FRIAR JOHN: Though he, 'tis said, doth lead most evil life!
THE REEVE: To which fair lord our wilful maid we'd wed--
FRIAR JOHN: Since this fair lord the council holds in dread!
THE REEVE: But she, defying us, this very day
Like wicked thief hath stole herself away.
Thus this poor lord such deeps of gloom is in
Vows he'll not wash, nor shave again his chin
Till found is she: He groaneth, sheddeth tears--
THE FRIAR: And swears her guardians ten shall lose their ears!
THE REEVE: Wherefore are we in mighty perturbation,
Amazed, distraught and filled with consternation.
Thus do our bells ring out their wild alarms,
Our civic bands do muster under arms;
Drums shall be drummed the countryside around,
Until our truant Duchess we have found,
And we have wed this most elusive dame
Unto Sir Agramore of Biename.
THE FRIAR: And yield her thus to woes and bitter shame!
THE REEVE: So speak me, fellows; as ye came this way
Saw ye aught of this wilful, errant may?
Answered JOCELYN: “Neither to-day nor any other day.”
“Why then,” fumed the Reeve, “here have we been at great expense o' breath
and time and all to no purpose. Come, Friar, beseech thee, let us haste to
begone.”
So Friar John got slowly to his feet
Complaining loud of hurry and of heat,
But paused behind the hasteful Reeve to linger,
And to plump nose he slyly laid plump finger.
Now stood Sir Pertinax thoughtful, chin on fist, insomuch that Jocelyn,
thrumming his lute, questioned him:
“Good Pertinax, how now
What pond'rest thou
With furrowed brow?
Thy care, Sir Knight, avow!”
Saith Pertinax: “I meditate the way wondrous of woman, the frowardness of
creatures feminine. For mark me, sir, here is one hath guardians ten, yet
despite them she is fled away and they ten!”
“Why truly, Pertinax, they are ten, so is she fled.”
“Aye, but if they be ten that ward her and she one that would flee, how
shall this one flee these ten?”
“For that they be ten.”
“Nay, lord, here be twenty eyes to watch one young maid and twenty legs to
pursue the same, yet doth she evade them one and all, and here's the wonder
on't--she's but one maid.”
“Nay, there's the reason on't, Pertinax--she is a maid.”
“The which is great matter for wonder, lord!”
“Spoke like a very Pertinax, my Pertinax, for here's no wonder at all. For
perceive, the lady is young, her wardens ten grave seniors, worthy wights
--solemn, sober and sedate, Pertinax, wise and wearisome, grave yet
garrulous, and therefore they suffice not.”
“Aye, prithee and wherefore not?”
“For their divers worthy attributes and because they be--ten. Now had these
ten been one and this one a very man--_the_ man--here had been no running
away on part of the lady, I 'll warrant me?”
“Stay, my lord,” said Pertinax, in deep perplexity, “how judge ye so--and
wherefore--why and by what manner o' reasoning?”
“Ha, Pertinax!” laughed the Duke, “my lovely, loveless numskull!” So
saying, he kicked the good Knight full joyously and so they trudged on
again.
Till presently, beyond the green of trees,
They saw afar the town of Canalise,
A city fair, couched on a gentle height,
With walls embattled and strong towers bedight.
Now seeing that the sun was getting low,
Our travellers at quicker pace did go.
Thus as in haste near to the gate they came,
Before them limped a bent and hag-like dame,
With long, sharp nose that downward curved as though
It beak-like wished to peck sharp chin below.
Humbly she crept in cloak all torn and rent,
And o'er a staff her tottering limbs were bent.
So came she to the gate, then cried in fear,
And started back from sudden-levelled spear;
For 'neath the gate lounged lusty fellows three
Who seldom spake yet spat right frequently.
“Kind sirs, good sirs,” the ancient dame did cry,
“In mercy's name I pray ye let me by--”
But, as she spoke, a black-jowled fellow laughed,
And, spitting, tripped her with out-thrust pike-shaft,
That down she fell and wailed most piteously,
Whereat the brawny fellows laughed all three.
“Ha, witch!” they cried, as thus she helpless lay,
“Shalt know the fire and roasted be one day!”
Now as the aged creature wailed and wept,
Forth to her side Duke Joc'lyn lightly stepped,
With quarter-staff a-twirl he blithely came.
Quoth he: “Messires, harm not this ancient dame,
Bethink ye how e'en old and weak as she,
Your wives and mothers all must one day be.
So here then lies your mother, and 't were meeter
As ye are sons that as sons ye entreat her.
Come, let her by and, fool-like to requite ye,
With merry jape and quip I will delight ye,
Or with sweet song I 'll charm those ass's ears,
And melt, belike, those bullish hearts to tears--”
Now the chief warder, big and black of jowl,
Upon the Duke most scurvily did scowl.
“How now,” quoth he, “we want no fool's-heads here--”
“Sooth,” laughed the Duke, “you're fools enow 't is clear,
Yet there be fools and fools, ye must allow,
Gay fools as I and surly fools--as thou.”
“Ha, look 'ee, Fool, Black Lewin e'en am I,
And, by my head, an ill man to defy.
Now, motley rogue, wilt call me fool?” he roared,
And roaring fierce, clapped hairy fist on sword.
“Aye, that will I,” Duke Joc'lyn soft replied,
And black-avised, swart, knavish rogue beside.”
But now, while thus our ducal jester spoke,
Black Lewin sprang and fetched him such a stroke
That Jocelyn saw flash before his eyes,
More stars that e'er he'd noticed in the skies.
Whereat Sir Pertinax did gaping stare,
Then ground his teeth and mighty oaths did swear,
And in an instant bared his trusty blade,
But then the Duke his fiery onslaught stayed.
“Ha!” cried the Knight, “and wilt thou smitten be
By such base knave, such filthy rogue as he?”
“Nay,” smiled the Duke, “stand back and watch, good brother,
A Rogue and Fool at buffets with each other.”
And speaking thus, he leapt on Black Lewin,
And smote him twice full hard upon the chin,
Two goodly blows upon that big, black jowl,
Whereat Black Lewin lustily did howl
And falling back, his polished bascinet
With ringing clash the cold, hard flagstones met.
Whereat his fellows, shouting fierce alarms,
Incontinent betook them to their arms;
And thus it seemed a fight there must have been
But that a horseman sudden spurred between--
A blue-eyed youth with yellow, curling hair,
Of slender shape, of face and feature fair,
A dainty knight was he in very truth,
A blue-eyed, merry, laughter-loving youth.
“Ha, knaves, what do ye with the Fool?” lisped he,
“Wilt strike a motley, dogs--a Fool? Let be!
Though faith, 't would seem, Sir Fool, thou hast a fist
That surly Lewin to his dole hath kissed.
If it can strum thy lute but half as well,
Then gestours all methinks thou should'st excel--
Ye rogues, pass Folly in, no man shall say
That from our town we folly turned away.
Come, follow, Fool, into the market-square,
And give us earnest of thy foolish ware.”
Now it was market day, and within the goodly square were people come from
near and far, a notable concourse, country folk and folk of the town,
farmers and merchants, rustic maids, fair ladies, knights and esquires on
horseback or a-foot, but who, hearing the jingle of the Duke's tinkling
bells, seeing his flaunting cock's-comb, with one accord gathered to him
from every quarter:
For when this long-legged gestour they espied,
They, laughing, hemmed him in on every side,
And, “See, a Fool! A Fool! The Fool must sing,”
And “Fool! A Fool!” upon the air did ring,
Wherefore the Duke betook him to his lute,
And strummed until the chattering crowd was mute.
Then while all folk did hold their peace to hear,
In golden voice he sang, full rich and clear:
“'A fool! A fool!' ye cry,
A fool forsooth am I.
But tell me, wise ones, if ye can,
Where shall ye find a happy man?
Lived there one since the world began?
Come, answer ye
To me!
“'What of the king?' says you.
Says I to you--'Go to!
A king despite his crown and throne,
Hath divers troubles all his own.
Such woes, methinks, as are unknown
To such as ye,
Or me!'
“'Ha, then--the rich!' ye cry,
'Not so in truth,' says I.
'The rich man's gold is load of care,
That day and night he needs must bear;
Less care he'd know if poor he were,
As poor as ye,
Or me!'
“For, sirs, as I do guess
This thing called 'Happiness'
Man leaveth with his youth behind;
So keep ye all a youthful mind,
Thus happiness ye all shall find
If wit have ye,
Like me!
“O list ye, great and small,
Proud knight, free man and thrall,
True happiness, since life began,
The birthright is of every man;
Seize then your birthright if ye can,
Since men are ye--
Like me!
“Thus I forsooth, a Fool,
Do now ye wise ones school;
Since of my folly, full and free,
I wisely thus admonish ye,
Be wise--or eke fools learn to be
In verity--
Like me!”
Now when the song was ended some there were who laughed and some looked
grave, some talked amain and some wagged solemn heads, while many a good
coin rang heartily at Duke Jocelyn's feet; smiling, he bade Sir Pertinax
take them up, joying to see the proud Knight stooping thus to pouch the
money like any beggar. But now, when he would fain have gone his way into
the town, the people would by no means suffer it and clamoured amain on
all sides, insistent for more; wherefore, lifting his scarred face to the
sunset sky, Duke Jocelyn sang as here followeth:
“When man is born he doth begin
With right good will, to daily sin,
And little careth.
But when his grave he thinketh near,
Then grave he groweth in his fear
And sin forsweareth.
“This life that man doth cherish so,
Is wondrous frail and quick to go,
Nor will it stay.
Yet where's the man that will not give
All that he hath so he might live
Another day.
“Fain would I know the reason why
All men so fearful are to die
And upward go?
Since Death all woes and ills doth end,
Sure Death, methinks, should be a friend,
Not hated foe.
“So when Death come, as come he must,
Grieve not that we this sorry dust
Do leave behind.
For when this fleeting life be run,
By Death we all of us--each one,
True life shall find.”
Now while he sang melodious and clear
Amid the throng that closer pressed to hear,
Duke Joc'lyn of a sudden did espy
The “wherefore” of his coming and the “why.”
Yolande herself he, singing, did behold,
Her eyes, red lips, her hair of ruddy gold;
And all her warm and glowing loveliness
Did sudden thus his raptured vision bless;
While she, in gracious ease, her horse did sit
That pawed round hoof and champed upon his bit,
Arching proud neck as if indeed he were
Proud of the lovely burden he did bear.
As Joc'lyn gazed upon her thus, she seemed
A thousand times more fair than he had dreamed.
Now while he sang, she viewed him, gentle-eyed,
And quite forgot the gallant by her side,
A tall, dark-featured, comely lord was he,
With chin full square and eyes of mastery,
Who, when the Duke made of his song an end
Did from his saddle o'er Yolanda bend.
With eyes on her warm beauty he stooped near
To touch white hand and whisper in her ear;
Whereat she laughed and frowned with cheek flushed red
Then, frowning still, she turned her horse's head,
And rode away with dame and squire and knight,
Till lost she was to Joc'lyn's ravished sight.
“Ha, lord!” quoth Sir Pertinax, as they came within a quiet thoroughfare,
“this lady is grown more fair since last we saw her Queen of Beauty at
Melloc joust, concerning whom Fame, in troth, doth breed a just report for
once. But, messire, didst mark him beside her--with touch o' hand, lord,
whispers i' the ear--didst mark this wolf, this Seneschal, this thrice
accurst Sir Gui?”
“Aye, forsooth,” answered the Duke, “but thou'rt an hungered, methinks?”
“To touch her hand, lord--aha! To whisper in her ear, lord--oho! A right
puissant lord, Seneschal of Raddemore, Lord of Thorn and Knight of Ells! A
lord of puissance and power potential.”
“And thou, my Pertinax, art but a hungry Knight, that trampeth with a
hungry Fool, wherefore let us forthwith--”
“Aye, but mark me, lord, if this puissant lord with pomp and high estate
doth woo the lady--”
“So then, my Pertinax, will I woo this lady also.”
“How, in this thy foolish guise?”
“Aye, forsooth.”
“Why, then, thou art like to be whipped for froward Fool and I for ragged
rogue, and this our adventure brought to ill and woeful end--so here now is
folly, lord, indeed!”
“Aye, forsooth!” smiled the Duke,
“Whereto these bells give heed.
But come, amend thy speed,
Methinks thy fasting-need
These gloomy vapours breed.
Thy inner man doth plead
Good beef with ale or mead
Wherein, thou Fool decreed,
I am right well agreed
'T were goodly thing to feed,
Nor will I thee impede,
So follow Folly's lead
And food-wards we'll proceed.”