The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems
And in she went withoute longer let* *delay
And to the marquis she her father fet.* *fetched
He by the hand then took the poore man,
And saide thus, when he him had aside:
“Janicola, I neither may nor can
Longer the pleasance of mine hearte hide;
If that thou vouchesafe, whatso betide,
Thy daughter will I take, ere that I wend,* *go
As for my wife, unto her life’s end.
“Thou lovest me, that know I well certain,
And art my faithful liegeman y-bore,* *born
And all that liketh me, I dare well sayn
It liketh thee; and specially therefore
Tell me that point, that I have said before, —
If that thou wilt unto this purpose draw,
To take me as for thy son-in-law.”
This sudden case* the man astonied so, *event
That red he wax’d, abash’d,* and all quaking *amazed
He stood; unnethes* said he wordes mo’, *scarcely
But only thus; “Lord,” quoth he, “my willing
Is as ye will, nor against your liking
I will no thing, mine owen lord so dear;
Right as you list governe this mattere.”
“Then will I,” quoth the marquis softely,
“That in thy chamber I, and thou, and she,
Have a collation;* and know’st thou why? *conference
For I will ask her, if her will it be
To be my wife, and rule her after me:
And all this shall be done in thy presence,
I will not speak out of thine audience.”* *hearing
And in the chamber while they were about
The treaty, which ye shall hereafter hear,
The people came into the house without,
And wonder’d them in how honest mannere
And tenderly she kept her father dear;
But utterly Griseldis wonder might,
For never erst* ne saw she such a sight. *before
No wonder is though that she be astoned,* *astonished
To see so great a guest come in that place,
She never was to no such guestes woned;* *accustomed, wont
For which she looked with full pale face.
But shortly forth this matter for to chase,* *push on, pursue
These are the wordes that the marquis said
To this benigne, very,* faithful maid. *true <6>
“Griseld’,” he said, “ye shall well understand,
It liketh to your father and to me
That I you wed, and eke it may so stand,
As I suppose ye will that it so be:
But these demandes ask I first,” quoth he,
“Since that it shall be done in hasty wise;
Will ye assent, or elles you advise?* *consider
“I say this, be ye ready with good heart
To all my lust,* and that I freely may, *pleasure
As me best thinketh, *do you* laugh or smart, *cause you to*
And never ye to grudge,* night nor day, *murmur
And eke when I say Yea, ye say not Nay,
Neither by word, nor frowning countenance?
Swear this, and here I swear our alliance.”
Wond’ring upon this word, quaking for dread,
She saide; “Lord, indigne and unworthy
Am I to this honour that ye me bede,* *offer
But as ye will yourself, right so will I:
And here I swear, that never willingly
In word or thought I will you disobey,
For to be dead; though me were loth to dey.”* *die
“This is enough, Griselda mine,” quoth he.
And forth he went with a full sober cheer,
Out at the door, and after then came she,
And to the people he said in this mannere:
“This is my wife,” quoth he, “that standeth here.
Honoure her, and love her, I you pray,
Whoso me loves; there is no more to say.”
And, for that nothing of her olde gear
She shoulde bring into his house, he bade
That women should despoile* her right there; *strip
Of which these ladies were nothing glad
To handle her clothes wherein she was clad:
But natheless this maiden bright of hue
From foot to head they clothed have all new.
Her haires have they comb’d that lay untress’d* *loose
Full rudely, and with their fingers small
A crown upon her head they have dress’d,
And set her full of nouches <7> great and small:
Of her array why should I make a tale?
Unneth* the people her knew for her fairness, *scarcely
When she transmuted was in such richess.
The marquis hath her spoused with a ring
Brought for the same cause, and then her set
Upon a horse snow-white, and well ambling,
And to his palace, ere he longer let* *delayed
With joyful people, that her led and met,
Conveyed her; and thus the day they spend
In revel, till the sunne gan descend.
And, shortly forth this tale for to chase,
I say, that to this newe marchioness
God hath such favour sent her of his grace,
That it ne seemed not by likeliness
That she was born and fed in rudeness, —
As in a cot, or in an ox’s stall, —
But nourish’d in an emperore’s hall.
To every wight she waxen* is so dear *grown
And worshipful, that folk where she was born,
That from her birthe knew her year by year,
*Unnethes trowed* they, but durst have sworn, *scarcely believed*
That to Janicol’ of whom I spake before,
She was not daughter, for by conjecture
Them thought she was another creature.
For though that ever virtuous was she,
She was increased in such excellence
Of thewes* good, y-set in high bounte, *qualities
And so discreet, and fair of eloquence,
So benign, and so digne* of reverence, *worthy
And coulde so the people’s heart embrace,
That each her lov’d that looked on her face.
Not only of Saluces in the town
Published was the bounte of her name,
But eke besides in many a regioun;
If one said well, another said the same:
So spread of here high bounte the fame,
That men and women, young as well as old,
Went to Saluces, her for to behold.
Thus Walter lowly, — nay, but royally,-
Wedded with fortn’ate honestete,* *virtue
In Godde’s peace lived full easily
At home, and outward grace enough had he:
And, for he saw that under low degree
Was honest virtue hid, the people him held
A prudent man, and that is seen full seld’.* *seldom
Not only this Griseldis through her wit
*Couth all the feat* of wifely homeliness, *knew all the duties*
But eke, when that the case required it,
The common profit coulde she redress:
There n’as discord, rancour, nor heaviness
In all the land, that she could not appease,
And wisely bring them all in rest and ease
Though that her husband absent were or non,* *not
If gentlemen or other of that country,
Were wroth,* she woulde bringe them at one, *at feud
So wise and ripe wordes hadde she,
And judgement of so great equity,
That she from heaven sent was, as men wend,* *weened, imagined
People to save, and every wrong t’amend
Not longe time after that this Griseld’
Was wedded, she a daughter had y-bore;
All she had lever* borne a knave** child, *rather **boy
Glad was the marquis and his folk therefore;
For, though a maiden child came all before,
She may unto a knave child attain
By likelihood, since she is not barren.
*Pars Tertia.* *Third Part*
There fell, as falleth many times mo’,
When that his child had sucked but a throw,* little while
This marquis in his hearte longed so
To tempt his wife, her sadness* for to know, *steadfastness
That he might not out of his hearte throw
This marvellous desire his wife t’asssay;* *try
Needless,* God wot, he thought her to affray.** *without cause
**alarm, disturb
He had assayed her anough before,
And found her ever good; what needed it
Her for to tempt, and always more and more?
Though some men praise it for a subtle wit,
But as for me, I say that *evil it sit* *it ill became him*
T’assay a wife when that it is no need,
And putte her in anguish and in dread.
For which this marquis wrought in this mannere:
He came at night alone there as she lay,
With sterne face and with full troubled cheer,
And saide thus; “Griseld’,” quoth he “that day
That I you took out of your poor array,
And put you in estate of high nobless,
Ye have it not forgotten, as I guess.
“I say, Griseld’, this present dignity,
In which that I have put you, as I trow* *believe
Maketh you not forgetful for to be
That I you took in poor estate full low,
For any weal you must yourselfe know.
Take heed of every word that I you say,
There is no wight that hears it but we tway.* *two
“Ye know yourself well how that ye came here
Into this house, it is not long ago;
And though to me ye be right lefe* and dear, *loved
Unto my gentles* ye be nothing so: *nobles, gentlefolk
They say, to them it is great shame and woe
For to be subject, and be in servage,
To thee, that born art of small lineage.
“And namely* since thy daughter was y-bore *especially
These wordes have they spoken doubteless;
But I desire, as I have done before,
To live my life with them in rest and peace:
I may not in this case be reckeless;
I must do with thy daughter for the best,
Not as I would, but as my gentles lest.* *please
“And yet, God wot, this is full loth* to me: *odious
But natheless withoute your weeting* *knowing
I will nought do; but this will I,” quoth he,
“That ye to me assenten in this thing.
Shew now your patience in your working,
That ye me hight* and swore in your village *promised
The day that maked was our marriage.”
When she had heard all this, she not amev’d* *changed
Neither in word, in cheer, nor countenance
(For, as it seemed, she was not aggriev’d);
She saide; “Lord, all lies in your pleasance,
My child and I, with hearty obeisance
Be youres all, and ye may save or spill* *destroy
Your owen thing: work then after your will.
“There may no thing, so God my soule save,
*Like to* you, that may displease me: *be pleasing*
Nor I desire nothing for to have,
Nor dreade for to lose, save only ye:
This will is in mine heart, and aye shall be,
No length of time, nor death, may this deface,
Nor change my corage* to another place.” *spirit, heart
Glad was the marquis for her answering,
But yet he feigned as he were not so;
All dreary was his cheer and his looking
When that he should out of the chamber go.
Soon after this, a furlong way or two,<8>
He privily hath told all his intent
Unto a man, and to his wife him sent.
A *manner sergeant* was this private* man, *kind of squire*
The which he faithful often founden had *discreet
In thinges great, and eke such folk well can
Do execution in thinges bad:
The lord knew well, that he him loved and drad.* *dreaded
And when this sergeant knew his lorde’s will,
Into the chamber stalked he full still.
“Madam,” he said, “ye must forgive it me,
Though I do thing to which I am constrain’d;
Ye be so wise, that right well knowe ye
*That lordes’ hestes may not be y-feign’d;* *see note <9>*
They may well be bewailed and complain’d,
But men must needs unto their lust* obey; *pleasure
And so will I, there is no more to say.
“This child I am commanded for to take.”
And spake no more, but out the child he hent* *seized