For, God so wisly3384 have mercý on me,
I had well lever sticked for to be,3385
For very lovë which I to you have,
But if ye should your trothë keep and save.
Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.”
But with that word he burst anon to weep,
And said; “I you forbid, on pain of death,
That never, while you lasteth life or breath,
To no wight tell ye this misáventúre;
As I may best, I will my woe endure,
Nor make no countenance of heaviness,
That folk of you may deemë harm, or guess.”
And forth he call’d a squiër and a maid.
“Go forth anon with Dorigen,” he said,
“And bringë her to such a place anon.”
They take their leave, and on their way they gon:
But they not wistë why she thither went;
He would to no wight tellë his intent.
This squiër, which that hight Aurelius,
On Dorigen that was so amorous,
Of áventúrë happen’d her to meet
Amid the town, right in the quickest3386 street,
As she was bound3387 to go the way forthright
Toward the garden, there as she had hight.3388
And he was to the garden-ward also;
For well he spiëd when she wouldë go
Out of her house, to any manner place;
But thus they met, of áventúre or grace,
And he saluted her with glad intent,
And asked of her whitherward she went.
And she answered, half as she were mad,
“Unto the garden, as my husband bade,
My trothë for to hold, alas! alas!”
Aurelius gan to wonder on this case,
And in his heart had great compassión
Of her, and of her lamentatión,
And of Arviragus, the worthy knight,
That bade her hold all that she haddë hight;
So loth him was his wife should break her truth
And in his heart he caught of it great ruth,3389
Considering the best on every side,
That from his lust yet were him lever3390 abide,
Than do so high a churlish wretchedness3391
Against franchise,3392 and allë gentleness;
For which in fewë words he saidë thus;
“Madame, say to your lord Arviragus,
That since I see the greatë gentleness
Of him, and eke I see well your distress,
That him were lever3393 have shame (and that were ruth3394)
Than ye to me should breakë thus your truth,
I had well lever aye to suffer woe,
Than to depart3395 the love betwixt you two.
I you release, Madame, into your hond,
Quit ev’ry surëment3396 and ev’ry bond,
That ye have made to me as herebeforn,
Since thilkë timë that ye werë born.
Have here my truth, I shall you ne’er repreve3397
Of no behest;3398 and here I take my leave,
As of the truest and the bestë wife
That ever yet I knew in all my life.
But every wife beware of her behest;
On Dorigen remember at the least.
Thus can a squiër do a gentle deed,
As well as can a knight, withoutë drede.”3399
She thanked him upon her kneës bare,
And home unto her husband is she fare,3400
And told him all, as ye have heardë said;
And, trustë me, he was so well apaid,3401
That it were impossíble me to write.
Why should I longer of this case indite?
Arviragus and Dorigen his wife
In sov’reign blissë leddë forth their life;
Ne’er after was there anger them between;
He cherish’d her as though she were a queen,
And she was to him true for evermore;
Of these two folk ye get of me no more.
Aurelius, that his cost had all forlorn,3402
Cursed the time that ever he was born.
“Alas!” quoth he, “alas that I behight3403
Of pured3404 gold a thousand pound of weight
To this philosopher! how shall I do?
I see no more, but that I am fordo.3405
Mine heritagë must I needës sell,
And be a beggar; here I will not dwell,
And shamen all my kindred in this place,
But3406 I of him may gettë better grace.
But natheless I will of him assay
At certain dayës year by year to pay,
And thank him of his greatë courtesy.
My trothë will I keep, I will not lie.”
With heartë sore he went unto his coffer,
And broughtë gold unto this philosópher,
The value of five hundred pound, I guess,
And him beseeched, of his gentleness,
To grant him dayës of3407 the remenant;
And said; “Master, I dare well make avaunt,
I failed never of my truth as yet.
For sickerly my debtë shall be quit
Towardës you how so that e’er I fare
To go a-begging in my kirtle bare:
But would ye vouchësafe, upon suretý,
Two year, or three, for to respitë me,
Then were I well, for ellës must I sell
Mine heritage; there is no more to tell.”
This philosópher soberly3408 answér’d,
And saidë thus, when he these wordës heard;
“Have I not holden covenant to thee?”
“Yes, certes, well and truëly,” quoth he.
“Hast thou not had thy lady as thee liked?”
“No, no,” quoth he, and sorrowfully siked.3409
“What was the causë? tell me if thou can.”
Aurelius his tale anon began,
And told him all as ye have heard before,
It needeth not to you rehearse it more.
He said, “Arviragus of gentleness
Had lever3410 die in sorrow and distress,
Than that his wife were of her trothë false.”
The sorrow of Dorigen he told him als’,3411
How loth her was to be a wicked wife,
And that she lever had lost that day her life;
And that her troth she swore through innocénce;
She ne’er erst3412 had heard speak of apparence;3413
That made me have of her so great pitý,
And right as freely as he sent her to me,
As freely sent I her to him again:
This is all and some, there is no more to sayn.
The philosópher answer’d; “Levë3414 brother,
Evereach of you did gently to the other;
Thou art a squiër, and he is a knight,
But God forbiddë, for his blissful might,
But if a clerk could do a gentle deed
As well as any of you, it is no drede.3415
Sir, I releasë thee
