and al, As to hire veray worldly suffisance. And secretly he to Boloigne it sente, To the erl of Pavie, which that hadde tho Wedded his suster, prayed he specially To bringen home agein his children two In honourable estat al openly: Shulde not tell whos children that they were, But say, be Unto the markis of Saluces anon. And as this erl was prayed, so did he, For at day sette he on his way is gon Toward Saluces, and lordes many on In rich arraie, this maiden for to gide, Her yonge brother riding hire beside. the maiden shuld ywedded Arraied was toward her mariage This fresshe maiden, ful of gemmes clere, Her brother, which that seven yere was of age, Arraied eke ful fresh in his manere: And thus in gret noblesse and with glade chere 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 That whilom weren all myn hertés rest, That I shal gon, I wot go whan you lest. "But ther as ye me profer 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 For out of doute this olde poure man Was ever in suspect of her 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 her as sone as ever he might. Agein his doughter hastily goth he, (For he by noise of folk knew her coming) And with her olde cote, as it might be, He covereth her ful sorwefully weping: But on her body might he it not bring, For rude was the cloth, and more of age By daies fele than at her mariage. Thus with her fader for a certain space Dwelleth this flour of wifly patience, That nother by her wordes ne her face, Beform the folk, ne eke in her absence, Ne shewed she that her was don offence, Ne of her high estat no remembrance Ne hadde she, as by hire contenance. No wonder is, for in her gret estat Her 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 her 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 sothfast nesse, Though clerkes preisen women but a lite, Ther can no man in humblesse him acquite 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: Plesance ynough unto your lives end.' |