conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know a plot for a book about Canterbury, Molly, Tales entitled The Canterbury Tales?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Canterbury Tales (film): Near London, Oxford and Canterbury in the Middle Ages, stories and adventures of peasants, noblemen, clergy and demons are interwoven.\nIn the first vignette of the film, the merchant Sir January loses his sight, allowing the bride to join with her young lover in secret.\nIn the second story, the Devil ensures that two young peasants are killed by the arm of the Inquisition for their libertine pleasures.\nIn the third, the fool Perkin is involved in an intrigue; he tries to find work, but his attempts ultimately wreak havoc in the city of Oxford.\nIn the fourth story, two youths, Nicolas and Alison, seduce the wife of a carpenter, and when in danger of being caught, they pretend to be two visionaries who predicted the arrival of a new flood.\nIn the fifth, in the village of Bath, a matron marries Giannozzo; however, their happiness is short-lived.\nIn the sixth story in Cambridge, two students spend fabulous nights with Molly, the wife of a miller.\nOne night Molly, waiting to make love with each of the two boys, goes to bed believing that she is conversing with one of the youths, disclosing their secret.\nIn fact, the one who is on the bed is the consort.\nIn the seventh story three students, cruel in their actions, are achieved by an old man who predicts them to a bad end.\nYoung guys do not get scared, but when the three ingest a poisoned wine, soon find themselves in the company of the gloomy Grim Reaper.\nIn the eighth and final story, a pleasure-loving monk is trying to earn as much food in exchange for extreme unction to a dying man.\nThat same night, an angel comes to the man's monastery who leads him to Hell, to show him the terrible punishments that await the friars who subvert the message of Christ.\nAll the stories are linked to the arrival of a group of pilgrims to the shrine of Canterbury, among which there is the poet Geoffrey Chaucer (played by Pasolini himself), who during breaks in the pub with friends, writes and tells the stories, which have the purpose of moralizing and delight the audience.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Canterbury Tales
  The American scholar Jacques Barzun once wrote that, unlike French written some 600 years ago, English of that era--that is, Chaucer's English--is still comprehensible to the modern reader.
  But while it is true that, as Barzun pointed out, the structure of the language is the same, then and now, and many of the words are the same, only the most studious and patient modern reader will get the meaning of every line in Chaucer's Middle English. The spelling is different than ours, and in Chaucer every sixth or seventh word refers to something medieval and not in our modern vocabulary. The result is that, between stopping to sound out the differently spelled words and looking up those words in Chaucer that are no longer in use to day, it's very slow going. In the process, we lose the poetry.
  So for this modernization of Chaucer's language, I've changed all the Middle English spellings to modern English and substituted, wherever possible, words or phrases we use today for those in Chaucer we no longer recognize. What I have not tried to do is make Chaucer sound like a modern man, using modern, idiomatic speech. Many of Chaucer's lines are structured so that the key phrase or word--the word or phrase that reveals the meaning or outcome--is held back until the end of the line. To rearrange the parts of these lines would remove both the rhythmic and dramatic tension in the poetry. There is not much fun in knowing the end of the line--or story--ahead of time, especially if it has been turned from the silver or gold of rhyme and meter into a leaden paraphrase.
  So what you have here, I hope, is still Chaucer, with all his brilliance, subtlety, and sense of drama, and as much of the rhythm and meter integral to it that I could conserve--but written in English readily comprehensible to the contemporary reader. I would like to think that, as you read along, enough of Chaucer's tone and feel is still present that you lose yourself in the tale, hear Chaucer speaking directly to you, and forget that it is a translation.
  True it is that the style of poetry till Henry the Eighth's time, and partly also within his reign, may very well appear uncouth, strange and unpleasant to those that are affected only with that is familiar and accustomed to them; not but there were even before those times some that had their poetic excellencies, if well examined; and chiefly among the rest Chaucer, who through all the neglect of former aged poets still keeps a name, being by some few admired for his real worth, to others not unpleasing for his facetious way, which, joined with his old English, entertains them with a kind of drollery.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know three more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: In the first place, as he is the father of English poetry, so I hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians held Homer, or the Romans Virgil. He is a perpetual fountain of good sense; learned in all sciences; and, therefore, speaks properly on all subjects. As he knew what to say, so he knows also when to leave off; a continence which is practised by few writers, and scarcely by any of the ancients, excepting Virgil and Horace....
  Hitherto our poets had been persons of a private and circumscribed education; and the art of versifying, like every other kind of composition, had been confined to recluse scholars. But Chaucer was a man of the world; and from this circumstance we are to account, in great measure, for the many new embellishments which he conferred on our language and our poetry. The descriptions of splendid processions and gallant carousals with which his works abound are a proof that he was conversant with the practices and diversions of polite life. Familiarity with a variety of things and objects, opportunities of acquiring the fashionable and courtly modes of speech, connexions with the great at home, and a personal acquaintance with the vernacular poets of foreign countries, opened his mind and furnished him with new lights....
  Of Chaucer's characters, as described in his Canterbury Tales, some of the names or titles are altered by time, but the characters themselves for ever remain unaltered, and consequently they are the physiognomies or lineaments of universal human life, beyond which Nature never steps. Names alter, things never alter. I have known multitudes of those who could have been monks in the age of monkery, who in this deistical age are deists. As Newton numbered the stars, and as Lin neus numbered the plants, so Chaucer numbered the classes of men.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I think the most perfect type of a true English mind in its best possible temper, is that of Chaucer.
  Chaucer is perpetually seeing the humorous side, not merely of his emotions but of his interests, his knowledge, his beliefs, his every thing....
  His good humour is even more pervading. It gives a memorable distinction of kindliness between'The Wife of Bath's Prologue' and the brilliant following of it by Dunbar in 'The Tua Mariit Wemen and the Wedo'; and it even separates Chaucer from such later humorists as Addison and Jane Austen, who, though never savage, can be politely cruel. Cruelty and Chaucer are absolute strangers.
  Chaucer's strong sanity and critical commonsense, his quick power of observation, and his distaste for all extravagances and follies helped to make him a great comic poet. But he is not a railing wit, or a bitter satirist. His broad and calm philosophy of life, his delight in diversities of character, his sympathy with all kinds of people, and his zest in all varieties of experience--these are the qualities of a humorist.
  Chaucer anticipates by centuries the inwardness we associate with the Renaissance and the Reformation: his men and women begin to develop a self-consciousness that only Shakespeare knew how to quicken into self-overhearing, subsequent startlement, and the arousal of the will to change.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the first five paragraphs for this book?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Canterbury Tales
  There were in Flanders three young people who loved to play around and amuse themselves. They used to dance and to fight, to haunt taverns and brothels. Everywhere they went came the sound of harps and lutes and guitars. They played dice night and day. They ate and drank to excess. So in the temples of the devil they sacrificed themselves to Satan. They rolled in the sty of abomination. Their oaths and blasphemies were terrible to hear. They swore on the crucified body of Our Lord, saying that the Jews had not tortured Him enough. They encouraged each other in every excess and sin. They paid for dancing girls, slim and shapely, as well as young street-sellers, singers, bawds, confectioners - any occupation designed to stir the fires of lechery and of gluttony. They are the officers in the army of the evil one. This is the first lesson. According to the Bible itself, lechery follows in the wake of wine and drunkenness.
  Do you remember the case of Lot, who, in his cups, had intercourse with his two daughters? He was so drunk that he did not know what he was doing. And do you recall Herod? He drank so much wine at the table that he allowed his wife to cut off the head of John the Baptist. If he had been sober, would he have condemned an innocent man to death? Seneca has a word or two to say on the subject. As far as he is concerned, there is no difference at all between a madman and a drunkard. The only difference is that madness lasts longer.
  Gluttony is a cursed vice. It is the cause of our confusion on earth. It was the reason for our damnation, until it was paid for by the blood of Christ upon the cross. Yet at what a high price! Gluttony has corrupted the whole world. Adam and Eve were driven out of Eden as a result of their greed, condemned to a life of labour and of woe. As long as Adam fasted, he was happy in paradise. There is no doubt about it. But as soon as he tasted the forbidden fruit he was cast into the lower world of shame and suffering. We all ought to cry out against gluttony. If you knew how many diseases and complaints afflict the greedy man, you would be more temperate. You would maintain a proper diet, and enjoy good health. Alas the open mouth and the eager appetite! Men must labour, north and west, east and south, on land and sea, and in the air, to satisfy the stomachs of greedy men who crave more meat, more wine, more everything. Saint Paul has summarized the matter very well. 'Meat is for the belly, and the belly is for meat. But in good time God will destroy them both.' No words can tell, no tongue can name, the horrors of gluttony. A man then turns his mouth into a public toilet, a sink into which is poured the filth of alcohol; then he spews it out again.
  The apostle has recorded his lament. 'Many are walking on this earth,' he said, 'who are enemies of Christ crucified. I tell you this in sorrow. Their fate is death everlasting. If their belly is their god, they will be condemned.' Belly! Stomach! Words for a stinking bag of flesh, filled with shit and corrupted filth. From either end comes a foul wind. Sustenance is found for you at great cost and hard labour. The cooks have to grind and pound and mince, turning one dish into the likeness of another, just to satisfy you. They have to extract the marrow from the bones, just so that you can swallow the sweetest juices. They have to concoct spices out of herbs and leaves, so that they can make a sauce to stir your appetite. Yet you who live for such delights are as good as dead. Your vices have killed you.
  Drunkenness is just as foul a sin. Alcohol provokes violence and creates misery. It sours the breath. It disfigures the features. Who would want to embrace a drunk? He snores loudly, and mutters broken words. Oh you drunkard, you fall down as heavily as a stuck pig. You have lost your tongue, as well as your self-respect. Drunkenness is the graveyard of intelligence and decency. Never trust a man who is lost in drink. Never confide in him. So, good people, keep away from the red and the white wines that are sold in Fish Street and Cheapside. Spanish wine is the cheapest and the worst. It seems to get mixed up with other wines, until it becomes quite overpowering. Its vapours go straight to the head. I do not blame the vintners for this, of course. God forbid. My father was a vintner. It must happen naturally somehow. Two or three glasses are enough. The drunkard may then think he is at home in London, but in fact he has been transported to a vineyard in Spain. He is lying among the grapes, burbling nonsense.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Delete the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The Canterbury Tales
  There were in Flanders three young people who loved to play around and amuse themselves. They used to dance and to fight, to haunt taverns and brothels. Everywhere they went came the sound of harps and lutes and guitars. They played dice night and day. They ate and drank to excess. So in the temples of the devil they sacrificed themselves to Satan. They rolled in the sty of abomination. Their oaths and blasphemies were terrible to hear. They swore on the crucified body of Our Lord, saying that the Jews had not tortured Him enough. They encouraged each other in every excess and sin. They paid for dancing girls, slim and shapely, as well as young street-sellers, singers, bawds, confectioners - any occupation designed to stir the fires of lechery and of gluttony. They are the officers in the army of the evil one. This is the first lesson. According to the Bible itself, lechery follows in the wake of wine and drunkenness.
  Do you remember the case of Lot, who, in his cups, had intercourse with his two daughters? He was so drunk that he did not know what he was doing. And do you recall Herod? He drank so much wine at the table that he allowed his wife to cut off the head of John the Baptist. If he had been sober, would he have condemned an innocent man to death? Seneca has a word or two to say on the subject. As far as he is concerned, there is no difference at all between a madman and a drunkard. The only difference is that madness lasts longer.
  Gluttony is a cursed vice. It is the cause of our confusion on earth. It was the reason for our damnation, until it was paid for by the blood of Christ upon the cross. Yet at what a high price! Gluttony has corrupted the whole world. Adam and Eve were driven out of Eden as a result of their greed, condemned to a life of labour and of woe. As long as Adam fasted, he was happy in paradise. There is no doubt about it. But as soon as he tasted the forbidden fruit he was cast into the lower world of shame and suffering. We all ought to cry out against gluttony. If you knew how many diseases and complaints afflict the greedy man, you would be more temperate. You would maintain a proper diet, and enjoy good health. Alas the open mouth and the eager appetite! Men must labour, north and west, east and south, on land and sea, and in the air, to satisfy the stomachs of greedy men who crave more meat, more wine, more everything. Saint Paul has summarized the matter very well. 'Meat is for the belly, and the belly is for meat. But in good time God will destroy them both.' No words can tell, no tongue can name, the horrors of gluttony. A man then turns his mouth into a public toilet, a sink into which is poured the filth of alcohol; then he spews it out again.
  The apostle has recorded his lament. 'Many are walking on this earth,' he said, 'who are enemies of Christ crucified. I tell you this in sorrow. Their fate is death everlasting. If their belly is their god, they will be condemned.' Belly! Stomach! Words for a stinking bag of flesh, filled with shit and corrupted filth. From either end comes a foul wind. Sustenance is found for you at great cost and hard labour. The cooks have to grind and pound and mince, turning one dish into the likeness of another, just to satisfy you. They have to extract the marrow from the bones, just so that you can swallow the sweetest juices. They have to concoct spices out of herbs and leaves, so that they can make a sauce to stir your appetite. Yet you who live for such delights are as good as dead. Your vices have killed you.
  Drunkenness is just as foul a sin. Alcohol provokes violence and creates misery. It sours the breath. It disfigures the features. Who would want to embrace a drunk? He snores loudly, and mutters broken words. Oh you drunkard, you fall down as heavily as a stuck pig. You have lost your tongue, as well as your self-respect. Drunkenness is the graveyard of intelligence and decency. Never trust a man who is lost in drink. Never confide in him. So, good people, keep away from the red and the white wines that are sold in Fish Street and Cheapside. Spanish wine is the cheapest and the worst. It seems to get mixed up with other wines, until it becomes quite overpowering. Its vapours go straight to the head. I do not blame the vintners for this, of course. God forbid. My father was a vintner. It must happen naturally somehow. Two or three glasses are enough. The drunkard may then think he is at home in London, but in fact he has been transported to a vineyard in Spain.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know five more paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Take heed of the death of mighty Holofernes. One night as he lay drunk among his army outside Bethulia, lying in a tent as spacious as a great barn, he was murdered by a woman. Despite his power and his strength Judith hacked off his head and, unknown to anyone, crept out of the tent and brought the severed head back to the town.
  What need is there to describe the sovereign power of this man, proud in intent and evil in deed? There was no one in the world like him. You can read of him in the Book of Maccabees. You can read there, too, all of his vainglorious words. Then you will learn of his ruin and fall, and of his death on a bare hillside. Of all the people on the earth he hated God's chosen; he tortured and killed them, believing that their God had no power over him.
  When he received the news of the defeat of his generals, Nicanor and Timotheus, he burned with wrath and hatred. He commanded that his chariot be prepared, and swore that he would not leave it until he had come to the gates of Jerusalem, where he would wreak his vengeance. But God forestalled him.
  The Almighty smote him with a grievous wound, invisible and incurable, festering in his guts and causing him unendurable pain. Yet it was a fitting vengeance for one who had inflicted suffering on so many others. Even in his agony he pursued his evil purpose.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Add another sentence about Dame, Fortune, favoured, believed.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Take heed of the death of mighty Holofernes. One night as he lay drunk among his army outside Bethulia, lying in a tent as spacious as a great barn, he was murdered by a woman. Despite his power and his strength Judith hacked off his head and, unknown to anyone, crept out of the tent and brought the severed head back to the town. 
  What need is there to describe the sovereign power of this man, proud in intent and evil in deed? There was no one in the world like him. You can read of him in the Book of Maccabees. You can read there, too, all of his vainglorious words. Then you will learn of his ruin and fall, and of his death on a bare hillside. 
  Dame Fortune had so favoured him that he thought that he could touch the stars with his hand; he believed that he could lift mountains, and command the waves of the sea. Of all the people on the earth he hated God's chosen; he tortured and killed them, believing that their God had no power over him. 
  When he received the news of the defeat of his generals, Nicanor and Timotheus, he burned with wrath and hatred. He commanded that his chariot be prepared, and swore that he would not leave it until he had come to the gates of Jerusalem, where he would wreak his vengeance. But God forestalled him. 
  The Almighty smote him with a grievous wound, invisible and incurable, festering in his guts and causing him unendurable pain. Yet it was a fitting vengeance for one who had inflicted suffering on so many others. Even in his agony he pursued his evil purpose.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Do you know the last five paragraphs?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: So take heed of this story and remember to think before you speak. Guard your tongue. Never tell a man that his wife has been unfaithful to him. Whether you are right or wrong, he will hate you for it. According to eminent scholars, Solomon had learned discretion at an early age. But, as I said, I am not a learned man. My mother is my real teacher. Once she said to me, 'Son, for God's sake think of the crow. Curb your tongue and keep your friends. A loose tongue is more destructive than the devil. You can cross yourself to ward off the foul fiend.
  By the time that the Manciple had finished his story, the sun was low in the sky. It was by my calculation no more than twenty-nine degrees in height, and my shadow stood out before me. It was four o'clock, and a spring evening was about to descend upon us travellers. We were riding through the outskirts of a village when the Host reined in his horse and addressed us.
  We all agreed to this. It seemed good to us that we should end our journey with some virtuous text. We were happy to hear the Parson's soft voice at the end of the day. So we asked our Host to entreat him to continue.
  So the Parson rode before us, and began his story. We had entered a forest. 'Our sweet Lord God of heaven, who wills that all men have full knowledge of His godhead and live in the sweet bliss of eternity, admonishes us with the wise words of the prophet Jeremiah. Stand upon the old paths and find from old scriptures the right way which is the good way, on this pilgrimage upon the earth...'
  I held my horse back as the pilgrims made their way among the trees. The evening fell and the birds of the forest were silent. I could still hear him speaking of 'the right way to Jerusalem the Celestial' when I dismounted and walked into a small grove. There I went down on my knees and prayed.