The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer modernis'd by several hands. Publsh'd by Mr. Oggle |
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PROLOGUE TO THE REVE's TALE. |
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 | The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer |  |
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PROLOGUE TO THE REVE's TALE.
By Mr. OGLE.
The
Miller ceas'd, exulting at the Close,
And, as He ceas'd, a gen'ral Laugh arose;
For hum'rous was the Tale, tho' low the Stile,
Ev'n They, that blush'd to laugh, agreed to smile.
Each, various, variously discuss'd the Case;
The Scholar's Payment, and the Clerk's Disgrace!
The frisky Wife's Elopement in the Dark,
And the dull Husband, lodg'd in Noah's Ark!
Not One, but peevish Oswolde, seem'd to grieve,
Of Craft, a Carpenter, as well as Reve.
Hence, many a Fault he found, and more he made;
The Tale was a Reflection on the Trade!—
So lash the lewdest Varlet of the Gown,
You raise the Spleen of ev'ry Priest in Town.
And, as He ceas'd, a gen'ral Laugh arose;
For hum'rous was the Tale, tho' low the Stile,
Ev'n They, that blush'd to laugh, agreed to smile.
Each, various, variously discuss'd the Case;
The Scholar's Payment, and the Clerk's Disgrace!
The frisky Wife's Elopement in the Dark,
And the dull Husband, lodg'd in Noah's Ark!
Not One, but peevish Oswolde, seem'd to grieve,
Of Craft, a Carpenter, as well as Reve.
Hence, many a Fault he found, and more he made;
The Tale was a Reflection on the Trade!—
230
You raise the Spleen of ev'ry Priest in Town.
“For Wit, said He, was Ribaldry to pass,
“Full on the Miller cou'd I turn the Glass.
“But Old I am! Sport suits but ill with Age!
“And He too verges on his latter Stage.
“Past is the Spring that Heav'n to Me assign'd!
“He thinks a second Crop remains behind.
“Poor Forage at the Best! (I scorn all Art,—)
“Nor will it keep the Steed in Flesh, or Heart.
“This Top of Snow my Wintry State declares,
“My Spirits fail me faster than my Hairs.
“Yet some in Age affect the Wanton Play,
“As if improv'd, like Medlars, by Decay;
“(The Fruit, that, till it rots, is never ripe!)
“But, ah! so long we dance, as we can pipe!
“Woman indeed, like Leeks, may last a-bed;
“Green at the Tail, tho' hoary at the Head.
“But for the Man that toils with Limbs declin'd,
“What shows he but a teazing Itch of Mind?
“Hands cease to move, and Feet forget to walk,
“But not the Heart to wish, or Tongue to talk;
“With Ashes loaded still survives Desire,
“A Spark of What he was, a Mark of Fire!
“Decrepid Age, you may as well defy,
“Or not to fret, or hoard, or vaunt, or lye,
“As not to covet what it priz'd in Youth;
“Last falls, of all the Teeth, the Coltish Tooth!
“Full many a Year (for so my Thread was spun)
“Has ended, since my Tap of Life begun.
“Death, present at my Birth, (that Early Foe!)
“Drew forth the Cock, and bade the Current flow.
“Fast has it ran, but will no longer run,
“I feel it, almost empty is the Tun!
“The Liquor, be it us'd, or be it spilt,
“Is gone; the Cask stands high upon the Tilt!
“When sinks the Body to so low a State,
“Ill may the silly Tongue pretend to prate;
“The Wish to please will scarce the Pow'r restore;
“That Fancy is meer Dotage, and no more.
“Full on the Miller cou'd I turn the Glass.
“But Old I am! Sport suits but ill with Age!
“And He too verges on his latter Stage.
“Past is the Spring that Heav'n to Me assign'd!
“He thinks a second Crop remains behind.
“Poor Forage at the Best! (I scorn all Art,—)
“Nor will it keep the Steed in Flesh, or Heart.
“This Top of Snow my Wintry State declares,
“My Spirits fail me faster than my Hairs.
“Yet some in Age affect the Wanton Play,
“As if improv'd, like Medlars, by Decay;
“(The Fruit, that, till it rots, is never ripe!)
“But, ah! so long we dance, as we can pipe!
“Woman indeed, like Leeks, may last a-bed;
“Green at the Tail, tho' hoary at the Head.
“But for the Man that toils with Limbs declin'd,
“What shows he but a teazing Itch of Mind?
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“But not the Heart to wish, or Tongue to talk;
“With Ashes loaded still survives Desire,
“A Spark of What he was, a Mark of Fire!
“Decrepid Age, you may as well defy,
“Or not to fret, or hoard, or vaunt, or lye,
“As not to covet what it priz'd in Youth;
“Last falls, of all the Teeth, the Coltish Tooth!
“Full many a Year (for so my Thread was spun)
“Has ended, since my Tap of Life begun.
“Death, present at my Birth, (that Early Foe!)
“Drew forth the Cock, and bade the Current flow.
“Fast has it ran, but will no longer run,
“I feel it, almost empty is the Tun!
“The Liquor, be it us'd, or be it spilt,
“Is gone; the Cask stands high upon the Tilt!
“When sinks the Body to so low a State,
“Ill may the silly Tongue pretend to prate;
“The Wish to please will scarce the Pow'r restore;
“That Fancy is meer Dotage, and no more.
232
Our Host, while little Oswolde tun'd his String,
Began to look as Lordly as a King.
‘To what amounts this Sermonizing Wit?
‘All day will you descant on Holy Writ?
‘The Dev'l, I think, has mov'd a Reve to preach;
‘A Cobler might as well a Souter teach;
‘Physicians, o'er the Seas, our Merchants guide;
‘Or Sailors show our Jockeys how to ride.
Began to look as Lordly as a King.
‘To what amounts this Sermonizing Wit?
‘All day will you descant on Holy Writ?
‘The Dev'l, I think, has mov'd a Reve to preach;
‘A Cobler might as well a Souter teach;
‘Physicians, o'er the Seas, our Merchants guide;
‘Or Sailors show our Jockeys how to ride.
‘Begin, at once, your Tale, nor waste our Time!
‘It wants but little of half way to Prime,
‘And lo! where Deptford rises full in View!
‘Lo! Greenwich, the Abode of many a Shrew!’
‘It wants but little of half way to Prime,
‘And lo! where Deptford rises full in View!
‘Lo! Greenwich, the Abode of many a Shrew!’
“Sirs, quoth the Reve, then favour my Request,
“If saucy Jest be pay'd with saucy Jest,
“Full largely on a Miller while I dwell;
“For Force, with Force, 'tis lawful to repell.
“If saucy Jest be pay'd with saucy Jest,
“Full largely on a Miller while I dwell;
“For Force, with Force, 'tis lawful to repell.
“This Drunkard, (for he needs no other Name)
“Has brought an honest Carpenter to shame.
“Nor is it hard his Motive to divine,
“The Trade, that He abus'd, He knew was mine.
“Has brought an honest Carpenter to shame.
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“The Trade, that He abus'd, He knew was mine.
“So Wits play Wits, and Fools by Fools are shown;
“Each hits his Neighbour's Case, but not his own.
“The Beam, that blinds him, let him first descry,
“Then pluck the Mote from out his Brother's Eye.”
“Each hits his Neighbour's Case, but not his own.
“The Beam, that blinds him, let him first descry,
“Then pluck the Mote from out his Brother's Eye.”
End of the Prologue.
| The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer | |