Part 22
UP E.
HE
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UE Heere folweth the Prologe of the clerkes tale of Oxenford. "Sire clerk of Oxenford," oure Hooste sayde, "Ye ryde as coy and stille as dooth a mayde, Were newe spoused, sittynge at the bord. This day ne herde I of youre tonge a word. I trowe ye studie about som sophyme; But Salomon seith, `every thyng hath tyme.' For Goddes sake, as beth of bettre cheere; It is no tyme for to studien heere, Telle us som myrie tale, by youre fey. For what man that is entred in a pley, He nedes moot unto the pley assente; But precheth nat as freres doon in Lente, To make us for oure olde synnes wepe, Ne that thy tale make us nat to slepe. Telle us som murie thyng of aventures; Youre termes, youre colours, and youre figures, Keep hem in stoor, til so be that ye endite Heigh style, as whan that men to kynges write. Speketh so pleyn at this tyme, we yow preye, That we may understonde what ye seye." This worthy clerk benignely answerde, "Hooste," quod he, "I am under youre yerde. Ye han of us as now the governance; And therfore wol I do yow obeisance As fer as resoun axeth, hardily. I wol yow telle a tale, which that I Lerned at Padwe of a worthy clerk, As preved by his wordes and his werk. He is now deed, and nayled in his cheste; I prey to God so yeve his soule reste. Fraunceys Petrark, the lauriat poete, Highte this clerk, whos rethorike sweete Enlumyned al Ytaille of poetrie, As Lynyan dide of philosophie, Or lawe, or oother art particuler. But deeth, that wol nat suffre us dwellen heer But as it were a twynklyng of an eye, Hem bothe hath slayn, and alle shul we dye. But forth to tellen of this worthy man, That taughte me this tale as I bigan, I seye, that first with heigh stile he enditeth Er he the body of his tale writeth, A prohemye in the which discryveth he Pemond, and of Saluces the contree, And speketh of Apennyn, the hilles hye, That been the boundes of Westlumbardye; And of Mount Vesulus in special, Where as the Poo out of a welle smal Taketh his firste spryngyng and his sours, That estward ay encresseth in his cours To Emeleward, to Ferrare, and Venyse; The which a long thyng were to devyse. And trewely, as to my juggement, Me thynketh it a thyng impertinent, Save that he wole convoyen his mateere; But this his tale, which that ye may heere." Part 23
HE
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LE Heere bigynneth the tale of the Clerk of Oxenford. Ther is, at the west syde of Ytaille, Doun at the roote of Vesulus the colde, A lusty playne, habundant of vitaille, Where many a tour and toun thou mayst biholde That founded were in tyme of fadres olde, And many another delitable sighte, And Saluces this noble contree highte. A markys whilom lord was of that lond, As were hise worthy eldres hym bifore, And obeisant and redy to his hond Were alle hise liges, bothe lasse and moore. Thus in delit he lyveth, and hath doon yoore, Biloved and drad thurgh favour of Fortune, Bothe of hise lordes and of his commune. Therwith he was, to speke as of lynage, The gentilleste yborn of Lumbardye; A fair persone, and strong, and yong of age, And ful of honour and of curteisye, Discreet ynogh his contree for to gye, Save that in somme thynges that he was to blame, And Walter was this yonge lordes name. I blame hym thus, that he considereth noght In tyme comynge what hym myghte bityde, But in his lust present was al his thoght, As for to hauke and hunte on every syde. Wel ny alle othere cures leet he slyde; And eek he nolde,-and that was worst of alle- Wedde no wyf, for noght that may bifalle. Oonly that point his peple bar so soore, That flokmeele on a day they to hym wente, And oon of hem, that wisest was of loore, Or elles that the lord best wolde assente, That he sholde telle hym what his peple mente, Or elles koude he shewe wel swich mateere, He to the markys seyde as ye shul heere: "O noble Markys, youre humanitee Asseureth us, and yeveth us hardinesse, As ofte as tyme is of necessitee That we to yow mowe telle oure hevynesse. Accepteth, lord, now for youre gentillesse That we with pitous herte unto yow pleyne, And lat youre eres nat my voys desdeyne, Al have I noght to doone in this mateere Moore than another man hath in this place; Yet for as muche as ye, my lord so deere, Han alwey shewed me favour and grace, I dar the bettre aske of yow a space Of audience to shewen oure requeste, And ye, my lord, to doon right as yow leste. For certes, lord, so wel us liketh yow And al youre werk, and evere han doon that we Ne koude nat us-self devysen how We myghte lyven in moore felicitee, Save o thyng, lord, if it youre wille be, That for to been a wedded man yow leste, Thanne were youre peple in sovereyn hertes reste. Boweth youre nekke under that blisful yok Of soveraynetee, noght of servyse, Which that men clepeth spousaille or wedlock; And thenketh, lord, among youre thoghtes wyse How that oure dayes passe in sondry wyse, For thogh we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde, Ay fleeth the tyme, it nyl no man abyde. And thogh youre grene youthe floure as yit, In crepeth age alwey, as stille as stoon, And deeth manaceth every age, and smyt In ech estaat, for ther escapeth noon; And al so certein as we knowe echoon That we shul deye, as uncerteyn we alle Been of that day, whan deeth shal on us falle. Accepteth thanne of us the trewe entente That nevere yet refuseden thyn heeste; And we wol, lord, if that ye wole assente, Chese yow a wyf in short tyme atte leeste, Born of the gentilleste and of the meeste Of al this land, so that it oghte seme Honour to God, and yow, as we kan deeme. Delivere us out of al this bisy drede, And taak a wyf for hye Goddes sake, For if it so bifelle, as God forbede, That thurgh your deeth your lyne sholde slake, And that a straunge successour sholde take Youre heritage, o wo were us alyve! Wherfore we pray you hastily to wyve." Hir meeke preyere and hir pitous cheere Made the markys herte han pitee. "Ye wol," quod he, "myn owene peple deere, To that I nevere erst thoughte, streyne me. I me rejoysed of my liberte, That seelde tyme is founde in mariage. Ther I was free,
I moot been in servage. But nathelees I se youre trewe entente, And truste upon youre wit, and have doon at; Wherfore of my free wyl I wole assente To wedde me, as soone as evere I may. But ther as ye han profred me this day To chese me a wyf,
I yow relesse That choys, and prey yow of that profre cesse. For God it woot, that children ofte been Unlyk hir worthy eldres hem bifore. Bountee comth al of God, nat of the streen, Of which they been engendred and ybore. I truste in Goddes bontee; and therfore My mariage, and myn estaat and reste, I hym bitake, he may doon as hym leste. Lat me allone in chesynge of my wyf, That charge upon my bak I wole endure; But I yow preye, and charge upon youre lyf That what wyf that I take, ye me assure To worshipe hir, whil that hir lyf may dure, In word and werk, bothe heere and everywheere, As she an emperoures doghter weere. And forthermoore, this shal ye swere, that ye Agayn my choys shul neither grucche ne stryve, For sith I shal forgoon my libertee At youre requeste, as evere moot I thryve, Ther as myn herte is set, ther wol I wyve! And but ye wole assente in this manere, I prey yow, speketh namoore of this matere." With hertely wyl they sworen and assenten To al this thyng, ther seyde no wight nay, Bisekynge hym of grace er that they wenten, That he wolde graunten hem a certein day Of his spousaille, as soone as evere he may, For yet alwey the peple somwhat dredde Lest that this markys no wyf wolde wedde. He graunted hem a day, swich as hym leste, On which he wolde be wedded sikerly, And seyde he dide al this at hir requeste; And they with humble entente, buxomly, Knelynge upon hir knees ful reverently Hym thonken alle, and thus they han an ende Of hir entente, and hoom agayn they wende. And heerupon he to hise officeres Comaundeth for the feste to purveye, And to hise privee knyghtes and squieres Swich charge yaf, as hym liste on hem leye. And they to his comandement obeye, And ech of hem dooth al his diligence To doon unto the feeste reverence: Explicit prima pars. Incipit secunda pars. Noght fer fro thilke paleys honurable Ther as this markys shoop his mariage, Ther stood a throop, of site delitable, In which that povre folk of that village Hadden hir beestes and hir herbergage, And of hir lobour tooke hir sustenance, After that the erthe yaf hem habundance. Amonges thise povre folk ther dwelte a man Which that was holden povrest of hem alle; (But hye God somtyme senden kan His grace into a litel oxes stalle) Janicula men of that throop hym calle. A doghter hadde he, fair ynogh to sighte, And Grisildis this yonge mayden highte. But for to speke of vertuous beautee, Thanne was she oon the faireste under sonne, For povreliche yfostred up was she, No likerous lust was thurgh hir herte yronne. Wel ofter of the welle than of the tonne She drank, and for she wolde vertu plese She knew wel labour but noon ydel ese. But thogh this mayde tendre were of age, Yet in the brest of hire virginitee Ther was enclosed rype and sad corage; And in greet reverence and charitee Hir olde povre fader fostred shee. A fewe sheepe, spynnynge on feeld she kepte, -She wolde noght been ydel, til she slepte. And whan she homward cam, she wolde brynge Wortes, or othere herbes tymes ofte, The whiche she shredde and seeth for hir lyvynge, And made hir bed ful harde and no thyng softe; And ay she kepte hir fadres lyf on lofte With everich obeisaunce and diligence That child may doon to fadres reverence. Upon Grisilde, this povre creature, Ful ofte sithe this markys caste his eye, As he on huntyng rood paraventure. And whan it fil that he myghte hire espye, He noght with wantowne lookyng of folye Hise eyen caste on hir, but in sad wyse, Upon hir chiere he wolde hym ofte avyse, Commendynge in his herte hir wommanhede And eek hir vertu, passynge any wight Of so yong age, as wel in chiere as dede. For thogh the peple hadde no greet insight In vertu, he considered ful right Hir bountee, and disposed that he wolde Wedde hir oonly, if evere he wedde sholde. The day of weddyng cam, but no wight kan Telle what womman that it sholde be, For which merveille wondred many a man, And seyden, whan that they were in privetee, "Wol nat oure lord yet leve his vanytee? Wol he nat wedde? allas, allas, the while! Why wole he thus hymself and us bigile?" But nathelees this markys hath doon make Of gemmes set in gold and in asure Brooches and rynges, for Grisildis sake, And of hir clothyng took he the mesure, By a mayde lyk to hir stature, And eek of othere ornementes alle That unto swich a weddyng sholde falle. The time of undren of the same day Approcheth, that this weddyng sholde be; And al the paleys put was in array, Bothe halle and chambres, ech in his degree; Houses of office stuffed with plentee Ther maystow seen, of deyntevous vitaille, That may be founde as fer as last Ytaille. This roial markys, richely arrayed, Lordes and ladyes in his compaignye, The whiche that to the feeste weren yprayed, And of his retenue the bachelrye, With many a soun of sondry melodye Unto the village, of the which I tolde, In this array the righte wey han holde. Grisilde (of this,
God woot, ful innocent, That for hir shapen was al this array) To fecchen water at a welle is went, And cometh hoom as soone as ever she may; For wel she hadde herd seyd, that thilke day The markys sholde wedde, and if she myghte, She wolde fayn han seyn som of that sighte. She thoghte, "I wole with othere maydens stonde, That been my felawes, in oure dore, and se The markysesse, and therfore wol I fonde To doon at hoom as soone as it may be The labour, which that longeth unto me, And thanne I may at leyser hir biholde, If she this wey unto the castel holde." And as she wolde over hir thresshfold gon The markys cam and gan hire for to calle, And she set doun hir water pot anon Biside the thresshfold in an oxes stalle, And doun up-on hir knes she gan to falle, And with sad contenance kneleth stille, Til she had herd what was the lordes will. This thoghtful markys spak unto this mayde Ful sobrely, and seyde in this manere, "Where is youre fader,
O Grisildis?" he sayde, And she with reverence in humble cheere Answerde, "Lord, he is al redy heere." And in she gooth, withouten lenger lette, And to the markys she hir fader fette. He by the hand thanne took this olde man, And seyde thus, whan he hym hadde asyde, "Janicula,
I neither may ne kan Lenger the plesance of myn herte hyde; If that thou vouchsauf, what so bityde, Thy doghter wol I take, er that I wende, As for my wyf unto hir lyves ende. Thou lovest me,
I woot it wel certeyn, And art my feithful lige man ybore, And all that liketh me,
I dar wel seyn, It liketh thee; and specially therfore Tel me that poynt that I have seyd bifore, If that thou wolt unto that purpos drawe, To take me as for thy sone-in-lawe." This sodeyn cas this man astonyed so, That reed he wax abayst and al quakyng He stood, unnethes seyde he wordes mo, But oonly thus, "Lord," quod he, "my willynge Is as ye wole, ne ayeyns youre likynge I wol no thyng, ye be my lord so deere; Right as yow lust governeth this mateere." "Yet wol I," quod this markys softely, "That in thy chambre I and thou and she Have a collacioun, and wostow why? For I wol axe, if it hir wille be To be my wyf, and reule hir after me; And al this shal be doon in thy presence, I wol noght speke out of thyn audience." And in the chambre whil they were aboute Hir tretys which as ye shal after heere, The peple cam unto the hous withoute, And wondred hem in how honeste manere And tentifly she kepte hir fader deere. But outrely Grisildis wondre myghte For nevere erst ne saugh she swich a sighte. No wonder is thogh that she were astoned To seen so greet a grest come in that place; She nevere was to swiche gestes woned, For which she looked with ful pale face- But shortly forth this tale for to chace, Thise arn the wordes that the markys sayde To this benigne verray feithful mayde. "Grisilde," he seyde, "ye shal wel understonde It liketh to youre fader and to me That I yow wedde, and eek it may so stonde, As,
I suppose, ye wol that it so be. But thise demandes axe I first," quod he, "That sith it shal be doon in hastif wyse, Wol ye assente, or elles yow avyse? I seye this, be ye redy with good herte To al my lust, and that I frely may, As me best thynketh, do yow laughe or smerte, And nevere ye to grucche it nyght ne day, And eek whan I sey ye, ne sey nat nay, Neither by word, ne frownyng contenance? Swere this, and heere I swere yow alliance." Wondrynge upon this word, quakynge for drede, She seyde, "Lord, undigne and unworthy Am I to thilke honour, that ye me beede, But as ye wole yourself, right so wol I. And heere I swere, that nevere willyngly In werk ne thoght I nyl yow disobeye, For to be deed, though me were looth to deye." "This is ynogh,
Grisilde myn," quod he, And forth he gooth with a ful sobre cheere Out at the dore, and after that cam she; And to the peple he seyde in this manere, "This is my wyf," quod he, "that standeth heere; Honoureth hir, and loveth hir,
I preye, Whoso me loveth; ther is namoore to seye." And for that nothyng of hir olde geere She sholde brynge into his hous, he bad That wommen sholde dispoillen hir right theere;- Of which thise ladyes were nat right glad To handle hir clothes, wherinne she was clad- But nathelees, this mayde bright of hewe Fro foot to heed they clothed han al newe. Hir heris han they kembd, that lay untressed Ful rudely, and with hir fyngres smale A corone on hir heed they han ydressed, And sette hir ful of nowches grete and smale. Of hir array what sholde I make a tale? Unnethe the peple hire knew for hir fairnesse Whan she translated was in swich richesse. This markys hath hir spoused with a ryng Broght for the same cause, and thanne hir sette Upon an hors, snow-whit and wel amblyng, And to his paleys, er he lenger lette, With joyful peple that hir ladde and mette Convoyed hir; and thus the day they spende In revel, til the sonne gan descende. And shortly forth this tale for to chace, I seye, that to this newe markysesse God hath swich favour sent hir of his grace, That it ne semed nat by liklynesse That she was born and fed in rudenesse As in a cote or in an oxe-stalle, But norissed in an emperoures halle. To every wight she woxen is so deere And worshipful, that folk ther she was bore And from hir birthe knewe hir yeer by yeere, Unnethe trowed they, but dorste han swore That she to Janicle, of which I spak bifore, She doghter nere, for as by conjecture, Hem thoughte she was another creature. For though that evere vertuous was she, She was encressed in swich excellence, Of thewes goode, yset in heigh bountee, And so discreet and fair of eloquence, So benigne, and so digne of reverence, And koude so the peples herte embrace, That ech hir lovede, that looked on hir face. Noght oonly of Saluces in the toun Publiced was the bountee of hir name, But eek biside in many a regioun, If oon seide wel, another seyde the same; So spradde of hir heighe bountee the fame That men and wommen, as wel yonge as olde, Goon to Saluce upon hir to biholde. Thus Walter lowely, nay! but roially Wedded with fortunat honestetee, In Goddes pees lyveth ful esily At hoom, and outward grace ynogh had he, And for he saugh that under low degree Was ofte vertu hid, the peple hym heelde A prudent man, and that is seyn ful seelde. Nat oonly this Grisildis thurgh hir wit Koude al the feet of wyfly humblenesse, But eek, whan that the cas required it, The commune profit koude she redresse. Ther nas discord, rancour, ne hevynesse In al that land, that she ne koude apese, And wisely brynge hem alle in reste and ese. Though that hir housbonde absent were anon If gentil men, or othere of hir contree Were wrothe, she wolde bryngen hem aton. So wise and rype wordes hadde she, And juggementz of so greet equitee, That she from hevene sent was, as men wende, Peple to save and every wrong tamende. Nat longe tyme after that this Grisild Was wedded, she a doghter hath ybore- Al had hir levere have born a man child; Glad was this markys and the folk therfore, For though a mayde child coome al bifore, She may unto a knave child atteyne By liklihede, syn she nys nat bareyne.
Explicit secunda pars. Incipit tercia pars. Ther fil, as it bifalleth tymes mo, 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 tassaye. Nedelees,
God woot, he thoghte hir for taffraye. 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, 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, 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. 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. 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, 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, 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, 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. 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; 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 Your owene thyng, werketh after youre wille. 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; 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, 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, 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, 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, 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 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. 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; But nathelees she neither weep ne syked, Consentynge 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, 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, "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, 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, 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, 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. This sergeant cam unto his lord ageyn, And of Grisildis wordes and hir 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, 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, 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, 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 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 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, 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 hir, ne nevere hir doghter name Ne nempned she, in ernest nor in game.
This is the longest Chapter, thus I will be breaking it up for easier reading.
Canterbury Tales;
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