Than seyde I thus: ‘I confesse and am a-knowe it,’ quod I; ‘ne I ne see nat that men may sayn, as by right, that shrewes ne ben chaunged in-to bestes by the qualitee of hir soules, al-be-it so that they kepen yit the forme of the body of mankinde. But I[ ] nolde nat of shrewes, of which the thought cruel woodeth al-wey in-to destruccioun of goode men, that it were leveful to hem to don that.’
‘Certes,’ quod she, ‘ne is nis nat leveful to hem, as I shal wel shewe thee in covenable place;
but natheles, yif so were that thilke that men wenen be leveful to shrewes were binomen hem, so that they ne mighte nat anoyen or doon harm to goode men, certes, a gre partye of the peyne to shrewes sholde ben allegged and releved.
For al-be-it so that this ne seme nat credible thing, per-aventure, to some folk, yit moot it nedes be, that shrewes ben more wrecches and unsely whan they may doon and performe that they coveiten, than yif they mighte nat complisshen that they coveiten.
For yif so be that it be wrecchednesse to wilne to don yvel, than is more wrecchednesse to mowen don yvel; with-oute whiche mowinge the wrecched wil sholde languisshe with-oute effect.
Than, sin that everiche of thise thinges hath his wrecchednesse, that is to seyn, wil to don yvel and mowinge to don yvel, it moot nedes be that they ben constreyned by three unselinesses, that wolen and mowen and performen felonyes and shrewednesses.’
‘I acorde me,’ quod I; ‘but I desire gretly that shrewes losten sone thilke unselinesse, that is to seyn, that shrewes weren despoyled of mowinge to don yvel.’
‘So shullen they,’ quod she, ‘soner, per-aventure, than thou woldest; or soner than they hem-self wene to lakken mowinge to don yvel.
For ther nis no-thing so late in so shorte boundes of this lyf, that is long to abyde, nameliche, to a corage inmortel; of whiche shrewes the grete hope, and the hye compassinges of shrewednesses, is ofte destroyed by a sodeyn ende, or they ben war; and that thing estableth to shrewes the ende of hir shrewednesse.
For yif that shrewednesse maketh wrecches, than mot he nedes ben most wrecched that lengest is a shrewe; the whiche wikked shrewes wolde I demen aldermost unsely and caitifs, yif that hir shrewednesse ne were finisshed , at the leste wey, by the outtereste deeth.
For yif I have concluded sooth of the unselinesse[ ]40 of shrewednesse, than sheweth it cleerly that thilke wrecchednesse is with-outen ende, the whiche is certein to ben perdurable.’
‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘this conclusioun is hard and wonderful to graunte; but I knowe wel that it acordeth moche to the thinges that I have graunted her-biforn.’
‘Thou hast,’ quod she, ‘the right estimacioun of this;
but who-so-ever wene that it be a hard thing to acorde him to a conclusioun, it is right that he shewe that some of the premisses ben false; or elles he moot shewe that the collacioun of proposiciouns nis nat speedful to a necessarie conclusioun. And yif it be nat so, but that the premisses ben y-graunted, ther is not why he sholde blame the argument.
For this thing that I shal telle thee now ne shal nat seme lasse wonderful; but of the thinges that ben taken also it is necessarie;’ as who seyth, it folweth of that which that is purposed biforn.
‘What is that?’ quod I.
‘Certes,’ quod she, ‘that is, that thise wikked shrewes ben more blisful, or elles lasse wrecches, that abyen the torments that they han deserved, than yif no peyne of Iustice ne chastysede hem.
Ne this ne seye I nat now, for that any man mighte thenke , that the maners of shrewes ben coriged and chastysed by veniaunce, and that they ben brought to the right wey by the drede of the torment, ne for that they yeven to other folk ensaumple to fleen fro vyces; but I understande yit in another manere, that shrewes ben more unsely whan they ne ben nat punisshed , al-be-it so that ther ne be had no resoun or lawe of correccioun, ne non ensaumple of lokinge.’
‘And what manere shal that ben,’ quod I, ‘other than hath be told her-biforn?’
‘Have we nat thanne graunted,’ quod she, ‘that goode folk ben blisful, and shrewes ben wrecches?’
‘Yis,’ quod I.
‘Thanne,’ quod she, ‘yif that any good were added to the wrecchednesse of any wight, nis he nat more weleful than he that ne hath no medlinge of good in his solitarie wrecchednesse?’
‘So semeth it,’ quod I.
‘And what seystow thanne,’ quod she, ‘of thilke wrecche that lakketh alle goodes, so that no good nis medled in his wrecchednesse, and yit, over al his wikkednesse for which he is a wrecche, that ther be yit another yvel anexed and knit to him, shal nat men demen him more unsely than thilke wrecche of whiche the unselinesse is releved by the participacioun of som good?’
‘Why sholde he nat?’ quod I.
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‘Thanne, certes,’ quod she, ‘han shrewes, whan they ben punisshed, som-what of good anexed to hir wrecchednesse, that is85 to seyn, the same peyne that they suffren, which that is good by the resoun of Iustice; and whan thilke same shrewes ascapen with-oute torment, than han they som-what more of yvel yit over the wikkednesse that they han don, that is to seyn, defaute of peyne; which defaute of peyne, thou hast graunted, is yvel for[ ] the deserte of felonye.’
‘I ne may nat denye it,’ quod I.
‘Moche more thanne,’ quod she, ‘ben shrewes unsely, whan they ben wrongfully delivered fro peyne, than whan they ben punisshed by rightful veniaunce.
But this is open thing and cleer, that it is right that shrewes ben punisshed, and it is wikkednesse and wrong that they escapen unpunisshed.’
‘Who mighte deneye that?’ quod I.
‘But,’ quod she, ‘may any man denye that al that is right nis good; and also the contrarie, that al that is wrong is wikke?’
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‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘these thinges ben clere y-nough; and that we han concluded a litel herbiforn.
But I praye thee that thou telle me, yif thou acordest to leten no torment to sowles, after that the body is ended by the deeth;’ this is to seyn, understandestow aught that sowles han any torment after the deeth of the body?
‘Certes,’ quod she, ‘ye; and that right greet; of which sowles,’ quod she, ‘I trowe that some ben tormented by asprenesse of peyne; and some sowles, I trowe, ben exercised by a purginge mekenesse.
But my conseil nis nat to determinye of thise peynes.
But I have travailed and told yit hiderto, for thou sholdest knowe that the mowinge of shrewes, which mowinge thee semeth to ben unworthy, nis no mowinge: and eek of shrewes, of which thou pleinedest that they ne were nat punisshed, that thou woldest seen that they ne weren never-mo with-outen the torments of hir wikkednesse: and of the licence of the mowinge to don yvel,115 that thou preydest that it mighte sone ben ended, and that thou woldest fayn lernen that it ne sholde nat longe dure : and that shrewes ben more unsely yif they were of lenger duringe, and most unsely yif they weren perdurable.
And after this, I have shewed thee that more unsely ben shrewes, whan they escapen with-oute hir rightful peyne, than whan they ben punisshed by rightful veniaunce.
And of this sentence folweth it, that thanne ben shrewes constreined at the laste with most grevous torment, whan men wene that they ne be nat punisshed.’
‘Whan I consider thy resouns ,’ quod I, ‘I ne trowe nat that men seyn any-thing more verayly.
And yif I torne ayein to the studies of men, who is he to whom it sholde seme that he ne sholde nat only leven thise thinges, but eek gladly herkne hem?’
‘Certes,’ quod she, ‘so it is; but men may nat.
For they han hir eyen so wont to the derknesse of erthely thinges, that they ne may nat liften hem up to the light of cleer sothfastnesse; but they ben lyke to briddes, of which the night lightneth hir lokinge, and the day blindeth hem.
For whan men loken nat the ordre of thinges, but hir lustes and talents, they wene that either the leve or the mowinge to don wikkednesse, or elles the scapinge with-oute peyne, be weleful.
But consider the Iugement of the perdurable lawe.
For yif thou conferme thy corage to the beste thinges, thou ne hast no nede of no Iuge to yeven thee prys or mede; for thou hast ioyned thy-self to the most excellent thing.
And yif thou have enclyned thy studies to the wikked thinges, ne seek no foreyne wreker out of thy-self;
for thou thy-self hast thrist thy-self in-to wikke thinges: right as thou mightest loken by[ ]dyverse tymes the foule erthe and the hevene, and that alle other thinges stinten fro with-oute, so that thounere neither in hevene ne in erthe , ne saye no-thing more; than it sholde semen to thee, as by only resoun of lokinge, that thou were now in the sterres and now in the erthe.
But the poeple ne loketh nat on thise thinges.
What thanne?
Shal we thanne aprochen us to hem that I have shewed that they ben lyk to bestes?
And what woltow seyn of this: yif that a man hadde al forlorn his sighte and hadde foryeten that he ever saugh, and wende that no-thing ne faylede him of perfeccioun of mankinde, now we that mighten seen the same thinges , wolde we nat wene that he were blinde?
Ne also ne acordeth nat the poeple to that I shal seyn, the which thing is sustened by a stronge foundement of resouns, thatistoseyn, that more unsely ben they that don wrong to othre folk than they that the wrong suffren.’
‘I wolde heren thilke same resouns,’ quod I.
‘Denyestow ,’ quod she, ‘that alle shrewes ne ben worthy to han torment?’
‘Nay,’ quod I.
‘But,’ quod she, ‘I am certein, by many resouns, that shrewes ben unsely.’
‘It acordeth,’ quod I.
‘Thanne ne doutestow nat,’ quod she, ‘that thilke folk that ben worthy of torment, that they ne ben wrecches?’
‘It acordeth wel,’ quod I.
‘Yif thou were thanne,’ quod she , ‘y-set a Iuge or a knower of thinges, whether , trowestow , that men sholden tormenten him that hath don the wrong, or elles him that hath suffred the wrong?’
‘I ne doute nat,’ quod I, ‘that I nolde don suffisaunt satisfaccioun to him that hadde suffred the wrong by the sorwe of him that hadde don the wrong.’
‘Thanne semeth it,’ quod she, ‘that the doere of wrong is more wrecche than he that suffred wrong ?’
‘That folweth wel,’ quod I.
‘Than,’ quod she, ‘by these causes and by othre causes that ben enforced by the same rote, filthe or sinne, by the propre180 nature of it, maketh men wrecches; and it sheweth wel, that the wrong that men don nis nat the wrecchednesse of him that receyveth the wrong, but the wrecchednesse of him that doth the wrong.
But certes,’ quod she, ‘thise oratours or advocats don al the contrarye;
for they enforcen hem to commoeve the Iuges to185 han pitee of hem that han suffred and receyved the thinges that ben grevous and aspre, and yit men sholden more rightfully han pitee of hem that don the grevaunces and the wronges;
the whiche shrewes, it were a more covenable thing, that the accusours or advocats, nat wroth but pitous and debonair, ledden tho shrewes that han don wrong to the Iugement, right as men190 leden syke folk to the leche, for that they sholde seken out the maladyes of sinne by torment.
And by this covenaunt, either the entente of deffendours or advocats sholde faylen and cesen in al, or elles, yif the office of advocats wolde bettre profiten to men, it sholde ben torned in-to the habite of accusacioun; that is toseyn, they sholden accuse shrewes, and nat excuse hem. And eek the shrewes hem-self, yif hit were leveful to hem to seen at any clifte the vertu that they han forleten, and sawen that they sholden putten adoun the filthes of hir vyces, by the torments of peynes, they ne oughte nat, right for the recompensacioun for to geten hem bountee and prowesse which that they han lost, demen ne holden that thilke peynes weren torments to hem; and eek they wolden refuse the attendaunce of hir advocats, and taken hem-self to hir Iuges and to hir accusors.
For which it bitydeth that, as to the wyse folk, ther nis no place y-leten to hate; that is to seyn, that ne hate hath no place amonges wyse men.
For no wight nil haten goode men, but-yif he were over-mochel a fool; and for to haten shrewes, it nis no resoun.
For right so as languissinge is maladye of body, right so ben vyces and sinne maladye of corage. And so as we ne deme nat, that they that ben syke of hir body ben worthy to ben hated, but rather worthy of pitee: wel more worthy, nat to ben hated, but for to ben had in pitee, ben they of whiche the thoughtes ben constreined by felonous wikkednesse, that is more cruel than any languissinge of body.
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Book I: THE SORROWS OF BOETHIUS