The Wanderer The Epic Poem of Beowulf
Oft to the wanderer, weary of exile,
Cometh God's pity, compassionate love,
Thus saith the wanderer mindful of misery,
Grievous disasters, and death of kin:
No man is living, no comrade left,
To whom I dare fully unlock my heart.
'So have I also, often in wretchedness
Fettered my feelings, far from my kin,
Homeless and hapless, since days of old,
"Who bears it, knows what a bitter companion,
Shoulder to shoulder, sorrow can be,
When friends are no more. His fortune is exile,
"Even in slumber his sorrow assaileth,
And, dreaming he claspeth his dear lord again,
Head on knee, hand on knee, loyally laying.
And grimly he spurs his weary soul
Once more to the toil of the tossing sea.
When I reflect on the fates of men-
How one by one proud warriors vanish
From the halls that knew them, and day by day
All this earth ages and droops unto death.
No man may know wisdom till many a winter
Has been his portion. A wise man is patient,
Not swift to anger. nor hasty of speech.
Neither too weak, nor too reckless, in war,
Neither fearful nor fain, nor too wishful of wealth,
Nor too eager in vow- ere he know the event.
The Warden of men hath wasted this world
Till the sound of music and revel is stilled,
And these giant-built structures stand empty of life.
'Where now is the warrior? Where is the war horse?
Bestowal of treasure, and sharing of feast?
Alas! the bright ale-cup, the byrny-clad warrior,
The prince in his splendor -those days are long sped
In the night of the past, as if they never had been!'
Good man is he who guardeth his faith.
He must never too quickly unburden his breast
Of its sorrow, but eagerly strive for redress;
And happy the man who seeketh for mercy
From his heavenly Father, our fortress and strength.
PRELUDE OF THE FOUNDER OF THE DANISH HOUSE
Lo, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing… a good king he!
…the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world’s renown.
Famed was this Beowulf:[5] far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling’s barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle
I
…haughty Healfdene, who held through life,
sage and sturdy, the Scyldings glad.
Then, one after one, there woke to him,
to the chieftain of clansmen, children four:
Heorogar, then Hrothgar, then Halga brave;
and I heard that —— was ——’s queen,
the Heathoscylfing’s helpmate dear.
To Hrothgar was given such glory of war,
…It came in his mind
to bid his henchmen a hall uprear,
Heorot he named it
whose message had might in many a land.
With envy and anger an evil spirit
endured the dole in his dark abode,
that he heard each day the din of revel
…He sang who knew
tales of the early time of man,
how the Almighty, made the earth,
fairest fields enfolded by water,
set, triumphant, sun and moon
Grendel this monster grim was called,
march-riever mighty, in moorland living
On kin of Cain was the killing avenged
by sovran God for slaughtered Abel.
Of Cain awoke all that woful breed,
Etins and elves and evil-spirits,
II
…Unhallowed wight,
grim and greedy, he grasped betimes,
wrathful, reckless, from resting-places,
thirty of the thanes,
Then at the dawning, as day was breaking,
the might of Grendel to men was known ;
In sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel
harassed Hrothgar,
Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes
altar-offerings, asked with words
that the slayer-of-souls would succor give them
for the pain of their people. Their practice this,
their heathen hope; ’twas Hell they thought of
in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not,
Doomsman of Deeds and dreadful Lord,
nor Heaven’s-Helmet heeded they ever,
Wielder-of-Wonder. — Woe for that man
who in harm and hatred hales his soul
to fiery embracers ; — nor favor nor change
But well for him
that after death-day may draw to his Lord,
and friendship find in the Father’s arms!
V took mortal hurt; a mighty wound
“Hygelac’s, we,
fellows at board ; I am Beowulf named
I am seeking to say to the son of Healfdene
this mission of mine, to thy master-lord,
the doughty prince, if he deign at all
grace that we greet him, the good one, now.”
VIII
So ween I for thee a worse adventure
—though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been,
in struggle grim,—if Grendel’s approach
thou darst await through the watch of night!”
’Twas granted me, though,
to pierce the monster with point of sword,
with blade of battle: huge beast of the sea
was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.
X by wile and wisdom.
“Of force in fight no feebler I count me,
in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.
Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death
his life will I give, though it lie in my power.
No skill is his to strike against me,
my shield to hew though he hardy be,
bold in battle; we both, this night,
shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here,
685unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God,
sacred Lord, on which side soever
doom decree as he deemeth right.”
by single strength. In sooth ’tis told
that highest God o’er human kind
hath wielded ever!—Thro’ wan night striding,
Warriors slept
whose best was to guard the gabled hall,—
all save one.
XI
Then from the moorland, by misty crags,
with God’s wrath laden, Grendel came.
Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior
for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,
the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,
swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus
the lifeless corse was clear devoured,
…Then farther he hied;
for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,
felt for the foe with fiendish claw,
for the hero reclining,—who clutched it boldly,
prompt to answer, propped on his arm.
Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils
that never he met in this middle-world.
in the ways of earth, another wight
with heavier hand-gripe;
Too closely held him
he who of men in might was strongest
in that same day of this our life.
XII
… —no keenest blade,
no fairest of falchions fashioned on earth,
could harm or hurt that hideous fiend!
He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,
from edge of iron.
… The outlaw dire
showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,
and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now
the glory was given, and Grendel thence
death-sick his den in the dark moor sought,
noisome abode: he knew too well
that here was the last of life, an end
of his days on earth.
XIV
“For the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler
be speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows
I have borne from Grendel; but God still works
wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.
… This hero now,
by the Wielder’s might, a work has done
that not all of us erst could ever do
XIX
… The livelong time
after that grim fight, Grendel’s mother,
monster of women, mourned her woe.
She was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters,
cold sea-courses, since Cain cut down
with edge of the sword his only brother,
his father’s offspring:
… And his mother now,
gloomy and grim, would go that quest
of sorrow, the death of her son to avenge.
Haste was hers; she would hie afar
and save her life when the liegemen saw her.
Yet a single atheling up she seized
fast and firm, as she fled to the moor.
XX
Hrothgar spake, helmet-of-Scyldings:—
“Ask not of pleasure! Pain is renewed
to Danish folk. Dead is Æschere,
By night is a wonder weird to see,
fire on the waters. So wise lived none
of the sons of men, to search those depths!
… Seek if thou dare!
I will reward thee, for waging this fight,
with ancient treasure, as erst I did,
with winding gold, if thou winnest back.
XXI
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
“Sorrow not, sage! It beseems us better
friends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them.
Each of us all must his end abide
in the ways of the world; so win who may
glory ere death! When his days are told,
that is the warrior’s worthiest doom.
O realm-warder! Ride we anon,
and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel.
 … The footprints led
along the woodland, widely seen,
a path o’er the plain, where she passed, and trod
the murky moor; of men-at-arms
she bore the bravest and best one, dead,
had sorrow of soul, and for Scyldings all,
for many a hero, ’twas hard to bear,
ill for earls, when Æschere’s head
they found by the flood on the foreland there.
XXII
Swift on her part she paid him back
with grisly grasp, and grappled with him.
XXIII
’Mid the battle-gear saw he a blade triumphant,
old-sword of Eotens, with edge of proof,
warriors’ heirloom, weapon unmatched,
—save only ’twas more than other men
to bandy-of-battle could bear at all—
as the giants had wrought it, ready and keen.
Seized then its chain-hilt the Scyldings’ chieftain,
bold and battle-grim, brandished the sword,
reckless of life, and so wrathfully smote
that it gripped her neck and grasped her hard,
her bone-rings breaking: the blade pierced through
that fated-one’s flesh: to floor she sank.
Grendel stretched there, spent with war,
when after death it endured the blow,
sword-stroke savage, that severed its head.
XXXI
Then Beowulf came as king this broad
realm to wield; and he ruled it well
fifty winters, a wise old prince,
warding his land, until One began
in the dark of night, a Dragon, to rage.
In the grave on the hill a hoard it guarded,
…Some man, however,
came by chance that cave within
to the heathen hoard. In hand he took
a golden goblet, nor gave he it back,
XXXII
who, blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth,
naked foe-dragon flying by night
When the dragon awoke, new woe was kindled.
O’er the stone he snuffed. The stark-heart found
footprint of foe who so far had gone
in his hidden craft by the creature’s head.—
XXXIII
Then the baleful fiend its fire belched out,
and bright homes burned. The blaze stood high
all landsfolk frighting. No living thing
would that loathly one leave as aloft it flew.
To Beowulf then the bale was told
quickly and truly: the king’s own home,
The folk’s own fastness that fiery dragon
with flame had destroyed, and the stronghold all
washed by waves; but the warlike king,
prince of the Weders, plotted vengeance.
… —Atheling brave,
he was fated to finish this fleeting life,
his days on earth, and the dragon with him,
… —A good king he!
XXXIV
With comrades eleven the lord of Geats
swollen in rage went seeking the dragon.
XXXV
Then let from his breast, for he burst with rage,
the Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;
stormed the stark-heart; stern went ringing
and clear his cry ’neath the cliff-rocks gray.
The hoard-guard heard a human voice;
his rage was enkindled. No respite now
… The poison-breath
of that foul worm first came forth from the cave,
The hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved his breast
once more; and by peril was pressed again,
enfolded in flames, the folk-commander!
Nor yet about him his band of comrades,
sons of athelings, arméd stood
with warlike front: to the woods they bent them,
their lives to save. But the soul of one
with care was cumbered. Kinship true
can never be marred in a noble mind!
XXXVI
Wiglaf his name was, Weohstan’s son,
linden-thane loved, the lord of Scylfings,
Ælfhere’s kinsman.
Not long he lingered. The linden yellow,
his shield, he seized; the old sword he drew:—
… The bold king again
had mind of his glory: with might his glaive
was driven into the dragon’s head,—
Then for the third time thought on its feud
that folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon,
… its bitter teeth
closed on his neck, and covered him
with waves of blood from his breast that welled.
XXXVII
Beowulf spake in spite of his hurt,
his mortal wound; full well he knew
his portion now was past and gone
Wiglaf loved, now the worm lies low,
sleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.
XLI
…—Now haste is best,
that we go to gaze on our Geatish lord,
and bear the bountiful breaker-of-rings
to the funeral pyre. No fragments merely
shall burn with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,
gold untold and gained in terror,
treasure at last with his life obtained,
all of that booty the brands shall take,
fire shall eat it. No earl must carry
memorial jewel. No maiden fair
shall wreathe her neck with noble ring:
XLIII
Thus made their mourning the men of Geatland,
for their hero’s passing his hearth-companions:
quoth that of all the kings of earth,
of men he was mildest and most belovéd,
to his kin the kindest, keenest for praise.
 The Canterbury Tales
THE GREAT PROLOGUE
When that April with his showers sweet
The drought of March has pierced root deep,
And bathed each vein with liquor of such power
That engendered from it is the flower,
And little birds are making melody,
Who all the night with open eye do sleep –
Nature their hearts in every way so pricks –
Then people long to go on pilgrimage,
It befell that in that season on a day,
In Southwark at The Tabard as I lay,
There came at night to that hostelry
Quite nine and twenty in a company
Of sundry folk who had chanced to fall
Into a fellowship, and pilgrims all,
That towards Canterbury meant to ride.
It seems to me in full accord with reason,
To tell you everything of their condition,
Of each of them, as they appeared to me,
And who they were, and of what degree,
There was a KNIGHT and he a worthy man,
That from the day on which he first began,
To ride abroad, had followed chivalry,
Truth, honour, courtesy and charity.
Of mortal battles he had seen fifteen,
And fought for the faith at Tramissene
And though he was valiant, he was wise,
And in his manner modest as a maid.
He was a very perfect gentle knight.
With him there was his son, a young SQUIRE,
Lover and lively bachelor entire
With locks as crisp as from a curling-press;
Of twenty years of age he was, I guess.
Of his stature, he was of middle height,
Wonderfully agile, powerful in a fight.
A YEOMAN had he (servants did forgo
Other than this, and chose to travel so),
A sheaf of peacock arrows, bright and keen
Sheathed in his belt he bore right properly –
Well could he dress his gear, yeomanly;
There was also a nun, a PRIORESS,
Her smile itself ingenuous and coy.
Her greatest oath was only ‘by Saint Loy’,
And she was called Madame Eglentine.
And fair French she spoke, all elegantly,
After the school of Stratford-atte-Bowe;
And from her lips she let no morsel fall,
Nor dipped her fingers in the sauce too deep;
Courtesy it was that pleased her best.
Her upper lip she would wipe so clean
That in her cup no trace of grease was seen
She was so charitable, tender, anxious,
She would weep if she but saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.
But certainly she had a fair forehead,
Her cloak was very elegant, I saw;
And from it hung a brooch of golden sheen,
On which there first was writ a crowned A,
And after: ‘Amor vincit omnia’.
Another NUN she had with her, and she
Was her chaplain, and with them priests three.
A MONK there was, of the highest degree,
Who loved to hunt, agent of a monastery,
A manly man, for an Abbot’s role quite able.
He gave not for that text a plucked hen
That says that hunters are not holy men,
But he held that text not worth an oyster.
Let Augustine keep his labour for his own!
Therefore he was a hunting man outright.
Greyhounds he had, as swift as birds in flight;
Tracking with dogs and hunting the hare
Was all his pleasure, no cost did he spare
I saw his sleeves were trimmed at the wrist
With grey fur, and of the country’s finest;
He had a wrought-gold elaborate pin;
His head was bald, and shone like any glass,
And his face, as if he had been anointed;
He was a lord full fat, and well appointed.
He was not pale like some tormented ghost.
A fat swan he loved best of any roast;
A FRIAR there was, a wanton one and merry,
A Limiter, a very jovial man.
Full sweetly he would hear confessions,
And very pleasant were his absolutions.
His neck was white as the fleur-de-lis;
And he was as strong as any champion.
Since such a worthy man as he
It suited not his calling or degree,
With such lepers to maintain acquaintance.
To have dealings with such poor people,
Only with the rich, sellers of victuals.
And everywhere a profit might arise,
He wore a courteous and humble guise;
He lisped a little out of affectation,
To sound his English sweet upon the tongue;
And in his harping, whenever he had sung,
His eyes would twinkle in his head aright
As do the stars on high in frosty night.
Hubert his name, this worthy Limiter.
A MERCHANT was there, with a forked
Dressed in motley, high on horse he sat.
He made his comments solemnly, fully,
Boasting of profits ever increasing,
Wishing sea-trade secure, more than anything,
He could exchange monies, buy and sell.
This worthy man made such use of his wits;
No one knew he was beset by debts,
So stately his manner of behaving,
But truth to tell, I know not what he’s called.
A CLERK there was of Oxford town also,
Who had set himself to logic long ago.
 Thinner was his horse than many a rake,
And he was none too fat, I’ll undertake,
He would rather have at his bed-head
Twenty books, clad in black or red,
Of Aristotle and his philosophy,
Than rich robes, fiddle, and sweet psaltery.
But every single penny his friends lent,
On books and on learning it was spent,
He spoke not one word more than he need,
And that was formal, said with reverence,
Short, and quick, and in a noble sentence.
Agreeing with moral virtue all his speech,
And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.
A SERGEANT AT LAW, wise and cautious,
Often consulted at St Paul’s porch and such,
Was also there, rich in excellence.
His purchases were not the least suspect.
More business than he had, no man has,
And yet he seemed busier than he was.
Tied with a silken belt, its clasps of metal;
Of his array I will no further tell.
A FRANKLIN was in his company;
White was his beard as is the daisy.
To live in delight was ever his wont,
For he was Epicurus’ very son,
Who held the view that perfect delight
Was the true felicity outright.
Woe to his cook unless his sauces were
Pungent and tasty, and every dish prepared!
At court-sessions he was lord and sire;
And oftentimes was Member for the Shire.
A two-edged dagger and a purse of silk
Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk.
A Sheriff had he been, and a lawyer;
Nowhere lived so worthy a landowner.
A HABERDASHER, CARPENTER, a WEAVER
A DYER too, and TAPESTRY-MAKER,
Full fresh and new their costume was;
Their knives were mounted not with brass
But all with silver, wrought clean and well,
Their girdles and their pouches as befell.
For they had property enough and rent,
And wives too who would give their assent.
A COOK they had with them I own
To boil the chickens with the marrow-bones,
Well could he distinguish London ale;
He could roast and seethe and boil and fry,
Make thick soup and bake a tasty pie.
But a mortal pity, it seemed to me,
That on his shin an ulcerous sore had he.
A SHIPMAN was there, from out the west;
A Dartmouth man for all I understood.
He rode a hired hack, as best he could,
A dagger hanging on a cord had he,
About his neck, under his arm, and down.
The summer heat had tanned his visage brown.
And certainly he was a splendid fellow;
In many a tempest had his beard been shaken.
With us there was a DOCTOR OF PHYSIC.
In all this world none ever saw his like
On points of physic and of surgery,
For he was grounded in astronomy.
He knew the cause of every malady,
Whether of hot or cold, or moist and dry,
And where engendered, of what humour;
He was a truly perfect practitioner.
The cause known, and of the ill its root,
He gave the sick man remedy to suit.
He was well-versed in Aesculapius,
And Dioscorides and likewise Rufus,
Old Hippocrates, Hali and Galen,
Serapion, Rhazes and Avicen,
Averroes, Damascenus, Constantinus,
Bernard, and Gaddesden, and Gilbertus.
In red and blue, and colours of that ilk,
Lined with taffeta, was clad, and silk.
For gold in physic is a cordial;
Therefore he loved gold above all.
A good WIFE was there from next to BATH,
But pity was that she was somewhat deaf.
Had been a worthy woman all her life;
Husbands at the church-door she had five,
In fellowship she loved to laugh and chat;
And remedies for love she had, by chance,
For in that art she knew the oldest dance.
A holy man there was of good renown,
Who was a poor PARSON to a town,
But rich he was in holy thought and works.
He also was a learned man, a clerk,
And though he was holy and virtuous,
He did not scorn the sinful, nor because
Of it in speech was proud or over-fine,
But in his teaching was discreet, benign;
A better priest I think there nowhere none is.
He never looked for pomp or reverence,
With him there was a PLOUGHMAN, was his brother,
Many a load of dung, one time or other,
He had carted, a good true worker he,
Living in peace and perfect charity.
The MILLER was a strong man I own;
A stout fellow, big in brawn and bone.
It served him well, for, everywhere, the man,
At wrestling, always looked to win the ram.
His beard, as any sow or fox, was red,
And broad as well, as if it were a spade.
A sword and buckler he wore at his side.
His mouth as great was as a great furnace.
He stole corn, and made one toll pay three;
Yet had the golden thumb, a mystery!
The MANCIPLE was of the Inner Temple,
All purchasers might follow his example
 The REEVE was a slender, choleric man.
His beard was shaved as close as any can;
His hair by his ears was fully shorn;
The top was cropped like a priest before.
His legs were long, and very lean,
Like sticks they were – no calves to be seen.
His lord’s sheep, beef-cattle, and his dairy,
His swine, his horses, stock and poultry,
Was wholly in this Reeve’s governance
And he made reckoning by covenant,
Since his lord had only twenty years;
A SUMMONER was with us in that place,
Who had a fiery-red cherubim’s face,
Carbuncled so, and his eyes were narrow.
He was hot and lecherous as a sparrow,
With scabby black brows and scrubby beard;
Of his visage children were a-feared.
No ointment that would cleanse and bite,
Could cure him of his pimples white,
Well loved he garlic, onions, and leeks,
And to drink strong wine, as red as blood;
Making him speak, and cry, as madman would.
Then he would speak no word but Latin.
A few tags he had, some two or three,
That he had learned out of some decree –
No wonder, since he heard them every day.
He would teach him not to have a care
In such a case of the Archdeacon’s curse,
Unless a man’s soul lay in his purse,
For in his purse he should punished be.
But well I know he lied in what he said;
For his curse each guilty man should dread,
He had in his power as he pleased
All the young folk of the diocese,
Knew their secrets, they by him were led.
With him there rode a noble PARDONER
Of Charing Cross, his friend and his peer,
Returned directly from the Court of Rome.
The Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,
But smooth it hung like a hank of flax.
In clusters hung the locks he possessed,
With which his shoulders he overspread;
Dishevelled, save his cap, he rode all bare.
Such bulging eyeballs had he as a hare.
A pilgrim badge had he sewn on his cap;
His wallet lay before him in his lap,
Brimful of pardons, come from Rome hotfoot.
A voice he had as small as has a goat;
No beard had he, nor ever looked to have;
As smooth it were as it were lately shaved –
I judge he was a gelding or a mare.
Which he claimed was Our Lady’s veil;
He said he had a fragment of the sail
That Saint Peter used, when he skimmed
Upon the sea till Jesus summoned him.
He had a cross of brass set with stones,
And in a glass, he had pigs’ bones.
And with these relics, when he had to hand
Some poor parson living on the land,
In one day he gathered in more money
Than the parson in a month of Sundays.
He read a lesson well or a story,
But best of all he sang an Offertory.
For well he knew, when that song was sung,
He must preach and well tune his tongue
To win silver, as he well knew how;
Now I have told you in a brief clause,
The array, condition, number and the cause
Whereby assembled was this company,
In Southwark at that noble hostelry
Called The Tabard, fast by The Bell
Christ himself spoke plain in Holy Writ,
And you well know no coarseness is in it.
As Plato says, to any who can read,
The words must be cousin to the deed.
Our HOST made great cheer for everyone,
And down to supper set us all anon.
A handsome man our Host was withal,
And fit to be a marshal in a hall.
Bold in his speech, and wise, and well taught,
And of honest manhood he lacked naught.
Saying to us: ‘Now lordings, truly
To me you are right welcome, heartily!
For by my troth and telling you no lie,
I have not seen this year such folk go by
As gathered together in this tavern now.
And I would entertain, if I knew how,
Yet there is an entertainment, in my thoughts,
To amuse you and it will cost you naught.
But hear me out, I pray, without disdain –
Here is the point, to tell you short and plain:
That each of you, to speed you on your way,
On the journey there, shall tell two tales,
I will myself gladly with you ride,
All at my own cost, and be your guide.
And whoever my judgement does gainsay
Shall pay all that we spend by the way.
The thing was agreed, and our oath sworn
With right good heart, and we begged also
That he accordingly would do so,
And that he act then as our governor,
We all agreed to his true judgement.
And the wine was brought, thereupon
Next morning, when the day began to spring,
Up rose our Host and roused us like the cock,
And gathered us together in a flock;
And forth we rode, at barely walking-pace
To Saint Thomas, and his watering place.
Let us see who shall tell the first tale.
As ever I hope to drink wine and ale,
Whoever is a rebel to my judgement
Shall pay for all that on the way is spent.
Now draw a straw before our journeying;
And to tell you how it was, as I relate,
Whether by happenstance or chance or fate,
The truth is this: the lot fell to the Knight,
 THE KNIGHT’S TALE
‘And now after fierce battles with the Scythian people
(Theseus) nears home in his laurel-crowned (chariot) etc.’
There was a Duke whose name was Theseus.
Of Athens he was lord and governor,
And also her young sister Emily.
And so with victory and melody
I’ll let this noble Duke to Athens ride
And all his host in arms him beside.
Thanks be to Fortune and her fickle wheel,
That no estate lets full assurance feel.
I, wretched Queen, that weep and wail thus
Was once the wife of King Capaneus
Who died at Thebes – accursed be the day! –
He out of spite, and out of tyranny,
To do the dead bodies villainy
Of all our lords that have been slain,
Has all the bodies in a heap lain,
And will not give his order and assent
For them to be buried or be burnt,
But lets the dogs eat them, out of spite.’
And it so befell that in the heap they found,
Pierced with many a grievous bloody wound,
Two young knights, lying side by side,
Of whom, Arcita was the name of one,
That of the other knight was Palamon.
And in a tower, in anguish and in woe,
Dwelled this Arcita and this Palamon,
And says: ‘Arise, perform your observance!’
And this made Emily rouse her remembrance
Of the honour due to May, and so to rise.
Gathered flowers, mingled, white and red,
To make a woven garland for her head,
This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon,
Pacing the chamber, roaming to and fro
And to himself complaining of his woe;
That he was born, he often cried ‘alas!’
That through a window, thick with many a bar
Of iron large and square as any spar,
He cast his eye upon Emilia,
This gaol was not the reason for my cry,
But I was wounded now, through the eye
To the heart, it will be the death of me.
The beauty of that lady that I see
And at that word Arcita chanced to see
This lady as she roamed to and fro,
And at the sight her beauty hurt him so,
Duke Pirithous truly loved Arcita,
And knew him well at Thebes many a year,
And finally, at the request and prayer
Of Pirithous, without any ransom,
Duke Theseus let him out of prison,
Let him beware; his pledge is now his neck.
And was disguised as humbly as he was,
And to the court he went upon a day,
The which was dwelling there with Emily,
For he was wise and swiftly could espy
And Philostrate he named himself aright.
And half so well-beloved a man as he
There never was at court, of his degree.
This seven-year has lived our Palamon,
Pining away in sorrow and distress.
You will be killed, or else kill me;
You shall not have my lady Emily,
I alone will love her, no other so.
For I am Palamon, your, mortal foe,
And on the morrow, in the dawning light,
Two suits of armour readied for the fight
Each of them began to arm the other,
In as friendly a way as if it were his brother;
Frothing white with foam in angry mood;
Up to the ankles they fought in blood.
Be they for war, or peace, hate or love,
All are ruled by the vision that’s above.
And Theseus, full of joy and bliss
With his Hippolyta, the fair queen,
And Emily, clothed all in green,
Off to the hunt went riding royally.
And when the Duke reached the open land,
Under the sun he gazed, and at once
Was aware of Arcita and Palamon,
Fighting like a pair of bulls, they go.
The Palamon answered him speedily
But slay me first, for holy charity!
Then slay my fellow too, as well as me –
I know it of myself, in years now gone,
For in my time a servant I made one.
Never to harm my country, nor to war
Against me, whether by night or day,
But being friends to me, in all you may,
Slay his foe, or from the lists him drive,
Then shall he have Emily to wife
The joy that is revealed in that place,
Where Theseus has shown so fair a grace?
‘Fairest of Fair, O my lady Venus, - Palamon
Alas, I neither language have to tell
Of the effects, nor torments of my hell,
My heart may my hurt not display;
I am so confused what can I say
Yet at the last the statue of Venus shook
And gave a sign, from which event he took
Heart that his prayer accepted was that day.
The fires burned upon the altar clear
While Emily was thus in prayer,
But suddenly she saw a strange sight.
And at this point Diana did appear,
With bow in hand, dressed as a huntress,
And said: ‘Daughter, put away your sadness!
Among the gods on high it is affirmed,
And by eternal writ it is confirmed,
You shall be wedded to one of those
That suffer for you such pain and woe;
But unto which of them I may not tell.
I can remain no longer, fare you well.
Arcita to the temple paid a visit,
To fiery Mars, to make his sacrifice,
With all the rites meet to pagan eyes.
Who sorrows now but woeful Palamon,
Who can no more go in again and fight?
So ends Palamon and Emily,
And God save all this fair company! Amen.
 THE MAN OF LAW’S TALE
PROLOGUE
O hateful harm, condition of poverty,
With thirst, with cold, with hunger, so confounded!
To ask for help shames your heart wretchedly;
If you ask none, so sore then are you wounded
Hark to the opinion of the wise:
‘Better to die than live in indigence.
If you are poor, your brother hates you too,
And all your friends flee from you, alas!
TALE
In Syria once there dwelt a company
Of merchants rich, both dignified and true,
Now it happened that merchants of this sort
Decided that to Rome their way they’d wend.
‘Our Emperor of Rome, God save thee!
A daughter has, that since the world began,
Now it befell these merchants stood in grace
With him that was the Sultan of Syria;
Among other things, especially,
The merchants told him of Dame Constance
In stars many a winter long before
Was written the death of Hector, Achilles,
Of Pompey, Caesar, ere they were born;
This Sultan for his privy council sent,
And briefly through this matter to pace,
He declared to them his whole intent,
And said, unless he might have the grace
To win Constance within a little space,
And he replied: ‘Rather than I should lose
Constance, I would be christened, no less.
This same accord was sworn on either side.
Now, fair Constance, may God be your guide!
‘Father,’ she said, ‘your wretched child Constance,
Your young daughter used to life so soft,
And you, my mother, of delight the instance
Above all things, except for Christ aloft,
To ship is brought this woeful fair maid,
Solemnly, with royal circumstance.
‘Now Jesus Christ be with you all,’ she said.
The Sultan’s mother, a well of vices,
‘For, though his wife be christened never so white,
She shall have need to wash away the red,
Though she pour a font of water on her head.’
O Sultaness, root of iniquity,
Virago, Semiramis the second!
O serpent masked in femininity,
O Satan, envious since that day
When you were chased from our heritage,
‘On the glad day bear it well in mind
That unknown woe or harm comes on behind.’
For briefly for to tell, in a word,
The Sultan and the Christians every one
Were hacked to pieces, stabbed at the board,
Men might ask why then she was not slain
At the feast itself? Who did her body save?
And I reply to that demand again,
Who saved Daniel in the dreadful cave,
No one but God, whom he bore in his heart.
This Constable, when nought was left to seek,
Brought this woeful woman to the land.
The Constable, and Dame Hermengild his wife,
Were pagan, as was that country everywhere.
But Christian Britain was not so exiled
That there was not a few that secretly
Honoured Christ, and heathen folk beguiled;
‘In Christ’s name,’ cried out this blind Briton,
‘Dame Hermengild, give me my sight again!’
This lady grew fearful at the sound,
Lest her husband, briefly to explain,
Should for her love of Christ have her slain;
Constance answered: ‘Sir, it is Christ’s might,
Who helps folks from out the foul fiend’s snare.’
This knight, through Satan’s temptations
All stealthily towards the bed does go,
And at once slits Hermengild’s throat,
And lays the bloody knife by Dame Constance
Soon after comes the Constable home again,
Along with Alla, that king was of those lands,
A British Book, in which were the Gospels,
Was fetched, and on this book he swore anon
She guilty was, it instantly befell
That a hand smote him on the neck-bone,
And down he fell lifeless as a stone,
And said: ‘You have slandered the innocent,
A daughter of Holy Church in high presence.
So have you done, yet I remain silent!’
Donegild answered: ‘Not at this time, nay.
But here tonight I would you’d take your rest;
Tomorrow will I tell you all the rest.’
The wretched woman then was woebegone;
Her child cried, and she cried piteously.
But blessed Mary helped her right anon;
How could this frail woman have the strength
To defend herself against this renegade?
O Goliath, immeasurable in length,
How has David your might un-made,
King Alla, who had his mother slain,
Fell one day into such repentance
That, to tell you briefly, and explain,
To Rome he came, to do his penance,
Constance’s son went in his company.
King Alla in this child found a wonder,
Alla greeted his wife fair, when they met,
And wept so much it was pitiful to see;
And she for sorrow stood dumb as a tree,
So was her heart imprisoned by distress,
When she remembered all his harshness.
Twice she swooned before him in his sight,
He wept and sought her pardon piteously.
‘Now God,’ quoth he, ‘and all his saints bright,
As surely may on my soul have mercy
If of your harm not innocent am I
As is Maurice my son, so like in face –
Else the fiend may drag me from this place!’
And fare well now, my tale is at an end.
Now Jesus Christ, in His might may He send
Joy after woe, and govern us in His grace,
And protect us all that are in this place! Amen.
 THE WIFE OF BATH’S TALE ‘My liege lady, generally,’ quoth he,
Women desire the self-same sovereignty
In the olden days of King Arthur,
Over a husband as they do a lover,
Of whom Britons speak with great honour,
And to hold mastery, he not above her.
For wherever there used to walk an elf,
Nor widow who could challenge what he said,
There walks now the limiter himself
But said that he was worthy to have his life.
As he goes round his limitation’s bounds.
‘Mercy, ‘quoth she, ‘my sovereign lady queen;
Women may go safely up and down;
Ere that your court depart, see me aright.
In every bush or under every tree,
I taught this answer to this same knight,
There is no incubus about but he,
For which he plighted me his troth entire,
And it so befell that this King Arthur
That the first thing I should of him require
Had in his house a lusty bachelor
Quoth she, ‘that you take me as your wife,
He saw a maiden walking there at dawn,
For you know well that I have saved your life.
Of which maid, no matter how she pled,
For God’s love, now choose a fresh request!
By very force he stole her maidenhead;
Take all my goods, and let my body go.’
That this knight was condemned as dead
‘My love!’ quoth he, ‘nay, my damnation!
By court of law and set to lose his head –
There was only heaviness and much sorrow.
‘You yet stand,’ quoth she, ‘in such array
For secretly he wedded her that morrow,
That of your life you yet shall have no surety.
You are so ugly, and so old, and more
I grant you life though, if you can tell me
You come also of such a lowly kin,
What thing it is that women most desire.
That little wonder is I thrash and spin.
Beware and keep your neck from axe’s ire!
There will you find the greatest gentleman.
A twelve-month and a day, and everywhere
Christ wills we take from him our gentleness,
Seek answer sufficient to this matter there.
Not from our ancestors, despite their riches.
He sought at every house in every place
Yet can they still bequeath us nothing
Wherever he had hopes of finding grace,
Not one of us, of their virtuous living,
To learn what thing women love the most;
That made them gentlemen in name to be,
Some said women had most love of riches;
Who bade us follow them in that degree.
Some said honour, some said happiness;
For, God knows, men will often find
Some rich array, some said lust abed,
A lord’s son acting shameful villainy.
And oft times to be widowed and to wed.
Choose now,’ quoth she, ‘which of these to try:
Some said that our heart is most eased
To see me old and ugly till I die,
When we are flattered most and pleased.
And be to you a true and humble wife,
Witness old Midas – will you hear the tale?
Who never will displease you all my life,
Ovid, amongst his great and small ale,
Or else you may have me young and fair,
Says Midas had, under his long hair,
And take the risk that all those who repair
Upon his head two ass’s ears there;
To our house are there because of me,
That save his wife, none knew it was so.
And to other places, it well may be.
He loved her best, and trusted her also;
He begged her that to no creature
‘My lady and my love, and wife so dear,
She would tell of this sad feature.
I place myself in your wise governance.
But nevertheless she almost died
Choose yourself which is the most pleasant,
At having this secret so long to hide.
And brings most honour to me and you.
She laid her mouth to the water down.
‘Betray me not, water, with your sound!’
‘Then have I won the mastery,’ quoth she,
Quoth she, ‘I tell it now, but just to you:
‘Since I may choose and govern as I wish?’
My husband has long ass’s ears two!
‘Yes, surely, wife,’ quoth he, ‘I hold that best.’
Now is my heart all whole; now is it out.
‘Kiss me,’ quoth she, ‘and no more wrath.
I could no longer hide it, have no doubt.’
For, by my troth, I to you will be both –
The remainder of the tale, if you would hear,
That is to say, both fair and good.
Read Ovid, and you will find it there.
A thousand times in a row they kiss,
No creature saw he that showed sign of life,
And she obeyed him in everything
Save, sitting on the green, an old wife –
That pleased him and was to his liking.
A fouler one than her might none devise.
‘My dear mother,’ quoth the knight, ‘for certain
And thus they lived to their lives end
I am a dead man, unless I can show plain
In perfect joy – and Jesus Christ us send
What thing it is that women most desire.
Husbands meek, young, and fresh abed,
Then she whispered something in his ear,
And grace to outlive those that we wed.
And bade him to be glad and have no fear.
 THE PHYSICIAN’S TALE
There was, or so says Titus Livius,
A knight, who was named Virginius,
This knight had a daughter by his wife;
He’d had no other child throughout his life.
Fair was this maid, of outstanding beauty
Beyond all others whom a man might see;
For Nature had with sovereign diligence
Created her of such great excellence
Fourteen years of age was then this maid,
In whom Nature took such great delight;
So that she flowered in her virginity
With true humility and abstinence,
With true temperance and with patience,
Restrained in her behaviour and array.
You fathers, and you mothers too, also,
Whether you have one child or more, know
You’re responsible for their surveillance
While they remain within your governance.
They perish by your example; I dare say
If they do so, then shall you dearly pay.
And it befell, that the judge his eyes cast
Upon this maid, his gaze there held fast,
As she passed the place in which he stood.
Anon his heart changed and his mood.
‘This maid shall be mine, before any man!’
That he knew well he might never win
Her mind or body to indulge in sin.
He sent for a rogue living in the town,
Home went the rogue, his name was Claudius.
The false judge, whose name was Appius –
Such was his name, for this is no fable,
The judge replied: ‘In the defendant’s absence
I cannot bring this new case to sentence.
Summon him, then you I’ll gladly hear;
You shall have justice, not injustice here.’
My servant, one who is my thrall by right,
One that was stolen from my house by night
When she was very young; this will I prove
By witnesses, my lord, if you approve.
She’s not his child, whatever he may say.
The man shall have his thrall, so I award.’
‘Daughter,’ quoth he, ‘Virginia, by thy name,
There are two ways before you, death or shame,
O gem of chastity, with quiet patience
Embrace your death: such is my sentence.
‘Blessed be God that I shall die a maid!
Grant me death, before I come to shame.
Struck off her head, gripped the hair, and went
To seek the judge, so as to present
Her head to him, being judge and jury,
And so to seek this Appius had they gone,
To throw him into prison right anon,
Where he slew himself; and Claudius,
Who was the servant to this Appius,
Was sentenced to hang upon a tree,
But Virginius, out of clemency,
Prayed that instead he might be exiled;
THE PARDONER’S TALE
In Flanders once there was a company
Of younger folk given all to folly,
Such as riot, gambling, brothels, taverns,
Where to the harps and lutes, and to citherns,
And ate and drank more than wise men might,
With superfluity abominable.
Their oaths were so great and damnable
Seneca too says a good thing, doubtless:
He says, there’s no difference he can find
Between some fellow who has lost his mind
And one who is a drunkard through and through,
O gluttony, so full of wickedness!
Corrupted was this world by gluttony.
Adam our father, and his wife also,
From Paradise, to labour and to woe,
Were driven for that vice, it’s so indeed.
O drunken man, disfigured is your face,
Sour is your breath, and foul is your embrace!
Gambling’s the very mother of lying,
And of deceit and cursed forswearing,
These three profligates of whom I tell,
Long before prime rang out from any bell,
Had sat down in a tavern for a drink.
‘Sire,’ quoth the boy, ‘no need that they tell;
I heard it before you came these two hours,
He was, in truth, an old friend of yours,
Who was suddenly slain the other night,
Drunk, as he lay upon his bench upright.
And we shall slay this false traitor Death!
Together the three their troth did plight,
To live and die each of them for the other,
As though he were his own born brother,
Why are you all cloaked save for your face?
Why have you lived so long, in your old age?’
No death, alas, will take away my life!
So I wander on, wretched, and in strife,
‘You leave us not so lightly, by Saint John!
You spoke just now of that traitor Death,
Who in this country steals away men’s breath;
For in that grove I left him, by my faith,
Under a tree, and there he will abide;
See you that oak? Just there you shall him find.
That down they sat beside the precious hoard.
‘Brethren’ quoth he, ‘take note of what I say;
My wit is great, though I may jest and play.
This treasure now to us has Fortune given,
In mirth and jollity our life to live: then,
Rise as though with him you would play;
And I will stab him through the side, this way,
And so the two rogues agreed, and they
Planned to slay the third, as you heard say.
‘O Lord,’ quoth he, ‘if only that I might
Have all this treasure for myself alone,
And into two the poison then poured he;
The third he left empty for his drink,
O treacherous homicide, O wickedness!
O gluttony, gambling, and lechery!
And as we did before, let’s laugh and play.’
Anon they kissed, and rode forth on their way.
 Utopia
DISCOURSES OF RAPHAEL HYTHLODAY, OF THE BEST STATE
OF A COMMONWEALTH (BOOK I)
Henry VIII, the unconquered King of England, a prince
adorned with all the virtues that become a great monarch,
having some differences of no small consequence with
Charles the most serene Prince of Castile, sent me into
Flanders, as his ambassador, for treating and composing
matters between them. I was colleague and companion to
that incomparable man Cuthbert Tonstal, whom the King,
with such universal applause, lately made Master of the
Rolls; but of whom I will say nothing; not because I fear
that the testimony of a friend will be suspected, but rather
because his learning and virtues are too great for me to do
them justice, and so well known, that they need not my
commendations, unless I would, according to the proverb,
“Show the sun with a lantern”.
…for he has not sailed as a seaman, but as a traveller, or
rather a philosopher. This Raphael, who from his family
carries the name of Hythloday, is not ignorant of the Latin
tongue, but is eminently learned in the Greek, having
applied himself more particularly to that than to the
former, because he had given himself much to philosophy,
But, as they went farther, a new scene opened, all things
grew milder, the air less burning, the soil more verdant,
and even the beasts were less wild: and, at last, there
were nations, towns, and cities, that had not only mutual
commerce among themselves and with their neighbours,
but traded, both by sea and land, to very remote
countries. There they found the conveniencies of seeing
many countries on all hands, for no ship went any voyage
into which he and his companions were not very welcome.
The first vessels that they saw were flat-bottomed, their
sails were made of reeds and wicker, woven close
together, only some were of leather; but, afterwards, they
found ships made with round keels and canvas sails, and in
all respects like our ships, and the seamen understood
both astronomy and navigation. He got wonderfully into
their favour by showing them the use of the needle, of
which till then they were utterly ignorant. They sailed
before with great caution, and only in summer time; but
now they count all seasons alike, trusting wholly to the
loadstone, in which they are, perhaps, more secure than
safe;
…I think my friends ought to rest contented with this,
and not to expect that for their sakes I should enslave
myself to any king whatsoever.
Now I live as I will, to which I believe, few courtiers can
pretend;
One day, when I was dining with him, there happened to
be at table one of the English lawyers, who took occasion
to run out in a high commendation of the severe execution
of justice upon thieves, ‘who,’ as he said, ‘were then
hanged so fast that there were sometimes twenty on one
gibbet!’ and, upon that, he said, ‘he could not wonder
enough how it came to pass that, since so few escaped,
there were yet so many thieves left, who were still robbing
in all places.’
…simple theft not being so great a crime that it ought to
cost a man his life;
There are dreadful punishments enacted against thieves,
but it were much better to make such good provisions by
which every man might be put in a method how to live,
and so be preserved from the fatal necessity of stealing
and of dying for it.’
said I, ‘for many lose their limbs in civil or foreign wars,
as lately in the Cornish rebellion, and some time ago in
your wars with France, who, being thus mutilated in the
service of their king and country, can no more follow their
old trades, and are too old to learn new ones; but since
wars are only accidental things, and have intervals, let us
consider those things that fall out every day.
There is a great number of noblemen among you that are
themselves as idle as drones, that subsist on other men’s
labour, on the labour of their tenants, whom, to raise their
revenues, they pare to the quick.
for your lords are readier to feed idle people than to take
care of the sick; …Now, when the stomachs of those that
are thus turned out of doors grow keen, they rob no less
keenly;
They think raw men are not to be depended on, and they
sometimes seek occasions for making war, that they may
train up their soldiers in the art of cutting throats, or, as
Sallust observed, “for keeping their hands in use, that they
may not grow dull by too long an intermission.”
‘The increase of pasture,’ said I, ‘by which your sheep,
which are naturally mild, and easily kept in order, may be
said now to devour men and unpeople, not only villages,
but towns;
One shepherd can look after a flock, which will stock an
extent of ground that would require many hands if it were
to be ploughed and reaped. This, likewise, in many places
raises the price of corn. The price of wool is also so risen
that the poor people, who were wont to make cloth, are
no more able to buy it; and this, likewise, makes many of
them idle:
…for, as they sell the cattle dear, so, if they are
consumed faster than the breeding countries from which
they are brought can afford them, then the stock must
decrease, and this must needs end in great scarcity; and by
these means, this your island, which seemed as to this
particular the happiest in the world, will suffer much by
the cursed avarice of a few persons: besides this, the rising
of corn makes all people lessen their families as much as
they can; and what can those who are dismissed by them
do but either beg or rob?
Upon these reasons it is, that I think putting thieves to
death is not lawful; and it is plain and obvious that it is
absurd and of ill consequence to the commonwealth that
a thief and a murderer should be equally punished;
“But as to the question, ‘What more convenient way of
punishment can be found?’ I think it much easier to find
out that than to invent anything that is worse; why should
we doubt but the way that was so long in use among the
old Romans, who understood so well the arts of
government, was very proper for their punishment? They
condemned such as they found guilty of great crimes to
work their whole lives in quarries, or to dig in mines with
chains about them.
… in Persia… according to the genius of their country,
have no inclination to enlarge their borders
 Those that are found guilty of theft among them are
bound to make restitution to the owner, and not, as it is in
other places, to the prince, for they reckon that the prince
has no more right to the stolen goods than the thief;
… and they themselves are condemned to serve in the
public works, but are neither imprisoned nor chained,
unless there happens to be some extraordinary
circumstance in their crimes.
They go about loose and free, working for the public: if
they are idle or backward to work they are whipped, but if
they work hard they are well used and treated without any
mark of reproach; … They suffer no other uneasiness but
this of constant labour;
Their friends are allowed to give them either meat, drink,
or clothes, so they are of their proper colour; but it is
death, both to the giver and taker, if they give them
money; nor is it less penal for any freeman to take money
from them upon any account whatsoever: and it is also
death for any of these slaves (so they are called) to
handle arms.
There was a Jester standing by, that counterfeited the
fool so naturally that he seemed to be really one; the jests
which he offered were so cold and dull that we laughed
more at him than at them, yet sometimes he said, as it
were by chance, things that were not unpleasant, so as to
justify the old proverb, ‘That he who throws the dice often,
will sometimes have a lucky hit.’
…for the poor whom sickness or old age had disabled
from labour, ‘Leave that to me,’ said the Fool, ‘and I shall
take care of them, for there is no sort of people whose
sight I abhor more, having been so often vexed with them
and with their sad complaints;
OF THEIR TOWNS, PARTICULARLY OF AMAUROT
He that knows one of their towns knows them all—they
are so like one another, except where the situation makes
some difference. I shall therefore describe one of them,
and none is so proper as Amaurot;
Its figure is almost square…
The town is compassed with a high and thick wall, in
which there are many towers and forts; there is also a
broad and deep dry ditch, set thick with thorns, cast round
three sides of the town, and the river is instead of a ditch
on the fourth side. The streets are very convenient for all
carriage, and are well sheltered from the winds. Their
buildings are good, and are so uniform that a whole side of
a street looks like one house. The streets are twenty feet
broad; there lie gardens behind all their houses. These are
large, but enclosed with buildings, that on all hands face
the streets, so that every house has both a door to the
street and a back door to the garden.
There being no property among them, every man may
freely enter into any house whatsoever. At every ten
years’ end they shift their houses by lots. They cultivate
their gardens with great care, so that they have both vines,
fruits, herbs, and flowers in them; and all is so well
ordered and so finely kept that I never saw gardens
anywhere that were both so fruitful and so beautiful as
theirs.
So that he who founded the town seems to have taken
care of nothing more than of their gardens; for they say
the whole scheme of the town was designed at first by
Utopus, but he left all that belonged to the ornament and
improvement of it to be added by those that should come
after him, that being too much for one man to bring to
perfection.
But now their houses are three storeys high, the fronts of
them are faced either with stone, plastering, or brick, and
between the facings of their walls they throw in their
rubbish. Their roofs are flat, and on them they lay a sort of
plaster, which costs very little, and yet is so tempered that
it is not apt to take fire, and yet resists the weather more
than lead.
OF THEIR MAGISTRATES
“Thirty families choose every year a magistrate, who was
anciently called the Syphogrant, but is now called the
Philarch; and over every ten Syphogrants, with the families
subject to them, there is another magistrate, who was
anciently called the Tranibore, but of late the Archphilarch.
The Prince is for life, unless he is removed upon
suspicion of some design to enslave the people.
There are always two Syphogrants called into the council
chamber, and these are changed every day. It is a
fundamental rule of their government, that no conclusion
can be made in anything that relates to the public till it has
been first debated three several days in their council.
It is death for any to meet and consult concerning the
State, unless it be either in their ordinary council, or in the
assembly of the whole body of the people.
One rule observed in their council is, never to debate a
thing on the same day in which it is first proposed
OF THEIR TRADES, AND MANNER OF LIFE
Agriculture is that which is so universally understood
among them that no person, either man or woman, is
ignorant of it; they are instructed in it from their
childhood, partly by what they learn at school, and partly
by practice, they being led out often into the fields about
the town, where they not only see others at work but are
likewise exercised in it themselves.
Besides agriculture, … every man has some peculiar
trade to which he applies himself; such as the
manufacture of wool or flax, masonry, smith’s work, or
carpenter’s work; for there is no sort of trade that is in
great esteem among them.
Throughout the island they wear the same sort of
clothes, without any other distinction except what is
necessary to distinguish the two sexes and the married
and unmarried.
The fashion never alters, and as it is neither disagreeable
nor uneasy, so it is suited to the climate, and calculated
both for their summers and winters.
The same trade generally passes down from father to
son, inclinations often following descent: but if any man’s
genius lies another way he is, by adoption, translated into
a family that deals in the trade to which he is inclined;
…yet they do not wear themselves out with perpetual
toil from morning to night, as if they were beasts of
burden, which as it is indeed a heavy slavery, so it is
everywhere the common course of life amongst all
mechanics except the Utopians: but they, dividing the day
and night into twenty-four hours, appoint six of these for
work, three of which are before dinner and three after;
they then sup, and at eight o’clock, counting from noon,
go to bed and sleep eight hours: the rest of their time,
besides that taken up in work, eating, and sleeping, is left
to every man’s discretion;
And thus from the great numbers among them that are
neither suffered to be idle nor to be employed in any
fruitless labour, you may easily make the estimate how
much may be done in those few hours in which they are
obliged to labour.
But among the Utopians all things are so regulated that
men very seldom build upon a new piece of ground, and
are not only very quick in repairing their houses, but show
their foresight in preventing their decay, so that their
buildings are preserved very long with but very little
labour, and thus the builders, to whom that care belongs,
are often without employment, except the hewing of
timber and the squaring of stones, that the materials may
be in readiness for raising a building very suddenly when
there is any occasion for it.
While in other places four or five upper garments of
woollen cloth of different colours, and as many vests of
silk, will scarce serve one man, and while those that are
nicer think ten too few, every man there is content with
one, which very often serves him two years; nor is there
anything that can tempt a man to desire more, for if he
had them he would neither be the, warmer nor would he
make one jot the better appearance for it.
OF THEIR TRAFFIC
provision is made that none of their cities may contain
above six thousand families, besides those of the country
around it. No family may have less than ten and more
than sixteen persons in it, but there can be no determined
number for the children under age; this rule is easily
observed by removing some of the children of a more
fruitful couple to any other family that does not abound so
much in them.
if they find that the inhabitants have more soil than they
can well cultivate, they fix a colony, taking the inhabitants
into their society if they are willing to live with them;
But if the natives refuse to conform themselves to their
laws they drive them out of those bounds which they mark
out for themselves, and use force if they resist, for they
account it a very just cause of war for a nation to hinder
others from possessing a part of that soil of which they
make no use, but which is suffered to lie idle and
uncultivated, since every man has, by the law of nature, a
right to such a waste portion of the earth as is necessary
for his subsistence.
But to return to their manner of living in society: the
oldest man of every family, as has been already said, is its
governor; wives serve their husbands, and children their
parents, and always the younger serves the elder.
After the steward of the hospitals has taken for the sick
whatsoever the physician prescribes, then the best things
that are left in the market are distributed equally among
the halls in proportion to their numbers; only, in the first
place, they serve the Prince, the Chief Priest, the
Tranibors, the Ambassadors, and strangers, if there are
any, which, indeed, falls out but seldom.
All the uneasy and sordid services about these halls are
performed by their slaves; but the dressing and cooking
their meat, and the ordering their tables, belong only to
the women, all those of every family taking it by turns.
Every child is nursed by its own mother if death or
sickness does not intervene;
Both dinner and supper are begun with some lecture of
morality that is read to them; but it is so short that it is not
tedious nor uneasy to them to hear it.
They never sup without music, and there is always fruit
served up after meat; while they are at table some burn
perfumes and sprinkle about fragrant ointments and
sweet waters—in short, they want nothing that may cheer
up their spirits;
OF THE TRAVELLING OF THE UTOPIANS
It is certain that all things appear incredible to us in
proportion as they differ from known customs; but one
who can judge aright will not wonder to find that, since
their constitution differs so much from ours, their value of
gold and silver should be measured by a very different
standard; for since they have no use for money among
themselves, but keep it as a provision against events which
seldom happen, and between which there are generally
long intervening intervals, they value it no farther than it
deserves—that is, in proportion to its use.
…and thus they take care by all possible means to render
gold and silver of no esteem;
But after the ambassadors had stayed a day among
them, and saw so vast a quantity of gold in their houses
(which was as much despised by them as it was esteemed
in other nations), and beheld more gold and silver in the
chains and fetters of one slave than all their ornaments
amounted to, their plumes fell, and they were ashamed of
all that glory for which they had formed valued
themselves, and accordingly laid it aside—
But their chief dispute is concerning the happiness of a
man, and wherein it consists—whether in some one thing
or in a great many. They seem, indeed, more inclinable to
that opinion that places, if not the whole, yet the chief
part, of a man’s happiness in pleasure;
“These are their religious principles:—That the soul of
man is immortal, and that God of His goodness has
designed that it should be happy; and that He has,
therefore, appointed rewards for good and virtuous
actions, and punishments for vice, to be distributed after
this life.
Among those foolish pursuers of pleasure they reckon all
that delight in hunting, in fowling, or gaming, of whose
madness they have only heard, for they have no such
things among them. But they have asked us, ‘What sort of
pleasure is it that men can find in throwing the dice?’ (for
if there were any pleasure in it, they think the doing it so
often should give one a surfeit of it).
“They reckon up several sorts of pleasures, which they
call true ones; some belong to the body, and others to the
mind. The pleasures of the mind lie in knowledge, and in
that delight which the contemplation of truth carries with
it; to which they add the joyful reflections on a well-spent
life, and the assured hopes of a future happiness. They
divide the pleasures of the body into two sorts—the one is
that which gives our senses some real delight, and is
performed either by recruiting Nature and supplying those
parts which feed the internal heat of life by eating and
drinking, or when Nature is eased of any surcharge that
oppresses it, when we are relieved from sudden pain, or
that which arises from satisfying the appetite which
Nature has wisely given to lead us to the propagation of
the species.
But, of all pleasures, they esteem those to be most
valuable that lie in the mind, the chief of which arise out
of true virtue and the witness of a good conscience.
This is their notion of virtue and of pleasure: they think
that no man’s reason can carry him to a truer idea of them
unless some discovery from heaven should inspire him
with sublimer notions.
In three years’ time they became masters of the whole
language, so that they read the best of the Greek authors
very exactly. I am, indeed, apt to think that they learned
that language the more easily from its having some
relation to their own. I believe that they were a colony of
the Greeks;
They esteem Plutarch highly, and were much taken with
Lucian’s wit and with his pleasant way of writing. As for
the poets, they have Aristophanes, Homer, Euripides, and
Sophocles of Aldus’s edition; and for historians,
Thucydides, Herodotus, and Herodian.
We showed them some books printed by Aldus, we
explained to them the way of making paper and the
mystery of printing; but, as we had never practised these
arts, we described them in a crude and superficial manner.
OF THEIR SLAVES, AND OF THEIR MARRIAGES
They do not make slaves of prisoners of war, except
those that are taken in battle, nor of the sons of their
slaves, nor of those of other nations: the slaves among
them are only such as are condemned to that state of life
for the commission of some crime, or, which is more
common, such as their merchants find condemned to die
in those parts to which they trade, whom they sometimes
redeem at low rates, and in other places have them for
nothing.
Their women are not married before eighteen nor their
men before two-and-twenty, and if any of them run into
forbidden embraces before marriage they are severely
punished, and the privilege of marriage is denied them
unless they can obtain a special warrant from the Prince.
There was so much the more reason for them to make a
regulation in this matter, because they are the only people
of those parts that neither allow of polygamy nor of
divorces, except in the case of adultery or insufferable
perverseness
Their law does not determine the punishment for other
crimes, but that is left to the Senate, to temper it
according to the circumstances of the fact.
They have no lawyers among them, for they consider
them as a sort of people whose profession it is to disguise
matters and to wrest the laws, and, therefore, they think it
is much better that every man should plead his own cause,
and trust it to the judge,
OF THEIR MILITARY DISCIPLINE
They detest war as a very brutal thing, and which, to the
reproach of human nature, is more practised by men than
by any sort of beasts.
They, indeed, help their friends not only in defensive but
also in offensive wars; but they never do that unless they
had been consulted before the breach was made…
And in no victory do they glory so much as in that which
is gained by dexterity and good conduct without
bloodshed. In such cases they appoint public triumphs,
and erect trophies to the honour of those who have
succeeded;
The only design of the Utopians in war is to obtain that
by force which, if it had been granted them in time,
would have prevented the war;
As soon as they declare war, they take care to have a
great many schedules, that are sealed with their common
seal, affixed in the most conspicuous places of their
enemies’ country.
But as they keep their gold and silver only for such an
occasion, so, when that offers itself, they easily part with
it; since it would be no convenience to them, though they
should reserve nothing of it to themselves.
It is hard to tell whether they are more dexterous in
laying or avoiding ambushes.
OF THE RELIGIONS OF THE UTOPIANS
There are several sorts of religions, not only in different
parts of the island, but even in every town; some
worshipping the sun, others the moon or one of the
planets. Some worship such men as have been eminent in
former times for virtue or glory, not only as ordinary
deities, but as the supreme god.
Yet the greater and wiser sort of them worship none of
these, but adore one eternal, invisible, infinite, and
incomprehensible Deity
After they had heard from us an account of the doctrine,
the course of life, and the miracles of Christ, and of the
wonderful constancy of so many martyrs, whose blood, so
willingly offered up by them, was the chief occasion of
spreading their religion over a vast number of nations, it is
not to be imagined how inclined they were to receive it.
They despise and laugh at auguries, and the other vain
and superstitious ways of divination, so much observed
among other nations;
Of these there are two sorts: some live unmarried and
chaste, and abstain from eating any sort of flesh; and thus
weaning themselves from all the pleasures of the present
life, which they account hurtful, they pursue, even by the
hardest and painfullest methods possible, that blessedness
which they hope for hereafter.
The first and the last day of the month, and of the year,
is a festival; they measure their months by the course of
the moon, and their years by the course of the sun: the
first days are called in their language the Cynemernes, and
the last the Trapemernes.
They have magnificent temples, that are not only nobly
built, but extremely spacious, which is the more necessary
as they have so few of them.
They offer up no living creature in sacrifice
 THE TRAGICAL HISTORY OF D. FAUSTUS
Only this, gentlemen,-we must perform
The form of Faustus' fortunes, good or bad:
Is, to dispute well, logic's chiefest end?
Affords this art no greater miracle?
Then read no more; thou hast attain'd that end:
A greater subject fitteth Faustus' wit:
The end of physic is our body's health.
Why, Faustus, hast thou not attain'd that end?
If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves,
Ay, we must die an everlasting death.
All things that move between the quiet poles
Shall be at my command: emperors and kings
Are but obeyed in their several provinces,
Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds;
Be thou on earth as Jove is in the sky,
Lord and commander of these elements.
How am I glutted with conceit of this!
Shall I make spirits fetch me what I please,
I charge thee wait upon me whilst I live,
To do whatever Faustus shall command,
Be it to make the moon drop from her sphere,
Or the ocean to overwhelm the world.
For, when we hear one rack the name of God,
Abjure the Scriptures and his Saviour Christ,
We fly, in hope, to get his glorious soul;
Why, this is hell, nor am I out of it.
Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God,
And tasted the eternal joys of heaven,
Am not tormented with ten thousand hells,
In being depriv'd of everlasting bliss?
Learn thou of Faustus manly fortitude,
And scorn those joys thou never shalt possess.
Say, he surrenders up to him his soul,
So he will spare him four-and-twenty years,
To give me whatsoever I shall ask,
To tell me whatsoever I demand,
To slay mine enemies, and aid my friends,
Had I as many souls as there be stars,
I'd give them all for Mephistophilis:
That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives,
So he will buy my service with his soul.
And write a deed of gift with thine own blood;
For that security craves great Lucifer.
If thou deny it, I will back to hell.
Enlarge his kingdom
O, what will not I do to obtain his soul! [Aside]
I'll fetch him somewhat to delight his mind. [Aside]
yet fain would I have a book wherein I might behold all
spells and incantations.
that I might raise up spirits when I please.
When I behold the heavens, then I repent,
And curse thee, wicked Mephistophilis,
Because thou hast depriv'd me of those joys.
'Twas made for man, therefore is man more excellent.
G. Ang. Faustus, repent; yet God will pity thee.
E. Ang. Thou art a spirit; God cannot pity thee.
Tell me, are there many heavens above the moon?
Are all celestial bodies but one globe,
As is the substance of this centric earth?
All jointly move from east to west in twenty-four hours
upon the poles of the world; but differ in their motion
upon the poles of the zodiac.
Hath Mephistophilis no greater skill?
Who knows not the double motion of the planets?
Well, I am answered. Tell me who made the world?
Move me not, for I will not tell thee.
Villain, have I not bound thee to tell me anything?
G. Ang. Never too late, if Faustus can repent,
Ah, Christ, my Saviour,
Seek to save distressed Faustus' soul!
O, who art thou that look'st so terrible?
Faustus, examine them of their several names and
dispositions.
I am Pride.
I am Covetousness
I am Wrath
I am Envy
I am Gluttony
I am Sloth
Lechery
O, might I see hell, and return again,
How happy were I then!
Luc. Thou shalt; I will send for thee at midnight.
In meantime take this book; peruse it thoroughly,
And thou shalt turn thyself into what shape thou wilt.
bring Alexander and his paramour before the Emperor!
Faust. Ah, my sweet chamber-fellow, had I lived with thee,
then had I lived still! but now I die eternally. Look, comes
he not? comes he not?
Lucifer and Mephistophilis. Ah, gentlemen, I gave them my
soul for my cunning!
Faust. God forbade it, indeed; but Faustus hath done it
My God, my God, look not so fierce on me!
Adders and serpents, let me breathe a while!
Ugly hell, gape not! come not, Lucifer!
I'll burn my books!--Ah, Mephistophilis!
Chor. Cut is the branch that might have grown full straight,
And burned is Apollo's laurel-bough,
That sometime grew within this learned man.
Faustus is gone: regard his hellish fall,
Whose fiendful fortune may exhort the wise,
Only to wonder at unlawful things,
Whose deepness doth entice such forward wits
To practise more than heavenly power permits.
 THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET, PRINCE OF
DENMARK
HAMLET
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God!
How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable,
Seem to me all the uses of this world!
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on: and yet, within a month--
Let me not think on't--Frailty, thy name is woman!--
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she follow'd my poor father's body,
Like Niobe, all tears:--why she, even she--
O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn'd longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules: within a month:
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not nor it cannot come to good:
But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.
I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
OPHELIA
He took me by the wrist and held me hard;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm;
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face
As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;
At last, a little shaking of mine arm
And thrice his head thus waving up and down,
He raised a sigh so piteous and profound
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk
And end his being: that done, he lets me go:
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;
For out o' doors he went without their helps,
And, to the last, bended their light on me.
KING CLAUDIUS
Welcome, dear Rosencrantz and Guildenstern!
To draw him on to pleasures, and to gather,
So much as from occasion you may glean,
Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him thus,
That, open'd, lies within our remedy.
HAMLET
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers;
I have not art to reckon my groans: but that
I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
LORD POLONIUS
'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star;
This must not be:' and then I precepts gave her,
That she should lock herself from his resort,
Admit no messengers, receive no tokens.
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice;
HAMLET
Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be
one man picked out of ten thousand.
You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will
more willingly part withal: except my life, except
my life, except my life.
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players
Play something like the murder of my father
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks;
I'll tent him to the quick: if he but blench,
I know my course. The spirit that I have seen
May be the devil: and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and perhaps
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,
As he is very potent with such spirits,
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative than this: the play 's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
PRINCE FORTINBRAS
Let four captains
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have proved most royally: and, for his passage,
The soldiers' music and the rites of war
Speak loudly for him.
Take up the bodies: such a sight as this
Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
 ROMEO AND JULIET O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop
To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;
ROMEO Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,
But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? To make die with a restorative.
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Kisses him
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Thy lips are warm.
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . . Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars Snatching ROMEO's dagger
As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven This is thy sheath;
Would through the airy region stream so bright Stabs herself
That birds would sing and think it were not night. there rust, and let me die.

JULIET PRINCE
O Romeo, Romeo, A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
wherefore art thou Romeo? The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:
Deny thy father and refuse thy name, Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet. For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
MERCUTIO
O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . .
She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes
In shape no bigger than an agate stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomi
Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep

CHORUS
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life,
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife. . . .

ROMEO
O, I am fortune’s fool! . . .
Then I defy you, stars.

Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!

Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.

Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!

Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Here's to my love!

O true apothecary!
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

JULIET
O comfortable friar! where is my lord?
I do remember well where I should be,
And there I am. Where is my Romeo?

What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?

Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:
 THE SONNETS
Sonnet I
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty’s rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:
Sonnet XVII
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
So should my papers yellow'd with their age
Be scorn'd like old men of less truth than tongue,
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice; in it and in my rhyme.
Sonnet CXXX
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Sonnet CXLV
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
“I hate” she altered with an end
“I hate” from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying “not you.”

Sonnet XVIII Sonnet CXLVII

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
Sonnet XXX
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Sonnet CLIV
The little love-god lying once asleep
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
The fairest votary took up that fire,
Growing a bath and healthful remedy
For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall,
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove:
Love’s fire heats water; water cools not love.

Sonnet LIV
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.

Sonnet LXVI
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

Sonnet LXXXVI
Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
But when your countenance fill'd up his line,
Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine.

Sonnet CXXVII
In the old age black was not counted fair,
For since each hand hath put on nature's power,
Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face,
Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe,
That every tongue says beauty should look so.