as a bride._]
ALL THE GIRLS
Oh-h!
CHAUCER
How much, Olympians, for your nectar’d lips?
ALL THE GIRLS
A kiss! A kiss!
ALISOUN
Hold! Give the bride first licks.
ALL THE GIRLS
The bride!
ALISOUN
[_After kissing Chaucer._]
Now, lasses, take your turns.
A GIRL
The shrew!
ALISOUN
Lo! what a pot of honey I have won
To lure the village butterflies. Come, pretties,
Sip, sip, and die o’ jealousy.
A GIRL
[_To Chaucer._]
Who is
This woman?
CHAUCER
Nymphs, this is the gentle Thisbe
That wooed and won me. Judge then, goddesses,
How I must weep to lose her.
ALISOUN
Lose me, love?
Nay, honey-pot, I am too stuck on thee.
Thy bosom is my hive, and I queen-bee.
A GIRL
I’d rather lose my heart to a ripe pumpkin.
ANOTHER
Or a green gourd.
[_They go off, in piqued laughter._]
ALISOUN
[_Calls after them._]
What devil doth it matter
Whether he be a pumpkin or a rose,
So be that he rings sound.--Give me the man
That keeps his old bark grafted with new buds
And lops away the dead wood from his trunk,
And I will hug him like the mistletoe.
Geoffrey, thou art the man.
CHAUCER
[_As Alisoun is about to embrace him, turns to the Man-of-Law._]
Cold-blooded knave!
The flower of women and the wit of wives--
Yet I must lose her!
MAN-OF-LAW
Blame not me, sir; blame
The law.
CHAUCER
O heartless knave!
MAN-OF-LAW
By English law,
No woman may be wedded but five times.
ALISOUN
What’s that?
CHAUCER
But is there no exception?
MAN-OF-LAW
None.
By law, sir, a sixth husband is proscribed.
ALISOUN
Hey, what! What devil? Say’t again. I’m deef.
MAN-OF-LAW
By law, dame, a sixth husband is proscribed.
ALISOUN
Prescribed? Ho, then, art thou a doctor?
MAN-OF-LAW
No,
I am a sergeant-of-the-law.--“Proscribed”
Is to say, dame, “inhibited,” “forbidden.”
ALISOUN
How! you forbid me to take Geoffrey here
For my sixth husband?
CHAUCER
Nay, the law forbids it.
ALISOUN
Pish! What’s the fine?
MAN-OF-LAW
To hang, dame, by the neck
Till thou art dead.
ALISOUN
Aye, man, by _Geoffrey’s_ neck.
Get out!
CHAUCER
Canst quote the law?
MAN-OF-LAW
The statute, sir,--
The forty-ninth doom of King Richard--saith:
“One woman to five men sufficeth,” or
“Quid tibi placet mihi placet,” sir.
ALISOUN
Hog-gibberish!
CHAUCER
[_Aside._]
Nay, ’tis a man-of-law.
But soft! we’ll bribe him.
ALISOUN
[_Aside._]
Do, duck.
CHAUCER
Sergeant--hist!
[_Whispers aside and gives him money, as if covertly. Then
aloud._]
This statute, is there no appeal from it?
MAN-OF-LAW
A special dispensation from the king;
That’s all, sir.
ALISOUN
Break his head!
CHAUCER
Nay, Alis, here’s
Good news. The king himself is here to-day
In Canterbury. I will beg him grant
This special dispensation for our marriage.
ALISOUN
Thou--ask the king?
CHAUCER
Why not?
ALISOUN
Give me a vintner
For cheek! Sweet duck, I do believe thou lov’st me.
[_Enter the Miller, with the other Swains._]
CHAUCER
I am unworthy, love, to match thy wit.
MILLER
Thou art unworthy, fool, to latch her shoe.
CHAUCER
Even so.
MILLER
Thou likes to play the gentleman;
Come, then; I’ll duel you.
CHAUCER
Good Bob, I love thee.
MILLER
Come: knives or fists?
CHAUCER
Kind Bob, thou shalt this day
Shed tears and vow I love thee.
MILLER
Wilt not fight?
Then--
ALISOUN
[_Intercepting a blow at Chaucer._]
Hold there, Robin Sweetheart, art thou jealous?
MILLER
Aye, dame.
ALISOUN
What for?
MILLER
[_To Swains._]
She axes me what for!
Axe her, who gagged the Knight?
SHIPMAN
Who tied the Squire?
MANCIPLE
Who watched in the wet cellar?
SUMMONER
Tied thy doublet?
FRIAR
Who stole thy scarlet cloak?
COOK
Who kissed thy toe?
MILLER
Axe her, what made us do all this? Mayhap
To get our backs flayed--what? Mayhap to make
Our wench a wedding with this vintner here?
SHIPMAN
Revenge!
FRIAR
Remember Peggy’s stall.
[_They surround Chaucer threateningly._]
COOK
Vile tub!
PRIORESS
[_Entering, left._]
O Roderigo, help him!
KNIGHT
Whom? That churl!
SQUIRE
Father, let me!
KNIGHT
You are deceived in him.
SQUIRE
But, sir, these are the rogues that bound you.
KNIGHT
He
Is one of them. They are beneath our notice.
MANCIPLE
Death to the vintner!
SUMMONER
Hit him!
ALISOUN
Stand away!
CHAUCER
[_As Alisoun, with her fists, keeps them at bay._]
Happy, bridegroom, be thy stars
When thy Venus turns to Mars!
[_Enter heralds._]
HERALDS
Make way! Room for King Richard! Way! The King!
CLERK
[_In the crowd._]
Shall we see Chaucer now?
PARSON
He’s sure to come.
[_The heralds force back all the pilgrims, except those of
high degree, showing, at the great door of the Cathedral, a
procession of priests and choir-boys about to emerge._]
PRIEST
Peace, folk! Stop wrangling. Kneel! His Reverence,
Archbishop of Canterbury, meets the King.
PRIORESS
[_To Squire._]
Chaucer, you say?
SQUIRE
A little patience more.
[_A silence falls on the pilgrims as, within the Cathedral,
choir-boys begin to chant a hymn. Issuing from the door
and forming against one side of the massed, kneeling
pilgrims, enters a procession, headed by splendid-vested
priests, carrying pictured banners of St. Thomas and
his shrine, followed by choir-boys, and lastly, by the
Archbishop of Canterbury with regalia._]
THE PROCESSION
[_Sings._]
“Tu, per Thomæ sanguinem
Quem pro te impendit,
Fac nos, Christe, scandere
Quo Thomas ascendit.
[_Chants._]
Gloria et honore coronasti eum Domine
Et constituisti eum supra opera manuum tuarum
Ut ejus meritis et precibus a Gehennæ incendiis liberemur.”
[_At the climax of the chant, as the Archbishop appears in
the doorway, the chimes of the Cathedral peal forth from
high above the kneeling crowd; cheers, beginning from the
right, swell to a tumult, and as the people rise, enter,
right, King Richard on horseback, the Dukes of Lancaster,
Gloucester, and Ireland on ponies, and their train, among
whom are Wycliffe and Johanna on foot. Six mules, laden
with offerings, bring up the rear. The shouts of “God save
the King!” “God save John Gaunt!” etc., continue till the
King and nobles descend from their steeds._]
PILGRIMS
God save King Richard!
KING RICHARD
Thanks, good gaffers, thanks!
[_To John of Gaunt._]
Sweet Uncle Jack, thou hast a spanking pony.
Take her to Spain with you, and all the Dons
Will kiss her fetlock. N’est ce pas, bel ami?
DE VERE
They will, my Dick. Par charity! Haha!
ARCHBISHOP
[_Saluting gravely._]
God save your Majesty!
KING RICHARD
God save you, too!
Your Reverence is looking in fine feather.
Here are some trinkets for the holy martyr.
These mules bear spices from Arabia;
These--tapers; and these--Persian tapestries.
Here’s a neat statue of myself in gold;
And so, and so, so.--
[_To the Duke of Gloucester._]
Pretty Uncle Tom,
I wish my ruffs were puckered like your brows.
Dost thou pick faults, eh? in my Paris gown?
GLOUCESTER
My liege, this is the shrine of holy Becket.
KING RICHARD
Lord, save our souls!
[_To De Vere._]
Lend me a looking-glass.
DE VERE
[_Takes one from his sleeve._]
Ha! Dick, par charity!
[_Richard and De Vere look in the glass and make faces in
imitation of Gloucester and the others._]
PARSON
[_In the crowd to the Clerk._]
Yonder’s the Duke
Of Lancaster: John Gaunt.
CHAUCER
[_Who has been held back with the crowd by the heralds,
pushes through, and hastening forward, kneels to Johanna,
who is talking with Wycliffe._]
A boon! a boon!
JOHANNA
[_To Wycliffe._]
Protect me, sir!
CHAUCER
[_Holds up Johanna’s love-knot._]
Lady, once more, your pledge!
JOHANNA
Unmannered loon!
A HERALD
[_Seizes Chaucer roughly by the shoulder._]
Get back!
JOHN OF GAUNT
What, brother Geoffrey!
CHAUCER
Well met, old friend!
[_They embrace._]
KING RICHARD
God’s eyes! Our laureate.
Halloa there, Chaucer!
JOHANNA
Chaucer!
ALISOUN
Chaucer!
PRIORESS
Chaucer!
[_Chaucer bows to the King._]
SQUIRE
[_To Knight._]
Father, I said so.
GAUNT
You are late, my poet
What make you here?
CHAUCER
Blunders, your Grace.
GAUNT
How, blunders?
CHAUCER
Taxing the memory of a gracious lady.
JOHANNA
Signor, the place of fool I should have sued
For you, hath been already filled--by me.
I crave your pardon.
CHAUCER
And I kiss your hand.
KING RICHARD
Ho, Chaucer!
ALISOUN
[_Struggling with a herald._]
Let me out!
CHAUCER
Your Majesty?
KING RICHARD
When April comes, there’s not a man in England
But thinks on thee and love. While thou art England’s
And England Richard’s, thou art Richard’s own.
[_As the King embraces Chaucer, Alisoun breaks away from
the herald._]
ALISOUN
Hold up, your Majesty! The man is mine.
KING RICHARD
What’s this?
CHAUCER
My liege--another blunder.
[_Chaucer whispers aside to the Man-of-Law._]
KING RICHARD
So?
The blunder was not God’s in making her.
ALISOUN
The man is mine.
KING RICHARD
What, Geoffrey, art thou tripped?
Have love and April overflowed thy verse
To fill thy veins?
CHAUCER
Your Majesty--
MAN-OF-LAW
[_Aside to John of Gaunt._]
Dan Chaucer
Bid me explain to you--
[_They talk aside._]
CHAUCER
Your Majesty,
This is that fair-reputed fay, Queen Mab,
Who, having met amid the woods of Kent,
Hath so enamoured me, as you have said,
With love and April, that--to speak it short--
We are betrothed.
KING RICHARD
Betrothed!
DE VERE
Par charity!
MILLER
[_To a herald, who restrains him._]
Leave go!
GAUNT
[_Aside to Man-of-Law._]
A miller?
MAN-OF-LAW
[_Aside._]
Yes, that fellow there.
ALISOUN
[_Nudging Chaucer._]
Speak on, sweet chuck.
CHAUCER
“Betrothed,” your Majesty:
’Tis a sweet word which lovers’ law hath hallow’d,
But which your law, King Richard, hath envenom’d.
“No woman may be wedded but five times:”
Thus saith the law.
KING RICHARD
What! Where?
GAUNT
[_Laughingly aside._]
My liege!
[_They whisper._]
CHAUCER
And so,
Because this queen of wives hath scarce been knit
Five times in wedlock, therefore--saith the law--
Our bosoms must be sundered.
MILLER
[_In the crowd._]
God be praised!
CHAUCER
But knowing, King, how nobly wit and mercy
Are mixed in your complexion, I presume
To ask your greatness to outleap your laws
And grant, by special dispensation, to
This woman--a sixth husband.
KING RICHARD
By my fay, sir,
You ask too much. My laws are sacred.
[_Aside to John of Gaunt, who whispers him._]
Hein?
ALISOUN
Dig him again there, Geoffrey.
CHAUCER
King, have grace!
KING RICHARD
The Duke of Lancaster advises me
There may be one exception.
[_Aside._]
What? What’s that?
[_Aloud._]
But only one. My law is sacred.--Woman,
I grant to thee the right to wed once more
On one condition. Mark it; thy sixth husband
Must be a miller.--Herald, sound the verdict.
[_As the herald blares his trumpet, Alisoun shakes her
fist at Chaucer, who eyes her slily; then both burst into
laughter._]
HERALD
If any miller here desire this woman,
Now let him claim her.
MILLER
[_Rushes up._]
Here, by Corpus bones!
ALISOUN
Thou sweet pig’s eye! I take thee.
[_Extending her hand to Chaucer._]
Geoffrey, quits!
CHAUCER
Quits, Alisoun!
FRIAR
[_Bobbing up between them._]
Et moi?
ALISOUN
Et toi.
[_Kisses him._]
MILLER
[_Grabbing him._]
Hold, friar!
That pays thee to perform the ceremony.
KING RICHARD
[_Seated, to Chaucer._]
Come now, our prodigal Ulysses! Tell us;
What dark adventures have befallen thee since
Thou settest forth from Priam-Bailey’s castle?
What inland Circe witched our laureate
To mask his Muse among this porkish rabble?
CHAUCER
My liege, may I have leave to tell you bluntly?
KING RICHARD
Carte blanche, carte blanche, mon cher. I’ll be as mute
As e’er King Alcinous i’ the Odyssey.
CHAUCER
My Muse went masked, King Richard, from your court
To learn a roadside rhyme. Shall I repeat it?
KING RICHARD
Carte blanche, j’ai dit. Say on!
CHAUCER
Your Majesty,
“When Adam delved and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman?”
MILLER
By Corpus bones!
KING RICHARD
[_Starts up._]
Mort Dieu!
CHAUCER
“Carte blanche,” my liege!
Six years ago in London, when the mob
Roared round your stirrups, Wat the Tyler laid
His hand upon your bridle. “Sacrilege!”
Cried the Lord Mayor, and Wat Tyler fell
Dead.
[_The crowd murmurs._]
GLOUCESTER
[_To Richard, remonstratingly._]
Nephew!
[_The King, sitting again, motions Gloucester silence._]
CHAUCER
Whereat you, your Majesty--
God save you, a mere boy, a gallant boy--
Cried out: “Good fellows, have you lost your captain?
I am your King, and I will be your captain.”
[_The pilgrims cheer._]
Have you forgotten how they cheered? Then hark!
Once more that “porkish rabble” you shall hear
Make music sweeter than your laureate’s odes.
[_Turning to the crowd._]
Pilgrims and friends, deep-hearted Englishmen,
This is your King who called himself your captain.
PILGRIMS
[_Shout._]
God save the King!
CHAUCER
My liege, my dear young liege,
Are these the dull grunts of the swinish herd,
Or are they singing hearts of Englishmen?
Where is _the gentleman_, whose ermined throat
Shall strain a nobler shout? “When Adam delved”--
Sire, Adam’s sons are delving still, and he
Who scorns to set his boot-heel to the spade
Is but a bastard.
KING RICHARD
[_Jumps up again._]
’Swounds!
PILGRIMS
God save Dan Chaucer!
KING RICHARD
[_To Chaucer._]
Give me thy hand. God’s eyes! These knaves cheer you
Louder than me. Go tell the churls I love ’em.
CHAUCER
[_To the pilgrims._]
His Majesty bids me present you all
Before him, as his fellow Englishmen.
KING RICHARD
[_As the pilgrims approach._]
Fellows, God bless you!
[_To Chaucer._]
Thanks.
[_Snatching away his looking-glass from the hand of De
Vere, who is making a comic face at Chaucer, he smashes it
upon the ground._]
DE VERE
Sweet Dick!
ARCHBISHOP
My liege,
The holy canopy is being raised.
[_A medley of sweet bells is heard from within the Cathedral.
The pilgrims crowd about Chaucer._]
CHAUCER
Give me your hands, my friends. You hear the bells
Which call us to the holy martyr’s shrine.
Give me your hands, dear friends; and so farewell:
You, honest parson--sly Bob--testy Jack--
Gentle Sir Knight--bold Roger--Master Franklin--
All, all of you!--Call me your vintner still,
And I will brew you such a vintage as
Not all the saps that mount to nature’s sun
Can match in April magic. They who drink it--
Yes, though it be after a thousand years,
When this our shrine, which like the Pleiades
Now glitters, shall be bare and rasèd stone,
And this fresh pageant mildewed history--
Yet they who drink the vintage I will brew
Shall wake, and see a vision, in their wine,
Of Canterbury and our pilgrimage:
These very faces, with the blood in them,
Laughter and love and tang of life in them,
These moving limbs, this rout, this majesty!
For by that resurrection of the Muse,
Shall you, sweet friends, re-met in timeless Spring,
Pace on through time upon eternal lines
And ride with Chaucer in his pilgrimage.
[_A deep bell sounds._]
ARCHBISHOP
My liege, St. Thomas will receive his pilgrims.
[_The King, lords, and people, forming in procession, begin
to move toward the entrance of the Cathedral._]
CHAUCER
[_To Prioress._]
Madame, will you walk in with me?
PRIORESS
Monsieur,
If you will offer this at Thomas’ shrine.
CHAUCER
Your brooch!
PRIORESS
Our brooch.
CHAUCER
When shall we meet again?
PRIORESS
Do you forget our star?
CHAUCER
Forget our star!
Not while the memory of beauty pains
And _Amor vincit omnia_.
[_The heralds blare their trumpets; the priests swing their
censers; the choir-boys, slowly entering the Cathedral,
chant their hymn to St. Thomas, in which all the pilgrims
join. Just as Chaucer and the Prioress are about to enter,
the curtain falls._]
Explicit pars quarta.
FINIS.
[Illustration: In lauđibus Aña.
Aña.
Granum cadit copiam germinat frumenti: alabastrum
frangitur fragrat vis unguenti. ps̅̅. Dñs regnavit
Aña.
Totus orbis martyris certat in amorem: cujus
signa singulos agunt in stuporem. ps̅̅. Jubilate.
Aña.
Aqua thome quinquies varians colorem
in lac semel transiitquater in cruorem. ps̅̅. De’ de’ me’
Aña
Ad thome memoriam quater lux descendit: et
in sancti gloriam cereos accendit. ps̅̅. Benedicite
Aña.
Tu per thome sanguinẽ quem pro te impendit: fac
nos christe scandere quo thomas ascendit. ps̅̅. Laudate
]
ADDENDA
1. The accompanying reproduction of the original Hymn to St. Thomas,
of which the last verse only is sung by the pilgrims in Act IV, is
authentic in words and music.
The author is sincerely indebted to Professor Kittredge, of Harvard
University, for tracing and securing, through the various courtesies of
Mr. Albert Matthews (of Boston), Mr. Frank Kidson (of Leeds), Mr. J.
E. Matthew (of S. Hampstead, London), and Mr. Wilson (of the British
Museum Library), a copy of this almost inaccessible document.
The words are taken from Vol. 13, p. 240, of Dreves’ “Collection
of Sequences and Latin Hymns.” The music is copied from the “Sarum
Antiphonal” of 1519.
In regard to the music, Mr. Wilson writes: “Each of these Antiphons
(_i.e._ each verse of the hymn) is sung once before, and once after,
each psalm. Here there are five; and at the end of each is the
catchword of the psalm. The first is ‘_Dominus regnavit_’; the second,
‘_Jubilate_,’ and so on.”
Mr. J. E. Matthew writes: “The catchword is not sufficient, in every
case, to identify the psalm, but I have indicated all the psalms having
such beginnings.[1] The lines ‘Gloria et honore coronasti,’ etc.
(part, of course, of the 8th Psalm: ‘Thou hast crowned him with glory
and honour’), form no part of the service in the ‘Sarum Antiphonal.’”
2. For valuable information and advice regarding the chronology of
the “Canterbury Tales” as affecting this play, the author also gives
sincere thanks to his friend, Mr. John S. P. Tatlock, of the University
of Michigan.
3. The following dates will reveal certain anachronisms in the text of
his play, which the writer, for dramatic purposes, has ignored:--
Oct. 1, 1386: Chaucer was elected Knight of the Shire for
Kent, which office he still held in April, 1387.
Dec. 31, 1384: Wycliffe died.
1386: John of Gaunt left England for Castile.
4. According to Chaucer scholars, the third wife of John of Gaunt was
probably a sister of Chaucer’s wife. Upon this probability, though
it could not have been a fact until after 1387, the author bases his
dramatic license of referring to Chaucer and the Duke of Lancaster as
brothers-in-law.
PERCY MACKAYE.
NEW YORK, March, 1903.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The psalms, as indicated by Mr. Matthew, are as follows: Beginning
_Deus regnavit_, xxiii, xcix; _Jubilate_, c, lxvi; _Deus, Deus, meus_,
xxii, lxiii; _Benedicite_, The Song of the Three Children? (Apocrypha.)
_Laudate_, cxiii, cxvii, cxxxiv, cxlvii, cxlviii.
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