Synaptic

Writing Objective: Create a persona from our class reading.

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Cupid’s arrow has been thrust into my heart and desire for the Wife of Bath now consumes every inch of my body. I have passed many a night in the company of women. I have been described as a “hot lover” and a “lusty bachelor.”¹ Yet never before has my heart yearned for one such as it seeks the voluptuous Wife of Bath on this pilgrimage. Ah, she is my gap-toothed beauty, my souls one desire. It pricks my heart to hear her deny me night after night. But I know the reason behind her refutations. The other pilgrims have convinced her to doubt my masculinity.

I am a gift to any woman. Of course, I must speak as a humble squire, so I cannot proclaim this so ostentatiously to the Wife of Bath. The women that had have never questioned my masculinity in matters of the night. Yes, I wear a short gown of embroidered flowers. I like flowers (especially peonies). I take great joy in singing, whistling, dancing, and composing poems. I believe the other men are quite jealous of my abilities. When I inform the pilgrims of my talents, the Miller mumbles obscenities and the Summoner interrupts with his abominable belching. The Pardoner is the only one who appreciates my frolicking dances and my tinkling voice.

I display very few characteristics of my father, the solemn and chivalrous knight. In truth, he is a bore. When darkness coats the sky, his only thought is of the pillow to rest him for the next battle. I desire wild nights of passion and singing and marrying after the sun drips into the horizon. Sleep is but a hateful habit into which the world has fallen. I have composed a verse on the very subject.

As we pilgrims stop each night to rest on our way to Canterbury, the foolish men sleep while I exert my wiles on the women. After powdering my feet and repressing my curls, I prance to the tent of the glorious Wife of Bath and T spout forth song and verse until she invites me in. I let manner feigns aloofness, but I see the desire in her eyes. She soon forces me to leave due to her fear of appearing impure by passing the nights with a male caller. Her plump lips religiously whisper, “She may no while in chastity abide that is assailed upon each side.”2 So I obey her wishes and wander over to the Pardoner’s tent.

I am assured that she would not resist me if she had faded in my true masculinity. If the gods grant me good fortune, I shall soon dispel the pilgrims’ rumors dial have caused my beloved to doubt my manhood. I have attempted time and again to reassure her that I am a woman’s man. I crooned many a song for her, but she remains unmoved.

The frightful Miller initiated the destruction of ray good repute. He challenged me to a wrestling match, bellowing, “By arms and by blood and bones! He is no man!”3 Although I am strong and can leap and cavort with great agility, the Miller scares me, a lie is a brawny man, as wide-shouldered as Goliath and as ugly as a wild boar. No one questions his manliness. When he displayed the indentation on his forehead where he had rammed a door off its hinges, I sprinted to the washroom and bolted the door.

Now he refers to me as a woman and a man-lover, mocking the curls I’ve just had pressed. Every time I chirp a song, he laughs incessantly. When I sketch a picture of daffodils for my love, he pillories my work to the men. They say I am “As fresh as the month of May is”. The dimwitted Maniple laughs most heartily. Only those with no real talents of their own can chortle so enthusiastically at others.

When the finger pointed at me to tell a tale, I attempted to restore my good name and enchant the Wife of Bath. I began a delightfully intelligent story that was sure to impress every pilgrim present. I was entirely enveloped in my tale. It was faultless. I used my extensive vocabulary and created elaborate characters, but some of the ignorant pilgrims believed that my story lacked a plot.

The Franklin interrupted before I could complete my talc. I was infuriated, but quickly pardoned him when he praised my “wit” and “eloquence.”5 He is really a fine gentleman whom I had been acquainted with before the journey. I wished to reveal our association to die others as further evidence of my masculinity, for the Franklin operates a whorehouse that I frequent. However, he did not share this information with the other pilgrims, assuming many would believe him. He merely alludes to the fact that he has plenty of “all dainties dial men could think.” I laugh! I have spent many evenings indulging in his “dainties.” The Franklin’s table is set “all the long day” because men enter at all hours. He is a clever, handsome fellow.

When the lovely Wife of Bath tells her tale, she is mesmerizing. Some say she is too long-winded, but I could listen to her love speeches for weeks. When we are together, I mosey just listen to her speak since she is rather deaf and cannot hear what 1 say. Her talc is seeping with hidden meanings through which she reveals what she wants from me. She says, concerning husbands, that she will “Welcome the sixth”7 whenever he comes along. She blatantly states that she is “never without purveyance” of marriage. It is obvious that she longs for me.

She makes it quite clear that her husband cannot just be any nitwit, though. He must have something to offer her. Who has more to offer than I do? The Wife of Bath says that when her husband gives her the wealth and goods she desires, she does him a “nicety.” She tells me that “With empty hands, men no hawks may lure.”‘ I would give her all of my possessions, my body, and my talents in exchange for her nicely. Her appetite for passion will no longer be “feigned,” as it was with the other men with whom she has been. She wants a manly man, and dial 1 am.

Late in the evenings, when I have her to myself in the tent, I tell her of my many talents. No woman has yet complained of my performance in any way. I am fully aware that her bones tremble with lust for me. She entices me with her talk of her astrological connection to Venus, the goddess of love, and I quiver with restrained desire as she boasts of her great ability in “the old dance.”10

I will allow her to dominate me as she pleases. I will prove to her that I am more of a man than husbands one, two, three, four, and five. They were not worthy of such a woman. 1 am everything that she desires and I love so the body that she will have no need to seek pleasure elsewhere.

Works Cited

(1) The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Volume 1. Joanna Lipking and W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. 1993 p. 83, line 80. (2) Ibid., p. 123. line 261. (3) Ibid., p. 101, line 17. (4) Ibid., p. 83, line 92. (5) Ibid., p. 144, line 2. (6) Ibid., p. 89, line 348. (7) Ibid., p. 118, line 91. (8) Ibid., p. 129, line 576-6. (9) Ibid., p. 126, line 421. (10) Ibid., p. 92, line 478.