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.And forthermoore, this shal ye swere, that yeAgayn my choys shul neither grucche ne stryve.For sith I shal forgoon my liberteeAt youre requeste, as evere moot I thryve,Ther as myn herte is set, ther wol I wyve.And but ye wole assente in swich manere,I prey yow speketh namoore of this matere.«With hertely wyl they sworen and assentenTo al this thyng – ther seyde no wight nay –Bisekynge hym of grace, er that they wenten,That he wolde graunten hem a certein dayOf his spousaille, as soone as evere he may,For yet alwey the peple somwhat dredde,Lest that the markys no wyf wolde wedde.He graunted hem a day swich as hym lesteOn 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 endeOf hire entente and hoom agayn they wende.And heerupon he to his officeresComaundeth for the feste to purveye,And to his privee knyghtes and squieresSwich charge yaf as hym liste on hem leye;And they to his comandement obeye,And ech of hem dooth al his diligenceTo doon unto the feeste reverence.Explicit prima pars.Incipit secunda pars.Noght fer fro thilke paleys honurableTher as this markys shoop his mariageThere stood a throop of site delitable,In which that poure folk of that villageHadden hir beestes and hir herbergage,And of hire labour tooke hir sustenance,After that the erthe yaf hem habundance.Amonges thise poure folk ther dwelte a manWhich that was holden pourest of hem alle,But hye God somtyme senden kanHis 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 poureliche yfostred up was she,No likerous lust was thurgh hire herte yronne.Wel ofter of the welle than of the tonneShe drank, and for she wolde vertu pleseShe knew wel labour but noon ydel ese.But thogh this mayde tendre were of age,Yet in the brest of hire virginiteeTher was enclosed rype and sad corage;And in greet reverence and chariteeHir olde poure fader fostred shee.A fewe sheep, spynnynge, on feeld she kepte;She wolde noght been ydel til she slepte.And whan she homward cam, she wolde bryngeWortes or othere herbes tymes ofte,The whiche she shredde and seeth for hir lyvynge,And made hir bed ful harde and nothyng softe;And ay she kepte hir fadres lyf on-lofteWith everich obeisaunce and diligenceThat child may doon to fadres reverence.Upon Grisilde, this poure creature,Ful ofte sithe this markys caste his eyeAs he on huntyng rood, paraventure;And whan it fil that he myghte hire espye,He noght with wantowne lookyng of folyeHis eyen caste on hire, but in sad wyseUpon hir chiere he wolde hym ofte avyse,Commendynge in his herte hir wommanhede,And eek hir vertu, passynge any wightOf so yong age, as wel in chiere as dede.For thogh the peple have no greet insightIn vertu, he considered ful rightHir bountee, and disposed that he woldeWedde hire oonly, if evere he wedde sholde.The day of weddyng cam, but no wight kanTelle what womman that it sholde be.For which merveille wondred many a man,And seyden whan 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 natheless 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 mesureBy a mayde lyk to hire stature,And eek of othere aornementes alleThat unto swich a weddyng sholde falle.The time of undren of the same dayApprocheth 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 plenteeTher maystow seen, of deynteuous vitailleThat 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 toldeIn this array the righte wey han holde.Grisilde of this, God woot, ful innocentThat for hire shapen was al this array,To fecchen water at a welle is went,And comth hoom as soone as ever she may;For wel she hadde herd seyd that thilke dayThe markys sholde wedde, and if she myghteShe wolde fayn han seyn som of that sighte.She thoghte, »I wole with othere maydens stonde,That been my felawes, in oure dore and seThe markysesse, and therfore wol I fondeTo doon at hoom as soone as it may beThe labour which that longeth unto me,And thanne I may at leyser hire biholdeIf 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 upon hir knes she gan to falle,And with sad contenance kneleth stilleTil she had herd what was the lordes wille.This thoghtful markys spak unto this maydeFul 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 manAnd seyde thus whan he hym hadde asyde,»Janicula, I neither may ne kanLenger the plesance of myn herte hyde.If that thou vouchesauf, what so bityde,Thy doghter wol I take er that I wendeAs for my wyf, unto hir lyves ende.Thou lovest me, I woot it wel certeyn,And art my feithful lige man ybore,And al that liketh me, I dar wel seynIt liketh thee, and specially therforeTel me that poynt that I have seyd bifore,If that thou wolt unto that purpos draweTo take me as for thy sone-in-lawe.«The sodeyn cas this man astonyed soThat reed he wax; abayst and al quakyngeHe stood.Unnethes seyde he wordes moBut oonly thus, »Lord,« quod he, »my willyngeIs as ye wole, ne ayeyns youre likyngeI wol no thyng [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]