was to him in love, and more penible.2606

For which it seemed thus, that of them two
There was but one will; for, as Walter lest,2607
The same pleasáncë was her lust also;
And, God be thanked, all fell for the best.
She shewed well, for no worldly unrest,
A wife as of herself no thingë should
Will, in effect, but as her husband would.

The sland’r of Walter wondrous widë sprad,
That of a cruel heart he wickedly,
For2608 he a poorë woman wedded had,
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 diffame2609
Made them that they him hated therëfore.
To be a murd’rer is a hateful name.
But natheless, for earnest or for game,
He of his cruel purpose would not stent;2610
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 messáge,2611
Commanding him such bullës to devise
As to his cruel purpose may suffice,
How that the Popë, for his people’s rest,
Bade him to wed another, if him lest.2612

I say he bade they shouldë counterfeit
The Pope’s bullës, making mentión
That he had leave his firstë wife to lete,2613
As by the Popë’s dispensatión,
To stintë2614 rancour and dissensión
Betwixt his people and him: thus spake the bull,
The which they havë published at full.

The rudë people, as no wonder is,
Weened2615 full well that it had been right so:
But, when these tidings came to Griseldis.
I deemë that her heart was full of woe;
But she, alikë sad2616 for evermo’,
Disposed was, this humble creatúre,
Th’ adversity of fortune all t’ endure;

Abiding ever his lust and his pleasánce,
To whom that she was given, heart and all,
As to her very worldly suffisance.2617
But, shortly if this story tell I shall,
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 haddë tho2618
Wedded his sister, pray’d he specially
To bringë 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,
Shouldë not tell whose children that they were,

But say, the maiden should y-wedded be
Unto the marquis of Salúce anon.
And as this earl was prayed, so did he,
For, at day set, he on his way is gone
Toward Salúce, and lordës many a one
In rich array, this maiden for to guide⁠—
Her youngë brother riding her beside.

Arrayed was toward2619 her marriáge
This freshë maiden, full of gemmës clear;
Her brother, which that seven year was of age,
Arrayed eke full fresh in his mannére:
And thus, in great nobléss, and with glad cheer,
Toward Saluces shaping their journéy,
From day to day they rode upon their way.

Pars Quinta

Among all this,2620 after his wick’ uságe,
The marquis, yet his wife to temptë more
To the uttermost proof of her coráge,
Fully to have experience and lore2621
If that she were as steadfast as before,
He on a day, in open audience,
Full boisterously said her this senténce:

“Certes, Griseld’, I had enough pleasánce
To have you to my wife, for your goodness,
And for your truth, and for your obeisánce,
Not for your lineage, nor for your richéss;
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 Popë, rancour for to slake,
Consenteth it, that dare I undertake:
And truëly, thus much I will you say,
My newë wife is coming by the way.

“Be strong of heart, and void anon2622 her place;
And thilkë2623 dower that ye brought to me,
Take it again, I grant it of my grace.
Returnë to your father’s house,” quoth he;
“No man may always have prosperity;
With even heart I rede2624 you to endure
The stroke of fortune or of áventúre.”

And she again answér’d in patience:
“My Lord,” quoth she, “I know, and knew alway,
How that betwixtë your magnificence
And my povert’ no wight nor can nor may
Make comparison, it is no nay;2625
I held me never digne2626 in no mannére
To be your wife, nor yet your chamberére.2627

“And in this house, where ye me lady made,
(The highë God take I for my witness,
And all so wisly2628 he my soulë glade),
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 creatúre.

“That ye so long, of your benignity,
Have holden me in honour and nobley,2629
Where as I was not worthy for to be,
That thank I God and you, to whom I pray
Foryield2630 it you; there is no more to say:
Unto my father gladly will I wend,2631
And with him dwell, unto my lifë’s end,

“Where I was foster’d as a child full small,
Till I be dead my life there will I lead,
A widow clean in body, heart, and all.
For since I gave to you my maidenhead,
And am your truë wife, it is no dread,2632
God shieldë2633 such a lordë’s wife to take
Another man to husband or to make.2634

“And of your newë wife, God of his grace
So grant you weal and all prosperity:
For I will gladly yield to her my place,
In which that I was blissful wont to be.
For since it liketh you, my Lord,” quoth she,
“That whilom weren all mine heartë’s rest,
That I shall go, I will go when you lest.

“But whereas ye me proffer such dowaire
As I first brought, it is well in my mind,
It was my wretched clothës, nothing fair,
The which to me were hard now for to find.
O

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