For to be held stable and eke secré,2049
And in one purpose steadfastly to dwell,
And not bewray a thing that men us tell.
But that tale is not worth a rakë-stele.2050
Pardie, we women cannë nothing hele,2051
Witness on Midas; will ye hear the tale?
Ovid, amongës other thingës smale,2052
Saith, Midas had, under his longë hairs,
Growing upon his head two ass’s ears;
The whichë vice he hid, as best he might,
Full subtlely from every man’s sight,
That, save his wife, there knew of it no mo’;
He lov’d her most, and trusted her also;
He prayed her, that to no creature
She wouldë tellen of his disfigúre.2053
She swore him, nay, for all the world to win,
She would not do that villainy or sin,
To make her husband have so foul a name:
She would not tell it for her owen shame.
But natheless her thoughtë that she died,
That she so longë should a counsel hide;
Her thought it swell’d so sore about her heart,
That needës must some word from her astart;
And, since she durst not tell it unto man,
Down to a marish fast thereby she ran,
Till she came there, her heart was all afire:
And, as a bittern bumbles2054 in the mire,
She laid her mouth unto the water down.
“Bewray me not, thou water, with thy soun’,”2055
Quoth she, “to thee I tell it, and no mo’,
Mine husband hath long ass’s earës two!
Now is mine heart all whole; now is it out;
I might no longer keep it, out of doubt.”
Here may ye see, though we a time abide,
Yet out it must, we can no counsel hide.
The remnant of the tale, if ye will hear,
Read in Ovíd, and there ye may it lear.2056
This knight, of whom my tale is specially,
When that he saw he might not come thereby—
That is to say, what women love the most—
Within his breast full sorrowful was his ghost.2057
But home he went, for he might not sojourn,
The day was come, that homeward he must turn.
And in his way it happen’d him to ride,
In all his care,2058 under a forest side,
Where as he saw upon a dancë go
Of ladies four-and-twenty, and yet mo’,
Toward this ilkë2059 dance he drew full yern,2060
The hope that he some wisdom there should learn;
But certainly, ere he came fully there,
Y-vanish’d was this dance, he knew not where;
No creaturë saw he that bare life,
Save on the green he sitting saw a wife—
A fouler wight there may no man devise.2061
Against2062 this knight this old wife gan to rise,
And said, “Sir Knight, hereforth2063 lieth no way.
Tell me what ye are seeking, by your fay.2064
Paráventure it may the better be:
These oldë folk know muchë thing,” quoth she.
“My levë2065 mother,” quoth this knight, “certáin,
I am but dead, but if2066 that I can sayn
What thing it is that women most desire:
Could ye me wiss,2067 I would well quite your hire.”2068
“Plight me thy troth here in mine hand,” quoth she,
“The nextë thing that I require of thee
Thou shalt it do, if it be in thy might,
And I will tell it thee ere it be night.”
“Have here my trothë,” quoth the knight; “I grant.”
“Thennë,” quoth she, “I dare me well avaunt,2069
Thy life is safe, for I will stand thereby,
Upon my life the queen will say as I:
Let see, which is the proudest of them all,
That wears either a kerchief or a caul,
That dare say nay to that I shall you teach.
Let us go forth withoutë longer speech.”
Then rowned she a pistel2070 in his ear,
And bade him to be glad, and have no fear.
When they were come unto the court, this knight
Said, he had held his day, as he had hight,2071
And ready was his answer, as he said.
Full many a noble wife, and many a maid,
And many a widow, for that they be wise—
The queen herself sitting as a justíce—
Assembled be, his answer for to hear,
And afterward this knight was bid appear.
To every wight commanded was silénce,
And that the knight should tell in audience,
What thing that worldly women love the best.
This knight he stood not still, as doth a beast,
But to this questión anon answér’d
With manly voice, that all the court it heard,
“My liegë lady, generally,” quoth he,
“Women desire to have the sovereignty
As well over their husband as their love,
And for to be in mast’ry him above.
This is your most desire, though ye me kill,
Do as you list, I am here at your will.”
In all the court there was no wife nor maid,
Nor widow, that contráried what he said,
But said, he worthy was to have his life.
And with that word up start that oldë wife
Which that the knight saw sitting on the green.
“Mercy,” quoth she, “my sovereign lady queen,
Ere that your court departë, do me right.
I taughtë this answér unto this knight,
For which he plighted me his trothë there,
The firstë thing I would of him requere,
He would it do, if it lay in his might.
Before this court then pray I thee, Sir Knight,”
Quoth she, “that thou me take unto thy wife,
For well thou know’st that I have kept2072 thy life.
If I say false, say nay, upon thy fay.”2073
This knight answér’d, “Alas, and well-away!
I know right well that such was my behest.2074
For Goddë’s lovë choose a new request:
Take all my good, and let my body go.”
“Nay, then,” quoth she, “I shrew2075 us bothë two,
For though that I be old, and foul, and poor,
I n’ould2076 for all the metal nor the ore,
That under earth is grave,2077 or lies above,
But if thy wife I were and eke thy love.”
“My love?” quoth he, “nay, my damnatión,
Alas! that any of my natión
Should ever so foul disparáged be.”
But all for nought; the end
