The Clerk's Tale, Fifth Part, ll. 785-938 (The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer)

From The Canterbury Tales:
The Clerk's Tale

Sequitur pars quinta.
Here follows the fifth part

785	Among al this, after his wikke usage,
	This markys yet his wyf to tempte moore
	To the outtreste preeve of hir corage,
	Fully to han experience and loore,
	If that she were as stidefast as bifoore,
790	He on a day in open audience
	Ful boistously hath seyd hir this sentence.

"Certes, Grisilde, I hadde ynogh plesance,

To han yow to my wyf for your goodnesse,

As for youre trouthe, and for your obeisance -

795 Noght for youre lynage, ne for youre richesse;

But now knowe I, in verray soothfastnesse,

That in greet lordshipe, if I wel avyse,

Ther is greet servitute in sondry wyse.

I may nat doon as every plowman may;

800 My peple me constreyneth for to take

Another wyf, and crien day by day,

And eek the pope, rancour for to slake,

Consenteth it, that dar I undertake -

And trewely thus muche I wol yow seye,

805 My newe wyf is comynge by the weye.

Be strong of herte, and voyde anon hir place,

And thilke dower that ye broghten me

Taak it agayn, I graunte it of my grace.

Retourneth to youre fadres hous," quod he;

810 "No man may alwey han prosperitee.

With evene herte I rede yow t'endure

This strook of Fortune or of aventure."

And she answerde agayn in pacience,

"My lord," quod she, "I woot and wiste alway

815 How that bitwixen youre magnificence

And my poverte, no wight kan ne may

Maken comparisoun; it is no nay.

I ne heeld me nevere digne in no manere

To be your wyf, no, ne youre chamberere.

820 And in this hous ther ye me lady maade -

The heighe God take I for my witnesse,

And also wysly he my soule glaade -

I nevere heeld me lady ne maistresse,

But humble servant to youre worthynesse,

825 And evere shal whil that my lyf may dure

Aboven every worldly creature.

That ye so longe of youre benignitee

Han holden me in honour and nobleye,

Wher as I was noght worthy for to bee,

830 That thonke I God and yow, to whom I preye

Foryelde it yow; ther is namoore to seye.

Unto my fader gladly wol I wende,

And with hym dwelle unto my lyves ende.

Ther I was fostred of a child ful smal,

835 Til I be deed, my lyf ther wol I lede,

A wydwe clene in body, herte, and al,

For sith I yaf to yow my maydenhede

And am youre trewe wyf, it is no drede,

God shilde swich a lordes wyf to take

840 Another man, to housbonde or to make.

And of youre newe wyf, God of his grace

So graunte yow wele and prosperitee,

For I wol gladly yelden hir my place

In which that I was blisful wont to bee.

845 For sith it liketh yow my lord," quod shee,

"That whilom weren al myn hertes reste,

That I shal goon, I wol goon whan yow leste.

But ther as ye me profre swich dowaire

As I first broghte, it is wel in my mynde

850 It were my wrecched clothes, no thyng faire,

The whiche to me were hard now for to fynde.

O goode God! how gentil and how kynde

Ye semed by youre speche and youre visage

The day that maked was oure mariage!

855 But sooth is seyd - algate I fynde it trewe,

For in effect it preeved is on me -

Love is noght oold, as whan that it is newe,

But certes, lord, for noon adversitee,

To dyen in the cas it shal nat bee

860 That evere in word or werk I shal repente

That I yow yaf myn herte in hool entente.

My lord, ye woot that in my fadres place

Ye dide me streepe out of my povre weede,

And richely me cladden of youre grace.

865 To yow broghte I noght elles, out of drede,

But feith, and nakednesse, and maydenhede.

And heere agayn my clothyng I restoore,

And eek my weddyng ryng for everemore.

The remenant of youre jueles redy be

870 In-with youre chambre, dar I saufly sayn.

Naked out of my fadres hous," quod she,

"I cam, and naked moot I turne agayn.

Al your plesance wol I folwen fayn,

But yet I hope it be nat your entente

875 That I smoklees out of your paleys wente.

Ye koude nat doon so dishonest a thyng,

That thilke wombe in which your children leye,

Sholde biforn the peple in my walkyng

Be seyn al bare; wherfore I yow preye,

880 Lat me nat lyk a worm go by the weye!

Remembre yow, myn owene lord so deere,

I was your wyf, though I unworthy weere.

Wherfore, in gerdoun of my maydenhede

Which that I broghte, and noght agayn I bere,

885 As voucheth sauf to yeve me to my meede

But swich a smok as I was wont to were,

That I therwith may wrye the wombe of here

That was your wyf. And heer take I my leeve

Of yow, myn owene lord, lest I yow greve."

890 "The smok," quod he, "that thou hast on thy bak,

Lat it be stille, and bere it forth with thee."

But wel unnethes thilke word he spak,

But wente his wey for routhe and for pitee.

Biforn the folk hirselven strepeth she,

895 And in hir smok, with heed and foot al bare,

Toward hir fader hous forth is she fare.

The folk hir folwe, wepynge in hir weye,

And Fortune ay they cursen, as they goon;

But she fro wepyng kepte hir eyen dreye,

900 Ne in this tyme word ne spak she noon.

Hir fader, that this tidynge herde anoon,

Curseth the day and tyme that nature

Shoop hym to been a lyves creature.

For out of doute this olde povre man

905 Was evere in suspect of hir mariage,

For evere he demed, sith that it bigan,

That whan the lord fulfild hadde his corage,

Hym wolde thynke it were a disparage

To his estaat, so lowe for talighte,

910 And voyden hir as soone as ever he myghte.

Agayns his doghter hastily goth he,

For he by noyse of folk knew hir comynge,

And with hir olde coote, as it myghte be,

He covered hir, ful sorwefully wepynge,

915 But on hir body myghte he it nat brynge.

For rude was the clooth, and moore of age

By dayes fele than at hir mariage.

Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space

Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience,

920 That neither by hir wordes ne hir face,

Biforn the folk, ne eek in hir absence,

Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence,

Ne of hir heighe estaat no remembraunce

Ne hadde she, as by hir contenaunce.

925 No wonder is, for in hir grete estaat

Hire goost was evere in pleyn humylitee.

No tendre mouth, noon herte delicaat,

No pompe, no semblant of roialtee,

But ful of pacient benyngnytee,

930 Discreet and pridelees, ay honurable,

And to hire housbonde evere meke and stable.

Men speke of Job, and moost for his humblesse,

As clerkes whan hem list konne wel endite,

Namely of men; but as in soothfastnesse,

935 Though clerkes preise wommen but a lite,

Ther kan no man in humblesse hym acquite,

As womman kan, ne kan been half so trewe

As wommen been, but it be falle of newe.

	"Certes, Grisilde, I hadde ynogh plesance,
	To han yow to my wyf for your goodnesse,
	As for youre trouthe, and for your obeisance -
795	Noght for youre lynage, ne for youre richesse;
	But now knowe I, in verray soothfastnesse,
	That in greet lordshipe, if I wel avyse,
	Ther is greet servitute in sondry wyse.

	I may nat doon as every plowman may;
800	My peple me constreyneth for to take
	Another wyf, and crien day by day,
	And eek the pope, rancour for to slake,
	Consenteth it, that dar I undertake -
	And trewely thus muche I wol yow seye,
805	My newe wyf is comynge by the weye.

	Be strong of herte, and voyde anon hir place,
	And thilke dower that ye broghten me
	Taak it agayn, I graunte it of my grace.
	Retourneth to youre fadres hous," quod he;
810	"No man may alwey han prosperitee.
	With evene herte I rede yow t'endure
	This strook of Fortune or of aventure."

	And she answerde agayn in pacience,
	"My lord," quod she, "I woot and wiste alway
815	How that bitwixen youre magnificence
	And my poverte, no wight kan ne may
	Maken comparisoun; it is no nay.
	I ne heeld me nevere digne in no manere
	To be your wyf, no, ne youre chamberere.

820	And in this hous ther ye me lady maade -
	The heighe God take I for my witnesse,
	And also wysly he my soule glaade -
	I nevere heeld me lady ne maistresse,
	But humble servant to youre worthynesse,
825	And evere shal whil that my lyf may dure
	Aboven every worldly creature.

	That ye so longe of youre benignitee
	Han holden me in honour and nobleye,
	Wher as I was noght worthy for to bee,
830	That thonke I God and yow, to whom I preye
	Foryelde it yow; ther is namoore to seye.
	Unto my fader gladly wol I wende,
	And with hym dwelle unto my lyves ende.

	Ther I was fostred of a child ful smal,
835	Til I be deed, my lyf ther wol I lede,
	A wydwe clene in body, herte, and al,
	For sith I yaf to yow my maydenhede
	And am youre trewe wyf, it is no drede,
	God shilde swich a lordes wyf to take
840	Another man, to housbonde or to make.

	And of youre newe wyf, God of his grace
	So graunte yow wele and prosperitee,
	For I wol gladly yelden hir my place
	In which that I was blisful wont to bee.
845	For sith it liketh yow my lord," quod shee,
	"That whilom weren al myn hertes reste,
	That I shal goon, I wol goon whan yow leste.

	But ther as ye me profre swich dowaire
	As I first broghte, it is wel in my mynde
850	It were my wrecched clothes, no thyng faire,
	The whiche to me were hard now for to fynde.
	O goode God! how gentil and how kynde
	Ye semed by youre speche and youre visage
	The day that maked was oure mariage!

855	But sooth is seyd - algate I fynde it trewe,
	For in effect it preeved is on me -
	Love is noght oold, as whan that it is newe,
	But certes, lord, for noon adversitee,
	To dyen in the cas it shal nat bee
860	That evere in word or werk I shal repente
	That I yow yaf myn herte in hool entente.

	My lord, ye woot that in my fadres place
	Ye dide me streepe out of my povre weede,
	And richely me cladden of youre grace.
865	To yow broghte I noght elles, out of drede,
	But feith, and nakednesse, and maydenhede.
	And heere agayn my clothyng I restoore,
	And eek my weddyng ryng for everemore.

	The remenant of youre jueles redy be
870	In-with youre chambre, dar I saufly sayn.
	Naked out of my fadres hous," quod she,
	"I cam, and naked moot I turne agayn.
	Al your plesance wol I folwen fayn,
	But yet I hope it be nat your entente
875	That I smoklees out of your paleys wente.

	Ye koude nat doon so dishonest a thyng,
	That thilke wombe in which your children leye,
	Sholde biforn the peple in my walkyng
	Be seyn al bare; wherfore I yow preye,
880	Lat me nat lyk a worm go by the weye!
	Remembre yow, myn owene lord so deere,
	I was your wyf, though I unworthy weere.

	Wherfore, in gerdoun of my maydenhede
	Which that I broghte, and noght agayn I bere,
885	As voucheth sauf to yeve me to my meede
	But swich a smok as I was wont to were,
	That I therwith may wrye the wombe of here
	That was your wyf. And heer take I my leeve
	Of yow, myn owene lord, lest I yow greve."

890	"The smok," quod he, "that thou hast on thy bak,
	Lat it be stille, and bere it forth with thee."
	But wel unnethes thilke word he spak,
	But wente his wey for routhe and for pitee.
	Biforn the folk hirselven strepeth she,
895	And in hir smok, with heed and foot al bare,
	Toward hir fader hous forth is she fare.

	The folk hir folwe, wepynge in hir weye,
	And Fortune ay they cursen, as they goon;
	But she fro wepyng kepte hir eyen dreye,
900	Ne in this tyme word ne spak she noon.
	Hir fader, that this tidynge herde anoon,
	Curseth the day and tyme that nature
	Shoop hym to been a lyves creature.

	For out of doute this olde povre man
905	Was evere in suspect of hir mariage,
	For evere he demed, sith that it bigan,
	That whan the lord fulfild hadde his corage,
	Hym wolde thynke it were a disparage
	To his estaat, so lowe for talighte,
910	And voyden hir as soone as ever he myghte.

	Agayns his doghter hastily goth he,
	For he by noyse of folk knew hir comynge,
	And with hir olde coote, as it myghte be,
	He covered hir, ful sorwefully wepynge,
915	But on hir body myghte he it nat brynge.
	For rude was the clooth, and moore of age
	By dayes fele than at hir mariage.

	Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space
	Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience,
920	That neither by hir wordes ne hir face,
	Biforn the folk, ne eek in hir absence,
	Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence,
	Ne of hir heighe estaat no remembraunce
	Ne hadde she, as by hir contenaunce.

925	No wonder is, for in hir grete estaat
	Hire goost was evere in pleyn humylitee.
	No tendre mouth, noon herte delicaat,
	No pompe, no semblant of roialtee,
	But ful of pacient benyngnytee,
930	Discreet and pridelees, ay honurable,
	And to hire housbonde evere meke and stable.

	Men speke of Job, and moost for his humblesse,
	As clerkes whan hem list konne wel endite,
	Namely of men; but as in soothfastnesse,
935	Though clerkes preise wommen but a lite,
	Ther kan no man in humblesse hym acquite,
	As womman kan, ne kan been half so trewe
	As wommen been, but it be falle of newe.