Charles Brockden Brown (1771–1810). Edgar Huntley; or, Memoirs of a Sleep-Walker. 1857.
The Canterbury TalesThe Merchant’s Prologue
The Prologe of the Marchantes Tale.
‘WEPING and wayling, care, and other sorweI know y-nogh, on even and a-morwe,’Quod the Marchaunt, ‘and so don othere moThat wedded been, I trowe that it be so.For, wel I woot, it fareth so with me.I have a wyf, the worste that may be;For thogh the feend to hir y-coupled were,She wolde him overmacche, I dar wel swere.What sholde I yow reherce in specialHir hye malice? she is a shrewe at al.Ther is a long and large differenceBitwix Grisildis grete pacienceAnd of my wyf the passing crueltee.Were I unbounden, al-so moot I thee!I wolde never eft comen in the snare.We wedded men live in sorwe and care;Assaye who-so wol, and he shal findeI seye sooth, by seint Thomas of Inde,As for the more part, I sey nat alle.God shilde that it sholde so bifalle!A! good sir hoost! I have y-wedded beThise monthes two, and more nat, pardee;And yet, I trowe, he that all his lyveWyflees hath been, though that men wolde him ryveUn-to the herte, ne coude in no manereTellen so muchel sorwe, as I now hereCoude tellen of my wyves cursednesse!’‘Now,’ quod our hoost, ‘Marchaunt, so god yow blesse,Sin ye so muchel knowen of that art,Ful hertely I pray yow telle us part.’‘Gladly,’ quod he, ‘but of myn owene sore,For sory herte, I telle may na-more.’