COMPETITION

Extra pilgrim

Jaspistos

In Competition No 1736 you were in- vited to suppose that the Wife of Bath's fifth husband was alive and described in the Prologue to The Canterbury Tales. You were free to write either in the manner of Chaucer or of Chaucer modernised.

Since I'm no expert on Chaucerian orthography and pronunciation, you had licence to fake and bluff; you also had licence to draw a portrait which didn't chime with the Wife of Bath's description of her fifth husband in her Prologue, where. she narrates how one day when she tore a page out of one of his precious books he gave her such a buffet on the ear that she went deaf. D.A. Prince saw him as 'an Essex manne', and John Sweetman as a `toye boy':

He was y-cleped Larry and he wore A crimson mantelet full short afore And eke behinde that all the world might learn How he might swyve his daily crust to earn.

each, and the bonus bottle of Aberlour Single Malt whisky goes to Paul Griffin. With hire ther roode, a litel out of sighte, Hire yonge housbonde, that Jankyn highte A SECOND CLERK OF OXENFORD was he, But fatter than that oother clerk, pardee! Discreet hee was, and ever slow to utter; Hee knew which way his breed hadde on the

butter.

His wif of hire strait governaunce wad boost, But natheless hee governed the moost. Blythere by twenty yeeres, he wad nat greve, But quietlich wad laugh along his sleave; For shee was deef, and never coulde telle Whan he was myrie, whan as sadde as helle. Lo, thus in manage, echone may trowe: `I cut the meete; I am the maister nowe!'

It is nat so. The cok which crows the mooste Is nat for aye that oon which rules the rooste.

(Paul Griffin) Hire fifthe housbonde was on lyve. Thise shrewe Ne cared noghte but rede in bokes newe That wommen equal been unto hire make; Swiche leming counted she nat worthe a rake, And bade, pardee, that mote he nevere thryve! Nat mo than ones a monthe wolde he hire swyve, For bokes tolde hit mooste abhominacioun To usen wommen with swich dominacioun. Meke as a mayde he was, and no thyng gentil: He etc no flessche, and yit he loved a lentil. Ne wolde he lette hire bare hir child abedde; Thereto she squatted in the bathe instede. He worshypped Dame Nature, like the Turke, That othere wyves called hym a berke. `Goddes bones', she sayde, `noghte settes me in a rage Mo than thilk corsed men yclept "New Age".'

(Ian Shiels) A Man of Bath ther roode hyndermoost In straunge manere, lyk a forpyned goost, With countenance ful piteous, pale of hewe, And sothely hys forheed was al blewe, And on hys cheke, hys eyen right bisyde, He bore a bloody wounde, depe and wyde.

A clerk he semed, syn a boke he bore, But thilke boke, alas, was al to-tore, And everich paas he rood hys teres fel doun, And thys he cryde, 'A curs on Alisoun!

I wolde when I strook hir she were sleyn, Ne hadde swich hardiment to rys ageyn.

Of thilke wyf, and eek the olde daunce,

So mote! thee, I han ful suffisaunce.'

Ryding a mere, thys Jankyn bete hir sore, Cryde, `Sovereyntee!' then spak namoore.

(Mary Holtby) Then was another Clerk of Oxenford, Slyke as a swan, and lusty as a lord, And housbonde to the Wyf of Bathe was he.

They lived nat in parfit charitee, For he was yonge and fressh, and she was oold, And in swich caas love waxeth oft-tymes coold.

Hir wordes lyk the jelous adder stonge, And lyk a mille wheel clapped ay hir tonge.

In hir despyt his text was evermo Mulier est hominis confusio, And many oolde stories wolde he telle How wikked wommen bringen men to belle, Witnesse on Adam, Sampsoun, Salomon, Hercules with the sherte of Nessus on.

Swich tales he tolde to pilgrimes that would here, But oonlu whan Dame Alys nas nat neare.

(Kate Cottrell) Another Scholar joined us where we rode, And on this worthy fellow weighed, it seemed, a load.

He pondered long if someone said their piece. Across his sallow forehead stretched a crease. And though no man alive knew words so well, He looked as grey as ghost returned from hell. His studies, so he said, had taught this truth, That men were often wicked and uncouth; And yet he stumbled when he spoke this speech, As if he knew of other laws to teach.

Gaunt as a goat, his thighs were large and strong.

He held that, when a woman's life is long, We must in all things show her great respect. Because of this, he suffered no neglect When barmaids came to draw him pints of ale. There seemed no reason why he looked so pale.

(Glen Lillebrew)

No. 1739: Thunder from the Right

The undeserved prosperity of the masses' was a phrase that caught my eye in a recent article by Auberon Waugh. You are in- vited to make it the subject of, and incorporate it in, a fulminating right-wing editorial. Maximum 150 words. Entries to 'Competition No. 1739' by 31 July.