Chapter 24

Their meeke prayer and their piteous cheer Made the marquis for to have pity. “Ye will,” quoth he, “mine owen people dear, To that I ne’er ere* thought constraine me. *before I me rejoiced of my liberty, That seldom time is found in rnarriage; Where I was free, I must be in servage!* *servitude

“But natheless I see your true intent, And trust upon your wit, and have done aye: Wherefore of my free will I will assent To wedde me, as soon as e’er I may. But whereas ye have proffer’d me to-day To choose me a wife, I you release That choice, and pray you of that proffer cease.

“For God it wot, that children often been Unlike their worthy elders them before, Bounte* comes all of God, not of the strene** *goodness Of which they be engender’d and y-bore: **stock, race I trust in Godde’s bounte, and therefore My marriage, and mine estate and rest, I *him betake;* he may do as him lest. *commend to him

“Let me alone in choosing of my wife; That charge upon my back I will endure: But I you pray, and charge upon your life, That what wife that I take, ye me assure To worship* her, while that her life may dure, *honour In word and work both here and elleswhere, As she an emperore’s daughter were.

“And farthermore this shall ye swear, that ye Against my choice shall never grudge* nor strive. *murmur For since I shall forego my liberty At your request, as ever may I thrive, Where as mine heart is set, there will I live And but* ye will assent in such mannere, *unless I pray you speak no more of this mattere.”

With heartly will they sworen and assent To all this thing, there said not one wight nay: Beseeching him of grace, ere that they went, That he would grante them a certain day Of his espousal, soon as e’er he rnay, For yet always the people somewhat dread* *were in fear or doubt Lest that the marquis woulde no wife wed.

He granted them a day, such as him lest, On which he would be wedded sickerly,* *certainly And said he did all this at their request; And they with humble heart full buxomly,* *obediently <3> Kneeling upon their knees full reverently, Him thanked all; and thus they have an end Of their intent, and home again they wend.

And hereupon he to his officers Commanded for the feaste to purvey.* *provide And to his privy knightes and squiers Such charge he gave, as him list on them lay: And they to his commandement obey, And each of them doth all his diligence To do unto the feast all reverence.

*Pars Secunda* *Second Part*

Not far from thilke* palace honourable, *that Where as this marquis shope* his marriage, *prepared; resolved on There stood a thorp,* of sighte delectable, *hamlet In which the poore folk of that village Hadde their beastes and their harbourage,* *dwelling And of their labour took their sustenance, After the earthe gave them abundance.

Among this poore folk there dwelt a man Which that was holden poorest of them all; But highe God sometimes sende can His grace unto a little ox’s stall; Janicola men of that thorp him call. A daughter had he, fair enough to sight, And Griseldis this younge maiden hight.

But for to speak of virtuous beauty, Then was she one the fairest under sun: Full poorely y-foster’d up was she; No *likerous lust* was in her heart y-run; *luxurious pleasure* Well ofter of the well than of the tun She drank, <4> and, for* she woulde virtue please *because She knew well labour, but no idle ease.

But though this maiden tender were of age; Yet in the breast of her virginity There was inclos’d a *sad and ripe corage;* *steadfast and mature And in great reverence and charity spirit* Her olde poore father foster’d she. A few sheep, spinning, on the field she kept, She woulde not be idle till she slept.

And when she homeward came, she would bring Wortes,* and other herbes, times oft, *plants, cabbages The which she shred and seeth’d for her living, And made her bed full hard, and nothing soft: And aye she kept her father’s life on loft* *up, aloft With ev’ry obeisance and diligence, That child may do to father’s reverence.

Upon Griselda, this poor creature, Full often sithes* this marquis set his eye, *times As he on hunting rode, paraventure:* *by chance And when it fell that he might her espy, He not with wanton looking of folly His eyen cast on her, but in sad* wise *serious Upon her cheer* he would him oft advise;** *countenance **consider

Commending in his heart her womanhead, And eke her virtue, passing any wight Of so young age, as well in cheer as deed. For though the people have no great insight In virtue, he considered full right Her bounte,* and disposed that he would *goodness Wed only her, if ever wed he should.

The day of wedding came, but no wight can Telle what woman that it shoulde be; For which marvail wonder’d many a man, And saide, when they were in privity, “Will not our lord yet leave his vanity? Will he not wed? Alas, alas the while! Why will he thus himself and us beguile?”

But natheless this marquis had *done make* *caused to be made* Of gemmes, set in gold and in azure, Brooches and ringes, for Griselda’s sake, And of her clothing took he the measure Of a maiden like unto her stature, And eke of other ornamentes all That unto such a wedding shoulde fall.* *befit

The time of undern* of the same day *evening <5> Approached, that this wedding shoulde be, And all the palace put was in array, Both hall and chamber, each in its degree, Houses of office stuffed with plenty There may’st thou see of dainteous vitaille,* *victuals, provisions That may be found, as far as lasts Itale.

This royal marquis, richely array’d, Lordes and ladies in his company, The which unto the feaste were pray’d, And of his retinue the bach’lery, With many a sound of sundry melody, Unto the village, of the which I told, In this array the right way did they hold.

Griseld’ of this (God wot) full innocent, That for her shapen* was all this array, *prepared To fetche water at a well is went, And home she came as soon as e’er she may. For well she had heard say, that on that day The marquis shoulde wed, and, if she might, She fain would have seen somewhat of that sight.

She thought, “I will with other maidens stand, That be my fellows, in our door, and see The marchioness; and therefore will I fand* *strive To do at home, as soon as it may be, The labour which belongeth unto me, And then I may at leisure her behold, If she this way unto the castle hold.”

And as she would over the threshold gon, The marquis came and gan for her to call, And she set down her water-pot anon Beside the threshold, in an ox’s stall, And down upon her knees she gan to fall, And with sad* countenance kneeled still, *steady Till she had heard what was the lorde’s will.

The thoughtful marquis spake unto the maid Full soberly, and said in this mannere: “Where is your father, Griseldis?” he said. And she with reverence, *in humble cheer,* *with humble air* Answered, “Lord, he is all ready here.” 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 Dispiteously,* and gan a cheer** to make *unpityingly **show, aspect As though he would have slain it ere he went. Griseldis must all suffer and consent: And as a lamb she sat there meek and still, And let this cruel sergeant do his will

Suspicious* was the diffame** of this man, *ominous **evil reputation Suspect his face, suspect his word also, Suspect the time in which he this began: Alas! her daughter, that she loved so, She weened* he would have it slain right tho,** *thought **then But natheless she neither wept nor siked,* *sighed Conforming her to what the marquis liked.

But at the last to speake she began, And meekly she unto the sergeant pray’d, So as he was a worthy gentle man, That she might kiss her child, ere that it died: And in her barme* this little child she laid, *lap, bosom With full sad face, and gan the child to bless,* *cross And lulled it, and after gan it kiss.

And thus she said in her benigne voice: Farewell, my child, I shall thee never see; But since I have thee marked with the cross, Of that father y-blessed may’st thou be That for us died upon a cross of tree: Thy soul, my little child, I *him betake,* *commit unto him* For this night shalt thou dien for my sake.

I trow* that to a norice** in this case *believe **nurse It had been hard this ruthe* for to see: *pitiful sight Well might a mother then have cried, “Alas!” But natheless so sad steadfast was she, That she endured all adversity, And to the sergeant meekely she said, “Have here again your little younge maid.

“Go now,” quoth she, “and do my lord’s behest. And one thing would I pray you of your grace, *But if* my lord forbade you at the least, *unless* Bury this little body in some place, That neither beasts nor birdes it arace.”* *tear <10> But he no word would to that purpose say, But took the child and went upon his way.

The sergeant came unto his lord again, And of Griselda’s words and of her cheer* *demeanour He told him point for point, in short and plain, And him presented with his daughter dear. Somewhat this lord had ruth in his mannere, But natheless his purpose held he still, As lordes do, when they will have their will;

And bade this sergeant that he privily Shoulde the child full softly wind and wrap, With alle circumstances tenderly, And carry it in a coffer, or in lap; But, upon pain his head off for to swap,* *strike That no man shoulde know of his intent, Nor whence he came, nor whither that he went;

But at Bologna, to his sister dear, That at that time of Panic’* was Countess, *Panico He should it take, and shew her this mattere, Beseeching her to do her business This child to foster in all gentleness, And whose child it was he bade her hide From every wight, for aught that might betide.

The sergeant went, and hath fulfill’d this thing. But to the marquis now returne we; For now went he full fast imagining If by his wife’s cheer he mighte see, Or by her wordes apperceive, that she Were changed; but he never could her find, But ever-in-one* alike sad** and kind. *constantly **steadfast

As glad, as humble, as busy in service, And eke in love, as she was wont to be, Was she to him, in every *manner wise;* *sort of way* And of her daughter not a word spake she; *No accident for no adversity* *no change of humour resulting Was seen in her, nor e’er her daughter’s name from her affliction* She named, or in earnest or in game.

*Pars Quarta* *Fourth Part*

In this estate there passed be four year Ere she with childe was; but, as God wo’ld, A knave* child she bare by this Waltere, *boy Full gracious and fair for to behold; And when that folk it to his father told, Not only he, but all his country, merry Were for this child, and God they thank and hery.* *praise

When it was two year old, and from the breast Departed* of the norice, on a day *taken, weaned This marquis *caughte yet another lest* *was seized by yet To tempt his wife yet farther, if he may. another desire* Oh! needless was she tempted in as say;* *trial But wedded men *not connen no measure,* *know no moderation* When that they find a patient creature.