The Clerk's Tale, Third Part, ll. 449-609 (The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer)

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Clerk's Tale

Incipit tercia pars.
Here begins the third part

	Ther fil, as it bifalleth tymes mo,
450	Whan that this child had souked but a throwe,
	This markys in his herte longeth so
	To tempte his wyf, hir sadnesse for to knowe,
	That he ne myghte out of his herte throwe
	This merveillous desir his wyf t'assaye.
455	Nedelees, God woot, he thoghte hir for t'affraye.

He hadde assayed hir ynogh bifore,

And foond hir evere good; what neded it

Hir for to tempte and alwey moore and moore?

Though som men preise it for a subtil wit,

460 But as for me, I seye that yvele it sit

To assaye a wyf, whan that it is no nede,

And putten hir in angwyssh and in drede.

For which this markys wroghte in this manere;

He cam allone a-nyght, ther as she lay,

465 With stierne face and with ful trouble cheere,

And seyde thus, "Grisilde," quod he, "that day

That I yow took out of your povere array,

And putte yow in estaat of heigh noblesse, -

Ye have nat that forgeten, as I gesse.

470 I seye, Grisilde, this present dignitee

In which that I have put yow, as I trowe

Maketh yow nat foryetful for to be

That I yow took in povre estaat ful lowe

For any wele ye moot youreselven knowe.

475 Taak heede of every word that y yow seye,

Ther is no wight that hereth it but we tweye.

Ye woot yourself wel how that ye cam heere

Into this hous, it is nat longe ago.

And though to me that ye be lief and deere,

480 Unto my gentils ye be no thyng so.

They seyn, to hem it is greet shame and wo

For to be subgetz, and to been in servage,

To thee, that born art of a smal village.

And namely, sith thy doghter was ybore,

485 Thise wordes han they spoken, doutelees;

But I desire, as I have doon bifore,

To lyve my lyf with hem in reste and pees.

I may nat in this caas be recchelees;

I moot doon with thy doghter for the beste,

490 Nat as I wolde, but as my peple leste.

And yet God woot, this is ful looth to me;

But nathelees, withoute youre wityng

I wol nat doon, but this wol I," quod he,

"That ye to me assente as in this thyng.

495 Shewe now youre pacience in youre werkyng,

That ye me highte and swore in youre village,

That day that maked was oure mariage."

Whan she had herd al this, she noght ameved

Neither in word, or chiere, or countenaunce;

500 For as it semed she was nat agreved.

She seyde, "Lord, al lyth in youre plesaunce,

My child, and I, with hertely obeisaunce

Been youres al, and ye mowe save and spille

Youre owene thyng, werketh after youre wille.

505 Ther may no thyng, God so my soule save,

Liken to yow, that may displese me,

Ne I ne desire no thyng for to have,

Ne drede for to leese, save oonly yee;

This wyl is in myn herte, and ay shal be;

510 No lengthe of tyme or deeth may this deface,

Ne chaunge my corage to another place."

Glad was this markys of hir answeryng,

But yet he feyned as he were nat so.

Al drery was his cheere and his lookyng,

515 Whan that he sholde out of the chambre go.

Soone after this, a furlong wey or two,

He prively hath toold al his entente

Unto a man, and to his wyf hym sente.

A maner sergeant was this privee man,

520 The which that feithful ofte he founden hadde

In thynges grete, and eek swich folk wel kan

Doon execucioun on thynges badde.

The lord knew wel that he hym loved and dradde;-

And whan this sergeant wiste the lordes wille,

525 Into the chambre he stalked hym ful stille.

"Madame," he seyde, "ye moote foryeve it me,

Though I do thyng to which I am constreyned,

Ye been so wys, that ful wel knowe ye

That lordes heestes mowe nat been yfeyned,

530 They mowe wel been biwailled and compleyned,

But men moote nede unto hir lust obeye;

And so wol I, ther is namoore to seye.

This child I am comanded for to take."

And spak namoore, but out the child he hente

535 Despitously, and gan a cheere make

As though he wolde han slayn it er he wente.

Grisildis moot al suffren and consente;

And as a lamb she sitteth meke and stille,

And leet this crueel sergeant doon his wille.

540 Suspecious was the diffame of this man,

Suspect his face, suspect his word also,

Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan.

Allas, hir doghter that she loved so!

She wende he wolde han slawen it right tho;

545 But nathelees she neither weep ne syked,

Conformynge hir to that the markys lyked.

But atte laste speken she bigan,

And mekely she to the sergeant preyde,

So as he was a worthy gentil man,

550 That she moste kisse hire child, er that it deyde,

And in hir barm this litel child she leyde,

With ful sad face, and gan the child to kisse,

And lulled it, and after gan it blisse.

And thus she seyde in hir benigne voys,

555 "Fareweel, my child, I shal thee nevere see,

But sith I thee have marked with the croys

Of thilke Fader blessed moote thou be,

That for us deyde upon a croys of tree.

Thy soule, litel child, I hym bitake,

560 For this nyght shaltow dyen for my sake."

I trowe, that to a norice in this cas

It had been hard this reuthe for to se;

Wel myghte a mooder thanne han cryd `allas!'

But nathelees so sad and stidefast was she,

565 That she endured al adversitee,

And to the sergeant mekely she sayde,

"Have heer agayn your litel yonge mayde."

"Gooth now," quod she, "and dooth my lordes heeste;

But o thyng wol I prey yow of youre grace,

570 That, but my lord forbad yow atte leeste,

Burieth this litel body in son place

That beestes ne no briddes it torace."

But he no word wol to that purpos seye,

But took the child, and wente upon his weye.

575 This sergeant cam unto his lord ageyn,

And of Grisildis wordes and hire cheere

He tolde hym point for point, in short and pleyn,

And hym presenteth with his doghter deere.

Somwhat this lord hath routhe in his manere,

580 But nathelees his purpos heeld he stille,

As lordes doon whan they wol han hir wille;

And bad his sergeant, that he pryvely

Sholde this child ful softe wynde and wrappe,

With alle circumstances tendrely,

585 And carie it in a cofre or in a lappe,

But, upon peyne his heed of for to swappe

That no man sholde knowe of his entente,

Ne whenne he cam, ne whider that he wente.

But at Boloigne to his suster deere,

590 That thilke tyme of Panik was countesse,

He sholde it take, and shewe hir this mateere,

Bisekynge hir to doon hir bisynesse

This child to fostre in alle gentillesse,

And whos child that it was, he bad hire hyde

595 From every wight, for oght that may bityde.

The sergeant gooth, and hath fulfild this thyng,

But to this markys now retourne we,

For now gooth he ful faste ymaginyng,

If by his wyves cheere he myghte se

600 Or by hir word aperceyve that she

Were chaunged, but he nevere hir koude fynde,

But evere in oon ylike sad and kynde.

As glad, as humble, as bisy in servyse,

And eek in love, as she was wont to be,

605 Was she to hym in every maner wyse,

Ne of hir doghter noght a word spak she.

Noon accident for noon adversitee

Was seyn in hire, ne nevere hir doghter name

Ne nempned she, in ernest nor in game.

	He hadde assayed hir ynogh bifore,
	And foond hir evere good; what neded it
	Hir for to tempte and alwey moore and moore?
	Though som men preise it for a subtil wit,
460	But as for me, I seye that yvele it sit
	To assaye a wyf, whan that it is no nede,
	And putten hir in angwyssh and in drede.

	For which this markys wroghte in this manere;
	He cam allone a-nyght, ther as she lay,
465	With stierne face and with ful trouble cheere,
	And seyde thus, "Grisilde," quod he, "that day
	That I yow took out of your povere array,
	And putte yow in estaat of heigh noblesse, -
	Ye have nat that forgeten, as I gesse.

470	I seye, Grisilde, this present dignitee
	In which that I have put yow, as I trowe
	Maketh yow nat foryetful for to be
	That I yow took in povre estaat ful lowe
	For any wele ye moot youreselven knowe.
475	Taak heede of every word that y yow seye,
	Ther is no wight that hereth it but we tweye.

	Ye woot yourself wel how that ye cam heere
	Into this hous, it is nat longe ago.
	And though to me that ye be lief and deere,
480	Unto my gentils ye be no thyng so.
	They seyn, to hem it is greet shame and wo
	For to be subgetz, and to been in servage,
	To thee, that born art of a smal village.

	And namely, sith thy doghter was ybore,
485	Thise wordes han they spoken, doutelees;
	But I desire, as I have doon bifore,
	To lyve my lyf with hem in reste and pees.
	I may nat in this caas be recchelees;
	I moot doon with thy doghter for the beste,
490	Nat as I wolde, but as my peple leste.

	And yet God woot, this is ful looth to me;
	But nathelees, withoute youre wityng
	I wol nat doon, but this wol I," quod he,
	"That ye to me assente as in this thyng.
495	Shewe now youre pacience in youre werkyng,
	That ye me highte and swore in youre village,
	That day that maked was oure mariage."

	Whan she had herd al this, she noght ameved
	Neither in word, or chiere, or countenaunce;
500	For as it semed she was nat agreved.
	She seyde, "Lord, al lyth in youre plesaunce,
	My child, and I, with hertely obeisaunce
	Been youres al, and ye mowe save and spille
	Youre owene thyng, werketh after youre wille.

505	Ther may no thyng, God so my soule save,
	Liken to yow, that may displese me,
	Ne I ne desire no thyng for to have,
	Ne drede for to leese, save oonly yee;
	This wyl is in myn herte, and ay shal be;
510	No lengthe of tyme or deeth may this deface,
	Ne chaunge my corage to another place."

	Glad was this markys of hir answeryng,
	But yet he feyned as he were nat so.
	Al drery was his cheere and his lookyng,
515	Whan that he sholde out of the chambre go.
	Soone after this, a furlong wey or two,
	He prively hath toold al his entente
	Unto a man, and to his wyf hym sente.

	A maner sergeant was this privee man,
520	The which that feithful ofte he founden hadde
	In thynges grete, and eek swich folk wel kan
	Doon execucioun on thynges badde.
	The lord knew wel that he hym loved and dradde;-
	And whan this sergeant wiste the lordes wille,
525	Into the chambre he stalked hym ful stille.

	"Madame," he seyde, "ye moote foryeve it me,
	Though I do thyng to which I am constreyned,
	Ye been so wys, that ful wel knowe ye
	That lordes heestes mowe nat been yfeyned,
530	They mowe wel been biwailled and compleyned,
	But men moote nede unto hir lust obeye;
	And so wol I, ther is namoore to seye.

	This child I am comanded for to take."
	And spak namoore, but out the child he hente
535	Despitously, and gan a cheere make
	As though he wolde han slayn it er he wente.
	Grisildis moot al suffren and consente;
	And as a lamb she sitteth meke and stille,
	And leet this crueel sergeant doon his wille.

540	Suspecious was the diffame of this man,
	Suspect his face, suspect his word also,
	Suspect the tyme in which he this bigan.
	Allas, hir doghter that she loved so!
	She wende he wolde han slawen it right tho;
545	But nathelees she neither weep ne syked,
	Conformynge hir to that the markys lyked.

	But atte laste speken she bigan,
	And mekely she to the sergeant preyde,
	So as he was a worthy gentil man,
550	That she moste kisse hire child, er that it deyde,
	And in hir barm this litel child she leyde,
	With ful sad face, and gan the child to kisse,
	And lulled it, and after gan it blisse.

	And thus she seyde in hir benigne voys,
555	"Fareweel, my child, I shal thee nevere see,
	But sith I thee have marked with the croys
	Of thilke Fader blessed moote thou be,
	That for us deyde upon a croys of tree.
	Thy soule, litel child, I hym bitake,
560	For this nyght shaltow dyen for my sake."

	I trowe, that to a norice in this cas
	It had been hard this reuthe for to se;
	Wel myghte a mooder thanne han cryd `allas!'
	But nathelees so sad and stidefast was she,
565	That she endured al adversitee,
	And to the sergeant mekely she sayde,
	"Have heer agayn your litel yonge mayde."

	"Gooth now," quod she, "and dooth my lordes heeste;
	But o thyng wol I prey yow of youre grace,
570	That, but my lord forbad yow atte leeste,
	Burieth this litel body in son place
	That beestes ne no briddes it torace."
	But he no word wol to that purpos seye,
	But took the child, and wente upon his weye.

575	This sergeant cam unto his lord ageyn,
	And of Grisildis wordes and hire cheere
	He tolde hym point for point, in short and pleyn,
	And hym presenteth with his doghter deere.
	Somwhat this lord hath routhe in his manere,
580	But nathelees his purpos heeld he stille,
	As lordes doon whan they wol han hir wille;

	And bad his sergeant, that he pryvely
	Sholde this child ful softe wynde and wrappe,
	With alle circumstances tendrely,
585	And carie it in a cofre or in a lappe,
	But, upon peyne his heed of for to swappe
	That no man sholde knowe of his entente,
	Ne whenne he cam, ne whider that he wente.

	But at Boloigne to his suster deere,
590	That thilke tyme of Panik was countesse,
	He sholde it take, and shewe hir this mateere,
	Bisekynge hir to doon hir bisynesse
	This child to fostre in alle gentillesse,
	And whos child that it was, he bad hire hyde
595	From every wight, for oght that may bityde.

	The sergeant gooth, and hath fulfild this thyng,
	But to this markys now retourne we,
	For now gooth he ful faste ymaginyng,
	If by his wyves cheere he myghte se
600	Or by hir word aperceyve that she
	Were chaunged, but he nevere hir koude fynde,
	But evere in oon ylike sad and kynde.

	As glad, as humble, as bisy in servyse,
	And eek in love, as she was wont to be,
605	Was she to hym in every maner wyse,
	Ne of hir doghter noght a word spak she.
	Noon accident for noon adversitee
	Was seyn in hire, ne nevere hir doghter name
	Ne nempned she, in ernest nor in game.