Section 9:
THE CLERK'S TALE.

THE PROLOGUE.

"SIR Clerk of Oxenford," our Hoste said,

"Ye ride as still and coy, as doth a maid

That were new spoused, sitting at the board:

This day I heard not of your tongue a word.

I trow ye study about some sophime:* *sophism

But Solomon saith, every thing hath time.

For Godde's sake, be of *better cheer,* *livelier mien*

It is no time for to study here.

Tell us some merry tale, by your fay;* *faith

For what man that is entered in a play,

He needes must unto that play assent.

But preache not, as friars do in Lent,

To make us for our olde sinnes weep,

Nor that thy tale make us not to sleep.

Tell us some merry thing of aventures.

Your terms, your coloures, and your figures,

Keep them in store, till so be ye indite

High style, as when that men to kinges write.

Speake so plain at this time, I you pray,

That we may understande what ye say."

This worthy Clerk benignely answer'd;

"Hoste," quoth he, "I am under your yerd,* *rod <1>

Ye have of us as now the governance,

And therefore would I do you obeisance,

As far as reason asketh, hardily:* *boldly, truly

I will you tell a tale, which that I

Learn'd at Padova of a worthy clerk,

As proved by his wordes and his werk.

He is now dead, and nailed in his chest,

I pray to God to give his soul good rest.

Francis Petrarc', the laureate poet,<2>

Highte* this clerk, whose rhetoric so sweet *was called

Illumin'd all Itale of poetry,

As Linian <3> did of philosophy,

Or law, or other art particulere:

But death, that will not suffer us dwell here

But as it were a twinkling of an eye,

Them both hath slain, and alle we shall die.

"But forth to tellen of this worthy man,

That taughte me this tale, as I began,

I say that first he with high style inditeth

(Ere he the body of his tale writeth)

A proem, in the which describeth he

Piedmont, and of Saluces <4> the country,

And speaketh of the Pennine hilles high,

That be the bounds of all West Lombardy:

And of Mount Vesulus in special,

Where as the Po out of a welle small

Taketh his firste springing and his source,

That eastward aye increaseth in his course

T'Emilia-ward, <5> to Ferraro, and Venice,

The which a long thing were to devise.* *narrate

And truely, as to my judgement,

Me thinketh it a thing impertinent,* *irrelevant

Save that he would conveye his mattere:

But this is the tale, which that ye shall hear."

Notes to the Prologue to the Clerk's Tale

1. Under your yerd: under your rod; as the emblem of

government or direction.

2. Francesco Petrarca, born 1304, died 1374; for his Latin epic

poem on the carer of Scipio, called "Africa," he was solemnly

crowned with the poetic laurel in the Capitol of Rome, on

Easter-day of 1341.

3. Linian: An eminent jurist and philosopher, now almost

forgotten, who died four or five years after Petrarch.

4. Saluces: Saluzzo, a district of Savoy; its marquises were

celebrated during the Middle Ages.

5. Emilia: The region called Aemilia, across which ran the Via

Aemilia—made by M. Aemilius Lepidus, who was consul at

Rome B.C. 187. It continued the Flaminian Way from

Ariminum (Rimini) across the Po at Placentia (Piacenza) to

Mediolanum (Milan), traversing Cisalpine Gaul.

THE TALE.<1>

*Pars Prima.* *First Part*

There is, right at the west side of Itale,

Down at the root of Vesulus<2> the cold,

A lusty* plain, abundant of vitaille;* *pleasant **victuals

There many a town and tow'r thou may'st behold,

That founded were in time of fathers old,

And many another delectable sight;

And Saluces this noble country hight.

A marquis whilom lord was of that land,

As were his worthy elders* him before, *ancestors

And obedient, aye ready to his hand,

Were all his lieges, bothe less and more:

Thus in delight he liv'd, and had done yore,* *long

Belov'd and drad,* through favour of fortune, *held in reverence

Both of his lordes and of his commune.* *commonalty

Therewith he was, to speak of lineage,

The gentilest y-born of Lombardy,

A fair person, and strong, and young of age,

And full of honour and of courtesy:

Discreet enough his country for to gie,* *guide, rule

Saving in some things that he was to blame;

And Walter was this younge lordes name.

I blame him thus, that he consider'd not

In time coming what might him betide,

But on his present lust* was all his thought, *pleasure

And for to hawk and hunt on every side;

Well nigh all other cares let he slide,

And eke he would (that was the worst of all)

Wedde no wife for aught that might befall.

Only that point his people bare so sore,

That flockmel* on a day to him they went, *in a body

And one of them, that wisest was of lore

(Or elles that the lord would best assent

That he should tell him what the people meant,

Or elles could he well shew such mattere),

He to the marquis said as ye shall hear.

"O noble Marquis! your humanity

Assureth us and gives us hardiness,

As oft as time is of necessity,

That we to you may tell our heaviness:

Accepte, Lord, now of your gentleness,

What we with piteous heart unto you plain,* *complain of

And let your ears my voice not disdain.

"All* have I nought to do in this mattere *although

More than another man hath in this place,

Yet forasmuch as ye, my Lord so dear,

Have always shewed me favour and grace,

I dare the better ask of you a space

Of audience, to shewen our request,

And ye, my Lord, to do right *as you lest.* *as pleaseth you*

"For certes, Lord, so well us like you

And all your work, and ev'r have done, that we

Ne coulde not ourselves devise how

We mighte live in more felicity:

Save one thing, Lord, if that your will it be,

That for to be a wedded man you lest;

Then were your people *in sovereign hearte's rest.* *completely

"Bowe your neck under the blissful yoke

Of sovereignty, and not of service,

Which that men call espousal or wedlock:

And thinke, Lord, among your thoughtes wise,

How that our dayes pass in sundry wise;

For though we sleep, or wake, or roam, or ride,

Aye fleeth time, it will no man abide.

"And though your greene youthe flow'r as yet,

In creepeth age always as still as stone,

And death menaceth every age, and smit* *smiteth

In each estate, for there escapeth none:

And all so certain as we know each one

That we shall die, as uncertain we all

Be of that day when death shall on us fall.

"Accepte then of us the true intent,* *mind, desire

That never yet refused youre hest,* *command

And we will, Lord, if that ye will assent,

Choose you a wife, in short time at the lest,* *least

Born of the gentilest and of the best

Of all this land, so that it ought to seem

Honour to God and you, as we can deem.

"Deliver us out of all this busy dread,* *doubt

And take a wife, for highe Godde's sake:

For if it so befell, as God forbid,

That through your death your lineage should slake,* *become extinct

And that a strange successor shoulde take

Your heritage, oh! woe were us on live:* *alive

Wherefore we pray you hastily to wive."

Their meeke prayer and their piteous cheer

Made the marquis for to have pity.

"Ye will," quoth he, "mine owen people dear,

To that I ne'er ere* thought constraine me. *before

I me rejoiced of my liberty,

That seldom time is found in rnarriage;

Where I was free, I must be in servage!* *servitude

"But natheless I see your true intent,

And trust upon your wit, and have done aye:

Wherefore of my free will I will assent

To wedde me, as soon as e'er I may.

But whereas ye have proffer'd me to-day

To choose me a wife, I you release

That choice, and pray you of that proffer cease.

"For God it wot, that children often been

Unlike their worthy elders them before,

Bounte* comes all of God, not of the strene** *goodness

Of which they be engender'd and y-bore: **stock, race

I trust in Godde's bounte, and therefore

My marriage, and mine estate and rest,

I *him betake;* he may do as him lest. *commend to him

"Let me alone in choosing of my wife;

That charge upon my back I will endure:

But I you pray, and charge upon your life,

That what wife that I take, ye me assure

To worship* her, while that her life may dure, *honour

In word and work both here and elleswhere,

As she an emperore's daughter were.

"And farthermore this shall ye swear, that ye

Against my choice shall never grudge* nor strive. *murmur

For since I shall forego my liberty

At your request, as ever may I thrive,

Where as mine heart is set, there will I live

And but* ye will assent in such mannere, *unless

I pray you speak no more of this mattere."

With heartly will they sworen and assent

To all this thing, there said not one wight nay:

Beseeching him of grace, ere that they went,

That he would grante them a certain day

Of his espousal, soon as e'er he rnay,

For yet always the people somewhat dread* *were in fear or doubt

Lest that the marquis woulde no wife wed.

He granted them a day, such as him lest,

On which he would be wedded sickerly,* *certainly

And said he did all this at their request;

And they with humble heart full buxomly,* *obediently <3>

Kneeling upon their knees full reverently,

Him thanked all; and thus they have an end

Of their intent, and home again they wend.

And hereupon he to his officers

Commanded for the feaste to purvey.* *provide

And to his privy knightes and squiers

Such charge he gave, as him list on them lay:

And they to his commandement obey,

And each of them doth all his diligence

To do unto the feast all reverence.

*Pars Secunda* *Second Part*

Not far from thilke* palace honourable, *that

Where as this marquis shope* his marriage, *prepared; resolved on

There stood a thorp,* of sighte delectable, *hamlet

In which the poore folk of that village

Hadde their beastes and their harbourage,* *dwelling

And of their labour took their sustenance,

After the earthe gave them abundance.

Among this poore folk there dwelt a man

Which that was holden poorest of them all;

But highe God sometimes sende can

His grace unto a little ox's stall;

Janicola men of that thorp him call.

A daughter had he, fair enough to sight,

And Griseldis this younge maiden hight.

But for to speak of virtuous beauty,

Then was she one the fairest under sun:

Full poorely y-foster'd up was she;

No *likerous lust* was in her heart y-run; *luxurious pleasure*

Well ofter of the well than of the tun

She drank, <4> and, for* she woulde virtue please *because

She knew well labour, but no idle ease.

But though this maiden tender were of age;

Yet in the breast of her virginity

There was inclos'd a *sad and ripe corage;* *steadfast and mature

And in great reverence and charity spirit*

Her olde poore father foster'd she.

A few sheep, spinning, on the field she kept,

She woulde not be idle till she slept.

And when she homeward came, she would bring

Wortes,* and other herbes, times oft, *plants, cabbages

The which she shred and seeth'd for her living,

And made her bed full hard, and nothing soft:

And aye she kept her father's life on loft* *up, aloft

With ev'ry obeisance and diligence,

That child may do to father's reverence.

Upon Griselda, this poor creature,

Full often sithes* this marquis set his eye, *times

As he on hunting rode, paraventure:* *by chance

And when it fell that he might her espy,

He not with wanton looking of folly

His eyen cast on her, but in sad* wise *serious

Upon her cheer* he would him oft advise;** *countenance **consider

Commending in his heart her womanhead,

And eke her virtue, passing any wight

Of so young age, as well in cheer as deed.

For though the people have no great insight

In virtue, he considered full right

Her bounte,* and disposed that he would *goodness

Wed only her, if ever wed he should.

The day of wedding came, but no wight can

Telle what woman that it shoulde be;

For which marvail wonder'd many a man,

And saide, when they were in privity,

"Will not our lord yet leave his vanity?

Will he not wed? Alas, alas the while!

Why will he thus himself and us beguile?"

But natheless this marquis had *done make* *caused to be made*

Of gemmes, set in gold and in azure,

Brooches and ringes, for Griselda's sake,

And of her clothing took he the measure

Of a maiden like unto her stature,

And eke of other ornamentes all

That unto such a wedding shoulde fall.* *befit

The time of undern* of the same day *evening <5>

Approached, that this wedding shoulde be,

And all the palace put was in array,

Both hall and chamber, each in its degree,

Houses of office stuffed with plenty

There may'st thou see of dainteous vitaille,* *victuals, provisions

That may be found, as far as lasts Itale.

This royal marquis, richely array'd,

Lordes and ladies in his company,

The which unto the feaste were pray'd,

And of his retinue the bach'lery,

With many a sound of sundry melody,

Unto the village, of the which I told,

In this array the right way did they hold.

Griseld' of this (God wot) full innocent,

That for her shapen* was all this array, *prepared

To fetche water at a well is went,

And home she came as soon as e'er she may.

For well she had heard say, that on that day

The marquis shoulde wed, and, if she might,

She fain would have seen somewhat of that sight.

She thought, "I will with other maidens stand,

That be my fellows, in our door, and see

The marchioness; and therefore will I fand* *strive

To do at home, as soon as it may be,

The labour which belongeth unto me,

And then I may at leisure her behold,

If she this way unto the castle hold."

And as she would over the threshold gon,

The marquis came and gan for her to call,

And she set down her water-pot anon

Beside the threshold, in an ox's stall,

And down upon her knees she gan to fall,

And with sad* countenance kneeled still, *steady

Till she had heard what was the lorde's will.

The thoughtful marquis spake unto the maid

Full soberly, and said in this mannere:

"Where is your father, Griseldis?" he said.

And she with reverence, *in humble cheer,* *with humble air*

Answered, "Lord, he is all ready here."

And in she went withoute longer let* *delay

And to the marquis she her father fet.* *fetched

He by the hand then took the poore man,

And saide thus, when he him had aside:

"Janicola, I neither may nor can

Longer the pleasance of mine hearte hide;

If that thou vouchesafe, whatso betide,

Thy daughter will I take, ere that I wend,* *go

As for my wife, unto her life's end.

"Thou lovest me, that know I well certain,

And art my faithful liegeman y-bore,* *born

And all that liketh me, I dare well sayn

It liketh thee; and specially therefore

Tell me that point, that I have said before,—

If that thou wilt unto this purpose draw,

To take me as for thy son-in-law."

This sudden case* the man astonied so, *event

That red he wax'd, abash'd,* and all quaking *amazed

He stood; unnethes* said he wordes mo', *scarcely

But only thus; "Lord," quoth he, "my willing

Is as ye will, nor against your liking

I will no thing, mine owen lord so dear;

Right as you list governe this mattere."

"Then will I," quoth the marquis softely,

"That in thy chamber I, and thou, and she,

Have a collation;* and know'st thou why? *conference

For I will ask her, if her will it be

To be my wife, and rule her after me:

And all this shall be done in thy presence,

I will not speak out of thine audience."* *hearing

And in the chamber while they were about

The treaty, which ye shall hereafter hear,

The people came into the house without,

And wonder'd them in how honest mannere

And tenderly she kept her father dear;

But utterly Griseldis wonder might,

For never erst* ne saw she such a sight. *before

No wonder is though that she be astoned,* *astonished

To see so great a guest come in that place,

She never was to no such guestes woned;* *accustomed, wont

For which she looked with full pale face.

But shortly forth this matter for to chase,* *push on, pursue

These are the wordes that the marquis said

To this benigne, very,* faithful maid. *true <6>

"Griseld'," he said, "ye shall well understand,

It liketh to your father and to me

That I you wed, and eke it may so stand,

As I suppose ye will that it so be:

But these demandes ask I first," quoth he,

"Since that it shall be done in hasty wise;

Will ye assent, or elles you advise?* *consider

"I say this, be ye ready with good heart

To all my lust,* and that I freely may, *pleasure

As me best thinketh, *do you* laugh or smart, *cause you to*

And never ye to grudge,* night nor day, *murmur

And eke when I say Yea, ye say not Nay,

Neither by word, nor frowning countenance?

Swear this, and here I swear our alliance."

Wond'ring upon this word, quaking for dread,

She saide; "Lord, indigne and unworthy

Am I to this honour that ye me bede,* *offer

But as ye will yourself, right so will I:

And here I swear, that never willingly

In word or thought I will you disobey,

For to be dead; though me were loth to dey."* *die

"This is enough, Griselda mine," quoth he.

And forth he went with a full sober cheer,

Out at the door, and after then came she,

And to the people he said in this mannere:

"This is my wife," quoth he, "that standeth here.

Honoure her, and love her, I you pray,

Whoso me loves; there is no more to say."

And, for that nothing of her olde gear

She shoulde bring into his house, he bade

That women should despoile* her right there; *strip

Of which these ladies were nothing glad

To handle her clothes wherein she was clad:

But natheless this maiden bright of hue

From foot to head they clothed have all new.

Her haires have they comb'd that lay untress'd* *loose

Full rudely, and with their fingers small

A crown upon her head they have dress'd,

And set her full of nouches <7> great and small:

Of her array why should I make a tale?

Unneth* the people her knew for her fairness, *scarcely

When she transmuted was in such richess.

The marquis hath her spoused with a ring

Brought for the same cause, and then her set

Upon a horse snow-white, and well ambling,

And to his palace, ere he longer let* *delayed

With joyful people, that her led and met,

Conveyed her; and thus the day they spend

In revel, till the sunne gan descend.

And, shortly forth this tale for to chase,

I say, that to this newe marchioness

God hath such favour sent her of his grace,

That it ne seemed not by likeliness

That she was born and fed in rudeness,—

As in a cot, or in an ox's stall,—

But nourish'd in an emperore's hall.

To every wight she waxen* is so dear *grown

And worshipful, that folk where she was born,

That from her birthe knew her year by year,

*Unnethes trowed* they, but durst have sworn, *scarcely believed*

That to Janicol' of whom I spake before,

She was not daughter, for by conjecture

Them thought she was another creature.

For though that ever virtuous was she,

She was increased in such excellence

Of thewes* good, y-set in high bounte, *qualities

And so discreet, and fair of eloquence,

So benign, and so digne* of reverence, *worthy

And coulde so the people's heart embrace,

That each her lov'd that looked on her face.

Not only of Saluces in the town

Published was the bounte of her name,

But eke besides in many a regioun;

If one said well, another said the same:

So spread of here high bounte the fame,

That men and women, young as well as old,

Went to Saluces, her for to behold.

Thus Walter lowly,—nay, but royally,-

Wedded with fortn'ate honestete,* *virtue

In Godde's peace lived full easily

At home, and outward grace enough had he:

And, for he saw that under low degree

Was honest virtue hid, the people him held

A prudent man, and that is seen full seld'.* *seldom

Not only this Griseldis through her wit

*Couth all the feat* of wifely homeliness, *knew all the duties*

But eke, when that the case required it,

The common profit coulde she redress:

There n'as discord, rancour, nor heaviness

In all the land, that she could not appease,

And wisely bring them all in rest and ease

Though that her husband absent were or non,* *not

If gentlemen or other of that country,

Were wroth,* she woulde bringe them at one, *at feud

So wise and ripe wordes hadde she,

And judgement of so great equity,

That she from heaven sent was, as men wend,* *weened, imagined

People to save, and every wrong t'amend

Not longe time after that this Griseld'

Was wedded, she a daughter had y-bore;

All she had lever* borne a knave** child, *rather **boy

Glad was the marquis and his folk therefore;

For, though a maiden child came all before,

She may unto a knave child attain

By likelihood, since she is not barren.

*Pars Tertia.* *Third Part*

There fell, as falleth many times mo',

When that his child had sucked but a throw,* little while

This marquis in his hearte longed so

To tempt his wife, her sadness* for to know, *steadfastness

That he might not out of his hearte throw

This marvellous desire his wife t'asssay;* *try

Needless,* God wot, he thought her to affray.** *without cause

**alarm, disturb

He had assayed her anough before,

And found her ever good; what needed it

Her for to tempt, and always more and more?

Though some men praise it for a subtle wit,

But as for me, I say that *evil it sit* *it ill became him*

T'assay a wife when that it is no need,

And putte her in anguish and in dread.

For which this marquis wrought in this mannere:

He came at night alone there as she lay,

With sterne face and with full troubled cheer,

And saide thus; "Griseld'," quoth he "that day

That I you took out of your poor array,

And put you in estate of high nobless,

Ye have it not forgotten, as I guess.

"I say, Griseld', this present dignity,

In which that I have put you, as I trow* *believe

Maketh you not forgetful for to be

That I you took in poor estate full low,

For any weal you must yourselfe know.

Take heed of every word that I you say,

There is no wight that hears it but we tway.* *two

"Ye know yourself well how that ye came here

Into this house, it is not long ago;

And though to me ye be right lefe* and dear, *loved

Unto my gentles* ye be nothing so: *nobles, gentlefolk

They say, to them it is great shame and woe

For to be subject, and be in servage,

To thee, that born art of small lineage.

"And namely* since thy daughter was y-bore *especially

These wordes have they spoken doubteless;

But I desire, as I have done before,

To live my life with them in rest and peace:

I may not in this case be reckeless;

I must do with thy daughter for the best,

Not as I would, but as my gentles lest.* *please

"And yet, God wot, this is full loth* to me: *odious

But natheless withoute your weeting* *knowing

I will nought do; but this will I," quoth he,

"That ye to me assenten in this thing.

Shew now your patience in your working,

That ye me hight* and swore in your village *promised

The day that maked was our marriage."

When she had heard all this, she not amev'd* *changed

Neither in word, in cheer, nor countenance

(For, as it seemed, she was not aggriev'd);

She saide; "Lord, all lies in your pleasance,

My child and I, with hearty obeisance

Be youres all, and ye may save or spill* *destroy

Your owen thing: work then after your will.

"There may no thing, so God my soule save,

*Like to* you, that may displease me: *be pleasing*

Nor I desire nothing for to have,

Nor dreade for to lose, save only ye:

This will is in mine heart, and aye shall be,

No length of time, nor death, may this deface,

Nor change my corage* to another place." *spirit, heart

Glad was the marquis for her answering,

But yet he feigned as he were not so;

All dreary was his cheer and his looking

When that he should out of the chamber go.

Soon after this, a furlong way or two,<8>

He privily hath told all his intent

Unto a man, and to his wife him sent.

A *manner sergeant* was this private* man, *kind of squire*

The which he faithful often founden had *discreet

In thinges great, and eke such folk well can

Do execution in thinges bad:

The lord knew well, that he him loved and drad.* *dreaded

And when this sergeant knew his lorde's will,

Into the chamber stalked he full still.

"Madam," he said, "ye must forgive it me,

Though I do thing to which I am constrain'd;

Ye be so wise, that right well knowe ye

*That lordes' hestes may not be y-feign'd;* *see note <9>*

They may well be bewailed and complain'd,

But men must needs unto their lust* obey; *pleasure

And so will I, there is no more to say.

"This child I am commanded for to take."

And spake no more, but out the child he hent* *seized

Dispiteously,* and gan a cheer** to make *unpityingly **show, aspect

As though he would have slain it ere he went.

Griseldis must all suffer and consent:

And as a lamb she sat there meek and still,

And let this cruel sergeant do his will

Suspicious* was the diffame** of this man, *ominous **evil reputation

Suspect his face, suspect his word also,

Suspect the time in which he this began:

Alas! her daughter, that she loved so,

She weened* he would have it slain right tho,** *thought **then

But natheless she neither wept nor siked,* *sighed

Conforming her to what the marquis liked.

But at the last to speake she began,

And meekly she unto the sergeant pray'd,

So as he was a worthy gentle man,

That she might kiss her child, ere that it died:

And in her barme* this little child she laid, *lap, bosom

With full sad face, and gan the child to bless,* *cross

And lulled it, and after gan it kiss.

And thus she said in her benigne voice:

Farewell, my child, I shall thee never see;

But since I have thee marked with the cross,

Of that father y-blessed may'st thou be

That for us died upon a cross of tree:

Thy soul, my little child, I *him betake,* *commit unto him*

For this night shalt thou dien for my sake.

I trow* that to a norice** in this case *believe **nurse

It had been hard this ruthe* for to see: *pitiful sight

Well might a mother then have cried, "Alas!"

But natheless so sad steadfast was she,

That she endured all adversity,

And to the sergeant meekely she said,

"Have here again your little younge maid.

"Go now," quoth she, "and do my lord's behest.

And one thing would I pray you of your grace,

*But if* my lord forbade you at the least, *unless*

Bury this little body in some place,

That neither beasts nor birdes it arace."* *tear <10>

But he no word would to that purpose say,

But took the child and went upon his way.

The sergeant came unto his lord again,

And of Griselda's words and of her cheer* *demeanour

He told him point for point, in short and plain,

And him presented with his daughter dear.

Somewhat this lord had ruth in his mannere,

But natheless his purpose held he still,

As lordes do, when they will have their will;

And bade this sergeant that he privily

Shoulde the child full softly wind and wrap,

With alle circumstances tenderly,

And carry it in a coffer, or in lap;

But, upon pain his head off for to swap,* *strike

That no man shoulde know of his intent,

Nor whence he came, nor whither that he went;

But at Bologna, to his sister dear,

That at that time of Panic'* was Countess, *Panico

He should it take, and shew her this mattere,

Beseeching her to do her business

This child to foster in all gentleness,

And whose child it was he bade her hide

From every wight, for aught that might betide.

The sergeant went, and hath fulfill'd this thing.

But to the marquis now returne we;

For now went he full fast imagining

If by his wife's cheer he mighte see,

Or by her wordes apperceive, that she

Were changed; but he never could her find,

But ever-in-one* alike sad** and kind. *constantly **steadfast

As glad, as humble, as busy in service,

And eke in love, as she was wont to be,

Was she to him, in every *manner wise;* *sort of way*

And of her daughter not a word spake she;

*No accident for no adversity* *no change of humour resulting

Was seen in her, nor e'er her daughter's name from her affliction*

She named, or in earnest or in game.

*Pars Quarta* *Fourth Part*

In this estate there passed be four year

Ere she with childe was; but, as God wo'ld,

A knave* child she bare by this Waltere, *boy

Full gracious and fair for to behold;

And when that folk it to his father told,

Not only he, but all his country, merry

Were for this child, and God they thank and hery.* *praise

When it was two year old, and from the breast

Departed* of the norice, on a day *taken, weaned

This marquis *caughte yet another lest* *was seized by yet

To tempt his wife yet farther, if he may. another desire*

Oh! needless was she tempted in as say;* *trial

But wedded men *not connen no measure,* *know no moderation*

When that they find a patient creature.

"Wife," quoth the marquis, "ye have heard ere this

My people *sickly bear* our marriage; *regard with displeasure*

And namely* since my son y-boren is, *especially

Now is it worse than ever in all our age:

The murmur slays mine heart and my corage,

For to mine ears cometh the voice so smart,* *painfully

That it well nigh destroyed hath mine heart.

"Now say they thus, 'When Walter is y-gone,

Then shall the blood of Janicol' succeed,

And be our lord, for other have we none:'

Such wordes say my people, out of drede.* *doubt

Well ought I of such murmur take heed,

For certainly I dread all such sentence,* *expression of opinion

Though they not *plainen in mine audience.* *complain in my hearing*

"I woulde live in peace, if that I might;

Wherefore I am disposed utterly,

As I his sister served ere* by night, *before

Right so think I to serve him privily.

This warn I you, that ye not suddenly

Out of yourself for no woe should outraie;* *become outrageous, rave

Be patient, and thereof I you pray."

"I have," quoth she, "said thus, and ever shall,

I will no thing, nor n'ill no thing, certain,

But as you list; not grieveth me at all

Though that my daughter and my son be slain

At your commandement; that is to sayn,

I have not had no part of children twain,

But first sickness, and after woe and pain.

"Ye be my lord, do with your owen thing

Right as you list, and ask no rede of me:

For, as I left at home all my clothing

When I came first to you, right so," quoth she,

"Left I my will and all my liberty,

And took your clothing: wherefore I you pray,

Do your pleasance, I will your lust* obey. *will

"And, certes, if I hadde prescience

Your will to know, ere ye your lust* me told, *will

I would it do withoute negligence:

But, now I know your lust, and what ye wo'ld,

All your pleasance firm and stable I hold;

For, wist I that my death might do you ease,

Right gladly would I dien you to please.

"Death may not make no comparisoun

Unto your love." And when this marquis say* *saw

The constance of his wife, he cast adown

His eyen two, and wonder'd how she may

In patience suffer all this array;

And forth he went with dreary countenance;

But to his heart it was full great pleasance.

This ugly sergeant, in the same wise

That he her daughter caught, right so hath he

(Or worse, if men can any worse devise,)

Y-hent* her son, that full was of beauty: *seized

And ever-in-one* so patient was she, *unvaryingly

That she no cheere made of heaviness,

But kiss'd her son, and after gan him bless.

Save this she prayed him, if that he might,

Her little son he would in earthe grave,* *bury

His tender limbes, delicate to sight,

From fowles and from beastes for to save.

But she none answer of him mighte have;

He went his way, as him nothing ne raught,* *cared

But to Bologna tenderly it brought.

The marquis wonder'd ever longer more

Upon her patience; and, if that he

Not hadde soothly knowen therebefore

That perfectly her children loved she,

He would have ween'd* that of some subtilty, *thought

And of malice, or for cruel corage,* *disposition

She hadde suffer'd this with sad* visage. *steadfast, unmoved

But well he knew, that, next himself, certain

She lov'd her children best in every wise.

But now of women would I aske fain,

If these assayes mighte not suffice?

What could a sturdy* husband more devise *stern

To prove her wifehood and her steadfastness,

And he continuing ev'r in sturdiness?

But there be folk of such condition,

That, when they have a certain purpose take,

Thiey cannot stint* of their intention, *cease

But, right as they were bound unto a stake,

They will not of their firste purpose slake:* *slacken, abate

Right so this marquis fully hath purpos'd

To tempt his wife, as he was first dispos'd.

He waited, if by word or countenance

That she to him was changed of corage:* *spirit

But never could he finde variance,

She was aye one in heart and in visage,

And aye the farther that she was in age,

The more true (if that it were possible)

She was to him in love, and more penible.* *painstaking in devotion

For which it seemed thus, that of them two

There was but one will; for, as Walter lest,* *pleased

The same pleasance was her lust* also; *pleasure

And, God be thanked, all fell for the best.

She shewed well, for no worldly unrest,

A wife as of herself no thinge should

Will, in effect, but as her husbaud would.

The sland'r of Walter wondrous wide sprad,

That of a cruel heart he wickedly,

For* he a poore woman wedded had, *because

Had murder'd both his children privily:

Such murmur was among them commonly.

No wonder is: for to the people's ear

There came no word, but that they murder'd were.

For which, whereas his people therebefore

Had lov'd him well, the sland'r of his diffame* *infamy

Made them that they him hated therefore.

To be a murd'rer is a hateful name.

But natheless, for earnest or for game,

He of his cruel purpose would not stent;

To tempt his wife was set all his intent.

When that his daughter twelve year was of age,

He to the Court of Rome, in subtle wise

Informed of his will, sent his message,* *messenger

Commanding him such bulles to devise

As to his cruel purpose may suffice,

How that the Pope, for his people's rest,

Bade him to wed another, if him lest.* *wished

I say he bade they shoulde counterfeit

The Pope's bulles, making mention

That he had leave his firste wife to lete,* *leave

To stinte* rancour and dissension *put an end to

Betwixt his people and him: thus spake the bull,

The which they have published at full.

The rude people, as no wonder is,

Weened* full well that it had been right so: *thought, believed

But, when these tidings came to Griseldis.

I deeme that her heart was full of woe;

But she, alike sad* for evermo', *steadfast

Disposed was, this humble creature,

Th' adversity of fortune all t' endure;

Abiding ever his lust and his pleasance,

To whom that she was given, heart and all,

As *to her very worldly suffisance.* *to the utmost extent

But, shortly if this story tell I shall, of her power*

The marquis written hath in special

A letter, in which he shewed his intent,

And secretly it to Bologna sent.

To th' earl of Panico, which hadde tho* *there

Wedded his sister, pray'd he specially

To bringe home again his children two

In honourable estate all openly:

But one thing he him prayed utterly,

That he to no wight, though men would inquere,

Shoulde not tell whose children that they were,

But say, the maiden should y-wedded be

Unto the marquis of Saluce anon.

And as this earl was prayed, so did he,

For, at day set, he on his way is gone

Toward Saluce, and lorde's many a one

In rich array, this maiden for to guide,—

Her younge brother riding her beside.

Arrayed was toward* her marriage *as if for

This freshe maiden, full of gemmes clear;

Her brother, which that seven year was of age,

Arrayed eke full fresh in his mannere:

And thus, in great nobless, and with glad cheer,

Toward Saluces shaping their journey,

From day to day they rode upon their way.

*Pars Quinta.* *Fifth Part*

*Among all this,* after his wick' usage, *while all this was

The marquis, yet his wife to tempte more going on*

To the uttermost proof of her corage,

Fully to have experience and lore* *knowledge

If that she were as steadfast as before,

He on a day, in open audience,

Full boisterously said her this sentence:

"Certes, Griseld', I had enough pleasance

To have you to my wife, for your goodness,

And for your truth, and for your obeisance,

Not for your lineage, nor for your richess;

But now know I, in very soothfastness,

That in great lordship, if I well advise,

There is great servitude in sundry wise.

"I may not do as every ploughman may:

My people me constraineth for to take

Another wife, and cryeth day by day;

And eke the Pope, rancour for to slake,

Consenteth it, that dare I undertake:

And truely, thus much I will you say,

My newe wife is coming by the way.

"Be strong of heart, and *void anon* her place; *immediately vacate*

And thilke* dower that ye brought to me, *that

Take it again, I grant it of my grace.

Returne to your father's house," quoth he;

"No man may always have prosperity;

With even heart I rede* you to endure *counsel

The stroke of fortune or of aventure."

And she again answer'd in patience:

"My Lord," quoth she, "I know, and knew alway,

How that betwixte your magnificence

And my povert' no wight nor can nor may

Make comparison, it *is no nay;* *cannot be denied*

I held me never digne* in no mannere *worthy

To be your wife, nor yet your chamberere.* *chamber-maid

"And in this house, where ye me lady made,

(The highe God take I for my witness,

And all so wisly* he my soule glade),** *surely **gladdened

I never held me lady nor mistress,

But humble servant to your worthiness,

And ever shall, while that my life may dure,

Aboven every worldly creature.

"That ye so long, of your benignity,

Have holden me in honour and nobley,* *nobility

Where as I was not worthy for to be,

That thank I God and you, to whom I pray