University of Virginia Library

What needs there more our Pilgrims to describe,
Our Southwark Guests? A mix'd, but merry Tribe.
Their various Looks and Talents to display?
Their Sex and Age? Their Number and Array?
Whom pious Zeal, or fashionable Course,
Drew from their Homes, here resting Man and Horse.
Here well to rest! As Trav'lers witness well,
A friendly House! The Tabarde by the Bell.

And here it falls in Order to recite,
First, how in social Cheer we pass'd the Night;
Next how, with common Voice, and early Day,
Our Troop to Canterbury took their Way;
And last the Progress of our Pilgrims tell;
With each Adventure duly as it fell.

But let me first your due Indulgence claim,
Lest this my Freedom you unjustly blame;
Where loose the Subject, or where rude the Speech:
For we pretend to copy, not to teach.
Who tells Another's Tale, in Verse or Prose,
Nigh as He can shou'd ev'ry Word disclose;
For be it ne'er so wanton, or at large,
Such are the Facts, and you must give the Charge.
This Rule infring'd (by Law and Reason known)
The Tale is not Another's, but your Own.
All Evidence is strict, all Trial plain,
A Witness shou'd repeat, but never feign.
If new the Conduct, or the Language new;
The Stamp re-touch'd, the Coinage is untrue.
To This, Whate'er the Standard Sense affords,
Requires exact Similitude of Words.
Apt Words are shap'd, fix'd Objects to express;
For Language is no more than Nature's Dress.
If some that Love's exalted Colors wear,
Capriciously offend the virtuous Ear;
Or heedlessly the Virgin Cheek inflame,
'Tis faulty Modesty! Mistaken Shame!
If right the Laws that free-born Tongues inslave,
And force to veil what Nature publick gave,
Then Nature err'd, deform'd the Human Frame
With Parts dishonest, horrible to Name!
But that great Nature err'd! Who dares pretend?
Why, shou'd the just Description then offend?
Form'd by the wisest Plan each Part is found,
And Voice was giv'n to fit each Part to Sound.
Hence various Words by well-tun'd Accents wrought,
Stamp on the Ears the Figures of the Thought,
And fix the airy Progress e'er it flies,
As Painting is the Language of the Eyes.
The Skilfull Artist, lab'ring to display
The bright Effulgence of Meridian Day,
With strongest Colours strikes the burnish'd Light,
The darker Shades reserv'd for Sullen Night.
The Poet thus that treats of am'rous Wile,
Or wanton Theft, must heighten all his Stile,
To raise warm Passions, warm Descriptions raise,
And keep for cooler Sense, the cooler Phrase!
Nor arbitrary deem these stated Rules,
The Random Doctrines of Illib'ral Schools.
The best Philosophers like Tenets hold,
Christian and Heathen! Both the New and Old.
Read Plato, Plato says (if Thou canst read)
“The Word must be adapted to the Deed.”
And oft full broad the Phrase of Holy Writ,
Heathen and Christian must this Truth admit.

Others perhaps, with happier Talents blest,
Our Breach of due Decorum may contest:
In Poems well dispos'd they may maintain,
Rank shou'd be kept, as in a public Train.
And None too forward, None too backward stand;
But Band, with due Distinctions, follow Band.
“Nor Rank, nor File, our rude Militia mind,
“Some stray, 'tis true, before, and some behind.”
If This excuse not; on the Truth We rest,
“Low was our Genius, and We did our Best.
“And tho' a Fault, I speak without Offence)
“Yet sure a Venial Fault, is Want of Sense.”

But to return. Great Joy our Host express'd,
Thrice-heartily He welcom'd ev'ry Guest.
And goodly Cheer prepar'd with equal Haste;
(He of two Ills had rather pray than fast.)
Nor less, the Plague or Comfort of his Life,
Judge as Ye list! His busy-stirring Wife.
Anon was Supper serv'd, and neatly drest,
In Season ev'ry Dish, and of the Best.
Strong was the Ale, with Toast and Nutmeg crown'd,
Pure was the Wine! And both went briskly round.

Frank was our Host. A comely Man withal,
A Marshall fit for any noble Hall,
Where many a graceless Page is left in Charge,
Round was his Body, nor more round than large.
His sturdy Legs, tho' slow, just Measure keep!
A fairer Burgess never trod the Cheap!
Tho' bold of Speech; Yet not more bold than wise!
His Wits awake, and watchful as his Eyes!
Loud when He laugh'd! and hearty when He spoke!
His Voice was Mirth! His very Look a Joke!

When now the Rage of Hunger was allay'd;
And, what more joy'd our Host, our Reck'ning paid.
“Thrice welcome (He began) both Great and Small!
“Bright Lords and Ladies fair! Thrice welcome all!
“Full many a Noon has pass'd, full many a Night,
“Since in this Inn appear'd so brave a Sight.
“A braver, never wish these Eyes to see!
“Such Guests! so full of Honor and of Glee!
“Fain wou'd I raise your Mirth, had I but Skill;
“Or were my Talent equal to my Will.
“Yet let not the Intent be wholly lost;
“I mean not here to please You at your Cost.
“To Canterbury, early You proceed;
“And may the blissfull Saint your Wishes speed.
“But if the Good and Bad You justly weigh,
“Long must the Road, and tedious seem the Day;
“For 'tis but dull to travel, You must own,
“Mute as a Fish, and senseless as a Stone.

“Be mine such luckless Silence to prevent;
“Attend but my Award with one Consent.
“For, by my Father's Body, long since dead;
“Mirth You shall have, at Forfeit of my Head:
“If none, my Wish too willfully withstands,
“In witness of your Minds hold up your Hands!”

Here waiting the Event, He ceas'd to speak;
Our gen'ral Counsel was not long to seek:
For why shou'd We reject his honest Suit,
The Purport far from worthy the Dispute?
We vote the Journey as he shou'd advise;
In trivial Things, 'tis Foolish to be Wise.

Then thus our Host his Speech renew'd again,
“The Point, ye Nobles, take not in Disdain.
“The Road to shorten, and deceive the Day,
“(For Mirth makes Mirth, and Play gives Rise to Play)
“I will that Each, by Turns, two Stories tell,
“Of strange Adventures, which of old befell.
“One e'er Your each Saint Thomas' sacred Shrine;
“And one, e'er You regain the Tabarde Sign.
“Then farther, be it solemnly agreed;
“That He, that in his Place shall best succeed:
“Whose Close is held most just, whose Phrase most fit,
“For Profit or Delight, for Sense or Wit.
“His be a Supper at the common Cost;
“Here, in this Host'lry, sitting by this Post.
“And more, to aid your Sport, myself will ride,
“And be at once your Governor and Guide;
“Content the shar'd Expences to maintain;
“Not grudgingly. Such Company is Gain.
“But first enact; that He that disobeys
“My Will, the common Charge, convicted pays.
“This is my Verdict. E'er We further go,
“Pass Sentence, One and All! Your Aye, or No!”

Consent, from One and All, the Question bore;
And jointly, as our Host requir'd, We swore.
Nay more, We vote Him in the Chair of State,
Sole Umpire of the Tales We should relate.
Submiss in All to follow his Advice,
We fix a Supper at a stated Price.
Pleas'd was our Host; Success improves Design!
Pleas'd were the Guests; and loud they call'd for Wine.
Smooth ev'ry Brow, and easy every Breast;
Each took his cordial Draught, and went to Rest.

When scarce the blushing Morn had streak'd the Skies
With earliest Day, our Host began to rise;
And strait his Guests he gather'd in a Flock,
As stirs his Common Mates the feather'd Cock.
Then forth We sally'd with an easy Pace,
Some low of Spirits, sober most of Face:
Till jointly, to the Sacred Ford we came,
Known, good Saint Thomas, by thy Guardian Name.
There, at thy Stream, to many a thirsty Steed
Free-giv'n, our Host, forebade us to proceed.
And, silencing a-while his jingling Bit,
Arrests his Horse; All readily submit;
And circle him around on ev'ry Side:
When loud as any Chanter thus he cry'd.

“As Morning Song, and Ev'ning Song agree,
“Both High and Low attend to my Decree,
“Pay here such Duty as by Vote you pass'd,
“Then sweetly shall we chime from first to last.
“Be this the Spot to cast the foremost Tale;
“And may these Lips nor relish Wine nor Ale
“(What more I dread, or dread not less than Death;
“For want of Liquor is like Want of Breath.)
“As he that dares against my Will offend,
“Pays All, (for thus you swore) that All expend.
“Now Chance decide, who loses, or who wins!
“Who draws the shortest Lot, the first begins.

“Sir Knight, he said, my Master and my Lord,
“Draw forth, I mean your Fortune, not your Sword!
“And gentle Dame, with one Accord appear,
“Come near, my Lady Prioress, come near!
“And you, Sir Clerk, look up, take Heart of Grace;
“Put off that Book-learn'd Bashfulness of Face!
“And Males and Females, all, alike lay Hand.”
And all alike submit to his Command.

Suffice, that on the Knight the Forfeit fell;
Or were it Chance, or Fate; who knows may tell.
Nor know We, nor can tell; yet, for the Best,
Suppose, it fortun'd. Glad were all the rest:
As tho' not freed, yet of their Burthen eas'd:
Nor seem'd the noble Knight in Look displeas'd,
Or griev'd in Thought: The noble Knight was wise:
Whether Concern he cover'd with Disguise,
Or from Experience had acquir'd Content.
For Care is vain, unless it can prevent.
“If then, by Me, the Sport must be begun,
“Thrice welcome Lot (he said) not lost but won!
“Then, ride and listen, to the Croud, he cry'd;”
And, at the Word, We listen, as We ride.
While, nor with vulgar Speech, nor Gesture rude,
This Tale of Love and Honour he pursu'd.