# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 73

Layout 2
LXXIII
This tells how Dido, mighty Queen Of Carthage, racked with sorrow keen For that great love she suffered through Æneas, with a sword-thrust slew13890 Herself, and how fair Phillis won A cruel death through Demophon.
Dido great queen of Carthage, strove Vainly to keep Æneas’ love, ​Who owed to her whate’er he had, For she received him when the sad City of Troy in flames he fled, And reached her shores to misery wed. His comrades dealt she no small share
Of honour, for the love she bare13890 To him, and hade his ships refit, With many a storm, bulged, torn, and split; And in her passion vowed that he Lord of her realm and self should be; In, turn, great oaths Æneas swore His heart was hers for evermore, And soul and body would he give Io her, and in her love would live.
Tragedy of Dido Alas! small joy her kindness sped; Ere long, the faithless lover fled13900 O’er the bright sea without one word To her, who died whenso she heard His treachery, for she straight withdrew Into her chamber, and pierced through Her loving heart with selfsame sword He erst had borne, her love and lord.
Unhappy Dido, who in mind Still kept her traitorous love unkind, Seized the bright blade, and as she stood Naked, the point with hardihood13910 Thrust ’neath her breasts, twin hills of snow, And fell thereon to end her woe. O grievous sight, O sad to see! Full hard of heart that man must be, ​Who could behold, with heart unmoved, How thus her constancy was proved Towards the treacherous man through whom Her joyous life met death’s grim doom.
Legend of fair women And Phillis fair, who did await Her Demophon, disconsolate,13920 And, for he came not, with a cord Sought death, since false she proved his word.
Of Paris and Œnone hear— She, body and soul, forgetting fear, Gave up to him; with what return? Alas! her love he did but spurn. Small letters on the trees he cut To tell her of his flitting; but Her love reflected not his heart; He less esteemed it than a tart.13930 These letters were right skilfully Engraven on a poplar tree. And said, till Xanthus sought again His source, he faithful would remain; Alas! though that did ne’er occur, For Helen he deserted her.
Was not Medea, beauteous maid, By Jason treacherously betrayed, Who perjured him, though she, to save His life, both home and honour gave,13940 When the fierce bulls with breath of fire Would work on him destruction dire? She braved the flames with subtle charms, Subdued the beasts and saved from harms ​Her lover; then the dragon dread Her song soothed till he slumbered, Nor from that sleep awaked he more Till Jason gained the golden store. And when earth’s warriors, wild and fierce, Would fain his heart with swordpoint pierce, Her sorcery and magic skill13951 Did so that host with madness fill That, when amid them Jason threw A stone, no man his fellow knew But all in desperate combat fought Till each from each his death-blow bought, And so the Golden Fleece she wan For that well-loved, but false-heart man. That comfort he might have, forsooth, His father Æson unto youth13960 Restored she, and the sole reward She asked him was, that he would toward Her love return his love again. Alas! fond hope! misplaced and vain. His false heart soon forgot the good She wrought, in loving hardihood. And in the ending set above Her head a new and younger love. Medea’s revenge Hearing hereof she could not brook Her wretchedness, but madly took13970 Her children, (in her sore distress Blind to a mother’s tenderness,) And strangled them, more ruthless she Than stepdames oft have proved to be.
A thousand more such tales could I Relate, but time too swift doth fly. ​These ribalds all play double parts, And to a thousand give their hearts, And wherefore should not women do The same, and love as freely too?13980 She’s but a fool, who fixes on One man, and clings to him alone, A woman should have hosts of friends, And play them all, to serve her ends, ’Gainst one another. If no grace She hath, ’tis well she set her face To gain it, and should be most high And haughty unto those who try To please her best, and towards those be Most kind, who treat her distantly.13990
A woman’s arts Fair sports and songs ’tis hers to know. And strife and reprimands forego. If she be plain, by dainty dress. Should she repair ill-favouredness; And should it hap, to her dismay. Her thick blond tresses fall away, Or even though they have not dropped By nature, they have needs been cropped By reason of some malady, And thus her beauty wasted be;14000 Or if some ribald, anger led, Hath torn the hair from off her head, With rage so cruel as to leave No locks she can in braidings weave; Then, with a view to clothe her pate, Hair must she get of one who late Hath died, or yellow silk must tie Beneath neat fillets skilfully. ​Above her ears she’ll bear such horns As neither stags or unicorns14010 Could boast if they should dare to plight Themselves with her in deadly fight. Or if she have the need to dye Her hair, she should most carefully Choose the right plants; leaves, bark, and root, Will each the varied purpose suit.
Beauty’s devices And lest her bloom of cheek grow pale, Whereat her spirit well might fail, She should within her chamber keep Sweet unguents, that she thence may reap14020 A secret freshness; yet have care They are not known by sight or flair To lovers, or ’twould breed despite. If she hath neck and bosom white, Then let her cut her bodice low, Her fair and dazzling skin to show, Two palms behind and eke before, There’s no device attracts men more. If she hath shoulders set too high Judges of form to satisfy14030 At balls and routs, fine lawn I guess Would lessen their unseemliness. If hands she hath nor fine nor fair, But corned and blistered here and there, ’Twere well, that with a bodkin she Should dress and tend them carefully, Or better still, with gloves should hide Defects—no man need pry inside. And if her breasts too ample grow, A swathe-cloth should she bind below14040 ​To bear them up, and hold them tight Against her chest. When thus she’s dight She’ll find that she can move with ease, And lightly dance, if so she please.
To hide defects And, if a dainty, well-bred quean, Her Venus chamber keeps she clean; No spider webs will there be found, And things unseemly from the ground She’ll sweep, dust, burn, and clear away, E’en as a thrifty housewife may.14050 Is her leg ugly? ne’er ’tis bare. Too large her foot? ’tis shod with care. More wily she than e’er neglect To hide with skill the least defect. If she be cursed with noisome breath, It doth not worry her to death, But heed she taketh not to speak To any till her fast she break, And careful is her mouth ne’er goes Too closely towards her lover’s nose.14060 When laughter doth provoke her, so She laughs that two sweet dimples show About her mouth, on either side, The which she never opes right wide In laughing, but conceals beneath A well-set smile, her doubtful teeth. A woman if she laugh or smile Should keep her mouth close shut the while,
For if too wide she open it It looks as though her checks were slit;14070 And if her teeth are nothing grand, But crossed and out of order stand, ​’Tis just as well that they remain Fast hid, would she not win disdain. Of women’s tears Women should learn to cry with grace, But they so oft find time and place For tears, I need not teach them how To weep, that soon enough they trow, For every woman in her eye Stores tears, and one and all can cry14080 At will. A man should not disturb Himself thereat, but check and curb His pity, even though he sees The tears fall fast as rain from trees. When women cry at will, ’tis not That they some cruel grief have got, But mere vexation and chagrin That some vile trick they’re baffled in. A woman’s tears are but a trap, Oft-times they flow for no ill hap,14090 But with desire that she may nought By word or deed betray her thought.
She should behave her when at table In manner fit and convenable; But should, ere yet she takes her place, ’Fore all the household show her face, To let those present understand That she much business hath in hand. Hither and thither should she flit And be the last of all to sit,14100 Making the company await While scanneth she each dish and plate; And when at last down sitteth she, On each and all her eye should be. ​Before the guests should she divide The bread and see each one supplied. Then let her know the heart to win Of some one guest by putting in His platter dainty morsels, or A wing or leg of fowl before14110 Him sets she, or with choicest slice Of pork or beef will she entice His appetite, or savoury fish, If of the day that be the dish. No stint she makes, if he permits, To ply his taste with choicest bits.
Manners at table ’Tis well she take especial care That in the sauce her fingers ne’er She dip beyond the joint, nor soil Her lips with garlick, sops, or oil,14120 Nor heap up gobbets and then charge Her mouth with pieces overlarge, And only with the finger point Should touch the bit she’d fain anoint With sauce, white, yellow, brown, or green, And lift it towards her mouth between Finger and thumb with care and skill,
That she no sauce or morsel spill About her breast-cloth. Then her cup She should so gracefully lift up14130 Towards her mouth that not a gout By any chance doth fall about Her vesture, or for glutton rude. By such unseemly habitude, ​Might she be deemed. Nor should she set Lips to her cup while food is yet Within her mouth. And first should she Her upper lip wipe delicately, Lest, having drunk, a grease-formed groat Were seen upon the wine to float.14140 Drink moderately She should not take one long-breathed draught, Whether from cup or hanap quaffed, But gently taste with sipping soft Now and again, but not too oft, Though thirst impels, at large should drink, Lest those around perchance should think Or say, if she the cup should clutch With eager haste: She drinks too much; Therefore should she the tempting tide Resist, nor grip the goblet’s side14150 Like some of that fat matron crew, So gluttonous and boorish, who Pour wine adown their cavernous throats Enough to fill a horseman’s boots, Till lastly are their gullets full, And all their senses drowned and dull. She should avoid all such excess As leadeth on to drunkenness, For drunken folk no secrets keep, And if a woman drinketh deep14160 She leaves herself without defence, And jangles much with little sense. To any man she falls a prey When thus her wits she casts away. ​She should not at the table close Her eyes in sleep, nor even doze, For many a strange untoward thing Hath happed to dames thus slumbering; Such places are not made for sleep, ’Tis wiser far good watch to keep,14170 For often folk mishaps have known Thus sleeping: many have tumbled down Supine, or prone, or on the side, And grievous hurt sustained, or died: She should, who feels disposed to wink, Of Palinurus’ ending think, Who governed well Æneas’ helm Until he fell within the realm Of Morpheus, then straight toppled he From off the ship, and in the sea14180 Was drowned before his comrades’ eyes, Who mourned his watery obsequies.
Time goes quickly Woman should gather roses ere Time’s ceaseless foot o’ertaketh her, For if too long she make delay, Her chance of love may pass away, And well it is she seek it while Health, strength, and youth around her smile. To pluck the fruits of love in youth Is each wise woman’s rule forsooth,14190 For when age creepeth o’er us, hence Go also the sweet joys of sense, And ill doth she her days employ Who lets life pass without love’s joy. And if my counsel she despise, Not knowing how ’tis just and wise, ​Too late, alas! will she repent When age is come, and beauty spent. But witful women will believe My words, and thankfully receive14200 My counsels and my rules will foster With care, and many a paternoster Say for my soul’s health when I die For teaching them so worthily. Well know I that these golden rules Shall long be taught in noblest schools.
Makes known love’s precepts Fair son, if long you see earth’s light, Most clearly I perceive you’ll write My laws and precepts in a book, And many a time therein will look,14210 Please God, when hence from me you’re gone And, duly pondering thereupon, In knowledge shall outrival me, And, e’en as I, a teacher be, Despite the highest chancellors, In halls, in chambers and boudoirs, In copse, and garden-close and field Or nooks by friendly curtains sealed. And let your scholars learn my lore, In wardrobe-room and threshing-floor,14220 In stables or out-offices, Failing of better spots than these, And there my precepts should be read, When you their force have mastered. Abroad a woman oft should go, For all the less that she doth show Herself, the fewer men will press Around to seek her loveliness, ​And sooner she’ll be left in lurch, ’Twere well she haunt the minster church,14230 And visitations oft attend, And marriages, and duly wend In high processions; fêtes and plays Should she frequent on holidays, For in such places, rathe and late, Venus and Cupid celebrate Woman’s attire High mass. But erst should she in glass, Upon her tiring, judgment pass, And when she deems it quite the thing Should sally forth philandering,14240 With dignified and high regard, Not over meek, nor yet too hard, Pleasant of look, with modest eye, Nor over-forward, nor too shy. Her shoulders and her hips should move So gracefully that all approve Her progress as of beauty’s queen. Upon her well-shaped feet I ween. Most carefully-made boots she’ll set. Whereof the joints so well are met,14250 That, not a plait or crease will show, But on her legs they’d seem to grow; And if her costly garment trail Along the road, she will not fail Both fore and aft with studied care To raise it, as she’d catch the air, Or, as she knows right well to do, She just uplifts her gown a few Short inches, quicker pace to suit, Disclosing thus her winsome foot,14260 ​With hope that all the passers by Its mignon form and turn may spy.
Woman’s attire In case she doth a mantle wear, She should upon her shoulders bear It so, that it but little hides The contour of her shapely sides. And also that she better may Her body’s shape, and clothes, display, (Which neither thick nor thin should be, But pearled, and broidered gallantly14270 With silver, and an alms-purse tied, In view of all, against her side,) Her mantle upwards towards her head Should she with straightened arms outspread, Whether the way be foul or clean, After the fashion she has seen A peacock spread his tail; she may So sport the mantle, whether grey Or green it chance to be, that thus She shows her figure amorous14280 To all the gallants that she meets As sails she through the crowded streets.
Should Nature have forgot to trace The line of beauty in her face, Her golden locks she will, if wise, Display to dazzle suitors’ eyes In comely plaits about her neck. Nothing doth women better deck And crown, than glory of the hair.
Women should imitate with care14290 ​The tactics of the wolf; when she A sheep would seize with certainty, That she of one may make her sure A hundred must her fangs endure. A woman, likewise, should her net So spread as many a man to get Within her toils; but seen she nought Can tell which ’tis that may be caught, With view at very least to fix One man, on all should play her tricks.14300 It scarce can happen otherwise, But that among the fools she tries By thousands, she must find some one To do all that she would have done. Nay, many, for ’tis truly said Art lends to nature potent aid.
A woman’s policy And if she several hooketh in, Who equally her grace would win, Most carefully should she arrange The meeting hours to interchange,14310 For if two happed to come together, Good chance there were of stormy weather, And danger is, they seeing through Her scheme, she fail of both the two, Shamed and abased, and what e’en worse She’d count, lose hold on each one’s purse. But not to any should she give The chance to keep enough to live, But unto such condition bring Her lovers, that of everything14320 Stripped bare, they’d have no choice but die In hunger, debt, and misery. ​Of every penny let her reive them, For ’tis her loss if aught she leave the m. From poor and needy men should she Have special care to keep her free; Ovid or Homer void of cash Would not be worth a cat’s eyelash.
Beware of tra­vellers A traveller should she never give Her heart to, for as he doth live14330 Now here, now there, e’en so will he Affection shift as easily As he his body doth. If wise My counsel will she so far prize As let no guest her fancy take, But if, while sojourning, he make Of jewels, gold, or gems fair offer, Let her secure them, locked in coffer, And then may she fulfil his pleasure, Whether in haste or at her leisure.14840 Above all else should she beware She set her love on that man ne’er Who in his beauty taketh pride; Such imbeciles the Gods deride And scorn, for thus saith Ptolemy, A master of all science he: “Such man hath nought of love in him, With selfish pride his heart’s abrim, The love that he to one declares, In turn he to another swears,14350 And many a woman treateth ill, For all he meets he’ll spoil and pill:” And many a damsel have I heard Cry shame on such an one’s false word. ​Should some loud promiser appear, Whether a trickster or sincere, And seek to gain her love with great And solemn vows his life and fate To link with hers,—so be it; but Let her be wary not to put14360 Herself within his power, unless He doth a well-filled purse possess. And if love-letters one indite, Let her weigh closely if he write With false intention, or his mood Of heart be honest, pure, and good; Then let her forward a reply— After a pause—coy, short, and shy; Delay but brings a lover on, Yet that were lightly overdone,14370 And when a lover’s suit is pressed, ’Tis wise that she awhile protest Reluctance, not the whole refuse, But coyly smirk and half excuse, Now hold him off, now draw him near, In balance kept ’twixt hope and fear.
A woman’s wiles As he more vehement doth grow, More hesitation should she show, Seeing that she his heart doth hold Tightly as in a serpent’s fold,14380 Resisting by all means she can, Assured reluctance doth but fan His flame, then by degrees her fear Subsides, and she should soothe and cheer His heart with many a tender word, And so they come to sweet accord. ​And then will she his heart beguile, By God and all the saints the while Swearing that only he at last Hath all her scruples overpast,14390 And cries: “Fulfilled is now your hope, But, by the faith I owe the Pope, I yield to you for love alone, Through presents had you never won My virgin heart; the man lives not Who e’er through gifts my love had got, You only have full favour found Of all the host that fluttered round. Ah! wicked one, who knew to pitch The note that might my soul bewitch.”14400 Lightly won lightly held And then, the dotard to deceive, Sweet clips and kisses should she give. But, if she follows my advice, She boldly will demand her price, And is a fool unless she win All that he hath outside his skin, For she the best beloved will be Who strips a man most ruthlessly. The more that women make men pay, The more, far more, beloved are they;14410 For that which lightly is obtained, Is never looked upon when gained Above the value of a straw, A thing of nought, a mere gewgaw. But if a worthless thing cost much, That a man holds with hardfist clutch.
To fleece a gull may many aid: Her valets, and her chambermaid, ​Her sister, nurse, and many another, And e’en with equal zest her mother14420 Will need anointing in the palms To quiet conscientious qualms; Robes, mantles, gloves, and such delights, They’ll pounce upon like ravening kites. When once the victim’s in their grip, With utter ruthlessness they’ll strip Their prey, till scarce doth he possess A rag to hide his nakedness. Jewels and gold he’ll give as though Nuts were they off a hazel bough.14430 Assistant harpies Soon comes the banquet to an end, When many mouths assistance lend, And then they cry aloud: “Good sir, ’Twere well you should your purse-strings stir To give our lady something new Of vesture; doth it trouble you So little? By St. Giles, I know One who for her would quickly show His bounty, she through him, I ween, Might drive her carriage like a queen!”14440 And to the damsel would they say: “Wherefore then make you such delay To ask more gifts? Why not more bold? His love to you grows slack and cold.” And she, though with their words content, Should bid that they such speech forewent, Vowing she hath no fault to find, Unless ’tis that he’s overkind. But if she note that he’s aware That ruin in his face doth stare,14450 ​And soon must he to beggary fall Since in her lap he’s cast his all, She judges she may spare the task More costly gifts from him to ask; Yet should implore him as her friend That to relieve her needs he’ll lend His credit, and on given day Swear that the whole will she repay. But all return would be by me Forbidden most unflinchingly.14460
She pleads poverty Then if among her friends she find A second suited to her mind (For though she many a friend hath got She keeps herself heart-whole I wot), To him should she declare amain That she her best gown hath been fain To leave in pawn, alas, for her! While daily to the usurer Must she resort, whereat is she Distressed and troubled grievously,14470 And nought need he expect increase Of favour, but if he release Her pledges. If ’neath folly’s curse He lies, and bears a brimming purse, He’ll dip his hand therein, or take Some means to borrow for her sake The sum she needs, which is in truth No sum whate’er, since she forsooth Hath got her best robes locked away Secure from dust and light of day,14480 Yet impudently bids him look On every perch, and search each nook ​The victim plucked bare If he to trust her word disdain, And so she gets the gold amain. For a last squeezing she demands A silver girdle at his hands, Or wimple fair, to deck her head, And gold her follies to bestead. If he, unable to supply Such things, yet seeks to satisfy14490 Her cravings, by expressing sorrow And bezants vows to bring to-morrow, To all his promises should she Her ears shut fast inexorably.
All men are naturally liars— In dear days past vile flatterers More oaths towards me have used to leaven Their lies, than are there saints in heaven.
If no gold pieces he can spin, At least can he some wine send in14500 On credit, or if not, he may Take himself off, elsewhere to play.
Unless a woman’s void of sense, Of shrinking fear she’ll make pretence, Affect to tremble, shake and shiver, And ’neath quick apprehensions quiver When she receiveth furtively Her friend, and let him plainly see The dangers she for him doth dare, Saying, were spouse and friends aware14510 Of that she doth, most surely they, Surprising them, would make her pay With life the fond affection she Bears towards him, while alas! that he ​If found there would beyond all doubt Still living see her heart torn out: And then he surely will remain When once within her toils he’s ta’en.
’Tis well she should remember when Her friend she may expect again;14520 And if there’s no one on the watch Let her undo the window latch (Although the door serves better far), Swearing the while that lost they are, And may account themselves as dead Should they be thus discoverèd. For neither buckler, club, nor glaive For one short hour their lives could save, Nor secret chambers guarantee But what they should dismembered be.14530
Pretended jealousy And then should she assume an air Of anger mingled with despair. And fall on him with great disdain, Demanding why doth he remain So long away—she doubteth not The reason is that he hath got Some other he prefers to her; Younger perchance, and merrier, To whom, forsooth, his time he gives, While she, alas! neglected lives:14540 Ah! well may she with anguish burn Who loves, but wins not love’s return. And when he hears her thus complain ’Twill work like fire within his brain, ​And forthwith will he deem that she Loves him with mad intensity, And is of him as jealous as In olden days God Vulcan was Of Venus, whom he found at play With Mars, when Phœbus brought the day,14550 [Trapped in the brazen net he’d wrought. On his own head contempt he brought When thus he proved himself betrayed, And openwise a cuckold made.