Canterbury Tales and Other Poems, Geoffrey Chaucer [good fiction books to read txt] 📗

shoulde take Your heritage, oh! woe were us on live: alive Wherefore we pray you hastily to wive.”

 

Their meeke prayer and their piteous cheer Made the marquis for to have pity.

“Ye will,” quoth he, “mine owen people dear, To that I ne’er ere* thought constraine me. *before I me rejoiced of my liberty,

That seldom time is found in rnarriage; Where I was free, I must be in servage! servitude “But natheless I see your true intent, And trust upon your wit, and have done aye: Wherefore of my free will I will assent To wedde me, as soon as e’er I may.

But whereas ye have proffer’d me to-day To choose me a wife, I you release

That choice, and pray you of that proffer cease.

 

“For God it wot, that children often been Unlike their worthy elders them before, Bounte* comes all of God, not of the strene* goodness Of which they be engender’d and y-bore: **stock, race I trust in Godde’s bounte, and therefore My marriage, and mine estate and rest, I him betake; he may do as him lest. *commend to him “Let me alone in choosing of my wife;

That charge upon my back I will endure: But I you pray, and charge upon your life, That what wife that I take, ye me assure To worship* her, while that her life may dure, *honour In word and work both here and elleswhere, As she an emperore’s daughter were.

 

“And farthermore this shall ye swear, that ye Against my choice shall never grudge* nor strive. *murmur For since I shall forego my liberty

At your request, as ever may I thrive, Where as mine heart is set, there will I live And but* ye will assent in such mannere, *unless I pray you speak no more of this mattere.”

 

With heartly will they sworen and assent To all this thing, there said not one wight nay: Beseeching him of grace, ere that they went, That he would grante them a certain day Of his espousal, soon as e’er he rnay, For yet always the people somewhat dread were in fear or doubt Lest that the marquis woulde no wife wed.

 

He granted them a day, such as him lest, On which he would be wedded sickerly, certainly And said he did all this at their request; And they with humble heart full buxomly, obediently <3>

Kneeling upon their knees full reverently, Him thanked all; and thus they have an end Of their intent, and home again they wend.

 

And hereupon he to his officers

Commanded for the feaste to purvey. provide And to his privy knightes and squiers

Such charge he gave, as him list on them lay: And they to his commandement obey,

And each of them doth all his diligence To do unto the feast all reverence.

 

*Pars Secunda Second Part*

 

Not far from thilke* palace honourable, that Where as this marquis shope his marriage, prepared; resolved on There stood a thorp, of sighte delectable, *hamlet In which the poore folk of that village Hadde their beastes and their harbourage, dwelling And of their labour took their sustenance, After the earthe gave them abundance.

 

Among this poore folk there dwelt a man Which that was holden poorest of them all; But highe God sometimes sende can

His grace unto a little ox’s stall;

Janicola men of that thorp him call.

A daughter had he, fair enough to sight, And Griseldis this younge maiden hight.

 

But for to speak of virtuous beauty,

Then was she one the fairest under sun: Full poorely y-foster’d up was she;

No *likerous lust* was in her heart y-run; luxurious pleasure

Well ofter of the well than of the tun She drank, <4> and, for* she woulde virtue please *because She knew well labour, but no idle ease.

 

But though this maiden tender were of age; Yet in the breast of her virginity

There was inclos’d a *sad and ripe corage; steadfast and mature And in great reverence and charity spirit*

Her olde poore father foster’d she.

A few sheep, spinning, on the field she kept, She woulde not be idle till she slept.

 

And when she homeward came, she would bring Wortes,* and other herbes, times oft, *plants, cabbages The which she shred and seeth’d for her living, And made her bed full hard, and nothing soft: And aye she kept her father’s life on loft up, aloft With ev’ry obeisance and diligence,

That child may do to father’s reverence.

 

Upon Griselda, this poor creature,

Full often sithes* this marquis set his eye, *times As he on hunting rode, paraventure: by chance And when it fell that he might her espy, He not with wanton looking of folly

His eyen cast on her, but in sad* wise serious Upon her cheer he would him oft advise;* countenance **consider Commending in his heart her womanhead, And eke her virtue, passing any wight

Of so young age, as well in cheer as deed.

For though the people have no great insight In virtue, he considered full right

Her bounte,* and disposed that he would *goodness Wed only her, if ever wed he should.

 

The day of wedding came, but no wight can Telle what woman that it shoulde be;

For which marvail wonder’d many a man, And saide, when they were in privity,

“Will not our lord yet leave his vanity?

Will he not wed? Alas, alas the while!

Why will he thus himself and us beguile?”

 

But natheless this marquis had *done make* caused to be made

Of gemmes, set in gold and in azure,

Brooches and ringes, for Griselda’s sake, And of her clothing took he the measure Of a maiden like unto her stature,

And eke of other ornamentes all

That unto such a wedding shoulde fall. befit The time of undern* of the same day *evening <5>

Approached, that this wedding shoulde be, And all the palace put was in array,

Both hall and chamber, each in its degree, Houses of office stuffed with plenty

There may’st thou see of dainteous vitaille, victuals, provisions That may be found, as far as lasts Itale.

 

This royal marquis, richely array’d,

Lordes and ladies in his company,

The which unto the feaste were pray’d, And of his retinue the bach’lery,

With many a sound of sundry melody,

Unto the village, of the which I told, In this array the right way did they hold.

 

Griseld’ of this (God wot) full innocent, That for her shapen* was all this array, *prepared To fetche water at a well is went,

And home she came as soon as e’er she may.

For well she had heard say, that on that day The marquis shoulde wed, and, if she might, She fain would have seen somewhat of that sight.

 

She thought, “I will with other maidens stand, That be my fellows, in our door, and see The marchioness; and therefore will I fand strive To do at home, as soon as it may be,

The labour which belongeth unto me,

And then I may at leisure her behold,

If she this way unto the castle hold.”

 

And as she would over the threshold gon, The marquis came and gan for her to call, And she set down her water-pot anon

Beside the threshold, in an ox’s stall, And down upon her knees she gan to fall, And with sad* countenance kneeled still, *steady Till she had heard what was the lorde’s will.

 

The thoughtful marquis spake unto the maid Full soberly, and said in this mannere: “Where is your father, Griseldis?” he said.

And she with reverence, *in humble cheer, with humble air*

Answered, “Lord, he is all ready here.”

And in she went withoute longer let delay And to the marquis she her father fet. fetched He by the hand then took the poore man, And saide thus, when he him had aside: “Janicola, I neither may nor can

Longer the pleasance of mine hearte hide; If that thou vouchesafe, whatso betide, Thy daughter will I take, ere that I wend, go As for my wife, unto her life’s end.

 

“Thou lovest me, that know I well certain, And art my faithful liegeman y-bore, born And all that liketh me, I dare well sayn It liketh thee; and specially therefore Tell me that point, that I have said before, —

If that thou wilt unto this purpose draw, To take me as for thy son-in-law.”

 

This sudden case* the man astonied so, event That red he wax’d, abash’d, and all quaking amazed He stood; unnethes said he wordes mo’, *scarcely But only thus; “Lord,” quoth he, “my willing Is as ye will, nor against your liking I will no thing, mine owen lord so dear; Right as you list governe this mattere.”

 

“Then will I,” quoth the marquis softely, “That in thy chamber I, and thou, and she, Have a collation;* and know’st thou why? *conference For I will ask her, if her will it be

To be my wife, and rule her after me:

And all this shall be done in thy presence, I will not speak out of thine audience.” hearing And in the chamber while they were about The treaty, which ye shall hereafter hear, The people came into the house without, And wonder’d them in how honest mannere And tenderly she kept her father dear; But utterly Griseldis wonder might,

For never erst* ne saw she such a sight. *before No wonder is though that she be astoned, astonished To see so great a guest come in that place, She never was to no such guestes woned; accustomed, wont For which she looked with full pale face.

But shortly forth this matter for to chase, push on, pursue These are the wordes that the marquis said To this benigne, very,* faithful maid. *true <6>

 

“Griseld’,” he said, “ye shall well understand, It liketh to your father and to me

That I you wed, and eke it may so stand, As I suppose ye will that it so be:

But these demandes ask I first,” quoth he, “Since that it shall be done in hasty wise; Will ye assent, or elles you advise? consider “I say this, be ye ready with good heart To all my lust,* and that I freely may, pleasure As me best thinketh, do you* laugh or smart, cause you to

And never ye to grudge,* night nor day, *murmur And eke when I say Yea, ye say not Nay, Neither by word, nor frowning countenance?

Swear this, and here I swear our alliance.”

 

Wond’ring upon this word, quaking for dread, She saide; “Lord, indigne and unworthy Am I to this honour that ye me bede, offer But as ye will yourself, right so will I: And here I swear, that never willingly In word or thought I will you disobey, For to be dead; though me were loth to dey.” die “This is enough, Griselda mine,” quoth he.

And forth he went with a full sober cheer, Out at the door, and after then came she, And to the people he said in this mannere: “This is my wife,” quoth he, “that standeth here.

Honoure her, and love her, I you pray, Whoso me loves; there is no more to say.”

 

And, for that nothing of her olde gear She shoulde bring into his house, he bade That women should despoile* her right there; *strip Of which these ladies were nothing glad To handle her clothes wherein she was clad: But natheless this maiden bright of hue From