# Romance of the Rose (Ellis)/Chapter 51

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Beauty and Ugliness assail Fair Chastity with such avail, That they subject her to their dame, Who loves to put chaste maids to shame.
Ugliness turns traitor And followeth her with ponderous mace, Uplifted, round about the place9410 So fiercely, that ’twould seem as though Her mistress she must overthrow Within an hour. O frail and weak Is Chastity when both sides seek Her death, and none appear to aid Or help her; then, of all afraid, She takes to flight. If under oath She were to fight, she yet were loth, Knowing so little of the way Of combat, to contest the day9420 Alone, for scarcely could she hope With friend and foe alike to cope.
Alas! for traitorous Ugliness, Whose duty ’twas and business Frail Chastity to guard. I ween Could she have hidden her between Her skin and smock, she surely ought Have popped her there as quick as thought. Beauty, moreover, is to blame, For Chastity may justly claim9430 Her love and reverence, and her peace She ought to make with her, and cease ​From bickering strife, nor only so, But ’neath her rule should bend alow. If she but wise and courteous were, With gentle kindliness she’d bear Herself towards her, all despite Foregone, for so doth Virgil write Within the Æneid’s sixth book: Cumæan Sibyl’s saying (The word Cumæan Sibyl took).9440 That whoso chastely lives may well Hope to escape the nether hell. But swear I by the Lord who made The heavens, that when some saucy jade Doth impudently set about To paint her face, and trick her out In finery, ’tis plain that she Makes war on saintly Chastity. Alas! Poor Chastity hath got, I fear me, many a foe red-hot9450 In convent cell and abbey cloister, Who would not hesitate to hoist her Oyer their walls; they should be built Right high—’twould inmates save from guilt. Homage to Venus all dames pay, And daintily their forms array To draw on those by whom they’re seen About the ways with mincing mien, And round them wanton glances fling, Men to incite to dallying.9460 All equally they set their snares, Whether at dances, or when prayers Call them to church, and safe and sure It is to say that such allure ​They’d ne’er affect, except with wish Immodest, vile, and devilish. To dazzle foolish men, and draw Them on to break God’s holy law.
God’s creation perfect But those who look with equal eye Will see that women woefully9470 Put God to shame, when in their fits Of folly, so beside their wits Are they as not to be content With fairness such as God hath sent, But each one on her head must set Fine gear with many a gay floweret Of silk or gold adorned, whene’er She marches forth to take the air. Alas! the silly fool succeeds Only in proving that she needs9480 Good sense and modesty, when thus She strives to make her beauteous With foolish gewgaws (which e’en less Of worth than her poor self possess), Beyond the point that God saw good, As though He had not understood His handicraft, but such a whelp As she must needs consult for help To perfect that His hand begun. So, from all creatures ’neath the sun9490 That God created, she doth ask Assistance in her foolish task, Metals and minerals, and flowers, O’er which she idly wasteth hours.
But for that matter, truth to speak, Men oft are foolish, vain, and weak ​As women are, for they likewise Oft seek the beauty to despise That God hath given them, and bedeck With chains and chaplets head and neck9500 That His right hand hath wrought: despite We do His wisdom when delight We take to render yet more fair His matchless work, as those who dare Simple vesture enough Find fault with it. Away, I cry, With all such vain frivolity, I ask alone for raiment meet, To shield from summer’s scorching heat And winter’s frost. By God’s help sped, Can I protect my limbs and head9510 Against rude tempest, wind and rain, With cloth and woollen; nowise fain Am I of outland squirrel fur, Nor love the cost such things incur. My wants supplied—I ask no more.
Too much, for you, I waste my store Of deniers on fine robes of blue Or scarlet, or fair tinting due To outland dyes, or fine brunette, With costly furs around beset,9520 Which you disport in public places, With leering smiles and wanton graces, Dragging the while your costly train Through dust in drought, through mud, ’neath rain, Giving small thanks to God or me.
And when you lie all nakedly ​In bed a-night-time, nought discreet You show you when I fain would greet Your lips or cheek with loving kiss, And win the while sweet nuptial bliss9530 With kindly word and fond caress, And every show of tenderness, But all the more I press my love Upon you, all the more you prove Recalcitrant, and quite snuff out My purpose with ill-tempered pout, Nor even show the common grace Of turning towards me, face to face, But feign you sick, and sob and sigh, And lie all limp and languorously.9540 So that at last I’m forced to beat, For fear of failure, glum retreat.
A hus­band’s grievance And oft I watch the day-dawn break, And wonder as I lie awake Whether you wrangle in such sort When you with other men disport And fondle, and in what way a-paid These rufflers are when all arrayed And muffled up with gallant dress You’re dizened out for wantonness;9550 Or if you practise such despite Towards them by day as me by night. But ne’er with gay sparks you consume The time, I doubt, in fret and fume, But dance and sing where’er you go, Your face all wreathed in smiles to show Your dazzling pearly teeth, and thus Through meads and gardens amorous ​Do you, my church-wed wife, make play With worthless spendthrifts, day by day,9560 While I by no means am exempt From handling rude; with fine contempt They cry: Ha! ha! may wolves devour The jealous dotard with his sour Curmudgeon’s grin, and may his bones Be dragged by hounds across the stones!
Women will have their way By whom am I thus put to shame? Baggage! by you, who bear my name, Vile, common quean of ribald heart; With ruffians well you play your part,9570 Foul bitch at heat! base spawn of hell! False libertine! curst Jezebel! Since thus you give yourself to crime, God grant a year may fill your time, For while you join in this wild race, Your lecherous life is my disgrace, And I through you shall surely be One of the base fraternity Of Saint Arnould accounted, and A member of that cuckold band,9580 Wherein each man must spend his life Who’s fool enough to take a wife, For though one had a million eyes, A woman will their watch surprise. No guard can keep a wanton chaste, And though she fail Eve’s fruit to taste At first, if she thereto hath will, Her purpose she’ll at last fulfil.
But Juvenal of yore spake thus, As he were fain to comfort us:9590 ​Stupration is the least offence Of women, saith he, for prepense Are they to greater crimes; he tells How mothers-in-law wrought poison spells For daughters’ husbands, and with charms. On those they loved not, worked dire harms And devilish tricks, and more of crime, That to set forth would waste all time. Whoso takes pains to peel the rind From woman will the harlot find,9600 And taking heed will prove women all Fallen or ready-ripe to fall. Women’s will unalterable And this advantage over men Have women as to will, that when They’ve settled what they’re fain to do, They’ll do it, though the world should rue, Or perish: none can change the heart Of woman, though her body smart; Could one a woman’s spirit quell, Her body might he rule as well.9610
Now leave we that which ne’er can be; But, Lord of Heaven! give help to me! What can I ’gainst this ribald crew, Who put my life to shame and do Me wrongs untold? Whatever threat I use against them is but met With laughing gibe; if open war I make upon them, then they are Prepared to kill me. Brutal, proud, And strong are they, right well endowed9620 For any crime; they spurn the law, Nor care for me one single straw; ​For in their spirits burneth bright The fire of youth, and maketh light And bold their hearts in such degree As cometh nigh insanity. And causeth every one of these Hercules and Samson To deem himself a Hercules, Samson or Roland; ’twixt the two First named, if records tell us true, Corporal strength was equal, for Hercules, saith Solinus, more Than seven feet was of height, and this Exceeds all other men, ywis. Labours immense he undertook, And fearsome monsters twelve he strook With death, and then a thirteenth tried To overcome, but failed, and died By Dejanira’s act, who sent To him a shirt, in which was pent A poisonous, deadly fire, and thus This Hercules, so valorous And strong, was utterly subdued And conquered by vicissitude, Beneath a woman’s treacherous hand. And this she did because the brand Of Love towards Iole had turned The heart of him for whom she burned. And Samson—he a half-score men Had scorned in fight as they were ten Ripe apples while his locks grew, but By Delilah those locks were cut.
A sot am I these things to say, Which you’ll repeat, when once away, ​Threats of violence To all the rascal friends you meet, Who will with scorn and laughter greet The tale you tell, and thus through you May I win blows, nor light nor few, My head to bruise, my legs to break, And jelly of my back to make,9660 Should I permit you hence to go. But if perchance I come to know That you have blabbed one word, I’ll let You hear of it. Unless they get Hold of my arm and from me take This club, such play with it I’ll make That neither neighbour, friend, nor sire, Nor gallant, shall abate my ire. Alas! that e’er we should have met! ’Neath what unhappy star was set9670 My birth, that you on me should bring Such shame, disgrace, and suffering? But to these scoundrel villain curs, Because they’re smooth-tongued flatterers, Do you accord full seigniory, While I it is who ought to be Your well-loved lord, by whom you’ve been Fed, clothed, and shod long years, I ween.
All shamelessly am I by you Associate made with this base crew9680 Of scurvy scoundrels, villain scum, From whom nought else to you can come But shame, dishonour, and disgrace; For while they praise you to your face,
But cheaply they esteem your charms, E’en while they revel in your arms. ​Back-biting Before your face they all declare That you’re an angel, but beware! For when your back is turned they pull You all to pieces for a trull,9690 And laugh and jeer, and tell the mad And merry sportive times they’ve had With you, and throughly well such fate Do you deserve, when dedicate You are to vice, and men at will May have you as a common gill.
And when by all this jolly rout I see you mauled and pulled about, I frankly own, I sometimes feel An envy I can scarce conceal;9700 But don’t deceive yourself, ’tis not For fairness of your face, God wot! That men pursue you, nor for sense Or lively wit or eloquence That you display; it is alone By your fine feathers that they’re won, Your rich spun robes and jewels bright, Your clasps of gold, and rings that dight Your fingers, all of which you got From me by wheedling, and a sot9710 Therefor I own me. When to balls And dances, as your fancy calls, With gallants you betake yourself, I’m left at home upon the shelf As one who’s drunk or mad, whilst bold And brave you go, bedeckt with gold, ​Follies of dress Silver and gems, on neck and head, Whose value might be safely said Above five hundred pounds, and ask That I your worthless body mask9720 With silks and satins to your taste, While I may fret, and pine, and waste (So much it wears and vexes me) With angry spleen and jealousy.
What for these orfreys do I care With which you twist and bind your hair, Entwined with threads of gold? and why Must you have set in ivory Enamelled mirrors, sprinkled o’er With golden circlets? (Nothing more9730 Enrages me), and why these gems Befitting kingly diadems, Rubies and pearls, and sapphires fair, Which cause you to assume an air Of mad conceit? These costly stuffs, And plaited furbelows and ruffs, And cinctures to set off your waist, With pearls bedeckt and richly chased, And morses and rich fastenings; What use to me are all such things?9740 And wherefore, say then, do you choose To fit your feet with gaudy shoes, Except you have a lust to show Your shapely legs? By St. Thibaud, Ere yet three days are past I’ll sell This trash, and trample you pell-mell; ​Plain gear suffices I’ll give you nothing else to wear, By Body of God, but simple gear, A woollen kirtle, and a gown Of hempen woof to fall adown9750 About your heels, nought delicate, But coarse and rude, and in a state Of rags and slits, howe’er you fret; And round about your waist I’ll set A girdle, of what sort, think ye? No tricked and tinselled trumpery, But plain white skin, undecked with gold, While for your shoes shall serve my old Worn gaiter leggings; soon I’ll thrash From mind and body all this trash9760 Of dress and mincing ways, which draw You on to break the marriage law. No longer shall this ribald crew Unhindered have their will of you.
I charge you that you tell me now, Without a lie, from whom and how Did you obtain that rich silk dress Which at the ball you wore? Confess! For well I know it was not I Who gave it you. Unblushingly9770 You swore by God the Father and St. Denis, who protects this land, And holy Philibert, that you Received it from your mother, who, According to your tale, so well Loves me, that readily she’d sell ​The mother-in-law Her goods to spare my purse, or give All she calls hers that I might live Untouched by want or care. I’d see Her burnt alive, most joyfully9780 (The vile whoremongering old cat), And you along with her, if that Be not the very thing you said! I’ll surely ask her, by my head, But no, alas! it were but vain, Great the vexation, nought the gain; Past doubt you’ve talked to one another, Like as two marbles—child and mother, Two bells with self-same clapper rung, Two weeds from one vile root upsprung.9790 Right well ye hop and step together, Two evil birds of equal feather. She in her youth days was as vile As you are now, and every wile That then she learned she taught to you,
Apt pupil for her devil’s brew! And doubt I not that she, forsooth, Of many a dog hath proved the tooth, And hath but ceased to trip the dance, Because right well she knows her chance9800 Therein is past and gone. Her face, Besmeared with paint, hath lost all trace
Of beauty, and the harridan Employs her short remaining span Of life to sell her child. Therefor It is she comes three times or four Each week, pretending to engage You to set forth on pilgrimage ​According to the ancient use; violence But well I know she makes excuse9810 Thereof to trot you forth for sale Like any nag, nor doth she fail To snare while teaching you to snare. Deem you that I am unaware Of these vile tricks ? I scarce restrain My arm from laying on amain With this good stick, until you lie All in a heap, like pullet pie.