PLAY ONE
PART ONE
One: Prologue
CHAUCER.
When that April with his showrers sweetë
The drought of March hath piercéd to the root
And bathéd every vein in such licower –
Of which virtue engendréd is the flower –
When Zephirus eek with his sweetë breath
Inspiréd hath in every holt and heath
The tender crops – And the young Sun
Hath in the Ram his halfë-course yrun –
And smallë fowlës maken melody
That sleepen all the night with open eye
(So priketh ’em Nature in their courages)
Then longen folk to go on pilgrimages –
PILGRIMS sing ‘When the Nightingale’ offstage.
And palmers for to seeken strangë strands
To fernë halwes, kowth in sundry lands;
And specially from every shire’s end
Of Engerland – To Canterb’ry they wend
The holy, blissful martyr for to seek
That them hath helpen when that they were sick
Befell that in that season on a day
In Southwark at The Tabard – as I lay
Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterb’ry with full devout couráge –
At night was come into that hostelry
Well nine-and-twenty in a company
Of sundry folk, by áventure yfall
In fellowship … And pilgrims were they all
That tóward Canterb’ry would ride.
The PILGRIMS burst in, led by the low-life.
SONG.
When the nightingale is singing
The woods wax white and green
With leaf and with blossom springing
In April well I ween
And Love my poor heart is stinging
Pierced with his arrows keen
All the night my sighs go winging
In April well I ween.
The KNIGHT and the SQUIRE come in leading the richer sort, and are greeted by the HOST and his PEOPLE. They sit down to dinner.
CHAUCER.
A knight there was, and that a worthy man
That from the time that he at first began
To know the world, he worshipped chivalry –
Truth, and honour, freedom and courtesy.
He’d proved his worth in wars fought for his lord
Through Christendom and heathen lands abroad.
In mortal battles had he been – fifteen –
And championed our faith at Tramyssene.
With him there was his son, a brave young squire,
A lad in love with love, with youth on fire –
Singing he was, or whistling all the day –
As fresh and green as is the month of May.
Courteous he was – modest, and able –
HOST.
To board, sir! Supper time –
He hands him a drink, which CHAUCER drains.
CHAUCER.
And served his father when he came to table.
They brought no other servant but this yeoman –
An English archer – afraid of no man.
I rather like his silver Christopher –
You’d guess, by trade he is a forester,
And – here – we have a nun – a prioress –
An educated lady … more or less –
Most careful in her manners – sim’pring, coy –
And if she swears it’s only –
SQUIRE steps on her LAPDOG which yelps.
PRIORESS.
By Saint Loy!
SQUIRE.
Oh, I’m so very sorry!
PRIORESS.
Oh mon p’tee chien! Poverino! Venez au maman! Pauvre p’tee! O la! La!
CHAUCER.
What French she’s learned, in Convent-school inland,
In Paris they’d be pushed to understand.
MONK.
Let not my hounds see it, Lady. They’d bite its head off –
WIFE OF BATH.
Here – give it a bit of sausage –
PRIORESS.
Oh non, non, Madame! Its little stomach is tres, tres delicate. Vous comprenez?
CHAUCER.
Then there’s a reeve, a miller and a cook –
A crowd of holy folk – and then, just look –
This woman here’s a widow four times over –
WIFE OF BATH.
Five times, in truth. And who are you, sir?
CHAUCER.
O, I’m just – well – nobody – that is, nobody you’d know …
WIFE OF BATH.
Come sit by me, then. Come, sir will ye go?
CHAUCER.
As for the rest of this ebullient throng
I’ll introduce them as we ride along –
HOST.
To board! To board! The meat will burn –
CHAUCER.
Great cheer made us our Host – good meats, wine strong –
And to our supper set us down anon –
HOST.
Lordings! –
CHAUCER.
Quoth he –
HOST.
You’re going to Canterb’ry? Well God speed y...