"Certes, Grisilde, I had ynough plesance
To han you to my wif, for your goodnesse,
And for your trouthe, and for your obeysance,
Not for your linage, ne for your richesse,
But now know I in very sothfastnesse,
That in gret lordship, if I me wel avise,
Ther is gret servitude in sondry wise.
“I may not don, as every ploughman may :
My peple me constreineth for to take
Another wif, and crien day by day;
And eke the pope rancour for to slake
Consenteth it, that dare I undertake :
And trewely, thus moche I wol you say,
My newe wif is coming by the way.
"Be strong of herte, and voide anon hire place,
And thilke dower that ye broughten me
Take it agen, I grant it of my grace.
Returneth to your fadres hous," quod he,
"No man may alway have prosperitee.
With even herte I rede you to endure
The stroke of fortune, or of aventure."
And she agen answerd in patience :
"My lord," quod she, "I wote, and wist alway,
How that betwixen your magnificence
And my poverte no wight ne can ne may
Maken comparison, it is no nay;
I ne held me never digne in no manere
To be your wif, ne yet your chamberere.
"And in this hous, ther ye me lady made,
(The highe God take I for my witnesse,
And all so wisly he my soule glad)
I never held me lady ne maistresse,
But humble servant to your worthinesse,
And ever shal, while that my lif may dure,
Aboven every worldly creature.
"That ye so longe of your benignitee
Han holden me in honour and nobley,
Wheras I was not worthy for to be,
That thanke I God and you, to whom I prey
Foryelde it you, ther is no more to sey:
Unto my fader gladly wol I wende,
And with him dwell unto my lives ende ;
"Ther I was fostred of a childe ful smal, Til I be ded my lif ther wol I lede,
A widew clene in body, herte and al. For sith I yave to you my maidenhede, And am your trewe wif, it is no drede, God shilde swiche a lordes wif to take Another man to husbond or to make.
"And of your newe wif, God of his grace So graunte you wele and prosperite : For I wol gladly yelden hire my place, In which that I was blisful wont to be. For sith it liketh you, my lord," quod she, "That whilom weren all myn hertes rest, That I shal gon, I wol go whan you lest.
"But ther as ye me profre swiche dowaire
As I first brought, it is wel in my mind,
It were my wretched clothes, nothing faire,
The which to me were hard now for to find.
O goode God! how gentil and how kind
Ye semed by your speche and your visage,
The day that maked was oure marriage!
"But soth is said, algate I find it trewe,
For in effect it preved is on me,
Love is not old, as whan that it is newe.
But certes, lord, for non adversitee
To dien in this cas, it shal not be
That ever in word or werke I shal repent,
That I you yave min herte in hole entent.
"My lord, ye wote, that in my fadres place
Ye dide me stripe out of my poure wede,
And richely ye clad me of your grace ;
To you brought I nought elles out of drede,
But faith, and nakednesse, and maidenhede;
And here agen your clothing I restore,
And eke your wedding ring for evermore.
"The remenant of your jeweles redy be Within your chambre, I dare it safly sain: Naked out of my fadres hous," quod she, "I came, and naked I mote turne again. All your plesance wolde I folwe fain : But yet I hope it be not your entent, That I smokles out of your paleis went.
"Ye coude not do so dishonest a thing,
That thilke wombe, in which your children lay,
Shulde before the peple, in my walking,
Be seen al bare! wherfore I you pray
Let me not like a worme go by the way!
Remembre you, min owen lord so dere,
I was your wif, though I unworthy were.
"Wherfore in guerdon of my maidenhede,
Which that I brought and not agen I bere,
As vouchesauf to yeve me to my mede
But swiche a smok as I was wont to were,
That I therwith may wrie the wombe of hire
That was your wif: and here I take my leve
Of you, min owen lord, lest I you greve."
"The smok," quod he, "that thou hast on thy bake,
Let it be still, and bere it forth with thee."
But wel unnethes thilke word he spake,
But went his way for routhe and for pitee.
Before the folk hireselven stripeth she,
And in hire smok, with foot and hed al bare,
Toward hire fadres hous forth is she fare.
The folk hire folwen weping in hir wey,
And fortune ay they cursen as they gon:
But she fro weping kept hire eyen drey,
Ne in this time word ne spake she non.
Hire fader, that this tiding herd anon,
Curseth the day and time, that nature
Shope him to ben a lives creature.
For out of doute this olde poure man
Was ever in suspect of hire mariage:
For ever he demed, sin it first began,
That whan the lord fulfilled had his corage,
Him wolde thinke it were a disparage
To his estat, so lowe for to alight,
And voiden hire as soone as ever he might.
Agein his doughter hastily goth he,
(For he by noise of folk knew hire coming)
And with hire olde cote, as it might be,
He covereth hire ful sorwefully weping:
But on hire body might he it not bring,
For rude was the cloth, and more of age
By daies fele than at hire mariage.
Thus with hire fader for a certain space
Dwelleth this flour of wifly patience,
That nother by hire wordes ne hire face,
Beforn the folk, ne eke in hir absence,
Ne shewed she that hire was don offence,
Ne of hire high estat no remembrance
Ne hadde she, as by hire contenance.
No wonder is, for in hire gret estat
Hire gost was ever in pleine humilitee;
No tendre mouth, no herte delicat,
No pompe, no semblant of realtee;
But ful of patient benignitee,
Discrete, and prideles, ay honourable,
And to hire husbond ever meke and stable.
Men speke of Job, and most for his humblesse,
As clerkes, whan hem list, can wel endite,
Namely of men, but as in sothfastnesse,
Though clerkes preisen women but a lite,
Ther can no man in humblesse him acquite
As woman can, ne can be half so trewe,
As women ben, but it be falle of newe.
FRO Boloigne is the erl of Pavie come,
Of which the fame up sprang to more and lesse :
And to the peples eres all and some
Was couth eke, that a newe markisesse
He with him brought, in swiche pomp and richesse,
That never was ther seen with mannes eye
So noble array in al West Lumbardie.
The markis, which that shope and knew all this,
Er that this erl was come, sent his message
For thilke poure sely Grisildis;
And she with humble herte and glad visage,
Not with no swollen thought in hire corage,
Came at his hest, and on hire knees hire sette,
And reverently and wisely she him grette.
"Grisilde," quod he, " my will is utterly, This maiden, that shal wedded be to me,
Received be to-morwe as really
As it possible is in myn hous to be: And eke that every wight in his degree Have his estat in sitting and service, And high plesance, as I can best devise.
"I have no woman suffisant certain
The chambres for to array in ordinance
After my lust, and therfore wolde I fain,
That thin were all swiche manere governance:
Thou knowest eke of old all my plesance;
Though thin array be bad, and evil besey,
Do thou thy devoir at the leste wey."
"Not only, lord, that I am glad,” quod she, "To don your lust, but I desire also You for to serve and plese in my degree, Withouten fainting, and shal evermo : Ne never for no wele, ne for no wo, Ne shal the gost within myn herte stente To love you best with all my trewe entente."
And with that word she gan the hous to dight,
And tables for to sette, and beddes make,
And peined hire to don all that she might,
Praying the chambererers for Goddes sake
To hasten hem, and faste swepe and shake,
And she the moste serviceable of all
Hath every chamber arraied, and his hall.
Abouten undern gan this erl alight,
That with him brought thise noble children twey; For which the peple ran to see the sight
Of hir array, so richely besey:
And than at erst amonges hem they sey,
That Walter was no fool, though that him lest
To change his wif; for it was for the best.
For she is fairer, as they demen all,
Than is Grisilde, and more tendre of age,
And fairer fruit betwene hem shuld fall,
And more plesant for hire high linage:
Hire brother eke so faire was of visage
That hem to seen the peple hath caught plesance,
Commending now the markis governance.
"O stormy peple, unsad and ever untrewe,
And undiscrete, and changing as a fane,
Delighting ever in rombel that is newe,
For like the mone waxen ye and wane :
Ay ful of clapping, dere ynough a jane,
Your dome is fals, your constance evil preveth,
A ful gret fool is he that on you leveth."
Thus saiden sade folk in that citee,
Whan that the peple gased up and doun :
For they were glad, right for the noveltee,
To have a newe lady of hir toun.
No more of this make I now mentioun,
But to Grisilde agen I wol me dresse,
And telle hire constance and hire besinesse.
Ful besy was Grisilde in every thing,
That to the feste was appertinent;
Right naught was she abaist of hire clothing,
Though it were rude, and somdel eke to-rent,
But with glad chere to the yate is went
With other folk, to grete the markisesse,
And after that doth forth hire besinesse.
With so glad chere his gestes she receiveth,
And conningly everich in his degree,
That no defaute no man apperceiveth,
But ay they wondren what she might be,
That in so poure array was for to see,
And coude swiche honour and reverence,
And worthily they preisen hire prudence.
In all this mene while she ne stent
This maide and eke hire brother to commend
With all hire herte in ful benigne entent,
So wel, that no man coud hire preise amend :
But at the last whan that thise lordes wend
To sitten doun to mete, he gan to call
Grisilde, as she was besy in the hall.
"Grisilde," quod he, as it were in his play, "How liketh thee my wif, and hire beautee?" “Right wel, my lord," quod she, " for in good fay, A fairer saw I never non than she : I pray to God yeve you prosperitee; And so I hope, that he wol to you send Plesance ynough unto your lives end.
"O thing beseche I you and warne also,
That ye ne prikke with no turmenting
This tendre maiden, as ye han do mo:
For she is fostred in hire norishing
More tendrely, and to my supposing
She might not adversitee endure,
As coude a poure fostred creature."
And whan this Walter saw hire patience,
Hire glade chere, and no malice at all,
And he so often hadde hire don offence,
And she ay sade and constant as a wall,
Continuing ever hire innocence over all,
This sturdy markis gan his herte dresse,
To rewe upon hire wifly stedefastnesse."
"This is ynough, Grisilde min," quod he,
"Be now no more agast, ne evil apaid,
I have thy faith and thy benignitee,
As wel as ever woman was, assaid
I gret estat, and pourelich arraied :
Now know I, dere wif, thy stedefastnesse,"
And hire in armes toke, and gan to kesse,
And she for wonder toke of it no kepe;
She herde not what thing he to hire said:
She ferde as she had stert out of a slepe,
Til she out of hire masednesse abraid.
"Grisilde," quod he, " by God that for us deid,
Thou art my wif, non other I ne have,
Ne never had, as God my soule save.'
"This is thy doughter, which thou hast supposed
To be my wif; that other faithfully
Shal be min heir, as I have ay disposed;
Thou bare hem of thy body trewely:
At Boloigne have I kept hem prively :
Take hem agen, for now maist thou not say,
That thou hast lorn non of thy children tway.
"And folk that otherwise han said of me,
I warne hem wel, that I have don this dede
For no malice, ne for no crueltee,
But for to assay in thee thy womanhede :
And not to slee my children (God forbede)
But for to kepe hem prively and still,
Til I thy purpos knew, and all thy will,"
Whan she this herd aswoune doun she falleth
For pitous joye, and after hire swouning
She both hire yonge children to hire calleth,
And in hire armes pitously weping
Embraceth hem, and tendrely kissing
Ful like a moder with hire salte teres
She bathed both hir visage and hir heres.
O, which a pitous thing it was to see
Hire swouning, and hire humble vois to here! "Grand mercy, lord, God thank it you," quod she, "That ye han saved me my children dere: Now rekke I never to be ded right here, Sin I stond in your love, and in your grace, No force of deth, ne whan my spirit pace.
"O tendre, o dere, o yonge children mine,
Your woful mother wened stedfastly,
That cruel houndes, or som foul vermine
Had eten you ; but God of his mercy,
And your benigne fader tendrely
Hath don you kepe:" and in that same stound
Al sodenly she swapt adoun to ground.
And in hire swough so sadly holdeth she
Hire children two, whan she gan hem embrace,
That with gret sleight and gret difficultee
The children from hire arm they gan arrace.
0! many a tere on many a pitous face
Doun ran of hem that stoden hire beside,
Unnethe abouten hire might they abide.
Walter hire gladeth, and hire sorwe slaketh,
She riseth up abashed from hire trance,
And every wight hire joye and feste maketh,
Til she hath caught agen hire contenance.
Walter hire doth so faithfully plesance,
That it was deintee for to seen the chere
Betwix hem two, sin they ben met in fere.
Thise ladies, whan that they hir time sey,
Han taken hire, and into chambre gon,
And stripen hire out of hire rude arrey,
And in a cloth of gold that brighte shone,
With a coroune of many a riche stone
Upon hire hed, they into hall hire broughte:
And ther she was honoured as hire ought.
Thus hath this pitous day a blisful end;
For every man, and woman, doth his might
This day in mirth and revel to dispend,
Til on the welkin shone the sterres bright:
For more solempne in every mannes sight
This feste was, and greter of costage,
Than was the revel of hire mariage.
Ful many a yere in high prosperitee
Liven thise two in concord and in rest,
And richely his doughter maried he
Unto a lord, on of the worthiest
Of all Itallie, and than in pees and rest
His wives fader in his court he kepeth,
Til that the soule out of his body crepeth.
His sone succedeth in his heritage,
In rest and pees, after his fadres day :
And fortunat was eke in mariage,
Al put he not his wif in gret assay:
This world is not so strong, it is no nay,
As it hath ben in olde times yore,
And herkneth, what this auctour saith therfore.
This story is said, not for that wives shuld
Folwe Grisilde, as in humilitee,
For it were importable, tho they wold;
But for that every wight in his degree
Shulde be constant in adversitee,
As was Grisilde, therfore Petrark writeth
This storie, which with high stile he enditeth.
For sith a woman was so patient
Unto a mortal man, wel more we ought
Receiven all in gree that God us sent.
For gret skill is he preve that he wrought:
But he ne tempteth no man that he bought,
As saith seint Jame, if ye his pistell rede;
He preveth folk al day, it is no drede :
And suffreth us, as for our exercise,
With sharpe scourges of adversitee
Ful often to be bete in sondry wise;
Not for to know our will, for certes he,
Or we were borne, knew all our freeletee;
And for our best is all his governance;
Let us than live in vertuous suffrance.
But o word, lordings, herkeneth, or I go :
It were ful hard to finden now adayes
In all a toun Grisildes three or two:
For if that they were put to swiche assayes,
The gold of hem hath now so bad alayes
With bras, that though the coine be faire at eye,
It wolde rather brast atwo than plie.
For which here, for the wives love of Bathe,
Whos lif and al hire secte God maintene
In high maistrie, and elles were it scathe,
I wol with lusty herte freshe and grene,
Say you a song to gladen you, I wene:
And let us stint of ernestful matere.
Herkneth my song, that saith in this manere.
Grisilde is ded, and eke hire patience,
And both at ones buried in Itaille:
For which I crie in open audience,
No wedded man so hardy be to assaille
His wives patience, in trust to find
Grisildes, for in certain he shal faille.
O noble wives, ful of high prudence,
Let non humilitee your tonges naile :
Ne let no clerk have cause or diligence
To write of you a storie of swiche mervaille,
As of Grisildis patient and kinde,
Lest Chichevache you swalwe in hire entraille.
Folweth Ecco, that holdeth no silence,
But ever answereth at the countretaille :
Beth not bedaffed for your innocence,
But sharply taketh on you the governaille :
Emprenteth wel this lesson in your minde,
For comun profit, sith it may availle.
Ye archewives, stondeth ay at defence,
Sin ye be strong, as is a gret camaille,
Ne suffreth not, that men do you offence.
And sclendre wives, feble as in bataille,
Beth egre as is a tigre yond in Inde;
Ay clappeth as a mill, I you counsaille.
Ne drede hem not, doth hem no reverence, For though thin husbond armed be in maille,
The arwes of thy crabbed eloquence
Shal perce his brest, and eke his aventaille :
In jalousie I rede eke thou him binde,
And thou shalt make him couche as doth a quaille.
If thou be faire, ther folk ben in presence
Shew thou thy visage, and thin apparaille :
If thou be foule, be free of thy dispence,
To get thee frendes ay do thy travaille :
Be ay of chere as light as lefe on linde,
And let him care, and wepe, and wringe, and waille.
Ar Sarra, in the lond of Tartarie,
Ther dwelt a king that werreied Russie,
Thurgh which ther died many a doughty man :
This noble king was cleped Cambuscan,
Which in his time was of so gret renoun,
That ther na's no wher in no regioun,
So excellent a lord in alle thing:
Him lacked nought that longeth to a king,
As of the secte of which that he was borne.
He kept his lay to which he was ysworne,
And therto he was hardy, wise, and riche,
And pitous and just, and alway yliche,
Trewe of his word, benigne and honourable;
Of his corage as any centre stable;
Yong, fresh, and strong, in armes desirous,
As any bacheler of all his hous.
A faire person he was, and fortunate,
And kept alway so wel real estat,
That ther n'as no wher swiche another man.
This noble king, this Tartre Cambuscan,
Hadde two sones by Elfeta his wif,
Of which the eldest sone highte Algarsif,
That other was ycleped Camballo.
A doughter had this worthy king also,
That yongest was, and highte Canace:
But for to tellen you all hire beautee,
It lith not in my tonge, ne in my conning,
I dare not undertake so high a thing:
Min English eke is unsufficient,
It muste ben a Rethor excellent,
That coude his colours longing for that art,
If he shuld hire descriven ony part:
I am not swiche, I mote speke as I can.
And so befell, that whan this Cambuscan
Hath twenty winter borne his diademe,
As he was wont fro yere to yere I deme,
He let the feste of his nativitee
Don crien, thurghout Sarra his citee,
The last Idus of March, after the yere.
Phebus the sonne ful jolif was and clere,
For he was nigh his exaltation
In Martes face, and in his mansion
In Aries, the colerike hote signe :
Ful lusty was the wether and benigne
For which the foules again the sonne shene,
What for the seson ane the yonge grene,
Ful loude songen hir affections:
Hem semed han getten hem protections
Again the swerd of winter kene and cold.
This Cambuscan, of which I have you told,
In real vestiments, sit on his deis
With diademe, ful high in his paleis ;
And holte his feste so solempne and so riche,
That in this world ne was ther non it liche,
Of which if I shal tellen all the array,
Than wold it occupie a somers day;
And eke it nedeth not for to devise
At every cours the order of hir service.
I wol not tellen of hir strange sewes,
Ne of hir swannes, ne hir heronsewes.
Eke in that lond, as tellen knightes old,
Ther is som mete that is ful deintee hold,
That in this lond men recche of it ful smal:
Ther n'is no man that may reporten al.
I wol not tarien you, for it is prime,
And for it is no fruit, but losse of time,
Unto my purpose I wol have recours.
And so befell that after the thridde cours
While that this king sit thus in his nobley,
Herking his ministralles hir thinges pley
Before him at his bord deliciously,
In at the halle dore al sodenly
Ther came a knight upon a stede of bras,
And in his hond a brod mirrour of glas;
Upon his thombe he had of gold a ring,
And by his side a naked swerde hanging:
And up he rideth to the highe bord.
In all the halle ne was ther spoke a word,
For mervaille of this knight; him to behold
Ful besily they waiten yong and old.
This strange knight that come thus sodenly
Al armed save his hed ful richely,
Salueth king and quene, and lordes alle
By order, as they saten in the halle,
With so high reverence and observance,
As wel in speche as in his contenance,
That Gawain with his olde curtesie,
Though he were come agen out of Faerie,
Ne coude him not amenden with a word.
And after this, beforn the highe bord
He with a manly vois sayd his message,
After the forme used in his langage,
Withouten vice of sillable or of letter.
And for his tale shulde seme the better,
Accordant to his wordes was his chere,
As techeth art of speche hem that it lere.
Al be it that I cannot soune his stile,
Ne cannot climben over so high a stile,
Yet say I this, as to comun entent,
Thus much amounteth all that ever he ment,
If it so be that I have it in mind.
He sayd; "The king of Arabie and of Inde, My liege lord, on this solempne day Salueth you as he best can and may, And sendeth you in honour of your feste By me, that am al redy at your heste,
This stede of bras, that esily and wel
Can in the space of a day naturel,
(This is to sayn, in four and twenty houres)
Wher so you list, in drought or elles shoures,
Beren your body into every place,
To which your herte willeth for to pace,
Withouten wemme of you, thurgh foule or faire.
Or if you list to fleen as high in the aire,
As doth an egle, whan him list to sore,
This same stede shal bere you evermore
Withouten harme, till ye be ther you lest,
(Though that ye slepen on his back or rest)
And turne again, with writhing of a pin.
He that it wrought, he coude many a gin;
He waited many a constellation,
Or he had don this operation.
And knew ful many a sele and many a bond.
"This mirrour eke, that I have in min hond, Hath swiche a might, that men may in it see, Whan ther shal falle ony adversitee Unto your regne, or to yourself also, And openly, who is your frend or fo. And over all this, if any lady bright Hath set hire herte on any maner wight, If he be false, she shal his treson see, His newe love, and all his subtiltee So openly, that ther shal nothing hide. "Wherfore again this lusty somer tide This mirrour and this ring, that ye may se, He hath sent to my lady Canace, Your excellente doughter that is here.
"The vertue of this ring, if ye wol bere, Is this, that if hire list it for to were Upon hire thombe, or in hire purse it here, Ther is no foule that fleeth under heven, That she ne shal wel understond his steven, And know his mening openly and plaine, And answere him in his langage again : And every gras that groweth upon rote She shal eke know, and whom it wol do bote, All be his woundes never so depe and wide.
"This naked swerd, that hangeth by my side, Swiche vertue hath, that what man that it smite, Thurghout his armure it wol kerve and bite, Were it as thicke as is a braunched oke: And what man that is wounded with the stroke Shal never be hole, til that you list of grace To stroken him with the platte in thilke place Ther he is hurt; this is as much to sain, Ye moten with the plat e swerd again Stroken him in the wound, and it wol close. This is the veray soth withouten glose, It failleth not, while it is in your hold."
And whan this knight hath thus his tale told,
He rideth out of halle, and doun he light:
His stede, which that shone as sonne bright,
Stant in the court as stille as any ston.
This knight is to his chambre ladde anon,
And is unarmed, and to the mete ysette.
Thise presents ben ful richelich yfette,
This is to sain, the swerd and the mirrour,
And borne anon into the highe tour,
With certain officers ordained therfore;
And unto Canace the ring is bore
Solempnely, ther she sat at the table;
But sikerly, withouten any fable,
The hors of bras, that may not be remued;
It stant, as were to the ground yglued;
Ther may no man out of the place it drive
For non engine, of windas, or polive:
And cause why, for they con not the craft,
And therfore in the place they han it laft,
Til that the knight hath taught hem the manere
To voiden him, as ye shal after here.
Gret was the prees that swarmed to and fro
To gauren on this hors that stondeth so:
For it so high was, and so brod and long,
So wel proportioned for to be strong,
Right as it were a stede of Lumbardie;
Therwith so horsly, and so quik of eye,
As it a gentil Poileis courser were:
For certes, fro his tayl unto his ere
Nature ne art ne coud him not amend
In no degree, as all the peple wend.
But evermore hir moste wonder was, How that it coude gon, and was of bras;
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