the warmth
and hues of life.

The Knight, his son the Squire, his servant the good Yeoman--a gallant
three--the Clerke of Oxenford, the "poure Person of a toun," and his
brother the Ploughman, are, each in his estate, of thorough worthiness,
and are all, accordingly, drawn in a spirit of full affection. The
Prioress and the Franklin are laughed at a little--she for the pains she
gives herself to display her _imitative_ high breeding, and for--only
think it!--A.D. 1489--her SENTIMENTALITY!--he for his love of a
plenteously-spread board, and for his "poignant sauces!" But the two are
good at heart; and the satire of the poet leaves to them undisturbed their
place in your good esteem. His other men of some condition--the Monk, the
Friar, the "Sergeant of the Lawe," the Merchant, the "Doctour of
Physike"--he lashes with a more vigorous wrist. But not like a
farce-monger, who, to gain your laugh, must utterly abase his characters,
and make them merely ridiculous. The hunting Monk wants nothing but his
hood off to be a distinguished country squire. He is "_a manly man_ to be
an abbot able!" and, if he keeps greyhounds, they are "as swift as fowl of
flight." And look but at his horse's points and condition! The rascal of a
"Frere," if, by his perseverance and persuasiveness in begging, he
impoverishes the county, is a noble post of his order, and well beloved
and familiar with franklins, and with worthy women. The Merchant has an
assumed air of importance--magnifies his gains--thinks the protection of
the sea betwixt the ports from which his vessels run the first duty of
civilized governments--and keeps his wit set upon the main chance. But
that is the worst of him--"For sothe he was _a worthy man_ withalle." The
Lawyer is at the top of his profession--wise, witty, perfect in statutes
and in precedents, high in honours. What are his faults? You can hardly
tell. There is a slight ostentation of wisdom. He has got a deal of money
together--he is full of business--but he "_seems_ yet busier than he is."
The Doctor, too, is an excellent physician. He calls the stars in to his
aid. But that may be Chaucer's belief, not his mirth. He knows the
disease, and has the remedy at command. To be sure, he and his
apothecaries understand one another. He is learned in a thousand books;
but not in THE BOOK. Gold is of high esteem in medicine as a cordial.
Therefore he loves gold.

Why go on? Like Shakspeare, Chaucer portrays men in a spirit o