Ye seemed by your speech and your viságe,
The day that maked was our marriáge!
“But sooth is said—algate2635 I find it true,
For in effect it proved is on me—
Love is not old as when that it is new.
But certes, Lord, for no adversity,
To dien in this case, it shall not be
That e’er in word or work I shall repent
That I you gave mine heart in whole intent.
“My Lord, ye know that in my father’s place
Ye did me strip out of my poorë weed,2636
And richëly ye clad me of your grace;
To you brought I nought ellës, out of dread,
But faith, and nakedness, and maidenhead;
And here again your clothing I restore,
And eke your wedding ring for evermore.
“The remnant of your jewels ready be
Within your chamber, I dare safely sayn:
Naked out of my father’s house,” quoth she,
“I came, and naked I must turn again.
All your pleasance would I follow fain:2637
But yet I hope it be not your intent
That smockless2638 I out of your palace went.
“Ye could not do so dishonést2639 a thing,
That thilkë2640 womb, in which your children lay,
Shouldë before the people, in my walking,
Be seen all bare: and therefore I you pray,
Let me not like a worm go by the way:
Remember you, mine owen Lord so dear,
I was your wife, though I unworthy were.
“Wherefore, in guerdon2641 of my maidenhead,
Which that I brought and not again I bear,
As vouchësafe to give me to my meed2642
But such a smock as I was wont to wear,
That I therewith may wrie2643 the womb of her
That was your wife: and here I take my leave
Of you, mine owen Lord, lest I you grieve.”
“The smock,” quoth he, “that thou hast on thy back,
Let it be still, and bear it forth with thee.”
But well unnethës2644 thilkë word he spake,
But went his way for ruth and for pitý.
Before the folk herselfë stripped she,
And in her smock, with foot and head all bare,
Toward her father’s house forth is she fare.2645
The folk her follow’d weeping on her way,
And fortune aye they cursed as they gon:2646
But she from weeping kept her eyen drey,2647
Nor in this timë wordë spake she none.
Her father, that this tiding heard anon,
Cursed the day and timë, that natúre
Shope2648 him to be a living creatúre.
For, out of doubt, this oldë poorë man
Was ever in suspéct of her marriáge:
For ever deem’d he, since it first began,
That when the lord fulfill’d had his coráge,2649
He wouldë think it were a disparáge2650
To his estate, so low for to alight,
And voidë2651 her as soon as e’er he might.
Against2652 his daughter hastily went he
(For he by noise of folk knew her coming),
And with her oldë coat, as it might be,
He cover’d her, full sorrowfully weepíng:
But on her body might he it not bring,2653
For rudë was the cloth, and more of age
By dayës fele2654 than at her marriáge.
Thus with her father for a certain space
Dwelled this flow’r of wifely patience,
That neither by her words nor by her face,
Before the folk nor eke in their absence,
Ne shewed she that her was done offence,
Nor of her high estate no rémembránce
Ne haddë she, as by2655 her countenance.
No wonder is, for in her great estate
Her ghost2656 was ever in plein2657 humility;
No tender mouth, no heartë delicate,
No pomp, and no semblánt of royalty;
But full of patient benignity,
Discreet and pridëless, aye honouráble,
And to her husband ever meek and stable.
Men speak of Job, and most for his humbléss,
As clerkës, when them list, can well indite,
Namely2658 of men; but, as in soothfastness,
Though clerkës praisë women but a lite,2659
There can no man in humbless him acquite
As women can, nor can be half so true
As women be, but it be fall of new.2660
Pars Sexta
From Bologn’ is the earl of Panic’ come,
Of which the fame up sprang to more and less;
And to the people’s earës all and some
Was know’n eke, that a newë marchioness
He with him brought, in such pomp and richéss
That never was there seen with mannë’s eye
So noble array in all West Lombardy.
The marquis, which that shope2661 and knew all this,
Ere that the earl was come, sent his messáge2662
For thilkë poorë sely2663 Griseldis;
And she, with humble heart and glad viságe,
Nor with no swelling thought in her coráge,2664
Came at his hest,2665 and on her knees her set,
And rev’rently and wisely she him gret.2666
“Griseld’,” quoth he, “my will is utterly,
This maiden, that shall wedded be to me,
Received be to-morrow as royally
As it possible is in my house to be;
And eke that every wight in his degree
Have his estate2667 in sitting and servíce,
And in high pleasance, as I can devise.
“I have no women sufficient, certáin,
The chambers to array in ordinance
After my lust;2668 and therefore would I fain
That thine were all such manner governance:
Thou knowest eke of old all my pleasánce;
Though thine array be bad, and ill besey,2669
Do thou thy dévoir at the leastë way.”2670
“Not only, Lord, that I am glad,” quoth she,
“To do your lust, but I desire also
You for to serve and please in my degree,
Withoutë fainting, and shall evermo’:
Nor ever for no weal, nor for no woe,
Ne shall the ghost2671 within mine heartë stent2672
To love you best with all my true intent.”
And with that word she gan the house to dight,2673
And tables for to set, and beds to make,
And pained her2674 to do all that she might,
Praying the chamberéres for Goddë’s sake
To hasten them, and fastë sweep
