And she answered: “Sir, what aileth you? Have patience and reason in your mind, I have you help’d on both your eyen blind. On peril of my soul, I shall not lien, As me was taught to helpe with your eyen, Was nothing better for to make you see, Than struggle with a man upon a tree: God wot, I did it in full good intent.” “Struggle!” quoth he, “yea, algate* in it went. *whatever way God give you both one shame’s death to dien! He swived* thee; I saw it with mine eyen; *enjoyed carnally And elles be I hanged by the halse.”* *neck “Then is,” quoth she, “my medicine all false; For certainly, if that ye mighte see, Ye would not say these wordes unto me. Ye have some glimpsing,* and no perfect sight.” *glimmering “I see,” quoth he, “as well as ever I might, (Thanked be God!) with both mine eyen two, And by my faith me thought he did thee so.” “Ye maze,* ye maze, goode Sir,” quoth she; *rave, are confused “This thank have I for I have made you see: Alas!” quoth she, “that e’er I was so kind.” “Now, Dame,” quoth he, “let all pass out of mind; Come down, my lefe,* and if I have missaid, *love God help me so, as I am *evil apaid.* *dissatisfied* But, by my father’s soul, I ween’d have seen How that this Damian had by thee lain, And that thy smock had lain upon his breast.” “Yea, Sir,” quoth she, “ye may *ween as ye lest:* *think as you But, Sir, a man that wakes out of his sleep, please* He may not suddenly well take keep* *notice Upon a thing, nor see it perfectly, Till that he be adawed* verily. *awakened Right so a man, that long hath blind y-be, He may not suddenly so well y-see, First when his sight is newe come again, As he that hath a day or two y-seen. Till that your sight establish’d be a while, There may full many a sighte you beguile. Beware, I pray you, for, by heaven’s king, Full many a man weeneth to see a thing, And it is all another than it seemeth; He which that misconceiveth oft misdeemeth.” And with that word she leapt down from the tree. This January, who is glad but he? He kissed her, and clipped* her full oft, *embraced And on her womb he stroked her full soft; And to his palace home he hath her lad.* *led Now, goode men, I pray you to be glad. Thus endeth here my tale of January, God bless us, and his mother, Sainte Mary. Notes to The Merchant’s Tale