Following the first part of his story, Pilgrim Chaucer continues to lead his audience into sin and try the patience of God.
The mood changes in part two. Gone are the youthful adventures of Thopas. Now he is a "man" of the world, with visions of chivalry. The Pilgrim is very sure of himself. We hear him address
Both knight and lady free,
Harken to my report:
Of battle and of chivalry,
And of ladies' flirtations.
Such boldness! Disadvantaged "Janes" are history. Now he dallies with women of nobility, who are lovers, not just "love" objects. Thoughts of chivalry show advance in prestige. Similar words (chevalier, cavalier, cavalry) give mental pictures of mounted horsemen. That action will not change.
Thopas gives a brilliant performance in the saddle.
His good steed he was astride,
And forth upon his way he glided (or glowed)
As sparks out of the torch.
A man on a horse does not function like sparks released from a torch--but a phallus does. "Glided" in the previous line has no relation to hoofs beating the earth.
And we learn
Because he was a knight adventurous,
He would sleep in no house,
But lie in his hood.
Eager for exploits, he seeks not the comfort of a house. Instead he lies in his hood. It's hardly sufficient protection for a grown man. But if the image is, instead, an uncircumcised instrument, this is precisely where "he" would spend "his" reinvigorating down-time. This hood indicates the prepuce, the foreskin. A naughty fifteenth-century poem calls a virile member that is not covered by the foreskin a "rascal standing hoodless."
The poet inserts a momentary concern--a prayer for Thopas' protection.
God shield his body from shame!
The prayer is a surprise, but better late than never. Christ, as the Host, also hears the prayer.
As the story nears its end, legendary Sir Percival, of the Grail Quest, is mentioned. Christ's patience reaches its limit. The storyteller, oblivious to what is about to occur, continues,
Until one day--
but the Host will not even allow him to finish the thought.
[Note: A great deal of double entendre had to be ignored for Thopas' story to be dull, as its reputation says it is.]
Pilgrim Chaucer had just come into his stride for part two, when the Host--in the middle of a line--cries halt.
"No more of this, by God's dignity,"
Said our Host, "for you make me
So weary of your very lewdness
That, as certainly as God may bless my soul,
My ears ache from your drasty speech."
He can bear no more.
The story is lewd and filthy. The drast--scum or fecal matter--causes the Host's/Christ's pain. Stressing His revulsion, He says
". . . plainly, in a word,
Your drasty rhyming is not worth a turd!"
Could He make it clearer? His final decree is
"Sir, at a word, you shall no longer rhyme."
Thopas is harshly, but firmly being saved from ruin in response to that brief prayer. His life and his destiny will change--by the grace of God.
Then, asked by the Host/Christ for prose, Pilgrim Chaucer immediately complies.
"Gladly, by God's sweet pain!"
He refers directly to the Crucifixion, and then alludes to the Gospels centered on Christ's Passion and Death. The poet notes that though each Evangelist had his own way of telling the story, "doubtless the sentence is all one." "Sentence," here, is understood as the true meaning.
In closing his comments, he reminds his audience that variations are capable of producing the same Truth (sentence). The story of Melibee and Prudence, which will be his second offering, was popular among readers of French. He explains that his translation may add more proverbs and change some of the words, but these changes will only "reinforce the effect of [his] subject matter." The sentence will not change.
Now, his transitional declaration complete, Pilgrim Chaucer is eager to prove his new righteousness.
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